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

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THE BROWNIES' BOOK

For May 1921

15 ca

COPY

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A CHAMPIONSHIP CONTEST

THE BROWNIES' BOOK should have a hundred thousand subscribers and should be read by a million children who especially need its inspiring pictures, stories and news of colored youth.

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THE BROWNIES' BOOK

Published Monthly and Copyrighted by DuBois and Dill, Publishers, at 2 West 13th Street, New York, N. Y. Conducted by W. E. Burghardt DuBois; Jessie Redmon Fauset, Managing Editor ; Augustus Granville Dill, Business Manager

VOL 2. No. 5. MAY, 1921 WHOLE No. 17

PAGE
COVER. Drawing. "THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY." Laura Wheeler.
FRONTSPIECE—CHILDREN SPINNING COTTON IN FUMBAN, AFRICA.	130
MAGIC. A Story. Edna M. Harrold. Illustrated by Hilda Rue Wilkinson	131
GOD'S MASTERPIECE. A Poem. Ethel Caution	133
THE JUDGE	134
PLAYTIME. Three Games Arranged by Mary White Ovington. Answers to Last Month's Puzzles by C. Leslie Frazier	135
YADA. A True African Story. Frederica Bado Brown	137
AWAITING THE ARRIVAL OF QUEEN ZEODITU. A Picture	139
GIRLS TOGETHER. Sketches From Life. Part Two. Lillie Buffum Chace Wyman	140
CHILD'S THOUGHT. A Poem. Laura D. Nichols	141
TABOO. W. E. B. DuBois. Decorated by Marcellus Hawkins	142
THE MOON-BIRD. A Legend of Central Africa. Coralie Howard Ha- man. Decorated by Hilda Rue Wilkinson	144
LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE MONTH. Illustrated	146
CORDELIA GOES ON THE WAR PATH. A Story. Jessie Fauset. Illustrated by Hilda Rue Wilkinson
THE GROWN-UPS' CORNER	154
OUR LITTLE FRIENDS. Four Pictures	155
THE JURY	156
CADET CORPS OFFICERS. A Picture	157
AS THE CROW FLIES	158
POEMS. Carrie W. Clifford

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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 3, 1879.

brownies.192105.004.jpg [illustration - Children Spinning Cotton in Fumban, Kamerun, Africa —International Film service ]

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BLACK CAT MAGIC

EDNA M. HARROLD

"I'M sick and tired of hearing about it, that's what," said Carl Gray wearily. "Every time I pick up a newspaper or magazine there's a whole lot in it about psychical research. Talk about something else."

"Well you're foolish and behind the times, that's all I've got to say," retorted Ray Fulton, hotly. The leading men of the world are taken up with it, and it's a good thing to know about." "Why is it a good thing to know about?" sneered Carl.

"Well because it is, that's why. And if you don't buy a ticket from me you're a cheap skate and not my buddy. Work all the week after school at the drug store and then won't even buy a twenty-five cent ticket!"

Carl assumed an air of indifference he was far from feeling.

"I don't care how much I work, or what kind of a skate I am ; I'm not going to buy any ticket to any lecture. See?"

And without further parley he walked off, complacently jingling his week's wages in his pocket. Four of these silver dollars were to swell the fund he was saving to pay his expenses at the State University two years hence. The remaining dollar was his spending money for the week. And when one has only a dollar to spend, it behooves one to be as saving as possible, especially when one has a healthy appetite for caramel sodas.

If it had been a lecture on foreign travel now, Carl would not have minded buying a ticket. Of course Ray was his chum, his sworn and chosen buddy and he'd help him in any way he could. But it wasn't Carl's fault that Ray had been such a boob as to let some old professor foist a lot of tickets off on him with the promise of a dollar if he sold them all. Let Ray earn his spending money by the honest sweat of his brow as became any sober-minded high school sophomore.

The next morning on his way to school he met Ray again and girded himself for a renewal of hostilities.

"Well, Arbaces", he said insolently (his class was reading the 'Last Days of Pompeii'), "how many tickets have you sold now?" As he spoke he tossed his silver dollar high in the air.

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"That's all right about my tickets," returned Ray with a forced laugh. He saw that Carl had money and was to be treated civilly, at least until he had treated him to one or two sodas. "You know, Carl, I'm just seeing how many tickets I can sell for the money that's in it. I don't believe in that rot any more than you do."

Here both boys turned as one and walked backward nine steps. A black cat had crossed their path. They turned around again, spat, and then looked at each other sheepishly.

"There's nothing in it that it's bad luck to have a black cat cross your path," said Carl the materialist, "I just walked backward because you did."

"Yes you did not," jeered Ray. "But I'll tell you what's a true fact: If you boil a black cat alive and then chew a certain bone that comes out of its head you'll be able to do anything in this world that you want to, no matter what it is."

Carl shouted aloud in derision, "It's a wonder you wouldn't chew ten black cat bones then so you could get your geometry lessons," he shouted. (Carl was the fifteen year old head of his mathematics class.)

"Laugh if you want to but it's true," said Ray sullenly. He really didn't half believe it himself, but he wasn't going to admit that Carl Gray knew everything.

"Rats," said Carl. "If that was the truth there wouldn't be a black cat left in this town. Everybody would be boiling them alive and eating their bones."

"It's not their bones, smarty. It's just one bone. And everybody don't know that certain bone, that's why everybody can't do the trick."

"Well, do you know what certain bone it is?"

"Sure I do."

"What bone is it, then?"

"It's a bone in the cat's head I told you."

"Yes I know you told me it was a bone in the cat's head. But a cat's got more than one bone in its head, and you said it was a certain one. Now which one is it?"

"You make one sick, Carl Gray. How can I tell you in words which bone it is? If I had a black cat I'd show you the bone, quick enough."

"Well, after school we'll get a black cat."

"Where'll we get one? Besides, it has to be boiled alive. You get me a black cat and boil it alive, and I'll show you the bone all right."

"If you want any black cat boiled alive you'll boil it yourself. It's bad luck to kill a cat."

"Well, I can't show you if I don't have a cat, that's all there is to it."

Conversation languished until the boys reached school. Carl was plunged into thought. He told himself that he didn't believe Ray's silly trick for a moment; he was just betting that the bone couldn't be found that was all.

That evening when he had finished his work at the drug store he sought Ray's house. "I say, Ray," he began, "if we could find a black cat that was dead already couldn't you boil it and show me that bone?"

"Well, I guess maybe I could. Of course it wouldn't do you any good to chew the bone of a dead cat but I could show it to you."

"All right. Tomorrow's Saturday and I'll be off at three o'clock. You meet me at the drugstore and we'll find a cat."

But next day their search was unavailing, although they looked through alleys and creeks and even went to the edge of the river where the city dumping grounds were. They were just about to give it up when they met the city scavenger, driving his team of fat horses.

"Hey, Mr. Miller, let us look in your wagon, will you? Let us look and see if you've got a black cat there," called Carl, seized with a bright idea. Mr. Miller, always on the alert against just such boyish pranks as this scanned the pair with a fishy eye and rode off without replying.

"Well, I don't care," said Ray with an air of relief, "Let's go on home, I'm hungry."

So the boys moved off at a run, and taking a short cut towards home were quite unexpectedly rewarded, for, in an old unused pasture,

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among tin cans, old buckets and other debris they came upon a defunct feline, black as ebony and swollen to the proportions of a small dog.

With an exultant whoop the boys seized their prize and hurried on . "Now I'll have to go back to work. But I'll take this cat and hide it in my wood-shed a n d Monday noon when we come home to dinner we'll boil her then. Mother'll be away all day and we'll have the house to ourselves. Say, you carry it a while. It doesn't smell exactly like cologne, does it?"

It did not and both boys were glad when they had deposited their noisome burden in Carl's woodshed. By Monday noon Carl's interest in psychical research had diminished considerably. He had passed a very uncomfortable Sabbath trying to keep his parents from finding out just what caused that peculiarly offensive odor about the premises. But now Ray was on hand and so was the dead cat, so there was nothing to do but go on with the experiment.

Carl lighted the gasoline stove and filled the clothes boiler with water. "We'll boil it in that and while it's boiling we'll eat our dinner," he told Ray.

Ray nodded and put the cat into the boiler trying not to mind the horrible odor. Then the boys washed their hands and Carl started to place lunch on the table. But the aroma from the boiler became more and more pronounced and Carl began to have serious doubts as to the wisdom of the step they had taken. Visions of an irate mother passed through his mind and he wondered if he would ever be able to get that awful scent out of the clothes boiler.

He looked at Ray. Ray looked sick and said he didn't believe he wanted any lunch. Carl did not urge him ; his own appetite had vanished. For a few terrible minutes they sat still and then the boiler boiled over.

That was the end.

"For the love of the queen," shuddered Carl, "Help me throw that rotten thing out of here."

Choking, gasping and staggering the boys carried the boiler far down the alley and emptied it.

"Shall—shall I show you that bone now?" quavered Ray, forcing himself to gaze on the repulsive mass at their feet.

Carl turned savagely. "You shut up that foolishness, right now," he snapped. "I've made a big enough boob of myself hiding a dead cat, let alone messing through it looking for a bone. Don't you ever come to me with that tale again. D'you hear?"

And he marched off, leaving Ray standing in the alley, a dejected and misunderstood disciple of black cat magic.

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God's Masterpiece

ETHEL CAUTION

HIS mountains strike
                                us dumb with awe 
His oceans stir us to the quick. 
We never cease to marvel at 
The clouds piled high in masses thick. 

A crescent moon in evening's sky 
Calls forth our wonder ever new. 
While pulses beat and souls leap high 
At afterglow and morning dew. 

A songster calling to his mate, 
A miracle in all the trees, 
From swelling bud to falling leaf— 
Can aught be greater still than these? 

Sky, seas, and mountains, wonders are, 
And chartless winds or fierce or mild. 
But still I think God's masterpiece 
Is just a little child. 

brownies.192105.008.jpg THE JUDGE

BILLIKINS comes rushing into the house, breathless, his cap all awry, his tie flying, his books slipping from under his arm.

"Such fun!" he pants. "A lot of us fellers (Billikins is six!) stopped by Hong Loo down at the corner, and teased him and called him names. He got so mad that he started to throw something at us, and chased us half-way down the street. Oh it was great!

"I know," says Billy, cheerfully, "used to tease him myself when I was a kid."

"Well all I can say," observes Wilhelmina severely, "is that you both ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You let me catch you going near that laundryman again."

"Why what difference does it make?" Billy queries, open-eyed, "he's only a Chinaman, ain't he?"

"You musn't say 'ain't'," begins William, but the Judge interrupts:

"Why do you say 'only a Chinaman', Billy, aren't you 'only an American'?"

"Well, but that's different,—"

"How do you mean?"

"Well of course I'm an American, but this is America, my country. I've got a right to be here and I dress like everybody else and I look like everybody else—"

"Indeed you don't," says Wilhelmina. "You may dress like everybody else, but you certainly don't look like most Americans, even though you are one."

"Well I look like enough other Americans for them not to stare at me and think I'm different, and I don't wear a funny, loose jacket and wide pants and slippers—think of wearing slippers on the street!—and my hair in a long pigtail. Oh I just can't keep my hair where it belongs," and Billy makes an elaborate pretense of shaking a long braid over his shoulder.

They all laugh, except the Judge whose expression is growing sadder and sadder.

Then if you were to go to China, Billy, dressed in your nice American clothes, and with your skin brown instead of yellow, and your hair clipped short, you'd expect the little Chinese boys to run after you, and jeer at you. Perhaps they'd pull your coat and even—oh I've seen boys do this—throw dead animals at you. And the Grown-Ups would just stand by and laugh.""

"They'd better not," says Billy fiercely. "I'd show 'em. They wouldn't dare do it to me!"

"Not even if you were alone or with only a few others in their country, and you were 'different'?"

"But I'm an American. I'm better than they are. I'm the way they ought to be."

"Billy," says the Judge gravely and his kind face grows suddenly very weary, "do you know what you are saying is the kind of thing that sets the world by the ears, that makes war, that causes unspeakable cruelties?"

Billy says he doesn't understand. "I don't either," says William, "I wish you'd explain."

"Consider. Suppose you, William, and a man from India, and a man from Ireland, and one from Venezuela, one from France, and one from Liberia were all wrecked on a desert island. Suppose not one of you possessed a single thing, which one of you would be the best man?"

"No one," Wilhelmina answers for him promptly.

"Which one would own the island? The Hindu, the Frenchman, the—?"

"There wouldn't none of us be owning that island, if it was me on it," says Billy ungrammatically. "We'd all of us have to have it together if there was going to be any peace. Why each one would have as much right to it as the other."

"Even though William was an American?"

"Why, yes, why should he own it all ?"

"That's just it. Well think of the world as a huge desert island, and all the people as being just wrecked on it. Hasn't each one of us a right to everything on the island—joy, light, love, 'life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness'?"

"That's from the Declaration of Independence," says William. "You know it Billy you recited it at the school picnic."

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PLAYTIME

THREE GAMES

Arranged by

MARY WHITE OVINGTON

GEOGRAPHY GAME

FORM in two groups, each one choosing a captain. Captains are very important. Indeed the game can be played by two people, though it is more fun with a number. The object of the game is to see how long each side can think of names of places beginning with a given letter in the alphabet. The time allotted for thinking is represented by the time it takes a captain to count to twenty at a steady, slow rate, a little faster than a watch- tick.

We begin the game with the letter "A". The first captain starts by saying, for instance, "Asia", and then begins to count "1,2,3, 4, 5—" Before he reaches 20, the other captain must have thought of a place—let us say "America", —and calls out "America" beginning at once to count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,—"Africa," the other side calls out, beginning to count, and so it goes. The first captain, who can without quickening or slowing his counting, get up to 20 without the other side having given a name, wins that letter. The game proceeds with the letter "B", and so on until the whole alphabet is played through.

Note: This game can only be played by two level-headed, honest captains with good memories. When it is well played, it goes on for a long time. It is best for the captains to see what they can think of first; and if by the time the other side has counted up to about 12, the captain has no word to say, one of the people on his side gives him the name of a place. Each side, unless you have an umpire, has to remember whether a name has been repeated or not, and must abide by the decision rendered. It is well to start the game with only two people and see how it goes.

I played it once in Europe with six nationalities,—Italian, German, French, Irish, English and American. We had so many names that we all grew wildly excited. The Irish seemed the most remarkable to me; but to the Europeans some of our North American Indian names were most curious.

If anyone challenges a name, you are expected to give some idea where it is; but you must not be too strict regarding the position on the map.

ADVERB GAME

This can be played with a roomful of people.

Send one person out of the room. Then choose an adverb, getting a word that will lend itself to acting. Suppose you choose "Mournfully". Let everyone understand clearly what the word is. Then call in the person who went outside, who proceeds to ask a question of one of the company. "What did you have for breakfast?" he may ask. The question may be answered by a burst of tears, or by a sobbing, "Nothing, they starve me," or whatever the person acting thinks of to represent "mournfully." The questioner then has to guess. Perhaps he says, "Is it sadly?" On hearing that that is not the right word, he goes on asking questions until someone answers in a way that leads him to guess "Mournfully". Then the person on whom the word is guessed goes out and the game proceeds as before.

Note: The choice of a good adverb is the most important part of this game.

DUMB CRAMBO

This game Is played in two groups, which we will call A and B. B goes out of the room and A decides upon a rhyme-word which must be acted by B. Let us suppose that A chooses the rhyme-word "spray". The group B is then called in, and A's Captain announces that they have thought of a word that rhymes with "May". I choose "May" at random; "way," or

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"hay" or any other word that rhymes with "spray" would do. Group B again goes out of the room and goes over the words that rhyme with "May". "Bay" is suggested. The B group then plans how to act "bay" without speaking,—remember, this is Dumb Crambo,— and the group goes into the room, and before A as audience, acts "bay".

Perhaps they pretend to be in a sail boat, and someone makes imaginary waves. It is up to the A group to guess what they are acting. When anyone guesses, he or she calls out, "It is not bay", and then the actors go away and shortly come back, and have a game of tag for instance. The first in the A group to guess what they are doing will call out: "It is not play", and the B group will have to try again until the chosen word "spray" occurs to one of them, is acted and the A group calling out. "It is spray", goes out to act in its turn.

Note: If the game drags, it is well for group B to plan to do two or three words one after another, 'when they come into the room. It is also important that group A guess carefully what group B is acting, otherwise they will call out good words, saying, for instance, when group B is acting "play", "It is not gay", and group B will then not have to act that game.

ANSWERS TO LAST MONTH'S PUZZLES

C. LESLIE FRAZIER

Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores, Would I might study to be prince of bores, Right wisely would I rule that dull estate- But, sir, I may not, till you abdicate.

PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR.

WORD SQUARE ARRANGEMENT

F A T H E R
A D H E R E
T H I E V E
H E E D E D
E R V E N E
R E E D E D

BEHEADINGS

1. Bread. 2. A-mount. 3. Never. 4. Neither. 5. Elate. 6. K-night. 7. Emission. 8. R-ace. BANNEKER.

LETTER-WORDS

1. NV (envy). 2. EZ (easy). 3. AT (eighty). 4. DK (decay). 5. JA (jay). 6. NE (any). 7. JL (jail). 8. PL (peal). 9. IV (ivy). 10. LM (elm). 11. FL (Eiffel). 12. SA (essay).

NEGRO HISTORY

1. Attucks was the first martyr in the Revotionary War.
2. Dunbar is our beloved poet.
3. Booker T. Washington died November 14, 1915.
4. January 1st is Emancipation Day.
5. Benjamin Banneker helped survey W., ington, D. C.
6. Douglass is buried in Mount Hope Cemetery, Rochester, N. Y.
7. Banneker made the first clock in America.
8. Topsy is a character in "Uncle Tom's Cabin".
9. Negroes fought in the Confederate army.
10. The Civil War lasted four years.
11. On June 21, 1916, Troops C and K of the Tenth Cavalry were ambushed at Carrizal, Mexico, by some 700 Mexican soldiers Although outnumbered almost 10 to 1, these brave soldiers dismounted in the face of a severe machine gun fire, deployed, charged the Mexicans and killed their commander.
12. Bert Williams is one of America's greatest comedians.

TWISTED QUOTATIONS

Too many cooks spoil the broth.
When poverty comes in at the door, love flies out of the window.
To play the dog in a stack of hay.
Two heads are better than one.
Too much familiarity breeds contempt.
To send one away out of joint.
When thieves fall out honest men get their own.
Two of a trade seldom agree.

CONUNDRUM

car pets.

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YADA

A True African Story

FREDERICA BADO BROWN

                     Kamala hi, Kamala hi, 
                  
                     Yru bah yah, yru, 
                  
                     Kamala wa na gbo ti, 
                  
                     Te ya ya ya! 
                  
                     Te—ya—ya—ya! ! !

AS the last sound died away over the sleepy African village, little Yada rose from her position in the doorway of the hut and went out into the night. She was to meet her small playmates at the banana grove near the village when the toot of the horn of the High Priest told them that he had offered up the sacrifices for the night. Little girls and boys were not allowed out of doors during the ceremony.

This was to be her last evening with her friends, for tomorrow the big brown man that lived in the queer circular hut across the road from her house, was to claim her for his wife.

Yada had thought about this thing, in fact she had thought of it lots more than little African girls are supposed to think about anything at all. Somehow it did seem to her that since she had to marry that her parents would have picked out some one more suited to her. She inwardly rebelled, but finally she decided that she need not think any longer, to-night she was going to have her fun, she was going to enjoy this last opportunity for all too soon her childhood was to be taken away from her.

Yet on the way to the grove many things again came into her mind. Did not this man have six wives already? What could possibly be her position in his home? She would certainly have to be the burden-bearer of the household.

What was it that the missionary lady had told them that day she came to the town to read about the funny Jesus-man that loved everyone? That made her think,—could she—? But of course that was too silly for her to think of doing. She had never heard of a little African girl rebelling and running away from her fate. But it was nice to think of it even though she knew she could not do it. She could never find her way to the missionary lady, but if she did would they try to get her back and beat her as they had done that time when she refused to bow to the great idol in the temple?

Te—ya—ya—ya! ! !

No, she could not do it tonight for the children were having such a nice time and she wanted to join them in their play, but maybe in the morning she could if,—in the meantime she must go and play and act as if nothing was happening inside of her, for no one must suspect anything.

Wasn't that funny last night when she had made faces in the dark at the big brown man? He couldn't see very well, but he was sort of nice anyway. He would be lots nicer if he didn't try to be nice. Last night he had brought her some bracelets for her legs, they were very beautiful, they jangled when she walked and all the other girls would be envious of her. She wished that she could take them with her tomorrow, but maybe since she was leaving him she had better not take either that, or the heads and the engagement straw that he had put in her hair, when her parents consented for her to marry him.

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The hoot of the owl told her that she would have to hurry as it was getting late. Already her mother was standing in the doorway calling to her.

"Yada, what a strange child you are! Why don't you hurry and meet the children? They are all playing without you," said her mother.

"Yes, mother, I am going now," said Yada.

The next morning as soon as her mother left the hut for the farm and Yada knew that her father had gone to the men's Palaver or Council she stole away in the direction of the big woods.

Fear clutched at her heart, but she remembered that the missionary lady had said that the great God would take care of all the little ones and she was one of those surely. Anyway she would have a whole day's walk ahead of any one who might follow to take her back to the village.

She thought of the stories that her mother had told of the spirits that lived in the trees, the grass, and the flowers and so she began to talk aloud to them so that they might help her in her journey. She tried to walk around the grass and to keep from plucking the flowers so as not to offend the spirits. She knew all about them. Everything had a spirit and she had only to be real good and they would not harm her. Probably they would forgive her the disgrace that she was bringing on her family, for the whole village would point to them in scorn as people who had failed to keep their promise. Oh well she couldn't help that now she was too far away to turn back, it was too late now to do that; she was going on to the end.

Pretty soon the sun was so hot that it made Yada thirsty and she stopped to look for some water. She found a nice clear spring and she stooped and drank, then she got out her little lunch of cassava and fish and ate. A deer or two came out of the woods to drink, but they became frightened on seeing her and ran away. She was not afraid though for she had seen many wild animals when she went on hunting trips with her father and the men. She nestled down in the hollow place of the tree and thought of home, oh dear she was afraid that she was going to sleep, she hoped that she wasn't, as that would just spoil everything, but how was a little girl going to keep awake—maybe her mother was worrying.

When Yada awoke she found herself on her own little mat in her own little hut and all her own dear folks standing over her. There were mother and father, and the old medicine man of the village who drove away the evil spirits that caused sickness. Maybe she was sick and he was going to stick the red hot needle into her to drive away the pain. It must be nearly time to begin putting on the clay for the marriage ceremony.

But what was that her father was saying to the medicine man? She could just make out. The Big Brown Man-had-been-found-dead-and-he-guess-that-Yada-was-free. Why the spirits had helped her, hadn't they? She was so happy now over the idea of her rescue, she believed that she would go out in the banana grove and play with the children. They were playing the same little game that they had played last night when she joined them, for she could hear one little girl's voice as it led the others in shouting:

                     Kamala hi, Kamala hi, 
                  
                     Yru bah yah, yru, 
                  
                     Kamala wa na gbo ti, 
                  
                     Te ya ya ya! 
                  
                     Te ya ya ya! ! !

brownies.192105.013.jpg —International Film Service. Awaiting the Arrival of Queen Zeoditu of Abyssinia

brownies.192105.014.jpg

GIRLS TOGETHER

LILLIE BUFFUM CHACE WYMAN

Part II

IN 1833 Rebecca Buffum was living in Uxbridge, Mass. She was then twenty-three years old, and she was teaching in that lovely rural village beside the Blackstone River. A very good and beautiful young man named Marcus Spring came visitihg relatives there, and Rebecca afterwards married him.

Meanwhile, Rebecca wrote a letter to Mrs. Chace, which I once found. It tells of her acquaintance with a colored girl, to whom she gives no name but that of Susan. I cannot make out from this letter the whole of Susan's previous history, but the main facts are evident. She had a delicate nature, but she had been so accustomed to be under orders that it was hard for her to take the initiative in anything, and she scarcely understood what freedom meant.

It is not likely that she was legally free, but she had been brought North by persons who had hired her of her owners, and she had left those persons. The lawyers had not quite decided then, whether slaves brought by their owners into free States were made free just by that action. But, if slaves, in such cases, simply walked away, it was not easy for their owners to get them back. Susan was apparently in this situation as to the law, when that remarkably ardent young woman, Rebecca Buffum, saw, loved her and undertook to find her a safe home. Susan had been offered a place by Mrs. Hills in Worcester. She had been in that town, knew people there, and felt a homesick preference to go there. Rebecca, however, thought she would be safer in Harvey Chace's home in Fall River.

Here are portions of Rebecca's letter: "The poor child's mind has been like a tempest-tossed vessel. She had been 'reared', she said, in the house, and could not work hard. It appears she was a great favorite with her mistress, who treated her kindly and kept her for her waiting maid. Susan says she would never leave her. She traveled with her—has been several times to Philadelphia—was acquainted with the families Father visited. She was repeatedly offered freedom while there but would not leave her mistress ; but when her mistress died, Susan became the property of her nephew, who let her out to others. The family, with whom she came to Worcester, hired her from her master, as they would a horse, and treated her very unkindly. This made her wish to be free, but she did not know if it would be best to accept freedom, for she could not be sure of a comfortable living. She says she asked God to direct her, although she hardly knew how to pray, and it seemed to her the Almighty intended she should be free.

"She is a good girl ; whatever she does she does well. She seemed to think, or feel rather,—for she knew it was not so—that if she went 'U.. Harvey's, she would be bound there for life. I told her this morning, I should not urge her in the least; I knew it would be a good home for her, but she must now act for herself. She appeared considerably affected and said she wished she knew what was best. She repeated to herself 'If I do not like to stay I can go away', as if she would learn it.

"She supposes her age to be about twenty- eight. The principal reason, she prefers Worcester, is that the colored people told her she should learn to read. This is her heart's desire. She said this morning, 'Do you think, Miss Rebecca, I could learn to read in Fall River?' I told her I did not doubt it. 'Then I will go', said she. She is an interesting girl, and I want thee to be interested in her."

In a postscript Rebecca adds : "Susan has concluded not to go to Fall River. I found the only reason she was willing to go, was because she thought I wished it. As I had been her teacher and she had been here, she felt under obligation to me ; but she shall not go anywhere to please me. I love her, and will do anything I can for her, but she is free."

In this letter, Rebecca also says: "We had a delightful visit from dear Father. He came seventh day, and addressed a large and attentive audience, first day, on Slavery. The ministers both came to see him. He was happy and so was I; yes, just as happy as I could he.

"My school closes to-day. I shall write to Father that I am ready to go to Philadelphia- 'Tis my wish now to take a colored infant school. I believe I can do more good in that way than in any other."

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I do not know what became of Susan after this letter was written, but I feel that the sweet gentleness, which won Rebecca's love, must have secured happiness for her somehow and somewhere.

I can tell a little about Rebecca's later life. Her marriage was happy. Her husband became a rich man. He was an Abolitionist. They did a great deal of kind, good work in the world. They had illustrious friends both in America and in Europe, and Rebecca became a gay, brilliant woman in literary and artistic society, but the ardent and heroic strain persisted in her blood. Once, when in great danger of shipwreck, she faced death with what was almost enthusiasm and helped her companions to feel as she did.

In October, 1859, as nobody in America must ever forget, John Brown made an effort to induce the slaves of Virginia to leave their masters in such numbers, that the institution of slavery, in that State, would crumble away of itself. He, with a small body of men, took armed possession of the Arsenal, at Harper's Ferry, and held it for two days. It is probable that he supposed, that when his capture of the Arsenal was known, the Negroes in the neighborhood would come to his assistance. But, if they attempted to do so, they were held back by the white people ; there was firing in the town outside the Arsenal, and historians have thought that unknown Negroes were shot down in the general disturbance. John Brown was finally taken prisoner, by Colonel Robert E. Lee, who, you will remember, later committed treason. Several of Brown's men were killed in the fight. A few escaped, and six were captured with him. All seven were tried, and they were executed at different dates, John Brown being put to death on December second. Robert E. Lee managed the military parade at the execution, and John Wilkes Booth, who afterwards assassinated Abraham Lincoln, was a volunteer among the soldiers.

But, before this, Rebecca Buffum Spring read something in the paper, one morning, that made her think that she could relieve the hardships of John Brown's prison life if she went directly from her home, in New Jersey, to the jail in Charleston, Virginia. She started that very day, although her husband was away from home. She took her nineteen year old boy with her. There really was danger that mob violence might be turned against the mother and son, but they went on dauntlessly, and Mrs. Spring obtained entrance to the jail. She saw John Brown twice and spoke with several of his fellow-captives.

She found that she could do nothing on the spot for these doomed men, except to speak words of comfort, so she went home to help care for John Brown's wife. Just before his death John Brown wrote to Mrs. Spring, saying : "May the God of my fathers bless and reward you a thousand fold."

Mr. and Mrs. Spring gave largely for the education of John Brown's daughters. They also had the bodies of two of his men brought North and buried on their own grounds. Southerners withdrew their trade from Mr. Spring's firm. His partners complained to him that this loss of business was because of what his wife had done. To this complaint, she made only answer : "I don't care a copper."

The southern anger, however, as it turned out, brought a blessing. A year later the Southern States seceded, and their merchants repudiated their debts to northern firms, who, consequently suffered heavy losses instead of getting pay for goods they had already delivered to their rebel customers. Mr. Spring and his partners lost nothing, because they had sent no goods for many months to these men, who, having refused to buy, could not injure them by refusing payment.

I wonder if Susan knew anything of her friend Rebecca's later work for the slaves, only a part of which has been told here.

"A Child's Thought"

LAURA D. NICHOLS

BLUE-EYED violet peering at me 
Through the grass, 
Are you a little child like me, 
Lad or lass? 

I ask my mother again and again— 
She does not know. 
But the dear God sends us sun and rain, 
And we both grow. 

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TABOO

W. E. B. DU BOIS

[On pages 144-45 we have a poem illustrating "taboo" in Central Africa. At certain seasons of the year people are forbidden to eat fowls. This is so the birds may have a chance to mate and breed. According to the law of the taboo, en those towns where fowl's flesh is eaten out of season, the women shall be childless.]

SOMETIMES you hear folks say "That is Taboo", and you may have wondered just what they meant by that expression. Ordinarily they mean that that is something which you must not do; but the reason for not doing it is not simply that the deed is wrong, otherwise they would say "that is wrong." They mean that this is something which you must not do because of a strong custom or feeling. For instance, it is "taboo" to eat with your knife, although knives are perfectly proper things, and for a real hungry person will often convey a larger amount of food than a fork. Still to see a person eating with a knife shows that he does not know the customs and desires of well-bred people in most civilized lands. You see then that the idea of taboo is something that is forbidden, not because of its essential wrongness, but for other and often inexplicable reasons.

The word (which is also spelled 'tabu' and 'tapu') comes from the South Sea Islands, those lovely places of sunshine and palms. It is a word which expresses some of the primitive religious; usages of people who are still in the childhood of civilization. In its fully developed form taboo denoted something that was consecrated or sacred, forbidden to be touched, or set aside for a particular use or person. The word was applied sometimes to persons and sometimes to things; and sometimes to the object prohibited or to the persons who were ordered not to do certain things. For instance: among these primitive people a burial ground is taboo and also the act of consecrating it is called taboo, and the people who are refused the right to enter it are said to be tabooed. Among these people it is taboo for any inferior person to touch the body of a chief, whether he is dead or alive; or to touch anything that belongs to him, or to eat in his presence, or to eat anything that he has touched, or to cross his threshold except on hands and knees; and sometimes it is taboo even to mention the chief's name. Particularly articles of food are tabooed as in the case of pork among the Jews; or sometimes food is tabooed for certain seasons as in the case of oysters among us in months without "r". Sometimes the taboo is very strict as in the case of Melanesia : if the shadow of a passer-by falls on a burial ground, he is supposed to lose his soul! In some cases a general taboo may be imposed by proclamation, or a chief might taboo certain objects for his own use by naming them after a part of his body.

Usually intricate and solemn ceremonies accompany the infliction of taboo or the removal thereof. Objects tabooed were marked in various ways: by a piece of white cloth, a bunch of leaves, a bundle of branches painted red and white. In Samoa the image of a shark denoted the taboo, while in New Zealand to chop a tree with an ax made it taboo. Then there were royal taboos which hedged the primitive king: some African kings may not look at the sea; others are not allowed to lie down to sleep. In some islands the chief will die who eats at the same time as the common people, or people are forbidden to see the king eat.

Now all these things may seem curious and even silly to us and we may look down upon them as the foolishness of folk who do not know as much as we do. But we must remember

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that they all have meanings and go back into the early history of mankind. Here, for instance, are parents who want to keep their children from eating certain poison food. They not only tell them not to, but they warn them with ceremony, they put taboo upon the bright and pretty berries and by bringing the whole religious force of the tribe to bear they save many innocent lives. In the same way by making the body of the king sacred they save the most valuable man of the tribe from careless injury and attack. So too they may preserve supplies during scarce seasons. By protecting the buried bodies they may save the tribe from pestilence or impress upon the young the hope of future life. All these things which are reasonable, must, in primitive times, before most men had learned to reason, have been enforced by ceremony and signs that appealed to the emotions and the feelings. In modern days with educated folk we accomplish the same thing that taboo used to accomplish, by reason; by meetings and newspapers, by lectures, by conversation. In the South Sea Islands, tobacco for persons who are not grown would be taboo. In New York we simply say to the young, "It is dangerous for growing youth to smoke." We do not put a taboo on bad air, but we write books and deliver lectures on the necessity of fresh air night and day.

Now all this works and is effective in modern life only in so far as we listen to reason. Unfortunately there are large numbers of human beings today who either cannot or will not reason. The result is that we suffer great injuries and often we find among us people who would again substitute taboo for reason, on the ground that folks will not reason. They would say, for instance, dancing is taboo, or private property is taboo, or theatres are taboo. They simply mean by this that dancing in bad air with bad companions, stealing and injustice, and salacious representations are injurious. But it is doubtful if we can secure the correction of these things by stopping human reason and going back to ancient taboo, because after all one may dance in good air, and private property is sometimes itself stolen by its reputed owners; and who would not see a play of Shakespeare?

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The Moon-Bird

A Legend of Central Africa

CORALIE HOWARD HAMAN

THE Great Moon-Bird is flying; floating down, 
Now here, now there. 
She wills it that no harm befall the Fowls 
Within her care. 

Her shining silver wings are spreading wide— 
—Oh, Usshe-U!— 
She comes to see if tempted mortals keep 
The great Tabu. 

Beneath the mystic silver of the moon 
She's coming here. 
To wooded valley, sacred lake and rock 
She's drawing near. 

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If men have left the holy Tabu law— 
—The Fowls complain— 
The women all, are childless in the town, 
Till comes again 

The mighty Bird who flies from sky to earth, 
On swiftest wings. 
To Her are sacred,—glowing stars above 
And earthly things. 

The hen is sacrificed upon the bier, 
And through the sky 
Star-eggs are strewn. Who eats an egg or fowl 
Shall surely die. 

If it is well with all the Feathered Folk, 
From lily, rose, 
high up She floats, and leaves a blessing there 
As on She goes. 

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Little People of the Month

HERE is a group of little girls who have decided to develop their talent in acting. They are members of the Y. W. C. A. Dramatic Club of Washington directed by Miss Olive C. Jones. Already most of these girls have displayed wonderful ability and received much praise for natural acting from those who witnessed their performance of The Lantern and the Fan.

This little Japanese play was given at the Y. W. C. A. Bazaar for the benefit of the Association, and the girls contributed largely to the success of the festival week. All of them are striving earnestly to live up to the Girl Reserve Code but especially to the last "E" which stands for "Ever Dependable",—the line which the club has selected as its individual slogan.

The first group of girls were dancers in the play. Little Elaine Williams, the smallest girl in the Dramatic Group, is but twelve years old, but she is in the Eighth Grade and is keeping up with her classes. One of the most remarkable things about her is her cheerfulness, and her entrance into the Y. W. C. A. never fails to bring to the faces not only of her mates but of the grown-ups as well, a reflection of the sunshine she radiates.

Harriet Ferguson is a little girl who is learning to be brave. She says it will take a great deal of practice, so she is starting by facing audiences as often as she has the opportunity. She is in the Eighth Grade now and when she grows up she wants to be a doctor. That is why she is so anxious to cultivate a stout heart.

Sylvia Wormley has made up her mind to work for the degree of E. D., which is to be conferred by the Dramatic Club on all who prove themselves Ever Dependable for one year. Sylvia had the part of one of the dancing girls in the play, and she was willing to miss going to see Mr. Bert Williams in order to appear in her part and prove to her leaders that she is dependable. That is the true spirit which will make the club succeed.

Dorothy Davis, the Fairy Good Thought of the play, acted her part with much grace and daintiness ; especially was this shown in her woodland dance. Dorothy is doing highly creditable work in school too, as are also Annabelle Thornton and Lillian Smith, and all three are aspiring to enter the Dunbar High School next year.

Annette Hawkins, who took the part of Nan Kin has shown herself to be capable in the personification of almost any character. She is always willing to do anything she can, and whenever any task is mentioned that no one else wants to do, some one usually says, "Ask Annette, she will do it." She was sent to a church with one of the largest congregations in the city to announce a Girl Reserve mass meeting, and she showed wonderful poise and self-possession in delivering her speech. She has stood at the head of her classes throughout her school life and will enter Dunbar High School in September, hoping later to study law. She is also gifted in music and is a promising pupil of Mr. Roy W. Tibbs. This talent as well as the many others which she possesses, she is ever ready to give to the service of the Girl Reserves.

Hortense Mimms is a little girl who came to us from far away Louisiana. She is an earnest student and has been successful in the schools of Washington. In spite of the strangeness of her new surroundings, she has displayed marked ability at fitting in, and was able to enter the High School with her class last year. Hortense is also a promising pianist and often assists the club with this talent. In the Lantern And The Fan she was a dancer, but has shown herself capable of taking much more important parts.

Elizabeth Morton is also in the first year at Dunbar High School. Her favorite subject is Latin, and she has made up her mind to continue her studies at Radcliffe for she wants to be a teacher of languages. She is devoted to the Girl Reserves, and last year proved herself a faithful and much honored president of the Dramatic Club.

brownies.192105.021.jpg [illustration - Elaine Williams Sylvia Wormley Harriet Ferguson Annette Hawkins Elizabeth Morton Hortense Mims Dorothy Davis Lillian Smith Annabelle Thornton Julia Delaney ]

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Julia Delaney, the president of the club, who took the part of Onote in the play, is quite talented for a girl of thirteen years. She is always willing to assist in anything the Club presents, for nothing pleases her more than to take part in Dramatics. When Julia was in the Eighth Grade she starred as Portia in the Merchant of Venice and she is continuing to prove her ability in the High School, for she is also at home on the stage there, and she puts all of James Whitcombe Riley's laughter and love for children into her poems. No one ever tires of "I Ain't Going' to Cry No More",—there is laughter from start to finish. These are just a few of the things in which she has taken part, and she says it is only the beginning, for she hopes to keep on until she has perfected herself in this line.

OLIVE C. JONES, Adviser, Girl Reserves, Washington, D. C.

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CORDELIA GOES ON THE WARPATH

Jessie Fauset

CORDELIA was on the warpath!

Of course all of us fussed from time to time, and made things pretty hot for the others, but I think we were all agreed that matters went worse when Cordelia got off than they did in the case of anybody else. To begin with the rest of us take sides; when Oliver gets cross he can always count on me to take up for him, and I know he'll look out for me. Stephen and Jarvis are always ready to fight for one another, and Bill enlists, sometimes with Oliver and me, sometimes with the twins.

But Cordelia! When she falls out with any of us, she always falls out with the whole crowd, —except of course Becky the baby, who is too little and sweet for anyone to quarrel with.

"Cordelia plays a lone hand," father often says.

She can't bear to be found in the wrong and she can't stand to be told about it if she is.

This was what started it all. Miss Alice Harrington came to call, and finding mother out, and Cordelia and Bill alone in the house, said she'd wait and visit with them awhile if they would promise to entertain her.

"Oh yes!" said Cordelia, who loves to play at being grown up. "Mother's gone off with the others to do some Easter shopping, she said, but I think it's really for my birthday, only she doesn't want me to know it."

Bill looked surprised at this, but was too polite to say anything. As a rule it's best not to interfere with Cordelia, as you never know what she has in her head. Besides, she has a most unpleasant habit of getting even with you.

"When my birthday comes," Cordelia went on pleasantly, "they always call it Easter ; that's so I won't know what they're talking about, and they can surprise me. Nice of them don't you think?"

Miss Harrington thought it was. "And I think they would be very much surprised if they knew how well you know about it and all their little plans. They can't fool you can they, my dear?"

Cordelia, Bill says, wagged her head wisely and said indeed they couldn't.

Miss Harrington guessed she'd better be going. "But I've had a most interesting time and I'd like very much to see you again."

Bill told us all about it when we came home, our arms full of Easter eggs and dyes, and all the things that mother gets for us at Easter. for we really do have a big time at this season of the year, almost as big as at Christmas. Cordelia's birthday comes in April, and last year it really did come on Easter day. So she thought it was due to come at that time every year, and that all the excitement and fun was for her. She was too little to remember her birthday of the year before last, and no one had ever explained to her that Easter is a "moveable feast", —Oliver and Bill and I had just learned that fact ourselves,—so of course she had taken it for granted that when people spoke of Easter, they were talking about her birthday, and you could see that it had made her feel no end important.

Even then I don't think we would have teased her much about it if she hadn't swanked so because she had entertained Miss Harrington. All of us are crazy about Miss Harrington because she is so pretty and clever and wears such beautiful clothes. I think she must be
brownies.192105.023.jpg pretty old, at least twenty-four, but both Oliver and Bill have made up their minds to marry her when they grow up, and Cordelia and I have often tried to get mother to make our dresses like hers, though always, I must say, without success. So since she is such a favorite you can imagine how it irritated us to have Cordelia swaggering around, telling how she and our idol had talked together that afternoon.

"You know she didn't pay a bit of attention to old Bill, just sat and talked to me as though I were grown up."

"Couldn't get a word in," Bill growled.

"And when she was getting ready to go she gave me the sweetest smile, and said 'How really interesting you are! I must come again just to see you.' "

This was too much. "You don't suppose she meant it do you?" asked Bill. "She was only making fun!"

The very thought of anyone making fun of her brings horror to Cordelia, so she answered Bill sharply : "What do you mean 'making fun'?"

"As if anybody else in the world didn't know, Silly, that your birthday doesn't come on Easter. It couldn't."

"Could too! Didn't mother write in my birthday book last year 'A happy birthday to mother's blessed Easter present'? Wait I can show it to you just as easy."

"But that just happened that way," said Oliver. "See here when does your birthday come anyway?"

"The 20th of April."

"Well now you know tomorrow's Easter, don't you? This is only the 18th of March. Easter's a moveable feast, Silly-Billy! Even the twins know that much, don't you Steve?"

"Course I do," said Steve who really knew nothing of the sort, and Jarvis added, "I bet everybody in the world most, knows that, 'cepting maybe only you and Becky."

"You should have seen her sitting there, talking away," went on Billy meanly, "thinking she was making such an impression on Miss Harrington, and there she was only making fun of her."

Cordelia asked Deborah about it, for she knows that while old Deb likes to tease as much as any of us, she would always tell her the truth.

"Ain't Easter my birthday, Debby?"

"Why no chile, last Easter wus your birthday. Can't expec' your birthday and Easter always to come on the same day ; that'd be askin' too much."

"Oh Deb please let them come together this year too,—they'll tease me so about it."

"Honey chile, I ain't got nuthin' to do with it, on'y wished I did. Sometimes Easter comes in March, sometimes it comes in April. Don't know why it acts that queer way.. Think its somethin' about the moon that does it."

WHEN Oliver gets angry he turns perfectly cold, so cold that you can just see that he's been turned to a kind of stone. Bill is the same way. As for me I get hot all over, as though I were burning up, and my knees tremble so that I have to sit down. The twins bluster and talk loud, and always want to fight. But Cordelia is different from any of us. She gets very quiet and composed, talks to you as little as possible, but always very sweetly, and plays by herself. Of course we wouldn't mind this so much for Cordelia is often very bossy, and it's sort of nice to have her out of the way, or it would be, except for one thing.—and that is she always manages to pay you back. That's why we don't like her to fall out with us.

"She's got it in for us this time," whispered Billy uneasily. "She must have an awful spell on. She won't even play with Jacky Daw, and you know how fond she's always been of him."

Jacky Daw is the blackbird that Cousin Bill brought from England and gave to Oliver, because he wasn't named after him, as far as we could see. For you would naturally have expected him to give it to Billy. Jacky was a great favorite with all of us, but his own choice was Cordelia, who up to now had always favored
brownies.192105.024.jpg him. But now she drove him away whenever he lighted near her, much to Jacky's puzzled surprise.

We always have a lot of fun during these periods of civil war. Of course father and mother know nothing about it,—it would spoil everything if they did. For they would probably be wanting us to make up, and perhaps would punish us if we didn't. As all six of us usually do things together, we have to keep right on, for fear our parents would notice us and interfere. At the table we all go on talking as though nothing had happened,—Oliver and Bill and I are especially careful to talk to Cordelia, for we know it makes her furious. Of course she has to answer.

"What would you like for a birthday present, Cordelia?" I asked her politely.

Oliver chimed in, "Rosemary Forest! How you talk ! You know perfectly well that last Sunday was Easter."

"Oh yes, that is so, I forgot her birthday always comes on Easter."

"Why Rosemary," said mother innocently, "I'm surprised a child of mine should be so stupid. Cordelia's birthday comes in April and this is only March. Easter doesn't come the same time every year. Don't ever say anything like that again. How Miss Harrington would laugh if she heard you say that."

"Yes'm I suppose she would. That was awfully stupid of me."

"It's too bad," said Billy sweetly, "that Easter can't always be Cordelia's birthday ; she really deserves to have everyone celebrate it."

We all knew this was making Cordelia, who sits next to Billy, hot, but of course she didn't say anything about it. "Look," she said to him suddenly, isn't that Jacky Daw out there?" And while he was looking she emptied half of the contents of the salt-shaker into his glass of water. All of us children saw her do it, but even if we could have warned him of course we wouldn't have. That would not have been playing the game ; besides we all wanted to see old Bill choke. He turned around and took a great swallow,—I wish you could have seen his face! Of course he choked and coughed and sputtered!

"Mercy !" said mother, "whatever happened to you? Hit him on the back, Cordelia." Cordelia gave him a terrible thwack that made his head ring, Bill told us afterwards.

Jarvis and Stephen started to giggle, tried to stop themselves, and went into a choking fit that was even worse than Bill's.

"You children seem to have no manners," said father severely. "Imagine laughing like that at your brother's misfortune! Jarvis and Stephen, leave the table."

This was hard as we were to have Brown Betty for dessert that night, and the twins are devoted to it. But just then nothing made any difference. Stephen managed to get out of the room, but Jarvis simply lay back against his chair, and yelled. Father made him go straight to bed.

You could see from Cordelia's look that she felt she had done a pretty good day's work. I heard her afterwards in the kitchen where she was helping Deborah with the dishes, talking about the man in the fairy tale who used to boast that he could kill three and four at one blow.

IT takes a good deal to satisfy Cordelia so we expected something else to follow. Everything seemed to go along very smoothly however when all at once we began to miss things. We really did think Cordelia had taken them at first, but when she repeated again and again that she hadn't seen them and that she didn't know where they were, we had to believe her for none of us ever tells any real lies. We might make up an occasional tale to bluff each other with, but father says only cowards tell a story with intent to deceive. Besides the things we missed were things that wouldn't do Cordelia any good, because she couldn't use them.

Oliver and Bill lost neckties and pieces of paper with their homework on ; the twins lost whip-lashes, bits of string that they were saving for kites and all sorts of odds and ends. I didn't lose much because I don't leave my things around as a rule,—you don't when you have as many brothers as I have,—and after I came to realize that things were really disappearing, I was more careful than ever. We couldn't tell whether Cordelia was losing anything or not, until one morning I heard her asking Deborah if she had seen her best Dresden hair-ribbon. Of course Deborah hadn't.

"Don't let any one of them know I asked you about it, Deb."

brownies.192105.025.jpg [illustration - "Look ! said Cordelia. "Isn't that Jacky Daw?"]

"No I won't, Honey, you kin count on Deb. Looky here ain't you childrun ever goin' to make up? Wonder who's robbin' you all? Been missin' a few odds and ends myself. No one'd better not lemme git my han's on 'im."

"That settles it then as far as Cordelia's concerned," said Oliver when I told him, "for she certainly wouldn't be taking anything from Deb. Don't you know, I did all my algebra last night and put it on the table in my room. I saw it this morning when I got up, but when I went to get it after breakfast it was gone."

"Might a blew out the window," suggested Jarvis, who doesn't care a rap about grammar and doesn't care who knows it. But Oliver thought that couldn't be.

"The table's too far away from the window for that; besides there wasn't any wind."

In a way this experience was a good one for us for we were beginning to realize that only things which we left lying around, were disturbed, and so we were careful to put our things away. Cordelia was still acting what old Mrs. Hart who lives next door to us calls "ca'am", but we were pretty sure by now that she had nothing to do with the matter, and that we had just happened to put things down and forget where. Then something happened. We were all outdoors one day in the pleasant spring weather,—all seven of us, Becky's kitten "Mister", Alexander, the twins' puppy, and Jacky Daw swaggering along the rim of the grass plot, stopping every now and then to sharpen his bill, and turning a queer, inquiring glance at Cordelia, whose coldness still seemed to puzzle him.

All the windows in our house were open, and so were those in Mrs. Hart's tiny house next door. Mrs. Hart is a little bit of a woman,— "old Dame Trot" we usually call her. She is a widow and, I think, very poor. Her son ran away a long time ago, long before her husband died, so all she has to live on now, is fifty dollars a month which the Government gives her, father says, because her husband fought in the Civil War. (Until I learned about that war, I always thought 'civil' meant being polite, didn't you?) Sometimes she comes over and does a bit of sewing for mother, or some extra cleaning, and we children often run errands for her, and the boys cut the grass, and in the winter father
brownies.192105.026.jpg goes in and "gives her furnace a piece of his mind", as he calls it.

Well there we were all pottering around our back-yard enjoying life, for it was Friday afternoon and we had no lessons to get, when Billy suddenly raised his hand:

"Listen, don't you hear something?"

We all stopped everything we were doing and stood just as still as stones, just like we are when we are playing statues. But we didn't hear anything, and the twins had just started to race Alexander again, when all of us heard this time, first a low moan and then a voice full of tears saying over and over, "What shall I do? Oh what shall I do?"

"It's Dame Trot," said Oliver, and he and Bill were over the low fence before any of us could say "Jack Robinson", supposing any of us had wanted to, which wasn't likely for I've never said "Jack Robinson" in my life, but I notice people are always talking about him in books.

The rest of us, except Becky, rushed in through the little side-gate in the fence, followed by Alexander and Jacky Daw, who, flying through the air, got there before any of us.

Poor little Dame Trot! She had such a sad story to tell. Her check had come that morning and she had gone out and exchanged it for a fifty dollar bill,—"so I wouldn't spend any of it until I just had to," she explained to us. The door-bell rang just then and she went to the door leaving the beautiful new bill on the kitchen table. When she came back, the money was gone. Everything else was just as she left it, the door closed, the window open about a foot,—not a mark or a trace of any kind to be seen.

"But Mrs. Hart," said Oliver (the rest of us were too shocked to speak. Think of losing all that money!), "didn't you go out and look around? Somebody must have taken it, and he couldn't have got very far away."

She had rushed out of doors like somebody mad, she told him. "Twasn't a soul in right, 'ceptin' on'y your Becky, the sweet darlin' and she was playin' out there in your yard with the dog and Jacky Daw and 'Mister'. Oh what must I do? What must I do?"

I think our boys really are very nice. Mother has always told them they must be kind to old ladies. I think she would have been very much pleased if she could have seen them then.

"You mustn't cry," said Oliver putting his arm around her. "Bill and I have got a little money, about $8.00, and you can have that, till you find yours, can't she Bill?"

"Sure," said Billy without holding back a moment, though I know it hit him hard.

"And you can have our two dollars," said the twins. They had been saving it for a kite.

"Rosemary and I have some money too," said Cordelia. "You can have mine, if Rosemary'll let you have hers."

She had fifty-nine cents, and I had four dol- lass! Of course she was getting in some more of her paying back. All of us know pretty well how much money the other has, and any. way we all know that Cordelia never saves anything at all. So in spite of poor Mrs. Hart's trouble, the others had to giggle a little bit. But I kept my face pretty straight and said just as coolly as anything, "Of course you can have my savings, Mrs. Hart. And usually father gives Cordelia five dollars for a birthday present. It's not very far off, and I'll tell him she wants him to give it to you instead."

Well that was a promise of about $19.00, nearly half of what Mrs. Hart lost, and when we had told her that we'd all be on the lookout for her fifty dollars, and would get mother to give her some work, she felt quite a bit better.

"THAT was mighty quick thinking you did Rosemary," said Oliver admiringly, as we trooped home. "Glad you didn't let Cordelia get away with all that coin."

"Yes!" said Billy, "but you wait. She'll put something over on us yet, she hasn't finished with us. I know Cordelia."

Cordelia however said and did nothing. Except that suddenly she and Jacky Daw struck up a closer friendship than ever. At least she showed the friendship. Jacky didn't seem to take it so well. She tagged him everywhere, and by and by he seemed to get right sulky about it. But the sulkier he grew, the more pleased and superior she looked. She even condescended to hold conversations with us, though she was still none too friendly.

I spoke of it to Oliver. "Yes I've noticed it too, guess she's coming around all right. She didn't do so much to us this time did she? Just got Jarvis and Steve sent to bed, and robbed you of your money. Wonder what she'll do to me and Bill?"

brownies.192105.027.jpg

He was out in the garden spading his and Bill's flower-bed. The two of them raise very fine spring flowers,—tulips, crocuses and jonquils. They have done it now for three years —father of course helped them at first—and reap a really good sum. They have regular customers whom they supply from about the middle of March until May first. It is true they raise other flowers too during the summer. but these do not pay so well as the early flowers.

Their flower-plot is just back of the outside kitchen which is a single shed-like room with a very steep roof. The roof begins just below the window of Cordelia's room which is over the kitchen. As Oliver finished speaking, he glanced up and saw Cordelia looking down at us with a very peculiar air.

"Wonder what she's got up her sleeve now?" said Billy. He had just raised himself up from the bed which he too had been tending, and had also caught sight of her at the window.

"Oh nothing," I said carelessly. "She's just watching for Jacky Daw. You know he's always flying up there around that chimney and she's just nuts on him lately. Aren't those crocuses wonderful, boys—you ought to get a mint for them."

"I should say so," Billy answered vigorously, fanning himself with his cap. "Giving that money to Dame Trot just about emptied our treasury. Poor old thing! Wonder what on earth became of that bill. Holy snakes, Oliver, will you look at Cordelia!"

All of us looked where he pointed. Out of her window came Cordelia crawling out on the slippery roof, her eyes glued to Jacky Daw who seemed to be pecking away at a loose brick in the kitchen chimney. It was only a foot away from the window and she crawled to it unharmed on all fours, stood up, and began to poke her plump brown fingers in a crack. Then Jacky Daw did a queer thing. He flew around her head, flapped his wings in her face, and pecked at her fingers. But she kept on fumbling, fumbling and we could see her hand close on something. Just then Jacky gave a very violent flap right in front of her eyes. She closed them, lost her balance and came rolling over and over, her stiff, black cotton legs sticking out from under her short dress, down the steep roof, over the edge of it, and, kerplunk! right in the beginning of the boys' flower-bed.

And still she rolled. That plot does slope a little but not enough I think to cause Cordelia to roll as much as she did. I think I have said before that Cordelia is short, but chunky. Those flowers where she had rolled looked as though an army of giants had trampled on them. Fortunately for Oliver and Bill, one stiffly outstretched foot struck against a clothes prop and it slid down and knocked her, pretty hard I think, across her head. She lay still then.

Father and mother and the rest of us came running. I could see Oliver and Bill turning to stone. Their beautiful flower-bed! Yet they could say nothing, for think what father and mother would have said if they had seemed to think more of their flowers than of their little sister!

SHE had got even with the last one of us! But she had done more than that. She lay there perfectly still in her checked red and white gingham dress. But just as we got up to her she began to wave her hand. In it was an oblong piece of bright yellow paper.

Mrs. Hart's fifty-dollar bill!

"You know that day Dame Trot told us about the money," she explained to us Sitting on the sofa, her broken head tied up (except for the clothes prop she hadn't been hurt a bit!), "I noticed that she said the only person around was Becky, and that she was playing with 'Mister' and Jacky Daw. When she said his name, Jacky,—he was sitting on the back of the chair—looked up in the funniest way. I bet that old bird has a lot of sense. And then it came to me I'd often seen him carry things around in his bill, good-sized things too. Don't you remember, Oliver, that time he flew off with your picture postal-card?"

"Well that's where all our things have been going," said Billy. "The old thief!"

"That's what I thought," Cordelia said proudly. "And I said to myself, 'He never goes outside this yard. He must drop or hide the things here.' So I began to watch him. He has two or three hiding places and I found Oliver's homework, and Steve's whip-lash, but I couldn't find the money. Then I began to watch him from my window, because you can see all over the yard from that and today he
brownies.192105.028.jpg came flying up with a piece of paper,—Jarvis' examples were on it,—and stuck it in a hole behind a loose brick in the chimney. And I knew right off that that was where he'd put the money. And it was."

"And you climbed out and got it," said mother, "you're a smart girl."

"Yes'm, and I fell and smashed the flowers. And I'm so sorry," said Cordelia, sweetly. Too sweetly, for we all knew that she knew she had meant to do it.

"Oh," said father, "that doesn't matter. I'm sure the boys would much rather have you unharmed than all the flowers in the world." We knew he'd say that.

"You're a regular heroine," father went on, and took her in his arms. I'm going to send Oliver over with this fifty dollars to Mrs. Hart and do you know what else I'm going to do? I'm going to give you ten dollars all for your self for your birthday—here I'll give it to you now." And he counted her out ten, new, green dollars.

She lay back against him, her fat fists full of money, looking at us kindly. It made Oliver so weak he had to sit down before going to Mrs. Hart's.

"My precious daughter," said mother stroking her head where it wasn't tied up. "why didn't you get one of the boys to climb up and get the money?"

"Because," said Cordelia, looking us all over, "I wanted some people to know that even if my birthday wasn't celebrated all over the country, it ought to be."

Of course neither one of our parents knew what she was talking about. Mother turned to father with the most puzzled look. "Oliver," she groaned, "what do you suppose we've done, you and I, to have such astonishing children?"

The Grown-Ups' Corner

THE BROWNIES' Book has been here one week and just as my three kiddies come in from school I am confronted with the question,— "Mother, did THE BROWNIES' BOOK come to-day?" I have tried to explain that it is a monthly periodical but this means nothing. Until the next issue arrives I will be answering the same question every day.

MRS. PAGE ANDERSON, Chambersburg, Pa.

THE BROWNIES' BOOK has nothing but friends where it is known. You would swell with pride if you could hear the commendations of mothers and teachers who have become familiar with it. In Charleston, S. C., Miss Baytop told me that she found one of her little day nursery charges down on her stomach with BROWNIES' open at the pictures of little friends, kissing each of them repeatedly. She says that the scene was the most striking thing she had witnessed in her uplift work. A mother in Winston-Salem, N. C., told me that it was only through THE BROWNIES' BOOK that she had been able to get her four-year-old son interested in reading. At Lynchburg, Va., the teacher of drawing in the colored schools is a southern white woman. She has become so interested in THE BROWNIES' BOOK that she uses it in her drawing classes, inspiring her pupils with the suggestion that if they do their work with sufficient excellence they may get it published. Wherever I have approached teachers and explained how BROWNIES' would aid them in creating a vision in their little folks they have been responsive.

THOMAS J. CALLOWAY, Washington, D. C.

I SAY frankly I am for the BROWNIES' BOOK. It fills as no other magazine can do a most unique place in the lives of our young folk. I feel sure it will score the brilliant success that it deserves.

It aptly inspires with that splendid patriotism which so beautifully becomes our youth.

R. S. JACOBSON, Oklahoma City, Okla.

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Our Little Friends

brownies.192105.030.jpg

THE JURY

WE are two young men striving to be of some service to the race and we are at present attending Paul Quinn College. We are very close pals and in the same grade, and both of us are striving for the leadership of our class.

English is our main study, and our lessons are practically from THE BROWNIES' BOOK which we find very interesting and amusing.

Our teacher, Mrs. Caroline Bond Day, has written several stories in THE BROWNIES' Book. We find that this magazine broadens our ideas and increases our vocabularies. We are advising every boy and girl to read it.

M. M. TAYLOR, M. B. S. SLAUGHTER, Waco, Texas.

(My silver half-dollar told me this story. I thought you might like to hear it too.)

I WAS taken from a mine, carried to a work shop and mixed with other ingredients. Then I was conveyed to the smelting room and put into a large iron pot, melted and then cooled. From here I went to the rolling and cutting room and was placed between two iron jaws and rolled out to the thickness of a coin, and then shaped. I went to the cleaning room and was thoroughly cleaned with heat and acid, and rubbed off with saw-dust. At this point I was a legal coin.

I was first used by a little girl, and she, seeing how bright and pretty I was, placed me in her bank, because this was the first new half- dollar she had ever seen. Here I stayed for a long time with other coins until the bank was full ; then she put me in a National Bank. However, I did not stay there long for I was drawn out by a man who was going on a very long journey. After we were on the boat for a long time we got off, but were again soon transferred to another boat.

This was a very tiresome journey for I had never traveled before. After we had landed, for we had ended our journey, every one I saw looked different from the people I had been seeing, and also talked differently. I was carried to the store to buy bread and said to be no good. I thought this was very funny for the little girl had thought so much of me and I had also been in a National Bank. This worried me, but I soon found out that I was in a foreign country. I was put in a pocket-book with some other coins; here I saw some very interesting things and enjoyed myself until one day we were sold to the natives. This troubled me, because I did not like the idea of staying in a place where I was not good. When all the coins except a few of us were nearly gone it was decided that we should go on another journey.

We again got on a boat and went straight to New York. This I thought was the most beautiful place I had ever seen. I was then sent to the store to buy bread and this time was pronounced good. How happy I was! From here I went to the place where I was made and saw the White House and many other places. I went to Richmond! where I stayed a long time. One day while in Richmond I was given to a very old and poor lady who was exceedingly glad to get me, so this ended my journey.

VASHTI TOMKINS, Hampton, Va.

To Thee

[This is the translation of "A Ti" in the April BROWNIES' BOOK.]

YOU are, 0 BROWNIES' BOOK 
A wonderful charm, 
Bringing overflowing joy 
To childhood. 

You arrived, 0 BROWNIES' BOOK, 
Scattering plenty; 
May your glorious "entente" 
Live, live forever! 

brownies.192105.031.jpg [illustration - Cadet Corps Officers]

brownies.192105.032.jpg

AS THE CROW FLIES

THE Crow is thinking hard these days. He wants to have his children read more. Books, books, books are precious things. Once upon a time there were no books and only Kings and Priests could know. Now all may learn from books. Do you read books?

The French Government will have to raise 5,000,000,000 francs or $1,000,000,000 for its expenses this year.
The United States is trying to keep Panama and Costa Rica from going to war over a boundary dispute.
This government is in a curious position with regard to settlements under the treaty to stop the War. It has not ratified the treaty and therefore can not sit in councils with the other nations. At the same time it refuses to agree with what the other nations do.
Greece has renewed war with Turkey, but the Turks seem to be getting the best of it.
The Japanese House of Representatives has passed a bill allowing women to attend political meetings. This is a small first step.
At the Conference of London the Germans offered to pay seven and one-half billion dollars for war damages. The Allies demanded fifty- six billions. A deadlock ensued and Allied Armies have occupied part of Germany.
The population of Japan is 77,000,000 of which 66,000,000 are in Japan proper and the rest in Korea, Formosa and elsewhere.
The formal peace treaty between Russia and Poland has finally been signed.
Denis J. Dougherty, Archbishop of Philadelphia, has been made a Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church.
M. Viviani, formerly Prime Minister of France is in this country on an errand of friendship to the American Government.
The British Government in 1921 to 1922 will spend four hundred billion dollars on its navy.
A trade agreement between Russia and Great Britain has been signed.
Encounters are still occurring daily between the Sinn Fein and the British Crown forces in Ireland. In one week 27 were killed and 23 wounded.
Upper Silesia, in the eastern part of Germany, has taken a vote as to whether it would remain in Germany or be incorporated in Poland. An overwhelming majority of the people desired to stay in Germany.
There have been outbreaks of Communists in Germany, especially at Hamburg.
In England the coal mines during the War were taken over by the government which regulated the wages of the miners. At the end of the War the government promised to take up the matter of nationalizing the mines but did not do so. Recently it was suddenly announced that the mines would be returned to their former owners. The owners immediately announced a decrease in wages. Over one million miners went out on strike and millions of other workingmen were ready to strike in support. Negotiations between the government, the owners and the miners are now going on in an endeavor to stop the strike.
The Allies have warned Germany that unless she pays twelve billion marks before May 1 further penalties will be inflicted upon her.
The famine still continues in China; the death rate being one thousand a day in 22 counties of Ronan.
The rebellion against the Bolsheviki at Cronstadt, Russia has apparently been put down.
Tokio, Japan has had a fire with losses of twelve and one-half million dollars and 133 persons injured.
There has been a wide-spread plot to restore the Emperor Charles of Austria to his former Hungarian throne. He suddenly appeared in Hungary but was finally compelled to leave without result.

brownies.192105.033.jpg

LAST night the Crow looked at the stars. Do you ever look at the stars? All the long years of this old, old world, men have studied the stars and slowly, slowly the stars have told their secrets—their vast and endless secrets. Study the stars.

Arthur Hamilton has dropped safely nearly five miles from an airplane by using a parachute.
A strike of nearly one hundred thousand workers in the packing industry, including many colored people, has been threatened but finally the workers have submitted to a reduction of wages, and the packers have agreed to keep the eight-hour day.
Eugene Debs, who is imprisoned in Atlanta because he did not believe in war, was allowed to go unaccompanied to Washington to talk with the Attorney-General and to return alone.
Cardinal Gibbons, the head of the Catholic Church in America, is dead at Baltimore in his 87th year.
The United States has been investigating forced labor, called peonage, in the South. In Jasper County, Georgia a white planter, John Williams, was so alarmed by the investigation that he caused 11 of his colored peons to be killed lest they be witnesses against him. He has been tried and convicted of murder.
According to a Senate report the United States needs at present one million more houses for homes.
John Burroughs, the famous student of nature is dead in his 84th year.
President Harding has opened the 65th Congress by a speech delivered in person before both Houses.
One report says that the cost of food is today only 8-1/10 per cent. higher than in July, 1914.
The Rockefeller Foundation has given nine million dollars to the medical schools and universities of Brussels, Belgium.
In spite of the fact that leading nations of Europe are beginning to trade with Russia, the United States still refuses.
The strike of fifteen thousand painters which began last September in New York has finally been settled. They sought a 40 hour, five-day week at $10 a day. They succeeded in getting a 40 hour, five-day week at $9.00 a day.
The present session of Congress which started April 11 is an extra session. Its members were elected last November. The regular session begins next December.
Major General Leonard Wood will soon become president of the University of Pennsylvania.
President Harding has asked that the Senate ratify the treaty with Colombia which involves payment to Colombia for land which the United States stole.
Negotiations are proceeding between the railroad officials and employees looking toward a reduction of wages.
There was a race riot in Springfield, Ohio, which called out the National Guard.
A mob of American Legion men tarred two speakers in Kansas and chased away a former United States senator. They did not want to hear about organization among foreigners.
Charles D. B. King, President of Liberia, and a commission are in this country conducting final negotiations for a $5,000,000 loan.
It is said that in the last campaign the Republicans spent eight million dollars and the Democrats two and one-quarter millions.
Representatives of the students of different colleges met at Harvard University and formed an Intercollegiate Liberal League. This is designed to create among college men and women "an intelligent interest in the problems of the day."
Railroad employees are contending with the railroads to resist a threatened reduction of wages. The railroads of the United States during 1920 paid in wages $3,733,816,186.
Rene Viviani, Envoy Extraordinary, from the French Republic, has been in America discussing our relations with France.
George Harvey has been appointed United States Ambassador to Great Britain.
Ten thousand building trade employees are on strike. in Massachusetts against reduction of wages.
Albert Einstein, the great scientist, is in this country to help raise funds for the new Jewish nation in Palestine. Einstein is the discoverer of the doctrine of "Relativity". This means that in small spaces such as we deal with on the earth we can assume that straight lines are always straight and moving bodies, always the same size; but when we consider the vast distances of the universe of stars this is not always true.

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POEMS

CARRIE W. CLIFFORD

I

God's Children

ELIZABETH was English, 
Rebeckah was a Jew, 
Eileen was an Irish lass, 
And very pretty too. 

Carmen was a Spaniard, 
And French was sweet Marie, 
Gretchen was a German, 
And tidy as could be. 

Juliet was a Roman, 
Minerva, Greek, you see, 
Wenonah was an Indian, 
And lived in a tee-pee. 

Beatrice was Italian, 
Yum-Hum was Japanese, 
Pale Vera was a Russian, 
And San Toy a Chinese. 

Dark Dinah was a Negro, 
Fair Hilda was a Swiss; 
More maids were there, including 
Scotch Jane, a charming miss. 

Now all of these dear children 
Are cousins you can see, 
And though they may not look alike, 
Are like as like can be! 

For all have souls and minds and hearts, 
Image of God above; 
And all must keep His great command 
To trust, to hope and love. 

II

Mr. and Mrs. Barbary Ape

WHEN Mr. and Mrs. Barbary Ape 
Arrived at the Washington Zoo, 
Oh, my! there was hurrying 
And such a wild scurrying 
And quite a big hullaballoo! 

The monkeys all sat at attention 
Eyes wide and mouths agape! 
For they never had seen 
Such strange creatures, I ween, 
Belong to the family of Ape. 

They sought to conceal their amusement; 
But their efforts did not avail; 
"Now what do you think," 
Said Baboon with a wink, 
"They have never the sign of a tail!" 

"They walk erect just like humans— 
Their eye-brows are perfectly white!" 
To the monkey-house folk, 
They were quite a huge joke, 
For they really were a strange sight. 

III

A Model Program for My Little Lady

WAKE, my little lady! 
Plunge into your morning tub, 
Then with your towel briskly rub, 
Wake, my little lady! 

Eat, my little lady! 
Toothsome porridge luscious fruit, 
And a square of toast to boot, 
Eat, my little lady! 

Run my little lady! 
Out where garden-roses grow, 
Skip and frolic to and fro, 
Run, my little lady! 

Learn, my little lady! 
Study hard each day at school, 
Always heed the Golden Rule, 
Learn, my little lady! 

Sleep, my little lady! 
On your bed all soft and white, 
Rest and dream until the light, 
Sleep my little lady! 

XML file: brownies.192105.xml

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

A CHAMPIONSHIP CONTEST

THE BROWNIES' BOOK

CONTENTS

FIFTEEN CENTS A COPY: ONE DOLLAR AND A HALF A YEAR FOREIGN SUBSCRIPTIONS TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EXTRA

BLACK CAT MAGIC

God's Masterpiece

PLAYTIME

THREE GAMES

ANSWERS TO LAST MONTH'S PUZZLES

YADA

GIRLS TOGETHER

"A Child's Thought"

TABOO

The Moon-Bird

A Legend of Central Africa

Little People of the Month

CORDELIA GOES ON THE WARPATH

The Grown-Ups' Corner

Our Little Friends

THE JURY

To Thee

AS THE CROW FLIES

POEMS

I

God's Children

II

Mr. and Mrs. Barbary Ape

III

A Model Program for My Little Lady

FIFTEEN CENTS A COPY: ONE DOLLAR AND A HALF A YEAR
FOREIGN SUBSCRIPTIONS TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EXTRA