Part 4

"I gave him a talking to," said the little girl. "I told him it was perfectly 'diculous for him to act so; that he'd come to a real good place to live, where everybody helped everybody; that he was a minister's horse, and God would not love him if he was not a good horse. That's what I told him; then I kissed him on the nose."

"And what did Georgie do?"

"Why, he heard every word I said; and when I got through, he felt so 'shamed of himself he couldn't hold up his head; so he just dropped it till it almost touched the ground, and he looked as sheepish as if he had been stealing a hundred sheeps."

"Yes," said Reuben; "and when father told him to go, he walked off like a shot. He has never made any trouble since. That's the way father cured a balky horse. And that night when he was unharnessing, he rubbed his head against his shoulder, and told him, as plain as a horse could speak, that he was sorry. He's tried to make it up with father ever since, for the trouble he made him. When he's loose in the pasture, father has only to stand at the bars and call his name, and he walks up as quiet as an old sheep. Why, I've seen him back himself between the shafts of the old wagon many a time to save father trouble. Father wouldn't take two hundred dollars for the horse to-day. He eats anything you give him. Sis very often brings out some of her dinner to him."

"He likes to eat out of a plate," said Dove; "it makes him think he's folks."--_Golden Censer._

_Volume 13, Number 17._ Copyright, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & CO. _Feb. 27, 1886._

THE PANSY.

ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON.

BY MARGARET SIDNEY.

IV.

AND "St. George" he was from that day. George Edward was powerless to stop it, though he flew into innumerable small rages and offered to whip any boy who uttered the obnoxious name. They became silent, for he was good for his promises, they knew, but the girls took it up, and as he could not very well whip them, his sainthood grew speedily and beyond his control.

It was the day before Washington's Birthday. The snow was deep on the ground, piled high in drifts here and there, the air was clear, and the sun bright. Everything promised beautifully for the holiday to which the school looked forward on the morrow.

"St. George" ran home early from school, and flung down his bag of books on the sitting-room table.

"I'm to be off early in the morning, mother," he said. "Put me up a rousing good lunch, do."

"You are sure you can have steady fires in the house? Mr. Bangs' man can be relied on?" Mrs. Allen's voice was a bit anxious.

"Tiptop." "St. George" was busy extricating his foot from its protecting boot. "Now then, for my 'slips' and then the old books. I'll get these lessons inside my head and out of the way before night."

"Because if there is a little carelessness in this respect," continued his mother, "you might take a cold that would last you all winter. The only reason your father consented to your going, George, you know very well, was because the house is so near your playground that you could run in and get warmed whenever you felt chilly."

"Right on the playground, mother, you mean," corrected "St. George" with a laugh; "it's set on Sachem Hill itself--up in the clouds in a jolly fashion."

"There was one other reason," added Mrs. Allen after a pause, "and that was, he said 'I can trust George Edward.'"

The boy occupied with his other boot looked up quickly, said nothing, but a bright smile flashed over his face; and he jumped up, ran for his slippers, and settled down to work with a will.

The next morning was a fine one, and the nine o'clock train saw a gay party of twenty-five boys with knapsacks or bags containing lunch and skates assembled at the B. and A. Depot ready to board the train for Sachem Hill. Thomas, Mr. Bangs' man, had gone up the day before to open the country house left unoccupied since the family's return to town in the autumn. And he was already making fires, and getting things into comfortable shape for the boys' arrival for the grand frolic to which Wilfred Bangs had invited his very especial friends; the parents of the twenty-four boys only insisting that their sons should each carry his own lunch, to add to the hot coffee for which Thomas was famous.

So here they were. And a long grand day before them!

* * * * *

"Now see here, Old Saint"--one of the boys was thoroughly provoked and he meant to show it--"if you want to go around the world making yourself disagreeable, just keep on with that talk, 'we ought to stop' and so forth. Don't you suppose we know what we're about. There's plenty of time to catch that train. I for one shall have one more skate up the pond and back, and I'll bet you a new knife I'm at the depot as soon as you are."

"St. George doesn't preach," cried an impulsive champion. "And besides, he always _does_ first himself."

"Well, you hold your tongue," cried Wingate Morse, tightening his skate-strap; "I wasn't talking to you."

"Say that again, and I'll pitch into you," declared the champion with a very red face not altogether produced by the sharp air.

"Haven't any time," said Wingate, striking off. "Come on, all you fellow's who are able to take care of yourselves, and get one good glorious good-by skate."

All but two, the champion and St. George went, and their merry shouts came floating back as the pair left behind took off their skates, tossed them hurriedly into their waiting bags and set off on a hearty run for the depot.

"I wanted to go awfully," confessed the champion on the way, "but I'll stick by you, St. George."

"I'm unpopular," said the Saint, pulling up into a walk as they came into sight of the depot. "But I suppose that makes no odds so long as my mother isn't scared to death when I don't get home by the right time."

"They're lost, they're lost!" exclaimed the champion excitedly. "My goodness me! look at that smoke! She's coming in!"

Sure enough, "She" was. And having no time to lose other than the moment in which the champion wildly jumped up and down in a snow-drift screaming to the fellows, by this time at the head of the pond, to "Come on--she's in!" they soon found themselves in a comfortable seat, and the train pulling back to town at a smart rate.

"I lost my head," remarked the champion, "and that's a fact," as he stumbled along the aisle; "but then, I guess nobody saw me. Whew! but won't those chaps catch it, though, when they do get home."

Just then from the car ahead walked in Thomas, Mr. Bangs' man. He glanced anxiously along the car-length, peering right and left. When his eye fell upon "St. George" and the champion he brightened up, and hurried as fast as was possible with his rotundity down to them.

"Where are the rest of the boys?" he asked quickly.

"Left," said St. George concisely. "Skating up to the other end of the pond."

It was all told in a second. Thomas said something which it was well the boys could not hear in the noise of the bounding train, then rushed frantically back for the conductor, followed by St. George and the champion, on the way repeating--

"Master Wilfred told me he'd be sure to catch the train, so I came down the back way, and jumped on at the last minute. I didn't see the use of staying another night in that house."

By the time he reached the conductor, realizing the result of his unfaithfulness to collect all the boys and bring them safely back to town on the five o'clock train, the unhappy man was in such a state that the two boys had to take turns in explaining to that railroad official what the matter was.

"Do run the train back," cried St. George imploringly; "you'll be paid well."

"Are you wild?" cried the conductor sharply. "This train is bound for town with a lot of passengers who have something else to do than to turn back to hunt up foolish boys."

"But they will freeze to death," cried "St. George" and the champion together. "The house is shut, and there isn't a neighbor nearer than two miles." Thomas was too far gone to do anything but wring his hands and moan helplessly.

"Can't help that," exclaimed the conductor inexorably, "the world won't lose much. They should have obeyed orders then." He was terribly tired and half-frozen himself, and was getting very nervous at the predicament in which he saw himself placed. How to help these people in distress, and yet take care of his train, was more than he could tell.

"I'll stop at Highslope, though I don't usually on this night train; as it's the last into town, we run in pretty fast. There you can get a wagon or sleigh maybe and drive back ten miles and pick 'em up. That's the best I can do for you."

With that he broke away from them and began to take up the tickets.

TABLEAUX.

"WHAT is going on in the attic?" asked old Mr. Davidson one afternoon as he wakened from his after-dinner nap and heard some unusual sounds about the old mansion.

"Oh! did the children waken you? I am sorry," replied old Mrs. Davidson.

"Well, I reckon I have slept long enough," was the good-natured reply, and you will know by this that the old gentleman was good-natured, for it is well understood that to be wakened from an after-dinner nap is a test.

"I gave the young folks permission to look over the big chests in the attic," said Mrs. Davidson. "And I presume they will appear dressed in some of those old costumes."

Mr. Davidson was apparently satisfied with the explanation of the unusual noise, and settled himself over his newspaper. Presently a young girl fluttered down the staircase and entered the room where the elderly couple sat.

"Grandpa," said a fresh young voice, "we want to come and call upon you."

"Call upon me! Well, what is to hinder?"

"Well, we want to have it a sort of tableau; we want you and grandma to be the Emperor of Germany, and cousin John is to be the Crown Prince, and I am to be 'Vicky,' and we are to call upon you in state. Lannie is making your epaulettes. She will come and fix you and grandma, and tell you where to stand, then when we get dressed we will enter."

The old people laughed, but grandpa said:

"All right!" and when his wife would have demurred a little, he said, "We must make things lively for the young folks or they get homesick." The programme was carried out. The satin dress and mantle came out of the old chest, but those epaulettes and stars and badges! Let me tell you a secret, they were home-made, but you would never have guessed it. Cousin John upon inspecting the work, exclaimed, "Lannie, you are a genius; how did you know the way to do it?"

"Oh! there are ways of knowing things," returned Lannie, with a good-natured laugh.

After the formalities of the call had been carried out grandpa said:

"Now, will some one tell us who we are?"

"Not know yourself!" said one, laughing; "Lannie, tell grandpa who he is."

"Yes, Lannie, who am I, and what have I done to deserve the honor of this occasion?"

"Why, you are Emperor William the First, and this is a long time ago when you were younger and your grandchildren here were not grown up. And on the whole, I think this is before the war with France, at which time you gained great popularity. This is your son, the Crown Prince of Prussia, and this is his wife, the daughter of Queen Victoria. And these are your grandchildren."

"Thank you! I feel better acquainted with myself."

They all laughed at this and the callers withdrew. Mr. Davidson settled to his newspaper again, but presently he looked up to say:

"That was play. But we do belong to a royal house, eh, mother?" And the wife and mother smiled; she understood.

THEODOCIA.

SIR JOHN AND THE EREBUS.

THIS is a real Johnny. He was born one hundred years ago in England. When a very little fellow he was fond of the water. He would make little ships like the one in our picture, and slip away back of the barn and down through the bars, which he didn't always put up in his hurry to the pond among the trees. Here with his ship he would spend hours seeing the wind blow it from shore to shore. When there was no wind to make it skip over the water, he would puff sharp blasts from his cheeks against the sails.

He learned a great deal watching his ship. And he thought, may be, he would some day have a big one, be its captain, sail away off upon the ocean, visit distant lands and see strange people and strange things. And he did.

But he was going to school, learning fast and making many friends by his good conduct. His father told him one day when he came from school, right after tea, when they were sitting about the bright fire, that he wanted him to learn all he could and make haste and grow up a good man and be a minister of Christ.

But though our boy thought it would be a grand thing to spend his life telling about Jesus and his love, yet he thought also he could do it as well in a ship as in a pulpit. And when his father saw how much he loved the sea, how much he knew about ships, and how well he could sail his own little vessel, he consented. Soon after Johnny was taken on board the ship _Polyphemus_ as midshipman. He was a sort of servant, or a _cadet_, to carry the commands of the captain. Of course he was very happy. This was a first step to being captain himself.

But the _Polyphemus_ was a war ship. There was war at that time and many battles in which brave men suffered much and died.

He could not escape now if he had wished to. He did not wish to. One day the _Polyphemus_ met an enemy's ship and the cannon were soon sending shot into each other like leaden hail. Many dropped dead. Johnny did every thing he was told to, often going right in the midst of danger. He was brave. Not a shot, however, hit him. He was in many other dreadful battles on the sea where the shot were flying all about him; but he always came off unhurt.

Then, being now a man, he was put in command of a ship. He had sailors and soldiers under him. He said to one "go here or there," and he went; to another, "do this," and he did it. He was captain over a big ship, and at the call of his country, away he sailed over the great ocean to the North to find out what he could about things in that strange icy land. He was gone several years, and travelled many thousand miles. One day as his wife and some friends stood on the wharf where the ships land and looked out upon the ocean, they saw a little thing no bigger than your hand. Then as they kept looking and wondering what it might be, it grew larger and larger, and came nearer, and through their spy glass they saw masts, sails, and flags flying from the very tops, and then, behold! they read the name of the ship and they knew that it was the very ship on which, not Johnny, nor John, but Sir John--for that was his name now--had sailed more than three years before.

How the ship soon rode into the harbor and dropped her strong anchor into the water to hold her fast, and how the soldiers and sailors and Sir John came on land, and what he did and said and what his happy wife, Jane, did, and how handsome she looked I can't tell you.

But there's another part I will tell you next time.

C. M. L.

THE LITTLE SWEEP.

SEVERAL years ago, an effort was made to collect all the chimney-sweepers in the city of Dublin, for the purpose of education. Amongst others came a little fellow who was asked if he knew his letters.

"O yes, sir," was the reply.

"Do you spell?"

"O yes, sir," was again the answer.

"Do you read?"

"O yes, sir."

"And what book did you learn from?" continued his interrogator.

"O, I never had a book in my life, sir," said the manly little fellow.

"And who was your schoolmaster?"

"O, I never was at school."

Here was a singular case. A boy could read and spell without a book or master. But what was the fact? Why, another little sweep, a little older than himself, had taught him to read by showing him the letters over the shop doors which they passed as they went through the city. His teacher, then, was another little sweep like himself, and his book the sign-boards on the houses. What may not be done by trying?

A GAME FOR THE EVENING OF WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY.

DEAR PANSIES:

I want to propose a new game for to-night. Let us all see how much good our lessons on American History, and our knowledge of the life of George Washington, "first in the hearts of his countrymen," have done us.

You know that all our studying is for some good purpose; that it is to enable us to do grand service for God, and for others. You know every bit of knowledge upon any good subject is a powerful weapon to help us in the battle of life. God gives us our privileges, our schooldays, our fitting-time. Let us see to it that we make good use of them all--_every one_.

Now then, here is the game. Choose a bright boy or girl, one who loves history, and who has been careful to come to the class-room pretty well prepared the last year. You know who these nice scholars are. Now send Winthrop or Lucy as the case may be, out of the room, and all the rest of you get up as many questions concerning the early history of our country, before, during, and just after the War of the Revolution, being careful to let the interest centre in George Washington himself, his character, and services to America.

Now call Winthrop or Lucy in, and launch the questions, beginning at one end of your circle of players, and going in turn around the circuit, each player only asking one question, and the boy or girl who stands in the centre of the circle having three moments allowed in which to answer a question. If there is no clock in the room some one must give out the time--father or mother, or aunt Susan will doubtless be willing to do this. If the boy or girl cannot answer the question, he or she must be fined a forfeit. Then proceed with the next one in the circle asking a question--and so forth.

If it is answered correctly the one who asked it must go out, and the successful Winthrop or Lucy can hop into his place.

After this has been played as long as you like, save the questions (which some one in the room can write down, with the answers) and let every girl and boy look over them, and see if they could be answered better, in fewer words giving more information, and more correctly. In this way you will learn to make your knowledge available, and you will be quite astonished to find how much you do know about this subject.

Now for the forfeits, for you will probably have a fine pile to redeem. Let some one be blindfolded and seated in a chair in the centre of the room, while another player holds up each article, and dispensing with the other usual questions, asks, "What shall the owner do?"

He (or she) shall tell when George Washington's Birthday was first celebrated.

He (or she) shall tell some little anecdote of George Washington (not the cherry-tree episode). And so on, to end with a grand march two and two, through the parlors and hall, to the gayest tunes that a deft-fingered performer can give on the piano.

May you enjoy this "Washington-Birthday-Game" heartily.

MARGARET SIDNEY.

SOME REMARKABLE WOMEN.

J.--JOAN OF ARC.

JOAN OF ARC, as we call her in English; Jeanne D'Arc, as she was called in her native country; "The Maid of Orleans," as she is called in history, was the daughter of a French peasant. In her childhood and through her girlhood she was often employed in tending sheep, and so lived much alone. She grew dreamy and imaginative; and her young heart was much given to religious exercises. It is said that she used to spend hours at her devotions, and when she was thirteen years old her mind had dwelt so much upon the superstitious legends of those days that it was not strange she should in one of those exalted moods of religious fervor imagine that she had a vision, and heard voices speaking to her of the wonderful exploits she was to achieve. The people among whom she lived were ignorant and superstitious, and could very easily be made to believe in anything which had a tinge of the supernatural. Mythical stories of the saints, accounts of the doings of fairies and demons were told around every fireside, and the children eagerly drank in the strange tales. What you boys and girls would turn away from with a decidedly skeptical shrug of your shoulders, declaring, like a boy I know, "Ghost stories are no good!" these children of a dreamy, visionary people drank in as truth, and very solemn truth too. And so when Joan, walking in the shadow of the chapel, fancied she heard a voice and saw a great light, or when standing at the altar of the Catholic church she imagined the pictures of the saints coming out of their frames speaking to her, it is not surprising that the people of that neighborhood believed she really saw and heard these things. And when she imagined that she heard St. Michael speaking to her and telling her that she was sent to deliver her country from the English, some of the people believed it--but it appears her father with more practical sense than the others declared it was only a delusion, and sought to convince her of the absurdity of her wild idea. But she could not be persuaded out of it, and at length when she was twenty years old the king hearing of her and of what she considered her mission, sent for her and placed her at the head of the French army. A number of curious things are said to have occurred upon the occasion of her interview with the king. For one thing she recognized him at once among his courtiers though she had never seen him before. Then she told him of a certain sword hidden in an old chapel which it was necessary to bring out for her use, though it is said she never struck a blow; she only led the army, so I suppose an old rusty sword would do as well as any.

The city of Orleans was besieged by the English. This city was a stronghold of great importance to the French, but the starving inhabitants saw no hope of relief and would very soon have been forced to surrender. But Joan, the peasant girl, mounted upon a white horse, and wearing a suit of glittering armor, rode boldly forward until they reached the city. The French soldiers were so inspired by her courage that they fought their way bravely and the English on the contrary were frightened. Believing this young girl to be a witch, they were easily overcome, though their commander declared that her pretensions as to having had a revelation from heaven were all nonsense. But you see the English soldiers were superstitious as well as the French. And doubtless it was partly owing to their fright that the English gave way and the siege was at an end. Thus having delivered Orleans, the peasant girl was henceforth known as "the Maid of Orleans." She continued to lead the army on to victory, and finally the coronation of Charles the Seventh, took place in Rheims. Then Joan felt that her work was done and asked to be allowed to go home. But the king would not allow this and still kept her in the army. But she no longer heard voices. Her enthusiasm and courage were gone, and no longer successful, she was at length taken prisoner, tried and condemned to be burned as a sorceress. The sentence was carried out, the king whom she had helped to establish upon his throne never interfering to save her.

As a visionary enthusiast, we may not hold up Joan of Arc as a model; but as a noble, earnest-hearted girl, true to what she believed to be her heaven-given mission, facing difficulties and dangers in order to carry out what she deemed to be the plans of her Lord, we must admire her and do her honor. At one time she said, "I would far rather be spinning beside my poor mother; but I must do this work because my Lord wills it."