Harper's Young People, August 24, 1880 Part 3

What could the matter be?

"Ha! ha! ha! Oh, ha! ha! ha!"

Father and mother, Solomon and Isaac, Elias and John, with Philemon in the rear--into the room they all rushed, winking and blinking, candles in their hands.

There, in his red night-gown, hopping up and down in front of the clock, was Master Romeo Augustus.

"Ha! ha! Hurrah! It's nothing but the _pen'lum_ and the two _weights_.

Ha! ha! ha!"

n.o.body could guess what he meant. If Elias knew, he kept his own counsel. But a gleam of intelligence broke over Solomon's face.

"It's a wise fellow who wrenches forth the serpent's fang," shouted he.

"Three cheers for Romeo Augustus!"

The cheers were given with a will.

But mother caught her little son in her arms. "He's been walking in his sleep," she cried, "and it all comes from eating plum-cake for tea."

But the clock knew better. So did the clock-moon. It wagged its head at Romeo Augustus. "Brave boy! brave boy!"

And Romeo Augustus nodded back. "Good-night, old fellow!"

He could say that now with the rest. He was not afraid of the clock any longer.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SCENES ON AND ABOUT THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL a.s.sEMBLY GROUNDS AT CHATAUQUA LAKE, NEW YORK.--FROM SKETCHES BY FRANK BEARD.--[SEE PAGE 626.]]

YOUNG PEOPLE AT CHAUTAUQUA.

A BOY'S LETTER.

Dear Tom,--I last saw you waving your cap as our train rolled out of the station. That night I slept on a shelf in the sleeping-car, and the next morning we got breakfast at Hornellsville; and it was a good one, I tell you. About noon we got off the cars at Jamestown, and after dinner rode over the hill in a stage, and came to what looked like a narrow river winding among the trees.

This they said was the outlet of Chautauqua Lake. You would suppose that the water runs into Lake Erie, which is only seven miles away from Lake Chautauqua. But instead it goes into the Ohio River, and then down the Mississippi into the Gulf of Mexico.

We went on board a steamboat three stories high, with a big paddle-box fastened on the stern, and steamed up the outlet for about three miles through the wildest swamp I ever saw, until all at once the lake opened before us. I thought that we would be at Chautauqua in a few minutes, but the old stern-wheel kept pushing us on for a couple of hours. At last I began to catch glimpses of cottages among the trees. Then we drew up to a little wharf, and almost everybody went ash.o.r.e. We followed the crowd through the gate, and so we found ourselves at Chautauqua.

The first thing that I saw was a park, with flowers and fountains and statues under the great trees. Then I came upon the model of a city, with all its houses and churches. This was Jerusalem. A man was explaining it to a crowd of people, and pointing out the places with a long pole. There is an Oriental house, and a park laid out to look like Palestine, with the top of Mount Hermon white-washed, and the Jordan with real water. A frog winked his eye at me, and then jumped into the Dead Sea. (That makes poetry, don't it?)

There are any number of streets laid out in the woods, and lined with all sorts of cottages. We all asked uncle to let us live in a tent, and you don't know how airy and pleasant it is. Cousin Jennie says she can't find any places to hang up "her things"; but I put mine on the floor, which is always handy.

I happened to be awake early the next morning after we came. Everything was quiet and still until the bell rang for six o'clock. Then there was a noise, as if all the boys in our school were hollering at once. I jumped up, wondering if the Fourth of July had come again. But pretty soon I found that it was only the newsboys (which means most of the boys here) selling the morning paper, _The a.s.sembly Herald_. I went out and got a lot of papers, and made ten cents profit on them before breakfast.

There is a big bell on the upper part of the grounds. An old man rang it while I was standing by, and all at once I saw dozens and dozens of boys and girls running from all directions toward the corner where I stood. I asked one fellow what it all meant, and he said, "Why, don't you know?--it's the _children's hour_." So I just dropped into the stream, and went up the street to a large building with a dome and some wings.

They call it "The Children's Temple." It was so full of young people that I had hard work to crowd myself into the corner of a seat. There was a platform in front, and a big black-board, and two gentlemen, both with foreheads that went clear over to the back of their heads. There was singing, and then one gentleman talked to us, and got us all to answer and repeat, and we never knew that he was teaching us a lesson until we had learned it. The other gentleman then came forward and drew a picture so fast that it seemed like magic, and so funny that we all laughed and laughed again. It's the jolliest "children's hour" I ever saw, and I'm going every day.

I can't begin to tell you of the good times here for boys. When you read in the papers about the big meetings and the long lectures, you might suppose that young people don't have much chance; but you'd be mistaken.

We go boating on the lake, and fishing down at the Point, and bathing in a safe place along the sh.o.r.e. This afternoon all the boys and girls are going pilgriming through Palestine in a procession. Last evening I went out with little Susie for a walk. We came upon an immense telescope. The gentleman let me take a peek through it, and I saw the ring around the planet Saturn. Then he held little Susie up in his arms, and let her see it too.

There is a tent with a lot of microscopes, and two young ladies who show people how to use them. I looked at a drop of water through one, and saw in it an animal fierce enough and almost big enough to bite off your head.

And then there were the fire-works last night. I can't tell you how gorgeous they were: fountains lit up with bright colors; Roman candles flashing, and rockets soaring to the stars; the steamers all hung with Chinese lanterns, and sailing round and round upon the lake; the woods bright with the blazing electric lights overhead. Oh, it was grand!

I can't stop to write about the squirrels that run up and down the trees, nor the big tent where we get our dinners, nor the little tent where we sleep, nor the pictures at evening in the Amphitheatre (that's a great hall where they hold meetings), nor lots of other things. Next year I hope you'll come with us, and have a good time.

Your friend, BOB.

MIMIR'S WELL.

A SCANDINAVIAN MYTH.

BY JULIA CLINTON JONES.

In the north of Europe there is a rugged land, where the winters are long and dark, with short bright summers. Nine hundred years ago the people there were pagans, believing in G.o.ds and giants, and their mythology is full of wonderful stories. As these myths, or sacred fables, tell of strange adventures, I think you will like them quite as well as even the _Arabian Nights_.

Take your maps now, and find this wild north land. It is called Scandinavia, and comprises Norway and Sweden. The home of these Northern G.o.ds was a city called Asgard, built above the clouds, in the midst of which stood Valhalla, the hall of the chief G.o.d, Odin. Such a marvellous place as this was! It had a golden roof that reflected light over all the earth, just like the sun, and its ceiling was supported by spears, while millions of shields formed its walls, over which were draped coats of mail. A huge wolf stood before its immense gates, through which eight hundred men could march abreast. Around the walls flowed a deep river, through whose waves Odin's guests were forced to wade. But I can not tell you now of Odin's feast, which was always being held in Valhalla, nor of his guests, the heroes, whom the beautiful Battle Maidens brought there on b.l.o.o.d.y shields from the earth. Asgard was overshadowed by the mighty tree Igdrasil. This tree was more marvellous than any of which you ever heard; no cork, nor India rubber, nor banyan tree could begin to compare with it; for this was the Life-Tree, and had been growing before creation. The horrible dragon, Death, gnawed constantly at its roots, but three sisters, the Nornas, watering them daily from the Life-Spring, kept the tree flourishing. Seated under its shade, the elder sisters (Past and Present) spun away briskly at the wonderful web of Time, which the youngest (the Future) amused herself by tearing to pieces. Far down in Giant-land, where the roots began to shoot, was an ancient well, guarded by the good giant Mimir (Memory). There the G.o.ds always went for a morning draught that should make them wise in their daily tasks, since this was the well of wisdom.

On one occasion there was a disturbance in Asgard. Loki, a bad spirit, living there in disguise, had been playing tricks on the G.o.ddesses, and setting the G.o.ds by the ears through his mischief-making pranks, while leading them into many dangerous sc.r.a.pes, though as yet he had not been found out. His children, too, were just as bad as himself, his son Fenris (Pain), a hideous howling wolf, being the terror of Asgard, while Hela, his daughter (Death), was more horrible than I can describe.

Besides these, Loki had brought in other bad spirits, and altogether Asgard was greatly disturbed. Odin himself did not know what to do. He asked the Nornas, but they could not answer, although the youngest hinted that if her lips had not been sealed she could have told something. At last he determined to see Mimir, and take a drink from his well. Saddling his eight-footed horse Sleipnir, away he rode in the night, all alone, over the Rainbow Bridge that joins Asgard with Earth, down to dark Giant-land. He had often before been there to consult Mimir; for although Odin was very wise, Mimir was wiser still, since he guarded the source of wisdom.

The giant was sitting deep in thought by the well, his white beard flowing down far below his waist, which was clasped by a girdle graven with curious characters, as old as the world. He heard Odin coming, and rising to meet him, said this was just what he had known must happen; for what else could have been expected with such a set as Loki and his family living in Asgard? The first thing to be done, he said, was to cast them out from among the G.o.ds, then bind them fast in some safe place far away.

What do you suppose this advice cost? Giant-land, you know, was very dark, and although the well was full of wisdom, Mimir had not always light enough to read its secrets. Odin's eye was the sun; so Mimir was glad enough to give his horn of water for a daily loan of Odin's glowing eye, while Odin was willing thus to buy the advice that should make Asgard happy again.

[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 37, July 13.]

THE STORY OF THE AMERICAN NAVY.

BY BENSON J. LOSSING.

CHAPTER VII.