Read Ebook: Sylvia & Michael: The later adventures of Sylvia Scarlett by MacKenzie Compton

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Ebook has 347 lines and 19112 words, and 7 pages

The only means of crossing this river was a little worn-out canoe which was so leaky that the natives had to thrust moss into the cracks to keep the water from fairly rushing into it. In the bottom of this canoe, which was only large enough to hold two men, Major Pinto was carefully laid, and then a stout negro undertook to paddle it across the river. The rain had swollen the river so that it was full of whirlpools, that caught the canoe, and whirled it round and round. The negro worked hard with his paddle, but he had no control over the canoe, which was gradually drawn into the rough water at the foot of the cataract. Major Pinto tried to move so that he could look over the side of the canoe, and see the danger which threatened him, but it caused him such agony to move even his little finger, that he was compelled to give up the attempt. Meanwhile the canoe was leaking so that it was nearly half full of water, and the negro, telling his helpless passenger that it was necessary to lighten the frail craft in order to keep it from sinking, jumped out and swam ashore. Major Pinto, thus deserted and left to his fate, fully expected to be drowned. Presently a big wave poured into the canoe, which instantly sank, leaving the Major in the water. To his great surprise, he began to swim vigorously, holding his watch out of the water with one hand. Although a moment before he had not been able to move a muscle, he swam ashore without the least difficulty, and when he landed on the bank his fever had vanished, and he had not a particle of rheumatism left. This was a most astonishing cure, but it probably would not prove successful anywhere except in Central Africa. At all events, it would be hardly safe for an American boy suffering with inflammatory rheumatism to have himself thrown into a deep river.

While living in the country of Bih?--a part of Africa near the sources of the river Coanza--Major Pinto was visited by a magician, who wanted to sell him anointment that would make it impossible for a rifle-bullet to hit him. The magician insisted that if any man were to rub a little of this precious ointment on his body, he would be perfectly safe, no matter how often his enemies might fire at him. As a proof of the power of this ointment, the magician said that the earthen vase which held it had been fired at thousands of times, but that no man could possibly hit it.

Major Pinto said that if he were to shoot at the vase, he rather thought he could hit it, and the magician told him that he might try his very best, but that the powerful ointment would turn his bullet aside. Now the magician did not know that the Major could shoot any better than the natives, and when he placed the vase eighty yards away, he felt certain that the white man could not hit it. Major Pinto took careful aim, fired, and knocked the vase into a thousand pieces. The natives, who had always believed in the power of the ointment, set up a shout when they saw what had happened, and the magician, knowing that his trade in ointment was ruined, slunk away, and never came back to demand payment for his broken vase.

Like all African travellers, Major Pinto had a great deal of trouble with his men, who were all native Africans. They were constantly stealing his property, getting drunk, and running away. He had, however, one faithful man, who was brave, honest, and devoted to his master. This man's name was Augoustino; he saved his master's life on several occasions, and to him is due almost as much credit for the success of the exploration as to Major Pinto himself.

THE SWEETEST MONTH.

BY M. E.

"Tell me, tell me, silver moon, Which of all the months discloses Greatest sweetness?" "Dreamy June, Summer's darling," said the moon, "Month of roses."

ANOTHER RIP VAN WINKLE.

BY MARGARET EYTINGE.

"March!" said Spring. Quickly melting, the ice ran away, And the frost hurried out of the ground, And the leaves, brown and dry, dropped with Autumn's "good-by," With the wind went a-skurrying round. And from the deep mud in a low, swampy place A turtle his long neck thrust out, And winking and blinking his funny round eyes, He lazily peered all about.

Then he dragged from the mire--like a snail on his back He bore it--his box-like abode, And patiently climbed for an hour or more Up the bank, till he came to the road. There an old man he met, who was crooked and gray, And who walked with a stout oaken cane. Cried the turtle, "Hello! please tell Ned that I'm here, And am waiting to see him again."

"Who's Ned?" asked the man. "Just examine my top , And a name and some figures he carved with his knife When we parted, you'll find on my shell." The old man he stooped with a grunt, for he was Decidedly lame in each knee. And he read, "August 1st, 1820--Ned Mott," And then chuckled, "Good gracious! that's me."

LAWN TENNIS.

BY SHERWOOD RYSE.

Those of my readers who live in or near large cities will probably know that it is an out-door game played with a racquet and a ball, but for the benefit of those who do not know it, I will give a few hints as to the laying out of the court, and the implements necessary for the game.

First of all, you must have a lawn; not necessarily a perfectly level piece of turf as smooth as a parlor carpet, but a fairly level plot of grass, which a scythe or a mowing-machine can soon put into order. Of course all stones and sticks must be picked up, and if you have a roller at hand, you will improve your lawn greatly by running the roller over it once or twice. When the ground is prepared, get some small pointed sticks and some string, and lay out the "court" according to the lines on the diagram on this page, stretching the string from one stick to another at the distances marked on the diagram. When this is done, get some whitewash and a brush two inches wide, and mark lines on the grass wherever the string passes over it. Then you may pull up the stakes and the string.

The broad line across the middle of the diagram is where the net goes. If any one of the party knows how to make a net with a two-inch mesh, so much the better; but most of my readers will prefer to buy one, I think. The net is twenty-four feet long and four feet wide, and is fastened to posts, about five feet high, at each side of the court. The posts are supported on the outer side by "guy-ropes" fastened to stakes driven into the ground, while the strain of the net between the posts supports them on the inner side. And now that the court is marked out, and the net pitched, we have everything ready except the bats and balls.

The bat, or racquet, is a very pretty piece of workmanship, and I dare not venture to hope that the cleverest of my readers could make one, so we will assume that, even if everything else is home-made, the racquet must be bought. And so, indeed, must the balls; but a hollow India rubber ball of about two and a half inches diameter is so well known to all boys that we may dismiss it with the remark that it is as well to have at least two balls at hand in a game, to save time.

The game may be played by either two or four persons. In the latter case each pair will play as partners on each side of the net. The one who strikes the ball first is called the "server." Standing with one foot outside the line at the end of the right-hand court, and the other foot inside the court , the server strikes the ball so that it falls in the court diagonally opposite him, just over the net at B, where a player on the other side will be waiting to receive it. After the ball has bounced once, the player must strike it over the net, and it must be returned from one side of the net to the other until some one fails to do so properly. One partner plays in the inner court and the other in the outer one, and after the "service" and the first return, either of the players may return the ball to any part of their opponents' court, according as it pitches nearer to one than to the other. When a player fails to return the ball properly, it counts one for the other side, and the server begins again from his old position, except that he must serve from the left-hand court this time if he served from the right-hand court last.

When one side has made four points, a new game is begun, but the same side must not "serve" two games in succession, for there is some advantage in the "service," and it would not be fair for one side to have it oftener than the other.

It will often happen that both sides will have made three points at the same time, and when that does happen, the score is called "deuce," and either side has to make two points in succession to win the game. If the server's side makes a point when the score is "deuce," it is called "advantage in," and if the other side then makes a point, their point cancels the other, and the score is set back to "deuce" again. When the other side makes a point after "deuce," it is called "advantage out," and this point may be cancelled by the other side making one, as before. When one side has made two points in succession after "deuce," the game is won. The side which wins six games first wins the "set," and then the players may rest awhile, or choose fresh sides.

All the principal rules of the game are included in the description of the game given above, but if you buy a full tennis set, a little book containing the rules will be included in it.

As I have said, everything but the bats and balls can be made at home, since nothing is required but two posts, five feet high and an inch and three-quarters in thickness, four tent-pegs to fasten the guy-ropes to, and a net.

But even if it is decided to purchase a set, the cost is not very great compared with that of some other games, especially if two or three families club together. A good tennis set, consisting of four bats, four balls, a net, two posts, guy-ropes, four stakes, and a mallet for driving these last into the ground, can be bought for fifteen dollars. The bats alone of this set would cost eight dollars, and the net two dollars. The poles are rather expensive, as they are made each in two pieces so as to pack into a box, the pieces fitting together in a brass socket. Poles without a joint in the middle can easily be made, thus saving four dollars in the cost of the outfit. The guy-ropes, runners, and stakes cost seventy-five cents a set, but these can easily be made. The cost would thus be reduced to eleven dollars, namely, eight dollars for four bats, one dollar for four balls, and two dollars for a net.

Of course players will dress lightly for the game. A flannel suit is the best thing to wear, as it is cool, and prevents the wearer from taking cold easily. Ordinary shoes can generally be worn, but most players prefer canvas shoes with rubber soles of an uneven surface to prevent slipping. For girls--and this is as much a girl's game as a boy's--short dresses of blue flannel, or some other material that is both cool and strong, are recommended; and canvas shoes with rubber soles can be bought, in girls' sizes, at almost any shoe store. English girls wear the "Jersey," shown in the cut on the preceding page, as a tennis costume, and this neat, close-fitting dress is already becoming popular in this country.

Lawn tennis is a game that requires a quick hand and eye, lively movement, and a good temper. There are two things which spoil the game, even among good players. These are lack of interest in the game, so that a player does not play his best all the time, and a show of bad temper. Angry words and solemn sulks are nowhere more out of place than on the tennis lawn.

GOING TO BE A PIRATE.

BY JIMMY BROWN.

I don't know if you are acquainted with Johnny McGinnis. Everybody knows his father, for he's been in Congress, though he is a poor man, and sells hay and potatoes, and I heard father say that Mr. McGinnis is the most remarkable man in the country. Well, Johnny is Mr. McGinnis's boy, and he's about my age, and thinks he's tremendously smart; and I used to think so too, but now I don't think quite so much of him. He and I went away to be pirates the other day, and I found out that he will never do for a pirate.

You see, we had both got into difficulties. It wasn't my fault, I am sure, but it's such a painful subject that I won't describe it. I will merely say that after it was all over, I went to see Johnny to tell him that it was no use to put shingles under your coat, for how is that going to do your legs any good, and I tried it because Johnny advised me to. I found that he had just had a painful scene with his father on account of apples; and I must say it served him right, for he had no business to touch them without permission. So I said, "Look here, Johnny, what's the use of our staying at home and being laid onto with switches and our best actions misunderstood and our noblest and holiest emotions held up to ridicule?" That's what I heard a young man say to Sue one day, but it was so beautiful that I said it to Johnny myself.

"Oh, go 'way," said Johnny.

"Hurrah!" says Johnny. "We'll do it. Let's run away to-night. I'll take father's hatchet, and the carving-knife, and some provisions, and meet you back of our barn at ten o'clock."

So that night I watched my chance, and dropped my supper into my handkerchief, and stuffed it into my pocket. When ten o'clock came, I tied up my clothes in a bundle, and took my hatchet and the silver knife and some matches, and slipped out the back door, and met Johnny. He had nothing with him but his supper and a backgammon board and a bag of marbles. We went straight for the woods, and after we'd selected a big tree to cut down, we ate our supper. Just then the moon went under a cloud, and it grew awfully dark. We couldn't see very well how to chop the tree, and after Johnny had cut his fingers, we put off cutting down the tree till morning, and resolved to build a fire. We got a lot of fire-wood, but I dropped the matches, and when we found them again they were so damp that they wouldn't light.

All at once the wind began to blow, and made a dreadful moaning in the woods. Johnny said it was bears, and that though he wanted to be a pirate, he hadn't calculated on having any bears. Then he said it was cold, and so it was, but I told him that it would be warm enough when we got to the Spanish Main, and that pirates ought not to mind a little cold.

Pretty soon it began to rain, and then Johnny began to cry. It just poured down, and the way our teeth chattered was terrible. By-and-by Johnny jumped up, and said he wasn't going to be eaten up by bears and get an awful cold, and he started on a run for home. Of course I wasn't going to be a pirate all alone, for there wouldn't be any fun in that, so I started after him. He must have been dreadfully frightened, for he ran as fast as he could, and as I was in a hurry, I tried to catch up with him. If he hadn't tripped over a root, and I hadn't tripped over him, I don't believe I could have caught him. When I fell on him, you ought to have heard him yell. He thought I was a bear, but any sensible pirate would have known I wasn't.

Johnny left me at his front gate, and said he had made up his mind he wouldn't be a pirate, and that it would be a great deal more fun to be a plumber, and melt lead. I went home, and as the house was locked up, I had to ring the front-door bell. Father came to the door himself, and when he saw me, he said, "Jimmy, what in the world does this mean?" So I told him that Johnny and me had started for the Spanish Main to be pirates, but Johnny had changed his mind up in Deacon Sammis's woods, and that I thought I'd change mine too.

Father had me put to bed, and hot bottles and things put in the bed with me, and before I went to sleep, he came and said: "Good-night, Jimmy. We'll try and have more fun at home, so that there won't be any necessity of your being a pirate." And I said, "Dear father, I'd a good deal rather stay with you, and I'll never be a pirate without your permission."

This is why I say that Johnny McGinnis will never make a good pirate. He's too much afraid of getting wet.

THE KING'S PET LION.

BY DAVID KER.

A long time ago there lived a young King in the east of Germany, who was so famous for strange adventures and out-of-the-way exploits that the people in those parts talk of him still; and if you turn away from the railway track, and march off with your knapsack through the passes of the "Giant Mountains," you will hear many a curious story about him, and many a strange old song, from the miners and charcoal-burners, whose queer little huts are dotted all over the higher slopes. And if, after three weeks or a month among those grand old forests, and green upland pastures, and shining water-falls, and huge black precipices--sleeping in your plaid under the lee of a big rock, and sharing some charcoal man's fried potatoes beside a pine-log fire--you do not come back with health and strength enough for a dozen, and good old stories enough for a library, it will certainly be your own fault.

This German prince had become King when he was little more than a boy, and hardly fit to manage such a difficult business as taking care of a whole kingdom at once. Indeed, he often wished that the kingdom could take care of itself, and leave him a little more liberty; for he would far rather have been galloping over hedge and ditch on his good horse than wading through piles of musty state papers, and he thought it far better fun to follow the deer up the hills with his gun than to sit perched up on a throne in his crown and robes, with ever so many people coming and making long speeches to him, of which he hardly understood a word.

And so, indeed, he had; and the young King always ended by doing what the Count told him, although he grumbled a little at times. "Happy as a King?" he would say, when he came back from a long morning in the council chamber: "I believe I'm the least happy man in my kingdom, for I'm the only one who can't do as he likes."

Now the King used jokingly to call this lion his brother, because whenever he flew into a rage , Count Thorn would say, gravely, "My boy, an angry man is no better than a wild beast; and if you choose to be just the same as that lion yonder, we may as well make him King instead of you."

So long as the beast was only a cub, Count Thorn made no objection to it, and indeed was rather pleased that his pupil had found something to amuse him. But now that the cub had grown into a full-sized lion, with teeth that would crack a man's skull like a nut, and a paw that would beat in an oaken door at one blow, it was a very different thing; and the old Count began to be somewhat anxious. He knew that the lion's savage nature might awake at any moment, and that, if it did, the King would be torn in pieces before a hand could be lifted to save him. The more he thought of the whole business, the less he liked it; and at last he made up his mind to speak out. So one day he came to the King in his garden, with such a grave face that the young man cried out at once: "Why, uncle, what's the matter? you look as if you were just going to be beheaded."

"My boy," said the Count, gravely, "I want to talk seriously with you."

"Which means that I'm going to get a scolding," observed the King, folding his arms, with such a rueful look that Count Thorn could scarcely help laughing.

"This is no laughing matter," said the Count, shaking his head. "Suppose he were to spring upon you all at once, and seize you in those great jaws of his, what then?"

"As if he'd ever dream of doing anything of the sort!" laughed the King. "Why, he's as tame as any dog, and tamer, too."

"Well, if you won't send him away," urged the Count, "at all events have him chained up, or put in a cage, so that he can do no harm."

In short, let Count Thorn talk as he pleased, the King was not to be persuaded; and like most people who are fond of having their own way, he had to pay dearly for it in the end, as you shall see.

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