| A stands for America, our free, happy land, |
| And likewise Arabia, shrouded in sand; |
| While B stands for Belgium, and mighty Brazil, |
| Which such a big place on the atlas does fill. |
| For C we have China, and Corsica too, |
| Where the Emperor Napoleon from infancy grew; |
| And D is for Denmark, a brave little land, |
| Which gave birth to Andersen, charming and bland. |
| Next E stands for England, a wonderful power, |
| And also for Egypt, where Pyramids tower; |
| And F is for fertile and beautiful France, |
| The land of all chivalry, song, and romance. |
| For G we have Germany, Greenland, and Greece, |
| Whose praises the poets to sing will ne'er cease; |
| While H goes with Holland, a country most quaint, |
| Where they know how to fight, and they know how to paint. |
| For I we find India, colossal, immense. |
| And Ireland, confused by its rows and its rents. |
| While J goes with Java, and distant Japan, |
| Where for less than a penny they make you a fan. |
| Kamtchatka, I think, will do well for the K, |
| But it's awfully cold there, all travellers say; |
| While L's for Liberia, owned by the blacks, |
| Who work in the fields till the sun burns their backs. |
| M stands for Morocco and far Mozambique, |
| Where the breezes are hot on the maiden's brown cheek. |
| For N, let me see, there's Norway, I'm sure, |
| Whose peasants come here a good place to secure. |
| And O with Ohio can go very well, |
| And its future of promise no dreamer can tell. |
| We have Poland and Persia and Peru for P, |
| And big Patagonia, wild as can be, |
| While Queensland's the best I can find for the Q, |
| And is famous for swans which are coal black in hue. |
| For R there is Russia, the mighty and vast, |
| With a history stretching away to the past; |
| And S is for Sweden, and Sicily fair, |
| Where Mount Etna with lava oft darkens the air; |
| While T stands for Turkey and Tunis, you see; |
| And U is for Uruguay, plain as can be. |
| For V, Venezuela, with forests and vales, |
| Will do very well; and the W is Wales. |
| Near Japan there is Ximo, a beautiful isle, |
| Where Nature in all her green splendor doth smile; |
| While for Y Yucatan does most nicely exist, |
| And both Zealand and Zante can end the long list. |
Vol au Vent.
Warwick, New York.
I am a little girl twelve years old. I attend a very pleasant school not far from home, and have a good teacher. We read your paper at school. We take sixteen numbers for one class. I think Jimmy Brown's stories are the funniest. We read one paper through in a week; and I am so glad when the first of the week comes, so that we can have a new one. I enjoy reading the letters in your paper very much; but I have never seen one from Warwick yet, so I thought I would write one. I live on a farm not far from the village, and it is a very pleasant place. Our school yard is very large, and down at the lower end there is a creek, and there are some very large trees on the bank, and we eat our dinner there in the summer.
Carrie B.
Stockport, New York.
I send to you a queer dandelion. My little sister May picked it in our yard yesterday. There is another growing on the same plant like it. Please let me know if this is often met with; also, what you think of it.
Robbie V. R. R.
We do not often find nine dandelions on one stem, but still they are sometimes found growing in clusters like the specimen Robbie sent. The Postmistress thinks them very curious when grouped in this way, and is glad to have looked at these.
New York City.
I am a little boy eleven years old, and I live in the great city of New York. I took your paper by the advice of a friend, and love it very much indeed.
I have a great many pets—a goat, two rabbits, three canary-birds, and a Maltese kitten; but, better than all, there is my little sister Elsie, who only came four months ago.
We are soon going into the country, and I expect to have a splendid time playing in a little brook that runs through a field at the back of the house. I hope all the boys and girls who write to Our Post-office Box will have a pleasant vacation.
Willard R.
A Hindoo Bride.—No doubt the readers of Young People are pleased when they have an opportunity to look at the pretty wedding presents of a bride. A Bombay paper has lately printed an interesting description of the dowry of a young lady of Surat. She was the daughter of a native gentleman of high rank. According to custom, her outfit was sent before her to the house of the bridegroom. The long procession was led by a number of elephants, horses, and carriages. These were followed by a number of female servants, all in snow-white clothes, each bearing in her hands a covered tray. About fifty youths followed with rose-water decanters of silver on silver salvers. Then came five hundred coolies, some with magnificent bedsteads, with curtains, pillows, etc., others with swings, benches, boxes, cupboards of various designs, sofas, chairs, tables, and, in short, all the paraphernalia of a modern house. These were followed by seventy-five women, each carrying a tray of sweetmeats. One hundred men with cooking utensils brought up the rear. Some of these men carried on their heads basket-loads of lamps, wall shades, chandeliers, etc.
Hilda L.—Cloth cases, postage paid, for binding Vols. I. and II. of Young People, will be sent to your home in England, on application to Messrs. Harper & Brothers, for the sum of two shillings each.
Little Rosy Redcheek said unto a Clover,
"Flower, why were you made?
I was made for mother—
She hasn't any other;
But you were made for no one, I'm afraid."
Then the Clover softly unto Redcheek whispered,
"Pluck me ere you go."
Redcheek, little dreaming,
Pulled, and ran off screaming,
"Oh; you naughty, naughty flower, to sting me so!"
"Foolish one!" the startled bee buzzed crossly—
"Foolish not to see
That I make my honey
While the day is sunny;
That the pretty little clover lives for me."
Mrs. I. B. R.—Thanks for your kindness in sending the composition of your gifted little pupil. The Postmistress has read it with interest, and thinks it shows real talent on the part of its youthful writer, as well as a habit of attention, which proves her teacher's faithful care. It is too long to be printed in Our Post-office Box.
A Pretty Panel Picture.—A very graceful and beautiful panel picture may be painted on a common slate. Paint the background in some neutral tint, or else have one shaded in color; those from dark brown to very light are effective. Use burnt umber and white. Be very careful indeed to shade gradually and evenly. Flowers may be grouped very prettily for panel pictures. A bunch of mountain-ash berries, a cluster of wheat heads and field daisies, a few sprays of wild roses, or a dainty little handful of buttercups, with grasses and clover, are any of them appropriate for a panel. The frames may be gilded, silvered, left in the color of the wood, or painted in a contrasting tint.
We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. this week to Miss Sarah Cooper's article on the "Portuguese Man-of-War," to the account of "A Wonderful Lake," and to "Wrens and their Nests," by Eesung Eyliss. The boys will not fail to be interested in what Sherwood Ryse has to say about Base-Ball.
| I am composed of 15 letters, and am the name of a mountain in New England. |
| My 9, 3, 5 is a cabin. |
| My 6, 2, 15, 5 is often said by naughty boys. |
| My 12, 3, 4 is a weapon. |
| My 1, 10, 8, 13 is a fog. |
| My 1, 10, 15, 5 is a plant. |
| My 12, 14, 7, 13 is an animal. |
| My 11, 2, 3, 15 is a part of speech. |
Roger D.
1. A sceptre with three prongs. 2. A vegetable. 3. A pretty name for a girl. 4. Power. 5. Nothing. 6. Obscurely. 7. A box. 8. To hinder. 9. An iron bar. Primals and finals are the names of three favorites of Harper's Young People.
Chips.
| 1. Hanc rows fast down the Fox River. |
| 2. Where is Rob? In the garden, I suppose. |
| 3. It rains now; birds are at home in their nests. |
| 4. Carrie's wand was very pretty. |
| 5. Oh, pshaw, Kitty, do not be so silly! |
Josephine.
1. To scream. 2. A giant. 3. A bird. 4. A fast.
| In beer, not in malt. |
| In vinegar, not in salt. |
| In young, not in old. |
| In plait, not in fold. |
| In ligament, not in band. |
| My whole an Eastern land. |
| In forest, not in field. |
| In breastplate, not in shield. |
| In English, not in Dutch. |
| In little, not in much. |
| In inn, not in hotel. |
| In scream, not in yell. |
| In blacksmith, not in miller. |
| My whole a pointed pillar. |
Maurice E. W.
1. Because it is the beginning of June. 2. A, because it makes her hear. 3. When it cannot bear you. 4. When it is a sky-light. 5. Because both are prized for their flour (flower). 6. Because it is of little use until it is broken.
Wind-lass.
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| T | R | E | S | S | E | N | T | E | R |
Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Frank Lomas, Emil S. Hirsh, H. E. Johnston, Jun., Florence Evans, Louise Best, Amy Vanderveer, John K. Thomas, C. L. T., Rose and Lily, "I. Scycle," Amy Kahn, Edward Haines, Gertie Childs, Blanche P. Heywood, Roger Derby, Willie Jones, Mary H. Hobart, William A. Lewis, Florence Cox, and Elsie M. D.
[For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover.]
Six small maidens here you see.
Just as sweet as sweet can be;
Smiling, pouting, white, and red—
Little girls just out of bed.
When the birdies sought the nest,
Went these little ones to rest;
And they've wakened glad and gay
With the singing-birds to-day.
Would you like their names to guess?
Blanche and Dorothy and Bess,
Lottie, Lulu, Winifred:
Here they are, just out of bed.
This saying originated from the following circumstance: Will Somers, the celebrated jester to Henry VIII., happening to call at my Lord Surrey's, whom he had often, by a well-timed jest, saved from the displeasure of his royal master, and who consequently was always glad to see him, was on this occasion ushered into the aviary, where he found my lord amusing himself with his birds. Somers happened to admire the plumage of a kingfisher.
"By my lady," said Surrey, "my prince of wits, I will give it you."
Will skipped about with delight, and swore by the great Harry he was a most noble gentleman. Away went Will with his kingfisher, telling all his acquaintance whom he met that his friend Surrey had just presented him with it.
Now it so happened that my Lord Northampton, who had seen this bird the day previous, arrived at my Lord Surrey's just as Will Somers had left, with the intention of asking it of Surrey for a present to a lady friend. Great was his chagrin on finding the bird gone. Surrey, however, consoled him with saying that "he knew Somers would restore it him if he (Surrey) promised him two another day."
Away went a messenger to the prince of wits, whom he found in raptures with his bird, and to whom he delivered his lord's message. Great was Will's surprise, but he was not to be bamboozled by even the monarch himself.
"Sirrah," says he, "tell your master that I am obliged for his liberal offer of two for one, but that I prefer one bird in the hand to two in the bush."
Hence originated this oft-repeated saying.
This trick must be frequently practiced before it is produced in public. Borrow two colored silk handkerchiefs from the company, and have three dimes in your hand, but only show two, keeping the other one firmly fixed against the first joint of the second and third fingers. You must also have a fine needle and thread stuck inside the cuff of your coat.
Then take one of the handkerchiefs and put in both dimes, but pretend that only one is in the handkerchief; then put the handkerchief into a hat, leaving one corner hanging out. Now hold the third dime (which the spectators imagine is the second), and ask one of the company to lay the second handkerchief over it. You then ask him to hold the dime tight between his finger and thumb, whilst you twist up the handkerchief. While doing so, with both hands concealed under the handkerchief, you pass a few stitches under the dime, and replace the needle.
This being done, spread one corner of the handkerchief over the hand of the person who is still holding the dime, and taking hold of another corner, tell him to drop the dime when you have counted three. At the word "three" he lets go the dime, and you whisk the handkerchief into the air, when the dime appears to have vanished, but is really held in the handkerchief. You then tell the astonished individual to draw the other handkerchief out of the hat by the corner that is hanging out. The two dimes are heard to fall into the hat, and every one is persuaded that you have conjured one of the dimes out of a person's hand and sent it into the hat.
Perhaps the spectators may ask to see it again, or demand to mark the dime. In this case, vary it as follows:
Ask some one, the most incredulous of the party, for instance, to mark a dime of his own and give it to you. Take the same handkerchief, and give him the dime to hold that is already inclosed in it, as in the last trick, dropping the marked dime into the palm of your hand. Twist it up as before, and then leave it entirely in his hands. Direct him to place it on a table, and cover it with a basin or saucer. Ask him to give you a cup or tumbler, and hold it under the table beneath the place where the saucer is. Then tell him to knock three times on the saucer, and at the third knock let the marked dime fall into the tumbler. Hand the tumbler, and while he is examining the dime to see if it is the same one that he marked, take up the saucer and shake out the handkerchief that is lying under it, as in the last trick. You must then return the handkerchief, and while you pretend to be searching for the marks draw out the thread that held the dime, and drop the coin into the palm of your hand, taking care to rub between your finger and thumb the spot where the threads have been in order to eradicate the marks. This variation seldom fails to confuse the company.
You must remember to keep talking the whole time, and always try to make a joke, or otherwise to distract the attention of the audience, while you are executing the necessary changes.
[1] Begun in No. 127, Harper's Young People.