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

The Brownies' Book For August
15c a Copy




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.8 AUGUST, 1921 WHOLE No. 20


COVER. Drawing. "AUGUST SPORTS." Laura Wheeler
HERBERT AND FREDERICK. A Story. AUGUSTA BIRD. Illustrated by Nina Yolande DuBois 219
THE QUEEN HORNET. Florence Perry. 228
COME BACK TO ARIZONA. A Story. Katherine M. Durtham 227
THE LAMENT OF A VANQUISHED BEAU. A Poem. Langston Hughes 229
LAFAYETTE AND THE DARKER RACES. A True Story. Lillie Buffrum Chance Wyman. Illustrated by Marcellus Hawkins 230
PLAYTIME Games Arranged by Mrs. Patsy F. Taylor and Ivanhoe Schuemacker 233
OUR LITTLE FRIENDS. Four Pictures 234
MISS KITTY CAT. A Poem. Minnie B. Noyes 235
LULLABY. A Poem. C. Leslie Frazier 237
RETROSPECTION. Nina Yolande DuBois 238
THE Y.M.C.A ATHLETIC MEET. Illustrated. William C. Anderson, Jr. 242
MISTER SANDMAN. A Poem. Langston Hughes 244


  • RENEWALS: The date of expiration of each subscription is printed on the wrapper. When the subscription is due a yellow renewal blank is enclosed.
  • CHANGE OF ADDRESS: The address of a subscriber can be changed as often as desired. In ordering a change of address, both the old and the new address must be given. Two weeks' notice is required.
  • MANUSCRIPTS and drawings relating to colored children are desired. They must be accompanied by return postage. If found unavailable they will be returned.
  • Entered as second class matter January 20, 1920, at the Post Office at New York, N.Y., under the Act of March 2, 1879.

[illustration - Peek-a-boo!]


The Brownies' Book

Vol 2.—No. 8 AUGUST, 1921 Whole No.20


SINCE the first day that Herbert Marshall's mother carried him to the Stanley School for enrollment, the thought which was uppermost in Herbert's young mind was to emulate, or rather to imitate, young Frederick Butler. You see, Frederick Butler's father was a doctor and had just lots of money and lived up in a great house on the Terrace, with wonderful trees surrounding it and a beautiful garden of roses on the side nearest the street. Many times had Herbert passed the great house and longingly stood with his bare feet scorching in the hot sands of the village street and watched Frederick's mother, a kindly appearing woman, as she plucked a little rose bud and tenderly pinned it on Frederick's lapel. And Herbert thought how nice it must be to have such a mother and to have such a garden and as he watched Frederick descend the broad granite steps with head erect, and lightly mount his bicycle, then it had first dawned upon Herbert that Frederick lived in a different world.

Herbert lived around the corner from the great house, in the basement of the building where his father was the janitor and where his mother did the washing for all the fine ladies who lived in the apartments above. Only once had Herbert received a real thrill in his young life and that was on the morning in September when his mother had informed him that he was to enter school. In Herbert's young mind school was a place where many children played and had one continuous round of good times together and books were only taken along to keep their little hands occupied. Herbert had often seen the boys at play in the schoolyard
during recess and little did he know of the difficulties to be encountered in arithmetic or the long hours of quiet with a stern and prim schoolmistress incessantly cautioning against talking and all the other things that little boys liked to do.

When Herbert arrived at the schoolhouse that day, little did he realize the task that confronted him. After his mother had returned home he sat at his desk bewildered. He would have been all right if his heart had not thumped so loud. He was sure the boy next to him at every minute was going to turn and ask who was that pounding on an empty keg with a sledge hammer. He gazed around and saw other little boys and girls of the neighborhood at their desks and among them sat Frederick serenely attentive, and Herbert thought if Frederick would only talk to him his longings would be realized. And strange to say, it happened when school was over and each child had packed away his books and started homeward, some romping, some playfully tagging each other on the way, that Herbert walked silently along and beside him trudged Frederick.

"Did your mama bring you to school, too?" asked Herbert.

"No, father sent me here with William," answered Frederick.

William was Dr. Butler's chauffeur and for some reason had failed to return to take Frederick the short six blocks home. And now Frederick was walking home.

Before Herbert could ask who William was, Frederick exclaimed:

"My papa gave me a whole dollar and I am going to buy the biggest kite I can find."

Herbert wanted to reply but remained still silent.

"Here comes William," said Frederick, as a big motor car appeared in the distance.

Herbert knew then who William was without asking.

"My father has a wheelbarrow to take the ashes to the street," informed Herbert, timidly.

"And do you ride in it with him?" asked the doctor's little boy.

"No, he rides the ashes." And at that moment the doctor's machine appeared at the curb.

"Jump in, Frederick," cried William. And both children climbed into the machine.

Herbert was too elated to talk on the way. He sat on the soft cushions and at last felt that he was one of the little boys whose fathers owned automobiles. But the ride was not long and soon they were rolling up into the yard of the great house where Frederick's mother stood smilingly awaiting the return of her little man. The children climbed out, and as the friendly looking woman approached, Herbert wondered what she would say. For Herbert's mother had always told him that rich people were bad, but somehow it was hard for him to think Frederick's mother was bad; yet she must be bad too as were all rich people. He wondered if she was going to drive him out of the yard. A large and ferocious looking dog close by growled and then Herbert began to wonder if he would ever get home and escape the threatened bite of that dog. And as all these thoughts scurried back and forth through his little mind, his first impulse was to cry and then he wondered what Frederick would think of him, for he was lots too old to cry ; he was almost eight. This feeling was warded off by the soft voice of the woman standing near.

"Have you been to school, little fellow?"

Herbert succeeded in choking back the lump in his throat but already a tear had escaped and rolled down his hot little cheek.

"Yeh," he answered. "But I want to go home to my mama."

"All right, little boy, but wouldn't you like to come in and have lunch with Frederick first?" Mrs. Butler's tone sounded more like a gentle command than a question.

"Oh, yes, do!" cried Frederick eagerly. It was not often that Frederick had a guest all to himself for lunch. "And then William can whizz you home in the car in no time," he added.

When Herbert arrived home he did not wait to say good-bye to William but dashed into the house to tell his mother about his wonderful visit; however, he was met with sharp abuse for going visiting without her consent on the first day he had been permitted to enter school. She threatened to thrash him severely if he ever went to the great house again.

"I've told you them ain't your kind," she said, sourly. "And you keep out of their yard, you hear!"

All the time that Herbert was mincing at his supper that night he thought about the deliciously tasting lunch served on the spotless white
[illustration - Herbert cut the poisonous reptile in two] table cloth, and the over-flowing vase of beautiful roses in the center. He had eaten on table-cloths before, on Sundays, in his young life when he used to stay out in the country with his grandmother, two years ago. His grandmother, he remembered, always kept flowers on the table. He had missed these at first when he came back to live with his mother and father. He often wondered why his mother never put flowers on the table.

Herbert, however, had long ago learned to keep his thoughts to himself but a new day had dawned for him, for all the rest of the afternoon he thought of Frederick and it seemed as though the morrow and the time to go to school and see him again would never come. The next morning Herbert was awakened out of the most delightful dream. He no longer lived in the basement, and his father's wheelbarrow had turned into a wonderful blue limousine with cushions so soft that he became lost in their folds, and the tired look had gone from his dear mother's face forever and ever and she smiled like Frederick's mother, and the roses in her garden were as large as sun-flowers. Herbert was in the machine, which went faster and faster until it approached a high hill and when the summit was reached and the car started downward, it seemed to go even faster until he became dizzy and his head began to go around and around, then suddenly he seemed to be falling and oh, it seemed ever so far! Herbert thought of what would happen when the bottom was reached. Then something lifted him up and his eyes opened wide. He heard the school bell ringing and his mother was saying:

"Get up, Herbert, you are late for school!" Oh, how glad Herbert was that it had all been a dream!

When Herbert reached the school-room all the children were already seated at their desks. There was Frederick attentively seated at his desk, for Frederick was a model little fellow and carefully followed the teachings of his kind parents. His blouse was clean and fresh, as usual, and his hair nicely parted on the side. His shoes, thanks to William's faithfulness, were also spotlessly cleaned. Frederick looked up and smiled as Herbert took his seat directly across the isle.

As the days went by the two little boys became
devoted little friends at school and Frederick implored his mother not to send William for him, for he wished to walk with Herbert instead. And the janitor's son even began to walk like his mate, with his head erect and now fairly pranced along as proudly as if the wheelbarrow had really turned into an automobile. Herbert hated to see Saturday and Sunday come around—there was no Frederick to be seen on these days.

So it was Herbert's school life that became his whole existence. Even the arithmetic class, which he at first dreaded, was no longer a bugbear, for Frederick always got his sums right and frequently they would meet early and Frederick would get Herbert's right or show him how to get them right. When the teacher failed to make the process clear to Frederick he would ask his mother, who could always make things ever so much more clear than teacher-in-mathematics, anyway.

But these few moments before the bell rang were not always used for the purpose of working out sums. Often the two little boys would take short walks in the broad fields back of the school before the bell rang, and exchange the romancings of their imaginations. Herbert was always conquering some deadly foe and riding home victoriously to tell his mother, who always showed quite plainly how proud she was of him. Sometimes he rode at the head of armies (Frederick often had to help him in getting the ranks straight), capturing several kingdoms loaded with gold which he spent in giving millions and millions of little boys picnics, and plenty, just plenty of ice cream to eat.

The nature of Frederick's romancings were quests and wanderings in parts of the country yet unexplored, undertaking dangerous adventures and making experiments and discoveries which made people open their eyes in wonder. Then the first bell rang and they had to race back across the field to be in time to get in line.

Today Herbert looked troubled. He had promised Frederick he would come up to his house that afternoon and help him build a real picket fence around the mid-way which he had been erecting for the past week. He remembered how fiercely his mother had answered him when he asked just to go and see it one afternoon, and he dared not ask her again. After he had chopped enough wood for his mother's use, he took his small axe and shaved off a nice picket. What nice pickets he could make with his little axe! Then he made several and decided to take them around and hand them over the low concrete fence to Frederick. Yes, he would take his axe along, maybe he might stop long enough to drive one in for Frederick.

"I've been waiting here quite some time for you," cried Frederick, his face lighting up at the sight of Herbert. He opened the gate and stepped back for Herbert to come in, when out from the rosebush there appeared right in front of him a spreading adder, which instantly reared up on its tail until it was almost as high as Frederick. Then it began to spread and hiss, its dangerous fangs darting in and out of its open mouth. Frederick's mother on the porch screamed. Frederick stopped suddenly and paled. Herbert, who was only a few feet away, stepped forward and raised his axe and cut the poisonous reptile half in two.

Mrs. Butler came forward hysterically laughing and crying and, catching up both little boys, clasped them tightly in her arms and took them into her husband's study to tell him what had happened. Dr. Butler came out into the yard to see if the two halves were still squirming but found them lying perfectly still.

Just then Mrs. Marshall appeared at the gate very much flushed and angry and inquired if Herbert was there. Catching sight of her son in the doorway, she called him to her and boxed him on the ears. It was very annoying to need some starch from the store and look around for her boy and find him gone. Anyway, he had been told not to come there!

"Oh, please don't—let me explain," cried Mrs. Butler. "You don't realize what he has done. He has saved our little boy's life."

But Mrs. Marshall did not wish to see anything but the inconvenience she had been put to and was half way down the street when Mrs. Butler got through speaking, dragging our little man after her.

"I really think she is down-right cruel," said Mrs. Butler, hotly. "Think of my treating Frederick that way ! Supposing he did disobey —supposing he had not been there at the gate —" she shuddered at the thought of what might have happened.

"I really think disobedience is justified in this instance," said Dr. Butler, slowly. "And we've got to do something for that little man."

"Yes, we must," agreed Mrs. Butler, warmly.


"What do you think we ought to do for the little man who just saved your life, son ?" asked Dr. Butler, gravely.

"I think we ought to bring him here to live with us," answered Frederick, promptly.

"But he has a home and a mother—"

"Not a nice mummy like mine," reiterated Frederick. "Nor a nice daddy either," he added diplomatically.

After a long consultation between them and a still longer one with Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, it was decided that Herbert was to come and live at the great house. He was, however, to spend some time at home, probably week-ends, with his father and mother.

When the two boys got the news of the final arrangements they hugged each other and laughed and rolled over and over on the lawn, kicking their brown legs in the air, shrieking at the tops of their voices.

"Ain't I glad that ole snake came out of the rose-bush !" Herbert was saying between gurgles of shrieks and laughter.

"Ain't I glad you had your axe and cut that ole snake in two," shrieked Frederick louder. "Ain't I glad—ain't I glad!" he squealed until he was hoarse. Then he caught Herbert around the neck and over and over they rolled, first one on top and then the other, shrieking and yelling.

Dr. Butler, quite alarmed at the strange noise, rushed out to see what was the matter. Was that his little pensive slip of dignity of a son making all that noise? Then he chuckled softly to himself and turned and went back into the house.



WE will now take a visit to the Queen Hornet and watch her. There she goes, looking for a place to build her home. Would you like to follow her and see what she is going to do? She has selected the place she is going to build.

Look! She is flying around to find a decayed tree, so that she can cut some strips out of it. The hornet was the first to make paper. Then man copied after the hornet. The queen is now carrying the strips back to the place she selected to build her home.

Would you like to hear how she builds her home? The queen is now making a number of posts to hold her home together. She is pasting this paper all around the small posts and she is also making little cells. As soon as she finishes a cell she lays an egg.

The first set of eggs takes from two to three weeks to hatch. When the eggs have hatched, there come from them tiny insects called grubs. It takes all the queen's time to go find food to give her children.

After they have eaten a sufficient amount, the grubs spin thread around these cells so as not to fall out as they sleep. The grubs sleep for two weeks. While they are asleep the queen works on the outside of her home.

Now the grubs are awake but they are not grubs any more, their names are workers. The queen gives them their last meal. The workers must help the queen to work.

As fast as the workers make a cell the queen lays her second set of eggs. Now the eggs have hatched. The grubs have eaten so much that they are preparing to go to sleep. They have awakened and their names are drones. They are the male hornets. The drones are very lazy —they just clean out their own cells when the nest is over-crowded.

The queen and the workers go right on working and the queen lays her last set of eggs. The grubs have been asleep and have awakened from the two weeks' sleep, and have gone to look for their winter homes. Their homes are in our houses. So we must not hurt them.

The drones have died. They drank too much apple juice. The workers had a few weeks of play, then they died. The queen died, leaving her young queens to take up her work next year.



The Judge is sprawling none too elegantly in a steamer-chair on the porch. So engrossed in a book is he, that he does not hear Wilhelmina who comes up quietly and taps him on the shoulder. Then he starts so violently that he drops his book. Wilhelmina picks it up for him.

"Out of reverence for your grey hairs," she tells him as she restores it. "No wonder you start," she continues reproachfully. "Here you sit all wrapped up in your book and never stop to think that though the summer is nearly ended, you've never said a word to us on 'what to read.' "

"Mercy," says the Judge, "how remiss!" He regards her thoughtfully. "Don't you think that I haven't been thinking about you. Only when I hear all of you talking about the latest novels,—those awful serials, you know, that run in the weekly papers and all that sort of thing, I think to myself, 'Pshaw! those youngsters don't want to hear of the kind of books I'm interested in; they're all too serious.' And you see I don't know of any other kind."

"But that's just it," intervenes William, who has come up with the other children. "We can pick out the sort of book we want to read for ourselves. But when it comes to the sort we ought to read, why of course we have to look to you."

Wilhelmina perches herself on the arm of the steamer-chair which "fortunately," says William, "is a broad and strong one." His sister is no fairy in weight and is none too fond of being told about it. But she makes a very pretty picture as she sits there with her fine brown head rising from the severely simple lines of her dainty pink dress. She treats William's remark with the contempt which it deserves, and concentrates on the Judge.

"It isn't too often that William's remarks are worth considering," she begins, "but he certainly said something worth while when he told you we look to you for real information concerning books. We're after that now, so you might as well begin. For instance, tell us about that book which you're reading now. To see you looking at it, one would think it the most absorbing book in the world."

"It is an absorbing book to me," the Judge tells her, "because it's about the subject which is almost without exception the most absorbing topic in the world."

"And I know what that is," exclaims Billy, "Africa! You talk a lot to us, Judge, about all sorts of things, but nothing ever seems to excite you so much as Africa. I noticed the other day when you were telling us about that dream country— what was it now?"

Wilhelmina prompts him, "Atalanta—no, Atlantis."

"That's it," nods Billy. "Well you were very much interested even in that and yet that was only a make-up place."

"You've surprised my secret," laughs the Judge. "You don't mean to tell me you even want to hear about books on Africa."

"Indeed we do," they all chorused, even Billikins.

"Well then listen. Formerly a lot of trash and misinformation used to be written about Africa. But lately all that has changed and one is able to get nowadays a pretty definite array of facts concerning that wonderful and mysterious land. Some of it is rather sad reading, but all of it is interesting, and I'm not sure but that even the sadness has its good points, because it may cause some gifted young men of this generation to turn their thoughts toward remedying the causes of that sadness."

"And gifted young women too," Wilhelmina puts in jealously.

"By all means, the young women ; we can't do anything without them. I am sure now that you are interested in Africa, so next month I'll have a list all ready. But you must actually read them."

"You can depend on us, sir," says William solemnly.



OUT of clouds and clouds of clouds, out of rain and wind of rain, out of storm and out of strife, always I have seen the coming of sunshine and gladness.

  • President Harding has invited the leading nations of the world to a convention, in order to discuss the lessening of armies and navies and peace on earth.
  • Salamon Teilirian, who assassinated Talaat Pasha, the Turkish Vizier, has been acquitted in the Berlin District Court on the ground of insanity. The Armenian youth said that he committed the crime to avenge the slaughter of his people.
  • A noted British General, Lord Julian Byng, has accepted appointment as Governor-General of Canada.
  • At a meeting of the Union of League of Nations Associations, held in Geneva, the assembly adopted a resolution favoring the admission of Germany to the League of Nations.
  • King George has opened the Ulster Parliament in Ireland. He wishes the factions to end their strife.
  • The Council of the League of Nations has been asked by Mahomed Fahmy, the leader of the young Egyptians, to mediate between Egypt and Great Britain.
  • The strike of British coal miners has been ended by a 15-months' truce, during which time profit-sharing will be tested.
  • The Irish Republican leader, Eamonn De Valera, and the Ulster Premier, Sir James Craig, have been invited by Premier Lloyd George to a peace parley in London.
  • The Aland Islands have been awarded to Finland by the Council of the League of Nations, and Sweden has accepted the decision.
  • Resolutions suggesting a conference of America, Japan and Great Britain on disarmament have been adopted by the Japanese League of Nations Society. Japan's mandate of the Island of Yap, however, must be regarded as a decision neither requiring nor justifying comment.
  • Premiers of British dominions and representatives of India, at a banquet given by the League of Nations Union in London, voiced increasing confidence in the League of Nations.
  • In Trafalgar Square, London, a bronze copy of Houdon's marble statue of George Washington has been unveiled. It is the gift of Virginia to Great Britain.
  • A release from prison has been granted Arthur Griffith, founder of the Sinn-Fein organization of Ireland; Professor John MacNeill, president of the Gaelic League, and two other Sinn-Feiners, members of the British House of Commons, in order that they may attend a conference with Eamonn De Valera.
  • The new Premier of Italy, Signor Bonomi, has formed a Cabinet to succeed that of Signor Giolitti, who has resigned.
  • General Jan Christiaan Smuts has gone to Dublin to discuss peace measures with De Valera and other factional leaders. General Smuts is Premier of South Africa.
  • The Second Pan-African Congress meets in London, Brussels and Paris, August 28 to September 5. Representatives from groups of colored peoples all over the world will be present to discuss their problems.

NO matter how sweet the sunshine or how gay the waters, storms will come. What of it? I fly through them blithely and seek the sun again

  • In race rioting in the Negro section at Tulsa, Oklahoma, thirty persons were killed and 300 wounded; the property loss is $1,500,000. The cause of the riot was the successful effort of the colored folk to prevent a lynching.
  • Floods and cloud-bursts have overwhelmed Pueblo, Colorado. Many people were drowned
    and the main business district was destroyed. The property damage is estimated at $20,000,000.
  • A gift of $17,000,000 has been announced by the Carnegie Foundation. The money will be used for the maintenance and development of the Carnegie Institute and the Carnegie Institute of Technology at Pittsburgh.
  • The Socialist party of the United States has refused to affiliate with the Third Internationale of Moscow, by a 35-4 vote ; it has declared against international relations of any kind.
  • President Harding has nominated Charles B. Warren, of Michigan, as Ambassador to Japan.
  • According to the Census Bureau there are in the United States 94,833,431 white people, 10,463,013 Negroes, 242,959 Indians, 111,025 Japanese, 61,686 Chinese and 9,485 others.
  • Secretary of the Navy Denby has administered a public reprimand to Admiral W. S. Sims for his speech in England, in which the Admiral criticized the Sinn-Fein element in America.
  • By an overwhelming vote, the American Federation of Labor has re-elected President Samuel Gompers and his entire staff.
  • C. R. Forbes, director of the Bureau of War Risk Insurance, says the Government has disbursed $226,486,891.34 in compensation and death claims to former soldiers and their families.
  • The 12½% wage reduction order by the United States Railroad Labor Board, effective from July 1, has been extended to probably every large railroad in the United States.
  • During May, European exports amounted to $177,000,000 as compared with $384,000,000 during May of last year. The total for the eleven months ending with May was $3,231,000,000 as compared with $4,568,000,000 for the same period last year.
  • Senator Penrose has introduced an administration bill to enable the re-arranging of the debts of foreign governments to the United States. The sum amounts to over $10,000,000,000. Under this bill the Treasury will have authority to extend loans or interest payments, to accept foreign bonds in payment, and to settle all claims not now secured.
  • The Senate has agreed to the Army Appropriation bill, which provides for the reduction of the army from 220,000 to 150,000 men by October 1.
  • By a vote of 263-59 the House of Representatives has passed the compromise peace resolution ending war between the United States and Germany and Austria. The Senate has passed the resolution by a 38-19 vote and the President has signed it.
  • An agreement to arbitrate has been signed by paper manufacturers and a committee representing 12,000 striking employees in the United States and Canada.
  • President Harding has appointed ex-President William Howard Taft as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. The nomination was immediately confirmed by the Senate by a 61-4 vote.
  • For the fiscal year ending July 1, according to the Treasury Department, the cost of running the, United States Government was $5,115,927,689.
  • In the fourth round of the prize fight in Jersey City, N. J., Jack Dempsey knocked out Georges Carpentier, the French champion, and retained the heavyweight championship of the world.
  • President W. C. Teagle states that the Standard Oil Company will discontinue shipment of oil from Mexico, on account of the imposition of the new Mexican export tax.
  • General Pershing has assumed duties as Chief of Staff ; he succeeds Major-General March. General Harbord is executive assistant to General Pershing.
  • Charles E. Dawes, Director of the Budget, has addressed the President, members of the Cabinet and 500 bureau chiefs on his plans for economy and business in government.
  • A bill providing for a "Bank of Nations" has been introduced by Senator Hitchcock of Nebraska. It carries a capital of $2,400,000,000, the general purpose of which is to stabilize exchange and stop speculation.
  • A permanent tariff bill has been introduced in the House of Representatives. The bill raises the duties on the bulk of imports already taxed, but makes no notable additions to the free list. This is an attempt to raise money by discouraging imports, and it will probably be unsuccessful.
  • The twelfth annual conference of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People was held in Detroit, Michigan, June 25 to July 1. There were 500 delegates in attendance and the audiences aggregated many thousands.



FLORIE JACKSON, Elizabeth Mayfield, Peggy Riley and Florie's two cousins, Tom and Edward Stanton, were out in the garden discussing whether they should use the bottom or the top floor of the barn for their circus.

"I think the top would be best, because people couldn't look in without paying," announced Florie.

"Well we would close the door, anyway," said Tom, "but somebody might fall through the window if we went upstairs."

"I think—" began Peggy, but she was interrupted by Mrs. Jackson, who came into the garden.

"Oh, Florie! guess what!" she exclaimed. "I just got a letter from your Uncle Jim in Arizona, and he wants you to come and spend the summer with him."

"Oh!" beamed Florie, "won't that be too delightful!"

"But," said her mother, "that is not all. You can take your four friends with you."

"Oh! oh! oh! Won't we have lots and lots of fun though!" they all cried at once. Then they forgot all about the circus and got their heads together to talk about Arizona, while Mrs. Jackson went to see the children's mothers. When she came back the look on her face betrayed her before she got a chance to speak. Peggy got up and started to dance around, the rest following. They danced until they were breathless and then dropped on the cool green grass to rest.

"Now," laughed Mrs. Jackson, "since you are through I will tell you when you are going. You'll leave a week from today." Then she ran away with her hands over her ears to escape the expected noise.

"Just think," said Elizabeth a little later, "we leave the clay after school closes."

"And it's a ranch," joined in Florie. "We will have ponies and everything." As she spoke of ponies she glanced to where the boys had been sitting, but they weren't there. "Where did Tom and Edward go?" she asked.

"Here we are," called Tom, and she saw them standing over by the garden gate.

"Won't Annabelle and her friends be jealous when they hear that we are going to Arizona, though?" said Elizabeth. "But how could we tell her?"

"Oh! I know," cried Peggy,—and they started a whispered conversation which did not last long, however, for Tom and Edward soon came back.

THAT night it took a long time for the Sandman to close five little pairs of eyes. In fact, he had to come around twice before he was sure their owners were asleep.

Sunday, Elizabeth and Peggy came over to Florie's house to talk about clothes, while her cousins went outside to talk about cowboys.


"Oh, won't it be grand to see us flying around on fiery steeds and capturing bandits!" exclaimed Edward. And indeed he did not know how near he came to telling the truth.

The next clay it happened that they were studying the Western States in school, and when they came to Arizona, Florie raised her hand.

"What is it, Florie?" asked Miss Anderson.

"Miss Anderson," began Florie, "Saturday mother got a letter from my Uncle Jim in Arizona, and he wants me to take some of my friends and go out there to spend the summer on his ranch."

"Oh, won't that be fine!" said Miss Anderson. "When you come back you can tell us all about Arizona."

That recess and at noon there was no limit to questions from the school children. Everyone crowded around, excepting Annabelle and her friends. As Florie was in the middle of one of her conversations about what they intended to do out West, Annabelle passed by and said to one of her companions, "Huh, what do we care about Arizona? I am going to get a new wrist watch anyway, so there!"

The rest of the week passed haltingly but happily for the children. It seemed as though Saturday would never come. The time came, however, when father drove five excited little children to the station. They did not have to wait long before the train arrived, and after many good-byes, kisses and hugs, the children climbed aboard.

I will not go into details about their journey to Arizona, but I will say that it was delightful and that they saw many interesting sights.

WHEN they arrived at the small station Uncle Jim and a few cowboys were there waiting.

"Hullo," said he as he lifted Florie up and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Ain't this Florie? You was just a little mite last time I saw you."

"Yes," she answered. "This must be Uncle Jim." She introduced her friends to him.

All the while the cowboys had been fidgeting from one foot to the other, and when they saw Uncle Jim helping the children into the wagon (borrowed especially for the occasion), one of them said, "Well, Jim, ain't you goin' to interduce us?"

"Oh, yes; excuse me, children. Florie meet Larry," he began. Then he introduced them in turn.

They soon came to a large ranch-house, surrounded by acre after acre of land. Behind it were several corrals. When Tom caught sight of it he jumped up and down crying, "Now for the bandit round-up, Edward."

Uncle Jim laughed a hearty big laugh, then a serious look came into his face. "SD are havin' some trouble," he said. "Them greasers over to the Samson ranch are kinds kickin' up lately."

I will skip over the first few days while the children are getting acquainted with the ranch. It was the next week when Uncle Jim suggested that they go on a picnic. "You can go over to Mountain Cliff," he said, "or any place around here, so as you don't go no further than a mile." The cook packed them a nice big lunch and their uncle let them use some none-too-fast ponies.

"They better watch out for them bandits," said Lanky Joe (so called for his long legs).

"Oh, we'll be all right," assured Edward. "Tom and I have our guns, anyway," and so saying he pulled out a toy cap-pistol.

"They can go out by Dobson's cave, can't they?" asked Larry, a tall cowboy, as he shifted a lump of tobacco to the other side of his mouth.

So after being carefully directed where the cave was, the children started, Tom carrying the lunch-basket.

"Won't it be nice!" said Elizabeth. "I'm glad Larry thought of it."

"I guess it will be cool, too," said Peggy, as she glanced reflectively at the prickly cactus that dotted the dry ground as far as the eye could reach. "Seems like you can't get out of the heat."

When they got there it proved to be a big roomy cave, very cool indeed. The girls spread an old table-cloth, which the cook had packed for the purpose, on the floor, and set it with the most delicious food. Tom and Edward went in back of the cave to get some water from a rippling little spring which was shaded by an old, almost leafless tree. When they came back they both wore a very excited look on their faces.

"Guess what?" began Tom.

"No, I want to tell," complained Edward. "You're always first."

"Oh, go ahead then," said Tom disgustedly. "I wish I didn't have a brother."


Edward took no offense, but began. "You know the back of the cave reaches way out to the spring. When we went out there we heard someone talking. At first we thought it was you, but the voices didn't sound like it and we couldn't hear you anyway. The first one we heard said, 'Now listen, Bill, tonight at about eleven o'clock they will turn in. Then we can get away with some of those new horses they got. They ain't been branded yet.' The other one just said, 'All right.'"

"What shall we do?" asked Florie. The rest were silent; then Elizabeth said, "I think we should stay right here while Edward runs as fast as he can to get help."

They all agreed to this and as Edward was about to start he said, remembering their slow journey to the cave, "I suppose I could run faster than anyone of those ponies." Then he started off. They were within a mile of the ranch, so it did not take Edward very long to get there, though he had to stop several times to rest.

Wasn't everyone surprised to see a small boy running with all his might to Uncle Jim! "What's the matter?" asked the man anxiously. "Has anything gone wrong?"

Edward just sat and panted. At last he said, "There are some bandits in the cave. Run quick!" Two cowboys mounted their horses, without having to be told, and started off. The children were beginning to get frightened. The two men crept cautiously back into the cave.

Evidently the bandits were getting ready to leave for one of them said, "Now remember, tonight at twelve o'clock." Then they started out but didn't get very far, for one of the cowboys spoke up in a gruff voice saying, "Hands up!" The bandits lost no time in doing so, for they didn't know just how many men were there and they thought too much of their skins to offer any rebellion.

They were then marched to the ranch and you may believe that there was much surprise. The children were highly rewarded by the sheriff and when they were leaving (two months later) the cowboys crowded around the station shouting, "Come back to Arizona! Come back to Ariz-on-a!"


The Lament of a Vanquished Beau

WILLY is a silly boy,
Willy is a cad.
Willy is a foolish kid,
Sense he never had.
Yet all the girls like Willy—
Why I cannot see,—
He even took my best girl
Right away from me.
I asked him did he want to fight,
But all he did was grin
And answer, "Don't be guilty
Of such a brutal sin."
Oh, Willy's sure a silly boy,
He really is a cad,
Because he took the only girl
That I 'most ever had.
Her hair's so long and pretty
And her eyes are very gay;
I guess that she likes Willy
'Cause he's handsome, too, they say.
But for me, he's not good looking;
And he sure has made me mad,
'Cause he went and took the only girl
That I 'most ever had.



Part I

MY grandfather, Arnold Buffum, was in Paris sometime between 1825 and 1830. He used to go to the receptions which Lafayette held in his Parisian home. There he heard the old Frenchman speak of his interest in the North American Indians, and he also heard him tell of a young fellow of that race whom he had in his service when he was in America helping to win her independence. My recollection is a little hazy for I was a very small child when my mother told me of my grandfather's acquaintance with Lafayette, but I did get the idea that this acquaintance helped to turn Arnold Buffum's objection to Negro slavery into a definite purpose to work for its overthrow.

Soon after his return to America, he went to William Lloyd Garrison and offered his help, which was gladly accepted. He became the first president of the New England Anti-Slavery Society, thus linking Lafayette's influence upon himself with the great Garrisonian movement on behalf of the Negro race.

I have lately been prompted to look up Lafayette's record, in relation to the darker races, and I find that the facts set down, in reputable history, go far to prove that there was an element of something like divinity in his nature. He was only a little more than twenty years old when, having command in northern New York State, he was asked by General Schuyler to attend a council of many Indian tribes, which had been summoned to meet in the Mohawk Valley. General Schuyler's purpose was to conciliate these Indians, and apparently this French boy was more capable of conciliating and charming everybody than any other available person. Five hundred red men, women and children were present at this conference. Lafayette perceived that, wild and strange as they looked to European eyes, the men could talk sensibly on the topics suggested by the occasion. And they all possessed a human quality which appealed to him and to which he could appeal. He won their hearts completely though, boy-like, he afterwards wrote playfully to his young wife, Adrienne, "that they showed an equal regard for his words and for his necklaces." One tribe formally adopted him as a blood-brother to themselves. They bestowed on him a new name, that of Kayewia, and a band of Iroquois joined his military command.

His Revolutionary work here being' done, Lafayette had been home in France for several years when, in 1784, he returned to America. He came on a visit out of love for George Washington and the newly established Republic. He then went to Fort Schuyler, where, "at a treaty making pow-wow, he again met his Indian brothers." He did not, this time, stay very long on the American continent. When he left Mt. Vernon, on the way to his place of embarkation for France, Washington drove with him to Annapolis. During his return journey, after the parting, Washington wrote a letter to him, in which he said, "I have often asked myself, since our carriages separated, whether that was the last sight I ever should have of you; and though I wished to say 'No', my fears answered 'Yes'." The two friends never did meet again.

The American element was even manifest in Lafayette's French home. A young officer of the period wrote, after a visit, to the house in the Rue de Bourbon in Paris, "He (Lafayette) has an American Indian in native costume for a footman. This savage calls him only 'father'."

In 1824, Lafayette made his last visit to the United States. He was then sixty-eight years old. Since he had been in this country, he had taken a prominent part in the effort to guide the French Revolution in the direction of sanity and civic welfare. He had been a prisoner for five years in Austrian jails. He had done great work, he had had great joy and had met with great sorrow. Old as he was and already deeply experienced, he was yet to stand on that pinnacle of stupendous opportunity, when he chose between becoming himself the President of a French Republic and placing Louis Phillipe on the throne as a constitutional Monarch.

It was during a quiet interval in his life that he came to America, by special invitation, to lay the corner stone of Bunker Hill Monument. He stayed a year and everybody honored him and, in his own sweet way, he loved everybody;
[illustration - They all made friends with each other. MARCELLUS HAWKINS ]
although he saw some faults in the country he had helped to create.

He spent several months in the city of Washington, where he saw, and undoubtedly rejoiced to see, stately and self-possessed Indians. He also met members of the red race on the western frontiers, to which his journeys took him. Once he was the guest over night in the primitive home of an Indian named Big Warrior.

Although the purpose of this paper is especially to reveal Lafayette's attitude towards the darker races, it adds value to the story of the way he treated them to know that he was good and kind in all other relations of life. He was a loving husband to a very noble woman. He was a tender father. He was almost unique among the French nobility in his conduct toward the peasantry. One year, before the French Revolution, his crops were good but the peasants, for some reason, had lost almost their entire harvest. His steward congratulated him upon his fully stocked granaries, saying, "Monsieur le Marquis, now is the time to sell."

"No," answered Lafayette, "now is the time to give away."

He established a school where weaving was taught. He introduced improved agricultural methods; and he kept a physician on his estates to look after the health of his tenants. He was very rich during this period of his life, but in the French Revolution much of his property was swept away.

He advocated many reforms in French law and custom, such as religious liberty, trial by jury and the abolition of the death penalty.

At the time of Lafayette's youth very few religious or political leaders had publicly condemned slavery as absolutely wrong. Moreover, it was not then a common opinion that an inferior race might yet develop and attain to a condition of superiority. It is, therefore, probable that the French boy had scarcely given a thought to the fact that there were black slaves on this continent before he crossed the ocean to help win the independence of the revolting English colonists. He was destined to find these black slaves here and to learn that the man whom he was to love and honor above all other men was a slave-holder. How were those facts to affect him, this "marvellous boy" with the loving heart and the truth-seeing eyes?

His ship came first to a small island near Georgetown, on the coast of South Carolina. No one on board knew the region, and at two o'clock on the afternoon of June 13th, 1777, the eager young adventurer with a few officers and sailors left the ship in a boat and rowed along the shore to see what they could find. Eight hours later they found some Negroes dredging for oysters. These men did not know French and, although Lafayette had studied English, he could not easily understand their dialect. But somehow heart spoke to heart, as generally did happen when one of the hearts was Lafayette's. Also the sympathetic responsiveness characteristic of the Negro race undoubtedly helped. They all made friends with each other. The foreigners got into the oyster boat, since the tide-water had already become too shoal for further progress in their skiff. The Negroes ferried them along the shore until at midnight they landed near the house of Major Huger, who was the master of these dusky ferrymen. It is probable that Lafayette scarcely realized at the moment, that the men who had befriended him in his need were chattel slaves, or that he was fully aware of all the facts and all the possibilities which that legal condition implied in the country he had come to free. Nevertheless, his kindly feeling for their race, if it had been dormant before, must have begun to stir into life on that night. He held the desire for the black man's freedom ever after in the golden casket of his heart.

I wish I knew and could tell you just what those lowly dredgers for oysters themselves thought and felt about the gracious boy whom they had rescued from the perils of his midnight adventure. Dredging for oysters, they had found and brought to America, a pearl whose price was above that of rubies.

A little white child, Major Huger's five year old boy, became one of Lafayette's adorers during the brief stay that the tall young stranger made in his father's home. Long afterward this boy, being grown up, got himself into an Austrian prison for trying to rescue his childhood's hero from such a dungeon.

Dr. Clognet says that Lafayette contributed by his influence in America to the enactment of laws against the slave trade. He also states that "after the decisive campaign against Lord Cornwallis in 1781, Lafayette, on receiving the thanks of the State of Virginia, replied by the expression of a wish, that liberty might be speedily extended to all men without distinction." The glorious young fellow was then just twenty-four years old—but he had attained to the prophetic wisdom of sages.

(To be continued)





THIS game may best be played indoors. The number of seats used must be one less than the number of players.

One child is chosen by lot for he Builder. He names the different materials used in building a school-house, a barn, or whatever building he may choose, calling out a child to represent each material.

These children form in a line behind the Builder, each child grasping the jacket or apron of the one in front. The line walks about the room or runs softly. When all of the materials have been used, the Builder suddenly calls out "Crash !" and each child rushes for a seat. The one who fails to obtain a seat is the Builder in the next game.

(Let the children guess why the building fell, naming the important materials that were not used in its construction.)


Form four long lines. Place a captain at the head of each line and good runners at the foot. Face as for marching.

Each captain tosses a bean bag (or ball) over the head, using both hands, into the hands of the pupil standing behind. The bean bag continues down the line, passing through the hands of every player. When the last pupil has caught the bean bag (or ball) he runs quickly to the captain. The one who reaches the captain first wins the game.


The players stand in two opposing rows or lines (facing) within easy tossing distance, and toss the bean bag back and forth, beginning at one end and ending at the other.

The snatcher, who is chosen from each side in turn, stands between the lines and tries to snatch the bag when tossed by the enemy's line.

Each time he succeeds, one is scored for his side. If he fails to catch the bag at all during its passage down the lines, his side loses five. The first player on the other side takes his place as catcher, and the game continues.

The winning side is the one which has the higher score at the end of a given time.


All the children stand in a ring. One is chosen for the Blind Child and is blindfolded. The others join hands and skip around him in a circle while he slowly counts to ten. At ten all stand still while he advances and touches one. He tries to guess the name of the one touched by the feeling of' his face, clothes, etc. The one whose name is correctly guessed becomes the Blind Child next time.


ONE girl is the old maid, one boy is Tiny the Cat. The other children are the mice. The old maid first selects her home and then goes to the market to buy some food. While she is gone the mice creep into her house and hide; the cat is asleep. Presently the old maid returns with food, which consists of cheese, crackers and bread. Pebbles or stones may be used instead of the real food. Then she goes out of doors to get some wood to make a fire. While she is out the mice sneak to the shelves and steal her food. When she returns and discovers her food is gone she says, "O! I smell mice. Tiny! Tiny! Mice are in my house!" The cat comes in and the mice make a lot of noise going out. The cat runs after them, also the old maid. The first girl she touches with her cane is old maid in the next game, and the first boy the cat catches is Tiny.


Our Little Friends


Miss Kitty Cat and Her New Hat

MISS KITTY CAT put on her new hat and went out to the park.
She had a white nose and pretty white toes That went "pat! pat!" down the walk.
She had little white gloves on her little white hands,
And she wore a white vestee;
Her coat was gray, a neat cut-a-way,
As neat as neat could be.
A little white bag hung on Miss Cat's arm,
For hankie and purse and key,
She looked very neat and she looked very sweet,
And pretty as pretty could be.
THE park was gay that bright summer day, Miss Kitty soon met a friend.
They sat down on a bench and they said in French,
"Right here an hour we'll spend."
THEY talked of hats and they talked of rats,
They talked of books and they talked of cooks,
They talked of schools and they talked of rules,
They talked of honey and they talked of money,
They talked of gloves and they talked of doves,
They talked of frogs and they talked of dogs,
They talked of lambs and they talked of clams,
They talked of meat and good things to eat,
They talked of girls and they talked of curls,
They talked of boys and outdoor joys,
They talked of men, as many as ten,
They talked of babies and they talked of ladies,
They talked of cars and they talked of stars,
They talked of all these and many more.
Of this one thing I am quite sure,
They said nothing bad about cats!
THEY might have sat on that bench till now,
Had it not been for Mr. Bow-wow.
He came along, with his funny bow-legs,
And his round, round eyes, as big as two eggs.
He saw Miss Cat and her friend so pretty
And said to himself, "It seems such a pity
That we cannot all three have a nice little talk,
And then go together for a nice little walk !"
HE went right up to the bench where they sat,
(The friend and Miss Kitty with her pretty new hat),
He said, "Bow-wow," to tell them his name,
(In French and English it's just the same),
It also means, as you can see,
"Please won't you speak very kindly to me?"
Poor Mr. Bow-wow did not stop to think
That bad dogs chase kitties as quick as a wink!
He meant no harm, but how should they know
That our Mr. Bow-wow was not a foe?
MISS CAT and her friend jumped high in the air,
He gave them such a dreadful scare!
They feared a dog as they feared a bear!
What this "Bow-wow" meant they had no idea,
They thought it was something they must fear!
Miss Cat and her friend did not longer wait!
They ran right straight to the big park gate.
They ran so fast Kitty lost her hat,
Her pretty new hat, just think of that!
It fell just under a big car-wheel!
Dear me, how sad Miss Kitty did feel!
The pretty new hat with its posies and roses!
(She dreams of it every time she dozes!)
The wheel went on—and the hat lay flat!
Our pretty Miss Kitty had lost her new hat!
MISS KITTY ran home as fast as she could,
She had nothing to wear now but her gray hood.
Of course, she looked very pretty in that,
But she wept and wept for her lovely new hat.
When you see Miss Kitty asleep on the rug,
And you think she's cozy and happy and snug,
Just look for a while at her little white paws,
You'll see her working her little sharp claws.
She's dreaming then of Mr. Bow-wow,
And thinking, "I wish I had him now!
He made me lose my pretty new hat,
I'd give him a good long scratch for that!"
POOR Mr. Bow-wow was not much to blame,
He meant to be kind, and it seems a shame
Miss Kitty should not know he came
To tell them, "Bow-wow is my name."
But poor Miss Kitty lost her new hat,
In the street it lies, as flat as flat!
Do you think she will ever forgive him that?



FURTHER reports have come to us of boys and girls who have graduated from High Schools since our July number appeared.

Sumner High, St. Louis, Missouri, 110.

Howard High, Wilmington, Delaware, 23.

Houston Colored High, Houston, Texas, 46 high school graduates and 18 from other courses; 26 will enter college.

Russell Colored High, Lexington, Kentucky, 10, all of whom will enter college; 19 graduates are now in colleges. The school won 11 out of 21 thrift prizes offered by the Woolworth School Banking Association. During seven years the pupils have deposited $4,511; the deposits for this year are $1,393. Out of 491 pupils, 461 are depositors. Professor W. H. Fouse is principal of the school.

Bainbridge, Georgia, 13 graduates, of whom 10 will enter higher institutions; 16 graduates are now in colleges. A bond issue provided a $5,000 improvement on the school building.

Guadalupe College, Seguin, Texas, 43 high school graduates, 9 others. A $5,000 library has been added to the school, the gift of white Baptists, and a $4,000 electric plant and water works, the gift of the late Colonel George W. Brackenridge. Mr. J. Washington, the president, writes : "Colonel Brackenridge has spent more than $100,000 on this plant, besides gifts to various other institutions of learning for colored people in Texas. He made provision in his will that the revenue from his vast estate should go for the education of both colored and white, one-half for white and the other half for colored. He is the man who set aside $100,000 for the conviction of mobs in the United States. His estate runs into millions. He frequently visited our plant, which is estimated to be worth $300,000, all clear of debt."

Central Colored High, Shreveport, Louisiana, 11, 8 of whom will enter college ; 11 graduates are in college. A new brick building, with an auditorium, is to be added this summer. There are 595 pupils in the school.

Pearl High, Nashville, Tennessee, 21.

Armstrong High, Richmond, Virginia, 46 high school graduates, 13 normal school graduates.

Anderson High, Austin, Texas, 13 High School graduates, certificates to 5 graduates in home economics and 2 in manual training; about half of the graduates will pursue study in higher institutions.

Douglass High, Huntington, West Virginia, 7, 2 of whom will enter college; 12 graduates are in college. The track team won all trophies (4) offered at the State High School Track Meet. Thrift Clubs deposited in the school bank $1,045. A social survey of the Negro population has been made by the school.

Faver High, Guthrie, Oklahoma, 22, of whom 14 will enter college; 21 graduates are in college.

Central Mississippi College, Kosciusko, 5 graduates from Normal course and 13 from Grammar department. A girls' dormitory has been erected and a domestic science department added.

Colored High, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 8 High School graduates, certificates to 95.

Bluefield Colored Institute, West Virginia, 39 High School, 11 Normal School graduates.

Livingstone, Salisbury, North Carolina, 44 High School and 17 other graduates. The enrollment, 1,034, is the largest in the school's history. A dormitory with a seating capacity for 2,500 has been completed; a pipe organ which originally cost more than $30,000 has been installed.

Tuskegee, Alabama, 182 Normal graduates, certificates to 89 others.

St. Augustine's School, Raleigh, North Carolina, 22 graduates.

Southern University, New Orleans, Louisiana, 24 Normal and 48 other graduates. The last Legislature made an appropriation for the school of $267,000 which enables it to add five new buildings. Three of the buildings are about completed. In addition to this appropriation $80,000 was given for a Blind Institute which is being erected on the Southern University
property. Total appropriation for maintenance and improvement, $347,000. The school has a student body of 658 and a teaching force of 32.

LeMoyne Normal Institute, Memphis, Tennessee, 40 graduates. Largest class in history of school.

Berean M. T. & I., Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 15 graduates.

Colored High, Xenia, Ohio, 26, of whom 12 will go to college ; 12 graduates are in college. A new building is to be erected next year.

West Kentucky Industrial School, 9 High School and 7 Normal School graduates. The curriculum has been raised to a five year standard; all grade work has been discontinued.

Colored High, Baltimore, Md., 119 Academic and 15 Vocational graduates.

Normal School, Louisville, Kentucky, 10, all of whom will be employed in the Louisville public schools next year.

Attucks High, Hopkinsville, Kentucky, 17 High and 25 other graduates, 15 of whom will enter college; 18 graduates are in college. The General Education Board equipped the Manual Training Department and Physical Laboratory this year.

Bennett College, Greensboro, North Carolina, 24 High School graduates.

Washington High, Pensacola, Fla., 4 High School graduates, certificates to 16 in Grammar department; 2 graduates will enter college; 16 graduates are in college.

Lincoln High, Kansas City, Mo., 83.

Piney Woods Country Life School, Mississippi, 11.

Morris Brown, Atlanta, Georgia, 11 Normal and 20 Commercial graduates.


Worcester, Mass., South High, 2; High School of Commerce, 2; North High School 1.

South Philadelphia High School, 3; Philadelphia Normal, 10; Philadelphia High School for Girls, 7; William Penn High School for Girls, Philadelphia, 4; South Philadelphia High School for Girls, 8; West Philadelphia High School for Girls, 5; Central High School for Boys, Philadelphia, 1.

May we send our congratulations and good wishes to all these little brothers and sisters of ours, and may we in time greet them as college graduates in the columns of THE CRISIS Magazine.



DARLING, sleep and stop your crying.
Sleep and dream of gnomes and fairies;
Dream of Giants and little Brownies
And the Golden Bird that carries
Messages to frogs and crickets,
Telling them of darling's joys,—
That he's tired and must be sleeping
And to please to hush their noise.
Darling, sleep while I am crooning
This sweet lullaby to you;
Close your eyes and wake in Dreamland
Where the fairies wait—they do—
Wait for you, my precious darling,
With your tired little head;
Let your mind roam 'round in Dreamland,
While your body rests in bed.
Darling, sleep while darkness hovers
Over all the beauteous light,
Soon to pall it and to wend it
Into dark mysterious night.
Sleep and linger in the blessed
Land of rest and joy and mirth,
And mayhap to-morrow's living
Will be better by your birth.





IF you had stood on our college campus on a certain day last autumn, you might have seen an interesting sight, at least it was a lively one and a happy one to the persons concerned. We, the students of Fisk University, were the persons concerned and the occasion was a football game with one of our "friendly enemies," a neighboring college.

Down the shaded walk came the boys—perhaps 200 of them, led by the school band playing a very lively march. When the boys reached the steps of the girls' building they paused to wait, for of course there would have been no fun without the girls. However, they didn't wait long before the girls appeared laughing, jumping and running down the broad stone steps; clad mostly in sport sweaters and short, wide skirts, they resembled a flock of children all set for mischief. In a way known only to themselves they formed fours behind the band and eagerly awaited the signal to start. This was given as soon as the boys had placed themselves behind the girls, and we all set off across the hilly streets of the town. The houses for blocks around rang with our college yells. Only you who have been to college can know what a wonderful feeling it is to follow your team, your boys, to do battle for you. And as for you who have never been to college—you'll never know how much of all that is worth while in life you have missed.

Of course, needless to say, we won,—by a drop kick, and did we mob the fellow who made that kick? I'll say we did! Back through the town we marched, hilariously happy but still keeping step with the band in front.

At last we reached again the broad white steps of the girls' building, just as the sun was touching the distant pines, and with much laughing and waving of pennants the column of boys swung back across the campus through the trees. Those of us who were fortunate enough to have front rooms curled up in the window sills to watch them out of sight. But what was the matter? At the entrance to the long walk they had stopped ; the yells had died down and the band was still. For a moment absolute silence prevailed and the deepening twilight added a certain spirituality to the motionless figures by the gate. Then suddenly came a clear tenor voice—alone for a moment, then the others joined in swelling the sweet sound across the grass. Clearly I could hear the words—"I'm gonna lay down my heavy load down by the river side—down by the riverside— I'm gonna lay down my heavy load—ain't gonna study war no more."

Again they sang, still more vigorously—"I made my vow to the Lord and never will turn back; I will go, I shall go—to see what the end will be." Following this by the plaintive words —"Way down yonder by myself, I couldn't hear nobody pray." As these words died away it became absolutely dark, and in the shadows one could just discern the moving figures. When they had almost disappeared among the trees, the faint, sweet strains of "Mandy Lou, My Mandy Lou" rose on the night air, combining in its melody all the love songs of their race.

I had thought all day that at last I had felt the F. U. Spirit, but that night among the hills of Tennessee, as I listened to the strange,
weirdly sweet music of my people, I knew that the true Fisk Spirit was only a phase of the World Spirit and the Brotherhood of Man. And through the harmony of "Mandy Lou" came the words of Whitman:

All the past we leave behind,
Fresh and strange the world we see,
World of labor and the march,
Pioneers, O Pioneers!"



OUT of the past—into the future they creep —voices, insistent and clear. So I am sure that when at length I stand at the end of the road and earthly shadows fall across my path, my eyes will grow dim, but far ahead the veil will lift, and beyond that I shall hear again—even as of old—the sad, sweet music of the ancient songs of my people. Glad songs, sad songs, songs of sorrow, across the years we will hear them again, we who are singing today. From time immemorial they have been learned and sung by the slaves groping blindly for the light through the hot summer nights. These the voices, these are our heritage, in them we hear the struggles, the tragedy, the wonderful faith and destiny of a race. With new voices, steady and true, we carry on the old melody to strengthen us, to guide us in our small share of service—each in his own way, some with our hands, some with our minds, some with our lives, and then "They also serve who only stand and wait." And of those, who shall come after, they also shall hear my sad voices, plaintive voices, blessed voices.



THE storm broke fiercely against the walls of Jubilee, crashing among the ancient trees. Alone in a deserted part of the building I lay, broken in spirit, spent with pain. Then at last, as though under a gentle hand, the storm abated and I heard only the patter of the rain drops against the pane. It seemed as if I heard the Singers of Jubilee saying, "I know the Lord has laid His hands on me," for when we are bowed in brief and pain and the shadows close about us, aye and we walk in the valley of the shadow of death, then do our weary, stumbling feet turn towards Our Father. And out of that hopelessness of bodily pain, out of the darkness of the Gethsemane, which leaves its mark on us all; from the edge of eternity comes a wonderful summons, a message of hope.

For we have become as little children and He hath said unto us, "Suffer little children to come unto Me." Then in the silent cathedral of the night come the angel voices chanting, "I am the Resurrection and the Life." A few moments before it seemed as though the very heavens wept in sympathy with my anguish, but after the fury of the storm was stilled— the rain that fell in Tennessee was tender as a prayer.



I DID not awake-I just glided gently from the hand of sleep back to the world. At first I lay perfectly still, wondering what had awakened me. Glancing across the room I could see that my room mate was sound asleep, so I quietly slipped out of bed and climbed up in the window. The world was bathed in moonlight and across our valley to the distant hills was a carpet of pure snow, gleaming crystal clear in the fantastic light. Not a sound could be heard and as I raised my eyes I noticed a particularly brilliant star; then I remembered. It was Christmas Eve and the Star of Bethlehem shone steadily over the waiting world.

Just at this moment a sound from the inside of the building attracted me, and tipping to the door I opened it a crack. Down the dim corridor came what seemed to me to be a column of angels—slim white-robed figures, and they were singing "Joy to the World." Near they came and passed—fading, fading into the mystic shadows of the far corridors.

As I listened I noticed that the room got lighter as though with an eternal light and, hurrying back to the window, I beheld a faint gloss' in the East. Above, the Star of Bethlehem shone steadfast and true. As I watched the deepening rose in the East, there appeared far below several figures in the snow. After a moment they began to sing. It was the F. U. boys bringing "Merry Christmas" to the girls of Jubilee.

Clear and appealing across the snow came their message to us and to you—

"In the beauty of the lilies
Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom
That transfigures you and me;
As He died to make men Holy
Let us die to make men free."




In Tennessee among the Cumberland hills I there is a valley. During the autumn and winter it sleeps quietly, but in the spring balmy breezes blow up from the Southland—birds make sweet music in the barren trees and the silent valley begins to awake. The walks and the lawns are dotted with trees which gradually become enveloped in a cloud of delicate green tracery. Upon the smooth swells of lawn below they shed the same soft shades of green. Then on the distant hills one can also see terraces of shaded green foliage. Here and there a single pine rises tall and stately, rises against the deep blue and the sky. Here in this beautiful valley I have spent my happiest hours. In the golden sunshine of an afternoon in May you may catch fleeting glimpses of multi-colored ruffles as the girls wander in the shade of the wide-spreading trees. The blossom-laden bushes and the pastel colors of the girls' dresses give touches of color to the scene. Then, lastly, you raise your eyes above the trees and you can see the gables and chimneys of the vine-clad buildings which have looked down in quiet dignity on the children of Fisk through the ages.


Little People of the Month

WILLIE THELMA COWEN is a pupil in the fourth year class at Tuskegee Institute. Recently she took part in the Boston Trinity Church Contest, an annual occasion which all Tuskegee looks forward to with unusual interest and pleasure. Her subject was, "Should Immigration Be Restricted at This Time?" Willie wrote her paper, which showed careful thought and knowledge on the subject. Her delivery was excellent. She won the first prize of twenty-five dollars.

Willie, however, is anxious to become a physical training teacher and shows remarkable ability along this line, having won a prize of ten dollars for making the most progress in physical training.

Best of all, she is a refined, courteous young girl with very many friends.

Another speaker on the occasion of the Boston Trinity Church Contest was George W. Henderson, Jr., a Tuskegee boy. His subject was "Booker T. Washington, the Apostle of Industrial Education." He, too, wrote his address and held the attention of the audience from beginning to end, because of his eloquence. George has left school more than once to help his parents on the farm, and this he has done willingly. He is a very diligent student, however, and is making an excellent record in both his academic and industrial work.

He plans to study medicine after finishing the course at Tuskegee.

Hortense Phrame has completed her studies at the Springfield, Mass., Technical High School, where she was an honor pupil during her last two years. She has also been a violin student at the Springfield Conservatory of Music, having studied with Florence Shortsleeve Fay.

Miss Phrame has played for recitals, musical entertainments and church affairs and was first violinist in the Technical High School Orchestra during her three year course. She expects to enter the New England Conservatory of Music in September and continue her violin studies.

Ronald Marshall, a student at Capron School in Detroit, Mich., won second honors in an oratorical contest held in the auditorium of Central High School. Every public school of the city was represented and Ronald came within 2 ½ points of being adjudged the winner. He was presented with a gold emblem by the ladies of the Daughters of the American Revolution. His subject was "Our Debt to the Pilgrims."

[illustration - Ronald Marshall] [illustration - Hortense Phrame] [illustration - Willie Thelma Cowen] [illustration - George W. Henderson]



THE West 135th Street Y. M. C. A. Branch came off with flying colors, winning a large silver loving cup and many medals in the athletic meet held at McCombsdam Park on Saturday, June 18. This meet was promoted by the Older Boys' Council of New York City, which consists of two delegates from each of the branches. The victory is indeed noteworthy, in view of the fact that over 500 of the best trained athletes from the New York Young Men's Christian Association were competing against each other.

The meet was run on a point basis, the West 135th Street Branch scoring 401/2 points; Bronx Branch, 38 ; West Side Branch, 36; etc. "Randy" Taylor and George Jackson of our branch were the high scorers of the afternoon, the former acquiring 121/2 points, the latter 7½.

In the below 100 pound class, the 440 yard relay team, composed of Cunningham, Hands, Cabule and Cain, ran a beautiful race and put our team in an advantageous position for first place. Perdue placed third in the 220 yard dash and Perry tied for third in the running high jump of the 100-125 pound class.

In the unlimited class, "Randy" Taylor ran away with the "Century" in 10 3-5 seconds. Pinado placed second in the 880 yard run. Jackson won the high jump; Hargrove tied for third place. Taylor won the broad jump with a leap of 19 1/4 ; Hargrove also placed third in this event.

The deciding and most exciting event of the afternoon was the half mile unlimited relay. At this stage of the meet the 135th Street boys were trailing in second place by six points, so all hopes were pinned on the outcome of this event. Hill, the lead-off man, slipped at the start, passing the baton to Jackson, who spurted and opened up a ten yard lead, which he gave to Taylor, who uncorked a sprint and increased his lead by 25 yards. About fifty yards from the tape he eased up, breezing home an easy winner.

The victorious team was banqueted by the Association, at which time Mr. Langdon of the City Office officially presented the cup to Charles Major of the Boys' Executive Council of the West 135th Street Branch, Young Men's Christian Association.


The colored High School boys of New York City have taken a decided step forward in the organization of the Inter-High School Association, which meets every Saturday evening in the West 135th Street Branch of the Y. M. C. A. This body is composed of boys from every High School of the city and to date has a membership of over fifty. The Association's objectives are: To promote scholarship; to encourage boys to stay in school ; to render more service to our schools and our race; to cultivate friendship among the students; to develop more and better athletes ; to extend high standards of character through Clean Speech, Clean Thoughts and Clean Habits.

Henry C. Parker, Jr., is President of this organization. He is ably assisted by Joseph Steuber, Vice-President; Richard Thomas, Secretary, and George Prince, Treasurer.

Mr. William C. Anderson is the Honorary President.


During the week of June 6 to 11 the Boys' Work Department, co-operating with the American Red Cross, opened its fine tiled swimming pool to the boys and men of the community, to teach them the art of swimming. Over 2,000 took advantage of the opportunity. The boys came from Public Schools Nos. 89 and 85, and St. Mark's Catholic School, in class formation, under the leadership of their teachers and monitors. After being registered they were marched down stairs to the gymnasium floor, where in military fashion they disrobed and then received their first instruction in the fundamentals of the stroke. This accomplished, they were next taken in groups to the swimming pool and there put into practice the instructions received.

Each boy, previous to his coming to the "Y," secured the written consent of his parents to enter the pool, also a physical examination from
[illustration - The class in swimming at the West 135th Branch Y. M. C. A. —Brown Brothers ]
the school physician. Never before has there been such a cosmopolitan group in our building. Every nationality and shade of religious beliefs were represented. Never before has a more interesting sight been witnessed, for hundreds of these boys were gathered together.

Over seven hundred boys and men learned to swim during this week. The entire program was arranged by Mr. F. H. Townsend, Physical Director ; Mr. William C. Anderson, Jr., Boys' Work Secretary, and Mr. W. R. Rhodes, Assistant Boys' Work Secretary. These men were ably assisted by the following corps of volunteers, namely : George Stoney, Quentin Hands, Percy Leicestor, Paul Hargrove, Reggie Monroe, Arthur Slaughter, Ernest Baillou, Ralph Jones, Edward Corbin. and Messrs. Philips, Carter, Miller, Alston and Phipps.

So great has been the interest created that once a week during the summer months the pool will be thrown open to the boys and men of the community.

William C. Anderson, Jr., Boys' Work Secretary, West 135th St. Branch, Y. M. C. A., New York.


Mister Sandman

THE SANDMAN walks abroad tonight,
With his canvas sack o' dreams filled tight.
Over the roofs of the little town,
The golden face of the moon looks down.
Each Mary and Willy and Cora and Ned
Is sound asleep in some cozy bed,
When the Sandman opens his magic sack
To select the dreams from his wonder pack.
"Ah," says the Sandman, "To this little girl
I'll send a dream like a precious pearl."
So to Mary Jane, who's been good all day,
A fairy comes in her sleep to play;
But for Corinne Ann, who teased the cat,
There's a horrid dream of a horrid rat,
And the greedy boy, with his stomach too full,
Has a bad, bad dream of a raging bull;
While for tiny babes, a few days old,
Come misty dreams, all rose and gold.
And for every girl and every boy
The Sandman has dreams that can please or annoy.
When at pink-white dawn, with his night's work done,
He takes the road toward the rising sun,
He goes straight on without a pause
To his house in the land of Santa Claus.
But at purple night-fall he's back again
To distribute his dreams, be it moon light or rain;
And good little children get lovely sleep toys;
But woe to the bad little girls and boys!
For those who'd have dreams that are charming and sweet,
Must be good in the day and not stuff when they eat,
'Cause old Mister Sandman, abroad each night,
Has a dream in his sack to fit each child just right.