the first number of our magazine was ready on new year’s day, and we read it that evening in the kitchen. all our staff had worked nobly and we were enormously proud of the result, although dan still continued to scoff at a paper that wasn’t printed. the story girl and i read it turnabout while the others, except felix, ate apples. it opened with a short
editorial
with this number our magazine makes its first bow to the public. all the editors have done their best and the various departments are full of valuable information and amusement. the tastefully designed cover is by a famous artist, mr. blair stanley, who sent it to us all the way from europe at the request of his daughter. mr. peter craig, our enterprising literary editor, contributes a touching love story. (peter, aside, in a gratified pig’s whisper: “i never was called ‘mr.’ before.”) miss felicity king’s essays on shakespeare is none the worse for being an old school composition, as it is new to most of our readers. miss cecily king contributes a thrilling article of adventure. the various departments are ably edited, and we feel that we have reason to be proud of our magazine. but we shall not rest on our oars. “excelsior” shall ever be our motto. we trust that each succeeding issue will be better than the one that went before. we are well aware of many defects, but it is easier to see them than to remedy them. any suggestion that would tend to the improvement of our magazine will be thankfully received, but we trust that no criticism will be made that will hurt anyone’s feelings. let us all work together in harmony, and strive to make our magazine an influence for good and a source of innocent pleasure, and let us always remember the words of the poet.
“the heights by great men reached and kept
were not attained by sudden flight,
but they, while their companions slept,
were toiling upwards in the night.”
(peter, impressively:—“i’ve read many a worse editorial in the enterprise.”)
essay on shakespeare
shakespeare’s full name was william shakespeare. he did not always spell it the same way. he lived in the reign of queen elizabeth and wrote a great many plays. his plays are written in dialogue form. some people think they were not written by shakespeare but by another man of the same name. i have read some of them because our school teacher says everybody ought to read them, but i did not care much for them. there are some things in them i cannot understand. i like the stories of valeria h. montague in the family guide ever so much better. they are more exciting and truer to life. romeo and juliet was one of the plays i read. it was very sad. juliet dies and i don’t like stories where people die. i like it better when they all get married especially to dukes and earls. shakespeare himself was married to anne hatheway. they are both dead now. they have been dead a good while. he was a very famous man.
felicity king.
(peter, modestly: “i don’t know much about shakespeare myself but i’ve got a book of his plays that belonged to my aunt jane, and i guess i’ll have to tackle him as soon as i finish with the bible.”)
the story of an elopement from church
this is a true story. it happened in markdale to an uncle of my mothers. he wanted to marry miss jemima parr. felicity says jemima is not a romantic name for a heroin of a story but i cant help it in this case because it is a true story and her name realy was jemima. my mothers uncle was named thomas taylor. he was poor at that time and so the father of miss jemima parr did not want him for a soninlaw and told him he was not to come near the house or he would set the dog on him. miss jemima parr was very pretty and my mothers uncle thomas was just crazy about her and she wanted him too. she cried almost every night after her father forbid him to come to the house except the nights she had to sleep or she would have died. and she was so frightened he might try to come for all and get tore up by the dog and it was a bull-dog too that would never let go. but mothers uncle thomas was too cute for that. he waited till one day there was preaching in the markdale church in the middle of the week because it was sacrament time and miss jemima parr and her family all went because her father was an elder. my mothers uncle thomas went too and set in the pew just behind miss jemima parrs family. when they all bowed their heads at prayer time miss jemima parr didnt but set bolt uprite and my mothers uncle thomas bent over and wispered in her ear. i dont know what he said so i cant right it but miss jemima parr blushed that is turned red and nodded her head. perhaps some people may think that my mothers uncle thomas shouldent of wispered at prayer time in church but you must remember that miss jemima parrs father had thretened to set the dog on him and that was hard lines when he was a respektable young man though not rich. well when they were singing the last sam my mothers uncle thomas got up and went out very quitely and as soon as church was out miss jemima parr walked out too real quick. her family never suspekted anything and they hung round talking to folks and shaking hands while miss jemima parr and my mothers uncle thomas were eloping outside. and what do you suppose they eloped in. why in miss jemima parrs fathers slay. and when he went out they were gone and his slay was gone also his horse. of course my mothers uncle thomas didnt steal the horse. he just borroed it and sent it home the next day. but before miss jemima parrs father could get another rig to follow them they were so far away he couldent catch them before they got married. and they lived happy together forever afterwards. mothers uncle thomas lived to be a very old man. he died very suddent. he felt quite well when he went to sleep and when he woke up he was dead.
peter craig.
my most exciting adventure
the editor says we must all write up our most exciting adventure for our magazine. my most exciting adventure happened a year ago last november. i was nearly frightened to death. dan says he wouldn’t of been scared and felicity says she would of known what it was but it’s easy to talk.
it happened the night i went down to see kitty marr. i thought when i went that aunt olivia was visiting there and i could come home with her. but she wasn’t there and i had to come home alone. kitty came a piece of the way but she wouldn’t come any further than uncle james frewen’s gate. she said it was because it was so windy she was afraid she would get the tooth-ache and not because she was frightened of the ghost of the dog that haunted the bridge in uncle james’ hollow. i did wish she hadn’t said anything about the dog because i mightn’t of thought about it if she hadn’t. i had to go on alone thinking of it. i’d heard the story often but i’d never believed in it. they said the dog used to appear at one end of the bridge and walk across it with people and vanish when he got to the other end. he never tried to bite anyone but one wouldn’t want to meet the ghost of a dog even if one didn’t believe in him. i knew there was no such thing as ghosts and i kept saying a paraphrase over to myself and the golden text of the next sunday school lesson but oh, how my heart beat when i got near the hollow! it was so dark. you could just see things dim-like but you couldn’t see what they were. when i got to the bridge i walked along sideways with my back to the railing so i couldn’t think the dog was behind me. and then just in the middle of the bridge i met something. it was right before me and it was big and black, just about the size of a newfoundland dog, and i thought i could see a white nose. and it kept jumping about from one side of the bridge to the other. oh, i hope none of my readers will ever be so frightened as i was then. i was too frightened to run back because i was afraid it would chase me and i couldn’t get past it, it moved so quick, and then it just made one spring right on me and i felt its claws and i screamed and fell down. it rolled off to one side and laid there quite quiet but i didn’t dare move and i don’t know what would have become of me if amos cowan hadn’t come along that very minute with a lantern. and there was me sitting in the middle of the bridge and that awful thing beside me. and what do you think it was but a big umbrella with a white handle? amos said it was his umbrella and it had blown away from him and he had to go back and get the lantern to look for it. i felt like asking him what on earth he was going about with an umbrella open when it wasent raining. but the cowans do such queer things. you remember the time jerry cowan sold us god’s picture. amos took me right home and i was thankful for i don’t know what would have become of me if he hadn’t come along. i couldn’t sleep all night and i never want to have any more adventures like that one.
cecily king.
personals
mr. dan king felt somewhat indisposed the day after christmas—probably as the result of too much mince pie. (dan, indignantly:—“i wasn’t. i only et one piece!”)
mr. peter craig thinks he saw the family ghost on christmas eve. but the rest of us think all he saw was the white calf with the red tail. (peter, muttering sulkily:—“it’s a queer calf that would walk up on end and wring its hands.”)
miss cecily king spent the night of dec. 20th with miss kitty marr. they talked most of the night about new knitted lace patterns and their beaus and were very sleepy in school next day. (cecily, sharply:—“we never mentioned such things!”)
patrick grayfur, esq., was indisposed yesterday, but seems to be enjoying his usual health to-day.
the king family expect their aunt eliza to visit them in january. she is really our great-aunt. we have never seen her but we are told she is very deaf and does not like children. so aunt janet says we must make ourselves scarece when she comes.
miss cecily king has undertaken to fill with names a square of the missionary quilt which the mission band is making. you pay five cents to have your name embroidered in a corner, ten cents to have it in the centre, and a quarter if you want it left off altogether. (cecily, indignantly:—“that isn’t the way at all.”)
ads.
wanted—a remedy to make a fat boy thin. address, “patient sufferer, care of our magazine.”
(felix, sourly:—“sara ray never got that up. i’ll bet it was dan. he’d better stick to his own department.”)
household department
mrs. alexander king killed all her geese the twentieth of december. we all helped pick them. we had one christmas day and will have one every fortnight the rest of the winter.
the bread was sour last week because mother wouldn’t take my advice. i told her it was too warm for it in the corner behind the stove.
miss felicity king invented a new recete for date cookies recently, which everybody said were excelent. i am not going to publish it though, because i don’t want other people to find it out.
anxious inquirer:—if you want to remove inkstains place the stain over steam and apply salt and lemon juice. if it was dan who sent this question in i’d advise him to stop wiping his pen on his shirt sleeves and then he wouldn’t have so many stains.
felicity king.
etiquette department
f-l-x:—yes, you should offer your arm to a lady when seeing her home, but don’t keep her standing too long at the gate while you say good night.
(felix, enraged:—“i never asked such a question.”)
c-c-l-y:—no, it is not polite to use “holy moses” or “dodgasted” in ordinary conversation.
(cecily had gone down cellar to replenish the apple plate, so this passed without protest.)
s-r-a:—no, it isn’t polite to cry all the time. as to whether you should ask a young man in, it all depends on whether he went home with you of his own accord or was sent by some elderly relative.
f-l-t-y:—it does not break any rule of etiquette if you keep a button off your best young man’s coat for a keepsake. but don’t take more than one or his mother might miss them.
dan king.
fashion notes
knitted mufflers are much more stylish than crocheted ones this winter. it is nice to have one the same colour as your cap.
red mittens with a black diamond pattern on the back are much run after. em frewen’s grandma knits hers for her. she can knit the double diamond pattern and em puts on such airs about it, but i think the single diamond is in better taste.
the new winter hats at markdale are very pretty. it is so exciting to pick a hat. boys can’t have that fun. their hats are so much alike.
cecily king.
funny paragraphs
this is a true joke and really happened.
there was an old local preacher in new brunswick one time whose name was samuel clask. he used to preach and pray and visit the sick just like a regular minister. one day he was visiting a neighbour who was dying and he prayed the lord to have mercy on him because he was very poor and had worked so hard all his life that he hadn’t much time to attend to religion.
“and if you don’t believe me, o lord,” mr. clask finished up with, “just take a look at his hands.”
felix king.
general information bureau
dan:—do porpoises grow on trees or vines?
ans. neither. they inhabit the deep sea.
felix king.
(dan, aggrieved:—“well, i’d never heard of porpoises and it sounded like something that grew. but you needn’t have gone and put it in the paper.”
felix:—“it isn’t any worse than the things you put in about me that i never asked at all.”
cecily, soothingly:—“oh, well, boys, it’s all in fun, and i think our magazine is perfectly elegant.”
felicity, failing to see the story girl and beverley exchanging winks behind her back:—“it certainly is, though some people were so opposed to starting it.”)
what harmless, happy fooling it all was! how we laughed as we read and listened and devoured apples! blow high, blow low, no wind can ever quench the ruddy glow of that faraway winter night in our memories. and though our magazine never made much of a stir in the world, or was the means of hatching any genius, it continued to be capital fun for us throughout the year.
