Part 3

The great ship, the _Assyrian Monarch_, arrived at New York on the morning of Easter Sunday. An immense floating derrick was brought alongside of the vessel, and heavy chains being made fast to the elephant's box, it was hoisted out of the ship, and lowered to the deck of a big lighter. Jumbo strongly disapproved of this proceeding, and mentioned it loudly. It was his opinion that the chains would break while the box was in the air, and that he would get a terrible fall. In this he proved to be mistaken, for he was brought without accident to Pier No. 1, North River, which, being built of stone and iron, was strong enough to bear his weight, and there he was landed.

It was nearly nine o'clock in the evening by the time that everything was ready for a start. Eight horses were harnessed to the box, which, with Jumbo, weighed over twelve tons, and long ropes were fastened to the axles, so that men could assist the horses in dragging the enormous load. Each rope was about two hundred feet long, and at least five hundred people took hold of them. The horses and the men made a tremendous effort, but after they had pulled the box about three feet, the wheels sank into the ground, and it could not be stirred. Mr. Barnum then sent to the Madison Square Garden for two elephants. He proposed to take Jumbo out of his box, and to introduce him to the two elephants, hoping that he would accept their invitation to take a stroll up Broadway with them, and to stop at their hotel--as they would politely call the Madison Square Garden.

Before the elephants arrived, eight more horses were harnessed to the box; it was pried out of the mud, and started slowly on its way. At the Bowling Green the two elephants from Madison Square Garden were met, and welcomed Jumbo with enthusiastic "trumpetings," to which he courteously replied. Two or three times the box came to a stop while on the way up Broadway, but the horses and men pulled and the two elephants pushed until it was in motion again. It was after midnight when the Madison Square Garden was reached, and then it was found that the box was so big it would not go through the doors. So poor Jumbo had to pass the night in the street.

On Monday, however, he was safely installed in his new home. He has not mentioned how he likes this new continent, or the strange people among whom he has come; but considering the attention he receives, and the dainties fed him by thousands of admiring little folks, he ought to be a serene and satisfied elephant.

CHASED BY A SHARK.

A REMINISCENCE OF THE RED SEA.

BY DAVID KER.

"What a jolly place for a swim! I'll have one as soon as my dinner's digested."

"Take my advice, and don't do nothin' of the sort; for if you do, as sure as eggs are eggs, there'll be somethin' else digested besides your dinner."

"How do you mean?"

"_Sharks!_"

And with this impressive conclusion, the worthy Captain turned on his heel and walked off.

We had run three parts of the way down the Red Sea, and were now anchored close to the Arabian shore, just off the Turkish fort of Koomfidah, the low massive wall of which stood out white and bare in the blistering sunshine, while beyond it stretched, far as the eye could reach, the dim immensity of the great central desert.

Our vessel lay fully a mile and a half from the shore, although it seemed within a stone's-throw in the clearness of that wonderful atmosphere. But between us and the interminable waste of flat sandy beach the clear bright water was flecked with a broad band of white, very much like a streak of thick cream, marking the whereabouts of one of those treacherous coral reefs which make the Red Sea as dangerous a place as any in the world.

Outside the reef where we lay the sea was still heaving restlessly from the effects of the gale that had blown overnight; but the broad shallow lagoon within was as calm as a mill-pond. Half a dozen gaunt, swarthy Arabs were splashing and wallowing in the smooth water with shouts of delight, which were very tantalizing to us as we "stood on the burning deck," with the very pitch melting between the planks under the intolerable heat. Others still were trooping down to the beach in their long white robes, like a train of ghosts, from the little group of tumble-down mud hovels which, clustering around the outer wall of the fort, represented the "town" of Koomfidah.

Their bathing-place was of course safe enough, for no shark could enter there; but as if on purpose to show us how little they cared for this, several of the nearest Arabs scrambled across the reef and began to swim toward us; and in a twinkling the water around our ship swarmed with dusky figures (including not a few round-faced "pickaninnies" who could not have been more than six or seven years old at the outside), plashing and paddling about as merrily as if no such thing as a shark had ever been heard of.

"Some o' them chaps'll be gettin' picked up, if they don't look out," said a young sailor, looking down at them over the bows.

"Not they!" rejoined a veteran "salt," who had made the Red Sea voyage many a time before. "Sharks never touches a Harab."

"Nor a darky neither," added another. "I've see'd the darkies in the West Injies, jist afore they dived, put tar on the palms o' their 'ands where they was rubbed white, so as to give the sharks nothin' to aim at, like."

"I take it them Harabs ain't good enough to suit Mr. Shark's taste, and mayhap it's the same way with the darkies," said No. 1, with a grin.

And the two old sea-dogs, perching themselves upon the bulwarks, watched with a look of quiet amusement the whirl of lean brown limbs that kept darting to and fro like shoals of fish through the cool, clear water.

"You see," remarked No. 1, "there ain't a sign o' _their_ bein' touched, and yet there's lots o' sharks close by, I'll be bound. But if you or me, Bill, was to jump in there, we wouldn't ha' touched the water afore there'd be 'arf a dozen o' them sea-lawyers at us all to once."

This conversation, following so closely upon the Captain's warning, certainly did not encourage me to try a swim in these perilous waters, and a little incident which occurred that very afternoon encouraged me still less.

I was standing near the binnacle, watching the bursting of the waves upon the reef, when one of them suddenly broke into a high jet of glittering spray, flinging off a shower of tiny rainbows in every direction. A second glance showed me that the rainbows were a shoal of flying-fish, which plunged again the next moment, and then leaped a second time into the air, flashing and sparkling till the whole sea appeared to be on fire.

All of a sudden, just as the graceful little sea-fairies were passing close to our stern, up through the bright, smooth water shot a huge shovel-like snout and sharp three-cornered back fin, seeming to come right from under the ship itself, and in the very midst of the fluttering column appeared a monstrous black shark, at least sixteen feet from snout to tail. One snap of his powerful jaws took in a round dozen of the terrified fish, which scattered in all directions, two or three of them leaping even clear over our bulwarks, and falling upon the deck, where the sailors inhospitably seized and cooked them for supper.

This last incident was more effectual in keeping me from risking a "dip" than either the Captain's warning or that of the sailors. But what was to be done? To be roasted as if by a slow fire for six or seven days together in a temperature of 117 in the shade, with this splendid cool sea always before me to invite me to a bath, was not to be thought of, while to escape this martyrdom by going down the throat of a shark would be a case of "out of the frying-pan into the fire."

At last a bright idea struck me. One of our quarter-boats, which was getting rather shaky, had been moored astern, and allowed to fill with water, in order to keep it from being split by the heat of the sun. Here, then, was a first-rate bath ready-made, which, if not exactly big enough for a swim, would serve admirably for every other purpose. The first experiment was a complete success, and from that time regularly every morning I slid down the mooring-rope, and had a "duck" in my floating tub, to the unbounded amusement of the Arab boys, who came splashing and chattering around me.

In this way things went on up to the very day of our departure from Koomfidah. That morning I rose earlier than usual from my "luxurious couch" (which consisted of a spare sail on the planks of the after-deck) to have just one more bath before leaving. But it is always that "just one more" which does all the mischief; and as a matter of course, after being prudent and cautious up to the very last moment, I ended by committing an imprudence which all but cost me my life.

The sea, as I well remember, seemed cooler and more tempting than ever that day, and since the appearance of that energetic gentleman who had such a good appetite for flying-fish, no sharks had been seen except at a great distance. In short, I got tired of wallowing from side to side of my boat-bath, like a hippopotamus in a tank, and decided to scramble out of it, and have a swim round the ship itself.

Twice, thrice, four times, I made the circuit of the vessel, and then, seeing no sign of danger, determined to strike farther out to sea. I was already about a hundred yards from the ship's bow, when I suddenly heard a shout that made me feel _creepy_ all over.

"Look out! here's a shark!"

Instantly came a rush in the water beside me, and up started between me and the ship the big ungainly head, the grinning teeth, the small, narrow, cruel eye, the huge pointed fin, like some ugly vision in a nightmare.

Luckily the shark's overlapping snout forces him to turn on his side in order to bite, or all would have been over at the first rush. A sudden turn foiled the monster, but the next moment he was round and at me again like an arrow. And so we went plunging to and fro, churning the smooth blue water into foam, while the shouts of the sailors (who had clustered like bees along the ship's side) seemed to rend the very sky.

But my enemy was too hungry to be scared by noise, and although we were gradually nearing the ship, always kept himself between. My breath began to fail, and I felt that before the boat could be lowered I should be past help, for the shark had turned short round and met me front to front.

There was a loud halloo from above--something splashed heavily into the water--and then the sea all round me became a whirl of foam. A billet of wood, flung from the upper deck, had hit the shark on his tenderest point, the snout; and before he could rally from this stunning blow, I had seized the anchor-chain and was safe on board.

"Captain," said I, as the worthy man came up just in time to witness my ascent, "I shall certainly take your advice after this."

"Dare say you will, when it's too late to be of any use!" growled the uncourteous skipper. "I always thought you was a fool, and now I'm sure of it."

This was certainly not complimentary, but on reflection I was much of the same opinion myself.

"DELLUSK."

BY A. W. ROBERTS.

There is in Chatham Street, New York city, an old Irish-woman who sits all day beside a stand on which is piled a substance, of a dark purple color, that strongly suggests dried red cabbage. No one seems to purchase any of this puzzling material, yet there she sits, serene and contented, behind a short black pipe.

Taking up a fragment, I found it soft and pliable. Smelling it, I seemed to be at once down by the shore at Canarsie Bay, packing soft crabs in sea-lettuce.

The old woman continued silently smoking her pipe, neither asking me to purchase nor informing me as to the cost of the mysterious substance, its use, its name, or that of the manufacturer.

Being an American, it was but natural that I should wonder if it was "patented." This word, however, proved too much for the old lady, and so I had to come down to the commonplace inquiry,

"Madam, what is this?"

"Dellusk."

"What is it good for?"

"To ate."

"Where does it come from?"

"From the say."

"I mean from what country."

"Tralee, County Kerry."

"How do you sell it?"

"Twinty cints a quart, tin cints a pint."

"Can I have this piece?"

"Yez can for a cint."

Taking a Third Avenue car for home, I secure a quiet corner seat, and say to myself, "I was born in New York city; I know it from one end to the other, particularly all things that are good to eat, but I don't know dellusk.'"

Presently we arrive at the Cooper Institute, and I ask the conductor to let me out. Hastily directing my steps toward the Astor Library, and entering, I ask the librarian for DEL in all the cyclopædias he has. I make a thorough search, and find nothing. Then I think of looking under DUL. What have we here? Not Dellusk by any means, but the following account of Dulse (_Rhodomenia palmata_): "A sea-weed of a dark purple color growing on rocks. It is used as food by the poor of Ireland, Scotland, Finland, and Iceland, and occasionally by those of the wealthier classes who have acquired a taste for it. It is eaten raw or roasted, or with vinegar as a salad. In Ireland it is boiled with milk, or broiled between hot irons. It is an important plant to the Icelanders, who eat it with zest."

Further on the same author, who is an Englishman, informed me: "In Kamtchatka a fermented liquor is made from it. Sheep are fond of it, eagerly seeking it at low water. 'De-ulse!' was once a common cry in the streets of Scotland. It is common to our coasts, but is imported from Ireland."

Some time after my conversation with the dulse woman, I purchased a pint of the sea-weed from which to obtain a perfect specimen to make a drawing. Taking it home, I left it spread out on my table. It had been there but a short time when "Landy," our old housekeeper, detected the strong odor that rises from it. In a moment she had seized my specimen, and with rapturous delight began to devour it, without even asking permission so to do.

"Oh, the beautiful, darling dellusk!" she exclaimed, between the pauses in the feast! "Shure it's thirty-five years gone last November, whin I was a slip of a girl, an' was clim'ing over the big stones in the big say, a-dryin' yez on them in the sun, till the lovely white salt would flake off, an' 'ating yez every day, till I grew so round and fat and rosy that me mother didn't know me."

I myself tried a bit of the dulse, but I can not say I liked it. At the same time I was glad to learn of one more article of food that I did not before know existed.

TOPS, AND HOW TO SPIN THEM.

BY AN OLD BOY.

Simple as it appears to the looker-on, it requires no little practice to spin a top. Only after a series of mortifying failures can a boy make sure of seeing his top successfully describe an arc through the air, disengage itself from the string, and then spin round triumphantly for some seconds upon its sharp iron point.

In order to spin a top of the common kind, the player should be provided with quite a stout piece of whip-cord, with a knot at about an inch from one end, and a large metal button attached to the other. Hold the top in the left hand, unravel the end of the whip-cord beyond the knot, and slightly wet it. Now lay the wet end along the top just above the peg, and hold it down with the thumb. Take the string in the right hand and wind it round the top, beginning at the upper part of the peg and winding gradually upward. When you have wound up all the string, put the button between the middle and third fingers; place the thumb under the peg and the fore and middle fingers on the top. Take care to keep the string tight, as otherwise it will become unwound, and all your labor will be lost.

To give the top a spinning motion, hold your hand high, and bring the arm down with a bold swing from the shoulder. It will then fly from the string with a kind of "swishing" sound, and come down on its peg with great force. A little practice will make you perfect in spinning the top, and if you know the length of your string, you can make it strike the ground exactly where you please, merely by measuring with your eye the distance from the point where you stand to the spot on which you want the top to strike.

PEG IN THE RING. To play this game, first draw a circle five or six feet in diameter, and in the centre of this draw a smaller circle about a foot in diameter. The first player throws his top at the ring, allowing it to spin. If, when it falls, it remains within the large ring, it is called "dead," and the owner is obliged to lay it in the little ring, where any one may play on it. The same penalty is incurred if the top fails to spin, and in neither case can the owner have his top again until it has been knocked out of the ring by some other player, who thus counts to himself one point. The great object in this game is to split some other player's top and keep your own safe. In order to do this, skillful players have a way of throwing the top in such a manner that if it miss the object aimed at, it leaps out of the ring with a single bound, thus getting out of danger. This feat is performed by drawing the arm smartly toward the body just before the top reaches the ground. It is not an easy thing to do, but can be accomplished by practice.

CHIP STONE is a game in which a wooden spoon is needed. Two lines are drawn on the ground five or six feet apart, and some smooth, flat stones about the size of a penny are placed between them at equal distance from each. The first player spins his top in the usual manner, slips the bowl of the spoon under it, and lifts it off the ground. He then drops it on one of the stones, and tries to drive it toward the boundary line. He may pick the top up in the spoon and drop it on the stones so long as it continues to spin, so that if a top be properly spun it may be dropped six or seven times on the stone, and drive it fairly across the boundary. When this is done, he holds the stone as a trophy of success, or wins a marble from each of the other players, as may be decided upon.

WHIP-TOPS will spin better if the point is armed with a hollow-headed brass nail, such as are used for furniture. The whip may be made of leather shoe-lacings, but the best and most lasting is eel-skin, kept in a moist condition. To whip a top the stroke should never be a high one, but the real motion should come from the wrist rather than the arm. In playing the game, tuck the whip under the left arm, and take the point between the hands, the fingers pointing downward; then place the point on the ground, and give it a twirl from right to left, which will make it spin for a second or two. As soon as you have made it spin, snatch the whip from under the arm, and give it a smart lash at the top, drawing the hand toward you as you strike. If you hit the top fairly, this stroke will make it spin well, and then you can do what you like. A way of fighting whip-tops is for two boys to stand about twenty yards apart, and lash their tops toward each other, so as to make them come in contact. Of course each player tries to knock over his adversary's top with his own. If, however, he touches his opponent's top with his whip, he is adjudged to have lost. Racing tops is another very interesting way to show one's expertness in the game.

Humming-tops are so made now that it requires no skill to spin them, and since nothing in the way of games can be done with them, save to keep them humming, it is not necessary to speak of them at any length.

The other day the Postmistress was riding in a horse-car, and she saw a lad whom she will call Jack, though she does not know his name. He was in the company of a sweet-looking old lady, who seemed to be his grandmamma. Jack was a fine healthy boy, large for his age, which was about twelve. But, dears--would you believe it?--he allowed the old lady to carry her own little basket and bundle; and when they left the car, this thoughtless boy jumped nimbly off and ran to the sidewalk, while the feeble grandmamma was helped down by the conductor, and then tottered on as well as she could, by herself.

You would have assisted her, would you not, had it been your grandmother, and given her your arm, and carried her bundles? Of course you would.

Probably Jack does not read HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

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VILLA SCIARRA, NAPLES.

I am a little girl of thirteen, and rather short for my age. We live at Naples in a nice villa by the sea-side, and there are lots of rocks, from which I get fishes and crabs. I have a little aquarium, in which are some very pretty specimens of anemones and three fishes, one large and two small. The large one knows me quite well, and dances about when I come near.

My father takes HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for me, and I like it so much! I like Jimmy Brown's stories best, and thought "The Little Dolls' Dressmaker" was beautiful. I am very fond of reading, and have 135 books, many of which came from the United States.

BLANCHE F. T.

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FORT CRAIG, NEW MEXICO.

I am ten years old, and papa says a right smart boy for my age; anyway, I heard him say so to a captain of the army last week. Father is a scout, and goes out with the soldiers after Indians. There used to be lots of bad Indians in New Mexico. My papa was wounded just one year ago. He and two miners were prospecting for gold, when five Indians jumped on them from a cañon. Papa was up on the side of a hill, and when the Indians began to fire he climbed up to the top, while the other men went for the horses, and got them out of the cañon to the creek. Papa staid and fought the Indians for about twenty minutes. He kept them off until the miners got to the creek, and after that he had a running fight for a mile. He was shot in the left hand, the bullet taking part of his gunstock with it. I own a little rifle, and am a good marksman; I can hit the bull's-eye three out of five times at fifty yards. I can ride a bucking bronco, too, and so can sister Eva. I have been reading all the letters in the Post-office Box, and thought some little folks would like to hear from New Mexico. Papa is in the mountains now, and mamma said I could write if I wished.

HARRY W. C.

What is a bucking bronco? You will have to write again and tell us. What else do you learn besides riding and shooting? Those accomplishments are very necessary ones on the frontier and in a new country, but we hope you study faithfully; and we should think your sister Eva and yourself might sketch, botanize, and collect curious specimens for your cabinets. We hope your papa may not come to such close quarters with "bad" Indians again.

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FLORA, CUBA.

I am a little girl ten years old, and I have never been away from my country, but I am learning English with my governess, and I hope papa will take me to New York this summer. As perhaps you have never been in Cuba, I wish to tell you something about my beautiful island. The climate is delightful and healthy enough. We have many fine fruit trees--oranges, limes, and lemons. When the trees are young they are a lighter green than when they are old; they have many thorns, and the leaves are pointed. The fruit is not very large, but is very good, and is planted by seeds in the rainy weather. We have several kinds of oranges; the best is called China. The trees have white flowers, which are called azahar, and make a very good essence and oil.

MARY DE A.

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HAVANA, CUBA.