Harper's Round Table, September 10, 1895 Part 9

September b.u.t.terflies flew thick O'er flower-bed and clover-rick, When little Miss Penelope, Who watched them from grandfather's knee.

Said, "Grandpa, what's a b.u.t.terfly?"

And, "Where do flowers go when they die?"

For questions hard as hard can be I recommend Penelope.

But grandpa had a playful way Of dodging things too hard to say, By giving fantasies instead Of serious answers, so he said,

"Whene'er a tired old flower must die, Its soul mounts in a b.u.t.terfly; Just now a dozen snow-wings sped From out that white petunia bed;

"And if you'll search, you'll find, I'm sure, A dozen shrivelled cups or more; Each pansy folds her purple cloth, And soars aloft in velvet moth.

"So when tired sunflower doffs her cap Of yellow frills to take a nap, 'Tis but that this surrender brings Her soul's release on golden wings."

"But _is this so_? It ought to be,"

Said little Miss Penelope, "Because I'm _sure_, dear grandpa, _you_ Would only tell the thing that's _true_.

"Are all the b.u.t.terflies that fly Real angels of the flowers that die?"

Grandfather's eyes looked far away As if he scarce knew what to say.

"Dear little Blossom," stroking now The golden hair upon her brow, "I--can't--exactly--say--I--know--it, I only heard it from a poet.

"And poets' eyes see wondrous things, Great mysteries of flowers and wings.

And marvels of the earth and sea And sky, they tell us constantly.

"But we can never prove them right, Because we lack their finer sight; And they, lest we should think them wrong, Weave their strange stories into song

"So _beautiful_, so _seeming true_, So confidently stated too, That we, not knowing yes or no, Can only _hope they may be so_."

"But, grandpapa, no tale should close With _if's_ or _buts_ or _may-be-sos_, So let us play we're poets, too, And then we'll _know_ that this is true."

NEW THINGS THAT ARE OLD.

In spite of the protests of inventors, and of those who believe they have investigated everything since the deluge, that there is nothing new under the sun, the Psalmist was right when he put that thought into the colloquial language. On the a.s.syrian slabs, and on more than one old European fresco, is seen the paddle-wheel for boats, although the propeller is not in evidence. The bicycle seems to have been known in China more than two hundred years ago, and the velocipede was seen in Europe even before that. On a pane of the ancient painted gla.s.s in the old church at Stoke Pogis, England, may be seen the representation of a young fellow astride of one of these machines. He is working his way along with the air of a rider who has introduced a novelty, and is the object of the unbounded admiration of a mult.i.tude of witnesses.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PUDDING STICK]

This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.

Vacation is almost over. Indeed, for some of you school has already begun again, and I like to fancy you as taking up your studies with renewed zest and ardor.

"The rich air is sweet with the breath of September, The sumach is staining the hedges with red; Soft rests on the hill-slopes the light we remember, The glory of days which so long ago fled, When, brown-cheeked and ruddy, Blithe-hearted and free.

The summons to study We answered with glee.

Listen! oh, listen! once more to the swell Of the masterful, merry Academy bell."

This stanza describes the feelings of grown people, mothers and aunties, and grandmothers, who used to go to school, and have now arrived at the stage on the road where the mile-stones are inscribed "Remember." You have not yet come in sight of these mile-stones. Yours are still marked with "Hope," "Onward," "Courage," and similar cheery words.

If I were a girl again, and could go to school, I would be careful, at least I think I would be careful, not to lose any time. Yours is foundation-work, and it is very important that this should be, because the habits of care and diligence you are forming in your cla.s.s-rooms will help you through your whole lives. It is really less what you study than the way you study it which is the main thing to be considered now.

A girl at school cannot, of course, always be provided with every appliance for her work, but, as a rule, she ought to have her own books, her own pads, pencils, ink-eraser, crayons, drawing-paper, penknife, and whatever else she needs in order to do her work, so that she is under no necessity to borrow from her friends. What would you think of a carpenter who came to your house without tools, and had to ask the loan of some? or a doctor who forgot his prescription-book or his medicines, and had to lose time and pains until he could send around to an acquaintance and procure others, while his patient was waiting to be relieved? Have your tools, girls, and keep them in order, and, if you must sometimes lend, exact a speedy return, politely and gently, but firmly, for we must sometimes insist on our rights, and then just as firmly resolve not to borrow unless the circ.u.mstances are exceptional.

Have your own tools.

School-books should be laid aside as you leave them for other and more advanced books, neither given away nor parted with out of the family, though you may allow a younger sister or brother to use them, if you choose. By-and-by you may be glad to have your school-books to refer to, and you will find that they are as useful as much larger volumes, and easier to keep at hand; they have been prepared by learned and thoughtful experts, and have the advantage of being carefully condensed.

After your school-life is over you will very much enjoy the possession of a shelf full of text-books, once your daily companions.

Your teachers will tell you of histories, books of travel, poems, and novels which they would like you to read outside of your regular work.

Time spent in this way is very pleasant, so do not s.h.i.+rk your supplementary reading. Do not, in fact, s.h.i.+rk anything. School days are such happy days that they ought to be free from any omissions of which conscience will have a right to complain.

Your dearest friend, and the next and next dearest, are at school with you, and what pleasures you share, what ambitions, what confidences! Do not let any stupid person laugh at you for being enthusiastic about your friend; you have a beautiful time with her, and she has with you and if any one makes fun of it, she shows that she has forgotten how girls feel. Mothers never consider their daughter's friends.h.i.+ps as matters of small importance, and usually they love Marcia's and Edith's friends almost as dearly as the girls themselves do. Be sure to have friends whom you are proud to introduce to the dear mother, who is a girl's very truest friend, when all is said.

May I speak to you now about something else? All this summer I have been travelling twice a day on a suburban train. Early in the morning I have hit the beautiful mountains, and, whirling through pleasant villages and thriving towns, finally skirting lovely meadows and broad marsh-lands, I have come to this busy, bustling city of New York. In the afternoon I have gone back over the same way, leaving the city behind me, and returning to the beautiful country in the hills in time to see the lingering sunset. From day to day, through the car windows, I have had glimpses of the most beautiful flowers. This morning the meadows and swamps were gorgeous with the bloom of the marshmallow--a vivid, blus.h.i.+ng pink. I have never seen so many wild roses in my life as this summer, nor such acres of daisies in the day of them, and now the whole country is gay and glowing with our beautiful American flower, the golden-rod. My views through the car windows have been charming, but inside the car I have sometimes observed what was very much less pleasant to see. For example, on a warm afternoon a young girl will calmly take a whole seat, when she is ent.i.tled only to half of it, piling her bags and bundles on the other half, on the shady-side of the car too; then, becoming absorbed in a book, she will pay no heed to the needs of other people, who have to seat themselves in the sun. The other day a girl persisted in keeping a window open, though this was evidently to the great discomfort of an elderly gentleman, unmistakably an invalid, who was sitting quite near. Do not let us fail in small courtesies on the road of life. We shall be much happier at the end of the day if we have always been polite and kind to every one whom we have met.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Signature]

ON BOARD THE ARK.

BY ALBERT LEE.

CHAPTER VI.

None of the animals paid the slightest attention to Tommy and the ex-Pirate when they came down from their uncomfortable perch on the rafter, and strolled about the big room. The Gopher, probably emboldened by his neighbors' action, descended too, and mingled with the other beasts. But, for some reason, he managed to remain within sight of Tommy and the ex-Pirate, so that if anything bad happened to him he could have run to them for protection or a.s.sistance. Occasionally he joined them and conversed for a few moments, and then he would wander off again by himself.

"I guess they take us for a pair of animals," observed Tommy, as he glanced about at the peaceful beasts. "Some new kind," he added.

"That must be it," said the ex-Pirate, absent-mindedly; "but I wish we could find the Sheep."

"In this crowd?" exclaimed the Gopher, who came up at that moment. "Why, that's like looking for a beetle in a smoke-stack."

The three walked along for some time in silence, and they saw all sorts of queer things as they went. In a retired corner the Hippopotamus was shaving himself with a razor-backed Hog, much to the displeasure of the Hog, who kept up a perpetual snorting and grunting. Near by an old mother Pig was putting her little Pigs' tails up in curl-papers for the night. Further along the Armadillo, the Turtles, the Hedgehog, and the Porcupine, squatted on the floor together, were playing dominoes. A Leopardlike creature sat near by watching the game, looking very much disappointed and mournful.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THEY WON'T LET HIM PLAY BECAUSE HE'S A CHEETAH."]

"They won't let him play," volunteered the Gopher, "because he's a Cheetah."

All this time there was much bustle and preparation going on in the middle of the hall. The Monkey tribe, of which there must have been a hundred, were bringing up tables and stools and benches from down below somewhere, and were stretching these out the entire length of the big room. They made a banqueting board much longer than Tommy had ever seen before, and then they laid plates and mugs along the edges, enough to accommodate all. The Monkeys made first-rate waiters, and the big Gorillas bossed them around, and kept them working "just like real waiters in a restaurant," thought Tommy.