Harper's Young People, December 16, 1879

"How can that be?" said Photogen, rising on his elbow, but dropping his head on her lap again the moment he saw the moon – "how can it be," he repeated, "when I see your eyes there wide-awake?"

She only smiled and stroked him, for she did not understand him, and thought he did not know what he was saying.

"Was it a dream, then?" resumed Photogen, rubbing his eyes. But with that his memory came clear, and he shuddered, and cried, "Oh, horrible! horrible! to be turned all at once into a coward! – a shameful, contemptible, disgraceful coward! I am ashamed – ashamed – and so frightened! It is all so frightful!"

[to be continued.]

IN LUCK

BY MRS. ZADEL B. GUSTAFSON

Lily De Koven was in luck. Luck, you know, is a word which stands for that which comes to you without your having done anything to get it for yourself; and as she had never done anything to bring about such results, I call it the good luck of little Lily De Koven that she had been born in a lovely home, to kind parents, and was growing up with all the most pleasant things of life around her. She had a little maid to braid her pretty yellow hair, lace her dainty boots, go up stairs and down stairs, or stay in her little lady's chamber dressing and making over the dresses of Lily's family of dolls.

One day, when Lily was not very well, and was lying in bed propped up by the pillows, her maid came in with a new doll, larger and handsomer than all the others.

Lily received the new doll calmly, for if it did not suit her she knew she could have another, so she had no cause for excitement. She looked it over carefully, touched the spring which made its eyes roll, drew off one of its tiny silk shoes and stockings, passed her hand over the lace train.

"I'll keep it," said Lily; "and now you bring me the whole family."

When all her dolls, little and big – all of them had been handsome in their day, but some of them were a little the worse for wear – were laid on the bed, she put the new one, with curling yellow hair almost exactly like her own, on the pillow beside her, and took up the others one by one.

"You can throw this one away," she said at last, holding out one which had a broken arm, and was leaking sawdust at the elbow; "I don't want but twelve children, anyway."

When her maid went out, Lily looked at her new doll, touched its hair and rich costume, but there was not any wonder in it for her; there had never been a time when she had not had as pretty dolls as money could buy; so Lily sighed and fell asleep almost immediately. Now Lily's maid left the disgraced doll on a chair in the kitchen, and there Mary the cook found it. It had on a pretty muslin dress and sash, and nice embroidered underwear, just like any fashionable young lady. It was Christmas week, and Mary had bought a doll to give to her little niece on Christmas-day, and seeing at once what a treasure this costume would be, she took it off, did it up as fresh as new, and made the doll she had bought look quite like a princess in it. So the old broken-armed doll had not a rag left of its former glory. But luck sometimes comes even to dolls.

Three days later, early in the cold morning, a little girl stood ankle-deep in the new-fallen snow in front of the grand house where Lily De Koven with her twelve waxen children lived.

This little girl was Biddy O'Dolan, and Biddy O'Dolan was in luck on this cold morning.

She had on nothing that you would call clothes; she had on duds. She had no parents and no home. She had some straw in a cellar, where other children who wore duds slept at night on other bunches of straw. She was a rag-picker and an ash girl, and sometimes was very hungry, and sometimes was beaten by other poor hungry wretches, who, because they were miserable, wanted to hurt somebody – not knowing any better – and so beat Biddy O'Dolan because there was no one to interfere. In spite of all these things, Biddy was sometimes merry, which I think is wonderful.

On this cold morning, in front of the wide stone steps of Lily De Koven's home, Biddy had found an ash can, and, poking over the ashes, had found and pulled out the very broken-armed doll which Lily had ordered to be thrown away, which Mary the cook had stripped of its fine robes, and which had last of all been swept up and put in the ash barrel, and so had come to the lowest possible condition of a once rich doll. Biddy held it out, and looked straight before her for a moment, at nothing in particular, in a kind of stupefied delight; for a doll, even such a doll as this, had never been in her little cramped, purple hands before. Then suddenly she tucked it in her breast, drew her dingy sacque around it tight, caught up her rag bag, and with a scared glance at the windows of Lily's fine home, she ran down the street.

Her heart beat so that it was like a little hammer striking quick blows against the breast of the doll. Biddy had never had anything to love, and from the moment she had got this doll hidden in her bosom she loved it, and I think she was in good luck to have found something which could bring her this dear feeling. And as for the doll, in its proudest days it had never been loved, and now, when forlorn and cast out, it had found a warm heart, and had come, if it could only have known it, into the best luck of its whole life.

I should like to tell you the whole story of Biddy O'Dolan – of what she did for the doll, and what the doll did for her; but to-day I want to call your attention to something else, and if you will heed my wish, I will heed yours, and soon tell you the rest of Biddy's story.

The good things that come to us have a way – which you will notice if you are observant – of seeming to connect themselves together in a circle of sweet thoughts and hopes, just as our friends might join hands and make a ring around us.

It was so with Biddy that day. As she ran on with her doll she was constantly thinking of something which she had hardly thought of since it had happened two years before. It was this: Biddy had been run over by a horse and cart, and carried, much hurt, to one of the New York hospitals for children. There she had been tenderly cared for, which was a great mystery to Biddy, and on Christmas morning she had waked up to find beautiful fresh Christmas greens on the wall at the foot of her little cot and around the window, and a lady standing in this window, while a little girl held out to Biddy a bunch of flowers that smelled as sweet as a whole summer garden.

Biddy had not understood the meaning of these things; she had only wearily noticed that the little girl was pretty, and not at all like her, and that the flowers and greens were "jolly." That day, when she fled with her doll, she thought of the hospital; and though she did not understand any better than before why there should be such great difference in the lives of little children, she for the first time felt that the lady and her little girl had been kind, had been sorry for her. So you see that even after so long a time as a whole year, a little seed of kindness may sprout in the heart; and don't you think, dear children of New York, you who have every day the good luck of health, happy homes, and pleasant things, that it would be delightful to bring just one taste of such luck to the little ones in the New York hospitals? Would you not like to blessedly surprise them on next Christmas morning? You know the best hospital in the world can not be like home with father and mother in it. But if you want to make the hospitals seem almost like home to the little children for a whole happy day, you can not begin too soon to look over all your little treasures, and choose all you can part with. You all have cast-off toys, story-books that have been read through, and boxes full of odds and ends, and it takes very little to brighten the face of a poor sick child lying alone in a hospital cot. A single pretty picture-card will do it. Then, too, you can save your pennies and dimes, so that before Christmas comes you can go into the stores and buy some of the books and playthings that children like best; and all of you who can must tie on your warm hoods and scamper away into the woods after the lovely prince's-pine and scarlet berries. All the pretty things you can gather to make bright the place where these other children stay will make your own Christmas one of the merriest you ever knew, for when you are pulling out the "goodies" from your plump bunchy stockings at home, you will like to think of so many other little eyes and hands and hearts brimful of the Christmas happiness which you have made.

Our young correspondents ask us for so many things that it would be impossible to gratify them all at once. Their requests are carefully filed, however, and will not be forgotten.

Hattie V., Cincinnati, writes:

I have a little brother eight years old, who has a great wish to learn to play the violin. The other night he said to papa, "I wish I was a king." "Why?" asked papa. "Because a king has so much money, I would choose a man who had plenty of sense to rule, while I played the fiddle." Papa gets Harper's Young People for him, and is going to have it bound.

Minnie B., of Wisconsin, says:

I am a constant reader of Young People, especially the "Post-Office." I think that game called "Wiggles" is splendid fun, for I like to draw.

The following is from Lilian, of Louisville:

My papa gets Harper's Young People for us, and we like it very much. My mamma longed for something nice for us to read, and she thinks this is the very thing. She says it is healthful reading for her three little girls, and she is as glad to welcome it for us as the Bazar for herself.

Answers to "Inquisitive Jim" are received from Charles W. L., and F. B. Hesse (both aged eleven years), who give correct information concerning the establishment of the Bank of England, and from C. W. Gibbons, who writes a full description of this celebrated institution, which we are compelled to condense: The Bank of England was first suggested by William Paterson, a London merchant, and was incorporated under its present name in 1694, during the reign of William and Mary. The business of the bank was conducted at Grocers' Hall until 1732, when the house and garden of Sir John Houblon, its first governor, were purchased as a site for the present building, which, although not imposing as a whole, contains some handsome architecture based on ancient models. The principal entrance of the bank is on Threadneedle Street, but why it is irreverently called "the Old Lady" I do not know. Can any one tell me?

Edwin K. – "General" is the highest rank in the United States army. It was created in July, 1866, and bestowed upon General Grant, who had for two years previous held the position of Lieutenant-General. When General Grant resigned his position on being elected President of the United States, Sherman became General, and Sheridan Lieutenant-General.

"School-Boy." – Cape Trafalgar derives its name from Taral-al-ghar– signifying "promontory of the cave" – the appellation given it by the ancient Moors.

Robert N. – You will find the information you desire in the "Post-Office" of our sixth number.

Harry L. G. – "American Club Skates" are the most popular at present among boys, as they require neither straps nor heel plate, and fit very firmly to the foot.

Dorsey Coate. – The directions for keeping gold-fish, given in Harper's Young People, No. 6, will apply to your "common fish."

Ralph. – General George Washington was born in a modest mansion near the Potomac, half way between Pope's and Bridge's creeks, Westmoreland County, Virginia. Of this mansion nothing now remains but a few scattered ruins. It was destroyed by fire while Washington was still very young, and his father removed to a country residence in Stafford County, near Fredericksburg.

Frankie H. – We would very gladly help you and your sister "to be industrious," but have not room enough in the "Post-Office" to describe many things. We refer your sister to directions for pretty needle-work in Young People, Nos. 2 and 5, also to suggestions for Lulu W., in this column. You will say those are all for girls. Now boys can make many pretty things with a scroll saw, such as frames, brackets, and boxes, all suitable for Christmas.

Lulu W. can arrange her cards of pressed seaweed prettily by taking two good-sized scallop shells, and fastening the shells and cards together with a bow of ribbon at the back. By using blank cards a pretty autograph album may be also made. It is easy to drill holes in the shells through which to pass the ribbon, and they may be ornamented with paintings or pictures pasted on.

    A. P.

Postage-stamp Case for Lulu W. Take a piece of perforated card-board about two inches and a half square, work an initial or any little figure on one side, on the other side "Stamps" in small letters. Line the pieces with bright-colored silk, and bind three sides together with ribbon. It can be made more ornamental by putting tiny bows at the corners.

    L. B.

H. W. and Amelia F. – Your suggestions to Susie H. C. are good, but not new enough to print. Thanks for your pleasant letters.

We acknowledge the receipt of a prettily written letter from Robert S., St. Johns, Michigan, and answers to puzzles from Gussie L., Robert N., Grace A. McG., William C. R., Heywood C., F. B. Hesse, Addie A. B., C. M. J., Edwin Van R., Joseph S. G., Martha W. D., Bertie McJ., Charles E. L., and C. F. D.

THE SNOW-FLOWER

In California, the land of wonders, is found a wonderful plant. The traveller who is exploring the Yosemite region in June will find lingering patches of snow and ice amongst the cliffs, and there he may be fortunate enough to see this astonishing production rising fresh and superb beside its icy bed. It springs from the edges of the snow-banks, growing ten or fifteen inches high, and is called in common phrase the "snow-flower," from its location, not its coloring, for it is blood-red, of the richest crimson carmine, buds, flowers, stems, leaves, and sheathing bulb all of the same ensanguined hue. The flowers are thickish, something like the pyrola, and its manner of growth resembles the hyacinth, with bell-shaped flowers clustering along the upper part of the stem, and erect, pointed leaves. This plant is mentioned by Mr. Brace in his book on California, and specimens have been sent to the North, but they are generally in very poor condition when they arrive.

As the years slip by, no doubt many of the now quite youthful readers of this paper will find themselves sauntering among the snow-crowned cliffs of the Yosemite, and to them, perhaps, the crimson banner of the snow-flower will be unfurled. They may then like to remember that its botanical name is Sarcodes sanguinea.

SPOON-FACES

When they're bright and shining
Like the summer moons,
Two queer faces look at you
From the silver spoons.
One is very long, and one