CHAPTER XII.

Joe was alone on the St. Lawrence in the middle of the night, and with a sprained wrist, which nearly disabled him so far as paddling was concerned. Worse than this, his comrades had disappeared, and there could not be the slightest doubt that their canoes had floated away with them while they were sound asleep. What chance had he of finding them? How could he get ashore, with his sprained wrist; and what probability was there that the three boys thus carried away in their sleep would escape from their dangerous situation without any serious accident?

As these questions presented themselves to Joe his first impulse was to admit that he was completely disheartened and to burst into tears. He was, however, far too manly to yield to it, and he immediately began to think what was the best thing that he could do in the circumstances.

The water was perfectly smooth, so that there was really no danger that the runaway canoes would capsize, unless their owners should start up in a fright, and not fully understand that their canoes were no longer on solid land. Neither was there much chance that they would be run down by steamboats, for the steamboat channel was near the south shore of the river, a long distance from the sand-spit. Joe remembered how fast the tide had risen the day before, and he calculated that the missing canoes must have been afloat about half an hour before the water reached the place where he was sleeping. They would naturally drift in the same direction in which the _Dawn_ was drifting; and all that it would be necessary for Joe to do in order to overtake them would be to increase the speed at which his canoe was moving.

There was a scarcely perceptible breeze blowing from the south. Joe got up his mainmast and set his sail. Light as the breeze was, the canoe felt it, and began to move through the water. Joe steered by the stars, and kept the _Dawn_ as nearly as possible on the course which he supposed the other canoes had taken. He had no lantern with him, and could see but a little distance ahead in the dark, but he shouted every few moments, partly in order to attract the attention of any of the missing canoeists, and partly in order to warn any other boat that might be in the neighborhood not to run him down.

After sailing in this way for at least an hour, and hearing no sound whatever but his own voice and the creaking of the canoe's spars, Joe was startled at perceiving a black object just ahead of him. He avoided it with a vigorous movement of his paddle, and as he drifted close to it with the wind shaken out of his sail he saw to his great delight that it was a canoe.

It was the _Sunshine_, with her canoe-tent rigged over her, and her commander sound asleep. Taking hold of her gunwale, Joe drew the two canoes together, and put his hand gently on Harry's forehead. Harry instantly awoke, and hearing Joe begging him as he valued his life to lie perfectly still, took the latter's advice, and asked, with some alarm, what was the matter. When he learned that he was adrift on the river he sat up, took down his tent, and getting out his paddle, joined in the search for Tom and Charley.

"They must be close by," said Harry, "for all three canoes must have floated away at the same time. Tom and Charley sleep sounder than I do, and if I didn't wake up, it's pretty certain that they didn't."

Presently Charley's canoe was overtaken. Charley had been awakened by the sound of Harry's paddle and the loud tone in which Harry and Joe were talking. He was sitting up when the _Dawn_ and the _Sunshine_ overtook him; and having comprehended the situation in which he found himself on awaking, he was making ready to paddle ashore.

There was now only one canoe missing--the _Twilight_. Harry, Joe, and Charley took turns in shouting at the top of their lungs for Tom, but they could obtain no answer except the echo from the cliffs of the north shore. They paddled up the river until they were certain that they had gone farther than Tom could possibly have drifted, and then turned and paddled down stream, shouting at intervals, and growing more and more alarmed at finding no trace of the lost canoe.

"She can't have sunk, that's one comfort," exclaimed Harry, "for the bladders that Tom put in her at Chambly would keep her afloat, even if he did manage to capsize her in the dark."

"He took the bladders out yesterday morning, and left them on the sand just in the lee of his canoe," said Charley. "Don't you remember that he sponged her out after we landed, and that he said that he wouldn't put his things back into her until we were ready to start?"

"I remember it now," replied Harry. "And I remember that I did the same thing. There's nothing in my canoe now except my water-proof bag and my blankets. But they're not of much consequence compared with Tom. Boys, do you really think he's drowned?"

"Of course he isn't," cried Joe. "We'll find him in a few minutes. He must be somewhere near by, and he's sleeping so sound that he don't hear us. You know how hard it is to wake him up."

"Tom is a first-rate swimmer, and if he has spilled himself out of his canoe, and she has sunk, he has swum ashore," said Charley. "My opinion is that we had better stay just where we are until daylight, and then look for him along the shore. He's worth a dozen drowned fellows, wherever he is."

Charley's advice was taken, and the boys waited for daylight as patiently as they could. Daylight--or rather dawn--came in the course of an hour, but not a glimpse of the missing canoe did it afford. The tide had already changed, and the top of the treacherous sand-spit was once more above water, and not very far distant from the canoes. As soon as it was certain that nothing could be seen of Tom on the water, his alarmed comrades paddled toward the north shore, hoping that they might find him, and possibly his canoe, somewhere at the foot of the rocks.

They were again unsuccessful. While Joe sailed up and down along the shore, the two other boys paddled close to the rocks, and searched every foot of space where it would have been possible for a canoe to land, or a canoeist to keep a footing above the water. They had searched the shore for a full mile above the sand-spit, and had paddled back nearly half the way, when they were suddenly hailed; and looking up, saw Tom standing on a ledge of rock ten feet above the water.

"Are you fellows going to leave me here all day?" demanded Tom. "I began to think you were all drowned, and that I'd have to starve to death up here."

"How in the world did you get up there?" "Where were you when we came by here half an hour ago?" "Where's your canoe?" "Are you all right?" These and a dozen other questions were hurled at Tom by his excited and overjoyed friends.

"I was asleep until a few minutes ago," replied Tom. "I got up here when the tide was high, and I had hard work to do it, too."

"What's become of your canoe? Is she lost?" asked Harry.

"She's somewhere at the bottom of the river. I tried to turn over in her in the night, thinking she was on the sand-spit, but she turned over with me, and sunk before I could make out what had happened."

"And then you swam ashore?"

"Yes. I saw the north-star, and knew that if I could swim long enough, I could find the shore. When I struck these rocks I was disappointed, for I couldn't find a place where I could land until I got my hands on this ledge, and drew myself up."

"Unless Tom wants to stay where he is, we'd better invent some way of taking him with us," remarked Joe.

"He'll have to get into my canoe," said Harry.

"How deep is the water where you are?" asked Tom.

"It's anywhere from six feet to sixty. I can't touch bottom with the paddle, so it's certain to be more than seven-feet deep."

"Then, if you'll please to give me room, I'll jump, and somebody can pick me up."

Tom jumped into the water, and had little trouble in climbing into Harry's canoe, the water being perfectly quiet. The fleet then paddled back to the sand-spit, where they landed and breakfasted, while Tom dried his clothes by the fire.

Every member of the expedition except Joe had lost something, and poor Tom had lost his canoe and everything except the clothes which he was wearing. As long as the water continued to be smooth Tom could be carried in either Harry's or Charley's canoe, but in case the wind and sea should rise it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to keep the canoe right side up with two persons in her. Quebec was still at least twenty-five miles distant, and it would take nearly a whole day of very hard work to paddle a heavy canoe, with two boys in her, only one of whom was furnished with a paddle, twenty-five miles, even in the most favorable circumstances. Moreover, Joe's sprained wrist made it impossible for him to paddle, and the wind was so light that sailing to Quebec was out of the question.

It was therefore decided that Harry should take Joe in the _Sunshine_ back to the Jacques Cartier, and leaving him to walk to the nearest railway station, should return to the sand-spit and join Tom and Charley in paddling down to Quebec, Tom taking Joe's canoe. Although the boys had originally intended to end their cruise at Quebec, they had become so fond of canoeing that they would gladly have gone on to the Saguenay River and, if possible, to Lake St. John; but now that Tom was without a canoe, no one thought of prolonging the cruise.

Quebec was reached by the fleet several hours after Joe had arrived there by the train. He was at the landing-place to meet his comrades, and had already made a bargain with a canal-boat man to carry the canoes all the way to New York for five dollars each. As the _Sunshine_ was fitted with hatches which fastened with a lock, and as it would be necessary for the Custom-house officer at Rouse's Point to search her, Harry wrote to the Custom-house at that place, giving directions how to open the lock. It was a padlock without a key, one of the so-called letter-locks which can be opened by placing the letters in such a position that they spell some particular word. Harry had provided the canoe with this lock expressly in order to avoid trouble at Custom-houses, and in this instance the plan proved completely successful, for the officer at Rouse's Point was able to unlock the canoe and to lock it up again without a key.

The boys spent a night and a day at Quebec, and, after seeing their canoes safely started, they took the train for New York. As they talked over their cruise on the way home they agreed that canoeing was far more delightful than any other way of cruising, and that they would go on a canoe cruise every summer.

"As soon as I can afford it I shall get a new canoe," said Tom.

"Will you get a 'Rice Laker'?" asked Harry.

"Of course I will. My canoe was much the best boat in the fleet, and I shall get another exactly like her."

"There's no doubt that you are a genuine canoeist, Tom," said Charley. "You've had lots of trouble with your canoe because she had no deck, and at last she sank and nearly drowned you, because she had no water-tight compartments; but for all that you really think that she was the best canoe ever built. Is everybody else convinced that his own canoe is the best in the world?"

"I am," cried Joe.

"And I am," cried Harry.

"So am I," added Charley; "and as this proves that we are all thorough canoeists, we will join the American Canoe Association, and cruise under its flag next summer."

THE END.

HOW TO MAKE A TOOL CHEST.

BY AN OLD BOY.

Carpentering is such a useful, healthy, and pleasing employment that boys will do well to learn the use of tools for convenience in making their own toys, traps, sleds, etc., even if they are never called upon to do some little "job" for their mothers.

Of course if a boy can afford to buy a full set of tools and chest, this particular article will have but little interest for him, as it is especially intended for those who must begin on an economical scale.

The tools absolutely needed, and which can be purchased for the least money, are: a handsaw, about 20 inches long, which can be used to cut crosswise as well as lengthwise of the wood; a tenon-saw, about 12 inches long, for cutting dovetails, and also across the grain of the wood; a smoothing-plane, about 8 inches long by 2-1/2 inches broad; a mallet; a joiner's hammer; a two-foot rule of box-wood; a set square; two chisels, one an eighth of an inch broad, and the other three-eighths; a screw-driver; a marking gauge; a gimlet; a brace, with four or five bits of different sizes; a medium-sized gouge; and a bench-dog to hold the wood on the bench when it is being planed. With this assortment of tools the amateur carpenter will get on very well, and he can add to the stock as he grows more expert in the business.

Do not make the mistake of undertaking a too elaborate piece of work at first, for it is only by practice that you can come anywhere near perfection; but let your first work be to make a box for your tools, and see how neat a job you can make of it. You will want one about 2 feet long, 21 inches broad, and 10-1/2 inches deep, for which the following material will be required: 12 feet half-inch pine-wood 11 inches wide, one pair of hinges or butts, 12 screws half an inch long, lock and key, glue, and brads.

Cut the wood into pieces, as follows: For the sides, two pieces 24-1/2 inches long; for the ends, two pieces 21-1/2 inches long; for the lid, two pieces 24-1/2 inches long; for the bottom, two pieces 24 inches long. These dimensions should be marked off on the board with a rule and pencil before they are cut. The sides and the ends should be planed on both sides, and the top and bottom edges planed true and square. The breadth of the wood will be 10-1/2 inches.

The best joint is the "dovetail." Fig. 1 shows the side with the "dovetail" cut; Fig. 2, the end with the points cut; and Fig. 3 shows the joint finished.

To make the joint: on one of the sides of the box mark off lines with the square 2 feet apart; also mark off lines 23 inches apart, and call these lines A and B, as in Fig. 4. Mark on the line A points every inch and half-inch alternately; on the line B mark off a point seven-eighths of an inch from B, and then points for every six-eighths of an inch.

Now draw lines from the points on line A to the points on line B, as shown in Fig. 5. Cut with a tenon-saw from C to D and from E to F, treating each dovetail in the same way. With a chisel cut the piece out so as to form a dovetail, as in Fig. 1. The pins are now to be drawn to correspond with the dovetails, which can be done by placing the dovetails just made over the end of the short sides, or ends, and marking them with a pencil. When this is done, make lines 20 inches apart; cut the pins down to this line with the tenon-saw. In cutting the pins, cut outside the pencil lines. The space can then be cut out with a chisel.

When all the pieces have been done in this manner, they should be coated with thin glue, and then hammered well together. When dry, the projecting ends of the pins and dovetails may be trimmed off with a chisel. This is called the "shell" of the box.

The bottom is to be put on next. Plane the two pieces 24 inches long by 11 inches wide, and fit them neatly in the shell. They should be nailed from outside the box.

The lid pieces are planed up next so as to fit _outside_ the shell. Fig. 6 is the box when finished. A is a piece of wood two inches deep, nailed on the lid to keep it square on the box; B B is a beading of wood nailed on the box to make a strong base; and also to protect the edges from chipping.

WILD-DUCKS.

Pretty pair of wild-ducks Upon the water clear To and fro softly go, Whilst heron fishes near. I wonder if they see two eyes Peep at them where they pass.

For Humphrey sly, with gun close by, Is crouching on the grass; They _may_ not see, but--oh, dear me! I hope they'll fly away. With might and main, to come again Quite safe another day.

OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.

With this number Volume III. of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE reaches its conclusion. Next week we shall begin Volume IV.

It has given us very great pleasure to learn from the little people who have written to the Post-office Box how delighted they have been with the beautiful pictures, fascinating serials, droll sketches, and amusing short stories which HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE has brought them so regularly.

We have tried to forget nobody. The big brothers have found tales of adventure and experiments in science for their special entertainment. The young ladies have been provided with useful hints for the work-table, and suggestions for novel and pretty things in home decoration. The wee tots have had silvery jingles and funny rhymes. The keen-witted little fellows and the clever girls who like to crack such nuts have had plenty to do in making or solving the puzzles which have been given in every number. Occasional pieces of music have tempted the little pianists and vocalists of the future. The Wiggles continue to stimulate the skill of little artists.

Nothing has gratified the publishers more than their success in satisfying careful parents and teachers who desire to furnish their young folks with wholesome, sprightly, and interesting reading. The private letters which they have received from many sources, as well as the unanimous verdict of the press, encourage them to persevere in making YOUNG PEOPLE better and better, so that the future may be as brilliant as the past has been promising.

The Post-office Box is a very popular department with all our readers. Its columns are open to all, and are lovingly and carefully edited from week to week. It affords the children an opportunity to see and hear how life is conducted in different places. To older eyes it presents captivating pictures of child life, and of the delights of children everywhere--in the city, on the farm, abroad, in school, on the lonely outpost in the far West, and around the mother's knee in the happy home.

The Exchange Department is educational, and while it assists our young readers in adding to their collections, it enables them to learn something practically of geography and history, and puts at their disposal one more resource against idleness and the mischief it bring in its train.

Our next volume will be brighter and more attractive than any which has preceded it. We have many good things in store, and we shall spare neither pains nor expense to make HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE the leading weekly periodical in the world for English-speaking children.

The price--$1.50 per year--places it within the means of all. We hope our present subscribers will try to obtain new ones. Boys and girls can do this by simply showing the paper to their friends. Our list is a very long one now, but we wish to make it longer, for the larger the number of subscribers, the fuller of entertainment and instruction, of beauty and fun, can we afford to make YOUNG PEOPLE.

Let everybody, therefore, join hands with us, and help along. The beginning of a new volume is a good time to subscribe.

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SCENERY HILL, PENNSYLVANIA.

I am a little boy nine years old. I have three little sisters; their names are Margie, Jessie, and Nellie. Margie is six years old, Jessie is five, and Nellie is three. I live at West Alexandria, Penn. My papa is a school-teacher, and I go to school. Now I am on a visit at my auntie's, and have been for the last three months. They have no little boy here, so I have plenty to do and a little time to play. I have made a Noah's Ark out of stiff paper. My auntie is helping me make the animals. We take the paper double, gum the pattern on, leaving the head or back joined, and when done they will stand upright. I have been taking YOUNG PEOPLE two years, and like it very much. Auntie gave it to me for a present. I did not like the way "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" ended.

W. S. H.

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The kind lady who sends us this story of her pet squirrel will always find a corner ready for her in the Post-office Box. We have not forgotten about the motherly hen of which she wrote us once before--the hen who spread her warm wings over a brood of kittens. The Postmistress thinks she never heard of anything prettier than the incident in this letter about the squirrel who tucked her naughty baby in under the maple leaves:

OUR PET SQUIRREL.

One summer morning, several years ago, we found a gray squirrel sitting on the arbor by the door, and though a stranger to our house, she was not at all disturbed by our presence, but seemed quite at home. All day she played on the trees and fences, coming nearer and nearer, as if to show us that she was not at all afraid, but quite used to society. In a few days my little boy and she had become good friends. She would sit on his knee and eat nuts and biscuit, but all the while watching him with her bright eyes ready to spring away, for notwithstanding her pretty gentle ways she never permitted any one to touch her. She certainly feared being captured; and I have no doubt she had been a pet, and kept in a cage, and had run away to taste the sweets of liberty. So we never interfered with her, and after a while she went to housekeeping in a cozy corner under the roof of the lodge, and one happy day out she came with three little squirrels. Oh, what frolics that mother and her children had! Such racing and chasing across the lawn, and over the fences, and up in the trees, springing from branch to branch, and sitting up so cunningly, to eat their treasures of nuts and seeds! They, were very naughty too, and would peep into the nests of the robins, and the old birds would chase them, and whip them with their wings.

The young squirrels never became tame, but the mother grew more and more familiar, and very saucy she was too. When the servants came down in the morning, she was always waiting for them by the kitchen door, impatient for her breakfast; and she would run back and forth, jump on the table, and tease the cook until she gave her something to eat. She was very fond of sweet-potatoes, and would help herself liberally, and would carry off the end of a loaf of bread half as large as herself.

As the young ones grew up they made nests for themselves, but they were never half as wise as their mother, and gave us lots of trouble--filling up a pipe-hole with sticks and straws, gnawing their way into the loft, and tearing into shreds everything their pretty hands could hold or their sharp teeth destroy, and racing over the roof at "peep of day" like a troop of tiny cavalry.

One pair made a home in the crotch of an old apple-tree, and raised a little family. One afternoon we found that a little one had strayed into a tree close by the window; it was after sunset, and bedtime for squirrels, but the little thing had nestled down between two of the branches, and would not move. The young mother was greatly distressed; she pushed and pulled, but no, the little one would not stir. After a while she ran away, and returned with a bunch of maple leaves in her mouth, which she spread over the baby, patting them down with her hands; this she did many times until the little truant was closely covered, and then ran off to where her good children were safely curled down for the night. When we came down in the morning the leafy coverlid was off, and the little one gone.

But no matter how cunning were the young squirrels, the dear old mother was always our favorite. Many little families she raised in the corner under the roof; but after three years of her happy life a swelling came on her throat, and she could not eat. She must have suffered very much; and she would come to us many times a day as if for relief, but all we could do was to talk to her, and call her pet names.

One day she came into the hall and jumped on my little boy's knee: for the first time she allowed him to stroke and caress her. She was very gentle, and did everything but talk; and it seemed as if we ought to have understood that it was her farewell. We offered her food, but she was very weak, and at length went away, and we never saw her again. No doubt she left us to die. Dear little Bunnie! I wonder if you knew how much we loved you!

F. T. C.

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STOCKPORT, NEW YORK.

I saw the comet, for the first time, about two weeks ago. I think that there is something very funny about them--the way that they rise and set, just like suns with a tail. My father says he thought when he was a boy that they were angels flying with all their glory spread out behind them, and again that they were a world on its way to destruction. There is a parish school here. I go to it. I study arithmetic, geography, spelling, reading, writing, and then there is a catechism class which I belong to. There is the Agassiz Association, which I belong to also. The teacher, Mr. H., is president of this. But I must stop now. So good-by.

ROBBIE V. R. R.

If you were not a nineteenth-century boy, Robbie, but instead had lived three or four hundred years ago, you would have been terribly afraid of so splendid a comet as the one which we have all been gazing at lately with so much wonder and delight. In the Middle Ages the appearance of a comet was thought to be a sign of some dreadful evil which would shortly come to pass, and old and young were thankful when the mysterious orb was no longer to be seen in the sky.

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BRANDY STATION, VIRGINIA.

I have a little sister named Emily, and one day she was very thirsty, and she put her hands around the pitcher and said, "You sweet water!" We have three little cousins visiting us now; we have a very nice time playing together. My brother Frankie was very proud of his letter. We are going to commence school very soon now. We have had a good many peaches this year, not in our orchard, but out on the farm. Good-by, for dinner is ready.

RENA L. S.

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FARLEY, VIRGINIA.

I see all the little boys and girls are writing about their pets. I have a pet dog; he is an immense dog. His color is chestnut brown. I am trying to tie him, but his neck is so big that every time I tie him he slips the collar off. I tied it so tightly that it choked him, but he slipped it. I wish somebody would tell me how to tie him. The pet duck I told you of before takes care of a pet chicken that belongs to my sister Rena.

FRANK S., JUN.

I could never have the heart to tie so splendid a dog. I would allow him his liberty if I were you, Frank. But if any of the boys can think of a way to help you, they may write to the Post-office Box and give their method. Only never tie any poor animal so tightly that you choke him. We would not like such treatment ourselves.

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WALTON, NEW YORK.

DEAR POSTMISTRESS,--I thought I would write to you, and tell you about a nice visit we had from friends. Cousin Temple and I played cars with my blocks, and when we got tired of playing cars we played circus with a tin cow and a horse on springs, and then we picked up leaves, and Temple got a whole bagful of them to carry to Michigan with him. I send a Wiggle to you. Good-by.

HELEN R. S.

You must have had grand times, dear, especially playing circus. I hope nothing was broken. Your Wiggle came safely.

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LAMBERTVILLE, NEW JERSEY.

I thought I would tell you about my pet, but he is dead now. He was a cat, and the nicest cat I ever had. He played hide-and-seek with me, and tag, and a good many other things. We think he was poisoned. I have a brother who takes your paper, and I take it to school, and the teacher reads the stories to the boys and girls. I like Jimmy Brown's stories ever so much. I would like him to come and see me.

MARY R.

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PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

I am a little girl. I live out in the country during the summer; papa has a lovely summer home there. We have lovely flowers all around our house. I have a pet cat; if I sit down to my lunch, she will come and sit beside me, and will cry until I give her her lunch, and then she will come up and rub against my skirts, as much as to say, "Thanks." I have also a dog. We have hot-houses with lovely rare plants in them.

JULIA L.

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CLIFTON, STATEN ISLAND.

We have written to YOUNG PEOPLE once before, and our letter was not printed. We have ten dolls and four cats, which latter mamma thinks are entirely too many. They are quite a happy family--grandmother, mother, and two kittens--one of which we found in the garden, and it makes quite a nice playmate for the other. We send you two Wiggle pictures; they are the first we have tried. We like Jimmy Brown's stories very much, and wish he would write oftener.

LAURA and MARION L. Q.

The Wiggles were duly given to our artist. I agree with your mamma that four cats are three too many, but I do not expect that you will think as I do.

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The rhymes which follow were "made up" by a little woman of six, and I think they are very good for one so young:

IN THE BARN.

Once Nellie said to Susie: "It's no fun Playing in this very hot sun, Let's go and play with little Rover-- She is nice, with her puppies all; You take your shade hat out of the clover, And I will take my parasol."

Then all at once, as they said this, Came walking along their Uncle Bliss. "Why, children, where are you going this hot day?" "Oh, we are going into the barn to play." "Then, children, I must say good-day-- I hope you'll have fine fun among the hay; Though I must go, I'll send down Joe, And you and she will have fun, I know. Tell Rover to take care of you, Don't let the calf eat up your shoe; Now once more I say adieu, And come each and give a kiss To your old loving Uncle Bliss."

They went to the barn and opened the door. There they saw Rover curled up on the floor, She wanted them to see her puppies three, And held out her little black paw. Suddenly they heard a noise--oh, where were the boys?-- In came walking the oxen and all the cows, Which frightened the children so they hid in the mows; The dog then did bark and sent them away, And the children came crawling out of the hay. Then, as the day grew dim and dark, And the little dog had ceased to bark, They said to each other good-night, And hurried to bed by candle-light, And soon were tucked all snug in bed, And on top of each pillow lay a little head.

J. W. K.

And here is another verselet by a six-year-old:

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

I have a little sister Agnes six years old, who wrote this verse about a cat we had, called Romeo, and I think it is so good that I hope you will print it with this letter in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

MAUD.

There dwelt once in a Brooklyn town A little cat with fur; Sometimes he would lick himself, And sometimes he would purr; His breast was as white as snow, And this cat's name was Romeo.

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Our next letter is from a wide-awake little fellow who will remember when his hair is gray how he saw the President driving through Boston streets. Who knows but that O. D. may one day himself be a Governor or a President. I am very sure that a good many future statesmen are among the boy readers of YOUNG PEOPLE:

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.

I saw the President last Wednesday when he came to Boston. He rode in a carriage drawn by four white horses. By his side sat Governor Long, and in the front of the carriage was the President's son. The escort was two companies of lancers. All the way down Dover Street the people were packed; it was nothing but cheers all the way. The President was then driven to the Common; a salute was fired as he went through the Charles Street gate. He staid on the Common for about one hour. As he came up Beacon Street there were people all along the State-house railing. I never saw so many people in my life. The Governor kept talking to the President all along Beacon Street. The President was tired, I think, of having to bow so many times, for he bowed every time the people cheered.

The procession then went down School Street into Washington Street, and into Dock Square. The best thing of all was when it stopped on Commercial Street. He called a bootblack up to his carriage, shook hands with him, asked him his name, and where he lived.

Do all boys and girls know how envelopes are made? Well, I will tell you. First 350 sheets of paper are put in a press. Then a knife in the shape of the envelope is put upon the paper; then the knife is pressed through the paper, and when they are taken out of the press they are in the shape of an envelope. Next they have to be gummed, then folded, and then they are ready for use.

O. D.

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ZELIENOPLE, PENNSYLVANIA.

I never have seen a letter in YOUNG PEOPLE from this place, so I thought I would write one. I was eleven years old the 20th of August; it was on Sunday, and I was born on Sunday. I have two sisters and one brother. His name is Willie, and for a long time he called himself Wibbo Pitto. He is four years old. He often says he wishes it was the day for HARPER'S "LUNG" PEOPLE to come. I have a dear little sister almost two years old; her name is Mary. She puts an _o_ to nearly everything. Our horse's name is Billy, and she calls him Billo. My other sister's name is Lizzie, and she is nine years old. I was at the Centennial at Hannastown, Westmoreland County, in this State, on July 13. One hundred years ago it was burned by the Indians. I have an uncle living there now. I am taking music lessons now, and my teacher says I play very well. Papa gave me HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for a New-year's present, and I like it very much. I like to read the Post-office Box.

BLANCHE C.

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GREEN BAY, WISCONSIN.

Will you please tell me if I can get the back numbers of "Mr. Stubbs's Brother," and how much they will cost, from No. 127 to 133, both inclusive, and from 136 to 140, both inclusive? And please tell me what a girl who is fourteen years old, and goes to school five days in the week, can do to earn money. Please answer through your paper, and oblige

MARY E. B.

You may procure the numbers you mention by writing to Messrs. Harper & Brothers. They will cost 48 cents.

I would advise a girl of your age to study hard, and prepare herself to earn money in future, rather than to try to earn it while going to school. You might earn some, however, as a young friend of mine did, by crocheting little sacques and socks for a store. She did this in leisure moments, and was very well paid. If you know how to darn and patch very neatly, you might do that on Saturday afternoons for some busy housekeeper, who would pay you for your work. If I knew more about what you have learned to do, I could give you better advice.

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Tell you what to make for Christmas, Daisy, Belle, and Theo? I am glad, dear little girls, that you are beginning thus early to think what pretty and useful gifts you may contrive.

One needs a great deal of time to make presents, which must, of course, be secrets from those they are intended for until the happy day arrives. Half the pleasure of Christmas consists in its beautiful surprises.

No gifts are more highly prized than those young people make with their own hands. It is so delightful, as one looks at a pretty or a useful thing, to see and feel that weeks and weeks ago a dear and loving child put her own occupations aside that she might give a token of affection to a darling mother or a sweet elder sister.

It is always a good plan to find out what people would like or are in need of. If you listen, you may some morning hear mamma say, "How I wish I had a pretty breakfast cap or a little shawl to throw over my shoulders." Perhaps papa will wish, as he is cutting the leaves of his magazine with his pen-knife, that he had a proper paper-knife. Grandma may be in want of a work-basket to hold her knitting. Alice may greatly desire a music-roll. Brother Artie, who often takes little journeys, would find a use for a pretty contrivance which you could make of burlaps and work with worsted--a sort of dressing-case to hold combs, brushes, and razors, the whole rolling up and taking a very little space in his travelling-bag.

For little children no more useful present can be thought of than a scrap-book. I have seen some very lovely ones, in which all the pages were filled with the advertisement cards and pictures which you are so fond of collecting. I heard of a puzzle scrap-book not long ago. A young lady made it by cutting out and pasting in order the enigmas, square words, diamonds, and conundrums which she found in the papers and magazines taken at her house. This sort of scrap-book would please a bright, quick-witted boy, and by means of it a family could find a great deal of fun on a winter evening.

How could you make a paper-cutter? Very easily if you know how to paint, as many of you do. Take a smooth slender piece of white-wood, and paint on it a bunch of violets, an ivy leaf, or something else that is pretty.

It is sometimes very pleasant for the boys and girls in a family to form a little club, and adding what money they have, join together in making a nice present to papa or mamma. Remember, dears, it is not the cost of a gift that makes people value it; it is the love it shows on the part of the giver.

Next week I will tell you of two or three other pretty things.

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TO NEW READERS.--We wish to call the attention of our new readers to a little matter which, while very small indeed to each of them individually, becomes an affair of importance to the Messrs. Harper & Brothers, who receive many hundreds of letters every day. All letters should be fully prepaid at the rate of three cents per half-ounce. No letter containing writing, even if only a signature, is carried by the Post-office Department from one city or town to another for one cent, or for two cents. Three cents is necessary on the very shortest letter, and if not paid in full by the sender, the deficiency must be made up by the receiver. Please pay attention to this when writing to the publishers of your favorite YOUNG PEOPLE.

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PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

FOUR WORD SQUARES.

1.--1. A tree. 2. A period of time. 3. Low. 4. To perceive.

2.--1. A rustic. 2. A thought. 3. Not distant. 4. Gloomy.

NEPTUNE.

3.--1. An animal. 2. Liquors. 3. To gather. 4. To look closely.

4.--1. A bird. 2. Anger. 3. A monster. 4. To lament.

AUBERY.

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No. 2.

THREE DIAMONDS.

1.--1. A letter. 2. A vessel. 3. An Asiatic peninsula. 4. Minstrels. 5. Wants. 6. A Latin root meaning skill. 7. A letter.

NEPTUNE.

2.--1. A letter. 2. A small and busy insect. 3. A surgical instrument. 4. A boat. 5. A poetic friend of Mr. Pickwick. 6. Stiff. 7. An article useful in cold weather. 8. A poisonous reptile. 9. A letter.

C. F. H.

3.--1. A letter. 2. An abbreviation. 3. Savory. 4. Figurative. 5. More refined. 6. A fish found in the Severn River. 7. A letter.

VOGIENE.

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No. 3.

ENIGMA.

First is in learn, not in school. Second in smart, not in fool. Third is in fast, not in slow. Fourth is in buzzard, not in crow. Fifth is in crayon, not in chalk. Sixth is in run, not in walk. The whole is the name of a river known To all who its course on the map have shown.

C. W. S.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 154.

No. 1.

L J T U N P A P T E N O R P A N E D L U N A T I C J A N I T O R N O T E D P E T I T R I D D O T C R

N N I P N E G R O N I G G A R D P R A T E O R E D

No. 2.

T W O N E W H A T W E D E W E A W E O D E W E N T E N

No. 3.

Saratoga.

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The answer to "Who Was He, and What Did He Invent?" on page 816 of No. 155 is George Stephenson.

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Correct answers to puzzles have been received from E. C. DeWitt, Charles H. Weigle, Aubery, Lulu Laidlaw, "W. H. Eat," Edward F. Stewart, Henry Berlan, Jun., A. G. C. B., Frank D. Brewster, A. Bloomingdale, Robin Dyke, Eva Richie, Lou Fairley, Ambrose Edgewood, "Junebug," Roy Dodd, Michael T., Abe Secor, Carrie F., "Rose-in-Bloom," "Lodestar," "Two Dromios."

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[_For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover._]

ENIGMA.

(_From the German._)

Above a dull gray sea behold A bridge of opal gleaming bright; Ere one swift moment could be told It sprung up to its giddy height.

The mightiest ship, with tallest mast, Beneath its arch could issue free. No foot across it e'er hath passed; Approach it, and it seems to flee.

It rises where the streams abound, And falls when'er the floods are laid. Now tell me where that bridge is found, And who its mighty arch has made.

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MINING UNDER THE OCEAN.

Mines under the earth are, indeed, interesting places to visit, but mines under the sea are more wonderful still. In England the latter are quite common, and great mineral riches have been extracted from rocks beneath the rolling ocean.

The St. Just Cornish mining district, on the borders of the Atlantic, has been long celebrated for the peculiar position of its mines, which extend thousands of feet under the bottom of the sea. The Botallack Mine extends some three thousand feet below the level of the ocean, and in what is called the Crowns the excavations have been carried upward of half a mile out under the water, which distance has been gradually increasing, in consequence of the ore dipping rapidly away seaward. The rocks under the sea have been worked away so close in some places that only a few feet of rock remain to keep out the waters of the Atlantic. Even in the finest weather the rolling of the pebbles with the swell of the ocean can be heard with greater distinctness than on the beach itself, and during great storms the noise is so appalling that, although certain that there is no real danger, the workmen are often anxious.

A writer who was once underground in the same mine during a storm says: "At the extremity of the mine-workings little could be heard of its effects except at intervals, when the reflux of some unusually large wave projected a pebble outward, bounding and rolling over the rocky bottom; but when standing beneath the base of the cliff, and in that part of the mine where but nine feet of rock stood between us and the ocean, the heavy roll of the large bowlders, the ceaseless grinding of the pebbles, the fierce thundering of the billows, with the crackling and boiling as they rebounded, placed a tempest in its most appalling form too vividly before me to be ever forgotten. More than once, doubting the protection of our rocky shield, we retreated in affright, and it was only after repeated trials that we had confidence to pursue our investigations."

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End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, October 31, 1882, by Various