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ACROSS THE OCEAN; OR, A BOY'S FIRST VOYAGE.

A True Story.

BY J. O. DAVIDSON.

OUR HERO'S FIRST FIGHT.

It was well for Austin that he had been struck by the small coal instead of the heavier pieces, or he might have been killed outright; as it was, after a dash of cold water, and a short rest in his bunk, he was almost as sound as before. But the accident had worse results than a few bruises. He was at once set down as an "awkward landlubber," dismissed from his coal-shovelling, and ordered to do duty in the lamp-room.

This was a dismal hole in the lowest part of the ship, where even what little light there was had to struggle through an iron grating. Behind the counter that ran half way round it stood several large iron tanks, strongly padlocked, labelled "Soap," "Oil," "Waste," "Lamp Wicks," etc. The floor was covered with various necessaries for engine use, and from the beams overhead swung lamps of all shapes and sizes, while the walls were covered with bolts, bars, hammers, and tools of every kind.

Frank's appointment, of course, displaced Monkey, and neither was pleased with the change. Monkey much preferred even the dismal lamp-room to the harder work of scrubbing the engine-room, which now fell to his share; while Austin, used as he was to out-door exercise, felt quite miserable in this dungeon-like hole, where he could not even see to read. He was on duty from dawn till dusk, and even liable to be roused up at night should anything be wanted. His meals were given him after all the rest were served, and only very rarely did he get the chance of asking a question, or learning anything that he wished.

Nor did his troubles end here. The men, who in Monkey's time had been allowed to help themselves pretty freely to the ship's stores, were enraged at finding that their new store-keeper could neither be bribed nor bullied into letting them have anything without orders. One of Frank's greatest troubles was the giving out of soap--a priceless luxury in the forecastle of a steamer, where the "grit," coal-dust, and irritating brine are unbearable if not promptly washed off. For a piece of soap , shirts, stockings, and even tobacco, were gladly bartered; and those who had been shrewd enough to lay in a stock before sailing drove a brisk trade.

This gave our friend Monkey a chance which he was not slow to use. He began by hinting to the crew that Frank's care of the stores was meant to "curry favor" with the officers; and then he went on to losing or stealing whatever he could, and laying the blame on Austin. Nor were these the most serious tokens of his ill-will. One day he managed to give Frank a push which sent him down through a trap-door, though he luckily escaped unhurt. Another time, a similar trick hurled him into the well in which the ship's pump worked, and he only avoided serious injury by clinging to the shaft.

This was hard indeed; but, as the proverb says, "It is a long lane that has no turning," and our hero's affairs suddenly took a turn which neither he nor any one else could have foreseen.

The pride of a steamer is her machinery, and at all hours of the day men may be seen polishing it with balls of cotton "waste," till it shines like silver; but if you venture to touch the glittering surface, you find it burning hot, and scorch your fingers pretty smartly. One day Frank was polishing the broad round top of the cylinder, protected by a thick rope mat from the burning metal, when Monkey, sneaking up behind, suddenly jerked away the mat, throwing him right on to the hot surface. Smarting with pain, Austin sprang to his feet, and regardless of his enemy's superior bulk and strength, flew at him like a tiger. The two grappled, and rolled on the floor, Frank undermost.

Monkey's small, cunning eyes gleamed wickedly as he saw that they were close to the edge of the "crank-pit" , and he exerted all his strength to fling Austin into it. But the latter, who had not played foot-ball for nothing, suddenly wrenched himself free, and dodging round behind his enemy, sprang upon his back, and grasped his throat like a vise. Down went the valiant Monkey upon the hard grating with a whack that made his big mouth swell up bigger than ever; and, pinned beneath Frank's knee, he howled shrilly for help.

His cries were answered by a loud laugh from the sky-light above, through which several of the crew had been watching the combat. At the same moment the second engineer appeared on the scene.

THE BABY KING.

"I, Henry, born at Monmouth, Shall small time reign and much get. But Henry of Windsor shall long reign and lose all, But as God will, so be it."

Hardly had these solemn words rolled echoing through the vaulted roof, striking the hearts of the 26,000 spectators with mournful awe, than the herald raised his voice again, and twice demanded their prayers, for the living this time, and not the dead. And thus he cried, "May God grant long life to Henry, by the grace of God King of France and of England, our sovereign lord!"

Then, when an infant ten months old had been proclaimed King over two of the greatest kingdoms in Europe, the sergeants-at-arms and ushers turned their maces, and shouted together, "Long live the King! long live the King!"

The Duke of Bedford was now sole Regent of France, whilst a council of prelates and peers, with the Duke of Gloucester at its head, governed England in the baby King's name, making use of the amusing fiction of issuing all their decrees and mandates as though they were dictated by the mouth of an infant still in arms.

Sometimes Henry misbehaved, or rather showed the natural temper of a baby. In 1423, when his Majesty was nearly two years old, he was taken by his mother to London to hold another Parliament. It was Saturday when they left Windsor, and at night the Queen and her baby King slept at Staines instead of going on. On the Sunday the Queen wished to proceed, and had her son carried to her car, when, instead of comporting himself with his usual dignity, "he skreeked" , "he cried, he sprang, and would be carried no further; wherefore they bore him into the inn, and there he abode the Sunday all day. But on the Monday he was borne to his mother's car, he being then merry and full of cheer, and so they came to Kingston, and rested that night. On Tuesday, Queen Katherine brought him to Kennington, on Wednesday to London, and with glad semblance and merry cheer, on his mother's barm in the car, rode through London to Westminster, and on the morrow was so brought into Parliament." The old historian would make us believe that Henry refused to travel on Sunday, even at two years old.

The guardianship of the baby King had been intrusted to the Earl of Warwick, and in the pictorial history of this Earl he is represented as holding the King, a lovely baby of fourteen months old, in his arms, while he is showing him to the lords around him in Parliament. The Earl, however, only held his sovereign lord on public and state occasions, leaving the young King in his private walks and hours of retirement to the care of a certain Dame Alice Boteler, his governess, and his nurse Joan Astley. "We request," says his infant Majesty, in a quaintly worded document proceeding from his council, but as usual written in his name, and in regal form, "Dame Alice from time to time reasonably to chastise us as the case may require, without being held accountable or molested for the same at another time. The well-beloved Dame Alice, being a very wise and expert person, is to teach us courtesy and nurture, and many things convenient for our royal person to know."

It was whilst Dame Alice was still in power as the King's chastiser that we again find the royal child noticed as holding the opening of Parliament in 1425. Katherine entered the city in a chair of state, with her child sitting on her knee as before. But Henry was now four years old, and no longer needed to be held on Warwick's arm or placed upon his mother's lap. As soon then as he reached the west door of St. Paul's Cathedral, the Protector lifted the child King from his mother's chair, and set him on his feet, whilst the Duke of Exeter, on the other side, conducted him between them to the high altar up the stairs which led to the choir. At the altar the royal boy knelt for a time upon a low bench prepared for him, and was seen to look gravely and sadly on all around him. He was then led into the church-yard, placed upon a fair courser, to the people's great delight, and so conveyed through Cheapside to his residence at Kennington. There he staid with his mother until the 30th of April, when he returned through the city to Westminster in a grand state procession. The little King was again held on his great white horse, and when he arrived at his palace, the Queen seated herself upon the throne of the White Hall where the House of Lords was held, with her child placed upon her knee. This procession drew the people in crowds to see and bless their infant sovereign, whose features they declared were the image of his father.

His tutor, the Earl, was now always with him, whilst his young friends had distinct and separate instructors, for whom reception and entertainment were carefully provided by the Privy Council. Henry's governor, Warwick, was ordered by the King's guardians "to teach us nurture, literature, and languages, and to chastise us from time to time according to his discretion." Unfortunate little Henry! we find more said about his being chastised than about his being rewarded, as if he were of a rebellious and obstinate temper. On the contrary, he was remarkable for his mildness and the meek submission of his character, and we fear the blows which he had to endure only saddened and subdued him, and rendered him unfit to cope with the ambitious and high-spirited nobles who surrounded him.

Little Henry was no sooner eight years old than it was determined by his uncles and his council that he should be crowned King of England in London, and afterward King of France at Paris. So, after much delay, the royal child was taken to Westminster on the 6th of November, 1429, and there crowned with much pomp and state, amongst the acclamations of the people. As soon as the ceremony was over, the little King, in his robes and crown, created, under the direction of his governor, thirty-six Knights of the Bath. Then followed a sumptuous feast in the great Hall of Westminster, where a noble company were assembled, and nobody of note allowed to be absent. Immediately after this, Henry and a great escort of nobles went to Paris, where he was crowned King of France.

His journey to France, his coronation there, the homage and presents he received from French subjects as their King, must often in his after-life have appeared like a dream.

So Henry, like any other school-boy, submitted, and said no more until he entered on his sixteenth year, when he demanded to be admitted into the council, and to be made acquainted with the affairs of his kingdom. This was granted, and he was after this allowed to conduct his own affairs.

CHILDREN'S SAYINGS.

Georgie was a sharp-eyed little fellow still in frocks, who saw everything, and blurted right out what he thought of it. One morning, while he was playing with his toys at his mother's feet, a lady called, bringing with her one of the homeliest little pug-nosed pet dogs that ever lived. Georgie was all attention at once, and his eyes followed Pinkie wherever he went. Presently the little dog came and sat right down before him, and looking straight in his face, wagged his tail, and seemed delighted to see him. Georgie stared at him for a while, and then looked up earnestly into the lady's face, then at the dog, and then at the lady again, as if trying to make out a puzzle. Finally, when he had settled it, out it came. "Mamma," he asked, "hasn't Mrs. Donson dot a nose just like Pinkie's?" and the worst of it was that it was true. Mamma tried to smooth the matter over, but Mrs. Johnson never forgave Georgie.

Everybody has heard of the little girl who, on being asked, after her first visit to an Episcopal church, how she liked the service, replied that it was "all very nice, only the man preached in his shirt sleeves." That story may or may not be true, but it is true that a little girl in New Jersey said on a similar occasion, "Oh, mamma, the minister had on a long white apron to keep his clothes clean."

Another young church-goer, the daughter of a well-known Baptist clergyman in Brooklyn, who was a critic in her way, and who had a faint suspicion that anecdotes generally were "made up" for the occasion, went one day with her father to hear his Thanksgiving sermon. He told a melting story about his poor blind brother who, notwithstanding his infirmity, was always cheerful and happy. The audience was deeply impressed, and many, including the speaker himself, were moved to tears. On her return home, Mary, we will call her, said, with deep earnestness, "Papa, when you were telling that about Uncle Nat this morning, did you say the real truth, or were you only preaching?"

"Please, ma'am," said the child, timidly, "I s'pose he hired 'em out."

A pretty anecdote is told of a little girl to whom the unseen world is very real. "Where does God live, mamma?" she asked, one evening, after saying her prayers.

"He lives in heaven, my dear, in the Celestial City whose streets are paved with gold."

Doubtless she expected to go there one day, and wanted to make sure of finding the way.

"How does the Lord make cats?" asked an inquisitive little fellow, who was always trying to find out the whys and wherefores of things. "Does He make the cats first, and sew the tails on, or does He make the tails first, and sew the cats on?" Every clergyman who comes to the house is asked the same question, but no satisfactory reply has yet been given. He threatens now that unless he finds out very soon, he will take his favorite Topsy all to pieces, and see for himself.

A little girl in Oil City is just recovering from a severe attack of scarlet fever. During her illness she has been greatly petted by her indulgent parents, who bought her any number of toys and nice things. A few days ago, as she was sitting up, she said, "Mamma, I believe I'll ask papa to buy me a baby carriage for my doll." The brother--a precocious youngster of only six years of age, spoke up at once, and said, "I would advise you to strike him for it right away, then; you won't get it when you get well."

A little girl went timidly into a store at Bellaire, Ohio, the other morning, and asked the clerk how many shoe-strings she could get for five cents.

"How long do you want them?" he asked.

"I want them to keep," was the answer, in a tone of slight surprise.

I SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW.

Then the bluebirds hide, And the buds stand still, And the flowers droop and shrink With a sudden chill, And the young vines stop Growing in the wood, Waiting patiently until He is gone for good.

THE CHAMOIS AND THEIR FOES.

The only European species of the antelope family are the chamois , which inhabit the highest regions of the Alps, the Pyrenees, and the Caucasus. On inaccessible cliffs and rocky crags these graceful mountaineers make their home, and except when disturbed by the approach of man, lead a peaceful and harmless life. The chamois resembles the wild goat of the Alps, but is more elastic and spry. It is especially distinguished from it by the absence of beard, and by its black glistening horns, which are curved like a hook and pointed.

In the spring the chamois is very light-colored, but as summer advances, its coat assumes a reddish-brown hue, which by December often becomes coal black. Its eyes are large, black, and full of intelligence, and its delicate hoofs are surrounded by a projecting rim which renders it firm-footed and able to march with ease over the great glaciers or along narrow ledges of rock.

These pretty animals live in herds, five, ten, and sometimes twenty together. They are merry, wise creatures, graceful and agile in their movements, and spring from cliff to cliff and across chasms with extraordinary lightness and sureness of foot.

In the winter the chamois seek the upper forests on the mountain slopes, where, under the shelter of the widely branching umbrella fir, the drooping boughs of which hang almost to the ground, they find snug quarters, and long dry grass for winter provender.

The chamois is very shy, and is always on the alert. Its sense of hearing, of smell, and of sight is very acute, and the most skillful hunter will sometimes search the mountain pastures for days without securing his game. When the troop is grazing, a sentinel is always appointed, who stands on the watch sniffing the air. At the least approach of danger the careful sentinel gives a shrill whistling signal of warning, and instantly the troop is filing off between the rocks and along the chasms, where no human foot could follow, all whistling together as they march. The only chance of the hunter to escape detection by these watchful creatures is to approach them from above, for, as if conscious that there are few so daring as to penetrate the upper regions of eternal snow, the sharp eye of the sentinel is on the look-out for danger from below.

As the greatest skill and courage are required to secure this valuable game, a good chamois-hunter is a person of importance in the wild Swiss valley where he lives, and the family of which he is a member glory in his deeds, and relate them to awe-struck listeners around the evening fireside. Chamois-hunting is the central point around which cluster all the charms of romance and dangerous adventure; it is the subject of many popular ballads, and its hold upon the imagination of the people is wonderful. Chamois skulls adorned with the black hooked horns may be seen among the most precious treasures of many a Swiss household, each one suggestive of some tale of wonderful bravery and endurance.

The chamois-hunters of Switzerland lead a strange life. None knows when he departs from his home in the morning with his gun, ammunition, and alpen-stock, if he will ever return from the mysterious misty heights towering before him far aloft in the clouds. The pursuit of the chamois will often lead him to the narrowest boundaries between life and death, to overhanging cliffs, and across gorges where even the falling of a bit of turf or the loosening of a stone would be fatal. Up, up, the hunter must go in search of the cunning game, until lost among the cliffs, and blinded by the thick mists which appear as clouds to those in the valley below, he may often wander in the trackless solitudes for days, with the terrible roar of avalanches sounding in his ears, before being able to return to his home. And yet in face of all these dangers, the Swiss, apart from the price they obtain for the flesh, skin, and horns of the chamois, have an inborn love of this sport, and stories are told of many celebrated hunters, men to whom every rock, tree, and path on the high mountains was as familiar as the streets of their native village, and who feared neither fogs, snowstorms, nor avalanches. But few of these hunters, however, have died at home in their beds, for in the end accident overtook them, and their lofty hunting ground became their grave.

INDIANS AND RED WILLOW.

To the Indians of the great Western plains the red willow, which is only found in that country, proves so very useful that its loss would be greatly felt by them. It is a bushy growth, never reaching more than fifteen or twenty feet in height, and is found along the river-banks, where it grows rapidly and in great abundance.

The Indian most values the red willow because from its bark he makes what to him is a very good substitute for tobacco. To do this he strips one of the long, slender shoots of its leaves, and with his knife cuts the bark until it hangs from the wood in little shreds. Then he thrusts the stick into the fire, but not so that it will burn, only so that the bark will become thoroughly dried. When this is done, he carefully rubs it between his hands until it is crumbled almost to a powder.

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