Chapter 2

"Au printemps Poiseau nait et chante, N'avez-vous pas oui sa voix? Elle est pure, simple, et touchante, La voix de Poiseau dans les bois."

So sang Julie Garnier, as she trudged with weary little feet up the mountain-side, listening to the birds, and in search of the squaw in charge of the doors of Day and Night. The pretty Indian legend had bewitched her. Here she was wandering away from all who cared for her, to see an old woman who cut up the old moons into stars; and already twilight was making the woods more dusky. The slanting sunbeams made a golden green in the young underbrush; the birds were seeking their nests; night would soon wrap the world in darkness; then what would become of Julie? The good God would protect her, she felt sure. But she was undoubtedly hungry, and yonder, where the road turned, was a great flat stone; on it she might rest, and eat a little ginger cake she happened to have in her pocket. To it she hastened, and what a world of beauty lay before her! It was at the head of a ravine, one of those deep mountain gorges lined with pines and cedars, through which rushed a rapid stream, but beyond this and over it were the dark defiles of the mountain range sweeping away to the north in purple shadows, while the sun tipped the tops of the nearer forest with gold and crimson. Here Julie paused, overcome with the grandeur and beauty her young eyes beheld. She sat down and listened to the noise of the stream beneath, and she watched the birds skimming over the ravine. Then remembering her cake, she took it from her pocket and nibbled it daintily, for it was all the food she had, and she must make it last until she came to the old squaw's wig-wam, where, of course, she would be hospitably regaled. She pushed her daisy-wreathed hat from her head, and leaned against a pine-tree; the soft breeze fanned her hot little head, and played with her brown curls; she drew her knees up and clasped her hands about them, watching the sky change from one bright hue to another. The stream's voice was a lullaby, and slowly, softly fell the fringes of her eyelids; till the bright eyes were closed, and Julie was asleep.

She was so wearied and in so deep a slumber that the approaching stage-coach with its freight of tourists did not disturb her; and so eager was every one to see the famous view, that no one apparently noticed the little sleeping wayfarer, but behind the stage came in a more leisurely manner a private conveyance with only four occupants--a lady and gentleman and two children, all evidently foreigners. The elders were indeed occupied in gazing at the glorious picture Nature here displayed, but the eyes of the children were equally sensitive to smaller objects, and when they beheld a sleeping child, they at once drew the attention of their parents to this interesting incident.

The gentleman bade the driver halt, and assisted his pretty little wife from the carriage. She went hastily forward toward Julie, but as she neared her she stopped, clasped her hands, and turned toward her husband. Her face grew so white that he became alarmed, and asked,

"What is it, ma chère? Are you ill?"

"No, I am not ill; but look at this child--quick! Who is she like?"

The gentleman glanced at Julie, nodded his head, pulled his mustache, and said, briefly, "Yes, I see a resemblance."

"To whom, Max?--say, to whom?"

"To your poor little sister, Marie."

"Yes; is it not strange? Oh, how marvellously like Julie! I must waken her. Is she not lovely, the dear little creature, sleeping so innocently? Oh, Max, perhaps--perhaps--"

"Waken her, Marie. Ask her name."

The lady touched Julie gently, but the tired child slept too soundly for the light touch to arouse her, and it was not until she had kissed her on the cheek--the little red and brown cheek--that Julie opened her eyes. Then the lady gave a hysterical scream, not very loud, but enough to frighten Julie, whose eyes grew bigger and browner every moment.

"Oh, those eyes are Julie's!" said the lady.

"Of course they are, madame," replied Julie. "And are you the squaw?"

"Am I what? Is the child dreaming? What is your name, mon enfant?"

"My name is-- But why do you ask, madame? and where am I? Oh, I know: I am on my way to see the old Indian squaw who lives up here in the mountains, and it is getting late. I was very weary, and I fell asleep."

"Your name, my child--tell me your name, that I may know if you are Julie Garnier's child."

"Yes, madame, I am Julie Garnier." With that the little lady embraced her so warmly, and gave her so many kisses, that Julie strove to get away from her.

"Children," said the lady, "come here; this is your cousin, little Julie Garnier, whose mother is my dear sister, from whom I have long been separated. Max, we must take the child home."

"Where are you staying, little one?" asked the gentleman, in a heavy voice, which made Julie shrink toward the lady.

"I am staying with Quillie Coit at Mr. Brown's," was Julie's answer, for she dared not now urge her errand, and was much perplexed by all this agitation. The children were standing beside her, gazing curiously, but not unkindly; the little lady was wiping her eyes; the gentleman was holding a consultation with the driver. It ended by their all getting again into the vehicle, Madame Von Boden taking Julie in her arms, and pouring into her astonished ears sweet caressing words, in her own beloved language, about Julie's own dear mother; their home in France; her marriage to a Prussian; the marriage of Julie's mother to a Frenchman; the dreadful war; a separation; a long silence, in which they had heard nothing about Madame Garnier, who was so proud in her poverty; fears that she was dead; the certain knowledge that her husband, Julie's father, was really dead; and now this happy discovery. It was almost too much for Julie, coming as it did in the midst of her own strange adventure, and she could hardly believe it to be all true; but she submitted with a good grace, stifling her regret at not accomplishing her purpose, since this kind little aunt seemed to be so overjoyed. The driver knew where Mr. Brown lived, and just as Mr. Brown's tired horses were being harnessed, and nurse in weariful anxiety was listening to the comfort which Quillie was trying to whisper to her, this strange vehicle was heard coming down the lane. Every one rushed to the gate--Mr. and Mrs. Brown, the farm hands, the kitchen folk, nurse, and even Quillie in her night-gown; for there was Julie at last--poor tired little Julie--drooping, faint, and tearful.

No one scolded, not even nurse, who had been most sorely tried; and Madame Von Boden, with many mistakes in her use of English, and with much excitement, related her adventure. Of course it was considered wonderful, and the travellers were prevailed upon to remain at Mr. Brown's overnight.

You would not have supposed that following day, when all the children were having a good time in the barn--swinging, feeding the horses, gathering eggs, giving the hens a double supply of corn, and in every way making the most of a barn's generous resources--that one little maiden among them was a heroine of romance, a very tired little heroine, quite contented to watch the swallows and pigeons, and gaze at the far-away mountain-tops. But so it was, and so it often is; for, as the French say, "'tis the unexpected that happens;" and when Madame Garnier heard that her little Julie had found her aunt Marie, and that the little cousins were all housed under one roof, and having much happiness together, her own joy was great.

Julie promised faithfully never to undertake any more expeditions without the consent of her guardians, and she begged Quillie never to say anything more about the squaw; but Fred was allowed, by special grace, to call her Miss Van Winkle; for Fred had a funny way peculiar to himself which seldom excited wrath.

Later in the season, when Madame Garnier was able to join Julie, and Mr. and Mrs. Coit came up from the city, the Von Bodens gave a pretty _fête_ to all the children, and at the conclusion of it Quillie was invited to accompany Julie and her cousins, and spend the winter in Paris, which was so nice an opportunity for Quillie to acquire a good French accent that her father and mother felt obliged to accept.

Artie and Will had a great talk about this, and Fred said he wished Miss Van Winkle would just take another nap in the woods, to see what else might happen; possibly next time he would get an invitation from the Prince of Wales to go yachting.

But Miss Van Winkle took her naps at home after that, though she still thinks of the old squaw every time she looks at the moon.

THE END.

The following gratifying communication comes from the librarian of a large public library in Illinois:

May prosperity attend your most excellent YOUNG PEOPLE! I keep it on file in the reading-room, and it is pleasant to note the eagerness with which its pages are devoured by the boys and girls who daily throng our rooms. The paper is doing a noble work among them, not only in amusing them, but by giving them solid information upon a great variety of subjects in a most delightful way, thus giving them a taste for a class of reading almost always pronounced "dry" by the youngsters. It supplies a long-felt want in juvenile literature. Again I say, success to your noble enterprise!

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SUNDERLAND, VERMONT.

I am eleven years old, and I live in the country. Papa has a very large farm.

I have three sisters. The oldest is in Philadelphia at school. I am next to the oldest. My sister Annie and I have the care of the chickens and turkeys. We have doves which are so tame they will fly and alight on our hands to get corn. We had a little pet crow, but it died last night. We are going to get another one. We have wild strawberries. They are very plenty this year.

JENNIE G.

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THOMPSONVILLE, CONNECTICUT.

I take YOUNG PEOPLE. I think the engravings are so pretty. After I went to bed last night, I could hear the people down stairs talking. After a while papa began to read to mamma. I listened, and soon made out that he was reading from YOUNG PEOPLE about "The Boys and Uncle Josh." Papa laughed so that he had to stop reading several times. I am twelve years old.

MINNIE S.

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SWEETWATER, TENNESSEE.

I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much, and I read all the letters from the children. I have been going to school, but we have a vacation now. I am not as well read as S. Cassius E----, but I am a year younger. I have read some poems of Tennyson and other poets, and the whole of Goodrich's _History of Rome and Greece_. I have a crippled sister who has read a great deal, and she tries to make me read more, but I spend most of my leisure time in practicing music. I am learning to cook, and I am going to try some of the recipes sent to the cooking club. I am going to my grandma's soon, and I expect to have a nice time. She lives in a shady dell, and we call it "Dell Delight."

SUSAN M.

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CHAPEL HILL, GEORGIA.

I am a little boy eleven years old. My aunt in New York sends me YOUNG PEOPLE. I like the stories and the letter-box very much. I live twenty-five miles from the city of Atlanta. We have had whortleberries, plums, and mulberries this summer. I go to school, and I walk there every morning. It is a mile and a half away. I have but one pet, a dog named Rover. My sister Addie has three cats. One of them catches chickens, and my dog sucks eggs.

G. F. A. V.

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EAST CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS.

You can hardly imagine how much I like YOUNG PEOPLE, and how anxiously I wait till it comes. I have two canaries. Dick is yellow, and Bill is linnet green. Dick is tamer than Bill.

FRED L. Z.

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NEWPORT, KENTUCKY.

I am eight years old. I go to school, and am in the Second Reader. We have all the numbers of the YOUNG PEOPLE, and papa is going to have the first twenty-six bound. Mamma liked it so much that New-Year's she took it for my cousins.

When we lived in Illinois papa was Adams Express agent, and we had a horse named Adam. When my brother Charlie was four years old he went to Sunday-school, and once when the teacher asked the class who was the first man, Charlie yelled out, "Adams Express man!"

The first thing I read when my paper comes, are the little letters in the Post-office Box.

WILLIE W.

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NEW YORK CITY.

If any of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE have pet turtles, this is what they can feed them with: Mine eat flies, bugs, worms, and fish. One of mine is so small that a large three-cent piece would cover it. Bull-frogs will eat these same things too.

I think YOUNG PEOPLE is splendid. The story of "The Moral Pirates" is the best yet.

LYMAN C.

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SCHUYLERSVILLE, NEW YORK.

YOUNG PEOPLE is the best paper I ever saw. I like the story of "The Moral Pirates" best of all, and I hope it will be a long one. I have two brothers, both younger than I am. We do not go to school, but study at home. I would like to know whether you are going to have a binding for YOUNG PEOPLE. I read the letters in the Post-office Box over and over, and enjoy them very much. We raise a good many chickens, and I have lots of pet ones, all of which have names.

KEBLE D.

We have already stated in the Post-office Box that an ornamental cover will be ready when the first volume is concluded.

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NIAGARA FALLS, NEW YORK.

I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much, especially the story of "The Moral Pirates." I always read it the minute it comes from the post-office.

J. M. P.

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NEW YORK CITY.

I am twelve years old, and a constant reader of YOUNG PEOPLE. I am the boy who was buried under the snow, in the story called "Ned's Snow-House," in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 18. I was very much surprised when I read it, and it was some time before papa found out who wrote it. I was nine years old when it happened.

WARREN S. B.

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TAIOHAE, NUKAHIVA, MARQUESAS ISLANDS.

I am the only white girl in this place that can talk English. I have two brothers and one little sister. I am the eldest, and am nearly twelve years old. It is very wild out here. In one of these islands the people eat each other. There is no school here, and mamma teaches me my lessons. Papa gets HARPER'S WEEKLY, and YOUNG PEOPLE came with it. I send now to subscribe for it.

ISABELLA F. H.

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NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA.

I am seven years old, and I like YOUNG PEOPLE so much! I often go out to Spanish Fort, on Lake Pontchartrain. They have a pair of goats and a little carriage there that children can ride in for five cents a round trip.

I have a pet dog named Jack, and four pet chickens; and I had a little canary, but it got sick and died. My dog chases my chickens all day long, so that I have to whip him.

CHARLIE S.

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BUTTEVILLE, OREGON.

I live on the banks of the Willamette River. We are having lots of rain here now. I thought I would write and tell you how much I liked the story of "Across the Ocean." I liked "The Story of George Washington" too. I am eleven years old.

W. B.

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MEXIA, TEXAS.

I have had a present of a little canary, but it does not sing. The lady who gave it to me said it had been a beautiful singer, but it became sick. She gave it castor-oil, and it recovered, but has never sung since that time. The little bird has a nice cage, always fresh water for drinking and bathing, bird seed, fish-bone, and plenty of green leaves and grass. I wish some one could tell me how to make it sing again.

ADELE M.

It is not easy to restore song to a silent canary, and as you will see from a letter in this "Post-office Box," you are not the only one seeking a remedy for this trouble. The companionship of a singing-bird will sometimes arouse a canary to display its own musical talent. Your bird may be silent from overfeeding, as too much green food, like lettuce leaves, makes a bird grow fat and stupid, and less likely to sing. Try to place your bird near singing canaries for a few weeks, if you can, and if that does not affect it favorably, we fear nothing will.

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Cora R. Price and Mamie E. Evans both send the following legend of the forget-me-not, in answer to the inquiry of "A Constant Reader": Some flower seeds having been cast away by a traveller from a distant country, they fell by the edge of a lake. Some time afterward two lovers were wandering by the lake's side, and the lady, seeing the strange flowers, entreated her companion to gather some. As the gallant knight reached to pluck the blossoms, he fell in a quicksand, and was drawn into the treacherous pool, flinging the flowers at the maiden's feet, and crying, "Forget me not," as he disappeared forever.

Here is still another fanciful legend, sent by Ethel Sophia Mason: When Adam and Eve were driven from Eden, the flowers all shrank away from Eve with the exception of a little blue blossom, which Eve had named "heaven's flower," as its color was so much like the blue sky. As Eve passed, it seemed to murmur, "Forget me not," and she gratefully gathered it, saying, "Henceforth, dear flower, that shall be thy name." It was the only plant transplanted from Paradise, or that survived the flood. It is said to have the power of speaking at midnight, and telling the legend of its sweet name.

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TROY, NEW YORK.

I am very fond of natural history and botany. The other day I was out walking with my teacher, and I saw a caterpillar, or, as my little friend Ada says, a pillarcat! It had a black body, with a red stripe running along its back. I wish some one would tell me what kind it was. I would like "Wee Tot's" address.

LENA.

The address of "Wee Tot" was given with her letter in Post-office Box No. 26. Walter H. P., who wrote about caterpillars in Post-office Box No. 31, can perhaps tell you the name of the caterpillar, and what kind of butterfly or moth it produces, although you describe only its color. Had you stated its size, length, and other peculiarities, it would be easier to give you its name.

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CHICAGO, ILLINOIS.

I like to read YOUNG PEOPLE very much, but I like the pictures best of all. I have shown the paper to the boys in our neighborhood, and have got a good many of them to take it. I never drew any Wiggles before, but I like them. I am twelve years old, and I work for a dentist.

HENRY B. A.

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SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS.

I am very much interested in the Wiggles, and I read all the poetry in YOUNG PEOPLE. I like the Letter-box better than anything. I get my paper from the bookstore here. I wish you would tell me where I can buy a cannon, a real cannon, so I can shoot on the Fourth of July.

M. L. J.

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SAN BERNARDINO, CALIFORNIA.

I am twelve years old. I have a little dog and a big cat. They play together all the time. Sometimes when they are playing they get so tired that they lie down together and go to sleep. My sister had a wax doll. One day she left it on the table, and my dog got it, and tore off all its hair.

WILLARD H. H.

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PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA.

We have three cats. One is black and white, and it jumps into mamma's lap every time it comes into the room. And we have a dear little colt one month old. When the man puts it in the field it races all around, and seems to enjoy itself so much. I am nearly ten years old.

BERTHA E.

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SHERBURNE FOUR CORNERS, NEW YORK.

In YOUNG PEOPLE No. 32 a little girl asks for a recipe for bread. Here is one: For a small baking of bread take one medium-sized potato, boil it, and mash it fine; add a heaping table-spoonful of flour, and pour over it a tea-cupful of boiling water; let it stand until it is lukewarm, then stir in two table-spoonfuls of yeast--my mamma uses home-made--and set it in a warm place (not too warm) to rise. When it comes up light, add a cup of lukewarm water, a tea-spoonful of salt, and flour enough to make a batter. Let this rise, and then mix in flour until it is stiff: your mamma will tell you when it is right. You must let this rise again, and then make it into loaves, using as little dry flour as possible in this last process. If you wish to make biscuit, a little butter or lard improves it After the mixture is in the pan, you must let it rise again before putting it into the oven.

I was ten years old last Decoration-day. I have never made any bread yet, but mamma is going to let me try soon.

FANNIE H.

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I tried Nellie H.'s recipe for candy, and I think it is real nice. We have a large Newfoundland dog. He will carry a basket, and will catch a ball, and he will give you his paw. His name is Spot.

I will exchange pressed ferns with Emma Foltz in the fall.

MINTA HOLMAN, Leavenworth, Kansas.

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I am making a collection of bugs, and would like to exchange with little boys and girls in the West who take YOUNG PEOPLE. I have only collected a few bugs yet.

G. FRED KIMBERLY, Auburn, New York.

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CONCORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE.

Here is a recipe for very nice Graham bread for Puss Hunter. I make it very often for my papa, and he likes it better than any other bread. I am fourteen years old. Take one quart of lukewarm water, half a coffee-cup of yeast, two table-spoonfuls of lard, two table-spoonfuls of white sugar, one tea-spoonful of salt, one tea-spoonful of soda; melt the sugar and lard in the warm water; stir in very smoothly three pints of flour; then pour in the yeast and the soda. Beat it hard for a few minutes, and then put it in a warm place to rise. This is the sponge, and will take about eight hours, or all day, to rise. Then at night add two quarts of Graham meal and one cup of sugar, and, if it is too stiff, a little more warm water. Let this mixture rise overnight. In the morning stir it down with a spoon to get the air out, and put it in the pans. I let it rise in the pans about two hours before I put it in the oven. This recipe will make two good-sized loaves. Do all the mixing with a spoon, as it makes it sticky if you touch your hands to it. I wish Puss Hunter, if she tries it, would tell me if she has success.

ROSIE W. R.

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I am eleven years old. I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I have a flower garden of my own, and two pets--a canary named Phil, and a cat. My bird will not sing. Can any correspondent tell me what to do for it? My papa has a pet crow. It is very funny.

I would like to exchange pressed flowers with any little girl in the West.

DOTTY SEAMAN, Richmond, Staten Island, New York.

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I have been taking YOUNG PEOPLE from the first number, and I like it ever so much.

I have a little brother named Charlie, and he is a great favorite with everybody. He is very sharp for a little boy three years old. Last year we spent the summer in Cincinnati, and mamma took Charlie to the circus. When the procession came out he said, "Oh, mamma, look at the elephant, and the camel behind him!" Mamma thought he did not know what a camel was, so when they came around again mamma said, "There is the elephant, Charlie; and what is behind him now?" Charlie did not answer, so mamma asked him again. Then he looked up at her, and said, in a very droll tone, "His tail."

I am collecting stamps, and would gladly exchange with any readers of YOUNG PEOPLE. I am twelve years old.

HARRY STARR KEALHOFER, Memphis, Tennessee.

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If any birds' egg collector of California or the Western States will exchange eggs with me, I will be much pleased. I will send one dozen different kinds for as many of his. They are as follows: Chaffinch, quail, kingbird, crested jay, brown thrush, mocking-bird, sparrow, cat-bird, bluebird, peewee, swamp blackbird, wren. I will be obliged if any boy will send me his address, and a list of the varieties he is willing to exchange for mine.

HARRY ROBERTSON, P. O. Box 89, Danville, Virginia.

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WILLIE ATKINSON.--There are about 225 islands in the Feejee group, of which 140 are inhabited. Viti Levu is the largest and most populous, being 97 miles from east to west, and 64 from north to south. Next to this is Vanua Levu, which is 115 miles long, and about 25 miles wide. The whole group contains, exclusive of coral islets, an area of about 5500 square miles of dry land.

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GEORGE B.--The stamps you require are somewhat rare, but you may be able to obtain them by means of the exchanges offered by our young correspondents.

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LILY B., MABEL C. L., AND OTHERS.--Your puzzles are very skillfully made, but are rendered unavailable by their solutions, which are precisely the same as those of puzzles published in former numbers of the YOUNG PEOPLE. Correspondents by taking special notice of the fact, which we have already stated, that we can not repeat solutions, will save themselves from many disappointments.

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Favors are acknowledged from Penn W., D. Kopp, Charlie Heyl, Laura Bingham, Walter Willard, Lizzie Brewster, George B. McLaughlin, Louis D. Seaman.

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Correct answers to puzzles are received from Minnie Helen Ingham, "North Star," Caroline and Cornelia Frost, N. N., Leon C. Bogart, John B. Whitlock, "Dominus," George Volckhausen, N. L. Upham, James C. Smith, William A. Lewis, "Buttercup and Daisy," Mary C. Spaulding, Edward L. Hunt, Dorsey Coate, Herta and Arthur Paul, George W. Rothe, Leon M. Fobes, Alfred M. Cook, Willie and Georgie Francis, J. Bauer.

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PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

WORD CHANGES.

1. Black to white. 2. Rose to lily. 3. Beef to veal. 4. Lamb to wolf. 5. Sick to well. 6. Moon to star. 7. Town to city. 8. Hawk to bird. 9. Sew to rip. 10. Page to book.

ALLEN.

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No. 2.

ENIGMA.

My first is in shake, but not in shiver. My second is in lake, but not in river. My third is in sand, but not in dirt. My fourth is in band, but not in girt. My fifth is in ark, but not in ship. My sixth is in mud, but not in drip. My seventh is in arrow, but not in quiver. My whole is the name of a State and a river.

L. B. D.

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No. 3.

DIAMOND.

In farming. To place. A fruit. A boy's toy. In farming.

EDITH.

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No. 4.

NUMERICAL CHARADE.

I am a familiar proverb composed of 26 letters. My 9, 16, 22, 2, 6, 18, 20 is what most children like. My 13, 4, 5 is a measure. My 12, 24, 11, 21 is a certain time of day. My 26, 10, 1, 8 lives in wild forests. My 17, 3, 19, 25, 13 is a useful animal. My 23, 15, 7, 14, 22 is a Southern fruit.

JOSIE AND AUSTIN.

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No. 5.

WORD SQUARE.

My first on days of festival Clear, gay, and loud is heard; My second grudges others' good; To state a truth my third; And of my tuneful fourth of old A wild and wondrous tale was told.

INEZ.

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No. 6.

ENIGMA.

My first is in spider, not in fly. My second is in cloud, but not in sky. My third is in donkey, not in mule. My fourth is in guide, but not in rule. My fifth is in idle, not in busy. My sixth is in fainting, not in dizzy. My seventh is in ugly, not in sinner. My whole is part of a good dinner.

AGNES.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 33.

No. 1.

L B E T B L O O M L E O P A R D T O A D S M R S D

No. 2.

C R A M R O M E A M O S M E S H

No. 3.

A watch.

No. 4.

1. Hannibal. 2. A stitch in time saves nine. 3. Fine feathers do not make fine birds.

No. 5.

Athens, Greece.

No. 6.

W arsa W I de A L ol L L eve L I ndi A A rcti C M an E

William Wallace.

Double Acrostic Charade on page 472:

P ontia C O sceol A M ain E P ericle S E velin A Y ea R

Pompey, Cæsar.

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ELEMENTARY EDUCATION.

Books for the School and Family.

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ARITHMETIC.

FRENCH'S FIRST LESSONS IN NUMBERS. First Lessons in Numbers, in their Natural Order: First, _Visible Objects_; Second, _Concrete Numbers_; Third, _Abstract Numbers_. By JOHN H. FRENCH, LL.D. Illustrated. l6mo, Half Leather, 25 cents.

FRENCH'S ELEMENTARY ARITHMETIC FOR THE SLATE. Elementary Arithmetic for the Slate, in which Methods and Rules are based upon Principles established by Induction. By JOHN H. FRENCH, LL.D. Ill'd. l6mo, Half Leather, 37 cts.

FRENCH'S MENTAL ARITHMETIC. Mental Arithmetic, in which Combinations of Numbers, Solutions of Problems, and Principles of Arithmetical Analysis are based upon the Laws of Mental Development. By JOHN H. FRENCH, LL.D. Illustrated. l6mo, Half Leather, 36 cents.

NATURAL SCIENCE.

FIRST LESSONS IN NATURAL HISTORY AND LANGUAGE. Entertaining and Instructive Lessons in Natural History and Language for Primary and Grammar Schools. 12mo, Cloth, 35 cents.

THE CHILD'S BOOK OF NATURE. The Child's Book of Nature, for the Use of Families and Schools: intended to aid Mothers and Teachers in Training Children in the Observation of Nature. In Three Parts. Part I. Plants.