Part 2

"To be sure _I_ do; but _you_ must go to the great white Stork who lives in the ruins over there, and he will tell you where it is, and how to get there too. Come now with me, and I will find you some sweet ripe dew-berries."

The Princess tripped by the Sunbeam's side, and at last they came to the ruins. Then she knocked at the door, but the Sunbeam jumped through the window right down upon the Papa Stork's shoulder.

"Ah! you are welcome, my dear Sunbeam--take a chair, I pray," said the Papa Stork, gravely.

"So I will; but first send some one to open the door, for a sweet little princess knocks there to gain admission."

Mr. Stork opened the door himself, and led little Sunnylocks in, who said,

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Stork, I bring you a gift of sweet ripe dew-berries which the Sunbeam found, and I gathered fresh from the grass this morning."

"We are much obliged, my dear, and will accept them gratefully," said Mrs. Stork; "and now thou and the Sunbeam will stay and take breakfast with us, and then thou mayst go upon thy journey."

Sunnylocks thanked Mrs. Stork, and after she had eaten her breakfast she inquired the way to Fairy-Land.

"Why, I thought every bird and beast and flower knew the way. But then thou art neither bird nor beast nor flower, consequently thou canst not know the way. Fairy-Land lies on the other side of the moon."

"Alas! alas! how can I get there, then?" said the little Princess, sadly.

"Cheer up thy heart, my pretty maiden, for I will direct thee to one who will take thee to Fairy-Land if thou art as brave as thou art fair," said Mr. Stork.

"I fear nothing," cried the Princess, "and will brave all dangers to reach dear Fairy-Land."

"Then thou must go three days' journey through this wood, when thou wilt come to a range of mountains; climb that one whose head is crowned with clouds, and there, upon a projecting cliff, stands King Eagle's castle. He alone can take thee to Fairy-Land."

The Princess then kissed the Storks all round, and the Sunbeam kissed her, after which they ran upon their journey, seeking berries, and playing hide-and-seek the whole day long.

At last night came, and Sunnylocks lay down beneath an old oak-tree. Here she slept sweetly until the Sunbeam coaxed a frolicking Breeze Fairy to shake some dew-drops down upon her lovely face. That made her laugh and shake her golden curls, and then she ran a race with them, until she was quite tired out, when they caught and kissed her.

Presently they met a merry little Robin-Redbreast, who was busy getting his breakfast, and he invited them to sit down and have some too, which they accordingly did; and Robin had a long story to tell of how a wicked white owl had eaten a dear little wren who was his sweet companion.

When he had finished, the Sunbeam vowed he would tease that owl all day, and so did the Breeze Fairy.

The Princess now thanked the Robin, who sang her a sweet song, and even accompanied her a little way; then they parted, and Sunnylocks ran gayly on her journey.

Just at sunset she found a lovely bank of white violets, which, of course you know, are the Fairy Queen's own flowers, shielded by her magic power from all evil; consequently on them Sunnylocks slept sweetly all that night.

When she awoke she looked about for the Sunbeam, but neither he nor the Breeze Fairy was to be seen; so she ate her breakfast, and then began her last day's journey.

At last she reached the mountains, but as it was fast growing dark, she began to search for a resting-place. Now as she looked uncertainly about her, a beautiful long-eared Rabbit came out of a little cave in the mountain-side, and asked her what she sought.

"For a place to pass the night, madam," said the Princess Sunnylocks.

"Come in and sleep in my pretty house. There is a soft bed in the warmest corner, and there is new fruit for your supper," replied the grave gray Rabbit.

The Princess readily consented, and was soon asleep in the Rabbit's cozy bed. The next morning, after thanking the Rabbit for her kindness, she began her journey again; but the mountain was rough and steep, so she was forced to travel very slowly now; but as she clambered wearily up, out jumped Sunbeam, and kissed her on both cheeks before she could say, "Oh!"

"Where have you been, you darling Sunbeam?" cried she, clapping both her hands.

"Oh, I have had such a glorious time! We killed the owl, and then I ran down into a great city, where a bad man was beating his poor horse, and I gave him such a stroke right on his head that all the people cried: 'He is dead! he is dead! A sun-stroke, _poor_ man! Take him to the hospital!' And then all the papas and mammas looked at the tell-tale mercury, and forbade their boys to play ball that day."

"Ah, you naughty Sunbeam!" cried the little Princess--"not naughty for hurting the bad man, but for getting all the little boys shut up."

At that the Sunbeam laughed, and said, "Oh, that did not matter; most of them slipped away, anyhow; boys do do such things, you know," he added, gravely.

"What else did you do?" asked Sunnylocks.

"Oh, I kissed all the little girls I met, and I freckled the runaway boys, and I teased all the fat people, and I made a crying baby laugh by jumping on the wall, and I went into the King's palace and kissed the Queen before his face, and I did ever so many things besides."

"And now you have come to help me to Fairy-Land," said the little Princess, gayly.

"Yes, and I might have carried you there, only I was afraid my lady mamma would set me to work again," laughingly said the Sunbeam.

"You are a lazy fellow," said sweet Sunnylocks; and then they went on, the Princess laughing gayly at his freaks, for never did Sunbeam behave so wildly before or since. In fact, he performed so many wonderful feats that Sunnylocks never felt tired once, and was surprised when she found herself fairly in the Eagle's castle, and standing before that monarch himself.

He listened gravely to all her entreaties to take her to Fairy-Land, and then he stretched his mighty pinions, and bade her follow him.

This both the Princess and the Sunbeam did, gliding swiftly down the mountain-side until they reached Cloud-Land, where the Eagle bade her step into a tiny skiff made of a fleecy cloud.

No sooner had she done so than away it floated, King Eagle just a little in advance, and the Sunbeam making beautiful rainbows over it, just to amuse himself and her.

Soon the skiff moored in a lovely arbor, where the water made sweet music as it rippled by the amber steps, up which the Princess now went alone, for the Sunbeam fled back to the mountain-side again, as he was afraid his lady mamma would set him to work.

And now if you want to know what Fairy-Land looks like, you just ask your baby brother or sister the first time you see them smiling in their sleep, and they will tell you; for only babies and angels have the right words to describe it with.

All I know is that Sunnylocks was led to the palace of the Fairy Queen, which is built of all the lovely actions which are unheeded in this world of ours, and that she dropped upon her knees and said:

"Dear Fairy Queen, the Sunbeam saw my beautiful mamma's picture, and he said she was so lovely that she must have come to Fairy-Land. _Oh, if she has, please give her to me, for I want her--oh, so much!_" and little Sunnylocks stretched out her arms as though to clasp her dear mamma in them.

"Dear child," said the Fairy Queen, "thy mother is not here; she went to the Land of the Blessed to dwell; but be thou of good cheer, and I will send thee thither also." And as she spoke she came down from her gleaming throne, and taking Sunnylocks by the hand, she led her to the shore of the mighty Ocean Space.

Here she waved her magic wand, and instantly a bark made of a purple cloud, with golden masts and rosy sails, drifted swiftly to the shore; and after a loving farewell, Sunnylocks was borne by it onward, and still onward.

At last she stepped upon a land whose glory far exceeded that of all God's other worlds; and as she stood upon the wondrous shore, great bands of little children came singing down to meet her, led by One beyond all beautiful, who smiled upon them as they pressed about His steps.

Now when Sunnylocks saw the beauty of the children, and perceived that He who walked with them was indeed the King, she feared _she_ would not be received; but He stooped down, and set His seal upon her brow, while the children robed her in such garments as they wore, and then the great King led her toward a lovely lady seated on the ocean's shore, as though she watched for some one.

But as soon as Sunnylocks beheld her lovely face, she cried, "My beautiful mamma!" and this time the lips _did_ say, "My darling child," and the white arms _did_ fold her closely to her breast; and all the children rejoiced with great joy because Sunnylocks had found her dear mamma, and come to dwell forever with them.

"But what became of the runaway Sunbeam?"

Well, when the Sun, his papa, discovered that he was gone, he sent six of his brothers to catch and bring him back; but the little Sunbeam was too fleet for them, for before they could even touch him, he jumped right into the Lady Moon's arms, and as he was the very littlest and the very youngest Sunbeam, it was not likely his mamma would send him back to be punished.

So the six little Sunbeams went back, and standing before their papa, with their little fingers in their sweet little mouths, they all told him what the Lady Moon had said.

At that the Sun got into a tremendous passion, and hid himself and all the little Sunbeams behind some ugly clouds for three whole days; and when he next came out, the astronomers declared they saw dark spots upon his face.

THE SURPRISING EXPERIENCE OF BEN BUTTLES.

BY FRANK H. CONVERSE.

Part Second.

Ben Buttles was a real mother boy; that is, he was in his sixteenth year, yet did not think himself too old to love and obey his mother, or care for her comfort. It is always a bad sign when a boy begins to outgrow one or both of his parents.

So, immediately after his arrival in Savannah, Ben borrowed the mate's writing materials, and wrote to Mrs. Buttles, to relieve the anxiety he knew she must be feeling, despite his telegram.

Ben's educational advantages had been limited, though I am glad to say he made the most of such as he had had. Hence I trust that better-educated boys will excuse the mistakes they may see in his letter. Poor Ben had never seen such a book as _The Polite Letter-Writer_ in his whole life. But he had read the late Captain Buttles's old log-books over and over again, and looking upon them admiringly as specimens of high literary art, he had, perhaps without knowing it, imitated their short and pithy sentences in this almost the first letter he had ever written. And I am not sure that most business men, particularly editors, would object if some of their correspondents could tell their story as clearly in as few words. This is a copy of the epistle:

"SAVANAR, _October_ 29, 187-.

"MY DEAR MOTHER,--I take My pen in hand To ashure you I am safe, et ceterer. tell Jim Studley i cort a hollibut nigh the braking shole I gess would way 200. Then got under way for Home about 6 pm with Thretning wether. It come on to Blow with hevy sqwalls from n,n,w to n. a terble cross sea Runnin. carried away my Starbord ore and had to lay to a Drag. at 11 pm Colided with brig _calipso_ laying to Making a complete reck Of the Dory. got Abord the Brig by the Main chanils Arriving at savanar Oct 28. Thay are verry Kind. Capn adams who cent the Tellygraft says there is nothing Bound north and to stay abord til We are loded for boston. he will pay me saylor wages when i Go back. The mate has gave Me a starch shirt, a hat Shoose and socks. And the sekond mate a soot of Blue close wich Is a little wore. And flanils. i was never Drest so Nice. I am Looking for a good paing job Ashore while i am hear. perhaps i can Make a Big strik and Bring home the munny to pay up the Morgige. I must Now close with love to All inquiring frends Yore duttifle sun

"BEN B."

Having mailed this remarkable document, Ben strolled through the streets, enjoying the novelty as only a boy can who has never been ten miles from home in his whole life.

"Why, what a high steeple!" said Ben to himself, as he stopped below the Cotton Exchange, and gazed admiringly at the lofty but slender spire of the handsome church directly opposite.

Now it is a curious fact that if you stand still in the street, and begin to look intently at anything, some one else is sure to stop and stare in the same direction, as though people generally had an interrogation point for a sort of mental birth-mark. And Ben had hardly fixed his gaze on the tall spire, when two gentlemen came to a halt and began to look the same way.

"I thought you took the contract to regild the ball and arrow up there, Miles," Ben finally heard one of them say, with a nod of his head toward the weather-vane.

"So I did," returned Mr. Miles, who was a "boss" painter, "and a nice fix I'm in about it, too."

"How so?" asked the other, as, bringing his gaze earthward, he leaned up against the iron fence, and lit a cigar.

"Well," answered Mr. Miles, following his friend's example, "it's this way: I contracted to have the thing done for so much. I supposed, of course, that the vane could be sent down, like any other, and gilded, and had my best man go up to see to it. He worked at the nuts and bolts that hold it for 'most half a day; then he came down all of a shake, and says the thing can't be done, everything has rusted so, and that if it can't be regilded where it is, it can't be done at all. _He_ won't be hired to go up there again, and I can't find any one hereabouts that _will_ try it for love or money. I even telegraphed to New York for Ferguson, the steeple-climber, offered to pay expenses, and give him seventy-five dollars to boot; but he is engaged two months ahead. I'd give a hundred and fifty dollars to-day," said Mr. Miles, smoking vigorously, "to any one who would shin up there and do the job; for though it isn't an easy thing, I know it _can_ be done."

"Say two hundred, and I'm your man," suddenly exclaimed Ben, who had been listening, carelessly at first, then eagerly. Two hundred dollars would clear the incumbrance from the little brown house. Once he had climbed the pole of the signal-staff on Covert Point, and rove off the halyards almost a hundred and fifty feet from the ground, and was glad to get five dollars for doing it. But then, as Mrs. Buttles said, "Ben was a dretful ventur'some creetur."

Mr. Miles was a man of few words. He eagerly grasped at this unexpected straw.

"If you mean business," he said, eying Ben's self-reliant face approvingly, "come to the church to-morrow morning early, and I will show you what is to be done."

Ben nodded, and made his way back to the _Calypso_.

"I want to borrow a piece of spare running gear, sir," he said to the mate on the following morning.

"Take all you want," was the answer.

Long before Mr. Miles had made his appearance at the church, Ben was in the church tower, with the running gear coiled over his shoulder, and a coil of spun yarn in the bosom of his blue shirt. Climbing upward over cobwebbed cross-beams and girders, he found himself under the four narrow skylights of heavy ground glass that dimly lighted the narrow interior of the spire. Through one of these, which was partly open, Ben thrust his neck and shoulders. About twenty feet above him the tapering spire ended in a great ball, through which rose the tall iron "spindle," surmounted by the vane in the shape of an arrow. Two parts of a knotted rope were twisted around the spindle above the ball, and brought down through the skylight. This had served Mr. Miles's workman in lieu of ladder. Ben's head and heart failed for one brief moment, as he looked upward, and for the first time began to realize the magnitude of his task. Only for a moment, though.

"It's for mother's sake," he said, softly, to himself, and the thought strengthened his heart and steadied his nerves.

By this time Mr. Miles had clambered up to a rude scaffolding under the open skylight with a basket containing a can of oil size and some large "books" of gold-leaf. He then showed Ben how to apply the leaf to the size, and cautioned him not to fall, which Ben gravely assured him he should try very hard not to do.

In one end of his coil of light but strong gear Ben had tied a running bowline. This he threw over his shoulder, and taking off his shoes, began his perilous ascent.

It was easy enough to reach the spindle by the knotted rope-ladder. Then came the tug of war. Up the spindle, which shook and swayed, the courageous boy crept, until, breathless and almost exhausted, he threw his arms over the vane itself, and for the first time ventured to look out and downward.

A toy-city, with Lilliputian people moving through the little streets, lay beneath him. Beyond, the Savannah River like a narrow ribbon wound through the low-lying rice fields until it reached the distant sea, which lay hazily indistinct against the horizon. The view was sublimely beautiful, but Ben's head began to swim, and he bethought himself of his task.

Casting a few feet of the coil around the spindle and over the vane, so that the bowline should hang properly, Ben called to Mr. Miles to make the end well fast. Then lifting himself by his arms, he slipped his legs through the loop and sat suspended between earth and sky. Lowering his piece of spun yarn to Mr. Miles, he received a bit of stout ratlin stuff, with which he rigged a foot-rope (as you see them under the yards of a ship) on the vane, which was about nine feet long. Mr. Miles then sent him up a basket with the gilding material, which Ben made fast to the vane. Then, with great difficulty, getting on to the foot-rope, upon which he could only _sit_--for he dared not stand--he "squirmed" himself out to its extreme limit, and began his work.

Ah me! what a terrible task it was! The sun beat down on his head with terrible force as it rose higher in the heavens. He could only use one hand to work with, the other being employed in holding on. An occasional breath of air would set the arrow in motion, and send his heart into his mouth at the same time. Every bone in him ached, his head was confused and dizzy--he dared not look directly down for his life. But he kept doggedly at his work all day long, with the one thought uppermost in his mind, "It's for mother's sake," and as the watchman in the neighboring church tower called out, "Six o'clock, 'n' all's well" (for this is one of the old usages of the city), Ben put the last touch of gilding on the point of the arrow.

Changing back to the bowline, Ben then cast off the ends of the foot-rope, while a cheer came faintly up to his ears from the great crowd which had gathered in the square beneath, as they knew the little Yankee--as they called him--had completed his work. Hugging the spindle tightly, Ben drew himself out of the bowline, threw it off from the vane, and slid rapidly down the swaying rod. Down the knotted rope he sped, past Mr. Miles, who began to congratulate him, down by beam and ladder and winding stair, until he reached the solid earth. And then, as a great shout went up from the lookers-on, Ben for the first and only time in his whole life fainted away. But a little cold water, and the touch of the roll of crisp greenbacks which were counted out by the enthusiastic Mr. Miles, quickly restored Ben to himself, and he returned to the _Calypso_ a hero.

The city papers made honorable mention of the "gallant young New-Englander," and one lady, if I remember rightly, immortalized the daring feat in a poem called "The Arrow and the Ball."

The passage back to Boston was a quick one, and Ben was once more clasped in his mother's arms, narrating the story of his adventures.

"But I wouldn't undertake such a climb again," said Ben, as he carefully folded away the cancelled mortgage, with its indorsement of paid-up principal and interest, "for all the money in Savannah."

"I hope not, Benny dear," returned Mrs. Buttles, with a tearful shake of her head; "but I should be most afraid to resk it--you're sech a dretful ventur'some creetur."

AN ENGLISH PUG.

BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.

An English Pug only six weeks old To a wealthy lady one day was sold For _sixty-five dollars_. Bless me! no! Yes, yes, my dears, it was really so.

To learn good manners this Pug was sent To an excellent school on the Continent, Where the price per quarter you'd never guess Was _twenty dollars_! No more nor less.

And when the lady made up her mind To cross the ocean, nor leave behind Her pug-nosed pet, on the famous ship She paid _twelve dollars_ for doggy's trip.

Arrived at New York, she went straightway To the "Windsor," paying _a dollar a day_ For the pup that needed especial care, And must be fed on the choicest fare.

But this terrible climate soon began To tell on the pug-nosed Englishman, Who had to be sent with haste emphatic To an M. D., whose patients are all dog-matic.

But he died, alas! and the doctor's bill Was _thirty dollars_. And if you will Take the trouble to count these figures up, You'll find 'twas a pretty expensive pup.

LACROSSE.

BY BRAINARD G. SMITH.

Lacrosse is becoming very popular among the young men and lads of the United States, and very properly, too, for it is a fine game, and one that is thoroughly American. Years ago, how many no one knows, it was played by American Indians, who called it "Baggataway."

Basil Hall, Catlin, and Lanman, who have written some of the best books about Indians, tell how the Creeks of Alabama, the Cherokees of North Carolina, and other tribes, played the game years ago, and their accounts show that then it was a fierce, hard game to play, in which the young Indians displayed wonderful skill and strength and pluck, and where broken bones were no rare thing.

"But," says one writer, "there never appears to be any spite or wanton exertions of strength to affect them, nor do disputes ever happen between the parties." These last words should be printed in large letters, that they may be easily read by all boys nowadays who play lacrosse.

In those days the game was not the scientific one that it is now. Then it was a matter of brute strength, and sometimes as many as six hundred, eight hundred, and even a thousand, players took part. The Canadian Indians claim to have invented the present game, and when the French first saw them playing, they gave it the name "La Crosse"--the bat--from the bat, or crosse, used in the game.

For a long time only the Indians played it; then the young Canadians took it up; and finally, in 1867, the game was formally adopted as the national game of Canada. Naturally the Canadians play well their own game, and the best clubs in the world are said to be the Toronto Club, of Toronto, and the Shamrocks, of Montreal.

They are great rivals, and which is the best it would be hard to say. Not long ago they played one hour and thirty-six minutes without either getting a goal, and then they were stopped by the darkness.

Lacrosse is a simple game, and easy to understand. A large level piece of ground is required, the smoother the better, but smoothness is not necessary. A goal is simply two poles driven into the ground, so that the tops, where wave little flags, shall be six feet high. The poles are six feet apart. Each side has a goal, designated by the color of the flag. These goals may be any distance apart, just as the players decide.