Various
Harper's Young People, November 11, 1879
"All the same, I'd rather come from a garden," said the rose.
"And I from a meadow," said the daisy.
"And I from a lake," murmured the water-lily.
"But I wouldn't," said the lame girl, forgetting her pain, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes—"I wouldn't, if I were a flower. I think the flower that grew in a cellar the best and sweetest of you all."
All was silence when she ceased speaking, and from that day to this never has she heard lily or daisy, rose or geranium blossom, speak again.
GLOVE CASE
GLOVE CASE.
The holiday season is approaching, and little girls, who have generally more time than money, are employing their leisure moments in making pretty gifts for their papas and mammas, and brothers and sisters, which will give double pleasure as being the work of their own hands. Here is a pretty holiday gift, which our young friends can readily make with the help of the following description: Cut of Bordeaux velvet one piece eleven inches and three-quarters long and six inches wide for the outside, and cut three pieces of white satin of the same size for the lining. Apply embroidery worked on white cloth to the velvet. Having transferred the design to the material, which is pinked on the edges and inside of the figures, work the flowers in chain stitch with coral red silk in several shades, the stamens in knotted stitch and point Russe with yellow silk, and the spray in herring-bone stitch with olive silk in several shades. For the buds in knotted stitch use pink silk. Having bordered the application with olive-colored satin ribbon half an inch wide laid in box pleats, chain-stitch it on the foundation along the inner edges with gold thread. Underlay the velvet with wadding, and line it with satin; join the two pieces of satin designed for the bottom over wadding, and edge the bottom with a ruffle of Bordeaux satin ribbon seven-eighths of an inch wide. The case is joined with narrow white satin ribbon. Bows of olive and Bordeaux satin ribbon trim the case as shown by the illustration. A full-sized design of the embroidery was given on page 120 of Harper's Bazar, No. 8, Vol. XII. It is a good plan to perfume the wadding with sandal-wood, violet, or some of the many fragrant powders sold by druggists for this purpose. This pretty glove case can be varied by making it of plain silk or velvet, and trimming it in any style our young readers may fancy.
THE STORY OF A PARROT
[Continued from No. 1, Page 6.]
PAPA FIGHTS THE SERPENT.
A baby parrot who has just burst forth from his shell is not pretty to look at; indeed, I dare say you would have thought me exceedingly ugly. Like my brother and sister, I had a big bald head and a tremendous beak, while my wrinkled body was very small. I seemed to be all head, beak, and claws. Yet I remember perfectly well hearing our parents say to the many friends who came flying from all parts to offer them congratulations that we were the three most beautiful children ever born. I believe parents always think their children beautiful, and of course no one is ever so impolite as to contradict them.
We were very hungry babies, and poor papa had very hard work to bring home enough food to fill our three big beaks, which we kept wide open from morning till night. Mamma was very particular that our food should be of the most delicate kind, and papa often had to make long journeys through the forest to gather seeds and berries. He was a very kind papa, and if, as sometimes happened, he complained that his wings ached from flying so much, and that we made so much noise he could not sleep, mamma had only to call his attention to our rapid growth, and the beauty of our soft gray feathers, to put him at once in the best of humor. "They are magnificent children," he would say at such times, "and when they grow up I shall do as well by them as my father has done by me." Little did he think in those happy days that I, his eldest son, would soon be lost to him forever.
Our life was indeed peaceful, although we were subject at times to some anxiety from the attacks of certain wicked creatures which haunted the shores of our beautiful river. I remember, as if it had taken place yesterday, what happened one beautiful morning while papa had gone out to find our breakfast. Mamma had nestled down with us, and had soothed us into taking a little nap, when we were all startled by loud, shrill cries. Mamma recognized papa's voice at once. She was naturally very brave, and I think, to protect her children, she would have flown in the face of a lion. She now rushed to the door of our nest, where she stood, her feathers bristling, ready to give fight to whatever might try to enter. As she filled the whole doorway with her spread wings, we could not peep out to see what was the danger, although we stood on tiptoe and tried with all our strength to push our heads through her feathers. She gave us some smart taps with her claw, and ordered us back to the interior of the nest; and when she at length told us in a frightened whisper that papa was fighting with a ferocious serpent, we huddled together as close as we could in the very bottom of our hole. We knew that serpents murdered young parrots and ate them, for only the day before we had heard a neighbor telling mamma that one of these monsters had eaten six little parrots, children of a dear friend of hers, for his breakfast. Although mamma had said, after she went away, that she was only a gossip, and said such things to frighten us, now we were sure it was the truth, and we expected to see the serpent's head thrust into our nest, his mouth open to devour us. My brother and sister were half dead with fright. I tried to cheer them, assuring them that papa was strong enough to drive away a whole army of monsters, and when mamma suddenly flew away from the door, I crept up cautiously and peeped out. What was my relief to see papa flying rapidly toward the river, with an enormous serpent hanging dead in his claws! I screamed the good news to my brother and sister, but they refused to be comforted. In vain I assured them that the danger was over, that the serpent was conquered—was dead, in fact;—and that papa had thrown the loathsome body into the river, that we might not be frightened at the horrible sight. My brother and sister continued crying and trembling until papa and mamma returned.
"MY DARLINGS ARE SAVED."
When at last we heard their joyful cries as they approached the nest, all three of us crept up to the doorway to welcome them. I shall never forget the tenderness with which they regarded us. Papa, who was still trembling with excitement, kissed us gently, while my poor mamma exclaimed, "Saved! my darlings are saved!" and her eyes shone with pride at the courage of her husband.
My feathers grew so rapidly that papa, who was very proud of me, I being much larger than my brother, would often say, "Bravo, my boy! You will soon be strong enough to go out with me into the forest."
In our first attempts to fly we were guided by mamma, who assisted us to hop about on the branches near our nest. After several of these short trials of strength papa took my brother and myself to visit our grandparents, who lived in a noble tree not far away. Never shall I forget my joy and pride when I first spread my wings and flew through the air at papa's side.
We had already made several short excursions, when one day—the most sorrowful day of my life—a boat, which we had been watching anxiously as it came up the river, stopped at the very roots of our tree. There were two men in it. As I peeped from the door I saw one man leave the boat and begin to climb up the trunk toward our nest. Mamma had told us only that morning that robbers had been seen on the opposite shore of our river, and that they were searching for young parrots, whom they tore away from their parents, and sent far away to a foreign country to be sold. "At the least danger," mamma had said to us, "fly. Man is a more formidable enemy than the serpent."
The man climbed nearer and nearer to our nest. Our parents were both away from home, and upon me, as the strongest and oldest, fell the responsibility of saving the family. There was not a moment to be lost. Aided by my brother, I threw my little sister, who was half dead with fright, headlong from the nest, and had the satisfaction to see her fly safely into the neighboring thicket. She used her little wings with strength and courage which would have been impossible for her to show except under the excitement of such terrible circumstances.
When my sister was saved, I hurried my brother after her, and he too escaped. Faithful to my duty, I remained the last in the nest, and at the instant when I spread my wings to fly away, the cruel hand of the robber closed tight around me. At that dreadful moment I fainted, and I remember nothing more until I found myself in a large cage with a number of other parrots, prisoners like myself.
Of the monotonous misery of the long sea-voyage that followed I can not even now endure to think. More than half my companions perished; and when at last we reached this great city, which I hear men call New York, I myself was nearly dead from confinement and sea-sickness.