CHAPTER I.

“Poor thing!” she said. “I think”—at this moment she suddenly stopped, startled by a thought which came into her mind, and remained silent quite a while. What she was thinking was something like this: “Suppose I should ask her to come up on the balcony? Then I couldn’t see the procession at all—and that wouldn’t do, after all my trouble to get a good place. I wonder if that would be doing what the man said—not pleasing myself? Maybe it would, but then it is such a little thing that I’m sure the King wouldn’t hear of it. If I could only please Him some _great_ way, how nice it would be!”

But I am glad to tell you, and am sure you will be glad to hear, that after this talk with herself, the little girl made her way down to where the old lady was looking about her.

“Good Frau,” she said, as the old lady turned to look at her, “I have a place for you to see the procession; will you come with me?”

Through the door, up the three flights of stairs, went the little light figure, followed by the older and feeble one. “I am afraid, good Frau, these stairs will tire you,” said Gretchen, “but it is the only place there is.”

A chair was then brought up from the Frau Van Cortlandt’s own kitchen, on which the old lady seated herself, after which Gretchen went to the bedroom down-stairs, and throwing herself on the bed, burst into a flood of tears. “I can’t help it,” she sobbed; “I did so want to see the procession! But I am not sorry, if the Prince knows.” Then she dried her eyes and went to the door, where she could see nothing but the backs of the people in front of it.

The Ellsworths had been in Berlin some weeks, and having seen all they wanted to of the city, were about ready to go back to America, but they stayed longer than they otherwise would have done, for the purpose of seeing the procession. And then, as Amelia said, “it was just perfectly horrid,” that, after all, the soldiers were not to pass in front of their hotel.

“I am determined to see the procession,” said Mrs. Ellsworth. “And so am I,” said Amelia. Nevertheless, they were acquainted with no one in Berlin who would offer them a place, and they couldn’t well stand in the streets, “with the rabble,” said Mrs. Ellsworth.

“Blees, your honors,” said Hans, their guide and interpreter, “I haf zomedings teu zay. Mein schwester hab ein house in der Steinstrasse, mit ein gut—vat you gall it—palgonie, vair you kon go, if blees you.”

“Let’s go, mother!” said Amelia, “anything is better than not seeing the procession, when we stayed in the city on purpose.”

And Hans, not in the least minding the doubtful compliment to his “schwester’s house,” agreed to drive them around there early enough to keep out of the crowd. So it came to pass that on the balcony of the Frau Krant’s house, across the street from the Frau Van Cortlandt’s, were seated, the morning of the procession, Mrs. Ellsworth, her daughter Amelia, and her sister Julia.

“Mamma,” said Amelia, “look at that cute little German girl across the street up on that mite of a balcony. See! she has gone down now.”

Sometime later, she had more remarks to make. “Mamma, that little girl went down and got a poor old woman to take her place on the balcony—see her up there—and she is down now where she can’t see a thing.”

“Is it possible!” said Mrs. Ellsworth; “that is an act of self-denial one doesn’t often see in a child. Are you sure she hasn’t a better place?”

“Yes, mamma, there she is, down by the door, where she can’t see anything, I know.”

“Then,” said Mrs. Ellsworth, “I am going to have her come up here. There is room between Julia and me. Hans!” and that individual, who had been talking with his “schwester” inside, appeared. “Tell that little German girl in the door across the road, that I would like to see her up here.”

“Mamma!” said Amelia.

“Ja!” said Hans, in his surprise returning to the use of his native tongue.

“She looks very neat and nice, Amelia,” said Mrs. Ellsworth.

So it happened that our heroine Gretchen was confronted by a dignified-looking personage of her race, who informed her that a Frau from America desired her presence in the balcony across the street. Gretchen was frightened, and vaguely wondered if she had in any way committed treason against the United States Government, but her trembling limbs carried her to the Frau Krant’s balcony, where Mrs. Ellsworth questioned her, through her interpreter.

The story all came out, in German and in English, how Gretchen had given up her place because of the King and his Son, whom she wanted to please. Said she, “I am only a little _mädchen_, but I thought He might know.”

By this time there came the sound of drum and fife and martial footsteps, from around the corner, and the eyes of all on Steinstrasse were turned toward the place whence the sound proceeded. Mrs. Ellsworth desired Hans to tell the little girl she could stay where she was until the procession passed, thus relieving her fears that she was to be arrested for treason, and she, in turn, committed her overwhelming thanks to the good Frau for a good place to stand.

That isn’t the end, though I am almost through. Gretchen says she would have been satisfied without a place on the balcony, or anything else, if she could have known that she pleased the King and his Son by not pleasing herself, but that didn’t hinder her being very thankful that she could see the Emperor and his troops, and Mrs. Ellsworth made up her mind that she wanted a nice little German girl to take home to America, and educate and help in various ways, in return for her services, and a nice German woman who could do her washing, and live with her, too.

So the week after the procession found the Frau Van Cortlandt and her daughter bidding the Herr Van Breyck good-by, as they boarded the steamer bound for America, at the Hamburg wharves.

Gretchen and her mother are still living with the Ellsworths, and though they are sometimes a little homesick for the “Fatherland,” they are enjoying their home in America very much.

The week after they reached home they ate the Thanksgiving dinner, with a huge turkey and its regular belongings, and though they had never been used to the day at home, Gretchen and her mother were as thankful, they thought, as anyone could have been. And the way to be happy and thankful as they would tell you, is to try to make others so. “And it all came about,” said Mrs. Ellsworth, “because of that kind and unselfish act of yours, Gretchen.”

“I am only a little _mädchen_,” said Gretchen, “but I pleased not myself, and the King saw.”

/* PARANETE. */

CELEBRATED TREES.

THE chestnut-tree at Mt. Etna, is one hundred and ninety-six feet in circumference, and its branches are like trees. For ages have pilgrims delighted to linger in its shadows. There is also a great chestnut-tree at Tamworth, England, and when Stephen was king, in 1135, it formed a boundary, called the “Great Chestnut-Tree.” I have also heard of one called the “Manna Tree;” they grow in Italy and Sicily. The bark of it is cut in August, and the manna flows out like water. It was used for medicine. It is unlike the manna mentioned in the Bible, called “Bread of Heaven,” upon which the Children of Israel were fed. That was a small grain, and fell early in the morning. It was made into paste, and baked.

The Bamboo is used mostly in making houses, in Sumatra, and when the great and good Dr. Judson was a missionary, his lovely wife, Anne Hasseltine, made themselves a bamboo cottage.

The India Rubber tree is also very useful. It grows in South America and India. In Quito it is made into cloth.

The Cocoa-tree gives the poor Indians bread, water, milk, honey, oil, sugar, needles, clothes, thread, cups, baskets, cordage, nails, roofs, etc.

The Bread-Tree of the Pacific Islands yields fruit for eight months of the year. Two or three trees will supply one person with sufficient food. It is very nourishing.

The Jaca resembles this tree; it grows in Asia. The fruit often weighs thirty pounds. When the tree is young it grows upon the twigs, later, on the trunk, when old, upon the roots.

/* R. */

LIKES AND DISLIKES.

THIS is a splendid game if well played. Form two lines, each facing the other. A leader goes down the centre asking the right-hand line, beginning at the head, “What do you like best?” Each one must answer just what he or she wishes to, funny objects of course adding to the jollity of the game. When Leader has finished, she turns around and goes up the centre, asking the left hand line, “What do you dislike most?” When all have answered, she claps her hands, and cries, “Now.” The two lines pass across each other, turn, and pass back again, turn to their original places, facing each other, when they remain still. As the lines are crossing, each player must sing “I love cheese,” or whatever he or she has professed to like, or, “I dislike cats,” or whatever he or she has professed to dislike, keeping distinct and clear, each his own utterance; _no one must smile_. After this is over, the leader must pass down and up the line, asking one side, “Why do you like it?” or, “Why do you dislike it?” Then the lines pass across, singing, “Because it is delightful,” or, “Because it is squealing,” or anything—turn, dance back again to places. The leader must then pass down and up the centre, asking each line, “What are you going to do with it?” When all have answered, the lines must pass across, singing their answers, turn, and pass back again, ending with each player singing “I like monkeys because they are funny, I’ll send them to school;” or, “I dislike pigs because they are squealing; I’ll cut off their heads;” or anything they choose. Pass across, turn, and pass back again, when two opposite players take hold of hands, beginning at top, pass down centre, bow to each other, and go off to their seat, continuing till all are seated. Whoever smiles during this game must be conducted out of the line and made to stand up against the side of the room, with their faces to the wall, where they must remain as wall-flowers till the game is finished.

P. S. This game is so long, we could only print one this month. Send on the games, Pansies, as soon as you can, that you wish to have printed in this department.

THE PANSY.

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