E. A. T. We should like to use your rebus, but some of the symbols are too far-fetched in their ingenuity. Thank you. Shall we hear from you again? Charles T. of St. Louis writes:- "Here is a sentence which is grammatically correct, and makes sense when read both ways, but is not quite so long as your example, - 'Red root put up to or Edith. We had engraved your rebus when your der."" note came. S. Thanks, hearty thanks, for your French puzzles. Willy Wisp thinks that we misrepresented him in our note upon his communications in a former number. Perhaps we did, but certainly without intention. The point he wished to establish was, that he had made a rebus which required no letters to complete it, and which had no symbols that were used metaphorically, as we might say. We admit this; and we only wished to point out to him that his excellent efforts had not succeeded in doing away with symbols that were rather farfetched, or used in different ways. The faults of the rebuses which we print are as plain to us as they can be to anybody else, and we only allow them to pass because the puzzles in which they occur are the best we have, and we cannot alter them greatly without destroying the authors' ideas. We do not consider the use of key for k, by way of example, as at all proper; but that symbol crept in, as did hay for ha in "have," by some oversight, and would not bear our criticism any more than that of our correspondents. One word more, friend Willy, and we have done. We beg to be excused for not having stated your position fully, but don't think that any of the rebuses are our own; they all have come from our contributors; and when there has been no signature, the reason has been that none was supplied, or that the engraver did not return the sketch in time to have the name printed. "Coosie Coo." We want the address of the author of this story, which we accept. From Fall River comes a pleasant note, with an enclosure, both of which we are delighted to print. "Dear Editors, "My young folks think 'Strange Stairways' is (highest praise !) good enough for your 'Young Folks.' Do you? If you don't, here is an envelope for it to come back in. Sincerely yours, "MARY B. C. SLADE." "STRANGE STAIRWAYS. Was made of unbaked bread. That shone from overhead. 'T was unbaked bread again! I hurried down another flight Just like the ones before ! Yet folks of note, both black and white, H. A. D. has written us a letter from which we take a sentence that makes us both sorry and glad. She says, after speaking of some things she has read in our magazine :-"Now about myself. I am twelve years old, and I am a cripple, -have n't walked for four years; and 'Our Young Folks' is Post-office box 1792, New York much pleasure to me in my lonely hours." Little 7. P. V. Read "A Business Letter" in our issue of June, 1865. H. L. H. Not perfect enough. friend, thousands of warm young hearts, reading this simple sentence, will be filled with sympathy for you, while we are very happy to think that our labors have helped to lighten your lot. HE steamer Augusta Dinsmore came to anchor late in the evening of the 15th of February, 1863, off the entrance to Port Royal. The night was cloudy and dark; the wind northeast. There had been a gentle breeze through the day, but when the sun went down the wind came up. Great waves were rolling past us, tumbling headlong upon the sand-bars. Loud the wind and ceaseless the roar of the breakers. Through the night I heard the voices of the sea, - solemn and fearful. Yet it was glorious to stand upon the deck, holding on to the ropes, and look out upon the ocean white with foam, - the steamer rolling, pitching, and tossing, as if tugging to break the great iron chain which held her. The storm-clouds were flying past, so low down that they almost touched the masts. "If it blows much harder we shall have to put out to sea," said the Captain, who walked the deck, looking sometimes out to sea, then anxiously towards the shore, to see if the pilot-boat was coming. But the pilot had run in to the harbor, to find safe anchorage. The gulls screamed around us; the salt spray swept over the deck; and the breakers kept pounding the bows of the ship through the long, weary, dreary night. The morning dawned. How wild the clouds, which flew past us like horses on a race! The sea was Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by TICK NOR AND FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. foaming furiously; but the steamer was riding gloriously over the mighty swells. "We must either go out or in," said the Captain, once more looking anxiously around, to see if the pilot was coming. The steamer was pitching, tossing, rolling, and tugging harder than ever at her anchor, to get away and drift broadside upon the beach. We could see under the fog the black buoys which marked the channel dancing on the waves. "I'll go in," said the Captain, "although I don't know the channel." "Up anchor there! Quick, lively, boys! Starboard your helm!" The sailors sprang to the capstan. The anchor was lifted. The engine began to work. The steamer came broadside to the sea. A great wave rolled in upon the deck, throwing the spray high upon the mast. The vessel staggered, reeled, and trembled in every timber, but rose upon the wave, came round before the wind, and turned her bow towards the channel. So we moved on, through the wide entrance, past the shoal,—all froth and foam, reaching the calmer water and the end of our voyage, glad to find a shelter before the storm burst upon us in all its fury. We were in the harbor of Port Royal. There have been many stirring events along its now peaceful shores. I remembered that three hundred years had passed since the first European vessel came to anchor in the bay. Then, tall pines, wide-spreading oaks, and green-tufted palmettos covered the low lands along the shores with perpetual green. Then, as now, long trails of moss hung drooping from the trees. Innumerable flowers perfumed the air. Sea-birds swam in the calm waters, and built their nests and reared their young along the reedy marshes. A few Indians dwelt along the inland rivers; but the solitude of the sea-coast was undisturbed by the footsteps of men, except when the Indians came down in their canoes, paddling along the creeks and inlets, to hunt deer upon the islands or gather oysters from the marshes. I passed many pleasant weeks around Port Royal, sometimes riding horseback over the island, visiting the plantations from which the planters had fled; sitting down in the camps of the soldiers, listening to their stories; sometimes sailing across the bay in a boat, and visiting interesting places. About ten miles up the Beaufort River we found an old fort; -— one of the oldest in America, -built long before Jamestown was settled, or before the Pilgrims thought of leaving their homes in England. It stands on the bank of the Beaufort river, in a lovely spot. It is a low wall, enclosing a piece of ground not larger than a small garden. The great oaks which overshadow it must have been little shrubs when the wall was laid. Perhaps the acorns from which they grew were not grown at that time. There is a gravelled walk leading past the fort, up a gentle slope, to a house. The beautiful magnoliatrees which stand on either side of the walk make a delightful shade through the long sultry summer days. Although it was midwinter, roses were in bloom. The orange-trees were loaded with ripening fruit. Birds were merrily singing in the trees. Sitting on the wall, inhaling the sweet perfume of the flowers, with the balmy south wind fanning my cheek, I thought of those who stood there long time ago. And now let us in imagination sail over the sea to France, and take a look at what was going on there three hundred years ago, for that is the way to find out how the fort came to be built. All Europe was in turmoil. Mary-the "Bloody Mary," the name by which she is best known-was Queen of England. She was burning men, women, and children alive, in a place called Smithfield, just out of London; not because they were robbers, or murderers, or had done anything worthy of death, but because they did not choose to acknowledge all the doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, and obey all the commands of the Pope of Rome and the priests of that Church. Charles V., King of Spain and Emperor of Germany, had been hunting down those who protested against the Pope's authority, and who thus were called Protestants. Henry II., King of France, was equally bloodthirsty. He rode through the kingdom with a great company of noblemen and officers and court favorites, men and women. There were five or six thousand, dressed in crimson, scarlet, and purple, with nodding plumes in their caps. It was a magnificent sight, and the country people stood amazed when they saw the gay cavaliers on their prancing steeds. As Henry was a zealous Catholic, the Holy Inquisition of the Roman Catholic Church planned an entertaining spectacle when he entered Paris. Outside the city gates there was a row of gibbets, from which Protestants hung dangling by the neck, or were roasting alive over slow fires. All of this hanging, burning, and roasting, in England, France, and Spain, gave great delight to the wicked old Pope, Paul IV., in Rome. He was seventy years old, tall and thin, with fiery eyes, bloodthirsty and bigoted, who said to those around him, "I am chosen of God to kill heretics and purify the Holy Church.” He used to sit several hours alone at his table, drinking thick black wine, and talking to his cardinals of what he intended to do. But one day in August, 1559, the wicked old tyrant died, which gave great joy to Protestants everywhere. The bloody Mary of England died also, and her sister Elizabeth became queen. Henry of France had a tilt at a tournament with a stout Scotch knight, and received his death-wound, and his son Francis, sixteen years old, became king; but he also died in 1559. Then there came a boy-king to the throne of France, Henry's second son, Charles IX. He was only eleven years old when he became king, which seems very foolish to us, who live in this age and under a free republican government. It was foolish. Boys are not fit to be kings. The boy was called the king, but his mother told him what to do. Her name was Catharine de' Medici. She was crafty and cruel, and one of the most wicked women that ever lived. The Protestants in France were called Huguenots, a word which means a sudden gathering of people. Among the Huguenots was one noble soldier, Admiral Coligny, who had fought gloriously for the kingdom. He was a pure-minded, noble man. He wished for peace and quietness, and influenced the king to call the great council of the kingdom together to consult upon the matter. They assembled at the king's palace of Fontainebleau. "We claim the right to worship God publicly, in our own way, and we ask that we may have churches of our own," said Admiral Coligny in behalf of the Huguenots. "If you allow them to have churches and set up their own worship," said Cardinal Lorraine, "you will be responsible for their heresy and destroy your own soul." The king heard all that they had to say,- - or his mother heard it for him ; and he decided that the Roman Catholic cardinals, bishops, and priests should be judges of what was heresy, and that all heretics should be sent to prison or banished from the empire. This was better than to be hung, or roasted over a slow fire; but it seemed very hard to the Huguenots. The good Admiral Coligny then obtained permission from the king for Huguenots to settle in America. Two ships were sent to Brazil, but the attempt to found a colony there was a failure. But another expedition, composed of two ships, commanded by John Ribault, was sent out to make a settlement in Florida. Ribault had a safe passage, reached the coast, sailed along the shores, and one bright May morning entered a river which he named "the River of May"; it is the St. John's River in Florida. Then, sailing north, he came to an inlet which was so wide and spacious that he called it Port Royal. He sailed up the harbor, enchanted with the prospect around him. He cast anchor, and sent out parties in his small boats to explore the shores. They were charmed by the music of the strange birds, which sang in the woods through the long summer days. Deer were feeding in the meadows. The |