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THE BROWNIES' BOOK
September, 1921
One Dollar and a Half a Year
Fifteen Cents a Copy
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Add this new book of inspiration to your children's library.
Unsung Heroes
by ELIZABETH ROSS HAYNES
- Frederick Douglass
- Paul Laurence Dunbar
- Booker T. Washington
- Harriet Tubman
- Alexander Pushkin
- Blanche K. Bruce
- Coleridge-Taylor
- Benjamin Banneker
- Phillis Wheatley
- Toussaint L'Ouverture
- Josiah Henson
- Sojourner Truth
- Crispus Atucks
- Alexander Dumas
- Paul Cuffe
- Alexander Crummeli
- John M. Langston
Dedicated to Fisk University —Illustrated— Price $2.50
Address the Author,
ELIZABETH ROSS HAYNES, - - 1761 T St., N. W., Washington, D.C.
or
DU BOIS AND DILL, Publishers
2 West 13th Street New York, N.Y.
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THE BROWNIES' BOOK
announces the following prize winners in our recent circulation campaign.
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The Calloway Scholarship for Four Years—Mrs. D. M. Fair.
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for
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Address: THE BROWNIES' BOOK, 2 West 13th St., New York, N.Y.
THE BROWNIES' BOOK
Published Monthly and Copyrighted by DuBois and Dill, Publishers,
at 2 West 13th Street, New York, N. Y. Conducted by W. E. Burghardt DuBois;
Jessie Redmon Fauset, Literary Editor; Augustus Granville Dill, Business
Manager
VOL.2, NO.9 September, 1921 WHOLE NO.21
CONTENTS
PAGE |
COVER. Drawing—"My! But It's Hard to Choose!." Drawing by Marcellus Hawkins.
|
FRONTISPIECE— President King of Liberia Pays Tribute to the
Memory of Lincoln. |
246 |
A Rainy Day.A Story. Claudia M. Davis.
Illustrated by Carlton Thorpe
|
247 |
How Lilimay "Kilt" the Chicken. From Stories of
Lilimay." Lillian A. Turner
|
251 |
Algiers. William A. Hunton, Jr.
|
252 |
A Strawberry Suprise. Maud Wilcox
Niedermeyer
|
255 |
Friends in the Night. Maud Wilcox
Niedermeyer
|
256 |
Good Morning. A Poem. C. Leslie Frazier
|
257 |
The Judge |
258 |
Our Little Friends |
259 |
Lafayette and the Dark Races. Part II. Lillie
Buffum Chace Wyman. Ilustrated by Marcellus
Hawkins
|
260 |
Inter-Association Track and Field Meet. Annie
Laurie McCary
|
262 |
The Jury |
263 |
COMING HOME FROM CHURCH. A Picture. Photo by Scurlock
|
341 |
The Kola Colonel Charles Young
|
265 |
Little People of the Month |
266 |
Playtime. Original Puzzles.C. Leslie
Frazier
|
268 |
The Ostrich in Captivity. Delphia
Phillips
|
269 |
Autumn Skies. A Poem. Madeline G.
Allison
|
270 |
As the Crow Flies |
271 |
FIFTEEN CENTS A COPY: ONE DOLLAR AND A HALF A YEAR
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must be given. Two weeks' notice in required.
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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 3, 1879.
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[illustration - President King of Liberia Pays Tribute to the Memory of Lincoln
—Underwood Underwood ]
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A Rainy Day
Claudia M. Davis
DRIP, drip, drip! Down fell the rain in a
steady, disheartening downpour. It was Saturday, too, and the four
Wilsons were home from school and had absolutely nothing to do. Mother
was out marketing, father at business, the boy across the street was
ill, the girl next door was away for a week. Bert wondered if the whole
world was wet and gloomy ; he had an idea it was. He just "hated" rainy
days ; couldn't see any sense to 'em anyway ; they only kept one in the
house, especially when one had a brand new pair of skates to try out,
too.
"Bert, let's go down stairs to the laundry and play," suggested Helen,
the twelve-year-old sister. Bert was fourteen and, of course, very
superior on account of his age. Jim, the other brother, was ten, and
Alice, the baby, only six. "What'll we do with Alice?" asked Jim, who
was afraid his elder sister and brother might bar him from the game and
make him watch the baby. "Oh, I guess we can take her along,"
patronizingly answered Bert.
Down stairs they went, Alice and Jim sliding down the bannisters and
Bert and Helen seeing how many steps they could jump at one time.
Arriving there, they pulled out the clothes horse to construct a tent,
while Jim and Alice filled one tub in which to sail their assortment of
little celluloid boats and ducks. The laundress had left the ironing
board up and a pile of clean, snowy, stiff, white things on a chair for
Mrs. Wilson to put away. The children moved these onto the ironing
board, while Bert constructed a wonderful barricade out of the chair and
some blankets.
While engaged in doing this they forgot Jimmy and Alice. Alice mashed her
finger and Jim knew his mother put medicine on bruises and mashed
portions of anatomy. Consequently he went to an adjoining closet, where
there was an assortment of bottles in a medicine chest, kept there for
emergencies. Taking out three or four bottles, he brought them back to
the
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laundry, where it was lighter, and while
examining one put the rest on the ironing board. Alice, wanting to help
also, picked up another bottle, and desiring to see the contents, tipped
it upside down. Out came the cork and—plop! —all over mother's nice,
starched clothes!
"0-oh, now look what you've done!" exclaimed Jim.
This attracted the attention of Helen and Bert, who hurried to see the
cause of the excitement.
"Iodine all over mother's clean clothes!" wailed Helen.
"Gee, look !" said Jim. "The stuff in the bottle is brownish, and the
spots on the clothes are dark blue."
"Perhaps it isn't iodine," said Bert.
"I know it's poisonous and we won't be able to wear those clothes any
more," said Helen.
"Don't be such a Calamity Jane," said Jim.
At this juncture a deep, throaty voice was heard.
"Hey, where are you? It's a wonder you can't let a person in now and
then."
"Uncle Ben !" all cried at once, and made a wild dash toward the big,
square-shouldered, six-footer who appeared at the foot of the steps.
"Did you bring your car? Oh, take us for a ride!" were the next
exclamations.
"Now don't all speak at once. Yes, I brought the car and I'll take you,
so hurry and get ready. Bert, leave a note for your mother so she won't
be worried when she returns at finding everyone out."
While waiting for Bert to finish the note, Jim showed Uncle Ben the blue
stains on the linen.
"That's iodine," Uncle Ben reassured him. "How would you like to come
over to my laboratory," he asked, "and have me explain how it happened
to turn blue?"
They were all enthusiastic over this proposal, so soon the five were in
the laboratory. That laboratory had a fascination for all of them, with
its funny shaped retorts and bottles and siphons. Then, too, there was
the mystery of those liquids and powders and blocks, etc., all securely
confined in glass vials and other containers of all sizes and shapes and
colors. Bert thought he'd be as near Heaven as he'd ever want to be if
he could mix up some of those concoctions, and he resolved then and
there to be a chemist when he grew up, like Uncle Ben. Fastidious Helen
didn't like the odor emanating from some of them. Jim was too curious to
mind odors, and Alice was busily engaged in weighing one small finger on
a tiny scale.
Uncle Ben poured some iodine, this of a dark brownish, reddish color,
into a test tube and then put a small piece of egg white in it. Nothing
happened that they could see. He then put a lump of starch in another
test tube and poured the iodine over it. Immediately the mixture turned
a dark blue color.
"Iodine," explained Uncle Ben, "turns starch blue; that is why your
mother's clothes had blue spots on them instead of brown. However, don't
worry about them, I'll take her something that will get the spots
out.
"Does it turn everything blue that is starchy?" asked Helen.
"Yes," replied Uncle Ben, who then took a slice of potato, a small piece
of bread and a kernel of corn, pouring iodine on each. All turned blue,
the corn having a dark blue area in it around the edge.
"I didn't know before that we ate starch in food."
"There are lots of things you didn't know before," said Uncle Ben.
Helen then went around the laboratory sniffing at first one bottle and
then another. Com-ing to one with a pretty greenish colored chemical
inside, she picked it up and tried to open it.
"Hold on there," cried Uncle Ben, "that's chlorine."
"What! the same stuff they put in bombs during the war?" asked Bert.
"Exactly," replied Uncle Ben. "It's very dangerous and even one smell of
it will eat away your lungs as much as consumption will. You mustn't
handle these things in here or you might get hurt."
So saying, he took the bottle from Helen. "Do you know," he continued,
"that ordinary table salt has chlorine in it?"
"That couldn't be," said Jim, "you just said it was dangerous."
"Yes, but it is a part of salt, too," was the answer. "It's combined with
another chemical called sodium, and an entirely new product is the
result."
"Can you make it?" asked Alice, who didn't fully understand what the
others were talking about.
"Yes, I can make it," said Uncle Ben, "and some day I'll make some for
you."
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[illustration - Out came the cork and—plop !—all over mother's nice, starched
clothes.]
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Bert was repeating to himself, "Iodine, chlorine. They don't sound so
much alike, but both end in 'ine,' " he declared.
"What is that, Bert?" questioned his uncle. "Is iodine anything like
chlorine?"
"Yes, there are four elements in that group," said Uncle Ben, and iodine
is the mildest. Fluorine is stronger than chlorine, and bromine
also."
"Do chemists make all our salt?" was the next question.
"No," was the reply. "In some countries there are immense salt beds, and
salt is also gotten by evaporating sea water."
"How interesting!" exclaimed Helen. "It seems that the most ordinary
articles have such amazing histories."
"Well, I know something that's simple enough," said Jim, "and it's water.
I bet you can't give a long account of plain water."
"Yes I can. Did it ever occur to you that drinking water and the peroxide
that mother puts on cuts, etc., are both composed of the same
elements?"
"That's ridiculous," answered Bert. "Peroxide is utterly different."
"Suppose you bring me that bottle of peroxide from over there. Now, what
do you read on it?"
"Hydrogen Peroxide, and there's a big H and a big 0 with a little 2 down
at the bottom of each," replied Bert. "H2o2"
"What's that for?" asked Helen.
"H is for hydrogen and 0 stands for oxygen," replied Uncle Ben.
"Isn't oxygen the stuff in the air that we breathe?" asked Jim.
"Yes, but although it's a gas, it forms a liquid when combined with
hydrogen. Those '2's' mean that there are two parts of hydrogen mixed
with two parts of oxygen."
"Equal quantities of each," supplemented Helen.
"Exactly; now that is peroxide. When there are two parts of hydrogen to
one of oxygen, or in other words twice as much hydrogen as oxygen, we
have water."
"Really !" all cried. "Well, then,, how do you write water in chemistry?"
asked Helen. "Just a big H and 0 with a two after the H and nothing
after the 0. Like this," and Uncle Ben produced a pencil and scribbled
the formula H2O on the back of an envelope. Helen thought a minute.
Then, "Uncle Ben, are there any other compounds that are made of the same
elements, but are entirely different?"
"Certainly, there are lots of them. The ice cream soda you drink is
one."
"Tell us about it," added Alice, who wanted to say something, even though
she couldn't always follow the others.
"Well," explained Uncle Ben, "that seltzer is nothing but plain water
with carbon and oxygen added.
"Gee, carbon is in pencils, isn't it?" asked Jim.
"Yes, a form of carbon called graphite. They are not lead as people call
them. But to continue: in soda, the carbon is mixed with twice as much
oxygen. This forms an odorless, colorless, tasteless gas which dissolves
in water and makes it charged like vichy. There is another gas composed
of equal parts of carbon and oxygen, also odorless, colorless and taste
less, but which is poisonous. Most people who are overcome when
repairing automobiles have been breathing in this carbon monoxide, as it
is called, without knowing it, and it fills their lungs and causes that
effect."
"What is the soda-water compound called?" asked Bert.
"Carbon dioxide; di means 'two,' just as 'mon' in monoxide means one."
"Yes, I learned that while studying prefixes," Bert said.
"I guess I'd better take you children for a ride and get back home before
it's late," said Uncle Ben.
"Will you let us come back again?" they all asked.
"Some day," he answered.
At this juncture a loud clatter was heard and Alice emerged from under a
table a sorry looking sight. She grasped the tip of a Bunsen burner in
one hand and an empty alcohol bottle in the other. The tiny scales were
on the floor and a crucible cup or two were in fragments among the
scales. The contents of the bottle were liberally spattered over the
front of her dress.
"What on earth are you doing?" asked Helen. "I just tried to weigh that
little cup and the things fell off," answered the child.
"All by themselves, I suppose," retorted Jim, with a fine sarcasm which
was completely lost on Alice.
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"I want to stay here," said Bert. Another discussion ensued. Helen wanted
to stay, but also wanted to go riding. Alice wanted to go and Jim wanted
to do both. Finally Uncle Ben settled the matter.
"Suppose we go riding now and next Saturday I'll bring you back and let
you help me make that salt." This met with their approval, so in five
minutes all were in the car serenely sucking lollypops and watching the
people splashing around, wrestling with overshoes and umbrellas.
"Hm-m-m," mused Bert, "some rainy days aren't so bad."
"That is left with you," said Uncle Ben. "It is the way one regards
them."
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HOW LILIMAY "KILT" THE CHICKEN
From "Stories of Lilimay"
LILLIAN A. TURNER
LILIMAY was eight years old when a tragedy
occurred in the country settlement where she lived, which occasioned her
first visit alone away from home.
A friend of her father had been killed by lightning in the sight of his
sister, who was so affected by it that she became subject to
melancholy.
Being childless and fond of Lilimay, it was decided to lend her the
latter for the summer.
This was a great and new experience to Lilimay, who was brown of eyes,
face and hair. This last curled and blew around her face when not
confined in the pigtails which adorned the head on week days.
Lilimay liked Miss Kate and Uncle Harrison, the husband, but did not
always understand the idioms of their speech, having herself been born
in the grassy valley of middle Ohio and in a country district of New
England's descendants.
However, what she didn't understand didn't matter so much until the day
that brings forth this story.
Perhaps it is well to explain that her parents were the old-fashioned
kind so rapidly dying out, who taught, demanded and received obedience
without question, so that refusal to obey or to say, "I can't", never
entered her head.
Miss Kate had chickens and, as usual with them, there was always one or
more hurt, or sick ones which were brought into the house, wrapped in a
woolen cloth and put in a warm place, generally under the kitchen
stove.
Who has ever handled chicks in the kitchen and not heard them cheep and
cheep and cheep until one becomes frantic with listening to it?
It was Miss Kate's custom to take a nap after the twelve o'clock dinner
and to have Lilimay take it with her, much against her will, for a more
restless being was hard to find, and every possible excuse would be
devised daily to elude the nap.
On this day, after lying listening to the sick chickens cheep until
almost frantic, Lilimay must go into the kitchen for a drink, and while
there Miss Kate called to her from the
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front room, "Lilimay, kiver the chicken,
honey."
"Ma'am?" asked Lilimay, unbelievingly.
"Kiver the chicken, I said," replied Miss Kate in her soft Kentucky
drawl.
Lilimay feeling hot and cold in spots, swallowed hard and said, "Did you
say kill it, Miss Kate?"
"Yes, honey," responded Miss Kate sleepily.
Lilimay stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed with horror at the thing
demanded of her, but with no thought of disobedience.
"Hurry up, honey, them chickens worry me most to death," came the voice
from the front room.
With great tears rolling down her cheeks, Lilimay gathered the lame chick
in her arms and slipped out of the back door with the first great burden
of personal sorrow weighing her slim shoulders down.
In her little blue print dress and bare feet she sought the remotest spot
of the yard and set about to plan in her small mind the most humane way
to kill (as she understood Miss Kate) the chicken.
She decided finally upon the plan of pitching the chicken up in the air,
closing her eyes tightly to avoid the sight, and sticking the forefinger
of the unused hand in one ear to deaden the sound of its falling upon
the ground.
The first attempt was a painful failure, painful to both child and chick,
but it must be done, so she bravely clinched her teeth, closed her eyes
and tried again, this time being successful.
After a paroxysm of grief at the cruelty of the whole procedure, her
imaginative mind began planning a suitable funeral. Aunt Kate had
allowed her to wear a second best hair ribbon that day, but feeling
responsible for the chick's death she felt it none too good for a
shroud, so wrapping the chick in it and getting the dog and cat for
mourners, the funeral was conducted with all the dignity that eight
years of life could give to one-half hour of grief. Singing softly,
walking slowly down the path, she buried it in a hole dug with the
butcher knife.
Just as the little mound was rounded off Miss Kate appeared at the door
calling, "Lilimay, Lilimay, where is the chicken?"
"Here it is," sobbed she, as loud as grief would let her. "Miss Kate, I
buried it after I killed it."
"Kilt it, chile; why, what did you do that for?"
Looking mournfully indignant, Lilimay replied, "Why, Miss Kate, didn't
you tell me to kill it?"
A great light broke in upon Miss Kate, but having no idea of the agony
Lilimay had suffered, she unfeelingly broke into a hearty laugh.
"Laws, honey, I didn't say to kill it, I said kiver it; I forgot you
might not understand. I say 'kiver' what you says 'cover,' honey, but no
matter, we won't mind one little chicken, but I'se sorry for you. I know
you hated to do it."
'Twas this last understanding sentence that saved the day for her with
Lilimay, and once more placed her upon the high pinnacle, whence she had
fallen upon giving such a seemingly heartless command to the little
girl.
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ALGIERS
WILLIAM A. HUNTON. JR.
LET us take a short day's outing, you and me, to
the northern coast of Africa,—to Algiers, the Mecca of northern Africa.
Let us see how these distant neighbors of ,ours, in reality our own
brothers and sisters, live and look upon life. In short, let us learn
something about the Algerians.
At first it looks like a sparkling diamond set in an emerald frame, then
it takes the shape of a white dove nestling upon a green bank. Finally,
as we draw nearer, we discern tier upon tier of dwellings reaching
seemingly endlessly towards the sky, bathed in pure white by the morning
sun, and surrounded by innumerable vineyards and olive groves. And at
the foot, hardly distinguishable through a fog of sails and riggings of
a thousand little fishing boats, we see our goal, a modern granite quay,
reaching out to meet us. We have reached Algiers.
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Is it possible that this quiet, unpretentious little port can be the same
which has commanded such a unique place in history from the Roman
conquest up to the recent World War? Is it possible that this peaceful
place could have been the haven of the Moorish pirates during those
none-too-distant years when the "Black Flag" ruled the waves? What
innumerable secrets must this little speck of life contain! But this is
no time for such reveries, for the noisy, jerkey donkey-engine is
beginning to unload our baggage, and it is time to go ashore—to enter
Algiers.
ON landing, we are overwhelmed by a mob of chattering, gesticulating
porters who almost tear us to pieces in an effort to get possession of
our luggage. A burly Arabian is finally the victor and with torn collars
and trampled hats we follow at his heels to a waiting hansom —our first
generous welcome over. Our journey to the hotel is a series of ascents
from one terrace to another. As we climb higher and higher, the houses
become more and more habitable. Finally we arrive at the French hotel,
situated on the uppermost level. We deposit our luggage, change into
cooler clothing, and partake of some refreshments. Everything about us
has an air of hospitality and cordiality.
Towards afternoon, when the shadows begin to lengthen a little, we
venture out again into the streets with an Arabian guide named
Mohammed-ben-Ishmal (all Arabians have Mohammed stuck in somewhere
through their names). We wander down through nameless alleys, hardly
wide enough for two, and past numberless houses. It is all a turning,
twisting, endless tangle, in which no stranger dares enter without a
guide. There are women, young and old, in flowing white robes and silken
veils or "adjars" hiding all but their eyes. And there are men in white,
woolen breeches and shirts, and with huge many-colored turbans upon
their heads. All seem to be doing nothing in particular and thinking of
nothing at all. Everything seems to have an air of hidden secrets and
mysteries. We finally come to the city-gate, an archway six feet wide
connecting four thoroughfares, and standing on one side, our eyes almost
burst with the sights that greet us.
Our guide tells us that everybody and everything passes under this arch
and he certainly is right. Fish-mongers with big baskets of sardines and
some sort of huge, slimy, slippery fish ; Moorish peddlers of calico,
cotton and other goods, screaming some unintelligible words at the top
of their voices ; donkeys laden down with baskets of fresh, fragrant
roses for sale, followed immediately by two-wheeled carts full of
garbage from the streets ; pretty little girls skipping past with pans of
dough upon their heads, going to the public ovens ; groups of little
boys eating raw carrots and artichokes and having a good time in
general, and so on in one long, continuous stream. Opposite us is an
"Inglesy" with an easel, trying to get a sketch of the arch. He is
getting along nicely with his drawing when a blind Moor walks
unceremoniously over easel, paints, brushes and all, saying simply,
"Balek !" (Out of the way !), and on he goes as unconcerned as ever.
BEN-ISHMAL next takes us to see some of the shops. Most of them are
nothing but pretenses at stores. One little stall has a half- dozen tiny
bags of charcoal, a pair of feathers which were once white, an
assortment of old greasy rags, and a thick coat of dust for sale, all
supported upon a counter of dirty oil-cans and boxes. The proprietor
sits in a heap on the floor beside his wares, sleeping continuously,
waking only to eat a date, a crust of mouldy bread, or some sour milk
occasionally. The Algerians, exclusive of the Jews, take little interest
in business. Their shops are mere centres of gossip, like our own rural
stores, and serve only as an excuse for an occupation. They have a fixed
price on their goods and the customer either buys or doesn't buy the
goods at that price; it makes no difference to the Algerian merchant. On
the other hand, the Jews and Assyrians, who own the larger shops, will
haggle a whole day over the price of a half-yard of calico, and will
eventually sell the goods even at one-tenth of its set price.
For fear that we may miss the afternoon promenade on the Place du
Gouvernement, Ben-Ishmal hurries us off to this quaint little square. It
is the nearest approach to our own cities that we have seen yet. Beneath
the border of trees along the curb are lines of cabs and buses to be
hired. Rich Jews and poor Jews, sheiks and thalebs, women with babies on
their backs, beggars and happy children, all walk along the
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same avenue. Ragged little urchins perform
stunts in the street for an occasional sou which is thrown at them. This
ever-changing parade, with the staid government buildings as a
background, furnishes a deep source of interest to us.
However, we cannot tarry for we are to take dinner with the guide's
family and must not be late. Mohammed-Ben-Ishmal lives about midway up
the bank of terraces, and so is of the middle class of society. From the
outside his house looks like a huge white pill-box with a wooden door
and tiny barred windows built into it. Instead of using the iron knocker
on the door, our host hammers his knuckles out on the hard wood, a
custom among these people. Finally a yell rewards our patience, and a
little greasy boy opens the door timidly. We enter a large, dimly-lit
room furnished with a few chairs and a bare table. . We do not stop
here, however, as Ben-Ishmal leads us through another door into a
beautiful little open court in the center of which a fountain plays
merrily. After a while we are joined by the wife, more heavily veiled
than ever, the boy who admitted us, and his sister, a beautiful little
girl.
Our meal begins. We sit beside the cool fountain around a small table,
and are served by a pretty little Moorish maid. We feel just as if we
had been born in Algeria and that this was our family, and there are no
formalities whatever. Our first course consists of mince pie, minus its
sweetness and cooked in pure olive oil. The guide and his family set to
it immediately with their fingers, but we, after a long, intricate
explanation, secure some forks and spoons for our use, much to the
disgust of our friends—they say it spoils the taste. Next comes
"couscous," the regular dish of northern Africa. This is a combination
of bits of meat and vegetables covered over with a thick crust and
somewhat similar to our own beef pie. The final course consists of
serpent cake, a soft, rich pastry filled with nuts, sweet meats, and
spices; a real treat, followed by fruit, dates and Arab coffee. We
praise the hostess for the excellent repast and receive from the depths
of her dark eyes, a reply of gratitude.
DURING the meal we have tried to gain a bit of information from the boy,
but it has required a good deal of scolding from the father and coaxing
from us to overcome his shyness. He finally tells us in little snatches
about his school life. He is now learning to read and write the Koran,
but when he is a little older, he hopes to enter the Lyceum, that great
French institution where white and black learn side by side. He shows us
with pride the little slate upon which he writes and explains that it is
not really slate but hardwood rubbed with pipe clay until it is as
smooth as glass.
Unlike her bashful brother, Fathma, the little girl, is quite ready to
talk. Like all the little daughters of her clime, she possesses a rare
and distinct beauty which is at once soft and elusive. Large, dark,
wistful eyes ; a small Grecian nose; tempting little red lips—all her
features are perfect, and her body too is well proportioned and
graceful. Along with all these virtues there is naturally a bit of
coquetishness. She tells us in simple little French phrases of the life
of an Algerian girl—of its hours of work and hours of play. She
pictures to us an Algerian shop filled with rows of little girls singing
merrily while their tiny fingers swiftly dart in and out between threads
which will soon be beautiful rugs. Fathma proudly shows us a wonderfully
embroidered piece of silk which she has made after much painstaking
labor.
It appears from her conversation that the life of the Algerian girl is
quite different from our own. Up to the age of nine or ten, the daughter
leads a care-free life. except for the occupations of weaving and
sewing, but at this period the girl must don her "adjar" and assume the
air of maturity. When the childish age of twelve is reached, the maiden
is usually married and henceforth is occupied with the care of her home
and children. This sort of life converts the girl into a woman so
quickly that by the age of thirty the pitiful creature is worn and
old.
We could sit and listen for hours to this quaint story of a hidden race
from the lips of this girl, but time passes quickly and we must return
to our hotel. The shadows have lengthened considerably and by the time
we have reached our haven, dusk has fallen.
AFTER a cool, refreshing bath we go out on the balcony and rest our weary
bones in comfortable wicker chairs. What an inspiring scene! On our
left, in a large garden, a royal banquet is in progress. Men of affairs
and
brownies.192109.013.jpg
their wives and friends, both foreign and native, are
dancing on the lawn beneath a canopy of nodding Japanese lamps. Now and
then, snatches of soft music float up to us on the evening breeze. Above
us are myriads of twinkling stars and in the center, the new moon. Below
us, as above, are numerous little lights— some stationary and some
moving. There is a sort of an irregular staircase of them leading down
to a double row of lights in a straight line. They undoubtedly denote
the terraces descending down to the boulevard along the quay. Beyond the
boulevard are the waving, twinkling red, white and green lights of the
ships. All is silent save for the occasional strains of music which
sound as from another world.
Algeria sleeps!
brownies.192109.013.jpg
A STRAWBERRY SURPRISE
MAUD WILCOX NIEDERMEYER
Betty and Jean were playing house on the front
porch one fine day in June, when Betty suddenly exclaimed:
"I'm tired of dolls and toys! Let us go for a walk."
Jean tied the baby's bonnet strings carefully and then kissed the pretty,
pink cheeks.
"I don't like walking unless you're walking to get somewhere or
something," she said, thoughtfully. "Now grandma has been talking about
wild strawberry jam. I heard her say that it was time the wild
strawberries were ripe, and—"
"Just the thing!" shouted Betty, jumping up.
"Hush," warned Jean, putting her finger to her lips. "Let us surprise
her. She can't go out and hunt for them herself, so we'll do that
part."
Betty was throwing her toys into the doll's carriage and rushing about to
straighten up her side of the porch. "There's just heaps of wild berries
in the woods back of the Beardsley lot," she whispered.
Jean ran around to the back porch for baskets. Ned, her brother, was
there, whittling a stick.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"It's a secret," replied Jean. "You mustn't tell. We're going for wild
strawberries so that grandma can make jam."
"Whoo-pee!" shouted Ned, springing to his feet. "Guess I'll go along,
too."
"We didn't want to be bothered with a boy," said Jean, crossly. "But if
Betty is willing, I don't care."
Ned grabbed the baskets and rushed ahead. Betty was sitting on the bottom
step, waiting. "Any objection to my joining the party?" asked Ned,
twirling a basket on the tips of his fingers.
Betty hesitated. Then she replied: "Not if you will carry the baskets.
Then I can take my red parasol."
The little people were soon on their way, laughing and chattering about
their surprise for grandma.
The woods, to which they were going, extended along the far end of the
Beardsley lot for some quarter of a mile. The "lot" as the children
called it, was really a very large and fine pasture for cows. When they
started to cross it, a cow looked up from her grazing and sauntered over
toward them.
"Look, quick!" cried Betty. "She's coming right for us."
brownies.192109.014.jpg
And those dreadful horns!" wailed Jean. "All our fun's spoiled."
"Aw, she won't hurt you," said Ned, bravely. "It's Betty's red parasol
that she likes."
The three children started back for the road. Several cows started at the
same time.
"What shall we do?" cried Jean, panting, when they had reached the other
side of the fence.
Nobody answered for several minutes. Betty tucked her parasol under her
arm.
"I've got it!" exclaimed Ned, scratching his head. "I'll climb that tree
there in the pasture and wave the parasol at the cows. Then you girls
scoot across."
"Fine!" cried Jean, taking the baskets from him_
"Don't you drop my parasol," warned Betty, handing it to Ned a little
doubtfully.
"Never!" promised Ned.
The next moment he had darted into the pasture and was climbing a tree.
"All right," he shouted, waving to the girls.
Away they fled. It was some distance across the pasture, but they never
looked back until they had reached the woods. When they did, they fairly
gasped to see Ned at their very heels.
"Mercy, how you scared us!" cried Betty. "And where's my parasol?"
Ned rolled on the ground and laughed. "You didn't think that I was going
to stay stuck up in that tree, did you?" He rolled over again, laughing
heartily. "I tied the parasol to a limb where the cows could see it, and
ran."
The hunt for berries began. Grandma had been right, for they were just
ripe. Eagerly the little people worked.
"My basket's full!" shouted Betty.
"Mine will be in a minute," said Jean.
"Shucks!" grunted Ned, cramming his berries into his mouth as fast as he
could pick them.
"You horrid boy!" the girls exclaimed when they saw him. But they filled
his basket, too.
Ned rescued the parasol on the way home, and the three tired children
tramped into the kitchen with their baskets.
"Bless your dear hearts!" cried grandma, from her wheel chair. "Such a
surprise! Now we shall have some fine jam." Her eyes twinkled and she
nodded her head toward the pantry. "Let me see, the cookies are in
there. Go, help yourselves."
brownies.192109.014.jpg
FRIENDS IN THE NIGHT
MAUD WILCOX NIEDERMEYER
BILLY BUMPS was afraid of the dark. After mother
had tucked the covers around him, had kissed him good-night, and had
gone from the room, leaving the door open just a crack, such strange
things seemed to happen. All by himself, in the little white bed in the
big square room, Billy Bumps' mind played such queer tricks!
The dim light in the hall crept into the room and made the doorway appear
as a big, long- drawn-out yarn. Goblins and ghosts flitted about in the
shadows. The closet became a den of thieves and at the first movement of
the stiff little body in the bed, the door would spring open and out
would pop horrid men. The brass knobs on the bed posts were sleeping
lions, ready to waken the little fellow, if he moved a toe.
The rain splashed upon the window-sill and at once a whole army seemed to
be marching in upon him. Poor Billy Bumps! What could he do against such
a host of enemies?
A board creaked. Cold shivers crept along his spine and his teeth began
to chatter. The grandfather clock in the hall struck one. It sounded to
the little boy like the voice of a giant.
But not for worlds would he have called for his mother or father! He must
be a hero. He tried to think of some brave thing he had done that day,
but the night seemed the only proper time for brave deeds. Could he be
brave now, and if so, how?
He longed to have the puppy in bed with him. What a friend he would
prove! Well, why not make a friend of the sleeping lion? The more Billy
Bumps thought about it, the
brownies.192109.015.jpg
better he liked it.
After all, the rain wasn't a really, truly approaching army. Instead, he
had two friends on the window sill, Pitter and Patter; and they kept up
a continual chatter with him, first Pit- ter and then Patter.
The creaking board was a Brownie that just couldn't keep still and every
time he jumped or danced, he squeaked with delight. Billy Bumps began to
chuckle to himself. What hosts of friends he had in the night.
The grandfather clock began striking again, not once, but nine times.
Instead of having two grandfathers, he had nine! How wonderful! Was ever
a little boy as lucky as he?
Then, right out of the closet popped a funny little man. He had sandy
hair and sandy eyebrows and his clothes were sandy, too. He sprinkled
sand all about. Billy Bumps was so tickled that he smiled and smiled;
and the little man smiled and smiled.
Billy Bumps wanted him to come nearer to the bed, so he called out just
as loud as he could. But the little man didn't seem to hear, for he went
on scattering sand and nodding and smiling. Billy Bumps was so happy and
contented that he closed his eyes. The funny part of it was that he
could still see the little man.
It was so warm and comfy in bed that the nicest feeling began to creep
over him. He stretched a little and opened his mouth to yawn. Then he
nearly forgot to close it, for he was drifting away, away, far away ;
and the little man was fading, fading. Pitter and Patter were silent;
the lion never did wake up; and the Brownie forgot his dance. The
Sandman faded away entirely and in the hush of the big room, peace and
quiet reigned. Billy Bumps slept.
brownies.192109.015.jpg
Good-Morning
C.LESLIE FRAZIER
GOOD-morning!
My! You look surprised! And
yawning?
Ooooh, and such red eyes!
Head all tousled;
Tight little fists;
Tears from yawning
Must be kissed.
Want me to hug you?
My! My! My!
Sure I'll hug you—
Now stifle that sigh. Yawning again?
Are you sleepy yet? Are you going to laugh,
Or going to fret?
My, my, you're nodding—
Wake up, for 'tis day—
Hop up and let's hustle
Downstairs to your play.
That's right! You're laughing:
Ha-ha! That's fine—
Ten scratching fingers,
All going at one time;
And ten little toes,
All squirming so shocking—
Please be still,
Let me put on your stocking.
Hold that face still
While I wash it, you scamp,
Would you let it stay dirty
And look like a
tramp?
My, you're fidgety,
And that laugh is contagious—
You've got me laughing
In a way that's outrageous.
Now you have your clothes on,
So downstairs
we'll go,
Where you'll greet the big people
Who're loving you so.
Then they'll all go to work
And leave us at home
To romp and play—
You and I all alone.
All alone.
All alone.
brownies.192109.016.jpg
THE JUDGE
COME into the library," Wilhelmina whispers
mysteriously to the Judge, "somebody wants to see you."
They walk in arm and arm to find William, Billy, Billikins, and two or three
other children of the neighborhood waiting.
Wilhelmina strikes an attitude. "Dear children, we have with us today the
distinguished visitor, Judge of 'The Brownies', who will now address you on
the subject of Africa."
"I see I'm in for it," the Judge says, not at all unwillingly, "but you know
there's nothing I'd rather do in all the world than talk to you about that.
Now where was I to begin?"
"With books," William reminds him. "Don't you recall you were going to tell
us what to read ?"
"Oh, yes, it comes back to me now. I was telling you last time about three
books, 'The Bantu—Past and Present', by S. M. Molema ; 'Africa : Slave or
Free?', by John H. Harris, and 'Songs and Tales from the Dark Continent',
arranged by Natalie Curtis. Which do you want to hear of first?"
"The Bantam," says Billikins, eagerly. "I had a little rooster once. My, but
he could fight!" The others stare at him in amazement.
"What in the world—" begins Billy.
"He thought I said Bantam," the Judge explains kindly, "whereas I was
speaking of the Bantu, the name of a group of people."
"Of a particular tribe, isn't it?" asks William. 'I know I've read a lot
about them."
"No, it isn't the name of a particular tribe, although most people just like
you seem to think so. It is such errors as this that Mr. Molema corrects in
his book, and that is the reason why I am especially anxious to have you
read it."
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean when you speak of a 'group' of
people," says Gertrude, one of the neighborhood children.
"Come out on the porch and I'll explain. Now is everybody happy?"
The Judge continues solemnly, "The name 'Bantu' refers to a whole racial
group of Africans, very much as the term 'Indian' refers to a whole group
here in the United States, and yet we speak of the 'Choctaw,' the
'Iroquois,' the 'Sioux' and so forth.
"The man who wrote this book belongs to the Bantu group himself, so it is
only reasonable to believe that he knows what he's talking about. He shows
that the Bantus are a finely developed people with a culture and a
civilization which, while not as far advanced as ours, is as good as ours
was when we were at their stage and which certainly suits them and the
country in which they live.
"Mr. Harris' book is very informing. He tells all about Liberia, the Negro
Republic and about its resources. It is a very rich country— but almost
every part of Africa is rich—and abounds in mahogany and gums, scented
woods, wild rubber and vegetable oils."
"I really believe I'll go there when I grow up," says William, dreaming to
himself. "I'm going to write to Cornell today to see about the requirements
for engineering."
"What I'm always crazy to know," Wilhelmina interrupts, "is how the people
live, what they have to eat, what they say to each other, what games they
play, what they do at their parties and how they make love—that is if they
do make love."
"As of course they do. Then what you must read is the book which Miss Curtis
has compiled. You see she didn't really write it herself, she just put down
the stories and legends, folk-tales and accounts which Kamba Simango of
Portuguese East Africa and Madikane Qandeyana Cele of Zululand gave her. It
has lots of illustrations and it is in the library on my desk. I'll show it
to you when I go in. Why where you all going?"
For all of them, including the grown-up Wilhelmina, have started off on a mad
rush into the house. "All of us want the picture-book," someone's voice
comes floating back, you know it's first come, first served."
brownies.192109.017.jpg
[illustration - OUR LITTLE FRIENDS ]
brownies.192109.018.jpg
LAFAYETTE AND THE DARK RACES
LILLIE BUFFUM CHACE WYMAN
Part II
LAFAYETTE was in Europe when the final treaty of
peace was signed in 1782, and England thereby renounced her sovereignty in
the United States. He joyously sent a special ship to America. It carried
his letters and arrived there before tidings of the peace had come in any
other way. One of his letters was to George Washington, personally. It was
full of love for, and pride in, his great friend, but it also contained this
significant passage : "Now that you are to taste a little repose, permit me
to propose to you a plan that may become vastly useful to the black portion
of the human race. Let us unite in buying a little property where we can try
to enfranchise the Negroes and employ them merely as farm laborers."
As history lets us know, Washington did not do what Lafayette
suggested,—more's the pity! But he did free his slaves by his will, and it
does seem possible, if not probable, that Lafayette's influence had
something to do with his determination not to be himself directly
responsible for the reduction to slavery of unborn generations of his
fellow-beings.
Lafayette began the work in which Washington did not take part. He bought an
estate in French Guiana, where he treated the Negroes as free men. He did
everything he could think of for their good, and spent his money freely for
their welfare. His wife co-operated with him in his efforts. She sent
teachers for these Negroes and tried to promote their moral life.
Unfortunately the French Revolution, which did so much good as well as so
much evil, did only evil as to Lafayette's experiment in emancipation and
civilization. The Revolutionary government confiscated Lafayette's property,
seized these freed people and made slaves of them again. He was never a rich
man after his losses by this confiscation. He could no longer carry on large
schemes of benevolence. But his interest in the improvement in agriculture
and of rural life in France continued.
The defeat of his own effort at emancipation did not lessen his intense
desire for the freedom of the black race. After Washington died, he
corresponded now and then with James Madison. Letters about slavery passed
between them in 1820, and in 1821 he wrote on the subject again to Madison,
characterizing the evil institution as a blot upon American civilization.
When he made his visit to this country in 1824, he was grieved and shocked to
find that race prejudice had increased since his earlier visits. He
remembered in what a friendly fashion white and black soldiers had messed
together during our Revolution, and was pained by the moral deterioration
which white America had suffered in this respect.
It is probable that Lafayette, like all the other prominent Abolitionists
before Garrison's day, favored the gradual rather than the immediate
emancipation of "the blacks",—as the French call persons of African descent.
"Les Noirs" is their term.
In his later years, Lafayette talked a great deal about emancipation so that
his friend and physician, Jules Clognet, spoke with authority when he said
that this great friend of the whole human race feared that if a large body
of uneducated people, who had been taken from foreign and savage conditions
and enslaved, were immediately set free, they would not know how to manage
their lives, and "despotism" would take advantage of all their mistakes and
their faults and practically re-enslave them.
"But," says Dr. Clognet, "in Lafayette's opinion, the greater the
difficulties that impeded the abolition of slavery, the more energetic
should be the zeal, the more persevering the efforts of the genuine
philanthropist to obtain so honorable a result ; and he saw with pain that
paltry considerations of interest paralyzed the hearts of some who might
have given a decided impulse to Negro emancipation."
An emancipation society of the period in America conferred membership on
Lafayette. It supported a school in New York for colored children. Lafayette
visited many public schools in that city, but this was the one he cared most
about. When he went to see it a little Negro boy went up and made a speech
to him, and told him how the children in that school knew about him, and how
they loved him.
Lafayette and La Rochefoucauld worked together and "during their whole life
sustained
brownies.192109.019.jpg
[illustration - The Negro Boy Welcomes Lafayette ]
brownies.192109.020.jpg
at their joint expense, before the French
tribunals, all trials entered into by Negroes for the recovery of their
freedom."
France, as we know, abolished slavery in her dependencies, as did England,
long before the institution was legally destroyed in America.
He wrote to ex-President Madison in 1825 or 1826 concerning a plan for
gradual emancipation which Frances Wright had attempted to put in practice
in Tennessee. Madison replied, confessing that notwithstanding Lafayette's
"distance" from the scene he knew more about Miss Wright and her work than
he himself did.
In 1830, Madison wrote to Lafayette, saying that the old Frenchman's
"anticipations" as to the effect of slavery in this country "were the
natural offspring of your just principles and laudable sympathies".
Lafayette's principles and sympathies were always just and laudable. Colored
Americans have as much reason as white ones to think of him as their hero
and their champion.
It was said of him that, unlike most prominent men of his period, he looked
"upon the human race not as cards to be played for one's own profit, but as
an object of sacred devotion." The saying was true as to him, whatever it
may have been as to other men. For he did stand out pre-eminent in his eager
disinterestedness.
One of his distinguishing characteristics was that he did not lose interest
in a cause when he learned that some of its adherents were unworthy. He was,
moreover, so generous-hearted that he did not always expect other people to
make sacrifices even for their own ultimate good,—he merely gave for that
object what they hesitated to give. Thus he pledged his own private means to
furnish overcoats to the American army, in case the American government did
not foot the bill, as American tailors shrank from providing the garments
until assured of final payment.
During his last visit to the United States, Congress passed a bill to grant
Lafayette two hundred thousand dollars and "twenty-four thousand acres of
fertile land in Florida". This gift was really due him. He had refused
payment for his services in the Revolution, and now was a poor man.
But twenty-six members of Congress opposed the grant. Some voted against it
because it was an "unusual appropriation". Others had a fantastic notion
that, as money could not equal the moral worth of his action, none should be
offered him. Everybody else in the country favored the bill, and Lafayette
sensibly accepted, in his age, what he had refused in the days of his youth
and wealth.
The opponents felt troubled by their own conduct, and some of them went to
him to explain their motives. He grasped their hands cordially, and, with
quick sympathy, touched by his keen sense of humor, he exclaimed, "My dear
friends, I assure you it would have been different had I been a member of
Congress. There would not have been twenty-six objectors—there would have
been twenty-seven."
He had survived his wife for over twenty years when on the twentieth of May,
1834, as he lay dying—"he appeared to wake and to search for something on
his breast. His son put into his hands the miniature of Adrienne that he
always wore. He had strength to raise it to his lips, then sank into
unconsciousness from which he passed into the sleep of death."
Thus lived, worked and loved Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette.
brownies.192109.020.jpg
INTER—ASSOCIATION TRACK AND FIELD MEET, Y. W. C. A. GIRLS
T HE first annual Inter-Association track and field
meet for Y. W. C. A. girls in Jersey was held at Glenfield Park, Montclair,
N. J., on June 11. The associations having entries were Brooklyn, N. Y., and
Orange and Montclair, N. J. There were over eighty entries distributed among
the three classes—Class A for girls over 110 pounds; Class B, between 90 and
110; and Featherweights, under 90.
The meet was won by Montclair, Orange was second, and Brooklyn a poor third.
The Jersey girls far outclassed the Brooklyn girls in every respect except
gameness. Under the existing agreement, Montclair retains possession of the
brownies.192109.021.jpg
[illustration - Orange, N.J., Y.W.C.A. Girls. ] silver trophy cup for one year at which time it is to be placed
again in competition. To keep the cup permanently, an association must win
it three times.
T h e individual prize awarded to the girl winning the largest number of
points went to Emma Tillery, of Orange. Tillery took first place in the
broad jump with a leap of 13 feet 11 inches—a jump nearly 18 inches beyond
her nearest competitor. She has been a tower of strength during the past
season on the Orange basketball team.
The events on the program included 50 and 100 yard dashes; 440 and 880 yard
relays; 440 yard and 1/6-mile runs ; running broad and high jumps. These
events were open to all girls except the "featherweights" for whom
special events were run off—a 50-yard dash and a 220-yard relay.
The Montclair association was most cordial in its hospitality and
entertainment of the visiting teams. It is the hope of the Athletic
Committee to have more associations enter next year, particularly those
within a short radius.
ANNIE LAURIE MCCARY, Physical Director,
Ashland Place Branch Y. W. C. A., Brooklyn.
brownies.192109.021.jpg
THE JURY
I AM eight years old and I live in Alabama. I am in
the second grade and I am very fond of my teacher. Some times she reads us
stories out of THE BROWNIES' BOOK. She said that if any of us ever wrote a
story real nicely, she would send it to the editor of THE BROWNIES. My
father has a big automobile and sometimes he takes my mother and me for a
ride. My father is a doctor and he is very busy. When I get big I am going
to be a doctor, too, and my sister is going to be a nurse. I have a pony and
a cart, which I drive myself. I go to the store for my mother in it some
times. I go out to my aunt's in it, because they don't let colored people
ride on the front of the cars here. Papa says it's not that way in New York.
Why isn't it? He said I should ask you.
J. CLARICE BOND,
Birmingham, Alabama.
I LIVE in the Philippines, but I have an aunt in the United States, and some
times she sends me magazines. Last time she sent me a number of THE
BROWNIES' BOOK. I was very pleased and delighted. I showed it to my teacher
and friends. We had never seen a magazine with pictures of pretty colored
children in it. I have told my aunt that I should like all THE BROWNIES'
BOOKS I could get. I am eleven years old and am in the sixth grade.
MINNIE V. KELLY,
Philippine Islands.
brownies.192109.022.jpg
I WANT to tell you about Ted. Ted is our little dog.
He came to us from Charlotte, N. C. Our Uncle Strieby sent him on the train.
We went to the express office on Sunday, because mother said that it would
be cruel to leave him hungry until Monday. He had not come yet, but came on
Monday. We were so glad to see him, but he did not like us. He loved Baby
first, but now he loves us all and tried to bite mother when she had to
punish us. Ted is white and has one brown ear. He is part poodle. Mother
washes him, but he is very dirty now. If any strange person comes on our
porch, Ted will bark and let mother know. He likes to ride in autos. He will
bark at any horse. A horse stepped on his foot. It was sore. A horse kicked
at him and a man threw his whip at him. Sometimes he slips off and goes to
church with us. He has good manners, but some children are afraid of him.
Mother had the picture made so I could send you one. Don't you think Ted is
cunning? We do. My little sister and my little brother and I are all trying
to be kind to dumb animals. We love them, too. From a little boy,
EDWARD MITCHELL (AGE 6)
Chattanooga, Tenn.
I AM a very little girl, so my sister is writing
this for me. I like THE BROWNIES' BOOK very much and every month, when it is
time for it to come, I run out to the mail box to look for it. Then my
sister reads me the stories. I like to look at the pictures, too. Mama says
I can go to school next year and learn to read THE BROWNIES' BOOK myself.
Then I will write you again and tell you about my pony and dog. I live on a
farm and every morning I feed the chickens.
MADALEN TAYLOR,
Thatcher, Colorado.
I AM nine years old and I live on a ranch in Texas. I
haven't ever been to school but my mama used to be a teacher and she teaches
me every day. She says that when I get a little bigger she is going to send
me to boarding school. I think I shall like that. My big sister is away
working. Last year she graduated from college. My father has lots of horses
and cows. I like to read stories and letters about the ocean. I have never
seen the ocean, but my mama says[illustration - Edward Mitchell and "Ted" ] that some day she will take me down to Galveston, where my
grandmother lives. My mama used to live there and she says that there is
water all around it. I have a geography which came from New York, and I
looked up Galveston on the map. Now I must close. I am going to ask my
mother to let me ride to the town to mail this. I learned to ride when I was
seven.
GEORGE L. WHITTAKER,
Skidmore, Texas.
I LIVE in Florida and my house is right down by the
sea. One of our boats has two oars and the other runs by motor. We have a
big yard with lots of flowers. It never gets very cold here and we wear
white dresses most of the time. I have a brother ; he is two years younger
than I am. I am seven, but I will be eight in August. My brother and I have
two rabbits apiece. Mine are white with black spots. Sometimes we let them
out on the grass, but we have to watch them very closely, so they won't fall
in the water. One day one of my brother's rabbits fell in the water and my
father had to swim after it. It wasn't drowned though.
MAYME F. ANDERSON,
Jacksonville, Florida.
brownies.192109.023.jpg
THE KOLA
COLONEL CHARLES YOUNG
A FRICA has many nut-bearing plants and trees. Among
these is the ground-nut, which is known in our country, the United States,
as the peanut. In Africa, thousands of tons of these nuts are raised and
exported to Europe for making both edible and lubricating oils. The
ground-nut is roasted in Africa and used for making a very acceptable soup.
A "ground-nut chop" well seasoned, into which hard-boiled eggs are put,
constitutes a fine Sunday dinner among both civilized and native
peoples.
Then there is the oil-palm nut which is refined and sent abroad for food.
Much of our butter, both here and in Europe, Is made from this oil-palm nut.
The oil-palm tree bears a kind of nut after the fashion of a bunch of
bananas. Each nut is enclosed in a sheath containing oil which surrounds a
kernel, itself having a fine white oily meat, which, when crushed, yields a
still finer grade of oil very similar to that coming from the meat of the
cocoanut.
But the most precious of nuts comes from the Kola tree. These nuts are seldom
sent out of Africa, for, when eaten, they take away fatigue from the
traveler and furnish him strength upon the weary way, at the same time being
thirst and hunger killers. These nuts, in the regions where the tree does
not grow, command a very high price and are much sought after by the
natives. By the way, our Coco Cola of the drug stores in the United States
does not come from this kola nut.
The kola nut has many social uses in Africa ; for example, if a traveler
staying all night in a town should chance to find a red kola nut in the
water brought him for his bath, this would be secret warning from a friend
that danger is near him ; to be on guard. A white kola nut in the bath is
either a sign of friendship or an offering to the Great God-Spirit. No
African man offers a white kola nut and then betrays the one to whom he
gives it.
Nothing can be more beautiful than to see the kola groves in bloom at
Dolasan, on the far off Liberian Hinterland.
The following rhyme on the kola tree is offered to BROWNIES' BOOK readers by
a lover of his little black and brown brothers both in Africa and
America.
THE KOLA TREE
Take your gleaming cutlass blade, With heart and arm a-thrill,
Go into the forest shade
And swing it with a will;
Fell bush and bough at liberty, But never cut a kola tree!
REFRAIN
Never cut the kola tree,
Sign of Trust and Friendship free ;
It stands for Peace on land and sea,
So never cut a kola tree!
In the fragrant kola grove,
Mid leaves and blossoms bright,
Peace and Friendship ever rose
In search of kolas white,
Which "far more precious than the red Are given,
not sold." Sadana said.
brownies.192109.024.jpg
Little People of the Month
ARTHUR WORLINGTON SAUNDERS, JR., of Plainfield, N,
J., is three months old ; however, he wears clothing for a child two years
of age. When he was one day old he became one of our subscribers.
At the Brockton, Mass., High School, Mildred Turner was chosen to write the
class ode. By the election she achieved a signal honor for her race, since
she is the first Negro to win this distinction at the school.
Harry Chappelle is a junior in the Douglas High School at Huntington, W. Va.
He has been interested in athletics throughout h i s high school course. At
the State High School Track Meet, in May, he won two cups. His best records
are h i s standing high jump, which is six feet, and his running broad jump,
which is 21 feet 4 inches.
Harry is an affable boy, and ran second among the boys in a popularity
contest. He is very courteous to everybody. This summer he is employed at
the Chesapeake Ohio Railway shops, earning money to pay his own school
expenses, even though his parents are living.
Lydia Mason is a young pianist of New York City. The Fisk Society of Greater
New York has awarded her a scholarship to Fisk University, Nashville, Tenn.,
where she will pursue college and special musical courses, covering a period
of five years.
At a very early age Lydia showed a fondness and an aptitude for the piano.
Mr. William J. Carle, her first piano teacher, laid an excellent foundation
for Lydia in technique ; then for seven years she studied under Dr. Beatrice
Eberhard of the Grand Conservatory of Music. When nine years of age Lydia
made her first public appearance, and at twelve she was appearing in
concerts and recitals, as pianist in the Martin-Mason Trio. Miss Mason has
appeared as soloist and accompanist at Aeolian Hall and Carnegie Hall, and
among her numbers have been Gounod's "Faust", Mascagni's "Cavalleria
Rusticana", Flotow's "Martha", Mendelssohn's "Concerto in G Minor"
for pianoforte and orchestra, and Coleridge-Taylor's "Hiawatha's Wedding
Feast".
Since the age of sixteen Lydia has taught private pupils on the piano.
In a class of 244 graduates from the Madison, Wis., High School, Madolene M.
Mosley was the only Negro graduate. She won the highest honors that a girl
can be awarded in athletics and was given honorary recognition in art work,
although she was graduated from a general course. She will attend the
University of Wisconsin, taking a course in pharmacy.
[illustration - Arthur Worlington Saunders, Jr.]
brownies.192109.025.jpg
[illustration - Mildred Turner,Lydia Mason, Harry Chappelle, Madolene M. Mosley]
brownies.192109.026.jpg
PLAYTIME
ORIGINAL PUZZLES
C. LESLIE FRAZIER
HIDDEN NEGRO NOTABLES
[illustration - PLAYTIME]
A LL energetic and ambitious girls and boys will want
to work out these puzzles, and old and young, large and small, will be
greatly benefited by the history which these puzzles teach in their
solutions. Information concerning the progress and fortunes of your race may
some day secure for you a place in the literary world which will bring you
a good price for your knowledge. No nobler vocation could be desired than
passing on to others facts pertaining to the race's accomplishments; so
strive to know your race as other children know theirs, and remember that
tucks and frills do not make pride, but a true knowledge of one's people
does. Anyone who revels in knowing that he knows his people, has much to be
proud of. Study over these puzzles and, right or wrong, answer them,
forwarding same to the Editor by the tenth of October: Send in your own
original puzzles, enclosing with them their answers.
By observing closely, you will find hidden in the paragraph above the
following notables : 1. A bishop. 2. A compiler of an annual book of Negro
data. 3. The highest ranking Negro officer in the army. 4. A pilot of a
Confederate ship who captured the ship and turned it over to the Federals.
5. A noted editor. 6. First Negro preacher to stand in the pulpit of Henry
Ward Beecher. 7. A man called the "matchless drummer” of the Civil War. 8.
First American killed in the Revolutionary War. 9. First Negro to hold the
office of United States Senator. 10. The most beloved of all prize
fighters.
EXAMPLE:-1. All energetic: 10. wrong, answer.
PRINTERS' PI
Rentiw Tweesesns
Gnostaln Guhseh
Eht tilelt useho si raugs,
Sti rofo twih onws si ledip,
Nda
morf ist yitn inwodw,
Eppes a plema-raugs hidlc.
—From Neiwrobs' Okob, Anj.,
1921.
LETTER-WORDS
Place two letters together and make words. 1. To shine forth. 2. Unfinished.
3. A cloth. 4. An engraved stamp for making an impression. 5. To distribute.
6. A green vegetable. 7. The joining of two edges of cloth. 8. Two horses.
9. A vegetable. 10. A snake-like fish. 11. A large town.EXAMPLE:-1. BM
(beam).
ZIGZAG
Each line consists of words of four letters and to zigzag from 1 to 13 will
spell the name of a woman who was a famous underground railroad operator. 1
* * 2 * * 3 * * 4 • 5 • 6 7 * • 8 • * 9 • * * 10 • * 11 * * 12 * * 13 * *
Cross-words: 1. Assist. 2. A companion. 3. To entice: 4. Listen to. 5. A
couple. 6. Cure.
brownies.192109.027.jpg
7. A story. 8. A skin irritation. 9. Loyal. 10. To untangle
hair. 11. A young sheep. 12. More than one. 13. Twelve o'clock in the day.
EXAMPLE :-1. Help. 2. mAte. 3. luRe.
NEGRO HISTORY
1. Who was Lott Carey? 2. Who is Harry T. Burleigh? 3. Who is W. E. B.
DuBois? 4. What bank was awarded first place of all banks in America at the
close of the Third Liberty Loan Drive? 5. What four countries are governed
by Negroes? 6. What is Booker T. Washington's middle name? 7. Where and when
was the first school for freed Negro children opened? 8. Who was Mary S.
Peale? 9. What and who was John Durham? 10. Who was Lunsford Lane? 11. By
whom and when was Haiti discovered? 12. Were "Blind Tom" and "Blind Boone"
the same man ?
A CONUNDRUM
What division of the army would a newly planted tree remind you of?
brownies.192109.027.jpg
THE OSTRICH IN CAPTIVITY
Delphia Phillips
F IRST of all, he is quite happy in his big pen, with
plenty to eat, and no enemies to disturb his peace of mind, unless he gets
into a quarrel with one of his brothers as is shown in one of the pictures.
Then he gets "riled" as is plainly seen. In this remarkable picture the two
excited males appear to be "jawing" one another in a very vigorous
fashion, with wing upraised on the one and lowered on the other, and a foot
drawn back ready to strike. Even the one sitting peacefully on the ground
appears to have his mouth open to join in the dispute.
However, these are very peaceful birds as a rule and, being practically
hand-raised, a r e very tame, following the visitors about with evidence of
the greatest curiosity and the hope of being fed an orange, of which they
are inordinately fond. The sight of the fruit going down the creature's long
neck, as he swallows it, is very amusing. This same curiosity made it very
difficult for the writer to get the snapshots of the big birds that she
desired, because one persistent fellow continually pecked at the buttons on
her coat, or the little mirror on the camera, whose glitter attracted his
attention. No amount of "shooing" had any effect on this bird, for he was
hunting for some nice, hard object to swallow to help him digest the orange
he had just been fed.
The strange birds present a very odd appearance, with their exceedingly long
necks and thighs entirely bare of feathers; yet their movements are graceful
when walking or running. With heads held proudly aloft, they move about with
a light, springy step as if their 300 or even 500 pounds weight were a mere
trifle to carry. An ostrich can run as fast as a horse, and a herd of them
(they are referred to as herds, not flocks), running is a very pleasing
sight.
[illustration - The two excited males appear to be "jawing" one another.]
It is the rule of ostriches to mate for life, and there are no divorces in
brownies.192109.028.jpg the ostrich colony so far as is known. The attendant at the
Pasadena, California, farm asserts that there are some old maids and
bachelors among the ostriches. The big birds get their growth in two years,
but do not lay until four years of age. The average number of eggs is nine,
and the laying season is from February to April. In a wild state, a hole is
made in the sand for the nest, and the male and the female take turns in
sitting on the eggs, the female sitting in daytime and the male taking the
night shift. There is a reason for this, as the female's plumage, being a
sort of dusty gray, is so much like the desert sands in color that she is
not easily detected by a possible enemy, while the male's shiny black
plumage would show off far too well. So the male does his work at night,
when he is not so conspicuous.
But on the ostrich farms the eggs are hatched in incubators, a process which
requires forty-two days. The tiny ostrich does not peck away at his shell
until he makes an opening, as a chick does, but appears to burst the thick
shell by the growing and expanding of his vigorous little body. The bursting
of the shell is shown remarkably well in the picture of young ostriches and
eggs. The shell is almost a quarter of an inch thick and a dull ivory in
color.
The inside of the shell is a beautiful pink, and these are sometimes blown
and converted into lamp globes. The light shining through the porcelain-like
walls is a rosy pink and is very pretty. They are imported as far as
Switzerland, to be converted into these shades.
The baby ostriches are the queerest little objects imaginable. What would be
fuzz on the back of a baby chick, is a sort of excelsior with the
ostrich.
The ostrich raisers do not wait until the plumes ripen and fall out, but clip
them a little before that time, thus getting three crops in two years. As
the regular plume stock does not ripen until a year old, the growers thus
beat nature a trifle, so they say. The feathers are divided into three
classes : the plume, tail and floss stock. The floss, which is very fine and
soft, is used uncurled and is found on the under side of the wing, while the
plume is taken from the upper side. This last, as its name indicates, forms
the beautiful long plumes seen on milady's hats. Fans, boas, muffs and many
other beautiful articles are made from the floss, while the tail stock
furnishes the ostrich tips.
The ostrich eats all sorts of vegetable food, being strictly vegetarian in
his diet, and consumes from five to eight pounds of food per day. His
average length of life is thirty years.
[illustration - His average length of life is 30 years.]
brownies.192109.028.jpg
Autumn Skies
MADELINE G. ALLISON
THE azure breeze
Caressed the leaves,
And gave each flow'r a kiss;
While twinkling stars
Watched o'er our rest,
And crowned our dreams with bliss.
brownies.192109.029.jpg
AS THE CROW FLIES
[illustration - AS THE CROW FLIES]
THOUGH I fly high, high up in the
air, I, the Crow, can see the turmoil of human-folks. But amidst the
prevailing unrest, I can see, here and there, a sign of hope! Caw! Caw!
Caw!
- Several million dollars worth of property in
the Amatlin oil fields, Mexico, has been destroyed by fire.
- The chief of the Soviet delegation, M.
Kergentseff, has handed to the American Chargé d'Affairs a protest against
President Harding's failure to invite Russia to the Pacific Conference, in
Washington.
- An appeal has been made to the International
Red Cross for aid to Russia, where twenty million people are reported to be
facing death from famine and plague.
- A petition has been sent to the League of
Nations by the people of Helgoland, asking for neutralization of the island
under the protection of the League of Nations, or re-annexation to Great
Britain.
- The Communist and Fascisti factions are
fighting in Italy. Over fifty people have been killed. The Fascisti, in
addressing a manifesto to the Italian people, claims merit for having put an
end to "the Bolshevik illusion".
- In killed, wounded, captured, missing and
deserters, the Turkish losses in Asia Minor amount to 75 per cent of her
effectives.
- The Japanese Government has agreed to
participate in the proposed Washington conference on Far-Eastern problems.
Italy and China, also, will be participants.
- According to revised figures, Germany's losses
in the war are 1,792,368 killed and 4,246,874 wounded men. The navy losses,
included in the above figures, are 34,256 killed and 31,085 wounded. In
addition, 200,000 men are still reported as missing.
- Enrico Caruso, the world renowned Italian
tenor, is dead in Naples. He was 49 years old.
- Dr. Nicholas Murray Butler, president of
Columbia University, New York, has laid the cornerstone of the new library
of the University of Louvain. The library is the gift of the American people
to the people of Belgium.
- Arms and munitions factories at Danzig have
been closed by order of the Council of the League of Nations.
- The labor dispute in Kobe, Japan, is marked by
bloody fighting. Drastic measures are being adopted by the Japanese Cabinet
as a means of ending the disturbance.
- In Spain, a wave of military mutinies,
combined with strikes and riots, is in progress. This is a result of the
Spanish defeat in Morocco.
- Signor Denicola, president of the Chamber of
Deputies in Rome, has completed arrangements to bring about peace between
the Socialists and the Extreme Nationalists.
- After a crisis in Allied relations over Upper
Silesia, Premier Lloyd George announces that Great Britain and France are
again in accord.
- The Moscow Bolshevik authorities have accepted
Herbert Hoover's demand—that all Americans held as prisoners be released
before relief for Russian famine sufferers is undertaken by the United
States.
THE ocean breathed thoughts of
courage, as I flew to America! There is much that displeases me
here,—yet I am cheerful, for there are harbingers of
good-will.
- The Senate has passed the Sweet Bill, which
centralizes and coordinates all soldier relief agencies, and establishes one
independent organization—the Veterans' Bureau.
- A resolution to investigate the occupation of
Haiti and San Domingo has been introduced by Senator McCormick of
Illinois.
brownies.192109.030.jpg
- The House Census Committee has agreed upon the
reapportionment legislation for a House of 460 instead of 435
Representatives
- C E. O. Gourdin, a Negro athlete at Harvard
College, has set a new world's record of 25 feet 3 inches in the running
broad jump.
- In 1919, revenue from personal income taxes
amounted to $1,269,000,000, an increase of $141,900,000 over the year
1918
- During June, 29,901 aliens were naturalized.
Of these 6,453 were Germans; 4,014, Austrians; 3,508, Italians; 3,313,
British ; 13, Spanish.
- John A. Gustafson, Chief of Police at Tulsa,
Okla., has been found guilty of having failed to take proper precautions for
public safety during the recent race rioting.
- Charges of conspiracy and embezzlement, in
connection with the interest earnings of the State Treasurer's office, have
been brought against Governor Len Small and Lieutenant- Governor Fred E.
Sterling, of Illinois. The sum involves $2,000,000.
- By a 289-127 vote, the House has passed the
Tariff Bill, which provides for an estimated revenue of $500,000,000
annually. Oil, hides, cotton and asphalt remain on the free list.
- A bill to empower the War Finance Corporation
to aid in the movement of farm exports, has been introduced by Senator
Kellogg.
- Senator Ladd, of North Dakota, has introduced
a resolution providing for a referendum on war.
- President Harding has requested the Public
Health Service and the American Red Cross to arrange relief measures for a
threatened epidemic of pellagra and senifamine in the Southern cotton belt.
A general denial of the epidemic, however, has been issued from several of
the Southern States.
- Ogden Mills, Representative of New York, has
introduced a resolution providing for a spendings tax. It is intended to
take the place of surtaxes on incomes and is described as a tax on
expenditures exclusive of those on necessities.
- A Chicago jury has acquitted the seven Chicago
White Sox baseball players and two others. They were charged with alleged
conspiracy to defraud the public by throwing the 1919 world's series games
with Cincinnati. Judge K. M. Landis and baseball owners say the White Sox
will not be allowed to play in Big-League baseball again.
- Congress has been requested by President
Harding to pass legislation making possible the loan of $5,000,000 to
Liberia.
- Representative John Kissel, of New York, has
introduced a resolution to cut Congressmen's salaries for failure to attend
the sessions of Congress.
- The Loyal Labor Legion of New York has
inaugurated a new labor movement. It recognizes the rights of the public and
the unorganized wage earners and advocates arbitration of labor
disputes.
- The War Finance Corporation shows $63,471,700
as a total volume of business; $32,696,700 of this represents
advances already approved. The remaining $30,775,000 represents pending
business, of which 93 per cent is for agricultural commodities.
- Announcement comes from the Board of Trustees
of Johns Hopkin Hospital, Baltimore, Md., that the maximum fee for a
surgical operation should be $1,000; the minimum charge for hospital
attendance by a physician should be $35 a week.
- Labor organizations in New York City have
agreed to raise $25,000,000 for relief in Russia.
- Senator Penrose, Chairman of the Finance
Committee, has been advised by Secretary of War Weeks and Secretary of the
Navy Denby, that an embargo on dyestuffs and coal-tar chemical products is
necessary for reasons of national defense.
- The steamship Alaska has been wrecked on
Blunt's Reef, 40 miles south of Eureka, Cal. It was bound from Portland,
Ore., to San Francisco. Forty-seven of the crew and passengers were
drowned.
- Congressional leaders and Secretary of the
Treasury Mellon have met with President Harding and agreed upon a plan to
lighten the burden of taxation to the amount of $600,000,000 during the next
fiscal year.
- The pay-rolls of 1,428 firms show a decrease
of 11 per cent in employment during July. Each of these firms employs 500 or
more laborers, in 65 principle industrial centers. The net decrease was
16,914.
- Armistice Day, November 11, has been
officially proposed as the date for the convening of the joint disarmament
and Far Eastern Conference.
- Chairman Porter, of the House Foreign Affairs
Committee, announces that American soldiers will probably remain in Germany
until affairs with that country are adjusted.