File:Harper's young people (1879) (14569408469).jpg

Identifier: harpersyoungpeop00newy1883 (find matches)
Title: Harper's young people
Year: 1879 (1870s)
Authors:
Subjects: Children's periodicals, American
Publisher: New York : Harper & Bros.
Contributing Library: New York Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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gs are such as to give better opportunityfor their formation. They are often called in the news-papers cyclones, from the(ireek word which means a cir-cle. And on the desert plains of Nevada and Arizonaand Xew Mexico they often raise the sand in huge col-umns uhich go marching along at a very stately pace.I have sometimes seen three or four of them at one timewithin a few mil. , of each other, each being from one totwo thousand feet in height. 1 should be glad to tell youabout them, but we have not time for it now. lint why did they lire at it, and what good did it do . It is the common belief of sailors that a cannon firedat a \\ ater spout will break it down, but I do not know an vevidence that the idea is correct. If the shots are fired att he I imc u hen the whirlwind is about to come to an endihe\ uoiild naturally think thai their shot had done thework. But how the passage of a shot through such aslorm as a waterspout really is could produce any effect.on it 1 can not understand.
Text Appearing After Image:
FIRING AT A WATER-SPOUT. 598 HARPERS YOUNG PEOPLE. VOLUME IV. HAREBELLS. BY SUSAN HARTLEY SWETT. DO you know what the harebells areThat hang- from the rocks by the sea.And nod to the silver call of the wind And the drowsy hum of ihe bee .Oh, they are thebells ihat were stolen awayFrom fairy steeples one summer day. The thief was a spiteful ell. Who, banished from Elrinland.Brought them with him into the earth. Anil scattered them over the strandWhere a little beach bird was telling its dreamTo a sand-flower pink and a gay sunbeam. Then the little bird straightway flew To Elrland and told Ihe queen,Who sailed that way on a dragon-fly, And, lifting her wand of urecii.Touched the bright bells that told the hoursUntil they were only some pretty flowers. There was no soft greensward there By the great blue billowy sea,So she hung them by a light green thread To the rocks and moss Uifts wee.Where the tirst soft kiss of the evening dewChanged them from silver to deepest blue. But though they

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