Chapter II: Part 2

You have seen from what I have said, even if you have not noticed it yourself, that humming-birds come about flowers of various kinds constantly, and evidently do it for some object. Perhaps you have been told that they get their food from the flowers. Do you know of what that food consists? It was formerly always said that they sucked the honey from the flowers, and that the honey constituted their food, and I have read many accounts in which the attempt was made to show how nicely their bills were fitted to draw up the honey from the bottom of the flower. We know now that this is not so. The humming-bird has nothing to do with the sweet fluid in the flowers, which by-the-way is not honey, though it is often called so; he cares nothing for it. Then why does he come to the flowers, you may ask, if he is not getting something from them. He is getting something; he is getting his food; but that food is insects, and nothing but insects. The sweet fluid of the flowers attracts great numbers of small flies of various sorts; you can scarcely look into any sort of flower without finding more or less of them, and sometimes the flower will be almost black with them. This the humming-bird knows, and he thrusts in his bill, and throwing out his slender sticky tongue, he picks up the flies one by one and swallows them, and that is the way he takes his meals; but the _honey_ is nothing to him. The next time you see a humming-bird, watch him carefully, and remember what it is he is gathering.

RACE-BALL: A NEW GAME.

Race-ball is a highly interesting game, combining the best points of lacrosse and chevy. The game is played with five men on a side, each armed with a lacrosse bat. The sides congregate in their respective dens, and the captains toss for innings. Let us suppose the captain of C den wins the toss, the D den side then range themselves in a row on the line E, and the first man in on the line F, the latter having a lacrosse ball on his bat, and with this, directly the umpire cries "play," he tears off in the direction of the "Home" A, and the D side give chase, the object of the man in being to drop the ball in his "Home" while part of his foot, at least, is over the "home line"; the object of the others, to deprive him of the ball and take it to their den. If he get home, he waits till all his side get their innings, and then starts again; if not, he is out. Each man home counts one point, and the inning lasts till all are out, when the total is made up, and the other side go in, the highest score, of course, winning. When a man finds he can not get home, he may get the ball back to his den, and then wait his next inning, but without counting anything for his "failed inning." None of the in side may help the man in; one minute is given to the out side to get ready between each man, and three minutes between each inning. The usual rules as to umpires, etc., will hold good, and the man in may not run into his opponents' ground or out of bounds, or he is out, and if he unintentionally run into his own den he counts a "failed inning" as above.

"BARTLETT & ARNOLD."

BY A. C. H. STODDARD.

I'm Bartlett myself--R. F., and my partner's name is Guy. Anyhow, he was my partner once, but he isn't now, because we've gone out of business. We've been acquainted ever since we were real little, and always good friends, except once in a while we have a tiff or something.

Last summer there was going to be a big celebration at New Holland. It's called New Holland because our State sent over for lots of Holland people to come and settle, and we'd give 'em land. So they came, and we gave 'em farms, and their town is called New Holland, and it's twelve miles away from Deerville. Deerville is _our_ town.

Well, the Governor was coming, and more'n a dozen brass bands, and militionary companies, and folks from all over everywhere. And they were going to make speeches and sing and eat dinner. And I and Guy we were talking about it under a plum-tree in the garden.

"Cal Pressy says his father's going to have a shanty and sell things out there--gingerbread, and pies, and pea-nuts, and such. And lemonade."

'Twas before this that I and Guy we wanted a good lot of money for something very particular. I don't mind telling you about it now, for 'tain't likely we'll ever get it, and I'd as lieves some other boy'd have the chance as not.

'Twas to buy a pony we wanted it, like those the circus had. The circus men told us that they bought their ponies of a man named David Solomon, who lived in a county that sounded like "Jumpup," down to Texas. And he had one more pony to sell for ten dollars, which was cheap, but we'd have to pay for him to ride on the cars.

The circus man winked a good deal and laughed when we thanked him, and said 'twasn't any trouble at all, and he hoped we'd get the pony.

So that's what we wanted the lot of money for. And as soon as Guy said that about Cal Pressy's father, an idea popped into my head, and I popped it out of my mouth:

"Let's we have a shanty too."

Guy stopped to think a minute.

"Well, say we do," said he, when the minute was up; "if the folks'll let us, which maybe they won't."

But I said they would; for I knew my father always likes to have me do business on my own hook, because he says it learns a chap to think for himself; and mother's bound to say "yes" if father does; and Mrs. Arnold always says, "Do as Mrs. Bartlett tells you"; and of course Mr. Arnold wouldn't fly in the faces and eyes of all three of 'em, and he's a little man anyway.

So it turned out just the way I said this time, though they chaffed us some, and father and Mr. Arnold made a good deal of talk about the new firm. But I and Guy we didn't care.

We counted up our bank money, and I had five dollars and four cents and Guy had three dollars and seventy-nine cents. But his father lent him one and a quarter to make him even partner, and Guy gave his note.

So that made ten, and ten dollars'll buy quite a lot of things. And the women-folks they said they'd make the pies and gingerbread and cake for nothing, but we must buy the flour, and so forth. So we did. The and-so-forth cost a good deal more'n the flour.

So we had six left--six dollars--and we bought candy with it, and nuts, and twelve lemons, and some sugar. And we divided up so's if it came to eating we wouldn't get more'n belonged to us. And we painted a sign with black paint:

"BARTLETT & ARNOLD."

It looked real nice. And Captain Tilley said he'd lend us his camping-out tent if we'd be careful of it, and we said we would.

So that's all until we came to go. We went the night before with the express wagon and Duke, because our old Duke he's pretty slow, and we wanted to be there before the procession did in the morning.

Well, we got to New Holland, and we were going to set up our tent 'long-side of the Capitol--that's their meeting-house and school-house and town-house all in a bunch. And I and Guy we were going to set up and get ready to sell things, when along comes a man, and says he, big as life,

"Got a license?"

"No, sir," said we.

"Then you can't sell here," said he.

"Why not?" said I.

"My father's name is Mr. Arnold," said Guy, redding up, "and he keeps a store."

"I don't care ef he keeps a dozen stores," said the man.

Come to find out, that man had bought the right, if that's what you call it, of a mile square, with the Capitol in the middle, and folks had to give him money or they couldn't sell there.

"How much is a license?" said I.

"Five dollars," said he.

"Will you trust us?" said Guy, bold as brass.

"No," said the man, "I won't."

Well, sir, we didn't know what to do, and all that gingerbread and pies and things just waiting to spoil. And we stood and thought.

"Let's we go half a mile back on the Deerville road," said Guy, in a minute, throwing up his hat, with a hooray, "and then the procession'll go by us, and maybe the folks'll buy something."

"Good!" said I.

So we found out how far half a mile was, and we went a little more, so's to pitch right on the top of a long hill. And we hitched old Duke out to grass. And after a while we laid down in the tent, and said 'twas fun. But I thought, for my part, I'd rather be to home.

In the night I dreamed I was in swimming, and the water was awful cold. And pretty soon I woke up, and there I was two inches deep in water, and 'twas raining like sixty. So I woke up Guy, and we felt round and found that the things to sell weren't getting wet; and then we sat down on a board, and the next thing I remember of 'twas morning, and the sun was shining, and I and Guy we laid there in the tent wet as water.

So we got up and combed each other's hair with our fingers, and then we ate a pie between us, and then we put out our sign. It was streaked some because it got rained on, but you could read it close to. Then we spread our pies an' things out on a board, and began to roll our lemons the way I'd seen mother do to make the juice come out easy. We rolled 'em slow, and before they were all done, after a long while, we heard music, away off and faint, but coming nearer every minute, the big drums and little drums and bugles and horns all pounding and tooting away at "The Star-spangled Banner."

Oh, it was grand! I and Guy we ran out to the road. We couldn't see the procession so far away, because everything was so misty after the rain; but we could hear it coming nearer and nearer, and we wondered if our folks would come first, or last, or where. It did seem as if we hadn't seen our mothers for a month of Sundays.

So we stood and cracked our feet together once in a while and waited. And all of a sudden we heard a thundering racket a good deal nearer than the procession--a dreadful rattling and humping and thumping, and somebody away behind singing out "Whoa!"

"It's Mr. Pressy's old roan!" yelled Guy, all on fire in a minute. "He's running away with the gingerbread 'n' stuff, I do believe."

Then we heard a screech--a regular ear-splitter. And a girl ran out of a little Hollander house across the road and down a ways. And she put her hands over her eyes, and tumbled right on her knees, and screeched and screeched. And it all happened in a heap, though you have to tell it one to time; so about as soon as we saw Mr. Pressy's old roan and the woman we saw two little Hollander babies, with their yellow hair braided in wispy pigtails, and white dresses on, playing right square in the middle of the road.

It seems to me as if I looked at Guy a long, long time, and Guy looked at me. And I thought about my mother, and my dog Ponto, and that we hadn't rolled all of the lemons; and then I felt as if something gave me a push. And it was all in a minute, and I and Guy we ran. And Guy was a little first, and he grabbed the nearest one, and I grabbed the other, and felt the horse right over me. And I jumped sideways, and threw the little Hollander, and something hit me.

So that's all I knew till I heard a roar in my ears that grew louder and louder, and pretty soon I knew 'twas folks talking, and I opened my eyes, and there I was in a little low room, with two funny brass candlesticks on the mantel-shelf; and my mother was there, and Guy, and Mrs. Arnold, and father, and Mr. Arnold, and Dr. Henry. They looked funny to me, and there was a queer smell in the room, and my head was tied up with a wet rag; the wet was what smelled so funny.

"Hullo!" said I, first thing.

"Oh, my boy!" said my mother, and then she began to cry like a good one.

"Pulse is pretty well," said the doctor, feeling of my wrist.

Then I looked at Guy, and Guy looked at me, and we both began to laugh.

"All right," said Dr. Henry, rubbing his glasses up; "he's all right, Mrs. Bartlett."

And so I was, only dizzy a little, and headachy where the hub of one of Mr. Pressy's wagon wheels had hit me.

Well, when we went out of the little Hollander house, there was the Governor's carriage stopped right in front, only I and Guy we didn't know 'twas the Governor's then. And the whole procession had stopped; and when we went out, you never heard such a cheer as the folks gave, just as if we'd done something big. They swung their hats--and the Governor did too--and hurrahed like all possessed for "Bartlett & Arnold." Because, you see, that Hollander woman she told the Commissioner what the fuss was all about, and he got up on a wagon and told it in English to the crowd, and the ones that could hear told the ones that couldn't, and my mother said when it came to her she thought she must faint. But she didn't; she wouldn't be so foolish.

So the folks cheered, and laughed a little, when they looked at our sign. And something swelled up big and hard in my throat, till I almost cried; but not because I was sorry. Guy almost did too. And my mother kept tight hold of my hand, and choked, and said:

"Now you'll come with me, Roy; I can't leave you here again."

Mrs. Arnold said so too. But I and Guy we said we'd got to sell our things, because we couldn't afford to lose ten dollars, could we? And there was the pony, too.

So we went over to the tent, and our mothers with us. And it seems as if everybody understood, for they came in and bought things until we had more than fifteen dollars, and not a gingerbread or anything left.

So then we said we'd go. And I suppose you won't believe that the Governor sung out "let the little young gentlemen ride with me, if you please, madam."

So we did; we rode with the Governor. And he talked to us, and looked just the same as other folks, only not so handsome as some. We sat side of him at dinner, too, because he said for us to; and after dinner some of the folks put us in their speeches. And I hope we didn't feel too stuck up about it, though my father he said 'twas enough to turn any boy's head.

So we made something out of it after all; and Guy said, what a good thing it was we didn't have a license, and had to go back just to where the babies would be in the road, or else they'd have been run over. And most all of Mr. Pressy's gingerbread and things bounced out along the way, so he didn't have much to sell; but he whipped the horse to pay for it. And that man that wouldn't let us have any license stood around all day and looked as if he thought somebody ought to give him a dollar. And we is satisfied, I and Guy are, because we made quite a lot besides what we ate, and the babies didn't get run over to boot. But don't you believe that the Hollander woman shook the two poor little chaps up like a breeze because they got their frocks muddy. That's what the folks said, anyhow, and it's just like what some women would do, _I_ think.

'Tisn't likely we'll ever get the pony the way I said at first, because the circus man didn't tell us the town where Mr. David Solomon lives, and we don't know. And I don't know as I ought to tell this story, because it's about myself so much; but maybe you needn't print my name to it, and then folks won't know it's me.

Six little goslings without any shoes,
But to make them the shoemaker has to refuse;
For he has no last that will fit their queer feet,
And in great disappointment they'll have to retreat.

And now, Baby Curlyhead, what shall we do
With six little goslings without any shoe?
We take their soft down to make Baby a bed
On which he can pillow his soft little head.

* * * * *

It's very naughty of the bees
My little boy to scare and tease,
And eat his bread and honey up;
They can breakfast out of a buttercup.

* * * * *

See the jolly, jolly baker,
He who makes the cakes so nice;
How he kneads them, kneads them, kneads them,
Out of sugar, flour, and spice.
To the oven then he takes them,
In the great hot oven bakes them,
Thinking all the time, it may be,
Of my cunning little baby,
Who will eat the sugar-cakes
That the jolly baker makes.

* * * * *

Awake, awake, my baby,
The morning sun is up
And waiting for my baby
To find a buttercup.
Buttercups and daisies
Are growing all around,
And here are baby's little shoes
To caper o'er the ground.
Soon he'll bring me pretty flowers
Gathered in the morning hours.

KISSING THROUGH THE GATE.

Golden-rod and asters;
Pears and purple grapes,
Just the prettiest colors,
And the finest shapes.

Through the dear old orchard,
Down the dear old lane,
After fruit and flowers
They will go with Jane.

First, a kiss from Kittie
Through the meadow gate.
"Hurry, sister Elsie,
We will be too late."

This from Master Freddie,
Who would hate to miss
Golden pears and apples
Just to get a kiss.

Do not fear, the flowers
And the fruit will wait
Till a little maiden
Kisses through the gate.

OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.

"WOODLAWN," JENKINTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA.

DEAR YOUNG FOLKS,--You have read so often in your charming paper of
the wonderful intelligence and strange fancies of animals that I am
tempted to write you of a "Happy Family" in which we are all
greatly interested.

About four weeks ago I went down to the stable and found a mother
cat and three little ones on a bed of straw in a half-hogshead. A
few days later another cat had three snowy little kittens in the
same place. They were the prettiest creatures you ever saw, and the
happy mammas seemed to enjoy my admiration of their babies.

The next morning, on visiting my pets, the cats were away, and to
my astonishment I found a speckled hen sitting on four of the
kittens. I drove her off, but she went most unwillingly. The next
day she was there again, and the next, but two of the kittens had
been carried out on the floor, and as I was afraid the cats would
hide them, I removed the two families, putting them on some straw
behind their former home. In a few moments the hen found them, and
has never left them day or night except for her food. The little
ones are growing finely; they creep under and around her, play with
her feathers, and do the funniest things imaginable, all of which I
am sure she enjoys.

It is a strange and beautiful sight--the two mothers, the six
babies, and the demure old hen making herself as large as possible,
often spreading her wings to accommodate one of the old cats.

A friend said to me, "I wish you would write this out for
publication, but I fear you will not be believed; I should have
doubted the story myself." So I have written a mere outline of the
pretty scenes enacted down in the stable entry of my country house;
no day has repeated itself, and as I write, the foster-mother,
nurse, friend of the family, or whatever she may be called, is
faithfully brooding over her charge, crooning low, as if to a brood
of little sleepy chicks.

I wonder how all this will end? When the children go out into the
world to seek their fortunes, will their devoted nurse stay with
the "old folks"? I know not. But this I know: that the fate of
barn-yard fowls shall not be hers. She shall be marked with our
approval, and shall live out all her days in her own way, and
according to her "own sweet will."

Hoping I have won your interest in my little family, I am very
truly yours,

F. T. C.

The Postmistress thanks you in behalf of all the children for this very entertaining account of your pets.

* * * * *

PARIS, FRANCE.

My auntie, living in Washington, sends YOUNG PEOPLE to me. I like
it very much. I can hardly wait a week for it to come, because the
continued stories all leave off in such interesting places. All the
little boys and girls who write letters tell about their pets. I
have not any. I have neither brother nor sister. I am eleven years
old. I go to a French college, where there are twelve hundred boys.
It is a government school, and we wear a uniform. Blue pantaloons
with red stripes up the side, a jacket and vest with brass buttons,
and a little cap trimmed with gold tape. The name of my school is
College Rollin. Each boy has his own room. We go to bed at eight
o'clock, and get up at six. Papa comes for me Saturday evening at
seven o'clock. I spend Sunday at home, and return to the college at
nine in the evening.

I am taking my vacation now. I went with my uncle to the sea-shore
at Dieppe. There is a very old fort there, and also old churches
about falling to pieces. I went to Dinan, and saw a large
fortification. I went to St. Malo, and then to Granville. Both of
these places are on the sea-shore, and both have old forts and
churches which interest visitors. I gathered some pretty shells and
pebbles. I had a very nice time playing in the sand. I also went to
the Isle of Jersey, which belongs to England. We went to take a
drive, and I saw some large caves.

I am now staying in the country by the side of a little lake, and
in about five minutes' walk you are in the woods. I have a little
boat in which I sail on the lake. I have a friend who has a donkey.
I go nearly every day to ride with him.

This is the first letter I have written to YOUNG PEOPLE. I hope it
is not too long to be published. My auntie is very much interested
in the Post-office Box.

HARRY J. B.

Your letter pleased me very much, Harry, for it was almost as easy to read as print, so very carefully had you formed each character. Your uniform is a very pretty one. I hope all the boys who wear it behave always like little gentlemen. I am glad you had so pleasant a vacation.

* * * * *

BEECHLAND, KENTUCKY.

I have been wishing to write to you for some time, but as my oldest
brother had written, mamma said it would be better for me to wait
awhile. Friday was my birthday; I was seven years old. Brother is
almost nine, and we have a fat little brother just five. Our baby
sister is almost two years old, and she is so cute and sweet! We
all like the paper very much indeed, and think the pictures
beautiful. We have an aunt eight years old, two little cousins, and
brother Willie and myself who take it, so we have a nice time
talking about the pieces when we are all together. Our papa has a
new hay-press. We love to watch them bale the hay. I think we boys
who live in the country have fine times, there is so much to see
and to do, and we have so much nice fruit. Mamma says it would be
better to live in the city in winter, so that we could go to
school. As it is, she teaches us at home. There are so many of us
to play together that we do not care much for pets. Our dog Tip is
one year old now. He was named for Tip in YOUNG PEOPLE. He is a
real smart dog, although he is so small. He wants to go with us
wherever we go, but mamma wants him to stay at home, so now
whenever the "Jersey" is hitched up he hides himself under the back
seat so that we will not notice him. We have a great many things I
would love to tell you about, but I have not time now. My little
brother Charlie will want to write before long.

LUDDIE M. B.

* * * * *

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

I am a little girl eleven years old, and have taken HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE from the first number. I am just recovering from a severe
attack of diphtheria, which has left me with both limbs paralyzed.
I have a little sister five years old, and her name is Mamie. We
have no pets except a little canary-bird whose name is Dickey; he
is the sweetest little fellow you ever saw. If you wake him up in
the night he will get very angry, and spread out his wings, and
open his mouth wide at you. Has the dear Postmistress ever read the
"Elsie Series"? I have, and think they are very interesting.
Good-by, dear YOUNG PEOPLE.

JESSIE S.

I hope, dear Jessie, that you will in time recover your strength, and be able to walk again. I hope that YOUNG PEOPLE helps to amuse you and pass the time that might be weary without it.

* * * * *

HUNTINGTON, LONG ISLAND.

I am ten years old, and have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE ever since
the first number came out. I have every one except No. 142, and
that papa left in the ferry-boat. In winter we live in Brooklyn,
but in summer we come to my grandpa's farm. It is very pleasant
here; it is thirty-six miles from Brooklyn. I have two sisters and
one brother, all younger than myself. One of my sisters is a baby,
and I am her godmother. She is so cunning! We had four squirrels,
but my brother's and baby sister's died, and I gave mine to
brother, so that I have no pets now. We have four cats. The largest
one is Solomon Isaac Moses Levy Marcus Antonio, the next is Lizzie,
the next is Fannie Smith, and the fourth is Jumbo Peter.

AIMEE H.

Did you not have a headache, dear, after giving Puss No. 1 that remarkable name? I hope you do not forget to set every day the very best example you can to the little one whose godmother you are.

* * * * *

HOOD RIVER, OREGON.

I have never seen a letter in the Post-office Box from this place,
so I thought I would write. I have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE
since November, and like to read it very much. We are spending our
vacation here, but our home is in Portland, Oregon. We are only
about fifteen miles from Mount Hood, and we can also see Mount
Adams very plainly from here. Most of our trees are pine, but there
are a great many oaks too. We have lots of fun swinging on their
long branches. My brother and another man killed a rattlesnake with
six rattles the other day. We eat out-of-doors, in a dining-room
made of small pine-trees and boughs. We have a horse whose name is
Silly. There are five girls in our family and two boys. My baby
brother is three months old, and we think he is the dearest baby in
the world. He laughs right out loud sometimes. I have been trying
to learn something else besides what I find in my books at school,
but all that I have yet learned to do well is to darn stockings and
make biscuits.

DORA D. E.

If you can make good biscuits, light and sweet, and darn stockings well, you are quite a little housekeeper already.

* * * * *

GALLIPOLIS, OHIO.

I have not been taking YOUNG PEOPLE very long. But my father bought
a few copies when he was at Richmond, Virginia, about two or three
months ago, and I liked them so much that he gave me a subscription
for a birthday present. I have not many pets, but my grandmother,
who lives next door to us, has a fountain about eighteen feet
round, and she has some gold-fish. They are the largest that were
ever seen in this city. They are about ten or twelve inches long,
and they will jump out of the water for something to eat if you
hold it in your fingers. They have two little ones, which appeared
in the spring. At first they were quite dark, very nearly black,
and then they turned a pale yellow on their sides, and finally
became a golden color. The four fish came all the way from
Cincinnati in a quart bucket, and now you could not get one of them
into a bucket so small. They lived all through the cold winter, and
many and many a morning the thermometer was down below zero, and
the fountain was frozen over. They would not eat our food through
the winter, and they must have lived on insects or on air.

EDWARD S. A., JUN.

* * * * *

SILVERTON, COLORADO.

As I have not seen a letter from the Gem of the Rockies, as our
pretty town is called, I thought I would write one. While I am
writing, it is snowing quite hard, this last day of August. When I
got up this morning, as soon as the fog had disappeared, the
mountains looked beautiful. I have a nice pair of snow-shoes all
ready for winter. It is great fun snow-shoeing for my sister and I.
I have a big sister, who is helping me to make clothes for my doll.
Her name is Saidie. I am a little girl eleven years old. I am
always so delighted when I see papa coming home with my HARPER'S.
Much love to the dear Postmistress.

FLORENCE F.

Snow in August, Florence! No wonder you need snow-shoes for winter at that rate.

* * * * *

The apples, O! the apples, O!
See they come tumbling
Down below.
Climb the ladder,
And shake the tree!
One for baby,
And one for me,
And one for Dick,
Who climbs the tree
And shakes the apples,
And that makes three.

The apples, O! the apples, O!
Into the basket
See them go.
Pippins and Baldwins
All in a row;
One for baby,
And one for me,
And one for Dick,
Who climbs the tree
And shakes the apples,
And that makes three.

* * * * *

HOW THEY MAKE INDIGO.

BY A. E. T.

There are some amusing features connected with the process of making the very useful article we call indigo. You all know that it is a plant. The leaves, which are green, are first placed under heavy pressure, and then steeped from ten to fifteen hours in immense vats, so large that they contain 2000 cubic feet of water. In very hot weather this water swells until the surface becomes a frothing liquid, and should a match be applied, it would cause a loud report, and the flames would leap from vat to vat, like the will-o'-wisp flitting over marshes. These vats are filled from immense reservoirs, into which the water has been previously pumped. They have a time-keeper, who is called "gunta-paree"; he watches the process closely, and at the proper moment lets the steeped liquor run into another vessel, called the beating vat. And now comes the funniest part of it. They put a gang of coolies into the vats, each one having a long stick with a disk at the end. The coolies immediately plant themselves in two rows, facing each other; then they commence throwing up the liquor, which, meeting in mid-air, the two jets fall confusedly together. This they continue until the excitement grows intense. Such a screeching and yelling, with splashing of water and beating of sticks, until their naked bodies fairly glisten with the blue liquor. Oh, how they twist and contort themselves, until they look like imps or queer blue demons!

To see eight or ten vats full of these frightful creatures will unnerve a stranger, but to the planter it is a pleasant sight. As the blue deepens the coolie's exertions increase. Every muscle is strained, his head is thrown back, his chest expanded, and his long black hair drips with the white foam, still he keeps up the measured beat, and his cries pierce the morning air. Such scenes as I have described continue for about three hours, after which the coolies are exhausted, and require rest.

* * * * *

Although the following curious puzzle, kindly sent by our correspondent E. L. W., is not new, it may amuse many of our little readers who have never seen it before. Those who are successful in discovering the answers will have their names included among the solvers of puzzles in No. 154:

BISHOP OF OXFORD'S PUZZLE.

I have a trunk with--
1. Two lids.
2. Two caps.
3. Two musical instruments.
4. Two established measures.
5. A great number of things a carpenter can not dispense with.
6. I have always about me a couple of good fish.
7. A great number of smaller ones.
8. Two lofty trees.
9. Fine flowers.
10. The fruit of an indigenous plant.
11. Two playful animals.
12. A number of smaller and less tame breed.
13. A fine stag.
14. A great number of whips without handles.
15. Some weapons of warfare.
16. A number of weather-cocks.
17. The steps of a hotel.
18. The House of Commons on the eve of a division.
19. Two students, and a number of Spanish grandees to wait upon them.
20. A wooden box.
21. Two fine buildings.
22. The product of a camphor and caoutchouc tree.
23. Two beautiful phenomena.
24. A piece of money.
25. An article used by Titian.
26. A kind of boat in which balls are held.
27. An article used crossing rivers.
28. A fine pair of blades without handles.
20. Part of a carpenter's implement.
30. A letter finished off with bows.
31. Secure fastenings for the whole.
All these are in the human body.

* * * * *

Exchangers are requested to state definitely what they wish, as well as what they have to exchange. Do not say that you have certain articles for "offers," but name the things you prefer to receive, whether coins, books, stamps, or curiosities.

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C. Y. P. R. U.

Many of the boys and girls who read this column have derived a great deal of pleasure and profit too from the stories and histories of Jacob Abbott. His "Rollo Books" and "Franconia Stories" contain a great deal of information about every-day things, and his graver works are as entertaining as stories, so that any C. Y. who wishes to be both amused and instructed is always perfectly safe in choosing from the library a volume by Jacob Abbott.

I wanted, however, to tell you of something else about this good man which may give you a helpful hint this autumn, when you have play to manage as well as work. Even in the best-behaved and happiest group of young people, little quarrels arise if each wants his or her own way, and if there is no rule by which to decide questions of whose right or whose turn it is. Mr. Abbott loved children so dearly that he took a great deal of trouble to give them a really good time when they were visiting him. His biographer says: "His summers were enlivened always by the visits of the families of one or more of his sons, the grandchildren filling the house with their welcome noise, and his heart and life with the pleasure of doing more good than ever."

He took an interest in everything they did, and in all their plays. In one room there was a large boat-swing, and that there might never be any contention with regard to its use, he wrote in a bold hand on a large sheet of paper and posted up the following:

GENERAL ORDER.

This rocking-boat was made for girls; girls, accordingly, have
preference over boys in the use of it. Whenever, therefore, any
girls come into the swing-room, any boys that may be in the boat
must leave it at once, to give the girls the opportunity to occupy
it. If they do not occupy it, the boys may return; if, on the other
hand, they do occupy it, no boy must get into it or touch it,
except by invitation from the oldest girl in the boat, who is the
queen; and while they remain in the boat, or by the side of it,
they must be entirely under the direction of the queen or her
delegates. It is supposed that every gentlemanly boy will readily
and cordially comply with this rule; but should there be any
infraction of it, the case is to be immediately reported at
headquarters.

The later years of Mr. Abbott's life were spent at Farmington, Maine. Here, at his pleasant home called Fewacres, many things were arranged for the enjoyment of the young. His tools for gardening were always kept in complete order, and he made a number of curious little play-wagons to lighten the labor of bringing in wood. When these were not in use they were lent to the village children, who were made quite welcome to the pretty grounds.

The walks and avenues at Fewacres had names given them by their owner in memory of happy days spent there by himself and friends. "The Great Terrace," "The Zigzag," "The Long Level," "The Coos Road," "Little Mite o' Blue," "The Fan Elm," "Willie's Seat," "The Picnic Ground," and "The Barberry Hedge" were some of these.

When Mr. Abbott had finished reading his weekly illustrated papers, they were carefully stitched into strong brown paper covers, and passed from hand to hand among his humbler neighbors or the men who worked for him. His principle through life was to make everybody near him as happy as he possibly could.

* * * * *

We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. to "The Story of a Great Mammoth," as told by Elizabeth Abercrombie, and to Mr. Arthur Lindsley's account of the ways and habits of that charming little inhabitant of the bird-world so fancifully called "El Bucle de Esmeralda y Oro."

* * * * *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

ENIGMA.

My first is in Thames, but not in Rhine.
My second in Po, but not in Tyne.
My third is in Hebrew, but not in Greek.
My fourth is in river, but not in creek.
My fifth is in think, but not in thought.
My sixth is in expect, but not in sought.
My whole is a puzzle most profound;
In fable and story quite renowned.

WALTER W.

* * * * *

No. 2.

PROGRESSIVE HALE-SQUARE.

1. A letter. 2. Father. 3. Part of a gun. 4. To palpitate.

* * * * *

No. 3.

HIDDEN RIVERS.

1. Fred is to have a pony. 2. Is Pettengil a good fellow? 3. I know of one use for slates. 4. I say a zoology class will be nice. 5. Is this sweeter honey than yours? 6. I do not know. 7. This heat will crack Etta's vase. 8. See the sheep, Ollie. 9. Go range the forests wide. 10. We have had unanimity to-day. 11. He always uses whole nails. 12. O Bill, return quickly. 13. You should see the mob I left. 14. I am not in a mood for it. 15. John could win a race. 16. I went, but lo! I return. 17. I sent Seth Ames to tell you. 18. That is my pet choral. 19. I'll see that I berate him well. 20. He is both obedient and industrious. 21. The garden's made I rather think. 22. How can you rally your forces? 23. How can I let Margaret go? 24. What quantities of lint and dust! 25. Is Adelbert coming home? 26. I should call that flinty, shouldn't you?

W. L. G.

* * * * *

No. 4.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

I am composed of 10 letters.
My 1, 5, 6 is warm.
My 7, 5, 9, 10 is used on a ship.
My 3, 8, 6 is a chance.
My 9, 5, 6 is a cooking utensil.
My 9, 8, 7, 6 is a harbor.
My 1, 5, 9, 2 is a quality.
My 6, 7, 4, 9 is to stumble.
My 3, 10, 9, 2, 7 is a dreadfully afflicted person.
My 1, 8, 9 is to leap.
My whole is a beautiful flower.

S. K. M.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 147.

No. 1.

N I G H T F I F E
I D L E R I D O L
G L A D E F O I L
H E D G E E L L A
T R E E S

O G R E W I N D
G H I N I D E A
R I N D N E A R
E N D S D A R E

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No. 2.

W or M
A lkal I
T el L
E the L
R at S

No. 3.

P G
L E A A R E
P E A C H G R E E N
A C E E E L
H N

I I V
I N N A D D L E T
I N C U R I D I O M V E N U S
N U T D O T T U B
R M S

No. 4.

Light-house.

* * * * *

The answer to the Rebus on page 704 of No. 148 is "Which is the tallest of these six boys in pairs?"

* * * * *

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from William Chester, Mamie and Mattie Knox, Arthur Payson, Tom Fales, "Eureka," Harry Johnston, Emma Shaffer, "Jer Z. Man," Fay, Helen M., Flo. Hanington, Mary Hanington, Charlie Schilling, "Hoppergrass," Edith Wilcox, Augusta Low Parke, "Old Putnam's Pet," Tucker Ward, Frank Best, L. F. C. P., Mark Hamilton, Edith Cragg, Bertie Cook, "Ed. U. Cation," and Frank Lomas.

* * * * *

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

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OLD NIPPER AND THE COBBLER.

BY RUTH LAMB.

Old Nipper was, for a time, my grandfather's dog, an accomplished mastiff, and rather too good a watch-dog, for he sometimes got his owner into trouble. Leave him in the house with the injunction, "Look out, Nipper, and don't stir," and the dwelling was as safe as if guarded by a detachment of policemen.

One individual was so ill advised as to persist in entering the house when Nipper objected, and he recrossed the threshold minus a large piece of garment and a smaller piece of leg. This affair resulted in so much unpleasantness that there were serious deliberations as to what must be done with Nipper. He was evidently too good a watch-dog for a town residence, but would be invaluable at a certain lone farm-house inhabited by a friend who knew his good qualities. In time Nipper grew reconciled to the change, and attached to his new owner's family.

In my grandfather's time there were many simple domestic institutions which are now things of the past. Amongst these were itinerant cobblers--not shoe-makers, but shoe-menders--who used to travel from place to place with their tools on their backs.

Some little time after Nipper was settled in his country home, old Isaac Firth, an itinerant cobbler known to all the country-side, made his appearance at the kitchen door of the farm. The dog was sole housekeeper, and was stretched full length just within the threshold.

Nipper and Isaac Firth were old acquaintances, so the old dog welcomed the cobbler with a wag of his tail, and permitted him to enter. The day was warm. A walk of half a dozen miles in the hot sun had disposed Isaac for a rest; so he unstrapped his kit and sat down, expecting to see the mistress or a servant at any minute.

But time passed on, and Isaac, being thirsty as well as tired, looked round for something drinkable. He took up a mug, and was going to the pump for some water, when an ominous growl from Nipper compelled him to put down the article.

"So I mustn't touch anything left in your care, old fellow," said he. "All right. This is my own, anyway, and I may as well go on to another place and be earning something in the mean while." Thus saying, he strapped up his kit of tools, and was about to lift it to his back, when Nipper gave another low growl, and looked so dangerous that he was fain to desist. Nipper's look had become a glare. It was contrary to that worthy animal's principles to allow anything to be taken _out_ of the house so long as he guarded it. You might bring _in_ what you liked, but once across the threshold, it must stay, and you too, until the return of the domestic authorities.

Isaac tried patting, soft words, all the blandishments he could think of, which were kindly received. But a movement toward the kit, and all was changed.

How stout Mr. Hatton laughed when he returned and found the cobbler afraid to stir, and Nipper on guard! He patted the old dog, declared he would not part with him for his weight in gold, and then he made up to old Isaac by immediate hospitality for the long two hours of dreary waiting.

The cobbler always enjoyed telling the story, though it was against himself, and often had to answer inquiries about Nipper's health.

* * * * *

THE GREAT PEACH PUZZLE.[3]

[3] From _New Games for Parlor and Lawn_. By GEORGE B. BARTLETT. New York: Harper & Brothers. (_In Press._)

Jack, Tom, and Ned sold peaches on the same day at precisely the same rate, and each received the same amount of money; but Tom sold three times and Ned five times as many as Jack. The reason of this was that peaches rose immensely in the course of the day, and Jack had kept the larger portion of his until the afternoon. As each boy sold at the same morning and afternoon market values, the puzzle is to find out what those rates were, how much money each boy received, and how many peaches each boy sold.

* * * * *