The aquarium presents a field for delightful and ever-varying study, as its inhabitants belong to the most curious and interesting of ocean and fresh-water creatures. Fishes alone are well worthy of close observation; and when to these are added odd little reptiles, queer shell-fish, and different classes of the wonderful zoophytes, an aquarium presents a constantly changing picture of the marvels of ocean life.
The zoophytes are the most remarkable of all marine creatures. The name zoophyte comes from two Greek words—zoön, an animal, and phyton, a plant—and therefore has the literal signification of animal-plant.
An important member of the zoophyte family, and one often introduced into aquaria, is the actinia, or sea-anemone, sometimes called sea-rose. Sea-anemones were for a long time considered as vegetables, beautiful and gayly colored flowers of the ocean, and only comparatively recent investigation has discovered them to be animals, and blood-thirsty, voracious little robbers and murderers of the worst character.
One of the most common among the many varieties of sea-anemones is the Actinia mesembryanthemum. The polypus-hunter who finds this living flower clinging to sea-coast rocks, and bears it home as an addition to his aquarium, unless he is already acquainted with the nature of his prize, will behold with astonishment and delight the wondrous variations in the appearance of this little creature. Clinging to the rocks, the anemone probably appeared like a round leathery bag drawn in at the centre; but when placed on the miniature cliffs of the aquarium, a wondrous transformation takes place. The bag gradually expands, a mouth appears in the centre, and from it unfold a multitude of petals of a variety of colors—pale scarlet, blood-red, orange, and white—which wave gently back and forth like a graceful nodding flower. Now drop a small earth-worm or tiny fish in the water. The instant it touches the least of these petal-like tentacles the whole flower is in commotion, all the arms reaching toward the struggling victim, and holding it in a grasp so firm that escape is impossible, and it is soon drawn into the capacious and hungry stomach. Every animated thing that comes within reach of the tentacles of the anemone is mercilessly seized and devoured. Even small mollusks and Crustacea are unable to resist the power of the grasping threads, and crabs are often conquered and swallowed by this voracious living flower. For this reason sea-anemones are dangerous inhabitants of an aquarium stocked with creatures having the power of locomotion, and are best placed in a tank with other zoophytes like themselves. How often they eat when free in their natural element is unknown, but weekly feeding is said to be sufficient to sustain them in an aquarium. Small bits of meat are acceptable food, which can be dropped into the water. The instant a descending morsel touches the petals, or tentacles, of a hungry anemone, it is eagerly seized and drawn into the open, greedy mouth. The Actinia mesembryanthemum is a very long-lived creature, and certain specimens are reported to have lived over twenty years in aquaria in England.
There are many varieties of sea-anemones, and although all possess the same distinguishing characteristics, they vary in the form and color of the open flower. The Actinia gemmacia, which is like a gorgeous sunflower, is said to be the most voracious of its kind. An English naturalist describes a specimen which swallowed a shell as large as a saucer, its own diameter not being over two inches. Its elastic stomach extended sufficiently to receive this enormous prey; but as the shell completely separated the upper half of the animal from the lower, a new mouth began immediately to form, through which to convey nourishment to the lower portion, thus presenting the curious spectacle of a double-headed monster in miniature. So remarkable are the anemones in their reproductive power, that if the tentacles are injured or broken off, new ones immediately form, and if the animal be cut in two, new mouths form, and soon two perfect animals are waving their graceful tentacles to and fro in the water.
The locomotive power of the anemone, or actinia, is very sluggish. It will remain days and weeks in the same spot, and it moves only by sliding one edge of its base very slowly along the object to which it is fastened, and drawing the other after it. It can therefore never pursue its food, and appears to have no sense except that of touch, as a worm or shiner may float in the water all about the anemone without causing it the slightest agitation; but if the tiniest tip of one of its tentacles be touched, or brushed even, the whole creature is alive in an instant, and grasping for its prey. In the centre of the illustration are two specimens of this animal-plant, the wondrous flesh-eating flower of the ocean. To the left may be seen a specimen of the Eledone moschata—a small and very common member of the octopus family. The eledone is a hideous-looking beast. Its small eyes, which it can open and shut at will, are glistening, and of changing iris. Its long arms are strong enough to grasp a mussel shell, and hold it firmly until its contents are devoured. At the least touch a dark color instantly appears spread over the whole body of this curious creature, and dark prickly spines arise, which impart a stinging sensation when handled, like the anemone and sea-nettle.
The two odd-looking things in the background of the engraving are specimens of the limulus, or arrow-tailed crab. The upper side of the limulus is covered with two smooth overlapping shields, in which are two tiny eyes. Armed with six pairs of nippers, the limulus often fights its companions in the aquarium, and boldly engages in battle with the eledone, which, with its long arms, is more than a match for the pugilistic crab, whose retreat and utter discomfiture generally end the battle, for, thrown on its back, it can with difficulty right itself. If a limulus and eledone be confined in the same tank, almost daily must the former be rescued from the arms of the latter.
The palm-like creature to the right of the picture is a Spirographis, or tube-worm. This savage little beast lives in a tube formed of particles of lime or grains of sand, and stretches its gill-like threads upward, in search of food, in the form of a spiral wreath. It is very sensitive, and at the least touch on the surface of the water, or on the walls of the tank, the threads are instantly withdrawn into the tube.
In the background may be seen the waving, bell-like Medusa aurita, armed with prickly threads. It belongs to the jelly-fish family, and loves to lie near the surface of the water, but it is with great difficulty kept alive in an aquarium. When it dies, it dissolves itself into the watery element of which it is so largely composed, and its fairy-like skin can scarcely be discovered in the tank.
Now it is April, and the time has come to explore the woods and wilds.
Let us hasten to welcome the first blossom, so delicate and yet daring to face the uncertain sky of early spring.
Happy are they who live in the country, who have the freedom of rural roads, rocky banks, wooded hills, and smiling meadows! The young botanical student can not expect to become acquainted with all the wild plants in his vicinity in one summer, nor is this desirable; the pursuit will last for a lifetime, becoming more and more enchanting. But every one can make a pretty collection; and if, in addition to studying out the flowers, and keeping an accurate list of them, and pressing some of the most interesting, the young student will learn to draw with pen or pencil a few of the most simple and graceful, the pleasure will be greatly increased. A great deal of information might be given on botanical subjects, but in this brief article little more can be done than to mention the names of those plants which may be looked for during the month, and the localities they choose. Most of the flowers mentioned are found from Maine to Florida, and West and South as well, though some that are abundant in the Middle estates and on Western prairies avoid the chills of New England. The wild flowers delight in the semi-seclusion of pastures and meadows, and spring up along the lines of old fences in fields and on the hills and in the dim woods.
Among the earliest come the anemones, and one of the prettiest of these is the wood-anemone, or wind-flower. It grows from six to eight inches high, beside old stumps in the moist woodlands; the stem is smooth, and on the top nods a single flower, drooping, graceful, softly white, and shaded on the outside with pinkish-purple. Another of the same family, the rue-anemone, has a central blossom, pretty large, which is surrounded by a row of little buds and blossoms, which has given it the name of hen-and-chickens.
Another delightful April flower is the hepatica, growing sometimes in New England woods, but abundantly in the Middle States. This charming little plant is fond of the loveliest shades of deepest blue, fading into the palest purple and white, and on the Orange mountains, in New Jersey, are clumps of the most beautiful rose-color. The hepatica grows finely if transplanted.
Do not fail to find the snow-white bud of the bloodroot, which comes up wrapped in a charming little green cloak, and also the smallest of all the floral tribe, the Draba verna, with atoms of white flowers, and stems only an inch or two high. Some plants that may be easily found are:
Wood-anemone, margins of fields; New England.
Rue-anemone, same localities; New England.
Hepatica, woody hill-sides; Middle States.
Bloodroot, rich open woods; New England.
Blue violet, fields, meadows, hills; everywhere.
Draba verna, sandy fields and road-sides.
Spring beauty, moist open woods; New Jersey, South.
Wild geranium, open woods and fields; New England.
Erigenia, damp soil; New York, Pennsylvania.
Quaker ladies, road-sides, fields; everywhere.
Dandelion, road-sides, fields; everywhere.
Azalea, New England woods and elsewhere.
Benzoin—spice-bush—damp woods; New Jersey, Pennsylvania.
American mistletoe, New Jersey and South.
I fear I appear before you but illy prepared for the evening duties, as, mother-like, my week has been full of cares—unusually so. Being left to choose my own subject, I thought to speak briefly of a worthy but almost extinct family, or, indeed, I should say two families.
Many grown persons persist in declaring that the families have passed entirely out of existence, but I find there are a few of them to be found still on the rugged mountain-sides, on the plains, and down in the deep green valleys. Little children know them best, as they seem to be modest, retiring families, seldom or never intruding themselves on the notice of others. I conjecture, from the freedom with which little children use their names, that they must be a kindly, simple people. My little Mary, or Minnie, tells me almost every day of little Johnnie He or little Sallie She, and in my mind's eye I see little Johnnie He coming through his father's gate on his way to school—a plump, rosy-cheeked little fellow in white pants and blouse.
Most amiable and fair he looks,
That little Johnnie He,
While following close behind his heels
Is little Sallie She.
With flaxen curls and laughing eyes,
This little girl we greet,
Exclaim, "How fair is Johnnie He!
And Sallie She, how sweet!"
Very little is known of the ancestors of these simple people who dwell among the hills. It is believed they were a worthy, renowned family in their day and generation; but, alas! history has given us all too little of them. It is known that they were born hundreds of years ago, living bright and useful lives in the earliest ages of civilization. History speaks freely of one who may have been the great-great-grandfather of the present Hes (much less is known of the Shes), and while speaking of him forgets not to take his travelling artist along to sketch him. This noble ancestor is Mr. Zaccheus He, and he is in the act of performing the feat that saves his name from utter oblivion. The deed is made doubly impressive by the travelling artist sketching the same. The poet too lends his sublime aid to render the act one never to be forgotten. In the present age of the world, many parents, from some deep-seated prejudice, strive to blot out this unpretending family entirely; but little children with tearful eyes bring the Historian, the Artist, and the Poet at once to the rescue, exclaiming, "Then why does the book say,
"Zaccheus He
Did climb the tree?'"
How many readers of Harper's Young People are aware that in China, on the other side of the world, there are thousands and thousands of boys and girls that live in boats? There is a great city in China called Canton, and at this city there is a river which is so crowded with boats that it is not easy to get around among them. They are not large boats like the great steamers on American rivers, and they do not have comfortable rooms where you can sleep as well as in a bed on shore. Some of them are so small that they can only hold three or four persons, and there is no space for walking around; but these three or four must live there from day to day and from week to week, and if they ever go on shore at all, it is only for a few minutes at a time. A whole family will often be found living on a boat which we would hardly think large enough to cross in from one side of the Hudson River to the other. They cook and eat and sleep on the boat, and they manage to earn a little money by carrying passengers over the river, or doing other work. The kitchen where they do their cooking is only a little heap of coals that a man might put in his hat, and it rests on a box of sand about a foot square. When there are any passengers on board, they sit under an awning in the front part of the boat, and the children are kept in a sort of well, like a dry-goods box, near the stern, but at other times they can run or creep about the deck. The smaller children are secured by means of cords tied around their waists, so as to save them in case they fall overboard. Sometimes the cord that holds a baby is fastened to the side of the boat, and sometimes it is tied to a stick of wood that serves as a float to keep him from sinking. The latter mode is generally preferred, as the baby has more freedom, and can drag himself along the deck where he likes. It is very common to see infants crawling around in this way, and it is surprising how soon they learn to keep out of danger. A Chinese child has only to fall overboard once or twice to make up his mind to keep away from the side of the boat as much as possible.
One day a baby was creeping around the deck of one of these Canton boats, and wondering how he should amuse himself. He looked over the side, and as the sun was shining, and reflecting his face in the water, he thought he discovered a new baby that would be a nice playmate for him. His mother was in the forward part of the boat, and busy at the oars, and his father was working on a ship that lay in the harbor. So this baby, whose name was Chin-Fan, was quite alone, and could do as he pleased. He felt lonesome, and when he saw the strange child in the water, he smiled at him, and wanted to make his acquaintance. The strange baby smiled in reply; and then Chin-Fan held out his chubby little hand to lift him out of the water. Of course the other one held up a hand to meet him, but he could not reach far enough. Then Chin-Fan reached down, while the stranger reached up, and pretty soon Chin-Fan lost his balance, and tumbled into the water.
Wasn't he in a dangerous place? His mother did not know what had happened, and she kept on rowing the boat right away from where the poor little fellow was struggling and trying to keep from being drowned. An American baby would have screamed and sunk, but Chin-Fan was not American, and so he did nothing of the sort. He dropped all thoughts of the strange baby, and considered nobody but himself; he managed to get hold of the billet of wood to which his cord was fastened, and by holding on firmly he kept his head out of water. The current of the river carried him along, and very luckily it carried him to where a ship was anchored, with her great cable sloping down the stream. He struck against this cable, and as he did so, he let go of the billet, so that it went one side of the cable, while Chin-Fan went the other. Then he took hold of the cable with both his chubby hands, and next he screamed as loud as his little lungs would let him.
A sailor on the bow of the ship heard the scream, and was not long in finding that it came from the cable. Chin-Fan kept it up until he was rescued, and just about the time he was taken on board the ship he was missed by his mother. She came paddling down the river in search of him, and shouted to everybody she met that her baby was missing. The sailor held little Chin-Fan up so that she could see him, and in a very short time he was back in his place on the deck of the boat.
For a good while after that incident Chin-Fan kept at a respectful distance from the side of the boat, and he did not show any desire to make the acquaintance of strange babies in the water. His mother taught him how to swim, and he became a boatman at Canton, and afterward he was a sailor on one of the great steamers that run between San Francisco and China. He did a great many brave things in and on the water, and his mother was very proud of him; she said she always knew he would be a famous sailor, when he showed so much good sense and coolness at the time of his first plunge.
One hundred and fifty years ago a sturdy, hard-working farmer lived near the southern bank of the Potomac River, in what was then the English colony of Virginia. On the 22d day of February, 1732, a son was born in the modest farm-house, who afterward came to be the most famous, and one of the noblest, of Americans. His name was George Washington. He grew up a healthy, hardy boy, quiet in his ways, fond of study, and still more fond of out-door sport. His playmates loved him because he was fair and generous, and looked up to him as a leader, because he had a way of doing what he set out to do.
George's father died when he was only eleven years old, but his mother proved a good care-taker for him. She was a bright-minded woman, gentle but firm, and George always loved her dearly.
At the age of seventeen he began to earn his own living as a surveyor. It was no light work in those days, for the country where he had most to do was in the backwoods. Many a day he trudged through the forest from dawn to sunset, and lay down at night with nothing but a blanket between him and the stormy sky. But he was faithful and careful, and got plenty of work.
From early boyhood Washington had a strong liking for a soldier's life. He used to train his school-mates as soldiers, was an eager student of drill and tactics, expert in the use of the sword, and a skillful horseman. At that time the Indians swarmed through the forest in the back country, and were often urged on by the French (who claimed the Ohio and Mississippi valleys as their own) to attack the whites. So the colony of Virginia had to keep a good many men under arms to protect the homes and the lives of the people. When Washington was about twenty-two years old he became a Major in this little army, and devoted a great deal of time and hard work to training his men.
In 1755 the French and Indians became so troublesome that quite a large army was sent over from England to clear the borders of them. General Braddock was at their head, and he asked Washington to go with him, with the rank of Colonel, as one of his aides; that is, to be always with him, and help him with advice, or in carrying orders, and in any way he could. The gallant young officer was glad to go. The English General did not know much about fighting in the woods, and his slow and stately march toward the Ohio did not suit Washington's ideas, for he knew that nothing could be done against the French unless it was done swiftly.
When the army neared the French fort, at what is now Pittsburgh, Washington, who was on his back in an ambulance, sick with fever, insisted on going to the front, for he knew there would soon be fighting, and hard fighting, too. The fighting began before it was looked for. The British troops crossed the Monongahela River, and marched up a wooded hollow toward the French fort. As they swept up the hollow in close ranks, with gay red uniforms and gleaming arms, there suddenly blazed upon them, from unseen guns on every side, a murderous fire, before which they shrank quickly back. Startled, but not cowed, their officers rallied them again and again; but they could not see the enemies whose fire was mowing them down, and they slowly and in great disorder tried to get back across the river.
General Braddock was mortally wounded. More than half the army were killed or wounded. Colonel Washington behaved "with the greatest courage and resolution." He rode from point to point carrying orders, and seemed reckless of death. "I had four bullets through my coat," he wrote to his brother, "and two horses shot under me, yet I escaped unhurt, although death was levelling my companions on every side of me."
Fifteen years later an old Indian, who was in the fight on the French side, told him that he had fired at him many times, and ordered his young warriors to do so. None of the shots hit, and the Indians, thinking the young officer was under the special care of the Great Spirit, ceased to fire at him.
After this battle, Colonel Washington was kept in bed for four long months with a fever, which was made worse by his exposure on the battle-field. He had little more hard fighting to do, but he learned many a good lesson from the war—especially to rely on himself, and to study his own way out of any troubles that he met. His fame went, too, to the other colonies, and the young Colonel of Militia was becoming known as a man on whose courage and faithfulness and sound good sense it would do for his country to lean in time of trial.
Once upon a time Puck and his little sister Blossom lived together in a great big egg.
"It's too close in here," said Puck: "let's go and see how it looks outside." Bang! went his head, right through the wall.
Outside it was raining, so he drew back his head in a hurry; but the rain came pattering in after him. "Oh, my doodness!" moaned Blossom, "is that how it is outside? Now we shall det wet to the skin."
"Come," said Puck, "let's go find us another house; it'll be better by-and-by."
So they went, and they went, till they came to old Mother Bee, who lived with her children in the leafy house of the linden-tree.
"Oh, come in," said she; "but you must sit quite still, or else my children will sting you. As for me, I must go and gather honey."
For a little while they sat quite still. "Sister Blossom," said Puck, "it's too close in here. I must go see where they keep the honey." He was starting off that very minute, but all the Bee children flew up in such a rage, and fastened themselves upon Puck and Blossom, that they got away, they hardly knew how.
"I didn't even det a taste of their old honey, and I'm all stung up," sobbed Blossom.
"Never mind," said Puck, comfortingly, "it'll be better by-and-by."
On the meadow whom should they meet but Master Stork. "Oh, take us with you up to your nest!" cried Puck. Master Longlegs, being quite willing, quickly snatched up the children in his long bill, and set them down in his nest.
"Sit still," said he, "then you'll have plenty of room."
For a little while they sat quite still. "Sister Blossom," said Puck, "it's too close in here. I've seen young storks fly. I know how they do it; I can do it too. Come, now, you do just what I do." He spread his little arms, she spread her little arms, and—
Thump!—they lay on the ground.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
I have subscribed for Young People for a year. When I have read it, I send it to my cousins in England. We are going there in June, to stay at my grandfather's house. I shall be eight years old on the 25th of March, and I have been across the ocean six times. I will write when I am in England, and tell you about the beautiful things I shall see there. Grandma has some rabbits waiting for me. There is a pond there, with ducks, and Chinese geese, and swans, and all kinds of fowls.
John MacC.
Muskogee, Indian Territory.
I am nine years old. We live on a hill. There are many hills here just like it, and the people here call them mounds. They are shaped very queer. They rise straight up on one side. There are rocks on some, and on others trees. We have two ponies, and when we go hunting, they let me ride on one of them. When they shoot anything, I go and bring it back to the buggy.
Eva S. T.
Jefferson Barracks, Maine.
I am a poor boy. I lived with an officer here, and I was so fond of reading the daily papers and other things that his wife kindly subscribed for Young People for me, and I like it very much. I live in the woods, and I caught nineteen wild rabbits this winter in traps. I tried to tame some of them, but I could not. I wish you would tell me how to tame them.
Joseph D.
Have any of our correspondents had experience in taming wild rabbits?
Grahamville, Oklawaha River, Florida.
I am a little boy eight years old, and a subscriber to Young People. I made the money myself that paid for the subscription. I live away down in Florida, and during the winter months I sell flowers and curiosities to the Northern visitors. I have made twenty dollars this season. I don't go to school now, but my mamma and papa teach me at home. I have a handsome scroll-saw, and can make nice brackets. I had a shepherd dog, but it died. I want to take Young People till I am a grown-up man.
Turner E.
Davenport, Iowa.
I want to tell you something about myself. My papa was an American. When he was young, he went to Florence, Italy. There he met my mamma, who was an Italian lady, and married her. I was born in Florence. When I was five years old we moved to Spain. Then I learned the Spanish language. Papa taught me to speak English. We staid in Spain one year, and then moved to America, and came out here. We had not been here long when mamma—poor dear mamma!—died. Then papa went back to Italy, and left me with Aunt Esther. He died while he was there, and now I am an orphan. I am eleven years old, and I can speak and write Italian, French, Spanish, and English, and I am studying German now. I want to be an artist some day, and go back to Italy, and make my name renowned. A friend here gives me Young People, and I like it so much! Please put some nice pictures in it for me to draw.
Aurora.
Danville, Illinois.
Some little girls—my cousins Nellie and Fannie, Clara Hessey, Nellie Woods, and Kittie Short—are going to have a cooking club, and I wish some other little girls would send some receipts. My cousin Nellie sends you a letter too.
Puss H.
Here is a receipt for sugar-candy that some little girl may like to try: Two table-spoonfuls vinegar; four table-spoonfuls water; six table-spoonfuls sugar (brown is best). Boil twenty minutes, and pour into a buttered plate. I think the Spanish Dancer was very pretty.
Nellie H.
Fort Smith, Arkansas.
I am a reader of Young People. I live on the border of the Indian country, and I see plenty of Indians when they come to town to trade. I went to the United States jail not long ago, and I saw about fifty prisoners. Some of them were white, some Indians, and some negroes. They were all together. I felt so sorry for them. I am ten years old, and I go to school.
Carl C. M.
Fort Plain, New York.
My uncle has come home from India, and brought my brother and myself a beautiful bow, quiver, and arrows. The bow and arrows are made of black cocoa-nut wood, and have ivory tips. The arrows have pointed ends, and colored feathers on the head. The target is three feet high, and has an ivory heart in the middle. In the centre of the heart there is a hole. We have a club of girls and boys, and the one that shoots his arrow in the hole gets a prize. The next prize to be given is an upright writing-case. We only shoot once a week for the prize, but we can shoot other times as much as we wish. Charlie Clark got the prize a month ago. It was a pair of skates. We live in Chicago, and are going home in May. We are visiting my grandma now.
Pearl F. S.
Fort Warren, Boston.
I have a pet Newfoundland dog about three months old. I am teaching him to "fetch and carry." He is very intelligent, and learns very quickly. Every morning he waits at the door of our quarters for my papa, and when papa goes to his office he carries his papers for him. He looks so much like a young bear that we call him Oso, which is Spanish for bear. I am ten years old, and I live on an island in Boston Harbor.
Mary B. R.
Syracuse, New York.
I want to tell you about a baby bear I saw yesterday. A man had it in a store. He brought it from the North Woods. It was so gentle that mamma held it in her hands, and I took hold of its little paw. We have two canaries, named Dick and Daisy. Daisy has made her nest, and there are two pretty little blue eggs in it. If we should have any little birds by-and-by, I will write and tell you about them.
Ethel M. L. (6 years).
San Francisco, California.
I am nine years old. I found the answer to the Geographical Double Acrostic in No. 18. "Sadie," the little girl who made it, is three years older than I am, but I have studied geography the last two years, and I think I can find out any geographical puzzle she can make. Ask her to try again, please.
Maud T. K.
Munich, Germany.
I am a little girl six years old, and my name is Meta, but my sisters call me Peter. My thirteen dolls have all funny names. My rubber boy doll is Moses in the Bulrushes. My big rubber doll is Pharaoh's Daughter. I live in Germany, and am learning German. I hope next year to go back to America, and I shall be glad to see all my friends again. I have two gold-fishes, and I feed them with fish food. Papa bought me a microscope to look at bugs with. I am tired, so I will stop.
Meta F.
Salem, Massachusetts, March 25, 1880.
I wrote you last November, and told you I was lame, and confined to the house. I am in the house still, but better. I have a gentleman friend who comes to see me every other day, and last week he brought me a plant which he got in the woods, called hepatica, and it is now on my window, in bloom. It is sometimes called liverwort. [Hepatica is a Latin word, and signifies pertaining to the liver.] The willow "pussies" have been out here two weeks. As I can not go out and enjoy sports like other boys, I amuse myself by reading, and I enjoy Harper's Young People and Weekly very much. I fare pretty well for a sick boy, for I take five different periodicals.
Horace F. H.
Orange, New Jersey.
I thought some of the young readers might like to hear about our alligator. It is about nine inches long, from its tail to its nose. It came from Florida last month. We keep it in a tub. It would not eat much, but we feed it by tapping it on the nose, and putting a small piece of meat on its tongue with a stick.
J. O. U., Jun.
You would better give your alligator a piece of board to crawl up on, for it will die if compelled to remain constantly in the water.
Melrose, Massachusetts.
I found a caterpillar when I was going to school one morning last fall. When I came back, I brought it home with me. I put it under a glass globe, and fed it with milkweed leaves for about a week, and then it changed into a large brown butterfly, with black and white spots on its wings. We put it on a piece of Brazilian wood, such as naturalists use, which a lady gave me. The time to find the caterpillars is in July and August. I am trying to keep a cabinet. I found willow "pussies" last January. I put the twigs in a vase of water, and now they have leaves on them about an inch long.
Arthur L. H.
Your caterpillar must have passed some time in the chrysalis state before it became a butterfly. It is very interesting to watch the process of transformation from a caterpillar to a chrysalis, and nothing is prettier than the butterfly or moth creeping out of its cell, and expanding its wings for the first time.
Chester, New Jersey.
I like Young People very much. Although I am only eight years old, I can read it all except the hard names you call some of the animals and plants. But papa explains them to me. I have a Maltese kitty. A short time ago we moved, and I was afraid I would lose it. A lady told me to take it to the new house, and rub butter on its paws. I did so, and kitty spent hours licking off the butter. It kept it busy until it became used to its new home, and contented to stay.
Mamie B. L.
Concord, New Hampshire, March 22, 1880.
We are four children, two boys and two girls, living in rather a lonely place, and Young People gives us a great deal of pleasure. In warm weather we hunt wild flowers and go fishing. There is a brook near here, where I have caught a good many nice pickerel. My sister has found trailing arbutus buds, which have blossomed in the house.
B. M.
New Haven, Vermont.
I shall be eight years old next August. I have a cat named Pet. I have a little saw-horse and a little saw, and I saw kindling wood for Grandpa Kent.
Kent K.
Deer River, New York.
I have four brothers, and we have lots of fun. We have three lambs, seven rabbits, a pair of peacocks, and guinea-hens, geese, doves, ducks, and eleven little pigs. My brother Bert is eleven years old, and I am nine.
De Vere V.
C. V. Hess, No. 440 North Seventh Street, Philadelphia, writes that L. H. N., of Lockport, Illinois, can obtain collections of minerals by addressing him as above.
Jersey City, New Jersey.
I take your paper, and nobody is more happy than I when papa brings it home. Just as soon as my sister comes back, we are going to get up a sewing society. Do you think it is a good idea?
"Blue Light."
If you intend to devote your time to making clothes for poor little girls like Biddy O'Dolan, your sewing society is an excellent idea, and we hope you will carry it out. If you stop to look about you, there are many poor children within your reach whose lives you can make brighter and more comfortable. You can not realize the good you can do until you begin, and see the effects of your work.
Millie B. S.—The fact that you take Young People through a news agent makes no difference whatever. "Wiggles," puzzles, and other favors from our young readers all receive the same attention, and are equally welcome.
C. H. W.—Ceres, called Demeter by the Greeks, was the goddess of agriculture. She was pictured by the ancients holding a torch and sheaf of corn, a basket filled with flowers at her side, and a garland of wheat ears interwoven in her hair. Her festival fell on the 19th of April, the beginning of seed-time. There is a pretty legend that Persephone, the daughter of Ceres, was stolen by Pluto, who allowed her to leave his subterranean kingdom only during the period between spring-time and autumn, and that Ceres, enraged at the theft of her daughter, refused to bless the earth with fruits and flowers during those months when she was deprived of Persephone. The name Ceres is derived from the Sanskrit, and signifies to create. Vulcan, whose Greek name was Hephæstus, was the son of Jupiter and Juno, and the god of fire. He was lame and ugly, but was worshipped as the patron of all craftsmen who worked at the forge. He is represented by ancient artists as a powerful, bearded man clad in a workman's cap and short blouse, surrounded by smith's tools. His festival fell on the 23d of August, when the young men of Athens ran torch races in his honor. You can obtain answers to your other question by inquiring at the rooms of the Society, corner of Court and Joralemon streets, Brooklyn.
Harry Van N.—Wheeling is the capital of West Virginia. The New Hampshire Gazette, published at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, is the oldest paper in the Union which has been continued without interruption or change of name. It was established by Daniel Fowle in 1756. The Worcester Spy, still in existence, was established in 1770, and there are several other papers of equal age. The New York Commercial Advertiser is one of the oldest dailies. It was established in 1793 as the Minerva, but soon assumed its present name. The New York Evening Post first appeared in November, 1801. You will find a complete history of American newspapers in Frederic Hudson's Journalism in the United States, published by Harper & Brothers.
Willie S. W.—There are no rules by which you can train cats. They are not so easily taught as dogs and birds; still, with patience and kindness, you may accomplish your purpose.
"North Star."—Your puzzle is very neatly and correctly made; but we can not use it, as we have recently published one with the same solution. Do not be discouraged, but try again. The book you inquire for is published by Henry Holt & Co., and is a very useful little volume.
C. W. Lisk.—The dauw (Equus burchellii) is a South African quadruped, intermediate between the zebra and the quagga. It is found in numerous herds in the wide plains north of the Orange River. It is somewhat larger than the zebra, but more easily domesticated.
Willie B. A.—Read the paper on "Gold-Fish" in Young People No. 6.
The combined numerals in the following sentence form the name of a great poet, which is composed of 11 letters. A little girl sat in the garden watching some 6-2-5-8-7 frolicking on the grass. The gardener was at work with a 10-9-4-11, and he gave her a 7-5-3-10 to eat. Then a poor Italian came up the road with a 2-9-10-7, and she ran to 9-1-4 her mother if 6-9-10-3-2 might give him a piece of bread.
Polly.
Each dash represents a letter. The whole is a familiar proverb:
B—r—s—f—f—a—h—r—l—c—t—g—t—e—.
A. T.
My first is in battle, but not in fight.
My second is in darkness, but not in night.
My third is in brighten, but not in cheer.
My fourth is in antler, but not in deer.
My fifth is in knot, but not in tie.
My sixth is in near, but not in nigh.
My whole is a tropical fruit.
Effie Violet (12 years).
A vegetable. A puzzle. A gem. A buffoon. A bird. Labor. A roll of coin. An affirmation. Answer—Two branches of an important study.
C. P. T.
First, a governor. Second, to join. Third, flexible. Fourth, a girl's name. Fifth, attachments to fishing-rods.
E. M.
My first is in made, but not in done.
My second is in work, but not in fun.
My third is in knit, and also in spun.
My fourth is in take, but not in won.
My fifth is in chase, but not in run.
My sixth is in cake, but not in bun.
My seventh is in left, but not in begun.
My eighth is in mortar, but not in gun.
My whole was a noted French general.
C. W. L.
Violet.
Story of Robinson Crusoe.
Athens, Orleans, Oporto, Dover, Granada, Naples, Madrid, Paris, Basle, Berlin, Lyons.
Candy.