Book: St. Nicholas Magazine for Boys and Girls, Vol. 5, Nov 1877 Nov 1878

V >> Various >> St. Nicholas Magazine for Boys and Girls, Vol. 5, Nov 1877 Nov 1878



[Illustration: A BRAVE GIRL.]

[See Letter-Box.]

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ST. NICHOLAS.




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VOL. V. JUNE, 1878. No. 8.

[Copyright, 1878, by Scribner & Co.]

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A TRIUMPH.

BY CELIA THAXTER.


Little Roger up the long slope rushing
Through the rustling corn,
Showers of dewdrops from the broad leaves brushing
In the early morn,

At his sturdy little shoulder bearing
For a banner gay,
Stem of fir with one long shaving flaring
In the wind away!

Up he goes, the summer sunshine flushing
O'er him in his race,
Sweeter dawn of rosy childhood blushing
On his radiant face.

If he can but set his standard glorious
On the hill-top low,
Ere the sun climbs the clear sky victorious,
All the world aglow!

So he presses on with childish ardor,
Almost at the top!
Hasten, Roger! Does the way grow harder?
Wherefore do you stop?

From below the corn-stalks tall and slender
Comes a plaintive cry--
Turns he for an instant from the splendor
Of the crimson sky,

Wavers, then goes flying toward the hollow,
Calling loud and clear:
"Coming, Jenny! Oh, why did you follow?
Don't you cry, my dear!"

Small Janet sits weeping 'mid the daisies;
"Little sister sweet,
Must you follow Roger?" Then he raises
Baby on her feet,

Guides her tiny steps with kindness tender,
Cheerfully and gay,
All his courage and his strength would lend her
Up the uneven way,

Till they front the blazing East together;
But the sun has rolled
Up the sky in the still Summer weather,
Flooding them with gold.

All forgotten is the boy's ambition,
Low the standard lies,
Still they stand, and gaze--a sweeter vision
Ne'er met mortal eyes.

That was splendid; Roger, that was glorious,
Thus to help the weak;
Better than to plant your flag victorious
On earth's highest peak!






ONE SATURDAY.

BY SARAH WINTER KELLOGG.


It was an autumn day in the Indian summer time,--that one Saturday.
The Grammar Room class of Budville were going nutting; that is, eight
of them were going,--"our set," as they styled themselves. Besides the
eight of "our set," Bob Trotter was going along as driver, to take
care of the horses and spring wagon on arrival at the woods, while the
eight were taking care of the nutting and other fun. Bob was fourteen
and three months, but he was well-grown. Beside, he was very handy at
all kinds of work, as he ought to have been, considering that he had
been kept at work since his earliest recollection, to the detriment of
his schooling.

It had been agreed that the boys were to pay for the team, while the
girls were to furnish the lunch. In order to economize space, it was
arranged that all the contributions to the lunch should be sent on
Friday to Mrs. Hooks, Clara of that surname undertaking to pack it all
into one large basket.

It was a trifle past seven o'clock Saturday morning when Bob Trotter
drove up to Mr. Hooks's to take in Clara, she being the picnicker
nearest his starting point. He did not know that she was a put
off-er. She was just trimming a hat for the ride when Bob's wagon was
announced. She hadn't begun her breakfast, though all the rest of the
family had finished the meal, while the lunch which should have been
basketed the previous night was scattered over the house from the
parlor center-table to the wood-shed.

Clara opened a window and called to Bob that she would be ready in
a minute. Then she appealed to everybody to help her. There was a
hurly-burly, to be sure. She asked mamma to braid her hair; little
brother to bring her blue hair-ribbon from her bureau drawer; little
Lucy to bring a basket for the prospective nuts; big brother to get
the inevitable light shawl which mamma would be sure to make her take
along. She begged papa to butter some bread for her, and cut her steak
into mouthfuls to facilitate her breakfast, while the maid was put to
collecting the widely scattered lunch. Mamma put baby, whom she was
feeding, off her lap--he began to scream; little brother left his
doughnut on a chair--the cat began to eat it; little Lucy left her
doll on the floor--big brother stepped on its face, for he did not
leave his book, but tried to read as he went to get the light shawl;
papa laid down his cigar to prepare the put-offer's breakfast--it went
out; the maid dropped the broom--the wind blew the trash from the
dust-pan over the swept floor. Clara continued to trim the hat. As she
was putting in the last pin, mamma reached the tip end of the hair,
and called for the ribbon to tie the braid. "Here 'tis," said little
brother. "Mercy!" cried Clara, "he's got my new blue sash, stringing
it along through all the dust. Goose! do you think I could wear that
great long wide thing on my hair?" Little brother said "Scat!" and
rushed to the rescue of his doughnut, while Lucy came in dragging the
clothes-basket, and big brother entered with mamma's black lace shawl.

"Well, you told me to get a light one," he replied to Clara's
impatient remonstrance, while Lucy whimpered that they wouldn't have
enough nuts if the clothes-basket wasn't taken along.

However, when Bob Trotter had secured Clara Hooks, the other girls
were quickly picked up, and so were the four boys, for Bob was brisk
and so were his horses. Dick Hart was the last called for. He had been
ready since quarter past six, and with his forehandedness had worried
his friends as effectually as the put-offer had hers. When the wagon
at last appeared with its load of fun and laughter, he felt too
ill-humored to return the merry greetings.

"A pretty time to be coming around!" he grumbled, climbing to his
seat. "I've been waiting three hours."

"You houghtn't to 'ave begun to wait so hearly," said Bob, who
had some peculiarities of pronunciation derived from his English
parentage.

"It would be better for you to keep quiet," Dick retorted. "You ought
to have your wages cut, coming around here after nine o'clock. We
ought to be out to the woods this minute."

"'Taint no fault of mine that we haint," said Bob, touching up his
horses.

"Whose fault is it, if it isn't yours?" Dick asked.

Clara Hooks was blushing.

"Let the sparrer tell who killed Cock Robin," was Bob's enigmatical
reply.

"What's he talking about?" said Julius Zink.

"I dunno, and he don't either," replied Dick.

"He doesn't know that or anything else," said Sarah Ketchum.

It was not possible for Sarah to hear a dispute and not become an open
partisan.

"I know a lady when I see 'er," said Bob.

"You don't," said Dick, warmly. "You can't parse horse. I heard you
try at school once."

"I can curry him," said Bob.

"You said horse was an article."

"So he is, and a very useful harticle."

One of the girls nudged her neighbor, and in a loud whisper intimated
her opinion that Bob was getting the better of Dick. At this Dick grew
warmer and more boisterous, maintaining that the boys ought not to pay
Bob the stipulated price since they were so late in starting.

"Hif folks haint ready I can't 'elp it," said Bob.

"Who wasn't ready?" demanded Constance Faber. "You didn't wait for me,
I know."

"And you didn't wait for me or Mat Snead," added Sarah Ketchum,
"because we walked down to meet the wagon."

Clara Hooks's face had grown redder and redder during the
investigation; but if Clara _was_ a put-offer, she was not a coward or
a sneak.

"He waited for me," she now said, "but I think it's mean to tell it
wherever he goes."

"I haint told it nowheres."

"You just the same as told; you hinted."

"Wouldn't 'ave 'inted ef they hadn't kept slappin' at me," was Bob's
defense, which did not go far toward soothing the mortified Clara.

Not all of this party were pert talkers. Two were modest: Valentine
Duke and Mat Snead. These sat together, forming what the others called
the Quaker settlement, from the silence which prevailed in it. The
silence was now broken by a remark from Valentine Duke irrelevant to
any preceding.

"Nuts are plentier at Hawley's Grove than at Crow Roost," he jerked,
out, and then locked up again.

"Say we go there, then," said Kit Pott.

"Let's take the vote on it. Those in favor of Hawley's say aye."

The ayes came storming out, as though each was bound to be the first
and loudest.

"Contrary, no," continued the self-made president; and Bob Trotter
voted solidly "No!"

"We didn't ask you to vote," said Dick, returning to his quarrel.

Dick was constitutionally and habitually pugnacious, but he had such
a cordial way of forgiving everybody he injured that people couldn't
stay mad with him. Indeed, he was quite a favorite.

"I'm the other side of the 'ouse," Bob answered Dick. "You can't carry
this hidee through without my 'elp."

"We hired you to take us to the woods."

"You 'ired me and my wagin and them harticles--whoa!" (Bob's
"harticles" stopped)--"to take you to Crow Roost. You didn't 'ire me
for 'Awley's, and I haint goin' ther' without a new contract."

"What difference is it to you where we go?" Dick demanded. "You belong
to us for the day."

"Four miles further and back,--height miles makes a difference to the
harticles."

Murmurs of disapproval rendered Dick bold.

"Suppose we say you've _got_ to take us to Hawley's," he said, warmly.

"Suppose you do," said Bob, coolly.

"I'd like to know what you'd say about it," said Dick, warmly.

"Say it and I'll let you know," said Bob, coolly,--so very coolly that
Dick was cooled.

A timely prudence enforced a momentary silence. He forebore taking a
position he might not be able to hold. "Say, boys, shall we _make_ him
take us to the grove?"

Bob smiled. Val Duke smiled, too, in his unobtrusive way, and
suggested modestly, "We ought to pay extra for extra work."

"Pay him another quarter and be done with it," said Kit Pott.

Beside being good-natured, Kit didn't enjoy the stopping there in the
middle of the road.

"It's mighty easy to pay out other people's money," sneered Dick,
resenting it that Kit seemed going over to the enemy.

Kit's face was aflame. His father had refused him any money to
contribute toward the picnic expenses, and here was Dick taunting him
with it before all the girls.

"You boys teased me to come along because you didn't know where to
find the nuts," said Kit.

The girls began to nudge each other, making whimpered explanations and
commentaries, agreeing that is was mean in Dick to mind Kit, and Clara
Hooks spoke up boldly;

"I wanted Kit to come along because he's pleasant and isn't forever
quarreling."

"Oh!" Dick sneered more moderately, "we all know you like Kit Pott.
You and he had better get hitched; then, you'd be pot-hooks."

This set everybody to laughing, even Dirk's adversary, Bob Trotter.

"Pretty bright!" said Julius Zink.

"Bright, but not pretty," said Mat Snead, blushing at the sound of her
voice.

"Hurrah! Mat's waked up," said Julius.

"It's the first time she's spoken since we started," said Sarah
Ketchum.

"This isn't the first time you've spoken," Mat quietly retorted,
blushing over again.

Everybody laughed again, even Sarah Ketchum.

"Sarah always puts in her oar when there's any water," said Constance
Faber.

"I want to know how long we're to sit here, standing in the middle of
the road," said Julius.

Again everybody laughed. When grammar-school boys and girls are on
a picnic, a thing needn't be very witty or very funny to make them
laugh. From the ease with which this party exploded into laughter,
it may be perceived that in spite of the high words and the pop-gun
firing, there was no deep-seated ill-humor among them.

"To Crow Roost and be done with it!" said Dick.

"All right," assented several voices.

"Crow Roost, Bob, by the lightning express," said Dick, with
enthusiasm.

"But, as you were so particular," said Sarah to Bob, "we're going to
be, too. We aint going to give you any lunch unless you pay for it."

"Not a mouthful," said Clara.

"Not even a crumb," said Constance.

Nobody saw any dismay in Bob's face.

I don't intend to tell you about all the sayings and all the laughter
of those boys and girls on their way to Crow Roost. They wouldn't like
to have me, and you wouldn't. Bob Trotter ran over a good many grubs
and way-side stumps, and at every jolt Constance screamed, and Dick
scolded and then laughed. Mat Snead spoke three words. She and
Valentine had been sitting as though in profound meditation for some
forty minutes, when he said: "Quite a ride!"

"Very; no, quite," she answered, in confusion.

Sarah Ketchum said everything that Mat didn't say. She was Mat's
counterpart.

All grew enthusiastic as they approached the woods, and when the wagon
stopped they poured over the side in an excited way.

"What shall we do with the lunch-basket?"

"Leave it in the wagon," said Sarah Ketchum, whose counsel, Kit said,
was as free as the waters of the school pump.

Clara objected to leaving it. Bob would eat everything up. "Let's take
it along."

"Why, no," said Julius.

He was the largest of the boys, and, according to the knightly code,
he remembered the carrying of the basket would devolve upon him.

"Yes, we must carry it along," Sarah Ketchum insisted. "Bob sha'n't
have a chance at that basket if I have to carry it around on my back."

Constance, too, said, "Take it along."

"It's easy enough for you girls to insist on having the basket toted
around," said Dick, "because girls can't carry anything when there are
boys along; but suppose you were a poor little fellow like Jule."

"I wont have to climb the trees with it on my back, will I?" said
Julius. "I'll tell you," he continued, lowering his tone--Bob had
heard all the preceding remarks--"we'll hang our basket on a hickory
limb. It will be safe from hogs, and the leaves will hide it from
Bob."

This proposition was approved, and the basket was carried off a short
distance and slyly swung into a sapling. Then the eight went scurrying
through the woods, leaving Bob with the horses. Wherever they saw a
lemon-tinted tree-top against the sky or crowded into one of those
fine autumn bouquets a clump of trees can make, there rushed a squad
of boys, each with his basket, followed by a squad of girls, each with
her basket.

But in a very short time the girls were tired and the boys hungry. All
agreed to go back to the lunch. So back they hurried, the nuts rolling
about over the bottoms of the baskets. Julius had the most nuts; he
had eleven. Mat had the smallest number; she had one.

[Illustration: "'I BELIEVE SHE'S GONE DRY,' SAID KIT."]

"I hope you girls brought along lots of goodies," said Dick. "Seems to
me I never was so hungry in my life."

"I believe boys are always hungry," said Sarah Ketchum.

Val Duke was leading the party. He got along faster than the others,
because he wasn't turning around every minute to say something. He
made an electrifying announcement:

"A cow's in the basket!"

"Gee-whiz!" said Dick, rushing at the cow. "Thunder!" said Julius, and
he gathered a handful of dried leaves and hurled them at the beast.
Kit said "Ruination!" and threw his cap. Clara said "Begone!" and
flapped her handkerchief in a scaring way. Sarah Ketchum said, "Shew!
Scat!" and pitched a small tree-top. It hit Dick and Valentine.
Constance said "Wretch!" and didn't throw anything. Mat didn't say
anything and threw her hickory-nut. Val threw his basket, and hung
it on the cow's horn. She shook it off walked away a few yards, then
turned and stared at the party.

"Lunch is gone, every smitch of it!" said Kit.

"Hope it'll kill her dead!" said Sarah Ketchum.

"We'd better have left it in the wagon. Bob couldn't have eaten it
all," said Clara.

"I wish Jule had taken it along," said Dick.

"I wish Dick had taken it along," said Julius.

"But what're we going to do?" said Constance.

"We might buy something if anybody lived about here."

"There isn't any money."

"Dick might give his note, with the rest of us as indorsers," said
Julius.


"We might play tramps and beg something."

"But nobody lives around here."

"Hurrah!" said Dick, who had been prowling about among the slain.
"Here's a biscuit, and here's a half loaf of bread."

"But they're all mussed and dirty," said Sarah.

"You might pare them," Mat suggested.

"Yes, peel them like potatoes," said Julius.

"But what are these among so many? The days of miracles are past."

"What shall we do?" said one and another.

"Milk the cow," said Mat.

Boys and girls clapped their hands with enthusiasm, and cried
"Splendid!" "Capital!" etc.

"I'll milk her," said Dick. "Hand me that cup. I'm obliged to the cow
for not eating it."

The cow happened to be a gentle animal, so she did not run away at
Dick's approach, yet she seemed determined that he should not get into
milking position. She kept her broad, white-starred face toward him,
and her large, liquid eyes on his, turning, turning, turning, as he
tried over and over to approach her flanks, while the others stood
watching in mute expectancy.

"Give her some feed," said Mat.

"Feed! I shouldn't think she could bear the sight of anything more
after all that lunch," said Dick. "Beside, there isn't any feed about
here."

Somebody suggested that Bob Trotter had brought some hay and corn
for his horses. Dick proposed that Julius should go for some. Julius
proposed that Dick should go. Valentine offered to bring it, and
brought it--some corn in a basket.

"Suke! Suke, Bossy! Suke, Bossy! Suke!" Dick yelled as though the cow
had been two hundred feet off instead of ten. He held out the basket.
She came forward, sniffed at the corn, threw up her lip and took a
bite. Dick set the basket under her nose and hastened to put himself
in milking position. But that was the end of it. He could not milk a
drop.

"I can't get the hang of the thing," he said.

"Let me try," said Kit.

Dick gave way, and Kit pulled and squeezed and tugged and twisted,
while the others shouted with laughter.

"I believe she's gone dry," said Kit, very red in the face. At this
the laughers laughed anew.

"Some of you who are so good at laughing had better try."

Kit set the cup on a stump and retired.

Sarah Ketchum tried to persuade everybody else to try, but the other
boys were afraid of failure and the girls were afraid of the cow.
Sarah said if somebody would hold the animal's head so that it
couldn't hook, she'd milk--she knew she could. But nobody offered to
take the cow by the horns; so everything came to a stand-still except
Sarah's talking and the cow's eating. Then Bob Trotter came in sight,
all his pockets standing out with nuts. They called him. Sarah Ketchum
explained the situation and asked him if he could milk.

"I do the milkin' at 'ome," Bob replied.

"Wont you please milk this cow for us? We don't know how, and we want
the milk for dinner."

There came a comical look into Bob's face, but he said nothing. The
eight knew what his thoughts must be.

"We oughtn't to have said that you couldn't have any of our lunch,"
said Sarah Ketchum.

"We didn't really mean it," said Clara. "When lunch-time came we would
have given you lots of good things."

"That's so," said Dick. "Sarah told us an hour ago that she meant to
give you her snow-ball cake because she felt compuncted."

By this time Bob had approached the cow. He spoke some kind words
close to her broad ear, and gently stroked her back and flanks. Then
he set to work in the proper way, forcing the milk in streams into the
cup, the boys watching with admiration Bob's ease and expertness, Dick
wondering why he couldn't do what seemed so easy. In a few seconds the
cup was filled.

"Now, what're you going to do?" said Bob. "This wont be a taste
around."

"You might milk into our hats," said Julius.

"I've got a thimble in my pocket," said Sarah Ketchum.

"Do stop your nonsense," said Constance; "it's a very serious
question--a life and death matter. We're a company of Crusoes."

But the boys couldn't stop their nonsense immediately. Dick remarked
that if the cow had not licked out the jelly-bowl and then kicked it
to pieces it might have been utilized. Then some one remembered a
tin water-pail at the wagon. This was brought, and Bob soon had it
two-thirds filled with milk. Then the question arose as to how they
were all to be served with just that quart-cup and two spoons. They
were to take turns, two eating at a time.

"I don't want to eat with Jule," Dick said. "He eats too fast."

The young people paired off, leaving out Bob. Then they all looked at
him in a shame-faced, apologetic way.

"You needn't mind me," said Bob, interpreting their glances. "I don't
want to heat with none of you. I've got some wittals down to the
wagon."

"Why, what have you got?" said Sarah Ketchum. She felt cheap, and so
did the others.

"Some boiled heggs and some happles and some raw turnups," said Bob.

Eight mouths watered at this catalogue. Sarah Ketchum whispered:

"For a generous slice of turnip,
I'd lay me down and die."

"I don't keer for nothing but a hegg and a happle, myself," said Bob.
"May be you folks would heat the hother things. There's a good lot of
happles."

The eight protested that they could do with the milk and bread, but
urged the milk on Bob.

"No, I thank you," he said.

"He's mad at us yet," Mat whispered.

"Look here," said Sarah Ketchum to Bob, "if you don't eat some of this
milk, none of us will. We'll give it to the cow."

"No, we won't do that," Julius said: "we'll hold you and make you
drink it. If you have more apples than you wish, we'll be glad of
some; but we aren't going to take them unless you'll take your share
of the milk."

"And we'll get mad at you again," said Clara.

"I'll drink hall the milk necessary to a make-hup," said Bob.

When the lunch was eaten, Mat said she didn't think they ought to have
milked the cow. The folks would be so disappointed when they came to
milk her at night. May be a lot of poor children were depending on the
milking for their supper. Val, too, showed that his conscience was
disturbed.

"You needn't worry," said Dick. "They'll get this milk back from the
lunch she stole."

"But they couldn't help her stealing."

"And I couldn't help milking her," said Dick.

At this there was a burst of laughter. Then Mat wrote on a scrap of
paper: "This cow has been milked to save some boys and girls from
starvation. The owner can get pay for the milk by calling at Mr.
Snead's, Poplar street, Budville."

"Who'll tie it on her tail?" asked Mat.

"I will," said Val, promptly, glad to ease his conscience.

And this he did with a piece of blue ribbon from Mat Snead's hat.






MRS. PETER PIPER'S PICKLES.

BY E. MUeLLER.


[Illustration: Two crows.]

"There's nothing in that bush," said one old crow to another old crow,
as they flew slowly along the beach.

"No, nothing worth looking at," answered the other old crow, and then
they alighted on a dead tree and complained that the egg season was
over.

That was because they were fond of sandpipers' eggs, and there were
none in that bush. No eggs were there, to be sure, but there sat Mrs.
Peter Sandpiper, talking to two fine young sandpipers, just hatched.

"Nothing worth looking at!" said she, indignantly. "Well, anything but
a crow would have more sense! Nothing in this bush, indeed! Pe-tweet,
pe-tweet!"

[Illustration: "TANGLED IN THE LONG GRASS."]

And truly she might well be angry at any one snubbing those young ones
of hers. Their eyes were so bright, their legs were so slim, and their
beaks so sharp that it was delightful to see them. And they turned out
their toes so gracefully that, the first time they went to the sea to
bathe, everyone said Mrs. Peter Sandpiper had reason to be proud of
her children. But just as soon as they could run they got into all
sorts of troubles, and vexed Mrs. Sandpiper out of her wits.

[Illustration: "THEY TURNED OUT THEIR TOES SO GRACEFULLY."]

"Such a pair of young pickles I never hatched before!" said she to
Mrs. Kingfisher, who came to gossip one day.

"Well, well, my dear," said Mrs. Kingfisher, "boys will be boys;
by the time they are grown up they will be all right. Now, my dear
Pinlegs was just such--"

[Illustration: "OH, MY! HE'S GOING BACKWARDS!"]

But Mrs. Sandpiper had to fly off, to see what Pipsy Sandpiper was
doing, and keep Nipsy Sandpiper from swallowing a June beetle twice
too big for him. They were great trials. They were always eating the
wrong kind of bugs, and having indigestion and headaches. They were
forever getting their legs tangled up in long wet grass, and screaming
for Mrs. Peter Sandpiper to come help them out, and at night they
chirped in their sleep and disturbed Mrs. Sandpiper dreadfully by
kicking each other. At last she said she could stand it no longer;
they must take care of themselves. So she cried "Pe-tweet, good-by,"
and then she flew away, leaving Pipsy and Nipsy alone by the sea to
take care of themselves.

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