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: "THIS IS TWICE AS DEEP AS YOU WERE IN."]

It was quite a trouble at first, for Mamma Sandpiper had always helped
them to bugs and worms, one apiece, turn about, so all was fair. But
now Pipsy always wanted the best of everything, and Nipsy, being good
tempered, had to eat what his brother left. One day bugs were very
scarce, and both little Sandpipers were so hungry that they could have
eaten a whole starfish--if he had come out of his shelter. Suddenly
Nipsy, who was a trifle near sighted, said he saw a large beetle
coming along the beach. They ran quickly to meet it. But what in
the world was it! It had legs; oh, such legs! They were larger than
Pipsy's and Nipsy's put together. Its back was like a huge shell, and
its eyes were dreadful. The little sandpipers looked at each other in
terror.

[Illustration: "THERE, IN THE TWILIGHT, HE SAW A LONELY FIGURE
STANDING ON ONE LEG."]

But a mild little voice from the creature relieved them.

"I beg your pardon," said he. "Let me introduce myself. C. Crab, Esq.,
of Oyster Bay."

"Oh, ah! Indeed!" said Pipsy. "Glad to know you, I'm sure."

"I think I must have lost my way," said C. Crab, Esq. "Could you
oblige me by telling me if you see any boys near?"

"Any boys?" said Pipsy and Nipsy, looking at each other. "Never saw
one in my life. What do they look like? Have they many legs? Are they
fat? Are they good to eat?" asked both the hungry little sandpipers.

"They are creatures," said the crab, with a groan,--"creatures a
thousand times larger than we are. They have strings. They tie up
legs and pull. They throw stones. If you ever see a boy, run for your
life."

"Good gracious me!" cried both the little sandpipers. "How very
dreadful!"

But there were no boys in sight; so C. Crab grew sociable, and offered
to show them a place where bugs were plenty. "Just get on my back,"
said he, "and I'll have you there in no time."

So they got on his back. It was very wet and slippery, but they held
on with their toes, while C. Crab gave himself a heave and started.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Nipsy. "He's going backward!"

"He actually is!" cried Pipsy. "At this rate we'll get there day
before yesterday, wont we?"

"Surely," said Nipsy. "How very horrid of him when we are so hungry!
What a slow coach!"

"Let's jump off quick, or he'll take us clear into last week!" cried
the silly sandpipers, and then they skipped off and ran down the beach
in the opposite direction. C. Crab called to them, but it was no use,
so he went on his way. But as for the sandpipers, they went on getting
into trouble. The day was hot, and after they had run some distance,
they stepped into the water to cool off. Nipsy stepped in first, but
the water was up to his breast and it frightened him, so he stepped
out again.

"Pooh!" said Pipsy. "You're afraid, YOU are! Look at me!"

Then he jumped in, and only his head stuck out.

"This is twice as deep as you were in!" he cried, turning up his bill,
and rolling his eyes.

"You're sitting down, _you_ are!" cried Nipsy, in scorn.

"I'm not," said Pipsy.

"You are. I can see your toes all doubled up, even if the water _is_
muddy," said Nipsy, and rushed at him to punish him for bragging.

They both rolled under the water, and then out on the shore, dripping
wet and very angry with each other.

Pipsy went home to the old bush and was very miserable. He wanted
something to eat, and did not know where to find anything. Nipsy went
high up the beach, and found a lot of young hedge-crickets. But he did
not half enjoy them. They were fat and smooth, and he was hungry, but
crickets had no flavor without Pipsy to help eat them. But he was
angry at him yet.

"He must come to me," he said, sternly, to the cricket he was eating.

The cricket said nothing, being half-way down his throat, and pretty
soon Nipsy could stand his feelings no longer. Catching up the
largest, smoothest, softest cricket, he ran down to the shore as fast
as his legs could carry him. There, in the twilight, he saw a lonely
figure standing on one leg.

"Pipsy!" he cried.

"Nipsy!" cried Pipsy.

And they flew to each other.

"Here's a glorious fat cricket for you."

"Forgive me, Nipsy," said his brother.

And then they were happy.

[Illustration: Blossoms.]






UNDER THE LILACS.

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.


CHAPTER XIV.

SOMEBODY GETS LOST.


Putting all care behind them, the young folks ran down the hill, with
a very lively dog gamboling beside them, and took a delightfully
tantalizing survey of the external charms of the big tent. But people
were beginning to go in, and it was impossible to delay when they came
round to the entrance.

Ben felt that now "his foot was on his native heath," and the superb
air of indifference with which he threw down his dollar at the
ticket-office, carelessly swept up the change, and strolled into the
tent with his hands in his pockets, was so impressive that even big
Sam repressed his excitement and meekly followed their leader, as he
led them from cage to cage, doing the honors as if he owned the whole
concern. Bab held tight to the tail of his jacket, staring about her
with round eyes, and listening with little gasps of astonishment or
delight to the roaring of lions, the snarling of tigers, the chatter
of the monkeys, the groaning of camels, and the music of the very
brass band shut up in a red bin.

Five elephants were tossing their hay about in the middle of the
menagerie, and Billy's legs shook under him as he looked up at the big
beasts whose long noses and small, sagacious eyes filled him with awe.
Sam was so tickled by the droll monkeys that they left him before the
cage and went on to see the zebra, "striped just like Ma's muslin
gown," Bab declared. But the next minute she forgot all about him in
her raptures over the ponies and their tiny colts, especially one mite
of a thing who lay asleep on the hay, such a miniature copy of its
little mouse-colored mamma that one could hardly believe it was alive.

"Oh, Ben, I _must_ feel of it!--the cunning baby horse!" and down went
Bab inside the rope to pat and admire the pretty creature, while its
mother smelt suspiciously at the brown hat, and baby lazily opened one
eye to see what was going on.

"Come out of that, it isn't allowed!" commanded Ben, longing to do the
same thing, but mindful of the proprieties and his own dignity.

Bab reluctantly tore herself away to find consolation in watching the
young lions, who looked so like big puppies, and the tigers washing
their faces just as puss did.

"If I stroked 'em, wouldn't they purr?" she asked, bent on enjoying
herself, while Ben held her skirts lest she should try the experiment.

"You'd better not go to patting them, or you'll get your hands clawed
up. Tigers do purr like fun when they are happy, but these fellers
never are, and you'll only see 'em spit and snarl," said Ben, leading
the way to the humpy camels, who were peacefully chewing their cud and
longing for the desert, with a dreamy, far-away look in their mournful
eyes.

Here, leaning on the rope, and scientifically chewing a straw while he
talked, Ben played showman to his heart's content till the neigh of a
horse from the circus tent beyond reminded him of the joys to come.

"We'd better hurry along and get good seats before folks begin to
crowd. I want to sit near the curtain and see if any of Smithers's lot
are 'round."

"I aint going way off there; you can't see half so well, and that big
drum makes such a noise you can't hear yourself think," said Sam, who
had rejoined them.

So they settled in good places where they could see and hear all that
went on in the ring and still catch glimpses of white horses, bright
colors, and the glitter of helmets beyond the dingy red curtains. Ben
treated Bab to peanuts and pop-corn like an indulgent parent, and she
murmured protestations of undying gratitude with her mouth full, as
she sat blissfully between him and the congenial Billy.

Sancho, meantime, had been much excited by the familiar sights and
sounds, and now was greatly exercised in his doggish mind at the
unusual proceeding of his master; for he was sure that they ought to
be within there, putting on their costumes, ready to take their turn.
He looked anxiously at Ben, sniffed disdainfully at the strap as if to
remind him that a scarlet ribbon ought to take its place, and poked
peanut shells about with his paw as if searching for the letters with
which to spell his famous name.

"I know, old boy, I know; but it can't be done. We've quit the
business and must just look on. No larks for us this time, Sanch, so
keep quiet and behave," whispered Ben, tucking the dog away under the
seat with a sympathetic cuddle of the curly head that peeped out from
between his feet.

"He wants to go and cut up, don't he?" said Billy, "and so do you, I
guess. Wish you were going to. Wouldn't it be fun to see Ben showing
off in there?"

"I'd be afraid to have him go up on a pile of elephants and jump
through hoops like these folks," answered Bab, poring over her
pictured play-bill with unabated relish.

"Done it a hundred times, and I'd just like to show you what I can
do. They don't seem to have any boys in this lot; shouldn't wonder if
they'd take me if I asked 'em," said Ben, moving uneasily on his seat
and casting wistful glances toward the inner tent where he knew he
would feel more at home than in his present place.

[Illustration: AT THE CIRCUS.]

"I heard some men say that it's against the law to have small boys
now; it's so dangerous and not good for them, this kind of thing. If
that's so, you're done for. Ben," observed Sam, with his most grown-up
air, remembering Ben's remarks on "fat boys."

"Don't believe a word of it, and Sanch and I could go this minute and
get taken on, I'll bet. We are a valuable couple, and I could prove it
if I chose to," began Ben, getting excited and boastful.

"Oh, see, they're coming!--gold carriages and lovely horses, and flags
and elephants, and everything!" cried Bab, giving a clutch at Ben's
arm as the opening procession appeared headed by the band, tooting and
banging till their faces were as red as their uniforms.

Round and round they went till every one had seen their fill, then the
riders alone were left caracoling about the ring with feathers flying,
horses prancing, and performers looking as tired and indifferent as if
they would all like to go to sleep then and there.

"How splendid!" sighed Bab, as they went dashing out, to tumble off
almost before the horses stopped.

"That's nothing! You wait till you see the bare-back riding and the
'acrobatic exercises,'" said Ben, quoting from the play-bill, with the
air of one who knew all about the feats to come, and could never be
surprised any more.

"What are 'crowbackic exercises?'" asked Billy, thirsting for
information.

"Leaping and climbing and tumbling; you'll see--George! what a
stunning horse!" and Ben forgot everything else to feast his eyes
on the handsome creature who now came pacing in to dance, upset and
replace chairs, kneel, bow, and perform many wonderful or graceful
feats, ending with a swift gallop while the rider sat in a chair on
its back fanning himself, with his legs crossed, as comfortably as you
please.

"That, now, is something like," and Ben's eyes shone with admiration
and envy as the pair vanished, and the pink and silver acrobats came
leaping into the ring.

The boys were especially interested in this part, and well they
might be; for strength and agility are manly attributes which lads
appreciate, and these lively fellows flew about like India rubber
balls, each trying to outdo the other, till the leader of the acrobats
capped the climax by turning a double somersault over five elephants
standing side by side.

"There, sir, how's that for a jump?" asked Ben, rubbing his hands with
satisfaction as his friends clapped till their palms tingled.

"We'll rig up a spring-board and try it," said Billy, fired with
emulation.

"Where'll you get your elephants?" asked Sam, scornfully, for
gymnastics were not in his line.

"You'll do for one," retorted Ben, and Billy and Bab joined in his
laugh so heartily that a rough-looking man who sat behind them,
hearing all they said, pronounced them a "jolly set," and kept his eye
on Sancho, who now showed signs of insubordination.

"Hullo, that wasn't on the bill!" cried Ben, as a parti-colored clown
came in, followed by half a dozen dogs.

"I'm so glad; now Sancho will like it. There's a poodle that might
be his ownty donty brother--the one with the blue ribbon," said Bab,
beaming with delight as the dogs took their seats in the chairs
arranged for them.

Sancho did like it only too well, for he scrambled out from under the
seat in a great hurry to go and greet his friends, and, being sharply
checked, set up and begged so piteously that Ben found it very hard
to refuse and order him down. He subsided for a moment, but when the
black spaniel, who acted the canine clown, did something funny and was
applauded, Sancho made a dart as if bent on leaping into the ring to
outdo his rival, and Ben was forced to box his ears and put his feet
on the poor beast, fearing he would be ordered out if he made any
disturbance.

Too well trained to rebel again, Sancho lay meditating on his wrongs
till the dog act was over, carefully abstaining from any further sign
of interest in their tricks, and only giving a sidelong glance at the
two little poodles who came out of a basket to run up and down stairs
on their fore paws, dance jigs on their hind legs, and play various
pretty pranks to the great delight of all the children in the
audience. If ever a dog expressed by look and attitude, "Pooh! I could
do much better than that, and astonish you all, if I was only allowed
to," that dog was Sancho, as he curled himself up and affected to turn
his back on an unappreciative world.

"It's too bad, when he knows more than all those chaps put together.
I'd give anything if I could show him off as I used to. Folks always
liked it, and I was ever so proud of him. He's mad now because I had
to cuff him, and wont take any notice of me till I make up," said Ben,
regretfully eyeing his offended friend, but not daring to beg pardon
yet.

More riding followed, and Bab was kept in a breathless state by the
marvelous agility and skill of the gauzy lady who drove four horses at
once, leaped through hoops, over banners and bars, sprang off and on
at full speed, and seemed to enjoy it all so much it was impossible to
believe that there could be any danger or exertion in it.

Then two girls flew about on the trapeze, and walked on a tight rope,
causing Bab to feel that she had at last found her sphere, for, young
as she was, her mother often said:

"I really don't know what this child is fit for, except mischief, like
a monkey."

"I'll fix the clothes-line when I get home, and show Ma how nice it
is. Then, may be, she'll let me wear red and gold trousers, and climb
round like these girls," thought the busy little brain, much excited
by all it saw on that memorable day.

Nothing short of a pyramid of elephants with a glittering gentleman in
a turban and top boots on the summit would have made her forget this
new and charming plan. But that astonishing spectacle and the prospect
of a cage of Bengal tigers with a man among them, in imminent danger
of being eaten before her eyes, entirely absorbed her thoughts till,
just as the big animals went lumbering out, a peal of thunder caused
considerable commotion in the audience. Men on the highest seats
popped their heads through the openings in the tent-cover and reported
that a heavy shower was coming up. Anxious mothers began to collect
their flocks of children as hens do their chickens at sunset; timid
people told cheerful stories of tents blown over in gales, cages upset
and wild beasts let loose. Many left in haste, and the performers
hurried to finish as soon as possible.

"I'm going now before the crowd comes, so I can get a lift home. I see
two or three folks I know, so I'm off;" and, climbing hastily down,
Sam vanished without further ceremony.

"Better wait till the shower is over. We can go and see the animals
again, and get home all dry, just as well as not," observed Ben,
encouragingly, as Billy looked anxiously at the billowing canvas over
his head, the swaying posts before him, and heard the quick patter of
drops outside, not to mention the melancholy roar of the lion which
sounded rather awful through the sudden gloom which filled the strange
place.

"I wouldn't miss the tigers for anything. See, they are pulling in the
cart now, and the shiny man is all ready with his gun. Will he shoot
any of them, Ben?" asked Bab, nestling nearer with a little shiver of
apprehension, for the sharp crack of a rifle startled her more than
the loudest thunder-clap she ever heard.

"Bless you, no, child; it's only powder to make a noise and scare 'em.
I wouldn't like to be in his place, though; father says you can never
trust tigers as you can lions, no matter how tame they are. Sly
fellers, like cats, and when they scratch it's no joke, I tell you,"
answered Ben, with a knowing wag of the head, as the sides of the cage
rattled down, and the poor, fierce creatures were seen leaping and
snarling as if they resented this display of their captivity.

Bab curled up her feet and winked fast with excitement as she watched
the "shiny man" fondle the great cats, lie down among them, pull open
their red mouths, and make them leap over him or crouch at his feet as
he snapped the long whip. When he fired the gun and they all fell as
if dead, she with difficulty suppressed a small scream and clapped her
hands over her ears; but poor Billy never minded it a bit, for he was
pale and quaking with the fear of "heaven's artillery" thundering over
head, and as a bright flash of lightning seemed to run down the tall
tent-poles he hid his eyes and wished with all his heart that he was
safe with mother.

"'Fraid of thunder, Bill?" asked Ben, trying to speak stoutly, while a
sense of his own responsibilities began to worry him, for how was Bab
to be got home in such a pouring rain.

"It makes me sick; always did. Wish I hadn't come," sighed Billy,
feeling, all too late, that lemonade and "lozengers" were not the
fittest food for man, or a stifling tent the best place to be in on a
hot July day, especially in a thunder-storm.

"I didn't ask you to come; _you_ asked _me_; so it isn't my fault,"
said Ben, rather gruffly, as people crowded by without pausing to hear
the comic song the clown was singing in spite of the confusion.

"Oh, I'm _so_ tired," groaned Bab, getting up with a long stretch of
arms and legs.

"You'll be tireder before you get home, I guess. Nobody asked _you_ to
come, anyway;" and Ben gazed dolefully round him wishing he could see
a familiar face or find a wiser head than his own to help him out of
the scrape he was in.

"I said I wouldn't be a bother, and I wont. I'll walk right home this
minute, I aint afraid of thunder, and the rain wont hurt these old
clothes. Come along," cried Bab, bravely, bent on keeping her word,
though it looked much harder after the fun was all over than before.

"My head aches like fury. Don't I wish old Jack was here to take me
back," said Billy, following his companions in misfortune with sudden
energy, as a louder peal than before rolled overhead.

"You might as well wish for Lita and the covered wagon while you are
about it, then we could all ride," answered Ben, leading the way to
the outer tent, where many people were lingering in hopes of fair
weather.

"Why, Billy Barton, how in the world did you get here?" cried a
surprised voice, as the crook of a cane caught the boy by the collar
and jerked him face to face with a young farmer, who was pushing along
followed by his wife and two or three children.

"Oh, Uncle Eben, I'm so glad you found me! I walked over, and it's
raining, and I don't feel well. Let me go with you, can't I?" asked
Billy, casting himself and all his woes upon the strong arm that had
laid hold of him.

"Don't see what your mother was about to let you come so far alone,
and you just over scarlet fever. We are as full as ever we can be, but
we'll tuck you in somehow," said the pleasant-faced woman, bundling up
her baby, and bidding the two little lads "keep close to father."

"I didn't come alone. Sam got a ride, and can't you tuck Ben and Bab
in too? They aint very big, either of them," whispered Billy, anxious
to serve his friends now that he was provided for himself.

"Can't do it, anyway. Got to pick up mother at the corner, and that
will be all I can carry. It's lifting a little; hurry along, Lizzie,
and let us get out of this as quick as possible," said Uncle Eben,
impatiently; for going to a circus with a young family is not an easy
task, as every one knows who has ever tried it.

"Ben, I'm real sorry there isn't room for you. I'll tell Bab's mother
where she is, and may be some one will come for you," said Billy,
hurriedly, as he tore himself away, feeling rather mean to desert the
others, though he could be of no use.

"Cut away and don't mind us. I'm all right, and Bab must do the best
she can," was all Ben had time to answer before his comrade was
hustled away by the crowd pressing round the entrance with much
clashing of umbrellas and scrambling of boys and men, who rather
enjoyed the flurry.

"No use for us to get knocked about in that scrimmage. We'll wait a
minute and then go out easy. It's a regular rouser, and you'll be as
wet as a sop before we get home. Hope you'll like that?" added Ben,
looking out at the heavy rain pouring down as if it never meant to
stop.

"Don't care a bit," said Bab, swinging on one of the ropes with a
happy-go-lucky air, for her spirits were not extinguished yet, and
she was bound to enjoy this exciting holiday to the very end. "I like
circuses so much! I wish I lived here all the time, and slept in a
wagon, as you did, and had these dear little colties to play with."

"It wouldn't be fun if you didn't have any folks to take care of you,"
began Ben, thoughtfully looking about the familiar place where the men
were now feeding the animals, setting their refreshment tables, or
lounging on the hay to get such rest as they could before the evening
entertainment. Suddenly he started, gave a long look, then turned to
Bab, and thrusting Sancho's strap into her hand, said, hastily: "I see
a fellow I used to know. May be he can tell me something about father.
Don't you stir till I come back."

Then he was off like a shot, and Bab saw him run after a man with a
bucket who had been watering the zebra. Sancho tried to follow, but
was checked with an impatient:

"No, you can't go! What a plague you are, tagging around when people
don't want you."

Sancho might have answered, "So are you," but, being a gentlemanly
dog, he sat down with a resigned expression to watch the little colts,
who were now awake and seemed ready for a game of bo-peep behind their
mammas. Bab enjoyed their funny little frisks so much that she tied
the wearisome strap to a post and crept under the rope to pet the tiny
mouse-colored one who came and talked to her with baby whinneys and
confiding glances of its soft, dark eyes.

Oh, luckless Bab! why did you turn your back? Oh, too accomplished
Sancho! why did you neatly untie that knot and trot away to confer
with the disreputable bull-dog who stood in the entrance beckoning
with friendly wavings of an abbreviated tail? Oh, much afflicted Ben!
why did you delay till it was too late to save your pet from the
rough man who set his foot upon the trailing strap and led poor Sanch
quickly out of sight among the crowd.

"It _was_ Bascum, but he didn't know anything. Why, where's Sanch?"
said Ben, returning.

A breathless voice made Bab turn to see Ben looking about him with as
much alarm in his hot face as if the dog had been a two years' child.

"I tied him--he's here somewhere--with the ponies," stammered Bab, in
sudden dismay, for no sign of a dog appeared as her eyes roved wildly
to and fro.

Ben whistled, called and searched in vain, till one of the lounging
men said, lazily:

"If you are looking after the big poodle you'd better go outside; I
saw him trotting off with another dog."

Away rushed Ben, with Bab following, regardless of the rain, for both
felt that a great misfortune had befallen them. But, long before this,
Sancho had vanished, and no one minded his indignant howls as he was
driven off in a covered cart.

"If he is lost I'll never forgive you; never, never, never!" and Ben
found it impossible to resist giving Bab several hard shakes which
made her yellow braids fly up and down like pump handles.

"I'm dreadful sorry. He'll come back--you said he always did," pleaded
Bab, quite crushed by her own afflictions, and rather scared to see
Ben look so fierce, for he seldom lost his temper or was rough with
the little girls.

"If he doesn't come back, don't you speak to me for a year. Now, I'm
going home." And, feeling that words were powerless to express his
emotions, Ben walked away, looking as grim as a small boy could.

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