



Produced by Annie McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S

YOUNG PEOPLE

AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]


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VOL. I.--NO. 3. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, November 18, 1879. Copyright, 1879, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.

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[Illustration: THE TOURNAMENT.--DRAWN BY JAMES E. KELLY.]

THE TOURNAMENT.


Great rivalry arose once between James and Henry, two school-mates and
warm friends, and all on account of a pretty girl who went to the same
school. Each one wanted to walk with her, and carry her books and lunch
basket; and as Mary was a bit of a coquette, and showed no preference
for either of her admirers, each tried to be the first to meet her in
the shady winding lane that led from her house to the school. At last
they determined to decide the matter in the old knightly manner, by a
tournament. Two stout boys consented to act as chargers, and the day for
the meeting was appointed.

It was Saturday afternoon, a half-holiday, when the rivals met in the
back yard of Henry's house, armed with old brooms for lances, and with
shields made out of barrel heads. The chargers backed up against the
fence, the champions mounted and faced each other from opposite sides of
the yard. The herald with an old tin horn gave the signal for the onset.
There was a wild rush across the yard, and a terrific shock as the
champions met. James's lance struck Henry right under the chin, and
overthrew him in spite of his gallant efforts to keep his seat.

The herald at once proclaimed victory for James; and Henry, before he
was allowed to rise from the ground, was compelled to renounce all
intention of walking to school with Mary in the future.




[Begun in No. 1 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, Nov. 4.]

THE BRAVE SWISS BOY.

_II.--A PERILOUS ADVENTURE.--(Continued.)_

[Illustration: "WALTER AIMED TWO OR THREE BLOWS AT THE CREATURE'S
BREAST."]


In this dreadful crisis, Walter pressed as hard as he could against the
rocky crag, having but one hand at liberty to defend himself against the
furious attack of the bird. It was quite impossible for him to get at
his axe, and the force with which he was assaulted caused him nearly to
let go his hold. He tried to seize the vulture's throat and strangle it;
but the bird was too active, and made all such attempts perfectly
useless. He could scarcely hope to continue such a dangerous struggle
much longer. He was becoming faint from terror, and his left hand was
fast growing benumbed with grasping the rock. He had almost resigned
himself to his fate, and expected the next moment to be dashed to pieces
on the field of ice beneath. Suddenly, however, he recollected his
pocket-knife, and a new ray of hope dawned. Giving up the attempt to
clutch at the furious bird, he drew the knife out of his pocket, and
opened it with his teeth, and aiming two or three blows at the
creature's breast, he found at last that he had been successful in
reaching some mortal part. The fluttering of the wings ceased, and the
dying bird stained the virgin snow with its blood on the ice-field
below. Walter was saved; there was no other enemy now to fear; his life
was no longer in danger; but his energies were taxed to the utmost, and
it was well for him that the terrible contest had lasted no longer.

Pale, trembling in every limb, and spattered with the vulture's blood as
well as that which trickled from the many wounds he had received, the
valiant young cragsman sank helplessly to the ground, where he lay for
some minutes, paralyzed with the terrible exertion he had gone through.
At length, however, he so far recovered himself as to be able to
continue his fatiguing and dangerous journey, and soon succeeded in
reaching the spot where he had left his jacket, shoes, and alpenstock.
Having gained a place of safety, he poured forth his thanks to God for
delivering him from such great danger, and began to bind up his wounds,
which for the first time were now paining him. When this was
accomplished in a rough and ready sort of way, he had a peep at the
trophies in his bag, whose capture had been attended with such
adventurous danger, and with the aid of his alpenstock succeeded in
getting the dead body of the old bird, which he found had been struck
right to the heart. But his knife he could not recover, so concluded
that he must have dropped it after the deadly encounter.

"That doesn't matter much," said he to himself, as he looked at