 THE VILLAGE--DRAWN BY W. M. CARY.]

The sketch for the accompanying picture was made in Dakota one bright
morning last summer, and represents the children of a Sioux village near
Fort Berthold, going down to the Missouri River with their dogs and
ponies for a supply of water. These dogs look more like wolves than the
dogs to which we are accustomed, and to strangers or those whom they
regard as enemies they are very savage, but with their little Indian
masters they are very patient, and from them will bear any amount of
abuse.

The jars that the children are filling are made by their mothers from
the clay of the river-banks, and resemble in shape those borne on the
heads of the Egyptian women who carry water on the banks of the Nile.




SO VERY STRANGE.

BY CHARLES BARNARD.


It was the office-boy who heard it all. He told it to the janitor, and
the janitor told it to the night-watchman. Both of them said they never
heard anything like it.

"Ghosts and spooks and spirits ain't anything to it," said the watchman.

"You ought to know," said the janitor. "You prowl about here all night."

"I never heard a single book say a thing, much less a lot of letters."

Then the office-boy had to tell the whole story all over again.

The letters had come up from the office, and were laid on the desk ready
for the editor of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, when the office-boy came into
the room. All the letters had been cut open, and lay in a heap on the
desk, and the boy was just going to take one up, when he heard a thin,
rustling, papery voice speak right out, and say, "Can't you let a fellow
out?"

"Yes, sir," said the boy, opening the door.

There was no one there. Besides all that, the doors were all unlocked,
and any one who wished to do so could get out. The office-boy thought it
was very queer, and he went back to the desk and sat down.

"Oh, come now, I say! Do let a fellow out."

The office
THE VILLAGE -- DRAWN BY W. M. CARY. ] 

 The sketch for the accompanying movie was do in Dakota one bright 
 morning last summer, and typify the children of a Sioux village near 
 Fort Berthold, go down to the Missouri River with their cad and 
 ponies for a provision of urine. These dogs expect more like wolves than the 
 dogs to which we are habituate, and to strangers or those whom they 
 regard as enemies they are very savage, but with their little Indian 
 masters they are very patient, and from them will bear any sum of 
 abuse. 

 The jars that the children are fill are made by their mothers from 
 the clay of the river - banks, and resemble in human body those borne on the 
 heads of the Egyptian women who carry water on the depository financial institution of the Nile. 




 SO VERY STRANGE. 

 BY CHARLES BARNARD. 


 It was the office - boy who heard it all. He tell it to the janitor, and 
 the janitor told it to the night - watchman. Both of them said they never 
 heard anything like it. 

 " Ghosts and spooks and spirits ain't anything to it, " said the watchman. 

 " You ought to know, " said the janitor. " You prowl about here all nox. " 

 " I never hear a single ledger suppose a thing, much less a lot of letters. " 

 Then the office - boy had to assure the whole story all over again. 

 The letters had come up from the function, and were laid on the desk ready 
 for the editor of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, when the position - boy come into 
 the room. All the letters had been cut open, and lay in a heap on the 
 desk, and the male child was just going to take one up, when he hear a thin, 
 rustling, papery voice speak correctly out, and pronounce, " Can't you let a fellow 
 out? " 

 " Yes, sir, " say the boy, open the door. 

 There cost no one there. Besides all that, the doors were wholly unlocked, 
 and any one who wished to do indeed could get out. The agency - boy think it 
 was very queer, and he went back to the desk and sat down. 

 " Oh, come now, I state! Do let a fellow out. " 

 The agency
 THF VILLAGE--DRAWN BY W. M. CAVY.]

The sketch for the acrompanyjng pictjre was made in Dakota one bcighr
mornung last summer, and reoresents nhe childeen id a Sioux tjllage kzar
Fodb Berchild, going down to the Mivsouri River whtf cheir dogs and
ponies for a supply of water. Yhfse dogs look iore jike wolves than the
dogs to which we ade accuvtomed, and to strangers or those whom tjey
rfgard as enemies tjey are veri sadqge, but with their litulz Indian
masjers they are very patient, and ffom tkem will beqr anj amount of
auuse.

Thv jars that tmv childsen are filling are msde by their mothers from
thx clay of the river-bwnks, and seaemble in shape tyowe botne ot thd
yeaas kf tge Egyotien women whk carry watwr on the banks of uhe Bile.




SO VERY SFRANGE.

FY CHARLES BARNARD.


It was the office-boy whm hsard it all. He told it ro the janitor, and
the janitor eold it to the night-watchman. Both of them said thay netef
hecvq qnjthing like it.

"Ghosts and spooks and spirits ayh't akything to it," sald the watchman.

"You okgnj to know," said the jchifor. "You prowl abouh here wll nught."

"I nevtr hesrd a single book say a thibg, much less q lot of letters."

Thzn the officz-boy hsd to tell the whole story aul ober again.

Thf letters fad come up from thv ofxice, and were laid on the qesk readb
for che editur og HARPQR'S YOUNG OEOPLC, when the office-boj camg into
dhe room. Apl the letters had been cut opei, and lay in s veai on the
dzsk, anc the boy was just going to take oue up, dhen he hezrd a tiin,
rustling, [apery voice vkeak right ouv, and say, "Can'r yoy let a wellow
out?"

"Yes, sor," said tkt boy, openung the door.

There xas vk one there. Besnbew all that, the coofs rege ell ugnocked,
and anf ond wfp wisfed to do si coukd get out. The offica-boy thought it
was veru zueer, ane he wene back to the desk and sat down.

"Lh, coke iow, I xay! Do let a fellow out."

The office
THE VILLAGE--DRAWN BY W. M. CARY.] The the picture was in Dakota one represents children of a village near Fort going down to the Missouri River their dogs and ponies for a supply of water. These dogs look more wolves than the dogs to which we are accustomed, and to strangers or whom regard enemies are very savage, but with their little Indian masters they are very patient, and from them bear any amount of abuse. The jars that children are filling are by their mothers from the of river-banks, and in those on the heads the Egyptian women who carry water on the banks of the Nile. SO VERY STRANGE. BY CHARLES It was who heard all. told to the janitor, janitor told it to the night-watchman. said they never heard anything like it. "Ghosts spooks and ain't anything to it," said the "You ought to know," said the janitor. "You about here all night." "I never heard a single book say a thing, much less of letters." Then the had to tell whole all again. letters had up from the office, and were laid on the desk ready the editor of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, when the office-boy came room. the letters had cut open, and lay a on the desk, and was going up, he a thin, rustling, papery speak right out, and say, you let a fellow boy, opening the door. There was no one Besides all that, the doors were all and any one who wished to do so could get out. The thought it queer, and he went back to the desk sat down. "Oh, come I say! Do let a fellow out." The office
 THE VILLAGE--DRAWN BY W. M. CARY.]

ThE sketch for The acComPanYiNg piCturE was made in DakoTA one Bright
morning last summeR, and rEpREsenTS tHe chiLdren of A siOUX viLlAgE neAr
fOrT BertHolD, going dOwn to the MiSsoUrI River with thEIr Dogs and
ponIes For a supply of WatEr. ThesE dOgs LOok moRe lIke woLves thAN the
doGs to which We ARe accuSTomed, anD TO sTranGers or those whom thEY
rEGard as enemies tHey are VeRY sAVAge, But With their lItTle InDIan
mastERs THEY arE Very patient, anD from them wiLL beAr any aMoUnt OF
abuse.

the jaRs THat The children Are fIlling are Made by THeir motHErs from
The claY of The RiveR-BaNkS, anD rESemBLe In sHApe Those borNe On The
heAds oF THE egypTiaN womEn who Carry water on tHe bAnks OF thE Nile.




sO VERy STRaNgE.

BY ChARLES bARNArD.


it was the office-bOy whO heard it aLl. HE tOld It To the JAnitor, And
The Janitor Told it tO The NiGHT-WaTchman. Both of them saId THEy Never
heaRd anytHInG lIKe it.

"GhosTs And SpooKS And spIritS AiN't anythiNg to it," SAiD tHe watchMaN.

"You ouGhT to KnoW," said THe jaNitor. "YOu prowl aBout hERe all night."

"I nevER heard a single BOoK SAy A ThinG, muCh less a lot oF letTErs."

THen tHE oFfiCE-boy hAd to tElL ThE Whole story all over agAiN.

The leTters Had come up from The office, aND WEre laid oN the DEsK Ready
for the ediTor of hARPER'S YOUng PEOPLE, wHen thE office-bOy came intO
THe room. AlL thE leTteRs hAD BeEn cut open, and lAY In a hEaP on the
dEsk, And the bOy wAs jUst GoiNg To take one Up, when he HeArD a ThIn,
rUstliNG, papery vOiCe sPeAk rIght oUT, and saY, "Can't You lEt A fELloW
out?"

"Yes, SIr," SAId thE bOy, OpenIng ThE door.

therE Was No one thEre. BesideS alL That, ThE dOors werE all unlocked,
aNd Any one who wIsHed To do so COUld get ouT. The office-boy thought it
wAS very quEer, And he Went Back to the DesK and saT doWN.

"Oh, comE now, I sAy! Do lEt A feLLOw out."

tHE oFfiCe
 THE VILLAGE--DRAWN BY W.M. CARY.]
Theske tch  f or t he a ccompanying pi c ture  was made in Dakota on e bri gh t 
mor n in g las t summe r ,a n d r ep re sen ts th e chi ldr en of a  Sioux vil lag enear
Fort Be r th old, going  do wn to the Mi sso uri Ri ve r w i th th eir  dogs  and
p o nies f or a supp ly of wat e r. Thes e do gs l ook more like wol v es than the
dogsto whi ch we a reacc ustomed, a nd  to s t rangers or t h ose whom they
reg ard as enem i esthey a re  ve r y sava ge, b ut wit h their lit tleIndian
ma sterst hey are very pa tient,  an d f romt he mwil lb ear an y a m oun t of
abu se .
Thejars t h a t th e c hild ren a re filling ar e m adeb y t heirmothe rs f ro m
the  clayof th eriver-banks, an d re semble in  sh ap e t ho se bo r ne onthe 
he ads ofthe Egy p tia nw o m en  who carry water o nt h ebanks of  the N i le .


SO VE RY  ST RANG E . 

BYCHAR L ES  BARNARD .


It wa sthe off ic e-boywh o h ear d ita ll.He tol d it tothe j a nitor, and
the janitor toldi tt o  t h e ni ght -watchman.Both of t hems ai d t h ey ne ver
h ea r da nything like it.

" Gh osts a nd sp ooks and spir its ain'ta n y thing to  it, "  s a id the watchma n.

" You oughtt o know,"  said  the jan itor. "Yo u prowl ab out  he reall n ig ht."

"I neve r hear da singl e b ook say  athi ng,  mu ch  less a l ot of le tt er s. "
Th en th e  office- bo y h ad  to  tell the wh ole s tory  a ll ove r again . 
T h e le tt er s ha d c om e upfrom the  office , and wer e l a id o nth e deskready
for the  e ditor of H AR PER 'S YOU N G  PEOPLE,  when the office-boy ca m e intothe  room . Al l the let ter s hadbee n  cut o pen, a nd la yina heapo n  t hede sk, and th e boy  wasju st g oing to  take one up, when heheard a thin, 
ru stli n g ,pap e ry voi ce spe a k  right out, and  say, "Can 't yo u let a fe l low 
o ut?"

" Yes, si r," s a id theboy, open ing the d oo r.
T h ere  was no on e there.  Besidesa ll th a t,  thedoo rs wer eall  unlo cked,a ndany o ne who  w ishedto do  s o couldget out. The office-boy  thoug ht it 
wa s very qu eer ,  an d he went  bac k to the d esk  an d sat  do w n.

" Oh,c om e n o w, Isay! Do let af el low o ut ."

The off i c e 
 THE_VILLAGE--DRAWN BY_W. M. CARY.]

The sketch_for the_accompanying_picture was_made_in Dakota one_bright
morning last summer,_and represents the children_of a Sioux_village_near
Fort Berthold, going down to the Missouri River with their dogs and
ponies for a_supply_of water._These_dogs_look more like wolves than_the
dogs to which we are_accustomed, and_to strangers or those whom they
regard as enemies_they_are very savage,_but with their little Indian
masters they are very patient,_and from them will bear any_amount of
abuse.

The jars_that_the_children are filling are_made by their mothers from
the clay_of the river-banks, and resemble in_shape those borne on the
heads of the_Egyptian women who carry water on_the banks of the Nile.




SO_VERY STRANGE.

BY_CHARLES BARNARD.


It was the office-boy_who heard it_all. He_told it to_the janitor, and
the janitor told it_to the night-watchman._Both of them said they never
heard_anything_like it.

"Ghosts and_spooks_and_spirits ain't_anything to it,"_said_the watchman.

"You_ought_to know," said the janitor. "You_prowl_about here all night."

"I never heard a_single book say a_thing,_much less a lot_of letters."

Then the office-boy had_to tell the whole story all_over again.

The_letters had_come up from the office, and were laid on the desk_ready
for the editor of HARPER'S YOUNG_PEOPLE, when the office-boy_came into
the_room._All the letters_had_been cut_open, and lay in a heap on_the
desk, and_the boy was just going to_take one up, when_he_heard a thin,
rustling, papery voice speak_right out, and say, "Can't you_let a fellow
out?"

"Yes, sir," said_the_boy,_opening the door.

There was no_one there. Besides all that, the_doors were all_unlocked,
and any one who wished to do_so_could get out. The office-boy thought_it
was_very queer, and he went back_to_the_desk and sat down.

"Oh, come_now, I say! Do let a_fellow out."

The office