Chapter 2

their wont. Elias and John were peacefully skinning their woodchucks in the shed. Philemon had been sent back to his chamber (as he was every morning of his life) to brush his back hair. There was nothing to suggest the storm which was to break over Romeo Augustus, who stood by the kitchen stove watching the cook fry fritters.

"Fizz, fiz-z-z, fiz-z-z," hissed the fritters.

"_Aren't_ they going to be good!" said Romeo Augustus, smacking his lips.

Suddenly came a voice. It was Romeo Augustus's father speaking to the man-servant:

"Those little pigs are large enough to be killed. How many are there? Never mind. Carry them all to market to-morrow, and sell them for what they will bring. I don't want the trouble of raising them."

Romeo Augustus listened in horror. "Large enough to be killed?" "Carry them all to market?" "_All?_ ALL?" Why, that included Mephibosheth. Terrible thought!

Not a fritter did Romeo Augustus eat that morning. After breakfast he roamed aimlessly about the farm. He would not go near the barn. How could he look upon poor doomed Mephibosheth?

Once he thought of going to his father, and pleading with him for his pig's life. But Romeo Augustus was shy, and somewhat afraid of his father, who was a stern man. So he kept his grief to himself, and meditated.

Elias unconsciously deserted him at this time of need, and curdled Romeo Augustus's blood by asking twice for pork at dinner. Ask for pork? Why, speaking coarsely, Mephibosheth was also--_pork_. How could any one eat pork with such a relish? Romeo Augustus shivered, and kept his own counsel. All that afternoon he pondered. Then the darkness of night came on.

The next morning off started the man-servant with his load of little pigs.

"Have you all?" asked Romeo Augustus's father.

"I would ha' swore, sir, there was thirteen, but it seems there was only twilve. Yes, sir, I has 'em all;" and away he drove.

As for Romeo Augustus, a change came over him. Far from shunning the barn, he hung about it constantly. Moreover, he was always present when the cows were milked, morning and night. He had a playful trick of dipping his own tin cup into the foaming pail, and scampering away with it full to the brim. Nobody objected to that. If he chose to strain a point, and drink unstrained milk, he was welcome to do it.

"And if you see fit to save half your dinner, and give it away, I am willing," said his mother, who was busy, and hardly noticed what Romeo Augustus asked her. "But you must _not_ soil your jacket fronts as you do. This is the fifth time within a week I have sponged your clothes."

Soon after this, Philemon and Romeo Augustus were out in the barn, rolling over and over, burying themselves in the sweet-smelling hay.

Suddenly Philemon pricked up his ears.

"What's that?" quoth he. "I heard a little pig squealing. Where can he be?"

"Philemon," said Romeo Augustus, earnestly, "let's climb to that top mow, and jump down. Hurrah! It's a good twenty feet. Come on, if you dare!"

If he dare! Of course he dared. It was great fun to launch one's self into space, and come whirling down on the hay. There was just enough danger of breaking one's neck to give spice to the treat. How Romeo Augustus did scurry about, hustling Philemon whenever he stopped to breathe, and urging him on, shouting at the top of his lungs,

"One more jump, old boy. Hurrah! Hurray!"

Philemon had no spare time in which to wonder if he heard a small pig squeal.

That very night, when all the family was wrapped in slumber, Elias felt a hand on his shoulder. Another hand was on his mouth, to prevent any exclamation.

"Come with me," whispered Romeo Augustus; and he held out Elias's jacket and trousers. Elias took the hint, also the clothes. Down the stairs crept the two. Out the front door, which would creak, into the moon-lit yard stole they. Elias's eyes were snapping with excitement; for, as I said, Elias was poetical, and, like all poets, he was always expecting something to turn up. At this present he was on the look-out for what he called "the Gibbage."

Elias himself had grown to believe the marvellous stories he told his brothers. He had full faith in the Lovely Lily Lady, who lived in the attic; in the Mealy family, with their sky-blue faces and pea-green hands, in the cobwebby meal chest under the barn eaves; in the Peely family, who inhabited the tool-box in the shed, and whose heads were like baked apples with the peel taken off; in the big black bird, which came from the closet under the stairs at night, and flew through the chambers to dust the boys' clothes with its wings.

And now Elias had suspected in his own mind that there existed a creature, somewhat like a mouse, somewhat like a red flower-pot, which glided around during the night-watches to sharpen slate-pencils, smooth out dog-ears from school-books, erase lead-pencil marks, polish up marbles, straighten kite strings, put the "suck" into brick-suckers, and otherwise make itself useful. If there were not such a creature, there ought to be, and Elias became daily surer that there was. He called it "the Gibbage."

Perchance Romeo Augustus had caught a glimpse of it. No wonder Elias's eyes snapped as he was hurried across the yard, and led back of the barn, where there was a space between the underpinning and the ground. By lying flat one could wriggle his way under the barn, and when once beneath, there was room to stand nearly up-right.

"Elias," said Romeo Augustus, breathlessly, "I keep Mephibosheth under here."

"Sakes and daisies!" gasped Elias.

That was a very strong expression. When somewhat moved, Elias often exclaimed, "Sakes!" but when he added, "and daisies!" it was a sign he was stirred to his inmost depths.

"Sakes and daisies!" said Elias.

"Yes," Romeo Augustus went on, "I heard father say he didn't want the trouble of raising him, so I concluded I would. But nobody must see him till he's raised, and Philemon he heard him this very day. I must take him somewhere else. Where, Elias, oh, where can I carry him?"

Elias frowned and pondered. He was grieved not to have discovered "the Gibbage," but he would do the handsome thing by Romeo Augustus.

Half an hour later the jolly old moon nearly fell out of the sky for laughing. There were Elias and Romeo Augustus straining and tugging, coaxing and scolding, trying with might and main to stifle the expostulations of Mephibosheth, as they bore him down to an unmowed meadow.

The ox-eye daisies opened their sleepy petals to see what all the stir was about. The buttercups and dandelions craned themselves forward to peep.

Down in the meadow the boys drove a stake, and to it they fastened Mephibosheth. It was no joke taking food to him now. The unmowed meadow was in sight of the house, and it seemed as if one or another of the boys was always at the window. But Elias aided Romeo Augustus, and between them Mephibosheth got his daily rations. Surely he was safe at last. Far from it.

"Who has been trampling the grass in the north pasture?" asked Romeo Augustus's father, a fortnight later. "I followed the path made by feet that had no right there. At the end I found a stake. Tied to the stake I found a--"

Solomon and Isaac looked surprised. John and Philemon shook their heads. They knew nothing of the matter. Elias and Romeo Augustus quaked.

"At the end I found a--" repeated their father, gazing sternly round the table--"I found a--"

"_Pig_," said Romeo Augustus, in the smallest possible voice; and he fled from the table in an agony of tears. His labor had been in vain. After all, Mephibosheth must die. How could he endure it? He dared not glance out of the window of the chamber where he had taken refuge, lest he should behold Mephibosheth led to slaughter. It seemed as if his heart would break in two.

But listen! What is that noise? A clatter as of falling boards. There is a sound as of hammering. At first it seems to Romeo Augustus like Mephibosheth's death-knell. Thud, thud, thud, go the blows. Drawn almost against his will, Romeo Augustus stealthily approaches the window. He glances fearfully out. What does he see? His father pounding busily, making--what is he making? Can it be? It is--it is a _pen_.

"Father!" gasps Romeo Augustus.

His father looks up and smiles. "Your pig must have a house to live in," says he. "I can't have my meadow grass trampled."

Before noon Mephibosheth was in his new quarters. There was a parlor with two pieces of carpet on the floor; there was a chamber with plenty of straw, whereon Mephibosheth could repose; there was a dining-room, with what, in common language, might be termed a trough.

Such a life as that pig led! He was cared for tenderly. He was washed all over every morning, and put to bed every night. He was not a very brilliant pig as far as his intellect went, it must be confessed. He could do no tricks with cards; he could not be taught to jump through a hoop.

One year passed; Mephibosheth was large. Two years went by; Mephibosheth was wonderful. I would I could say he was _plump_; that word does not begin to express his condition. It would be pleasant to call him _stout_; that would not give the glimmer of an idea of his size. _Corpulent_ would be a refined way of stating it. Alas! corpulent means nothing as far as Mephibosheth is concerned. That animal measured _seven feet and twenty-two inches_ round his body. He weighed--truth is great, and must be spoken--he weighed _five hundred and fifty and two-third pounds_.

He could not walk; his legs were pipe-stems under him. He could scarcely breathe. That is the excuse for what happened.

One day Romeo Augustus came home from school. Mephibosheth's pen was empty. Mephibosheth's pen would be empty for evermore. That is a gentle way of telling the story. In vain it was explained to Romeo Augustus that Mephibosheth's life had become a burden; that common humanity demanded his departure. In vain Philemon offered three fish-hooks and a jackknife by way of solace. In vain Solomon was sure his father would present a calf to the mourner for a pet.

Elias was the only one who gave the least comfort.

"We will make a tombstone, and I will write an epitaph," said he.

Soon he brought a board, on which were drawn an urn and a couple of consumptive weeping-willows (for Elias was an artist as well as a poet), and underneath were these lines, which being written partly in old English spelling, were so much the more consoling:

Sacred to the Memorie of MEPHIBOSHETH.

Kinde Reader, pause and drop a teare, Y^e Pig his bodie lieth here; Y^e Auguste third of fiftie-nine Was when his sun dyd cease to shine. He broke two legs, which gave him wo; He doctored was by Romeo, Who cherished him from yeare to yeare, As by this notice doth appeare. He fed him till he waxed soe big He was obliged to hop the twig. Y^e friends do sadly raise their waile, And fondly eke preserve his tayle.

"And here's his tail," said Elias, presenting the pathetic memento.

"The only trouble is in the line, 'Y^e Pig his bodie lieth here,'" sobbed Romeo Augustus. "It doesn't lie here. He's been sold to a butcher."

"It's Elias who '_lieth_ here,'" remarked Isaac.

That was a heartless joke. No one was so low as to laugh at it.

"They often have monuments without the--the--the body," said Elias, with great delicacy.

Romeo Augustus was content.

He is a grown man now, but to this very day he keeps Mephibosheth's monument. It is nailed on the wall of his chamber. He sometimes smiles when he looks at it, but he does not take it down.

THE TAILOR AND THE WOLVES.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.

Ever so long ago there lived a tailor's apprentice, a merry, light-hearted fellow, but with a large hump, so that he always looked like a country-woman going to market on a Saturday, carrying her goods on her back.

One night, as he was returning from some festivity in the town, he had to go through a thick wood, in which it was so dark that he could not see his hand before his face. As he was dawdling along quite merrily, and whistling the tune of the last waltz that he had danced, he lost his way, and fell into a deep pit, so that sight and hearing forsook him, and he gave himself up for lost. But when he found out that he was unhurt after the fall, he began to cry pitiably and to call for help, till he suddenly heard talking not far off.

In the pit, which sloped sideways far down into the earth, lived a large wolf with his wife and two little ones, and when they had heard the tailor's fall and screams, the old wolf said, joyfully, to his wife,

"Be quick, my dear, hang the pot over the fire; I think we shall have something good to-night."

These words reached the ears of the tailor, who, in the deepest anxiety for his life, became as still as a mouse.

But the wolf opened the door of his den, put a lamp in his paw, and peered all round till he had discovered the tailor, whom he then seized by the legs, and, without more ado, dragged into his sitting-room.

When he was about to be killed, the poor fellow cried and bemoaned himself in such a heart-rending manner that the wife, who was a good soul, put in a word for him to her husband.

"Well, then," said the wolf, "he may live, but he must never return to men, or he would betray us; he must stay here and become a wolf."

"Most joyfully," said the tailor, "for I would rather live as a wolf than be cooked and eaten as a man."

Whereupon the wolf fetched one of his old furs out of the cupboard, and his wife had to sew the tailor into it.

So the tailor staid with them, soon learned to howl perfectly, and to walk on all fours; besides which, he became quite expert in catching rabbits.

One day, when they had all gone out hunting together, it happened that the King of the same land was also hunting in the wood. As soon as the hunters came near the wolves, they and the tailor took to their heels.

They ran into a neighboring thicket, and hid themselves behind some bushes, when the old wolf whispered to the others to keep quiet, without fear, for he had seen no dogs, and without their help no huntsmen would find them.

He spoke truly, for it so happened that a wild boar had killed every single dog.

Then it occurred to the King to take a pinch of snuff; after which he sneezed violently.

The tailor, who had not yet lost his knowledge of polite ways, said, respectfully, "Your health, sire!"

When the King heard these words he rode toward the bush, and all his huntsmen followed him.

Here they perceived the wolves, and the King and his companions set up a loud shout of joy. They threw their spears so well that only the old wolf could escape; and the tailor was the last to be seen, because he had hidden himself so well, but before the huntsmen could aim at him, he had rolled himself, howling piteously, toward the King, saying,

"I beg your pardon, sire; I am really a tailor's apprentice, and only by accident among the wolves."

Then they all began to laugh, and a huntsman cut him out of his skin. A horse also was brought, that he might ride by the King's side and relate his tale.

"Tailor," then said the King, very graciously, "you have caused me much amusement, and if you like you may remain with me."

This speech pleased the little man right well, and he rode straight away to the castle, where he lived in joy and luxury for some time, as the King's court and private tailor.

But the old wolf, who had escaped with his life, felt raging anger against all human beings, especially toward the tailor, who had been the cause of the death of his wife and children, and he determined to revenge himself.

So he lay continually on the watch, and any man who appeared in his sight was a child of death. The whole land was full of grief and sorrow, for hardly a day passed in which at least one human being did not meet with a sorrowful end in the grip of the fierce old wolf.

But he said, "It is not yet enough; they must all come to it; and the tailor shall suffer the most for bringing about the death of my wife and children, because he could not hold his tongue."

Saying which he went to the castle, where the tailor was just looking out of the window smoking a pipe.

"Fellow!" said the wolf, "you must die, or I can not rest."

Terror seized the little man, and he told the King what the wolf had threatened.

"Wait, tailor," answered the King; "it is now high time that we should catch this wretch, even if it costs me my only daughter. He has not even respect for the court tailor; so what will such conduct lead to? And besides, he is eating up all my subjects, which I can not allow; for if I have no subjects, I can no longer be a king."

He spoke, and caused it to be proclaimed through the whole land that he who brought the wolf alive should be his son-in-law.

The tailor had not dared to leave the castle for days, for fear of the monster; but at length he could sit still no longer, and went into the garden one bright summer's day. Suddenly the wolf sprang from behind a tree, caught the poor fellow by the tail of his coat, and dragged him far into the wood, in spite of all his wriggling and screaming.

"Rascal of a tailor!" said he; "you have brought me into misery, therefore you must die."

Then, in his dire need, a cunning, artful idea occurred to the tailor, and he exclaimed, "Look! there come the huntsmen!" and as the wolf turned round in alarm, the tailor leaped on to his back, and held his hands tightly over the creature's eyes.

Then the wolf ran as he had never run in his life before, so that each moment he thought his hated rider must fall to the ground.

And as the creature could not see, the tailor guided him toward the castle, to an open stable door; there got down, pushed him into one of the stalls, and then bolted the door on the outside.

The King was highly delighted that the tailor was such a cunning fellow, and consented that the betrothal to his daughter should take place at once.

The wolf was hanged, and his skin, which the tailor received among his wedding gifts, has been preserved to the present day, and just now lies under the table, belonging to the author of this little tale.

THE TALE Of A TAIL.

There was a rat lived in a mill-- Heigh oh! says Tidley Pill; If she's not dead, she lives there still-- Heigh oh! says Tidley Pill.

This rat she had a great long tail-- Heigh oh! says Tidley Pill; One day she caught it on a nail-- Heigh oh! says Tidley Pill.

She pulled so hard she pulled it out-- Heigh oh! says Tidley Pill; And then she turned herself about-- Heigh oh! says Tidley Pill.

At home I've got a little babee-- Heigh oh! says Tidley Pill; I wonder if she will know me-- Heigh oh! says Tidley Pill.

Oh, mother! mother! where's your tail?-- Heigh oh! says Tidley Pill. Yonder it hangs upon a nail-- Heigh oh! says Tidley Pill.

It gives us the greatest pleasure to receive all the pretty favors which come to us by every mail from all parts of the country. Those communications which we think will be of interest to other children we print whenever we can make space for them, and all, without any exception, are carefully read, and their receipt acknowledged. These letters give pleasant, satisfactory glimpses into many homes, and we see the group of eager young faces watching, as they tell us, "for papa to bring our paper." Do not be disappointed, any of you, when you fail to find your pretty letter, which you have written so carefully and neatly, printed in the Post-office Box. We can not print all. If we did, you would have no stories to read, no pictures to look at--nothing but letters; for your busy little brains and fingers would fill the whole paper every week if we did not crowd some of you out. But keep on writing, for we like to hear what stories please you best, and in what subjects you are most interested. In that way there is always a mutual understanding between us, and our acquaintance is more likely to be intimate and lasting. We are also very much interested in what children write about the seasons in different regions of the country, showing how spring advances from Texas up into the far northern State of Oregon. Such letters are always interesting and instructive. One request we would make, that is, always write your signature very distinctly. Often we can not make out even your initials, and your name may be misprinted in our acknowledgments.

* * * * *

WARREN, OHIO, _March 1, 1880_.

The robins and the bluebirds came here about the middle of February, and if it does not get colder, willow "pussies" will be out in a few days. Please tell me what the "wind-flower" is. I do not think, as Bertie Brown does, that people ought to send the Indians something to eat, for mamma had an uncle who lived in Minnesota, and he used to feed them whenever they came, and they killed him and three of his children. So I don't like Indians.

D. J. MYERS.

The wind-flower is found in the early spring growing among dry leaves and in sunny nooks by old stone walls, sometimes in open pasture lands where the soil is damp. The blossoms, which are pale pinkish-white, grow on a stem from two to four inches in height. There is only one drooping flower on a stem. This plant is more properly called _anemone_, from _anemos_, a Greek word signifying wind. It is interesting to know that it was called anemone by the ancient Romans. Pliny alludes to it, and says it was called wind-flower because it opened its petals only when the wind blew.

* * * * *

FAIRFIELD, ALABAMA.

My heart is gladdened once a week when papa says, "Daughter, here is your paper." I am far away in the South, but Uncle Sam's mail arrangement is so grand that it finds us all. I was eleven years old last month, and had a nice birthday party. I go to school, and love my teacher very much.

MAMIE JONES.

* * * * *

ATLANTA, GEORGIA.

I have lived in the South two years, although I was born in Ohio. There is never any snow here, and I long to get back North on account of winter sports. Atlanta is surrounded by beautiful scenery, and also by many traces of the war, such as intrenchments and breastworks. In answer to Edwin A. H., I will say that I have a cabinet, but have not so many specimens as he. I have minerals and other things from many parts of the far West, collected by myself, and also dried flowers from New Zealand, and a nut from Vancouver Island.

JOHN G. WILSON.

* * * * *

MONMOUTH, OREGON.

I thought I would drop a line to you, and let you know that I am one of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE. I like it very much. I am nine years old. I have a little brother who has some pet rabbits. I left Wales with papa and mamma when I was three years old. Then I could not speak a word of English, but now I don't remember a word of Welsh. We are having lots of snow here this winter.

DAVID FOULKES.

* * * * *

WRIGHTSTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA.

I live in a very quiet little village. Just across one field from our house stands a house which was Washington's head-quarters at the time of the Revolutionary war. About one-quarter of a mile away there is a tree, more than a century old, under which Washington stood just before he started for Trenton on Christmas-night, 1776. He crossed the Delaware six miles east of this place. Near this village is a barn two hundred years old.

ROSE W. SCOTT.

* * * * *

ERIE, PENNSYLVANIA, _March 3, 1880_.

About five weeks ago a lady in this place found two pansies in bloom in her garden, and last week a man told my papa he saw a large flock of robins in some cherry-trees in his yard. If they were looking for cherries, they were disappointed. Had they come into our yard, they would have seen a large bed of bright yellow crocuses. I am eight years old.

CARRIE L. WILLARD.

* * * * *

JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA.

In YOUNG PEOPLE No. 13 Joseph P. writes that he hatched a chicken by putting the egg in ashes. I tried it. I put the egg in a tobacco-box, and put it by the stove. Mamma's servant built a hot fire, and the egg, instead of hatching, baked.

EDDIE E. PADDOCK (8 years).

* * * * *

PETERSBURG, INDIANA.

I am a little girl seven years old, and I live on a farm with my grandpa and grandma. My dear mamma died last December. It was very hard to part with her, but I am not destitute of friends. I have three uncles, who are very kind to me. I have a little canary-bird. He is a beautiful singer, and is company for me. And I have a large dog that plays with me every day. I call him Watch. I can read in the Third Reader, although I never went to school but one week in my life, on account of ill health. I have had the chills for five years--not all the time, but very severe.

ANNA SHANDY.

* * * * *

Answers to S. R. W.--including, however, no new words--are received from Polly Pleasant, Ethel S. M., Herbert W., Mamie E. F., Maud Chase, F. E. Bacon, B. E. S., Connie, Frank N. Dodd, Carrie S. Levey, R. W. Dawson, "School-Children," C. B. F.

* * * * *

SALEM, NORTH CAROLINA.

Mamma takes YOUNG PEOPLE for me, and I like it very much. I made a Soapboxticon to-day, and had trouble with it at first, but now it works nicely. I hope all who try to make one will succeed as well as I did.

A. H. PATTERSON.

* * * * *

George F. Powers, Willie G. Lee, Frank Shennen, M. Paul Martin, and Fred A. Conklin report trouble with the Soapboxticon, but if they persevere, and carefully follow directions, they will soon have a pretty toy.

* * * * *

ATHENS, ALABAMA.

I must tell you how I enjoy YOUNG PEOPLE. My good uncle Henry takes it for me. I must tell about my pet geese. Their names are Boss and Susan. They are very gentle, and as smart as they can be. I have a puppy named Bang-up. My grandpa named him. I am six years old, and my mamma is writing this for me.

WILLIAM S. PEEBLES.

* * * * *

EVANS MILLS, NEW YORK.

Can any one tell me who is the oldest man in the United States?

MADISON COOPER.

Who among our young correspondents can answer this question?

* * * * *

CHELTON MILLS, PENNSYLVANIA.

I have a bird named Cherry, and a dog named Jack; and I have a little sister named Mae, and she is so cute. She has a doll, and she nurses her so sweetly! I am eight years old, and I go to school. We have heard robins and bluebirds singing.

ELLIE CARLE.

* * * * *

BELLE PLAINE, MINNESOTA.

My kitty comes to my room every morning, and jumps upon my bed. His name is Jim. He is a nice kitty, and full of play. He scratches me sometimes awful hard, but I love him all the same. I saw a picture in YOUNG PEOPLE of a little girl and her kitty.

ELVIRA F. IRWIN.

* * * * *

ALLEGHENY, PENNSYLVANIA.

I have a canary named Frank. He used to bite my nose and fingers when I put them in his cage, but he will not bite them now. I also have a small turtle, whose shell is about two inches long. It came from the Niagara River. It sleeps in winter, excepting when the sun shines on it, and it will not eat. But in summer it eats flies and bits of raw meat.

FLORENCE E. M.

* * * * *

DENVER, COLORADO.

I have no pets to write about, but I expect to have a Newfoundland dog soon. We live in a new house, and do not need a cat; but when the rats come, we are going to get one. I have thirteen dolls. The largest one has black hair and gray eyes, and her name is Josephine. I am nine years old.

SADIE T.

* * * * *

WALTHAM, MASSACHUSETTS.

I am seven years old. I have no brothers or sisters, but I have a squirrel and a fish. The squirrel was caught after he made his home in the woods, and he was so wild that he would bite if we touched him; but we were so kind to him that he begins to feel better. We let him out now, and he runs round the room, and I can put my hand on him. My fish is the last of three. The other two started to go back to their native river one night, and they fell on the floor and were killed.

FRANKIE L. WHITNEY.

* * * * *

John B. M., Nicholas P. G., and Robbie C. write pretty stories of their pet cats, dogs, and foxes, which we regret having no room to print. In answer to Robbie's question, we would say that the bite of a fox is painful, but not dangerous like that of a dog.

* * * * *

WILLIE R. C.--When you recover from your illness, and can write your "own self," we will print your letter if it is interesting.

* * * * *

LOUDON ENGLE and HARRY D.--Pigeons like to eat bird seed, broken corn, or any kind of grain, and enjoy that kind of food much better than bread-crumbs. They need fresh water to drink, and will bathe now and then, like a canary, if they have a bath dish large enough to flutter in.

* * * * *

W. M. L.--There is many a one much older than you who would be glad to know an easy and quick way to make ten dollars. Unfortunately we can not tell you how to accomplish your object.

* * * * *

META.--Your poetic idea of beauty is very pretty, and shows much imagination for such a little girl.

* * * * *

BESSIE D. L.--Call your bird Rosie, and your kitty Clover. There was once a big Maltese cat named Clover who did many funny tricks, and lived to be very old. If you name your kitty after her, perhaps she will live as long.

* * * * *

MARY B.--Your plan for a picture scrap-book is very good. Try to select some pictures of historical localities and celebrated buildings, and then, when you show your book to your little friends, you will have something interesting to tell them.

* * * * *

CLARA M. H.--Your "old bachelor uncle" is very kind to send you YOUNG PEOPLE, and you will be glad to hear that a large number of other uncles have made their little nieces happy in the same way.

* * * * *

Favors are received from H. M. H., John V. Gould, Alfred D. S., W. E. Liddy, Fannie Spencer, Grace Field, P. S. Heffleman, Alice Maud T., Beatrice W., Margaret Baird, Elva E. Groat, Eugene Lewis, Lucy Cole, May and Josie Minton, Gertie Harrison, Ella E. Ball, George Kohler, Fred Castle, Annie P., H. S. Richardson, "Theo. Glenwood," Horace G. S., C. Reynolds, George P., Addie and Minnie Goodnow, Frank Harris, Frank Fowler, W. H. W., Jessie I. Sturgis, Gordon C., Willie A. Kyh, G. M. Brockway, Arthur Mills, Katty Voorhees, Joseph A. U., May Harvey, C. E. C., Pierre F. C., Bertha Young, E. G. R., Nettie Carleton, Albert A. Bosworth, Mary S. Talbot, Samuel Maurer, Percy L., F. G., Diana S., Oswald, C. W. L., Mattie E. Wilson, F. R. Newton, May H.

* * * * *

Correct answers to puzzles received from Louie E., Mabel Lowell, "Red Light," Bertie Collins, J. Turner, Mamie and Mattie S., Lily and Violet Levey, Loudon Engle, Georgie H. B., J. Cohen, G. K. Richards, Ernest B. Cooper, Fannie Peirce, Fred Brown, Fred H. T., Johnny W., Kate H. Talbot, Florence E. M., R. F. Losee, Otto M. Rau, Laura Wallis, Hen, A. Brigham, Ralph M. Fay, H. K. Pryer, W. P. D. M., J. M. Rector, George P. G., C. A. M., Peter Slane, Jessie Sansum, Emma Shaffer, J. D. P., Ralph and Blanche S., Walter K., Nena Crommelin, G. E. Edwards, Tillie Mosley.

* * * * *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

ENIGMA.

My first is in victim, but not in shoot. My second is in blind, but not in mute. My third is in rot, but not in decay. My fourth is in linger, but not in stay. My fifth is in bear, but not in man. My sixth is in pot, but not in pan. My whole is a beautiful flower.

JENNIE C. (10 years).

* * * * *

No. 2.

NUMERICAL CHARADE.

I am composed of 21 letters. My 4, 9, 5 is a boy's name. My 7, 17, 3, 1, 2 is white and sparkling. My 10, 11, 13, 20, 15 is a beast. My 19, 14, 18, 8 is not sweet. My 16, 6, 12, 21 grows on pine-trees. My whole is a delight to all boys.

FRANK C. (12 years).

* * * * *

No. 3.

HIDDEN CITIES.

1. Play till dinner, Rosa; then sit and sew. 2. It either lies on the floor or leans against the wall. 3. The ship came into port on last Friday. 4. We walked over to Aunt Mary's. 5. How that dog ran! Ada could not catch it. 6. Go take a nap, Leslie; you look worn out. 7. The dog is mad; ride away quickly. 8. What made papa rise and dress so early this morning? 9. Why is Hesba sleepy to-day? 10. Be sure you come in December; Linton will be here then. 11. I laid a lily on Sadie's plate.

FANNY P. (12 years).

* * * * *

No. 4.

ENIGMA.

My first is in candle, but not in lamp. My second is in dark, and also in damp. My third is in night, but not in day. My fourth is in bed, but not in lay. My fifth is in alley, but not in street. My whole is something very sweet.

LAURA B. W.

* * * * *

No. 5.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

An ancient nation. A screen. To be silent. A country in Asia. Grain. A noise made by certain animals. Answer--Two rivers in the United States.

MARIE D. (12 years).

* * * * *

No. 6.

ENIGMA.

My first is in warm, but not in cold. My second is in deck, but not in hold. My third is in lady, but not in man. My fourth is in meal, but not in bran. My fifth is in nick, but not in batter. My sixth is in din, but not in clatter. My seventh is in fright, but not in scare. My eighth is in stallion, but not in mare. My ninth is in county, but not in State. My tenth is in manner, but not in gait. And in these lines there can be found The name of a general much renowned.

C. A. M.

* * * * *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 18.

No. 1.

Cincinnati.

No. 2.

N antucke T A thlon E S aigo N H udso N V enic E I llinoi S L ewi S L ouisvill E E ri E

Nashville, Tennessee

No. 3.

Cellar.

No. 4.

B O N E O V A L N A I L E L L A

No. 5.

C A L E C L E A R E A R R

No. 6.

Abraham Lincoln.

* * * * *

Charade on page 232--Brigade.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

CANDY

Send one, two, three, or five dollars for a sample box, by express, of the best Candies in America, put up elegantly and strictly pure. Refers to all Chicago. Address

C. F. GUNTHER, Confectioner, 78 MADISON STREET, CHICAGO.

=KEEP YOUR BIRD= IN HEALTH AND SONG by using =SINGER'S PATENT GRAVEL PAPER=. Sold by Druggists and Bird Dealers.

Depot, 582 Hudson St., N. Y.

HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE will be issued every Tuesday, and may be had at the following rates--_payable in advance, postage free_:

SINGLE COPIES $0.04 ONE SUBSCRIPTION, _one year_ 1.50 FIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, _one year_ 7.00

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.

ADVERTISING.

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.

OUR CHILDREN'S SONGS.

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

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._

It contains some of the most beautiful thoughts for children that ever found vent in poesy, and beautiful "pictures to match."--_Chicago Evening Journal._

An excellent anthology of juvenile poetry, covering the whole range of English and American literature.--_Independent_, N. Y.

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.

* * * * *

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._

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. Part II. Animals. Part III. Air, Water, Heat, Light, &c. By WORTHINGTON HOOKER, M.D. Illustrated. The Three Parts complete in One Volume, Small 4to, Half Leather, $1.31; or, separately, in Cloth, Part I., 53 cents; Part II., 56 cents; Part III., 56 cents.

* * * * *

A beautiful and useful work. It presents a general survey of the kingdom of nature in a manner adapted to attract the attention of the child, and at the same time to furnish him with accurate and important scientific information. While the work is well suited as a class-book for schools, its fresh and simple style cannot fail to render it a great favorite for family reading.

The Three Parts of this book can be had in separate volumes by those who desire it. This will be advisable when the book is to be used in teaching quite young children, especially in schools.

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

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

CHILDREN'S

PICTURE-BOOKS.

Square 4to, about 300 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.

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

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

"Break, break, break, For the tables are turned, we see; And the damaged heads of the boys that are 'bumped' Are warnings to you and me."

TENNYSON (_altered eg(g)regiously for the occasion_).

WIGGLES.

Drawings of Wiggle No. 9, given on page 184 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 15, have been sent in by Alph A. H., J. M. W., R. B. C., F. H. Denman, Arthur H. Spear, G. L., Isabelle Oakey, "Trombone-blower," J. H. G., John Peddle, Laura C. Parmelli, F. S. J., John T. Hall, Fred Houston, Ettie Houston, J. G. T., Harry Austin, D. W. C. F., Willie H. Speller, M. D. J., Lena E. Schmidt, Harry Moore, G. H. Fisher, Miriam Hill, John G. Wilson, William Atkinson, Mabel Lowell, Walter Stillman, Mabel H., J. R. G., R. S. G., J. S. E., Josie Vail, W. C. N., Willie R. H., E. J. B., K. T., Entomologist, Bertha Childs, J. R., John H. Grensel, J. H. G., R. C. Jopp, Karst, B. R. I., I. H. J., George Town, Russ, C. T. Hamilton, Leon M. Forbes, W. F. Pinkham, E. T. J., M. H. V., Jessy Sander, Amenia G. Alger, Frank M. Richards, Morton D. H., F. G. Wurdman, K. T., Herbie Ferguson, C. H. Theberath, Willie H. Spiller, J. K. M., Dollie Murdock, Theo. F. John, Percy and George, Aggie R. H., G. S. D., Matthew Latin, Julia West, Olive Russell, Charles Conner, Willie R. C. Corson, Effie E. Parks, Margaret E., Carter Colquitt, M. O. K., Mattie L. F., B. H. Smith, Irwin McDowell, C. H. A., F. E. G., and E. We have only room to publish some of the best of the many drawings offered. Fig. No. 10 is a new Wiggle; now let us see what you can do with it.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, March 23, 1880, by Various