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

The Brownies' Book
June, 1921
One Dollar and a Half a Year
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Certificate filed in New York County, No. 164. New York Register No. 2122. (My commission expires Mar. 30, 1922.)

Statement of the Ownership, Management, Circulation, etc., required by the Act of Congress of August 24, 1912, of THE BROWNIES' BOOK, published monthly at 2 West 13th Street, New York N. Y., for April 1, 1921.

  • State of New York
  • County of New York

Before me, a Notary Public, in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally appeared Augustus Granville Dill. who, having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says that he is the Joint Owner-Business Manager of THE BROWNIES' BOOK, and that the following is, to the best of his knowledge and belief, a true statement of the ownership management, etc., of the aforesaid publication for the date shown in the above caption, required by the Act of August 54, 1912, embodied in section 443. Postal Laws and Regulations:

  • DuBois and Dill, Publishers, 2 West 13th St., New York, N.Y.
  • Editor, W. E. Burghardt DuBois, 2 West 13th St., New York, N.Y.
  • Managing Editor, Jessie Redmon Fauset, 2 West 13th St., New York, N.Y.
  • Business Manager. Augustus Granville Dill, 2 West 13th St., New York, N. Y.
  • Owners, DuBois and Dill, Publishers, 2 West 13th St., New York, N. Y.
  • W. E. Burghardt Du Bois, 2 West 13th St., New York, N. Y.
  • Augustus Granville Dill, 2 Went 13th St., New York. N. Y.

Known bondholders, mortgagees and other security holders owning or holding 1 per cent or more of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities: None.


Sworn to and subscribed before me this 31st day of March, 1921.

FRANK M. TURNER, Notary Public Queens County, No. 754

Certificate filed in New York County, No. 164. New York Register No. 2122. (My commission expires Mar. 30, 1922.)



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. 2. No. 6. JUNE, 1921 WHOLE. No. 18


COVER. Drawing. "The Baby Belle." H. Curtis Brown
HOW JOHNNY GOT TO BOARDING SCHOOL. A Story. Claudia Davis. Illustrated by Hilda Rue Wilkinson 163
OUR LITTLE FRIENDS. Four Pictures 169
A LITTLE TALK ABOUT WEST AFRICA Kathleen Easmon Illustated 170
COME ON IN! A Poem. C. Leslie Frazier 173
LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE MONTH. Susan Payton Worthham. Illustrated 173
THE CHILDREN'S TREASURE. A Play. Willis Richardson 176
BABY BLUEDIRD. A Poem. Winifred Virginia Jordan 179
PLAYTIME. English Indoor and Outdoor Games. Arranged by Eugenie Raves 181
A BLACK RUSSIAN. A True Story. Catherine Deaver Lealtad 182
ONCE 'TWAS A PIG. A Story. Julian Elihu Bagley. Illustrated by Hilda Rue Wilkinson 186


  • RENEWALS: The date of expiration of each subscription is printed on the wrapper. When subscription is due a yellow renewal blank is enclosed.
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  • Application pending for entry as second class matter at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., under the Act of March 3, 1879.

[illustration - A Wedding in Fumban, Kamerun. Africa]


The Brownies' Book

Vol 2--No. 6 June 1921 WHOLE No.18



JOHNNY BLAIR was eleven years old and possessed the usual small boy's aversion to the feminine sex. He had absolutely no use for girls, and nursed a grievance against them all, due to a rather forceful and very humiliating boxing of his ears by one young lady to whose luxuriant pigtail he had valiantly tied a dead mouse. From the time of this episode on, he had maintained an attitude of masculine dignity and indifference to all girls in general and to Betty Clark in particular.

Wrightsville Boarding School was the seat of learning for many boys and girls up to fourteen years of age, and it was Johnny's ambition to be there with three or four of his friends who had gone. He lived in Greenville, a town about ten or twelve miles from Wrightsville, and had plenty of opportunity of hearing about its merits and opportunities. He knew the boys made raids on the pantry at night when everyone was asleep and lights were out. He also knew that many boys were sent there because they were considered unruly at home, and their parents had sent them there for the discipline. He knew too that Robert Henson had been sent home after being caught one night climbing down the fire-escape on his way to a neighboring orchard to steal green apples. Nevertheless, Johnny's fondest hopes centered around Wrightsville Boarding School, and he was determined to go there, even if he had to be so naughty at home that his parents would send him.

Johnny's other ambition was to become a public speaker. Once, on a visit to his grandmother's farm, his father had taken him to a Baptist Revival, and the impression of waving arms and thumped tables, and talking through one's nose to a chorus of "Amens" of the congregation, had made a deep impression on his mind, and he was determined to move audiences to do likewise by his eloquence. He didn't remember very much about that revival, but he
did remember the long, lank man in the shabby Prince Albert coat talking and gesticulating and drinking water every now and then, while the congregation voiced its approval of his words by loud moans and shrieks and weeping. Johnny didn't know what the preacher was talking about, being too busily engaged in watching his gestures and listening to the continuous undercurrent of the voices of the congregation. However, he didn't want to be a minister; all he had ever seen seemed to be very popular with women and Johnny didn't want to be popular with the girls; he almost hated them all. No, he wouldn't be a clergyman; a public speaker would just about fill the bill and and bring him his deserved popularity (among the men).

Betty was Johnny's rival in almost everything in the school they attended. She recited very well, even to Johnny's way of thinking— (and he considered himself an excellent judge) —although he wouldn't admit it. She was a bright-eyed little youngster with rosy cheeks and a long braid of curly black hair. Her seat being next to Johnny's, he took delight in worrying her by pulling this braid and tying things to it.

One day the teacher announced that on the following Friday the superintendent of the schools in that district would award a prize of $5.00 to the pupil who, in his estimation, could entertain the best. The pupils were to choose their own form of entertainment, but it was understood they would most likely be limited to recitations and singing and instrumental selections.

It occurred to Betty that if she should win the $5.00, the boys would simply have to respect the girls. Each girl nursed a secret desire that if she, herself, did not win the award, some other girl would, in order to pay the boys back for snubbings rendered the fairer sex on various occasions.

The boys, on the other hand, were so sure of Johnny's ability at reciting, that it never crossed their minds that there was a possibility of the girls' winning.

Naturally, on account of the friction existing between the sexes, each faction tried to keep its plans secret. Betty conceived the wonderful idea of having a "bubble dance"; she would have a pretty dress on and would dance to some pretty music which the teacher would play; and then, last of all, she would surprise them all by having real bubbles.

Betty's uncle in the neighboring city kept a toy shop and Betty had $3.50 in her bank. She would spend $.50 for balloons, fifty of them and such pretty ones they would be too, red and yellow and green and purple. Of course, her performance would be the most unique and she would undoubtedly be the winner, and everyone would be so glad the boys didn't walk away with the honors. She had it all arranged; she would have her father fill the little parti-colored bags with hydrogen and then she would have them attached to a string, and at the end of her dance, by pulling the string, she would break it, releasing the "bubbles", which would then float out into the room. She had done a "Butterfly Dance" at the gymnastic exercises the year before, and she would just repeat that dance, adding to it. The boys would be so surprised. Betty could just imagine herself claiming the $5.00 afterward, the audience applauding and the boys very much chagrined. She would have her little head high in the air, with her little snub nose pointing straight to Heaven, and she wouldn't notice a thing in the room with trousers on. Yes, she would show them that girls were some use after all.

Betty had a chum to whom she confided all her secrets. That afternoon during recess period, she got Jeanette, or Janey as she was called, in the closet and unfolded to her the plan. One of the boys had once tried to walk up the edge of that door, so in consequence, it was warped, leaving a crack when it was closed. At that time, Johnny, who had been playing ball in the yard, came inside to get a drink of water. While in there, he heard the two girls talking. At first he didn't pay much attention, but "Friday" came to his ears and immediately he was all attention. A little voice told him he shouldn't listen to confidential talks, but his curiosity and his dislike of girls got the better of him. He also tried to gloss over his feelings by saying he was being loyal to the "boys," and it was his duty to warn them of the girls' plans. Therefore, he stayed in the room and listened. He was rather nonplused by the plan at first, but then he remembered that when he began to speak and made such beautiful gestures, the prize would just have to go to him; but in the meanwhile, he was going to fix Betty. She was trying to be too smart.

When Friday came, Betty had Janey help
[illustration - She was Graceful and Lovely ]
her bring the balloons to school while her father would come later to blow them up; this process was to be done while school was in session so that no one, but the teacher should know about it. Johnny knew that the balloons burned easily, so he came armed with a box of matches. He was going to burn the string away, before hand, and spoil Betty's scene by releasing the balloons too soon. Of course, he would put out the fire before the flame reached the balloons, but even if he didn't, no harm would result as the woodwork and flooring, etc., were fireproof, due to their having been treated with some chemical.

The younger pupils were called upon first, and they rendered their parts excellently. Then Johnny was called. He mounted the platform from the closet-like room on the side with a great show of importance and began his selection. In a voice as far down in his throat as he could make it, in order to imitate the nasal' tones of the country preacher, he recited. His arms were waving, he walked from one side of the platform to the other. He put one hand in his pocket, the other behind his back and strutted, and talked, and thumped the table in true, realistic style. He had had the table put there, with a pitcher of water on it, as the preacher had done, to the great delight of the other fellows.

"Hum-m-m, he thinks he is so much," sniffed Janey.

"Well, he is real good," answered Dorothy, who secretly, was a great admirer of Johnny, although he treated her almost as coolly as the others.

"Well, even if he is, Betty will be much better."

"I doubt it; how do you know?"

"Oh, I know, all right."

"You think you know it all," was the retort.

Just then Johnny made an exceptionally broad flourish with his arm and knocked over the pitcher of water, which of course materially detracted from the dignity (?) of the performance. Everyone giggled, and, very red in the face, Johnny tried to continue but finally gave it up and returned to his seat.

"Now, you see," declared Janey to Dorothy.

Dorothy remembered certain snubs Johnny had bestowed upon her, and answered, "Well, I always wanted a girl to win anyway."

When Betty was announced, she was the last on the program. She had on the little chiffon frock teacher had made for her when she danced at the gymnastic exercises the year before. When the first chords of the selection sounded, she poised on one foot, and then began. Round and round she pirouetted, her tiny feet twinkling in and out of the intricate steps. She was graceful and lovely, and even Johnny couldn't help but admire the dance.

"She'll do, for a girl," he muttered.

Then his conscience pricked him and he decided he wouldn't try to spoil it. He admitted to himself she was nearly as good an entertainer as he. Then Joe, an evil-minded little urchin from one of the poorer sections of town whispered, "Are you goin' to do it?"

"No," said Johnny.

"She is better'n you, you know."

"Well, if she wins it, she can have it," magnanimously. Then, with a great show of bravado, "She would need it more than I anyway."

"You're scared to," was the retort.

"I'm not."

"You are; you wouldn't dare."

"I do dare."

"You don't. I double dare you."

Now, of course, no boy can let a dare go by, so to redeem himself in the eyes of Joe (and all the other boys as Johnny thought), Johnny crept out of his seat into the little room opening from the platform. Striking a match, he applied it to the string confining the little brightly colored spheres. Just then, Betty, glancing through the door, saw him. Dancing over to his direction, she whispered "Don't do that!" But it was too late. The little flame, creeping up the string faster than Johnny had imagined, reached the "bubbles" and, BANG! the hydrogen exploded.

Johnny was scared nearly to death. He hadn't figured on the balloons being blown up with anything but air, and anyway, never having studied chemistry, he wasn't prepared for the effects of fire applied to hydrogen. There was nearly a panic in the class room, and Betty, so disappointed at missing the thrilling climax to her scene, lay down on the platform and nearly cried.

Johnny got a glimpse of the little white form on the floor, thought he had injured her, and in he rushed. Betty didn't move; she was determined Johnny shouldn't see her cry. By that time, everyone had rushed to the platform to see what was the matter with Betty. When they surrounded her, Johnny was pushed aside.


Seeing Janey emerging from the crowd around Betty, he asked her whether Betty was hurt or not. Janey had an idea that Johnny was somewhere at the bottom of the trouble, so she determined to punish him.

"You have put out both of her eyes," she said. Then he almost collapsed.

Just then, two or three balloons that had escaped before the flames had reached them, sailed majestically across the room, one of them directly above the superintendent's head. Said official took it and asked what it was for. The teacher explained.

"Well," said he, "she deserves the prize just for the idea."

By this time, Janey had once more regained Betty's side.

"Close your eyes and make b'lieve you're blind; I'm fooling Johnny," she rapidly whispered. Betty caught the idea at once, and her sense of humor asserting itself, she resolved to get a little amusement out of the situation, even if it had to be at Johnny's expense.

To her father she whispered "Take me home Dad, before Johnny sees me." Her father complied and before Johnny had got a glimpse of her, she had left.

Johnny suffered all night, believing he had been the cause of Betty's losing her sight. No self-condemnation was too great for him. He was the meanest boy on earth to hurt Betty. Betty had always been a little trump, and even if she had slapped him, it was no more than he had deserved. Johnny could picture himself locked up in jail for the rest of his life, while poor little Betty would have to be led around by some other person, the same as old man Jameson, a War Veteran. She would never be able to dance any more, nor walk without aid. If ever there was a miserable boy in Greenville, Johnny was that lad. He tossed from one side of his bed to the other, but could find no relief from his terrifying thoughts. Betty's little dancing figure seemed to sway before him all night. Toward morning he finally fell asleep, only to be awakened by his mother, as it was time to get ready for school.

Johnny didn't want to go to school; he fairly hated the sight of the building; besides, if he left the house, the Law would have him in its clutches for a murderer. He was forced to go, however, as no one knew he had been in any way responsible for yesterday's accident. Therefore, he bolstered up what little courage he had left, and out he trudged. What was his surprise upon arriving at school, but to see Betty serenely there as large as Life itself.

"Betty," he cried, "I though you were blind."

Betty laughed. "I wanted to teach you a lesson," she answered. He was so relieved he could have hugged her right there, even if the boys should ostracize him forever afterward.

It was some time before anyone found out how it really happened. Betty wouldn't tell on Johnny, and no one but Joe knew that Johnny had anything at all to do with it. Betty had received the prize, anyway, so she didn't much mind since Johnny seemed to be so sorry. A short while afterwards, Johnny and Joe had an argument over a game of marbles and Joe tattled on Johnny. Of course, no one liked Joe any more, but then, he had never been too popular with either the boys or the girls.

When the truth was found out, everyone rallied around Betty. "Gee, you are a brick, not to tell:" many of them told her. Johnny was her staunch champion. He had come to believe that it was the person and not the sex that mattered.

When Johnny's parents heard of it, they were very angry. "I shall send you to Wrightsville Boarding School the very beginning of next term," Mrs. Blair declared. Whereupon Johnny's soul rejoiced.

Then he realized that when he went, he would have to leave Betty. They had grown to be such good chums that the thought of separation was anything but pleasant. But twelve miles wasn't so much he could return every weekend and holidays. One afternoon, after thinking about the prospect, he took a piece of soft rubber eraser which leaves a mark on wood, and wrote on the high polish of Betty's desk:

"Girls are all right."

"I knew it all the time," wrote back she.



M Y teacher wants to know which is the greatest continent," said Billikins.

"America," answered Billy promptly.

Why?" asked the Judge.

"O, well—it just is, everybody knows that." "I should certainly say Europe," said William.

"Why?" asked the Judge again.

"Because it's the center of the greatest civilization the world has known—the leader in Art and Science and Industry, and governs most of the world."

"Nevertheless, I should say Asia," said Wilhelmina, "because it is the oldest and wisest—the mother of all religion, the home of most men, the mother of races and the originator of human culture."

"And I," said the Judge, "would say Africa." They all stared at him.

"Are you joking?" asked Billy.


"But you don't really mean it," protested William.

"I suppose," pouted Wilhelmina, "that you're just saying Africa because we are all of African descent. Of course⁸"

"Do I usually lie?" asked the Judge.

"No-o oh no !—but how on earth can you say that Africa is the greatest continent? It is stuck way in the back of the Atlas and the geography which Billy uses, devotes only a paragraph to it."

"I say it because I believe it it so. Not because I want to believe it true—not because I think it ought to be true, but because in my humble opinion it is true."

And may we know the reasons?" said William.

"Certainly : they are seven."

("0 Master, we are Seven", chanted Wilhelmina.)

"First: Africa was the only continent with a climate mild and salubrious enough to foster the beginnings of human culture.

"Second: Africa excels all other continents in the variety and luxuriance of its natural products.

"Third: In Africa originated probably the first, certainly the longest, most vigorous, human civilization.

"Fourth: Africa made the first great step in human culture by discovering the use of iron.

"Fifth: Art in form and rhythm, drawing and music found its earliest' and most promising beginnings in Africa.

"Sixth: Trade in Africa was the beginning of modern world commerce.

"Seventh: Out of enslavement and degradation on a scale such as humanity nowhere else has suffered, Africa still stands today, with her gift of world labor that has raised the great crops of Sugar, Rice, Tobacco and Cotton and which lie at the foundation of modern industrial democracy."

"Gee!" said Billy.

"Don't understand," wailed Billikins.

"Few people do," said the Judge.

"I was just wondering," mused Wilhelmina, "who the guys are that write our histories and geographies."

"Well you can bet they're not colored," said William.

"No—not yet," said the Judge.

"Do they tell lies?" asked Billy.

"No they tell what they think is the truth."

"And I suppose," said Wilhelmina, "that what one thinks is the truth, is the truth."

"Certainly not," answered the Judge. "To tell what one believes is the truth, is not necessarily to lie, but it is not consequently true."

"Then one can tell falsehoods and not always lie."


"I'm going to try that," said Billy.

"I wouldn't," warned the Judge. "You see it's this way: there are lots of things to be known and few to know them. Our duty is therefore not simply to tell what we believe is true, but to remember our ignorance and be sure that we know before we speak."

[illustration - OUR LITTLE FRIENDS]



M ANY of you who read THE BROWNIES' BOOK have already heard stories from many parts of Africa. I am bringing you a greeting from the Brownies on the west coast. If they knew how, they would write you a letter, but as very few of them have an opportunity of going to school, it is customary when they want to tell any one of what is happening in their particular village for them to send a greeting by some one who is travelling. This greeting is sometimes a very long one telling all about what is happening in the village, how many children have been born, how many old people have died, how many strangers have visited them and then many other things which, you no doubt would leave out in writing a letter, such as how the cattle are, sheep, goats and even chickens. They also would tell of the rainfall and how the crops are. One wonders how the messenger remembers everything that he is told, but as it is a custom of the people to take a very keen personal interest in everything that is going on, no doubt the messenger supplements from his own knowledge the greetings which have been given to him.

So I am going to take this privilege of the messenger and tell you some things which perhaps the children of one particular village might not know about. I am going to tell you of things that happen in various parts of the West Coast of Africa. But while we are talking about messengers I think you might be interested in some of the ways the messages are sent. Travellers often are astonished at the rapidity with which news of their arrival is passed from one village on to another. Of course as you may have read there are few horses in West Africa and in the particular part that I am going to tell you about, Sierra Leone, horses do not live at all. Sometimes messages are sent by a runner, but often the distance from one village to another is so great that it would be impossible for any man to run there as quickly as the news flies.

How then is it done? By a system of beating the tom-tom. Now when I first heard the tapping of a wireless machine I was puzzled to know how the operator could make head or tail of the messages and you no doubt would feel the same thing if you heard the beat of the "news tom-tom". You would also be astonished at our people being able to hear such long distances but you must remember that all their senses are developed to a much higher extent than in civilized countries, because they have no artificial means of assisting them. For instance, in the "bush" as we call it, by which we mean the interior or the country districts, there are no electric lights, or gas, or even lamps, and people have to depend upon their eyes to guide them not only in the daytime but at night. There is no way of warning anyone of the approach of danger except by hearing, and so as much for self-preservation as for any other reason, our people are able to distinguish between sounds that to a European or a foreigner would be identical. In the same way their sense of smell is extremely highly developed. I remember once while walking in the "bush" that a small native boy was able to tell me what kind of animal was passing by, though neither of us could see it, and as far as I was concerned the perfume of one of our large flowering trees was so overpowering that I could not distinguish any other scent.

Now that we have had this little explanation of messages I am going to continue with my particular message. The jest of it is that our people in the "bush" have heard that you call them savages, a word which they translate as meaning the people who have no sense. This hurts them because as one of our sayings is "the lion hath one mind, the eagle another", by which they mean it is possible to do things in more than one way,—it is therefore unfair to call a person who does a thing well, but in a different way from you, a savage. But you will ask, what things do they do well? We have only heard and seen that they do crude things coming from the "bush". That reminds me of a question that a little boy asked me. "How was it possible to keep order if there were no policemen among our people?" The answer is that there is no necessity, for the reason that native life is so organized that under the "Paramount Chief" there are many lesser chiefs and under these lesser chiefs are many head men. The head men are responsible for the law and order among the few families which they represent.

[illustration - Students at Freetown, Sierra Leone]


The lesser chiefs are responsible for the head men and answerable to the Paramount Chief.

Then what about schools? There are institutions of learning but not in a way that you understand. There are no school-books nor are reading and writing taught, but there is instruction in things that boys and girls will need to know when they are grown up, and can take positions of responsibility in the native village. There are two separate institutions, one for the boys and one for the girls, and I am going to tell you about the girls as I know more about them, because girls are not allowed in the boys' school and vice versa. In some tribes when a girl is eight, and in others when she is ten or twelve, she is taken away to what is known as the Gri-Gri or Bundu Bush. This will be a clearing in the forest away from the village where a few older women instruct the girls in all the useful arts of life as understood by those people. The girls will be taught how to plait mats, make baskets and spin the cotton into thread and dye it. They are also taught cooking and the general management of children, and the simple preparations that the natives have for the care of the sick, besides all the practices, dances, etc., connected with the native worship. Now this is the reason that so many missionaries have condemned the Bundu Bush.

The boys in their school are taught how to make the weapons that they will need in hunting, to weave cloths, and in fact all the manly occupations. They are also taught the religious ceremonies in which men take part, and some of them have special training to become witch doctors or medicine men, or priests, just as a boy here would have extra training if he wished to take up a profession.

These people I am telling you about are people who have not come into contact with any outside influence, and I should dearly love for you to see some of the exquisite craftwork produced by them. The beauty and delicacy of some of their designs fill travellers with amazement. I have a gold bracelet made by a man who could not read or write or even speak English and used the most crude tools, which is as fine a piece of craftsmanship as I have seen anywhere in Europe or in America. Then there is the weaving, its wonderful blend of colors, the carving in wood and ivory, the beaten brass work and all the various types of leather work. A native takes any old discarded bottle or tin and covers it with leather in such a way as to make a thing of beauty of it. The leather is nearly always dyed a beautiful shade of red. Green and yellow are also used, and the grass is braided into this leather in the most complicated and geometrical designs. I only wish that I could show you some of these things. Description so often conveys little or nothing of the real beauty of the object described. When one actually sees and handles a thing one forms an entirely different conception of the type of mind behind the fingers which have done the work. So many people have said, especially of the gold work, the ivory carving and the leather work, that they would not have believed it possible for any people to have done such work by hand, and with the crude tools at the disposal of these natives.

Now I must hurry on, not because my message is finished but because my space is limited. My people would never forgive me if I did not tell you just a little about the way they think and express themselves in their own language. On the first night that I arrived in the Mende country in the interior of Sierra Leone, there was a tremendous amount of noise and excitement going on in the village. I asked one of our boys what this meant and he replied in English "Yawa mammy done answer yes", which meant that Yawa, was the bride and the cause of all the rejoicing in the village was because the bride's mother had given her consent. I think an explanation of what led up to this will give you a better idea of how our people think and express themselves than anything else that I could tell you in this limited space.

When a young man falls in love with a girl he does not just go up to her and say, "Will you marry me my dear?" Oh, no, it is a much more complicated affair than that. First he tells all his family and if they approve of his choice, all of them, mother, father, brothers, sisters, cousins, all the relations, come in a troop to the hut where the girl lives. Now the people inside know quite well what these others have come for, but they pretend that they do not. They Pretend that they are robbers, and during the war they used to pretend that they were Germans, and refuse to allow them to come in. This is the occasion for a great deal of fun and mirth. Finally the door is opened and the whole troop comes in. The spokesman is generally the oldest man on the bridegroom's side
and this is how he speaks to the father of the girl:

"I have seen a rose, I have smelt its perfume; its fragrance fills my soul and I feel I cannot live without that rose."

Then the father of the girl replies: "That rose has been planted in our garden, it has been tended, watered and taken care of. How do I know that it will not die if I allow it to be transplanted?"

Then the spokesman begins again: "I have seen a bird, I have heard its exquisite song, I have watched its beautiful plumage; its song so fills my life that I feel that I cannot live without it."

The father of the girl answers: "That bird has been brought up in our nest, it has been sheltered and protected under its mother's wing. How do I know that it will not die if I allow it to fly out into the cold, cruel world?" And so they go on speaking to each other in this beautiful metaphor, using first one figure and then another until they arrive at some understanding, but even then that marriage is not going to take place unless the bride's mother gives her consent.

I want you to realize that these people are living in mud huts, do not wear very much in the way of clothing and cannot read or write or speak English, but this is how they think and when people think like this we feel that no one has a right to call them savages.

There are many more things about the native life that my people would like you to know. I have only delivered one half of my message but I hope before I say good-bye to your country that I shall have an opportunity to tell you some more about the manners and customs of our people and I hope that none of you will use that word "savage" again.


Come On In!

Come on in, the water's fine,
Put away your fishing line,
Hang your pants up to mine—
Come on in!
Lead on up the creek a mile;
We will swim in a single file,
Then play ducking for a while—
Come on in!
After ducking we'll play boat—
'Cause we all know how to float—
Skinny Boyd, get off my coat!
An' come on in!
Off the pier's the place to dive,
The water there is eight feet five,—
Goodness! Gracious! Man alive!—
Come on in!

Little People of the Month

THE little readers of THE BROWNIES' BOOK will be interested to hear something of the work that these little folks in the pictures are doing to help make life brighter for others.

These children are so closely connected with a worthy charity in New York City that I will first have to tell you something about it.

Hope Day Nursery is located at 33 West 133rd Street in the very heart of Harlem. The object of the Nursery is to lessen the burden of the working mother by caring for her babies and small children while she is away from home during the day.

The mothers bring the children to the


Nursery every morning on their way to work and call them upon their return in the evening. The children are cared for during the day by the matron and Nursery-helpers. They received two meals a day and the Nursery proper are rows of little white cribs where the smaller children take an afternoon nap. Games, story-telling and other recreation are provided for the small children while those of school age attend the public schools returning to the Nursery after each session.

Hope Day Nursery, established nearly twenty years ago, is controlled by board of thirty-five active members composed entirely of colored women, and is supported all together by the voluntary efforts of its Board of Managers, friends and well wishers. The annual reports of the Nursery show that during nineteen years the children cared for aggregate more than 150,000.

The very small fee that the mothers pay for the care of their children is not sufficient to buy even the milk that the babies must have. For this reason strenuous efforts have to be made by the Board of Managers in order to maintain the Nursery.

For many years now it has been custom of the Nursery to give an entertainment at one of the large amusement halls in New York City in May for the purpose of raising money to carry on this work. During all these many years the most talented children of the city have gladly given their services at this annual May Entertainment. Some of the children on this year's progam given on Manhattan Casino Friday, May 6, before an audience of several thousand people, are the children of parents who themselves as children volunteered their talents in rendering programs for Hope Day Nursery. Now these same parents are still contributing toward the up-keep of the Nursery by permitting their little ones to continue this splendid work.

Many of these little folks, some of whose photos accompany this article, gave evidence of such genuine talent that the grown-ups who ought to know went away that Friday night with a feeling that the race need not fear for the representation when our present public artists pass from view.

In this year's performance, as in several years past, more than one hundred children
took part. These children are the pupils of Miss Amanda Kemp's dancing class and are known on the stage as "Miss Kemp's Dancing Dolls". Miss Kemp is one of New York City's public school teachers and is as successful, as her programs show, with her dancing-class as she is in the school-room.

The ages of the children range from three to sixteen years of age. A group of the tiniest tots danced wonderfully well, classic dances of ancient Greece. there were any number of larger girls whose Spanish, Gypsy and Hawaiian dances brought the audience to their feet in wild cheering and applause. These little children, rendered with the ease and comfortable confidence of stage stars, the latest songs and dances of the day.

The concluding number this year was a minstrel— a real kiddies minstrel, with end-men who kept the audience roaring with laughter. Not only was this minstrel funny, but it was tuneful and full of life. Each of the little tots entered into the fun of this as much as did the audience, and when it came to their turn to dance and sing, as they do in real grown-up minstrels, it was done with such a charm of grace and manner that the audience warmed up to them in such a manner as I have never seen in any theatre or music hall.

Thelma Whitaker and Dorothy Embry, two high school girls, are really wonderful, and both of them have been faithful to Hope Day Nursery's programs ever since they were little girls. Thelma's specialty is toe-dancing, and she is an artist at this, while Dorothy is especially gifted in handling popular songs and dances. This year both girls danced the Garotte together in a most pleasing manner.

Gwendolyn Sturgis and little Anges Newton are two other favorites that are always expected to give a Hope Day Nursery audience a thrill. Gwendolyn's dance, "Winter" and Agnes' "Butterfly dance" were very dainty and pretty.

Tiny Thelma Wilkins in the "Scarf Dance" made one think of a little fairy.

Goldie Withington, another little mite was a special feature in the "Dancing Dolls' Minstrel", as was also Caroline McLoughlin. Little Margaret Smith was not able to take part in this year's program due to a temporary residence out of the city, but her work of previous
years entitles her to a place among the "Dancing Dolls".

I wish there were space to tell you about, and to show you the pictures of each and every girl who made our program such a success this year, for they too deserve mention.

The only boy on the program was little four year old Montague Gray, who danced "Little Pierrot" and enjoyed his number fully as much as the audience.

Bernice Thomas, who led the "Tambourine Dance", has been on of the stars on Hope Day Nursery's program for several seasons. Pheon Hood, Eunice Shreeves, Ellen Meadows, Marie Mahood, Virginia Brannon, Elain Bayne, and Myrtle Withington (Goldies's sister), are others who never fail to please the audience.

Hope Day Nursery's annual May Entertainment can always be assured of success as long as the "Dancing Dolls" continue to help us. People come from far and near to see and hear them. This year one of Hope Day's Nursery's well-wishers came from Michigan just to see our annual May Program.

SUSAN PAYTON WORTHAM, Chairman of Hope Day Nursery Annual May Entertainment Committee



A Play in One Act

  • Characters
  • Aunt Malinda
  • The Rent Man
  • Grace
  • Julia
  • Ethel
  • Joe
  • Robert
Aunt Malinda's kitchen is a neat little room, as clean as a pin and as fresh as the morning breezes. In the center of the rear wall is a door which leads to the cupboard and at the left against the same wall is a table without a cover, but so clean from constant scrubbing that it is almost white. In the right wall is a window and near the left wall a stove. There are a couple of straight chairs bear the table and in the center of the room a low rocking chair without arms. This is Aunt Malinda's favorite seat. When we first see the room there is no one present, but after a few moments the door is pushed slowly open and Grace, a girl of ten, peeps in. Not seeing anyone she comes in on tiptoes, and looks all around. She has a paper bag in her hand.

(Puzzled)—I wonder where Aunt Malinda is?

(She goes back to the door and beckons to someone outside. Presently Julia, Ethel and Joe appear, each carrying a bag similar to Grace's)

—Where's Aunt Malinda?


—I don't know where she is, she isn't here.


— I'll go to the house and see if she is there.

(She goes out again)
(to Ethel and Joe)

— I brought Aunt Malinda apples; what did you bring?


— I brought her oranges.


— I brought her peaches


— If Robert's coming I wonder what he'll bring?


— Roberts so stingy he may not come at all.


— He couldn't be as mean as that, as good as Aunt Malinda has been to us.


— (Entering again)— I didn't see her.


—It's strange that she is out. Before her son died we always found her home.


—Aunt Malinda s worried.


—What did you bring her, Julia?


—I brought her grapes.

(after looking out of the door)

— Here's Robert now.

(Robert enters with a bag which is much smaller than those the others have.)

—My, what a small bag! What did you bring Aunt Malinda, Robert?


— I brought her bananas.


—Your bag is very small.

(Feeling the bag)

—You have but two bananas!

(Looking at him angrily)

— That's


enough with what you will have brought. To many bananas will make a person sick! I wouldn't like to see Aunt Malinda sick.


— You wouldn't like to spend too many pennies!

(To Joe)

— Let him alone.


— Robert's a miser, Grace.


— Aunt Malinda is very unhappy since her son died.


— She can't help it with no one to support her.


— I wonder if she has nay cakes today?


— Let's look.


— No, you mustn't look into other people's things without permission.


— She always has cakes.


— She may not have any now since her son died.


— I wonder how she will live?


— We'll wait and ask her that when she comes in.


— If we find that he has no other means of living we'll have to help her.


— How can we help her?


— We all have banks in which we save our pennies.

(Peeping out of the door)

— Here comes Aunt Malinda now.

(They all stand with their bags behind them. Aunt Malinda, an old woman in black, enters.)
Aunt Malinda

— Good morning my children.


— Good morning, Aunt Malinda

Aunt Malinda
(As she sits in her rocker)

— Have you anything good to tell me this bright morning?


— We're very happy to see that you're not sad.

Aunt Malinda

— Why do you hold your hands behind you so?

(Taking their bags from behind them)

— We have something for you.

Aunt Malinda
(As she takes all the bags in her lap)

—Oh, how nice of you!


—Any cakes?

Aunt Malinda

—Look in the cupboard, Joe. (Joe opens the cupboard and looks in.)


—Only one?

Aunt Malinda

—That's all ; and that's for the one of you who hasn't committed a fault since I saw you last.

(Their faces fall with disappointment.)

I see you've all done something wrong. Not one deserves it.


—We wouldn't take your last cake, Aunt Malinda.

Aunt Malinda

—Has any one of you been very bad?


—I haven't.

Aunt Malinda

—Then take the cake and divide it into five parts.


—That wouldn't be one bite for each of us; we couldn't be so greedy.

Aunt Malinda

—Well, leave it then until another time.


—Won't you tell us a story?

Aunt Malinda

—No story today. I have sad news for you.


—Sad news!


—Your son just died a week or two ago. I hope nothing else has happened.

Aunt Malinda

—Something else is going to happen today.


—What can it be?

Aunt Malinda

—The owner is going to send the Rent Man for the rent and he says he'll put me out if I cannot pay.


—Put you out in the street?

Aunt Malinda

—If I do not pay the rent.


—Where will you go?

Aunt Malinda

—I do not know—to the poorhouse I suppose.


—They couldn't be so mean!


—For a few dollars, send you to the poorhouse!

Aunt Malinda

—Some people will do anything for a few dollars.


—I wouldn't do a mean thing to anybody for anything in the world.

Aunt Malinda

—If you remember that and stand by it you'll be a noble man.


—Do people do mean things to other people for money?

Aunt Malinda

—One way or the other. Most of the big mean things in the world are done for money.


—Why is the world like that?

Aunt Malinda

—Because men of greed impose on other men.


—I thought the world was beautiful and good.

Aunt Malinda

—It is in many places.


—To work all day for money is bad enough, but to do mean things—one should not do mean things.

Aunt Malinda

—That's right; and now I want a promise from you all. Raise your hands. (All raise their hands.) There are greater things than money. I want you all to promise to strive for greater things.


—What greater things?

Aunt Malinda

—There are power and fame and love and happiness all greater than money.


—We promise.

(There is a loud knocking on the door. The children are silent.)
Aunt Malinda

—That's the Rent Man. Come in (The door is pushed slowly open and the Rent Man enters.)

The Rent Man

—I've come to collect the rent.

Aunt Malinda

—And if I cannot pay?

The Rent Man

—Then I have orders to tell you must move.


—Would you make a poor woman move to the street?

The Rent Man

—Those are my orders.


—Your orders from whom?

The Rent Man

—From those above me.


—Then it's not your fault?

The Rent Man

—I must do as I am told.


—I wouldn't work for anyone so mean.

The Rent Man

—One has to work, and beggars cannot be choosers.


—Who are the people who give you such orders?

The Rent Man

—They are the owners; rich, powerful people.


—I thought rich people gave to the poor, I didn't know they took poor people's money.

The Rent Man

—They send such men as I am to take poor people's money, then they themselves give part of it back to the poor and brag about it—call it charity.


—If I were you I wouldn't do it for them. The Rent Man—One must work, and beggars connote be choosers.

Aunt Malinda

—So I must go.

The Rent Man

—I see no other way.


—How much does Aunt Malinda owe for rent?

The Rent Man

—Twenty dollars now.

(To the others)

—Let's open our banks and see if we can make it.

The Others
(Except Robert)

—All right, we will.


—Will you wait for us, Mr. Rent Man?

The Rent Man

—Yes, I'll wait.

(All start out, save Robert.)
(Noticing Robert's hesitation)

—Aren't you going, Robert?


—No use for all to go ; you'll have a plenty.

(Fulling him by the arm)

—Come on, don't be so stingy!

(They go out.)
The Rent Man

—How far do they live? HOW long will they be gone?

Aunt Malinda

—They only live a step or two away. It won't take them many minutes.

The Rent Man

—They seem to be big-hearted children.

Aunt Malinda

—They are big-hearted. All children would be big-hearted if they were not bred in narrowness and spite. Most children are not taught to rise and pull each other up. They are taught that they must rise even if they have to step upon each other.

(Grace, Julia and Ethel return with their banks and keys.)
(Opening her bank)

—I bought a birthday present for my big brother last month, Aunt Malinda, so I haven't much; but you are welcome to what I have. (She gives the money to the Rent Man.)

(Opening her bank)

—I gave a beggar two dollars the other day, so I haven't as much as I wish I had, Aunt Malinda.

(She gives the money to the Rent Man.)
(Opening her bank)

—I started to buy myself a pair of shoes the other day, but I'm glad I didn't. If I had bought them I wouldn't have this to give you, Aunt Malinda.

(She gives it to the Rent Man who is busily counting the money when Joe enters.)
(Opening his bank)

—I emptied my bank to buy some baseball things in the spring, so I haven't as much as I wish I had to give you, Aunt Malinda.

(He gives it to the Rent Man.)
Aunt Malinda

—You children are too good. I'm proud of you.

The Rent Man
(Having finished counting)

— You need one dollar more.

(To Joe)

—Where's Robert?


—He said he was coming back.


—If he comes we'll have it.


Robert is such a miser he may not come.

Aunt Malinda

—Robert is stingy; so if he comes and brings the other dollar, we'll have to give him the last cake.

(In opposition)

—Give him the last cake


when all of us gave more willingly than he will give?

Aunt Malinda

—It will be harder for him to give than it was for you. Well give him the last cake as his reward then he will see how good it is to give.

(Robert enters with his bank.)

—Robert, we need one dollar more to make it.

(Opening his bank)

—I'll give the dollar.

(He gives the dollar to the Rent Man.)
The Rent Man
(To Aunt Malinda)

—I'm sorry to take the children's savings, but I must do as I'm told.


—We see you are kind hearted.

Aunt Malinda

—Now, Robert, get the cake out of the cupboard. That's your reward. (Robert goes to the cupboard and takes the cake out while the others watch him.)

Aunt Malinda

—It's yours. Eat it if you want to.

(When Robert raises the cake to his mouth to bite it, he notices that all the others are watching him in silence, so lets his hand fall.)

—Why do you give it all to me, Aunt Malinda?

Aunt Malinda

—That's your reward for giving.


—The others all gave more than I did.

Aunt Malinda

—What you gave made the full amount. If you hadn't given what was needed to make the full amount, what the others gave wouldn't have done any good.


—I won't take all the cake, that would be too selfish.


—You used to take all of everything you could get.


—But this is different. I won't take it all, Aunt Malinda; I won't be that selfish.

Aunt Malinda

—You want the others to have some?



Aunt Malinda

—Then break the cake into five pieces and give each one a piece. (Robert breaks the cake and divides it among the others.)

The Rent Man

—Good day, Lady, I hope I'll never have to trouble you again.

Aunt Malinda

—Good day. (He closes the door.)


—I have a plan.


—What kind of plan?


—Let's save our pennies and at the end of each month bring them all to Aunt Malinda to pay her rent.

(To the surprise of all)

—Yes, let's do that. We couldn't spend our money any better. I don't think I'll be so selfish any more.

The Others

—We'll do it.

Aunt Malinda
(In protest)

—But children— (Grace puts one hand around Aunt Malinda's neck and a finger to her lips.)


—Don't tell us not to do it, Aunt Malinda.

(Aunt Malinda, seeing that objections are useless, holds out her arms and all the children rush to her.)

Baby Bluebird

A BABY Bluebird, in a tree,
Said, "How much longer will it be
That I
Must fly
From twig to twig, and round about,
Now that my wings have feathered out?
"I want to fly down to the ground
Where all the lovely worms are found,
And hop,
And stop
To tease the little crawly things,
And stretch my jaunty, shining wings!"
Just then a Hawk swooped down so near,
That Baby Bluebird shook with fear!
Cried he,
"To me
That proves, dear Mother, you were right
To keep me up here out of sight!"



WE would like very much to have you visit us on Emancipation Day. I am sure we have ours a little different from the way you all have yours in the North. We all "turn out" in large numbers and have a big barbecue dinner and the women prepare large baskets of good things to eat such as chickens, cakes, pies and many other delicious things. We have games for the out-doors sports such as base- ball, lawn-tennis and golf ball, and you can spend your time on the one you are interested in most.

We are also going out in cars on the drive ways; my car will be leading and while on the way we will lunch under the shade of the large oak trees.

We are going to have a dance on the same night, and if you like to dance you 'can have your dancing capacity filled. Also the community building will be open to every one ; there you will find a beautiful ladies' rest room with all kinds of good books to read and a few society games, also a library and a public reading room. Here you will find literature of all kinds to suit your taste.

One day I stopped and gave a horse an apple and this is the story he told me.)

I WAS born in the west and brought up 1 among many other horses on a ranch. I would frolic from morn until night in the large pasture. Life went on smoothly until the time that I was to be broken in.

One day some of the cowboys came and took me out of the pasture and put a bit and bridle on me. I did not like it at all and began to kick, but one of them jumped upon my back. I threw him off into the dust and made a break for freedom. I ran across the prairies as fast as I could go. Some of the men came after me with other horses, but I left them far behind and soon found myself out on the open prairie.

After a while I stopped and looked around. Far in the distance a coyote howled, and save for that there was no other sound. My legs were tired and sore but after taking a few mouthfuls of grass I continued on my way. The ground became more hilly as I went on, and here and there a cactus plant was to be seen. I had become very thirsty and you can imagine my joy on finding bubbling from the side of a small hill a spring of clear, cool water. This was indeed a delightful place, so I spent the night here.

When I awoke the next morning I was surprised to see a group of horses coming toward me. This was my first sight of the wild horses that I came to know very well. They had coins to the spring to drink and feed off the tender grass which grew around it. I joined this band of horses and the whole summer we roamed the prairies, grazing and drinking from springs and babbling brooks.

One morning early in the autumn, some of the horses seemed excited and began to lift their heads and sniff the air. I soon saw what was the matter, however, for some men came riding around so as to head us off. We started another way, but were met by more riders. Every way we started we were met and driven back. The horses were now panic-stricken and galloped around until they were tired and then the cowboys closed in on us. A lasso was thrown over my head and I was pulled to the ground struggling. Several others were captured.

I was taken to the same ranch from which I escaped and was readily recognized by the men. That night I was put in a stable and the next day broken in. This was the end of my adventures as a runaway horse and although I won honors as a race horse, I never look back to pleasanter days than those of my adventures with the wild horses of the plains.






HE players pick sides and form into two parallel lines facing each other. One of the lines dances with joined hands towards the other line singing:

"Here we come gathering nuts and hay, nuts
and hay, nuts and hay Here we come gathering nuts and hay, on a
cold and frosty morning."

When they sing the second line they dance back to their places.

Then the other line dances forward and then backwards singing:

"Whom will you have to take her away, take her
away, take her away,
Whom will you have to take her away,
on a cold and frosty morning."

The first line then sings:

"We'll have little Ruth Anna to take her away,
take her away, take her away,
We'll have little Ruth Anna to take her away,
on a cold and frosty morning."

The two people who have been chosen from the two different lines, advance. A handkerchief is placed on the floor between them. They place one foot at the edge of it 'and at a given signal join hands and pull. The one who succeeds in pulling the other over to his side wins the game. This goes on until one side has nearly all the children of the other side on its side. Note-1. American children will find the tune of "Here we go round the mulberry bush" suited to these words.

2. Any name may be used in the place of Ruth Anna.



THIS game is for very young children. They join in a ring and dance around to the following words :

"Ring a ring of roses
A pocket full of posies,
Tishoo, tishoo, we all fall down!"

At the end they all fall down.



APART of the ground on which the children are playing is marked off as Tom Tiddler's ground. One of them is chosen to be Tom Tiddler and he is placed in the middle of his ground. The other children keep dashing over, and onto his ground shouting "I'm on Tom Tiddler's ground." He chases them ; when he catches one it is that child's turn to be Tom Tiddler.



THIS is on the same lines as hide and seek ; except that it is reversed. Two players go away and hide. After a while all the rest set off in a body to look for them. When one, by chance, finds them, he does not shout out joyfully "I've found them", but puts the others off the scent and goes back and joins the hiders. This goes on until there is only one searching. Then the game is begun afresh. It must be played absolutely in the dark.



THIS game must be played in an absolutely dark room with only one door. A ghost is chosen among the players. He goes out of the room leaving the door ajar, whilst the other players hide themselves in various corners of the room, or lie flat on the floor. Presently, when everything is quiet the ghost must enter the room, but so quietly that the others do not know. When they do know, because he will probably stumble, they try to escape from the room. The last person to be caught is the next ghost.



A True Story

LONG years ago, Peter the Great bought a young black lad who, historians say, was an African prince. Abraham Hannibal (for so he was called) was brought to the Russian court. He was quite a favorite with Peter the Great who gave him a splendid education and placed him in a government office where he rose to the position of general. Hannibal's granddaughter was the mother of Alexander Pushkin, who stands as the creator of Russia's national literature.

Pushkin was born at Moscow in 1799. His family was wealthy, lived for pleasure, played havoc with their estates, and troubled themselves little about rearing their children. From his father he inherited his love for frivolity and dissipation.

His early years were spent in Tsarkoye Telo, a village near the capital and the home of the last Czar of Russia and his family. Here he attempted drama, verse and fable in imitation of French classics. He received his early training from foreign tutors who taught him the French language, everything in fact French. Rodionovna, his Russian nurse, gave him his store of Russian fairy stories and Russian legends. There was a warm and lasting friendship between Pushkin and this fine woman. At the height of his popularity he often slipped away from the gay capital to spend a few quiet days with the "darling of his youth".

Alexander Pushkin was not a prodigy in learning, not even a good student. He had no special aptitude for , learning except for French, but in his teens he suddenly developed a passion for reading. He was left alone in his father's library which was exclusively French. Voltaire, Moliere and La Fontaine were his favorites. This sort of reading is not to be recommended for most children, but it gave this one a mastery of French. In fact his school-fellows called him "Frenchman" and made fun of his bad Russian.

Like other boys of rich parentage, he was sent to the Lyceum for six years. Here he began to write poetry, first in French and then in Russian. When he was fifteen years old, some of these poems were printed. During one of the school affairs to which celebrities were invited, Pushkin declaimed one of his own works. Derghávin, one of the foremost liter. literary critics of the day, was so pleased he publicly blessed the boy.

After leaving the Lyceum, he entered a foreign office. At this time he joined a literary club formed for the purpose of freeing the literature of the country from the trammels of artificiality. There was no Russian literature. The nobles were ashamed of their language and their civilization. They imitated and affected things French. But Pushkin's first poem showed nationalism and realism. It was not any. thing extraordinary and did not call for the extreme praise or condemnation which it received. But official Russia felt that "the hour had struck".

Pushkin's association with a group of young political liberals was reflected in his poetry. When the officials frowned on his writings, dreading that his youthful enthusiasm for the time "when Russia shall arise from her sleep and on the ruins of Autocracy shall inscribe our names" might be dangerous, he retorted with a number of striking epigrams on the vice of the imperial court. This called forth an order for his banishment.

Only the power of influential friends saved him from a life of imprisonment in a monastery. He was banished to, southern Russia when he was twenty. He loved the gay society of the capital but the change was good for him. He became acquainted with General Raevsky while in the South, and came to know and admire Byron, who was ardently talked of by the general's family. Some of his works are quite in the Briton's style. He made use of this exile to make the customs and scenery of the Caucasus better known to the rest of Russia. His descriptions are as real as photographs:

"Eternal thrones of snow
Whose lofty summits gleam to gaze
Like one unbroken, motionless chain of clouds,
And in their midst the 1031 peaked colossus
Glittering in the glowing crown of ice,
The giant monarch of mountains, Elbruss,
Whitens up into the blue depths of heaven."


He roamed about the Crimea and learned here many a legend, in the palace of the old Khans, from which he afterwards developed poetical gems.

He also wandered about with the gypsies and wrote his "Gypsies" based on direct observation.

After four years of exile he was permitted to return home. During that time, however, the simplicity and sincerity of the peasant life had intensified his patriotism. He studied Russian history and the habits and traditions of the people.

Pushkin was the first Russian to use national types in literature. His characters are truly Muscovite and the dominant note of his work is nationality.

In "onyegin" we have a definite type of Russian society. The hero has every advantage, is blasé, weary of life and has nothing to do except amuse himself-absolutely purposeless- a typical Russian aristocrat. On the other hand, there is Lensky, educated away from the turmoil of society. He knows the short-comings of Russia but is unable to make his influence felt and he displays the hopeless attitude toward social conditions, so characteristic of Russians.

In 1831 Pushkin married Natalia Gonscharoff, a young woman of fine family. He received an appointments s Historiographer of Peter the Great. He was favored by the Czar and idolized by the people. Everything seemed to point to a long happy life ahead. But the court nobles were jealous and treated him and his wife with disdain at state balls and social functions. His means were not sufficient either to meet the strain of court life. Finally, a notorious libertine, Baron Dantes, circulated some scandal about Pushkin's wife. Dantes proved to be the sole author and publisher of the vile stories. Although Pushkin never credited the tales, in accordance with the custom of the time he had to challenge Dantes by an appeal to arms to vindicate his wife's honor. On the banks of the Black River in 1837, he was fatally wounded. For two day, he lingered in agonizing pain, the center of one of the most dramatic scenes in history. The Czar regarded his death as a personal loss and the whole nation was moved. Dantes had to flee the country. Pushkin had to be buried by stealth lest public indignation cause riot and bloodshed. Czar Nicholas took his wife and children under his protection, paid his debts of £15,000 and ordered a complete edition of his works.

His career closed before he reached his height and in his own words:

"Happy be the man who early quits
The feast of life, not caring to drain
the sparking goblet, filled with wine.
Happy the man who dares not wait
To read the final page of life's romance.

But suddenly bids the world adieu."

Because of his early association with liberals, his intimacy with the Czar after his return from exile, caused some to brand him as a traitor to his previous declarations for freedom. The grace and good will of the emperor and the outward splendor of Russia dazzled him. the last ten years were unhappy ones. Only a few lauded his literacy works. The public turned away from the one time supporter of the Revolution, who was now a supporter of Autocracy. In the forties Believing pointed out the beauties of his worlds. But not until 1881 at the unveiling of the Moscow Memorial to the poet was he accepted unanimously, though Dostoievsky had admired the "world genius."

His poetry is the revelation of a soul. His works are unfinished but have a magic rhythm. In translation they lose much of the fine emotional shadings and musical rhythm. they are heard best by "Neva's Frozen Shores".

Pushkin is the national poet of Russia. He put life into the old Russian legends. his ease in verse, richness of language, pictures and fancies stand out against the old, arid Russian style. He is no dramatist or historian. He is a lyric poet, the echo of Russia, a genuine artist.



THERE is nothing sweeter than rain. I fly through clinging, shimmering diamonds, amid fleecy greys and duns and purples. Soft mists fall and enwrap me and I kiss the rain and am glad.

  • For some time the American government has been trying to get rid of certain persons whom it thinks it does not want by sending them to Russia. The Russian government has asked that this be stopped.
  • England and Russia have arranged an understanding by which they are to trade with each other. Other understandings with various European countries will doubtless follow. The United States still stands aloof.
  • Out in the Pacific Ocean there is a little island called Yap which consists of a number of rocks and a few human beings. It happens, however, to be so situated as to be a very convenient place for landing the little bundles of wires which lie along the beds of the ocean and over which we telegraph news around the world. The treaty of Versailles gave Yap to the control of the Japanese. The United States does not like this and is making protest.
  • Canada, although a part of the British Empire, is going to send its own Minister to represent it at the capital of the United States.
  • Another step has been taken toward making peace in the world. The Germans did not think that they could pay the immense sums demanded by the treaty of Versailles. Their proposals, however, were very unsatisfactory. After considerable debate France, England and the other Allies determined to send their armies and take charge of the chief coal and industrial regions of western Germany. Just before the armies were ready to march Germany assented to the proposals of the Allies and promised to pay an indemnity of thirty-four thousand million dollars in installments.
  • A great strike of coal miners is taking place in England. The miners believe that the government ought to take charge of the mines instead of having them owned by private persons. The government had charge during the war and about a month or so ago started to return them to private owners. The private owners immediately planned to reduce wages and the miners struck. Other working men on the railroads and in various industries voted to strike in sympathy. pathy. The Prime Minister seemed to be helpless, but a Committee of Parliament secured some concession from the miners' Secretary. To these concessions the miners refused to assent but the other laborers postponed their strike. The miners are still striking and the other laborers may eventually join them.
  • Last year Great Britain, who owes large sums to the United States, paid three hundred, seventy-five million dollars on her indebtedness.
  • In Italy there is almost a civil war between the so-called Fascist, or extreme Nationalists, and the Socialists and other radicals. The Fascist especially have been murdering and harrying the radicals.
  • Since King Charles made his spectacular visit to Austria and sought to regain his throne, the Austrians have passed a law making the presence of a former King in Austria a felony punishable by imprisonment.
  • The Polish Diet has voted to ratify the treaty of peace between Poland, Russia and the Ukraine.
  • Poland is again at war. The Peace Treaty ordered that a vote be taken in Silesia, the industrial and mining region of eastern Germany which formerly belonged to Poland, to determine whether the inhabitants wished to be Germans or Poles. Most of the inhabitants seemed to vote in favor of Germany, but some particular districts had a Polish majority. The question is how shall this be interpreted and want parts of Upper Silesia shall go to Poland and Germany.
  • Poland is already disgruntled because she did not receive complete control of her only seaport, Danzig, and also because the Allies did not support her very energetically in her attempt to conquer parts of Russia. She has therefore allowed certain Polish insurgents to rush in and take possession of certain parts of Upper Silesia.

  • The American Minister to Cuba has decided that at the last November election in Cuba Dr. Alfredo Zayas, the Coalition Party candidate, was elected President. As a matter of fact the Liberals either actually cast more votes or at least had more votes to cast.
  • Turks and Greeks are still fighting in. Asia Minor. The Greeks are angry because the Allies will not support them and the Turks are fighting for their country.
  • Dr. Sun Yat Sen, first Provincial President of China after the Empire, is reported to have been elected President of the Chinese Republic. He was formerly a resident in America and has made great sacrifices for China.
  • Great Britain and Japan, before and during the war, had a treaty of alliance which pledged them to help each other in case either was attacked. This treaty expired recently and negotiations are being made to renew it. One difficulty is that while England wants Japan's help, certain parts of the British empire, like Australia, hate and fear the Japanese.
  • Moreover with Russia impotent and Germany conquered there is no one Great Britain and Japan have to fear except the United States. This makes the question of disarmament the greatest question before the United States and the world. We are building a bigger and costlier navy than any other country. We are spending 92 per cent of the income of the National Government on past, present and future wars. This is ridiculous. Why not let all the great powers come together and agree to reduce their armaments? This is what Senator Borah is proposing in Congress, but President Harding hesitates.

Terrible is sunshine out of the endless steel blue sky. I am afraid of sunshine for it glitters hard and sends its sharp shafts against my bright eyes. If all were sunshine and there were no rain I could not fly and caw. I should droop and weep.

  • The Senate has ratified the treaty giving twenty-five million dollars to Colombia. We stole some land from Colombia in order to dig the Panama Canal. Since then we have refused to either apologize or to pay for the land. The present treaty omits the apology but pays up.
  • A bill to restrict immigration to the United States so that people can come here only in proportion as their nationality is already presented here, will probably become law.
  • Remember that legally we are still at war with Germany and we seem unable to get peace. The Senate has passed the Knox resolution declaring a state of peace, but the House is waiting because President Harding has got to make up his mind on what conditions we are going to accept peace with Germany. We have refused to accept the conditions laid down in the treaty of Versailles; yet, notwithstanding that, the government has decided to allow the United States to be "unofficially" represented on the three executive boards established by that treaty, namely, the Supreme Council, the Council of Ambassadors and the Reparations Committee.
  • After four years of suspension the Post Office Department has consented to send letters to Russia and receive them from that country.
  • The railroads are trying to reduce the wages of their employees claiming that they cannot afford to pay such wages. The employees, on the other hand, claim that by bad management the railroads waste a thousand million dollars every year.
  • John J. Pershing, the highest ranking officer in the United States Army, is going to be appointed the head of the General Staff which has headquarters in Washington.
  • Sailors and other marine workers to the number of a hundred thousand are on strike in the United States against a proposed reduction of their wages.
  • The Secretary of the Treasury of the United States reports that the Great Britain owes the United States $277,000,000.
  • Governor Dorsey, of Georgia, has asked for an inquiry into conditions of peonage in Georgia. A great many colored workers are virtually enslaved in that State.
  • Frank white of North Dakota, has been nominated as Treasurer of the United States.
  • A statue of General Simon Bolivar, liberator of the five South American republics, has been unveiled in New York. When Bolivar was a fugitive and in danger of his life he found refuge and help in Haiti.
  • Myron T. Herrick has been appointed Ambassador to France.
  • In Chicago children under 16 cannot be on the streets after ten o'clock unless properly accompanied.



GRANNY had promised more than once to tell Cless the story of the little pig, but somehow she had forgotten all about this tale until one June evening when her little boy sauntered into the house from his usual playtime in the street. It was long after twilight when he came in, and while Granny was not disturbed, she nevertheless disliked the idea of his staying out so late.

"Mind, you little scamp," she threatened as he came in, "mind!—you know what happened to the little pig who stayed out late one night."

Now of course Cless hadn't heard what happened to the little pig, so Granny took him by the hand and led him into the living-room, where they both sat down—Granny to tell the tale and Cless to listen.

"Once 'twas a little pig," began Granny, "who lived in a nice little pen near the banks of a river in the Land of Sunshine. Now this little pig had everything he wanted except a cover over his pen. So one day when the farmer who owned him came out to give him his dinner, the little pig asked him to put a cover over his pen.

"'Oh, sure!—sure promised the farmer, 'sure the little pig can have a cover for his house.' But the farmer kept putting the little pig off this way until one night a big rain came. And all that night the water fell pitter-patter! pitter-patter! in the little pig's face.

"The next day when the farmer came out naturally the little pig asked about his shed again and he got the same old answer—'0h sure the little pig may have a shed over his pen.' Night came once more and there was no shed over the little pig's pen. So he stole out that evening by the moonlight to see if he could find something to make him one. He hadn't gone very far before he came to a big bunch of palmettos. Now palmettos are little palms that grow in the Land of Sunshine. They are shout the size of a fan and make a fine covering for a shed. So the little pig gnawed off enough of these to serve his purpose, took them back to his pen and commenced to put up his shed. He worked hard all night and the next morning when the farmer came out he was surprised to find a nice cover over the pen.

"'Who made the cover for your pen, little pig?'

"The little pig said, 'Me.'

"'Well it looks mighty nice,' said the farmer as he started back to the house. But by and by he came back as angry as a lion. Some one had been in his cornfield that night and stripped off some of the best corn in the patch.

"'Little pig,' he hollered, 'it's you—nobody but you who's been in my cornfield last night. Get out, little pig,—little pig, get out! I don't want you any more—wouldn't have you any more. Get out; get out and root for yourself the rest of your life.'

"Of course the little pig wasn't guilty but the old farmer was so very angry that he thought it best to leave. He left. Now he hadn't gone very far before he came to the same bunch of palmettos from which he had built the shed of his pen. Here again he got another load of palms and started down to the riverside to build him a house. On his way down he came upon Mister Crocodile. It was a very hot day and Mister Crocodile had crawled out of the mud and was cooling off under the shade of a big magnolia tree.

" 'Heyo, there, little pig! Where you going this hot day with a whole load of palmetto fans?' The little pig told Mister Crocodile he was looking for a place to build a house.

"'Stop a while and fan me a bit, little pig, and I'll show you a nice, cool place to build a house—right by the riverside.' Now the little pig was almost scared to death. He didn't know whether he should take a chance on fanning Mister Crocodile, or whether he should run back to the angry old farmer. He finally decided to fan Mister Crocodile. And while he was fanning him he took the time to tell him about the corn which had been stolen the night before.

"'Why it's Bre'r Bear who's been stealing that corn; didn't I see him passing by here last night with a whole arm full of green corn?' The little pig was so glad to hear this that he jumped up and squealed with delight. Now he could go back and make the old farmer understand who had been stealing all the corn.

"But Mister Crocodile begged the little pig to help him set a trap for old Bre'r Bear. The
[illustration - Both Started Out for the River]
little pig agreed. And that same night the crocodile sent him up in the cornfield to wait for old Bre'r Bear.

"'Now,' said the crocodile, 'you go up in the cornfield and wait till old Bre'r Bear comes. And when he does come you grunt like a hog and he'll take after you. Then you just run as fast as you can toward the river. I'll meet you half way up the road and I'll trip old Bre'r Bear down and break his neck.'

"Well the little pig started out, came to the field and hid himself among the corn. Now he waited and waited, but old Bre'r Bear didn't come. So presently he dropped off in a nap. And just about that time old Bre'r Bear tipped into the cornfield and commenced a-snapping and a-popping off the ears of corn. The little pig was snoring with all his might, but as soon as old Bre'r Bear got his arms full of corn the little pig commenced to dream that old Bre'r Bear was choking him to death.

" Whee ! whee! wheel' he squealed.

"'Who's that squealing like a hog?' asked Bre'r Bear.

"Of course the little pig didn't answer. He just kept right on squealing 'Wheel whee ! whee !'

"Presently old Bre'r Bear went over toward the noise and commenced fumbling 'round in the dark for the little pig. It wasn't long before he stumbled upon him. Down went old Bre'r Bear's armful of corn and up jumped the little pig. Both started out for the river. The little pig was in the lead and was running with all his might. Old Bre'r Bear, close behind him wasn't making many steps, but my, he was making such long ones! You could hear his big feet a-going vip-vop! vip-vop! And every now and then he'd get close enough to the little pig to make a swipe at him with his big, rough paw. But the little pig kept on running till he came to the place where Mister Crocodile had promised to wait for him and Bre'r Bear.

"Now what do you think? - Mister Crocodile had got tired waiting and had gone back to the river! So the little pig had to keep on down to the water. And just about the time he was almost to the river and out of breath and about to give up the race, Mister Crocodile poked his head up out of the water and hollered : 'Run, little pig!—little pig, run! Run, little pig!— run ! run! run!'

"And the little pig was certainly getting over some ground too. It was a clear moonlight night and you could see the dust a-flying up behind his heels as plain as if it were day. At last he reached the river. Ker chunk! right overboard he went. Right behind him splashed old Bre'r Bear—ker loonge! Now just as soon as Bre'r Bear struck the water Mister Crocodile hit him such a blow with his tail you could hear it go,—ker pow!—way up on the hillside.

"Bre'r Bear was no more good after this one blow. Mister Crocodile grabbed him by the neck and kept on ducking him under the water till he drank himself to death. By this time the little pig had paddled ashore and was waiting for Mister Crocodile to push old Bre'r Bear in. When he saw that old Bre'r Bear was enough dead he asked Mister Crocodile it might go home early the next morning and the farmer who had been stealing all the corn. The crocodile consented. So early the morning the little pig started home once more.

"The farmer met him at the gate with the same old cry—'Go away, little pig; go away. I don't want you any more. Wouldn't have you. Go away and root for yourself the rest of your life. Somebody's been in my cornfield again last night and it's nobody but you. It was you 'cause I saw your tracks. Go away, little pig— go away.'

But the little pig wouldn't go away, so the mean old farmer got a big stick and began to chase him away. And he chased him and chased him till he came to the river. And what did he see there but a great big bear—dead! The little pig ran right up to Bre'r Bear and stopped and looked first at the farmer and then at Bre'r Bear as much as to say : 'Here lies your corn thief!'

"The old farmer quickly saw that Bre'r Bear was guilty, for the proof was there in the corn tassels that stuck to him while he was stealing the corn. They were still clinging to his hair. At last the farmer really believed the little pig innocent. And what do you think he did to show his belief? Why he simply skinned old Bre'r Bear right there by the riverside and carried the little pig back to his pen. And by and by, when the old farmer was settled, he just stretched that nice big bear hide across the pen, and the little pig had a waterproof shed that lasted as long as he lived."