



Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE]

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VOL. III.--NO. 123. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, March 7, 1882. Copyright, 1882, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per
Year, in Advance.

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[Illustration: "I DON'T BELIEVE THE PEOPLE OF THE EARTH WOULD HAVE DARED
TO TREAT YOU AS THEY HAVE TREATED US."]

FATHER TIME'S DILEMMA.

BY RAJA.


There was a commotion in the moon. Father Time had the rheumatism in
both legs, and could not move from his seat by the fire-place. This was
a horrible state of affairs. For thousands upon thousands of
years--nobody knows how many--he had never failed to make his visit to
the earth, and now he was helpless; and what would be the result of a
day's neglect of duty? Perhaps the world would come to an end; for with
the end of Time, what else could be expected? At all events, his
reputation would be ruined, and the bare idea made him writhe and groan.

"My dear, pray be more careful," said his wife, anxiously. "If you toss
your arms about in that reckless fashion, you will certainly do some
mischief. I have picked up your scythe seven times, and your hour-glass
was just on the point of tumbling from the table."

"Let it tumble," growled Father Time, crossly. "If my reputation goes,
what do I care for the hour-glass? Aïe! aïe! where do you suppose I took
this rheumatism? Never dreamed that I could have it at my age, after all
the draughts that I've been exposed to. It must have been that dreadful
eclipse that made the air so chilly."

At this there went up such a howl from the Moon that all the inhabitants
of Venus, which happened to be in the neighborhood, thought there was a
thunder-storm. Father Time's billions and trillions of children had just
come quietly into his room to ask how he felt, and when they heard their
usually gentle parent express himself in such impatient tones they
thought he must certainly be delirious, and wept aloud in anguish. He
was rather ashamed of his burst of passion when he saw how they took it
to heart, and hung his head for a while, upon which his wife tried to
comfort him.

"It's almost time for Sol to go to earth, and how can he if I'm not with
him? I shall go crazy if this state of things continues."

"Papa," cried two billion of his children, "why could not we take your
place for to-day?"

"Oh yes," echoed all the rest; "we do so long to be useful!"

A gleam of hope lighted their father's gloomy face, but he looked a bit
doubtful. "Are you sure that you know what to do and where to go? You
have not my power of ubiquity; that is to say, you can not be everywhere
at once as I am."

"But there are more than enough of us to go around," answered the
children. "Each one of us will spend the day by the side of some mortal,
and we are sure you will not be missed. As for old Sol, it will be easy
enough to explain your absence to him. It is all his fault for letting
himself be eclipsed."

"Very well, then, my dear children; go, and success attend you. Do not
forget our family motto." He stretched out both his arms in blessing,
and solemnly pronounced the words "Tempus fugit."

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Earth's daylight had fled, and all its inhabitants were soundly
sleeping. Father Time's children trooped back into his room, and a more
dejected multitude was never seen before. With very few exceptions, they
were all pale and tired and forlorn. He looked at them for a moment, and
then a sly twinkle crept into his eyes as he said:

"What is the matter, children? Haven't you enjoyed your day on the
earth?"

They raised their heads to groan an emphatic "No," and wearily let them
drop again.

"Why, you have envied me my daily trip there for ages"--they gave a sigh
in unison--"and never would believe me