St. Nicholas, Vol. 5, No. 5, March, 1878

In Short

This volume serves as a curated miscellany, functioning as a bridge between the rigorous education and the imaginative play of nineteenth-century youth. It mixes short fiction, instructional essays on science and manufacturing, poetry, and personal correspondence from its readers. By weaving together stories of Lapp maidens and runaway boys with technical explanations of telegraph cables and match-making, it reflects the era's boundless curiosity. It remains a significant historical artifact, capturing a moment when the world felt both vast and increasingly connected through human ingenuity.

The Story

The narrative arc of the volume is not a single linear tale but a mosaic of experiences. We open in a snowy Norwegian forest, where the wood-cutter Peder Olsen’s children find joy in the harsh winter, only to have their domestic rhythm interrupted by the arrival of Hansa, a mysterious Lapp girl. Her integration into the household—marked by the cutting of her hair and her eventual acceptance through her spinning and storytelling skills—mirrors the volume’s broader theme of learning to embrace the unfamiliar.

From the frozen North, the focus shifts to the bustling life of Barkhampstead, a coastal town waiting for the return of a whaling ship. We follow Crip, a shoemaker’s son, whose birthday is marred by a punishment in the garret, a scene that evokes the small-scale dramas of childhood. Soon, the tension of the mundane is replaced by the high-stakes moral testing of boys at the Blackrock school, where a miniature painting is stolen, leading to a trial of character and integrity. This sense of scrutiny and growth persists as we move to the city, where a poor, struggling boy—the "hermit"—prays for help in a box, a moment of profound spiritual vulnerability witnessed by a passing carter named Joe.

The arc eventually broadens to encompass the globe itself. We learn about the laying of the massive transatlantic cable, a triumph of engineering that mirrors the personal growth of the characters. We see the humility of a horse named Charley, whose dignity is challenged by the machinery of travel, and we conclude with the gentle, quiet reflection of a visit to the poet John Greenleaf Whittier. The volume ends not with a grand climax but with a transition back to the reader—a collection of letters from children about their pets and a series of complex word puzzles, inviting the audience to take up the mantle of curiosity themselves. It is a journey from the isolation of a log-cabin winter to the intellectual and social engagement of a globalized, literate society.

How It Unfolds

The winter landscape The book establishes a setting of harsh, crystalline beauty in the Norwegian woods, where children find play in the freezing climate. This domestic peace is challenged by the arrival of an outsider, Hansa, whose presence forces the household to negotiate identity and belonging.

The moral crucible The narrative moves into the schoolroom and the town, where small infractions—like the disappearance of a miniature—become tests of loyalty and truthfulness. These beats emphasize that a child’s world is governed by complex social codes and the necessity of maintaining personal integrity.

The industrial expansion The scope widens to include the physical mechanics of progress, such as the laying of deep-sea cables and the chemical processes of mining. By juxtaposing these technical feats with the simple life of a shoemaker’s son, the book suggests that the modern age is built upon both massive machines and individual, quiet efforts.

The reflective conclusion The final beat brings the reader into the presence of poets and naturalists, grounding the previous adventures in a sense of history and legacy. It leaves the reader with a final set of challenges—puzzles and enigmas—that demand active participation rather than passive observation.

The People

Peder Olsen and his mother, Ingeborg, anchor the beginning, representing the traditional, stern, yet protective rural authority. Hansa, the Lapp girl, acts as the catalyst for change, moving from a stranger with long hair and reindeer boots to a valued family member who proves her worth through labor and narrative.

Crip, the shoemaker’s son, embodies the restlessness of youth, caught between the rules of his father and the siren call of the sea. In contrast, the boys at Blackrock school, particularly Howard and Digby, represent the friction of communal living, where accusations and suspicions force them to define themselves against the weight of peer and institutional scrutiny.

Finally, the figures of Joe the carter and the "hermit" boy represent the capacity for empathy across class lines. Joe’s willingness to listen to the boy’s prayer signifies a bridge between the lonely, suffering individual and the community. The poet John Greenleaf Whittier appears as the ultimate guide, a figure of serene intellect who reminds the reader that the most profound experiences are found in the observation of nature and the kindness of strangers.

In Its Own Voice

"She seemed about twelve years old, but no taller than Olga, who was just ten."

This introduces the reader to Hansa, the mysterious and resilient Lapp girl whose arrival disrupts the wood-cutter's family.

"The dynamometer is an instrument which shows the exact degree of the strain on the cable, and the wheel attached to it rises and falls as the strain is greater or less."

This precise, technical description captures the era’s fascination with the mechanical engineering required to connect continents.

"I wish that the silent brooks would shout, And the apple-blossoms begin to pout; And if I wish long enough, no doubt The fairy Spring will bring it about!"

This hopeful stanza expresses the longing for renewal and the rhythmic patience central to the volume’s poetry.

What It's Really About

The volume is fundamentally an exploration of the transition from the private world of the home to the public world of discovery. It asks how one maintains a sense of self while navigating the demands of society, whether that society is a small village in Norway or a bustling American school. It argues that character is formed through the dual experience of intellectual rigor—understanding how matches are made or how cables are laid—and the development of moral empathy. The underlying question is how to remain "merry" and "joyous" in a world that is often cold, demanding, and technically complex. It posits that curiosity is the primary tool for navigating this tension.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the slow, deliberate pace of nineteenth-century literature will find this volume deeply rewarding. It offers a portal into a time when children were expected to engage with the world through both rigorous observation and whimsical imagination. You will feel the quiet satisfaction of a world that values skill—spinning, storytelling, or understanding the mechanics of a telegraph—as much as it values kindness.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the period’s specific attitudes. The prose reflects the strict gender roles and the sometimes condescending view of "outsider" cultures, such as the references to Hansa as a "Lapp child" whose value is tied to her utility. Furthermore, the length and the slow build of the instructional essays may feel disconnected from the rapid pacing of contemporary media. Yet, there is a lingering warmth in these pages. The descriptions of the natural world—"rosy apples" in an autumn orchard or the "pure, white snow" of a Norwegian winter—remain vivid and affecting. For those willing to look past the dated moralizing, the book offers a rare, steadying look at a world that was still learning how to be connected, reminding us that wonder is a discipline one must practice every day.