SCARAMOUTCH.

MOTHER AND CHILD.

BOYS AND GIRLS. Peep-show, peep!

The peep-show has come to town! The Lazybones are fast asleep,

Shall we call them down?

. I.

SCARAMOUTCH "AT HOME."

A LONG time ago, a very long time ago, there lived in a tiny cottage by the sea-shore a

PEEP-SHOWMAN. Yes, almost any savage-man, woman, or child-would know what the picture was about. And yet we can tell at once, by their dress and their faces, to what country this mother and child belong. They are Italians. This is a picture of a peasant woman, with her daughter of about nine years old lolling across her knee, with her face up towards the sky. The sun is bright and warm; the air is clear and sweet: they are very fond of each other, and so they laugh. Shall we make haste to drop the curtain over this peep-hole? No, we will have a nice long look, for we shall have to travel far before we shall see a prettier thing than a mother and child so happy.

BOYS AND GIRLS. Peep-show, peep:

The peep-show has come to town!
A show to see, and a show to keep,
Upstairs and down!
Your hair is flaxen,

My hair is brown,

But the Show is true for me and for you. The PEEP-SHOW has come to town!

You want to know how long ago? Before people wore those funny, ugly, spoon-shaped bonnets? Oh, yes! long before that. Before your grandmother wore a coal-scuttle bonnet. Before your great-great-grandfather wore a pigtail; which was not a real pig's tail, but his own hair, tied up to look like one. A funny idea that was. Yes, it was before all this; and before the days when your great-great-great-grandmother wore a little hat on the top of a frizz of curls (very much as the girls do now-a-days), and carried

crook in her hand, like Little Bo-Peep. Before your very great-great-great-great-grandfather and grandmother wore stiff ruffs round their necks, like Queen Elizabeth, and as some of the clergymen in Germany do now. Oh! how funny they look, those German pastors, coming out of a hole in the back of the pulpit, with a big ruff round their necks, and a black gown, like what Dr. Martin Luther wears in his pictures!

Who was Dr. Martin Luther? Never mind; we cannot stop now to say more about him than that he was a German, and therefore a very clever

man.

Are all Germans clever? Of course they are. Do not they use great long words, which only clever people can use or understand? But we will not talk about them now. We will leave the Germans and their long words, and think about how long ago our little tiny girl lived in her little tiny cottage.

Well, it was before spoon and coal-scuttle bonnets, and Bo-Peep crooks, and pigtails, and ruffs; before Henry VIII. had his six wives; before naughty Richard III. smothered his nephews in the Tower of London; before William the Conqueror landed at Hastings. In fact, I am not quite sure when it was. Perhaps before those ugly beasts with the long names at the Crystal Palace lived. I cannot say for certain when it was. If I do fix any particular time, perhaps some clever professor of history, or geography, or philosophy, or something, will come to say, "Oh, no! it could not have been then, because in those days" and so on; and that would not do.

Do you ask if it was before I was a real Little Auntie? My dear little Sally, do you think I was born before those great, ugly, long-named beasts in the Crystal Palace Garden? What

would Professor Owen say if he heard you? Oh! never mind who Professor Owen is; you will know some day. Well, we will say it was a very, very, very long time ago, when that little girl lived in that little cottage by the sea-shore.

But before I go on with my story I will answer your question as to why I was called Little Auntie. You do not think I am very little. No, I am not. But you see, when Jimmy was a tiny boy, I was a little girl, and so he called me Little Auntie, to distinguish me from his other aunts; and then, when I grew big, and I thought it was time I was called by my real name, a naughty duke brought a game into fashion which was called by my name. The game was throwing sticks at an ugly black doll. Now, how could I be called by the same name as that ugly doll? Tiny and Lally and Arwy and Dolly would all think I was the same person as that ugly black doll, which had the same name, or at least they would think that the doll was a picture of their Little Auntie. There could not be two Aunt Sallys, so the black doll must be a portrait of the real Auntie. Now this would never do. A blackfaced Auntie! Ugh! Horrible!

Well, then I thought of Aunt Sarah; but that sounded so proper and stiff. How could an Aunt Sarah play games, or run races, or laugh, or tell foolish stories like this one? No, Aunt Sarah would not do at all. So, after much thought, I made up my mind to stick to the old name of Little Auntie; and so you all learn one after the other to call me by that name, and I love it better than any other you could give me; and although I am an old woman now, still I am, and always mean to be, Little Auntie.

Now to return to this little girl in her little house by the sea-shore.

Of course you want to know where the house

was.

I wonder if you know Devonshire at all? Lynton, with its beautiful valley of rocks; and then. downstairs, as it were, Lynmouth; and that beautiful valley of the Lyn. I wonder whether you have ever seen a stag darting through the trees, and over the stones and the rivers, and heard the huntsmen shouting as they rush after it? Then there is the pretty little bay at Ilfracombe, where people bathe, and the tunnels you go through to get to it, and that wonderful hill, round and round which people walk till you wonder they are not blown to pieces. And is it not jolly to take off our boots and stockings, and paddle in the pools, and catch baby crabs, and cockles, and periwinkles?—or, better still, to swim in the nice clear green water? You are afraid to swim? Oh, nonsense! why should you be afraid when the sea is full of young baby fishes, crabs, and lobsters, and

shrimps, and mussels, and herrings, and cods, and haddocks (which are round, like other fish, you know, when they are alive: not dry and yellow, as you know them upon the breakfasttable), to say nothing of the Water Babies Professor Kingsley tells us about. That is quite a true story, you know. Mr. Kingsley says there are Water Babies, and "Tom" turned into a Water Baby, and so of course it is quite true; and although you have never seen them, there they are in the sea; and if you would only open your eyes under the water, you might, perhaps, see them. But, as to swimming, don't be frightened any more. Only think! if the sea does not want to drown all those babies, why should it drown you? The sea is much too kind, and only drowns stupid children who go a long way from the shore, and get out of their depth, and won't learn to swim.

But to get back to Devonshire. As you know all these places on the north coast, perhaps you also know the pretty south coast, where the earth is bright red; Sidmouth, and Budleigh, Salterton, and Torquay, and Lynmouth and Dawlish, with its odd rocks sticking out into the sea. There is

a big rock and a little one, which people call the Parson and the Clerk, but I fancy there are not a few clerks who think themselves a vast deal bigger than their clergymen, and much cleverer too. I am sure you would think so too if you saw them strut along as if all the world belonged to them. Ah! that Devonshire coast is a grand How I love to see the rain-clouds rush along, pouring down such lots of water, and leaving gleams of sunlight here and there, as they do nowhere else. Then the woods: where else do you see such woods, or such wild flowers, or such big blackberries, or such jolly red apples?

one.

Well, it was on the coast of Devon, near Lynton, or Ilfracombe, or Sidmouth, or Torquay (but of course there were not such places in those days; the country then was all wild) that the little tiny cottage was, that the little tiny girl lived in. She was very small indeed, this little girl; only ten inches high. She had chubby little arms and legs, and a chubby little face; long, light, curly hair, and bright red cheeks, not unlike a Devonshire apple. She was very pretty, as all good people are; for although some good people are called ugly, which is very wrong, they must be pretty in some way or other, because goodness itself is beautiful. Naughty people look cross, so of course they look ugly too.

(To be continued.)

A LATIN WORD IN A MAN'S FACE.

IN N the middle ages-that is, the ages that come between ancient history and modern times -learned people used to write and think so much in Latin, that they got to fancy, among other nonsensical things, that GOD had written the word homo, which is Latin for man, in the human face. They put the h on one side, because it was only an aspirate or breathing, and not a letter at all. They then found the omo in this way :

••

eight is 56, nine times 56 is 504; sixes in 504 are 84, and so on for ever.

Now, six times four is twenty-four, and the product of any four numbers that follow each other in the same way may always be divided by 24. The numbers 1, 2, 3, 4 multiplied together yield one times twenty-four. Then take 5, 6, 7, 8. Six times five is 30, seven times thirty is 210, eight times two hundred and ten is 1,680, and twenty-fours in 1,680 are 70.

Now, five times twenty-four is 120, and it will be found that the product of any five numbers that follow each other in the same way can always be divided by 120. Take 6, 7, 8, 9, 10; seven times six is 42, eight times forty-two is 336, nine times three hundred and thirty-six is 3,024, ten times three thousand and twenty-four is 30,240, and in 30,240 there are two hundred and fiftytwo times 120. And so we might go on for ever with other groups of numbers.

"MY MOTHER."

W. SENIOR.

next said that the cheek-bones, making on each side a line from the eyebrow, should be taken into the figure, which then stood thus:

and there was their 'omo, all complete! This puzzle is referred to by the great poet Dante, in the twenty-third canto of his "Purgatorio."

GEORGE DAVIDSON.

A LITTLE LESSON IN NUMBERS. HE number which is made by multiplying THE two or more numbers together is called the product.

I

Beginning at One or Thirty, it is found that the product of any two numbers whatever that follow each other may be divided by 2. Thus: take 1 and 2; twice one is two, twos in two, one. Take 3 and 4; four times three is twelve, twos in twelve are six. Take 10 and 11; ten times eleven is 110, twos in 110 are 55, and so on for ever. Now, three times two is six; and the product of any three numbers that follow each other may always be divided by 6. Thus: take 1, 2, 3; twice one is two, and three times two is six; sixes in six, one. Take 7, 8, 9; seven times

wrote the little poem, "My Mother," which is well known to many children, though not so well known as it used to be. Mr. Augustus de Morgan, the great logician and mathematician, wrote to the "Athenæum" about it when Mrs. Gilbert was getting old. He said he thought it was a very beautiful poem, but he did not like the last verse;

"For God, who lives above the skies,
Would look with vengeance in His eyes,

If ever I should dare despise

My Mother."

The reason why even this change did not satisfy Mr. de Morgan cannot be explained in this magazine, but we may mention what Mr. Josiah Gilbert, the lady's son, tells us of what he believes was in his mother's mind when she wrote that verse about God's "vengeance." She had a great-grandfather who was badly treated by his son, and when she was a child she used to take the poor old man's head upon her young bosom, and feed him with soft biscuits, while the tears rolled down his cheeks. This she never forgot, and she used often to speak of it with great grief.

E. R. WHITE.