



Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE
AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]

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VOL. II.--NO. 61. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, December 28, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.

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[Illustration: THE FIRST NEW-YEAR'S CALL.--SEE NEXT PAGE.]

A HAPPY NEW YEAR.


On the first page of this New-Year's number of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE is
a picture of the first New-Year's call of the season, which is one made
at the door of every house in the land just as the clock strikes twelve
on New-Year's Eve.

The little fur-clad figure knocking for admittance is that of New Year
himself, Master Eighteen Eighty-One, laden with promises and good wishes
that will, we hope, insure him a warm welcome from the sleepy watchers
within the cozy room to which he seeks to enter. Even Miss Dolly, whom
the children have left on the cricket in the corner to watch the old
year out and the new one in, and who does not look at all sleepy, will
welcome the little stranger in her own way, and he will quickly be made
to feel at home.

Now watch for him, dear children; he will surely come to every door, and
when he arrives, welcome him warmly, and make up your minds to do
everything in your power to make him the very happiest New Year that
ever was.




"PRINCE CHARLIE."

BY KATHERINE KAMERON.


Christmas was over. The twins, Allan and Jessie, had romped and played
away the whole delightful day, in doors and out.

Wonderful to tell, they had wearied of all the pretty new toys, and
found an end to play. After tea they sat quietly in the fire-glow,
talking with mamma about the beautiful new picture that was her gift to
them. It was a charming group of gayly dressed children--little Princes
and a Princess, the children of the unhappy King Charles I. of England.
The tallest was a handsome boy, in a suit of scarlet velvet, with a
broad collar of rich old lace. He held by the hand a tiny tot, in a
frilled cap and a dress of blue silk, who timidly clung to the
protecting arm of his big brother. The third was a quaint little damsel
in a robe of creamy satin, standing with her dainty hands demurely
folded before her. Her long stately dress touched the floor with its
border of Vandyck points, and her small head was curiously dressed in a
by-gone courtly fashion. About her pretty throat was a necklace of
costly pearls, and she looked the perfect model of a tiny old-time lady
of high degree. A pair of graceful spaniels crouched at the feet of the
children, and behind them was a curtain of some rich foreign stuff. The
fire-light flashed on the sweet young faces and shining auburn hair,
touching the waves and curls, while the shadows danced and nickered
until it seemed to Allan that the bright eyes smiled back to him as he
looked up. It was like a pleasant dream, and Allan's blue eyes grew
slowly dim and dimmer. Jessie's eyelids had been drooping from the time
mamma began to tell about the royal children, and directly the twins
were fast asleep. Papa came in, and mamma laughed with him at the effect
of her story, and then the little sleepers were playfully shaken until
they were wide awake enough to walk up stairs.

There was a sleepy good-night kiss all around, a double "Now I lay me,"
and two heads nestled down on two soft pillows, and the long delightful
Christmas-day was quite gone.

In almost no time Allan felt a hand on his shoulder, and a voice said,
softly, "Allan, Allan, wake up, my man, and come and show me about the
things."

Allan turned over, rubbed his dazed eyes, and then jumped straight up in
bed, winking and blinking in wonder at what he saw. Standing beside his
bed was a handsome lad, about his own size, in a scarlet velvet suit.
The stranger was laughing merrily at his surprise, as he spoke again:
"My good fellow, don't sit staring at me, but put on your doublet and
the rest, and come on. We have not long to stay." At this, Allan glanced
through the open door of Jessie's room, and there by her bed he saw in
the moonlight the dainty little dame in the trailing satin. She was
whispering to Jessie. In an instant the visitors vanished hand in hand
through the doorway, and the children heard their soft footfalls on the
stairway. "Prince Charlie! Princess Mary!" was all they said, but they
fairly danced into their clothes, and then ran quickly down to the
library; and when the door opened, what a strange sight met their
astonished eyes! There was a famous fire in the grate, and by the bright
blaze they saw Prince Charlie mounted, on the new velocipede, tugging at
the bridle, and cracking his whip until it snapped again, but the queer
steed moved not a pace. The little Princess sat holding
Nannette--Jessie's French doll--speechless with delight. She turned the
pretty head from side to side, she moved the arms and feet, she examined
the tiny kid boots with their high heels. Then she admired the long
gloves with no end of buttons, and the scrap of a bonnet, made of shreds
of flower and feather in a wonderful way, and perched on a high tower of
fluffy flossy hair.

"Do you like it, Princess Mary?" asked Jessie, most respectfully.

"Oh, it is bonny," was the answer; "so much prettier than any I ever
saw. Is your father a great King, and does he have such wonderful dolls
made for you?" she asked.

"Oh, dear me, no, Princess," said Jessie, hastily, and wanting very much
to laugh. "My father is a great doctor, though. We have no Kings in our
country."

"No Kings!" echoed the little lady, incredulously. "Who reigns, then?
But do not say Princess every time; call me Mary. We must go back so
soon, and I have a hundred questions to ask about so many strange
things. We are very tired of looking at them from up there," glancing at
the picture.

"Indeed, we have longed to get down close by you ever since we came,"
exclaimed the Prince. "I am sure you saw us smile at you last evening,"
he added.

"So I was right," cried Allan, joyfully. "I thought so;" and looking up
to the picture, he saw the pretty spaniels quite alone against the rich
drapery. They were huddled together in a lonely way, a silky heap of
noses and paws. At Prince Charlie's voice one of them threw up his head
for a dismal howl, but at a sign from his young master he patiently
curled down to wait.

The Princess missed Jamie, and turned to look for him. There, in a
corner on the floor, sat the baby Duke, in his sky-blue silk, dancing
Jessie's droll Japanese "Ning-Ping" until the limp arms and legs fairly
flew. He stopped a moment to look into the narrow sleepy eyes, and to
touch the long braid that hung down behind, and the stiff little fringe,
like a brush, on top of the queer head, and then again the legs and arms
rattled a tune, while Jamie's round, solemn eyes seemed not even to
wink, so intent and wondering was his look. In the mean time his stately
sister held Nannette close in her arms, as she moved about, looking,
listening, and questioning.

Just then Jamie called, softly, "Charlie! Charlie! Mary! come and see."

The little fellow had found a box of jointed wooden animals and people.
He was twisting the legs and arms and paws and wings into all manner of
shapes, and then standing up the funny wry shapes, and laughing in high
glee.

Allan noticed how quietly they all spoke and moved. Even when they
laughed heartily, or called out, they did not make any loud noise. He
wondered if it was being pictures so long had made them so still.

Presently Jessie took her lacquered box, full of small treasures, from
the table to the sofa, where the two girls cozily seated themselves. All
of the simple, pretty things seemed equally new and curious to the
little stranger. Jessie tried to have the Princess Mary keep a few
trifles which she seemed most to admire, but in vain; she only drew up
her small quaint figure, and said, quietly, "A Princess may not accept
gifts." Somehow, although she smiled graciously, this little speech
troubled Jessie, who feared she had been rude, although she did not in
the least know how.

Duke Jamie had in the mean time wearied of his wooden people, and went
wandering about in his baby fashion, but never for a moment dropping
Ning-Ping. Just then he spied his brother careering around on the
velocipede, having learned from Allan how to manage it. Of course Jamie
cried for a ride, and fortunately got it. While the Prince was whirling
round, Allan had wound up his engine with the long train of passenger
coaches, and sent it spinning across the floor in front of the fire. In
a twinkling Prince Charlie jumped down to see the new wonder. The
Princess at once lifted Jamie astride of the strange steed, and with one
arm about him, walked in a motherly way by his side, pushing the curious
vehicle.

"What is this long carriage?" asked young Royalty.

"Only a steam-engine and train of cars," was the reply.

"But where is the steam?" said the Prince.

"Oh, there is none here; this goes by wheels, like a clock; but the real
cars that we travel on run by steam."

The long train began to creep slowly, and the wheels whirred and buzzed
a little in running down. Allan handed the key to his guest, and Prince
Charlie wound it up with a zest, and watched it awhile; then he turned
to Allan with, "I say, how do they run by steam?"

"Why, the steam is made by the fire under the engine boiler, like a big
tea-kettle," explained Allan, carefully, and feeling like a professor;
"this turns the engine wheels somehow, and the cars being all fast to
it, they go like lightning almost."

He soon bethought himself of his little engine, and in a few minutes it
was steaming up, with the piston-rod pumping and the wheels whizzing,
and the Prince quite lost in wonder. It was a very novel and pleasant
sensation to know so much more than a royal Prince, and Allan enjoyed it
hugely. Looking about him for new marvels, he chanced on his
printing-press. The fire-light was dying out, and it was too dark for
type-setting, so he quickly struck a match and lighted the gas jet. When
he turned, his guests stood stupefied and open-mouthed with most unroyal
amazement.

The Prince gasped out, "Sister, did you see him set fire to a hole?
Surely he did it, and with a dry splinter."

The Princess turned quite pale. "Are the walls full of fire?" she asked,
anxiously, hugging baby Jamie closely.

This was, indeed, like magic to the royal pair, and, truth to tell, the
young magician was nearly as much at a loss to explain the phenomenon.

"It is gas, only gas," said Allan.

"And what in the name of all the saints is this gas?" returned the
Prince.

"Oh, something that is made from coal, and runs in tubes in the wall,
and burns in the air like oil," said Allan. "It is not loose; it can not
get out of the tubes. It is quite safe," he assured the frightened
Princess, "and the dry splinter has something on the tip--phosphorus, I
think--that fires when it is scraped." Thus re-assured, the royal pair
amused themselves for some time drawing matches, quite like common
children. After this Allan introduced his treadle press, and soon the
boys were deep in the mysteries of type-setting, inking, and taking
impressions. The Prince wondered greatly at a printing-press for a boy's
pastime, and still more to see it revolve so rapidly.

"I once went," he said, "to see them print our London weekly. They had
no treadle, for the press was worked by hand; but then they had famous
printers there, and plenty of them, you see, and could send out a
thousand papers in a day," and he looked to Allan for admiration.

"That was doing very well," was the calm response; "but with a treadle I
could work off about twice as many myself. In our country we use steam
to drive every sort of machine, and to-day our Yankee presses just buzz
round, and throw about eight thousand or ten thousand newspapers an
hour, all cut and folded."

"Don't! don't!" cried Prince Charlie; "that is a little faster than I
can think. I am sure there can't be people enough to read so many. I
should lose my breath in your fast country. What, pray, is the use of
driving things like lightning? Let us try those cards; and now go slow,
my man, and let me see how you do it."

Very soon they had printed, in old English type, "Charles Stuart, 1640,"
and in a neat script, "Allan Wallace, 1880." The Prince decided he would
rather have the treadle press than anything he had yet seen.

Meanwhile Jessie was doing her best to entertain the Princess Mary, who
had watched all of these wonders in her quiet way, holding Jamie by the
hand lest he should get into mischief. After the gas-lighting she was
more careful of him than ever, fearing some harm might befall the baby
brother in this new world of strange ways.

But shortly after this a sharp cry made them all start; Jamie had caught
his busy, plump little hand in a wheel; he could not release it, and was
screaming with fright. Princess Mary ran to his relief.

"What may this be?" she asked, when Jamie was soothed again. "Is it a
spinning-wheel?"

"Indeed no," said Jessie; "I should be very glad to see one; but this is
a sewing-machine."

"A what?" exclaimed her guest.

But Jessie, for answer, had opened the cover, and taking two strips of
cloth from a drawer, began to stitch a seam at a flying speed. She was
very proud of this accomplishment, having but just learned. "I can play
better on this than on the piano," she remarked. The swift wheel whirled
while she talked, and the long seam flew from under the needle, and in
an instant was done. The trio stood in amazement, little Jamie being
spell-bound by the flying wheel.

"Wonderful! wonderful!" cried Prince Charlie; "this is magic."

The Princess asked, eagerly, "May I try it?"

Jessie rose at once. The little lady daintily drew aside her satin robe,
and put her small shoes on the treadle. With the help of Jessie the
wheel was soon spinning briskly. The low hum and whir grew rapidly
louder. "What!" cried the Prince, "a tune?" and, wondering, Allan heard
the swift humming change to a lively measure. Louder and clearer it
rose, till the leal old Scotch ballad, "Wha'll be King but Charlie?"
rang out right gayly. The Prince seemed overjoyed, and directly began a
merry whistle to the loud swift music of the wheel.

"What a stunning whistle!" commented Allan, admiringly. Higher and
clearer it rose, nearer and shriller it came, until it sounded close
into his very ear, piercing its sharp way like a steel point. He
started, and sprang aside to escape it; then it suddenly stopped.

"Well, sir, is it possible you are awake at last?" said a cheery voice.
"You go down to your work like one of the Seven Sleepers. Here I've been
whistling 'Wha'll be King but Charlie?' right in your very ear, long
enough to wake the Sleeping Beauty herself." It was his father who
spoke. There he stood by Allan's bedside, laughing and tossing the
covers off from the bewildered boy. "Listen, sleepy-head; your mother
has been playing the same tune for ten minutes at least on the library
piano. She says the new picture brought back the old tune. Come, sir,
breakfast is waiting. Dress on the double-quick, you sluggard."




[Illustration]

A DOLLS' RECEPTION.


A few days before Christmas there was given in New York a dolls'
reception in aid of the Sea-side Sanitarium--the charity that takes poor
children of the great city to the sea-side for a few days each summer.

This reception was given in a hall on Thirty-third Street, and consisted
of a series of tableaux, in which all the characters were represented by
the most lovely and exquisitely dressed French dolls. These tableaux
were shown in dainty booths tastefully draped and decorated, so that the
effect was extremely pretty, and the reception furnished a novel and
delightful entertainment to the children who attended it in throngs
during the three days that it lasted.

At the "Birthday Party" the name of each doll-guest appeared on a dainty
little dinner card laid beside each plate.

Mother Goose and her children were dressed in the costumes with which
innumerable picture-books have made every child familiar.

The dolls had their Christmas tree as well as children; and, mounted on
a ladder, Santa Claus (a doll's Santa Claus, you know) made believe
distribute beautiful Christmas gifts.




[Begun in No. 58 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, December 7.]

TOBY TYLER;

OR, TEN WEEKS WITH A CIRCUS