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The Brownies' Book
March, 1920
One Dollar and a Half a Year
Fifteen Cents a Copy
brownies.192003.002.jpg
This is
The Brownies' Book
A Monthly Magazine For the Children of the Sun
DESIGNED FOR ALL CHILDREN, BUT ESPECIALLY FOR
OURS.
It aims to be a thing of Joy and Beauty, dealing in Happiness, Laughter and
Emulation, and designed especially for Kiddies from Six to Sixteen.
It will seek to teach Universal Love and Brotherhood for all little folk--black
and brown and yellow and white.
Of course, pictures, stories, letters from little ones, games and
oh—everything!
One Dollar and a Half a Year
Fifteen Cents a Copy
| W.E.B. DuBois |
Editor |
| A.G. Dill |
Business Manager |
Address: THE BROWNIES' BOOK
2 West 13th Street
New York, N. Y .
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THE BROWNIES' BOOK
Published Monthly and Copyrighted by DuBois and Dill, Publishers,
at 2 West 13th Street, New York, N. Y. Conducted by W. E. Burghardt DuBois;
Jessie Redmon Fauset, Literary Editor; Augustus Granville Dill, Business
Manager
VOL. 1. JANUARY, 1920 No.1
CONTENTS
|
Page |
| COVER DRAWING. Albert Smith. |
|
| FRONTISPIECE—Thelma Ray Meacham |
66 |
| THE STORY OF PRINCE JALMA. Translated by Mary
Cook. Illustrated by Laura
Wheeler
|
67 |
| THE GROWN-UPS' CORNER |
70 |
| BOBBY PIG. A Story. Augusta E. Bird
Illustrated by Hilda Wilkinson
|
71 |
| E. PLURIBUS UNUM. A Poem. Yetta Kay
Stoddard
|
73 |
| "AND THEN THE WHINING SCHOOL-BOY". A Picture |
75 |
| AS THE CROW FLIES |
76 |
| ANNANCY AN' TIGER RIDIN' HORSE. A Folk Tale. Illustrated by Albert Smith
|
78 |
| LUCINDA BROWN. A Poem. Madeline G
Allison
|
79 |
| OLD MAN AND THE BULLBERRIES. A Story. Grey
Wolf. Illustrated by Gwenyth
Waugh
|
80 |
| IDLE HOURS. A Poem. Lillian B. Witten
|
80 |
| THE JUDGE |
81 |
| THE JURY |
83 |
| NINE OF "THE JURY." A Picture. |
84 |
| AT THE ZOO. Verses. Jessie Fauset. Illustrated
by Hilda Wilkinson
|
85 |
| A STRANGE COUNTRY. Illustrated by Laura
Wheeler
|
87 |
| PLAYTIME: "ALL IN THE FAMILY." A Game. Dora Cole
Norman. Illustrated |
90 |
| A COMMUNITY "SING." A Picture |
91 |
| KATY FERGUSON. A True Story |
27 |
| LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE MONTH. Illustrated |
92 |
| A STUDENTS' PLAY. A Picture |
94 |
| A STORY OF A FORMER SLAVE BOY. Arthur Huff
Fauset. Illustrated |
95 |
| GRADUATES OF DIXIE HOSPITAL. A Picture |
96 |
FIFTEEN CENTS A COPY, ONE DOLLAR AND A HALF A YEAR
FOREIGN SUBSCRIPTIONS
TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EXTRA
- RENEWALS: The date of expiration of each subscription Is printed on the
wrapper. When subscription is due a yellow renewal blank is enclosed.
- CHANGE OF ADDRESS: The address of a subscriber can be changed as often as
desired. In ordering a change of address, both the old and the new address
must be given. Two weeks' notice is required.
- MANUSCRIPTS and drawings relating to colored children are desired. They
must be accompanied by return postage. If found unavailable they will be
returned.
- Application pending for entry as second class matter at the Post Office at
New York, N. Y., under the Act of March 3, 1879.
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[illustration - Thelma Ray Meacham, Detroit, Mich. Age: Six Months ]
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THE STORY of PRINCE JALMA
Translated from the Spanish by MARY COOK
Once
upon a time,—long, long ago, there lived an old man who had a very
beautiful daughter. He was quite ignorant, and knew not gold from silver.
Every day he went into the thick forest to cut firewood, which he carried to the city
and exchanged for food. In this way, he supported his wife and daughter. One
day, while he was cutting the trunk of a large tree, he heard painful
lamentations within. Then an ugly man appeared, and said:
"You have wounded me, and shall die for this."
The old man excused himself, saying:
"Sir, pardon me. I am very poor, and have to search for firewood to support
my wife and daughter."
"And is your daughter beautiful?"
"Oh, yes sir, very much so."
"Very well, I will grant you your life if you will allow your daughter to
become my wife; if not, I must kill you. Within eight days, bring me her
reply,—whether or not she will do as I desire. And. now, open the
trunk of the tree, and you will find much gold. You may take it to your wife
and daughter."
The old man cut the trunk of the tree, and within found much gold. He loaded
his ass with it and returned to the house. When he arrived, his wife and
daughter asked him why he was so late. He explained the case to them, and
the young girl said that she would consent to the marriage, to save her
father. Then he gave them the gold which he had brought. They had never seen
gold coins, and did not know that they were money.
"What is this?" they asked: "What beautiful medals are these?"
"It would be good, father, to sell them in the city, if it is possible," said
the daughter.
The old man went to the city, carrying his gold. He desired to sell it, but
they told him that he had found gold coins, and that with them he could buy
many things. He bought food and clothes for his family and returned at once
to the house.
At the end of the eight days, he took his axe and mule and went into the
forest. He knocked on the trunk of the tree, and the same ugly man
appeared.
"What reply do you bring me?" he asked
"My daughter consents to the marriage." the old man replied.
"Good; but there is one condition, and that is that the wedding be celebrated
in the dark, and that she never try to see me until I give her
permission."
The old man said that it should be as he wished.
And so the wedding was celebrated in the dark, and the young girl lived very
happily. Her husband left very early each morning and returned for the
night.
One day an old woman came to visit the young girl and asked how she liked her
married life. The young girl responded that she liked it very much. Then
the old woman wanted to know If her husband was young or old, ugly or
handsome, tall or short. The young girl responded that she did not know,
because she had never seen him.
"What!" cried the old woman "You have
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[illustration - "No one shall be my wife but you!"]
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never seen your husband! It is not
possible."
"But, you see, he asked it before we were married."
"My child, you do not know whether your husband is a dog. or Satan. You must
see him. Take this match and when he falls asleep, light it, and you will be
able to tell what he is."
So the girl did as the woman told her. When her husband arrived in the middle
of the night, she lit the match and looked at him. She saw that he was very
handsome, but forgot the match, and a piece of it fell on her husband's
face. He awoke at once.
"Ungrateful wretch, you have not kept your word! Now you must know that I am
an enchanted prince. I am the Prince Jalma. My enchantment was almost
broken, but now it is impossible for a long time. If you ever wish to see me
again, you must wear iron shoes and search over the whole world.
Good-bye."
The prince disappeared, and the girl began to weep and regret having taken
the advice of the old woman.
The next day she bought the iron shoes and went to search for her husband.
She visited many cities, asking for the Prince Jalma, but no one had seen
him. At last she came to the end of the world, and seeing the mother of the
North Wind, asked:
"How are you, good woman?"
"Very well, but what brings you here? Not even birds dare come so far. My son
will eat you."
"Madam, I come in search of my husband, the Prince Jalma. I am compelled to
wear iron shoes until I find him."
"I do not know him, child, but it is probable that my son does. Hide yourself
under this pot and when he arrives. I will ask him."
When the wind arrived, he began to roar:
"Hu-u-u-u-u! I smell human flesh here."
"What?" cried his mother, "You smell human flesh here, when not even the
birds can come so far?"
But the wind continued:
"Hu-u-u-u! I smell human flesh here."
His mother set the table and after they had eaten, she said, "Will you grant
me a favor!"
"Speak, mother."
"There is a girl here, in search of her husband, the Prince Jalma. Do you
know him?"
"No, but it is probable my friend, the South Wind, knows him. I will take her
there, if she wishes."
The mother of the North Wind gave the girl a golden hen and some golden
wheat, and the North Wind took her in his arms and carried her to the other
end of the world. There she saw the mother of the South Wind, who cried:
"My child, what brings you here, when not even the birds come so far? My son
will eat you."
"I am in search of my husband, the Prince Jalma. The North Wind said that
your son might know him. Is it true?"
"Hide yourself behind this pot and when he comes, I will ask him."
When the South Wind arrived, he began to growl:
"Hu-u-u-u! I smell human flesh here."
"What! You smell human flesh here, when not even the birds come so far? Come,
eat your dinner and we will talk."
After they had eaten, the mother asked:
"Will you grant me a favor?"
"Speak. I will grant it."
"A little girl has come here, looking for her husband, the Prince Jalma. Do
you know him?"
"No, but my friend the East Wind must know him. I will take her there."
The mother of the South Wind gave the girl a cross of gold, and her son
carried her off to the East Wind. He had not heard of Prince Jalma either,
but offered to take her to his friend, the West Wind. The mother of the East
Wind gave the girl a comb, to sell in case of necessity.
When the East Wind arrived with her, they met the West Wind's mother sitting
on the steps, and the young girl asked her the same question which she had
asked the others, and the woman replied:
"It is more than likely that my son knows him. Hide yourself behind this
pot."
When the West Wind came, he was very angry, but after he had eaten, the
mother brought out the girl who asked, at once, for the Prince Jalma.
"Yes, I know your husband, my child, and I know where he is; I will take you
there. He is imprisoned in a palace, with an old witch and her daughter. The
daughter desires to marry him. No one can see him and he can see no one. He
sleeps under seven keys."
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The mother of the West Wind gave her a cup of gold, to sell in case of
necessity.
Finally she arrived at the palace, where they told her that within four days,
the prince must marry the Witch's daughter. So she sat down in the garden
and tried to make herself appear as a fool. She washed her face with clay
and, taking out the golden hen, attempted to feed it with the wheat. In this
way she attracted much attention. Very soon the witch's daughter came up to
her.
"Will you give me your hen!" she asked.
"No, no," replied the girl.
"Sell it to me, then. What do you wish for it?"
"If you will allow me to sleep in the prince's room for one night, you shall
have it for nothing."
"Very well, you may sleep there."
They turned the seven keys, and the girl entered the prince's room; but
before she came, they had put something in his wine to make him sleep, and
she could not wake him, although she cried very loudly:
"Prince, awake! I am your wife. I have worn the iron shoes and have at last
found you, but if you do not recognize me, you must marry another."
But the prince did not awake, and the next morning they took her away, and
she went back into the garden. She brought out her comb and began to comb
her hair. Soon the Witch's daughter appeared and bought it under the same
condition: but the same thing happened with the prince. The third day she
brought out the cross of gold, and the witch's daughter bought this also;
but the girl was not able to awake her husband.
The fourth day the girl brought out the golden cup, and the witch's daughter
bought that too. But this time the prince had begun to suspect Something
and did not drink the wine. The poor girl entered his room and began anew
her lamentations:
"If you do not recognize me tonight, I am lost forever. I have not another
thing with which to gain my entrance to your room. The witch's daughter has
the hen, the wheat, the comb, the cross, and the cup. Besides, tomorrow
you must marry her."
At this moment, the prince awoke. He beheld his wife, and with great joy
clasped her in his arms:
"No one shall be my wife but you!"
The next day they celebrated the wedding all over again, and the wicked witch
and her daughter were burned.
[This story, "El Principe Jalma" is taken from "La biblioteca de las
tradiciones popularas espagnolas," (Madrid, 1886). The name of the author is
not given. Mary Cook, the translator is fifteen years old and a pupil in the
Dunbar High School, Washington, D. C. Her teacher in Spanish is Miss Julia
E. Brooks]
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THE GROWN-UPS' CORNER
I have your recent note about material for
the children's magazine. Of course I should have sent anything I
thought would be interesting, even without a request, for I think we
are all very fond of this newcomer in the periodical world. I sincerely
hope it will succeed. I have told a great many aspiring young folks
about it.
E. C. WILLIAMS, Washington, D. C.
LET me say that I think THE BROWNIES' BOOK is tremendously
interesting..... Everyone is a child, now and then, and the little book
is very appealing. All at Cheyney were much interested in it.
LAURA WHEELER, Cheyney, Pa.
THE BROWNIES' BOOK is indeed a little gem, and should lend much toward
inspiring the young folks to express their thoughts in writing.
Enclosed find check for two subscriptions. Please start them by return
mail.
CARRIEBEL COLE, Washington. D. C.
THE Editors of the BROWNIES' BOOK would like pictures, and accounts of
the deeds of colored children. If parents are going to the trouble and
expense of having new pictures made, we should like to inform them, that
a black and white, shiny print reproduces best.
And letters! Do have your children write and tell us about their schools,
their ambitions, their views of life, in general. A great deal of wisdom
comes from the mouth of babes.
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Bobby Pig
Augusta E. Bird
In a little red house, upon a high hill, lived a
Mamma Pig and her three little pigs. The oldest little pig was named Annie
Pig, and the next in size was named Bobby Pig, and then came the Baby Pig,
who had no name. Mamma Pig had to go to work early every morning and was
away all day. Each day she would call her children and tell them what she
wanted them to do.
"Annie Pig," she would say, "you wash the dishes and take care of Baby Pig.
Bobby Pig, you pick up chips for Annie to keep the fire burning." Then Mamma
Pig was off to her work.
Annie Pig washed up the dishes and then took Baby Pig out to get the fresh
air. Bobby Pig went out to the woodpile and sat down on a huge piece of
wood.
"Oh, how I hate to pick up chips," he said, "I believe I'll take a little
walk first." Then he walked and walked and walked until he came across a
peanut field.
"Oh, what a nice guber field!" he exclaimed, and began to root his little
pink snout in the rich, loose soil until the white shells of the peanuts
were in sight. He ate and ate and ate until his little stomach was full,
and then he began to think about the folks at home. He knew they would like
some nice gubers for supper, so he filled all his pockets brimful and ran
home.
After supper had been eaten and the dishes cleared away, Mamma Pig got a
needle and thread and sewed up all of Bobby Pig's pockets.
"Oh, Bobby Pig," she said, "fresh roasted peanuts are very nice, but I am so
afraid, for fear something will happen to my little Bobby Pig. Promise
me that you will not run off to morrow, but will stay and pick up chips and keep the fire
burning." Bobby promised.
The next morning, Mamma Pig went to work again; Annie Pig went about her work
at once and finished very quickly and took Baby Pig out in the fresh air.
Bobby Pig went out to the wood-pile and sat down.
"Oh, why do I have to pick up these old chips!" he said, and turned up his
nose in disgust.
"I think I'll take a little walk,—I won't go far," and away he
walked until he came to a very large sweet potato patch.
"Oh, look what I have found!" he exclaimed. "What a nice potato patch!"
After he had eaten his little stomach full of potatoes, he began to think
about the people at home.
"Oo-oo, if Mamma Pig had only not sewed up my pockets," he moaned; "what
shall I do?" After a moment's thought, he said;
"I know what I shall do." Then he unearthed a very large potato and scraped a
hole in one end of it, large enough to fit on his head like a hat, and ran
home as fast as he could.
That night, after they all had eaten of nice fried potatoes, Mamma Pig
sighed:
"Oh, Bobby Pig, fried potatoes are very nice, but someday Man is going to
catch my little Bobby Pig." Mamma Pig's tears began to flow. This made Bobby
Pig feel very sad, and he promised faithfully that he would not run off
again.
The next day, Annie Pig, as usual, hurried through her tasks and took Baby
Pig out to get the fresh air. Bobby took his basket and went out to the
wood-pile. After sitting on the huge piece of wood for a long time, he
said:
"I am surely not going very far today; I am just going to take a little walk
to see what there
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is down in that fence corner." Away he went across the field.
There in the corner, on the other side of the fence, he found a nice little
cherry tree laden down with ripe cherries. Bobby Pig ran against the tree
and down came the cherries, and he ate cherries and ate cherries until his
little stomach was full. Then he began to think about Mamma Pig and Annie
Pig and Baby Pig.
"How am I going to take some of these nice cherries home?" he asked himself.
Then he had an idea, and began to tie the cherry stems together until he had
made several wreaths. He hung the wreaths around his neck and went home. His
mother, returning from work, saw him turning in at the gate, and cried:
"Oh, Bobby Pig, you promised me that you [illustration - W.R.W. ] were not going to run away today. Oo-oo, you break your promise
every time." And Mamma Pig began to cry, Bobby Pig felt very sad, for he
never liked to make his Mamma cry.
"Don't Cry, Mamma Pig, I won't break my promise again, but just think what
a nice cherry pie Annie Pig can make for our supper,"
"'Tis true, cherry pie is very good; but some day Man is going to catch my
little Bobby Pig getting his cherries," lamented the poor Mamma Pig, "and
then I won't have any more little Bobby Pig," Mamma Pig continued to weep
bitterly.
"Mamma Pig, Mamma Pig, please do not cry any more," pleaded Bobby Pig.
"never, never will I run away again."
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On the next morning, before going to work, Mamma Pig cautioned Bobby Pig and
reminded him of his promise to her. Bobby Pig fully resolved to keep his
promise, took his basket and went out to the wood-pile.
"Oh, I just hate to pick up these old chips," he muttered, beginning slowly
to pick them up. He had not many chips in his basket when he sat down on the
huge piece of wood to rest.
"I wonder what is at the bottom of that little woodland," he thought, "I'll
take a little walk and see, and then I will come right back and fill my
basket full of chips." When he arrived at the bottom of the small strip of
trees, he spied the grassiest little spot right by a small running brook.
"I'll just sit down here for a little while, because I must hurry back and
fill my basket with chips," he reminded himself. He did not mean to, but he
fell fast asleep right there by the brook, with his tiny tail wriggling in
the cool water. All of a sudden, Bobby Pig jumped up with a scream: a big
fish had mistaken his tail, wriggling in the water, for a worm, and bit it
so hard that it hurt him very much. Bobby Pig was frightened nearly to death
and he ran as fast as he could to his Mamma and told her that he was not
doing anything but lying beside a little brook, in a nice mossy nook, and
some old horrid something had bitten his tail off,
"Oo-oo, oo-oo, my poor tail," he sobbed, "ooooo, what am I going to do? It
hurts, oh, so very much."
Mamma Pig tied his tail up in a little cloth. She did not scold him, but said
to him in a motherly way:
"You see, little Bobby Pig, if you had kept your promise to your Mamma Pig,
and stayed home and picked up the chips and kept the fire burning, your
beautiful little tail would not have been bitten off."
"Oo-oo, my po-oor tail," he sobbed harder; "it will never be beautiful
again."
It was not very long before Bobby Pig's tail was well and curled just as
beautifully as ever, but this was a great lesson to Bobby; from that day on,
he never again broke his promise to his mother.
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E Pluribus Unum
YETTA KAY STODDARD
My small, eight-year grandson, Jim,
Trembling here beside my knee,
Stood with tearful, wide eyes dim, fixed hard on me,
Asking, "Gran, am I not American,
Like you?
The boys say I'm just Irish. Is it true?"
"Not true, my little man. You are all American !"
I soothed him till his patriotic pain
Was eased, and he could smile again.
"But how shall I explain!"
He questioned. "I want to tell Bim Winthrop and the rest,
My folks are just as good as theirs,—the best!"
"What was Washington, dear lad?"
"English, wasn't he? At least, his dad?"
"And what were Jefferson, the Adamses, Monroe,
Lincoln, Garfield, Roosevelt?"
"I know!"
He shouted. "They were all mixed up, like me,
Dutch and Irish, Scotch and French. What is it, Gran, to be
Plain American? Can I, Flynn's Jim,
Be that?"
I could not answer him
At once. I was thinking of my Jim,
Best American I ever saw,
To whom this nation's sacred principles were holy law,
This boy's grandsire, whose desire
To protect his dusky brothers was a fire—
Purest fire of heart's devotion; whose high pride
Carried him on War's red tide
Into Gettysburg's white flame, leaving me a widowed bride.
I was thinking of Young Jim,
Late man-grown, high-headed, slim,
Gone to war, as his Father Jim had done.
Of the two-and-twenty thousand who fell in and near Argonne,
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One of those who now is sleeping in Romagne.
(News from Argonne snapped the slender thread of life
Of his fragile English-Dutch young wife.)
And his little English-Dutch, Irish-Jew American,
His own son,
Had not known
He could call this land his own!
Had not realized his heritage, his right.
"Light!" and "Light!"
I whispered, praying. "Light to make him certain, sure,
That his lineage is pure."
"Dear," I said aloud, "You must be so nobly proud,
You must so love Liberty that to this land of the free
Naught of wrong through you shall be.
In your veins is a mixed tide:
Irish, English, Dutch, beside
Just a little touch of Jew, to teach ancient pain to you.
I, old Gran, am indeed American,
For I came of a long line pure as Alden's wife's. (Fine,
Stern, clean, firm; unyielding as the rocks,
Were our old New England stocks;
Yet what a shut-in land 'twould be,
Made up but of such as we!)
I was honored, blest, to win
This name that Grandpa gave me, Mrs. Flynn.
My Flynn's Jim!
Would America had millions like to him!
He was big and he was true. He was true because he knew
Truth's deep roots, where'er they grew,
He taught me, as I, Young Jim— and you:
Truth is many, Truth is one;
And he showed me how alone this America has grown
Fairest champion of Truth the world has known;
How the peoples of all lands
Have fared forth from many strands,
Black, brown, palefaced sons and daughters,
Dared the Seven Seas' threatening waters;
Have Come here with strength, fire, youth,
Understanding, loving Truth;
Have wrought here with hearts, brains, hands;
Fought to plant Truth here.
Now, Flynn's Jim,
You go back to Winthrop's Bim,
Show the other boys and him,
You are all Americans as you fit in with old plans
To set Truth so firmly here,
It shall grow from year to year,
Age to age, until so high, it shall touch the starry sky,
And all folk beneath the sun shall be sheltered, everyone.
That is what it means to be
Of America, the free!"
"Thanks, dear Gran. My, it certainly feels good
To know I'm that,—American!"
And so, I knew Jim partly understood.
brownies.192003.013.jpg
[illustration - "And then the whining school boy, with his satchel "And shining
morning face, creeping like snail "Unwittingly to school."
—"As You Like It" ]
brownies.192003.014.jpg
AS THE CROW FLIES
Don't you think that Human folks
are just the funniest ever? Sometimes I just quit flying and hold my sides
and laugh. "Haw, haw —caw, caw!" I gurgle with delight, because
the Earth Folks are so passing queer. I've just returned from Russia and the
East. Gracious, goodness me, but —
- The Allies have asked Holland to surrender the former German Kaiser, for
trial and punishment. Holland has refused, on the plea that there are
no legal grounds upon which she has a right to arrest the Kaiser and
deliver him to the Allies.
- The Allies have, also, asked Germany for over 800 other
persons, including the Crown Prince and Hindenburg, whom they wish to
try for war crimes.
- All nations, except the United States, have formally
declared peace with Germany. The ceremony took place in Paris, January
10.
- The Russian Bolsheviki have conquered most of their
domestic enemies and are making peace with some of the Baltic States.
The Allies have proposed to trade with them, but the Russians want
peace, first.
- The situation of the people between and beyond the
Caspian and Black Seas, is causing some uneasiness. Some fear Turkish
reaction there, and others fear the Russians. Meantime, some new
republics have been established there.
- A conference of the Nations of the World has been called,
to discuss the industrial situation following the war. The chief
difficulties arise from the fact that money has fallen in value and, at
the same time, reconstruction of ruined Europe makes countries try to
buy more than they have goods to pay in return.
- The shocks of war—hunger, wounds, death, and
the stopping of work—have made it difficult to reorganize
work since the war, and, consequently, fewer goods are being produced.
There is also much dissatisfaction. disappointment and unrest among
working people, at the high prices, low wages, and broken promises. Such
is ever the mad fruit of fighting.
- Colored people of Haiti have rebelled against the tyranny
of the United States, which seized the Island several years ago. One
hundred and fifty rebels and some Americans were killed, wounded, and
captured.
- Elections have been held in Irish cities. The Sinn Fein
Party, which wants an Irish republic, separate from England, elected
nearly three-fourths of the officials.
- Georges Clemenceau, Premier of France, has resigned, and
Alexandre Millerand has become Prime Minister and real ruler of France.
The position of the President, Paul Deschanel, is one of honor, rather
than power.
- The German Reichstag has passed a law establishing
committees of employers and workingmen in industrial plants, to settle
disputes. The measure was not radical enough for the extremists, and
they started a riot in Berlin, in which 42 of them were killed and 105
wounded.
- According to the Peace Treaty, Schleswig-Holstein, which
is between Denmark and Germany, was to be divided into three
horizontal pieces. Each one of these was to have the right to vote on
the question as to whether they would remain with Germany or be a part
of Denmark. This was done because originally this whole country belonged
to Denmark and was stolen by Germany. The first northern piece voted
recently, and the vote was 75,000 for return to Denmark and 25,000 for
staying with Germany.
- The miners of England are threatening a great strike
unless the government is willing to take over the mines and run them.
What I cannot see is why these Human Folk do not watch
us Crow Folk more, and learn how to be happy and free, high up in these
wide spaces. Seems to me that the World People live too much cooped up
in little dark holes. That's
brownies.192003.015.jpg
enough to make anybody act funny. When I flew back from
Russia and Europe, this is what I saw!
- John Barton Payne of Virginia has been chosen by the
President as Secretary of the Interior, to succeed Franklin K. Lane. The
Secretary of the Interior has charge of the public lands. Indian
affairs, patents, pensions, the census, and educational information.
- The New York Herald, one of the
oldest daily papers, has been sold and combined with the New York Sun.
- Congress is trying to frame a bill to keep people from
advocating violence and riot. So far, the bills proposed, would stop folks
from thinking.
- On January 16, the Eighteenth Amendment to the
Constitution of the United States, went into effect, and prohibited the
manufacture and sale of alcoholic drinks. While this interferes with
some people's pleasure, it is a great and wise step to protect boys and
girls from the curse of drunkenness.
- Sir Oliver Lodge, a great English Scientist, is lecturing
in this country, on "Immortality."
- The amendment to give the vote to women, has been passed
by thirty-three states. It requires three more states, to pass, and
these will vote favorably soon. Then the greatest discrimination
against women will disappear.
- United States officials have deported to Russia. 249
foreigners, most of whom have lived in the United States a long time.
They were accused of agitating for a change in the government. Most
wise people think this is a poor way to answer their arguments.
- Admiral Sims says that the United States Navy was not
properly conducted during the war, and the Senate is investigating his
charges. Perhaps, we would have done better with more colored sailors.
- The Assembly of the State of New York is trying to expel
five of its members, because they belong to the Socialist Party. This is
a dangerous and un-American effort.
- The steel strike has been declared off. It was
unsuccessful largely because colored men replaced the white workers.
This is too bad, but as long as white workers are unjust to Negroes,
the Negroes must get work wherever they can. The strike cost nearly 350
million dollars, of which nearly 50 millions represent lost wages.
- John D. Rockefeller has given one hundred million dollars
to raise the salaries of teachers in colleges, and for other
philanthropic enterprises.
- There are 450 colored students in northern colleges.
- Colored people have built a beautiful new theatre, the
"Dunbar," on Broad Street, Philadelphia, Pa.
- Colonel Charles Young and three other colored officers
have gone to Liberia, to help in the reconstruction of that republic.
- The American Federation of Labor is going to try to elect
as many Congressmen favorable to the workingmen as possible.
- The President has asked Mr. Lansing, the Secretary of
State, to resign. He said it was because, while he was sick, Mr. Lansing
called the Cabinet together from time to time, and that he should not
have done this without the President's order. Most people think it due
to the fact that the President and Mr. Lansing have disagreed often
concerning the Peace Treaty and our attitude toward Mexico.
- The fifty-first annual convention of the National
American Woman Suffrage Association was held in Chicago. Over 2,000
women were present. This will be the last convention, as the object of
the Association will soon be accomplished, namely, the giving of the
vote to women. Frederick Douglass spoke at many of the early conventions
of this Association.
- The members of the great railway unions have been
threatening to strike for higher wages. At a recent conference with
President Wilson, he promised that if they would not strike now, he
would have a careful investigation made into these matters and see
that they got better wages or lower costs of living.
- In Washington city, there are 100,000 persons, outside
of the Army and Navy, who work for the government. Congress is
considering a bill to make a new set of classes and salaries for all
these employees.
- Jackson Barnett, a rich Indian, has given one million and
a half dollars to charity, chiefly in Oklahoma. This includes a hospital
at Henrietta.
- At a meeting of 1,000 Boy Scouts in New York City, the
story was told of a sixteen year old Roumanian girl, Ecatrina Teodoroiu.
She fought through the war in boy's clothes, had both legs shot off, was
made a Lieutenant, and finally died in battle.
brownies.192003.016.jpg
ANNANCY AN' TIGER RIDIN' HORSE
THIS Folk Tale is one of the famous Annancy stories, which
come from the West Indies, particularly from Jamaica, St. Kitts, Antigua,
Trinidad, and Barbadoes. Annancy is a fantastic character, usually the hero
of the tale. This story is taken from the collection by Pamela Colman Smith,
but all the versions are practically the same.
[illustration - "Breda Tiger is not'ing else dan an ole ridin' horse"
ALBERT ALEX SMITH '20 ]
In a long before time, Annancy an' Tiger was both
cortin' de same young lady. An' dey was bery jealous ob each oder. So one
day Annancy, him go to de young lady house, an' him say:
"You know Breda Tiger is not'ing else dan an ole ridin' horse?"
An' de young lady was bex. (vexed)
An' so de nex' time Tiger come fe see her, she say:
"Go away wid you! How you can come cortin' me, when you know you is not'ing
but an old ridin' horse!"
An' Tiger, him bawl out:
"Who tell you dis one great big lie?"
An' she say Annancy tell her, an' she didn' tink it was a lie at all! So
Tiger, him say him would bring Annancy to prove it! An' him hurry go Annancy
house. But Annancy see him comin', out ob de window, An' him run an' get
'pon de bed an' play him was sick. An' Tiger come to de door, an' knock, an'
say bery sof'ly:
"Breda Annancy, is you in?" An' Annancy say, as dough him was bery sick:
"Yes, me Breda, I is in,"
An' Tiger, him go in, An' Annancy say:
"Oh, me Breda, I so sick wid feaver!"
An' Tiger say:
brownies.192003.017.jpg
"You tell de young lady dis one great big lie, dat I is not'ing but you
fada's old jackass ridin' horse? Now you is to come an' prove dat I is not a
ridin' horse!"
An' den Annancy say:
"Oh, me Breda! How you tink I can come wid you! I just tek de doctor medecine
an' two pill! How you tink I can come to de young lady house tonight?"
An' Tiger say:
"You mus' come! I tell you what I wi' do, Breda; I will carry you 'pon me
back!"
So Annancy say, all yite! An' him get up, an' tek him saddle down from de
rafter, an' put it 'pon Tiger back, an' Tiger say;
"Wha' dat for!"
An' Annancy say:
"Dat is so I can go sof'ly 'pon you' back, fe me head hurt me so!" An' den
him go an' tek down him bridle an' rein, an' put dem 'pon Breda Tiger,
An' Tiger say:
"Wha' dat for?"
An' Annancy say:
"Dat is so when you walk too fas', I will pull you back, me head hurt me
so!"
Den Annancy, him go and tek down him spur an' ridin' whip: an' den him mount
up 'pon de table, an' den 'pon Breda Tiger, an' say:
"Now, me Breda Tiger, you mus'n' walk too fas'."
An' Tiger walk off, An' when dey get a mile an' a little, Annancy tek him
ridin' whip an' give Tiger a lash! An' Tiger jump an' say;
"Warra! Wa'dat?"
An' den Annancy say;
"Oh, me Breda, de flies, dey boder you so, I is lickin' dem off!"
And den Tiger say:
"Nex' time doan lick so hot!"
So dey go anoder mile an' a little; an' den Annancy tek him ridin' whip an'
lash Tiger 'pon de ear! An' Tiger say:
"Warra! Wa' dat?"
An' Annancy say:
"De flies, dey boder you so, Breda Tiger!"
An' Tiger say:
"Nex' time you mus'n' lick so hot, Breda Annancy!"
An' den dey go anoder mile an' a little, an' at las' dey get to de young lady
house, far as de yard mouth.
An' when dey get dere, Annancy see de young lady standin' in de door mouth,
an' him stan' up in him stirrup, like how jockey do, a' Kin'ston race
cou'se. An' him lash Tiger, an' use him spur till Tiger gallop! When dey get
to de door where de young lady was standin', Annancy take off him hat an'
wave it, an' him bawl out:
"Me no tell you so, Missus! Dat dis old Tiger was not'ing but me fada's old
long-ear jackass ridin' horse?"
An' him jump off, an' Tiger was so 'shame dat him gallop away into de bush,
an' was neber seen any more!
brownies.192003.017.jpg
Lucinda Brown
MADELINE G. ALLISON
"I didn't go to Sunday School,"
Sighed pretty Flossie Bell;
"Good girls, of course, obey God's rule,
Oh, dear,—but I must tell,—
"0 Lord, I was a naughty girl,
To stay from You today,
Because Sue Langton had a voile,
And I an old pique."
"I didn't go to church today,"
Said sweet Lucinda Brown;
"But the good Lord, I would obey,
So, Father, please don't frown,—
"For I went out to see Ruth Ware,
She's poor, and lonely, too;
And I went there, her lot to share,
Like You, dear Lord, would do,"
"Now, Flossie Bell, when you're forgiven,
Your soul will hide your gown;
Still nearest Me, above in Heaven,
Will be Lucinda Brown."
brownies.192003.018.jpg
OLD MAN AND THE BULLBERRIES
GREY WOLF
OLD MAN was walking along, very thirsty, so the
first river he came to, he flung himself down to drink. Right after he had
filled up, he noticed a branch full of bullberries, lying under the water.
"Say, that is fine," exclaimed Old Man. "Berries! I guess I'll dive in and
get 'em."
He dived in, swam around under water, and felt for the berries; but not one
could he find.
"That's queer!" he gasped, coming to the surface. "I'll look again."
When the water cleared, he stared into it again. Sure enough, there were the
berries.
Old Man dived a second time, and the poor fellow nearly suffocated, trying
to stay under water long enough to find the berries. Finally he came up and
blew a long breath and climbed out on the bank. After a minute, he turned to
look and the berries were there as before!
"I don't stay under long enough, that's the trouble!" exclaimed Old Man. He
found a stone and tied it around his middle and jumped in. He went down,
like a stone, and flopped on the hard bottom of the river. Once there, he
thrashed his arms about, looking for the berries. It was no use. At last,
choking and bubbling, he tried to rise, but could not. The stone held him
down.
"Do I die now?" he wondered.
"No," answered his tomahawk,—"cut the cord!"
Old Man cut the cord, and the rock fell on his toes.
"OUCH!" he gurgled.
He shot to the surface. Now he was so exhausted that he had to lie on his
back to recover breath. Suddenly he noticed, right above him, a berry bush,
leaning out over the river. It was the reflection of this bush that Old Man
had dived for!
"So!" cried Old Man to the berry bush, "you fooled me, did you!" He jumped up
and picked out a stick and attacked the berry bush, beating it until he had
knocked off all its berries.
"There!" he cried, as he ate the berries, "that is your punishment for
fooling Old Man. After this, even the women will beat you!"
It was so. From that time, whenever the Indian women wanted berries, they
beat the bullberry bushes with sticks, having first spread blankets to catch
the berries. Old Man taught them that.
brownies.192003.019.jpg
THE JUDGE
YESTERDAY, dear Children of mine, I spoke on a
painful subject, to wit,— on being whipped. Now, may I confess
that my heart was not in my sermon? I hate whippings.
And so today I am going to ask you to sit beside me, on my bench,
while I summon Father and Mother, and give them a piece of my mind.
Won't that be jolly! I know you'll like it.
Very well. James, you may sit here. Please don't
be so stiff in that collar. Try to look natural. Adelaide may sit beside
you—never mind the powder puff, Adelaide. Now, Billikins,
after you're through squirming, here's my knee; and Billie, to amuse
you; yes, I know, Billie, you'd like to put in a word to Father,but you
won't.—I shall do the talking. And even little Gertrude will
refrain from comments and making faces.
Now, all quiet—try to be dignified. Laugh, of course. but don't
whoop.
Oyez, Oyez! The Judge commands Father and Mother to stand before his
court.
TO FATHER
I TRUST you have listened carefully, while I have spoken in your behalf
to your four children. I have put the case just as strong as I can. But
I want to say right here and now,— that I am afraid you are
using artificial pain for discipline a great deal more than you have any
business to. I do not doubt that a well-placed and timely spanking has
its use in this world; but I am absolutely certain that a regular rule
of continuous blows, will not make men and women of your children. This
is a world full of sorrows, and the sorrows of your children, although
they may seem trivial to you, are just as tragic to them as any of your
own. When, therefore, you increase their sorrows, do it with Thought and
Object.
Think, first, if the thing you have in view could not be gotten by other
means. If Billy stays too long on the hill, he could be kept from going
tomorrow or the next day. That negative punishment would be a good
deal more impressive than blows. But there is a method even better
than that,—Billy has certain ambitions and there are certain
big things which he wants to do. Take some particular thing, and show
him how returning home at four o'clock promptly is going to help him to
realize it. This is a case of neither blows nor retribution, but of
positive stimulation by ambition and ideals.
But this Man of Might, takes Time and Thought, and Time and Thought are
things that you do not give your children in near as large measure as
you ought.
TO MOTHER
HAVE you ever bitten a rotten apple. or swallowed a spoiled Brazil nut?
It is not nice. Neither are spoiled children. I think many of us would
be willing to eat our share of such kiddies if we could improve their
actions. Mothers mostly are responsible for such spoiling, and the
mothers of these second and third generations of colored children are
particularly guilty. They know how hard their lives and their parents'
lives were; they know how many rebuffs and difficulties their children
are going to meet; and they try and make this up to them by giving them
all the candy they want, by letting them be just as saucy as they will,
and by letting them run around wherever they want to.
Now of all the ways of training children's characters to meet
difficulties which they are going to find in the present world of the
color-line, these are the very worst. What you want to do is to
strengthen, not weaken, your children. Make them serious, not frivolous;
make them thoughtful, not rattle-brained.
This will call for judicious punishment now and then, for careful
arrangement of rewards and denials, and, above all, for thoughtful co-
operation with the father in the spending of
brownies.192003.020.jpg
money and time. Finally, talk to
William. He's got a lot of sense. Consult with Wilhelmina. She knows a
good many things. And even Billikins and Billy are interesting conversationalists, if you are honest and straight-forward with them.
I WAS on the street car the other day. There came in a grandmother; a
little girl, of perhaps four; two boys, of six or eight; and the
mother and father. I knew their story in a minute. Grandmother did the
work and spoiled the baby. Mother was fat and impatient. Father spent a
few hours out of twenty-four at home. One of the little boys had several
pretty cat-tails. He very generously gave a stalk to the little girl.
She tore it to pieces and threw it on the floor. Then she wanted another
stalk. He rightfully refused. Grandmother tried to settle matters, but
was unable. Mother flew in, grabbed all the little boy's cat-tails, gave
the best one to the little girl, and shoved the others back into the
little boy's hands. He cried bitterly. She informed him that he would
get a whipping when he got home.
What does that little boy think, and what has he a right to think? And
what is going to become of that little girl!
Father and Mother may go.
AND NOW, CHILDREN, What shall we do about it?
"Whip 'em," pipes Billie.
"Shame on you!" says Adelaide; "What a naughty boy."
Yes, Billie, that was a naughty thing to say; and, James, it was a
naughty thing to think.
"I know!" says Gertrude—she lisps a wee bit —"teach
'em!"
Bravo! Gertrude, teach them; that's the ticket—teach the
parents.
"But how!" objects Adelaide, doubtfully.
Well, let's see. First, Gertrude, it will be your duty to make Mother
understand that when you feel bad, you feel just as bad as she feels
when she feels bad. She doesn't quite realize this. She thinks that your
hurts are always little hurts,—and, perhaps, they are; but
they don't feel little; fact is, they probably feel bigger than hers,
and hurting is a matter of feeling.
Quod erat demonstrandum," interrupts James, with
a voice of vast importance; but as Billie is eyeing him suspiciously, he
hastily adds, "That's Latin; and it means 'which was to be proven.' You
see, we are talking about feeling, and if hurting is feeling, why, then,
if a thing feels bad, it is bad."
"That settles it," says Billie; "No more dentist for me."
"Don't toothaches feel worse!" asked Adelaide.
"After all, there's nothing in the world but feeling,—is
there, Judge?"
I do not know. That is a vast question. But one more thing: How shall we
teach Father?
"Father," says James, "doesn't know how to play."
"He's forgotten," says Gertrude.
True, true! Poor, poor Father. Very good. —teach Father to
play. Who shall do this best —Billie or Billikins, James or
Adelaide or Gertrude?
The answer comes as one voice:
"Billikins"
Billikins is five years old!
brownies.192003.021.jpg
THE JURY
I RECEIVED THE BROWNIES' BOOK last week. I
think it is splendid. It is just exactly what I expected it to be, with
real stories, fairy stories, Judge and Jury and then a corner for
grown-ups. I shall be sending subscriptions for some of the members of
my Sunday School class soon, I believe.
LUCILE SPENCE. New York City.
My Aunt gave me THE BROWNIES' BOOK for a birthday present. I think it is
lovely. I am fourteen years old and I like to write stories, but I had
no hopes of ever seeing them in print. Now, perhaps, if I write a very
good one, you will let it appear in your magazine. I'm going to try.
SELMA FORD, Camden, N. J.
WHEN I grow up, I am going to have a newspaper or a magazine—I
don't know which, yet. I think THE BROWNIES' BOOK has a lot of class and
I'm awfully glad you started it. I am sure it will be a success, because
so many colored folks want to read about the things colored people do
and say. The part I like, though, is "As The Crow Flies"; you can learn
such a lot about the whole world in those little paragraphs. We have a
class in Current Events in our high school, and if you always publish
that part, I'd be willing to buy it just for that. You bet I'm going to
shine along the line of Current Events.
HARRY BLAKESLEE, Chicago, Ill.
I AM eleven years old, and I want to be an author. Would you tell me how
you went about it? Did you write a book first, or did you just send your
writings to the magazines? How do you get into the magazines, to start
with? I sent a very nice piece to an editor once, but he returned it.
That made me feel very sad, for I had spent a lot of time writing it
out. I like your BROWNIES' BOOK and I wish you would put one of my
pieces in it. Then, I feel, I could really see into my future.
HANNAH MAUDE BARNES, Richmond, Va,
My little sister Katie got her first copy of THE BROWNIES' BOOK the
other day. She is so proud of it, because it is her very own. She goes
about hugging it in her arms and we have the hardest time to persuade
her to let us see it. She can't get over the little Queen of Abyssinia.
She hears lots of fairy tales and knows all about princes and queens,
and so on. She says, "that little girl don't look very old; maybe when
I'm as big as her, I'll be a creen, too." We are
all interested in the magazine. I am fifteen and I like it as much as
Katie.
RUTH HALLIWELL, Boston, Mass.
COULD you take time to suggest a small library for me? Or if your
couldn't, do you know anybody who could? I want to know a great deal
about colored people. I think when I finish school I shall go to Africa,
and work there in some way. If I decide to do this I ought to know a
great deal about our people and all the places where they live. all over
the world, don't you think so? My father is always saying that a great
many wonderful things are going to happen to Negroes within the next
twenty-five years, and I want to be able to understand and appreciate
them.
GEORGE MAX SIMPSON, Toronto, Canada.
I GET so tired of hearing only of white heroes and celebrating holidays
in their honor. I think every year we ought to have parades or some sort
of big time on Douglass' birthday and on the anniversary of Crispus
Attucks' death. I wish you'd say something about this in the BROWNIES'
BOOK. All the colored girls in my class said they wished so too when I
told them I was going to write you
CLAUDIA MOORE, Pittsburgh, Pa.
brownies.192003.022.jpg
[illustration - Nine of "The Jury"—Three Have Gone Out ]
brownies.192003.023.jpg
AT THE ZOO
JESSIE FAUSET
My mother said to me, "Now, mind,
To animals be always kind;
To every creature, bird or beast,
Show courtesy, to say the least!"
And then she took me to the Zoo,
(She said she'd nothing else to do,)
And showed me beasts of many styles,
From prairie dogs to crocodiles,
And take it from me, when I say
I didn't feel like getting gay,
Or doing them a bit of harm.
I wouldn't touch them for a farm.
The lion was the first I saw,
I just looked at his awful paw
And thought, "I'll never trouble you."
I thought that of the tiger, too;
He was a handsome looking fellow.
And striped all black and real bright yellow.
But I could never play with him,
His look just made my poor head swim.
The elephant—they called him "Dunk,"
Looked mild, but had a squirmy trunk.
The panther and the wolf and bear,
Threw into me an awful scare.
(The bear looked pretty good, 'tis true.
But s'pose he started hugging you!)
The foxes didn't need their labels—
I'd read of them in Aesop's
Fables!
The hippopotamus and his friend,
Rhinoceros, stood my hair on end.
The python and the anaconda,
Just made me grow of kindness, fonder.
brownies.192003.024.jpg
I might have liked the dromedary—
But oh, his manner was so airy!
And, too, I fancied the giraffe,
His long neck really made me laugh.
My mother said, "Come see the birds,
They're just too nice and sweet for words."
She showed me, first, a horned owl—
That really is an awful fowl!
He blinked at me, as though to say,
"I'll bite your fingers. Get away!"
And then I say a pelican,
With long, sharp duck-bill. Well, he can
Be sure I'll never trouble him,
And where he swims, I'll never swim.
And next I saw a cassowary,
Who looked to me a bit contrary,
"Of bird and beast, I've had my fill,"
I said, "Please take me home, I'm ill.
I promise to take your advice,
You'll never have to tell me twice."
But after I was home, in bed,
I pulled the covers 'round my head,
And saw those creatures at the Zoo,
And thought, "No wonder that they're blue,
And look so cross and mean and mad,
They have enough to make them sad,
If I were locked up in a cage,
I'd just be in an awful rage.
Perhaps they've children far away,
Or friends who watch for them each day;
Perhaps they dream at night, they're free
In forests green and shadowy;
And then they wake to dull despair,—
And little boys who poke and stare.
Right then and there, I charged my mind,
To be to all God's creatures kind.
And kind to them I'll surely be
If only they'll be kind to me!
brownies.192003.025.jpg
A STRANGE COUNTRY
PHILIP came rushing into the sitting-room,
shouting: "Have you heard of the strangest of lands on the map,—
The dear little, queer little, Island of Yap
"What on earth are you saying?" asked Betty.
"Just something I heard a boy singing in school today, about the Island of
Yap. He must have made it up, because there isn't really any such place."
"Indeed there is," said Betty positively; "I saw something about it once in
a book,"
Philip laughed, "If that isn't just like you! Of course, you'd think it was
true because you saw it in a book. Tell me where the island is, and maybe
I'll believe you."
But that was more than Betty could do. "I can't remember where it is," she
said regretfully; "I don't think the book told."
"I guess it didn't," said Philip, "Smarty," he teased her. "Let me
see— For a good silver dime I'd give you a rap, For pretending
there's any such island as Yap."
Betty's face clouded. She hated to have Philip catch her up on anything, for
he kept it up such a long time. As it was, he repeated the words of the
little verse he had just made up, again and again.
Luckily, Uncle Jim came in just then. "Why, you're quite a poet, aren't you,
Phil?" And then he caught sight of Betty.
"Why, what's the matter with my little girl?" he asked. "Has some one been
disturbing her?"
"Oh!" cried Betty, happy now, for Uncle Jim was her staunch champion.
"Philip's been making fun of me. He says there's no such place as the
Island of Yap, and I say there is."
"So do I," said her uncle.
"Goody! Goody!" and Betty hopped up and down. "Now, Mr, Philip!"
"Oh, get out," said Philip inelegantly. "He's only saying that to make you
feel good, but [illustration - "Daddy, may I have this nickel?" ] there isn't any such place just the same. You can't tell me where
it is, Uncle."
"Indeed I can," replied Uncle Jim: "Do you remember that day I told you about
the Philippine Islands, and how a group called the Bisayas lies right
through the middle of them?"
Both the children nodded "yes" vigorously.
"And I even remember the names of the Bisayas," said
Betty.—"Panay, Negroes, Leite, Cebu, Samar, and Bohol."
"Good," said Uncle Jim. "You make me think I'm a pretty fine teacher. Well,
directly east of Cebu, south of the Island of Japan and north of the Island
of New Guinea, lies the baby Island of Yap. It belongs to a group of islands
called the Carolines."
"How funny," said Betty, "to name islands Carolines as though they were
girls!"
"Wait," rejoined her uncle, "there was a reason. Many years ago, in 1527,
to be exact, some Portuguese under their leader, Diego da Rocha, seized
these islands from their inhabitants for Portugal. But later, in 1686, a
Spaniard, Admiral Francisco Lazeano, took over the islands and called them
the Carolines, in honor of the King of Spain, Carolus."
"Well, which country rules the Yappers now?" asked Philip, who was always
very much interested in forms of government.
"Neither. The Spaniards ruled it for a long
brownies.192003.026.jpg
[illustration - Brown Belles of Yap
Laucawheelu 1920 ] while, but in 1875 Bismarck, the famous Chancellor of Germany.
tried to claim it for his country. There was a good deal of talk between
Spain and Germany—even His Holiness, Pope Leo XIII, took part in
the discussion, which lasted for years. But finally, in 1899, Spain sold the
tiny island along with the rest of the group, for $3,500,000."
"Gee whiz!" said Philip. "The Germans certainly wanted those islands. Do
tell me what made them so Important?"
"No, no!" interrupted Betty. "Tell us first what kind of people live in Yap?"
"Well," said Uncle Jim, "like the Filipinos, the Yaps belong to the Colored
Peoples of the world and to the race known as the Malay race. They are dark
brown, with almost black eyes, high cheek bones, and wavy black hair. And
they are rather short and slender."
"Now it's my turn," said Philip. "What kind of government do they have?"
"There are two classes." Uncle Jim told him,
brownies.192003.027.jpg
"the slaves and the aristocrats. And
the only way you can distinguish between these two classes, is that the
aristocrats wear a comb made of long, narrow strips of bamboo, which spread
out like a fan and are fastened through the middle by a peg. A slave would
not dare wear one of these combs."
"How do the girls dress?" asked Betty. "I imagine they have wonderful
styles."'
"They do," replied her uncle, "but nothing that you would care to copy. There
is a plant growing in Yap called the pandanus, which has very long leaves.
These leaves are shredded and put together to form a skirt, and this, with a
pair of earrings, forms the whole costume of a lady of Yap. The boys and men
wear a strip of cloth around the waist."
Both children were immensely amused, especially Philip, who had grown so
within a year that his father had had to get him an entire new outfit.
"Clothes don't cost very much in Yap, I guess," he said with feeling.
His uncle laughed, too. "That's hard to tell." he said. "for money in Yap is
so different from the money we use. It is made from stone which is cut from
quarries many, many miles away. The pieces of money are of different sizes,
ranging from six inches to twelve feet in diameter, with a hole through
the center so that they may be carried on a pole or strong cord."
"Well!" gasped Betty, "if that isn't the funniest thing! Why, Uncle Jim,
how do people ever carry them? Some of the pieces must weigh tons and tons!"
"They do," was her uncle's prompt rejoinder. "Sometimes they weigh as much
as five tons! But, of course, they do not carry them around. If a man has a
house too small to be cluttered up with his money. he keeps it out in his
front-yard. And it is perfectly safe there, because people almost never
steal on the Island of Yap. Here is another funny thing: if a man loses his
wealth in such a way that it can't be found again, he's still given credit
for it by his neighbors. So that a Yapper who drops five or six tons of
money in the sea—by accident, of course —will be just as
much of a plutocrat as ever. Better look that word up, Philip."
"I'm going to," said Philip. "but tell me first why Germany wanted to buy
Yap and the other Carolines."
"That's a good question," said his uncle approvingly.
brownies.192003.028.jpg
"The Germans wanted the
islands because they made such convenient trading-stations for German
vessels sailing in the Pacific. And Yap in particular was wanted because it
makes a fine cable base."
"But all that happened years ago," said Betty. "Why are people talking about
it now!"
"Because the United States Naval Department wants to get established in
Yap. Experts say that this little island would make a splendid cable and
radio center and thus link San Francisco with Honolulu. Owing to the
outcome of the war, small islands and colonies are to be redistributed,
and this seems as good an opportunity as any for the United States to get
possession of this important trading base. Any more questions, Miss
Betty?"
"Yes," said Betty. "Tell me, Uncle Jim, how du the people of Yap make
change?"
"There!" said Uncle Jim, "after I had boned up so on the Island of Yap, she
asks me a question that I can't possibly answer. What shall we do.
Philip?"
His nephew thought a moment, then he chanted,
"We'll have to go globe trotting over the map, And take her to visit the
island of Yap."
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PLAYTIME
"All in the Family"A Game
Dora Cole Norman
(To be played at home with our family and little friends, as well as at
parties).
Materials:
- 1. As many sheets of paper as there are players
- 2. Pencil
- 3. Drinking glass
- 4. Small coin
Circles, as distributed to players
Preparation:
Draw large circle. Use drinking glass, if no compass is available. Cut out
and fold into eights.
Place coin in centre of large circle, and draw small circle.
Number for answers, as shown in illustration.
Let's begin!
Arrange players in semi-circle around the room. Provide each with a pencil,
and paper circle.
Leader: "This is a word-game, called 'All in the
Family', because all the words we are to write must have the same end
sounds, or rhyme. This is our Family Circle. I have chosen a family name. It
is the name of an act done three times a day. What is it?"
(Different answers will be given. Someone will surely answer, "eat.")
Leader: "This, then, shall be the 'Eat Family'.
Please print the name in the middle of the smaller circle.
brownies.192003.028.jpg
(All write the new name.)
Leader: "All members of the 'Eat Family' must have
similar names,—that is, sounds that rhyme with eat, and, of
course, similarly spelled. You can build these names by placing one
letter, or two letters, before the family sound, e.g., n-eat. Not more than two letters may be added at a time.
Now try ot think of eight other words with the same family sounds. Write them
in the circle, under the numbers. Five minutes is allowed for the game."
(Ten minutes, if the players are very little folks.)
Each player now passes his circle to the neighbor on the right, and corrects
as the Leader spells.
Neat, wheat, seat, heat, meant, treat, beat, cheat, feat, bleat
Any of these words may be accepted.
Circles, when the words are "All in the Family."
The answers may be given in any order. To the player scoring the highest,
award some prize, circular in shape, (small cake, apple, orange, round box
of candy, etc.)
The nice thing about this game is that you may choose your own family name.
As the prize winner to make a choice and conduct another game.
Note: Let me know if you play
this game and how you like it. I shall be glad to know you and your prize
winner, too.
brownies.192003.029.jpg
[illustration - A Community "Sing" in Louisville, Ky. ]
brownies.192003.030.jpg
Little People of the Month
There's no need having talent, Tommikins, if
you don't use it, and just make people happier. William James Harvey,
3rd, can sing and recite; but he's ambitious! He's learned over a
hundred pieces; so, when the Liberty Celebration was held in
Philadelphia, Pa., at the Academy of Music, this little boy appeared on
the program. During the past spring and fall seasons, he gave nine
recitals in churches or Philadelphia and New Jersey. William is just six
little years old.
LETA B. LEWIS is an "A" pupil, in both conduct and proficiency. She's in
the fifth term grammar school, at Omaha. Neb. During her entire school
course, she has received only one "B." When some colored parents
complained that their children were not being treated fairly in school,
this little girl was exhibited to prove that there's no difference in
treatment; it's just whether or not you study, my dear.
LISTEN, Tommy! Charles Augustus Stewart, Jr., has been appearing in
public as a violinist since he was eight years of age. He gave a recital
at Wilmington, N.C., not so very long ago, and this was his program:
"Melody of Love," by Engelmann; "Pizzicata Serenade," Op. 45, No.2, by Franklin; "Sing
Me to Sleep," (lst Violin) Duet, by Greene; "Merry Eyes Waltz," Op. 21,
No. 4, by Kuenzel; "Isle D'Amour," by Edwards; "Iris," by Renard;
"Rackety Coo," from "Katinka"; Selections from Operetta "Cinderella,"
with Orchestra (1st Violin), by Nixon.
Is it not a wonderful thing to be able to make music? And such music!
WOULDN'T you like your school to win a silver trophy, bearing your name?
I know you would, Tomasina. And you have Helena Harper to prove that
it's not impossible. Of course, Helena studies, —and she's not
a slip-shod pupil, either; but an honest little worker. Then came the
essay contest on, "Why We Need New School Buildings". Helena took the
test, and among 5,000 essays by grammar school pupils, Helena's won the
trophy.
Helena is thirteen years of age and in the graduating class of the Mary
J. Watson School, in Sacramento, Cal.
WILLIAM KIRK COFIELD, at the age of sixteen, is senior patrol leader and
troop instructor for twenty first class colored Boy Scouts, at Glen
Cove, L.I. He passed all tests before the Court of Honor and received
his First Class Badge, February, a year ago.
Last summer William played second base on his troop's base ball team,
when they won the champion silver cup over eight white troops. Last
winter, when the Lincoln House Dramatic Club, of Glen Cove, presented
Gilbert Parker's western drama, "She of the Triple Chevron," William
played the star role, and his acting received favorable comment in
white newspapers. And William finds time enough after he has
finished his High School lessons, to be Secretary of Calvary A.M.E.
Sunday School, and Treasurer of the Lincoln Settlement Y.M.C.A. Red
Triangle Club.
Some boy!
Be sure to send us news about the kiddies who excel.
brownies.192003.031.jpg
[illustration - William K. Cofield Leta B. Lewis Helena Harper William J. Harvey
Charles A. Stewart, Jr. ]
brownies.192003.032.jpg
[illustration - A Students' Play in Atlanta, Ga.]
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A STORY OF A FORMER SLAVE BOY
ARTHUR HUFF FAUSET
In slavery days, colored boys and girls could not
go to school. Very often they were not even permitted to learn how to
read. Nevertheless, many of the young slaves were determined to learn
somehow, no matter in what manner. Such a boy was Booker T. Washington;
another was Frederick Douglass; still another was Blanche K. Bruce.
When Blanche was a boy, he had to work as a slave on a plantation in
Mississippi. Like many a slaveowner, his master needed him too [illustration - Blanche K. Bruce] much to allow him any time to get an education. But young Blanche
made up his mind he was going to learn his abc's the best way he could, and
get all the knowledge that was possible for himself, so that when he became
a man he might help his people and his country. Every spare minute he
could get away from his slave toil, he would go off to himself and work
hard over the few books he was able to get hold of. In this way he learned
quite a little bit.
In 1863 Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves throughout the entire United States,
Blanche Bruce was a free man. How glad he was that he had studied hard while
he was a slave! Now he had a chance to use his learning.
People began to take notice of this earnest, bright, young fellow. They
continued to admire him, and encouraged him in his efforts to rise in the
world. Each passing year found him a little higher than before, and the time
came when the people of Mississippi, both white and colored, called on him
to take one of the greatest positions a state has to offer,—to be
a Senator from the State of Mississippi, in the great Congress at
Washington. Here, with one other Senator from Mississippi, and a number of
Senators from all the other states of the Union, Bruce was to help make the
laws for Mississippi, and the whole United States. Bruce and his friends
rejoiced that he had studied so earnestly when a youth, that he was able to
take up the big task at Washington.
While he was in Washington, assisting Congress and the President of the
United States to make our laws, word came to him of his old slavemaster. He
was no longer rich but was heavily in debt, and was so poor and friendless
that the State of Mississippi had decided to send him to the poor house, a
place where no respectable man cares to go. Bruce felt sorry for his former
master. He set to work immediately to help him. Through a friend, he
learned that at Vicksburg, Mississippi, a man was needed to inspect the
ships as they came into port. Bruce saw his chance to assist the aged
slaveowner.
He went directly to the President of our country, and asked a favor of him.
"My dear Bruce," said the President, "I'm only too glad to be able to serve
you. What can I do for you?"
Bruce replied, "Mr. President, there is a position open at the port of
Vicksburg, Mississippi. May I name an old friend of mine to take the
place?"
"That's a small favor you ask," said the President. "Of course, your friend
may nave it. You may name him any time you wish,"
Bruce went away happy.
brownies.192003.034.jpg
But the thought occurred to him that his proud old master would, doubtless,
rather go to the poorhouse than feel that he owed his rescue to a Negro who
once had been his slave.
"He must never know I got the job for him," said Bruce to himself.
He straightway went to the other Senator from Mississippi, a white man, and
told him the story.
"And I want you to name him for the position," Bruce said, "for if he
knows that I, a colored man and his former slave, named him, he will feel so
humiliated, he won't accept the position."
The other Senator agreed, and he himself named the former slaveowner for the
position at Vicksburg.
You may be sure Bruce's old master was happy when he learned that he did not
have to go to the poorhouse, but that he had a fine position, instead.
He never knew to the day he died that it was his former slave, Blanche K.
Bruce, who had saved him from disgrace.
brownies.192003.034.jpg
[illustration - Graduates of Dixie Hospital, Hampton, Va. ]
