Chapter II: Part 2

Now I'd scorn to do a mean or sneaking thing, especially to Aunt Pam, but she didn't seem to care a button for that shawl. I didn't think it was worth twopence. She used to wear it in all sorts of weather, and it looked to me as if it was patched up out of bits that she hadn't any other use for. I'm sure she'd worn it since she was a baby. I could remember seeing that shawl around as long as I could remember anything, and it was just the thing for our cave. It was kind of like a Turk's best turban as to color; and when it was fixed over Bill Bates's bathing suit, and one corner hung down over the rock, it made the cave look bully. I went into Aunt Pam's room one morning, and found it thrown over the foot of the bedstead, like an old blanket, and I carried it off to the cave.

When I came home from school, I saw Aunt Pam out walking with a worsted thing that one of my sisters made for her, and I thought it was enough sight handsomer in the way of a shawl. I went on down to the cave, and when I got home again there was a regular hullabulloo in the house.

The girls were ransacking the closets, Aunt Pam was flying around like a hen with its head cut off, and everybody was turning everything inside out. "Maybe Tom's seen it," said mamma. "Tom, have you seen your aunt Pam's shawl?"

"That old thing she used to wear around?" I said.

"Old thing!" they all shrieked together. "Why, it's a camel's-hair shawl; it's worth five hundred dollars."

"Oh no!" I said. "I beg your pardon; there wasn't the hair of a camel, or even a cat, in the shawl that I mean; it was just sewed together on the wrong side like a bed-quilt."

"That was it, you ridiculous boy," said my sisters. "Have you seen it?"

"Seen it!" said I; "I've only seen it every day since I was born, and yet I remember it well." I went whistling away, and they began to rush around again for that shawl.

I felt pale under my whistle. Five hundred dollars! who'd 'a thought it? Down in the smugglers' cave! Goodness gracious! No wonder it looked just the thing. No wonder we all cottoned to that shawl from the start.

"I always told you something would happen to it," said mamma to Aunt Pam. "You flung it around like an old rag."

"That was the comfort of it," said Aunt Pam. "It couldn't be hurt. It could be worn in all weathers--to a wedding or a funeral, to church or to a clam-bake. It was always in the fashion, and everybody knew what it was worth."

"Except me," I said, under my breath.

"Oh, my beautiful shawl!" said Aunt Pam, beginning all at once to feel the full shock of her loss. The tears rolled out of her dear old eyes, and my sisters began to snivel, as they always did.

Mamma said it must be looked into, and for a moment I was scared. I thought of the smugglers' cave.

"What must be looked into?" I said.

"Why, the loss of the shawl," said mamma. "It must have been stolen out of the house."

Our up-stairs girl was passing through the room when ma said that, and she turned red and pale.

"Did you notice Maggie?" mamma said, when the door was shut.

"Oh, mamma!" we all cried out, for we thought the world of Maggie. I couldn't help wondering how it was she was so red and flustered, while I was as cool as a cucumber. Aunt Pam declared she wouldn't have Maggie's feelings hurt for the world; and I said she was innocent, in a deep low solemn voice, but nobody paid any attention to me. Then I stopped to think before I went on. How could I betray my comrades and the whereabouts of the cave? I remembered the last piece I spoke in school, and how I hollered out the words,

"O for a tongue to curse the slave
Whose treason, like a deadly blight,
Comes o'er the councils of the brave,
And blasts them in their hour of might!"

Could I be that traitor? No indeed--not much! Yet here was a dreadful row in the house, and the only way to mend matters was to get that shawl again as soon as possible. I resolved to get it that very night, and when I listened to an advertisement that Aunt Pam had written out for the paper, I saw my way clear. She said no questions would be asked if the article was promptly returned. That settled it. I went up to my room, and wrote out the following in a disguised hand:

"Secrit and konfidenshal--the shawl's all right."

I waited till after supper, slipped it under Aunt Pam's door, and going out the back way I took a cross-cut down to the shore. Now pa won't let us go out at night to play, and I think that's a mistake, because we can't get used to the dark if we don't. The whole world looked queer somehow to me by starlight. The moon hadn't come up yet, and at first I could hardly see my hand before my face. I never saw such ugly shadows, and once I had to stop and get breath before I could make up my mind to pass a clump of old mulberry bushes. Once in a while I heard a crackle behind me like a footstep, but I didn't look back. I knew my only chance was to plod ahead, no matter how my heart thumped or my knees shook. I thought of everything I could to bolster me up--of dear old Aunt Pam and poor little Maggie. But the sound of the waves on the beach was awful! They roared like so many wild beasts. It was as black as ink on the water, and the twinkle of the light-house seemed a hundred miles away. It was so lonely and wild that my heart was in my throat. And suppose, thinks I, when I get in the cave, the waves come up and devour me? Suppose somebody has crawled in there to sleep, some tramp or something, and he should catch me by the leg? Or the bank should tumble in on top of me? All my spunk was gone, and I turned to run, when, bunk! I came into something behind me.

"Ow!" I screamed, and "Oh!" exclaimed somebody, and wasn't I glad to find it was dear old Aunt Pam. She scared me, though, for she was as white as any sheet, and grabbing me in her arms, she began to cry over me.

"Tell me all, Tom," she said. "I got your note, and I followed you. You bad, wicked, dear little wretch, tell me everything. If the shawl's got lost, never mind, Tom; I don't care; only tell me, and come back home."

Poor, dear Aunt Pam! she told me afterward she thought I had done something to the shawl, and ran away in my fright. We were both pretty well broke up, and I couldn't help crying a little bit myself. But of course I couldn't go home now without the shawl. I began to feel as brave as a lion now Aunt Pam was there. The thing was to get her out of the way while I went into the cave. It looked awful down there in the hollow, and the wind was getting up, the water swashed around, and I couldn't help thinking there might be a tramp in there. All at once a bright thought struck me. Aunt Pam wasn't afraid of tramps; she wasn't afraid of anything. And, after all, it was her shawl. If it was worth having, it was worth going after. But how about betraying the boys? Another bright thought struck me. I'd make Aunt Pam one of us. She could say the words over after me, and she could crawl in and get the shawl, while I kept guard outside: and if anybody says Aunt Pam is old after that, they must be crazy. She said all the words solemnly, one after another; then she crawled in, and dragged out every blessed thing she could lay her hands on. I put 'em all back the next morning, and the best of it all was that Aunt Pam never gave us away. She just told the folks she found the shawl herself, and she did, you know--didn't she?

MATHEMATICAL PUZZLES.

No. 5.

Two boys kept neighboring apple stands, and each had thirty apples to sell every day. One sold his at the rate of two for five cents, and received seventy-five cents, and the other at three for five cents, and received fifty cents, the total being one dollar and twenty-five cents. It happened one day that one of the boys was sick, and the other engaged to sell the whole stock of sixty apples at the same rate. "Two for five, and three for five, that's five for ten," said he, and five for ten he sold them. But to his astonishment, when he got through he had but one dollar and twenty cents instead of one dollar and twenty-five cents. Now how did he lose five cents?

No. 6.

"How old are your children?" asked a lady who was visiting a friend, the mother of three beautiful daughters. "My oldest daughter is just double the age of my youngest daughter," replied the mother, "and the age of my other child is that of her youngest sister and one-third more. Their three combined ages make exactly the sum of my age, and I shall be sixty-six one year from to-day." What was the age of each of the three daughters?

THE OLDEST ROSE-BUSH IN THE WORLD.

They say it is the oldest, and who knows that it is not? I will tell you the story as it was told to me, and you shall see what you think of it.

There is a funny old town in Germany called Hildesheim, a little out of the way of travellers, but full of curious and interesting things, and over its fine cathedral walls climbs a rose-bush so large and strong that it may well be a thousand years old, as they say it is.

"A thousand years ago," said the sacristan, "the country all about here was a forest."

If you have studied history, you will see the story may be true so far, for you know Charlemagne became Emperor of Germany in A.D. 800, and that Germany was little better than a wilderness then.

"One day," continued the sacristan, "Louis the Gentle, the son of Charlemagne, went hunting with all his retinue in this forest. They had with them a box of relics."

Relics, you must know, were pieces of the dress of martyrs and saints, or something that martyrs and saints had touched in their lifetime, or perhaps even the bones of martyrs and saints.

"When they encamped for dinner, the gentle Louis wished to put this box of relics away very carefully, and looking about, he saw a beautiful blooming rose-bush, which must have been quite large even then, as he concealed the box in its branches.

"Perhaps they hurried away in pursuit of game after dinner, or perhaps they ate too much, and, as often happens in such a case, they forgot to be as religious as they were before dinner. However it was, at all events they rode away without the relics, and never missed them till the next day.

"Then Louis was full of shame, and declared they must ride back again, and never give up searching till they found the box.

"So they rode for many a weary hour, searching the by-ways of the forest--for there were few roads--till at last they all suddenly stopped, full of awe and wonder.

"It was a beautiful June day, and the birds were singing, and the flowers were blooming; but, lo! just before them they saw a glade in the forest where the fresh white snow lay like a soft thick carpet over everything.

"And yet it did not cover everything either. For in the centre of the glade grew a lovely rose-bush, with hundreds of bright blossoms upon it, and this was the bush in which the box had been hidden. Louis hastened forward, and grasped the box; but, lo! here was another miracle: it had grown into the wood of the rose-bush so firmly that it could not be taken away.

"Then Louis fell on his knees, and said he would receive this as a sign, and he vowed to build a cathedral on the spot.

"They called the snow 'holy snow,' because it had hidden the ugly remnants of their feast with its purity, but had left the rose-bush free, and they named the cathedral and the town which sprang up about it Hildesheim, which in old, old German meant 'holy snow.'"

It is certainly an enormous rose-bush, and its roots grow wide under the cathedral. Over them, in the crypt, is an altar said to be of pure silver, and it looks as if it might be. On the altar are heaped great bunches of artificial roses, which they persuade the ignorant peasants are actual blossoms of the rose-bush itself, even when it is leafless and bare in the winter.

I can not say that all the sacristan's story is true, but I know that the rose-bush of Hildesheim is the largest one I ever saw, and that the town is a very old place. Indeed, a few years ago, some wonderful gold and silver vessels were dug up there, which must have been used by an almost forgotten race. If any of you live near Washington, you can see copies of them in the Smithsonian Institution.

CROCHET PURSE.

This pretty purse will make a nice gift for some of our young people. It is worked with red saddler's silk in open-work double crochet, and consists of an oblong bag pointed toward the bottom, and furnished with small slits at the top on both sides. The purse is closed with two metal bars, finished with knobs, and joined with a chain and ring. An ordinary steel slide may be substituted. A metal acorn finishes the bottom. Make a foundation of 96 st. (stitch), close these in a ring with 1 sl. (slip stitch), and crochet the 1st round.--4 ch. (chain stitch), the first 3 of which count as first dc. (double crochet), then always alternately 1 dc. on the second following st., 1 ch.; finally, 1 sl. on the third of the first 3 ch. in this round. 2d round.--1 sl. on the next st., 4 ch., the first 3 of which count as first dc., then always alternately 1 dc. on the next ch. in the preceding round, 1 ch.; finally, 1 sl. on the third of the first 3 ch. in this round. Next work 24 rounds like the preceding round, but in the last 10 rounds narrow at intervals, and instead of 1 dc. pass over 2 dc., so that in the last round only 8 dc. are worked. Run the working thread through the st. of the last round, draw it tight, and set on the acorn. Then finish the purse in two parts, working on the upper side of the foundation st. 3 rounds in the preceding design, going back and forth, and in the last round fasten in the bars as follows: * 7 ch., pass over 2 dc., lay on the bar from the wrong side, carry the ch. across the bar to the wrong side, 1 sc. on the next ch., 7 ch., carry these over the bar to the front, pass over 2 dc., 1 sc. on the next ch., and repeat from *.

"ONT DAYKUMBOA."

In the parlor of a dear old-fashioned country house two elderly ladies are seated, one knitting, the other reading the report of yesterday's sermons, giving bits aloud now and then; on the carpet a little boy about three years of age is sprawling, apparently trying to swim on dry land.

The lady knitting is Miss Helena Oakstead, the lady reading is Miss Judith Oakstead, and the small boy is Master Ralph Oakstead, the eldest son of the youngest brother. If you go to the other side of the hall you will find the eldest brother (Master Ralph's uncle) in his study, writing an essay full of great big words. He is Professor Oakstead.

Master Ralph is spending the day with his relatives, and has gotten on with them very well so far, as his sister Daisy, two years his senior, whom he rules right royally, has acted as court interpreter; but she has just departed for a drive with a neighboring friend, and the aunts are left in sole charge of his Highness.

He is very gracious at first, looks over a picture-book with Miss Helena, and makes eager but unintelligible remarks respecting the "bow-wows" and "moos," to which Miss Helena answers, "Um, dear," as being the safest thing to say. But now he is silent, and has been so for at least ten minutes.

"How good Ralph is!" half whispers Miss Helena.

His Highness pricks up his ears.

"Yes, dear little fellow; and he has no one to play with, either."

His Highness sits up--he speaks.

"Ont daykumboa."

"What is it, dear?" says Miss Judith.

"Ont daykumboa," repeats Master Ralph.

"What does the child mean?" asks Miss Helena.

"I don't know. What do you want, Ralphie?"

Ralph, with a look of mingled contempt and pity at his stupid relatives, says, slowly but emphatically, "Ont daykumboa."

"Perhaps he is hungry. I'll go and get him a piece of cake," says Miss Helena.

The cake is brought, and promptly accepted; but it is evidently not the thing for which his soul longs, for after devouring half the slice he plaintively murmurs, "Ont daykumboa."

"Well, isn't that daykumboa?" says Miss Judith.

Ralph gives her a scornful look as sole answer, and finishes his cake in awful silence. As the last crumb disappears he sighs, "Ont daykumboa."

"What on earth and under the sun does the child want!" is the combined exclamation of the aunts.

"Perhaps Elijah can help us."

"Oh yes, he knows everything pretty nearly; but he may not like being disturbed now--he's writing, you know."

"Well, perhaps Victoria might be able to tell; she used to take care of children."

So Victoria is summoned from the kitchen. She is a tall majestic negress, who looks as if she had just stepped out of history. Her speech does not quite come up to her stately mien.

"Why, what's de matter wi' de chile?" she queries.

All of Ralph's reply is lost except "daykumboa."

"Well, come 'long wi' Victoria--she git you kumboa. What, ain't gwine to come? Oh laws! dat ain't bein' good bo'."

For Master Ralph has seated himself flatly on a footstool, and with his back against the wall, refuses in the dumbest of dumb-show to be entrapped into "gwine" anywhere.

Miss Helena suggests that they bring to him whatever they find that is at all likely to be "daykumboa."

So at the feet of his Royal Highness is laid such a queer collection of articles as never before appeared in that trim sitting-room: a _Child's History of England_, a bottle of mucilage, a pair of scissors, a coal shovel, a comb and brush, a bunch of flowers, a photograph album, a bottle of ink, and goodness knows what besides. Miss Helena ransacks her brains and her bureau, Miss Judith brings every portable in the room, and Victoria literally squanders the contents of her larder, but all to no purpose, and what is worse, his Highness, becoming alarmed at such unusual behavior, begins to moan "Ont daykumboa" in a way that draws tears to the eyes of his aunts.

"Judith," exclaims Miss Helena, "the case is getting desperate. We _must_ send for Elijah, no matter if he does get angry.--Victoria, just go to the study, and tell the Professor that he _must_ come here for a few minutes. Do you hear--_must_!"

Victoria, looking as scared as only a solemn-natured darky _can_ look, departs, and returns speedily with the Professor.

"Is anything the matter with Alcibiades?" he asks. Alcibiades, be it known, is what the Professor always calls Ralph--"for short," he says.

"He is in a most peculiar condition, Elijah--persists in calling for _daykumboa_, and we can not understand what he means."

"What is it that you want, my boy?" inquires the Professor, bending his dignified back and knees, so as to bring his gray head on a level with Ralph's "curly pow."

Ralph turns to him with an expression of relief, as much as to say, "Well, here's a reasonable being at last," and explains, "Ont daykumboa."

"And what is daykumboa?" says the Professor.

"Daykumboa," repeats Ralph, with a lingering hope that perhaps he is going to get some satisfaction; but this creature is just as dull as the rest, and his Highness, with great want of dignity, begins to whimper.

"The child seems to be in pain," says the Professor, standing up, and regarding his nephew with concern. "Perhaps he has hurt himself."

"I never thought of that," cries Miss Judith.--"Have you hurt yourself, Ralphie?"

"Ont daykumboa," is the only response.

"Looks like he gwine to hab a fit. I gib de chile a good warm bath, if I's you," suggests Victoria.

Miss Helena eagerly catches at the straw.

"That's a good idea, Victoria. Just fill the little foot-tub with hot water, and bring it right in here."

Victoria hurries off to get the bath, and the Professor, seized with a new idea for the explanation of the mystery, goes to his study to search his dictionary for "daykumboa" in some dead or living language.

The foot-tub is brought, and the aunts proceed to undress his Highness, whereat he waxes wroth. They persist; there is a frightful howl, a struggle, and the tub of hot water is very vigorously overturned among the photographs, scissors, and eatables that strew the floor. The Professor, in alarm, comes tearing in, a book in each hand. At that moment a patter as of small feet is heard in the hall, and a little figure with flying golden locks darts into the room.

Ralph rushes into her arms in a kind of ecstasy, crying, "Oh, daykumboa! daykumboa!"

"What is it that Ralph is saying, Daisy?" eagerly asks Miss Helena, in the lull that follows. "He has been wanting daykumboa all the afternoon."

"He says, 'Daisy come back,'" answers the little girl. "That's what you wanted--wasn't it, Ralphie?"

"Es, me ont daykumboa," assents his Highness.

The Professor regards his niece with humble admiration not unmixed with awe, and retires to his study to lay his dictionaries by. Victoria rolls her eyes ceilingward, and says, "Well, I declar'!" then falls to work picking up the ruins of their various offerings, and the two ladies turn to help her after a little silent astonishment.

Ten minutes after, his Highness is seen in the garden pouring sand down his sister's neck, and sternly ordering her to "fit 'till," when she objects, in a tone that makes his aunts wonder if this _can_ be the same boy who spent the greater part of two hours in wailing, "Ont daykumboa."

A SCARECROW NO SCARECROW.

An umbrella for a scarecrow
Was in a corn field placed,
And with loud caws the sly old crows
Around it gravely paced;
When suddenly a shower fell,
And under it they went,
And staid until the rain had ceased,
As in a little tent.
Then said they, as they all trooped out,
"_That_ man's a jolly feller;
Not only plants the corn for us,
But lends us his umbreller!"

* * * * *

=The Paradise of Insects.=--None but those who have travelled on the Upper Amazons can have any idea of the number and voracity of the insect torments which work their wicked will on the bodies of the unfortunates exposed to their attacks. The "sancudos," or small sand-flies, form by far the most important section. In the villages, round which the forest is cleared away for some distance, the sancudos are generally pretty quiet during the day, except where darkness prevails: there they are ever busy, and are a perfect plague. The triumphant note of a sancudo which has made his way under your curtains is more annoying than even his bite; and should you have been careless in getting into bed, and been accompanied by two or three of these blood-suckers, we will defy you to sleep until you have exterminated them.

In the forest and on the river the sancudos are always busy. Men sometimes get into the vessel's tops, and there cover themselves with sacks, notwithstanding the heat, rather than remain below exposed to their attacks. Fortunately they can not stand a current of air, and so when under way the vessel is comparatively free from them, but when at anchor these pests are something awful. To get rid of them is next to impossible. Creosote will keep them off, but the remedy is as bad as the disease. Whitewash will drive them away, but when dry its power ceases; and the only thing to do is either to cover all exposed parts of the body with black pigment _à la mode Indienne_, or else to "grin and bear it."

Scarcely less troublesome than the sancudos are the mosquitoes, although they have the negative merit of biting only by day. They are minute creatures, not much larger than a pin's head; they prefer the backs of the hands to any other spot for their attacks. But, unlike the sancudo, which, when undisturbed, gorges himself until unable to fly, and becomes an easy prey to your avenging finger, the mosquito never seems to take too much to prevent his easy escape on the slightest appearance of danger, being evidently just as wide-awake when full as when empty.

Everywhere in long grass lurks the "moquim," a little red insect so small as to be almost imperceptible, but which fastens on the legs, causing the most intolerable itching.

There is a fly which burrows in the skin and deposits an egg, both in human beings and animals. This produces a maggot, similar in shape to that of the common blow-fly, but much larger, probably analogous to the Guinea-worm.

Then there are "chigos," which burrow mostly in the soles of the feet. You feel an intense itching, and on examination find a little thing like a pea just under the epidermis; this is the bag containing the young chigos, which must be carefully picked out with the point of a knife, and the cavity left filled with tobacco ash.

Huge spiders abound, whose very appearance inspires a wholesome dread of a nearer acquaintance, but which are harmless enough if let alone. In fact, on board the steamers, almost every cabin is tenanted by one large spider, whose presence is tolerated on account of his being a deadly foe to cockroaches, which abominable creatures swarm on board. Sometimes he is not visible for a fortnight or more at a time; but he leaves tokens of "having been there," in the shape of the empty husks of cockroaches, from which he has carefully abstracted the interior. These spiders have the power of springing upon their prey from a distance, and some of them are so large and powerful as to kill and devour small birds.

In passing through the narrow forest paths it is necessary to be on the look-out for the wood-ticks, which are very difficult to get rid of if once firmly attached; also for the huge black ants, an inch and a half in length, with stings like a hornet's; and the saüba ant, without sting, but armed with nippers like a pair of surgical bone-forceps, which are running about everywhere. One may sometimes chance upon a column of the dreaded "fire-ants," marching in regular military order; and if he does, the only thing is to bolt at once, for neither man nor beast may withstand the fire-ant and live. When at length the traveller stops to rest, he must take care to examine the camping ground to see that neither centipede nor scorpion is there.

Frequently both centipedes and scorpions are found on the steamers, introduced, no doubt, in the wood used for fuel. One day, while the writer was watching the hands taking wood from canoes alongside, from one of the logs pitched on board was dislodged a scorpion, which fell on the naked left arm of a man keeping tally at the gangway. Astonished by his sudden flight through the air, the animal remained perfectly still. The man never moved a muscle, and quietly raising his right hand, flipped it away with his fingers and thumb. It was very neatly and coolly done; and he thus escaped a sting, which he no doubt would have received had he tried to brush it hastily away.

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Historical Stories

FOR THE YOUNG.

* * * * *

The Boys of '76.

A History of the Battles of the Revolution. By CHARLES CARLETON
COFFIN. Profusely Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, $3.00.

It is full of interest from beginning to end, and there are thousands of old boys, and girls too--from one to four score in years--who will read it with all the zest of youngsters. Mr. Coffin is an admirable story-teller for old and young, and understands how to draw a lively picture of the scenes he describes. His book presents a vivid personal and battle history of our Revolution, and it is profusely and strikingly illustrated with portraits and scenes on almost every page.--_Lutheran Observer_, Philadelphia.

Is not a book for boys alone, but a well-arranged and carefully prepared history of the War of the Revolution, profusely illustrated, with authentic sketches of battle-fields, historic places and buildings, nearly three hundred in all. * * * It is altogether a very attractive book.--_Observer_, N. Y.

It aims at giving a complete, though necessarily brief, view of the War of the Revolution, from the commencement at the battle of Lexington, April 19th, 1775, to the disbanding of the army at Washington's head-quarters, at Newburgh, N. Y., and the subsequent signing, on the 3d of September, 1783, of the treaty at Paris, between the English and American Commission. * * * The facts are carefully arranged, and are well told. All the prominent actors in the war are brought to light, and the exact dates of all the leading events are minutely given; and the whole is written in a spicy and often thrilling style. Conversations are introduced. Characters are happily drawn. The author is most happily fitted for such writing. He will always have the ear and the heart of every boy.--_Christian Instructor_, Philadelphia.

The Story of Liberty.

By CHARLES CARLETON COFFIN. Profusely Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth,
$3.00.

So long as boys and girls read intelligently such books as this, the country and the world will not swing back into the blackness of darkness. * * * We warmly commend to every household such a book as this.--_Observer_, N. Y.

The author has not confined himself to the English sources of the current which it is his business to trace. That current was largely fed from all over the continent of Europe, and the whole broad field of European history Mr. Coffin may be said to have explored in search of his materials. He has combined these into an orderly, graphic, spirited narrative, with a ready eye for the picturesque points of fact and a skilful handling of the more dramatic situations. * * * The great events which fill the pregnant period under review are grouped about the central idea of the book with a good sense of proportion.--_Congregationalist_, Boston.

Authentic history put in the most attractive form. * * * Its simplicity, fulness, and purity of style will make it a favorite volume with all who love historical studies. * * * We hope that a book so full of good healthy reading will be placed in the hands of many thousands of the boys and girls of America.--_Lutheran Observer_, Philadelphia.

Mr. Coffin avoids the formality of historical narrative, and presents his material in the shape of personal anecdotes, memorable incidents, and familiar illustrations. He reproduces events in a vivid, picturesque narrative.--_New York Tribune._

* * * * *

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PITTSBURGH TELEGRAPH.

* * * * *

AN INVOLUNTARY VOYAGE.

By LUCIEN BIART,

Author of "Adventures of a Young Naturalist."

TRANSLATED BY

Mrs. CASHEL HOEY and Mr. JOHN LILLIE,

ILLUSTRATED.

12mo, Cloth, $1.25.

* * * * *

A very charming book, brimming full of adventures, and has not an uninteresting page between its covers.--_Baltimore Gazette._

A book that is at once novel and entertaining. * * * All the book is lively, and the voyagers have some adventures, the telling of which is as entertaining as any book of Jules Verne's, besides having nothing in them that is improbable or extravagant.--_Philadelphia Bulletin._

A most enchanting story for boys. * * * It is a story of adventure, and also contains much interesting and useful information.--_Pittsburgh Telegraph._

A narrative crowded with adventure, told in the lively and graphic style for which the French writers of books for boys are so noted.--_Cleveland Herald._

One of the most attractive books of the season. * * * Spirited sketches of travel and adventure on the ocean wave, among the islands and on southern coasts, fill these chapters. But the main point which gives them their highest flavor is the experience of naval warfare during our late civil conflict.--_Observer_, N. Y.

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, N. Y.

_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price._

A BOOK FOR EVERYBODY.

* * * * *

Ninth Edition now Ready.

* * * * *

=HOW TO GET STRONG, AND HOW TO STAY SO.= By WILLIAM BLAIKIE. With Illustrations. 16mo, Cloth, $1.00.

* * * * *

Your book is timely. Its large circulation cannot fail to be of great public benefit.--Rev. HENRY WARD BEECHER.

It is a book of extraordinary merit in matter and style, and does you great credit as a thinker and writer.--Hon. CALVIN E. PRATT, _of the New York Supreme Bench_.

A capital little treatise. It is the very book for ministers to study.--Rev. THEODORE L. CUYLER, D.D., _in New York Evangelist_.

It is unquestionably one of the most practical and useful books on this topic which have ever been published in this country.--_N. Y. Evening Express._

We know of no man in America more capable of writing such a book, or who has a better right to do so.--_Rutland Daily Herald, and Globe._

It will pay any person--whether a farmer or lawyer, laborer or idler, school-girl or housewife--to buy and read it, and follow its teachings.--_Springfield Union._

A veritable treasury of muscular common-sense.--_Charleston News and Courier._

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price._

MODEL WORKING

TOY ENGINES AND FIGURES.

We send Engine, Figures, Pulleys, &c., all complete as per cut, and in working order, by mail, for $1.25.

PECK & SNYDER,

124 and 126 Nassau Street, N. Y.

_The Fairy Books._

* * * * *

THE PRINCESS IDLEWAYS. By Mrs. W. J. HAYS. Illustrated. l6mo, Cloth, 75 cents.

* * * * *

THE CATSKILL FAIRIES. By VIRGINIA W. JOHNSON. 8vo, Illuminated Cloth, Gilt Edges, $3.00.

* * * * *

FAIRY BOOK ILLUSTRATED. l6mo, Cloth, $1.50.

* * * * *

PUSS-CAT MEW, and other New Fairy Stories for my Children. By E. H. KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN, M.P. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1.25.

* * * * *

FAIRY BOOK. The Best Popular Fairy Stories selected and rendered anew. By the Author of "John Halifax." Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1.25.

* * * * *

FAIRY TALES. By JEAN MACÉ. Translated by MARY L. BOOTH. Illustrated. 12mo, Bevelled Edges, $1.75; Gilt Edges, $2.25.

* * * * *

FAIRY TALES OF ALL NATIONS. By É. LABOULAYE. Translated by MARY L. BOOTH. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, Bevelled Edges, $2.00; Gilt Edges, $2.50.

* * * * *

THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE. By the Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman." Illustrated. Square 16mo, Cloth, $1.00.

* * * * *

FOLKS AND FAIRIES. Stories for Little Children. By LUCY CRANDALL COMFORT. Illustrated. Square 4to, Cloth, $1.00.

* * * * *

THE ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE, as Told to my Child. By the Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman." Illustrated. Square 16mo, Cloth, 90 cents.

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price._

WHAT MR. DARWIN SAW

In His Voyage Round the World in the Ship "Beagle."

ADAPTED FOR YOUTHFUL READERS.

Illustrated, 8vo, Cloth, $3.00.

* * * * *

A capital book on natural history for young readers.--_Hartford Courant._

A superb volume filled with maps and pictures of beasts, birds, and fishes, as well as the faces of all sorts of men, and with all this a most delightful story of real travel round the world by a very famous naturalist.--_Christian Intelligencer_, N. Y.

To the intelligent boy or girl the book will be a perfect bonanza. * * * Every statement it contains may be accepted as accurately true. * * * This book shows once more that truth is stranger than fiction.--_Philadelphia North American._

It can scarcely be opened anywhere without conveying interest and instruction.--_S. S. Times_, Phila.

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price._

FRAGRANT

SOZODONT

Is a composition of the purest and choicest ingredients of the vegetable kingdom. It cleanses, beautifies, and preserves the =TEETH=, hardens and invigorates the gums, and cools and refreshes the mouth. Every ingredient of this =Balsamic= dentifrice has a beneficial effect on the =Teeth and Gums=. =Impure Breath=, caused by neglected teeth, catarrh, tobacco, or spirits, is not only neutralized, but rendered fragrant, by the daily use of =SOZODONT=. It is as harmless as water, and has been indorsed by the most scientific men of the day. Sold by druggists.

"_A book beyond the pale of criticism._"

N. Y. DAILY GRAPHIC.

* * * * *

THE

Boy Travellers in the Far East.

* * * * *

ADVENTURES OF

TWO YOUTHS IN A JOURNEY

TO

JAPAN AND CHINA.

Illustrated, 8vo, Cloth, $3.00.

* * * * *

A more attractive book for boys and girls can scarcely be imagined.--_N. Y. Times._

The best thing for a boy who cannot go to China and Japan is to get this book and read it.--_Philadelphia Ledger._

Juvenile literature seems to have come to a climax in this book. In literary quality and in material form it is a decided improvement on anything of the kind ever before produced in America.--_N. Y. Journal of Commerce._

One of the richest and most entertaining books for young people, both in text, illustrations, and binding, which has ever come to our table.--_Providence Press._

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, N. Y.

_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price._

"_A nice Gift for Children._"

PITTSBURGH TELEGRAPH.

* * * * *

THE PRINCESS IDLEWAYS.

A FAIRY STORY.

Illustrated., 16mo, Cloth, 75 cents.

* * * * *

Written in a simple but charming manner, and illustrated by beautiful pictures, so that a youngster just past the first reading-hook would appreciate every word.--_Christian Intelligencer_, N. Y.

The illustrations are worthy of special commendation. Any so airy, pretty, and full of grace, have rarely appeared in any American book for children.--_Hartford Courant._

The language in which it is told is so pure and agreeable, that parents and good bachelor uncles will find it a pleasure to read it aloud to the little ones.--_Boston Courier._

* * * * *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, N. Y.

_Sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price._

WIGGLES.

Of these two Wiggles, the first is what our artist makes of the outline given in No. 4 of _Harper's Young People_, and the second is a new Wiggle, in which we hope our young readers will take as much interest as they have in those already published.

During this new year we anticipate much pleasant intercourse with our young friends. We thank them heartily for the favors already received, which from their genuine childishness we know have come direct from their own little hearts and hands. Our paper is received by children who live in all parts of this country, in England, Germany, France, South America, Cuba, and Mexico; and we would like to offer them a few suggestions which, if faithfully carried out, will add interest to our Post-office Box, and give much valuable information.

In the first place, many of you have household pets--birds, squirrels, fishes, turtles, and other little live creatures. We are sure of this, because already some of you have asked us questions regarding the care of them. Now, if you watch your pets carefully, you will learn many pretty facts of natural history; and it would do you good, and please us, if you would write us about their habits, what food they like best, and how they behave. If your communications are brief enough, we shall gladly print them.

Then as spring comes on--and it will come very soon to some of you in the South--watch for the first spring flowers, the sweet trailing arbutus, the pretty violets and wind-flowers, the crocuses, and other early spring blossoms, and tell us when you find them, and in what pretty corner they were nestled in the woods, among bushes by the old stone wall, or in the open sunny field. Let us see what little girl or boy will find the first willow "pussies." And you will all be interested to learn how much earlier the spring blossoms come to you who live South and West than to you in Maine and Canada.

Then there will be the coming of the birds to watch for--the robins and bluebirds; some of you will see them all winter, and the dear little snow-birds, which sing and hop about so merrily on cold, biting mornings when your own little fingers are half frozen as you scamper to school over the snow crust. Watch all these beautiful things of nature, dear children, and write us whatever you find out from your own personal observation.

In that way our Post-office Box will become a delightful and instructive natural history exchange between the little folks of all sections of the country. Perhaps, also, the children in England and other lands beyond the sea will now and then favor us with bits of information about their own birds and flowers. You must excuse us for writing so much, leaving not room enough to print half of your own pretty communications.

* * * * *

"Earl" writes from Chicago: "I live on the West Side, and the ponds are frozen strong enough for skating. I have been skating twice at Jefferson Park." That does not look much like hunting for willow "pussies," does it? And perhaps you are laughing, because we remind you of spring now just when you are beginning to plan for skating parties. But willows grow all around the ponds where you skate, and you will never see the bare twigs without wondering how soon you can write and tell us the downy "pussies" have appeared.

* * * * *

I am six years old, and I live in Hastings, Nebraska. I like
_Harper's Young People_ very much. I have a duck, a chicken, a pig,
and a little rat dog whose name is Jip. I would like to know how to
teach him to catch rats. He by accident caught one the other day,
fastened in the pig-pen fence, and killed it before it got loose.

ARTHUR S. N.

* * * * *

QUINCY, ILLINOIS.

My papa takes your paper for little folks, and I like it first
rate. The stories in it are very good. It is hard for me to say
which I like best. I wish you could see my pet chicken.

MARY E. M.

* * * * *

WILLIE J. M.--In gardens and hot-houses, where they are not liable to accident, toads have been known to attain the age of thirty-five and even forty years. The wonderful stories sometimes told of living toads being found imbedded in solid rock, where they must have been imprisoned for ages, or in the heart of ancient trees, are not well authenticated, and such cases have never come under the observation of scientific men.

* * * * *

NEW YORK CITY.

I am very much obliged to you for telling me how to feed and house
my land turtle. I have also three water turtles, one bull-frog, two
large toads, and twenty small toads. Please tell me how to feed
them. I keep them in a large yard, and I never feed them, so I
often wonder how they live. Your paper is getting better every
week, and the story about "Photogen and Nycteris" is about the best
you have published.

LYMAN C.

Your toads have found plenty of insects for food in the yard where you keep them. They might be taught to eat sugar, but they prefer a diet of worms, ants, and small bugs. They will probably crawl under a stone or into some hole, and lie numb all winter. Bull-frogs also eat worms and insects, and very large ones are said to eat even small animals, such as mice and moles. Water turtles eat the stems of water-weeds and small mollusks, but they can live a long time without food. They might eat bits of bread. You can try and see. Both they and your bull-frog would be grateful if you gave them a tank of water to swim in.

* * * * *

Welcome letters are acknowledged from Mamie T., Orange, New Jersey; Althea B., Macon City, Missouri; F. Coggswell, Hudson, Wisconsin; H. W. Singer, Cincinnati, Ohio; Ernest B. C., Shelbyville, Tennessee; Willie E. H., Hartford, Connecticut; and Dorsey Coate, Wabash, Indiana.

Procure a long, narrow boy, lay him on his back, and fasten ropes to his legs, and your sled is ready for use.]

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, January 6, 1880, by Various