Our Young Folks at Home and Abroad Part 44

The fight thickens--the issue is doubtful, but not long--the defenders are routed, and the a.s.sailants press forward to the citadel. Most skillful are they, for with neither cannon nor battering-rams they speedily make a breach in the walls, and in they rush, pouring through the street and lanes of the devoted city. Yet they do not destroy it--they do not kill the inhabitants--they do not even stay within the walls so hardly won. In a very short s.p.a.ce of time they return as they came, save that each bears a portion of the spoil for which they came.

They form in order once again, they march in line, they regain their own quarters, but each one carrying--would you believe it?--a _young slave_.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {ANTS HEADING OUT ON AN EXPEDITION.}]

Yes, the army did not care to conquer the strange city; the expedition was organized solely and entirely that they might steal the young and bring them up in their own colony as slaves. For, through the long influence of evil habits, the race to which these warriors belong have lost their natural powers, and so have now to be waited on, fed, and altogether taken care of by its slaves. With food before them they would starve unless the slaves put it into their mouths.

If they want to change their abode, the slaves must make the new habitation ready, and then carry their masters on their backs to reach it. If the children have to be taken care of, the slaves must be the nurses. In fact, _fighting_ is the one single thing they _can_ do, and that, as we have seen, they do well. As the supply of slaves is necessary to their existence, every now and then they have to go and help themselves in the way we have just seen them do; and though the idea of slavery is abhorrent to every mind, we must allow that they are brave soldiers, and under excellent discipline.

Now, can you tell me who the soldiers are? Go back to your history stories and think. Some old Roman race, perhaps, or the early inhabitants of Britain, when people knew no better? Or some tribe of savages in America, or the South Sea islands at the present time? Nay, you must guess again, or shall I tell you? Yes, you give it up. Well, then, it is a people "not strong;" small and insignificant, yet wise, for this is what the Bible says, "Go to the ANT, consider her ways and be wise."--Prov. vi:10.

This race of warriors is none other than the slave-keeping ant, (_Polyergus rufescens_). I do not think you would meet with it in our woods, but in Switzerland and other countries it is common. Huber, who wrote so much about bees and ants, first witnessed an attack near Geneva. I should tell you that the young which they carry off are the larva or young grubs, which, transferred to the nests of the conquerors, soon become ants, and live the rest of their lives in serving them, and waiting on them, as slaves or servants would their masters.

How extraordinary! Do they pine for their own kind? Are they happy in their bondage? We do not know, but as far as we can judge they render a willing and cheerful service, forgetting themselves in what they do for others. Then, of course, they are happy; we need not repeat the question; we are only lost in wonder at this strange and interesting page in Nature's book.

M. K. M.

GRACE DARLING, THE HEROINE.

I presume most of you have heard of Grace Darling, the brave girl who lived with her father and mother at Longstone light-house. On the 6th of September, 1838, there was a terrible storm, and W. Darling, knowing well that there would be many wrecks, and much sorrow on the sea that dark, tempestuous night, waited for daybreak; and when at last it came, he went to look out. About a mile away he saw a ship in great distress, but the storm was so awful he had hardly courage to venture through it for their relief. His daughter Grace, who was watching the wreck through a gla.s.s, could no longer bear to see the poor fellows clinging to the piece of wreck which remained on the rocks where it had been broken, and make no effort to help them. She knew they must be lost. So she implored her father to launch the life-boat and let her go with him to the rescue. He consented, and father and daughter, she taking the oars while he steered, went pulling away for the wreck; and I can fancy how the poor fellows watched the life-boat like a speck on the waters, counting each minute as it neared them, then fearing, as it seemed to be almost lost amid the mountains of hissing and boiling waves, lest it should never come to them at all. But at last they are alongside; the sufferers hesitate not a moment, but jump for the life-boat, and so nine precious lives were saved from a watery grave.

Every one sang the praises of brave Grace Darling. A sum of $3,500 was presented to her as a testimonial, and she was invited to dine with the Duke of Northumberland. She died at the early age of twenty-seven, of consumption.

Now, my readers cannot all be Grace Darling, but they can come to the help of the perishing; those that are weary and ready to die. They can all do something, by working, by little efforts of self-denial, and by praying for those who are in danger of being lost; and then one day they will hear those wonderful words, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto me." A testimonial worth having indeed!

ADAM AND EVE.

Adam and Eve are my two pet doves, They live in a cot in the maple tree, They coo and coo as other doves do, And I know they are fond of me.

Eve is a dear little milk-white dove, Her eyes and feet are of coral red.

She wears a quill of gray in her wing, And a small white cap on her head.

Adam is bold, and he struts about, In coat and vest of chocolate brown; Eve is as sweet as a dove can be, And Adam will sometimes frown.

Adam and Eve are my two fond doves, Their cottage stands in the maple tree, They coo and coo, as other doves do, And often take lunch with me.

MRS. S. J. BRIGHAM.

SWINGING SONG.

Swinging! Swinging!

Up where the bees and the b.u.t.terflies are, Winging! Winging!

Their flights 'mong the blossoms that shine near and far.

Ringing, Ringing, Song of the blue-bird and bobolink's call, Singing, Singing, Up in this beautiful world are they all!

Clinging, clinging, In this green shadow, the clematis swings.

Bringing, bringing, Hints of strange odors, and dim woodland things.

Flinging, flinging, The snow-ball, its white, pretty blossoms on me, Springing, springing, The damask rose climbs to the lattice to see!

Backward my hair is floating and swaying, Here o'er the garden-walk softly I sing; Far more delightful, than wearily straying, Is it to dream here, while gently I swing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {CHILDREN AT THE BEACH.}]

HOW THE DAYS WENT AT SEA-GULL BEACH.

No school! And the beautiful summer days coming so early in the morning, that none of us children ever could get awake to see the sun rise, and staying so long that we grew quite tired of being happy; and some of us, Gracie and Jimmie in particular, were so little, that they couldn't stay awake through the whole of it, and went off into a nap every day after dinner.

But this was in the city, and when we arrived at the beach we didn't get tired or cross the whole day long. There were many children at the hotel, and when we came, with our dolls and toy boats, our fishing-tackle and spades, and pails, we made a host of friends immediately.

Reginald and Willie, our older brothers, did not always go with Gracie and Jimmie and me, but made the acquaintance of the men that went out to sea to fish for the great hotels; and they went oftentimes with them, and we used to enjoy seeing the little boats launched; they almost stood on end when they went over the breakers, making us scream with excitement and delight. And as the little fleet grew less and less, and at last disappeared, we girls thought it was a grand thing to have such brave brothers.

I was the elder girl, being ten, and Gracie seven. Our Gracie was a lovely little sister; she had large blue eyes, and wavy brown hair, and was very gentle and obedient, and people called her "Pet," almost as soon as they became acquainted with her.

Mother had blue flannel suits made for us, and dressed in these, with sailor hats that had little tapping ribbons at the sides, we scurried along the beach, climbed the rocks, or waded out into the salt water.

But we had on our very prettiest dresses in the evening, for the children were allowed to have the grand parlor, and dance to the music of the band until nine o'clock. This was a privilege we older ones talked of continually, and looked forward to all day. We were so dainty, genteel, and good-mannered for an hour, that it impressed even ourselves; and boys and girls became models of gentleness and polite behavior, and the effect of those delightful evenings has given growth and direction to many graces in our character.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF THE BAND.]

But the little ones, like Gracie and her friends, really couldn't stand the excitement, and rolled around in odd corners on the floor, or sought the grateful obscurity behind the sofas, to indulge in naps, long before nine o'clock. I found Gracie, in her pink silk dress and violet slippers, lying curled up under the table, with her head on the back of Bosin, the great Newfoundland dog that had stolen into the parlor against rules.

Nelson Faber was a little boy, not much older than Gracie, and they seemed to enjoy each other's society very much. He too oftentimes succ.u.mbed to sleepiness when we wanted him to do his sailor dance; but when the morning came, they were as rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed as ever, and trotted along the pleasant walks with their hoops and pails, inseparable friends. It was fortunate for Gracie, too, that he preferred to play with her, rather than to go off with the boys, for one day after a boisterous night, the sea came up higher on the beach than we had ever before seen it; and unsuspecting Gracie was caught by a wave and thrown down, and as it retired it seemed to drag her along with it; we older ones lost our presence of mind entirely, and screamed and cried, and did nothing, but that heroic little fellow ran into the boiling surf and caught her dress, and with the dog's a.s.sistance, dragged her to a safe place. She said he was, "Very nice and dood."

One day, some of my girl companions proposed to visit the rocks that lay at the mouth of Green river, just where it gently met the ocean.

Right there, no end of sea-weed and sh.e.l.ls, and things thrown up by the ocean, could be found; and there were such curious rocks, with nooks and basins, where the water stayed in tiny pools, and there we went fishing, and brought lunch, setting it out on the most convenient flat rock we could find. I tell you, cold chicken, pickles, cheese, and sponge cake, with milk, tasted as they never did before or since, to our party of hungry children. We climbed and fell, and laughed, and chatted, with the salt breeze lifting our hair, and fanning our brown faces, and going out far on the point, we came upon a little shining lake, surrounded by rocks, upon which we could sit, and dabble our feet in the water. It was no place more than a foot deep, and we decided to wade round in it. It was a comical sight to see us navigating ourselves in procession through that water, but it was a very questionable joke, when Milly Sayre jumped and screamed, and ran like a frantic creature from the pool, and up the rocks.

"What's the matter, Milly," we cried. "Are you hurt? What did you see?" we breathlessly shouted.

"Oh! oh!" was all she could gasp, pointing to a place she had just left. We all scrambled out instantly, and peered over the rocks into the water.

[Ill.u.s.tration: INSEPARABLE FRIENDS.]