CHAPTER IXSorrento, Where Hardships End"Fifteen miles to Sorrento. As near as I can find out, there'll be no money for us along the way," Guiseppe muttered as they left St. Andrew's Cathedral."There's Positano," said Marta, "and the villas. You have passed so many and stopped at none."Guiseppe looked surprised."So I have, fool that I am! Why didn't you speak of it before?"Marta made no reply and the three walked on in silence. Guiseppe evidently was brooding over the money he had missed, for after some half hour's tramp he turned to Marta."Why didn't you speak?" he growled. "Lords and ladies in the villas we have passed, and no money for me! Do you think we've done so well we can afford to lose a chance? Marta, you seem to have a way of keeping your mouth shut whenyou should open it, but you have been free enough with your tongue lately when you should have held it."Guiseppe was growing almost unbearable. He grumbled at everybody and everything.When they met women carrying wood to town, wine–venders and occasionally foreigners, he received their greetings with a scowl. Once or twice tourists had tossed Pappina a fewsoldi, but no one wanted the Punchinellos.The three visited a few villas, going up the alley, as it would be called in America, by the side of the house. The Punchinellos played, and Pappina sang and was paid and fed, but nothing satisfied Guiseppe. He grumbled continually. The harvest made on fete days had spoiled him for small gains."I'm sick of picking up meals wherever we can find them, and of sleeping on the hard ground," he said repeatedly to Marta, as though it were her fault that he was enduring discomforts. Guiseppe had been too many years in his home not to miss it. "Some people may like to tramp all over the country and pick up a living like dogs in an alley, but I'm sick of it, I tell you."It was first Marta, then Pappina who was made to feel his ill–humor. Neither cared to speak either to him or each other as hand in hand they followed Guiseppe. Once in a while he would turn to look behind, with ugly words to one or both.They made few stops. When told to sing, Pappina made every effort to please Guiseppe, but no matter how well she sang and danced he found fault with her.They were two days on the road from Amalfi to Sorrento; Guiseppe never once softened toward either Marta or Pappina. It was not to be expected that his wife should resent his treatment, for she was used to it; but Marta was in constant fear that Pappina would lose her temper and there would be trouble. The poor woman was relieved each night when the two were asleep and there had been no outbreak from the child.Nothing on the road interested Pappina; the luxuriant lemon and orange groves were passed unnoticed as she trudged, worn and footsore, along the hot, dusty road between the high garden walls.As they neared Sorrento, Marta tried to interest the child."Look,carina," she said, "these deep places are called ravines. Years ago when people believed in fairies, they used to say dwarfs lived all about Sorrento in these deep ravines that enclose it."Pappina made no reply. She seemed tired of everything except Marta. She held her good friend's hand tight and drew closer to her every time Guiseppe turned to look at them.As soon as the town was reached Guiseppe began his growling anew."Sorrento! So this is the town old Genaro talks about. Crowing over me! Seems to think he knows such a lot. Bah! Tasso! Tasso—bah, I say!""Is that where I am to sing, Guiseppe?" Pappina asked timidly as she shook the dust from her frayed little frock."I'm not talking to you. You had better learn to mind you own business. Marta, I'll not leave this town till I see where the sister of that man Tasso lived, and I'll see his statue, too.""Tasso." Marta spoke the name softly, not daring to question."Yes, Tasso. You don't know anything about him, and you don't need to know. If old Genaro thinks we haven't seen scenery since we've been traveling around the country, he's fooled."Pappina looked shyly into Guiseppe's set, hard face. Her curiosity was aroused and she wanted to know about Tasso."Signor Genaro might ask me about Tasso," she suggested, "and I don't know anything about him, do I?"Guiseppe looked at Pappina for a moment as though it were on his lips to rebuke her, turned on his heel and started to walk away, then came back."You're right for once, girl," he said, grudgingly. "Genaro might ask you, and I want you both to let him see you know about Tasso. It won't hurt either of you to learn something. Tasso was a famous poet. Well, let me see—what was it old Genaro told me? Oh, yes; I remember. He was very wild and ran away from home. The house where he was born and the rock on which it stood were swallowed by thesea, but his sister's house is here and the thing to do is to see that and to go to the Piazza and see his statue.""Now I remember," said Marta. "I went with the countess. She told me that he came back to his sister's house disguised as a shepherd, and that is why her home is of interest to tourists.""Bah! What do they care—what do I care—about a poet who has been dead over three hundred years? I'll go—I'll go. I'll give old Genaro to understand that I saw everything worth seeing. Marta, keep your eye on the upstart, or she'll be going too. Mind what I tell you."He mopped his brow, handed the Punchinellos to Marta, and was off. Pappina heaved a sigh of relief as she watched him go down the street. When he was quite out of sight, she took off her shoe and showed Marta the money she had hidden away. There were two francs and small coins in plenty."Don't tell Guiseppe; will you, Marta? It's for you and me to run away with to America when Guiseppe gets too bad. Take it, Marta, and keep it for us."Tarantella dancersThe tears came to Marta's eyes and her voice shook as she replied:"No, no, it's yours,bambina. Hide it back in your shoe. Marta likes to know her little one has money snugged away where she can use it if she needs it."Guiseppe soon returned in the same bad humor in which he had been all the way to Sorrento."Those Americans have sent for the Tarantella dancers to come to the Vittoria Hotel to–night to dance the Tarantella for them. They say they dance it better here than in Naples. We will take the upstart there and see what she is worth. Fix her up. There'll be a crowd."He looked at Pappina. Her face was drawnand white, her hair disordered, her frock soiled, wrinkled and torn."What's the matter with the girl?" he asked. "She looks like a hungry beggar. See her shoes, her dress all dirt and stains. Confound you, Pappina, where's your beauty gone? You are all eyes to–day, when you ought to look like something." He grabbed her fiercely by the arm and shook her. Pappina's hot Italian blood boiled."You coward!" she hissed the words. She doubled up her little fist and raised it to strike him. Guiseppe grabbed her hand and shook her again in his fury. Marta sprang to Pappina's rescue with a savage look on her face no one had ever seen there before. Guiseppe loosened his hold on Pappina and pushed her away from him with such force she would have fallen to the ground had not Marta caught her."Coward! Fiend! Coward!" the child hissed through her set teeth."Coward, eh! Call me names, will you? We'll see after to–night. Marta, wash her impudent face; comb her hair; for heaven's sake do something! They'll think she is no more than abeggar, and they are sick of beggars. We found that out at Amalfi, where the whole town begs."Marta washed Pappina, combed her hair, and tried to smooth out her dress and make her acceptable to Guiseppe; but he seemed determined not to be pleased."Can't you keep your eyelids down a little?" he said to the child. "I tell you, you are all eyes to–day—great big, black, staring eyes! Pinch up her cheeks, Marta; see if you can't get some color in them."Pappina looked pleadingly first at Marta then at Guiseppe, then burst into tears."Stop your crying, you wild–eyed beggar! Lost your spirit, too? What are you good for, I'd like to know, with beauty and spirit both gone!"Pappina dried her tears and choked back her sobs, while Marta stood as if paralyzed. She longed to soothe the child, yet dared not, her old fear of Guiseppe upon her again."There'll be great dancing at the Vittoria to–night. Get up and show me what you can do. You needn't sing; I want to see your dancing."Pappina did not move."Are you deaf, too? Didn't you hear me? I say dance!""Guiseppe," came faintly from the frightened child, "I will try to please you to–night, but I cannot dance now. Be good to me; then I shall be happy and dance all night if you wish me to.""Oh, it's your own way you want again, is it? For once I want mine and I'll have it, too. Dance now—at once!""I'll try."She tried. Her body was quivering from excitement and fear. Her little blistered foot pained her. She couldn't dance. Guiseppe watched her angrily, Marta tearfully, as she lifted her tambourine, struck it and danced one step—two—then dropped on her knees."Pieta, pieta[pity, pity], signor," she cried. "I cannot dance now. To–night—with the music, the people and the dancers—I will dance well then; not now, Guiseppe. I pray you, dear Marta, tell him I cannot."Guiseppe took up a big stick that was lying near him. He struck Pappina once—twice. She was on her feet like a flash. She started to run, Guiseppe seized her by her dress; it slippedthrough his fingers and before he had time to collect himself she was gone, speeding like a deer down the street. She was running away from Guiseppe, she neither knew nor cared where.Down the street, turning one corner after another, on, on to themarina, where she was soon lost in the throng of boys and tourists. She jumped into a row–boat just as the oarsman was starting with his load of passengers for the steamer leaving Sorrento for Naples.There were a few moments of suspense; then she was hurried aboard the steamer with the others. She was safe!Guiseppe, as he sprang after Pappina, stumbled on his own cruel stick. When he got to his feet the child was turning a corner. He saw the little red dress and its owner disappear from his view forever. He glared in a frenzy at Marta."Curse her! Curse her!" he shrieked. "To–day of all days to get away from me! Marta, have you turned to stone? Why don't you move? Why didn't you run after her, instead of standing there staring like a mummy? We must have her before dark. Go—search everywhere. Move!—Don't stop till you find her."
Sorrento, Where Hardships End
"Fifteen miles to Sorrento. As near as I can find out, there'll be no money for us along the way," Guiseppe muttered as they left St. Andrew's Cathedral.
"There's Positano," said Marta, "and the villas. You have passed so many and stopped at none."
Guiseppe looked surprised.
"So I have, fool that I am! Why didn't you speak of it before?"
Marta made no reply and the three walked on in silence. Guiseppe evidently was brooding over the money he had missed, for after some half hour's tramp he turned to Marta.
"Why didn't you speak?" he growled. "Lords and ladies in the villas we have passed, and no money for me! Do you think we've done so well we can afford to lose a chance? Marta, you seem to have a way of keeping your mouth shut whenyou should open it, but you have been free enough with your tongue lately when you should have held it."
Guiseppe was growing almost unbearable. He grumbled at everybody and everything.
When they met women carrying wood to town, wine–venders and occasionally foreigners, he received their greetings with a scowl. Once or twice tourists had tossed Pappina a fewsoldi, but no one wanted the Punchinellos.
The three visited a few villas, going up the alley, as it would be called in America, by the side of the house. The Punchinellos played, and Pappina sang and was paid and fed, but nothing satisfied Guiseppe. He grumbled continually. The harvest made on fete days had spoiled him for small gains.
"I'm sick of picking up meals wherever we can find them, and of sleeping on the hard ground," he said repeatedly to Marta, as though it were her fault that he was enduring discomforts. Guiseppe had been too many years in his home not to miss it. "Some people may like to tramp all over the country and pick up a living like dogs in an alley, but I'm sick of it, I tell you."
It was first Marta, then Pappina who was made to feel his ill–humor. Neither cared to speak either to him or each other as hand in hand they followed Guiseppe. Once in a while he would turn to look behind, with ugly words to one or both.
They made few stops. When told to sing, Pappina made every effort to please Guiseppe, but no matter how well she sang and danced he found fault with her.
They were two days on the road from Amalfi to Sorrento; Guiseppe never once softened toward either Marta or Pappina. It was not to be expected that his wife should resent his treatment, for she was used to it; but Marta was in constant fear that Pappina would lose her temper and there would be trouble. The poor woman was relieved each night when the two were asleep and there had been no outbreak from the child.
Nothing on the road interested Pappina; the luxuriant lemon and orange groves were passed unnoticed as she trudged, worn and footsore, along the hot, dusty road between the high garden walls.
As they neared Sorrento, Marta tried to interest the child.
"Look,carina," she said, "these deep places are called ravines. Years ago when people believed in fairies, they used to say dwarfs lived all about Sorrento in these deep ravines that enclose it."
Pappina made no reply. She seemed tired of everything except Marta. She held her good friend's hand tight and drew closer to her every time Guiseppe turned to look at them.
As soon as the town was reached Guiseppe began his growling anew.
"Sorrento! So this is the town old Genaro talks about. Crowing over me! Seems to think he knows such a lot. Bah! Tasso! Tasso—bah, I say!"
"Is that where I am to sing, Guiseppe?" Pappina asked timidly as she shook the dust from her frayed little frock.
"I'm not talking to you. You had better learn to mind you own business. Marta, I'll not leave this town till I see where the sister of that man Tasso lived, and I'll see his statue, too."
"Tasso." Marta spoke the name softly, not daring to question.
"Yes, Tasso. You don't know anything about him, and you don't need to know. If old Genaro thinks we haven't seen scenery since we've been traveling around the country, he's fooled."
Pappina looked shyly into Guiseppe's set, hard face. Her curiosity was aroused and she wanted to know about Tasso.
"Signor Genaro might ask me about Tasso," she suggested, "and I don't know anything about him, do I?"
Guiseppe looked at Pappina for a moment as though it were on his lips to rebuke her, turned on his heel and started to walk away, then came back.
"You're right for once, girl," he said, grudgingly. "Genaro might ask you, and I want you both to let him see you know about Tasso. It won't hurt either of you to learn something. Tasso was a famous poet. Well, let me see—what was it old Genaro told me? Oh, yes; I remember. He was very wild and ran away from home. The house where he was born and the rock on which it stood were swallowed by thesea, but his sister's house is here and the thing to do is to see that and to go to the Piazza and see his statue."
"Now I remember," said Marta. "I went with the countess. She told me that he came back to his sister's house disguised as a shepherd, and that is why her home is of interest to tourists."
"Bah! What do they care—what do I care—about a poet who has been dead over three hundred years? I'll go—I'll go. I'll give old Genaro to understand that I saw everything worth seeing. Marta, keep your eye on the upstart, or she'll be going too. Mind what I tell you."
He mopped his brow, handed the Punchinellos to Marta, and was off. Pappina heaved a sigh of relief as she watched him go down the street. When he was quite out of sight, she took off her shoe and showed Marta the money she had hidden away. There were two francs and small coins in plenty.
"Don't tell Guiseppe; will you, Marta? It's for you and me to run away with to America when Guiseppe gets too bad. Take it, Marta, and keep it for us."
Tarantella dancers
Tarantella dancers
Tarantella dancers
The tears came to Marta's eyes and her voice shook as she replied:
"No, no, it's yours,bambina. Hide it back in your shoe. Marta likes to know her little one has money snugged away where she can use it if she needs it."
Guiseppe soon returned in the same bad humor in which he had been all the way to Sorrento.
"Those Americans have sent for the Tarantella dancers to come to the Vittoria Hotel to–night to dance the Tarantella for them. They say they dance it better here than in Naples. We will take the upstart there and see what she is worth. Fix her up. There'll be a crowd."
He looked at Pappina. Her face was drawnand white, her hair disordered, her frock soiled, wrinkled and torn.
"What's the matter with the girl?" he asked. "She looks like a hungry beggar. See her shoes, her dress all dirt and stains. Confound you, Pappina, where's your beauty gone? You are all eyes to–day, when you ought to look like something." He grabbed her fiercely by the arm and shook her. Pappina's hot Italian blood boiled.
"You coward!" she hissed the words. She doubled up her little fist and raised it to strike him. Guiseppe grabbed her hand and shook her again in his fury. Marta sprang to Pappina's rescue with a savage look on her face no one had ever seen there before. Guiseppe loosened his hold on Pappina and pushed her away from him with such force she would have fallen to the ground had not Marta caught her.
"Coward! Fiend! Coward!" the child hissed through her set teeth.
"Coward, eh! Call me names, will you? We'll see after to–night. Marta, wash her impudent face; comb her hair; for heaven's sake do something! They'll think she is no more than abeggar, and they are sick of beggars. We found that out at Amalfi, where the whole town begs."
Marta washed Pappina, combed her hair, and tried to smooth out her dress and make her acceptable to Guiseppe; but he seemed determined not to be pleased.
"Can't you keep your eyelids down a little?" he said to the child. "I tell you, you are all eyes to–day—great big, black, staring eyes! Pinch up her cheeks, Marta; see if you can't get some color in them."
Pappina looked pleadingly first at Marta then at Guiseppe, then burst into tears.
"Stop your crying, you wild–eyed beggar! Lost your spirit, too? What are you good for, I'd like to know, with beauty and spirit both gone!"
Pappina dried her tears and choked back her sobs, while Marta stood as if paralyzed. She longed to soothe the child, yet dared not, her old fear of Guiseppe upon her again.
"There'll be great dancing at the Vittoria to–night. Get up and show me what you can do. You needn't sing; I want to see your dancing."
Pappina did not move.
"Are you deaf, too? Didn't you hear me? I say dance!"
"Guiseppe," came faintly from the frightened child, "I will try to please you to–night, but I cannot dance now. Be good to me; then I shall be happy and dance all night if you wish me to."
"Oh, it's your own way you want again, is it? For once I want mine and I'll have it, too. Dance now—at once!"
"I'll try."
She tried. Her body was quivering from excitement and fear. Her little blistered foot pained her. She couldn't dance. Guiseppe watched her angrily, Marta tearfully, as she lifted her tambourine, struck it and danced one step—two—then dropped on her knees.
"Pieta, pieta[pity, pity], signor," she cried. "I cannot dance now. To–night—with the music, the people and the dancers—I will dance well then; not now, Guiseppe. I pray you, dear Marta, tell him I cannot."
Guiseppe took up a big stick that was lying near him. He struck Pappina once—twice. She was on her feet like a flash. She started to run, Guiseppe seized her by her dress; it slippedthrough his fingers and before he had time to collect himself she was gone, speeding like a deer down the street. She was running away from Guiseppe, she neither knew nor cared where.
Down the street, turning one corner after another, on, on to themarina, where she was soon lost in the throng of boys and tourists. She jumped into a row–boat just as the oarsman was starting with his load of passengers for the steamer leaving Sorrento for Naples.
There were a few moments of suspense; then she was hurried aboard the steamer with the others. She was safe!
Guiseppe, as he sprang after Pappina, stumbled on his own cruel stick. When he got to his feet the child was turning a corner. He saw the little red dress and its owner disappear from his view forever. He glared in a frenzy at Marta.
"Curse her! Curse her!" he shrieked. "To–day of all days to get away from me! Marta, have you turned to stone? Why don't you move? Why didn't you run after her, instead of standing there staring like a mummy? We must have her before dark. Go—search everywhere. Move!—Don't stop till you find her."
CHAPTER XNaples, and a New LifePappina stood on the deck, holding fast to the railing for support. Her face was livid, her body shook. She looked anxiously toward the shore to see if she had been followed. There were no signs of Guiseppe!She kept her eyes riveted on the boys splashing in the water until they appeared mere specks in the distance. Then, worn out with excitement, she sank down and burst into tears. Stifling her sobs, presently the child fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.The captain, passing that way, saw Pappina curled up on the deck. He could not see her winsome, beautiful face, for it was buried in her arms as she lay there sleeping. He saw just a child with a tattered, dirty dress and ragged little shoes. He gave her a kick."Get up," he said. "What are you doing here? This is no place for beggars; move on."Pappina jumped up quickly. He had called her a beggar. She looked at him with flashing eyes."Beggar!" cried she. "No, signor, I'm not a beggar. You want money? I have it, I can pay." She began to unfasten one of her little worn shoes. The captain stood watching her, perplexed."What does it mean?" he asked himself. "She has such beauty and pride, and her clothes are so poor! She is alone and has money in her shoe. I am puzzled this time, for sure."He tugged fiercely at his long black mustache, waiting to see what she would offer him from her store. She brought up coins and handed him a franc."Is that enough, signor?" she asked. "I have more."Looking into the unfathomable depths of those great velvet eyes, the captain would have refused the wealth of Crœsus had she offered it. Her beauty and her independence conquered him."Keep your money, child. As long as I run the boat you ride free.""Grazie, buono signor[Thanks, good sir]. May I go inside? The boat rocks so. I feel—mayI lie down just a little while, signor? I have my tambourine and I can sing and dance for you by–and–by when my head—when I am not so dizzy.""Go inside, child, and lie down. I will look after you soon."Pappina, catching hold of chairs and benches to steady herself, staggered inside and lay down, dizzy and faint. She was too sick even to think or to wonder where the boat was taking her.The steamer was filled with people returning from Capri and the wonderful Blue Grotto. Among the tourists was Mrs. Elinor Thurston, a childless American widow traveling abroad with friends, seeking some new interest from day to day—anything to make her forget the loss of her husband and her only child. She noticed Pappina's pale, beautiful face and her glorious eyes. There was something about the child that reminded Mrs. Thurston of her boy. She watched Pappina intently as the little girl threw herself on the floor. The forlorn figure interested her, lying with her tambourine tightly clasped in her hands."Poor child!" she murmured softly."Such a picture!" exclaimed one of the tourists."I must take a snap–shot of this typical little Italian beauty."Pappina, hearing voices near her, opened her eyes. Her glance fell upon the sweet face of Mrs. Thurston, who sat looking kindly at her. The child smiled faintly, closed her eyes again, and was asleep.That smile won Mrs. Thurston. She watched to see who was with the little girl, and seeing no one she inquired of the captain:"Tell me, who is with that beautiful child?" Her face was diffused with tender, earnest solicitude as she gazed at the little figure lying at their feet."No one, apparently; she seems to be alone."The captain then related to Mrs. Thurston how the little girl had taken money from her shoe and offered it to him for her fare.Pappina began to talk in her sleep."He struck me," she murmured. "It hurt me so!" They tried to make out her words, so jumbled at first, then clearer and louder, till she fairly screamed: "Guiseppe, how dare you strike me? Marta, hold him. I hate him! I wish he were dead—I do, for I hate him!"Mrs. Thurston stooped and took hold of the child's hot little hand."See how flushed her face is!" she whispered. "Her pulse is too quick; she is feverish, poor child," she said with pity as she gently picked her up and placed her on a sofa."She is my charge and I'll stay with her," she told the friends who urged her to go on deck and enjoy the beautiful scenery."Scenery!" she exclaimed as she took Pappina's hand in hers. "There is nothing so beautiful as this child. I am almost hoping no one will claim her when we land at Naples, for I need her. Her eyes are like my Harold's, so—" She could not finish the sentence for the tears that welled to her eyes and the sorrow that choked her.At Naples no one came for Pappina, alone and sick, still tossing her head in pain and fever."I cannot leave her," her new friend declared. "She must be cared for. Oh, how glad I am that I can do everything for her!"Pappina, still unconscious, was carried to a carriage and taken to the International Hospital."See that every attention is given her," Mrs. Thurston said. "Leave nothing undone. Hereis my card, and I am responsible for her. I will be back in the morning."It was hard for Mrs. Thurston to leave Pappina, but friends were waiting for her and there was an engagement to fulfill.The nurse put Pappina to bed, dressed in a little white nightgown, the first she had ever worn.Early the following day Mrs. Thurston called."How is she?" she inquired eagerly. "Still unconscious? Take me to her. All night I have thought and dreamed of her. Her eyes have haunted me even in my sleep. Take me to her."She asked anxiously if any one had sought the child."No one? Oh, joy! Perhaps I may have her for my own."Enrichetta, the nurse, showed the welts on the child's body—two red marks from Guiseppe's stick."Povera figlietta[Poor little girl]," she said. "It is now quite certain she will have a run of fever."The excitement and strain of the past few weeks had proved too much for Pappina. In her delirium it was always of Guiseppe she spoke. She wouldbeg, plead and defy him, start to sing, then cry: "The tambourine will make no music. It is broken. I cannot sing or dance now, Guiseppe, for my head hurts and the sun is so hot."It was easy to gather from her delirious talk some idea of the hard life she had led.No artist's dream could have appeared more beautiful than she, as she lay in her bed. Mrs. Thurston came every day, sometimes twice, to see her. In Pappina she had found a real interest in life; and her motherly heart warmed toward this lovely, abused child.True love for Pappina sprang up in her heart in the days of the child's convalescence. In the long talks the two had together there was never a word of complaint against Guiseppe. The physician and nurse in charge with Mrs. Thurston questioned her and she willingly told them all, but never with complaints."I think I was as bad as I could be, because, you see, Guiseppe paid money for me, and sometimes when I was tired I did not want to sing and dance. Oh, please don't make me go back to him!""I will find Guiseppe," declared Mrs. Thurston."I will pay him back with interest all he paid for you, and you may be my little girl if you will.""Your little girl! I the little girl of such a lady!" The bright look on the child's face changed as she continued:"You haven't seen my clothes. The red dress was splendid before I spoiled it and my shoes were new once.""Never mind the clothes. New clothes go with your new life, dear."All the time Pappina was recovering, Mrs. Thurston was having search made for Guiseppe. Two days before Pappina left the hospital, he was found on the Toledo with his Punchinellos. Those employed to find him were looking for a Punchinello showman with a brown–haired, pale–faced English wife. All about Naples they searched, but in vain.Finding, one day, a man who exactly answered the description given of Guiseppe, the detective stopped, watched his show a while, then accosted him."I seek," he said, "for Guiseppe Capasso.""I am he," replied Guiseppe."I have passed you many times," continuedthe detective. "I sought a man with a wife, an Englishwoman who passes the hat.""Ohime[Ah, me]!" exclaimed Guiseppe. "I had a wife, but she is no more. A sudden illness took her from me. Poor Marta!" Guiseppe bowed his head in sorrow."I came to speak of the child.""Pappina!" cried Guiseppe. "Where is she? Poor Marta,sposa mia[my wife]—she died with Pappina's name on her lips." Guiseppe sobbed in sincere grief.For a time he seemed to forget everything but the loss of his patient, long–suffering wife. Gradually it was made known to him that there was money awaiting him if he would give up all claim to Pappina. Guiseppe never paid for Pappina what Mrs. Thurston paid Guiseppe. She wanted Pappina and money was no object to her.They thought best not to speak to Pappina of her home, but let her forget about it as soon as possible. Pietro was proud to give his child to so grand a lady, who would educate and do for her as her very own. So it came about that Mrs. Elinor Thurston adopted Pappina Pierno.Nothing could have been sweeter than Pappinawhen she was dressed for the first time after her illness. Those who were with her laughed and cried to see her fondle her clothes. Such wonderful underwear, so sheer and dainty, with ribbon and lace! Her delight was almost pathetic. If Mrs. Thurston was hungry for affection she certainly found all she desired in Pappina, with her impulsive, appreciative nature.Mrs. Thurston seemed to live only in and for the child. Such shopping days as they had! Such a trunk full of clothes as they bought—dresses, hats, coats, gloves, handkerchiefs—and perfume too, if you please!They were a month in Naples and Switzerland; then Mrs. Thurston decided she would go home, back to America to have Pappina learn English and begin her education."I'm really going to America to live, and not just to run away from Guiseppe? Sometimes, mamma," shyly she said to Mrs. Thurston, "I think I must be dreaming, but if I am, I never want to awaken.""We will keep your tambourine for our souvenir,carissima, and when you think you are only dreaming, just strike your tambourine."
Naples, and a New Life
Pappina stood on the deck, holding fast to the railing for support. Her face was livid, her body shook. She looked anxiously toward the shore to see if she had been followed. There were no signs of Guiseppe!
She kept her eyes riveted on the boys splashing in the water until they appeared mere specks in the distance. Then, worn out with excitement, she sank down and burst into tears. Stifling her sobs, presently the child fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
The captain, passing that way, saw Pappina curled up on the deck. He could not see her winsome, beautiful face, for it was buried in her arms as she lay there sleeping. He saw just a child with a tattered, dirty dress and ragged little shoes. He gave her a kick.
"Get up," he said. "What are you doing here? This is no place for beggars; move on."
Pappina jumped up quickly. He had called her a beggar. She looked at him with flashing eyes.
"Beggar!" cried she. "No, signor, I'm not a beggar. You want money? I have it, I can pay." She began to unfasten one of her little worn shoes. The captain stood watching her, perplexed.
"What does it mean?" he asked himself. "She has such beauty and pride, and her clothes are so poor! She is alone and has money in her shoe. I am puzzled this time, for sure."
He tugged fiercely at his long black mustache, waiting to see what she would offer him from her store. She brought up coins and handed him a franc.
"Is that enough, signor?" she asked. "I have more."
Looking into the unfathomable depths of those great velvet eyes, the captain would have refused the wealth of Crœsus had she offered it. Her beauty and her independence conquered him.
"Keep your money, child. As long as I run the boat you ride free."
"Grazie, buono signor[Thanks, good sir]. May I go inside? The boat rocks so. I feel—mayI lie down just a little while, signor? I have my tambourine and I can sing and dance for you by–and–by when my head—when I am not so dizzy."
"Go inside, child, and lie down. I will look after you soon."
Pappina, catching hold of chairs and benches to steady herself, staggered inside and lay down, dizzy and faint. She was too sick even to think or to wonder where the boat was taking her.
The steamer was filled with people returning from Capri and the wonderful Blue Grotto. Among the tourists was Mrs. Elinor Thurston, a childless American widow traveling abroad with friends, seeking some new interest from day to day—anything to make her forget the loss of her husband and her only child. She noticed Pappina's pale, beautiful face and her glorious eyes. There was something about the child that reminded Mrs. Thurston of her boy. She watched Pappina intently as the little girl threw herself on the floor. The forlorn figure interested her, lying with her tambourine tightly clasped in her hands.
"Poor child!" she murmured softly.
"Such a picture!" exclaimed one of the tourists."I must take a snap–shot of this typical little Italian beauty."
Pappina, hearing voices near her, opened her eyes. Her glance fell upon the sweet face of Mrs. Thurston, who sat looking kindly at her. The child smiled faintly, closed her eyes again, and was asleep.
That smile won Mrs. Thurston. She watched to see who was with the little girl, and seeing no one she inquired of the captain:
"Tell me, who is with that beautiful child?" Her face was diffused with tender, earnest solicitude as she gazed at the little figure lying at their feet.
"No one, apparently; she seems to be alone."
The captain then related to Mrs. Thurston how the little girl had taken money from her shoe and offered it to him for her fare.
Pappina began to talk in her sleep.
"He struck me," she murmured. "It hurt me so!" They tried to make out her words, so jumbled at first, then clearer and louder, till she fairly screamed: "Guiseppe, how dare you strike me? Marta, hold him. I hate him! I wish he were dead—I do, for I hate him!"
Mrs. Thurston stooped and took hold of the child's hot little hand.
"See how flushed her face is!" she whispered. "Her pulse is too quick; she is feverish, poor child," she said with pity as she gently picked her up and placed her on a sofa.
"She is my charge and I'll stay with her," she told the friends who urged her to go on deck and enjoy the beautiful scenery.
"Scenery!" she exclaimed as she took Pappina's hand in hers. "There is nothing so beautiful as this child. I am almost hoping no one will claim her when we land at Naples, for I need her. Her eyes are like my Harold's, so—" She could not finish the sentence for the tears that welled to her eyes and the sorrow that choked her.
At Naples no one came for Pappina, alone and sick, still tossing her head in pain and fever.
"I cannot leave her," her new friend declared. "She must be cared for. Oh, how glad I am that I can do everything for her!"
Pappina, still unconscious, was carried to a carriage and taken to the International Hospital.
"See that every attention is given her," Mrs. Thurston said. "Leave nothing undone. Hereis my card, and I am responsible for her. I will be back in the morning."
It was hard for Mrs. Thurston to leave Pappina, but friends were waiting for her and there was an engagement to fulfill.
The nurse put Pappina to bed, dressed in a little white nightgown, the first she had ever worn.
Early the following day Mrs. Thurston called.
"How is she?" she inquired eagerly. "Still unconscious? Take me to her. All night I have thought and dreamed of her. Her eyes have haunted me even in my sleep. Take me to her."
She asked anxiously if any one had sought the child.
"No one? Oh, joy! Perhaps I may have her for my own."
Enrichetta, the nurse, showed the welts on the child's body—two red marks from Guiseppe's stick.
"Povera figlietta[Poor little girl]," she said. "It is now quite certain she will have a run of fever."
The excitement and strain of the past few weeks had proved too much for Pappina. In her delirium it was always of Guiseppe she spoke. She wouldbeg, plead and defy him, start to sing, then cry: "The tambourine will make no music. It is broken. I cannot sing or dance now, Guiseppe, for my head hurts and the sun is so hot."
It was easy to gather from her delirious talk some idea of the hard life she had led.
No artist's dream could have appeared more beautiful than she, as she lay in her bed. Mrs. Thurston came every day, sometimes twice, to see her. In Pappina she had found a real interest in life; and her motherly heart warmed toward this lovely, abused child.
True love for Pappina sprang up in her heart in the days of the child's convalescence. In the long talks the two had together there was never a word of complaint against Guiseppe. The physician and nurse in charge with Mrs. Thurston questioned her and she willingly told them all, but never with complaints.
"I think I was as bad as I could be, because, you see, Guiseppe paid money for me, and sometimes when I was tired I did not want to sing and dance. Oh, please don't make me go back to him!"
"I will find Guiseppe," declared Mrs. Thurston."I will pay him back with interest all he paid for you, and you may be my little girl if you will."
"Your little girl! I the little girl of such a lady!" The bright look on the child's face changed as she continued:
"You haven't seen my clothes. The red dress was splendid before I spoiled it and my shoes were new once."
"Never mind the clothes. New clothes go with your new life, dear."
All the time Pappina was recovering, Mrs. Thurston was having search made for Guiseppe. Two days before Pappina left the hospital, he was found on the Toledo with his Punchinellos. Those employed to find him were looking for a Punchinello showman with a brown–haired, pale–faced English wife. All about Naples they searched, but in vain.
Finding, one day, a man who exactly answered the description given of Guiseppe, the detective stopped, watched his show a while, then accosted him.
"I seek," he said, "for Guiseppe Capasso."
"I am he," replied Guiseppe.
"I have passed you many times," continuedthe detective. "I sought a man with a wife, an Englishwoman who passes the hat."
"Ohime[Ah, me]!" exclaimed Guiseppe. "I had a wife, but she is no more. A sudden illness took her from me. Poor Marta!" Guiseppe bowed his head in sorrow.
"I came to speak of the child."
"Pappina!" cried Guiseppe. "Where is she? Poor Marta,sposa mia[my wife]—she died with Pappina's name on her lips." Guiseppe sobbed in sincere grief.
For a time he seemed to forget everything but the loss of his patient, long–suffering wife. Gradually it was made known to him that there was money awaiting him if he would give up all claim to Pappina. Guiseppe never paid for Pappina what Mrs. Thurston paid Guiseppe. She wanted Pappina and money was no object to her.
They thought best not to speak to Pappina of her home, but let her forget about it as soon as possible. Pietro was proud to give his child to so grand a lady, who would educate and do for her as her very own. So it came about that Mrs. Elinor Thurston adopted Pappina Pierno.
Nothing could have been sweeter than Pappinawhen she was dressed for the first time after her illness. Those who were with her laughed and cried to see her fondle her clothes. Such wonderful underwear, so sheer and dainty, with ribbon and lace! Her delight was almost pathetic. If Mrs. Thurston was hungry for affection she certainly found all she desired in Pappina, with her impulsive, appreciative nature.
Mrs. Thurston seemed to live only in and for the child. Such shopping days as they had! Such a trunk full of clothes as they bought—dresses, hats, coats, gloves, handkerchiefs—and perfume too, if you please!
They were a month in Naples and Switzerland; then Mrs. Thurston decided she would go home, back to America to have Pappina learn English and begin her education.
"I'm really going to America to live, and not just to run away from Guiseppe? Sometimes, mamma," shyly she said to Mrs. Thurston, "I think I must be dreaming, but if I am, I never want to awaken."
"We will keep your tambourine for our souvenir,carissima, and when you think you are only dreaming, just strike your tambourine."
BUNNY and BEAR BOOKSByLAURA ROUNTREE SMITHFor Grades 2–3Few books for little folks have attained the popularity that has been accorded the Bunny and Bear Books. Rabbit and bear life with all its quaintness and humor forms the nucleus around which these entertaining stories are woven. Each book is a continuous story, complete in itself. The many illustrations are in the fullest sense both illustrative and explanatory. Cloth. Illustrated.THE TALE OF BUNNY COTTON–TAILTells of Bunny's early experiences, his school days, naughty pranks, friendship for Susan Cotton–Tail, troubles with Farmer Jones, etc.95 pages.16 illustrations and frontispiece in colors.Price, 25 cents.BUNNY BOY AND GRIZZLY BEARRelates the doings of Bunny Boy, a waif that came to the home of Bunny and Susan Cotton–Tail, and the stories that Grizzly Bear told them.112 pages.36 illustrations and frontispiece in colors.Price, 25 cents.BUNNY BRIGHT EYESThe experiences of Bunny Bright Eyes are many and varied. He takes part in a county fair, performs at a circus, etc.98 pages.16 illustrations and frontispiece in colors.Price, 25 cents.THREE LITTLE COTTON–TAILSHere we spend days with Mother Cotton–Tail and her three children. Their home life, troubles and pranks, their visit to relatives, etc., both interest and amuse us.98 pages.13 illustrations and frontispiece in colors.Price, 25 cents.LITTLE BEARLittle Bear is the youngest of a family of seventeen cubs. Other characters of the forest take active part in the story.126 pages.30 illustrations and frontispiece in colors.Price, 30 cents.SEVENTEEN LITTLE BEARSA happy account of the clever doings of a family of seventeen bears; their education, Thanksgiving and Christmas.128 pages.21 illustrations and frontispiece in colorsPrice, 30 cents.GREAT AMERICAN INDUSTRIESByF. W. ROCHELEAUIn Four Volumes. For Grades 5–8.The study of industry and commerce is receiving more and more attention in our schools each year, and the matter contained in these books is most desirable to supplement the regular course. The series, too, is unique in that it presents a history as well as a description of topics discussed. This feature makes it a valuable asset in connection with the study of history, while knowledge of these processes is also often of great advantage, whatever position a person may occupy in life.The subject–matter has been obtained from direct observation and consultation of the most recent standard authorities. Care has been taken in the selection of topics to include only those which are of general interest on account of their relation to our everyday life, and the development of the nation. Each book is profusely illustrated with reproductions of photographs, drawings, maps, charts, etc., elucidating the text and adding greatly to the value of the work.MINERALSTreats of Coal, Petroleum, Natural Gas, Iron, Marble, Granite, Slate,Gold, Silver, Copper and Zinc.With sixty–four illustrations. 213 pages. Cloth. Price, 50 cents.PRODUCTS OF THE SOILTakes up Lumber, including valuable matter on forests and forestry,Sugar, Cotton, Indian Corn, Wheat, and Fruits.With fifty–seven illustrations. 194 pages. Cloth. Price, 50 cents.MANUFACTURESTreats of the manufacture of Motors, Glass, Leather, Boots and Shoes,Dressed Meats, Pins, Needles, Pencils, Pens,Paper, Newspapers, and also of Printing.With forty–eight illustrations. 222 pages. Cloth. Price, 50 cents.TRANSPORTATIONTraces the history of each branch of the transportation industry from the early period until the present time, devoting due space to modern methods of transportation and communication. The arrangement is as follows: Primitive Methods of Travel and Transportation, Roads and Carriages, Waterways, Inland Waterways, Railways, Electric Railways, Mountain Railways, Express, Carrying the Mails.With colored map and sixty–seven illustrations. 263 pages. Cloth.Price, 60 cents.A LIBRARY OF TRAVELThe Little Journeys SeriesFor Grades 5–8Nineteen uniform volumesThese charming books of reliable, up–to–date information, are an acknowledged superior series of geographical readers. They furnish a unique and vivid portrayal of each country in discriminating and attractive language well within the range and comprehension of children of the intermediate and upper grades.We learn of the climate and size of countries visited in comparison with that of our own; of the habits, customs and conditions of the people as seen in their homes and daily occupations; their dress, manner of living, their personal appearance and manners; the scenery and natural features of the country; its commerce and industries, etc. And the descriptions are interspersed with historic and literary allusions that add to the interest. National songs (words and music) and vocabularies of proper and typical names are also given. The scores of handsome pictures help to make the reading–matter more effective.Each book is to one or more different countries and contains from 160 to 240 pages, with colored maps, colored flags, and from 60 to 80 illustrations. Complete alphabetical index.The books have been selected for use by State Library Boards and Reading Circles, adopted as supplementary readers in most of our largest cities, and have received the enthusiastic support of teachers and superintendents everywhere.The following volumes have been issued:Alaska and CanadaChina and JapanCuba and Porto RicoEngland and WalesFrance and SwitzerlandGermanyHawaii and the PhilippinesHolland, Belgium and DenmarkItaly, Spain and PortugalMexico and Central AmericaNorthern Wilds (of America)Norway and SwedenRussia and AustriaScotland and IrelandSouth Africa and Up the East CoastTurkey, The Balkans and GreeceOur Western Wonderland (California)Throughout the Great Southwest (of U.S.)Some Strange Places and Peoples in OurSouthwestern Land (New Mexico andArizona)The books are handsomely bound in uniform cloth editions, size5½ × 7½ inches. Price, per volume, 50 cents.New PublicationsTHE CORN LADY:The Story of a Country Teacher's Work. By (Miss) Jessie Field, Co. Supt. of Schools, Page County, Iowa. "The Corn Lady" is composed of a series of delightful and inspiring letters from "A Country Teacher" to her appreciative country "Daddy" on country–school and country–life improvement. Each letter is a record of practical experience, teeming with understanding of and enthusiasm for an awakening of true, contented, productive rural life. With twenty–five illustrations from photographs, and a supplement containing the author's Farm Arithmetic—twenty–nine pages of rural arithmetic problems. 107 pages. Cloth. Price, 50 cents.DAILY LESSON PLANS IN LANGUAGE:For Second and Third Grades of Elementary Schools. By R. Lena H. Guingrich. The purpose of this book is to provide the teacher with daily lesson plans for primary language work. Its contents cover the eight months. September to April, detailed work being furnished for each day. Illustrated. 74 pages. Paper. Price, 25 cents.SMITH AND RIEGE SONG BOOK, No. 1.By L. Rountree Smith and Clarence L. Riege. Contains over a half hundred sweet, usable songs, original and delightful in both words and music. Especially desirable for the lower grades. 64 large pages. Paper. Price, 20 cents; per dozen, $2.25.PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF PUBLIC SPEAKING.By J. E. Kammeyer, Kansas State College, Manhattan, Kans. Supplies practical and systematic instruction in the essentials of good delivery in reading and speaking, together with over seventy–five selections as illustrative matter for platform discussion and elocutionary effort. 336 pages. Cloth. Price, $1.00.STARVED ROCK:A Chapter of Colonial History. By Eaton G. Osman. The only continuous narrative of the history of the "Rock of St. Louis," which the State of Illinois recently purchased for a public park. With over twenty–five illustrations. 206 pages. Cloth. Price, 50 cents.PLAYS AND COMEDIES FOR LITTLE FOLKS.By Marie Irish. Contains easy dramatizations of six familiar child stories and seventeen original plays and comedies for children, ages five to ten years. 172 pages. Paper. Price, 30 cents.Supplementary Readersfor Lower GradesFigures after the titles denote the grades for which the books are intended. All are well illustrated and durably bound in cloth unless otherwise specified.The Brownie Primer.1–2. Banta and Benson. With over sixty drawings, beautifully printed in four colors. 98 pages$0.35Robinson Crusoe Reader.1–2. Cowles. With suggestions for industrial training and simple dramatization. 115 pages.30Work That Is Play.1–2. Gardner. A dramatic reader based on Æsop's fables. Over fifty superb illustrations. 160 pages.35A Collection of Easy Little Classics.1–2. Twenty–nine favorite stories from Æsop, Grimm, Mother Goose, Longfellow, etc. 172 pages.30Two Little Indians.1–2. Maguire. A story of Indian childhood, with nearly fifty illustrations, five in colors. 100 pages.30The Bunny Books.2–3. Smith. Quaint and entertaining stories of rabbit and other forest life. Four volumes: The Tale of Bunny Cotton–Tail, Bunny Boy and Grizzly Bear, Bunny Bright Eyes, Three Little Cotton–Tails. Each has about 100 pages. Per volume.25The Bear Books.2–3. Smith. Companion volumes to the above: Little Bear, and Seventeen Little Bears. Each has 128 pages. Per volume.30Household Stories for Little Readers.2–3. Klingensmith. Has forty–one familiar stories and classic myths. 176 pages.35A Child's Garden of Verses.2–3. Stevenson. With introduction, biography, and pronouncing and defining vocabulary. Over sixty illustrations, many in colors. 132 pages.40The Pied Piper and Other Stories.2–3. Banta. Ten favorite tales rearranged for young readers. 121 pages.30Nature Myths and Stories.2–3. Cooke. Greek, English, German and Italian myths. Considered one of the classics of child literature. 102 pages.35Little Classic Series.1–8. Little readers for primary grades, at low cost. Each has from 32 to 80 pages and is durably bound in paper covers. Send for our Teachers' Catalogue, giving a complete list of titles. Price each.05and.12A. FLANAGAN COMPANY—CHICAGO
BUNNY and BEAR BOOKS
ByLAURA ROUNTREE SMITHFor Grades 2–3
Few books for little folks have attained the popularity that has been accorded the Bunny and Bear Books. Rabbit and bear life with all its quaintness and humor forms the nucleus around which these entertaining stories are woven. Each book is a continuous story, complete in itself. The many illustrations are in the fullest sense both illustrative and explanatory. Cloth. Illustrated.
THE TALE OF BUNNY COTTON–TAIL
Tells of Bunny's early experiences, his school days, naughty pranks, friendship for Susan Cotton–Tail, troubles with Farmer Jones, etc.
BUNNY BOY AND GRIZZLY BEAR
Relates the doings of Bunny Boy, a waif that came to the home of Bunny and Susan Cotton–Tail, and the stories that Grizzly Bear told them.
BUNNY BRIGHT EYES
The experiences of Bunny Bright Eyes are many and varied. He takes part in a county fair, performs at a circus, etc.
THREE LITTLE COTTON–TAILS
Here we spend days with Mother Cotton–Tail and her three children. Their home life, troubles and pranks, their visit to relatives, etc., both interest and amuse us.
LITTLE BEAR
Little Bear is the youngest of a family of seventeen cubs. Other characters of the forest take active part in the story.
SEVENTEEN LITTLE BEARS
A happy account of the clever doings of a family of seventeen bears; their education, Thanksgiving and Christmas.
GREAT AMERICAN INDUSTRIES
ByF. W. ROCHELEAUIn Four Volumes. For Grades 5–8.
The study of industry and commerce is receiving more and more attention in our schools each year, and the matter contained in these books is most desirable to supplement the regular course. The series, too, is unique in that it presents a history as well as a description of topics discussed. This feature makes it a valuable asset in connection with the study of history, while knowledge of these processes is also often of great advantage, whatever position a person may occupy in life.
The subject–matter has been obtained from direct observation and consultation of the most recent standard authorities. Care has been taken in the selection of topics to include only those which are of general interest on account of their relation to our everyday life, and the development of the nation. Each book is profusely illustrated with reproductions of photographs, drawings, maps, charts, etc., elucidating the text and adding greatly to the value of the work.
MINERALSTreats of Coal, Petroleum, Natural Gas, Iron, Marble, Granite, Slate,Gold, Silver, Copper and Zinc.With sixty–four illustrations. 213 pages. Cloth. Price, 50 cents.PRODUCTS OF THE SOILTakes up Lumber, including valuable matter on forests and forestry,Sugar, Cotton, Indian Corn, Wheat, and Fruits.With fifty–seven illustrations. 194 pages. Cloth. Price, 50 cents.MANUFACTURESTreats of the manufacture of Motors, Glass, Leather, Boots and Shoes,Dressed Meats, Pins, Needles, Pencils, Pens,Paper, Newspapers, and also of Printing.With forty–eight illustrations. 222 pages. Cloth. Price, 50 cents.TRANSPORTATION
Traces the history of each branch of the transportation industry from the early period until the present time, devoting due space to modern methods of transportation and communication. The arrangement is as follows: Primitive Methods of Travel and Transportation, Roads and Carriages, Waterways, Inland Waterways, Railways, Electric Railways, Mountain Railways, Express, Carrying the Mails.
With colored map and sixty–seven illustrations. 263 pages. Cloth.Price, 60 cents.
A LIBRARY OF TRAVEL
The Little Journeys Series
These charming books of reliable, up–to–date information, are an acknowledged superior series of geographical readers. They furnish a unique and vivid portrayal of each country in discriminating and attractive language well within the range and comprehension of children of the intermediate and upper grades.
We learn of the climate and size of countries visited in comparison with that of our own; of the habits, customs and conditions of the people as seen in their homes and daily occupations; their dress, manner of living, their personal appearance and manners; the scenery and natural features of the country; its commerce and industries, etc. And the descriptions are interspersed with historic and literary allusions that add to the interest. National songs (words and music) and vocabularies of proper and typical names are also given. The scores of handsome pictures help to make the reading–matter more effective.
Each book is to one or more different countries and contains from 160 to 240 pages, with colored maps, colored flags, and from 60 to 80 illustrations. Complete alphabetical index.
The books have been selected for use by State Library Boards and Reading Circles, adopted as supplementary readers in most of our largest cities, and have received the enthusiastic support of teachers and superintendents everywhere.
The following volumes have been issued:
Alaska and CanadaChina and JapanCuba and Porto RicoEngland and WalesFrance and SwitzerlandGermanyHawaii and the PhilippinesHolland, Belgium and DenmarkItaly, Spain and PortugalMexico and Central AmericaNorthern Wilds (of America)Norway and SwedenRussia and AustriaScotland and IrelandSouth Africa and Up the East CoastTurkey, The Balkans and GreeceOur Western Wonderland (California)Throughout the Great Southwest (of U.S.)Some Strange Places and Peoples in OurSouthwestern Land (New Mexico andArizona)
The books are handsomely bound in uniform cloth editions, size5½ × 7½ inches. Price, per volume, 50 cents.
New Publications
THE CORN LADY:The Story of a Country Teacher's Work. By (Miss) Jessie Field, Co. Supt. of Schools, Page County, Iowa. "The Corn Lady" is composed of a series of delightful and inspiring letters from "A Country Teacher" to her appreciative country "Daddy" on country–school and country–life improvement. Each letter is a record of practical experience, teeming with understanding of and enthusiasm for an awakening of true, contented, productive rural life. With twenty–five illustrations from photographs, and a supplement containing the author's Farm Arithmetic—twenty–nine pages of rural arithmetic problems. 107 pages. Cloth. Price, 50 cents.
DAILY LESSON PLANS IN LANGUAGE:For Second and Third Grades of Elementary Schools. By R. Lena H. Guingrich. The purpose of this book is to provide the teacher with daily lesson plans for primary language work. Its contents cover the eight months. September to April, detailed work being furnished for each day. Illustrated. 74 pages. Paper. Price, 25 cents.
SMITH AND RIEGE SONG BOOK, No. 1.By L. Rountree Smith and Clarence L. Riege. Contains over a half hundred sweet, usable songs, original and delightful in both words and music. Especially desirable for the lower grades. 64 large pages. Paper. Price, 20 cents; per dozen, $2.25.
PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF PUBLIC SPEAKING.By J. E. Kammeyer, Kansas State College, Manhattan, Kans. Supplies practical and systematic instruction in the essentials of good delivery in reading and speaking, together with over seventy–five selections as illustrative matter for platform discussion and elocutionary effort. 336 pages. Cloth. Price, $1.00.
STARVED ROCK:A Chapter of Colonial History. By Eaton G. Osman. The only continuous narrative of the history of the "Rock of St. Louis," which the State of Illinois recently purchased for a public park. With over twenty–five illustrations. 206 pages. Cloth. Price, 50 cents.
PLAYS AND COMEDIES FOR LITTLE FOLKS.By Marie Irish. Contains easy dramatizations of six familiar child stories and seventeen original plays and comedies for children, ages five to ten years. 172 pages. Paper. Price, 30 cents.
Supplementary Readersfor Lower Grades
Figures after the titles denote the grades for which the books are intended. All are well illustrated and durably bound in cloth unless otherwise specified.
A. FLANAGAN COMPANY—CHICAGO
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE—Plain print and punctuation errors were corrected.—"X CHAPTER" is shown in the original, it has been changed to "CHAPTER X" for consistency.—In the Table of Contents, at "CHAPTER III" the original reads "Fete Day at Naples"; it has been changed to "Feste Day at Naples" as in other places in the book.—Many of the Italian words used in this book are incorrect; they have been left as in the original.—The post-processor of this project created the book cover image using the front cover of the original book. The image is placed in the public domain.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE—Plain print and punctuation errors were corrected.—"X CHAPTER" is shown in the original, it has been changed to "CHAPTER X" for consistency.—In the Table of Contents, at "CHAPTER III" the original reads "Fete Day at Naples"; it has been changed to "Feste Day at Naples" as in other places in the book.—Many of the Italian words used in this book are incorrect; they have been left as in the original.—The post-processor of this project created the book cover image using the front cover of the original book. The image is placed in the public domain.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
—Plain print and punctuation errors were corrected.
—"X CHAPTER" is shown in the original, it has been changed to "CHAPTER X" for consistency.
—In the Table of Contents, at "CHAPTER III" the original reads "Fete Day at Naples"; it has been changed to "Feste Day at Naples" as in other places in the book.
—Many of the Italian words used in this book are incorrect; they have been left as in the original.
—The post-processor of this project created the book cover image using the front cover of the original book. The image is placed in the public domain.