Part 3

"Some of those h's you dropped last week," says Price. "I'm afraid we won't have enough for this week's lessons if we don't find a few of 'em."

"No fear of that," says I. "Harry picks 'em all up as he goes along, and hangs them on to all sorts of words wherever they'll fit handy."

One thing about Hunter was he never got mad when he was chaffed, but just laughed with the rest of us.

But the riddle he gave us one recess when we were guessing conundrums and things!--it was just awful. "Why is that dog," he asked, "that I just saw run up the road, like an article in general use in country places after night-fall?" And when we all shook our heads, says he, as grave as a judge, "Because he is the cur-I-seen." Well, I rolled off my seat at that. It certainly was the worst conundrum I ever heard.

Well, Harry taught us how to play Hare and Hounds.

"An Irish game, I suppose," says Charley Bennet. "It sounds very like something I've heard our gardener say, and he's just over from the 'gem of the sea.'"

"No gem of the sea about it," says Hunter. "It belongs to merry old England."

Hare and Hounds is the correct thing. S'pose most of you fellows know it, but I'll explain if there's any that don't. You see we take pieces of rather thick paper--tearing up old copy-books and compositions is the best, 'cause thin paper would fly too much. That's for the scent. Then the hare stuffs his pockets, or a little bag he carries slung over his left shoulder, and away he starts, dropping a handful here and a handful there, and the rest of the boys--the hounds, you know--follow him by the scent, and catch him if they can. They're bound to follow wherever he leads, and he darts behind trees, and doubles, and does all sorts of things to put them off his track. If they don't catch him, he wins, and the hounds all sit down in a row and bark mournfully. Roy Wheeler added the mournful bark part. Harry Hunter and I were the best hares in school, and the hounds used to find it awful hard to catch us.

Well, we'd played it half a dozen times, and had high old fun, when one day we had a holiday (a half-holiday, I mean) 'cause--but I won't say any more on that subject; that's Al Smith's story--and all the other fellows had cut and run as soon as they'd had their dinner, but I staid behind to finish some Latin exercises. Hen Rowe was getting ahead of me, and the Professor and Mrs. Weston were out in the strawberry patch. And when I was through I started off to join the boys, and just got to the gate, when the Professor called me back and asked me if I would carry a basket of berries to the little lame boy that lived in Cedar Lane.

Well, it was quite a distance beyond the place where the fellows were to wait for me, and I was a quarter of an hour behind time now. But I didn't think of that a minute, for there never was a better master than ours, and I'd 'a given him the whole afternoon if he'd wanted it. So I says, "Yes, sir, with pleasure," and I takes the basket, and then I suddenly remembered that the cobbler lived in Cedar Lane too, and my best shoes wanted half-soling, and I went to my room and got 'em, and was a-going out of the gate once more, when Professor Weston calls out again, "Morningstar," and comes down the path.

"Tell the boys not to play Hare and Hounds to-day. Some of the farmers have sent complaints here by Michael Snow, and Snow himself says his early pease were all trodden down. He has just gone, and I promised there should be no more trouble of the kind. If the boys have commenced playing, stop them as soon as you can. And we'll talk over the matter to-morrow; for it's a fine game, and I don't want to stop it altogether. In fact, I think of joining in myself some day, but we must manage to avoid annoying our neighbors."

"You can depend upon me, sir," says I; and off I starts again, basket of strawberries on one arm and shoes under the other. When I got almost to Michael Snow's grounds I saw the boys standing in a crowd round Harry Hunter under the big tree outside of the fence. Hunter was just strapping the bag of papers under his left arm--the bag meant a good long run; pockets, a short one--and when they caught sight of me they set up a shout like a pack of wild Indians.

"Hi! hello! here's Morningstar. Now look out for yourself, Mr. Hare."

"He won't catch me to-day, I bet," says Harry. "Rule Britannia, and Rowell forever!" and off he goes.

Down went the strawberries and shoes under the tree.

"Hail, Columbia! and Yankee Doodle! and Fourth of July!" I yelled, and away I go after him, and all the rest after me.

Over Snow's fence vaults Harry, and over it the hounds vault too. Through the apple orchard, down to the bean patch, in and out among the bean poles, behind the barn, over a pile of empty flower-pots--and such a smash!--until the other end of the farm was reached, where there was a stone wall, but some of the stones had fallen in one place near the ground, and left quite a big hole. The hare flattened himself as flat as a pancake, and was on the other side in a jiffy. And I flattened myself, wondering why the other fellows had stopped a-hollering behind me, and I was half-way under, when somebody grabbed me by the heels and jerked me out again, and in another minute I was standing before Michael Snow and Professor Weston. All of a sudden--it had gone clean out of my head until then--I remembered I had promised the Professor.

"_Upon my word and honor_, sir," said I, looking straight into his eyes--he's got awful nice eyes, only kind of stern sometimes, and this was one of the times--with a cold shiver running down my back, "I forgot. They were just starting as I came along, and Harry Hunter hurrahed for 'Britannia and Rowell,' and I hurrahed for 'Hail, Columbia.'"

"And 'Yankee Doodle, and Fourth of July,'" says Snow, with a grin, and the Professor's eyes began to twinkle.

"You needn't say any more, Morningstar," says he, "for I know when one of my boys gives his word of honor he is telling nothing but the truth. But your memory must have a lesson. It needs cultivating. Go back to the school-room. I will arrange matters with Mr. Snow, and be there in half an hour."

Back I went, feeling bad enough, to the tree where I'd left the berries and shoes. Jerry O'Neill was sprawling on the grass--he's the fellow that eats everything he can get hold of, you know--and he handed me the empty basket. "I ate 'em," says he; "I thought they was yours, and you wouldn't mind." The shoes were gone. "I guess a tramp I met took 'em," says Jerry. "He had a bundle sticking out of one of his coat pockets."

When the Professor came in he told the boys himself what I had promised to tell them, and then he said: "I'm sorry to punish Morningstar, but, as I told him a short time ago, his memory needs a lesson. And so I shall be obliged to ask him to go every play-hour to Michael Snow's grounds and give him his services, until such time as Snow shall consider himself repaid for the damage done to-day."

"Oh, I say now, that won't do at all," blurts out Harry Hunter, turning very red, "I beg pardon, sir, but what I'd like to say is this: Morningstar forgot his promise in his wish to uphold the honor of his country, sir--"

"And we'll all go with him this very afternoon, sir," says Walt Ray, "with your permission, and by night-fall the Snow place will be as good as ever."

"And we'll pay for the broken flower-pots, sir," says little Al Smith--the best little chap in the world--can't bear to see any one punished.

The Professor smiled. That was enough. We all smiled, and then we gave him a rousing cheer, and rushed down to Snow's.

Snow wasn't half bad. He laughed right out when he saw us coming, and in less than two hours, we'd done all the work he said _he_ wanted us to do, and were eating fresh-baked gingerbread--Mrs. Snow made it--and drinking milk in the barn. Jerry O'Neill ate so much that he had awful dreams that night--thought a whole procession of elephants was walking over him.

And I've never forgotten a promise since that Hare-and-Hounds day. It was the best lesson _my_ memory ever got.

HOW TO MAKE A MAGIC LANTERN.

After the lens has once been procured, which may be purchased from any optician, the price ranging from fifty cents upward, according to the size and quality of the glass, a magic lantern may be constructed out of a few simple materials by an ingenious boy.

Procure from a tinman several sheets of tin and a small piece of tin pipe, into which the lens will fit nicely. Then go to work with a soldering-iron and construct a square box, the dimensions of which may be a foot or a foot and a half each way. There must be a round opening on one side into which the pipe holding the lens is fitted, a door at the back to admit a lamp, and a hole in the top for a chimney. A reflector fits in the opposite side to the door, and can be drawn forward at pleasure; and a space is left to allow the introduction of the slides.

The room, when prepared for exhibiting, must be entirely darkened, and the slides, are then slipped in, upside down. The lens brilliantly reflects and magnifies the figures, previously painted on the glass, on to a white sheet suspended from the ceiling. Thus any subjects--landscapes, figures, or animals--become enlarged, according to the distance the lantern is removed from the sheet, and the size and quality of the lens.

Now for the slides. These require some artistic talent, but not a vast amount. If a youth has a vein of comic talent, it will add to the fun, or he may easily procure prints from which to copy. Some, however, prefer scenery, natural objects, etc., all of which, if well painted, show well in the magic lantern.

First procure the glass, cut to the size required, so that it will slip easily into the opening in the lantern; then trace the outline, after having the colors ready, which can be purchased of any artists' colorman.

Observe that the dry colors must be ground very fine, and mixed with spirits of turpentine, and worked in with mastic varnish. Especial care must be taken that enough varnish be used to moisten the color sufficiently, and prevent its being limpy while working on the glass; also great judgment is necessary in laying on the colors, as they ought to be as transparent as possible.

In the event of the picture being humorous and a part of it movable, the latter must be managed by a long slip of glass affixed to the slide, previously framed round--for instance, a barber shaving a man. The whole of the painting should be executed on the slide, except the barber's arm, which must be traced and colored on the narrow slip, and then arranged so as to complete the figure. This is easily done, by the slip fastening into the frame. Then by a quick movement of the narrow piece of glass, backward and forward, while exhibiting, an appearance of reality is given, and the operation of shaving is successfully performed.

PUNCHINELLO.

HIS EXTRAORDINARY LIFE AND MARVELLOUS ADVENTURES.

III.

The next day, early in the morning, Punchinello came on deck to see the sun rise.

"A storm is rising," he announced.

The Captain laughed at Punchinello's prediction, and so did the crew.

But suddenly the sky became black, the waves grew larger, and the ship commenced to roll dangerously.

"I told you, sir, that you would be drowned," said Punchinello.

The Captain, furious, instead of attending to the management of his ship, thought only of revenging himself on Punchinello.

"You scoundrel!" cried he, "if I am going to be drowned, you shall be so first."

Immediately poor Punchinello was lifted up and held between the sky and the sea. But even in this terrible situation he did not lose his presence of mind.

"Mercy on you, my good people!" said he. "You will not have long to rejoice over my death, for I see some one coming who will avenge me."

All eyes were turned in the direction which Punchinello indicated. About a mile off, the fire of the cannons of a Turkish pirate ship was to be seen.

"Horror upon horrors!" screamed the Captain, "we shall all be killed." So saying, he rolled about the deck, weeping.

"As I happen to know the Turkish language perfectly," said Punchinello, "I shall be able to save you." He then withdrew to his cabin, and dressed himself like a Turk, which gave him the most extraordinary appearance you can imagine. This done, he saturated his garments with a strong and disagreeable odor that he had obtained from the juice of a sickly plant.

In this guise did he approach the Turkish vessel, and was hoisted on board. At the sight of this mountebank, or on account of the horrible odor, the pirates showed much surprise, and could not resist holding their noses.

"It really is nothing," said Punchinello. "Friend Pasha, I have come from that miserable Spanish ship, which I trust you will soon take possession of."

"But," interrupted the Pasha, "Brother Hunchback, what ever is this dreadful smell?"

"It is nothing, my lord," replied Punchinello. "A number of the men on the Spanish vessel are ill. The physician has said that it might be the plague. Thus we use these ill-smelling things to protect us from the disease."

"The plague!" roared the Pasha, rising hastily. "The wretch has the plague. Throw him into his boat. Let us get away as fast as we can. Friends, they have all got the plague."

The Pasha had not said this before Punchinello jumped into his boat and returned to his own quarters, where he was received with transports of delight, for the pirates had already fled, and were soon out of sight.

Directly he landed at Marseilles, Punchinello sought for a horse to take him to Paris. While he was purchasing his animal, a big black cat came and rubbed itself against his legs.

"That cat," said the owner of the horse, "knows the way to Paris as well as any one; and I have given him as guide to several travellers."

"Ho! ho! I shall take him with me, then, if that is the case, just to find out what a rogue you are, my fine fellow."

Punchinello galloped at full speed toward Paris, and was much astonished to see the big cat run on before him with marvellous rapidity. But his surprise soon changed to uneasiness when he observed that the speed of the cat was rapidly increasing, and that his horse was following it at the same rate. Both seemed to have gone mad.

"This is horrible!" cried Punchinello. "Friend Puss, good creature, are we not going to have some dinner somewhere? What is the matter with you? Whoa! Faith, my clothes are all falling off me!" But this discourse only spurred on the cat. Suddenly, when they were going at the same rate through a dark forest of chestnuts, all at once the whole cavalcade sank into the earth, and disappeared as if enchanted.

Punchinello now found himself, with his feet in the air, in the midst of about thirty persons of the most forbidding appearance possible. They were in reality thieves of the worst character.

"Lord Punchinello," said the Captain of the band, "I hope you will consent to remain with us; for if you refuse, I shall have you put in a pot and boil you alive."

"I understand that I should not be worth much boiled," said Punchinello; "therefore I am at your service, sirs."

Punchinello saw that he was a prisoner, and therefore began at once to plan how to escape. The Captain, whose name was Ronflard, departed that very evening, thus giving him an opportunity too good to be lost.

The next day he said, laughing: "Comrades, you lead a jolly life down here, but I confess that I can't help regretting the delightful amusement that always enchanted the Neapolitan Court after dinner."

"What was it?" cried the whole band at once.

"It consists," said Punchinello, "in descending a steep hill in little sledges, going one after the other, and running on rails. Nothing would be easier than to arrange the same sort of thing on the slope that I descended yesterday evening to get here."

"That is the thing to suit us exactly," cried the brigands on all sides. "Friends, to work at once and build some sledges!"

Soon all was ready. Each of the twenty brigands got into his own sledge upon the platform that was just at the top of the staircase underneath the trap-door.

Punchinello remained at the bottom of the staircase. The brigands in their twenty sledges set off, descending the slope with terrible rapidity; but, lo and behold! as soon as they were going at full speed, Punchinello drew a huge skewer, about thirty feet long, from behind his back, and held the point toward the tops of the sledges, which were descending with immense rapidity. Horror was depicted on the faces of the brigands. Their cries were piteous. However, whether they would or no, they were obliged to fall upon the skewer. They went rolling down zigzag; the first brigand arrived like lightning, and thirty feet of steel went through his body. The others came rolling down, and were impaled, one after the other--a horrible death, but a fitting end to their guilty lives.

Punchinello then put the skewer, with his extraordinary game, on a cart, harnessed six horses to it, and arrived in less than two hours at the town of Chartres. He immediately inquired the address of the magistrate.

Directly Punchinello entered the low room where this personage awaited him, he was almost dazed at recognizing in the nose of this official the counterpart of the one he had seen the night before on Captain Ronflard's face. Indeed, such a nose was not to be forgotten when once seen. Its length was so great that it made its appearance, so to speak, about a quarter of an hour before its owner. It stretched straight out like a staff, or the shaft of a carriage.

Of course Punchinello understood at once that the magistrate, by a bold appropriation of two offices, united the power of a justice with his horrible trade of chief of a band of robbers. With great self-command, he pretended not to have recognized Ronflard in his magistrate's robes. The latter had the account of Punchinello's escape related to him, and, caressing his big cat, he complimented Punchinello upon his courage, and begged him to sup with him.

What passed during the meal was never quite cleared up, as Punchinello confessed that he did not know himself. Some have concluded that he must have swallowed some terrible drug. What is known for certain is that the next morning Punchinello found himself in a damp prison. He began to think over his past life, until, remembering the look of regret that his donkey had given him when he said good-by to him forever, tears fell from his eyes.

"Who is that that is complaining over there?" said a voice suddenly, quite close to Punchinello.

"It is the poor son of a fisherman," replied he, "who is deformed in front and behind. But who are you?"

"I am the Goodman Patience," replied the voice, "and my trade is to show puppets gratis to amuse poor people and little children."

"By my wig--" cried Punchinello. But he was cut short by the prison door groaning on its hinges; and the magistrate entered, followed by his black cat. By the light of a torch Ronflard read their sentence, in which they were condemned to be hanged in an hour's time.

When Punchinello wished to remonstrate, the magistrate withdrew, grinning. Punchinello, enraged, noticed the big cat that was going out after its master, and shut the door with such violence that the tail of the animal was cut clean off at the root. Immediately it was transformed into a long rope.

"Ha! ha!" cried Punchinello, "I move that we make this tail useful. I see my way to an escape."

Punchinello mounted the tail, of which he held the tuft as a bridle, whilst Patience placed himself behind.

"Good!" cried Punchinello. "One, two, three--and away to Paris!"

Punchinello had hardly time to realize that he was travelling when he was set down, with his companion, in the middle of the Champs Elysées. It was on a beautiful day in spring, about noon.

"Listen," said Patience: "I have an idea in my head. I will establish my little theatre here, and if you will appear as an actor, it can not fail to prosper. There is no question but that your wit, added to your funny appearance, will attract numbers of spectators."

"Well, perhaps so," said Punchinello; "and I confess that I thought of that myself. As I have only found envy and malice amongst the great, what better use could I make of the wit that has been given me than to employ it in amusing poor people, and little children who are always innocent and good? I am poor myself and of lowly rank. I will make them laugh, and I will bring roses to the cheeks of all the sweet little children that pass, for in so doing I shall reap a blessing."

In the course of time Punchinello made the acquaintance of Judy, and married her. She has been a great help to him in his performances, as you will all allow. If you are puzzled as to how he manages to be in so many countries and at so many different places at the same time, it is because he still retains the rope made of the cat's tail, which carries him anywhere at a moment's notice.

THE END.

OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.

CAHTO, CALIFORNIA.

I am a little girl twelve years old. My mother on my birthday gave me $1.50 for my birthday present, with which I subscribed for HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. I have a pet deer, and it is very cute. I have a little brother four years old, who enjoys hearing YOUNG PEOPLE read to him. He calls it singing. He repeats many of the verses in "Pinafore Rhymes." I have another brother, sixteen years old, who likes to hunt deer. He shot one and went to cut its throat, and it jumped up and ran off. My brother is trapping now; he caught an owl in his trap this morning, which I would like to keep for a pet. My brother and I enjoy reading HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE very much, and could not do without it.

ALLIE R.

We can not help feeling glad the poor deer was able to run away. Hunting seems like cruel sport, unless it is necessary to secure food. Try to persuade your brother not to go out with his gun and knife, but to trap wild creatures instead, and then let you have them for pets.

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QUENEMO, KANSAS.

Quenemo is an Indian name, and means "something beautiful." It is situated on the Marais des Cygnes River, which means the Marsh of the White Swan. Down in Missouri the same river is known as the Osage, and it finally empties into the Missouri River near Jefferson City. Santa Claus must have been very poor this year, at least in this region, for he did not leave us very many things. Perhaps he had part of his goods blown away in the cyclone which passed through here last June. Anyway, it took all the money we had to build a new house. I do not want to see any more cyclones, for it is not much fun to have your house blown down while you are in it.

ROBERT W. M.

We never had a house blown down while we were in it, but we can imagine that it must be very disturbing to one's nerves. Was it not fortunate that it happened in June, and not in December? And did not Robert work like a beaver, or, better still, like a brave manly boy, while the new home was building? As for old Santa Claus, he may be more generous this year than he was last.

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WORTENDYKE, NEW JERSEY.