Part 3

Now it is blue's turn to try for a goal, and the blue Captain has a great reputation as a kicker of goals. Carefully placing the ball, with a due allowance for the direction of the wind, he sends it just high enough to be out of reach of the reds who face him, and a few inches over the bar between the poles.

A great shout goes up from the blues, which is taken up by their supporters outside of the ropes, for the blues have made the first and only goal; and as it very often happens that in a well-contested game neither side makes a goal, such a feat is sure to excite much enthusiasm.

After a minute's pause the players return to the centre of the field, but hardly have they taken their places when the referee calls "Time!" This means that half of the time allowed for the game has elapsed, and so the players change ends, in order that whatever advantage of wind and sun one side has had may now be enjoyed by the other.

But we have no time to follow the game any further. The blues kick off, and flushed with victory so far, they strive to hold the advantage they have gained. The reds, on the other hand, have an up-hill game to play, for a goal won is equal to four touch downs in goal, and so they have to fight hard to regain the ground they have lost.

Did they do it? Ah, well, that is a secret. We can not stay to see the end of the game, and as I am not certain which side the sympathies of my readers are with, I shall not say. Some of them will, I hope, some day be "reds" or "blues," and then they will enjoy in reality the rush and excitement of the game, and taste the sweets of victory on many a hard-fought field.

A PINCUSHION.

Some little girl may like to make a pincushion, perhaps for mamma, or to leave slyly on sister's toilette table, where she will see it the first thing Christmas morning. Look attentively at our picture, and then go to the scrap-bag, and search for two pretty pieces. They need not be alike; in our cushion the bottom is garnet velvet, and the top cream-colored satin. Velvet, silk, and satin are nice materials to use, but any strong, serviceable woollen fabric will do just as well. Cut them square, and take two pieces of strong muslin of the same size for inside lining. Lay them over one another, first a piece of lining, then the two outside pieces, and lastly the second piece of lining. Then sew them firmly together on three sides. Clip away the corners outside the seam. Then turn the whole right side out, and stuff it. Sawdust is very good for this purpose. Pack in very tightly just as much of it as you can make it hold. Then turn in the edges of the fourth side, and overseam them neatly and firmly. Put some pretty tassel fringe, in colors to match, around the edge, and your cushion is finished. A handy little girl will know how to make the fringe of remnants of bright-colored wool. For those of our girls that know something of embroidery we give in Fig. 2 a pretty pattern in which to work the top. The cream-colored top of our cushion is decorated in this manner with olive and dark red silk; the olive is used for the little sprays, the stems, and the outside of the rose-buds, and the red for the heart of the bud. It looks very pretty, and the work is really of the simplest kind. If you will turn back to your last year's volume of YOUNG PEOPLE, and look at some of the articles on embroidery for girls, by Miss Susan Hayes Ward, you will find directions for embroidering which will help you very much in decorating the top of your cushion.

THE OWL AND THE BAT.

BY PALMER COX.

Oh, lively was the group of birds that met on Beaver Flat The night on which the hooting owl was wedded to the bat! It was a sight that summer night to see them gather there; Some came by water, some by land, and others through the air.

The eagle quit the mountain-peak to mix with meaner fowl, And like a comrade act the part of groomsman to the owl; The friendly stork had hastened there with long and stately stride; It was its happy privilege to give away the bride.

And when arrangements were complete, a circle wide they made, And in the centre stood the pair, in finest dress arrayed. Then out in front advanced the crow, and bowed his shining head, And with three loud approving caws declared the couple wed.

Then kind congratulations poured from friends on every side, As thronging round the happy pair, they kissed the blushing bride. And soon the supper was prepared, for each had brought a share. The crow and jay had carried corn; the eagle brought a hare;

The curlew brought a string of fish just taken from the lake; The crane, a brace of speckled frogs; the buzzard brought a snake; The owl and active hawk procured a dozen mice, at least; The snipe and rail brought water-flies to help along the feast.

And when each bird upon the ground enjoyed a hearty meal, They whistled tunes, and sang their songs, or danced a lively reel. Around the green with stately mien the dodo and curlew Moved like a pair of lovers there through dances old and new,

While wing to wing and toe to toe, with loud and joyous cries, The stork and raven danced as though competing for a prize. That night good feeling was restored between the hawk and jay, Who had not passed a friendly look or word for many a day;

And birds that always went to roost before the shades of night Now hopped around upon the ground until the morning light. And people long will call to mind the scene on Beaver Flat The night on which the hooting owl was wedded to the bat.

OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.

We have very great pleasure in publishing a letter from the kind lady who has charge of the ward in which our Young People's Cot will be placed when sufficient money shall have been contributed to endow it. We think that perhaps after reading this letter, with its touching description of the ward, and suggestive account of the manner in which the little sick children play at nursing their dolls, some of you who have not yet done so may like to give a Christmas offering to aid this good work. When we shall be so happy as to hear that the cot is really ours, we will take a special interest in the little ones who may occupy it.

ST. MARY'S FREE HOSPITAL FOR CHILDREN, 407 WEST THIRTY-FOURTH STREET, NEW YORK, _November_, 1881.

MY DEAR YOUNG PEOPLE,--It has been suggested to me that you would like to hear something of the "Holy Innocents' Ward" from one who knows all about it. Now I certainly "know all about it," for I see it at almost every hour of the day, and very often at different hours of the night. But whether I can say what will be of interest to you is to me a very doubtful question. You have already been told who furnished the ward; but I wonder how many have really seen it, and know just what it is like? I am _sure_ that some of you have, but for the benefit of those who live far away, I will give a little description; and when We come to tell of your own cot, you will have perhaps a better understanding as to its place in the ward, etc., etc.

The "Holy Innocents' Ward," then, is a long room, with two large windows at either end reaching almost from the ceiling to the floor. Outside of these windows are piazzas, where in warm weather the little ones can sit in their tiny rocking or arm chairs, and listen to the "moosic man" or shake hands with a favorite monkey who climbs up on the outside of the house, and to whom they always give a few pennies, and a drink from one of their own mugs.

In cold weather the children--those who are able to be up, of course--can sit close to the windows inside, and see all that is taking place in the street. On either side of the ward are rows of blue cribs with brass knobs on the corners, and hanging over each crib is a little blue frame holding a card, on which is written the name of the child who sleeps in the cot. Between each crib is a small square table with a shelf underneath. The shelves of these tables are for toys, and the tops are used for a great many different purposes. Sometimes you would find on one of them a tiny red tray holding a cup of milk-punch, on another a glass of flowers, or at times a queer-looking deep tray, in which are kept lint, bandages, plaster, etc. In addition to the tables beside the beds, each crib has a little table that stands on it--something like a butler's tray, with four legs, only the little ledge is around three sides instead of four. These "bed-tables," as they are called, can be put close up to the children, and were intended to hold the toys, scrap-books, and the blocks out of which are built most marvellous houses, that come down with a terrible "bang"--the louder the better, (Occasionally a small child has been discovered sitting on one of these little tables; but that, of course, is "out of order," although it may be a good symptom of returning health.)

There is still another table, that stands on the floor, and around which several children can sit and play together; sometimes--in fact, often-times--the favorite play is "Hospital"; and I have often seen _very_ sick dolls, who are treated in the most skillful manner. They are probed and bandaged, have their pulses and temperatures taken, are given "mick-punce" and "q'nine," have weights tied to their feet, and poultices on their chests. The ward also contains a small organ and a large music-box, and around the walls are several pretty pictures. Now can you see it all?--the long room; the blue cribs with brass knobs; the little ones in bed with bright red jackets on; those able to be up sitting in the tiny chairs, and wearing gray wrappers bound with red, and fastened with red buttons; the sun shining through the long windows on the little ones sitting near or at the "play table," and perhaps just lighting up "Young People's Cot"; the little organ, the music-box, and the pictures? I hope so; and when I write again, I will tell you just where your own cot is.

S.

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TERRA CEIA ISLAND.

I am a little girl from New York who came to this beautiful island a year ago in October with mamma for her health. The climate is lovely, and has benefited mamma very much, for which I feel repaid, and am willing to be away from other children for her sake. There are only two little children besides myself on the island, and sometimes weeks pass and I do not see a child's face. We live in the midst of a beautiful orange grove, and have one of the largest and handsomest-looking orange-trees in the State. Last year it bore 4200 oranges; this year not as many. Others of our trees are bearing from 800 to 2000 each. We have fine bananas, figs in their season, guavas, plums, lemons, and other fruits of which we are very fond. The ivory-billed woodpecker steals our figs, and the pretty, naughty redbirds pick all the fruits and vegetables. Meat is scarce here sometimes, and my uncle has to shoot the quails or the pink curlews, with their beautiful spoon-bills, and the blue herons, with their lovely large human-looking eyes. We must sometimes have them to take the place of fresh meat, but not often, as uncle dislikes killing the beautiful birds, which never do any one any harm. The redbirds sing sweetly. The little phoebe-birds call "Phoebe" all day long. The mocking-birds are the first to sing in the morning, and the last at night. In the summer the quails say, "Bob White," "Bob White." The beautiful gray mourning doves come around a little later, and at night a bird that takes the place of the Northern whip-poor-will calls out, "Whip the widow," in the same strain as the whip-poor-will. I am very fond of my island home. There is a beautiful bay that our grove and house front on, called Terra Ceia Bay, about five miles long, and in some places nearly two miles wide. I have a small row-boat that I go out in with mamma, and sometimes I stand in the stern of the boat, with a long pole, and pole the boat in shallow water. The beautiful sunsets we see on the water sometimes make me wish other children could enjoy natural scenery and the wonders of the sky as I see them here. We have very fine fish called mullet that are caught with a cast net, besides other kinds, clams, and oysters.

I have four cats, named Punch and Judy (because I thought those names different to others in general) and Beauty and Topsy, and a dog named Jip. One day Jip was barking furiously, and we went to see what was the matter, and for the first time he saw himself in the looking-glass. We had a hearty laugh.

Another day he made a great deal of noise when a praying mantis, shaped similar to our large Southern grasshoppers, but with a waist similar to a wasp, instead of its being on all four legs, was standing up straight, with its fore-legs raised in an attitude of devotion, looking right at the dog. When we came, it turned around with its head, just like a Shaker woman, and looked first at one of us and then at the other, without moving its body.

I was so interested in "Toby Tyler," and knowing that Mr. Otis must like children, and as you say he is now through our State travelling in his little steam-yacht, please give him an invitation to call on us and eat some of our fine oranges, as we will have them until April. Aunt and uncle and mamma join in the invitation. He--that is, Mr. Otis--can sail from Key West or Cedar Keys into the Gulf of Mexico, then into Tampa Bay, into the mouth of Manatee River, through the cut-off into our Terra Ceia Bay. Or he could keep in the Manatee River to Palma Sola, at the Warner Mill, and they could show him through the small cut-off into our bay. We are very hospitable, and have wanted to see him ever since he wrote "Toby Tyler," and about his pet bird.

I was afraid Jimmy Brown was on a long vacation. So long as he has to be in so much trouble, please ask him to tell his tales of woe oftener, and relieve his mind.

Sometimes I go over to Manatee after my paper with my uncle. We go in a sail-boat, and I enjoy sailing so much! I wanted to have a little vegetable garden of my own, so uncle let me have a patch, and I set out fifty tomato plants, just to see what a little girl could do; they are growing finely, and putting on blossoms now--not all, but part of them.

Mamma teaches me, as there is no school near us short of six miles, and I would have to go in a sail-boat to attend school. I have most of my time taken up, as mamma teaches me to be industrious, and wishes me to try to grow up a smart girl, as it would have pleased papa so much, had God permitted him to live and know his little girl was trying to do right.

FLORENCE M. BREWSTER, P. O. Braidentown, Manatee Co., Fla.

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The verses which follow were sent by a little reader:

THE CHRYSANTHEMUM'S SONG TO THE MOON.

I stand in a little box At a lowly cottage door; I grow and grow and grow and grow Till I can grow no more. My leaves are the brightest green, My flowers the purest white, Of any flowers you've ever seen, O Moon, so large and bright. O Moon up there so high, As you nightly roll along, Please don't forget me in my box As I sing my little song.

ANNIE L. C.

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MILFORD, CONNECTICUT.

I wrote a letter once before, but it wasn't published. I know you can not publish all the letters that are sent you. I thought I would try again. My brother has two pet owls. He feeds them on raw meat. They are very pretty. At some times they look very small, and at other times they stick their feathers out and look like a ball of feathers. Their eyes are very large; they have two eyelids. The under one is so thin that they can see through it. The upper one is covered with little feathers. Besides raw meat, they eat mice. We catch them alive, and when we put one in the cage, one of the owls will jump on it, and catch it in his claws, and bite it in the back of its neck, and kill it. He then tears pieces off, and eats them. We have some bantams. The old bantam hen lays her eggs in the corner of the kitchen in a basket. Last spring she sat on six eggs in the basket in the kitchen, and hatched five chickens, but one of them died, so we have only four now.

JULIA B. S.

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ST. JOHN'S, MICHIGAN.

I want to tell you about an adventure that happened in Florida last winter. A gentleman and a boy went up Dunn's Lake on a fishing expedition. When they got as far as Haw Creek they found that alligators were plenty there, having come out to sun themselves, as is their custom in the early spring. Mr. Lee succeeded in shooting a good-sized one, about twelve feet long, and after much trouble he was got into the boat; but as he took up so much room, one of the men had to sit upon the alligator, supposing him to be dead, of course. They rowed as fast as possible toward town, but had not gone far when his 'gatorship gave a mighty jump, throwing the man up into the air, and nearly overturning the boat. However, they reached the town in safety, and hauled him up on the dock, where he lay for some time on exhibition to an admiring crowd. My friend John, being of an inquiring turn of mind, leaned over the animal to take a close inspection of him, when he gave a flop with his tail which knocked John quite over.

This is a true story, and I hope it will be printed.

ROBERT E. C.

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Sometimes letters reach Our Post-office Box in rather a roundabout way. For instance, the other day we opened an envelope bearing the post-mark Orange, Los Angeles County, California. We found in it a letter from a gentleman living there, who sends HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE to a little cousin in Dublin, and she and several of her school-mates had sent a budget of letters to him for their favorite paper. We can make room for only one, though all were pleasant little letters for a Post-office Box to receive:

CLONTARF, DUBLIN, IRELAND.

I am in school. I have a sister who is married in America, and my brother-in-law sends me HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. I have two little nephews, one just four years old, and the other two. I have a number of dolls, and a very playful little kitten only a few weeks old. His whole name is Prince Albert Victor, but we call him Prince for short. My home is in Ireland, and very near the sea, and I am eleven years old. I hope my letter will reach the Post-office Box.

LOUISA E. A. E.

Louisa may tell Molly W. K. and Lillie R. that we appreciate their compliments, and are sure they must have a very delightful time at school. We never before heard of a dog that was fond of sugar, though we once saw a cat that ate pea-nuts.

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CHERRY VALLEY, MASSACHUSETTS.

I am a little boy twelve years old, and was born with but one hand. I am writing with my left hand. I attend school, and am trying to be a good scholar. I have a nice large Newfoundland dog, and I think the world of him. We play together a great deal. My papa was a soldier in the army for three years, and now belongs to the Grand Army. I have a great many books which papa has bought for me. I have no brothers nor sisters, three brothers having died. I ride horseback often after school is over. I have a nice saddle and bridle.

WILLIS J. B.

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BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

You wanted us all to tell you about vacation, and I will do so now if it is not too late. I spent mine at Red Bank, N. J. The place where we boarded was terraced right down to the Shrewsbury River. There was a little dock, and a boat which we could use whenever we wanted it. One day we all went fishing, and mamma caught three ugly toad-fish. The jelly-fish look very graceful and pretty as they float through the water, but we used to bathe every day at high tide, and sometimes they stung us very badly. We went in after dark sometimes, and when we splashed the water it looked like fire. One day I fell off the dock; it did not hurt me, but my clothes and shoes were not worth bringing home. Another boy fell off one Sunday morning, just after his mother had dressed him in all his best clothes to meet some company who were coming from New York to spend the day. We used to ride every day. All of the roads are good, but one, to Seabright, is so level, and has such beautiful residences, hedges, miniature lakes, etc., it was almost like driving through a park.

One evening two young men rowed some young ladies to their home, about three miles up the river. The young men started home about ten o'clock. As the night was very dark, they had a lantern. When they got about half way, one of them wanted to smoke, and as they had no matches, he opened the lantern to light his cigar. A puff of wind blew out the light. They could see nothing at all, but they rowed patiently on, until they felt sure they must be near home. Just then they heard some one shout, "Boat ahoy!" so they pulled in, very thankful to be at home. One of them said, "Is this _our_ dock?"

"Dunno," said the man: "this is _Smith's_ dock." Then he put his lantern close, so he could see them, and shouted, "Blessed if you ain't the fellers what left here two hours ago!"

They had somehow got turned round and gone back. I think they paid the boatman something to keep quiet to the girls, but they had such a discouraged look next morning that I felt glad I was only a little boy.

PERCY L. MCD.

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C. Y. P. R. U.

V. O. found dandelions lifting their cheery little faces to the autumn sunshine in Central Park on November 20. Did any one else see the dear, sturdy little flower so late? When its golden disks star the meadows in spring, we always give it a welcome. It seems even brighter when it blooms on the edge of frost and cold in the fall.

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CIBBY C.--Your little story is very nicely written, and if you persevere you will very likely succeed in composing better stories when you shall be older.

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The Postmistress thinks you will like to read the following extracts from the diary of a boy who spent his summer abroad. The glimpses of other lands which we obtain through the bright eyes of youthful travellers are very charming to those who stay at home:

NOTES BY THE WAY.