Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 May 1894 — FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. [ARTICLE]

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.

THE TWO LITTLE MEN. There were two little men of ye olden tyme Us their manners so very proud That each would try to outdo in grace The other, whene’er they bowed. They would bend, and bend, and bend so low That finally, it was said, Their three-cornered hats would touch the ground And then each stood on his head I —[Malcolm Douglas, in St. Nicholas. "all but” and “exactly.” “Did you do exactly as Mr. Wilkins told you?” inquired mamma. “Yes,” answered Bobby, “all but “All but—all but putting the covers over!” interrupted Fred. “Putting the covers over!” said mamma. “Yes, over the pails. After we had bored the holes and put in the plugs and hung the pails on the tree-trunks, Mr. Wilkins told us we’d better put covers over them, ’cause it would keep the sticks and bark and everything out of the maple syrup I” “But there wasn’t anything in the syrup!” declared Fred, “so it’severy bit as good! I don’t know where it has gone, mamma, for there was ’most a boiler full, and Mr. Wilkins said, ‘Boil it hard and fast, boys.’ That is just what he said, mamma!” Two sorry little faces looked into the boiler, now nearly empty. The “sap” was as thin and white as water, and in spite of all Bobby’s endeavors, with a big iron spoon as an aid, nota tiny bit of sugar could be found. Mamma tried to look very sober, but her eyes would twinkle. “What have I always told you boys?” she asked. “Always to mind everything you tell us!” answered Bobby and Fred together. “We had a severe storm last night, and what do you think your pails' were full of?” mamma inquired. “I don’t know,” said Fred. ‘ ‘Full of rain-water I ’ ’ said mamma. “But they were half-full before yesterday,” asserted Bobby, “halffull of really and truly sap, mamma!” “And then the rain came,” continued mamma, “and filled the pails over and over again till there 'Jas nosap left.” “It would have been such fun tomake our own maple sugar,” sobbed Fred. “Supposing you do it all over, and do it exactly,” suggested mamma. “Maybe we could,” said Bobby. So they made their maple sugar after all.—[Youth’s Companion.

SID AND THE PORPOISE. A dilapidated yawl lay high and dry on the beach, and leaning carelessly against it was a lad who would have made a good study for an artist. His blue-jeans overalls were rolled up to his knees and held in place by one suspender, his check shirt was fastened at the throat with a piece of rope-yarn; on his head was a straw hat with a tattered brim and a fringed hole in the crown, through which protruded a lock of very carroty hair; his face was covered with freckles, his hands and feet were brown, and his name was Sid Brown. His father kept the marine railway on which the fishing-smacks, oystersloops, and coasting-schooners werehauled up for repairs. Sid was what the boys in the neighborhood called a “tough nut”; he could swim like a duck, run like a deer, and sail a boat “into the wind’s eye” with the best man on the beach. He was about ten years of age, and spent the summer in clamming, crabbing, and fishing in the bay, and in the winter attended the district school on the main land. As he leaned against the boat he was whistling softly and shaping with his jack-knife an oak block into a thole-pin for his little dingey, that lay at the water’s edge and from which protruded the handles of an eel-spear and a crabbing-net. Having finished his whistling to his satisfaction, he fitted the thole-pin into its place, pushed off his boat, jumped in and paddled slowly up the bay where, the tide being low, the seagrass was plainly visible, making dashes here and there with his net at a stray crab and dropping the astonished and wriggling shell-fish into his boat.

He had not been long at this work when he spied the tail of a large fish about a foot above the surface of the water, right in his path. Quick as a flash and noiselessly h® skipped to the bow of his boat, made a slipnoose of the painter, and waited patiently as he dropped slowly down on the fish. As he came within reach he dropped the noose over the flukes of the tail, and with a quick jerk drew it tight; the fish felt the tightened rope and plunged and struggled to free himself, breaking through the sea-weed and making his way toward deep water. Sid sprang into the stem of his boat and was soon flying down the bay, surrounded with spray and foam, toward the outer bar. Several fishermen who were catching oysters in deep water near the channel were very much surprised to see a small dingey harnessed to the tail of a big fish flying through the water, while a small boy with arms folded sat calmly in the stern. As the apparition flew past they instinctively pulled up their anchors and gave chase, but as a ‘ ‘stern chase is a long chase” they had covered several miles before the tired fish relaxed his speed and came to the surface to breathe; then, attacking him with clam-rakes and oar-butts with great vigor, he was soon obliged to give in, and several boats having ‘‘hitched on,” he was slowly towed ashore, where it was discovered that Sid had harnessed his little boat to a porpoise nine feet in length. The fatty parts were distributed among those who had participated I in his capture, for porpoise-oil is highly prized by fishermen as a sure cure for sprains, bruises, and the rheumatism, and the good housewives preserved it with care, and, recommending it in cases of emergency, would never fail to recount the adventure of Sid and the porpoise. —{Frank Leslie’s.