It was sunset. The last rays of the sun were cast over the placid waters of the Mediterranean Sea, and lit up its surface with its rosy light. In one of the many vessels which traversed its waters was, among the other passengers, a child, a little Italian boy, Carlos Arditi. He was in the care of his uncle, who was taking him to his mother in Italy. Little Carlos then lay peacefully sleeping in his little berth.
How different was the scene from that which took place two hours later! The wind was blowing a terrific hurricane, and all was confusion on board the ship. The Captain tried in vain to make the sailors hear his commands, and even through the speaking-trumpet it was impossible to hear him above the noise of the tempest. All efforts to save the good ship were useless, and it soon fell on its side, while the wind was blowing with terrific force. Some people were clinging to the ship, while others were struggling in the water, among whom was little Carlos. He had just taken hold on a broken spar, when he saw a beautiful lily-white hand come up out of the water by his side. It took him by the waist, and drew him below the waves. When he was under-water he saw that a lovely mermaid had taken him down to the bottom of the sea.
"I am the mermaid Queen Sea-shell," said she, in a voice which murmured like a little brook which flows over the pebbles at its bottom. "And," she added, "you are to stay with me, and you shall never return to earth again. You will not find me unkind, and you shall play in my beautiful garden, eat of the delicious fruits, and pick all the flowers which grow there."
Until this time Carlos had remained silent. Now he said:
"Oh, dear Queen, I would stay with you, and oh, how happy would I be! but remember the madre watching for her Carlos to come. If I have anything good enough for you to take, take it in return, but I must see the dear madre again."
"As you say, child," replied the mermaid. "Give me thy voice, and thou shalt go. But first sing."
Carlos raised his large brown eyes to Sea-shell's face, and began. The childish voice rose sweet and clear, but when the song was finished Sea-shell shook her head.
"The waves sing as well as that," she said. "But list, child, give me thyself as thou art on earth, and thou shalt go home."
Carlos did not answer; he only looked up at the sweet face before him. He did not understand her. Suddenly an overpowering drowsiness came over him, and he shut his eyes. When he awoke he was still by Sea-shell, but no longer a mortal child, but a beautiful spirit.
"Come, Carlos," then said Sea-shell; "you are going home."
Then she wrapped him in her loving embrace, and carried him far away above the mighty waters, and still farther up among the clouds.
"Where am I going, dear Queen?" asked Carlos.
"To your home, child," answered Sea-shell; "and your home to you now, little one, is heaven."
"But the madre?" he asked, eagerly.
"The madre will be with you," replied the Queen.
And the mermaid's promise came true.
Bessie Alexander, Philadelphia.
C. Y. P. R. U.
Most girls are fond of the needle, and enjoy the housekeeping duties which fall naturally under womanly care. Here and there, however, we find one who prefers to use a hammer and nails, to make boxes, hang pictures, and mend broken tables and chairs. There is nothing wrong in indulging such tastes, if you have them. In Atlanta, Georgia, there is a young lady who practices the art of making shoes. Not long ago a gentleman sent his little nephew with a pair of boots to be mended, directing him to go to the nearest place. Returning, the child astonished his uncle by remarking that "she" said so and so. Then it was discovered that there was in the neighborhood a young girl under twenty years of age, the daughter of a shoemaker, who daily works at the trade herself, not only mending, but making in good style both boots and shoes. For several years she has thus been engaged, and has won the respect and patronage of a large circle of appreciative families. We think this clever young girl deserves great praise.
To Puzzlers.—In sending your puzzles please state whether you wish to have your full name, your initials, or your nom de plume appear. Do not make puzzles on the names of great and good men who have lately died. We can not use the names of Longfellow, Emerson, or Dean Stanley in puzzles, acrostics, or enigmas. By doing so we should show a lack of proper veneration for the poets and thinkers whose death has made the world sorrowful.
Constant Reader.—The Bazar Book of Decorum, published at $1 by Messrs. Harper & Brothers, is a manual of information on the subject which interests you. There is also a valuable book entitled Social Etiquette and Home Culture, which is published in the "Franklin Square Library." Its price is 20 cents, and it touches very pleasantly on most points which concern good manners.