II.

Business, so far as Johnny and Jimmy were concerned, was almost entirely neglected for two weeks after Katy was carried to the hospital. If they sold any papers, it was only sufficient to pay Mother Brown for their board, and nearly all their time was spent in remaining where they could look at the gloomy walls of the building in which Katy yet remained.

Some of their friends in the newspaper business had attempted to make sport of them for spending so much of their time simply looking at the walls of a hospital; but the light in Johnny's eyes had warned them to stop, and Jimmy had said, quietly, "We stay round here 'cause it would make Katy feel good if she knew it."

Fully repaid for the long hours of watching by the knowledge that their being there would please their friend if she could know it, the two remained day after day, and far into each night, until the time came when they were actually startled by the news that in another week, if nothing happened to her, Katy would leave the hospital.

This good news came to them so suddenly that they were almost as stupefied as they had been when the accident happened; but when they did fully realize all the happiness contained in that announcement, they gave vent to their joy in such extravagant antics that the old porter, who chanced to see them, declared it to be his solemn belief that they were "a couple of ijuts."

"Now what'll we do to show Katy how glad we are?" asked Johnny, when, breathless from the severe exercise, they seated themselves on the curb-stone to talk the matter over. "We've got to do somethin', you know, an' what shall it be?"

Jimmy rubbed his chin vigorously, as if to call forth his most brilliant ideas, and after an unusually long pause, replied, "I'll tell you jest what we'll do: we'll scurry 'round an' get money enough to buy her one of the stunnin'est dresses we can find, an' we'll carry it up to her the day before she comes out."

It certainly seemed as if that idea was an inspiration, and Johnny was so anxious to carry it into execution that he urged his friend along, on the way down town to purchase a stock of papers, at the most furious rate of speed.

They were not just certain how much money would be required to carry out their plan, but when they had gotten together a fund of two dollars and sixty cents, they were certain they could purchase almost any dress that was displayed in the shop windows, and have enough left not only to buy bracelets, but anything else in the jewelry line that they might chance to fancy.

THE BOYS TRYING TO SELECT A DRESS FOR KATY.

During one entire forenoon they went from one to another of the largest stores in the city, peering in at the windows at the ready-made dresses displayed, and not quite able to make up their minds which to choose. The greater number of the garments appeared to be too large, while none of them were quite bright enough in colors to suit them exactly.

"I'll tell you what it is," said Jimmy, after he had rubbed his chin harder than usual in front of a delicate party dress of pink and white silk with an enormous train, and had decided that it was not brilliant enough in color to please them, "we'd better go to Bob Spratt's mother, an' get her to come out with us to buy it. She'd know best what Katy'd like."

"I'm afraid that's what we'll have to do," said Johnny, with a sigh, fully convinced of the hopelessness of their succeeding unaided in their task. "I don't see how folks get along that have to buy more'n one dress a year; it must take 'em 'bout all their time pickin' 'em out."

"I s'pose they get kinder used to it, an' know jest what they want," said Jimmy, with an air of wisdom; and then, with just a shade of envy toward those particularly fortunate people who know exactly what to purchase, the newspaper merchant walked resolutely away from the party-dress which he was convinced was not beautiful enough for Katy to wear while selling pins on the street.

Mrs. Spratt was found, according to her way of expressing it, at her old established place of business, on the corner of Vesey Street, where she drove a flourishing trade in jackknives, candy, and other such necessary articles.

Never before had either of them doubted Mrs. Spratt's wisdom and superior judgment; but when she boldly declared that a silk dress could not be purchased for two dollars and sixty cents, they began to have suspicions that she was not the wise woman they had always believed her to be. Those suspicions became a certainty when she added that even if they could afford to buy such dresses as they had seen, they would not be suitable for Katy to wear while plying her trade on the street.

It was not until after they had withdrawn to a convenient distance, and there discussed the question of Mrs. Spratt's mental condition for fully ten minutes, that they finally decided to ask her just what she thought would be suitable for a dress for Katy, and within their means.

Even if Mrs. Spratt was not altogether right in her mind, and even if she did have ridiculous ideas regarding color, she spoke just as if she believed what she said when she told the boys that they could buy some pretty, plain material, sufficient for a dress for Katy, for about a dollar and a quarter, while with another dollar they could hire Mrs. Isaacs to make it for them in the latest style.

Several more strictly private consultations between the partners were necessary before they could make up their minds to trust to Mrs. Spratt's taste and honesty in buying the dress, and then they placed the entire matter in her hands, she generously offering to purchase the goods that very afternoon, providing they would care for her stand while she was away.

The boys had plenty of time in which to discuss the matter in all its bearings while Mrs. Spratt was attending to the important business. It was with deep sorrow that they admitted to each other that if the dress was to cost two dollars and a quarter, it would be almost impossible for them to buy any very large bracelets with the remaining thirty-five cents.

It was a disappointment that caused Jimmy to rub his chin until it was very red; but he bore up under the sorrow like a philosopher, his active mind presenting another plan that seemed quite as brilliant as the first.

"Johnny!" he cried, as he started up suddenly, at great danger of overturning Mrs. Spratt's rather frail "old established place of business."

"Wot?" asked Master Davis, moodily, for the impossibility of buying the bracelets weighed heavily on his mind.

"Why can't we earn a little more money, an' the day Katy comes out of the hospital, take her somewheres for a good time, jest like reg'lar folks do?"

"Cricky!" exclaimed Johnny; and by that expressive word Jimmy knew that he was impressed with the idea.

"I know a feller what carries 'round nuts an' candy on one of the Coney Island boats, an' jest as likely as not he could fix it for us so we could go down for half price. How Katy's eyes would stick out when she got down there! Why, she'd jest roll over in the sand, she'd be so tickled."

"Then good-by dress," said Johnny, feeling actually relieved that he had been able to find some fault with Jimmy's plan, for he was almost jealous of his partner's active brain.

"Well, of course I don't mean that she would really roll over if she had the dress on," said Jimmy, quickly, conscious that he had colored his picture a trifle too high, "but I mean she'd feel good enough to do it."

"When could we find that feller on the steamboat?" asked Johnny, anxious to settle all the details of this very brilliant scheme at once.

"I guess we'd see him if we went down on the pier an' waited till his boat come in."

"Then we'll go jest as soon as Mrs. Spratt comes back."

Johnny was not hindered very long by the absence of the owner of the stand, for in a few moments afterward she returned, flushed and heated by her unusual exertion, but wearing a triumphant look.

"I bought it," she said, as she tried unsuccessfully to fan herself with one of her largest combs, "an' I thought I'd save time by carryin' it right over to Mrs. Isaacs. But I brought a piece to show you what it is like," she added, quickly, as she saw a look of disappointment come over the boys' faces.

The goods was not exactly what they would have chosen, for it seemed much too sober in color, and not "shiny enough," as Jimmy said; but it was a soft, rather thin piece of blue material, which would make a very becoming dress for "their girl."

"I got it for twelve cents a yard," said Mrs. Spratt, in a tone of triumph, "an' I made the man throw in as much as ten inches extra, which will give her a good dress pattern. Then I bought the buttons an' the trimmings for twenty cents more, an' Mrs. Isaacs will find the thread, an' make it for a dollar. It'll be as handsome a dress as you could get anywhere for two dollars an' forty cents, an' a good deal better than Katy ever had before."

Mrs. Isaacs had promised to have the garment ready the day before Katy was to come from the hospital, and this most important business having been attended to, the boys started out in search of their friend the employé on the Coney Island boat.

The steamer which Ikey Moses graced with his presence and particularly valuable services was not at the pier when the boys arrived there; but what did two or three hours of waiting amount to when such an end was to be gained? Absolutely nothing, so they thought, as they loitered around the dock until, two hours later, the steamer arrived.

Ikey was on board, and in particularly good humor, having made twenty cents extra that day on a private speculation in sassafras bark. And being intrusted with his friends' secret, after he had solemnly crossed his throat never to divulge it, he made of the question of getting tickets at half price a very simple matter. In fact, he was quite certain he could get tickets for nothing, and he promised to use all his great influence in their behalf, providing they would pay him ten cents in case he was successful.

As may be imagined, the boys readily agreed to do this, and Johnny even generously promised that in case Ikey succeeded, they would give him all their custom on the passage. This latter consideration was not a weighty one with Master Moses, for, since his employer was the only one who had eatables to sell on the boat, and since he was the only clerk, the boys would be obliged to deal with him or go hungry.

All the details having thus been arranged, it only remained for the boys to work industriously to procure the necessary funds.

Business was not remarkably good during the four days that intervened before Katy's time in the hospital had expired; but they made enough to pay Mother Brown for their board, and then have a cash capital of one dollar on hand.

Ikey had succeeded in getting for them free passes, and they had paid him the amount agreed upon. The dress had been finished, and on the evening before Katy was to leave the hospital they carried it up to be sent in to her, in order, as Jimmy said, "that they might jest knock her eye out before she was stunned by the idea of the excursion."

"Tell her Jim an' John sent it in to her," said the latter, as he handed the bundle to the porter, "an' that we want her to be all ready when we come up here for her at nine o'clock to-morrow mornin'."

"That'll fix her," said Jimmy, triumphantly, as they left the hospital; and during the remainder of that evening they enjoyed in anticipation the royal time they were to have next day when they took "their girl" on her first excursion.

[to be continued.]

With gun upon his shoulder, Sir Beetle hunting goes,
There is nothing in the larder, for a dreadful wind arose;
It blew their cottage over, and the rain began to beat,
They couldn't find their overshoes, or anything to eat.
But Mrs. Beetle's thankful that after such a storm
She has still a silk umbrella, and a fire to keep her warm.
Back from the forest we're bringing our sheaves—
Armfuls of posies and bright Autumn leaves;
Happy are we, though the chill wind may blow,
The herald of Winter in garments of snow.
Oh, what a host of playmates has little Johnny Grey!
He says that Puss and Rover know everything we say;
And that the birds and squirrels always understand;
So he's talking to the beetle that is crawling on his hand.
Mamma must work the long, long day,
While I have lessons to learn and say;
But Baby Blue Eyes, so bright and gay,
Has nothing to do but laugh and play,
Till the Sand Man works his wonderful charms,
When he goes to sleep in somebody's arms.

Many of you will be very glad to hear again from Mrs. Richardson, whose work among the poor people at Lincolnton has interested you very much. For the information of new subscribers we will state that this lady has, for several years, been trying to make the lives of the colored people around her brighter and happier.

She began by teaching the children of Uncle Pete, her faithful friend and servant, and once her slave. At present she is giving religious and other instruction to a great many children and young people, and through her self-denying efforts a little chapel has been built, where they worship on Sundays.

The little readers of Young People have assisted Mrs. Richardson by sending books, toys, and cast-off clothing to her for the use of her protégées:

Woodside (near Lincolnton), North Carolina.

My dear young Friends,—I have not written to you very often lately. The Post-office Box is always so full of interesting letters that I felt that it would be an imposition in me to take up space in it very often. Then, too, there has been nothing very interesting to tell you. The chapel is up (not yet finished, but covered), the floor laid, windows in (they look so pretty!), and the pews made; we can use it, though the door and a good deal of work is yet to be done. The chapel stands in a grove of pines and weeping-oaks. The branches of these oaks droop almost to the ground, and are very graceful and pretty, besides making delightful horses for the children to ride. You all, I guess, know just how far to creep up the limb, and then spring to make it go, and ride delightfully among the branches.

I know you will be glad to know that the school has gone on regularly and well since it first began. The scholars have all improved very much; those who were learning their letters last summer are now using Second Readers. A great number of them are reading in the Testament—very poor reading in many cases, spelling many words, but still we find, with the explanations we give them as we go on, that going through the Gospels they understand a great deal of it. We feel that it must do them good. When they came they did not know anything of prayer; only three knew "Now I lay me." Now they all know that and the Lord's Prayer, almost all the Creed, and the Ten Commandments.

Did I write you—no, I know I have not, for it was only a few weeks ago—that some kind, very kind, persons sent me an organ? I wish they could know and see the pleasure it gives us all. The scholars seem so delighted to sing that last Sunday we let them try chanting a psalm we had been reading, and they learned it very quickly. Then we tried the Creed and the Lord's Prayer to a tune in the choral service; that they did beautifully, all of them, even the tiny children, and all of them (over sixty) singing as with one voice, they naturally made a swell on the Amen that was truly beautiful. They were so happy singing these things over and over with the hymns they know, saying always, "Please, ma'am, one time more!" "Abide with me" they sing very well. "Jerusalem the Golden" is a great favorite too. When we thought we must stop, they begged so just to sing everything over once more that we did it, and found when we came home that we had been three hours at Sunday-school and singing. Two boys, or men, carry the little organ up there, and back again when we are done. We hope to have the door and lock this week.

I would like very much to have a few primers, and also some readers and copy-books and pencils; there are many of them so anxious to learn to write. A few slates were sent—most of them broken a good deal in coming—but their copies and writing get rubbed out, so they do not get on very well with them.

Oh, I do so wish you could be here and see how happy they are in Sunday-school, and in the singing after! My husband says they won't be any happier in paradise than they were last Sunday afternoon. Their black faces were filled with ecstasy, and we were almost as happy, seeing them so delighted. There are three children to be baptized next Sunday, when we will have service and a sermon after Sunday-school.

I find they are counting the weeks already to Christmas. There are some little ones and babies the mothers have to bring, so we shall have to give them something. Presents for seventy! We will do all we can, but can not make a tree for so many unless we have help. Remember, in sending, that things you would not care for will delight them. Clothes you would think worn out will please them, and make them warm and comfortable; ribbons, etc., too much soiled for you to use will please them as well as new; shawls, no matter if old and faded, anything warm, will be of great service; quilt patches, needles, and thread—in fact, anything and everything will be of use in making a tree for them. They all are very, very fond of candy.

One lady will give me some paper to help make cornucopias; that is all the help I know of yet for Christmas. Christmas is yet a long time off to you young people, but when one grows older the weeks just fly away, and Christmas always comes before we get ready for it. We are going to begin the 1st of November practicing the carols for Christmas, and hope they will all have as happy a day as they did last year.

With a heart full of love to you all for the help you have so kindly given me before, and hoping, as the years roll on, I may see some of your dear faces, I am, now and always, gratefully and truly your friend,

Mrs. Richardson.

What does the brook say, flashing its feet
Under the lilies' blue brimming bowls,
Brightening the shades with its tender song,
Cheering all drooping and sorrowful souls?
It says not, "Be merry," but deep in the wood
Rings back, "Little maiden, be good, be good."
What does the wind say, pushing slow sails
Over the great troubled path of the sea;
Whirling the mill on the breezy height,
Shaking the fruit from the orchard tree?
It breathes not "Be happy," but sings loud and long,
"O bright little maiden, be strong, be strong."
What says the river, gliding along
To its home on far-off Ocean's breast;
Fretted by rushes, hindered by bars,
Ever weary, but singing of rest?
It says not, "Be bright," but in whisperings grave,
"Dear little maiden, be patient, be brave."
What do the stars say, keeping their watch
Over the slumbers the long lone night,
Never closing their bonnie bright eyes,
Though great storms blind them, and tempests fright?
They say not, "Be splendid," but write on the blue,
In clear silver letters, "Maiden, be true."

What a rainy time we have had, to be sure, children! I thought about my little correspondents as the floods fell day after day, and I wondered how those who have long, long walks to school contrived to get there when the bridges were down, and the great trees were torn up by the roots, and the paths, usually dry, were all covered with water.

Some years ago a friend of mine, waking up one morning, was saluted by her cook with the news that the kitchen floor was so wet that she could not prepare the breakfast. The water came over the poor woman's rubber shoes. My friend thought she could manage to boil a cup of coffee and make toast by the fire in the parlor; but later in the day Joe and Frank, her sons, found it great fun to march about the wet kitchen on stilts. They made the fire in the range, and, under Mary's directions, produced omelet, broiled steak, and other things, so that the family did not starve during the rainy day.

If any of you have met with adventures during the freshet, I shall expect to hear all about them.

Lincoln, Nebraska.

School begins next week, and I would like to tell you about my first vacation. In June I went to Indiana to visit my cousins. When I came home I crossed the Mississippi and Missouri rivers for the fourteenth time. In two weeks papa and mamma and I started for Denver. We left Lincoln at noon, and the next morning I saw the mountains for the first time. How strange to see snow in July! We spent a few days in Denver, and then such a wild ride as we had through the mountains to Georgetown, where I can't tell you half of the fun I had. I fed the fish, and had a lovely row on Green Lake. I went one-third of a mile into the Colorado Mine in a little car, then down a shaft 250 feet, in a bucket with a miner, to see the men at work; but I did not buy a mine like the other little "tenderfoot" I read about in Harper's. But it was the most fun to ride on a burro. There were ten children and seven burros, and we had a fine ride on the mountain, and then had our pictures taken. The cutest picture was a burro with four children on his back.

We went to Central over a queer railroad that runs almost up to the town at the foot of the mountain, then makes a loop and runs back a mile on the side of the mountain over the tops of the houses, then turns again and runs into the town—oh, ever so high up! And we went to the Bobtail Mine, and into the mill where they crush the ore and wash the gold out of it. It was very interesting. I had a nice play with a little new friend, Ethel S., whose papa owns lots of mines.

And now I must tell you about our going up Pike's Peak. We left Manitou at seven in the morning on horses, and such a wild, beautiful ride I never had before. We had to go on a narrow path just wide enough for a horse to go, very carefully winding around the mountain-side, and we could hardly ever see to the top, and not to the bottom, it was so far down. The bright little creek that came splashing down through the rocks made the sweetest music that mamma ever heard. The flowers, too, were very bright. When we were near the top, papa let me pass him, and I was the first to get there. Then we had coffee made from the snow-bank near the house. But the going down! So tired we were, we were fit to fall.

And now I am too tired to tell you about the Garden of the Gods, the Cave of the Winds, and the Denver Exposition. I am eight years old.

Joy W.

P. S.—It is twelve miles to the top of Pike's Peak.

I really felt, little Joy, as I read your letter, that some time or other I too must climb those great mountains, and venture into those mines, and maybe even ride on a burro, as, you did. But very likely the burro would not care about carrying even a lady like me, unless, perhaps, I could find the little fellow that had four on his back at once. And what would become of the Post-office Box while I was climbing the steep mountains? For the present I suppose I must be content to view the snow-clad peaks through your bright eyes. Thanks, dear child, for the lovely pressed flowers so prettily arranged.