Chapter 2

Any one who had seen Biddy O'Dolan in the old hard days, when she was dirty and ragged and wretched and rude, and lived in the street, and slept in a cellar, would hardly have known her if he had seen her three weeks after she came to live with the Kennedys.

Biddy was not pretty, but she had a clear skin--now the dirt was washed off--and bright, earnest eyes. Now, too, she wore neat and pretty clothing. Her dark curly hair was nicely brushed, and tied with fresh ribbons. She had a small, pleasant room all for herself and her doll, and Miss Kennedy had taught her how to keep it in order.

Biddy had given a great deal of trouble to this gentle lady at first, because Biddy had many unpleasant habits. She used bad words; she did not seem to think it any harm to tell lies; she was not at all neat; she was sometimes willful and disobedient; she was often careless, broke dishes, tore her clothes, and put things out of order. These things were a much greater trouble to Miss Kennedy than Biddy knew. Miss Kennedy was so good and kind and true that Biddy's faults grieved her much, and carelessness and disorder were like pain to her, she was herself so neat and pure, like a fine white pearl.

But Miss Kennedy never forgot what poor Biddy's life had been, and Biddy was so affectionate and grateful, and tried so hard, that Miss Kennedy grew to love her dearly, and little by little Biddy conquered her old bad habits.

She did not see much of Mr. Kennedy, who was very busy, and was away a great deal. When she did see him, he had always a kind word and a pleasant smile for her, which made Biddy feel as if he took care of her.

Charley had brought her the doll, as Biddy said he would. But she could not make him come within a block of the house; and when he saw Biddy so fresh and clean in her pretty new garments, he had blushed and run away almost without speaking. She did not see much of him. She met him sometimes when she was out on an errand. The last time she had seen him he had looked very much pleased, but she had not been able to get him to speak to her. She thought him more bashful than ever.

Biddy did not forget Charley, or cease to wish he might have a nice home in the same house with her; but she was kept so busy with her easy but constant duties in waiting upon Miss Kennedy, who was also teaching her to read, that time flew very fast with Biddy, and it was midsummer when one day she went out on an errand, and--did not come back!

Miss Kennedy waited and wondered; and when it began to grow dark, and Biddy had not come back, she grew really alarmed. One of the servants had been sent out twice to look for Biddy, but in vain. At last, just as Miss Kennedy was about to send for him, Mr. Kennedy came in. As soon as he learned the cause of his sister's alarm, he comforted her in the very best way by starting out to search for Biddy himself.

He had not gone more than twenty steps before a boy, who had watched him come out, stopped him, and to his great surprise gave him a message from Biddy.

Mr. Kennedy ran back and spoke with his sister, and then went quickly away with the boy who had brought Biddy's message.

Now this is what had happened.

After Biddy had done her errand, she thought about Charley, and felt a great wish to see him. She was prettily dressed, and it came into her head that it would be a grand thing if she could walk by Mrs. Brown's stand, and see if the old woman would know her. For a long time after she ran away from Mrs. Brown, Biddy had been afraid to go near her old home for fear Mrs. Brown might claim her, and perhaps in some way be able to hide her from her new friends. But she had lost most of this fear, and now thought it would be great fun to step up to the stand and buy something, and see what the old woman would say.

The old days when she and Charley used to be so much together came into Biddy's mind as she walked along, swinging her parasol. She remembered a great many little things about him and his quiet kindnesses to her, which she had hardly noticed at the time, and she thought with new pleasure of Mr. Kennedy's words to her in the morning. He had passed her in the hall as he was going out, and had laid his hand on her head and said: "I think I shall be able to do something for Charley very soon. Will you like that, Biddy?" And Biddy, as usual, when her heart was very full, had not said a word. "I'll tell Charley," she thought to herself.

At last when there was only one more block to walk before reaching Mrs. Brown's stall, and Biddy was just beginning to think about what she should say to the old woman, she noticed an unusual stir down the street. People old and young were darting about, running around and forward, yelling at the tops of their voices; and there was another low hoarse sound Biddy could not make out. Nearest were some children running in her direction and screaming. Biddy stopped near a pile of empty boxes. She was full of wonder and fear. One of the children was Charley. He saw Biddy at the same moment she saw him, and it seemed as if he flew, he came toward her so fast. As he came up with her he grasped her arms, turned her around, and pushed her toward the boxes with one quick movement.

"Up wid 'ee, Biddy! Quick--oh, quick!" he called to her.

His white face and his piercing cry made Biddy obey him without a thought of asking why. She clutched at the boxes, and scrambled up, and Charley helped her by his hands and his shoulders. The boxes did not stand even, and they tottered as she climbed, but Charley leaned his little body against them, and stretched out his arms, and held them steady. Biddy was not a moment too quick. As she threw herself forward across the topmost box, the shuffle and clatter of many feet and the shouting and screaming seemed to be all around them. Biddy could not look down. She was so frightened, and had climbed so fast, she could hardly breathe, but she heard a snapping and crunching of jaws and a hoarse rattling breath beneath her. She was not able to think; she only clung with all her might, so dizzy that it seemed as if she and the boxes were swimming. Several shots were fired, and it seemed as if there were more noise and confusion than before. Then some one said,

"Poor children!"

Biddy felt herself lifted down. She was shaking all over. There were a great many people around her, but they didn't make so much noise now. She heard some one saying,

"It's Griffith's blood-hound--a good dog enough, too, if those idle scamps had let him alone. But it wouldn't stand no nonsense--that sort of dog never does. By heavens! it snapped that great chain like a pipe stem, and was after them like a tiger in no time!"

Then another voice said: "Did you see the little boy? He's almost the smallest little fellow you ever saw. But he was a hero. He saved the little girl's life; he gave up his own for it. I saw and heard the whole thing from the window overhead here, and I'll never see a braver deed done. I tell you, he's a hero; his father can be proud of him."

"_His_ father!" said another and rougher voice. "_That_ boy hain't got anyone belongin' to _him_. Take a look at his clothes--what's left of 'em from that brute's teeth! _He's_ never had too much to eat nor too much to wear, you kin just bet yer life on that. But you're right, mister; he _was_ a hero, an' no' mistake. He held as still as a mouse, an' with a grip like death, while that durned critter chawed up his legs."

Biddy was beginning to understand; so were the other children, the little boys and girls who had known and laughed at and nicknamed Charley all his silent, bashful life.

They stood around, gazing horror-struck at the dead hound that lay just beyond the curb-stone, and at Charley, lying all mangled and perfectly still in the arms of a policeman. A cart with cushions in it backed up to the curb, and just as the policeman was trying to move Charley so as to lay him on the cushions, he moaned and opened his eyes. He looked at the children. They saw this look, and crowded up to the cart, sobbing.

One of them exclaimed, "Oh, Charley, we'll never call ye 'Polly' no more!"

Another boy leaned close over Charley, and said, "The men sez as ye're a real hero, Charley; jist ye brace up!"

A faint smile passed over Charley's face. He turned his eyes, with the same kind, calm look in them, among the people, till he saw Biddy. Then the tired eyes flashed with joy. He saw that she was quite safe. He moved his hand a little toward her. Her lips quivered; she reached out her arms; and they placed her in the cart on the cushions by Charley's side. Just before it started, Biddy asked the little boy who had last spoken to Charley to go and tell Mr. Kennedy what had happened, and to say that she should stay with Charley till he got well. When Mr. Kennedy reached the hospital, Biddy was crying as if her heart would break, and poor, brave, tender, bashful little Charley had got quite well, and had gone home to be with his Father.

The shock and the sorrow of little Charley's death changed Biddy very much. It was long before Mr. and Miss Kennedy could persuade her that she was not to blame for it. It seemed to the poor child as if she had been cruel to climb into safety, leaving Charley to such a fate. But she had really not been at all to blame. She had obeyed Charley's startling and earnest cry, without thinking, or even having time to think, until it was too late to act in any other way.

After a time the sharpness of this sorrow passed away, and the thought of Charley became full of comfort and help to Biddy. As she grew older she could understand that if Charley had lived, he could not have been very happy, he was so feeble, and shrank from people so much. And she could feel, if she did not understand, that his death was a noble one, an act of love so simple and so whole that it was a gift, the gift of a great example, helping every one who knew of it to be more brave and true.

Biddy lived on with the Kennedys, and she has helped Mr. Kennedy from time to time to find out little children as wretched as she once was. In this way she has already been the means of getting six poor children into good homes, where they have a chance to learn how to live. She remembers so well her sad childhood that she understands, even better than you or I would, how to speak to and help these poor children when they first begin to do better, and get so discouraged because their old bad habits pull them down, and make it hard for them to do well. Biddy goes to see them, and talks with them so kindly, and with so much patience and love, that they are comforted and ready to try harder than ever. When she tells them that she was once just as dirty and rough and naughty as they have ever been, and they see how sweet and good she has become, it fills them with courage and hope. You can very well suppose that Biddy did not always find it an easy thing to help these children. Perhaps you think that any little girl would jump at the chance of being taken from the street and put in a good and pleasant home. Biddy thought so, until she tried to help Katy Kegan. She was the second little girl Biddy found for Mr. Kennedy. Biddy had known Katy Kegan all her life, and liked her better than any other little girl when they used to be living on the street. Yet when Biddy became better off, and tried to make things just as nice for Katy, that little girl didn't see it as Biddy did at all, and gave her more care and worry than all the other five. I'll tell you something about this.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

I AM THE LAD IN THE BLUE AND WHITE.

BY MARY A. BARR.

I am the lad in the blue and white-- Sing hey! the merry sailor boy. My head is steady, my eyes are bright, My hand is ready, my step is light, My brave little heart, all right, all right-- Sing ho! the merry sailor boy.

I am the lad in the blue and white-- Sing hey! the merry sailor boy. I sit in the shrouds when the soft winds blow, The light waves rock me to and fro; I run up aloft or down below-- Sing ho! the ready sailor boy.

I am the lad in the blue and white-- Sing ho! the merry sailor boy. When the skies are blue and the sea is calm, The air is full of spice and balm, And the shore is set with shadowy palm, Oh, glad is the merry sailor boy!

"What will you do when the great winds blow? What will you do, my sailor boy?"-- When great winds blow, and are icy cold, Never you fear, for my heart is bold: I'll watch my captain, do what I'm told-- Sing ho! the ready sailor boy.

"If a foe should come--in such a plight, What would you do, brave sailor boy?"-- Run up the "Stars and Stripes" in his sight, Stand by my captain, wrong or right, And give the foe an up-and-down fight-- Sing ho! the gallant sailor boy.

I am the lad in the blue and white-- Sing hey! the merry sailor boy. I carry my country's flag and name; I never will do her wrong or shame; I'll fight her battles and share her fame-- Sing ho! the gallant sailor boy.

EVERETT STATION, GEORGIA.

I want to tell you about a pet squirrel I had. My uncle was having some trees cut down, when the men found three young squirrels in one of them. One of the squirrels got killed, and one ran away, but my uncle caught the other and put it in his pocket, and forgot all about it. After a while he put his hand in his pocket for something, and the squirrel bit him. We tamed it, and it would run all over the trees in the yard, until one day some boys passing by shot it, thinking it was wild. My little brother cried, and I came near crying too. We buried it in the flower garden.

CHESLY B. HOWARD, JUN.

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_February. 15, 1880_.

I am nine years old. I was born in Boston, but for the last three years I have been living on a farm in Lakeville, Massachusetts. There are a number of lakes near here, and some of them have long Indian names, such as Assawampsett and Quiticus. Yesterday was a warm, spring-like day, and I saw two robins, and I heard the bluebirds singing.

LOUIS W. CLARK.

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MACHIAS, MAINE.

I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I have a summer-house, and in the summer I found a little humming-bird, with its wing broken, all tangled up in the flowers. I took it into the house, and fed it. It ate sugar and water. It had a funny little narrow tongue, and it put it out when it ate. It lived in the house two days, and then it died.

NELLIE LONGFELLOW (8 years old).

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SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA.

My papa told me of a pretty way to designate the long months from the short ones. He learned it from a little girl when he was travelling in Oregon, and I think a good many little readers of YOUNG PEOPLE might be pleased with it. This is the way: close your hand, and point out the knuckle of the forefinger for January, and the depression between that and the middle knuckle for February. The middle knuckle designates March, and the next depression April; and so on to the small knuckle, which stands for July. Then go back to the forefinger for August, and proceed as before until all the months are named. It will be found that all the short ones fall between the fingers, while the knuckles stand for the long ones.

PHEBE C. BROWN.

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PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

I want to tell you about a young alligator and a water turtle papa had. He kept the turtle in the cellar, and the alligator in an earthen tank; but when it came winter he put that in the cellar too, in a tight box with air-holes. Some time afterward he went to look at the turtle and the alligator, and they had both disappeared. Where do you think they could have gone?

PUSS.

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DIXON SPRING, TENNESSEE, _February 18_.

I am a subscriber to YOUNG PEOPLE, and I like it very much. I am ten years old. The creeks are in the way, so I can not go to school now, but I will go in the spring. Some of our flowers are in full bloom, and the weather is very pleasant. But we had a snow-storm last week, and I enjoyed it so much!

FANNIE M. YOUNG.

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PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

I know some little girls who live in the country. They set a little table in the yard, and put on it tin dishes with chicken food in them. Then they ring a toy bell, and the chickens have learned to come and stand round the table and eat. If a chicken hops on the table, it is not allowed to eat any more, and in this way they are taught to behave very nicely.

SADIE.

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DECORAH, IOWA.

I am a little Norwegian girl, though I was born in America. I am twelve years old. Not all the Norwegian ships in which Leif Ericsson and his company sailed to America were as small as the one described in "Ships Past and Present," in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 14, for one of them had sixty men and five women on board. Some of the ancient Norwegian ships were quite large. I have read in _Traditions of Norwegian Kings_, by Snorro Sturrleson, about _Ormen Lange_ (the Long Serpent), a large and handsome ship which belonged to King Olaf Tryggveson. That part of the keel which touched the ground when the ship was being built measured 112 feet. The ship carried a crew of more than 600 men. It was Leif Ericsson, not Olaf Ericsson, who sailed to America.

E.

Tryggveson, who reigned in Norway A.D. 995-1000, had ships which were the wonder of the North. His largest war ship was the _Long Serpent_, supposed to be of the size of a frigate of forty-five guns. In a great sea-fight with the Kings of Denmark and Sweden, King Olaf Tryggveson was conquered, and is said to have sprung overboard from the famous _Long Serpent_ into a watery grave.

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DANVILLE, ILLINOIS.

Here is a recipe that some little girl may like to try. Two table-spoonfuls sugar; one table-spoonful butter; one table-spoonful milk; one well-beaten egg; four atoms of cream of tartar; two atoms of soda; flour enough to make a batter. You must get cook or mamma to measure the atoms. This recipe will make four little patty-pans of cake, and there will be some batter left to thicken for cookies. I cut out the cookies with mamma's thimble.

PUSS HUNTER.

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WASHINGTON, D. C.

In our parlor there is a little mouse that has a hole in one corner of the fire-place. Before I fed it it was quite tame, and would run all about the room. I feed it now, and it only comes to get the crumbs I put close by its hole. Can any one among your correspondents tell me how to tame it?

E. L. M.

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EAST HAVEN, CONNECTICUT.

I have a rabbit, kitten, parrot, dog, canary, and a pair of chickens. I had a crow, but it died. I have a burying-ground for my pets, and in it there is the poor crow, a dog, two bantams, and seven canaries.

SUSIE D. B.

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BUFFALO, NEW YORK.

I want to tell you about my dog Joe. He is a setter. He does a great many capers. He watches for the boy who brings the evening paper, and takes it, and brings it up stairs to us. He plays hide-and-seek with me, and sometimes I tie a rope to his collar, and he draws me on my skates. How fast we do go! One day I hitched him to a sled for the first time, and he did not know what to make of it. He ran a little way, and then tipped me into a snow-bank, and made for home.

A. O. THAYER.

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BARTON, MARYLAND.

I had a pair of pet rabbits which I prized very much. Papa built a hutch for them, and they enjoyed their home very much. I fed them with clover, cabbage, and apples. Sometimes I gave them a dish of sweet milk to drink. They were growing so nice; but we had an old cat which I suppose thought if the rabbits were out of the way, she would get all the milk herself. One morning I fed them, and forgot to give Spiney her milk. (That was the old cat's name.) So she went down to the hutch and watched them drink their milk. When they had finished, they popped their little heads out between the bars. Old Spiney sprang on them, and that was the last of my poor rabbits.

MAGGIE BERMINGHAM (10 years).

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Bertha A. F. saw the bluebirds at Sag Harbor, Long Island, on the day before St. Valentine's, and on February 20 she picked willow "pussies." O. T. Mason says he found the "pussies" in Medway, Massachusetts, as early as January 18, but he neglected to report them.

* * * * *

LEON M. F.--If you dampen the skin under the feathers with water, and sprinkle on it a little finely pulverized sulphur, your pigeons will probably be relieved.

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AGGIE R. H.--Nourmahal, afterward called Nourjehan, or "Light of the World," was the wife of Selim, son of Akbar, Mogul Emperor of Hindostan. Selim succeeded his father in 1605, and was henceforth known as Jehanghir, or "Conqueror of the World." In the early part of his reign Selim was intemperate and cruel, but after his marriage with the beautiful Nourmahal his conduct greatly improved. Her influence over her husband was very great. He took no step without consulting her, and as she was an extraordinary and accomplished woman, her advice was always wise and judicious. Jehanghir died in 1627, and was succeeded by his son Shah Jehan, who was the father of Aurungzebe, whose beautiful daughter, Lalla Rookh, is the heroine of Moore's poem. The historical facts concerning the beautiful Nourmahal are very meagre, but a few glimpses into her life are given in the notes to the "Vale of Cashmere," the last story in _Lalla Rookh_.

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W. CLARENCE.--To make a kite, the sticks must first be tied tightly and firmly together in the centre. A string is then put round the outside. The end of each stick should be notched to hold the string in place. The paper, which should be thin and tough, is now pasted on. A tail of pieces of paper or cloth tied at intervals in a string must be fastened at the bottom to balance the kite in the wind. The length of the tail depends on the size of the kite.

* * * * *

W. F. B.--O. N. T. is simply a trade-mark, and stands for "our new thread."

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E. L. C.--There are so many French magazines, it is difficult to say which is the best. The _Revue des Deux Mondes_ has a high literary character. Jewett's Spiers's French-and-English Dictionary is the best for ordinary use. Translating is not often remunerative.

* * * * *

"PATRIOTIC BOYS."--Scholarships, subject to certain conditions, can be obtained at nearly any college in the United States.

* * * * *

JOHNNY P.--The long-bow was the English national weapon in early times. It was originally used by the Norse tribes, and was brought into Western Europe by Rollo, first Duke of Normandy, a direct ancestor of William the Conqueror. When the Normans invaded England they carried the long-bow with them, and as the Saxons had no weapon so powerful, they readily adopted it. The proper length of the long-bow, which was made of yew or ash, was the height of the archer who used it. The largest ones, however, were six feet long, and as the arrow was always half the length of the bow, the longest arrows measured three feet, which is just a cloth yard. They were therefore given the name of "cloth-yard shaft." The arrows were made of oak, ash, or yew. They were tipped with steel, and ornamented at the other end with three gray goose feathers, from whence comes the name of "gray-goose shaft," usually applied to those arrows which were shorter than the cloth yard measure. The arrow or bolt of the cross-bow, or arbalast, was also tipped with steel, and varied in length according to the size of the cross-bow.

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"SUBSCRIBER," NEW YORK.--It is not easy to stop a canary from moulting. The best way to treat it is to feed it with nothing but rapeseed, and two or three times a week give it a slice of hard-boiled egg. It should have plenty of fresh drinking water, in which you might put every morning a few drops of "bird tonic," which can be purchased at any bird store. Do not hang the cage in a very hot room.

* * * * *

KATE WILLIAMSON.--Your letter was very gratifying. Tell your little friend Madeleine we would be glad to receive a French letter from her.

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Favors are received from Matthew Laflin, Clyde L. Kimball, Julia W., Florence D., Nettie Denniston, Emma Barnwell, Harry Moore, J. M. Brennan, Della L. G., George W. Herbert, C. L. C., S. Engle, Edward G., A. H. Ellard, Mary Valentine, Julia Grace T., Katie C. Yorke, Franklin J. Kaufman, Charles A. H., W. K. M., J. O. F., John L. Stillman, James A. S., George L. Bannister, Elwyn A. S., Dannie C. Douglass, Hattie H., Robert A. A., Herbert D. Stafford, Clarkie W. Lockwood, Dwight Ruggles.

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Correct answers to puzzles are received from Anna and Charles O., Lulu Pearce, S. G. Rosenbaum, L. Mahler, E. M. Devoe, C. W. Hanner, Harry Austin, F. M. Richards, G. K. MacNaught, J. R. Glen, Addie Allen, "Puss," James Smith, Peter Slane, John B. Whitlock, Gordon Shelby, "Subscriber," Henry J. L., Mary, Sadie, E. Allen Cushing, Ernest B. Allen, E., Jack Gladwin, Lena E. S., Harry L. A., Lillie V. S., Allen N., Bertha A. F., G. C. Meyer, May Shepard, Clara B. C., Essie B.

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No. 1.

NUMERICAL CHARADE.

I am composed of 14 letters. My 9, 10, 7 is a tavern. My 12, 9, 13, 14 is a heap. My 6, 7, 8 is an insect. My 11, 10, 14 is a unit. My 1, 6, 4, 5 is to throw. My 4, 2, 10, 3, 14, 8 is a short poem. My whole is a city in Europe.

CHESTER B. F.

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No. 2.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

A measure of quantity. A valediction. A public speaker. A Jewish prophet. A well-known liquid. A nobleman. A town in Texas. Answer.--Two famous painters.

CHARLES L. B.

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No. 3.

ENIGMA.

My first is in barn, but not in shed. My second is in green, but not in red. My third is in stone, but not in brick. My fourth is in branch, but not in stick. My fifth is in head, but not in feet. My whole is something good to eat.

MARY.

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No. 4.

WORD SQUARE.

First, not cold. Second, a surface. Third, true. Fourth, masculine.

M. L.

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No. 5.

NUMERICAL CHARADE.

I am composed of 32 letters. My 13, 22, 8, 12 is a wild animal. My 9, 3, 21 is a tree. My 19, 8, 9, 17 is not hard. My 16, 3, 6 is what we all must do. My 28, 14, 11 is what most all of us can do. My 4, 23, 29, 2 is a number. My 7, 20, 15 is a large body of water. My 26, 27, 15, 16, 6, 21 is a school-book. My 32, 24, 5, 10, 15, 12 is a ruler of a country. My 1, 8, 18 is an adverb. My 25, 15, 30, 31 is used for seasoning. My whole is a proverb.

MARY E. N. (9 years).

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No. 6.

DIAMOND PUZZLE.

A consonant. A tribe of Indians. A long-legged bird. A period of time. A consonant.

E. S. C. M.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN NO. 16.

No. 1.

Charles Dickens

No. 2.

H A I L A N N A I N N S L A S T

No. 3.

Bryant.

No. 4.

Bonaparte.

No. 5.

B el L E br O R etur N L ea D I ndig O N u N

Berlin, London.

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BROKEN RHYMES.

Scold, cold, old. Skate, Kate, ate. Brink, rink, ink. Trice, rice, ice. Crash, rash, ash. Sledge, ledge, edge.

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"=SWEET LITTLE CHERUB=," "Kiss and make it up," "Bees in the Clover," 35c. each. Dodworth's "New Knickerbocker," with vocal parts, 40c.; Dodworth's "New Court" Quadrille, 50c.

FREDERICK BLUME, 861 Broadway.

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.

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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.

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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._

BOOKS FOR YOUNG MEN.

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Character.

Character. By SAMUEL SMILES. 12mo, Cloth, $1.00.

It is, in design and execution, more like his "Self-Help" than any of his other works. Mr. Smiles always writes pleasantly, but he writes best when he is telling anecdotes, and using them to enforce a moral that he is too wise to preach about, although he is not afraid to state it plainly. By means of it "Self-Help" at once became a standard book, and "Character" is, in its way, quite as good as "Self-Help." It is a wonderful storehouse of anecdotes and biographical illustrations.--_Examiner_, London.

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Self-Help.

Self-Help; with Illustrations of Character, Conduct, and Perseverance. By SAMUEL SMILES. New Edition, Revised and Enlarged. 12mo, Cloth, $1.00.

The writings of Samuel Smiles are a valuable aid in the education of boys. His style seems to have been constructed entirely for their tastes; his topics are admirably selected, and his mode of communicating excellent lessons of enterprise, truth, and self-reliance might be called insidious and ensnaring if these words did not convey an idea which is only applicable to lessons of an opposite character and tendency taught in the same attractive style. The popularity of this book, "Self-Help," abroad has made it a powerful instrument of good, and many an English boy has risen from its perusal determined that his life will be moulded after that of some of those set before him in this volume. It was written for the youth of another country, but its wealth of instruction has been recognized by its translation into more than one European language, and it is not too much to predict for it a popularity among American boys.--_N. Y. World._

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Thrift.

Thrift. By SAMUEL SMILES. 12mo, Cloth, $1.00.

The mechanic, farmer, apprentice, clerk, merchant, and a large circle of readers outside of these classes will find in the volume a wide range of counsel and advice, presented in perspicuous language, and marked throughout by vigorous good sense; and who, while deriving from it useful lessons for the guidance of their personal affairs, will also be imbibing valuable instruction in an important branch of political economy. We wish it could be placed in the hands of all our youth--especially those who expect to be merchants, artisans, or farmers.--_Christian Intelligencer_, N. Y.

In this useful and sensible work, which should be in the hands of all classes of readers, especially of those whose means are slender, the author does for private economy what Smith and Ricardo and Bastiat have done for national economy. * * * The one step which separates civilization from savagery--which renders civilization possible--is labor done in excess of immediate necessity. * * * To inculcate this most necessary and most homely of all virtues, we have met with no better teacher than this book.--_N. Y. World._

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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._

THE DARWINOGRAM.

The object of this game is to discover from what prehistoric animal you are descended. You select any one of the numbers, and follow the line to which it belongs with the point of a pencil to the other end, and there you will find your original ancestor, according to the theory of Mr. Darwin. It may prove to be a butterfly, or it may prove to be a goose.

THE LITTLE SPANISH DANCER.

This lively little fellow is very easily made. Take an old kid glove and cut off the fingers--this is for the foundation. Upon it you may sew any bits of bright silk or cloth you like to look like a jacket, and hide the doubled-up fingers. Make two little mittens, and two little socks with stuffed toes, remembering to stuff one sock higher than the other, as your forefinger is shorter than your middle finger, and you want your dancer to have both legs the same size. After dressing up your hand to your satisfaction, paint on the back of the wrist a face with water-colors, mixing a little gum with them if they will not "lay," and the little Spaniard is ready to dance as long as it pleases you.

CHARADE.

My whole most mischievous appears; Yet, if I you offend, Cut off my first, and swiftly will You bring me to my end.

Freed from my last, I'm gayly off, Yet would you me detain; Cut off my last, and, lo! for time Without end I'll remain.

My first the teamster names his nag That helps to draw the load, As toward my last their journey tends Along the country road.

When, eagerly, we are my first, My last to then pursue, We're anxious most to shun my whole, While yet my whole we do.

SPRING SPORTS--TWO EPISODES OF "TOP-TIME."

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, March 9, 1880, by Various