They held a great meeting a king to select,And the kangaroo rose in a dignified way,And said, "I'm the one you should surely elect,For I can out-leap every beast here to-day."Said the eagle, "How high can you climb toward the sky?"Said the nightingale, "Favor us, please, with a song!"Said the hawk, "Let us measure our powers of eye!"Said the lion, "Come wrestle, and prove you are strong!"But the kangaroo said, "It would surely be best,In our choice of a king, to make leaping the test!"
They held a great meeting a king to select,And the kangaroo rose in a dignified way,And said, "I'm the one you should surely elect,For I can out-leap every beast here to-day."Said the eagle, "How high can you climb toward the sky?"Said the nightingale, "Favor us, please, with a song!"Said the hawk, "Let us measure our powers of eye!"Said the lion, "Come wrestle, and prove you are strong!"But the kangaroo said, "It would surely be best,In our choice of a king, to make leaping the test!"
Great was the surprise of scholars, both Hindoo and European, when certain students of old languages claimed that the letters of the Sanskrit, the classical language of India, were originally derived from an alphabet, akin to the Phœnician, used by a great branch of the great race of peoples who are called Shemites, or Semites, after one of the sons of Noah. (The Jews, Arabs, Philistines, Hittites, Phœnicians, and Aramæans are Semites.) Those students believe that the wonderful peninsula of India, which, as far back as traditions go, has been crowded with men of various colors and different tongues, received a Semitic alphabet under two forms by two different roads, and perhaps at periods far apart. They believe that there was a land road and a sea road. They trace one alphabet by land, through Bactria and Cashmere, from one fierce and intelligent nation to another; and they believe that they have traced a second alphabet from Arabia to India by way of the Red Sea. The nation that carried the latter alphabet is supposed to have been the Sabæans, an ancient people of Arabia, who were once as powerful in the Southern seas as the Phœnicians, their kindred, were in the Mediterranean.
Perhaps the word Sanskrit means nothing to you, but it is the name of an important old Oriental language. Sanskrit stands in very much the same relation to many Eastern languages as Latin does to the languages of Italy, Spain, and France. In the last century, William Jones, a Welshman of marked genius, went, like many young Britons, to India to advance his fortunes under the British mercantile government of that land. It was he who first called the attention of Europe to Sanskrit. Since his day much of its poetry and legends has been read, many of its fables and dramatic works have been translated. The word Sanskrit means polished and perfected; and polished and perfected its alphabet certainly is. It is the most complete and most carefully devised alphabet of all those that we know. Sanskrit writing is very solid and handsome in appearance,—a stately script worthy of holding the decrees which mighty monarchs issued from courts magnificent with all the splendors of the Orient. There are not twenty-two letters as in the Phœnician alphabet, nor twenty-six as in ours—there are forty-seven! Instead of beginning withA, the Sanskrit alphabet begins withK. Why? BecauseKis a letter spoken from the throat. Indian grammarians carefully noted in what parts of the throat and mouth the different sounds of their language were made, and, for convenience, they systematized their ample alphabet on this admirable plan. They put their fourteen vowels by themselves as broad, open sounds which were shorter or longer; and, taking the consonants, they placed first on the list those which are spoken from the throat, then those spoken from the palate, then those spoken from the roof of the mouth nearest the brain, then those spoken from the teeth, and finally those spoken from the lips. The list of consonants starts with those uttered low down in the throat and ends with those uttered from the lips; added to these are the soft and flowing consonants called semi-vowels—Y,R,L, andV; and after these come the sibilants, or hissed letters, and the letterH,—forty-seven in all.
The Indian grammarians who devised this complete and scientific system must have had ears almost as sharp as those of the boy in the old story who was said to be able to hear the grass growing. They distinguished between a number of consonants containing a sound ofN,—between "twangs" very slightly differing in sound; and they placed them also in the order of their utterance, beginning with anNuttered from the throat and ending with one spoken with the tongue close to the lips. Our language has two or three differentNsounds, but our alphabet does not distinguish them. The French language also has severalNsounds not indicated by the alphabet, so that one can not hope to speak French intelligibly, still less accurately, without practice with teachers who can render the differentNsounds. The Spanish alphabet tries to indicate a secondNby putting a mark over theN—thus,Ñ. Then, too, we have three sounds for which our alphabet has but one letter,S; while the Sanskrit alphabet has three letters, one for each sound ofS. In the alphabet, as in many other matters, the more enlightened nations of India put to shame the most advanced nations of the Western World.
Did you ever notice how, in our script, or written characters, for the sake of clearness and to keep some letters distinct from others, we have gradually come to write some of them with tall headsabove the upper line, or with long tails below the lower line? And still we are constantly mistaking an l for a badly crossed t, and a g for a j or a y; while some letters that do not go above or below the line, such as m, n, i, w, u, and r, are constantly confounded in rapid writing. We are so used to this confusion that we seldom think of it, and we fail to wonder why some arrangement is not generally agreed to, which would do away with it. By remembering this fact, you will avoid the mistake of thinking because our alphabet, written or printed, is so good, that it could not be better. There is great room for improvement in both departments; in the printed form, the difference between n and u, for instance, is none too great; while in writing hardly one person in ten thousand distinguishes them from each other,—which letter is meant must be guessed by the reader. But the men and women who set up type and correct proofs are much bothered by these defects in our alphabet.
The difficulty of having changes made in existing alphabets is very great, yet this is not necessarily a disadvantage. Much insight into the origin and gradual improvements of sets of letters has been gained by studying the order in which the several letters stand. The order varies greatly in different nations, and varies slightly at different epochs in the same nation. In taking the Phœnician letters, the Greeks dropped some, used others for slightly different sounds, and added a few to express sounds that were important to them or that did not exist in the Phœnician. But this was done very gradually. It never has been easy to induce people to change and improve their alphabets.
But there is another reason why men have refused to change the order of letters by inserting a new and useful letter in the place where it naturally belonged. The Greeks and many other peoples used the letters of the alphabet for numerals. We use our own numbers without stopping to think whence they came. The cumbersome system used by the Romans, and called after them, consisted of strokes (I-II-III-IIII) to indicate the four fingers, and two strokes joined (V) to represent the hand, or five fingers. Ten was a picture of two hands, or two V's (X). Among the Etruscans the half of one, or, as we put it, ½ was >, which we think stood for a forefinger crooked in order to denote the half of one finger. But when the Etruscans and Greeks worked at the higher mathematics or attempted hard sums in arithmetic, they are much more likely to have used letters, in order to avoid the clumsiness of these numerals; in other words, they used what looked like a kind of algebra. We know that they tried to simplify the Roman numerals at Rome by making four and nine with three strokes instead of four, by placing an I before the V and an I before the X (IV and IX).
Our use of the numerals which we call "Arabic" is comparatively recent, and it is believed that the Arabs got these numbers from India several centuries after the Koran was written, or about eight hundred years after Christ. But the fact that the Greeks and others used the letters of their alphabets for numerals, caused the order in which they were written to remain fixed. Ifalphastood for 1,betafor 2,gammafor 3,deltafor 4, and so on up to ten, then a newly coined or newly adopted letter could not be inserted without great confusion; it had to be tacked on to the end of the alphabet. So, when scholars find in inscriptions letters, adopted from another alphabet, which stand out of their natural order, they can make a shrewd guess at the century in which the inscription was made. Suppose an alphabet, which is also used for numerals, loses a letter in the course of time, because there is very little or no use for it; then that letter is still of service for a numeral, and it can not be dropped as a number, though it drops out as a letter. When it is found still employed as a numeral, it reveals some of the history of the alphabet to which it once belonged. These are only a few of many methods of determining the age of a given inscription. Old coins are very useful in settling what the alphabets of various nations were at different epochs.
Our own numerals are extremely convenient for ordinary arithmetic. Algebra, in which letters stand for numbers, is useful for abstract reasoning in mathematics; it treats of the properties of numbers in general. Whether the Indian numerals were originally part of some ancient alphabet, or a series of shortened signs originally somewhat like the Roman numerals that we still use, is not really decided.
There was a curious fashion among certain grammarians and mathematicians of Old India which may be mentioned here. They liked to increase their own importance by making knowledge hard to attain; as it imposed on their pupils, and even more on the outside world. They also wished to exercise the memories of their pupils, and keep them mindful of certain numbers and dates by means of memorizing words. In works on arithmetic and prosody, they deliberately wrote out long words which meant nothing if looked at as parts of a sentence, but stood for so many numbers if the reader had the clew. If such a grammarian wished to write the number twelve by this method, he would write down "moon, eyes"; because there is one moon and two eyes. If he wished to signify the number 1486, he would write "moon, seas, mountains, seasons"; becausein India people believed that in the world there wereonemoon,fourseas, andeightmountain chains, andsixseasons during the year. So ingenious were they in hiding plain things under an artificial system! The priestly rulers of Egypt, also moved by pride and the desire to seem learned, began at a remote period to make the hieroglyphics as hard as possible to understand. For a given word they would always choose as little known and seldom used a character as they could think of. And doubtless this did render them objects of greater reverence in the eyes of pupils and of common folk.
But to return to the numbers that we call Arabic and the Arabs call Indian. The numbers used by the peoples of India who wrote in Sanskrit were very like the figures 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 0, that we use to-day. Even closer resemblances will be found if one goes back to the earliest forms of our numerals; for, during the last thousand years, our numbers have undergone some slight changes. We took them, as you have heard, from the Arabs, who did not employ them much before 800A. D.; and the use of them did not penetrate into Europe by way of Italy and Spain until four centuries later. Together with these numerals, the Arabs learned from India how to do sums by algebra. For algebra, though an Arabic word, is a science of which the Arabs were ignorant before they reached India. How long the Indians of Hindostan had used this system of notation along with their alphabet, we can not yet determine; but it is quite possible that the old grammarians who improved the Sanskrit were enabled to fashion its alphabet into so scientific an order of groups because this separate system of numerals existed at even a more remote period, and had been found handier than the signs of the alphabet. Not using their letters as numerals, they could marshal them on the best system they were able to devise, as we, too, have been able to do with our alphabet ever since we got the Indian numerals from the Arabs.
It may be said that the invention of these numerals and of algebra for the higher mathematics stamps the old Hindoos as one of the most wonderful races of the world.
(To be concluded.)
This Seat Reserved.“THIS SEAT RESERVED.”
One evening as the woods grew dark,The Brownies wandered through a park,And soon a building, quaint and small,Appeared to draw the gaze of all.Said one: "This place contains, no doubt,The tools of workmen hereabout,Who trim the vine, and shape the tree,Or smooth the walks, as chance may be."Another said: "You're quite astray,The workmen's tools are miles away;Within this building may be foundThe fixtures for the tennis ground.A meadow near, both long and wide,For half the year is set aside,And marked with many a square and court,For those who love the royal sport.On afternoons assembled there,The active men and maidens fairKeep up the game until the dayHas faded into evening gray.And then the racket, net, and ballAre stowed away for future call.""In other lands than those we tread,I played the game," another said,"And proved my skill and muscle stout,As 'server' and as 'striker-out.'And all the rules can quote as wellAs those who print them out to sell;The lock that hangs before us thereBears witness to the keeper's care,And tramps or burglars might go by,If such a sign should meet the eye.But we, who laugh at locks or lawDesigned to keep mankind in awe,May praise the keeper's cautious mind,But all the same an entrance find,And for the present evening claimWhate'er is needed for the game."Ere long, the path that lay betweenThe building and the meadow green,Was crowded with the bustling throng,All bearing implements along;Some lugging stakes or racket sets,And others buried up in netsUntil their feet alone they showedBeneath their loose and trailing load.To set the posts and mark the groundThe proper size and shape around,With service-line and line of base,And courts, both left and right, in place,Was work that caused but slight delay;And soon the sport was under way.And then a strange and stirring sceneWas pictured out upon the green.Some watched the game and noted wellWhere this or that one would excel.And shouts and calls that filled the airProved even-handed playing there.With anxious looks some kept the score,And shouted "'vantage!" "game all!" orTo some "love, forty!" "deuce!" to more;But when "deuce set!" the scorer cried,Applause would ring on every side.At times so hot the contest grew,Established laws aside they threw,And in the game where four should stand,At least a dozen took a hand.Some tangled in the netting layAnd some from base-lines strayed away.Some hit the ball when out of placeOr scrambled through unlawful space.But still no game was forced to haltBecause of this or greater fault.And there they sported on the lawnUntil the ruddy streaks of dawnGave warning that the day was near,And Brownies all must disappear.
One evening as the woods grew dark,The Brownies wandered through a park,And soon a building, quaint and small,Appeared to draw the gaze of all.Said one: "This place contains, no doubt,The tools of workmen hereabout,Who trim the vine, and shape the tree,Or smooth the walks, as chance may be."Another said: "You're quite astray,The workmen's tools are miles away;Within this building may be foundThe fixtures for the tennis ground.A meadow near, both long and wide,For half the year is set aside,And marked with many a square and court,For those who love the royal sport.On afternoons assembled there,The active men and maidens fairKeep up the game until the dayHas faded into evening gray.And then the racket, net, and ballAre stowed away for future call."
"In other lands than those we tread,I played the game," another said,"And proved my skill and muscle stout,As 'server' and as 'striker-out.'And all the rules can quote as wellAs those who print them out to sell;The lock that hangs before us thereBears witness to the keeper's care,And tramps or burglars might go by,If such a sign should meet the eye.But we, who laugh at locks or lawDesigned to keep mankind in awe,May praise the keeper's cautious mind,But all the same an entrance find,And for the present evening claimWhate'er is needed for the game."
Ere long, the path that lay betweenThe building and the meadow green,Was crowded with the bustling throng,All bearing implements along;Some lugging stakes or racket sets,And others buried up in netsUntil their feet alone they showedBeneath their loose and trailing load.To set the posts and mark the groundThe proper size and shape around,With service-line and line of base,And courts, both left and right, in place,Was work that caused but slight delay;And soon the sport was under way.And then a strange and stirring sceneWas pictured out upon the green.
Some watched the game and noted wellWhere this or that one would excel.And shouts and calls that filled the airProved even-handed playing there.With anxious looks some kept the score,And shouted "'vantage!" "game all!" orTo some "love, forty!" "deuce!" to more;But when "deuce set!" the scorer cried,Applause would ring on every side.
At times so hot the contest grew,Established laws aside they threw,And in the game where four should stand,At least a dozen took a hand.Some tangled in the netting layAnd some from base-lines strayed away.Some hit the ball when out of placeOr scrambled through unlawful space.But still no game was forced to haltBecause of this or greater fault.And there they sported on the lawnUntil the ruddy streaks of dawnGave warning that the day was near,And Brownies all must disappear.
"Oh! what a fine carriage, and what handsome horses! They are as gay as the coach and horses of Cinderella!" and the bright-faced little girl, with a glory of spring sunshine illuminating her glossy hair, clasped her bare brown hands in delight.
"It dashed by so quickly, I had not time to notice it," replied Grandma Eaton, looking over her glasses down the turf-striped country road after the rapidly departing carriage. "I wonder whose it can be? There! it has stopped. What is that for, Ella, child?"
"I don't know, Grandma, dear; but I think something about the harness has given way. See! the horses are dancing and prancing. The gentleman has jumped from the carriage. He has taken something from his pocket. It looks like a knife. Oh, yes!"
"I had good eyes once, but they have served their day," sighed Grandma Eaton.
"The horses are quiet, now," went on Ella, who had not once taken her observant eyes from a spectacle so unusual for that quiet neighborhood. "Now the strap is mended, I think, and everything is all right," added the child with a little sigh of regret; and as the gentleman drove swiftly on, she left the window and skipped out to the edge of the road, to see the fine horses prance away.
"I guessed rightly, Grandma, dear!" cried Ella as she came running back from the scene of the accident. "It was a broken strap, for here is a piece, almost torn in two, that was cut off. And here is a penny I found right under it; a bright, new penny—as yellow as gold!"
"This is no penny," said the woman, taking the shining coin in her own hand and looking at it closely; "it is an eagle. I know an eagle when I see one, although I have not had one of my own for many a day."
"Ten mills make one cent, ten cents make one dime, ten dimes make one dollar, ten dollars make one eagle! A golden eagle! Oh, how much good it will do us!" exclaimed the little girl as she glanced at her grandmother's thin shawl and at the scant belongings of their humble home.
"We are not to think of that," said Grandma Eaton, speaking so decidedly that a flush overspread her thin, worn face. "The coin belongs to the gentleman who just dropped it; and I do not doubt that a way will be opened for it to be returned to its owner. Those who seek to do right seldom lack opportunity. Cinderella's horses and carriage pass this way too seldom to escape notice, and probably some of our neighbors will be able to tell us to whom they belong."
But all the men in the quiet, out-of-the-way neighborhood had been at town-meeting that afternoon, and none of the women folk, excepting Grandma Eaton and little Ella, had seen the fine sight. They would have remembered it almost as the figment of a dream, had it not been for the bright ten-dollar gold piece laid away in cotton in Grandma Eaton's best china tea-pot, on the top shelf of the parlor cupboard.
On the very next Monday morning after this episode, that same glossy-haired, blue-eyed Ella, with grandma's thin shawl pinned about her shoulders, made one of a bevy of girls who, with arms full of books, slates, and lunch-baskets, were drawing near a plain little brown school-house, standing in the shade of a tall, plumy pine-tree on a sandy hillside that was supposed to be exactly in the center of the Pine Meadow school-district.
"Oh, there's a fire in the school-house!" cried Lizzie Barber; "and I'm glad, for my fingers are cold. I was in such a hurry I forgot my mittens."
"We don't often find a fire made on the first day of school," said Abby Wood, "because the committee-man has to go for the teacher."
"He must have kindled it before he started away," said Ella, "because it has been burning some time. I can tell by the thinness of the smoke."
"That is just like you, Ella Eaton," put in Angelina Brown. "You're always pretending to know things by what you see that no one else would ever think about. Can't you be obliging enough to look through the walls and tell us who is there? Perhaps school has begun."
"I have no way of telling that," laughed Ella, good-naturedly; "but, no doubt some of the boys are there to make first choice of the seats."
"The boys must have climbed in at one of the windows," whispered Ella. "Let us serenade them to let them know we are here."
And she began one of their familiar school songs in a clear, ringing voice, her companions at once joining in with the melody.
By this time they had crossed the waste of sand, and were at the school-house door; but, on trying to enter, they were surprised to find the stout hasp and padlock as secure as it had been through all the long vacation.
Immediately heavy footsteps were heard hurriedly crossing the school-room, one of the small windows was thrown up with a bang, and a stout, rough-looking, tangled-haired, shabby fellow scrambled out in great haste. He cast his eyes sharply about, made a rush at the group of affrighted little girls huddled together upon the broad door-stone, grabbed Ella's lunch-basket with one hand, and Angelina's dinner-pail with the other, cleared the low rail fence near by at a running jump, and was lost to sight in the woodland at the end of the field.
As the ruffianly tramp ran in one direction, the little girls, dropping all their wraps and traps, and seizing hold of hands, ran almost as fast in the other.
How far they might have gone, had they not been turned about by meeting the committee-man and the pretty young lady teacher, it would be hard to say.
The girls were sure a grim, weather-beaten tramp would be found under every desk, and two or three in the wood closet, and they could not be persuaded to enter the school until a thorough search had been made.
It was not so bad as that; but what they did find was a broken window, a fragment of bread, the teacher's chair split into kindlings and nearly burned, and a large bundle of expensive silks and laces.
The intruder had apparently either fallen asleep by the fire and overslept himself, or, not supposing that school was to begin so early in the season, had intended to make the secluded building his hiding-place for the day.
"There was a burglary committed at Willinotic night before last," said Mr. Stiles, the committee-man, "and I fancy these are a part of the spoils. A large reward is offered for the detection and identification of the robbers; so, girls, it will be to your advantage to remember how that fellow looked."
"I shall never forget him," said Lizzie; "he was the tallest man I ever saw."
Abby was sure he was short. Angelina fancied he was lame; and Ella remembered he had a bent nose. They all agreed that he was fierce and horrid, and were equally sure they should know him if they should ever see him again.
The Gold Piece Was Laid Away in Grandma Eaton's Best China Tea-pot.“THE GOLD PIECE WAS LAID AWAY IN GRANDMA EATON’S BEST CHINA TEA-POT.”
The affair made a great local excitement; and when the goods were identified as belonging to the great Willinotic dry goods firm of Clark & Rogers, the girls who had enjoyed such an experience with a real burglar were the envy of all the boys in the community.
But time sped on, the nine-days' excitement had become but a memory in the dull routine of school duties, and June had arrived with its roses, when one day word came from Clark & Rogers, asking Mr. Stiles, the committee-man, to bring the littlegirls who had encountered the burglar, to Willinotic, to see if they could pick him out of a number of men who had been arrested while undermining a railway culvert some days before: "There is a tall one, and a short one, a lame one, and one with a bent nose," the letter said; "so it seems that there is a great deal of material upon which the little women may exercise their memories."
"I am so glad my mother sent to New York for my gypsy hat," said Angelina. "My mother finished my blue dress last night," said Lizzie; and while Abby was telling what she expected to wear, Ella ran on ahead, fearing that she might be questioned upon the same subject, for she knew very well that nothing new, pretty, or fresh would fall to her lot. A thought of the gold eagle did cross her mind; but she bravely put it away from her.
And neither could the dear old grandmother help thinking of the gold piece when she heard that Ella had been summoned to Willinotic; but she, too, resolutely conquered the temptation, saying to herself:
"My grandchild shows her good breeding in her gentle manners and speech, and they are better than fine clothes."
The day at Willinotic was a unique experience for the bevy of little country girls. They enjoyed the hour's ride on the railway and the fine sights in the handsome streets of the large town; but the grand, white-marble court-house, where they were taken, filled most of them with a vague alarm. The sultry summer air drew cool and fresh through the long corridors, and they almost shivered as they were given seats in a lofty room, from which the glaring sun was studiously excluded. Through the half-open doorway they caught glimpses of the grave, gold-spectacled judge at his high desk; the black-coated lawyers seated at their long table in front; the witness-stand with its railing; and a pale-faced prisoner sitting beside an officer.
"There is going to be a thunder-shower," said Angelina, "and I know I shall be frightened to death."
"Let's all take hold of hands," said Abby Wood. "I never felt so lonesome in all my life. I'm going back to the depot for fear we shall be left."
"I'll go with you," said Lizzie. "I don't remember anything about the old tramp, only that he was short—and I wish I hadn't come."
"Why, Lizzie Barber," cried Angelina, "you have always said he was the tallest man you ever saw! How Mr. Stiles will laugh!"
"Well, I shan't stay to be laughed at!" half sobbed Lizzie. "Come, Ella."
"We must not leave this room, where Mr. Stiles told us to stay until he came for us," said Ella, so resolutely that her companions sat down again, although Abby whispered to Angelina:
"The idea of our minding a little girl like Ella, just as if she were the school-teacher herself!"
Happily, Mr. Stiles appeared in time to prevent another outbreak, saying:
"Come, Angelina. You may as well go in first."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Angelina. "I wish Mother had come!" And she was led away into the great court-room.
One by one Mr. Stiles came for the girls, until Ella was left alone. She curled herself up like a kitten in one of the large arm-chairs, and silently took in her unaccustomed surroundings with keen enjoyment.
"Come, Ella," said Mr. Stiles kindly. And she followed him slowly into the court-room, hearing some one whisper lightly as she passed:
"So there is another one. I wonder if her testimony will carry as much weight as that of her mates. It was foolish to expect such children, and girls too, to identify any one."
As Ella cast a slow, thoughtful look about the room, her blue eyes suddenly dilated, and, leaving Mr. Stiles's side, she walked straight up to one of the lawyers, who regarded her curiously, when, dropping a quaint little courtesy that her grandmother had taught her, she said modestly:
"Excuse me, sir,—perhaps I ought not to tell you here, but perhaps I may not see you again,—and I found your gold eagle."
"What did you say?" asked the gentleman kindly. "How do you happen to know me, little girl? And what was that about a gold eagle?"
"I do not know you, sir; but Grandma says one may speak to a stranger on business. I saw you that day—Freeman's meeting-day, it was, you know—when you drove through North Damesfield, and a strap in your harness broke. When you took out your knife to mend it, you dropped a gold eagle, and I picked it up. Grandma has it at home in her china tea-pot, and will be ever so glad I saw you, for ten dollars is a great deal of money to have in the house—when it is not your own."
It was a funny little episode to happen in the crowded court-room, and the lawyers all turned to listen; and the grave judge, from his high seat, looked kindly down upon the little girl, while a smiled tugged at the corners of his mouth and hinted of granddaughters at home.
"How do you know it was I who lost the money?" asked Mr. Gorden, with twinkling eyes.
"Why, I saw you, sir, and I could not help knowing you again."
"How was it, Mr. Gorden?" asked the judge, as if this diversion was not altogether unwelcome; and the lawyer replied:
"I did drive through North Damesfield, on Freeman's meeting-day, by the old turnpike, to avoid the mud by the river road. The harness did break, and I feared for a time that I might have trouble with my horses; I had purchased them only two days before. I did make a new hole in the strap with my pocket-knife, and I surely on that day lost a ten-dollar gold piece. I thought, however, that it was stolen from me at the miserable little tavern where I had spent the previous night. I am so glad to find myself mistaken, that Igladly give the gold piece to my little friend here, who, it seems to me, has a better claim to it than I have."
"Oh, sir, I thank you, but, indeed, I do not think Grandma would let me take it, because, really, it doesn't belong to me at all."
"It does, if I choose to give it to you, my child," said the gentleman, smoothing her glossy curls. "And now, do you think you will be so sure of the fellow who gave you such a sorry fright, and stole your dinner, as you were of me?"
"Oh, yes, sir! If he is here, I shall know him. I saw him plainly." And, turning about as she was told, she faced the half dozen prisoners, with a little shiver. "That is the one," she said at once; "the one with his hands in his pockets. His nose is bent just a little to one side, you see. And, oh! sir! if you look at the thumb on his right hand you will see that the end has been cut off; and that the nail grows sharp and long, like a claw. I saw it when he snatched my lunch-basket, but I have never thought of it since. I seemed to see it again when I saw his face."
"That is an interesting little point, showing the association of ideas," said one of the lawyers in a low tone to another; and the prisoner whom the little girl designated was ordered to take his hands from his pockets. He refused doggedly at first; but, seeing that it was of no use for him to resist, he withdrew them, and, holding up his peculiar thumb in a defiant way, he muttered:
"The girl saw my thumb when she came in, and spoke about it because she wants to get the reward."
"The prisoner kept his hands in his pockets ever since he entered the court-room," said the sheriff.
"Not continually, I think," said one of the lawyers; and Mr. Gorden suggested:
"It may be well to put this child's memory to another test." And, turning to Ella, he asked kindly, "Are you often in Willinotic, little girl?"
"I was never here until to-day, sir," she answered.
"Do you think you would know my horses if you saw them on the street?" inquired Mr. Gorden.
"Yes, sir," said Ella, "I am sure I should know them anywhere."
"She will have her match this time, I fancy," said one of the lawyers to another in a low voice; "of course she is not prepared for the variety of teams to be seen on our main street."
A great deal of curiosity was felt in regard to this third test of the womanly little girl's memory, and the court took a recess, lawyers, judge, Mr. Stiles, and all the school-girls going to the deep balcony of the court-house.
Ella seemed simply unconscious that the eyes of the whole party centered upon her as she leaned against the railing, holding her hat in her hand, while the wind lifted her curls and brought the color back to her pale cheeks.
There were, indeed, many fine carriages and horses. Ella was closely observant, but not confused. She did not appear to notice one team more than another until ten minutes had passed; then the color went out of her cheeks again, her eyes opened wide, and she exclaimed:
"There they come, sir! up the street—the gray with a sorrel mate. It is a different carriage, but the very same lap robe. You had it spread over a white fur one when I saw you."
"Very true," said Mr. Gorden. "Your three tests of memory are unimpeachable; and now, will you be so kind as to tell us how it happens that your memory is so much more retentive than that of most children of your age?"
"I suppose, sir," said Ella, as the others gathered about to listen, "it is because my father used to teach me that it was rude and useless to stare long at any person or anything. He said I must train my eye to see everything at a glance, and we used to amuse ourselves by looking at pictures in that way. It is just like a game; and one can play at it all alone, too. I have kept it up because I live alone with my grandma out on the old turnpike, and I seldom have any one to play with. I only had one good look at you, sir, but I saw your black eyes, your gray mustache, and the look in your face that can be stern or can be very kind."
At this, Squire Gorden's brother lawyers all laughed in concert and the grave judge smiled, for they all were familiar with the look which the little girl had so artlessly described.
The thief confessed his crime later.
"I noticed how that blue-eyed girl looked at me that morning at the school-house," he said, "and I felt, somehow, as though she would know me if she ever saw me again."
The burglar was sent to prison; and Ella not only was given the gold eagle she had found, but she also received the reward for identifying the thief. And she won so many warm and helpful friends that day at the court-house that her grandmother used often to say: "That was really a Cinderella coach and pair to you, dear. And you are a matter-of-fact Cinderella yourself, though you have no fairy godmother, such as she had."
"But I have you, dear Grandma," said Ella, "and you're worth a dozen fairy godmothers. So I'm luckier than the other Cinderella, after all!"
She Twirled upon her Tip-Toes light,Tossed back her Tangled Tresses bright,And cried "I'm Truly Tired of play,I'll have a Tea-party To-day!"She set The Table 'neath a Tree,With Tempting Tarts,and Toast,and Tea.Ten Tiny cups upon The Tray,Ten platesand spoons in Trim array,Ten Twinkling TapersThin and Tall,And Then The feast was ready all.The Thrushes Trilled and Twittered sweet,The Turf was Tender 'neath her feet.Her Tidy cap with lace was rimmedHer Tasteful gown was Tucked and Trimmed"Now here am I and here's The Treat!" she cried "But who is There To eat?I'm very Thirsty for my Tea, I Think I'll be The company."And sipping now and Tasting ThenShe ate and drank for all The Ten!
She Twirled upon her Tip-Toes light,Tossed back her Tangled Tresses bright,And cried "I'm Truly Tired of play,I'll have a Tea-party To-day!"She set The Table 'neath a Tree,With Tempting Tarts,and Toast,and Tea.Ten Tiny cups upon The Tray,Ten platesand spoons in Trim array,Ten Twinkling TapersThin and Tall,And Then The feast was ready all.The Thrushes Trilled and Twittered sweet,The Turf was Tender 'neath her feet.Her Tidy cap with lace was rimmedHer Tasteful gown was Tucked and Trimmed"Now here am I and here's The Treat!" she cried "But who is There To eat?I'm very Thirsty for my Tea, I Think I'll be The company."
And sipping now and Tasting ThenShe ate and drank for all The Ten!
There are few persons who have not admired marquetry, or the sort of mosaic work made by sawing out pieces of wood of different colors and fitting them into one another. This is effected in three ways. The first is by simply sawing out squares, diamonds, crosses, or any pattern of which all the pieces are alike and can be fitted together. The designing of these is a very interesting exercise. I may briefly say that it can be done by drawing cross lines at equal distances, like those of a chess-board, and tracing similarly-sized pieces from them. The Arabs and Moors excelled in such designing and work.
Design for a Pattern in One Color.DESIGN FOR A PATTERN IN ONE COLOR.
The second kind of marquetry is made with a fret, or "jig," or scroll saw. One of these may be had for a few cents, but a good equipment for the work costs from fifty cents up to any price, according to the scale on which the pupil wishes to work. Any hardware dealer will procure a complete outfit, and there are now so many books of instruction and of patterns for the work, that it is hardly necessary for me to explain it more in detail. In a few words, it consists in taking two pieces of very thin board, of different colors, fastening the two together, drawing a pattern on a piece of paper, gumming it on to one surface, and then sawing the two out. Of course, if it be neatly done, one piece will fit into the other. Thus, if one be black and the other white, the black pattern will fit into the white ground, and the white pattern into the black ground.
The third kind of marquetry is made with veneers, which are sheets of wood almost as thin as paper, and as the process of making it is rather difficult for amateurs, I shall not describe it here.
But there is a fourth, and far easier process, called Venetian Marquetry, which has never, to my knowledge, been fully noticed in print; though it is so obvious a method that I dare say many have used it. Much of the old marquetry was made of white wood stained with dyes. Venetian Marquetry is a very perfect imitation of this, not to be distinguished from the sawed-out patterns. It is made as follows:
Take a thin panel, or board, of holly or any other nice white or light-yellow wood. Pine may be used when no other can be had, though it is, from its softness, the worst for the purpose. Draw a pattern on it. This may be done by tracing. Then with a knife-wheel, mark out in the wood the entire outline of your pattern, cutting in to the depth of at least one tenth of an inch. (A knife-wheel is like a pattern-wheel; that is, it is a little disk, or flat wheel, not larger than a three-cent piece, set in a handle; but the edge of a pattern-wheel is like the rowel of a spur, in sharp points, while that of the knife-wheel, or cutting-wheel, is thin and sharp. It must be very strongly made.)
Use the utmost care in marking out your pattern with the wheel. If there are corners too sharp to turn with the wheel, mark them with a thin penknife. In fact, if you can not obtain a wheel, the whole may be done with a penknife. The wheel simply makes a more even, continuous line, and is more convenient to use. When the partial division of the pieces is effected, paint the pattern with the dyes made for wood. Care should be taken to apply these very thinly indeed, in small quantity, to let them dry thoroughly, and then to renew them.
An Easy Pattern.AN EASY PATTERN.
Warping may be prevented by carefully dampeningthe back of the panel, by screwing down the wood, or by keeping it pressed down by a weight while drying. Perhaps the best way in most cases is to fasten strips across the back.
Great pains must be taken to prevent the dyes from spreading beyond the outlines. The only difference between this Venetian work and sawed-out inlaying lies in this, that the pieces of wood are not quite cut through. That is all. If they were, it would be real inlaid marquetry. As dyes were very extensively used to color much of the finest old work, it will be admitted that the chief difference between this method and that in which all the pieces are fret-sawn, is that this is by far the easier. Fret-sawing of two or three veneers is, for a young amateur, much more difficult than marking out and dyeing a pattern. And it is a very important consideration that this beautiful art or method may be employed where a variety of woods and tools are not available. There are few places where two or three cheap dyes for wood, a piece of white wood, and a thin penknife can not be obtained. Thus, even common ink thinned with water will make a slate-colored dye, while several coats will stain wood jet-black. (When the dyed surface is very dry, rub it off carefully with soft paper, renew the ink, let it dry, rub off the surface again, and then oil it.) Umber in coffee will make a brown dye. But best of all are the dyes sold for the purpose.
The channels, or fine lines cut by the knife, may be carefully closed with any kind of filler. A good one may be made by very thoroughly mixing fine varnish and flour, or by rubbing up size with umber or any other coloring matter.
A great defect in much of the old marquetry was the same fault that the Englishman found in the autumnal landscape in America, when he said, "It is very pretty, to be sure, but don't you think it's a trifle gaudy?" The old artists in wood used as many colors as they could get together; and amateurs and beginners greatly incline to this. But an artist in decorative work can produce the best and most vigorous effects with few colors and large easy patterns.