[to be continued.]
[THE EASTER BUTTERFLY.]
BY SUSAN ARCHER WEISS.
George and Ella were in the garden, helping to gather the last of the fruit from the big apple-tree under which they had played all the summer. One large red apple fell on the walk, and rolled away under the gooseberry hedge, and Ella knelt down to look for it. But as she was about reaching under the bushes, she suddenly started back with a scream. "Oh, Georgie, such a horrid, horrid caterpillar!"
George, who hated caterpillars, and thought that they did a great deal of harm in gardens, took up a stick to kill this one. But Aunt Kate, who was looking on, checked him. "Stop, George; let us see what he is doing."
It was a very large and very ugly caterpillar, hanging to a twig of the gooseberry bush. He was curled up in almost a circle, and moving his head busily from side to side. A great many fine threads were twisted all around him.
"He is trying to get out of that cobweb," said Ella.
"No; he is making the web himself," said George, looking closely. "See how he is spinning out the threads, and winding them round himself."
"Yes," said Aunt Kate, quietly, "he is spinning his shroud. Don't disturb him, and to-morrow we will come and see what he has done."
So next day they came again into the garden, and looked under the gooseberry bush. But instead of the caterpillar, they found, hanging to the twig, a little dry brown case, or cocoon, which George said looked very much like the stump of an old cigar.
"He is in there," said Aunt Kate. "That is his coffin."
"Why, Aunt Kate! a caterpillar burying himself in a shroud and a coffin?"
"Yes; he has spun himself a fine silken shroud, and fastened himself up in a coffin."
"Is he dead?" asked Ella.
"You would think so if you could see him. He is nothing now but a little hard dry shell, which neither moves nor breathes. He can neither see nor hear."
"Then he must be dead," said George.
"No, not dead; there remains a spark of life in the little dried-up body. By-and-by, when the right time comes, you will see him burst out of that shroud and coffin, but not as an ugly caterpillar: he will be a beautiful butterfly with lovely wings."
"Why, Aunt Kate!" they both exclaimed, in surprise.
But Aunt Kate was standing with a dreamy, far-away look in her blue eyes, and a soft sweet smile on her lips. George said she looked as though she saw the air full of beautiful butterflies. And at that Aunt Kate smiled, and kneeling down, tied a bit of silk thread around the little cocoon, and took it gently off the twig. "It shall hang on a nail in your room," she said to Ella, "and in the spring we shall see what will happen."
So all through the winter the poor caterpillar, in his shroud and coffin, hung on the wall, near the ceiling, where he might be out of harm's way. More than once George and Ella were tempted to take the cocoon gently off the nail; and feeling how light it was, and how it rattled with a dry, hollow sound, they could not believe that any life remained in it. But Aunt Kate told them to have faith in what she said, until they should see with their own eyes.
On Easter-eve the children were seated before the fire, coloring eggs. Aunt Kate was explaining to them that the festival of Easter was in remembrance of our Lord's resurrection from the tomb.
"It was wonderful, when He had been three whole days dead," said Ella, solemnly.
"Yes, but we shall all rise from our tombs as our Saviour did," said George; "Mr. Danton told us so last Sunday. I know it must be true. But, Aunt Kate, it seems such a wonderful thing to believe."
"Do you believe, George, that that poor dried-up insect on the wall there will ever come out of its tomb a beautiful creature with wings?"
"I don't know," said George, doubtfully. "He seems too dead ever to come to life again."
"I believe he will, because Aunt Kate says so," said Ella; and Aunt Kate smiled.
"That is having faith," said she.
Next morning was Easter—Sunday—a bright, lovely day, almost as warm and bright as summer.
"Auntie," cried Ella, rushing into the room with her hands full of white and yellow crocuses, "see what I have found in the garden! These dear flowers poking their little yellow heads out of the ground, and looking as if they were staring around to see if spring had come. Isn't it wonderful how they could come up out of the dirt so clean and bright?"
"So the little dry balls which have lain all winter in the cold dark ground have come to life again," said Aunt Kate. "But now put them in water, and let us go to breakfast."
Ella went into her own room, which was next to Aunt Kate's, to get a little blue china vase for the flowers. But in a moment she called out: "Oh, auntie, come and see! There is a hole in the cocoon!"
Sure enough, when Aunt Kate came, she saw that a large hole had been made in one end of the cocoon, and that it was empty.
THE BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY.
Then she looked carefully all over the room, and while she was doing so, Ella suddenly gave a cry of wonder and delight. On the window-seat in the bright sunshine was a large and beautiful butterfly, lightly balancing himself, and slowly waving his gold and purple wings to and fro.
"Oh, Aunt Kate, can that be our ugly caterpillar turned into such a beautiful butterfly?"
"Yes, this is the poor ugly worm which once crawled on the ground, and did nothing in all its life but search for food. He has broken his tomb, as you see, and come forth a lovely winged creature, to fly in the air, and rest upon flowers, and sip dew and honey from their fragrant blossoms."
"How he trembles!" said Ella; "and why does he wave his wings so?"
"He is getting them ready for flight. And perhaps he trembles from joy to find himself what he is."
"Auntie," said Ella, in a low voice, and with a very grave look, "do you think we shall be as beautiful and as happy when we come out of our graves, and find ourselves angels with wings?"
"No doubt of it," Aunt Kate replied, softly. "A thousand times more beautiful and happy."
"If we are good while we are caterpillars."
"Yes, if we are good."
Ella stood a long time looking at the beautiful insect. Her heart was full of a solemn wonder and awe at this great miracle, as it seemed to her.
"If the caterpillar could have known," she said, "while he was a poor ugly worm, that he would some time be a beautiful butterfly, I think he would have been glad to bury himself up in that coffin. And, Aunt Kate, it seems strange that he should have come out of his grave on Easter-day, our Lord's resurrection day.[2] Perhaps it was to teach Georgie and me an Easter lesson. George will believe it now."
Just then the butterfly slowly lifted himself on his wings, fluttered around in a circle, and settled quivering and trembling on the crocus blossoms. So they left him there while they went down to breakfast.
The offers for exchanges from our correspondents have come in so fast of late that we have been obliged, for the present, to place a large portion of them on the third page of the cover, in order to make room for letters, answers, and puzzles, which fill the two pages allotted to the Post-office Box.
New York City.
We children have just had a box of odd things from our auntie, who lives in Cuba, and I thought the readers of Young People would like to hear about it. It was a great big box, and the first thing we saw when papa took off the cover was a lot of sugar-cane. It looked very hard and dry, but when papa cut off the outside, how nice and white the inside was! We sucked the juice, and it was sweeter than sugar. Then papa took out a bundle done up in yellow paper, and marked, "Open carefully." It was full of pinol, which is a kind of corn meal made by the country people in Cuba. They roast the corn, and then grind it fine, and mix it with brown sugar. They eat it just that way, and sometimes they wet it with milk, and make little cakes. Auntie wrote that the school-boys in Cuba take a mouthful of pinol, and then try to say fou-fou without blowing out any meal. We tried, but the meal, which tastes very nice, was like dry powder, and we couldn't do it.
There was a little box full of what we always called guinea-peas, but which are called pepusas in Cuba. They are a bright red pea, with a little black spot on one side. Auntie always writes a description of everything, and so we know that these grow on bushes, like our hazel-nuts. The bushes are covered with husks, which crack open when they are dry, and show a whole bunch of pepusas inside.
THE SAND-BOX.
There were so many candied fruits that I couldn't tell about half. There was one very curious, which they call marañon in Cuba, but papa says in Jamaica it is called cashew. The fruit is yellow and red, and is shaped something like a pear. The curious thing about it is that the seed, which is a kind of nut, is outside the fruit, and hangs on the lower end. If this nut is roasted when it is fresh, it is nicer than a chestnut.
There were a great many corojo nuts in our box, and we have enough to play with for a year; for we are going to do just like the Cuban children—carry them in our pockets, and use them for marbles until we are tired of them, and then crack them and eat the meat. They are a small, round, green nut, and the meat is like a tiny piece of cocoa-nut. The corojo nuts grow on a palm-tree, and hang in great bunches right under the crown of glistening green leaves.
My letter is growing too long, but I must tell about something auntie sent us a year ago. There is a very beautiful tree, which grows all through the Cuban woods, which they call salvadera. In Jamaica they call it the sandbox-tree, because they get the pretty, fluted seed cases, and make sand-boxes of them. If they are picked just at the right time, they last for years. If they are left on the tree, they ripen until they are dark brown, and then they fly open with a bang, and send the seeds in all directions. You can hear them sometimes in Cuban woods popping on every side, like hundreds of pistols.
Well, last year auntie sent us a very handsome sand-box, all varnished, and mounted on a wooden stand. We stood it on the mantel-piece. One evening we were all sitting in the parlor, when some one, as it seemed, fired off a pistol right in the room. Papa ran to the door, thinking it was in the street, and we children all crept close to mamma, and got hold of her dress. Pretty soon papa came back, looking very much puzzled, for the street was all quiet. He came and stood in front of the fire, wondering what the noise could have been, till all of a sudden he began to laugh and point to our sand-box. There stood the wooden stand, but every bit of the box had disappeared. We found it afterward in little pieces scattered all over the room. I suppose it had been picked too dry, and the heat of the fire had finished it.
Hallie J. R.
The sandbox-tree is one of the most beautiful growths of West Indian forests. As we are sure our little readers will like to see a picture of the seed case which "flies open with a bang," we take the accompanying illustration from A Christmas in the West Indies, by Charles Kingsley, published by Harper & Brothers.
South Salem, New York.
I have taken Young People from the first number, and find it very entertaining.
I have no brothers, and only one sister. She is married, and has gone as a missionary to far-off India. She has been there more than a year. In her last letter she said they were camping out in a grove of three or four hundred orange-trees. She has oranges, lemons, bananas, custard-apples, mangoes, and other fruits growing in her own garden, and a great many flowers too.
I go to a good district school a mile and a half from our house. We have had twenty-nine scholars all through the winter.
Lucie N. P.
New York City.
I have a pair of roller skates which I skate on every afternoon. They are the easiest kind to skate on. You just have to move a little, and they roll along as easy as possible. I read an article in Young People about roller skates, and I thought it was splendid. I have a little sister named Minnetta, and I let her skate. It is real amusing to see her, as she is just learning.
Rosalee C.
West Newton, Pennsylvania.
I am a little boy five years old. I have a papa and mamma, and a sister Jessie, who is nine years old. And I have a sister and brother in heaven. My aunt is here, but she is sick now, and I have to keep real quiet, and can't beat my drum any. We live on the railroad, and I can see the cars nearly all the time.
My papa is a minister. I do not go to school, but I recite to my papa. I read, spell, and recite arithmetic. I can print, and I can write some.
Fred R. P.
Irvington, New York.
I wish some correspondent of the Post-office Box who lives in a maple-sugar region would tell me how much sap it takes to make a pound of sugar.
G. H.
Port Orange, Florida.
I have come all the way from Kentucky to Florida, and I have had such a nice time that I want to tell Young People about it.
It was snowing hard when we left Louisville on the 16th of February, and when we reached Palatka, three days afterward, people were sitting out under the orange-trees in summer dresses. We felt as if summer had really come when we saw green peas and strawberries on the table.
I saw an alligator that was twelve feet long. There are plenty of little ones for sale. A young lady in our hotel has one for a pet.
There are a good many curiosity stores in Palatka, and all of them are full of stuffed birds. In one is a large panther which was killed near the town.
On our way here from Orange City we came through several cypress swamps. The cypress-trees had tall ferns growing at their roots, and different kinds of air plants were fastened to them all the way up to the top. One of the swamps was so deep that the water came up into the bottom of the wagon, and spoiled our lunch.
This is a lovely place. The Halifax River is just in front of the hotel. The water is salt, and papa says it is really an arm of the sea. We take a sail-boat and go across the river, a mile and a half, then we walk a little way, and come to the Atlantic Ocean, where we find pretty shells and go in bathing.
There are lots of fish here, and oyster beds all along near the shore. I am keeping a diary of my Florida trip, and write in it every day myself. I am eight years old.
Ethel A.
Canton, New York.
Here is something that may amuse some little readers of Young People. Cut out a number of very small paper dolls, not over half an inch long, and lay them in a row on the table. Then take a ribbon, and rub it over your head quickly several times. Then hold it directly over the dolls, and they will all rise up.
Annie W.
Hinsdale, Illinois.
It is nice here in the summer-time, and we have many pretty flowers, but in the winter it is so cold that people get sick, and sometimes they have to go to Florida, and stay until the cold weather is over.
I have a large Esquimau dog, and sometimes I harness him to my sleigh, and have a good ride with my little sister.
In the summer I go fishing over to Brush Hill Creek. I catch as many as fifteen bull-heads and half a dozen sunfish, and that makes a very good meal for my Esquimau dog.
Charles R. Jones.
Hinsdale, New York.
I think Young People is the nicest paper published. We go to Chautauqua every year. Last summer I saw Young People there, and I thought so much of it I asked papa to take it for me, and he did.
I have been very sick this winter with diphtheria, but I am well enough now to go to church and to school again. My papa is a Methodist Episcopal minister. He has two little ponies, and I ride one of them. I am twelve years old.
Dora J.
Portland, Connecticut.
My finances are nearly in the same condition as those of Percy L. McDermott. I get a dollar monthly, papa pays all my postage, and mamma gives me ten cents for keeping my stamp box out of the way when I am not using it. Although papa is a great advocate of neatness, he is interested in stamp collecting, and rejoices with me when I get a new specimen. He always asks me to get the box down when he is at home; mamma never hints at such a thing. She is content to leave the box, stamps, and all put aside unless I agitate the subject. I do not go to school. Mamma teaches me at home. I study in the morning by myself, and it is very hard to keep my mind from wandering, especially as the kite season is in its height, and we are having such mild spring weather.
I take orders to manufacture kites, free of charge, from small boys in the neighborhood, who will cut toward their hands. In this way I drive a thriving business, but mamma gets more and more particular with my recitations as the season advances. I study geography, grammar, arithmetic, geology, French, drawing, and music, and mamma holds to the point that a spelling and reading lesson can not be studied too well. All this takes time, and can not be done in a minute.
I sympathize greatly with Percy in his awful fix, as he expresses it, as I too have a great many letters to write, and a geological research on cryolite to make for a professor. (That research is the "last feather on the camel's back.") I am one of Percy's correspondents, but freely forgive him for not answering my letter, and when in future years he is nominated for the Presidency of the United States, I will never mention the stamp exchange to a single soul.
I wish it was in my power to alleviate the sufferings of Jimmy Brown. As it is not, I hope he will continue to write his sad experience to Young People. I am sure he will get sympathy from us all.
I live opposite Middletown, which truly is a "forest city." We have a fine view of the Meriden Mountains, the Great Hills, and the Connecticut Valley, which with its noble river is considered by strangers, as well as ourselves, the most beautiful and fascinating scenery in the world.
In winter the ice-boats of the Wesleyan students, sleighs with spirited horses, and little boys and girls coasting with sleds, make our river even more picturesque than the far-famed Neva of Russia, while in summer tugs, schooners, and yachts pass each other on its surface, the sailing vessels looking like white-winged sea-birds on the water. To-day it is clear and calm, and the water looks like silver. A few days ago the ice was rushing and ploughing its way to the Sound.
Altia R. A.
Washington Court-House, Ohio.
I have a hen with seven young chickens, and it is so cold I have to keep her in a box in the kitchen. My chickens were hatched on March 28. I would like to know if any readers of Young People had any little chickens this spring hatched earlier than mine.
I sympathize with Percy McDermott. I had so many letters, after my offer of exchange was printed, that it kept me awake nights thinking where I could get arrow-heads enough to supply all the boys in the Eastern States.
If Percy McDermott and Jimmy Brown would come along, I will go with them and get Toby Tyler and his monkey, and we will all go to the Rocky Mountains.
Emmer E.
I wish to notify correspondents that I have no more coins to exchange, but I will exchange ores and minerals of different kinds, petrified wood, curiosities from the Mammoth Cave and from Colorado, Indian arrow-heads, shells, and foreign postage stamps, for all kinds of American coins.
Will B. Shober,
Cumberland, Md.
We have many ancient artificial mounds in this part of Illinois, which contain pottery, stone pipes, axes, and other things, and the Indians while here used them for burial-places, but always would say they did not know who built them, but that it was not any of their race, but another people. There are persons yet living here who talked with the Indians about the mounds before they went away, fifty years ago. These mounds appear to have been burial-places for both the people who built them and for the Indians. They certainly contain Indian relics, and they also contain many other things, such as stone axes, and oval, concave, convex, and curiously formed stones, which the Indians declare they never used. Most of the bluffs along the Illinois River contain relics, and not long since I saw a skeleton on one of the highest ones, which had become partly exposed. It was of gigantic size.
I will exchange pieces of Indian or Mound-Builders' pottery, and arrow-heads, for sea-shells and ocean curiosities.
A. W. Taylor,
Mount Sterling, Brown Co., Ill.
I would like to exchange a portion of a genuine Sioux scalp-lock, with a piece of ermine attached, given me by a Crow chief from Montana, for foreign postage stamps, especially those of Ceylon, Africa, and Brazil.
W. S. Canfield,
1224 Fourteenth St. N. W., Washington, D. C.
Detroit, Minnesota.
I have received over thirty applications for Swedish coins, and could only answer four. Those who have received no answer will please wait until I secure more coins.
Jay H. Maltby.
I am going away, and can not exchange any longer with the readers of Young People. I would request those correspondents who are still owing me a return exchange to send to me as soon as possible.
Alice E. Thorp,
P. O. Box 618, Newport, R. I.
Annie Wheeler, Danville, Virginia, notifies her correspondents that she has no more foreign stamps to exchange.
I feel very sorry for Eddie S., and some of the other little boys and girls, because they are sick, and can not run about. I wish I could send them something. I am glad they can take Young People, for it is such a beautiful paper to read.
I will exchange stamps, postmarks, pressed ferns, sand in bottles, and pretty stones and fossils, for specimens of ore, ocean curiosities, stamps, any interesting curiosity, or pieces of silk for a quilt.
Nellie Ritz Burns,
Lewistown, Mifflin Co., Penn.
I am in the same fix as Percy L. McD. I did not have many stamps to start with, and in less than a week they were all gone, and still the letters come faster than I can answer them. I have no more stamps for exchange, but I would like to exchange specimens of wood from Kansas, for wood from the Eastern States or California, or for stamps.
I have three brothers. We have lived in Kansas several years, and we like it very much here. We are surrounded by Indians, but they are peaceful and somewhat civilized. They dress much like white men. Some of them have fields, and hire white men and negroes to work for them. One family has a good piano, and the daughter is well educated, and plays nicely. They have ponies which they trade, or sell very cheap. The ponies are quite small, and very gentle.
The Indian children play ball, and shoot arrows, and race with their ponies. The bats which they play ball with are very curious. Those the big Indians use are about four feet long. They are made of hickory, and at one end the wood is bent around and tied with narrow strips of buck-skin. One throws the ball, and the others all rush to catch it in the bat, and hit a long pole. Whoever hits the pole wins the game. When they play ball they dress in Indian costume, and paint their faces, and stick feathers in their hair.
George Linscott,
Holton, Jackson Co., Kansas.
I would request correspondents to send me scraps at least two inches wide, so that I can cut a diamond of that width.
I wish correspondents would write their name and address, or at least put initials on the outside of packages, for so many letters, postal cards, and packages all come together, that often we can not tell who each particular package is from. We try to compare the handwriting, but can not always succeed. If any one who has sent me a package and received no return will let me know by a postal card, I will answer at once.
Ninon G. Hare,
Lynchburg, Harris Co., Texas.
Rome, Italy.
I am a subscriber of Young People, and I like it very much. I am a Boston boy, and have been in Europe nearly two years. I am collecting postage stamps, and would like to exchange a Greek, French, or Italian stamp for an African one.
Nattie L. Francis,
Care of Brown, Shipley, & Co.,
London, E. C., England.
I have an Indian bow which I would like to exchange for a collection of minerals. There are four arrows that go with it. Three are common arrows, and the fourth is an arrow used for shooting fish. The bow is wrapped with sinews, and is a very good shooter. It shoots about one hundred yards.
Frank Reel,
Hawk Farm, Baden P. O., St. Louis, Mo.
I will exchange eighteen "registered envelope" stamps, formerly used on registered packages and rare, a Japanese "Five Sen" stamp, and 1-cent, 2-cent, 3-cent, and 6-cent stamps of United States Treasury and Post-office departments, for any curiosities except stamps. Correspondents will please inform me by postal card what they are willing to exchange.
Horace N. Hawkins,
P. O. Box 18, Huntingdon, Carroll Co., Tenn.
Here is a very simple recipe for a beautiful yellow ink. Put a handful of hickory bark into one pint of water, and boil for about an hour. Then strain the liquid, of which there should be about a third of a pint, and add a little alum.
I have sand from the Kansas River at Topeka—the capital of Kansas and the centre of the United States—and some small shells from the Pacific coast, that I will exchange for curiosities suitable for a museum. Minerals and specimens of wood from other countries especially desired.
I will also give fifteen foreign stamps for fifty old United States stamps and envelopes. Correspondents will please mark all specimens plainly.
G. Griffin, Jun.,
Emporia, Lyon Co., Kansas.
I think Young People is just splendid. What a good lesson we boys can learn from "Toby Tyler!" I would not like to go with a circus.
The skeleton of a huge mastodon was found here this winter by some men digging a ditch. Its horns and tusks were nine feet in length. One tooth weighed six pounds, and its lower-jaw measured three feet to the point where it began to curve upward. Our geological professor said the animal measured twenty-six feet in length with the tusks.
I will exchange geological specimens of Illinois for curiosities from any other State or Territory.
Percy W. Hall,
East Lynn, Vermilion Co., Ill.
Inquisitive Joe.—The railroad you inquire about is a narrow gauge. The gauge of the Liverpool and Manchester Railroad was fixed by George Stephenson at 4 feet 8½ inches. Roads have been built 7 feet, 6 feet, 5 feet 5 inches, 5 feet, 4 feet 9 inches, 3 feet 6 inches, 3 feet 3½ inches, 3 feet, and 2 feet, but the very broad and very narrow gauges are losing favor, and 4 feet 9 inches is the standard, 6 feet being generally known as broad gauge, and 3 feet 6 inches as narrow gauge, though anything over 4 feet 9 inches is broad, and anything under is narrow.
Lodestar.—The height of the Egyptian obelisk in Central Park, New York, is 68 feet 11 inches from base to apex, its volume is 2678 cubic feet, and it weighs about 186 tons. It is about eight feet square at the base, and five feet where it assumes the shape of a little pyramid at the top. The pedestal on which the obelisk stands is 6 feet 10 inches high and about nine feet square.
E. L. H. and L. L. M.—The United States coins about which you inquire are not rare, as the coinage of the years you specify was very large. On account of their age they are sold by dealers in coins at a small advance on their face value, this advance being more or less, according to the condition of the coin.
L. C. M. S.—Wood-lizards live upon flies, bugs, and small insects of various kinds; they will also eat raw meat cut into very small pieces. They are perfectly harmless, and are quite easily tamed. It would be almost impossible to give any especial directions for taming them; like any wild creature, they can only be domesticated by careful and persistent kindness, gentle treatment, and the slow process of becoming familiar with their owner's presence. They can be kept in a box made with sides of glass or wire netting, and a piece of wire netting over the top. The floor should be covered with dirt and dried grass and leaves. It is well to put a little water in a shallow saucer into the cage, for though the lizard does not drink a great deal, he sometimes takes a bath. Lizards sometimes become very tame, and can be taught to perform many amusing tricks, though of course this depends entirely upon the patience and skill of the teacher.
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
DOUBLE ENIGMA—(To Zelotes).
In sweet-potato, not in vine.
In cheap whiskey, not in wine.
In grinning monkey, not in fool.
In turner's lathe, but not in tool.
In pantry shelf, but not in pie.
In growing corn, but not in rye.
In knight's weapon, not in lance.
The whole two useful garden plants.
Bolus.