Part 1

Produced by Annie R. McGuire

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VOL. III.--NO. 130. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR CENTS.

Tuesday, April 25, 1882. Copyright, 1882, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per Year, in Advance.

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MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER.[1]

[1] Begun in No. 127, HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

BY JAMES OTIS,

AUTHOR OF "TOBY TYLER," "TIM AND TIP," ETC.

CHAPTER IV.

THE PONY.

It certainly seemed, when they arrived at the pasture again, as if everything was conspiring in favor of their circus, for Chandler Merrill had willingly consented to let them use his pony; but he had done so with the kindly prophecy that the little animal would "kick their brains out" if they were not careful with him.

In order to make sure that the consent would not be withdrawn, and at the same time to prove that he told the truth, Bob had brought the pony with him, and, judging from his general appearance as he stood gazing suspiciously at the Douglass horse, he deserved all that was said of him regarding his vicious qualities. He was about half the size of an ordinary horse, and his coat was ragged-looking, owing to its having been rubbed off in spots, thus giving him the air of just such a pony as one would suppose willing to join a party of boys in starting a circus.

"Now there's a hoss that ain't either lame or blind," said Bob, proudly, as he led the pony once around the ring to show his partners how he stepped. If he was intending to say anything more, he concluded to defer it while he made some very rapid movements in order to escape the blow the "hoss" aimed at him with his hind-feet.

"Kicks, don't he?" said Toby, in a tone which plainly told he did not think him very well suited to their purpose.

"Well, he did then;" and Bob fastened the halter more securely by putting one end of the rope through the pony's mouth; "but you see that's because he ain't been used much, an' he's tickled 'cause he's goin' to belong to a circus."

"How long before he'll get over bein' tickled?" asked Joe. "I'm willin' to train Jack Douglass's hoss; but I don't know 'bout this one till he gets sorry enough not to kick."

"Oh, he'll be all right jest as soon as Toby rides him 'round the ring a little while."

"Do you think I'm goin' to ride him?" asked Toby, beginning to believe his partners expected more of him than ever Mr. Castle did.

"Of course; a feller what's been with a circus ought to know how to ride any hoss that ever lived," replied Bob, with considerable emphasis, owing to the fact that the pony kicked and plunged so that his words were jerked out of him, rather than spoken.

"I s'pose some fellers can; but I wasn't with the circus long enough to find out how to ride such hosses as them;" and Toby retired to the shade of the alder bushes, where Abner was sitting, to wait until Bob and the pony had come to terms.

It was quite as much as Bob could do to hold his prize, without trying to make any arrangements for having him ridden, and he called Reddy to help him.

Now, as the ring-master of the contemplated circus, Reddy ought to have known all about horses, and he thought he did until the pony made one plunge, just as he came up smiling with whip in hand. Then he said, as he ran toward Toby,

"I don't believe I want to be ring-master if we're goin' to have that hoss."

"Here, Joe, you help me," cried Bob, in desperation, growing each moment more afraid of the steed. "I want to get him up by the fence, where we can hitch him, till we find out what to do with him."

Joe was perfectly willing to assist the unfortunate clown in his troubles; but as he started toward him, the pony wheeled and flung his heels out with a force that showed he would do some damage if he could, and Joe also joined the party among the bushes.

Bob was thus left alone with his prize, and a most uncomfortable time he appeared to be having of it, standing there in the hot sun, clinging desperately to the halter, and jumping from one side to the other when the pony attempted to bite or strike him with his fore-feet.

"Let him go; he hain't any good," shouted Reddy, from his secure retreat.

"If I let go the halter, he'll jump right at me;" and there was a certain ring in Bob's voice that told he was afraid.

"Hitch him to the fence, an' then climb over," suggested Joe.

"But I can't get him over there, for he won't go a step;" and Bob continued to hold fast to the halter, afraid to do so, but still more afraid to let go.

He had borrowed the pony, but it certainly seemed as if the animal had borrowed him, for his fear caused him to cling desperately to the halter as the only possible means of saving his life.

The boys under the alder bushes were fully alive to the fact that something should be done, although they were undecided as to what that something should be.

Joe proposed that they all rush out, and scare the pony away, but Bob insisted that he would be the sufferer by such a course. Reddy thought if Bob should show more spirit, and let the vicious little animal see that he was not afraid of him, everything would be all right; but when it was proposed that he should try the plan himself, he concluded there might be serious objections to such a course.

Ben thought that if they all took hold of the halter, they could pull the pony to the fence, and this plan was looked upon with such favor that it was adopted at once.

Every one except Abner took hold of the halter, after some little delay in getting there, owing to the readiness of the pony to use his heels at the slightest provocation. But just when they were about to put forth all their strength in pulling, the pony jumped toward them suddenly, rendering their efforts useless, and starting all save Bob back to the alder bushes in ignominious flight.

Bob still remained at his post, or, more correctly speaking, the halter, and it was very much against his will that he did so.

"I wish Chandler Merrill would come up here, an' get his old hoss, for I don't want him any longer," he said, angrily. "He ought to be prosecuted for lettin' us have such a tiger."

Bob did not seem to remember that if he had been refused the loan of the pony he would have considered Chandler Merrill very selfish; in fact, he hardly remembered anything save his own desire to get rid of the animal as quickly as possible.

"What shall I do?" he cried, in desperation. "I can't stand here all day, an' the hoss don't mean to let me get away."

"We've got to help Bob," said Toby, decidedly, as he arose to his feet again, and went toward the unfortunate clown. "If you fellers will try to hold him, I'll get on his back, an' then Bob can get away."

"But he'll throw you off, an' hurt you," objected Abner, trying to protect his newly made friend.

"I can stop him from doing that, an' it's the only way I know of to help Bob."

"You get on, Toby, an' then I'll scoot jest as soon as you get hold of the halter," said Bob, happy at this prospect of being relieved. "Then, when you get a chance, you jump off, an' we'll let somebody else take him home."

It was a hard task, and they all ran considerable risk of getting kicked; but at last it was accomplished, so far as mounting was concerned. Toby was on the pony's back, with a firm grasp of the rope that was made to serve as bridle.

"Now be all ready to run," he said; and there was no disposition to linger shown by any of his friends. "Let go!" he shouted, and at the sound of his voice the boys went one way and the pony another at full speed.

It was not until the would-be circus managers were within the shelter of the clump of bushes that they stopped to look for their partner, and then they saw him at the further end of the pasture, the pony running and leaping as if doing his best to dislodge his rider.

Even the Douglass horse seemed to be excited by the display of spirit, for he capered around in a manner very unbecoming one as old and blind as he.

Only for a few moments could they watch the contest, and then the distant trees hid Toby Tyler and Chandler Merrill's pony from view.

Some time the boys watched for Toby's return; and just as they were beginning to think they ought to go in search of him, and fearing lest he had been hurt by the vicious pony, they saw him coming from among the trees, alone and on foot.

"Well," said Bob, with a sigh of relief, "he's got rid of the hoss, an' that was all we wanted."

Toby's story, when at last, hot and tired, he reached the alder bushes, was not nearly so exciting as his partners anticipated. He had clung to the pony until they entered the woods, where he was brushed off by the branches of the trees as easily as if he had been a fly, and with as little damage.

How they should get the pony back into its owner's keeping was a question difficult to answer, and they were all so completely worn out by their exertions to get rid of him that they did not attempt to come to any conclusion regarding it.

While they were resting from their labors, and before they had ceased to congratulate each other that they had succeeded in separating themselves from the pony, Leander Leighton, his accordion under his arm and his clappers in his hands, made his appearance.

His struggle with the baby had evidently come to an end sooner than he had dared hope, and the managers were happy at this speedy prospect of hearing what their band could do in the way of music.

"Boys!" shouted Leander, excitedly, while he was some distance away, "there's a real circus comin' here next week--the same one Toby Tyler run away with--an' the men are pastin' up the bills now down to the village!"

The boys looked at each other in surprise; it had never entered into their calculations that they might have a real circus as a rival, and certainly Toby had never thought he would again see those whom he had first run away with, and then run away from. He was rather disturbed by the prospect at first, for it seemed certain that Job Lord and Mr. Castle would try to compel him to go with them; but a moment's thought convinced him that Uncle Daniel would not allow them to carry him away, and he grew as eager for more news as any of the others.

Leander knew no more than he had already told; after having been relieved from his care of the baby, he had started for the pasture, and had seen the show-bills as he came along. He was certain it was the same circus Toby had gone with, for the names on the bills were the same, and he had heard some of the townspeople say so as he came along.

"An' I shall see the skeleton an' the fat woman again," said Toby, very much delighted at the idea of meeting those kind friends from whom he had thought himself parted forever.

"Don't you s'pose you could get 'em to leave that show an' come with ours?" asked Bob, thinking perhaps some kind fortune had thrown this opportunity in their way that they might the better succeed in their project.

Toby was not sure such a plan could be made to work, for the reason that they were only intending to give two or three performances, and Mr. and Mrs. Treat might not think it worth their while to leave the circus they were with on the strength of such uncertain prospects.

"And you shall go to the show, Abner," said Toby, pleased at the opportunity he would have of making the crippled boy happy for one day at least; "an' I'll take all of you fellers down, an' get the skeleton to talk to you, so's you can see how nice he is. You shall see his wife, an' old Ben, an' Ella, an'--"

"But won't you be afraid of Job Lord?" interrupted Leander, fearful lest Toby's dread of meeting his old employer might prevent them from having all this promised enjoyment.

"Uncle Dan'l wouldn't let him take me away; an' now I'm home here, I don't believe old Ben would let him touch me."

There was evidently no probability that they would transact any more business relative to their own circus that day, so intent were they on talking about the one that was to come, and it was not until nearly time to drive the cows home that they remembered the presence of their band.

Ben proposed that Leander should show them what he could do in the way of music, so that he need not be at the trouble of bringing his accordion up to the pasture again, and the boys ceased all conversation for the purpose of listening to the so-called melody.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

CATCHING QUAIL IN INDIA.

India is a land of wonders; but among the strange sights few are more utterly ridiculous than that of a party of natives driving quail.

The quail-hunter throws a large white cloth over his head, which is extended in front by means of two sticks held in the hands. Arrayed in this manner, the quail-hunter performs various antics and movements which would lead a looker-on to suppose him insane.

There is a method in his madness, however. This remarkable adjustment of the white cloth is supposed to transform the man into a bull or other horned animal. He pretends to paw the earth, tosses his make-believe horns, turns round and round, pretending to scratch himself in true bovine fashion. It is irresistibly comic to watch him, and a little attention generally pleases him to such an extent that he will redouble his efforts and multiply his ridiculous pranks until the spectator is thrown into convulsions of laughter.

There are several distinct varieties of quail in India; they frequent open places near rivers, keeping near the ground when flying, and running rapidly among the grasses. The hunters spread fine nets around two sides of the field, and at the end they place a large cage with one or more decoy birds inside.

The idiotic-looking cow has all his wits about him. He proceeds warily; his keen eye detects the coveys of quail, and sees which way they are running. He is no more like a cow than that respectable animal is like a cucumber, but his ruse succeeds wonderfully. He moves about, tosses his head, switches his ingeniously contrived tail, and so manoeuvres that he keeps the running quail away from the unprotected edges of the field.

When they get to the verge protected by the net they begin to take alarm. They are probably a little uncertain about the peculiar-looking "old cow" behind them, and running along the net, they see the decoy quail apparently feeding in great security and comfort. The V-shaped mouth of the large basket cage looks invitingly open. The puzzling nets are barring the way, and the cow is gradually closing up behind.

As the hunter moves along, he rubs two pieces of dry stick gently up and down his thigh with one hand, thus producing a crackling sound. It is not enough to startle the birds into flight, but alarms them sufficiently to make them get out of the way. One bird, perhaps a little bolder than the others, irritated by the queer crackling sound, now enters the basket, when the others follow like a flock of sheep, and once in, the puzzling shape of the entrance prevents their exit.

Hunters will not unfrequently bag twenty or thirty brace of quail in one field by this absurdly appearing but ingenious method.

MAY I COME IN?

May I come in? My little Grace Peeps round the door with laughing face. I lift my head, and feign surprise At wistful mouth and roguish eyes.

I know she'll trip across to me, And give me kisses, one, two, three. May she come in? Of course she may-- The sweetest thing I've seen to-day.

CHATS ABOUT PHILATELY.

BY J. J. CASEY.

VIII.--SURINAM.

The design of the postage stamps of Surinam, or Dutch Guiana, is shown in the accompanying illustration, the name being spelled, of course, after the Dutch method. In English the final "e" is omitted.

Surinam lies on the northern coast of South America. On the east is French, and on the west British, Guiana. The territory over which the Dutch claim dominion is about fifty-eight thousand square miles in extent, or more than four times the size of Holland, but the actual area under cultivation is a little over two hundred square miles. The principal settlements are in the lower valley of the Surinam River, which at its mouth is three miles wide. The water is of a dirty yellow color, with bubbles on its surface, and its current can be traced far out to sea. Its source has not yet been found.

The Dutch began to visit the coasts of Guiana about 1580. In 1614, the States of Holland granted to any Dutch citizen four years' monopoly of any harbor or place of commerce he might discover in that region. The first settlement in Surinam, in 1630, was made by an Englishman, whose name is still preserved by Marshall's Creek. Thirty-six years afterward the English settlement was taken by the Zealanders, and one hundred thousand pounds of sugar were exacted as a ransom. Finally, the country was confirmed to the Dutch by treaty, in 1674.

The most renowned name connected with Surinam is that of Cornelis van Aerssens, lord of Sommelsdjik, who in 1683 purchased one-third of the territory from the New Dutch West India Company. Sommelsdjik agreed to govern the colony at his own expense, and his rule was marked by rare wisdom and energy. He repressed and pacified the Indians, he erected forts, established a court of justice, introduced the cultivation of the cocoa-nut, and, in short, devoted himself to the welfare of his people. But his soldiery turned against him, and massacred him, after five years of beneficent rule.

His death threw affairs into great confusion. It became necessary to make some new arrangement, and his widow offered to sell his large interest in the colony to William III. of England. The arrangement would not, however, have been satisfactory to Holland, and Sommelsdjik's portion of the territory was finally purchased by the city of Amsterdam.

Surinam has continued under Dutch rule from 1804, with the exception of a period of eleven years, when it was in possession of the English. Slavery was abolished during this period. There is a House of Assembly, the members of which may never be less than nine nor more than thirteen. Four are appointed by the government, and the others are regularly elected by the colonists. There is one curious provision. A royal decree may overrule a unanimous decision of the Assembly, and not infrequently a command will arrive from Holland undoing all that has been accomplished by that body.

The capital of Dutch Guiana is Paramaribo. It has a population of 22,000, a large proportion of which are negroes. The city is regularly built, and the streets present a pleasant sight, owing to the rows of tamarind and orange trees which line them on both sides. In 1832 the city was nearly destroyed by a band of negro slaves, who set fire to the city. The flames were fortunately subdued before they made any great headway. In order to deter others from making a similar attempt, the negroes who executed the horrible deed were publicly burned alive.

There are about seventeen thousand bush negroes in Surinam. These are descendants of runaway slaves, and consist of three tribes. They retain curious traces of their former connection with Christianity, though they are, and consider themselves, pagans. Their chief god is Gran Gado (grand god), his wife is Maria, and his son Jesi Kist. Various minor deities are also worshipped; Ampeeka, the bush god, Toni, the water god, etc. Among themselves these people speak a language based on a corrupt English, mingled with many Dutch, Portuguese, and native elements.

I came near neglecting to state that in Surinam, in addition to postage stamps, there are also in use postal cards, and an extensive series of revenue stamps. These are of two kinds, stamped and unstamped, and in color correspond to the postage stamps of the colony. The cards were introduced in July, 1876. A very neat frame surrounds the card, with the word "Briefkaart" at the top, and four lines for the address.

A card for fifteen cents was first issued; then followed, in 1877, a card for twelve and a half cents. But last year, a change being made in postal rates, a card of seven and a half cents was issued. As an example of the economy so characteristic of the Dutch, the old cards were still kept in use, and the change made by simply printing the new value on them in black figures.

WANTED, A LIVE RATTLESNAKE.

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.

Few strangers ever came to Cornham after the 1st of April. It was a sleepy little Southern town, and even the approach of spring made it too warm for comfort.

But one morning, when the sun was pouring down its beams with particular brightness, the few loungers at the railway station were astonished by the arrival of a middle-aged gentleman with a red beard and a pair of gold spectacles. He took lodgings at the only tavern in the place--the Bull's Head--and before he went to bed that night he had posted up by the side of the tavern door the following notice:

"WANTED, A LIVE RATTLESNAKE.

"The undersigned will pay for a live rattlesnake, not less than thirty inches long, and with at least three rattles, the sum of one dollar. The fangs of the snake must be extracted before it is offered for inspection, but the animal must not be injured in any other way, and must be perfectly healthy and lively. For a snake four feet long, with six or more rattles, two dollars will be paid.

"JOHN G. HARRIMAN."

This notice attracted the attention of a number of the people of the town, who gathered in a little crowd to read it; and after that had been done, most of the good folks sat down on the benches in front of the tavern to talk about it. It was generally agreed that Mr. Harriman must be either a showman, or one of those scientific fellows who go about the country collecting weeds and bits of stone, and all manner of worms and insects. Whatever he might have been, any one in the town who had happened to own a live rattlesnake would have been glad to let him have it for a dollar; but it was pretty certain that no one possessed such a creature. There were, however, in the stony hills and mountains around Cornham plenty of rattlesnakes, and it was in the hope of inducing some of the villagers to capture one of these for him that Mr. Harriman had put up his notice.

About nine o'clock Tom Welden came walking by the tavern, and stopped to read the notice. Tom was fourteen years old, and was the son of a farmer in the neighborhood. He had finished his morning's work about the barn, and had come into town to get something from the store.

The notice was very interesting to Tom, and he read it twice. A dollar was to him quite a large sum of money, and he was not long in making up his mind to try to get a rattlesnake for Mr. Harriman. If he could catch one four feet long, so much the better. He had nothing in particular to do that day, and he would start off at once for Block Mountain, where it was understood there were always rattlesnakes to be found.

He did not, however, wish to go on such an expedition by himself, and so he called on Charlie Crawford, one of his boy friends, and asked him to go with him.

"Is it to be half and half?" asked Charlie.

Tom hesitated a little at this. He had not thought of dividing the reward.

"All right," said Charlie, laughing. "I don't want any of the money; I'll go for fun."

But Tom was too generous a fellow to consent to anything like that. "We will first get the snake," he said, "and then we will see about dividing the money. But we must hurry up, for I've got to stop at the house on my way to the mountain."

In an hour from this time the boys had begun the ascent of Block Mountain, which was about two miles from the village. They had not gone very far up the mountain-side before they came to a cabin standing by itself on a small level space. An elderly man, very roughly dressed, was sitting on a bench by the door.