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 I'KOX'K TIIKIR Slsri.kHOoi).
 
 THE SEVEN LITTLE SISTERS PROVE THEIR SISTERHOOD 
 
 EACH AND ALL 
 
 A COMPANION TO 
 
 ='THE SEVEN LITTLE SISTERS WHO LIVE ON THE ROUND 
 
 BALL THAT FLOATS IN THE AIR," "TEN BOYS 
 
 WHO LIVED ON THE ROAD FROM LONG 
 
 AGO TO NOW," "GEOGRAPHICAL 
 
 PLAYS," ETC. 
 
 BY 
 
 JANE ANDREWS 
 
 BOST<JN. U.S.A. 
 
 GINN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
 
 1894
 
 Copyright, 1877, 
 By lee and SHEPARD. 
 
 Copyright, 1885, 
 By lee and SHEPARD. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 Prove their Sisterhood.
 
 J. 1^.^'.' 
 
 TO 
 
 MARGIE AND ANDREWS, 
 
 KSM TO TIFE FOUR YOUNGEST MEMBERS OF 3IY SCHOOL, 
 
 DOSSIE, EDITH. DADIE, AXD GEORGIE, 
 
 I DEDICATE 
 
 THIS LITTLE BOOK.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 FAGB 
 
 The Stoky of Agooxack, axd hek Sail upon 
 
 TUE Ice Island 1 
 
 A Long Joukxey through a Strange Land 2G 
 What was Gemila doing all this Time ? . 57 
 New Work for Pen-se and Lin. . . .91 
 Can the Little Brown Baby do any thing? . 120 
 Ch>ustmas-Time again for Louise . . . 128
 
 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK, 
 
 AND HER SAIL UPON THE ICE ISLAND, 
 
 Do you remember Agoonack, the lit- 
 tle Esquimau girl who lived through 
 the long sunshine and the long dark- 
 ness? 
 
 I have had news of her lately. Do 
 you want to know what it is? Then 
 come with me once more to the cold 
 countries, and visit our old acquaint- 
 ances, the seals and the bears, and the 
 chubby little girl and her baby brother. 
 
 It is an April day. If we were at 
 home, we sliould perhaps hear a blue- 
 Dird sing. There would be swelling leat-
 
 2 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 buds on the lilac and the horse-chestnut 
 trees, and little green tufts of grass 
 pushing up here and there in sunny 
 spots ; and out in the pine woods I am 
 sure we should find May-flowers. But 
 in the far-away cold countries there are 
 no such pleasant signs of spring ; and 
 yet there are some things that are very 
 cheering to the people who live there 
 Best of all, there is the sun, that hat 
 come back again after the long night 
 and gives them now a short day, just s 
 few hours long. Then Puseymut the 
 seal, who knows that the spring is com 
 ing, has begun to build her curious, 
 house. And about these seal-houses J' 
 must tell you ; for they are almost a^^ 
 curious and pretty as a bird's nest. 
 
 You know the seals live in the water 
 And here the water is all covered with 
 ice, — ice as thick as you are tall, little 
 Edith, and in some places very much 
 thicker. And on the top of the ice 
 there is deep, deep snow. Now, of what 
 can the seal build her house ?
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK. 3 
 
 Ah ! you merry children who build 
 snow-houses in winter know very well 
 of what it is built. See, I will make 
 
 you a picture of it, and the mother seal 
 swimmini^ in the clejir water just below. 
 Here is the passage-way or entry, cut 
 thiou<ijh the clear, hard ice. To make
 
 4 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 that was difficult work for the mothei 
 seal ; but she did it all herself. See what 
 a little doorway leads into the pretty 
 arched room above, — a room whose 
 walls are of snow. It is shaped just like 
 an Esquimau house. Indeed, I have 
 sometimes thought that the Esquimaux 
 learned of the seals how to make their 
 houses. It is hardly big enough, you 
 will say, for the mother seal to live in. 
 No : she didn't build it for herself She 
 can swim about wherever she likes, 
 come up to some little hole in the ice 
 for an occasional breath of fresh air, 
 creep out and sun herself if the day is 
 warm ; and, in short, she doesn't seem 
 to need a house for herself. 
 
 For whom, then, is the little house ? 
 Georgie thinks it must be for her baby. 
 And Georgie is right ; for in that pretty 
 round house lies a little white baby seal, 
 with soft hazel eyes, and tiny little flip- 
 pers hardly big enough to swim with as 
 yet. And she lies there so snugly while
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONAOK. 5 
 
 the mother goes away for food ; and she 
 gives a little call of welcome when she 
 hears her coming up the ice-entry that 
 leads to the door. 
 
 On this April day, Agoonack has on 
 her bear-skin jmnper and hood, and rims 
 out on the snow beside her father, who 
 carries his long spear in his hand. The 
 sun is up, and sends level rays across 
 the ice, and makes the little girl think 
 of warmth, although, if she had a ther- 
 mometer, she would see that it stands 
 at -30° ; and that is colder than you 
 have ever known it to be. She trots 
 briskly along beside her father, until 
 with a sudden " Hush ! " and touch of 
 his hand on her shoulder, he stops the 
 child in tlie shelter of a great iceberg, 
 and, running swiftly forward, with a sud- 
 den jump he breaks through the snow- 
 crust, and has come crashing down into 
 the pretty seal iglo"', and seized tlie baby 
 seal. The poor little thing is so taken by 
 surprise, tliut it can only utter a plaintive
 
 b EACH AND ALL. 
 
 cry, which the mother — swimming off 
 in the clear water under the ice — 
 hears instantly ; and she hastens, as any 
 mother would, to help her poor child. 
 
 Metek knows she will come : he is 
 ready. Her smooth, round head, and 
 mild eyes, have scarcely appeared above 
 the ice, when she is struck by his spear, 
 and drawn out through the hole. And 
 now she will furnish meat for dinner, oil 
 for the lamp, and boots for the men. 
 
 I think you wouldn't like to see all 
 this : it would be too painful. But 
 Agoonack is used to it ; and she knows 
 besides, that, if they catch no seals, they 
 will have nothing to eat. And hunger 
 is to her as painful as is death to this 
 poor seal. 
 
 Do you remember where her father 
 stopped her while he ran forward to the 
 seal igloe ? 
 
 It was in the shelter of an iceberg ; 
 wasn't it, Dossie ? 
 
 Now, if he had known something
 
 J -? --"^
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK. 7 
 
 about the iceberg, I am sure he would 
 never have left his little daughter there 
 alone ; indeed, I think he wouldn't have 
 liked to stop there very long himself. 
 Creep with me round to the other side 
 of the berg, and up the slippery slope a 
 little way. Here is a narrow opening in 
 the ice. It is like the mouth of a little 
 cave. Look in and see the beautiful 
 clear blue ice-walls of this crystal room. 
 If we had come an hour ago, I believe 
 you would have been ready to turn and 
 run quickly away, without stopping to 
 see that this is Mother Bruin's nursery, 
 and she and her two children were at 
 play in it. 
 
 " But who is Mother Bruin ? " 
 Why, don't you know ? she is the great 
 white bear; Nannook, as Agoonack calls 
 her. And, although slie would be a very 
 surly creature if we should meet her on 
 the ice, at home here in the crystal nur- 
 Kery she plays with the two cubs, rolls 
 them over with her paw, pats them, and
 
 8 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 cuddles and hugs them as tenderly in her 
 rough way as your mother does you. 
 And sometimes she takes them out 
 sliding down the steep snow-hills, sitting 
 on their hind -legs, and steering down, 
 after a good coasting - place has been 
 worn by their mamma. You see, they 
 have their little family pleasures. 1 
 wish we might be friends with them ; 
 but, unfortunately, they know very well 
 that Metek would rejoice to have their 
 flesh for meat, and their warm, shaggy 
 skins for clothes : so they return the 
 compliment, and kill him if they can. 
 And now you see why he wouldn't have 
 left Agoonack there if he had known. 
 But, fortunately for the child, Mamma 
 Bruin had taken little Hugger and 
 Growler out for a walk just at that 
 time ; and she did not return until the 
 child and her father were safe at home, 
 and drinking seal's-blood soup for supper. 
 They have company, too, at supper 
 to night ; not that it is at all surpris'
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK. 9 
 
 ing for them to have company, for any 
 hunter who has killed a seal never keeps 
 it all to himself, but is always kind 
 enough to invite his neighbors to share 
 his feast. But to-night they have a rare 
 and wonderful visitor : Kudlunah, Metek 
 calls him ; and, if we knew the Esqui- 
 mau language, we should understand 
 that this queer word means " white 
 man." 
 
 Never has Agoonack or little Sipsu 
 seen such a man. His cheeks are red, 
 his eyes are bright, and he has a curly 
 beard : his voice is very pleasant, and 
 he can speak a few words of their own 
 language. And out of his pockets come 
 treasures such as the little ones have 
 never dreamed of The shy little girl 
 can hjirdly look up, and say " Thank 
 you," when he puts a string of bright 
 beads round her neck ; and her father 
 grunts out his satisfaction over a knife, 
 the best thing to cut with that he ever 
 baw in his life.
 
 10 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 But where did this white man come 
 from ? Ah, yes ! that is the greatest 
 wonder, after all ; for he points far away 
 to the south to show where his home is, 
 and he says " oomiak " (ship), when they 
 wonder how he came so far. To-night 
 he will sleep in their hut ; and to-mor- 
 row, if they will go with him, he will 
 show them his great oomiak. And so, 
 when the seal feast is finished, and the 
 Kudlunah, as well as the rest, has drunk 
 his bowl of seal-blood soup, they lie 
 down together. 
 
 In the morning Metek goes with the 
 stranger ; but the others stay at home, 
 doubting whether it can be perfectly 
 safe to trust themselves in such com- 
 pany upon so short an acquaintance. 
 But Agoonack thinks all day of the 
 wonderful Kudlunah, and she plays with 
 her pretty beads, and says over and over 
 again softly to herself, " Koyenna, koy- 
 enna" (thanks, thanks). And she is 
 the first one to see her father, far in the
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK. H 
 
 distance, a black speck on the moonlit 
 snow, as he trudges homeward with his 
 hands full of presents, and his head fiill 
 of strano-e and marvellous news. 
 
 You know it doesn't make much dif- 
 ference to the Esquimaux whether they 
 sit up late or not, for the sunrise could 
 hardly be called the beginning of day at 
 any time of year ; and, sleep as late as 
 they might in the morning, nobody 
 would cry, " What a shame that the sun 
 should find you in bed ! " 
 
 So this evening, even little Sipsu cud- 
 dles forgotten behind his mother, and 
 listens with wide-open mouth and eyes to 
 the story of the great oomiak, built all 
 of wood, — wood wliich you remember 
 is so precious in the Esquimau land, — 
 and as big as a hundred kyaks. It is 
 filled with pale-faced, shaggy-bearded 
 Kudlunahs, plenty of knives, and, better 
 than that, strange weapons, stronger than 
 spears, for out of them flashes fire, and 
 a seal will be stFiick dead with the terri- 
 ble noise that follows that flash.
 
 12 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 Oh, that was a marvellous story! 
 Agoonack could hardly believe it; but 
 she learned by and by to be very famil- 
 iar with the guns and pistols, and very 
 thankful for them too. You will see 
 pretty soon how that came about ; for 
 before a week has passed, even the little 
 girl herself has been on board the great 
 oomiak, and tasted the Kudlunah's food, 
 a ship-biscuit, as strange and unknown 
 to her as seal's-blood soup to you. Think 
 how funny it would be to taste for the 
 first time bread or cracker ! 
 
 The child's mother, too, is made very 
 happy when she receives needles and 
 thread ( so much better than her bone 
 needles and seal-sinews) and a good p.iir 
 of scissors, as payment for the bag of 
 eider-down that she gathered last sum- 
 mer when the ducks came to make their 
 nests among the rocks. The exchange 
 of these things as presents, or in trade, 
 shows them that the white men and the 
 Esquimaux can serve each other, and
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK. 13 
 
 awakens a very friendly feeling between 
 them ; and, when Metek kills a seal or a 
 bear, the white captain is always welcome 
 at the feast. 
 
 When two or three months have 
 passed, the Kudlunahs are going away. 
 They have only stopped for a little while 
 to search along the rocky shores for 
 traces of some lost friends of theirs who 
 sailed that way many years ago ; and, 
 finding none here, they will push on 
 through the icy seas, hoping for better 
 success farther north. 
 
 One day just before they started, Me- 
 tek was called down into the cabin of the 
 ship to see the captain ; and Avhen he 
 came up it was with a smile on his broad 
 face, and a look of great importance 
 which made him liold his head very high. 
 What had the captain been saying to 
 him ? 
 
 " Metek," he said, " you are a good 
 hunter. Will you go witli us on this 
 voyage to kill seals and walruses for us ?
 
 14 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 I will teach you to shoot, and give you 
 a rifle ; and you shall be paid with knives, 
 guns, powder, and shot." 
 
 Then Metek answered, " I will go with 
 the great captain, but I cannot leave my 
 wife and children behind. How could 
 they live alone ? They cannot hunt : they 
 would die of huns^er." 
 
 Then the captain sat silent and 
 thoughtful for a minute or two ; and at 
 last, seeing that what Metek had spoken 
 was plainly true, he answered, " Bring 
 your wife and children with you." It 
 was this that made Metek so proud and 
 happy ; and he hurried home with his 
 news. 
 
 Ah ! now they must break up house- 
 keeping ; but that is an easy thing, ea- 
 sier even than for Gemila in the desert, 
 for her father had mats and tents, and 
 camels and goats, and water-bags : but 
 Metek's family had nothing at all to 
 carry, except a seal-skin drinking-cup, a 
 knife or two, the precious new sewing-
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK, 15 
 
 Utensils, some strings of beads, the 
 clothes they wear, and one additional 
 suit for summer which the mother has 
 just sewed out of tuktoo or reindeer skin. 
 So it is a very easy matter to make the 
 change ; and the berth of the ship is a 
 luxurious bed for Sipsu and Agoonack. 
 
 I can't tell you all the wonderful things 
 that liap[)ened for the next few months, 
 while the great oomiak, after pushing 
 through the icy sea as far as it could go, 
 was at last frozen fast among the great 
 ice-floes ; or how Metek learned so well 
 to shoot the seals and the bears, and 
 provide fresh meat for the whole ship's 
 company. 
 
 But we are coming to a very impor- 
 tant time, — a thne when the ice begins 
 to break up, and, tossed by the rising and 
 falling tides, it crowds and crushes the 
 strong ship. And at last one night, dark 
 and very stormy too, while the children 
 wlio Jire so used to the thumping nnd 
 tossing, are asleep rolled up in bear-Skins,
 
 16 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 a great shout is heard through the storm ; 
 the ship is leaking badly, and they must 
 throw out upon the ice as many things 
 as possible. 
 
 The barrels and casks, the bundles of 
 skins, and heavy boats, are soon upon the 
 floe ; ajid in the hurry and confusion 
 somebody picks up the roll of skins in 
 which the children are sleeping, and they 
 are tossed out like any other bundle. 
 
 When at last the dim morning dawns, 
 behold, the ship has drifted away, and left 
 upon the great cake of floating ice a par- 
 ty of fifteen men, besides Metek and his 
 wife and the two little children who have 
 crept out of their nest of skins, and are 
 neither surprised nor frightened at find- 
 ing themselves in this strange position. 
 
 Think of it, children. How would you 
 like it ? — a great cake of ice two or 
 three miles broad, almost like a floating 
 island. When the days are warm enough 
 to thaw a little, it moves with the moving 
 water, and freezes hard to the land or the 
 iceberars when a cold snan comef»
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK. 17 
 
 I believe you and I should be very 
 much troubled about it, and I dare say 
 the captain felt very anxious ; but he did 
 not say so : he tried to be cheerful and 
 hopeful, and plan what to do. 
 
 In some ways it is not so bad, you see ; 
 because if they are floating in the water 
 they will meet both seals and walruses, 
 and can get something to eat. And 
 there is another good thing to remember : 
 they are drifting always southward, and 
 that takes them towards warmer seas, 
 towards home, at least towards the Kud- 
 lunah's home. But the way is long, and 
 the ice-boat may not sail always steadily 
 on as they would like. You know they 
 cannot steer it as men do a ship, or even 
 as you do your sled. They must patient- 
 ly let it take its own way and its own 
 time ; and what are they to do for shel- 
 ter and for fire, even if food is plenty ? 
 
 I tliiuk the Kudlunalis would have 
 been poorly off, although they are so 
 wise, if it hadn't been lor Esquimau
 
 18 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 Metek then. See how he goes promptly 
 to work to build snow-houses, igloes he 
 calls them. The ice floor is cold, to be 
 sure, and the platform of ice raised at 
 one side for a bed seems colder still when 
 you lie down ; but there are two old can- 
 vas sails that will serve for carpets ; and 
 in a few hours the arched snow walls are 
 finished, so high in the middle that the 
 captain himself can stand upright; and 
 a window one foot square of clear ice lets 
 in light enough to see each other by, 
 even when the seal-blubber lamp is not 
 burning. There is a home for them, and 
 a pretty comfortable home too, they 
 think. But it is now the middle of Octo- 
 ber, and winter is coming. To be sure, 
 they have casks of pemican and some 
 barrels of biscuits ; but it takes a great 
 deal of food to feed nineteen hungry 
 people every day, and in the cold coun- 
 tries you have to eat a great deal more 
 than we do here ; for food, as you will 
 one day learn, is like fuel for a little fire
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK. 19 
 
 inside of you that keeps you warm, and, 
 the colder the weather is, the more of 
 that fuel is needed to keep the fire burn- 
 ing. 
 
 Metek must hunt every day for seals. 
 Unfortunately it is just the time when 
 the bears are taking their long nap ; for 
 you must know that they are very lazy 
 fellows in the winter, and creep away to 
 some snug hiding-place where they doze 
 and dream until early spring. It wouldn't 
 be easy to find that hiding-place : so they 
 can't expect much bear's meat. 
 
 There is another reason why they 
 dread the winter. Who can tell me 
 what it is ? 
 
 " It must be the darkness," says Da- 
 die. You are right, my little boy: that 
 is what they dread, and what 3''ou and I 
 should dread too, — not to see the sun 
 day after day, and week after week, per- 
 haps not even to see each otiier's faces. 
 
 " But why don't they light their 
 lamps ? " says Edith. Ah ! there may be
 
 20 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 a sad reason for not doing that. Don't 
 you remember that if no seals are killed 
 there will be no oil for the lamps ? 
 
 I cannot tell you all about it : the sto- 
 ry is too long and too sad. You see 
 what the dangers are ; but neither you 
 nor I who live so safely at home in our 
 warm houses, and find a good dinner on 
 our tables every day, can really under- 
 stand how hard it was for them. There 
 were days of no light, no dinner, no com- 
 fort of any kind. There were nights 
 when the ice-island cracked in two, and 
 one-half drifted away before morning. 
 There were times when the children 
 moaned, " I am so hungry," and their 
 mother gave them a little piece of seal- 
 skin to chew to make believe it was 
 meat. 
 
 Among the Kudlunahs was one who 
 had blue eyes and fair hair, and who 
 spoke sometimes in a language strange 
 even to his companions. He had come 
 from the river Rhine. Do you remem-
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK. 21 
 
 ber Louise and Fritz and little Gretchen, 
 who once lived there ? 
 
 This man had a wise way of looking 
 at the stars, and rinding out by them in 
 what direction the ice-island was driftino;. 
 He could also tell you wonderful things 
 about icebergs, and about birds and 
 beasts, and fishes too : in short, he was 
 what we should call a scientific man, but 
 that hard word didn't puzzle Agoonack 
 as it does you, for she never heard it; 
 her only knowledge of Mr. Meyer is his 
 kindness to her when he one day slips a 
 bit of meat into her thin little hand, and 
 says, " My little cousin at home is no 
 bigger than you, you poor child." 
 
 At last there was a time when the sun 
 came back. Oh, how glad they all were ! 
 but even that blessing seemed to bring a 
 fresh trouble with !); for they had tloated 
 now into warmer seas, and you all know 
 what the sunshine will do to the ice and 
 snow. It is very well that they should 
 be melted, we say ; but then, we don't
 
 22 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 happen to live on an ice island and in a 
 snow house. 
 
 By and by the time comes when it is 
 no longer safe to sleep in the snow 
 houses : cold as the nights are, they must 
 be ready at any minute to leap into the 
 boat, should the now tiny island crack in 
 two. And the poor boat is neither large 
 nor strono;. 
 
 They have drifted now so far south- 
 ward that the ice is breaking up all 
 about them, and, happily for them, the 
 seals are sporting in the spring sunshine. 
 
 It is the last day of April. To-mor- 
 row will be May Day. You will have 
 May fairs. May parties. May flowers. 
 What pleasure will come to these poor 
 people drifting in the icy seas? 
 
 Oh! it is something better than May 
 fairs or parties or even flowers. They 
 see the long black line of smoke made 
 by a steamer, miles away, but coming 
 on slowly, steadily, through the ice, to 
 find them. Isn't that the very, very
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK. 23 
 
 best blessing for them ? and aren't you 
 very, very glad ? • I am sure that I am. 
 Oh the comfort, the rest, and the 
 safety ! And the way that sturdy little 
 steamer puffs and steams away towards 
 home, with her load of weary, thin, 
 worn-out men ! Towards home, did I 
 say? but haven't they drifted far beyond 
 Agoonack's home, and now aren't they 
 going still farther from it ? That is true. 
 And, after the first relief of finding them- 
 selves safe is over, Metek goes to the 
 Nalegak Soak (great captain), and asks 
 how he is ever to reach his home again. 
 And the captain comforts him with the 
 promise, that, when they reach the 
 United States, he shall l)e sent safely 
 back in the first ship that goes up to the 
 frozen seas for whale - fishing ; and in 
 the mean time he and his wife and chil- 
 dren will see a new sight, — whole cities 
 full of tall liouses built of stone or wood, 
 raih'oads and factories, and, indeed, more 
 Wonders than iiiey can name.
 
 24 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 But all this while they are steaming 
 steadily on. They have left the ice- 
 bergs far behind them ; grassy shores 
 are sometimes seen in the distance ; the 
 sun is so hot at noon that the fur cloth- 
 ing is uncomfortable J but unhappily they 
 have no other. 
 
 At last comes a day when they cast 
 anchor at a crowded wharf The news 
 of their rescue had been sent before 
 them, and friends have crowded down 
 to welcome them home again. 
 
 Oh, there is such a hand-shaking and 
 kissing ! Everybody forgets Agoonack 
 and Sipsu, who do not know what tc 
 make of all the happy greetings, At 
 least, they can understand how glad the 
 people are : that is something that can 
 be told alike in all languages. But it 
 makes them feel all the more lonely ; for 
 nobody is glad to see them. 
 
 But what little blue-eyed girl has her 
 arms about Mr. Meyer's neck ? Now 
 «ee, he is leading her by the ha^id, and
 
 THE STORY OF AGOONACK. 25 
 
 looking ou this side and on that until he 
 spies the little Esquimau girl in her 
 corner. He puts the soft white hand 
 into the little brown one, and says, 
 " Louise, this is Agoonack, the little girl 
 who has drifted with us fifteen hundred 
 miles on the ice." 
 
 Louise, the fair-faced, sweet, clean lit- 
 tle girl ; Agoonack, the dark and dirty, 
 yes, still dirty, little Esquimau, the lone- 
 ly little stranger in a strange land. 
 
 Louise looks her full in the face for 
 one minute : then her arms are round 
 Agoonack's neck, and her red lips are 
 giving her a hearty kiss of welcome. 
 
 They are little sisters, after all.
 
 A LONG JOURNEY THROUGH A 
 STRANGE LAND. 
 
 Who is this little girl sitting on the 
 sand-bank in the broad valley where a 
 few months ago a swift river ran ? 
 
 Let us see what she is doing, and then 
 perhaps you will know who she is. 
 
 She has brought a bundle of tall reeds 
 from the bank, and laid them beside her; 
 and now notice how, with her flat palm, 
 she smooths a broad place on the sand, 
 and beo;ins to drive in the reeds like 
 posts close together, and in a circle. 
 Isn't it going to be a Kttle garden, with 
 a fence all round it? Watch a minuce 
 longer : she is plastering her wall with 
 damp clay ; and while that dries, she has 
 carefully measured off a bundle of broad, 
 stiff leaves, tied them firmly, together at 
 
 26
 
 % 
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 27 
 
 one end, and with her strong fingers 
 pulled them wide apart at the other so 
 that they look like an open umbrella. 
 
 Do you know what that is for ? It is 
 a roof, to be sure. And now she puts it 
 carefull}^ on top of the circular wall, and 
 then she has a pretty little round house 
 with a pointed roof; and you notice she 
 left a doorway in the first place. 
 
 " Why, it is Manenko ! " says Dossie. 
 
 Yes, it is Manenko, the little dark 
 girl who lived in the sunshine. She is 
 building a play-house for herself; and 
 you might build one like it next sum- 
 mer, I think, if you should try. 
 
 You knew her by the kind of housGi 
 didn't you ? And you would have re- 
 membered her in a minute more, when 
 I had told you that her little l)rothcr 
 Shobo IS sitting beside her, trying to 
 make a tiny spear with a sharp barbed 
 end, out of one of her best reeds. 
 
 A great trouble has come to Mnnenko's 
 country since you first knew her. You
 
 28 EACH AND ALL, 
 
 remember the broad river where the hip- 
 popotamus used to sleep under the water, 
 and where the men used to come down 
 in a canoe loaded with elephants' tusks. 
 That beautiful, cool, swift-flowing river 
 has dried up ; and our little Manenko is 
 at this moment building her play-house 
 in the very place where the waves used 
 to dance along over the sandy bottom. 
 
 But why is this a great trouble ? I will 
 answer this question by asking you an- 
 other. Who can live without water to 
 drink ? And the simple round houses 
 have no water-pipes, and the one well of 
 the village is already almost dry. The 
 women are holding up their hands to the 
 sky, and crying, " Poola, poola ! " (rain, 
 rain) ; but the sky is blue and clear, and 
 not tlie smallest fleecy cloud answers 
 their call ; and the men have gone to the 
 next village to ask the old medicine- 
 man to come and make rain for them, 
 which you and I know very well he will 
 not be able to do. So this is really a 
 serious trouble, isn't it ?
 
 4 
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 29 
 
 Sekomi has been thoughtful for many 
 days. He has watched the sky, he has 
 looked sadly at the dry bed of the river ; 
 and now a morning has come when there 
 seems no longer any hope, and he says, 
 " Where shall we drink water to-night ? " 
 
 But Maunka, the good mother, is more 
 cheerful. " Let us go to the mountain 
 country," she says. " Do you not see 
 that the river once ran down to us from 
 the mountains ? There we shall find 
 springs and wells, build a new house, and 
 live as happily as we have here." 
 
 I am sure, dear children, that you will 
 think this good advice ; for you all know 
 that the rivers come from the mountain 
 springs. 
 
 And so this whole family prepared to 
 go on a long journey through a strange 
 land. 
 
 Perhaps some of you know what it is 
 to move. We moved once when I was a 
 little girl ; and there were great wagons 
 to carry the furniture, and men to load
 
 30 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 and unload them. It was a long and 
 wearisome business, I assure you. 
 
 Now we will see how Manenko's fami- 
 ly move. There are no horses and wag- 
 ons to carry any thing ; but they march 
 on foot, single file, and carry all the bag- 
 gage themselves. First the father with 
 his spear and shield, bow and arrows, 
 slung over his shoulders. Then Zungo, 
 the oldest son : he, too, carries bow and 
 spear, and also a load of sleeping-mats 
 tied together with rope made of palm- 
 fibre. Then follows the mother. I hope 
 some good children are carrying all her 
 bundles for her. But no : see, she has 
 the heaviest load of all. On her head is 
 the water-jar ; over her shoulders all the 
 family clothing and cooking-utensils ; in 
 her hands the baskets, and the short hoes 
 for hoeing corn ; and more than all, in 
 the loose folds of her waist-cloth little 
 Shobo must ride when he is tired, some- 
 thing as Agoonack's little brother Sipsu 
 rode in his mother's jumper-hood. 
 
 *
 
 4
 
 #
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 31 
 
 Why didn't Manenko carry some of 
 these things for her mother ? Only look 
 at the little girl, and you will be able to 
 answer the question. See, she, too, has 
 a little water-jar on her head (and I think 
 she carries it more safely than any one 
 of you could do), and a basket of hard 
 cakes, baked in the ashes of the morn- 
 ing's fire, in her hand ; a smaller basket 
 of honey is slung over her shoulder ; and 
 all that is load enough for a little girl. 
 
 If you ask why Sekomi and Zungo do 
 not carry more, I can only answer that 
 I am afraid they are not very thoughtful 
 about such things. However, nobody 
 complains, least of all the cheerful moth- 
 er, who takes up her burdens without a 
 word ; and they turn their faces towards 
 the hill-country. 
 
 The first day's march is not so very 
 hard if it were not for that thicket of 
 vvait-a-bit thorn bushes past which the 
 path led them. 
 
 Did you ever hear of the wait-a-bit
 
 32 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 thorn? It tells its whole story in its 
 name ; for the thorns are like little fish* 
 hooks, and, if once they catch you, you 
 must needs wait a bit before you can get 
 away. 1 am glad they don't grow in this 
 country. To-day they tore long slits in 
 Manenko's little cotton skirt, the first and 
 only garment that she ever had, and she 
 had only worn it a few weeks; you re- 
 member, when you knew her before, she 
 did not wear clothes. I am sorry the 
 wait-a-bit has served her so unkindly, for 
 there is no cloth to make a new dress. 
 
 Just before sunset they find a pool of 
 muddy water, and on its borders great 
 heavy foot-marks where the elephants 
 have been down to drink. This will be 
 a good camping-place, if they keep out 
 of the elephants' path, for the water-jars 
 are empty, and here is a new supply to 
 fill them for to-morrow, and also to make 
 some porridge for supper. So the chil- 
 dren gather sticks for a fire, and Sekomi 
 selects a sheltered spot for the camp.
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 33 
 
 But how shall they light the fire ? Do 
 you think Sekomi has any matches in 
 his pocket ? In the first place, he hasn't 
 any pocket; and in the second, they 
 never heard of such a thing as a match, 
 a little stick with a fiery end : they 
 would look at it with wonder. No, 
 there are no matches, but Zungo will 
 light the fire nevertheless. 
 
 He is looking about for a wild fig-tree j 
 and, finding one, he cuts a smooth twig, 
 sharpens it into a point, and after wetting 
 the point rolls it in the sand until some 
 of the sharp, shining bits stick to the 
 wet end. Now it is all ready for rubbing 
 or twirling in the hollow of that piece 
 of wood that he has carried all day slung 
 to his bundle of mats. How hard he 
 works, liolding the pointed stick straight 
 in the hole, and twirling it hard between 
 his two hiinds, while his mother waits be- 
 side him to catch the first spark in a 
 wisp of dried grass! There, it is smok- 
 ing, and now the grass is smouldering ;
 
 34 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 and in a minute there will be a merry 
 blaze under the earthen chattie where 
 the porridge is to be cooked. 
 
 But before the porridge is well boiled, 
 a long train of men and animals comes 
 crashing through the low bushes; and, 
 while the frightened family hides behind 
 a rock, Sekomi comes doubtfully forward 
 to see who the intruders are. 
 
 Two tall creatures with long necks, 
 great humps on their backs, and loaded 
 with bales and bundles of goods ; four 
 little sturdy animals, not wholly unlike 
 zebras excepting in color ; and, besides 
 the six men with woolly hair and dark 
 faces like Sekomi's own, two tall, grave- 
 faced, straight-haired men whom you 
 would have known at once for Arabs, be- 
 cause you have heard about such people 
 who lived in the desert with Gemila. 
 But the greatest wonder of all is the man 
 who rides upon one of the smaller ani- 
 mals, — a white man ! Sekomi has heard 
 that such men come sometimes to the
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 35 
 
 sea-coast, but he never before saw one ; 
 and so, while he wonders much at the 
 camels and the donkeys, strange beasts to 
 hmi, he wonders still more at a simple 
 man who is in every outward way as dif- 
 ferent from himself as possible. He has a 
 white skin instead of a dark one, straight 
 hair instead of wool, blue eyes instead of 
 black, and he wears instead of the sim- 
 ple apron and mantle of antelope-skin, 
 strange garments so well known to us as 
 coat and pantaloons. But the words that 
 he speaks are the most wonderful ; and 
 yet Sekomi knows by their sound that 
 they are kind, although he cannot under- 
 stand their meaning until one of the 
 black interpreters hurries forward to 
 help about the talking. 
 
 Do you know what an interpreter is ? 
 
 See what he does, and then you will 
 know. He listens to the white man's 
 tidk, and then he changes it into Sekomi's 
 language, and so makes them understand 
 each other. Do you want to hear what 
 the white man says to Sekomi ?
 
 36 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 " We have the same kind heavenly 
 Father. Let us be friends and like 
 brothers." 
 
 But Sekomi is afraid. He can hardly 
 believe it, and he answers, — 
 
 " It cannot be so : however much we 
 wash ourselves, we do not become white. 
 It cannot be that I have the same Father 
 as Bazungu " (white man). 
 
 Then the Bazungu speaks again in his 
 kindly voice, and says, "It is not the 
 skin that makes us brothers : it is the 
 heart." 
 
 And now Sekomi dares to come for- 
 ward, and touch the hand that is held out 
 to him in kindness, and clap his own as 
 an act of politeness. " And, since we are 
 brothers, my wife will give you por- 
 ridge." 
 
 The Bazungu is tired and hungry, and 
 the porridge is hot and delicious ; but be- 
 fore eating it he gives Sekomi a piece of 
 bright-colored cloth from one of his bales, 
 and he also calls Manenko, and puts a
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 37 
 
 String of red and blue beads round her 
 neck. The child says timidly, " Motota, 
 raotota" ("thanks"), and claps her 
 hands as her mother has taught her, 
 for it would be very bad manners not to 
 clap your hands if any one gave you a 
 present. 
 
 The white man wants help, for one of 
 his camels is sick and tired, and cannot 
 carry so great a load ; and to-morrcfw 
 morning the packages must be divided, 
 and the men must carry a part of them. 
 He will be glad of Sekomi's help, and 
 will pay liim one yard of calico a day. 
 That is a great price ; and as Sekomi was 
 going in the same direction, he is very 
 glad to earn so much calico by carrying 
 one of the bales. 
 
 Do you wonder why he isn't paid in 
 money ? He knows nothing aljout mon- 
 ey. In his country cloth and ivory and 
 beads are used instead, and a yard of cal- 
 ico is as good as a dollar. 
 
 So the bargain is made, and the wages
 
 38 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 agreed upon; and then the camp-fires 
 are lighted to frighten away the Hons, 
 and all lie down to sleep. 
 
 You would be surprised to see this fire. 
 We all know what a bright wood fire is ; 
 but what should you think of a fire of 
 ebony, that fine black wood of which the 
 piano-keys are made, and perhaps a stick 
 of mahogany or lignum- vitas added to 
 it ? That is all the wood they can find 
 to burn; and although the white man 
 knows that it is fine enough to be made 
 into beautiful tables or desks or pianos, 
 the black people think it of no value 
 except for their fires. 
 
 In the side of the hill half a mile 
 away, is a broad belt of black rock. It 
 is coal, just such coal as we burn in our 
 grate ; but Avhen the Bazungu shows it 
 to his men, and tells them that it will 
 make a hot fire, they smile, and say, 
 "Kodi?" ("really?") for they don't 
 believe it. 
 
 Very early in the morning Manenko
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 39 
 
 hears her mother rise quietly, and take 
 her grinding-stone, and begin to grind 
 some corn into flour. " Mother, why 
 grind in the dark? '' asks the child. 
 
 " I grind meal to buy a cloth from the 
 stranger, and make you a little dress," 
 answers the mother ; and sure enough, 
 when the Bazungu comes out of his tent 
 at sunrise, Maunka stands waiting with 
 her basket of fresh meal ; and he gladly 
 buys it, and gives the cloth. So the 
 poor dress torn by the wait-a-bit is re- 
 placed. 
 
 They are soon ready for the march. 
 Sekomi now carries a great bale of cloth ; 
 and Zungo, too, has been employed to 
 attend to the white man's fires when 
 they camp at night For this work he 
 is to have a strange kind of pay, 
 stranii;er even than the cloth : it is the 
 heads and necks of all the animals that 
 the white man may shoot on the way. 
 If he should shoot a rhinoceros, I think 
 there would be meat enough in his head
 
 40 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 to last the whole family several days; 
 but a little antelope's head would be 
 only enough for one dinner. At any 
 rate, it is a great help to them all to have 
 this work and this pay from the friendly 
 stranger; and they are ready to serve 
 him in every way that they can. 
 
 As they come near a village, they 
 hear the people shouting, "Malonda, 
 malonda ! " ("things for sale: do you 
 want to sell any thing ? ") and they find 
 themselves just in time to go to a mar- 
 ket, which is being held in the middle 
 of the town. 
 
 Let us see what they have to sell. 
 Here is the blacksmith who has a forge 
 on the top of yonder ant-hill. He has 
 been making short-handled iron hoes, 
 and will sell them for cloth or for honey ; 
 and honey is very cheap, — a whole gal- 
 lon for one yard of cloth. 
 
 See these two nice girls with clean 
 hands and faces, and neat baskets full of 
 something to eat. It looks very good,
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 41 
 
 but I am afraid you won't buy any 
 when I tell you that it is roasted white 
 ants. But I don't know why we 
 shouldn't find it as agreeable as a kungo- 
 cake that the women wdio live by the 
 lake have for sale ; for a kungo-cake is a 
 round flat cake, an inch thick, and as 
 large as a breakfost-plate, made entirely 
 of boiled midges that are caught by the 
 basket-full as they hover over the lake. 
 
 We will not buy either, but wdll give 
 that little naked girl a blue bead in pay- 
 ment for a cup of fresh water, and then 
 sit down in the shade of a wild fig-tree 
 to watch the others. Zungo has sold a 
 spear-head, and has in return some large 
 green, bitter melons. They are too bit- 
 ter to be eaten raw, but will be very 
 juicy and sweet when baked in the ashes. 
 .Sekomi has spent all his cloth for an 
 ornament of ivory shaped like a new 
 moon; and he marclies about the town 
 witli ir hanging round his nek with one 
 horn over each slioulder.
 
 42 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 There is one kind of food here that 
 perhaps we shall like. It is a sort of 
 a soup made out of the blossoms of a 
 pretty blue flowering pea. The people 
 call it chilohe ; and when they learn that 
 the white man never saw it before, they 
 exclaim, " What a wretched country you 
 must live in, if you do not even have 
 chilobe!" But you and I know that 
 they haven't the least idea how many 
 other good things we have instead. 
 
 On one side of the market-place stand 
 some men curiously marked on their 
 backs, shoulders, and arms. They are 
 covered with patterns pricked into their 
 skins, — tattooed we should call it. 
 There are crosses, and half-moons, and 
 various other figures; and all the men 
 of one family have the same sort of 
 mark, so that you can tell, the minute 
 you see one of them, whether he is a 
 moon-man or a cross-man. They have 
 brought salt to sell ; for they live in a 
 place where the very earth tastes salt;
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 43 
 
 and if you take some of it, and wash it 
 carefully, you can wash out little crys- 
 tals of clear white salt. 
 
 The Bazungu has bought a pot of 
 fresh butter ; and when he eats his sup- 
 per that evening, the black people look 
 on with surprise to see him eat butter 
 raw, spread on his bread ; and Maunka 
 offers to melt it for him, that he may 
 dip his bread into it. That is the way 
 she would eat it. 
 
 And now I must tell you something 
 about the new country into which they 
 are coming. Already they have met lit- 
 tle rivers coming down from the moun- 
 tains, and the plains are covered with 
 tall grass, tall enough for tall men to 
 play hide-and-seek in ; and the buffalo 
 and rhinoceros are roaming there, think- 
 ing themselves safely hidden from hunt- 
 ers. 
 
 There is need of meat in the camp, 
 and Bazungu plans a great hunt. The 
 men take their bows and spears ; but the
 
 44 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 white man has a " gun with six mouths, 
 and the balls travel far and hit hard." 
 I suppose we should call it a six-barrel 
 revolver. 
 
 They leave the camp early one morn- 
 ing ; and as they will not return for two 
 days, the men carry their fumbas, or 
 sleeping-bags of palm-leaves, and the 
 little mosamela, or carved wooden pil- 
 low, hung over their shoulders. 
 
 First they shoot a zebra, which they 
 think gives "the king of good meat." 
 But the buffalo and rhinoceros are not 
 so easy to approach, for each is guarded 
 by a watchful little bird sitting on its 
 back, and looking out for danger; and 
 no sooner do the faithful little sentinels 
 catch a glimpse of spear or bow, than 
 the buffalo-bird calls out, " Cha, cha, 
 cha ! " and the rhinoceros-bird, " Tye, 
 tye, tye ! " as much as to say to their 
 clumsy friends, in their own pretty 
 language, " Scamper, scamper, quick, 
 1uick ! " and away gallop the great crea-
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 45 
 
 tures, and it is no easy matter to over- 
 take them. 
 
 But there is always something to be 
 had for dinner, when all else fails. You 
 know the guinea-hens with speckled 
 backs, and their funny call, " Come 
 back, come back ! " We see a few of 
 them here ; but in Manenko's land they 
 are very common, hundreds and thou 
 sands of them to be found everywhere ; 
 and our hunters can have roasted or 
 boiled guinea-hen, if nothing else : only, 
 m that case, poor Zungo will fare badly ; 
 for the heads and necks are his, and 
 very small indeed they are as payment 
 for cuttino" the hard liirnum-vitiB and 
 ebony for the firewood. The good Ba- 
 zungu, however, is kind and thoughtful, 
 and sometimes gives him a whole fowl 
 for dinner. 
 
 On the second day they kill two great 
 buflalo ; and as they cannot carry all 
 the meat at once to camp, a, part has to 
 be left among the bushes. When they
 
 46 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 go back for it, they hear a low growling, 
 and, approaching cautiously, see a great 
 lion tearing the buffalo-flesh and eating 
 it as fast as he can. Oh, what a pity, 
 after all their trouble in hunting ! And 
 Sekomi calls out boldly to the lion, 
 " Why don't you kill your own beef? 
 Are you a chief, and so mean as to steal 
 what other people have killed ? " For 
 Sekomi believes that some chiefs have 
 the power of turning themselves into 
 lions, just as people do in fairy-stories ; 
 and he thinks this lion is really a man, 
 and can understand what he says. But 
 the lion does not heed him: he only 
 growls, and goes on with his meal, and 
 the buffalo-meat is lost. 
 
 The white man cannot wait many 
 days for hunting, because he is on his 
 way to visit a great lake of which he 
 has heard, and to look for the source of 
 a long river of which you will know 
 more some day. So they are soon on 
 the march again ; and the days are
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 47 
 
 growing warmer and warmer, for it is 
 mid-summer in that country. Mid-sum- 
 mer, did I say? It is just the 25th of 
 December ; and do you know what day 
 that is ? " Christmas Day ! " you all ex- 
 claim. Yes, it is Christmas Day; and 
 the birds are singing, the corn is spring- 
 ing up, and the fields are full of gay 
 flowers. 
 
 You all know the little hiunming- 
 birds that you see dipping into the flow- 
 ers on a summer-day. In Manenko's 
 land there are not many humming-birds, 
 but tiny sun-birds instead, no bigger 
 than a great humble-bee, and fluttering 
 on swift-fanning wings over the pome- 
 granate-flowers. The little weaver-birds, 
 too, have put off* their winter clothes of 
 v«5ober brown, and are gayly dressed in 
 scarlet and black velvet. And here is 
 one little red-throated bird who has put 
 on a long train for summer wear, and 
 finds it as difficult to fly about with it 
 as some ladies do to walk with theirs.
 
 48 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 I wish you could see the goat-sucker 
 bird that Zungo caught, and brought 
 into camp on Christmas Day. He might 
 have followed it all day long, a month 
 ago, and yet have come home empty- 
 handed ; but the vain little bird is now 
 dressed with two very long feathers (as 
 long as your arm) growing out of each 
 wing, and trailing so heavily, that, al- 
 though at other times he flies too swiftly 
 for any one to catch him, he is now slow 
 and clumsy ; and Zungo caught him 
 without trouble. 
 
 In spite of the hunting, there is great 
 need of meat in the camp ; and some of 
 the men are sick, and cannot travel any 
 farther. 
 
 You may wonder why they can't buy 
 meat, as we do, of the butcher ; but, be- 
 sides the fact that there is no butcher, 
 there is another great objection, — there 
 is no meat. There are neither sheep 
 nor oxen in this part of the country ; foi 
 the enemy has driven them all away.
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 49 
 
 " What enemy," do you <ask ? 
 
 A little enemy not a thousandth part 
 as large as an ox, black and yellow in 
 color, and carrying a very sharp and 
 dangerous weapon. His name is tsetse, 
 and he is a terrible fly. He bites the 
 oxen and the sheep ; and they sicken, 
 and in a few days die. And so deter- 
 mined is this fierce little enemy, that no 
 sheep or oxen can live in the country 
 after he appears. For some reason of 
 his own, he doesn't bite goats ; and, 
 when the white man brought camels 
 and donkeys, it was because he thought 
 they, too, would be safe from the tsetse. 
 But he was mistaken; for although he 
 rubbed tliem with lion's fat to keep them 
 safe, knowing well tliat the tsetse will 
 not hurt the lion, yet they were bitten, 
 and one by one they died ; and now there 
 are not men enough to carry the loads 
 which the animals used to carry, and 
 neither is tliere meat to eat: so he de- 
 cides to send Zungo as a messenger to
 
 50 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 the great chief, Kabobo, who hves thirty 
 miles away in a town where there is 
 food in plenty. 
 
 He does not write a letter ; for none 
 of these people can read ; but this is the 
 message that he teaches to Zimgo, and 
 Zungo must say it over and over to him- 
 self as he travels along, that he may be 
 sure not to forget it. 
 
 " Bazungu needs ten strong men, and 
 goats and corn. He will pay cloth and 
 beads, and he sends you this present to 
 let you know his friendship." 
 
 The present was a red shirt, and a 
 strinsT of clear white beads. It was 
 carefully wrapped in palm-leaves, and 
 Zungo carried it on his head. 
 
 Over and over again he repeated his 
 message, and did not forget a single 
 word ; and in four days his joyful shout 
 was heard in the distance, and he and 
 his ten men were soon welcomed with 
 clapping of hands. Kabobo had sent 
 corn and palm - wine, and goats, and
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 51 
 
 begged the great Bazungu to visit him 
 very soon. 
 
 But Bazungu cannot visit any one at 
 present ; for the hot, clamp weather has 
 made him very ill. He lies in his hut, 
 burning with fever ; and poor little Ma- 
 nenko, too, lies on a mat beside her 
 mother, with hot, fevered hands, and dry, 
 quick breath. But, though he is so ill 
 himself, the stranger, when he hears of 
 the sick child, prepares for her a bitter 
 little powder like the one he is taking 
 himself. Of coarse, the little girl doesn't 
 like the bitter taste of it; but the next 
 day she is better, and able to sit up, and 
 soon she can go with her mother to say 
 " Motota " to the kind Bazumi-u. 
 
 Don't forget this bitter medicine, for 
 you will hear of it again Ijcfore you fin- 
 ish this book. 
 
 In a few days they are all able to go 
 to Kabobo's village ; and there, for the 
 first time in her life, Manenko sees a 
 Hcjuare house : there are two ov three of
 
 52 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 them in the village, built by people who 
 have travelled away to the seacoast, and 
 there seen houses like them. 
 
 Around Kabobo's town are pleasant 
 fields and gardens; and every thing is 
 growing finely, excepting one patch of 
 corn, which the men say they planted in 
 the mouse-month, and so lost half of it, 
 for the mice ate the seeds. 
 
 One meadow is covered with pure lit- 
 tle white lilies ; and some medlar-bushes 
 hang thick with blossoms. Among the 
 tall reeds you hear the brown ibis 
 scream, " Ha, ha, ha I"" and flocks of 
 green pigeons are feeding on the fruits 
 of the wild fig-tree. Certainly it is a 
 pleasant place ; and, after their long 
 journey, Sekomi's family think that here 
 they will make their new home. 
 
 The women of the village look up 
 pleasantly as they pass, and say, " Yam- 
 bo ? " ("How are you?") And they 
 answer, " Yambo sana." (" Very well.") 
 Everybody seems kind, and glad to see 
 the travellers.
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 53 
 
 So Maunka begins at once to build 
 a new house. And then she finds fine 
 clay, and shapes new water-jars, smooth- 
 ins; them into their beautiful rounded 
 forms with her hands, and marking them 
 on the edge with pretty braided pat- 
 terns like this which you see in the pic- 
 ture. And soon the new house is well 
 provided ; for twenty pots for water, for 
 honey, and for porridge, hang from the 
 ceilinii;. 
 
 But no sooner has Maunka built her 
 house than another builder comes quiet- 
 ly in, and goes to work to build hers in 
 one corner of it. It is the paper spider ; 
 and Manenko sees her lay her forty or 
 fifty eggs upon the wall, and then begin 
 to make her pure white paper house to 
 shelter tliem. She thinks the mother- 
 spider is not so different from any other 
 mother; and, instead of driving her 
 away, she watches wliilc the careful 
 builder prepares her little paper wall, 
 half as big iia the palm of Edith's hand,
 
 54 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 and then fastens it firmly over the eggs 
 by a strip not wider than your finger- 
 nail, pasted strongly all round the edges 
 
 For three long weeks she sits, like a 
 mother-bird on her eggs, to keep them 
 warm ; after that she goes out for food 
 in the day, but always comes back to 
 cuddle them closely at night ; and Ma- 
 nenko is never afraid for her, but watches 
 every day to see when the little ones 
 will come out of the eggs. 
 
 Sekomi has been busy planting corn, 
 and also some seeds that the white man 
 has given him, and they already feel at 
 home. 
 
 Their g-ood friend the Bazuno-u has 
 tried to give them one present better 
 even than the cloth, or the beads, or the 
 garden-seeds : he has tried to teach 
 Zungo and Manenko to read. But, oh, 
 what hard work it is ! You have no 
 idea of the difficulty; and at last one 
 day poor Zungo says in despair, " 
 Bazungu I give me medicine : I shall
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 55 
 
 drink it to make me understand." But 
 you and I know that the only medicine 
 that can make us learn is patience and 
 perseverance ; and even Zungo will learn 
 in time, if he has these. 
 
 You will all see by and by that even 
 the little knowledge of reading and 
 speaking English that he gained is a 
 help to him ; for a few months later, 
 another white man comes from the north 
 to Kabobo's village ; and when he finds 
 that Zungo can read a little, and under- 
 stands some words of English, he hires 
 him as an interpreter, and promises to 
 take him on a long journey, pay him 
 well, and send him safely home again. 
 
 And now, before we leave them in 
 their new home, I must tell you of one 
 thing that happens to Manenko. She is 
 getting to be a great girl ; and it is time 
 for her to begin to wear the pelele. 
 
 But what is the pelele ? 
 
 It is an ivory ring, but not for the fin- 
 ger, or even for the ears. This poor chilr'
 
 56 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 is going to have her upper lip bored; 
 and this ring will be put into the hole, 
 not to hang down, but to stand out 
 straight and flat in a very inconvenient 
 way ; but everybody thought it was 
 beautiful, and, even if the little girl finds 
 it painful, she will not complain, but will 
 consider it quite an honor. Her second 
 teeth have come now ; and they must be 
 filed away to points, so that they look 
 like a cat's little sharp teeth, and then 
 she is thought to look very pretty indeed. 
 The white man has made a picture of 
 her, dressed in her best beads, and carry- 
 ing a pretty new water-jar on her head. 
 He will take it home to his own dear 
 daughter, that she may learn how her 
 little dark sisters look in this far-away 
 land.
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING ALL 
 THIS TIME? 
 
 We have Ijeen wandering through 
 strange, wild lands. Come with me now 
 to a great city. But I doubt if you feel 
 more at home in it than you did on 
 Agoonack's ice-island, or Manenko's long 
 journey ; for it is not at all like any city 
 you have ever seen ; not like Boston or 
 New York, not like St. Louis or Chi- 
 cago. 
 
 Let us stand still for a minute, if we 
 can find a quiet spot in this narrow, 
 crowded street, and see what it is like. 
 It is Sunday afternoon ; but we hear no 
 church-bells, and -all the business seems 
 to be going on just the same as on a 
 week-day. 
 
 " Don't these people have any Sun- 
 day ? " asks Dadie. 
 
 57
 
 58 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 Oh, yes ! but their Sunday is Friday. 
 On Friday they will go to their churches, 
 and have their services ; but to-day is 
 their market-day, and, in ahnost all the 
 towns we may visit in this country, we 
 shall find a Sunday market. 
 
 We are close beside a shop now, but, 
 oh ! what a funny shop ! hardly bigger 
 than a cupboard ; and the whole side 
 towards the street is open. Will you 
 buy some of these sugared almonds, or 
 a few delicious golden dates, of that 
 turbaned man who sits so quietly in 
 the corner, and doesn't seem to care 
 whether we buy or not ? If we want 
 either dates or almonds, we must take a 
 piastre out of our pockets to pay for 
 them; for a bright silver dime, or a five- 
 cent piece would be something so new 
 and strange to our shop-keeper, that he 
 would shake his head, and hand it back 
 to you. 
 
 But we mustn't spend too much time 
 buying dates. There is something bet-
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 59 
 
 ter to do in this wonderful city, where 
 even the houses are curious enough to 
 make us stop, and gaze at them. See 
 the pretty balconies built out around the 
 windows, and sheltered by screens or 
 shutters of beautifully carved wood. I 
 fancy we can catch a glimpse of some 
 bright eyes peeping out at us through 
 the delicate lattice-work ; for all the 
 ladies of this city sit wdth their little 
 daughters all day long in these balco- 
 nies, and look out through the screens, on 
 the streets below them, and on the pass- 
 ers-by. And the flocks of pretty ring- 
 doves sit cooing about them ; and the 
 swallows fly in and out ; and sometimes 
 even the vultures aliti:ht there for a mo- 
 ment, and no one drives them away; for 
 wliat would become of the people and 
 the city, if the faithful vultures did not 
 clean the streets every day ? 
 
 But, quick, we must crowd ourselves 
 close to the wall, and keep out of the 
 way of that tall, brown camel who paces
 
 60 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 up the street so silently, that we heard 
 no footfall, and did not know he was 
 coming until his long shadow fell across 
 us from behind. He moves up the nar- 
 row lane as if the whole of it belonged 
 to him, for he has come from the desert, 
 where there is plenty of room, and he 
 has no idea of being crowded ; and those 
 donkeys, with their wild-looking little 
 drivers, must get out of his way as best 
 they can. How they scramble, and how 
 the boys shout to them ! but the silent 
 camel moves on towards the fountain in 
 the next square, and takes no notice at 
 all of their noise. He is loaded with 
 great bales of gum ; and his master is 
 going to sell them to the gum-merchant 
 at the corner of the square. 
 
 I wonder if you will remember the 
 master, this gray-faced man, with his 
 white turban and loose cotton dress. It 
 is really Abdel Hassan ; but you didn't 
 expect to meet him a city, did you ? 
 Little Gemila is with him too ; that is,
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 61 
 
 she is in the camp outside the city gates 
 (for this city has walls and gates, and is 
 shut up every night) ; and to-morrow 
 she will come into the strange streets 
 with her little brother Alee and one of 
 the servants, to look about her, as we 
 were doing just now when we had to 
 start aside, and make way for her father's 
 camel. 
 
 I wish we could take little Gemila's 
 hand, and walk with her through the city 
 to-morrow, and see how wonderful it 
 would all be to her. 
 
 The donkeys with their high-cushioned 
 red saddles, and the camels with their 
 noiseless tread, the red fez caps and tur- 
 bans, and the women with long veils, and 
 bright eyes peering through the little 
 slit that is left open for them, — these 
 would not be strange to her ; but the 
 many beautiful fountains meeting you 
 at every corner with a refreshing drink, 
 that is something to astonish our little 
 desert maiden, who generally has drunk
 
 62 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 water only from leathern bags or desert 
 springs. And the houses that crowd so 
 close on both sides of the street, and 
 shut out the sky, so that she sees only 
 one narrow strip of blue instead of her 
 wide desert dome ; and the bazaars, 
 where people are hustling each other, 
 and shouting, and bargaining for shawls 
 and slippers, gold lace, and silk embroi- 
 deries ; these are things almost unheard 
 of to the little girl, whose only garment 
 has been the brown cotton dress. 
 
 There is one thing, however, at which 
 Gemila is never tired of looking : she 
 could sit and watch it from morning till 
 night, so strange, so wonderful, does it 
 seem to her. This is not her first sight 
 of it, as you will presently learn. But so 
 strange a sight does not lose its newness 
 very soon ; and so it is that whenever, in 
 looking down a street, she sees at the 
 end the broad river sparkling in the sun- 
 shine, she leaves every other sight for 
 that, and runs to sit beside it, and see
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 63 
 
 the ripples dance along, and the boats 
 with their pointed blue-and-white sails, 
 and the sailors rowing, and singing to 
 keep time for their oars. 
 
 But you will want to know how it 
 happened that Gemila left her desert 
 home, and surprised us by appearing in 
 the streets of Cairo ; and I must go back 
 two or three months, and tell you all 
 about it; for, like Manenko, she, too, has 
 taken a long and wonderful journey, at 
 least, it seems wonderful to you and me, 
 for we are not so accustomed to travel- 
 ling as she is. 
 
 I think it was about Christmas time, a 
 hot desert Christmas, remember, that 
 Abdel Hassan was journeying as usual 
 from one part of his wide desert home 
 to another, when he met the caravan 
 from Kordofan, with thirty camel-loads 
 of gum, on its way to the great city of 
 Cairo. 
 
 I know you must have seen the gum 
 that oozes out from the peach and pJum
 
 64 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 trees in such clear, sticky drops ; or, at 
 any rate, if you don't know that, you 
 have seen gum-arabic, which you can 
 buy at the druggists. Now, on the bor- 
 ders of the desert, a great many gum- 
 trees groAv ; and the great, clear drops 
 of gum ooze out of them, as they do 
 from the peach-tree, only there is much 
 more of it, so that it lies on the ground 
 in little lumps, under the trees; and 
 children as young as Gemila and Alee 
 go out to help gather it; and the men 
 pack it in great bags, and load the camels 
 with it, and set out on a long desert 
 march of many, many miles, to sell it in 
 the distant city, and to buy, in return, 
 cloth and guns, shawls and turbans ; just 
 as the Sheik Hassein did whom Abdel 
 Hassan met one day long ago, you re- 
 member. The Kordofan sheik meets 
 Abdel Hassan gladly, and, dismounting 
 from his horse, sits beside him on a mat, 
 and tells him that to see him is like the 
 blessing of a new moon. And an Arab
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 65 
 
 can hardly express greater pleasure than 
 that. Then they smoke their long pipes, 
 and drink coffee together, and finally 
 the sheik explains that he wants more 
 camels to help carry the gum ; and, after 
 much talk, he agrees to buy two camels 
 of Abdel Hassan, and to pay him with 
 bales of gum. And Abdel Hassan, to 
 whom one part of the world is as much 
 home as another, decides to journey 
 himself to Cairo, and sell the gum. 
 And, since he goes, his whole family will 
 go too. 
 
 So the next day they turn their faces 
 northward, and travel towards Cairo, 
 having first asked the Kordofan mer- 
 chants how far it is to the next spring. 
 
 Their question is answered in a curious 
 way ; for, as these people have not many 
 words, they make one answer the pur- 
 pose of two or three. Let me show you 
 how they do it. If the spring had been 
 very near, they woidd have answered, 
 " Henak; " but, as it is a very long dis-
 
 66 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 tance away, they make the word very 
 long, and say, " Hen-a-a-a-a-ak," and it 
 isn't so poor a way of telling distance 
 after all, is it ? 
 
 You know so well what Gemila's 
 journeys generally are, that I will not 
 tell you much about this, excepting the 
 one or two unusual events of it. The 
 first of these happened on New- Year's 
 Day, and made it any thing but a happy 
 new year. It wasn't a snow-storm; but 
 it was a sand-storm. The air was hot 
 and hazy : you could scarcely see the 
 sun, although there were no clouds to 
 hide him ; and presently all this sultry 
 air began to stir, and whistle, and rush, 
 and whirl ; and the light, dry sand was 
 caught up by it, blown into drifts as high 
 as a tall man, driven into every fold of 
 the dress or turban, into every eye and 
 ear and nostril, with a cutting, stinging 
 keenness such as we might feel in a 
 fierce, wild snow-storm in one of our 
 bitter winter-days, only it is hot and 
 tingling, instead of cold and tingling.
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 67 
 
 You could perhaps bear this for a few 
 minutes, but not longer ; and this terrible 
 storm lasted two hours. At first the 
 men only unfolded the cloth of their 
 turbans so as to wrap it round the face 
 and ears; and the women and children 
 drew veils over their heads : but it was 
 impossible to continue to travel in such 
 a storm. And when they saw a great 
 rock not far away, standing like a tall, 
 black tower or fortress in the yellow 
 sand, Abdel Hassan was not slow in leap- 
 ing from his black horse, and planting 
 his spear, as a sign that they should en- 
 camp in this welcome shelter. 
 
 Here they lay, and heard the great 
 whistling wind drive through every 
 cranny and crevice ; and at last they saw 
 a tall pillar of sand whirled up by the 
 wind until it seemed to reach the sky. 
 It moved along in a stately sort of waltz, 
 round and round, and still advancing over 
 the burning sands, and presently it was 
 joined by another, and another, and the
 
 68 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 strange monsters moved on like a party 
 of giants pleasing themselves by a wild 
 desert dance ; and it was well for little 
 Gemila that the wind carried them away 
 from, instead of towards, her shelterins: 
 rock; for who would have been able to 
 stand against those terrible, strong, 
 blinding whirls of sand that the fierce 
 wind had raised? 
 
 When at last the sun could be seen 
 again, and the wind slowly died away, 
 our poor travellers lay tired and fever- 
 ish, and as little able to proceed on their 
 way as if they had been ill for many 
 days. 
 
 But a cool and quiet night refreshed 
 them, and early in the morning they are 
 up and away. The only signs that the 
 sand-storm had left behind were great 
 yellow drifts, some of them as high as 
 a house, that hid the track, and confused 
 even Abdel Hassan himself as to which 
 direction he should take to reach the 
 bitter wells, their next drinking-place.
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 69 
 
 And so it happened that they rode 
 doubtfully on during all that morning, 
 and, after the noonday rest, changed 
 their line of march a little more towards 
 the north, and looked eagerly forward 
 for the first distant glimpse of the tufted 
 top of a palm- tree. 
 
 And Gemila is the first to clap her 
 hands, and shout, '■ Look, look I " while 
 she points towards the distant horizon ; 
 and there against the blue sky stand 
 clusters of feathery palms beside a pret- 
 ty pond of water, that looks like a bit 
 of the sky itself dropped down to rest 
 upon the yellow sands, and in the 
 water's edge tall reeds are growing, and 
 on the farther shore stand black rocks 
 overhanging their black reflections in 
 the water. Oh, what a lovely little 
 place ! — the prettiest spring that the 
 child has ever seen. But although she 
 claps her hands, and shouts for joy, her 
 father shows no signs of pleasure ; and 
 the camel-drivers only shake their heads,
 
 70 EACH AND. ALL. 
 
 and look sober; and neither do the cam- 
 els nor horses hasten forward, as they 
 usually do when they smell the fresh 
 water from afar. 
 
 " See," says old Achmet to the little 
 girl, " see, it is not a true spring : those 
 are not real palm-trees. Watch them, 
 and you will know that I tell you the 
 truth." 
 
 And Gemila watched ; and presently 
 some of the trees seemed to be standing 
 on their heads, and the pretty blue pond 
 ran into the sky, as if there were no 
 line between -, and Achmet said to her, 
 "If it were real water, it would look 
 darker than the sky ; but this is just the 
 same color." And, as she w\atched, a 
 silvery blur came over it all, and she 
 rubbed her eyes to see more plainly; 
 but when she looked again, it was all 
 gone, and the desolate waste of yellow 
 sand lay before them. It was only a 
 beautiful air-picture, which is called a 
 mirage ; and wise desert travellers like
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 71 
 
 Abdel Hassan and Aclimet know it 
 well ; but strangers or children are de- 
 ceived by it, and wander out of their 
 way to find the refreshing place, which 
 vanishes into silver mist, and leaves 
 them to turn back disappointed, if in- 
 deed they are able to find the path at 
 all. 
 
 You will be glad to know that before 
 sunset they did reach a real spring or 
 well of bitter water, not very good, but 
 better than nothing ; and the camels 
 drank, and the water-bags were filled, 
 and they went on as before. 
 
 And now every day they see some- 
 thing new. There are valleys walled in 
 by black rocks ; and there are strange 
 caves, where they sometimes camp at 
 night ; and at last, one day, they see 
 before them everywhere groves of trees, 
 — date, lemon, citron, and acacia, and 
 many others ; and, as they turn out of 
 the rocky valley, the men raise a great 
 shout, "El bahr, el bahr ! " ("The river,
 
 72 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 the river!") The broad, blue, rolling 
 water lies before them ; and this is 
 Gemila's first sight of the river. Now 
 it will keep them company for days and 
 days as they journey along its banks, 
 and drink of its waters, and hear its rip- 
 pling waves at night as they lie in the 
 caves along its shores, and feel its cool 
 breeze refreshing them after the terrible 
 desert heat. 
 
 One night they reach a great rock 
 filled with caves like little rooms of a 
 house, and all the walls inside are paint- 
 ed with strange pictures. 
 
 You know we sometimes take a pic- 
 ture, and make up a story about it, tell- 
 ing what we think this or that person is 
 doing, or where he is going; but these 
 pictures tell stories themselves, — that is 
 what they were painted there for, — and 
 there is a long, hard name for them, 
 which means something like picture- 
 writing. 
 
 Gemila sees one wall all marked out
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 73 
 
 in bright colors, — red, blue, green, and 
 yellow pictures, telling how a family 
 had visitors to dine, and how the cooks 
 prepared the dishes, and how the baby 
 sat in his mother's lap and watched the 
 guests, and how the cats and dogs lived 
 and played with them just as they do 
 with you to-day ; only nobody in all 
 those pictures was ever seen to hurt or 
 trouble any animal ; and when I tell you 
 that the people who painted them lived 
 thousands of years ago, you will wonder, 
 as I do, that we can still see them so 
 plainly. I think they had very good 
 paints : don't you? They couldn't write 
 as we do now, and they wanted all the 
 story of their lives — what they did, and 
 where they went, and what little chil- 
 dren they had to love and take care of 
 — to be remembered : so they had it all 
 painted on these hard rocks, that would 
 not wear out as the leaves of books do ; 
 and there you and I could see it this 
 very day, just as Gemila does when she
 
 74 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 wakes at early morning, and creeps up 
 over the steep rocks, and looks at the 
 pictures, where the long rays of the 
 rising sun shine far into the caves. 
 There is a red man with a green head, 
 driving four horses harnessed to a char- 
 iot ; and a little blue girl is feeding the 
 pigeons, just as we should want to feed 
 the living pigeons that flutter in such 
 great flocks around every village, and 
 sleep in the funny, tall pigeon-houses 
 made of earthen jars on the top of 
 almost every house. 
 
 You see, now that they have reached 
 the river, they find villages all along its 
 banks ; and, for the first time in her life, 
 Gemila learns what houses are, and 
 thinks that she likes a tent better ; and 
 she sees waving fields of golden \vheat, 
 and the rice growing in the low mead- 
 ows; and she tastes the gingerbread 
 that grows on the dom-palm tree. She 
 watches the brown ibis, and the stork 
 ind vulture, busy at their work of clean-
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 75 
 
 ing the village streets, picking up and 
 eating up all the dirty and disagreeable 
 things that the careless people have 
 thrown there, which would otherwise 
 soon decay and cause sickness. 
 
 Our little girl has hardly time to sleep, 
 there is so much to see. The children, 
 too, are so different in some ways from 
 herself! Here is one little orirl butterino- 
 her hair with a thick layer of not very 
 sweet butter; and another has all her 
 braids soaked in castor oil, and thinks it 
 charming. They can swim too; and 
 you may very vvell know that Gemila, 
 who has never before seen a river, or 
 even a lake, has never learned to swim ; 
 and when she sees the girls and boys 
 splashing in the water, she laughs and 
 shouts witli delight. One little boy sits 
 astride a round log for a boat, and steers 
 himself across the stream. How she 
 wishes she could do the same ! 
 
 But, if I stop to tell you all the won- 
 ders of the way, we shall never reach
 
 76 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 Cairo : so let us hurry on, past the great 
 stone pyramids standing so grand in the 
 desert, and past the wonderful stone 
 image with head like a person, and fore- 
 paws like a lion, and all the rest of its 
 body buried in sand, that looked so 
 grand and solemn in the moonlight as 
 they met it suddenly on their march the 
 last evening before reaching Cairo. The 
 great solemn face, ten yards in length, 
 looking out over the desert sands, seemed 
 to have a thousand wonderful stories to 
 tell of all that it had seen since the men 
 of ages ago carved it out of the great 
 rock; but it told none of them to the 
 little awe-struck Arab girl, nor to the 
 camel-drivers, who hastened to pitch 
 the red-and-black striped tent, and un- 
 load their camels for the night, as if the 
 great face were not watching them all 
 the while. 
 
 Very early in the morning, while sky 
 and sand are covered with rosy light, 
 Gemila is wandering among the strange,
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 77 
 
 great rocks, watching the lizards' little 
 red or blue tails disappearing through 
 the cracks as they glide away from her, 
 and the little jerboas sitting outside their 
 sand' houses. But already the camels 
 are loaded, and the tents are struck, and 
 to-day she will see the gates of Cairo. 
 
 I wish I had time to tell you of all 
 that may be seen in that city ; but we 
 are leading an Arab life now, and do not 
 stop long in any one place : and so it 
 is that one day, when the Khamaseen 
 wind begins to blow, Abdel Hassan is 
 reminded of the desert ; the old wan- 
 dering feeling comes over him, and he 
 says he will stay no longer in Cairo. 
 
 But perhaps you do not know why 
 the Khamaseen wind should remind him 
 of the desert. It has come from the 
 desert, and it fills all the air with a fine 
 yellow dust that is borrowed from the 
 yellow sand on the way. They call it 
 Khamaseen, because, in the language of 
 that country, Kliamaseen means fifty;
 
 78 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 and for fifty days this hot wind blows 
 most of the time. It has reminded Ab- 
 del Hassan of his old home, and he must 
 begin to think of his return. 
 
 But he has sold his camels, as well as 
 his gum ; and what is an Arab without 
 camels? True, he has money enough 
 to buy more than he has ever owned 
 before, but he will buy them better from 
 the desert tribes than here in Cairo ; 
 and so it happens that a new way of life 
 offers itself for him and his family. They 
 will go in a Nile boat as far as Korosko ; 
 and there, where the river makes a great 
 curve like the letter C, and half encir- 
 cles a desert, they will leave it, and be- 
 gin again their life among the rocks and 
 sand. 
 
 This is a delightful journey to Gemila 
 and Alee : they are learning to love the 
 river, and to know what a mighty friend 
 it is to all the country. We who live 
 by a river can tell how useful it is in 
 many ways to our own country; but
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 79 
 
 this great river Nile is more useful to its 
 country than any of our rivers are to us. 
 Before Gemila reaches her desert home, 
 she will see a very remarkable change 
 in it. Now its waters roll quietly on in 
 a narrow channel ; but in a few weeks 
 they will rise and rise higher and higher 
 every day, and presently all the country 
 on both sides will be flooded like a great 
 lake. " Ah ! " you say, " what will be- 
 come of all the poor people and the 
 houses ? " 
 
 Do not be anxious about them ; for 
 they have seen the river behave in this 
 way every year since they were born, 
 and they have built all their houses on 
 high land for safety; and they watch the 
 rising of the water with delight, for it 
 comes as a messenger of good-will to tell 
 them of fruitful fields and fine harvests, 
 since it waters for them the fields on 
 which no rain ever falls. Only think of 
 that : Gemila has never seen rain ! I 
 have heard it said that there is a great
 
 80 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 shower in the desert, perhaps once in 
 ten or twenty years ; but our little girl 
 is only nine years old, and it hasn't come 
 in her time. Think how dry and desolate 
 the whole country would be if it were 
 not that this good friend the river gath- 
 ers all the rains and melted snows from 
 the mountain countries far away, even 
 as far as those hills towards which Ma- 
 nenko travelled, and pours them down 
 through hundreds of miles to bless and 
 refresh this thirsty land. 
 
 In our country we have four seasons ; 
 and when the snow is all gone, and the 
 birds begin to come, and the farmers 
 prepare to plant their seeds, we call it 
 spring ; summer brings the flowers and 
 fruits, and autumn is harvest time ; 
 then comes winter, which Dossie and 
 Edith like best of all. But in this land 
 where Gemila is travelling, the river 
 alone decides what the seasons shall be. 
 
 When the water begins to rise, it is 
 hke a promise of spring to the farmer ;
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 81 
 
 and so regularly does it rise and fall, that 
 he knows well, that, when November 
 comes, he must have his seed ready for 
 planting ; for the river will have fallen, 
 and the rich, damp slime will be left by 
 its waters upon the fields : so we may 
 call November his spring-time. And 
 when the wheat and rice are well grown 
 in the damp fields, and need only a 
 greater heat to ripen them, then comes 
 the Khamaseen wind, and hastens the 
 harvest ; and that must bring autumn ; 
 and, after autumn, do you think they 
 expect snow ? Oh, no, indeed ! They 
 have never seen snow, and only once in 
 a while a little ice. But a dry, hot time 
 comes, when nothing will grow, and the 
 river has shrunk away again into its old 
 narrow bed ; and you may call the sea- 
 son by what name you like, only the 
 people are very glad when it ends, and 
 the friendly river begins to rise again ; 
 and that is about the last of June. 
 But all this while the river has been
 
 82 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 floating our travellers clown to Korosko ; 
 and here Abclel Hassan buys his camels, 
 and among them one beautiful milk- 
 white dromedary, a camel with one 
 hump upon its back instead of two. 
 This gentle creature trots and runs with 
 so easy and steady a motion that its 
 rider might drink a cup of milk while 
 going at a full trot, and not spill a single 
 drop. Wouldn't you like to have that 
 dromedary to ride on, little Georgie ? 
 Do you think Gemila will ride it ? Oh, 
 no ! it is to have quite a different rider : 
 for in this little town by the river an 
 English gentleman and his wife are wait- 
 ing for guides and camels to cross the 
 desert to Abou Hammed ; and when this 
 gentleman sees the gentle white drom- 
 edary, he thinks that nothing could be 
 more easy and comfortable for his wife's 
 riding on this hard journey ; and he hires 
 both Abdel Hassan and his camels to 
 cross the desert with him. 
 
 Six months ago little Gemila would
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 83 
 
 have been lost in wonder at seeing the 
 white people ; but in Cairo she saw, every 
 day, people from Europe and from Amer- 
 ica, and she recognizes them at once, and 
 stretches out her little brown hand for 
 backsheesh (a present), feeling pretty 
 sure that they will give it. 
 
 And now there are great preparations 
 for this desert journey. The women 
 have made crisp abreys, baked in the 
 sun, and plenty of kisras of dhura flour. 
 New water-bags are made of gazelle- 
 skins, and a whole sheep is roasted. 
 Just before they are ready to start, the 
 women of the village hurry into camp 
 with baskets of milk to sell. The heat 
 will soon turn it sour ; but in that coun- 
 try sour milk is thought an excellent 
 drink. 
 
 This is a part of the desert quite new 
 to Gemilii ; but her father travelled there 
 many years ago, and knows it well. The 
 sand is gray, instead of yellow ; and there 
 are all sorts of odd round stones strewn
 
 84 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 everywhere, as if some giants had been 
 playing a game of ball, and had neg- 
 lected to put away their playthings. If 
 we should break open one of these black 
 balls, we should find it hollow, and filled 
 with bright red sand ; though how the 
 sand came there, or the pebbles either, I 
 am at a loss to tell you. 
 
 Presently one of the camels runs his 
 head into a kittar-bush for a mouthful 
 of its spiny leaves ; and since you know 
 Manenko's wait-a-bit thorn, I will also 
 introduce you to this kittar-bush, which 
 is its own cousin, only twice as strong, 
 and it clutches with such a hold that it 
 ought to have a name meaning, " stop 
 entirely ; " and many is the long tear in 
 dress or turban that the kittar-bushes 
 give them before they reach the end of 
 their journey. 
 
 Gemila also makes the acquaintance of 
 some monkeys that are found one day, 
 poor, thirsty creatures, digging wells for 
 themselves in the sand — only think how
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 85 
 
 wise they are ; and she sees the tal] 
 milkweed plants, with their pretty, siL 
 very fish for seeds ; but old Achmet tells 
 her not to touch them, for they are very 
 poisonous, and only the goats can eat 
 them with safety. 
 
 They are coming now to the land of 
 wild asses and of guinea-hens. Who was 
 it that had guinea-hens for dinner when- 
 ever there was nothhig else to be had ? 
 Do you think we are near Manenko's 
 country ? And after three weary weeks 
 they come, one beautiful evening, again 
 in sight of the river and the villages ; and 
 an old sheik hastens out to meet them, 
 and says, "Salaam aleikum " (Peace be 
 with you,") and welcomes them to his 
 hut. 
 
 I said they had reached the land of 
 guinea-hens: it also l)egins to Ije the 
 land of round houses witli ])()inted roofs ; 
 but the houses are of stone, and the roofs 
 only of reeds nnd straw. A change, too, 
 has come in the weatlier, a very remark-
 
 86 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 able change for our desert people. There 
 is going to be a rainy season ! When 
 the first shower comes, our foolish little 
 Gemila stands still in wonder, gets wet 
 through, and the next day lies on her 
 little mat, and begins to feel very ill, so 
 ill that her mother goes to the fakir for 
 some medicine. 
 
 Now, we all know that medicine is dis- 
 agreeable enough to take, but any one 
 of you will take it for the sake of getting 
 well ; and you will be interested to know 
 what Gemila' s medicine is, and how she 
 takes it. 
 
 The old fakir listens to her mother's 
 account of the child's illness ; and then 
 he takes down a little board which hano-s 
 beside his door, plasters it over with 
 lime, and then writes upon it some words 
 from the Koran, which is the Arab's 
 Bible. When all is finished, he washes 
 it off, plaster, ink, and all, into a gourd 
 cup ; and that is the medicine. Very 
 disagreeable indeed, I think ; and, what
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 87 
 
 is worse, I am afraid it won't make her 
 well. I wish she had one of those bitter 
 white powders that Bazunga gave to Ma- 
 nenko. Perhaps the English lady, who 
 always has been kind to the little girl, 
 will be able to help her. 
 
 When the mother has waited three 
 days for the fakir's medicine to cure her 
 sick little daughter, and each day she 
 has grown worse instead of better, she 
 goes to the tent outside the village, 
 where the English people are living, and 
 tells the " sity," as she calls her, that 
 poor little Gemila will die if she cannot 
 have some medicine to make her better. 
 And, only think, the '' sity " has some 
 of those same bitter powders, and she 
 comes herself to ii-ive one to the child, 
 and leaves another to be taken next 
 da}'; and, although it is a very long tune 
 before Gemila can run and play as usual, 
 she begins slowly to recover ; and in a 
 week or two she is able to sit l)y the 
 river, aud watch the boys floating on
 
 88 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 their rafts of ambatch wood, which is a 
 very safe phiything in the water, for it 
 is Hghter than cork.>( And in the early 
 morning she creeps out to see the beauti- 
 ful lotus-flowers flash open to the sun- 
 light. 
 
 One day a white man's caravan comes 
 into the village : there are camels and 
 donkeys and men from the far south, the 
 mountain country where the great river 
 gathers its waters. The white man's 
 face is as brown as an Arab's, he has 
 travelled so lono; in the hot sunshine. 
 His men have woolly hair, strangely 
 plaited and matted together, and dressed 
 in such a way as to look like high hel- 
 mets of thick felt. They are smeared 
 with grease, and adorned with cowrie- 
 shells and bracelets of ivory ; and among 
 them is Zungo, the brother of Manenko. 
 You remember a white man came and 
 took him on a journey ; and here we find 
 him beside the river Nile, and our little 
 Gemila is looking up at him, and wonder-
 
 WHAT WAS GEMILA DOING? 89 
 
 ing if he has a little sister at home with 
 woolly hair like his own. Of course she 
 never knew any thing about Mauenko ; 
 but it happens that at this place Zungo's 
 master is to leave him, or rather send 
 him back to his home ; and the English 
 gentleman, who will go southward next 
 month, is very glad to engage him as a 
 servant and interpreter. And now he, 
 for the first time in his life, is paid for 
 his services with money. 
 
 You remember what the Bazunga 
 paid him for cutting the wood and mak- 
 ing the fires, and afterwards he had a 
 yard of cloth a day when he travelled as 
 interpreter. Now the English gentleman 
 shows him a large roimd silver piece of 
 money. A picture of a lady's head is on 
 one side, and some figures on the other. 
 What it is worth he don't know at all, 
 but you and I would call it a dollar. 
 When Zungo wants a name for it, he 
 calls it, as the other men do, " the father 
 of buttons ; " and when the new master
 
 90 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 promises to pay him with just such silver 
 pieces, he soon learns that here at Abou 
 Hammed they will buy food and clothes, 
 and any thing else that he wants, provided 
 only that he has enough of them. He 
 stays a month in the village, for it is not 
 best to start until the heaviest rains are 
 over ; and he becomes good friends with 
 Gemila and Alee, as well as with their 
 father. 
 
 When the day arrives for the English 
 gentleman's caravan to depart for the 
 south, little Gemila, who is now quite 
 well, and will start with her father to- 
 morrow for her old desert home, brings 
 a big bead, such as the Arabs call a 
 pigeon's egg, and sends it as a present 
 to Manenko, the little sister that she has 
 never seen.
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIK 
 
 Do you remember that Pen-se did not 
 always live in the boat on the river? It 
 was in the tea-country among the hills 
 that she was born ; and now she is going 
 back again to a place very near her old 
 home ; for a letter has come from her 
 uncle in the Hoo-chow country, asking 
 her father to come up and help him upon 
 his silk-farm; and very soon the boat 
 and the ducks are sold to his nei2:hl)or 
 Ah-foo, and Kang-hy and his wife, with 
 their three children, are on their way to 
 the Hoo-chow country. 
 
 Even the little girl can work on the 
 silk-farm ; and you will realize that when 
 you see what a silk-farm is. 
 
 Here are rows and rows of low, bushy 
 midberry - trees ; and every morning,
 
 92 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 while the leaves are fresh with dew, the 
 two little girls and their mother go out 
 with their baskets to gather them ; and 
 we will follow, and see what they do 
 next. We carry our baskets to a bam- 
 boo house with curtained windows, 
 standing cool and quiet at the farther 
 side of the field. Kang-hy is there be- 
 fore us; and, when he sees our fresh 
 leaves, he opens the door a little way, 
 and says, "Go in carefully : don't dis- 
 turb them ; " and then he quickly shuts 
 the door, for fear of letting in too much 
 light. 
 
 Do you think there is a baby asleep 
 in there, that we must be so quiet? 
 Look about you : there is no baby to be 
 seen; but little trays, something like 
 sieves, are everywhere; and Pen-se is 
 going from one to another, and supply- 
 ing each with her fresh mulberry -leaves ; 
 and presently all around us rises a curi- 
 ous little sound of thousands of little 
 mouths at work munching and munch-
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN, 93 
 
 ing. Peep into this nearest tray, and 
 look at the hungry silk-worms having 
 their breakfast. Were there ever busier 
 or screedier eaters ? But when one has 
 a great deal of work to do, one must eat 
 to get strength for doing it ; and these 
 little worms have each three hundred 
 yards of silk to spin before the month is 
 out. So they eat and grow, and grow 
 and eat, as busily as possible ; and when 
 they get too big for their skins, they 
 just take them off, and a new, soft, elas- 
 tic one comes in place of the old, and 
 gives them a fine chance of growing and 
 growing more and more. 
 
 I am sure you have all seen the pret- 
 ty chrysalides that caterpillars make in 
 the autumn. My children know them 
 well enough; for we had a whole box 
 full last year, and they peopled a but- 
 terfly-house in the spring. Sometimes 
 the chrysalides are dry and liorny, but 
 once in a while you see a silky one ; that 
 is the kind this worm will make, a silky
 
 94 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 chrysalis of a pale gold color ; and then 
 Pen-se will help to gather them up, and 
 her mother will wind off the silk in 
 beautiful, soft, flossy skeins, and take it 
 to market to sell. 
 
 Pen-se likes this work even better 
 than rowing the tanka-boat on the river. 
 She grows fond of the little worms. She 
 is careful to clean out their trays neatly 
 every morning, and give them the best 
 and freshest leaves ; and she longs to be 
 old enough to wind off the silk herself 
 She is tempted to try it ; but her mother 
 says, " No, not yet." And I am glad to 
 say that in China little girls do not 
 tease or fret. So Pen-se waits ; and in 
 a few days a delightful opportunity 
 comes to her. It is this : Out in the 
 woods, half a mile from the house, she 
 finds some wild silkworms spinning their 
 webs on a mulberry-tree ; and she marks 
 the place, and promises herself that in a 
 few days, when the chrysalides are ready, 
 she will come back and take them. So
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 95 
 
 Dne day, a week later, she runs to her 
 mother with her little bamboo basket 
 full of wild cocoons, and tells her story 
 of finding them in the woods, and timid- 
 ly asks, since they are her own, whether 
 she may try to wdnd them. Her mother 
 is wilhng ; and oh, what a proud, happy 
 little girl she is when she has a skein of 
 silk of her own winding ! not so fine and 
 even as her mother's, to be sure, — but 
 wild silk is never the best, — and yet it 
 is strong and useful for some coarser 
 weaving; and, when she has a pound, 
 she may carry it to market and sell it. 
 
 Do you wish you lived in a country 
 where you could find wild silk in the 
 woods ? 
 
 Pen-se is only a little girl, but she has 
 a great deal of hard work to do, espe- 
 cially now that her father cannot have 
 much help from her brother Lin ; for 
 Lin is going to scho'.>l. Can't Pen-se go 
 to school too? No, I am sorry to say 
 that in her country nobody thinkfl it
 
 96 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 best for little girls to learn even reading 
 and writing ; and, when you think of it, 
 don't you remember that neither Agoo- 
 nack, Manenko, nor Gemila ever went 
 to school ? But Lin is a boy ; and boys 
 must all learn at least reading and writ- 
 ing, if nothing more. 
 
 Do you remember the first day you 
 ever went to school? If you do, you 
 will like to hear about Lin's first school- 
 day. 
 
 His father looked in the almanac to 
 see what would be a lucky day for a lit- 
 tle boy to begin going to school; and 
 when he found in the long list of lucky 
 days, " June 8 is a good day for begin- 
 ning school," he decided upon that ; and 
 early in the morning he provided the 
 child with all that he will need for 
 school. 
 
 Do you think he will have a slate and 
 pencil, and a book ? 
 
 Oh, no! He carries two little can- 
 dles, some perfumed sticks, and some
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 97 
 
 little papers of make-believe money: 
 that is all ; and walking beside his father, 
 he goes up to the village where the 
 schooliiouse is, and, finding the teacher 
 at the door, Kang-hy makes a low bow, 
 and presents his son. He does not tell 
 the teacher Lin's name ; for to-day the 
 boy will have a new name given him, 
 which will be called his book-name ; and 
 we shall have to leave off calling him 
 Lin, and begin to call him Li-hoo in- 
 stead. Isn't that funny? 
 
 Now, what will he do with the things 
 he has brought? Do you think they 
 are a present for the teacher ? No ; for 
 the teacher leads the little boy to a 
 table, where he places the candles and 
 lights them, and then shows the child 
 how to burn his perfumed sticks and his 
 mock money; and all that is done in 
 honor of a great and wise teacher who 
 taught in that country thousands of years 
 ago. As the little boy is to study from 
 tlie books of that teacher, it m thought
 
 98 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 right to perform this service of respect 
 to his memory. And if to you and me 
 it seems like nonsense, we will not laugh 
 at it, but only say, " If he thinks it will 
 please the wise and good teacher, let 
 him do it." 
 
 And now the real studying is to be- 
 gin. Do you know how many letters 
 there are in the alphabet ? 
 
 " There are twenty-six," says little 
 Georgie. 
 
 And do you want to know how many 
 letters there are for this little Chinese 
 boy to learn in his alphabet ? Poor 
 child ! I pity him, for there are thirty 
 thousand. But, long before he has 
 learned them all, he will be able to read 
 common words and stories ; for most of 
 the letters are really whole words, not 
 spelled out as ours are, but a sort of pic- 
 ture-writing. And soon he learns that 
 this letter (o) means the sun ; and that 
 if it is made just above a straight line, 
 so (q), it means the early morning, for
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 99 
 
 the sun is just above the horizon. This 
 (/tt\) is a mountain. And some of the 
 others are just as simple and easy to 
 learn ; but there are many almost too 
 difficult to think of trying. 
 
 After his reading and writing are fin- 
 ished for the day, he learns to repeat 
 this sentence from the book of the wise 
 teacher who lived so long ago : — 
 
 " The portrait of a father is a book 
 which teaches a son his duties." 
 
 I think I understand that ; for I know 
 some little children who love to play in 
 the room where the portrait of their 
 grandfather hangs, and his pleasant face 
 smiles down upon them, helping them to 
 be good and patient in their little trials, 
 and helpful to each other. Perhaps that 
 is what Li-hoo feels when he has learned 
 his sentence, and stands back to the 
 schoolmaster (for that position is consid- 
 ered only proper and polite), and repeats 
 it slowly and carefully, word for word. 
 
 Now school is over tor the day, and
 
 100 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 Li-hoo turns into Lin again, and runs 
 home to tell his wondering little sistei 
 what new things he has learned. 
 
 I cannot say whether Pen-se wishes 
 that she, too, could go to school. If she 
 does, she never says any thing about it ; 
 for she has never heard of such a thing 
 as girls going to school, and doesn't sup- 
 pose it possible. But you and I would 
 welcome her to our school, if she came 
 here, wouldn't we ? 
 
 One day, at the end of the summer, 
 her brother comes home very happy : 
 he has, for the first time, read a story 
 for himself, and at night he repeats it 
 to Pen-se ; and I will repeat it for you, 
 that you may see what kind of stories 
 the Chinese children read. 
 
 Here it is : — 
 
 " There was a boy whose father was 
 so poor that he could not afford to send 
 him to school, but was obliged to make 
 him work all day in the fields to help 
 maintain the family. The lad was so
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 101 
 
 anxious to learn, that he wished to give 
 up a part of the night to study ; but his 
 mother had not the means of supplying 
 him with a lamp for that purpose : so he 
 brought home every evening a glow- 
 worm, which, being wrapped in a thin 
 piece of gauze, and applied to the lines 
 of a book, gave sufficient light to enable 
 him to read ; and thus he acquired so 
 much knowledge, that, in course of time, 
 he became a minister of state, and sup- 
 ported his parents with ease and com- 
 fort in their old age." Lin is so fond of 
 going to school, that he almost believes 
 he shall be like the boy in this story ; 
 and he hopes, at any rate, to take good 
 care of his father and mother in their 
 old age. That is what every child in 
 China means to do, and I hope every 
 child in our own country too. 
 
 But we will leave Lin hard at work 
 on his studies, and see what the rest of 
 the family are doing. 
 
 Do you know about the wax-makers '^
 
 102 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 I think I can hear Edith answer, '• Oh, 
 yes, the bees ! " But I must say, Oh, 
 no : I mean the tiny brown wax-insects 
 that cover themselves, and the tree on 
 which they feed, with fine white wax. 
 
 While the women and children have 
 been busy with silk-worms, Kang-hy has 
 gone every day to help another man 
 collect the wax from the wax-trees ; and 
 now the time has come for the little 
 wax-insects to lay their very tiny eggs ; 
 and these are carefully gathered and 
 packed in leaves, and must be carried to 
 the hatching-trees, which are miles and 
 miles away in quite another part of the 
 country; for, for some curious reason, 
 these little creatures thrive best durins; 
 their babyhood in one country, and 
 when their wax - working days begin, 
 they want to be carried to another. So 
 the men, having collected a great many 
 packages of eggs, start on a two-weeks' 
 journey to the hatching-trees. If they 
 should travel in the day-time, the heat
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 103 
 
 of the sun would hatch the eggs before 
 their time ; and, on that account, the 
 men have chosen to make the journey 
 at a time when the moon is large, and 
 they can see to travel in the night ; and 
 for a whole fortnight they sleep by day, 
 and walk by night. And pleasant walks 
 they are, too, through the beautiful 
 green woods, where the wild azaleas and 
 camellias lift their fliir wdiite faces in the 
 moonlight, and the great lantern-flies 
 flash among the dark foliage. 
 
 Kang-hy is a very industrious man ; 
 and just now he is earning all the 
 money he possibly can for two reasons ; 
 very important reasons, both of them, 
 as you will see. 
 
 The first is, that a little new baby-boy 
 has been born ; and the fatlier wlio has 
 four children must work harder and earn 
 more than the father who has only three. 
 
 Now I must tell you al)out this little 
 l):il)y, and how he was welcomed, — wel- 
 comed with the greatest rejoicings, be-
 
 104 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 cause he was a boy ; and in China they 
 are more glad to have boys than girls. 
 
 When he is a few days old, the father 
 invites all his friends to a feast, and, tak- 
 ing the baby in his arms, holds him up 
 before them all, and gives him a name. 
 At first he thought of calling this child 
 Number Four, for a number is considered 
 as good as a name ; but finally he de- 
 cides upon Chang-fou; and this becomes 
 the baby's pet name, or baby -name, 
 which will last him until he has his 
 school-name, just as Lin had his a few 
 months ago. Then the mother ties his 
 wrists together with a little red string : 
 that is thought to be the way to make 
 him good and obedient ; and when he 
 grows big enough to understand, if ever 
 he is naughty, somebody will say to him, 
 " Why, why ! did your mother forget to 
 bind your wrists ? " Isn't that a funny 
 thing to do ? 
 
 And now you can imagine how our 
 little Pen-se will spend all her spare
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 105 
 
 minutes in playing with the baby, and 
 carrying him out to see the beautiful 
 gold and silver pheasants, and the gay 
 rice-birds, and the half-dozen pretty lit- 
 tle puppies that she feeds every day 
 with rice, and watches and tends so 
 carefully. 
 
 Do you know what she will do with 
 the puppies when they are very plump 
 and fat? Don't you remember that 
 there were fat puppies for sale in the 
 market of the great city by the river 
 where Pen-se used to live ? She is really 
 fattening them to sell ; for she too, little 
 as she is, must earn money, and help her 
 father. 
 
 Now I must tell you the second reason 
 why Kang-hy wants to earn all he can. 
 He has heard of a wonderful country far 
 away over the sea, — a country where 
 the hills and the rivers are full of gold, 
 and where white men Jind women, such 
 as he sees in the American ships at Can- 
 ton, have their liomes. I am afraid that
 
 106 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 some of the things he has heard are not 
 wholly true ; but at least it is quite cer- 
 tain that a man or a boy can earn ten 
 times as much money in that distant 
 California, as he can in the rice-fields or 
 the silk-farms of China. 
 
 Of course Kang-hy cannot go himself 
 and leave his family behind ; but Lin is 
 now almost fourteen years old, and he 
 might be sent, if only enough money 
 could be earned to pay his passage across 
 the wide ocean. It is for that that his 
 father works, and Pen-se saves her silk- 
 money and her puppy-money, and the 
 mother makes little wax candles colored 
 red with vermilion, and carries them to 
 market to sell. 
 
 At last they have all together accu- 
 mulated about ten dollars ; and with this 
 they go to the mandarin of the village, 
 and ask him to make arrangements for 
 sending Lin to America. And the man- 
 darin goes to the captain of the Ameri- 
 can ship, and shows him the money and
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIX. 107 
 
 the boy, and says, " Can do ? No can 
 do ? " And the captam answers, " No 
 can do ; " and poor Lin turns away dis- 
 appointed. But he is to go, after all; 
 for there is in the city a company of 
 merchants that has engaged a ship to 
 take seven hundred men and boys who 
 want to go to this new country, and 
 they promise to give Lin a place if he 
 will pay the ten dollars now, and thirty 
 dollars more after he has earned it ; and 
 it seems very easy to earn thirty doHars 
 in a country where he will be paid half 
 a dollar a day. At home he only re- 
 ceived a few cents. 
 
 But there is one thing more to be 
 attended to; his flxther must write a 
 promise, that, if the boy does not suc- 
 ceed in paying the thirty dollars, he will 
 do it himself. That is a hard ])romise 
 for Kang-hy to give. It has been so 
 difficult to earn ten dollars, how can he 
 ever earn thirty? Jiut nevertheless he 
 makes the promise, and says, "' 1 will
 
 108 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 rather sell my other children to pay it, 
 than not keep my promise, now that it 
 is made." 
 
 And so little Lin will leave his father, 
 mother, and sisters and baby-brother, 
 and go alone to a strange country, 
 where the people speak a different lan- 
 guage, do not eat with chop-sticks, nor 
 wear braided tails of hair, where the 
 school-children do not recite with their 
 backs to the teacher, and, more surjoris- 
 ing than all, where little girls, as well as 
 boys, learn to read and write, and a 
 great deal more besides. 
 
 I have said, " where the people speak 
 a different language ; " but already Lin 
 has learned a little of that strange lan- 
 guage in the odd talk called f)igeon- 
 English, which he hears the American 
 sailors talking to the Chinamen of Can- 
 ton. They seem to think that to put ey 
 on the end of a word, will make it more 
 easily understood ;" and when they speak 
 to a Chinaman, they say findey instead
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 109 
 
 0? find, and piecey instead of ^iece, and 
 catchey instead of catch; and they have 
 other fimny words, to which they give 
 meanings of their own ; and since they 
 succeed in understanding each other, per- 
 haps it is very well. But what should 
 you think to hear your papa say, 
 " Catchey some chow-chow, chop-chop," 
 when he only meant to ask Bridget to 
 bring him some breakfast quickly ? 
 
 This kind of talk may do in Canton, 
 but I don't believe Lin will find it very 
 useful in San Francisco, where he will 
 land in a few weeks. 
 
 I can't tell you about the voyage to 
 San Francisco : I am afraid it was very 
 uncomfortable. The boys were crowded 
 together, and they felt homesick and 
 seasick. But such troubles end at last ; 
 and so, in time, comes the sunny morn- 
 ing when they sail into the beautiful 
 harbor called the Golden Gate ; and the 
 little boy looks out at the long, low hills, 
 with their light-houses, and the beautiful
 
 110 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 city lying before him in the sunlight; 
 and he wonders at seeing no tanka-boats, 
 and no people living in duck-boats, as 
 there are in his own country ; and then 
 he has no time to wonder any more, for 
 he finds himself on land," and is hurried 
 along with the crowd to the companies' 
 houses, where he will stay until work is 
 found for him, 
 
 " What kind of work ? " do you ask ? 
 There are many kinds of work from 
 which to choose : there is digging at the 
 gold-mines, but that is too hard for a 
 boy so young ; and the work on the new 
 railroad is also too heavy for him. He 
 can go to the great laundry to do wash- 
 ing ; or, if he prefers, he can go out to 
 service with some family. Poor boy! 
 he is so homesick, that the thought of 
 a family seems almost like a home, and 
 he timidly suggests that he should like 
 that best ; so he is sent to the house of 
 Mr. Leighton, who came yesterday to 
 the laundry to look for a boy. When
 
 

 
 NEW WORK FOR PEX-SE AND LIN. Ill 
 
 Mrs. Leighton looks at him, she says, 
 " Oh, you are too little ! you are not 
 strono; enouQ-h to do the work." To 
 which poor Lin, only half understanding 
 her, answers, " Me muchey workey, me 
 wash dish ; " and then catching sight of 
 the baby, who lay crowing and kicking 
 on the floor, he added, thinking of his 
 own little baby-brother at home, " Me 
 playey baby, me jumpey he." 
 
 So the mother's heart softens towards 
 him, and she says that he may come 
 and try. And pretty soon it happens 
 that little baby Margie begins to delight 
 in Lin more than in any other member 
 of the liOLisehold. He lets her play 
 with his pig-tail, and sings her little 
 Chinese songs, and talks to her in the 
 funny language which she thinks a per- 
 petual joke. And at last, one day, when 
 her mamma is trying to liave her photo- 
 graph taken to send to her far-away 
 aunties, nobody can keep her still, until 
 Lin, all dressed in his best suit, stands
 
 112 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 up and holds her in his arms ; and it is 
 their picture which you see at the be- 
 ginning of this story. 
 
 Lin was delighted when he saw his 
 owai picture with the " MeUcan baby ; " 
 and Mr. Leighton gave him one of them 
 to send home to his father and mother. 
 So he sat down that evening after his 
 work was done, and wrote the following 
 letter to send to China by the very 
 next mail. I will turn it into our 
 own language for you, as the inter- 
 preter did for the white man in Man- 
 enko's land. 
 
 But first you wull be interested to see 
 hew Lin is writing his letter. When 
 you write a letter, you begin at the left 
 side of your paper ; but he begins at 
 the right, and writes in columns, as you 
 do sometimes in your writing-books. It 
 w^ould puzzle you and me ; but his father 
 will know how to read it, and that is the 
 most important thing, isn't it ?
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 113 
 
 My dear and honored Father and Mother, 
 — May the light shine upon you. 
 
 You will see a picture of your son Lin, hold- 
 ing in his arms a Melican baby. She is a prett}' 
 baby, like httle Chang-fou ; but in the Melican 
 country they do not bind the babies' wrists, so 
 she is sometimes disobedient. 
 
 I work every day, wash the dishes, sweep, 
 take care of the bab}-, and I earn much mone}'. 
 Already I pay ten dollars to the company-man. 
 I will be very industrious. You shall not have 
 to pay. 
 
 Last month we celebrated the New Year. 
 Three thousand Chinamen walked in a procession 
 to the Joss-house ; and we had feasts, and fire- 
 works, and New- Year's cards. I send m3' cards 
 to you. (Here were enclosed two slips of red 
 paper printed with strange black Chinese letters, 
 which neither you nor I can read.) 
 
 We had a New- Year's week, not a month as 
 at home. And I went for two da3s, but no 
 more ; for I must do m}' work. 
 
 We did not have the new almanacs, as we do 
 at home ; but I thought about it, and wondered 
 if the Great Emperor had received his, with its 
 covers of yellow satin in its l)oautiful golden 
 case, and wlietlicr you had bought yours, and 
 were looking into it to see what would be the 
 lucky day for writing me a letter.
 
 114 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 My master he asked me one day if I would 
 have my hair cut ; but I told him no, not for 
 twenty dollars. Yet I should very much like the 
 twenty dollars. 
 
 When I have paid the company', I shall have 
 money to send to you. 
 
 When this letter reaches 3'ou, I think it must 
 be very near little Chang-fou's birthday. 
 
 I wish I could see j'ou all. When I have 
 earned plenty of MeUcan money, I shall come 
 home to you again, and I will always be your 
 dutiful and obedient son, Lin. 
 
 This was Lin's letter ; and now we 
 will see how it was received in his 
 home. 
 
 It was a pleasant spring day in the 
 Hoo-chow country, and the first mul- 
 berry-leaves were coming out. Pen-se 
 and her mother were at work, as we 
 have seen them before; but the little 
 girl was complaining because her winter 
 dress made her so warm. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " said her mother, " don't 
 complain : you can't change it, you 
 know, until the emperor's decree comes 
 for putting on spring clothes."
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 115 
 
 And the little girl, knowing that to 
 be true, tries to think of something else^ 
 and forget her discomfort. And there is 
 a pleasant subject to tliink about ; for 
 to-morrow will be little Chang - fou's 
 birthday, and he will be one year old. 
 Already his new cap and first shoes 
 have come as a present from his grand- 
 mother, and preparations are making for 
 a simple feast among the friends of the 
 family. 
 
 It was very kind for the grandmother 
 to send the cap and shoes, wasn't it ? 
 But I must tell you something quite 
 curious about this present. It wasn't 
 only because she wanted to, that she 
 sent the cap and shoes, but because in 
 China it is thought quite necessary that 
 a grandmother should always give just 
 this present, and no other, on the little 
 grandson's first birthday. Now, if she 
 had wanted to brini»: him a rattle and a 
 jumping-jack, instead of cap and shoes, 
 she couldn't have done it: ev^rybodj'
 
 116 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 would have cried out that it wasn't the 
 proper thing ; and if she ventured to 
 ask, "Why?" they would all say, "It 
 must be so, because it always has been 
 so." You and I don't think that is a 
 very good reason, do we ? But it is the 
 only answer we shall get in China to 
 many and many of our questions. If 
 you ask, " Why does the great general 
 wear an embroidered tiger oh his beau- 
 tiful silk dress ? why does the writer of 
 books wear one of his finger-nails two 
 inches long? and why do the princes 
 have their almanacs covered with red 
 satin and silver, while the emperor's are 
 bound in yellow satin and gold?" to 
 each and every question the Chinese 
 will answer, "It always was so, and 
 therefore it will always be so." 
 
 But we must return to the silk-farm 
 and the baby's birthday. 
 
 All the friends have assembled, and 
 little Chang-fou is brought in dressed in 
 new clothes. His mother carries him,
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 117 
 
 and Pen-se walks behind carrying a 
 round sieve in which lie various thinss. 
 There are writing-materials, — the four 
 precious materials, Kang-hy calls them, 
 — there are little money-scales, books, 
 fruitSj pieces of gold and silver, a skein 
 of silk, and some little twigs from a tea- 
 plant. 
 
 Don't you wonder what is to be done 
 with them all ? See, the sieve is placed 
 on the table, and the laughing baby is 
 seated in it amono- aU the thino^s of 
 which I have just told you. Everybody 
 watches the little fellow to see what he 
 will do ; for thev think that what busi- 
 ness he is to engage in when he grows 
 up is to be decided now by whichever 
 of all these things he first grasps in his 
 little fat hand. 
 
 His father would best like to have 
 him a wise man and a writer ; but the 
 yellow gloss of the silk attracts him 
 first, and, stretching out his hands for 
 it, he lisps, in his own funny language,
 
 118 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 " Pretty, pretty ; " and everybody de- 
 clares that he will be a silk-grower, like 
 his uncle. 
 
 And now the bowls of rice are brought 
 in, and the guests sit around the table 
 with their chop-sticks, and sip their little 
 cups of perfumed rice-wine ; and in the 
 midst of all the festivity, the postman 
 enters with Lin's letter. 
 
 Kang-hy is a proud and happy man 
 when he reads it; and the picture of 
 Lin with the " Melican baby" in his arms 
 is passed from hand to hand, and admired 
 by every one ; and one neighbor says to 
 another, " It will be well that we send 
 our sons to this great and rich country 
 over the seas." 
 
 Then they all leave the table, and go 
 out with fire-crackers, to finish the en- 
 tertainment with such a display as we 
 only expect on Fourth of July. 
 
 Pen-se doesn't care much for the 
 fire-crackers: she has heard and seen 
 them almost every day since she was
 
 NEW WORK FOR PEN-SE AND LIN. 119 
 
 born; but she has stolen away into a 
 corner, and laid her cheek against the 
 pretty face of the " Melican baby." She 
 thinks she should love that little 
 stranger. Perhaps she is a little sister 
 too.
 
 CAN THE LITTLE BliOWN^ BABY 
 DO ANYTHING? 
 
 She is hardly more than a baby. Do 
 you remember her little swinging bed in 
 the tree, and her birds and flowers and 
 butterflies? 
 
 What can such a baby do? I am sure 
 she can't work. 
 
 Yes, she is a little creature ; but she 
 shall have a little chapter, too, of her 
 own. 
 
 Sometimes when we are doing our 
 little work quietly, and not supposing 
 that anybody but those who are nearest 
 us knows or cares or is helped by it, we 
 find that really we have been doing a 
 service for unknown friends far away 
 whom we have ne ver even seen ;* and 
 
 120
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN BABY. 121 
 
 this is wheat our bro\vn baby is going 
 to do. 
 
 She plays in the forest just as she 
 used to ; she gathers flowers, and chases 
 butterflies ; but one morning, after she 
 has been to the cow-tree witli her cocoa- 
 nut bowl to get some milk for breakflist, 
 and has had her bath in the stream, and 
 her roll on the grass, she sees her mother 
 walking slowly through the wood, look- 
 ing carefully on this side and on that, to 
 find the kina-trees, with their yellow 
 bark; and even this little girl, who is 
 now but five years old, shows us that 
 she can work as well as play, and beghis 
 to pull off the curled bark, and bring 
 the bits to her mother to see if they are 
 of the riglit kind. And at last, down in 
 the hot valley she finds a beautiful ever- 
 green-tree, with fragrant white blossoms 
 something like the white lilac ; and she 
 runs to call her mother to see the pretty 
 sight. But no sooner does the mother 
 look at the beautiful tree, than she hur-
 
 122 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 ries back to call the men, who come with 
 then' axes to cut it down ; for it is a true 
 kina-tree, and will yield many drums of 
 bark. 
 
 And while the men are carefully strip- 
 ping the great trunk and large boughs, 
 the little girl works busily at the slender 
 branches, and soon has her basket full of 
 curly strips ready for drying. 
 
 " But," you ask, " what is all this for, 
 and how is it to be a help to anybody ? " 
 
 Do you remember the time when Ma- 
 nenko had a fever, and the Bazunga 
 gave her a white powder? and when 
 Gemila, too, was ill, and the English lady 
 brought her also the same bitter pow- 
 der ? Where do you suppose they got 
 that medicine ? 
 
 Probably they bought it at a drug- 
 gist's in some city. 
 
 But where did the druggist get it ? 
 
 Ah, we never thought of that J 
 Where did he, indeed ? 
 
 Why, that bitter powder is made from
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN BABY. 123 
 
 this very bark that the brown baby is so 
 carefully pullmg from the boughs ; and 
 her country is the only country in the 
 world where it grows. Now, only think 
 what a kind service she has done for her 
 two sisters, Gemila and Manenko, whom 
 she has never seen nor heard of. 
 
 She doesn't travel, and take long 
 journeys, as some of the other children 
 do. She can only do her little work in 
 her own home, and then send it away in 
 ships far over the seas to distant coun- 
 tries ; but when her drum of kina-bark 
 is taken to Arica for shipment, there is 
 another great package of something 
 prettier than bark, that goes with it; 
 and you will see, by and by, to which of 
 the seven sisters this will come. 
 
 There is a pretty little squirrel-like 
 animal with the softest of gray fur If 
 the brown baby had any pets, or any 
 place in which to keep them, I am sure 
 she would want one of these little chin- 
 chillas ; but no doubt it is happier in ita
 
 124 EACH AND ALL, 
 
 free forest-home, than it would be in 
 any little house, however fine, with 
 which you or I could provide it ; and as 
 for the brown baby, who has no house 
 for herself, she, of course, has none for 
 any thing else. And yet the gentle 
 creature living in its burrow, and sit- 
 ting at its little doorway in the sun, is a 
 great pleasure and entertainment to the 
 child, whenever she climbs up the hill- 
 side far enough to come to chinchilla- 
 town ; for it is almost as much of a little 
 town as are the prairie-dog towns of 
 which you have sometimes heard ; and, 
 in fact, the prairie-dog is a cousin of this 
 same little gray chinchilla. 
 
 Our baby watches them with their 
 tails curled up over their backs like 
 squirrels', and sees them scamper into 
 their underground houses when she 
 comes too near ; and she is sorry, and so 
 am I, when her father catches as many 
 of them as he can, that he may pack 
 their pretty skins in great bundles, and
 
 THE LITTLE BEOTTN BABY. 125 
 
 send them away with the drums of bark 
 to be sold. 
 
 Perhaps some of you will have chin- 
 chilla muffs and caps made from these 
 same little skins : so they will be a pres- 
 ent from brown-baby land. 
 
 Do you Avant to know how all these 
 packages of bark and fur are carried 
 down to the ships at the seashore ? 
 
 They have neither horses nor carts, as 
 in our country, for the mountain-roads 
 are too steep for such travel; but the 
 packages are loaded on the backs of the 
 gentle llamas, who can step lightly and 
 safely down the steepest paths ; and just 
 as our men are ready to start with their 
 loaded animals, the mountain-train from 
 the silver-mines comes into sight, wind- 
 ing slowly down the narrow path along 
 the hillside. 
 
 Did you think I meant a train of cars? 
 Oh, no ! it was a train of llamas, with 
 their small, graceful, erect heads, and 
 their slender legs. How gallantly then*
 
 126 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 leader moves in front, with his gayly- 
 embroidered halter, and pretty little 
 streamer floating from his head ! And 
 the others all follow in single file down 
 the slope, carrying their burdens so care- 
 fully that they scarcely seem to need the 
 care of the drivers, who clamber along 
 behind them. But, when one poor tired 
 little animal suddenly lies down by the 
 roadside, see how quickly his Indian 
 master shows both love and care for 
 him! He kneels beside him, pets and 
 caresses him, and comforts him with ten- 
 der words, just as Gemila and Alee pet 
 their father's black horse ; and at last 
 the llama struggles again to his feet, and 
 follows his companions, who are almost 
 out of sight. They are all loaded with 
 silver from the mountain mines; and 
 when they have left it at the seaport, 
 they will carry back salt for the moun- 
 tain people. 
 
 The little fur and bark train joins the 
 silver train, and all go together down to
 
 THE LITTLE BROWN BABY. 127 
 
 the ships that are waiting for their loads. 
 And the little bro^vn baby w^atches them 
 out of sight, and then goes back to her 
 play and her work, and does not dream 
 that she has sent any thing to Manenko 
 or to Gemila, or to any other of those 
 far-awa3^, unknown sisters.
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME AGAIN FOR 
 LOUISE. 
 
 You all remember the beautiful Christ 
 mas-time in the happy home by the river 
 Rhine, and the long, hard journey after- 
 wards to the new home in the Western 
 forest. 
 
 Do you want to go with me now, and 
 take a peep at Louise and Fritz, and 
 Gretchen and little Hans ? 
 
 We left them in a log house, didn't 
 we ? But see : they have now built a 
 larger and more comfortable one ; not 
 like the beautiful old home by the Rhine, 
 but simple almost as the log one, only it 
 has more rooms, better fireplaces, and 
 more convenient furniture, 
 
 Louise and Gretchen have a little room 
 to themselves ; and last summer a morn- 
 ing-glory vine climbed all about their
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 129 
 
 window, and opened its lovely blossoms 
 to the morning sun. Up in that room 
 to-day Louise sits down by the sunny 
 window to think for a minute. She has 
 just made her bed, and put her room in 
 order, and in five minutes more she 
 ought to be down stairs sweeping the 
 little sitting-room: besides, there is an- 
 other reason for not stopping long ; for 
 this November day, even if the sun does 
 shine, it is not warm enough in that fire- 
 less room for any one to sit still long. 
 
 What do you suppose she is thinking 
 about? What do you begin to think 
 about when November is almost gone, 
 and December is coming ? '' Christmas, 
 Christmas ! " I hear all the little voices 
 answering. Yes, that is what Louise is 
 thinking about. She is not wondering 
 what she will have in her stocking, nor 
 what she shall buy for papa and mamma, 
 or all the brothers and sisters ; but the 
 question has popped itself into her head : 
 " Could I, could I, make a little Christ-
 
 130 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 mas-tree, such as we used to have at 
 home by the beautiful river Rhine, — 
 a Christmas-tree to surprise them all ? " 
 And she is sitting down for just a minute 
 to think how it would be possible to do 
 this without telling any one of the fam- 
 
 ily. 
 
 But to this difficult question no an- 
 swer presents itself, and she mustn't 
 linger when there is so much work to 
 be done. So with the sense of a de- 
 lightful secret in her mind, she runs 
 down to sweep the sitting-room, while 
 Gretchen amuses little Hans in one cor- 
 ner of the kitchen, and her good mother 
 puts the bread into the pans, and sees 
 that the oven is ready for baking. 
 
 Sometimes I believe our best thoughts 
 come when we are busiest ; and I don't 
 wonder that Louise gave a little jump 
 for joy in the midst of her work, when 
 it suddenly occurred to her that Jean- 
 nette, the little neighbor who had come 
 last year to live at the nearest farm,
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 131 
 
 would help her, and that Jeannette's tall 
 brother Joseph would certamly bring 
 them a tree from the woods. 
 
 Now, I know that she wants to put on 
 her hat, and run over to Jeannette's 
 house to ask her about it at once ; but 
 she can't do that, or who will mend the 
 stockings, and set the dinner-table, and 
 wash the dishes, and sweep the kitchen 
 floor when all is done ? So she works 
 on, singing softly to herself, although 
 she hardly knows what she is singing 
 until her mother says, " What makes 
 you so happy, dear ? and why do you 
 sing the Christmas hymn ? " 
 
 Louise laughs, and answers, " Why, 
 was I singing the Christmas hymn ? I 
 didn't know it." 
 
 It is three o'clock, and at last the 
 day's work is finished ; and, " Mother, 
 may I take my sewing, and go to Jean- 
 nette's ? " asks Louise. And there is 
 such a tone of satisfaction in the child's 
 words, that her mother looks up at her?
 
 132 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 glad to see her so happy, and says, 
 " Certainly." 
 
 Jeanne tte lives in a log house hardly 
 better than the one in which Ave left 
 Louise when you knew her long ago. 
 But Joseph has made some comfortable 
 benches, and one with a very high back 
 that stands always beside the fireplace, 
 and is called the settle. Into the corner 
 of this settle cuddle the two little girls ; 
 and it isn't many minutes before Jean- 
 ette is as happy as Louise over the 
 delightful secret. 
 
 Jeannette has no little brothers and 
 sisters to surprise on Christmas ; but she 
 already loves Gretchen and Fritz and 
 Hans, and she enters into the plan most 
 heartily. Of course Joseph will get the 
 tree : Joseph will do any thing for his 
 little sister ; and, if there is time, he will 
 also make some little toys of wood to 
 put upon it. And Jeannette herself can 
 help in a delightful way, for she can do 
 something that few little girls of my
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 133 
 
 acquaintance knew how to. Shall I tell 
 you what it is ? 
 
 Her father and brothers began two 
 months ago, after their grain was har- 
 vested, to dig a cellar for the new house 
 that they mean to build in the spring. 
 In digging out the earth, they came to a 
 bed of red and brown clay, not very 
 hard, and just sticky enough for mould- 
 ing into shape. At first the children 
 played with it in a rough way, making 
 balls, and sometimes dishes or pans ; but 
 one day Jeannette patted into shape a 
 little cat that looked so much like her 
 own cat Sandwich, that all the children 
 exclaimed at it with delight ; and, lest it 
 should crumble to pieces, she set it in a 
 warm place in the chimney-corner, and 
 baked it until it was hard. From that 
 day Jeannette spent all her play-time in 
 the clay-bed ; and sometimes it was the 
 old sbepherd dog who sat for his picture 
 with a grave face, and a tail that wnnted 
 to wag, but woulthi't, as if he knew
 
 134 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 what it was all about, and was keep- 
 ing still on purpose. Sometimes it was 
 Bossy, or Brinclle, or Cowslip, on their 
 way home from pasture ; and at last, 
 when her hands grew skilful with much 
 practice, she tried the shy antelopes that 
 would not stop half a minute to be 
 looked at. 
 
 And now Jeannette is planning just 
 what she will make for each one; and 
 Louise, who has not such skilful hands 
 but just as loving a heart, is trying to 
 think what there is that can be made 
 without costing any money at all. 
 
 There are different kinds of presents 
 in the world, you know. Some of them 
 have cost a great deal of money ; and 
 some have cost a great deal of love, and 
 thought, and work. This last is the 
 kind I like best myself, and this is the 
 kind that Louise must make. Every 
 dav while she is about her work, her 
 mind is actively thinking, thinking al- 
 ways ; and first one thing suggests itself, 
 and then another.
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 135 
 
 " If we had a feather - duster, how 
 convenient it would be to brush off the 
 ashes ! " said her mother one day, when a 
 fresh log of wood thrown on to the fire 
 set the ashes flying even up to the high 
 mantle-shelf; and the little girl could 
 hardly help exclaiming, ".0 mother ! I 
 will make you one for Christmas ; " for 
 it quickly flashed into her head, that the 
 yard was strewn with turkey-feathers, 
 and why wouldn't they make a good 
 duster? 
 
 It is easier to plan than to execute. 
 But that same afternoon she picked up 
 all the longest and best of the feathers, 
 — the stouter, stiffer ones for the middle 
 part of the brush, and plenty of soft, 
 downy, flufT)' ones for the outside. Jean- 
 nette's brother Joseph whittled out a 
 smooth, pretty handle for her, with a 
 notch near the end, so that she could tie 
 her feathers firmly on ; and she worked 
 all her spare time for two days before 
 they were tied on evenly and well; and
 
 136 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 even then the ends stuck up clunisily 
 around the handle, and she couldn't think 
 what would make it look any better. 
 
 Now somebody is going to help her. 
 Who can it be ? A little far-away sister 
 whom she has never seen. 
 
 Do you remember how carefully Pen- 
 se tended the silk-worms, and gathered 
 up the cocoons, and learned to wind off 
 the silk? Some of that very silk has 
 been woven into a pretty blue ribbon, — 
 a ribbon that the kind cousin Mr. Mey- 
 er bought in New York, and sent in a 
 letter, that Louise might have, as he 
 said, — 
 
 " A bunch of blue ribbons, 
 To tie up her bonnie brown hair." 
 
 That night, after Louise is in bed 
 and almost asleep, she suddenly thinks, 
 "Wh}^, I will tie a piece of my blue 
 ribbon round the ends of the feathers, 
 and that will finish it off beautifully ! " 
 So, the next day, the feather-duster was
 
 . CHRISTMAS-TBIE FOR LOUISE. 137 
 
 finished, — the first present of all ; and 
 it was marked, '■' Liehe Mutter " (" Dear 
 mother"), and was hidden away in a lit- 
 tle chest down at Jeannette's house ; for 
 it would spoil every thing to have it 
 seen before the time. 
 
 But do you think that Louise is the 
 only one who has remembered that 
 Christmas is comins; ? 
 
 If the little girl had not been so busy 
 herself, and so anxious to get away into 
 some obscure corner to do her work 
 unobserved, she would certainly have 
 noticed that her mother had a curious 
 way of slipping something into a drawer 
 which she shut quickly when any of the 
 children came in ; and she might also 
 have wondered what Christian was scrib- 
 bling at so busily at his corner of the 
 table in the evening ; but, when Christ- 
 mas-time is near, you should not ask too 
 many questions, and you should not be 
 surprised at very mysterious answers. 
 
 "Dear Christian," said Louise one
 
 138 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 day, when she saw her brother prepar- 
 ing to go to town with a load of wood, 
 •' if mother can spare me, may I go with 
 you ? " Louise had an idea in her head, 
 and she wanted very much to get, in 
 the town, some materials wherewith to 
 carry it out; and the chance to ride 
 there on the load of wood was delightful. 
 Her mother was willing and glad to have 
 her go, but hesitated a minute over the 
 old worn hat and shabby little sack ; 
 then suddenly she exclaimed, '" Why, 
 the dear child shall wear my eider-down 
 pelisse." 
 
 Who remembers the bag of eider- 
 down that Agoonack's mother brought 
 to the Kudlunahs in exchange for 
 needles and thread ? Didn't this warm 
 garment come from Agoonack's land, or 
 from some other land very much like it ? 
 
 It was a curious old garment, this 
 pelisse. Perhaps you never heard of a 
 pelisse ; but 1 can remember, when I was 
 a child, an old lady who had just such
 
 CHRISTJIAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 139 
 
 a pelisse as this. It was made of silk, 
 and wadded with eider-down ; and it was 
 as soft and warm and Hght as a bird's 
 coat of feathers. It was a garment 
 like this that Louise's mother now took 
 out from one of those great linen-chests 
 that you remember, and she wrapped it 
 carefully about her little daughter. It 
 reached almost to her feet, and the 
 sleeves covered her hands. " But you 
 will be all the warmer for that," said the 
 I'lebe Mutter. 
 
 Christian has prepared for her a cosey 
 seat among the logs, and away they go. 
 It is rather a hard and uneven road ; but 
 the snow has improved it, and the heavy 
 runners of the wood-sled make smooth, 
 broad tracks over the as yet imbroken 
 way. 
 
 It is a great pleasure to Louise to go 
 to the town. Wlien one stays at home 
 day after day, and week after week, the 
 change of seeing a new place is very 
 delightlul • sxnd Louise has rarely been
 
 140 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 even to the town, and only once has she 
 taken a journey since she first came to 
 America : that was the journey to New 
 York with her father, when he went on 
 business, and happened to be just in 
 time to welcome the cousin home from 
 his long, strange voyage on the ice- 
 island. 
 
 But what can Louise get to-day in 
 the town without money ? 
 
 Perhaps you thought she was going 
 to buy a little steam-engine for Fritz, 
 and a wax doll for Gretchen. Not at 
 all. You will hardly imagine what she 
 can do with the little scraps of black 
 kid and white that she has timidly 
 begged of the old shoemaker, who was 
 about to throw them away. 
 
 This old shoemaker, with his spectacles 
 pushed up on his forehead, and his 
 leather apron tied round his waist, had 
 always been kind to Louise ever since 
 her father took her to his shop last sum- 
 mer to be measured for a pair of shoes.
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 141 
 
 He had looked at the little worn shoe 
 that she took off, and had said inquir- 
 ingly, " That shoe is not made in this 
 country ? " — " No," answered the father, 
 " that shoe came from Germany ; " and 
 the old man laid his rough hand caress- 
 ingly over the worn leather, and an- 
 swered, " I, too, came from the father- 
 land ; but it is now more than fifty years 
 since I saw the Rhine." 
 
 That made them friends at once ; and 
 when the little girl in her long pelisse 
 appeared to-day at his door, old Hans 
 Stoker pushed back his spectacles, and 
 smiled with pleasure. And in response 
 to her timid question about the scraps 
 of leather, he pulled forward an old box 
 full, and said heartily, " Help yourself, 
 my little lady, help yourself: they are 
 all at your service." 
 
 Louise chose long, narrow strips, foui 
 of them white, and four black ; but 
 while she was busy over the box, old 
 Hans had opened the drawer under his
 
 142 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 bench, and, after measuring and calcu- 
 lating a minute over a pretty piece of 
 red morocco, he cut off two or three 
 corners and bits of that, and, tossing 
 them into the box, said, "They would 
 go in to-morrow at any rate: so let 
 them go to-day instead, and take them 
 if you like, my dear." 
 
 Louise started with pleasure; and in 
 the joy of her heart she looked up in 
 the old wrinkled face, and decided to 
 tell him her Christmas secret. 
 
 "I am going to make a ball for my 
 baby brother. It is to be a Christmas 
 present, and I don't want any one to 
 know. It was going to be only black 
 and white, but the red stripes will make 
 it just lovely. I thank you so much for 
 them ! " 
 
 The kind old man was as pleased as a 
 child would be with the little plan ; and 
 he offered to cut the leather for her with 
 his knife, if she could tell him how she 
 wanted it done : so presently they to-
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 143 
 
 gether contrived a paper pattern of a 
 long piece tapering at both ends, like 
 the pieces we sometimes take off in 
 peeling an orange ; and the shoemaker 
 promised to cut them while Louise went 
 with Christian to buy yarn for her 
 mother. On their return, he came out 
 to the sled with a neat little package all 
 ready for her. 
 
 " What have you bought of the shoe- 
 maker ? " asked Christian as they drove 
 away, while Louise looked back to nod 
 and smile at the friendly old face in the 
 doorway of the little shop. 
 
 " I didn't buy any thing," she an- 
 swered, " but questions are not good at 
 Clii'istmas time ; " and she looked up 
 into his face, and laughed. 
 
 Christian laughed too ; and then they 
 both became so lost in Christmas 
 thoughts, that neither of them spoke 
 for a long time. Just before the lights 
 in their own windows came in sight, 
 Louise said, '• Don't tell anybody that I
 
 144 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 went to the shoemaker's." — " Trust me 
 for that," said Christian, stooping to kiss 
 her red Hps ; and in another minute they 
 were at the door. 
 
 Now, what do you suppose the liehe 
 Mutter had been doing ail day long? 
 There had been work enough, you may 
 be sure ; but little Gretchen was anxious 
 to fill her sister's place as well as she 
 could, and to save the dear mother as 
 much work as possible ; and Hans had a 
 pile of blocks on the kitchen floor, and 
 built houses and castles all the morning : 
 and so it was that the mother found ti-me 
 to take out of the great chest the pretty 
 chinchilla muff that she had brought 
 with her across the seas, because it had 
 been a Christmas present years ago from 
 her own dear mother. 
 
 But what is she going to do with the 
 muff? She, too, has a Christmas thought ; 
 and her skilful fingers will obey that 
 thought, and make out of the muff a 
 pretty chinchilla cap for Louise, — ^just
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 145 
 
 such a cap as I had when I was a little 
 o-irl. Before the children have come 
 home, it is finished, and safely hidden 
 away. So you see a good deal of Christ- 
 mas work was accomplished on that day. 
 
 Louise kept her package of kid in her 
 pocket. It was only when she went up 
 to bed, and found Gretchen fast asleep, 
 that she ventured to open it. There 
 were four beautiful pieces of red, and as 
 many of the black and the white. It 
 wasn't many days before the pretty ball 
 was finished, and stuffed with lamb's 
 wool. It was a beauty. Can't you 
 imagine how it looked, and how pleased 
 little Hans will be with it? 
 
 But if I tell you all beforehand, yoi) 
 won't enjoy the surprise of the tree half 
 so much. I must leave a great deal un- 
 told, and take a long leap over to th« 
 day before Christmas. 
 
 Just one thing I will let you have a 
 peeji at, — ji 1)0X whi(;h arrived ))y ex- 
 press at the town, ten miles away, and
 
 146 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 was brought over by Jeannette's brother 
 Joseph, who left it down at his house, 
 and came up and told Louise's father 
 privately, for he imagined it might have 
 something to do with Christmas. Don't 
 you remember the uncles that they left 
 in the old home by the Rhine, — the un- 
 cles who wanted Christian to stay with 
 them, when his father decided to go 
 away ? They are good, kind uncles, and 
 they remember Christmas time. Per- 
 haps you will hear more of that box 
 when the right time comes. 
 
 The day before Christmas, — what a 
 busy day that was ! 
 
 " May I have the sitting-room all to 
 myself, all day, dear mother?" asked 
 Louise, early in the morning. Her 
 mother looked surprised. She had 
 guessed that the child was making j) res- 
 ents of some kind, but the attempt to 
 have a tree had not entered into her 
 head. She wisely did not say a word 
 about it, although she now felt quite 
 sure of her little daughter's plan.
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 147 
 
 Jeannette came over ; there was a 
 mysterious consultation ; and finally a 
 strange and bulky Ijundle covered with 
 a bedquilt was hurried into the room, 
 and the door was quickly closed. Louise 
 came out for a small wash-tub ; Jean- 
 nette carried in a basket of bricks almost 
 too heavy for her to lift. If you had 
 listened outside the door, you would 
 have heard many " Oh's ! " and " Ah's ! " 
 but at last a little cry of delight, and, 
 " There ! it stands perfectly firm. Isn't 
 it a beauty ? " 
 
 You, dear children, know just as well 
 as I do, how many mysterious runnings 
 up and down stairs there were, and slip- 
 pings in and out of that door. But you 
 and 1 can't come in until the rest of the 
 company do. We can only look with 
 great curiosity at Louise, as she comes 
 out, al)out four o'clock, with flushed 
 cheeks and smiling eyes, locks the door, 
 and puts the key in her apron-pocket 
 witli an air that shows us that her work 
 is done, and well done loo.
 
 148 EACH AND ALL, 
 
 Coming ^ to her mother, who throws 
 her white apron over her work as soon 
 as the child approaches, she says, 
 ■" Mother dear, when we lived at home 
 by the Rhine, we always did something 
 at Christmas time to make people poorer 
 than ourselves happy. There is little 
 Maggie O'Connell down at the new 
 house in the clearing, and she has neither 
 brother nor sister to help her keep a 
 merry Christmas. May we ask her to 
 come and keep it with us this evening ? " 
 
 The mother smiled to see that it was 
 the same Christmas spirit, independent 
 of wealth or gifts, that shone in her little 
 daughter's face. A Christmas spirit can 
 come even without a Santa Claus. But 
 perhaps Santa Claus has been here too. 
 
 So Louise 2^hined her shawl over her 
 head, and ran down to the clearing for 
 Maggie. 
 
 In Maggie's house there were Christ- 
 mas candles, but no tree ; and no other 
 children than the lonely little Maggie,
 
 CHRISTMAS-TniE FOR LOUISE. 149 
 
 whose two little sisters had died of fever 
 a year* ago. And her mother blessed 
 Louise, who had come in a sister's place 
 to try to make Christmas merry for her 
 child. 
 
 It was almost dark when the two chil- 
 dren reached the house, and Maggie was 
 left in the kitchen with the little ones, 
 while Jeannette and Louise, with an air 
 of great importance, unlocked the sit- 
 ting-room door, and went in. It wasn't 
 more than two minutes before they threw 
 open the door, and called to the expect- 
 ant company that all was ready. 
 
 Don't laugh at the little tree standing 
 in a wasli-tub, and supported by bricks. 
 Don't laugh at the three lanterns, — 
 common stable lanterns, — that are hung 
 among its branches in an attempt to 
 illuminate it. Don't laugh at any thing, 
 but think only of all the love, and the 
 hard work, and the long planning, that 
 have gone into the ])repariition of this 
 Christmas-tree ; and then it will seem
 
 150 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 beautiful to you, as it does to me, and 
 did to all that happy little company 
 when they saw before them the Christ- 
 mas surprise on which those two little 
 girls had employed themselves for the 
 last month. 
 
 There were plenty of festoons of 
 popped corn, and there were little tufts 
 of white feathers, relieving here and 
 there the dark green of the foliage ; 
 but, strictly speaking, it wasn't very 
 briUiant; and, instead of revealing all 
 its beauties at once, it disclosed them 
 slowly, and, indeed, some of them could 
 only be found and carefully taken off by 
 the very same fingers that had carefully 
 tied them on. 
 
 You would have laughed with pleas- 
 ure to see all the pretty animals that 
 Jeannette had made ; for each member 
 of the family, his or her favorite ani- 
 mal. Here was old Major, the horse, 
 made in the character of a paper-weight ; 
 Gretchen's white kitty, and Fritz's dog -,
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 151 
 
 and, to the great surprise of Louise, a 
 little brown owl for her. 
 
 I haven't told j^ou how Louise had 
 made from pasteboard a pretty chintz- 
 covered armchair for her little sister's 
 doll, and knitted warm wristers for Fritz 
 and Christian. 
 
 Her father's present had been the 
 hardest to make, or rather to plan, until 
 one day her watchful ears caught the 
 words, " Tliere ought to be some safe 
 place beyond tlie reach of little Hans 
 for keeping the newspapers." You see 
 newspapers were rare and precious in 
 that Western home. 
 
 Now, if you look under that low bough 
 of the Christmas-tree, you will see the 
 pretty birch-bark newspaper-holder, with 
 a bit of the Pen-se ribbon tied in to ban"; 
 it by ; and I tliink you and I can imagine 
 how pleased her father is to see that his 
 little girl has taken such thoughtful no- 
 tice of his wishes. 
 
 But you know thci-e are oilier presents
 
 152 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 besides those that the children have 
 made. We have already heard of the 
 chinchilla cap ; and for each of the other 
 children the good mother has contrived 
 to produce some little treasure from her 
 old-time stores. A white apron with 
 pockets for Gretchen, — she had always 
 wanted pockets, — new red mittens for 
 Fritz, and a picture-book pasted on cloth 
 for iTans. His father had made a pretty 
 sled of chestnut wood for Fritz ; and he 
 had unpacked treasures for all from the 
 box that the uncles had sent from the 
 Rhineland. And suddenly the tree be- 
 gan to produce fruits that Louise and 
 Jeannette had not dreamed of; for both 
 father and mother had entered heartily 
 into the fun, and, hastily bringing out 
 treasures from their hiding-places, tied 
 them on to the tree, and as quickly took 
 them off to distribute among the happy 
 children. 
 
 There was a little writinQ;-desk for 
 Louise. Peep into it, and see its treas-
 
 CHKISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 153 
 
 ures, — the ivory-handled knife and pa- 
 per-cutter, the pens and the paper, — 
 every thing in order. I am sure you 
 remember where the ivory came from ; 
 but do you suppose that Louise knows 
 any thing about Manenko, from whose 
 land it came ? or did the little dark- 
 skinned Manenko dream that the ivory 
 tusks carried on her father's shoulders 
 were going to help make a Christmas 
 present for a fair-faced little sister thou- 
 sands of miles away ? 
 
 Then there were books, and pictures 
 too, just in the right time, for now they 
 have walls whereon to lumg them : the 
 log walls of last year hardly afforded a 
 place. 
 
 " It begins to seem like our old home," 
 said the mother, as she looked at the 
 beautiful old familiar picture from which 
 the Madonna and Child had smiled down 
 upon her when she was a little girl. It 
 had been hard to part with that when 
 they came away i'rom the Khineland ;
 
 154 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 and now it had been saved, and sent 
 back to her. 
 
 Presently Louise spied a little white 
 card fluttering at the end of a branch ; 
 and, puUing it down, she read from it 
 the verses that Christian had been writ- 
 ing on one of those busy evenings when 
 no one asked the other, " What are you 
 doing?" 
 
 He had ornamented a plain white card 
 with a border of delicate-colored lines ; 
 written on the back these loving words, 
 " For my dear brothers and sisters," and 
 on the other side the following little 
 verses : — 
 
 "We bear the Christmas message 
 Biought us so long ago. 
 Why haA'e the centuries kept it fresh? 
 Wh}' do we prize it so ? 
 
 Because it is rich with the gold of love 
 That with bright, exhaustless flow, 
 
 From unfailing source in the heart Divine*^ 
 Supplies our hearts below.
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 155 
 
 And it tells of a tender human bond, 
 
 Since ever the world began, 
 For it teaches the Fatherhood of God, 
 
 The brotherhood of man. 
 
 But how can we cany the tidings, 
 Make each word as living and true 
 
 To the poor, the oppressed, and the lonely, 
 As the}' are to me and to you ? 
 
 Let them shine in thought, in word, in deed. 
 As we work out the heavenly plan ; 
 
 And, blessed by the Fatherhood of God, 
 Prove the brotherhood of man." 
 
 This Fatlierhood could not leave them 
 wherever they might go ; and I am glad 
 that they felt their brotherhood and sis- 
 terhood, even so far away there in the 
 Western world. It was that that made 
 them so happy, I think. 
 
 Have you all the time forgotten little 
 Maggie, who had come as a guest to the 
 Christmas-tree ? 
 
 Weren't there any presents for her ? 
 Yes, indeed there were. Louise had 
 taken the last bit of her blue ribbon.
 
 156 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 folded it in a white paper, and written 
 upon it, "A merry Christmas for Mag- 
 gie." Jeannette had run home to look 
 over her box of clay figures, and had 
 chosen the prettiest little cow among 
 them to mark with Maggie's name. And 
 the thoughtful mother had taken the last 
 new apron she had finished for Louise, 
 and put it on the tree for the little 
 neighbor. 
 
 It was a merry Christmas all round, 
 wasn't it ? It ended with music from 
 Christian's violin, and then a hearty 
 voice outside the window sung a merry 
 mountain-song. That must have been 
 Joseph. 
 
 I wonder if they would have been any 
 happier if they had been dressed in silk 
 instead of calico, and had had a tree 
 loaded with the richest presents. 
 
 Do you see that the seven little sisters 
 are finding each other, sending each 
 other presents, sometimes even without
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 157 
 
 knowing it, and doing for each other 
 many little services such as sisters are 
 always glad to do ? 
 
 Agoonack has learned from the Kud- 
 liinah, Manenko from the Bazungu, that, 
 in this great wide world, there are many 
 kinds of children, but that one loving 
 Father takes care of them all. 
 
 Do you see that it has always been a 
 white man who has brought them this 
 knowledge of each other ? It was the 
 white captain that brought Agoonack 
 to New York. It was the good Bazungu 
 that carried the brown baby's medicine 
 to the little sick Manenko ; and it was 
 the English lady who brought the same 
 to our poor little Arab Gemila, who 
 would have died if she had taken noth- 
 ing but the fakir's curious draught. 
 
 It was an American ship that took the 
 silk that Pen-se had wound off the co- 
 coons, and carried it to the ribbon-weav- 
 ers, who made the blue ribbon foi- I^ouise. 
 
 Most of you, dear children, who read
 
 158 EACH AND ALL. 
 
 this book, are children of the white 
 man's part of our Father's great family. 
 And yet I hope some little dark-faced 
 sisters may read it too. But to us of 
 the white race, some gifts have been 
 given which as yet are not shared by 
 our dark-skinned sisters. 
 
 You remember that neither Manenko, 
 nor Gemila, nor Pen-se, nor Agoonack, 
 can read. No schools for them, no books, 
 and nothing of all the happiness that 
 comes to you through books. Think of 
 it ; not only in that respect, but in oth- 
 ers besides, you have had more and 
 greater gifts than they. 
 
 Now consider what you would do, if 
 some day, when you were at home with 
 your brothers and sisters, a great boun- 
 tiful basket of presents should come for 
 you, and nothing for them. 
 
 I am sure I know what would be your 
 first thought. And if, in the wider family 
 of the world, you see yourself with gifts 
 of knowledge or of happiness beyond
 
 CHRISTMAS-TIME FOR LOUISE. 159 
 
 those of your neighbors, you will know 
 what to do. 
 
 But do not think that these little sis- 
 ters have done nothing for you. 
 
 Did not Gemila's caravan carry the 
 gum ? Did not Agoonack's father build 
 the snow-houses and kill the seals, with- 
 out which the white men would have 
 died ? And did not Manenko's people 
 bring the great tusks of ivory ? Does not 
 Pen-se tend the silk-worms carefully and 
 well, and so have silk to make ribbons 
 and dresses for you and your mammas ? 
 
 They each work faithfully and well in 
 their own way ; and faithful work, be it 
 the work of the wisest man or of a little 
 child, is never wasted or lost. 
 
 They are all helping each other, as 
 loving sisters should ; and perhaps some 
 day they will meet, and will realize how 
 each in her own little way has done some 
 service ior the others.
 
 VOCABULARY 
 
 SEVEN LITTLE SISTERS 
 
 PART II 
 
 PRONUNCIATION. — a, e, i, 6, (i, as \n fate, mete, site, rope, tube ; a, 
 e, I, 6, fi, as in hat, met, bit, not, cut ; a, e, i, 6, ii, as xn/ar, her, fir, nor, 
 cur; a, e, i, o, u, as in vieutal, travel, peril, idol, forinn ; e6, as in feet ; do. 
 as in hoot; o», as in bou^^h ; 6u, as in croup ; qh, as in chaise. 
 
 Abdel, Ab'-del. 
 Abreys, Ab'-ris. 
 Abou, A'-bou. 
 Achmet, Ak'-met. 
 Agoonack, A-goon'-ack. 
 Ah Foil, Ah' Foil'. 
 Alec, A'-lee. 
 Aleikum, A-leek'-66m. 
 Ambatch, Am'-batk. 
 Arica, Ar'-e-ca. 
 Backsheesh, Back-sheesh. 
 Bruin, Bru'-In. 
 Buzungu, Boo-zooiig'-goo. 
 Cairo, Ki'-ro. 
 Cha, Cha. 
 Chilobe, Chc-16-ba'. 
 Cliang-foo, Chang'-foo'. 
 Chrisalides, Kris-al'-i-des. 
 
 i6i 
 
 Dom, Doom, a pahn-tree. 
 Dluira, D6o'-ra. 
 Eider, I'-der 
 El Bahr, El' Bahr'. 
 Esquimau, Es'-ke-mo. 
 Esquimaux, Es'-ke-mo. 
 Fakir, Fa-kir'. 
 Gretchen, Gret'-hyen. 
 Gcmila, Jem'-e-la. 
 I loo-chow, HoA-chovv. 
 Henak, Hen'-ak. 
 Igloo, Ig'-loe, a hut. 
 Jean, Jeen. 
 Jeannette, Jen-net'. 
 Kabobo, Ka'-bo-bo. 
 Kang-hy, Kang'-hi'. 
 Mandarin, Man-da-reen'. 
 Manenko, Man-enk'-o.
 
 1 62 
 
 VOCABULARY 
 
 Maunka, Ma-66nk'a. 
 
 Metek, Me'-tek. 
 
 Meyer, Mi'-er. 
 
 Mosamela, Mo-sam'-e la. 
 
 Motota, M5-t6'-ta. 
 
 Nalegak Soak, Na'-le-gak So'-ak. 
 
 Nannook, Nan'-nook. 
 
 Oomiak, Oo'-me-ak. 
 
 Petele, Pet'-e-le. 
 
 Pen-se Pen'-se. 
 
 Pelisse, Pe-les'. 
 
 Pemican, Pem'-ican. 
 
 Poola, P66'-la. 
 
 Puseymut, P66'-se-m66b 
 
 Salaam, Sa-lam'. 
 
 Sana, Sa'-na. 
 
 Sekomi, Se-ko'-me. 
 
 Sheik, Sheek. 
 
 Shobo, Sho'-bo. 
 
 Sipsu, Sip'-soo. 
 
 Sity, Se'-ty. 
 
 Tanka, Tank'-a. 
 
 Tye, Ti. 
 
 Tsetse, Tset'-se, an insect. 
 
 Yambo, Yam'-bo. 
 
 Ziingo, Z66ng'-go.
 
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