Read Ebook: Little Folks (October 1884) A Magazine for the Young by Various

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Ebook has 221 lines and 46372 words, and 5 pages

des the medal and lyre which every one who gained them valued very much, there was something else which they thought far grander. A statue of the prize-winner was placed in the school and crowned with laurel.

You may imagine how the boy's heart beat with joy as he saw the judge step forward to crown his statue, but just at that moment Lucius caught sight of a young man who had also tried for the prize, and who looked most downcast and miserable.

Lucius sprang forward, seized the laurel crown, and put it on the head of the poor fellow who had been unsuccessful.

"You are more deserving of it than I am," he said; "I obtained it more on account of my youth than my merit, and rather as an encouragement than as a reward."

Then the people set up a great shout of joy, for they knew that a noble heart was worth more than all the poems in the world, and they gave a new name to Lucius Valerius in memory of that day.

So Lucius was always called Pudens, which means Modest, and you may be sure he valued his new title as much as he deserved it, for "Kind hearts are more than coronets."

E. M. W.

THE CHILDREN'S OWN GARDEN IN OCTOBER.

The month of October is, notwithstanding its lack of floral ornaments, one in which the amount of work to be done is by no means inconsiderable, and the pretty little girl, with her hoe and water-can, drawn on p. 241, evidently thinks as much. We must plant now in order to secure a spring display of flowers, and for this purpose nothing can be more satisfactory than bulbous subjects, such as hyacinths, tulips, crocuses, and narcissuses. The hyacinth thrives best in a compost of light loam, leaf-mould, and sand; plenty of the latter may be included in order to secure perfect drainage, which is a very important item in the culture of bulbous plants generally. Perhaps no other spring flowering bulb looks so well when grown in neat patches as the hyacinth; the bulbs should not be less than six inches apart, and at least two and a half inches beneath the surface. They should be purchased in the autumn, selecting firm heavy roots; and "first come, first served" must be borne in mind, as by buying early in the season the best may be secured, and finer spikes of bloom will follow as a natural consequence.

Tulips have been for many years great favourites with gardeners, both amateur and professional. About two hundred years ago the mania for these plants amounted almost to a national calamity in Holland, and scores of acres are now entirely devoted to their culture. For our own part, we scarcely consider the tulip as in any way justifying the praise which is lavished upon it even in the present day, because its beauty is, to say the least, ephemeral, whilst its showiness is far from being either chaste or delicate. It will be, however desirable to have six or even a dozen bulbs, which only cost about a penny apiece. They can be planted any time during the present month, from two to three inches below the surface, in a compost of loam, leaf-mould, sand, and well-rotted manure. When purchasing, see that every bulb is perfectly solid, and select as many different sorts as possible, thereby securing a variety, which is very desirable in a garden of limited extent. In cold northern situations tulip-beds should always be covered over with a little straw or litter during very frosty weather.

The narcissus or daffodil is another of the many spring-flowering plants which are invariably greeted with enthusiasm. The varieties are endless, but the greater number are almost unexcelled for growing in such situations as the tops and sides of hedges, banks, &c. They can scarcely be grown too extensively. Of the various sorts, and exclusive of the ordinary double form, few are more beautiful or more desirable than that known as the Poet's Narcissus . The pure white of the segments and the delicate bright scarlet centre are best when the plant is grown sheltered from strong winds. Another favourite narcissus of ours, and which we can confidently recommend to our readers, is that known as "Orange Phoenix;" it is a singularly beautiful plant, and produces large double and well-formed flowers; it thrives best in a light sandy soil. Several colours may be secured by purchasing a dozen roots of mixed sorts, costing from two to three shillings per dozen. They may be planted any time throughout October and up to the middle of November.

THE DISCONTENTED BOAT.

A boat came back from a journey. It had been to a far-off land. All the sailors jumped ashore, only too glad to run about again, but they tied up the boat to a long arm of rock, and left it there while they were gone.

The tide was very low and the sky was dull; there was just enough water to lap against the sides of the boat, and make it rock up and down. The boat fretted like a petulant child, and pulled at the rope as a dog pulls against its chain, but it could not get away, for all that.

"How dull it is here!" cried the little white boat; "they have all gone on shore and are merry. They don't consider my feelings, left here for the day all alone. And oh, what an ugly place this is!" and it looked right and left.

The sky was grey, the tide was very low; the boat was lashed to a long piece of rock that ran out like an arm into the sea. At each side of the rock a mass of seaweed clung--limp and brown.

"Of all the ugly things I ever saw," exclaimed the boat, "that seaweed is the worst. Think of the places I have been anchored in before--of the lovely tropical flowers that grew at the water's edge."

"You do not know who we are," cried the seaweeds; "we are young fairy sisters, who dance every night. This beach is the floor of our ball-room, and we dance, and are decked with jewels. We dance and are gay in the evening; in the daytime we lie still and rest."

"I do not believe you," said the boat; "you are ugly, and brown, and old. And this place is the dullest I have seen all my life."

So the boat sulked, and was unhappy all day. But when the evening arrived the sailors came down to the shore, and undid the boat, and rowed away.

And the boat looked back, and it was sunset, and a change had passed over the place. The sky was pink and golden, the waves were bathed in light; the sea was as transparent as a sapphire, and you looked through the sapphire roof and saw a golden floor.

Sure enough that was the floor of the dancing-room, and the tide had crept up the sides of the rock, and all the little seaweeds looked yellow and golden, and danced up and down in the arms of the waves.

The boat looked over its shoulder, and saw them: it would willingly have gone back to the scene and danced up and down with the rest, but it never saw them again, for it was bound to a far-off land, never to return.

LUCIE COBBE.

HARRY'S RABBIT.

Harry Pearson was rather a good sort of boy, but he had one very bad habit. He was the greatest stone-thrower in all Tolhurst Village.

It was Harry who had broken the draper's window and the glass of Squire Stopford's greenhouse. He had not been found out; but he knew well enough who had done the mischief, so when one afternoon, as he was running home from school, he saw a man putting up a great placard announcing that stone-throwers would be prosecuted, he felt very much frightened.

He was just slinking home when out came his father, the Squire's gardener.

Harry thought that his father had found out about the stone-throwing, and hung down his head.

But, instead of scolding him as, he had expected, his father said, as if he were pleased--

"Harry, Master Edgar is better to-day, and he wants you to come in now and wheel his chair for him."

Harry's face brightened at once; for there were few things he liked better than to be allowed to go into the Squire's beautiful garden when Master Edgar, the Squire's only son, was well enough to come out in his wheeled-chair.

Edgar Stopford was about the same age as Harry; but he had never been strong, and for more than a year he had been lame.

"All right, father!" exclaimed Harry gleefully. "Is he in the garden?"

And without waiting for an answer he ran in and found Edgar Stopford waiting for him.

"Harry," said Edgar, "I want you to take me in the chair round to the stable, for I want to see the young rabbits. How old are they now, Harry? I've been so ill that I can't quite remember."

"Seven weeks old to-day," said Harry. "I want to see them again very much, Master Edgar. They're such beauties; I can't help thinking of them every day."

"You haven't any rabbits, have you?" asked Edgar.

"No," said Harry. "Don't I wish I had!"

"Mine are prize rabbits, you know," said Edgar, "The old tortoise-shell one took the prize both this year and last year at the County show. Oh! And what do you think? A boy I know has been over here ever so many times trying to get that young lop-eared tortoise-shell doe! You remember which one, don't you?"

"Oh yes! oh yes! That was the one I liked best of all! It had such good broad ears!" cried Harry with enthusiasm. "You didn't let him have it though, did you, Master Edgar?"

"Oh no? He offered me a pair of his best Antwerp pigeons for her. And I wanted the pigeons; but I wouldn't let him have that young doe!" exclaimed Edgar, with a smile on his white face.

"You wouldn't? Oh, I'm so glad!" exclaimed Harry.

"I thought you would be," returned Edgar with another bright smile. "I told him I wanted her for somebody else. Push on, Harry. Let's get round to the stable."

Harry pushed with all his might, while his face flushed up to the roots of his hair; for he could not help thinking--

"I wonder if Master Edgar is going to give that doe to me! But no, that's all nonsense! I won't think of such a thing; of course he is saving it for one of his friends! Shouldn't I like her, though!"

It seemed to Harry quite a long way to the stable, so anxious was he to get there. At last he wheeled the chair into the yard.

"Fetch out the young ones, and let me have a good look at them," said Edgar. "Bring them out one by one; but bring the young doe last."

"All right!" said Harry. And leaving the chair, away he rushed, opened the door of the stable, where, to his delight, he saw the great prize buck in a hutch, and the doe and four young ones all hopping about among a quantity of fragrant hay.

Harry shouted with joy--

"Oh, Master Edgar! Oh, how they've grown! You won't know them! They're lovely!"

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