| OCR Text |
Show I OUR BOYS AND GIRLS FOR THE LITTLE ONES. Do you love me, little children? O. sweet blossoms that are curled (Life's tender morning glorl&s)" 'Round the casement of the world! Do your hearts climb up toward me, As my own he-art bends to you. In the beauty of your dawning And the brightness of your dew? Whan the fragrance of your faces And the rhythm of your feet. And the incense of your voices Transform tho sullen street: Do you see my soul move softly Forever where you move, With an eye of benediction And a guardian hand of love? O. my darling! I am with you. In your trouble, in your play. In your sobbing, in your surging. In your dark, and in your clay; In the chambers where you nestle, In the hovels where yon lie. In tho sunlight where you blossom, And the darkness where you die. Not a blessing broods above you. But It lilts nie from the ground; Not a thistle-bark doth s:inff you, But I suffer from the wound: And a chord within me' trembles To your brightest touch or tone. And I famish, wben you hunerer, And I shiver when you moan. Can you tell me. little children. Why it is I love you so? Why I'm weary with the burthen9 Of my sad and weary woe?-O. woe?-O. the myrtle and the aloes Spring- blithely from one tree? Yet I love you. O my darlings. Have you any Mowers for mc? I have trodden all the ypaecs Of my solemn years alone. And have never felt the cooing Of a babe's breath near my own. But with more than father passion. And with more than mother pain, I have loved you. little children, Do you love me back again? ROBINSON CEUSOE. There is no literary success greater from the publisher's point of view than that attending a first-class boy's book. Youth is an enthusiastic patron, and when it gives its approbation does so without reserve. "Robinson Crusoe" and "Treasure Island" are both boys' books. Double-day & McClure have made a strong bid for the attention of Young America in a story of the far west, i written by Russell Doubleday. This volume is entitled "From Cattle Ranch to College," and relates the adventures of a boy who was born at Bismarck at a time when that town was merely a frontier station and was compelled to fight for its existence with the marauding maraud-ing Sioux. John Worth, the hero, is a boy of 12 years of age at the time the story opens, some twenty-five years ago. The town of Bismarck in those days was merely a collection of rude houses, more or less strongly built of logs and dried mud, and straggling alon? a single street. A town of considerable con-siderable size had been mapped out and many streets with high-sounding namew projected. But only the main street was laid out. Fort Abraham Lincoln, situated directly across the river (the Missouri) was supposed to j afford protection to the settlers against the Indians, but the hardy frontiers men were generally able to take care of themselves. Those of the citizens who remained the year around were the saloonkeepers, the horseshoers. the stablekeepers. These occupied the more pretentious houses, but the remainder of the population, who came and went, inhabited mere shanties. Around the outskirts of the town were always a number of freight outfits. Cumbrous wagons were drawn up in a half circle, harnesses lying in a seemingly hop?less tangle on the wa.gon tongues, greasy men sleeping in tents or canvas lean-tos, lean-tos, or sittinng about the camp fire. Brought up amid such surroundings, it is small wonder that John Worth should have been a precocious ard self-reliant self-reliant frontiersman at the age of 12. The story begins with an Indian attack. at-tack. John and his brother Ben, 10 years of age, figure in the defense. The two boys catch and saddle the horses for the hurried flight of Mr. Worth's family to a place of safety, and later on, when the Indians are momentarily I expected, Johnny dashes out on his famous horse "Baldy" and saves a herd of horses that have been stampeded. The whites make their defense from behind a barricade of wagons. The attacks at-tacks from the redskins, as well as many other incidents in this book are told by one who must surely have been an eye-witness of the scenes he describes. de-scribes. First, two painted and be-feathered be-feathered savages appeared and rode full tilt along the hillside in direct view of the camp, calling and waving their blankets in derision. ' "Keep steady, there," called McKen-zie, McKen-zie, the sheriff, as several rifles were raised, "There's no use shooting now; they're only trying to draw our fire and find out how strong we are. There'll be more presently. Wait for them." A few moments later a dozen braves t repeated the ruse. The flying figures, almost naked," being . poor targets, the fire of the little garrison was still reserved. re-served. A dozen then made the run, one following the other at regular intervals. in-tervals. More and more of the painted, yelling gesticulating savages followed, dashing along the slope in single file and disappearing over the ridge, until what was a short line became a procession. pro-cession. Presently they began to creep down the hill, each rider advancing before be-fore the one preceding him, all yelling epithets of contempt as they came nearer the silent garrison. This was the regular mode of Indian attack. A desultory firing began. Each Indian, letting go his reins, fired his rifle as best he could as he rushed past. The rushing line came closer and closer, the colons of the war paint and fluttering feath3rs could now be plainly seen. Each Indian had worked himself into a frenzy. As the distance was lessened the savages' aim became better, and several bullets struck the barricade. At last Mackenzie, who showed signs of suppressed eagerness, said, just loud enough to be heard: "Boys, don't shoot when your man is I opposite; wait till he is past, then aim at h-iu bnelr and shoot S.traie-ht. Von j can't hit him otherwise. Ready, now. fire!" The Indians rode by at full j I speed, their bodies hugging their horsei: j closely. They made difficult targets, so ! the first, few shots did nothing more! than kill and disable a horse or two. but soon the fire became more rapid and accurate. A big buck was seen to fall out of his saddle, another was thrown violently from a wounded horse, several sev-eral were hit in arms and legs. The yelling diminished and the line mQved further up the slope. Shortly after this occurrence Custer and his band were wiped out by the Indians at the Little Big Horn. This affair threw the whole country into a spasm of fear. All enterprises were checked, all peaceful journeys postponed, post-poned, but the following autumn the Worth family carried out their plan cf "pulling up stakes" and leaving- Bismarck. Bis-marck. The house'hold goods were packed into great lumberir.gr prairie : wagons, canvas-topped and wide of beam; the little log-built house was left intact, its rough, heavy door swinging open. The whole outfit' was ferried over the river and then struck out across the open prairie.. It made quite a procession, the light wagon in front, drawn by two horses driven by the father, then a long string cf prairie schooners drawn bv mule teams. The cooking utensils hanging- under the vehicles ve-hicles hanged and clattered, the wheels creaked, the teamsters' . long whips, which took two hands to wieid, cracked and snapped. The procession was ac companied by two men, who took ca roof ro-of the livestock. These were known as "mule wranglers.". The family pass-.i the winter in a . dugout, which JI--;; described as a "hole in the ground.'' and John a? a "tunnel with a pon-h t . it." They were visitad on their rir-r night by a big gray prairie wolf. Th-boys Th-boys had many experiences during their residence in the dugout. It in this neighborhood that they captur.-i enough beavers to e-nable them, to buy their first repeating rifle with the pi..-ceds. pi..-ceds. from the sale of the pelts. it ,vas here, too, that they shot their fn .i antelope. In the epring they migrat.-d again, and settled down at last on a rolling knoll covered with trees- on th- banks cf the Yellowstone. Of coins.-John coins.-John takes part in a buffalo hunt. H -also enters his old horse Baldy in an f Indian horse race and wins. Juhv.'a first profitable employment was on- , nected with carrying the mails on th : same horse. He left the neighborly,. I as the result of a fight with a liui- Irishman by the name of Oast'j". Cac -whipped him. and the fear of ridi, tii-- caused him to' set out for Helena, wit'.i $10 in his pocket. One of the very be-, things in the book is a graphic desK-rir tion of stealing a ride on a railroad. A tramp, journeying from S'an Francis, , to Chicago, befriend. John and show .-4 him how to ride on the brake beam. A peculiar sensation came over t'.ie boy half fear, half exhilaration. Th-whirring- wheels clacked and thumped the rail Joints, the ties Mew underne-.tt ii dizzily, the dust rose like a fog. and the wind of the train rattled the small stones of the roadbed together: t he-heavy he-heavy car swayed above him dangerously danger-ously near, and John, half choked an 1 wholly terrified, wondered if he wmiM ccrn.e out of this irresistible' whirlwind of a thing alive. For a time he could do nothing but hang on like grim death. He was half unconscious; tin- ; noise was so great, the dust & thi, k ' and the motion so alt. wither terrifying, that he was nearly stupefied. After a while, however, he ' noticed that th--dreadful racket did not increase, th it ; the clicking of the wheels ever the rail ' t joints had become regular, and thit I all the sounds had a sort of humming rhythm. His nerves qu'eted down somewhat. John becomes a broncho buster ant cow puncher. An intellectual awakening awaken-ing finally takes place in his mind, an I he goes to school, supporting himsei' by peddling newspapers and doing odd jobs-. He makes the rounds on an old rickety bicycle, with whitiu he wins first prize in a free-for-all race, gaining thereby a brand new wheel. He graduated with hon'-r at the academy in. Helena, and ,v set out for the east on hia new wheel with the intention of entering college. Alter describing briefly his 1.200-mp-.; bicycle ride, the author leaves him in the parlor of a rich man who had promised to befriend him. The volume is copiously illustrated with drawing; and reproductions of photographs. Tho V marginal illustrations are by Jeaneito? MacDonald. and a few drawing have been contributed by Krneft Set o it Thompson. This- book, besides bein wholesome and fascinating reading foe the young, has the men't of being a truthful picture of life on the plain.-? twenty-five or thirty years ago. Boys cannot do better than to inform them- I selves of the hardships of the pioneers 1 of our great and splendid civilization. Among those pioneers were boys and, girls as well as men and women. The Bad Son. There is one thing in this world wor?;j than a bad son, but he is an affliction, that makes the heart quiver with poin. The love that was- lavished or him m infancy, the care that was taken of him in childhood, the hopes that were built on him in boyhood, the comfort that was expected from him in adolescence adoles-cence all these add to the woe of his worthle-sness. He is the shame cf the family. The bad son usually begins to go down shortly aftr he is sent out t work. The possession of pocket money urges him to find out where to spend it. He visits saloons, cheap theatres and ether re-sorts. He learns to stay out late at night. He forms friendships with vicious companions. As he grows a little older, nature stirs within hir.t and he commences to flirt. The restraints re-straints of religion grow irksome. Confession Con-fession becomes repugnant. Holy Communion Com-munion has no longer a charm. He? loses his innocence and to evil he pays: "Be thou my good!" In the five yeara from his fifteenth to his twentieth birthday, he takes all lthe degrees of degradation he drinks, he swears, he-gambles, he-gambles, he talks o-bscenely, he thinik.- impure thoughts, he consorts with the-vile, the-vile, he seeks carnal gratifications. If his mother chides him. he shuts her up wilh insolence and profanity. If his father rebukes him. he responds with sullenness or defiance. "I take , care of myself!" he mutters, knowing that he has1 the ability to earn some wages, but unmindful that he owes that ability to the training- offered to him by his parents. Eventually home be comes disagreeable to him, he either visits ij only to eat and sleep, or he forsakes for-sakes it altogether. All the while he is going down further and further. Ths prayers that he first lisped at his mother's moth-er's knees are no longer said: the sweet affections of family life are despised: the principles of virtue are derided; tho-duties tho-duties of religion are ignored: the glory of self-mastery is scorned: and a free? rein is given to passion, sensuality and debauchery. Sometim.es he gets married mar-ried and his wife either rescues him incompletes- his ruination; sometimes he winds up in the penitentiary; sometimes some-times he is placed among tie incurables . of the insane asylums; sometimes he-Alls he-Alls a drunkard's grave. In most cases he is lost to self-respect.- lost to a useful career, los'c to the honor of his family, lost to the love of Gcd. The downward down-ward grade is steep and smocth; it i the upward track that is of easy incline in-cline even if it be rugged. See the steps toward the precipice too much spending money, late hours, evil companions, com-panions, maleficent resorts, disrjspeet of parents, dissipation, profligacy, absence ab-sence from home, neglect of religion, deliberate and persistent rejection of grace, vice, ruin! Is there a young man who will read this who ii jh me siope to . perdition? Let him change his ways today. Let him take the counsel of his parents, ot-the ot-the malediction of heaven may come -upon him. "The eye that mocketh at his father or his mother and despiseth to obey, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out and the young- eaerles shall eat it!" Lawless Sparrows. ! Sparrows seem to be governed by j about the impulses that cause a hungry i boy to tiptoe into the pantry and , "coon" a fistful of cookies; that is. they think a thing is right because they want to do it. It is no uncommon thin-to thin-to see a busy little cock sparrow hep between a horse's hind feet and then, dart ud and sieze a hair of the horse'a " tail. Unless interrupted the sparrow-will sparrow-will pull that hair until he gets it Then he will fly away to his nest in triumph An English writer describes a similar experience with a London sparrow He sayr.: "I have received a small story from St. James' park which is interesting interest-ing as a confirmation of the conclusion of science. My informant was feeding with bread crumbs a wood pigeon at hi3 feet.' One of the birds feathers, an, under tail-cover, which was ruffled and out of place, caught the eye of a sparrow. spar-row. The sparrow flew down, siezed it in it? beak and pulled its best The feather did net yield at once and the pigeon walked off with offended di- ' nity. The sparrow followed, r t ill hold- ' ing on. and in the end flew t,ff triumphant trium-phant with .the trophy to its nest." ) .Y " |
