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

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THE JURY

ONE day before school closed our teacher told us all to write a letter to THE BROWNIES' BOOK, and she would send the three best ones. She said mine was the second best, so here it is.

FOR some time I have been intending to write to THE BROWNIES' BOOK. I am eleven years old and in the fifth grade. My favorite study is French and when I get big, my father says he will take me to France if I learn my French lessons real well. Last year was the first year we had a modern language in the grammar school department. We had Latin before but I don't like that much.

Our teacher is a real French woman. She comes from Alsace and she told us that she was so glad that Alsace was French again. She said that Alsatians hate the Germans. Sometimes she shows us pictures of Alsace and when I go there I am going to look for those places.

I AM older than most of the readers of THE BROWNIES' BOOK, but I think that I enjoy it as much as your more youthful subscribers. I am sixteen years old and have just finished my third year in high school. I hope to graduate next June. I have not quite decided whether I am going to normal school or to college. I rather think it will be the latter as I wish to pursue, as far as possible, my studies in English.

I think that the main reason I am interested in THE BROWNIES' BOOK is because I like to write. I am always interested in the type of story or articles you use. I have had one or two articles in the school magazine, in fact I am the assistant editor and it certainly is interesting work.

Some day perhaps I shall venture to send you some of my work for your opinion and advice.

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Our Little Friends

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BRAVE BROWN JOE AND GOOD WHITE MEN

THE brig, Ottoman, sailed from New Orleans for Boston in the summer of 1846. She was the property of a Massachusetts firm, John H. Pearson and Company. Mr. Pearson is credited, in most of the records, which I have seen, with taking the aggressive and responsible position in certain affairs, which have given the ships and the company a shameful place in history.

When the Ottoman had been away from port a week, and is supposed to have been outside of the territorial waters of the United States, a fugitive slave, a mulatto lad, named Joe, was found secreted on board. The sailors and the captain all knew him, and had liked him very much. He had been often sent by his master, in New Orleans, on errands to the brig.

He begged these men, who knew him, to do —what? Just nothing at all, but to sail on to Boston whither they were bound. He had heard of Boston, and, once were he there, if only they again would do nothing, he was sure that he could slip away and become free, and nobody need ever know that he had been found at sea on John H. Pearson's boat. It was a fair legal question, whether, at that moment, out there on the ocean, and not having been helped to get there by anyone, Joe was not actually a free man by both human and divine law.

Captain Hannon, of the brig, watched for a vessel which would be on her way back to New Orleans. He intended, if one were encountered, to pass Joe, like a bale of goods, over to her to be returned to New Orleans. No such vessel was met, however, and the Ottoman sailed on its course and reached Boston in due time.

Captain Hannon did not let Joe land. He communicated with John H. Pearson and Company who decided that Joe must be sent back

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to Louisiana on the Niagara, another vessel which they owned. They had no legal right to detain him, to put him on another boat, or to send him anywhere. They managed to get him onto a small island in the harbor, intending him to stay there until the Niagara was ready to sail.

He was a brave and resourceful fellow, and he escaped from the island and made his way into the city. No warrant had been issued for his arrest. He had committed no crime against the laws of Massachusetts. No claim had been made upon the authorities for his detention, even as a suspected fugitive from "service" or "labor." He stood on the Boston pavements an absolutely free man in the eyes of the law.

Men were set on Joe's track, either by Captain Hannon or the shipowners,—probably because of instructions from the shipowners to the captain. They found Joe in one of the city streets and there they literally grabbed him.

A few puzzled bystanders saw that something peculiar was going on, and they asked what the fuss was all about. They were told that Joe was a thief, and being so assured, it was likely that they took it for granted that he was being taken legally, and certainly righteously into custody.

Joe was put on the Niagara and taken back to slavery.

But what had been done in Boston was clearly an act of kidnapping, and that was a crime against the law of the State. Still, I do not know that anybody was arrested for having committed that crime. Perhaps the actual kidnappers were unknown persons, or were men who had already sailed away from the city, and the connection of John H. Pearson with their deed might have been difficult, if not impossible, to establish in a court room. Joe, poor fellow, was beyond the reach of either justice or sympathy. Nothing could be done for him personally. But the story became known in Boston, and public indignation rose up like a giant in wrath. Then good white men showed themselves on the moral scene of action.

Dr. Samuel G. Howe, the famous teacher of the blind, called a meeting in the Faneuil Hall to protest against the outrage, the injury to Joe and the defiance of the law in the Commonwealth. It was the custom for Boston people to meet in the old Faneuil Hall to express approval or disapproval of great public events.

John Quincy Adams was asked to preside at the meeting. He was then nearly eighty years old, and indeed he died not very long afterwards. He had been President of the United States, and later during many successive years, a member of Congress. It was he who, in a time of unsettled law and custom, had secured for all Americans, white or black, bond or free, the right to send petitions to Congress. It was he, also, who had announced the famous legal opinion, that, should a war occur, the President of the United States or any Commanding General in the field might abolish slavery, in any part of the country under his immediate control.

When the audience assembled in Faneuil Hall, to protest against the kidnapping of Joe, a tremendous sensation went through it, as old John Quincy Adams was seen walking up to his appointed place on the platform.

He told the crowd that, once Elbridge Gerry, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, had been asked to attend a meeting, which had been called to protest because British sailors had forcibly taken a seaman from an American frigate. Gerry had said then, that if he had only one more day to live on earth, he would use it to go to that meeting; and, after repeating what the signer had said of himself, Adams added, "On that same principle I now appear before you."

Charles Sumner, who was to be the greatest and most persistent advocate of Negro rights, in the United States Senate, made a speech, and said of Joe, "That poor unfortunate, . . . . when he touched the soil of Massachusetts, was as much entitled to the protection of its laws," (turning towards Adams), "as much as you, Mr. President, covered with honors as you are.

Wendell Phillips declared that the social and religious institutions of the country were morally feeble. Had they, he said, been strong, such a thing as the kidnapping of a defenceless man could never have occurred.

Dr. Howe told Joe's story in detail, while the audience shouted and groaned in sympathetic response. He described, imaginatively, how the young fugitive must have felt, how he had hoped and had believed that in Massachusetts he would be safe,—he would be free,— if he could only get there. And the fear, .. . the horror, . . . the desperate effort . . . and he got to Boston! . . . And then,—the capture, the agony, and the utter loss of every earthly hope!

Of the owners of the Ottoman, Dr. Howe said, "I would rather be in the place of the victim, than in theirs; aye! through the rest of my life, I would rather be a driven slave on a Louisiana plantation than roll in their wealth, and bear the burden of their guilt."

Dr. Howe had, before this day, served in Greece on behalf of her freedom. He had been in a European prison, because he was known to be in favor of liberty. And, in Paris, he had once become a volunteer guard to Lafayette, when the life of that hero of two continents was in peril.

Every man who spoke at this meeting in Faneuil Hall either had already done or was yet to do signal work for American Negroes. All of them were in deadly earnest.

They could not rescue poor Joe from the awful doom to which he had been consigned. But, to quote from Frank B. Sanborn's account: "The upshot of the meeting was the appointment of a Vigilance Committee of forty members, of which Dr. Howe was chairman. This Vigilance Committee looked after the welfare of fugitive slaves and "in various forms continued to exist" and to work in Massachusetts, until its watchful service was no longer needed, because slavery had been abolished. For several years it kept a yacht in Boston Harbor, ready to sail at a moment's notice, and in some way or other rescue and save from return to the South any other stowaway fugitive who got as far towards freedom as into the harbor.

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Little People of the Month

JOHNETTA EVELYN CRAWFORD is a little girl of New Orleans, La. She's only six years old, but when it comes to selling tickets, Johnetta ranks with the grown-ups. For the closing exercises of Miss Alice Duvall's School, Johnetta sold 381 tickets and won the first prize. Last December, Johnetta entered school. She is now in the first grade.

A brownie of Norfolk, Va., was a prize winner in the contest conducted by the Berry & Ross Manufacturing Company of New York City. The subject was, "Why Should a Colored Child Play with a White Doll?" And here we see little Catherine Bynum with her prize, a sleeping, brown-skinned doll. Catherine is eight years old and attends the John C. Price Public School. She is in the third grade.

The three kiddies were prize winners in the colored division of the "Better Babies" contest at the Ashland Place Y. W. C. A., Brooklyn, N.Y. They are, left to right, Allen Brown, Leah Malone and Edgerton Dunn.

At Belchertown, Mass., there is a boy who has walked ten miles to and from school each day for four years, with the exception of seven weeks when the town provided transportation for him. His home is in the West End district. and often the roads are in such condition that walking is difficult. However, Orin LeRoy Bracey was graduated in June from the Belcher- town High School as valedictorian of his class. He is fifteen and one-half years old and the first colored boy to receive a diploma from the school.

Miss Frazine Mae Lacey was born in Glen Cove, Long Island. She was graduated in June of this year from the Lynn, Mass., English High School, where she was the only colored member of a class of 217. Miss Lacey took the Commercial Course and she plans to pursue secretarial work. She plays the piano and the violin, recites, and is an impersonator. In all her endeavors she is quite thorough.

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The English and the Irish have finally come together in conference to consider the future political status of Ireland. It looks as though the conference will be successful.

The Prince of Wales, heir to the throne of England, has started on a journey to India. The English are afraid that the Indians who are demanding independence will not be particularly glad to see the Prince.

A treaty is about to be signed by which a larger degree of independence will be given to the Egyptian Government.

Charles, former Emperor of Austria, flew to Hungary in an airplane and tried to seize his throne. He was defeated and he and his wife captured. They will undoubtedly be made to live in some place far enough off so that they will not disturb Hungary again.

In southwestern Germany there is a region called Silesia which is very rich in coal and iron. The Treaty of Versailles ordered Silesia to be divided between Germany and Poland. Recently this division has been made by the Council of the League of Nations. Germany thinks that Poland got the richer part of Silesia and for this reason her ministry has resigned.

THE frost—the beautiful white frost, is creeping southward. It is glistening in Labrador, and shining of nights in Canada, and breathing lightly on New York. It is painting the forests all of the beautifullest colors. I love the frost.

Lieutenant John A. MacReady, of the United States Air Service, has established a new world record for altitude. He climbed 40,800 feet above sea level at Dayton, Ohio.

Ex-president Taft has taken the oath of office as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.

Savings of small investors in the United States total $27,000,000,000, of which $21,000000,000 is invested in Government securities ; the remainder is represented by the deposits of 30,000 savings banks. The savings average $250 to every man, woman and child in the United States.

Colonel Mason M. Patrick has been nominated as Director of Army Air Service.

The United States Shipping Board has selected Harry Kimball, of New York City, as financial vice-president. His salary is $30,000 a year.

One of eleven Judges of the League of Nations' International Court of Justice is John Bassett Moore. Mr. Moore is an authority on international law and was formerly a member of the Permanent Court of Arbitration at the Hague.

President Harding has issued a proclamation asking American people to honor their war dead on Armistice Day, November 11, by offering a two minute silent prayer at noon. At this time the body of an unknown soldier, killed in action, will be buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

The United Mine Workers of America have voted disapproval of salary increases for 60% of the union's officers.

According to figures obtained in Washington there are 6,000,000 men in the active armies of the fourteen most important nations.

Secretary of the Treasury Mellon, in following his program for handling the short-dated debt, announces a combined offering of $600,000,000 in new notes. This is the largest offering since the Liberty Loan. More than $1,150,000,000 of principal and interest in Treasury certificates and other obligations fell due before October 15.

Dr. Livingston Farrand was formally inaugurated President of Cornell University, October 20. Dr. Farrand has had wide experience as a scholar, an educator and an administrator.

There's threat of a great strike of railway employees. When the wages of the laborers were increased during the war, the railway engineers, firemen, conductors and laborers received no increase and were prevented from striking by an appeal from the President who promised relief. Last year tardy relief was given and wage increases were made. This year the increases given have been reduced 12% and the railroads are asking for another 10% reduction. Against these reductions, the railroad employees threatened a great strike, but they have been persuaded to postpone it.

A great meeting of the leading nations of the world to discuss methods of reducing armies and navies will be held this month in Washington. This assembly is the most important that the world has seen since the Peace Treaty. It is feared that little will be accomplished, but with the Prime Ministers of England and France and distinguished statesmen from Italy, Japan and China meeting with the officials of the American Government, we can be hopeful.

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THOSE WHO HAVE NO TURKEY

A STRETCH of farm land gray in the dawning, a flash of blue water, then long lines of freight cars, the sound of many whistles and the shrill shriek of the brakes, while the sleepy voice of the porter called the station, told the girl that she had arrived at the end of he journey. One big pull, a final jolt and the long train came to a stop. Clasping her old traveling bag in one hand, a bundle under her arm and a shawl over her shoulders, fourteen-year-old Diane Jordan stepped to the platform, for the first time in her life in a large city.

It was on Thanksgiving morning, sometimes called the Day of Big Dinners, that Diane got her first view of the metropolis. Of course, her two cousins with Aunt Ruth were at the station to meet her. After many kisses and exclamations of welcome they guided the rather dazed little country girl to their big car and whirled away uptown. Diane looked out of the automobile and enjoyed the ride, while Aunt Ruth asked about her only sister, Diane's mother and her activities in the country, for Mrs. Wilson had not been to visit her relative for some years.

The Jordan family and the Wilson family, it must be explained, were in no wise alike. The two sisters had married into vastly different positions in life. One went with her husband to a farm down in the southern part of the State, where they tilled the soil for a living. Their crops were usually good and they did well, but their customs remained those of simple, generous-hearted country folk. The other girl married Lawrence Wilson, who became one of the wealthy and well known colored doctors in his city. His wife gained an enviable social position, lived in a beautiful house on a shady street and sent her daughters to a private school. Mrs. Wilson, busy with her social duties, seldom saw her country sister, but since her two children had spent a summer on the farm she had always intended to have her niece, Diane, visit in the city, so this accounts for the presence of this countrified, tomboyish little girl seated in an expensive car between the stylishly clad daughters of Mrs. Lawrence Wilson. But Diane liked the ride and admired her aunt's skill in driving.

"Father's been called out of town," her cousins explained, "and mother always runs the car when he's away."

Soon the big automobile rolled up a cement drive and stopped under the porte-cochere of the largest house Diane had ever visited. She marvelled at its size, but the inside was still more wonderful. It is useless to attempt to describe her feelings upon entering this home so different from her rural one, as only a Dickens could do it.

However, after an hour or so of this indoor splendor and her doll-like cousins, Diane, a hardy child of the out-of-doors, grew a bit tired and decided to inspect the yard, since Aunt Ruth would not let her help get dinner. Once in a while the scent of turkey floated in from the kitchen. In the country she always helped her mother cook, but here they seemed to hire folks to do the work. Well, city people were queer. Even their yards were not the same. Why, in the country one had a whole farm to play in, but here the houses took up all the room; so, finding the space between the wall and the fence too small, Diane's adventurous feet led her to examine the neighborhood.

She had walked a block or two, stopping now and then to stare at some strange new object, when she reached a corner where two car lines crossed and many automobiles were passing in all directions. The scene was interesting, so she leaned against a lamp post and watched the city folk go by until her attention was attracted to a small, dark brown boy, yelling at the top of his voice, "Papers! Extra papers, just out!" He reminded Diane of little brother at home. Her gaze must have attracted his attention, too, for he demanded. "Paper, lady?" Perhaps he called her lady because her dresses were unusually long for a girl of fourteen, but on the farm, clothes are not of the latest fashion.

"What kind o' paper you got?" asked the girl.

"Post or Herald," replied the little urchin.

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Diane pondered. "Well, give me the best one," she said, " 'cause Pa told me to bring him a city daily."

"I've only got two left and if you take 'em both you'll be sure and get the best," urged the little newsie, anxious to sell out.

"All right, I'll take them," she agreed. "You're in a hurry to get home and eat some turkey, aren't you?"

"Turkey! What do you mean?" asked the boy to whom the word was but a name. "We ain't got no turkey."

This answer was surprising to Diane. The girl could not imagine any one not having turkey for Thanksgiving. All the people in the country had one. Truly, city ways were strange! Why, she had never known anybody to be without a turkey on Thanksgiving day, except once when her uncle George said that he was "just darned tired of having what other folks have," so his wife cooked two ducks and a chicken instead. Perhaps this boy's mother intended to have duck.

"Well, you're going to have ducks for dinner, then?" Diane asked.

"Naw, we ain't got no duck," he replied.

"Poor little boy," she thought. "Why then it must be chicken, isn't it?" she suggested.

"Naw, we ain't got no chicken, either."

"Well, what in the world have you got?" she demanded of this peculiar boy who had neither
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"We ain't got nothin' yet," he said, and looking up into Diane's sympathetic face he added, "and we won't have much if dere's not enough pennies in my pocket to get somethin.' My mother's been sick."

"O-o-o," said Diane, looking down at the ragged little fellow. It took her a long time to comprehend. She had never heard of anybody having nothing for dinner except the poor war- stricken Europeans, and that was because the armies had eaten everything up. "Oh," she repeated. "Are you going to buy something?" "Sure I am," he replied proudly. "Want to help me count my change?"

He had a dollar and fifty-four cents.

"Gee, I can get a dandy dinner with this," he said. "Ma's able to cook now."

However, Diane was not very sure about how much a dollar and fifty-four cents would buy, especially for a Thanksgiving meal. Suddenly a big thought came to her. She would ask the little boy and his mother to her Aunt's house for dinner. Surely Aunt Ruth would not mind. In the country they always had lots of extra company at the Thanksgiving table.

The little brown newsie was rather puzzled at this strange girl's generosity. Nothing like it had ever happened to him before, and he had sold papers in the streets since the age of five. Finally Diane forced him to accept her invitation, the lure of unknown turkey being too much for the little fellow. He promised to come at three.

"Where do you live?" he asked skeptically.

"Down there." Diane pointed to the large house not far away. "I mean I don't live there but I'm staying there now, and you and your mother can come down today for dinner."

"But I got two sisters," said the boy.

"Oh, bring them along." What were two sisters added to a dinner party? Why, her mother's table at home could feed twenty at once, if necessary.

"And I got a little brother, too," he continued.

"Well," hesitated Diane, "bring him with you. I like babies." However, she hoped that he had no more relatives. "Now tell me your name," she demanded, "so I can tell Aunt Ruth who's coming."

"Lester Lincoln Jones," he replied, "and we'll sure be there. S' long." Off he ran down the street to deliver the invitation.

Diane went back to the great house without a doubt in the world but that her aunt would be "tickled to death" to have extra company for dinner. Mrs. Wilson had been worried about her niece for the last twenty minutes and when she learned of the invitation, that august lady was too shocked for words. At first she hotly refused to admit the coming guests to her home. However, after many hugs and kisses and tearful entreaties from her two daughters, who thought it would be great fun to have such unusual company, and from Diane who declared she would not eat unless the newsboy and his family could eat, too, the elderly lady finally consented.

About three o'clock the family came. They were from the South and the weak little mother explained in her rather broken language that she didn't understand the invitation at all, but came only because her son insisted. The small twin sisters had washed their faces until they shone, and the cute, but none too fat baby, had big black eyes and tiny, mischievous hands that kept Mrs. Wilson's nerves on edge. "Such hands," she said, "always wanted to touch something, and babies quite often break things."

During the dinner the dark faced little mother did not talk much, but the young Joneses,— they ate and jabbered to their hearts' content. They expressed a marvelous joy and delight over the turkey, as they had never even tasted that fowl before. And as for the plum pudding and large round pies, no words in the world could give vent to their feelings. But when they had finished, their stomachs were as tight as kettle drums from very fullness, and the baby resembled a pert little cherub like those that might be painted around a Negro Madonna's pictures.

After the ice cream had been eaten and each one of the children had a handful of nuts, the mother said that they must go, and not to Mrs. Wilson's sorrow. The woman thanked them very sincerely for the grand dinner and Mrs. Wilson promised to help her find work.

After the door had closed upon the departing Jones party, Mrs. Wilson declared, "Those people were the strangest dinner guests I ever entertained."

And when Diane got back to the farm, she told her mother all about it and ended her story with, "Well, Ma, I never knew before that there are people in the world who have no turkey on Thanksgiving."

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THE HAILSTONE ELF

JERRY stood at the window and flattened his nose against the pane of glass in order to get a nearer view of the sky.

"I wish we would have a great big storm," he said to a little brown sparrow that perched on the sill for a second. "And I wish that little sister wasn't sick and could watch it with me."

The wind swept in chilly blasts about the deserted garden and howled dismally through the naked trees. It rattled the blinds on the house and whistled in through cracks, making the little sick girl cuddle down under the covers.

Jerry tip-toed over to his mother. "Isn't it time that the Frost King came?" he whispered.

Mother smiled and drew the little fellow to her side. "The Frost King is way up back of the clouds, dearie," she said. "It is hardly cold enough to snow, but maybe he will send some of the storm fairies and elves to us today."

"Oh, goody! I wish he would send them down in a beautiful hail storm."

"Suppose I tell you a story about Shivers, a Hailstone Elf, while little sister is sleeping," said mother, drawing her chair nearer to the window.

Jerry seated himself on a stool at her feet, greatly excited. "Oh, do tell me about Shivers!"

"Once upon a time, Shivers was part of a fleecy, fluffy, feathery cloud. He was warm and comfy but not very happy because he couldn't do anything but sail around in the sky all day.

"'I want to work and help in the world,' he cried to the great Mother Cloud in whose arms he nestled.

"Now the Frost King heard him, and he needed just such a staunch little soldier in his Hailstone Army. So he sent a cool, cool wind to blow over the fleecy, fluffy, feathery cloud. And the cool, cool wind blew Shivers right up into the Frost King's palace.

"It was a wonderful, glistening palace with icicle halls that were covered with snowy carpets. The windows were of sleet, festooned with snowdrifts. They looked like beautiful patterns of lace.

"Shivers whirled about full of joy, until he fell out of Mother Cloud's arms. For a moment he was frightened. But a host of Fairy Snow Drops came fluttering out of the palace. They gathered about him, laughing and chattering merrily, in snow drop fashion.

"'What is your dearest wish?' asked a saucy little Snow Flake, bowing before him.

"Now Shivers wasn't a part of the fleecy, fluffy, feathery cloud any more, but he was a tiny Rain Drop! He was feeling rather heavy hearted and when Snow Flake asked him for his dearest wish, his eyes grew tearful as he said:

"'I fear it is an impossible one. A little boy way down on earth is calling me to come and play with him. His little sister is sick and she is calling me to help her get well. I would love to cheer them both.'

"The Snow Drops were just as happy as they could be. 'Hurrah, hurrah!' they cried. 'That is a beautiful wish. You shall join the Frost King's Army and you shall be a mighty Hailstone Elf. Come, sisters, let us prepare the little Rain Drop for battle.'

"'A battle!' cried Shivers.

"'Yes indeed. When the Frost King visits the earth it is always a battle between the clouds and the sun. But you have such a noble purpose, that I am sure we shall win.'

"So they brought a blanket of snow and rolled the Rain Drop in it. Then they gathered sleet from the palace windows, and draped it about him. What a funny little fellow he was now! Mother Cloud would never have known him. He gurgled with delight when they placed a snow cap on his head and handed him a frosted sword.

"'Away, away to the Frost King!' they shouted.

"He had grown so heavy that they had to roll him up the icy steps and down the hall of snow. At the far end sat the Frost King on his throne, a huge snow drift. He was covered with sleet from head to foot and as the sun broke through the palace windows, he sparkled like millions of diamonds. Shivers was so impressed that he nearly fainted.

"'Ho, ho, North Wind, refresh him!' commanded the Frost King.

And the North Wind blew such a mighty blast that the palace fairly trembled. Shivers
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"Frost King stroked his icicle beard and rolled his glittering eyes over Shivers.

"'Arise, Knight of the Hailstone Army!' he commanded.

"Shivers staggered to his feet. He wasn't part of the fleecy, fluffy, feathery cloud any more; he wasn't a Rain Drop; he wasn't a Snow Flake. He was a great, big Hailstone! How mighty and fine he felt! The Frost King was speaking.

"'You are ordered to go with the Army to earth and to give peace and joy wherever it is needed.'

"'But how are we to get there?' asked Shivers.

"The Frost King looked puzzled for a moment. 'It is still too warm down on earth for a snow storm,' he muttered. 'Ah, I have it! I shall interview the King of Thunder. Away to the border of Cloudland and await me there!'

"So the mighty Army set forth, holding their icicle spears over their shoulders. A little later, in Cloudland, they met the King of Thunder.

"'Ah, my fine soldiers,' he cried. 'You are just in time.' And he threw them a flash of electricity.

"'Good!' exclaimed Shivers. 'We shall ride to earth on a shaft of lightning.'

"With a shout, the Hailstones mounted the shaft, and—"

"Oh, mother, look!" cried Jerry, excitedly. "We're going to have a thunder storm, and I do believe it's a hail storm, too. Oh, goody, goody!"

The storm clouds, which had been gathering for some time, burst ; and a shower of hailstones tumbled down, some of them bounding on the window sill.

"We must not open this window, dear," said mother. "But suppose you run to the front. door."

Away sped the little fellow. He tugged at the big door until it yielded. There lay the biggest hailstone Jerry had ever seen!

"I do believe it is Shivers!" he cried, picking it up. He ran back to the sick room. "Mother, here's Shivers." He held the hailstone gingerly in his hand.

"So it is," said mother. "And it is so warm and comfy here that it must make Shivers remember nestling in the arms of the fleecy, fluffy, feathery cloud. Look, Jerry, I believe he is a bit homesick, for he is beginning to weep. Maybe he is longing for Mother Cloud. Or perhaps he wants to help little sister."

And mother placed the great Hailstone on the little girl's forehead. Then she went on softly with her story.

"He has forgotten all about the Frost King and the Hailstone Army. He is just so happy that he wants to weep, for he is helping to cool sister's head. And little sister is helping him to get back to Cloudland. His heart is as light as a feather. It is lighter than a feather, for he is rising up, up in a mist. And as he goes up in this mist, he is joined by hosts of his. brothers and sisters. The warm rays of the sun are drawing them all closer together."

Jerry drew a long breath. "That was a lovely story, mother," he said. "And I'm so glad that the little Hailstone got back to his mother. Will sister be well now?"

"Pretty soon, dear. Look, she is better and is smiling at us!"