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"EVERY body in nature attracts every other body with a force directly as its mass and inversely as the square of its distance." This has been called "The magnificent theory of universal gravitation which was the crowning glory of Newton's life." I doubt not many of you have struggled manfully with this law as laid down in your school-books, and, having conquered it, and fixed the principle in your minds to stay, you may like to know something about the philosopher himself. In 1642, a puny, sickly baby was supposed to be moaning away its young life in Lincolnshire, England.
This child's name was Isaac Newton. He belonged to a country gentleman's family. His father having died, his mother's second marriage occasioned the giving of the child into the care of his grandmother. As he grew older he gained in health and was sent to school. Having inherited a small estate, as soon as he had acquired an education which was considered sufficient to enable him to attend to the duties of one in his position, he was removed from school and entrusted with the management of his estate. However, this young Newton developed a passion for mathematical studies which led him to neglect the business connected with his estate. He busied himself in the construction of toys illustrating the principles of mechanics. These were not the clumsy work which might be expected from the hands of a schoolboy, but were finished with exceeding care and delicacy. It is said there is still in existence two at least of these toys; one is an hour-glass kept in the rooms of the Royal Society in London.
Isaac Newton's mother was a wise woman in that she did not discourage his desire for the pursuing of his studies and for investigation. She did not say, "Now, my son, you must put away these notions and attend to your business. You have a property here which it is your duty to manage and enjoy. You should find satisfaction in your position as a country squire and consider that you have no need of further study." On the contrary, this mother allowed her son to continue his studies; he was prepared forand entered the college at Cambridge when he was eighteen. From that period until his death, at eighty-five, he devoted himself unweariedly to mathematical and philosophical studies.
portraitSIR ISAAC NEWTON.
SIR ISAAC NEWTON.
You all know the story of the falling apple. He had been driven by the plague in London to spend some time at his country-seat in Woolstrop, and while resting one day in his garden he saw an apple fall to the ground. Suddenly the question occurred, Why should the apple fall to the ground? Why, when detached from the branch, did it not fly off in some other direction?
And where do you suppose he found the answer? Read the first sentence of this article and see ifyoufind it there! The truth had been the controlling power of all the falling apples since the creation, but it had never before been understood or formulated; perhaps this discovery of the law of universal gravitation gave him more renown than all his other labors put together.
He met with a sad misfortune, later, when, by the accidental upsetting of a lighted candle, the work of twenty years was destroyed. The story as told by a biographer is, that Sir Isaac left his pet dog alone in his study for a few moments, and during this brief absence the dog overturned the candle amongst the papers on the study table. It is further told as an evidence of the calmness and patience of the great man, that he only said, "Ah! Fido, you little know of the mischief you have done!"
But although he was so quiet under the great loss, the trial was almost too much for him; for a time his health seemed to give way, and his mental powers suffered from the effects of the shock. He died in 1725, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.
Faye Huntington.
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A
AMONG the women of history we find not a few artists; and of these Anna Maria Angelica Kauffman gained no mean reputation. She lived and worked and suffered during the latter half of the eighteenth century, dying in 1807. Her early life was spent in Switzerland, that land of romantic scenery. She opened her eyes in this world first among the mountains that rise above the beautiful and fertile valleys whose southern slopes teem with vines, whose highlands afford pasturage for the flocks of the farmers. Our artist's father was a travelling painter. Of his work we have no account. He is known to us only as the father of a gifted woman. Inheriting a love of art, she found in her father a ready sympathizer and willing helper. He gave her such instruction as he was able, and when he could carry her no farther in her studies, the family removed to Milan that she might have the opportunity of studying under more competent teachers. She had, however, before this—and she was only thirteen years old when they went to Milan—painted a portrait of the Bishop of Como, which gave her quite a reputation. At Milan she had an opportunity of mingling with other artists, and also the privilege of copying the finest pictures.
She excelled in portrait painting; when she went to London she was engaged to paint the portraits of "the most distinguished and beautiful ladies of the court." She everywhere received much attention, both on account of hertalents as an artist, and her beauty and charming manner. Some of her pictures are in the Royal Gallery in Dresden; others may be seen in the Louvre in Paris.
Faye Huntington.
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F
FORTY years ago last May, England fitted Sir John out with two fine ships. They were theErebusandTerror.
Away they sailed from the wharf where many came to see them off, among them Lady Franklin, Sir John's wife.
Away they pushed through the sea toward the North. On they went, further and further from their home, to see if they could find the North Pole or what was called the "Northwest Passage."
Soon they met icebergs, or great mountain castles, moving down from the north. But theErebusandTerrorturned aside and sailed north, north, north, hundreds of miles.
Then the winter came on. The two ships were soon hedged in by the ice. They could neither go forward nor backward. The ice became thicker and thicker; the nights longer and colder. The men were clothed in fur, and there were stoves in the ships, but they shivered with the cold. No word came to them from their friends. They, however, tried to be cheerful, hoping for spring and the breaking up of the ice so they could sail out of their prison and find the Northwest Passage.
They sang, told stories, read, celebrated each other's birthday; good Sir John read sermons and prayers to his men as was his custom and exhorted them to be of good cheer. It was a joyful thought to them of making wonderful discoveries in that strange land and then coming back some day with the news.
portraitJohn Franklin
John Franklin
But the spring came and went, another and another, but no tidings of Sir John. Then there was alarm. Meetings were called, speeches made, great sums of money raised; brave captains and crews offered to go in search of him. Vessel after vessel went and came, only to report failure.
Five years passed; seven; nine; ten—Hope was dying—eleven. Lady Franklin did not give up, but fitted out, at her own expense, a little ship.
Captain and sailors bid good-by to wives and friends, not knowing they would ever see them again, as they resolved not to come back till they found out something as to the fate of Sir John.
So this little ship disappeared far away northward, and, like the others, in a few weeks, was in the midst of majestic palaces of ice.
But it worked its way on, when, lo! one day as the captain was hunting here and there, he came upon parts of a ship, and he knew it was Sir John's. He also found Sir John's own handwriting and many other things that told of great sufferings and death.
It appeared that he had died June 11th, 1847; but he was not found till 1857. All had perished.
He was a noble Christian man, with a heart tender as a woman's.
When the little ship came back with the news, England mourned as did this nation over the fate of Sir John Franklin.
C. M. L.
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Round the Family Lamp
HAVE each of the company put on a sheet, securing it around himself like the pictures of a Roman toga. Put on his head a pillowslip, making it assume any fanciful shape desired, and bringing it closely around his face, concealing features as much as possible. All this must be donebeforeassembling, as it is the object to have players disguised as far as possible from each other. Have your Leader chosen. Then you must follow him implicitly; whoever fails to, must be counted out of the game. Those who do not wish to dress in sheet-and-pillow-case costume must form audience. The Leader must wear high above his pillow-case-enveloped head, a small United States flag, so that all can recognize him as Leader.
(You will remember that the fourth of March is always the Inauguration Day, when the President of the United States goes into the White House as Leader for four years.)
Now let the Leader start to music from the piano—through the parlors, halls, dining-room—perhaps if the cook is pleasant, to the kitchen. These little games do a great deal to draw all the family together with a happy feeling. If he stops a minute to examine anything, the company following him in Indian file must stop too and imitate his movements, as if examining something closely. If he says in the course of his travels "ooh—ooh!" just like a pig, each one of the pillow-slip-and-sheet brigade must say "ooh—ooh!" also in the same tonewithout smiling, unless he laughs. If he says "cock-a-doodle-doo-o!" each one must say it. Whoever fails to follow his Leader imitating him in everything, and whoever smiles or laughs, or says anything unless the Leader does, must be pointed out by the audience, dropped out of ranks, set up in a corner, told to stand there until the game is played out, and all take off sheets and pillow-slips—to sit down and laugh over it all, before plates of apples and cracked walnuts.
May you have a jolly time with your March game. I wish I could play one with the Pansies.
Margaret Sidney.
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Y
YEARS ago, a man now living in Cincinnati was sent by the President to South America to look after the interests of our country there. The people were very kind to him, and, among other gifts, presented him a parrot on his return home.
I spent a day at his house and had many funny talks with Poll; parrots can talk after a fashion.
She was a fine lady, not so large as some you may have seen at the New Orleans Exposition. Some of them were from two to three feet long. One was perfectly green; another, white; a third, nearly all bright colors.
The one I saw in Cincinnati was fond of her friends, but sulky and cross to me, a stranger.
She had learned many wicked words from passers-by, swearing words even. When she could not have her own way and, like other folks, was out of humor, she would "let fly" her worst opinions of people and things in her bad language.
At such times she did not seem so beautiful with all her gay plumage. Few folks do appear well when out of sorts, no matter how rich and fashionable their clothes. Remember that.
In the picture you see a parrot sitting upon a perch. It is another one and there is a long story about it. But all stories can't be put intoThe Pansywithout bursting its covers. However, you may hear a little about this one and think out the rest when your thinkers get time.
This Pol came from a distant land. She had such rich feathers, and could talk and sing so well, and, withal, her manners and behavior were so correct that she made friends of everybody.
So in due time Pol was treated like one of the family and as one of the first ladies in society—so far as a parrot could be. Her bread and drinkand bed were all any bird could wish. She had the freedom of the house. Without asking, she could go up stairs or down, out door, into the barn, to the top of the highest trees, sometimes to the neighbors. She always came home at meal and bed time. Every one, nearly, knew her and treated her politely. Thus she forgot her far-away relations and became happy "as happy can be." She was now a maiden lady of sixty years. Some parrots live to be one hundred. Pol's life had been pleasant as a June morning. But June doesn't last forever. Trouble came.
One day she went out to call and was quietly walking home. A bad boy met her and made some provoking remarks. Instead of paying no attention to such creatures and going right on her way, she stopped, listened, lost her temper and "sauced him back." Then what should the fellow do but strike Pol and tear out some of her finest feathers and, leaving her half-dead, went his way. Pol managed to drag herself home, and, as best she could, tell what had happened.
How grieved they all were and wondered who could have treated her so cruelly. They suspected who had done it; for that boy was given to such things. Some seem to delight in giving pain to animals. I need not say what was done to that hateful boy. He deserved punishment and received it. But Poor Pol, what of her? She was tenderly washed and coaxed to eat and tell more about it. Her appetite left her in spite of all that could be done and she became sad and silent and wished to retire to bed.
It was hoped that she would feel better in the morning; but when morning came, there she sat, her wings drooping and her eyes cast down like one that is passing through great sorrow.
Near by lived a lad by the name of Eddie Landseer. He thought the world of Pol. As soon as he heard of her misfortune he came running in with a playmate, a bright little girl, to see what they could do for their afflicted neighbor.
Eddie was a great lover of horses, dogs, birds and almost all animals. Some say that when he went into the woods he would always carry something good for animals to eat and he would somehow call the squirrels and birds down around him from the trees. They would come and eat from his hands and let him handle them as tame animals do. He really seemed to know just how some animals feel and to cheer them in trouble. He took pains to study them as you do your Sunday-school lesson. So in he came with a most dainty dish for Pol.
He and his little friend were prettily dressed, not to show themselves, but to please Pol, for Eddie believed that she had an eye for beautiful clothes like her own. But when he saw Pol, how sad her countenance was and how she mourned over her lost feathers, he and Bertha could hardly keep back their tears.
However, they put on cheerful faces and sang so sweetly and begged so hard Pol actually got out of bed, arranged her feathers neatly, talking away as though nothing had happened.
Now, what if I should tell you that this Eddie became a great painter of animals! When he was but five years old he could draw pretty good pictures of cows and pigs; at eighteen he made that famous picture "Dogs of St. Gothard rescuing Travellers." Queen Victoria was so pleased with it she put honor upon his name and everywhere he was called Sir Edwin Landseer.
Some day you may see his famous picture "Peace and War." Ten years ago was seen in Philadelphia his wonderful painting "The Sick Monkey." Many people would stop a long while looking at it; the mother monkey had the sick one in her arms. The poor thing seemed ready to cry, while all the other monkeys looked at the sick one with such sad eyes. It is said no artist has done so much to teach us how to love animals.
Did you ever hear of Mr. Henry Bergh? He has spent many years writing, speaking and pleading with law-makers to pass laws to protect animals from cruelty. I suppose if the horses of New York City, where he lives, could speak, they would all daily shout to him as they see him on Broadway, Thank you, dear friend Bergh. No living man has ever cared so much for our race as you have."
If they knew how, they would surely shake hands with him, and when he comes to die build a grand monument to his memory. It would seem as though God's love is in his heart. Jesus came to save the worst people, even those who nailed him to the cruel cross. Surely Jesus pitied the poor helpless animals. Not one sparrow falls to the ground without his notice. Try to be a friend to animals, won't you?
C. M. L.
two sad children"EDDIE AND BERTHA COULD HARDLY KEEP BACK THEIR TEARS."
"EDDIE AND BERTHA COULD HARDLY KEEP BACK THEIR TEARS."
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The P. S. Corner
ARE you having a good time with the March winds, my Blossoms? But then, you are so scattered that you can have all sorts of times. Some of you may be blowing around the street corners in a way to make you think of balloons, while others of you are picking wild-wood flowers in the sunny South; and away down in Maine, the boys are snowballing, while away on the southern slopes of California the girls are gathering roses! What a wonderful world it is!
Oh! do you know, my dear Pansies, I am going West this summer? I can't tell you much about it until the summer is over and I am settled down again for winter work; but I mean to keep my eyes wide open on purpose for you. I shall be in Utah, I think, and in Kansas, and Wisconsin, and Nebraska, and I don't know just where, but you shall know all about it after I have been, and returned. Wide-open eyes; that is our motto for the summer. I know a great many of you are going away, to the seaside, to the mountains, to Chautauqua, to Europe, where not? Will you be selfish, dwarfed-up little Pansies, keeping all your delights of travel to yourselves, or will you keep diaries of all the interesting things you see, and hear, and learn, and write beautiful letters for the stay-at-homes? Why not? Let us join hands and see how much we can use our eyes and ears for others during the long bright summer.
Lovingly,Pansy.
Louiefrom New York. My dear, I hopeThe Pansycame in time for the "little brother's birthday." We made all possible speed. Yes, Faye Huntington is to continue her work forThe Pansyduring another year. I am glad you love her. So do I. Please give my kind regards to your mamma, whom I remember very well.
Mamiefrom Connecticut. You dear little Blossom! I am glad you have not choked yourself with pins before you took your pledge! I presume you think you never would have done so; but do you really suppose there was ever a person who choked to death with a pin,on purpose? Yet there have been deaths caused in just that way. Your mother will be glad that you have resolved to give up so foolish and dangerous a habit.
Emilyfrom Maryland. Your pledge commences with the right sentence, my friend. One who honestly trusts in His help, is sure to succeed. I think you will find it helpful if you will study His life on earth, and see how many proofs you can find of His perfect unselfishness.
MariaandLucyfrom Missouri. Welcome, my little Missouri sisters. May you blossom luxuriantly in that sunny land. I hope the "temper" will grow as sweet as the Southern jessamine which I enjoyed so much in your South land last winter, and that the little fingers tempted to be "tardy" now, will quicken under the spell of the earnest pledge which has been taken.
Wardfrom Michigan. Glad to receive you, my boy. "I can't" is an enemy who has stolen many a grand action from boys and girls as well as from men and women. Did you ever notice also, that he generally speaks what is false? Nearly always "I can't" means "I don't want to," or a bold "I won't."
Inafrom Iowa. Dear friend, do you know of what your pledge reminds me? Of a great many grown people who, though pledged to obey the Lord Jesus, forget to "mind" him so often, now that he is away. While you are carefully keeping your pledge to obey the dear mamma as well in her absence as when her eye is on you, will you sometimes think of Jesus, and his wish that we should remember always that his eye is on us?
Mayfrom Iowa. You are not alone in that fault. I know many people who can "remember" the faults of others, while seeming to be quite forgetful about their own. It is a goodrule to remember nothing against any other person, unless we believe that Jesus Christ wants us to remember it, and speak of it, in order to help somebody else.
Othofrom Iowa. Another little "high" temper. A temper is an excellent thing if it is of the right sort. It wants to be even; neither "high" nor "low." Try hard to make yours what in your honest little heart you think it ought to be. Remember your greatest help will be found in our Whisper Motto.
Royfrom Michigan. My boy, I liked your letter ever so much. Do you know how much that is? Yes, I am sure you do. It is so full of suggestions for the other Pansies that I am going to copy some of it for them. It is a great thing to be able always to "speak pleasantly." What a power for good you will be in this cross world, if you keep your pledge. To be pleasant, when everything is going crooked, or at least seems to be, is a virtue which very few people have.
Arthurfrom Chicago. How is the "club" succeeding? I am more than willing that you should have an officer's badge if you earn it. What "kind acts" have you succeeded in doing since you took your pledge? Is there not some story growing out of them that you can tell us, and so help others?
Kittyfrom Vermont. Yes indeed, we want all the "kittens" of your sort that we can get hold of. Oh! I know all about the people who do not hang up their clothes. Aren't they troublesome, though! What a pleasant thing it will be to "mamma" to find all the dresses, and sacks, and hats and hoods in their places, after this! I should not wonder if the clothes-press did not know itself, and if the piano, and the table in the back hall, and the hat-rack in the corner should feel very lonesome, in the course of time. But a certain Pansy Badge will blush for joy!
Berthafrom Connecticut. Glad you like the badge. Andsoglad to think the poor little fingers do not get "sucked" any more. Will you give my dear love to "aunt Katie," and kiss her very softly and sweetly for me? I know something about that precious "Shut in Band;" I used to have a dear friend who was a member of it. But the Master one day called her out, to do active work, and she has been in the field ever since.
Pearlfrom Indiana. Teeth are very important and much abused members of society, my dear Pearl. I hope yours will reward you for good care, by never aching a bit. By the way, little Pearl, I wonder if you know the fourth commandment? See if you can tell me why I wonder it.
Marionfrom Iowa. We welcome our new Western Blossom. It is astonishing to me how many of my Blossoms hate to shut their eyes when night comes! At least, they and "mamma" someway cannot agree as to the best time to do it. Now in a "truly" pansy bed, I have noticed that the Blossoms seem to be glad when night, and dew, and hush, tell them that the resting time has come. Can it be, do you suppose, that they, without souls, or brains, are more obedient to the Gardener's voice than little human blossoms succeed in being? Some people who are quick-witted are strongly tempted to "answer back," especially when they think of something which would be "just the thing" to say. I knew a wise man who said when he was a boy, he had to adopt the habit of counting ten before he answered a person in argument, because if he didn't, he was sure to say what he was sorry for afterwards. I have often thought if some people I know would "count ten" oftener, they would not say so many foolish and disagreeable things.
Frankfrom Ohio. Impatient, are you? Well, there is a wonderful promise for such as you in the Bible. See if you can find it. I haven't the least doubt but that you want to grow up a great man; and here is your opportunity.
Lilliefrom Connecticut. My dear, I earnestly hope the patience with which you waited has long before this been rewarded. They do seem to be very slow people in Boston, sometimes, but when there are so many "lilies," and roses, and pansies to be attended to all at once, how can they help it? We are glad to get your full name for enrollment. Are you also the secretary of your Band? If so, we shall hope for an account of your meetings. The Pansies like to know how the different members of their great army conduct their monthly meetings.
Lesterfrom Ohio. My boy, we are glad that you are not only a subscriber, but a worker. "Teasing" is really a great nuisance. Between you and me, don't you really think so yourself? I asked a boy who is fond of doing disagreeable things "just for fun," whether he really thought he should like to have them done to him, and he opened his eyes wide, and said: "Why, of course not!" Yet it had not seemed to occur to him what a mean spirit he confessed in that very sentence. I am very glad to receive your pledge.
Jenniefrom Connecticut. I shall want to hear all about the bed-quilt when it is done. I am acquainted with a society of girls who made a beautiful album quilt not long ago. The blocks were of silk, given by the ladies of the church. The young girls did the work, very nicely, and allowed their lady and gentleman friends to write their names in the centre blocks, for ten cents each. The money thus secured they sent toward the support of their little adopted girl in Alaska, and the quilt they sent for a Christmas present to their minister's wife, who was away from home, sick, and lonely. The names on the blocks were those of her friends in whom she was much interested, and many of the pieces of silk were well known to her, and gave her pleasant thoughts of the original givers; so the work was a comfort and a help all around. "Besides," said one of the girls, "we learned to sew beautifully, that winter. Mrs. F. would accept nothing but the very nicest stitches." A great many people "forget" what they ought to remember. I am glad you have left their ranks.
Rayfrom Colorado. What a rich boy you are to have so much company in your own home! Also, what a good boy you must try to be, when you have so many who will be sure to follow your example. It is a good thing you have taken a pledge not to "speak cross" any more. If the twins should learn such things from you, how sad it would be!
MinnieandFloyfrom Wisconsin. My dear little friends, it will be a great victory when you learn not to be impatient over anything, and to be pleasant when you feel cross! Oh yes, you can even do such hard things as those. But let me remind you that you will need the help of the Whisper Motto every hour of the day. I am glad the birthday present was a Bible. I think you must both of you study it a little, and try to follow it, else you would hardly have such good reports from school. By the way, I must tell you a story about my Bible. It was given me when I was eight years old. On Sunday, in church, the sermon was long, and I grew very tired, so I thought I would put something on the fly leaf of my new Bible which would be very appropriate, and which would not be wrong to write on Sunday. I worked away at it, and produced in my best style, these lines:
Holy Bible book divinePreshus treshure thou art mine!
Actually, that was the way I put it! Don't you think my beautiful new Bible might have blushed, if it could express its feelings in that way?
Lizziefrom Kansas. So they "bite their finger nails" in Kansas, as well as everywhere else! Before our P. S. was organized I had not the least idea that fingers were so cruelly treated. What a pleasure it is to me to think that so many of them have peace now. We are glad to welcome you to our roll.
Susyfrom Elyria. There! I forgot to put the "a" in, after Susy. Well, I suppose you are called "Susy Sunbeam." I think that is a lovely name. It shows there must be a good deal of sunshine in your life. I know a young lady whose face is always so bright and happy that her home friends call her "Sunny," and I have often thought she might be proud of the pet name. I am glad you like "Grandpa's Darlings." It is a true book. The dear grandpa was my very own blessed father; and the children, Minie and Grace, were my pet nieces. Grace is now a young lady and lives in the same house with me, and works all day with her pencils and her paints, learning to be an artist. As for Minie, I don't know what she does all the long bright days. She was called years ago, to her Father's palace; for she is the daughter of a great King. We do not hear from her; but we know much about the beautiful home where she lives, and we are all looking forward to going there, some day, to be with her, for the King has promised to send for us—all. More than that, he has invited any one to come who would like to do so. Will you go?
Ellafrom New York. I do wonder what there is about a piano which should nearly always make young people impatient? Do you suppose the fault is in the instrument? I have sometimes thought that if such is the case, they ought to go out of fashion. But perhaps the little Pansy Badge will be too much for yours. Let me hear how you succeed.
Clarafrom Iowa. I hope you received the autograph safely, my dear, and that you like the picture. "Cack" is certainly a very original nom de plume. What do you write? I once had a little friend who called on me to ask how she should finish her book! She said she knew how to begin it, and how to make itvery long, but itwouldnot end! I think a great many people are troubled in that way. Don't you?
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NOW all you Pansies who have grown too old to enjoy sweet cunning things written on purpose for five and six and seven-year-old Blossoms, may skip this article.
The gray-headed fathers and mothers, and the dear sweet grandmothers who never grow old, will enjoy it as much as the darlings themselves; but I am aware that there is an age somewhere between ten and sixteen when almost everything that the babies can enjoy is "too young!" All those are requested not to listen, while I tell about the "Ballad Of The Lost Hare." A big book, with a bright cover, and with a great many colored pictures large and bright, and with the cunningest little story running all through the book, about a poor little, dear little, naughty little hare.
Yes, I am going to copy just a bit of the introduction for you. Listen:
Far from wild, far from wood,In a field rich and good;Near to hill and winding glade,Lived the naughtiest Hare, ever was made.Father scolded, mother whipped,But every day away he slipped.Brothers three, and sisters two,Cried and cried, as off he flew.Sore-sore-sore was the sobbing,Wild-wild-wild was his race;Only the woods to echo his footsteps,Only the winds his hiding place.
After the introduction, come the stories of his adventures; and the pictures of them. Oh! but you would be so sorry for him if you could see the cow, and the goat, and the pony that scared him nearly out of his small wits!
And then the conclusion! Ah me, the sad ending of it all!
Do you suppose he wishes his home to see,His sisters two, and his brothers three?Would he like to lie down in his own little bed?And does he recall what his father said?
running hareOFF HE FLEW.
OFF HE FLEW.
There! I mustn't tell you any more, or the whole story will be out. Buy it, my darlings, and read it for yourselves; it is in nice clear print. Or, if you haven't quite managed that business of reading yet, let me whisper a word in your ear: those wise old brothers and sisters of yours, who have known how to read these five years, and are ciphering in fractions, and writing essays on "Spring," will be willing to read the story, just to please you, you know, not for their own amusement, at all; oh no! Try them.
Now who do you think wrote it for you?
Who but Margaret Sidney herself! the author of "Five Little Peppers," which you liked so much; and the author of "Kensington Junior," and you know how many more nice things. Of course you will want the book.
The price? Oh yes, surely, I had almost forgotten. Why, it has a special price on purpose for the wee P. S. Blossoms. Only sixty cents. Think of it!
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PROSPECTUS WIDE AWAKE 1886
A mother, whose five children have readWide Awakein her company from its first number to its latest, writes: "I like the magazine because it is full of Impulses. Another thing—when I lay it down I feel as if I had been walking on breezy hill-tops."
SIX ILLUSTRATED SERIALS:
Every boy who sailed in fancy the late exciting races of thePuritanand theGenesta, and all lovers of sea stories, will enjoy these two stories of Newport and Ocean Yachting, byCharles Remington Talbot.
Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford, in this delicious White Mountain Romance, writes her first young folks' magazine serial.
Margaret Sidneywrites these two amusing Adventure Serials for Little Folks. Thirty-six illustrations each.
VI. A Six Months' Story(title to be announced), byCharles Egbert Craddock, author ofDown the Ravine.
ROYAL GIRLS AND ROYAL COURTS.
ByMrs. John Sherwood. This series, brilliant and instructive, will begin in the Christmas number and run through the year.
A CYCLE OF CHILDREN.
ByElbridge S. Brooks. Illustrations by Howard Pyle. Twelve historical stories celebrating twelve popular holidays.
STORIES OF AMERICAN WARS.
Thrilling incidents in our various American warfares. Each story will have a dramatic picture. The first six are:
IN PERIL.
A romantic dozen of adventures, but all strictly true. Each story will be illustrated. The first six are:
YOUTH IN TWELVE CENTURIES.
A beautiful art feature. Twenty-four superb studies of race-types and national costumes, by F. Childe Hassam, with text by M. E. B.
FIRE-PLACE STORIES.
This article will be a notable feature of the Christmas number. The rich illustrations include glimpses of Holland, Assyria, Persia, Moorish Spain and New England, with two paintings in clay modelled expressly forWide Awake, and reproduced in three tones.
SOME SPECIAL ARTICLES:
TWELVE BALLADS.
These are by twelve of the foremost women poets of America. Each ballad will fill five to seven pictorial pages. The first six are:
The Deacon's Little Maid.A ballad of early New England. By Mrs.A. D. T. Whitney. Illustrations by Miss L. B. Humphrey.
The Story of the Chevalier.A ballad of the wars of Maria Theresa. ByMrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford. Illustrations by E. H. Garrett.
The Minute Man.A ballad of the "Shot heard round the World." ByMargaret Sidney. Illustrations by Hy. Sandham.
The Hemlock Tree.A ballad of a Maine settlement. ByLucy Larcom. Illustrations by Edmund H. Garrett.
The Children's Cherry Feast.A ballad of the Hussite War. ByNora Perry. Illustrations by George Foster Barnes.
Little Alix.A ballad of the Children's Crusade. BySusan Coolidge. Illustrations by F. H. Lungren.
Many other enjoyments are in readiness; among them a Thanksgiving poem by Helen Jackson (H. H.), the last poem we can ever give our readers from her pen; "A Daughter of the Sea-Folks," a romantic story of Ancient Holland, by Susan Coolidge; "An Entertainment of Mysteries," By Anna Katherine Greene, author of the celebrated "detective novels;" foreign MSS. and drawings by Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Pennell; "Stoned by a Mountain," by Rose G. Kingsley; a frontier-life story by Mrs. Custer, author ofBoots and Saddles; a long humorous poem by Christina Rossetti; Arctic Articles by Lieut. Frederick Schwatka; "A Tiny Tale of Travel," a prose story by Celia Thaxter; a "Trotty" story, by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps; beautiful stories by Grace Denio Litchfield, Mary E. Wilkins and Katherine B. Foote; a lively boys' story by John Preston True; "Pamela's Fortune," by Mrs. Lucy C. Lillie; "'Little Captain' of Buckskin Camp," by F. L. Stealey—in short, the magazine will brim over with good things.
THE C. Y. F. R. U. READINGS
meet the growing demand for thehelpfulin literature, history, science, art and practical doing. The Course for 1885-86 includes
I. Pleasant Authors for Young Folks.(American Series.) ByAmanda B. Harris.II. My Garden Pets.ByMary Treat, author ofHome Studies in Nature.III. Souvenirs of My Time.(Foreign Series.) ByMrs. Jessie Benton Fremont.IV. Some Italian Authors and Their Work.ByGeorge E. Vincent(son of Chancellor Vincent).V. Ways to Do Things.By various authors.VI. Strange Teas, Weddings, Dinners and Fetes.By their Guests and Givers.VII. Search-Questions in English Literature.ByOscar Fay Adams.
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WIDE AWAKE is only $3.00 a year.D. LOTHROP & CO., Publishers, Franklin and Hawley Sts., Boston, Mass., U. S. A.