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 BY 
 
 (Dl^S. €MMA r^IIiDI^BTH p[DAMS. 
 
 CINCINNATI : 
 
 ^W. IVI. B. C. PRESS 
 
 1887. 
 
-is^'^'Stf^ 
 
 Copyright by 
 
 EMMA HILDRETH ADAMS. 
 
 1887. 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 eOUCATION DEPT, 
 
60NTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Digging the Top Off 5 
 
 OR Silkworms? 52 
 
 The Business of Life, 81 
 
 Hoops and Handles, 105 
 
 Zenas Price, ; 126 
 
 Clinton Mathews, 141 
 
 The Burro, 158 
 
 .5-1.1 a 56 
 

 lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllilllllllllllllllllHIIIIIIIIIIIIIilll 
 
 I. 
 
 BiGGING THE ^0P 0PF. 
 
 ¥ ^TgOE/' called Captolia, the colored girl, 
 @/ from the kitchen door-way, "bring a 
 lump of coal for the parlor grate ; quick as 
 you can.'* 
 
 "All right," shouted Joe, from the wood- 
 j shed across the yard. After Captolia closed 
 y^ the door, the hoy dealt. a half-dozen terrific 
 blows upon the ton of black carbon lying be- 
 fore him, thickly covered with ice and snow. 
 " Quick as you can," means instantly, or any 
 time hence, according to the circumstances ; and 
 
6 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 in Joe's case, on that wintry afternoon, it meant, 
 whenever he got ready. The lad's six herculean 
 strokes failed to break up even the thick coat 
 of ice, and much more to sever the large blocks 
 -of coal, which Joe's employer had bought, ^' just 
 to give the chap something to do breaking 
 them up." 
 
 As this story, in its leading incidents, is a 
 true one, perhaps I had better describe Joe Por- 
 ter, who is living to-day, grown to manhood, in 
 one of our Lirge western cities. 
 
 In appearance, he was a most unpromising 
 lad. His face was very ruddy, and nearly as 
 round as a plate. His eyes, always half shut, 
 gave him a drowsy and peculiar look. They 
 made him seem far away; and in speaking to 
 him one felt as if he must shout to make him 
 hear. His movements were so sluggish that 
 the snail could readily claim kinship with him. 
 
 Among his associates, this characteristic had 
 obtained for the boy, the title of " Slow Joe." 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 7 
 
 He wore shoes heavily soled, and much too large 
 for his feet; and he walked with an almost gi- 
 gantic tread. On his head stood a crop of brown 
 hair, as abundant as ever was seen. 
 
 Joe's battle with the ice and coal lasted 
 longer than he wished, and altogether too long 
 for Mrs. Art well's patience. Consequently, in a 
 short time Captolia again appeared in the door- 
 way, declaring : 
 
 " Joe, that coal must be brought in. Hurry, 
 once in your life." 
 
 " Well, I can 't take it in yet," answered Joe. 
 " I have to dig this top off first." 
 
 Captolia fairly flew to Mrs. Artwell with 
 this reply. Said that lady : " Tell the boy 
 there are many things in this world from which 
 the top has to be dug off as a first step, and 
 he is one of them." 
 
 The girl, nimble as a deer, lost not a moment 
 in deiinering that message to Joe, for whom she 
 entertained a feeling of supreme contempt, 
 
J8 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 because, as she daily afl&rmed, " there is no snap 
 in him." Captolia, herself, was all snap. 
 
 " Many things from which the top needs to 
 be dug off," soliloquized Joe, after Captolia had 
 closed the door with a snap, "and I'm one of 
 them ! If that 's so, what 's the top on me ? 
 And who 's going to dig it off ? Will it take an 
 instrument as sharp as this ax? And blows as 
 heavy as I 'm giving this coal ? Whew ! I be- 
 lieve Mrs. Artwell has taken the top off me, 
 already." 
 
 By some inscrutable process, the lady's care- 
 less words had set Joe's blood to flowing rap- 
 idly ; had driven sudden vigor into his arms ; in 
 fact, had aroused the whole boy. Joe felt the 
 change. What produced it he never dreamed. 
 But more swiftly now fell the strokes upon the 
 black fuel, and soon the great block lay scat- 
 tered about in pieces which he could lift quite 
 easily. 
 
 " There !" he said, " the next time I contract 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. Q 
 
 to hammer away like that, upon the great coal 
 deposit of North America, I'll bargain that it 
 shall first be changed into diamonds, and then 
 I'll work upon it with a nicer instrument than 
 this ax." 
 
 With some effort Joe raised a lump from the 
 ground, carried it into the house, and laid it on 
 the grate. His immense shoes were loaded with 
 ice and snow. Mrs. Artwell observed- them im- 
 mediately. So did Joe — through her eyes. In- 
 stantly he thought she associated them with the 
 top which ought to come off. He, himself, did ; 
 but what the connection was he could n't tell. 
 
 It was barely five o'clock of a gray, cold 
 afternoon, yet Mrs. Artwell had already lighted 
 the gas, and now sat near the drop-light, reading. 
 The room was ornamented with many bright 
 articles, and in Joe's estimation was a beautiful 
 place. At her throat the lady had fastened a 
 scarlet rose. Her attire was black. Her black 
 hair and dark eyes reflected the light, and alto- 
 
10 DIGGING THE TOP OFF, 
 
 gether, her appearance was so engaging that, as 
 Joe was leaving the room, he turned, at the door, 
 and looked at her admiringly. 
 
 "It does make a difference, there's no mis- 
 take !" he said to himself, as he went through the 
 kitchen, over a floor which Captolia's hands had 
 made as clean as wax — Captolia "hated dirt." 
 " I tell you, Mrs. Artwell has browsed where the 
 grass was tender and sweet. But my mother! 
 stars and garters ! has n't she had to live in 
 pastures where there were only stacks of 
 straw ! 
 
 "Mrs. Artwell is a bouquet of a woman; but 
 I wonder if she would be able to advise a poor 
 fellow, who had got into a tight place, how to 
 get out of it. My mother is the very woman 
 for that business. Does n't she know this world 
 like a book, though ? Has n't she tried it on 
 most sides? And the rest she knows without 
 trying. No paint on her ! She 's the honest 
 grain of the wood, clear up to the top." 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. H 
 
 Joe lived in Marigold Alley, the fourth house 
 from the corner. During this bit of thinking, so 
 complimentary to his mother, he had walked out 
 to the street and turned toward home. His eyes 
 were bent upon his noisy shoes, but he did n't 
 see them. He saw only the inner Joe, and won- 
 dered what could be so much amiss with him ; 
 for to that Joe he was sure the message deliv- 
 ered to him by Captolia related. 
 
 There are times in every boy's life, when 
 some caustic remark burns its way into his very 
 soul. In Joe's experience such a time had come. 
 A single sentence, containing a sharp suggestion 
 about digging, and the modest little word "top," 
 had seized him with the force of a pair of grap- 
 pling-irons. Shake it off? No. 
 
 Had Mrs. Art well lectured the boy for an 
 hour, on the duty of forming a noble character 
 during his youth, disgust and a feeling of impa- 
 tience would probably have been the only results 
 she would have produced. For the occasion, and 
 
12 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 unconsciously, the little woman was an artist of 
 high talent. With a couple of strokes of her 
 brush she had painted Joe's portrait* — full length 
 and true to life. Joe was disturbed by the 
 likeness. 
 
 ^^ What was Joe's occupation?" 
 
 Growing was the more constant one. He had 
 several others, however. Nights and mornings 
 he did errands and chores for Mr. Artwell, who 
 was the president of the street railway com- 
 pany. That gentleman lived on Myrtle Street, 
 not more than three minutes' run from Joe's 
 lowly home. Here the lad's duties were quite 
 numerous. He swept the porches and walks ; 
 kept fuel at hand for the parlor grate; took 
 charge of the furnace; groomed Mr. Artwell's 
 horse, and drove him to the door mornings, when 
 that gentleman was ready to dash away to busi- 
 ness; and at night he stood ready to take Prince 
 to his stall, the moment his owner drew rein at 
 the front gate ; for some reason Joe liked to have 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF, 13 
 
 people rely upon him to do things. Besides all 
 these employments, the youth attended school six 
 hours a day, five days in the week. 
 
 " How could a slow boy accomplish so much ?" 
 
 Simply by " keeping at it." Joe Porter pos- 
 sessed a magnificent gift for that. He had 
 learned that every moment's working at a task 
 brings it so much the nearer to being done, 
 and also that tasks never do themselves. 
 
 Reaching home, the boy went into the kitchen, 
 where his mother was busy getting supper for 
 her husband and four children. Usually he en- 
 tered that kitchen, after his day's work was 
 done, with a most vigorous tread, and with the 
 pathetic entreaty : " Mother, hurry up your sup- 
 per ; I 'm starving." 
 
 But that evening he entered with so little 
 noise, spite of his shoes, that Mrs. Porter looked 
 around to see if it were really Joe. 
 
 Seating himself by the stove, he leaned for- 
 ward; rested his elbows on his knees; supported 
 
14 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 his chin with his hands; kept as silent as the 
 stars overhead — and thought. 
 
 Mrs. Porter was not only a sensible Scotch 
 woman, but she was also like a telescope. She 
 could see very far — into appearances. That some- 
 thing had happened to disturb Joe, unusually, was 
 plain enough. That he would, in time, tell her 
 what that something was, was just as plain. 
 So she wisely asked him no questions and hur- 
 ried the supper. " Most people," she thought, 
 *' are ready to talk after a meal." 
 
 In the course of ten or fifteen minutes, Mr. 
 Porter came in from his shop at the back of the 
 yard. Approaching the stove he laid a hand on 
 each of Joe's shoulders and shook them vigor- 
 ously, saying in a hearty manner : 
 
 "How went school to-day, my boy? How 've 
 you got along in your studies T 
 
 "Well enough," muttered Joe, crustily, not 
 looking up, but hitching uneasily on his chair. 
 He knew that was an uncivil answer to questions 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 15 
 
 so kind, and, the next breath, was sorry he had 
 spoken those two words. 
 
 Having been a boy himself, Mr. Porter un- 
 derstood their ways, and spent not a thought on 
 this new phase of conduct in Joe. Upon Mrs. 
 Porter the effect was different. While one of 
 the most loving of mothers, she was likewise 
 a strict disciplinarian, and exacted from her chil- 
 dren unqualified respect toward their parents, in 
 word and deed. Joe was no stranger to this 
 fact, and instinctively looked up as she came out 
 of the pantry just then. The look of disap- 
 proval in her face impelled him to turn to his 
 father, presently, and say in a bright way : 
 
 " Pa, I stood in the nineties in all my studies 
 this week." 
 
 ''That's good news, my boy. Is this the last 
 examination before you go up ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. After the holidays I enter the next 
 grade. And Miss Duncan says that, with good 
 luck, I shall finish the course there in one year." 
 
16 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 " Well, good luck to you then ! But what next?" 
 
 ^'I can enter the high-school, sir, if you 
 should n't need me in the shop next year," an- 
 swered the boy. 
 
 "Matters are so arranged in this world that 
 we can't always have what we think we need, 
 Joe. We might retain the high-school in our 
 plans until we see how matters turn out." 
 
 Joe possessed an imperial sense of right, and 
 after supper, the more to remove any uncomfort- 
 able feeling from her heart, he performed several 
 little services that were especially helpful to his 
 mother. He even undressed the baby and put him 
 in bed. Usually the little fellow fell asleep on 
 the braided, woolen rug near the stove, while the 
 mother did up the supper work. Then, not being 
 able to think of any further aid he could render, 
 Joe took a book and read until his father and 
 little sisters had gone to bed. Then, turning to 
 his mother who sat near, quietly darning stock- 
 ings, he asked : 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 17 
 
 " Mother, what is meant by ' digging the top 
 off a boy ?' " 
 
 " By what, my son T 
 
 '' I guess I 'd better explain, though it is n't 
 easy to do it. I imagine it's something which 
 you can 't dig as you can potatoes ; something 
 that comes where it's not wanted, like Canada 
 thistles, and which you have to keep working at, 
 or it gets the upper hand." 
 
 Joe then faithfully rehearsed the incident 
 which set him to such uncomfortable thinking. 
 
 ^' I must consider the matter a little while 
 before I can answer wisely, Joe." 
 
 While his mother " considered," Joe sat look- 
 ing at her. She was a study to him. He ob- 
 served how plainly her hair was combed back 
 from her fine forehead, that instead of a bright, 
 scarlet rose, a small brown button ornamented 
 her dress at the neck, and that her hands, in- 
 stead of being white and shapely, were red 
 and rough. Instead of reading and leisurely 
 
18 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 rocking, she was vigorously mending stockings 
 for him. 
 
 " Even if she were reading," he thought, 
 " she 'd all the while be thinking how she could 
 turn what she learned to some good account for 
 us children." 
 
 Having reached that conclusion, the boy 
 waited through what seemed an age, before Mrs. 
 Porter, looking up, said : 
 
 '* My son, I think Mrs. Art well's words mean 
 a great deal more than you realize." 
 
 " Well, if that 's your opinion, where 's their 
 mischief going to end ? I have n't felt like Joe 
 Porter since five o'clock. Her words stick in me 
 like arrows. I was in hopes you 'd pull them out. 
 'Stead of that you think they 've got to go deeper." 
 
 Joe could hardly have uttered three sentences 
 which would have appealed more powerfully 
 to his mother's sympathies ; but, determined to 
 improve the opportunity for her son's benefit, she 
 quietly said : 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 19 
 
 " My son, most boys at your age are just 
 emerging from the chrysalis condition of their 
 character. A germ of genuine manliness exists 
 in them. But it is so completely covered over 
 with a crust of disagreeable traits and tempers, 
 that unless it be cleared away, unlike the coal, 
 with its top, character will be spoiled. A boy 
 crusted over with selfishness, self-conceit, un- 
 truthfulness, indolence, a quick temper, with per- 
 haps a strong craving for many harmful things, 
 and a coat of rude manners outside all these, 
 needs " — 
 
 " Hold on, I beg of you, mother! That 's an 
 awfully thick crust. Pray, are all those things 
 the ' top ' which must come off?" 
 
 ^' Would you like to see Joe buried under a 
 single one of them ?" 
 
 '^It strikes me that boys are about all top. 
 I should like to know how much genuine boy 
 you'd have left, after all that rubbish had been 
 cleared away. I tell you, mother, most boys are 
 
20 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 buried too deep for resurrection. The ' true char- 
 acter/ as you call it, lies clear out of sight." 
 
 " Still, it can be brought to view, and into 
 service, Joe; and the earlier a boy gets rid of 
 such useless and harmful traits, the better ; for 
 they act as a ravenous rust, eating up the valu- 
 able qualities they so nearly conceal." 
 
 " Stars ! mother, but you *d make a good lawyer ! 
 It takes you to state a case clearly. Now, what 
 I want to know is this : If a chap is hidden away 
 under all this load, who 's going to dig him out ? 
 Must a fellow do it himself, or can his friends 
 lend. a hand?" Joe looked fairly dismayed. 
 
 " Any boy who really wants this destructive 
 top removed, can have help from several sources. 
 At the same time he must make up his mind to 
 do the greater part of the digging himself. I 
 have known boys to leave it all for their friends 
 to do, but that is not an honorable way out of 
 the difficulty." 
 
 " Well, mother, name the several sources. I 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 21 
 
 suppose the helps are to serve as shovels, pick- 
 axes, etc." 
 
 "That is not so very inapt an illustration, 
 my son, and a boy's friends answer the purpose 
 of such instruments, nicely; and daily trials, 
 rightly handled, make the best of crowbars for 
 prying up faults. A boy's enemies, also, may 
 prove admirable helps. They have sharp eyes 
 and can detect the smallest blemish in his char- 
 acter sooner than his friends can. But — " 
 
 " Hold on again, mother. A boy's enemies ! 
 If you please, I '11 take all such help at a big 
 discount. Just cross that class off the list. I 
 hope the remaining * sources ' are not of that sort." 
 
 " Yet he is a wise boy, Joe, who can make 
 even the criticisms of his enemies a means for 
 improving his character. You must not be too 
 particular as to the instruments by which the 
 top comes off. Get rid of it by all methods. 
 Prayer and the Word of God are among the best 
 means which come into my mind just now." 
 
22 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 '' I agree to that, mother. Now how 's a 
 fellow to begin digging? Exactly what must be 
 his first step? I understood how to get the ice 
 and snow off that coal, and I can shovel snow 
 off sidewalks as well as any other fellow ; but 
 when it comes to clearing away ill manners, 
 and all that sort of thing, and my own rude 
 manners, at that, I 'm clear out to sea. I 
 don't know even how to begin. 
 
 "I'll tell you what it is, mother, it would 
 have been a grand scheme, if, when boys first 
 began, somebody had laid down precise rules for 
 the government of the entire crop, just as the 
 teachers do in school. There, a chap knows ex- 
 actly what he must do. Nothing is left for trial, 
 just to see how your actions will turn out. But 
 no. I 'm a good ways off, there. The same 
 rules won't fit every school. And that's the 
 trouble with boys. No two of them are alike. 
 So a different set of regulations must be fixed 
 up for every fellow. How in the world is such 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 23 
 
 a variety invented ? It seems to me that fathers 
 and mothers, from Adam down, have had their 
 hands full, studying the make-up of their chil- 
 dren, in order to know when to say, ^You can' 
 and ' You can 't.' " 
 
 This was an airing of opinions, on Joe's part, 
 which was somewhat surprising to Mrs. Porter. 
 But seizing upon the boy's first remark, she said, 
 seriously : 
 
 ^^ Joe, thousands of years ago, men were fur- 
 nished a code of laws, which were perfectly 
 adapted to meet every human being's case, in 
 this respect. They were intended to be a sure 
 guide in boyhood, manhood, and old age ; and to 
 regulate, not only each one's peculiar passions 
 and weaknesses, but also his wants, thoughts, 
 motives, purposes, and actions. They were 
 framed by the only Being who knew what was 
 in man. They were spoken by God. They 
 exist in the world to-day." 
 
 " Ah ! mother, I begin to see what you 
 
24 ^DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 mean — the Ten Commandments. But I do n't 
 see how you can apply them so closely, and to 
 so much. If you can, why a boy has, at once, 
 a whole kit of amazingly sharp tools to work 
 with." 
 
 " They meet the emergency every time, Joe, 
 for the Bible says they are perfect, turning again 
 the soul. Rightly used they can 't fail. It is 
 because all men need turning that these precepts 
 answer so grand a purpose in the world. So to 
 speak, Joe, men, naturally, stand with their backs 
 toward God. The Ten Commandments, obeyed, 
 have the power to turn them right about." 
 
 " Then there is more in them than any boy 
 I know dreams of; but the question is, • How to 
 begin the digging.' Let us get started, mother ; 
 then, if we can use the Ten Commandments, why, 
 all right." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Mrs. Porter, in a thoughtful 
 tone, the best way to begin, is to correct one 
 fault at a time, and to attack first, the one which 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 25 
 
 lies most in the way. By the time two or three 
 are removed, you '11 have an idea how the work 
 is done; and, in the end, you '11 come to the true 
 Joe beneath them all. But you must bear in 
 mind that different faults nre removed by differ- 
 ent instruments." 
 
 Joe's round face now wore a serious ex- 
 pression. " In the end, you say, mother. Then 
 it 's a life-work, and in my opinion Joe's resur- 
 rection is hopeless. But suppose you tell me 
 which, of all the heap, is my worst failing." 
 
 That was a heroic request. Mrs. Porter hes- 
 itated, and unconsciously drew into her needle 
 an immensely long thread. Of the defects in 
 her child's character she had never determined 
 v^hich was the most prominent. But recalling, 
 now, how numerous and how intense, always, 
 had been his wants, and how persistently he 
 made them manifest, she asked, very tenderly : 
 
 " Is n't it selfishness, mv son ?" 
 
 Joe had already divined her thought, and 
 
26 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 immediately said : " I guess you have about hit 
 it, mother. Now, where 's the shovel, pick-ax, 
 or crow-bar, that can break up selfishness? If 
 the thing 's got to be done, the sooner a fellow 
 takes off his gloves and goes to work the better 
 for him, I think." 
 
 If there was one good characteristic Joe did 
 not lack, it was readiness to undertake a disagree- 
 able duty. Indeed, he sometimes appeared to be 
 really happy when in a close fight with a for- 
 bidding task. Hence he was not the boy to 
 shrink from a battle with his foibles, if battle 
 there must be. 
 
 "Selfishness forms a pretty solid crust over 
 many a dear boy, Joe ; but there is an instru- 
 ment, which, if faithfully used, never fails to 
 shiver the trait as fine as dust. It is rather diffi- 
 cult for beginners to handle, and suppose you try 
 using it awhile before you know its name." 
 
 "That's a queer proposal, mother. A boy 
 always hates working in the dark. But if you 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF: 27 
 
 know how the thing operates, all right; I'll go 
 ahead." 
 
 " Have you planned to spend to-morrow fore- 
 noon at the public library?" asked Mrs. Porter, 
 sud<lenly and utterly changing the subject. 
 
 " Yes ; Jack Winters and I are to be there 
 from nine until twelve. But why do you ask 
 that question ?" 
 
 " For this reason : To-morrow is to be one of 
 the busiest days I shall see this Winter. Mamie 
 and Julia will be employed every moment. 
 Could n't you postpone your visit to the library 
 and spend the morning at home, amusing Neddie 
 and saving me steps ?" 
 
 " But there 's the disappointment to Jack, 
 mother." 
 
 '^Yes; it is there," said Mrs. Porter, in a 
 tone which produced a mental electric shock 
 in Joe. 
 
 '*A boy hates to make promises, and break 
 them, without a big excuse." 
 
28 DIGGING THE TOP OFR 
 
 " The size of our excuses, Joe, can not always 
 be determined at first sight. Reasons for con- 
 duct often grow while we are considering them. 
 The principle of keeping engagements is a right 
 one. At the same time, it is equally just some- 
 times to recall an engagement, even when it is a 
 very proper one. On the other hand, if it be a 
 wrong one, it is our duty to break it. Your 
 engagements for to-morrow are perfectly right." 
 
 "Mother, I'll give it up. I 'Jl notify Jack, 
 before breakfast, that I can't go." 
 
 Mrs. Porter rolled Joe's mended stockings 
 together, turned the top of one over both, 
 smoothly, and laid them on the table before him. 
 Then, looking up in his face, she remarked, 
 kindly : 
 
 "My son, I was greatly interested in the game 
 of ball I heard you talking about last evening. 
 Does it really come off to-morrow afternoon?" 
 
 "Sure as the day comes and no snow^ with 
 it. What of it?" 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF, 29 
 
 "Are you one of the nine?" 
 
 " Pitcher/' responded Joe, laconically. 
 
 "Just before tea," continued Mrs. Porter, 
 thrusting her fingers through a large hole in the 
 toe of a little stocking, " I ran over to Mrs. Mills 
 for a moment, and found Harry in bed with an 
 arm badly broken. His mother says he suffers 
 much from loneliness. And he told me the days 
 seemed forty-eight hours long. If I can spare 
 you at two o'clock to-morrow afternoon, can 't you 
 try to shorten the time for him, taking a lively 
 book over with you?" 
 
 Joe's great round face clouded over instantly. 
 The game of ball was to be one of unusual inter- 
 est. A visiting nine was to be present. He was 
 the most important member of his club, and the 
 "boss pitcher" of the vicinity. Besides, who 
 could take his place on such short notice ? More- 
 over, Harry Mills was no special friend of his. 
 In fact, though he knew it, he had almost for- 
 gotten that the boy had broken his arm. 
 
30 DIGGING THE TOP OFF, 
 
 Mrs. Porter waited, and darned, and said 
 nothing. 
 
 Finally, Joe's voice trembled, as he inquired : 
 '^ Mother, is it only in such ways that the top 
 can come off?" 
 
 "There is almost no end of ways for getting 
 it off, my dear. But we are at work upon selfish- 
 ness now. No instrument splinters that like 
 self-denial — now you have the name of it ; but a 
 boy must take it in his own hands, and use it for 
 himself. I can tell you when to strike the blows, 
 but I can 't be Joe." 
 
 "Mother, my honest opinion is that boys 
 have a mighty big job set for them in this busi- 
 ness. How, in the name of George Washington, 
 those poor fellows work their way through it, 
 who hav^ no mother to lend them a hand, is more 
 than I can understand. There ought to be tons 
 of genuine boy at the bottom, to pay for such 
 tedious digging off of top. Pray, how long must 
 the process go on before a fellow begins to see 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 31 
 
 daylight through the crust, and begins to be 
 somebody?" 
 
 "■'A boy is somebody the moment he bravely 
 undertakes to rid himself of infirmities of ehjir- 
 acter. The very making an effort to do this 
 renders him of consequence, puts power within 
 him. In the past it has been the duty of your 
 parents to try to correct your faults, but no 
 parents have ever yet made a child faultless. 
 Indeed, my son, while I think of it, it is the 
 Lord Jesus Christ alone who can make a 
 human being perfect. We can pray for you at 
 all times, and that will be a great help ; but you 
 are now old enough to take the matter mostly 
 into your own hands. We can 't be Joe." 
 
 It was getting late. Mrs. Porter began 
 picking up her work. Joe rose from his seat; 
 put his book under his arm ; took up the stock- 
 ings his mother had darned, and paced slowly 
 across the floor several times, thinking very 
 hard. Finally, marching up to his mother,, who 
 
32 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 had stepped into the pantry to make some prepa- 
 ration for breakfast, he put his arm around her 
 waist and kissed her heartily, saying : 
 
 "Mother, I'll do both things. The last- 
 duty, I suppose you 'd call it — is n't a job a fel- 
 low 'd beg for. It will hurt dreadfully, but I '11 
 do it. I remember that Frank Carroll is a tip- 
 top pitcher ; I '11 get him to take my place in the 
 game, and I '11 exercise my wits for Harry. He 
 shall have so good a time that he will be glad his 
 arm is broken. But listen, mother; I want you 
 to keep within calling distance until I get well 
 along in this business of digging, and that will 
 be several years to come. Your way of getting 
 the top off takes right hold of the heap. I tell 
 you it suits me. Good-night." 
 
 The boy walked out of the room, closed 
 the door softly after him — his mother noticed 
 that — and slowly climbed the staircase. He was 
 surprised to find himself not sleepy. Ordinarily 
 he could keep awake barely long enough to 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF, 33 
 
 undress; but to-night he lay long, with eyes 
 wide open, looking into the darkness and think- 
 ing of his *' life-work," and of what it was going 
 to cost for one day to do it. 
 
 " It seems to me," we should have heard him 
 say, had his thoughts been expressed audibly, 
 ^Uhat to-morrow has skipped, with all its ap- 
 pointments. And what an odd set of things 
 have popped up to be done ! And they make 
 themselves stay, too. Pitching, and study at the 
 cheerful library, are elbowed square off the track. 
 Indeed, I think I 'm off the track myself. Four 
 hours ago I would-n't have believed I could have 
 felt so differently. I suppose this giving up play 
 and taking to digging, is what they call ^ turning 
 over a new leaf.' If so, there 's a mighty change 
 in the subject on the new side. Only two words 
 tell the story, with not even a comma between." 
 
 Joe sighed deeply and felt heavy-hearted. 
 He meant to do all he had promised, and to do 
 it cheerfully ; but the double shock of finding 
 
34 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 himself a buried boy, and of the change in his 
 plans for the morrow, had been too great for 
 speedily going to sleep. A little later he heard 
 his mother moving about down-stairs. This re- 
 called the fact that she was to be his helper, 
 and immediately his spirits began to revive. 
 " Mother seems to understand this whole business 
 of digging. I m glad she does. I should make 
 no headway without her," he thought, as he 
 turned once more on his pillow. 
 
 Then there fljished into his mind a perception 
 of his mother s worth, as keen as it was new. 
 This added to his uneasiness. He saw that he 
 had often actually wronged her, and in the next 
 moment wished for the morning, that he might 
 manifest his awakened appreciation of her. 
 Sometime after, Joe observed that there was a deep 
 stillness down-stairs. At the same time he knew 
 his mother had not come up to bed. " I wish 
 she would come. I'd like to speak to her before 
 I go to sleep." 
 
DIGGING TEE TOP OFF. 35 
 
 Could Joe have looked into the room below, 
 just then, he would have seen his mother seated 
 in front of the fast cooling stove, her feet resting 
 on a small box covered with a patch-work of bits 
 of flannel, red, white, and black, and her head 
 bowed upon her hands. She was thinking of 
 the same things which kept her boy awake. It 
 had never been put to her mind just that V7ay 
 before, this digging the top off children. 
 
 '^It's a novel idea, but not a bad one after 
 all," she thought. "But what a work it is! 
 Done rightly, it amounts to nothing less than 
 putting off the old man and putting on the new. 
 I see plainly that I must lend a hand to Joe, and 
 to all the others, too, for that matter. But alas! 
 what woman is sufficient for these things?" 
 
 " ' My grace is sufficient.' I can do all things 
 through Christ who strengtheneth me," darted 
 into her mind like an arrow. 
 
 " Yes," she assented, " he is the great source 
 of power, and is as free to Joe as to me. That's 
 
36 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 a comfort. But what tact and foresight and 
 sound sense, with ceaseless love, and who knows 
 what all of other gifts and graces, a mother needs 
 to guide weir such a boy as Joe ! And the lad 
 fares ill whose mother lacks them, very ill." 
 
 Feeling very weary, and concluding that ex- 
 perience would make her course clearer, Mrs. 
 Porter set her chair against the wall, locked 
 the outside door, wound the little round clock on 
 the shelf between the two windows, and, lighting 
 a small lamp, went up stairs softly. 
 
 *^ Mother," called a low voice as she passed 
 the door of Joe's room. 
 
 " What is it, my son ?" she asked, much sur- 
 prised, but not opening the door. It had been 
 years since Joe had been awake when she went 
 to bed. 
 
 *' Good-night." The boy's voice was full of 
 feeling. 
 
 " Good-night, dear. Have n't you been 
 asleep ?" 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 37 
 
 "No, mother. Sleep and I have had a 
 falling out. I should like to make up, but 
 it takes two, you know, and the other fellow 
 won t. 
 
 Mrs. Porter entered the room, seated herself 
 on the bedside, brushed the boy's hair back from 
 his forehead, and began relating an amusing in- 
 cident which happened in Scotland in her youth, 
 never touching upon their recent conversation. 
 When she concluded the story, Joe was across 
 the ocean making himself acquainted with the 
 funny little house in which his mother was born 
 and married, and totally forgotten that any opera- 
 tion of agriculture was ever applicable to him- 
 self or any other boy. 
 
 The next afternoon about two o'clock, Joe 
 laid aside the book he had been reading for a 
 few moments, saying: 
 
 " Mother, I think it is about time to go over 
 to Harry's. Ned 's asleep and the girls will soon 
 be home. Can you get along?" 
 
M DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 " JSasily, Joe. I 'in not the least tired. 
 You 've done me a world of good to-day." 
 
 Why she Was not tired was something of a 
 mystery to Joe, for since break of day her feet 
 had been still only while she ate her breakfast 
 and dinner. Had his being at home kept off theJ 
 feeling of weariness ? The very thought brought 
 to the boy a pleasure entirely new, and was 
 of itself, an ample recompense for the disappoint- 
 ment with which he had been silently battling 
 all the foretiooii. 
 
 Neither mother nor son had once alluded to 
 the hurtful top, at which the latter was now 
 working; yet most of their thinking had been on 
 that subject. Nor had Joe's promise to devote 
 the nftetnoon to Harry been once mentioned. 
 
 Mrs. Porter saw plainly, as she had remarked 
 the evening before, the necessity of Joe's solving 
 fot himself the problem of digging the top off, and, 
 its Well, the loss he Would incur, should he fail to 
 do so, and therefore did not propose to alloW hef 
 
DIGGING mt: TOP OFF, 39 
 
 tnotherly tenderness and sympathy to contribute 
 to any such disaster. Thus she left Joe to his 
 own course in the case, resolved to bring her 
 forces on the field only in times of threatened 
 defeat. 
 
 The day had already brought him some sharp 
 conflicts. In the morning he went through his 
 round of duties at Mrs. Artwell's, with the feel- 
 ing that the bright little woman — with no top on 
 her — knew all about the exceeding depth of the 
 crust above him, and determined she should 
 know he had beguri to " break it up." 
 
 His first step toward imparting this knowl- 
 edge was to ask Captolia, at the door, for a broom 
 with which to "sweep his shoes" before he went 
 ill. She handed it to him with the kind iii- 
 juftction: 
 
 " Sweep your head tvell, Joe, '^hile you are 
 jtbout it." 
 
 " I 've a mind to scJW h^i: flboi" thick With 
 coal-dust and snow," h§ said, hurt, for Sin instant. 
 
40 DIGGING TEE TOP OFF. 
 
 Then, concluding that putting a top on that 
 would remove none of his, he caught up his 
 great lump of coal; carried it in and laid it in 
 the grate, as was his custom every morning. 
 As he entered the sitting-room he cast a glance 
 at Mrs. Artwell, asking himself: 
 
 "Will she notice my clean shoes? or my 
 lighter footsteps ?" 
 
 Alas ! the little woman neither looked up, nor 
 spoke a word, and all the satisfaction he got out 
 of his effort was "the principle of the thing." 
 
 A word, or look, of approval, is sometimes a 
 great help to a boy fighting for his life. A ma- 
 chine capable of bringing coal into the house 
 would have been an object of greater interest to 
 Mrs. Artwell than was Joe. That would have 
 awakened her curiosity. She would have exam- 
 ined it, studied it, perhaps; but here was this 
 boy, fearfully and wonderfully made, yet worthy 
 of not a single thought. 
 
 The writer once knew a woman, a good 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 41 
 
 woman, a generous-hearted woman, who consid- 
 ered it her Christian duty, not to praise one of 
 her household for well-doing. Never, however, 
 did she suffer an instance of mistake, or failure, 
 to pass without comment. According to her view 
 that was right. Was it? 
 
 ^'Really, Joe, that's refreshing," said Cap- 
 tolia, in a tantalizing tone, scanning the boy's 
 shoes, as he passed through the kitchen on his 
 way to the cellar, to *^ 'tend to the furnace." 
 
 " If your top would only sweep off, we 'd 
 soon have you winking at daylight. Say, Joe, 
 have you any idea what the top is on you? 
 Tou know Mrs. Artwell says there is one, and 
 she knows, if anybody does. Is it laziness, or 
 natural thick-headedness, or what?" 
 
 '' The whole three," cried Joe, as he dropped 
 lightly down the staircase. He had barely 
 touched the floor when his temper began to blaze. 
 ^* Whew ! How hot it is here ! I wish I could 
 whistle; but I suppose whistling in any woman's 
 
41 mOGim TffE TOP OFF, 
 
 house, except my mother's, would be a part of 
 thi) cpat of riide manners which has to be cleared 
 away. Good Santa Claus ! It 's just as I said last 
 night; boys are all top; removp that, and your boy 
 i^ gone. My ! is n't there a remedy for all this ?" 
 
 Joe had forgotten some things his mother had 
 s^i4, as she darned and talked when they were 
 alone together, the evening before. 
 
 " Oh I Joe, this is positively sickening," ex- 
 claimed J'rank Colver, a couple of hours later, 
 when he, with another i^ember of the ^^nine," 
 called to talk over the prospect for the game in 
 th^ afternoon. 
 
 " Let Harry go to the Arctic regions if he 
 wants the (Jays shortened; or to the dime 
 museum; or to bed- This is succumbing to sen- 
 timent at the first attack. Did nt suppose you 
 CQuld be captured so easily." 
 
 ^^ Well, then, you 're learning something new?" 
 i^epli^d Joe, smiling, but not in the least relaxing 
 frpin his purpose. 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF, 43 
 
 " But really, fellow, what do you mean ?" 
 
 ^'Mean to spend the afternoon with Harry. 
 Carroll is going to take my work, and is just as 
 good a pitcher. The fun will not be spoiled, in 
 the least. I V*e made up my mind to do this 
 'dx^d am going to do it." 
 
 " Then there 's no use talking. But suppose 
 we elect Carroll, pitcher, in your place ?" 
 
 " Do it, if you like. Ball-playing is not the 
 only pastime in the world." 
 
 "Oh, Joe!" pleaded Tom Merrill, '^ give up 
 this nonsense, and be on hand at two o'clock. 
 Simply reading to Harry is n't going to save his 
 life, and to-morrow will answer as well as to-day." 
 
 " Tom, I Ve played a good many games with 
 you, boys, and got lots of fun out of the business, , 
 and hope I shall again; but this afternoon. Duty 
 takes the lead. Come around, a little after tea, 
 and tell me how the game went off. Encourage 
 C^rroU to do his best." Thus saying, Joe took 
 Neddie by the hand and walked towards the 
 
44 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 house, while his companions proceeded down the 
 alley. 
 
 About a quarter past two, Joe stood on the 
 door-step at Mrs. Mills', waiting to be admitted. 
 Under his jacket was the book he intended to 
 read to Harry, if reading should appear to be 
 the best thing to do for him. Its title we do 
 not know. It is not necessary we should. But 
 we are quite certain it was not yellow-colored, 
 nor illustrated with striking wood-cuts, designed 
 especially to rivet the attention of young read- 
 ers, and to lure them on through the hurtful 
 pages, in spite of repeated shocks to their fine 
 sensibilities. The volume had been selected by 
 the plain little Scotch woman who possessed such 
 wonderful mind-sight, and was therefore safe for 
 any boy to read. 
 
 Mrs. Mills opened the door. " I have come 
 to sit with Harry awhile, if you have no objec- 
 tions," announced Joe, his ftice bright with health 
 and contentment. 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF, 45 
 
 " Indeed, Joe, I 'm glad you 've come. You 
 will find Harry wrapped in the blues. His arm 
 pains him some, and he feels rather lonely, sup- 
 posing every boy but himself had left the neigh- 
 borhood this afternoon. Boys are quite like 
 sheep, you know ; where one goes all want to 
 go," remarked the lady sweetly, as she led the 
 way to her son, buried in a large easy-chair be- 
 fore the fire. 
 
 Joe stepped up to the chair, held out his 
 hand to the occupant, saying : " Hello, Harry. 
 Got tired of the fellows outside, did you ? and 
 thought you M retreat to your castle, and broke 
 your arm for an excuse ? How 's the experiment 
 going to turn out? Any difference between 
 castle building and living in a castle ? Hope you 
 can stand being remembered, for some of us chaps 
 think of you now and then." 
 
 " Should n't wonder if the experiment should 
 turn me out before it is finished," replied the 
 pale boy, his face brightening at sight of his 
 
4g, DIOGim THE TOP OFF. 
 
 spjipol-mate. '^Joe, you are a brick to call in 
 on your way, Shut up here, a fellow listens to 
 th^ grumbling of his pains until he tires of their 
 music, Then his wants fairly talk out loud. 
 $[othing he has is worth any thing, and every 
 thing he has not is worth its weight in gold. In 
 f^^ct, a fellows feels as though every thing were ii^ 
 a tangle, and wonders if he ever will find the end 
 of the skein. Wish you could stay awhile." 
 
 " Just what I came for," said Joe. " Prop 
 the snarled skein, and before night, you '11 feel 
 like a Major-General." 
 
 Joe took a seat, offered him by Mrs. Mills, 
 ^bo, herself cheered a bit, because she saw Harry 
 ■^as, had stood, waiting for the dialogue to be 
 finished. She then left the boys alone and went 
 to her cares. As the door closed after her, Harry 
 turned to his visitor and asked : 
 
 f ' How is this, Joe? I thought you were to 
 b^ the pitcher at that game this afternoon." 
 
 '^Yes, I'm their pitcher," answered Joe." 
 
DIGGING TEE TOP OFF, 47 
 
 " Why are yoii not th^re f\ 
 
 " Because I am here." 
 
 " Who takes your place?" 
 
 " Carroll/' 
 
 " What is that for ?" 
 
 " I asked him to do so." 
 
 " Was there any trouble ? Did n't the boys 
 ^q,nt you?'' 
 
 " There was no trouble. ' The boys did wapt 
 me." 
 
 A hot thought flashed through Harry's mind. 
 Could Joe have withdrawn from the game simply 
 that he might spend the afternoon with him ? It 
 looked like it, certainly. Then looking Joe in 
 the face, he asked, in an earnest voice : 
 
 • • Joe, did you give up your place in the 
 game on purpose to come here ?" ' 
 
 " I did, and I did n't. I came more for my 
 own good than for yours." 
 
 " Old fellow, you talk in riddles. You are 
 not shut up. You have n't a broken arm. The 
 
48 DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 
 
 blues do n't swarm around you. How is it for 
 your good T asked Harry with the short cut, 
 boys naturally take with each other. 
 
 "I'll tell you, Harry. I wanted, immensely, 
 to play this game. It cost me a big fight with 
 myself, to give it up. My mother — gracious ! 
 but has n't she sharp eyes ! — saw that selfishness 
 and some other hungry traits were eating me up, 
 and proposed I should begin saving ny life, by 
 taking doses of ^self-denial, and that I should be- 
 gin this morning, taking two doses to-day. This 
 is the second dose. I was three hours getting 
 the first one down. I knew she was right and 
 fell in with the plan. That's why I'm here. 
 She asked me to come." 
 
 " And I 'm the boy you have never liked very 
 well, Joe," brcfke from Harry, frankly, his lips 
 quivering a little. " I should think that would 
 make the afternoon dose a tough one." 
 
 " Now there you 're off. For when I said 
 I 'd come, I began to like you. Now I 'm glad 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF, 49 
 
 I 'm here. I can 't tell whether I Ve taken the 
 medicine or not. If I have, it 's had just the 
 contrary effect of that little book, which the 
 Apostle John ate lip, in ' The Revelation * you 
 know." 
 
 By this time, all Joe's interest in the subject 
 of digging the top off himself, had revived, and 
 he most ingenuously rehearsed the history of the 
 case to the maimed boy, not even omitting the 
 tantalizing part Captolia had played in the affair. 
 When he had concluded — with the talk between 
 his mother and himself, the evening before — 
 Harry, with some effort drew himself up in the 
 great chair, saying: 
 
 '' Joe, it seems to me as if you had been 
 holding a looking-glass up before me, and in it I 
 had seen a thick, devouring top on myself, with 
 the same -bad trait on the outside, that covers 
 yours. I can see that selfishness hugs me with 
 the grip of a bear. Many a time, just because 
 I have but one hand, I have curled myself up in 
 
St) DIGGING TBE TOP OFF. 
 
 this chair, and let my father and mother do things 
 for me, thstt I could easily have done for myself. 
 Many a time I fret atid render theitt uncomfor- 
 table, when I might make them happy, and be 
 so myself. I tell you ! Joe, if you need a rem- 
 edy ^ I do. I'm glad you've told me that about 
 the ' kit of tools,' for when a fellow has his im- 
 plements for work right at hatid, he 's the tndtfe 
 Hkely to do it." 
 
 Thus the twd youfig fellows talked on, the 
 game of ball entirely forgotten ; the book Joe 
 brought over, was iiot even opened ; but thefil' 
 hearts and lives were opened instead, honestly, 
 bravely opened. 
 
 A little after five o'clock, JOe stood on the 
 sidewalk in front of Mr. Artwell's, waiting to take 
 his horse, when he should drive up from busi- 
 ness. Hi^ evening duties performed, the boy 
 l^ent home^ whistling a joyous tune. 
 
 Mrs. Porter haprpened to be in the door-way 
 as he daine up, aiid gd,ve Jiiifl a quidk, Ihquirin^ 
 
DIGGING THE TOP OFF. 81 
 
 look. His whole aspect denoted satisfactiorL. 
 By this she felt sure he had come out of the 
 trial, true metal, for that day at least. 
 
 "It 's all right, is n't it, Joe?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes, mother, and I now believe you'd make 
 as good a doctor as you would a lawyer. You 
 know how to preach, too. And I 'm thankful 
 you know how to cook." 
 
 Mrs. Porter smiled; took the hint; kissed 
 her manly boy, and urged forward the supper. 
 
llllfllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllilllllllllllll^^ 
 
 i^iiiyiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiii^ 
 ^iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 II. 
 
 Bees, br giLKweRMs? 
 
 EE here! boys. Here comes Uncle 
 Breckenridge with one of those small 
 square frames, whose contents are warranted 
 to improve hot biscuit and light griddle- 
 J^ cakes. Now 's your time to study the amaz- 
 ing geometry of those little fellows, striped 
 like prison clothes, who have two wings on 
 both sides of them. If I could construct an 
 ariny of kites, every one of which would 
 stand the test of measurement, as do the cells of 
 bees, I should expect them to fly without wind." 
 
 52 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 53 
 
 " That 's a breezy remark," answered John 
 Morton, "but we all know that you will never 
 make one kite according to exact measurement, 
 so we shall never be gratified with the sight of a 
 whole fleet of them, propelled by perfect dimen- 
 sions, instead of air." 
 
 There was a deal of truth in John's rejoinder. 
 Accuracy in doing things was not one of Harry 
 Hall's strong points. All his friends knew that. 
 And his father had bestowed upon him the so- 
 briquet of "Short Cut," because, as he some- 
 times said : 
 
 "It seems born in the boy to seek short cuts 
 from the beginning to the end of every thing he 
 does." 
 
 Harry had no patience with either the details 
 or difficulties of labor or study. Such, some- 
 times, was his eagerness to know the outcome 
 of a work, that he would omit some important 
 step on which it depended. As a matter of 
 course, there were very few concerns of which 
 
54 BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 
 
 he had any thing like a thorough knowledge, con- 
 sequently he often found himself in want of the 
 information he had failed to gain ; and not sel- 
 dom were his companions compelled to help him 
 out of his dilemma, or to endure the mortifica- 
 tion of witnessing the exposure of his ignorance. 
 
 However, the youth possessed some admira- 
 ble traits. He loved peace, for one thing. A 
 wrangle between himself and his school-fellows 
 was as rare as snow in summer. He had a 
 pleasant way of parrying every keen thrust, and 
 in the present instance diverted all attention 
 from himself, by saying : 
 
 " John, the sight of such delicious honey 
 gives me an appetite as sharp as the sword of 
 an elephant hunter. Just notice, boys, when 
 uncle comes up, how creamy and lace-like that 
 comb is, on the outside. I wish uncle would be 
 magnanimous and make us a present of that case. 
 Let 's propose it. He 's not small about any 
 thing. If I ever get to be the owner of a hun- 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS f g§ 
 
 dred acres of land, I '11 set bee-hives over the 
 whole of it." 
 
 "Will you have bees in them?" asked Joha 
 who always quickly saw where the bars were 
 down. 
 
 '^ Come around and see." 
 
 Harry was one of a group of four boys who 
 were whiling away an hour of a pleasant Sep- 
 tember afternoon on the front door-step of Mr. 
 Breckenridge's house. John stood leaning against 
 the door-casing. Harry sat on the stone with 
 hands clasped about his knees, but straightened 
 up at sight of the honey. The others were lying 
 flat on their backs, looking up into the blue 
 sky. The genial sunlight poured down upon 
 them all. 
 
 Harry's companions were his near neighbors, 
 and were youths as bright and inquisitive as 
 they were different in character and appearance. 
 Each had his own way of getting on with the 
 little world in which he moved, and of storing 
 
56 BEESy OR SILKWORMS? 
 
 up knowledge for future use. They had grown 
 up together, and each had a habit of " coming to 
 Harry's aid" whenever he "got upset/' except 
 during recitations at school. There, latterly, by 
 tacit arrangement, they had left him to stand 
 alone, and with some apparent benefit to 
 the boy. 
 
 But Mr. Breckenridge having joined the 
 circle, John inquired : 
 
 " Mr. Breckenridge, what '11 you take for that 
 case of honey ?" 
 
 " Take ?" repeated the gentleman, making a 
 considerable pause before uttering the next word. 
 " I will take one hour's close attention from four 
 boys." 
 
 "No fault to find with that arrangement," 
 said the questioner, with the cool business-like 
 manner which young men of his age delight to 
 assume. 
 
 " Do n't know that we '11 all accede to that," 
 voluntered Stewart Chisholm. " It depends upon 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS^ 57 
 
 what we get in return. About how much will 
 the giving attention for one hour increase our 
 fortunes, Mr. Breckenridge ?" 
 
 " Very difl&cult to tell," answered their friend, 
 as he seated himself on the door-step, with two 
 boys on each side of him. 
 
 " Boys," he continued, reflectingly, " I 've 
 been thinking, all the way up to the house, how 
 much we are indebted for the enjoyment we 
 have in this world, in the lines of food and cloth- 
 ing, to two small insects." 
 
 " To two small insects !" repeated John, not 
 taking much time to think. 
 
 " Oh, one 's the honey bee, uncle. Now 
 what 's the other ?" asked Harry, taking his cus- 
 tomary "short cut." 
 
 "The silkworm," said "Uncle Will" briefly. 
 
 " Pity us, all the mulberry trees !" exclaimed 
 Stewart, as the wide field of silkworm use- 
 fulness opened before his mind, "Never have 
 I once thought what an important part that 
 
M BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 
 
 insect plays in the world. How can we figure 
 that out, sir ?" 
 
 "No doubt, Mr. Breckenridge, the silkworm 
 is a factor which should not be forgotten, when 
 tve speak on the subject of producers," solemnly 
 remarked the eldest boy of the group, whose 
 name the reader has not learned. But, as to in- 
 debtedness to the silkworm, it strikes me that 
 very few men have a heavy score to settle. 
 Women carry the great weight of obligation. A 
 man during his whole life, wears out less silk 
 than it takes to make one dress for a woman.'' 
 
 '' True," returned Mr. Breckenridge, " particu- 
 larly in America. Still, in some eastern countries 
 the men, especially of the wealthier classes, wear 
 rich garments of silk." 
 
 "By the way," added the former speaker, 
 dryly, " it occurs to me that silkworms rival 
 women in talent for yarn spinning." 
 
 " Let us be careful to cast no reflections upon 
 women, indiscriminately, my boy," said Uncle 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS^. 59 
 
 Will, rather gravely. " No true man will do 
 that. Think a moment. Four different women 
 are the mothers of you, boys. Not one of I hem 
 belongs to the class you refer to. My wife is 
 not such a woman. To look a little further, not 
 a woman of the neighborhood, busies herself 
 telling news, or gossip, from house to house. 
 In fact, nearly every woman you know, is 
 a prudent woman, not in the least given to 
 tattling." 
 
 To these remarks not one of the boys made 
 answer. And after a moment, Mr. Breckenridge 
 asked, smilingly : " How soon shall I have your 
 attention ?" 
 
 " This very instant, sir. Your congregation 
 is ready," answered Stewart, the other boys not 
 having recovered themselves after the above 
 gentle reproof. 
 
 "Well, then, how much do the wisest of you 
 know about bees and silkworms?" 
 
 " I believe I know that bees are bees, and 
 
60 BEES, OR SILKWORMS ? 
 
 that silkworms are silkworms," admitted John, 
 after a moment of silence, during which all tried 
 to think what they really did know. 
 
 "Humph! I can go ahead of that. I know 
 that bees make honey and that silkworms make 
 silk," said another. 
 
 "Very well, boys. Now, in which of these 
 classes of insects are you most interested ? We 
 have time to talk about one, only, this afternoon.' 
 
 " In the silkworms, of course," cried two or 
 three. 
 
 "For," added young Chrisholm, "every one 
 of us has seen bees and eaten honey, but not 
 one of us ever saw a silkworm." 
 
 " We enter the domain of the marvelous, in 
 insect life, the moment we begin to talk about 
 silkworms," stated Mr. Breckenridge. " The single 
 fact, that in the United States alone, are annually 
 consumed over four hundred million dollars' 
 worth of raw silk and costly silk fabrics, which 
 are the product of these short-lived creatures, is 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 61 
 
 itself wonderful. And every year, as the number 
 of our citizens, who can afford to wear such 
 goods, multiplies, the great aggregate increases. 
 No other insect in the world performs a work, at 
 all approaching that of the silkworm, in wonder 
 and magnitude, unless it be that tiny zoophyte, 
 the coral builder, which uprears entire groups of 
 islands in the sea ; or, possibly the industrious 
 worm, which overlays deeply, large districts of 
 the globe with soil. 
 
 " However, we are not to deal with the money 
 aspect of the silk subject this afternoon; but 
 rather with the marvelous Jife of the silk makers 
 them^selves ; with the manner in which the silk 
 is generated by the worm, and with the beautiful 
 act by which the insect closes its brief day on 
 earth. The first feature is the cold prose of the 
 subject. The latter topics are its inspiring 
 poetry." 
 
 As Mr. Breckenridge ceased speaking, to de- 
 termine what he should next say, John remarked : 
 
62 BEES, OR SILKWORMS ? 
 
 " We are all eager to learn the utmost we 
 can on this subject, sir, and hope you '11 take 
 time to tell us." 
 
 "And don't fail to tell us just how the 
 cocoon is spun, and about the strange awakening 
 of the chrysalis from its slumber," added Stewart. 
 
 " Those are fascinating parts of the story, 
 my young friend. Some other insects, however, 
 undergo the same awakening from sleep. And we, 
 ourselves, after our long slumber in death, shall 
 waken and rise from the grave, not with these 
 ^ vile bodies.' but with bodies ' fashioned like 
 Christ's glorious body,' if we have died in Him,' 
 said the man impressively. 
 
 " The most amazing featuie of the silkworm's 
 work," he continued, " is the transmuting, within 
 its own bod}^, and by an invisible process, the 
 fresh green leaves of certain varieties of mulberry 
 trees, into a substance, which, when spun from 
 their mouths, and subjected to the various oper- 
 ations of cleansing, doubling and twisting, is 
 
BEES, OR SILKWOBMSf 63 
 
 manufactured into silks, and satins, and velvets, 
 whose sheen and luster are the delight of the 
 world." 
 
 ^^But our talk shall begin with the egg 
 from which the insect springs, and shall proceed 
 through all the stnges until we come to its costly 
 product." 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Stewart, once more, ^* that 
 is beginning with the very alphabet of the busi- 
 ness — the sensible phin — a path to knowledge 
 that is well worn, but I like it." 
 
 " The moth of the silkworm," the instructor 
 went on, " deposits her eggs either on sheets of 
 paper, or on strips of thin cloth, prepared for the 
 purpose, by the silk-farmer. The eggs are ex- 
 ceedingly small, nearly round, flattened slightly, 
 like a turnip, and when first laid, are yellow." 
 
 " The moth is allowed ample room to move 
 about, so that no eggs may be laid upon others, 
 thereby injuring them, possibly, and preventing 
 the finest grade of cocoons. The insect deposits 
 
64 BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 
 
 her eggs in regular, circular order, the average 
 number laid by one moth being about three 
 hundred." 
 
 " This act performed, the mission of the moth 
 is ended. And since it does not eat, it dies ; 
 having provided for its own reproduction, three 
 hundred-fold, in the lives soon to follow." 
 
 "Amazing ! Uncle, your words take my A^ery 
 breath away," gasped Harry. 
 
 "An ounce of 'grain,' as the eggs are called, 
 
 by the silk-growers, if in prime condition, will 
 
 hatch thirty thousand active silkworms, and one 
 
 hundred and twenty-five healthy moths will lay 
 
 "^at least an ounce of grain." 
 
 Here one of the listeners threw himself back- 
 ward upon the hard stone and whistled a long 
 note of astonishment into the air, exclaiming at 
 the end of it : " Fellows, hear that ! One hun- 
 dred and twenty-five moths become the mothers 
 of thirty thousand worms ! Yes, and more than 
 that, Mr. Breckenridge " — here the boy raised 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 66 
 
 himself up quickly, saying: "If, as you have 
 just said, each moth averages about three hun- 
 dred eggs, they will produce 57,500 insects." 
 
 "Uncle Will" smiled and proceeded to say: 
 "Until the time arrives for hatching the eggs, 
 they are kept in a cool, dry place. 'In very 
 warm latitudes, ice-houses are sometimes used for 
 the purpose,' the life-germs being indestructible 
 by frost. From whatever place they are stored, 
 however, rats, mice, ants, flies, and spiders must 
 be rigidly excluded." 
 
 "How long does it take the eggs to hatch, 
 Mr. Breckenridge ?" 
 
 "From four to six days. Upon the approach 
 of the silk-producing season, the silk-farmer car- 
 ries his precious 'grain' into his cocoonery, if he 
 has one, and if not, into some warm room of his 
 home, where he maintains an even temperature 
 until the young worms appear. To insure the 
 highest success in his business, he should do this 
 until the insects have gained maturity, performed 
 
66 BEES, OR SILKWORMS ? 
 
 their beautiful operation of spinning, and fallen 
 asleep in their costly tomb." 
 
 Here the lover of insects stopped short for a 
 moment. 
 
 "Is that the end of the matter, sir? Where 
 do the moths themselves come from?" inquired 
 one youth, disappointed over the sudden burial 
 of so many interesting laborers, and his curiosity 
 in regard to their mysterious life and mission not 
 half satisfied. 
 
 " In from twelve to fifteen days after the silk- 
 worm's change to this chrysalis state," resumed 
 Mr. Breckenridge, "there is a living moth in the 
 cocoon, ready to make its exit into the world. 
 But it finds itself a close prisoner in its silken 
 inclosure, from which, apparently, there is no 
 opening. And curiously enough, the insect has 
 no mouth with which to eat its way out. This 
 fact reveals the reason why the moth never eats. 
 But escape the captive must, else, at the next 
 silk season, there will be three hundred less silk 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 67 
 
 makers in the world. And we find that the 
 Creator, mindful of the purpose for which he 
 made the moth, has provided the means. 
 
 "Near where the mouth of the prisoner 
 should be, there are two small ghmds, filled with 
 a liquid strongly alkaline. And at one end of the 
 cocoon are the fibers of the thread, held firmly 
 together by an adhesive substance. With the 
 contents of these glands the moth softens this 
 glutinous matter. Then, with a vigorous forward 
 and backward movement of the body, the lively 
 little being forces its way out, into light and 
 liberty, with wings all damp and wrinkled. 
 
 '- The moths usually make their appearance 
 about nine o'clock in the morning. And think 
 what an animated appearance must then be pre- 
 sented by the shelves on which are spread the 
 papers and strips of muslin to receive the grain. 
 Everywhere are tiny wings outstretched to dry. 
 Now, swiftly goes the time until between four 
 and five o'clock in the afternoon. Then the 
 
68 BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 
 
 female, being about seven hours old, is ready to 
 begin to lay. This act performed she dies, as 
 you already know, and the paper, or cloth, bear- 
 ing her eggs, is laid away in a cool, dry, safe 
 place until the hatching season/' 
 
 " How large is the moth, sir ?" 
 
 "About an inch in length and of a delicate 
 yellow color." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Breckenridge," said the boy with- 
 out a name, "please tell us how old the worms 
 are, when they begin to make their silk ? That 's 
 the sort of yarn spinning I respect. It 's useful ; 
 breaks nobody's heart; destroys nobody's char- 
 acter." Since his former allusion to spinning, 
 this youth had spoken not a word. He had 
 thought the more, however. 
 
 "Allow me to answer your question somewhat 
 indirectly," replied his friend politely. " On the 
 fourth, or fifth, day after they are hatched, the 
 young worms cease eating, an occupation in 
 which they have delighted, up to this time, and 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 69 
 
 enter upon their first moulting sleep. This is a 
 momentous period in silkworm life. The insect is 
 very- tender, and must be kept in unbroken quiet." 
 
 Here every boy drew closer to the speaker 
 and prepared to catch every word. 
 
 "Any sudden noise, as of heavy thunder, the 
 discharge of a gun, near, the ringing of a large 
 bell, the violent closing of a door, loud laughter, 
 and even the lighting of an explosive match, are 
 all said to be hurtful to them, and sometimes Altai." 
 
 "Earthquakes and the rumble of fire engines 
 must give them a tough experience," remarked 
 Stewart. "And how would they stand bands of 
 music, and the racket of Fourth-of-July cele- 
 brations ?" 
 
 "Don't interrupt, boy. Let Uncle Will go 
 on about the moulting," cried Harry, vigorously 
 thrusting his elbow into the other's side. 
 
 " The worms," proceeded Mr. Breckenridge, 
 not in the least put out by these sharp sallies 
 from the boys, " are then much in the condition 
 
70 BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 
 
 of helpless infants, and demand the gentlest care. 
 They pass through four of these crises before 
 performing their last beautiful act, and emerge 
 from each one with a ravenous appetite. After 
 the fourth sleep, especially, their hunger is in- 
 tense, and bountiful provision must now be made 
 to satisfy it. 
 
 " The greedy creatures eat night and day, 
 rapidly accumulating the substance of which the 
 cocoon is to be spun. During this final feast, 
 leaves, fresh from the mulberry trees, are conveyed 
 into the larger cocooneries by the wagon load, 
 and scattered about among the revelers. Imagine 
 them ! Thousands of worms ! a bill of fare of 
 but one dish! and every worm intent upon se- 
 curing the very utmost of that. See them ! A great 
 army of little alchemists, transmuting, by their 
 invisible chemistry, the simple green leaves, into 
 a product totally different, but very valuable, and 
 very beautiful ! 
 " '" The four moulting seasons, if all the condi- 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 71 
 
 tions are good, begin on about the fifth, eighth, 
 thirteenth, and twenty -fourth days. The last, or 
 fifth stage of their life embraces, usually, ten 
 days, making the whole period of existence about 
 thirty-two days. During these ten days the 
 'silk matter' is stored away, the appetite of the 
 larva wanes, and lastly spinning begins." 
 
 Here Mr. Breckenridge waited a moment or 
 two, and the boys improved the opportunity by 
 making such remarks as were suggested by the 
 facts brought out. 
 
 " So then," broke forth the nameless auditor, 
 " it is by stuffing the poor silkworms until they 
 die, that the world is furnished with its silks, and 
 satins, and velvets! Never after this, shall I see 
 a woman decked out in any of these fabrics, but 
 that I shall think how many innocent worms 
 have died, that she might — dress ! It is a com- 
 fort to know that my clothes are made of linen, 
 and cotton, and wool. A sheep lives after you 
 have taken his fleece." 
 
72 BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! How long does does he live after 
 you have eaten him ?" cried John Hawkins, very 
 little moved by the other's sentiment. "The 
 thing, sir, which strikes me as most wonderful in 
 all this, is, that the worms appear to realize what 
 they are doing, and keep at it until they die. 
 Would a boy among us, stand up to duty like 
 thatr 
 
 Said another, promptly, " Mr. Breckenridge, 
 could you explain to us more particularly, how 
 these worms change mulberry leaves into silk?" 
 
 " From the hour the silkworm leaves the egg,'* 
 responded Mr. Breckenridge, '' mulberry leaves 
 are its chief article of food. The varieties said 
 to be best adapted to the purpose, are the white 
 and the Chinese mulberry. For newly hatched 
 worms the delicate young foliage of the latter 
 is much the better. Prior to the first moulting 
 sleep, however, the tender leaves of lettuce are 
 eflen substituted. 
 
 " The mulberry leaf is composed of a variety 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS i 73 
 
 of substances. Those most concerned in silk 
 making are the saccharine and the resinous prop- 
 perties. The latter produce the silk, while the 
 former nourish and build up the worm. 
 
 " The tireless little eater takes in the resinous 
 matter constantly, and by a peculiar, but inex- 
 plicable, internal process, refines, or changes it, 
 into a thick liquid substance, which it stores 
 away in little narrow receptacles, called silk 
 chambers, and which are arranged in spiral folds 
 on either side of the stomach. From these de- 
 positories, slender canals, or ducts, lead to the 
 mouth of the worm. Through these tubes the 
 transmuted resinous matter comes forth in 
 the form of silk, the two threads uniting in one, 
 just before entering the mouth, during the act 
 of spinning. 
 
 "By the time these silk chambers are full, 
 the silk maker has ceased to grow, and is about 
 three and one-half inches in length, its color 
 much resembling that of a young infant. 
 
74 BEES, OR SILKWORMS ? 
 
 " The worm, now in the final days of its life, 
 loses its appetite, and urged by its instinct to 
 spin, movee about uneasily, in search of a suita- 
 ble spot for the act to take place. Finally, 
 climbing upon the leafy twig, little sheaf of 
 straw, or slender frame, which the silk-farmer 
 hns provided, it there attaches itself inside an 
 airy envelope of floss silk, of its own manufacture. 
 Within this filmy covering, it now spins the 
 cocoon, formed of one continuous thread, about 
 twelve hundred feet in length. As we have 
 seen, this thread is formed of a brilliant filament 
 from each little canal. The worm builds the 
 cocoon as it spins, winding the thread in irregular 
 circles, by unequal movements of the head, bend- 
 ing the body up and down, and crossing the 
 thread to every part, thus forming the outer walls 
 of its tomb. This it lines, inside, with a silk, 
 still finer and softer, and lastly, it dresses the 
 whole with a smooth glutinous matter which 
 keeps out both air and water. It proposes to 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 75 
 
 slumber in comfort and security, you observe, 
 until its resurrection takes place." 
 
 "You were right, sir, in saying that one enters 
 a world of wonders, when he begins to study 
 about silkworms. Can you give us the size of 
 the cocoons ?" asked John. 
 
 " They vary in length, from an inch, to an 
 inch and a half, nnd in shape resemble a pigeon's 
 egg. 
 
 "And the color?" 
 
 " They are usually either white or light yel- 
 low. The white cocoons have an external wrap- 
 ping called ' the sheath.' In the yellow cocoons, 
 this sheath lies beneath what is termed ' the color 
 layer of the silk.' Deprived of this the thread 
 of the cocoon would be worthless, like that of 
 the spider." 
 
 "Please tell us why." 
 
 " It preserves the strength and brilliancy of 
 the fiber, and keeps the layers of thread in place, 
 and both these conditions are very important. 
 
76 BEES, OR SILKWORMS ? 
 
 Silk fiber, as compared with various other kinds 
 of fiber, is the strongest known ; and the thread 
 from cocoons containing male moths, is both finer 
 and firmer than that from the female cocoons. 
 And it is claimed that cocoons raised in France 
 exceed those of all other silk-growing countries 
 in the strength of their filament. It is quite 
 certain, however, that those produced in Califor- 
 nia rival them in this respect." 
 
 "How long does it take a silkworm to spin 
 a cocoon, uncle ?" 
 
 "From three to five days, Harry, and during 
 the time, a certain degree of temperature must 
 be preserved, for at a certain stage of cold, the 
 contents of the silk chambers congeal, and im- 
 perfect spinning is the result." 
 
 " I begin to think that you yourself are the 
 prince of spinners, Mr. Breckenridge. But seems 
 to me your subject will not be finished up tip- 
 top, unless you tell us how silk is prepared for 
 the loom," said the boy with no name, taking out 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS f 77 
 
 his silver watch to see if it were near supper 
 time. 
 
 " If there is time, I will go on," answered 
 that gentleman, a plensant smile playing over 
 his face, for he always found great delight in 
 these talks with the four boys. 
 
 " We have fifteen minutes. Can you 
 doit?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, and have time for interruptions." 
 
 " During the first three days after the spin- 
 ning of the cocoon, the larva, or worm, within it 
 is transformed into a chrysalis. This done, the 
 silk-farmer places such cocoons as are to be used 
 for producing ^ grain,' in boxes, and puts them 
 away in some secure spot. Those intended for 
 silk manufacture may, or may not, be at once 
 prepared for reeling. If circumstances are such 
 that the reeling can not take place within the 
 first nine or ten days, the chrysalis must be de- 
 stroyed. For soon it would be changed into a 
 moth, and in forcing its way out of the cocoon, 
 
78 BEES, OB SILKWORMS f 
 
 would break some of the beautiful threads, and 
 much diminish the value of the silk." 
 
 " The reeling must be no easy job, uncle. 
 Bring in the way it is done, if you can." 
 
 " Reeling the cocoons is indeed an important 
 part of the proceedings, and requires trained and 
 skillful operators. The work may be done either 
 by hand or by machinery, in a building called 'sl 
 filature.' A number of cocoons are first placed 
 in a vessel containing water heated nearly to 
 boiling point. This softens the gum which makes 
 the threads adhere, and loosens their ends. These 
 are now collected by means of a small broom, to 
 which they readily cling, and are formed into 
 two strands of several threads each. 
 
 " The strands are then twisted together 
 slightly, by the hands, then separated above the 
 twist, and run through a succession of little glass 
 eyelets, on their way to the reel. Before touch- 
 ing the reel, all are united in one thread. The 
 reel, set in motion, revolves steadily and rapidly, 
 
BEES, OR SILKWORMS? 79 
 
 with a to-and-fro, side movement, until the co- 
 coons are unwound, thus laying the threads in 
 spirals, so that they do not touch each other, 
 while fresh from the water. This peculiar lat- 
 eral motion, kept up through subsequent doub- 
 lings and twistings, produces the diagonal cross- 
 ing of the thread. At this first reeling, the 
 skeins are termed ' raw silk.' In China, for pur- 
 poses of exportation, it is made up into bundles 
 called ' books.' , 
 
 " I have now described to you silk reeling, 
 as done in a filature, with machinery driven by 
 steam. Now follow the various processes of 
 cleansing, after which the silk is again twisted, 
 once only, or, is doubled and twisted a second 
 time, according as it is intended for the warp or 
 filling of fabrics. Lastly, it is run off on small 
 reels ; removed, and tied in ' hanks,' when, with 
 the exception of dyeing, it is ready for the man- 
 ufacturer." 
 
 " Now, Mr. Breckenridge, we owe you a rousing 
 
80 BEES, OR SILKWORMS ? 
 
 vot of thanks, and we '11 give it standing ; but, 
 let me first remind you that you have omitted 
 one important item." 
 
 " What is that, John ?" 
 
 " The telling us how the chrysalis is destroyed 
 in the cocoon." 
 
 " That is important. Glad you mentioned it. 
 
 "" The chrysalis may be killed, either by 
 steam, or by artificial heat, applied in an oven, 
 both of which modes are much practiced in some 
 silk countries. They may also be destroyed, by 
 exposing them, during several hours, of three or 
 four days, to the direct rays of the sun. This, 
 undoubtedly, ' is the best method, because it 
 leaves, uninjured, all the fine qualities of the 
 silk. 
 
 " Now, boys, I think you have won the honey 
 and deserve your supper. I am much obliged 
 to you. Good-night." 
 
Plllllllllillllll 
 
 llllllllllllllllllllllllilllllllllld 
 
 III. 
 
 ^HE Business ©f biPE, 
 
 •' The business of life is to understand the Lord Christ. 
 Nothing else is to be called the business of life." 
 
 "In the half-lights between sleeping and waking, wafts 
 of melodies began to steal in upon him." 
 
 EDDIE, what is that I hear ? Is it sing- 
 ing ? or is it the wind ?" 
 
 "I hear nothing, father. There is no 
 wind. You must have been dreaming." 
 " No, Neddie, I have been awake some time, 
 and have been thinking of the home I had on a 
 
 81 
 
82 THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 
 
 mountain side when I was a boy, and of the strong 
 winds that sometimes blew around it. What 
 songs they sung around the windows, and about 
 the chimney top ! What tunes they played on 
 the tall cedar trees by the front door ! How they 
 drove the snow-flakes down the valley ! and the 
 rain ngainst my window panes! 
 
 "I wish I could have heard them, father. 
 Does n't it make a boy very strong to grow up on 
 a mountain side, where there is plenty of rock to 
 stand upon, and a chance to see miles away ? I 'm 
 sorry I never saw the place where you were born." 
 
 " Strange ! how memory bridges over the 
 years," continued the man, not an&wering the 
 boy's question. '^ From my childhood to this 
 night, seems no longer than the flash of the re- 
 volving light, down on the pier. The tones of 
 the wind among those cedars, sound as soft and 
 sweet as when I really listened to them forty 
 years ago. Oh, why ! when tempted, was I not 
 like that mountain, immovable?" 
 
THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 83 
 
 The lad was startled, but remained silent, not 
 knowing what to say. It was the first time he 
 had ever heard his father refer so particularly to 
 this home; or express regret over the past. 
 
 "Oh, if the innocence of those first fifteen 
 years could only amend the evil of all the rest/' 
 he added, half talking to himself and half list- 
 ening to the old tunes. 
 
 " Could it do that, papa? Does our goodness 
 accomplish any thing for us, in the way of offset- 
 ting our sins? Was n't Christ delivered for our 
 offenses ?" 
 
 "What do you mean, Neddie?" 
 
 " I fear I can 't explain it, papa ; but the 
 Bible says, 'There is none that doeth good, no, 
 not one. They are all gone out of the way.' 
 So it must be that what we call goodness in our- 
 selves, is n't goodness, in God's sight. I think if 
 we look only to ourselves, we 're in a pretty 
 bad case." 
 
 "If I could only be placed back there, with 
 
84 THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 
 
 the same opportunity to choose," said the man, 
 sadly. 
 
 " Would n't you make the same choice, papa, 
 with the same chance?" All this time Neddie 
 had stroked away, gently, the heavy brown hair 
 from the man's forehead. 
 
 " I 'm sure I 've heard mother say," he went 
 on, because his father seemed interested, "that 
 God made Christ, who never sinned, to be sin 
 for us ; and he made him also to be righteousness 
 unto us. So, if we let these things be so, because 
 they are God's arrangement for us, and take Christ 
 as our righteousness, and let our own goodness 
 go, we shall please God." 
 
 Perched against a high bluff, on the north 
 side of Ocean Street, was the house in which 
 dwelt this father and son. From the outside it 
 looked as if it were hung upon hooks, fastened 
 to the embankment. When the fierce north wind 
 blew it rocked like a cradle. Three or four half- 
 rotted steps led from the door to the sidewalk. 
 
THE BUSINESS OF LIFE, 85 
 
 There were two rooms in the building. And at 
 the time of which I am writing, three hours 
 after sunset, of a cold Sunday evening in Decem- 
 ber, 1876, Roger Mason and Neddie occupied 
 but one of them. 
 
 The day had been cloudy and windy. But 
 at this hour, every cloud had disappeared, and 
 the wind had died awjiy. The bright moonlight 
 fell through the cold air and photographed, dis- 
 tinctly, on the gray ground, the form of a stunted 
 maple, standing near the door. 
 
 On a rough frame, serving the purpose of a 
 bedstead, lay Roger Mason, his form bent up to 
 accommodate itself to the length of the couch. 
 His head rested on a dirty pillow. The compan- 
 ions of the bedstead, in the line of furniture, 
 were an old cooking stove, two chairs without 
 backs, a sort of lounge on which the son slept, 
 and a piece of wide board which answered for a 
 table. The only cheerful feature of the place was 
 a broad patch of moonlight that lay on the floor. 
 
86 THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 
 
 On one of the broken chairs, his feet braced 
 against the stove, now almost cold, sat the boy, 
 lonely, hungry, and thinking, when his father's 
 first question called him to the bedside. He was 
 thinking of his mother — a thing he had the habit 
 of doing early in the evening — who had gone to 
 the grave fully a year before. To her boy she 
 was as much a rare and beautiful thing, as are 
 pearls and diamonds. What she said, and what 
 she thought, were law to him. He knew she 
 lived out, in a furnace of trial, the principles she 
 taught him. Though in abject poverty, she was 
 yet a rich woman, because she was Christ's, 
 whose are all things. 
 
 The strokes of his child's hand had a 
 soothing effect upon the sick man, and soon he 
 dropped off into an uneasy slumber. Neddie 
 then turned to the window, and stood for some 
 time, looking at the buildings opposite, and 
 thinking how different must have been the views 
 from the windows of his grandfather's home. 
 
TEE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 87 
 
 Should A^ ever look down that lovely valley, or 
 climb that rugged mountain? 
 
 Just then a moan recalled his wandering 
 thoughts, and springing to the bedside, he asked : 
 " What can I do for you, papa ? Do you feel 
 better for your sleep ?" 
 
 ^^No, Neddie, no better. I shall never be 
 any better, my son, never," he repeated slowly, 
 as if trying to measure the duration of '^ never.*' 
 " I 'm like a ship clean gone to wreck. I can 't 
 be restored." 
 
 Neddie observed that his father had less 
 strength, apparently, than early in the day, and 
 that his face was extremely pale. Bending over 
 the bed he looked sharply at his features for a 
 moment. They were taking on an expression he 
 could not understand, and which alarmed him. 
 What should he do? Eager to hear his fathers 
 
 voice again, he said : 
 
 > 
 
 "Papa, I am sure it is not too late. You 
 know who can heal. It 's as easy for him to 
 
88 THE B USINE8S OF LIFE. 
 
 make the heart sound, as the body. It is when 
 we feel ourselves wrecked, that He takes hold to 
 save us. And, somehow, papa, He can 't do 
 much before that. I suppose the reason is, be- 
 cause it 's only the lost He came to save." 
 
 Slowly Roger Mason opened his eyes and 
 spoke again : " Son, the way begins to be clear. 
 I can almost do it; but one needs a little time 
 to think." 
 
 " No, papa, no. The lame man at the beau- 
 tiful gate did n't stop to think. The blind man^ 
 begging by the way-side, did n t stop to think ; 
 nor the man at Bethesda ; nor the man at Siloam. 
 They just did the things. We must cast away 
 our own righteousness, as we would an old coat 
 we are never going to put on again. Then, if 
 we will let him, Christ will clothe us with his 
 righteousness, and for His sake, not for ours^ 
 God calls that clothing ours. Papa, just ask him 
 to cover you." 
 
 "Neddie, where did you learn all that?" , 
 
THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 89 
 
 *^It is all in the Bible, father. Have you 
 forgotten ?" 
 
 Roger Mason raised his head from the pil- 
 low, leaned, weakly, on his arm, and said, sol- 
 emnly : 
 
 " Neddie, I am aware that it is the first bus- 
 iness of every man, to serve Christ. It should be 
 the business of his life-time. I give him the last 
 inch of my ill-spent, harmful life, as if it were a 
 favor to him! I consent to stand in his right- 
 eousness ! Shame forbids it. I can not insult 
 God with such a mockery of obedience." 
 
 Then, exhausted, he fell back upon his pil- 
 low, with a look which again troubled the boy, 
 and he hurriedly said : 
 
 " Father, it should be the first business, I 
 know, but I am sure there is a parable in the 
 Bible which teaches that men may enter God^s 
 service at the eleventh hour, and that at the end 
 of the day He gives the same wages to those 
 who have worked but one hour as to those who 
 
90 THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 
 
 began early in the morning. I suppose that 
 means that He gives eternal life to every one of 
 them. 
 
 " You see, papa, the last men had n't time to 
 do much work, but they believed the householder, 
 and obeyed him. That must have pleased him, 
 especially as they did n't know what they were 
 going to get. They took him at his word. Can 't 
 you do that?" 
 
 " I remember that parable, Neddie, now you 
 call it up," said Roger, painfully, " but that way 
 of putting it is too good to believe." 
 
 Neddie was distressed. But, gathering cour- 
 age, he continued : " Papa, I know that Christ 
 saves people who believe in Him, for he, himself, 
 said : ' God so loved the world that he gave his 
 only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on 
 him might not perish.' " 
 
 " I have n't wanted any of his help, Neddie, 
 my life long. I should feel mean and contempt- 
 ible should I accept it now." 
 
THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 91 
 
 '* But," persisted the boy, '' should we not 
 take him as would a little child? If I were 
 drowning and you had stretched out your hand 
 to save me, do you think I 'd lefuse to grasp it, 
 because I had been a disobedient son ? Which 
 would be the wiser, papa, to let you save me, or 
 to refuse your help and go down ? Papa, take 
 his hand." 
 
 " Dear boy," said Roger, rising again from 
 his pillow, and with more difficulty than before, 
 " I know this is God's truth, but I seem to have 
 no power to lay hold of it. Sin, followed year 
 after year, leaves a man completely undone, at 
 the end of life. For a moment I think I can 
 grasp these truths and keep them, but the next 
 moment they recede from me like an outgoing 
 tide." 
 
 Then lying down again, apparently very weak, 
 he closed his eyes. But soon opening them he 
 said, rousing all his energy : 
 
 " Neddie, the time is short, but one thing 
 
92 THE BUSINESS OF LIFE, 
 
 must be said, I beg of you never to drink liquor. 
 Fear it as you would a ferocious beast. Shun it 
 as you would a deadly poison. Say you will 
 forever let it alone. Promise, my boy." 
 
 " I promise, father, indeed I do. I will never 
 touch it. I could not drink. I hate the whole 
 business." 
 
 " May God help you to stick to that," ejacu- 
 lated the sick man as he fell back upon the 
 pillow, apparently much satisfied. 
 
 For a few moments the house was very still. 
 Even the street was unusually quiet. Neddie 
 was trying to decide what he should do, if the 
 doctor did not soon come. Presently Roger called 
 out, in a short, quick manner : 
 
 " What is that ? Neddie, I hear singing, a tune 
 I heard long ago. Listen ! Do n't you hear it ?" 
 
 Neddie waited a moment : '' No, father, you 
 must imagine it. You are tired and very weak. 
 Let me put more clothing over you. It's a 
 stinging cold night." 
 
THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 93 
 
 So saying, the boy pressed his own pillow 
 upon the stiffening feet, and above that spread 
 his father's faded coat; then drew the soiled 
 covers about the chilled face, adding cheerfully : 
 
 " There, dear papa, do n't try to talk more 
 now. We '11 talk in the morning." 
 
 Then turning to the stove he raised one of 
 the lids and looked in. *^Not a living coal," he 
 murmured, " and not a tea-cupful of oil in the lamp. 
 When will that doctor come? I must have a 
 little fire. I can not see father's face, if the oil 
 gives out." 
 
 PooV lad ! He did not know that the doctor 
 had made his last visit. Upon leaving the little 
 hut that morning, the really good man purposed 
 sending its needy inmates fuel and provisions, 
 but other patients, and the usual instfdlment of 
 incidental business, banished Roger Mason from 
 his mind until late in the night. 
 
 It was now nearly nine o'clock. The moments 
 seemed like hours to the desolate and burdened 
 
94 THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 
 
 boy. Finally resuming his seat by the stoA^e, 
 and the loneliness becoming intolerable, he burst 
 into tears, thus finding relief from the tension 
 under which he had passed the day. He had 
 spent ten minutes here, perhaps, when his father 
 called, in a tone the boy had not noticed before : 
 
 " Neddie, come here." 
 
 As he sprang to the bedside Roger took him 
 by the hand, saying : " My child, you 've been a 
 good boy. The trial wijl soon be over. But for 
 the cruel liquor traffic you would not now be left 
 alone in the world. You have been bitterly 
 wronged by it, and by your father. But the 
 fearful work is done. There will be an awful 
 account to be rendered by somebody. No power 
 in earth or heaven can avert that. What is that, 
 Neddie, about rendering to every man, according 
 to his works ?" 
 
 " I think there are a good many such passages 
 in the Bible, papa, but I remember this one : 
 
 '^ For the Son of Man shall come in the glory 
 
THE BUSINESS OF LIFE, 95 
 
 of his Father, with his angels, and then he shall 
 reward every man according to his works." 
 
 *^I wish I had always known that, Neddie. 
 I mean, I wish I had always thought about it. 
 What shall my reward be? That is a fearful 
 question. It seems to me that this thing I am 
 now trying to do, this trying to save you, is the 
 only right deed of my life. It must be, it must 
 be," he repeated slowly and impressively, " that 
 men who sell liquor do n't know that Christ said 
 that." 
 
 "Papa," interrupted Neddie, for the boy was 
 comforted even by the sound of his father's voice. 
 "I think of another verse, in the very last chapter 
 of the Book, where Christ says : 
 
 "Behold I come quickly, and my reward is 
 wM me to give every man according as his 
 work shall be." 
 
 " Oh, Neddie, if I could only repent. I feel 
 that I owe it to Him to repent, but my heart is 
 hard. Tou see," he continued, feebly, "I have 
 
96 THE BUSINESS OF LIFE, 
 
 resisted Him all my life. But now, my son, 
 promise me once more that you will never drink." 
 
 '' I will never drink, father. When mother 
 died, she committed me to the Lord's keeping. 
 I believe he will help me fulfill the promise." 
 
 At that moment, there fell upon the ears of 
 both unmistakable sounds of singing. 
 
 " There !" exclaimed Roger Mason, his 
 wretched face lighting up, so that Neddie saw 
 the change, even by the dim lamp-light, " that 
 is what I heard. Now the sounds are nearer. 
 See what they mean, my son." 
 
 Neddie opened the door a little way and list- 
 ened. In the cheerful strains which reached his 
 ear, he recognized the words: "0 Lamb of God, 
 I come, I come." In that quarter of the city, 
 the melody of Gospel hymns was an unaccus^ 
 tomed sound, but he understood its meaning, and 
 returning to the bedside, said : 
 
 "Father, I think some Christians are holding 
 a prayer-meeting at Mrs. Castle's." 
 
THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 97 
 
 "Go instantly, dear boy, and ask them to 
 come here. Bo n't wait. Have them come 
 quickly." 
 
 Darting from the door, bareheaded, Neddie 
 stood a moment later in the presence of ten or a 
 dozen persons, belonging to the neighborhood, 
 who had gathered at Mrs. Castle's to attend a 
 Bible reading. He found the door slightly open. 
 This accounted for the hearing the notes of the 
 last hymn distinctly, by his father and himself. 
 Aside from a young man who acted as leader of 
 the meeting, and his sister, both of whom were 
 faithful members of one of the up-town Churches, 
 the company was made up of men and women 
 familiar with every degree of want and almost 
 every phase of sin. 
 
 The services were about to close. The boy 
 stopped at the door an instant, glanced around, 
 then crossed the room to the young man, conduct- 
 ing the exercises, and asked, his voice and man- 
 ner giving evidence of haste and deep trouble : 
 
98 THE B USINESS OF LIFE, 
 
 "Will you please come to my father, sir? 
 He is very ill. He wants you." 
 
 "Yes, my boy. Where does he live?" 
 
 " In the second house down the street, on this 
 side." 
 
 " Wait ; we will go with you." 
 
 Then hastily bidding the small audience good- 
 night, John Sargent turned to his sister and said : 
 " Katie, you had better go with me. You may 
 be wanted." Then laying his arm over the shoul- 
 ders of the trembling boy, he directed, in a 
 kindly tone: 
 
 " Now take us to your home." 
 
 Upon entering the house, the strangers were 
 shocked by the coldness, darkness, and destitu- 
 tion of the place. But going directly to the bed- 
 side, Mr. Sargent inquired : " My dear sir, what 
 can I do for you? Mention any thing you want 
 done" 
 
 The sincere words and the tone of sympathy 
 went straight to that heart, so near its final 
 
THE BUSINESS OF LIFE, 99 
 
 beating. Slowly Roger opened his eyes and for 
 a moment searched the compassionate face bent 
 above them, then closed them again. Apparently 
 the sufferer was satisfied. Yet his lips tried to 
 utter words. Bending closer, the friend dis- 
 tinctly heard : 
 
 "My boy — be kind to him — keep him from 
 drinking." 
 
 '^ I will be kind to him, sir. I assure you I 
 will ; but do speak of yourself. What can I do 
 for 2/ou? I see you need fire, and you need a 
 physician. I will send for one.'' 
 
 There was no answer, from lips, or eyes. The 
 breath of Roger Mason, once a youth of the fair- 
 est promise, but now one ruined sheaf of the 
 horrible harvest of the liquor traffic, had returned 
 to God who gave it. 
 
 A little before midnight, John and Katie Sar- 
 gent stepped out of the miserable place, into the 
 keen, frosty air, and began climbing the bluff, by 
 a rough street leading toward their home in a 
 
100 THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. • 
 
 distant part of the city. By the young man's 
 side walked Neddie Mason. Few words were 
 spoken on the way. Several times, however, 
 Mr. Sargent laid his hand gently on the boy's 
 shoulder, as if to remind him that he had a friend 
 near. It was saying to him: "I am thinking 
 of you." 
 
 That was a warm, bright sitting-room into 
 which the shivering lad was introduced, at the 
 end of the walk; and that was a tempting 
 supper which Miss Sargent brought him on a 
 tray, as soon as she had laid aside her things. 
 An hour later, he was lying in a clean, warm 
 bed, both the past, with its sorrow and want, 
 and the present, with its desolation, utterly for- 
 gotten. 
 
 *'Was it a trustful death, do you think?" 
 asked Miss Sargent, of her brother, after she had 
 bidden Neddie good-night, in his room. 
 
 "Doubtful, Kate. The victims of strong 
 drink are not apt to die that way, and I judge 
 
THE BUSINESS OF LIFE, 101 
 
 from the circumstances, and from what the boy 
 says, that the man was extremely intemperate." 
 
 When Neddie Mason wakened, the next 
 morning, the bright Winter's sun was falling 
 through the blinds in golden bars, all over the 
 bed and on the wall at his side. He started up, 
 looked around the comfortable room, and asked 
 himself: '^ Where am I?" 
 
 Instantly, then, came the events of the past 
 night into his mind. The scenes closed with a 
 vision of his father lying cold and still in then- 
 miserable home. Then he felt that be had been 
 unkind and undutiful to leave him there, and 
 himself come away to such comfort and cheer. 
 Springing from the bed, he washed and dressed 
 quickly, and appeared in the sitting-room just as 
 the family were reading the Bible at morning 
 worship. 
 
 Miss Sargent gave him a Bible open at the 
 place, saying: "You needn't try to read aloud 
 this time." 
 
102 THE BUSINESS OF LIFE. 
 
 The words, " this time," caught his attention, 
 jmd he mentally asked, " Am I to be here again ?" 
 
 When the little service ended, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Sargent went to the bid, took him by the hand 
 kindly, and said : " We are glad you are here. 
 We shall care for you until you know what you 
 will do. So do not worry. After breakfast we 
 shall ride down into the city to see your father, 
 and you shall go with us." 
 
 Then John stepped up to him, laid his hand 
 on his shoulder, as he did during the midnight 
 walk, and started for the breakfast room, but 
 spoke not a word. It was but a little act, yet 
 more effective than a whole chapter on friend- 
 ship. Neddie felt the touch of the hand, in his 
 very heart. 
 
 We draw a curtain between the reader and 
 the bereaved boy, beside his dead father, in that 
 dreary hut, an hour and a half later. Such 
 times are sacred, and we must consider, with 
 delicate respect, the feelings of even a boy, under 
 
THE B USINESS OF LIFE. 103 
 
 such circumstances ; no more presuming to in- 
 trude, because the sufferer is but a child, than 
 we would were he a man. 
 
 Neddie's new friends arranged for holding 
 the last rites over Roger Mason, in the house 
 where he died, and brought their own pastor to 
 impress the lesson of the man's life and death 
 upon his neighbors, some of whom were facing 
 the same sure ruin. 
 
 When the ceremony was over, taking the 
 minister and the orphan boy in their own car- 
 riage, the family followed Roger to his rest, in 
 Myrtle Grove Cemetery, and then drove home,, 
 their thoughts busy with the future of the youth, 
 so suddenly made a part of their household. 
 
 It is seven years since that day. Neddie 
 Mason is now twenty-three. He has visited the 
 old house on the mountain side ; has slept in 
 the room against whose window panes the wind 
 sent the rain, and listened to its moaning among 
 the cedars. For himself, he has never forgotten 
 
104 THE B USINES8 OF LIFE. 
 
 that the chief business of life is to understand 
 the Lord Christ. And to-day his chosen work 
 in the world is, the leading other men to act 
 from that conviction. 
 
pillllllllHllllllllllllllll^^^^^^^^ 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiyiiuiiiiiy 
 
 IV. 
 
 H00PS AND Handles. 
 
 N-Y washtubs needing hoops and hand- 
 les ? Hoops and handles. H-o-o-p-s 
 and handles. W-a-s-h-tubs requiring hoops ?" 
 On a keen December morning in 1881, 
 J^L the writer sat in a carriage, before a drug- 
 store, in a thickly populated street in the 
 city of Cleveland, waiting for a friend, who 
 had called for a prescription which demanded 
 some minutes for its preparation, when sud- 
 denly the above questions and announcements 
 came ringing through the crisp, frosty air from 
 a short distance behind the vehicle. 
 
 105 
 
106 HOOPS AND HANDLES. 
 
 There have been times when you have heard, 
 it may have been on the street, or in a railway 
 car, or in some crowded drawing-room, a voice 
 of such fine and peculiar quality, as to make you 
 look around to catch a glimpse of its possessor 
 It seemed to you that such a voice must be ac- 
 companied by an attractive face and a pure char- 
 acter. Inherently it was different from the ma- 
 jority of voices. 
 
 I remember hearing a friend, who had spent 
 several years in the British Islands, say that on 
 one occasion, when attending a reception at which 
 a number of titled people were present, her at- 
 tention was called to a conversation going on 
 near her, by the singularly clear, rich voice of 
 one of the parties taking part in it. Forgetting 
 the proprieties of the place, for an instant, she 
 turned to glance at the speaker, who proved to be 
 a lady of charming address, and was earnestly en- 
 gaged in discussing the wrongs of the Irish na- 
 tion with a member ot Parliament. 
 
HOOPS AND HANDLES, 107 
 
 Some such voice it was, I imagine, whose 
 tones fell upon my ear, that stinging winter morn- 
 ing. Turning to the little oblong window in the 
 back curtain of the carrijige. I glanced Jilong both 
 sides of the street, expecting to see its owner, once 
 more calling out, in tones which could be heard 
 all through the neighborhood : 
 
 " Hoops and h-a-n-d-1-e- s for WAsntubs. Hoops. 
 Hoops and handles. A-n-y washtubs to be re- 
 paired ?" 
 
 But the vender of the articles was now^here 
 to be seen. He had darted down a narrow^ pas- 
 sage between tw^o houses just a moment before, 
 and was now bestowing a vigorous rap-rap on 
 the rear door of one of them. 
 
 For years I had been familiar with the street 
 proclamations which harry the peace of large 
 cities. I could easily distinguish the prolonged, 
 nasal cry of the unsavory fish-monger, when 
 several blocks distant ; and not less definitely 
 the different tones of the p-a-p-e-r r-a-g-s, the 
 
108 HOOPS AND HANDLES. 
 
 s-o-fi-p g-r-e-a-s-e, and the o-l-d i-r-o-n men whose 
 rasping clamor only the end of time will silence. 
 And for three months that fall, I had been elec- 
 trified every few days by the indescribable accents 
 of a little black-whiskered man, with small round 
 head and midnight eyes, who piped, in front of 
 my friend^s dwelling : '' S-w-e-e-t c-i-d-e-r and 
 s-o-u-r vin-e-gar." But hoops and handles for 
 wash tubs, were articles I had never, before, seen 
 retailed along the streets. 
 
 All the tubs across the way must have been 
 in sound condition, for in a short time the man 
 again appeared proclaiming in round, hearty tones : 
 
 " Hoops, and handles for washtubs ! Any 
 w-a-s-h-tubs to be repaired ? Hoops and handles !" 
 
 Then crossing the street, just behind the car- 
 riage, he stepped briskly up to the door of the drug- 
 store, opened it, looked in, and closed it again, 
 saying : " Oh ! only a drug-store." 
 
 Descending again to the pavement, he stood 
 an instant, as if determining where next to go. 
 
HOOP SAND HANDLES. 109 
 
 This gave me an opportunity to obtain a full view 
 of his face. 
 
 '' Is it possible !" I exclaimed mentally. 
 ^' What extraordtnai y change of fortune has put 
 James Marshall, at such employment ? Surely 
 it is he." 
 
 A strong impulse to speak to the vigorous- 
 looking, wide-awjike young man, was restrained 
 by the quick reflection, that under the circum- 
 stances, it might be the last thing he would wish 
 me to do. 
 
 I noticed that the attire of my old-time ac- 
 quaintance did not indicate poverty. He was 
 most comfortably clad for the season. This 
 rendered his occupation all the more a mystery. 
 Exercise had put a rich color into his cheeks. 
 His step was as light as a lad's. In one hand he 
 carried a bundle of iron hooping, cut in lengths 
 to fit washtubs of nil sizes. In the other was a 
 package of handles and a slender iron mallet for 
 driving the hoops. 
 
110 HOOPS AND HANDLES. 
 
 To an artist, the young man, as he then stood, 
 would have offered a splendid subject for a pic- 
 ture. To me the scene was inexplicable. Why 
 should a young man of twenty-seven, possibly, 
 a graduate of one of our first colleges, with every 
 pulse beating with health, as his appearance tes- 
 tified, be driven to so humble and precarious a 
 pursuit as the rejuvenation of old washtubs ? 
 That he was forced into it from necessity was 
 beyond a doubt. 
 
 I had little time to study him, for, setting out 
 again, he was the next moment ringing at a 
 neighboring door for work. But here the wash- 
 tubs were sound and he went on. Five or six 
 doors were visited with the same result, the 
 strong west wind bringing back to my ears the 
 resonant, cheerful proclamation : 
 
 '' Hoops and handles for washtubs ! Any 
 washtubs n-ee-d-i-ng r-e-p-a-i-r-s ? Hoops. Han- 
 dles." 
 
 Mrs. Clark now returned to her carriage, and 
 
HOOPS AND HANDLES. HI 
 
 soon we were driving rapidly toward her husband's 
 office. I made no mention of the incident I had 
 just witnessed, and in which I was still too 
 much absorbed to take any interest in the lively 
 woman's talk. 
 
 In a New England town, widely known for 
 its educational advantages, I had several years 
 before made the acquaintance of young Marshall. 
 From a fire-side among the New Hampshire hills, 
 he had come into a family, next door to us, to 
 board during his course of study. Here he 
 spent four years, impressing himself upon every 
 acquaintance as a person of rare worth and 
 promise. 
 
 He was one of that class of young men, of 
 whom there are too few in every community, 
 who demand little aid from others, because self- 
 reliant and self-helpful themselves, to the last 
 degree. Of his history, since his college days, 
 I had known little, except that a year or two 
 after he had secured his degree, he had invited 
 
112 HOOPS AND HANDLES. 
 
 a sensible and handsome young woman, to share 
 life and fortune with him, in the West. 
 
 Turning the^ circumstances over in my mind, 
 as we whirled along, and feeling confident that 
 not for mere pastime had the man taken up the 
 morning's occupation, in such a city, I resolved 
 to know more about him. Arrived at Mr. Clark's 
 office, I quietly consulted the city directory, but 
 in the considerable list of '^ Marshalls," appeared 
 nearly every first name except "James." Then 
 turning to Mr. Clark, who was my relative, I sjdd : 
 
 " Edward, eight or ten years ago I made the 
 acquaintance of an estimable and very capable 
 young man, during his college course in our town, 
 who afterwards married and fixed his residence 
 in your city. I wonder if you have any knowl- 
 edge of him." 
 : "What's his name?" 
 
 "James Marshall." 
 
 "Do I know him! It strikes me I do, and 
 he 's one of the finest fellows living. He is one 
 
HOOPS AND HANDLES. 113 
 
 of the few men who have an enthusiasm for 
 right-doing. Nothing daunts him. And nothing 
 suits him better thnn a sharp tussle with ill-luck. 
 It brings out the hero in him. His courage is 
 like the ocean — exhaustless." 
 
 I thought I had witnessed a display of his 
 courage that morning and readily believed Mr. 
 Clark. "Do you know where he is now, and 
 what he is doing?" I inquired. 
 
 " Really, I can *t tell, I am sorry to say. For 
 some time he held the position of paying teller 
 in the Fotirth National Bank, and was invaluable 
 in his position; but he was removed, I have been 
 told, not long ago, to make room for a relative 
 of the president. His wife, as I have since 
 learned, was alarmingly ill at the time, and for 
 weeks he was compelled to abandon all attempts 
 at business and give to her his constant personal 
 attention. And I may as well add that besides 
 being a brave fellow he is ' possessed and pos- 
 sessed ' of a tender spirit." 
 
114 HOOPS AND HANDLES. 
 
 " Qualities that can not be gotten for gold ; 
 neither shall silver be weighed for the price 
 thereof," quietly quoted Mrs. Clark. 
 
 ^^In what part of the city does this example 
 of true manliness live?" I asked, determined not 
 to relinquish my purpose. 
 
 " I 'm grieved to say, I do n t know. During 
 Marshall's term in the bank, the couple occupied 
 a genteel little housemen Durand Street, and were 
 patterns of economy and matrimonial content- 
 ment, as well as of ready helpfulness in various 
 deserving affairs. ' 
 
 " Since then X have rather lost sight of them. 
 The times have been hard, and I 've been com- 
 pelled to look sharply after my own matters, and 
 thus have rather lost sight of the good fellow. 
 But now you speak of him, I 'm moved to hunt 
 him up, if he is in the city." 
 
 Just then there shot through my mind cer- 
 tain words in a most precious book — '' Look not 
 every man on his own things, but every man 
 
. HOOPS AND HANDLES. 115 
 
 also on the things of others/' and I repeated 
 them aloud, saying pleasantly, 
 
 '' The quaint book contains something exactly 
 apropos for every time and circumstance of life, 
 you see." 
 
 " I '11 find Marshall if I can," he replied, 
 thoughtfully. "It is just possible he needs a 
 friend. I 'm glad you 've called him up." So 
 saying he turned to his duties and we drove 
 home. 
 
 The day our young New Englander was occu- 
 pied as a' pedestrian tinker of washtubs was one 
 of the severest of that long cold winter. Out of 
 doors there was comfort only in vigorous exer- 
 cise, or under thick warm wraps. High noon 
 had come, when, with face aglow, from three and 
 a half hours of rapid walking, he entered the 
 sunny little room where sat his young wife pil- 
 lowed in a large easy-chair, and greeted her 
 tenderly. 
 
 Twice since Mr. Clark knew them in their 
 
116 HOOPS AND HANDLES. 
 
 pretty home on Durand Street, had the husband 
 been compelled to remove his young wife to 
 cheaper, though not less comfortable lodgings. 
 The last change left them at No. 25 Norton 
 Street, a new avenue laid out in a suburb of the 
 city. The house, built in one of the pretty 
 styles now so common, was tastefully fitted up. 
 There were kind neighbors near, and all around 
 was pure air. 
 
 After his unremunerative tramp, James found 
 himself not a little weary in body, but in nowise 
 discouraged. Just when the clouds would part, 
 it WHS denied him to see. That the light would 
 finally break through them, he questioned not. 
 The months spent in fostering the life so dear to 
 him had been given to duty. He would not, 
 then, allow himself to be distressed as to the out- 
 come, of his present troubles. He firmly believed 
 that the man who fears God and departs from 
 evil, has nothing else to fear. So, taking his 
 wife's hand, he said in his usual bright manner : 
 
HOOPS AND HANDLES, 117 
 
 '' Carrie, you are a great success at pleasure- 
 giving. Ten minutes spent with you in this 
 little home, is ample reward for a whole day's 
 toil. It makes one joyful while at work. But 
 now let me take you out to dinner." 
 
 " Then you must tell me what success you 
 have had. You have said not a word about your 
 morning's experiment. I imagine you found few 
 disabled washtubs." 
 
 " Carrie, if I have spent the morning according 
 to the purpose of our Heavenly Father, I've had 
 success. No logic can get around that, even if 
 I have failed to make a ceftt of money. But let 
 us eat dinner. I can think of no pleasanter duty 
 just now, for a hungry man to perform." Her 
 husband well knew that should he recite some 
 of the incidents of the forenoon, he would rob 
 his wife of all appetite, " a species of theft," he 
 affirmed, "for which the statutes provide no 
 penalty." 
 
 At table both were cheerful and chatty not- 
 
118 HOOPS AND HANDLES. 
 
 withstanding the grim fact that the house con- 
 tained scarce food enough for another meal, frugal 
 even as the present one. 
 
 The simple repast over, James moved his wife 
 back into the brightest room in the house, where 
 he arranged every thing for her comfort, while he 
 should be absent for the remainder of the day. 
 
 As he turned to go out, Mrs. Marshall, put- 
 ting her hand in her husband's, entreated : "My 
 dear, tell me the result of your interview with 
 Mr. McClintock. Did he give you the least en- 
 couragement? Or was it one more door closed 
 just before you reached it? How prompt you 
 have been to embrace every opportunity which 
 offered 1 What is the prospect ?'* 
 
 "The prospect is certainly fair, Carrie, from 
 the fact that we are daily in the plans and 
 thought of God. We may rest upon his abso- 
 lute faithfulness, while from Mr. McClintock we 
 have nothing to hope. But remember that we 
 are not worse off than before I saw him." 
 
HOOPS AND HANDLES. 119 
 
 Looking into her husband's face, she said, 
 unable to keep back the tears : " To-morrow, 
 James, we shall be in absolute want." 
 
 ^'Then, that will be our time for testing His 
 faitMulness, Carrie. But our strait is not so 
 great as it might be. I have this morning earned 
 sufficient to shut the door against want for a 
 week. Here and there I found a dilapidated 
 washtub and left it as good as new. Now bear 
 in mind that I am young and very strong. You 
 shall never lack bread, if I can leave your bed- 
 side to work. When I can't do one thing, I will 
 do another. 
 
 ^'Now let me relate a chapter of history, 
 which shall take the edge off these keen feelings." 
 Then taking her hand between his strong palms, 
 he rehearsed, in a manner inimitably ludicrous, 
 his attempts at renewing the usefulness of aged 
 washtubs. 
 
 " How humiliating must have been that sort 
 of work !" said Carrie, as he concluded. 
 
120 , HOOPS AND HANDLES. 
 
 " No. Not so," replied the young man, very 
 decidedly. " My sensible mother — I wish she 
 were alive — taught me that every useful work 
 may be made a noble one by putting right mo- 
 tives into it. I became, for the day, a doctor 
 of washtubs that I might save a little woman 
 from need. That was a right thing to do. I 
 did my work as conscientiously as if I had been 
 dressing wounded human bodies, and I 'm not 
 ashamed of it. 
 
 " Besides, I learned some useful lessons this 
 morning. I never so fully realized how much 
 kind, true feeling there is in the hearts of the 
 humbler class of people. I really believe the 
 house-wives took me to be an . impecunious 
 nobleman, who had been reduced to such 
 labor by no fault of his own. Some of them 
 appeared really sorry their washtubs were 
 sound." 
 
 " Are you not a nobleman ? Is it your fault 
 that your total stock in trade is a few hoops and 
 
HOOPS AND HANDLES. 121 
 
 handles for washtubs ? Not a very satisfactory 
 fortune to be sure, but" — 
 
 "You are my fortune, Carrie, and happily 
 not yet lost. But life is an intensely real thing, 
 and without bread we can not live. So, wish 
 me good luck and 1 11 devote the afternoon to 
 the welfare of washtubs." 
 
 " Success to you, James. But I wish you 
 were not compelled to do it. Should you meet 
 any of your friends it would be very embar- 
 rassing." 
 
 " Not a bit, Carrie. There is cause for shame 
 only in dishonest doing. But aside from all such 
 considerations, I believe that God opens for me, 
 for to-day, this narrow door, every other being 
 shut, and that entering it I shall be blest. Now 
 good-bye. You will see me again about dark." 
 
 Months of wearying illness had robbed Carrie 
 Marshall's nerves of their strength, else she 
 could have faced these days of trial as heroically 
 as did her husband. And indeed, latterly she 
 
122 HOOPS AND HANDLES. 
 
 had spent some time each day reviewing studies 
 she had taught before her marriage, with the pur- 
 pose in view, of herself doing something toward 
 retrieving their circumstances. For why a wife 
 should not, when circumstances require it, assist 
 in gaining the mutual livelihood, was a problem 
 she had never been able to solve. 
 
 Her books had just been laid aside that cold 
 December afternoon, when her young servant ad- 
 mitted to the parlor, a lady personally unknown 
 to her, but who quickly informed her, that she 
 had known Mr. Marshall well, in his college 
 days, and being in the city for the Winter, had 
 taken great pleasure in finding him out. The 
 lady's manner was so sincere and kindly, that the 
 young wife soon found herself wholly at ease 
 with her. 
 
 The call passed into a long interview, and 
 before the visitor had departed, it was not only 
 toward dark, but she had learned the reason for 
 the exceptional labor in which she had seen 
 
HOOPS AND HANDLES. 123 
 
 James Marshall engaged that morning, though 
 she was careful not to give the wife a hint that 
 she had made the discovery. 
 
 In her mind as she left the little cottage and 
 sped through the bitter cold toward Mrs. Clark's, 
 there were grave doubts, if, in the unpromising 
 state of the wife's health, the closeness of the 
 times, and the dearth of situations, such as Mr. 
 Marshall deserved and could fill, the young- 
 couple could pass the Winter in a condition 
 above want. 
 
 At the same time, the spirit of self-helpful- 
 ness, so manifest in both, awakened her admira- 
 tion, and she determined to befriend them. Pos- 
 sibly the biting evening jiir promoted rapid 
 thinking as well as swift walking, for by the 
 time she had reached Edward CLirk's glowing 
 fireside, her little plan was laid. 
 
 A letter, received that morning from her only 
 brother, the head of a large commercial house in 
 D , on the Mississippi River, mentioned the 
 
124 HOOPS AND HANDLES, 
 
 death of a tiusted employee of the firm, who 
 was an esteemed friend of her own. "^ Where in 
 this world can I find another like him?" was the 
 question ending her brother's account of his loss. 
 
 "I can tell him/' said the woman to herself, 
 as she took up her pen that evening, for a reply. 
 
 Four days afterwards, there came from the 
 western bank of the Father of Waters, this tel- 
 egram : 
 
 • 
 
 '* Dear Mary: — I have sent for Marshall. Please make 
 his wife comfortable until she has strength to come where 
 the snows are deeper. Your Brother." 
 
 At that very hour, the young couple, a chap- 
 ter of whose lives I have here transcribed, were 
 seated in their neat home, bending over a dis- 
 patch worded in this wise : 
 
 "James F. Marshall: 
 
 ^'Dear Sir : — Can you accept, immediately, the position 
 of first cashier in our establishment? Salary, $2,000. A 
 merry Christmas to yourself and wife. L. D. King." 
 
HOOPS AND HANDLES. 125 
 
 It was the evening before Christmas. How 
 that husband and wife felt, with all they thought 
 and said, as they read this message, again and 
 again, I leave the reader to imagine. But one 
 who dropped in soon after, heard Mrs. Marshall 
 say, while making great effort to appear brave : 
 " Must you go to-morrow, James ?" 
 "No. We shall spend Christmas together. 
 But going will be the next step, after I have ar- 
 ranged for your comfort, until you have gained 
 strength for the journey. Now let us enjoy the 
 Christmas day." 
 
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiyiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiMiifiiiii^ 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 lilllllllllllllilllillllllllliiilllllllllllllllllillllllUlilllllllllllllllllllllllllll^ 
 
 ZBNAS PRICE; 
 
 GIVING SHINKS. 
 
 A 
 
 ^NE evening in June, 1886, the writer 
 was passing an hour or two at the 
 home of a very dear friend in S.-m Francisco. 
 There had occurred, but a few nights before, 
 a very destructive conflagrfition, known as 
 ^'the Brannan Street fire." By the terrible 
 calamity about eight hundred of the citizens 
 were rendered absolutely homeless. And 
 almost without exception, the sufferers be- 
 longed to the abjectly poor class. In relieving 
 
 126 
 
ZENAS PRICE. 127 
 
 their wants, and refitting new homes for them, 
 my friend had been untiring, from the first. 
 Naturally, as we sat together in the library; 
 after the six o'clock dinner, the conversation 
 turned upon the unfortunate event, and from 
 that, to the biting needs of the very poor in great 
 cities; and finally, to particular incidents con- 
 nected with this class in San Francisco, to and 
 fro among whom, Mrs. C had gone, a minis- 
 ter of blessing for many years. 
 
 These incidents recalled to her mind the he- 
 roic struggles of one Zenas Price, a brave-spirited 
 boot-black, whose life of gaunt want closed when 
 he was about sixteen years of age. The follow- 
 ing is the pathetic story she told, as nearly as I 
 am able to reproduce it. 
 
 In an obscure, tumble-down tenement of the 
 Barbary Coast — a locality in San Francisco, fa- 
 mous for the criminal character of its inhabit- 
 ants, and for the danger to life and property in 
 the precinct — hemmed in by the four dingy walls 
 
128 ZENAS PRICE. 
 
 of a little room, a young boy lay dying. He 
 was old, however, in disappointment and sorrow. 
 Utter poverty had been his portion from his 
 birth. But his was a nature in which hope and 
 aspiration awakened longings and strivings to 
 improve his condition. Yet all ended but in 
 premature despair. 
 
 I began to feel an interest in this boy some 
 three years ago. One day I was attending the 
 funeral of his little sister, Annie, herself a re- 
 markable little waif. I might tell you some- 
 thing about her before I go on with Zenas. 
 
 I well remember the morning when I first 
 found her, sitting alone on the curbstone, in a 
 narrow, dusky alley. She was scantily clothed, 
 and looked bereft and lonely. Every thing about 
 her seemed to say : 
 
 " This world is a sorry place for a little 
 thing like me." 
 
 A slight effort on my part secured her at- 
 tendance at one of our Golden Gate kindergar- 
 
ZENAS PRICE. 129 
 
 tens, then being conducted some ten blocks from 
 her home. Under its genial and softening in- 
 fluences, her poor, cramped life broke its bounds 
 and expanded wonderfully. The place, with its 
 lively music, its varied and beautiful exercises, 
 and its company of clean, busy children, seemed 
 to her like heaven. And after the first few days 
 nothing could keep her away. 
 
 In a short time we began to learn of the 
 happy effects of her school-life in her miserable 
 home — the only sunshine that ever broke into it. 
 She would hold her father at home evenings, by 
 teaching him the songs she learned, and by tak- 
 ing him through the exercises she practiced at 
 the garten, until the rough man, who had seldom 
 given a thought to his children, actually found 
 pleasure in the rigid drill of his infant teacher. 
 
 Annie remained in the school some time, a 
 year or two, I think, sometimes coming, faint 
 with hunger, because there was nothing in the 
 house to eat, but always coming. One Thursday 
 
130 ZENAS PRICE. 
 
 morning, on reaching the garten, she appeared to 
 be ill somewhat. The wind was cold and bleak. 
 The rain poured down in torrents. Her mother 
 had tried to persuade her to remain at home, 
 but so strong was her desire to be present, that 
 the mother finally carried her the entire ten blocks. 
 
 That proved to be Annie's last day in our 
 school. At the close of the, to her, delightful 
 tasks, she went home, and at the close of the 
 day said to her mother : 
 
 " Mamma, I cnn 't breathe any more." 
 
 Then throwing her tired little body on the 
 bed, she lingered a few hours and quietly passed 
 away. It was well she did. 
 
 That pale face w^as a stranger to the smiles 
 of childhood. That still heart had experienced 
 next to nothing of its joys and pleasures. But 
 as the shadows of this world will finally melt 
 into the glories of the life eternal, so the face of 
 the child lighted up with peace, as the end came. 
 She no more needed our care. 
 
ZENAS PRICE. 131 
 
 But what had little Annie done here ? What 
 service had she rendered ? Her tiny hands had 
 indeed accomplished little. But her sweet ways 
 and winsome words about heaven, of which she 
 often talked, led at least one of the family to 
 long to enter there. This was Zenas, our Spartan- 
 souled boot-black. 
 
 After the hearse and carriage had dri^^en away, 
 on the day she was carried forth for burial, Zenas 
 said to me, the only attendant at the funeral : 
 
 " Let the rest of 'em go to the buryin' groun'. 
 I '11 stay home an' tidy-up the place, an' have 
 something warm for the children to eat agin they 
 git back, for they haint eat scarcely a bite to-day." 
 
 So he kindled a fire in the rusty old stove, 
 and swept about with the stump of an' old broom, 
 striving to " tidy-up " the place. Meanwhile I 
 endeavored to tidy-up the spirit of the unselfish 
 boy, and kindle a little warmth and light in his 
 darkened soul. 
 
 *' Yes," he replied, in response to some words 
 
132 ZENAS PRICE. 
 
 of encouragement, '' I 'm goin' to do my level 
 best to git the folks out o'this awful poverty. 
 You see/' he added, turning toward me a look 
 of utter helplessness, " there 's such a poor show 
 for a fellow fixed like me. There's father, he's 
 a most blind. Mother, she's allers ailin', and 
 the youngsters is sickly, mostly. I tell ye, it's 
 a big load to carry, speshly when bizniz is dull. 
 Boot-blackin' in San Francisco ain't as good as 't 
 us't to be, when stocks was up. Me an' my 
 pardner rustle around mighty lively ; but do our 
 best we can't make much. So take it all to- 
 gether, it 's well on to discouragin ." 
 
 '^ I tell you, Zenas," I replied, as cheerily as 
 possible, " there is a Father in Heaven, who is 
 not blind. ' He has his eye upon those who do 
 their best, and often helps them in a way they 
 can not see. He says, in the Bible : ' Call upon 
 me in the time of trouble and I will answer thee.' 
 He is a true friend, Zenas, and delights to be 
 trusted." 
 
ZENAS PRICE. 133 
 
 " I was thinkin' about that, when little Annie 
 died, there on that heap o' rags, yesterday. Then 
 I prayed, all to myself, the best I know 'd how. 
 I don't know as 'twas the Lord, heard. Any- 
 how, I didn't feel as bad 's I did; kinder felt 
 lighter like. 
 
 " Git to meetin' ! Ye see, I can't git to no 
 sech place, cause Sunday's the best day for bizniz. 
 We git more shines on Sunday than all the rest 
 of the week put together. 
 
 "I take it that God, an' all them that's up 
 in Heaven, understands how glad we 'd be to git 
 off, like other folks, an' hear the singin' of the 
 nice hymns. But ye see we can 't. The folks 
 here, at home, can't starve for the sake o' prayin' 
 an' singin'. I reckon them all, that 'tends to 
 things up there, won't charge it agin me an' Joe, 
 if we do the best we can." 
 
 " No, not if w^e do the best we can, Zenas ; 
 but we must try to please God, and shun all evil. 
 Talk your troubles over with your Heavenly 
 
 10 
 
134 ZENAS PRICE. 
 
 Father, every day, with an honest heart, just as 
 you would if you could see Him. Try to serve 
 Him in every thing you do. That is doing your 
 best. God has promised to uphold such with 
 his hand. Meanwhile, my boy, I will see what 
 can be done toward getting you other employ- 
 ment. Keep up a brave heart. I believe affairs 
 will mend before long." 
 
 " Ye see," he replied, a little anxiously, " I 
 think giving shines is the best for me. I've bin 
 doin' that, well on to a long time, an' do n't know 
 any thing else. It 's honest work, if it is n't so 
 fine, and may be I could n't do what you 'd git 
 me so 's to please the folks. An' here's Joe, my 
 pardner, we 've bin together until w^e 're 'tached 
 to each other. It might be hard to sep'rate." 
 
 This led me to observe that the boy's " pard- 
 ner " had been present at the funeral, and had, 
 during all this conversation, been moving about, 
 doing whatever little thing he could to lighten 
 Zenas' burden; thus making himself a " pardner " 
 
ZENAS PRICE. 135 
 
 in the boy's sorrows, as well as in his work of 
 giving shines. 
 
 Indeed, out of sympathy for the bereaved 
 boy, Joe had put up his box and brushes, for 
 the day, and had paid no attention to business. 
 I was amazed at these displays of friendship, 
 courtesy, and fine feeling, on the part of these 
 children of dire poverty. Could the most refined 
 among us have done better ? 
 
 From that day, with a great purpose in his 
 heart, Zenas began to battle anew. For a year 
 he fought steadily and bravely, never letting a 
 shine escape him, but doing his level best to 
 meet the daily wants of a peculiarly helpless 
 family. The struggle was a terrible one, and as 
 hopeless as terrible. More and more as the boy 
 grew older, did he hunger, for even the better 
 things of this life. 
 
 He knew there was a different and a better 
 way of living, than that practiced in his own. 
 lowly home ; but the path to it seemed to him 
 
136 ZENAS PRICE, 
 
 very long and choked with difficulties. Heavier 
 each month, grew the task of providing for the 
 family. And soon life, as well as hope, began 
 to fade. The being always alert for business 
 wore upon him, not less than did the exposure, 
 in all kinds of weather. 
 
 The boy had hoped, especially since the 
 funeral, that his mother would, in time, make a 
 tidier housekeeper and a gentler woman. The 
 prospect for this appearing hopeless, he finally 
 left his home, and rented a little room in the 
 house of a poor, but orderly, Christian woman, 
 living in a narrow street, far down toward the 
 water front, and there took up his abode, for the 
 little time remaining. Here, indoors, when the 
 day's work was done, Zenas found the quiet he 
 craved. The place seemed a little foretaste of 
 the heaven, he now thought much about. At the 
 same time the boy continued his efforts for the 
 support of his parents. 
 
 But one day, toward the last of Summer, he 
 
ZENAS PRICE, 137 
 
 laid down his brushes and ceased *^ giving shines.'* 
 He had a brief illness, during which he talked 
 much, to the tender-hearted woman, who cared 
 for him, of little Annie, but never once expressed 
 a desire to get well. Just before he fell asleep, 
 looking up into her face, he said : 
 
 " I have never had any home." 
 
 Then, folding his hands across his breast, the 
 poor, storm-spent boy closed his eyes and— 
 died. His was a fine spirit, planted among all 
 that was low and depressing. He struggled to 
 keep himself above it, and to lift others out of it. 
 The latter he could not do. The former he did, 
 so far as he was able; but he died before the 
 work was done. 
 
 In the interval between poor Annie's depart- 
 ure, and his own funeral, I had quite lost sight 
 of Zenas, and but for a trifling circumstance, 
 might never have known of his death. One 
 morning my attention was called to a notice, in 
 one of the daily papers, of the funeral, at ten 
 
138 ZENA8 PRICE. 
 
 o'clock that day, of " Zenas Price, aged sixteen." 
 The services were to be hehi at No. 98 San Lo- 
 renzo Street. That is onr Zenas, I said, at once 
 deciding to attend the funeral. Then preparing 
 myself for the street I went out to find the place, 
 probably two miles distant. 
 
 Entering a street car I rode to the vicinity of 
 the post-office, where I encountered a dense 
 blockade of vehicles, which branched far out into 
 several streets. It being near the time, I left the 
 car and endeavored to thread my way through 
 the press of people on the sidewalk. It was a 
 difficult task, and I finally stopped short, turned 
 around, and, in casting my eyes over the mass of 
 wagons, teams, and men, in the hope of discov- 
 ering a means of escape, I saw drawn up by the 
 curbstone, half a block distant, a plain hearse and 
 one carriage, evidently waiting for the streets to 
 clear. Pushing through the crowd, I reached the 
 spot and inquired of the driver of the carriage 
 where he was going. 
 
ZENAS PRICE. 139 
 
 "To 98 San Lorenzo Street." 
 
 " I too am going there," I said, telling him 
 my name. " Take me in and get me there in 
 good time, and I will make it all right with the 
 owner of the carriage. I know him." 
 
 Arrived at the place, I found the dead lad 
 was indeed Annie's brother. There were present, 
 to shed a tear over his remains, only his own 
 family, the kind soul who had ministered to him 
 during his short illness, his faithful and sorrowful 
 " pardner," Joe, and myself. 
 
 The father, too bereaved for utterance, sat in 
 silence, not far from the body of his boy. But 
 the mother, with less refinement, loudly bewailed 
 their misfortune, saying : 
 
 "It's too bad. The whole support of the 
 family 's taken away. Zenas was a good boy. 
 If 't had only bin that one " — designating the next 
 eldest son — " 't would n't have mattered much. 
 He 's sickly like, an' can 't earn the bread he 
 eats, an' never will." 
 
140 ZENAS PRICE, 
 
 Thus did the unwise woman, hardened by 
 Death's taking her best, revenge herself by send- 
 ing a dart into the heart of her living son, thereby 
 inflicting a wound, the pain of which would last 
 as long as he lived. 
 
 There were offered for these wretched people, 
 a few words of earnest prayer, after which they 
 all gathered into the one carriage, and followed 
 the hearse through the noisy thoroughfares quite 
 unnoticed. Not one of all the busy throngs 
 dreamed what a heroic, determined spirit had 
 struggled in that coffined body. He fought to 
 .overcome disappointment and poverty. They 
 vanquished him instead. 
 
PIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIII 
 
 iilllllllllll 
 
 Illllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllilllllllllli^^ 
 
 IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS 
 
 VI. 
 
 6LINT0N PRATHEWS. 
 
 £N one of our large, Western cities, not 
 many miles from where I write, there 
 lives a boy, who manages to get more en- 
 joyment out of life in a week, than do most 
 J^ of his class in a month. 
 
 " How does he do it T 
 Simply by spending his time profitably. 
 He has, howeA'er, some unusual ways of ac- 
 complishing this. 
 " What are they ?" 
 The following is one of them, and may be 
 
 141 
 
 /^ 
 
142 CLINTON MA THEWS. 
 
 adopted by any youth who has the courage to 
 choose a good course and steadily pursue it. 
 
 Besides being a pupil in one of the city 
 schools, Clinton Mathews is obliged to perform a 
 certain amount of labor daily. Notwithstanding 
 this, he has, for several years, had the habit of 
 procuring from the public libraries, books which 
 treat of all kinds of birds and insects, a branch 
 of natural history for which he has cultivated a 
 great fondness. 
 
 Whenever the lad has an hour of leisure, he 
 puts such a book under his arm, and flees to 
 some field, orchard, or garden, not far away, 
 and there, with its help, learns to distinguish 
 many of our native birds, either by their songs, 
 their plumage, the structure of their nests, or the 
 number and color of their eggs. On other occa- 
 sions he studies the strange but very interesting 
 customs of the worms and other insects, with 
 which the earth teems almost everywhere. 
 
 Sometimes he confines a number of these 
 
CLINTON MATHEWS. 143 
 
 curious creatures, in boxes, at his home, for 
 several days together. This he does in order to 
 study their habits more leisurely. Frequently 
 he puts a variety of them in one box. Then 
 there is an opportunity for study. 
 
 Not many weeks ago, I paid a visit to his 
 mother, who is an old acquaintance. A morning 
 or two after my arrival, I heard a brisk knock at 
 the door of my room. I knew Clinton was the 
 visitor, and invited him in. The little fellow's 
 face always beams with animation, and his dark 
 eyes are wonderfully expressive. That morning 
 they fairly blazed with pleasure. Coming toward 
 me he said : 
 
 " Mrs. Wilbur, I have come to invite you to 
 step down to the woodshed and take a look at 
 my Vesper-Birds. But before you go, I should 
 like to have you listen, for a moment, to these 
 friends of mine." 
 
 Then, taking from under his arm, a box large 
 enough to hold a couple of pounds of candy, he 
 
144 CLINTON MATHEWS. 
 
 held it close to my ear. Such a whirring, hum- 
 ming, and buzzing, I never heard ! 
 
 " Look now !" he said. . 
 
 A piece of glass covered the top. Through 
 this I could see twenty, perhaps, different kinds 
 of insects moving about at a lively rate, and 
 filling the air with their music. Some were 
 wriggling up the sides of the box. Others were 
 crawling over, or under, their companions. Not 
 one was still. They were black, brown, drabbish- 
 gray, and variegated in color. 
 
 '^ Don't be alarmed," he said, answering the 
 question of my face. " They are very active, 
 but not in the least degree dangerous, or even 
 quarrelsome. I simply wanted to see how they 
 would act in such close quarters." 
 
 " Well, what is the result ?" I asked. 
 
 *' Barnum's Happy Family never behaved 
 better. Not one of them has had a wing torn 
 off, nor a leg broken. Not one has committed 
 murder, even in the second degree, and if I 
 
CLINTON MATHEWS. 145 
 
 understand their talk, they are getting lots of 
 fun out of my experiment. May I let them out 
 on your carpet a moment, Mrs. Wilbur ?" 
 
 '' Not unless you first let me out of the room. 
 I should make a sorry picture, standing on a 
 ohair." 
 
 Clinton laughed at the very thought, and 
 said : " Oh, I just wanted you to see what capers 
 they cut, when left to go their own ways. The 
 amusing part of it, is, that although so friendly 
 when boxed in, this way, the instant they are 
 set free, the most of them begin to run from the 
 others, in all directions." 
 
 " Well, I think I can imagine all that. Shall 
 I accept your invitation to see the Vesper-Birds T 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Wilbur, and you '11 say they are 
 fine little fellows. But, whew! didn't I have a 
 lively time catching them ! How I should like 
 to be able to cleave the air the way birds do! 
 What lands I 'd visit ! What wonders of rocks, 
 and mountains, and waters, I 'd see !" 
 
146 CLINTON MATHEWS. 
 
 " There 's a way to see all these things with- 
 out wings, my little friend. Keep at doing some 
 right thing for a few years, after you leave school. 
 Neither drink up, nor burn up, your money, and 
 the chances are, that you will some day see most 
 of the earth's grand sights ; for steam carries one 
 the world around, you know." 
 
 We were now down stairs and about to enter 
 a small apartment at one end of the coal-house, 
 where Clinton kept his " collection of curiosities," 
 as he called it. 
 
 He had really given the place somewhat the 
 appearance of a museum, and in arranging his 
 treasures had displayed no little originality. For 
 instance : on the wall, opposite the door, were 
 the words, "Walk in," spelled with glossy bugs 
 of different colors ; and on the wall at the right, 
 appeared the sentence, " Look at us," formed of 
 butterflies, striped, spotted, and bright yellow. 
 
 My first thought on looking around the room, 
 was, that Clinton had taken the lives of these 
 
CLINTON MATHEWS. 147 
 
 pretty creatures, simply for the purpose of carry- 
 ing out these rare conceits ; but upon careful 
 inspection, I found that each butterfly and each 
 bug, differed, in some respect, from all the others, 
 and had really served as an object-lesson for 
 him, in his hours of happy, devoted, study. But 
 turning, finally, to the birds fluttering in a cage 
 near, I asked : 
 
 " Pray, what sort of feathered folks are 
 Vesper-Birds, Clinton ?" 
 
 '' Oh, sparrows, Mrs. Wilbur. You see there 
 are several kinds of sparrows native to this 
 country." 
 
 ''Do they singT 
 
 '' Yes, indeed. Did n't you hear them, during 
 their concert, a little after sunset, last evening ? 
 And again this morning, when it grew suddenly 
 dark, just before that shower ? One would sup- 
 pose Professor Vocalli, himself had trained some 
 of them. Why ! one of Theodore Thomas' open-air 
 concerts is nothing, to some these birds get up." 
 
148 CLINTON MATHEWS. 
 
 I saw that Clinton had attended some con- 
 certs, not given by sparrows, and therefore knew 
 what he was talking about; but desiring to learn 
 how thoroughly he had acquainted himself with 
 the habits of the Vesper-Bird, I asked again: 
 
 "Do these birds never sing when the sun 
 shines ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! A burst of sunshine after rain, 
 makes them fairly pour out their music. But 
 their time for grand singing is between sunset 
 and dark. Then they can 't be beat. First, one 
 pipes up. Then all in the neighborhood set in, 
 until, the first thing you know, you are listening 
 to a tiptop 'musicale,* as singing people say. 
 And not one of the star singers charges one hun- 
 dred dollars a night, Mrs. Wilbur." 
 
 "Decidedly generous in the birds, Clinton; 
 but tell me what part the Vesper-Birds take in 
 the sublime anthem at day-dawn." 
 
 " They are always on hand, and together with 
 the Hair-Bird, lead off in the morning. They 
 
CLINTON MATHEWS, 149 . 
 
 hold the audience until the robins get ready. 
 They never ^ have a sore throat;' are never 
 ' without their notes ;' are never hurt if other 
 birds receive more favors." Then turning to me 
 in a comical manner, the boy inquired : 
 
 " Mrs. Wilbur, do you ever get up at four 
 o'clock in the morning?" 
 
 " Never, if I can have my way about it. But 
 I heartily approve of early rising for young boys." 
 
 A smile lighted up his interesting face as he 
 answered: "Well, here's a fact for you. Some 
 things must be learned before breakfast, if 
 learned at all. Had you been here last Thursday 
 morning, and been willing to get up as early as I 
 did, you would have found out what the Vesper- 
 Birds are about at day-break. I was on hand 
 that morning. A little after four o'clock I crept 
 down stairs, very softly, so as not to wjiken 
 mother; slipped out the back door, and ran, like 
 a deserter, out to Mr. Good's pastuie, just to hear 
 
 these musicians sing. 
 
 11 
 
1 50 CLINTON MA THEWS. 
 
 '^You see: In that field there are a good 
 many clumps of bushes, and a nuuiber of tall 
 trees. These make chapels and cathedrals for 
 the birds to worship in. At least I like to imag- 
 ine so." 
 
 " That was making a very ' big effort/ as boys 
 say; were you paid for it?" 
 
 ^' Paid ! Mrs. Wilbur, I wouldn't have 
 missed that performance, if you had given me a 
 railroad and made me take the strikes with it. 
 Before it was over hnlf the warblers Mr. Flagg 
 writes about, were on tbe spot. There were 
 prima-donnas in nearly every tree- top. I 
 wanted a bushel basket full of bouquets to throw 
 at them. 
 
 "I attend concerts with my mother, some- 
 times, and hear men and women sing in a way 
 that makes my nerves tingle. But not one of 
 them is a match for these birds. It 's all very 
 well in the Opera House, though. But just set 
 a woman and a Vesper-Bird to wnrbling in a 
 
CLINTON MA THE WS. 151 
 
 tree-top, thirty or forty feet above the ground, 
 or even down among the grass, and which voice 
 do you think would win the applause ?" 
 
 '^ I think the feathered singers would have a 
 decided advantage in either case, Clinton. But 
 how is it that the songs of the birds delight you 
 so?- They are not uttered in words, and express 
 no sentiment." 
 
 Here the hoy's handsome eyes assumed one 
 of their peculiar expressions as he replied : 
 
 "Do the words convey so much more senti- 
 ment than the music, Mrs. Wilbur ? Often, at 
 the best concerts, the words of the songs are in 
 a foreign language, and I have no idea of their 
 meaning, so I just listen to the music. I do the 
 same thing down in the pasture. I like to lie 
 under the trees and fit my thoughts to the 
 notes of the birds. And I have done such a 
 thing as to leave the field with tears in my eyes ; 
 for the songsters often set me to thinking of the 
 One who made the birds and me." 
 
152 CLINTON MATHEWS. 
 
 "That is noblv said, Clinton. Now tell me 
 in what respect the Vesper-Bird differs from the 
 song-sparrow." 
 
 " They look as nearly alike, as twin brothers 
 do. The Vesper-Bird is distinguished by the 
 greater length and sweetness of its song, and by 
 these white feathers on the side of its tail.- A 
 fellow never puts his hands over his ears when 
 they tune up. I hope you '11 ^take a walk 
 through Lotus Avenue, some evening while you 
 are here. There they do their level best. 
 They '11 give you a serenade which no string- 
 band can equal. Why! I've known them to 
 get wild with joy, in the tops of those waving 
 elms." 
 
 "I'll take the walk, my boy, any time when 
 you will accompany me. Just now, however, let 
 me say a word in behalf of the song-sparrow. 
 He is really a singer of wonderful charm and 
 deserves higher rank than you give him." 
 
 " Oh, accord him the Gold Medal, if you like. 
 
CLINTON MATHEWS, 153 
 
 Mrs. Wilbur. I think he deserves it, every time 
 I hear him run through his seven tunes. You 
 can tell exactly how he feels in each one. In 
 the first he may be very sad; in the next terri- 
 bly spiteful; while in the third, he will get off 
 grand flourishes which make you feel you 'd give 
 all the world to be able to sing that way." 
 
 " I think I have read, somewhere, that the 
 Vesper-Bird and the song-sparrow come North 
 together, in the Spring. Is that true ?" 
 
 " They make their appearance about the same 
 time; both arriving in March, before a flower is 
 in bloom. Spring cheats them a little. In their 
 warm winter quarters they forget the cool tricks 
 she plays upon us up here." 
 
 "On what do all these birds live, prin- 
 cipally;?" 
 
 " On seeds, though they do n't turn their 
 backs on insects. The young sparrows, espe- 
 cially, are supplied with dainty worms every 
 day. Near towns and cities, and on farms, also, 
 
154 CLINTON MATHEWS. 
 
 the soil abounds with insects. There are not so 
 many in the woods." 
 
 " This fact, then, accounts for the multitude 
 of fine singing birds found in such localities, and 
 for the few usually seen in the silent forest." 
 
 '' Yes, you see, working the soil causes many 
 kinds of birds and bugs to multiply rapidly ; and 
 being the natural food of many classes of birds, 
 wherever they are plentiful the songsters con- 
 gregate. 
 
 "You remember the large field west of Mr. 
 Williams' house, Mrs. Wilbur ? Well, he plowed 
 it last year, and now it fairly swarms with crea- 
 tmres which hop, fly, crawl, and wriggle. Every 
 day hundreds of sharp-eyed feathered people 
 banquet there, and do n't pay any dollar for 
 their dinner." 
 
 " I have long known that orchards and gar- 
 dens are the summer homes of numerous elegant 
 ringing birds, but have always supposed they 
 frequented such spots to get the fruits and seeds." 
 
CLINTON MATHEWS. 155 
 
 " Throw in the bugs and worms, Mrs. Wilbur, 
 and you '11 have their whole bill of fare." 
 
 By this time the intelligent boy must have 
 been aware that I knew almost nothing about 
 birds and their habits; yet nothing in his man- 
 ner indicated that he thought his knowledge ex- 
 ceeded mine. I therefore felt very comfortably, 
 and for a few moments longer, continued my ef- 
 forts to obtain information, saying: 
 
 '' I suppose these birds rear only one brood 
 each season ?" 
 
 ''That 's a slight mistake, Mrs. Wilbur. The 
 song-sparrow often brings up two, and sometimes 
 three, families, in one season. She begins laying 
 in April, and frequently, cool autumn weather 
 is upon her, before the last brood says, 'good- 
 bye' to the nest." 
 
 '^ Now please tell me the color of the Vesper- 
 Bird's egg. I have quite forgotten it, if I have 
 ever known." 
 
 " They are white, tinted with green, and 
 
156 CLINTON MATHEWS. 
 
 speckled with brown. If I find a nest of them, 
 some time when you are in the city, you shall 
 see them." 
 
 '^ I presume you are not in the habit of rob- 
 bing bird's nests ?" 
 
 " No, indeed. I never take one ^gg from a 
 nest, even for a good purpose, without feeling as 
 if I had kidnaped a child. Imagine how my 
 parents would feel, to come home some time, 
 and find me stole fi, with no possibility of recov- 
 ering me." 
 
 " Well, I hope I may have an opportunity to 
 see the Vesper-Bird's ^gg, without your commit- 
 ting that sort of larceny. And I hope, too, to be 
 as well informed, some day, as yourself, in re- 
 gard to our native sparrows. There are several 
 members of the family, I believe." 
 
 " Yes, three or four. I have read about 
 them, but do n't know them by sight. They are 
 all highly respectable birds, though." 
 
 " Seems to me the Vesper-Birds are rather 
 
CLINTON MATHEWS. 157 
 
 aspiring, to build their nests in the uppermost 
 branches of tall trees." 
 
 *'You have read the books upper side down, 
 Mrs. Wilbur. They take no stock in gales and 
 hurricanes. Not they! They rather choose 
 tufts of tall moss, or clumps of low bushes, in 
 quiet places as homes for their baby birds. Now, 
 if you please, I will set my insects free." 
 
 When this was done, we turned away from 
 the miniature museum and walked through the 
 garden among the flowers. Here I discovered 
 that the lad's knowledge of plants, quite equaled 
 his information respecting birds. But the greater 
 wonder was, how he managed to so pack the 
 facts away in his mind as to readily bring them 
 forth, when wanted. 
 
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 VII. 
 
 ^HE BURR( 
 
 V 
 
 MAT is he?" 
 
 As interesting an animal as any boy 
 ever saw, and homelier than the goat. Hun- 
 dreds of boys have heard and read of him 
 J^ under a less musical name. Many an old 
 family Bible contains a picture of him, and 
 he j&gures in all attempts at portraying the 
 Saviour's triumphal entry into Jerusalem. 
 But let me sketch him with a half-dozen 
 strokes of my pen. Here he is : With head 
 small, body short, legs short, feet tiny, and coat 
 
 158 
 
THE BURRO. 159 
 
 rough. In color he is white, bay, reddish-gray, or 
 dark-brown, jusfc as it happens. He is brave, 
 strong, patient, faithful, intelligent, shrewd, and 
 affectionate. He is sure-footed, capable of hard 
 service, and fitted for perilous mountain traveling. 
 
 Is there a boy living who possesses such a 
 list of excellent traits and qualifications ? What 
 other good characteristics could you ask in an 
 animal designed for use among men, unless they 
 be fleetness and beauty ? 
 
 "Alas! the droll little burro is endowed 
 with neither speed nor good looks. But he can 
 do that which a horse, however fleet or hand- 
 some, can not do — eat anything, from his master's 
 coat to a sack of flour. The creature wiU thrive, 
 it is said, upon food, on which, the ox, or horse 
 would starve. 
 
 But has the quaint, sober little burro no 
 vicious qualities ? Listen ! under favoring con- 
 ditions, some, it may be all, of them, are sly, art- 
 ful, and full of mischief. In other words, they 
 
160 TpE BURRO, 
 
 are not perfect, as are never their riders and 
 
 drivers. 
 * 
 
 In some sections of the country the burro is 
 quite unknown. Tou would find few, if any, of 
 them in Massachusetts or Maine. But in Arizona, 
 New Mexico, and most of the States west of the 
 Rocky Mountains they are daily to be seen. 
 And throughout those parts one hears no end 
 of humorous stories, about their cunning and 
 sagacity. 
 
 As I have before remarked, the burro is some- 
 times called by another name. That by which 
 he is known east of the Mississippi River I have 
 sometimes heard boys apply to a playmate. It 
 may have been done in either a flash of temper, 
 or a spirit of fun. In either case, however, the 
 playfellow received a fine compliment, unless, 
 indeed, like some burros, he was sly and disposed 
 to cheat. 
 
 But under all other circumstances, we advise 
 a boy to refrain from calling a companion ^'an 
 
TEE BURRO. 161 
 
 ass," unless he reall}^ desires to ascribe to him 
 noble qualities. And much less let him bestow 
 the name upon a boy, dull of understanding, for 
 our brute friend is any thing but a stupid animal, 
 and the term would therefore be utterly mis- 
 applied. 
 
 The burro plays an important part in affairs, 
 in mountainous Arizona and New Mexico. One 
 morning while spending a few days in that queer 
 old Spanish town, Tucson, on the line of the 
 Southern Pacific Railway, in Arizona, I stepped 
 hurriedly into the street, on my way to the post- 
 office. I had barely touched the graveled side- 
 walk when I was brought to a sudden stand-still, 
 by the sight of five grizzly burros trudging 
 by, heavily ladened with ^^mesquite wood," a 
 timber much used for fuel, throughout all that 
 region. 
 
 The wood, cut in lengths of three feet, 
 and piled several layers high, was bound upon 
 the back and sides of each meek-looking animal, 
 
162 THE BURRO. 
 
 with strong ropes. It was the first time I had 
 ever seen such a sight. What grotesque-looking 
 figures they were ! How unlike wagons loaded 
 with wood ! Immensely large in the middle, they 
 suddenly disappeared at both ends. 
 
 Though in great haste, I stood watching 
 them, until, turning a corner, they vanished from 
 view, my respect for them increasing with every 
 step they took. They were doing a useful work ; 
 in a homely way helping on the necessary affairs 
 of the world. A gentleman told me the little 
 fellows had brought the wood from the Santa 
 Catalina mountains, twelve miles distant, and that 
 a large proportion of the fuel burned in Tucson 
 and other towns of the Territory, is transported 
 from the encircling mountain ranges, on the 
 backs of these hardy little cieatures. Each btirro 
 carries fibout one-third of a cord. 
 
 Arizona is a wonderful part of the United 
 States. It is made up of dreary deserts, fertile 
 valleys, broad table-lands, or mesas, and noble 
 
THE BURRO. 168 
 
 mountain chains. These mountains teem with 
 minerals of inestimable value. 
 
 Scattered over the Territory are men from all 
 parts of the United States, and from every land 
 on the globe, busy digging for gold, for silver, 
 copper, and other precious substances. 
 
 The trying to discover these minerals, is 
 called "" prospecting " for them. In this part of 
 the mining pursuit, the intrepid burro acts a 
 leading part. He not only carries — frequently 
 for long distances — the prospector's outfit, of 
 bed, tent, tools, clothing and provisions, but he 
 transports also much of the ore from the mines 
 to the smelters within reach, or conveys it to the 
 railway stations, whence cars take it to smelters 
 more remote. 
 
 When a prospector is about to set out on a 
 trip to hunt for gold, or silver, with a burro for 
 his assistant, and perhaps his only companion, he 
 brings the animal to the door, places a pack-sad- 
 dle upon his back and upon that piles his luggage. 
 
164 TSE BURRO. 
 
 Then off go the two, to encounter they know 
 not what, of hardship and peril. But whatever 
 of good, or ill, happens, they will share together. 
 If they have previously made such journeys in 
 company, they understand each other, as thor- 
 oughly as do an intelligent horse and his master. 
 
 If, however, they are uniting their fortunes 
 for the first time, each will quietly study the 
 other until he is sure of what material he is 
 made. Not unlikely the four-legged prospector 
 will " make up his mind," sooner than will the 
 man, for the innocent-looking quadruped seems 
 to possess wonderful tact for reading the disposi- 
 tion of people, while on the other hand, it is a 
 question if a man can be found, who so thor- 
 oughly understands burro nature, that he may 
 not for a time be deceived, by a wily specimen 
 of the race. 
 
 Should they prove to be congenial, and should 
 their rambles together continue some time, quite 
 likely there will spring up between them, an 
 
THE BURRO. 165 
 
 attachment, which, though unromantic, is cred- 
 itable to both. 
 
 Not long ngo I heard an experienced pros- 
 pector relate, that while searching for silver in 
 some lonely mountains, months previously, night 
 overtook him, far from human abode. 
 
 Undaunted by the circumstances, he spread 
 his bed on a dry, narrow plateau, and laid him- 
 self down to sleep, leaving his burro untethered 
 to crop gniss as he might be able. The loyal 
 creature not only remained close at hand all 
 night, but came occasionally and rubbed his nose 
 over his master's face, as if to assure him that 
 he had a friend near. 
 
 Under such conditions the miner seldom teth- 
 ers his burro, unless he is a thief of a verv 
 shrewd sort. A plundering burro usually dis- 
 plays plenty of sagacity. His fiist aim, when 
 purposing to appropriate something that does 
 not belong to him, is, to divert all suspicion fiom 
 himself, until his master "puts faith in him." 
 
 12 
 
166 THE BURRO. 
 
 He accomplishes this by assuming an air of inno- 
 cence and indifference, and by leisurely walking 
 about, as though no thought of mischief were 
 brewing in his diminutive head. And then, the 
 moment an auspicious opportunity arrives, he 
 coolly " walks into " ant/ thing in the line of pro- 
 visions, which his owner has imprudently left in 
 his way. 
 
 '^What happens then?" 
 
 Very piobably, a strong rope and a sturdy 
 tree, some rods from camp, prevent all subse- 
 quent displays of morals so depraved. 
 
 Occasionally one meets with a burro afflicted 
 with a roving disposition, as are some boys. He 
 may not pine to go to sea, nor hunger for the 
 sights of a great city; but he would like to 
 know if the twigs are not more tender, and the 
 grass sweeter, beyond his master's claim; or if 
 neighboring burros do not fare better than he. 
 And forthwith, to test these points, he runs away. 
 
 "What is the outcome of such folly?" 
 
THE BURRO. 167 
 
 Thereafter his partner in the mining business 
 "hobbles" him — ties his feet together. 
 
 A gentleman long fji miliar with the charac- 
 teristics of the burro, says he never knew one to 
 stumble, even when traversing the most danger- 
 ous mountain paths. Contrarily he had seen 
 them stop at a suspected point, carefully scan 
 the way before them, and then proceed with 
 great caution. 
 
 Not long ago, a burro, heavily loaded, was 
 making his way along a perilous trail, when 
 suddenly he halted, pushed the ground in front 
 of him, vigorously, with his little foot, as if to 
 ascertain if it would bear him and his burden, 
 and having satisfied himself as to that, was seen 
 to proceed on his way. 
 
 The following is a still more remarkable in- 
 stance of burro reasoning. It was related to the 
 writer by a relative, a bright woman living near 
 Los Angeles, in California, who rode one of the 
 most spirited of these animals across the Isthmus 
 
168 THE BURRO. 
 
 of Panama during the gold excitement in Cali- 
 fornia, the trip being made in 1850, or '51. The 
 little fellow was reliable, intelligent, and full of 
 grit. His possessing these qualities, rendered 
 him valuable as a leader for trains just starting 
 for the Western coast. Nothing could prevent 
 his going forward. 
 
 Mounted upon him, and at the head of a long 
 caravan, the lady proceeded on the ever-to-be- 
 remembered road, until she approached a swift 
 mountain stream, across which there was a bridge 
 of slender poles. The burro did not like the 
 looks of the bridge. 
 
 Halting, he surveyed the structure thor- 
 oughly; then, turning to one side, he went to 
 the brink of the stream and calculated the 
 chances of crossing without thanks to the poles. 
 The prospect was not very assuring. So, re- 
 tracing his steps, he marched to the edge of the 
 bank on the other side, and scanned the scene, 
 but with no fairer promise of success. Then 
 
THE BURRO. 169 
 
 returning to the front of the bridge, he made a 
 sudden spring and landed on the opposite bank' 
 without touching the work, and before his rider 
 had the slightest hint of his intention. 
 
 " What became of the lady ?" I hear the 
 reader ask. 
 
 She found herself thrown completely out of 
 her saddle, and seated upon the neck of the 
 burro, who, very obligingly, did not move until 
 she was ready for progress. 
 
 One sunny winter morning I happened to 
 be returning from a walk in the outskirts of 
 Tucson, when there crossed my path, a lad of 
 some fifteen years, mounted upon one of the red- 
 dish-gniy burros, so common in that vicinity. 
 He was riding without equipment of saddle, 
 bridle, or whip. Both rider and beast appeared 
 to be bound on some urgent errand, and to have 
 a perfect understanding as to how they would 
 do it. 
 
 The burro, trotting slowly along the glaring, 
 
170 THE BURRO, 
 
 white street, with his patient eyes looking straight 
 into distance, appeared ludicrously solemn and 
 woe-begone ; while the youth, bare-headed, hands 
 thrust into his pockets, and elbows at right 
 angles with his body, leaned forward *a little in his 
 seat, gazed into vacnncy, and forgot where he was. 
 
 I laughed outright. Boy and burro were of 
 exactly the same color — were one creature — 
 with but one thought. 
 
 As we were speeding over the sandy stretches 
 of New Mexico one day, numbers of short, stout 
 Indian women were seen riding upon similar 
 grizzly burros. They rode in a free-and-easy 
 fashion, which betokened a feeling of perfect 
 safety, and appeared delighted with their exer- 
 cise, in the brisk morning air. 
 
 Once or twice, as our train drew up at an 
 embryo town in the desert, these women trotted 
 alongside and offered us baskets of nuts for sale, 
 which they had gathered on the mountains. 
 Some of them were profusely decked out with 
 
THE BURRO, 171 
 
 ornaments and trinkets, and appeared greatly 
 pleased if we noticed them. 
 
 The native population of Old and New Mex- 
 ico adheres tenaciously to many of their ancient 
 customs. As did their twice great-grandfathers, 
 so do they. For instance : They scorn to thresh 
 grain with modern machinery, but tread it out 
 with animals, as did the farmers as far back as 
 Gideon's day. 
 
 At this business they set the nimble-footed 
 burro, who acquits himself quite as creditably, 
 at treading out breadstuffs, as at eating them. 
 
 The burro is considered notably safe as a 
 riding animal for women and children, and hence 
 is. much employed by the Mexicans for saddle 
 purposes. But the case is far different among 
 some of the proud Indian tribes of Arizona. 
 They disdain such humble means of locomotion. 
 They are the owners of fleet horses, and greatly 
 delight to mount them and dash awfiy at break- 
 neck speed over the hills and mesas. 
 
172 THE BURRO. 
 
 The Papago Indians, particularly, are said to 
 exult over their fleet coursers, and as the owners 
 of such property, they bear themselves as arro- 
 gantly as does the noble white man. And like 
 him, the Indian holds at an exorbitant figure, his 
 animals that are distinguished for speed. 
 
 The story is told, that n. gentleman engaged 
 in mining operations, in the mountains near Tuc- 
 son, received notice, only about an hour before 
 the time, that he was wanted on important busi- 
 ness, at a point twenty miles distant. 
 
 Calling immediately upon the chief of the 
 Papago tribe, then in the city, he inquired if he 
 had a horse which could make the distance in 
 that time. The chief, turning away with a 
 lordly air, soon led to the door a fine-looking ani- 
 mal. The man mounted him, and reached his 
 destination in about seventy minutes. On his 
 return he offered the chief five thousand dollars 
 for the horse, but he refused it. 
 
 In journeys where thirst has to be endured, 
 
THE BURRO. 173 
 
 the strong, or fleet horse is no match for the 
 hardy little burro. The latter has been known 
 to go, from five days to a week without water, 
 and when it was obtained, to take but a moder- 
 ate draught — a pailful, perhaps. 
 
 Although strikingly plain-looking, the burro 
 has a fine reputation for courage. In this respect 
 he excels that savage denizen of the mountains, 
 the cougar. It sometimes happens that the 
 burro is drawn into a fight with one of these 
 ferocious beasts. In such cases he always holds 
 the odds in his own favor to the end. An ad- 
 mirer of burro wisdom and prowess says : " He 
 never invites a quarrel with the cougar, but if 
 attacked, he never runs." 
 
 The burro's effective weapon in such battles, 
 is his teeth. With them he brings his assailant 
 to terms in short notice. 
 
 In illustration of this, an instance has been 
 mentioned, in which two juvenile burros were 
 compelled to measure lances with a vicious old 
 
174 THE BURRO, 
 
 cougar. Taking their stand, one on each side of 
 him, they used their teeth to such advantage, 
 that their assailant wisely concluded, that the 
 cougar — 
 
 " Who fights and runs away, 
 Will live to fight another day." 
 
 TH E END. 
 
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