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: PROTECTING THE GRAIN FROM RATS, IN THE YEAR ONE
RABBIT.]

Master M. will now disappear, to re-appear as the Emperor. In the
year "ten rabbits," or A.D. 1502, the monarch died, and the electoral
college selected Master M. to supply his place. In the household of
each monarch there was an electoral board of four nobles, whose duty
it was, on the death of the ruler, to elect his successor from among
the sons and nephews of the crown. Having done this, and so notified
the successor, they selected four nobles to fill their own places,
and vacated their electoral chairs. Master M. when waited upon to be
notified of his election to fill his uncle's place, was very busy
sweeping down the stairs in the great temple dedicated to the god of
war!

Four years after becoming emperor, Montezuma, to appease the gods,
made a sacrifice of a young gentleman captive by transfixing him with
arrows. This, you see, was in the year "one rabbit." It is recorded
that in this year the rats overran the country so completely that
the inhabitants had to stand guard at night with blazing torches to
prevent their devouring the grain sown in the fields.

With the last picture, I take pleasure in introducing to you Master M.
in his new position as Emperor of Mexico, seated in the royal halls.

For further particulars, read "The Conquest of Mexico," by Prescott.

[Illustration: THE EMPEROR MONTEZUMA, SEATED IN THE ROYAL HALLS.]






A LONG JOURNEY.

BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.

"We sail to-day," said the captain gay,
As he stepped on board the boat that lay
So high and dry, "Come now, be spry;
We'll land, at Jerusalem by and by!"

Away they sailed, and each craft they hailed;
While down in the cabin they bailed and bailed;
For the sea was rough, and they had to luff
And tack, till the captain cried out "Enough!"

They stopped at Peru, this jolly crew,
And went to Paris and Timbuctoo;
And after a while they found the Nile,
And watched the sports of the crocodile.

They called on the Shah, and the mighty Czar,
And on all the crowned heads near and far;
Shook hands with the Cid--they really did!
And lunched on top of the pyramid!

To Afric's strand, or northern land,
They steer as the captain gives command;
And fly so fast that the slender mast
Goes quivering, shivering in the blast!

Then on to the ground with a sudden bound,
Leaps Jack--'t was a mercy he wasn't drowned!
The sail is furled, the anchor hurled,
"We've been," cry the children, "all round the world!"

By billows tossed, by tempests crossed,
Yet never a soul on board was lost!
Though the boat be a sieve, I do not grieve,
They sail on the ocean of "Make-believe."






THE LITTLE RED CANAL-BOAT.

BY M.A. EDWARDS.


The morning sun had not mounted high enough in the sky to send
his rays into Greta's room, when she was awakened by a noise. She
listened. It was the sound of a boat grating against the side of the
canal. Who could be coming to their back door so early? She sprang out
of bed, and ran quickly to the open window. A disappointment awaited
her. It was only her father's boat, which the maid-servant Charlotte
was pushing along, slowly making her way to the landing-stairs.

"Where have you been so early, Charlotte?" called out Greta.

"Are you there, youngsters?" said Charlotte, looking up at the two
bright faces at the window; for the little Amelia had been roused by
her sister's wild jump from the bed, and had also run to the window.

"Bad Charlotte, to wake us so early!" cried Amelia.

Charlotte laughed. "You wouldn't think me bad, Minchen, if you knew
all the good things I've been buying at market. Have you forgotten
your cousins are coming to-day, all the way from over the sea? I'm
sure they'll be hungry enough."

"What you got?" asked Amelia (usually called Minchen).

"Fine Beemster cheese, sweet butter, fresh salad, and plenty of fruit.
And there are lots of good things at the bottom of the basket. I'll
leave you to find out what they are." And Charlotte made the boat
fast, and carried the heavy basket into the house.

It was not necessary for Charlotte to remind these little girls of
the cousins who lived in the city of New York, in the far-off land of
America. For the last month little else had been talked of in the Van
Schaick mansion besides the expected visit of the Chester family. Mrs.
Van Schaick and Mrs. Chester were sisters, and this was but the second
visit the latter had paid her old Holland home since her marriage. On
the first visit her children were not with her; but now Mr. Chester
was coming, and the two boys. Many were the wild speculations the
girls indulged in with regard to Americans,--what they would look
like, and what they would say and do.

Great, then, was their surprise, when the travelers arrived, to find
that their aunt Chester was very like their mother in appearance and
dress. Mr. Chester did not in the least resemble their father, but he
was not unlike many other men they had seen, and he did not dress in
wild-beast skins. As for the boys, Greta poured her tale of woe into
the ears of the sympathizing Charlotte. "They are just like English
boys!" she said, contemptuously. Greta had often seen English boys,
and there was nothing uncommon about them.

This was soon forgotten, however, when Greta discovered what pleasant
companions the boys were, and that they could put the Dutch words
together almost as correctly as Greta herself. Will Chester, who had
reached the dignified age of thirteen, had felt much troubled at the
thought that he would have "only girls" to play with at Zaandam,
especially as Greta was a year younger than himself. But when the two
girls, instead of bringing forward their dolls and tea-sets with
which to entertain their visitors, produced from their treasures
two good-sized toy canal-boats, fully equipped with everything a
canal-boat needed, he admitted to himself that girls who liked to sail
boats might be good for something.

Secretly, however, he thought that a canal-boat was a poor kind of
vessel to have, and wished his cousins owned such beautiful ships as
he and Martin had; for among the last things bought before leaving
New York were two little sailing-vessels--the "America" and the
"Columbus." Mr. Chester said Holland was full of water, and these were
proper toys to take there.

The two canal-boats, being precisely alike, were distinguished from
each other only by their names. Greta's had "Wilhelmina" painted on
the side in black letters, while Minchen's had "Gouda" in red letters.
They were similar to American canal-boats in shape, and of a dark
red-brown color. Will thought them stumpy and heavy-looking; and he
did not admire the red sails with crooked gaffs, and smiled at the
blue pennants, stretched out on stiff frames that turned with the
wind. But when Greta showed him a tiny windlass on the deck, by means
of which she easily raised and lowered the mast, he came to the
conclusion that a Dutch canal-boat was not to be despised.

"I do this when we pass under bridges," she explained.

"Where are your mules for drawing your boat?"

"My boat sails!" she said, proudly. "If there is no wind, I drag it
along myself. That is the way we do in our country."

[Illustration: "CHARLOTTE WAS PUSHING THE BOAT ALONG, MAKING HER WAY
TO THE LANDING-STAIRS."]

The American vessels were now unpacked and displayed. When the girls
saw these sharp-prowed, graceful ships, with their tapering masts
and pretty sails, their eyes glistened, and they declared that never
before had they seen anything so lovely. Their, pride in their
canal-boats suffered a woful downfall. The boys proposed to try all
the vessels on the canal at the back of the house, but Greta objected.

"Mother never lets us go there to sail our boats," she said. "It is
a dirty place, and she is afraid we will fall in. But there is a
beautiful stream by the mill where we are going to-morrow, and there
we can try our boats, and see which goes the fastest."

"Let us take a walk, then," said Martin. "I want to look at this queer
place."

The Van Shaicks lived in Zaandam, and it is indeed a queer place to
American eyes. It is a large town, with but two streets, one on each
side of the Zaan River; but these two extend for a long distance, and
are crossed at frequent intervals by canals, so that Martin soon got
tired counting the little bridges the children passed over in their
walk. Will was not quite sure whether the brick-paved street was all
road-way or all sidewalk.

"I don't see any carriages," he said, after studying this matter for
some time.

"People don't ride much here," said Greta. "There are plenty of
carriages in Amsterdam."

"How do you get about, then?"

"On our feet and in boats. Look at our fine river, and there are ever
so many canals! What do we want with carriages?"

"It must be jolly going everywhere in boats," said Will. "I should
like that!"

"We have some very pretty boats," said Greta, much pleased. "Oh!
wouldn't you like to go fishing? I'll ask father to take us some day
soon. I saw a net in the market-boat this morning."

"Well, if that isn't funny!" cried Martin, with a burst of laughter.
Will joined in the laugh, and Greta looked around in vain to discover
the cause of their merriment.

"Looking-glasses on the _outside_ of the houses!" explained Martin,
pointing to one opposite. "I guess they're put there for the girls to
look in as they walk along," he added, mischievously. "They can't wait
to get home to admire themselves."

Sure enough, there was a mirror outside the window, set at such an
angle that the persons inside the house could see who was passing up
and down the street. And there was a mirror on the next house, and the
next.

"Why, they are on all the houses!" said Will.

"To be sure!" said Greta. "What is there funny in that? And the girls
don't look in them any more than the boys, Mr. Martin. Don't you ever
want to know what is going on in the street?"

"Of course I do."

"How are you going to do it without the looking-glass to tell you?"

"Use my own eyes, to be sure!"

"Whose eyes do you use when you look in a glass?" said Greta.

Martin looked puzzled, and had no reply ready; and Will thought his
cousin Greta very clever, although she was a girl, and a year younger
than himself.

But Martin soon recovered his composure.

"What lots of flowers!" was his next comment. "They are everywhere,
except in this brick pavement, and nothing could grow here, it is so
clean."

"And such pretty houses in the gardens!" said Will.

"But they are so small," said Martin, "It would take a dozen of them
to make a New York house."

"My goodness!" said Greta, turning her head back as far as she could,
and looking at the sky. "How do you ever see up to their roofs?"

"Divide Martin's twelve by four, and you will come nearer the truth,"
said Will, laughing. "But, at any rate, the houses are pretty--painted
green and yellow, with red-tiled roofs."

The next thing the boys observed was the loneliness of the streets. In
America a town of twelve thousand inhabitants would have more of an
air of bustle, they said. Will liked the quiet, "for a change," as he
expressed it, and because it made him feel, somehow, as if he owned
the place. Martin declared it to be his opinion that the people kept
out of the streets for fear that their shoes would soil them, and that
accounted for the almost spotless cleanliness everywhere.

The streets were not deserted, however; for, at intervals, there were
row-boat ferries across the river, and occasionally a man or woman
would be seen in one of these boats.

There were also a number of children, and some women, in the streets.
These apparently belonged to the poorer classes. Hats and bonnets were
scarce among them, though all the women, and many of the little girls,
had on close-fitting muslin caps. They wore short, loose sacques, and
short dress skirts, made up without trimmings. The boys were dressed
in jackets and baggy trousers. All wore clumsy wooden shoes.

The Van Schaick family followed the French fashions, as we do in
America; the difference between the two countries being that here
every one attempts to follow the prevailing style, while in Holland
this change of fashion is confined to the wealthy; the middle and
lower classes preserving the same style of costume from generation to
generation.

A good many of the children in the street were carrying painted iron
or stone buckets, with a tea-kettle on the top. After proceeding some
distance up the street, Will and Martin saw some of them coming out of
a basement door-way, still with the buckets in their hands; but clouds
of steam were issuing from the tea-kettle spouts!

"What place is that?" asked Will.

"It is the fire-woman's," said Greta.

"And who and what may she be? I have heard of water-women, sometimes
called mermaids, but never before did I hear of a fire-woman."

"She don't _live_ in fire," said Greta; "she _sells_ it. What do the
poor people in your country do in summer without a fire-woman? Come
and look in."

[Illustration: AT THE FIRE-WOMAN'S.]

By this time they had reached the place. Over the door was the sign
"_Water en vuur te koop_."[1] It was not necessary for the children to
go inside. They could see the whole apartment through the wide-open
door-way. An old woman stood by a stove, or great oven, with a pair
of tongs, taking up pieces of burning peat and dropping them into
the buckets of the children, and then filling their tea-kettles with
boiling water from great copper tanks on the stove. For this each
child paid her a Dutch cent, which is less than half of one of ours.

[Footnote 1: "Water and fire to sell."]

"I understand it," said Will, after they had stood at the door some
time, amused at the scene. "This saves poor people the expense of a
fire in the summer-time. They send here for hot water to make their
tea."

"Yes," said Greta, "and for the burning peat which cooks the potatoes
and the sausage for their supper."

"Why don't they use coal?" asked Martin. "It is ever so much better."

"No, the peat answers their purpose much better," said Will. "It burns
slowly, and gives out a good deal of heat for a long time."

"And the smell of it is so delicious," added Greta.

A little further on; the children came out on an open space, which
gave them a good view of the surrounding flat country, and of the
wind-mills that stand about Zaandam--a forest of towers. It was a
marvelous sight. Hundreds of giant arms were beating the air, as if
guarding the town from invisible enemies.

Greta was proud and pleased that her cousins were so impressed with
the great numbers of towers and the myriads of gigantic whirling
spokes.

"My father says there is nothing grander than this in all Holland,"
she said. "There are four hundred of them, and more, but you can't
see them all from here. Do you see that mill over yonder? That is my
father's, and we are going there to-morrow."

The boys could not distinguish one tower from another at that
distance.

"What kind of mill is it?" asked Will.

"A flour-mill."

"Are all these flour-mills?"

"Oh no! There are saw-mills, colza-oil mills, mustard-mills,
flax-mills, and other kinds I don't remember."

It was now nearly supper-time, and the little group returned home.

The next morning, the whole party--four grown-up people, four
youngsters, and four boats (the "Wilhelmina," the "Gouda," the
"America," and the "Columbus")--were all taken up the Zaan River in a
row-boat for about three miles, and then up a small stream to the mill
where they were to spend the day.

The first thing in order was the inspection of the mill, which was
unlike anything they had ever seen in America. The tower was of brick.
It was three stories high, over a basement. In the basement were the
stables and wagon-house; over this was the granary, and flour and meal
store; above this were the bolting-rooms, the ground wheat running
through spouts to the store-rooms below. On the next floor above were
the mill-stones, and the simple machinery that turned them. And, above
all, at the very top of the tower, was the main shaft of the great
wings outside. These wings caught the winds, and compelled them
to work the machinery with such force as to make the strong tower
tremble. There were balconies around the first and third stories of
the mill. It was quite a picturesque object standing among low trees
on a pretty, quiet stream, the banks of which were higher and more
uneven than was usual in that part of the country.

The miller lived in a small house near the mill with his wife and his
little daughter Hildegarde, the latter of whom was near Greta's age.

The boys did not take as much interest in the miller's house as their
parents took; but when they were shown into a large outer room, and
were told it was the cow-stable, they had no words with which to
express their astonishment. They would have said it was the show-room
of the place. There was not a speck on the whitewashed walls; the pine
ceiling was so clean it fairly glistened; there were crisp, white
muslin curtains at the windows. The raised earthen floor was covered
with pure white sand, arranged in fancy designs. There were some small
round tables standing about, and on them were ornaments of china and
silver, and a variety of knick-knacks.

During the summer the cows were in the pasture day and night, but in
the winter they occupied this room. Then the tables were removed, but
the place was kept very neatly. This was necessary, for the stable
adjoined the house, and the party passed into the barn through a door
in the cow-stable.

All except the two boys. Will hung back and motioned to Martin not to
go into the barn.

"I am tired of this sort of thing," he said. "Let us go and sail our
boats."

"Very well," said Martin, "I'll call the girls."

"No," said Will; "there are too many of them. They'll only be in the
way. They'll have a good time together, and we'll have some fun by
ourselves."

Martin seldom dissented from Will's decisions, so the two boys went
back into the house to get their ships, and passed out of another
door to the bridge and across the stream. They had gone but a short
distance when Martin, who had seemed very thoughtful, stopped opposite
the mill.

"There is a man in the balcony," he said. "I'll ask him to call to
the girls to come. It isn't fair to go without them. You know Greta
thought _so_ much of sailing her boat with ours."

"Nonsense," said Will. "She has got other company now. I don't believe
they know how to manage their boats, and we will have to help them.
Girls always have to be taken care of."

"But," persisted Martin, "you said that Greta was real smart and a
first-rate fellow--girl, I mean."

"She is well enough for girls' plays; but what can she know about
boats? Come along!"

Martin said no more, and the boys proceeded for some distance up the
stream.

"If we go around that bend," said Will, "we will be out of sight of
the mill, and can have our own fun."

Around the bend they found a bridge, and a little way above this the
stream widened into a large pool, the banks of which were shaded by
willows. There they launched the schooner "America" and the sloop
"Columbus" with appropriate ceremonies. The sails and the rudders were
properly set for a trip across the pool. The ships bent gracefully to
the breeze, and went steadily on their course, the little flags waving
triumphantly from the mast-heads. They moved so gracefully and behaved
so beautifully that Martin expressed his sorrow that the girls were
not there to see them. Will made no reply, but he felt a twinge of
remorse as he remembered how Greta had looked forward to this sail as
a great event. He tried to quiet his conscience with the consideration
that it was much better for her not to be there; for she would
certainly have felt mortified at the contrast between their pretty
vessels and the poor canal-boats.

The boys crossed the bridge, and were ready for the arrival of their
vessels in the foreign port. Then they started them on the return
voyage and recrossed the bridge to receive them at home.

This was done several times, but at last there was an accident. Will's
schooner, the "America," from some unknown cause, took a wrong tack
when near the middle of the pool, and going too far up, got aground
upon a tiny, grassy island. She swayed about for a minute, and the
boys hoped she would float off, but soon the masts ceased to quiver.
The "America" had quietly moored herself on the island as if she
intended to remain there forever. What was to be done? The longest
pole to be found would not reach the island from either bank, or from
the bridge, and the pool was deep. Will began to think it was a pretty
bad case.

[Illustration: THE BOYS WITH THEIR BOATS.]

"What a beauty!" "Isn't it just lovely!" "Pretty! pretty! pretty!"

These exclamations came respectively from Greta, Hildegarde, and
Minchen, and had reference to the "Columbus," which was gliding up
to the bank where the boys stood, with its sails gleaming in the
sunshine, while it dipped and courtesied on the little waves. The
girls were coming around the bend. Greta and Minchen had their
canal-boats, and Hildegarde carried a great square of gingerbread.

"That's the most beautiful thing I ever saw!" cried Greta. In her
admiration of the vessel, she had forgotten her wounded dignity. For
she had arranged with Hildegarde that, after giving the boys their
share of gingerbread, they should walk proudly and silently away.

As Greta had broken the compact by speaking, Hildegarde entered upon
an explanation: "We have been down the stream looking for you--"
But here she was interrupted by a frown from Greta, who suddenly
recollected the slight that had been put upon them.

"Naughty boys to run away!" said little Minchen. "You sha'n't see my
boat sail!"

"My ship is aground on that island," said Will, willing to change the
subject. "I have no way of getting her off. I wonder if the boat we
came in is too large to be got up here."

"The boat was taken back to Zaandam," said Hildegarde, "and our boat
is away, too."

"The 'America' will have to stay where she is, then," said Will,
trying to speak cheerfully.

"Pretty ship is lost! Too bad!" said Minchen, pityingly. Then
brightly: "I'll give you mine!-_may be_," she added in a doubtful
tone, as her glance fell lovingly upon the boat she was hugging under
her arm.

Meantime, Greta had been studying the situation. She now turned to
Will. "I can get your ship off," she said. "Take care of my boat till
I come back, and don't sail her on any account. I wont be gone long."

She handed her boat to Will, and was around the bend in an instant;
and it was not very long before the anxious group heard the sound of
her rapid footsteps returning. Will thought she had gone to the mill
to get some one to help them, but she came back alone, and all she
brought with her was a large ball of cord.

Martin and Minchen asked her twenty questions while she made her
preparations, but she would not reveal her plans, although it was
evident from the way she went to work that she had a very clear idea
of what she intended to accomplish.

In the first place, she said the whole party must go further up the
bank, so as to get above the "America," which was on the lower edge of
the little island. When they had gone far enough, she tied one end of
the cord to the rudder-post of her canal-boat. Then she turned the
cunning little windlass, and slowly up went the mast to its full
height. The next thing was to unfurl the sail, set it properly, and
set the rudder,--all of which she did deftly and correctly, making
Will feel ashamed of what he had said about the ignorance of girls.

She placed the boat on the water. The sail filled, and off went the
"Wilhelmina" with a slow, true, steady motion, her red sail glowing in
the sunshine, and her stiff little pennant standing straight out in
the wind. As the boat crossed the pool, Greta played out the cord
carefully, so as not to impede its motion. When it reached the other
side and had gently grounded on the shelving shore, Greta gave the
line into Will's hand.

"If you will hold this," she said, "I will go across the bridge."

"Don't trouble yourself to do that," said Will, "I will go over."

"No," said Greta, "I wish to go. I am captain of my own craft, and I
know how to manage my 'Wilhelmina.'"

"I had no idea she was so pretty," said Will. "She is a true, stanch
little sailer."

"She don't show off until she is on the water," said Greta, smiling,
"and then she sails like a real boat. Do you know what I am going to
do when I get to the other side?"

"I can guess. You will send your boat back to me from below the island
while I hold this end of the cord. That will bring the line around my
ship and pull her off."

"I thought of that, but it is too risky. If anything should go wrong
with my boat, the line might get tangled; or there might be too great
a strain, and the ship would come off with a jerk and be tumbled
bottom upward into the water. I intend to untie the cord from the
boat, and you and I must walk slowly down toward the 'America,'--I on
that side, and you on this. We must hold the cord low so as to catch
the mast under the sail, if we can."

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