1869.] 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
1 AB 
THE BEST JUVENILE MAGAZINE EVER PUBLISHED IN ANT LAND OR LANGUAGE. 
“OUR YOUNG FOLKS.” 
The January, February, anti March numbers of “ On Yount, Folks ’’ have been welcomed by the Press and the Public with an enthusiasm never before accorded to a Magazine for 
Boys and Girls. The great variety and fresh Interest of its contents, and the eminent literary skill of the writers, make the Magazine attractive to all intelligent persons, young or old, and 
give it a permanent value. 
Tho leading serial, “The Story of a BadBoy,” by T. B. Aldrich, has awakened an eager interest almost without precedent. The experiences and fortunes of Tom Bailey are followed 
with curiosity and delight by hundreds of thousands, and it is safe to state that the interest of the story increases to the end. Wo copy from the April instalment an account of the demor¬ 
alization produced in school by the approach of Independence Bay, and a part of ' 
TOM BAILEY’S NIG-HT BEFORE THE FOURTH. 
Two months had elapsed since my arrival at Bivermouth, 
when the approach of an Important celebration produced 
the greatest excitement among the the juvenile population 
of the town. 
There was very little hard study done in the Temple Gram¬ 
mar School the week preceding the Fourth of July. For 1 
my part, my heart and brain were so full of ilre-crackers. 
Roman-candles, rockets, pin-wheels, squibs, and gunpowder 
in various seductive forms, that I wonder I did n’t explode 
under Mr. Grimshaw’s very nose. I could n’t do a sum to 
save me ; I could n’t tell, for love or money, whether Talla¬ 
hassee was the capital of Tennessee or of Florida ; the pres¬ 
ent and the pluperfect tenses were inextricably mixed in 
my memory, and I did n’t know a verb from an adjective 
when I met one. This was not alone my condition, but that 
of every boy in the school. 
Even Mr. Grimshaw was made a sort of accessory to the 
universal demoralization. In calling the school to order, he 
always rapped on the table with a heavy ruler. Under the 
green baize table-cloth, on the exact spot where he usually 
struck, a certain boy whose name I withold, placed a fat 
torpedo. The result was a loud explosion, which, caused 
Mr. Grimshaw to look queer. Charley Marden was at the 
water-pail at the time, and directed general attention to 
himself by strangling for several seconds and then squirting 
a slender thread of water over the blackboard. 
Mr. Grimshaw fixed his eyes reproachfully oil Charley? but 
said nothing. The real culprit (it was n’t Charley Mardon, 
but the boy whose name I withhold) instantly regretted his 
badness, and after school confessed the whole tiling to Mr. 
Grimshaw, who heaped coals of fire upon the nameless boy’s 
head by giving him five cents for the Fourth of July. If Mr. 
Grimshaw had caned this unknowfi youth, the punishment 
would not have been half so severe. 
On the evening of the 3d I retired to bed very early, In 
order to disarm suspicion. I did n’t sleep a wink, waiting 
for eleven o’clock to come round ; and I thought it never 
would come round, as I lay. counting from timo to time the 
slow strokes of the ponderous bell in the steeple of the Old 
North Church. At length the laggard hour arrived. While 
the clock was striking I jumped out of bed and began 
dressing. 
My grandfather and Miss Abigail were heavy sleepers, and 
I might have stolen down stairs and ouj^at tho front door 
undetected; but such a commonplace proceeding did not 
suit my adventurous disposition. I fastened one end of a 
rope (it was a few yards cut from Kitty Collins’s clothes¬ 
line) to the bedpost nearest the window, and cautiously 
climbed out on the wide pediment oyer the hall. door. I had 
neglected to knot the rope; the result was that the moment 
I swung clear of the pediment, I descended like a flash of 
lightning, and warmed both my hands smartly. The rope, 
moreover, was four or five feet too short; so I got a fall that 
would linvo proved serious had I not tumbled into the 
middle of one of the big rose-bushes growing on either side 
of the steps. 
I scrambled out of that without delay, and was songratu- 
lating myself on my good luck, when I saw by the light of the 
setting moon the form of a man leaning over the garden gate. 
It was one of the town watch, who had probably been observ¬ 
ing my operations with curiosity. Seeing no chance of 
escape, I put a bold face on the matter and walked directly 
up to him. 
“ "What on airth air you a doin’ ?” asked the man, grasping 
the collar of my jacket. 
“ I live here, sir, if you please,” I replied, “ and am going 
to the bonfire. I did n’t want to wake up the old folks, 
that’s all.” 
The man cocked his eye at me in the most amiable manner, 
and released his hold. 
“ Boys is boys,” he muttered. lie did n’t attempt to stop 
me as I slipped through the gate. 
Once beyond his clutches I took to my heels and soon 
reached the Square, where I found forty or fifty fellows 
assembled, engaged in building a pyramid of tar-barrels. 
U- 
The palms of my hands still tingled so that I could n’t join 
in the sport. I stood in the doorway of the Nautalis Bank, 
watching the workers, among whom I recognized lots of 
my schoolmates. They looked like a legion of imps, com¬ 
ing and going in the twilight, busy in raising some infernal 
edifice. What a Babel of voices it was, e verybody directing 
everybody else, and everybody doing everything wrong 1 
To show the kind and degree of interest produced by this story, and tho other attractive 
articles in “ Our Young Folks,” we give the following letter, which expresses fairly tho 
sentiments contained in numerous letters, received daily from all parts of the country. 
Springfield, Feb. 23., 18G9. 
To the Editors of “ Our Young Folks.” 
“Your magazine is such a source of delight in our family, and at the same timo so valuable 
and instructive to our children, that I feel impelled to write you and thank you for what 
you are doing for them and for others like them. We have taken the magazine eve since 
it started, but we think it more interesting than ever this year. 
“The ‘ Story of a Bgd Boy ’ pleases my boys so much that they fairly commit each instal¬ 
ment to memory. Mr. Trowbridge’s articles on Glass-Making we have found particularly 
interesting, and so are the articles by Mr. Parton, and Mr. Hale, and Mrs. Agassiz. I assure 
you that the monthly arrival of your Magazine is a great event in our household. Expec¬ 
tation gets on tiptoe about the middle of each month, after which time the Post-office boy 
is closely watched by two pair of eager young eyes on the lookout for what they call ‘ the 
best magazine that ever was.’ 
“ In sober earnest, dear Editors, I feel that you are doing my children an inestimable good, 
that you are furnishing to them a style of reading in every respect admirable and particu¬ 
larly adapted to them ; and as I see the interest with which they read what you prepare for 
them, and observe its restraining and developing influence upon their young minds, I feel 
grateful that in their education I have such a valuable assistant as your magazine. 
Respectfully yours Mrs.- 
Besides the “ Story of a Bad Boy,” “Quit Young Folks ” for this year contains an exceedingly interesting and valuable series of papers by Rev. E. E. Hale, suggesting Mow to Talk, 
Mow to Write, Mow to Bead, Mow to Travel, Mow to Act in Society, and Mow to Work ; a number of articles by James Parton, including Biographical Sketches of the noted Portuguese 
Discoverers and Navigators ; careful and graphic descriptions of Glass-Making, Ship-Building, Coal-Mining , and other attractive branches of Industry by J. T. Trowbridge ; a very 
valuable series of articles by Mrs. Prof. Agassiz, the eminent naturalist, on Coal Deposits, Coral Animals and Reefs, Earthquakes, etc., several articles on interesting topics of American 
History by J. II. A. Bone ; Declamations by Elijah Kellogg ; Dialogues by Epes Sargent,— and other excellent articles by popular writers, all illustrated by the most skillful artists. 
S3?” “ OUR. YOBlfG POLKS ” is only Two Holla vf^a year, and the numbers for January, February, Mareh, and. April, 1SG9, will be sent free 
to any one who wishes to examine the Magazine, on application to tlic Publishers, 
FIELDS, OSGOOD & CO., 
(Successors to Ticknor &, Fields,) 
124 Tremont Street, Boston. 
