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Ebook has 354 lines and 23052 words, and 8 pages

A CRABBING ADVENTURE.

BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN.

There were George and Bert, Sarah and the baby.

"And you and I have pretty good appetites, Bert," George would say, whenever the Fieldens' finances were discussed, which, since the father's death, had been pretty often.

"If we could only have staid on in the house in Fayetville! The garden was getting along so nicely, and now to think all the fruit and vegetables will be picked and sold or eaten by somebody else!" and Sarah sighed, as she thought of the spring budding and blossoming in which she had taken such an interest.

"But why can't we live off the river in place of the garden?" asked George. "The boys down at the dock say they can make lots of money selling soft crabs. They get from sixty to seventy-five cents a dozen, and, oh, mother, if Bert and me could only have a net and a boat and a crab car, and roll up our pants like Nat Springer, we'd just bring you so much money that you needn't hardly sew at all!" and in his enthusiasm George's eyes sparkled, and he ruthlessly trampled upon every rule of grammar he had ever learned.

At first Mrs. Fielden was inclined to discourage the young would-be fishermen, she having a perfect terror of their both being swallowed up by the river, as if it were some beast of prey. But she was finally prevailed upon to give her consent. A second-hand boat was purchased at a trifling price from Captain Sam, an old sailor, who had taken a great fancy to the boys, and he gave them a net, which he showed them how to use.

Thus fitted out, the boys would anchor near the shore a short distance below the village, roll up their trousers above their knees, and then stepping overboard, each take hold of an end of the net, and, keeping quiet as mice, wait until a crab came sailing up or down with the tide, when they would scoop him up, and shout "Hurrah!" if it proved to be a soft shell, and "Oh, pshaw!" if it was hard. However, in the latter case, it was not thrown away, but shaken off into the boat's locker, to be transferred to the car and left to "shed."

They did not at once make their fortune, for although they might have good "catches," that did not always insure a ready market; but as the warmer weather came on, and the village began to fill up with people from the city, the boys procured two or three regular customers, who did not grudge the fair prices paid for the "little-boy lobsters," as Bert called them.

Captain Sam stood firm friend and adviser to them from the first, and when some of the other crabbers were inclined to find fault with what they termed the injury done their business, he did his best to make peace, saying the river was big enough for all.

But one very hot afternoon, George and Bert came down to the shore looking rather blue, for the day previous some of the other village boys had repaired in a body to where the two were anchored, and made such a splashing about as to frighten all the crabs away.

"I think it's an awful shame," muttered George, as he pushed off. "This is a free country, and I don't see why we haven't as good a right to make money out of the river as Teddy Lee or Nat Springer. They--"

But there was no need to tell him anything, for he had already heard of the new outbreak on the part of the village boys, and now appeared with a suggestion, by acting on which hostilities might in the future be avoided.

With their hearts considerably lightened by their friend's sympathy and advice, the two Fielden boys lost no time in following his instructions, and each taking an oar, they were soon spinning straight across the river at a speed that in ten minutes or so brought them to the flat. Here the anchor was dropped over the side, and the boys got out in the shallow water.

Absorbed in the water at their feet, the boys failed to notice the change that was taking place in the sky overhead, and the first intimation they had of the storm that had been brewing all the afternoon was a terrific squall, which struck them with a suddenness that almost took away their breath.

"Make for the boat, Bert," shouted George, the next instant; and the two splashed their way through the now wave-capped waters with all possible speed.

The rope had parted, and they were left helpless on the flats.

"Oh, George, what shall we do?" almost sobbed Bert, for he was only ten, and the wind, and rain, and seething floods around him raged most furiously.

George was frightened too, but remembering his twelve years, he tried to look confident and hopeful, as he pointed out the fact that some one would surely come after them.

"But--but won't the tide come in before then?" queried Bert, his voice trembling still, and his cheeks all wet with rain. "I think I feel it a little higher now."

"It's only the waves makes that," returned George, soothingly, although the same horrible possibility had just presented itself to him.

The storm, however, did not last long; but with the going down of the wind, the tide began to come in faster, and Bert stood on his toes, and then sank the crab car, and stood on that. It was a good mile across the river to Yorking--too far to permit of any signals being seen there--and the nearer shore was quite wild, the woods extending down almost to the water's edge.

And still the tide came rushing in; and then the sun went down, and Bert began to cry in earnest, for he was both cold and hungry, besides feeling it a decidedly unpleasant sensation to have the water creep up little by little toward his neck.

"Why don't Captain Sam come after us?" he sobbed, hiding his face on George's coat sleeve.

"Perhaps he will; but, you see, he don't know we've lost our boat; so we'll just have to wait long enough for them to get worried about us at home."

George spoke bravely, but his heart beat very hard and fast, for now the water had reached above where his trousers were rolled, while Bert, who was almost a head shorter, was wet to the waist.

And so the minutes passed by as if they were hours, with the tide creeping up around the lads higher, higher, till just as Bert's shoulders were about to disappear into its cold embrace, George exclaimed:

"A light! a light! Look, Bert, it's coming this way!"

And now both boys strained their eyes to see if they might hope, and then cried out with all their might.

Nearer and nearer came the welcome beacon, casting a shining pathway before it over the waters, and soon answering shouts were echoed back, and a girl's voice rang out, "George! Bertie!" and the next moment Captain Sam's boat shot into view, with the "jack-light" on the bow, and Sarah sitting pale and anxious in the stern.

Tenderly Sam's strong arms lifted the two shivering lads on board, and their sister fell to weeping and laughing over them in the most confusing fashion.

On the way back George told the story of their captivity on the flats, and the Captain explained that soon after they had left him in the afternoon he had gone to Fayetville to see his daughter, not getting back till after supper, when he found Sarah rushing up and down the shore in a most distracted state of mind.

"But we've got lots of crabs," put in Bert, from his seat on the car, which he had guarded safely through it all. "And George was real brave, too. He didn't cry once."

"We've lost our boat, though, I'm afraid," returned his brother, anxious to change the conversation.

"Oh, I guess we'll find her somewheres 'long shore to-morrow," replied Sam; and they did, and afterward took good care not to practice false economy by having an old worn-out rope to their anchor.

The next day the lads' adventure was known all over Yorking, and in future the other crabbers treated them in quite a respectful manner, evidently thinking that now the Fielden boys had really earned the right to follow the business.

EDDIE'S LANTERNS.

BY ALBERT H. HARDY.

Eddie loves to watch the fire-flies As the summer evenings pass, Flashing like a shower of diamonds In and out the meadow-grass.

"What are all the lights?" I ask him. "Gracious! papa, don't you know? God has sent these little lanterns, So the plants can see to grow."

EASY BOTANY.

JULY.

This is the month for hosts of wild peas and vetches: the purple vetch in New England thickets; the everlasting-pea on Vermont hill-sides; the pink beach-pea and marsh-pea on New Jersey coasts and Western lake shores: the pale purple myrtle-pea climbing over banks by New England road-sides; the blue butterfly-pea, two inches broad, very showy, and found in woods and fields of New York and Pennsylvania. These are all graceful and pretty.

On Western prairies blossoms the deep pink prairie rose, the only native climbing rose of the States, and on rocky banks in Pennsylvania woods may be found the beautiful wild hydrangea flowers, silvery white or rose-color. Let the young flower-seeker not fail to look for the interesting parnassia, or grass of Parnassus, so named by the learned Dioscodorus more than eighteen hundred years ago, who found it growing on Mount Parnassus. One species of this little plant is abundant in damp fields in Eastern Connecticut and in the Middle and Southern States. The leaves are round and firm, the flower star-shaped, white, and streaked with fine green lines.

The flowers are beautiful, and several are fragrant; the colors white, yellow, and shades of purple, and one, the fragrant purple-fringed orchis, is as perfect and beautiful as can be imagined, and well repays the tramp through damp woods. So also does the superb white lady's-slipper, found in the same localities, and contrasting finely with the dark, shaded places it loves, the large white blossoms, with purple or red lines, two or three on a stalk. In shallow pools and wet places the white arrow-head is plentiful; and the whiter wild calla, really handsomer than its majestic relative the cultivated calla, and the brilliant cardinal-flower gleam out beside the water-courses.

WILD FLOWERS OF JULY.

COMMON NAME. COLOR. LOCALITY, ETC.

Aconite, wolf's-bane Purple, poison Dry rocky places; Pennsylvania. Agrimony Soft yellow Open woods; New Jersey. Archangelica White Dry open woods; Middle States. Beach-pea Purple, large Sea-coast; New Jersey. Black snakeroot White racemes Deep woods; Maine, West. Butterfly-pea Violet, large Sandy woods; Maryland, Virginia. Button-ball White Wet places. Common. Callirhoe Red-purple Dry fields, prairies; Illinois. Cardinal-flower Intense red Wet places. Common. Coral-berry Pink Dry fields and banks. Middle States. Deptford pink Rose-color, white spots Dry soil; Mass. to Virginia. Evening primrose Pale yellow Sandy soil. Common. Everlasting-pea Yellowish-white Hill-sides; Vermont, Mass. Fringed orchis Purple Dark woods; New England. Fumitory Rose-color, nodding Sandy fields; New Jersey. Ginseng White Cool, rich woods. Rare. Glade mallow White Limestone valleys; Pennsylvania. Grass of Parnassus Wh., green lines Damp meadows; Connecticut. Hardhack Rose-color Damp meadows; New England. Hedysarum Purple Vermont, Maine. Hercules's club Greenish-white River-banks; Middle States. Indiana dragon-root Black and red, poison Damp woods; West. Indian physic White, pink Rich woods; Pa., New York. Lady's-slipper White, red lines Deep, boggy woods; New England. Lead-plant Violet Crevices of rocks; Michigan. Marsh-pea Blue, purple Moist places; New England. Meadow-beauty Bright purple Borders of ponds; Conn., N. J. Meadow-sweet White, pink Wet, low grounds; New England. Moss-campion Purple, white White Mountains. Myrtle-pea Pale purple Climbing; New England thickets. New Jersey tea White clusters Dry woodlands; Middle States. Nondo, lovage Wh., aromatic Rich woods; Virginia. Passion-flower Green'h-yellow Damp thickets; Pa., Illinois. Pencil-flower Yellow New Jersey; pine-barrens. Poison-hemlock White, poison Waste, wet places. Common. Prairie rose Deep pink Climbing; prairies West. Prickly poppy Showy yellow Open woods; South and West. Rattle-box Yellow Sandy soil; New Jersey. Royal catchfly Deep scarlet Western prairies. Sea-rocket Purplish New England coast and West. Slender sundew White Shores of Western lakes. Snow-berry White Rocky banks; Vermont to Pa. Spikenard White Rich woodlands; New England. St. Andrew's cross Yellow, stamens crossing New Jersey; Illinois. St. John's wort Yellow, large River-banks; New England. Stone-crop Yellow Rocky road-sides. Common. St. Peter's wort Light yellow Pine-barrens of New Jersey. Touch-me-not Pale yellow Moist banks. Common. Veratrum Purple, poison Swamps; New England. Vetch Blue, purple Thickets; New England. Western wall-flower Orange-yellow Limestone cliffs; West. Wild calla White Wet places. Common. Wild hydrangea Purple, white Rocky banks; Pennsylvania. Wild larkspur Purple, blue Rich woods; Pa., New York. Wild licorice Dull purple Damp woods. Common. Wild senna Yellow Damp soil; Middle States. Wolf-berry White, pink West and South.

THE STORY OF THE AMERICAN NAVY.

BY BENSON J. LOSSING.

"You have no right to tax us without our consent," said the English-American colonists to the British Parliament more than a hundred years ago. "The Great Charter of England forbids it."

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