Part 1

[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.]

$1.00 a Year. MARCH, 1886. 10 cts. a No.

THE PANSY

EDITED BY "PANSY"

MRS. G. R. ALDEN

"PANSIES FOR THOUGHTS"

D. LOTHROP & Co.

BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A.

Copyright, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & CO., and entered at the Boston P. O. as second-class matter.

EPPS'S (GRATEFUL--COMFORTING) COCOA.

=CANDY!=

Send $1, $2, $3, or $5 for retail box by Express of the best Candies in America, put up in elegant boxes, and strictly pure. Suitable for presents. Express charges light. Refers to all Chicago. Try it once.

Address C. F. GUNTHER, Confectioner, Chicago.

GOLD MEDAL, PARIS, 1878.

BAKER'S

Breakfast Cocoa.

Warranted =absolutely _pure Cocoa_=, from which the excess of Oil has been removed. It has _three times the strength_ of Cocoa mixed with Starch, Arrowroot or Sugar, and is therefore far more economical, _costing less than one cent a cup_. It is delicious, nourishing, strengthening, easily digested, and admirably adapted for invalids as well as for persons in health.

=Sold by Grocers everywhere.=

=W. BAKER & CO., Dorchester, Mass.=

GOLD MEDAL, PARIS, 1878.

BAKER'S

Vanilla Chocolate,

Like all our chocolates, is prepared with the greatest care, and consists of a superior quality of cocoa and sugar, flavored with pure vanilla bean. Served as a drink, or eaten dry as confectionery, it is a delicious article, and is highly recommended by tourists.

=Sold by Grocers everywhere.=

=W. BAKER & CO., Dorchester, Mass.=

=BROWN'S FRENCH DRESSING.=

_The Original._ _Beware of imitations._

=Paris Medal on every Bottle.=

AWARDED HIGHEST PRIZE AND ONLY MEDAL, PARIS EXPOSITION, 1878.

=BABY'S BIRTHDAY.=

A Beautiful Imported Birthday Card sent to any baby whose mother will send us the names of two or more other babies, and their parents' addresses. Also a handsome Diamond Dye Sample Card to the mother and much valuable information. =Wells, Richardson & Co., Burlington, Vt.=

ROLLER AND ICE SKATES

BARNEY & BERRY

SPRINGFIELD, MASS.

40 PAGE CATALOGUE MAILED ON RECEIPT OF 2 CENTS

=LADIES= _can do their own Stamping for_ =Embroidery= and =Painting= with our Perforated Patterns, which can be easily transferred to Silk, Plush, &c., and =can be used over and over=. Our =new outfit= contains =30= useful Patterns (full size) viz.: 1/2 doz. Fruit Designs, for Doylies, one Spray each of Apple-Blossoms, Pond Lilies, Daisies and Forget-me-nots, Golden Rod and Autumn Leaves, Wild Roses, Fuchsias, Curved Spray Daisies and Rose Buds, corner of Wild Roses, Bird on Branch, 3 Outline Figures, Embroidery Strips for Flannel and Braiding, and several smaller designs for Patchwork Decorations, &c., with your own Initials in 2-in. Letter for Towels, Handkerchiefs, &c., with Box each of Light and Dark Powder, 2 Pads and Directions for _Indelible Stamping_, =85 c.= _Our Manual of Needlework_ for 1885 of over 100 pp., =35 cts.= _Book of Designs_, =15 cts.= =All the above, $1.15,= _postpaid_. _Agents Wanted._

=PATTEN PUB. CO.,= 38 West 14th St., New York.

=BEFORE YOU BUY A BICYCLE=

Of any kind, send stamp to =A. W. GUMP, Dayton, Ohio,= for large Illustrated Price List of NEW and SECOND-HAND MACHINES. Second-hand BICYCLES taken in exchange.

=BICYCLES Repaired and Nickel Plated.=

A GREAT OFFER.

Recognizing the superior excellence of the _St. Louis Magazine_, we have arranged to furnish it in connection with THE PANSY at the low price of $1.75 a year for both publications, the _Magazine_, under its enlarged and improved condition, being $1.50 a year alone. Those wishing to see a sample copy of the _Magazine_ before subscribing should send 10 cents to _St. Louis Magazine_, 213 North Eighth street, St. Louis, Mo., or send $1.75 _net_ either to THE PANSY or _Magazine_, and receive both for one year. Sample copy and a beautiful set of gold-colored Picture Cards sent for =Ten Cents=.

=HEADQUARTERS= FOR LADIES' FANCY WORK.

SPECIAL OFFERS!

We will send you our 15-c. _Fancy Work Book_ (new 1886 edition), for 3 _two-cent stamps_. A FELT TIDY and _Imported Silk to work it_, for 20 cents. A FRINGED _linen_ TIDY and _Embroidery Cotton to work it_, for 16c., _Florence "Waste" Embroidery Silk_, 25c. per package. _Illustrated Circulars Free._ J. F. INGALLS, Lynn, Mass.

FOR 10 CENTS.

The _St. Louis Magazine_, edited by Alexander N. de Menil, now in its fifteenth year, is brilliantly illustrated, purely Western in make-up, replete with stories, poems, timely reading and humor. Sample copy and a set of gold-colored picture cards sent for ten cents. Address T. J. GILMORE, 213 North Eighth Street, St. Louis. THE PANSY and _St. Louis Magazine_ sent one year for $1.75.

=BEAUTIFUL CARDS for SCRAP BOOKS=

New lot just published. Send 6 cts. to H. M. BROOKS & Co., Springfield, O., for a large new elegant sample of the above. Cata. Free.

=YOU CAN DYE= ANYTHING ANY COLOR

=With Diamond Dyes=, for =10 cts.= They never fail. 32 fast colors. They also make inks, color photo's, etc. Send for colored samples and Dye book. Gold, Silver, Copper and Bronze Paints for any use--=only 10 cents a pk'ge=. Druggists sell or we send postpaid.

=WELLS, RICHARDSON & CO., Burlington, Vt.=

=Mentholette= the true Japanese Headache Cure. Instantly relieves and cures Headache, Toothache, and other pains by simply rubbing. This curious remedy used in Japan for ages can now be had in Drug Stores for 10c. a box, a larger size, called MENTHOLINE, is sold at 25c.

The British Government awarded a Medal for this article October, 1885.

Dundas Dick & Co., 112 White Street, N. Y.--By Mail 10c.

BEWARE OF IMITATIONS, SOME OF WHICH ARE DANGEROUS.

="5$ Type-Writer."=

A practical machine. For information _Address_

=McClees-Millison Type-Writer Co.,= _Wichita, Kan. Agts. wanted._

=SPECIAL COMBINATION OFFER.=

The =WIDE AWAKE= one year, and the =Detroit Weekly Free Press= until Dec. 31, 1886, will be mailed on receipt of $3.60 for the two.

=The Weekly Free Press alone is $1.00 a Year.=

The _Detroit Free Press_ is one of the best, most interesting and purest family papers published. It should be in thousands of homes where it is not now taken. No family will regret having subscribed for this choicest of papers for their household.

=BABYLAND AND WEEKLY FREE PRESS, One Year, $1.25.

WIDE AWAKE, BABYLAND AND FREE PRESS, One Year, $4.00.=

A combination that will afford instructive and entertaining reading to a whole household for a year. Address

D. LOTHROP & CO., Boston.

=EVERY PANSY SUBSCRIBER=

Should possess the beautiful picture of "Pansy" which we have recently issued.

It is a very fine lithographic portrait, size 8 inches by 10 inches. =We will send two= of the pictures to any subscriber sending us _one new subscriber_ before May 1st, with $1.00 for the same. Address all the subscriptions to

D. LOTHROP & CO., Boston.

_Volume 13, Number 18._ Copyright, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & CO. _March 6, 1886._

THE PANSY

THE HAMLIN NURSERY.

THE little Hamlins were all down with the scarlet fever; and when we say the Little Hamlins, we mean Lucy, Cathie, Harry, Bertie, and the baby; five of them! It was a hard time in the Hamlin nursery, both for the children and the older people. Though Mrs. Hamlin had a nurse from the training school, besides the children's regular attendant, she was quite worn out with the care and anxiety.

"The very last Sabbath I was in church," said she to Doctor Wheeler, "Mr. Lewis said in his sermon, that even our afflictions had a blessing wrapped up in them. But I do not believe there is one inside this trouble. I can't conceive of any good that can possibly come out of it all!"

"Well, I don't know," replied Doctor Wheeler, "I should never have conceived of anything like that statue, yet it was inside the marble all the time, and plainly discerned by the eye of the sculptor. There are things in the spiritual world which we cannot conceive until they are revealed to us."

Poor Mrs. Hamlin shook her head doubtfully. She was very sure no good could grow out of this trial. Doctor Wheeler was a sweet-voiced little woman who looked upon the bright side of things and whom the children loved; they were very sorry for their little friend across the street who had the fever and whose father insisted upon sending for that gruff old Doctor Smith, who never had a smile for children.

"Your children have good constitutions and you have good nurses, I see no reason why they should not pull through easily," said Doctor Wheeler when Mr. Hamlin asked her opinion as to the prospects of the recovery of his little folks. "But what about that oldest boy of yours? Does he not have an Easter vacation?"

"Yes; and I suppose he ought not to come home?"

"Most certainly not! It will not be safe for several weeks; he must be kept away from this vicinity, though I hope the disease will not spread. You should send word for him to remain at the school through the vacation."

It was a very sober face indeed that presented itself at Doctor Brown's study door, a day or two after this conversation took place.

Doctor Brown was the principal of Howland Hall School for boys, and was the right man in the right place.

"What is it, Fred?" he asked kindly. "Come in and let me hear about it."

"It is this," replied Fred Hamlin, handing the Doctor his father's letter.

"Ah! Well, my boy, it might be worse news. You understand, the little folks at home are all on the high road to recovery, and it is on your account that you are not to go home."

"I know; but it will be dreadful lonesome here with the boys all away."

"That is so; and what will make it worse is, that we have planned a little trip which will take us all away excepting Mr. and Mrs. Jennings. I am afraid it will be rather doleful for you alone in this great house; but that will be better than the scarlet fever. Eh?"

Fred turned away in a very disconsolate frame of mind. The Easter vacation to which he had been looking forward was likely to be anything but pleasant. Now Fred Hamlin was by no means a model boy, and matters did not always go smoothly with him at home. His own mother died when he was a baby, and his grandmother had taken charge of him until Fred was ten years old. Then she too died, and the boy was taken home by his father. The second mother tried earnestly to win the boy's heart, but seeds of suspicion and jealousy had been dropped into the young mind, and he refused to be won. After three years of trial Mr. Hamlin concluded to send Fred to school. Doctor Brown had the reputation of being a strict disciplinarian, and Mr. Hamlin hoped much as a result of school discipline. But Watt Vinton, Fred's room-mate, knew very well that any such expectations were not likely to be realized. I cannot tell you of all the ways in which Fred contrived to make himself disagreeable to his quiet and gentlemanly companion. But so well did he succeed, that Watt, sometimes, with his face buried in the pillow, would whisper just to himself, "He is the hatefulest, meanest, crossest fellow I ever saw! I don't believe he has a particle of respect or love for anybody on earth!" Now perhaps you will almost doubt me when I tell you that the pillow was Watt's only confident. He never breathed a word of his troubles to a single person. There were several reasons for this reticence. Watt was an orphan, and had learned to keep his troubles to himself. He was too proud to complain; he had a notion that it would be more manly to endure annoyances than to make a fuss over them. It was only when he got out of patience that he took his troubles to his friend the pillow. This will explain why Watt Vinton frowned a little over a letter which he received a few days before the Easter vacation, and why he carried it in his pocket a whole day before coming to a decision in regard to one of its propositions. The letter was from his cousin, May Vinton, and here is one sentence from it: "Now that it is settled that you are to spend your vacation here, would you like to bring a boy with you? If there is somebody who cannot go home, or who needs a chance, whom you would like to bring, you may invite him to be your guest for the week."

It took Watt a whole day to make up his mind that he could do it. But at the end of the twenty-four hours he wrote to his cousin, "I am going to bring my chum."

Well, what came of it all--the scarlet fever, Mrs. Hamlin's trouble, Fred's disappointment, and Watt's sacrifice?

Do you suppose God knew that May Vinton could reach that wayward boy's heart, and help him to a better life, and so planned all this to bring about the meeting? Do you not suppose that he knew that Watt's sacrifice would make him stronger and better? It was a day or two after the boys reached the beautiful home of the Vintons that Fred sat in May's lovely room, chatting confidentially with her. Watt had been called to the library by his guardian, and the boy was left alone with the loveliest young lady he had ever met. Just how it was I do not know; Fred himself does not know, but it was not long before he was telling this new and it seemed to him first friend he had ever known, all his story; how nobody loved him, and how he hated everybody; how dreadful it was to have a stepmother, and a great deal of nonsense which to the mistaken and misunderstood boy seemed very solemn truth.

I have not space in which to tell you how May Vinton helped him to a better understanding of himself, and of his position. But at the close of one of the many conversations which they had during Fred's visit, he said:

"I see how it is! I have been more to blame than anybody else. But the boys have got so used to expecting hatefulness from me, they would never understand if I tried to do differently."

"Never is a long time," said Miss Vinton.

One day Watt said to his cousin, "What have you done to Fred? He is so different here!"

"Perhaps more will come of your sacrifice than you expected," replied May quietly.

"What do you know about a sacrifice?" asked Watt quickly.

A smile was her only reply.

More did grow out of it all than anyone would have suspected. May Vinton's seed-sowing was on good ground. By her love and sympathy she had softened the soil, and the heart of the friendless boy opened to the refining and elevating influences she threw around him, and a month later Watt wrote, "Fred is just as different as you can think. The boys all like him now."

FAYE HUNTINGTON.

SIX O'CLOCK IN THE EVENING.

SO THEY READ IN THE BOOK IN THE LAW OF GOD DISTINCTLY, AND GAVE THE SENSE, AND CAUSED THEM TO UNDERSTAND THE READING.

SO WILL I GO IN UNTO THE KING, WHICH IS NOT ACCORDING TO THE LAW; AND IF I PERISH, I PERISH.

BEHOLD, I WILL SEND MY MESSENGER, AND HE SHALL PREPARE THE WAY BEFORE ME.

THY THRONE, O GOD, IS FOREVER AND EVER; THE SCEPTRE OF THY KINGDOM IS A RIGHT SCEPTRE.

GRANDMA BURTON looked steadily at the first verse, and laughed. "I wish I could show you children the picture I see whenever I read this verse," she said. "Though I don't know as you would think I ought to feel much like laughing."

"Why, Grandma?" and, "O Grandma, tell us what you see!" and, "Grandma, show us the picture, won't you?" this was the chorus which greeted her laugh.

"Dear me! It isn't much of a story, but I remember it as well as though it happened yesterday. I was a little thing, not much over four, I should think. It was a warm Sunday, and first I see myself in church. I was in my best dress, a lovely white slip with blue stars all over it."

"Grandma, who ever heard of blue stars?" This from Marion.

"I did, child, many a time when I was of your age, and younger; it used to be the favorite print. Mine was very pretty and was made in the latest fashion--a yoke in the neck, and a long full skirt. I had slippers, too, with straps which went around my ankle and buttoned at the side; those slippers had just come in, and I felt very fine in them. I had a shirred hat of white mull, with a puffing of pink ribbon around the edge, and a pink bow exactly on the top. I went to church with father and mother; the high, old-fashioned pew was rather an uncomfortable seat; the only relief I had was to kick my heels softly against the back. I remember it seemed to take the ache out of them wonderfully. Generally I was a pretty good girl in church, but on this day I don't know what was the matter with me--I had the fidgets. Mother shook her head, and grandma gave me a caraway seed to suck, and father looked at me over his spectacles, but it all did no good, I could not seem to sit still. I plaited folds in my nicely-starched calico until mother took my hand and held it for awhile; then I took off my hat and tried to hang it on the button which fastened the door, until father took it away; then I turned the leaves of the psalm book until it scared me by dropping on the floor with a thud. Oh! I couldn't begin to tell you all the naughty things I did; but the last and most dreadful was to fumble in my brother Ralph's pocket until I found a little wooden comb which he always carried, then I softly tore a fly leaf from the psalm book, and before I knew it I went 'toot, toot, toot!' right out there in the meeting.

"I tell you, that was a dreadful minute!" said Grandma, looking sober, while her audience giggled. "I hadn't the least idea of making such a noise. It had never gone very well for me before, and I was as much astonished as any one could be to hear it sound out like that. The minister stopped in the middle of his sentence and looked at me with a solemn face. Father set me down hard on the seat, and mother's face turned the color of the red roses which were looking in at the side window. Of course they took the comb and the psalm leaf away, and it frightened me to think they went in my father's pocket. I knew I should hear more of it. After that I sat pretty still, but I did not dare to raise my eyes to the minister's face.

"I always used to like Sunday afternoon, because mother told us a story, and grandfather took us a walk through our own home fields and had always something sweet and interesting to tell us. First, though, we went to grandfather's room right after dinner, and each told all we could remember about the church service. I generally had my little story to tell, young as I was. Sometimes it was only a line of a hymn, or a little piece of the text, or maybe one sentence in the prayer. On this Sunday I had not a word to tell; try as I would, I could not recall a line or word. The only thing I could seem to think of, was that noise I made on the comb. Father asked the questions instead of grandfather, and that frightened me, because I knew father was displeased with me. 'What was the matter, Ruth?' he asked at last. 'Don't you think the minister spoke distinctly?' I thought a minute, then I said I didn't believe he did; for if he had, I should have remembered a little bit about it.

"'What do you think the sermon was about?' he asked. And I said, 'It was about Ahab.' I don't know what made me say that; only I had heard a story of Ahab only the Sabbath before, and he was in my mind. I thought from father's face that I had guessed right, so when he asked me for any words in the text, I thought I would guess again; and I said it was about Ahab's doing worse than all the rest of the kings. Then father turned to your uncle Ben, and said, 'Benjamin, you may repeat the text; do it slowly, that Ruth may see what part she has left out.' Just think how I felt when Ben repeated, 'So they read in the book in the law of God distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to understand the reading.' I cannot tell you how ashamed I felt!

"What do you suppose I did! I wanted to hide my face in mother's lap, and tell her how sorry I was; if I had done so, it would have been better for me. Instead, I slipped behind her chair and ran out of the side door. There stood the old well with the bucket full of water and the dipper hanging beside it. I felt very hot, and I thought I would take a drink of water to cool me; then if father asked why I run away, I could say I went for a drink of water. It was an unlucky day for me all around; what ailed that dipper I never could understand. Perhaps it was because I had my hat on; I was swinging that by its elastic when father was questioning me, so finding I had it in my hand when I slipped away, I put it on my head, and I think maybe the dipper hit against its edge; anyway, what did that water do but stream down over my starched Sunday dress, and my white dimity collar; and I never knew it until I drank my fill!

"Ben came in search of me, and led me back into grandfather's room, wet as I was, and struggling to get free. 'Put her to bed!' said father, in a voice which I knew must be obeyed. So I was undressed and laid in my trundle bed, and all that bright afternoon I had to lie there. My father wasn't over severe, children."--Grandma paused to say this, seeing disapproval in the eyes of her audience.--"You see I had been told not to help myself to a drink from that bucket because it was set too high for me; so, though I did not think of it at the time, of course it was disobedience. Well, I lay there, and the only occupation I had was to spell out the words of that text, to repeat to father the next morning. He sent it up to me all printed out on a card; I was just beginning to learn to read print, and I had to work hard, I tell you, to get it learned. But the worst was the next day. There was to be a ride on the lake in the afternoon, and I was to go. When I was all dressed, in my blue and white, made fresh for the occasion, father came in, took out of his pocket that dreadful comb, with the fly leaf of the psalm book wrapped around it, and said: 'Ruth, your mother and I have decided to give you a treat this afternoon while we are gone for our ride. You are to sit in this chair by the window, and make music on this comb; make it as loud and as much as you want to.'

"And if you'll believe it, they went away on their ride and left me sitting there!"

The children exclaimed over this, and Marion ventured to say she had no idea that Great-grandfather Wells could be so cruel; she was sure dear Grandfather Burton would never do such a thing; and as for papa, he _never_ could.

"Cruel!" said Grandma Burton, with a flash in her eyes which made them look like Marion's. "Never you call him that; a better father never lived in the world; only times are changed, that is all. Mind you this: I never misbehaved in church again; and I could always repeat the real text, after that, instead of stopping to make one up."

PANSY.

WALTER TAYLOR'S FAULT.

WALTER talked too much. He was simply irrepressible. He could never keep anything to himself either of own affairs or of the affairs of other people; either of his own opinions or what he might know or guess of the opinions of others. No secret was safe with him. Even family affairs took occasional airings through this propensity for talking too much. This one fault was likely to bring Walter into no end of trouble first and last, and, what was worse, to bring other people into trouble. One does not like to be obliged to be always on guard lest some private affair slip out in the presence of a boy or girl who will set it flying through the town. Mr. Taylor sometimes found his business sadly interfered within this way.