[to be continued.]
RABBITS.
THEIR CARE, AND HOW TO BUILD THEIR HOUSES.
BY E. CHASE.
The first rabbit I had I put in a wooden box. Not knowing anything about his habits, I nailed laths over the front to keep him in. The next morning I was very much surprised to find that bunny had gnawed his way out, and was busily engaged in eating up my last rose-bush.
The next house I built for him was against the back-yard fence. In front of the house I tacked wire netting, and in addition made a yard for him in which to run about, taking good care to cover over the top, so "brer rabbit" could not escape by jumping out. I thought I had him secure this time, but when I was at school he burrowed out under the fence, and ate up all the neighbors' flowers. My first week's experience was certainly very trying on my pocket-book.
DIAGRAM OF THE HOUSE AND YARD.
Rabbits make very interesting pets if one knows how to take care of them. The house shown in the accompanying diagram proved to be a very serviceable one. It is divided into two "rooms," and has a small run attached. The floor of the house should be provided with sliding pans, which will make clearing an easy matter. In order to keep all dampness from the house it is necessary to raise it a few inches from the ground. In winter—that is, in very severe weather—it would be best to carry this house in-doors. In order to keep the rabbits from burrowing out, it is necessary to drive down stakes, about two feet long, close together, all around the yard. A box sunk in the earth at the further end of the yard, with an opening so that bunny can go in and out, is a luxury that he will greatly appreciate.
For feeding rabbits, give them oats, corn, all kinds of greens, carrots, raw sweet-potatoes, tea-leaves (after they come from the teapot), and milk. I have heard it said that rabbits do not drink, but this is a mistake, as I have had over sixty rabbits at a time, and never knew of one that did not drink.
It is considered best to keep the buck away from the doe until the young are a month old, as he is apt to trample them. The number of young varies from four to eight. They are born without fur, and their eyes are shut. It usually takes ten days for them to open their eyes and get their coats. The first little fellow who ventures from the nest is regarded to be the smartest one of the litter.
I have only been able to discover three species of rabbits—the Angora, with long silky hair; the lop-eared, with very long cars which drag on the ground; and the common rabbit, with which most of us are familiar.
Rabbits are very good barometers in their way. Before a storm they will become unusually frisky. Although the sky may be clear, if you see your pets kicking up their long hind-legs you may make up your mind there will be a shower within a few hours.
A noted French scientist recently experimented with the different small animals as to which could stand the greatest amount of cold. He decided that the rabbit could, for he locked one up overnight in a cake of ice, and the next morning the rabbit hopped out, feeling very well, and with a tremendous appetite. In spite of this notable gentleman's discovery, I have had three valuable rabbits frozen stiff during a siege of cold weather.
LOP-EARED RABBITS AT HOME.
KNICKERBOCKER GRAYS.
BY ANNE HELME.
"IN TIME OF PEACE PREPARE FOR WAR."
IN COLUMN OF COMPANIES.
The clear tones of the bugle sound through the big arsenal, and there is a rush of small gray-clad boys carrying guns to their proper places. Again it sounds attention! Assemble! And a long line is formed of apparently motionless statues. Then comes the roll-call. As in the regular army, the First Sergeant in command calls out the name. His voice is not stentorian, and neither are the answers, but there is a very effective military tone and ring to them, and answering every purpose. The orders are given by the different boys in command—First, Second, and Third Corporal, First, Second, and Third Sergeant, First, Second, and Third Lieutenant, Sergeant-Major, Color-Sergeant, Captain, Adjutant, and Major.
THE MAJOR.
THE MAJOR AND HIS OFFICERS.
To one who is not conversant with the manual of arms, the commands given are somewhat bewildering; but so well trained are the boys that they answer, and some with military precision, and present arms and carry arms in a delightful manner, eminently military, not always satisfactorily, for the small boys in command have sometimes to repeat their orders, and occasionally Captain Hoyt, the officer in command, and also an officer of the United States army, has to enforce the orders in a more far-reaching voice and authoritative manner.
THE DRUMMER.
The Knickerbocker Grays is a private organization intended to instruct the sons of New-Yorkers in the knowledge of drilling. It is managed by several ladies, who give their personal supervision to it. The class meets twice a week during the winter season in the arsenal of the Seventy-first Regiment, at Thirty-fourth Street and Park Avenue. The ages are limited, no boy under seven being allowed to enter. The uniform is gray, with black trimming, and all the military rules as to the number of straps, epaulettes, and accoutrements are rigidly adhered to. The boys learn to march well, although it is a comical sight to see some of the very small boys carrying their muskets and making superhuman efforts to keep time. Perhaps the pathetic note in the picture adds the finishing touch in the little drummer-boy, who, clad in the same uniform, drums with might and main. He is paid to drum, but there is a look of pride and delight in his profession which quite prevents any thought of pity at the contrast in his lot to those of the boys of his own age who go into the drill merely for the sake of occupation and amusement.
The boys love Tuesday and Friday afternoons, and although the stimulus of the medal given to the one who does not miss a single drill has something to do with the wonderful attendance, still it would be difficult to keep the boys away even without having the prize to look forward to. To answer to the name in roll-call is counted necessary, and many a boy who has been far too sick to go to school or study finds it quite possible to be on hand to answer to his name, even if, after a few marches around the armory, his legs do get tired and he has to be excused.
Promotion is eagerly looked forward to, and there is an immense amount of pleasant rivalry over who shall be promoted to be Sergeant, Corporal, and the other officers. The Color-Sergeant carries the colors around with a most heroic disregard to fatigue, while the four boys who make up his body-guard look at him most admiringly, and not in the least enviously. Round and round the hall they go, while the notes of the drum rattle out the time to keep. The officers give their commands, and the companies go from right to left as they are bidden. The officers look very stern, and the soldiers themselves seem thoroughly impressed at the importance of their duty, although the boy nature will crop out at times, and there are occasionally ebullitions of sheer good nature and animal spirit which would hardly do in the regular army. Of course each boy intends fully to be a soldier, and if a war should break out it is to be feared that a number of young recruits would insist upon being of service to their country.
The awkward squad is as amusing as all awkward squads always are, but is only to be seen at the commencement of the winter. It is composed entirely of beginners, who have to attain a certain degree of efficiency before they can be put with the others. But as the American boy is very imitative, he soon learns, and at the end of the term it would be difficult for any one to pick out the boys who had only belonged for one winter. The Captains and Lieutenants are fine, manly-looking fellows, and their plumed caps and glittering accoutrements are extremely becoming. They have a full sense of the dignity of their position, as why should they not have, when promoted from the ranks, step by step, to the proud office which they now hold? They have not bought their commissions, but have earned them by good, conscientious work. The boy who shirks, fools, and carries on has the mortification of staying a private, while his comrade goes steadily upward. The two officers in charge, Captain Hoyt and assistant, have, the boys complain, regular lynx eyes, and sometimes find out trifling acts that are not compatible with military discipline, much to the surprise of the fellows themselves. When a boy is promoted, his promotion receives no end of congratulation and applause from his fellow-soldiers, and it is doubtful if a prouder moment can come in any man's life than comes to the boy when he is put in command of the Knickerbocker Grays.
There is considerable emulation among the different companies. The Grays, by-the-way, are divided into four companies, A, B, C, and D, and each officer endeavors to have his company the best of all. And woe be to the boy who is insubordinate. However, cases of real insubordination are extremely rare, for the boys soon catch the spirit of true military life, and realize that the commands given must be obeyed at once and without any question. It is contended, and with reason, that one of the best features of the drill is this very spirit of discipline, which every mother knows is one of the most difficult things in the world to inculcate in boys.
"RIGHT FORWARD, FOURS RIGHT."
The first movements of the regiment are quite picturesque. After the roll-call the First Sergeant in command calls out "Count fours!" in other words dividing off four boys at a time; if they are more than make even fours, the Second or Third Sergeant takes the extra boys and reports with them to the Color-Sergeant, who takes them for his guard. "Right four, fours right," is then called, and the boys take their positions. The First Sergeant faces about and salutes his Captain. When the Captain has returned his salute, the Sergeant takes his post two paces behind the company. Now is heard the tread of feet, and the Captain to whose company the colors belong commands "Carry arms! Present arms!" Then the Color-Sergeant and the body-guard march in front of the company, and the Color-Sergeant takes his place two paces to the left of the Third Sergeant, who is on the left guard of his company—and the drill begins.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
Do I ever have the blues? Why, Lottie, what a question to come from a girl of sixteen? Am I to infer that you do, at your age, with the world a blaze of beauty, and your feet so light and your heart so young that you ought to go skipping instead of walking, if only you dared to let the gladness of your life overflow.
But girls do have the blues, insists Gretchen, at my elbow; and she adds that they have reasons enough: that they are not always understood, that they have fancies and thoughts which they cannot always explain, that, in short, girls are not always as happy as they look.
Granting that this may be true of some girls, what are they to do? As a person not subject to these disagreeable visitations, I can speak with the sort of authority the doctor has when he enters the room of a patient. The doctor need not have a fever in order to prescribe for it. In fact, he will prescribe more successfully if he be well himself. The blues make the person suffering from their presence extremely uncomfortable, and her discomfort in a subtle way acts upon others, so that nobody is quite cheerful in her neighborhood. People who are "blue" are quite often cross as well, and are unable to accept pleasantly the ups and downs of every day. Now, when you think of it, you must admit that it is a very humiliating experience to be cross, for cross people are 'disagreeable, and none of us wishes to be that.
The best way to get rid of the blues is not to own that they have you. Put on your hat and go for a walk. Call on a friend and take her the piece of music you are to try together, or the book you have just finished, which you would like to lend her. Do something kind for somebody, and stop thinking about yourself. The greatest waste of time in this world, dears, is to think too much about one's self. Mrs. Browning gives the right idea in her poem, "My Kate," where she says,
"'Twas her thinking of others made you think of her."
Don't laugh at me, girls, when I tell you that half the low spirits one hears of springs from a very prosaic source. That pound of chocolates, that rich pudding, that piece of frosted cake, all of them very delicious, but all very indigestible, are to blame, in most instances, for a young girl's depression. Try what Emerson called "plain living and high thinking," and see how cheery life will become.
One of my girls writes that she had a vexatious little problem. She has been accustomed to correspond freely with one or two friends—boys of her own age—and "people tell her it is wrong." My dear child, pray explain whom you mean by "people," and what they have to do with it?
Of course you do not write letters to any one without your mother's approval, and I suppose your mother reads your letters, that you love to share all those you receive with her, and that you show her those you write. If you do this, nobody else is concerned. A girl should write no letters, and should receive none, which she is not only willing but very glad to show to her mother. When she has had the great misfortune to lose her mother, then her aunt, or her elder sister, or some kind matronly friend should be her confidante. It makes no difference to whom she writes, if only she does it openly, and with the sympathy, advice, and loving approval of those who are older than she, and able to guide her.
OFF WITH THE MERBOY.
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.
CHAPTER IV.
THE BUREAU OF INFORMATION.
immieboy took the reins in hand, and the Merboy sprang lightly out of the carriage, and by means of his tail wiggled himself to where the bureau stood. He opened the top drawer, and from where he sat Jimmieboy, who was watching him with a great deal of interest, could see that it was divided up into sections, in each of which lay a dozen or more large envelopes, each fat with contents of some kind or another.
"I guess this must be the information I want about your lockjaw," said the Merboy, picking up an envelope. "Yes," he continued, as he took great slips of paper out of it. "It is. This envelope tells how to take spots out of carpets. Ha! ha! Listen to this: 'To remove an ink stain from the parlor carpet, take a pair of shears and cut out the spotted part.' That's good advice. Here's another telling how to start a fire. It says: 'First build your fire, and then procure a match. Any kind of match will do except one that has already been used. Light the match and apply the burning end to the kindling. If the kindling ignites, the fire is started. If it does not, light another match and apply the burning end to the kindling. Keep this up until the kindling does ignite!'"
JIMMIEBOY SAW A HUGE WHALE RUSHING DOWN TOWARD THEM.
As the Merboy finished reading this a great commotion was heard in the water directly overhead, and looking up Jimmieboy saw a huge whale rushing headlong down toward him. At first he was a little frightened, but as the whale drew nearer and smiled pleasantly at him his fear for some reason or another disappeared entirely.
"Hullo, Merby," said the Whale. "What are you doing?"
"I'm after information," returned the Merboy, shaking the extended flipper of the Whale.
"So am I," returned the Whale. "I'm in great trouble."
"Indeed?" said the Merboy. "What's the matter?"
"I got into a fight with some whalers in the Arctic Ocean, and one of 'em threw a harpoon at me, and it stuck in my back. I want to get it out, but I don't know how. Which drawer has information for Whales in it?"
"I don't know," replied the Merboy. "I'm trying to find out what's the matter with Jimmieboy here. I'm afraid he's got lockjaw, but the only thing the bureau has told me so far is how to take spots out of carpets and start fires."
"What nonsense!" said the Whale. "Let me try it, will you? I'm suffering like everything."
"Certainly," said the Merboy, standing aside. "There isn't any special hurry about our case."
The Whale smiled gratefully and grabbed up an envelope. Opening it he extracted a slip of paper, and read:
"'To make a good peach pie get ten ripe sliced peaches, a tin plate, and enough dough to cover first the bottom of the plate and the top of the peaches. Put the whole into a hot oven and cook until done.'"
"Ho!" laughed the Merboy.
"This bureau's a nuisance," said the Whale. "The idea of telling a sea-monster with a harpoon in his back how to make peach pie."
Here he selected another envelope. This one contained a slip which read: "It is not polite to sneeze in company. If you like to sneeze, and are going out to an evening party, contrive to do all your sneezing before you go. If during the evening party you feel a sneeze coming on, rub the bridge of your nose, or press the middle of your upper lip with your forefinger, and the desire to sneeze will disappear."
"Nice advice to give a Whale," sneered the monster. "Where is my upper lip I'd like to know, or my forefinger for that matter? If I don't catch the right answer this time I'll hit that bureau with my tail and knock it all to pieces."
The Whale made one more effort. This time the slip he took out read, "If your teeth ache go to the dentist and have them pulled."
"That's a little nearer right," said the Merboy.
"I don't see how," retorted the Whale. "I haven't a toothache. I have a backache. Shall I go and get my back pulled?"
"No," said the Goldfish, "but perhaps you could get the harpoon pulled."
The Whale's face wreathed with smiles.
"That's so," he said, eagerly. "Wonder I didn't think of that before. It's a good idea. The bureau is some use after all—though if it hadn't been for you, Merby, I'd never have discovered it."
"Oh, yes you would," said the Merboy. "After you had thought it over a little while you'd have seen what was meant. Information isn't any good unless you think about it a little."
"Well, I'm obliged to you just the same," said the Whale, backing off. "It's pretty hard to think when one has a harpoon in his back. I suppose you don't know where I can find a dentist, do you?"
"No, I don't," said the Merboy. "I've never had occasion to use one."
"Oh, well, I suppose there are such things, and so I'll set about finding one. Good-by," said the Whale, and off he started in search of a dentist.
"He's a very dull creature," said the Merboy, returning to the bureau. "He never thinks much even when he hasn't a harpoon in his back. Now for our trouble again. This envelope looks as if it might tell us."
Again was the little fellow doomed to disappointment. All the information contained in this envelope related to the killing of potato-bugs, and the best way to keep mosquitos from biting.
"This is the worst failure of a bureau of information I ever saw, or else I don't know how to manage it," he said. "Suppose you try it, Jimmieboy. You may have better luck."
Jimmieboy dropped the reins and alighted from the carriage. Walking to the bureau he opened the second drawer and found it full of books. They were very handsome books on the outside, and if one could judge from their titles they were attractive inside too. One of them, for instance, was named The Porpoise of the Mediterranean, or A Minnow's Adventures on the Coast of Africa. Another was labelled Poems of A. Swordfish. Another was called Jellyfish Jingles, a title which so interested Jimmieboy that he opened it and read some of them. In a minute he threw his head back and laughed loudly, opening his mouth as widely as possible in his mirth. He was so amused that he couldn't keep his lips closed.
"Listen to this," he said; "it's called 'The Unfortunate Tale of the Polliwog:'
"The small sea-toad he climbed a tree
One windy summer's day,
And through the water chanced to see
A pollywog grown gray;
Whereat he cried, 'Oh, Pollywog,
Come tell me, sir, I pray,
How is it you are not a frog
And yet have grown so gray?'
"'Because,' the Pollywog replied,
His visage turning pale;
'Because,' and here he deeply sighed,
And sadly wagged his tail;
'Because,' he added, as the tide
Grew wavy in the gale;
'Because I shed but tears; I've tried
But cannot shed my tail.'"
"That's pretty good," said the Merboy, with a smile, noticing with a great deal of relief that Jimmieboy had at last opened his mouth. "Are there any more?" he added, just to see if Jimmieboy's cure were final.
"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "Here's one about 'A Sad Sea-Dog.'
"Oh, the sad sea-dog he has no fin,
And he never moves, they say.
He sits as still as a piece of tin,
And he's never known to smile or grin,
Or to wipe his tears away.
"His chief delight is to bark and growl,
And to yelp and screech and snap;
He does not mind if the wild winds howl,
He never will stir for fish or fowl,
And cares not what may hap.
"He shakes his flippers and wags his jaws,
Delights in the awful gale,
He breaks each one of the ocean's laws,
And no one lives that can make him pause,
From sharks to the mammoth whale.
"And it's all because a fisherman—
A man with a great green eye—
Mistook him once for his black-and-tan,
And whistled to him, and called him 'Fan,'
In the days long since gone by.
"When a sea-dog's name is Anthony
Montgomery Varian,
'Tis apt to sour his spirit to be
Miscalled as upon that day was he
By a mean land name like Fan!"
"I should think so," said the Goldfish. "It's like being christened Algernon at church and being known as Petie in school."
"I don't wonder he sulked," said Jimmieboy.
"Nor I," said the Merboy. "But, say, Jimmieboy, you are cured of your lockjaw, aren't you?"
"Dear me, I forgot!" said Jimmieboy. "I wasn't going to open my mouth under water at all."
"Why not, pray?" asked the Merboy.
"For fear of swallowing the ocean," replied Jimmieboy.
"Ha! ha!" laughed the Merboy. "Why, you couldn't swallow a drop of it, much less the whole of it, the way I've fixed it. Is that all you were doing—just holding your month shut?"
"That's all," said Jimmieboy.
"Well, well! The idea!" said the Merboy. "You ought to have known better."
"Well, I didn't," said Jimmieboy, glad to find that it was not really necessary to keep his mouth closed.
"Apparently not—and it took the bureau of information to cure you. That's a very useful bureau."
"Very," said Jimmieboy. "I'd like to go through some of the drawers if we have time. Have we?"
"Lots," said the Merboy, taking the brush on the top of the bureau and fixing his hair with it. "We have ten times as much time as there is really."
"How can that be?" asked Jimmieboy.
"Well, never mind now," said the Merboy. "But some time you ask your papa how long a dream a boy can have who is asleep only ten seconds. You will be surprised at what he tells you. I once had a dream lasting forty years in a nap that was less than a minute long. So go ahead. You have plenty of time, and I dare say you will find lots of valuable information in the bureau. I will be back in a few minutes."
"You aren't going to leave me, are you?" asked Jimmieboy.
"No. I'm only going to drive the Dolphins around to the stable. I'll be right back."
The Merboy entered the carriage again and drove off, while Jimmieboy turned his attention to the bureau of information. As he turned, his eye caught sight of two little drawers that he had not noticed before on either side of the mirror which surmounted the bureau. He tried to open the right-hand drawer, but found it locked. The left-hand one opened easily, and in it Jimmieboy found a little golden key. This, as it turned out, was the key to the other drawer, and which, no sooner had the key turned in the lock, slid out as though pushed by a spring, and from it jumped the funniest little old man Jimmieboy had ever seen, hardly taller than his thumb, and dressed from head to foot in beautiful garments of silver and gold. In his left hand the little old man carried a jewelled staff, and his right hand he extended to Jimmieboy, as much as to say,
"Why, howdy do? I'm very glad to see you."