awwaxsxKWKsci^ ^ ^ 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Mr, and Mrs. Earl Frown 
 
Tim ally walking up to the door ^ryda tapped gently.— Page 48. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 A STORY FOR GIRLS AND BOYS, 
 
 By MRS. E. M. FIELD. 
 
 WITH THIRTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS BY T. PYM. 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
EDUC.. 
 
 PSYCH. 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 
 
 Idle Hands ... = 1 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 A Princess <>...„ 18 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 Another Terrible Scrape 28 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 What Can I Do? 43 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Old Roger 53 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Uncle Jack's Story < 63 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Beppo o 80 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Rest of the Story 7 90 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 A Prince in Disguise 103 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Beppo's Friend 115 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Dreadfully Frightened 129 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Some Use for Moll 140 
 
 288 
 
/ 
 iy CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. PAOB 
 
 More About Beppo 152 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Beppo in Trouble 163 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Up a Tree. , 172 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Poor Moll... . . 182 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Where Thieves Break Through 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Friend, Go Up Higher „ 202 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 •* Pussy, Pussy 1 Come here, Puss.". . . . . = 10 
 
 Maurice Gray, with his queer little Scotch Terrier, Toby 28 
 
 Maurice fills the Syringe and sets to work „ 36 
 
 Timidly walking up to the door Bryda tapped gently 48 
 
 And where the water fell this Spring rose up 59 
 
 For a whole week there were Games » 74 
 
 The Fairy came flying over the Town » o . . . 78 
 
 " Little Boy," said Bryda shyly, ** where do you live?" 86 
 
 " Our Father," Bryda prayed, " let me help Beppo." . . . . 88 
 
 Tom, who had now become a Poet 93 
 
 Bryda after looking around for Beppo, seized the Cat 132 
 
 Bryda and Beppo amuse themselves walking about the Field 136 
 
 Only one word, too — " Speranza." 159 
 
 Bryda appeared to have thrown the Reading Book to the other 
 
 end of the room 160 
 
 Bryda called to the old woman, who laughed and shook her 
 fist 178 
 
 Bryda laughed, and then looked solemn o 203 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IDLE HANDS. 
 
 Bryda was very lonely! Not because she 
 was alone, for she was rather fond of wandering 
 off by herself, away from every one else, and 
 talking to herself and to the birds and flowers, 
 and still more to any little stream that came in 
 her way. But then to be alone because you 
 fancy it, and to be alone because there is no 
 one to play with, are two very different things, 
 and the last was Bryda's case. 
 
 ^^If I had even a kitten," she said aloud, 
 standing before the sundial in her grand- 
 mother's old-fashioned garden, and looking at 
 the shadow that did not seem to move at all. 
 Bryda had read of King Hezekiah, for whom 
 the shadow moved backward: she wished it 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 would move a little forward for her, and bring 
 tea time, after which meal she might go and sit 
 by the couch of her invalid cousin, Salome, 
 
 who had soft fingers that rested soothingly on 
 her rumpled hair, and a soft low voice that told 
 pleasant stories pleasantly, and good long ones, 
 too. 
 
 " K I had only a kitten !" 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Why, only yesterday, before Uncle Jack 
 went away and took all tke brightness of the 
 house with him, he said he thought there were 
 kittens in a loft over the stable, and he would 
 try and catch one for Bryda. But he had gone 
 off on a shooting expedition, and would not be 
 home for days and days. And he did not 
 know how lonely Bryda was. 
 
 You see her father and mother had gone 
 abroad a fortnight before this lonely day, and 
 had left her in charge of grandfather and grand- 
 mother. They were very kind, but they were 
 so old, and so fond of going to sleep in their 
 chairs with very grave books before them, 
 always open at the same place, that Bryda 
 thought they looked more like two wax figures 
 from Madame Tussaud's — put, one on either 
 side of the fire in winter and of the big window 
 in summer — ^than like real people. 
 
 They had lived so long, probably, that they 
 could not care much about anything. If you 
 told any striking piece of news to grandmother 
 she only said, *' Say it again, my dear. I'm a 
 stupid old woman. Sit down beside me, speak 
 
4 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 slowly, and always remember to wipe your 
 shoes on the mat." 
 
 If you had just rushed in full of the great 
 news that the robin's blue eggs in that dear 
 little nest by the garden door were gone, &nd 
 four gaping, featherless darlings were there in- 
 stead, you felt that it was much worth while to 
 try and make grandmother enter into the 
 delight of the surprise. And when you had 
 told her, she would only say, " Very nice, my 
 dear; very charming, Fm sure. Now run out 
 again, and don't get freckled." After which she 
 would smooth down her heavy watered-silk 
 gown, and doze over the big grave book again. 
 
 And grandfather was worse. He had long 
 w^hite hair, and a veiy long white beard, and 
 bushy white eyebrows ; so that there were only 
 two round spots on each cheek bone, and a very 
 narrow strip of forehead — unless you included 
 his nose — on which to kiss him, without bury- 
 ing your face in white hair dusted with snuff. 
 For grandfather took a great deal of snuff, and if 
 you — that is, if Bryda — went to talk to hini, 
 he would say, when he was awake enough to 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 5 
 
 listen, " Yes, yes, my dear, quite so, exactly so. 
 Give me a kiss, my dear ; give me a kiss. I 
 want a bite from those cherries on your 
 cheeks." 
 
 And then came the difficulty of kissing 
 grandfather (who did not like to be refused) 
 without kissing the white, snuff-scented beard, 
 which was only to be avoided by a sudden and 
 rapid peck at the two rosy circles on his cheeks, 
 or the little bits of forehead between the long 
 locks. 
 
 When Bryda's mother went away her last 
 words were: 
 
 '* Be good to the grannies, my darling, and 
 do all they tell you; and don't forget father 
 and mother." 
 
 Here the mother's voice trembled and broke, 
 and she got very quickly into the carriage. 
 
 Forget! Oh, no, Bryda could not forget 
 And she tried "to be good to the grannies" by 
 kissing grandfather whenever he wished, much 
 as she disliked the operation, and trying to re- 
 member all grandmother said about dry shoes, 
 and sitting in draughts, and eating slowly, and 
 
6 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 putting on pinafores, and various other little 
 matters we are all familiar with. 
 
 Uncle Jack was quite different. We shall 
 hear more of him. But perhaps the house was 
 a little too quiet for him ; he was so often 
 away. 
 
 The dullness did not matter to Cousin Salome. 
 She lay in bed all the morning, and was care- 
 fully wheeled into a little sunny sitting-room in 
 the afternoon ; and there, when the pain was 
 not too bad (for she had hurt her back, and 
 would never be well again), she was always 
 ready to welcome Bryda with that quiet smile 
 on her white, loving face, that was like moon- 
 light on a sea that sings low and sadly on a 
 summer night. 
 
 Uncle Jack was away, and Cousin Salome 
 worse, and the governess who was to come and 
 teach Bryda had not arrived ; and so, as we 
 have seen, Bryda was very lonely, and very 
 much in want of a kitten. She looked herself 
 rather like a kitten that has got wet, for a 
 kitten never looks so forlorn as she did unless 
 it is quite wet, and perhaps muddy too. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 7 
 
 Bat in two minutes after this bright idea had 
 struck her Bryda looked much like the same 
 kitten when it has been dried by a nice warm 
 fire, and fed on creamy milk, and has licked its 
 paws and washed its face, and is ready for the 
 next ball of wool that some one will be kind 
 enough to throw on the floor for it to play with. 
 
 Gathering some ripe summer pears, and 
 hastily stuffing them into the pockets of her 
 pinafore, Bryda hurried off to the stable. It 
 was locked, but the key was in the door; it 
 turned easily, and she found herself as she 
 entered rather near the heels of the fat old car- 
 riage-horses, Gog and Magog. But they would 
 not kick ; they were, or seemed, as old and 
 sleepy as their master and mistress. Gog in 
 particular would really rather be stung by a 
 horsefly than take any particidar trouble about 
 brushing it away. They w^ere not animals 
 suited to Bryda's taste, however much grand- 
 mother might appreciate their steady ways. 
 They were like those horses of whom the little 
 girl in the poem could find nothing more inter- 
 esting to tell than that 
 
S MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 " The tails of both hung clown behind. 
 Their shoes were on their feet." 
 
 And JohD,the coachman,was as f at,and old,8 
 lazy as they were. Altogether the family coauh, 
 when the dear old folks were in it, was quite a 
 curiosity. Tliey went for a short drive every 
 day, one day along one of the roads outside the 
 lodge gates, and the next day along the other, 
 turn about, and always to the same distance, 
 which Uncle Jack called "going to there-and- 
 back-again." Only on Sunday they went to 
 church, which was a very short way indeed, 
 only just outside the gates in fact, and on that 
 day they did not sleep in the carriage as they 
 did on the other six days. 
 
 But if Bryda was, as a treat, taken for a 
 drive, it really was a little dull. Both the 
 grannies went to sleep, and nodded so that poor 
 Bryda was really afraid their heads might come 
 off; and John the coachman looked as if he 
 were asleep, and Gog and Magog went along at 
 such a slow, solemn trot that they might well 
 be walking in their sleep, too. 
 
 So Bryda was not much afraid that either of 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 9 
 
 these grave old horses would take the trouble 
 to kick her. But she had not the same con- 
 jV'^ence in Uncle Jack's high-spirited hunter^ 
 tttddy, who lived in a big stall with a bar at 
 the end, called a loose box, in which he could 
 walk about; and now he put his handsome 
 head with the white star on the forehead over 
 this bar, and looked at Bryda as much as to 
 say, " What business have you here V 
 
 Next to Paddy's loose box there was a ladder, 
 which went up through a hole in the ceiling 
 into the loft where hay was kept, and where 
 Uncle Jack said kittens lived. 
 
 Carefully closing the stable door, Bryda, with 
 her heart certainly beating unusually fast, 
 climbed the ladder without stopping to think 
 what grandmother would say, and was soon up 
 in the loft — a delightful place, with a raftered 
 roof, and little windows with sprays of ivy 
 pushing their way in, as if to remind the scented 
 hay that it once grew outside and was called 
 green grass. 
 
 It was a nice place! and, oh, joy! from a 
 dark corner came the sound Bryda longed for, a 
 
10 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 kitten's " mew !" It was not the voice of an 
 elderly cat, but the j)laintive little "mew" of a 
 kitten, and Bryda, as she went toward the sound, 
 could see a pair of very round, bright eyes. 
 Carefully, not to frighten the little creature, she 
 went toward it ; but, alas ! kittens born in lofts 
 are apt to be wild and shy, and in spite of all 
 her coaxing, " Pussy, pussy ! Come here, puss !" 
 the round, bright eyes went further off, and 
 finally the kitten took refuge in the darkest cor- 
 ner of all. But Bryda was not going to be 
 beaten by a kitten. Treading carefully and 
 slowly, she came nearer; one step more and 
 she would reach the soft, furry thing. Another 
 moment, and it was in her arms ; and Bryda, 
 delighted, sat down on a heap of hay, and 
 hugged it, saying, " Now, kitty, let's pretend !" 
 What fun the games are that begin " Let's 
 pretend !" Why, one can be a king, a queen, a 
 judge, or a lord chancellor. We can grow up in 
 two minutes into happy people, who do no les- 
 sons, and can order exactly what they like for 
 dinner every day, and need not go to bed at the 
 dreadfully early hour we young folks must. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 11 
 
 Then, merely to eat a pear is so dull ! Grown 
 people have parties to amuse them at dinner, 
 the very dogs growl and play with their bones, 
 and the cats act a little play over every mouse 
 they catch. 
 
 So Bryda would be Queen Elizabeth seated 
 on a throne, dining off goose on that Michael- 
 mas day when news came of the defeat of the 
 great Spanish Armada. The kitten should be 
 the messenger, a pear should be the goose. 
 Bryda had just read this story in her English his- 
 tory. Hay makes a capital throne; Bryda piled 
 one up, and had just sat down with much dignity, 
 when 
 
 Have you ever heard people say, when some- 
 thing awkward happened, they would like to go 
 through the floor ? Poor Bryda did ! She sud- 
 denly tumbled right through the scattered hay 
 — right through the ceiling ! 
 
 She was not really hurt, only a little bruised, 
 after all ; for she had fallen into a sort of deep 
 cage with strong wooden bars, into which hay 
 was pushed down from the loft, and the bottom 
 of this cage was inside Paddy's loose box, close 
 
13 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 to the manger. So that the first thing Bryda 
 knew, when she recovered herself enough to 
 look round, was that Paddy was standing 
 looking at her, and seemed very much surprised, 
 as well he might be, for little girls were not 
 generally kept in the loft along with the hay, 
 or poked into his stall for him to make his 
 dinner off. 
 
 In fact, it is ver}^ likely that, if she had only 
 known it, the big, beautiful creature was much 
 more afraid of her than she of him. 
 
 Indeed, she was very much afraid, and grew 
 more and more frightened as the horse, finding 
 she did not move, came a few steps nearer, and 
 then began snuffing at ter. If she were to try 
 to climb into the loft again, which did not seem 
 very easy, he might — he probably would — bite 
 her long black legs, she thouglit. 
 
 It would not be very easy to climb into the 
 loft either; the cage was so very deep. Wliat 
 was the unfortunate child to do ? Paddy kept 
 on sniffing at her, the real reason being that lie 
 could smell the pears in her pinafore pocket. 
 Bryda could smell them too, and a bright idea 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 13 
 
 struck her. She remembered a fairy tale about a 
 princess who softened the hard heart of a lion by 
 feeding him with cake. Perhaps this nice juicy 
 fruit would have the same good effect on Paddy. 
 Perhaps, too, while he was eating it she might 
 escape. Cautiously she drew one out, and it 
 went into the horse's big mouth as a gooseberry 
 would have gone into her own, and was as quickly 
 swallowed. That was a bad plan ; he wanted 
 more at once. The next she threw on the 
 ground; and while Paddy stooped his sleek 
 curved neck to pick it up, she made a desperate 
 effort to escape. 
 
 In vain ! Hardly had she risen from her 
 cramped position and made a struggle to get 
 her hands up to the floor of the loft, when the 
 bright eyes and big mouth were back again, 
 and dreadfully near her legs ! 
 
 "Oh, don't! don't! Paddy!" cried Bryda. 
 ^'Here, you may eat all my pears, but really I 
 know I should not taste nice ; so please don't 
 bite me." 
 
 The remaining pears were soon gone; but 
 when they came to an end the difficulty still 
 
14 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 remained, and Paddy could not be brought to 
 see that he could have no more simply because 
 there loere no more. So he sniffed and sniffed, 
 poking his nose more and more between the 
 bars, and showing those dreadful teeth. He 
 only wanted pears ; but Bryda grew perfectly 
 wild with fright, and finally, when Paddy 
 actually touched her hand with a hot nose, she 
 could bear it no longer, but gave first one wild 
 shriek and then another, and another, till the 
 spirited horse, terrified by the noise, plunged 
 about in the loose box, adding still more to her 
 dismay ; and even Gog and Magog pricked up 
 their ears, and looked round, as if they would 
 say, " Please don't spoil our digestion by this 
 dreadful screaming. 
 
 To Bryda's joy, however, the stable door 
 opened, and old John came tottering slowly 
 in. 
 
 " Oh, John ! John ! save me ! Don't let me 
 be eaten up !" implored Bryda, as soon as she 
 saw him ; while Paddy became more composed, 
 and stopped prancing. 
 
 Old John scratched his liead * that was 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 15 
 
 natural. Then he very deliberately walked 
 toward the ladder, muttering : 
 
 "Well, I'm blessed if this 'ere ain't the 
 rummiest go as ever I see !" 
 
 Which, you will observe, was not the sort of 
 English one finds in the dictionaries ; but then 
 John was born before the days of school 
 boards. 
 
 " Oh, John ! make haste !" cried Bryda again. 
 
 But really it was a terribly long time before 
 John climbed the ladder, and gave his hands to 
 the frightened child, wio was soon safe on the 
 floor of the loft. 
 
 " Be you hurt, miss ?" asked old John, look- 
 ing at her as if she were a china figure that 
 might have lost an arm or a leg in the fall. 
 
 But Bryda was not hurt ; only she trembled 
 from head to foot, and, after thanking John, 
 turned away and walked with a grave face into 
 the garden again, and to the foot of the old 
 sundial. 
 
 The shadow had only moved on half an hour. 
 Bryda tried to hold her hand in such a way as 
 to make another shadow, that should come 
 
16 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 further over the dial. But that was a bad 
 imitation of the real thing, and made her think 
 of one evening when Uncle Jack had told her, 
 with such a serious face, to take a candle, and 
 go to see the time by the old sundial ; how she 
 had actually gone, and had only remembered 
 when she got there that the sun was in bed, 
 and therefore could not tell her what she wanted 
 to know. 
 
 Up the pillar on which stood the dial two 
 very large snails were crawling — oh, so slowly ! 
 They seemed to go even more slowly than the 
 long hot hours. 
 
 How amusing it would be to make them run, 
 or rather crawl races ! Bryda gathered a nice 
 fresh leaf, and put it at one edge of the dial. 
 Then she startled the two snails at the other 
 end, and for the next hour or so was perfectly 
 happy watching them, and starting them again 
 and again. 
 
 But at the end of that time the biggest and 
 fattest snail gave up the game in disgust, find- 
 ing he never could enjoy his leaf quietly when 
 he had got it, because a giant hand always 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 17 
 
 camej and would put hJni back at the starting- 
 place. 
 
 So he drew in his horns first, and then 
 went bodily into his house, which those gentle- 
 men conveniently carry on their backs. There 
 he sulked, and would come out no more ; so 
 Bryda threw him into a cabbage-bed, and went 
 indoors. 
 
 Bryda had so many funny ways of amusing 
 herself that Uncle Jack, who was very fond of 
 making jokes, declared she " lived in a jar of 
 mixed pickles." Indeed, these same amuse- 
 ments often ended by becoming small scrapes, 
 which he called Bryda's pickles ; and we shall 
 see that they were of all sorts, and really 
 ** mixed." 
 
 None are very wise at eight years old, and 
 many of us are, like my little Bryda, very 
 anxious to do rio;ht and be of some use in the 
 world. So we will follow her as she goes into 
 the house. 
 
18 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 A PEINCESS. 
 
 Cousin Salome would see her now, and so 
 Eryda went to the invalid's room. 
 
 ^' You look very miserable, darling," said the 
 soft voice compassionately, as Bryda, after 
 kissing her cousin, stood looking dolefully out 
 of the window. 
 
 *' I am very miserable, Cousin Salome," she 
 answered, feeling that she had good cause for 
 misery. 
 
 " Very miseral)le, when you can run about 
 and be out of doors with the sunshine and 
 the birds and the flowers ! There must be 
 something very bad the matter. Come and tell 
 me all about it." 
 
 Bryda knelt by the couch, a little ashamed 
 of heiself. Cousin Salome might well be miser- 
 able, so ill that she could never again hope to 
 walk in the sunny, scented garden. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 19 
 
 *'It's easy for you to be good, I suppose, 
 cousin," she said. "You lie here all day, and 
 don't find any mischief to get into." 
 
 The last words were said as if mischief was a 
 sort of thing that came to you, and asked you 
 to get into it — in the same way as roast pigs 
 run about in the fairy country, holding out a 
 knife and fork and crying, " Eat me, do ! 
 please !" 
 
 " So mischief is the cause of the great misery !" 
 said Cousin Salome, smiling, and drawing the 
 little girl nearer to her. "Tell me what wa^ 
 the last piece of mischief." 
 
 Bryda told all about her adventure with 
 Paddy, and ended : 
 
 " Oh, Cousin Salome, I've nothing to do !" 
 
 " That's the beginning of all mischief, I am 
 afraid, darling. Do bees and birds get into 
 mischief ? Not they, they are too busy." 
 
 " Well, I would make honey or a nest if I 
 knew how," said Bryda, laughing. " If I could 
 paint a picture like this, I should be happy." 
 
 Cousin Salome had been painting. She could 
 only do a little at a tima and that with diffi- 
 
so MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 culty ; but she had drawn a very beautiful 
 figure of a young girl in a rich, old-fashioned 
 dress, sitting by an open window, through which 
 could be seen a great plain and a large town 
 some way offc The girl's face was full of 
 wonder, and rather sad, and she looked away at 
 the sunset sky, as if she were thinking of some- 
 thing very puzzling. Bryda took up the pic- 
 ture and looked at it. 
 
 ^' That IS Princess Isabel of Montenaro; she 
 is doing what you are doing now, Bryda." 
 
 " What I am doing, cousin ?" 
 
 " Yea ; wondei'ing what she ought to do. Do 
 you see the town beyond the green park ? That 
 was her father's capital, and a dreadful sickness 
 broke out there, so that people died by hun 
 dreds. But the king was a hard-hearted man, 
 and spent the days in feasting and hunting, and 
 paid no heed to the people's sufferings." 
 
 ^^ Oh, do tell me the story !" cried Bryda 
 eagerly. 
 
 Cousin Salome smiled. 
 
 " The story, as I have it, is in verse. You 
 would not like that, Bryda ?" 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 21 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes ! Please read it." 
 
 *^ Can't you read it yourself ?" asked Salome 
 slyly. 
 
 " Oh, no r with great energy. ^^ Reading is 
 quite different from being read to. Why, the 
 story tastes quite ten times nicer when you listen 
 to it!" 
 
 So Cousin Salome opened a book that lay 
 near, and began to read in her gentle, tired 
 voice, the story of the little picture she had 
 painted of the Princess Isabel. 
 
 The story was all in verse, and it was a little 
 hard for Bryda to understand ; but it told how 
 the princess could not bear to know that others 
 were suffering without trying to help them. So, 
 while the sounds of her father's noisy feast 
 came up into her quiet room. Princess Isabel 
 rose up, took off her fine dress and her jewels, 
 and dressed herself very simply. Then, fol- 
 lowed only by two of her ladies, who were 
 unselfish like herself, Isabel went down on foot 
 to the plague-stricken city, and there remained, 
 nursing the sick and caring for the poor, till the 
 dreadful plague was at last gone. Meantime 
 
22 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 the king thought he could forget all about it, 
 and spent his time in hunting and feasting ; 
 but the pestilence came even into his palace, 
 and he and many of his gay court died. 
 
 Isabel was not touched by it ; and when the 
 sad time was over she remained in the city 
 working for the poor people, and helping them 
 till she died, never thinking of her own com- 
 fort. So the people, after she was dead, loved 
 to call her Saint Isabel. 
 
 " Thank you," said Bryda, and drew a long 
 breath when the story was finished. She had 
 perhaps not understood it all, but one thing 
 was clear. 
 
 " The princess was never idle, Cousin Salome. 
 So I expect slie never got into mischief. 
 But I don't think it was nice for her to have 
 no playtime." 
 
 "She could wait for her playtime, dear," 
 answered Cousin Salome gently. "She would 
 enjoy it all the more, perhaps, because she had 
 worked so hard." 
 
 The sick lady turned a little and looked out 
 at the quiet evening. Noisy rooks were flying 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 23 
 
 home to roost, meek cows slowly walking off 
 to be milked ; on a large tree a peacock and 
 his two wives were settling themselves for 
 sleep. 
 
 Bryda looked out of the window, too. 
 
 "I think the stars are afraid of the great 
 big sun, Cousin Salome. Do you see the way 
 they first poke out their heads, and look to see 
 if he is really gone, and then come right out to 
 do their little shining ?" 
 
 Cousin Salome laughed, and the deep lines 
 that sickness had written seemed to grow 
 fainter, and make her younger and rounder, 
 
 '^ Their little worktime is just beginning. 
 They look as if they came out smiling, with 
 clean bright faces, ready to do as they are 
 bidden." 
 
 "Poor Cousin Salome !" said Bryda, stroking 
 the thin white hand that lay weak and idle 
 on the soft coverings. "You can't w^ork or play 
 either. You must be very unhappy. I should 
 be." 
 
 " When I was your age, darling, I built my- 
 self grand castles in the air. Oh, how many 
 
24 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 nice things I meant to do when I grew up! 
 But I was given a different sort of work, a 
 much harder one to me, dear child — the work 
 of patiently doing nothing." 
 
 Bryda looked sorely puzzled. 
 
 "Never mind," went on Cousin Salome. 
 "You are not set to that work, Bryda, nor to a 
 great work like Princess Isabel's. Just now 
 you will find there are plenty of little works 
 ready for you to do — little crumbs .of which to 
 make a great" loaf." 
 
 " Picking up grannie's stitches when she 
 drops them ? asked Bryda. Grandmother's 
 knitting was often in that sort of state. 
 
 "That may be one thing. They are ^^lenty 
 more. Shall I tell you an old German story, 
 about the use of little things ? 
 
 " Once upon a time some people lived in a 
 plain, at the edge of which there was the sea. 
 They lived here long and liappily ; but one sad 
 day the sea began to rise and oveiiiow the 
 plain, creeping every day a little nearer the 
 prosperous village. 
 
 "So the people were sorely frightened, an(f 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 25 
 
 tried to build earthworks; but the sea washed 
 away at nighc what they had doue iu the day. 
 " These were days very long ago, when, 
 
 according to the old stories, God would answer 
 men from heaven when they called to Him. 
 
 "So the people prayed and asked God to 
 send them His great angels, that they might 
 make hills for them to protect their homes and 
 fields from the terrible waters. 
 
 " But God answered, ^ My angels have already 
 
20 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 their work; they cannot help you in this. But 
 to-morrow, at sunrise, I will send to you an army 
 of My laborers; they shall make you sand-hills.' 
 
 "So the villagers were very glad, and next 
 morning they rose early, before the sun, won- 
 derini2f what sort of laborers these would be. 
 
 " ^ Perhaps the happy spirits of our fathers 
 will come back to help us ; perhaps men from 
 the south country — a kind and friendly people 
 — will be sent to work for us. Perhaps ' 
 
 " But all their wonder was in vain, and it was 
 changed to surprise and dismay when, as the 
 sun rose, they saw coming swiftly from the east 
 an army of — what do you think, Bryda ?" 
 
 " Lions and tigers ?" asked Bryda, with wide- 
 open eyes. "Elephants? People? Giants?" 
 
 "No, indeed; neither great, strong animals, 
 nor clever men, but hundreds and hundreds and 
 thousands of ants !" 
 
 "Ants, cousin? What use would they be?" 
 
 " You shall hear. Each ant carried one grain, 
 or what seemed to be one grain, of sand. On 
 and on they came, and the ground was quite 
 black with their hosts. The people looked, 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 37 
 
 and gradually their murmurs grew to one great 
 roar of discontent. But God's little laborers 
 paid no attention. They had their Master's 
 will to do, and so long as that was done they 
 cared for neither the praise nor the blame of His 
 other creatures. So all day long they worked, 
 each little ant carrying his little load ; and 
 when the sun set there was a great line of sand- 
 hills, so high that no waves could wash over 
 them, so thick that no storm could break them 
 down, between the happy villagers and the sea." 
 
 " Then the people stopped grumbling, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 "We will hope so. And perhaps they learned 
 that God can use the smallest things to do His 
 work with. The little ants were as useful in 
 their way as the noble, unselfish Princess Isabel. 
 Now, dear, I am getting very tired ; ^vill you 
 sit quietly and look at pictures, or run away and 
 see the grannies ?" 
 
 Bryda chose the pictures, and sat as still as a 
 mouse in the window, looking first at a picture, 
 and then out of the window, and saying to 
 herself that she, too, would try to be of some use. 
 
28 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ANOTHER DREADFUL SCRAPE. 
 
 The next morning Biyda was awakened from 
 her pleasant morning sleep by a strange sound. 
 Her window was partly open, but something 
 struck against the upper sash ; it was not a bird 
 that bad lost its way, nor a wasp come to look 
 for jam, for as Bryda raised her head something 
 that could only be a handful of light gravel or 
 shot struck the window again, and at the same 
 time a clear, shrill whistle sounded outside. 
 
 Bryda hastily sprang up. One does not care 
 mucli alxnit dress at nine years old, so in white 
 nightdress and dark twisted hair she fearlessly 
 put Her head out of the window, and saw, to 
 her delight, her cousin, Maurice Gray, a boy 
 some two years younger than herself, with his 
 queer, ugly little Scotch terrier, Toby, standing 
 
Maurice Gray with his queer little Scotch terrier Toby.— Page 28. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 29 
 
 on the lawn. She need not be sad for want of 
 a playmate to-day. 
 
 " Get up and dress !" cried Maurice. " Aren't 
 you ashamed, my Lady Lie-in-bed ? Come out 
 directly !" 
 
 Bryda did not need a second invitation. A 
 very short time indeed passed before she was 
 by Maurice's side. 
 
 His father had brought him over, he said ; his 
 father wanted to see grandfather about some 
 business, so he had started off very early. 
 Maurice was dreadfully hungry, and, as the 
 grannies never breakfasted till ten, he and 
 Bryda each got a thick slice of bread and jam 
 from the good-natured cook, and then went off 
 to the garden, Bryda running races with Toby, 
 who mostly had the best of it. You see he had 
 four legs to Bryda's two. 
 
 They went to the vinery, and acted a little 
 play, which, however, wanted a few more actors 
 sadly. It was so puzzling for Bryda to be both 
 the imprisoned princess and the ogre at once ; 
 and when Maurice, the valiant knight, slew 
 Toby for a dragon, and stepped over his corpse 
 
30 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 (or would have done, if Toby had been a little 
 more dead, and not run away every other 
 minute), it got really puzzling, and it was well 
 that the breakfast-bell rang at that moment. 
 
 Breakfast was rather a long, dull affair. 
 Uncle James, Maurice's father, explained to 
 grandfather a great deal about a drainage 
 scheme; and grandmother, every five minutes, 
 asked her maid Martha, who stood behind her 
 chair, to tell her what it was all about, which 
 Martha had to do in very loud whispers over 
 and over again. 
 
 Maurice and Bryda were very glad to run 
 out again, with special directions from grand- 
 mother to keep off wet grass, and not get into 
 mischief. This, they thought, could not possibly 
 happen. This time they rambled into the farm- 
 yard. Bryda would not look for more kittens, 
 but tried to make friends with some small balls 
 of fluff, which meant some day to be turkeys. 
 At one corner of the yard was a deep tank, or 
 little pond, full of* a dark brown, rather thick 
 fluid, which was used in the garden and fields, 
 and had a great effect in the way of making 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 31 
 
 things grow. Bryda and her cousin stood look- 
 ing at it. 
 
 " I declare," said Bryda, "it's like the Styx !" 
 
 " I don't see any sticks," said ignorant 
 Maurice, who had never learned that the old 
 heathens believed the souls of dead people went 
 in a ferryboat across a dark river called the 
 Styx, and that the old man who rowed the boat 
 was called Charon. 
 
 Bryda thought it would be capital fun to act 
 this little scene. Certainly the treacle-colored 
 stuff in the pool looked nasty enough to do 
 very well for this dark river. 
 
 As to Maurice, he was younger than his 
 cousin, and when they were together she always 
 invented the games, although he had been to 
 school already, and thought girls generally were 
 very little use. 
 
 • So when Bryda explained what she wanted 
 to do, he only said that he did not know how 
 to act a story that he had never heard ; 
 to which Bryda only answered quietly, and as 
 if it were a fact no one could think of doubtinc: 
 for a moment, " You don't know anything 
 
32 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 about anytliing, Maurice. Sit down there — no ! 
 not on a cabbage, but on the wheelbarrow — 
 and I ^vill tell you all about it." 
 
 So she told him the story, in the middle of 
 which the wheelbarrow upset, because Maurice 
 laughed. So he sat on a log of wood, and Bryda 
 picked up the wheelbarrow, got into it, and 
 began in the words of one of her lesson-books, 
 with a little alteration to suit the occasion. 
 
 " Friend ! Roman ! Countrypan ! lend me 
 your ears ! I am Charon " 
 
 '' What ?" asked Maurice. 
 
 " Don't spoil my speech ! You may only say 
 * Hear, hear !' as they do in Parliament." 
 
 " But suppose I don't want to hear ?" 
 
 Bryda had no notion of wliat they would do 
 under such urdikely circumstances; so, after 
 thinking a little, she merely said, ^^ Don't be 
 silly, Maurice !" And that sort of answer puts 
 an end to any argument quite easily. 
 
 " This is my dog Cerberus, with three heads," 
 went on Bryda, pointing to Toby. 
 
 ^* My ! what a lot of bones he would eat !" 
 said his master. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 33 
 
 Bryda suddenly jumped down from her rather 
 unsteady pulpit. 
 
 " Oh, we loill have fun ! Here, Maurice, 
 put on my white pinafore. You shall be a 
 ghost, and I will get into the tub with my dog 
 Cerberus, and ferry you over the river," she 
 said. 
 
 " It won't hold two," said Maurice, looking 
 rather doubtfully at the rotten tub which Bryda 
 pushed into the filthy waters, making a splash 
 and a most horrible smell as it went in. 
 
 " Oh, ghosts don't want much room ! Now, 
 Cerberus, in you go !" and in the poor dog went, 
 hastily and ungracefully ; being, in fact, thrown 
 in head foremost. 
 
 After one howl he resigned himself, and 
 lay down at the bottom of the tub, into which 
 unsteady boat Bryda, armed with her own small 
 spade, followed with Maurice's help. 
 
 Having balanced herself by crouching down, 
 so as to bring the center of gravity to the right 
 place, she proceeded to paddle, or, as she called 
 it, to row with the little wooden spade, splash- 
 ing a good deal, and, of course, making the tub 
 
34 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 turn round and round, and wriggle very un- 
 comfortably in the pool. 
 
 ^' Well, it doesn't matter," said Charon, giving 
 up in despair, and looking very red in the face. 
 "We can pretend I crossed the Styx to fetch 
 
 you. Now I must speak to the soul in Latin, 
 because, of course, Charon and Cerberus talked 
 Latin always." 
 
 " I suppose Cerberus barked in Latin — all 
 three mouths at once," said Maurice ; " what a 
 horrid row it must have been !" 
 
 " Now talk away," said Bryda. 
 
 " But we dont know Latin ; IVe only just 
 begun at hie, hcec, hoc.'''' 
 
 " That doesn't matter; we must make it up, 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 35 
 
 of course. If we put ' us ' or ^ o ' at the end 
 of every word it will sound exactly like the 
 stuff Cousin Ronald learns. Now : Poor-us 
 soul-US, do-US you-us want-o to cross over-o ?" 
 
 " Yes-o," replied Maurice promptly. 
 
 " Then-us come-o — oh ! oh !" screamed Bryda, 
 making the last word very long indeed; 
 for she trod on the one tail of the dog Cerberus, 
 causing that remarkable animal to jump up 
 howling. Cbaron's ferryboat was not built to 
 allow of athletic sports on board, so it went 
 over, and Bryda went in. 
 
 Oh, dear ! what word can describe the filthy 
 mess into which Bryda was plunged up to her 
 waist ! the smell of it, and the chill, horrible 
 feeling ! Fortunately, she had just taken 
 Maurice's hand, to help in "the soul," who 
 indeed felt very lucky to escape such a voyage ! 
 Maurice was able to help her, but, soaked to 
 the waist and ready to cry, she scrambled up to 
 dry land. 
 
 By way of mending matters, the dog Cer- 
 berus, who may be supposed to have become 
 Toby again, had gone in altogether, and was 
 
36 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 rather pleased with himself. So he came and 
 had a good shake close to Bryda, so as to splash 
 all the rest of her small peison, and then ran 
 round and romid, expressing his delight by all 
 sorts of queer noises. 
 
 But, oh ! here was a mess ! And this after 
 the trouble of yesterday, and all Bryda's good 
 resolutions ! It was too dreadful, and tears 
 came fast to her eyes. 
 
 But kind Maurice, instead of laughing, pitied 
 her. " Don't cry," he said ; *' can't you wasli V 
 
 " I might run^'' said Bryda dolefully, remem- 
 bering what dreadful things happened to frocks 
 that "ran." 
 
 "That stuff might run off," said Maurice; 
 " come on." 
 
 And she followed meekly to the nearest 
 greenhouse, where was a large tirb of fresh 
 water, and beside it a big squirt or syringe used 
 for watering plants high up in the greenhouse. 
 
 "Oh, Maurice dear, I never will call you 
 stupid again !" cried Bryda, delighted, as Mau- 
 rice filled the syringe and set to work upon her. 
 What fun that was I It was almost worth the 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 37 
 
 fright of that horrid splash, and almost — not 
 quite, perhaps — worth the disgrace Bryda would 
 certainly be in with nurse. Such peals of 
 laughter followed each shower that the quiet 
 cows in the fields beyond lifted up their great 
 heavy heads, and stared with brown eyes of 
 mild astonishment. 
 
 Can you imagine the sort of figure Bryda was 
 when grandmother came out in her wheel-chair 
 to take a turn in the sunshine ? Soaked from 
 head to foot ; streams of clean water, and others 
 of the horribly smelling stuff into which she 
 had plunged, pouring off her in all directions ! 
 She did indeed look a miserable little guilty 
 thing, hanging her head while grandmother 
 looked at her through her gold eyeglass, evi- 
 dently so surprised and shocked that she could 
 find no words for a few minutes, and at last 
 could only tell her she must never! never! 
 never ! do such dreadful things again. If she 
 did, the consequences would be 
 
 This row of stars must stand for those dread- 
 
38 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 ful consequences, for Bryda never heard them ! 
 Uncle James and grandfather had conie up by 
 this time, and she fled, as fast as wet, clinging 
 clothes would let her, to the house. It was 
 "out of the fryiug-pan into the fire," though, 
 for nurse's wrath was really something too 
 dreadful ; and the way in which she ended, by 
 saying that she supposed Miss Bryda would like 
 better to make mud pies in the streets than to 
 play with other Christians, hurt the child's feel- 
 ings dreadfully. I am sorry to say she walked 
 out of the nursery with damp, smooth hair and 
 a clean frock, but with her head so very much 
 in the air that her namesake, Saint Bride, or 
 Bridget, or Bryda, would have been quite 
 shocked. 
 
 " You see, Cousin Salome," she said afterward, 
 ^^ it was such a dose of disgraces, and I meant 
 to be so wise, and clever, and useful." 
 
 " Did you ash to be made wise, and clever, 
 and useful ?" asked Salome gently. 
 
 Bryda hung her head. She had forgotten 
 that. I am afraid she dressed so quickly in the 
 morning to join Maurice that she never lenieiu- 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 39 
 
 bered to ask the Helper of the helpless to 
 make her what she would like to be. 
 
 "I have been so miserable, Cousin Salome," 
 she added; ^*I don't believe Mary, Queen of 
 Scots, could have been more wretched if she 
 had had her head cut off three times running." 
 
 How this was to be managed did not seem to 
 strike Bryda as puzzling. She and Maurice had 
 so often acted the execution of Mary of Scot- 
 land, with an armchair for the block, and an 
 umbrella for an ax, that they were quite used 
 to the queen having her head cut off very often 
 without minding it in the least, or being any the 
 worse for it afterward. 
 
 But, certainly, it is very tiresome when our 
 most amusing games end in some mischief that 
 we never dreamed of doing ! It was not so very 
 long before this dreadful accident in the tub 
 that Bryda, who had been reading English his- 
 tory, told Maurice they would act King Canute 
 and his courtiers on the seashore. 
 
 So she put two chairs, and collected all the 
 water she could from every jug and water-bottle 
 she could find, so as nearly to fill a bath placed 
 
40 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 in front of the two chairs on which she and 
 Maurice sat. 
 
 " So they put chairs close by the seashore as 
 the tide came in," related Bryda, " and the little 
 waves came nearer and nearer. And the courtiers 
 said, ' O king, let us move a little higher up.' 
 But Canute said, 'Why should we? Did you 
 not say I was such a great king that no doubt 
 even the sea would obey me?' And the cour- 
 tiers held their stupid tongues, for they knew 
 very well that they had said so. But the tide 
 kept on coming, and presently the courtiers got 
 up and ran away, for the water was halfway up 
 the legs of their chairs, and they had already 
 been sitting with their knees up to their noses." 
 
 But here Bryda, trying to get herself into 
 this graceful position, lost her balance, and 
 rolled off her chair, falling on the edge of the 
 bath ; which, of course, upset, and made a higher 
 tide in the nursery than had ever been seen there 
 before, for the water flowed in every direction, 
 and the children, ashamed and frightened 
 though they were, could not help laughing at 
 the way in which a pair of Bryda's shoes floated 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 41 
 
 about like little canoes, till one that liad a hole 
 at the side turned over and went down. 
 
 This happened at Bryda's own home, before 
 her father and mother went away. Mother was 
 not pleased, of course ; but still she was not 
 quite so dreadfully shocked as the grannies were 
 at the adventure in the old tub. 
 
42 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHA T CAN I DO? 
 
 It was in a penitent frame of mind that By rda 
 awoke on Sunday morning. She would be 
 really good and keep out of mischief all day 
 long. 
 
 Cousin Salome was better this morning, and 
 Bryda went in to see her after breakfast. 
 
 " No, dear, I cannot go to church," she said, 
 when Biyda asked if she would go that morn- 
 ing ; ^^ but I dare say church will come to me. 
 I shall read to myself, and think of all the 
 people all over the world who are saying the 
 same words of prayer, till my little room seems 
 to grow into a piece of a great church." And 
 Salome's white, thin face grew so bright and 
 sweet that Bryda thought it looked like an 
 angel's face in a picture she had seen. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 43 
 
 The idea helped her to sit much more still 
 than usual in the old family coach, opposite the 
 two dear old grannies. 
 
 Grandfather was a very polite old gentleman, 
 and thought people nowadays too free and 
 easy. Especially he held that no gentleman 
 ever ought to drive with ladies with his hat on ; 
 so, as soon as he got into the carriage, he always 
 took off his very well brushed tall hat, and fixed 
 it by the brim in two ribbons fastened for the 
 purpose along the carriage ceiling. 
 
 Grandmother always wore a bonnet of the 
 shape that was in fashion when she was young, 
 a curious coal-scuttle affair, which generally set 
 Bryda wondering how the wrinkled old face 
 looked when its pink cheeks were round, and 
 whether, if she were to go to work with a piece 
 of india-rubber, she could rub out the deep lines 
 and get the young look back again. 
 
 Grandmother's eyes were dim, and she liked 
 to have the lessons and the hymns found for 
 her. Bryda sometimes did not care to do this ; 
 because, if the hymn were a short one, it was 
 sometimes half over before she had found her 
 
44 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 own place, and was able to join, as she dearly 
 liked to do, in the singing. 
 
 But to-day she really did want to be of use, 
 so she did this small duty cheerfully, and was 
 rewarded by the happy way in which the old 
 lady smiled and nodded over the big printed 
 book. 
 
 The sermon seemed to have to do, in a most 
 curious way, with the very things of which 
 Bryda had been thinking, and she quite started 
 when the rector's voice said suddenly, " Noth- 
 ing to do r and there stopped. " Nothing to 
 do," he said, '^ when the whole world is full of 
 things tliat want doing ! The harvest ripe, but 
 the laborers idle ! The people hungry, and 
 those who have the loaves and fishes keeping 
 them — wasted, unused!" 
 
 The clergyman went on to speak of works 
 that men and women might do, and Bryda 
 nestled close against grandfather's shoulder and 
 thought sadly, *' When I am grown up I may 
 be of some use, but what a long time off that 
 is !" But presently she looked up again very 
 brightly as the kind old rector went on : 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 45 
 
 "And now, what shall I say to the little 
 ones? Just this, that the Father needs them 
 quite as much as their elders. They may not 
 be able to do great works, to reap the hardest 
 field, but they may help with cords of love to 
 bind the sheaves ; they may glean the scattered 
 ears, and make a little sheaf of good corn. The 
 Lord took a " few small fishes " to serve His 
 great purpose; He will take little hands and 
 feet and hearts, and make them do His will. 
 Only the little ones must be willing ^ 
 
 Yes ! But he had not told Bryda what she 
 might do, and how to set about doing the Lord's 
 will seemed to her very puzzling. 
 
 She wondered about it the whole way home, 
 and made a little plan, which she determined 
 to carry out at once after luncheon. When 
 grown-up people were very good, Bryda knew 
 that they were fond of caring for the poor, and 
 that then they generally carried soup to those 
 who were sick, and read the Bible aloud in 
 cottages. In her own town home she had never 
 been into the houses of the poor at all ; indeed, 
 these houses were so hidden away behind the 
 
46 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 handsome streets in which the rich lived, that 
 she hardly knew there were such places. But 
 here, in the little village outside grandfather's 
 lodge gates, she knew poor people lived, mostly 
 in neat cottages with honeysuckle climbing over 
 their trellised porches. There were most likely 
 nice old women there, who sat knitting in their 
 tidy room, with spectacled eyes, and caps as 
 white as snow. It would be nice to go there, 
 and surely to visit them would be useful, and 
 would please Him who made use of a " few 
 small fishes " to do His work when He was on 
 earth. 
 
 Full of this happy thought, Bryda descended 
 to the kitchen. The servants'-hall dinner was 
 just over, the kitchen-maid was washing plates 
 in the scullery, and cook was sitting l)y the 
 kitchen window with a very clean apron and 
 very smart cap ; while by her stood a tall young 
 shepherd, in his Sunday best, and a flower in 
 his coat. 
 
 Bryda made her request to cook, namely, that 
 she might have a little soup in a jug. 
 
 *^ Whatever do you want it for, miss ?" asked 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 47 
 
   • 
 
 the cook, evidently ill-pleased by the interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 "I want to do good to the poor, answered 
 she, looking up seriously at the cross face. 
 
 "Dear! miss: what an old-fashioned child 
 you are !" cried cook. But she fetched the 
 soup, and Bryda was much surprised to see 
 that it was a cold bright jelly, very nice to 
 carry, as there could be no fear of spilling it on 
 her fresh Sunday frock. So off she started, 
 and walked quickly down the avenue and out 
 into the pretty village, with her soup and her 
 testament. But now came a new puzzle — 
 Bryda knew none of the people in the village. 
 To which house should she go ? 
 
 Looking round, she saw that one of the 
 houses looked much poorer than the others. 
 The little garden was full of weeds, the porch 
 shabby and broken, with creepers that sadly 
 wanted nailing, hanging loosely from the wall, 
 one poor rose quite bent to the earth with heavy 
 blossoms. Everything looked neglected, and 
 Bryda thought the people must be very poor 
 indeed^ since their home looked so wretched. 
 
48 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Timidly walking up to the door, for her courage 
 began to fail her a little, she tapped gently. 
 
 " Open the door, Betsy," said a gruff voice 
 inside ; to which another voice answered, grumb- 
 ling : 
 
 " Can't you do it yourself, you stupid old 
 woman ?" 
 
 Then the door opened suddenly, and Bryda 
 saw a rough-looking girl of about fifteen, with 
 a very dirty face, shock head, and untidy, torn 
 dress, whose voice was as rough as her look, 
 holding the door. 
 
 " Now, then, what do you want ?" she said, 
 frowning fiercely at her trembling visitor. 
 "D'yer want to know the way, or to ax a glass 
 of water? That's all folks like you ever 
 troubles folks like us for, 'cept when we're ill, 
 and then yer brings us tracks :" by which she 
 probably meant tracts. 
 
 " If you please," said poor Bryda, " I thought 
 some one might be ill here, and so I brought 
 some soup." 
 
 " Come in, my dear, come in," said the old 
 woman from her corner^ and began coughing 
 
MIXED PICKLES^ 49 
 
 and wheezing very loudly, groaning so dread- 
 fully between her attacks that Bryda was more 
 frightened than ever, and thought she was 
 going to die. Perhaps some, soup would do her 
 good; so she timidly entered the cottage, the 
 girl immediately shutting the door behind her, 
 set down her little basket, and began to open it. 
 
 " That's a nice bit o' chain round yer neck," 
 said the rude girl, coming behind her. " I 
 wonder if it wouldn't look better on me." So 
 saying, she quickly unclasped the pretty silver 
 chain that hung round her visitor's neck, and 
 put it on her own, before Bryda had time to 
 object. 
 
 The old woman had, meantime, stopped 
 coughing ; she got up quickly and seized the jug 
 of clear soup-jelly, and began poking her 
 shriveled old fingers in, and so eating it. But 
 the girl, seeing this, caught the hand that held 
 the jug, while the old woman was eating and 
 muttering all the time. 
 
 " Soup for the sick ! Oh, yes, I am very ill ! 
 Bring me some soup, my dear ; bring me plenty 
 of soup " 
 
50 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 The rough girl caught the jug and tried to 
 put her own fingers in, on which a struggle fol- 
 lowed ; the pitcher fell to the floor and broke, 
 while the jelly was scattered everywhere ; and 
 poor Bryda, frightened almost out of her wits, 
 left the two dreadful women to fight, opened 
 the door, and ran as if they were after her. 
 leaving locket and chain, and her basket, and 
 feeling as if she were fortunate in escaping at 
 all. 
 
 Eushing blindly on, she hardly knew where, 
 only feeling that she must run, her foot caught 
 in the root of a tree, and she fell violently to 
 the ground, striking her head against the trunk. 
 Stupid as she felt, in a moment she was trying 
 to struggle up, when a hand was laid on her 
 shoulder ; and, thinking it must be the dreadful 
 girl who had so frightened her, the poor girl 
 screamed aloud. 
 
 " Hush, hush ! don't scream that way !'' said 
 a kind, soothing voice ; an arm gently raised her, 
 and Bryda, looking up, saw an old man, with 
 cheeks like a winter-apple, white hair, and a 
 pair of the kindest, friendliest old eyes that ever 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 51 
 
 looked through spectacles, standing beside 
 her. 
 
 '^ Come into ray cottage here, and rest a little." 
 
 Bryda looked round her, feeling that for this 
 time she had had enough of the inside of 
 cottages. 
 
 "Do now," went on the old man. "Don't be 
 afeard, missy ! Thy grandfather and old Roger 
 were young together; ah! and good friends 
 they were, too, for all I could beat him at 
 wrestling; he never took it amiss, did Master 
 George — that's your grandad, little missy. 
 Come in now, and welcome." Bryda gained a 
 little courage at this speech, and followed the 
 old man into his cottage, close to which she had 
 fallen. 
 
 As she went she could see the rude girl 
 looking out of her house and making ugly faces. 
 
 '' Which she need not have done," said Bryda 
 afterward ; " she was hideous already !" 
 
b^ MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OLD ROGER. 
 
 Directly Bryda was inside the old man's 
 cottage she was able to collect her scattered 
 wits, and look round at her kind friend and at 
 his dwelling. 
 
 The little room into which she had come 
 served as the old man's sitting-room and kitchen 
 both; the door into' what would naturally have 
 been his little parlor was open, and she could 
 see tools hanging up on neat wooden racks, 
 half-finished chairs and boxes lying about, 
 and in the center of the room a carpenter's 
 bench and turning-lathe. The carpenter himself 
 wore a very old-fashioned dress, long blue knitted 
 stockings, strong low shoes with buckles, a scaii 
 wound round and round his throat, so that two 
 little points of very white collar came just 
 under his chin, and a funny old brown coat 
 with peculiar-looking buttons. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 53 
 
 He drew a chair for Bryda near the hearth 
 on which burned a small wood fire, and above 
 which were a great many memorial cards in 
 frames — wonderful works of art, with veiy 
 black backgrounds and very white tombs, over 
 which leaned in exhausted attitudes drooping 
 female figures, supposed to be lamenting the 
 departed in the tombs, while usually a large 
 weeping willow languished in one corner of the 
 picture. 
 
 The carpenter himself sat down, where he 
 had evidently been sitting before, at a small 
 table, on which was a very large Bible with 
 pictures in it. 
 
 As he did so his eyes rested on the opposite 
 wall, on which was a quaint old woodcut, 
 representing the Christ in Joseph's workshop 
 at Nazareth, with a glory round His heady 
 busily making a table. Bryda saw, it too, and 
 could not help noticing the look of pleasure 
 that came into the old man's face, as if he had 
 suddenly seen a very dear friend. 
 
 " You're a carpenter, Mr. Roger ?" said Bryda, 
 trying not to feel shy. 
 
54 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 '^Ay, ay," answered the old man, turning his 
 spectacled eyes slowly from the picture to her 
 face. ** I make chairs and tables, and all else 
 that I've strength for, just as He did," pointing 
 to the picture. " He made them for over 
 twenty years, but I've made them now for twice 
 that, and more. Nigh on to seventy years I've 
 (lone the same work as He did ; and whenever 
 I do a real neat job, missy, I say to myself, 
 "That's right, Roger; do 'em better and better 
 still, and some day you'll do one that He 
 needn't a-been ashamed of." ' 
 
 "Do you think the Lord made the best chairs 
 and tables ?" asked Bryda, wondering. She 
 had been so much more used to think of our 
 Redeemer as He taught, and worked miracles, 
 and went about doing good, than as the carpen- 
 ter who worked quietly in a little out-of-the- 
 way village. 
 
 " I dunno about the best, missy ; maybe 
 He never had the best teachin' ; leastways, not 
 to make grand folks' furniture. But I know 
 every nail He drove was put in true and straight, 
 and never a bit of bad wood used, or a place 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 55 
 
 people wouldn't see left unfinished. All the 
 work He did was the best He knew to do — 
 that I know right well, missy." 
 
 Bryda sighed. She had come out to try and 
 do some of the Lord's own work — to help the 
 poor. And she had failed so horribly, with 
 the best intentions ! The old carpenter heard 
 her sigh. 
 
 *^ Tell old Roger how you got into trouble, 
 missy," he said ; " and maybe a cup of tea 
 would freshen you after all's done." 
 
 It was only half -past three, but the old man 
 got up and bustled about, laying tea on the 
 clean deal table, with a cloth still cleaner, for 
 Bryda and himself, a big loaf, and a little bit of 
 country butter. Then he put the kettle on to 
 boil, and sat down opposite Bryda to watch it, 
 while she told all the story of her adventure to 
 her new friend, beginning with the scrape of 
 yesterday, and Cousin Salome's story, and ending 
 by saying sadly that it seemed as if there was 
 no use for her in the world. 
 
 ^' Don't fret, my dear ; don't fret," said the 
 kind old man ; " the Lord has a use for every- 
 
56 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 thing and everybody, if they'll ask Ilim to show 
 the way. Why, the dear Lord had need of a 
 donkey once, and He sent to ask for it. Didst 
 ask Him what to do, little miss, before thou 
 went V 
 
 Bryda hung her head. That she had not done. 
 
 " That's where the fault was," said Roger 
 thoughtfully. " What dost think 'ud happen 
 if I tried to do squire's work, or parson's ? 
 They wouldn't thrive with me, for sure." 
 
 At this moment the cottage door opened, 
 and the object of Bryda's terror, the shock- 
 headed girl, entered. In one hand slie held 
 Bryda's locket and chain, in the other her 
 basket, both of which she thumped down upon 
 the table, so that all the tea-tliings raftled, 
 merely saying, "There, take yer things, and 
 don't come near us no more !" She bounced 
 out again, and banged the d(^or belli nd her. 
 
 " So it was Moll Dawson as f rcvkcned y 
 
 J" 
 
 said Roger, when she was gone; ^^^lic's a ical 
 bad 'un, that girl. I'm thinking she's one of 
 those lambs that run further off because they 
 hear the Shepherd calling." 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 57 
 
 ^' I shall never dare to go near her hoiiso 
 again," said Bryda ; "but I am glad she did not 
 steal my locket and chain. And I wish I could 
 help somebody who is sick or very poor," she 
 added, returning to her first idea. 
 
 The old carpenter leaned his elbows on his 
 knees, and looked at Bryda very earnestly. 
 
 *^ When I were a young 'un," he said, " and 
 lived in a part of the country far away from 
 here, there was a cold, clear spring as bubbled 
 up by the roadside, with the best water in all 
 the country round, that never dried up. And 
 they called it ' The Child's Well,' and told a 
 pretty story about it." 
 
 " Oh, do tell me !" said Bryda eagerly, roused 
 at once by the idea of a story, like a dog at the 
 scent of game. 
 
 " Well," continued the old man, " they say 
 that once, long years ago, there was a little 
 lassie troubled in mind like you, missy, and 
 wanting to do a bit o' work for the dear Lord. 
 So every day, when she left her little white 
 bed, she knelt down and prayed summat like 
 this : ^ Dear Lord,' says she, ^ give me a little 
 
68 
 
 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 bit of Thy great work to do.' And all day 
 long she was kind and gentle, and always doin' 
 a hand's turn for some one, if it was only 
 mindin' a babby while the mother went out. 
 
 " But she didn't understand, ye see, missy, 
 that such bits o' things could belong to the 
 
 Lord's work. Till one day, as the story goes, 
 when it was a holiday, all the chicks went out, 
 and were going some way oif to play. Just as 
 they got a little way out of the village, on the 
 dusty, hot road, they met an old man. very foot- 
 sore, and old and tired-lookin'. So he says, 
 ' For dear pity's sake, little 'uns, give me a little 
 water.' But the well was some way back, and 
 
And where the water fell this spring rose up.— Page 59. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 69 
 
 the childer in a hiirry to go and play, so they 
 one and all told him to go on furder, and he'd 
 find what he wanted. All but this little maid : 
 she stayed looking wistfully at the old man, 
 though the others called to her to come on. 
 ' Sit down,' she says, ^ till I fetch you some 
 water,' and off she runs back 
 to the village, fills a cup, and 
 brings it back steady, not spillin' 
 a drop. But when she came 
 where she left the old man sit- 
 
 ting, there was a beautiful figure, all in a 
 white dress with gold about it, and such a face 
 as she had never seen before. And He took 
 the cup and put it to His lips, and then with 
 a voice like the sound of many waters — so she 
 told the people after — He told her, ^ Even 
 a cup of cold water, given to the very least, 
 shall have its reward.' And He poured out 
 the rest of the water, and where it fell this 
 
60 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 spring rose up. And while the little maid 
 looked at it, all on a sudden He was gone." 
 
 " Was it an angel that she saw ?" asked 
 Bryda, in an awe-struck tone. 
 
 " Some say it was an angel, some say it was 
 the dear Lord Himself," said the old carpenter, 
 bowing his head reverently. ^'But I don't 
 rightly know, missy ; I don't rightly know." 
 
 Here the kettle made a distraction by boiling 
 over, and old Roger took it off and made tea. 
 
 Then his little visitor, who had now quite 
 recovered her spirits, suggested that it would 
 be "awfully nice" if they had some buttered 
 toast, and in two minutes he and Bryda were on 
 two stools by the fire, each with slice of bread 
 at the end of a fork, the old man and little girl 
 as happy as it was possible to be. 
 
 They were just going to turn their pieces and 
 toast the other sides, when suddenly the door 
 opened, and Byrda's nurse entered like a ^vhirl• 
 wind, and stood horror-struck on the threshold. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Bryda, you naughty, naughty 
 girl ! Whatever do you think your poor dear 
 mother would say, seeing you sitting there, for 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 61 
 
 all the world like a vulgar child, and every one 
 up at the house running about distracted, be- 
 cause you're lost ? Come away this minute !" 
 
 Bryda had nothing to say for herself. She 
 meant to do good ; but it was very naughty to 
 slip away " unbeknown," as nurse would say, 
 and frighten every one. 
 
 The old carpenter had tea alone after all, and 
 Bryda went sorrowfully home with her scolding 
 nurse. 
 
6^ MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 UNCLE jack's story. 
 
 Uncle Jack came home next day. and 
 Bryda's spirit rose from freezing to a very bigli 
 point indeed when she saw him come into the 
 garden, where she was sitting rather sadly, with 
 knitted brows, very busily thinking, and staring 
 hard at nothing. She was trying to think how 
 it was that she could not manage to be of more 
 use; and that is a very deep subject to think 
 about when you are only nine years old. 
 
 " Though, after all," said Bryda to herself, 
 " lessons may do me some good. "When things 
 are disagreeable, like doses and lessons, people 
 say they are for your good ; but I don't see 
 how they can do any one else good." 
 
 Just as she was thinking this, a merry 
 whistled tune came through the trees. Nobody 
 could whistle like Uncle Jack. 
 
 " What's the matter, maiden all forloi-n ?" 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 63 
 
 asked his cheery voice. " Here comes the man 
 all tattered and torn to rouse you up !" 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Jack !" said Bryda sorrowfully, 
 " I am of no use." 
 
 " No use ! who cares about that ? Perhaps 
 you were made for ornament, like the roses, aad 
 butterflies, and nice little singing-birds." 
 
 " Ornament's no use," went on Bryda, sadly 
 still. 
 
 "Isn't it J If the world had no birds, and 
 no flowers, and no butterflies, and no children, 
 only hard-working men and women and cart- 
 horses, what sort of place would it be ?" 
 
 " Very dull," said Bryda quickly. 
 
 " So I should think. And supposing the 
 birds were all harnessed to carts, and the flow- 
 ers mown down for hay, and the children set 
 to work in offices all day long, would that be 
 nice ?" 
 
 Bryda laughed. " No, indeed. Uncle Jack." 
 
 " Well, then, Bryda's work is to look merry, 
 and good-tempered, and happy, as if she was a 
 tame sunbeam that the grannies kept to amuse 
 them." Bryda laughed still more. 
 
64 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 " Uncle Jack do you know you are horribly 
 nice ?" she said, dragging him down to a seat. 
 
 " Horribly nice ? What sort of niceness is 
 that ? Like laspberry jam, or pet kittens, or 
 troublesome children ?" All these are nice, and 
 horrible too. Jam is horrible when it makes 
 you ill, kittens when they scratch, children 
 when they behave badly." 
 
 " 1 wish I could grow up all at once," said 
 Byrda, with a sigh ; " and then I should never 
 get into scrapes again, and have grandmother 
 calling me Bridget." 
 
 This was Bryda's idea of the worst thing 
 that could be said to her; when she was 
 naughty her own mother, and the grannies too, 
 called her Biidget, instead of using her pet 
 name. 
 
 " Would you like all other children to grow 
 up too, and have only meL and women in the 
 world ? Oh, poor Bryda ! how dull you would 
 be ! Supposing I were to tell you a story 
 about a country where something of the soii; 
 happened ?" 
 
 " Please, please do !" cried Bryda ; " only 
 
MIXED PICKLESo 65 
 
 please, Uncle Jack, don't let it have a moral. 
 Miss Quillnib used to tell rae stories when it 
 was too wet to go out after lessons, and there 
 was always a moral — something about me, you 
 know. And that spoiled the story, just the 
 way powders spoil raspberry jam." 
 
 Uncle Jack laughed at his little niece's 
 fancies, then settled himself comfortably on the 
 garden seat, lit his pipe, and went on talking 
 between the puffs, telling his promised stoiy. 
 
 UNCLE jack's STOEY. 
 
 "Once upon a time," began Uncle Jack, 
 " since we know no fairy stories are worth hear- 
 ing unless they begin with * once upon a time.' 
 
 "Once upon a time there was a country ruled 
 over by a king and queen who had no children. 
 Having no children of their own, these sov- 
 ereigns thought other people's children a 
 nuisance. I am afraid they were like the fox, 
 who said the grapes were sour because he could 
 not reach them, for it was well known that they 
 wanted some of these * torments' very badly 
 themselves." 
 
66 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 *' Don't call us torments, Uncle Jack," intei 
 rupted his little niece. 
 
 "Well, you see, madam, historians must be 
 truthful. I am bound to say that the king and 
 queen passed a law in which the children were 
 described as ^ pickles, torments, plagues, bothers, 
 nuisances, womes,' and by twenty-four other 
 titles of respect which I have forgotten. This 
 law enacted : 
 
 "First — That the children were to be seen 
 and not heard. .Wherefore all children under 
 the age of sixteen were to speak in a whisper 
 and laugh in a whisper." 
 
 " They couldn't, Uncle Jack," broke in Bryda, 
 ^ they could only smile !" 
 
 " Or grin," said Uncle Jack. " So you think 
 that a cruel law, Bryda ? 
 
 " Secondly — As the sight of a child set the 
 royal teeth on edge, no child was to be allowed 
 to set foot out of doors, unless between the 
 hours of twelve and one on any night when 
 there was neither moon nor stars." 
 
 " At that rate they would iiever go out," said 
 Bryda. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 6t 
 
 " Well, you see this was a law for the aboli- 
 tion of children ; so they were to be suppressed 
 as much as possible, of course. 
 
 "Then, thirdly^ the law declared — That, as 
 little pitchers have long ears, no child should 
 ever hear the conversation of grown-up people. 
 Therefore children were never to be admitted 
 into any sitting-room used by the elders of the 
 family, nor into any kitchen or room occupied 
 by servants." 
 
 " 0-o-oh !" said Bryda ; " did they keep them 
 in the coal-cellar ?" 
 
 " In some houses, perhaps." 
 
 ''Fourthly — Forasmuch as play was not a 
 profitable occupation, and led to noise and 
 laughter, all play-time and holidays should at 
 once be abolished." 
 
 "That was a very bad law," said Bryda 
 warmly. 
 
 " Well, the law was passed, and was soon car 
 ried out ; and any one coming to the city would 
 have thought there were no children, so care- 
 fully were they kept out of sight. All the 
 toy shops were closed, and confectioners were 
 
68 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 ordered, under pain of death, neither to make 
 nor sell goodies. But one thing the king had 
 forgotten, and that was that, after all, there were 
 more children than grown people in the country. 
 One family had nine children, another six, and 
 so on; so that, counting the boarding-schools, 
 there were just three times as many children as 
 grown people in the capital. Well, after about 
 a week of this treatment (for the parents were 
 compelled under threat of instant execution to 
 carry it out), it happened that there came a 
 night when at twelve o'clock, though it was not 
 raining, there was neither moon nor star to be 
 seen. So all the children in the city rushed 
 forth into the park with Chinese lanterns in 
 their hands, making quite a fairy gathering 
 under the trees. Oh, how delicious it was ! 
 They ran and shouted, and played games and 
 laughed, till suddenly one o'clock struck; and all 
 the king's horses, and all the king's men, came 
 to drive them to their homes again. But there 
 were hundreds and hundreds of children, and 
 only a few soldiers with wooden swords; for 
 this was a very peaceable nation^ and arm^d 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 69 
 
 even its police with only birch rods. So one of 
 the biggest boys blew a tin trumpet, and called 
 all the children to him. 
 
 " ' 1 vote we rebel,' he said. ^ We will not 
 stand this any more; let us drive away all 
 the grown-ups, and have the town altogether to 
 ourselves.' 
 
 " Now it so happened that a fairy had been 
 watching all that went on in the town, and was 
 not at all pleased. So when she heard this bold 
 boy speak she tho'ight it would be a good thing 
 to let this rebellion be carried out. ' Serve 'em 
 right,' she said ; ^ young and old shall all learn 
 a lesson.' 
 
 " So she collected a few thousand fairies, and 
 they flew to all the king's men, and whispered 
 in their left ears dreadful things, which fright- 
 ened them terribly and made them believe an 
 immense army, instead of the troops of children, 
 was coming to crush them all. Then the fairies 
 whispered in their right ears that it would be 
 wise to fly to a neighboring mountain where 
 there was a large old fort, and there take refuge. 
 So they galloped off as fast as the king's horses 
 
70 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 would carry them. Then the fairies flew all 
 over the town and whispered the same things to 
 all the grown-up people — fathers and mothers, 
 old maids and old bachelors — till they, too, 
 tumbled out of bed, dressed in a terrible hurry, 
 and fled to the mountain. Even the king 
 jumped out of bed, tied up his crown in his 
 pocket-handkerchief, and ran for his life in his 
 dressing-gown, while two lords in waiting, or 
 gentlemen of the bedchamber, rushed after him 
 with the royal mantle of ermine, and the scepter 
 and golden ball. The lord chancellor filled his 
 pockets with new sovereigns from the mint (for 
 he slept there to look after the money) and then 
 he too ran, but rather slowly, for he had the 
 woolsack on liis back, and it was pretty heavy. 
 When they asked him why he took the trouble 
 he answered that he thought the ground might 
 be damp, and he already had a cold in his head. 
 " Well, all the elders being gone, the children 
 were left in possession of the city, at which you 
 may well suppose they were greatly astonished. 
 They went on with their games for awhile ; but 
 then the lanterns began to go out, and one after 
 
MIXED PICKLESo 71 
 
 another they grew very sleepy. So the boy 
 with the tin trumpet blew it again, and com- 
 manded that every one should now go to bed, 
 and that a meeting should be held at twelve 
 o'clock next day in the park, at which every 
 child should appear. 
 
 *^ Appear they did, in their Sunday clothes, 
 those of them at least who cared for finery ; 
 there were no mothers or nurses to object. All 
 were in great delight at having no one to rule 
 them. 
 
 " * I shall never go to bed at eight !' said one. 
 
 " ^ I shall never eat rice pudding — horrid 
 stuff!' 
 
 " * I shall never take any more doses !' 
 
 " ^ I shall never do any more lessons !' 
 
 "'Nor I! nor I! nor I!' shouted one after 
 another ; ' we shall all do only what we like ! 
 How happy we shall be !' 
 
 " Only one little maid whispered, with a tear 
 trembling on the long lashes of her blue eyes, 
 ' Dottie wants mother !' But Dottie was soon 
 comforted, and ran about as merrily as ever. 
 
 " Meantime the elder boys and girls held a 
 
n 
 
 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 very noisy Parliament, in whicli there were 
 never less than five speaking at once. After a 
 great deal of chatter they determined to set up 
 a queen ; and a very pretty little girl called 
 May was chosen, and crowned with a ciown of 
 flowei's. 
 
 *' Next, Queen May and her council of six, 
 
 three boys and three girls, ordered that a big 
 bonfire should be made of all lesson-books and 
 pinafores, for they thought pinafores were signs 
 of an inferior state, of being under command, 
 as servants sometimes think their caps are. 
 
 ^' The next law was that all the raspberry 
 jam in the city should be set aside for the use 
 of the queen and her court, and for those who 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 73 
 
 were invited to the royal tea parties. There 
 was a little grumbling about this, but finally 
 the grumblers gave in. All this time troops of 
 children came pouring in from the neighboring 
 villages with pinafores on the end of broom 
 sticks as flags of rebellion. Being pretty 
 hungry, they dispersed for dinner, which in most 
 of the houses was a very curious meal, as, of 
 course, no one could cook, so they had to forage 
 in the kitchens and storerooms, while bands of 
 hungry young folks stormed the confectioners' 
 shops, and dined off ices and wedding-cake. 
 
 "Then they opened the toy-shops and put 
 them in charge of parties of children and gradu- 
 ally the other shops were treated in the same 
 way, for buying and selling is always a game 
 children like, and it was such a treat to have real 
 things to sell. Only money was such a trouble : 
 they were always forgetting to bring any, and 
 the young shopkeepers never were sure if a 
 shilling or a sovereign was the right price for a 
 thing. Therefore they concluded to do without 
 it ; and costly things were bought for kisses, 
 while cheap ones were to be had for saying, ^ If 
 
74 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 you please,' or, if they were very small, as a 
 penny bun, for instance, then ^ please ' was 
 enough." 
 
 *' How nice !" said Bryda. 
 
 "Well, for a whole week there never was 
 such happiness as the children enjoyed. Games 
 from morning to night, bread and jam three 
 times a day, no lessons, no forbidden things, 
 and a queen of their own age in place of the 
 tyrant king. 
 
 " But when a week was over some little mur- 
 murs began to arise. Every morning, I ought 
 to say, the queen sat on her throne in the royal 
 palace, to receive any of her subjects who liked 
 playing at being courtiers, and she and her 
 council then settled any difficulty that arose 
 about rules of games, about the way to make 
 the best toffee and any other important ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "On this particular morning, then, rather 
 more than a week after the establishment of the 
 Children's Kingdom, a very large throng entered 
 the queen's presence. Foremost came a troop 
 of boys and girls, who led in a pale, serious- 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 75 
 
 looking hoy as a prisoner, and brought him to 
 Queen May's feet. 
 
 u i What is the charge against this prisoner V 
 asked the queen, with dignity. * Don't all 
 speak at once,' she added, so hastily that several 
 courtiers giggled. 
 
 *' * Please your majesty,' said a boy, stepping 
 forward, ' we caught him in the act — the very 
 act — of learning lessons !' 
 
 "^Lessons!' cried the whole court, in every 
 tone of disgust, anger, grief and dismay. 
 
 " ^ Lessons !' screamed the queen, and at once 
 fainted away." 
 
 "She didn't!" said Bryda iniiirnantly. 
 
 "Don't you think the shock was great 
 enough ?" asked Uncle Jack. " Besides, she 
 felt it part of her royal duty, perhaps. 
 
 " Anyhow, they tickled her with feathers, 
 and put burned cork to her nose till she had a 
 black mustache ; and one boy brought a red-hot 
 poker, which he said he had heard was a good 
 thing, though he did not quite know how it was 
 applied. 
 
 "It was the best remedy, certainly, for on its 
 
76 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 appearance the queen jumped up shrieking, and 
 declared she was perfectly vvelh 
 
 ^'Theu the queen proceeded to try the 
 prisonei', and requested the whole court to act 
 as jury. It was a very sad case of youthful 
 depravity — the criminal had carefully kept this 
 one book, ' Somebody's Arithmetic,' or ^ Hang- 
 nail's Questions,' to gloat over in secret ; and 
 even now was not at all penitent, but declared, 
 when asked what he had to say for liimself, that 
 it was ' stupid, and a bore,' to play games all 
 day long, and he was sick of them. 
 
 " The jury could not agree as to what was to 
 be done with such an offender, and so he was 
 allowed to go, and bidden 'not to do it again,' 
 and the queen went on to the next difficulty. 
 Here the throne-room became quite full of 
 children, all in great perplexity ; for the matter 
 was this, that the food supply was running 
 short. The confectioners' sliops were nearly 
 empty ; there was plenty of jam, but very little 
 bread ; and one or two boys, who had break- 
 fasted on jam out of a pot, eaten willi a spoon, 
 said, ' They didn't know how it could be, but 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 'J'^ 
 
 somehow they thought it did not quite agree 
 with them.' 
 
 "This was really very serious. Could no one 
 cook? 
 
 " Well, several had tried to make puddings ; 
 but somehow, though they ought to have been 
 quite right, sometliing was wr(mg, and no one 
 would eat them. One girl had bravely made 
 some apple-dumplings, and baked them quite 
 brown ; but then she could not find out how to 
 get the apple in, so they were no more than 
 hard balls, and not real apple-dumplings at all. 
 
 "'What are we going to do?' said Queen 
 May sorrowfully. 
 
 "A dead silence reigned. 
 
 "'I know !' said a boy called Eric, starting 
 forward suddenly, and all eyes turned to this 
 ow^ier of a bright idea. 'I know!' he said, 
 brandishing a many-bladed knife ; ' I'll kill a 
 pig !' 
 
 " A murmur of horror arose from the girls. 
 
 ' " Oh, no !' said Queen May politely ; ' my 
 faithful subject, we will not let you make your- 
 self so miserable." 
 
78 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 "^Oh, 7 don't mind!' cried Eric; 'really, 
 you know, I should lihe it !' 
 
 I'll hold him for you !' cried several bo}'s 
 at once. 
 
 " ^ Quite as if they liked it,' whispered the 
 girls. 
 
 "But Queen May interposed, and said the 
 court should break up and go to blind-man's- 
 buff. At the same hour next day any one who 
 had a bright idea should come and tell it. For 
 the rest of the day she, at least, did not mean 
 to bother her head. If a pig were killed, it 
 would have to be cooked. And shaking her 
 curls, which were like a crown of gold, Queen 
 May jumped off her throne and ran out into 
 the park. 
 
 " Presently the Fairy Set-'em-right came fly- 
 ing over the town, and saw all the child I'en 
 running about and shrieking with laughter. 
 
 " ' Bless my broomstick !' she said, for she 
 had borrowed one from a witch to fly upon, 
 saying she had rheumatism in her left wing. 
 ' Bless my broomstick ! this won't do at all !' 
 
 " She did iiot notice that a great many chil- 
 
The fairy came flying over the town.— Page 78. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 79 
 
 dren were standing about in groups, whisper- 
 ing — what they dared not say aloud — that they 
 were getting tired of games all day, and of 
 nothing to eat but sweet cakes and jam at 
 meals. 
 
 " ^ I should really, really and truly, like some 
 boiled mutton,' said Master Archie, who was 
 known to have had a special dislike to that 
 dish. 
 
 "^I know what I shall do,' said the fairy; 
 ^' I shall make these children feel like grow^n- 
 ups, and then I shall fly off to the mountain, 
 and make the grown-ups feel like children : 
 and if that doesn't bring them to their senses, 
 I am sure I don't know what will.'" 
 
 At this exciting point a servant came to 
 tell Uncle Jack that grandfather wanted him, 
 and he went oif whistling, promising Bryda the 
 rest of the story "next time." 
 
 But as she did not know when " next time" 
 w^ould be, it was rather provoking. 
 
80 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BEPPO. 
 
 Bryda sat still where Uncle Jack had left 
 her, thinking over his story. 
 
 " You see, my dear," she said to herself (Bryda 
 had a funny way of calling herself *^ my dear" 
 when she talked to herself, and told herself 
 stories, or read herself little moral lectures as 
 Miss Quillnib her governess used to do); 
 *'You see, my dear, the thing is this: when 
 any one tells a story they can make things 
 happen so that there shall always be a good 
 moral. Now, I am sure that town in the story 
 would be a veiy nice place, but Uncle Jack is 
 sure to make everything go wrong !" 
 
 Here nurse came and carried Miss Bryda off 
 for a walk. They went through the village, 
 and old Roger was at his work. The house- 
 door was open, and he nodded a pleasant 
 " Good-day." 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 81 
 
 Bryda lingered a moment. 
 
 " Isn't this a nice day, Roger V she said. 
 
 "Ay, ay, little miss," answered the carpenter, 
 "it's one of the Lord's own days. He doesn't 
 give us too many of them, for fear we'd get too 
 fond o' this place, and not be in a hurry to go 
 to our Father's house." 
 
 Nurse had stopped to talk to the blacksmith. 
 It was funny, but she always had something 
 special to tell the blacksmith; and he would 
 keep a horse waiting ever so long to be shod 
 while they talked, though really they never 
 seemed to say anything very interesting. 
 
 However, Bryda knew she would have some 
 time to herself, so she walked into old Roger's 
 cottage, and sat down on a bench among the 
 sawdust and shavings. 
 
 " I suppose you are very poor, aren't you, 
 Roger ?" she asked, after watching him silently 
 for some time. 
 
 " Poor, missy ? Well, maybe some folks 'ud 
 think so, but there's no man in the village 
 richer, for all that !" 
 
 " Then why don't you have a grander house ?'' 
 
82 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 " I'll go to my grand house by aud byj 
 missy/' he answered, driving a screw carefully. 
 " Ah ! a grand house that is indeed ! It's 
 making ready for me all this time ; but when 
 once I go, I'll not come back here again !" 
 
 " I should think not !" answered Bryda, look- 
 ing round the poor cottage. "Is it a palace, 
 Roger?" Bryda's idea of a palace was some- 
 thing very splendid — golden tables, and silver 
 chairs, and all the rest of the furniture to 
 match. 
 
 " Ay, you may well call it a palace ! There's 
 no house hereabouts would match that one," 
 answered Roger, in his cheery voice. 
 
 " Does any one else live there ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! All my brothers and sisters — the 
 children of the King." 
 
 "Miss Bryda! Miss Bryda! You trouble- 
 some child !" called the nurse's voice. '* Come 
 along, this minute ! wherever have you got to 
 — poking in them low places ?" 
 
 "Nurse did not think the forge a low place," 
 thought Bryda, but she was obliged to go. 
 
 " Nurae," she said, when that worthy person 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 83 
 
 had done scolding, "do you know, I am sure I 
 may go and see that old carpenter, for he is not 
 a common man at all, but a prince in disguise 
 Only fancy ! Just like a fairy tale !" 
 
 "Fairy grandmother!" said nurse, who was 
 not in the best of tempers; and they went on 
 tor some way in silence through the village. 
 
 A little outside the village stood a neat white 
 house, in which the doctor lived, and in front of 
 this a woman in an Italian dress was turning 
 the handle of a barrel-organ, while a handsome 
 boy of five or six, or perhaps older — for though 
 small, he had an old look in his face — stood 
 holding a little tin mug to collect pennies. 
 There were no pennies in it ; the woman looked 
 dreadfully pale and ill, and coughed without 
 stopping, and the child's big, black eyes looked 
 very sorrowful. 
 
 The doctor's servant came out of the white 
 house, and roughly ordered them away, with 
 abuse which shocked Bryda to hear. 
 
 Evidently the kind doctor was not at home, 
 for he would have been sorry for the poor sick 
 woman, who was trying to earn a few pence 
 
84 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 when any one who was better off would have 
 been in bed, carefully nursed. 
 
 Bryda had a penny ; she meant to buy sugar- 
 candy, but she dropped it into the little tin, and 
 was rewarded by a bright smile on the little 
 face, and "Tank you, signorina ;" by which the 
 little boy meant, " Thank you, miss." That 
 was nicer than sugar-candy. 
 
 " I can't abide f urriners," said nurse. " Aren't 
 there any little white children for you to give 
 your money to. Miss Bryda, without encourag- 
 ing those outlandish folks to beg ?" 
 
 Bryda did not answer ; she was wondering if 
 the Lord would think her penny of any use for 
 His poor. It was a very little coin, but it was 
 all she had then. It would buy a bit of bread ; 
 and, perhaps, one of the *' few small fishes " was 
 not- worth much more. 
 
 As they came home again Bryda saw the 
 same woman and child toilincj alono^ the road in 
 front of them, entering the village again. 
 
 The woman staggered under the weight of 
 her barrel-organ ; she seemed very faint and 
 weak ; either she must be very ill, or she had 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 85 
 
 had no proper food. Perhaps both misfortunes 
 were hers. 
 
 A baker's man went riding by with some 
 J oaves in a l)asket. As he passed the Italian 
 woman the horse seemed frightened, either at 
 her white sleeves or at the instrument she 
 carried, and Bryda saw him sway violent and 
 throw one of the loaves out upon the road. The 
 baker did not miss it, and rode on faster, beating 
 his horse. 
 
 But the little Italian boy sprang at it ; and 
 Bryda felt sure he was cruelly hungry from the 
 way in which he seized the bread and put it 
 to his mouth. He did not bite it though, but 
 changing his mind, ran to his mother, and held 
 it out. 
 
 " Madre mia, pane r he cried. " My mother, 
 bread !" he meant. 
 
 The lad's mother looked at the loaf of bread 
 for a moment — only a moment ; then she shook 
 her head, and spoke to the child in Italian. The 
 baker had stopped at a house by the roadside ; 
 the boy was off like the vnnd, and soon came 
 up breathless, and handed him the loaf. 
 
86 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 The baker was a kind-hearted man, and gave 
 the child a roll, with which he rau back to his 
 mother. Then he broke it in two and offered 
 her the large half, beginning at once to munch 
 the otlier himself. The mother took a little of 
 the piece he had given her, but she seemed too 
 faint and weak to eat more than a mouthful. 
 
 By this time Bryda and her nurse had over- 
 taken them. 
 
 " Little boy," said Bryda shyly, all her pity 
 roused by the scene, " where do you live ?" 
 
 The child was not shy ; he looked her full in 
 the face with his big black eyes, and pointed to 
 the village. 
 
 " In house-yesterday-next-day," he said in his 
 broken English. 
 
 " You are living there for a few days, are 
 you?'' asked Bryda, puzzled. 
 
 The boy nodded. 
 
 " Do tell me your name ?" she asked again. 
 
 " Beppo, signorina." 
 
 Here nurse again interposed. She was a 
 cross-grained woman, very faithful to her duty, 
 but with little sympathy to spare, and she did 
 
Little boy," said Bryda shyly, " where do you live?"— Page 86. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 87 
 
 not at all approve of " Miss Bryda's notions," 
 about caring for the poor. 
 
 " When you get your governess and plenty of 
 lessons to do, you won't be so anxious about 
 them low creatures, miss," she told Bryda. 
 "Learn to play tunes on the piano, and paint 
 pictures like other young ladies — that's what 
 you've got to think about." 
 
 But poor little Bryda, though she often, as 
 we have seen, got into trouble and mischief (for 
 she was not at all a model little girl), did really 
 want to serve the Lord Jesus, of whose great 
 love she had learned, and her great wish was to 
 know what a little girl could do for Him. 
 
 The Lord Jesus was always helping the poor, 
 and she knew His faithful servants did the 
 same, so it was a sad puzzle to her to find such 
 treatment as Moll Dawson's, when she tried to 
 do some good. Perhaps Uncle Jack was right, 
 and she ought not to have tried to do what was 
 only grown people's work. 
 
 But here was this little Italian boy. He 
 looked sad, and seemed hungry and very poor, 
 and his mother was so ill. How sad it was ! 
 
88 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Bryda knelt by the window when she came 
 home, and looked up at the beautiful blue sky, 
 where a happy lark was singing — so high up 
 he ought to be nearly at the doors of heaven. 
 
 "Oar Father," she prayed, "let me help 
 Beppo a little, for Jesus Christ's sake." 
 
 And this little prayer of "one of His little 
 ones" went straight to the ear of the loving 
 Father, who is Iways more ready to hear than 
 we to pray ; and very soon it was answered. 
 
 God has so much work for hands, and brains, 
 and tongues, and feet. In this world a ehihl 
 who loves " helping mother," can do many a 
 little thing for her, and the work is sooner done, 
 because of such small lielps. And so the great 
 Father, who uses the little dewdrops to water 
 His thirsty world, will give to every happy, 
 willing worker something to do, little works for 
 the little ones, more to His great angels, and at 
 last heaven shall be full of "servants" who 
 "serve Him" and see His face, and are never 
 sorrowful, or stupid, or tired, or disappointed in 
 anything any more. 
 
 When Bryda had asked God to let her lielp 
 
" Our Father," Bryda prayed, " let me help Beppo."— Page 88. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 89 
 
 Beppo she felt much happier. She would talk 
 by and by to Cousin Salome about him. 
 
 Meantime she had the greatest of all treats, 
 for in the afternoon Uncle Jack was going to 
 drive in his dogcart, with Paddy in the shafts ; 
 and the pace at which Paddy went was what 
 Uncle Jack called "greased lightning." Any- 
 how, it was something very different from the 
 solemn jog, jog, jog, one, two, three, four, one, 
 two, three, four, of Gog and Magog, when the 
 grannies took her out, and old John dozed on 
 the box. 
 
 "It's so dull to have to drive alone," said 
 Uncle Jack at lunch, with a heavy sigh. 
 
 " Call for Captain Tomkins, and take him 
 out," said grandmother. 
 
 "I'm so shy," answered Uncle Jack sadly. 
 " But if I could find a young lady, a very young 
 lady of about eight or so, to come with rae^^ " 
 
 " Oh ! Uncle Jack, take me !" burst out 
 Bryda. And so he did ; and best of all, when 
 they were fairly started. Uncle Jack lit a big 
 cigar, and between the puffs went on with bio 
 fairy tale. 
 
90 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE BEST OF THE STOKY. 
 
 " So the Faiiy Set-'era-right waved her hand 
 over the troop of child i-en. ^ You shall all feel 
 like grown-up people/ she said. 
 
 " In a few minutes a strange change began to 
 come over them all. A great game of * blind- 
 man's -buff' was going on, when suddenly 
 several of the girls put themselves into very 
 stiff, solemn attitudes, just like old maids, and 
 said, 'Really, they thought they were almost 
 afraid they could not play any more. Such 
 games, especially at their time of life, were 
 hardly quite proper.' So they would not go 
 on. Others, again, declared that tliere was 
 nothing they so thoroughly enjoyed as watch- 
 ing people playing at these kind of amusements ; 
 but for themselves — well, if the others did not 
 mind, they would like just to sit quietly and 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 91 
 
 watcb. So tliey did, and presently some of the 
 boys began stroking that part of their faces 
 wheio a mustache might some day grow, and 
 remarking that ^ Haw ! don't know, you know 
 — a — this sort of thing was all very well for 
 schoolboys, but really — a — we could not, you 
 know.' " 
 
 This sentence Uncle Jack brought out with 
 a very funny drawl, the boys being turned into 
 dreadfully fashionable fellows. 
 
 "The crowning point," continued Uncle 
 Jack, ^^ was reached when the blind man, push- 
 ing down his bandage, stood still, and addressed 
 this altered crowd very seriously indeed. 
 * What miserable folly is this V he asked. 
 ' Shall we mortals waste our precious flying 
 moments in — in what, my brethren?' 
 
 " You see he had turned into a preacher," ex- 
 plained Uncle Jack. 
 
 " ^ In what a miserable, frivolous occupation ! 
 catching each other ! — nay, only trying to catch 
 each other ! Poor fools and blind ! let us cease, 
 I say — ' But he had no one to say it to, for 
 the whole audience had gone oif in different 
 
93 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 directions, and the preacher had only his little 
 brother of five left to listen to his wise words. 
 ' Come along, Tommy,' said he, * I will try and 
 find some one for you to play with, little man.' 
 
 ^* ^ Play with !' answered the little brother 
 in a tone of utter surprise. ^My dear sir, I 
 have no time to play. Letters, telegrams, 
 appointments by scores fill my time. Let me 
 tell yon, sir, there is no busier man than your 
 humble servant in tlie whole country.' 
 
 '^With which he turned about and strode off 
 with the longest strides his little legs in their 
 blue sailor trousers could take ; for he had be- 
 come a man of business. 
 
 " ' This is too absurd,' muttered the elder, and 
 went off to look for the church of which he was 
 vicar. 
 
 ^' The same remarkable change came over all 
 the children. One little brat wdio was busy 
 teasing an unfortunate kitten stopped suddenly, 
 and rushed off in search of pen and paper, with 
 which he returned, and began at once to com- 
 pose an ode * To Tabitha.' 
 
Tommy had now become a poet.— Page 98. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 93 
 
 '* * Fairest pussy ever seen! 
 
 With mine eyes of clearest green. 
 Fly me not/ 
 
 That was how it began, for he had become a 
 poet." 
 
 "I thought poets wrote about knights and 
 ladies, and green fields and the moon," remon- 
 strated Bryda. 
 
 '^ So they do. But sometimes they want a 
 new subject, and this young genius thought he 
 had found one. 
 
 "Well, all the children, without losing their 
 child faces and figures, turned into the sort of 
 people they would be when they were grown 
 up. So of course their games seemed very dull, 
 and they wanted grown-up occupations. But 
 not knowing quite how to set to work, they 
 were all lounging vaguely about, when the clear 
 notes of a bugle sounded through the city. 
 
 "This was the well-known signal for the 
 assembling of the whole population in the park, 
 and off went all these queer grown-up children 
 to the place of meeting. Here they were met 
 
94 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 by Queen May, who sat on a garden-chair with 
 her court around her, all looking very solemn. 
 
 " ^ My faithful subjects,' said the queen, * I 
 have sent for you to consider a very grave 
 question. I regret to state that the affairs of 
 this kingdom are in a condition which will, 
 perhaps, be best described as unsatisfactory.' 
 
 " * Hear, hear !' said a gentleman of four, bow- 
 ing gravely. 
 
 " * Hear, hear !' echoed many voices. 
 
 "^Perhaps the most unsatisfactory point is,' 
 went on Queen May, who, you see, talked in 
 very grown-up language, * is, I say, the banish- 
 ment of a large portion of the population ; that 
 portion, in fact, which we were formerly accus- 
 tomed to call our elders and betters.' 
 
 " Cries of ' No, no !' 
 
 " Queen May went on to explain that after 
 all they got on badly without these elders. 
 With all their efforts the young folks had not 
 strength or skill to do a variety of things, 
 without which the round of life seemed likely 
 soon to come to a standstill. So she proposed 
 that she and all who would go should start at 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 95 
 
 once for the mountain and fetch home the 
 exiles. 
 
 "There was some murmuring at this. The 
 old law might be carried out, and the children 
 made wretched again. 
 
 " ^ And — why, bless me,' said an elderly per- 
 son of nine, as he fixed on a double eyeglass 
 with gold rims, ^they might actually want to 
 send me, rae ! to bed at eight o'clock !' 
 
 u i Pi^oper conditions would be made,' the 
 queen said. 
 
 "One after another all the objections were 
 overcome, and a long pi'ocession started, with 
 Queen May, mounted on a white pony, at its 
 head. 
 
 "On arriving at the mountain they were 
 greatly surprised to meet the king, that stern 
 tyrant who wanted to stop all fun, running as 
 hard as his legs could carry his fat body, with 
 his crown on the back of his liead, and a green 
 net-bag tied on to the end of his scepter, chasing 
 a white butterfly. 
 
 "* Please, your majesty,' began Queen May 
 shyly; but the king only looked round for a 
 
96 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 moment, and ran on, then tumbled over a furze 
 bush, so that his crown rolled far away, and the 
 butterfly escaped, while he lay there kicking. 
 
 "The children were very much surprised at 
 this, and thought the king must have gone mad, 
 and, in fact, they felt very penitent, for they 
 supposed his hurried flight must have been too 
 much for the brain, so they were to blame for 
 this terrible alteration. 
 
 " A little further on, however, they were still 
 more surprised to see a circle of the most serious 
 old maids in the whole capital, ladies whose 
 time was mostly spent in making flannel gar- 
 ments for the poor, or sitting at neat tea-tables 
 with neat curls on each side of their faces, and 
 a neat cat, curled on a neat cushion, in a neat 
 chair, close at hand, and these old ladies were 
 all screaming and laughing like children. 
 
 "These very respectable old ladies now looked 
 anything but neat! Their curls were flying in 
 all directions, and they were screaming with 
 laughter, pinching each other, and making all 
 sorts of silly jokes over a furious game of *hunt 
 the slipper.' For you see they had gone back 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 97 
 
 to what they used to like when they were 
 children. 
 
 " Queen May looked at them gravely. 
 
 " * Dear friends,' she said, ^ at your age, is this 
 decorous ? Is it proper ? Is it even ladylike V 
 
 " ' There it is ! Catch it ! Catch it !' cried 
 one of the old ladies. 
 
 " ^ Come and play with us !' cried another. 
 
 " None of the rest paid any attention to the 
 serious looks of the grown-up children, who went 
 sadly on toward the fort, hoping to find some 
 one more reasonable. 
 
 " The next person they saw was the lord 
 chancellor, a l>ald, stout old gentleman, who was 
 sitting on the woolsack, which, you remember, 
 he had carried away on his back. He was very 
 busy with a pipe, and the children thought he 
 was smoking, and grew more hopeful. He 
 might have some trace of good sense left, they 
 thought, if he could care for such a grown-up 
 pursuit." 
 
 Here Uncle Jack offered his cigar to Biyda 
 politely ; but she made a face and turned her 
 head away. 
 
98 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 '* I don't want to be so grown-up as tlmt^'^ she 
 said. 
 
 *' Oh !" said Uncle Jack, with his funny face, 
 that he always put on to tease Bryda. *^0h, I 
 thought you wanted to grow up all of a sudden." 
 
 " Well — only for some things," answered she, 
 feeling that Uncle Jack was taking a mean 
 advantage in remembering her sayings, and 
 bringing them up again. " Please go on," she 
 added hastily. 
 
 Uncle Jack winked at her very slowly and 
 solemnly ; then took a good puff at his cigar, 
 and went on. 
 
 ^' When they came up he was found to be 
 blowing soap-bubbles ! 
 
 ^' ' A-ah r he spluttered, trying to talk with 
 the pipe in his mouth. *D-don't break it, 
 please ! There !' as the bubble burst and 
 vanished ; ^ it's too bad, I declare ! Directly I 
 get a really good one, big and bright, that 
 always happens. Have a try,' he added, offer- 
 ing Queen May the pipe. 
 
 "'I say, my lord,' said the major-general 
 commanding the royal army, coming up at the 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 99 
 
 moment, ' can you tell me how to mend lead 
 soldiers? I've tried gum and glue, and one of 
 the maids of honor tried to sew one, but some- 
 how they don't join properly. It's a horrid 
 bore, and that fellow, the speaker, won't let me 
 have a ride on his rocking-horse. I'd punch 
 him, only he's six feet three, and as broad as 
 he's long. So I don't know what to play at.' 
 
 "*It is slow,' answered the lord chancellor, 
 pityingly. * Never mind, old chap, come up to 
 the fort and we'll make some toffee.' 
 
 ^^ So the elderly gentlemen went off arm-in^ 
 arm, and Queen May shook her head sadly. 
 
 " ^ They are all mad, poor things ! What are 
 we to do V 
 
 " * Hi ! hi !' cried a voice, and looking round 
 they saw that tall, handsome nobleman, the 
 master of the horse, running toward them as 
 fast as he could. At last, perhaps, they had 
 found some one to speak sensibly to. 
 
 " ' Hi ! you fellows,' he cried breathlessly ; 
 " stop a minute, will you ? Is that a circus pony ? 
 and can he do tricks ? Sit up with a hat on, 
 and drink out of teacups, I mean.' 
 
100 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 " * Certainly not,' replied Queen May, with 
 her utmost dignity. ^I hardly understand, 
 Lord Moyers, how you can ask such a strange 
 question. Did you ever see a lady, especially 
 if she were a crowned queen, riding a circus 
 pony V 
 
 "Lord Moyers giggled, and turned head-over 
 heels on the spot, after w^hich he rushed off 
 again to join the rest of the House of Lords, who 
 were playing ^ hi ! cockalorum,' close by. 
 
 ^^ The procession went on very sorrowfully 
 toward the fort. It grieved them to see this 
 frivolity in those to whom they had been taught 
 to look up. 
 
 " * Alas, my country !' sighed Eric, the boy 
 who, you remember, had proposed to kill the 
 pig before he was touched with the fairy wand. 
 
 "Perhaps it was on arriving at the gates of 
 the fort that the very strangest sight was seen. 
 The queen was a very stout and middle-aged 
 person, of rather stern countenance, and here 
 she was busy with a skipping rope — her hair 
 loose, her royal robes tucked up, and her crown 
 on one side. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 101 
 
 " ' It's the best fun and the finest exercise in 
 the world,' she gasped. ^ If I could only skip 
 twice to one turn of the rope !' 
 
 "And on she went, while the children 
 watched. But there was something so utterly 
 ridiculous about the sight that Queen May and 
 her followers, after various vain efforts to 
 suppress their mirth, burst into one peal of 
 laughter, which rang merrily through the old 
 fort, and over the hillside. 
 
 ^' It broke the charm, and in a moment the 
 children became children again, and the grown 
 people became as they were before. 
 
 " There was a large flat field on the moun- 
 tain top, in front of the gates of the old fort, 
 and here all the exiles were in a few minutes 
 assembled. 
 
 " The king was about to address them, when 
 in a moment, no one knowing how she came 
 there, the Fairy Set-'em-right stood among them, 
 close beside his majesty. 
 
 " ^ You have all learned a lesson, and I » will 
 put in into words for you,' she said." 
 
 " Oh, dear !" interrupted Bryda, " here comes 
 
103 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 the moral ! Don't make a very hard one, Uncle 
 Jack, please !" 
 
 He laughed. "I must finish this truthful 
 story truthfully, miss. 
 
 " She said, turning to the king and queen : 
 
 " ^ Your fault was that you forgot you once 
 were young yourselves.' " 
 
 Bryda nodded her head very wisely. 
 
 "^And you, children, forgot that you could 
 not do without old people. That wicked law is 
 at once repealed.' 
 
 "^Certainly, ma'am,' said the king, bowing. 
 
 " ' Children are to be children, and behave as 
 such, and be treated as such. Parents are par- 
 ents, the children are not to forget that. Now 
 go home all of you, and don't forget this one 
 one caution, Tve got my eye on yon^ 
 
 " With these awful words the fairy vanished. 
 And that's the end of the story." 
 
 " And a very nice ending, too !" said Bryda. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 103 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A PRINCE IN DISGUISE. 
 
 More good-tempered than usual next morn- 
 ing, nurse was easily persuaded by Bryda that 
 the village would be quite the nicest direction 
 for a walk. She wanted to see that nice old 
 Roger again, and perhaps they might even meet 
 Beppo. She begged a roll left from breakfast, 
 and put it, wrapped in a sheet of old copy-book, 
 with some pennies, in her pocket. 
 
 The blacksmith was in his forge, and had 
 some very important news for nurse, and Roger 
 was outside his door busily weaving the cane 
 seat of a chair he had made, for he was a jack- 
 of-two- trades, if not of all trades, and made 
 chairs from beginning to end. 
 
 " Good morning, Roger," said Bryda, as she 
 came up. 
 
 " Good morning, missy. A good morning it 
 
104 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 is, though not like yesterday. That was a sort 
 o' wedding day, with the world in a green dress, 
 covered wdth jewels made of dewdrops, while 
 the birds sang a hymn, and the great gold sun 
 came in his best blue dress to marry her," 
 answered the poetical Roger. 
 
 '' And to-day, Roger ? What's that like ?" 
 
 *^ Ah ! to-day's a good honest workiii' day, 
 missy, made for the busy bees and all the 
 Lord's workin' folk." 
 
 " Cats aren't working folk," said Bryda, strok- 
 ing Roger's sleek tabby. 
 
 " Maybe cats' work is to keep lone folk 
 company, missy," said the disguised prince, for 
 as such his little friend always thought of him. 
 
 ^' Shall you have cats in } our palace ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "That'll be as the king pleases, missy. I do 
 hope so, for I be main fond o' cats." 
 
 " Is taV)})y very old ? she's very lazy." 
 
 " I don't ricrhtlv know how old she is. You 
 see, missy, nigh on two years ago my house cat 
 died. Well, I suppose the village cats told 
 each other when they met on the house-tops at 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 105 
 
 night. Anyhow I never could open my door of 
 a morning that there wasn't one cat, or maybe 
 two and three cats, applying for the situation, 
 each one with a first-rate character from his last 
 place. 
 
 Bryda laughed heartily. '' How did they 
 tell you?" 
 
 " How ? Why, bless you, little miss, it's 
 often easier to know what God Almighty's 
 brutes mean than what men mean, for all we 
 call the brutes dumb. Tell me all about it 
 they did, rubbin' against me and purrin', how 
 the master of one had gone away, and the mis- 
 tress of another was dead; and how one was a 
 real good mouser, and another was that honest 
 he'd rather starve than steal. 
 
 ^' Well, the long and short of it is, missy, I 
 took Mrs. Tabby for a month on trial, to see if 
 she'd make a good housekeeper. An' we suited, 
 she and I, and she's never given me warning 
 yet, nor I her, so I don't think we'll part com- 
 pany till I go home.'"' 
 
 " When are you going, Roger ?" asked Bryda. 
 She could not help puzzling a good deal over 
 
106 
 
 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 this story of the old man's, about his palace 
 home; but he spoke so simply and naturally 
 that she could not doubt that he spoke the 
 truth. 
 
 " I don't rightly know," he answered slowly ; 
 
 " I'm thinking when it's ready they'll let me 
 know. But I'd be main glad to stay a little 
 longer now, Miss Bryda, for all I've often 
 wearied to be there. Shall I show you why ?" 
 
 " Please do." 
 
 The old carpenter got up and opened a door 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 107 
 
 opposite to that which led to his own little 
 room, and there Bryda saw a touching sight. 
 
 The poor Italian woman was sitting propped 
 up with pillows in a straight-ljacked old arm- 
 chair, with Beppo in her arms. The child 
 seemed to have grown sleepy after play, or per- 
 haps, like his countrymen, he was accustomed 
 to take a nap at midday. At all events he was 
 sleeping, and the poor sick mother was gently 
 rocking the heavy boy, and singing a soft little 
 Italian cradle song : 
 
 "Ninni, ninni, ninni, nanna, 
 Ninni, nanna, ninni, nolu, 
 Allegrezza di la mamma, 
 Addormentati, oh figliolu.^' 
 
 That is 
 
   Joy of thy mother. 
 
 Fall asleep, oh, my little son!*' 
 
 How white she looked and how weary ! She 
 laid her finger on her lip, and looked at the 
 curly black head on her knee. Roger closed the 
 door softly, and went back to his seat on tip- 
 toe. 
 
108 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 " I think, missy," he said, " it won't be long 
 before the Everlasting Arms are put round her, 
 to soothe her gently to sleep, as she do the little 
 'un." 
 
 " Is she dying, Roger V asked Bryda, in an 
 awe-struck voice. 
 
 " Ay," answered the carpenter, wiping his 
 spectacles, which had suddenly grown dim. 
 "That little black head'll not long have a 
 mother to lean against ; though she'll want for 
 nothing as I can get her ; and doctor, he sent 
 her full two pints o' stuff, all for nothing. But 
 he shook his head, he did, and I know what he 
 means by that only too well ; he did it to my 
 Liz twenty-five years ago, come March next." 
 
 Bryda felt very sorrowful. Her own mother 
 had gone to India, but then she wrote letters, 
 nice long ones, every week. And she would 
 come back. But poor Bepjio would have no 
 letter from his mother if once she went away, 
 as she knew Roger's loved \vife Liz had done, 
 for there was an old gravestone by the old 
 church door with that one little word roughly 
 cut upon it — "Liz." And on it last Sunday 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 109 
 
 she had seen the old man lay a bunch of fresh 
 flowers, as he passed in to pray. 
 
 '^ Will you share your riches with her, Koger 
 — that money you told me you had stored 
 away ?" she asked. 
 
 "My hid treasure, missy? Ah, that I will ! 
 There's so much o' that — ah, so much ! — that I 
 might share it wi' every soul as passed the door 
 and be none the worse off myseF," 
 
 " You won't want it in your palace, will you? 
 Or is there more of it there ? Chests and chests 
 of precious things all the palaces in fairy tales 
 have in them. But they are only made up," 
 added Bryda, with a little sigh. That's the 
 worst of fairy tales. But your treasures are 
 really true, aren't they, Roger ?" 
 
 " True when all else is false, missy ; safe 
 when all else is lost; real when all else is a 
 sham." 
 
 Bryda longed to ask more about this 
 wonderful wealth of the old man who looked 
 so poor. He must be a miser, she thought. 
 
 " Roger, are all the king's sons as rich as you 
 are ? and his daughters? or are you the eldest ?" 
 
110 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 "There's enough for all alike, missy. No 
 one's too rich or too poor in our Father's bouse. 
 But our Elder Brother, missy, there's none like 
 him — none. The only wonder is as he isn't 
 ashamed of his sisters and brothers, so far as 
 he is above them, and so much greater than 
 ever since his work was finished." 
 
 " Oh, do tell me about him ! Oh, nurse ! 
 don't go on yet, please !" implored Bryda, as 
 nurse came up the little garden-path with hasty 
 step. 
 
 But nurse would not stay. She always said 
 she " couldn't abide that old Methody carpen- 
 ter ; " and the real reason of her dislike was 
 that once before, when she bad brought Bryda 
 to stay with tbe grannies, old Eoger had said 
 something she did not care to hear, because she 
 had helped to spread a cruel mischief-making 
 story about tbe village. 
 
 So Bryda left her roll and her pence with 
 Roger, and went on with nurse. 
 
 Bryda bad not seen the last of Beppo for 
 that day. There was a private walk through 
 the grounds, which led to the church. The 
 
MIXED PICKLES. Ill 
 
 grannies could not walk so far, and the old car- 
 riage always came to take them to churcli. 
 But this afternoon, as Bryda was w^andering in 
 the garden, it struck her that she would like to 
 take some flowers and put them on the grave of 
 Koger's dear Liz. It would please the old man 
 to see them there. 
 
 Bryda, of course, had never seen Liz. 
 
 "But I know exactly what she was like," she 
 told herself. " She was not very tall, but just 
 nice; and she had violet eyes and long black 
 lashes, and pretty rosy cheeks — not too red, but 
 pink like a peach. Oh, I know she was nice! 
 And she always wore a brown gown, and a red 
 handkerchief crossed on her chest. And I 
 don't wonder Roger loved her. I should, too, 
 for she always spoke gently, not like nurse." 
 
 So Bryda grew quite fond of the Liz she had 
 thus invented while she gathered her flowers. 
 
 "I wonder what flower Liz was like? Cousin 
 Salome says we ought all to be like flowers 
 in God's garden. If we are, I'd rather be like 
 some flowers than others. Here is a tall orange 
 lily. Oh, you great, showy thing ! How stiff 
 
112 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 and proud you are ! And I tell you you're not 
 so very pretty, after all," said Bryda severely. 
 
 The orange lily did not seem to mind in the 
 least, but stood up just as proudly as ever. 
 
 ^' You poppies, red and white," went on Bryda, 
 "you have much nicer manners: you're like 
 ladies who are polite as well, and say nicely, 
 ^How do you do, Mr. Jones? Will you sell me 
 some chickens, please V You yellow flowers — I 
 don't know your name — you're very nice till 
 one comes close, and then you smell horrid. I 
 think you are like people who are very polite 
 to strangers, but are nasty and cross at home, 
 and slap when they play games. 
 
 " You, dear roses," she went on, talking to all 
 the flowers in turn, "you are really too lovely ! 
 But I mustn't put you on Liz's grave, because 
 the grannies don't like you gathered ; you are 
 like beautiful ladies in pictures, who get prettier 
 and prettier if you go on looking at them 
 
 " Here are pansies — hearts'ease, nurse calls 
 them. That is the right flower for Liz ! She 
 was Sv> gentle, and good, and kind that she 
 made every one happy. If you fell down and 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 113 
 
 were hurt, or if you had that horrid ache all 
 over, that comes of being naughty or unhappy, 
 and you told Liz, she would make you all right 
 in no time. She shall have hearts'ease on her 
 
 grave and nothing else, except a little mignon- 
 ette, for that is quiet and sweet like she was." 
 
 So Bryda twisted up a pretty wreath of 
 hearts'ease and mignonette, to take to the grave 
 of this Liz, whose looks and character you see 
 she had invented for herself, for you know if 
 
114 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 the carpenter was really a prince in disguise, of 
 course his wife and daughter were princesses. 
 Bryda would take the first possible chance of 
 asking old Koger more about his brother and 
 about the palace, and if he would not be sorry 
 that Liz could never go there with him. Mean- 
 while she set off down the pretty shrubbery 
 walk with her simple little wreath to lay on the 
 princess' grave. 
 
 " No one would call her Princess Liz. I sup. 
 pose she was Princess Elizabeth," she said to 
 herself. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 115 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 BEPPO'S FRIEND. 
 
 Away went Miss Bryda, with her head full 
 of Liz and her charms, the flowers in her hand, 
 to the churchyard. 
 
 It was peaceful there in the quiet September 
 sunshine, and Biyda felt sorry to think that the 
 dead people could not see how pretty their 
 resting-place looked. It was a large church- 
 yard, with some old vaults, and white crosses 
 over newer graves ; indeed, many generations of 
 old and young were asleep there. It was a city 
 of rest, with the gray old church for its temple 
 in the middle; and its streets were mossy 
 paths, as unlike as possible to the great, noisy, 
 restless streets of the big towns of the living. 
 
 Bryda put her green wreath with its purple 
 and yellow stars on the humble grave where 
 there was no grand inscription like that to Sir 
 
116 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Jocelyn de Wraymont close by, with all his 
 virtues in capital letters after his name ; but 
 only that one word " Liz." 
 
 Then she went and tried the door of the old 
 church. It was open ; the vicar never allowed 
 the building to be closed, unless there was 
 some urgent reason, so that any one who ^vanted 
 to think or to pray quietly might come in there. 
 At first the village people thought this an odd 
 idea, but after a little time first one and then 
 another found out this quiet refuge and slipped 
 in. There was always service morning and 
 evening for those who could spare time to attend ; 
 and though the worshipers were always few, 
 yet, as the vicar said, "they could pray for 
 everybody, and the Father was so gracious 
 that if only two or three were met together it 
 would please Him." 
 
 When Bryda went in there was nobody in 
 the building but an old man, who had just 
 risen and was going out on tiptoe, with the 
 sunshine from a painted window on his bent, 
 white head. Bryda felt sorry for him, he 
 seemed so old and feeble ; she would have been 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 117 
 
 still more sorry had she known that it was the 
 evil doing of his two sons, and even of his 
 daughter (for he was Moll Dawson's old father), 
 that made him look old and bent before his 
 time ; sounds of quarreling were so often heard 
 from the uncomfortable cottage he called home 
 that he often escaped to the quiet church. 
 There he would sit by th^ hour, sometimes with 
 tears rolling slowly down his furrowed cheeks, 
 and then go home very weary, for when we are 
 young we are not much the worse for " a good 
 cry," but old people's tears are few and bitter. 
 
 Bryda watched this old man go out, and then 
 stood still, wondering whether she should go in 
 herself, when her attention was attracted by a 
 low sound, like that of some one sobbing quietly. 
 She listened ; the sound stopped a moment, then 
 began again. It was certainly someone crying, 
 and for a *moment she felt half- frightened, for 
 she could not see any one. 
 
 Then a better thought came. Perhaps she 
 could try and comfort some one who was un- 
 happy, and that might be a little bit of the 
 ^' Lord's work." She had once heard her mother 
 
118 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 say that a child was sometimes the best of all 
 earthly comforters. 
 
 So very quietly she stole up the side aisle, 
 and there, behind a pillar, she found — Beppo ! 
 
 Yes, poor little Beppo! Crouched on the 
 ground, half-kneeling, leaning against the cold 
 pillar, the poor child with passionate sobs 
 seemed to be pouring out all his heart. His 
 great black eyes were fixed on a beautiful 
 painted window opposite. This window had 
 been put in to the memory of a very good and 
 charitable young lady, whose early death had 
 been deeply mourned by every one who knew 
 her, and it showed a lovely figure, wnth angel's 
 wings, and a face of pity, gently raising a sick 
 child, and looking at him tenderly. 
 
 Poor little Beppo, alone and lonely, had 
 crept into the church, and gazing long on the 
 beautiful window, had presently thought the 
 kind face was watching him with pity. 
 
 He was in bitter grief, for his dearly-loved 
 mother had been trying to tell him she would 
 soon go away never to return. She had suc- 
 ceeded only too well, for the poor child, when at 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 119 
 
 last he understood, brushing past kind old 
 Roger, rushed from the house to the church 
 where he could be alone. In his own country 
 the church is a refuge for the sorrowful, always 
 open for any one who will enter; so in this 
 strange land he naturally sought the old gray 
 building. 
 
 Poor little boy ! he was very young and very 
 ignorant, and he had been taught to ask for, 
 and to hope for, the help of saints and angels. 
 The doctor could do little for his mother; 
 Roger, kind as he was, could not save her ; and 
 poor little Beppo, wild with grief, and in the 
 midst of strangers who could scarcely under- 
 stand what he said, threw himself before tliis 
 lovely figure in the window, and thought that 
 at last he had found a friend to help him. 
 
 All this Bryda learned, but really it was 
 rather difficult. She could not "make up" 
 Italian that Beppo would understand, in the 
 easy way in which she and Maurice Grey made 
 up Latin to talk to each other when they played 
 at Charon's boat. 
 
 Then Beppo's English was very odd, and his 
 
120 
 
 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 story was so often interrupted by sobs, that 
 quite a long time bad passed before the little 
 comforter was able to make out the younger 
 child's trouble, and to understand that he had 
 
 a^ 
 
 been talking to the angel in the beautiful 
 window when she found him. 
 
 Little Bryda was sadly puzzled. Hew was 
 she to comfort Beppo ? What could she say ? 
 
 She could not tell him to hope his mother 
 would get better. That the doctor said could 
 never be. Could she comfort Beppo with a lie ? 
 No, never ! 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 121 
 
 She could not say tLe angel would do the 
 poor dying woman good. The aogel was very 
 beautiful, but after all she was only made of 
 glass and paint. 
 
 So, after looking sadly at Beppo's tear-stained 
 face and little drooping figure, all she could, say 
 was: 
 
 *' Oh, Beppo ! I am so sorry !" 
 
 And with that she threw her arms round him, 
 and together the two children cried, till Beppo's 
 sobs came more gently. This little English girl 
 was sorry because he was unhappy. After all 
 he was not so lonely ! 
 
 " Children !" said a voice near them, so near 
 that both started and looked up. Bryda sprang 
 to her feet, and held Beppo by the hand, feeling 
 as if they were both likely to be scolded for 
 making the church a place to cry in. 
 
 But there was no anger on the loving, kind 
 face of the old vicar, who stood before them, 
 only great pity for whatever trouble had caused 
 these tears. The Good Shepherd, his Master, 
 cares as much for the pains of His lambs as for 
 those of His most prized sheep, and His mes- 
 
122 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 senger would give as much care to these two 
 children as to the greatest people in the land. 
 
 Beckoning them to follow, he went quietly 
 down the aisle and out into the churchyard; 
 there, taking a hand of each, he led them to a 
 seat that was placed under a spreading tree 
 among the graves. 
 
 " Now tell me all about it," he said kindly ; 
 and Bryda forgot to be shy as she looked into 
 his face, and soon told all Beppo's story while 
 the little boy looked with wide black eyes, that 
 had no tears in them now, at his new friends, 
 the old clergyman and the little girl. 
 
 ^^ I see, I see !" said Mr. Joyce, for that was 
 the vicar's name.' 
 
 " And now, Beppo, can you understand if I 
 speak English ? because then, if I talk to you, 
 this young lady will understand too." 
 
 Beppo nodded his head. 
 
 Mr. Joyce went on : " There was once a 
 little boy, no matter how long ago, whose little 
 sister was very ill — so ill that the doctor said 
 there was no hope that she could live many 
 days. Now in the country where these children 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 123 
 
 lived it was always believed that if any mortal 
 could get one leaf from the Tree of Life, that 
 grew in the garden of God, every illness would 
 be cured at once. But no one had ever tried 
 to get this leaf, because the journey was steep 
 and rough to the gates of the garden, and be- 
 cause an Angel stood there to keep the gate 
 and would let no one pass. But this little boy 
 loved his sister so well — as well, I think, as 
 Beppo loves his mother." 
 
 Beppo's dark eyes filled with tears again, 
 and the vicar laid a hand gently on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " So well that he could not have loved her 
 more if he had tried with all his might. And, 
 when all other hope seemed gone, he said, ^I 
 will go, I will beg of the Angel at the gate to 
 let me in for one moment, or to give me a leaf, 
 only one leaf, from the Tree.' 
 
 "So he went by the long, rough way, till in 
 the golden sunset he stood before that great 
 Angel, and trembling made his request. 
 
 *^^ None can enter this garden but those chil- 
 dren of the King for whom He has sent, that 
 
124 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 they may be with Him. I can let no other 
 enter,' answered the Angel. 
 
 " ^ But one lejif.' prayed the child, ' one little 
 leaf to cure my sister. The King will not be 
 angry !" 
 
 "And as he spoke he could hear, though he 
 could not see into the garden, the Tree rustling 
 gently, and the birds among the branches 
 warbling the praises of the King of Glory. 
 
 "Only one leaf, and there were so many on 
 the tree ! * The King, the loving Father, cannot 
 wish that my poor little sister should have to 
 suffer so, and then die and leave me all alone ! 
 Have pity upon me, great Angel, it is such a 
 little tliinoj I ask !' entreated the child. 
 
 , " But the Angel looked down upon him with 
 deep love and pity in his eyes. 
 
 " ^ The King has sent my brother, tlie Angel 
 of Death, to bring your sister to Ilim. 81ie 
 shall dwell forever in the light of His smile. 
 If you are allowed to keep her, will you promise 
 me to take care that she shall never again lie 
 tossing on a sick bed V 
 
 " ^ How can I V said the child, wondering 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 125 
 
 ' Not even the wisest physicians can always heal 
 diseases at once.' 
 
 " * Then will you promise that she shall never 
 be unhappy ? never do wrong, and suffer shame 
 and sorrow ? never be cold, hungry, tired ? that 
 no one shall speak to her harshly V asked the 
 Angel. 
 
 f* ^ Not if I can help it,' answered the child. 
 ^But perhaps I could not always make her 
 happy, even when I am grown up.' 
 
 *^ * Then the world where you want to keep 
 her is rather a sad place,' the Angel said gently. 
 'Now I will open the gate a little, and you 
 shall look in for a moment, and if you still wish 
 it, my child, I wall ask myself that you may 
 have a leaf from the Tree of Life, that your 
 sister may stay upon earth with you.' 
 
 " So the Angel who kept the golden gate 
 opened it a very little way, and as the mighty 
 door rolled back for a moment, the child could 
 see into the Land where by the river stands the 
 Tree of Life, and where those who are counted 
 worthy walk forever in white — where they 
 need no candle, neither light of the sun, be- 
 
126 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 cause the smile of God is the light of that 
 wonderful place, and His servants shall serve 
 Him, and no tongue can tell the happiness that 
 is theirs forever and ever." 
 
 '^ Did the little boy see right into heaven ?" 
 asked Bryda, in a low tone. " Oh, do tell us 
 what he saw !" 
 
 " I cannot tell you what he saw," answered 
 the vicar ; " you and I, little Bryda, have to 
 wait awhile, it may be for me a very little while, 
 trusting that the Father will in His mercy, for 
 His Son's sake, give us a place there. But this 
 I will tell you, that the child turned toward 
 the beautiful Angel with eyes full of wonder 
 and surprise. 
 
 " ^ I will not ask it now,' he said ; * I think 
 there is no friend so kind as the Angel of 
 Death, who seems to us so dreadful. Oh, I 
 wish he would take me, too !' And the Angel 
 answered : 
 
 "*When all the lessons which the Father 
 desires you to learn in His school, which is 
 called the Earth, are learned ; when the little 
 piece of His great work that is meant for your 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 127 
 
 Lands is finished, then the Angel vvill come for 
 you too, my child, if only you are true and 
 faithful.' 
 
 " And the child turned away and went back 
 under the stars, that were like eyes of angels 
 watching him, back from the golden gates to 
 his home in the world. And as he went a 
 golden ray shot once across his path, and 
 brought a sound of wonderful music, such as he 
 had never heard. And he knew that the golden 
 gates had opened, and his sister had passed in. 
 On a little bed at home lay her body, white and 
 still, but he knew that it was only the dress she 
 had worn in tlie world. And the child was 
 comforted." 
 
 And Beppo was comforted too. As the 
 vicar spoke, he imagined a country more 
 beautiful than his own Italy, where golden 
 oranges hang in the dark-green leaves, and the 
 wonderful blue sea sleeps under the blue sky, 
 but where people are sick and sorrowful as they 
 are everywhere in the world. His dear mother 
 would go to that wonderful place, so beautiful 
 that even this wise gentleman could not tell 
 
128 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 him exactly what it was like. She would never 
 cough, nor be tired nor hungry again ! 
 
 But the bells began to ring for service. 
 
 " Come, Beppo, I will take you home," said 
 Mr. Joyce ; and Bryda said good-by to both, 
 and went slowly home along the shrubbery 
 path. 
 
 This has been a sad chapter; but you see 
 there are sad parts even in the lives of children ; 
 and if Bryda was not in quite such wild spirits 
 as usual, she certainly did not feel unhappy that 
 evening, when, sitting by Cousin Salome's 
 couch, she told her all that had happened. 
 
 ^^ Don't you think," said kind Salome, " that 
 if you were to bring Beppo hei-e in the afternoon, 
 Bryda, you and I could teach him a little about 
 a better Friend than his angel in the window, 
 a Friend Who can and will help him, and Who 
 will never die and leave him, never change and 
 forget him?" 
 
 And Bryda very gladly promised to bring 
 Beppo next day. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 DREADFULLY FRIGHTENED. 
 
 " Miss Bryda," said Uncle Jack at breakfast 
 next morning, "if you knew what I know you 
 would be a good deal wiser than you are now." 
 
 ^' I dare say I should, Uncle Jack," answered 
 Bryda, pouting. *^I suppose you mean if I 
 knew all the dates of all the Norman kings, and 
 could speak French without any mistakes, and 
 — and — several other things." 
 
 " Such as how many beans make five ? and 
 that useful kind of thing to know, I suppose? 
 But if I were a little girl, and any one told me 
 the very nice piece of news which I think I had 
 better not tell you^ why, I should really and 
 truly, I do believe, be obliged to get up and 
 give tbe person a kiss. Especially if he was 
 young and very handsome !" added Uncle Jack, 
 twirling his mustache, and looking very seriously 
 at his niece. 
 
130 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Evidently the only chance of getting this 
 news was to get up and give him a kiss, which 
 Bryda did, and both she and Uncle Jack were 
 promptly scolded by grandmother, w^ho said 
 that in her young days she used to sit still at 
 breakfast till every one had finished. 
 
 Uncle Jack begged her pardon at once, very 
 politely indeed, and then told Bryda his piece 
 of news. 
 
 " I know a field, a very little way off, where 
 there is a hedge simply crawling with black- 
 berries." 
 
 Giandmother was a little deaf, so she did not 
 hear what he said quite rightly, and with a 
 little scream she said : 
 
 "Crawling with black beetles! Oh, John! 
 for pity's sake have them all killed at once !" 
 
 ^^I will, mother, dear, and they shall be made 
 into jelly for your dinner," said Uncle Jack, 
 laughing. 
 
 But the dear old lady grew quite excited 
 about the black beetles, and he had with some 
 trouble to explain that a hedge crawling with 
 blackberries was a way of speaking that he had 
 
MIXED PICKLES* 131 
 
 invented to make Biyda laugh. " She so seldom 
 does laugh, poor child !" he said. 
 
 Well, Uncle Jack was going to shoot this 
 morning, and he would take Bryda to the black- 
 berry hedge, and leave her there till he came 
 back again. 
 
 So he did ; and Bryda, as she marched off 
 with a big basket on her arm, beside Uncle 
 Jack with a gun, made a little request. 
 
 " Might Beppo come and help her ? It would 
 be a very little round to pass old Roger's cot- 
 tage, Bryda would like it so." 
 
 *^ Why, what a little coax it is !" said Uncle 
 Jack; "and, j)ray, who is Beppo?" 
 
 Bryda soon explained, telling Uncle Jack all 
 about the little boy who so much interested her 
 and his poor mother. 
 
 "And he's such a nice boy," she ended. " He 
 has curly hair, and big black eyes, and speaks 
 such very funny English." 
 
 " He must be a nice little boy with all those 
 charms !" laughed Uncle Jack. And to Roger's 
 cottage they went. 
 
 Roger was at home, and so was his cat. Uncle 
 
132 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Jack began to talk to the old man. Bryda, 
 after looking round for Beppo, seized the cat, 
 and sat down on a stool to pretend it was a 
 baby, and put it to sleep, with her eyes con- 
 tinually fixed on the door of the Italian woman's 
 room. 
 
 Into this room Uncle Jack went presently, 
 and Bryda was left alone with Roger. Now 
 was the time to ask him about Liz and his 
 palace home, and if he was not sorry Liz had 
 died before he could go there. 
 
 " Koger," she asked, not quite knowing how 
 to begin, " when did you say you were going 
 home ?" 
 
 " As soon as I've finished the bit o' work I've 
 had set me here, missy. Maybe if I'd made 
 fewer mistakes over it I'd be there by now. 
 It's, oh ! my clumsy hands, never fit to touch it 
 at all!" 
 
 "Do you mean your carpentering?" asked 
 Bryda, wondering. 
 
 " Not quite that, Miss Bryda," answered the 
 old man, looking away througli the little win- 
 dow. " It's weaving work more than carpenter 
 
Biyda after looking round for Beppo, seized the cat.— Page 133, 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 133 
 
 ing work, making a bit of the Bride's beautiful 
 marriage dress. There's a-many weavers set to 
 that work, missy — ay, many they are! And 
 some waste the materials and do naught; an' 
 some put gold and silver thread into the pattern 
 anyhow, an' it's all mixed and spoiled. But 
 there's some good workers weave the bright 
 threads and the dull threads as they were meant 
 to be, and work real pearls on it, and seldom 
 make a fault. That's how^ my Liz worked; but 
 I've been a clumsy one — ah, sad and clumsy old 
 Roger's been all his life!" 
 
 "When will the weddifig be, Roger, and 
 where? Is it to be in the old church here?" 
 
 Roger shook his head. 
 
 ^' When w^ill the dress be finished, missy, the 
 Bride's beautiful dress that's so long a-makin' ? 
 An' where will " 
 
 Here Roger w^ns interrupted, much to Bryda's 
 grief, for Uncle Jack came out of the sick-room, 
 looking^ much less cheerful than when he went 
 in, and leading Beppo by the hand. He spoke 
 in a low tone to Roger, to whom Bryda saw him 
 give money, and wondered why he should, when 
 
134 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 the old man was, she believed, so rich already. 
 Then beckoning to Bryda, he left the cottage. 
 
 "Now, Beppo, you shall go and play with 
 this young lady. Will you be very good V' he 
 asked, outside. 
 
 " Oh, si, si ! I mean say, yes, sir !" answered 
 the little Italian, looking brightly at Brjda, 
 who seemed to him now quite an old friend, and 
 speaking his queer English. 
 
 So Uncle Jack led them both into his black- 
 berry field, which was quite as good as he had 
 said. 
 
 "It's simply beautiful!" Bryda said to Uncle 
 Jack as he went away, promising to return by 
 and by and fetch them. 
 
 Left alone, the two children were happy 
 enough, and their tongues wagged very fast in- 
 deed. Beppo told his little companion about 
 his own country, where oranges, hanging on 
 dark-green trees, might be had for the trouble 
 of gathering; and about beautiful vineyards, 
 with clusters of white and purple grapes, and 
 the merry, merry vintage-time. Ah ! if they 
 could go back to Italy again, he was sure his 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 135 
 
 dear, dear mother would be quite well again ! 
 His father was dead, and the mother grew 
 poorer and poorer in her own country, and at 
 last she dreamed night after night that if she 
 would go north to England she would be able 
 to get money for herself and her boy, and come 
 home quite rich. But it was not so ; people 
 did not seem to like barrel-organs much, and 
 the little money his mother had had all gone 
 to buy this instrument. 
 
 Often they had been sent from houses with 
 angry words ; often they had nowhere to sleep ; 
 often they had nothing to eat. 
 
 Bryda had never known real hunger. She 
 had known how pleasant it was to come in 
 tired and hungry after a long expedition, and 
 how delicious bread and butter tasted then, 
 and jam ! but to ache with hunger, and, when 
 ready to faint, not to have any food, how ter- 
 rible that must be ! 
 
 But very soon both Bryda and Beppo forgot 
 that there ever had been any troubles in the 
 world, they were so busy and so happy with 
 the blackberries. 
 
136 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 What a delightful amusement blackbeny 
 hunting is ! To see the basket filling fast with 
 the fat, sweet, well-flavored berries ; to eat one 
 after another, because this one is crushed or 
 that one is too nice to part with, or a third may 
 have a different flavor since it grows on another 
 bush — l]0\v nice it is ! We eat, and chatter, 
 and eat again, till Angers and mouths are stained 
 a dark-red color; and how we laugh and make 
 fun ! Only one thing vexes us — that is, that 
 the very nicest, finest fellows always will grow 
 right up at the top of the hedge, just out of 
 reach even of our longest stick ! They would 
 be so nice ; but very often, after struggling a 
 good deal, scratching faces and hands, and get- 
 ting wet feet by slipping into the ditch, we 
 have to give it up and own ourselves beaten. 
 
 Never mind ! we have geneially quite enough 
 for the jam or the puddings we want to make, 
 and in great triumph we go home, each boast- 
 ing of having gathered most ! 
 
 So Bryda and Beppo amused themselves, and 
 wandered on at last to the other end of the 
 field. Here there was a gate leading into an- 
 
Bryda and Beppo amused themselves wandering about the field.— Page 136 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 137 
 
 other field, where was a very high hedge with 
 what seemed to the children the best black- 
 berries they had seen. 
 
 In a moment they were through the bars of 
 the high gate and in the field. Just as they 
 entered it a loud shout came from before them ; 
 and Bryda, looking across the field, saw the ter- 
 rible Moll Dawson waving her hands and shout- 
 ing to them. 
 
 Terrified, she caught Beppo's hand, and 
 dragged him further into the field. On the 
 side where the blackberries were there were 
 also some trees, and beyond was a little wood. 
 They might hide in this, and be safe. If Moll 
 Dawson found them what would she not do ? 
 She might take all their blackberries. She 
 might ill-treat them in some dreadful way. She 
 was so big and strong, and there was no help 
 near. What misrlit she not do ? 
 
 '&' 
 
 So Bryda and her companion, poor Bepp 
 
 who was frightened because she was frightened 
 — though he did not in the least know why — 
 these two fled further into the field, while Moll 
 Dawson still beckoned and called. 
 
L38 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Bryda, seeing that the girl did not come into 
 the field, took courage a little, and looked about 
 her. Oh, terror ! if she was fiightened before, 
 she was now as if rooted to the ground with 
 fear. 
 
 Sullenly coming toward the poor children, 
 sniffing violently as he came, and glaring at 
 them with wicked eyes, was an immense 
 bull ! 
 
 "Run, Beppo!" screamed Bryda. Beppo 
 looked at her a moment. " Run ! I am coming !" 
 she cried ; and Beppo was off like the wind 
 toward the gate where Moll Dawson beck- 
 oned. 
 
 Bryda, looking round a moment, saw a great 
 board, with " Beware of the Bull !" nailed 
 against a tree in the middle of the field. 
 
 Only for a moment she looked. Was there 
 any hope of her being able to climb a tree ? 
 Which gate was nearest ? The dreadful animal 
 was some little way off. If Bryda ran with 
 Beppo she might escape. In a second she was 
 off ; but, alas ! alas ! the bull was after her, 
 
 lie came on bellowing and roaring. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 139 
 
 Beppo was safe. He reached the gate before 
 Bryda ; but she, rushing half-blind with terror, 
 tripped as the fierce animal was close behind 
 her, and with a wild shriek fell flat on her 
 face a yard or two from the gate. 
 
140 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SOME USE FOR MOLL. 
 
 Flat on your face, and a raging bull coming 
 after you ! That is a terrible position ! It is 
 never wise to run r^ices with a bull, or a horse, 
 or a greyhound, or anything else that has four 
 legs — except, perhaps, a very fat prize pig, or 
 the kitchen table. What can you, with two 
 legs, do against four legs? 
 
 Besides, poor Bryda felt that there was no 
 one to help her ; there was only Moll Dawson 
 near, of whom she was nearly as much afraid 
 as she was of the bull; and poor little helpless 
 Beppo, whose eyes grew, like those of the dog 
 in the fairy tale, as big as saucers with terror, 
 as he stood, panting but safe, on the right side 
 of the gate. 
 
 Stay ! there was one Friend, to whom Bryda 
 had long ago learned at her mother's knee to 
 
MIXED PICKLES. l4l 
 
 look for help. She had, indeed, never been in 
 any such danger before, but mother hady and 
 many a time she had told Bryda of the time of 
 peril when the ship was said to be about to go 
 down on the broad Atlantic, and no help was 
 near — no human help, at least. And the chap- 
 lain gathered together all who could or would 
 come, and cried to Him Who holds the seas in 
 the hollow of His hand. 
 
 " In the midst of life we are in death : of 
 whom may we seek for succor, but of Thee, 
 O Lord ? . . . Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets 
 of our hearts ; shut not Thy merciful ears unto 
 our prayer ; but spare us, Lord most holy, O 
 Grod most mighty, O holy and merciful 
 Saviour !" 
 
 So the chaplain prayed, and the sea went 
 down, a& once did the waves of Galilee when 
 the Lord of winds and waves willed it, and 
 mother and all the shipload were saved. And 
 so Bryda cried to the loving Saviour as she fell, 
 and to her, too, came help in the way she least 
 expected. For as the bull with angry red eyes 
 and dreadful sharp horns had nearly reached 
 
142 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 her, when all hope seemed gone, and she had 
 not strength to try and rise, a shawl deftly 
 thrown fell right over the furious animal's head, 
 making him stop and then turn round, bellow- 
 ing frantically, as if he meant to ask who dared 
 to interfere in this way with his great will and 
 pleasure, which was to toss an insignificant 
 child. There were plenty of children in the 
 world, pray why should he not toss one if he so 
 pleased ? he seemed to ask. 
 
 While his majesty was expressing something 
 of this sort very noisily, a strong hand rather 
 roughly seized the fallen Bryda, picked her up, 
 and dragged her over or through — she never 
 knew which — the great, strong, five-barred 
 gate, w^here Beppo stood already, and watched, 
 white with terror, having had time to take 
 breath. 
 
 Bryda was not white, she was red-hot 
 and breathless, and it was several seconds be- 
 fore she could collect her scattered wits enough 
 to see the bull tearing the shawl to pieces, with 
 a strong wall and gate between himself and 
 her, and also to see that her preserver was no 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 143 
 
 other ttan that great object of her terror, Moll 
 Dawson. 
 
 " Now then," said Moll roughly, as she tried 
 to pinch Bryda's hat into shape again. " You're 
 a foolish one, you are. Why didn't, you stop 
 when you heard me screechin' ?" 
 
 "Because — I — because — ^" stammered Biyda, 
 who felt she could not tell Moll that the 
 "screechin'" had made her run as fast as pos- 
 sible in the other direction from that Moll 
 intended. 
 
 The girl burst into a loud laugh. " You're a 
 softy, upon my word ! So you thought I'd eat 
 yer blackberries and yer blessed selves arter 
 them ! But it was out of the fryin'-pan into 
 the fire this time, and no mistake. Oh, I see 
 ye blushing ! Tell Moll Dawson no stories ; 
 she's too 'cute for the likes o' you." 
 
 " I don't want to tell stories," said poor Bryda, 
 with teats in her eyes. " Indeed, indeed I am 
 grateful. That bull would have torn me to 
 pieces, as he is tearing your shawl." 
 
 And Bryda turned quite sick at the sight of 
 the great brute stamping on fragments of the 
 
J44 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 shawl, then, tearing tbem afresh with his horns, 
 bellowing all the time as if it was quite an 
 amusement to destroy something. 
 
 " I shall ask grannie to give me a new shawl 
 for you, Moll," said Bryda. 
 
 " Don't trouble you# head, child ; it's only a 
 old rag, bless you. So soon as I can earn a bit 
 o' money I'll have a jacket wi' beads all over, 
 like a young lady. Not as that they'll take me 
 for a lady — not even the boys at the factory. 
 Give me that pretty blue silk handkerchief on 
 your neck," went on Moll, with a sudden 
 change of tone. This was a command rather 
 than a request, to judge by the tone in which it 
 was spoken; but Bryda hesitated — mother 
 had given it to her just before she went away. 
 
 The girl, seeing she hesitated, laughed again 
 loud and bitterly — a laugh without merriment. 
 
 " Oh ! keep your things to yourself! I want 
 none of them ! Silk handkerchiefs are not for 
 the likes of me, nor nothin' else that's good — 
 only sharp words and crooked looks." Here 
 Moll threw herself down on the nearest bank, 
 and tore some white queen-daisies to bita 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 145 
 
 " Here, . take it, Moll !" said Br;^da, as she 
 snatclied off her handkerchief. " I am sure you 
 are welcome to it, and anything else I have;" 
 and with a gentle coaxing way she tied the 
 
 
 
 scarf round Moll Dawson's neck. The rough 
 girl looked more gracious; she bent her neck 
 to try and catch a glimpse of this bit of finery, 
 then looked up at Bryda again. 
 
 '^ You've got a gran, too ! I've seen her. 
 
146 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Does she beat yon very often ?" was her next 
 remark. 
 
 Bryda and Bep[>o both stared open-mouthed 
 at this question. Grandmother wouhl as soon 
 think of 
 
 " Never !" said Bryda at last, very decidedly. 
 
 " 1 suppose she's kind, then ?" 
 
 Bryda nodded expressively. 
 
 " Well, my gran ain't," pursued poor Moll. 
 "Beats us with the poker, for all she pretended 
 to be so ill and weak when you brought soup 
 o' Sunday, missy. We're a bad lot, we are, all 
 but father ; he'd be good if he could, I know." 
 
 " Oh, Moll !" said Bryda, answering the girl's 
 miserable tone as much as her words, "why 
 don't you try and be good ?" 
 
 " I suppose you're good ?" said the girl ; " it 
 is not hard for such as you to keep straight." 
 
 " Indeed, I am not good," cried truthful 
 Br^/da, remembeiing a great many faults at 
 once. " I'm so often in mischief or some trouble 
 that Uncle Jack says I live in a jar of mixed 
 pickles. But I do want to be good for all 
 that." 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 147 
 
 " So you will some day, when you're a fine 
 lady. And, I warrant, you're not real bad now. 
 And you'd not be frightened of me any more ?" 
 added Moll sadly, looking up at her. 
 
 " No, indeed ; we'd be fond of you — wouldn't 
 we, Beppo ?" said Bryda eagerly. 
 
 Beppo nodded and said, " Yes, yes." He was 
 proud of his knowledge of English, such as it 
 was. 
 
 " No one's fond of me," said Moll, still more 
 sadly. "Jim used to be in a fashion, but he 
 wouldn't give his little finger to save me from 
 drowning. An' I'm too wicked for father to 
 love me — or any one else either." 
 
 Bryda's eyes filled with tears. *^God loves 
 you, Moll," she whispered gently. 
 
 But Moll shook her head. " No, He don't. 
 God Almighty may care for the gentlefolks — 
 seems like it. But He don't care for such as us." 
 
 "Indeed, He does,'' said Bryda earnestly, 
 quite sure this time that there was no doubt of 
 what she said being true. "See how he has 
 cared for Beppo and his mother !" 
 
 " Did He tell the old carpenter to be good to 
 
i48 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 them r asked Moll tliougLtf iilly. '' Well, it'a 
 not much a poor man like him can do." 
 
 " Oh ! he's not a poor man," burst out Bryda. 
 '*He's a prince really; he told me so. And 
 his Father's a very great King, and will take 
 him to live in a palace some day soon." 
 
 " And he have gold, much gold, hid safe from 
 de tieves," added Beppo in his broken English. 
 He and Bryda were sitting on the bank now 
 beside Moll Dawson. 
 
 " Eh !" said Moll ; " whoever would have 
 thought it." 
 
 " It's quite true," said Bryda, and went on to 
 tell all about Roger's inheritance. She was just 
 going on to tell all about his cat, and the funny 
 story of all the cats with excellent " characters," 
 when Uncle Jack's voice was heard in the 
 blackberry field calling her. 
 
 At this sound Moll Dawson sprang up, 
 nodded a hasty farewell, and scrambled through 
 a small breach in the hedge behind, vanishing 
 in a moment, in spite of Br}'da's entreaties to 
 her to stay, and let Uncle Jack hear how she 
 had saved them. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 149 
 
 Uncle Jack's cheerful brown face grew very 
 white when he heard the story. 
 
 "Say nothing to the grannies, Bryda/' he 
 said. "Not because it is right to have secrets, 
 little maid ; but because graiidnjother is too old 
 and weak to hear about anything that would 
 frighten her. But you and I will see what we 
 can do for Moll Dawson, and we will ask Cousin 
 Salome's advice, eh?" 
 
 Poor Moll Dawson! She had done one good 
 deed that day. It was a pity that in the after- 
 noon she should do, though not intentionally, 
 some sad harm. 
 
 Her brother Jim worked as garden-boy with 
 Mr. Seymour (that was the name of Bryda's 
 grandfather). Moll, roaming idly about, met 
 him as he came from work in the evening, and 
 in her careless, gossiping way began to tell him 
 all that Bryda had said about old Roger's store 
 of treasure, which Moll said was money he had 
 hidden away somewhere in his poor little cot- 
 tage, like a misen 
 
 For Bryda did not yet understand, what is 
 perhaps plain to any one reading this, that the 
 
150 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 old man, accustomed as he was to live alone, 
 thought so much of the heavenly country where 
 he hoped to go, and of the many mansions in 
 the Father's house, that he talked of them in a 
 way that seemed to the child to mean things on 
 earth. So the precious treasure of the love of 
 Christ, and of the hope that is in Hi in, seemed to 
 little Bryda to be perishing treasures of earth — 
 money and jewels. And what Bryda had told 
 Moll, Moll repeated, with improvements of her 
 own, to her bad brother. 
 
 " Ah ! ah !" said Jim ; " he's a chicken worth 
 plucking — eh, Moll ? A knock on the old boy's 
 head, if he objects, and then share and share 
 alike for you and me." 
 
 "You leave him alone, Jim," she answered; 
 for the longing to be better was working in the 
 poor girl's darkened mind, even as the spint of 
 God rested on the earth when it was " without 
 form and void." Christ, who died for poor 
 Moll, was calling gently, and the hard heart 
 softened a little. 
 
 "Boo," said Jim, with a hideous grimace. 
 "You're afraid o' being found out. Split on 
 
MIXED PICKLES. . 151 
 
 me and tell the police, will you ? Yah, that's 
 like a woman." 
 
 " I'll not have it, Jim," went on Moll steadily. 
 " I'm not afraid, that you know right well : I'm 
 a better thief than you by a long way, and 
 never was caught yet ; but I'll have naught to 
 do with this — nor you either." 
 
 *• We'll see," said Jim, and held his tongue. 
 
152 • MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MORE ABOUT BEPPO. 
 
 Bryda was not allowed to go alone to the 
 village again, since her nurse had told granny 
 she was missing on that unfortunate Sunday 
 afternoon, when the whole household had 
 turned out in pursuit of her. She Lad there- 
 fore promised Beppo to meet him in the church 
 or churchyard at half-past five, and take him 
 to Cousin Salome. 
 
 For the second time she found the poor little 
 Italian in bitter grief. It happened that a 
 great dai'k bank of clouds had covered llio sky 
 for a great part of the day, and the churcli 
 inside was so dark that the sexton thought it 
 well to light up the building before the short 
 service, which was every evening dunng sum- 
 mer at six, and in winter much earlier. 
 
 T'o-night the choir were practicing ])efore 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 153 
 
 service, so when Beppo came to the church at 
 half-past five, to meet his little friend, the build- 
 ing was lighted up. He came to see his beau- 
 tiful angel again to tell her, whom he still 
 thought a great and powerful friend, all that 
 had happened to him. But with the darkness 
 outside and the bright lights within, all the 
 colors had faded out of the window, so that, aa 
 any one who goes into a lighted church by night 
 can see, there was only a dark blank space 
 where the beautiful angel had stood. And 
 the passionate little southern boy said to him 
 self that his friend had forsaken him, that sh( 
 was gone and would never come back again. 
 
 Bryda felt that somehow he was quite wrong, 
 but how was she to explain, or to comfort him ? 
 
 First she told him his angel was not gone, 
 but had only faded from his sight, and that 
 with daylight he would find her again. But aa 
 at this he only sobbed afresh, and said she wm 
 gone, he could not see her, so she must be 
 gone, Bryda tried to explain that his friend was 
 no real person but only a beautiful picture. 
 This only made him very indignant ; he knew 
 
154 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 angels took care of people, bis mother had 
 often told him so ; did Bryda mean to tell him 
 there were no angels ? 
 
 Then Bryda, not knowing how to meet these 
 questions, proposed that he should come with 
 her at once to Cousin Salome; and, hand in 
 hand, the two children went up the long shrub- 
 bery walk to find her. 
 
 Salome greeted them with her own bright 
 smile, and made Beppo sit on a low stool by 
 her side. Soon the black eyes grew very bright 
 and round, when the child found that this Eng- 
 lish lady had seen his own beautiful Italy, and 
 seemed to love it nearly as well as he did. 
 
 Then, when Cousin Salome began to speak 
 to him in Italian, Beppo fairly jumped off his 
 etool and clapped nis hands with delight. 
 
 Here was a frit^nd for him ! Until one has 
 gone to a strange country and there been very 
 lonely and sorrov'/ful, like poor little Beppo, it 
 is not easy to understand the delight that he 
 felt at hearing his own language spoken again. 
 
 After a little time Bryda began to tell 
 Cousin Salome all about Beppo's troubles, and 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 155 
 
 especially the last, whicli seemed to the poor 
 little boy a very great one. 
 
 " No, Beppo, your beautiful angel is not 
 gone," she answered, " she is only hidden fro^n 
 you for a time by the darkness. But I will 
 tell you both, dear children, what this little 
 grief of Beppo's is like ; and we can make it i. 
 sort of parable. Bryda, you know what a 
 parable is ?" 
 
 " A story that means something, isn't it ?" 
 said Bryda. 
 
 " Yes, dear. Well, when we are young, our 
 life is like a bright painted window, very lovely 
 to look at. But supposing our sky gets dark, 
 and some great trouble comes up like the 
 night " 
 
 " Something like your illness, cousin V said 
 Bryda genlly. 
 
 Cousin Salome smiled. 
 
 " Yes, perhaps, dear. Or like Beppo's great 
 trouble, when his mother told him she must go 
 and be with God, and leave him alone. That 
 makes life seem very dark, doesn't it, Bej^po ?" 
 
 Beppo nodded his head; he could not speak, 
 
156 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 because a great lump came up in his throat and 
 made him feel as if he must choke. 
 
 ^' Well, when the night is over," went on 
 Salome, " and the kind, bright sun comes back 
 again, our life looks beautiful again. But what 
 do peoj)le do when the church gets dark, 
 Beppo?" 
 
 " Light de lamps," said Beppo quickly. 
 
 "Ah, yes ! that is it ! Light the lamps, and 
 then we forget all about the darkness outside. 
 Inside there is warmth and lisrht and brio^ht- 
 ness, and sweet hymns go up to the Great 
 White Throne of God. And life is beautiful 
 after all, though it is a little more sad and 
 solemn, as Beppo feels it now." 
 
 Then Cousin Salome went on to talk to 
 Beppo in Italian about a Fiieud who never 
 would forsake him, and Who was always near, 
 though the dim eyes of men cannot see Ilim ; 
 of One far more lovely and loving than the 
 angels, who were only servants in that great 
 House of the Father's, in which heaven and 
 and earth are contained. Only servants; but 
 He — this Friend Who was willing to be always 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 157 
 
 Beppo's friend, if the child would look to Him 
 and trust Him — He was the Son of the House, 
 and all thino-s were His. 
 
 Bryda listened, though she could not under- 
 stand the language; and as she listened she 
 thouo^ht she knew the use of lessons. 
 
 " Lessons and doses," she had said, " were 
 supposed to do people good f and now she saw, 
 at all events, one use of lessons. " If I could 
 talk Italian to Beppo, how nice it would be !" 
 
 And to herself she resolved that when the 
 new governess came — it was to be very soon 
 now — she would ^vork harder than ever before, 
 even over lists of dates. After all she might 
 find out some day that there was a use for 
 those, too ! 
 
 Beppo listened as to one who told him some 
 strange new thing. He had been taught by his 
 mother much about ang^els watchin^c over him 
 with beautiful shining wings ; but very little, 
 almost nothing, about the loving Saviour Who 
 was once a little boy like himself, and Who 
 grew up to be the Friend and Helper of any 
 one who was in distress, and to Whom the little 
 
158 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 troubles of His little children were as important 
 as the great and bitter griefs that crush the 
 hearts of men. 
 
 Poor little boy ! he drank in every word, 
 with great eyes fixed on Cousin Salome's face, 
 and it seemed to him, as it had seemed to 
 Bryda while she listened to the vicar's sermon, 
 that there never could be anything half so 
 sweet as trying to please this loving Lord 
 Jesus, Who was such a kind Friend. 
 
 But the invalid began to grow tired, and 
 Bryda saw that she could not talk much longer. 
 So she got up suddenly, and carried oif Beppo, 
 and Cousin Salome was left to her needful rest. 
 
 It was settled first of all, though, that Bryda 
 should give Beppo lessons in reading every day. 
 
 '' Reading and weeding!" said Uncle Jack. 
 " I have made love to Hayes the gardener, and 
 he has promised to let Beppo come and weed in 
 the garden; and so the little chap can earn 
 something, and not feel quite such a burden on 
 old Rosier." 
 
 Beppo's mother was not to be long a burden 
 on any one. One night, while Beppo slept, and 
 
<^. 
 
 G 
 
 y 
 
 
 ^....^, 
 
 
 \^V^-v». .I//*- 
 
 
 \'/. 
 
 
 u,^ 
 
 .%Alv>»SC/^^ 
 
 ''-^~-^i. 
 
 Only one word, too — " Speranza."— Pag« 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 159 
 
 while it seemed that she slept, too, old Roger, 
 stealing in on tiptoe, found that she was indeed 
 asleep, wrapped in that last long sleep which 
 no evil dreams disturb. She would never be 
 hungry, or thirsty, or tired again, for God had 
 taken His child, who, though ignorant enough, 
 had been faithful to Him, to that rest of which 
 we say, ^' He giveth His beloved sleep." 
 
 Close by that grave, with the one word " Liz," 
 they made another, and on that there was only 
 one word, too — " Speranza." 
 
 Very few of the village people knew what 
 Cousin Salome told Bryda, that the beautiful 
 name of the poor Italian meant " Hope." 
 
 Old Roger would not part with Beppo. He 
 was a lonesome old man, he said, and it would 
 be a charity to let the boy stay with him. 
 Beppo could weed and learn to read for the 
 present, and as soon as he knew the language 
 better he could go to school in the village. 
 Every one was well pleased with the plan, for, 
 though some of the village people thought old 
 Roger rather odd, from the way he had of talk- 
 ing al)out heaven as if it were quite near, and 
 
160 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 of Bible people as if they were still alive, yet no 
 one doubted his goodness; and kind Cousin 
 Salome promised to pay for Beppo's schooling. 
 So it seemed that the poor little boy, after his 
 long wanderings, would have a happy home and 
 kind friends, and would soon forget his troubles. 
 Bryda was at first very patient with her 
 pupil, who, to do him justice, was not stupid ; 
 but what puzzled her most was that it did not 
 seem natural to the Italian child to say the 
 English words as she did. 
 
 Uncle Jack, coming one day into the room 
 where these lessons Avere going on, found Beppo 
 with tearful eyes, while Bryda a[)peared to have 
 at that moment thrown the reading-book to the 
 other end of the room, where it lay looking like 
 a book in disgrace in the corner, gaping wide 
 open, with a leaf or two scattered on the way, 
 for it was an old one. 
 
 '^ What is this noise about ?" said Uncle Jack, 
 with a face of amusement ; " what's the matter 
 now ?" 
 
 "Beppo's too stupid, Uncle Jack — and I — I 
 lost patience." 
 
Bryda appeared to have thrown the reading book to the other end of the 
 room.— Page 160. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 161 
 
 '^ Lost, a valuable temper," said Uncle Jack, 
 with a serious face ; " at least I mean ^ Lost, a 
 good temper, of no value to any one but the 
 owner. Is very cheerful, and marked with a 
 capital B. The finder, if poor, shall be hand- 
 somely rewarded on bringing it to ' " 
 
 " DonH, Uncle Jack !" Bryda stood on tiptoe 
 and put her hands over his mouth, while Beppo 
 picked up the book and put in the scattered 
 leaves. " But really I can't make him under- 
 stand some things. He spells c-a-t, and then 
 calls it ^ cart,' and when at last I get him to 
 say ^ cat,' he goes on m-a-t, ^ mart !' " 
 
 " I suppose Miss Quillnib never had any such 
 worries in teaching Bryda ?" said Uncle Jack 
 slyly. Bryda looked a little ashamed. 
 
 " But do you know that it is natural to him 
 to say cart and mart instead of cat and mat, and 
 you will have to teach him gradually that 
 English does not sound like Italian, Bryda? 
 Now suppose, by way of variety, that you say 
 this simple little sentence after me : 
 
 "^ Aldiborontiphoscophornio ! — where left you 
 Chrononhotonthologos V " 
 
162 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 '' * Aldiboronti ' — I don't know any more !" 
 
 " Ihat's not English, Uncle Jack !" 
 
 " Well, I assure you it comes out of an Eng 
 
 lish play. So, naturally, the actor has to say it. 
 
 Try something easier : 
 
 "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper; 
 A peck of pickled pepper Peter Piper picked. 
 If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper, 
 Where's the peck of pickled pepper^Peter Piper picked?'' 
 
 " Which of us three will say that very fast 
 three times without a mistake ?" 
 
 They all tried, and all failed, and the lesson 
 ended in such shouts of laughter that both the 
 grannies hobbled in — helping each other — to 
 see what the fun was. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 163 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BEPPO IN TEOUBLE. 
 
 A FAR worse trouble than " cat" or " mat" 
 came to poor Beppo a few days afterward. He 
 worked away diligently and steadily in the 
 garden and was always delighted to bring home 
 his little earnings — ^six silver shillings every 
 week — and give them to old Roger. Hayes, 
 the gardener, was kind to him, and so was every 
 one, except Jim Dawson, who also worked in 
 the garden. 
 
 But then, Jim Dawson was kind to no one, 
 not even to his sister Moll, for whom he seemed 
 to have a sort of rough affection. Still, Jim 
 Dawson did his work well enough ; he was 
 very strong and got through a good deal, if he 
 did idle sometimes when Hayes' back was 
 turned. So Hayes was glad to have him. 
 
 Now Hayes had a peach tree of which he 
 
164 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 was particularly proud. It was like his child 
 to him, for he had grown it from a very little 
 thing, and had watched it day by day in the 
 spring, when its beautiful pink buds became 
 pinky-white flowers, and then dropped, and gave 
 way to little hard balls, green and round, that 
 would one day be peaches. He had taken off 
 some of these, so that the rest might be finer, 
 and now there were just four beautiful velvet 
 peaches on the little tree. Such beauties they 
 were ! and soon would come the fruit-show ; 
 and how delightful it would be to see in the 
 county paper that " Mr. Hayes, head gardener 
 to Mr. Seymour, had the first prize for a 
 splendid dish of peaches grown out of doors !" 
 
 Every morning and every evening, and several 
 times in the day, came Mr. Hayes looking after 
 those treasures of his. 
 
 Can you fancy what Mr. Hayes' good-tem 
 pered face looked like when one day, about 
 twelve o'clock, he came past, having already 
 paid '^his babies" a visit once that morning, 
 and found only three? Only three! T!?'' 
 finest of all was gone; neatly gathered from 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 165 
 
 the tree ; so that there could be no sus- 
 picion of accident in the matter. It was too 
 bad. 
 
 Stooping down, Mr. Hayes carefully examined 
 the ground to see if there were any traces of 
 footsteps by which he could discover the thief. 
 
 In one or two places the ground looked a 
 little disturbed, as if some one had hastily 
 covered over the traces of steps with some loose 
 earth. Certainly a cunning thief had been at 
 work, and Mr. Hayes' rage grew more and more 
 violent ; but his rage was quite useless. Storm 
 at the two boys, Jim and Beppo, he could, and 
 he did ; question all the other gardeners, and 
 the grooms, and John the coachman, and the 
 kitchenmaid, and the laundrymaid, and the girl 
 who fed and plucked the fowls ; all this he did, 
 but nothing could bring back his peach, and 
 every one seemed equally innocent in the matter. 
 Mr. Hayes was very angry, and for two days he 
 remained so, spending much of his time in 
 walking about that part of the garden, with his 
 sharp eyes very wide open, and a thick stick in 
 his strong hand. 
 
106 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 AVoe betide the unlucky thief who had gone 
 near the peacli tree on those days ! 
 
 But by the third day Mr. Hayes' wrath had 
 3ooled a little ; besides, he had very good news 
 from a brother in Australia by the noforning 
 post; and so on that day he took a look at the 
 three peaches that were left, and then went 
 away whistling " Rule Britannia !" It was 
 about the only tune he knew, and he whistled 
 it whenever things went well. 
 
 It was a pity that a dark cloud should come 
 up again that day over the sunny landscape of 
 Mr. Hayes' broad red face; but it is a fact that, 
 on coming again to visit his darlings, he found 
 no longer three, but only two ; and under the 
 brick wall were again traces of steps carefully 
 dusted over with earth, as before. 
 
 If Mr. Hayes had been angry before, he was 
 now simply beside himself with passion. He 
 did not storm, neither did he stamp this time — 
 he was too angry for that. 
 
 Striding along the garden walk, without any 
 distinct idea of where he meant to go or wliat 
 to do, Mr. Hayes encountered Beppo, who rose 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 167 
 
 up from his weeding, and looked as if he were 
 about to speak. But the child shrank from the 
 furious face that looked down at him — shrank 
 away, and grew pale with fear. 
 
 Hayes looked at him steadily for a moment, 
 then spoke fiercely, though quietly, trying to 
 control himself. " Well, boy, what have you 
 to say for yourself ?" * 
 
 Guilt was clearly painted on Beppo's face, 
 and in every line of his trembling figure as he 
 stammered out. " P'ease — Mr. Haye — I — so 
 sorry. Not — mean — do it, sir ! 
 
 " Not mean !" answered Hayes in a voice like 
 suppressed thunder. " Sorry ! what can your 
 sorrow do, I'd like to know? Do you know 
 what you have done ? mischief that can never 
 be mended !" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Beppo humbly. 
 
 " Yes, sir ! No excuse ! You little foi'eign 
 brat ! you come along o' me, and get the best 
 thrashing you ever had. Come on, I say !" 
 
 He seized Beppo by the collar, and marching 
 him in front, strode toward the garden tool- 
 house. There were plenty of sticks there that 
 
168 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 woiilcl answer his purpose of severely punishing 
 the wretched little criminn], whose cries, more- 
 over, would attract less notice there, he thought. 
 
 Coming toward them, the angry man and his 
 prisoner met Bryda, singing merrily. 
 
 Her song soon stopped when she saw the 
 poor little criminal in the strong grasp of Mr. 
 Hayes who was policeman, judge, jury, lawyers, 
 jailer, and executioner, all at once. 
 
 " What is the matter ? What has he done V 
 she gasped, quite frightened. 
 
 Hayes stopped. 
 
 ''Done! The little varmint !" giving Beppo 
 a shake as he held him still. "Done, Miss 
 Bryda! Will he dare look you in the face 
 again ? Stolen my peaches, two of them, one 
 after the other — heartless, greedy, thankless 
 little monster as he is ! Stolen my peaches that 
 I hoped would get the prize — ay, he can't 
 deny it !" 
 
 "I not stolen them !" cried Beppo, in bitter 
 distress. "Oh, Miss Bryde! I not — I never 
 done that ! I often bad boy — never stole ! 
 Never! No! No! No!" 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 169 
 
 Bryda remembered the baker's roll, and quite 
 believed him. He was hungry then, but he did 
 not steal. 
 
 " Oh, Hayes ! Indeed, indeed, I am sure he 
 is telling the truth !" she said earnestly. " Please 
 don't be angry with him till you are quite sure, 
 at least." 
 
 ^' Lor', Miss Bryda," said the gardener impa- 
 tiently, "you're that taken up with the sly 
 little rascal you don't believe butter would melt 
 in his mouth. But he spoke up and said he 
 was sorry when I taxed him with it first. It's 
 only the sight of you makes him bold, thinking 
 you'll take his part through thick anil thin. A 
 sneaking, lying little thief ! Never does he do 
 another day's work here !" 
 
 "Miss Bryde," said Beppo, with flashing eyes 
 in which there were no tears, " I not — I never 
 did — not could — think I — steal — tell lies ! 1 
 speak de truth now, and then, both, only I did 
 think Mr. Hayes found something else, and 1 
 did want tell him " 
 
 Here Jim Dawson, who had been looking on 
 at the little scene, stepped up to Beppo sud- 
 
170 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 denly, slipped his hand into Beppo's pocket, 
 and drew out a peach-stone. 
 
 Silence fell on the little group. Bryda, dis- 
 tie-^sed beyond words, looked from one to the 
 other. Beppo, with a strange expression of 
 face; looked at Jim, who stood grinning; and 
 Hayes, after looking at the stone for some sec- 
 onds, as if to be perfectly certain of Beppo's 
 crime, pushed his hand more firmly into the 
 boy's collar, strode to the garden-house, put him 
 in, and said, before he closed the door, " Now, 
 my lad, it's for your good. You bWe there and 
 think of the flogging you'll get so soon as I've 
 time to give it to you." 
 
 Locking the door on the outside, he strode 
 away, with the key in his pocket, leaving Beppo 
 to his miserable expectations of the flogging 
 that he would get ; no light punishment it would 
 be from the heavy hand of an angry man. 
 
 If Beppo was guilty, then miserable enough 
 he was likely to be, with the burdens of a theft 
 and a lie on his mind, and the prospect of 
 punishment to come. 
 
 If, as he said, though appearances were 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 171 
 
 against him, he was innocent, then he need not 
 be very miserable, for a good conscience would 
 be his companion, and the Friend of little 
 children would send him comfort. 
 
 Crouching down in a wretched little heap on 
 the floor, he remained so for some time, not cry- 
 ing, not trembling, but apparently thinking. 
 Then slowly rising, he knelt down in a corner^ 
 .and, clasping his hands, looked through the 
 little window up to the blue sky. 
 
 He need not look to any beautiful angel 
 now, whose help he used to hope for. He had 
 another — better Friend, and quietly he said, 
 half aloud, "Kind Lord Jesus, don't forget 
 Beppo. I in great trouble. Lord Jesus !" 
 
 Was he guilty, or not ? We shall see. 
 
172 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 UP A TREE. 
 
 What did Bryda do when her little play- 
 mate was in such trouble ? Quite as miserable 
 as if she herself were the criminal, she stood 
 still for a few minutes in the garden path. 
 Would there be any chance of coaxing Hayes 
 to forgive Beppo ? That was not very likely. 
 Mr. Hayes, with a face that was simply one 
 frown all over, had walked off in the other 
 direction, and his very back frowned as she 
 looked after him. No, she could not appease 
 Hayes ; but some one else might persuade him 
 that Boppo was not guilty. Who could do 
 this? Should Bryda go indoors and tell the 
 grannies all about it ? That would not be of 
 much use. It would take so long to make them 
 understand ; and perhaps even then they would 
 not wish to interfere. Uncle Jack? He had 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 173 
 
 gone out. Cousin Salome would be very sorry ; 
 but she could not come out and talk to Hayes. 
 
 There was old Roger ! 
 
 Bryda would run off to him and soon get him 
 to come up with her and talk to the angry 
 Hayes. But she must be quick; she did not 
 know how soon Hayes might carry out his 
 threat of coming back to punish the poor little 
 prisoner^ 
 
 Bryda firmly believed he was innocent. She 
 did not understand why Mr. Hayes said he had 
 confessed to having stolen the peaches ; if he 
 had done so she was sure it was from fright. 
 
 " And I am sure Hayes' face was enough to 
 frighten any one," she said to herself. 
 
 Without stopping to think any more, off 
 Bryda ran to the village, as fast as her feet 
 could carry her. 
 
 She did not go by the shrubbery walk, but 
 down the lane that led from the bottom of the 
 garden past Farmer Veitch's houseo 
 
 This farm was about halfwav between the 
 garden and the village, and Bryda, out of breath, 
 Avalked slowly as she passed it. To her great 
 
174 
 
 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 terror she heard behind tlie hedge a low, deep 
 growl. That was Farmer Veitch's bulldog, and 
 he was known to be savage. 
 
 Poor Bryda was not as brave as she used to 
 
 
 
 be, since her adventure with the bull, and this 
 low growl made her start violently. Well, if 
 the gate was only shut the bulldog might growl 
 on till to-morrow behind it, and she would be 
 quite safe. 
 
 But no, the gate was open just a little way — 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 175 
 
 quite enough to let a bulldog through — even a 
 pretty big one, as this was; and in another 
 moment the animal was at Bryda's heels, 
 sniffing at her, and still growling in a horrid, 
 savage way that was worse than a torrent of 
 barks, and showing those white teeth of his 
 that could give such dreadful bites. 
 
 Poor Bryda's courage quite gave way. To 
 run was no use, the dog could run faster. 
 Screaming would no doubt make him bite her 
 at once, instead of taking his time about it. 
 It was as bad as the adventure with Paddy ; 
 and what made it worse was that Bryda was 
 strictly forbidden to go into this lane at all, 
 because there had been some infectious illness 
 at Farmer Veitch's. A huUdog seemed as bad 
 as a bull. 
 
 Should she try the power of the human 
 eye ? She had heard various stories of people 
 who had subdued savage dogs by simply 
 gazing at them fixedly till the brute nature 
 quailed before the human intellects 
 
 But that must require wonderful courage; 
 and probably it would not answer at all if the 
 
176 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 gazer were to look at all afraid. And poor 
 little Bryda was simply terrified. 
 
 At this moment she caught sight of a tree 
 close to her that had low branches, most con- 
 venient for climbing. Dogs cannot climb trees, 
 and the cats know it — ^just as cats cannot fly, 
 and the birds know it, and act accordingly. 
 
 In another moment, with a breathless spring 
 and scramble Bryda was up in the tree. The 
 dog sprang at her, and tore a large piece of her 
 frock, but she was unhurt ; and you may sup- 
 pose she felt glad that there was only a bit 
 of stuif in the sharp white teeth instead of a 
 bit of herself ! 
 
 She lost a shoe, too, in the scramble ; and the 
 dog scratched it and snuffed at it. Breathless, 
 torn as to garments, with one shoeless foot, she 
 climbed up a little higher, so as to be quite 
 safe, and looked down at the dog. 
 
 Of course he would go away now there was 
 no chance of biting her. And then she would 
 jump down and run for her life to the village. 
 From her secure height she grew bold, and 
 spoke valiantly to the dog. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 177 
 
 ^' Poor fellow ! good dog, tlien ! Go home, 
 sir ! Go to kennel ! Home, sir !" 
 
 The dog only growled the more, but did not 
 go away at all. He did not seem to care to go 
 home. Well, then, perhaps he would like to 
 hunt cats, after the cruel fashion of dogs? 
 
 "Hunt!" went on Bryda. " Good boy ! Cats! 
 Puss, puss! Cats! After them! catch them, 
 good dog !" 
 
 But this bulldog was a strange animal. He 
 did not seem to care for cats; but curled him- 
 self round at the foot of the tree, and ls:e[)t his 
 eye on Bryda, who was really almost as much a 
 prisoner as Beppo. 
 
 Really, this was dreadful — when Bryda was 
 in such a hurry, too ! Perhaps she would not 
 be in time to save Beppo. Where were all the 
 people of the farm ? She would call loudly to 
 them: "Mrs. Veitch! Farmer!" 
 
 Directly she began to call, the dog jumped 
 up barking, and sprang at her. True, he could 
 not quite reach her, but he came dreadfully 
 close, and his barks were enough to drown her 
 calling. 
 
178 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 By and by, however, the farmhouse door 
 opened, and an old woman looked out. She 
 was the only person near, for it was harvest, 
 and all the men were busy, and all the women 
 binding sheaves with them. Her dim eyes 
 caught sight of a figure in the tree, and when 
 Bryda called again to her she laughed and 
 shook her fist. 
 
 " Ay, ay !" she said. "Young thieves from 
 the village arter farmer's apples ! Well, you 
 bide there a bit, it'll gie ye something to 
 remember." 
 
 So saying, and laughing to hei'self over this 
 capital punishment for apple-stealers, she went 
 back into the house and shut the door. 
 
 So there was Bryda, like Mahomet's coffin, 
 hung between the sky and earth ; and there 
 she sat, feeling very angry with the old woman, 
 very much vexed about Beppo, and very much 
 afraid of the dog. 
 
 That amiable animal made himself a sentinel, 
 and declined to move. No scolding, no coaxing 
 on Bryda's part, had any effect. There he was, 
 and there he meant to be; and Bryda sat on a 
 
Bryda called to the old woman, who laughed and shook her fist.— Page 178, 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 179 
 
 branch, swinging her long black legs, and wish- 
 ing she had wings, so that she might fly away 
 from all her present troubles. 
 
 She might have been rather amused but for 
 two things that much distressed her. One 
 was Beppo's peril, and the other the knowledge 
 that the grannies would be vexed at her being 
 in the lane at all, when she had for such a good 
 reason been forbidden to go there. 
 
 At last she felt so downhearted that she was 
 very much inclined to cry, but that she would 
 not do, because the horrible dog would see her, 
 and probably he would feel pleased. So there 
 she remained. 
 
 "I wonder where Bryda is?" said grand- 
 mother. She had been waiting ever so long for 
 her knitting, for which she had sent her grand- 
 daughter to the garden. 
 
 " I hope she is not in mischief," said Mr. 
 Seymour. 
 
 "Most likely she forgot," said Uncle Jack, 
 who had come in again. " I will go to the 
 garden and look for the little puss." 
 
 In the garden he did not see Hayes, but met 
 
180 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Jim Dawson, and asked if he had seen Miss 
 Bryda. Jim told him that she had gone down 
 the lane, and off he went in pursuit. 
 
 You may suppose Bryda was glad to hear his 
 firm steps on the hard ground, and to call to 
 him as he came down the lane without fear of 
 his going off and leaving her. 
 
 But Uncle Jack, though he sent the dog off 
 and helped her down, suppressed any inclina- 
 tion he may have had to laugh, and asked for 
 grandmother's knitting very gravely. Nor did 
 he seem to think that Beppo's threatened pun- 
 ishment justified her disobedience. 
 
 " If he stole the fruit he deserved to be pun- 
 ished, and you ought not to try and screen him, 
 Bryda. You may be sure Hayes would be care- 
 ful not to punish him else. He has boys of 
 his own. 
 
 So Bryda, very downhearted, walked by his 
 side back to the house. He would not inter- 
 fere, nor let her go on to Boger, and all she 
 could do was to fetch the knitting, and hope 
 the grannies would forgive her disobedience. 
 
 Perhaps the reason why Bryda, wuth the best 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 181 
 
 intentions, got into trouble when she least ex- 
 pected, was because she did not stop to think, 
 but went off in a great hurry to carry out her 
 plans. 
 
 By the time she reached the garden, three 
 quarters of an hour, or perhaps an hour, had 
 passed. She went straight to the tool-house. 
 Beppo was not there. She called, and no one 
 answered; the gardeners had gone to their 
 dinner, so Bryda, rather slowly and sadly, went 
 in to get ready for her own. 
 
182 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 POOR moll! 
 
 While Bryda was running wildly down the 
 lane Cousin Salome had a very unusual sort of 
 visitor. An untidy girl, who had taken more 
 time to put ribbons in her hair than to brush it, 
 and whose necklace of glass beads matched ill 
 with lier unmended frock, stood by the couch 
 of the gentle invalid. It had taken a long while 
 for Moll Dawson to gather courage to come up 
 to the house, though Cousin Salome had sent 
 many messages by her maid ; but here she was 
 at last, looking half-impudent, half-bashful, and 
 altogether uncomfortable, till Cousin Salome 
 gradually melted her shyness by talking about 
 the adventure of the bull, and about Bryda, and 
 Beppo, and various other things. Then gently 
 she began to talk about the girl's own past life, 
 and again Moll spoke in the hard, defiant voice, 
 which told how truly unhappy she was. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 183 
 
 "Did you ever go to churcli?" asked Cousin 
 Salome. ^ 
 
 " Yes, I went into a chnrch once," said Moll 
 thoughtfully, *^ an' I heard a preaehin', and the 
 
 parson talked about children of wrath, and the 
 bad place waiting for 'em." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I can read and write after a fashion," 
 she went on, in answ^er to Cousin Salome's ques- 
 tions. " I went to school only half -time, and 
 worked in the factory the other, so as not to 
 have too much school." 
 
184 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 And Moll drew herself up, and laughed and 
 showed her white teeth, and was, to all appear- 
 ance, quite proud of being so naughty. But all 
 the same she gave a little sigh as she looked 
 again at the invalid's white, sweet face, and 
 pitying eyes. 
 
 "I reckon youVe always been good," she 
 went on rapidly. "It isn't hard for the likes of 
 you neither." 
 
 She looked round the white, quiet room, and 
 Cousin Salome looked, too, and she sighed a 
 moment before she smiled again with a happier 
 thought. Ah, there were temptations in that 
 still, comfortable room, too. Evil spirits would 
 enter even there, and whisper discontent, and 
 fretf Illness, and impatience to the sufferer who 
 had lain there so long; but Salome smiled again, 
 because she knew that the promise was for her 
 and for poor Moll, " When thou passest through 
 the waters I am with thee." 
 
 And in her gentle, low-toned voice slie began 
 to tell the poor ignorant girl of that good 
 Shepherd w^ho gave his life for the sheep. 
 
 " Even for me !" said Moll, at last, and buried 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 185 
 
 her face in Iier hands and sobbed. It seemed 
 too good to be true. 
 
 Cousin Salome's maid, hearing tlie sobs, came 
 from the next room, fearing that the invalid 
 would be over-tired; and, by way of making a 
 
 change of conversation, began to tell how she 
 had been in the garden, of Hayes' wrath, and 
 Beppo's punishment. 
 
 " And no wonder he should turn out badly, 
 ma'am," she said; "they tramping foreigners 
 aren't likely to come to good. Let him go to 
 the Union, I say." 
 
186 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Moll Dawson had listened attentively. Now 
 she rose, put on her crushed hat, and smoothed 
 its showy but shabby red feather. 
 
 "I'll come again — may I, miss?'' she said. 
 ^*It's like going to lieaveu to come in here." 
 
 Salome gave her a ready welcome, and Moll's 
 heavy step became a careful tiptoe walk as she 
 crossed the room. 
 
 Once outside the house, however, Moll walked 
 fast enough to the garden, and there went all 
 round the walks till she found Mr. Hayes. He 
 had finished his round of the vineries, and was 
 going to the tool-house, to carry out his threat 
 to Beppo, when this wild looking girl met him. 
 
 " Mr. Hayes," she said, " you let that foreign 
 boy go, will you ? He never took your peaches, 
 no more nor you did yourself." 
 
 " Oh !" said Hayes, looking at her with no 
 pleased eyes, as she spoke thus boldly; "per- 
 haps you know who did take them, if youVe so 
 sure it wasn't Beppo ?" 
 
 "Perhaps I do!" retorted Moll coolly; "any- 
 how, you'll not flog a boy as hasn't done any- 
 thing, 1 suppose ?" 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 187 
 
 " Unless I know wlio was the thief I shall 
 suppose it was Beppo," replied Hayes sulkily. 
 "Why, he owned it himself; but if you can 
 prove some one else did it, and that the stone 
 came into his pocket quite by accident, why. 
 then, of course, I shall believe you, Moll 
 Dawson." 
 
 He spoke in tones of utter contempt ; indeed, 
 poor Moll was not often treated with much 
 respect. 
 
 She stood still a moment, with her eyes cast 
 down; then, as Hayes began to move, with a 
 great effort she said, " Well, there, then, Ztook 
 them; will that satisfy you?" 
 
 "You did?" said Hayes, scowling at her. "I 
 fancy you are telling lies, Moll Dawson; they 
 come easier to yon than the truth, I know." 
 
 Moll colored crimson, but did not answer. 
 
 "I suppose you put the stone into Beppo's 
 pocket so as he should be accused," went on 
 Hayes, looking searchingly at her. 
 
 Moll nodded in silence. 
 
 "I don't know who to believe, or what to 
 to believe," he answered; '^I hnow somebody's 
 
J 88 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 telling lies, and perhaps it's both of you. Any- 
 how " 
 
 Here he walked off to the tool-house and un- 
 locked the door. 
 
 " Come out !" he said roughly. And Beppo 
 came looking quite collected now. 
 
 " Look here, young un," said Hayes in a very 
 much softened tone, " IVo boys of my own, and 
 rd be sorry to flog one of them if he didn't 
 deserve it. Just you look up at me now, and 
 tell me the whole truth." 
 
 Beppo looked up in the gardener's face, and 
 his dark eyes were calm and clear; he did 
 not look like a ciiminal. 
 
 His broken English was rather funny, but 
 Hayes soon understood that he had in truth 
 done a small piece of mischief. His foot 
 slipped as he was working, and he fell against 
 a melon-frame and broke a pane of glass. A 
 cut on one finger showed that he spoke the 
 truth. As to the peaches, he would rather starve 
 than touch one of them. " And I very sorry 
 for you, Mr. Hayes," he added. 
 
 Hayes was quite touched. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 189 
 
 " Go home and get your dinner. I quite be- 
 lieve you, my boy," he said. ^' Stay, come in 
 and have a bit of dinner with my wife and 
 young folks." 
 
 Beppo went, and from that day forward had 
 a steady friend in Hayes. 
 
 "As for yon, Moll Dawson," said the gar- 
 dener sharply, "you get along out of this. 
 And if ever I catch you anywhere near the 
 garden again you'll go before the magistrate, 
 as sure as my name's Hayes." 
 
 Moll turned away without a word, and went 
 slowly back to the village. 
 
 Light was coming slowly to her dark mind 
 as the dawn comes on a troubled sea. She had 
 told a lie to Playes — for what reason we shall 
 see ; but she did not understand yet that it 
 was a sin. " A white lie," she called it, a lie 
 told for a good purpose. Thinking over all 
 that Cousin Salome had said to her, she went 
 slowly home and sought her brother Jim. Close 
 to the house she met him. 
 
 " Jim," she s.aid, " I've told a lie to save you 
 to-day ; now you do something for me." 
 
190 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 *^ All right, old girl," said Jim, indifferently ; 
 ^^one lie more or less don't matter much, I 
 reckon. What do you want out of me?" 
 
 " I said I stole the peaches, instead of you," 
 said Moll, going on with her story. 
 
 " My stars !" cried Jim. " What a go ! I 
 wonder old Hayes didn't half murder you ! 
 What did he say ?" 
 
 " Never you mind," said Moll. " I've got you 
 out of a hole, and that's enough for you. Now 
 you do something for me — tit for tat, Jim." 
 
 " What's up now ?" asked her brother, struck 
 by a gentleness in her tone which was quite 
 new. 
 
 " Leave yon old carpenter and his coin alone," 
 said she. " Look here, Jim, I never asked you 
 to leave a good job like that for me before, 
 but do you give up robbing him, there's a good 
 lad." 
 
 " Why, whatever has come to the girl ? And 
 you the first to put it in my head to get in at 
 night, and make the old chap show where he 
 keeps those miserly savings o' his you say he 
 hides in his house!" 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 191 
 
 *^ Do you let him alone, Jim," entreated Moll. 
 " I know you and Plarry Crowther mean to get 
 in to-morrow night, and no one'll hinder, for the 
 old man's house stands a bit away. I'll not 
 help in the job, Jim, and if you give up too " 
 
 '*• What will you give me V sneered Jim. 
 "Make it worth my while, Moll, and I might 
 think of it." 
 
 " How can I ?" said Moll. " Give it up, Jim. 
 Suppose you got caught ?" 
 
 " You mean to round on me !" said Jim 
 savagely, seizing her arm as he spoke, and 
 crushing it in his strong fingers till Moll had to 
 set her teeth not to scream aloud. " You want 
 to get your brother a nice pleasant time in jail ! 
 You're a nice loving sister, you are ! Now, look 
 you here, Moll; you do that, and I'll break 
 every bone in your body as soon as ever I get 
 out again." 
 
 " I'm not quite so mean," answered Moll ; " I 
 never would get you into trouble, Jim, and that 
 you know as well as I do. But I'll do my best 
 to get you and Harry Crowther, too, to let an 
 old man alone. What's to be done with yon 
 
192 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 little (lark-eyed chap, him they call Beppo, or 
 some such outlandish name, if you get all the 
 old man's savings? Precious little you care who 
 starv^es so long as you get all you want. Come 
 now, do this one thing for me, like a good lad, 
 Jim," she went on, with a rough effort at coax- 
 ing him. 
 
 But Jim only told her to mind her own busi- 
 ness. So Moll went away and left him. 
 
 All the rest of the day she kept wondering 
 how this robbery could be prevented, and at 
 last, as the evening closed in, an idea struck her. 
 If no inducement could prevail on Jim, she had 
 this plan to fall back on. 
 
 She would not "round on " Jim ; that is, she 
 would tell no tales. She would not tell tales, 
 or give warning to his intended victims, but she 
 had an idea of her own. Whether she was 
 able to carry it out with success we shall see. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "where thieves break through." 
 
 Two or three nights after this, Roger and 
 
 Beppo — who was noAV as happy as possible 
 had gone to bed quietly as usual, and had both 
 fallen asleep, when Beppo awoke with a start, 
 and sat up in bed. He did not know at first 
 why he had awakened so suddenly, and he could 
 hear, by the old carpenter's (juiet and regular 
 breathing, that he still slept. But Roger was 
 a little deaf, and the noise that woke Beppo was 
 not loud enough to rouse him. It was, indeed, 
 not meant to rouse anybody, for, as Beppo was 
 falling to sleep again, he heard it once more, and 
 this time sat up in bed and strained his ears to 
 catch the sound. 
 
 There could be no doubt about it : stealthy 
 footsteps were moving outside ; whispering 
 voices speaking close to the house ; then the 
 
194 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 latch was lifted very gently, and let down with 
 a little click. Poor Beppo, sitting up in bed, 
 felt his heart beat so loud that he fancied the 
 people outside must hear it, although the room 
 in which he slept was divided from the kitchen 
 into which thieves were trying to break. 
 
 For a moment he sat overcome by terror, but 
 it was only for a moment. Quietly and quickly 
 he stole out of bed, and proceeded to dress 
 himself as noiselessly as possible. He would 
 creep out of another window — the window of 
 the bedroom — without disturbing Roger ! And 
 in order to delay the thieves, in case they should 
 get into the kitchen before he could bring help, 
 he bolted the bedroom door on the inside. 
 Then, not waiting for shoes or stockings, he 
 gently opened the casement window, and began 
 to try and wriggle through. 
 
 It was no easy matter, especially as the win- 
 dow was very small, and he dared not make a 
 sound. The house stood so much apart that he 
 felt it would be useless to call aloud for help ; 
 it was probable no one would hear him except 
 the thieves, who would not give him time for 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 195 
 
 more than one shout. All the neighbors would 
 be sleeping the sound sleep of working men and 
 women, and the only chance of rousing them 
 would be to hammer on their doors and rattle 
 their windows till they woke. A policeman 
 would take longer to find. Beppo's hasty plan 
 was to run for the nearest neighbors — John 
 Broome, the blacksmith, and Alick Thornicrof t, 
 the shepherd. 
 
 With much difficulty he was squeezing 
 through the tiny window, when, in the faint 
 starlight — for the night was very dark, except 
 for the pale rays of a few stars shining between 
 spaces in the clouds — he caught sight of a most 
 extraordinary object. The window of the bed- 
 room through which he was wriggling was at 
 the side of the house, and he could hear the 
 thieves working away with some tools to force 
 open the front window. Suddenly the slight 
 noise they were making ceased, and it seemed 
 as if they too were looking at the very strange 
 figure that now aj^peared in sight. 
 
 Slowly it came out of the shade of some dark, 
 thick trees ; a very tall, straight figure, with one 
 
196 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 arm extended, pointing to the place where the 
 housel)reakers stood. 
 
 Beppo, half out of the window, gazed, horror- 
 stricken, at this object, which, with the super- 
 stition of his country, he felt sure was an evil 
 spirit, come to terrify, or perhaps to carry oflF, the 
 evildoers. They seemed frightened too, for as 
 the figure very slowly moved along, not, how- 
 ever, coming near as yet, Beppo heard them 
 whispering to each other. 
 
 *' Let's go home ; I don't like the look of that 
 —that thing !" 
 
 " Who's afraid ?" sneered the other voice. 
 
 " Hush ! it's speaking," said the first. 
 
 "Jim Dawson," said a low, deep tone that 
 seemed to come from the figure, " I know you !" 
 
 "Come away, Jim," whispered one of the 
 thieves. "I'm off." 
 
 " Stop, Harry Crowther !" said the figure. 
 
 " Harry, you simpleton, come back !" cried 
 Jim Dawson in the same low, cautious tone in 
 which he had all along spoken. " Look here, 
 lad." 
 
 As he spoke he stooped and picked up a 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 197 
 
 heavy and ratber sharp stone, which with his 
 whole strength he flung at the figure that 
 stood, still pointing at him, only a few yards 
 off. 
 
 When the stone struck the figure, it fell with 
 a deep groan to the earth ; and it lay in a con- 
 fused heap, motionless. 
 
 "Well done, Jim!" said Harry Crowther ; 
 and the worthy couple went to work again on 
 the window frame. 
 
 Beppo delayed no longer, but got quietly out 
 of the window, dropped carefully to the ground, 
 stole away till he reached a dark shadow, avoid- 
 ing the spot where the heap lay, and then was 
 off like the wind, down the lane, and up the 
 blacksmith's garden path. 
 
 Meantime, the burglars easily made for them- 
 selves an entrance through the window, and 
 went searching the kitchen, poking into every 
 nook and corner to find the old caipenter's 
 hidden riches. 
 
 " This is no go !" said Crowther at last, find- 
 ing absolutely nothing but a very old silver 
 watch, which he promptly pocketed. "We 
 
198 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 must wake tlie old boy, and ask him where 
 the ^swag' is." 
 
 ^^ Eight, mate ! Misers always have some 
 queer hole of their own to put their tin in," 
 answered Jim, still hunting about the kitchen. 
 
 The sound of a saucepan falling, which Jim's 
 clumsy hands let go, woke old Koger, who, see- 
 ing a light in the kitchen, suddenly appeared 
 in the doorway with an old coat hastily thrown 
 over his shoulders. 
 
 " Look ! he's saved us the trouble," said one 
 of them. 
 
 " Ah !" growled the other. ** He'll know us 
 now, and we'll be had up for this." 
 
 Jim Dawson seized the poker, and, advan- 
 cing to the old man, brandished it above his 
 head. 
 
 " Now, look here, old Roger," he said, " we 
 want your money, but we don't want your life 
 — that's no use to us. Now, just give us up 
 those savings, quiet and peaceable, and off we 
 go, if you promise fii'st to hold that tongue of 
 yours." 
 
 "Old miser!" went on Harry Crowther, 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 199 
 
 " where do you keep all your gold ? Out with 
 it !" 
 
 " I have no gold, my lad," answered old 
 Roger. His voice trembled a little ; it may 
 have been from cold, or from fear, or both. 
 
 " That's a lie !" cried Jim. " Who told little 
 miss at the house up here about all the treasure 
 he kept hid away ? Come now, out with it 
 quietly, before I make you." 
 
 " Ah ! I understand," said old Eoger quietly. 
 " There's plenty of that treasure for thee, my 
 lad, enough and to spare. It's all in here — 
 all in here." 
 
 He tottered slowly across the floor — such a 
 feeble old man he seemed ! — till he reached his 
 little workshop on the opposite side of the 
 kitchen. Into this room the thieves follovNed 
 him, with eyes full of greedy expectation. 
 Roger went up to a little table, and took tliere- 
 from an old book in strong, plain binding, that 
 seemed to have been much used. 
 
 There were probably banknotes hidden be- 
 tween the pages, thought the burglars, and Jim 
 Dawson snatched it from his hand roughly. 
 
200 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 *' It's all there, ' where neither moth Dor rust 
 doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break 
 tlirough nor steal,' " repeated Old Roger. 
 
 Jim Dawson rapidly searched the book, hold- 
 ing it upside down, that anything loose might 
 fall out, and examining the cover, to see if there 
 were any secret place. But it was only an old 
 Bible, and with a yell he sprang at the defense- 
 less old man, and would have injured him 
 seriously, had it not been at this moment there 
 came a sound of the door opening, and foot- 
 steps in the kitchen. 
 
 Beppo had come with the blacksmith and the 
 shepherd, and a sturdy young farmer whom he 
 had met on the way back. 
 
 The thieves were caught in a trap. Beppo, 
 creeping quietly through the larger window, 
 had let in these kind friends; and before Jim 
 Dawson and his bad companion could think of 
 escape they were seized by strong hands and 
 held fast. 
 
 A policeman was soon brought, and as they 
 and their captors were leaving the house they 
 passed that queer heap. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 20^ 
 
 " What's this V said Thornicroft ; ^' some one 
 been following you V 
 
 " Some one who tried to frighten me," said 
 Jim Dawson sullenly ; ^' so I up with a stone." 
 
 "And killed your own sister," said the black- 
 smith, raising the figure gently. 
 
 It was indeed poor Moll ; but she was not 
 dead, only stunned and senseless. 
 
20a MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 **FRIEND, GO UP HIGHEr!" 
 
 There came at last, uext day, a governess 
 for Bryda ; and she, remembering Miss Quillnib, 
 the only teacher she had ever had, except 
 mother, expected an elderly lady with prim 
 dress and iron -gray curls. But it is hard to say 
 if she was most surprised or pleased to see a 
 bright-faced young girl who could not be more 
 than twenty-one or twenty -two, who was nicely 
 dressed, and looked as if she could enjoy 
 amusing things quite as well as Miss Bryda 
 herself. 
 
 Bryda put her through a short catechism 
 when her shyness had worn off a little, which 
 was by the time that she and the governess had 
 settled down to tea in the cosy schoolroom. 
 
 " Miss Mervyn, do you like jam V she asked, 
 
Bryda laughed, and then grew solemn.— Page 203. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 203 
 
 SO very gravely that the young lady burst into 
 an extremely merry laugh. 
 
 " Very much," she said, trying to be as grave 
 as her pupil; "especially raspberry! We used 
 to call that ^real jam,' at ray home." 
 
 "Did you?" said Bryda. "But do you like 
 lessons better than play ?" 
 
 " Certainly not !" said Miss Mervyn. " Only 
 the play would get very stupid if it went on 
 every day, all day long. So I like some lessons, 
 too. How should you like to live on Jam 
 without any bread, Bryda ?" 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 " Well, I think the working part of the day 
 is the bread to make the play seem nice. How 
 would a cake be that was only currants and 
 sugar ?" 
 
 Bryda laughed, and then she grew solemn 
 again. " But I doinJt like dates," she said. 
 
 "No more do I," answered Miss Mervyn. 
 " That is, I don't like too many at once. But I 
 suppose you never remember your birthday, 
 Bryda?" 
 
 "Twenty -first of June!" said the pupil 
 
204 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 promptly. "But then I know all about that, 
 and it's a very nice sort of day !" 
 
 "Well, if T were to give you a packet of 
 sweeties every year on the day of the battle of 
 Waterloo, would it be easy to remember?" 
 
 " It might," answered Breda. 
 
 " Then let us try to divide the day between 
 lessons and i>lay, so that we may have the proper 
 quantities of bread and jam? Shall we, dear?" 
 
 "Yes, that will be nice! And, oh! Miss 
 Mervyn," burst out Bryda, " will you sometimes 
 come and see old Koger ?" She had thought of 
 little else all day. 
 
 "Who is old Roger?" asked Miss Mervyn. 
 
 Bryda poured out all the story of Roger and 
 of Beppo, and of her first adventure in the 
 Dawsons' cottage, and of all that had happened 
 since. 
 
 The story lasted till there came a knock at 
 the door, and Uncle Jack entered. 
 
 " Well, Uncle Jack ! w^hat have they done to 
 Jim Dawson?" cried Bryda. 
 
 "Jim has been sent to prison," answered 
 Uncle Jack; "when his time of punishment is 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 205 
 
 over we will see what can be done for him. 
 And Moll is not dead, Bryda; that is what I 
 came up to tell you — that and something else. 
 Moll will recover, and when she leaves the 
 infirmary Cousin Salome has a little plan for 
 her, which will take her away among kind 
 people, who will teach her and help her to be 
 good." 
 
 " AVhat was the something else. Uncle Jack ?" 
 
 "The something else was that old Roger 
 would like to see you to-morrow morning, if 
 Miss Mervyn will be good enough to take you 
 there, as early as possible," he said. " Roger is 
 going to his palace, Bryda, and he may start to- 
 morrow, so he would like to say good-by." 
 
 " How nice for Roger," said Bryda. " Aren't 
 you glad he is going. Uncle Jack ? You spoke 
 quite sadly. I suppose you will miss old Roger ; 
 I am sure I shall." 
 
 " Yes, I am very glad," said Uncle Jack, in a 
 voice that shook a little. Evidently he would 
 miss old Roger very much indeed. 
 
 "Poor Liz !" said Bryda, as she went to bed, 
 " I am so sorry she cannot go too !" 
 
206 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 When Miss Mervyn and Bryda went down to 
 Roger's cottage in the morning, it seemed won- 
 derfully quiet. There was no sound of the car- 
 penter's diligent work — all his tools were neatly 
 laid aside. The cottage looked as though it 
 were Sunday. Roger was going home; he 
 would need his tools no more. 
 
 Going into the inner room, they found old 
 Roger in bed propped up with pillows, while 
 Beppo, crouched at the foot of the bed, kept his 
 big, dark eyes fixed, with a very sorrowful look, 
 on the old man's face. 
 
 Then, and not till then, did Bryda suddenly 
 understand what it all meant ; and with a little 
 cry of " Oh, Roger, don't die !" she sprang to 
 the bedside. 
 
 " Gently, dear," said Miss Mervyn following 
 her. 
 
 ^' Oh, I will be still !" sobbed Bryda ; but, 
 oh, Roger, I never thought you meant dying, 
 when you told me about your palace. And it 
 was because I did not understand, and told 
 Moll Dawson about youi' treasures, that all this 
 has happened ! Oh, it's my fault !'' she sobbed. 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 201 
 
 '^"N^o, dear," said Miss Mervyn gently. "It 
 is not your fault. But next time things puzzle 
 you, Bryda, ask some one to explain them." 
 
 There was a smile as beautiful as the calm 
 light of a summer's sunset on the old man's 
 face. How glad he seemed to be going Home ! 
 With something of an effort he spoke : 
 
 " They shall see the King in His beauty . . . 
 the land that is very far off. In My Father's 
 house . . . many mansions ... a place for 
 you . . . that means one for me too, Miss 
 Bryda !" 
 
 "And one for Liz," said Bryda quickly. 
 
 " Ah ! Liz will be able to show me round, she's 
 been there for so long . . . she'll teach me the 
 ways o' the place, and the new song they sing 
 there. She w^as always a good singer, was Liz, 
 and loved it." 
 
 " For Beppo one place, too," said a little voice 
 from the foot of the bed. 
 
 " One place for all the children of the King, 
 if they have kept their garments white," said 
 Miss Mervyn. 
 
 "Yes," went on Roger faintly, "where the 
 
208 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 Lord God giveth light . . . Wipeth away all 
 tears . . . One thing more . , . What is it?" 
 His memory seemed to fail, then again returned. 
 
 " Yes, that's it . . . Not all rest and singing 
 . . . His servants shall serve Him . . . work 
 for old E-oger . . . work for Beppo . . . for all, 
 work and rest. But there's something more . . . 
 something good " 
 
 His voice failed completely. 
 
 "Yes, there is," said Miss Mervyn; 'Hhe 
 best thing of all ! ' They shall see His 
 Face!'" 
 
 A smile of exquisite delight came over the 
 old man's face. He spoke no more, but lay 
 back on *his pillows, gazing before him and fold- 
 ing his hands, as if already he had some fore- 
 taste of that wonderful promise, given long ago 
 to the pure in heart, "They shall see God !" 
 
 And then, from utter weakness, he fell into a 
 gentle sleep, like that of a child, with that same 
 smile on his face. 
 
 Thus Miss Mervyn, and even Bryda and 
 little Beppo, as t-h^y looked, could understand 
 how true are the words of the Apostle, " Every 
 
MIXED PICKLES. 209 
 
 man tbat hath this hope in him purifieth him- 
 self, even as He is pure." 
 
 They would try to be of the number of those 
 for whom the many mansions are prepared ; of 
 those, like Roger, 
 
 " The guileless in their way. 
 
 Who keep the ranks of battle. 
 Who mean the things they say.^^ 
 
 They stood watching old Roger's sleep for a 
 little while, and then Miss Mervyn gently drew 
 Bryda away; and Beppo and Mrs. Mears, the 
 kind parish nurse and Bible woman, w^ere left to 
 watch the sleeper. 
 
 Before that day was ended old Roger had set 
 out on his journey — had gone to join Liz in the 
 Palace of the King. 
 
 The shock of Jim Dawson's attempted rob- 
 bery, and a chill caught at the same time, 
 were more than Roger's enfeebled frame could 
 stand. 
 
 Cousin Salome wrote a little poem about 
 him ; but she said, and all agreed with her, that 
 
210 MIXED PICKLES. 
 
 the old man's life and deatli were a better poem, 
 written in God's book of history, where per- 
 haps the names that we think great and famous 
 are not the most conspicuous. 
 
 His body was laid beside that of Liz. and 
 Biyda gathered the freshest flowers and made 
 two wreaths every Sunday moraing. 
 
 And Beppo? A well to-do farmer's wife, 
 who had no child, offered to adopt him, and 
 make him quite like her own child. Cousin 
 Salome was not sure if the plan would woi-k 
 well, so she proposed that the boy should go 
 for a month at first. And he went ; and at the 
 end of the month the farmer's wife declared that 
 she must be allowed to keep him, if only be- 
 cause he was such a capital advertisement of 
 her good milk and butter, since he had grown 
 so much fatter and stronger. Now and then he 
 was allowed to come and spend the day witli 
 Bryda, for the grannies said he was " a perfect 
 little gentleuian, who could do Bryda no harm." 
 
 Bryda had no more need to complain of being 
 lonely, or of having nothing to do. By the time 
 that she had done her lessons diligently, and 
 
MIXED PICKLES. ^11 
 
 played heartily with Miss Mervyn, who was 
 very good at battledore and shuttlecock and other 
 capital games, and had found time to do " some- 
 thing for someone else," in which Miss Mervyn 
 was always ready to help her, why the day was 
 gone, and it was bedtime. That is the great 
 secret of not getting into scrapes, to have plenty 
 to do, and Uncle Jack was obliged to confess 
 one day, when Bryda insisted on an answer to 
 her question, that he could no longer truthfully 
 gay that she " lived in a jar of Mixed Pickles." 
 
 THE END. 
 
A, L. Burt's Catalogue of Books for 
 Young People by Popular Writers, 52- 
 58 Duane Street, New York ^ ^ >< 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. By Lewis Carroll. 
 
 12mo, cloth, 42 illustrations, price 75 cents. 
 
 "From first to last, almost without exception, this story is delightfully 
 droll, humorous and illustrated in harmony with the story." — New York 
 Express. 
 
 Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found 
 
 There. By Lewis Carroll. 12ino, cloth, 50 illustrations, price 75 cents. 
 **A delight alilie to the young people and their elders, extremely funny 
 both in text and illustrations." — Boston Express. 
 
 Little Lucy's Wonderful Globe. By Charlotte M. 
 
 YoNGE. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This story is unique among tales intended for children, alilie for pleas- 
 ant instruction, quaintness of humor, gentle pathos, and the subtlety with 
 which lessons moral and otherwise are conveyed to children, and perhaps 
 to their seniors as well." — The Spectator. 
 
 Joan's Adventures at the North Pole and Elsewhere. 
 
 By Alice Corkran. ISino, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Wonderful as the adventures of Joan are, it must be admitted that 
 they are very naturally worked out and very plausibly presented. Alto- 
 gether this is an excellent story for girls." — Saturday Review. 
 
 Count Up the Sunny Days : A Story for Girls and Boys. 
 
 By C. A. Jones. 12nio, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "An unusually good children's story." — Glasg'ow Herald. 
 
 The Dove in the Eagle's Nest. By Charlotte M. 
 
 YoNGE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price SI. 00. 
 
 "Among all the modern writers we believe Miss Yonge first, not in 
 genius, but in this, that she employs her great abilities for a high and 
 noble purpose'. We know of few modern writers whose works may be so 
 safely commended as hers." — Cleveland Times. 
 
 Jan of the Windmill. A Story of the Plains. By Mrs. 
 
 J. H. EwiNG. 12mo, cloth, iUustrated, price SLOO. 
 
 "Never has Mrs. Ewing published a more charming volume, and that 
 is saying a very great deal. From the first to the last the book over- 
 tlows v\'ith tho strange knowledge of child-nature which so rarely sur- 
 vives childhood; and moreover, with inexhaustible quiet humor, which 
 is never anything but innocent and well-bred, never priggish, and never 
 clumsy. " — Academy. 
 
 A Sweet Girl Graduate. By L. T. Meade. 12nio, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price $1.00. y( 
 
 "One of this popular author's best. The characters are well imagined 
 and drawn. The story moves with plenty of spirit and the interest does 
 not flag until the end too quickly comes." — Providence Journal. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
2 A. L. BURT^SS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Six to Sixteen: A Story for Girls. By Juliana 
 
 HoRATiA EvviNG. 12ino, clotli, illustrated, price §1.00. 
 
 "There is no doubt as to the good quality and attractiveness of 'Six to 
 Sixteen.' The book Is one which would enrich any girl's book shelf." — 
 St. James' Gazette. 
 
 Y The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls. By L. T. 
 
 Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price SI. 00. 
 
 "A bright and interesting story. The many admirers of Mrs. L. T. 
 Meade in this country will be delighted with the 'Palace Beautiful' for 
 more reasons than one. It is a charming booli for girls." — New York 
 Recorder. 
 
 A World of Girls: The Story of a School. By L. T. 
 
 Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of those wholesome stories which it does one good to read. It 
 will afford pure dtdight to numerous readers. This book should be on 
 every girl's booli shelf." — Boston Home Journal. 
 
 X The Lady of the Forest : A Story for Girls. By L. T. 
 
 Meade. 12rno, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "This story is written in the author's well-known, fresh and easy style. 
 All girls fond of reading will be charmed by this well-written story. It 
 is told with the autlT»r's customary grace and spirit." — Boston Times. 
 
 At the Back of the North Wind. By George Mac- 
 
 DONALD. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "A very pretty story, with much of the freshness and vigor of Mr. Mac- 
 donald's earlier work. . . . It is a sweet, earnest, and wholesome fairy 
 story, and the quaint native humor is delightful. A most delightful vol- 
 ume for young readers." — Philadelphia Times. 
 
 The Water Bahies: A Fairy Tale for a Land Baby. 
 
 By Charles Kingsley. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The strength of his work, as well as its peculiar charms, consist In 
 his description of the experiences of a youth with life under water in the 
 luxuriant wealth of which he revels with all the ardor of a poetical na- 
 ture." — New York Tribune. 
 
 Our Bessie. By Rosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, illus- 
 
 strated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of the most entertaining stories of the season, full of vigorous 
 action, and strong in character-painting. Elder girls will Ih> charmed with 
 it, and adults may read its pages with profit." — The Teachers' Aid. 
 
 X Wild Kitty. A Story of Middleton School. By L. T. 
 
 Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.(X). 
 
 "Kitty is a true heroine — warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all 
 good women nowadays are, largely touched with the enthusiasm of human- 
 ity. One of the most attractive gift books of the season." — The Academy. 
 
 A Young Mutineer. A Story for Girls. By L. T. 
 
 Meade. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of Mrs. Meade's charming books for girls, narrated In that simple 
 and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first among 
 writers for young people." — The Spectator. 
 
 For sale by all Iwoksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-68 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 3 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Sue and I. By Mrs. O'Keilly. 12mo, cloth, illus- 
 trated, price 75 cents. 
 "A thoroughly delightful book, full of sound wisdom as well as fun."—' 
 
 Athenaeum. 
 
 The Princess and the Goblin. A Fairy Story. By 
 
 George Macdonald. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "If a child ouce begins this book, it will get so deeply interested in 
 it that when bedtime comes it will altogether forget the moral, and will 
 wearj^ its parents with importunities for just a few minutes more to see 
 how everything ends." — Saturday Review. 
 
 Pythia's Pupils: A Story of a School. By Eva 
 
 Hartner. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "This story of the doings of several bright school girls is sure to interest 
 girl readers. Among many good stories for girls this is undoubtedly one 
 of the very best." — Teachers' Aid. 
 
 A Story of a Short Life. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The boolc is one we can heartily recommend, for it is not only bright 
 and interesting, but also pure and healthy in tone and teaching." — 
 Couiier. 
 
 The Sleepy King. A Fairy Tale. By Aubrey Hop- 
 wood and Seymc^ur Hicks. 12nio, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "Wonderful as the adventures of Bluebell are, it must be admitted that 
 
 they are very naturally worked out and very plausibU' presented. 
 
 Altogether this is an excellent story for girls." — Saturday Review. 
 
 Two Little Waifs. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Mrs. Molesworth's delightful story of Two Little Waifs' will charm 
 all the small people who find it in their stockings. It relates the ad- 
 ventures of two lovable English children lost in Paris, and is just wonder- 
 ful enough to pleasantly wring the youthful heart." — New York Tribune. 
 
 Adventures in Toyland. By Edith King Hall. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "The author is such a bright, cheery writer, that her stories are 
 always acceptable to all who are not confirmed cynics, and her record of 
 the adventures is as entertaining and enjoyable as we might expect." — 
 Boston Courier. 
 
 Adventures in Wallypug Land. By Gr. E. Farrow. 
 
 i3mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "These adventures are simply inimitable, and will delight boys and girls 
 of mature age, as well as their juniors. No happier combination of 
 author and artist than this volume presents could be found to furnish 
 healthy amusement to the young folks. The book is an artistic one in 
 every sense." — Toronto Mail. 
 
 Fussbudget's Folks. A Story for Young Girls. By 
 
 Anna F. Burnham. 12nio, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Mrs. Burnham has a rare gift for composing stories for children. With 
 a light, yet forcible touch, she paints sweet and artless, yet natural and 
 strong, characters. ' ' — Congregationalist. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
4 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Mixed Pickles. A Story for Girls. By Mrs. E. M. 
 
 Field. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "It is, In its way, a little classic, of which the real beauty and pathos 
 can hardly bo appreciated by young people. It is not too much to say 
 of the story that It is perfect of its kind." — Good Literature. 
 
 Miss Mouse and Her Boys. A Story for Girls. By 
 
 ^ Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Mrs. Molesvvorth's books are cheery, wholesome, and particularly well 
 adapted to refined life. It is safe to add that she is the best English prose 
 writer for cliildren. A new volume from Mrs. Molesworth is ^ways a 
 treat." — The Beacon. 
 
 Gilly Flower. A Story for Girls. By the author of 
 
 X " Miss Toosey's Mission." 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $100. 
 
 "Jill is a little guardian angel to three lively brothers who tease and 
 play with her. . . . Her unconscious goodness brings right thoughts 
 and resolves to several persons who come into contact with her. There is 
 n(» gf)odiness in this tale, but its Influence is of the best kind." — Literary 
 World. 
 
 The Chaplet of Pearls; or, The White and Black Ribau- 
 
 mont. By Charlotte M. Yonge. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price Sl.OO. 
 "Full of spirit and life, so well sustained throughout that grown-up 
 readers may enjoy it as much as children. It is one of the best books of 
 the season." — Guardian. 
 
 Naughty Miss Bunny: Her Tricks and Troubles. By 
 
 K Clara Mi'lholland. 12iiio, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "The naughty child is positively delightful. Papas should not omit the 
 book from their list of juvenile presents." — Land and Watjr. 
 
 r Megfs Friend. By Alice Cokkran. 12rao, cloth, 
 
 ilhistrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of Miss Corkran's charming books for girls, narrated in that simple 
 and i)irtures(|ne style whioli niiirlci the authoress as one of the first among 
 writers for young people." — The Spectator. 
 
 / Averil. By Rosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
 
 price $1.00. 
 
 "A charming story for young folks. Averil is a delightful creature — 
 piquant, tender, and true — and her varying fortunes are perfectly real- 
 istic."— World. 
 
 Aunt Diana. By Rosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, illus- 
 trated, price $1.00. 
 
 ".\n excellent story, the interest being sustained from first to last. 
 This is, both in its intention and the way the story is told, one of the 
 best books of its kind which has come before us this year." — Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 Little Sunshine's Holiday: A Picture from Life. By 
 
 >< Miss Mulock. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This la a pretty narrative of child life, describing the simple doings 
 and sayings of a very charming and rather precocious child. This is a 
 delightful book for young people." — Gazette. 
 
 For sale by all booksellem, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by tl)9 
 publisher, A. L. BUBT, 68-(8 Puano Street, New York, 
 
A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 5 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Esther's Charge. A Story for Girls. By Ellen Everett 
 
 Green. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 ^ . "... This is a story showing in a charming way how one little 
 • girl's jealousy and bad temper were conquered; one of the best, most 
 suggestive and improving of the Christmas juveniles." — New York Trib- 
 une. 
 
 Fairy Land of Science. By Arabella B. Buckley. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "We can highly recommend it; not only for the valuable information 
 it gives on the s})ecial subjects to which it is dedicated, but also as a 
 book teaching natural sciences hi an interesting way. A fascinating 
 little volume, which will make friends in every household in which there 
 are children." — Daily News. 
 
 Merle's Crusade. By Eosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Among the books for young people we have seen nothing more unique 
 than this book. Like all of this author's stories it will please young read- 
 ers by the very attractive and charming style in which it is written." — 
 Journal. 
 
 Birdie: A Tale of Child Life. By H. L. Childe- 
 
 Pemberton. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "The story is quaint and simple, but there is a freshness about it 
 that makes one hear again the ringing laugh and the cheery shout of chil- 
 dren at play which charmed his earlier years." — ifew York Express. 
 
 The Days of Bruce: A Story from Scottish History. 
 
 By Grace Aguilar. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "There is a delightful freshness, sincerity and vivacity about all of Grace 
 Aguilar's stories which cannot fail to win the interest and admiration of 
 every lover of good reading." — Boston Beacon. 
 
 Three Bright Girls : A Story of Chance and Mischance. 
 
 By Annie E. Armstrong. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "The charm of the story lies in the cheery helpfulness of spirit devel- 
 oped in the girls by their changed circumstances; while the author finds 
 a pleasant ending to all their happy makeshifts. The story is charmingly 
 told, and the book can be warmly recommended as a present for girls." — 
 Standard. 
 
 Giannetta : A Girl's Story of Herself. By Eosa Mul- 
 
 HOLLAND. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Extremely well told and full of interest. Giannetta is a true heroine — 
 warm-hearted, sclf-sacriflcing, and, as all good women nowadays are, 
 largely touched with enthusiasm of humanity. The illustrations are un- 
 usually good. One of the most attractive gift books of the season." — The 
 Academy. 
 
 Margery Merton's Girlhood. By Alice Corkran. 
 
 12rao, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The experiences of an orphan girl who in infancy is left by her 
 father to the care of an elderly aunt residing near Paris. The accounts 
 ^ of the various persons who have an after influence on the story are sin- 
 gularly vivid. There is a subtle attraction about the book which will make 
 it a great favorite with thoughtful girls." — Saturday Review. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BVBT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
6 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR girls! 
 
 Under False Colors: A Story from Two Girls' Lives. 
 
 By Sarah Doudnky. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, pi ice $1.00. 
 ^ "Sarah Doiulney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories — pure 
 
 ' In style, original In conception, and with sliillfully wrought out plots; but 
 V we liave seen nothing equal in dramatic energy to this booli." — Christian 
 Leader. 
 
 Down the Snow Stairs; or, From Good-night to Good- 
 
 morning. By Alice Corkran. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "Among all the Christmas volumes which the year has brought to our 
 table this one stands out facile princeps — a gem of the first water, bearing 
 upon every one of its pages the signet marlj of genius. . . . All is told 
 with such simplicity and perfect naturalness that the dream appears to be 
 a solid reality. It is indeed a Little Pilgrim's Progress." — Christian 
 Leader. 
 
 The Tapestry Room: A Child's Eomance. By Mrs. 
 
 MoLESWORTH. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Mrs. Molesworth is a charming painter of the nature and ways of 
 children; and she has done good service In giving us this charming 
 juvenile which will delight the young people." — Athenseum, London. 
 
 Little Miss Peggy: Only a Nursery Story. By Mrs. 
 
 Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 Mrs. Molesworth's children are finished studies. A joyous earnest spirit 
 pervades her worlt, and her sympathy is unbounded. She loves them 
 with her whole heart, while she lays bare their little minds, and expresses 
 their foibles, their fftults, their virtues, their inward struggles, their 
 conception of duty, and their instinctive knowledge of the right and wrong 
 of things. She knows their characters, she understands their wants, 
 and she desires to help them. 
 
 Polly: A New Fashioned Girl. By L. T. Meade. 
 
 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price Si .00. 
 
 Few authors have achieved a popularity equal to Mrs. Meade as a 
 y writer of stories for young girls. Her characters are living beings of 
 flesh and blood, not lay figures of conventional type. Into the trials 
 and crosses, and everyday experiences, the reader enters at once with zest 
 and hearty sympathy. While Mrs. Mende always writes with a high 
 moral purpose, her lessons of life, purity and nobility of character are 
 rather inculcat(>d by example than intruded as sermons. 
 
 One of a Covey. By the author of "Miss Toosey's 
 
 Mission." 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 / "Full of spirit and life, so well sustained throtighout that grown-ap 
 readers may enjoy it as much as children. This 'Covey* consists of the 
 
 y twelve children of a hard-pressed Dr. Partridge out of which is chosen a 
 little girl to be adopted by a spoiled, fine lady. We have rarely read 
 a story for Imys and girls with greater pleasure. One of the chief char- 
 acters v.-ould not have disgraced Dickens' pen." — Literary World. 
 
 The Little Princess of Tower Hill. By L. T. Meade. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This is one of the prettiest books for children published, as pretty 
 ns a pond-lily, and quite as fragrant. Nothing could be imagined more 
 X attractive to yopng peoy)l(> than such a combination of fresh pages and 
 fair pictures; and while children will rejoice over it — which Is much 
 better than crying for it — It is a book tliht ean l)e read with pleasure 
 even by older boys and girls." — Boston Advertiser. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent post pn id on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A. L. BURT^'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 7 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Kosy. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
 
 price 75 ceuts. 
 
 Mrs. Molesworth, considering the quality and quantity of her labors, 
 is the best story-teller for children England has yet linown. 
 
 "This is a very pretty story. The writer knows children, and their 
 ways well. The illustrations are exceedingly well drawn." — Spectator. 
 
 Esther: A Book for Girls. By Eos a N. Carey. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "She inspires her readers simply by bringing them in contact with the 
 characters, who are in themselves inspiring. Her simple stories are woven 
 in order to give her an opportunity to describe her characters by their own 
 conduct in seasons of trial." — Chicago Times. 
 
 Sweet Content. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "It seems to me not at all easier to draw a lifelike child than to draw 
 a lifelike man or woman: Shakespeare and Webster were the only two 
 men of their age who could do it with perfect delicacy and success. 
 Our own age is more fortunate, on this single score at least, having a 
 larger and far nobler proportion of female writers; among whom, since 
 the death of George Eliot, there is none left whose touch is so exquisite 
 and masterly, whose love is so thoroughly according to knowledge, whose 
 bright and sweet invention is so fruitful, so truthful, or so delightful as 
 Mrs. Molesworth's." — A. C. Swinbourne. 
 
 Honor Bright ; or, The Four-Leaved Shamrock. By the 
 
 author of "• Miss Toosey's Mission." 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1 00. 
 "It requires a special talent to describe the sayings and doinjjs of 
 children, and the author of 'Honor Bright,' 'One of a Covey,' possesses that 
 talent in no small degree. A cheery, sensible, and healthy tale," — Tho 
 Times. 
 
 The Cuckoo Clock. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 ceuts. 
 "A beautiful little story. It will be read with delight by every child 
 into whose hands it is placed. . . . The author deserves all the praise 
 that has been, is, and will be bestowed on 'The Cuckoo Clock.' Children's 
 storI(>s are plentiful, but one like this is not to be met with every day." — 
 Fall Mall Gazette. 
 
 The Adventures of a Brownie. As Told to my Child. 
 
 By Miss MuLOCK. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "The author of this delightful little book leaves it in doubt all through 
 whether there actually is such a creature in existence as a Brownie, but 
 she makes us hope that there might be." — Chicago Standard. 
 
 Only a Girl: A Tale of Brittany. From the French 
 
 by C. A. Jones. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "We can thoroughly recommend this brightly written and homely nar- 
 rative." — Saturday Review. 
 
 Little Rosebud; or, Things Will Take a Turn. By 
 
 Beatrice Harraden. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "A most delightful little book. , . . Miss Harraden is so bright, so 
 healthy, and so natural withal that the book ought, as a matter of duty, 
 to be added to every girl's library in the land." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUST, 62-58 Duane Street, New Tork. 
 
8 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 
 
 Girl Neighbors ; or, The Old Fashion and the New. By 
 
 Sarah Tytlkr. ]2mo, cloth, illustrated, price |1.00. 
 "One of the most effoctive and quietly humorous of Miss Tytler's stories. 
 
 V 'Girl Neighbors' is a pleasant comedy, not so much of errors as of preju- 
 dices pot rid of, very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written. — 
 Spectator. 
 
 The Little Lame Prince and His Traveling Cloak. By 
 
 Miss Mulock. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "No sweeter — that is the proper word — Christmas story for the little 
 folks could easily be found, and it is as delightful for older readers as 
 well. There is a moral to it which the reader can find out for himself, if 
 he chooses to thinli." — Cleveland Herald. 
 
 Little Miss Joy. By Emma Marshall. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 X"A very pleasant and instructive story, told by a very charming writer 
 In such an attractive way as to win favor among its young readers. The 
 illustrations add to the beauty of the book." — TJtica Herald. 
 
 The House that Grew. A Girl's Story. By Mrs. Moles- 
 worth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 *'This is a very pretty story of English life. Mrs. Molesworth is one 
 
 of the most popular and charming of English story-writers for children. 
 
 Her child characters are true to life, always natural and attractive, 
 
 and her stories are wholesome and interesting." — Indianapolis Journal. 
 
 The House of Surprises. By L. T. Meade. 12rao, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 y"A charming tale of charming children, who are naughty enough to be 
 interesting, and natural enough to be lovable; and very prettily their story 
 \-' is told. The quaintest yet most natural stories of child life. Simply 
 delightful."— Vanity Fair. 
 
 The Jolly Ten: and their Year of Stories. By Agnes 
 
 Carr Sage. 12nio, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 )lC The story of a band of cousins who were accustomed to meet at the 
 V^ "Pinery," with "Aunt Roxy." At her fireside they play merry games, 
 
 Y have suppers flavored with innocent fun, and listen to stories — I'nch with 
 Its lesson calculated to make the ten not less jolly, but quickly re- 
 sponsive to tlie calls of duty and to the needs of others. 
 
 Little Miss Dorothy. The Wonderful Adventures of 
 
 Two Little People. By Martha James. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75c. 
 
 "This is a charming little juvenile story from the pen of Mrs. James, 
 
 y detailing the various adventures of a couple of young children. Their 
 
 many adventures are told in a charming manner, and the book will 
 
 please young girls and boys." — Montreal Star. 
 
 Pen's Venture. A Story for Girls. By Elvirton 
 
 Wright. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 y Something Pen saw in the condition of the cash girls In a certain store 
 / gave her a thought; the thought became a plan; the plan became a ven- 
 ture — Pen's venture. It is amusing, touching, and instructive to read alwnt 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 i;ublisher, A. L. BURT, 62-68 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A. L. BUUT's books FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 9 
 
 FAIRY BOOKS. 
 
 The Blue Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. Pro- 
 fusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 
 "The talcs are simply delightful. No amount of description can do 
 
 them justice. The only way is to read the book through from cover to 
 
 cover." — Book Reviev?. 
 
 The Green Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. 
 
 Profusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 
 
 "The most delightful book of fairy tales, taking form and contents to- 
 gether, ever presented to children." — E. S. Hartland, in Folk-Lore. 
 
 The Yellow Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. 
 
 Profusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.00. 
 "As a collection of fairy tales to delight children of all ages, it ranks 
 second to none." — Daily Graphic. 
 
 The Red Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. Pro- 
 fusely illustrated, 12mo, cloth, price $1.C0. 
 
 "A gift-book that will charm any child, and all older folk, who have 
 been fortunate enough to retain their taste for the old nursery stories." — 
 Literary World. 
 
 Celtic Fairy Tales. Edited by Joseph Jacobs. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "A stock of delightful little narratives gathered chiefly from the Celtic- 
 speakiug peasants of Ireland. A perfectly lovely book. And oh! the 
 wfjuderful pictures inside. Get this book if you can; it is capital, all 
 through." — Pall Mall Budget. 
 
 English Fairy Tales. Edited by Joseph Jacobs. 12ino, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The tales are simply delightful. No amount of description can do 
 them justice. The only way is to read the book through from cover to 
 cover. The book is intended to correspond to 'Grimm's Fairy Tales,' 
 and it must be allowed that Its pages fairly rival in interest those of 
 that well-known repository of folk-lore." — Morning Herald. 
 
 Indian Fairy Tales. Edited by Joseph Jacobs. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Mr. Jacobs brings home to us In a clear and intelligible manner the 
 enormous influence which 'Indian Fairy Tales' have had upon European 
 literature of the kind. The present combination will be welcomed not 
 alone by the little ones for whom It Is specially combined, but also by 
 children of larger growth and added years." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 Household Fairy Tales. By the Brothers Grimm. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "As a collection of fairy tales to delight children of all ages this 
 work ranks second to none." — Daily Graphic. 
 
 Fairy Tales and Stories. By Hans Christian Ander- 
 sen. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "If I were asked to select a child's library I should name these three 
 
 volumes, 'English,' 'Celtic,' and 'Indian Fairy Tales,' with Grimm and 
 
 Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales." — Independent. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duana Street, New York. 
 
10 A. L. r.URT^S BOOKS FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 FAIRY BOOKS. 
 
 Popular Fairy Tales. By the Beothees Geimm. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "From first to last, almost without exception, these stories are delight- 
 ful. ' ' — AthencDum. 
 
 Icelandic Fairy Tales. By A. W. Hall. 12ino, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price i)1.00. 
 
 *'Th»! most delightful book of fairy tales, taking form and contents to- 
 gether, over presented i> children. The whole collection Is dramatic and 
 humorous. A more desirable child's book has not been seen for many a 
 day." — Daily News. 
 
 Fairy Tales From the Far North. (Norwegian.) By 
 
 p. C. AsDJOKNSKN. r^uio, cloth, illustrated, price $1.()0. 
 "If we were asked what present would make a child happiest at Christ- 
 mastide we thiuk we could with a clear conscience j)oint to Mr. Jacobs' 
 book. It is a dainty and an interesting volume." — Notes and Queries. 
 
 Cossack Fairy Tales. By E. Nisbet Bain. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "A really valuable and curious selection which will be welcomed by 
 readers of all apes. . . . The illustrations by Mr. Batten are often 
 clever and irresistibly humorous. A delight alike to the young people 
 and their elders." — Globe. 
 
 The Golden Fairy Book. By Vaeious Authoes. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The most delightful book of its kind that has come in our way for 
 many a day. It is brimful of pretty stories. Retold in a truly delghtful 
 manner." — Graphic. 
 
 The Silver Fairy Book. By Vaeious Authoes. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The bonk Is intended to correspond to 'Grimm's Fairy Tales,* and It 
 must be allowed that its pages fairly rival in interest thost; of the well- 
 known repository of folk-lore. It is a most delightful volume of fairy 
 tales." — Courier. 
 
 The Brownies, and Other Stories. By Juliana Hoeatia 
 
 EwiNG. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Like all the books she has written this one is very charming, and 
 is worth more in the hands of a child than a score of other stories of a 
 more .sensational character."— Christian at Work. 
 
 The Hunting of the Snark. An Agony in Eight Fits. 
 
 By Lewi.s Carroll, author of "AUce in Wonderland." 12mo, cloth, illus- 
 trated, price 75 cents. 
 "This glorious piece of nonsense. . . . Everybody ought to read It 
 
 — nearly everybody will — and all who deserve the treat will scream with 
 
 laughter." — Graphic. 
 
 Lob Lie-By-the-fire, and Other Tales. By Juliana 
 
 Horatio Ewing. 12mo, cloth, illn.strated. price 75 cents. 
 
 "Mrs. Ewlng has written as good a story as her 'Brownies,' and that 
 fa saying a great deal. 'Lob Ijle-bv-the-flre' has humor and pathos, and 
 teaches what is right without making children think they are reading a 
 sermon." — Saturday Review. ^ 
 
 For sale by all bookstdlers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by tlio 
 publisher, A. L. BURT. 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A, L. Burt*s Catalogue of Books for 
 Young People by Popular Writers, 52- 
 58 Duane Street, New York ^€ ^ >< 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Joe's Luck: A Boy's Adventures in California. By 
 
 Horatio Alger, Jr. 12uio, cloth, illustrated, price ^1.00. 
 
 The story is chock fall of stirrins; incidents, while the amusing situ- 
 ations are furnished by Joshua Bicliford, from Pumpkin Hollow, and the 
 fellow who modestly styles himself the •'Rip-tail Roarer, from Pike Co., 
 Missouri." Mr. Aljror never writes a poor book, and '"Joe's Luck" is cer- 
 tainly one of his best. 
 
 Tom the Bootblack; or. The Eoad to Success. By 
 
 Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 A bright, enterprising lad was Tom the Bootblack. He was not at all 
 ashamed of his humble calliufr, though always on the lookout to better 
 himself. The lad started for Cincinnati to look up his heritage. Mr. 
 Grey, th-; uuclc, did not liesitate to employ a ruffian to kill the lad. The 
 plan failed, and Gilbert Grey, once Tom the bootblack, came into a com- 
 fortable fortune. This is one of Mr. Alger's best stories. 
 
 Dan the Newsboy. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price ^l.OO. 
 
 Dan Mordaunt and his mother live in a poor tenement, and the lad is 
 pluckily trying to make ends meet by selling papers in the streets of New 
 York. A little heiress of six years is confided to the care of the Mor- 
 daunts. The child is kidnapped and Dan tracks the child to the house 
 where she is hidden, and rescues her. The wealthy aunt of the little 
 heiress is so delighted v/ith Dan's courage and many good qualities 
 that she adopts him as her heir. 
 
 Tony the Hero: A Brave Boy's Adventure with a 
 
 Tramp. By Horatio Alger, Jk. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 Tony, a sturdy bright-eyed boy of fourteen, is under the control of 
 Rudolph Rugg, a thorough rascal. After much abuse Touy runs away 
 and gets a job as stable boy in a country hotel. Tony is heir to a 
 large estate. Rudolph for a consideration hunts up Tony and throws 
 him down a deep well. Of course Tony escapes from the fate provided 
 for him, and by a brave act, a rich friend secures his rights and Touy 
 Is prosperous. A very entertaining book. 
 
 The Errand Boy; or, How Phil Brent Won Success. 
 
 By Horatio Ai geu, Jr. 12iiio, cloth illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 Tlie career of "The Errand Boy" embraces the city adventures of a 
 emar^ country lad. Philip was brought up by a kind-hearted innkeeper 
 named Brent. The death of Mrs. Brent paved the way for the hero's 
 subso(]uent troubles. A retired merchant in New York secures him the 
 situation of errand boy, and thereafter stands as his friend. 
 
 Tom Temple's Career. By Horatio Alger^ Jr. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price Sl-OO. 
 
 Tom Temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. He leaves Plympton village 
 to seek work in New York, whence he undertakes an important mission 
 to California. Some of his adventures in the far west are so startling that 
 the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall have beeu 
 reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger's most fascinating style. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUKT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
2 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 ^ Frank Fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living for 
 
 X hhrisolf and his foster-sister Grace. Going to New York he ol>tain8 a 
 
 situation as cash boy in a dry goods store. He renders a service to a 
 
 wealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy to the lad, and thereafter 
 
 helps the lad to gain success and fortune. 
 
 Tom Thatcher's Fortune. By Horatio Alger^ Jr. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price Sl-OO. 
 
 Tom Thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. He sapports his 
 mother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger in John 
 .Simpson's factory. Tom is discharged from the factory and starts over- 
 land for California. He meets with many adventures. The story is told 
 in a way which has made Mr. Alger's name a household word in so many 
 homes. 
 
 The Train Boy. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 Paul Palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported hi8 mother 
 and sister by selling books and papers on the Chicago and Milwaukee 
 Railroad. He detects a young man in the act of picking the pocket of a 
 V young lady. In a railway accident many passengers are killed, but Paul 
 is fortunate enough to assist a Chicago merchant, who out of gratitude 
 takes him Into his employ. Paul succeeds with tact and judgment and 
 Is well started on the road to business prominence. 
 
 Mark Mason's Victory. The Trials and Triumphs of 
 
 a Telegraph Boy. By Horatio Alqeb, Jr. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 
 
 $1.00. 
 
 Mark Mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who pluckily 
 won his way to success by his honest manly efforts under many diffi- 
 culties. This story will please the very large class of boys who regard 
 Mr. Alger as a favorite author. 
 
 A. Debt of Honor. The Story of Gerald Lane's Success 
 
 in the Far West. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 
 
 $1.00. 
 
 The story of Gerald Lane and the account of the many trials and dis- 
 appointments which he passed through befoi he attained success, will 
 Interest all boys who have read the previous stories of this delightful 
 author. 
 
 Ben Bruce. Scenes in the Life of a Bowery Newsboy. 
 
 By Horatio Algkr, Jr. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 Ben Bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. The story of his efforts, 
 "K and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his final success, are 
 most interesting to all readers. The tale is written in Mr. Alger's 
 most fascinating style. 
 
 The Castaways; or, On the Florida Eeefs. By James 
 
 Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 This tale smacks of the salt sea. From the moment that the Sea 
 Queen leaves lower New York bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off 
 the coast of Florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind 
 through her rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to 
 the leeward. The adventures of Ben Clark, the hero of the storv and 
 Jake the cook, cannot fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young 
 people Mr. Oti s Is a prime favorite. ^^^^^ 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUBT, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A. L. BUET'S books FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 3 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Wrecked on Spider Island; or. How Ned Rogers Found 
 
 the Treasuie. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 Ned Rogers, a "down-east" plucky lad ships as cabin boy to earn 
 a livelihood. Ned is marooned on Spider Island, and while there dis- 
 covers a wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a considerable amount 
 of treasure. The capture of the treasure and the incidents of the 
 voyage serve to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most 
 captious boy could desire. 
 
 The Search for the Silver City : A Tale of Adventure in 
 
 Yucatan. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price %1.(X). 
 
 Two lads, Teddy Wright and Neal Emery, embark on the steam 
 yacht Day Dream for a cruise to the tiopics. The yacht is destroyed 
 by fire, and then the boat is cast upon the coast of Yucatan. They 
 bear of the wonderful Silver City, of the Chan Santa Cruz Indians, 
 and with the help of a faithful Indian ally carry off a number of the 
 golden images from the temples. Pursued with relentless vigor at last 
 their escape is effected in an astouishing manner. The story is so 
 full of exciting incidents that the reader is quite carried away with 
 the novelty and realism of the narrative. 
 
 A Runaway Brig; or, An Accidental Cruise. By 
 
 James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 This is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide shimmer- 
 ing sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine himself afloat with 
 Harry Vandyne, Walter Morse, Jim Libby and that old shell-back, Bob 
 Brace, on the brig Bonita. The boys discover a mysterious document 
 which enables them to find a buried treasure. They are stranded on 
 an island and at last are rescued with the treasure. The boys are sure 
 to be fascinated with this entertaining story. 
 
 The Treasure Finders: A Boy's Adventures in 
 
 Nicaragua. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 Roy and Dean Coloney, with their guide Tongla, leave their father's 
 Indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of an ancient city. The 
 boys eagerly explore the temples of an extinct race and discover three 
 golden images cunningly hidden away. They escape with the greatest 
 difliculty. Eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes. We 
 doubt if there ever was written a more entertainrng story than "The 
 Treasure Finders." 
 
 Jack, the Hunchback. A Story of the Coast of Maine. 
 
 By James Otis. Price $1.00. 
 
 ^ This is the story of a little hunchback who lived on Cape Elizabeth, 
 
 y^ on the coast of Maine. His trials and successes are most Interesting. 
 
 From first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us 
 
 iilong as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses 
 
 its force. 
 
 With Washington at Monmouth: A Story of Three 
 
 Philadelphia Boys. By James Otis. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine 
 
 edges, illustrated, price $1.50. 
 
 Three Philadelphia lads assist the American spies and make regular 
 and frequent visits to Valley Forge in the Winter while the British 
 occupied the city. The story abounds with pictures of Colonial life 
 skillfully drawn, and the glimpses of Washington's soldiers which are 
 given shown that the work has not been hastily done, or without con- 
 siderable study. The story is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are 
 all of Mr. Otis' works. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BXJET, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
4 A. L. BURT^S DOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYsi 
 
 With Lafayette at Yorktown: A Story of How Two 
 
 Boys Joined the Continental Army. By James Otis, 12mo, ornamental 
 
 cloUi, olivine edj^es, illustrated, price $1.50. 
 
 Two lads from Portm»uth, N. H., attempt to enlist In the Colonial 
 Army, and are givf-n employment as spies. There is no lack of exciting 
 incidents which the youthful reader craves, but It is healthful excite- 
 ment brimming with facts which every boy should be familiar with, 
 and while the reader is following the advt'iitures of Ben Jaffrays and 
 Ned Allen he Is ^acquiring a fund of historical lore which will remain 
 in hi.s memory h)iig after that which he has memorized from text- 
 books has been forgotten. 
 
 At the Siege of Havana. Being the Experiences of 
 
 Three Boys Serving under Isiael Putnam in 1762. By James Otis. 12mo, 
 
 ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illu.strated, price $1.50. 
 "At the Siege of Havana" deals with that portion of the island's 
 history when the English king captured the capital, thanks to the 
 assistance given by the troops from New England, led In part by Col. 
 Israel Putnam. 
 
 The principal characters are Darius Lunt, the lad who, represented as 
 telling the story, and his comrades, Robert Clement and Nicholas 
 Valltt. Colonel Putnam also figures to considerable extent, necessarily, 
 In th(> tale, and the whole forms one of the most readable stories founded on 
 historical facts. 
 
 The Defense of Fort Henry. A Story of Wheeling 
 
 Creek in 1777. By James Otis. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, 
 
 illustrated, price $1.50. 
 
 Nowhere In the historj of our country can be found more heroic or 
 thrilling Incidents than in the story of those brave men and women 
 who founded the settlement of Wheeling in the Colony of Virginia. The 
 recital of what Elizabeth Zane did is in itself as heroic a story as can 
 be imagined. The wondrous bravery displayed by Major McCuUoth 
 and his gallant comrades, the sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice 
 of blood and life, .stir the blood of old as well as young readers. 
 
 The Capture of the Laughing Mary. A Story of Three 
 
 New York Boys in 1776. By James Otis. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine 
 
 edges, price $1.50. 
 
 "During the British occupancy of New York, at the outbreak of the 
 Revolution, a Yankee lad hears of the plot to take General Washington's 
 person, and calls in two companions to assist the patriot cause. They 
 do some astonishing things, and. Incidentally, lay the way for an 
 American navy later, by the exploit which gives Its name to the 
 work. Mr. Otis' books are too well known to reQuIre any particular 
 commendation to the young." — Evening Post. 
 
 With Warren at Bunker Hill. A Story of the Siege of 
 
 Boston. By James Otis. 12mo, ornametnal cloth, olivine edges, illus- 
 trated, price 81.50. 
 
 "This Is a tale of the slejre of Boston, which opens on the day after 
 the doings at Lexington and Concord, with a description of home life 
 In Boston, Introduces the reader to the British camp at Charlestown, 
 shows (ten. Warren at home, describes what a boy thought of the 
 battle of BuBker Hill, and ch)3e8 with the raising of the siege. The 
 three heroes, (George Wentworth, Ben Scarlett and an old ropemaker. 
 Incur the enmity of a young T(»ry, who causes them many adventures 
 the boys will like to read." — Detroit Free Press. 
 
 For sale l>y all bookselh rs. or <5eut postpaid on receipt of price by tho 
 publisher, A. L. BUST, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A. L. Burt's books fok young people. 5 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 With the Swamp Fox. The Story of General Marion's 
 
 Spies. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price i$1.00. 
 
 This story deals with General Francis Marion's heroic struggle in the 
 Carolinas. General Marion's arrival to take command of these brave 
 men and rough riders is pictured as a boy might have seen it, and 
 although the story is devoted to what the lads did, the Swamp Fox 
 is ever present in the mind of the reader. 
 
 On the Kentucky Frontier. A Story of the Fighting 
 
 Pioneers of the West. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
 
 In the history of our country there is no more thrilling story than 
 that of the wortc done on the Mississippi river by a handful of frontiers- 
 men. Mr. Otis taiies the reader on that famous expedition from the 
 arrival of Major Clarke's force at Corn Island, until Kasliaskia was 
 captured. He relates that part of Simon Kenton's life history which 
 is not usually touched upon either by the historian or the story tclUT. 
 This is one of the most entertaining books for young people which has 
 been published. 
 
 Sarah Dillard's Ride. A Story of South Carolina in 
 
 in 1780. By James Otis. i2mo, cloth, illustrated, price Sl.OO. 
 
 "This book deals with the C .rolinas in 1780, giving a wealth of detail of 
 the Mountain Men who struggled so valiantly against the king's troops. 
 Major Ferguson is the prominent British officer of the story, which is 
 told as though coming from a youth who experienced these adventures. 
 In this way the famous ride of Sarah Dillard is brought out as an 
 Incident of the plot." — Boston Journal, 
 
 A Tory Plot. A Story of the Attempt to Kill General 
 
 Wasliint<ton. By James Otis. ]2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 " 'A Tory Plot' is the story of two lads who overhear something 
 of the plot originated during the Revolution by Gov. Tryon to capture 
 or murder Washington. They communicate their knowledge to Gen. 
 Putnam and are commissioned by him to play the role of detectives 
 in the matter. They do so, and meet with many adventures and hair- 
 breadth escapes. The boys are, of course, mythical, but they serve to en- 
 able the author to put into very attractive shape much valuable knowledge 
 concerning one phase of the Revolution." — Pittsburgh Times. 
 
 A Traitor's Escape. A Story of the Attempt to Seize 
 
 Benedict Arnold By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "This is a tale with stirring scenes depicted in each chapter, bringing 
 clearly before the mind the glorious deeds of the early settlers in this 
 country. In an historical work dealing with this country's past, no 
 plot can hold the attention closer than this one, which describes tlie 
 attempt and partial success of Benedict Arnold's escape to New York, 
 where he remained as the guest of Sir Henry Clinton. All those who 
 actually figured in the arrest of the traitor, as well as Gen. Washing- 
 ton, are included as characters." — Albany Union. 
 
 A Cruise with Paul Jones. A Story of Naval Warfare 
 
 in 1776. By James Otis. ISnio. cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "This story takes up that portion of Paul Jones' adventurous life 
 when he was hovering off the British coast, watching for an oppor- 
 tunity to strike the enemy a blow. It deals more particularly with 
 his descent upon Whitehaven, the seizure of Lady Selkirk's plate, and 
 the famous battle with the Drake. The boy who figures in the tale 
 Is one who was taken from a derelict by Paul Jones shortly after this 
 particular cruise was begun." — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
 l'''>r sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher. A. L. BUST, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
(> A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Corporal Lige's Recruit. A Story of Crown Point and 
 
 Ticonderoga. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price ^1,00. 
 
 "In 'Corporal Lige's Recruit,' Mr. Otis tells the amusinsr story of an 
 old soldier, proud of his record, who had served the king In '58, and who 
 talces the lad, Isaac Bice, as his 'personal recruit.' The lad acquits 
 himself superbly. Col. Ethan Allen 'in the name of God and the con- 
 tinental congress,' infuses much martial spirit into the narrative, which 
 will arouse the keenest interest as it proceeds. Crown Point. Ticon- 
 deroga, Benedict Arnold and numerous other famous historical name* 
 appear in this dramatic tale." — Boston Globe. 
 
 Morgan, the Jersey Spy. A Storj^ of the Siege of York- 
 town in 1781. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "The two lads who are utilized by the author to emphasize the details 
 of the work done during that memorable time were real boys who lived 
 on the banks of the York river, and who aided the Jersey spy in his 
 dangerous occupation. In the guise of fishermen the lads visit York- 
 town, are suspected of being spies, and put under arrest. Morgan risks 
 his life to save them. The final escape, the thrilling encounter with a 
 squad of red coats, when they are exposed equally to the bullets of 
 friends and foes, told in a masterly fashion, makes of this volume one 
 of the most entertaining books of the year." — Inter-Ocean. 
 
 The Young Scout: The Story of a West Point Lieu- 
 
 tenant. By Edward S. Ellis. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price Si. 00. 
 
 The crafty Apache chief Geronimo but a few years ago was the 
 most terrible scourge of the southwest border. The author has woven, 
 in a tale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of Geronimo's last raid. 
 The hero is Lieutenant James Decker, a recent graduate of West Point. 
 Ambitious to distinguish himself the young man takes many a desperate 
 chance against the enemy and on more than one occasion narrowly 
 escapes with his life. In our opinion Mr. Ellis is the best writer of 
 Indian stories now before the public. 
 
 Adrift in the Wilds: The Adventures of Two Ship- 
 wrecked Boy?. By Edward S. Ellis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence are en route for San Fran- 
 cisco. Off the coast of California the steamer takes fire. The two boyf 
 reach the shore with several of the passengers. Young Brandon \h>- 
 comes separated from his party and is captured by hostile Indians, 
 but is afterwards rescued. This is a very entertaining narrative of 
 Southern California. 
 
 A. Young Hero; or, Fighting to Win. By Edward S. 
 
 Elijs. ISmo, cloth, illustrated, price §1.00. 
 
 This story tells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen from 
 the Misses Perkiupine, two very old and simple minded ladles. Fred 
 Sheldon, the hero of this story, undertakes to discover the thieves and 
 have them arrested. After much time spent In detective work, he 
 succeeds in discovering the silver plate and winning the reward. The 
 story is told In Mr. Ellis' most fascinating style. Every boy will be 
 glad to read this delightful book. 
 
 Lost in the Rockies. A Story of Adventure in the 
 
 Rocky Mountains. By Edward S. Ellis. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price fl. 
 
 Incident succeeds incident, and adventure Is piled opon adventnre, 
 and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced 
 breathless enjoyment In this romantic story describing many adventures in 
 the Rockies and among the Indians. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUBT, 62-68 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 7 
 
 BOOKS FOR boys] 
 
 A Jaunt Through Java: The Story of a Journey to 
 
 the Sacred Mountain. By Edward S. Ellis. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
 
 price $1.00. 
 
 The interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures of 
 two cousins, Hermon and Eustace Hadley, on their trip acrosss the island 
 of Java, from Samarang to the Sacred Mountain. In a land where the 
 Royal Bengal tiger, the rhinoceros, and other fierce beasts are to be 
 met with, it is but natural that the heroes of this book should have a 
 lively experience. There is not a dull page in the book. 
 
 The Boy Patriot. A Story of Jack, the Young Friend 
 
 of Washington. By Edward S. Ellis. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, illus- 
 trated, price $1.50. 
 
 "There are adventures of all kinds for the hero and his friends, whose 
 pluck and ingenuity in extricating themselves from awkward fixes are 
 always equal to the occasion. It is an excellent story full of honest, 
 manly, patriotic efforts on the part of the hero. A very vivid description 
 of the battle of Trenton is also found in this story." — Journal of 
 Education. 
 
 A Yankee Lad's Pluck. How Bert Larkin Saved his 
 
 Father's Ranch in Porto Rico. By Wm. P. Chipman. 12mo, cloth, illus- 
 y, trated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Bert Larkin, the hero of the story, early excites our admiration, 
 and is altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst 
 the story of his numerous adventures is very graphically told. This 
 will, we think, prove one of the most popular boys' books this season." — 
 Gazette. 
 
 A Brave Defense. A Story of the Massacre at Fort 
 
 Grlswold in 1781. By William P. Chipman. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 
 
 $1.00. 
 
 Perhaps no more gallant fight against fearful odds took place during 
 the Revolutionary War than that at Fort Griswold, Groton Heights, Conn., 
 in 1781. The boys are real boys who were actually on the muster rolls, 
 either at Port Trumbull on the New London side, or of Fort Griswold on 
 the Groton side of the Thames. The youthful reader who follows Halsey 
 Sanford and Levi Dart and Tom Malleson, and their equally brave com- 
 rades, through their thrilling adventures will be learning something more 
 than historical facts; they will be imbibing lessons of fidelity, of bravery, 
 of heroism, and of manliness, which must prove serviceable in the arena 
 of life. 
 
 The Young Minuteman. A Story of the Capture of 
 
 General Prescott in 1777. By William P. Chipman. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
 
 price $1.00. 
 
 This story is based upon actual events which occurred during the British 
 occupation of the waters of Narragansett Bay. Darius Wale and William 
 Northrop belong tO| "the coast patrol." The story is a strong one, dealing 
 only with actual events. There is, however, no lack of thrilling adventure, 
 and every lad who is fortunate enough to obtain the book will find not 
 only that his historical knowledge is increased, but that his own patriotism 
 and love of country are deepened. 
 
 For the Temple: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. 
 
 By G. A. ITenty. With illustrations by S. J. Solomon. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
 edges, price Sl.OO. 
 
 "Mr. Henty's graphic prose picture of the hopeless Jewish resistance 
 to Roman sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of 
 the world. The book is one of Mr. Henty's cleverest efforts." — Graphic. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
8 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOB YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Roy Gilbert's Search : A Tale of the Great Lakes. By 
 
 Wm. p. Chipman. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1-00. 
 
 A deep mystery hangs over the parentage of Roy Gilbert. He arranges 
 with two schoolmates to make a tour of the Great Lakes on a steam 
 launch. The three boys visit many points of interest on the lakes. 
 Afterwards the lads rescue an elderly gentleman and a lady from a sink- 
 ing yacht. Later on the boys narrowlj' escape with their lives. The 
 hero Is a manly, self-reliant boy, whose adventures will be followed 
 with interest. 
 
 The Slate Picker: The Story of a Boy's Life in the 
 
 Coal Mines. By Harry Prentick. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price SlW. 
 
 This is a story of a boy's life in the coal mines of Pennsylvania. 
 Ben Burton, the hero, had a hard road to travel, but by grit and energy 
 he advanced step by step until he found himself called upon to fill the 
 position of chief engineer of the Kohinoor Coal Company. This is a 
 book of extreme interest to every boy reader. 
 
 The Boy Cruisers; or, Paddling in Florida. By St. 
 
 George Rathborne. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00 
 Andrew George and Rowland Carter start on a canoe trip along the 
 Gulf coast, from Key West to Tampa, Florida. Their first adventure 
 is with a pair of rascals who steal their boats. Next they run into 
 a gale in the Gulf. After that they have a lively time with alli- 
 gators and Andrew gets into trouble with a band of Seminole Indians. 
 Mr. Rathborne knows just how to interest the boys, and lads who are 
 In search of a rare treat will do well to read this entertaining story. 
 
 Captured by Zulus: A Story of Trapping in Africa. 
 
 By Harry Prentice. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 This story details the adventures of two lads, Dick Elsworth and Bob 
 Harv<-y, in the wilds of South Africa. By stratagem the Zulus capture. 
 Dick and Bob and take them to their principal kraal or village. The 
 lads escape death by dig ing their way out of the prison hut by night. 
 They are pursued, but the Zulus finally give up pursuit. Mr. Prentice 
 tells exactly how wild-beast collectors secure specimens on their native 
 stamping grounds, and these descriptions make very entertaining re"dlng. 
 
 Tom the Ready; or, Up from the Lowest. By Ran- 
 dolph Hill. ISino, cloth, illustrated, price Si. 00. 
 
 This is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless, ambi- 
 tious boy from the lowest round of fortune's ladder to wealth and the 
 governorship of his native State. Tom Seacomb begins life with a pur- 
 pose, and eventually overcomes those who oppose him. How he manages 
 to win the battle is told by Mr. Hill In a raasterfr' way that thrills 
 the reader and holds his attention and sympathy to the end. 
 
 Captain Kidd's Gold: The True Story of an Adven- 
 turous Sailor Boy. By James Franklin Fitts. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 
 price $1.00. 
 
 There Is something fascinating to the average youth in the very Idea 
 of burled treasure. A vision arises before his eyes of swarthy Portu- 
 guese and Spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming eyes. There 
 were many famous sea rovers, but none more celebrated than Capt. Kldd. 
 Paul Jones Garry inherits a document which locates a considerable 
 treasure burled by two of Kidd's crew. The hero of this book Is an 
 ambitious, persevering lad, of salt-water New England ancestry, and his 
 efforts to reach the Island and secure the money form one of the most 
 absorbing tales for our youth that has come from the press. ___ 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUBT, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 9 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS, 
 
 The Boy Explorers: The Adventures of Two Boys in 
 
 Alaska. By Habuy Puentice. l2uio, cloth, illust'-ated, price $1.00. 
 
 Two bojs, Raymond and Spencor Manning, travrl to Alaska to join 
 their father in search of thoir uncle. On their arrival at Sitlca tlie boja 
 with an Indian guide set off across the mountains. The trip is fraught 
 with perils that test the lads' courar ; to the utmost. All through their 
 exciting adventures the lads demonstrate what can be accomplished by 
 pluck and resolution, and their experience makes one of the most in- 
 teresting tales ever written. 
 
 The Island Treasure; or, Harry Barrel's Fortune. 
 
 By Frank H. Converse. V2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00 
 Harry Darrel, having received a nautical training on a school-ship, is 
 bent on going to sea. A runaway horse changes his prospects. Harry 
 saves Dr. Gregg from drowning and afterward becomes sailing-master 
 of a sloop yacht. Mr. Converse's stories possess a charm of their own 
 which is appreciated by lads who delight in good healthy tales that 
 smack of salt water. 
 
 Guy Harris: The Eunaway. By Harry Castlemon. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price ^1.00. 
 
 Guy Harris lived in a small city on the shore of one of the Great 
 Lakes. He is persuaded to go to sea, and gets a glimpse of the rough 
 side of life in a sailor's boarding house. He sliips on a vessel and for 
 five months leads a hard life. The book will interest boys generally 
 on account of its graphic style. This is one of Castlemon's most attract- 
 ive stories. 
 
 Julian Mortimer: A Brave Boy's Struggle for Home 
 
 and Fortune. By Harry Castlemon. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
 
 The scene of the story lies west of the Mississippi River, in the days 
 when emigrants made their perilous way across the great plains to the 
 land of gold. There is an attack upon tiie wagon train by a large party 
 of Indians. Our hero is a 'ad of uncommon nerve and pluck. Befriended 
 by a stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our hero achieves the most 
 happy results. 
 
 By Pike and Dyke: A Tale of the Eise of the Dutch 
 
 Republic. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Maynard Biuiwn. 
 
 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted with the 
 book, while the rest who oidy care for adventure will be students in spite 
 of themselves." — St. James's Gazette. 
 
 St. George for England: A Tale of Cressy and Poi- 
 tiers. By G. A. TIenty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style 
 the author has endeavored to show that determination and enthusiasm 
 can accomplish marvellous results; and that courage is generally accom- 
 panied by magnanimity and gentleness." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Captain Bayley's Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of 
 
 California. By (t. A. Henty. Wi;h illustrations bj' H. M. Paget, l^nio^ 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price SI. 00. 
 
 "Mr. Henty is careful to mingle Instruction with entertainment; and 
 the humorous touches, especially in the sketch of John Holl, the West- 
 minster dustman, Dickens himself could hardly have excelled." — Chris- 
 tian Leader. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by tho 
 publisher, A. L. BTJRT, 52-68 Duane Street, New York. 
 
10 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS^ 
 
 Budd Boyd's Triumph; or. The Boy Finn of Fox Island. 
 
 By William P. Chipman. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 The scene of this story is laid on the upper part of Narragansett Bay, 
 and the IcailiiiK incidents have a strong salt-water flavor. The two 
 boys, Budd Boyd and Judd Floyd, being ambitious and clear sighted, 
 form a partnership to catch and sell fish. Budd's pluck and good sense 
 carry him through many troubles. In I'Dllowing the career of the l»oy 
 firm of Boyd & Floyd, the youthful reader will find a useful lesson — 
 that industry and persr-veranco are bound to lead to ultimate success. 
 
 Lost in the Canyon : Sam Willett's Adventures on the 
 
 Great Colorado. By Alfred R. Calhoun. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price $1, 
 This story hinges on a fortune left to Sam WUlett, the hero, and the 
 fact that it will pass to a disreputable relative if the lad dies before 
 he shall have reached his majority. The story of his father's peril and 
 of Sam's desperate trip down the great canyon on a raft, and how the 
 party linally «'Soape from their perils is described in a graphic style 
 that" stamps Mr. Calhoun as a master of his art. 
 
 Captured by Apes : The Wonderful Adventures of a 
 
 Younj? Animal Trainer. By Harry Prentice. 12mo, cloth, illustrated- 
 
 price $1.00. 
 
 Philip Garland, a young animal collector and trainer, sets sail for 
 Eastern seas in quest of a new stock of living curiosities. The vessel 
 is wrecked off the coast of Borneo, and young (Jarland is cast ashore 
 on a small island, and cautured by the apt^s that overruu the place. 
 Very novel Indeed is the way by which the young man escapes death. 
 Mr. Prentice Is a writer of undoubted skill. 
 
 Under Drake's Flag: A Tale of the Spanish Main. 
 
 By G, A. IIenty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "There is not a dull chapter, nor, Indeed, a dull page In the boob; but 
 the author has so carefully worked up his subject that the exciting 
 deeds of his heroes are never incongruous nor absurd." — Observer. 
 
 By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By 
 
 G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
 
 edges, price SI 00. 
 
 The author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the details 
 of the Ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness. 
 
 "Mr. llenty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys' stories. 'By 
 Sheer Pluck' will be eagerly read." — ^Athenseum. 
 
 With Lee in Virginia: A Story of the American Civil 
 
 War. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price ^\.(K\ 
 
 "One of the best stories for lads which Mr. Henty has yet written. 
 The picture is full of life and color, and the stirring and romantic inci- 
 dents are skillfully blended with the persoual iuterest and charm of the 
 story. ' * — Standard. 
 
 By England's Aid; or, The Freeing of the Netherlands 
 
 (iri8.'>-1604). By G. A. Hknty. With iUustratlons by Alfred Peabse. 12nio. 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price gl.OO. 
 
 "It Is an admirable book for youngsters. It overflows with stirring 
 Incident and «xcltlng ndvcnture. and the color of tlie era and of the 
 scene are finely reproduced. The illustrations add to its attractiveness. — 
 Boston Gazette. ^ _^___________- 
 
 For 6al(! by all booksidlers. or sent postpaid on reecipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-68 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 11 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 By Right of Conquest; or, With Cortez in Mexico. 
 
 By G. A. HE^TY. ^ViLll illustrations by W. S. Stagey. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.50. 
 " The conquest of Mexico by a small band of resolute men under the 
 magniticent leadership of Cortez is always rightfully ranked among the most 
 roniautie and daring exploits in history. 'By Ricrht of Conquest' is the 
 neaiest av>proach to a perfectly successful historical tale that Mr. Henty 
 has yet published."— Academy. 
 
 For Name and Fame; or, Through Afghan Passes. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth- 
 
 olivine edges, price $1 .00. 
 
 "Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excite- 
 ment of a campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of a 
 territory and its inhabitants wh-ch must for a long time possess a supremo 
 interest for Englishmen, as being the key to our Indian Empire."— 
 Glasgow Herald. 
 
 The Bravest of the Brave; or, With Peterborough in 
 
 Spain. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by H. M. Paget. 12mo 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work — to 
 enforce the doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and loving ki idness, 
 as indispensable to the making of a gentleman. Boys will rea. 'The 
 Bravest of the Brave' with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite 
 sure." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 The Cat of Bubastes : A Story of Ancient Egypt. By 
 
 G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat 
 to the perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skillfully 
 constructed and full of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated." 
 — Saturday Review. 
 
 Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Tale of Fontenoy and Cul- 
 
 loden. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Bro-^ni . 12mo, 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price Sl-00. 
 
 "Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of 'Quentin Durward.' The 
 lad's journey across France, and his hairbreadth escapes, mai.ea up as 
 good a narrative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of 
 treatment and variety of incident Mr. Henty has surpassed himself." — 
 Spectator. 
 
 With Clive in India ; or. The Beginnings of an Empire. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "He has taken a period of Indian history of the most vital impor- 
 tance, and he has embroidered on the historical facts 'a story which of 
 itself is deeply interesting. Young people assuredly will be delighted 
 with the volume." — Scotsman. 
 
 In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a West- 
 minster Boy. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by J. Schonbero. 
 12mo, cloth, oliviiie edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat 
 Mr. Henty's record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity 
 and peril they depict. The story is one of Mr. Henty's best." — Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid ou receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
12 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 The Lion of the North: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus 
 
 and the Wars of Reliprion. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by John 
 
 ScHONBERG. 12tno, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "A praiseworthy attempt to interest British youth In the great deeds 
 of the Scotch BriKade in the wars of (iustavus Alolphus. Macliey, Hep- 
 hurn, and Muiiro live again In Mr. Henty's pages, as those deserve to 
 live whose diKeif)lined i)and8 formed really the germ of the modem 
 British army." — AthenaBura. 
 
 The Dragon and the Raven; or, The Days of King 
 
 Alfred. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by C. J. SxANiLAjn). 12mo-, 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 In this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle be- 
 tween Saxon and Dane for supremacy In England, and presents a vivid 
 picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the 
 ravages of the sea-wolves. The story is treated in a manner most at- 
 tractive to the l)oyish reader." — Athenaeum. 
 
 The Young Carthaginian: A Story of the Times of 
 
 Hannibal. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by C. J. Staniland. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Well constructed and vividly told. From first to last nothing stays 
 the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream whose 
 current varies in direction, but never loses its force." — Saturday Review. 
 
 In Freedom's Cause: A Story of Wallace and Bruce. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "It Is written In the author's best style. Full of the wildest and most 
 remarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a l>ov. once 
 he has begun it, will not willingly put one side." — The Schoolmaster, 
 
 With Wolfe in Canada; or, The Winning of a Con- 
 tinent. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, 
 cloth, olivme edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "A model of what a boys' stor.v-book should be. Mr. Henty has a 
 great power of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as 
 no pains are spared l»y him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his 
 books supply useful aids to study as well as amusement." — School Guard- 
 ian. 
 
 True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of 
 
 Independence. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
 
 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $l.oa 
 
 "Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British sollders 
 during the unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The son 
 of an American loyalist, w^ho remains true to our Hag, falls among the 
 hostile red-skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared 
 to us by the exploits of Hawkeye and Chingachgook." — The Times. 
 
 A Final Reckoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Aus- 
 tralia. By G. A. Hknty. With illustrations by W. B. Wollkn. 12mo, 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 "All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging Interest. The 
 
 episodes are in Mr. Henty's very best vein — grnphie. exciting, realistic; 
 
 and, as In all Mr» Henty's books, the tendency is to the formation of au 
 
 honorable, manly, and even heroic character." — Birmingham Post. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent po;^tpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUKT, 68-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOE YOUNG PEOPLE. 13 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 The Lion of St. Mark: A Tale of Venice in the Four- 
 teenth Century. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 "Every boy should read 'The Lion of St. Mark.' Mr. Ilenty has never 
 
 produced a story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious." — 
 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 Facing Death; or. The Hero of the Vanghan Pit. A 
 
 Tale of the Coal Mines. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon 
 
 Browne. 18mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "The tale is well written and well illustrated, and there is much 
 Beality in the characters. If any father, clergyman, or schoolmaster 
 is on the lookout for a good book to give as a present to a boy who is 
 worth his salt, this is the book we would recommend." — Standard. 
 
 Maori and Settler: A Story of the New Zealand War. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Alfred Pearse. 12mo, cloth> 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "In the adventures among the Maoris, there are many breathless 
 moments in which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but they 
 succeed in establishing themselves happily in one of the pleasant New 
 Zealand valleys. It is brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting 
 conversation, and vivid pictures of colonial life." — Schoolmaster. 
 
 One of the 28th: A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. 
 
 Henty. With illustrations by W. H. Overend. 13mo, cloth, olivine 
 
 edges, price $1.00. 
 "Written with Homeric vigor and heroic Inspiration. It Is graphic, 
 picturesque, and dramatically effective . . . shows us Mr. Henty at 
 his best and brightest. The adventures will hold a boy enthralled as he 
 rushes through them with breathless interest 'from cover to cover.' " — 
 Observer. 
 
 Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limer- 
 ick. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, 
 cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00, 
 "The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with 
 
 life as If what is being described were really passing before the eye." — 
 
 Belfast News-Letter. 
 
 Through the Fray: A Story of the Lnddite Eiots. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With illustrations by H. M. Paget. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
 
 edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Mr. Henty inspires a love and admiration for straightforwardness, truth 
 and courage. This is one of the best of the many good books Mr. 
 Henty has produced, and deserves to be classed with his 'Facing Death.' " 
 — Standard. 
 
 The Young Midshipman: A Story of the Bombard- 
 ment of Alexandria. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, 
 price $1.00. 
 
 A coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the Interest of 
 a shipowner, who places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships. 
 In company with two of his fellow-apprentices he is left behind, at 
 Alexandria, in the hands of the revolted Egyptian troops, and is present 
 through the bombardment and the scenes of riot and bloodshed which 
 accompanied It. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
14 A. L. BURT^S ROOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 In Times of Peril. A Tale of India. By G. A. 
 
 Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, oUvine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 The hero of the story early excites our admiration, and is altogether 
 a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the Story of the 
 campaign is very graphically told." — St. James's Gazette. 
 
 The Cornet' of Horse: A Tale of Marlborougli's Wars. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, ohvine edges, price $1. 
 
 "Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and fiction 
 together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help acquiring a 
 Just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle known as the 
 Crimean War." — Athenaeum. 
 
 The Young Franc-Tireurs : Their Adventures in the 
 
 Fianco-Prussian War. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "A capital book for boys. It is bright and readable, and full of good 
 sense and manliness. It teaches pluck and patience In adversity, and 
 shows that right living loads to success." — Observer. 
 
 The Young Colonists: A Story of Life and War in 
 
 South Africa. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine 
 
 edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "No boy needs to have any story of Henty 's recommended to him, and 
 parents who do not know and buy them for their boj'S should be ashamed 
 of themselves. Those to whom he is yet unknown could not make a 
 better beginning than with this book. 
 
 The Young Buglers. A Tale of the Peninsular War. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. ]2mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 
 
 "Mr. Henty is a giant among boys* writers, and his books are suflQ- 
 clently popular to be sure of a welcome anywhere. In stirring Interest, 
 this is (juite up to the level of Mr. Henty's former historical tales." — 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 Sturdy and Strong; or, How George Andrews Made his 
 
 Way. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo. cloth, olivine edges, 
 
 price SI. 00. 
 
 "The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of tr th, clothing of 
 modesty, and innate pluck, carry him, naturally, from pov rty to afflu- 
 ence. George Andrews is an example of character with nothing to cavil 
 at, and stands as a good Instance of chivalry in domestic life." — The 
 Empire. 
 
 Among Malay Pirates. A Story of Adventure and 
 
 Peril. By G. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, 
 
 price $1.00. 
 
 "Incident succeeds incident, and adventure Is piled upon adventure, 
 and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced 
 breathless enjoyment in a romantic story that must have taught him 
 much at Its close." — Army and Navy Gazette. 
 
 Jack Archer. A Tale of the Crimea. By G. A. 
 
 Henty. With illustratif)ns, 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact and fiction 
 together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot help acquiring a 
 Just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggle." — Athenaeum. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 15 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Friends, Though Divided. A Tale of the Civil War. 
 
 By (r. A. Henty. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $t. 
 
 "It has a good plot; It abounds in action; the scenes are equally spirited 
 and realistic, and we can only say we have read it with much pleasure 
 from first to last." — Times. 
 
 Out on the Pampas; or. The Young Settlers. By 
 
 G. A. Henty, With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $\ 00. 
 
 "A really noble story, which adult readers will find to the full as satis- 
 fying as the boys. Lucky boys! to have such a caterer as Mr. G. A 
 Henty." — Black and White. 
 
 The Boy Knight : A Tale of the Crusades. By G. A 
 
 Hknty. With illustrations. ISJmo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00. 
 
 "Of stirring episode there is no lack. The book, with its careful accu' 
 racy and its descriptions of all the chief battles, will give many a school- 
 boy his first roal understanding of a very important period of history." — 
 St. James's Gazette. 
 
 The Wreck of the Golden Fleece. The Story of a North 
 
 Sea Fisher Boy. By Robert Leighton. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
 
 A description of life on the wild North Sea, — the hero being a parson's 
 Bou who is appreciated on board a Lowostoft fishing lugger. The lad has 
 to suffer many buffets from his shipmates, while the storms and dangers 
 which he braved on board the "North Star" are set forth with minute 
 knowledge and intense power. The wreck of the "Golden Fleece" forms 
 the climax to a thrilling series of desperate mischances. 
 
 Olaf the Glorious. A Story of the Viking Age. By 
 
 Robert Leighton. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1 .00. 
 
 This story of Olaf the Glorious, King of Norway, opens with the incident 
 of his being found by his uncle living as a bond-slave in Esthonia; thou 
 come his adventures as a Viking and his raids upon the coasts of Scot- 
 land and England, his victorious battle against the English at Maldon in 
 Essex, his being bought off by Ethelred the Unready, and his conversion 
 to Christianity. He then returns to Pagan Norway, is accepted as king, 
 and converts his people to the Christian faith. 
 
 To Greenland and the Pole. A story of Adventure in 
 
 the Arctic Regions. By Gordon Stables. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
 
 The unfail'ng fascination of Arctic venturing Is presented in this si;ory 
 ^vith new vividness. It deals with skilobning in the north of Scotland, 
 deer-hunting In Norway, sealing in the Arctic Seas, bear-stalking on the 
 ice-floes, the hardships of a journey across Greenland, and a successful 
 voyage to the back of the North Pole. This is. Indeed, a real sea-yarn 
 by a real sailor, and the tone is as bright and wholesome as the adventures 
 are numerous. 
 
 Yussuf the Guide. A Story of Adventure in Asia 
 
 Minor. By George Manville Fenn. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 This story deals with the stirring Incidents In the career of a lad who has 
 been almost given over by the doctors, but who rapidly recovers health 
 and strength in a journey through Asia Minor. The adventures are many, 
 and culminate In the travellers being snowed up for the winter in the 
 mountains, from which they escape while their captors are waiting for 
 the ransom that does not come. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by th0 
 publisher, A. L. BVET, 62-58 Duane Street, New YorH. 
 
y 
 
 16 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Grettir the Outlaw. A Story of Iceland. By S. Bae- 
 
 iNO-GoDLD. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price Si 00. 
 
 "This Is the boys' book of the year. That Is, of course, as much as 
 to say that It will do for men grown as well as juniors. It is told in 
 simple, straightforward English, as all stories should be, and it has a 
 freshness and freedom which make it irresistible." — National Observer. 
 
 Two Thousand Years Ago. The Adventures of a 
 
 Roman Boy. By A. J. Church, litoo, cloth, illustrated, price Jl.OO. 
 
 "Prof. Church has in this story sought to revivify that most interesting 
 period, the last days of the Roman Republic. The book is extremely en- 
 tertaining as well as useful; there is a wonderful freshnese In the Roman 
 scenes and characters." — Times. 
 
 Nat the Naturalist. A Boy's Adventure in the East- 
 ern Seas. By George Manville Fenn. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
 Nat and his uncle Dick go on a voyage to the remoter islands of the 
 Eastern seas, and their adventures are told in a truthful and vastly in- 
 teresting fashion. The descriptions of Mr. Ebony, their black comradCj 
 and of the scenes of savage life, are full of genuine humor. 
 
 The Log of the Flying Fish. A Story of Peril and 
 
 Adventure. By Harry Colo^ingwood. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
 
 "This story Is full of even more vividly recounted adventures than those 
 Whiclf charmed so many boy readers in 'Pirate Island' and 'Congo Rovers.' 
 . . . There is a thrilling adventure on the precipices of Mount Everest, 
 when the ship floats off and providentially returns by force of 'gravita- 
 tion.' " — Academy, 
 
 The Congo Rovers. A Story of the Slave Squadron. 
 
 Bj' Harry Colx.ingwood. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price fl.OO. 
 
 "The scene of this tale is laid on the west coast of Africa, and In the 
 lower reaches of the Congo; the characteristic scenery of the great river 
 being delineated with wonderful accuracy. Mr. Collingwood carries us off 
 for another cruise at sea, in 'The Congo Hovers,' and boys will need no 
 pressing to join the daring crew, which seeks adventures and meets with 
 any number of them." — The Times. 
 
 Boris the Bear Hunter. A Tale of Peter the Great and 
 
 His Times. By Fred Wishaw. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 "This is a capital story. The characters are marked and lifelike, and it 
 is full of incident and adventure." — Standard. 
 
 Michael Strogoff ; or, The Courier of the Czar. By 
 
 JuLKs Vernk. l2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "The story is full of originality and vigor. The characters are lifelike, 
 there is plenty of stirring incident, the Interest is sustained throughout, 
 and every boy will enjoy following the fortunes of the hero." — Journal oC 
 Education. 
 
 Mother Carey's Chicken. Her Voyage to the Unknown 
 
 Isle. By George Manville Fenn. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Undoubtedly one of the best Mr. Fenn has written. The Incidents are 
 of thrilling Interest, while the characters are drawn with a care and com- 
 pleteness rarely found in a boy's book." — Literary World. 
 
 For snle by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by th*" 
 publisher. A. L. BUET, 68-68 Duane Street, Tfew York. 
 
A. t. buet's books foe young people. 17 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Dick Sand; or, A Captain at Fifteen. By Jules 
 
 Verne, 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "Jules Verne himself never constructed a more marvellous tale. It con- 
 tains the strongly marked features that are always conspicuous in his 
 stories — a racy humor, the manly vigor of Ms sentiment, and wholesome 
 moral lessons." — Christian Leader. 
 
 Erling the Bold. A Tale of the Norse Sea Kings. 
 
 By R. M. Ballantyne. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "This volume makes a really fascinating book, worthy of its telling 
 title. There is, we venture to say, not a dull chapter in the book, not 
 a page which will not bear a second reading." — Guardian. 
 
 Masterman Ready; or. The Wreck of the Pacific. By 
 
 Captain Marryat. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "As racy a tale of life at sea and adventure as we have met with for 
 some time. . . . Altogether the sort of book that boys will revel in." 
 — Athenaeum, 
 
 The Green Mountain Boys. A Tale of the Early Set- 
 tlement of Vermont. By D. P. Thompson. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 
 A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style the 
 author has endeavored to show that determination and patriotic enthu- 
 siasm can accomplish marvellous results. This story gives a graphic ac- 
 count of the early settlers of Vermont, and their patriotic efforts in de- 
 fending their homes from the invasions of enemies. 
 
 Every Inch a Sailor. By Gordon Stables. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price $1.00, 
 
 "A story which is quite as good in its way as 'Treasure Island,' and is 
 full of adventure of a stirring yet most natural kind. Although it is 
 primarily a boys' book, it is a real godsend to the elderly reader." — 
 Evening Times. 
 
 The Golden Galleon. A Narrative of Adventure on 
 
 Her Majesty's Ship the Revenge. By Robert Leighton. 12mo, clotii, 
 
 illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "This story should add considerably to Mr. Leighton's high reputation. 
 Excellent in every respect, it contains every variety of incident. The plot 
 is very cleverly devised, and the types of the North Sea sailors are 
 capital." — The Times. 
 
 The Gorilla Hunters. A Tale of the Wilds of Africa. 
 
 By R. M. Ballantyne. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "We conscientiously belive that boys will find it capital reading. It is 
 full of incident and mystery, and the mystery is itept up to the last 
 moment. It is full of stirring adventure, daring and many escapes; and 
 It has a historical interest." — Times. 
 
 Gascoyne the Sandalwood Trader. By R. M. Bal- 
 lantyne. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of the best stories of seafaring life and adventure which have 
 appeared this season. Entertaining in the highest degree from beginning 
 to end, and full of adventure which Is aU the livelier for its close con- 
 nection with history." — Spectator. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-68 Dimne Street. N»w York. 
 
18 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. ' 
 
 Two Years Before the Mast. A Personal Narrative of 
 
 Life at Sea. By R. H. Dana, Jr. 12nio, doth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "One of the very best books for boys that we have seen for a long time: 
 its author stands far in advance of any other writer for boys as a teller 
 of stories of the sea." — The Standard. 
 
 The Young Rajah. A Story of Indian Life. By W. 
 
 H. G. Kingston. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "This story will place the author at once in the front rank. It Is full 
 of life and adventure, and the interest is sustained without a break from 
 first to last." — Standard. 
 
 How Jack Mackenzie Won His Epaulettes. A Story 
 
 of the Crimean War. By Gordon Stables. 12mo, cloth, illustrated 
 
 price $1.00. 
 
 "This must rank among the few undeniably good boys' books. He 
 will be a very dull boy indeed who lays it down without wishing that 
 It had gone on for at least 100 pages more." — Mail. 
 
 The King's Pardon. A Story of Land and Sea. By 
 
 Robert Overton. ]2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "An excellent story, the interest being sustained from first to last. 
 This is, both in its intention and the way the story is told, one of the 
 best books of its kind which has come before us this year. "—Saturday 
 Heview. 
 
 Under the Lone Star. A Story of the Eevolution in 
 
 Nicaragua. By Herbert Haynes. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
 
 "We have not of late come across a historical fiction, whether intended 
 for boys or for men, which deserves to be so heartily and unreservedly 
 praised as regards plot, incidents, and spirit as this book. It is its au- 
 thor's masterpiece as yet." — Spectator. 
 
 Geoff and Jim: A Story of School Life. By Ismay 
 
 Thorn. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This is a prettily told story of the life spent by two motherless balms 
 at a small prei)aratory school. Both Gooff and Jim are very lovable char- 
 acters, only Jim is the more so; and the scrapes he gets into and the 
 trials he endures will, no doubt, interest a large circle of young readers." 
 —Church Times. 
 
 Jack: A Topsy Turvy Story. By C. M. Crawley- 
 
 BoEVBY. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "The Illustrations deserve particular mention, as they add largely to 
 the interest of this amusing vnlunie for children. Jack falls asleep with 
 his mind full of the subject of the fishpond, and Is very much surprised 
 presently to find himself an inhabitant of Waterworld, where ho goes 
 through wonderful and edifying adventures. A handsome and pleasant 
 book."— Literary World. 
 
 Black Beauty. The Autobiography of a Horse, By 
 
 Anna Sewell, i2mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 This Is the life story of a horse; how he was ill treated and well 
 cared for. The experiences of Black Beauty, Ginger, and Merry legs are 
 extremely Interesting. Wherever children are, whether boys or girls, there 
 this Autobiography should be. It inculcates habits of kindness to all mem- 
 bers of the animal creation. The literary merit of the book is excellent. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BVST. 68-68 Duane Street. Kew York. 
 
A. L. BtJRT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 19 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 Mopsa the Fairy. By Jean Ingelow. 12mo, cloth, 
 
 illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Mrs. Ingelow is, to our mind, the most eliarming of all living writers 
 for children, and 'Mopsa' alone ought to give her a Isiind of pre-emptive 
 right to the love and gratitude of our young folks. It requires genius 
 to conceive a purely imaginary work which must of necessity deal with 
 the supernatural, without running into a mere riot of fantastic absurdity; 
 but genius Mrs. Ingelow has, and the story of 'Jack' is as careless and 
 joyous, but as delicate as a picture of childhood." — Eclectic. 
 
 Carrots: Just a Little Boy. By Mrs. Molesworth. 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories it has been our goodl 
 fortune to meet with for some time. Carrots and his sister are delight- 
 ful little beings, whom to read about is at once to become very fond of. 
 A genuine children's book; we've seen 'em seize it, and read it greedily. 
 Children are first-rate critics, and thoroughly appreciate Walter Crane's 
 illustrations. ' ' — Punch. 
 
 Larry's Luck. By the author of "Miss Toosey's Mis- 
 sion." 12nio, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "It is believed that this story, by this favorably known author of 
 'Miss Toosey's Mission,' will be found both highly interesting and instruc- 
 tive to the young. Whether the readers are nine years old, or twice as 
 old, they must enjoy this pretty volume." — The Examiner. 
 
 A Child's Christmas: A Sketch of Boy Life. By Mrs. 
 
 Molesworth. 12uio, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "This is another of those delightful juvenile stories of which this author 
 has written so many. It is a fascinating little book, with a charming 
 plot, a sweet, pure atmosphere, and teaches a wholesome moral in the 
 most winning manner." — Gazette. 
 
 Chunk, Fusky and Snout. A Story of Wild Pigs for 
 
 Little People. By Gerald Young. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "The story is an extremely interesting one, full of Incident, told in a 
 
 quiet, healthful way, and with a great deal of pleasantly Interfused 
 
 Information about wild pigs and their ways. It is sure to interest both 
 
 boys and girls." — Christian Union. 
 
 Paddy's Boy. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, cloth, illus- 
 trated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "A charming story of child life. Little Sir Rowland is one of the 
 most fascinating of the misunderstood child heroes of the day. The quaint 
 doings and imaginings of this gentle, lovable, but highly original child are 
 introduced by Mrs. Meade, with all her accustomed pathos." — Guardian. 
 
 Adventures of Prince Prigio. ' By Andrew LanGo 
 
 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This book has so much charm of style and good writing that it will be 
 eagerly read by many other than the young folk for whom it is intended." 
 —Black and White. 
 
 A Flock of Four. A Story for Boys and Girls. By 
 
 IsMAY Thorn. 12nio, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 "As a gift book for boys it is among the best new books of the kind. 
 The story is interesting and natural, from first to last." — Gazette. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUBT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
20 A. t. BtJRT^S BOOKS FOE YOUNG PEOPLE, 
 
 BOOKS FOR BOYS. 
 
 A Flat Iron for a Farthing. The Story of an Only 
 
 Son, By Juliana Horatia Ewino. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "A very good book it is, full of adventure, graphically told. The style 
 is just what it should be; simple but not bold, full of pleasant humor, 
 and with some pretty touches of feeling. Like all Mrs. Swing's tales. 
 It is sound, sensible, and wholesome." — ^Times. 
 
 The Greek Heroes. Fairy Tales for My Children. By 
 
 Charles Kingslet. ISmo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "We do not think these heroic stories have ever been more attractively 
 told. . . There is a deep under-current of religious feeling traceable 
 throughout Its pages which is sure to influence young readers power 
 fully. One of the children's books that will surely become a classic."— 
 Lond()fe Review. 
 
 Jackanapes. By Juliana Horatia Ewing. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "This is one of Mrs. Ewing's charming little stories for young children. 
 The narrative ... is full of interest for its real grace and delicacy, 
 and the exquisiteness and purity of the English in which it is written." — 
 Boston Advertiser. 
 
 Princess and Curdie. By George Macdonald. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories It has been our good 
 fortune to meet with for some time. The Princess and Curdie are delight- 
 ful little beings, whom to read about Is at once to become very fond of." 
 —Examiner. 
 
 Peter the Pilgrim. The Story of a Boy and His Pet 
 
 Rabbit. By L. T. Meadk. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "Little Peter, with his soft heart, clever head, and brave spirit is no 
 morbid presentment of the angelic child 'too good to live,' and who is 
 certainly a nuisance on earth, but a charming creature, if not a por- 
 trait, whom it is a privilege to meet even in fiction." — The Academy. 
 
 We and the World. A Story for Boys. By Juliana 
 
 Horatia Ewing. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "The author has evidently studied the ways and tastes of children and 
 got at the secret of amusing them; and has succeeded In what is not 
 3o easy a task as it may seem — In producing a really good children's 
 book." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 little Ivan's Hero. A Story of Child Life. By 
 
 Helen Milman. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 
 
 "We should imagine those 'queer folk indeed who could not read this 
 story with eager interest and pleasure, be they boys or girls, young or 
 oki. We highly commend the style in which the book Is written, and the 
 spirit which pervades it."— "World. 
 
 Dick, Marjorie and Fidge. The Wonderful Adventures 
 
 of Three Little People. By G. E. Farrow. 12mo, cloth, illust'd, price 75c. 
 
 "... To the young, for whom It Is especially intended, this is a 
 
 V most Interesting book of adventures, well told, and a pleasant book to 
 
 /^ take up when their wish is to while away n weary half-hour. We have 
 
 seen no prettier gift-book for a long time." — Athenaeum. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpnid on receipt of price by the 
 publisher, A. L. BUBT. 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 
 
 y 
 
VB 37080