Chapter 3

I have said that the work which President Washington had to do was quite new to the country. The people had been used to having all their affairs attended to in their own States. None of the States was very large. Some of them were very small, compared with what the States are now, so that the public men in each were known by a greater part of the people than they now are. Then distance seemed greater than it does now. It took nearly as long to go from Boston to New York as it now does to go from Boston to California; there was no telegraph any more than there were railways and steam-boats, and news travelled as slowly as men did themselves. You can see that it was harder for people in Georgia or New Hampshire to know what was going on in New York than it is now for people in Oregon or Florida to know what is being done in Washington. Where there is ignorance there is always more distrust and doubt. Men found it not easy to give up public business to a Congress, far away, that they did not know much about. Washington set himself earnestly at work to try and have things done so carefully, so honestly, and so wisely, that the people would learn to trust the national government, and live happily under it.

The national government had been meant especially to do three things: First, to raise money and pay the debts of all the States; second, to see that the country was rightly dealt with by other countries, and that other countries were justly treated by our own; and third, in a general way to do for the common good what no one State could do by itself.

The government has now for nearly a hundred years done this work very well, and that fact is largely due to the way George Washington began it. He was President for eight years.

It would not be easy to tell all the things he did in that time which have had a good effect ever since, but it will be well to remember a few of the principal ones. He always insisted on the full and honest payment of the public debt, that is, of money borrowed by the government to carry on the war, and so forth. He believed that a nation must keep its word as much as a man must, if it expects other people to deal fairly with it.

In order that the government might pay its debts, it was necessary for it to get money from the people by taxes, and President Washington showed very early that no man or set of men were to be allowed to refuse to pay a fair share of these taxes, as fixed by law.

The people chose the Congress, and the Congress decided how the taxes should be paid. When that was done, there must be no further dispute about paying. If the people did not like the laws Congress made, they could elect men to Congress who would change the laws, but until the laws were changed in this way, they must be obeyed.

A large number of persons in the State of Pennsylvania refused to pay a tax ordered by Congress, called an excise tax, which was a certain sum on every barrel of whiskey made in the country. When Washington learned of this, he sent word to these people that if they did not obey the laws, he should have to compel them to; and as they took no notice of this warning, he got together an army of 16,000 men, and sent it into the State. This soon settled the trouble, and there has never been any attempt, on a large scale, to resist a tax law in the United States since then.

It is easy to see that Washington knew better than to do such a thing by halves. He sent so large an army that to fight against it was hopeless, and so there was no fighting.

It would have been well for the country if this wise example had always been followed.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

THE CHILD SINGER.

BY LAURA FITCH.

In a narrow dirty street in the most miserable part of the great city of London, a group of children were playing beside the gutter. They were all dirty and ragged, and the faces of many were old and worldly-wise. One little girl, however, though her dress was as torn and soiled as that of any of the other dwellers in the filthy street, had a pretty childish face. She was a bright-looking little one, with matted brown hair hanging in tangled curls that had never known a brush, and a pair of sweet dark eyes looking out trustfully into the uninviting world around her. She stood a little apart from the others, leaning against the doorway of a rickety tenement-house, humming softly to herself.

A rough-looking boy in the group by the gutter, hearing her low tones, called out, "Louder, Nell; sing something."

The child obeyed; with her hands clasped, and her eyes fastened on the speck of blue sky to be seen between the roofs of the tall, smoky houses, she burst into a song. No wonder that the other children stopped their noisy play, and listened. It was not their ignorance of music that made the singing seem beautiful to those little street vagabonds. There was in the clear voice of the child singer a strange, wistful tone, of which she herself was unconscious, but which held the listener spell-bound.

Nell had been born and bred in those low surroundings. She had never seen the inside of a church, or heard other music than the whining tones of a street organ, yet there was in her the very soul of music. She lived in a wretched garret, with a dirty, slouchy woman whom she called aunt, and loved as only a child or a woman can love one from whom she receives no sign of affection. Miserable as such a life was, it might have been worse.

One day Nell's aunt was brought home on a shutter; she had been run over by a carriage, and instantly killed.

Now Nell was indeed destitute; no money, and no friends but her rough neighbors. But these, though rough, were not hard-hearted; they would have given her money, but they had none themselves, except what they earned or stole each day. So they told her, if she wanted her aunt buried properly, she must go out at night and sing, in which way she would very likely earn enough, as people would pity so young a child.

So that night poor little Nell set out on her work of love. She walked till she reached the broad streets and handsome houses that form the London which the world knows. Here she sang. In the clear silent night the childish voice rang out, and the hour and the stillness made its wistful tones sound wild and weird. Up one street and down another the little figure went singing, while its heart seemed breaking. A strange excitement bore her up, and she felt no fatigue.

Her pathetic appeal was not in vain; it seemed to touch the hearts, and, what is more difficult, the pockets, of all who heard her. When midnight came, she thought of stopping only because most of the houses had closed for the night, and there was little more to be obtained. So she took her last stand in front of a fine old house in Kensington Square, in whose windows lights were still burning. It was the home of Barech, the great musician. As the tones of Nell's voice broke on the stillness of the night, he paused in the work he was doing, and after a moment rose and threw open the window. With amazement he saw the little childish figure standing in the light of the street lamp, and while his artist's ear drank in the wonderful tones with delight, his fatherly heart filled with pity for the desolate child. When Nell ceased, he called to her, and descending, opened the door and took her in.

From that moment Nell was no longer destitute, no longer friendless. In Barech she had found a friend who never deserted her. Captivated by her voice, he took the little waif into his heart and home, and thenceforth she was protected, cared for, and educated. And he was amply rewarded when, in after-years, the fame of Helen Barech spread over England. No one then ever dreamed that the great singer began her career years ago, one dark night, under the stars, a little outcast singing for money to bury her dead.

"HE'S MY FRIEND."--A TRUE STORY.

BY AUNT FANNY.

Charley was the son of a young, rich, and beautiful widow, who lived in one of the splendid up-town hotels of New York city. His mother was a very busy woman, for she was a manager of the "Children's Retreat," the "Children's Relief," the "Old Ladies' Mitigation Society," and ever so many other charities, and these took up so much of her time that her own poor little half-orphaned Charley was left pretty much to himself; for Lizzie, his nurse, spent most of her time laughing and talking with the other servants.

So Charley amused himself running up and down the stairs, and taking trips with the elevator man, who was very fond of the bright little fellow.

One day Charley wandered down the wide stairs, and along a corridor or hall. He was throwing up a little ball and catching it as he went. At the end of the hall he saw through an open door another flight of stairs, very narrow, and rather dark. It was the stairs for the servants' use.

"Hallo!" cried Charley, "here are some more stairs," and like the learned monkey that let nothing escape him on his travels, down the stairs went the boy on a voyage of discovery.

When he came to the bottom, which was far below the level of the street outside, he walked along to an open door, and saw something which dimpled his face all over with smiles; for, standing like a heron on one leg, leaning against the wall opposite the door, was _another boy_. He was twirling a little paper windmill fastened to a stick; his great black eyes were dancing with glee, and as he laughed he showed two rows of snow-white even teeth. At a stationary wash-tub was a big woman washing clothes, and singing softly to herself, "'Way down in ole Virginny."

Neither of them saw Charley, so, by way of introducing himself, he said, "Hallo, boy."

The woman turned quickly round, and exclaimed, "Why, honey, whar did yer come from?"

"I came down stairs; may I come in?" asked Charley, adding, quickly, "I want to play with that boy."

"Course you can; come right in," said the black woman, for she was nearly as black as ink, but there was a sweet, honest expression in her broad face, and a welcoming tone in her voice, which brought Charley quickly in, with a little laugh, to the side of the other boy.

And he--oh, how black he was! but as clean and neatly dressed as soap and water and nice clothes could make him, for Juliet, his mother, loved her little son, and she took good care that his manners were as nice as his clothes. He held out his hand to Charley, and, making a queer little bow, said, "How do you do, sir? I hope you are very well." Then he twisted one leg tighter than ever round the other, and gave a vigorous twirl to his paper windmill.

"Hey! I like that," said Charley. "Let _me_ try to do it."

"Oh yes," said the other, "but this is the best way--to hold it straight out, and run fast."

So Charley took the windmill, and both boys went scampering and galloping round the room, the windmill flying round famously, until the boys were quite out of breath.

"What's your name?" asked Charley, as they were resting together in a large old rocking-chair.

"George Washington Johnson. What's _your_ name?"' asked the black boy, in return, rocking the chair as hard as he could.

"My name is Charley Lee. I like you. Will you be my friend?"

"Oh yes; will you be mine?"

"Yes, and we'll play together every single day."

Just then Juliet went away with a great basket of clothes, to hang them up in a room where they were quickly dried by steam; and Charley, taking George's hand, said, "Come up stairs with me, and take a ride in the elevator."

What a blissful invitation for George! They tumbled up stairs in their delightful hurry, ran through the door into the broad hall, to the elevator, and the moment it appeared, Charley cried out,

"Oh, Mike, open the door; George wants to ride up and down with me; _he's my friend_."

"Oh, he's your friend, is he?" said Mike, puckering up his eyes at George Washington; "and a very pretty color he is, too. Well, step in, Snowball."

"His name isn't Snowball; it's George Washington," said Charley.

The elevator man laughed, and the two boys got closer together in a corner, pretending that it was a balloon, and they were sailing up and down in the air; and there they sat, in a state of perfect happiness.

The two boys never quarrelled. George had a sweet disposition, and was ready to do anything Charley proposed. They loved each other dearly, and many were the slices of bread and butter, spread thickly over with molasses, to which the two friends were treated by the good-natured washer-woman. They never sat down to eat them; oh no! they capered, and danced, and burst out laughing when they tumbled over a broomstick or a bench, and seemed to grow rosier and fatter every day. That is, Charley grew rosier, and George's smooth black skin grew shinier, which was the same thing--for him.

The little black boy was often permitted by his mother to go out toward Fourth Avenue, and run over one of the high arched bridges which covers the Fourth Avenue Railroad, and he did not think he was doing wrong when one day he asked Charley to go too.

"Oh yes, I will," he cried, in a great state of delight.

As soon as they arrived at the bridge, they began chasing each other over it; and then Charley said:

"Oh, George, let's play that we are travellers, hunting for a whale. I heard my mamma talking about one that was on ex-ex-exedition down by the river. She said that it was 'most a mile long."

"Goody!" cried George. "What a mons'ous whale!"

So the boys ran down the street toward the East River a long, long way, and presently they got to some rocks, upon the top of which were a number of miserable wooden houses called shanties.

Geese, pigs, chickens, and a forlorn, starved-looking dog were poking about for something to eat. Near by was a great heap of coal ashes. Some bad-looking boys were raking the ashes up into a sort of mound on top of the heap; but a moment after, they ran away to see an organ-grinder and a monkey which had come upon the rocks. Charley and George would have run too, had not their ears caught the sound of a stifled piteous mewing, which seemed to issue out of the very middle of the ash heap.

"What's that?" asked both boys at once.

"Mew! me--ew!" came again from the ashes.

"It's a cat!" exclaimed Charley; "and it is inside of those ashes. I do believe those boys thought it was dead, and buried it. Let's hurry and dig it out."

Charley and George worked hard, but they had nothing but their hands to work with, and they threw the ashes all over their clothes; but the piteous mewing came quicker and louder, and in a few moments the gray head of a live kitten popped out of the ashes; then two gray paws, and soon the whole kitten was liberated.

"Oh, you poor little thing!" said Charley, trying with soft pats to get the ashes out of its fur, while George took out of his pocket a queer little pocket-handkerchief, six inches square, with A B C all round the edge, and a portrait of his great namesake in the middle, and said, in a tender tone, "Here, poor kitty, let me wipe your nose; don't cry any more;" and he wiped it so softly that it really seemed to comfort the afflicted little creature.

"Let's run home with it," said Charley.

"And give it some milk," said George.

"And wash it clean," said Charley.

"And dry it in the steam-room," said George.

No sooner said than done. Charley carried the kitten one block, and then George the next, and so on in turn, until at last they got back to the hotel, and rushed down into the laundry, where Juliet was beginning to feel worried at their long absence.

"La sakes!" she cried, when she saw the plight they were in, "whar have you ben gone? Why, you look jes like ole Bobby de ash-man. Whar you get dat ar cat? Why, George Washington! you's a disgrace to your raisin'! How you spec' I'se gwine' to make you look genteel if you cum home dat ar way?"

"Oh," said George, rolling his eyes at his mother--"oh, we've had such s'prising 'wenters; we went to see a whale."

"Whale! is dat what you call a whale?" said Juliet, pointing to the poor little kitten, which he was hugging tight to his breast.

Then Charley spoke up, and when Juliet had heard of the "surprising adventures," she was sorry she had been the least bit cross with the kind-hearted little fellows. To make up for it, she gave the kitten a saucer of warm milk, and taking off the soiled clothes of the boys, and washing their faces and hands, she put two funny little night-gowns upon them, and popped them into her bed, which was in a little room next to the laundry. Then she caught up their clothes--for there was no time to be lost--and popped _them_ into a tub of hot water, with plenty of soap, and in ten minutes they were just as clean as soap, water, and hard rubbing could make them.

Then she wrung them out with a will, shook them out with a flourish, and running into the steam-room, hung them upon a horse--a clothes-horse, of course. In ten minutes more they were dry enough to iron, and she polished them with the hot and heavy irons at such a rate that they fairly shone, and she shone too.

When the boys were called, and Juliet put on their clothes again, they looked cleaner, brighter, and happier than ever.

The kitten was adopted as a friend too, and had soon shook and licked itself clean, and it lived a very comfortable life down in the laundry.

One day, for a wonder, Charley's mother staid at home. She was expecting a call from her lawyer, Judge Spencer, upon some business. When he came he had a long talk with Charley.

Presently Charley said: "I want to tell you something. I've a friend; his name is George."

"Only one friend?" asked the Judge, laughing.

"But he's my 'tic'lar friend," explained Charley. "May I bring him to see you? He's real nice."

"Does he live in the hotel?" asked Charley's mother, who had never heard of him.

"Oh yes," replied Charley, "and he and I have a _love-aly_ kitten--we take care of it."

"Well, bring him in--the kitten too," said the good Judge; "that is, if your mother consents."

"Oh, certainly," said Mrs. Lee.

So Charley rushed down the narrow stairs, and found George playing with the kitten, and looking as neat and clean as a new pin.

"Come, George, come up with me to mamma's parlor. Judge Spencer is there; he wants to see you, and the kitten too."

They went up stairs, and softly opening the door of the parlor, and holding George's hand tightly, Charley walked quickly up to the Judge and said, "Here's my friend; he can't help being black!"

For one moment astonishment kept Charley's mamma and the Judge silent. Then the good man held out his hand to the black boy, and taking Charley on his knee kissed him tenderly. That warm, loving kiss told Charley that the Judge understood it all. His face grew radiant, his eyes rested affectionately on his friend, and then he leaned toward George, and put the beloved kitten in his arms. "You hold it now," he said.

With a cautionary wave of his hand, the Judge prevented Mrs. Lee from reproving Charley for his choice of a friend; then he sent them into the next room, and had a long talk with the widow, the result of which was that, after inquiring about George, and finding how good his "raisin'" was, as Juliet called it, Charley was still permitted to play with him. And to this very day (for all this has happened within a few months) if you ask Charley Lee who George Washington Johnson is, he will answer at once, "_He's my friend._"

THE SOLEMN OLD LADY.

BY W. L. PETERS.

There was once a wee boy With an excellent face. Who was seen every Sunday At church in his place; And there this wee boy was accustomed to stare At a solemn old lady with lavender hair, Who used to sit opposite to him.

But when the long service Was over at last, He would wait at the Vestibule door till she passed; And then she would stop on her way from the pew, And propound a conundrum, which he never knew, For she asked him the "drift of the sermon."

By-and-by, when the little boy's Manhood came round, The whole world an unanswered Conundrum he found. And he can no more answer it now, I declare, Than he could the old lady with lavender hair, Who used to sit opposite to him.

SMITH'S HILL, CALIFORNIA.

I live on the east branch of Feather River, in California. I go to school in a school-house made of logs. The scholars are all Germans and Indians. Swallows generally come here in February, but this year we did not see any till the 9th of March. I saw a picture of the snow-flower in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 7. It grows on the hills near my home, and blooms in June. Lupin and larkspur and many other flowers also grow here. I am seven years old.

LOU R. K.

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DOWNIEVILLE, CALIFORNIA.

I am twelve years old, and I live in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, about four thousand feet above the sea-level, with my aunt and uncle. The snow is two feet and a half deep (April 11), and I can not look for willow "pussies" myself, but this afternoon my uncle was out over the snow, and he found some, which I send you. These are the first I have ever seen. A few days ago there was a flock of robins in our back yard, and they went skipping and hopping about quite happy. I have a pigeon, and his name is Bob. When I hold out my hand to him with wheat in it, he will come and eat, and when he has eaten all the wheat, he will turn around and fight me. Can you tell me why the 1st of April is called All-fools' Day?

MARY A. R.

The origin of April-fools' Day is unknown. If you have YOUNG PEOPLE No. 18, read the answer to Zella T., in the Post-office Box.

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COLFAX, CALIFORNIA.

My uncle subscribed to YOUNG PEOPLE for a New-Year's present to me, and I do not believe he could have found a paper I would have liked better if he had hunted all over the United States. But I can not enjoy it alone, so when I get all through reading it, I send it to a little friend. I only moved to California eight months ago. I have twenty-two real dolls, and every one has a change of under-clothing and several dresses. I have one hundred and ten paper dolls. They all have names, and a history, which I know by heart. I send you some pressed California flowers and fern. I am twelve years old.

JEANNIE K. P.

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WOBURN, MASSACHUSETTS.

I am ten years old. I have no pets now, but I had a Newfoundland dog named Nero, and a pussy named Major. On the 14th of April I was in the woods, and I found two buttercups. They were the first wild flowers I have seen this year.

CLARENCE E. L.

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I live in Upper Sandusky, Ohio, on the banks of the Sandusky River. This is a very historical country. It was named after a tribe of Indians called the Wyandottes, who burned Colonel Crawford at the stake on the 11th of June, 1782. In the southern part of this town is a tree called the "Big Sycamore." It is sixteen feet in diameter, and about one hundred and fifty feet high. It has several limbs that are from five to eight feet in diameter. I have some pet ducks I think a great deal of, and a sheep named Dick, that follows me everywhere.

WILLIE B. G.

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SYRACUSE, NEW YORK.

We have three little canary-birds. They can feed themselves, and mamma has put them in another cage. Their names are Yellowtop, Sport, and Baby. The mother bird has made a new nest, and this morning she has two eggs in it. If Daisy Balch will softly stroke her bird through the wires of the cage every evening at dusk, he will soon allow her to put her finger inside the cage, and will peck at a little sugar on the end of her finger, and will no doubt perch on it. All this will need patience. I like the "Tar Baby" story so much, and "Mother Goose's May Party."

ETHEL.

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NIAGARA FALLS, NEW YORK.

I live on the Niagara River, three miles and a half above the falls. I go to school at Niagara Falls village, and have walked nearly all winter in all kinds of weather, although it is nearly four miles. I have a little wild rabbit--black, white, and brown. I had two, but the other ran away. We have a white cat and kitten. The cat came to us nine years ago, when it was a little bit of a thing. It stands on its hind-legs when it wants something to eat, and never scratches. We have a water-spaniel named Music. He does not like to hear any one play the piano in a minor key.

F. T.

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NORWICH, CONNECTICUT.

I am ten years old. I like to read YOUNG PEOPLE. The Post-office Box letters are nice. Katie R. P. says she collects insects. So does my papa. He puts lumps of cyanide of potassium, bought at the druggist's, in a bottle, and mixes plaster of Paris with water until it is like dough, and then pours it over the potassium. When it dries, the bottle is ready for use. Five cents' worth lasts a season, and is cheaper than ether, papa says, and works better. When the butterflies are dead, he spreads them on a board to dry, spreading their wings carefully and evenly, and holding them in place with pins. Papa has butterflies all the way from China. He has as many as five hundred kinds. He raises them just as people do chickens, right from the egg. He calls the worms his pets--great green ones. I get food for them. They eat lots. He calls worms larvæ, which he says means baby butterflies.

That butterfly Bessie F. had was the Danais, papa thinks. Butterflies are all foreigners, and have queer names I don't understand. The worm of the Danais is found on milkweed, papa tells me. It does not spin a cocoon, but forms a chrysalis--a handsome green sack that looks like an ear-drop, with gold and black spots on it.

WALTER H. P.

It is scarcely safe to recommend the handling of cyanide of potassium, in any form whatever, to our young readers, as it is one of the most terrible of poisons, and works much mischief and suffering by merely coming in contact with a slight cut on the finger.

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GREENSBURG, KENTUCKY.

I live on the top of a cliff almost two hundred feet high. The scenery is beautiful. You can see for a distance of twenty miles in almost every direction. There is an old field on our farm in which papa thinks the Indians fought a battle, because there are so many flint arrow-heads there. My brother and I are saving them, because we like to have them in our room.

I caught seven woodchucks with my dog. I am fourteen years old, and own a horse of my own. I bought her about two years ago. I have a goat that I work in a wagon I made myself. In autumn and winter I go to school, and in spring and summer I work on the farm, which I like pretty well. There are several caves on our farm. In one of them I have been in over a hundred yards. I like to read all of the letters in YOUNG PEOPLE'S Post-office Department.

JOHN H. B.

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JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY.

I have been intending to write to the Post-office Box ever since I began to take YOUNG PEOPLE, which papa gave me for a Christmas present. I have a pet cat, which I call Fluff, after the kitty I read about in the Christmas number. My Fluff is very much like that kitty, only she never went to church in her owner's muff.

MATTIE J.

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PONTOTOC, MISSISSIPPI.

I see most of your little correspondents live in the far North and West, and I thought you might like to hear from a little Southern girl, who likes YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I am nine years old. I have no sister, and but one brother. My papa is a doctor, and is often from home; so when Buddie and I are at school, mamma is alone. I love to go to school. I have two cats--Muldrow and Dumpie. I will write about our beautiful birds next time.

D. R. H.

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RIDLEY PARK, PENNSYLVANIA.

I am trying to collect a cabinet of curiosities, and have quite a lot of things already. I have pieces of celebrated foreign buildings, English street-car tickets, Lake George diamonds, the rattle of a rattle-snake, and other things.

I think the "Letter from a Land Turtle" is very interesting. I had a young water turtle that I could cover with a two-cent piece. I saw a very funny ants' bed the other day. It was an oyster shell, with the edges all covered with sand, except on one place, where the ants went in. I think it must have been a very cozy house. Will you please tell me something about the habits of ants?

C. B. F.

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AUBURN, NEW YORK.

I have no pets, but we have a nice flower garden. One of the boy correspondents of YOUNG PEOPLE asked if we had ever seen a tarantula, or California spider. We have one five or six inches long, preserved in alcohol. My uncle sent it to us from Nevada. He says the webs are so strong that people use them for thread.

BERTIE S.

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I would like to exchange pressed wild flowers with some little girl living in the East. I would like some small bouquets for a scrap-book. We have a great variety of beautiful wild flowers here. I have one sister and two brothers. My pet is a sheep. She will leave the herd to come to me. She eats bread, and tobacco too, when the shepherd gives it to her. Her name is Susie.

MABEL SHARP, Buchanan, Fresno County, California.

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NEW YORK CITY.

I am a great admirer of Shakspeare. I have just finished reading _Macbeth_. I have seen Edwin Booth play Hamlet. My mother has read aloud to me _King Richard III_. and many others of these plays. I am also very fond of history. I first read _Peter Parley's Universal History_, next Dickens's _Child's History of England_, and since many other books of historical tales. I am now reading Guizot's _Popular History of France_. There are six large volumes, and I have finished the third volume to-day.

I think you will be interested to hear about my Bible. It is the elegant "Illuminated Bible" which was "published by Harper & Brothers, 82 Cliff Street," just before the fire, which destroyed all the plates of "sixteen hundred historical engravings." I read in it every Sunday, and almost every morning. I have read the Old Testament in course to the end of Chronicles, and I am pretty familiar with the rest of the Bible.

I was paralyzed when I was sixteen months old, and have not the use of my right hand. As yet I can not write well with my left. I am twelve years old.

S. CASSIUS E.

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JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY.

My sister Gertie and I had each a small turtle. They were kept in a glass globe in the house all winter, and about a week ago we put them out in the yard in a large pan. To-day, when I went out to see them, mine was dead. Can anyone tell me what was the matter with it? They both had plenty of raw meat and earth-worms. The water was changed every day, and there were large stones for them to crawl up upon. We put the other turtle back in the glass globe in the house.

MAMIE E.

Turtles prefer to bury themselves in the mud, and sleep all winter. Perhaps had you allowed your turtle to follow its natural instincts, it would not have died.

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PROVINCETOWN, MASSACHUSETTS.

I am seven years old. I want to tell all the boys who read YOUNG PEOPLE that I live where they catch those big whales. My uncle goes in a vessel after them. He has killed nine this spring. The largest one was over sixty feet long, and made fifty barrels of oil. They shoot the whales with a bomb-lance.

FREDDIE R. A.

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BENTON, ILLINOIS.

I take YOUNG PEOPLE, and I think it is a very interesting paper. I am living in Benton now, and very soon I will have a little dog, a lamb, and a pig. Some of you that live up North will think a pig is a very strange pet; and yet when you think that the pig is white and clean, then perhaps you would like him better. Perhaps I shall have a canary-bird and a kitten, but I am not sure. To-morrow I am going to see somebody weave a carpet. I have to study history and French every day except Saturday and Sunday. I like to study them when they are easy enough.

LILIAN MCD.

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JANESVILLE, WISCONSIN.

I found hepaticas on the 7th of April, and anemones a little later. Violets, shooting-stars, Solomon's-seal, wild geranium, and jack-in-the-pulpit are in blossom now (May 14), as well as other wild flowers. I have seen woodpeckers, orioles, lots of robins and blue jays, brown thrushes, and bluebirds. When I was going out in the yard this morning I saw several chipmunks.

ALICE C. L.

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PROSPERITY, SOUTH CAROLINA.

I live down in "Dear old South Carolina." We have a nice flower garden, and there are plenty of flowers in blossom already. It has been very warm this winter. I did not start to wearing shoes till nearly Christmas, and I pulled them off again on my birthday, which was the 4th of March.

My father is an editor, and we get a great many papers to read. I am very much interested in "Across the Ocean." I used to live up in the snow, on the banks of the Potomac.

J. W. H.

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BALTIMORE, MARYLAND.

I live in the city, but I have got some chickens, and am very much interested in them. I have raised some; but there is an old cat that has eaten eleven of them, and I can not kill her. I have pigeons too, and have raised a good many. I read a letter in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 13 from a little boy who hatched a chicken by putting the egg in ashes. I wish he would tell me how he kept the egg warm.

HENRY W.

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BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

I have tried Nellie H.'s recipe for sugar candy, and I found it very nice indeed. I intend to try Puss Hunter's recipe for cake, and I will let her know my success.

CHRISTABEL V.

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ELMIRA, NEW YORK.

Here is a recipe for chocolate caramels for the cooking club: One cup and a half of sugar; one cup of grated chocolate; one cup of milk; one cup of molasses; a piece of butter the size of an egg; one tea-spoonful of vanilla. Let the mixture boil twenty minutes, and then pour it in buttered tins to cool.

FANNY S.

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FORT UNION, NEW MEXICO.

I am nine years old. I do not go to school, but I study at home, and I can write pretty well. I tried the recipe that Nellie H. sent, and it was very nice. I tried it several times. I had a canary once, but it died, and papa buried it under a tree.

MARGARET R. MACN.

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Fannie A. Hartwell and Bertha C. M. send recipes for doll's cup-cake for Puss Hunter's cooking club, but as they are almost the same as the one from Bessie L. S., printed in Post-office Box No. 28, we do not repeat them. The domestic inclinations of these little housekeepers of the future are very pleasing, and we hope other little girls will send recipes for the cooking club, which should certainly be encouraged.

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GENEVA LAKE, WISCONSIN.

I will be ten years old in July. I take YOUNG PEOPLE, and I think there never was such a nice little paper. We have live cherry-trees, and they are all in bloom (May 7). We live near the lake, and my little brother and I play on the shore almost every day. They are launching two large steamers to-day. Papa, mamma, and I went out fishing not long ago; we did not catch even one fish, but we enjoyed the sail very much. I am going to the woods to-morrow, and will send "Wee Tot" some wild flowers. I have a pet kitty and a little Skye terrier, and every one likes to see them play together.

FRANKIE P.

I am eleven years old. I take HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, and I like the Post-office Box best of all. I have two pet pigeons. They are very tame, and fly to me when I go out; I never feed them except out of my hands. I would like to exchange pressed flowers with any little girl.

FANNY LAWRENCE, Dedham, Massachusetts.

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I have about five hundred specimens and curiosities of different kinds which I would like to exchange with any correspondents of YOUNG PEOPLE. I myself have a cabinet of about one thousand specimens. Letters or packages may be addressed to

FRANKLIN J. KAUFMAN, 40 Butternut Street, Syracuse, New York.

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BUCHANAN, CALIFORNIA.

I am ten years old. My father takes YOUNG PEOPLE for me, and I enjoy it very much. I save all my money to buy Du Chaillu's books. I have three now, and mean to get them all. Will you please tell me if Du Chaillu is alive yet? I hope he is, and is making some more books for us boys. I have a pet horned owl. He snaps his bill and hisses at me.

EUGENE S.

Mr. Du Chaillu is alive, and in excellent health. You will be pleased to know, also, that he is hard at work on new books, which promise to be of even greater interest than those already published.

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A. H. ELLARD.--See answer to B., Post-office Box No. 23.

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S. A. S.--Rabbits eat cabbage, clover, cracker and milk, and almost all kinds of vegetables, herbage, or grain. Do not give them parsley, as it is said to be poisonous to them.

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PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

ENIGMA.

My first is in bloom, but not in fade. My second is in shadow, but not in shade. My third is in gloomy, but not in grave. My fourth is in valiant, but not in brave. My fifth is in anvil, but not in forge. My sixth is in chasm, but not in gorge. My seventh is in tares, but not in weeds. My whole was a man of noble deeds.

LOTTIE.

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No. 2.

GEOGRAPHICAL HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.

A city in Spain. A city in France. A sea of the Eastern Continent traversed by many ships. In Russia. A famous mountain of Asia Minor. A city in Belgium. A city in Spain. Centrals read downward spell the name of a city in Germany.

C. P. T.

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No. 3.

DIAMOND PUZZLE.

In combine. A boy's name. Jovial. Barren. In gipsy.

JOHNNY R. G.

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No. 4.

WORD SQUARE.

First, endure. Second, imagination. Third, precious. Fourth, a title.

PIERRE.

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No. 5.

ENIGMA.

My first is in rat, but not in mouse. My second is in pheasant, but not in grouse. My third is in limp, but not in stiff. My fourth is in smoke, but not in whiff. My fifth is in waistcoat, but not in vest. My sixth is in eager, but not in zest. My seventh is in high, but not in low. My whole was a courtier of long ago, An author who travelled in foreign lands, And died at last by cruel hands.

NORTH STAR.

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No. 6.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

Silent. A man's name. A beloved relative. An empire. An ancient Greek author. Answer--Two celebrated authors.

HARRY M.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 28.

No. 1.

L R I P L I L A C P A D C

No. 2.

N ante S O czako W R om E W exfor D A licant E Y ucata N

Norway, Sweden.

No. 3.

Cabbage-rose.

No. 4.

Make hay while the sun shines.

No. 5.

Mayflower.

No. 6.

Noon.

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A Personation, on page 392--Shakspeare.

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Favors are acknowledged from Samuel H. Manning, Grace N. Whiting, H. E. Stout, C. W. Lisk, C. Bingham, Adella Titus, Lottie Noble, N. E. Portlock, Howard E. Meiller, W. T. Sears, Dotty Seaman, Josie L. Moore, G. C. Meyer, Charlie Stewart, Lena B.

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Correct answers to puzzles are received from Charles Spier, Cora Frost, Paul Beardsley, J. R. Blake, William and Mary Tiddy, Edward May, Willie Draper, John McClintock, Bennie Lynch, Eva L. Pearson, George W. Hambridge, J. S. Peabody, Willie F. Dix, Eddie A. Leet, Mattie Jameson, C. Steele, Hattie Norris, Bert J., Mary E. DeWitt, "A School-Boy," Minnie H. Ingham, Louisa Gates, George Schilling, S. Cassius Ensworth, G. Dudley Kyte, Rebecca Hedges, Bessie Eaton, Violet, Fanny S., S. A. Hibbs, Ada B. Vouté, Leon M. Fobes, Alice Dudley, George H. Radley, H. G. B., C. D. P., Jimmie B. Tallman, Helen W. Dean, Louisa J. Gray, Albert E. Seibert.

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Subscriptions may begin with any Number. When no time is specified, it will be understood that the subscriber desires to commence with the Number issued after the receipt of order.

Remittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY ORDER or DRAFT, to avoid risk of loss.

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The extent and character of the circulation of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE will render it a first-class medium for advertising. A limited number of approved advertisements will be inserted on two inside pages at 75 cents per line.

Address HARPER & BROTHERS, Franklin Square, N. Y.

FISHING OUTFITS.

CATALOGUE FREE.

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OUR CHILDREN'S SONGS.

* * * * *

Our Children's Songs. Illustrated. 8vo, Ornamental Cover, $1.00.

* * * * *

Songs for the nursery, songs for childhood, for girlhood, boyhood, and sacred songs--the whole melody of childhood and youth bound in one cover. Full of lovely pictures; sweet mother and baby faces; charming bits of scenery, and the dear old Bible story-telling pictures.--_Churchman_, N. Y.

The best compilation of songs for the children that we have ever seen.--_New Bedford Mercury._

This is a large collection of songs for the nursery, for childhood, for boys and for girls, and sacred songs for all. The range of subjects is a wide one, and the book is handsomely illustrated.--_Philadelphia Ledger._

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

HARPER & BROTHERS _will send the above work by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price_.

CHILDREN'S

PICTURE-BOOKS.

Square 4to, about 800 pages each, beautifully printed on Tinted Paper, embellished with many Illustrations, bound in Cloth, $1.50 per volume.

The Children's Picture-Book of Sagacity of Animals.

With Sixty Illustrations by HARRISON WEIR.

The Children's Bible Picture-Book.

With Eighty Illustrations, from Designs by STEINLE, OVERBECK, VEIT, SCHNORR, &c.

The Children's Picture Fable-Book.

Containing One Hundred and Sixty Fables. With Sixty Illustrations by HARRISON WEIR.

The Children's Picture-Book of Birds.

With Sixty-one Illustrations by W. HARVEY.

The Children's Picture-Book of Quadrupeds and other Mammalia.

With Sixty-one Illustrations by W. HARVEY.

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price._

Old Books for Young Readers.

* * * * *

Arabian Nights' Entertainments.

The Thousand and One Nights; or, The Arabian Nights' Entertainments. Translated and Arranged for Family Reading, with Explanatory Notes, by E. W. LANE. 600 Illustrations by Harvey. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $3.50.

Robinson Crusoe.

The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York, Mariner. By DANIEL DEFOE. With a Biographical Account of Defoe. Illustrated by Adams. Complete Edition. 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.

The Swiss Family Robinson.

The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures of a Father and Mother and Four Sons on a Desert Island. Illustrated. 2 vols., 18mo, Cloth, $1.50.

The Swiss Family Robinson--Continued: being a Sequel to the Foregoing. 2 vols., 18mo, Cloth, $1.50.

Sandford and Merton.

The History of Sandford and Merton. By THOMAS DAY. 18mo, Half Bound, 75 cents.

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Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price._

* * * * *

=A Good Samaritan who would not tell his Name.=--Oberlin, the well-known philanthropist of Steinthal, while yet a candidate for the ministry, was travelling on one occasion from Strasburg. It was in the winter-time. The ground was deeply covered with snow, and the roads were almost impassable. He had reached the middle of his journey, and was among the mountains, but by that time was so exhausted that he could stand up no longer. He was rapidly freezing to death. Sleep began to overcome him; all power to resist it left him. He commended himself to God, and yielded to what he felt to be the sleep of death. He knew not how long he slept, but suddenly became conscious of some one rousing him and waking him up. Before him stood a wagon-driver in his blue blouse, the wagon being not far away. He gave him a little wine and food, and warmth returned. He then helped him into the wagon, and brought him to the next village. The rescued man was profuse in his thanks, and offered money, which his benefactor refused. "It is only a duty to help one another," said the wagoner, "and it is the next thing to an insult to offer a reward for such a service." "Then," replied Oberlin, "at least tell me your name, that I may have you in thankful remembrance before God." "I see," said the wagoner, "that you are a minister of the Gospel: please tell me the name of the Good Samaritan." "That," said Oberlin, "I can not do, for it was not put on record." "Then," replied the wagoner, "until you can tell me his name, permit me to withhold mine." Soon he had driven out of sight, and Oberlin never saw him again.

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=Earthquakes in Chili.=--In some parts of South America men keep their "earthquake coats," which are dresses that can be put on instantaneously, with a view to a speedy exit from the house. The advisability of such a practice may be inferred from the picture of one of the features of life in Chili which is set forth in the following extract from a letter of a young Englishman, who settled at Valparaiso a few years ago. Under date of November 16 he writes: "I am in a most nervous state on account of having had three days and nights of successive earthquakes--fearful ones. The first night I walked the streets, and indeed every one else did the same; the second night I went to bed quite exhausted at about 3 A.M.; last night also at about 2 A.M., but I could not sleep, for we had about six shocks, though not so strong. The whole cornice of a house close to ours came down into the street, but luckily no one was passing at the time. The women rush into the street in their night dresses, screaming like lunatics, and one trembles from head to foot. I was crossing our street when the strongest shock came, and I was transfixed with fright, for the road was going up and down like waves. My hand even now shakes, for at any moment we may have another, and how strong it may be no one can tell. I can assure you I am afraid to take off my clothes. The large squares have been filled for the last three nights with beds and people wrapped up in blankets."

SOLUTION OF THE PASHA PUZZLE.

This is the solution of the Pasha Puzzle given on page 424 of YOUNG PEOPLE No. 30. The puzzle was to make Hobart Pasha by combining a fort, two sabres, two British gun-boats, two bayonets, a bomb-shell, and three birds; and here you have an accurate (?) likeness of the fire-eating Turk.

CHARADE

My first is solemn and sedate, Or ought to be, that's certain; But sometimes, owing to the state Of human passions, or to fate, It is a scene of fierce debate And wrath; but ere it is too late I'll stop, and draw the curtain.

My second visits many lands, In bright and stormy weather; 'Tis fair to see across the sands, Though never quite at rest it stands; One mind alone its course commands; Within are many hearts and hands Most strangely met together.

My whole is thought a happy time, Its praise is often sounded; 'Tis told in books, 'tis sung in rhyme, In every age and every clime; Of youth and manhood 'tis the prime, Except when on the sordid grime Of avarice 'tis founded.

Here is a picture of two dogs ready for a fight. With one straight cut of the scissors transform it into the illustration of an old fable.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, June 1, 1880, by Various