Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 April 1894 — FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. [ARTICLE]

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.

THE SWEDISH STAR BOY. You have heard of the Star Boy? Maybe not, for he lives in Sweden, which is a long way off, and, as our story books do not tell about him, it might easily happen that you would know nothing of a mysterious little fellow who is a part of the nursery tales of every boy and girl in Sweden. The duty of the Star Boy is to hang out the stars in the heavens, and when he does so, it is a signal to the rain drops, the snow and the hail that they are to stay away until the Star Boy has taken the stars in again. When the Star Boy thinks there has been enough bad weather, he goes out with his arms full of stars and hangs them up as signals. He does his work very prettily, and very beautiful figures are formed in the heavens by the arrangement of the stars. The children of Sweden often salute the Star Boy when they see the stars beginning to appear in the dark sky above, and they call out, looking upward to the stars: “Please, good Star Boy, be kind enough to hang out many stars so that we may go forth to play tomorrow ! We have had rain enough! Hang out the stars, we pray thee, that we may enjoy the sunshine once more 1” After thus addressing the Star Boy, the little Swedes are taught to believe by the nursery stories that it will always be pleasant next day if the Star Boy listens to them and hangs out the stars. But if the skies remain dark and the Star Boy heeds not the prayer, the next day may be rainy and cold. We do not in this country believe in the Star Boy, but it will do no harm to watch the weather next time we see him hanging out the stars.—[Ledger.

THE WONDERFUL AXE. Bobbie Smith sat on a big log, crying as though his heart would break, for he had so much wood to chop for his mother before he could go out with the boys to play; and, oh, how he hated to begin 1 Bobbie had lost his father, so he had to help mother a little when home from school. He sat on the log, thinking what a hard task he had, when, to his surprise, the new axe which his mother had bought him jumped up and began to speak. “Say, Bobbie,” it said, “what are you crying for? Don’t cry. Be a man. I will chop your wood, and without your aid, too.” And the axe began to chop, and Bobbie saw such piles of wood growing higher and higher, and he felt as though he could not thank the axe enough. But the axe still kept on chop! chop! chop! and soon the yard was full, but the axe never tired, and soon Bobbie could see no house at all —only wood. At last the axe stopped and asked if he had enough. “Oh, yes!” said Bobbie, “but how can I get home? All I see is wood.” “That, Bobbie,” replied the axe, “you must find out. Then poor Bobbie began to cry, and, on, how he wished he had chopped the wood himself! He climbed and climbed, and his poor little legs—how they ached! At last he was so tired he sat down, and he could hear such beautiful singing, and there in front of him appeared the axe. As soon as the axe saw Bobbie it changed into the most beautiful fairy. “Well, Bobbie.” said the fairy, “how would you like to live so high above the houses?” and Bobbie looked down, and all the houses and churches looked as small as his Noah’s Ark, and the boys like matches running about. He felt very hungry, too, so he said: “Oh, dear, good fairy, will you not get me down to my dear mother again?” “Yes,” said the fairy, “but you must promise that you will never grumble again.” “Oh, never!” said Bobbie. So the pretty fairy kissed him and waved a golden rod, and Bobbie found himself sitting on the log and his mother chopping the wood for him, and he ran and put his arms around her neck, and said she should never chop wood again, and while eating his supper he told her about the dream he had had.—[New York Recorder.

AN INDIAN BOY’S TRAINING. The training of the Sioux boy begins when he listens to the songs of war, the songs of the chase, and the songs of the “Great Mystery,” or Wakantanka; and these are the lullabies which we heard in our infancy. Of course there were some boys who were deprived of the training they needed, even ip wild life; but the true and loving parents were as ambitious and hopeful for their children as any civilized and educated parents could be. Very early the Indian boy assumed the task of preserving and transmitting the legends and stories of his ancestors and his race. Almost every evening a myth, or a legend of some deed done in the past, was narrated by one of the parents or grandparents, and to it the boy listened with parted mouth and shining eyes. On the following evening he was usually required to repeat it. If he was not an apt scholar, he struggled long with his task; but, as a rule, the Indian boy is a good listener and has a good memory, so that the stories were tolerably well mastered. The household became his audience, by whom he was alternately criticized and applauded. This sort of teaching at once enlightens the boy’s mind and stimulates his ambition. His conception of his own future career becomes a vivid and irresistible force. ‘Whatever there is for him to acquire must be acquired; whatever qualifications are necessary to a truly great warrior

and hunter, he must seek at any expense of danger and hardship. Such was the feeling of the imaginative and brave young Indian. It becomes apparent to him early in life that he must accustom himself to rove alone, and not to fear or dislike the impression of solitude, but acquaint himself thoroughly with nature. Much has been said about Indian children’s “instincts.” To be sure, we inherited some of the characteristics of our ancestors, but the greater part of our faculties we had to acquire by practice. All the stoicism and patience of the Indian are acquired traits. Physical training and dieting were not neglected. I remember I was not allowed to drink beef soup or any warm drink. The soup was for the old men. The general rules for the young were never to eat their food very hot, nor to drink much water. My uncle, who educated me, was a severe and strict teacher. When I left his teepee for the day, he would say to me: “Hakada, watch everything closely and observe its characteristics” ; and at evening, on my return, he used to catechize me for an hour or so. “On which side of the trees is the lighter-colored bark? On which side do they have most regular branches?” It was his custom to let me name all the new' birds that I had seen during the day. I would name them according to the color, or habits, or the shape of the bill, or their song, or the appearance and locality of the nest—in fact., anything about the bird which impressed me as characteristic. I made many ridiculous errors, I must admit. He then usually informed me of the correct name. Occasionally I made a hit, and this he would warmly commend.—[St. Nicholas.