



Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE]

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VOL. III.--NO. 132. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, May 9, 1882. Copyright, 1882, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per
Year, in Advance.

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[Illustration]

MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER.[1]

[1] Begun in No. 127, HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

BY JAMES OTIS,

AUTHOR OF "TOBY TYLER," "TIM AND TIP," ETC.

CHAPTER VI.

OLD BEN.


Toby watched anxiously as each wagon came up, but he failed to recognize
any of the drivers. For the first time it occurred to him that perhaps
those whom he knew were no longer with this particular company, and his
delight gave way to sadness.

Fully twenty wagons had come, and he had just begun to think his fears
had good foundation, when in the distance he saw the well-remembered
monkey wagon, with the burly form of old Ben on the box.

Toby could not wait for that particular team to come up, even though it
was driven at a reasonably rapid speed; but he started toward it as fast
as he could run. After him, something like the tail of a comet, followed
all his friends, who, having come so far, were determined not to lose
sight of him for a single instant, if it could be prevented by any
exertion on their part. Old Ben was driving in a sleepy sort of way, and
paid no attention to the little fellow who was running toward him, until
Toby shouted. Then the horses were stopped with a jerk that nearly threw
them back on their haunches.

"Well, Toby my son, I declare I am glad to see you;" and old Ben reached
down for the double purpose of shaking hands and helping the boy up to
the seat beside him. "Well, well, well, it's been some time since you've
been on this 'ere box, ain't it? I'd kinder forgotten what town it was
we took you from; I knew it was somewhere hereabouts, though, an' I've
kept my eye peeled for you ever since we've been in this part of the
country. So you found your uncle Dan'l all right, did you?"

"Yes, Ben, an' he was awful good to me when I got home; but Mr. Stubbs
got shot."

"No? you don't tell me! How did that happen?"

Then Toby told the story of his pet's death, and although it had
occurred a year before, he could not keep the tears from his eyes as he
spoke of it.

"You mustn't feel bad 'bout it, Toby," said Ben, consolingly, "for, you
see, monkeys has got to die jest like folks, an' your Stubbs was sich a
old feller that I reckon he'd have died anyhow before long. But I've got
one in the wagon here that looks a good deal like yours, an' I'll show
him to you."

As Ben spoke, he drew his wagon, now completely surrounded by boys, up
by the side of the road near the others, and opened the panel in the top
so that Toby could have a view of his passengers.

Curled up in the corner nearest the roof, where Mr. Stubbs had been in
the habit of sitting, Toby saw, as Ben had said, a monkey that looked
remarkably like Mr. Stubbs, save that he was younger and not so sedate.

Toby uttered an exclamation of surprise and joy as he pushed his hand
through the bars of the cage, and the monkey shook hands with him as Mr.
Stubbs used to do when greeted in the morning.

"Why, I never knew before that Mr. Stubbs had any relations!" said Toby,
looking around with joy imprinted on every feature. "Do you know where
the rest of the family is, Ben?"

There was no reply from the driver for some time; but instead, Toby
heard certain familiar sounds as if the old man were choking, while his
face took on the purplish tinge which had so alarmed the boy when he saw
it for the first time.

"No, I don't know where his family is," said Ben, after he had recovered
from his spasm of silent laughter, "an' I reckon he don't know nor care.
Say, Toby, you don't really think this one is any relation to your
monkey, do you?"

"Why, it must be his brother," said Toby, earnestly, "'cause they look
so much alike; but perhaps Mr. Stubbs was only his cousin."

Old Ben relapsed into another spasm, and Toby talked to the monkey, who
chattered back at him, until the boys on the ground were in a perfect
ferment of anxiety to know what was going on.

It was some time before Toby could be persuaded to pay attention to
anything else, so engrossed was he with Mr. Stubbs's brother, as he
persisted in calling the monkey, and the only way Ben could engage him
in conversation was by saying:

"You don't seem to be very much afraid of Job Lord now."

"You won't let him take me away if he should try, will you?" Toby asked,
quickly, alarmed at the very mention of his former employer's name, even
though he had thought he would not be afraid of him, protected as he now
was by Uncle Daniel.

"No, Toby, I wouldn't let him if he was to try it on, for you are just
where every boy ought to be, an' that's at home; but Job's where he
can't whip any more boys for some time to come."

"Where's that?"

"He's in jail. About a month after you left he licked his new boy so bad
that they arrested him, an' he got two years for it, 'cause it pretty
nigh made a <DW36> out of the youngster."

Toby was about to make some reply; but Ben continued unfolding his
budget of news.

"Castle staid with us till the season was over, an' then he went out
West. I don't know whether he got his hair cut trying to show the Injuns
how to ride, or not; but he never come back, an' nobody I ever saw has
heard anything about him."

"Are Mr. and Mrs. Treat with the show?"

"Yes, they're still here; he's a leetle thinner, I believe, an' she's
twenty pound heavier. She says she weighs fifty pounds more'n she did;
but I don't believe that, even if she did strike for five dollars more a
week this season on the strength of it, an' get it. They keep right on
cookin' up dinners, an' invitin' of folks in, an' the skeleton gets
choked about the same as when you was with the show. I don't know how it
is that a feller so thin as Treat is can eat so much."

"Uncle Dan'l says it's 'cause he works so hard to get full," said Toby,
quietly; "an' I shouldn't wonder if I grew as thin as the skeleton one
of these days, for I eat jest as awful much as I used to."

"Well, you look as if you got about all you needed, at any rate," said
Ben, as he mentally compared the plump boy at his side with the thin,
frightened-looking one who had run away from the circus with his monkey
on his shoulder and his bundle under his arm.

"Is Ella here?" asked Toby, after a pause, during which it seemed as if
he were thinking of much the same thing that Ben was.

"Yes, an' she 'keeps talkin' about what big cards you an' her would have
been if you had only staid with the show. But I'm glad you had pluck
enough to run away, Toby, for a life like this ain't no fit one for
boys."

"And I was glad to get back to Uncle Dan'l," said Toby, with a great
deal of emphasis. "I wouldn't go away, without he wanted me to, if I
could go with a circus seven times as large as this. Do you suppose
young Stubbs would act bad if I was to take him for a walk?"

"Who?" asked Ben, looking down at the crowd of boys with no slight show
of perplexity.

"Mr. Stubbs's brother," and Toby motioned to the door of the cage. "I'd
like to take him up in my arms, cause it would seem so much like it used
to before his brother died."

Ben was seized with one of the very worst laughing spasms Toby had ever
seen, and there was every danger that he would roll off the seat before
he could control himself; but he did recover after a time, and as the
purple hue slowly receded from his face, he said:

"I'll tell you what we'll do, Toby. You come to the tent when the
afternoon performance is over, an' I'll fix it so's you shall see Mr.
Stubbs's brother as much as you want to."

Just then Toby remembered that Ben was to be his guest for a while that
day, and after explaining all Aunt Olive had done in the way of
preparing dainties, invited him to dinner.

"I'll come, Toby, because it's to see you an' them that has been good to
you," said Ben, slowly, and after quite a long pause: "but there ain't
anybody else I know of who could coax me out to dinner, for, you see,
rough fellows like me ain't fit to go around much, except among our own
kind. But say, Toby, your uncle Dan'l ain't right on his speech, is he?"

Toby looked so puzzled that Ben saw he had not been understood, and he
explained:

"I mean, he don't get up a dinner for the sake of havin' a chance to
make a speech, like the skeleton, does he, eh?"

"Oh no, Uncle Dan'l don't do that. I know you'll like him when you see
him."

"And I believe I shall, Toby," said Ben, speaking very seriously. "I'd
be sure to, because he's such a good uncle to you."

Just then the conversation was interrupted by the orders to prepare for
the parade; and as the manager drove up to see that everything was done
properly, he stopped to speak with and congratulate Toby on being at
home again, a condescension on his part that caused a lively feeling of
envy in the breasts of the other boys because they had not been so
honored.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




"WHAT DO THE <DW29>s THINK?"

BY MARY A. BARR.


  What do the <DW29>s think, mamma,
    When they first come in the spring?
  Do they remember the robins,
    And the songs they used to sing?
  When the butterflies come again,
    I wonder if they will say,
  "We are ever so glad to see you,
    And won't you sit down and stay?"

  Will the <DW29>s tell the butterflies
    How the snow lay white and deep,
  And how beneath it, safe and warm,
    They had such a pleasant sleep?
  Will the butterflies tell the <DW29>s
    How they hid in their cradle bed,
  And dreamed away the winter-time,
    When people thought they were dead?

  And will they talk of the weather,
    Just as grown-up people do?
  And wish the sun would always shine,
    And the skies be always blue?
  Speak of the lilies dressed in white,
    And the daffodils dressed in gold,
  And say that they think the tulips
    Are exceedingly gay and bold?

  I fancy the purple <DW29>s are proud;
    I fancy the yellow are gay.
  Oh! I wish I could know just what they think;
    I wish I could hear them say,
  "Here comes our dear little Lucy,
    The kind little girl in pink,
  Who used to visit us every day--
    _And that's what we <DW29>s think_."




HOW JELLY-FISH LIVE AND MOVE.

BY SARAH COOPER.


When jelly-fish are seen lying in shapeless masses upon the beach, where
they have been washed by the tide, their appearance is not attractive.
If, however, we can watch them from the side of a boat, or from a long
pier, as they dart through the water with their tentacles trailing after
them, we shall soon learn to admire their graceful movements and their
elegant colors. There is something very interesting too in these little
inhabitants of the great deep. They are such soft and helpless little
things, and yet they live and have their own good times if only the
boisterous waves do not catch them and fling them too harshly against
the rough shore.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.--SECTION OF JELLY-FISH SHOWING TUBES AND MOUTH.]

Jelly-fish consist of a single bell-shaped mass of jelly, from the inner
surface of which hangs the body of the animal, with the mouth in the
centre. The mouth opens directly into the stomach, from which several
hollow tubes (usually four) extend to a circular tube around the edge of
the bell. In the jelly-fish, Fig. 1, _a_, the side next to us has been
removed that we may see the tubes and the mouth hanging in the centre;
_b_ shows us the same viewed from below.

The eggs of jelly-fish are formed in large quantities in the tubes
leading from the centre. In Fig. 1 you will see the enlarged cavities
containing eggs. At certain seasons of the year great clusters of
bright- eggs may be seen through the transparent flesh. A few
jelly-fish are thought to produce young ones resembling themselves,
without passing through the strange forms we noticed in studying
hydroids.

Hydroids, about which I told you in YOUNG PEOPLE March 14, No. 124, you
will remember, are abundant in all oceans. So are jelly-fish, and they
are often found floating in large companies. Jelly-fish are propelled by
alternately taking in and throwing out water under the bell. This gives
them a jerking movement, which looks as if it were caused by breathing.
They come to the surface chiefly when the water is quiet, and, as they
like the warm sun, you will not see many of them at an early hour in the
day. They are easily alarmed. If they meet with an obstacle in their
course, or if they are touched by an enemy, the bell contracts, the
tentacles are instantly drawn up, and the creature sinks in the water.

Upon the outer edge of the bell there are bright- specks and
solid spots, which are thought to be the beginnings of eyes and ears.
Although they never grow to be perfect eyes and ears in the jelly-fish,
they promise that Nature has in store for her children the precious
gifts of sight and hearing. Such imperfect organs are called by the wise
men rudimentary organs. This is the lowest animal in which anything
corresponding to our nerves is found.

Delicate fringes and tentacles hang from the lower edge of the bell,
adding greatly to its beauty. The tentacles are often many feet long,
yet the animal has the power of drawing them up so that they are not
visible. This curious power of contracting and expanding the tentacles
belongs to many humble sea creatures, and you will be greatly interested
in watching their movements. Sometimes, while we are still wondering at
their disappearance, they lengthen again as if by magic.

The tentacles of jelly-fish are covered with a great many lasso cells.
These lasso cells are too small to be seen without a microscope; still,
they are powerful weapons in their way, and are quite sufficient to
enable the jelly-fish to catch its food. Many of you know how the
skillful hunter uses a lasso for catching wild cattle. The jelly-fish
uses its lasso in quite a different manner, but it may be equally
unfailing.

When examined, each lasso cell, or little sac, is found to contain a
long slender thread, coiled within it, somewhat like a lasso, and
floating in a fluid. The cell is filled so full of the fluid that it
bursts with the slightest touch, and as the fluid squirts out, it
carries with it the slender lasso armed with sharp stings. In this way
lassoes are darted out to capture many little crabs or fish that brush
too near in passing.

[Illustration: FIG. 2.--LASSO CELLS FROM A FRESH-WATER HYDROID
(MAGNIFIED).]

The sting of the lasso seems to paralyze the unfortunate creatures, and
they make no effort to escape as the tentacles coil round them and carry
them to the mouth of the greedy jelly-fish. In Fig. 2 you will see a
group of lasso cells highly magnified. The cell at _a_ has not yet
burst, and through its thin walls we see the barbed dart at the end of
the lasso. At _b_ the lasso has been thrown out only a short distance,
while at _c_ the long slender lasso still carries the dart at the end,
and the curious little bladder is much larger than it was inside the
cell. The lasso cells of this specimen are exceedingly delicate and
simple, but in some animals the lasso may be seen coiled within the
cell; and when thrust out it bristles with sharp stings. Is it not a
dainty weapon to be used in the continual warfare carried on by these
innocent-looking creatures? Small as the lasso cells are, they serve to
protect the soft-bodied animals from their numerous enemies.

Jelly-fish would hot hesitate in the least to use these tiny weapons
upon us if we should touch their soft, pretty tentacles with too much
familiarity. The irritation produced in the flesh by the numerous sharp
points on the lassoes is similar to the stinging of nettles. For this
reason jelly-fish are often called sea-nettles. The correct name,
however, which you will find in scientific books, is "Medusæ."

[Illustration: FIG. 3.--JELLY-FISH, SHOWING TENTACLES.]

Jelly-fish vary greatly in size. Some are mere dots, so extremely small
that we should not notice them in the water, while one species is said