THE FAIRY PLAQUE.

BY FRANK BELLEW.

This game is played as follows: Take as many small pieces of card-board as there are players, and number them 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and so on. Then place them all on the table and shuffle them together. Let each player draw a card. The one who draws the highest number is the manager of the game.

The manager lays the plaque before him on the table, and directs all the players to stand with their faces to the wall. He then takes the pieces of card bearing the numbers, and places one upon each picture—one on the Black Knight in the centre, one on the White Cat, one on the Skylark, and so on. Each player must now choose a number. When all have chosen, the manager announces who has hit on the number representing the White Cat.

Now the White Cat is supposed to be a Princess in disguise, and it is the duty of the Black Prince to rescue her. But if a boy selects the number representing the Princess, he can select any little girl who is playing, and exchange tickets, saying to her, "You shall be my Princess." In the same way, if a little girl selects the number which represents the Black Knight, she changes tickets with any little boy, saying, "You shall be my Black Knight."

When this is arranged, the Princess takes her position on one side of the room, and the Knight on the other, and all the players march three times round the room, each imitating the sound of the animal his number represents. Then they draw themselves up in line in front of the Princess, and facing the Black Knight. The latter takes a handkerchief rolled up in the form of a ball, and throws it toward the Princess.

If he can throw it over the heads of the other players so that the Princess can catch it, then she is released, and all the others have to pay a forfeit, but it is the object of the other players to try to catch the ball without moving from their places. If one catches it, he is released, and so it goes on until either the Princess catches the ball or all of the other players catch it. Then if she and the Knight are left all alone, they both have to pay forfeits, which are cried in the usual manner.

Can it be possible that we have already reached the last day of January? One month of this bright new year has flitted away. You have had time to get used to writing 1882 on your school exercises, and time, we fear, to forget some of the good resolutions it seems so natural to make in the beginning of a year. Well, here is a chance for another start. If any boy is a loiterer, or careless, or passionate, if any girl is untidy or disobliging, begin to fight the bad habits now. February will bring us into the final month of winter.

Will some of our little window-gardeners write to the Postmistress and tell her about the callas that are opening their beautiful cup-like flowers, and the hyacinths that are filling their rooms with fragrance? There will be a snug little corner for plant-lovers in Our Post-office Box during the whole of the next month.

New York City.

I saw in No. 114 an article on sponges, in which you said that sponges were cultivated in Europe. One day as I was passing through Fulton Street I saw in a show case something labelled "cultivated sponge." With your piece fresh in my memory, and having also a great curiosity to see how it looked, I entered the store—a large drug house near William Street—and inquired about it, and they kindly told me that the sponge was raised at Cedar Key, Florida, and that it was of seven months' growth; also that it had been cut and planted without being taken out of the water. The sponge measured seven inches in depth and eight inches across. Thinking that some of your young readers would like to see such a curiosity, I write this letter.

Alfred M.

West Chester, Pennsylvania.

I am a little boy eight years old, and my uncle has been sending me Young People for a long time. I have read letters that little boys have written for your paper, and thought I would like to write and tell them about my pet squirrel. Its name is Shell-bark. I named it that because it eats so many nuts. My papa and I were in the woods one day, and saw a little squirrel pop its head out of a hole, so we threw a handkerchief over the hole, and caught it. It is very tame now, but it has had a sore nose from trying to get out of its cage, and the only way I could get to grease it was by giving him a shell-bark, and when he poked his nose out to get it, I greased it with cold cream. I believe that is all I have to say.

Robert F. W.

Do you not think you would feel happier if you were to set that cage door open, and give the captive, although he is so tame, the choice between liberty and confinement? It is squirrel nature to love the wide woods, and I am afraid, notwithstanding your generous providing, he would prefer the old trees and scanty fare to the prettiest cage and plenty. If you do keep him for a pet, then ask papa to let you have a cage for him so large that you could turn a somersault in it.

New York City.

I wonder if you would mind having at least one girl who has sympathy for Augusta C. about cats? I do not say I hate cats, yet I do not like them much. I think there are many nobler pets. We board, consequently I have no pets; but I have had them. Last year we went on a pleasure-trip to California, and staid eight months, going by sea via Panama, and coming home by land. I would like to know if Wiggles when drawn with a lead pencil are acceptable, and on what kind of paper. I am fourteen years old, and go to the public school.

Marie B.

Wiggles may be drawn with a lead-pencil, and on any kind of paper which is convenient. They should be sent as promptly as possible.

Chestnut Ridge, New York.

I have read your nice paper for a year, and I like it very much. Last winter we were snowed in for a week, and could not drive out at all. The men had to take shovels and shovel the roads, and were two or three days doing it. The people would drive over the worst of the drifts, and then turn back when they got where the roads were good, for fear of finding worse drifts. I had a pet bird named Dickie. I often used to let him come out of the cage, and fly around the room. I did so one day, and forgot him when I went out-doors. I came back to look for him, but I could not find a feather. I don't know whether the cat caught him or what happened to him, but we never found him again.

Mr. Lossing, the gentleman who sometimes writes for Harper's Young People, lives only a little way from us. He is a very intelligent person. His stories are very interesting, especially his history. I have also been very much interested in Mr. Otis's stories. I think that "Toby Tyler" is better than "Tim and Tip."

Mollie B. P.

Poor little birdie! You could not even have the sad comfort of a funeral for him. I fear the cat could have told what became of him; but she acted, if it was she who was the culprit, according to her nature. If you ever have so docile a pet again, you will surely not forget him when he is outside the shelter of his cage.

In No. 119 we will insert the January report of Miss E. A. Fanshawe, treasurer of the Endowment Fund for Young People's Cot in St. Mary's Free Hospital, New York. The cot for which our readers are contributing is to be placed in Holy Innocents' Ward, and one of the kind ladies who takes care of the little children there, in compliance with a number of requests, has sent us a letter telling how Santa Claus visited the hospital on Christmas. Although Christmas is over, you will all be glad to read her account of the pleasure which came to these sufferers:

St. Mary's Hospital, New York.

Some of you have asked how our little ones spent Christmas-day, and I am very glad to tell you of their happiness. When Christmas-eve came, they were in great excitement, wondering whether Santa Claus found the letters that they had put in the chimney, and whether each one would get what he or she had asked for. As bed-time drew near, we noticed on the part of those who had been up a remarkable desire to get to bed, and, when there, some very unsuccessful attempts at getting to sleep. Seven o'clock found them all quiet, and stockings fastened at the foot of each crib.

By five o'clock the next morning the girls were sitting up in their beds, with the contents of their stockings before them. Now you want to know what they found in those stockings. First, Santa Claus had put in a big orange, then a cornucopia of candy, and then—he had really brought them what they asked for in their letter; if it were too large to go in their stocking, he had put it on the foot of their bed, and on the top of all was a horn. At six they sang their carols. After breakfast all hastened to obtain their horns, and for a while there was a great deal of noise; several had never had a horn before, but they needed no instruction as to how to use it. Between their toys and "playing party" with their candy and oranges, the morning passed quickly away. In the afternoon they had a happy hour with their fathers and friends, telling them of all that Santa Claus had brought, and when bed-time came they were very tired little heads that rested once more on their pillows, and with the oft-repeated wish that "Santa Claus would come again to-night," they were soon fast asleep.

But there was still another treat in store for them. The Christmas tree was on the following Thursday; and a very happy group assembled on that day, not in the ward which you heard about in the last letter, but in the reception-rooms, which are as large as the ward, and could accommodate all the patients. It would take too long to enumerate all that wonderful tree had upon it, so I must leave you to picture it for yourselves, for without doubt you have all seen just such a one, and had some of the pretty things from its branches. It will be enough to tell you that the boys were made happy by soldier caps, guns, and swords, so that with the drum Santa Claus brought they can have a grand parade. And the girls have plenty of dolls to nurse and care for, for although apparently quite rosy and healthy when they came off the tree, yet the very next morning I heard that they were suffering from various diseases, so that the bed, which also was on the tree, was constantly being remade for a new patient as soon as one was pronounced "well enough to sit up." And frequent doses of medicine and pills were administered; these last were the tiniest little round candies, and after many attempts at persuading her child to swallow, the mother would often take one herself to show how easily it was done. While some nurse, the older ones, who have work-boxes, make garments for their tiny patients. Thus the happiness brought by their Christmas gifts will linger with these little ones for many a day, cheering and shortening their weary hours of suffering.

S.

Will the contributors to the Cot Fund kindly observe that money for this purpose is to be sent to Miss E. Augusta Fanshawe, No. 43 New Street, New York City, and not to Messrs. Harper & Brothers.

Medway, Massachusetts.

I have thought for a long time that I would like to write and tell about my two black dolls, Ned and Dinah. They were sent to me for a Christmas present when I was four years old. They came in the cars all alone from Portland, Maine, tied in a little chair. The night they arrived I had gone to bed, and mamma set them up on the piano so that I might see them the first thing when I got up in the morning. At first I was afraid of them; but I soon got over that, and have always loved them the best of all my dolls. I have taken Harper's Young People from the first, and like it better and better. I think Jimmy Brown's stories are very funny.

Mary S. M.

East Liverpool, Ohio.

I live on the banks of the Ohio River, and in a town where they make a great deal of white-ware. Nearly all the little girls and boys that write have pets. I have none except my dolls, and I have five of them. One of them I have not named; could you tell me a nice name for it? The little girls around here have doll parties just for their dolls.

Edna S.

The best thing about doll parties is the fun the dolls' mammas always have on such occasions. Perhaps some little girl will help you name your baby; and when you write again, ask your papa to tell you something about the manufacture of the ware you speak of, so that you can describe it for the little readers of Our Post-office Box.

Washington, D. C.

I have never written to a paper before, but this one is so nice that I must write one letter to it.

Whenever any little girls write and say they wish we would send them some toys or money for the poor children who have nothing, I want to do it very much; but all the toys we have are wanted, and there are no broken ones to fix up and send.

We have only one pet—a pussy. Her name is Black Beauty, because she is black all over, except a white breastpin. In the country where we were this summer there were seven kittens. My little sister and I fed them, and played with them nearly all day. One of them was very gentle. I have often swung it over my shoulder by its tail, and never but once saw it get angry.

I love dolls very dearly, and play with them often. We have eight dolls in our house, and made them three presents apiece Christmas. It is a great deal of fun to make presents for them, and play that they can see and hear us.

I have only three big dolls myself, and one is a great curiosity. She was fourteen years old last September—two years older than I am. Her name is Clara Georgiana.

I have a sweet, cunning little baby, whose name is Anna Aldora. One of her arms is off, and the other is coming.

My best doll is Louise Elizabeth, a fine young lady.

Emily N.

We wish you would promise yourself that you will not swing poor kitty by her tail again; it must be disagreeable and even painful to her, and we are sure you do not wish to hurt one of your pets.

Could not you spare one of your eight dolls for some little convalescent in a hospital, or some girl who has no playthings to amuse herself with? Perhaps, dear, if you choose one of the prettiest, and send her away, you will be surprised to find that the giving it away has made you very happy. You remember Mrs. Lillie's story of "Marjorie's New-Year's Eve," don't you? We know, for we have proved by trying, that the only way to get real enjoyment is to deny ourselves for others.

Orange, New Jersey.

Christmas morning, when we all rushed to the pretty tree, with its bright lights and presents, my little brother Clarence's stocking was squirming around, and out popped a wee black head with two bright eyes, and there was a puppy, all black but its brown feet and two brown spots over its cute little eyes. It weighed one and a half pounds, and is so spry and sweet! I know it has made us more pleasure than all the rest Santa Claus brought us, for we all love it so much! Brother named it Penny right away. If the milk-man does not bring us good fresh milk, Penny will not touch it. Mamma says the milk inspectors ought to have such a "taster."

I wonder if any of the little girls know how to make light, spongy-bread without yeast? Just use flour and water; some call it salt-rising, and some milk-rising, but it can be made nice without milk.

We are always glad when Young People comes.

Nora M. H.

Will not Nora ask her mamma to send Our Post-office Box the precise receipt for this bread?

Walhalla, South Carolina.

Happy New Year! In reading the letters published in Young People I have never seen one from here. May not one of the girls write? Our little town nestles at the very feet of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Those who live near the mountains can imagine how lovely a view they present. Last night it snowed, and they look prettier than ever. We have two very good colleges here, male and female. I go to the one, and brother to the other. I love our dear president, Dr. S. Tell Marie Louise Usher I wish I had something to offer in exchange for her deer horns; also, to write again, for I enjoy her letters. Have the girls and boys many pets? I have four. I love dogs, but not cats. As this is my first time, I will write no more.

Kitty.

Fulton, Tennessee.

I live on the Mississippi River, and we can see boats from our house. I think your little paper is so nice. I love to hear the boats coming, because I then know that my paper will soon arrive. I have two of the loveliest puppies you ever saw. Their names are Blanche and Ruby. They are pure white. I have also two cats—Paul Myrick and Susie Silver. Susie hardly ever comes home. One day mamma and myself heard a mouse in the wood-box, and we caught her and put her in the box. She caught the mouse in a hurry. I got a nice Bible on Christmas, with my name on it, and a large wax doll too. I have seven dolls now. Good-by.

A. L. M.

Oswego, Kansas.

This is the first time I have written to this paper, and I would like to tell about Christmas. There was a Christmas tree here; I got a few presents, but not many. I have not any pets to speak of. I am staying at my grandmother's now, and go to school, and read in a Fourth Reader, and I am nine years of age.

Clinton D.

C. Y. P. R. U.

The Seven Sleepers of Ephesus.—An allusion was made in this column a few weeks ago to the long sleep of Rip Van Winkle, whose story is told by Washington Irving. Rip was the village good-for-nothing, a kind-hearted fellow, who had the bad habit of drinking to excess, and who spent hours in lounging about with his dog and gun when he ought to have been earning food for his family. It was little wonder that Dame Van Winkle scolded and stormed.

Rip's home was in a nook of the Catskill Mountains. One day he wandered off in search of game. He met some queer old fellows playing at nine-pins, and they left their keg of liquor where Rip could taste it, while they gravely rolled their balls about. Rip took several tastes, and finally fell asleep.

He supposed that he had slept only one night; but when he awakened, stiff and sore, and made his way down the hills to the settlement, tradition says that he had slept no less than twenty years. His wife was dead. His old comrades were gone. His little girl had a chubby child of her own in her arms. The war of the Revolution had been fought. The face of the world had changed.

Now the Postmistress wants to tell you something very curious about this legend of Rip Van Winkle. Like many other myths, it is found, in different forms, in far-away countries and remote periods. The Greeks had something like it in the exquisite story of the shepherd Endymion; but Endymion did not grow old and gray in his slumbers, as Rip did. In Scandinavian mythology there is a legend of Siegfrid lying sound asleep, but awaiting, a call to fight when his country shall need him. In Bohemia three miners are supposed to be dreaming in the heart of the lonely hills. But the most picturesque of all the stories is the one I am about to tell you of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus. It is also very ancient.

In the days of the Emperor Diocletian the Christians at Ephesus were persecuted. All who refused to worship idols were condemned to death.

Maximian, Malchus, Marcian, Dionysius, John, Serapion, and Constantine were seven young men of noble birth. They said they would never deny their Lord and Master Jesus Christ. The Emperor gave them a few days to consider their course, telling them that they would certainly be executed unless they obeyed him. They divided their goods among the poor, and retired together to a cave in Mount Celion, where they fell asleep.

Diocletian hunted for them everywhere, but they could not be found. He blocked up with great stones the mouth of the very cavern in which they were, thinking that if they were hidden in its recesses they would not escape his wrath, but would die of hunger.

More than two centuries passed away. Then, according to tradition, an Ephesian building a stable on the side of Mount Celion took a fancy to the big stones in the cave's mouth. He carried them away, daylight poured in, the sounds of the outside world penetrated the silence, and the Seven Sleepers rubbed their eyes, awoke, and felt hungry. It was to them as though they had slept but one day.

Malchus went into the city to buy some food. Everything was strange to him. Everywhere, on houses and temples, he saw the sign of the cross. He heard men using Christ's name. When he went into a baker's shop to buy a loaf, and offered in payment a coin more than two hundred years old, the people stared, and the baker, who happened to be a coin collector, wanted to know where he had discovered so great a treasure. And Malchus, bewildered and confused, was taken before the Governor and the Bishop, and to them he told simply how he and his friends had gone to hide from danger, and how they had fallen asleep, and had just awakened. Then he led the great men and the crowd who followed them to the place where his six companions were impatiently waiting for him to return.

There they were, young, beautiful and blooming. But they were in a world which they did not know, and which did not know them, so the beautiful story says that God kindly took them to Himself before long in the sweet sleep which has no waking on earth.

Washington, D. C.

Dear Postmistress,—I read a letter in Young People, from St. Clair, Michigan, in which a little girl asks you for a name for a club of five, and some suggestions as to pleasant work, and I thought I would write to you about the club I belong to. There are five of us, and our name is the "T. J. G.'s." It was a profound secret for a long time what T. J. G. meant; but one of the girls forgot, and let it slip out. We fined her five cents; and now I suppose I may tell you—The Jolly Girls. Our badge is a bow of garnet ribbon, with a tiny bell fastened to it. We meet every Friday evening, and spend two or three hours in reading and conversation. Some one reads aloud. Our last book was Dr. Gilbert's Daughters. If any one is absent, she must pay a penny into the club fund. We are saving our money to buy books. During the holidays we had a little party, and invited eighteen of our friends. We had dancing and refreshments, and one of the city papers complimented our entertainment very highly. I am nine years old. I have had Young People from the first number. I like fairy stories better than any other kind. Washington looked like fairy-land on Christmas. My mother says that it is the most beautiful city in the world except Paris.

M. Josephine C.

As I have just been reading Dr. Gilbert's Daughters myself, I can imagine what a pleasant time you five T. J. G.'s have had over the troubles of May and Fay. There is a great deal of poetry in fairy stories, and I suppose that is why most people are so very fond of them. I think your badge is very pretty and unique, and I wish other girls and boys who belong to little clubs and circles would write and tell me about them.

C. Y. P. R. U. means Chautauqua Young People's Reading Union, and the papers prepared for the select reading of its members, and published in Harper's Young People from week to week, are recommended and approved by the Rev. Dr. J. H. Vincent, president of the parent society which bears the familiar and now celebrated name of Chautauqua. We state this for the benefit of some of our new subscribers, who do not understand the five mystic letters at the head of this column.

We would call the special attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. to a most interesting article on music, by Mrs. John Lillie, entitled "About Crotchets and Quavers"; and to "Home Gymnastics for Stormy Days," wherein Sherwood Ryse explains to the boys and girls how they may keep their muscles exercised and their cheeks rosy even though confined in-doors by bad weather. They will also be interested in the account of the sheep-dogs of the Scottish Highlands given under the title of "The Shepherd's Friends"; and in Mr. J. M. Murphy's account of "A Deer Hunt in the Rocky Mountains," the incidents of which were drawn from the practical experience of this well-known hunter.

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from "The Two Orphans," John Fred Hilton, C. A., Mabel B. Canon, Mary E. White, M. F. Tomes, Willie Volckhausen, "Lodestar," Wilfred J. Vrooman, George A. Simpson, Patchie Clark, Nellie J. Flagler, John Phelan, Frank Van Dorn, Ella Banks, Louie Price, Helena Sanders, George Hicks, Jennie May Ridgway, "Queen Bess," Richard W. Coutts.

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

A LADDER.

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The bars are respectively a cotton cloth, a weapon, marine substances, a beautifier, and an intruder. From the sides an ingenious person will spell the name of an immortal book, and find out its author.

Kitty Clover.

No. 2.

AN ACROSTIC.

1. A musical instrument. 2. A girl's name. 3. A coin. 4. The past. 5. Urns. 6. A mountain range. 7. A part of the day. 8. Repose. 9. A door. 10. A portion of the house. 11. Trees. 12. A period of duration. The first letters spell the name of a gentlewoman famous in English history.

Alice Chisholm.

No. 3.

TWO EASY WORD SQUARES.

1.—1. A small insect. 2. A melody. 3. Points. 4. Pipes.

2.—1. A giant. 2. Increased. 3. Advice. 4. A pitcher.

Johnnie M.

No. 4.

ENIGMA.

In sleep, not in wake. In sunshine, not in cloud. In opal, not in flake. In wrapper, not in shroud. In singing, not in crying. In shouting, not in sighing. In opening, not in shutting. In ripping, not in cutting. In mounting, not in standing. Silent, swift, grand, expanding. Which poet tells my story? Who am I, and what's my glory? Mother Bunch.

No. 5.

THREE CHARADES.

1.

The little maid with whom you played Would be a chatter-box. But that my second round my first Unfortunately locks; So blushing in her pride, she sits And mends her father's socks.

2.

My first is on the milk-maid seen, And on the belted knight, And on the champion cricketer, And on the lady bright. My second's scattered everywhere In earth and air and sea. And for my third, it's owned to be The birthright of the free. And in my whole, if trouble come, All patriots in a trice Would march in armor to the front, Though life should be the price.

3.

My first is without color.

My second is without beauty.

My whole is always useful, and is an adjunct of the beautiful.

McIvor.

No. 6.

TWO HALF-SQUARES.

1.—1. A grain. 2. Warmth. 3. To take food. 4. A preposition. 5. A letter.

2.—1. Rubbish. 2. An eruption. 3. A tree. 4. A lullaby. 5. An aspirate.

Charlie.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 115.

No. 1.

A pair of skates.

No. 2.

TY

AREBOA

TREESYOUNG

EELAND

SG

No. 3.

MinD

AmbI

CatholiC

BeaK

ExhalE

ToN

HiS

No. 4.

Scissors.

No. 5.

Honesty is the best policy. Test. No. Hoist. Bite. Lye. Honey. Spice.

[For Exchanges, see 2d & 3d pages of cover.]

SOME MUMPS.