Part 4

I have thought for a long time that I would like to write and tell about my two black dolls, Ned and Dinah. They were sent to me for a Christmas present when I was four years old. They came in the cars all alone from Portland, Maine, tied in a little chair. The night they arrived I had gone to bed, and mamma set them up on the piano so that I might see them the first thing when I got up in the morning. At first I was afraid of them; but I soon got over that, and have always loved them the best of all my dolls. I have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE from the first, and like it better and better. I think Jimmy Brown's stories are very funny.

MARY S. M.

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EAST LIVERPOOL, OHIO.

I live on the banks of the Ohio River, and in a town where they make a great deal of white-ware. Nearly all the little girls and boys that write have pets. I have none except my dolls, and I have five of them. One of them I have not named; could you tell me a nice name for it? The little girls around here have doll parties just for their dolls.

EDNA S.

The best thing about doll parties is the fun the dolls' mammas always have on such occasions. Perhaps some little girl will help you name your baby; and when you write again, ask your papa to tell you something about the manufacture of the ware you speak of, so that you can describe it for the little readers of Our Post-office Box.

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WASHINGTON, D. C.

I have never written to a paper before, but this one is so nice that I must write one letter to it.

Whenever any little girls write and say they wish we would send them some toys or money for the poor children who have nothing, I want to do it very much; but all the toys we have are wanted, and there are no broken ones to fix up and send.

We have only one pet--a pussy. Her name is Black Beauty, because she is black all over, except a white breastpin. In the country where we were this summer there were seven kittens. My little sister and I fed them, and played with them nearly all day. One of them was very gentle. I have often swung it over my shoulder by its tail, and never but once saw it get angry.

I love dolls very dearly, and play with them often. We have eight dolls in our house, and made them three presents apiece Christmas. It is a great deal of fun to make presents for them, and play that they can see and hear us.

I have only three big dolls myself, and one is a great curiosity. She was fourteen years old last September--two years older than I am. Her name is Clara Georgiana.

I have a sweet, cunning little baby, whose name is Anna Aldora. One of her arms is off, and the other is coming.

My best doll is Louise Elizabeth, a fine young lady.

EMILY N.

We wish you would promise yourself that you will not swing poor kitty by her tail again; it must be disagreeable and even painful to her, and we are sure you do not wish to hurt one of your pets.

Could not you spare one of your eight dolls for some little convalescent in a hospital, or some girl who has no playthings to amuse herself with? Perhaps, dear, if you choose one of the prettiest, and send her away, you will be surprised to find that the giving it away has made you very happy. You remember Mrs. Lillie's story of "Marjorie's New-Year's Eve," don't you? We know, for we have proved by trying, that the only way to get real enjoyment is to deny ourselves for others.

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ORANGE, NEW JERSEY.

Christmas morning, when we all rushed to the pretty tree, with its bright lights and presents, my little brother Clarence's stocking was squirming around, and out popped a wee black head with two bright eyes, and there was a puppy, all black but its brown feet and two brown spots over its cute little eyes. It weighed one and a half pounds, and is so spry and sweet! I know it has made us more pleasure than all the rest Santa Claus brought us, for we all love it so much! Brother named it Penny right away. If the milk-man does not bring us good fresh milk, Penny will not touch it. Mamma says the milk inspectors ought to have such a "taster."

I wonder if any of the little girls know how to make light, spongy-bread without yeast? Just use flour and water; some call it salt-rising, and some milk-rising, but it can be made nice without milk.

We are always glad when YOUNG PEOPLE comes.

NORA M. H.

Will not Nora ask her mamma to send Our Post-office Box the precise receipt for this bread?

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WALHALLA, SOUTH CAROLINA.

Happy New Year! In reading the letters published in YOUNG PEOPLE I have never seen one from here. May not one of the girls write? Our little town nestles at the very feet of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Those who live near the mountains can imagine how lovely a view they present. Last night it snowed, and they look prettier than ever. We have two very good colleges here, male and female. I go to the one, and brother to the other. I love our dear president, Dr. S. Tell Marie Louise Usher I wish I had something to offer in exchange for her deer horns; also, to write again, for I enjoy her letters. Have the girls and boys many pets? I have four. I love dogs, but not cats. As this is my first time, I will write no more.

KITTY.

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FULTON, TENNESSEE.

I live on the Mississippi River, and we can see boats from our house. I think your little paper is so nice. I love to hear the boats coming, because I then know that my paper will soon arrive. I have two of the loveliest puppies you ever saw. Their names are Blanche and Ruby. They are pure white. I have also two cats--Paul Myrick and Susie Silver. Susie hardly ever comes home. One day mamma and myself heard a mouse in the wood-box, and we caught her and put her in the box. She caught the mouse in a hurry. I got a nice Bible on Christmas, with my name on it, and a large wax doll too. I have seven dolls now. Good-by.

A. L. M.

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OSWEGO, KANSAS.

This is the first time I have written to this paper, and I would like to tell about Christmas. There was a Christmas tree here; I got a few presents, but not many. I have not any pets to speak of. I am staying at my grandmother's now, and go to school, and read in a Fourth Reader, and I am nine years of age.

CLINTON D.

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C. Y. P. R. U.

THE SEVEN SLEEPERS OF EPHESUS.--An allusion was made in this column a few weeks ago to the long sleep of Rip Van Winkle, whose story is told by Washington Irving. Rip was the village good-for-nothing, a kind-hearted fellow, who had the bad habit of drinking to excess, and who spent hours in lounging about with his dog and gun when he ought to have been earning food for his family. It was little wonder that Dame Van Winkle scolded and stormed.

Rip's home was in a nook of the Catskill Mountains. One day he wandered off in search of game. He met some queer old fellows playing at nine-pins, and they left their keg of liquor where Rip could taste it, while they gravely rolled their balls about. Rip took several tastes, and finally fell asleep.

He supposed that he had slept only one night; but when he awakened, stiff and sore, and made his way down the hills to the settlement, tradition says that he had slept no less than twenty years. His wife was dead. His old comrades were gone. His little girl had a chubby child of her own in her arms. The war of the Revolution had been fought. The face of the world had changed.

Now the Postmistress wants to tell you something very curious about this legend of Rip Van Winkle. Like many other myths, it is found, in different forms, in far-away countries and remote periods. The Greeks had something like it in the exquisite story of the shepherd Endymion; but Endymion did not grow old and gray in his slumbers, as Rip did. In Scandinavian mythology there is a legend of Siegfrid lying sound asleep, but awaiting, a call to fight when his country shall need him. In Bohemia three miners are supposed to be dreaming in the heart of the lonely hills. But the most picturesque of all the stories is the one I am about to tell you of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus. It is also very ancient.

In the days of the Emperor Diocletian the Christians at Ephesus were persecuted. All who refused to worship idols were condemned to death.

Maximian, Malchus, Marcian, Dionysius, John, Serapion, and Constantine were seven young men of noble birth. They said they would never deny their Lord and Master Jesus Christ. The Emperor gave them a few days to consider their course, telling them that they would certainly be executed unless they obeyed him. They divided their goods among the poor, and retired together to a cave in Mount Celion, where they fell asleep.

Diocletian hunted for them everywhere, but they could not be found. He blocked up with great stones the mouth of the very cavern in which they were, thinking that if they were hidden in its recesses they would not escape his wrath, but would die of hunger.

More than two centuries passed away. Then, according to tradition, an Ephesian building a stable on the side of Mount Celion took a fancy to the big stones in the cave's mouth. He carried them away, daylight poured in, the sounds of the outside world penetrated the silence, and the Seven Sleepers rubbed their eyes, awoke, and felt hungry. It was to them as though they had slept but one day.

Malchus went into the city to buy some food. Everything was strange to him. Everywhere, on houses and temples, he saw the sign of the cross. He heard men using Christ's name. When he went into a baker's shop to buy a loaf, and offered in payment a coin more than two hundred years old, the people stared, and the baker, who happened to be a coin collector, wanted to know where he had discovered so great a treasure. And Malchus, bewildered and confused, was taken before the Governor and the Bishop, and to them he told simply how he and his friends had gone to hide from danger, and how they had fallen asleep, and had just awakened. Then he led the great men and the crowd who followed them to the place where his six companions were impatiently waiting for him to return.

There they were, young, beautiful and blooming. But they were in a world which they did not know, and which did not know them, so the beautiful story says that God kindly took them to Himself before long in the sweet sleep which has no waking on earth.

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WASHINGTON, D. C.

DEAR POSTMISTRESS,--I read a letter in YOUNG PEOPLE, from St. Clair, Michigan, in which a little girl asks you for a name for a club of five, and some suggestions as to pleasant work, and I thought I would write to you about the club I belong to. There are five of us, and our name is the "T. J. G.'s." It was a profound secret for a long time what T. J. G. meant; but one of the girls forgot, and let it slip out. We fined her five cents; and now I suppose I may tell you--The Jolly Girls. Our badge is a bow of garnet ribbon, with a tiny bell fastened to it. We meet every Friday evening, and spend two or three hours in reading and conversation. Some one reads aloud. Our last book was _Dr. Gilbert's Daughters_. If any one is absent, she must pay a penny into the club fund. We are saving our money to buy books. During the holidays we had a little party, and invited eighteen of our friends. We had dancing and refreshments, and one of the city papers complimented our entertainment very highly. I am nine years old. I have had YOUNG PEOPLE from the first number. I like fairy stories better than any other kind. Washington looked like fairy-land on Christmas. My mother says that it is the most beautiful city in the world except Paris.

M. JOSEPHINE C.

As I have just been reading _Dr. Gilbert's Daughters_ myself, I can imagine what a pleasant time you five T. J. G.'s have had over the troubles of May and Fay. There is a great deal of poetry in fairy stories, and I suppose that is why most people are so very fond of them. I think your badge is very pretty and unique, and I wish other girls and boys who belong to little clubs and circles would write and tell me about them.

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C. Y. P. R. U. means Chautauqua Young People's Reading Union, and the papers prepared for the select reading of its members, and published in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE from week to week, are recommended and approved by the Rev. Dr. J. H. Vincent, president of the parent society which bears the familiar and now celebrated name of Chautauqua. We state this for the benefit of some of our new subscribers, who do not understand the five mystic letters at the head of this column.

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We would call the special attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. to a most interesting article on music, by Mrs. John Lillie, entitled "About Crotchets and Quavers"; and to "Home Gymnastics for Stormy Days," wherein Sherwood Ryse explains to the boys and girls how they may keep their muscles exercised and their cheeks rosy even though confined in-doors by bad weather. They will also be interested in the account of the sheep-dogs of the Scottish Highlands given under the title of "The Shepherd's Friends"; and in Mr. J. M. Murphy's account of "A Deer Hunt in the Rocky Mountains," the incidents of which were drawn from the practical experience of this well-known hunter.

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Correct answers to puzzles have been received from "The Two Orphans," John Fred Hilton, C. A., Mabel B. Canon, Mary E. White, M. F. Tomes, Willie Volckhausen, "Lodestar," Wilfred J. Vrooman, George A. Simpson, Patchie Clark, Nellie J. Flagler, John Phelan, Frank Van Dorn, Ella Banks, Louie Price, Helena Sanders, George Hicks, Jennie May Ridgway, "Queen Bess," Richard W. Coutts.

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PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

A LADDER.

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The bars are respectively a cotton cloth, a weapon, marine substances, a beautifier, and an intruder. From the sides an ingenious person will spell the name of an immortal book, and find out its author.

KITTY CLOVER.

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No. 2.

AN ACROSTIC.

1. A musical instrument. 2. A girl's name. 3. A coin. 4. The past. 5. Urns. 6. A mountain range. 7. A part of the day. 8. Repose. 9. A door. 10. A portion of the house. 11. Trees. 12. A period of duration. The first letters spell the name of a gentlewoman famous in English history.

ALICE CHISHOLM.

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No. 3.

TWO EASY WORD SQUARES.

1.--1. A small insect. 2. A melody. 3. Points. 4. Pipes.

2.--1. A giant. 2. Increased. 3. Advice. 4. A pitcher.

JOHNNIE M.

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No. 4.

ENIGMA.

In sleep, not in wake. In sunshine, not in cloud. In opal, not in flake. In wrapper, not in shroud. In singing, not in crying. In shouting, not in sighing. In opening, not in shutting. In ripping, not in cutting. In mounting, not in standing. Silent, swift, grand, expanding. Which poet tells my story? Who am I, and what's my glory?

MOTHER BUNCH.

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No. 5.

THREE CHARADES.

1.

The little maid with whom you played Would be a chatter-box. But that my second round my first Unfortunately locks; So blushing in her pride, she sits And mends her father's socks.

2.

My first is on the milk-maid seen, And on the belted knight, And on the champion cricketer, And on the lady bright. My second's scattered everywhere In earth and air and sea. And for my third, it's owned to be The birthright of the free. And in my whole, if trouble come, All patriots in a trice Would march in armor to the front, Though life should be the price.

3.

My first is without color. My second is without beauty. My whole is always useful, and is an adjunct of the beautiful.

MCIVOR.

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No. 6.

TWO HALF-SQUARES.

1.--1. A grain. 2. Warmth. 3. To take food. 4. A preposition. 5. A letter.

2.--1. Rubbish. 2. An eruption. 3. A tree. 4. A lullaby. 5. An aspirate.

CHARLIE.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 115.

No. 1.

A pair of skates.

No. 2.

T Y A R E B O A T R E E S Y O U N G E E L A N D S G

No. 3.

M in D A mb I C atholi C B ea K E xhal E T o N H i S

No. 4.

Scissors.

No. 5.

Honesty is the best policy. Test. No. Hoist. Bite. Lye. Honey. Spice.

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[_For Exchanges, see 2d & 3d pages of cover._]

MIRTHFUL MAGIC.

BY G. B. BARTLETT.

THE BLAZING SNOW-BALL.

One of the most astonishing and amusing tricks has been lately performed by a German Professor, which is so simple that any boy can very easily do it when he knows how.

In the parlor where it was first tried a party of scientific gentlemen and ladies were seated conversing upon subjects of deep interest, and the Professor had been explaining the bias of the mind toward superstition. "For instance," said he, "I can easily convince you that I can perform an impossibility, or something that has at least always been so considered. I can light a snow-ball with a common match." Of course all present ventured to doubt this statement, and several declared that it was impossible to deceive them into such a belief. The Professor at once opened the window, and took from the sill a great handful of snow which had lately fallen. Rolling it up into a ball, he placed it upon a plate, and passed it around to be inspected by each member of the company. All having assured themselves that everything was correct, and that there was no deception in the plate or snow, he placed the plate upon the mantel, rolled the snow into a closer ball, and in the full view of all the company, took a common match from the match-box, and lighted the snow-ball, which immediately broke out into a cheerful blaze. The Professor then passed the plate around to each of the company, and great were the expressions of astonishment as the flame rose higher and higher from the snow. Some economists doubtless planned a wise paper on the advantage to the poor to be derived from this new species of fuel, and no one of the incredulous could guess how the clever trick was done. It was very simple, however. The Professor had slipped a piece of crude camphor, of about the size and shape of a chestnut, into the top of the snow-ball. He then applied the match to the smaller end, which was uppermost, and was pushed so far into the soft snow as to be invisible.

A smart boy can make a great deal of fun by giving a burlesque lecture on heat, and illustrating it by this remarkable experiment. He can have the small piece of camphor, sharpened to a point, in his vest pocket, and can take it out while feeling for a match, and can easily slip it into the snow-ball just before lighting it. The softer and fresher the snow, the easier it will be to conceal the slight difference in color between the two substances, which becomes less perceptible after the camphor has burned for a few moments.

ENIGMA.

A very little thing am I, Not found in ocean, earth, or sky; Who'll find me out? who'll guess? who'll try?

Me do the vivid lightnings bring, And without me the fierce Fire King Is nothing but a shapeless thing.

Yet in the frigid arctic clime You'll find me in the ice and rime, And in the iceberg's height sublime.

You hear me in the winds that wail When driving wintry ice and hail To shiver rigging, ship, and sail.

You'll see me in the sunshine bright That glitters in the lily white, And in the flick'ring faint moonlight.

You'll spy me in your birthday gift, And in the rippling river swift That issues from the hill-side rift.

Within the rain that feeds the ground, And in the ship that's homeward bound, And in deep tin mines am I found.

Seek me in china, not in delf; And when you've guessed, quick-witted elf, You'll find I'm not unlike yourself.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, January 31, 1882, by Various