Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, March 16, 1880, by Various

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net


Title: Harper's Young People, March 16, 1880
       An Illustrated Weekly

Author: Various

Release Date: March 25, 2009 [EBook #28410]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, MAR 16, 1880 ***




Produced by Annie McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S

YOUNG PEOPLE

AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]


       *       *       *       *       *

VOL. I.--NO. 20. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, March 16, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.

       *       *       *       *       *




[Illustration: FRANK MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT.]

[Begun in No. 19 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, March 9.]

ACROSS THE OCEAN; OR, A BOY'S FIRST VOYAGE.

A True Story.

By J. O. DAVIDSON.


Chapter II.

THE FURNACE-ROOM.

Had Frank lain awake he would have seen a curious sight; for there are
few more picturesque scenes than the "forecastle interior" of an ocean
steamer at night, lit by the fitful gleam of its swinging lamp. This
grim-looking man, fumbling in his breast as if for the ever-ready knife
or pistol, must be dreaming of some desperate struggle by his set teeth
and hard breathing. That huge scar on the face of the gaunt, sallow
figure beside him, whose soiled red shirt and matted beard would just
suit the foreground of a Nevada gully, might tell a strange tale. That
handsome, statuesque countenance yonder, again, faultless but for the
sinister gleam of its restless eyes--what can it be doing among these
coarse, uncultivated men, not one of whom can tell why they should all
shrink from it as they do? What a study for a pirate any artist might
make out of this shaggy, black-haired giant, whose lion-like head is
hanging over the side of his bunk! His weather-beaten face looks hard as
a pine knot; but a child would run to him at once, recognizing, with its
own unerring instinct, the tender heart hidden beneath that rough
outside. Next to him lies a trim, slender lad, who looks as if he knew
more of Latin and Greek than of reefing and splicing, and whose curly
brown head some fond mother has doubtless caressed many a time; yet here
he is, an unknown sailor before the mast, with all his gifts wasted, and
doomed perhaps to sink lower still.

But these are the exceptions; the majority are sailors of the ordinary
type, careless, light-hearted, improvident, never looking beyond the
present moment--content to accept the first job that "turns up," and
quite satisfied with a day's food and a shirt to their backs. Some are
coiled up on lockers and spare sails, others sleeping off their last
night's "spree" on the bare planks, and rolling over and over with every
plunge of the vessel.

       *       *       *       *       *

Whew! what a stream of cold air comes rushing down the hatchway, as it
opens to let in the deck watch, glad enough to get below again out of
the cold and wet! Their shouts, as they dash the brine from their beards
and jackets, and chaff the comrades who are unwillingly turning out to
relieve them, arouse Frank, who for a moment can hardly make out where
he is. Then it all flashes upon him, and he "tumbles up," and goes on
deck.

Certainly, if any one ever could feel dismal at sea, it would be during
the hour before dawn, the most cheerless and uncomfortable of the whole
twenty-four. After spending the night in a lively game of cup and ball,
with yourself for the ball, and an amazingly hard wooden bunk for the
cup, you crawl on deck, bruised and aching from top to toe. While gazing
upon the inspiring landscape of gray fog and slaty blue sea, you
suddenly feel a stream of cold water splashing into your boots, while an
unfeeling sailor gruffly asks "why in thunder you can't git out o' the
way?" Springing hastily aside, you break your shins over a spar which
seems to have been put there on purpose, and get up only to be instantly
thrown down again by a lee lurch of the ship, amid the derisive laughter
of the deck watch. Meanwhile a shower of half-melted snow insinuates
itself into your eyes, and up your sleeves, and down the back of your
neck; and all this, joined to the agonizing thought that it will be at
least two hours before you can get any breakfast, speedily fills you
with a rooted hatred of everything and everybody on board the ship.

Well might poor Frank, contrasting his dismal surroundings with the
comfortable rooms and piping-hot breakfasts of his forsaken home, begin
to think that he had made a fool of himself. But he choked down the
feeling as unworthy of a _man_, and tried to turn his thoughts by
watching the two quartermasters at the wheel, who were straining every
muscle to keep the ship's head to the mountain waves that burst over the
bow every moment with the shock of a battering-ram.

Breakfast came at last, but was not very satisfactory when it did. The
old saying of "salt-horse and hard-tack" exactly described the food; and
Frank, eating with one hand while clinging desperately to the long
narrow table with the other, had quite enough to do in keeping his knife
from running into his eye, and himself from going head over heels on the
floor. At every plunge below the water-line the mess-room, already dim
enough, became almost dark, while the faces of the men looked as green
and ghastly as a band of demons in a pantomime. And, to crown all, one
of Frank's neighbors suddenly sent a tremendous splash of grease right
over him, coolly remarking,

"Now, Greeny, you won't get hurt if you fall overboard--ile calms the
water, you know."

At which all the rest laughed, and Frank felt worse than a murderer.

Breakfast over, our hero was "told off" to go below with the firemen.
Down he went, through one narrow hole after another, past deck after
deck of iron grating--down, down, down--till at last, as he emerged from
a dark passageway, a very startling scene burst upon him.

Along either side of a long narrow passage (the iron walls of which
sloped inward overhead) gaped a row of huge furnace mouths, sending out
a quivering glare of intense heat, increased by the mounds of red-hot
coals that heaped the iron floor. Amid this chaos, several huge black
figures, stripped to the waist, and with wet cloths around their sooty
faces, were flinging coal into the furnaces, or stirring the fires with
long iron rakes--now standing out gaunt and grim in the red blaze, now
vanishing into the eddies of hissing steam tossed about by the stream of
cold air from the funnel-like "wind-sail" serving as a ventilator.

A shovel was thrust into Frank Austin's hand, and he was set to keep the
doorway clear of the coal that came tumbling into it from the bunkers
where the coal-heavers were at work. In this way he labored till noon,
and then, with blistered hands and aching back, crawled up the iron
ladder, worn out, grimy, and half dazed, to his dinner.

But _what_ a dinner for Christmas-day! No appetizing turkey and
plum-pudding, eaten in the midst of loving faces and merry talk and
laughter; nothing but coarse salt-junk and hard ship-biscuit, hastily
snatched among rough, unsympathetic men, who neither knew nor cared
anything about him. And as soon as the meal was over, back again to his
weary toil in the coal bunker, which was fated, however, to be cut short
in a way that he little expected.

For a time he worked away manfully; but the heat of the room and the
monotony of his occupation combined to make him careless. Little by
little his thoughts wandered away to his pleasant home beside the
Hudson, and the little garden patch where he used to work, and the cozy
fire, in the ashes of which he and his brothers roasted their chestnuts,
and--

"Look out there!"

The warning cry came too late. There was a sudden shock--a deafening
crash--and poor Frank was seen lying on his back senseless and half
buried beneath the huge heap of coal that blocked the doorway.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




WHAT THE BOYS AND GIRLS PLAYED TWO THOUSAND YEARS AGO.

BY HATTIE B. CRAFTS.


Do you ever think about the little boys and girls who lived so long ago?
Well, in the celebrated country of Greece they were as fond of sports as
children of the present day, only they had not so many wonderful toys
made for them as are manufactured now. But could we look back upon them
at some of their sports, we should find them very happy children, and it
might surprise you to know how many games have been played century after
century, and are still played and enjoyed to-day.

The babies had their rattles and bright-colored balls, the children
their hoops and balls, and what we call "Blindman's-buff" was a favorite
game among them. Perhaps you know about the old giant Polyphemus, who
was master of a race of one-eyed giants, and who devoured the Greeks
that were round his cave, until they succeeded in putting out his eye,
and how he still groped around and endeavored to find them, but in vain.
Well, the boys and girls of Greece used to represent this story by this
very game of "Blindman's-buff." The one blindfolded was called
Polyphemus, and the others would hide and pretend they were the Greeks
whom he was to find. Another way of playing this game was for the
children to run round about the blindfolded person, and one of them
touch him. If he could tell correctly who it was, the two exchanged
places.

In Athens, and in other cities and towns as well, you might almost any
day see a whole group of children hopping along on one foot, as though
the other was hurt; but, no, it was only for the fun, as every child of
every nation knows, of seeing who could hop the farthest. Sometimes one
boy would be allowed the use of both his feet, and the others would try
to overtake him by hopping on only one foot, and for those who could do
this it was accounted a great victory.

In one of their games they set up a stone, called the Dioroe, and each
of the players was to stand at a certain distance from it, and in turn
throw stones at it. But the one who missed had rather a difficult task
to perform, for the rule of the game was that he must be blindfolded and
carry the successful player round on his back until he could go directly
from the standing-point to the Dioroe. A sport not requiring quite so
much skill, and one which many of you have perhaps practiced, consisted
in setting a stick upright in the soil wherever it was loose and moist,
and trying to dislodge it by throwing other sticks at it, keeping, of
course, at a certain distance.

Who will attempt to enumerate the many games played by a ring of
children running about one in the centre? There must be a wonderful
charm about them, so much are they played by both boys and girls in
every country. Whether little Sallie Waters had her origin in Greece I
will not pretend to say, but we do know that games were played in a
similar manner. Here are some, enjoyed especially by the boys. One boy
sat on the ground, and the others, forming themselves into a ring, ran
round him, one of them hitting him as they went; if the boy in the
centre could seize upon the one who struck him, the captive took his
place. This did very well for the smaller boys, but the older ones had
an arrangement a little in advance of it. The one in the centre was to
move about with a pot on his head, holding it with his left hand, and
the others, running around, would strike him and cry, "Who has the pot?"
To which he replied, "I, Midas," trying all the time to reach one of
them with his foot, and the first one touched was obliged to carry the
pot in his turn.

One of their most interesting games, and one which you would all enjoy,
was the twirling of the ostrakon. A line was drawn on the ground, and
the group of boys separated into two parties. A small earthenware disk,
having one side black and the other white, was brought forward, and each
party chose a side, black or white. It was then twirled along the line,
the one throwing it crying, "Night, or day," the black side representing
night, and the white day. The party whose side came up was called
victorious, and ran after the others, who fled in all directions. The
one first caught was styled "ass," and was obliged to sit down, the game
proceeding without him. And so it was continued until the whole number
were caught. This was excellent exercise, and often played by the hour
together.

A favorite game among the girls was played with five little balls or
pebbles. They would toss them into the air, and endeavor to catch many
on the back of the hand or between the fingers. Of course some of them
would often fall to the ground; but these they were allowed to pick up,
provided they did so with the fingers of the same hand on which the
others rested, which required considerable skill. The French girls have
a very pretty game of this, which is played with five little glass
balls.

We must not omit the ancestors of Punch and Judy, who lived in these
early times, though probably under different names. But however they
were called, they were just as queer-looking a family; and their arms
would move, their shoulders shrug, their eyes roll, and their feet cut
as strange capers as those of their descendants; and I have no doubt
afforded the little ones, and perhaps some older persons, as much
pleasure then as now.




GARDEN-LORE.


  Every child who has gardening tools
  Should learn by heart these gardening rules:
  He who owns a gardening spade
  Should be able to dig the depth of its blade;
  He who owns a gardening rake
  Should know what to leave and what to take;
  He who owns a gardening hoe
  Must be sure how he means his strokes to go;
  But he who owns a gardening fork
  May make it do all the other tools' work;
  Though to shift, or to pot, or annex what you can,
  A trowel's the tool for child, woman, or man.




THE ROBBER BLUEBIRD.

BY A LITTLE GIRL.


Once upon a time there lived in a beautiful house two little brothers,
called John and Harry, and they were almost always very good boys.

But one day they got angry at each other, and they looked just like two
turkey-gobblers, their faces were so red, and they blustered about so.
John declared that he would thrash Harry; and Harry made faces at John,
and dared him to fight.

What do you think all the quarrel was about? Why, nothing but a little
piece of cake that the cook had given to Harry. Now just as they were
going to strike one another, they saw a beautiful bluebird, with a
lovely crest upon its head, fly down into the yard and pick up a large
worm.

He was just going to fly off with it, when another bird, just like
himself, dived down and tried to take the worm from the one that had
first found it.

Before the two brothers could say a word, the birds were flying at each
other, and tearing off their beautiful crests and coats.

Harry and John stood watching them, and quite forgot that they had a
fight on hand of their own.

Just as the naughty bird that was trying to rob his brother bluebird had
seized the worm, and was about to fly away with it, there was a sudden
rush and flash, and Pussy Cat ran under the house with the wicked little
robber tight between her teeth.

Then the other bird, trembling with fear, flew up into a tree to rest.

"Oh, John!" cried Harry, "just think if that had been you and me, and a
lion had come and carried one of us off, and ate us up!"

"Only--only it would not have been you, Harry. He would have carried me
off, because it was I began the quarrel. Cook gave you the cake, and I
wanted to take it from you, just like the robber bluebird did. Let us
kiss and be friends, Harry."

"Yes, and you can have half of my cake, John."

"And I hope my little boys will never do so again," said mamma, who had
been watching, and heard all.

And years afterward, when John and Harry were away from their mamma and
home, they often reminded each other of the lesson they had learned from
the fate of the robber bluebird.




[Illustration]

DREAMING.


  "He is dreaming. Guess of what, now."
    "Well, I guess that in his hand
  Is a marble--such a beauty!
    And he dreams of wonder-land.

  "Dreams a dream of giants rolling
    Giant marbles--oh, such fun!
  See, he smiles, for he has seen one
    Bigger, brighter, than the sun."




CHAMPION.

BY MRS. L. G. MORSE.


Hetty had five brothers and sisters, and Champion, the dog, felt that he
had too much to do. There were plenty of people in the cottage at Lenox,
where they lived in summer, to take care of the children, but there is a
certain sort of responsibility which dogs of good, sound character are
not willing to intrust to anybody. The baby was always with his mother
or nurse, and Champion found it easy to take care of the other little
ones, for they were not allowed to venture outside of the garden gate,
and if that were carelessly left open, he had only to station himself in
front of it, and to gently tumble them over on the grass if they
attempted to pass through it. He had never hurt them, and their mother
thought that they could not be under any better protection than that of
good old faithful "Cham."

But Hetty, who was seven years old, and Rudolph, who was nine, worried
the dog terribly, and caused him to wear almost a perpetual scowl of
anxiety upon his face. He evidently looked upon them as not old enough
to be trusted by themselves, and it was a serious annoyance to him that
they were too big to be rolled over on the grass, and so kept within the
limits of the garden.

One lovely summer morning Hetty was missing. She had run away with a
beautiful ripe plum, which her cousin Francis had picked in order to
show her that the bloom upon it was exactly the color of old "Greylock"
in the distance. So she climbed the nearest hill, to compare the colors
of the mountain and the plum. Looking away over the valley, the child
saw too much beauty all at once. Clasping her hands behind her, she took
in a long sweet breath of morning air, and did not know what it was that
filled her whole soul with joy. She laughed aloud up at the clear sky,
and spreading her arms as if they were the wings of a bird, she ran down
the hill-side. Oh, there were so many robins! And butterflies flew
around her in little clouds. The fields were like fairy-land, they were
so full of flowers. She picked baby daisies, and put them inside of the
wild-carrot heads, not in blossom yet, which grew in the shape of nests.
When she climbed over a stone wall to the road, a squirrel ran across
her path, into the woods on the opposite side. "There!" she whispered,
softly, "maybe I can find his hole." And she ran after him.

It was a great pity that Champion had so much to do that morning. When
dinner was ready, and no Hetty appeared, Rudy called the dog, and asked,
"Cham, where's Hetty?"

Champion whined piteously, and looked first down the road, then up at
Rudy, and then down the road again.

"Come and eat some dinner, Rudy," said his mother, shading her eyes, and
looking anxiously toward the woods. "Hetty will feel hungry, and come
home soon now." But she looked proudly after Rudy when he clapped his
hat on with a thump, and said, "Never you mind about me, mother; I'll
eat more if I find Het first," and went racing after Champion, who
bounded over the ground as if he meant to run all the way to the
mountain.

At the edge of the woods Rudy waited, and whistled to Cham. "Hold on!"
he said; "maybe she's hiding." And for a while he looked about the
laurel bushes in the places where they were accustomed to play, and
sang, lustily,

  "A-roving, a-roving,
  I'll go no more a-roving
    With thee, fair maid."

But after a while he ceased his singing, and answered one of Champion's
whines by ramming his hands in his pockets, and saying, "Look a-here,
Cham! If anything has happened to Het, I'll--" The thought brought such
a film over his honest brown eyes that he had to rub his cuff over them
a good many times before he could see well enough to go on with his
search. Fortunately, dogs don't cry tears, and Champion's eyes seemed to
grow brighter as Rudy's grew dim. He seemed to say to himself: "If Rudy
is going to give up, and cry about it, I've got to take matters into my
own hands. Hetty's got to be found, and I can't waste my time waiting
for a boy to get the better of his feelings. He oughtn't to _have_ any
feelings until after our business is settled!" And Champion gave Rudy's
boot a good-by lick, and raced away alone.

Rudy dried his eyes, and had no more idea than the dog had of giving up
the search. Dogs are just as apt to misunderstand boys as boys are to
misunderstand dogs.

Rudy ran over woods and fields, up and down the neighboring hills,
calling Hetty and Champion, whistling and shouting, until he was hoarse.
He could not find Hetty, and Champion did not return.

After a while he got angry at the dog, and said, between his teeth,
"I'll give it to Cham for running away from me, just when I want him to
help me find Het!" But his anger melted into grief when the terrible
thought came that perhaps some dreadful thing had happened to his
sister. Once he lay down flat upon his face, and cried aloud at the
sudden memory of how he had teased her that very morning by running away
with one of her doll's shoes, which he had only just that moment
switched out of his pocket. In a few moments, however, he jumped up
again, looked at the little shoe tenderly, and tied it carefully in a
corner of his handkerchief, saying, "There! I'll give it back the minute
I find her, and I'll fix her something for the baby-house, to make up."

He started off once more, this time without stopping to think where
Hetty would be likely to go, only rushing about in a sort of desperate
way, calling her by name, and shouting for Cham.

[Illustration: ON GUARD.]

He stopped on top of a high hill called the Ledge, and looked down the
steep side of it a moment. Hark! He certainly heard the whine of a dog.
He clambered down a little way, and called his loudest. The dog's whine
answered him again. With a new hope in his heart, he called, and
listened until the whine grew louder and louder, and he recognized
Cham's bark. Catching at branches, stumbling, sliding, and blundering,
he made his way down the hill-side, until suddenly the dog's bark was
almost at his ears. And at last, there, farther round the side, on a
ledge, just where a light motion would send her rolling down a steep
declivity, lay Hetty; and Champion-stanch old Champion--sat upright
before her, like a brave, resolute soldier on guard, pricking up his
ears, barking loud in answer to Rudy's calls, his body quivering all
over, and his feet restless on the ground. But Rudy knew that Hetty
could roll no farther, and that Champion would sit there until help
came. He did not wait to waken Hetty, but climbing to her, he patted
Cham on the head, and bade him watch her till he returned. Then he
planted a rough, glad, boyish kiss on her unconscious cheek, and hurried
home as he had never hurried in his life before.

The mother's pride in her boy that night made her face shine, as she sat
by Hetty, who lay on the sofa, waited upon by everybody, because of her
ankle, which was slightly sprained. And she said nothing about the chips
Rudy was making, against all regulations, on the floor, as he was
whittling into shape a bench for Hetty's doll's kitchen.

"I'll tell you what, though, Het," said Rudy, "when you want to go off
again to see whether mountains are plum-colored or not, you'd better
take somebody along who knows that a carrot-weed's a flower, and that
stumps and stones _are_ stumps and stones. You'd better take a
person--like me, you know," he said, winking comically at Hetty--"who
won't mistake a frightened squirrel for the king of the brown elves off
on a hunting spree, or for anything else that never was born, except
inside of your topsy-turvy head."

Hetty laughed, and blushed rosy red. "I guess I won't," she said; "but
if you had found yourself, Rudy, sliding and tumbling and running like
lightning down that hill, I guess _your_ head would have been
topsy-turvy for once. And I don't know which is the funniest, to faint
away, or to wake up and find Cham licking me. Dear, good, darling Cham!
I never _will_ go away again without Cham."

Champion licked Rudy's face as he and the boy rolled over on the rug
together, and blinked at both the children as if he understood and quite
approved of Hetty's good resolution.




THE LITTLE SHIPS OF THE WATER STREETS.

BY JAMES B. MARSHALL.


If the jolly uncle of certain Venetian girls and boys comes home from
China, and says, "Hurra, children! let's go take a ride, and have a good
time," they don't imagine it will be in an open carriage behind
swift-footed horses.

[Illustration: A GONDOLA ON THE GRAND CANAL.]

They would think of a beautiful little ship, about thirty feet long,
four or five wide, and as light as cork, called a gondola, which means
"little ship." It would be painted black, like every other gondola, and
the prow would be ornamented with a high halberd-shaped steel piece,
burnished to a dazzling glitter. This steel prow would act as a
counter-balance to their rower, who would stand on the after-end, and
row with his face in the direction they wished to be taken. The rowlock
would be simply a notched stick, and he would row with one long oar,
pushing swiftly along.

He would row so gracefully and easily that you might think you could
quickly become a good gondolier if you tried. You would change your
mind, however, after the laughable experience of rowing yourself
overboard several times, and admit that rowing a gondola requires no
small skill.

It was the people called the Veneti who, more than a thousand years ago,
settled Venice, and invented these little ships. The fifteen thousand
houses of Venice are built on a cluster of islands, over one hundred in
number, and divided by nearly one hundred and fifty canals, or water
streets. However, one may visit any part of the city without the aid of
a gondola, as the islands are joined together by three hundred and
seventy-eight bridges, and between the houses lead narrow crooked
passages, many not wider than the width of one's outspread arms.

The canals are salt, and offer at high tide fine salt-water bathing. As
most of the houses rise immediately from the water, it is not an
uncommon sight, at certain hours, to see a gentleman or his children
walk down his front-door steps arrayed for bathing, and take a "header"
from the lower step. That sounds very funny, but to the Venetians such
proceedings are quite a matter of course.

In the lagoon around the city are numerous exasperating sand islands,
exposed to view at low tide. The amateur gondolier seeks this lagoon, to
be safe from scoffers at his clumsy rowing, and often, right in the
midst of his "getting the knack of it," the tide leaves him stuck fast
on a sand island, to wait for its return.

Excepting the Grand Canal, the canals are narrow, and make innumerable
sharp turns; so that it requires more skill to steer a gondola than it
does to row, if such a thing is possible. The gondoliers display great
skill in both rowing and steering, and they cut around corners and wind
through openings seemingly impassable, always warning each other of
their intentions by certain peculiar cries.

During Venice's prosperity, gondola regattas were held, and were events
of great pomp and display. They took place on the Grand Canal, when the
whole city gathered on its banks, or in many gondolas on its surface,
and what with the music, the display of flags and banners, and the
bright-colored clothing of the color-loving people, the spectacle
certainly must have presented a scene of great brilliancy. The prizes
were money and champion flags, and with the lowest was also given a live
pig--a little pleasantry corresponding to the leather medal in American
contests.

Once a year the Doge, or chief ruler of Venice, and his officers went in
a vessel of royal magnificence, called the _Bucintora_, out upon the
Adriatic Sea, followed by a grand procession of gondolas, and there he
dropped overboard a gold ring, after certain impressive ceremonies, thus
signifying Venice's espousal with the sea, and her dominion over it.

This _Bucintora_ was a two-decked vessel propelled by one hundred and
sixty of the strongest rowers of the Venetian fleet. Its sides were
carved and gilded, some parts gold-plated, and the whole surmounted by a
gold-embroidered crimson velvet canopy. The mast is still preserved in
the arsenal at Venice, but the vessel was purposely destroyed to secure
its gold ornaments.

It is only in the severest winters--of rare occurrence--that gondolas
can not be used; but then the young Venetians may perform the--to
them--wonderful feat of walking on the water, and tell of it years
after. Some two hundred years ago the ice lasted the unheard-of time of
eighteen days, and such an impression did the event make upon the
Venetians that the year in which it happened is known to the present day
as the _anno del ghiaccio_--"year of the ice."




THE GREAT LILY'S MISSION.

BY MRS. J. B. McCONAUGHY.


Forty-three years ago last New-Year's Day a native boat was gliding
along through one of the small rivers of British Guiana, when it came to
a spot where the stream widened into a little lake. A celebrated
botanist was a voyager in the little canoe, and all at once his
attention was fixed on a wonderful plant he found growing along the
margin of the lake. All his weariness and the many discomforts of his
situation were forgotten in the enthusiasm of that moment. Never before
had he seen such a flower. One might fancy a giant had been raising
lilies to present to some fair giantess.

Imagine the rippling water covered with thick leaves of pale green,
lined with vivid crimson, each one almost large enough to cover your
bed, while all about were floating massive lilies, whose single petals
of white and rosy pink were more than a foot across, and numbered over a
hundred to a blossom.

The flower was sent home to England, and awakened great enthusiasm among
the lovers of science, but no one surmised that the fair stranger was
destined to effect a great revolution in the architecture of the world.
Yet all great enterprises have generally taken a very roundabout way
before they came to perfection. You could hardly forecast them when you
looked at their beginnings.

Such a royal lily well deserved a royal name. So it was christened the
_Victoria Regia_. Had it been a beautiful princess they were anxious to
make contented in her adopted land, they could not have taken more pains
to humor her tastes and whims. Mr. Paxton, the great gardener who had it
in charge, determined that the baby lily should never know that it was
not in its native waters, growing in its native soil, under its own
torrid skies. So he made up a bed for its roots out of burned loam and
peat; the great lazy leaves were allowed to float at their ease in a
tank of water, to which a gentle ripple was imparted by means of a
water-wheel, and then a house of glass, of a beautiful device, was built
over it all, and the right temperature kept up to still further deceive
the young South American.

With all this pampering it grew so fast that in a month it had outgrown
its house. A new one must be had forthwith, or the baby lily would be
hopelessly dwarfed. Mr. Paxton was not disconcerted by this
precociousness of his wayward pet, but at once put his talents to work
to provide it with suitable accommodations. The greenhouse he next built
was a more novel and elegant conservatory, and might rightly be styled
the first Crystal Palace.

It was just at this time that the word had gone out over all the earth
that its nations were invited to a great World's Fair at London. And now
a very serious question came up about the building in which to house
them. The committee, of course, decided on a structure of orthodox brick
and mortar, and then began a fierce war in the papers with regard to the
project. How would their beautiful Hyde Park be spoiled by letting loose
in it such an army of shovellers, bricklayers, hewers, and all manner of
craftsmen! What a spoiling of its ornamental trees, and what a cutting
up of its smooth drives by the heavy carts loaded with brick and mortar
enough to build a pyramid!

Mr. Paxton read in the _Times_ these many objections, and the thought
flashed through his mind that they could all be removed by building on
the plan of his lily-house. A succession of such structures enlarged and
securely joined together would produce just such a building as was
wanted. All could be prepared in the great workshops of the kingdom, and
brought together with almost as little noise and confusion as was
Solomon's great Temple.

The building committee were hard to convince. They were joined to their
idols of brick and mortar. But good Prince Albert, and Sir Robert Peel,
and Mr. Stephenson, the engineer, were all on the side of iron and
glass, and at last they won.

Such a beautiful fairy-like structure as went up, almost like Aladdin's
palace, by New-Year's Day, 1851, the world had never seen. The great
lily had, all unconsciously, accomplished a wonderful work. Over and
over again has its crystal house been copied, and not the least
beautiful of such structures is our own grand Centennial Main Building.




THE MISHAPS OF AN ARAB GENTLEMAN.


The Orientals differ in many respects from the Europeans and Americans
in their customs and manners, their dress, and the furniture of their
houses. The dress of the men consists of a red cap, wide baggy cloth
trousers, silken girdle, and a jacket. The houses in Syria are
invariably built of stone, and in the south of Palestine entirely so.
The floors of the rooms are paved with marble or granite. At the
entrance of every room is a space of several feet square, paved with
figured marble, and never carpeted, generally used as a receptacle for
shoes and slippers, which the Orientals remove from their feet on
entering a room. The rest of the floor is raised about half a foot
higher. The Orientals sleep on the ground, _i. e._, on mattresses laid
on carpets, or mats spread on the floor.

In an Arab family one of the members became ambitious of transforming
himself into a European. This young gentleman had received an excellent
education, being familiar not only with the Arab literature, but master
of the ancient and modern Greek.

His first step toward the desired end was to study English and French.
When he had gained a fair knowledge of these languages, he applied for
the position of interpreter to the American consulate, to which he
succeeded in being appointed.

His so-far satisfied ambition would no longer allow him to wear the
Oriental dress, and he soon showed himself to an admiring world of
natives in European costume. One day he was asked how he liked his new
costume.

"Not at all," he replied. "I feel as if tied hand and foot in a
tight-fitting prison."

A few weeks later he one day startled some of his European friends by
asking them, with a thoughtful seriousness, whether they often tumbled
out of bed.

"Tumble out of bed!" they exclaimed. "Why, of course not. How could
one?"

"I would much rather find out how a person could not," was his reply.

He was asked what put such an idea into his head.

The rest is best told in his own words.

"I furnished my rooms with European furniture. Bad luck to the day I was
foolish enough to do so! A few nights ago, after having locked my door
and put out my light--things I never did before--I got up into the
bedstead. My sensations were those of being put away on a high shelf in
a dark prison. I wondered whether Europeans experienced such feelings
every night. Finally I fell asleep, comforting myself that I might get
used to it. How long I slept in that bed I shall never know, for when I
awoke, it was to find myself in the grave. I was cramped in every limb;
I felt the cold pavement under me, and icy walls round me. For clothing
or covering I found nothing within reach but what at the time seemed a
shroud. Where was I? What had happened? Suddenly the idea came to me
that I must have fainted, been mistaken for dead, buried, and now
recovered consciousness in my grave. So convinced was I, that I shouted
at the top of my voice that I was not dead, and begged to be taken out
of the tomb. The noise I made soon awoke the whole house, and as I had
locked my door, no one could get in. I heard my mother and brothers
uttering pious ejaculations to exorcise the evil spirit which they
believed had got hold of me, while I trebled my frantic yells for
deliverance. By vigorously shaking the door, they finally burst it open,
and then I was surprised to see that I was not in my grave, but that I
had tumbled out of bed, and rolled along the floor till I landed in the
space by the door."

"But did you not wake with the fall?"

"No; I felt nothing till I awoke, as I believed, in my tomb, but really
in the shoe receptacle; and since you all assure me that Europeans never
tumble out of their beds, I resign all hopes of ever being transformed
into one. I shall in the future, as I have done in the past, sleep on
the ground, from which there is no danger of tumbling."




THE HIPPOPOTAMUS.


The hippopotamus, or river-horse, is found exclusively in the great
rivers, lakes, and swamps of Africa. Fossil remains of extinct species
have been discovered in both Europe and Asia, but ages have passed since
they existed. This animal is amphibious, and can remain under water five
minutes or more without breathing. When it comes to the surface it
snorts in a terrible manner, and can be heard at a great distance. It is
never found far away from its native element, to which it beats a
retreat at the least alarm. Travellers along the White Nile and in
Central Africa often encounter enormous herds of these ungainly
creatures sometimes lying in the water, their huge heads projecting like
the summit of a rock, sometimes basking on the shore in the muddy ooze,
or grazing on the river-bank; for this animal is a strict vegetarian,
and the broad fields of grain and rice along the Upper Nile suffer
constantly from its depredations.

The hippopotamus is a hideous-looking beast. It has an enormous mouth,
armed with four great tusks that appear viciously prominent beneath its
great leathern lips. These tusks are so powerful that a hippopotamus has
been known to cut holes through the iron plates of a Nile steamer with
one blow. Its eyes are very small, but protruding, and placed on the top
of its head. Its body resembles a huge hogshead perched on four short,
stumpy legs. A full-grown animal will sometimes measure twelve feet in
length and as much in circumference. The hide of this beast is very
thick and strong, and is used to make whips. Ordinary bullets, unless
they strike near the ear, rattle off the sides of this King of the Nile
like small shot. Sir Samuel Baker, the African traveller, relates an
encounter with a large bull hippopotamus which was taking an evening
stroll on the bank of the river, quietly munching grass. Baker and his
attendant were armed only with rifles. They aimed and fired, hitting as
near the ear as possible, but the great beast only shook its head and
trotted off. At the sound of firing the remainder of the party hurried
up, and poured a volley of musketry at the retreating beast, but the
hippopotamus walked coolly to the edge of a steep cliff, about eighteen
feet high, and with a clumsy jump and a tremendous splash vanished in
the water. As the flesh of the hippopotamus, which is said to resemble
pork in flavor, was much desired as food by the soldiers under Baker's
charge, he had a small explosive shell constructed, which, fired into
the creature's brain, seldom failed to leave its huge body floating dead
on the surface of the river.

[Illustration: FIGHT WITH A HIPPOPOTAMUS.]

The natives are very fond of hippopotamus flesh, and resort to many
expedients to secure the desired delicacy. Hunting this beast is
dangerous sport, for in the water it is master of the situation, and
will throw a canoe in the air, or crunch it to pieces with its terrible
jaws. In Southern Africa, Dr. Livingstone encountered a tribe of natives
called Makombwé who were hereditary hippopotamus-hunters, and followed
no other occupation, as, when their game grew scarce at one spot, they
removed to another. They built temporary huts on the lonely grassy
islands in the rivers and great lakes, where the hippopotami were sure
to come to enjoy the luxurious pasturage, and while the women cultivated
garden patches, the men, with extraordinary courage and daring, followed
the dangerous sport which passes down among them from father to son.
When they hunt, each canoe is manned by two men. The canoes are very
light, scarcely half an inch in thickness, and shaped somewhat like a
racing boat. Each man uses a broad, short paddle, and as the canoe is
noiselessly propelled toward a sleeping hippopotamus not a ripple is
raised on the water. Not a word passes between the two hunters, but as
they silently approach the prey the harpooner rises cautiously, and with
sure aim plunges the weapon toward the monster's heart. Both hunters now
seize their paddles and push away for their lives, for the infuriated
beast springs toward them, its enormous jaws extended, and often
succeeds in crushing the frail canoe to splinters. The hunters, if
thrown in the water, immediately dive--as the beast looks for them on
the surface--and make for the shore. Their prey is soon secured, for the
well-aimed harpoon has done its work, and the hippopotamus is soon
forced to succumb. Should it be under water, its whereabouts is
indicated by a float on the end of the long harpoon rope, and it is
easily dragged ashore.

Travellers on the Nile are often placed in great peril by the attacks of
these beasts, which although said to be inoffensive when not molested,
are so easily enraged that the noise of a passing boat excites them to
terrible fury. Baker relates being roused one clear moonlight night by a
hoarse wild snorting, which he at once recognized as the voice of a
furious hippopotamus. He rushed on deck, and discovered a large specimen
of this beast charging on the boat with indescribable rage. The small
boats towed astern were crunched to pieces in a moment, and so rapid
were the movements of this animal, as it roared and plunged in a cloud
of foam and wave, that it was next to impossible to take aim at the
small vulnerable spot on its head. At length, however, it appeared to be
wounded, and retired to the high reeds along the shore. But it soon
returned, snorting and blowing more furiously than ever, and continued
its attack until its head was fairly riddled with bullets, and it rolled
over and over, dead at last.

Young hippopotami have been captured and placed in zoological gardens,
but as they become old they grow savage, and are very hard to manage.
Some fine specimens were formerly in the Jardin des Plantes at Paris.
They ate all kinds of vegetables and grass, and slept nearly all day,
generally lying half in and half out of the big water tank provided for
them.

The hippopotamus is supposed by many to be identical with the behemoth
of Scripture, which is described as a beast "that lieth under the shady
trees, in the covert of the reed and fens." It is also spoken of as one
that "eateth grass as an ox," and that "drinketh up a river," and the
"willows of the brook compass him about."




THE CAT'S-MEAT MAN.


[Illustration: PREPARING CAT'S MEAT IN FULTON MARKET.]

In one corner of Fulton Market in New York city is the snug little stall
of the cat's-meat man. He is a jolly, merry-looking fellow, as you may
see by his picture; and he sings and whistles as he works. In the
morning he goes about the streets feeding his cats; but his afternoons
are devoted to preparing their food for the next day.

Most of this food is raw meat, which, with a sharp knife, he cuts up
into very small pieces, until several hundred pounds are thus prepared.
Sometimes a small portion of the meat is boiled; but this cooked meat is
only intended for cats who are not very well, and who need something
more delicate than raw meat. Once a week--on Thursdays--the cat's-meat
man cuts up fish instead of meat; for on Fridays all his cats have a
meal of fish, of which they are very fond, and which is very good for
them.

After the meat or fish has been nicely cut into bits, it is all done up
in small brown-paper parcels, each of which weighs a pound; and these
parcels are packed into great strong baskets. Each basket holds forty
or fifty of these pound packages, and is pretty heavy for the cat's-meat
man to carry.

[Illustration: STARTING OUT]

Bright and early in the morning, soon after sunrise, the cat's-meat man
begins to feed his cats, starting out from the market with a big basket
of meat on his shoulder, and threading his way through the crooked
streets and lanes of the lower part of the city to the homes of his
little customers.

[Illustration: SOME DOWN-TOWN CATS.]

Everywhere the cats and kittens are anxiously waiting and watching for
him, and sometimes they run out and meet him at the corners half a block
or more away from their homes. Often when he is feeding the cats on one
side of the street, those living on the other side run across, and
rubbing against his legs, mewing and purring, seem to beg him to hurry
and get over to their side. Of course these cats do not belong to the
cat's-meat man, though he takes just as much interest in them, and is
just as fond of them, as though they were his own. They are the cats
that live in the stores and warehouses of the lower portion of the city,
where they are kept as a protection against the armies of fierce rats
that come up from the wharves, and do terrible damage wherever the cats
are not too strong for them. For this reason the cats are highly prized
and well cared for in this part of the city, and the cat's-meat man
finds plenty of work to do in feeding them. He is paid for this by the
owners of the cats, and as he has about four hundred customers his
business is quite a thriving one.

[Illustration: THE MORNING CALL.]

The cats all know and love him, and are generally expecting him; but if
he opens the door of a store where one of his cats lives, and she is not
to be seen, he calls "Pss-pss-pss," and the kitty comes racing down
stairs, or from some distant corner, so fast that she nearly tumbles
head over heels in her hurry to get at her breakfast.

Some of the cats are only fed every other day, and they know just as
well as anybody when it is "off day," as the cat's-meat man calls it. On
these off days they lie perfectly still as he passes, paying no
attention to him; but on the days they are to be fed, these
"every-other-day cats" are the most eager of all, and travel the
greatest distances to meet their friend.

[Illustration: CARLO.]

Besides the cats, several dogs are fed daily by the cat's-meat man, and
of these the most interesting is Carlo. Carlo used to be a sailor dog,
but now he lives quietly in a store on Old Slip. His first master was a
sea-captain, with whom Carlo made voyages to many different parts of the
world. At last his kind master, who was as fond of Carlo as though he
had been an only child, became very sick with a terrible fever, and when
his ship reached New York, he was taken to a hospital to die. Carlo went
to the hospital with him, and just before the dying sailor breathed his
last, he begged a kind gentleman who stood beside his bed to take care
of Carlo. The gentleman promised to do so, and has ever since kept his
promise by giving Carlo a good home in his store, and paying the
cat's-meat man to feed him every day. Carlo repays this kindness by
keeping the store free from rats, and his reputation as a famous ratter
has spread far and wide through the neighborhood.

[Illustration: A CHARITY CAT.]

Many stray cats watch for the coming of the cat's-meat man, for they
know that he will befriend them, and many a tidbit does he give to some
lean hungry creature as he merrily trudges along through the winter
snow-drifts.

At certain corners the cat's-meat man is met by one of his assistants,
with whom he exchanges his empty basket for a full one. These
halting-places are well known to all the forlorn and homeless cats and
dogs, and at them a number of these always await his approach. He most
always throws them a few bits from his well-filled basket, for which
they seem very grateful, though they look as if they would be very glad
of more.

Besides feeding cats and dogs, the cat's-meat man cares for them when
they are sick, preparing special food for his patients, and sometimes
giving them small doses of medicine. So, you see, the cat's-meat man is
a real benefactor, and it is no wonder that all the cats and dogs in the
lower part of the city watch for his coming, and are glad when they see
him.




MY TARTAR.

BY DAVID KER.


Most of us have read descriptions and seen pictures of those sallow,
flat-faced, narrow-eyed, round-headed hobgoblins who, under the name of
Tartars (a wrong one, too, for it should be Tatâré), used to amuse
themselves by conquering Eastern Europe every now and then some hundreds
of years ago. But it is not every one who has had the pleasure of
travelling alone with one of these fellows over nearly a thousand miles
of Asiatic desert in time of war--a pleasure which I enjoyed to the full
in 1873.

And a very queer journey it was. First came a range of steep rocky hills
(marked on the map as the Ural Mountains), where we had to get out and
walk whenever we went up hill, and to hold tight to the sides of our
wagon, for fear of being thrown out and smashed, whenever we went down
hill. Then we got out on the great plains, where we came upon a
post-house of dried mud (the only house there was) once in three or four
hours; and here we used to change horses by sending out a Cossack with
his lasso to see if he could catch any running loose on the prairie; for
there are no stables in that country.

Next came a sand desert, where we harnessed three camels to our wagon
instead of horses. Here the people lived in tents instead of mud houses,
while a hot wind blew all day, and a cold wind all night. One fine
evening we had a sand-storm, which almost buried us, wagon and all; and
the sand stuck so to my Tartar's yellow face that he looked just like a
peppered omelet.

After this came a "rolling prairie," where the people lived in holes
under the ground, popping up like rabbits every now and then as we
passed. Beyond it was a large fresh-water lake (called by the Russians
"Aralskoë Moré," or Sea of Aral), where the mosquitoes fell upon us in
good earnest. Here we were both boxed up in a mud fort for seven weeks
by a Cossack captain, on suspicion of being spies, like Joseph's
brethren. When we got out again, we had to go up a great river (called
the Syr-Daria, or _Clear_ Stream, though it was the dirtiest I ever
saw), fringed with thickets, and huge reeds taller than a man, where the
mosquitoes were doubled, and we had the chance of meeting a tiger or two
as well. Then came some more deserts, and then some more mountains; and
so at last we got to the capital of the country--a big mud-walled town
called Tashkent, or Stone Village--I suppose because there is not a
single stone within twenty miles of it.

All this while, Murad (for so my Tartar was named) had been like a man
of stone. He never complained; he never smiled; he never got angry. When
our food and water ran out; when the sand-flies and mosquitoes bit us
all over; when we lost our way on the prairie at midnight in a pouring
rain; when the jolting of our wagon bumped us about till we were all
bruises from head to foot; when we had to sit for hours upon a sand-heap
waiting for horses, with the sun toasting us black all the time; when
our wheels came off, or our camels ran away--honest Murad's heavy,
mustard-colored face never changed a whit. At every fresh mishap he only
shrugged his shoulders, saying, "It is my _kismet_" (fate); and when he
had said that, he seemed quite satisfied. I never even saw him laugh but
_once_. That once, however, I had good reason to remember; and this was
how it happened.

On getting to Tashkent we took up our quarters at a native hotel
(_caravanserai_ they call it there), where we were kindly allowed a
stone floor to sleep on, provided we brought our own beds and our own
food along with us. However, we were pretty well used to that sort of
thing by this time; so I got out my camp-kettle, and proceeded to make
tea, while Murad, like Mother Hubbard in the song,

  "Went to the baker's to buy him some bread."

By this time our daily mess of food had become a _mess_ in every sense.
Bumped and jolted about as we had been, it was no uncommon thing for me
to find my bottle of cold tea standing on its head with the cork out, my
soda powders fraternizing with the salt and pepper, and my brown loaf
taking a bath in the contents of a broken ink-bottle, the splinters of
which would be acting as seasoning to the mashed remains of a Bologna
sausage. I was not surprised, therefore, to discover a piece of
chocolate half buried in my last packet of tea, and by way of experiment
I decided to boil the two together, and try how they agreed.

But apparently they didn't agree at all, for I had hardly taken a sip of
my first tumbler[1] when I became aware of the most horrible and
astounding taste imaginable, as if a whole apothecary's shop had been
boiled down into that one glass. The second tumbler was, if possible,
even worse than the first; but this time I noticed a white froth on the
top, such as I had never seen upon any tea before. A frightful suspicion
suddenly occurred to me. I emptied out my camp-kettle, and
discovered--with what emotion I need not say--that the supposed
chocolate was nothing less than a piece of brown _soap_!

Just at that eventful moment in came my Tartar. One glance at the soap,
my distorted visage, and the froth in the glass, told him the whole
story; and the effect was magical. To throw himself on the floor, to
kick up his heels in a kind of convulsive ecstasy, to burst into a
succession of shrill, crowing screams, like a pleased baby, was the work
of a moment; and he kept on kicking and crowing, till, provoked as I
was, I could not help laughing along with him. Then he suddenly sprang
up and stood before me with his usual solemn face, as if it were
somebody else who had been doing all this, and _he_ were utterly shocked
at him. But he never afterward alluded to the occurrence, nor did I ever
again see him laugh, or even smile.

FOOTNOTES:

1 The Russians drink tea in tumblers, with lemon-juice instead of milk.




[Begun in No. 17 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, February 24.]

BIDDY O'DOLAN.

BY MRS. ZADEL B. GUSTAFSON.


CHAPTER IV.

Little Katy Kegan had the blackest hair and eyes you ever saw, and she
was very pretty, with color like the cream and red of the lady-apples
packed in tempting pyramids in the fruit stalls. She was the kind of
girl who keeps you always expecting, without your knowing what it is you
expect. Katy was very bright, quick as a dart in her motions, but as
rough and sharp as a prickly-brier if things didn't go to suit her. She
had all the bad habits which friendless little children learn from
living on the streets, with no one to care what they do or how they
feel. She was saucy and bold, and used very bad words, and thought it
smart to steal fruit and pea-nuts when she could; and she would tell a
lie about her thefts, or indeed about anything else, as glibly as a toad
swallows a fly. If you ever saw that done, you know that it is pretty
swiftly done; and just as a toad, when it has swallowed a fly, looks as
if it had never so much as heard of such an insect, so Katy, when she
told a lie, would look straight at you, and smile with an air of such
innocence that you would find it hard to not believe her. These sad
faults were Katy's misfortunes. She did not know how wrong they were.

But you can see, if you think a moment, that such habits would be a
great trouble in the way of her finding a home, because good people
would not like to take a little child with such naughty ways into their
homes, to be with their own dear children. Still, Katy's pretty face and
bright mind, and the love she was so quick to give to any one who was
kind to her, made people feel like trying to see what they could do for
her.

Three times Mr. Kennedy placed Katy in good homes, in the care of noble
people, who wished to help him in such work. In each instance Katy had
been loved, because she was so bright and sweet and lovable when she
felt like being so; but her sudden fits of anger, and the strange and
naughty things she would say and do, made her new friends feel anxious
and troubled. Yet Katy had never been sent away from these homes.
Perhaps she might have been, but she never waited for that; she ran away
of her own accord each time, without saying a word about it, and nothing
that Biddy or Mr. Kennedy could say could make Katy agree to go back
when once she had run away.

One day Miss Kennedy, who had thought a great deal about this willful
child, said to her brother, "Don't be discouraged about Katy; you and
Biddy will save the dear little thing yet."

"But I do feel a little discouraged," said Mr. Kennedy. "You see, she is
so uncertain; she's tricky as a kitten, and you can never tell what
she'll be at next. If the trouble only all came to us, you know, we
would be glad to bear it, for there is something very dear about little
Katy that pays for care and bother. But how can I go on asking our
friends to put up with such a little harum-scarum? And she _will_ take
things that don't belong to her, and she will deny it. I really don't
know what to do."

Biddy sat sewing, but she listened, and looked very earnest. Miss
Kennedy smiled.

"I've thought of something, Phil," said she. "I think we have been
making a mistake all along in fixing things too easy and pleasant for
Katy. I think she needs to have a weight put on her."

"A weight? How do you mean?"

"Well, I mean this. Katy is very loving, and she is more full of active,
bounding life than any one I ever saw. I don't think she wants to have
things done for her; I think she wants to do things herself. I think she
needs to feel that some one, in some real plain way, depends on her,
needs her, so that she can not do without her. I have seen feelings in
Katy that make me think a weight of this kind would hold her."

Mr. Kennedy looked pleased, and sat some moments thinking. Then he
asked: "Well, sister, how will you find such a weight for Katy? I
wouldn't like to have her bright wings too closely clipped."

"I've thought of that, Phil, and I've thought it would be well to let
Biddy--Katy loves Biddy with all her warm little heart--to let Biddy
coax her to go to Mrs. Raynor."

"Mrs. Raynor!" cried Phil.

"I know you are thinking of such a madcap as Katy in Jenny Baynor's
sick-room. But that is just my reason. I've talked with Mrs. Raynor, and
she is quite willing to try Katy, if we can only get her there to be
tried. If there's any one in this world who can tame Katy's wild humors
and turn them to good uses, it is Mrs. Raynor. And Jenny needs some one
to care for her all the time. Katy can not help loving them, and between
them I think they will find a way to hold Katy till she grows to see
what a little girl's life means."

The very next day Biddy went out to look for wayward Katy, for it was
Katy's having run away again from her third home which had led to this
talk between Mr. Kennedy and his sister. Biddy found Katy sitting on
some steps on Fulton Street, eating pea-nuts, and tossing up the shells.
She looked so happy that Biddy felt a new wonder about her. She
remembered how she had longed for a home, and here was Katy liking
nothing so well as to run about the streets, and seeming to think home
was a great bother. Suddenly a thought came to Biddy, and made her say,
quickly, as she reached Katy, "Oh, Katy, did you ever have a doll?"

"Hallo! that you?" said Katy. "Want some pea-nuts? No, I never had no
dawl--don't want no dawl--seen lots of 'em--think they're silly. Dawls
is only pretendin'--Hallo! catch 'em;" and she tossed a handful of
pea-nuts to Biddy.

[Illustration: "BIDDY SAT DOWN ON THE STEPS BY KATY."]

Biddy sat down on the steps by Katy, and told her as kindly as she could
that she wanted her to try once more to like a good home. She held a bit
of Katy's skirt in her hand, for fear Katy would run; but she did not
think Katy knew she had hold of her dress, till Katy said, "No need to
hold on to me--ain't goin' to run."

"Oh, Katy, what have you done with your pretty shoes?" exclaimed Biddy.

"Guv 'em to gal 'at wanted 'em--likes to go barefoot," said Katy,
promptly; then she turned her black eyes on Biddy with a queer, sharp
look, and said, "Needn't ask no more queshshuns--sha'n't answer."

After a little more talk, in which Katy insisted that she didn't think
she could stay in a home, though she was willin' to try, 'cause she
liked to see insides of houses, they started off together.

The Raynors lived in a larger and more beautiful house than the
Kennedys, and a well-behaved maid showed the children into a room which
was so dark that Biddy and Katy could hardly see anything at first.
Biddy felt Katy twitch at her hand as if she would dart off and rush out
into the merry sunlight again. All the way up stairs Katy had been
making droll faces at the maid, who went on before them, and mimicking
her walk in the funniest manner. Biddy had not seemed to notice, though
she had found it hard not to laugh right out at Katy's mischief. Now
Biddy held fast to the little hand that wriggled in hers, and as their
eyes grew used to the dimness, they saw a large bed with folds of lace
hanging around, but drawn away at the sides, and in this bed lay the
whitest little girl they had ever seen, with soft eyes looking at them
kindly, and close to them was a tall, handsome lady. But what ailed
Biddy?

She looked at the white-faced child in the bed, and she looked at the
lady. A flush came in Biddy's cheek, and her eyes opened so wide they
were almost as round as marbles. It was the most puzzled little face
Mrs. Raynor had ever seen.

"I expected you, and I'm very glad to see you," said she.

In an instant Biddy turned and threw her arms around Katy, who stared,
and looked as if she would "cut," as she called it when she ran away.

"Oh, Katy! Katy!" said Biddy, with a queer little quick shake in her
voice, "it's the hospital lady, and the hospital little girl that gave
me the flowers!" Jenny Raynor's eyes were getting to be as round as
Biddy's had been. "Oh, don't you remember the little bit of a girl that
was run over, and lay in the hospital on Christmas-day, ever and ever so
long ago?" cried Biddy.

Biddy stopped, as had always been her way when feeling became very
strong. Mrs. Raynor made her sit down by the bed, and then put out her
hand to Katy, who stood so still in the centre of the room. All the
bright color had gone out of Katy's cheeks, so that her black eyes
looked darker than ever. She staid just where she was, she put her hands
down in her apron pockets, raising her small shoulders in doing so. She
was the picture of a little elf that might vanish if any one stirred.
She looked at Biddy, and said, "Is that gal in the bed the hospital gal
what guv ye the flowers?"

Biddy said, "Yes."

"What's matter of 'er?"

"She has been sick a long time," said Mrs. Raynor.

"Stay in bed all time?" asked Katy, still looking at Biddy.

"Oh yes; I shall never get up any more," said Jenny Raynor. "Will you
come up here, close to me, little girl?" Katy came forward a little.
"Miss Kennedy says you like to run about a great deal," said Jenny; "I
used to like that very much."

Katy came close to the bed. She took her hands out of her pockets; they
were full of pea-nuts. She laid them on the bed, and nodded to Biddy.
"I'll stay here," said she.

And Katy Kegan kept her word. She didn't get over her faults right off.
She had a hard fight with them; but for the first time in her life she
tried hard to get rid of them, and soon showed she had great strength to
do what she had made up her mind to do.

But Miss Kennedy was right. All Katy had needed was to _be needed_. This
was her "weight."

She was the very best thing that could have been brought into Jenny
Raynor's sad and shut-up life. Jenny was a good little girl, but no
little child can be easily content and cheerful who can not go out into
the sunlight, and enjoy the sweet full life of the birds and flowers,
and the merry games with other little girls and boys. It is very hard
for a child to lie always in bed, and be shut out from all other
children's lives. Now Katy Kegan was so wild, so merry, so constantly
full and running over with bright ideas of how to get fun out of
everything and anything, that she was a whole play-ground in her one
little self; and she brought all this life into the room where Jenny
lay, and made a new world for Jenny there. Katy was as good as a
theatre, for she imitated people, and did it quite wonderfully, so that
Jenny could tell just whom she meant; that is, if she had ever seen the
person Katy was taking off. And Katy would show her all that she had
seen or noticed on the street, in just this way by imitating, so that
Jenny seemed almost to make new acquaintances with people whom she had
never really seen, by means of Katy's droll mimicry. When Katy saw how
all her pranks and fun made Jenny laugh and look so pleased, she took
good care to find out some fresh thing to amuse her with whenever she
went out.

When Jenny Raynor gave the flowers to poor Biddy in the hospital so long
ago, she could not know that the little kindness would come back to her
a thousandfold through another little girl whom she had then never seen
at all.

Least of all would you imagine that an old broken-armed doll fished out
of an ash-can could be the means of doing so much good, and leading to
so much happiness in so many lives. For the good that began in these
little things goes on, and may reach into countless lives in time to
come. Nothing stops, and nothing stands quite apart by itself from other
things. You will find this out, and think of it more and more, as you
grow older. As for Biddy O'Dolan, she is quite a young woman now. Of
course she does not play with her doll any more. But she keeps it. No
money could buy it, with that little wooden arm on it which Charley
made. She calls it her first friend, and I think it was a very good
friend, don't you?

THE END.




[Illustration]

ALICE'S QUESTION.


  Softly, gently upward
    A strain from the organ floats,
  And the children at play in the nursery
    Listen awhile to the notes,

  Stop, and are silent a moment--
    They are almost tired of play,
  And the shadows of evening are falling,
    Making twilight out of the day.

  Then down the broad old staircase
    Comes the patter of little feet,
  And in through the open doorway,
    Drawn by the sounds so sweet.

  Then close to the organ stealing,
    With awe-struck eyes they gaze
  At the player, and listen mutely
    To the deep clear notes of praise.

  Then drawing nearer and nearer,
    Made bold by the twilight gray,
  Little Alice looks up, and whispers,
    "Did God teach you how to play?"




THE CARE OF PARROTS.


Parrots are among the most intelligent of household pets, and much
attention should be bestowed upon them. So large a bird suffers if kept
constantly confined in a cage, but a parrot is so destructive that it is
impossible to allow it the liberty of a house, as chairs, carpets, in
short, every article of furniture, will soon show the marks of its
strong beak. If there is a garden, the parrot should be given a daily
promenade during warm weather. It is a necessity to this bird to
exercise its beak, and if kept in a cage, it should often be given a
chip of wood to tear to pieces. A parrot will amuse itself for hours
biting a chip into small fragments. The cage and feed dishes should be
thoroughly cleaned every day, and fresh gravel kept in the bottom of the
cage.

Parrots are fond of canary and hemp seed, and should always have fresh
water, in which a little cracker may be soaked. A little sweetened weak
coffee and milk, with bread crumbed in it, may be given about once a
week. Apples, pears, and oranges are healthy food, and should always
have the seeds left in, as a parrot will eat those first, carefully
peeling them, and devour the meat afterward. A slice of lemon and a
small red pepper should be given occasionally, also English walnuts.

Cleanliness is essential to the health of a parrot, and as it will not
bathe itself like most other birds, it should occasionally be stood in a
pan containing an inch or two of tepid water, and its back sprinkled
gently. The bird will scream and rebel, but will feel better after it.
It should be left in its bath for a few moments only (as it easily gets
chilled), and then placed on its perch, where it can not feel any wind,
to dry and plume itself. During a warm summer shower it is well to stand
the cage out-of-doors for a short time. The parrot will usually spread
its wings to receive the drops, and scream with delight, as that is its
natural way of bathing. Parrots have very tender feet, and they often
suffer if their claws are not kept perfectly clean. The perch should on
this account be wiped dry every day. Meat, or anything greasy, is
harmful to a parrot, and parsley will kill it, although lettuce, and
especially green peas in the pod, are healthy diet.

Parrots are almost always savage to strangers, but so affectionate to
the person who tends them that they fully repay for the care bestowed
upon them.




PENCIL DRAWING, No. 2.


[Illustration]

Simple as it may seem to draw _leaves_, there must be care, and
patience, and faithful effort. After a while, the young student who
_succeeds_ will go on to _flower_ drawing, which is more difficult, but
very delightful, and will be illustrated by-and-by.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

At present we must try _easy leaves_. I make a few illustrations, enough
to begin with. Nos. 1, 2, and 3 are fuchsia leaves; No. 4, oxalis. These
may be drawn again and again. A whole page of fuchsia leaves of
different sizes is very pretty, and so of any leaf. By a skillful hand
they may be arranged with artistic grace.

[Illustration]

Attention to a few points will give a precision and interest to the
drawing. Let the drawing be _lightly_ rather than heavily done. Learn to
draw the _double lines_ of _stems_ and _veins_ with great correctness.
Make a darker line on the under edge of leaves, and on one side of the
stems. By turning the leaf on the wrong side the veins can be distinctly
seen, and easily drawn. Do not be discouraged, but _persevere_. Begin
to-morrow, or to-day: these beginnings may help you to become a skillful
sketcher, and will give to you a delightful occupation that will grow
dearer to your heart every day of your life.




[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]


This number of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE completes the thirteen issues
promised to subscribers to HARPER'S WEEKLY for 1880, and is therefore
the last number to be sent out with that paper. Any one of our little
friends who may thus be deprived of a weekly visit from HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE, and who wishes to continue acquaintance with us, may receive the
remaining thirty-two numbers of our first volume, which will conclude
with the number dated October 26, 1880, by sending One Dollar to the
publishers, who will, on receipt of that amount, forward these numbers
weekly, postage free, to any address in the United States or Canada.
Those who wish the back numbers, as well as the remainder of the volume,
should send One Dollar and Fifty Cents, the price of a year's
subscription. The publishers renew their assurance that they will make
every effort to please their young patrons by providing weekly an
attractive and instructive variety of illustrated reading.

       *       *       *       *       *

  LOCKPORT, ILLINOIS.

     I saw in YOUNG PEOPLE a letter from Edwin A. H., telling about his
     cabinet. Although I have been collecting only three years I have
     quite a cabinet. It contains a sea-cow, which measures fourteen
     inches from the tip of its tail to the nose. It is larger than any
     I have ever seen either in Chicago, New York, or Canada. That and
     a sea-horse came from Cuba. I have also some fine specimens of
     different corals and sponges; a box of agates and other stones
     from Africa; some beautiful specimens of quartz from the Rocky
     Mountains; a specimen from the Matanzas Cave in Cuba; a collection
     of Indian arrow-heads; a variety of petrifactions, among them a
     very large, perfect trilobite; a few very old coins, four of
     which, I think, are from Pompeii; a collection of foreign stamps;
     shells from California, Cuba, and other places; and other things I
     have no room to mention. Can any one tell me how I can obtain some
     really good specimens of minerals? And is the whale that arrived
     at the New York Aquarium last summer alive yet?

  L. H. N.

Are any correspondents informed about the health and present condition
of the whale?

       *       *       *       *       *

  TALLAHASSEE, FLORIDA.

     I write to tell you about my collection of minerals. I am now ten
     years old. I commenced to collect when I was nine. My minerals are
     very fine, and I took the three-dollar premium for them at the
     fair.

  WILLIAM L. BETTON.

       *       *       *       *       *

  CINCINNATI, OHIO.

     I am a little girl thirteen years old. I live in Ann Arbor,
     Michigan, but I am spending the winter in Cincinnati. I take YOUNG
     PEOPLE, and like it very much. I am collecting curiosities, but I
     have no Proteus.

  GRACE D. HALL.

       *       *       *       *       *

  MACON, GEORGIA.

     I will write and tell you what a warm winter we have had. There
     were strawberries and peach blossoms in January, and now we have
     many kinds of flowers blooming in the gardens. I am writing St.
     Valentine's Day, and I and my two sisters, Bessie and Kate, have
     had several pretty valentines.

  LAURA C. PARMELEE (9 years).

       *       *       *       *       *

  "BAY CLIFF," LONG ISLAND.

     I am a little boy ten years old, and live by the water. I have a
     nice little row-boat named _Broadbill_, with patent oars. I have a
     Shetland pony named Fanny. She is about three feet high, and is
     very kind and gentle, and I can ride or drive her. My guinea-pig
     is also a pet. I feed it cabbage leaves, carrots, boiled potatoes,
     and lettuce.

  E. T. I.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

     My most cunning pet is a guinea-pig named Tip, who creeps under my
     arm and goes to sleep. I put cabbage and celery in a train of cars
     and run across the floor; Tip gallops after and steals the leaves,
     stops to munch them, and then races for more.

  ARTHUR A. CRANDELL.

       *       *       *       *       *

  MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN.

     I have had experience with guinea-pigs, and I thought I would tell
     Mark Francis what mine eat. They like all kinds of green
     vegetables, such as lettuce and cabbage, but they like grass
     better than anything else; I can not give them enough. The only
     cooked food they like is Graham bread and oatmeal mush. Sometimes
     they eat oats and apples. My auntie has kept them for fifteen
     years, and she never gave them any water. She says if they want
     water, they are sick. They are always very sensitive to the cold.

  GRACE B. PETERSON.

       *       *       *       *       *

  NEW YORK CITY.

     I have been reading all the letters from little girls and boys
     about their pets, and I must tell them about mine. I have a little
     kitten named "Buttercup," and she is just as sweet and pretty as
     any buttercup that ever grew, and so good and so cunning. She will
     jump upon the bureau and watch the canary, and he will peck at her
     with his little bill, and she does not even look cross at him, and
     we know she would not ruffle a feather for all the world. I wonder
     if any other little girl can leave her kitten with her birds, and
     know she will not hurt them? And you should see her go to the
     mirror and look at herself--just like any lady--and she seems to
     think herself so pretty, I am really afraid she is vain. There are
     so many other things I could tell about her, but mamma says you
     will not print my letter if I write any more.

  ELLA SELWYN.

       *       *       *       *       *

  BRADLEY, MICHIGAN, _February 18_.

     I found a willow bush covered with "pussies" yesterday. The
     rabbits never run up to me when I whistle, like the one Laura B.
     wrote about. They stop and turn around and look at me, and then
     they just snap their eyes and scoot.

  FRANK C. NOURSE.

       *       *       *       *       *

     I am only seven years old, and I live way out in Fort Klamath,
     Oregon, and I can't write a very good letter, but I like the
     stories in YOUNG PEOPLE, and the letters in the Post-office from
     little children so much. It is nice to be out here where there is
     so much snow to have fun with. I have a pair of snow-shoes, a
     little brother, and a pet dog to play with, besides lots of other
     things. I don't go to school, because there is no school here, but
     I say my lessons to mamma every day.

  SOPHIE L. W.

       *       *       *       *       *

  DAVENPORT, IOWA.

     I am going to write this all myself. I have a pony. His name is
     Dick. We all love him dearly. He shakes hands. We say, "Shake
     hands, Dick," and he puts up his right foot. He is just as sweet
     as honey. He is white. We used to live on a farm, and my sister
     and I used to go after the cows on Dick. We carried a long whip.
     Some cows would lag behind, and we would say, "Bite the cow,
     Dick," and the dear little fellow would lay back his white ears
     and just bite her awful hard. We are going to have a cabinet
     picture taken of him.

  GRACE H. (9 years).

       *       *       *       *       *

  SCHENECTADY, NEW YORK.

     I am five years old. I have a blue terrier--Wax. He plays
     hide-and-seek. Mamma covers his eyes with her hand, and I hide.
     When I say, "Coop," mamma lets him go. Then he rushes all round,
     standing on his hind-legs to look on tables, and peeping under the
     couch, and looking upon chairs. When he finds me, he begins to
     bark loud, and tries to bite my toes, but he has very few teeth.
     He is old.

  ROGER GRISWOLD PERKINS.

       *       *       *       *       *

  ALBANY, NEW YORK.

     I am a boy who have recently come to the city from the country. I
     have a young Skye-terrier, and he gives me much trouble by running
     away every time the hall door is opened. Then I have to run after
     him. As he can run the fastest, it is hard work for me, but fun
     for him. People must think I have two dogs, for when he goes out
     he is a blue dog, and when he comes back he is mud-color. When we
     give him a good washing, he is blue again. He likes to play, and I
     would be lonesome without him.

  DWIGHT RUGGLES.

       *       *       *       *       *

  PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

     I saw in the Post-office letters one from a little boy who had two
     Maltese cats, and one of them was very fond of pea-nuts. I had a
     beautiful black and white kitty, in Centennial year, that would
     follow me round whenever I came from the Exhibition, begging for
     the sugared balls of pop-corn I always brought home with me. I had
     another kitty afterward that was just as fond of candy. They are
     both dead now, and I have no pets. I am nine years old.

  FLORENCE OZIAS.

       *       *       *       *       *

C. H. WILLIAMSON.--All of Jacob Abbott's books for the young are in
print. Valuable works on Long Island history have been published by the
Long Island Historical Society of Brooklyn. Hitchcock's _Geology_ and
Gray's _Lessons in Botany_ will be of service to you.

       *       *       *       *       *

C. F. ALLEN.--Danger Island is in the Chagos Archipelago, on the west
end of the great Chagos Bank, Indian Ocean.

       *       *       *       *       *

Here is a very pretty experiment, sent by F. V. G., Madison, Wisconsin:
"Take an ordinary water-pail. Lay across the top two pieces of stout
wire, about two inches apart. Then lay a lump of ice on the wires. In
about half an hour go and look at it, and you will find that the wires
pass through the middle of the lump of ice, but you can not see how they
came there."

       *       *       *       *       *

The following tribute to the egg tombola is from Ella W.:

  From an egg, shot, and tallow, with care,
  A merry tombola I soon did prepare;
  I brushed up his locks in a very fine way,
  And dressed him in garments of nice sober gray;
  And when he was ready all came to admire,
  So portly was he that I called him the Squire.

  I then laid him down to measure, and see
  Whether standing or lying the tallest he'd be;
  When he lifted himself with a nod and a bound,
  Rocked backward and forward and balanced around.
  The giddy tombola! he will not lie down;
  It's useless to urge such a funny old clown.

       *       *       *       *       *

MADISON COOPER.--The direction given to Charley D. M., in YOUNG PEOPLE
No. 18, will probably apply to your fish.

       *       *       *       *       *

ELLA FULLER and HELEN THOMPSON.--We fear there is no remedy for your
unfortunate animals.

       *       *       *       *       *

HENRY B. H.--Excellent directions for the construction of a cheap
telescope are given in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 1.

       *       *       *       *       *

CHARLES CONNER.--We can not undertake any such commissions.

       *       *       *       *       *

J. R. FOSTER.--Pages of advertisements are almost always given in weekly
papers. You will find them in every bound volume of HARPER'S WEEKLY, and
similar publications.

       *       *       *       *       *

"NORTH STAR."--You understand the art of making puzzles, but you must be
more careful with your spelling. There is only one "e" in cathedral.

       *       *       *       *       *

ALBERT MULLEN.--Box-wood only is used by engravers on wood, as it has a
fine grain and the requisite hardness. It can be got out in small pieces
only, and these are either glued or screwed together to form large
blocks. When a picture is to be engraved in haste, the block is taken
apart and the pieces are given to several engravers, in order to save
time. Sometimes thirty or more engravers are employed at once on a
single block.

       *       *       *       *       *

LEONARD S. E.--If you send four cents in postage stamps to the
publishers the number you require will be forwarded to you.

       *       *       *       *       *

A. H. ELLARD.--Your handwriting is very neat and distinct for a boy of
your age. In a Numerical Charade each figure represents a letter of the
solution. Supposing the answer to be "America," you could make "car"
from the sixth, seventh, and fourth letters, and proceed in this way
until you had used every letter of the solution.

       *       *       *       *       *

JAMES W. C., H. W. G., and OTHERS.--Thanks for your kind letters, but we
have decided to use no more puzzles referring in any way to ourselves.
We also wish to remind some of you that enigmas must be in rhyme,
otherwise they can not be printed. Do not take your own name nor the
names of any of your friends to form a puzzle, because children to whom
you are entire strangers could never guess it. Be careful to use new
solutions in making puzzles; and when you see that we have already
published one on Washington, Bonaparte, or the name of any other
celebrated man, do not send us a repetition. We pay no attention to
puzzles not accompanied by full answers.

       *       *       *       *       *

Willow "pussies" are to be found now in almost all localities, judging
from the many reports sent us by our youthful correspondents. Crocuses
have pushed upward to the spring sunshine, and rose bushes are
beginning to send out tender green shoots. "Pussies" have been reported
by C. H. W., Mary M. R., Joe Ward, and many others; and Louis C. Vogt
sends a twig of these pretty downy tokens of spring, which he
accompanies with a very neatly printed letter. It is now time to begin
to watch for violets and anemones, and other early flowers.

       *       *       *       *       *

Answers to question by S. R. W. in Post-office Box, No. 17, are received
from "North Star," W. F. Bruns, Harry V. G., Florence B., E. L. M.,
Freddie H., Kittie A. R., "Mystic," and others. Eight words have been
sent. They are Scion, Suspicion, Coercion, Pernicion, Epinicion,
Internecion, Ostracion, Cestracion; these are all to be found in
Worcester's Dictionary. There is also Cion, which is synonymous with
Scion. There are, besides, several obsolete words with the same ending
not to be found in modern English dictionaries.

       *       *       *       *       *

Favors are acknowledged from Charlie Markward, Willie H. McVean, Amy L.
Orr, Harry C. Peck, Edward L. Haines, Percy and George, Alma Hoffmann,
Rebecca Hedges, Willie C. S., Alice E. Stephenson, Lottie C. Underhill,
Bessie L. Stewart, Jennie Clark, Charlie A. Mather, H. H. Pitcairn,
Nellie G. Vaughn, J. D., Willie R. H., Frank Coniston, Mina L. C., Lyman
C., Willie B. A., Leonie Young, Mamie Brooke, James Walker, Katie Black,
Henry Koehler, G. Walter Burnham, Effie E. P., Geraldine Watson, Ray
Bennett, Anabel Turner, Freddie C., Arthur B., R. L. R.

       *       *       *       *       *

Numerous correspondents have sent new answers to our Puzzle Picture in
No. 14; and although many have given nine names, but two, Florence Ozias
and Mark Robbins, have found D-rill, the mischievous monkey concealed by
our artist.

       *       *       *       *       *

Correct answers to puzzles received from E. T. Smith, George H.
Churchill, Mamie E. F., Herbert N. Twing, Fannie T., and Belle M.,
Leonard S. E., Effie K. Talboys, E. P. Walker, J. F. Sullivan, H. S. T.,
Gracie Flint, W. Robertson, Katie Wentz, Millie Benson, Ella W., Nellie
Bartlett, Goldie Williams, W. H. Kurtz, Henry Cullyford, J. H. Crosman,
Jun., Stella, Jay H. M., L. L. Lee, Marie Doyle, Gracie K. Richards.

       *       *       *       *       *

Answer to Charade in No. 17, on page 216--Fishball.

       *       *       *       *       *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

NUMERICAL CHARADE.

  I am composed of 12 letters.
  My 1, 3, 4 is a measure.
  My 6, 2, 9, 12 is a girl's name.
  My 11, 10, 4, 8, 3, 6, 5 is a young reptile.
  My 1, 7, 11 is a small animal.
  My whole is a South American river.

  CHESLY B. H.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 2.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

A small rope. A scent. A question often asked. Variegated. To clasp.
Water. Answer--two English poets.

  M. L.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 3.

ENIGMA.

  My first is in loss, but not in gain.
  My second is in France, but not in Spain.
  My third is in sling, but not in stung.
  My fourth is in old, and also in young.
  My fifth is in Venus, but not in Mars.
  My whole is composed of beautiful stars.

  ALFRED W. S.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 4.

RHOMBOID.

Across--A descent; a bench; to clip; to hold. Down--In flap; a
preposition; to allow; a bird; a knot; a pronoun; in flap.

  N. L. COLLAMER.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 5.

WORD SQUARE.

First, manner of walking. Second, a movement of the ocean. Third, to
manage a publication. Fourth, tame animals.

  NELLIE B.

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 6.

DIAMOND PUZZLE.

A vowel. An animal. A well-known fruit. A man's name. A vowel.

  H. N. T.




ADVERTISEMENTS.




HARPERS YOUNG PEOPLE.

HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE will be issued every Tuesday, and may be had at
the following rates--_payable in advance, postage free_:

  SINGLE COPIES                     $0.04
  ONE SUBSCRIPTION, _one year_       1.50
  FIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, _one year_     7.00

Subscriptions may begin with any Number. When no time is specified, it
will be understood that the subscriber desires to commence with the
Number issued after the receipt of order.

Remittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY ORDER or DRAFT, to avoid
risk of loss.

ADVERTISING.

The extent and character of the circulation of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE
will render it a first-class medium for advertising. A limited number of
approved advertisements will be inserted on two inside pages at 75 cents
per line.

  Address
  HARPER & BROTHERS,
  Franklin Square, N. Y.




A Fool's Errand.

By One of the Fools.

_The most successful Novel for more than a quarter of a Century. A
masterpiece._

"Holds the critic spellbound. * * * English literature contains no
similar picture."--International Review.

"Must be read by everybody who desires to be well informed."--Portland
Advertiser.

"A thrilling book, indeed."--Cincinnati Commercial.

"The most powerful National and social study since 'Uncle Tom's
Cabin.'"--Boston Courier.

"Read with breathless interest."--Hartford Courant.

"* * * Not matched in the whole range of modern fiction."--Boston
Traveller.

"Written in brains."--Rochester Rural Home.

"Selling by thousands every week."--N. Y. Tribune.

_Cloth, $1. Sold everywhere, or mailed by_
FORDS, HOWARD & HULBERT, 27 PARK PEACE, N. Y.




CANDY

Send one, two, three, or five dollars for a sample box, by express, of
the best Candies in America, put up elegantly and strictly pure. Refers
to all Chicago. Address

  C. F. GUNTHER,
  Confectioner,
  78 MADISON STREET, CHICAGO.




=KEEP YOUR BIRD= IN HEALTH AND SONG by using =SINGER'S PATENT GRAVEL
PAPER=. Sold by Druggists and Bird Dealers.

Depot, 582 Hudson St., N. Y.




The Child's Book of Nature.

       *       *       *       *       *

     The Child's Book of Nature, for the Use of Families and Schools:
     intended to aid Mothers and Teachers in Training Children in the
     Observation of Nature. In Three Parts. Part I. Plants. Part II.
     Animals. Part III. Air, Water, Heat, Light, &c. By WORTHINGTON
     HOOKER, M.D. Illustrated. The Three Parts complete in One Volume,
     Small 4to, Half Leather, $1.31; or, separately, in Cloth, Part I.,
     53 cents; Part II., 56 cents; Part III., 56 cents.

       *       *       *       *       *

A beautiful and useful work. It presents a general survey of the kingdom
of nature in a manner adapted to attract the attention of the child, and
at the same time to furnish him with accurate and important scientific
information. While the work is well suited as a class-book for schools,
its fresh and simple style cannot fail to render it a great favorite for
family reading.

The Three Parts of this book can be had in separate volumes by those who
desire it. This will be advisable when the book is to be used in
teaching quite young children, especially in schools.

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

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




BOOKS FOR YOUNG MEN.

       *       *       *       *       *

Character.

     Character. By SAMUEL SMILES. 12mo, Cloth, $1.00.

It is, in design and execution, more like his "Self-Help" than any of
his other works. Mr. Smiles always writes pleasantly, but he writes
best when he is telling anecdotes, and using them to enforce a moral
that he is too wise to preach about, although he is not afraid to
state it plainly. By means of it "Self-Help" at once became a standard
book, and "Character" is, in its way, quite as good as "Self-Help."
It is a wonderful storehouse of anecdotes and biographical
illustrations.--_Examiner_, London.

       *       *       *       *       *

Self-Help.

     Self-Help; with Illustrations of Character, Conduct, and
     Perseverance. By SAMUEL SMILES. New Edition, Revised and Enlarged.
     12mo, Cloth, $1.00.

The writings of Samuel Smiles are a valuable aid in the education of
boys. His style seems to have been constructed entirely for their
tastes; his topics are admirably selected, and his mode of communicating
excellent lessons of enterprise, truth, and self-reliance might be
called insidious and ensnaring if these words did not convey an idea
which is only applicable to lessons of an opposite character and
tendency taught in the same attractive style. The popularity of this
book, "Self-Help," abroad has made it a powerful instrument of good, and
many an English boy has risen from its perusal determined that his life
will be moulded after that of some of those set before him in this
volume. It was written for the youth of another country, but its wealth
of instruction has been recognized by its translation into more than one
European language, and it is not too much to predict for it a popularity
among American boys.--_N. Y. World._

       *       *       *       *       *

Thrift.

     Thrift. By SAMUEL SMILES. 12mo, Cloth, $1.00.

The mechanic, farmer, apprentice, clerk, merchant, and a large circle of
readers outside of these classes will find in the volume a wide range of
counsel and advice, presented in perspicuous language, and marked
throughout by vigorous good sense; and who, while deriving from it
useful lessons for the guidance of their personal affairs, will also be
imbibing valuable instruction in an important branch of political
economy. We wish it could be placed in the hands of all our
youth--especially those who expect to be merchants, artisans, or
farmers.--_Christian Intelligencer_, N. Y.

In this useful and sensible work, which should be in the hands of all
classes of readers, especially of those whose means are slender, the
author does for private economy what Smith and Ricardo and Bastiat have
done for national economy. * * * The one step which separates
civilization from savagery--which renders civilization possible--is
labor done in excess of immediate necessity. * * * To inculcate this
most necessary and most homely of all virtues, we have met with no
better teacher than this book.--_N. Y. World._

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

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




[Illustration]

THE TRAMP PUZZLE.


With one straight cut of the scissors get out of this tramp a handsome
Persian and a sea-cow.




A PERSONATION: WHO AM I?


My enemies declare I was alike faithless to friend or foe; my partisans,
that I was a martyr. In either case, I expiated my follies and
weaknesses with my life, as had my grandmother before me. I was born at
Dunfermline, November 19, 1600, and died January 30, 1649--not an old
man, as you see. I was heir to great possessions, and held a high
position, but I lost land, fortune, and honor. When young, my great
friend, also a favorite with my father, obtained a hold on me, and
induced me, as soon as I succeeded my father in my inheritance, to begin
my career by paying no heed to my people's wishes. I was very obstinate,
and as determined as my people to carry my point, and we soon fell out.
What I could not gain fairly, I tried to obtain by treachery, and the
result can be readily guessed. I introduced many measures; none of them
were liked, and the struggle as to who would conquer--the one or the
many--began. My habits were extravagant, but then I had fine tastes;
collected many beautiful pictures, which, alas! at my death, were
scattered, never again to be a collection. The painter Vandyck was a
favorite of mine, and when he lay dying I sent my own doctor to attend
him, but in vain. He painted several likenesses of me and my family. I
had very warm friends, who stood by me in all my troubles, but nothing
could save me; and at last, January 15, 1649, I was put on trial for my
life. My judges were prejudiced against me, and I was not allowed to
plead my own cause, so was adjudged worthy of death. All agree, friends
and foes, that I met my fate bravely, and when you find out who I am,
"remember" the last word I spoke. My family were scattered and poor.
Afterward my eldest son avenged my "murder," as he considered it, but
three of my judges escaped, and found shelter in America. There was,
however, a taint of falsehood in all of us, and my children's children
were at last dispossessed of what had been my inheritance.

What most grieved me was not my losses, but remembering how many friends
suffered with me; and, spite of all my faults, few have been more loved.




[Illustration: WILL IT BITE?]




[Illustration:

CHARLES. "What did you have for Dessert to-day, Lil? We had Omelet
Sho-Fly!"

LILLIE. "What is that?"

CHARLES. "Oh, papa says it's French for blowed."]





End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, March 16, 1880, by Various

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, MAR 16, 1880 ***

***** This file should be named 28410-8.txt or 28410-8.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/4/1/28410/

Produced by Annie McGuire

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.



*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.net/license).


Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
     License.  You must require such a user to return or
     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
     Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
     of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.


Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.


Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org

For additional contact information:
     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
     Chief Executive and Director
     gbnewby@pglaf.org


Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations.  To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate


Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.

Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.


Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.


Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

     http://www.gutenberg.net

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.