LITTLE CHARLIE WHITE.
CHARLIE WHITE.
From a Photograph by Stauffer, Asbury Park, New Jersey.
Well, yes, ma'am, this is the lake, and the story is pleasant and true,
Though Charlie White did nothing at all but what he'd been taught to do.
Yet I count it honor enough, when a boy sees trouble and muss,
Just to know what to do, and do it, without any talk or fuss.
You know what the August weather is, and children, for any sake,
Will not keep out of the water: there were two that day in the lake.
The one was near about eight, and the other was twelve years old—
Both just of that age, as you'll allow, when children are over-bold.
One moment I heard their merry laugh ring through the summer air,
And the next their father's shout of "Help!"—their mother's shriek of despair.
But being old and lame, as you see, I stood, dazed like, on the bank,
Till Charlie White had put off a boat, and was rowing to where they sank.
'Twas done in a moment, quick as thought; and that, as I take it, ma'am,
Makes all the odds between true courage and that which is half a sham;
For while we were lost in fear and fright, little Charlie had got the boat,
And when the children rose to the top, was there to keep them afloat.
For Charlie is but a little fellow, and hadn't the strength, you see,
To lift the children into the boat, but he spoke cheerily,
And held them up until help came; and so, with a happy heart,
He left them safe, and went his way, just glad to have done his part.
And best of all, as I said before, though Charlie is noways rash,
The deed was done, as such brave deeds are, rapid and prompt as a flash;
And this, I think, is the children's way; they never mind praise or gain:
I guess you've read of that brave Kate Shelley that saved the Western train.
Well, Kate and Charlie are of one kind, and surely now I can see
Why Jesus said to the wise and the great, "Like little children be."
For though we may honor the men of war, who have their thousands slain,
In a better world God's angels, perhaps, may count it a grander gain
To succor a drowning boy and girl, or to save a loaded train.
Seattle, Washington Territory.
I am a large girl eight years old. We take Harper's Young People—that is, Willie and Jessie and I—and we are very glad when papa brings to us a new number. I had a little fawn which came from British Columbia. It was three weeks old when papa bought it for us, and such a time as we had in teaching the spotted little baby deer to drink milk! It grew to know us, and became a darling pet and playmate. We have sent it on a great ship to a little boy in San Francisco. I cried to see Una go away; and she cried, so the man said, for us. We live upon a hill, and can look out upon Puget Sound, and see ships coming and going all the time. On a clear day we can always see the snowy mountains.
Minnie R.
Poughkeepsie, New York.
I thought I would write again, and see whether my letter could find a place in Our Post-office Box this time. I came home a few weeks ago from my visit to the country. While I was at my grandpa's my sister and I had a real nice time playing by the creek which was below the house. We built a raft, and had some splendid rides on it. Last night I came home from Newburgh, where I went soon after my return from the country. On my way home with papa and mamma we saw a very large and very old-looking cat in the butcher's shop, and the butcher who owned him told papa he was twenty-three years old. He said he knew it to be so, because puss had been there with him for all that time. For the last four or five years they had chopped his meat fine for him, because he had but two teeth left, I think if he were mine I would be very proud of him—would not you?
Anna V. H.
The cat was fortunate in having so kind an owner. Do you know that in India there are hospitals and asylums for aged and sick animals, where the greatest care is taken of and the highest honors are paid to them? Yet human life is not highly valued in some of the old lands where they are so tender of the lower orders of creation.
New Rochelle, New York.
I enjoyed a nice vacation, and after it returned cheerfully to school. My father had said that he would give me a ring if I was promoted, so I studied hard last term, and am now in a higher class. I received four beautiful butterflies from Miss M. S. McC., of Washington, D. C. I have a branch covered with moss, and I have pinned the butterflies to it. I am much obliged to you for having printed my exchange.
Banks H. B.
884 Madison Avenue, Albany, New York.
We have a bird and a dog (ay, and a dog Yobbie, says Lida). The bird's name is Dixie, and he is not home. I have a little sister and brother (ay, and two boyers, says Lida). We had a real nice little kitten, but she died or ran away. She could box with her paws. Freddy tried to box with a visitor cat, but she would not, and Freddy was disgusted.
Wouldn't somebody send some tree leaves, for postage stamps? Papa has a lot of old foreign stamps, and we are making a leaf collection. I am nearly six, and I tell papa what to write for me.
Elbertie Laura Bramhall.
Santa Clara, California.
We have a big Artesian well which flows over the pipe almost six inches, and is five hundred feet deep.
Not long ago we went to San Francisco on the cars, visited Woodward's Garden, and had a very nice time. I enjoyed the many sights, but was most delighted with the sea-lions and the monkeys. There is a place in the bay near San Francisco where the rocks are covered with sea-lions.
"Tim and Tip" is a splendid story.
Elbert G. A.
Needham, Massachusetts.
I have a very kind friend who gives me Young People every week, and I like "The Cruise of the 'Ghost,'" "Tim and Tip," and the stories that Jimmy Brown and George Cary Eggleston write. My father is away all day, as he is a railroad conductor, and every Sunday he asks me if I have read Young People this week. Last Saturday two other boys and myself went after wild grapes, and we each brought home a peck of them.
Harry S. W.
Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts.
I am a little girl, twelve years old, and am over seven hundred miles from my home. To-day I went to the Public Garden in Boston, and had a ride in the swan boat on the little pond, and saw a lovely rainbow through a fountain. Then I saw on Boston Common four cunning little goats harnessed to a little wagon called Baby Mine. I have seen many new and pretty things I could tell you about, but I suppose you have so many little correspondents that I will not write any more this time.
May H. L.
The little matter of business to which you refer in your letter has been attended to, and we think you were kind and considerate. You might have told us more about Boston. Did you climb to the top of the Bunker Hill Monument, and did you visit the spacious Library? Perhaps you will tell us when you write again.
Utica, New York.
This is the first letter I have ever written to your dear little paper. I am twelve years old. I have a nice little pussy which I call Pansy, and my brother dipped her in a pail of dirty water. I don't think it was very kind of him; do you?
I have read "Toby Tyler," and I hope "Tim and Tip" will be as good.
Lucy Canterbury G.
It was very unkind in your brother to treat poor Pansy so. We hope he will not tease you in that way again. Boys often do such mischievous things, when they do not really mean to be cruel. They should remember that "evil is wrought by want of thought," and that the gentlest boys are usually the manliest.
Tunkhannock, Pennsylvania.
I have never written a letter to Our Post-office Box, because I have been afraid they would laugh at me. But I see so many little letters that I am venturing at last. My papa is a printer, and once worked in New York, and I would dearly love to live there, because there are so many grand things I could learn in school, and music too. The girls tell you about their pets. I used to have a three-legged kitten, and it could run ever so fast, but the dogs caught it finally.
I now have a cat which is the exact image of a tiger. It runs after children, and frightens them by jumping at them. My papa took me to a picnic, and we danced the Schottisch. I live with my grandma, who is very good to me. My mamma is dead.
Lena W.
Nobody who writes to this Post-office Box need fear being laughed at. We would not be so impolite, and we love to see our children's letters, even when the little fingers have not learned to write so very well yet. It took us a long time to learn how ourselves. We have not forgotten our old copy-books, in which "Practice makes perfect" was so often set at the head of the page. For some reasons, it is very pleasant to live in New York, little Lena; but for others, we are quite sure it is equally desirable to live where your home is. You can learn "grand things" everywhere, if you try hard enough.
Maquoketa, Iowa.
I am eight years old. I had three kits. One was named Susan; the other two were Jack and Jill. Susan ran away, and poor little Jill had dreadful fits, and we don't know whether she ran away or died in a fit. Jack is just a splendid cat. He is in my lap now.
Dale L.
Grand Rapids, Michigan.
I have seen a good many letters in Our Post-office Box, but only one from Grand Rapids. I am a little girl eight years old, and I like to read the letters very much. My brother takes the Young People, and we all like to read it. When school commenced I was promoted to another class. I have a little pet kitten who sometimes has fits. One day I fed it some cat-nip tea with a tea-spoon.
Annie Audubon W.
What a pity it is that Kitty should be often ill and fitty! Are you sure, dear Dale and Annie, that you do not feed your cats with too many sweets and fats? Or perhaps you pet them too much. Try a little more neglect. It may have a fine effect.
Winnipeg, Manitoba.
The society mentioned in No. 93 is now being organized. We have five corresponding secretaries appointed, but we want one for each State and Province in North America. The rules, etc., will be printed as soon as all officers are appointed. It has been decided by a majority of the members to fix the annual dues as follows: boys, 20 cents; girls, 15 cents. All exchanges are to be made by mail. The name decided on for the society was the "International Curiosity Collectors' Club and Young People's Exchange." All are invited to join. Address Robert C. Manly, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, or Harry Belden, Wellington, Lorain Co., Ohio.
New York City.
I thank you for answering my letter in No. 98. You said I ought to go on a farm, and that is just the thing I wish to do. My father would not oppose it, but my mother will not consent. It is not money I want so much at present, as my parents could let me go and work for nothing a couple of years for the sake of learning, but it is the future that I am thinking about. I have never looked so much at the future as I have in the last two months. It is strange, I have often thought. I sit an hour at a time. I am thinking now. I think I see a farm-house; I am sitting by the door; my hair is white, and I am very old; children are clustering around my knees. It is a nice picture, and I wonder if it will ever come true. I hope it will. I would like to work on a farm very much; I think it so free. I like flowers, and our yard is very nice, full of them. I would like to be a florist if I could not be a farmer.
N. Eng. F.
There is not much profit in day-dreams, and while you are making romantic pictures of the future, you might better be employed in studying or using to good advantage the present. A bright active boy has a good many miles to go before he becomes a white-haired man. Farming is not easy work. The farmer who means to succeed must rise early, toil hard, content himself with small gains, and lead anything rather than a luxurious life. You will be wise to be guided by your mother in the choice of a profession or an occupation.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
I have never written to any magazine before, so I thought I would write and tell you how I like all the young people's letters. I think I like "Mildred's Bargain" best of any of the stories. I want to tell you about my pony Kitty. (Is not that a pretty name?) And also my dog Baby Belle. Well, when I come home from riding I put Baby Belle on Kitty, and she rides all over the yard, and you can not think how funny it looks.
G. C. S.
Tenafly, New Jersey.
I have been spending my summer vacation at Canandaigua, New York. I had a very nice visit, and on my way home I became acquainted with two girls, who rode all the way to New York city with us. I am making a collection of picture cards, and any boy or girl who will exchange with me will please address
Lillie Sisson.
Leesburg, New Jersey.
I thought I would write to Young People, as I have never before written to a paper. Our school began the first Monday in September. I enjoyed our vacation very much indeed. My sister Lillie and I went from here to Woodbury, and from Woodbury to Atlantic City, alone on the cars, and after that we went to three other places, so we had a nice long visit. I have no particular pet, but we have a horse named Nellie, and we have two cats, one of whom we call Blackie, because he is black, and the other, "Lillie's cat," because he belongs to Lillie. We once had a cat named Malty, and we then had two kittens. Malty used to catch mice and rats and give them to the kittens. We thought her very nice. My father used to be a sea-captain. I have been as far South as St. Augustine, Florida. I have been to New York two or three times, but I never noticed the place where Young People is printed. I like the story of "Tim and Tip," and I think the stories of "Penelope," "Phil's Fairies," and "Toby Tyler" are splendid.
Florence E. S.
As my sister is writing a letter, I think I will do the same. I have never written before. I thought I would like to have a letter of mine in print—I mean if it is nice enough. I am ten years old. I go to school, and a gentleman by the name of Mr. Woodruff is our teacher. I am in geography, and we are studying map-drawing; our lesson to-day is the construction lines of Asia. I can hardly wait for Tuesday to come to bring us our dear Young People. This summer, when we were at my uncle's, their birds got away. They were out in a storm. They expected to find them dead, but they recovered them next day, safe and sound.
Lillian R. S.
Brooklyn, New York.
I have a great deal of trouble in school this term because I sit with a girl who persists in making me laugh. She is a sweet girl, and I love her dearly, but she does do such funny things! yet she can keep her face perfectly straight, when I am giggling and receiving bad marks. My teacher is very strict, and she says I am as much to blame as Cora is, and that if I tried harder I would not get into disgrace so often. I hate to carry home a report, at the end of the week with "Not satisfactory" on it, for my mother looks so sad; but I can not seem to help myself. What do you think about it? Please tell me in Our Post-office Box.
Gertrude H. L.
We think your teacher would do well to let Cora and yourself sit farther apart. Two little girls who can not be trusted to control themselves in the class should be separated. But we are afraid that you do not endeavor to do what you ought in this matter. For the credit of the school and for your own honor, you should be above trifling in school-hours; and if you would only think that if there is a time for play, there is also a time for work, you would be able to behave better, and win your teachers approval.
Windsor, Illinois.
We had a pet once, a white squirrel, which we called Finny, but it died. Papa sent it to St. Louis, and had it stuffed and mounted for us. We now have a little gray one, a pair of white bantams, and six hens. I have a kitten all white but its tail. I have two sisters, both older than I; Lollie is sixteen, Lena is twelve, and I am nine. I hope papa will always take Young People.
E. V. G.
Do you never feel sad when you look at your stuffed squirrel? One day we were visiting a lady who had a canary-bird in a cage among vines and flowers. After a while we wondered that the bird did not sing, and then we noticed that it kept remarkably still. So we spoke of it, and then were told that Muff had died and been stuffed. And there it stood on its little perch.
We hope Weir M. will be successful in raising his family of rabbits. Emily D. may be sure the Editor shall hear that she wants more "Pinafore Rhymes" in Young People. It does keep us busy to read so many letters, but Walter H. G. need not be afraid to send us another before long; Eva I. has our congratulations on her candy. She must try her hand at cake and bread. Jessie M. R., your hope about Tip is shared by very many. Willie Van B., who apologizes for his writing, for the reason that he has lately lost his right thumb, is assured of our sympathy; we think that, considering the misfortune, he writes wonderfully well.
G. C. B.—You would do better not to attempt such a curtain as you describe. It is both difficult and expensive to arrange a curtain which can be raised and lowered swiftly in a hall for amateur performances. A curtain which is divided in the middle, and may be drawn quickly apart from both sides, will be more satisfactory, and can be easily adjusted.
Box 185, Cumberland, Maryland, states that his coins are exhausted. He will return all superfluous stamps sent him on receipt of postage to do so.
Our children will not forget Mrs. Richardson's little school, though we may not remind them of it every week. Here is another charming letter from her, acknowledging the receipt of needed gifts, and suggesting something for the future which will set many little fingers at work. Christmas is still a long distance from us, yet it is not too early to begin, in odd minutes, the pleasant work of making Christmas gifts. You will all enjoy the merry time the more if you take pains to give the little dark-eyed boys and girls at Woodside a jolly Christmas-tree.
Woodside, near Lincolnton, North Carolina.
My dear Friends,—Once more let me thank you for the little parcels that have come since I wrote last, from Glenn Woolfenden, Nashoa, Mo.; Anna Dearburne, Big Stone City, Dakota; Miss Gertrude Guion, Elmira, N. Y.; Charley Brink, Aniaga, A. T.; Mrs. Ellen Burke, Blue Mound, Ill.; Teddy Smith, ——; Miss Mary O'Neil, Miss Hattie Burgess, Miss Etta Coulter, Rochester, N. Y.; Charles R. Crowther, Bridgeport, Conn.; F. H. Day, Norwood, Massachusetts; W. A. Lewis, Lewistown, Penn.; N. A. Miller, Tarrytown, N. Y.; Miss Emma Joiner, Easton, Md. Among these parcels were two boxes of very useful books. You have helped us so generously that we have now books and papers to last us for some months to come. Of course I could in the neighborhood find use for almost any number, but that would be too big a work for either you or for us to undertake. We have decided that it will be best to build the school-house on land of its own, and so we will make a deed of the land upon which it is to be built to that effect. We will teach the school, and do all as I have promised. If your kind hearts still wish to help, you can do so by sending me some old clothes, hats, hoods, shoes, shawls; dolls and toys—no matter if they are broken: they will be acceptable and lovely to these little ones, who have never owned a "store doll" in their lives. They all are fond of candy, from Uncle Pete down to the youngest child. They will be very poor this winter, owing to the dry summer, and failure in the cotton crop. We will be so glad if the Christmas tree can have gifts that will warm up their cold little bodies! We will make and frost a large cake that will cut into forty-two generous slices; then have, without stint, cookies and hot coffee in the kitchen; when they have enjoyed this, show them the tree. If we succeed, I will write you about it. With my heart full of gratitude to you all, I am truly yours,
Mrs. Richardson.
I would like to tell you of a parrot my grandmother has. My uncle used to go away every Saturday evening, and return Monday morning. The parrot used to know when Monday morning came, and at seven o'clock she used to take her stand on the railing of the stairway, and when he arrived would fly down to meet him. Once she had her wings clipped so that she could not fly. The next Monday she took her stand as usual, and losing her balance, fell down stairs. She has never tried again to fly.
E. T.
Poor Polly!
Newburgh, New York.
I am eleven years old, and this is the first time I ever wrote to any paper. I take three other papers besides this, but I like Harper's Young People the best. Jimmy Brown's stories are very funny. I wish he would write more. I think Mr. Otis is a charming author.
We have a black dog named Beaver, and a black horse named Frank, who performs circus tricks like the horses in Barnum's.
Emily L.
C. Y. P. R. U.
These letters stand for Chautauqua Young People's Reading Union, and indicate, as was explained last week, that the readers of this column are a branch of the great society which meets at Chautauqua every summer for study, recreation, and training in usefulness. Whoever shall take a part in contributing to the budget of the Postmistress may write C. Y. after his or her name, on the best authority. The column will be a sort of miscellany, and you may feel entirely at liberty to send anything to it that you please. For instance, here is a letter from a boy who, in studying natural history, has happened across a pleasant incident in the experience of a traveller in the East:
Millbrook, New York.
Dear Postmistress,—My teacher gave me as a prize for improvement in reading, a very entertaining book by E. Warren Clarke. Its title is From Hong-Kong to the Himalayas. I was much interested in the author's description of his first ride on an elephant. He and a friend went together, and on the neck of each animal sat a Hindoo driver, who guided its movements, and punished it when he chose with a cruel iron instrument, heavy, sharp, and dull, shaped something like the head of a harpoon. Mr. Clarke found the motion of the elephant very much like the rolling of a ship at sea. The elephants moved noiselessly along, picking their steps and avoiding holes, and sometimes they gathered grasses, leaves, and twigs with their trunks, and threw them skillfully into their mouths.
"The largest elephant became very thirsty," says Mr. Clarke, "and as he was quite warm, and we would not allow him to stop and drink, he made a peculiar plaintive utterance, which seemed to be understood by the other elephant; the latter came deliberately up, and placed his trunk in the open mouth of the thirsty one, and gave him to drink from his own stomach, or some unseen reservoir with which, like a camel, he appeared to be provided."
Wasn't that kind? I should have loved such a good elephant.
Now, Postmistress, I'll tell you one thing more, and then I'll stop. This author says that wild elephants do very little harm, and show good dispositions, not attacking you unless you disturb them; but an elephant which has once been tamed, and after that relapses into a wild state, is very dangerous indeed. He acts as if he hated mankind, and had been made bitter by his dwelling with them; and so the natives call such a fellow a "rogue" elephant.
Joe J. H.
Your letter pleases me very much, for it shows me that you are learning how to study. Some boys think that they can learn all that is essential about a branch or a study from their school text-books. On the contrary, the most that a text-book can do is to give outlines and arbitrary facts or lay down principles. A full and rounded scholarship implies a great deal of side study. The ambitious pupil will find something to bear on what he is learning in Harper's Young People, in the books he finds at a friend's house or in his father's library, and in the daily paper. When the attention is duly called to it, it is wonderful how all sorts of things seem to come to your help in the special line of study you have adopted. If the C. Y.'s will notice this, they will be surprised to observe how many curious coincidences there are to aid progress when people are very earnestly bent on one pursuit.
Will the Postmistress please tell me why unmarried ladies are sometimes called spinsters? It never seems to me like a title of respect.
Jennie F.
It is a very honorable title, because it suggests that the person bearing it is not an idler, but a useful woman. In olden times—a hundred years ago, for instance—in every household there would be a spinning-wheel and a loom, and part of the regular work of the daughters of the house was to spin, weave, bleach, dye, and prepare the garments of the family. To be a spinster was to be an important member of the community.
Is it right to say party when you mean person?
Alice B.
No. The use of party in the sense of person is inelegant and vulgar. Never say, "I must see a party," when you mean that you must consult a lady or a gentleman about business or pleasure.
What is the origin of Tam o' Shanta?
"Tam o' Shanter," not Shanta, is the title of a humorous poem by Robert Burns.
Please remember that your letters to C. Y. P. R. U. are always to be addressed plainly to the Postmistress. When you are reading, and you find something which you fancy the Postmistress would like to see, take the trouble to copy it for her. She would advise you all to keep little note-books and pencils in your pockets, or in some convenient place, and whenever a happy idea occurs to you, or you learn something new, make a brief record on the spot. There is no better way than this of fixing a fact definitely in your mind.
We call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. to the following articles in this number as particularly designed for them:
"The Sea" (Illustrated).—The first article of a series on the "World of Waters," by Charles Barnard.
"Sir Isaac Newton"—a biographical sketch.
A sketch of the early life of President Garfield, with portraits of his three eldest children.
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
TANGLE—(To Cal I. Forney).
I am an African cape. Change my head, and I become successively a weight, an heir, to peruse, to dress, gained, yonder, a cycle, an electrical chemical element, and a negative.
Lodestar.