THE END.
A LITTLE FLOWER MISSIONARY.
[MOWING.]
Into the fields both young and old
With gay hearts went:
The pleasant fields, all green and gold,
All flowers and scent.
And first among them old man Mack,
With his two grandsons, Harry and Jack—
Two eager boys whose feet kept time
In restless fashion to this rhyme:
Sharpen the scythe and bend the back,
Swing the arm for an even track;
Through daisy blooms and nodding grass
Straight and clean must the mower pass.
There are tasks that boys must learn, not found
In any book—
Tasks on the harvest and haying ground,
By wood and brook.
When I was young but few could bring
Into the field a cleaner swing;
But you must take my place to-day,
Cut the grass, and scatter the hay.
So sharpen the scythe and bend the back,
Swing the arm for an even track;
Through daisy blooms and nodding grass
Straight and clean must the mower pass.
Straight and clean is the only way—
You'll find that out—
In other things than cutting hay,
I make no doubt.
So be sure through the nodding grass
Straight and clean with your scythe to pass;
It is far better than any play
To mow the grass and to toss the hay.
So sharpen the scythe and bend the back,
Swing the arm for an even track;
Through daisy blooms and nodding grass
Straight and clean must the mower pass.
"STRAIGHT AND CLEAN IS THE ONLY WAY."
Courbevoie (Seine), Paris.
I am a little girl five years old, named Emma. I have lived over a year in France with papa and mamma and my little sister, although we were all born in America. Our home is on the beautiful river Seine, near Paris.
I have already crossed the great Atlantic Ocean three times. My grandpa in America has taken Harper's Young People for me since the first number, and my mamma reads many of the stories to us. I have asked mamma to write and tell you some of the sights of every-day life in France. I can neither read nor write myself, but I will tell mamma what to write about, and she will express it better than I could. The French people enjoy living out-of-doors. If they have only a tiny garden no larger than some of our grass-plots in America, they buy an iron table, chairs enough for the family, and perhaps two or three others for relatives or friends who may come to take a meal with them, and then they eat out-of-doors, enjoying themselves around these little tables in the garden more than they would staying in the house.
They are easily pleased, these French people, in the country. In the summer they have many charming fêtes. Every little town or village in France has, at some time during the warm weather, a fête. A convenient piece of land is taken possession of or else rented by the authorities in charge of the fête. They sub-let small portions of the land just large enough for each merchant to erect a table upon, like our tables at fairs in America. The merchants bring their families with them, for the fête lasts several days. They sleep in the large wagons in which they bring their articles for sale, and they set up little stoves, each with a long pipe attached, and there the women cook their meals. The "draught" out-doors is sometimes very troublesome, and the poor women have hard times to prepare their dinners. Each merchant spreads out his array of goods on his table in as tempting a manner as possible, and over each table is arranged a little shed to protect the goods in case of rain.
At these fêtes in the country one meets all the world. There are the doctors, the lawyers, and all the grand people, as much amused and pleased as the laborer in his blue blouse. Besides the tables of goods, there are many funny things to make people laugh. There are balloons sent up in the air—not great balls shaped like immense pears, but made to represent men, women, and little boys and girls. These are colored to show their faces and hair, their bright waists, skirts, or trousers, and then they are inflated with gas and sent off in the air. They look very funny as they float away higher than the houses and trees, like great fat men, women, and children. I have been at fêtes with my mamma, and have seen gentlemen and ladies laughing as merrily as the peasants at these droll balloons. Sometimes, when not properly inflated, they come tumbling down, and then the spectators fairly scream with delight.
At the fêtes, too, they have odd-looking circus tents, where for fifty centimes (ten cents of American money) one can see the poorest circus shows imaginable. There are queer views of all kinds—fires, murders, and earthquakes. These exhibitions may be seen for about three cents.
The other day we saw at a fête a sort of panoramic view of what goes on in a person's stomach after eating salt pork sent from America. The French government is opposed to receiving salt or smoked pork from America, because it is said that trichinæ have been discovered in it. In this exhibition we were shown the stomach as it should be, and the stomach after its owner had eaten American pork. The effect was very startling, the various organs and intestines twisting about in the most bewildering manner possible.
They have wooden horses with women's heads of different nationalities, French, German, African, and Russian. These wooden horses go round very rapidly, a real horse turning the machinery which sets them in motion. You can have a nice ride for two cents, to the music of a hand-organ.
But I shall weary you if I tell you any more. Perhaps I will write again, and describe more of the life of the people who dwell in sunny France.
A. F. H.
Fresno City, California.
I want to tell you about my little rooster. He is a very pretty brown color, so we call him Brownie; and one of the story-books says that Brownies used to be good to little babies, and that's another reason why we gave him the name. Now I'll tell you what he did to deserve being named after a Brownie. My mamma bought him to eat; but he got away, and, the next day here he came fussing and scratching with five baby chicks—three of them little downy fellows, the other two a little older—with their little tails and wings just growing. He took the best care of those chickens. It was funny to see him. He was only just broiling size himself, but he would ruffle up and try to fight big hens if they came too near. He didn't know how to brood over his babies, but he would sit down and let them snuggle under his wings and feathers the best way they could. He doesn't know how to cluck, either; but he makes his little rooster sounds in the nicest, softest little voice you ever heard. There's one old hen—old Graywhack we call her, because she's gray and whacks all the other chickens—and she's so cross that all the rest are afraid of her, and run away, cocks and all, when she comes up to them. But Brownie doesn't; he bustles up and makes almost as much fuss as she does, and this always, though he gets a whack now and then.
His biggest chicks are big enough to take care of themselves now, and they are so pretty, both little black hens, and we call them Nig and Blackie. The cats killed one while it was little, but he still has two, and takes as good care of them as ever. He is learning to crow first-rate now, though sometimes he squawks awfully.
Mamma reads me all the stories every week, but I like "Toby Tyler" best of all, and I think the man who shot Mr. Stubbs ought to have been very sorry.
My mamma wrote this for me.
Maynard D. (6 years old).
I have twenty-five different kinds of birds' wings that I would like to exchange for birds' wings from Florida or California. Also an Indian flint arrow-head and spear-head, iron, copper, and gold ore, white sand from Galveston Bar, Texas, gray sand from Cape Hatteras, sea-shells, barnacles from a wreck, fresh-water shells, etc.; would like to exchange for other minerals, ores, fossils, and petrifactions. Write before exchanging.
I have never walked, being paralyzed in my lower limbs from birth, yet I manage to get around. I have a team of white goats, Billy and Bob. With them I go gunning, and travel sometimes five or six miles. I enjoy fishing and boat-riding. I built myself a little skiff, and called her Little Eva, and in this I sail out of the Brandywine into the broad waters of the Delaware, and am often gone for hours. I have lots of fun, although I never took a step in my life. I am always jolly. I have served papers for three years, and make from three to four dollars a week. I did not lose a day last winter; no matter how cold or snowy, my customers would always know that Johnny and his well-known team would be faithful. I will send a photograph of myself and team to editor if desired.
J. S. Jefferis,
1502 Walnut St., Wilmington, Del.
The picture you give of a brave sunny disposition, which makes the best of things, instead of pining and fretting, is a very attractive one. We hardly need the photograph of yourself and your sturdy team, because your pen has made us see you quite plainly. Still, if you send the photograph, we will be glad to look at it, and it shall be given a place of honor at the head-quarters of the Post-office Box. Never to have taken a step in one's life seems like a great hardship, but instead of moping about it, you have resolved to be as busy, useful, and happy as you can. No wonder your customers wait until you are ready to come along to serve the papers. We are glad you can go for a sail in the skiff, and that you have so many pleasures and resources.
But, Johnny, we are sorry that you shoot the birds, and we fear you do, or else how have you collected so many birds' wings? We wish the little girls who read Our Post-office Box would decide that when they grow up they would wear no wings nor plumes in their hats, and that the boys would all resolve to be bird protectors. If any who read your letter are possessed of pretty feathers or wings, we shall not object to their exchanging with you, but we do not want to think that any poor birds will be deprived of their lives, on purpose, because of this. We are glad to print your letter, birds' wings and all, on account of its manliness, and the lesson it gives us to accept the situation, whatever it is, and do our duty in it cheerfully.
Bedford, Ohio.
I have had Young People from the first, and have all the numbers except two or three. I liked "Toby Tyler" very much, and if the new story shall be as nice as that was, I for one will be satisfied. I have read a number of Jimmy Brown's stories at my school, and they make everybody laugh. The one about the pig was very funny.
I have a very pretty kitten, but I can not decide what its real name is, for papa calls it one name, mamma another, my sister something else, and I something else still; but it answers to the name Kitten whoever calls. Good-by for this time.
Nettie E. H.
New York City.
I am so glad to get my dear little paper every week. I liked "The Moral Pirates" ever so much, and "The Cruise of the 'Ghost'" is splendid. But dear little Toby Tyler was best of all. I wish we could hear more about him.
Madie L. F.
I take Young People from a news dealer in Jacksonville. I like "Toby Tyler" and "The Cruise of the 'Ghost'" the best of all the stories.
I live on an orange grove on the St. Johns River. I read the story of Coachy in No. 50, and the letter of Bessie Rathbun in No. 87. I have a Coachy that will eat out of my hand. My brother had one, but she ran away, and we never could find her. We have a little dog named Jetty. She is black and tan. I have a Coachy rooster also.
My little brother has a yellow hen that we raised, and he calls her Greeny. Whenever he tries to catch her, she stops right still till he has her. She always pecks anything he is eating. She used to lay in the house, but she don't now, because we won't let her.
I have a large copper cent of 1818 and one of 1819; also, some Florida moss, water from the St. Johns, and an ounce of soil. I will exchange any of these things for foreign stamps, coins, Indian relics, and curiosities of any kind.
F. C. Sawyer, Beauclerc Bluff, Fla.
Wyoming, Illinois.
This is my second letter to Harper's Young People. I have had my first volume of Young People bound into a book, and I intend to bind every volume.
I liked "Mildred's Bargain," "Toby Tyler," and "Susie Kingman's Decision" very much, and also think "Aunt Ruth's Temptation" and "The Cruise of the 'Ghost'" very good.
Jimmy Brown's stories are very funny. I am very much interested in the colored school at Woodside, North Carolina, and hope to send the children some books.
Hattie G. S.
Woodside (near Lincolnton), North Carolina.
Kind Friends and Children,—The mail on Saturday, July 16, brought me packages from David Shipman and Fred Tocque, Brooklyn, N. Y., John W. Slattern, New York city, and Belle Wallace, Luzerne, N. Y. Many, many thanks for the books you have sent; thanks, too, for the kind notes and letters that some of you wrote. It would give me great pleasure to see you all, and talk with you. The old numbers of Young People will all be new to these children. Dear Fred and Belle's lesson papers are very nice; and oh, how we all wished you could have seen our happy scholars on Sunday, with new books and the bright pretty cards! My children help to teach them, and they were happy too, and were particularly delighted at Pete's little Leonard with a Golden ABC primer; the little fellow almost danced for joy. Uncle Pete was much pleased with the appeal in Young People; and when my little daughter read it to him, he kept saying, "Dot's ez-ac-er-ly so," with his eyes rolled up so that you could see only the whites, as he always does when very happy.
We hope, from the books that have already come, that the school-house and organ will come too. We want to paint the names of all of you who help, inside the house. It will seem that you are sharing in the good work if your names are in view, and it may be that in the days to come some of you may find your way to this out-of-the-world place, and see the fruits of the dimes you are now saving.
Since I wrote the above, four little packages have come—two unmarked, one from Mary O'Neil, Rochester, N. Y., and one from N. J. Logan, Jun., Logan's Ferry, Penn. Thanks again for kind wishes and helping hands. Thanks, too, to the mamma who wrote that sweet letter, and who used to live not so very far away from here. Pete's Ida is so very happy with a new reader and a "sho'-'nuff" copy-book, as she calls it.
Good-by, dears, for this time.
(Mrs.) Alice Richardson.
Newburgh, New York.
I have taken Young People since the twenty-third number. I am eleven years old, and began going to school when I was seven, and in the last two years I have not missed a single day. I was promoted to the Fifth Reader the last term. I read "Studying Wasps," from Young People, to my class, and they were very much amused. I have had very good teachers, and love them dearly. I have joined the Trinity M. E. Church, and go to Sunday-school. My pastor is the Rev. W. N. Searles, formerly of New York. I have an excellent Sunday-school teacher, and I try to remember what I am taught.
Albert J. B.