A BRAVE GIRL.
One summer day, in Union square, New York City, a beautiful deed was done, which our frontispiece tells so well as almost to leave no need of words. A poor blind man started to cross the street just as a car was rapidly approaching. He heard it coming, and, growing confused, stood still—his poor, blind face turned helplessly, pathetically up, as if imploring aid. Men looked on heedlessly, regardless of his danger, or the voiceless appeal in his sightless eyes.
Suddenly, from among the passers-by, a young girl sprang to his side, between him and the great horses which were so near they almost touched her, laid her dainty hand on his, and led him safely over the street, and with gentle words that brought a smile to his withered old face, set him safely on his way.
It was a brave, kindly act, and one may be sure it was neither the first nor the last, of the brave girl who did it.
If Charles Dudley Warner had never been a boy, it would have been impossible for him to write the very interesting little volume he calls "Being a Boy," for it is evident that he knows well, from experience, all that he writes about. It may be that many of our young readers have seen this book, for it has already reached several editions; but if there are any of them who have not read it, and who take an interest in the life of boys who are born, and brought up, and have fun, and drive oxen, and go fishing, and turn grindstones, and eat pumpkin-pie, and catch wood-chucks, all on a New England farm, they would do well to get the book and read it.
If any of those who read it are boys on a farm in New England, they will see themselves, as if they looked in a mirror; and if any of them are city boys or girls, or live in the South or West, or anywhere in the world but in New England, they will see what sort of times some of the smartest and brightest men in our country had, before they grew up to be governors, book-writers, and other folks of importance.
There is a particular reason why readers of ST. NICHOLAS should see this book, for in it they will meet with some old friends.
Williamsburgh, L.I.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I read in the May "Letter-Box" your answer to Stella G. about long and short words. It reminded me of what I read once about Count Von Moltke, the great German general. The writer described him as "the wonderful silent man who knows how to hold his tongue in eight different languages."—Yours truly,
WILLIE, M.D.
Santa Fé, N.M.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The donkeys here are called "burros." They are very tame, and do not get frightened at anything. A few days ago, the boys in our school tied a bunch of fire crackers to the tail of one, and fired them off. We all thought he would be very frightened at the noise, but he just walked off and began eating grass. My brother Barry had one of these little burros, when we were in Texas, and every evening he would go to a lady's house for something to eat, although he had more than he could eat at home; and if she did not come to the window soon, he would bray as loudly as he could, and she would have to come out and give him something, even if it was only a lump of sugur. Good-bye,—From, your affectionate friend,
BESSIE HATCH.
Coldwater, N.Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Having read in the March number an account of the "Great Eastern," I thought perhaps your readers would like to hear something of the history of her captain, which I read a short time ago.
When he was a little boy, he went to sea. As he left home, his mother said: "Wherever you are, Jamie, whether on sea or land, remember to acknowledge your God. Promise me that you will kneel down every morning and night and say your prayers, no matter whether the sailors laugh at you or not."
Jamie gave his promise, and soon he was on shipboard, bound for India. They had a good captain; and, as several of the sailors were religious men, no one laughed at the boy when he knelt down to pray.
On the return voyage, however, some of the former sailors having run away, their places were filled by others, and one of these proved to be a very bad fellow. When he saw little Jamie kneeling down, this wicked sailor went up to him, and, giving him a sound box on the ear, said, "None of that here, sir!"
Another seaman, who saw this, although he himself swore sometimes, was indignant that the child should be so cruelly treated. He told the man to come up on deck and he would give him a thrashing. The challenge was accepted, and the well-deserved beating was duly bestowed. Both then returned to the cabin, and the swearing man said, "Now, Jamie, say your prayers, and if he dares to touch you, I will give him another dressing."
The next night, Jamie was tempted to say his prayers in his hammock. The moment that the friendly sailor saw Jamie get into his hammock without first saying his prayers, he hurried to the spot and, dragging him out, said, "Kneel down at once, sir! Do you think I am going to fight for you, and you not say your prayers, you young rascal?" During the whole voyage back to London this same sailor watched over the boy as if he were his father, and every night saw that he said his prayers.
Jamie soon began to be industrious, and during his spare hours studied his books; he learned all about ropes and rigging, and became familiar with latitude and longitude. Some years after, he became captain of the "Great Eastern." On returning to England after a successful voyage, Queen Victoria bestowed upon him the honor of knighthood, and the world now knows him as Sir James Anderson.
MABEL R.
B.P.R.—Perhaps the little book called "Album Leaves," by Mr. George Houghton, published by Estes & Lauriat, will help you to some verses suitable to be writen (sic) in autograph albums.
Mobile, Ala.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The "that" question in your recent numbers brings to mind some "thats" I had when I went to school long years ago, and which some of your young grammarians may never have seen. I would like to have them, especially C.P.S., of Chicago, parse them.
E.S.F.
Now that is a word which may often be joined,
For that that may be doubled is clear to the mind,
And that that that is right, is as plain to the view
As that that that that we use is rightly used too;
And that that that that that line has in it, is right,
And accords with good grammar, is plain in our sight.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about my aunt Hattie. She is only nine years older than I am, being twenty-one, and seems more like a sister than an aunt. When she was about fifteen she was thrown from her pony and hurt her spine, so that she hasn't taken a step since.
But in spite of her great suffering she is the brightest, happiest one in the house, brimful and running over with fun and spirits. Papa calls her our sunbeam, and no one can grumble when they see how patiently and cheerfully she bears her pain. Her bright face and merry laugh will cure the worst case of "blues." She wants me to tell you how much she enjoys ST. NICHOLAS. It is a great comfort to her, and helps to pass away many an hour of pain and loneliness when I am at school and mamma is busy. She says she doesn't know what she could do without it.
Auntie says you must make allowance for what I say of her as I am a partial judge; but she is the dearest, best auntie in the world, and I'm not the only one who thinks so. Everybody loves her, and I shall be satisfied if I ever learn to be half as good and patient and unselfish as she is. I don't see how she can be so good and patient and happy when she has to lie still year after year and suffer so much, I should get cross and fret about it, for I can't bear to be sick a day. But she never thinks of her own troubles, but is so afraid she will make us care or trouble. When the pain is very bad she likes to hear music or poetry. It soothes her better than anything else. Whittier's poem on "Patience," is a favorite with her, and so is Mrs. Browning's "Sleep."—Ever your true friend,
ALLIE BERTRAM.
Salem, Mass.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about my little turtle. I got him up in the country last summer, and have had him about six months. I keep him in a bowl of water, with a shell in it. In summer I feed him with flies, and in winter I give him pieces of cooked meat about the size of a fly. My turtle's shell is nearly round, and he is small enough to be put in a tumbler, and then he can turn round as he likes. I named him "Two-forty" (a funny name), because, when you put him down, he stands still, looks around a minute, and then starts off on a run,—Your friend and reader,
JOHNNY P. WILLIS.
Camp Grant, Arizona.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Your coming every month fills us with delight. We cannot wait to read you separately, so mamma reads you aloud after the lamps are lighted, the first evening you are here. Papa lays aside his pen to listen, just like any boy, and so we all enjoy your pages at once. I have one little sister, but no brother.[Page 573] We live in camp, in far-away Arizona; and, although the "buck-board" brings the mail in every other day, it takes a long while for a letter to come from the East.
There is a pet deer here. He comes out to "guard mounting" on the parade-ground, and trots after the band when the guard passes in review. Every one is kind to him; even the dogs know they must not chase him.—Your true friend,
MOLLIE GORDON.
New Brunswick, N.J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I would like to tell you of the nice times that the country children have, although they have no parks. In summer they can go on picnics, and they have a nice garden to play in. And most of the children have little gardens of their own to plant things in,—one for flowers and the other for vegetables. Then, in the winter-time, they can go coasting, sliding and skating; then, last but not least, sleigh-riding on the lovely, pure white snow.
I, for one, would not be a city child. If I lived in the city, I could not have my old pet hen. Good-by, dear ST. NICHOLAS.—From your friend—
MATHILDE WEYER.
P.S.—I have a cat by the name of Pussy Hiawatha.
Covington, Ohio.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Would you like to know how I came to get you? I worked for you. My brother made a bank for me out of a cigar-box, and said if I put ten cents into it every week, I could begin taking you in November. That was in March. Sometimes, I could not get the ten cents, but I made it up the next week, and more, too, if I could; and before July, I had more than enough to pay for you. After that, I saved nearly enough to buy me a suit of clothes. I am working for you for another year. My age is twelve. —From your constant reader,
W.H. PERRY.
The following is sent to us from Josie C.H., aged eleven years, as her own composition:
SOME THINGS WHICH WE EXPECT IN YEARS TO COME.
Some boys, when they go to school, expect to learn. When they are a little older, they expect to go to college; and then, to learn trades and professions, and to become men. The farmer, when he plants his seed in the spring, expects a harvest. The merchant, when he buys his goods, expects to sell them at a profit. The student expects to become a lawyer, minister, etc. All boys expect to become men. We often expect things that never happen, but what we expect we cannot always get; yet we can try for them, which is a good rule to go by.
THE TRUE STORY OF "MARY'S LITTLE LAMB."
Saratoga Springs, N.Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you what I read lately in a newspaper about Mary and her lamb. Mary herself is now a delightful old lady of threescore and ten, and this is her story:
"I was nine years old, and we lived on a farm. I used to go out to the barn every morning with father, to see the cows and sheep. One cold day, we found that during the night twin lambs had been born. You know that sheep will often disown one of twins, and this morning one poor little lamb was pushed out of the pen into the yard. It was almost starved, and almost frozen, and father told me I might have it if I could keep it alive. So I took it into the house, wrapped it in a blanket, and fed it on peppermint and milk all day. When night came, I could not bear to leave it, for fear it would die. So mother made me up a little bed on the settle, and I nursed the poor little thing all night, feeding it with a spoon, and by morning it could stand. After this, we brought it up by hand, until it learned to love me very much, and would stay with me wherever I went, unless it was tied. I used, before going to school in the morning, to see that the lamb was all right, and securely fastened for the day.
"Well, one morning, when my brother Nat and I were all ready, the lamb could not be found, and, supposing that it had gone out to pasture with the cows, we started on. I used to be very fond of singing, and the lamb would follow the sound of my voice. This morning, after we had gone some distance, I began to sing, and the lamb hearing me, followed, and overtook us before we got to school. As it happened, we were early; so I went in very quietly, and took the lamb into my seat, where it went to sleep, and I covered it up with my shawl. When the teacher and the rest of the scholars came, they did not notice anything amiss, and all was quiet until my spelling-class was called. Hardly had I taken my place when the patter of little hoofs was heard coming down the aisle, and the lamb stood beside me ready for its word. Of course, the children all laughed, and the teacher laughed too, and the poor creature had to be turned out-of-doors. But it kept coming back, and at last had to be tied in the wood-shed until school was out. Now, that day, there was a young man in the school, John Roulston by name, who had come as a spectator. He was a Boston boy and son of a riding-school master, and was fitting for Harvard College. He was very much pleased over what he saw in our school, and a few days after gave us the first three verses of the song. How or when it got into print, I don't know.
"I took great care of my pet, and would curl its long wool over a stick, Finally, it was killed by an angry cow. I have a pair of little stockings, knitted of yarn spun from the lamb's wool, the heels of which have been raveled out and given away piecemeal as mementoes."—Yours truly,
J.M.D.
Bolinas, Cal.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Were the "Arabian Nights" written by an Englishman or translated from the Arabic? In either case can you tell us the name of the author?—Yours sincerely,
ESTHER R. DE PERSE AND JIMMIE MOORE.
The "Arabian Nights" were collected and translated into English by Edward William Lane, an Englishman; but no one ever has found out where or by whom the tales were first told. On page 42 of ST. NICHOLAS for November, 1874 (the first number), is an article on the subject by Mr. Donald G. Mitchell, which you would do well to read.
Geneva, Switzerland.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Perhaps some of your American readers have visited this far-away city, and even attended school here. Pupils come here for schooling from all parts of the world,—from America, Cuba, England, Germany, Russia, Greece, and even from Egypt. But many of the ST. NICHOLAS children never have been here; so I will tell them about the country and the people.
In the first place, Switzerland is a republic, with president and vice-president, as in the United States, but chosen every year. Switzerland is made up of twenty-two cantons, or states, each of which has two representatives; and, besides these, there are 128 members of the National Assembly, and seven members of the Federal Council, each of which last is chosen once in three years. The country is only one-third as large as the State of New York, being 200 miles long and 156 broad; and two-thirds of it is composed of lofty mountains or deep ravines. The people are apparently such lovers of law and order as to need no rulers at all. I think there must be propriety in the air they breathe. They have honest faces, and honesty beams out of their clear blue eyes. The school-boy even, instead of stopping to throw stones or climb fences or wrestle with another boy, walks along to school, at eight o'clock in the morning, with his square hair-covered satchel on his back, as orderly as if he were the teacher setting an example to his pupils. The laborers, in blouse-frocks of blue or gray homespun, make no noise, no confusion. All is done quietly, orderly and correctly; each one knows his duty and does it.
Although Berne is the capital, Geneva is the largest city; and I think if you could see it as it is, with grand snow-capped mountains at both sides, the clear blue lake,—not always blue, for sometimes it is green, and then the blue Rhone can be distinctly seen flowing through it,—the pretty green parks and gardens, clean streets, and oddly dressed people, you would think, as I do, that it is a very nice place to be in.
There are several little steamers which ply on the lake, and numberless little sail and row boats, and beautiful white swans, with tiny olive-colored cygnets, swimming and diving for food. On the banks of the rapid river, which leaves the lake at the city, are the wash-houses—a great curiosity. But my letter is getting too long, so I must stop.—Yours truly,
S.H. REDFIELD.
Easton, Pa.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I send you an acrostic which I have made, and I hope you will print it.—Yours truly,
B.
ACROSTIC.
My first has a heart that has ne'er throbbed with pity;
My next has strong arms, but ne'er strikes for the right;
My third has a head, but is not wise or witty;
My fourth, a neat foot, but in country or city
Is never seen walking, by day or by night;
My fifth, with a mouth that is surely capacious
Enough for a lion, is never voracious.
Guess from these five initials my whole, if you can;
'Tis a path ever used, yet untrodden by man.
Ans. Orbit. Oak, Reel, Barrel, Iambic, Tunnel.
CITY CHILDREN'S COUNTRY REST.
Brooklyn, E.D.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Here is news to do your heart good. Last summer, a Brooklyn lady, who herself has been bed-ridden and in pain for many years, felt very sorry for the children of the tenement houses, who are unable to get relief or a chance to enjoy the fresh air and bright sunlight of the country. She longed to help them, and said so to Mr. P., a clergyman in northern Pennsylvania. He spoke of it to his congregation, and asked them if they would invite some of the poor city children to visit their farm-houses and cottages for a week or so; and they gladly said they would, and told him he might bring along as many as he could get to come. This generous reply[Page 574] he told to the lady, and she let others know, and the result was that, although late in the season, more than sixty children from the poorest neighborhoods of Brooklyn—pale, deformed, city-worn, and ill-fed—spent a happy fortnight in the country.
The children were ferreted out, and their parents persuaded. They were then taken to the railroad depot, and there given in charge of Mr. P., who went with them, and sorted them among his people; and, when the time was up, brought them back, and turned them over to us at the depot. Then we took them to their homes. The total expense of carrying all the children there and back in three lots was about $180, and more money could have been had if it had been wanted. In fact, the minute the subject was broached every hearer wanted to help. The railroad company charged only half fares, and the employés got to know Mr. P. and his batches of children, and did all they could to make things easy and cheerful for them.
I can fancy how glad you would have been, dear old ST. NICHOLAS, to see the happy, hearty, bright-eyed boys and girls that came home in place of the pale-faced, dead-and-alive children that left two weeks before! They talked of nothing but the good times they had had. One little fellow, thinking to surprise us, said, "I seen a cow!" All of them fared well, and particularly enjoyed the "good country milk." When they came back, many wore better clothes than they had gone in, and all were laden with good things for the home folks. One boy carried under each arm a "live" chicken,—special gifts for his mother!
Now, if some of your readers in the country follow the example of these Pennsylvania people, they will know what it is to be downright happy; for every person who has had anything to do with this enterprise feels happy about it, and longs to do it again, and more besides.—Yours truly,
C.B.
ANSWERS TO MR. CRANCH'S POETICAL CHARADES, published on page 406 of the April number, were received, before April 18, from Neils E. Hansen, C.W.W., Arnold Guyot Cameron, Helen and Frank Diller, "Sadie," "Marshall," Emma Lathers, Arthur W. James, Louise G. Hinsdale, Ada C. Okell, E.K.S. and M.G.V., "Sunnyside Seminary," "Persephone," M.W.C., Genevieve Allis and Kittie Brewster, Florence Stryker, "Cosey Club," Mary and Willie Johnson, and Jeanie A. Christie.
ERRATUM.—The answer to No. 23 in "Presidential Discoveries" is "More" (Sir Thomas), not "William Henry," as given in the May number.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES in the April number were received, before April 18, from R.H. Marr, Grace Sumner, "Prebo," Marion Abbot, Maxwell W. Turner, Willie W. Cooper, "Cosey Club," Samuel J. Holmes, "Three Sisters," Charles G. Todd, W.M., M.E. Adams, Mamie G.A., W. Thomas, Jeanie A. Christie, T. Bowdoin, Robert M. Webb, Allie Bertram, Willie Wilkins, Maggie Simon, Kitty P. Norton, M.W. Collet, Jay Benton, "Kaween," Morris M. Turk, Leonie Giraud, Catherine Cook, Willie B. Dess, Willie Cline, Frances M. Griffitts, Nellie J. Towle, "Isola," Mary C. Warren, Florence I. Turrill, Charles Fritts, "Angeline," Sam Cruse, John V.L. Pierson, "Ollie;" Tillie Powles and May Roys; Tyler Redfield, Grace A. Jarvis, Bennie Swift; Sarah Duffield and "No Name" and Constance F. Grand-Pierre; "Romeo and Juliet," "Jupiter," O.C. Turner, Jessie D. Worstell, Melly Woodward, R. Townsend McKeever, Eleanor N. Hughes, Ben Merrill; Annie and Lucy Wollaston; William Eichelberger and John Cress; "Clover-leaf and Pussy-willow," Alice Getty, Herbert D. Utley; Bertha and Carl Heferstein and Estella Lohmeyer; C. Speiden and M.F. Speiden; Angeline O., May Filton, "Winnie," Maggie J. Gemmill, Jennie McClure, "X.Y.Z.," Neils E. Hansen, Clara B. Dunster, Bessie L. Barnes, Willie B. McLean, Bessie T., Lauretta V. Whyte, Hattie M. Heath; Charles W. Hutchins and Abbie F. Hutchins; Belle Murray, Harry A. Garfield; Helen and Frank Diller; Gertrude A. Pocock, Helena W. Chamberlain, "Al Kihall," Wm. F. Tort, "Lizzie and Anna," Kittie Tuers, Taylor Goshorn, Emma Lathers, "Marshall," Arthur W. James, Otto A. Dreier, "O.K.," Ada B. Raymond, "Seymour-Ct.," "Three Cousins," "Hallie," Alice Lanigan, Alfred Whitman, "Golden Eagle;" E.K.S. and M.G.V.; H.B. Ayers, Fred Chittenden; William McKinley Cobb and Howell Cobb, Jr.; Katie Hackett and Helen Titus; "35 E. 38th St.," W.D. Utley, Mary Lewis Darlington, Louisa L. Richards, James Barton Longacre, Nellie Emerson, Chas. B. Ebert, Jennie A. Carr, W.H. Wetmore, Mattie Olmsted; Arthur W. Hodgman, E.H. Hoeber, A.H. Peirce; Kittie Brewster and Genevieve Allis; Fannie B. Bates, Louise Egleston, Florence Stryker, Hattie H. Doyle, Mattie Doyle, Mabel Chester, Alice N. Dunn. A.R., Mary F. Johnson, M. Alice Chase, Alice Anderson, Bessie T. Hosmer, "Heath Hill Club," Anna E, Mathewson, I. Sturges, Addie B. Tiemann, Harriet A. Clark, Clarence H. Young, B.P. Emery, Victor C. Sanborn, "Persephone," Eddie Vultee; "M.," Staten Island; Fred M. Pease, Cyrus C. Clarke, Geo. J. Fiske; and George H. Nisbett, of London, England.
Correct solutions of all the puzzles were received from Arnold Guyot Cameron, "Bessie and her Cousin," Louise G. Hinsdale, Lucy C. Johnson; and L.M. and Eddie Waldo.