Chapter II: Part 2

While they were making preparations for the journey--and they had considerable to do in the way of consulting some friends as to the best course to fly, laying by a store of food in order not to be delayed in the start, and attending to their toilets--they said nothing to their parents relative to their desire to live in the city. This pleased their mother greatly, for she hoped they had given up such a foolish idea.

At last everything was in readiness, and making some excuse to their parents, such as that they were going out for berries or on a butterfly-hunt, they started toward the city. It was a much longer journey than they had supposed, for from their home it seemed as if the city was close at hand; but neither of them thought of turning back, even though they were terribly tired.

The younger was in favor of alighting on Broadway, where they could be seen by every one, but the elder was much wiser.

"We will fly to the top of the City Hall, and we shall not have been there many moments before half the Sparrows in town will know of our arrival, and after that I do not fancy we shall have much trouble in making the acquaintance of the most distinguished birds in town."

Therefore they did not stop in their flight until the building in question was reached, although they saw many strange and curious things that they were anxious to investigate.

"Now get right on the edge of the roof, and see how quickly people will find out we are here," said the elder, as he gave a little shake of his tail to make sure each feather was in sight.

In one particular he was correct: they were noticed very quickly, although hardly in the way he had supposed. In less than five minutes from the time they first took possession of their lofty perch a party of young city Sparrows came up to arrange their feathers in the latest fashion after having taken their noonday bath.

"Will you look at those birds?" cried one, with a laugh and a twitter, as he shook his wings in the direction of the new-comers. "They must have worn those same feathers since last spring, they are so out of style."

Then another spoke of the wretched taste displayed in the cut of the strangers' tails, while the third actually crowded against the country Sparrows until he nearly pushed them from the roof.

The visitors were very angry, but they did not dare to say anything; for as many as a dozen other city fellows had joined the first party, all of whom made all possible sport of these two who had thought themselves so beautiful, until an old gray-headed Sparrow, who was carrying a large bug to his wife, stopped to see what the matter was.

He very soon obliged the pert young city fellows to stop their nonsense, and then asked the strangers where they came from, and how they chanced to be there. It was some time before the two vain birds would tell their story; but they did so at last, and when they had finished, the old bird said:

"In the first place, you deserve very much harsher treatment than you have received, because of having come here against your parents' wishes. Go home at once, and remember that it is much safer to trust to what your father says than to try to find out for yourselves. As to your beauty, of that you should allow others to judge. There is an old maxim which comes very near the truth, and that is, 'Handsome is who handsome does,' the true meaning of which I think you can now readily understand."

The birds were ashamed of themselves almost before the old gentleman had finished speaking, and just as soon as it was possible for them to leave him they started for home, where they have ever since remained, studying the maxim, and trying to profit by it.

WAITING.

BY MARY N. PRESCOTT.

Dainty little Daisy
Sits waiting for the sun--
Says she's almost crazy
To take a little run
On the hill to show her frill,
Or by the road to stray;
But she's kept in-doors till
Spring says she may.

Dandy little Buttercup,
Waiting for June weather,
In his earthy bed tucked up,
Wakes, and wonders whether
He will sprout and soon shine out
In his gold array,
Or in doubt be left to pout
Till Spring says he may.

Pussy-Willow, soon astir,
Makes an early start,
Thickens all her silver fur
Just to look smart;
Longs to break the spell, and take
Her own sweet way
Before the rest are wide awake;
And Spring says she may.

TROUT-FISHING.

BY W. M. LAFFAN.

There are two ways of taking trout--one at the top of the water, and the other beneath it. The latter is commonly known as bait-fishing, while the former is called fly-fishing.

Fly-fishing is undoubtedly the greater sport, and requires more delicacy and skill of handling than the other; but it is also much more expensive by reason of the cost of the rod, the line, the flies, and the various small matters that a fly-fisher always wants. Then, again, it happens that there are days when a trout will not rise at a fly, but when if you whisk a ripe red angle-worm or a fat grasshopper under his nose he will promptly take in either; and after such remonstrance as it may be in him to offer, he will get into your basket, or find himself strung on your willow twig. There are also streams wherein the water is at times thick and murky, and where the fish lurk about the bottom of the deep holes and eddies, and can not see the fly when it is thrown. In such places the bait has to be brought very close to their notice, and it must also be fresh, or frequently they will have none of it.

A fly rod for trout should be about fourteen feet long, seven ounces or thereabouts in weight, and should be fitted with a good reel that will let the light line, which is of silk or of linen fibre, run out freely, and then wind it again as quickly. Such a rod may cost a good deal of money--seventy-five dollars, for instance, if you prefer a split bamboo rod of a certain maker's work. There are fly rods which you can bend until you take the tip and butt into one hand, but which will fly out straight again on being released. A rod of this sort is a very pretty affair, but quite as many trout are likely to be taken with a much cheaper one.

In the days, however, when I fished more than, I am sorry to say, I do now, I had a rod which was not worth much more than fifty cents, the line and lead, sink and hook, included; and yet with that rod I have outdone many a fisherman who possessed the most expensive kind of an outfit. I thought that had I had their costly outfits, their books of flies for all seasons, weathers, and hours, their taper rods, their silk lines and whirring reels, their prodigal lengths of gut, their trim baskets, and their luxury of small fixings, I should have cleaned out our river at will. But I learned later that in trout-fishing a vast deal more depends upon the fisherman than upon any apparatus he may be supplied with.

To begin with, any flexible light rod will do. You should have a reel, so that you may be able to fish at varying distances from where you stand, and also in order that if you do strike a large fish, he may not get away from you by simply starting off suddenly and snapping off your line or tearing out the hook. You should have about thirty yards of line. Then you want, if you mean to fish with the fly, a few gut casting-lines and some flies; or if you intend bait-fishing, some hooks, and a sinker heavy enough to keep your bait from being swept along too fast by the current.

If you can, provide yourself with a fish basket. It will keep your fish from being dried up by the sun, and visited by the flies, which latter like fresh trout quite as much as you do yourself. It will also leave you your hands free to attend to your fishing with; and if the fish bite at all, you will need both to manage them. When you are fishing, keep this same basket lid fastened. I remember on one occasion being very much annoyed to see my fine trout, that I had caught all swept away by the rushing current, when I had, with no intention thereof, sat down in the water by reason of a slippery rock, or, out of pure anxiety, walked into some deep hole.

If you intend to use bait for your fishing, tie your sinker at the end of your line in such a way that you can attach the loop in the gut of your hook below it. Your hook ought to be at least a foot below your sinker, and it ought not to vary greatly in size from the hooks shown in the illustration on this page. You know how to get worms, just as well as I do; only choose those that are neither small nor great, and that are about twice the length of your hook. Such a worm looks best and most inviting to a trout when he is properly disposed on the hook. This you should do in the simplest way possible, putting the hook crosswise two or three times through the worm, tucking him together on it, and being chiefly careful that the point and barb are covered. If you can not get worms, there is a variety of old stumps of trees that will yield you a fat white grub that the trout esteem highly. These grubs are borers, and an axe easily lays bare their long sawdust galleries in the decaying timber. Failing worms and grubs, you can use grasshoppers or minnows. For handsome as the trout is, he is a voracious fellow, and will eat all manner of small fish, snails, frogs, and the like, being nothing short of a cannibal, and devouring things until he can hold nothing more.

Fish with your line as nearly of the length of your rod as you can, and put your bait as far from your standpoint as is possible without losing your ready observation and command of it. Never be too prodigal of your line because you have plenty of it on your reel, but use only so much of it as may be needed to put your bait where the fish lies, and keep yourself and your rod out of his sight. The trout is bold in one way, and timid in another. He is as brave as a lion about what he eats, and the quantity of it, but he is as swift-flying as a shadow if he catches a glimpse of you. Keep out of his view, and drop your line noiselessly into the stream above the eddy in the current. It will drift quietly down, and if the fish are there, you will know it very soon. When you feel him bite, strike by sharply raising the tip of your rod. Do it firmly and quickly, but with such control that if you miss him you will not send your bait flying back over your head, among the trees, perhaps, or into any place but where it ought to be. If you have him, and he be a fish of any strength and weight, your sport begins. Let him run with it, but keep your rod well up so that you can maintain a steady strain on him. If you slacken your line, the chances are he will spit out the hook, or shake it out of the hole it has made for itself in his jaw, and then you are done with him. Keep a steady hand on him; bring him up sharp and quick if he jumps out, for that is a dangerous trick, and guide him at a favorable turn, and when you have a good head of speed on him, to his landing-place.

For fly-fishing, which is the finest after all, you want a gut casting-line, and some more in reserve in your pocket-book or about your hat, and an assortment of flies suited to the season. Flies are imitations of the various insects that trout feed upon, and are of great variety. You may learn to make them yourself with a few simple materials, such as small feathers and bits of silk or woollen goods.

To your casting-line attach your flies as you see them in the engraving, and then you are ready. You have at least eight feet of gut between your end fly and your line. Fish with as much length of line as you can easily and surely throw. Use your rod like a long delicate whip, and let the three flies that form its taper lash settle down on the water as lightly as thistle-down. This can not have too much care; it is the great thing in the art of fly-fishing, and should be practiced in an open space. When you can drop your flies, every time, on a handkerchief fifty feet away, you can consider yourself an expert. For the rest of it, when you see your fish rise with a swift bright flash of red and white, and a sparkle of breaking water, strike just as before advised, and hold him after in the spirit of firmness and coolness until you land him and have him safe in your basket.

Let your tackle be of the lightest and the strongest; don't neglect it, for a real fisherman is as careful of his things as if they were so many live pets; and beyond everything else, when you go a-fishing, keep a good temper and an open eye.

RATS AND MICE.

BY JIMMY BROWN.

It's queer that girls are so dreadfully afraid of rats and mice. Men are never afraid of them, and I shouldn't mind if there were morenamillion mice in my bedroom every night.

Mr. Travers told Sue and me a terrible story one day about a woman that was walking through a lonely field, when she suddenly saw a field-mouse right in front of her. She was a brave woman; so after she had said, "Oh my! save me, somebody!" she determined to save herself if she could, for there was nobody within miles of her. There was a tree not very far off, and she had just time to climb up the tree and seat herself in the branches, when the mouse reached its foot. There that animal staid for six days and nights, squeaking in a way that made the woman's blood run cold, and waiting for her to come down. On the seventh day, when she was nearly exhausted, a man with a gun came along, and shot the mouse, and saved her life. I don't believe this story, and I told. Mr. Travers so; for a woman couldn't climb a tree, and even if she could, what would hinder the mouse from climbing after her?

Sue has a new young man, who comes every Tuesday and Thursday night. One day he said, "Jimmy, if you'll get me a lock of your sister's hair, I'll give you a nice dog." I told him he was awfully kind, but I didn't think it would be honest for me to take Sue's best hair, but that I'd try to get him some of her every-day hair. And he said, "What on earth do you mean, Jimmy?" And I said that Sue had got some new back hair a little while ago, for I was with her when she bought it, and I knew she wouldn't like me to take any of that. So he said it was no matter, and he'd give me the dog anyway.

I told Sue afterward all about it, just to show her how honest I was, and instead of telling me I was a good boy, she said, "Oh you little torment g'way and never let me see you again," and threw herself down on the sofa and howled dreadfully, and mother came and said, "Jimmy, if you want to kill your dear sister, you can just keep on doing as you do." Such is the gratitude of grown-up folks.

Mr. Withers--that's the new young man--brought the dog, as he said he would. He's a beautiful Scotch terrier, and he said he would kill rats like anything, and was two years old, and had had the distemper; that is, Mr. Withers said the dog would kill rats, and of course Mr. Withers himself never had the distemper.

Of course I wanted to see the dog kill rats, so I took him to a rat-hole in the kitchen, but he barked at it so loud that no rat would think of coming out. If you want to catch rats, you mustn't begin by barking and scratching at rat-holes, but you must sit down and kind of wink with one eye and lay for them, just as cats do. I told Mr. Withers that the dog couldn't catch any rats, and he said he would bring me some in a box, and I could let them out, and the dog would kill every single one of them.

The next evening Sue sent me down to the milliner's to bring her new bonnet home, and don't you be long about it either you idle worthless boy. Well, I went to the milliner's shop, but the bonnet wasn't done yet; and as I passed Mr. Withers's office, he said, "Come here, Jimmy; I've got those rats for you." He gave me a wooden box like a tea-chest, and told me there were a dozen rats in it, and I'd better have the dog kill them at once, or else they'd gnaw out before morning.

When I got home, Sue met me at the door, and said, "Give me that bandbox this instant you've been mornanour about it." I tried to tell her that it wasn't her box; but she wouldn't listen, and just snatched it and went into the parlor, where there were three other young ladies who had come to see her, and slammed the door; but the dog slipped in with her.

In about a minute I heard the most awful yells that anybody ever heard. It sounded as if all the furniture in the parlor was being gnashed into kindling wood, and the dog kept barking like mad. The next minute a girl came flying out of the front window, and another girl jumped right on her before she had time to get out of the way, and they never stopped crying, "Help murder let me out oh my!"

I knew, of course, that Sue had opened the box and let the rats out, and though I wanted ever so much to know if the dog had killed them all, I thought she would like it better if I went back to the milliner's and waited a few hours for the bonnet.

I brought it home about nine o'clock: but Sue had gone to bed, and the servant had just swept up the parlor, and piled the pieces of furniture on the piazza. Father won't be home till next week, and perhaps by that time Sue will get over it. I wish I did know if the dog killed all those rats, and how long it took him.

MOTHER'S BABY.

Mother has gone to breakfast,
And left the baby alone,
But he's seated among the pillows
Like a dear little king on a throne.

If mother don't come to the baby,
Why, then he has only to cry,
And you may be sure she will hurry,
Catch him, and sing lullaby.

OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.

Who wants to help clean house? Elsie, with her sweeping-cap on and her new broom in her hand, says, "I." Susie, with her dancing eyes and her dimpled cheeks, flies for the duster, and declares that she means to be mamma's chief assistant. Jack and Tom, who are very strong, and like to show what splendid muscles they have, are on the spot, ready to lift and carry and do all they can to aid in the spring campaign.

House-cleaning is not the quietest work in the world, but it is work that pays in the end; and good-natured people often find plenty of fun in it.

Lost things often come to light in the May days, when everything is brushed and beaten, pounded and shaken, washed and rubbed, polished and painted, until the world puts on a new face. There was once a little girl who said to a gentleman, in reply to his remark that it was a very bright morning, "Yes, sir; mother washed the windows yesterday."

To return to the lost things, is it not pleasant to find them when they have been out of sight for ever so long? For instance, the Postmistress has a favorite paper-knife which came all the way from Japan. Some time ago it mysteriously disappeared, and though hunted for in every imaginable place, it could not be found. The other day, in house-cleaning, it turned up suddenly. It had cozily tucked itself in between the back of a sofa and the seat, and no doubt had laughed many a time--that is, if a paper-knife can laugh--when it had heard its owner wondering where it could possibly be. It would be a good plan for us all, Postmistress and children, to adopt this old-fashioned rule: "A place for everything, and everything in its place."

* * * * *

YONKERS, NEW YORK.

I receive my paper every Tuesday afternoon. I think it is the
nicest paper that was ever published for little folks, and big
folks too. I have taken it ever since 1879, and now I have one
hundred and twenty-seven numbers.

I must tell you about a little black-and-tan dog we had. His name
was Dot, and he seemed to know everything that was said to him.
When I went to school, he would follow me, and if I went to my
recitation, he would come and stand at the head of the class. When
he was thirsty, he would go to the water-cooler, and bark for a
drink. After a while a cruel dog bit him in the neck, and soon
after he died. I have a goat that I trained myself.

BELLE H.

What a cunning little dog, to stand at the head of the class! He did not wish, like a dunce, to go to the foot, did he? And what a pity he died!

* * * * *

CAYUGA, CANADA.

I am a little girl who was eight years old last August. My auntie
in Lockport sends YOUNG PEOPLE to me. I thought a great deal of
"Toby Tyler," and now that "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" has come, I enjoy
it immensely. I have a little kittie called Pugo. She is gray and
white, and is afraid of our parrot. The spring has come, and I am
so glad, for we will soon be able to go to the woods and gather
wild flowers.

MAGGIE L. A.

* * * * *

FLOYD, LOUISIANA.

I have been wanting to write to you for some time, and tell you
about my pets, but was afraid my letter would not be published.

I have the sweetest little squirrel you ever saw. His name is Zeke,
but we do not call him anything but Funny. Papa gave me a nice
large cage for him. Mamma takes him out sometimes, and he plays
with her just like a kitten. I am afraid of him, although I like to
watch him play. I have a bird that sings from morning until night.
I have a cat and two dogs. I have also three horses. I can ride one
of them. My grandpa gave me such a nice little saddle and bridle!
Don't you think I have a good many pets? I am eleven years old.

IRENE N.

* * * * *

NEW YORK CITY.

I wrote to HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE once last summer, but that was
while I was in Europe, so I thought I would write from my own home.

My grandpa and grandma had their golden wedding a short time ago,
and I expected to have a great deal of fun, but I was sick, so I
could not go to it, after all.

We are going to have a fair at our school soon, and so we are all
hard at work making fancy-work for it.

JESSIE C. S.

* * * * *

EAST NORWICH, NEW YORK.

I am not a girl; I am a boy, nine years old. My name is Uel. It is
a name which you can find in the Bible--Ezra, x. 34. If you want to
know how to pronounce it rightly, you may know by its rhyme with
jewel, fuel, and cruel. My father is a minister. I have three
sisters. I have a cat named Tommy. I have a velocipede and a sled.
I like HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE very much; I hope you will print my
letter in it.

UEL G.

* * * * *

"Little robin singing
From the cherry-tree,
Won't you leave your bower,
Come and play with me?"

"No, no, no," the little robin said;
"I must sing, and you must work."
And so the May day sped.

"Little streamlet dancing
Onward to the sea,
Won't you stop your leaping,
Come and play with me?"

"No, no, no," the merry brooklet said;
"I must play, and you must work,
You pretty curly-head."

"Little flower growing
Oh, so wild and free,
Won't you leave the meadow,
Come and play with me?"

"No, no, no," the sweet spring beauty said;
"I must grow, and so must you."
And thus the May day fled.

* * * * *

BELLEVILLE, ILLINOIS.

I am a little girl twelve years old. I read HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE,
and enjoy it very much. We all read it in school. Our teacher gets
it for us. Is he not kind? I have been sick ever since Christmas.
But I have taken my medicine patiently, and hope soon to be well.
My brother and I have a little pet rabbit; it eats blue grass and
drinks milk very readily. I have a pet calf; her name is Daisy; and
a cow whose name is Lily. I have three sisters and two brothers. We
had nice times on Easter. We live in the country, and everything is
so beautiful now. I love the Post-office Box very much, and read it
first every time.

This is my first letter to HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. Please put it in
the Post-office Box.

MARY A. K.

* * * * *

UTICA, NEW YORK.

When we came from England, about two years ago, we brought our
Persian cat with us. Her name was Sooty, because her fur was so
dark. We taught her to carry meat to a paper on the floor, so as
not to soil the carpet. We lost her about a year after, so we kept
her kitten, and named her Pansy. She carries her food to the paper,
and we have also taught her to ring the bell for her meals. We turn
the large dinner-bell on its side, and then she knocks the tongue
about with her paw. She was very good-tempered until this summer,
when mamma brought another little Persian kitten from England, and
then she became so jealous that it spoiled her temper completely.
The kitten's name is Gypsy, and she is such a little pet! She was
born in Scotland, then went to England, and was "highly commended"
at an exhibition of cats there, and at last she crossed the
Atlantic to America; so she has seen a good deal of the world, has
she not? We have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE a long time now. I do
like to read some of the letters, and I hope this one will add to
the pleasure of some other reader.

JANIE P. G.

* * * * *

MAYFIELD, OHIO.

I am a little girl, and I live on a farm with my grandpa and
grandma. I went to school six months last winter. I had two miles
and a quarter to go. I went to a graded school, and there were
thirty scholars in my room. I have no brother nor sister to play
with. I have two pet lambs and ten chickens. I also have a piano.
I took nineteen lessons last summer, and I am going to take more
this summer. I liked the story of "Talking Leaves" very much.
Good-night.

M. G.

* * * * *

ELDER SISTER.--Certainly the younger children should mind what you say when your father and mother are away from home. They will do this more pleasantly if you ask than if you order them, however. Try the plan of speaking gently without raising your voice.

* * * * *

MARY P.--The best time to answer a letter is, if possible, the day on which you receive it. Just after reading your friend's words you feel as if you had been brought very near to her, and there is a freshness and glow in answering her at once which will be gone by the next week. Still, some friends prefer to be kept waiting a little while. If Carrie D. is of that opinion, and prefers not to be answered for a few days or weeks, you might write her a journal letter. Every evening you might set down some of the incidents of your home life, tell her whom you have seen, what books you are reading, what new receipts you have tried, and what flowers are in bloom in the woods and garden. Such a letter would be very much better worth your sending than a hasty scrawl dashed off without care or pains. Above all, my dear, never apologize for a careless letter. If it needs an excuse, it should not be sent.

* * * * *

ROBERT.--The battle of Lutzen was fought on the 6th of November, 1632. It was in this battle that the great Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden was killed. Gustavus was a leader of wonderful courage and many resources. Dressed in gray with a green plume, he would always be seen in the thickest of the fight, and often before a battle began he would be seen to kneel down and pray in the presence of the soldiers. I am very glad that you find history so captivating.

* * * * *

THE CARE OF PETS.--Children who are unwilling to care for their pets should not keep them. A little bird in its cage can not provide its own seed and water, nor fill its bath, and if its mistress neglects to give it food and drink regularly, it will suffer, and very likely die. In taking care of pet animals it is very necessary to attend to their wants at a regular time every day, and their houses, boxes, and cages should be kept very clean.

* * * * *

JULIET L. T.--The Postmistress will return your graceful little sketch, if you send her word that you would like her to do so. In exchanging, you need simply to state what you have to offer and what you wish to receive. Do this as briefly as possible. Your living abroad does not at all interfere with your being a very welcome exchanger.

* * * * *

C. Y. P. R. U.

We think our readers will enjoy this pretty and poetical legend from the Russian:

THE SUN AND THE MOON.

It was late, late, one evening, and little Oscar had not yet gone to sleep. His mamma stood beside his tiny white bed, and told him ever so many stories, but still Oscar would not go to sleep. He looked and looked toward the window, at which a lovely moonbeam was entering, and which, gliding along the carpet, mounted up to his tiny bed.

"Mamma," said he, after having listened to the wonders of the "Little Golden Fish" and the "White Fairy," "tell me why the moon shines at night."

Mamma thought a little, and then replied:

"One day, thousands of years ago, the sun was tired after his long walk, and unable to go any further, so the Lord said to him, 'Go now, lie down and sleep; and when thou sleepest all things shall sleep with thee--men and birds and beasts.' And the sun was going away to sleep when he met the moon. 'O lovely golden moon,' he said, 'sweet sister mine, will you do me a favor? Light your lantern, and while I sleep, go softly and with noiseless steps all over the earth. Peep in at every window, and see if the children within are good and say their prayers, or if they cry and keep others from sleeping, but, above all, if they are quiet, and go to sleep betimes. Then come to me to-morrow morning, and tell me everything.' And so every evening, when the sun goes to sleep, the moon walks about, and looks in at the windows everywhere with wide-open eyes. Then when day is about to dawn, she goes and knocks at the gates of the sun: 'Tap! tap! tap! Open, dear brother mine; the cranes are flying through the air, the cocks are crowing, and the bells down below are ringing in the morning.' Then the sun gets up quickly, and says to the moon, 'Dear sister, tell me all that has been happening during the night.' Then the moon tells him everything she has seen in her travels. If all has been quiet, if no one has been weeping, and especially if the little children have gone quietly to sleep, the sun will come gayly out of his palace, all shining with gold and precious stones. But if they have not been good, he will wrap himself in clouds and mist, make a cold wind blow, and send down great showers of rain and sleet, and then the nurses can not take the children out into the gardens to chase the butterflies."

"Ah," said Oscar, who was a good little boy; and then he closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

* * * * *

THE SPANISH NOBLEMAN.

The days are very soon coming when boys and girls will scorn fireside amusements, and think no game worth playing that does not take them out among the green fields and flower-strewn hedges. But in the mean time, May is sure to bring us many raw, unpleasant days and rainy evenings to be disposed of somehow. Here is a game called "The Spanish Nobleman," that may help pass a leisure hour.

The company arrange themselves in a long straight line at one end of the room, excepting one person, who is to be the nobleman, and he must take his place at the other end of the room. Advancing to his friends, the nobleman must then sing the following lines:

"I am a nobleman from Spain,
Coming to court your daughter Jane."

To which the rest reply:

"Our daughter Jane is yet too young.
She has not learned her mother's tongue."

The nobleman replies:

"Be she young or be she old,
For her beauty she must be sold;
So fare you well, my ladies gay.
I'll call again another day."

The company then advance, singing:

"Turn back, turn back, you noble lord,
And brush your boots and spurs so bright."

Whereupon the Spanish nobleman replies, with something of rebuke in his tone:

"My boots and spurs gave you no thought,
For in this land they were not bought,
Neither for silver nor for gold.
So fare you well, my ladies gay,
I'll call again another day."

All then advance, saying:

"Turn back, turn back, you noble lord,
And choose the fairest in your sight."

The nobleman, fixing upon--supposing we say Kitty--then says:

"The fairest one that I can see
Is pretty Kitty: come to me."

The couple go back hand in hand rejoicing. The whole performance is then recommenced; but the second time, instead of only one nobleman, two noblemen advance, and the rhyme is gone through again, ending at last in another companion being induced to join the little band of noblemen. Thus the game is carried on, until in the end all have gradually been won over to the opposite side.

* * * * *

SISTER.--A girl of fifteen might make many pretty things for a boy of seventeen. A band for the inside of his hat, embroidered with his initials, a pair of worked suspenders, a pincushion for his pocket, a little case for his letters, or a watch case shaped like a horseshoe, to hang over his bureau, would each or all please him, we are sure.

* * * * *

We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. this week to "The Pyramids of Egypt" and to "The Canoe Fight." Then, for the benefit of the boys, there is an article on "Trout-Fishing," in which they will find full directions as to the best methods of capturing the speckled beauties that inhabit our babbling brooks and shady forest streams.

* * * * *

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:

Ethel Franklin, Chicago, $1; Carla E. D., Stuttgart, Germany, $1;
Robin Hood Archery Club, Yorkville, $25; Florence Edith Belcher,
Shawangunk, N. Y., 20c.; Annie M. Miller, Charleston, S. C., $1;
Herbert Boyer, Delaware, Ohio, $1.50; Mary L. Deeming, Lockport,
Ill., $1; Sarah Phelp's Easter Offering, 18c.; "From one whose boy
has gone home," $1; Willie T. Lent's Easter Offering, Jersey City,
50c.; Anna M. and Mary L. Smith, Columbus, Ohio, $1; Easter
Offering from a Friend, $1; Easter Offering from Flory and Earle
Stone, earned by them during Lent, Earlville, N. Y., 35c.; Easter
Offering earned by Allen P. Gilbert, Detroit, Mich., $1; Anonymous,
Philadelphia, $1; Earned by Jessie Thomas, N. Y., $2; Dora and
Janet Gilmour, Stanbridge, Can., 50c.; Easter Offering, S. G. C.,
East Orange, $2; Easter Offering from Burial Guild ($3.50),
Sewing-School ($3), and Girls' Friendly Society ($1) of
Transfiguration Chapel, New York, $7.50: "Cheerful Givers," from
Sunday-school of Church of the Transfiguration, New York, $3.10;
John Peterson, Frank Jackson, Charlie Weeks, Vincent Peterson,
Willie Napoleon, Edward Johnson, and Willie Thomas, New York
(savings through Lent), $7; Mattie M. Heartt, Wahjamega, Mich., $1;
Easter Offering from Bessie Winans, Brooklyn, $1.10; Easter
Offering from the Sunday-school of the Church of the
Transfiguration, New York--Miss Lena Fanshawe's, Miss Agnes Kain's,
Miss Dod's, Miss Struthers's, Miss Whitlock's, Miss M. R.
Chauncey's, Miss E. G. Shreve's, Miss M. S. Shreeves's, Mrs.
Elton's, and Mrs. Martin's classes--$48.39; total, $109.32.
Previously reported, $297.52; April 15, grand total, $406.84.

E. AUGUSTA FANSHAWE, Treasurer, 43 New St.

* * * * *

COLUMBUS, OHIO.

We saved our pennies and put them in our little bank, and now we
send $1 for the Cot. We are glad the poor little sick children have
such nice little beds to lie on when they are sick, and we wish we
had lots of dollars to send to them.

We are little girls. I am 'most six, and Mary is four, and mamma is
writing this for us.

ANNA MABEL SMITH.
MARY L. SMITH.

* * * * *

DELAWARE, OHIO.

I am a little boy seven years old. Mamma has read to me about the
Young People's Cot. Last winter I was very sick, but God made me
well. I send a thank-offering for the Cot, $1.50; I earned it
myself.

HERBERT B.

* * * * *

CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA.

I inclose in this letter $1 that I have saved out of my spending
money for the Young People's Cot in St. Mary's Hospital. I hope
that it won't be very long before the cot is really _ours_, and
some dear little child made well and happy in it. I am only nine
years old, but I hope that you will let me help you all I can.

ANNIE MAXWELL MILLER.

* * * * *

NEW YORK CITY.

We had a fair at our church last month, and mamma taught me how to
make some flag pen-wipers for the Sunday-school table. They were
sold for 25 cents each. I wanted to send some money to Young
People's Cot, and mamma said I might send what I could earn; then
it would be truly mine. I made five more pen-wipers and sold them,
and one gentleman gave me 50 cents for his, which made $1.50. Then
I sold some papers, and grandma gave me some money for hanging up
my cloak when I came in from school, as I was in the habit of
throwing it on the lounge. These altogether made $2. I have two
little brothers who are going to try and earn something soon. I am
eight years old, and go to a Kindergarten.

H. JESSIE THOMAS.

* * * * *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

TWO HOUR-GLASS PUZZLES.

1.--1. A city in Germany. 2. A part of the Russian Empire. 3. A town in Massachusetts. 4. A river in the Russian Empire. 5. A letter. 6. A river in Russia. 7. Small islands in the Atlantic. 8. A river in North Carolina. 9. One of the United States. Centrals read downward--A city in Australia.

2.--1. A portion of the Negro River in South America. 2. A city in Hadramant, Asia. 3. A river in Ireland. 4. A letter. 5. A river in Scotland. 6. A river in Lower Guinea. 7. A city in South America. Centrals read downward--An island in the far North.

A. E. F.

* * * * *

No. 2.

THREE ENIGMAS.

1.

My first is in bird, but not in hen.
My second in owl, but not in wren.
My third in snipe, but not in quail.
My fourth in boat, but not in sail.
My fifth in olive, but not in fig.
My sixth in branch, but not in twig.
My whole is a city famed far and wide,
Whose shores are washed by the Atlantic tide.

ROGER DERBY.

2.

First in rap, but not in knock.
Second in wharf, but not in dock.
Third in hot, but not in warm.
Fourth in road, but not in path.
Fifth in hour, but not in time.
Sixth in needle, not in pin.
Seventh in flower, not in plant.
Eighth in snow, but not in hail.
Ninth in deed, but not in act.
Tenth in dream, but not in fact.
Eleventh in otter, not in seal.
Twelfth in zinc, but not in steel.
My whole a lovely blushing flower
Which makes the grove a splendid bower.

MARY E. D. W.

3.

First in knot, but not in rope.
Second in fight, but not in cope.
Third in gong, but not in bell.
Fourth in height, but not in dell.
Fifth in shout, but not in sigh.
Sixth in thirsty, not in dry.
Seventh in ant, but not in bee.
Eighth in mortgage, not in fee.
Ninth in gale, but not in wind.
Tenth in Bundelkund, not in Scinde.
Eleventh in oyster, not in clam.
A bird of rarest charms I am.

J. W. (aged 9).

* * * * *

No. 3.

TWO DIAMONDS.

1.--1. In cowslip. 2. Skill. 3. Something very nice. 4. A sailor. 5. In mouse-trap.

BENNY FISHEL.

2.--1. A letter. 2. A month. 3. A city officer. 4. A pronoun. 5. A letter.

MILTON W.

* * * * *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 128.

No. 1.

M O R A L
R O Y A L
B A C O N
H E R A T
D E P O T

No. 2.

M E T A L A L T E R
E V E R Y L E A V E
T E N O R T A K E N
A R O S E E V E N T
L Y R E S R E N T S

No. 3.

C aricature S
A lt O
P ne L
T orri D
A lta I
I r E
N ea R

No. 4.

H A R P E R S
A L E R T
A N T
N
M A M
B E N C H
M A T T I N G

* * * * *

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Lulu Kirtland, Gracie Norris, Walter Morill, Minnie E. Rosenfeld, Anne J. Thomas, Benny Fisher, "Icicle," Cora Crutchers, B. I., J. Combs, Robba Miller, R. B. B., Elsie O., H. R. G., May Sherman, Samuel Bronson, Arthur Cary, Reginald Bayliss, John Bentley, Amy Hilton, Rosa Snyder, Allie Lamb, "Gus," George Gale, "Robin Hood," John C. Myers, William H. Shine.

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

KING SIMPLE.

BY AN OLD BOY.

This game is known by so many names that to give them all would occupy a great deal of unnecessary space, while just as much fun can be had from it if only one is given.

A base is marked off at either end of the play-ground, leaving a space in the middle. One of the players is chosen catcher, or "wolf," and takes up his position in the middle, between the two bases; the others run across from base to base while he endeavors to catch and hold them. If he can hold one while he can count ten, it is considered a fair catch, and the prisoner becomes wolf too, and assists in the capture of more, all of whom, as soon as caught, go to swell the number of wolves. Of course each passage across is more dangerous than the preceding one, since there are more wolves to avoid. At the same time a great part of the fun consists in "dodging." The boy that can change his course the quickest and turn and double has the best chance. Sometimes hats and jackets are left in the hands of the wolves, the owners having expertly wriggled out of them, and arrived safe at the base with these articles missing.

When a player has started from his base, he can not turn back, but must continue to the opposite base. The fun, of course, increases as the wolves become more numerous. Sometimes jackets even suffer in the fray. This, however, should not be allowed. A strict rule should forbid too much strength being used by the wolves or their captives. Anything else only produces mischief, and spoils the fun.

* * * * *

REMARKABLE FEATS BY SPIDERS.

A small-sized spider had made his web on the under side of a table. Early one morning a small grasshopper was noticed on the floor, directly under the web, and on approaching to take it away, it was found that the spider had thrown a line round one of its legs. While the observer was looking at it, the spider came down and lassoed the opposite leg of the grasshopper, and continued for several minutes darting up and down, and fastening lines to different parts of the body of his victim. The struggles of the grasshopper, though a full-grown one, were unavailing to effect his escape.

As his struggles became more and more feeble, the spider threw his lines round him; and when he had become nearly exhausted, his captor proceeded to raise him from the floor. This he did by raising one end at a time. He at first raised the head and part of the body nearly half an inch, then raised the other end, and continued so to work until the grasshopper was elevated five or six inches. Thus hung in chains, the victim was left to die.

The "trap-door spider" is indeed most interesting. Erber tells us in _Life and Her Children_, by A. B. Buckley, that he once sat for hours on a moonlight night watching the doings of these insects. He saw two of the spiders come out each from its hole, and pushing open their doors, fasten them back by fine threads to blades of grass. They then spun a web round the open hole, and went back into their tunnels. By-and-by two beetles were caught, one in each web. In an instant the spiders darted out, and pierced their victims with their poisoned fangs, sucked out their soft flesh, and carried the empty bodies away some distance from their holes. Erber left them; but on returning in the morning, he found the spiders had cleared away all trace of the webs, and were shut down snugly in their hidden homes.

Who among us works more cleverly or with more industry for daily bread than these little spiders? They do it, too, under many difficulties and dangers; for birds and lizards are watching above-ground to make a meal of them, whilst crawling insects creep into their holes to attack them.

Some of these spiders have learned a means of escaping even this danger, for they make a second tunnel branching out of the first, and build a doorway between the two, so that they can retreat into the second passage in case of attack, and, by setting their backs against the door, baffle the intruder.

* * * * *

HOW TO BIND MUSIC.

Should you wish to bind music, an atlas, or any wide volume which should lie flat on the table when opened, a "flexible" or elastic back should be made, instead of a "spring" or open one.

In this case, a few appliances will be needed, such as a "baker's rasp," some unbleached calico, and a solution of India rubber. This solution is sold in tins. Three coats of it should be applied to the back of the music-book, and two to a strip of the calico, which latter should lap over half an inch on each side. In preparing the back for the solution, rub up and indent the folded edges composing the back with the baker's rasp, so as to leave crevices for the reception of as much of the solution as possible. The head-band is secured by gluing a piece of fine calico all down the back.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, May 2, 1882, by Various