A TINY SEED.
One May morning two green leaves
Peeping from the ground
Patty and her brother Will
In their garden found.
They a seed had planted there
Just ten days ago,
Only half believing that
It would ever grow.
"Oh, it's growed! it's growed!" they cried,
"And it soon will be,"
Will proclaimed, now full of faith,
"Like a little tree:
Then will lady-slippers come,
And they'll all be ours.
Oh, how good God is to turn
Brown seeds into flowers!"
JAPANESE WINE-FLOWERS.
BY WILLIAM ELLIOT GRIFFIS.
On both sides of the great wide street leading to Asakusa, in old Yedo, were shops full of toys of all kinds. At certain seasons of the year booths were hastily put up, and stocked with the curiosities of the season. For a few days before New-Year's one could buy ferns, lobsters, oranges, evergreens, and rice-straw festoons. In the second month appeared seeds, roots, bulbs, and gardeners' tools. Dolls and girls' toys came on in the third month, ready for the Feast of Dolls. Images of heroes, banners, toy horses, and boys' playthings, for the Feast of Flags, were out in the fifth month. Bamboo and streamers, in the seventh month, celebrated the meeting of the star-lovers. Chrysanthemums in autumn, and camellias in winter, could be bought, all having their special use and meaning. Thus throughout the different months Asakusa was gay with new things of all colors, and bustling with ten thousand people of all ages. Besides the shops and booths, a constant street fair was held by people whose counter was the pavement, and whose stock in trade, spread out on the street, must run the risk of dust, rain, and the accidents from passers-by.
Among these jolly peddlers was one Umé, a little rosy-cheeked maid of twelve years, who sold wine-flowers.
"Wine-flowers; what are they?"
If we open the boxes or paper bags sold by Umé, we see a pack of what seem to be tiny colored jackstraws or fine shavings. They are made by cutting out very thin slices of pith in the shape of men, women, birds, flowers, fishes, bats, tortoises, tools, and many other things. These are gummed, folded up, and pinched tightly, until each one looks like nothing but a shred of linen or a tiny chip of frayed wood. If you drop one of them into a bowl of hot water, it will open and unfold like a flower. They blossom slowly in cold water, but hot water makes them jump up and open at once.
Umé's blind grandfather and her mother made these wine-flowers for a living, and she went out daily and sat on the Asakusa street to sell them.
Sometimes they made "shell-surprises."
Out of a hard paste made from moss they cut the shapes of roses, camellias, lilies, daisies, etc., of real size, which they painted to a natural color. Then folding them in a ball, and squeezing them into a cockle-shell, they were ready for sale. They looked just like common white shells; but when dropped into hot water they opened at once, and the ball of gum inside, rising to the surface, blossomed into a flower of true size and tint.
"But why are they called wine-flowers?"
The reason is this. The Japanese drink their "wine" (saké or rice-beer) hot, and in tiny cups about the size of a small half orange. When one friend is about to offer the cup to another, he drops one of these pith chips on the surface of the wine. It blossoms instantly before their eyes, and is the "flower of friendship."
A GAME OF SURPRISES.
The artist Ozawa has sketched the inside of a home in Japan, where the children are merrily enjoying the game of surprises. A Japanese mother has bought a few boxes of the pith toys from Umé. They have a lacquered tub half full of warm water. Every few minutes the fat-cheeked servant-girl brings in a fresh steaming kettleful to keep it hot. They all kneel on the matting, and it being summer, they are in bare feet, which they like. The elder one of the two little girls, named O-Kin (Little Gold), has a box already half empty.
"Guess what this one is," says she to her little brother Kozo, who sits in the centre.
"It's a lily, or a pot of flowers—I know it is," cries Kozo: "I know it, because it's a long one."
O-Kin drops it. It flutters like a feather in the air, then it touches the water, squirms a moment, jumps about as if alive, unfolds, and instead of a long-stemmed flower, it is a young lady carrying a lantern, all dressed for an evening call. "Ha! ha! ha!" laugh they all.
"You didn't guess it.—You try," said O-Kin, to O-Haya (Little Wave), her sister; "it's a short one."
"I think it's either a drum or a tai," (red fish), said O-Haya, looking eagerly.
It opened slowly, and a bright red fish floated to the top and swam for a second. Its eye, mouth, and tail were perfect. "I guessed it," said O-Haya, clapping her hands.
"Look, mamma," cried Kozo, to his mother, "here are two heavenly rats [bats], but they can't fly; two of Fuji Mountain; two musŭmé [young ladies], a maple leaf, a plum blossom, a 'love-bird,' a cherry blossom, a paper swallow, and a kiku [chrysanthemum flower]. They have all opened beautifully."
Then mamma dropped in a few from her box. They were longer and finer than O-Kin's, and as they unfolded, the children screamed with delight. A man in a boat, with a pole and line, was catching a fish; a rice mortar floated alongside a wine-cup; the Mikado's crest bumped the Tycoon's; a tortoise swam; a stork unfolded its wings; a candle, a fan, a gourd, an axe, a frog, a rat, a sprig of bamboo, and pots full of many-colored flowers sprung open before their eyes. By this time the water was tinged with several colors, chiefly red.
After the fun was over, the children carefully picked out the spent tricks with a flat bit of bamboo, and spread them to dry on a sheet of white paper; but they never could be used again.
Sometimes only flower tricks are used, and then the blossoms open in all colors, until the water contains a real floating garden or "water bouquet."
DANDELION.
BY AMY ELLA BLANCHARD.
"Golden-head, Golden-head,
The sun must have kissed you."
"So he did," said Golden-head,
"Just before he went to bed."
"Golden-head, you're a white head;
The frost must have nipped you."
"No; he would not be so bold;
I am only growing old."
"Puffy-ball, Puffy-ball,
Where's the wind taking you?
I'm afraid another day
You will all be blown away."
Indian River, Florida.
My generous uncle James takes Young People for me, and as you welcome messages from your little readers, I thought I would tell you that I enjoy it very much. Then, too, you might like to know that it is a favorite in the extreme South as well as in the far West and in the North. Little folks North and little folks South have pretty much the same tastes, I reckon; and as I have been interested in the accounts which little North men give of their pets, I would like to say something of mine—a pair of egrets.
My father brought them from a heronry not many miles from the great Okeechobee Lake. Then they were very young, and so fat that their long, awkward legs would not sustain their weight. Now they are three months old, and stand about two feet high. Their plumage is white as snow, and their legs and long beak a bright orange-color. Their eyes are yellowish-gray, and very keen and beautiful.
I feed them mostly on fish or fresh meat, but in an extremity they will not disdain a piece of salt pork. They are creatures of approved valor, and have vanquished all our dogs, as well as the cocks in the poultry-yard. When attacking they rush forward with loud cries and flapping wings, well calculated to frighten their adversaries, and having long necks, they thrust their sharp beaks like javelins. When threatened by hawks, they squat closely to the earth, and present their beaks somewhat as the French soldiers did their bayonets when assailed by the terrible Mamelukes in Egypt. One night lately an opossum thought to make a meal of them, but they defended themselves with such vigor that the robber scampered off just as my father appeared to succor them.
They are not vicious toward persons, although they sometimes try to bully people into feeding them when begging does not avail. Young egrets are a long time learning how to fly, and are meanwhile carefully attended by their parents. The mother bird fishes industriously to feed the whole family, while her plumed mate stands guard at the nest, for their home is in wild regions, where enemies of many kinds abound. The famous chief Osceola used egret plumes to adorn his turban.
John Calhoun J.
Cincinnati, Ohio.
I wish to tell you about two pet deer I had, Dolly and Pet. They were very tame, and if I was eating anything, they would come up to me and put their fore-feet on my knees, as if to beg for a piece. They had a very large cage, and I used to go in and play with them. I am eleven years old.
I. B.
Freeport, Illinois.
I have taken Young People from the first number, and I read all the letters in the Post-office Box. I like to read about the pets. Papa gave me a calf for a pet. It is red and white, and is now two weeks old. I do not like to pet it much, because it always wants to put its nose on me, and I don't like that, for its nose is always wet. Papa says if it was dry, the calf would be sick. I have a water-spaniel—a liver-colored, curly fellow. Papa got him for me when I was three years old, and I have had him eight years, so you can tell how old I am. I have twenty-two chickens. Some are light Brahmas, and some golden Seabright Bantams.
Willie B. B.
Litchfield, Illinois.
I like Young People, and my papa buys it for me every week. I can not read well yet, so mamma reads the stories and little letters to me. I have a pet dog one year old. When I hold up a bit of cake—which he likes better than anything else—and say, "Do you want it?" he will bark and jump around lively. His name is Chub. I have Gyp (my cat), a canary, and six pet chickens. I had a turtle, but it went out on the porch one day, and fell off, and walked away. I felt so badly to lose it! I am seven years old.
Lulu M. S.
Harper, Iowa.
I am seven years old. I live in a town which was named for the Harper Brothers, and as I was the first child born here, I was named Harper. I thank you for Young People. My papa says the Harper Brothers have done a great deal of good for the American people, and I guess he knows, for he reads a great deal. I have two brothers and a sister older than I am, and we all have great fun with the Wiggles and Misfits.
Harper R.
Lykens, Pennsylvania.
I am ten years old, and I have two younger sisters—Bertha and Alice. Bertha is eight, and Alice will be five on the Fourth of July. Every week when papa brings home Young People Alice asks if there is any more of "Biddy O'Dolan" in it. We all liked that story very much. We live in the coal regions, within sight of the breaker, and the coal-dirt banks that look like mountains. I have never been down the slope—I am afraid—but I have stood at the top, and seen the empty cars go down and the full ones come up. I studied algebra this winter, and went as far as cube root. I have house plants for my pets, and they are in full bloom.
May B.
Hamilton, Ohio.
I live in the Buckeye State, which is so called from the buckeye-tree, which grows native in its soil. This tree annually produces a prolific supply of hazel-colored nuts with smooth shells, about the size of a buck's eye. Buckeye boys use them for marbles, and are very proud of their namesake.
G. C. M.
Eminence, Kentucky.
When we lived in Texas last year papa gave my brother and me a little pony. He was so small we called him Nickel. We had to take the lambs to water every day, and herd them. When we came North, papa sent Nickel to Michigan, together with a hundred other ponies, and a gentleman there bought him for his little girl. We would like to hear from Nickel.
Georgie B. H.
Competine, Iowa.
My brothers and I take Young People, and we all help pay for it. We like to draw the Wiggles, and we had ever so much fun making Misfits. Grandma lives with us, and knits all of our stockings, although she is eighty-five years old. I went to school last winter, but there is no school to go to now, and mamma teaches me at home. I am nine years old.
Carrie E. I.
Competine, Iowa.
I am eleven years old. We have forty hives of bees. Last summer I hived several swarms myself. Papa says after this year he is going to let my brother and me take all the care of the bees, and we are going to sell honey enough to pay for Young People next year. We had one hundred and nine hogs, but papa sold forty-five last week. The story of "Puck and Blossom" is the best of all.
Joseph C. I.
Sandusky, Ohio.
Now that dandelions are in bloom, I would like to describe a very amusing little trick which may be performed with a long dandelion stem, a pin, and a small green currant. Stick the pin half its length through the centre of the currant; then place the currant on the end of the stem, letting the pin down part way into the tube; now hold the stem perpendicularly, and blow into it gently. If skillfully done, the currant will revolve, suspended in the air.
C. C.
Macomb, Illinois, April 29, 1880.
I wish to tell Wroton K. that I have heard whippoor-wills several times, and have seen young rabbits about half grown. Most of the trees are in blossom here, but it is growing cold now, and may injure the fruit crop, which is very abundant here. It snowed slightly on the 19th of April.
"Zenobia."
Washington, D. C.
I am a little girl twelve years old. I have the hip-disease, and have to lie down all the time, but I have so many things to amuse me that I don't mind it much. I have a lounge, and it is pushed up to the window, so I can look out. I have two canaries—Dick and Beauty. I have tried to tame them, but do not know how. I wish some little girl could tell me how to do it.
"Dot."
Springfield, Massachusetts.
I am nine years old. I have a little sister Bessie. We do not go out to school, but have had a governess one year. I love to read the pet letters in Young People. I have three—a dog named Trump, that is a hunting dog, and often goes out with my papa, who is very fond of shooting; some little white chickens; and a canary named "Little Brown Jug."
May A. V.
New York City.
It was my birthday yesterday, and my sister gave me Young People for a present. I like to read the letters from children, and to try to find out the puzzles. I have a brown squirrel, and have tried to tame it, but can not. I wish you would tell me how. I would like to write about my dolls, but must not make my letter too long. I am eight years old.
Tessie H.
The only rules for taming birds, squirrels, or any other little creatures, are those consisting of patience, perseverance, and kindness.
Maryville, East Tennessee.
I have two pets—a beautiful little white English rabbit with pink eyes, and a little Chester pig. I have no sister, but a little brother three years old. I am seven. Mamma always reads all the children's letters in Young People's Post-office to me.
Mason A. B.
Concordia Parish, Louisiana.
I don't know how to write very well, for I have never been to school, although I am eight years old. Papa and mamma teach me at home. I thought you might like to hear from a little boy in Louisiana, who likes Harper's Young People very much. I read it aloud to little Brother Josie, and then papa mails it to Brother Willie, who is at school in Vidalia, twenty-five miles away. You would be pleased to hear how sweetly Josie, who is four years old, can repeat many of the little poems in Young People. Dew-berries are ripe now, and I wish I could send you a large bouquet of our flowers. I live on a large cotton plantation. Our front gate is only a few yards from the bank of the Mississippi River, so we have a fine view of the steamboats as they pass. We have a real pretty yard to play in, and a nice swing. Our pets are three beautiful cats—Dick, Spot, and Wesley. I love Dick dearly, for he is just my age, and we grew up together. I am eight years old. Mamma calls me her little flower boy, but my "sure-enough" name is
David Austin C.
North Granville, New York.
We are not sisters, but we are together almost as much as if we were. We each have a pet. One is a little English pug named Pickles, and the other a cunning little Maltese and white kitten, and we call her Pinafore. It is very pretty in this little village where we live in the summer. There is a very fine military school here, and when it is warm enough for the cadets to drill on the parade-ground, it makes it very pleasant.
Mamie B. and Gussie P.
Monticello, Wisconsin.
I have read all the letters from boys and girls in Young People, and I would like to tell them about my pets. I have two pet cats. One is a Maltese, and I call her Nellie; the other is an old gray cat named Puss. She has five little kittens, and they are so cunning. I have a pet hen named Hannah. She had two little chicks, but they died. Uncle George lives with us, and he has a hound named Fanny. She is a brown beauty, and a great pet. I have two little sisters. Maud has golden curls, and Ethel has little brown curls. They are the dearest little pets I have.
G. Nathan E.
Brooklyn, New York.
Papa read me about Joseph E. G.'s goat Minnie, and I think mine is just as cunning. His name is Sam, and he has no horns. I know he loves me, for he follows me all around. I had two rabbits called Jennie and Baby. Sam and Jennie used to have good fun chasing each other around the yard playing tag. Sam and I are going to Aunt Louise's farm next week. Goats eat hay and oats in the winter, and they eat all the clothes on the wash-line they can reach, too.
Harry D.
Woonsocket, Rhode Island.
I am ten years old, and I have a bird named Dick, seven years old. If any one of the family goes near its cage, it spreads its wings and opens its mouth and scolds. I have a pet cat named Ned, and when I buy catnip for him he tears open the paper.
Laura E. M.
Pocahontas Centre, Iowa.
I used to live on a farm before I came here. I have no brothers or sisters, but I have two dogs, Lassie and Peto. Peto is a splendid retriever. I have a pet cat named Belle, and she has two cunning kittens. Yesterday my grandpa sent me a bow and arrows all the way from Michigan, where I used to live. I study natural history in school, and like it the best of all my lessons. I am almost nine years old.
Louie B. K.
Fort Plain, New York.
I would like to tell Willie L. B. that the mounds were made by people who lived in our land before the red man came. They are now known as the mound-builders. There were also people who made their houses in cliffs.
N. B. G.
There is really nothing known of the history of the mound-builders and cliff-dwellers, who were early inhabitants of our country. Their mounds and their dwellings remain, but they are silent monuments of an extinct people.
If Genevieve will give her address, I will exchange pressed flowers with her when ours blossom. I spoke "Fair Play," the poem in Young People No. 12, in school last Friday.
Addie Goodnow.
Albion, New York.
Della Smith, of Keyport, New Jersey, also wishes the address of Genevieve for the purpose of exchanging pressed flowers. This little California girl has not yet favored us with her address, but she has no doubt sent it to some among the many inquirers for her. Probably any little girl desiring to exchange pressed flowers with Genevieve would be equally well pleased to do so with any other little girl of California or other portions of the far West.
May S.—You will find directions for treatment of moulting birds in Post-office Box No. 19.
William A.—About ten years since a law was passed by the Spanish government that an entire new set of postage stamps should be issued every year. This law applies not alone to Spain, but also to all its colonies. A plausible reason for such action is the great prevalence of counterfeits intended to defraud the government.
Frank A.—An answer to your question respecting barbers' poles is given in Post-office Box No. 29. The blue is often added to the red and white by barbers in the United States for a very obvious reason.—For answer to your other question, see Post-office Box No. 15.
"Bob."—If the chest you inquire about was to be opened four hundred years after the death of the famous sculptor, the time has not yet arrived, as he died about 1563, only a little more than three hundred years ago.
David R. M.—The specimen you send appears like common gravel mixed with fibres of last year's leaves. The white glistening bits are quartz. If there were any shells, they were broken past recognition before reaching us.
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
HOUR-GLASS PUZZLE.
Parts by which things are held. Combs for wool. A rug. In high. A morass. A pile of sheaves. Parts of a sledge. Centrals read downward spell a warlike horseman.
R. D.