Nine Little Goslings

  UP, UP, UP, AND DOWN, DOWN, DOWN-Y.

  "NOW, Dinah, it's time to try the jelly."

  "Wait a minute, Miss May; it can't be stiff yet."

  "Oh, yes! Dinah, it is; I think it is. I'll only just breathe on it,Dinah; I'll not disturb it a bit."

  "Let me breathe on it too."

  "And me."

  Dinah chuckled silently to herself in a way she had. She opened thekitchen window, and in one second three little girls had climbed onthree chairs, and three curly heads had met over the saucer of currantjuice which stood on the sill.

  "I _think_ it's going to jelly," said May.

  Lulu touched it delicately with the point of her small forefinger.

  "There!" she cried triumphantly. "It _crinkled_; it did, Dinah! Thejelly's come."

  "Oh, how good!" added Bertha, applying her finger, not so gently, to thehot surface, and then putting it into her mouth to cool it! "It's thebestest jelly we ever made, Dinah."

  Dinah chuckled again at this "we." But, after all, why not? Had not thechildren watched her scald and squeeze the currants, and stir and skim?Had not May wielded the big wooden spoon for at least three minutes? Hadnot Lulu eaten a mouthful of skimmings on the sly? Were they not testingthe product now? The little ones had surely a right to say "we," andDinah accepted the partnership willingly. She lifted the preservingkettle on to the table; and the junior (not silent!) members of the firmmounted on their chairs, watched with intense interest as she dipped theglasses in hot water, and filled each in turn with the clear red liquid.

  "It's first-rate jell," she remarked. "Be hard in no time."

  "Put a tiny, tiny bit in my doll's tumbler," said Bertha, producing aminute vessel. "She likes jelly very much, my dolly does."

  "Oh, isn't it nice to cook!" exclaimed Lulu, jumping up and down in herchair! "Such fun! I wish Mamma'd always let us do it."

  "What shall we make next?" asked May.

  "Jumbles," responded the senior partner briefly.

  "I like to make jumbles," cried May. "I may cut out all thediamond-shaped ones, mayn't I, Di?"

  "And I, all the round ones?"

  "And I, the hearts?"

  Dinah nodded. The children got down from their chairs, and ran to thecloset. They came back each with a tin cookie-pattern in her hand. Dinahsifted flour and jumbled egg and sugar rapidly together, with thatprecise carelessness which experience teaches. In a few minutes thesmooth sheet of dough lay glistening on the board, and the childrenbegan cutting out the cakes; first a diamond, then a heart, then around, each in turn. As fast as the shapes were cut, Dinah laid them inbaking-tins, and carried them away to the oven. The work went busily on.It was great fun. But, alas! in the very midst of it, interruption came.The door opened, and a lady walked in,--a pretty lady in a beautifulsilk gown of many flounces. When she saw what the children were doing,she frowned, and did not seem pleased.

  "My dears," she said, "I was wondering where you were. It is quite timethat you should be dressed for the afternoon. Come upstairs at once."

  "O Mamma!--we're helping Dinah. Mayn't we stay and finish?"

  "Helping? Nonsense! Hindering, you mean. Dinah will be glad to get ridof you. Come at once."

  May got down from her chair. But Lulu and Bertha pouted.

  "We've hung all our dolls' things out on the line," they said. "It'swashing-day in the baby-house, Mamma. Mayn't we stay just a little whileto clap and fold up?"

  "Clap and fold," exclaimed Mrs. Frisbie. "Where do you pick up suchwords, I wonder. Of course you can't stay, you must come and be madedecent. Susan shall finish your dolls' wash."

  "Oh, no! please Mamma, it's so much nicer to do 'em ourselves," pleadedLulu. "Don't let Susan touch them. We love so to wash. Dinah says we'reworth our wages, we do it so well."

  "Dinah should not say such things," said Mrs. Frisbie, severely, leadingthe unwilling flock upstairs. "Now, Lulu, do look pleasant. I reallycannot have all this fuss made each time that I tell you to come and sitwith me and behave like little ladies. This passion for house-work isvulgar; I don't like it at all. With plenty of servants in the house,and your Pa's money, and all, there's no need that you should know anything about such common doings. Now, go upstairs and tell Justine to puton your French cambrics and your sashes, and when you're ready comestraight down. I want you."

  Mrs. Frisbie went into the drawing-room as she spoke, and shut the doorbehind her with a little bang. She was a good-natured woman in themain, but at that moment she was really put out. Why should _her_children have this outlandish taste for cooking and washing? _She_ likedto be beautifully dressed, and sit on a sofa doing nothing. Whyshouldn't they like to do the same? It was really too bad, she thought.The children were not a bit like her. They were "clear Frisbie straightthrough," and it was really a trial. She felt quite unhappy, and, as Isaid, gave the door a bang to relieve her feelings.

  While the children are putting on their French cambrics, I will tell youa Fairy story.

  Once upon a time, in a wonderful country where all the inhabitants areKings and Queens, a little Prince was born. His father's kingdom was notbig, being only a farm-house, two clover fields, and a potato patch, butnone the less was it a kingdom, because no one else had right to it orcould dispute it. The Prince was born on a Sunday, and the Fairy who hascharge of Sunday children came and stood by his cradle.

  "You shall be lucky always," she said, touching the baby's soft cheekwith the point of her finger. "I give you four gifts, Sunday Prince. Thefirst is a strong and handsome body,"--and the Fairy, as she spoke,stroked the small limbs with her wand. "The next is a sweet temper. Thethird is a brave heart--you'll need it, little Prince,--all people do inthis world. Lastly,"--and the Fairy touched the sleeping eyelidslightly,--"I give you a pair of clear, keen eyes, which shall tell youthe difference between hawks and hernshaws from the very beginning. Thisgift is worth something, as you'll soon find out. Now, good-by, my baby.Sleep well, and grow fast. Here's a pretty plaything for you,"--takingfrom her pocket a big, beautiful bubble, and tossing it in the air. "Runfast," she said, "blow hard, follow the bubble, catch it if you can;but, above all things, keep it flying. Its name is Fortune,--a prettyname. All the little boys like to run after my bubbles. As long as itkeeps up, up, all will go brightly; but if you fail to blow, or blowunwisely, and it goes down, down--well--you'll be lucky either way, mySunday Prince; 'tis I who say so." Thereupon the Fairy kissed thesleeping child and vanished.

  Only the clear eyes of the little Prince could see the rainbow bubblewhich hung in air above his head, and flew before, wherever he went. Hebegan to see it when still very young, and as he grew bigger he saw itmore clearly still. And he blew, blew, and the gay bubble went up, up,and all things prospered. Before long, the baby Prince was a man, andtook possession of his kingdom; for in this wonderful country plenty ofkingdoms are to be had, and Princes are not forced to wait until theirfathers die before taking possession of their crowns. So, being a grownPrince, he began to look about for a Princess to share his throne withhim. And he found a very nice little one; who, when he asked her, made acourtesy and said, "Yes, thank you," in the prettiest way possible. Thenthe Prince was pleased, and sent for a priest. The priest's name wasSlack. He belonged to the Methodist persuasion, Otsego Conference, buthe married the Prince and the Princess just as well as though he hadbeen an archbishop. They went to live in a small palace of their own,and after awhile some little princelings came to live with them, andthey were all very happy together. And the lucky Prince, beingfairy-blessed, kept on being lucky. The rainbow bubble flew before; heblew strongly, wisely; it soared high, high, and all things prospered.His kingdom increased, his treasure-bags were filled with gold. By andby the little palace grew too small for them, or they fancied it so, andanother was built, a real palace this time, with lawns, and fish-ponds,and graperies, and gardens. The only trouble was--

  But here come the children downstairs, so I must drop into plain prose,and tell you what already you have guessed, that the Pr
ince I mean istheir father, John Frisbie,--Prince John, if you like,--and thePrincess's name was Mary Jones before she was married, but now, ofcourse, it is Mary Frisbie. There were five of the princelings,--Jackand May and Arthur and Lulu and Bertha. The new palace was a beautifulhouse, with wide, lovely grounds. But since they came to live in it,Mrs. Frisbie had taken it into her head that so fine a house requiredmanners to match, and that the things the children liked best, and hadbeen allowed to do in the small house, were vulgar, and might not bepermitted now. This was a real trouble to the little ones, for, as theirmother said, they were "clear Frisbie all through;" and the thrift,energy, cleverness, and other qualities by which their father had madehis fortune, were strong in them. Perhaps the Fairy had visited theircradles also. Who knows?

  The girls came down crisp and fresh in their ruffled frocks, with curlssmoothed, sashes tied, and their company dolls in their hands.

  "Now sit down and be comfortable," said Mrs. Frisbie.

  Dear me, what a number of meanings there are to that word "comfortable"!Mrs. Frisbie thought it meant pretty clothes, pretty rooms, and nothingto do. To the boys it took the form of hard, hearty work of some sort.Papa understood it as a cool day in his office, business brisk, but nottoo brisk, and an occasional cigar. May, Lulu, and Bertha would havetranslated it thus: "our old ginghams and our own way;" while Dinah, ifasked, would have defined "comfort" as having the kitchen "clar'd up"after a successful bake, and being free to sit down, darn stockings, andread the "Illustrated Pirate's Manual," a newspaper she much affected onaccount of the blood-thirstiness of its pictures. None of these variousexplanations of the word mean the same thing, you see. And the drollestpart is that no one can ever be made "comfortable" in any way but hisown: that is impossible.

  The company dolls were very fine ladies indeed; they came from Paris,and had trunks full of splendid dresses. The children did not care muchfor them, and liked better certain decrepit babies of rag andcomposition, which were thought too shabby to be allowed in the parlor.

  "Where are the boys?" asked Mrs. Frisbie, when the small sisters hadsettled themselves.

  "Jack was going to have his sale this afternoon," replied Mary. "AndArthur is auctioneer."

  "His sale! What on earth is that?"

  "Why, Mamma--don't you know? Jack's chickens, of course. Croppy hadeleven and Top-knot nine. There's a 'corner' in chickens just now,Arthur says, because most of the other boys have lost theirs. Alfred'swere sick and died, and the rats ate all of Charley Ross's, and a hawkcarried off five of Howard's. Jack expects to make a lot of money,because Croppy is a Bramahpootra hen, you know, and her chicks are veryvaluable."

  "Corner! Lot of money! Oh, dear!" sighed poor Mrs. Frisbie, "what wordsthe boys do teach you. Where they learn them I can't imagine. Not fromme."

  "From Papa, I guess," explained Lulu innocently. "He used to have henswhen he was little, and sell 'em. It was splendid fun, he says.Grandmamma thinks that Jack is just Papa over again."

  "All of you are," said Mrs. Frisbie. "Not one of you is a bit like me.Can't you sit still, Bertha? What _are_ you doing there with yourhandkerchief?"

  "Only dusting the table leg, Mamma; it wasn't quite clean."

  "Dear, dear! and in your nice frock. Do let the furniture alone, child.Ring for Bridget, if any thing wants cleaning. You're a real MeddlesomeMatty, Bertha."

  "O Mamma!" cried Bertha, aggrieved. "Grandmamma taught me to dust whenwe lived in the other house, you know. Grandmamma said it was a goodthing for little girls to be useful. And I didn't meddle with any thingon the table; really I didn't, Mamma."

  "Never mind, dear," said Mrs. Frisbie. "It's no great matter, only Idon't like to have you do such things. Now sit still and play with yourdoll." She opened a book and began to read. The children crept nearer toeach other and talked in low whispers.

  "Let's play that Eugenie and Victoria are little girls come to make eachother a visit, and Isabella is their Mamma."

  "You can't! Little girls never have trains to their dresses ornecklaces."

  "Oh! I wish Nippy Scatch-Face and old Maria were down here," sighedLulu.

  "I'll tell you," put in May. "We'll play they are three stiff oldladies, who always wear best clothes, you know, and sit so in chairs;and that Nippy and Maria are coming to make them a visit. They needn'treally come, you know. Mrs. Eugenie, sit up straight. Now listen to thehateful old thing! She's talking to Victoria."

  "Sister, when are those children coming?"

  "I don't know, sister," squeaked back Lulu in the character of Victoria."I wish they wouldn't come at all. Children are the bane of myexistence."

  "You horrid doll, talking that way about _my_ baby," cried Bertha,giving Victoria a shove.

  "Don't, Beppie; you'll push her down," said May. Then changing her voiceagain, "Your manners is most awful, I'm sure," she squeaked, in theperson of the irate Victoria.

  All the children giggled, and Mrs. Frisbie looked up from her book.

  At this moment in ran the two boys, hot, dusty, and excited,--Arthurwith a handful of "fractional currency," and Jack waving a two-dollarbill.

  "See!" they cried. "Four dollars and sixty-five cents. Isn't thatsplendid? Mr. Ashurst bought all the Croppys, and gave twenty-five centsa piece for them."

  "Let us see, let us see!" cried the little girls, precipitatingthemselves on the money.

  "Look here, now, Mary Frisbie--no snatching!" protested Jack,--"Ihaven't told you the best yet. Mr. Ashurst says we're such good farmers,that he'll give us work whenever we like to take it. He says I couldearn three dollars a week _now_! Think of that."

  "Oh, how much!" cried Lulu, awe-struck. "What could you do with so much,Jacky?"

  "Now boys,--listen to me," said their mother. "Go upstairs right awayand get ready for tea. You look like real farmers' boys at this moment,I declare, so hot and dusty. I don't wonder Mr. Ashurst offered youwork,--though I think it was very impertinent of him to do so. I hopeyou said that your father's sons didn't need to earn money in any suchway."

  "Why, Mamma, of course I didn't. Arthur and me like to work, and we aregoing to somehow just as soon as we're big enough. It's lots better funthan going to school. Besides, Papa says we may. He told us all Americanboys ought to work, whether their fathers are rich or poor."

  "Papa likes to talk nonsense with you," said Mrs. Frisbie, biting herlips. "Go up now and dress."

  There was a howl from both boys.

  "O Mamma! not yet. It's too early for that horrid dressing, oh, a greatdeal too early, Mamma. We've got a lot to do in our chicken house.Mayn't we go out again for a little while, just for half an hour,Mamma?"

  "Well--for half an hour you may," said Mrs. Frisbie reluctantly,consulting her watch. Away clattered the boys,--the girls looking afterthem with envious eyes.

  Presently Lulu slipped out and was gone a few minutes. She came backsparkling, with her cheeks very rosy.

  "Mamma," she cried, "what _do_ you think? David says if you haven't anyobjections, we may each of us have a little garden down there behind theasparagus beds. He'll make them for us, Mamma, he says, and we can plantjust what we like in them. O Mamma! don't have any objections--please."

  "Will he really?" cried May. "I'll put peppergrass in mine,--andparsley. Dinah says she never has as much parsley as she wants."

  "Yes, and little green cucumbers," added Bertha,--"little teeny-weenyones, for pickles, you know. Dinah is always wishing she could get them,but David never sends in any but big ones. O Mamma! do say yes. It'll beso nice."

  "Cucumbers! peppergrass! Well, you are the strangest children! Why don'tyou have pinks and pansies and pretty things?"

  "Oh, we will, and make bouquets for you, Mamma; only we thought of theuseful things first."

  "Somehow you always do think of useful things first," murmured Mrs.Frisbie. "However, have the gardens if you like. I'm sure I don't care."

  The children's thanks were cut short by the click of a latch-key in thehall-door.

  "There's
Papa!" cried Bertha; and, like three arrows dismissed from thestring, the children were off to greet him. It was always a joy to havePapa come home.

  He was looking grave as he opened the door, but his face lit up at onceat the sight of his little girls. Papa's face without a smile upon itwould have seemed a strange sight indeed to that household. It did crossMay's mind that evening that the smiles were not so merry as usual, andthat Papa seemed tired; but no one else noticed it, either then or onthe days that followed.

  Bubbles are pretty things, but the keeping them in air grows wearisomeafter a while. About this time the rainbow bubble set afloat by the kindFairy for the sleeping Prince began to misbehave itself. Contrary windsseized it; it flew wildly, now here, now there; and, instead of sailingsteadily, it was first up, then down, then up again, but more down thanup. Prince John blew his hardest and did his best to keep it fromsinking; for he knew, as we all do, that once let a bubble touch theearth, and all is over,--its glittering wings collapse,--they fly nomore.

  So the weeks went on. Unconscious of trouble, the children dug andplanted in their little gardens. Each new leaf and shoot was a wonderand a delight to them. Bertha's plants flourished less than the others,because of a habit she had of digging them all up daily to see how theroots were coming on; but, except for that, all went well, and thebluest of skies stretched itself over the heads of the small gardeners.In the City, where Papa's office was, the sky was not blue at all. Highwinds were blowing, stormy black clouds shut out the sun. Bubbles weresinking and bursting on every side, and men's hearts were heavy andanxious. Prince John did his best. He watched his bubble anxiously, andfollowed it far. It was fairy-blessed, as I said, and its wings werestronger than bubble's wings usually are; but at last the day came whenit could soar no longer. The pretty shining sphere hovered, sank,touched a rock, and in a minute--hey! presto!--there was no bubblethere; it had utterly disappeared, and Prince Frisbie, with a very soberface, walked home to tell his wife that he had lost every thing they hadin the world. This was not a pleasant or an easy thing to do, as you canreadily imagine.

  The children never forgot this evening. They used to vaguely refer to itamong themselves as "That time, you know." Papa came in very quiet andpale, and shut himself up with Mamma. She--poor soul!--was muchdistressed, and sobbed and cried. They heard her as they came downstairsdressed for the evening, and it frightened them. Papa, coming out aftera while, found them huddled together in a dismayed little group in thecorner of the entry.

  "O Papa! is it any thing dreadful?" asked May. "Is Mamma sick?"

  "No, not sick, darling, but very much troubled about something. Comewith me and I will explain it to you." Then Papa led them into thedining-room; and, with Bertha on his knee and the others close to him,he told them that he had lost a great deal of money (almost all he had),and they would have to sell the place, and go and live in a little housesomewhere,--he didn't yet know exactly where.

  The children had looked downcast enough when Papa commenced, but at thispoint their faces brightened.

  "A really little house?" exclaimed May. "O Papa! do you know, I'm glad.Little houses are so pretty and cunning, I always wanted to live in one.Susie Brown's Papa does, and Susie can go into the kitchen whenever shelikes, and she toasts the bread for tea, and does all sorts of things.Do you suppose that I may toast the bread when we go to live in ourlittle house, Papa?"

  "I daresay Mamma will be glad of your help in a great many ways,"replied Papa.

  "Shall we be poor, very poor indeed?" demanded Bertha anxiously.

  "Pretty poor for the present, I am afraid," replied her Father.

  "Goody! goody!" cried May, hopping up and down on her toes. "I alwayswanted to be poor, it's so nice! We'll have the _best_ times, Papa; seeif we don't!"

  Papa actually laughed, May's happy, eager face amused him so much.

  "I know what we'll do," said Jack, who had been considering the matterin silence. "We'll raise lots of chickens, and give you all the money,Papa."

  "My boy, I am afraid you must give up your chickens. There will be noplace for them in the new home."

  "Must we?" Jack gave a little gulp, but went on manfully, "Well, nevermind, we'll find something else that we can do."

  "Mr. Ashurst says Jack is the 'handiest' boy he ever saw, Papa," put inArthur eagerly.

  "Well, handiness is a capital stock-in-trade. Now, dears, one thing,--beas good and gentle as possible with Mamma, and don't trouble her a bitmore than you can help."

  "We will, we will," promised the little flock. Mrs. Frisbie was quiteright in saying that the children took after their father. Their brave,bright natures were as unlike hers as possible.

  It is sad to see what short time it requires to pull down and destroy ahome which has taken years to build. The Frisbies' handsome, luxurioushouse seemed to change and empty all in a moment. Carriages were sold,servants dismissed. Furniture was packed and carried away. In a few daysnothing remained but a fine empty shell, with a staring advertisement of"For Sale" pasted on it. The familiar look was all gone, and everybodywas glad to get away from the place. It took some time to find the"little house," and some time longer to put it to rights. Papa attendedto all that, the children remaining meanwhile with Grandmamma. Mammahad taken to her bed with a nervous attack, and cried day and night.Everybody was sorry; they all waited on her, and did their best to raiseher spirits.

  At last the new home was ready. It was evening when the carriage setthem down at the gate, and they could only see that there were trees andshrubs in the tiny front yard, and a cheerful light streaming from thedoor, where Dinah stood to welcome them,--dear old Di, who had insistedon following their fortunes as maid of all work. As they drew nearer,they perceived that she stood in a small, carpeted entry, with a room oneither side. The room on the right was a sitting-room; the room on theleft, a kitchen. There were three bedrooms upstairs, and a small coop inthe attic for Dinah. That was all; for it was indeed a "really littlehouse," as Papa had said.

  "Oh, how pretty!" cried Lulu, as she caught sight of the freshly paperedparlor, with its cheerful carpet, and table laid for tea, and on theother hand of the glowing kitchen stove and steaming kettle. "Such anice parlor, and the dearest kitchen. Why, it's smaller than SusieBrown's house, which we used to wish we lived in. Don't you like it,Mamma? I think it's _sweet_."

  Mrs. Frisbie only sighed by way of reply. But the children's pleasurewas a comfort to Papa. He and Dinah had worked hard to make the littlehome look attractive. They had papered the walls themselves, put upshelves and hooks, arranged the furniture, and even set a few lateflowers in the beds, that the garden might not seem bare and neglected.

  The next day was a very busy one, for there were all the trunks tounpack, and the bureau drawers to fill, and places to be settled forthis thing and that. By night they were in pretty good order, and beganto feel at home, as people always do when their belongings arecomfortably arranged about them.

  Mrs. Frisbie was growing less doleful. Her husband, who was very tired,lay back in a big arm-chair. The evening was chilly, so Dinah hadlighted a small fire of chips, which flickered and made the room bright.The glow danced on Bertha's glossy curls as she sat at Mamma's knee, andon the rosy faces of the two boys. All looked cheerful and cosy; a smellof toast came across the entry from the kitchen.

  "Bertha, your hair is very nicely curled to-night," said Mrs. Frisbie."I don't know how Dinah found time to do it."

  "Dinah didn't do it, Mamma. May did it. She did Lulu's too, and Lulu didhers. We're always going to dress each other now."

  Just then May came in with a plate of hot toast in her hand. Lulufollowed with the teapot.

  "It's so nice having the kitchen close by," said May, "instead of wayoff as it was in the other house. This toast is as warm as--toast"--sheconcluded, not knowing exactly how to end her simile.

  "Your face looks as warm as toast, too," remarked her Father.

  "Yes, Papa, that's because I toasted to-night. Dinah was bringing thecloth
es from the lines, so she let me."

  "I stamped the butter, Papa," added Lulu. "Look, isn't it a prettylittle pat?"

  "And I sifted the sugar for the blackberries," put in Bertha from herplace at Mamma's knee.

  "You don't mind, do you Mamma?" observed Mary anxiously. "Di pinned abig apron over my frock. See, it hasn't got a spot on it."

  "I'm glad she did," said Mrs. Frisbie, surprised. "But it doesn't matterso much how you dress here, you know. It was in the other house I was soparticular."

  "But I like to please you, Mamma, and you always want us to look nice,you know. We mean to be very careful now, because if we don't we shallworry you all the time."

  Mrs. Frisbie put her arm round Mary and kissed her.

  "I declare," she said, half-laughing, half-crying. "This house _is_pleasant. It seems snugger somehow, as if we were closer together thanwe ever were before. I guess I shall like it after all."

  "Hurrah!" cried Prince John, rousing from his fatigue at thesecomfortable words. "That's right, Molly, dear! You don't know what goodit does me to hear you say so. If only you can look bright and thechicks keep well and happy, I shall go to work with a will, and theworld will come right yet." He smiled with a look of conscious power ashe spoke; his eyes were keen and eager.

  I think that just then, as the children gathered round the table, asMrs. Frisbie took up the teapot and began to pour the tea, and herhusband pushed back his chair,--that just then, at that very moment, theFairy entered the room. Nobody saw her, but there she was! She smiled onthe group; then she took from her pocket another bubble, more splendidthan the one she had brought before, and tossed it into the air abovePrince John's head. "There," she said, "catch that. You'll have it thistime, and it won't break and go to pieces as the first one did. Look atit sailing up, up, up,--this bubble has wings, but it sails toward andnot away from you. Catch it, as I say, and make it yours. But even whenit _is_ yours, when you hold it in your hand and are sure of it, you'llbe no luckier and no happier, my lucky Prince, than you are at thismoment, in this small house, with love about you, hope in your heart,and all these precious little people to work for, and to reward you whenwork is done."

  * * * * *

  THE STORY OF JULIETTE.

  A Child's Romance. By BEATRICE WASHINGTON. With 45 illustrations by J.F. Goodridge. Small 4to. Cloth. Price, $1.00.

  "SHE WAS CARRIED IN HER TRUE KNIGHT'S ARMS."]

  _Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the Publishers._

  ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.