Part III.

One day it happened that the tailor had not been home for twenty-four hours. Billy's coming into his family had made Peter very negligent. When he failed to bring food for the old woman and child, he assured himself that most likely Billy would get some. Peter was sure he ought to do that much for the shelter of a comfortable home. So every week the tailor drank more and staid away from that home longer; but Billy, wholly absorbed in his own plans, hardly noticed the fact, and Ben never complained of anything that could be endured. As long as the cow had fresh grass, they had milk and did not suffer. If it happened that Billy heard granny ask for meat, he got it for her; if not, she went without and forgot it from one meal-time to another. Indeed, she forgot everything but her Bible.

Well, as I have just said, Peter had not been home for twenty-four hours. Sunset came, and Billy did not return. The minstrel troupe were getting ready to leave town, and he was probably with them. The cow did not come home as she had often been accustomed to do of her own accord.

All these non-appearances made Ben very uneasy. He laid the table with empty dishes, and then watched on the door-steps. The stars came out and winked at him; the crickets made lonesome music. Presently granny tottered across the room, took up an empty cup, and shook her head musingly.

"Was the tea strong to-night, dearie?" she asked. "It seems as if it must have been poor stuff, I feel so weak."

"You have not had any, granny, but I guess we will s-soo-" began Ben, and then stopped. It did not seem worth while to stutter long over a thing so doubtful. But when the old Clock struck eight, Billy took his torn hat from the peg behind the door and said, "I am going after Brownie; she must have got into Mr. Ellery's pasture."

"Yes, child. The green pastures and still waters," answered the old woman. "And there is the Shepherd, you know. I shall not want."

"There isn't any shepherd there, and we must go after our own cow when she strays away, granny."

Ben shut the door gently then, and went down under the sunflowers along the road and over a narrow bridge, stopping to look into the rapid stream where the cattle came to drink at noon-time. Yes, sly Brownie was in the neighbor's pasture; but she took little Ben's grave rebuke very meekly, as became a good cow, and started away home. She reached the bridge and clattered over it, her hoofs shaking the unsteady planks.

As soon as he saw her headed in the right direction, Ben lingered to look longingly up the main road, for it was not so dark that he could not see if any one should happen to be coming down that road. He was just turning to go on, when he discovered a man in the distance. As Ben saw him walking first in the dusty road, then in the dewy may-weed of the border, now here, now there, he sped briskly toward him to act as a walking-stick. How often he had performed this sad duty before! Yet there was no hesitation or delay in the way he sprang forward to help the unhappy father who had done so little for his child.

"Humph! I should think you had better be on hand, leaving poor fellow to find his way home all 'lone this time night."

Ben did not answer. He had all he could do to keep his small feet out from under Peter's great boots, and to keep both himself and his unhappy parent from falling to the ground. At the bridge they made more noise than even the cow had made in crossing. The old planks creaked and rattled, while Peter lurched from one side to another.

"Take care, father! See, oh, s-s-see!" stuttered Ben. "You go too near the edge!"

The shrill warning came too late. Peter staggered, pitched, and reeled over into the brown water. One hand vainly snatching at Ben only tore the shabby straw hat off his head. The poor child gave a long, loud shriek for help. Fear loosened his stammering tongue, and the cry, "Father will drown! Come, oh, come!" rang out wildly over the fields. Meanwhile, by kneeling, he had seized the drunkard's coat, and was able to hold him at least a moment.

It seemed an hour to Ben. Peter struggled madly, and flung both arms around the frail boy to draw him recklessly down with him to death. Over he went, without resistance, and the leaping, sparkling stream that was so beautiful by day swept over them both. The stars twinkled overhead and the crickets chirruped in the crisp grass, and at that very moment Brownie was softly lowing at the little red cottage door. Granny waked up and called out in the silence and shadow, "Bring the good Book, Bennie, then we will go to rest."

Two hours later Billy came gayly whistling home and found the cottage dark, the fire out, and the poor old woman shivering, troubled to understand the strange stillness around her and her own discomfort. He lit a candle and looked on the lounge, expecting to find little Ben curled up there asleep, but the kitten, mewing pitifully when he disturbed her, was there all alone.

"Where can he be, gran--" The words were arrested on Billy's lips. Farmer Ellery entered the room and motioned to him to keep still. A woman who followed him led granny tenderly into the next room, while outside the door Billy heard muffled voices and many footsteps.

A moment later how his blood seemed to freeze with horror! The door opened, and sad-faced men brought in, on a plank torn from the old bridge, Peter, the tailor, dead. His pallid face gleamed through the matted hair, the water dripped from his clothing, and clutched tightly to his breast was poor little Ben. The child's soft locks streaming back showed the sweet face that looked to Billy like an angel's, so pure was it now. The patient little helper! Billy burst into tears. He forgot the stuttering, the baby pinafore, the copper-toed shoes that used to make Ben so funny. He all at once remembered how he gave himself so lovingly to everybody's service--to his, to granny's, to the miserable father's, even unto death. It seemed as if Billy must get him back, if only to tell him how much he loved him. But that could not be ever again.

Farmer Ellery and the other kind neighbors made every effort to restore the two to consciousness, but all was of no avail. They could only keep the sad condition of things from the poor old woman until morning, and then vie with one another in bringing her comforts.

The next few days were very strange ones to Billy. He never forgot an hour of that morning when he sat on the door-step in the warm sunshine, and peeped every now and then into the cottage, where, on the old lounge, made white with snowy linen, was a child, strewn from head to foot with apple-blossoms.

"He was not great, or handsome, or very smart," thought Billy, "but he will be missed, for he was good, and he loved everybody. He was always ready and willing to help, or to do, or to suffer. He was worth twice as much as I am. Nothing is left for me but granny. I'll have to make up to her the loss of both of them."

Suddenly there came into Billy's mind the thought of his chosen occupation. Was he not to start out as a minstrel that very week?

I doubt if Billy had ever thought so much in all his life before as he did in the days that lay between the time when little Ben was brought home so cold and white, and the funeral, when the kind neighbors buried him away out of sight under the green sod. He seemed to be taking a new view of life altogether. He could not have told the reason why, but the idea of starting off with the minstrel troup seemed to lose its fascination. He would have to leave that little green mound behind him, and he did not want to do it.

It was two days after the funeral when, as Farmer Ellery was at work in his field, there appeared quite unexpectedly a red head over the fence near him, and then a boy with a very earnest face.

"Good-day, Billy. Going to leave us, I hear."

"No, sir. I have come to say I want to make a man of myself by being just a hard-working boy, if you will show me how. And could I work for enough to keep an old lady, do you think? I am going to keep her, anyhow. The town shan't have granny. I am sorry I refused your offer. That minstrel nonsense is no go for me."

Billy's face grew as red as his hair, but he went on in a minute:

"Her Book tells what a fellow ought to be, you know, and I think I had better get into being something worth while. If I turn short around, maybe I can--"

"Make the most of yourself, with the help of God."

"That is it exactly."

"Come over the fence. Take a hoe and begin," said Farmer Ellery.

* * * * *

William Knox attended the last fair in Langham. He did not go up in a balloon, but his cattle and his farm produce took first prizes. If it had been becoming for a committee to decide what farmer was universally beloved and respected, in whose honor the community fully believed, perhaps there would have been another prize offered to William. If so, his face would again have been redder than his hair, for the best men are always modest.

THE END.

TOM FAIRWEATHER'S VOYAGE UP THE TIGRIS.

BY LIEUTENANT E. W. STURDY.

The _Blosse Lynch_ is the largest boat on the Tigris, being built somewhat on the model of the American river steamers, and on the _Blosse Lynch_ Tom Fairweather was embarked on a trip from Bassorah to Bagdad.

Bagdad, the City of the Caliphs, is five hundred miles from Bassorah, first up the Shatt-el-Arab, and then against the swift current of the Tigris, which runs at the rate of five miles an hour.

This voyage generally lasts three days, but sometimes, when the river is low and the nights dark, it is impossible to steam by night at all, or to go fast even by day. But Tom seemed born to good fortune and the fair weather which his name bespoke. The steamer sped on her way favored in all respects.

Tom's father had been to Bagdad before, and did not care to go again, so Tom was put under the charge of Lieutenant Jollytarre, who had decided to make the trip, although he, too, had made it already.

Such a motley throng on deck! There were keen-eyed swarthy Arabs of the desert, and black-eyed, russet-hued Arabs of the Gulf (the Persian Gulf, be it understood); there were Mussulmans from India on a pilgrimage to Kerbela; Jews of Bagdad returning to their homes after a business visit to Bassorah; there were Christians of Bagdad and Christians of Mosul. To be sure, these latter looked as unlike the ordinary Christian of Tom's acquaintance as possible, in their flowing robes and bright colors. But then Christianity and trousers and frock-coats are not altogether inseparable. Besides, there were Arab women, closely veiled, squatted about the deck. Sometimes the veils fell, and displayed the adornment of rings in the noses of these fair Arabians, blue lines elegantly tattooed on their chins and foreheads and across their lips.

You may fancy that it was a source of endless amusement to Tom to observe these different groups. Orientals are a tranquil set, and the quaint figures about the deck of the steamer changed their positions but seldom throughout the day; they smoked their caldeoous and drank their coffee seated on carpets and mats, and only stirred at the hour of prayer.

"Ain't it queer to see them saying their prayers right out before everybody?" commented Tom.

"Yes, it is," agreed the Lieutenant.

Presently they began to approach Kumah.

"What's this other river?" demanded Tom.

"This is the junction of the Euphrates and Tigris, fifty miles above Bassorah."

"Why, isn't this the Garden of Eden? I think my father told me that the Garden of Eden was at Kumah."

"Well, he was right." Here Mr. Jollytarre hailed an Arab who had just come on board to peddle his wares, consisting of curiosities and relics.

The Arab stood in front of Tom, gravely offering him a small branch of a tree. His English was so bad, however, that Tom was forced to turn to Mr. Jollytarre for an interpretation.

"He says that is a branch from the original tree which bore the forbidden fruit."

"Good gracious, you don't say so!" And Tom forthwith purchased the branch, paying two or three prices for it, of course.

Then the peddler jumped ashore, and they left Kumah behind them.

Afterward, for hours and hours a monotonous stretch of lowlands was the only landscape. The river-banks were so low that the wash from the steamer went over and watered the grass. Here and there were rice fields cultivated by the Arabs, and where the land was drier green corn waved, but not a tree broke the dead level of the landscape.

"What are those?" cried Tom, pointing to some animals playing among the reeds. "Oh yes, I see now--pigs; wild pigs, I suppose? And those birds are pelicans, are they not--there, in those pools? How snowy white they are!"

"I was a youngster when I made this trip before," said the Lieutenant. "It was my first cruise. I shall never forget shooting at a lion and two lionesses which had climbed to the top of a bank, where they lay high and dry. I hit the lion at the first shot, whereupon he plunged and reared, and then charged desperately in the direction of the steamer. At the second shot he rolled over dead into the water. But he showed fight, I tell you, and the fury of the three animals was something to be remembered. After the lion was hit, one of the lionesses jumped into the water and swam for the steamer. She was killed alongside."

"And the other lioness?"

"I regret to state she turned tail. I have always supposed she had cubs at home."

"Hello!" cried Tom, "what's that? Some one firing on shore. Look!"

Mr. Jollytarre used his field-glass. The Captain of the _Blosse Lynch_ sauntered up with his glass. On the banks of the river were two men firing at each other, one on either side, using the steamer apparently as a screen.

"Some of my crew tell me that those are two brothers," said the Captain, "who are fighting for the supremacy of their tribe. They keep up with us pretty well, don't they? Now look at that rascal shooting at that other fellow across the bow of the boat. By Jove! he's hit him. The man's down. Two or three men are running up to him and carrying him off. It's a dangerous country," continued the Captain, "and a bad lot of tribes all along here. They are always giving trouble, robbing grain and cargo boats at every opportunity."

Every ten or twenty miles the vessel would steam by an Arab settlement, or rather encampment, where nothing could be ruder than the huts built of mats and reeds.

The Arab boys of these villages would run along the banks shouting to the passengers, who would throw them apples and onions and cabbages. The sight of this sport fascinated Tom, who first begged a cabbage of the steward, and then hurled it toward the shore. It fell midway, however, into the water, whereupon the boys set up a shout of baffled expectation. But in the next moment two or three of them had sprung in after the precious gift, swimming fearlessly, regardless of the swift current and the wash of the steamer.

"The grown-ups are at it now," cried Mr. Jollytarre. "Look, Tom, look!"

As he spoke three men and a woman plunged into the river and exerted all their energies to seize upon a handful of onions which some of the crew just then threw overboard. Loaded with their booty they swam ashore satisfied.

As they proceeded on their way the aspect of the country improved greatly. Little towns built of sun-dried bricks replaced the former villages of reeds and mats. Among the dwellers on the Upper Tigris are Bedouins who had wandered thither in the dry season to water their flocks, and had settled there.

Have you all heard of the Bedouins of the desert? At certain seasons the desert is an arid waste, where flocks would perish of thirst. Many Bedouins, who had thus found their way to the river-banks, and had staid on, became farmers there. Some of them in the course of time would wander off to Bagdad or some other great town in search of employment, and thus these wanderers would cease to be the Bedouins of the desert.

Tom became thoroughly interested in all this. He looked with curiosity at the farmer Bedouins. Presently he saw a party of them mounted upon camels ("ships of the desert") steering their way along the river-bank.

"There's one queer thing," Tom said, looking about him on the steamer's deck. "Did you ever see so many blind people together before, Mr. Jollytarre? I mean blind of one eye. I never saw anything like it. What do you suppose is the cause?"

"Diseases of the eye are very common here on account, I suppose, of the glare of the sun on these hot plains. They have a way of using tobacco juice as a remedy for these diseases, which only makes them worse. The native doctors put out many an eye by this treatment. The patient is lucky if he escapes with even one good one. The natives have great confidence in the European doctors, and look upon them as magicians--that is, unless they propose to cut off an arm or a leg. That they won't submit to; they would rather die. The loss of an eye is evidently a trifling matter."

"That accounts for the Three Calenders," said Tom, "You remember those Three Calenders in the _Arabian Nights_? They were princes' sons, each blind of the right eye, who all met at the gates of Bagdad together. Now I've always thought it so very remarkable--all three blind of the same eye, all three princes, all meeting at the same place."

"What you might call a coincidence, or rather three of them. I always used to think that story hard to swallow myself, but since I've seen these Eastern folks in the flesh, I find it easier to believe. In fact, I have been told that it would be a very singular circumstance if three individuals came together at Bagdad, or any other town in the neighborhood, who could count six eyes among them."

So they went on their way, coming nearer and nearer to Bagdad. Five hours from their destination they came to the ruins of two cities, the "Twin Cities of the Arabs"--Seleucia and Ctesiphon.

Seleucia was built on the western bank of the Tigris, by Seleucus, one of Alexander's generals. After the death of Alexander his vast empire was divided between four of his generals, and the grand division called Syria fell to the share of Seleucus. This included part of ancient Assyria, and therefore the venerable city of Babylon, which was at one time the greatest city in the world. As Seleucia rose into power it gradually took the place of Babylon, which fell into decay in its turn.

Ctesiphon was built opposite Seleucia on the other bank, and was the capital of the Parthian Empire, its royal palace being one of the wonders of the ancient world.

Kingdoms were bowled up and down in those days just as they are now, and in this way Ctesiphon was sacked by the Arabs, when, a few years after the death of Mohammed, they prostrated the Persian kingdom.

The wonderful royal palace was destroyed and its glories scattered. One marvellous carpet in particular, which covered the Hall of Audience, was sent to the Caliph Omar as a trophy worthy of him alone. He had it cut up and divided among the captors, and it was of course ruined.

Tom and Mr. Jollytarre wandered through the ruins of Ctesiphon, talking of these things.

"At one time," said Mr. Jollytarre, "they were rebuilding, or rather refounding, Bagdad, in the time of a caliph called Almansur. He determined to use the devastated palace of Ctesiphon as a quarry for materials. He ordered the famous building to be entirely demolished for this purpose; but it was found to be impossible to carry out his orders, the pile was so stupendous. There is 'Cæsar's Arch,' for instance, which has escaped the destroyer's hand. The height and span of this arch are said to be unequalled in the world."

But Tom heaved a sigh. "I should have liked to see that carpet," he said.

"Yes, so should I. I hardly think carpet-makers of the East have improved since that day. They improve slowly out here. I don't believe things have altered much since Alexander's day."

"Those round boats, for instance," said Tom.

"So much for the 'Twin Cities of the Arabs,'" said the Lieutenant, as they embarked once more on the _Blosse Lynch_. "Tom, I wonder your small head does not burst with all the sights you have seen and the wonders you have heard since we left Bassorah."

"Most of it goes in one ear and out the other," replied Tom, frankly.

At night-fall of the third day they reached Bagdad, but it was too late to go on shore.

FIVE LITTLE ANGELS.

Five little angels singing on high; Five little angels drop from the sky.

The first to blow the fire ran;

The second then put on the pan;

The third poured in the porridge nice;

The fourth put in the salt and spice;

The fifth then brought it in a plate, And, smiling, said to little Kate: Your supper's very hot, I fear; Be careful not to burn you, dear!

Two little cousins were going to school the other day, and as they passed my window I watched their faces. One of the boys, whose name was Harold, looked very happy. I was as sure as though he had told me so that he had been helped by a pair of twin fairies who are always very busy at this time of the year. The two little creatures flit from one school-room to another, and the boys and girls whom they assist may be known by several signs. They hold their heads up bravely, they walk with light steps, and they are never seen to frown or pout. I was sure by Harold's eyes that he and the fairies I mean were close friends.

Edgar, the other boy, went to school with an air which gave me pain. I was not at all surprised to hear him say that he had a cross teacher, and that he did not like his lessons, and could not learn them. Poor fellow! A naughty fairy had captured him, and I put on my spectacles and took my knitting while I thought of a plan to set him free from her power.

The fairies who help children at school are bright-eyed creatures, who teach you two things--the first is how to hold fast, the second is how to hold on. Fairy Holdfast will not let her friends look at a half-dozen things at once. She says, "Now, my boys and girls, ten times one is ten. Think of that, and of nothing else. Look, straight at the teacher if in the class-room; look straight at the book if it is study hour. I will hover about, and keep everybody who wants to bother you out of sight."

Fairy Holdon says, sweetly, "Dear little ones, Rome was not built in a day. One brick at a time, and the house is completed. One day at a time, and the century is finished. One lesson at a time, perfectly learned, and the little boy becomes a great scholar."

Some people call the Fairy Holdfast Attention, and the Fairy Holdon Diligence, but I think the other names are prettier and much easier to remember, don't you?

As for the wicked fairy who is the foe of all good boys and girls, her name is Fairy Scatterbrain, though some people call her Idleness. She is not nearly so strong as the kind fairies I have been talking about, and if you make an effort to snap the threads she weaves about you, they will break like spiders' webs. Only, _you_ must make the effort. Nobody can do it for you.

I intend to whisper this secret to Edgar on the first opportunity.

* * * * *

NEW BRIGHTON, STATEN ISLAND.

I am nine years old. I live with my papa and mamma in the country. I have a little pug-dog whose name is Beauty, and I have a canary-bird and a young rabbit. The canary-bird's name is Buttercup, and the rabbit's name is Muff. I am going to tell you about the way in which I caught Muff. I was out walking with my teacher and my brother and another little boy and girl, and we went up to the woods, when all of a sudden I caught sight of a little brown thing in the bushes, and then I saw that it was a young rabbit, and I called my little friends to try and catch it, and at last the little boy succeeded in doing so. We took it home and put it in a box, in which we laid some straw.

My brother is eight years old. He has a bicycle, and he rides very well. He began to ride when he was six years old.

JULIE B. R.

* * * * *

FORT BOWIE, ARIZONA TERRITORY.

This is my second letter to YOUNG PEOPLE. The first was written some time ago from Fort Apache. Most girls tell of their pets, but as I have only a pair of pigeons and a little "burro" (which is Mexican for donkey), I'll tell about our trip from Fort Apache to this place. We left Apache early on the morning of June 28, and arrived here on the afternoon of July 9, having travelled in an ambulance drawn by six stout mules. The road was very rough in some places, but the scenery was beautiful, especially when crossing the mountains. We passed by the graves of the men killed by Indians last May. In one grave there were five bodies. We also saw the charred remains of a wagon, to which the Indians had tied men and then burned them. We had a detail of sixteen soldiers, or we should have been very much afraid. We camped each night, and I thought how surprised Eastern people would have been had they seen us sitting outside the tents after supper, singing, in this wild country. I'll write again some time, and tell about this funny little fort--that is, if we stay here long enough.

BESSIE G.

Your letter would not have been too long, dear, had you told about the fort before you concluded it. Little correspondents need not fear making descriptive letters too long.

* * * * *

"I want to look wise," said Maud, one day; "I want to look clever and wise." "Oho!" said the Owl, as he sat on a spray, And blinked, as in solemn surprise, "You had better by far remain as you are, And learn to _be_ clever and wise." Then echoed the birds as they sat in a row, "You hear what he says; you'd better, you know, Just learn to be clever and wise."

* * * * *

AN ALPHABET.

A is an apple, so rosy and sweet! B is a butternut dropped at your feet. C is a crow flying over the hill, D is a duck in the pond by the mill. E is an egg that the hen hid away; F is a fan for a very warm day. G is a golden-rod lifting a plume, H is a honey-bee kissing its bloom. I is an icicle, sharp as a spear; J is a juniper, green all the year. K is a katydid, singing at dusk; L is a lily, much sweeter than musk. M is a mouse peeping out of her hole; N is a napkin in tight little roll. O is an owl, looking solemn and wise; P is a pussy, with fun in her eyes. Q is a question that children may ask; R is a recess when ended your task. S is a sugar-plum ever so nice; T is a tooth biting it in a trice. U is an usher, to find you a place; V is a violet hiding her face. W is a wren, with a dear little nest; X is the gladness that fills her wee breast. Y is YOUNG PEOPLE you all love so well; Z is for Zoe, who reads it to Nell.

Some little folks may think it odd that X stands for gladness. When they are older, and study algebra, they will find out that X is put for a quantity that is not known. Nobody can tell just how very glad a little mother-bird feels over her fledgelings.

* * * * *

KNOXVILLE, ILLINOIS.

I like so well to read the letters from other little boys and girls that I thought I would like to write you one. I have two dogs: their names are Prince and Gip. Prince is a shepherd dog, but can not scent so well as Gip, who is a rat terrier; so Prince coaxes Gip to go rabbit-hunting with him, and scent and catch the rabbits, when Prince eats them. Gip does not always like to do the work and let Prince have all the enjoyment, and sometimes runs back after they get started, but Prince will rub his nose, pat, and coax until Gip will finally go. I have two ducks, and they sit on nests close together, and divide the eggs between them. I have also a cat named Bessie; she had a kitten, but it died. I have a little sister named "Tot." I have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE ever since it first started, and I think "Toby Tyler" was the best story of all. I am in the country visiting, and my auntie is writing this letter for me, as I am only six years old, and can not write. I have been riding on horseback, chasing the cows and pigs, catching chickens for auntie, drinking all the milk I want, and having a real good time. I have not seen any letters from the Knoxville girls and boys; so I hope you will print this, and let me surprise my papa, who prints papers too.

STERLING H. C.

This is a very nice letter, only, dear Sterling, I am sorry those dogs hunt and eat the poor rabbits, and if I were their little master, I would stop such work if I could. The ducks are much kinder than the dogs, in my opinion.

* * * * *

ELLENSBURG, OREGON.

Will you publish a letter from a little girl who lives away off on the Pacific coast, where no one is ever advised to "go West"? I am six years old. Papa subscribed for the YOUNG PEOPLE last winter, and it was so long coming that we began to fear that the money had been lost, when at last four numbers came all at once, and on my birthday at that. We live at the mouth of Rogue River. There is a large salmon cannery here, and a great many men are employed during the fishing season. A long time ago this place was called Gold Beach, on account of the very rich mines here. Sometimes we walk on the beach and gather moss and shells. From the front door we can see steamers passing up and down the coast, and can watch the fishing-boats. Last summer papa took me to San Francisco, and I enjoyed the trip very much. I have two brothers, Bertie and Harry, and a sister Pearl, and I am the oldest of them all. I have a number of dolls, and a kitten named Jessie. Bertie's kitten is named Daisy. We all think ever so much of YOUNG PEOPLE. I have a little friend named Clarence, who is going to subscribe. I can not read much myself, but mamma reads to us. Mamma is writing at my dictation, but she says we must "boil it down," or you will not even read my letter. I think that of all the subscribers in the United States, none live so far West as your little Oregonian friend,

MAY W.

The next time I cross the East River and see the busy steamboats going to and fro, I shall think of May watching the ships and steamers from her front door. How nice it was to have your first numbers of YOUNG PEOPLE arrive on your birthday, almost as though it had been planned to give you them for a birthday present.

* * * * *

We think the following letter from a lad of twelve will interest many other wide-awake boys who have never had the pleasure of seeing what goes on in a navy-yard. We will be pleased to hear from our young correspondent again:

I live in the Boston Navy-Yard. I thought it would be interesting to the readers of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE to hear something in regard to navy-yards in general. I have lived in two yards, and have visited several others. I think the Boston Navy-Yard by far the most interesting. In it is a rope factory which is 1300 feet long. All kinds of rope are made here. It is not only interesting but instructive to watch the process. First the hemp is combed and twisted into strands, then these strands are twisted into sections of rope, then three or four sections are twisted together to form a complete rope. Wire rope is also made here, which is used for stationary rigging. A manila rope was on exhibition at the Centennial which was made in this yard, the circumference of which was 28 inches; this was the largest rope ever made. The dry-dock is another very interesting feature of this yard. It is a place where ships float in for repairs. After they are in, gates are closed, and the water pumped out by a powerful steam-pump, leaving the ship high and dry, so that even her bottom can be repaired without the aid of divers. The dimensions of this dry-dock are 403 feet long, 99 feet wide, and 32 feet deep. It was begun July 10, 1827, and opened June 24, 1833, and cost $677,000.

PORTER.

* * * * *

ROUND MOUNTAIN, ALABAMA.

I want to tell you about our nurse's wedding, and I want you to put my letter in your dear little paper; but before I begin I must tell you that we live away out in the country in Alabama. We moved here from Augusta two years ago. Papa has an iron furnace here. There are about two hundred cabins all around the furnace. Our house is called the "Big House"; it stands off by itself.

Well, when Cinda (that is nurse's name) told mamma she was going to be married, mamma gave her lots of nice things for a wedding supper, and told Cinda she could be married on our big piazza. Cinda was so happy, and was not cross a bit that day, and when she bathed us did not get a bit of soap in our eyes.

Cinda is nearly forty years old, and mamma says her name is most appropriate (for she is as black as a cinder). Her husband "to be" was ten years younger than she, but he did not seem to mind that, for he had been begging Cinda a long time to marry him. When the hour came, mamma and some lady visitors went to the piazza. The friends of the bride and groom were there too. Then Cinda and Albert came on the piazza.

Cinda wore a black cashmere dress and white gloves, and flowers in her hair and at her neck. We children thought she looked so nicely. When Mr. W---- asked Albert if he took Cinda to be his wife, and would protect and support her, Albert just hollered out, "You bet I will, boss"; and then Mr. W---- said they were "man and wife." Then they went to one of the cabins, and had their supper and a nice time.

BOLLING S.

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DOBB'S FERRY, NEW YORK.

I send a receipt which I made myself this morning, and I hope you will print it. Here it is:

POP-CORN CANDY.--Pop some corn; then fill a patty-pan or some small tin with the corn, and pour two tea-spoonfuls of molasses over it. Put it on the range for five minutes, and then let it cool. You will find it very nice.

ISABEL N.

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SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA.

About two months ago I went to Los Angeles. There were seventeen in the party, and we had a very nice time. I should like to tell you about all we saw and did, but as that would take all the room in the Post-office Box, I will just tell you about something I saw in Los Angeles. We visited an old Hungarian, whose business was training mocking-birds and raising flowers for market. He had about one hundred large birds, and in a box by themselves a dozen or more young birds. He placed their food on the end of a stick, and put it through the wires of the cages, and each one would stretch out his wings to keep the others away while eating it. When he came to the little ones, they all opened their mouths, and then they did look funny enough, for their throats are bright yellow, and one could see little except mouths. He teaches them to whistle tunes very sweetly. When they can not learn to sing, he turns them out; but they stay near by, and he feeds them. There was one bird near our camp that sang all night. The man had eleven dogs, and bought two sacks of flour and two dollars' worth of meat a month for them. He said he loved birds, dogs, and flowers better than human beings. We were gone from home two weeks, and saw a great deal of Southern California.

EMILY G. B.

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BATON ROUGE, LOUISIANA.

I don't know how to write, so mamma is writing this for me. I have all the HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLEs for last year, and all for this year. I keep my books and papers in a trunk, and once a week I dust them all. The colored Odd-Fellows had a procession last week. They wore black broadcloth suits and tall beaver hats. Some rode on horseback, and they had on sashes, and looked so nice. They had some beautiful flags and banners, and one of them had the biggest axe over his shoulder I ever saw. I like to read the children's letters in the Post-office Box. We have two pets--a Maltese cat named Charley, and a big horse named Rex. Good-by.

ARTHUR B.

The Odd-Fellows must have looked quite brilliant and imposing with their sashes and banners. I am glad you save all your papers so carefully. You may always refer to a number when you wish, which is a great convenience.

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BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

I am a little girl seven years old, and I asked mamma to write this for me.

I have one brother nine years old; he is away in the country, while I staid at home.

I have ten dolls I play with. The prettiest one is a French doll named Edna. I have a baby doll with a long white dress and a cap on, and I love her ever so much. Then I have a Japanese doll, called Wingy Wing Foo, like the one in the story in one of your papers.

I have one little black kittie, with white feet, and she has a red ribbon on her neck with a bell on, so I can tell where she is. Her name is Widdy.

I like to hear about all the little girls and their pets, so thought I would write and tell you of mine. I hope you can print this. I should like it so much.

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MOTT HAVEN, NEW YORK.

I am sorry the story about Mr. Stubbs's brother is ended, and still more sorry that Abner is dead.

I have been in the country, and climbed the mountains at Highland Falls, and I brought home with me two lovely sunflowers, the first I ever saw, though I will be ten years old next month.

LOTTIE S. S.

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Around and around a dusty little room Went a very little maiden with a very big broom. And she said, "Oh, I could make it so tidy and so trig, Were I a little bigger and my broom not quite so big!"

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PASS CHRISTIAN, MISSISSIPPI.

As I see that you receive letters from all parts of the country, I thought you would like to have one from this place. I am one of five boys in a family. We all enjoy reading the paper, even to my little sister, although she can only look at the pictures. We get it regularly every week. We have a pair of goats and a wagon. They resemble Rocky Mountain goats. We have a harness to fit our goats, so that we are able to drive a double team. Their names are Jack and Billy. They are snow white. The place I live in is large and shady. It is situated on a lake, in which we bathe. We are fifty-eight miles from New Orleans, where my father is in business. We have also a pony which we ride. Her name is Fate, and she is very gentle.

SYDNEY H.

I would like very much to see your goats, which are, no doubt, as well-behaved as they are beautiful. I hope you feed them generously, and never let them work too hard in their pretty harness.

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SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA.

I live in San Francisco, and often go out to ride to the Cliff House. It is very funny to watch the sea-lions on the rocks, which are called Seal Rocks. We were there the other day when a tug-boat came close to the rocks and blew a whistle. The seals took alarm, and it was very comical to see them make their way into the sea two by two. We went to the Persidio, and through the fort. We saw cannons, of which there are a great many. The walls are about six feet thick. The cannons are all pointed out of little windows, and are on tracks so that they can be placed in any position. We went to the top of the fort, and saw a little boat go through the Golden Gate. I have read HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for two years. I look forward to Thursday with great pleasure, for that is the day when it comes.

DAISY H.

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NETHERWOOD, ILKLEY, ENGLAND.

I am a little boy ten years old, and my real home is in Wisconsin, U. S. Mamma and I are staying here with grandmamma. We are to return in October. We are going to Paris to-morrow, and from there to London, where I hope to visit the Tower and other places of importance. I wish I could give you a little of my diary which I kept at sea, some of which I think would be interesting. I have taken your paper ever since the first number in 1881, and have liked it very much. I like "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" especially, and long each week for the paper which my father sends from America.

J. E. MCC.

Perhaps you will keep a diary on the voyage home. If so, you may send me some quotations from it when you are again at your home in Wisconsin. I hope you are writing a little every day about the sights which to you are new and interesting in the Old World.

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MARIE G. L.--There is no charge for the publication of exchanges. Each person should pay the postage or expressage upon the articles which he or she sends. As to which should forward articles first, the Postmistress can not decide. In every case trouble would be saved, and misunderstanding and disappointment would be prevented, if exchangers would follow the advice always given at the head of the columns devoted to their interest and pleasure. Write first to the person with whom you wish to exchange your treasures, and await a reply before you send anything. This should always be done.

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C. Y. P. R. U.

A CURIOUS CHINESE CUSTOM.--The people who live in the southern part of China are said to observe, once a year, a festival to which all look forward almost as eagerly as Americans do to the Fourth of July. It is called the Filial Porridge festival. Instead of boiling rice by itself on that day, sugar, seeds, fruit, dried dates, and other things are cooked with the rice, making a dish which is almost black in color and very thick. This porridge is placed in bowls, and is set before the ancestral tablets and household gods which one finds in every Chinese house. Here it is left for a time, with incense and candles burning beside it. After a while, when the souls of the departed ancestors are supposed to have consumed all they wish, the family are at liberty to eat the remainder. Children who are married, and away from home, make and send a dish of this porridge to their parents if they possibly can. After the filial porridge has been eaten, the boys and girls amuse themselves by firing off crackers, playing merry games, and having a pleasant time.

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This is a pretty story about a terrier, is it not? A hungry boy called at a house in Rochester, and asked for something to eat. He was told that there was nothing, but he pleaded with the servant, saying, "Give me only a piece of bread."

The dog, who had been standing by the domestic, suddenly ran away, and in a moment returned, carrying in her mouth a large piece of bread, which had been given to her for her breakfast. Going straight to the boy, she laid it down at his feet, looking up at him, and motioning with her head and paws, as if to bid him take it.

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Du Chaillu, in his beautiful stories of travel in Scandinavia related in _The Land of the Midnight Sun_, tells about being driven through the country by young girls. He says:

"At every station I had a young girl for a driver, and these children of the North seemed not in the least afraid of me. My first driver's name was Ida Catharina. She gave me a silver ring, and was delighted when she saw it on my finger. I promised to bring her a gold one the following winter, and I kept my word. She was glad indeed when, at the end of the drive, I gave her a silver piece. Another driver, twelve years old, was named Ida Carolina. The tire of one of our wheels became loose, but she was equal to the emergency. She alighted, blocked the wheel with a stone, went to a farm-house and borrowed a few nails and a hammer, and with the help of a farmer, made everything right in a few minutes. She did not seem in the least put out by the accident. She chatted with me all the time though I did not then understand what she said, for I did not then know the Finnish language. She was a little beauty, with large blue eyes, thick fair hair, and rosy cheeks. From early life children are here taught to depend upon themselves."

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We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. this week to the very interesting article on "Corals," by Miss Sarah Cooper, and to Lieutenant E. W. Sturdy's account of "Tom Fairweather's Voyage up the Tigris."

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PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

FOUR WORD SQUARES.

1.--1. The time to rest. 2. A lounger. 3. A dell. 4. A fence. 5. Very large plants.

2.--1. A musical instrument. 2. A false god. 3. To defeat. 4. A girl's name.

3.--1. An imaginary monster. 2. Profit. 3. A husk. 4. To challenge.

4.--1. Air in motion. 2. A thought. 3. Close. 4. To brave.

A. L. W.

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No. 2.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

1. A crawling animal. 2. A chemical substance. 3. A Swiss patriot. 4. A girl's name. 5. Destructive animals. Primals and finals spell the name of manufactories which are beautiful objects in a landscape.

BENJAMIN L.

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No. 3.

FIVE DIAMONDS.--(_To Eureka_).

1.--1. A letter. 2. A meadow. 3. A fruit. 4. A unit. 5. A letter.

2.--1. A letter. 2. Part of a verb. 3. A color. 4. A fish. 5. A letter.

COUNT NO ACCOUNT.

3.--1. A letter. 2. A tavern. 3. To bring on. 4. A fruit. 5. A letter.

4.--1. A letter. 2. To increase. 3. Peculiar form of expression. 4. A point. 5. A letter.

5.--1. A vowel. 2. Permit. 3. A planet. 4. A utensil. 5. A letter.

CHRISTINE and GRETCHEN.

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No. 4.

CHARADE.

My first is the lightest of things, without doubt. My second we would not be always without. My whole you will find as a great prize is reckoned By people who are a long way from my second.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 147.

No. 1.

D N F I N P A D D I G I T N A V A L N I B D A N T L

S T C G A G P E T O L D S A P I D T E N O R C L A R E G I N T O N D R Y D R E

No. 2.

A P E S H E T I E S L Y M A Y I D A R E D I L L S P Y S H Y L I E D A Y

No. 3.

S la Y T og A E conomi C A ccomplis H M el T

No. 4.

Cowl.

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Correct answers to puzzles have been received from "Christine and Gretchen," Naomi Schultz, John Burr, Arthur Folsom, "Eureka," Sydney Heineman, Benjamin Lowenthal, E. C. DeWitt, "Lodestar," "Sunshade," Eddie S. Hequembourg, Daisy R., Louise Redwood, Archie McManus, Tom Rayburn, Elsie Lee, Maggie Murphy, Ella Hurd, Edith Maynard, Mollie Price, Puss Keeler, Richie Jenkins, Jesse Oppenheimer, Fred Lott, Hugh McAlister, "Al Bert," Rosa Lennox, W. A. W., Emma Christie, "Ye Owls," David Heinemann, Frank C. Farrow, G. Ritter, "Gazetta," "C. De Gangue," Alice W., and John Selim.

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

"MY SHARK."

BY EESUNG EYLISS.

The experience of this comical youth who is struggling so valiantly with "A little too much fish" reminds me of my adventure with the finny monster that I always call "my shark."

"Hold on to him, I say. Don't let him get the better of you. Hold him tight. There, you have let him run again."

It was the minister who spoke; but I paid little heed to his advice, for at that moment I was busy--very busy; and not only that, but I was satisfied that the present business I understood better than my adviser.

The way of it was this. We were in Gardiner's Bay; had gone down to fish for porgees chiefly, though, of course, taking whatever came to hand. It was my custom to take with me on such occasions a shark line, and not unfrequently I had fine sport in that way. This day, of which I have been speaking, I had invited the pastor of the village church to accompany me, and with him had come a theological student who was visiting at his house.

We had a delightful sail down the bay, and commenced our fishing. The first porgee which I caught, I rapped on the head, and then putting him on my shark hook as bait I paid out the line (a half-inch rope to which the hook was attached) until it had run off with the tide about fifty feet astern of us, and resumed my fishing.

Our success was good, and we were enjoying it finely when r-a-s-p, r-a-s-p I heard my heavy shark line dragging out over the gunnel of the boat. I knew the sound well, and what it meant; a shark was going off with my baited porgee.

I caught the rope, gave it a quick and strong pull to hook him, and found at once that I had my hands full. I had taken many of them, and I knew on the instant, from the violent strain, that he was one of more than common size. He had not as yet become much alarmed, and he was simply swimming off with determination, but without any special excitement. We were in a large sail-boat, but he was swinging us in the tideway as though it was only a floating board. All this time I was gathering in the line, until I brought him up where I could see him; I judged him to be eight feet long at least.

When he came thus near the surface, he took fright and turned down. Of course I could not hold him, and he dragged the rope through my hands foot after foot, until he was nearly a hundred feet away. I made out to glance over my shoulder in search of my crew. I found that the party were mustered forward holding tight to the mast, and looking decidedly solemn. I could not, however, attend to them, but proceeded to gather in my shark again.

By the time that, after a heavy struggle, I had once more brought him to close quarters, he had become somewhat tired out, and dragging his head to the surface I dealt him a blow with a club. And it was as I took up the club that the parson volunteered his advice, as already mentioned. The blow was not sufficient to stun the shark, and off like a runaway horse he went again. But when I brought him up the third time it was manifest that he was becoming exhausted, and that I could hold him. And hereupon the pastor took heart of grace and came to the rescue.

"Hold him tight, now. Let me get at him; I want to pay him off for past scores. The sins of the fathers descend upon the children, you know; and I believe it was his grandfather that used to frighten me so when I played truant from school and ran off to Fulton Market to bathe. I will settle him," and, taking the club, he rapped the poor shark across the brain until life was extinct, and I could, with the help of my crew, haul him into the boat. He was a little less than nine feet long, and his name is Eugomphodus littoralis. He has long, slender teeth, almost like horseshoe nails, each tooth having a sharp point on each side near the base. He is the only shark of our coast with such teeth. The species is found from Cape Cod to Hatteras.

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ALLITERATION.[3]

[3] From _New Games for Parlor and Lawn_. By GEORGE B. BARTLETT. New York: Harper & Brothers. _In Press._

Although this game requires close attention, it is much less difficult than it appears, for very young players succeed well in it after a little practice. The players are arranged in a circle, and to each a letter of the alphabet is assigned in order, from which he must produce a sentence every word of which begins with his letter.

At the expiration of ten minutes each one must read or say his line, in the order in which the players are seated. As it is harder to compose these sentences mentally than to write them, the manner of playing must be decided beforehand. The former way is better, even if the lines are shorter or less finished, as memory as well as invention is thus strengthened. A few examples are given below, which children can easily follow to the end of the alphabet.

"An aristocratic artist angrily argued against an ancient art article, anticipating all antagonistic announcements, and answering all æsthetic attacks."

"Busy bees brightly buzz by brilliant bowers, borrowing beneficent burdens by burrowing brown bodies below beautiful bean blossoms."

"Careless censure continually condemning can cause careful candor considerable consternation."

"Dainty deeds daily done dearly delight dutiful daughters."

"Each eager enthusiast exults every Easter, eagerly examining each Easter-egg."

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