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

The Brownies' Book
One Dollar and a Half a Year
January, 1920




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. SEPTEMBER, 1920 No.9


COVER PICTURE. The School Girl. Portrait of Charlotte Elizabeth Crawford
BIG ROUND DATE AND LITTLE BEAN. A Story. Carolie Bond Day. Illustrated by Marcellus Hawkins 359
THE WATERMELON DANCE. A Story. Peggy Poe. Illustrated 263
THE STORY OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS. A True Story. Laura E. Wilkes. Illustrated 266
CLEANING UP. A Poem. Annette Christine BrowneIllustrated by Marcellus Hawkins 271
THE THREE GOLDEN HAIRS OF THE SUN-KING. A Story. John Bolden. Illustrated by Marcellus Hawkins 276
OUR LITTLE FRIENDS. Four Pictures 281
PLAYTIME. Four Games from St. Helena. Arranged by Julia Price Burrell 283
POEMS. Illustrated. To Our Mother. Madeline G. Allison; The Strawberry, Mary Effie Lee; Little Moon Dancer, Eulalie Spence; The Grasshopper, Mary Effie Lee; Tomboys, Annette Christine Brownes; The Baby Boy, Willis Richardson 286-287
LAFAYETTTE. A Picture 288


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  • Entered as second class matter January 20, 1920, at the Post Office at New York, N.Y., under the Act of March 2, 1879.

[illustration - A group from the pageant of "Education" at Atlanta University]


The Brownies' Book

Vol 1. September, 1920 No.9


Big Round Date and Little Bean

AKRABOUS sat on his steed at the edge of the desert. The red disc of the sun was sinking behind a sand dune in the distance. He looked like a figure of terra-cotta in contrast to the whiteness of his draperies. His bearing even on horseback was remarkably erect, and one could see at a glance, that he was of the nobility even though his skin was brown and his features broad and full like those of the people of the Sudan.

Presently a slave boy appeared with a tiny package which he placed in his master's hand, then hastened away again. Now this was a little silver box containing an amulet which the Mother of Akrabous had sent to him to keep away all harm on his journey, for he was going into the land of the Northern Tuaregs to seek a bride. Inside of this amulet among other things was the seed of a date which was as old as Akrabous himself. When he was a baby, he had been so fat and brown and round, that his Mother had named him Akrabous or "Big Round-Date", and a date had been his lucky symbol ever since.

He was a very fortunate young man in many respects, for although his Mother had been a slave brought from the far country of Dahomey, his father had been one of the Southern Tuaregs and had transferred his seat in the gima or town council to his son. Akrabous had also inherited much wealth and everyone knew in all the villages around how well educated he was, and what a brave warrior he had become, for could he not recite long passages from the Koran and count on beads? And he knew all the herbs and plants that grew around, and what their juices were good for, and no one understood how to treat sick animals better than he. And now he was going away. The old men of the Jima shook their heads. It was not well for a Southern Tuareg to go into the land of the Northern Tuaregs.

Akrabous was not afraid, however, for he wore on his forefinger a huge ring of stone which would enable him to strike a fatal blow, and he carried also a poniard and a shield of camel's skin for which his father had paid five sous. Moreover he was not going on this journey alone. Just beyond the edge of the village seven dusky slaves and companions were to join him as soon as night fell and he should be ready to start.

Once he had reached his destination Akrabous felt that everything would be simple and easy for was he not carrying many precious gifts to the nobleman whose daughter he was seeking? Ivory, and great beads of coral, and gum from the acacia tree were some of the things he carried, also many useful and beautiful articles of leather.

Now Akrabous had never seen this maiden whom he sought but so many and so frequent had been the stories which he had heard of her beauty and cleverness that he was very sure he would fall in love with her as soon as he saw her.

Meantime, even while Akrabous was planning his trip another suitor was aspiring for the hand of Tama, for that was the lovely maiden's name. His name was Taldebert or "Little-Bean", and he was certainly not an attractive looking person. Nevertheless he was crafty and determined and always did just what
he knew would please Tama. At night he would stand in the grove of trees near her home and play for hours on his reed flute because she liked to be serenaded, and at other times when she and the ladies of her household wanted to be amused in the evening with games, Taldebert was always the one to take the principal role and a great clown he could be too when he liked. When the time came for story telling no one could match Taldebert with yarns. He would sit cross-legged on a grass mat looking for all the world like an ungainly donkey, so homely was he with his long head, and ears that stood off from his head, and eyes that protruded also. Yet somehow Tama seemed to favor him. Her little waiting maiden Barbara thought that it was only because he was amusing and was wishing that some one else would appear who would be at once more entertaining than Taldebert and more desirable also.

One warm evening when a group of ladies were sitting around under the date trees and fanning themselves with palmetto leaves, being entertained as usual, a messenger came breathlessly riding up and jumping off of his horse, asked permission by making a low bow, if he might tell his news. Tama lifted her first finger which he knew meant "Yes", and he proceeded.

A strange young warrior with only a few comrades had been attacked by a tribe of wandering Arabs a few miles outside of the village. They were so clever and strong that they captured the whole band.

"Where were they going?" asked Tama.

"Where but here to the village of Locoma," the messenger replied. The ladies clapped their hands together, they were so pleased that some new excitement was to be theirs; Tama's father came to the door of his tent to see what it was all about, but Taldebert only pricked up his ears and looked more homely than ever.

At her father's bidding Tama ordered preparations to be made for the guests. Earthen jars of goat's milk and little cakes of bread made from grain and dried in the sun, were being set out to refresh the travelers. Tama went in and added a few ornaments to her hair and rubbed a little more antimony under her eyes for she was a vain little person and wished to have the stranger admire her. Meantime her father had sent an escort to lead the way for the visitors and to meet them at the gate of the village.

Now Akrabous had been successful all through his journey, but just as he was having a skirmish with the last one of the Arab captives he in some way lost his amulet and did not miss it until he had ridden many miles. Men were sent back to look for it, but this so weakened their numbers, that the Arabs attempted to over-power them, and in the struggle Akrabous was badly wounded and had to be carried into the village.

This was by no means the kind of entrance that poor Akrabous had hoped to make. The group halted once they were safely inside the village gates, and the messenger was sent back to secure aid of some sort in conveying their leader to a safe resting place. So when Tama and the ladies looked up expectantly, instead of seeing an erect and imposing young warrior at the head of the band they saw only a limp form being carried by two of their slaves.

Little by little Tama's father was given all the necessary information about the purposes of Akrabous' visit, his gifts, and the disaster which had befallen them on the way. Whereupon they were all made welcome to the village and were comfortably installed for the night.

Meantime, Taldebert, aware of all that had happened, had taken it upon himself to waylay the returning messengers who had been sent to secure the amulet. He hid himself in a clump of bushes and jumped out so quickly that he had the precious box in his hand before the slave boys knew it. Then a chase ensued but Taldebert was fleeter than the boys. But almost as soon as he returned to the village himself, the slave boys had gained audience of Akrabous who was somewhat better, and described to him their encounter with Taldebert. The amulet could not have fallen into worse hands. Akrabous was much perplexed as to how he should set about recovering it. He dismissed the slaves and decided to get it himself, for he knew that unless he did he would never win Tama.

So with his head bandaged and able to walk only with the support of a staff he crept outside of his tent and looked around. It was late at night now and the moon was high up in the heavens. The ladies had long since retired, having left vacant their seats under the palm trees. Akrabous limped in that direction and was resting there a moment trying to make up his mind what to do next when he noticed afar off a little fluttering, moving figure, near what
[illustration - A messenger came breathlessly riding up—]
he supposed to be the women's quarters. As he watched it, it seemed to be coming in his direction, and while he waited he was conscious that the silence about him was broken for the first time by the notes of a reed flute playing softly in the distance.

The figure came nearer all the time until he could see plainly that it was a woman. He knew at once that it was Tama because only a Princess could be so beautiful. Even in the moonlight he could see the contour of her face. He could see the sheen of her jet black hair, and how tiny her hands and feet were. He could not have wished anything better than that his first meeting with her should be like this—alone and so that he might catch a glimpse of her real self when he was unobserved. He sank back deeper into the shadow of the tree, wondering if she had lost something that she should come back to this spot. Even while he wondered though, she ran lightly past him, straight down the path to his tent, stopping at the edge of the tent she peered around, gave a slight cough and then raised the flap and stepped inside. Seeing it empty she started slowly back down the path.

Akrabous, unable to wait any longer, had started towards her, "My Lady," he began, but before he could finish she had thrust a tiny ring into his hand, saying, "Rub that on a rock if you need help, and say Elkado." Then she ran swiftly away. Akrabous of course could not pursue her, so he stood there looking at the little ring and wondering what she had meant.

Meantime the notes of the flute had died away, and Taldebert who had been playing it was wending his way also towards Akrabous' tent. He had been playing to Tama at her window from the grove. So it was not Tama whom Akrabous had seen, (she was far too dignified for anything of that sort, and too occupied with thoughts of herself besides), but Barbara, her waiting maid. Barbara had overheard a conversation between Taldebert and his friend and she knew that he was planning some bodily harm to Akrabous as well.

Now Barbara had only one thing in the world which she valued and that was the little ring which her grandmother had brought long ago from Egypt and had given her before she died, and she had always planned to use it for herself some time, but her tender little heart had been touched that day to see the tall young warrior lying so helpless, and she was willing to give it up to save his life. Furthermore she did not want her mistress to marry Taldebert for he was so homely and gaunt, and mean, that Barbara knew life with him would not be happy. So when she slipped back into the women's tents unnoticed Barbara breathed a sigh of relief, for she believed now that all was adjusted.

It was indeed fortunate for Akrabous that this had happened, for a few moments after Barbara had left, Taldebert was upon him. He darted out from behind some rocks and sprang upon him. "Dog of a foreigner!" he cried, but Akrabous leaned down quickly and rubbing the ring upon the rocks at his feet repeated "Elkado! Elkado!" Taldebert heard the incantation and being really a coward at heart and fearing anything like witch-craft, turned and fled, dropping the lost amulet on the ground.

There seemed nothing else to do, so Akrabous picked up his amulet, and walked towards his tent, having replaced the cherished ring on his finger.

The next morning he was invited into the general assembly tent, where all of the nobleman's household were gathered. There sat the proud Tama on a wonderfully carved chair with much powder and ochre and paint on her face, and Akrabous knew that she was not the beautiful girl whom he had seen the night before. So his eyes roamed around the room until they rested on Barbara, simple and with no ornamentation on her face. "This is the girl I love," said Akrabous going and bowing in front of her. A wave of consternation passed over all present. Of course much explanation and adjustment followed, but the result of it all was that Akrabous had fallen in love with Barbara and Barbara he meant to have, for he was not a foolish young man, and knew what he wanted when he saw it.

It was difficult for them to get away, but he gave all his presents to Tama's father just the same. He and Barbara did not need costly things to make them happy. With the amulet, and the ring, they journeyed safely back to his home and no doubt Taldebert is still serenading Tama.



NOW of all the things that Happy liked best the one which tickled him most was watermelon. He always felt so sad when old Mr. Wolf Wind came howling out of the north and snapped up all the nice green things down in Georgia, [illustration - "HAPPY"] for that meant that the watermelon vines would be snapped up. Old Mr. Wolf Wind likes watermelons even better than Happy who would eat nothing but the nice red hearts of the melons, while Mr. Wolf Wind would bite vines and all.

Now of all the things that Happy really hated, he hated most Old Man Temptation. He never dreamed that watermelons and Old Man Temptation were cousins and often stayed very close together. Happy never would have believed it if he hadn't found it out in a very dreadful way.

You see Happy disliked Old Man Temptation because he got him to eat Mammy Tibbetts' syrup and it made him sick. He never thought that a really nice goody like watermelon could be a partner to Old Man Temptation in trouble.

It was winter time now in Georgia, but you could hardly believe it because Boy, Waddy and Happy were barefooted, and no one ever bothered about coats; doors were wide open and there would have been watermelons too. Only one night when Mrs. South Wind had gone down to the sea-shore to see what the ladies were wearing, old Mr. Wolf Wind had found that she was gone and had come howling out of the north and eaten all the watermelon vines. Of course Happy could have planted more only in the winter Mrs. South Wind is a very gay lady, and spends most of her time visiting; she won't tend her garden at all. Mr. Wolf Wind watches for her to go away and then he gets her nice greens. Folks just wait for her to get through visiting before they plant their good things.

Happy, Boy and Waddy sat on the beach under the Chinaberry tree trying to think of something new to play.

"Boy, what do you like best of all the things to eat?" asked Happy.

"Let's see. Oh! It's chocolate candy," said Boy.

"And I like pink ice-cream the best and hate castor-oil the worst," said chubby Waddy.

"I hate razor straps the worst," said Boy.

"What do you hate, Happy?"

"Old Man Temptation," said Happy real quick. "But what I like best of all things on this part of the world, on the top side of the world or the bottom side of the world, is watermelon." Then he tried to tell how much he liked watermelon, but of course he couldn't because you cannot make other folks feel just like you, but it did make Boy and Waddy real hungry for watermelon—and would, you believe it? Just then Happy's daddy came along with a big watermelon on his arm, a really truly watermelon that he had hidden in his cave when he had known that Mr. Wolf Wind was coming to make a visit to Georgia. The
boys rubbed their eyes to make sure that it wasn't a dream, then Happy called out:

"Oh! Say Daddy, can we have a bite?"

"Go along with you, Boys, I am taking this watermelon to the store to sell and buy me a new hoe." He placed the melon on the front step while he went to hitch up the old white mule to the cart so he could haul the melon to town.

The boys went over to get a good look at the watermelon. My! it certainly did look fine! Happy thumped it, and it seemed to say: "Have a bite," or maybe it was Old Man Temptation, because he was right behind the porch post. Boy measured the watermelon and found it as long as his leg.

"Pshaw! it's a shame Daddy has to work so hard; he has one very good hoe now and if he has two he will make himself sick hoeing," said Happy looking rather sad.

"He might just hoe until he died," said Waddy.

"Of course he would if he had two hoes," said Boy.

"Poor old Daddy," winked Happy and just then Old Man Temptation began to cry and that made Happy so distressed that he said:

"Here, old watermelon, you are not going to hurt my nice Daddy. I'll fix you; we'll take you out in the woods and hide you, so there!"

In a minute they had the watermelon in a sack and all the boys were carrying it off to the woods, but really Old Man Temptation was carrying the most of it. Very soon they found the cow path and followed it into the big woods and there, among some very tall trees, they put the watermelon down on a nice grassy spot. Of course they couldn't see Old Man Temptation but it was he who really pulled the watermelon from the sack.

"I don't believe it's ripe," said Boy, "it looks awful green." Happy pulled out his sure enough knife and he cut a tiny piece just the size of Waddy's fattest finger. It was as red as a cherry and a million times sweeter, because Happy licked the juice off his knife and said so.

"Oh! of course that one stingy little piece is red but I bet the whole inside isn't," said Waddy.

Happy looked real mad: "I'll just show you two 'know nothings'," and Happy's knife ripped right down the side of that watermelon. It burst wide open as if there was something inside of it that wanted to come out, and there was too, for just as the boys went to stoop over to get a good look at that pretty red melon, they upset themselves getting back; for out of it walked all the watermelon seeds,—lots of very black ones and some very, very white ones, dozens of both kinds. The strange part about them was that they suddenly grew tall—as tall as a sugar cane stalk. And they wore the floppiest black and white dresses which hung from their pointed heads down to the ground. No sooner had they touched the ground than they began to dance. They grabbed Boy, Waddy and Happy by their hands and spun them around in their crazy dance. Then they all joined hands like a ring and danced some more; sometimes they laughed but most of the time those watermelon ghosts howled:

"Woo-ooo-ooo-Woo-oo-ah!" until they sounded worse than Mr. Owl when he starts out on black nights to kill rabbits.

The boys were so scared they couldn't stand up but those dreadful watermelon dancers dragged them about anyway until it seemed as if Waddy's fat arms would be pulled off and Happy was certain that his short legs would soon be as long as fishing poles, yet those watermelon seeds danced on and on singing their terrible: "Woo-ooo-Ah!"

"Please let us go; I'll never bother another watermelon unless it's given to me," begged Happy as he spun around in that crazy dance. Then they did stop but only to do worse. You see the juice had run out of those two watermelon halves and made a beautiful pink lake; it was now splashing among the trees. Those watermelon folks took those two green empty shells, put the boys in them and pushed them out on the juicy waves, while they danced around the lake. No telling what might have happened to those boys but just then Happy's old spotted cow came along and poked her nose right down into that pink lake and the lake disappeared, so did every one of those terrible watermelon seed folks, leaving not so much as one wee watermelon seed behind.

The three boys never stopped to hunt for any though, they went home so fast that Mr. Rabbit who saw them felt ashamed that he couldn't run like that. They didn't stop to open Happy's gate but climbed through a hole in the rail fence. Happy was sure he heard Old Man Temptation at the gate laughing.


Daddy Henry was sitting on the bench under the Chinaberry tree playing his fiddle just as if he didn't know that the boys had taken his watermelon, but he did, because Mammy Tibbetts had heard them talking and told him all about it. He put the fiddle down while Happy told him about the watermelon dance. You would have thought he would have been awful mad but he kind of smiled and scratched his white hair (where he had some), and told those boys he would give them just a week to pay him a dollar for that watermelon or he would have to tell the policeman that some one about there was stealing watermelons.

So the three little boys went without candy; they worked every day doing anything they could find to do, with never a minute to play until at last they paid Happy's daddy one hundred pennies.

Happy always treated his old spotted cow mighty good after that and she always winked her eyes at him too, as if to say:

"What would have become of you and those little white boys if I hadn't come along in the big woods one time and drunk up a certain pink watermelon lake?"



IN the matter of helping the child to overcome weaknesses: he comes to you with traces of wrong habits and you stand bewildered before your task. You are at a loss to account for what you see. One set of these character-weeds you are bound to admit have come to him through you and your line, another set may be Father's contribution; but there are still others that have come, Heaven only could tell you whence. What can you teach that little child about getting the best of these, in the sequence of their development: the thumb-sucking, the squinting, the toeing-in, and all the others? Watch, Mother; Mother dear, what little uncorrected traits have you brought on from your own childhood, acts and omissions so trivial, so almost unnoticeable, that no one ever dreamed of the necessity of calling your attention to them?

In this realm of communicable knowledge, it still is fact, that you cannot teach the baby (or anyone else) things that you do not understand. Do you know that you habitually suck your teeth? (Oh, ever so inoffensively—it annoys no one; it is really nothing at all, my dear.) And do you know that you almost constantly sniff on one side of your nose? (You are always conscious of the act, certainly, and there is a slight difficulty there, I know.) While uncorrected but easily correctable habits remain yours, you can say, "Booful mustn't do," until Booful is forty, with his baby-squint grown old and his toeing-in an embarrassment to all who know and love him. Your teaching in this regard is a futile effort. "Booful" in his walking-ring will gain more actual knowledge about sloughing off some little naughtiness, through your sincere and persistent attempt to correct your own little faults, than by means of all the precepts that you might scatter through all the walking hours of the years that he will be yours to direct. Watch little Mother growing wise in this direction, and see Teacher-dear coming into her own with a trying-hard-to-do-better "Booful", bringing along results that tell for always.

You want this young person on your breast to grow up fine and honest and true, steadfast to principles of right, fair and square every minute of his precious life. Well, to the extent that your life turns towards these qualities, to the extent that your mind, at least, goes habitually towards the finely honest and true, the high of principles, the open and frank and sweet, your child will grow susceptible, will become increasingly teachable in all these valuable subjects. And to the degree that you gravitate towards neglect of the finer side of things, will he be obliged to seek elsewhere for his larger knowledge of noble-heartedness. You cannot say, expecting to teach uprightness, "Dear one, be truthful," and you yourself be resorting even so rarely as now and then to subterfuges. Can you, now?





ON or about the 14th of February, 1817, on a large plantation down on the eastern shore of Maryland, there was born a little Negro slave boy. This child, whom we shall henceforth know as Frederick Douglass, lived with his old grandmother, his mother being hired out by her master. The grandmother was a fisherwoman of much note; she was also skilled in the manufacture of fish nets and was famous for her success in the planting of sweet potatoes. She was treated with more than ordinary respect by all who knew her.

Of the early childhood of Douglass there is little to tell. While in his grandmother Betsy's care he lived in a little cabin which was several miles away from those of the other slaves, as the old lady had been excused from labor on account of her great age. The log but was bare enough; it was neither painted nor whitewashed; it contained two rooms, one above the other—that above with a floor made of fence rails, which did double duty as floor and bed; that below was windowless, with its floor of cold brown clay, and earth-and-straw chimney. The stairway was a ladder. There was little furniture —a table, a stool or two, no stove, but instead a wide chimney place in which sweet potatoes were roasted and corn pone and johnny cake baked.

In such a home as this young Frederick spent the first six years of his life, with none of the diversions considered necessary for the happiness of children. In the summer there were the birds to listen to and the squirrels to watch as they gathered nuts for the long, cold winter; or there was fishing in the Choptank River when his grandmother measured her strong arm with the best of the men in the catching of shad and herring.

Another thing the little fellow found interesting was to draw water from the deep old-fashioned well, so full of mystery to him, and to gaze into its depths at the reflection of the clear blue sky with the woolly white clouds sailing by like great birds. He liked to muse on the hillside and watch the water fall over the wheel of the old mill when the people brought their corn to be ground by Mr. Lee, the miller, and to drop his line, with its hook of bent pin, into the mill-pond for the fish that he never caught.

All these things came to an end when between the age of six and seven he was carried to the home plantation of his master, Colonel Anthony, a large land owner on the banks of the Wye River. The trip of 12 miles was all made on foot by the grandmother, who carried little Frederick in her arms when he grew too tired to walk. Here he met a brother and two sisters—Perry, Sarah, and Elizabeth—of whom he had heard much, but whose relationship to him he could not appreciate.

Life now took on a great change. There was no grandmother on whose lap he might cry out his childish woes and have them soothed away by her kindly hands. Instead, there was Aunt Kate, who, having been given unusual authority by her master, was very cruel and unkind to the plantation young folks, who were all under her care. She gave them very little to eat, and young Douglass often fought for crumbs and other fragments of food with Nep, the watch dog. To dip his bread into the water in which bacon had been boiled was a luxury, while a bit of rusty bacon rind was the greatest of delicacies. Too young to work in the fields, he had to drive the cows up at sunset, keep the front yard clean, and go small errands for his young mistress. This lady was very kind to him and often gave him bread and even butter from her own table. He learned a trick of singing under her window when very hungry; she soon understood what was expected of her and accordingly remunerated the singer with food, which was often Maryland biscuit, and thus he formed a liking for that delicacy which he never outgrew.

There was no difference between his life and that of the other slave boys and girls. He, like them, had neither shoes nor stockings, jackets nor trousers. Two coarse tow linen shirts were all that were given for the whole year, and if these were worn out before allowance day came, the little one went naked until that time came again. There were no beds; the children slept in the corners, often near the chimney, in order to keep warm, for only adults were given a blanket, and that was a rough one. Douglass
slept in a little closet, he shared the children's regular diet, which was a large trough of corn meal mush from which all ate at once, each scooping out his share with an oyster shell or a piece of shingle. Of course the one who could eat most quickly and was the strongest got the lion's share. Before he was twelve years old he went to Baltimore. Great were the preparations made for this most eventful trip. The best part of three days he spent in the creek, for he had been promised a pair of pants—his first—on this condition however, that he made himself exceedingly clean. The warning had the desired result. He received the trousers and became so excited that he could not sleep for fear of being left.

Having reached the city he entered the family of a relative of his master. Here his duty was to attend the wants of a little boy about his own age. This marked an epoch in the life of our hero, for he was given a comfortable room to sleep in and plenty of good food to eat.

His new mistress, Mrs. Auld, unused to slaves, manifested much interest in him, and even allowed him to stand at her knee and learn his letters with her little son Thomas. She was so pleased with his progress that she told her husband, who became angry and requested her to stop teaching the little "nigger" at once, which she did. Young Douglass had, however, become ambitious, and though Mrs. Auld gave him no more lessons, it was out of the question to expect him to give up trying to learn. He earned a few dimes blacking boots, and with these he bought the "Columbia Orator", a book he had heard some white schoolboys mention. These boys had given him, also, much assistance in learning how to spell.

Although at this time he was still very young, he had already begun to feel a growing discontent at being a slave, and two selections contained in the Orator had much to do with increasing his dissatisfaction. These were "A Dialogue between the Master and his Slave", in which the slave argued so well that he was emancipated; and the great English orator Sheridan's speech on "Catholic Emancipation".

For seven years he remained in Baltimore. During this time he became acquainted with a pious old man known as Uncle Lawson. This poor slave was a person of much religious devotion and through his influence Douglass' thoughts were centered on his Creator, and once in this frame of mind he became more cheerful. Little Thomas Auld had meantime become a great schoolboy and no longer needed his care. He was, therefore, given work in the shipyard of Mr. Hugh Auld, and in this work he learned to write in a most novel way by copying the letters "L", "S", "L. A." and "S. A." which meant Larboard, Starboard, Larboard-aft, and Starboard-aft, and were to be found on the sides of vessels. Encouraged by his success he began copying the italics in Webster's spelling book, and ended up by taking possession of some finished copy books of Thomas Auld which had been most carefully put away as treasures by the latter's mother. These *Douglass used as tracing books. Night after night when his hard day's work was ended, in a bare little garret bedroom he worked by the light of a tallow candle with an old barrel for a desk.

Through many changes brought about by the death of his old master, Douglass found himself at St. Michael's, Md., in 1833, with a new master and mistress.

Until Christmas Day, 1834, he was hired to a very cruel man named Covey, who starved

Until he reached New Bedford, Mr. Douglass had answered to the name Frederick Bailey, in order to be less easily traced after his escape from slavery. He decided to change his name, and acting upon the suggestion of an ex-slave, who had read the story of Douglass of Scotland he chose for himself the same name, which he afterward bore quite as well as the brave Scot.

and beat him unmercifully. Douglass' strong resentment at the indignities put upon him by this man gave him the determination to resist Covey's second attempt to whip him. This he did with so much physical force that the latter was absolutely beaten and badly hurt. The moral effect of his victory upon the slave lad was that from the hour of his conquest he was in mind a free man. The next man who hired him was very kind. On his farm he did very hard work as a field hand. Here he opened a Sunday School and had about thirty pupils, when it was broken up by the masters of the members. A second school was opened and secretly conducted in the woods.

In the beginning of the year 1836 Douglass made a vow that before its close he would make an effort to free himself. This determination he made known to five of his friends who were likewise inclined, and they began to make arrangements to that end. Passes were written, food prepared, and clothing packed. The plan was to go down the river in an open boat and around up the bay toward Delaware. The plot was betrayed, however, on the very day fixed for departure, by one of the five who had his courage lessened by a Friday night's dream. The young men were carried to jail and a search was made for the passes which Douglass had written. These were not found, for Douglass had thrown his into the fire and the others had eaten theirs on the road. They were imprisoned at Easton, but all were set free after a few months, except Douglass, for it was generally understood that he had orginated the plan. So he was detained much longer with the threat of being sent South. This did not happen, for he was finally sent again to Baltimore to learn a trade, with a promise that he should be free at the age of twenty-five.

During the spring and summer of 1836 he worked at calking in the shipyard of Mr. Gardiner. Here he was nearly killed by the poor white apprentices, who objected to working with a Negro. These things—contact with free men of his own race and the fact that he was forced to hand over each Saturday night all that he had earned during the week to a white man—served to make him more discontented with slavery. He sought and was at first refused the privileges of hiring his own time. It was afterward given him only to be taken away within a few months. Although disappointed in this venture, which he had intended should be a step nearer freedom, he was not despondent, but determined to make another effort to secure his heart's desire.

Accordingly on the 3rd of September, 1838, dressed in a sailor's outfit borrowed from a sailor friend, with a sailor's passport in his pocket, and a little money furnished by the woman who afterwards became his wife, he boarded a moving train in Baltimore, in order to avoid the showing of free papers, of which he had none, answering the usual questions and measuring,—all of which were necessary when a colored person attempted to buy a railroad ticket. While on the train he was several times exposed to the view of those who knew him, but so complete was his disguise, that he reached New York City twenty-four hours after starting, without accident. Fearing to remain in New York where there was every danger of being discovered and returned to slavery, and discouraged by his failure to secure work, he left in a few days for New Bedford, Mass., accompanied by his wife, who, being a free woman had left Baltimore immediately after his departure and had joined him in New York, where they were married.

In New Bedford he was variously employed as charboy, as worker in an oil refinery, and in a brass foundry; in this latter position the work was very hard, but so great was his desire for knowledge that often while at work over a furnace hot enough to keep metals in a liquid state, he would nail a newspaper to the post before him and read as he worked.

The first Anti-Slavery Convention he attended was in Nantucket, in 1841. Here he met William Lloyd Garrison, who was then a young man, and afterward became famous as an abolitionist. Mr. Douglass was introduced to the public in this meeting by W. C. Coffin, another noted abolitionist, and made a speech which was so impressive that he was invited to become an agent of the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society. This he did. With other members of the organization it now became his duty to go about in the New England States and protest against slavery. Sometimes he suffered many indignities; again he was treated with deference and respect. In Grafton, N. H., he was refused the use of any hall or church in which to assemble an audience. So great was his determination to speak in the town, in spite of this opposition, that he borrowed a dinner bell from the hotel and went through the streets crying
out, "Notice! Frederick Douglass, recently a slave, will lecture on American slavery, on the common, this evening. Those who would like to hear the working of slavery by one of the slaves are respectifully invited to attend." He had a crowd that evening and afterward there was no trouble in the effort to secure an assembly hall in Grafton.

He was made to ride in Jim-Crow cars. On one occasion, when avoiding these cars, he was beaten by the brakeman. On another, when refusing to take second-class fare on a first-class ticket, the conductor and others, in the attempt to move him, brought away also a part of the seat to which he clung most firmly. While lecturing in Indiana he was beset by a mob who threw bad eggs at him and his associates, and used such personal violence that Douglass was left with a broken hand and unconscious.

All of this public speaking was attended with great danger. There was every possibility of his being captured and returned to slavery, and there was also the liability of death at the hands of Southerners or their sympathizers. Consequently about the year 1844 he decided to leave America and become a refugee in England.

While in Great Britain he associated with such kindred spirits as John Bright, Peel, O'Connell, Disraeli, and many other famous statesmen. Affinity with such persons served to imbue him with a larger love for freedom. Unlimited opportunities were given him for addressing the public—one being at the World's Temperance Convention, held in Covent Garden, London. While abroad the sum of one hundred fifty pounds sterling was collected by English friends and sent to Hugh Auld as purchase money and thus Frederick Douglass became literally a free man. After remaining away nearly two years, he returned to America despite the protests of friends on the other side of the water and again took up active work for the liberation of slaves.

Discouraged in the effort to edit an Anti-Slavery paper in Boston, he moved to Rochester, New York, and there in the fall of 1847, issued the North Star, afterward known as Frederick Douglass' Paper. Mr. Douglass received material aid from such men as Gerritt Smith, Chief Justice Chase, William H. Seward, and Charles Sumner.

He made another visit to England in 1850, due to fear of arrest and implication of complicity in the John Brown raid at Harper's Ferry, W. Va. But he returned to America as soon as the threatened danger was past, to take up his work again with new zeal.

During the Civil War which soon followed this raid, Mr. Douglass was active in the raising of the 54th Massachusetts Regiment of colored troops, whose magnificent work under Colonel Shaw at Fort Wagner, South Carolina, can never be forgotten. He also visited President Lincoln and Secretary of War Stanton, in the hope of securing commissions for colored men, who until then had been enlisted only as privates. In this he was unsuccessful, though the Secretary promised him a position as Adjutant to General Thomas, then in the Mississippi Valley. He waited for it anxiously, but the papers never came.

When the war ended in 1865, and the slaves were emancipated, Mr. Douglass took up a new line of work as a public lecturer. His favorite topic was, "Self Made Men". In this he was very successful. His high sense of honor and right impelled him to decline to follow the advice of many friends to go South and live in a thickly populated Negro district, in order to come to Congress through their vote. In the early 70's he took up a residence in Washington, and became editor-in-chief of a race paper —The New National Era. The promised support not being given, he afterward bought this paper and gave over the management of the same to two of his sons, Lewis and Frederick.

Mr. Douglass became president of the Freedman's Bank, an institution in which the recently emancipated slaves all over the country were encouraged to deposit their earnings, and in vindication of his fair name, let it be understood that he lost no time in ascertaining the true condition of the bank, and this done, he endeavored at once to restore things to their proper condition, and to meet as far as possible, the honest demands of the depositors. In this he was thwarted by the directors and other officers of the bank.

In June, 1871, he made an address at Arlington on the occasion of dedicating the monument to the unknown dead. He also made the address at the unveiling of the *Lincoln Monument in Lincoln Park, Washington, D. C.

On the death of Vice-President Wilson, he was one of those appointed to accompany the

* Much of the money which purchased this monument was contributed by ex-slaves.

body to Boston. He was made Marshal* of the District of Columbia by President Hayes, in 1877. Before this time he served in the Legislature for the Government of the District, now replaced by a Board of three Commissioners. Mr. Douglass served also on a Commission sent by President Grant to Santo Domingo to consider the annexation of that Island with the United States. Through the appointment of President Garfield he held the position of Recorder of Deeds(t) for nearly five years. Until then no colored man had received this office. Since that time it has until recently always been given to a member of Mr. Douglass' race. (i)

In 1886, Mr. Douglass having previously married a second time, made the third and last trip to Europe, accompanied by his wife, a lady of the Caucasian race. This trip included many old and renowned cities in the southern part of the Continent, and extended even to Egypt.

In 1886 he was appointed to his last public office by President Harrison, as United States Minister to Haiti. As if to show her great confidence and esteem in him, Haiti made him her representative to the World's Fair in Chicago, in 1893. The appreciation of this compliment Mr. Douglass showed by his efforts to place the little Republic on a level with her sister governments at this mammoth exhibition of the world's progress.

On the 20th of February, 1895, the life of this grand man came suddenly to an end at Cedar Hill in Anacostia, D. C., shortly after reaching home from a meeting of the National Council of Women. There was neither pain nor suffering. Funeral services were conducted in the Metropolitan A. M. E. Church in Washington, D. C. It is estimated that upward of ten thousand people of both races viewed the remains as they lay in state in this church, he loved so well, while nigh three thousand gained admission to the services. He was buried in Mount Hope Cemetery at Rochester, N. Y.

Long and lasting will be the influence of Frederick Douglass. His life is a sublime inspiration to his race. As an orator he has had no equal—forcible, strong, and true in his utterances, full of quiet and gentle humor—one never tired of hearing him. He always had something to say and was a master hand at saying it. Personally he had a magnetic force which drew all to him. He was of noble bearing, and possessed a physique of handsome proportions, crowned by a glorious head of silvery-white hair. His kindly voice and warm hand grasp dispersed the fears of the most timid at once. He was a believer in the righteousness of woman's suffrage and lifted up his voice many times in a struggle for woman's rights. He was a lover of little children and was passionately fond of animals. He never whipped his horses and his voice was sufficient to calm them, no matter how frightened they were. He loved vocal and instrumental music, had a magnificent voice for singing, and was a great admirer of the violin, which he often played.

A monument to the memory of Mr. Douglass was unveiled in one of the public squares of Rochester, N. Y., on June 6, 1899. The Governor of the State, Hon. Theodore Roosevelt, made the address. Over thirty thousand strangers visited the city on this occasion. A singular incident is, that until this time Rochester had had but one monument, that of the great Emancipator, Lincoln.

* The Marshal of the District supervises the execution of all orders of the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia, such as arresting prisoners for grand larceny, felony, murder, and the like, and the extradition of prisoners who are to appear before that court, either in civil or criminal cases. This official also leads the Inaugural Processions. Mr. Douglass led that of President Garfield.

(t) The Recorder of Deeds is appointed by the President of the United States. This office is located in the United States Court House, better known as the City Hall, in the city of Washington, D. C. It is his duty to supervise the recording of all deeds, contracts, and other instruments in writing affecting the title or ownership of real or personal property in the District.

(i) I President Wilson appointed an Indian to this position.

[illustration - CLEANING-UP]
SOME days I go about to sweep
And think I shan't do much,
Besides just sweeping my own room,—
The others I'll not touch;
But when I get it shining clean,
The other rooms just look so mean
I turn and sweep them through and through,
And they look so much better too!
Just then my eyes are sure to see
Some dirt specks here and there;
I'll wash the mirrors till they shine
And rub up every chair.
Then wash the windows in and out
And clean the facing round about.
I'm tired out when it is all done.
But cleaning up is lots of fun!
Some days I feel real mean and cross
And everything goes wrong.
I stop and clean up in my heart—
Maybe my broom's a song.
I sweep cobwebby thoughts away—
And let the sunbeams in to play.
That seems the nicest way to do,
And I feel so much better, too!



THE world squirms and rattles beneath my flying wings. I hear the laughter of little folk, the growl of men and the sweet sleep of the dead. I see the trees and waters and the great wild winds come down and up and swing me to and fro. But on and up I fly and fly to find the bits of news for my sweet babies—my dark Children of the Sun.

  • The world is still at war and thousands are suffering and dying. In western Asia the English are fighting to seize the oil fields. The Russians are fighting the Persians in order to beat back the English. In southern Russia some of the Cossacks under Wrangel are fighting the Soviet Government. In western Russia the Russians have nearly overcome the Poles and are about to seize Warsaw. In Asia Minor the Greeks are fighting the Turks. In Syria the French are fighting the Arabs. In Siberia the Japanese have seized the northern part of Sakhalin Island and are in possession of nearly all the country east of Lake Baikal. In China, civil war is smouldering, while in Mexico civil war seems just ending. In Ireland civil war is just beginning, and in Spain, Italy, Hungary and Germany, not to mention Egypt and India there is deep and portentous unrest.
  • Seventy thousand dead American soldiers are lying on French soil and their graves have been decorated. Among them are a thousand American Negroes.
  • Adolfo de la Huerta has been elected provisional president of Mexico.
  • A hundred delegates have met in London to study the housing problem. During the war, material which would have been made into houses was diverted to munitions and other war uses, and labor that would have been put upon dwellings was put on war-work. Thus for more than four years the world has not been building its shelter and now because of the natural decay of houses and the increase of population, millions are homeless and other millions crowded. Such are the costs of war.
  • The Treaties of Peace between the Allies and Hungary and between the Allies and Turkey have finally been signed. The city of Budapest put on mourning and tolled the bells because the peace was so humiliating. Many of the Turks refuse to accept the peace and are still fighting.
  • Conference has been held at the Hague, Holland, at the invitation of the League of Nations to organize a permanent International Court of Justice. The members of the court will probably be elected by the Council and the Assembly of the League of Nations.
  • During the war 1,362,872 French soldiers were killed and 1,350,000 Germans were killed.
  • The Belgium Parliament has adopted a law which enables women to be elected to membership.
  • There are in Germany 525,000 war widows, 1,130,000 war orphans, and 500,000 maimed persons and consumptives who have to be supported by charities.
  • The German national debt is 265,000,000,000 marks.
  • It is reported that the English are conferring with Egyptian Nationalists on a plan which will allow the latter national government but leave the control of foreign affairs in the hands of the English.
  • The Council of the League of Nations has met several times but the Assembly will meet for the first time November 15. In the Council only a few of the greater nations are represented, but all nations are represented in the Assembly. It is possible that the Assembly may in time become the real seat of world government, just as the power of Congress rests in the House of Representatives and of Parliament in the House of Commons.
  • Francisco Villa, the well known Mexican bandit, has surrendered to the new government and has been pardoned.

[illustration - Wounded Soldiers]
  • The former Empress Eugenie is dead at the age of 94. She was a daughter of a grandee of Spain and married Napoleon III, Emperor of France. For a time she was the most conspicuous and beautiful leader of the fashionable world of Europe. After Napoleon was overthrown by the Germans she retired to England. Her son went with the English and aided their dishonest attempt to overthrow the Zulus in South Africa. He was killed.
  • The Treaty of Alliance between Great Britain and Japan which expires this year has been temporarily extended one year. The re-signing of this treaty brings up the old question of race equality between the whites and darker peoples. Australia, where a handful of white men are holding a whole continent and refusing to let colored people come in, is desperately afraid that if Japan is more and more recognized as an equal the migration of the Japanese cannot be stopped.
  • In the United States there are 80,000 Japanese in California. They are thrifty and honest and are the best farmers in the state. For this reason the whites hate them and are trying to keep them from buying land and working. Their excuse is that the Japanese want to marry the whites, which is, of course, untrue.
  • Fifty-one countries were represented at the International Congress of Communists which met at Petrograd, Russia.
  • Experts have succeeded in telephoning without wires from England to Newfoundland, a distance of over 2,000 miles.

HOME, home again! By the towers of the Kremlin and the Golden Gate; over St. Peters and the Opera, away down by the Golden Azores and up by the silver cliffs of England and then in one mad whirl—Haiti, Cuba, New Orleans, St. Louis and you, Billikins, YOU!

  • The Presidential campaign has begun. Each of the two candidates for President and Vice-President nominated by the Democrats and Republicans has been formally notified of his nomination; they have replied in long speeches in which they set forth their beliefs and policy more or less clearly.
  • A woman, Mrs. Annette A. Adams, has been made first Assistant Attorney General of the United States.
  • Eugene V. Debs, Socialist nominee for the presidency, is a prisoner in the Atlanta penitentiary because he did not believe in war and said so. He is a brave man of fine character and repeated appeals have been made to President Wilson to pardon him; but of course President Wilson refuses.
  • We must not forget that there are hundreds of other "conscientious objectors",—that is, men who believe that war is absolutely wrong under any circumstances,—who were thrown into prison during the war and are still held there, often suffering many cruelties and indignities. It may have been necessary to incarcerate these people during actual hostilities, but to keep them in jail now is nothing less than idiotic barbarity.
  • Before the war the United States owed between 4 and 5 billion dollars to foreign nations. Today foreign nations owe us 12 billion dollars. This is because of our great exports of war materials and food, on account of the catastrophe of war, which Europe has not yet been able to repay.
  • In North Dakota a political party called the Non-Partisan League has been making interesting experiments in carrying on industry by the state so as to eliminate profiteers who regard business simply as a means of making money. The United States Supreme Court has just handed down a decision declaring that it is permissible for a state thus to conduct industry.
  • Congress has adjourned and will not assemble again until December 6 unless convoked by the President. During that time, on November 2, a new president will be elected and new members of Congress. The new president will be inaugurated March 4, 1921; but the new Congress will not meet until December, 1921.
  • During the last Congress 20,000 bills and resolutions were introduced, of which something over 300 became law.
  • The population of the largest cities in the United States by the census of 1920 is as follows: New York City, 5,021,151; Philadelphia, 1,823,158; Detroit, 992,739.
  • Harry Wills, the colored heavyweight prize fighter, has beaten all opponents and is now challenging the champion Jack Dempsey.
  • Congress before adjourning passed the Jones
    Shipping Bill, which is an attempt to give American shipping certain advantages over foreign shipping in American ports. Foreign nations are protesting against this as not only unfair but illegal on account of their treaty rights. The Department of State is investigating.
  • For a time the Attorney-General of the United States tried to prove that everybody belonging to the Communist Party was a member of an illegal organization, but federal Judge Anderson at Boston decided that the party is legal. The Communists agree with the Bolsheviki in Russia and do not recognize the right of private property.
  • A special session of the Legislature has been called by the Governor of Tennessee to consider the suffrage amendment. Ratification by one or more states is necessary in order to allow women to vote in all states in the next presidential election.
  • The total population of the United States for 1920 is not yet known but it is estimated to be 105,000,000.
  • There are in the United States over 20,000,000 depositors in national banks, or one for every five persons.
  • Major General William C. Gorgas, former Surgeon General in the U. S. Army, died in London. He was the man who stamped out yellow fever in the tropics.
  • During the year ending June 30 a larger number of foreigners left the United States than came in.
  • Some of the restrictions upon trade with Russia have been removed by the United States, but the President has issued a statement in which he asserts that the present government of Russia is not the government that the people want and that he will not recognize it. He does not tell us where he gets his information.
  • A third political party has been formed called the Farmer-Labor Party, consisting of the Labor Party, the Committee of 48, the Single Tax Party, the Non-Partisan League and others. it declares for universal suffrage without regard to sex or color.
  • During the year 1919 there were 3,374 strikes and lock-outs in the United States, affecting 4,000,000 workers.
  • Five thousand men who evaded the draft during the war have been given prison sentences. There remain 30,000 cases to be investigated.
  • Many years ago a cup was given to be raced for by yachts. It was won by an American yacht and has since been in this country. According to the rules any yachting club in good standing may send a challenge for a race. Sir Thomas Lipton, an Englishman, has tried several times to win the cup and has just failed again, his yacht, the Shamrock, being beaten by the Resolute. Yachting is beautiful but costly pleasure.
  • The United States Railway Labor Board has granted wage increases aggregating $600,000,000 on petition of the Labor Unions. In order to meet this expenditure the railroads will be allowed to increase their rates from 25 to 40 per cent. This vast increase is granted because of the terms of the railway bill passed by the last Congress. The United States guarantees the railroads a profit of 6 per cent. Suppose the United States should guarantee every grocery store a similar profit. How we would protest!
  • Air mail service between New York and San Francisco will start in September.
  • The National Association of Negro Musicians held its second annual convention in New York City. All of the leading colored musicians were present. There were many beautiful concerts.
  • Roland Hayes, the colored tenor, is singing in London and receiving much praise.
  • J. Rosamond Johnson, the colored composer, is appearing in many vaudeville houses with an excellent program of Negro music.
  • The 13th biennial convention of the National Association of Colored Women's Clubs met in Tuskegee. Miss Hallie Quinn Brown was elected president.

[illustration - John Bolden]


A KING once went hunting and was lost in the forest. Toward evening he came to a charcoal burner's hut, and asked if he could spend the night there.

In the middle of the night he saw three ladies dressed in white standing by the cradle in in which lay the charcoal burner's baby.

One of them said, "Bad luck go with this child!"

The second said, "He may turn it to good."

And the third, "He shall marry the king's daughter."

The king was very angry at this, but he said nothing. The next day, when the charcoal burner had shown him the way to his city, he said, "Give me your child. I will take him to court, where he shall make his fortune."

But instead of doing this, the king told a servant to put the boy in a basket and fling him into the river. The basket floated down the stream until a fisherman drew it ashore and took the child to his wife. The boy lived with them until he was twenty years old; they called him Nameless.

One day the king passed by and saw him, and said to the fisherman, "Is this handsome youth your son?"

"No," said the fisherman, "I fished him out of the river twenty years ago."

The king was terrified to find the charcoal burner's child was still alive, and said, "Let him take this letter from me to the queen."

In the letter he wrote, "Dear wife, have this youth put to death at once or he will bring us all great harm."

Nameless took the letter, but lost his way in the forest. Presently he met a lady in white, who said to him, "Come and rest in my hut awhile. Then I will show you the way to the queen."

While the boy slept, she burned the letter and put in its place one that read, "Dear wife, let this youth marry our daughter at once or great harm will come to us."

When Nameless reached the city, he was greatly surprised and pleased to find that he was to marry the princess. When the king came back, he found that the wedding was over, but he concealed his anger and only said, "You must prove yourself worthy to be my son- in-law. Go and get me three golden hairs from the head of the Sun-King; then shall you be king and rule with me." In this way, he hoped to be rid of him.

[illustration - "She twitched out a hair!" Marcellus Hawkins 21 ]

Nameless set out very sorrowfully for he and his wife loved each other.

As he wandered, he came to a great black lake, on which a white boat floated. He called out, "Boat ahoy! Come and ferry me over."

The old ferryman said, "I will, but you must promise when you come back to tell me how to escape from this boat."

Nameless promised. Presently he came to a great city. There he met an old man who asked, "Whither away?"

"To the Sun-King," said Nameless.

Then the old man led him before the king of that place, who said, "Twenty years ago there was a fountain in our city that made everyone young who drank of it. Now it is dry, and only the Sun-King knows the reason. You must ask him why this is so."

Nameless promised and went on.

He arrived presently at another city where an old man asked him, "Whither away?"

"To the Sun-King."

Then this old man led him before the king, who said, "Twenty years ago stood a tree that bore golden apples. Whoever ate of them grew young and healthy and never died. But the tree has ceased to bear fruit, and only the Sun-King knows why this is so."

Nameless promised and went on. Soon he came to a great mountain, where he saw an old lady in white sitting in front of a beautiful house.

She asked him, "Whither away?',

"To the Sun-King."

"Come in," she said, "I am his mother. Every day he flies out of this house as a little child, at midday he becomes a man, and in the evening he returns a graybeard."

She made Nameless tell her all his story, and said she would ask her son the three questions.

"But now," she added, "you must hide; for if he finds you here, he will burn you up."

She hid him in a great vessel of water and bade him keep quiet.

In the evening, the Sun-King came home, a feeble old man. When he had eaten his supper he laid his head in his mother's lap and fell fast asleep. She began to comb his golden hair.

When she twitched out a hair, he said, "Mother, why won't you let me sleep?"

She answered, "I dreamed of a city in which a tree of golden apples bear no more fruit; and I am troubled because I cannot think what the people should do."

The Sun-King said, "They should kill the serpent that gnaws at the root of the tree."

Presently she twitched out another hair, and he said, "Mother, why can't you let me sleep?"

She answered, "I dreamed of a city in which the fountain of youth has run dry; and I am troubled because I cannot think what the people should do."

The Sun-King said, "They should kill the toad that blocks the source of the spring."

After a time she twitched out the third hair, and he said, "Mother, do let me sleep."

She answered, "I dreamed of an old ferryman on the black lake; and I wonder how he can escape so that he can die and be in peace."

The Sun-King said, "Let him hand the oars to another and jump ashore; the other must stop in his place."

Then she let him sleep.

Early the next morning he arose and flew away as a little child.

The white lady gave Nameless the three golden hairs and kissed him saying, "Now I have done all I have promised. Go back to your wife and be happy."

When he came to the city of the golden tree, and the fountain of youth, he told the two kings what they should do, and received a rich reward. When he reached the black lake, the ferryman rowed him over gladly for the news that he brought.

He arrived at home and gave the king the three golden hairs. The king was furious in his heart, but he said to himself, "I must go and drink of that wonderful spring and eat of those wonderful apples."

When he reached the black lake, the ferryman handed the king the oars and jumped out, so that the king had to stay in his place.

As he never came home again, Nameless and his beautiful wife ruled the land in peace and prosperity.

[illustration - Advisory Council, Oakwood Ave. Y.W.C.A., Orange, N.J.]



BILLIE is singing at the top of his voice:

"By a-luck-y spec-u-lation, he a-million-made!"

"Impossible!" says the Judge.

"I beg pardon, sir," says William, "but here it is in the paper. 'Mr. Bonzi makes millions by speculation'."

"It cannot be done," insists the Judge.

"Of course," admits Wilhelmina. "Only governments actually make money."

"Well, then, somebody DOES make money," says William.

"But not by a lucky speculation," answers the Judge calmly.

"Well, then, how do they make it?" asks William.

"By stamping gold or silver," says Wilhelmina.

"And where do they get the metals?"

"Buy them."

"What! does the United States have to buy gold?"

"Certainly—or borrow it. Did you think it manufactured it?" asks the Judge.

"But it might print the money," says Billie.

"Surely—and print 'One Dollar' on a cent's worth of paper and make 99 cents clear," returns the Judge, smiling.

"O that wouldn't go; people wouldn't believe what the government said," answers William.

"But the government does do it," says Billie.

"Is that so? Show me a dollar."

"Whoopee! Haven't had one since Hector was a pup!"

"By the way, when WAS Hector—" but Wilhelmina interrupts:

"Here's a dollar bill."

"Read it!" says the Judge.

"The Federal Reserve Bank of New York will pay the bearer on demand one dollar."

"And here's another," says William.

"The United States of America will pay the bearer"—

"And another"—

"One silver dollar payable to the Bearer on demand."

"See, they are not real money--they are just receipts and promises made by the government."

"What IS real money then?" asks Billie.

"Gold or silver or something else valuable."

"And how do people make valuable things?"

"By work."

"Not by speculating?"

"No, nor by stealing—by work."

"Then all wealthy people worked—"

"I regret to say—No," says the Judge. "But wealth is made by SOMEBODY'S work. After it is made it may be given to others or stolen by others or borrowed, but only honest work makes wealth."

"But is ALL wealth made by work?"

"No, some wealth is made by Nature, like coal, oil and diamonds."

"And whom does that belong to?"

"It ought to belong to the Nation, but it often belongs to the man who finds it first."

"That's lucky, ain't it?"

"Yes, it's luck."

"And suppose you find something that ain't worth anything today and tomorrow everybody wants it?"

"That's speculation," says the Judge. So Billie retorts:

"So speculation DOES make money!"

"No, the people's sudden new wants or needs MAKE the value."

"But who GETS the money?" asks William.

"The speculator," answers the Judge—"but who ought to get it?" and the Judge answers himself: "The People. And this, my dears, is the Philosophy of Wealth."

"But Mr. Bonzi DID make millions by speculation"—insists William.

"No, he GOT them," says the Judge.

Wilhelmina remains in a brown study.


Our Little Friends



I AM a pupil of Charles Sumner School No. 23. I am in the 6-A grade and am 11 years old. In our history class we have an Americanization Club. Each child has a name such as Dean Kelly Miller and other noted people of the times, which we are called by in club. My name is Mrs. Hunton. It is a delight to see how each child tries to live up to the standard her name calls for.

When I was in the 5-A grade I won first honor for giving a four-minute talk on the third Liberty Bond. It was a certificate from Washington, D. C. When I get grown I want to make great lectures like Mrs. Hunton. I expect to get some encouragement from THE BROWNIES' BOOK which I like very much.

FLORA SUMMERS, Indianapolis, Ind.

WE, a band of brownies from Acorn Glen, stride up in our russet doublets to offer thanks to the publishers of BROWNIES' BOOK. We like to flatter ourselves with the hope that the BOOK was named for us, yet are almost sure that it bears the title, BROWNIES' BOOK, in honor of the hosts of brown boys and girls who are to read it with pride.

Nothing in our woodland glade could be more wholesome than this bright little sprite of the press. No star at which we peep through the beech trees shines with more brilliancy than the star of hope that BROWNIES' BOOK keeps aglow from month to month for the eyes of brown boys and girls.

Reported for the Acorn Glenners by MARY EFFIE LEE.

I AM a pupil of Douglass School, Pittsburg, Kansas. I am twelve years old and I am in the 8-B class. I am a reader of THE BROWNIES' BOOK and also an agent. I think THE BROWNIES' BOOK is a very good book for children to read and all the children think so in my town. I hope to become a musician in the future. I am taking piano lessons now. My teacher's name is Mrs. E. English.

NEVA COL, Pittsburg, Kansas.

WE have a big garret in our house and on rainy days my mother sends us up there to play. There are piles and piles of old papers and magazines up there and some books about Elsie Dinsmore. I do not like the books very much but I love the papers and magazines even though they are so old. Isn't it funny, things seem so much truer if you read about them when they're all over than they do while they're happening?

I like the garret so much now that even when it isn't raining I go up there anyhow, if it's not too hot. It is lovely to play out all the thoughts and stories which you have in your mind. I can just see all the princesses in the fairy-tales standing tall and white in the corners and Tom Thumb and Puss In Boots. There are little windows and if you look out them you can see for miles around. Sometimes I play I'm sister Anne—she was Bluebeard's wife's sister, you know,—and sometimes I think I see a magic forest with all the trees talking to each other. In the morning when I look out the earth is very shining and yellow in the heat. Then I think of the piece Wordsworth wrote about the daffodils. I like that best of anything I ever read. We keep Wordsworth up in the garret too. The book he wrote belonged to an aunt of mine who died years ago.

Don't you think our garret sounds like a nice place?

SYBIL BORDEN, Ithaca, New York.

SCHOOL begins in September. The Summer flies so fast! Tell me, Mr. Judge, did you really and truly like to go to school when you were my age? I am eleven. Mother says you did. Maybe studies were more interesting in those days. Please tell us some time how you felt when vacation was over.

PETER BOYD, New York City.



Four Games from St. Helena

DEAR "Brownie" children:

Wouldn't it be splendid if all the little Brownie readers could make visits to all the other little Brownies! Although I am sure each one of us lives in what would prove an interesting place, yet no place I am sure is just like St. Helena. This is one of a group of little islands lying off the coast between Charleston, South Carolina, and Savannah, Georgia. there are perhaps five thousand boys and girls who live here with their fathers and mothers working and playing, and praying for better days. We are isolated from the mainland partly because the way one must travel to reach our island is long and tedious. But I will tell you more of that another time—for this is playtime.


The players form a ring--a leader is chosen who asks the questions to which all the other players reply in concert.

Leader: Mary?

All: Ma’am?

Leader: Have you seen my turkeys?

All: Yes, Ma’am!

Leader: Which way did they go?

All (pointing south): So!

Leader: Will you help me find them?

All: Yes, Ma’am!

Leader: Get ready. Let’s go.

At this all face to right and skip around ring in single file calling seven times: “Shoo! Turkey, shoo! Shoo! Shoo!” then stopping and then:—

Leader: Mary?

All: Ma’am?

Leader: Did you go to her nest?

All: Yes, ma’am.

Leader: Did you get any eggs?

All: Yes, ma’am.

Leader: Did you put them in the corn bread?

All: Yes, ma’am.

Leader: Did you bake it brown?

All: Yes, ma’am.

Leader: Did you take it up town?

All: Yes, ma’am.

Leader: Did you share it all around?

All: Yes ma’am.

Leader: How did it taste?

All: Sweet! Sweet! (then face right and skip around in ring as before saying over seven times): Good ole lady, come taste ‘em! taste ‘em! taste ‘em!


The children form a circle holding hands. Leader stands outside circle. He calls:

Big fat biscuit!

All reply: Shoo-de-loo!

Leader continues: Just from the kitchen!

All answer again: Shoo-de-loo!

Leader calls on some one child in circle as:

Son Brown! Jump over yonder!

Before the chorus of voices has finished again with: Shoo-de-loo! Son Brown must jump across the circle to a place directly opposite where he is standing.

Leader continues calling on different children until some child who is not quick enough is forced out. Then this child changes places with the leader and so the game goes on.


Leader stands in centre of floor with long stick in his hand. The children form a semicircle before him. He asks: Who cut the roundabout?

All the children answer: The tailor cut the roundabout.

This question and its answer are repeated twice--then Leader continues: A very fine roundabout.

Children answer as before: The tailor cut the roundabout.

The players seldom reach this point of the game because someone has surely been caught and with a new leader the game has started over. While the leader talks he several times
turns completely round about—now if before he turns, he raps on the floor (or the ground, outdoors) with his stick, then all the others must turn round about—but if the leader turns round without first having rapped on the floor with his stick then none of the others must turn at all—and if one player forgets—then that player is caught by the leader and he must take the leader's place and the game starts again.


The children form a circle and join hands.

One child stands in the center—a boy. All sing to child in center:

Sissy in the barn, join the wedding!

Sissy in the barn, join the wedding!

(Child in center chooses a partner who joins him). All sing:

Sweetest li'l couple I ever did see.

Barn! Barn!

Arms all around me! Barn!

Children in center put arms around each other. All sing:

Say, little Sissy, won't you marry me?

Two in center stand opposite each other and point fingers at each other saying:

Stay back, girl (or boy), don't you come near me.

All them sassy words you say!

O, Barn! Barn!

(All sing) Arms all around me!

Say, little sissy, won't you marry me? Marry me?

Two in center courtesy to each other—the child who was chosen partner remains and the game starts again.


Little People of the Month

THERE are some folks who take a real interest in their studies—they're obedient, attentive and earnest scholars. Such a person is Ammie Rosealia Lewis. Out in Imperial County, Cal., at the Calexico High School, Ammie ranked highest in educational attainments among 105 students. We Brownies, of course, are very proud of our Ammie; but do you know,—there were two girls and three boys—Mary Culver and Gladys Forrest, Edwin Kessling, Laurence Little and Otis de Riemer—who could not bear to realize that a Negro should be an honor student and refused to sit on the same platform with Ammie at graduation time. Professor Vinacke characterized these white children's attitude as "a lack of understanding of Americanization."

IT'S so wonderful to be an artist, and make pictures of beautiful flowers and trees and oceans and skies, and of the gray cat watching to catch the pretty pigeon for a meal, and of lovely Wilhelmina and dear Billikins. Well, at Boston, Mass., there's a Brownie, 14 years of age, who has won her second scholarship at the Museum of Fine Arts. Her name is Lois M. Jones and she's an honor student of the High School of Practical Arts at Boston.

MAMIE E. DAVIS is the winner of a prize in the War Department's contest on "What are the Benefits of an Enlistment in the United States Army." She is a pupil in the 7th grade of the Slater School at Birmingham, Ala., and the only pupil in the colored public schools of Birmingham and Jefferson Counties to win a prize. Her teacher is Miss Elizabeth C. Towns. On the Board of Judges were Secretary of War Baker, General March and General Pershing. Miss Davis' principal says of her: "During the last six years, in which she has been a pupil at the Slater School, she has shown herself to be a hard worker and one of the most obedient pupils. During the time of the World War, as one of the junior speakers of Slater, she delivered many four-minute speeches in the school and in churches."

DANCING is fun for us, but Lillian Jones has made her dancing bring greater pleasure, for at the annual circus of the West Philadelphia High School, from which Lillian graduated in June, she interpreted Nevin's "Narcissus" and was awarded a prize. This marked her second annual award.

[illustration - Ammie Rosealia Lewis] [illustration - Lois M Jones] [illustration - Mamie E Davis] [illustration - Lillian Jones]



To Our Mother

AS dawn peers through the western sky,
To you our radiant visions hie;
Then silent stars steal to their home,
And to you all our dear dreams roam.

The Strawberry

THE strawberry's my fav'rite fruit;
And why's not hard to say :
No other fruit is half so good
Or tastes in that same way.
It is rose-red and has gold eyes,
And grows low on the ground
On bushes green, whither I steal
When mother's not around.

Little Moon Dancer

A LITTLE fairy dressed in white
Came stealing to my door last night.
She glided softly through the gloom
To where the moonlight filled the room.
And oh, the shimmer of her hair
And lovely smile beyond compare!
I held my breath in sheer delight
Lest she should vanish from my sight.
At first she danced a measure slow,
With gauzy wings extended—so.
Then next her feet tripped fast and faster
And where I lay, I hugged my laughter;
Oh, what if she should disappear
Before I've asked her name, or sphere!
Alas; she guessed my thought too soon,
And floated upward to the moon!

The Grasshopper

O HAPPY little grasshopper
In shirt of lettuce-green,
With wings as thin as isinglass
And sprightly legs and lean!
O little leaping grasshopper,
I watched you spring and pass,
And found that though your name sounds so,
You don't just jump on grass.
You sped right by Parnassus grass
To land on daddy's knee;
Then made my tie a boulevard,
As we sat by the tree.
I saw you pass some fox grass once
And light—snap!—on a rose:
So, after all, one's not known by
The name one's parents chose.



LITTLE maids, what joy is yours!
Children of the great out-doors!
Nature's forces, every one
Join in hand to give you fun.
She her carpet green has spread
For your play and for your bed.
You may play up in the trees,
Or chase the butterflies and bees.
You may heed the water's call,
Being yet so young and small.
When I was a child like you
I could wade in water too.
Childhood days pass quickly by.
Live them fully as they fly.
When you enter grown-ups' ways
Oft you'll long for bare-foot days.

The Baby Boy

With little dimpled hands and feet,
He sits in summer garments neat,
Of lace, all lily white;
And when through lattice-work of green
The sun's invading rays are seen,
His eyes are trebly bright:
Or if while sitting there at play
Some golden beams that drift astray,
Upon his feet alight,
He gazes at them steadily,
Then claps his hands in highest glee
Enraptured at the sight.

[illustration - Lafayette]