Chapter II: Part 2

Sometimes composers have simply called a piece an "allegro," just as Milton called his famous poem "L'Allegro." You will find it often modified by some other word, like _allegro assai_ or _con brio_, meaning a quick allegro; and if you go to a large concert, and have some knowledge of the music to be played, you may be surprised to find that the orchestra will take the _allegro_ rather more slowly than you would if you were playing at home. But this is a sort of unwritten rule which governs performers in a large hall. To me the word written beside my music as I turn the page seems to mean some fair and smiling country, peace and plenty, joyful content, the gay look of youth, and the sweetness of a gentle life. Try to play some _allegro_ movement, thinking of these happy things, and see if your fingers do not move more readily.

The term _andante_ used only to be employed in its most literal sense, which means _going_, and they then put other words with it, but now it is only used to mean _going slowly_. Beethoven has written many pieces just known as _andantes_. The word is constantly used to express a slow and solemn movement, but _adagio_ means something even more stately and pathetic. _Presto_ means a quick, sudden movement; it comes in often as a change from a richer, fuller sound. _Scherzo_, a term you will constantly see, literally means a _jest_, but it is employed to designate a humorous or lively movement.

These are, as you must know, only a few of the many terms employed in music, but I have given you their significations chiefly because they have to do with the arrangement of the sonata and the symphony.

Some day I shall hope to tell you a great deal about famous sonatas and symphonies, and concertos also, but here I can only give you some of the rules which have to be employed in their composition. All this, I am sure, ought to be very thoroughly understood by any one who plays a sonata or wishes to fully enjoy listening to one.

Originally the sonata consisted of slow, solemn movements when it was for church music, and of one or two only when it was for secular music, but the form in which we have it now is called the modern sonata, and _must_ consist of four movements.

First comes an _allegro_. This has two of what are called _themes_, or subjects, one in the _tonic_ or key-note, the other in what is called the _dominant_. This is the fifth note above the key-note. For example, should the first theme of an allegro be written in C, the second would have to be in G. It is called _dominant_, because the key of any passage can not be accurately known unless it has this note for root. Should the first theme of the sonata be written in the _minor_ key, then the second would have to be in the relative major.

The second movement of the sonata is the _andante_. This has usually one theme or subject, and it is in a key which _relates_ in some way to the tonic or leading key. I give you these rules simply, but they are worth remembering as first steps to much deeper study.

The third movement is a _minuet_ or _scherzo_ (this was introduced by Beethoven). The fourth movement is again an _allegro_, or _presto_, or _rondo_. Here we go back to the original key, but there is only one theme, and this is often gone over and over in various ways. Now, then, with these rules to govern them, musicians are allowed certain licenses, so that occasionally you will find a sonata written not quite in this form. Schubert, a wonderful composer, often disregarded rules in his sonatas, and occasionally Beethoven did the same. To Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven we owe the sonata as we have it now, and for beginners I should recommend Haydn and Mozart as the simplest reading and best music to begin upon.

A _symphony_, properly speaking, is an elaborate work like the _sonata_, divided into movements, but arranged chiefly with a view to orchestration. Any number of instruments may be used, and solos for different instruments are introduced. Sometimes voices are added, as in the famous Ninth Symphony of Beethoven. This is often called the Choral Symphony. The first writer of genuine symphonies was Boccherini, and Haydn brought them nearer to the form in which we have them. Mozart did a little more, and Beethoven perfected them.

Boccherini's music is often very dull, yet someway I like to think of him, and to hear his symphonies. He must have been a very interesting man to know. He was kindly, good-humored, and generous, and in the last century he played divinely on the 'cello. Often he was very poor; he led a wandering life, and wrote some delicious bits of music to pay for his dinner. In those days musical opportunities were rare, and yet good musicians often lived and died unappreciated. We of to-day owe poor, gentle Boccherini a great deal. I well remember a dull day in London, when at the house of a famous artist I heard some of his music rehearsed by the greatest musicians in the world. They were preparing for a concert, and asked a few friends to hear this impromptu practice. I thought how glad poor Boccherini (who died in 1805, fairly tired of his cruel life) would have been to hear such musicians render his work. Somehow it seemed to shut out all the fog and cheerlessness of the square below the window in which I sat.

THE LAST OF THE ICE.

"That's the end of the skating for this winter," said Jerry McDonald, mournfully.

"It'd have lasted three weeks longer," growled Put Giddings, "if it hadn't been for Captain Myers and his old steamer." And Pat Farrel added:

"What for did he come alongshore and smash the best ice there was left? It's foine big pieces he made of it, but they're no good for skatin'."

Either old Captain Myers was a man with no heart for fun of that kind, or he thought there had been enough of it that winter, for he had driven the hard nose of his steamer right through the smooth surface of the cove below toward the spot where he made his landings in the summer, and there was no such thing as saying too much for the style in which he had smashed the ice. There was just a narrow strip left right close to the beach, and there was no good skating to be had on that.

"There's lots of it," said Jerry, "but it won't freeze to bear again. It'd be rougher'n ploughed ground if it did."

"Some of the chunks are big ones," remarked Put. "That's the way the icebergs get away from the north pole. They break away in the spring, and they float down south and melt."

"'Dade," exclaimed Pat Farrel, "an' don't I wish owld Myers was on wan of thim icebergs!" But Put went right along in spite of the interruption:

"And if a white bear gets caught on an iceberg, he gets floated away with and drowned, unless the menagerie men send out an expedition and save him."

"Those icebergs out there wouldn't float a dog," said Bill Thatcher. But Pat Farrel came to Put's help:

"Wouldn't they, now? That big wan, close inshore, would carry any wan of us."

"No, it wouldn't."

"Yes, it would."

They were right in the middle of the argument about that cake of ice, when Put Giddings, who had gone to the edge of the solid strip to study the matter, gave a little run and a sliding jump. He hardly knew why he did it, but it landed him right in the middle of that cake of ice, and the shove he gave it sent it several feet away from its moorings.

"Here I am, boys! What do you think of this for an iceberg?"

"Wid a young bear on it," said Pat.

"Keep your balance," shouted Bill Thatcher. "How'll you ever get ashore?" And Mum Robbins remarked:

"It's just like Put. He's always doing something."

"Don't she rock, though!" said Put, bravely. "Wish I had something to steer with."

"What for?" asked Pat. "Did you ever see an iceberg wid a rudder?"

"Put," said Mum Robbins, "you're a-floating. There'll have to be an expedition sent after you."

"And save him, and put him in a menaygerie," said Pat. "It's a foine bear he'd make."

"If he doesn't stand still in the middle of it, he'll tip it over," began Bill Thatcher. But Put had been studying his own chances, and he shouted:

"Boys, just one of you go and get a fence rail. I'll come ashore and let some of you try it. It's the biggest cake around here."

"Are you getting scared?"

"Does it teter much?"

There were a good many remarks made, but quite a squad of boys set off after a fence rail, while Bill Thatcher called out:

"Stand still right there in the middle. It wouldn't take much to tip her over."

"Rock her," said Pat Farrel. "Mebbe you kud rock her right back to the shore."

"When an iceberg gets loose," said Bill Thatcher, "it just floats away. It doesn't go back to the pole and freeze on again."

"Boys," exclaimed Put, "they'll have to bring a good long rail. The water's getting wider and wider."

So it was, and somehow it had a look of being colder and colder, and it looked both wider and colder to the boy on the iceberg than it did to any of the other young bears alongshore.

The cake was a wide one, and it was floating pretty well, but Put Griddings should not have taken Pat Farrel's advice about rocking it.

There was a sudden dull cracking sound right under the unsteady feet of Put Giddings. In a second or so more there were four or five small cakes of ice on that spot of water instead of one big piece, and right in among them was the cap of an unlucky boy, and from under the cap there came a loud and astonished yell.

"The iceberg's busted!"

"Put's broke in!"

"Hurry up that rail!"

There were shouts enough, and there would have been a panic if it had not been for Jerry McDonald.

"Swim, Put," he shouted. "Catch the end of my tippet. It's the longest kind of a tippet. Catch."

Put himself was quite cool about the matter, now he had yelled. In fact, almost anybody can keep cool in such ice-water as that was. The distance was not great, but the tippet was thrown out three times before the swimmer caught the end of it.

"Now, Bill," said Jerry, "we've got him. Grab me round the waist, and look out you don't slip. He's a-coming!"

So he was, for all the world as if he was a big fish and they had hooked him; but just as he came near the solid ice, and Bill and Jerry began to strain harder than ever, the rescued "bear" suddenly arose in the water until he stood half out of it.

"Pull!" shouted Jerry, with his nose in the air, and an anxious look on his face. "We've 'most got him."

"They've got him, boys!" yelled a youngster who was hurrying up with a fence rail twice as long as himself, but Put Giddings was as cool as ever.

It was easy enough to get out and start for home; but it was very mean of Pat Farrel to remark, "Put, me b'y, ye'd betther dance all the way."

"B-b-boys," replied Put, "if you w-w-want to know how a b-b-bear feels on an iceberg, just try one of those other c-c-cakes."

He started on what was as near a run as it was to a dance, but it was plain he had received no worse harm than a wetting, and that crowd of boys was by no means satisfied.

"Look how the ice is packed in the cove," said Bill Thatcher, "and the pieces are big ones too."

"They wouldn't hold a fellow up."

"Yes, they would."

"See how Put's chunk carried him until he danced through it."

"Boys," said Jerry, "don't you know? There's seven times as much of a chunk of ice under the water as there is above it? Maybe it's eight times."

"Well," replied Mum Robbins, "if you should try to cross the cove on that pack of cakes, there'd be seven times as much of you in the water as there would be anywhere else."

"Now I guess not. If a fellow ran fast enough, and if he didn't stop two seconds on any one cake, he could get across."

"S'posing he should slip up?"

"He'd have to look out for that, and he'd have to jump pretty lively; but he could do it."

The excitement over Put Giddings and his iceberg had left that lot of lake-shore boys in a bad state of mind, and they were drifting toward the cove all the while they were talking. The ice there was indeed packed pretty well. Not as closely as in an ice-house, perhaps, but still it had a very substantial appearance, considering what it really was. It seemed a great pity, too, not to get a little more fun out of what had been the best skating ground on all that end of the lake. Still, the remaining mischief was really done by Pat Farrel, small as he was, for he broke in on the talk of the larger boys with:

"Crass that ice, is it? I kud do it in a minute if me fut was well. Yer afraid to thry it. That's all."

There was always some place or other lame or bruised about Pat Farrel, for the good reason that he could not see or think of any rash undertaking he was not at once ready to try.

Pat kept on talking, and the more he said about it, the more the taller boys began to feel that it was their duty to try it.

Mum Robbins was a little the best runner, but it was well known that Bill Thatcher could outjump him, and the other boys were quite contented to let those two make the experiment.

They went back three or four rods from the edge of the "pack" to get a good start, and then Pat Farrel shouted, "Now, b'ys, jump!"

They started, and they were almost surprised, as were all the lookers-on, to find how easy a piece of work it was at first. Their footfalls hardly stirred the cakes of ice from their places, and the small boys began to hurrah. All that, however, was near shore, where the cakes were wedged and jammed together in a sort of close raft that helped support itself, but there was something not quite so nice a little further out toward the middle of the cove. Everything grew looser and looser the further the two young adventurers went, and in a few seconds more they were actually forced to jump a wide crack. Then all the "race track" under them became full of cracks, and every cake they trod upon danced and wobbled, and they were not half so sure of their footing.

Mum Robbins was winning the race, for he was three-quarters of the way over, when he heard a loud cry behind him, and a great chorus of louder cries on the shore. He did not dare to pause an instant, for he was getting out of breath, and it would not do to use any cake for more than one footstep. It was an awful half-minute, but the moment he reached solid ice he turned and looked. "Where's Bill Thatcher?"

Not running or jumping, and yet there he was, every inch of him. Bill had alighted on the edge of a cake which was still tetering from the effects of being trodden upon by Mum Robbins, and it had at once slipped from under him. His foot went through into the water, and before he knew it he was lying flat on his back. The next thing he was really sure of was that he was also lying on three separate cakes of ice, and that they wobbled dreadfully with every movement he made.

Bill yelled in spite of himself when the water rose above the cracks, and crept through to his skin. Here was a second panic among the many-sized mob alongshore. One shouted one thing and one another, and two small boys began to cry, but Pat Farrel was equal to the occasion.

"What for did he do that? Now, b'ys, we've got to go for some boords. There's a hape of 'em in front of owld Van Meter's fence. 'Tisn't far to bring 'em. We'll have him out o' that."

The work of transporting the best half of Deacon Van Meter's fencing boards was done in a sort of frenzy, and Aunt Hannah Van Meter came rushing out of the house to see about it.

"Drowning? Mum Robbins, did you say Bill Thatcher was drowning? I'll run down to the village and tell his mother."

"Ye'd betther take howld and kerry a big boord wid us," replied Pat Farrel, sturdily, and Aunt Hannah exclaimed:

"Me? Carry a board? That's what I'll do, then."

"Don't let his mother know he's dhrowned till afther we've saved him," said Pat. "Then she won't care."

All that time, short as it was, poor Bill lay there on his unsteady raft, and felt more and more sorry he had been such a fool, while every ten seconds somebody on the shore shouted to him: "Lie still, Bill. They're a-coming."

The boards did come, and three of them, side by side, on the ice, made a bridge over which it would have been almost entirely safe to walk.

"Roll over, Bill," called the crowd on shore, and Bill did roll. Any part of it that was not rolled over was passed in a very cautious kind of creeping.

The shore was reached at last, but the first thing Bill heard, when he stood upon his feet, was from Pat Farrel.

"You've baten Mum Robbins entirely. He just run right acrass. You're the ownly wan that dared to shtop and lie down."

"He'll catch his death of cold," said Aunt Hannah. "Hurry home, William. Your mother'll give you something warm."

Bill took Aunt Hannah's advice. There were two boys who were glad to spend that afternoon by the fire getting the chill out of their bones. But who says there wasn't any fun the day Captain Myers's steamboat broke up the ice on Long Lake?

THE CANDY PULL.

Such lots of fun
The other day,
When Tom, and Jack,
And Maud, and May,

And children, till
The house was full,
Came trooping to
Our candy pull.

The tiny tots,
Who looked so sweet,
Did nothing much
Except to eat.

But we worked hard
The other day,
We older ones,
And thought it play.

For a frolic what can be pleasanter than a candy pull? Have you had one yet this winter? No? Well, children, do fly to mamma, and tell her that your Aunt Marjorie Precept has just given you the nicest bit of advice you've ever heard from her, and that is that you shall have the fun and uproar of a good old-fashioned time making molasses candy.

If any of you have such a splendid kitchen as the one in the picture, and can swing your kettle of New Orleans molasses over a beautiful open fire, you will enjoy it. But you may make very nice candy indeed upon the stove or range. Aunt Marjorie made some the other day, and how she would have liked to send you all a bit! She took two cups of molasses and one of brown sugar, a tea-spoonful of butter, and a table-spoonful of vinegar. After this mixture had boiled twenty minutes, she took it off, and poured it on a wide platter to cool. As soon as it was cool enough to be handled, she began to pull it, first buttering her hands that the candy might not stick to them. The more she pulled it, the whiter it grew.

How can you tell when the candy is done, do you ask? Why, just get a saucerful of cold water and drop some into it. If the candy sets itself into shape when dropped, it is done. The old nurse who is helping these boys and girls has made so much candy in her time that she is quite a veteran. She feels like smiling at Rose and Patty, who are afraid of their hands, and she praises Master Arthur, who is pulling his piece with such energy. People who play with their might usually work with their might too.

Sly little Hughie, who is trying with his toy cane to pull off poor nurse's cap, does not deserve a taste of candy. As for the little boy who is drinking out of the pitcher, and the kitties that wait so patiently to find out whether they are to have any milk after all the fuss, we hardly know what to think. Some cats love candy, and some boys think a drink is much more delicious if taken in a troublesome way.

If you should have a candy pull, be sure that you let everybody have a share of the work, and when the frolic is over, think whether there is not some little sick boy or girl, or some poor family, who have not many pleasures, and send away a boxful of candy to these friends the next day. I wouldn't be surprised if you should write to me in this fashion: "Dear Aunt Marjorie,--The best part of our candy pull was the postscript." See if you don't.

OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.

A little Breeze crept slyly out the other day from under the wing of his mother, the great North Wind. To his surprise he found a crowd of Breezes and Zephyrs who had wakened an hour or two earlier than he. They were rushing here and there, and frolicking with everything they saw. A very pompous old gentleman with a gold-headed cane was walking down the street, and a naughty Breeze whisked off his hat and wig. "Take care of yourself!" said the Wind to the Breeze; "such behavior is very wrong." A boy was carrying a kitten in a basket. He was taking it away to give it to his aunt Mary. Presto! a Breeze whirled away his cap, and another one peered into the basket, and out flew Miss Kittykins, and ran home as fast as four velvet paws could carry her. The Breezes blew against the shutters and broke the windows, and dashed around the corners, and had the merriest time; and they are having it still. The Postmistress says she is glad of it, for March is a jolly month, and all the while that he is tearing about with his troop of whistling Winds and his crew of rioting Gales he is preparing the way for the gentle maiden Spring to come in earnest.

And kite-time's here too, isn't it, boys?

* * * * *

CHELSEA, MASSACHUSETTS.

We live on the bank of the Mystic River, and have a view of Bunker
Hill Monument, which is just opposite to us, on the Charlestown
side of the river. There is also on Bunker Hill a beautiful bronze
statue of Colonel Prescott. Our home is very pretty, and in the
summer we row in our boat on the river. The tide rises and falls
twice a day five or six feet. When it is low, and the rocks and
beach are bare, we find a great many star-fish. They have five
points, just like a star. The eye is in the middle. We dry them on
a board, and keep them as curiosities.

We have a pair of goats. When the weather is good, they draw us in
a wagon, but now they draw a sled, which they do not like as well.
Our cow has a great deal of sense; the goats stay in the stable
with her, and when we take them out, she misses them, and moos
until they go back. Papa takes an apple to the goats, cow, and
horse nearly every morning. Sometimes when he has only one, he
gives it to the horse, for we all love that best; then you ought to
hear the old cow scold. When the weather was warm, she learned to
know that she always got an apple when she came to the library
window, so she came for one every day. When it got too cold for the
window to be raised, she stood rubbing her nose on the window
glass, and would not leave until she received her apple. One day
she came with five other cows; I think she wanted all of them to
get an apple. She would not go away until mamma threw some to a
distance, and then the procession went after them. Nelly, our
horse, eats out of our hands, and we are sure no other horse was
ever so gentle.

We have twelve canaries. Mamma raised them all, besides a great
many others she has given away. Some are light, some dark; some
have crests, or top-knots. One of them looks as if her feathers
were "banged" like a little girl's hair, they fall so prettily over
her eyes. She flies to us to eat sugar from our fingers. There are
five females, who live together in one cage. We also have on the
place four dogs; two of them belong to us, the others to the
farmer. One of ours is a setter named Ring. He is very fond of the
farmer's dogs, especially of the puppy. A few days ago we called
him to the house. He brought all the other dogs with him. The older
ones followed him up the stairs, but the little pup did not know
what to make of the steps; he stood in the lower hall whining. Ring
went back to him, licked him on the face, ran up the steps again,
the little pup still whining. Ring went back to him several times.
At last he got out of patience; he made mamma open the door and let
the puppy out. The way he tells mamma he wants the door opened is
by biting the toes of her slippers, and he will not stop until she
lets him out.

There is a very high hill back of our house, where we have a fine
coasting place. We have also built a snow fort, with port-holes
through which we can see our enemies coming, and pelt them with
snow-balls.

WILLIE H.

* * * * *

We are much obliged to the lady who sent us this pleasant letter from an absent niece, and we regret that the Wiggles arrived too late for publication in YOUNG PEOPLE:

MILAN, ITALY.

The HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE containing the new Wiggle arrived safely,
dear Aunt L., and created quite a sensation. I think it is meant
for a monkey's head, and would have tried to make it so, but my
animals do not, as a general thing, succeed very well. I showed the
paper to Ida Borzino, and she drew a Wiggle, which I inclose; and
which she signed "Roland." I don't suppose it makes much difference
what it is signed, but I signed mine with my own initials. I hope
we will not be too late.

The other day I came across an Italian coin, a mezzo-soldo, worth
two centimes and a half, and bearing the date of 1777. As soon as I
have an opportunity I mean to send it to Lulu for her collection,
which, I am very glad to hear, is progressing.

Ellie says that in the HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE she noticed that one
of the correspondents writes that his cat will eat pea-nuts, and
she would like you to be told that our cat will not only eat them,
but is fonder of them than of anything else; but as they are rather
a delicacy in this part of the globe, he does not often get an
opportunity of indulging his fancy.

The Borzinos' first party comes off to-morrow, and we are looking
forward to it very much. This year they have very few, only about
six. However, I suppose that is enough dissipation for one year.
Their parties are so nice, because they are so informal, and we all
know each other so well that we always enjoy ourselves.

Our drawing-class has commenced its winter season. We have called
our studio the "Temple of Art," and all the members have taken the
names of celebrated Italian painters, and we have painted our cards
with our names on to put on the studio door, and we receive on
Thursday, other days being devoted to work, and not to amusement.

JULIET L. T.

* * * * *

FORGE, NEW YORK.

I have a kind friend who sends me YOUNG PEOPLE, and I take much
pleasure in reading it, and love to read the letters as well as any
part of the paper. I live among the Catskills, and have few
pastimes during the winter except coasting, and thus far this
winter we have not had much snow.

This is a very pleasant village, and during the summer months is
crowded with boarders. If Mr. Editor or any of the young people
should come here, I would be glad to show them a very nice cat. We
call him Chub, and he will roll over when I tell him to, and knock
at the door to come in.

I have a pet canary that is very tame. Mamma thinks my letter is
not worth your notice, but I hope you will have some room for it. I
think "Work for Little Fingers" will be a help for something new
for me to make for our country fair, which is held near us every
year. I have had the first premium on everything I have taken there
since I was five years old, and I am now ten.

EL. LOUISE. D.

* * * * *

PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

I am a little boy eight years old. I have one little sister named
Grace. We live in Philadelphia, and we often wish it was the
country which some of the little girls and boys write about, so
that we could have pets as they do.

We take HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, and love the stories and letters. My
mamma don't know I am writing this letter. I want to surprise her
by showing it to her in the Post-office Box of the book. Don't you
think it would be splendid for me to have a little horse? Then I
could ride to our beautiful Park every day. My fingers are so tired
I must say good-by.

HORACE P. F.

* * * * *

NEW YORK CITY.

I am going to tell you about a little bird which my sister found
one day she was coming from a visit. It was a very snowy day, and
the snow was very deep. My sister Elvira found it in front of a
large gray house. The bird was nearly covered with snow, and Elvira
could just see its little wing, which was a little above the snow.
Elvira took it up in her arms very fondly, and put it under her
warm cloak. When she brought it home to me, I was very happy to see
the little bird safe in a home. We gave it crumbs of bread to eat.
But oh! it would not eat nor drink, and it did not look happy.
Mamma told Elvira to let the bird fly out, and it would be much
happier. As soon as it was out in the free, fresh air, it clapped
its wings together with joy, and flew to a large maple-tree.

I took two days to make this letter. I do not know English very
beautifully, but I can speak Spanish, and read nicely. I will soon
learn English.

ALFREDO U.

* * * * *

EAST BETHLEHEM, WASHINGTON COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA.

I live in the country, and have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for two
or three months, and I like it ever so much, and always read the
letters in it every week. I walk a mile and a quarter to school
every morning, and back home again in the evening. We have a large
shepherd dog named Romeo. He is real playful, and he always goes
out in the fields with me to take walks; and one time when I was
out playing I found three dandelions out in bloom, on the 8th of
January, 1882, and just as bright and fresh-looking as if it were
spring. I have two dolls, named Bertha and Gertrude. I think Jimmy
Brown's stories are real funny, and I hope he will write some more
soon.

This is the first time I have written to HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, so
please publish it, and oblige

CORA C. W.

* * * * *

GOLD HILL, COLORADO.

I am a little girl twelve years old. I live in the Rocky Mountains,
and weigh 115 pounds. I have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE from the
first number, and like it very much. I began eight years ago to
save the pennies and dimes that were given me by the miners, and
bought a heifer with them, and now I have a cow, a two-year-old,
and a yearling. I call my cow Lillie, my two-year-old Minnie, and
my yearling Duke. I also have a pet cat and hen. I call the cat
Tiger, and the hen Daisy. If this letter is printed, I will write
again, and tell you about a four-footed thief who stole the fried
cakes in our cellar.

MIRA S.

* * * * *

THE STORY OF A RABBIT.

I am going to relate a true story of a boy and his rabbit. It was
on Staten Island, in the year 1879.

I once had a middle-sized rabbit, and one day I saw a boy that I
knew passing by my house. I asked him to come and see what a nice
rabbit I had. He liked it so much that he offered me twenty-six
cents; so I sold the rabbit to him, and some bran too. The next
time that I saw him I asked him how his rabbit was, and he told me
that the very day he bought the rabbit a dog saw it, and bit its
throat so that it died instantly.

JOSEPH FRANCIS W.

What a shame!

* * * * *

We think our wee readers will like this story of two little girls who gave up something they loved, to please their mamma. Of course they had a reward:

BIRDIE AND JENNIE.

Birdie and Jennie are two sweet little children.

Birdie has long light curls and soft hazel eyes, pale oval face,
and slender form. She is seven years old. Jennie, the little
sister, is chubby in face and form, has dark curls, and dark bright
eyes. Her cheeks are almost always red. She is five years old.

These two little sisters are very sweet singers, and once, when
they sang to entertain company, they were presented with a pair of
white mice.

These pets delighted the children, and for a time they enjoyed them
to their hearts' content; but mamma did not like white mice, and
longed to have them out of the house. Accordingly she talked to the
children, and urged them to let the treasures be sold.

This was a hard request, and the little ones were reluctant to
comply.

Mamma understood this, and to help them make the sacrifice she
promised to try to procure them something else in their place.

Birdie and Jennie loved their mice, but they loved mamma better,
and to please her they consented to let the mice go, and tried to
do it cheerfully.

It was on a Friday that the mice were taken away, and when Saturday
night came round, what should pop into the house but a cunning
little gray squirrel? This visitor made himself quite at home.

The delighted children knew not how to express their joy, and
firmly believed that God sent the squirrel to them so soon, because
they had parted pleasantly with their mice.

It was found that the squirrel belonged to a gentleman who lived
near by, and who said he was glad to be rid of the charge, and the
children were equally glad to have it. It is still living--a dear
little interesting pet.

As Birdie and Jennie live in the city, the squirrel's coming to
them so unexpectedly was even more strange than if their home had
been in the country.

ANNA D. W.

* * * * *

MASON, TEXAS.

"Well, well, what a great thing for the children of America, and of
other countries too, is HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE!" Such was the
exclamation uppermost in my mind after spending two or three days
in reading back numbers of this gem of a paper. Yes, two or three
days, and up some nights till twelve o'clock, reading YOUNG PEOPLE,
and here I will soon be a quarter of a century old! I dropped
Carlyle, Dickens, Macaulay, and Goethe, to read this juvenile
paper, and read it not only with pleasure but _profit_. I enjoy
Jimmy Brown's letters, which are the most mirth-provoking articles
I have ever read. And here I want to give my thanks to "Jimmy" for
the many hearty laughs he has afforded me. The "Autocrat of the
Breakfast-Table" says that he "purrs very loud over a good honest
letter that says pretty things" to him; so Jimmy may "purr very
loud" now. Then, too, I like the war stories of Dr. Lossing, and
the scientific articles of Mrs. Herrick, whom I remember in
_Southern Review_ times, and the good advice of Aunt Marjorie, who
gives it so wisely and kindly. And the pictures--my! Every number
is just full of good things, like a shop window. How blest are the
boys and girls of to-day! Are we grateful, boys? are you thankful,
girls? I can hear you all say, "Yes, yes."

I am going to get up a collection of rare curiosities from this
Western country, and when they are ready, I will mention them among
the Exchanges. I have a little friend here, Josie B., who takes
YOUNG PEOPLE, and I will invite her to help me. Mason is away out
in Western Texas, and is a little frontier town. It has a
delightful climate, and the weather Christmas week was as beautiful
as any that ever graced summer. On this January day I have had the
door open and window up, while the day without has been full of
spring. Just to show you what a charming country this is for health
and climate, I will quote from the Meteorological Report of the
United States Signal Officer of this place for the past year: "The
highest temperature during the year was on June 22, July 1, and
August 10--100° each day; the lowest temperature was on January 9,
1881--9°; yearly range of temperature, 91°. The highest wind
occurred on September 6, blowing thirty-four miles per hour from
the southeast. The total rain-fall of the year was 22.08 inches;
the greatest monthly rain-fall was during May--5.29 inches; the
least monthly rain-fall was during June--none. The prevailing wind
was from the south. There were 195 clear days, 77 fair, and 90
cloudy. There were only twenty days when the temperature was below
freezing, and no days when it remained below all day. There were
ninety days when the temperature was above 90°. Only one bad storm
occurred during the year, on September 30, when rain fell in
torrents for thirty minutes, flooding the town." I doubt whether
any other portion of the whole country can make a better showing in
the weather record than that.

DAN M.

The beginning of this sprightly letter from our Texas correspondent was so very complimentary that we half hesitated about publishing it. Still, it is only fair to the authors whose graceful pens are making YOUNG PEOPLE so attractive, to let them know what a generous measure of appreciation they are winning from some "grown-ups" as well as from a host of little folks. So, hoping to do still better in future, we let the world see how much one of our friends thinks of our paper, including the Post-office Box, to which he has contributed so agreeably.

* * * * *

C. Y. P. R. U.

ROBERT, A. C. F., AND OTHERS.--The common white pigeon is the offspring of the common pigeon, which is of various colors and markings. By selecting only the pure white birds for breeding, and rejecting those of other colors, a strain of blood is established in course of time, so that the birds will breed true to color.

All taxidermists make use of white pigeons, and the demand is often greater than the supply. They are used, when set up in various positions, as emblems of purity and hope at church fairs, Sunday-school festivals, and by florists. For a large handler of white pigeons, address Taxidermist, No. 199 William Street, New York city. White pigeons are obtainable of all dealers in fancy poultry throughout the country.

Dealers complain about careless packing, and state that much higher prices might be obtained if the game, fish, animals, and birds were taken better care of after being caught, and not over-crowded in the boxes, so that when exposed for sale they would look clean, fresh, and smooth, as if just caught. Some of the largest dealers in dead game are at Washington Market, New York city. A very excellent book on breeding and taking care of pet stock is published by Cassell, Petter, & Galpin, No. 596 Broadway, New York city. Much interesting and valuable information can be found in Gibson's _Camp Life in the Woods; and the Tricks of Trapping and Trap Making_. By W. HAMILTON GIBSON, Author of _Pastoral Days_. Illustrated by the Author. 12mo, cloth, $1. Published by Harper & Brothers. This is a perfect manual for youthful hunters, and contains hints on life out-doors in all its aspects. Shelter, food, trapping, boat-building, bait, and, in fact, everything a boy needs to know about the woods and their inhabitants, are considered in this book.

For information about purchasing and disposing of live rabbits, squirrels, and all cage birds, etc., etc., address Aquarium Stock, 76 Fulton Street, New York city.

* * * * *

The topaz occupies some distinction among gems. The finest varieties are found in the Brazils, Ceylon, and the Ural Mountains, either crystallized or in small rolled masses in the alluvium of granitic rocks, about the size of a large nut. In color they are commonly white, bluish or yellowish white, much water-worn, and perfect crystals are rare. The common kinds are found in many parts of the world. A crystal nineteen ounces in weight was discovered in the Cairngorm Mountains, in Aberdeenshire, and some have been obtained in Cornwall and Ireland. The topaz is rendered very electric by heat and friction; and by this property it may be readily distinguished from a diamond or ruby, for which otherwise, when cut and set, it might easily be mistaken.

The topaz of the ancients had a green color, and is supposed to have been our chrysolite. It was found in the island of Topazios, in the Red Sea. "This place," says Diodorus Siculus, "was ten miles long, and called the Island of Serpents, from the number of reptiles formerly infesting it. The topazion here found was a transparent gem, agreeable in aspect, resembling glass. No one was allowed to land there under pain of death, and no boat was allowed to be kept on the island. Provisions for the few soldiers on guard there were brought at intervals from the continent. The gem was not discernible by day, its lustre being then overpowered by the sun's rays, but at night it was conspicuous by its brightness. The guards who divided the island among their patrols then ran up, and covered the luminous spot with a vase of equal size. Next day they would go their rounds, cut out the patch of rock thus indicated, and deliver it to the proper person to be polished."

* * * * *

We have five articles in this number to recommend to the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. Every little pair of hands that opens YOUNG PEOPLE, the Postmistress hopes and fancies, has two corresponding little feet nicely incased in woven stockings without the suspicion of a hole in them. How did the world ever come to have woven stockings? Look at the article on our fourth page and see. Three centuries ago William Lee's observation of the labor performed by four knitting-needles in the hands of his patient, hard-working wife resulted in the invention of the stocking-loom. There is no use in telling the boys to read the rest of Mr. Payn's story. We know they have been waiting breathlessly for a week to find out what became of Philip Ashton. They are going to take a great interest, too, in the boy hero of the great floods, "Dad" Little. After these good things have been read and digested, we want them to pay particular attention to "Something about Sonatas," by Mrs. John Lillie, and see how much it will help them in the study and appreciation of music.

* * * * *

YOUNG PEOPLE'S COT.

Contributions received for Young People's Cot, in Holy Innocent's Ward, St. Mary's Free Hospital for Children, 407 West Thirty-fourth Street:

Lizzie Champion, Warrenville, 25c.; Amelia Frink, Marshall, Mich., 25c.; Dudley A. Williams, Hackensack, N. J., 50c.; John Wilson, Still Pond, Md., 25c.; Lizzie Treadway, Cleveland, Ohio, 50c.; H. L. Ireland, Coventryville, N. Y., 50c.; Louie Bryant, Schuyler, Neb., 25c.; Eric Holt, New York, $1; Lillie Bahten, Piute Mountain, Cal., $1; Fannie K. Sowall, San Antonio, Texas, 50c.; A. N. P., 25c.; Raymond Buck, 152d St., N. Y., $1; Madge Vail, Sag Harbor, L. I., 50c.; Marshall and Harold Wawick, Plainwell, Mich., 30c.; Louis A., Howard B., and Baby Boy, Madison, N. J., 30c.; Bertie and Rex Dalmolen, Verona, Italy, $2: Florence and Frankie Ward, New York, $1; Willie S., Elizabeth, N. J., $1; total, $11.35. Previously acknowledged, $246.69; grand-total, $258.04.

E. AUGUSTA FANSHAWE, Treasurer, 43 New St.
_February 15_.

Can our little folks do no better than this for Young People's Cot? The sum needed to endow the cot is $3000. There are many little suffering children who need to be cared for in St. Mary's Free Hospital. The subscription, you see, is growing very, very slowly. We wonder whether some of you will not try to send an Easter offering to be reported in this list? Could not you have a little box in the sitting-room or nursery, and drop your pennies in it from time to time? You see, dears, we must raise almost fifteen times what we now have before we shall really have Young People's Cot, in St. Mary's Hospital.

* * * * *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

TWO DROP-LETTER PUZZLES.

1. --t-- --n--l-- -- --n--t-- --t-- --o--s-- --b-- --y-- -- --d.

2. -- --n-- --a-- --s--a--e-- -- --h-- --o-- --.

NELL.

* * * * *

No. 2.

GEOGRAPHICAL PUZZLE.

One morning I was awakened by the (county of Illinois) telling me that my cousin (a river of Virginia) was waiting for me at the gate. I rose, dressed, went out, and met my cousin with a (city of Arkansas) in his hand, which he was about to hurl at what he thought was a (lake in North America). Just as he threw it I saw Mr. (a city in Indiana) with a (river in Dakota) gun. The (lake in North America) turned out to be a (river in Dakota) cow. After this adventure we went to our homes, which are on (a celebrated philosopher) street, in (a small town of Illinois).

L. WHITLOCK.

* * * * *

No. 3.

A CONCEALED WORD SQUARE.

We were striving to believe Robert when he said the Muse refused to hold forth her sceptre every time.

WILLIAM A. LEWIS.

* * * * *

No. 4.

A RIDDLE.

In height and depth, in heaven and hell,
In ocean, and in earth I dwell;
The first of each, and the last of one,
And yet I can be found in none.
Though evil with me must begin,
I am in error, and not in sin.
The first in enterprise to lead,
I never fail in strength and speed.
Yet always found in bed and weak,
I can not stand alone. I speak
The end at once of peace and strife,
Am present both in death and life.
My common help to foe and friend
In silence and in speech I lend,
And still an equal place I have
In both the cradle and the grave.
In short, where time is I must be,
And space will terminate with me.

INDIE.

* * * * *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 120.

No. 1.

T
C O B
P A L E D
C A T E R E R
T O L E R A T E D
B E R A T E S
D E T E R
R E S
D

No. 2.

Powder.

No. 3.

B uyin G
R obbe R
I ndig O
D omin O
E stee M

No. 4.

P A R I S
A S I D E
R I F L E
I D L E R
S E E R S

No. 5.

F O R B E A R
O R I E N T
R I G I D
B E I N
E N D
A T
R

* * * * *

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from George and Bud, W. B. Gordon, Ella Chirney, Kittie Lewis, Willie Volckhausen, Cliff Woodruff, William Lewis, Milton D. Close, Edwin S. Hippey, Laura G., Harry W. Davis, Blanche P. Heywood, L. E. Williams, Agnes G. Fletcher, John C. Myers, "_Alma_," A. H. Nevins, _Hattie Lehman_, Alice O. Quackenbos, _Charles B. Semple_, Mamie Cunningham, Annie I. Brown, G. W., Malcolm Gates, Alfred G. Dale, Ernest R. Smith, Fred Niver, C. Alexina Delafolie, Giles Dow, Carrie W. Rappold, "Askelon," _Laura Gibbs_, Henry Berlan, Jun., and "Lady Clare."

* * * * *

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

BOUQUETAIRE--A NEW GAME.

BY G. B. BARTLETT.

This new and interesting game requires a little preparation, which forms part of the fun. It is either made up of contributions from all the players, each of whom brings three presents, or all the gifts are furnished by the lady of the house. These gifts should consist of a great variety of useful, ornamental, graceful, and funny articles, such as toys, fans, dolls of small size, boxes of candy of odd shapes, books, small articles of jewelry, china, and bric-a-brac.

The smaller articles should be inclosed in boxes, or many wraps of paper, so that all may be nearly alike in size. They are all done up separately, each in a floral envelope, and are tastefully arranged in an open flat box or basket, which, when full, presents the appearance of a pyramid of flowers.

Great taste may be displayed in making these petals, as the envelopes are called, for which these simple directions may be followed, with such variations as practice may suggest: Take a dozen sheets of tissue-paper, comprising as many colors as possible, fold them together in the middle, fold in each corner in the shape of a pyramid (see Fig. 1); then double it twice (see Figs. 2 and 3); cut a piece out of the top of this in the shape of the letter V (see Fig. 4), and crimp up each sheet in the hand as fine as possible. Mix up these colors according to taste, as the petals may be of several shades or all of one color. Place the presents inside of these papers, and twist them twice around, and spread the petals in various ways.