Intime Awad had trained the ostrich so well that the children could play with her as they did with the camels and ponies.
One day there was a great laughing and shouting around the tents. No wonder! for there came the ostrich stalking along with Hamid and Rashid on her back. Hamid sat astride the bird's neck, guiding it by a rope which was tied around its head for a bridle.
"Let me get up, too," cried Fatimah, who came running out of the tent; and good-natured Awad swung her up beside the boys.
"Hold on tight," he called out, as away went the big bird with a troop of little Bedouin children following a long way after.Such a ride as the children had! Poor Awad was quite breathless when they got back, from running to keep up with the bird's long strides.
But now Rashid's happy days in the desert were coming to an end; for the time had come when he must leave the "Black Tents" and go home. He was well and strong now, and a messenger had come from his father, saying how much he missed his boy, and how all at home wanted to have him back again.
"Oh, Rashid, must you go?" asked Hamid, who felt very sad at losing his little friend.
"Yes, but my father has sent word that you must come back with me, Hamid, for a visit with us."
And so it was all arranged that not only Hamid was to go with Rashid, but all the family as well. Everybody was very busy making preparations.
There were a great many things to do inorder to get ready for the journey, for when a Bedouin travels he takes his house and all his belongings with him.
Long before the peep of day Nassar-Ben had his great camels kneeling before the tents, and the camel men began to fasten the loads on the camels' backs, the beasts were groaning and moaning as they always do when they are being loaded. Camels are very cunning and wise, and try to make out that they have already too much to carry, even before they have made the attempt. Every once and awhile they would get up, and the camel men would cry out to them to kneel down again and keep quiet, giving a sharp blow with the curved stick which the drivers always carry to guide the camels.
One of the camels carried a litter in which Fatimah and her mother were to ride. It was like a broad seat and long enough so that Zubaydah and Fatimah might use it asa bed to lie down upon as well. Arched over it were poles on which hung curtains to keep out the dust and sun.
group of people on camelIN THE "SHUGDUF."
IN THE "SHUGDUF."
"Isn't this nice and snug?" laughed Fatimah.
"Too snug when all of you little ones are here," answered her mother.
The children had all climbed up into the litter to see just what it was like; and, of course, they had got in the way of Zubaydah who was hanging the pouches or bags around inside the curtains. These contained the food and other necessaries for the journey.
"It is very well for thee, Fatimah, but I am glad I am going to ride Zuleika," said Hamid, slipping out and stopping to watch two men swing two large jars of water across the camel's back behind the litter, which the Arabs called the "shugduf."
All the little Bedouin children of the neighbourhood crowded around to bid Rashid good-bye,for they had grown very fond of him and were sorry to see him go. Each had brought him some little parting gift, such as a string of dates, a bunch of feathers for his spear, or a tame bird.
After Rashid had thanked his kind little friends, there was great fun stowing the presents away so that they might be carried safely, especially the shell of one of the ostrich's eggs which Awad had brought him. Finally Fatimah found a place for this last gift by putting it in a palm-leaf basket and hanging it from the roof of the "shugduf."
At last all was ready. The boys mounted their ponies and the camel men cried out orders to the great beasts, and the camels got up slowly, groaning under their big loads. Al-Abukar looked splendid as he rode at the head of the little caravan on his swift dromedary. Over the dromedary's back were two big saddle-bags with long crimson tassels which hungnearly down to the ground; the saddle itself was of red leather with a high metal pommel at the front and back. Beside the dromedary cantered the two boys.
Rashid turned around and waved a last good-bye with his spear to all his friends whom he had left behind at the encampment, while all the little Bedouins ran after him a little way, shouting at the tops of their voices: "May your shadow never grow less, O little Son of the Walls!"
Soon the "Black Tents" were left far behind, and the camels struck into their regular caravan gait, rolling and lurching like a ship at sea.
If you were riding a camel for the first time you would understand why the Arabs call the camel "the ship of the desert," for it rolls backwards and forwards and pitches first forward and then backward exactly like a ship in mid-ocean.
At noon they halted for the midday meal. While the men hastily put up a tent, the children gathered dry branches in the thickets of thorn-bushes with which to make the fire. Meanwhile Hamid had spied some tents in the distance; and, near them, a woman tending goats.
"May we go and ask her to give us some milk, mother?" asked Fatimah.
"Yes, and here is some bread to give her in exchange for the milk," said Zubaydah.
The Bedouin woman gladly filled the bowl that the children brought with them with nice warm goat's milk, but when Fatimah offered her the bread, she shook her head angrily.
"Nay, nay, I am not a 'labban,'"—a milk-seller,—she said. The true Bedouins think it is a disgrace to sell milk, and that it is only right that they should give it freely to any stranger who may ask for it.
When the children got back with the milk,Zubaydah was frying dates in butter, and soon they were all sitting in the shade of the tent eating heartily of them and the cold meat and rice and cakes.
"The camels are glad to rest, too," said Rashid, watching them as they slowly knelt down one by one. It is one of the funniest sights in the world to see a camel lay down on the ground. He sighs and groans and slowly unbends his funny long legs that look as if they would come unjointed and drop off. He folds up his fore legs a little, then he folds up his hind legs in part, and then he falls on his knees until his nose nearly touches the ground. Now he finishes the folding up process with all his legs, as if they were the blades of a jack-knife, and tucks them well away beneath him.
When it became cooler our party broke camp, and the little caravan started off again over the desert. They passed more and moretents and herds, and also a little party of travellers like themselves, and all shoutedsalaams, or greetings, as they went by.
When they stopped for their supper, Hamid and Rashid, instead of washing themselves as usual, poured sand over their faces and hands in place of water. This is the Mohammedan custom when travelling in the desert, for where water has to be carried with one, it must not be wasted.
When bedtime came the children were quite ready for it, for it had been a long, hard day. Fatimah said she would rather sleep in the tent; but the two boys rolled themselves up in their rugs on the warm sand outside, and, with their saddles for pillows, slept as soundly as did their ponies, who were tethered beside them.
"Fasten the curtains of the litter well," said Al-Abukar when the little party started offthe next day, "the 'poison-wind' has begun to blow."
"Ugh! and it is as hot as if it blew from a furnace," said Hamid, tying the end of his kerchief tightly across his mouth. Rashid did the same, while Fatimah helped her mother to draw the curtains tightly around them; for thesimoon, as this great desert wind is called, was blowing great whirls of sand into their faces.
"Here comes a thing of ill-omen," said Hamid's father, pointing to a great column of sand which whirled by them at a rapid rate.
"Ay, it is agenie, the evil spirit of the desert," muttered the old camel-sheik, wrapping his cloak more closely about him.
Thegenieis practically a pillar of sand drawn up into the air by the wind as it whirls and blows around and around with a circular motion, very much in the same way that a water-spout is formed at sea. The Arabs are all afraid of thegenie, and say it is an evilspirit; and no wonder, for these moving columns of sand do not look unlike some strange, living thing as they go dancing across the desert.
The wind was blowing so hard when they halted at midday that they could not think of putting up a tent or cooking; but ate as best they could huddled up beside the kneeling camels, with their cloaks pulled up over their heads.
"I am eating more sand than bread," said Hamid, with disgust, as he held tightly to his cloak to keep it wrapped closely about him, and tried to eat at the same time.
"I know I must have eaten a basketful," said Rashid.
"Oh, there goes my veil," cried Fatimah, who had thoughtlessly popped her head out of the litter.
"Thou wilt never see it again," said hermother. Almost immediately it had been lost to view as it went sailing through the air.
"Never mind, thou shalt buy the prettiest that can be found in the Bazaar when we get to the city," said her father, consolingly.
The little caravan struggled against the wind all the rest of the day; and that night there was no sleeping in a tent for anybody. The next day, however, things went better.
"Oh! I see over there a beautiful lake of blue water and palm-trees beside it," cried Fatimah. "Look, mother," she said, waking her mother from a doze and pointing across the sandy plain.
"Indeed it looks as though there were water and trees ahead," said her mother; but Al-Abukar answered: "Nay, it is but amirage."
"But we can see the ripple of the water; it must be real," persisted Fatimah.
"Nay," said the camel man, and shieldinghis eyes with his hand, he peered at the strange sight. "The camels say nothing," he continued, "and they are wise and can always tell when water is near. If it were real water they would begin to whine and groan." Sure enough, as they went toward themirage, it faded away altogether, the lake, trees, and all.
"But it did look real, did it not, father?" said Fatimah.
"Ah, so has thought many a poor traveller to his undoing, when he was lost in the desert and was dying of thirst," answered her father. "He thinks he sees cool water and green trees ahead of him, and hurries along to reach them, only to find that the mockingmiragehas faded away and that there is nothing there but the hot sand of the desert."
Amiragereally is nothing more than a sort of reflection of some very distant object projected into the sky through the hot, dry air of the desert. Sometimes the desert travellersees a phantom city in the clouds, and sometimes a ship, as if it were floating on the sandy waves of the desert instead of on the ocean; but it is all a delusion and not real.
From now on, the little Bedouins began to remark that they were leaving the desert behind them. They began to pass some houses, and then small villages of mud huts with roofs of palm-leaves. Around these villages were little fields divided off by low ridges of earth. There were orchards of fruit-trees, and Hamid and Rashid rode up to one of these and bought some pomegranates.
"Did ever anything taste nicer?" said Fatimah. And they all agreed with her as they ate the sweet, pink pomegranate seeds.
Soon they were riding through great groves of date-palms, and shortly caught a glimpse of the city shining white through the trees still some distance away.
"Oh, Hamid! I believe that is my fatheryonder," cried Rashid, as he caught sight of several horsemen riding toward them.
It was true; it was the Sharif, Rashid's father, who, with a party of relatives, had come out to meet them. Rashid galloped forward, and in another moment was in the arms of his father.
The caravan came to a halt, and, after many greetings on all sides, got under way again, and they all rode together into the city.
"Is not the big city a wonderful place?" whispered little Fatimah to her mother as they rode through the great city gates of stone, the walls of which were painted with broad bands of yellow and red. She had never before seen a large city.
"Keep clear of the sides, O camel men!" shouted out Nassar-Ben, who had hard work guiding his little caravan through the narrow, winding streets. The camel men had to run behind their charges, prodding them withsticks and crying out: "Go in the middle of the road! O! Hé! O! Hi!"
Finally they came to the great square called the "Kneeling Place of the Camels," because all the caravans which came into the city were obliged to unload or encamp there. On one side of the square was the house in which Rashid lived. "Welcome to our house," said the Sharif, as he led his friends through a gateway and into a large courtyard.
Here they dismounted. Rashid's mother and his big brother, Ali, and all the other relations and servants rushed out to meet them. And wasn't Rashid glad to see them all again!
"Whatis that?" asked Hamid, who was awakened in the morning by the sound of a voice shouting, "Great is Allah!" He and Rashid were sleeping on the roof of the house, as city Arabs often do in the hot weather.
"That is the 'Muezzin,'" replied Rashid. "Come to the parapet and you can see him."
Rashid pointed to a tall, slender tower not far away. Near the top was a small balcony, on which a man was standing. He calls out these words every day at sunrise and sunset to remind the people that they must not forget to say their prayers. In a monotonous sing-song voice he calls: "Great is Allah! there is no God but Allah and Mohammed is hisProphet." When the people hear this cry, they rise and say their prayers, always looking toward Mecca, the Holy City.
Hamid could see five of these long needle-like towers or minarets, and a great green dome, rising above the tree-tops not far away.
two children scattering grain"THEY SCATTERED THE GRAIN ALL ABOUT THE COURTYARD."
"THEY SCATTERED THE GRAIN ALL ABOUT THE COURTYARD."
"That is the great Mosque," said Rashid; "and we are going there to-day because—" but he got no further, for just at that moment a dozen or more pigeons came flying about him, fluttering their wings on his face and perching on his shoulders.
"Oh, what pretty birds! How tame they are!" said Hamid, stroking the smooth wings of one of the white doves.
"They are my pets," said Rashid. "They come every morning to be fed. Let us give them their breakfasts." Leading the way to the storeroom on the ground floor, he filled a basket with grain which he took from one of the great bags which were always storedthere. Then they scattered the grain all about the courtyard in the centre of the house, to the great delight of the pigeons.
The little Bedouins were eager to see the city; and, of course, the first place that Rashid showed his friends was the great Mosque, as their church was called.
It was the same where Hamid had seen the "Muezzin" in the tower. This Mosque is very sacred to the Arabs, and they visit it at every opportunity, because it is the tomb of the great Arab Prophet Mohammed. When they reached the Mosque, they left their slippers outside, and, after saying a prayer or two, Rashid showed Hamid and Fatimah around the great building.
After this they walked down the long street that led from the Mosque to the great City Gate. Here were gathered all the shops. Such funny little shops! Nothing but little rickety wooden booths thatched with palm-leaves,and very dingy and dirty. However, they contained many wonderful and curious things. The children marvelled at them all. There were great strings and bunches of pink, red, and white coral that is found on the rocks in the Red Sea, and there were ornaments and jewelry made of mother-of-pearl; as well as many kinds of strange weapons, whose handles were inlaid with pieces of this same glittering shell.
"Just look at that lamp," said Hamid, "made from an ostrich's egg," as he stopped before one of the booths where the shells of the eggs of these big birds had been mounted in brass and silver and made into hanging-lamps, pipe-bowls, and vases.
Fatimah was very happy. She had found a booth where she could buy a pretty rose-coloured veil to replace the one she had lost in the desert.
In the shadow of the big City Gate a numberof children were sitting weaving baskets and mats of palm-leaves.
"How easily she does it," said Fatimah, as they stood watching one of the little girls plait the long strips of dry leaves into a pretty basket.
By the time our little party had walked up and down the long line of shops many times, they were quite ready to go home and rest in the balcony of the "majlis," or parlour of the house. The children soon found that this balcony was a very cosy nook in which to sit because it hung out over the street, so that they might easily see everything which went on in the big, lively square.
The "majlis" itself, which extended back into the house, was a great big, bare room with a divan of cushions around the walls and a large rug covering the floor in the centre. There was no furniture except a low table in the middle, on which were the hubble-bubblepipes and a brass tray which held the coffee-pot and cups. High up on the wall hung some swords and guns well out of the reach of the little folks.
Some days later Hamid was kneeling in the "majlis" balcony and peeping out through the carved wooden lattice which enclosed the balcony on the street side, while Fatimah stood behind him looking over his shoulder. Suddenly Rashid put his head in at the door and exclaimed: "I have been looking everywhere for thee."
"Just come and look out on the square, Rashid; it is full of people and camels and horses, and tents are being put up all over it," called out Hamid.
"It is the big caravan that comes from Damascus. They are the pilgrims on their way to the Holy City," said Rashid, joining them on the balcony. "I was looking everywherefor thee to tell thee of it. Father says there are many thousands of the pilgrims."
Such a bustle and scurrying about and noise as there was in the big square. Tents were being put up like magic, camels were being unloaded, and horses and donkeys and dromedaries were stamping around, and little children were tearing about everywhere and getting in the way,—for many of the pilgrims take their families with them.
"There are the tents of the Pacha, the chief of the caravan," said Rashid, pointing to the big green tents with gold crescents on their tops. The Pacha's tents occupied the chief place right in the middle of the square.
"The Pacha rides in a splendid litter swung between two beautiful horses, and those must be his dromedaries yonder with the rich trappings," said Rashid, who could explain all this to his little companions, because each year hehad seen the caravan arrive and depart, always with the same magnificence and splendour.
It is the religious duty of all good Mohammedans, as the followers of the Great Prophet are called, to make at least one pilgrimage to Mecca, the capital city of Arabia, called the "Holy City."
camel and some peopleTHE CARAVAN ON THE ROAD TO MECCA.
THE CARAVAN ON THE ROAD TO MECCA.
For this reason every year great caravans from far and near journey across Arabia carrying thousands of pilgrims to Mecca.
"See! see! I do believe there is Nawara," cried Fatimah, "there, just by the big tent."
"Yes, it is she," said Hamid, "and there is the old merchant, too."
With one accord the three children ran down into the square, dodging under camels and around tents, until at last they got to where Nawara was standing. The little girl was so astonished to see her friends of the desert that for a moment she could say nothing. Then she threw her arms around Fatimah,crying out how glad she was to see her again.
"But, Nawara, what are you doing here?" asked Fatimah.
"Grandfather is going to make the pilgrimage to the Holy City, and we are going with the caravan because it is safer," said Nawara, in her little wise way. "Then, too, grandfather will be able to sell his wares to the pilgrims."
The old merchant now joined them and was as pleased to see them again as was his little granddaughter. He had already put on the special dress that pilgrims wear, of white cloth with red stripes, and carried a big rosary of beads at his belt. When he told them that the caravan would stay there until the next day at evening, the children said that Nawara must stay with them until all was ready for the departure. So Nawara went to the great house with Fatimah. Later the old merchant came,too, and Rashid's mother gave them a nice supper. They all sat around a big tray filled with good things to eat, while Nawara told the children of all that had happened to her since they had parted in the desert.
All the next day the young folks waited for the sound of the cannon, which was to be the signal for the caravan to start. Every few minutes one or the other of the boys would rush into the house, saying that the gun had gone off and the camels were going; but it proved each time a false alarm, and Fatimah had just told Nawara to make up her mind to stay another night when the old merchant's servant came rushing in to say that the head of the caravan had already started and was just then passing out the great gate. So once more Nawara had to part from her kind little friends.
The children ran up on top of the house, and for a long time they could see the bigcaravan winding over the hills and through the plantations of palm-trees.
"Father, can't we go out to the palm groves to-day to see the men gather the dates? Many of the children of the city are going," begged Rashid.
"Yes," said Rashid's father. "I have no doubt but that all you young folks will be fighting together in no time, and there will be more stones gathered than dates. Remember what happened last week." So saying, the Sharif sat back on the divan and took another pull at his long pipe.
Rashid hung his head and tried to look sorry; but his eye twinkled when he thought of the wild scrimmage with sticks and stones that had taken place between the boys of the town and the boys outside the walls. He had fought on the side of the city boys; and, of course, Hamid, though he was of the desert himself, sided with him. There was alwaysgreat jealousy between these two clans of boys, and they were all the time carrying war into each other's territory; but, after all, not much damage was done on either side beyond some bruised heads and a few broken sticks.
"Thou hast become quite a fighter since thy life in the 'Black Tents,'" said his father; "but if Ali will go along to keep thee from getting into mischief, thou mayst go with thy little friends." Ali said that he would go, and they ran to saddle their ponies.
"How am I to go?" asked Fatimah.
"Oh, thou canst ride with me," said Hamid, like the good brother that he was; and Ali put her up on Zuleika behind Hamid. Away they trotted out of the great gate toward the large groves of palm-trees which surround Medina.
The road was lively with parties of children who, like themselves, were going to the palm groves; for it was the season when the Bedouinfarmers cut down the great bunches of dates, and every one, especially the children, made a regular picnic of it. All the children of the city, apparently, were hurrying along, some on horseback and many more on foot, all bent on having a good time.
Just behind our young people came some children riding on donkeys, trying their best to make their little donkeys keep up with the desert ponies of the boys.
Hamid looked back at them and sang out:
"The riding of a horse is an honour to the riderAnd joyful is his face;But the mule is a dishonourAnd the donkey a disgrace."
Then Rashid began to laugh. This made the little donkey boys very angry. Off they jumped from their donkeys, and were picking up stones to throw at Rashid and his friends, while Ali threatened them with his stick.
"No wonder father sent me with you tolook after you," said Ali, shaking his finger at Hamid and Rashid as they rode on laughing, "if you are bound to get into mischief as early in the day as this."
"But all the same no Bedouin boy would ride a donkey or a mule for anything," said Hamid.
"That is quite true among you desert people," said Ali; "but these town and farmer folk don't care on what they ride so long as they do not have to walk."
Now they had come to a large grove of palm-trees, and near one of the trees was a man standing with a rope in his hand.
"Let us stop here," said Ali, calling out to Rashid; "there is a man going to climb up to the top of a tree now."
The children jumped quickly off their horses and joined the group of people under the trees watching the man.
He had tied one end of the rope around hiswaist and had passed it around the slim trunk of the tree, attaching the other end also to his waist. With this rope holding him well up against the tree-trunk, he began to climb by holding on to the rough bark wherever he could get a hold for as much as one of his toes, at the same time bracing himself against the strong rope which held him.
"I should not like to do that," said Rashid.
"I wonder that he does not get giddy and fall," said Fatimah.
But the man went up easily, though he had a long way to climb. Like most date-palms, the tree was very tall, and the leaves and fruit all grew together on the very tip-top of the great stem or trunk. It was, as Hamid said, "just like the bunch of feathers on the end of his spear."
When the man finally did reach the bunch of dates, it was quite a job to cut through thebig stem, which was nearly as large around as his arm.
"Isn't that a big bunch?" said Hamid, as the man lowered the great golden-coloured dates to the ground.
"Yes," said Rashid, "but look, there must be some larger bunches still, for some are tied up to keep them from breaking off their stems."
The women and children were collecting the gathered dates and packing them in skins and boxes and baskets to be sent away to the markets; but the dried dates that we so often eat are left much longer on the trees to ripen and grow sugary.
"Oh, Hamid, thou and Fatimah must have a 'necklace ofsham' to wear! All the children have them!" said Rashid, who had been exploring the garden and had come running quickly back. "There is a woman making them now."
The woman was threading dates on a string and then dipping them into boiling water so that they would keep their pretty golden colour. Then she put them aside in the sun to dry.
Rashid bargained with the woman for three of the necklaces at once.
"It brings one good luck to wear a necklace of the dates of Medina," said the woman as she hung the strings of dates around the children's necks; "and thou must not eat them as this naughty one here has just done." She frowned at her own little girl, who stood by sobbing because her mother had just given her a box on the ear for eating half of her new necklace.
The children had a jolly time helping to pick the dates and pack them, though likely there was more play than work. And they all ate so many dates it was a wonder that they were not ill.
At sundown they rode back to the town, chaffing and laughing with everybody they met along the road. When they got home, hot and tired, Rashid's mother gave them a lovely drink made of the juice of fresh pomegranates, cooled in the snowy ice which was brought down to the city each night from the neighbouring mountains.
"Do you know why the letter 'O' is on every date stone?" asked Rashid that evening as he and Hamid were sitting in the courtyard playing checkers with date stones, while Fatimah sat watching the progress of the game. They often occupied themselves thus in the cool of the evening after supper.
"I have never seen the 'O;' where is it?" asked Hamid, carefully looking at a date stone as if he was only seeing one for the first time.
"There it is," said Rashid, who showed him a tiny round ring on one side of the date stone. "It is said that when our greatProphet first ate of the fruit of the date-palm, he exclaimed: 'Oh! what a fine fruit!' Ever since the letter 'O' has been found on every date stone."
Hamid and Fatimah began looking closely at every date stone they could find; and, sure enough, on every one of them there was a tiny letter "O." You will always find it there, too, if you look for it.
But the young people did not always play. In the early mornings and cool evenings Rashid and Hamid went to school in one corner of the great Mosque. Here the pupils sat in rows on mats, or lounged about on the floor. Before each pupil was a little wooden stand, on which lay a big book from which they shouted out their lessons in a loud voice. They made such a noise that one wonders how they could learn anything at all.
The other children called Hamid the little "Sheik" and often they would forget allabout lessons while they listened to his stories about the great desert. Meantime Fatimah was learning how to make many nice new dishes in the big kitchen at home, or she sat with her mother in the women's part of the house, learning how to sew like little city girls.
But, in spite of these happy days spent by the desert folk with the "People of the Walls," the little Bedouins began to long for the great wide desert and its life of freedom. Soon the end of their visit came; one day the little caravan could be seen making its way homeward to their own country far beyond the plain which came up to the city walls.
The first news that Hamid sent Rashid after he got home to the "Black Tents" was about the robber chief. His band had paid a ransom for him and he had been given his liberty, after he had promised solemnly not to attempt to rob or kill again. You mustknow that a promise made in the "Black Tents" is never broken.
The interchange of visits between Hamid and Rashid occurred regularly each year. Rashid learned of the ways of the dwellers in the "Black Tents;" and gained in health and strength until even Hamid was not his superior in hunting or the rougher games of the plains. Hamid, on the other hand, learned of the life in the Great City, and profited much from the loving companionship of his little friend among the "People of the Walls." Fatimah, too, shared in the happy visits and grew to be called "the beautiful daughter of the Sheik, wise with the wisdom of both desert and city."
THE END.
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Who Were the Little Colonel's Neighbors.
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A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by her beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one.
Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.
The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young people.
Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.
A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys and most girls.
Big Brother.
A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale.
Ole Mammy's Torment.
"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.
The Story of Dago.
In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing.
The Quilt That Jack Built.
A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the course of his life many years after it was accomplished.
Flip's Islands of Providence.
A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph, well worth the reading.
By EDITH ROBINSON
A Little Puritan's First Christmas.
A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam.
A Little Daughter of Liberty.
The author's motive for this story is well indicated by a quotation from her introduction, as follows:
"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another ride,—the ride of Anthony Severn,—which was no less historic in its action or memorable in its consequences."
A Loyal Little Maid.
A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George Washington.
A Little Puritan Rebel.
This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.
A Little Puritan Pioneer.
The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds another to the list of favorites so well known to the young people.
A Little Puritan Bound Girl.
A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to youthful readers.
A Little Puritan Cavalier.
The story of a "Little Puritan Cavalier" who tried with all his boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead Crusaders.
By OUIDA(Louise de la Ramée)
A Dog of Flanders:A Christmas Story.
Too well and favorably known to require description.
The Nurnberg Stove.
This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price.
By FRANCES MARGARET FOX
The Little Giant's Neighbours.
A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden.
Farmer Brown and the Birds.
A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best friends.
Betty of Old Mackinaw.
A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little readers who like stories of "real people."
Brother Billy.
The story of Betty's brother, and some further adventures of Betty herself.
Mother Nature's Little Ones.
Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors.
How Christmas Came to the Mulvaneys.
A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. The wonderful never-to-be forgotten Christmas that came to them is the climax of a series of exciting incidents.
By MISS MULOCK
The Little Lame Prince.
A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.
Adventures of a Brownie.
The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him.
His Little Mother.
Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant source of delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers.
Little Sunshine's Holiday.
An attractive story of a summer outing. "Little Sunshine" is another of those beautiful child-characters for which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.
By MARSHALL SAUNDERS
For His Country.
A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country; written with that charm which has endeared Miss Saunders to hosts of readers.
Nita, the Story of an Irish Setter.
In this touching little book, Miss Saunders shows how dear to her heart are all of God's dumb creatures.
Alpatok, the Story of an Eskimo Dog.
Alpatok, an Eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen from his master and left to starve in a strange city, but was befriended and cared for, until he was able to return to his owner. Miss Saunders's story is based on truth, and the pictures in the book of "Alpatok" are based on a photograph of the real Eskimo dog who had such a strange experience.
By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE
The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.
This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style.
The Fortunes of the Fellow.
Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of "The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow" will welcome the further account of the adventures of Baydaw and the Fellow at the home of the kindly smith.
The Best of Friends.
This continues the experiences of the Farrier's dog and his Fellow, written in Miss Dromgoole's well-known charming style.
Down in Dixie.
A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of Alabama children who move to Florida and grow up in the South.
By MARIAN W. WILDMAN
Loyalty Island.
An account of the adventures of four children and their pet dog on an island, and how they cleared their brother from the suspicion of dishonesty.
Theodore and Theodora.
This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mischievous twins, and continues the adventures of the interesting group of children in "Loyalty Island."
By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS
The Cruise of the Yacht Dido.
The story of two boys who turned their yacht into a fishing boat to earn money to pay for a college course, and of their adventures while exploring in search of hidden treasure.
The Lord of the AirThe Story of the EagleThe King of the MamozekelThe Story of the MooseThe Watchers of the Camp-fireTHE STORY OF THE PANTHERThe Haunter of the Pine GloomTHE STORY OF THE LYNXThe Return to the TrailsTHE STORY OF THE BEARThe Little People of the SycamoreTHE STORY OF THE RACCOON
By OTHER AUTHORS
The Great Scoop.
By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL
A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of a bright, enterprising, likable youngster employed thereon.
John Whopper.
The late Bishop Clark's popular story of the boy who fell through the earth and came out in China, with a new Introduction by Bishop Potter.
The Dole Twins.
By KATE UPSON CLARK
The adventures of two little people who tried to earn money to buy crutches for a lame aunt. An excellent description of child-life about 1812, which will greatly interest and amuse the children of to-day, whose life is widely different.
Larry Hudson's Ambition.
By JAMES OTIS, author of "Toby Tyler," etc.
Larry Hudson is a typical American boy, whose hard work and enterprise gain him his ambition,—an education and a start in the world.
The Little Christmas Shoe.
By JANE P. SCOTT WOODRUFF
A touching story of Yule-tide.
Wee Dorothy.
By LAURA UPDEGRAFF
A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and setting. With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether wholesome in every way.
The King of the Golden River:A Legend of Stiria.By JOHN RUSKIN
Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally intended for publication, this little fairy-tale soon became known and made a place for itself.
A Child's Garden of Verses.
By R. L. STEVENSON
Mr. Stevenson's little volume is too well known to need description. It will be heartily welcomed in this new and attractive edition.
THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS
(Trade Mark)By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTONEach, 1 vol. large, 12mo, cloth decorative, per vol. $1.50
The Little Colonel Stories.(Trade Mark)
Illustrated.
Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "The Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of Kentucky," and "The Giant Scissors," put into a single volume.
The Little Colonel's House Party.(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by Louis Meynell.
The Little Colonel's Holidays.(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman.
The Little Colonel's Hero.(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
The Little Colonel at Boarding School.(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
The Little Colonel in Arizona.(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
The Little Colonel's Christmas Vacation.(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
The Little Colonel, Maid of Honour.(Trade Mark)
Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
Since the time of "Little Women," no juvenile heroine has been better beloved of her child readers than Mrs. Johnston's "Little Colonel."
The Little Colonel.(Trade-Mark)
Two Little Knights of Kentucky.
The Giant Scissors.
A Special Holiday Edition of Mrs. Johnston's most famous books.
Each one volume, cloth decorative, small quarto, $1.25
New plates, handsomely illustrated, with eight full-page drawings in color.
"There are no brighter or better stories for boys and girls than these."—Chicago Record-Herald.
"The books are as satisfactory to the small girls, who find them adorable, as for the mothers and librarians, who delight in their influence."—Christian Register.
These three volumes, boxed as a three-volume set to complete the library editions of The Little Colonel books, $3.75
In the Desert of Waiting:The Legend of Camelback Mountain.
The Three Weavers:A Fairy Tale for Fathers and Mothers as Well as for Their Daughters.
Keeping Tryst.