Harper's Young People, March 30, 1880 Part 6

"I really don't know," responded one of the ladies. "What time was it when you went to sleep?"

"Sleep--sleep! I haven't been to sleep--'wake all the time."

"Indeed you have," chorussed the party; "nearly two hours, and saying all sorts of things."

[Ill.u.s.tration: WHAT TIME IS IT?]

The youth looked blank, and rather frightened, but tried to brave it out. "Oh, pshaw! two hours. Sleep!--why, I haven't been to sleep ten--that's to say, I've been awake the whole time. Now we'll see." And he arose and walked into the next room, which was rather dimly lighted, to look at the clock. He remained there a long time, shuffling about, and emitting sundry whiffs and snorts, and then rejoined the company, rubbing his eyes, and rumpling his hair all over his head, with an expression of bewilderment on his countenance which set every one present t.i.ttering.

"All right," he said. "Guess't's 'bout time to start home."

"Oh no, not yet," answered the hostess. "We are going to have some cider and doughnuts."

The cider and doughnuts were brought in and handed round, the sleepy beau receiving his last. He took a good Irish bite. A pause. Something was the matter. He pulled, he gnawed, he wrestled, he grunted, he struggled: it was no use; that doughnut was too much for him. Suddenly, with a quick motion worthy of the late lamented Mr. Grimaldi, he whipped the doughnut out of his mouth and into his pocket. He thought he was un.o.bserved, but a roar of rustic laughter from all sides of the room soon undeceived him. We will draw a veil over the scene, etc., etc., as the novels say. In a few seconds his two fair charges, in charity, proposed to go home; and they went.

Now what was this all about? I will tell you. When the young imp left the room, as before mentioned, he slipped into the back parlor, turned down the lights, and carried the clock off into the kitchen, where with some Indian ink and a brush he marked on its face half a dozen extra hands. He then replaced the clock on the mantelpiece in the parlor, and returning to the kitchen, procured two small b.a.l.l.s of cotton batting, which he soaked in some batter the cook was using for doughnuts, and these he fried till they exactly resembled the genuine article the cook had just made. He had previously let the ladies into the secret, so that when the sleepy beau went into the back parlor to look at the clock, as they took care he should, they perfectly knew the bewildered frame of mind he was in while trying to find out the time. The sister, too, while handing round the doughnuts, managed to reserve the cotton ones for the same gentleman.

The next day our hostess received a polite note from the discomfited escort, thanking her for the gift of the doughnut, which he said had been of infinite value to him, as he had given it to a neighbor's dog which kept him awake all night, and the dog had since died. So he took it good-naturedly, after all.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

THE JOLLY DOG'S PRACTICAL JOKE.

'Twas near dinner-time, and the pudding was hot, Nelly, her cheeks all aglow (The master liked icy-cold pudding), ran out, And popped the dish into the snow.

For though on that morn smiling April was born, A snow-heap that March left behind, When he hastened away, in a dark corner lay Of the garden, blown there by the wind.

Singing merrily, back to the kitchen went Nell, When a jolly dog came up the lane.

"Aha! something good!" and he stopped and he sniffed, Looked around, c.o.c.ked his ears, sniffed again.

Then, the gate being open, he boldly walked in, Going straight to the snowy spot where The dish sat a-cooling--three great gulps he gave, And a pudding no longer was there.

Down the stoop flew the maid. "I must now take it in, For I'm sure by this time it is cool."

Said the dog, running off, "Pray don't trouble yourself; _I_ have taken it in--April-fool!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]

CHATTANOOGA, TENNESSEE.

I wonder if the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE know how delightful the climate and surroundings of Chattanooga are. Near the base of Lookout Mountain, which has grown historical since the war, the views in all directions are magnificent, that from the point on the mountain being the grandest, where one can see places in seven different States. Chattanooga is an Indian word, meaning eagle's nest.

PAUL DWIGHT MOROSS.

TRAVERSE CITY, MICHIGAN.

I live in a lonesome country, but it is very beautiful in the summer. We have nice lakes and woods, and all kinds of birds.

There is a little bird which builds such a queer nest. It is like a hanging cup, and so small you scarcely notice it. There are five white eggs, with black spots on the ends, in it. The bird is blackish color, with a round white spot in the middle of each wing. There is a bird here called grosbeak. It is very handsome, and a splendid singer. You can hear its clear note in the morning above all the rest. My sister Julia found a nest, and took out a male bird. It had hardly any feathers. She brought it up on bread and milk, and it was so tame it would sit on her finger; but one morning it flew away, and never came back. Perhaps some of the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE have tamed the little yellow-birds. Julia tamed one, and it was a great pet. I have a pet dove named Philip.

He will follow me about in the woods. When he misses me, he hunts till he finds me. When we are eating dinner, if the door is open, I often hear a pat-pat on the step, and in comes Philip, nodding his head from side to side, and lights on my shoulder, for me to give him his dinner. He is now two years old. I will send you his portrait. I think Bertie Brown drew a first-rate picture.

ALLIE VOORHEES.

TRAVERSE CITY, MICHIGAN.

The first hepaticas (liverwort) that I saw this year were picked the first day of March. Has any one living in the same lat.i.tude found them earlier? The arbutus is nearly in bloom. When we were out in the woods the other day we saw a beautiful gray fox.

MABEL BATES.

COLLEGE GROVE, TENNESSEE, _March 1, 1880_.

I send you a violet, and also the earliest wild flower of this section, _Erigenia_, or "daughter of the early spring" [a species of groundsel]. We have had crocuses and daffodils ever since Christmas. I have lots of pets. We have nine cats. One is fourteen years old. And we have a shepherd dog that has a great deal of sense. I have three white hens--one top-knot, one plain, and one with pantalets. I have a chicken grave-yard, and we have funerals.

The red and blue birds, wrens, jays, and woodp.e.c.k.e.rs, staid with us all winter. I found a nest of hatched partridge eggs, and the large ends were all picked round even, and opened like box-tops.

We live in the woods, and I see many pretty things.

ANNA RUCKER.

I am twelve years old. I live on the border of a large lake in the province of New Brunswick, Canada. Though so far north, our winters are often mild and pleasant. Father says it is because we are not far from the sea. I have been ill with acute rheumatism for six months past, and the weekly visits of YOUNG PEOPLE are a great comfort and pleasure to me, as I am mostly confined to the house. I found some willow "p.u.s.s.ies" three days ago (March 4), and I send a few, to let you see what New Brunswick can do in this way.

W. SCOTT BUTLER, Jun.

BETHANY, MISSOURI.

I see so many little folks writing to you, I thought I would write too. I am eight years old, and I live where the sun goes down. I never saw a railroad in my life, and never went to school. Mamma teaches us at home. I have a cream-colored pony, and sister Grace has a pet lamb. She had to get a baby's nursing-bottle to raise the lamb with, and it is just too funny to see her feed it. It sucks away at the bottle as hard as ever it can, and wags its little tail ever so fast. We have learned nearly all we know from HARPER'S MAGAZINE and the BAZAR and WEEKLY, for papa and mamma have taken them all our lives. We could not do without the pictures. I wish you could see our stacks and heaps of the MONTHLY and the papers. When we want a good old time, we get them all out, and they are as good as new. We think there never was such a splendid paper as YOUNG PEOPLE. My sister Grace wanted to write to you too, but mamma said one nuisance was enough at a time.

NELLIE BLACKBURN.

CROOKSTON, MINNESOTA.

I borrowed HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE of one of my neighbors, and I like it so much I intend to take it as soon as I can earn money enough to pay for it. I am a cripple boy. I have no feet. One was cut off below and one above the knee, and when I move round I have to go on my hands. I want a pair of Newfoundland dogs for a team, but I can not find where I can get them. I knit a pair of mittens, and sold them to help pay for YOUNG PEOPLE, and now I am mending grain bags to earn the rest of the money. I am fond of reading, and feel lonesome without books and papers.