The Tar Baby and the Tomahawk: Race and Ethnic Images in American Children's Literature, 1880-1939

The Brownies' Book
May, 1920
Fifteen Cents a Copy
One Dollar and a Half a Year


This is
The Brownies' Book

A Monthly Magazine For the Children of the Sun


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
2 West 13th Street New York, N. Y .



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. MAY, 1920 No.5


COVER PICTURE. ""Winding the May Pole." Drawn by Laura Wheeler
THE FAIRIES' FLOWER GARDEN. A Story. Grace White. Illustrated by Hilda Wilkinson 134
MAY-QUEEN. A Poem. Wendell Phillips Gladden, Jr 133
THE QUESTION-BOX. A Poem.Eulalie Spence 133
THE LITTLE ORPHANS. A Playlet. Daisy Cargile Reed. Illustrated by Hilda Wilkinson 134
THAT MEDDLESOME BIRD. A Poem. Annette Christine Brown. Decorated by Albert A. Smith 137
THE GROWN-UPS CORNER. Illustrated 139
THE JURY. Illustrated 140
OUR LITTLE JURY. Nine pictures 141
MAY BASKET. A Poem. Written and Decorated by Mary Effie Lee 142
MAY BASKET. A Poem. Written and Decorated by Mary Effie Lee
SPRING SONGS. Verses. Jessie Pelmet. Illustrated by Albert A. Smith 146
TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE. A True Story. Illustrated 149
CHILDREN OF THE SUN. A Poem. Madeline G. Allison 152
LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE MONTH. Little Fairies. Daisy Cargile Reed 153
PLAYTIME. Some African Riddles. Compiled by A. O. Stafford. Decorated by Marcellus Hawkins 154
THE FIRST GAME OF MARBLES. A Story. Joseph S. Cotter 156
SPRING! A Picture 157
OUR LITTLE FRIENDS. Three Poems. Illustrated. A PRESENT FOR MY DOLLY, Pocahontas Foster; THE MOON, Marjorie McKinney; BROWN EYES, Georgia D. Johnson 158


  • 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.

[illustration - Mr. Rockefeller Poses for the Caddies at Ormond Beach, Fla. Underwood & Underwood ]


The Brownies' Book

Vol 1. May 20, 1920 No.5


GRANDMA CAREY, a little, old white-haired lady of the village, had the most beautiful flower garden of all. No one had flowers to bloom as early as Grandma Carey and nobody's lived as long; and no one, not even in the whole village, had flowers to match Grandma Carey's in color. Her flowers had the richest hues, her rambling roses, the pinkest tint, and her pansies were almost dazzling in their bright color. When anyone was sick a flower from Grandma Carey's garden was the first aid to recovery.

When visitors asked Grandma Carey how she obtained such glorious colors, she would laugh and her little eyes would twinkle merrily as she said, "Land sakes, I don't do nothin'; that garden belongs to the fairies:"

No wonder Grandma Carey had such a beautiful garden, the fairies lived there!

But soon there came a morning when the flowers didn't hold up their heads, but hung them in shame. What could have happened? All the children and even the grown-ups of the village came hurrying to Grandma Carey's cottage. And this is how she explained it.

For a long, long time the fairies had been planning and preparing for the Queen's annual dance. They collected all the sweet honey and nectar and all the bright golden pollen for miles and miles around. For this year at the Queen's annual dance they were to entertain with great ceremony and pomp, the King of the Gnomes. Everything was ready, from the sweet food of the fairies to the beautiful fairy carriages which were driven by golden-winged beetles. And the King of the Gnomes didn't arrive! Imagine the anger and disappointment of the fairies! So they neglected their homes, (which are the roses and pansies and nearly all the flowers), to meet at the fairy palace to talk and wonder about the King of the Gnomes.

"But," said Grandma Carey, slowly, "I know why the King of the. Gnomes didn't arrive on time. While crossing a meadow he happened to notice a tiny, neglected field and in the center a tiny, neglected cottage standing all alone. And it looked so forlorn and forgotten that the King of the Gnomes expressed a desire to visit it.

"'But,' said the Count of the Gnomes, 'we are on our way to visit Her Majesty, The Queen of the Fairies:'

"'I wish to visit that cottage,' said the King, and I shall do so.'

[illustration - "We have work here", said the King softly.]

"And so the King of the Gnomes visited the forlorn looking cottage. If one would call the outside forlorn, one should see the inside, that was most forlorn! For on a cot in the corner of the room lay a little girl moaning and tossing in pain, crying always, incessantly for flowers, bright flowers.

"'We have work here,' said the King softly. 'Let us begin.' So all the King's men started to work and they worked harder and harder. Now when one works hard one accomplishes something; and the King's men really did accomplish something. For the next morning the little field around the cottage was cleared of its rubbish and weeds and in their place grew beautiful, bright flowers! Imagine the surprise and joy of little Margaret Marnie when she saw her lovely garden!

"And so today when the King left, Margaret Marnie was sitting on the steps softly talking and caressing her bright flowers. Margaret Marnie was well again. Now," continued Grandma Carey, "the King of the Gnomes is on his way to visit the Queen of the Fairies and when he arrives the Queen will forget her temper. The King will apologize and all will be peace again. For the King of the Gnomes is going to ask for the Queen's hand in marriage and I think she will accept. Their honeymoon will be spent visiting Margaret Marnie's garden, then they will come back to live forever in my garden. When they do, then my flowers will become beautiful again."

Thus Grandma Carey ended her story. Yes, even as she spoke the flowers raised their heads; their color returned, the King of the Gnomes had arrived.

Once more Grandma Carey had the most beautiful garden of all. And strange to say, Grandma Carey's flowers never lost their bloom again, and so we conclude that the King of the Gnomes and the Queen of the Fairies are living very happily in their beautiful garden of flowers.



MY lady brown
Now wears a crown
Of pink and red, red roses;
Black curls flow down
On gauzy gown,
While she in smiles reposes.
Green shades and blue,
And every hue
Are found in scented bowers;
Where maidens prance
And skip and dance
Before her throne of flowers.
Each maiden trips
With tinted strips
From May-pole fast unfolding;
And so the scene
The dusky queen
Sits quietly beholding.
And still they play
Until the day
In joy serenely closes;
My lady brown
Has worn a crown
Of pink and red, red roses.


The Question-Box


WHENE'ER we go a-walking,
Her wee hand tucked in mine,
Those dainty curls all dancing,
Feet skipping 'long in time,
I mark her eyes so eager,
Her mouth a perfect "O",
Then rack my brain to answer
Those things I do not know.


"Would motor-cars sail overhead,
If they had wings of black and red?
Would p'licemen 'rest their little boys
If they should catch them stealing toys?"
And should I hesitate or pause
To find a reason or a cause,
She'd never more believe in me,
And so I answer cheerfully.




Toyshop. At back of stage, have arranged a screen. Back of this screen, have seven or eight little boys, standing with only their heads visible above the screen. These little boys are to wear on their heads either false faces or animal heads. In front of this screen, should be a long work-bench or table. Seated at this table are a number of boys, dressed in overalls, all busy with tools, making toys. The TOYMAKER is seated at desk, looking over his books. The work-table should be full of toys. The boys should beat tables, making plenty of noise with hammers and tools when the curtain goes up.

No sales today. How will one live, with food so high and materials so dear? They told me that American made toys would help whip the Germans. Now Germany is licked, and here I am with a bunch of non-essentials on my hands and haven't had a sale in two days. Ah, well, I make lots of fun for the children, anyway ; so I should worry.

[SONG: "I'm Father Fun." Sung by TOYMAKER and assistants. Numbers of neighborhood children come running in.]

Hello, Mr. Toymaker; have you a new toy to show us today?


No new ones, but you are always welcome to look at the old ones. Some day, when you are real good children, I will show you the wonderful automatic toys which I keep in my Toyland, upstairs.


They must be very wonderful, if they are prettier than all of these.


O yes, they can sing, talk, and walk. I have been working many years to perfect them.


Please, Mr. Toymaker, take us to that Toyland, now!

[SONG: "Come Along to Toy Town," by the children and the little boys behind the screen. Have each child carry a toy. Boys behind screen, now come out and sing with the children, the boys still wearing animal heads. Enter PURCHASER.]

Have you an automatic monkey?

[Showing a toy monkey.]

We have just what you want. This monkey is a bargain, and very fine.


O no, I want a great big monkey, something very natural.


I'm afraid we have nothing to suit you.


Mr. Toymaker, we have just finished that big automatic monkey; perhaps that might suit the lady?


Fine; bring it here.

[Brings on the monkey, Should be a boy dressed as a monkey. SONG "The Monkey Doodle-Dom" Sung by children and assistants, with boy stunts. Children go out. Enter WOMAN with her spoiled boy, blubbering, and crying, Boy should be fat, overdressed, always eating.]

Mr. Toymaker, haven't you some kind of very costly toy for my dear precious? [To Boy] Won't mother's precious baby stop crying? Want this pretty picture? [Hands him a picture.]


I just hate pictures! [Tears up picture, and misbehaves in every way possible.]


He has a room full of toys at home, but he soon tires of them. I have plenty of money, and my only wish in life is to make my precious little boy happy.


[Aside] Of all things, that is the limit. As much suffering as there is in this world and as many poor children as there are in need of bread, her only wish in life is "to make her
precious boy happy." Her precious, indeed! If I could have that precious of hers across my knee and administer to him an old fashioned flogging—like mother used to give—with my razor strop, I'd make a man out of him. [To Woman] How's this Teddy Bear?


I don't want it! I [illustration - "I just hate pictures!"] just hate Teddy Bears. [Throws Teddy Bear across room. ]


Here's a very fine engine.


I don't want it! I just hate engines. Say, mister, have you got a bubble pipe that will blow bubbles as big as this house?


I have lots of bubble pipes. Maybe, if you try them all, you may find such a one among them. [To Assistant] Tell the children to bring back my bubble pipes, — they're forever blowing bubbles.

[SONG: "Blowing Bubbles." Enter BOY PURCHASER.]

What can I do for you, my little man?


Mr. Toymaker, the boys at school talk so much about their grandmothers. Grandmothers must be wonderful. I haven't a real grandmother, but father gave me this picture of her. Have you a doll that looks like that?


How's this one?


Ah, fine! Now I can have a grandmother in my dreams and someone to call "Granny."

[SONG: "Granny."]

Well, madam, I have shown you everything except some wonderful mechanical dolls, but the cheapest of these is five hundred dollars, and up.


I don't care what they cost, if they will interest my precious boy and make him happy.


[To Assistant] Bring in those expensive dolls.

[Very tiny children sing: "I Want a Doll."

I have a few more toys in the annex, which I will show you. Just step this way.

[Exit TOYMAKER, WOMAN, and BOY, who is lagging, eating apples and being coaxed by WOMAN. Enter two ORPHANS, a boy and a girl, cold, ragged, and hungry.]

Poor little sister, you are so tired. Lie here. [Takes off coat and spreads it on floor for sister to lie upon.] I am sure I can find some bread in such a happy place as this. Ah! here is an apple. Eat it; it will keep you until some kindhearted person comes and gives us bread. [BOY ORPHAN sits in a chair, GIRL ORPHAN leans on his lap: he puts his arm around her, she goes to sleep.]


My story book says the blue-bird brings happiness. I wish I could find a blue-bird now, for we are so cold and hungry. [BOY ORPHAN falls asleep. SONG: "Blue-bird." BLUE-BIRD enters.]


I am Blue-bird. I can tell you how to find happiness.


[Still asleep.]Then do tell me how to find happiness for my little sister and me.


Whatsoever things, therefore, ye desire when ye pray, believe that ye have them, and ye shall have them. [BLUE-BIRD exits, singing chorus of "Blue-bird." BOY and GIRL ORPHANS kneel in prayer. Enter ANGELIC MESSENGER.]


I have come, in answer to your prayer.


Messenger of God, we ask of you to bring us happiness. If you will send us a home and someone to love us, we will be very happy.


A home you shall have and love, too; for there is no happiness without love.

[Exit ANGELIC MESSENGER, chanting "Evening Prayer." BOY ORPHAN slowly awakes, looking surprised, dazed, and then happy.]

Sister, wake up! Did you see them? A pretty blue-bird. like mother used to tell us about, came and told us to pray for happiness, and an Angel Messenger appeared and promised us a home with someone to love us.


[Enter TOYMAKER, WOMAN and BOY.] And where did you come from, little folks; where is your home?


We have no home. Father was killed in the war, and mother died last week of influenza. We were so lonely, we started out to find some bread and happiness. When we saw the bright lights and the pretty toys through the window, we thought surely here we would find happiness. [BOY starts towards the BOY ORPHAN.]


Come away, my precious; you must not go so near such dirty waifs! [To ORPHANS.] You poor little children, I am a very rich woman, and am very generous to you poor people. You say you are looking for happiness? Then I will give you all these expensive toys, which my dear precious doesn't seem to appreciate or want. [Gives toys to ORPHANS, BOY ORPHAN looks disappointed.]


But, lady, we are hungry and cold and the Blue-bird and the Messenger said we would find here a home and someone to love us and then we would be very happy.


Say, Ma, may I take this boy home? I want someone to play with. I want a sure-enough boy to play with. I don't want all those dolls. They're for girls to play with. What's the use of boxing gloves, and nobody to box? What's the use of a base-ball bat, and nobody to play ball with? Come on home with me, boy, and we will be pals! [GIRL ORPHAN clings to brother.]


Well, of all things! Then we'll take home both children, and the little girl can have these pretty toys and dolls, and we'll have a very happy family.

[SONG: "Come Along to Toy Town." Have each group march on the stage, singing. Form a pretty group-picture. Any new popular sang which will fit the occasion may be substituted for the songs mentioned throughout the play.]




THERE'S a little bird that comes when the weather gets warm,
'Long 'bout the time the corn rows seem so long;
If you stop to rest a minute he begins to scream and storm
And he sings an awful tantalizing song.
He cocks his head and looks at you in such a sassy way,
"La-zee-ness will ki-i-ill yer!" is what he seems to say.


I wouldn't mind his singing, if he wouldn't sing that song,
For I know it's jest to be a-teasing me.
Why some days I'm up at sunrise working steady all day long,
And a-hustling jest as long as I can see.
An' 'at meddl'some o' bird he sets a-swinging on a limb,
"La-zee-ness will ki-i-ill yer!" is all I get from him.


I woke up soon one morning before time to start the day,
And thought I'd lie awake awhile in bed.
I soon went off to sleep again but didn't go to stay,
For that meddler woke me screaming overhead.
He was looking in my window from his perch upon a tree,
"La-zee-ness will ki-i-ill yer!" he was singing down to me.


Oh! I got so awful mad that I jumped up out of bed
And grabbed my shoe and threw it in the tree.
"I hope you'll die of meddling, you old nuisance, you!"
I said,
But he dodged my shoe and shook his head at me.
He looked like he was saying, "Gonna lie in bed all day?
"La-zee-ness will ki-i-ill yer!" he sang and flew away.



LAST week we were having Fun— or at least talking about it, which is about the same thing—well, no, Billy, but at least one kind of fun. And somebody—I forget who— suggested Writing and Swimming and Drawing and Making Things and Loving People.

I am going to take these backwards—

"Which is the way with Grown-ups," remarks William.

Which is; and the WHY is that the biggest thing should come first when you're talking but when you're working it comes last.

"Don't you think," asks Wilhelmina, sedately, "that it would be much better the other way round and help to make us all Great and Good? For instance, if I could BEGIN by being a Great Writer or a Wonderful Singer—or—"

Ah, yes! dear Wilhelmina. Beginnings then would be easy, but Endings! Never. There would be no vision ; no hopes, only regrets. You see, now, with the big task always ahead and always growing bigger—

"That's the fun of Making Things"

Yes. And of all the human joys it is the greatest—save one.

"I bet God was mighty tickled Saturday night—"

"Why, Billie!" warns William.

Never mind, William! Of course Billy is a bit irreverent but he's got the Truth. That next Sunday I'm sure the morning stars sang together and the Sons of God shouted for joy. Yes! Making Things—that's the ticket, that's the fun—making mud pies, making kites, building huts, building houses and cathedrals and pictures and souls.

"But," says William, "how about getting them ready-made?"

"Not nearly so much fun. I NEVER had a doll I loved as well or who was as intelligent as old rag Dinah," answers Wilhelmina.

"And that old kite I made," says Billie, "was not as pretty as Sam's store kite but it 'ud go a heap higher."

"But some bought things ARE better," persists William,—"like sleds and homes and sky-scrapers."

But somebody made them and had joy in their creation and we who bought them could only use them and never, never know the fierce, sweet, tired, biting joy of the "Alleluia, 'tis done!"

"Drawing is making, too," says Wilhelmina.

Yes—it's making Beauty and here we come to the great Trinity of Life—Truth and Beauty and—

"Love," says William.

Yes,—love. Love makes life. Love is life. Without Love we cannot live. God is love and Love is God.

"But what is love?" asks Billie.

Ask the wise Billikins. It's just what he feels for mother and father and sister and brother and the cat. It's cement which binds together the breaking selfishness of men. Babies are all love—

"Billikins ain't,"—says Billie positively.

Except for little angry insistent waves of self that come pouring over and drowning Love—

"An'," blurts Billie, "when you get Wilhelmina's size, them waves get awful big—don't they?"

"Billy, you're a horrid—little dear!"

Which shows the waves are not so mighty after all.

"And Swimming?" says William.

It doesn't seem to belong just in this class— and yet and yet! The world is water save for bits of land. Oceans of air and water stream around us all our lives and it is a marvelous wonder to penetrate them—to cleave through them—to dash them back and down and under and slip naked over their green and singing bubbles. I love to swim—don't you?

"I can't," says Billie.


And last, not least—Writing!

Get the habit.


The world is full of things to be touched. It's fuller of things seen—it's fullest of things thought. The Thought World is without end in space or time. And we grasp it by writing. It's hard to write well—that is clearly,—because Thoughts are always big, shadowy, dim things. But try getting hold of them and reducing them to words. Oh, but it's glorious. Did you ever keep a diary? Or write poems? Or stories?

My! but what you've missed in Fun!

Try it. Try it every day!



We Editors of THE BROWNIES' BOOK have adopted the Grown-Ups' Corner for ourselves this month, because there are one or two things we wish to say. Perhaps you think that the only sort of letter we care to publish in this department are letters praising this magazine, But that is not the case. Of course we are always glad to get such letters, very glad and extremely grateful. Getting out a magazine, especially a new kind of magazine—for we believe our venture is unique—is a difficult task and we are very much helped when some one takes the trouble to tell us that our efforts are appreciated.

But we want to be of help along every line . This is May; the end of the school-year is almost here. If you would like to ask us questions about the advisability of your boy working or playing in the summer, ask us. Ask us where or how children should spend their vacation, what should they read (besides THE BROWNIES' BOOK), or how may they improve their time, should they study, and so on.

Consult with us about the child that has some special gift or talent. Ask us to furnish figures and names to prove that it does pay in every way, spiritually as well as materially, to educate our boys and girls up to the finest that is in them). Tell us what colored heroes and heroines you would like us to talk about, what foreign countries you would like described, briefly what dark children—and white too, for that matter, for we colored people must set the example of broadness—are doing all over the glorious world.

And offer us all sorts of suggestions. We need them and truly want them.

But above all, make use of this column. If you want information about dark people along any line ask our "Mr. Judge", as one of our little readers calls him. He knows. Don't you remember he said in the first issue of THE BROWNIES' BOOK, "I know all things, except a few"? Try him and see how very few indeed are those things which he doesn't know.



I HAVE never liked history because I always felt that it wasn't much good. Just a lot of dates and things that some men did, men whom I didn't know and nobody else whom I knew, knew anything about. Just something to take up one hour of the three hours left after school.

But since I read the stories of Paul Cuffee, Blanche K. Bruce and Katy Ferguson, real colored people, whom I feel that I do know because they were brown people like me, I believe I do like history, and I think it is something more than dates.

I read these stories to a little friend of mine, Beatrice Turner, who is only eight years old, and she said, "Now that's just the kind of history I like. Won't you ask THE BROWNIES' BOOK to tell some more stories like that? I would like so much to know the story of John Brown. I have heard so many people talk about him and we used to sing a song about him, but nobody seems to know what he really did,—I don't."

I do wish that you would tell that story sometime in THE BROWNIES' BOOK, and I am sure that all of the readers of THE BROWNIES' BOOK would enjoy it. I hope that I am not asking you too much.

And I wish too, if you can find them, that you would publish the pictures of Katy Ferguson and Paul Cuffee, especially of Katy Ferguson. Of course both of them were perfectly wonderful, but I just love to think about that nice old lady and all she accomplished, although she began with nothing. When I think how much more happily colored girls start out in life now it seems to me we ought to be able to accomplish almost anything.


[We feel that we must reproduce, just as they stand, the charming letters of two charming young ladies of four and six years. The elder young lady, Miss Helen A. Woods, sent the drawing as her contribution to THE BROWNIES' BOOK.—The Editors.]

Dear Miss Fauset:

I cannot read very well, but I like pictures


SARAH L. WOODS, Corona, L. I.
Dear Miss Jessie Fauset:

I like THE BROWNIES' BOOK very much. And I read THE BROWNIES' BOOK as much as I can. I hop some day to be able to write something better than this my self.

Yours respectable,

HELEN A. WOODS, Corona, L. I.
[illustration - The fellow that gos by here on the other side ]

[illustration - Our Little Jury]

[illustration - May Basket ]
HEY-O! May—O!
Such a May Basket
For all who would ask it.
Flip! Butterflies bring it,
Meadow larks sing it;
That quavering May song
Of tenderest notes
That have grown in lark throats
The white winter long,
(As wheat spriglets grow
In spite of the snow).
Here's such a May Basket!
May Cardinal bear it?
There's Trillium to share it—
Some cardinal-red.
Bluebird may take this gift of mine,
Since it boasts sprigs of blue lupine;
Or oriole flit with it on,
Since the buttercups gold like dawn
And gold like that on Oriole's breast,
Are mingled there with all the rest.
Lithe, airy ferns like laces fine,
Float from this springtime gift of mine.
Hey-O! May-O! Such a May Basket
For all who would ask it!



MAY it seems, has been the playmonth of the world, and that is why, perhaps, it has received so much attention in song and story, for this attitude is one which reaches back through many centuries and to many lands. The name May clearly comes from the word Maia, which was what the Romans called this lovely month,—though Maia was third in the Roman calendar, instead of fifth as in ours. The custom of celebrating the first day of May with flowers, mirth and song, originally had nothing to do with the coming of the month but was simply an echo from the celebration which the Romans used to hold for Flora, the goddess of flowers. This usually began the
twenty-eighth of April and lasted until the second of May.

Now where did the Romans in turn get their inspiration for these festivities? From the people of the sun, the dark people of India and Egypt, where it was customary to celebrate in honor of nature's fertility which is most apparent in the spring after the long, cruel winter. The Egyptians used to offer sacrifices to their god Moloch, and the Indians used to light fires to the god Bel. In this particular the Indian and Egyptian influence has seemed to come directly to England—where May Day is most observed,— without having first come through Roman hands.

For up until comparatively recent years, in the Highlands of Scotland and of Ireland, in the Isle of Man, and in Cornwall, England, bonfires have been kindled on May Day. These fires were called "Beltine". Now in the language spoken in Cornwall, and in the language spoken in Ireland, "to tine" meant "to light a fire,"—so "Beltine" meant lighting a fire to Bel, which is exactly what the people of India used to do to honor their god of that name.

Many strange and beautiful and lasting things have come front ancient Africa and mysterious Asia.

English people in these times and for many years back have taken most kindly to "celebrating the May". Even yet on May Day morning boy choristers assemble on top of the tower of Magdalen College, at the quaint and famous University of Oxford. At five o'clock in the morning they gather there and sing: *We worship Thee, oh, Father, God, We praise Thee God all things above; Our bodies Thou dost kindly keep, Our hearts fill with divinest love.

No one seems sure of the origin of this beautiful custom.

Everyone in the early days lent himself to the spirit of May Day. People in country-places

[note] would go "a-maying",—that is, go off to the woods and come back at night laden with flowers and hawthorne. That was a merry time! Doors and windows were festooned with garlands of green and flowers intertwined with gay ribbons. Boys and girls danced on the village-green and no one was too high and mighty to join in. Even kings and queens have been known to help swell the fun of such occasions, —but probably they enjoyed it more than their subjects ever guessed. It can be dull work,— being a king or queen!

May Day has been celebrated in many ways in different parts of England. In London and Cheltenham, the chimney-sweeps used to blacken their faces and parade about in small bands. Their clothing would be gay with color,—red, blue and yellow,—oddly arranged, and one of them would always go dressed as a woman. The music provided by their band was not much to boast of, for usually it consisted only of fiddles and whistles, but who needs a string orchestra when his heart is gay and the Maytime is here? In the center of the procession was a bush, and from time to time the sweeps would dance around this and strike playfully,—let us hope! —at the by-standers, with the spoons or ladles or bladders fastened to long sticks, which they held in their hands.

Sometimes they were accompanied by a fantastic figure called "Jack-in-the-Green". This was usually a man concealed within a tall frame work covered with green twigs, herbs and flowers, with a flag waving at the top. The chimney-sweeps, you may be sure, did not furnish all this revelry for nothing, but expected, and usually got, a shower of half-pennies.

In Debden and Saffron Walden in Essex, little girls carry garlands and dolls, sometimes two, one large and one small. Through the streets they parade, singing quaint carols. In Cambridge the children swing dolls in a hoop of flowers and sing: The first of May is Garland Day, And chimney-sweepers' Dancing Day: Curl your locks as I do mine, One before and one behind.

The dolls are supposed to represent the Virgin and her Child. So once again our thoughts turn toward Egypt and the East where the world had its beginnings.


Not only children take part in these May Day games. Very often the Grown-ups make preparations, too. In Liverpool and Birkenhead, the shopwindows, even before May Day, are gay with rosettes and braids of bright ribbon, and fancy bells. Then when May Day arrives the carters and drivers clean their wagons and curry their horses, and bedeck both with ribbons. About twelve o'clock a grand procession passes through the most important streets. The carts are covered with artificial flowers, and the horses, sleek and velvety, are resplendent with brass and bells and even, sometimes, with rich materials. In the wagons are fine specimens representing the industry which the driver pursues. That is a glorious day for man and beast, the best of food and drink is handed out to the driver, and the horse is abundantly fed. This custom is nearly two centuries old.

In other parts of England the milkmaids furnish the entertainment. For a week beforehand they go about, borrowing, or at least getting the promise of, silver cups, tankards and trays. These are hung around the milking pail with flowers and ribbons and arranged so that they form a sort of pyramid, which the milkmaids carry on their heads! As Mother Goose said of "poor old Robinson Crusoe," we "wonder how they can do so!" But they do.

Through the village streets and across the green they dance to the tune of the bagpipe or fiddle, or call on their customers who greet them with small gifts. Their favorite cow accompanies them sometimes on these rounds. At such times Bossy's appearance is very brave and fine; her horns are gilded, ribbons festoon her sleek, dappled sides, and she is hung with trailing wreaths of oak leaves and flowers.

The grown-ups that are seen most often, however, and in all parts of England, are those that take part in the famous Morris Dance. The number of dancers varies from five to twelve, but whatever their number they are a marvellous sight to see. At first one thinks they are all over bells, for bells hang from their girdles, their garters, their sleeves, the ends of scarves and bits of lace which they wear, and sometimes they carry a shaker of bells in their hands. They wear silver paper or cloth covered with figures. Their steps and motions are often very strange, sometimes weird, and then again very graceful. This dance was brought to England by the English John of Gaunt when he came back from Spain. The word "Morris" comes from the word "Morisco" which means Moorish. For it was the Moors who introduced this dance into Spain, bringing it over from northern Africa.

Thus dances known first in sunny Africa, beside the blue Mediterranean, are seen today in merry England within the sound of the booming Atlantic.

It is impossible to think of celebrating May Day without a May Pole. An old English writer—how queer his spelling seems these days!—says:

"The tall May-Pole formed the principal attraction of May Day. It is covered with flowers and hearbs (herbs), and bounde with strings of different colours, and often two or three hundred men, women and children follow it with great devotion, and when it is raised and they have feasted, they begin to leap and daunce about it,—"

Long, long ago in England people would come back from their "maying" in a long procession carrying branches of trees and flowers. In the centre of the procession would be those bearing the May Pole all gay with wreaths and ribbons. Usually it was of birch and set up only for the day, but in London and some of the large towns the poles were of tough wood and set up for a long period of time. There is one in Lostock in Lancashire which was set up in the reign of King John.

The May Pole is thought to have come from India and probably was used among the people of that country much as the totem pole is used among Indians of the West today.

The world is really very small and East and West are always meeting!

Many songs and superstitions are connected with the month of May. Listen, girls!

If you bathe your face in dew early on the first of May you will be beautiful the whole year 'round.

Never choose May for your wedding month. Marriages in May always turn out unhappily.

If you count the number of living objects which you see when you first look out the window on the first of May, you will know how many years will elapse before you marry.

May is the month when lovers make love,
when shepherds play on their flutes, when children begin their games. It is the spring time of the year, of the world and of the heart. It is the great holiday—"holy day" they used to call it—of all the seasons. Over all presides the gracious Lady May. Shut your eyes and picture the shepherd lads and lassies dancing gaily over the green and singing the old ballad of May Day:

Come trip along whilst level sunbeams play,
And fire the green with golden light;
Let every maiden and younker gay
Be as fairy maid and sprite;
Soft fall your feet as fall the dews of night,
And o'er the green like fireflies twinkle bright
For the Ladye May, fairest Ladye May,
Bringeth in the shepherd's Holy daye.

But long before the rosy English shepherd thought of this, slim, bronze Indian and Egyptian keepers of herds on Eastern plains, were singing their songs to Lady May.


Whole Duty of Children

Hey-O ! May-O!
Such a May Basket
For all who would ask it.
Whiff! fragrant fresh wood mints
Mixed here in all tints
A gauzy bright throng that Cardinal's spring mirth
Called up from the earth,
To realms of sweet song.
(As sunlight calls dew when night hours are through')
Hey-O! May-O!
Here's such a May Basket
For all who would ask it!
Shall Molly receive it,
Since she helped to weave it
The streamer of fern?
Should Patience get this gift of mine?
She fetched the blue-eyed myrtle vine.
Or maybe it should go to Rose.
Since she showed where the wild phlox grows;
A secret Phyllis never knew,
Although she found the meadow rue,
And found these ferns, like laces fine,
To flutter from this gift of mine.
Hey-O! May-O! A gorgeous May Basket
For YOU, should you ask it!



The Runaway Kite

MY kite broke loose on a windy day,
And 'way, 'way up in the air it flew;
And though I've sought for it, far and near,
It has never come back from the lofty blue.
Now where does it stay, and what does it see,
And what all day long does it find to do?
I think that it floats on a snowy cloud
Or jauntily rides on a saucy breeze;
And when it gets weary it flutters down
To the shelter of tall and stately trees;
Or the fairies may use it as a sail
For their fairy barks that patrol the seas.

The Singing Top

ON sunny days I spin my top
From morning until noon;
It whirls in rings,
And hums and sings
This little pleasant tune,
"Sweet April comes, then leafy May,
And then comes golden June!"

The Teasing Hoop

MY hoop goes trundling down the street
And I go skipping after,
And as it bounds along so fleet,
It says with elfin laughter:
"Make up your mind that in this race
You're bound to have the second place,
No matter, child, how hard you try,
You cannot run as fast as I."

"Salt! Vinegar! Mustard! Pepper!"

SPRING evenings after supper
When we're all dressed up so neat,
We children take our skipping-rope
And play out in the street.
You never heard such noise and mirth,
Or saw such nimble feet.

We jump all sorts of fancy ways,—
"High water, water low",
And some of us jump "Double Dutch",—
We do it fast or slow ;
But "Vinegar, mustard, pepper, salt!"
Is the favorite, you know.

Adventures on Roller Skates

ON April afternoons I say,
"Mama, I'd like to skate today."
She thinks I'll play out in the street
With Maude and Harold Jones and Pete,—
But really I go far away.
Sometimes I skate in Switzerland,
With ice-clad hills on every hand;
Sometimes I'm off in Russia far,—
(They still talk there about the czar!)
I'm sorer here, you understand!
I skate in Greenland; Norway, too,
And skim its fiords of icy blue.
When I get back my mother calls,
"Come in before the dampness falls!"
She'd wonder if she really knew!

The Happy Organ-Grinder

THE organ man comes down our street
On afternoons of later May,
And just as soon as he appears,
I actually forget to play.
He is a ragged man and old,
His day's work ought to make him weary;
And yet he smiles and smiles at me
And always seems so bright and cheery.
Perhaps his organ keeps him so,—
He makes it play such glorious things!
And when he sees me listening there
He throws his gray head back and sings.
His song excites me, makes me know
I'm listening to some thrilling story.
My brother says the words are these,
"Frenchmen, arise, awake to glory!"

[illustration - When Jerry the field mouse spends his winter in the stump in the old Brier patch Herman Burgess Jerry the Field Mouse] [illustration - SEALS AUKS Spencer Wise Arctic Scene] [illustration - Joseph[?] Sinbad in the Valley of Diamonds] [illustration - Arctic Scene of Mountain Life Spencer Wise Arctic Scene of Mountain Life]

Contributions from Our Young Artists



What sort of story do you like best? I confess my favorite is the one where the poor or unknown boy or girl, man or woman, struggles up, up, up until he becomes rich or famous, or useful, or the leader of his people, the saviour of his fatherland. All other stories of no matter how splendid adventures and achievements fade into nothing for me beside the heroes who mount—as the Romans used to say—per aspera ad astra, "through rough ways to the stars"! And when the stories are of real people who have passed through real suffering and have achieved real triumph, my admiration goes beyond all bounds. Even if the hero afterwards meets with misfortune, what of that? Everything that has been done once, may be done again, and some day some man realizing what one before his time has accomplished, will do all that and more. Sometimes a defeat can be more splendid than a victory.

Toussaint L'Ouverture, the hero of this story, came of a royal line. His grandfather was Gaou Guinou, King of the Arradas, a powerful tribe on the West Coast of Africa. The son was captured by a hostile tribe and sold into slavery in one of the West Indian islands, Santo Domingo. Here his son, Pierre Dominic Toussaint, better known as Toussaint L'Ouverture, was born in 1743, a slave but the grandson of a king!

Nothing very much is known of his boyish days, except that he was very intelligent and loyal. Because of his faithfulness he rose rapidly from the occupation of shepherd to coachman and thence to the position of foreman of the large plantation where he lived.

He was always fond of reading, and managed remarkably enough to become acquainted with one or two foreign languages ; certainly he knew Latin. His tastes were various but chiefly he read the writings of Epictetus, himself once a slave in Greece, who later became a philosopher. Isn't that a fine picture—this boy on the tropical plantation reading the works of one whose early life had been as his own and who later on arose to fame? Besides Epictetus, Toussaint read Plutarch's "Lives", and several very technical, informing works on warfare and the conduct of battles.

But chiefly he liked the Frenchman Diderot's "History of the East and West Indies", in which Diderot, writing under the name of Abbé Raynal, said:

"Nations of Europe, your slaves need neither your generosity nor your advice to break the sacrilegious yoke which oppresses them. They only need a chief sufficiently courageous to lead them to vengeance and slaughter. Where can this great man be found? Where is this new Spartacus? He will appear, we cannot doubt it; he will show himself to raise the sacred standard of Liberty and gather round him his companions in misfortune! More impetuous than the mountain torrents they will leave behind them on all sides the ineffaceable signs of their great resentment!"

Self-confidence is a part of greatness. Modesty is a good thing, a fine thing, but one does not get very far on that quality alone, no matter how deserving. Toussaint, poring over these words from his youth up, feeling more and more keenly the horror of his condition, finally became convinced that these words applied to him and that he was that promised leader. Yet fifty years elapsed, before even he acted on this. When he was fifty-four he tells us: "Since the blacks are free they need a chief, and it is I who must be that leader predicted by the Abbé Raynal."

The island of Hayti and Santo Domingo— these two provinces form the same island, you must remember—was in a terrible plight in those days. Fighting, misgovernment, slavery and disaster ruled on all sides. Three powerful nations of Europe, England, France and Spain, were warring with each other because of their interests, and rebellions on the part of the slaves were constantly breaking forth against their various masters. French slavery flourished most in Hayti, where conditions were unspeakable for over a century. Finally, after the outbreak of the French Revolution, the Haytians sent two delegates to Paris. One of them, Ogé, on his return started a small rebellion which led to much bloodshed.

Now many black Haytians had in various ways achieved their actual freedom, but did not have the rights of freemen. In order to offset the consequences of Ogé's rebellion France
granted to these free Negroes all civil privileges, making them free in deed as well as in name. Immediately a new confusion arose, for the free Negroes took up arms against the white owners of slave plantations and four hundred and fifty-two thousand slaves rose up to take sides with them.

This was in August, 1791. Toussaint, still a foreman on his master's plantation, felt his time had come. He first helped Bayou de Libertat, the overseer in general of the plantation, who had been very kind to him, to escape with his wife and family. Then he enlisted in the Negro camp. He was a surgeon at first, but in the general confusion he realized that a good drill-master would be of more service and so he began to train and direct. His early reading doubtless helped him out here, but he was a natural leader, and generalship came as easily to him as breathing.

He seems to have been fitted in every way for the position which was finally his. His tastes and needs were extraordinarily simple. As a rule his meals consisted of a few oatmeal cakes, two or three bananas and water. He never touched wine. Nothing was too strenuous or fatiguing for him ; he did not know the meaning of fear. He could do without sleep and frequently went with no more than two hours of slumber a night, and he was a magnificent horseman. Then too, he had "good luck". In seven years of campaigning he was wounded nineteen times and never once seriously. He had great personal magnetism and impressiveness and an abundance of self-confidence.

At first Toussaint allied himself with the Spanish who were fighting the French. Under his leadership the Negro troops advanced from victory to victory. It was at this time that Toussaint took on the extra name of L'Ouverture, because he believed that he was "the opening" or door to brighter things for his fellowmen. In spite of his many triumphs and his steady advance he never stooped to base actions, never inflicted unnecessary cruelty or imposed punishments purely for revenge. And it was proverbial among French, Spanish and English that he never broke his word.

Now although Toussaint had taken up arms against France, his heart was really with the French. Theirs were the traditions, customs and training that he really admired and with which he would have preferred to ally himself. When, therefore, the French, hard pressed by British and by Toussaint's troops alike, finally proclaimed the abolition of slavery in Hayti, Toussaint immediately left the Spanish and united with the French. From this stand nothing could move him. General Maitland, head of the English forces, offered the supreme control of Hayti to Toussaint. But he refused. He wanted slavery abolished, but he wanted to be free under France.

By 1800, Haytian affairs had begun to calm down. The Spanish and English forces withdrew, and the French, although unwillingly, left the island also, with L'Ouverture as Commander- in-chief of Forces. He showed himself as able a ruler in peace as in war. He drew up a constitution under which Hayti was independent. He was to be governor or president for life and had the power to name his successor. There was to be religious freedom throughout the province and the ports of the island were to be thrown open to the world.

He sent a draft of this constitution to France for official confirmation. But Napoleon, alas! had never forgiven the Haytian warrior for his successful resistance to France. Instead, therefore, of honoring Toussaint's suggestion, the French ruler sent an immense army of 60,000 men to the island, to call on him to surrender. When Toussaint saw the fleet coming into the harbor he knew resistance was useless and rushed to Cape Francois to tell his people not to take part in an opposition which could avail them nothing. But he arrived there too late. His General, Christophe, had refused to let the white troops land and the fighting was already on. Toussaint felt that he must for loyalty's sake join in, but the odds were too heavy and he was forced to retreat.

As it happened both Toussaint's own son, Isaac, and his step-son, Placide, had been sent to France to complete their education. These Napoleon had sent back with the fleet to Hayti, and these were now brought to their father by the French General LeClerc to urge him to surrender to France. Toussaint, who was both proud and, just, told the boys to choose between him and their foster country, he would love them none the less, no matter what their decision.

Strangely enough, Isaac, his own son, said, "You see in me a faithful servant of France, who could never agree to take up arms against
[illustration - TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE [?] ]
her." But Placide, who was bound to him by no tie of blood. but who owed all his position and training to him, exclaimed, "I am yours, father! I fear the future: I fear slavery. I am ready to fight to oppose it. I know France no more!"

Isaac returned to LeClerc to tell him his father's and brother's decision, but Placide stayed and fought at the head of a Negro battalion.

It is sad to admit that Toussaint finally had to yield. He retreated to his home at Gonaives and even then he might have lived out a peaceful and comparatively happy existence. But, induced by a message, he visited, unarmed and alone, the house of a treacherous General Brunet, where he was seized, put in irons, placed on board the French man-of-war Héros and taken with his wife and children to Brest. They never saw Hayti again.

He never lost his superb courage. He said to his captors, "In overthrowing me, you have only cut down the trunk of the tree of Negro Liberty. Its roots will sprout again, for they are many in number and deeply planted!"

At the harbor of Brest in France he bade a final good-bye to his family, and was removed to Fort Joux on the edge of the Jura Mountains. Here he was placed in a damp dungeon which in itself was fatal to a man used as he was to tropical light and sunshine. He was very closely confined here, every indignity heaped upon him, his faithful servant Mars Plaisir was taken from him and finally, lest he should commit suicide, his watch and razor were removed.

But this sort of insult meant nothing to that unvanquished spirit. "I have been much misjudged." he said scornfully, "if I am thought to be lacking in courage to support my sorrow."

For eighteen months he lingered on. Then one day the governor of the prison took a holiday, leaving things in charge of Lieutenant Colomier, and hinting to him that if the venerable Haytian were dead on his return, there would be no inquiries made. It is pleasant to know that Colomier, far from responding to such a dastardly hint, took advantage of the governor's absence to give Toussaint coffee and other comforts which he had so long desired. The governor, finding on his return that his trick had not worked, took, not long after, another holiday. This time he took the keys with him, and left no one in charge, saying that everyone had been attended to.

He stayed away four days. When he came hack. Toussaint L'Ouverture lay in his cell cold and dead from starvation.

But does it greatly matter? If he had been asked, which do you think he would have preferred,— life and ease or the implanting and fostering of the idea of liberty in the Negroes of Hayti? No need to guess. His name lives on beyond his own fondest dreams. Lamartine, the French poet, dramatized him; Auguste Comte, the great philosopher, counts him among the fifty finest types of manhood in the world; our own Wendell Phillips, in the oration which all of you know, calls him "soldier, statesman and martyr."

But best of all his influence lives on. Wordsworth truly wrote to him,—

Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies ; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.

It was in April, 1803 that he died. And today Hayti is again struggling against a foreign invasion. But she does not falter. She knows that the spirit of Toussaint lives eternally among her men, urging them ever and always on to freedom. The light of great men lies forever across the pathway of those that follow.


Children of the Sun

DEAR little girl of tender years,
Born of a race with haunting fears,—
Cry not nor sigh for wrongs done you,
Your cloud has silv'ry lining, too.
Dear little son, be not in gloom,
For fears this world has no more room ;
God in His Wisdom gave you hue
Of which He's proud—yes, proud of you!



Little Fairies

YES, these are truly little fairies,— not the make-believe fairies of the story book, but real fairies who get lots of happiness out of doing good for others.

These little girls are members of Miss Amanda Kemp's Dancing Class and because they are so tiny and dance so well, they are known as Miss Kemp's Dancing Dolls.

There are many children in New York whose fathers are dead and whose mothers must go out daily to work in order to keep the home together and give the little ones a proper education. The mother can take her children, if they are under seven years of age, to the Hope Day Nursery where they are properly cared for during the day.

The nurses in attendance see that the children left in their charge have the best care, with three meals a day and plenty of milk to make them grow strong. A play teacher teaches them
games and sees that they have lots of fun and plenty of exercise to make them healthy.

Sometimes there are forty of these children a day.

The Board of Managers gives a musical entertainment once a year to help provide funds for the work.

These little fairies, with about twenty others, appear in songs and dances at this big entertainment before three or four thousand people.

These talented children are called fairies because they help others. The good they do is four-fold: 1st, the money from their entertaining makes it possible to care for the children in the nursery; 2nd, they do good to themselves, because it makes them happy to sing and dance; 3rd, the exercise of dancing improves their health and makes them erect and graceful; 4th, they give happiness to a tired audience whose members, after a hard day's work, need amusement.

It is splendid to begin early in life to help our neighbors and take an interest in the community welfare. Are you doing something for the welfare of the children in your community?





1. What house is that without a door? Answer—An egg.

2. What is that which always goes straight ahead and never looks back? Answer—The river.

3. What is it that looks both ways when you pass it? Answer—Grass.

4. What good thing is it that man eats and which he constantly fastens his eyes upon while eating and then throws half away? Answer—Roasted ear of corn.

5. I have two skins, one to lie on and the other to cover myself with. What are they? Answer—The bare ground and the sky.

6. I whistle and the people all come running from the forest. What am I? Answer—The rain.

7. What are the thunder god's garments which fall on the earth? Answer—The ends of the rainbow.

8. What throws itself from the mountain top without being broken or killed? Answer—A waterfall.

9. There is something that travels fast without legs or wings and no cliff, river or wall can stop it? Answer—The voice.

10. Who are the twins we always see but they never meet? Answer—The ears.

11. Who are the brothers who, though always near, never see each other? Answer—The eyes.

12. What house is made entirely of windows? Answer—A fish net.

13. What people live in houses without doors or windows which they break open so they may talk? Answer—Little chickens.


14. Who are the people with long legs who make me run back home? AnswerAnswer—Drops of rain.

15. Name ten little trees, each having a hard white leaf on its top. Answer—The fingers.


1. If a dog is not at home, he barks not.

2. A heedless dog will not do for the hunt.

3. A lurking dog does not lie in the hyena's lair.

4. He who cannot move an ant, and yet tries to move an elephant shall find out his folly.

5. The elephant does not find his trunk heavy.

6. Were no elephant in the jungle, the buffalo would be a great animal.

7. If the fly flies, the frog goes not supperless to bed.

8. When the rat laughs at the cat, there is a hole.

9. The rat has no power to call the cat to account.

10. The rat does not go to sleep in the cat's bed.

11. The butterfly that brushes against thorns will tear its wings.

12. When the fox dies, the fowls do not mourn.

13. He who waits to see a crab wink will tarry long upon the shore.

14. He who goes with the wolf will learn to howl.

15. The goat does not pass the leopard's door.

NOTE:—That literature of Africa, which is of an oral character and popularly known as folk lore, may be divided as follows:

Riddles, proverbs, animal stories or fables, myths, fairy tales, tribal chronicles, poetry and music.

Poetry is sung or chanted and vocal music is rarely expressed without words. The telling of folks tales amounts almost to a passion, it is said, with the people.

The African is a ready extemporizer and not even a child finds difficulty at any time in producing an extemporaneous song.



LONG before the chubby hand of a chubby boy rolled a marble in its chubby palm, clinched it between thumb and fingers and sent it after another, monkeys did the same. A boy invented cheating at marbles, but monkeys invented the game.

Skybow was a monkey, and so was Peblow, and that made them a-kin, monkey-wise. Skybow thought the stars pebbles, waiting for a game. Peblow thought the pebbles marbles, begging for a game.

"Here they be," said Peblow, "nice, smooth, round ones. Lend them your paw, Skybow."

"Right you be, Peblow," said Skybow. "We can't game the Stars, but we can toss pebbles." At this they fell to playing. Skybow tossed a pebble, and Peblow rubbed his eye and wrote his respects in the dust with his tail. Skybow read it and aimed nearer the ground next time. Peblow tossed a pebble; and, after Skybow had turned around several times, the while making one long grunt, he shook the pebbles from his ear and wrote a line in the dust with his tail. Peblow read it and said:

"My dear Skybow, the dust is a better playground than our heads."

Then Peblow tossed pebbles to wipe out Skybow's writing, and Skybow tossed pebbles to wipe out Peblow's. This, you see, was the game. Then the Snake came up and said : "This is no game. To have a real game you must have a taw and a ring. You must toss your pebbles in ones and trebles and whirl about as you knock them out. I stretch me in the dust. Now that line is your taw. I coil me in the dust. Now that circle is your ring. Play now for pebbles and not for eyes and ears."

Skybow and Peblow then played. boy-fashion, and piled up the nice smooth round pebbles by the ring-side.

"Let me play," said the snake. "I'll show you fellows a new wrinkle."

"In the eyes and ears?" asked Skybow and Peblow.

"No," said the Snake, "You are wise enough to do that. I'll play you a game without hands. I'll swallow all the pebbles and cough them up as I need them in the game."

"Then go it," said Peblow.

"You know it," said Skybow.

The Snake swallowed the pebbles, coiled up and pretended to be asleep.

"Let's have the game," said Peblow.

"I ask the same," said Skybow.

Said the Snake: "There is no use grumbling. The pebbles are in, and you are out. Go write in the dust with your tails and blow out the letters with your mouths. That's a good game."

"I have a thought," said Skybow.

"Let it not go to naught," said Peblow.

Said the Snake: "I'll move on and leave you to think out your thought." The Snake tried to move, but the pebbles weighted it to the ground.

"Let my tail grip the Snake's tail," said Skybow.

"Let my tail grip the Snake's neck," said Peblow.

"What," said the Snake, "are you going to make me, a skipping rope?" It then curved its neck and wiggled its tail. In those days the Snake carried no poison under its tongue. The poison was in its tail and was harmless.

"I'm turning the Snake by the tail," said Skybow.

"I'm turning the Snake by the neck," said Peblow.

"Oh," said the Snake, "for the curve in my neck, and the wiggle in my tail!"

"Oh," said the monkeys, "for the crick in your neck, Brother Snake, and the twist in your tail!"

After Skybow and Peblow were sure that the Snake was a good skipping rope they left it to cough up the pebbles and play its own game. In coughing up the pebbles the poison was drawn from its tail and lodged under its tongue. It straightway became a stinging and poisonous creature. and from that day to this, all other creatures have been its enemies. That's how the first game of marbles was played, and how the Snake got its sting.

[illustration - SPRING Wilmington, Delaware, Community Service Arranges a Ball Game at Eden Park]


Our Little Friends

A Present for My Dolly

ONE whole week I've been looking
For a present for my doll.
My mamma said to get for her
A pretty parasol;
My papa said to get her
A little golden ring;
And brother told me very plain
He wouldn't get a thing.
My sister said a nice new coat
Or something else like that;
And Jane said what she thought was nice
Would be a velvet hat.
But I have bought some candy
Which I think is the best—
For my doll may take a little—
But she'll leave me all the rest.

The Moon

I SAW the moon shining one night,
I looked at her with all my might;
A big, round ball, with eyes and nose—
Where she came from, or where she goes,
I wonder!
In the dark, blue sky she gives us light
Each night when she is shining bright;
And, like a lamp, the way she shows,
(As many a weary traveler knows)
Till day.
And, like the moon, I'll do my share
To make life's night more bright and fair;
And some one who was lost awhile,
I know will thank me with his smile
At dawn.

Brown Eyes

LITTLE maid with troubled hair,
Nothing blows than you, more fair,
Sweeter far than breath of morn
In its cradle, newly born.
All the world was made for you,
Beauties rare and mother, too;
Every loving heart a nest
For your tiny head to rest.
Soon the sun to bed will creep,
Brown Eyes eery lie to sleep,
Steal across the dream-lit sea,
Then come sailing home to me!



THIS is the Springtime of the year and I'm certainly glad. I don't mind the cold for I ruffle up my black feathers and draw my neck in right close and sleep quite cozily in the great stark trees. Or I spread my wide wings and fly and fly and fly until I forget the winter in the singing of the air. But oh! the kiddies, the poor little kiddies of Austria and Poland and Russia, how they suffered and starved and how they welcome the Spring! Caw! Ca'. Caw! I welcome it, too.

  • Nearly all the governments of the world are beginning to show a willingness to make peace with Russia. They have all been afraid of Russia since the revolution because the Russians have started a new kind of government. In this government the working people have all the power. Nobody can vote who does not work. Other nations declare that the Russian workers have been tyrants and have killed many of the rich and well to do. This is denied by the Russian workers.
  • There has been trouble in South America between Chili, Peru and Bolivia, because Chili seems determined to hold certain territory on the Pacific Ocean which shuts Bolivia out from the sea.
  • A revolution is reported in Nicaragua and Honduras in Central America. Most of the people there are colored and trouble has often been fomented by Americans and other white people.
  • Germany is going to buy the Prussian railroads for eight and one-half billion dollars.
  • A great railroad strike attempted in France has failed for lack of popular sympathy.
  • The population of Porto Rico, which is largely colored, has increased 15.9 per cent since 1910, and is now 1,295,826.
  • The Japanese Diet, which is their Congress, has been dissolved because of a widespread demand by the political parties for extending the franchise and letting larger numbers of people vote. Japan, while a progressive country, is still ruled by a small aristocracy and by the Emperor who has large powers. The mass of the people have hitherto had little voice in the government.
  • The Allies decided that Turkey should be stripped of all her territory in Europe except Constantinople and Adrianople and that Thrace and Smyrna be under the Greeks. Afterward President Wilson protested and finally because of continued massacres among the Armenians, Allied troops led by the British have seized Constantinople and are now holding it.
  • The Russian Bolsheviki have made a vigorous attack upon the Poles because Poland has been extending her boundaries eastward. She claims that all the territory which ever belonged to ancient Poland should be reincorporated with new Poland, in spite of the fact that much of this territory is now inhabited by people who are not and never were Polish. The Bolsheviki, however, have sent word to the Poles and Finns and Roumanians that they are willing at any time to discuss peace.
  • The Italian government has decided to buy no more tobacco from the United States. This is to cut down the number of unnecessary imports because Italy is not exporting enough to pay her debts.
  • England and France have decided to repay the five hundred million dollar debt which they borrowed of the United States in 1915. This, of course, is a small part of the total loans made by the United States to the Allies. They amount together to the enormous figure of $9,659,834,649.
  • The Portuguese Cabinet has resigned and A. Silva is trying to form a new Cabinet. There are nearly a dozen colored members in the Portuguese Parliament.

Whirl.' Whirl! Up, whirl and fly home to my sweet, little, black crowlets. What? You never saw baby crows and in the Spring? How screamingly
funny! Why' I've seen thousands and millions and—well, lots. Come, straight west and fly high. Home we go and I'll show you mine. Ah! But they're black and sweet and bonnie.

  • President Wilson has signed a bill releasing oil lands in millions of acres in the West. Meantime the price of oil and its by-products has been mounting steadily.
  • At one minute after midnight March 1 the railroads of the United States were returned to private ownership after having been conducted by the United States Government for twenty- six months.
  • The United States Supreme Court has declared that the United States Steel Corporation does not violate the Sherman anti-trust law. This law was passed to keep big business enterprises from uniting, monopolizing business and crushing out competition. While the steel trust has not crushed out competition as much as other big business, many people think it is dangerous to let any one business grow so large. It has a capital of over one thousand million dollars and is the largest producer of steel in the world.
  • Railroad executives and employees have been in conference over wages at the request of President Wilson. The employees demand an increase of a billion dollars. This the executives have refused and the question has again been laid before the President.
  • The Government took up the business of building ships during the war and up to June 20, 1920, it made a net profit of $166,493,990.
  • The United States House of Representatives wants a standing army of 299,000 men with 17,820 officers. The measure is now before the Senate.
  • Large numbers of people are in jail because they did not believe in the late war and refused to act as soldiers; or because they were convicted of stating their opinions under the Espionage Law. There is a growing demand for their release and it ought to be granted.
  • The Coal Commission appointed by President Wilson to consider the wages of coal miners did not altogether agree, but the miners are going to get an increase of 25 per cent which is fairly satisfactory to them.
  • Several thousand longshoremen, stevedores, etc., in the port of New York, have struck for higher wages.
  • There is great difficulty throughout the country and especially in the large cities in securing teachers for the public schools. The cost of living has risen so rapidly that the teachers' wages are not high enough and many of them are going into other fields of work. There are many movements to increase the salaries paid teachers. During one week in March 36,000 children were sent home from public school for lack of teachers, and throughout the United States 18,279 schools are closed for the same reason.
  • Fifty thousand bodies of dead American soldiers will be returned to the United States, while 25,000 will remain buried in Europe.
  • The question of the bonus or gift to be voted soldiers who served in the late war is before Congress. There is a good deal of difference of opinion but most wise people think that it is opportunity rather than gifts which the returned soldiers ought to have.
  • The United States Income Tax laid a tax upon "stock dividends". It is a widespread custom among corporations when they are earning a good deal of money to increase their stock and give away the new stock of the former stockholders. For instance, a street car company may have a capital of a million dollars and earn $500,000, which would be 50 per cent of its capital. They, however, issue $450,000 worth of new stock and give it to their stockholders. This makes a total capital of $1,450,000 and earnings of $50,000, which look very small. This stock dividend of $450,000 was taxed according to the United States Income Law, but the Supreme Court has decided that these dividends cannot be taxed. This decision may be good law, but it is questionable public policy.
  • The Presidential Nominating Convention of the Socialist Party which has not been held since 1912 will be held in New York City. May 8.
  • Primary elections for delegates to various conventions which nominate Presidential candidates are being held throughout the United States. Although many people neglect them, these primary elections are very important.
  • There has been a great strike of workers on the various railroads. The President has hastened to stop it by appointing a new Labor Board which is to consider the matter of wages for railway labor.
  • The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People will hold its eleventh annual meeting in Atlanta, Ga., in May. The Governor of Georgia and the Mayor of Atlanta will be among the speakers.