1869 .] 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST 
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“ THE BEST JUVENILE MAGAZINE EVER PUBLISHED IN ANY LAND OR LANGUAGE, i” 
OUR YOUNG FOLKS. 
The Conductors of OUR YOUNG FOLKS are oonstantly receiving the most hearty assurances from all parts of the country, that the Magazine Is liked this year even better than ever 
before. The practical and instructive articles are found to be exceedingly entertaining as well as valuable. Mr.. Hale's delightful series of papers, suggesting JIoiv to Bead, Bow to 
Talk, etc.-, Mrs. Agassiz's graphic and thoroughly reliable articles on Coral Animals and the Reefs they build ; Mr. Trowbridge's vivid descriptions of Glass-Making and Coal- 
Mining ; Mr. Bomb's excellent Historical articles; and Mr. Parton’s account of the discovery of the Canary Islands, and other articles, have won the highest praise from their hun¬ 
dreds ot thousands of readers. 
There are the best of Stories also for Boys and Girls; and gray-beards confess to reading Me. Aldrich's “ Story of a Bad Boy," with as great delight as their grandchildren. From 
the October number of the Story we extract a few pages telling how 
A FROG HE WOULD A-WOOING GO. 
If the reader supposes that I lived all this while in Rivermouth without falling a victim to 
one or more of the young ladies attending Miss Dorothy Gibbs's Female Institute, why, 
then, all I have to say is the reader exhibits his ignorance of human nature. 
Miss Gibbs’s seminary was located within a few minutes' walk of the Temple Grammar 
School, and numbered about thirty-five pupils, the majority of whom boarded at the Hall,— 
Primrose Hall, as Miss Dorothy prettily called it. The Primroses, as we called them, ranged 
from seven years of age to sweet seventeen, and a prettier group of sirens never got togeth¬ 
er even in Rivermouth, for Rivermouth, you should know, is famous for its pretty girls. 
There were tall girls and short girls, rosy girls and pale girls, and girls as brown as ber¬ 
ries; girls like Amazons, slender girls, weird and winning like Undine, girls with black 
tresses, girls with auburn ringlets, girls with every tinge of golden hair. To behold Miss 
Dorothy’s young ladies of a Sunday morning walking to church two by two, the smallest 
toddling at the end of the procession like the bobs at the tail of a kite, was a spectacle to 
fill with tender emotion the least susceptible heart. To see Miss Dorothy marching grimly 
at the head of her light infantry, was to feel the hopelessness of making an attack on any 
part of the column. 
She was a perfect dragon of watchfulness. The most unguarded lifting of an eyelash in 
the fluttering battalion was sufficient to put her on the look-out. She had had experiences 
with the male sex, this Miss Dorothy so prim and grim. It was whispered that her heart 
was a tattered album scrawled over with love-lines, but that she had shut up The volume 
long ago. 
There was a tradition that she had been crossed in love; but it was the faintest of tra¬ 
ditions. A gay young lieutenant of marines had flirted with her at a country ball (A. d. 1811), 
and then marched carelessly away at the head of his company to the shrill music of the fife, 
without so much as a sigli for the girl he left behind him. The years roiled on, the gallant 
gay Lothario—whicli was n’t ids name—married, became a father, and then a grandfather; 
and at the period of which I am speaking his grandchild was actually one of Miss Dorothy’s 
young ladies. So, at least, ran the story. 
The lieutenant himself -was dead these many years; but Miss Dorothy never got over his 
duplicity. She was convinced that the sole aim of mankind was to win the unguarded affec¬ 
tion of maidens, and then march off treacherously with flying colors to the heartless music 
of the drum and fife. To shield the inmates of Primrose Hal: from the bitter influences that 
had blighted her own early affections was Miss Dorothy’s mission in life. 
“No wolves prowling about my lambs,if you please,” said Miss Dorothy. “I will not 
allow it.” 
She was as good as her word. I don't think the boy lives who ever set foot within the 
limits of Primrose Hall while the seminary was under her charge. Perhaps if Miss Dorothy 
had given her young ladies a little more liberty, they would not have thought it “such fun” 
to make eyes over the white lattice fence at the young gentlemen of the Temple Grammar 
School. I say perhaps; for it is one thing to manage thirty-five young ladies and quite 
another thing to talk about it. 
But all Miss Dorothy’s vigilance could not prevent the young folks from meeting in the 
town now and then, nor could her utmost ingenuity interrupt postal arrangements. There 
Was no end of notes passing between the students and the Primroses. Notes tied to the 
heads of arrows were shot *nto dormitory windows; notes were tucked under fences, 
and hidden in the trunks of decayed trees. Every thick place in the boxwood hedge that 
surrounded the seminary was a possible post-office. 
It was a terrible shock to Miss Dorothy the day she unearthed a nest of letters in one of 
the huge wooden urns surmounting the gateway that led to her dovecot. It was a bitter 
moment to Miss Plicebe and Miss Candace and Miss Ilesba, when they bad their locks of hair 
grimly handed back to them by Miss Gibbs in the presence of the whole school. Girls 
whose locks of hair had run the blockade in safety were particularly severe on the offend¬ 
ers. But it did n't stop other notes and other tresses, and I would like to know what can 
stop them while the earth holds together. 
Now when I first came to Rivermouth I looked upon girls as rather tame company; I 
hadn't a spark of sentiment concerning them; but seeing my comrades sending and re. 
ceiving mysterious epistles, wearing bits of ribbon in their button-holes and leaving pack¬ 
ages of confectionery (generally lemon-drops) in the hollow trunks of trees,—why, I felt 
that this was the proper thing to do. I resolved, as a matter of duty, to fall in love with 
somebody, and I did n’t care in the least who it was. In much the same mood that Don 
Quixote selected the Dulcinea del Toboso for his lady-love, I slugled out one of Miss 
Dorothy’s incomparable young ladies for mine. 
I debated a long while whether I should not select two, but at last settled down on one,— 
a pale little girl with blue eyes, named Alice. I shall not make a long story of this, for Alice 
made short work of me. She was secretly in love with Pepper 'Whitcomb. This occasioned 
a temporary coolness between Pepper and myself. 
Not disheartened, however, I placed Laura Rice—I believe it was Laura Rice—in the va¬ 
cant niche. The new idol was more cruel than the old. The former frankly sent me to the 
right about, but tile latter was a deceitful lot. She wore my nosegay in her dress at the 
evening service (tile Primroses were marched to church three times every Sunday), sho 
penned me the daintiest of notes, she sent me the glossiest of ringlets (cut, as I afterwards 
found out, from the stupid head of Miss Gibbs’s chamber-maid), and at the same time was 
holding me and my pony up to ridicule in a series of letters written to Jack Harris. It was 
Harris himself who kindly opened my eyes. 
“ I tell you what, Bailey,” said that young gentleman, “ Laura is an old veteran, and car¬ 
ries too many guns for a youngster. She can’t resist a flirtation; I believe she’d flirt with 
an infant in arms. There’s hardly a fellow in the school that lias n't worn her colors and 
some of her hair. She does n't give out any more of her own hair now. It’s been pretty 
well used up. The demand was greater than the supply, you see. It's all very well to cor¬ 
respond with Laura, but as to looking for anything serious from her, the knowing ones 
don’t. Hope I have n’t hurt your feelings, old boy,” (that was a soothing stroke of flattery 
to call me “old boy,”) “ but’twas my duty as a friend and a Centipede to let you know 
who you were dealing with.” 
Such was tlie advice given me by that time-strickon, care-worn, and embittered man of the 
world, who was sixteen years old if he was a day. 
I dropped Laura. In the course of the next twelve months I had perhaps three or four 
similar experiences, and the conclusion was forced upon me that I was not a boy likely to 
distinguish myself in this branch of business. 
I fought shy of Primrose Hall from that moment. Smiles were .smiled over the boxwood 
hedge, and little hands were occasionally kissed tome; but I only winked my eye patron¬ 
izingly, and passed on. I never renewed tender relations witli Miss Gibbs's young ladies. 
All this occurred during my first year and a half at Rivermouth. 
Between my studies at school, my out-door recreations, and the hurts my vanity received, 
I managed to escape for the time being any very serious attack of that love fever which, 
like the measles, is almost certain to seize upon a boy sooner or later. I was not to be an 
exception. I was merely biding my time. The incidents I have now to relate took place 
shortly after the events described in the last chapter. 
The price of OUR. YOUMG FOLKS is $2.00 a year. The first four numbers for 1839 will be sent free to any person 
wishing to examine the E^agazin©, on application to the Publishers, 
FIELDS, ©SGOOI> & CO., Publishers, Boston. 
