THE PRINCE GAZED EAGERLY DOWN INTO THE LARGEST ROOM HE HAD EVER BEHELD. [PAGE 40.]View larger image
The sound which greeted his ears is one which we have heard many times, but Prince Dolor, who had lived all his days in the dead silence of Hopeless Tower, heard it for the first time. And oh! If you had seen his face.
He listened, and listened, and looked and looked. The motion of the animals delighted him; cows walking, horses galloping, little lambs and calves running races across the meadows, were a great treat for him to watch.
"Godmother," he said, having now begun to believe that, whether he saw her or not, she could hear him—"Godmother, I should like better to see a creature like myself. Couldn't you show me just one little boy?"
Suddenly, a shrill whistle startled him, even through his silver ears, and looking downwards, he saw start up from behind a bush on a common, something—
Neither a sheep, nor a horse, nor a cow—nothing upon four legs. This creature had only two; but they were long, straight and strong. And it had a lithe active body, and a curly head of black hair. It was a boy about the Prince's own age—but, oh! so different. His face was almost as red as his hands, and his shaggy hair was matted like the backs of the sheep he was tending. But he was a rather nice-looking lad; and seemed so bright and healthy and "jolly," that the little Prince watched him with great admiration.
"Might he come and play with me? I would drop down to the ground to him, or fetch him up to me."
But the cloak, usually so obedient, disobeyed him now. There was evidently some things which his godmother could or would not give. The cloak hung high in air, never attempting to descend. The shepherd lad took it for a large bird, and shading his eyes, looked up at it, then turned round and stretched himself, for he had been half asleep, and his dog had been guarding the sheep.
The boy called to the dog and they started off together for a race across the fields. Prince Dolor watched them with great excitement, for a while, then the sweet, pale face grew a trifle paler, the lips began to quiver and the eyes to fill.
"How nice it must be to run like that!" he said softly, thinking that never—no, never in this world—would he be able to do the same.
"I think I had rather not look at him again," said the poor little Prince, drawing himself back into the centre of his cloak, and resuming his favorite posture, sitting like a Turk, with his arms wrapped around his feeble useless legs.
"You're no good to me," he said, patting them mournfully. "You never will be any good to me. I wonder why I have you at all; I wonder why I was born at all, since I was not to grow up like other little boys."
Prince Dolor sat a good while thus, and seemed to grow years older in a few minutes.
Then he fancied the cloak began to rock gently to and fro, with a soothing kind of motion, as if he were in somebody's arms; somebody who did not speak, but loved and comforted him without need of words.
He had placed himself so he could see nothing but the sky, and had taken off his silver ears, as well as his gold spectacles—what was the use of either when he had no legs to walk or run?—Up from below there rose a delicious sound.
You have heard it hundreds of times, my children, and so have I. When I was a child I thought there was nothing so sweet; and I think so still. It was just the song of a lark, mounting higher and higher, until it came so close that Prince Dolor could distinguish its quivering wings and tiny body, almost too tiny to contain such a gush of music.
"Oh, you beautiful, beautiful bird!" cried he; "Ishould dearly like to take you in and cuddle you. That is, if I might—if I dared."
He was so absorbed that he forget all regret and pain, forgot everything in the world except the little lark, and he was just wondering if it would soar out of sight, when it suddenly closed its wings, as larks do when they mean to drop to the ground. But, instead of dropping to the ground, it dropped right into the little boy's breast.
When he came in sight of Hopeless Tower, a painful thought struck him.
"My pretty bird, what am I to do with you? If I take you into my room and shut you up there, you will surely die for I heard my nurse once say that the nicest thing she ever ate in her life was lark pie!"
The little boy shivered all over at the thought, and in another minute he had made up his mind.
"No, my bird, nothing so dreadful shall happen to you if I can help it; I would rather do without you altogether. Fly away, my darling! Good-bye my merry, merry bird."
Opening his two caressing hands, in which, as for protection, he had folded it, he let the lark go. It lingered a minute, perched on the rim of the cloak, and looked at him with eyes of almost human tenderness; then away it flew.
But, sometime after, when Prince Dolor had eaten his supper, and gone to bed, suddenly he heard outside the window a little faint carol—faint but cheerful—even though it was the middle of the night.
The dear little lark, it had not flown away after all, but had remained about the tower and he listened to its singing and went to sleep very happy.
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After this journey which had given the Prince so much pain, his desire to see the world had somehow faded away. He contented himself with reading his books, and looking out of the tower windows, and listening to his beloved little lark, which had come home with him that day, and had never left him again.
True, it kept out of the way; but though his nurse sometimes faintly heard it, and said, "What is that horrid noise outside?" she never got the faintest chance to make the lark into a pie.
All during the winter the little bird cheered and amused him. He scarcely needed anything more—not even his traveling cloak, which lay bundled unnoticed in a corner, tied up in its many knots.
Prince Dolor was now a big boy. Not tall—alas! he never could be that, with his poor little shrunken legs. But he was stout and strong, with great sturdy shoulders, and muscular arms, upon which he could swing himself about almost as well as a monkey. His face, too, was very handsome; thinner, firmer, more manly; but still the sweet face of his childhood—his mother's own face.
The boy was not a stupid boy either. He could learn almost anything he chose—and he did choose, which was more than half the battle. He never gave up his lessons until he had learned them all—never thought it a punishment that he had to work at them, and that they cost him a deal of trouble sometimes.
"But," thought he, "men work, and it must be so grand to be a man;—a prince too; and I fancy princes work harder than anybody—except kings. The princesI read about generally turn into kings. I wonder"—the boy was always wondering—"Nurse"—and one day he startled her with a sudden question—"tell me—shall I ever be a king?"
The woman stood, perplexed beyond expression. So long a time had passed by since her crime—if it were a crime—and her sentence, that she now seldom thought of either. She had even grown used to her punishment. And the little prince whom she at first hated, she had learned to love—at least, enough to feel sorry for him.
The Prince noticed that her feeling toward him was changing and did not shrink from her.
"Nurse—dear nurse," said he, one day, "I don't mean to vex you, but tell me—what is a king? Shall I ever be one?"
Then the idea came to her—what harm would it be, even if he did know his own history? Perhaps he ought to know it—for there had been many changes in Nomansland, as in most other countries. Something might happen—who could tell? Possibly a crown would yet be set upon those pretty, fair curls—which she began to think prettier than ever when she saw the imaginary crown upon them.
She sat down, considering whether her oath, "never to say a word to Prince Dolor about himself," would be broken, if she were to take a pencil and write, what was to be told. It was a miserable deception. But then, she was an unhappy woman, more to be pitied than scorned.
After long doubt, she put her finger to her lips, and taking the Prince's slate—with a sponge tied to it, ready to rub out the writing in a minute—she wrote:
"You are a king."
Prince Dolor started. His face grew pale and then flushed all over; his eyes glistened; he held himself erect. Lame as he was, anybody could see he was born to be a king.
"Hush!" said the nurse, as he was beginning to speak. And then, terribly frightened all the while, she wrote down in a few sentences, his history. How his parents had died, how his uncle had stolen the throne, and sent him to end his days in this lonely tower.
"I, too," added she, bursting into tears. "Unless, indeed, you could get out into the world, and fight for your rights like a man. And fight for me also, My Prince, that I may not die in this desolate place."
"Poor old nurse," said the boy tenderly. For somehow, boy as he was, when he heard he was born to be a king, he felt like a man—like a king—who could afford to be tender because he was strong.
He scarcely slept that night, and barely listened to the singing of the lark. Things more important were in his mind.
"Suppose," thought he, "I were to go into the world, no matter how it hurts me. The people might only laugh at me, but still I might show them I could do something. At any rate, I might go and see if there was anything for me to do. Godmother, help me!"
It was so long since he had asked for help, that he was hardly surprised when he got no answer. He sprang out of bed, dressed himself, and leaped to the corner where lay his traveling-cloak and unrolled it.
Then he jumped into the middle of it, said his charm, and was out through the skylight immediately.
"Good-bye, pretty lark!" he shouted, as he passed it on the wing. "You have been my pleasure, now I must go and work. Sing to old nurse until I come back again. Good-bye!"
But as the cloak hung motionless in air, he suddenly remembered that he had not made up his mind where to go—indeed, he did not know, and there was nobody to tell him.
"Godmother," he cried, "you know what I want.Tell me where I ought to go; show me whatever I ought to see—never mind what I like."
This journey was not for pleasure as before. He was not a baby now, to do nothing but play. Men work, this much Prince Dolor knew. As the cloak started off, over freezing mountain tops, and desolate forests, smiling plains and great lakes, he was often rather frightened. But he crouched down, and wrapping himself up in his bearskin waited for what was to happen.
After some time he heard a murmur in the distance, and stretching his chin over the edge of the cloak, Prince Dolor saw—far, far below him, yet with his gold spectacles and silver ears on he could distinctly hear and see—a great city!
Suppose you were to see a large city from the upper air; where, with your ears and eyes open, you could take in everything at once. What would it look like? How would you feel about it? I hardly know myself. Do you?
Prince Dolor was as bewildered as a blind person who is suddenly made to see.
He gazed down on the city below him, and then put his hand over his eyes.
"I can't bear to look at it, it is so beautiful—so dreadful. And I don't understand it—not one bit. I wish I had some one to tell me about it."
"Do you? Then pray speak to me."
The voice that squeaked out this reply came from a great black and white bird that flew into the cloak and began walking round and round on the edge of it with a dignified stride.
"I haven't the honor of your acquaintance," said the boy politely.
"My name is Mag and I shall be happy to tell you everything you want to know. My family is very old; we have builded in this palace for many years. I am well acquainted with the King, the Queen, and the littleprinces and princesses—also the maids of honor, and all the inhabitants of the city. I talk a great deal, but I always talk sense, and I dare say I shall be very useful to a poor, little, ignorant boy like you."
"I am a prince," said the other gently.
"All right. And I am a magpie."
She settled herself at his elbow and began to chatter away, pointing out with one skinny claw every object of interest, evidently believing, as no doubt all its inhabitants did, that there was no city in the world like the great capital of Nomansland.
Mag said that it was the finest city in the world but there were a few things in it that surprised Prince Dolor. One half the people seemed so happy and contented and the other half were so poor and miserable. "I would try to make it a little more equal if I were king," he said.
"But you're not the king," returned the magpie loftily. "Shall I show you the royal palace?"
It was a magnificent palace covering many acres of ground. It had terraces and gardens; battlements and towers. But since the Queen died the windows through which she looked at the Beautiful Mountains, had been closed and boarded up. The room was so little that no one cared to use it.
"I should like to see the King," said Prince Dolor, and as he spoke Mag flew down to the palace roof, where the cloak rested, settling down between the great stocks of chimneys as comfortably as if on the ground. Mag pecked at the tiles with her beak and immediately a little hole opened, a sort of door, through which could be seen distinctly the chamber below.
"Now pop down on your knees and take a peep at his Majesty."
HE LIFTED UP HIS THIN, SLENDER HAND, AND THERE CAME A SILENCE OVER THE VAST CROWD IMMEDIATELY. [PAGE 40.]View larger image
The Prince gazed eagerly down, into a large room, the largest room he had ever beheld, with furniture and hangings grander than anything he could haveever imagined. A sunbeam struck across the carpet and it looked like a bed of flowers.
"Where is the King?" asked the puzzled boy.
"There," said Mag, pointing with one wrinkled claw to a magnificent bed, large enough to contain six people. In the centre of it quite straight and still with its head on the lace pillow lay a small figure, something like waxwork, fast asleep. There were a number of sparkling rings on the tiny yellow hands; the eyes were shut, and the nose looked sharp and thin, and the long grey beard hid the mouth, and lay over the breast. Two little flies buzzing about the curtains of the bed was the only audible sound.
"Is that the King?" whispered Prince Dolor.
"Yes," replied the bird.
He had been angry ever since he learned how his uncle had taken the crown and had felt as if, king as he was, he should like to strike him, this great, strong wicked man.
Why, you might as well have struck a baby! How helpless he lay! with his eyes shut, and his idle hands folded; they had no more work to do, bad or good.
"What is the matter with him?" asked the Prince.
"He is dead," said the magpie with a croak.
No, there was not the least use in being angry with him now. On the contrary, the Prince felt almost sorry for him.
"What shall we do now?" asked the magpie. "There's nothing much more to be done with his Majesty, except a funeral. Suppose we float up again at a safe distance and see it all. It will be such fun. There will be a great row in the city and I wonder who we shall have in his place?"
"What will be fun?"
"A Revolution."
As soon as the Cathedral bell began to toll, and the minute guns to fire, announcing to the Kingdom thatit was without a king, the people gathered in crowds. The murmur now and then rose into a shout, and the shout into a roar. When Prince Dolor, quietly floating in the upper air, caught the sound of their different and opposite cries, it seemed to him as if the whole city had gone mad together.
"Long live the King!" "The King is dead—down with the King!" "Down with the crown and the King too!" "Hurrah for the Republic!" "Hurrah for no government at all."
Such were the shouts which came up to him and then began, oh! what a scene! The country was in a revolution. Soldiers were shooting down people by hundreds in the streets, scaffolds were being erected, heads dropping off, houses burned, and women and children murdered.
Prince Dolor saw it all. Things happened so fast after one another that he nearly lost his senses.
"Oh, let me go home," he cried at last, stopping his ears and shutting his eyes, "only let me go home!" for even his lonely tower and its dreariness and silence, was absolute paradise after this.
Prince Dolor fell into a kind of swoon and when he awoke he found himself in his own room.
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Next morning when Prince Dolor awoke he perceived that his room was empty.
Very uncomfortable he felt, of course; and just a little frightened. Especially when he began to call again and again, but nobody answered.
"Nurse—dear nurse—please come back!" he called out. "Come back, and I will be the best boy in all the land."
And when she did not come back, and nothing but silence answered his lamentable call, he very nearly began to cry.
"This won't do," he said at last, dashing the tears from his eyes. "It's just like a baby, and I'm a big boy—shall be a man some day. What has happened, I wonder? I'll go and see."
He sprang out of bed and crawled from room to room on his knees.
"What in the world am I to do?" thought he, and sat down in the middle of the floor, half inclined to believe that it would be better to give up entirely, lay himself down and die.
This feeling, however, did not last long. He jumped up and looked out of the window. No help there. At first he only saw the broad bleak sunshiny plain. But, by-and-by, in the mud around the base of the tower he saw clearly the marks of horses' feet, and just in the spot where the deaf mute always tied his great black charger, there lay the remains of a bundle of hay.
"Yes, that's it. He has come and gone, taking nurse with him. Poor nurse! how glad she must have been to go!"
That was Prince Dolor's first thought. His second was one of indignation at her cruelty.
He decided that it would be easier to die here alone than out in the world, among the terrible doings which he had just beheld.
The deaf mute had come—contrived somehow to make the nurse understand that the king was dead, and that she need have no fear in going back to the capital.
"I hope she'll enjoy it," said the Prince.
And then a kind of remorse smote him for feeling so bitterly towards her, after all the years she had taken care of him—grudgingly, perhaps, still, she had taken care of him.
For the second time he tried to dress himself, and then to do everything he could for himself—even to sweeping the hearth and putting on more coals.
He then thought of his godmother. Not of calling her or asking her to help him—she had evidently left him to help himself, and he was determined to try his best to do it, being a very proud and independent boy—but he remembered her tenderly.
After his first despair, he was comfortable and happy in his solitude, but when it was time to go to bed, he was very lonely, even his little lark was silent and as for his traveling cloak, either he never thought about it, or else it had been spirited away—for he made no use of it, nor attempted to do so.
On the sixth day, Prince Dolor had a strange contented look in his face. Get out of the tower he could not; the ladder the deaf mute used was always carried away again and his food was nearly gone. So he made up his mind to die. Not that he wished to die; on the contrary, there was a great deal that he wished to live to do. Dying did not seem so very dreadful; not even to lie quietly like his uncle, whom he had entirely forgiven now.
"Suppose I had grown to be a man, and had hadwork to do, and people to care for, and was so useful and busy that they liked me, and perhaps even forgot that I was lame. Then, it would have been nice to have lived, I think," and tears came into the little fellow's eyes. Then he heard a trumpet, one of the great silver trumpets so admired in Nomansland. Not pleasant music, but very bold and grand.
The poor condemned woman had not been such a wicked woman after all. As soon as she heard of the death of the King, she persuaded the deaf-mute to take her away with him, and they galloped like the wind from city to city, spreading everywhere the news that Prince Dolor's death and burial had been an invention concocted by his wicked uncle—that he was alive and well, and the noblest young Prince that ever was born.
It was a bold stroke, but it succeeded. People jumped at the idea of this Prince, who was the son of their late good King and Queen.
"Hurrah for Prince Dolor! Let him be our king!" rang from end to end of the kingdom. They were determined to have him reign over them. Accordingly no sooner was the late king laid in his grave than they pronounced him a usurper; turned all his family out of the palace, and left it empty for the reception of the new sovereign, whom they went to fetch with great rejoicing.
They hailed him with delight, as prince and king and went down on their knees before him, offering the crown to him.
"Yes," he said, "if you desire it, I will be your king. And I will do my best to make my people happy."
"Oh!" said he, "if before I go, I could only see my dear godmother." He gazed sadly up to the skylight, whence there came pouring a stream of sunrays like a bridge between heaven and earth. Sliding down it, came the little woman in grey.
He held out his arms in eager delight.
"Oh, godmother, you have not forsaken me!"
"Not at all my son. You may not have seen me, but I have seen you many a time."
"How?"
"Oh, never mind. I can turn into anything I please you know."
"A lark, for instance," cried Prince Dolor.
"Or a Magpie," answered she with a capital imitation of Mag's croaky voice.
"You will not leave me now that I am king? Otherwise I had rather not be a king at all," said he.
The little old woman laughed gaily. "Forsake you? That is impossible. But now I must go. Good-bye! Open the window and out I fly."
Prince Dolor tried to hold his godmother fast, but in vain. A knocking was heard at the door, and the little woman vanished.
His godmother helped him out of many difficulties for there was never such a wise old woman.
He was very happy and contented; first, because he took his affliction patiently; second, because being a brave man, he bore it bravely. Therefore other people grew to love him so well, that I think hundreds of his subjects might have been found who were almost ready to die for their poor lame king.
He did a good many things, however, which a little astonished his subjects. First, he pardoned the condemned woman, who had been his nurse and ordered that there should be no such thing as the death punishment in Nomansland.
Then he chose the eldest son of his eldest cousin, a quiet, unobtrusive boy, to be educated as heir to the throne.
In course of time, when the little prince had grown into a tall young man, King Dolor fixed a day when the people should assemble in the great square of the capital to see the young prince installed solemnly in his new duties.
The king lifted up his thin slender hand and there came a silence over the vast crowd immediately as he pronounced the vows which made the young prince king.
My people he said, I am tired; I want to rest; it is time for me to go and I do not think I shall come back any more. He drew a little bundle out of his breast pocket. Then, so suddenly that even those nearest to his Majesty could not tell how, the king was away—floating right up in the air—upon something they knew not what. Whither he went or who went with him it is impossible to say, but I myself believe that his godmother took him on his traveling cloak to the Beautiful Mountains.
Arranged byJOSEPHINE L. ADAMS
This book is prepared for and dedicated to "the girls." It is for their girl friends to write in, being left with many inviting blank spaces for the answer to interesting questions about their favorite people, songs, amusements, plays, books and other things one naturally wants to know about. The sum total of all these queries not only furnishes lots of fun at the time of writing, but also gives a good character study of the writer and a souvenir of one's friends, which every girl will be glad to treasure.
It is said that life is made up of little things. Certainly, as we look back, these trifles often seem of most interest and value to us. And it is in order to preserve some of these stray bits of gold dust that this CHARACTER BOOK has been prepared—at the suggestion of one clever girl.
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Arranged byMINNIE E. SALISBURYIllustrated byHORACE KINNEY CRANMER
This unique volume is an exceedingly attractive and practical gift book in which one may keep a record of social and holiday happenings and incidents of interest to one's self. Under the various headings, such as "Christmas," "New Year's Day," "Parties and Entertainments," etc., descriptions may be written which will assist one to avoid or repeat the details of a similar event in the future. Under the headings, "Special Occasions," "Miscellaneous," "Trips," etc., many happy and interesting events may be recorded, and as time goes on this chronicle of happenings may prove a pleasure and solace, dispelling the shadow of age with the sunshine of youth. Handsomely illustrated throughout and printed in three colors on a superior grade of paper having a good writing surface.
Cloth, size 6½ x 8¾ inches, boxed, $1.25.Paste grain, boxed, $2.50.Velvet ooze, boxed, $2.50.
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CARD CLUBRECORDEvery person who attends card parties wants to refer at some time or another to what happened at or who attended a certain gathering and here is a book specially designed for that purpose. Blank spaces are provided in which to record: The Date, Hostess, Game Played, Scores, Prizes, Winners, Refreshments, Guests, and General Remarks. The book is printed in two colors with handsome border designs, and includes concise card rules of latest revision. Both bindings put in a handsome box.Cloth binding, cover stamped in gold, boxed, $1.00Full leather binding, full gilt edges, boxed, $2.00NOTEthis book makes the very best kind of acard party prizeFor sale at all book stores, or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price, by the publishersBARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
Every person who attends card parties wants to refer at some time or another to what happened at or who attended a certain gathering and here is a book specially designed for that purpose. Blank spaces are provided in which to record: The Date, Hostess, Game Played, Scores, Prizes, Winners, Refreshments, Guests, and General Remarks. The book is printed in two colors with handsome border designs, and includes concise card rules of latest revision. Both bindings put in a handsome box.
Cloth binding, cover stamped in gold, boxed, $1.00Full leather binding, full gilt edges, boxed, $2.00
NOTEthis book makes the very best kind of acard party prize
For sale at all book stores, or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price, by the publishers
BARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
BARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
Everybody should save theirTHEATRE PROGRAMSIN after years many of them become historic and increase wonderfully in value as souvenirs of the great plays and actors you have seen. Nearly every one takes home their theatre program, andis at a loss afterwards what to do with it, or where to put it so it can be found when wanted in the future. Here is a book that solves the problem:PLAYS AND PLAYERSA Theatre-Goer's Recordin which one may keep a record of the plays seen, the date, play, theatre, in whose company, coupon of seats, comment on the play and players, synopsis of scenes, cast of characters, pictures, scenes and clippings pertaining to the play.The paper (India Tint) is of fine quality; the printing is in colors; the binding is cloth with an appropriate cover design in colors; the whole making a very attractive book for gift purposes, or for one's own use, and is put up in a handsome box.8¾ x 6¾ inches, cloth binding (boxed)$1.50Full limp leather, gilt edges (boxed)3.00For sale at all book stores, or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price, by the publishersBARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
IN after years many of them become historic and increase wonderfully in value as souvenirs of the great plays and actors you have seen. Nearly every one takes home their theatre program, andis at a loss afterwards what to do with it, or where to put it so it can be found when wanted in the future. Here is a book that solves the problem:
in which one may keep a record of the plays seen, the date, play, theatre, in whose company, coupon of seats, comment on the play and players, synopsis of scenes, cast of characters, pictures, scenes and clippings pertaining to the play.
The paper (India Tint) is of fine quality; the printing is in colors; the binding is cloth with an appropriate cover design in colors; the whole making a very attractive book for gift purposes, or for one's own use, and is put up in a handsome box.
8¾ x 6¾ inches, cloth binding (boxed)$1.50Full limp leather, gilt edges (boxed)3.00
8¾ x 6¾ inches, cloth binding (boxed)$1.50Full limp leather, gilt edges (boxed)3.00
For sale at all book stores, or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price, by the publishers
BARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
BARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
DINNERS AND LUNCHEONSCompiled byPaul PierceThe busy housewife is ever seeking for something new—for unique ideas for these occasions. This book is full of suggestions—"Ice Breakers, for Getting the Company Started Right," "Sentiments and Quotations for Dinner Menus," "Dinners for Patriotic and Special Occasions and appropriate table stories and toasts," "Favors and Place Cards," "Helps Over Hard Places," "Don'ts for the Table," "Passing the Loving Cup," are some of the many hints.Appropriate cover design in colors. Size 6¼ x 4½ in.50cPARTIES AND ENTERTAINMENTSCompiled byPaul Pierce"What shall I do to entertain my friends?" is always the question that confronts the hostess. It is answered here. This little book is made up of new and novel suggestions for all kinds of occasions, something to replace the thread-worn ideas of old time social usage. Here are some of the chapter headings: "A Rainbow Bridge," "A German Whist," "Golf Euchre," "Valentine's Day," "St. Patrick's Day," "April Fool's Day," "Easter," "Decoration Day," "Fourth of July," "Hallowe'en," "Thanksgiving Day," "Christmas," "New Year's," "Birthday," "Colonial Ball," "Lawn Parties," "Children's Parties," etc.Appropriate cover design in colors. Size 6¼ x 4½ in.50cFor sale at all book stores, or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price, by the publishersBARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
Compiled byPaul Pierce
The busy housewife is ever seeking for something new—for unique ideas for these occasions. This book is full of suggestions—"Ice Breakers, for Getting the Company Started Right," "Sentiments and Quotations for Dinner Menus," "Dinners for Patriotic and Special Occasions and appropriate table stories and toasts," "Favors and Place Cards," "Helps Over Hard Places," "Don'ts for the Table," "Passing the Loving Cup," are some of the many hints.
Appropriate cover design in colors. Size 6¼ x 4½ in.50c
Compiled byPaul Pierce
"What shall I do to entertain my friends?" is always the question that confronts the hostess. It is answered here. This little book is made up of new and novel suggestions for all kinds of occasions, something to replace the thread-worn ideas of old time social usage. Here are some of the chapter headings: "A Rainbow Bridge," "A German Whist," "Golf Euchre," "Valentine's Day," "St. Patrick's Day," "April Fool's Day," "Easter," "Decoration Day," "Fourth of July," "Hallowe'en," "Thanksgiving Day," "Christmas," "New Year's," "Birthday," "Colonial Ball," "Lawn Parties," "Children's Parties," etc.
Appropriate cover design in colors. Size 6¼ x 4½ in.50c
For sale at all book stores, or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price, by the publishers
BARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
BARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
GAMES FORALL OCCASIONSBy MARY E. BLAINA most complete book of games for young and old—games for tiny tots—games for children and games for adults. Also games for special occasions such asHALLOWE'ENST. VALENTINE'S DAYCHRISTMASLINCOLN'S BIRTHDAYEASTERFOURTH OF JULYMAY DAYNEW YEAR'S DAYWASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY, ETC.A great many new and novel suggestions are given as to how to decorate the house and what to serve on these special occasions.Cloth binding, size 5¼ in. x 7¼ in., net 50c.For sale at all book stores, or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price, by the publishersBARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
By MARY E. BLAIN
A most complete book of games for young and old—games for tiny tots—games for children and games for adults. Also games for special occasions such as
A great many new and novel suggestions are given as to how to decorate the house and what to serve on these special occasions.
Cloth binding, size 5¼ in. x 7¼ in., net 50c.
For sale at all book stores, or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price, by the publishers
BARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
TOASTS ANDAFTER-DINNER STORIESBeing a careful selection of the best toasts and sentiments, new and old, gleaned from the writings of standard and popular authors and conveniently arranged for reference. The scope of the subjects is wide and the variety such that this book is all that could be desired in a book of toasts. The latter half of the book is a collection of side-splitting and clever stories as told by the great humorists and well-known after-dinner speakers. Here again the wide range of subjects makes this book especially useful and withal highly entertaining. The idea of a combination of toasts and stories (two-books-in-one) is attractive.Cloth binding. Cover design in five colors from appropriate drawing. Size 6¼ x 4½ in.50cFor sale at all book stores, or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price, by the publishersBARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
Being a careful selection of the best toasts and sentiments, new and old, gleaned from the writings of standard and popular authors and conveniently arranged for reference. The scope of the subjects is wide and the variety such that this book is all that could be desired in a book of toasts. The latter half of the book is a collection of side-splitting and clever stories as told by the great humorists and well-known after-dinner speakers. Here again the wide range of subjects makes this book especially useful and withal highly entertaining. The idea of a combination of toasts and stories (two-books-in-one) is attractive.
Cloth binding. Cover design in five colors from appropriate drawing. Size 6¼ x 4½ in.50c
For sale at all book stores, or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price, by the publishers
BARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK
BARSE & HOPKINS526 WEST 26th STREETNEW YORK