OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 661, 24 October 1884, Page 4

OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN. By Louisa M. Alcott. I.—Bears. (Continued.) ‘I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t see him suffer,’ she said. ‘ Now, if you will buy Tom I’ll give you my five dollars to help, and Mr Hitchcock will forgive me and be glad to get rid of both the bears. After some consultation Tom was bought, and orders were sent to have a house built for him in a sunny corner of the garden, with strong rings to which to chain him, and a good lock on the door. When he was settled in these new quarters, he held daily receptions for some weeks. Young and old came to see him, and Fred showed off his menagerie with the pride of a budding Barnum. A bare spot was soon worn on the grass-plot which made Tom’s parade-ground, and .at all hours the poor fellow might be seen dancing and drilling, or sitting at . his door, thoughtfully surveying the curious crowd, and privately 7 wishing he never had been born. Here he lived for another y 7 ear, getting so big that he could hardly turnaround in his house, and so cross that Fred began to be a little afraid of him, after several hugs much too vehement to be safe or agreeable. One morning the door of the house was found broken off, and Tom was gone. Fred wa3 rather relieved; but his father was anxious, and ordered out the boys of the neighborhood to find the runaway, lest he should alarm people or do some harm. It was an easy 7 matter to trace him, for more than one terrified woman had seen the big brown beast sniffing around her kitchen premises after food; a whole schoolful. of children had been startled out of their wits by a bear’s head at the window ; and one old farmer was in a towering rage over the damage done to his beehives and gardenpatch by ‘ that pesky critter, afore he took to the woods.’

After a long search poor Tom was found rolled up in a sunny nook, resting after a glorious frolic. He went home without much reluctance, but from that time it was hard to keep him. Bolts and bars, chains and ropes-were of little use ; for when. the longing came, off he went, on one occasion carrying the house on his back, like a snail, till he tipped it over and broke loose. Fred was quite worn out with his pranks, and tried to sell or give him away ; but nobody would buy or accept such a troublesome pet. Even tender-hearted Fan gave him up, when he frightened a little child into convulsions, and had killed seme sheep on his last holiday. It was decided that he must be killed, and a party of men, ai’med with guns, set out one afternoon to carry the sentence into effect. Fred went also to see that all was properly done, and Fanny called after him with tears in her eyes : ‘ Say good bye to him for me.’

This time Tom had been gone more than a week, and had evidently made up his mind to become a free bear ; for he had wandered far in the deepest wood and made a den for himself among the rocks. Here they found him but could not persuade him to come out, and no bold Putnam was in the troop who would creep in and conquer him there. * We have fooled away time enough, and.l want to get home to supper,’ said the leader of the hunt, after many attempts had been made to lure or drive Tom from his shelter.

So they fired a volley into the den, and growls of pain proved that some of the bullets had hit. And as no answering sound followed the second volley, the hunters concluded that their object was accomplished, and went home, agreeing to come the next day to make sure. They were spared the trouble, however, for when Fred looked from his window in the morning he saw that Tom had returned. He ran down to welcome the rebel back. But one look showed him that the poor beast had only come home to die ; for he was covered with wounds and lay moaning on his bed of straw, looking as pathetic as a bear could look. Fanny cried over him, and Fred was quite bowed down with remorse; but nothing could be done, and within an hour poor Tom was dead. As if to atone for their seeming cruelty, Fanny draped the little house with black, and Fred‘ resisting all temptations to keep the bear’s fine skin, buried him like a warrior, ‘ with his martial cloak arouud him,’ in the green woods he loved so well. ll. —Boys. The next tenants of the little house were three riotous lads, —for Fred’s family had moved away,—and the new-comers took possession one fine day with great rejoicing over this ready-made plaything. They were imaginative little fellows, of eleven, twelve, and fourteen; for having read the ‘ Boys’ Froissart ’ and other warlike works, they were quite carried away by these stirring tales, and each boy was some sjiecial hero. Harry, the eldest, was Henry of Navarre, and wore a white plume on every occasion. Ned was the Black Prince, and clanked in tin armor, while little Billy was William Tell and William Wallace by turns. Tom’s deserted mansion underwent astonishing changes about this time. Bows and arrows hung on its walls ; battle-axes, lances, and guns stood in the corners ; helmets, shields, and all manner of strange weapons adorned the rafters ; cannons peeped from its port-holes ; a drawbridge swung over the moat that soon surrounded it ; the flags of all nations -waved from its roof, and the small house was by turns an armoury, a fort, a castle, a robber’s cave, a wigwam, and the Bastile. The neighbors were both amused and scandalised by the pranks of these dramatic young persons ; for they enacted with much spirit aud skill all the historical events which pleased their fancy, and speedily enlisted other boys to join in the new plays. At one time, painted and be-featliered In-

dians whooped about the garden, tomahawking the unhappy settlers in the most dreadful manner. At another, Achilles, radiant in a tin helmet and boiler-cover shield, dragged Hector at the tail of his chariot (the wheel-barrow), drawn by two antic and antique steeds, who upset both victor and vanquished before the fun was over. Tell shot bushels of apples off the head of the stuffed suit of clothes that acted his son, Coeur de Leon and Saladin hacked blocks and cut cushions A la Walter Scott, and tournaments of great splendour were held on the grass, in which knights of all ages, climes, and races tilted gallantly, while fair dames of tender years sat upon the woodpile to play Queens of Beauty and award the prize of valor. Nor were modern heroes forgotten. Napoleon crossed the Alps (a hay-rick, high fence, and prickly hedge) with intrepid courage. Wellington won many a Waterloo in the melon-patch, and Washington glorified many a corner of the garden by his heroic exploits. Grant smoked sweet-fern cigars at the fall of Richmond; Sherman marched victoriously to Georgia through the corn and round the tomato bed, and Phil Sheridan electrified the neighborhood by tearing down the road on a much-enduring donkey, stung to unusual agility by something tied to his tail.

It grew to be an almost daily question among the young people, ‘ What are the Morton boys at now ?’ for these interesting youths were much admired by their mates, who eagerly manned the fences to behold the revels, when scouts brought word of. a new play going on. Mrs Morton believed in making boys happy at home, and so allowed them entire liberty in the great garden, as it was safer than river, streets, or ballground, where a very mixed crowd was to be found. Here they were under her own eye, and the safe, sweet tie between them still held fast; for she was never too busy to bind- up their wounds after a fray, wave her handkerchief when cheers told of victory, rummage her store for costumes, or join in their eager study of favorite heroes when rain put an end to their out-of-doors fun. So the summer was a lively one, and though the vegetables suffered some damage a good crop of healthy, happy hours was harvested, and all were satisfied. The little house looked much the worse for the raids made upon it, but still stood firm with the stars and stripes waving over it, and peace seemed to reign. one October afternoon as the boys lay under the trees eating apples and planning what to play next. 4 Bobby wants to be a Knight of the Round Table.- We might take him in and have fun with the rites, and make him keep a vigil and all that,’ proposed William Wallace, anxious to admit his chosen friend to the inner circle of the brotherhood.

4 He's such a little chap, he’d be scared and howl. I don’t vote for that,’ said the Black Prince, rather scornfully, as he lay with his kingly legs in the air, and his royal mouth full of apple. 4 1 do !’ declared Henry of NaYaire, always generous and amiable. 4 Bob is a plucky little chap, and will do anything we put him to. He’s poor, and the other fellows look down on him, so that’s another, reason why we ought to take him in and stand by him. Let’s give him a good trial, and if he’s brave we’ll have him.’

(To be Continued.)