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ST. NICHOLAS:
AN
LLUSTRATEI) IVlAGAZINE
Mac
For Young Folks.
VOLUME XXXIX.
Part II. — May to October, 1912.
The CENTURY CO., NEW YORK
FREDERICK WARNE & CO., LONDON.
Copyright, 1912, by The Century Co.
The De Vinne Press.
of
in
library, Univ. of
North Carol»
ST. NICHOLAS:
VOLUME XXXIX.
PART II.
Six Months — May to October, 191 2.
CONTENTS OF PART II. VOLUME XXXIX.
PAGE
Aeroplane, The. ( Illustrations from photographs) Harold S. Lynn 982
Afternoon Party. Ax — The First Arrival. Picture, from a painting by
J. A. Muenier 629
Amazon, Adrift on the. ( Illustrated by George A. King) Dezi'ey Austin Cobb 1066
Artist and His Dogs. An. (Illustrated from paintings by Percival Rosseau) Frances W. Marshall 963
Aztec Jingles. ( Illustrated by the Author ) /. G. Francis
Tranquillity Disturbed 710
The Soul Serene 1024
Balearic Islands, The Dr. S. J. Fort 898
Ballads of the Be-Ba-Boes. Verse. (Illustrated by Katharine M. Daland)D. K. Stevens
The Military Band 586
The Society Circus 684
The Fourth of July Regatta 782
The Annual Fishing Match 889
The Agricultural Fair 974
The Unsuspected Talent 1 106
Ballooning: President Washington and Flying. (Illustrated) Marion Florence Lansing. 800
Base-ball :
How I Became a "Big-League" Pitcher. (Illustrated by Frank Tenney
Johnson, and with photographs and diagrams ) Christy Mathez^'son 605
Playing the Game. ( Illustrated with diagrams and from photographs) . .C. H. Claudy 726
• 804, 899, 1002. 1097
Battle-ships. For the Pennant, or. Battle-ships at Target-Practice.
( Illustrations from photographs ) Charles B. Brewer 771
Beetleburg Amusement Park, A Spring Evening at the. Picture, drawn
by Harrison Cady 639
Beetleburg, The Annual Moonlight Hop in. Picture, drawn by Harrison
Cady IOg6
Beetleburg. The Great June Parade in. Picture, drawn by Harrison Cady 711
Birds, House-Builders to the. (Illustrations from photographs) Harriet Gillespie 698
'"Book-Line," The. (Illustrations from photographs) Montrose J. Moses 740
Boy and the Bird, The. Verse. (Illustrated) Charles F. Hardy 700
Brave Little Mother, A. (Illustrated by George A. King) Flora Macdonald 778
Breakfast Party, The. Picture, from a painting by Charles C. Curran 1089
Cannon, In the Mouth of a. (Illustrated by Jay Hambidge) Mary Richards Bcrrv 1010
Cheerful Little Girl, The, and Her Cheerful Little Doll. (Illustrated by
Alice Caddy) Caroline Stetson Allen 837
933. 1028
Ch^dren's Libraries : The "Book-Line." ( Illustrations from photographs) . Montrose I. Moses 740
Clue Chase. A. (Illustrated) F. F. H 713
Crew of the "Eskimo," The. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) Thomas Hollis 867
Crofton Chums. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Ralph Henry Barbour 590
vi CONTENTS
PAGE
Daddy Do-Funny's, Ole, Wisdom Jingles. Verse. (Illustrated by George
A. King) Ruth McEnery Stuart .... 1020
Daisy Field, The. Picture, from a painting by Cliarles C. Curran 820
Deborah's Change of Heart. ( Illustrated by W. F. Stecher) Helen Ward Banks 579
Dogs, An Artist and His. (Illustrated from paintings by Percival
Rosseau) Frances IV. Marshall .... 963
Domestic Pirate, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Charles F. Lester 884
Dorothy of Salem Town. Verse. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Alix Thorn 780
Dream-Ship, The. Verse. ( Illustrated) Miriam S. Clark 799
"Duet, A." Picture, drawn by Gertrude A. Kay 83s
Electricity, How, is Generated. (Illustrated with diagrams) Albert Walton 1022
Fairy-time. Verse. (Illustrated by Elizabeth Colborne) Frances W. Marshall 874
Famous Pictures. (Illustrated) Charles L. Barstow 1090
Fishing-Rod, The Magnetism of the. Pictures, drawn by Hy. Mayer 999
Galapagos Tortoise: Positively the Oldest Inhabitant. (Illustration
from photograph ) Augusta Huiell Seaman . . . 688
Giant, The End of a. Verse. ( Illustrated by Albertine R. Wheelan ) Pauline Frances Camp .... 802
Gordon, Charles George. (Illustrated by Harry Fenn, R. Talbot Kelly, and
from photographs) Hamilton Fish Armstrong. 927
Highwayman's Surprise, The Young. Pictures, drawn by C. F. Lester 906
Horseless Carriage, Uncle John and His, ( Illustration from photograph) . Marian Phelps 914
How I Became a "Big-League" Pitcher. ( Illustrated by Frank Tenney
Johnson, and with photographs and diagrams) Christy Mathewson 605
Jingles. (Illustrated by the Author) Charles F. Lester 1116
Johnny's Fourth of July Oration. Picture, drawn by C. F. Lester 836
King's Vacation, The. (Illustrated by C. T. Hill) Alfred Hayes 1085
Knights of the Golden Spur, The. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) Rupert Sargent Holland . . 631
Knots, How to Tie. (Illustrations from photographs) H. D. Jones 1026
Knox, General, Headquarters: A Relic of the Revolution. (Illustrations
from photographs) Everett McNeil 786
Lady-bird, The— A Folk Charm. Verse Arthur Guiterman 923
Lady of the Lane, The. (Illustrated by E. C. Caswell) Frederick Orin Bartlett . . . 642
734, 790, 907, 978
Limericks. Verse : Minnie Lcona Upton 906
Lucky Sixpence, The. (Illustrated by Arthur E. Becher) Emilic Benson Knipc and
Aldcn Arthur Knipc 596,
702, 826, 876, 988, 1075
Magic Bottles, The. ( Illustrated by Rachel R. Elmer) Adapted by Julius Robinson 617
'Maginative People Only ! For. ( Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Dorothy Canfield 675
Mary Sunshine. (Illustrated by E. C. Caswell) Marjorie Louise Hillis . . . .1124
Mathewson, Christy: How I Became a "Big-League" Pitcher. (Illustrated
by Frank Tenney Johnson, and with photographs and diagrams) 605
May-Day Song, An Old Time. Verse. (Illustrated by Otto Rebele)
Adapted by Arthur Guiterman 585
May-Flowers. Verse Pauline Frances Camp . . . . 641
Miracle, The. Verse Harriet H. Picrson 628
"Morning," "Noon." and "Night." Pictures, from paintings by Francis Day. 1071
Mouse, Mr., and Mr. Toad. Picture, drawn by E. G. Lutz 898
Oldest Inhabitant, Positively the. (Illustration from photograph) Augusta Huiell Seaman . . . .688
Ostriches, A Team of. (Illustration from photograph) Lawrence W . Neff 915
Pantry Ghosts, The. Verse Frederic Richardson 1009
Peace Payson's Motto. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Elizabeth Price 1059
Pennant, For the, or, Battle-ships at Target- Practice. (Illustrations
from photographs) Charles B. Brewer 771
Persian Kitten, The. Picture, from a painting by Louise Cox 779
Petronel's Light. (Illustrated by Edwin J. Prittie) Jzola Forrester 893
Phonograph and the Birds, The. Picture, drawn by Walt Kuhn 897
CONTENTS vn
PAGE
Pictures, Famous. (Illustrated) Charles L. Barstou> icgo
"Play Ball!" Verse. (Illustration by E. W. Kemble) Arthur Chamberlain 1097
Playing the Game. (Base-ball Series) (Illustrated with diagrams and
from photographs ) C. H. Claudy 726
804, 899, 1002, 1097
Point Rock. (Illustrated by the Author) Frank Stick 912
Polly's Inheritance. (Illustrated by Blanche Fisher Wright) Edna Payson Brett 924
President, Seeing the. Verse. ( Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) N. F. Richardson 834
Prince Scarlet, The Story of. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) Mary Stewart 796
Princess Mary. (Illustrations from photographs) Marion Ryan 723
Puritan Maying, A. (Illustrated by Edwin J. Prittie) M. Eloise Talbot 690
Revolution, A Relic of the. (The General Knox Headquarters House)
(Illustrations from photographs) Everett McNeil 786
Romping. Verse. ( Illustrated by the Author) Marian Greene 875
Rosseau, Percival: An Artist and His Dogs. (Illustrated from paintings
by Percival Rosseau) Frances W . Marshall 963
Sadie Swung, Sally Sung. Verse James Rozvc 604
Sea-Serpent, The. Picture, drawn by Bonnibel Butler 987
Sensitive Plant, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Mary S. Cowles Clark .... 701
Shore, By the. Verse. (Illustrated by S. Wendell Mitchell) Mrs. Schuyler Van
Rensselaer 969
Siesta, The. Verse. ( Illustration from photograph) Carl Werner 696
"Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects." George Lawrence Parker
The Body-Guard 640
The World We Live In 712
Coming Home Again 997
Making a Living 1 1 1 5
Sky, The. Verse Laura Spencer Portor .... 1065
Song-Sparrow : A Brave Little Mother. (Illustrated by George A. King) . . Flora Macdonald 778
Song-Sparrow. The Story of the. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) Mary Stewart 885
Soul Serene, The. (An Aztec Jingle) Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) . J. G. Francis 1024
"Spring Freshet, A." Picture, drawn by Gertrude Kay 616
Sudan, Sight- Seeing in the. Picture, drawn by Culmer Barnes 715
"Summer." Picture, from a painting by Frank W. Benson 973
Summer Battle, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Rudolph F. Bunncr 1025
Summer Fancy, A. Picture, drawn by C. F. Lester 873
"Surfman No. 7." (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) George C. Lane 970
Tale of the Tailless Cat, The. Verse Pauline Frances Camp. . . .1117
Tease, The. Verse Minnie Leona Upton 683
Thoughtful Little Friend, A. Picture, drawn by A. Z. Baker 595
Townsend Twins, The— Camp Directors. ( Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) . . . Warren L. Eldrcd 622
715, 813, 916, 1013. 1117
Tranquillity Disturbed. (An Aztec Jingle) Verse. (Illustrated by the
Author) J . G. Francis 710
Tricked ! Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) May Aiken 630
Triplets' Plain Party, The. ( Illustrated by E. A. Furman) Elisabeth Price 821
Trouble in High Life. Picture, drawn by Culmer Barnes 836
"Tug of War, The." Picture, from a painting by Fred Morgan 905
"Twins, The." Picture, drawn by Gertrude Kay 697
Waiting for the Shower to Pass. Picture, drawn by Harriet Repplier 648
Walcheren, Holland, Summer Days on thf. Island of. Pictures from
photographs 1012
Washington, President, and Flying. (Illustrated) Marion Florence Lansing. 800
"We and Our Neighbors." Verse Edith M. Russell 630
When the Day is Over. Picture, drawn by Sarah S. Stilwell 937
Whippoorwill, The. Verse. (Illustrated) Edzvard N. Teall 803
Who-oo? Verse. (Illustration by Maurice Clifford) Jean Halifax 714
CONTENTS
Wireless Station, An Evening at the. (Illustrated by Otto Rebele, George
Varian, and from photographs) Francis Arnold Collins. . . . mo
Wrong Side, The. Verse '. Alice E. Allen 789
FRONTISPIECES
"Springtime," from a painting by Sydney Kendrick, facing page 579 — "Homeward Bound," by C. M.
Relyea, facing page 675 — " 'Oh, Pardon Me, Your Excellency ! ' I cried," by Arthur E. Becher, facing page
771 — "Gathering Wild Asters," from a painting by Charles C. Curran, facing page 867 — "In the Forest,"
from a painting by Percival Rosseau, facing page 963 — "The Amateur of Painting," from a painting by
Meissonier, facing page 1059.
DEPARTMENTS
For Very Little Folk. (Illustrated)
What Happened to Betty and Polly '. Nora Bennett 652
Picking Flowers. Verse. ("Jack and Jane and Betsy Anne'') Katharine M. Daland 754
The Bossy Calf. Verse. "
The Drum-Maj or. Verse J Veils Hastings .
Willie's Air-Castle. Verse Edwin C. Beal .
Making Friends. Verse
755
850
851
F. IV. M 851
"Jack's Circus." Verse. ("Jack and Jane and Betsy Anne") Katharine M. Daland 946
"Beside the Sea." Verse. " " 947
"In the Hayfield." Verse. " " " " " " 1042
"Jerry's Joke." Verse. " " 1043
The Wolf and the Little Lamb Venie van Blarcom 1 136
Books and Reading. (Illustrated) Hildcgardc Haiuthorne . . . 649
764, 861, 956, 1052, 1 148
Nature and Science. (Illustrated) 654, 747, 842, 938, 1035, 1129
St. Nicholas League. (Illustrated) ! 662, 756, 852, 948, 1044, 1140
The Letter-Box. (Illustrated) 766, 1150
The Riddle-Box. (Illustrated) 671, 767, 863, 959, 1055, 1151
Editorial Notes 958
[The entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission]
CONTENTS OF ST. NICHOLAS FOR MAY, 1912.
Frontispiece. "Springtime." From a painting by Sydney Kendrick. " Page
Deborah's Change of Heart. Story Helen Ward Banks 579
Illustrated by William F. Stecher.
An Old Time May-Day Song. Verse. Adapted by Arthur Guiterman 585
Illustrated by Otto Rebele.
The Military Band. ("Ballads of the Be-Ba-Boes.") Verse D.K.Stevens 586
Illustrated by Katharine M. Daland.
Crofton Chums. Serial Story Ralph Henry Barbour 590
Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
A Thoughtful Little Friend. Picture. Drawn by A. Z. Baker 595
-The Lucky Sixpence Serial Story { SSSSSS ^ } 596
Illustrated by Arthur Becher. V " '
Sadie Swung, Sally Sung. Verse James Rowe 604
How I Became a " Big-League " Pitcher Christy Mathewson 605
Illustrated by Frank Tenney Johnson, and with photographs and diagram. .
" A Spring Freshet." Picture. Drawn by Gertrude Kay 616
The Magic Bottles. Story. Adapted by Julius Robinson 617
Illustrated by Rachael Robinson Elmer.
The Townsend Twins — Camp Directors. Serial Story warren l. Eidred 622
Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
The Miracle. Verse Harriet H. Plerson 628
An Afternoon Party— The First Arrival. Picture. From a paint-
ing by J. A. Muenier 629
" We and Our Neighbors.". Verse Edith m. Russell 630
Tricked ! Verse May Aiken 630
Illustraled by the Author.
The Knights of the Golden Spur. Serial Story Rupert Sargent Holland 631
Illustrated by Reginald Birch.
A Spring Evening at the Beetleburg Amusement Park. Pic-
ture. Drawn by Harrison Cady 639
The Body-Guard. ( " Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects." ) George Lawrence Parker 640
May-Flowers. Verse Pauline Frances Camp 641
The Lady of the Lane. Serial Story Frederick Orin Bartlett 642
Illustrated by E. C. Caswell.
Waiting for the Shower to Pass. Picture. Drawn by Harriet
Repplier 648
Books and Beading Hildegarde Hawthorne 649
Illustrated.
For Very Little Folk :
What Happened to Betty and Polly. Story Nora Bennett 652
Illustrated from paintings by Percy Tarrant.
Nature and Science for Young Folks 654
Illustrated.
St. Nicholas League. With awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems,
Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles 662
Illustrated.
The Riddle-Box 671
Illustrated.
St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 24
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
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"SPRINGTIME." FROM A PAINTING BY SYDNEY KENDRICK.
ST. NICHOLAS
Vol. XXXIX
MAY, 1912
No. 7
DEBORAH'S CHANGE OF HEART
BY HELEN WARD BANKS
"Of course I can't have what the others have.
I 'm too homely," murmured Deborah. "But I
hate her when she talks like that."
The corners of her mouth drooped, and her
eyes filled with tears. There were so many
things Deborah hated : the bare, angular house
perched on the hillside, the plainness of her daily
living, the vision she saw reflected in the mirror,
— a small figure clothed in checked-brown gingham,
and a pale face with drooping mouth and hair
drawn tightly back into two braids. She could
have seen eyes blue as gentians if she had looked
long enough, but she always turned away after
the first glance.
"I don't love a thing but my garden," thought
Deborah. "It 's the only beautiful thing I have.
Maybe I love Aunty Jones a little scrap, and I
used to love Josie, because she 's so pretty. I
hate ugly things. I 'm going to hate people now,
too. I hate Josie when she talks like that."
Pretty Josie Fenton walked on down the hill
with Fred Dillon, unconscious that her words had
been overheard. "It 's too bad Debby is so
homely," she had said carelessly.
Deborah watched them out of sight. She would
have given all she owned to walk unconcernedly
down the street with Fred. He was so merry and
good-looking ; any girl would be glad to have him
for a friend. She picked up her trowel from the
Copyright, 1912, by The Century Co.
579
door-sill, and went slowly down the walk, her
back to the ugly, little house. She knelt among
her flowers, and laid -a caressing hand on the
nearest. The garden was gay now with foxglove
and sweet-william and columbine. Later it would
run riot with tiger-lilies and larkspur and holly-
hocks.
"I love you ! I love you !" she whispered pas-
sionately. "You 're the only thing I have to love.
Why do I have to be so ugly when I hate ugly
things with all my soul !"
She dug vigorously among her pansies for
some time. Presently she left the trowel sticking
in the earth, and settled back, her hands clasped
around her brown gingham knees. She was too
shy to have friends to talk to; she was used to
thinking things out for herself.
"I am ugly," she thought, "and Aunty Jones is
ugly, and the house is ugly. It must hurt every-
body to look at us all, for ugliness is hateful.
Why can't the world just be full of beauty?"
For a long time, she sat thinking about it, and
then she slowly went back to her pansies.
"I suppose really to make all the world beauti-
ful, every one ought to put a little beauty into it.
All I have is my garden, but that 's the prettiest
in town, and I can make it prettier even than it is.
It 's the only point I have to start from, but I '11
do it. I sha'n't pay any more attention to people,
All rights reserved.
580
DEBORAH'S CHANGE OF HEART
[May,
whether they 're pretty or not. I 'm going to
hate people, and hate ugly things all my life, and
just give myself up to putting beauty into the
world."
She rose to her feet and surveyed her garden
with a dreamy look. Her eyes showed the blue in
this direct glance, and the corners of her mouth
did not droop quite so pitifully. She had at least
an object in life.
"Yes," she said. "The larkspur is in just the
right place, and the hollyhocks will be lovely
against the fence. The phlox needs thinning, —
but it 's time to go and help Aunty Jones get
dinner now."
As she walked back toward the house, her eyes
traveled farther up the hill. A new house was
rising on the hilltop, and the newly graded earth
made more raw ugliness in the landscape.
"It 's a beautiful house," thought Deborah.
"It makes ours worse than ever by contrast. But
it will take forever to get the new look off the
place. How lovely rock-pinks would be on that
slope !"
A sudden thought struck her, so daring that it
sent the unaccustomed color over her face. Was
this a broader chance in her mission of bringing
beauty into the world? Could she take it out of
the confines of her own little garden and spread
it abroad?
"Oh, I could n't ! I 'd never dare !" she ex-
claimed. "I 've plenty of pinks, and they spread
like lightning, but I 'd never dare offer Mr.
Danvers any."
She could not get the thought out of her mind,
however. Every morning for a week, with a
quick-beating heart, she watched Mr. Danvers
walk by on his visit of inspection to his new
house. Then one day, before she knew she had
done it, she had opened the gate and was speak-
ing to him.
"Rock-pinks would be lovely on that slope,"
she gasped, her cheeks aflame. "I have lots of
them. Could I plant some out there?"
Mr. Danvers looked at her quizzically.
"You 're the girl with the pretty garden, are n't
you?" he said, "and we are neighbors. I 've tried
. to speak to you before, but you always looked the
other way. And you want to share with me?
That 's very kind of you."
"Don't you mind?" stammered Deborah.
"I shall be very grateful. I 'm not much at
flowers, and Mrs. Danvers won't be coming till
later, for I want things settled before she ar-
rives."
"And could I put a little bunch of pink phlox
by the barn ?" asked Deborah, eagerly. "The color
will be so pretty against the gray."
"It will be extremely pretty. Do whatever you
want to. How do you like my house?"
"I love to look at it," said Deborah, fervently.
The glow stayed on Deborah's face all through
dinner-time. She had never before spoken to a
stranger of her own accord, and it was exciting.
So was the permission to pour some of the beauty
of her own little garden-plot into her neighbor's
wide domain.
"I 'm really doing it !" she thought. "I 'm really
putting beauty into the world out of my own
garden !"
Then she stopped, struck by a sudden thought.
Was she going to be able to carry out perfectly
her plan of hating people as she spread beauty?
How could she hate Mr. Danvers while she was
giving him flowers out of her garden?
She did not have time to find an answer to her
question just then, for transplanting kept her
very busy. Josie Fenton's father was building
the house, and he watched Deborah with interest
as, day by day, she came over with a new peren-
nial clump to tuck into its fitting nook. Deborah
did not know he was watching her until he spoke
to her.
"Are you sharing up that white piny? It 's the
handsomest one in town."
"Do you think so ?" Deborah asked shyly. "I
did n't know any one ever noticed it."
"When it 's in bloom, I come down this way
just to look at it," Mr. Fenton said.
"Oh, do you?" Deborah asked, with a little
smile. She did not often smile. Then she added,
shyly, "Would you like a root, too?"
"Indeed I would, if it won't be robbing you."
"I 'd like to give it to you," Deborah answered,
and went home wondering if she could leave out
from her hating the people who loved flowers.
She dug so hard at her peony roots that before
she knew it she had kneed a hole straight through
her brown gingham frock. She showed it in dis-
may to Aunty Jones.
"Never mind," said the kind, old lady.
"It 's an old one. You go up to the store this after-
noon and get you some new gingham, and I '11
make you some new dresses. I 'm slack of work
just now; and I don't read as easy as I did once."
To the second brown gingham, clean and
starched, Deborah added a brown sailor hat over
hair tied tightly with a brown ribbon, and went
to the store. She had to wait a long time for
attention, for an automobile stood outside, and
the two ladies who owned it were inside buying
many things. Deborah sat patiently on a high
stool and waited. She looked a good deal at the
young lady who was matching embroidery silk,
for she was very pretty. Presently the young
1912.]
Library, Ujhv. of
DEBORAH'S CHANGE OF HEART0 '"
581
lady looked up and met the gaze. She smiled at
Deborah, and Deborah had shyly smiled back be-
fore she knew what she was doing.
"I 'm afraid we 're keeping you waiting," said
the older girl.
"I don't mind," answered Deborah. "I only
want some brown gingham, and I have lots of
time."
"If you 're going to buy yourself a dress," the
automobile girl said impulsively, "don't buy an-
you will remember what I tell you. Outside beauty
does n't always strike in, but inside beauty al-
ways strikes out in time, though young folk
are n't apt to think so. Will you remember that ?
Every girl wants to be pretty, and no girl can
carry a brave, honest, merry heart without hav-
ing it shine through, finally, to make people call
her beautiful."
"My mother is preaching you quite a sermon,"
laughed the young lady. "Now remember, too,
"'ROCK-PINKS WOULD BE LOVELY ON THAT SLOPE,
SHE GASPED.
other brown ; buy blue, to match your eyes. See,
there 's a lovely piece up there."
"Why," faltered Deborah, "I 've always had
brown."
"But that 's no reason you always should. The
blue costs the same, and pretty things are much
nicer to look at than ugly ones, are n't they?" said
her new friend, with a smile.
"Oh, yes !" exclaimed Deborah.
The young lady had the blue-and-white check
pulled down, and held it against Deborah's face.
Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes were bright as
she looked up.
"It 's very becoming," said the older lady, with
a satisfied nod. "I am going to make you a pres-
ent of a blue hair-ribbon to match, so that when
you look in the glass and find how nice you look,
what / tell you. Just wear blue always, and
never touch another inch of brown. Wait a
minute ! I have a hat out in the car that would
just suit you, I know, and it is n't my style at all.
Will you take it to remember my little sermon ?
My mother's ribbon will make you remember to
be good, and my hat will make you remember to
wear becoming clothes. They 're both very im-
portant."
The young lady dashed out to find the hat, and
dashed back to leave it on Deborah's lap. Then
she smiled once more, and she and her mother
buzzed off in the automobile, leaving Deborah's
head buzzing as fast as the car. She went home,
scarcely knowing who she was, the blue gingham
and the blue hair-ribbon done up in one parcel,
and the hat— such a pretty one!— in another.
582
DEBORAH'S CHANGE OF HEART
[May,
"I 'm getting all mixed up on my hating plan,"
she thought as she went. "I 've given Mr. Dan-
vers and Mr. Fenton flowers ; that 's all right.
IT S VERY BF.COM1NG, SAID THE OLDER LADY
But I like them both. And I like the pretty,
young lady and the hair-ribbon lady, too."
Aunty Jones chuckled comfortably when she
saw the gingham. "I declare, Debby ! I don't
know as my needle '11 take to anything but brown.
We might have thought of blue long ago, for it 's
a sight prettier. I '11 enjoy sewing on it."
"I could read to you while you sew, if you
like," ventured Deborah, quite thrilling with the
soft, clear shade of her new dress. Aunty Jones's
face brightened. "It would be a great treat.
Maybe you 'd read me my Bible piece first."
Deborah found the Bible marker at the account
of Jehoshaphat going to meet the Moabites. She
liked the swing of the old Jewish story. "He ap-
pointed singers unto the Lord
and that they should praise
the beauty of holiness," she
read finally, and stopped to
think what the words meant.
The beauty of holiness was
a thing she had not thought
about, but in a flash she saw
it was the only true beauty
in the world ; one must culti-
vate beautiful thoughts and
deeds as well as beautiful
flowers. That was what her
hair-ribbon lady had meant,
and that was why she found
it hard really to hate people.
Hating must always be ugly.
To bring beauty into the
world, one must bring love
into it. Oh, but it would be
much harder than transplant-
ing flowers and wearing blue
ribbons !
She finished the story, and
shyly kissed Aunty Jones
when she went to bed. The
old lady looked up lovingly.
"She is n't so awfully
ugly," thought Deborah, won-
deringly, as she went up-
stairs. "I guess she 's beau-
tiful inside, and it 's shining
through. I never noticed. I
wonder if I could n't make
her something soft and white
to wear at her neck. Then
she would look like the hair-
ribbon lady."
Even transplanting the
beauty of love was n't so
hard when Deborah really
tried it. Maybe the blue
frock helped along, for it was much more friendly
than the old brown ones. Deborah, before she
knew it, was having long flower discussions
with Mr. Fenton, and a good many of her roots
made their way into his garden. She found,
too, that Mr. Danvers's head painter was very
fond of milk, and she carried him a pitcherful
for his lunch every day. When she proposed
white muslin curtains for the sitting-room, Aunty
Jones was quite ready to agree, and she brought
out bags of carpet-rag pieces to start a new rug.
Deborah chose all the blue, and while the old
1912.]
DEBORAH'S CHANGE OF HEART
583
lady peacefully cut and sewed and rolled, her
niece read aloud all sorts of books that they both
enjoyed. For the first time, the house had a
gleam of home in it, because somebody had begun
to love it.
All the spare time Deborah spent in Mr. Dan-
vers's place. He had been away for a fortnight,
and came back to find new little bunches of grow-
ing things in all sorts of odd
places, and Deborah busy
with her seedling zinnias.
"You 're a born gardener,"
said Mr. Danvers, "but you
need more material for this
big place. Suppose you had
everything you wanted, what
would you put in over here ?"
"Oh," said Deborah, "I 've
shut my eyes and seen that
place over and over ; it 's full
of dahlias— yellow ones !"
Mr. Danvers nodded ap-
provingly. "Yes, that 's
good. I '11 get some. Now
how about over here?"
Before the morning was
over, Deborah and Mr. Dan-
vers had planned the entire
garden. Deborah forgot to
be dumb or bashful. She
chattered and laughed, and
glowed like any other happy,
human creature.
Presently Mr. Danvers
looked at his watch. "My !
how the time runs away. I
don't know when I 've en-
joyed a morning more. I
have a train to catch now.
and I sha'n't be back till next
month. Are you going to
oversee all this planting for
me? If you will, I '11 give
you a percentage for yourself
out of the dahlias and all the
other things. And now I tell
you what I want to do, Miss
Deborah. If you have to
look up at my place, I have
to look down at yours. You
have beautified my slopes; now I want to add
a little beauty to your house. I have lumber
here I 'm not going to use, and I want Fenton to
put a porch along the south side of your house.
Will you let him? It will take down the height
and will make a pretty little house of it. I want
to do it for my own sake, if you '11 let me."
Then he ran for his train, and Deborah did
not really know whether she had said "No, thank
you," or "Yes, thank you." But it must have
been yes, for the very next morning Mr. Fenton's
men began to saw and fit and hammer by the
little, dingy house.
Those were exciting days. Boxes of plants and
seeds arrived, and there was an experienced
IF YOU I.L INVITE ME IN, I LL CARRY THAT WATER-POT FOR YOU.
gardener at Mr. Danvers's who lived for nothing
but to plant beauty as Deborah ordered it. The
porch took on its outline and filled out to com-
pleteness. One day the painter whom Deborah
had fed with milk handed back the jug with a
very grave face.
"That there milk seems to have some magic in
584
DEBORAH'S CHANGE OF HEART
it," he said solemnly. "I declare if it ain't turned
into white paint; enough to cover your whole
house. If you '11 say the word, I '11 smear it over
odd times after hours; it '11 be a good-looking
little place when it gets whitened up."
"Have n't you got some green cheese around,
too?" laughed Mr. Fenton. "I was just thinking
I 've got some blinds piled under a lot of rubbish
over at the shop that would just fit these little
windows. I took 'em off an old house ten years
ago. I '11 hang 'em if you '11 daub 'em over with
green cheese."
"Oh !" cried Deborah. "Everybody is so good.
Could I really have blinds ? Not having them has
always made the house look like a person without
any eyebrows."
"It 's nothing to put those on," Mr. Fenton
said ; "and it 's all the house needs to make it
match the garden. My new flowers are doing
finely. Why don't you come over and see 'em?
Don't you ever come to see my girl ?"
"She would n't want me to," stammered De-
borah. She could not forget how homely Josie
thought her.
"Of course she 'd want you/' answered Mr.
Fenton. "I '11 send her down here to prove it."
"Oh, don't," Deborah wanted to protest, but
she did n't. Woufd she even have to love Josie
Fenton ?
The paint and the blinds were on before Josie
came. Debby tried to be cordial and entertain-
ing, but it was Josie who did most of the talking.
They discussed the weather and the garden, and
all the time Josie was casting little flying glances
at Deborah.
"Oh, Debby !" she exclaimed abruptly at last.
"Will you be mad? I 'm just crazy to fix your
hair. I never noticed before how thick and soft
it is. You could be stunning if you did it right.
Come on up-stairs and let me try."
Most unwillingly Deborah led the way to her
room and sat down before her dressing-table.
"Why, it 's gorgeous !" cried Josie, as Debby's
loosened hair flowed over her shoulders. "But
you must n't drag it back tight as if you were
stuffing a pincushion. It 's got lots of wave in it.
There, you must always roll it like that and keep
it soft— so. Now where 's your blue ribbon?
Why, Debby, you 're lovely! Just look!"
Confused, yet pleased, Deborah looked in the
mirror which had so often reflected her plain
face. But what did she see now? A warm flush
in the pale cheeks ; a happy smile on the discon-
tented lips ; a friendly look in the downcast eyes ;
softly waving hair instead of the scalp-tight locks
— and all this set off by a blue ribbon and a blue
dress that made her eyes look like forget-me-nots.
It was n't herself; it could n't be! She was so
ugly, and this girl was a joy to look at ! It was
too good to be true.
"Don't you ever dare do it any other way !"
said Josie. "There 's Father going home. I '11
catch a ride. Come and see me, Debby."
Debby felt almost too conscious to go down to
supper. She stole another glance at herself in
the mirror, and smiled at what she saw. "I 'm
not ugly," she thought with a throb of joy. "Peo-
ple won't have to hate looking at me. Some-
thing has shined through, but I don't know what
it is."
She went out to water her flowers after sup-
per, with the smile still in the corners of her
lips, the flush on her cheeks, and the brightness in
her eyes. When Fred Dillon walked by, instead
of turning her back, Deborah looked up and
smiled. It was a friendly smile, born of her new
sense of self-assurance.
"Hello, Debby !" the boy said. "If you '11 in-
vite me in, I '11 carry that water-pot for you. My,
what a dandy porch you 've got ! You '11 have to
have a house-warming for that, for sure !"
"So I can !" cried Deborah. "I '11 do it just as
soon as the moon is full."
"Then I 'm invited, am I?"
"Yes," said Debby, "only I can't let you pass
lemonade if you spill as much as you 're spilling
out of that watering-pot."
"They 're wet enough anyhow," said the boy.
"Let 's go sit on the porch and look at how much
good we 've done them."
Debby led the way to the porch, her heart beat-
ing with a new glad glow of life. It was all so
wonderful. Above her, Mr. Danvers's beautiful
house stood against the evening sky, and his
lawns sloped to her own pretty little home,
painted and porched and shuttered, worthy of the
garden in which it stood. Fred had come to see
her, as he called to see other girls, and she was
talking and laughing, and she was n't homely.
Life was full of joy, where a few months ago
there had been only heaviness and hopeless lone-
liness. And she loved everything and everybody.
"Loving is the biggest beauty in the world,"
Deborah thought. "The really ugly things are
just hating and hate fulness. I guess we can put
beauty anywhere if we have loving enough."
THE END.
OLD TIME MAY- DAT SONG
Adapted by ARTHUR GUITERMAN
0*^:
We 've been a-roving down the dale
Before the break o' day;
And now we lay before your door
A budding branch of May.
A branch of May that looks so gay
Before your door to stand;
'T is but a sprout, yet leaves no doubt
That Spring is in the land.
Awake, awake, my pretty maid,
Your latch is on the pin;
Awake from out your drowsy dream,
And take your May-bush in.
The whippoorwill she sings by night,
The meadow-lark by day ;
So fare you well, we must be gone,
We wish you a happy May !
«
Mi
.--.nS/V'S^ • ' Y,; ^■m":' ^H-^Mn^W ■■■'■■
^ THL MILITARY BAND
i^D-K Stevens
Among the Be-Ba-Boes whose fame
Has traveled wide and far,
Drum-Major Roland Roly
Was a celebrated star.
He had studied his profession
With a master of the Art,
And of all the known drum-majors,
He was quite a thing apart.
He wore a bearskin busby,
Had a baton made of gold.
Which he twirled in such a manner,
T was bewild'ring to behold.
He marched upon the Esplanade
Like troops engaged in drill,
And there he gave a daily
Exhibition of his skill.
586
THE MILITARY BAND
587
r?
But still he was n't happy,
For he wanted to expand
And be the real drum-major
Of a Military Band.
So he called his friends together
And procured for each a suit.
Together with a book which read :
"Instructions Hozv to Toot."
For forty weeks they practised,
Rarely stopping for a rest,
And ev'ry Be-Ba-Bo rehearsed
The tune that he liked best.
While standing on a barrel,
With his baton in his hand,
Drum-Major Roland Roly
Led his Military Band.
At last they felt quite qualified
To give a grand parade,
And show the latest manner
In which music should be played.
The public came by thousands,
(For, of course, the show was free,)
And they never heard such music,
As I think you will agree.
588
BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES
[May,
/V*~
^andtarade
%»
anA Jns
MilitatrB
For one played "Annie Laurie,"
And another ''Bonnie Doon,"
And one played "Turkey in the Straw"
Upon the big bassoon ;
Another one played "Money Musk,"
And one "The Last Request."
In fact, each played, as he 'd rehearsed,
The tune that he liked best.
Now, all that vast assembly,
From the wisest to the dunce.
Had never heard a band that played
So many tunes at once.
They cheered and loudly shouted
Till they shook the list'ning earth,
Because they felt that they, at last,
Had got their money's worth.
1912.]
THE MILITARY BAND
589
And still the Band marched on. with each,
Oblivious of the rest.
Performing on his own account
The tune that he liked best.
And now upon the scroll of Fame
These names forever stand :
Drum-Major Roland Roly
And his Military Band.
CROFTON CHUMS
BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
Author of " The Crimson Sweater," " Kingsford, Quarter," " Team-Mates," etc.
Chapter XIII
HAWTHORNE COMES TO CONQUER
The day of the Hawthorne game dawned cold
and gray, with a chill breeze out of the east.
Hawthorne, two hundred strong, took possession
of the village before noon, taxing the capacities
of the railroad restaurant and the various lunch-
rooms to the limit. At one, Gil and Poke set off
to the field.
"If you don't win, Poke Endicott," called Hope
from the porch, as the boys started down the
road, "I '11 never speak to you again !"
"After that threat," laughed Poke, "I shall
simply eat 'em alive, Hope !"
The rest of the household, Jim, Jeffrey, Hope,
Mrs. Hazard, and Mr. Hanks, started an hour
later. Mr. Hanks, having had foot-ball suddenly
thrust into his philosophy, displayed an amazing
interest and curiosity. "You see," he confided to
Mrs. Hazard, "I have never witnessed a game of
foot-ball. This may seem — er — strange to you,
madam, for my college was, I believe, very suc-
cessful at the game. The fact, however, is that
I never had time to attend the contests. I am
quite curious to see how the sport is indulged in.
It must, it would seem, be — er— quite interesting."
When the Sunnywood party arrived at the
field, Hawthorne, looking, in its black-and-orange,
like an army of young Princetonians, was already
warming up for the fray. Along- the ropes, across
the white-barred turf, Hawthorne's supporters
were singing and cheering. It was cold enough
for heavy clothing and rugs, and Hope snuggled
down comfortably between her mother and Mr.
Hanks on the grand stand. Beyond Mrs. Hazard
sat Jim, with Jeffrey beside him. The Crof-
ton side of the field was three and four deep with
spectators; and at ten minutes before the time
set for starting the game, two things happened
simultaneously : the Crofton team, brave in new
uniforms of crimson and gray, trotted onto the
field to the wild shouts of its supporters, and the
sun burst through the murk in a sudden blaze of
glory. Hope waved her banner.
"That," she cried ecstatically, "means we shall
win !"
Crofton took the field for practice, Gary, back
in his togs once more, racing down the gridiron
like a joyful colt. A moment later, Gil ran up
and called excitedly to Jim across the rope.
"Come on and be our linesman, Jim. You see,"
he continued, as Jim ducked under the barrier
and strode across the field with him, "you '11 be
nearer things, and can watch the game a heap
better. There 's your partner in crime over there
with the chain. Introduce yourself like a gentle-
man, shake hands, and welcome him to the fu-
neral. They 've got a pretty husky set of men,
have n't they? That 's Gould, the little chap
talking to Johnny. He 's the man we 've got to
watch to-day. There 's the whistle. Root for us,
Jim!"
Hawthorne spread herself over the west end of
the field to receive the kick-off, Duncan Sargent
patted the tee into shape, poised the ball, and
looked around him. "All ready, Hawthorne?
All ready, Crofton?" questioned the referee.
Both teams assented, the whistle blew, Sargent
sent the ball spinning down the field, and the
game was on.
Johnny had instructed his team to get the jump
on Hawthorne at the start, and it obeyed him.
From the first line-up, Poke Endicott tore off
eighteen yards outside of tackle, and Crofton be-
gan a rushing advance that took the ball to Haw-
thorne's fifteen-yard mark. Hawthorne stiffened
as the play neared the goal-line, and Arnold tried
a forward pass to Tearney, right end. This
failed, and the ball went to the orange-and-black.
But on the very next play, Hawthorne's left half
fumbled, and Benson, Crofton's full-back, dived
into the scramble and recovered the pigskin.
Crofton's machine started up again, and after
three rushes, Poke shot through and over the
goal-line for a well-earned touch-down. Sargent
kicked goal.
The crimson-and-gray flags waved madly, and
three hundred voices cheered and yelled. Even
Mrs. Hazard clapped her hands, and Mr. Hanks,
just beginning to understand the scheme of
things, beamed approvingly through his specta-
cles. As for Hope, why, Hope was already
breathless from screaming, and trembling with
excitement. That was the only scoring, and the
first period ended with the ball in Crofton's pos-
session on her rival's twenty-seven yards.
Hawthorne's chief mainstay was her quarter-
back, Gould, a remarkable all-around player. A
brainy general, a certain catcher of punts, a
brilliant runner either in a broken field or an
open, and a clever manipulator of the forward
CROFTON CHUMS
591
pass, Crofton held him in great respect. Haw-
thorne's team was, in a manner, built around
Gould, and in that lay whatever weakness it pos-
sessed. Johnny had coached his players to stop
Gould, knowing that, aside from his perform-
JIM TAKES HIS EXAMINATION ON THE FOOT-BALL FIELD. (SEE PAGE 594
ances, Hawthorne had very little to offer in the
matter of ground-gaining feats. And through-
out the first period, Gould failed to get away
with anything. Crofton watched him as a cat
watches a mouse, and every move of his was
smothered. Whenever he caught a punt in the
back field, Tearney and Gil were down on him,
to stand him on his plucky little head immediately.
The second period began with Crofton in high
feather. Benson and Smith, left half, each made
short gains, and then Arnold tried a forward
pass from Hawthorne's twenty-five-yard mark.
He threw too far, however, and the orange-and-
black received the ball on its
thirteen-yard line. Gould
kicked, and, thanks to two
holding penalties, Crofton
was forced back into its own
territory in the next few
minutes. Then Arnold's punt
went to Gould on his forty
yards. With the first real
flash of form he had shown,
the little quarter-back tore
off fifteen yards. From the
center of the field, and close
to the side-line, he made his
first successful forward pass,
a hard, low throw along the
edge of the field, to his right
end, who caught the ball
over his shoulder, and ran to
Crofton's thirty-four-yard
line. A try at the line netted
two yards. Then Gould again
hurled the pigskin, this time
selecting his left end for re-
ceiver, and sending a low
drive to him on Crofton's
twenty-five yards. For a mo-
ment, it looked as though
Hawthorne would score
there and then, for the run-
ner sprinted to Crofton's
eight-yard line before he
was pulled down from be-
hind. Across the field, Haw-
thorne was wild with joy,
and two hundred of her loyal
sons shouted and danced
with delight. Then Haw-
thorne tried one rush, and
lost a yard. Crofton was
now plainly over-anxious,
and when, on the next play,
Gould sent his right half-
back at the right wing on a
delayed pass, Tearney was drawn in, and the
yellow-and-black player simply romped across
the line for a touch-down. From this Haw-
thorne's right end kicked a goal from a difficult
angle, and the score was tied.
Then it seemed that Hawthorne had found her-
self. The orange-and-black took heart, and after
Crofton had kicked off again, Gould ran the ball
592
CROFTON CHUMS
[May,
back thirty yards, eluding half the Crofton team,
and placed it on her forty-five-yard line. Crof-
ton's defense was now severely tested. Gould
gave the ball to his backs, and twice Hawthorne
made first down by short line plunges. The vul-
nerable spot in Crofton's de-
fense was at left tackle,
where Parker, willing
though he was, lacked expe-
rience and weight. On her
twenty-five-yard line, Crof-
ton stiffened up, and Gould
tried a forward pass that
proved illegal. A plunge at
center gave the ball to Crof-
ton, and Arnold punted on
the first down. Gould caught
the ball, and was promptly
laid on his back by Gil. A
penalty for holding forced
Hawthorne back to her thirty
yards. Gould tried an end
run that gained but seven
yards, and then punted.
Crofton made three yards
through right tackle, and
then Arnold got off a beauti-
ful forward pass to Gil, and
the latter, by squirming and
crowding, finally reached
Hawthorne's twenty-yard
line. Two rushes failed to
gain much distance, and Ar-
nold dropped back to the
thirty-yard line, and, with
every watcher holding his
breath, drop-kicked the oval
over the cross-bar. It was
Crofton's turn to exult, and
exult she did, while from the
opposite side of the gridiron,
Hawthorne hurled defiance.
A moment later the first half
ended, the score 9 to 6; Crof-
ton ahead by three points.
Jim returned to his party
on the seats and squeezed
himself down beside Jeffrey, looking very serious.
"Is n't it just glorious?" cried Hope, her cheeks
crimson and her hair, loosened by the breeze,
fluttering about her face.
"Glorious?" laughed her brother. "Yes, it is!"
"Can we hold them, do you think?" asked Jef-
frey.
Jim shook his head. "I don't know. I heard
Johnny tell Duncan Sargent a minute ago that
he 'd give a hundred dollars if the game were
over. If Hawthorne pounded away at the left
side of our line, she could gain like anything.
Parker 's doing the best he can, but he can't
stop them." Then he turned to Mr. Hanks, and
asked him: "How do you like the game, sir?"
HE WAS OFF
WITH A CLEAR FIELD AHEAD!" (SEE PAGE 595.)
"Very much indeed. I — I find myself quite in-
terested. Hope has been instructing me in the
— er— fine points, but I fear she has found me a
very stupid pupil."
"Well, I don't think I can give you more than
a C," laughed Hope. "And Mama gets a D minus.
Awhile ago she wanted to know why the tall man
in the white sweater did n't play harder."
"Well, nobody told me he was the referee, or
whatever he is," declared Mrs. Hazard, smilingly.
1912]
CROFTON CHUMS
593
"Jim, I hope we just— just gobble them up this
half," said Hope.
"Gobble them up?" repeated Mr. Hanks. "Is
that— er— a foot-ball term, or do you use the
phrase metaphorically?"
"She means eat 'em alive, sir," laughed Jef-
frey.
"We won't do that," said Jim, with a shake of
his head. "All we can hope to do is hold them
where they are. Is n't Gil playing a peach of a
game? And Poke, too? Did you see him go
through for that touch-down? He was like a
human battering-ram !"
"How 's Gary doing ?" asked Jeffrey.
"Putting up a great game ; playing a heap bet-
ter than Sargent, I think. But I suppose that 's
natural enough. Sargent 's captain, and that
always puts a chap off his game, they say. If I
was that Hawthorne quarter, I 'd plug away at
Parker and Sargent, and I '11 bet I 'd make some
bully gains."
"They probably will this half," said Jeffrey.
"Their coach has probably seen just what you
have. Somebody ought to tell Gould, too, that
he is punting too low. He does n't give his ends
a chance to get down the field. We 've gained
every time on exchange of kicks."
At that moment a voice cried, "Hazard! Haz-
ard! Is Hazard here?"
Jim jumped to his feet and answered. A sub-
stitute player in a much begrimed uniform ran
up. "Johnny wants to see you at the gym," he
called. "Right away !"
"What the dickens does he want?" muttered
Jim. "Keep my seat for me, Jeff."
He found the locker-room in wild confusion.
Rubbers were busy with strains and bruises ;
twenty fellows were talking at once ; the air was
heavy with the fumes of alcohol and liniment.
Johnny was deep in conversation with captain
and manager.
"You wanted to see me?" asked Jim, pushing
his way through the crowd.
"Yes, I do ! Look here, Hazard, where do you
stand?"
"Stand?"
"Yes," replied Johnny, impatiently. "Is n't
there any way you can play this half?"
"I 'm afraid not," answered Jim. "Mr. Gordon
wired that I 'd have to take an exam before I
could play."
"You did n't take it?"
"No, sir. There was n't any way to take it
that I knew of."
Johnny looked at Sargent questioningly. "You
would n't risk it, would you?" he asked, in a low
voice. Sargent shook his head emphatically.
Vol. XXXIX.— 75.
"I 'd be afraid to. J. G. 's a tartar about that
sort of thing. Better try Needham."
"All right." Johnny nodded to Jim. "Sorry.
Thought maybe you could manage somehow to
help us out. Better not go against the faculty,
though."
"I 'm willing to risk it if you need me," re-
plied Jim, quietly.
"I won't have it," said Sargent, decisively.
"You 'd get fired as sure as fate, Hazard. Much
obliged, just the same."
"Time 's up !" called Johnny.
Jim walked back to the field despondently. If
they had given him any encouragement, he told
himself, he 'd have risked J. G.'s displeasure and
played. When he reached his seat, Jeffrey asked:
"What was it, Jim?"
"Nothing much. Johnny thought maybe I could
play in this half. They 're taking Parker out.
Needham 's going in. He will be twice as bad
as Parker, I guess."
"Did n't Johnny know?"
"About me? Yes, but he seemed to think I
might have taken an exam. I don't see how I
could have, do you?"
Jeffrey shook his head. "No, I don't." Jim
glanced along to find Mr. Hanks peering inter-
estedly through his spectacles.
"Do I understand, Jim," he asked, "that you
could play if you passed an examination?"
"Yes, sir,T suppose so. That 's what Mr. Gor-
don wired, you know."
"Do they— er— need you, do you think?"
"They seem to think so," answered Jim. "They
want a fellow to take Parker's place."
"Well— well— " Mr. Hanks's eyes snapped be-
hind the thick lenses of his glasses — "do you
think you could pass an examination now ?"
"Now!" exclaimed Jim. "Why— why— do you
mean—"
"I mean now!" repeated Mr. Hanks, crisply.
"Now and here !"
"Yes, sir!"
"Then I '11 examine you, and if you pass—"
"Jeff," cried Jim, as he jumped to his feet,
"run over and tell Johnny to find some one to
take my place on the line. Tell him I 'm taking
my exam ! Tell him to get me some togs, and
I '11 be ready to play in—" he stopped and looked
at Mr. Hanks.
"Fifteen minutes !" said the instructor.
Chapter XIV
JIM PASSES AN EXAMINATION
Hawthorne began to hammer the left side of
Crofton's line at the start. Gould hurled his backs
594
CROFTON CHUMS
[May,
time and again at Needham and Sargent. Gain
after gain was made, Needham proving no harder
to penetrate than Parker had been. Sargent was
a tougher proposition, but even he was weaken-
ing. The first ten minutes of the third quarter
was a rout for Crofton. From their forty yards
to Crofton's twenty-five, the Hawthorne players
swept, and then, just when success seemed within
their grasp, a fumble lost them the ball. Poke
reeled off twelve yards through the center of the
Hawthorne line, and Smith and Benson plugged
away for another down. Then Hawthorne held
stubbornly, and Arnold kicked. After that, Haw-
thorne came back again, slowly but surely, bang-
ing the left guard and tackle positions for gain
on gain, and now and then sending Gould on an
end run for the sake of variety. Both teams
were tiring now, and the playing was slower.
Smith was hurt, and a substitute went in for him.
With two minutes of the third period remaining,
the ball was down on Crofton's eighteen-yard
line, and the crimson-and-gray was almost in her
last ditch. Had Gould chosen to try a goal from
field there, he might have tied the score, but the
plucky little general was out for a victory and
insisted on a touch-down. He himself took the
ball for a plunge through left tackle, and got by
for three yards. Then a delayed pass went
wrong, and before another play could be brought
off, the whistle sounded.
At that minute, over behind a corner of the
Crofton grand stand, Mr. Hanks nodded his head
twice.
"You pass, Hazard," he said.
Five minutes later, Johnny had Jim by the arm,
and was leading him along the side-line.
"Wait till this play is over," he said. "Then
go in for Needham. Get the jump on those fel-
lows and break it up ! Understand ? Break it
up! You can do it; any one can with an ounce
of ginger. There you are ! Scoot !"
And Jim scooted !
"Left tackle, sir !" he cried to the umpire.
That official nodded. Needham, panting and
weak, yielded his head-gear and walked off to
receive his meed of cheering. Arnold thumped
Jim on the back ecstatically.
"Oh, look who 's here !" he yelled shrilly.
"Well, well, well ! Now let 's stop 'em, Crofton !"
"Look out for the left half on a cross-buck,"
whispered Sargent from between swollen lips.
"And get low, Hazard. We Ve got to get this,
you know; we 've got to get it !"
"All right," answered Jim, quietly, eying his
antagonist shrewdly. "Here 's where we put 'em
out of business."
"Hello, son," said the opposing tackle as the
lines set again. "How 'd they let you in? Watch
out now, I 'm coming through !"
But he did n't. Jim beat him by a fraction of
a second, and was pushing him back before he
knew what had happened. Sargent, having no
longer to play two positions, braced wonderfully.
In three plays Hawthorne discovered that the
left of her opponent's line was no longer a gate-
way. Learning that fact cost her the possession
of the ball, for she missed her distance by a half-
foot. Crofton hurled Poke at left guard, and
piled him through for four yards. Then came a
mix-up in the signals in which Smith's substitute
hit Hawthorne's line without the ball. Arnold
kicked, but his leg was getting tired, and Gould
got the oval twenty yards down the field. On
Crofton's forty-yard mark, Gould got off a short
forward pass that took the team over two white
lines. Then an end run netted nothing, and again
Gould kicked. Benson got under the ball, caught
it, dropped it, tried to recover it, and was bowled
aside by a Hawthorne forward, who snuggled the
pigskin beneath him on Crofton's twelve-yard
line. Two plunges netted nothing, and Gould fell
back for a kick from the twenty-eight-yard line.
Although half the Crofton team managed to
break through, and though Gil absolutely tipped
the ball with his fingers, the oval flew fair and
square across the bar, and Hawthorne had again
tied the score !
With only three minutes to play, the teams
took their places, and Sargent kicked off. Gil
and Tearhey again downed Gould in his tracks.
A try at a forward pass failed, and an on-side
kick went out at Crofton's forty-five yards. The
ball was brought in, and Arnold pegged at Haw-
thorne's center for twelve yards. A fumble by
Gil was recovered by a Hawthorne end, and
again the orange-and-black started for the Crof-
ton goal. But there was little time left now, and
along the side-lines it was agreed that the con-
test would end in a tie. When two minutes re-
mained and the ball was in Hawthorne's posses-
sion on her opponent's thirty-eight yards, after
two exchanges of punts, Gould dashed off around
Gil's end of the line, and, with good interference,
gained almost fifteen yards. Hawthorne took
heart at this, and her cheers boomed across the
field. A plunge at right tackle gave her five
more. Then the unexpected happened.
Gould dropped back into kicking position, but
when the ball went to him, he poised it, and
waited to find his end to make a forward pass.
Jim, hurling himself past his opponent, dodged
a back, and before Gould could get the ball away,
was upon him. Down went the little quarter, and
away bobbed the ball. An instant of wild scram-
1912.]
CROFTON CHUMS
595
bling, and then Jim was on his feet again, the
ball was scooped up into his arms, and he was
off with a clear field ahead !
After him came the pursuit, foe and friend
alike strung back along the gridiron. Past the
fifty-five-yard line, and still well ahead, Jim
edged in toward the middle of the field. Then
Gould, making what was his pluckiest effort of
all that long, hard-fought game, almost reached
him. But behind Gould was Gil, and Gil it was
who, just as the quarter-back's arms stretched
out to bring Jim to earth, threw himself in front
of the enemy. Over they went together, rolling
and kicking, and Jim, with his breath almost
gone, staggered and fell across the goal-line.
What if Andy LaGrange, called on to kick the
goal in place of Sargent, did miss it by yards
and yards ? The game was won ! For another
year the crimson-and-gray held the champion-
ship !
Crofton was still shouting, still waving, still
cavorting, when LaGrange missed that goal, and
still at it when, after two plays, the final whistle
sounded. Hope, standing on the seat, flourished
her flag wildly.
"Is n't it perfectly jimmy?" she cried, looking
down at Mr. Hanks and her mother.
Mr. Hanks, beaming with satisfaction through
his spectacles, assented. "It is. We— er— as you
would say, 'gobbled them up !' "
"Did n't we just? And did n't Jim do beauti-
fully, Mr. Hanks?"
Mr. Hanks nodded slowly. "Yes," he replied,
"your brother passed a very creditable, if some-
what hurried, examination."
THE END.
&%2*>^
A THOUGHTFUL LITTLE FRIEND: "COME ON IN, HIPPO ! THE WATER 'S FINE!"
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE
Chapter X
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
As I stood amid the young officers aboard the
Good Will, I felt much embarrassed, as my blush-
ing face must have shown, for one of them
stepped forward and addressed me most politely :
"You must excuse our manners, Mistress-
Mistress—"
"My name is Beatrice Travers," I said.
"And mine is plain Guy Vernon, at your ser-
vice," he returned. "These others are mostly
lords of one sort or another, and, as you are like
to be with us for some time, 't is fitting you should
know them." Whereupon, with much ceremony
and many low bows, he named them one after
another. Each in his turn doffed his hat to me,
and I courtesied the best I knew ; and though,
perhaps, there was a smile here and there among
them, they did not mock me, and behaved as
English gentlemen should to one who had come
among them, e'en though it was from a rebel
ship. 'T is fitting that I should say here that,
while I was on the Good Will, these young offi-
cers treated me with every kindness, and one, in-
deed, proved a friend in need.
Once more, after this introduction, they began
to ask me questions, but were again cut short by
the officer who had brought me aboard. He was
Lord Bedford, heir to one of the great dukedoms,
but 't was not on that account that his commands
were heeded.
" 'T is gloomy weather when Bedford 's in
charge," Mr. Vernon explained. "He is so mon-
strous earnest."
"One would think 't was a real war to see him
act the martinet," exclaimed another.
"And is it not a real war?" I asked in surprise,
at which they all laughed heartily.
"Nay, Mistress Travers," said Mr. Vernon,
smiling; "it hath all the words of a war, I grant
you, and there have been many declarations of
this or that; but what can a few colonists do
without an army, without a navy, and without a
leader? 'T is no war, but a lark; and I, for one,
hope they come early to their senses, for I have
visited among them and like their ways. When
all 's said and done, they 're Englishmen, like the
rest of us, and it 's far from pleasant to have to
kill your brothers because they have taken wry.
notions into their heads."
"Enough, Vernon," one of them called. "Stop
your talk of politics and your croaking that there
will be no war. Send it may last long enough to
gain promotion for some of us at least. Other-
wise these old topers of the quarter-deck will live
forever."
Then they all began to talk among themselves,
and divided into little groups, for 't was evident
that they would have to wait to satisfy their curi-
osity.
"Vernon," said Lord Bedford, "I will leave the
prisoner in your care, to be produced when Sir
John is ready to receive her." And with that he,
too, went off.
" 'T is a weighty charge," said Mr. Vernon,
seriously. "May I ask you, Mistress Prisoner, to
give me your word that you will not try to escape,
otherwise I fear I shall have to put you in irons."
"Am I really a prisoner?" I asked.
"You heard the earnest Bedford," Mr. Vernon
replied ; "but 't is not likely you can escape far
from the ship, and aboard here we are so
crowded, there is scarce room for a mouse to
hide. The truth is we 're no war-ship, but a
transport. 'T will be a comfort when we join the
fleet and get rid of these landlubbers."
With that, Mr. Vernon led me below to a large
cabin, and, after some trouble, I fancy, he found
me a sleeping place which, though but a cubby-
hole, was comfortable enough for one small maid.
I then asked to have my portmanteau, but that
was denied me until my interview with the great
Sir John should be over.
Of him I had some fear, for in our talk Mr.
Vernon dropped a hint now and then that the
commander was not all a gentleman should be;
that with his inferiors he was like to be a boor,
while he was servile to those above him.
It was nigh eleven o'clock when, at last, I was
summoned before the great man, and, as I went,
Mr. Vernon gave me a final word of caution.
"I wish, Mistress Beatrice, for the credit of the
navy, that you were going before another than
Sir John, but here 's a hint : don't seem to fear
him, or he will try to crush you. Take your cour-
age in your two hands and talk back to him. If,
by any chance, you have a relation with a title
hooked to his name, let it out early; 't will help.
Now go, and good luck to you."
It was with a beating heart that I entered the
cabin where a group of older officers stood about
the head of the table, at which was seated a
coarse, red-faced man, whom I rightly took to be
596
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
597
Sir John. His head was bent, but as I entered he
looked at me from under his brows and glared
angrily.
Lord Bedford was standing and was speaking
when I drew near.
"We saw the ship blown up, Sir John, and im-
mediately sent two boats, in one of which I went
myself. We picked up the maid here, and Lieu-
tenant Trelawney went on to investigate. He re-
ports that there was no sign of any one else, and
that, except for a little wreckage on the shore,
he found nothing. There was no evidence of any
one having landed."
"Do you mean to tell me they blew up the ship
with all hands?" growled Sir John, not looking at
Lord Bedford, but staring at me beneath his
brows.
"It seems likely," was the answer, "for the
boats were all at their davits except the one this
maid came in ; of that there is no doubt."
"A fool's tale !" Sir John snapped. "Hold, and
let me question the girl. Now, miss, the truth,
or 't will be the worse for you. Tell us how
came this accident to the Bouncing Betsey."
" 'T was not an accident," I answered, as calmly
as I could. " 'T was by design."
"How know you that?" he demanded.
"I heard the captain talk about it to Mr. Green,
the mate. He said he would send her to the bot-
tom with all hands before he would let you take
her."
"Did the men leave the ship before or after
you?" was his next question, and his eye had a
cunning look in it as if he thought to trap me.
"I saw none leave the ship before or after," I
replied.
"But 't is unbelievable !" cried Sir John, an-
grily. "The shore was scarce a mile away. They
could have escaped to the land."
"They feared the troops ashore," I put in vol-
untarily, for I knew that Captain Timmons
wished those on board the Good Will to believe
that all hands had gone down.
"So they knew that, did they?" said Sir John,
more to himself than to any one else. "I would
like to know how they found out"; then, seeming
to break into a sudden rage, he brought his fist
down on the table with a resounding thwack.
"I 11 not believe I 'm to be balked by a lot of
rascally rebels !" he shouted.
"But, Sir John," one of the officers put in
mildly, "it can scarce make any great difference.
The powder is lost to them, and if the men have
got ashore, which seems monstrous doubtful,
they will be captured within two hours of their
landing."
"But the powder is the smallest part of it !"
cried Sir John. "They carried aboard their ship
something that meant more than ten times the
powder." He rose from his chair and began
pacing the room, glowering fiercely all the while ;
and the others stood in silence, shifting from one
foot to another and seeming as uncomfortable
as I.
At last Sir John stopped and addressed Lord
Bedford.
"Was there aught else in the boat but this
girl?"
"There were some boxes and a portmanteau
evidently holding her belongings. They are on
deck awaiting your orders."
"Have them searched at once," he commanded,
"and bring me every bit of writing you can find.
Look sharp, now, for this is no paltry matter of a
few pounds of powder. 'T is not unlikely these
scoundrelly rebels might make a messenger of the
maid, thinking to trick us. Look to it, and bring
me every scrap of writing that is found."
As Lord Bedford hurried away to search the
boxes, my heart sank, for I knew, if no one else
in that room did, for what Sir John was looking.
It was, of course, the paper Captain Timmons
had been so much concerned about, and which, at
that moment, was hidden in the little book of
Moral Maxims in my portmanteau. Now, it
seemed to me that Sir John would surely find it,
and I trembled for fear of what was to come, but
I hid my anxiety and tried to look as indifferent
as I could, for I knew that he was searching my
face to see if, perchance, I might betray any
knowledge of what he had hinted at. I took my
courage in my two hands as Mr. Vernon had
bade me, and, for love of the cause of liberty
with which Captain Timmons had imbued me, I
determined to do my best to keep the secret; but
in my heart I was fearful.
While we waited, Sir John began to quiz me
again.
"Why were you on the ship at all?" he asked
abruptly.
"I was going to my relative in America," I an-
swered.
"And who is that ?" was his next question.
"Mr. John Travers, of Germantown," I re-
plied, and then, thinking of another hint Mr.
Vernon had given me, I added, "the Travers are
cousins to Lord Harborough and to Sir Horace
Travers of Kent."
I watched to see how he would receive this
news, and was glad to note that it had made an
impression, for he looked at me more closely than
before, and stopped in his walk up and down the
cabin.
"Is your relative the Lord Harborough who
598
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[May,
lately married with the daughter of His Grace
the Duke of Beaumont?" he said with a hint at a
sneer, but I could see that, although he was not
inclined to believe me, he was uncertain.
" 'T is the same," I replied ; "and it was be-
cause of the marriage that I am going to my
cousin, Mr. Travers."
"A rigmarole," Sir John shouted. "Think you
I believe such a tale from a waif picked up from
a rebel ship? Stuff! Is Harborough like to have
his cousins half over the world? I tell you
plainly, girl, I do not believe you."
His doubting made me very angry all in a min-
ute.
"Nevertheless it is true as is all else I have
told you," I retorted, and I could feel my face
flushing, which he noted as well, for his manner
became a little more civil.
"Who is this relative to whom you are going?"
he asked, after a moment's thought.
" 'T is Mr. Travers, of Germantown."
"What kind of a man is he?" was the next
question.
"I know but little of him except that he is an
old gentleman and is reputed well to do."
"Of Germantown," Sir John muttered, repeat-
ing my words. And then he looked about the
company in the cabin as if in search for some
one.
"Where is Mr. Vernon?" he demanded. A
messenger went out of the cabin hurriedly, and a
moment later entered again with Mr. Vernon,
who stepped up to Sir John, saluting in the naval
fashion.
"I have heard that you have lately visited in
the colonies, Mr. Vernon," Sir John began, "and
that you had acquaintance with many people in
Philadelphia. Did you by any chance ever come
up with a Mr. Travers, of Germantown?"
"Oh, yes," answered Mr. Vernon; "Jack Trav-
ers I knew very well, indeed."
"Is he, mayhap, a rebel ?" asked Sir John.
"I fear so, Sir John," answered Mr. Vernon.
" 'T is only to be expected from a hot-headed
young fellow with plenty of money."
"Young fellow?" demanded Sir John.
"Why, yes," said Mr. Vernon. "He came into
his majority but last year. I was at the supper,
and a good one it was, too."
But no one paid the slightest attention to the
last remark, for Sir John had turned on me furi-
ously.
"So, miss," he roared, "your old Mr. Travers
turns out to be a young, hot-headed rebel ! I did
well to doubt you, and I believe you have that for
which I am looking, in spite of your childish
ways and your seeming ignorance about it."
And then, as if to put a cap to all my woes,
Lord Bedford came in hurriedly and handed my
little book of Moral Maxims to Sir John, who
snatched it eagerly. But I covered my face with
my hands, for very shame that my word had
seemingly been proved false and that the paper
was like to be discovered.
When I had gained control of myself suffi-
ciently to take my hands from my face, I saw
Sir John again seated at the table with my book
before him.
He regarded it curiously for a moment or two,
taking particular interest in the worked cover, so
that my heart stood still, for fear he should dis-
cover the paper hidden therein. Then, to my
great relief, he picked it up and ruffled the leaves,
expecting, no doubt, that what he looked for
would fall out. Failing in this, he began to go
through it, leaf by leaf, but I noted that here and
there he stopped to read what had been written,
and, as he read, the scowl on his face grew deeper
and deeper.
All in the room watched him, I, you may be
sure, closest of all ; and when, at last, he came to
the end and shut the little volume with a bang,
I had all I could do to keep back an audible sigh
of relief.
Sir John glared at me, and then faced Lord
Bedford.
"Was there naught else?" he asked.
"Nay, Sir John," was the answer. "There was
no other writing, and we searched her boxes
diligently."
Once more the commander turned his attention
to me.
"So, cousin to Lord Harborough," he began,
with a sneer, "you are naught better than a rebel
spy. Why, there is enough treason in this book
of yours to hang a dozen men ! Take her away,
Bedford, and have an eye kept on her till we
come up with the rest of the fleet; then back to
England we will ship her, where I have no doubt
she will soon find other cousins a-plenty."
Lord Bedford nodded to Mr. Vernon, who
stepped forward to lead me away; but I was in a
panic at the thought of being sent back to Eng-
land, with the fear added that I should not be
able to deliver that paper after all. I knew not
what to do, but my desire was to have back my
property, so I stepped forward and held out my
hand.
"I want my book," I said, as resolutely as I
could. "The book that Granny gave me."
"Oh! you want your book, do you?" Sir John
mocked. "Well, get that whimsy out of your
head; I shall keep it. It will make interesting
reading for Admiral Howe when we join him."
1912.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
599
"Bift 't is mine, and you have no right to it !"
I burst out recklessly, for I was become fair des-
perate, and felt I must have the book, not alone
because of my fondness for it, but for what it
contained.
"Right! right!" shouted Sir John, as if he
scarce believed his ears; "you talk to me of
right ? Look you here, girl, 't is my right to clap
you in irons for a rebel wench, with a cock-and-
bull story of being cousin to Lord Harborough.
Don't prate to me of right, and be off with you."
" T is no Englishman, but a brute you are !" I
cried, and would have gone on but that Mr. Ver-
non, catching me by the shoulder, whirled me
round and gave me a little push toward the door.
"Hush," he whispered, "or you 're like to land
in the brig. Save your breath, for 't is not Sir
John who has the last word."
Chapter XI
I MAKE A FRIEND
Mr. Vernon led me on deck and found a place
for me to sit on one of the gun-carriages. He
tried his best to console me, but, at first, I would
not listen to him, being angered as never before
in my life, and at my wit's end what to do, for
I must have the book. Finally, seeing that I paid
not the slightest heed to him, he spoke of it.
"And how have I offended, Mistress Pris-
oner?" he asked, assuming a most humble pos-
ture.
"Was it not you who shamed me before them
all by saying that Mr. Travers was a young man,
when you know it is otherwise ?" I burst out.
"They all believe that I have not spoken the
truth, because you, forsooth, did not tell it."
"But Mr. Travers is a young man," he insisted
with a smile, and as I looked at his face I knew
that he was not lying, though it seemed impossi-
ble to believe.
"Are you sure?" I asked anxiously, for here
was another source of trouble for me.
"Oh, yes, I am quite sure," he answered, "and,
to speak plainly, Mistress Beatrice, it did seem a
trifle strange to me that you should be going out
to him, though / never doubted your word."
"But he has a father?" I pleaded.
"Nay, his father died a year or so ago, leaving
only John Travers, the son, who has just come of
age," replied Mr. Vernon, and from that I saw
how the mistake had happened.
Aunt Prudence had thought she had written to
old Mr. Travers, knowing nothing of a son, and,
the names being alike, the young man had an-
swered, never realizing that she was unaware of
his father's death. Here was a further compli-
cation. It might well be that an old man would
take in a girl when he expected a boy, but what
would a young man think of it? His letter to
Granny showed all too plainly. "I will take one
of the boys, but, as I have no wife, I cannot take
a maid."
"What shall I do !" I exclaimed, more to my-
self than to Mr. Vernon; but he answered quickly
and sympathetically, for he must have seen that
my distress was deep indeed.
"If you will tell me all about it," he said, in a
most kindly way, "mayhap I can help ; and, under
any circumstances, I promise no one else shall
know of it ; but if, perchance, you hold any rebel
secrets such as Sir John seems to suspect, keep
them. Tell but about yourself, Mistress Beatrice,
for you are n't a very big girl, after all, and you
do seem to have more than your share of trou-
ble."
So then and there, I told Mr. Vernon how I
had come to leave home, and about Mr. Van der
Heist shipping me off to a relative of whom we
knew very little ; but I said naught of the paper
hidden in the book of Maxims, for reasons which
any one will understand.
" 'T is easy to see how you have been mistaken
about Mr. Travers," he said, "and there is no
need to be downhearted about it. You '11 find
Admiral Howe a very different person from Sir
John, and with him will rest the decision, for,
whatever was aboard the Bouncing Betsey that
Sir John is seeking, it seems to be of such impor-
tance that a report is to be made to Lord Howe."
Now that was the first of many long talks I
had with Mr. Vernon.
That afternoon, a good wind sprang up. The
sailors set the sails, and we bore down the coast;
but the wind freshening constantly, the ship was
headed out to sea, and before long we lost sight
of land again.
That night a great storm came up, and we were
blown out of our course, so that it was near a
week before we made the rendezvous off New
York. In that time, I became quite friendly with
the younger officers, and was made much of
among them. Mr. Vernon, in particular, seemed
to have taken a liking to me, and it was from
him I learned what took place on the Good Will
after we saw her in the Thames. It seemed that
when Lord Howe's great fleet was preparing, the
Good Will had been sent to London to refit, and
that there had been general instructions to detain
all American vessels, but no special word about
the Bouncing Betsey.
Captain Timmons had fooled them all com-
pletely, except Bedford, who was the officer with
the trumpet. He had insisted upon stopping us,
600
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
but the others, certain that any vessel that mani-
fested such enthusiasm over one of His Majesty's
ships must be honest, had laughed at the idea that
she was an American. Moreover, they were anx-
ious to get to London without delay, for they
knew that they were soon to sail again, and
grudged the time necessary to investigate us.
Once in London, however, the news of what
we were reached them as soon as they came to
anchor, and so chagrined was the admiralty that
we had gotten clear, that the man who had then
been in command of the Good Will had been dis-
missed from the service, and Sir John put in his
place.
They all seemed to think that this was a great
pother to make over the escape of a trading ves-
sel ; but it had become evident that she carried
something of great importance, for the Good
Will was provisioned with all speed, and sent off
to capture her at any cost. They had guessed
that the Betsey would not sail to her accustomed
port, and this was borne out by the reports of
two ships that had sighted us (for the Good Will
had halted every vessel she met to get news of
us). So they had followed, scarce more than a
day behind, but we had had good luck until the
wind failed, and then the capture was certain.
"We should have boarded you that afternoon,"
said Mr. Vernon, "but 't is ever our witless way
to wait until the morrow, so we put it off, think-
ing we had you safe caught, and gave your Cap-
tain Timmons a chance to do — " he shrugged —
"I know not what !
"Sir John, I fancy, was none too pleased to
find his prize sunk and its crew dispersed,
whether drowned or not makes little odds. So,
young lady," he ended, "you are all he has to
show for his trouble, and he is like to make you
out something of importance to justify himself."
This, you may be sure, was far from pleasing
news to me, and Mr. Vernon, although he en-
couraged me to be brave and hope for the best,
felt near certain that, in the end, I would be sent
back to England, unless, by some chance or other,
they found what they were looking for, in which
case they might let me off, as having no further
interest.
Of Sir John I saw very little. He was too
great a man, or at least so thought himself, to be
at all intimate with his inferiors aboard the ship,
and contented himself with staying in his own
quarters, only coming up occasionally to pace the
quarter-deck, scowling at everything.
At dinner, however, he always sat at the head
of the long table, and I, placed among the
younger officers, at the foot, tried not to attract
his attention, for I knew I had made an enemy
of him and thought it best not to intrude my
presence. He, however, had not forgotten me,
and occasionally, usually at some pert sally of
mine which had brought peals of laughter from
the young officers, he would look down the table
and frown; but, as a rule, the gentlemen at the
head did not trouble about us at the foot, so I was
teased and spoiled by turns by the gay young
fellows, who were glad enough to have something
to amuse them.
Dinner was a very serious and ceremonious
affair on board the Good Will, the officers all ap-
pearing in full dress and standing at attention
until Sir John took his seat, so that it was indeed
imposing; and I put on my best fallals, feeling
very grown-up and important. It was, of course,
proper for me to leave the table with the sweets,
and I would make my courtesy to those near me,
many of whom would rise at my going and salute
me most gravely, although this I liked not, for it
always brought Sir John's scowl.
Chapter XII
ABOARD THE FLAG-SHIP
All this time, you may be sure, there was hardly
a moment when the question how to regain my
precious book of Maxims was not in my mind.
The more I heard, the more certain I became of
the value of the paper hidden therein, and the
more needful it became that I should recover it.
I appreciated that if the English had gone to
such trouble to get it as to send a ship of the line
after the Bouncing Betsey, then surely it must
be equally important to the colonies. Everything
that Mr. Vernon told me confirmed this, and,
moreover, I was sensible enough to know that Sir
John would not have paid so much attention to
me unless he believed that in some way I was get-
ting the better of him in a grave matter.
But, on second thought, I was not getting the
better of him by any means ; for, although he
knew it not, the paper was in his possession, and
at any time might be discovered. Also, I dared
not put too much stress upon its recovery, nor
continue making demands for it ; that would only
serve to excite suspicion, and they might go to
the length of cutting the book apart to find out
why I was so anxious to have it back. I spoke of
it to Mr. Vernon once or twice, explaining that
I had had it all my life, and treasured it on that
account. He cautioned me to be patient, ex-
pressing the belief that sooner or later it would
be returned; but he was by no means certain.
"You and that book are all they have to show
for an eight weeks' chase across the ocean," he
said; "and be sure they '11 make the most of it."
' HE BEGAN PACING THE ROOM,
Vol. XXXIX.— 76-77.
GLOWERING FIERCELY ALL THE WHILE.
601
(SEE PAGE 597.)
602
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[May,
So it was with a great deal of anxiety on my
own account, and also on account of the little
book, that the days passed while I waited the
ordeal that would come to me when I faced the
admiral of the fleet, toward which we were hur-
rying.
At length one beautiful morning, we sighted
land, which Mr. Vernon said was the Long Is-
land ; and soon afterward we entered a broad,
beautiful bay in which were all manner of ships
at anchor, for here lay the English fleet over
which Admiral Lord Howe had command. I
shall never forget what a wondrous sight it was.
There were many ships of the line, huge, stately
vessels with masts that seemed to reach into the
blue heavens, and peaceful enough they looked,
riding at anchor on the sparkling waters, in spite
of the guns showing through the ports. Flags
were a-flying everywhere, and boats of all sizes
were running from one ship to another, so that
the bay had a most busy look.
Aboard the Good Will there was much bustling
about. Everything had been made clean and
bright, the officers all had on their best uni-
forms, and the sailors, too, were dressed for the
occasion. The ship herself was bedecked from
stem to stern with flags, and a gay appearance
we must have presented, for many cheers came
to us as we sailed to our station. As the great
ship headed into the wind, the sailors manned
the yards and the salutes to the admiral boomed
out across the water. We came to rest amid the
echoes of the answering guns.
Immediately Sir John appeared on deck, clad
in a gorgeous uniform. A boat was put over the
side, and, in a twinkling, our commander was
being rowed to the flag-ship to make the report
that was to decide my fate.
I stood against the bulwarks looking across the
water, and watched him mount the ladder and
disappear, my heart heavy with the thought of
what was to come. I was near to weeping, for I
felt my courage ebbing away rapidly and despair
taking its place. As I stood there, Mr. Vernon
came and leaned on the rail beside me.
"Nay, be not so downhearted," he said, noting
the dismal look upon my face; "at worst it will
only be a return to England."
"And what could be worse?" I cried out. "No
one wants me there, and here I am treated like a
criminal. None believe what I say. I am bad-
gered and beset till I scarce know what I am
about. No one but a fool like Sir John would
treat a maid so."
"Nay, get that notion out of your small head,"
Mr'. -Vernon returned. "I '11 grant you he lacks
manners, especially to his inferiors; but he 's far
from being a fool, my lady. He is one of the
best officers in His Majesty's navy, and Lord
Howe thinks much of his opinion."
"In that case I am lost," I cried. "Sir John
will make it out that I am the worst rebel that
ever lived."
"Now you are running to the other extreme,"
said Mr. Vernon, with a smile. "Lord Howe is
no fool either, and, knowing all the circum-
stances, he is as able as another to put two and
two together. He will take Sir John's chagrin
and disappointment into consideration when he
listens to the tale. I know not how it will turn
out, but. the admiral can be counted on to deal
fairly by all, in so far as any human being is
able to do that."
"Do you think Lord Howe will want to see me
soon ?" I asked, for it is ever my desire to be
done with disagreeable tasks.
"I should expect them to send for you at any
minute," he answered, and then looked at me
very critically for a space, so that I wondered
what was in his mind.
"I hope you will know me the next time we
meet, sir," I said saucily, for his eyes searched
me up and down, and I felt embarrassed.
"Do not jest," he returned gravely, "I am
thinking of your good. Have you any other
gowns ?"
"Why, yes, to be sure," I answered, surprised
at such a question. "Must I put on my best to
visit Lord Howe?"
"Nay," he returned quickly, "that you must not
do ; but here is a suggestion I would take were I
in your place : put on the plainest dress you have,
and, if you can make yourself look younger, I
would advise it. How to do it I leave you to con-
trive, but the more childish you seem, the more
likely are you to get your way, for, you see, Sir
John will try to make you out older and more re-
sponsible than you are, and if you appear very
young, that will be a point in your favor at once."
I understood, and saw the wisdom of his sug-
gestion. Since I had been on the ship, it had
been my desire to seem older perhaps than I
really was ; for, though I think I was not a very
vain or silly girl, I confess I had spared no pains
to make myself appear grown up. It was but
natural, as I was the only child among many who
were older. To effect this I had always worn
my richest petticoats and ruffles and tuckers, and
dressed my hair as much like Aunt Prudence's as
I could manage, though, to be sure, I had never
dared to powder it. To make myself look younger
than I had appeared on the Good Will was not
difficult, for I had little calamanco smocks
a-plenty, for morning wear about the house. In
ICII2.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
603
one of these, with my hair in curls, I would look
child-like enough.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Vernon," I said to him.
"I see what you would he at, and shall make my-
self ready at once," and I was about to go to my
cabin when he spoke again.
"Oh, another thing, Mistress Beatrice !" he
cautioned. "Do not be saucy nor talk back.
The boat fairly danced over the water, and
when at length I was landed on the flag-ship, I
was taken at once below and ushered into a
splendid cabin. Here were seated many officers,
among whom was Sir John, and there was some
talking going forward, for those who were with
me held me at the entrance till an opportune mo-
ment should present itself for me to enter.
" MR. VERNON CAME AND LEANED ON THE RAIL BESIDE ME.
Tears are much more becoming to a child, under
some circumstances, and the admiral is not Sir
John."
"I understand," I replied, "but Sir John angers
me so that 't is all I can do to hold my tongue.
You know they call me Bee at home, not only be-
cause it 's short for Beatrice, but because Hal
says I have a little sting, which is my tongue ;
but I shall try to keep it in check," and with that
I ran off to change my dress.
I was scarce ready when the summons came,
and I went at once on deck to find a boat await-
ing to take me to the flag-ship.
Mr. Vernon saw me, and there was a twinkle
in his eye.
"T is capital!" he whispered as I passed him,
and I felt somewhat heartened as I went down
over the side and started off to learn my fate.
I knew at once which must be Lord Howe, for
he sat at the head of the table, and those about
him showed plainly that his was the deciding
voice in all matters.
Presently at a lull in the talk I was brought
forward, and the man in charge of me told them
who I was.
At once there was a craning of necks, as I
stood before them looking as demure as I could.
For a moment there was silence, and then, as if
at a signal, they all burst into a roar of laughter,
all, that is, save Sir John and Lord Howe, though
there was a smile about the latter's lips.
"And is this the blood-thirsty rebel you cap-
tured, Sir John ?" one gentleman called out, slap-
ping the table with his open hand. "Had we not
better have a company of marines to guard us
from so dangerous a foe, Your Lordship?"
604
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
"My faith, Sir John !" cried another, " 't is well
you had the Good Will. Any smaller ship would
scarce have done for so daring an enterprise."
I looked at Sir John, and his face was well-
nigh purple with rage.
" 'T is a trick !" he shouted above the laughter.
"The vixen is older than she looks."
"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" called Lord Howe
from the top of the table, and at once there was
quiet. "Come hither," he went on in the most
kindly voice, and I stepped forward at once and
stood beside him.
"How old are you, little maid?" he asked at
length, and I answered truthfully that I was
twelve.
"You scarce look so old," he replied, and then,
to Sir John, "but even twelve is no great age,
think you ?"
At that there was renewed merriment at Sir
John's expense, and, though I could have laughed
with joy to see him so baited, I kept a straight
face and lowered eyes.
"And now, my child," Lord Howe said, "sup-
pose you tell us how you came to be upon this
rebel ship."
Amid silence, for all about the table seemed
much interested in what I was saying, I told once
more the tale of my coming to the Americas and
the reasons for it.
That my story was believed, in the main at
least, was shown by the remarks that went
around the table in regard to Mr. Van der Heist's
behavior to me, and there were even several who
blamed Granny for having let me go at all.
But ere long, Sir John cut in harshly.
"Your Lordship," he said, "I submit that this
tale is scarce plausible. However, the point is
this: I am convinced that the maid is the bearer
of certain advices from those aboard the ship to
those on land. How important those advices are
we all know. I thought of course that she car-
ried a written message, but, having searched her
effects thoroughly and found nothing, I can only
conclude that they planned to convey the news
through her by word of mouth, not daring to
trust the written document with her."
"Nay, Your Lordship, I carry no such mes-
sage," I burst out ere they questioned me ; and
this was true, for I knew not at all what the pur-
port of the letter was, and it certainly was not
sent by word of mouth.
"And I respectfully submit," said one gentle-
man thoughtfully, "that they would hardly have
sent a messenger into the lion's mouth."
"The girl's truthfulness is already in question,"
Sir John cut in harshly. "By a lucky accident
we discovered that the 'old Mr. Travers' she
talked of was in fact a young man and a very
active rebel. Those who made up the tale for
her evidently did not count upon our having any
one on board who knew Mr. Travers, and
thought that her story would go unquestioned.
If, therefore, we have found her tale false in one
particular, what can we believe? Moreover, why
run the risk? My suggestion is that under any
circumstances we send her back to England with-
out allowing her any communication with those
on shore. She was found on a rebel ship, and I
have no doubt she is a rebel spy. Surely there is
enough treason in that book of hers to convict a
dozen."
"Aye, that book," said Lord Howe, musingly;
"I should like to see it."
Then for the first time in a week I saw my
little volume of Maxims, as one of Sir John's
aids handed it to the admiral.
( To be continued. )
SADIE SWUNG, SALLY SUNG
(" S-theiic Singsong1')
BY JAMES ROWE
Sally Simm saw Sadie Slee
Slowly, sadly swinging.
"She seems sorrowful," said she.
So she started singing.
Sadie smiled; soon swiftly swung;
Sitting straight, steered stiffly.
"So !" said Sally, "something sung
Scatters sunshine swiftly !"
BY CHRISTY MATHEWSON
ew of the boys who read this
article will become Big-
League pitchers. The ma-
jority of them probably have
no such ambition. But nearly
all boys play ball, and al-
most all boy players wish, at
some time, to be pitchers.
The first necessity for a
pitcher is to have con-
trol of the ball. That can't be emphasized too
strongly. A boy may be able to throw all the
curves imaginable, but if he can't put the ball
where he wants it, the batters keep walking
around the bases, and he will never win any ball
games. Therefore, I would, first of all, advise
my young readers to practise accuracy, until they
can place the ball just where they want to send it.
Let them pitch to another boy, with a barn or a
fence as a back-stop, and try to put one high,
over the inside of the plate, the next low over the
inside, and then high over the outside, and again
low over the outside; and keep up this practice
patiently until mastery of the control of the ball
is obtained. A boy will find that even if he can't
pitch a curve, but has good control, he will be
able to win many more ball games than if he has
a lot of benders, but no ability to put the ball
where he wants it.
There used to be a pitcher in the American
League named "Al" Orth, who was called the
"Curveless Wonder," because, it was said, he
could n't throw a curve ball. But he had almost
perfect control, and was able to pitch the ball
exactly where he thought it would be hardest for
the batter to hit it. The result was that, for sev-
eral years, he was one of the best pitchers in the
American League, with nothing but his control
to fall back upon. But he studied the weaknesses
of batters carefully — that is, he was constantly
on the alert to discover what sort of a ball each
batter could n't hit — and then he pitched in this
"groove," as it is called in base-ball.
When I was a boy about eight or nine years
old, I lived in Factoryville, Pennsylvania, a little
country town ; and I had a cousin, older than I,
who was always studying the theory of throwing.
I used to throw flat stones with him, and he
would show me (I suppose almost every boy
knows) that if a flat stone is started with the
flat surface parallel to the ground, it will always
turn over before it lands. That is, after it loses
its speed, and the air-cushion fails to support it,
the stone will turn over and drop down. The
harder it is thrown, the longer the air sustains
it, and the farther it will carry before it drops.
My cousin showed me, also, that, if the hand
were turned over, and the flat stone started with
the flat surface at an acute angle to the earth,
instead of parallel to it, the stone, instead of
dropping, would curve horizontally. I began to
practise this throw, and to make all sorts of ex-
periments with stones.
' I got to be a great stone thrower, and this
practice increased my throwing power, and taught
me something about curves. When I was nine
years old, I could throw a stone farther than any
of the boys who were my chums. Then I used to
go out in the woods and throw at squirrels and
blackbirds, and even sparrows ; and many a bag-
ful of game I got with stones. But, when aim-
ing at game, I always used round stones, as these
can be thrown more accurately.
All this time I was practising with stones,
mainly for amusement ; I had n't played any base-
ball, except "one old cat," with boys of my own
age. As a matter of fact, I did n't think much
about base-ball. Gradually, however, I became
605
606
HOW I BECAME A "BIG-LEAGUE" PITCHER
[May,
interested in it, and before long, I was allowed to
stand behind the catcher when the Factoryville
team was playing, and "shag" foul balls, or carry
the bats or the water. For I was born with the
base-ball instinct, and a '"mascot," or bat-boy, is
the role in which many a ball-player has made his
start.
This Factoryville nine was composed of grown
men, and it was not uncommon for small town
teams to wear whiskers in those days. Many of
the players, too, were really fat men. But, boy-
like, I felt very important in being "connected
with" this pretentious-looking club. My official
name was "second catcher," which entitled me to
no place in the batting order, but gave me a
chance at all foul balls and other misplaced hits
that none of the regular nine could reach. If I
happened to catch a wild foul ball, I would often
hear the spectators say, "That 's a pretty good
kid. He il make a ball-player some day." But if
I missed one, then it would be : "That kid 's pretty
bad. He '11 never be a ball-player !"
So, at the age of ten, I became a known factor
in the base-ball circles of Factoryville, and might
be said to have started on my career.
My next step was learning to throw a curve
with a base-ball, and one of the pitchers on the
town team undertook to show me how this was
done. He taught me to hold the ball for an out-
curve, and then to snap my wrist to attain the
desired result. After considerable practice, I
managed to curve the ball, but I never knew
where it was going. I used to get another young-
ster, a little younger than I, up against a barn,
with a big glove, and pitch to him for hours. At
last, I attained fair control over this curve, and
then I began practising what is known in the
Big Leagues as "the fast ball," but what most
boys call an "in-curve."
Every boy knows that, if he grips a ball tightly
and then throws it, with all his speed, off the ends
of his fingers, the ball will curve in toward a
right-handed batter slightly. This curve is easy
to accomplish, as it is merely a matter of speed
and letting the ball slide straight off the ends of
the fingers, — the most natural way to throw. It
does not require any snap of the wrist, but the
bend of the curve is naturally slight, and that is
the reason most Big Leaguers call it a fast ball,
and do not recognize it as a curve. At the age of
twelve, having no designs on the Big League, I
called it the "in-curve," and reckoned, with some
pride, that I could throw two curves — the "out"
and the "in."
I first began playing ball on a team when I was
twelve, but most of the other boys were older
than I, and, as pitcher was considered to be the
most important position, one of the older boys
always took the job without even giving me a
tryout. In fact, they thought that I was alto-
gether too good a pitcher for my age, because I
had considerable speed, and it was natural that
several of the older boys did n't want to see the
"kid" get along too fast. So they put me in
right field, on the theory that "anybody can play
right field."
I was n't much of a ball-player, outside of be-
ing a pitcher, and it must be confessed that I
never showed up brilliantly with that boy team.
I could catch flies only fairly well, could throw
hard and straight, and was pretty good at chasing
the balls that got away from me; but I was n't
a good hitter, and probably for just one reason.
I was what is known as a "cross-handed" bat-
ter,—and the experts will all tell you that this is
a cardinal sin in a batsman. It means that I
stood up to the plate as a right-handed batter
does, but put my left hand on top of my right,
which greatly reduces the chances of hitting the
ball when a man swings at it. All boys should
be careful to avoid this cross-handed method of
holding the bat. It is a great weakness. No one
that I played with knew enough to tell me to
turn around and bat left-handed, or that I was
probably, by nature, a left-handed hitter. I would
advise any boys who have this fault to try hitting
left-handed, and if this does not prove successful,
to practise keeping the right hand on top until
they are able to swing that way. No one will
ever be a good ball-player who hits in the clumsy,
cross-handed style.
I believe I got the habit from hoeing, and chop-
ping wood, and performing some of the other
chores that a country boy is called upon to do.
At all events, it "came natural," as the saying is,
for me to hold my left hand on top of my right
when doing any work of that kind. The result
was, that I batted as if I were hoeing potatoes,
and seldom obtained a hit. Once in a while, I
would connect with the ball, in my awkward,
cross-handed style, and it would always be a long
wallop, because I was a big, husky, country boy ;
but more often I ignominiously struck out. So it
will be seen that my real base-ball start was not
very auspicious.
But, even then, I would rather play base-ball
than eat, and that is the spirit all boys need who
expect to be good players. When I was fourteen
years old, the pitcher on the Factoryville team
was taken ill one day, just before a game with a
nine from a town a few miles away, and the con-
test was regarded as very important in both vil-
lages. Our second pitcher was away on a visit,
and so Factoryville was "up against it" for a
1912.]
HOW I BECAME A "BIG-LEAGUE" PITCHER
607
twirler. You must remember that all the players
on this team were grown men— several of them,
as I have said, with whiskers on their faces, and
roly-poly bodies— but I had always looked up
to them as idols. When the team could find no
"I PITCHED FOR TWO HOURS, WHILE THE CRITICS STOOD AROUND
pitcher, some one remarked to the captain : "That
Mathewson kid can pitch pretty well." But the
backers of the team and the other players were
skeptical, and, like men who come from Missouri,
"wanted to be shown." So they told me to come
down on the main street in Factoryville the next
morning, which was Saturday, the day of the
game — and take a "tryout." The captain was there.
"We want to see what you 've got," said he.
Most of the base-ball population of the town
gathered to see me get my tryout, and I pitched
for two hours, while the critics stood around and
watched me closely, to discover what I could do.
They sent their best batters up to face the curves
I was throwing, and I was
"putting everything that I
had on the ball." After a
full hour's dress rehearsal,
and when, at last, I "fanned"
out the captain of the team,
he came up, slapped me on
the back, and said :
"You '11 do. We want
you to pitch this after-
noon."
That, I am sure, was the
very proudest day of my
life. We had to drive ten
miles to the opponent's
town, and all the other
boys watched me leave with
the men. And you can im-
agine my pride while /
watched them, as they
stood on one foot and then
the other, nudging one an-
other and saying, " 'Husk'
is going to play with the
men !" They called me
"Husk" in those days.
It was a big jump up-
ward for me, and I would
hardly look at the other
youngsters as I climbed
into the carriage with the
captain. If the full truth
were told, however, I felt
almost "all in" after the
hard session I had been
through in the morning.
I can remember the score
of that game yet, probably
because it was such an im-
portant event in my life.
Our team gained the vic-
tory by the count of 19 to 17
— and largely byabitof good
luck that befell me. With my hands awkwardly
crossed on the bat, as usual, I just happened to
swing where the ball was coming once, when the
bases were full, and I knocked it over the left-
fielder's head. That lucky hit won the game ;
and that was really my start in base-ball.
This happened toward the end of the summer
season ; and in the fall I went to the Keystone
Academy, after having completed the public-
608
HOW I BECAME A "BIG- LEAGUE" PITCHER
[May,
ALL THE OTHER BOYS WATCHED ME LEAVE WITH THE MEN.
school course, there being no high school in Fac-
toryville at that time.
I played on the Keystone team during my first
year at the academy, but I was still young, and
they thought that it was up to some older boy to
pitch, so I covered second base. I was playing
ball with boys sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen
years old at this time, and I was only fourteen.
The next year, however, I was captain of the
team, and pitched (the natural result of being
elected captain, as any of my readers know who
may have led base-ball clubs !). While I was the
captain of this team, I hit upon a brilliant idea,
which really was n't original, but which the other
boys believed to be, and so it amounted to the
same thing. When we were playing a weak team,
I put some one else into the box to pitch, and
covered second base myself, to "strengthen the
in-field." We had a couple of boys on the team
who— like certain twirlers in every league — could
pitch, but could n't bat or play any other position.
I caught this idea from reading an article in a
newspaper about McGraw and the Baltimore
"Orioles." I worshiped him in those days, little
thinking that I should ever know him ; and it was
beyond my fondest dreams that I should ever play
ball for him.
I was still batting cross-handed on the Key-
stone team; but, in pitching, I had good control
over my out-curve, which was effective against
the other boys. During the vacation of that sum-
mer, I pitched for the Factoryville team, until it
disbanded in August, which left me no place to
play ball. And, remember, at that time I still would
rather play ball than eat, and, big, growing boy
that I was, I was decidedly fond of eating !
But one fine day, the captain of a team belong-
ing to a town about five miles away came to me
and asked if I would pitch for his nine.
"We '11 give you a dollar a game !" he said in
conclusion.
"What! How much?" I asked, in amazement,
because it was such fun for me to play ball, then,
that the idea of being paid for it struck me as
"finding money."
"A dollar a game," he repeated; "but you '11
have to walk over, or catch a ride on some
wagon."
There was no trolley route connecting the two
villages then. I told him he need n't mind how I
got there, but that I would certainly come.
So, for a time, I went regularly over to the
other town — Factoryville's old rival — and pitched
every Saturday ; and often I had to walk both
ways. But they always gave me my dollar, which
was a satisfactory consolation and a good anti-
dote for foot-weariness. By this time, I was far
ahead of boys of my own age, in pitching, and
was "showing them how to pitch," and rather re-
garding them as my inferiors, as any boy will,
after he has played with men.
In 1898, I was graduated from Keystone Acad-
1QI2.]
HOW I BECAME A "BIG-LEAGUE" PITCHER
609
emy, and as I had played foot-ball there, and was
a big, husky, country kid, I was regarded as a
desirable student by several colleges, and urged
by friends at the University of Pennsylvania and
by others at Lafayette College to enter one of
those institutions of learning. But I finally de-
cided to go to Bucknell.
During that summer, I happened to be in
Scranton, Pennsylvania, soon after school closed.
It looked a big city to me then, and the buildings
seemed to be very high. As I was only there for
the day, I made up my mind that I would make
sure of seeing the Y. M. C. A. team play ball,
which it did every Saturday. At the hour ap-
pointed for the game, I was sitting in the grand
stand munching peanuts, when it was suddenly
discovered that the Y. M. C. A. pitcher was miss-
ing, and they began to look around for some one
to twirl.
One of their players, it seems, had seen me
pitch in Factoryville, and, having recognized me
in the stand, he went up to the captain of the
team, and said : "There 's a kid up there who can
pitch."
"Where 's he from?" asked the captain.
"Factoryville," replied my friend.
"I don't think he '11 do," said the captain.
"Those small-town pitchers don't make good
when they stack up against real ball teams. But
I '11 remember him, and I may have to try him if
the regular pitcher does n't show up."
The regular pitcher did n't "show up," and the
result was that the two players came over to me,
some ten minutes later, where I was still munch-
ing peanuts in eager anticipation of the game,
and began a conversation in this wise :
"Can you pitch?" the captain asked me.
"A little," I replied.
"Want to work for us this afternoon?"
I was startled. Then, "Sure I do!" I exclaimed,
and promptly climbed down over the front of the
stand, leaving quite three cents' worth of peanuts
on the seat, which was no compliment to my natu-
ral country thrift, and indicated that I was ex-
cited. They handed me a uniform, very much
too big for me, the one that the regular pitcher
usually wore, and as I was putting it on in the
dressing-room, I began to wonder if the job would
be as much too large. When I came out and the
crowd got a look at me, everybody began to ask
who the big country boy was, with the misfit uni-
form.
But I "had something" that day, and struck
out fifteen men.
"You 're a pitcher !" said the captain to me
after the game, and he ordered a uniform made
to fit me, I was seventeen at that time, and was
still playing with teams whose members were all
much older than I. And that was the second op-
portunity to pitch that came to me through a
"break in the luck," as ball-players say.
At midsummer of that year, I went to Hones-
dale, Pennsylvania, where I was given twenty
dollars a month and my board, to pitch for the
team there. This seemed to me then a princely
salary, and I began to speak of "J. P. Morgan
and me."
In 1898, I matriculated at Bucknell, and played
foot-ball there. It was then a college of less than
two hundred male students, but the class of men
was generally high. The next summer I went
back to Honesdale, after having played on the
Bucknell base-ball team. And, in the middle of
the season, I was offered ninety dollars a month
to pitch in the New England League, a salary
which turned out to be only on paper, for the
Taunton club disbanded before I was ever paid,
and I received only an occasional five or ten dol-
lars, which promptly went to the landlady.
Honesdale proved to be an important mile-post
in my base-ball journey. Two things I learned
during my stay there, and both have been of great
value to me. First, and most momentous, I dis-
covered the rudiments of "the fadeaway" ; and,
second, I stopped batting cross-handed. This cor-
rection of my hitting style was the result of ridi-
cule. I was very large by this time— almost as
big as I am now— and when I came up to the bat,
with the wrong hand on top, and swung at the
ball, I looked awkward. The players on the other
teams and the spectators began to laugh at me
and "guy" me. "Look at that big kid trying to
hit the ball !" they would shout as I missed one.
I made up my mind to change my style, and I
started to try to hit with the right hand on top,
standing up to the plate right-handed. It was
very hard for me at first, and for a long time I
could n't hit nearly as well that way as I could
with my hands crossed ; but I stuck to the new
style, knowing that it would be a big improve-
ment in the end. I had batted the other way so
long that it was hard for me to correct it. That
is the reason I advise all boys with a tendency to
hold a bat with the wrong hand on top to change
immediately, because the longer they keep on hit-
ting in that way, the harder it will be for them to
adopt a new style. No one will ever be a hitter,
swinging in this awkward manner, because the
hands cannot guide the bat accurately. Since I
changed my batting form, I have developed into
a fair-hitting pitcher.
In Honesdale, there was a left-handed pitcher
named Williams who could throw an out-curve to
a right-handed batter. Now the natural curve
610
HOW I BECAME A "BIG-LEAGUE" PITCHER
[May,
for a left-handed pitcher is the in-curve to a
right-handed batter, and Williams simply exhib-
ited this curve as a sort of "freak" delivery, in
practice, over which he had no control. He
showed the ball to me, and told me how he threw
it, and I began to wonder why a right-handed
pitcher could n't master this delivery, thus getting
an in-curve to a right-handed batter on a slow
ball, which surely seemed desirable. Williams
pitched this ball with the same motion that he
used in throwing his in-curve, but turned his
hand over and snapped his wrist as he let the
ball go. He could never tell where it was going
to break, and therefore it was of no use to him in
a game. He once played a few games in one of
the Big Leagues, but lasted only a short time.
He did n't have enough control over this freak
ball to make it deceptive, and, as far as the rest
of his curves were concerned, he was only a
mediocre pitcher.
But it was here that I learned the rudiments of
the fadeaway, and I began to practise them with
great diligence, recognizing the value of the
curve. I also started to pitch drop balls while I
was in Honesdale, and mixed these up with my
fast one and the "old roundhouse curve." I only
used the drop when the situation was serious, as
that was my very best, and a surprise for all the
batters. Few pitchers in that set, indeed, had a
drop ball.
The part of the summer with the Taunton team
apparently did me little good, beyond teaching
me the style of base-ball played in the New Eng-
land League, and proving to me that there is
sometimes a great difference between the salary
named in a contract and that received. As a
matter of fact, however, that portion of a season
spent in the New England League was going to
have a great influence on my future, although I
could not foresee it at the time.
I returned to Bucknell in the fall, where I
played full-back on the foot-ball team; and, oddly
enough, I was much better known as a foot-ball
player at this time than as an exponent of base-
ball. Probably this was because I developed some
ability as a drop-kicker, and, at college, foot-ball
was considered decidedly the more important
sport. Moreover, I received poor support on the
college base-ball team ; and no pitcher can win
games when his men don't field well behind him,
or when they refuse to bat in any runs.
In the fall of 1899, the Bucknell foot-ball team
went down to Philadelphia to play the University
of Pennsylvania eleven, and this proved to be one
of the most important trips that I ever took.
While our players were waiting around the hotel
in the morning, a man named John Smith, known
in base-ball circles as "Phenom John" Smith,
came around to see me. He was an old pitcher,
and had picked up the name of "Phenomenal
(shortened to "Phenom") John" in his palmy
days in the box. He had been the manager of
the Portland club in the New England League
during the previous season, and had seen me
pitch with the Taunton nine.
"Mathewson," he said to me, "I 'm going to
Norfolk in the Virgina League, to manage the
club next season, and I '11 give you a steady job
at eighty dollars a month. I know that your con-
tract called for ninety dollars last season, but you
will surely get this money, as the club has sub-
stantial backing."
I signed the contract then and there. The col-
leges were n't as strict about their men playing
summer ball at that time. Now I would advise a
boy who has exceptional ability as a ball-player,
to sign no contracts, and to take no money for
playing, until he has finished college. Then, if he
cares to go into professional base-ball, all right.
"I 'm going out to see you play foot-ball this
afternoon," said Smith, as he put the contract in
his pocket.
I was lucky that day, and kicked two field goals
against Pennsylvania, which was considered to be
a great showing for a team from a small college,
in an early season game, regarded almost as a
practice contest. Field goals counted more then —
five points each — and there were few men in the
country who were good drop-kickers. Hudson,
the Carlisle Indian, was about the only other of
my time. Those two field goals helped to temper
our defeat, and we lost by about 20 to 10, I think.
When I got back to the hotel, "Phenom John" was
there again.
"You played a great game this afternoon," he
said to me, "and, because I liked the way in which
you kicked those two field goals, I 'm going to
make your salary ninety dollars instead of eighty
dollars."
He took the contract, already signed, out of his
pocket, and raised my pay ten dollars a month
before I had ever pitched a ball for him ! That
contract is framed in Norfolk now, or rather it
was when I last visited the city with the "Giants"
on a spring-training trip. The old figures remain,
with the erasure of the eighty and the correction
of ninety just as "Phenom John" made them with
his fountain-pen.
As you will easily believe, I went back to Buck-
nell very much pleased with myself, with two
field goals to my credit in foot-ball, and in my
pocket a contract to play base-ball for ninety dol-
lars a month.
The rest of my Minor League record is brief.
1912.]
HOW I BECAME A "BIG-LEAGUE" PITCHER
611
I went to Norfolk the next summer, and won
twenty-one games, out of twenty-three, for the
team. And on a certain day in the midsummer of
'I PROMPTLY CLIMBED DOWN OVER THE FRONT OF THE STAND
(SEE PAGE 609.)
1900, "Phenom John" Smith came up to me, smil-
ing in the friendliest way.
"Matty," he began, "I 've never regretted chang-
ing that contract after it was signed. You have
played good ball for me, and now I have a chance
to sell you to either the New York National
League club or the Philadelphia club. Which
team would you rather be with ?"
This came to me as a great surprise, the oppor-
tunity to "break into the Big League" — the dream
of my life. Only one year before, I had stood
outside the players' gate at the Polo Grounds, on
my way to Taunton, and had
lingered to watch Amos
Rusie, the great pitcher of
the Giants, make his exit, so
that I could see what he
looked like in his street
clothes, and also contribute
a little hero-worship in the
way of cheers. Now I was
going to be a member of a
Big-League club myself !
"I '11 let you know in a
couple of days," I told Smith,
in reply to his question about
my choice of the two clubs.
Then I began to study the
list of pitchers with each
team. The Giants were a
vastly different organization
then from that of to-day, and
were usually found near the
bottom of the list toward the
end of the season. But they
were in need of pitchers, and
so I decided that, if I went
with New York, I, a young-
ster, would have a better
chance to pitch regularly.
They had n't much to lose
by making a thorough trial
of me, and they might give
me an opportunity to work,
was the way I reasoned it
out.
"I 'd like to go to New
York," I told Smith; and,
needless to say, I have never
regretted my decision.
That is how I became a
Big-League pitcher, in the
middle of the summer of
1900, at the age. of nineteen
years. George Davis was
the manager of the New
York club at the time, and
the first thing he did when I reported for duty
was to summon me for morning practice.
"Now," he said, "I 'm going to order all our
fellows to go up to the bat, and I want you to
throw everything you 've got."
He started off himself, and I was nervous
enough, facing the manager of a Big-League
team for my tryout. I shot over my fast one
first, and I had a lot of speed in those days.
612
HOW I BECAME A "BIG-LEAGUE" PITCHER
[May,
"That 's a pretty good fast ball you 've got,
there," declared Davis. "Now let 's have a look
at your curve."
I threw him the "old roundhouse" out-curve, my
From photograph by J'aul Thompson.
AT THE FINISH OF THE "FADEAWAY."
pride and joy which, as the newspapers said, had
been "standing them on their heads" in the Minor
League. He stepped up into it, and drove the
ball over the head of the man playing center field
and beyond the old ropes.
So was an idol shattered, and my favorite
curve wrecked !
"No," he said, "that 'old roundhouse curve' ain't
any good in this company. You can see that
start to break, all the way from the pitcher's box.
A man with paralysis in both arms could get him-
self set in time to hit that one. Have n't you got
a drop ball ?"
"Yes," I answered ; "but I don't use it much."
"Well, let 's have a look at it," he said.
I threw him my drop ball, and he said that it
was a pretty fair curve.
"Now that 's what we call a curve ball in the
Big League," declared Davis. "As for that other
big one you just threw me, — forget it ! Got any-
thing else?"
"I 've a sort of a freak ball that I never use in
a game," I replied, brimful of ambition.
"Well, let 's see it."
Then I threw him my fadeaway, although it
had n't been named at the time. He missed it by
more than a foot (I was lucky enough to get it
over the plate!). I shall never forget how Da-
vis's eyes bulged !
"What 's that ball?" he asked.
"That 's one I picked up, but never use," I an-
swered. '"It 's a kind of a freak ball."
"Can you control it?"
"Not very well."
"Try it again !" he ordered. I did, and got it
over the plate once more. He missed the ball.
"That 's a good one ! That 's all right !" he de-
clared enthusiastically. "It 's a slow in-curve to
a right-handed batter. A change of pace with a
curve ball. A regular fallaway or fadeaway.
That 's a good ball !"
And there, in morning practice, at the Polo
Grounds in 1900, the "fadeaway" was born, and
christened by George Davis. He called some left-
handers to bat against it. Nearly all of them
missed it, and were loud in their praise of the
ball.
"Now," said Davis, in the club-house after the
practice, "I 'm not going to pitch you much, and
I want you to practise on that fadeaway ball of
yours, and get so that you can control it. It 's
going to be a valuable curve."
So, every morning I was out at the grounds,
trying my fadeaway, and always aiming to get
control of it — absolute, sure precision. I worked
hours at a time on it, and then Davis would try
me out against batters to see how it was coming
along. He did n't give me a chance in a regular
game until toward the end of the season, when he
put me into a contest that had already been lost
by some other pitcher who had been taken out.
But, the next spring, just before the opening
game of the season of 1901, Davis came to me
and said :
"Matty, I want you to pitch to-morrow."
This command was a big and sudden surprise
to me. I went home and to bed about nine o'clock,
so as to be feeling primed for the important con-
test. And the next day it rained ! Again I went
to bed early, and once more it rained ! I kept on
going to bed early for three or four nights, and
the rain continued for as many days. But I
1912.]
HOW I BECAME A "BIG-LEAGUE" PITCHER
613
finally outlasted the rain, and pitched the opening
game, and won it. Then I worked along regu-
larly in my turn, and did n't lose a game until
Memorial Day. And that brought me up to be a
regular Big-League pitcher.
Many persons have asked me how I throw the
fadeaway. The explanation is simple : when the
out-curve is thrown, the ball is allowed to slip off
the end of the thumb with a spinning motion that
causes it to bend away from a right-handed bat-
ter. The hand is held up. Now, if the wrist were
turned over and the hand held down, so that the
ball would slip off the thumb with a twisting mo-
tion, but, because the wrist was reversed, would
leave the hand with the thumb toward the body
instead of away from it, I figured that an in-
curve to right-handed batters would result. That
is how the fadeaway is pitched. The hand is
turned over until the palm is toward the ground
instead of toward the sky, as when the out-curve
is thrown, and the ball is permitted to twist off
the thumb with a peculiar snap of the wrist. The
ball is gripped in the same way as for an out-
curve.
Two things make it a difficult ball to pitch, and
the two things, likewise, make it hard to hit.
First of all, the hand is turned in an unnatural
position to control, or throw,
a ball when the palm is to-
ward the ground. Try to
throw a ball with the hand
held this way, and you will
find it very difficult. Next,
that peculiar snap to the
wrist must be attained. The
wrist is snapped away from
the body instead of toward
it, as in the throwing of an
out-curve, and it is an un-
natural motion to make. The
secret of the curve really
lies in this snap of the wrist.
Many times I have tried
to teach other pitchers in the
Big League — even men on
opposing clubs — how to
throw this ball ; but none have
ever mastered it. Ames, of
the Giants, can get it once in
a while, and Drucke oftener,
but it is a ball which requires
a great deal of practice. It
is a hard ball to control, and
unlimited patience must be used. If anv boy
desires to try it, let him practise for control first,
and then try to make the curve bigger. Be sure
to turn the hand over with the palm toward the
ground, and throw the ball by snapping the wrist
away from the body, which will send it spinning
slowly up to the batter. It comes up "dead," and
then drops and curves in.
In conclusion, as at the beginning, I want to
emphasize the value of control for young pitch-
ers. Let a boy practise control, always, before
he starts to learn curves ; for again let me assure
him he will win many more games if he can throw
the ball where he wants to and has n't a curve,
than if he has a big curve but can't control the
ball. Another thing that a young pitcher must be
careful about is the way in which he holds the
ball. When I went to Norfolk to pitch, I was
wrapping my fingers around the ball when I was
going to throw a curve, so that it was evident to
the batter what was coming. "Phenom John"
Smith came to me one day and said : "Matty,
you '11 have to cut that out. You telegraph to the
batter by the way in which you wrap your fingers
around the ball every time you are going to throw
a curve. It won't do in this League."
I began to practise holding the ball in the same
way for each kind of delivery, and then adjusting
my fingers as I made the motion to let the ball go
from my hand. Boys should practise this, also,
as it is fatal to wrap the fingers around the ball
^Pgp4~. vw^^pr—
From photograph copyright by Paul Thompson.
A FAST ONE.
in such a way that a batter can see when a curve
is coming. A pitcher should cover the ball up
with his glove when facing the batter, anyhow.
I always hold the ball in the same way for
614
HOW I BECAME A "BIG-LEAGUE" PITCHER
[May,
every curve, that is, with my whole hand around
it, and not with two or three fingers wrapped on
"ON THE FIRING-LINE.
it. For a change of pace, I hold it loosely so that
the ball can be thrown with the same motion as
for a fast one. Sometimes, for a drop, I hold my
fingers on the seam, to get more purchase on it.
Many persons have asked me about the "moist,"
or "spit," ball. I seldom use it, because I think it
is hard on a pitcher's arm, and
difficult for the catcher to handle
and for the players to field. It has
many disadvantages. Occasionally,
I used to try one on "Hans" Wag-
ner, the great batter of the Pitts-
burg club, because it was generally
believed that he did n't care for a
moist ball ; but this, too, is only one
of the many "theories" of base-
ball. He can hit a moist ball as
well as any other kind ! and I have
stopped pitching it altogether now.
The only reason that I ever used
it was to "mix 'em up." Next to
control, that is the whole secret of
Big-League pitching — "mixing 'em
up." It means inducing a batter to
believe that another kind of a ball is
coming from the one that is really
to be delivered, and thus prevent-
ing him from "getting set" to hit
it. That is what gives the fade-
away its value. I pitch it with the
same motion as a fast ball, but it
comes up to the plate slowly. The
result is that the batter is led to be-
lieve a fast one is coming, and sets
himself to swing at a speedy shoot.
The slow ball floats up, drops, and
he has finished his swing before it
gets to the plate. I often pitch the
fadeaway right after a fast ball ;
and, as for reports that I can't con-
trol it, I use it right along when I
have three balls and two strikes on
a batter, which is the tightest situ-
ation a pitcher has to face. For it
is a ball that will usually be hit
slowly, on the ground to the in-
fielders, if the batter hits it at all.
Its value, as I have said, lies in the
surprise that it brings to a batter
when he is expecting something-
else.
I have often been asked, if it is
such a difficult ball to hit, why I
don't use it all the time. The an-
swer is that such a course would
make it easy to bat, and, besides, it
is a ball which strains and tires
the arm of the pitcher, if thrown continuously.
Finally, I want to say that "Phenom John"
Smith did a great deal toward developing me as a
pitcher. He pointed out my weaknesses as he
1912.]
HOW I BECAME A "BIG- LEAGUE" PITCHER
615
By permission of the American Sports Publishing Co., New York.
MATHEWSON'S FADEAWAY BALL.
"A. How the ball is grasped for start of the 'fadeaway.'
" B. The ball is held lightly with the forefingers and thumb, and a slow twist is given to it. It sails up to the plate as dead as a brick, and,
when mixed in with a speedy straight or in-ball, often causes the batter to strike at it before it reaches him. It is a ' teaser ' for the third strike.
" C. The ball leaving the hand as it gets the final twist of the wrist for the ' fadeaway.' "
saw them, and gave me a great deal of valuable
advice. If any of my readers expect to play Big-
League ball, let them find some friendly "Phenom
John" Smith, and get his advice. There are scores
of old ball-players ever ready to help an ambi-
tious youngster, and they are the best-natured
men in the world. And once more — as I said at
the beginning — remember that control is the thing
in pitching ! No man was ever a Big Leaguer
for long' without it.
"A SPRING FRESHET." DRAWN BY GERTRUDE KAY.
616
Long years ago, in the far-off days, be-
fore the scream of the steam-engine and
the rush of the motor had made the lit-
tle people called fairies shy of showing themselves, a poor
farmer named Andrew Strong rented a few acres of barren
ground in the neighborhood of the ancient city of Chester.
Andrew had a wife and family, and they all did what they could to try
and make a living. But as none of his children were old enough to help
him in his work, and as all his poor wife could do was to milk their one
cow, carry the eggs to market, and mind the children, that was but little.
The ground was poor, too, and yielded but a scanty and stubborn crop, so,
work as hard as they could, they had much difficulty in paying their rent.
Things got worse and worse, and, at last, a bad year came, in which every-
thing seemed to go wrong. Their little crop of oats, that had cost .poor An-
drew such labor and care to grow, was spoiled. Two quarters of rent were
due, too, and Andrew found he had not enough even to pay half of it. "Mar-
gery," said he, sorrowfully, to his wife, "whatever are we to do now?"
His poor wife, who starved and pinched that her children might have enough,
and who, in spite of her heavy heart, kept a smiling face, said cheerfully:
"Well, Andrew, we must sell the cow, that 's all; and as Thursday is fair day,
you must go to-morrow, that the poor beast may have a rest before the fair, so that you may get a good
price for her."
Seeing tears in his wife's eyes, he exclaimed: "Margery, dear heart, you always look on the bright
side of things, and I believe you are right, after all, so I won't be sorry that we have to sell the cow,
and I '11 go to-morrow with her."
So off he went with the cow next morning, his wife charging him not to sell her except for the best
price he could possibly get.
It was an early June morning, clear and bright, and the fresh foliage, the dancing stream, and the
sweet songs of a thousand birds dispelled the gloom in poor Andrew's heart, and made him hope again.
By and by, he came to the top of a hill — "Bottle Hill," as it is called now, but that was not the name
of it, then — and just as he stood watching a lark falling, with sweet melody, from the sky, he suddenly
became aware of a little man standing beside him. Rather startled, as he had seen nobody about a
minute before, Andrew turned round and wished him "Good-morrow." "Good morning," said the
stranger, who had a queer little squeak in his voice, like a rusty hinge. From his size, Andrew ex-
pected to see the chubby face of a boy, but, instead, he saw an old, wrinkled, yellow face, for all the
world like a shriveled apple, and two little, restless, red eyes. The little man had a sharp nose, and
-long white hair, too, and Andrew did not greatly like the dwarf's company, and he drove his cow some-
what faster. But the little old man kept up with him, not walking like other men, but gliding over the
rough ground like a shadow, without noise or effort. Andrew's heart trembled within him, and he
wished that he did not have to mind the cow, so that he might run away. In the midst of his fears,
Vol. XXXIX.— 78. . 6i7
618
THE MAGIC BOTTLES
[May,
however, he was again addressed by his fellow-
traveler, with, "Where are you going with the
cow, honest man?"
"To Chester fair," said Andrew, trembling at
the shrill and piercing tones of the voice.
"And to sell her?" asked the stranger.
"To be sure I am."
"Will you sell her to me?"
Andrew started. He was afraid to have any-
thing to do with the little man, and he was more
afraid to say no.
"What will you give for her?" at last said he.
"I tell you what, I '11 give you this bottle," said
the dwarf, pulling a bottle from under his coat.
Andrew looked at him and the bottle, and, in
spite of his terror, he
could not help bursting
into a laugh.
"Laugh if you will,"
said the dwarf, "but I tell
you this bottle is better
for you than all the money
you will get for the cow
at the fair; aye, than a
thousand times as much."
Andrew laughed again.
"Do you think," said he,
"I am such a fool as to
give my good cow for a
bottle — and an empty one,
too? No, no, not I."
"You had better give
me the cow and take the
bottle— you '11 not be sorry
for it."
"Why, what would Mar-
gery say? I 'd never hear
the end of it; and how
would I pay the rent, and
what would we all do
without a farthing of
money?"
"I tell you this bottle is
better for you than money :
take it, and give me the
cow. I ask you for the last time, Andrew Strong."
Andrew started. "How does he know my
name?" thought he.
The stranger proceeded : "Andrew, I know you,
and have a regard for you ; therefore do as I
warn you, or you may be sorry for it. How do
you know but that there will be many cattle at
the fair, or you will get a bad price, or, maybe,
you might be robbed when you are coming home ?
—but what more need I say to you when you are
determined to throw away your luck !"
"Oh, no ! I would not throw away my luck,
sir," said Andrew. "And if I were sure the
bottle was as good as you say, though I always
liked a full bottle better than an empty one, I 'd
give you the cow."
"Never mind," said the dwarf, hastily, "but let
me have the cow ; take the bottle, and when you
go home, do exactly what I direct."
Still Andrew hesitated.
"Well, then, good-by to you; I can stay no
longer. Once more, take it, and be rich; refuse
it, and beg for your life, and see your wife and
children dying for want. That 's what will hap-
pen to you, Andrew Strong!" said the little man.
"Maybe 't is true," said Andrew, still hesitating.
He did not know what to do; he could hardly
ANDREW SUDDENLY BECAME AWARE OF A LITTLE MAN STANDING BESIDE HIM.
help believing the dwarf, and, at length, in a fit
of desperation, he seized the bottle. "Take the
cow," said he, "and if you are playing me false,
the curse of the poor will be on you !"
"I care neither for your curses nor your bless-
ings, but I have spoken the truth, and that you
will find to-night, if you do what I tell you."
"And what 's that?"
"When you go home, never mind if your wife
is angry, but keep quiet yourself and make her
sweep the room clean, set the table in the middle
of the room, and spread a clean cloth over it;
1912.]
THE MAGIC BOTTLES
619
then put the bottle on the ground, saying these
words: 'Bottle, bottle, do your duty,' and you will
see what will happen."
"And is this all?" said Andrew.
"No more," said the stranger. "Farewell, An-
drew Strong— you are a rich man."
"Heaven grant it," said he, as the dwarf moved
after the cow, and Andrew retraced the road
toward his farm; but when he turned his head to
look after the strange little man, both cow and
dwarf had disappeared.
His head in a whirl, he went homeward, mut-
tering prayers and holding fast the bottle.
"Whatever would I do if it broke?" thought he.
"Ah, but I '11 take care of that." So putting it
into his bosom he hurried on, anxious to prove
his bottle, and doubtful of the reception he
should meet with from his wife. Balancing his
fears with his hopes, his anxieties with his ex-
pectations, he reached home in the evening, to the
surprise of Margery, who was sitting over the
fire in the big chimney.
"What, Andrew, are you back already ! Surely
you did not go all the way to Chester. Where is
the cow?— Did you sell her?— How much money
did you get for her?— What news have you?—
Tell me all about it !"
"Stop, Margery ! If you '11 give me time, I '11
tell you everything. If you want to know where
the cow is, that 's more than I can tell you, for a
dwarf— I mean a stranger— went off with her."
"Oh, then you sold her; and where 's the
money?"
"Wait, Margery, and I '11 tell you all about it."
"But what is that bottle under your waistcoat?"
said his wife, spying its neck sticking out.
"Be quiet now, till I tell you," and putting the
bottle on the table, with a rather uneasy expres-
sion, he said : "That 's what I got for the cow."
His poor wife was thunderstruck.
"Is that all ! And what good is that ? Oh, I
never thought you could do such a thing ! What
will we do for the rent? And what will the poor
children do for something to eat?" And the
poor woman began to cry.
"Come, come, Margery dear," said Andrew,
"can't you hearken to reason ? Did n't I tell you
how the little old man, or whatsomever he was,
met me— no, he did not meet me, but was there
beside me— on the hill, and how he made me sell
the cow, and told me the bottle was the only
thing for me—"
"Yes, indeed, the only thing for you, you
foolish man !" said his wife, seizing the bottle to
hurl it into the fire. But he caught it, and quietly
(for he remembered the dwarf's advice) loosened
his wife's grasp and placed the bottle again in his
bosom. Poor Margery sat down, crying, while
Andrew told her his story. His wife could not
help believing him, especially as she had almost
as much faith in fairies as her husband had. So
she got up without saying a word and began to
sweep the floor with a bunch of heath ; then she
tidied up everything, and spread the clean cloth
on the table (for she had only one), and Andrew,
placing the bottle on the ground, said, "Bottle,
bottle, do your duty !"
"Look, look, Mammy !" said his chubby eldest
son, a boy about five years old, "look here ! look
there!" and he sprang to his mother's side, as
two tiny little fellows rose like light from the
bottle, and in an instant covered the table with
plates and dishes of silver and gold, full of the
choicest food that was ever seen, and when all
was done, went into the bottle again. Andrew
and his wife looked at it all with much astonish-
ment; they had never seen such plates and dishes
before, and did not think they could ever admire
them enough ; the very sight of them almost took
away their appetites ; but, at length, Margery
said : "Come and sit down, Andrew, and try and
eat a bit : surely you ought to be hungry after
such a good day's work."
"So after all the old man told me the truth
about the bottle," said Andrew, in great delight.
They all made a hearty meal. After they had fin-
ished, they waited awhile to see if the two little
fairies would carry away the plates and dishes
again ; but no one came. So they went to bed,
not, indeed, to sleep, but to settle about selling
all the fine things they did not want, so as to buy
all they did want. Andrew went to Chester and
sold his plate, and bought a horse and cart, and
lots of fine things for his wife and children and
himself.
They did all they could to keep the bottle a
secret, but, at last, their landlord found it out.
For, noticing how fine Andrew's wife and chil-
dren had now become, and the many handsome
things they had in their house, he came to An-
drew one day, and asked him where he got all his
money from— "surely not from the farm !" He
bothered and bothered so much that, at last, An-
drew told him of the bottle. His landlord offered
him a great deal of money for it, but Andrew
would not give it, till, at last, the landlord offered
to give him all his farm forever ; and Andrew,
who was very rich, thinking he would never want
any more money, gave him the bottle. But An-
drew was mistaken. He and his family spent
money as if there was no end of it ; and to make
the story short, they became poorer and poorer,
till at last they had nothing left but one cow, as
before, and Andrew drove her before him to sell
620
THE MAGIC BOTTLES
[May,
at Chester fair, anxiously hoping to meet the
little old man and get another bottle. Just as he
had reached the summit of the hill, and was gaz-
ing for a moment on the fair valley which lay at
his feet in all its early morning beauty, he was
"And good-by to you, sir," said Andrew, as he
turned homeward; "and good luck to this hill; it
wants a name, and it ought to be called 'Bottle
Hill,' I think. Good-by, sir, good-by."
So he walked back as fast as he could, never
HV>thcie( Kobioson Elrofcr-t
"TWO TINY LITTLE FELLOWS ROSE LIKE LIGHT FROM THE BOTTLE."
startled and rejoiced by the same well-known
voice, "Well, Andrew Strong, I told you you
would be a rich man."
"Indeed I was, sir, sure enough, but I am not
rich now. But, sir, have you another bottle, for
I want it now as much as I did long ago ; so if
you have it, here is the cow for it."
"And here is the bottle," said the little old
man, smiling, and with a queer look in his little
red eyes, "you know what to do with it."
"Oh, then I do, indeed."
"Well, farewell forever, Andrew Strong."
looking after the dwarf and the cow, so anxious
was he to bring home the bottle. Well, he ar-
rived with it safely enough, and called out in
great glee as soon as he saw his wife, "Oh, Mar-
gery dear, sure enough I 've another bottle !"
"Bless us all, have you? Then you 're a lucky
man, Andrew; that 's what you are !"
In an instant she had put everything right, and
Andrew, looking at his bottle, 'exultingly cried
out, "Bottle, bottle, do your duty."
In a twinkling, two great stout men with big
cudgels issued from the bottle (I do not know
1912.]
THE MAGIC BOTTLES
621
"Give it down to him, give it down to him, be-
fore we are all killed !" roared out the landlord.
Andrew put the old bottle into his bosom; in
jumped the two men into the new bottle, and he
carried both the bottles home. I need not
lengthen my story by telling how he got richer
than ever, how his son married his landlord's
only daughter, how he and his wife died when
they were very old, and how some of their ser-
vants, fighting for the possession of the bottles,
broke them both. But still the hill keeps the name
how they found room in it), and belabored poor
Andrew and his wife and the children till they
lay on the floor roaring for mercy, when in they
went again.
Andrew, as soon as he had sufficiently recov-
ered, got up slowly and looked about him ; he
thought and thought, and at last he lifted up his
wife and children ; and leaving them to recover
as best they might, he took the bottle under his
coat, and went to his landlord, who was giving a
great feast to his friends. Andrew got a servant
to tell him he wanted to
speak to him, and at last he
came out.
"Well, Strong, what do
you want now ?"
"Nothing, sir, only I have
another bottle."
"Ah ha ! Is it as good as
the first?"
"See for yourself; if you
like, I will show it to you
before all the ladies and
gentlemen."
"Come along then." So
saying, he brought Andrew
into the great hall, where
he saw his old bottle stand-
ing high up on a shelf.
"Perhaps," thought he to
himself, "I may have you
again by and by."
"Now," said his landlord,
with a smile of anticipation,
"show us your bottle." An-
drew set it on the floor, and
uttered the words. In a
moment, the landlord was
tumbled on the floor, ladies
and gentlemen, servants,
and all were running and
roaring, and sprawling, and
kicking, and shrieking.
Plates, cups, and dishes
were knocked about in
every direction, until the
landlord gasped out, "Stop
those two monsters, An-
drew Strong, I say, or I '11 have you hanged !" of "Bottle Hill," and so it will be always to the
"They never shall stop," said Andrew, "till you end of the world; and so it ought, for it is a
make me a gift of my own bottle up there." strange story.
'THE LANDLORD GASPED OUT, 'STOP THOSE TWO MONSTERS,
ANDREW STRONG!'"
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
BY WARREN L. ELDRED
Chapter VI
THE JOYS OF CAMP LIFE
Doctor Halsey stepped forward and removed
his hat, as the lady turned toward him inquiringly.
"I trust you will pardon me for stopping you,"
he began, "but we are strangers here, and want
to find the nearest neighbor who can supply us
with food. We reached our camp about an hour
ago, expecting our provisions would be there, but
we don't find them. Our cupboard is in worse
condition than that of old Mother Hubbard."
"Oh, I 'm so sorry !" was the compassionate
reply. "Now, let me see ! What can I do for you ?
Why, yes ! We have plenty of bread and meat in
the house— and milk and tea. So we can give you
an informal luncheon. I cannot promise you very
much, but in an emergency like this, it will be
better than nothing."
"Indeed, yes !" exclaimed the doctor, grate-
fully. "It is very kind of you to suggest it, but I
dislike to trouble you."
"Don't speak of it," was the prompt reply. "It
really is no trouble" ; adding, with a smile, "but I
will drive on and get things ready. You will find
our landing about half a mile up the lake, the
next one to yours. Or, if you come by land, look
on the left side of the road for a mail-box with
my name on it, Mrs. Elizabeth Spencer."
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Spencer," Doctor
Halsey responded. "I hope some day we may have
an opportunity of repaying your great kindness."
Mrs. Spencer nodded pleasantly and started the
horses. "Come up and sing for me sometimes,
and we '11 call the account settled," she said.
They went back to the bungalow, and removed
the marks of recent travel as well as their re-
sources permitted. Then they started for what
Lefty called "the palace of Lady Bountiful."
It was nearly a mile by the road, but finally
they found Mrs. Spencer's home— a pretty, white
cottage with green blinds.
Upon the shady porch, shielded from the sun by
awnings and climbing vines, sat the girl who had
been in the carriage, and three others.
A sudden shyness seized the boys, and they felt
a strange reluctance to advance. Then one of the
girls disappeared within the house, and in a min-
ute Mrs. Spencer came out to welcome them.
"I know you will be willing to take things just
as you find them," she said half jestingly. "I 'm
only sorry that I can do so little for you."
As she talked, she had led them into the dining-
room. The lunch was all ready, and it seemed to
the hungry boys as if they never had tasted any-
thing quite as good.
Mrs. Spencer proved a kind and gracious host-
ess. Before the boys left the cottage, they felt
as if they had known her a long while. The meal
being over, Doctor Halsey excused the boys and
himself, reminding their hostess how much work
awaited them. With many heartfelt expressions
of gratitude, they prepared to depart.
"Mrs. Spencer, can you tell us where to find
Mr. Samuelson?" Tom inquired. "He was to
cart our stuff over from the railroad station at
North Rutland, and I want to hunt him up and
see what 's become of it."
Mrs. Spencer hesitated. "You 'd better not go
there— yet," she said finally. "You can inquire
at the North Rutland freight office, and find out
whether your goods were delivered, but I
would n't let any one know, if I were you, that
I 'd had any dealings with Mr. Samuelson."
The boys looked surprised, so she added, by
way of partial explanation, "This will seem like
very strange advice, no doubt, but I assure you
that it is the best I can give. I earnestly hope we
all may understand the matter clearly before the
summer passes."
Wondering, yet not caring to question further,
the party left their kind friend and walked back
to Beaver Camp, discussing with eager curiosity
the strange affair partially revealed to them by
Mrs. Spencer's guarded warning. They had not
yet settled upon any definite plan of action when
they turned into the camp road.
All at once Eliot stopped short and stared
about. "It looks as if some one had been drag-
ging a big box or something else large and heavy
through those bushes," he said, pointing toward
the left. "See how the ground is scraped and
torn up. Suppose we investigate."
They plunged into the underbrush, and within
ten yards found a trunk. Walter Cornwall set
up a shout of joy, and eagerly inspected his prop-
erty to see if it had been damaged in transit.
Farther in among the trees and bushes was the
ice-cream freezer, packed full of smaller articles.
Scattered about were boxes, barrels, trunks, and
bundles. Apparently everything was there except
the cots, Jack's trunk, and the smaller one belong-
ing to Cousin Willie, who had brought two in order
to carry what his mother considered necessaries.
621
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
623
"Well, I wish whoever dumped this stuff out
here in the wilderness would kindly tell us how
to get it back," muttered Tom, who, nevertheless,
was vastly relieved to know that so much of their
equipment had arrived. "I don't see how we 're
going to drag it up to the bungalow."
"Hold on a minute," Eliot said thoughtfully,
seating himself on a box; "it looks to me as if
this stuff had been left up at the bungalow all
right. -Whoever stowed it away locked the door
and put the keys outside under the mat. Some-
body came along, read the sign, opened the door,
dragged out all the truck, and dumped it here.
Must have used a wheelbarrow or a stone-boat."
"All of which is very interesting, but what 's
it got to do with getting our house furnishings
back under the ancestral roof?" Ed interrupted.
"My idea is to see if that stone-boat is n't
around somewhere, load as many of our boxes
and barrels on it as we can manage, and then
drag it to the bungalow," Eliot went on. Luckily
it was soon discovered, overturned on the ground,
among some bushes. Then the tedious, back-
breaking process of transferring all the equip-
ment to the bungalow was undertaken.
Although twilight lingered long for their ac-
commodation, it was dark before they finished.
While the boys still busied themselves unpack-
ing the things, Doctor Halsey fried some bacon
over the camp-fire, and made "camp flapjacks,"
which the boys pronounced "great." The evening
meal was informal in the extreme, the bungalow
being in a state of wild disorder, but the boys
made the best of the situation.
Nine o'clock came— half-past— and, at last, the
doctor said : "We have a whole vacation before
us, and there is no need of doing too much the
first day. Leave the rest until to-morrow. It 's
warm to-night and clear. We may as well curl
up on the piazza, I suppose."
And they did. Wrapping themselves in blankets
and pillowing their heads on sweaters or any-
thing else soft that came handy, they drifted off
to dreamland.
The doctor slept in the middle of the long line,
with five boys on each side. Lefty found himself
at one end with Cousin Willie next, between him-
self and Tad.
The boys were very tired, and soon fell asleep,
in spite of their hard beds which afforded slight
comfort for aching muscles.
About an hour later, Lefty stirred uneasily,
then rolled over, seeking a more comfortable
position. As he did so, he was conscious of a
sound like a stifled sob from his next neighbor.
He smiled scornfully. What was the kid blub-
bering about, anyhow? Then Lefty's kind heart
reproached him. After all, he was only a little
fellow, and this was the first time he ever had
been so far away from home without his mother.
No wonder the poor chap felt homesick !
Lefty rolled over quietly, and put his arm pro-
tectingly around the younger boy.
"What 's the matter, kid?" he said gently.
At first no answer came from the sobbing boy,
but at length his tale of woe was told. He was
so lonesome and tired (he would n't say home-
sick) that he could n't go to sleep, and yet he
did n't want the boys to know how miserable he
felt for fear they would think he was a baby.
Lefty smiled to himself when this statement fell
falteringly from Willie's lips.
Lefty soothed and comforted the unhappy boy
as best he could. "It won't be nearly as hard to-
morrow, Willie," he whispered. "By that time,
you '11 be so happy that the vacation won't seem
long enough. Don't feel badly, either, when the
fellows tease you, because you '11 notice that we
make fun of one another every day. It 's a sign
they like you if they sort of jolly you along.
"Suppose we form a partnership, you and I.
You want the fellows to think that you 've quit
being a kid. That 's good ! That 's the proper
spirit ! If you 're really on the level, I '11 stand
by you and help all I can, but I '11 expect you to
do your part, and you must n't feel sore if I sail
into you like a Dutch uncle whenever you play the
baby. I '11 begin now by telling you to go to sleep.
Just forget everything, and settle down for pleas-
ant dreams."
"All right, partner," Willie murmured drowsily.
When the doctor awoke, soon after sunrise,
and looked over the still forms about him, he saw
the partners fast asleep with their arms around
each other, and he smiled contentedly.
Chapter VII
"HOIST THE FLAG ! THE GIRLS ARE COMING !"
Many duties awaited the boys that first morning
in Beaver Camp, and they were stirring before
the sun was very high in the eastern sky.
Doctor Halsey paired them off, and set them to
doing different things that needed attention. One
pair cut wood and piled it near the camp-fire ;
another carried groceries into the room which
had served the former occupants as a kitchen,
and arranged them conveniently on the shelves ; a
third finished unpacking the boxes and barrels ;
another swept out the rubbish, aired the blankets,
and made the premises tidy, while the last two
boys carried water, washed dishes and cooking
utensils that had just come out of boxes and bar-
rels, and aided in the preparation of breakfast.
624
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[May.
During the morning, Tom and the doctor ar-
ranged for a supply of milk, eggs, butter, and
vegetables from a farmer in the neighborhood,
while Jack and Eliot rowed across the lake to
purchase some necessary articles. While they
were gone, Tad and Lefty walked over to the
railway-station at North Rutland, where they
found the two trunks that had not yet been de-
livered, but no cots.
"Whatever has become of those bally beds?"
Tad exclaimed helplessly.
"I wanted to warn Tom not to buy 'em," Lefty
reminded him, "but you would n't let me. I knew
something 'd happen to 'em."
"Maybe the railroad is using them. They have
sleepers, you know."
"Sure ! Maybe they 've used them for part of
the road-bed."
"No. I know what, Lefty. Don't you remem-
ber the salesman said the legs could be folded
underneath? They probably got tired, curled up
their legs, and went to sleep."
"Well, anyhow, I wish they 'd come. The
piazza floor may be swell for rugged constitu-
tions, but there are things I like better."
"We won't sleep there to-night. We '11 cut
branches and make camp beds. I read a book not
long ago that told how to do it."
"Perhaps they '11 come to-morrow. There 's a
freight up from the south every morning. I won-
der if some one here would cart them over to the
camp and bring the trunks at the same time?"
"Should n't be surprised. I '11 ask the supreme
potentate of freight and baggage."
That official "guessed 'Zekiel Pettingill 'd bring
'em over for 'em if he had a load that way," and
directed them toward the humble home of the
worthy Ezekiel.
As they turned away from the office, they be-
came suddenly aware that three boys, evidently
natives of the place, were regarding them atten-
tively from the top rail of a near-by fence.
"Mornin'," one of them ventured.
Lefty removed his hat and bowed low. "Greet-
ings," he responded.
That stunned the trio into speechlessness, and
it was not until Tad and Lefty had moved some
yards away, that the previous speaker again
found his voice.
"Reckon you fellers play ball?"
"Reckon we do! Want a game?"
The boy nodded. "Be you the fellers that V
stayin' over on the lake?"
"We be— but not all of them. There are eight
more."
"Campin' on the Raymond place, ain't ye?"
"We 're making a feeble stab in that direction."
The natives exchanged glances of ominous
solemnity, and sighed in a manner which some-
how conveyed the idea of awe, apprehension, and
gloomy foreboding all at once.
"Reckon ye won't stay there long. There ain't
a feller in the hull township that 'd go near the
place. It 's haunted ! They say there 's awful
goings on after dark, and somethin' always hap-
pens to folks that stay there."
"I noticed it," Lefty solemnly assured them.
"Last night, along about midnight, I heard a
queer noise out in the woods. It was a wild,
mournful sound"— he shivered as he recalled the
experience, noting the fact, as he paused, that
his auditors were visibly impressed — "like— like
a man playing a bass viol in a prison cell. I
seized the first weapon that came handy, which
turned out to be a can-opener, and went forth to
discover the cause—"
"All alone?" gasped one of the natives.
"Sure ! If I 'd taken some one with me that
would have made a pair, and it 's not time yet
for pears. Well, I stole silently into the woods,
and what do you suppose I saw? A red, white,
and blue elephant with gleaming tusks and a
steamer trunk ! He was sitting on a log, singing,
'Has anybody here seen Kelly?' Oh, yes! the
place is haunted, all right !"
"Wal, I swow !" ejaculated one of the boys, and
all three stared at Lefty with feelings too deep
for expression.
"We '11 arrange a game with you the next time
we 're over," Tad hastily assured them. "Come
along, Lefty ! We want to hunt up the great and
only 'Zekiel and get him to bring the cots over
when they get here. It 's no fun tramping over
to the station every day, only to find out that
there 's nothing doing."
They located Neighbor Pettingill, and made
favorable arrangements with him, then started
back toward the camp.
"Well, Tad, we seem to have landed knee-deep
in an awful mystery," Lefty remarked. "We 've
hired a haunted camp and discovered a man that
we don't dare talk about when anybody 's around.
I thought Tom said this was such a quiet section
of the country."
"That was before taking. His present ideas
have not yet been submitted for publication. I
wonder if those fellows can play base-ball enough
to keep themselves warm."
Lefty shrugged his shoulders doubtfully. "You
never can tell about these country teams, Tad.
They may be able to play all around us. Most
likely they practise a lot, and have a bunch of
heavy hitters on board. It is n't a good plan to
underestimate a team like that. If you do get
igi2.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
625
walloped, it makes you feel like a three-cent piece
with a hole in it."
"If Beaver Camp is haunted, it must have been
spooks that moved our things out into the woods.
Perhaps they put up the sign at the same time,
warning us not to land on our own property.-'
THE DISCOVERY IN THE UNDERBRUSH. (SEE
"Won't it make the fellows' eyes stick out
when we tell 'em that they 've struck a haunted
house?" Lefty chuckled. "We '11 work that idea
for all it 's worth, Tad. If you and I can't have
some fun out of it on the side, it '11 be a wonder."
"Cousin Willie '11 have fourteen fits when he
learns about it," Tad made answer. "He '11 be
so scared, he '11 be afraid of his own shadow."
Vol. XXXIX. -79.
"Oh, don't fret about Cousin Willie ! The
kid 's got the right stuff in him, Tad. I had a
talk with him last night, and he and I have
formed a partnership for — er — for mutual im-
provement and development."
"That 's fine, Lefty ! A partnership like that
ought to do you lots of good.
I 'm so glad, for your sake,
that Cousin Willie has con-
sented to improve you. You
need it ! Of course, I would
n't say so to any one outside,
but since you mentioned it—"
"Exactly ! Cousin Willie
has the right idea about
camp life, Tad. I don't be-
lieve he 's going to give up
very easily, no matter what
happens. At home, I sup-
pose he 's humored and pet-
ted to death, so he 's grown
to expect it. He knows that
he can have his own way if
he makes a fuss about it,
consequently he rules the
roost.
"He seems to have sense
enough, though, to know that
such a program does n't
specially draw a crowd up
here. He 's a sensible kid !
I don't know where he got
his level-headed notions — "
"They come from our
branch of the family."
"A lot they do ! You 'd
have to give trading-stamps
to get anybody to take 'em.
Anyhow, Cousin Willie has
made up his mind that it 's
time he quit being a kid. He
wants to show the fellows up
here that he is just as big as
they are in feelings, and has
just as stiff a backbone. I
told him I 'd stretch forth a
helping hand to aid a stum-
\ge 022 ) bling brother as long as he
acted as if he meant what he
said, and he quite fell on the offer."
"Good work, Lefty ! I did n't think the kid had
it in him. I hope he '11 make good. It would
tickle Mother immensely if he developed as she
wants him to up here at camp."
Arriving at Beaver Camp, the fun-loving pair
lost no time in proclaiming the fact that intelli-
gent natives had declared the place to be haunted,
626
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[May,
but the announcement excited only amusement
and ridicule.
The boys, however, welcomed the invitation to
meet the natives in friendly rivalry on the base-
ball diamond, and began to discuss ways and
means of accomplishing their defeat.
"First thing on the program, we must get our
diamond in shape," Tom suggested. "If we play
in the village, they may want a return game here.
Anyhow, we need plenty of practice. We want
to make a good showing."
"Probably by to-morrow we '11 be able to tackle
our athletic field," Charlie observed. "We seem
to have things in fairly good shape around the
place."
And it was agreed that this matter should re-
ceive attention the next day.
By mid-afternoon, the campers were comfort-
ably settled in their new quarters, and they cele-
brated the completion of their hard toil by hav-
ing an invigorating bath in the lake.
Cousin Willie stood timidly on the shore, after
having waded in until his ankles were covered,
shivering at the thought of plunging into the cold'
water.
"Let 's duck the kid," Bert proposed to Lefty.
"Don't you do it— now," was the pleading re-
sponse. "He 's only a kid, you know, Bert, and if
you go to work and scare him into fits the first
time he comes down to swim, he won't get over it
in a hurry. What 's the use, anyhow? We want
to brace the kid up ! Most likely he '11 enjoy it
as well as any of us once he gets the habit. If he
sees that we 're not going to bother him, he won't
be afraid to come in."
"All right, deacon !" Bert laughingly replied.
"I '11 help make a water baby of him."
He waded ashore as he spoke, and stood for a
moment beside the younger boy, swinging his
arms to keep warm.
"Can you swim, Willie?" he asked finally.
"A little."
"Better come in. The water 's fine to-day.
Honest ! It does n't feel cold after you 've been
in awhile, and it 's a lot more fun than standing
here shivering. Come on in with me. It is n't
deep until — until you get out there where Ed and
Tad are."
Willie drew back, reluctant to plunge in, but
Bert threw an arm about his waist and lifted him
into the water, where they both splashed about
gaily for a few minutes. Then Bert swam off
into deeper water, and Willie essayed a few
strokes himself.
"Not bad, Will ! Kick your legs out more.
That 's the way !" Doctor Halsey called to him
from the shore. Then he waded out to en-
courage the boy with a few suggestions and a
little praise.
Will was very happy when the signal was given
to come out of the water. New forces were stir-
ring within him, and it seemed to him as if he
were just beginning to be a real boy. Also he
felt a growing regard for these lively, fun-loving,
manly fellows, who seemed to take especial pains
to be kind to him and to help him in the carrying
out of certain commendable resolutions which he
had made, and which he had partially revealed
to Lefty when their partnership was formed.
The campers sunned themselves on the beach for
a few minutes, in spite of the doctor's warning of
possible sunburn, then dressed leisurely and wan-
dered up toward the bungalow.
A dismal wailing, which reminded them of
backyard fences at home, saluted their ears as
they approached the house, and Charlie and Wal-
ter, who were in the lead, ran forward to in-
vestigate. No cat had been on the premises since
their arrival, so they wondered whence came the
unmistakably feline solo.
"A cat!" Charlie gasped. "In a cage, too!
Well, did you ever !"
The others crowded around, and saw a small
Maltese kitten imprisoned in a rough cage made
of a crate. On this was tacked a sign bearing
the inscription printed in red ink :
DANGER! DO NOT TOUCH! WILDCAT
CAPTURED IN THE WOODS ON THE
RAYMOND PLACE. MANY MORE AT
LIBERTY ! BEWARE !
The kitten had a piece of red ribbon tied
around its neck, and a little bell tinkled when it
moved.
"Must belong to some one in the neighbor-
hood." Tom asserted. "We 'd better hang on to it
until it 's claimed."
"Wonder how it got into the crate."
"Through the crater, most likely."
There was considerable speculation as to how
and by whom the kitten had been placed on the
bungalow piazza, but other matters claimed the
boys' attention, and just then they were too busy
to attempt a complete solution of the mystery.
A large flag was owned by Beaver Camp, and
Tom, with the help of Eliot and Charlie, at-
tempted to attach it to halyards on a flagpole near
a corner of the bungalow. This required some
little time, but they had just completed the task,
when Bert came running up the pathway from
the shore.
"Hoist the flag !" he cried breathlessly, as he
neared the house. "The girls are coming!"
1912.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
627
"What girls ?" Tom inquired, looking calmly at
the excited messenger.
"I think it 's the same pair that we saw yester-
day in the canoe. They 're headed for our land-
ing."
"All right ! We '11 run up the flag. You 'd
1 THE GIRLS DISCOVERED THEIR PET IN STRANGE QUARTERS
better hustle down and extend a kindly welcome
to 'em. They '11 need a guide if they come ashore."
Bert nodded, and hurried toward the landing,
arriving just in time to see a canoe swing around
in a quarter-circle and come alongside. In it
were two of the girls who had been sitting on the
piazza of Mrs. Spencer's cottage when the boys
called for their first meal the day before.
"Excuse me for troubling you," one of them
said, blushing a bit. "We have lost a little Mal-
tese kitten that we are very fond of. If you see
it around anywhere, will you please catch it and
return it to us? We are Mrs. Spencer's nieces,
and are staying with her."
"Why — why — I think we
have your cat up at the
bungalow. We found it there
a little while ago when we
came back from our swim.
Does it wear a red ribbon
around its neck and a bell ?"
"Oh, yes !" the girls cried
together. "That must be
Cjax."
"Cjax?" questioned Bert.
The girls laughed at his
evident surprise. "We have
four kittens," one of them
explained, "and we named
them Ajax, Bjax, Cjax, and
Djax."
"But how could you tell
which was which?" Bert in-
quired. "I should think you
would be calling Ajax Djax
and Cjax Bjax."
"Oh, no ! They have dif-
ferent markings, and we can
always tell them apart. It 's
really funny, though, to hear
people get them all mixed up
when they talk about them."
"Won't you come ashore?"
Bert asked, politely, suddenly
remembering his duty as host.
The girls looked at each
other uncertainly. Then one
of them said: "We 'd better
go up and get Cjax, Dorothy.
He may run away again if
some one brings him down to
us, and then, you know, we
don't want to trouble any one
when it 's not necessary."
Bert helped them to step
up on the landing, then lifted
the canoe out of the water,
and placed it on the boards. The girls thanked
him politely, and followed him along the path
toward the bungalow.
Bert was fervently hoping that the girls might
not discover the manner in which Cjax was de-
livered to the camp, but, alas ! a long-drawn wail
smote the air as the trio approached the bunga-
low, and the girls exclaimed sympathetically. A
628
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
moment later, they discovered their pet in strange
quarters.
"That 's just the way we found it," Bert ex-
plained, fearing that they might think the Beaver
Campers guilty of cruelty to animals. "We
thought it was a pet, and that some one would
claim it soon. We were afraid it would run away
if we let it out, so we thought it would be safer
to keep it right in the crate."
Eliot appeared on the scene just then, carrying
a hammer, and it was the work of but a moment
to liberate the imprisoned kitten.
"Poor Cjax!" murmured the girl addressed as
Dorothy. "I wonder who shut you up in that
thing."
"Just what we 've been trying to puzzle out,"
Bert assured her.
Then he told the girls of the sign which had
saluted their arrival, of the mysterious removal
of their baggage, and of the inscription which
adorned the crate. He did not add that Beaver
Camp was reputed to be haunted, for he secretly
hoped that this might not be the last visit of the
girls, and feared that news of such sort would
frighten them away from the place.
The girls promised to let him know if they
learned anything that might throw light on the
case, and then said that they would have to hurry
back in order to reach home before supper.
All the boys except Ed and Charlie, who were
preparing the evening meal, escorted them down
to the landing and helped them to embark. Cjax
did not like the looks of the water, and seemed
determined to remain in Dorothy's arm. One
cannot well hold a kitten and manage a paddle
at the same time, however, so Cjax was deposited
on the bottom of the canoe, which was headed
for home.
He soon scrambled to his feet, clutched the side
of the canoe, and looked over toward the boys,
meowing vigorously. Bert waved his hand.
"Good-by, Cjax!" he cried.
But really he was thinking less of the cat than
of — of — other things.
"Nice girls, those !" Jack commented. "I hope
we '11 know them better before the summer 's
over. I dare say they 'd make mighty good com-
pany if a fellow was well acquainted with them."
Walter nodded. "They 're not a bit stiff," he
added. "Just pleasant and polite, not silly or
fresh."
"Those girls were placed in a pretty embarrass-
ing position, when you come to think of it, coming
ashore among a lot of strangers to rescue a cat.
Yet they carried themselves well and did n't do
anything foolish. You can see that they 're well-
bred," said Tom.
All unconscious of these compliments, the girls
continued on their homeward way, arriving
safely at length, in time for Cjax to enjoy the
evening meal in the felicitous feline fellowship of
his brothers Ajax, Bjax, and Djax.
( To be continued. )
THE MIRACLE
BY HARRIET H. PIERSON
A baby seed all dressed in brown,
Fell out of its cradle one day ;
The West Wind took it with loving arms
And carried it far away.
He laid it down on a bed of leaves,
And hid it with blankets white ;
And there it slept like a weary child,
Through the long, dark winter night.
It woke at last, when the springtime came,
And stretched its arms on high,
And it grew and grew through the livelong day,
Toward the sun and the clear, blue sky.
It drew its food from its Mother Earth,
And it drank the cooling shower,
Till the small, brown seed was changed at last
To a sweet, wild, wayside flower !
AN AFTERNOON PARTY— THE FIRST ARRIVAL.
From a painting by J. A. Muenier.
629
WE AND OUR NEIGHBORS"
'T is very hard to sleep sometimes ; you see, the
first of May,
A very noisy family moved just across the way.
There 's Mr. Bird and Mrs. Bird, and Master
Bird and Miss,
And every morn at half-past four, they raise a
song like this :
"A ehirp-a-dee, a chirp-a-dee, a chirp, chirp,
chirp, chirp, chee !"
They do not seem to care a whit how sleepy
mortals be.
We cannot ask them to vacate (this noisy concert
band) ;
They occupy the highest tree there is at their
command.
The elevator that they use is each his own swift
wings;
Contented in this high abode the happy household
sings :
"A chirp-a-dee, a chirp-a-dee, a chirp, chirp,
chirp, chirp, chee !
You people miss an awful lot, who don't live in
a tree !"
This family does not like the cold, and journeys
south each fall ;
And, though we say they wake us up, we long for
spring's recall.
The minstrel troupe comes back to us as noisy as
before,
And other tree-top neighbors come to sing before
our door :
"A chirp-a-dee, a chirp-a-dee, a chirp, chirp,
chirp, chirp, chee !
Who is it talks of little birds that in their nests
agree?"
This lively band of singer-folk ne'er ask a stated
fee,
But, like all other mendicants, subsist on charity;
Descending from their leafy boughs a-many times
a day,
They ask for all the dainty crumbs that we have
stored away.
"A chirp, chirp, chirp, a chirp, chirp, chirp !"
How funny that we keep
Our choicest bits to pay the folk who rob us of
our sleep !
Edith M. Russell.
TRICKED
Each springtime cool the April Fool, his rain- "Wake up and greet the May-time sweet !" he
drop bells a-chiming, laughs, and startled flowers
On rainbow wings a sunbeam brings to buds o'er Unclose their eyes in glad surprise — to drench-
dark banks climbing. ing April showers. May Aiken.
630
"THE CAPTAIN, LEAPING FROM HIS CHAIR BY THE FIRE, WAS SENT SPRAWLING." (SEE PAGE 636.)
THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN SPUR
BY RUPERT SARGENT HOLLAND
Author of " Historic Boyhoods," " Historic Girlhoods," etc.
Chapter XII
A STORM IN THE HIGHLANDS
Real snow came late that December, not the thin
layef- that sparkled on the grass, but deep drifts
tha't-tl'lmost hid the fences, and made the country
about Westover House look very new and
strange. Every morning, Roger woke up to find
his bedroom windows covered with queer frost
tracings, and, when he looked out, the trees had
long icicle fingers, and their limbs shone as if
they were made of glass. It was good to get into
warm clothes and go down-stairs to a hot break-
fast, and to stand in front of the blazing logs on
the dining-room hearth.
His tutor left Westover House the day before
Christmas, and Roger drove over with him to the
railroad station. He had a few last presents he
wanted to buy in the village, so he told John, the
coachman, not to wait for him. He had on his
fur coat and cap, and his fur-lined gloves, and,
after he had made his purchases, he started home
on foot.
A few snowflakes were falling as he left the
village, and the sun was a curious red-gold. With
the eye of a weather-prophet, Roger predicted
that a storm was coming. Then he dug his hands
deep into his pockets and stepped on briskly.
Soon the snow was falling faster, making a veil
that hid almost everything but the road, and the
sun had disappeared.
"Bad weather to be abroad in, is n't it ?" asked
a voice at his elbow.
Roger turned in surprise. Beside him strode a
slender man, muffled up to his ears in a greatcoat,
with a broad hat pulled far down upon his brow.
631
\
632
THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN SPUR
[May,
"My bonnie Scotland is not so kind to me as
she might be," went on the stranger. "I love the
Highlands best in sunny weather."
"Scotland !" exclaimed Roger, in a tone that
sounded as though he thought his companion
must be dreaming.
"Aye, bonnie Scotland," repeated the other.
"We are not so very far from Perth, and if the
snow were not so thick, you might see Kinnoul
Hill. I must reach Perth before the dawn, but
if the wind shift—" He broke off, and threw out
his hands to show how he felt as to what might
happen then.
Roger thought they ought by now to be near
his father's house, but he did not say so. He
walked on silently, save for the crunching of the
snow under his heavy-shod boots.
"Don't you know who I am?" asked his com-
panion presently, turning toward him. "I know
you. Your name is Roger Miltoun."
Roger had been thinking hard. This man must
be the last of the Knights of the Golden Spur,
the slender man with the deep, dark eyes and the
smiling lips, who had kept turning a great seal-
ring upon his finger.
"I do remember you," he said finally. "You
had a hat with a feather, and a blue coat under
your cloak, and a seal-ring on your finger. I 've
been wondering who you are."
The man pulled his coat-collar a little away
from his face, and Roger could see that he was
very handsome, although very pale and thin. "My
name is Charles Stuart," said he, "and by right I
should be King of England and of Scotland, as
my fathers were before me. But, instead, I am
only called Prince Charlie, and the English troops
are hunting me through Scotland like a common
thief."
"Bonnie Prince Charlie !" exclaimed Roger.
"Why, I 've heard lots of songs about you !"
But Prince Charlie's lips had lost their smile,
and he was staring very soberly ahead of him.
"Tracked like a thief in my own Scotland," he
murmured, "and driven back again to France.
Roger, if it were not for the love some of these
good people of the Highlands bear me, I had al-
most as soon sink into one of these great drifts
and never rise again as to fight on." Then, very
abruptly, he threw back his shoulders, and his
eyes took on a new light. "Shame on you, Charlie
lad," said he. "The heir of the Stuarts to whine
because he 's whipped ! Nay, not so. Courage
and a smile will always set doubts packing !"
Then he broke into a light laugh. "What a
chase those Hanoverian soldiers have had after
me ! Once I was hid in the trunk of a tree as
they shot past in full cry, and many a day I 've
lain in a cave in the rocks with a few faithful
friends, waiting for the cover of a dark night to
steal away. But traveling in company became
too dangerous, and so we scattered. And now I
must reach the house of one Tammas Campbell,
a gunsmith who lives just this side of Perth, for
to-night I will find there men who will smuggle
me on board the French ship that waits for me.
It should not be a long way to this Campbell's
but for this storm."
By this time, Roger thoroughly realized that
they were not in the neighborhood of Westover
House, but in a rough and hilly country. They
were going uphill, and a new and piercing wind
blew straight in their faces as if from a gap in
the hills.
So they tramped on for what seemed like miles,
through a white desert. They could see scarcely
a yard in front of them, and it was only the
banks that rose on either side that kept them in
the road. Roger was chilled through, and every
muscle ached, but he knew that he must go on
fighting through the storm beside Prince Charlie.
Every little while he glanced at the man beside
him, whose broad-brimmed hat and shoulders
were covered with drifts of snow, while now and
then he would fling his arms about to warm them.
Soon Roger found himself stumbling and almost
falling, and needed all his wits to keep his feet
moving on the road.
They were in very bad plight in all seriousness.
Night had come and ringed them in, and the
darkness added its fear to that of the cold and
their ebbing strength. Then the road dipped, and
he wondered if they could be coming down from
the hills. Suddenly the wind veered and struck
them from the left. It brought a great, whirling
mass of snow that hit them with terrific force.
It seemed as if they could not take another step
forward, but must either be blown back or fall
prone on the ground. Roger felt Prince Charlie's
arm around his shoulders, and so they stood, hold-
ing to each other, while the sudden whirlwind beat
mercilessly against them. Then it slackened a
little, and Roger heard his companion shouting at
him, "I thought I heard a dog's bark on the right.
We must climb up the bank."
Roger had a remnant of strength left, and with
it he fought his way beside the prince up the
slippery ground at the side of the road. Then
they stumbled on. Suddenly in the darkness they
struck a wooden wall. Roger now heard the dog
barking, and felt himself being pulled to the left.
Then he heard the prince beating on wood with
his feet, and, before he knew what was happen-
ing, the darkness opened, and he lurched forward
into a lighted room. He felt a sudden, sharp
19".]
THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN SPUR
633
pain, as of fire, shoot through him, and then, in
spite of his struggles, his eyelids closed.
When he opened his eyes again, he could not,
at first, imagine where he was. He was lying on
a couch covered with skins. His boots and his
fur cap and coat were gone. Great logs were
blazing in a fireplace, a table was set with plates
and glasses in the center of the room, and a girl
was pouring something steaming hot from a stone
pitcher into a great bowl that stood upon the
hearth.
A young man sat in front of the fire, swinging
one leg slowly over the knee of the other. He
wore a dark blue suit, but although Roger had
only seen him in his cloak and high boots, he
knew it was Prince Charlie. In a chair on the
other side of the hearth sat an older man, of
heavy build, with shaggy, gray hair. A boy, a
little older than Roger, had just come into the
room, and laid some logs of fire-wood on the
hearth.
"I 've drawn nae sword mysel this last year,"
the gray-haired man was saying, "for my right
arm has lost its cunning and wull na bend. But
my brothers and all the clan MacGregor followed
the beacon light, and my little lad Angus here
begged sae hard that I could na keep him hame.
But I should beg your pardon, young sir," the
man went on. "It may be ye are nae Jacobite
yoursel, but hereabouts 't is hard to speak of any-
thing but King Charles and the war."
"Poor King Charlie," said the girl. "Each
night we say a prayer for him."
"An' hope he be safe and sound," added Angus,
"and na skirling aboot the Hielands in despair."
The man in blue turned toward the girl.
"Those prayers of yours will save him yet," said
he. "Say them still after he goes to France, and
he '11 come back again."
"Oh, do ye think sae?" said she, taking a few
steps forward.
"Will he come back? Will Charlie cross the
water?" exclaimed the old man in excited tones.
The young man rose and stood with his back to
the fire. "Aye, he will come bacV said he, "sae
lang as Scotch hearts beat sae true to him."
"How d' ye ken?" asked the man, sitting for-
ward in his chair.
The young man twisted the signet-ring about
on his finger. "I should know," said he, "for my
name is Charles Stuart, and I sail for France at
dawn."
There was absolute silence for a moment, then
the Scotchman rose from his chair and dropped
on his knees before the man in blue, and the boy
and girl knelt on either side of him. "Sae it is
Your Majesty in vera truth !" the Scotchman ex-
Vol. XXXIX.— 8o.
claimed. "Forgi'e the likes o' us for being sae
familiar."
"Forgive you for taking me in from the storm
and saving my life?" said the young man, with a
smile. "No, I shall never forgive that, nor for-
get it."
"I saw Your Majesty once— in battle," said
Angus, "an' I was doubtin' just afore ye spoke — "
"And I too," said the girl. "I 've a picture in
my locket o' Prince Charlie."
"Of King Charles, Elspeth," corrected her
father.
"No," said the young man, "not King, but only
Prince Charlie. I love the name, for those who
call me by it are fond of me."
"And weel they may be, sir," said the Scotch-
man, rising from his bended knee. "And when
ye come again, I '11 draw the claymore, right arm
or nae right arm."
"And that will surely help to win the day for
me," answered Prince Charlie. He spoke so
frankly and so courteously that his very words
seemed to make people love him. "But until that
day comes, I must go back to France," he added,
"and to do that I must reach before dawn the
house of a gunsmith, named Campbell, on the
edge of Perth."
" 'T is na sae far to Campbell's hoose," said
the Scotchman. "A mile straight doon the road.
But ye '11 na be gangin' just yet. 'T is an honor
my bairns and I will ne'er be forgettin' if we
micht hae our bonnie Prince Charlie to sup on
Christmas e'en."
"And Charlie would like that supper," said the
prince, "for the scones smell very good, and so
does that bowl of punch. Aha ! see the lad on the
couch prick up his ears at the naming of hot
things to eat."
It was true. Even the comfort of the bed of
skins was not so strong as Roger's appetite just
then. He sat up, and soon, rising, stepped over to
the fire.
"Is n't this a merry change, Roger?" asked the
prince. "Instead of raging snow and biting wind,
blazing logs, a stout roof, and a steaming supper.
Come, let 's to table."
Prince Charlie took the chair at the head.
None of the others would have sat down, but he
insisted. Elspeth had set all the dishes out, so
that now she had little to do in waiting on them.
The prince and Roger were so hungry that their
Scotch host was kept busy cutting slices of veni-
son to fill their plates.
It was a real Christmas eve feast, and it ended
with Elspeth's pride— a fine plum-pudding. When
the last of that had vanished, Prince Charlie
pushed his chair back from the table, and told
634
THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN SPUR
[May.
them some of the strange adventures that had
befallen him in the last few weeks. Then he
asked Elspeth if she would not sing for him, and,
with a flushed face, she stood up and sang the old
Jacobite song of "The Young Chevalier," her
sweet voice trembling as she looked at the prince.
The song ended, and the prince clapped his
hands, crying, "Brava, brava, Elspeth !" But the
words were scarcely out of his mouth before
there was a loud knocking at the door, and a
voice cried, "Open ! open in the king's name !"
Then, before any one had time to think, the
door broke inward, and an officer in English uni-
form stood in the room with sword drawn. And
behind him came others, all with muskets. The
first man cast his eye over the startled group, and
singled out the young man in blue. "My orders
are to hold you, sir," said he, with a bow, "until
the captain-general comes out from Perth."
The Scotchman sprang forward, throwing him-
self between the prince and the English officer.
"This mon bides wi' me, and ye maun e'en kill
me afore ye can tak him."
"Nay, friend," said the prince. "This good
soldier has made a mistake. He takes me for
some other person than the simple man I am."
"Your pardon, sir, but I take you for Charles
Stuart," answered the officer. "My men have
been on your track since early day. There 's no
use fighting," he added, looking at the Scotch-
man. "It would only be good blood spilled."
The Scotchman looked as if he were about to
throw himself on the officer, but Prince Charlie
put a hand on his shoulder. "There is a time for
everything," said he, gently but firmly, "and this
is none for fighting."
The prince sat down again in his seat by the
fire, and the officer bade certain of his men to
guard the doors of the house. Then he helped
himself to a glass of the punch.
"Sit here with me, captain," said the prince,
invitingly, pointing to a chair near him. "Friends
are much better gear than enemies."
All this time Roger had been watching every-
thing, but saying nothing. Two of the soldiers
sat down by the supper-table, and another was
talking with the Scotchman and his son Angus in
a corner. One stood, musket on shoulder, out-
side the front door, and another had gone to
watch the door at the back of the house. Elspeth
had slipped out of the room, and now Roger stole
out of the room also. He found Elspeth in the
little dark hall, crying as if broken-hearted.
"Where are my boots and coat?" asked Roger,
in a low voice.
"Oh, the puir prince," sobbed Elspeth, seeing
it was Roger. "And he sae bonnie, too."
"Get me my boots and cap and coat," said
Roger. "Then if you can draw the soldier away
from the kitchen door a minute, I '11 slip out.
Call him over to the fire for a dish of broth."
Elspeth returned in a moment, and Roger pulled
on his boots and struggled into his fur coat and
cap. "Now go back and get that soldier over by
the fire," said he.
Again Elspeth did as she was told. Then, very
cautiously, Roger looked in at the kitchen door.
The only light in the room was what came from
the fire. The soldier was standing beside Elspeth,
watching her ladle hot broth into a big cup.
Roger waited until the soldier took the cup in
his hand and held it up to drink. Then he
slipped around the edge of the room, keeping in
the shadow, until he came to the door. The
soldier had left this unlatched, and he could open
it without making any noise. He crept out, and
pulled the door shut after him.
The storm had ended. Before him lay a great
white field of snow, and beyond were the lights
of a good-sized town. Roger knew that must be
Perth, so he turned up his collar, pulled his cap
down over his ears, and headed for the road that
Prince Charlie and he had left. Luckily there
was enough starlight now for him to see his way.
Chapter XIII
WHAT HAPPENED TO PRINCE CHARLIE
Roger knew that he must hurry if he was to aid
Prince Charlie. The captain and the five men
who were guarding him now were likely to be
relieved at any moment by the arrival of others
from the castle at Perth. His business was to
get to Tammas Campbell at once. So he ran and
slid and hurried down the highroad as fast as he
could, until he could make out the blur of many
houses, and could see spirals of smoke floating
from chimneys across the starlit sky. Several
cottages stood on either side of the road, and he
stopped in front of each one and looked for a
sign. They all seemed to be small farmers'
houses, so he kept on along the road until he
reached one that stood farther back from the
highway. Following a path made by recent foot-
prints, he came to the door, and peered up at a
sign-board that hung creaking in the wind. He
could make out two crossed muskets on it, and
the words, "T. Campbell, Gunsmith."
Roger knocked boldly upon the door. No one
answered him, so he knocked again, and then,
after a little wait, a third time. He stepped back,
and looked the house over. It was small, with a
thatched roof, and all the windows were covered
with wooden shutters. He was certain that this
1912.]
THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN SPUR
635
must be the place that the prince had been aiming
for, so he gave the door a stout kick with his
foot. Almost instantly it opened, and a man
looked out. at him. "De'il tak ye! Why be ye
"THE SOLDIER WAS WATCHING ELSPETH LADLE HOT BROTH INTO A CUP.
knockin' up honest folk this time o' nicht?" said
the man, angrily.
"There 's a man up the road needs help," said
Roger. "A man who wants to go to France."
The man at the door stared at him for a mo-
ment. Then he said, "I thought ye waur a troop
o' horse by the racket ye made, but syne ye be
only a lad, ye may e'en come indoors."
The gunsmith's main room was a strange-look-
ing place. A peat fire burned on the hearth and
filled the room with smoke. All about were the
parts of guns, and odds and ends of old metal.
The fire gave the only light, but it was enough to
show Roger that there were a number of men on
the far side of the room, a rough, weather-beaten
lot, who looked like sailors or smugglers.
Tammas Campbell shut the door and bolted it.
"What was that ye said aboot a man bound to
France?" he asked, turning around to Roger.
"Ye seem to hae part o' a countersign I ken, but
na the rap at the door. What is 't ye 'd say to me ?"
Roger glanced at the men half hidden by the
haze of peat^smoke. "I 'd
rather speak to you alone,"
said he; and added, "that is
if you are Tammas Camp-
bell."
"Aye, lad, I be Tammas
Campbell right enow. An'
these be good friends o'
mine wha ken all my
secrets." Then, as if he
understood the reason for
Roger's hesitation, he said;
"If there 's a man wha 's
gangin' aff to France the
morn, they be anxious to
hear o' him."
Roger realized that this
was no time for distrust.
"I came through the hills
with a man this afternoon,"
said he. "We were caught
in a storm and had to stop
at a cottage about a mile
from here. Some English
soldiers broke into the
house after supper, and
took him prisoner."
"An' why did they do
that?" demanded Campbell.
"They said he was Prince
Charles Stuart."
"Prince Charles Stuart !"
echoed the gunsmith. He
turned toward the group of
men. "Now what think ye
o''that? 'T is ill news the lad brings."
"An' was he Charlie himsel?" one of the men
demanded.
"Yes," said Roger, "it was really he."
"Then by the blessed Saint Andrew !" ex-
claimed the gunsmith, "I '11 na be sittin' here.
Lads, will ye leave him trapped in the hands o'
yon English butchers?"
In a trice, they were all up, stamping, growling
at the English, blessing Prince Charlie, feeling
for their dirks, and making ready to set out at
once.
"Every mon tak a gun," said the smith, point-
ing to a rack of muskets. "Noo, lad, lead us to
yon cot."
Roger glanced at the crowd. There were a
dozen of them, strapping big fellows, who looked
as if they would rather fight than eat. "Come !"
636
THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN SPUR
[May,
he cried, and, unbolting the door, led the way out
into the road.
It was harder work toiling uphill than it had
been sliding down, but at last Roger could point
out the cottag^ to Campbell. The gunsmith went
first to reconnoiter, leaving the others crouched
behind the bank at the side of the road. When
he came back, he gave his orders, and the band
of Scots crept forward. Two were told off to the
front of the house, and these two came so sud-
denly and so fiercely upon the soldier on guard
there, that, the first thing he knew, he was flung
forward into a snowdrift, and so stunned that he
could give no cry. Then these two stood by the
door, and the others went to the windows.
Roger, one of the gunsmith's muskets in his hand,
stood his place with the rest, ready to break the
window in front of him and fire as soon as he
got the word of command.
He could see Prince Charlie and the English
captain talking by the fire, and the soldiers sit-
ting at the supper-table. Then suddenly the door
was burst open, and Tammas Campbell stood on
the threshold, a leveled musket at his shoulder.
"Hands up !" he roared in a voice of thunder.
Without waiting, he cried, "Fire !" Musket bar-
rels broke the glass of every window in the room,
and muskets, aimed at the ceiling, sent out a
round of shot. Then, while the English soldiers
were almost blinded by the smoke and dazed by
the roar, the Scots sprang forward, dirks in hand,
following Tammas through the open door.
The captain, leaping from his chair by the fire,
was sent sprawling by a blow from Campbell's
fist. The soldiers at the table threw up their
hands when the steel of the dirks danced before
their eyes. There came a cry of warning from
the kitchen, and then the noise of a heavy man
falling to the floor. Two Scots had taken charge
of the guard at the rear, and handled him With
the same skill and despatch their mates had
showed with the soldier at the front. Roger
dashed into the room just in time to see the
enemy's complete defeat.
Campbell gave his orders sharply. The cap-
tain's sword and his men's muskets were secured,
and their arms bound. Not until he had seen
them made absolutely secure did he turn to the
man in blue. Then he pulled off his woolen cap
and bowed low to him.
"Heaven save Your Majesty !" said he. "Trust
a Scottish mon to tak an English !"
"You 've done it as neatly as ever hunter
trapped a boar," answered Prince Charlie. "I '11
never forget this night's work of you and your
men. The boy brought you the tidings?"
"Aye, the lad here," said Tammas, nodding.
"Come here, Roger," said Prince Charlie. "Do
you know that all the time I sat by the fire with
the English captain, I had a hope that you 'd be
winning down to Campbell's?"
"He 's a clever lad," said Tammas. "When he
rappit at the door, he did na give the countersign
agreed to, so I e'en let him rap. But he did na go
away, but kept on poundin', so I took a look at
him."
"Angus, my coat and hat and boots," said
Prince Charlie. "They should be well warmed by
now. We must be making for the French ship,
or there '11 be another rescue party climbing the
hill."
Angus brought the prince's outer garments
from the kitchen, and now helped him on with
them. Prince Charlie shook hands with the boy
and his father. "Keep those claymores sharp,"
said he, "for I shall be coming back soon, and if
you two do not join me, my cause is as good as
lost. But where is Elspeth? I must be hastening,
but I want to say good-by to her first."
Elspeth, when she heard her name spoken,
came into the room. The prince put out his hand
and took hers. "No matter what happens to me,"
said he, "I '11 never forget how you sang, 'Charlie
is my darling.' "
She flushed, her eyes misty with tears. "And
I '11 never forget Prince Charlie," said she ; and
before he could stop her, she had bent and kissed
his hand.
Leaving the English soldiers in the Scotch-
man's care, the gunsmith called his men together
and placed Prince Charlie and Roger in the
center of the square they formed. "So if we
meet any soldier men," he explained, "they '11 na
see who we hae wi' us, but tak us for a band o'
country loons singin' Christmas carols to the
neighbors."
But they looked like anything but carol singers
as they shouldered their muskets and started
down the road. Tammas led the march, and
turned off by a path to the right before they
reached Perth. The snow was deeper here, but
the men in front made a trail which provided
easier going for the prince and Roger. At last
they paused upon a slope and saw where just in
front of them a lantern on a ship made a rippling
path of light upon the water.
"Yon 's the French brig," said Tammas, point-
ing to the rocking light.
A hundred yards more brought them to a small
inlet, and there lay a long rowboat half hidden in
beach-grasses. The Scotchmen stepped on board
and took their places at the oars. Prince Charlie
and Roger sat in the stern seat, and Tammas
crouched in "front of them. A man in the bow
1912.]
THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN SPUR
637
cast off. "Noo," said Tammas, "pull for the brig
yonder. All the redcoats i' the kingdom should
na hae Prince Charlie noo."
The prince looked back at the shore they were
leaving. "Farewell, Scotland !" he murmured.
"My heart is sore at going, but I '11 come back.
Yes, I '11 come back to you."
The Scotchmen pulled strong oars, the water
splashed from their blades, and the light on the
brig grew larger, and soon Roger could make out
her lines and even see a group of men gathered
in the bow, facing toward them. "Noo let her
run !" called Tammas. The oars rose and stayed
poised, and the long boat shot gently into the
great black shadow made by the ship. "Here we
are, Roger," said Prince Charlie. "In good time,
too, for yonder streak on the horizon looks like
dawn to me."
Chapter XIV
HOW THE KNIGHTS DECIDED
When Roger woke up the next morning, he
found the storm had cleared and he could see
from his window the motionless white arms of
the elm at the side of the house. But he did not
jump right out of bed because he could not help
wondering how Prince Charlie was faring in the
French brig, and if he would really return to
Scotland some day and fight for his throne again.
As he was thinking that, Roger's father knocked
at his door, and said, "Roger, you 'd better tumble
out as quick as you can, or you '11 find it 's the
day after Christmas."
That would never do ; so Roger hastened to
dress, and ran down to breakfast. He got there
in time to find that it was still December twenty-
fifth, and to wish all the family a Merry Christ-
mas.
That was a wonderful holiday week, for the
fine weather held, and the boys could live out-of-
doors. But one thing worried Roger as the
holidays wore on. Each one of the knights who
had sat at the table had come to Westover House
and taken him away with him, as they had
agreed, and now he was afraid there would be
no more adventures.
Christmas week passed, and he saw none of
them. New-year's eve came, and Roger's father
and mother drove away in a sleigh to a neigh-
bor's house, for a dinner-party, and to see the
New-year in. Roger sat reading in the library
until the clock struck eleven. Then he put his
book on the table and went over to the hearth,
where he kicked the big logs into a blaze. He
did not feel sleepy, and he did not want to go to
bed. Then he remembered the book, bound in
green and gold, that he had been reading on that
other night, and also the little amulet of jade.
He took the book from the shelf and the amu-
let from its drawer in the cabinet, and carried
them to the tiger skin before the fire. He
stretched out, and opened the book at the page
that was still marked with the slip of paper he
had left in it. He read the lines again, out loud,
to catch the sound of them.
He finished reading, and, looking down at the
amulet in his hand, wished that he might see his
knights again. Then, above the crackling of the
fire, he caught a murmur of voices. With a beat-
ing heart, he got up and looked about. Yes, the
room was as it had been on that other night, with
tapestries hanging where the windows would
have been.
Trembling with excitement, Roger dropped the
amulet into his pocket, and walking across the
room, pulled the tapestries apart. Beyond lay
the hall of the Knights of the Golden Spur. The
banner of white, with the spur of gold in its
center, hung high above the shining table, and
the torches in their rings about the walls lighted
the faces and figures of the six men who sat
about the board. One chair stood empty, just as
it had before.
Sir Lancelot was speaking. " 'T is well met
we are, brothers," said he, "to cast our balance
on this closing night of the year. When we last
met, a lad of this new century came to us, eager
to win yon vacant seat. Has each of ye seen him
since?"
"Aye," came in a chorus of voices from those
gathered there.
"And what think ye of him?" asked Lancelot.
"Speak first, Prince Charlie."
The young man in blue smiled as he glanced
about the circle of expectant faces. "Roger Mil-
toun went through a storm with me when we
were like to perish," he answered. "He carried
news of my capture to a house of strange men,
and brought them back to save me. He was true
as steel to me."
"What sayest thou, Philip Sidney?" asked Sir
Lancelot, turning.
Sir Philip Sidney pushed his chair a little back
from the table. "England needed help," said he,
"for Spain's Armada was ready to descend upon
us. Traitors were sending secrets across seas,
and, when they might have slipped me, Roger
pursued and wrenched the gilded tube from a
traitor's neck. My gracious Queen Elizabeth has
thanked him, and she is a judge of daring men."
"And I," said the tall man in the black armor,
with the ostrich-plumes in his helmet, "can vouch
his cunning and his courage. He won me back
my father, who was duped by certain evil men."
638
THE KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN SPUR
"He helped me bring a young earl out of evil
plight," put in Richard Cceur de Lion. "And his
wits are of keen edge."
"So say I," said Little John. "We made him
one of Robin Hood's band."
"He rode with me to Forfars," said Lancelot,
"and but for him, I should never have seen
Camelot again. How say ye? Is he worthy the
seat that 's waiting there?"
Again came the chorus of voices, "Aye, he is !"
"I pray thee bring him hither, Prince Charlie,"
said Sir Lancelot.
Prince Charlie rose and stepped to the tapes-
tries. He flung them back. There stood Roger,
his eyes dancing with joy and excitement.
"Oho," said Prince Charlie, "so you heard what
I said about you !"
"I could n't help it," answered Roger. "I
did n't know you were all here again, but when I
found you, I could n't go away."
"There is no need of that now, Roger," said
the young man in blue. "Give me your hand."
Prince Charlie led him past the curtains and up
to the big arm-chair which stood on the opposite
side of the round table from that of Sir Lancelot.
The knights had all risen and were looking at
Roger.
"Here is Roger Miltoun, my brothers," said
Prince Charlie, "and he is as fit to be a knight of
this new century as we each were of ours."
Roger glanced about the circle of faces, each
so different from the others, and yet each that of
an old friend. At last he looked at the splendid
man in gold, whose clear, deep eyes were fixed
upon him.
"We have all tried thee, Roger," he said slowly,
"in peril of witchcraft and of storm, of treach-
ery and craft, and we have all found thee stead-
fast. The last seat at the board is thine."
Then Sir Lancelot took a small golden spur
that hung at his shining belt, and passed it to
Little John. He, in turn, handed it to the Black
Prince, and he to Prince Charlie. "This is the
badge of our order," said Prince Charlie, as he
placed the little spur in Roger's hands.
"Now," came the ringing voice of Lancelot,
"our table is complete! Hail the last knight;
give hail to Roger Miltoun !"
Each man drew his sword and flashed it above
his head, pointing it toward the great banner
that hung high above the table. "Hail, Roger
Miltoun ! Hail, the new Knight of the Golden
Spur !" they cried.
The swords fell and were sheathed. Then
Lancelot took his seat again, and after him in
THE
order, Little John, Richard Coeur de Lion, the
Black Prince, Sir Philip Sidney, and Prince
Charlie. Last of all, Roger sat down in his big
arm-chair.
One fear was in his mind, and he could not
keep it from his lips. "Will the amulet and the
verses bring you all again, Sir Lancelot?" he
asked.
Lancelot smiled. "When there is need of brave
work to be done, of wrongs to be redressed, of
ills to be prevented, we will each come to thee,
according to our need. When thou hast need of
any one of us, hold the little spur in thy hands
and speak his name. He will be standing by
thee when thou lookest up again. Twice every
year we meet here in our hall, one summer's
night, and every New-year's eve. Thou wilt
know we are here, for I shall summon thee."
Roger sat back in his chair, satisfied. He had
never been so happy in his life. Then there
boomed out on the night the first stroke of a
great bell, ringing somewhere in the distance.
Sir Lancelot stood up. "The old year passes,
brothers. A welcome to the New-year !"
They all leaped to their feet, a sword shining
in each unlifted hand. Roger felt instinctively
at his belt. He found the hilt of a sword, and
drew the blade forth. Like the rest, he pointed
it toward the banner. "Hail to the New-year ;
to the New-year all hail !" came the loud chorus
of voices, Roger's among them. So they stood
while the bell rang out its twelve slow strokes,
and at the last each thrust his sword yet higher
toward the banner.
The last stroke was still echoing in the air, but
the torches, the table, and the knights were gone.
Roger was standing at the bow-window in his
father's library, looking out over the fields of
snow. He heard the last echo grow fainter,
fainter, and then vanish. He held something
clutched in his left hand. He opened his fingers
and looked down at it. It was a little gold spur, of
an old-fashioned pattern and curiously wrought.
He turned and walked over to the fireplace.
The book bound in green and gold still lay on the
tiger rug where he had left it. He looked about
the room. There was no doubt it was his father's
library. "Yes, I 'm wide awake," said he, aloud,
"and I 'm certainly here at home." He looked
down at the spur again. "Yet here 's the spur
they gave me; so it must be true. I 've only to
keep it safe, and want one of them very much,
and he '11 come to me. And more than that, I,
too, am a Knight of the Golden Spur!"
END.
A SPRING EVENING AT THE BEETLEBURG AMUSEMENT PARK.
639
THE BODY-GUARD
BY GEORGE LAWRENCE PARKER
round every general
when he goes to
battle is a selected
company of men,
sometimes a whole
troop, called his
body-guard. Their
main duty is to
protect the com-
mander. Whoever
is in danger, he
must not be ; whoever
falls, he must not. They do not do skirmish duty,
nor picket duty, this body-guard ; they protect the
general. Their business is to serve the whole
army by guarding the life of the one who, in his
turn, serves the army by commanding it. The
position of these men is a proud one, and they
are often the pick of the fighting force. To be
near the general and responsible for his safety is
an enviable post, and the warm sense of friend-
ship between the chief of the whole army and this
small part of it, is a prize that every soldier
would like to call his own.
When we enter the fighting-field of life, as
each of us must do, we are provided with a body-
guard. In time we may come to command large
armies in the field of business, or we may com-
mand forces in the field of art, as Raphael and
Rembrandt and Turner did; or in the field of
science, as Helmholz and Edison ; or in literature,
as did Dickens and Stevenson. We may do all
this, and yet be exposed to great danger and
failure if our body-guard should desert or prove
cowardly. And, on the other hand, it is well to
remember that if we never hold a generalship or
a place of command, this body-guard is still
necessary. Every person needs it, and every per-
son has it, whether he becomes as famous as
Napoleon, or lives quietly in a country village all
his life. It is as much needed in carrying on
the smallest duties of life as it is in conducting
campaigns of war or discovering a new comet.
The body-guard I am speaking of, as you surely
see by this time, is something that has to do with
us as individuals, rather than as people who hold
this or that position. It is the protecting force,
the selected troop of habits, influences, and char-
acter, which is close to us to see that, no matter
whether we win or lose the fight, we shall not
lose the life of our best self. This body-guard
may not keep a man from losing his money, but it
can and will keep him from losing his character.
It may not make a boy win every foot-ball game,
but it will help him to win every fight with mean-
ness or selfishness or wrong. It will make him
commander of himself and of his own thoughts
and actions, even if the rest of his army is de-
feated. If the troops in the field become de-
moralized, as the phrase is, the body-guard re-
mains to see that our real self is not defeated.
You see how important a thought this is. And,
first of all, notice that there is a difference in the
two body-guards I have mentioned. The gen-
eral's body-guard is only provided for him after
he becomes a general. But the body-guard of
each of us as individuals, as Tom, or Mary, or
Elizabeth, is provided for us from the very mo-
ment of our birth. We go on adding to it or
strengthening it, but it is really there almost as
soon as we begin to live. In other words, our
body-guard grows up with us ; it is not made up
of strangers. It is around us from the first.
Who and what are some of the members of
this body-guard— some of these things that are
closest to us? We must know them by name,
if what I have said of them is true.
The first I want to name is Character. Char-
acter is the quality that keeps us always our-
selves. It stands nearest to that innermost part
of us that each calls "myself" ; sometimes it is even
hard to distinguish the two. But I like to keep
Character in my body-guard. Character stands
firm under every trial, if we give it the chance to
do so. It says to all the enemies,— temptation,
discouragement, bad luck, the blues, and hosts of
others,— "You may defeat the rest of the army,
but you dare not come near the general." Char-
acter is the quality that always reminds me that
I am myself. It stands just next to myself and
goes on repeating, "Be yourself ! Don't forget
who you are; don't act below yourself." Wher-
ever-'it began, Character is the first in our body-
guard. He will never desert. A boy or girl who
has character, who keeps character strong and
alive, can never truly be defeated.
Then, in our body-guard, is one called Disposi-
tion. Some people have good characters, but un-
pleasant dispositions. Disposition obeys orders,
and we really are to blame if he sulks constantly.
He is more teachable than Character, and we can
improve him if we begin early. If I am cross
and ugly in my tone of voice or looks, it may not
be bad character, but more likely it is bad dis-
640
THE BODY-GUARD
641
position. What I need to do is to cultivate that
Disposition, educate him until he grows better.
If my character is really good, I must tell my
disposition that he must not tell a falsehood about
me, but must show me to others as I really am.
Disposition must be made to keep step with
Character. As the actors on the stage usually
get their signs, or "cues," from another actor, so
Disposition must take his sign from Character ;
otherwise we appear worse than we are. And,
sometimes, if Disposition remains bad too long, he
can even spoil Character entirely. Just as a poor
player can easily spoil the acting of a great one.
Temper is in our body-guard, a most excellent
protector if controlled. I will only say of him
that he is like a good watch-dog. He does best
service when he is chained up. Keep Temper in
the body-guard, as we keep a good dog near the
door of our house at night. He will bark when
noise reaches him, but he must not run after
noises a mile off that don't concern him. A great
many boys lose their tempers over foolish things.
Their watch-dog has run away, and is off duty.
I have seen a boy get angry over a shoe-lace that
had caught in a knot ; then when, a few moments
later, he saw another boy act rudely, he had no
temper left to make him go up to that boy and
say, in a quiet but strong voice : "You ought to
know better than that."
In this chosen troop, so very close to us, is one
called Habit. He is a kind of an outsider at
first, yet he sooner or later manages the whole
body-guard. He will obey the general only. If
I, that self of mine, give him strict orders, he
will obey; but if I am careless, he obeys no one
and tries to command every one. Habit is the
timekeeper of the body-guard. He tells the rest
of the troop just when the general needs help.
Habit, if allowed to get slipshod, will at once
spoil the rest of the body-guard, and then the
general himself, and his right-hand man, Char-
acter, are in very great danger. Yes, very great !
The body-guard has many others in it whom
you can write down for yourself. You will be
wise if you call the roll some day soon. Ask
Purpose if he is there; ask Good-will if he is
there ; call for Industry, Energy, Perseverance,
Hopefulness, and for the whole splendid com-
pany. They like to be reminded of the general's
care, and you are the general.
You see why the body-guard is a selected troop
—the King's Own. And do you not also see that,
as we go on through life, these are the things
that stay nearest to us. They protect us ; and be-
tween us and them grows up an affection and
friendship which is far greater than we can ever
have for mere skill, or cunning, or power, or
knowledge. These last are good troops, and we
need them. But far more do we need about us
the body-guard of Character, Disposition, Tem-
per, Habit, Purpose, and their sort. When the
battle is lost, we are still victors if we can say,
"My body-guard stood firm. I am still a con-
queror, for I have been true to myself."
MAY-FLOWERS
BY PAULINE FRANCES CAMP
A thousand little plants should be a-greening o'er the land,
Whose seeds were planted January first, you understand.
And if they were well cared for, and the weeds pulled up each day,
Their buds, from sleep, should be a-peep this blossom time of May.
'Good resolutions" were the seeds they planted in the snow ;
And kindly thoughts and words and deeds the blossoms that should blow.
Of course there have been many weeds, to choke the little plants :
Those naughty "Too much troubles," "I forgots," and "Won'ts," and "Can'ts.
Vol
So, in this lovely springtime, look about beneath the leaves.
And see if buds are showing, or have fallen prey to thieves.
For May-time is the bloom time, and if buds are wanting there,
'T is time the plants were getting just a little better care !
XXXIX.-81.
THE LADY OF THE LANE
BY FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT
Author of "The Forest Castaways"
Chapter XI
A GOOD-BY CALL
One morning a week later, Martin came in with
the excited announcement, "They 're up !"
"Who 's up?" inquired Elizabeth.
"The radishes, and lettuce, and peas, and corn."
"They are !" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Then I
"need n't worry any more about my dinner. I
will have a salad and some green peas."
"Lors !" said Martin, "they ain't up that much.
They 're just peeking out o' the ground."
"Oh, dear !" sighed Elizabeth. "Then they
won't be ready to eat for a long time."
"Not for days and days," said Martin.
"Can't you hurry them along?" she asked.
Martin suppressed a smile.
"They have to ta&e their time about growing,
just as you and I ooy' he answered.
"When do you think they will be ready?"
"Lor ! you '11 have radishes in a month."
"Very well," she replied magnanimously, "if
that 's the best you can do."
"Would you like to see them?" he asked, with
some pride.
"I will come out as soon as I 've finished my
morning's work," she answered.
It was already beginning to be easy for her to
prepare the early breakfast. There was a certain
amount of excitement about this mixing of vari-
ous dishes, sliding them into the oven, and seeing
what resulted from the baking. It still seemed
to her more like some mysterious trick than a
science.
A great many things had seemed easier since
the ball game. She found herself going gaily
about her tasks. Roy's kindness, the friendliness
of Nance, and the sight of her schoolmates, all
helped to put her in a better frame of mind. She
began to realize that if her friends had not called
upon her, it was perhaps her own fault. She had
certainly not been very cordial to those who had
come.
Roy had already called twice at the little cot-
tage since the game. He took such an interest
in whatever she happened to be doing, that he
always left her with the feeling that she was
upon some great adventure. Mrs. Trumbull had
told of how her grandmother had gone over the
plains with the early pioneers, and of the hard-
ships and privations she had endured. Of course
what she was doing could not be compared with
that, and yet Roy made her feel that, in a small
way, she was doing something similar.
"What are you thinking of?" inquired Mrs.
Trumbull, this morning, as she noticed the girl's
abstraction.
Elizabeth laughed.
"Martin wanted me to look at the garden," she
answered, seizing the first excuse she could think
of to escape further questioning. "Do you want
to come^r*
"No. Run along and I '11 go up-stairs and put
my room to rights."
Elizabeth hurried out, still wearing her ging-
ham apron. She found the brown earth alive
with tiny sprouts, but she could not tell which
were weeds and which were vegetables. She
pulled up a few, but was still no wiser. As she
looked around for Martin, she heard the sound
of a horse's hoofs upon the grass, and saw Helen
Brookfield galloping toward her.
Had it been possible, she would have retreated,
but there was nothing to do under the circum-
stances but to look up afip smile as the latter
drew rein. It was evident from the expression in
Helen's bright eyes, that she was charged with
excitement of some sort.
"I 've.just come over to say good-by, Beth,"
she began eagerly. "I 'm going away next week."
"Really?" Elizabeth replied with interest.
"It 's so grand and sudden, that I can't realize
it yet. We — we are*going to Europe for the sum-
mer."
"To Europe ?" echoed Elizabeth.
"Yes. Father has to go on business, and de-
cided at the last moment to take us with him."
She uptilted her head a trifle.
"Why, that 's really fine, Helen," answered
Elizabeth.
"I will send you picture postals so that you '11
know where we are," said Helen, with great
condescension. "I 'm afraid it will be lonely
for you here this summer. Is this your flower
garden ?"
"No," answered Elizabeth, "it 's my vegetable
garden."
"Really?" returned Helen, with a lift of her
eyebrows. "And you planted it yourself?"
"With some help," nodded Elizabeth. "Martin
helped, and Mrs. Trumbull helped, and Roy
helped— a kind of cooperative garden, you see."
642
'OH NOTHING, ONLY-WELL, I SUPPOSE HE CAN'T HELP PITYING YOU.
643
(
644
THE LADY OF THE LANE
[May,
"Roy? I think that very nice of him," she an-
swered. "He is so tender-hearted !"
"What has that to do with it?" demanded Eliza-
beth.
"Oh nothing, only— well, I suppose he can't
help pitying you."
"Pity? Me?" cried Elizabeth.
"Of course we all do," Helen hastened to add.
"But perhaps in the fall you can come back to
school, though I suppose you '11 have to go into
a lower class."
Elizabeth murmured something, she hardly
knew what. For a moment, she felt only shamed
and humiliated under the sting of being pitied.
The heart went out of her, and she felt more like
crying than doing anything else. She heard
Helen say good-by and heard her gallop off, and
then she turned back slowly toward the house.
The cruel part of this new point of view was
that it came at just the moment when Elizabeth
had ceased pitying herself. Even now she felt
no trace of self-pity. And now to be pitied by
others — even by Roy — destroyed at a single blow
all the romance of her adventure.
She knew, to be sure, that Helen's remarks
were always to be taken with a grain of salt, but,
in this case, she felt there was a certain basis for
them. Reviewing the incidents since Roy's first
visit, they seemed to fit into Helen's theory. He
had found her in the kitchen, and in his wish to
make the situation easier for her, had tried to
help her cook the doughnuts ; he had returned,
and, for the same reason, had helped her in the
garden ; he had noticed that she was not attend-
ing dancing school and had few visitors, and so
had invited her to the game. It was for no mer-
its or accomplishments of her own. She could
not sing — except with the tea-kettle; she knew
little French; she could not even play tennis. Be-
fore she was through with herself, she was con-
vinced she could do nothing.
Once again she found herself dangerously near
crying. She drew herself up sharply. Crying
would do no good ; it was worse than moping.
Mrs. Trumbull's advice flashed into her head like
a warning, and she caught some of that good
lady's aggressiveness. She was sure the latter
would n't waste any time in useless regrets.
Neither would her mother. Both women would
go ahead in some way and remedy matters. Her
lips came firmly together.
If she had learned to cook, why should n't she
learn to sing? if she had learned to keep house,
why should n't she learn French ? if she had
learned to plant a garden, why could n't she even
learn to play tennis? That she did not have these
accomplishments at present was her own fault
for having neglected her opportunities, but she
had the whole summer before her, and, if she
worked hard, it might be possible to do much
before fall. She felt that moment as though it
was possible to accomplish anything before then.
Another idea lent romance to the undertaking:
she would do these things by herself, and then,
when Roy and the others came back from their
summer vacation, she would surprise them all.
She would sing for Miss Santier as the latter
always said she might sing if only she practised
her exercises; she would address Helen Brook-
field in French ; she might possibly challenge Roy
at tennis ; and, finally, astonish her father with
all three acquirements.
In the glow of her new enthusiasm, she ran
swiftly into the house and up the back stairs to
her own room. She put her hair in order before
Mrs. Trumbull learned of her presence. When
the latter finally heard her moving about, she
opened the door.
"How 'd you find the garden ?" she inquired.
Elizabeth kept her head turned away as much
as possible. She did not yet wish to confide, even
to Mrs. Trumbull, her great project.
"They are up," she answered, repeating Mar-
tin's announcement.
"You were gone so long, I did n't know but
what you got lost," said Mrs. Trumbull.
"Helen— Helen Brookfield rode by," Elizabeth
explained.
"Oh, she did, did she?" exclaimed Mrs. Trum-
bull. "What did she want?"
"She wanted to tell me she is going abroad."
"Well, I 'm glad of it. I hope she '11 stay
abroad."
"I hope she will stay until fall," answered
Elizabeth.
Lightly humming a song, Elizabeth hurried
down to the kitchen. She had no sooner arrived
than she heard a knock on the door. She recog-
nized it with a start. It was Roy. For a mo-
ment, she hesitated, and then retreated across
the room on tiptoe, and hurried up the stairs to
Mrs. Trumbull.
"There— there 's some one at the door," she
said, a little out of breath with excitement.
Mrs. Trumbull looked up sharply.
"Well," she demanded, "why did n't you open
it?"
"Because I don't want to see him," answered
Elizabeth.
"See who?"
"Roy."
"Land sakes !" returned Mrs. Trumbull, in as-
tonishment. "You don't mean to say that you two
have quarreled ! You have n't been so foolish !"
1912.]
THE LADY OF THE LANE
645
"No. It is n't that. But— won't you please tell
him that I can't see him?"
"I don't — I really don't like to do it," Mrs.
Trumbull said frankly. "But if you can give me
any good reason — "
The knock was repeated, for Roy could tell by
the smoke from the chimney that some one was
at home.
"Is it because of anything that Helen Brook-
field said?" demanded Mrs. Trumbull.
"It— it 's something she told me," Elizabeth
admitted finally; "but — oh, please go down!"
Chapter XII
A NEW FRIENDSHIP
'"WHAT IS IT POSSIBLE TO DO WITH
SOFT BOILED EGGS?'"
For a moment, Mrs. Trumbull studied the girl
sharply. She saw that Elizabeth was really in
earnest, and that whatever was troubling her was
no mere passing whim. She started reluctantly
toward the door.
"All right," she said, "I '11 do it, but I don't
like the idea at all."
She went down-stairs, and a moment later,
Elizabeth heard her talking with Roy. Then in a
moment she heard the door close. She tiptoed to
the window and saw Roy striding down the path
carrying his shoulders well back as usual. Unseen
by him, she waved him good-by. "Oh," she ex-
claimed to herself, "I '11 show them ! I '11 show
them all !"
While Mrs. Trumbull was dressing next morn-
ing, she heard, in the kitchen below, such a glad-
some trill of fresh, young notes, blending with
the morning songs of the birds, that she paused
to listen. The voice was so strong and full of
joy that it filled her own old heart, and sent her
back in her thoughts a full twenty-five years. It
was so Elizabeth's mother used to begin the day.
Hurrying through her toilet, Mrs. Trumbull
stole down the stairs and stood a moment at the
kitchen door. Everything in the room seemed to
be singing: the fire in the stove, the kettle on top
of it, and the golden sun, which, in a broad, warm
stream, poured through the* windows. Elizabeth,
with crimson cheeks and in a gingham apron,
stood beside the bread board cutting out biscuits,
which were almost ready to go into the oven.
She was still singing, and though her song con-
sisted of nothing but exercises which Miss San-
tier had given her to practise last winter, there
was music in every note. Mrs. Trumbull did n't
know one tune from another, anyway, but she
knew a singing heart when she heard one. And
if ever the spirit of a summer morning could be
expressed in music, it was being now so ex-
pressed.
Mrs. Trumbull stepped into the room, and,
crossing to Elizabeth's side, kissed her on the
forehead. With a laugh and a little courtesy,
Elizabeth greeted her in French.
"Bon jour, Madame Trumbull."
Madame Trumbull stared at the girl, as though
fearing she had lost her wits.
"What 's that?" she demanded.
"It 's French for good morning," explained
Elizabeth.
"What do you want to put it into French for?
Seems to me that plain English is good enough
for every-day Americans."
"Vraimentf" answered Elizabeth, with a
twinkle.
"Vraymong? What is Vraymong?"
"It 's a polite way of saying, 'Really,' " an-
swered Elizabeth.
"Bah ! I don't call it polite answering a person
back in a way she can't understand."
"But you must learn with me," Elizabeth ex-
plained enthusiastically. "If ever we should go
to France—"
"Catch me going to France !" answered Mrs.
Trumbull. "That chef up to The Towers is all I
want to see of Frenchmen."
"There 's an idea!" cried Elizabeth. "I can
practise on him. Thanks ! I can practise on him !"
646
THE LADY OF THE LANE
[May,
"Nonsense ! Whatever has got into you this
morning, anyway?"
Elizabeth placed her biscuits in a pan and put
them in the oven.
"Lots and lots of things," she answered. "I 'm
going to learn to sing, and speak French, and
play tennis, besides learning to keep house."
"What for?" demanded Mrs. Trumbull, with
her usual directness.
*'It 's a secret," answered Elizabeth.
"I '11 wager it has something to do with Helen
Brookfield."
"Perhaps," answered Elizabeth. "She really
did make me want to do all those things, though
I don't believe she meant to."
"Well, you '11 do whatever you set out to do,"
nodded Mrs. Trumbull. "But what in the world
you want to waste time on that French nonsense
for is more than I know."
That afternoon, Elizabeth paid a visit to The
Towers. She found that the tennis-court there,
though never used, was in very good condition,
for Mr. Churchill never allowed anything about
the estate to suffer from neglect. He strongly
approved of tennis for girls, and had had this
court made in the hope that it might attract
Elizabeth to the game ; but she, after playing in a
desultory fashion for a season, had found that it
required so much exertion that she had finally
dropped it altogether.
The sight of the well-rolled court filled her
with renewed eagerness, but one could n't play
tennis by one's self. Here was an obstacle which,
in the first flush of her enthusiasm, she had not
considered. With her classmates gone for the
summer, she would be left quite by herself.
She went on to find the chef, in order to carry
into effect at once her second plan. The latter
was very glad indeed to see her, for he found
much idle time on his hands since the mistress of
The Towers had left. His choicest creations
often went untasted, and, for breakfast, he was
allowed to display his art in nothing more compli-
cated than soft boiled eggs and hot rolls.
"Ah, ma'm'selle !" he said to her, in French,
with a deprecatory wave of his hands, "what is
it possible to do with soft boiled eggs?"
"Eat them," answered Elizabeth. "We often
have them for breakfast. They are very easy
to do."
"Easy? easy?" he answered, in contempt. "It
is not ease that a chef seeks, but art."
Elizabeth laughed.
"I must tell that to Mrs. Trumbull," she an-
swered.
"Non! non! ma'm'selle," he begged, "for then
Madame Trombooll might wish to come up here."
And the man who held every one in his kitchen
in abject fear, looked so very much concerned
over this possible contingency, that Elizabeth
hastened to change the subject.
"I 'm going to practise my French on you," she
announced.
Again the chef was startled, but he recovered
himself and bowed gallantly.
"It is a too great honor, ma'm'selle," he pro-
tested.
"You mean you don't want me to," answered
Elizabeth, somewhat chagrined.
"Non! non! It is not that. But listen — I have
a niece — Ma'm'selle Gagnon. She has just ar-
rived, and is very anxious to give the lessons in
French. Perhaps—"
"That will be even better," answered Eliza-
beth, without hesitation. "You may send her to
the house. But I shall practise on you just the
same whenever I come here."
Again the chef bowed.
"V'enever ma'm'selle wishes," he agreed.
So that much was settled at any rate, and
Elizabeth returned to her own house somewhat
encouraged. She was just about to enter, when
she heard a voice behind her. Turning, she saw
Nance Barton, dressed in tennis costume and
carrying a racket. Her cheeks were glowing as
a result of her recent exercise, and she walked
with the easy grace of one whose muscles have
free play. It was almost as though she had come
in obedience to the wave of a fairy wand.
As Beth went to meet her, her eyes expressed
an even more cordial welcome than her words.
"Oh, Nance !" she exclaimed heartily, "I am so
glad to see you !"
For a moment, the latter appeared a little taken
aback, as though she had not expected such a
warm greeting.
"I came over to see if you would be at home
this evening," she said.
"Why, I 'm at home now," answered Elizabeth.
"I 'm at home all the time, Nance."
Elizabeth looked wistfully at the tennis racket,
but Nance misinterpreted the glance. Remem-
bering Elizabeth's aversion to the game, she felt
called upon to make an explanation, and said :
"I 've been playing with Miss Jerome."
"We have a very good court at The Towers,"
answered Elizabeth.
"I know you have," nodded Nance ; "I saw it
as I came by. I wish you knew how to play,
Beth."
"So do I," answered Elizabeth.
"You— you do? You really do?"
"Oh, Nance, you don't know how much !"
Elizabeth exclaimed, taking her hand impulsively.
I
1912.]
THE LADY OF THE LANE
647
"But—" said Nance, hesitating, "but I thought— "
"That I 'd rather sit on the side-lines and look
on ? That 's what I told you, was n't it ?" and
for a second Elizabeth lowered her eyes.
"Somehow I never could believe you meant it
—that you were in earnest," answered Nance.
"And I was n't," Elizabeth
confessed, lifting her head.
"Perhaps I thought I was
then, but I know now I was
n't. I 'm ashamed of myself,
and I want to make up for it
if I can. I want to do things ;
I want to do everything."
"I understand, Beth !"
"I don't suppose you 'd
want to play with me?"
"I 'd love to, Beth."
"But, you know, I can't
play at all — yet."
"But it 's in you," Nance
declared. "Do you remem-
ber when I played Miss Win-
throp?"
Elizabeth nodded. She re-
membered the whole episode,
and was not proud of her
part in it.
"I saw you watching me
during the last set," went on
Nance. "And I knew then
that if you were in my place,
you 'd have won that match."
"I know that I wanted you
to win," answered Elizabeth,
with a laugh. "Oh, Nance !
if you were only going to be
here all summer."
"I am !" answered Nance.
"You are n't going away ?"
"No. It was decided to-
day. Father can't leave, and
so we 're going to try camp-
ing out in the city this sum-
mer. Mother says we must."
"Then do you mean to say — "
"I '11 play with you every
day if you wish — yes, every day all summer long."
With an eager, glad cry, Elizabeth seized her
friend's hand.
"Would you like to go up to the court now?"
Nance asked.
"It— it seems too good to be true," Elizabeth
laughed nervously. "It won't take me a minute to
get into my tennis shoes. Come in with me, Nance ?"
Elizabeth led the way into the little house, and
Nance followed, a little curiously perhaps.
"Mrs. Trumbull," Elizabeth called, "I 'm going
to play tennis !"
Mrs. Trumbull came out with some sewing in her
hands, andher spectacles shoved upon her forehead.
"Well," she observed, "I don't see 's that 's
anything to get so excited about. Is it, Beth ?"
NANCE RETURNED TH
WITHIN ELIZABETH'S
E BALLS
REACH."
"Nance is to teach me, and she 's going to be
here all summer."
"Well! well! well!" replied Mrs. Trumbull.
"I don't believe any one would go away if they
had such a nest as yours, Beth," declared Nance,
who had been looking around with surprise and
interest at the cheerful, sun-lighted little room.
"You like it?" Elizabeth asked eagerly.
"It 's like a great big playhouse," answered
Nance. "I should think you 'd love caring for it."
648
THE LADY OF TH1
There was a note of wistfulness in Nance's
voice that surprised Elizabeth. She had thought
the latter despised housekeeping and all indoor
tasks.
"I did n't at first," Elizabeth admii. J:, "but
now — I guess I like doing everything."
A few minutes later, the girls were at the court,
and Elizabeth had taken her position as jauntily
as Nance herself. She won the serve, and as a
result of her keen observation and knack of imi-
tation, so aped the form of a good player, that
when she tossed up the ball and swooped down
upon it with her racket, as she had seen Nance
do a hundred times, the latter came up on her
toes as though preparing for the attack of an
expert. The ball, however, instead of speeding
over the net and dropping to the inner court,
flew off at an angle, as high and flighty as the
dart of a barn-swallow.
"Oh, dear !" cried Elizabeth, "that is n't where
I aimed it."
"You 're playing too hard," Nance cautioned
her. "You must begin easy."'
"But I don't want to play a lady's game ; I want
to play a man's game," said Elizabeth.
"It 's sureness that counts, whichever game you
play," Nance returned. "I would n't try at first
to do anything but get the ball in the court."
Somewhat reluctantly Elizabeth obeyed the ad-
vice, and dropped the ball lightly into the court.
Acting upon impulse, Nance bore down upon it
and made so swift a return that Elizabeth merely
stood in her tracks and watched the ball speed
past her.
"There !" she gasped. "You see what happens
when I serve you easy ones."
"I ought n't to have hit it so hard," Nance
laughed in apology. "But honestly, Beth, you
look like such a good player, that, for a moment,
I really forgot you are only just beginning."
After this, Nance ro* irned the balls within
F'izabeth's reach, and, considering everything,
Jig latter did very well. Try as hard as she
might, however, Elizabeth could not forget the
hurniliraiing fact that Nance did not find it in the
least necessary to exert herself. But this did not
vex her. It had rather the wholesome effect of
strengthening her resolution.
At the end of an hour, the two returned to the
little house by the lane, where they found that
Mrs. Trumbull had made for them a pitcher of
cool lemonade. She served with this some of
Elizabeth's cake.
"Beth can do better than this," she explained,
"but I don't think it 's anything to be ashamed of
as it is."
"I 'm afraid I did n't get quite sugar enough in
it," said Elizabeth, with the tendency of a good
cook to undervalue her own production.
Nance tasted of it and gave her verdict in-
stantly :
"It 's delicious."
Then she added, with some hesitation :
"Beth, could you — do you suppose— oh, Beth,
would you mind trying to teach me how to cook?"
"You !" exclaimed Elizabeth.
"I — I 'd like to learn."
"I '11 teach you all I know," cried Elizabeth.
"And then Mrs. Trumbull will teach us both. But,
Nance — I wonder how it happened that we never
knew each other before?"
It was after Nance had left and Beth and Mrs.
Trumbull were back in the front room that Eliza-
beth turned impulsively to the latter.
"Aunty Trumbull," she exclaimed, "I 'm be-
ginning to love the little house by the lane !"
Mrs. Trumbull beamed down upon the girl.
"It shows all over you," she answered. "And
it shows all over the house, too."
(To be continued.)
WAITING FOR THE SHOWER TO PASS.
BOOKS AND READING
BYHILDEGARDE Ha. I'HORNE
STORIES OF TWO VANISHED NATIONS
Some rainy day when hardly any book seems
good enough to make up for the disappointment
of not being allowed to get outdoors, suppose you
try reading one of Prescott's histories, either the
"Conquest of Peru" or the "Conquest of Mexico."
I think it won't be long before you have forgotten
all about the weather, as you travel back on those
delightful pages to a world that has vanished, a
people that has died, a civilization picturesque
and wonderful in the extreme, but, like a burst
soap-bubble, gone with all its radiance and its
beauty.
Few, indeed, are the histories written as these
are, with such a vivid life to them, so that all the
characters are real to you : the proud Incas, the
Aztec rulers, the gentle Peruvians and fiercer
Mexicans, the desperately brave but all too cruel
Spaniards, with their leaders, Cortes and Pizarro,
those two great conquistadors mad after gold and
careless of danger, who swept the countries they
invaded from end to end with death and deso-
lation.
You will find these histories to be as full of
breathless interest as any tale of adventure or
romance written by Stevenson or Scott, for
rarely have these delightful qualities been so com-
bined as they were in these amazing conquests,
v/here the old world overflowed into the new,
but a new in name alone, for no one can tell how
many centuries had gone to the making of the
Peruvian and Aztec nations, to the building of
those splendid palaces, cities, roads, and aque-
ducts, or the development of the arts and sciences
and the strange forms of worship and of govern-
ment. Many hundreds of them— that, at least, is
certain— perhaps as many as had gone to the mak-
ing of Spain. Unluckily the records left by these
Western civilizations were few and almost unin-
telligible to their conquerors, so that the past of
these wonderful peoples is lost in fog and dark-
ness, fragments only of their history and their
achievements surviving among the shattered tem-
ples and ruined towns,— the work of their hands,
—fragments wonderful and interesting that make
us long for more.
But before speaking further of these two en-
chanting books, I want to give you some little
idea of the man who wrote them. He was odd in
some ways, but of singular courage, simplicity,
Vol. XXXIX. -82. 649
and determination, a man not to be deterred from
following his intention, a reticent man, confiding
little of his hopes, his labors, or his sufferings to
any one.
In his youth he was the friend of Marion
Crawford's mother, and Crawford's sister, in her
volume of reminiscences, tells some amusing
things about the strange boy.
It seems that for over ten years Prescott was
considered by his family to be a hopeless idler.
Apparently he had no ambition or purpose in life,
he kept almost entirely to himself, and he said
nothing in reply to the criticisms made upon him.
"Don't sit locked up in your library all day
long, eating soap," they would cry, in desperation.
For the only thing ever seen on Prescott's table
besides the ink-well was a cake of soap, at which
he constantly nibbled, asserting that, in his opin-
ion, people ought to be clean inside as well as out.
But Prescott continued to keep his own counsel,
never letting any one into his study unless he
were sitting quite idle, keeping all his papers
locked up in the deep drawers— and then, finally,
his first great historic work appeared, to the ad-
miration of the world, and the tables were turned.
But besides these rather trying characteristics,
trying, at least, to an anxious and flustered fam-
ily, Prescott had a fund of enduring courage and
dogged persistence not found except among the
truly great. For he suffered from almost total
blindness, having lost one eye in an injury in
early youth, and spending many years without
being able to see at all, though the other eye had
periods when it partially recovered its powers.
When you remember that all his writing was, of
course, based on manuscripts and documents
gathered up from many sources and printed or
written in many languages, you can imagine what
a terrible handicap this misfortune was to him.
After the failure of his second eye, he had to
work through a secretary, who read to him for
hours at a time, Prescott the while taking quan-
tities of notes by means of a sort of writing-ma-
chine made for the blind. This machine he al-
ways used, for though, at times, he was able to
read print as long as daylight lasted, he found
more difficulty in writing, and he could not read
manuscript. When his history of Ferdinand and
Isabella was written and ready for the last re-
vision, he felt that to do this properly he must
read it himself, instead of having it read to him.
650
BOOKS AND READING
[May,
So he had a single copy printed, and made his
alterations and corrections on that. This will
give you a notion of how thoroughgoing he was.
His secretary was obliged to read his notes to him
over and over, while he worked out his chapters;
and as his writing was very hard to decipher,
this was a slow task.
But he never complained of all this hardship.
On the contrary, he wrote a preface to his his-
tory of Peru in which he explained his methods
of work, saying that he had heard that he was re-
ported to be blind, while on many days he was
really fortunate enough to be able to see in a
good light. He seemed to want no sympathy, as-
serting that he had no such difficulties to contend
with as the world supposed, speaking in the most
cheerful manner, even when he admitted that he
could not long count upon even the little sight he
then possessed.
It is an inspiring record, that life of Prescott,
one that puts a glow into your heart, as heroism
always does. And I think you will read his won-
derful and exciting books with all the more in-
terest when you know under what a strain they
were produced. The books themselves give no
hint of this ; they read as easily as though each
sentence had flowed of itself from the ink-well on
that big, empty table. Picture after picture, splen-
did with color and motion, is painted for you in
words of an unforgetable clearness. Surely the
writer loved his topic, and was happy in his work.
Besides the charm of Prescott's style, he had a
fine discrimination, and was most just and un-
prejudiced in his opinions and conclusions. His
chief desire is to set things down with truth. The
men whose characters he portrays appear on the
page as they must have been in life, with their
faults and their virtues— the Incas with their
lofty and silent acceptance of whatever fate sent;
Cortes, that mighty captain, with his genius, his
immense endurance of hardship, his cruel spirit.
Pizarro, who, on an earlier expedition under Bal-
boa, had been one of the handful of white men
who first gazed upon the Pacific, is shown with all
his fierce and dangerous qualities, as well as in
his finer moments. Bad he was, and bad his end,
for he was murdered by his own people, and
buried hurriedly by the few friends left him —
buried in the dead of night, for fear of outrage,
with no one, as the old chronicle says, to say,
"God forgive him." Prescott calls him a "by-
word for perfidy." He cheated every one, friend
and foe, caring nothing for any promise, how-
ever sacred, and he disgusted every one. Yet
there was some good in the man, and what there
was Prescott shows us, as well as the training
and environment which made him what he was.
But it is not alone the tale of the invading
Spaniards and their new order that is told in
these bewitching histories. They also contain a
great deal about the strange nations as they were
before ever a white man came to conquer and
ruin them.
The Peruvian government was remarkable in
several ways. There was no such thing as a
beggar, or any one without enough to live upon,
in the whole country. Neither were there any
very rich people. The laws did not permit it, and
each man, woman, and child was taken care of
by the government, given their work, told whom
to marry, where to live— treated as a father
might treat his young children, in fact. You see,
though no one was allowed to suffer, no one was
permitted to have a will of his own, either. Not
a soul drew a free breath except the Inca, who
was supposed to be descended from the sun
(which was worshiped by the Peruvians) ; and
so he was believed to be half divine. Although
they were great fighters, the Peruvians were
gentle and always mindful of human life, taking
wonderful care of their soldiers when in the field,
and inducing conquered races to become citizens
as soon as possible, much as the Romans did in
their time.
Great public works were carried through too.
Splendid roads, hundreds, even thousands, of
miles long, were made, chasms being filled with
solid masonry and bridges swung over dizzy
canyons and swift rivers, these bridges being hung
on cables made of a particularly tough osier.
On these roads posts were established short dis-
tances apart, and runners were kept ready to take
messages, fruits and viands for the Inca's table,
war notes and signs, anything a man could carry
easily, from one end of the country to the other.
These posts traveled a hundred and fifty miles a
day when necessary, while the closest communi-
cation between the capital and the most distant
villages was maintained by their aid. This same
system was in force in Mexico, although the two
nations had no knowledge of each other, and both
countries were far ahead of Europe in this re-
spect.
There is one thing especially that makes Pres-
cott excellent reading, and that is the story in-
terest. He always makes you realize that the life
and death of nations, with the extraordinary
changes which have occurred in the world, are
more marvelous than any imaginary tale. The
past was warm and alive to him, as it was to our
other great historian, Motley, who lived at the
same time as Prescott. Almost one might fancy
that these two men had discovered some magic
spell which allowed them to slip back in time as
1912.]
BOOKS AND READING
651
far as they chose, to live with vanished peoples
and see with their own eyes the men and the
deeds they wanted to describe; much as the chil-
dren in Kipling's "Puck o' Pook's Hill" stories
are supposed to have done. Anyhow, when you
were also beautiful and interesting, cultured and
artistic. They ruthlessly destroyed these peoples,
with their splendid cities, their cultivated lands,
their palaces and temples, killing and burning
wherever opposed in their mad search for gold.
WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT.
read the books of either, you certainly feel as
though you were right on the spot, looking on at
a world different, indeed, from the one we live in
nowadays.
There are sad, there are terrible things told in
the two "Conquests," for the world has done
much wrong and gone through much suffering on
its slow and painful march to our time. To-day,
even, the nations are still capable of war and
bloodshed, after the long centuries of gradual
improvement ; so we are not surprised to find
dark and cruel deeds in a true record of olden
times. Cortes and Pizarro invaded countries fair
and flourishing, living happily enough under civil-
izations that may have been barbaric, but which
The civilization that exists there to-day was laid
on the hot ashes of two races who had attained
a wonderful development, coming from no one
knows just where, enduring no one knows how
long, mysterious as a dream, and as utterly swept
away.
And yet, in spite of the sadness of the stories,
they are also a record of marvelous fortitude
and desperate courage, of an unyielding deter-
mination in the face of amazing dangers, of
many a fine and noble action. And though they
are true, they are more full of romance and ad-
venture than any wild west or wild east yarn that
ever was spun by a teller of tales or listened to by
eager boy or girl.
FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
By permission of C. W. Faulkner & Co., Ltd., London, E. C, England, owners of the copyright.
WHAT HAPPENED TO BETTY AND POLLY
Every year, when the apple-trees put on their pink-and-white spring dresses,
Betty and Polly went to Uncle John's farm for a long visit.
Betty and Polly were just the same age and the same size, and each had blue
eyes and red lips that parted very often to let a bubbly laugh come through.
But Betty's hair was curly and brown, and Polly's hair was curly and yellow; if
you did n't notice this, it was hard to tell which was Betty and which was Polly.
Each morning they went together and fed the chickens, and then Betty went
to feed the pigeons and Polly went to feed the ducks. The chickens soon grew
used to them, and would come and take the grains of corn from their hands. But
the ducks and the pigeons were shy, and always waited until Betty and Polly had
gone away before they would come and eat the breakfast that had been brought
to them. Betty and Polly often wished they were as tame as the chickens.
But one warm day, as Brown Wing, the mother duck, was floating about in
the shade of the bridge with her three little ducklings, Downy and Fluffy and
Topsy, she said to them: " Duckie dears, that seems to be a very kind little girl
who brings you such a nice breakfast every morning. I think it would be quite
652
FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
653
safe, and much better manners, for you to meet her politely when she comes
instead of waiting for her to go away before you eat the food she brings you."
Just then one of the pigeons was flying by and perched on the bridge for a
moment, in time to overhear what Brown Wing was saying ; the pigeon turned
this over in his mind and decided she was quite right, so he flew back home and
told the rest of the pigeon family, and all agreed that the idea did her credit.
The next morning Polly pattered down the garden path to the brook to watch
the little ducks for a few minutes. As soon as they saw her, Downy and Fluffy
and Topsy paddled toward her as fast as they could. Then they scrambled up
the stone steps to where Polly sat, quacking and stretching their necks to see
what she had brought them for breakfast. And then, while Polly, who could
scarcely believe her eyes, held the dish, they ate up everything in it.
At the same time, Betty had carried the dish of corn and crumbs to the low
bench beside the rain-water barrel, where she could look up at the pigeons in
their house on top of the pole.
The pigeons stood in their tiny doorways watching her, cocking their heads
from side to side. Then one very brave pigeon flew down and perched on the
bench. As Betty did not move, two more flew down, and began to eat the crumbs
from the dish ; and then, best of all, Silver, the prettiest pigeon, spread his white
wings, and came and picked the crumbs from Betty's hand.
As soon as their dishes were empty, Betty ran to find Polly, and Polly ran to
find Betty, to tell each other the wonderful things that had happened to them.
Nora Bennett.
By permission of C. W. Faulkner & Co., Ltd., London, E. C, England, owners of the copyright.
Nature and Science^
v - / '/
ANIMALS AT PLAY
"The faculty of amusement comes early in ani-
mals given to play," writes the author of "Ani-
mals at Work and Play," and he adds, "Many
animals make it part of their maternal duty to
amuse their young. Even a ferret will play with
her ferocious little kittens, just as a cat will with
hers."
The same author very interestingly describes
the game of "I 'm the King of the Castle," as he
DOGS ARE COMIC AND PERSISTENT WRESTLERS.
saw it played by some lambs. One lamb mounted
a pile of straw and rubbish, and immediately his
LAMBS PLAYING "KING OF THE CASTLE
AND "STEEPLECHASE."
comrades "stormed" his castle, and tried to push
him from his stronghold. The one that suc-
ceeded had a chance to defend the position as the
former one had done, and the performance was
kept up until all were tired out. A steeplechase
was another exciting amusement. In this they
jumped over a row of old feed boxes as they
ran back and forth across the barn-yard.
For genuine amusement in the home, select two
well-matched kittens and set them to playing— or
they will do it without urging. The saucy "faces"
they make, with ears turned back, as they wait to
close in with each other, are very amusing. It
seems strange that they can keep such serious
faces themselves while carrying on such funny
performances. But we must remember that all
their quick attacks and stealthy actions while at
play are training them for more serious business
in later life.
Dogs get a great deal of exercise in their play,
but they are not so sly nor so graceful as mem-
bers of the cat family. My dog has "killed"
many a rag while playing at rat-catching. Dogs
seem to obtain great enjoyment from their play.
Their capers with a stick thrown for them to
bring back from the land or the water have
amused many a small master.
Little pigs play with as much vigor and dex-
terity as any animals that I have ever seen ; but
later in life, this capacity entirely disappears.
While some young animals enjoy playing with
654
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
655
one another, there are others which seem to
prefer to play alone. So far as I have observed,
young rabbits are of this latter class. Many times
I have seen young rabbits amuse themselves by
suddenly starting off from where they were nib-
A YOUNG PIG OFTEN GENTLY BITES ANOTHER S
EARS — "JUST TO MAKE HIM SQUEAL!"
bling grass, and going "like lightning" for ten or
more feet, then, with a sharp turn, come back
t ■;'
' *
YOUNG RABBITS ARE FOND OF FROLICS.
will stop and listen. Then they shoot off again
and turn themselves in the air with a kick of the
hind feet as they skim over the ground.
I think few have looked into the barn-yard
where fowls are found, without having seen
several comical actions which could come under
no other heading than that of play. It would
seem that the young chickens were trying to make
themselves "cross-eyed" by looking steadily at
LAMBS COMBINE "FOLLOW THE LEADER" AND
"RING AROUND A-ROSY."
with a leap in the air, and snap about again for
another run in another direction. Suddenly they
each other at close quarters, or, with heads jerk-
ing up and down in a lively manner, were trying
to stare each other out of countenance.
In the Zoo, the bear cubs tussle with each
other, and the polar bears wrestle while standing
in their pool, three feet deep, or try to see how
long one can hold another under the water. The
graceful but grotesque gnu, in performing his an-
tics, cuts up the ground of his yard with his sharp
hoofs. He runs about his inclosure with great
656
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[May,
BEARS ARE FOND OF REAL AND
BELIEVE" WRESTLING.
rapidity, turning sharply, and digging the earth
at each quick turn as he wheels about. Monkeys
are, of course, the master players at the Zoo.
The ostrich dances about with wings spread and
head swinging in a laughable way.
While mentioning the play of birds, the author
of "Animals at Work and Play" says, "Tame
ll
THE OSTRICH DANCES IN A LAUGHABLE MANNER.
rooks often go through an elaborate perform-
ance of 'killing' a biscuit before eating it, and
tame sea-gulls play a game with sticks and stones,
throwing them into the air and catching them in
their beaks just as they would a fish."
There seems to be an inborn desire for active
movement in most creatures, and by such motions
they get healthful exercise as well as amusement.
Advanced thinkers on hygiene tell us that the
most recreative exercise for human beings may
be had in play. This active movement, when
mind and muscle are both engaged, brings to
> fk&
-. r. ■
MlMtPM:.
COMIC COMBAT OF HALF-GROWN CHICKENS.
both body and mind greater benefit than can be
had from any other form of recreation. Nature
long ago taught her humbler creatures this, but
we have been slow to learn the lesson.
Harry B. Bradford.
BIRDS NESTING IN NOISY PLACES
Many birds that are shy and retiring in other
respects, show very little fear of the creaking
and groaning of heavy machinery, or the thun-
derous roar of heavy trains. I recall reading
some years ago of a pair of courageous little
sparrows that started a nest at one end of a large
turn-table in a roundhouse. This turn-table was
the same at both ends, and the birds built two
nests— one on each end, working one day on one
end, and the next day on the other, as the turn-
table was reversed. Here, in the midst of din
and confusion, they finally selected one of the
nests, and raised a happy brood of young.
In the western States, the mourning-dove is
wild enough to be considered a game-bird, yet
the accompanying picture shows the frail nest of
a dove with its two delicate, white eggs, resting
on the sloping side of a railroad grade, and
barely three feet from the rails over which a
dozen heavy trains thundered every day. Less
than a mile from this nest, was the nest of a pin-
tail—the wildest and wariest of all wild ducks—
within eighteen feet of the rails; and the mother
duck, as she brooded her eleven great clay-
:gi2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
657
colored eggs, could no doubt feel the rush of
air and the tremor of the ground as the great
iron monsters roared by.
The king-bird is a bird that seems to delight in
the activities of man. One of their nests was
built in the framework of a railroad mail-crane
standing four feet back from the rails, at a deso-
late little way-station. Here the lonely postmas-
ter came each day and hung the mail-sack, and as
the fast train rushed past, it roughly grasped the
sack from the crane ; yet, notwithstanding the
postmaster's daily visits and the fast train's noisy
interruption, Mr. and Mrs. King-bird persisted
in building their home, and, after the four beau-
's:
THE FRAIL NEST OF A DOVE ABOUT THREE FEET
FROM THE RAILROAD TRACK.
tifully spotted, cream-colored eggs were hatched,
rearing their young in this peculiar location.
I remember another king-bird's nest built on
the edge of a water-tank, where the thirsty en-
gines belched forth great clouds of black, sooty
smoke which must have almost suffocated the
patient little mother bird in the nest. Yet another
pair of king-birds built their nest between the two
diagonal braces of a large farm gate, barely five
Vol. XXXIX.— 83.
A KING-BIRD S NEST IN THE FRAMEWORK OF
A MAIL-CRANE.
feet above the ground, but, although the gate
swung back and forth many times each day, and
horses, cattle, and men were continually within
a few feet of the nest, the brave little mother
AltER VIEW OF THE NEST
THE FRAMEWORK.
was never molested, and raised four lu
ones without accident. — Robert B. Roc
sty young
KWELL.
658
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[May,
A CAT MOTHER'S GOSLINGS
A cat in Hannibal, Missouri, has adopted five
goslings as her family. She tries to keep them
warm, and gives them as careful attention as
THE CAT IN A PAN WITH GOSLINGS.
she would give her own kittens. Every evening
she gets them together in a pan, where they stay,
as shown in the illustration. It is a strange fact
that when a cat's kittens are taken from her, the
mother instinct turns teward almost any available
young. There are many examples of a cat's hav-
ing adopted chickens, squirrels, and even rats.
The photograph was forwarded by F. L. Kelley,
President of the Hannibal Humane Society, and
we are using it through the courtesy of "Our
Dumb Animals," Boston, Massachusetts.
HORN-CARVING
The horns of cattle have from the earliest known
times been utilized in various ways, sometimes
as trumpets, drinking-horns, powder-horns, and,
in former times, as inkholders.
In the Viking age, from the second to the
twelfth century, horns were used as war trumpets
and as drinking vessels. They were highly orna-
mented with carvings representing war and do-
mestic scenes. A good illustration of them may
be found in "The Viking Age," by Paul B.
DuChaillu, Vol. I, page 242. That they were so
used long before the Christian era, there is con-
vincing evidence.
The powder-horn has played an important part
in the history of this country. During the Revo-
lutionary War, the powder-horns were not carved,
but were engraved or etched. Some were thus
ornamented by expert engravers, but most of
them by the soldiers who made them. History
says that there were ten thousand in use during
the war, but this must be a mistake, as more
would be required, since every man had one.
Some bore unique inscriptions, some had maps
of the country, or figures of fish, deer, birds, and
other animals.
Horn-carving may be made a work of art equal
HORN-CARVING.
From the top downward: Miles Standish landing at Weymouth on
his expedition against the Indians. Scene from an expedition over
the Rocky Mountains in 1864. A deer hunt. A fanciful piece (at
bottom). Cuckoo sounding horn (at left).
HORN-CARVING.
Cats in a flower garden. Chanticleers. A fox hunt.
to ivory-carving. A finely carved ox-horn is
worth from five to ten, or even twenty-five, dol-
lars.
The old-time New England ox-horns, such as
the soldiers of the Revolution carried, are now
hard to find. We must get them from the western
stock-yards if we want large ones. Cow-horns
will do for beginners in carving, but even they
are getting scarce, as so many cows are being
dehorned.
To prepare a horn for carving or engraving,
the best way is to file the entire surface (it may
be scraped with a piece of glass or a sharp knife),
then sandpaper it smooth, so that you can draw
on the surface any design that you want. You
may first polish it, if you like, with pumice-stone
and water, followed by chalk or whiting and
1912.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
659
water. Then rub, rub, rub. It will take two
hours to give a horn a good polish.
For engraving, use ordinary engraver's tools.
For cameo carving or raised work, use fine Swiss
carving-tools. Common gouges and chisels will
do, but the finer tools hold their cutting edge
longer and better.
Horn is in a class by itself. There is nothing
just like it. Few acids will affect it. It can be
stained by potash and red lead, which is used to
produce the tortoise-shell effect on some combs.
Many think that horns must be softened in order
to carve them. This is a mistake. They can be
softened only by a high degree of heat, either
dry or moist, but they will remain soft for not
more than ten minutes.
In carving horn one must cut away all except
the figure that one wishes to represent. This is
slow, hard work. Engraving is much easier, but
not so artistic. T. S. Hitchcock, M.D.S.
A CARROT HAND
The photograph of a hand-shaped carrot was
sent by Mr. E. Kay Robinson of London, Eng-
A PIECE OF WOOD RESEMBLING A SNAKE
THE CARROT THAT GREW IN THE FORM OF A HAND.
land, who says the carrot was dug up in the
garden of an inn called "The Hand." This inn,
by a remarkable coincidence, has as its sign the
upright red hand familiar in baronets' coats of
arms. Mr. Robinson supposes that the growing-
point of the carrot had been injured, or perhaps
obstructed, and that it then formed five secon-
dary, finger-like branches. It is an interesting
example of a freak of nature.
Here is the photograph of a piece of wood that,
at first glance, looks much like a snake. The end
of the stick is remarkable in its close resemblance
to the snake's head. It was found by Mr. Walter
E. Boyd, Red Bank, New Jersey, while he was
strolling in the woods.
A STRANGE DRESS FOR TREES
Edith Whitmore, Bedford, England, sends to
"Nature and Science" an interesting photograph
of trees that have been sewed up in cloth. She
explains that they needed to be protected in this
manner from the locusts that come in great num-
bers. The covering is said to be effective, but it
gives the trees a very odd appearance. The "hop-
pers," as the locusts are called, attack nearly all
kinds of plants and trees, and often destroy every
green leaf. In the morning or in the evening they
are easily driven, and many are then destroyed in
various ways. The photograph was taken on an
estate in the Argentine Republic.
TREES COVERED WITH CLOTH.
660
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[May,
^"BECAUSE WE
[WANT TO KNOW"
WHY REPEATEDLY BENDING A WIRE MAKES IT HOT
OSSINING, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas : Will you please tell me why it is
that when you bend a piece of wire back and forth for a
while it becomes hot?
One of your devoted readers,
Katherine Lewis.
The "energy" expended in bending the wire
appears as heat. A similar result is obtained by
hammering a wire, or other piece of metal, or by
rubbing it briskly.
Heat is a form of motion (see Tyndall's book
on this subject), and the motion used in bending
the wire is changed into this other form of motion
called heat. We believe that this heat is due to a
rapid motion (vibration) of the particles (mole-
cules) of which the metal is composed. These
molecules and their motion are far too small to
be seen.— H. L. W.
KITTENS AND CATS SHOULD BE CAREFULLY
HANDLED
New York City.
Dear St. Nicholas: You would do me a great favor if
you could tell me whether it is true that "cats have nine
lives." We had a kitten ; it was three weeks old. A
little boy friend let it drop out of a third-story window.
It seemed not to be injured at all.
From your interested reader,
Marieli Benziyer (age 12).
Decidedly no. The little boy who let the kitten
fall from a third-story window, as I understand
from the letter that he did, was a very careless
little boy indeed, and it was only a lucky chance
for the kitten that it was not hurt. Cats and
kittens are very tender, delicate things, easily
hurt, and very subject to nervous shock, but sel-
dom showing the full extent of their suffering to
a chance observer. I have known cats to come
through terrible experiences apparently unhurt,
but die of the effects weeks after.— Jane R.
Cathcart.
sunshine and sneezing
Kenwood, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas : My baby sister just loves to sit
out on the grass, but Mother always turns her back to
the sun because she says that it makes her sneeze if the
sun shines in her eyes. Can you tell me why this is?
Your devoted reader,
Adele Noyes.
A certain nerve sends one branch to the inner
parts of the eye, and a second branch to the lin-
ing of the nose. The strong light irritates the
nerve branch in the eye, and by what is called
"reflex action,"— that is, an action over which
we have no control,— the irritation seems to be
conveyed to the branch in the nose, and makes us
sneeze. To tell why the effect is produced would
call for a long lecture on anatomy and physiology.
The nerve in the eye sometimes becomes so sen-
sitive through disease that ordinary daylight, or
even the light of a lamp, will make the patient
sneeze. — A. C. S.
THE EYE ADAPTS ITSELF TO THE QUANTITY OF LIGHT
Rochester, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas : Please explain to me why my
kitten's eyeballs are sometimes round, and then shaped
somewhat like a cigar, in the second case being parallel
with her nose.
Your constant reader,
Lawrence Greene (age 13^2).
The shape of the eyeballs cannot change. Any
alteration must be in the form of the opening be-
tween the eyelids, caused by a movement of the
lids themselves. But when you refer to the eye-
ball, you probably mean the pupil, or what. ap-
pears to be a little black spot on the front of the
eye. This changes its form by the movement of
the iris, the colored part of the eye, which ex-
pands in dimly lighted places and contracts when
looking at a bright or very intense light. In man,
the pupil is naturally circular; in the cat, it is
naturally long, narrow, and upright, and under
the influence of the light may become somewhat
cigar-shaped and parallel with the nose. It is
impossible for the ball of the eye to become
altered as you describe. — A. C. S.
A RAINBOW MAY BE IN THE WEST
Walloon Lake, Mich.
Dear St. Nicholas : I have for some time wanted to
know why the rainbow is always seen in the east, and
usually in the evening.
The other morning one of the people around here called
my attention to a "wonderful rainbow in the west." I
could not see that it was wonderful, but I asked, and the
reply was that the rainbow very rarely is seen in the
west ; but no one could tell me why.
Your affectionate reader,
Marcei.line Hemingway.
The rainbow is produced by the reflection of
sunbeams by falling raindrops. We must look
toward the raindrops in order to see the reflected
rainbow, and not toward the sun, which must be
behind us. In the afternoon, when summer
thunder-storms occur, the sun is west of us ;
therefore, we turn our backs to the sun, and see
the rainbow east of us. We can see a rainbow
in the west when thunder-storms occur in the
morning,— that is, in the west while the sun is in
the east.— Willis L. Moore, Chief U. S. Weather
Bureau, Washington, D. C.
I9I2-]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
661
GLOBULES ON THE INSIDE OF A GLASS
CONTAINING WATER
Dear St. Nicholas : Can you tell me why little drops
of what looks like salt gather on the inside of a glass
of water? I have often watched water in a glass, and
it always gets those little drops.
Your interested reader,
Catherine Johnson.
The formation of tiny bubbles on the inside of
the glass is explained by Professor H. L. Wells
as follows :
Water dissolves the gases of the atmosphere (other-
wise fishes could not live in it), and the colder the
A CAT'S EYES NOT ALIKE
Dear St. Nicholas : Will you please tell me why the
eyes of some cats differ from each other in color. Is
it a disease or are they born like that ? At the school
where I was we found a little kitten which had one
very light blue eye, and the other was a greenish
brown.
Your loving reader,
Otis Brown.
In reply to the letter regarding "odd-eyed" cats
and kittens, I am glad to tell you that this condi-
tion is not a disease, many kittens, especially
white ones, being born with this peculiarity.—
Jane R. Cathcart.
©V
•*•> ©«</
o.. o
J o o $ o • % ^O
° • • f ° •
GLOBULES OF AIR ON THE GLASS ON THE INSIDE
OF AN AQUARIUM.
water the more of these gases, chiefly oxygen and
nitrogen, are dissolved. So that when cold water which
has taken up air is warmed, some of this gas usually
appears as bubbles.
Therefore, whenever water which is saturated with
air is heated, gases are given off. These gases may go
off invisibly when the warming is slow, by evaporating
at the surface ; but when the warming is more rapid,
bubbles of gas collect on the walls of the containing
vessel, or may rise up through the water.
If you watch fresh water heating in a kettle, a great
many bubbles of gas will be seen rising, and they get
larger as the water approaches the boiling point, as then
the gases contain much water vapor. Finally, when
boiling begins, all the gases are removed, and after a
short time, pure steam comes off.
If cold, fresh water has been left standing in a warm
room for some time, the gas bubbles often form inside
the glass as the water gradually becomes warmer. The
bubbles sometimes look bright from reflection, so that
they might be compared to salt in appearance.
EMPTY ROBIN'S EGGS IN A NEST IN WINTER
New York City, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas : Yesterday my brother and I were
out walking, when we found a robin's nest. It was in
a shrub three feet from the ground, and had three eggs
in it. We were surprised that a robin should be nesting
at this time of the year. When we looked at the eggs,
we saw that there was a hole in each one, and that they
were empty. As there were several cracked nuts lying
near the eggs, we think that a chipmunk, or squirrel,
must have robbed the nest. But how could the eggs
keep such a long time without breaking? They were so
near the road that any one could have seen the nest.
Will you kindly tell me how late the robin nests?
Your interested reader,
Gladys E. Livermore (age 12).
The work of red squirrels no doubt. Egg-shells
often remain in nests until the following spring.
-C. W. B.
TO SEE THE STARS IN THE DAYTIME
Los Angeles, Cal.
Dear St. Nicholas : I have been told that if one is in a
deep well, or looks through a long tube, or a pipe, he is
able to see the stars in the daytime. I have never had
an opportunity to try the experiment, and I would like
to know if this is so. Do you see the same stars you see
at night? If you do, do the stars turn around with the
earth? This has puzzled me quite a little, and I shall
be very grateful to know.
Your interested reader,
Helen L. Knapp.
Stars are in the sky in the daytime as well as
at night. The only reason why we cannot see
them by day is on account of the glare of the sky
illuminated by the sun. Very little of this glare
would be cut off by go'ing down a well, and, con-
sequently, we would be able to see from a well
only the very brightest stars. For several days,
at certain times, Venus is so bright that it can
be readily seen during the daytime with the naked
eye, if one knows just where to look for it. By
means of a telescope, one can see the bright stars
in the daytime.
Stars rise and set like the sun and moon, and
for the same reason, because the earth is rotating
on its axis. There are stars in every direction
from the earth. — S. A. M.
Of the contributions in prose and verse this month, those
that well deserved to be printed would fill almost an entire
number of St. Nicholas ; and we assure the League
members named on the First Roll of Honor that their
compositions would certainly have been printed if room
could have been found, or made, for them.
Both "Spring" and "Winter" have their ardent
partizans, and this month's experience has taught the
Editor one impressive lesson : never to offer a choice of
two seasons to the League poets in a single competition!
As to "The Book That Has Helped Me Most — and
Why," it called out a response that has rarely, if ever, been
equaled in the history of the League. The essays here
printed speak for themselves, and very eloquently. But
they give hardly a hint of the variety and cleverness of the
many, many others that deserved to be placed beside them.
It was pleasant, and instructive too, to note how wide a
range of literature was covered in these contributions.
From that sacred book of books, the Bible, and from the
world-famous Shakspere, the young folk wandered afield
among the works of classic fiction, poetry, and biography,
and, naturally, among the well-known classics of child-
hood. " Little Women " led the list of favorite books of
girl-readers ; but " David Copperfield " was a close second.
Even the "Dictionary" and "Spelling Book" had their
advocates; and one clever girl admits that her "bank-
book " has " helped her most," and tells just why!
Nor must we fail to mention one tribute that has
touched us deeply, both with joy and pride, for a great
many League members have named St. Nicholas itself as
the "book" of their choice, and have rendered homage to
the magazine in beautiful and affectionate words. Modesty
forbids our awarding prizes to these offerings, welcome as
they are. But we cannot resist the temptation to show
some of them to our readers, and, in grateful appreciation,
shall give a page to them in next month's Letter-Box.
PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 147
In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.
PROSE. Gold badges, Marjorie Trotter (age 17), Toronto, Can. ; H. Hardy Heth (age 15), Montpelier, O.
Silver badges, Grace King (age 17), Toledo, O. ; Doris Longton (age 17), Keighley, Eng. ; Mary Kathryn Fagan
(age 13), Savannah, Ga. ; Jennie E. Everden (age 12), Ithaca, Mich.
VERSE. Gold badges, Marion E. Stark (age 17), Norwich, Conn. ; Marion Thanhouser (age 12), Milwaukee, Wis.
Silver badges, Eleanor E. Carroll (age 14), West New Brighton, N. Y. ; Genevieve C. Freeman (age 12), Milford,
Neb. ; Elizabeth Connolly (age 9), Palisades-on-Hudson, N. Y. ; Joyce Cook (age 16), Tiverton, Eng.
DRAWINGS. Silver badges, Charlotte Tougas (age 17), Dorchester, Mass. ; Margaret Ayer (age 14), Brooklyn,
N. Y. ; Frank L. Hayes, Jr. (age 17), Oberlin, O. ; Harold C. Lewis (age 15), Traverse City, Mich.
PHOTOGRAPHS. Silver badges, Eugenia Parker (age 17), Winchester, Mass. ; Grace E. Toole (age 17), Branford,
Conn. ; Lily A. Lewis (age 15), Bear Creek, Pa. ; Eleanor H. Verner (age 14), Wayne, Pa. ; Mary Dawson (age 12),
Newark, N. J. ; Leslie M. Burns (age 14), Cripple Creek, Colo.
PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badges, Jessica B. Noble (age 11), Hollywood, Cal. ; S. H. Ordway, Jr. (age 11), New
York City.
PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badges, William D. Woodwek (age 15), Buffalo, N. Y. ; Clara Parks (age 15), St.
Louis, Mo.
'AN EXCITING GAME. BY EUGENIA PARKER, AGE TJ.
(SILVER BADGE.)
'AN EXCITING GAME." BY GRACE E. TOOLE, AGE 17.
(SILVER BADGE.)
662
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
663
THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MO ST-
AND WHY
BY MARY KATHRYN FAGAN (AGE 1 3)
{Silver Badge)
The Bible, the book of books, has done me more good
than any other book. From beginning to end, it is
full of heroic and wonderful deeds. It is the book.
Sir Walter Scott on his death-bed said: "Bring me the
book." "What book?" asked a servant. "There is
only one book, the Bible," answered the great writer.
What boy wants any more exciting stories than of
"AT WORK." BY CHARLOTTE TOUGAS, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.)
David killing the Giant? or of Joseph being sold into
slavery by his unworthy brothers ? or a more marve-
lous one than that of the little boy's loaves and
fishes feeding the five thousand? Or what girl, any
more fascinating stories than of Mary and Martha? or
Naaman's slave-girl ? What would this country, our
country, be without this wonderful book ? We would
have — what? No churches, no colleges, no hospitals,
no art, no homes for the poor, friendless, or orphans.
And last, but not least, no books, for are not most of
our good books inspired by the Bible ? More copies
have been sold and translated into other languages than
any other book, which shows its popularity. So, dear
reader, do you not agree with me that this book, the
Bible, has done more for humanity than any other book,
for has it not taught us truth, and honesty, and all good,
and helped to make better the great world we live in ?
THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST—
AND WHY
BY MARY CARVER WILLIAMS (AGE 14)
{Honor Member)
When we consider this, subject we cannot but be a
little puzzled. Many books have helped us, each in its
"AT PLAY." BY MARGARET URATE, AGE 15.
own way; and so the question seems to be, "Which is
the best and greatest way?" As this is almost im-
possible to decide, our minds turn to follow another
avenue of thought, which is, "What book has helped
in the most ways ?"
There are many kinds of literature — novels, de-
scriptions, essays, sermons, poems, and dramas. These
are all for a purpose, and each educates us in a dif-
"AN EXCITING GAME." BY LILY A. LEWIS, AGE 15.
(SILVER BADGE.)
ferent way, or awakens a new interest. There is one
book which contains all these, and in reading it we
are impressed anew as each variety unfolds itself.
664
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[May,
■.-■."■ ':.::'": .:'::■.. : ■:>':- >M& ZSSS&tg,
BY PAULL JACOB, AGE 17.
BY ELEANOR H. VERNER, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)
BY MARY DAWSON, AGE 12. (SILVER BADGE.)
GKOSVENOR S. MC KEE, AGE 16.
2K; a '3.' a -" * ^" !
| - ■ ,'j
1 " '. !
■ . v
BY LESLIE M.
AN EXCITING GAME.
BURNS, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)
What more beautiful description than the Songs of
Solomon ? and what more impressive sermon than
Christ's sermon on the mount ? Some of the most
wonderfully melodic poems of history are found in the
Songs of David, and the greatest drama ever enacted
is the Passion Play, or the life of Christ. We cannot
think of another book which shows within its covers
wealth, poverty, love, hatred, sin, repentance, death,
and beside all these, many other phases of life dealing
with every form of character, from such a man as
Judas to The Master himself.
And so we come to the conclusion that the book
which has helped us the most is the one that has
helped us in the most ways — the Great Book — the
Book of Life — which every one may read and under-
stand, from the little child just entering into the
struggles of life to the old man waiting to enter the
"Golden Gate." Surely no more helpful book exists !
THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST—
AND WHY
BY RACHEL LYMAN FIELD (AGE I 7)
{Honor Member)
I closed the battered covers, laid the well-worn book
down, and thought of the times I had read and re-
read the dear, shabby old volume — days when spring
was transforming the world with its irresistible youth
and greenness ; when summer flowers bloomed and
birds sang ; when autumn burst forth clad in scarlet
and gold, or when snow covered the ground like a
mantle. There had been dark days, bright days, days
of rain and of sunshine, but scarcely a day that I had
not lifted my copy of "David Copperfield" from the
book shelves.
Hardly a day had passed that I had not wandered
on the beach with David and little Emily ; trudged
1912.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
665
under the stars with the lonely little boy, or smiled
and cried over Dora, who, with all her weakness, was
yet so human. I felt the awful majesty and power of
the sea when the frail boat bearing Steerforth was
wrecked. I admired Ham's bravery, hated Uriah's
deceit, or journeyed with Mr. Peggotty in his weary
search. I can see Agnes as plainly as ever David did ;
shining like a star across his path.
But whether I am sad or lonely, glad or gay, tired
or light-hearted, I always find in this book just what
I need most. It seems always to respond to my every
mood, and I laugh or cry with the dear people whom
Dickens has given to us all for friends. These are
the reasons why I say that "David Copperfield" has
helped me more than any other book.
SONNET TO SPRING
BY ISABEL M. ADAMS (AGE l6)
{Honor Member)
Season of birth and reawakening,
Symbol of all things unfulfilled and young,
Laughing, thou passest the green fields among,
Glad of thy power and loveliness, O Spring!
To the dull earth thy careless tread doth bring
New life, which courses through her age-worn veins.
Thine is the music of the fitful rains
And thine the happy song the streamlets sing.
Ripe summer's languid glory is not thine,
Nor thine the soul of autumn, wise and mild.
Victor of hoary winter ! Oh, fair child,
Passionate, wilful ! thou art passing sweet —
For in thy noble promise we divine
The poignant beauty of the incomplete.
THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST—
AND WHY
BY H. HARDY HETH (AGE 1 5)
{Gold Badge)
Every good book is a friend that never fails. And
we owe tribute to many authors for giving us such
companions. Who could forget Louisa M. Alcott, Kate
Douglas Wiggin, Frances Hodgson Burnett, Ralph
Henry Barbour, Henry Van Dyke, or Lew Wallace and
his great "Ben Hur" ?
But as I look over my library, one small volume
outshines all the others. It is written in words of one
syllable, so that any child may read ; and as it has
been in my possession ever since I was such, this book
is a friend tried and true. Upon the cover is printed
in gold, "The Pilgrim's Progress."
There are many reasons for my choice, naturally
the first being that the story is just as beneficial now
as when I first read it years ago. Indeed, I believe
the oftener it is re-read, the more helpful it becomes.
Then, I greatly admire Bunyan, the author.
He was the son of an English tinker, and for a
time adopted his father's trade, but early in life began
preaching. As he led a body of people whose ideas
were opposite to those of the king, he was arrested
in 1660 and retained in prison until 1672. During
those long years spent in Bedford jail, "Pilgrim's
Progress" was written. His persistence in time of
trouble and disgrace proves him an example well worth
noticing.
The book itself has innumerable good qualities. It
is uplifting and appeals to the imagination, yet never
does it make light of worldly cares. Nothing is over-
drawn ; everything is real and practical. The hero
Vol. XXXIX.-84.
faces trials and triumphs that any pilgrim on life's
way must meet. His experiences aid me in mine.
The object of every book should be to help mankind.
I believe John Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress" fulfills
this purpose a hundredfold.
" AT PLAY." BY GWEN BLENKINSOI', AGE l6.
WINTER
BY GENEVIEVE C. FREEMAN (AGE 12)
{Silver Badge)
Autumn is going fast. Her last sweet breeze
Shakes from the half-clad boughs the last dry leaves ;
Then, gathering up her robes of russet gold,
And settling firm her crown of wealth untold,
Sweeps out of sight. The golden sunbeams there
The while dance round and through her auburn hair,
And slowly the surrounding mists enfold
And hide from sight the form of brown and gold.
When, hark ! there falls upon the startled ear,
The blast of clarion trumpets, loud and clear ;
And all the trees, where once the birds built nests,
Robbed of their cheery, silver-throated guests,
String up their silver harps to mournful tone,
And play the sad sweet music of their own.
And speeding on the north wind's mighty wing,
Amid a blare of bugles, comes the king !
A robe of sparkling whiteness does he wear,
A wreath of snowflakes in his snow-white hair,
And hair, and beard, and robe, so long and bright,
Mingle in one great cloud of sparkling white.
And while the stinging frost-imp draws his bow,
He scatters far and wide the soft, white snow.
All hail the lovely queens, Fall, Summer, Spring,
But call, from mount to mount, "Winter is king!"
666
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[May,
THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST—
AND WHY
BY JENNIE E. EVERDEN (AGE 12)
(Silver Badge)
Barring the Bible, "Little Women" stands forth.—
strongest and brightest from my list of dear old
friends.
My reasons are many, so many that I could not
give them all. But I love that book, or "friend" I
WINTER
BY MARION THANHOUSER (AGE 12)
(Gold Badge)
Oh, merry winter gnomes are we !
We dance and prance in impish glee.
And for our band we have a sign,
A tiny branch of scented pine.
In snowy ermine we are dressed,
And in the day we take our rest.
But when the moon hath risen high,
Away we go on feet that fly !
Oh, short and plump and quick are we !
Our faces round and lit with glee.
Upon the forest's silver floor
We dance as in the fairy lore.
We creep into the farmers' huts,
And steal their stores of winter nuts.
We dull their saws, enchant their wells.
And o'er their meadows cast our spells.
The mortals ever we molest ;
But leave the furry folk at rest.
"a heading for may." by hazel s. halstead, age 16. (honor member.) We bare the trees, and freeze the streams,
think I may call it ; and when one loves a friend,
does not that friend always help you? And strengthen
and cheer you often ?
"Little Women" is composed of several books, all
within one story.
In it you have home life and sisterly love, not as a
dry topic or marvelous endowment, but as an ex-
ample. It sets forth many examples, in fact, which
might be changed slightly so as to fit into any cir-
cumstance of one's own life.
Amy's gay experiences abroad, with Laurie to make
them comical, are enough for one story.
Meg's trials and home troubles are so funny, yet
deplorable, that they alone might fill a little book.
Last, but not least, there are poor dear Jo's trials,
ambitions, and temptations ! For some of Jo's faults
are so similar to my own, it helps me so much to see
how she overcomes hers.
If any one does not find "Little Women" very help-
ful and interesting, I give below my directions for
putting it to a practical test :
If you have the "blues," go with Amy to the
Parisian ball. It will cheer you wonderfully.
If you think the world has used you badly, sym-
pathize with Jo, and you will feel better.
If you want to laugh, read about the pranks of
Laurie and Jo, or of Jo's trials when Laurie tried to
propose to her.
One can find almost anything needed in "Little
Women" if she only tries.
SPRING
BY ELIZABETH CONNOLLY (AGE 9)
(Silver Badge)
Little snowdrop, lift your head
From the brown earth's wintry bed ;
Blue-eyed violet, come up, too,
Blue-eyed violet, shy and true.
Spring has come to call you all.
Hark ! I hear the bluebird's call !
And send them off to winter dreams.
We silence all the world with snow,
And pipe to make the north winds blow.
Oh, merry winter gnomes are we !
We dance and prance in impish glee.
THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST—
AND WHY
BY MURIEL AVERY (AGE 1 7)
(Honor Member)
A row of books lines the shelf before me. Among the
familiar titles, one seems to stand forth most promi-
nently. Not because of its size, certainly, yet it is
the book that has helped me most.
It is "The Desert of Waiting," the story of Saphur.
While he is crossing the desert toward the Golden
Gate of the City of his Desire, which opens but once
a year to common merchants, his camel falls lame, and
he is forced to stop and see the caravan pass on with-
out him. Losing hope of ever reaching the city, he
wishes but to die. Soon, however, a bee, buzzing
persistently around him, arouses his interest. Follow-
ing it, he reaches the palace of Omar, the alchemist
of the desert. Finding this wonderful man, he ex-
pects him to turn his wares to gold with his magic.
But, instead, Omar sends him to the rose garden,
where each night, until dawn, he must pick the rose-
leaves. The task is pleasant at first, but soon the
thorns prick, and he doubts if all this labor will
profit him anything. At length Omar calls him to
him. With the rose-leaves he has picked may be made
a wonderful attar, so costly that only princes may
buy, and for the bearer of which the Golden Gate
will open wide. So, through patience, Saphur gains
the City of his Desire.
Last year, moving to a strange town, thrown among
strangers, and, at the same time, taken from school
because of ill health, I thought often of this story, and
of that one sentence, "From the daily tasks, that prick
igiz.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
667
thee sorest, mayest thou distil some precious attar, that
will gain for thee a royal entrance to the City of
thy Desire."
THE BOOKS THAT HAVE HELPED ME MOST—
AND WHY
BY MARJORIE TROTTER (AGE I 7)
(Gold Badge)
Apart from the Bible, which is acknowledged by every
one in our day to hold highest place among books,
both from a literary and moral standpoint, it is diffi-
cult to decide what books are most helpful, for there
is such an abundance of good literature, ministering
to such widely varied needs. It seems to me the books
/ need most are not those that inspire to mighty deeds
in the dim future, or show me how to solve great
problems I may never meet, but books that help me,
here and now, to live an unselfish life. And when I
ask myself what books have influenced me most in
this regard, I am compelled to make an answer of
which I am almost ashamed, for my choice is no
masterpiece of writing, but merely a series of simple
stories for girls, — the "Little Colonel" books.
They contain no sermons, no wearisome digressions
from the story. They are full of activity and fun,
but the sweet atmosphere round the winsome Ken-
tucky heroine that breathed fragrance into the lives
of all she met, unconsciously influences those who read
her history. It was Lloyd's high aspiration "to live
in scorn of miserable aims that end with self," and
any thoughtful girl, watching her character develop
from baby days to the dawn of her gracious woman-
hood, will herself be stirred to this lofty ambition.
Besides Lloyd, Mrs. Johnston draws, so vividly that
we feel them to be intimate friends, hosts of other
charming characters. Especially lovable are the jolly
Wares, whose sturdy determination "to remain in-
flexible" before all their troubles is a beautiful ex-
ample of cheery optimism. Their many other teach-
ings cannot be enumerated here, but I have never
opened one of these books without receiving fresh
stimulus in the pursuit of my ideals.
THE SPRING
BY JOYCE COOK (AGE 1 6)
(Silver Badge)
When the birds begin to sing,
When every one of them 's a-wing,
When primroses and daffodils are showing ;
When the trees once more are green,
And in corners all unseen
Blue violets are blowing,
It is spring.
When hart's-tongues droop and quiver
By the merry rippling river ;
When the cherry-trees are white again with bloom ;
When we tiptoe as we find
A tiny bird's nest close behind
That fir-tree in the gloom.
Oh, yes, it 's spring !
When the sky is softly blue,
And the clouds o'er it are few,
But in the west there 's promise yet of rain,
Then we feel, as ne'er before,
That we 're truly at the door
Of the fairy-world, that comes again
In spring.
SPRING
BY DORIS ROSALIND WILDER (AGE II)
By a shadowy, babbling brook,
'Neath tall pines that overlook
Fields of daisies gold and white,
Like stars in summer sky at night,
Every gentle breeze that blows
Bears the scent of briar rose,
Transparent ferns, and mosses rare,
Sunny skies, and balmy air.
Now and then a warbling note,
From some joyous robin's throat,
The shining air of summer fills,
And echoes 'mid the distant hills.
Fleecy clouds as white as snow,
Memories of long ago ;
'Neath the trees dim shadows lie,
Mysteries of by and by.
But the babbling of the brook
Breaks the silence of this nook,
Gurgling, murmuring as it flows,
"Memories linger, but time goes."
THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST—
AND WHY
BY DORIS LONGTON (AGE 1 7)
(Silver Badge)
Of the many books I have read, and reading is my
favorite occupation, Louisa M. Alcott's "Little Wo-
men" has influenced me most.
It contains many lessons of unselfishness, charity,
and economy, showing how happiness may be got
"AT PLAY." BY MARGARET AYER, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)
from very simple pleasures irrespective of riches. Also
the perseverance and trials of four girls, very like
other girls, who struggled hard against, and overcame,
each one her special failing, seem to urge you to try
to follow in their foot-steps.
Jo is my special girl. I seem to have cared for her
from the first. She is so real and true. How I en-
joyed reading the part where, through working hard,
she got well planted on the road leading to successful
authorship, scribbling away in the attic on her strange
desk. How tender a nurse she made when, the mother
away nursing a sick father, her little Beth took scarlet
fever ; and how she made peace with Laurie's irate
668
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[May,
grandfather, when both were angry and hurt, although
she, herself, was angry when Laurie played such a
rude trick on Meg.
As for Beth, with her piano, her dolls, her dish-tub,
and dusting, — gentle, shy, little Beth did every one
good by her patient duty-loving ways and manners,
even to harum-scarum Jo.
Meg overcame her vanity and walked unscathed
through "vanity fair," growing, when the mother was
suddenly called away, from girl to woman, striving to
care for the younger sisters and keep the home.
The little artist Amy learned a hard lesson with
Aunt March, growing to think of others before herself
and curb her vanity.
Louisa M. Alcott knew girls were not perfect, but
what reward could be more than Mr. March's ob-
servations on his return from the war, when he was
able to remark upon such improvement in his girls?
tin***
'AT WORK." BY FRANK L. HAYES, JR. , AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.)
IN YE WYNTER TYME
(An Acrostic in Archaic Spelling)
BY ELEANOR E. CARROLL (AGE 1 4)
(Silver Badge)
In ye joyeuse wynter tyme,
Neare ye fyre I lyke to sytte.
Yellowe blazes upwarde clymbe,
Ever leaping : ne'er they quitte.
When ye blyzzards rage outsyde,
Younge and olde together synge,
Now aboute some ancyente bryde,
Telling usse of her wedding ;
Else, about a vallyante knyghte
Roving 'rounde throughout the lande,
Tyll he fynds some wronge to righte ;
Yea, he does onne every hande.
Months fly past, eache as a gueste,
Every one lykes wynter beste !
SPRING
BY ELIZABETH MACDONALD (AGE 10)
Spring on the hillside,
Ankle-deep in flowers,
Her favorites flocking round her,
Or hanging back in bowers.
Resting in the valley
Like a tired child from, play,
Lying in the fern and moss,
Breathing scents of May.
Spring is in the woodland
More beautiful than all,
Budding blossoms round her
Opening at her call.
Birds singing o'er her,
Blue sky above,
God surely sent her
To fill the world with love.
WINTER
BY HATTIE ANUNDSEN (AGE 1 7)
(Honor Member)
My friend, have you seen the northland
When the rivers are barred with mail?
When the pines bow low, 'neath the wind-heaped snow,
And sing through the rushing gale?
Then hark to the mighty blizzard
As it roars through the northern night
Till the dark trees gleam like a misty dream,
Through a flickering veil of white.
But listen ! the wind is dying,
The clouds have been swept away ;
And the moon sails high in a star-gemmed sky,
O'er a world that is light as day.
Then ho ! for the winter moonlight !
The monarchs of all are we,
By the heart atune to the winds that croon,
And the song of the gliding skee.
But ever the home lure calleth,
Till it kindles a wild desire ;
Then fare we back o'er the gleaming track,
To drowse by the open fire.
THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST—
AND WHY
BY GRACE KING (AGE 1 7)
(Silver Badge)
I have been helped and educated by many different
books, but I believe that during the last three years,
the one that has helped me most has been my bank-
account book. Before I was given my bank-book, I
spent my allowance heedlessly ; in fact, I spent ray
money so quickly that I really could not give my
parents an accurate account of what it had all gone for.
So, finally, on my fourteenth birthday, my father
gave me a bank-book, and he told me to put my
allowance (which was twenty-five dollars a month)
into the bank and draw out five dollars every week,
which should last me through the week for all my
expenditures. He told me to keep an accurate ac-
count of every penny that I spent during the week,
and to record these weekly accounts in my bank-book.
At first I thought this would be an awful task, but
I soon learned to take pleasure in being careful with
my expense accounts, and then my father rewarded
me for my extra trouble by adding another five dol-
lars to my regular monthly allowance.
I am very glad now that I was taught to keep a
bank-account, for it certainly did succeed in making
me more economical, and more careful with money.
1912.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
669
"A HEADING FOR MAY." BY HAROLD C. LEWIS, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)
SPRING
BY MARION E. STARK (AGE 17)
{Gold Badge)
Spring comes dancing o'er the sunny hilltops,
Trees are budding, filled with sap anew ;
Birds are winging, joyful, to their home-land,
E'en the sun has springtime beauty, too.
Now 's the time when all the busy housewives
Sigh and frown upon the dirt and dust,
Roll their sleeves, and don their work regalia,
For clean house, indeed, they surely must.
And their patient husbands groan and wonder,
As they beat the carpets out-of-door,
If, perchance, when this hard task is ended,
They can find sweet comfort any more.
Everything within the house is missing
From its own accustomed shelf or hook ;
For a hat, or pen, or clock, or necktie,
No one ever knows the place to look.
And the springtide's glory bright is darkened
By the clouds of dust that upward rise,
Veiling our fair land in all its beauty,
Casting gloom upon e'en sunset skies.
Thus, though spring comes dancing o'er the hilltops,
And birds are winging, joyful, to our homes ;
Spring house-cleaning sways relentless scepter,
And through our laud tyrannically roams.
TO WINTER
BY MARGARET M. CASKEY (AGE 15)
Withdraw, thou cruel tyrant of the cold !
Desert thy heaped-up fastnesses of snow,
Strike off thy icy chains from earth, and go
Far hence ; and let Spring's buds unfold —
The purple of the violets, the gold
Of crocuses ; let Spring new life bestow.
Depart, dread king, fair Spring's most deadly foe,
Lead forth thy legions of frost spirits bold
Who sheathe with ice each tender growing thing.
The birds, the minstrels from the south, will come
To take their place ; and butterflies will sail
Through verdant trees, with opalescent wings ;
Among the flowers sweet the bees will hum,
And Spring's allies shall o'er thy power prevail.
SPRING
BY DORIS F. HALMAN (AGE 16)
{Honor Member)
A little stir,
A winged whir,
A flash of blue
And crimson, too.
The world is new !
A first robin's thrill,
A tree's soft, green frill,
A brook's flashing thread,
A white violet bed.
Blue sky overhead !
Splotches of gold on a rolling green,
Perfume of flowers that blow unseen,
Apple-bloom down-balls the breezes fling,
Wee, shrilling voices that sing and sing,
'Glory to God, for it 's spring! It 's spring
THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST—
AND WHY
BY DORIS IRENE KNIGHT (AGE 14)
"The book that has helped me most," I thought to
myself. Upon which of my many favorite books should
the choice rest? Should it be "Captains Courageous,"
"The Jungle Books," or, perhaps, Thompson Seton's
stories of animals ? But no ; a second reading of the
title changed my ideas. "The book that has helped me
most," it read. That book is surely the St. Nicholas.
And why?
The League has given me a chance to write once a
month, or, at least, to think about the new title, so it
has kept me in practice.
Then what a drill in patience St. Nicholas is. For
instance :
And they turned in their stirrups to see Nether Hall one great
blaze.
" Heavens! " gasped Captain Hood.
They dashed back with white faces.
( To be continued. )
or words to that effect.
St. Nicholas, too, always can settle any dispute
as to punctuation, capitals, etc., because it always has
the "latest" in printing.
All the stories are good and well written. Alto-
gether, I do not see how I ever could get along with-
out "the book that has helped me most."
670
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
THE ROLL OF HONOR
No. i. A list of those whose work would have been used had space
permitted.
No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to encouragement.
PROSE, i
Elizabeth C. Walton
Katherine Judson
Dorothy Rogers
Margaret Vaughn
Marie Merriman
Mary E. Van Fossen
Helen Gawthrop
Elizabeth D. Macy
Helen Grace Garnham
Jeannette Gleed
Nathaniel Dorfman
Anna Charap
Frances E. Cavanah
Mittie Clark
Anne K. Warren
Arthur Nethercot
Catherine F. Urell
Lucile E. Merrill
Elsie Stevens
Anna Rimington
Louise S. May
Florence L. Smith
Adeline Rotty
Hazel B. Pawlowsky
Hattie M. Wulke
James Sheean
Antonia Schwab
Myrtle Doppman
Mildred Thorp
Louise Lieber
Fredrica McLean
Walter L. Chapin, Jr.
William W. Ladd
Lenore J. Hughes
PROSE, 2
Dorothy A. Heinlein
Vernon P. Williams
Max Muench
Jessie V. H. Westfall
Naomi Lauchheimer
Alfred J. Murray
Hyman Estrin
Mildred Weissner
Vera B. Hall
Joseph Kaufman
Ethel M. Feuerlicht
Anna Laura Porter
Evelyn V. Palmer
Marguerite Sisson
Sarah Polansky
Mary Daboll
Catherine Johnson
Roxana Chadbourne
Etienne Donovan
VERSE, i
Bruce T. Simonds
Winifred S. Stoner, Jr.
Josephine N. Felts
Martin Stahl
Anita Grannis
Elizabeth Zerrahn
Betty Humphreys
Katharine Baker
Elizabeth Willcox
Ethel London
Margaret B. Laws
Helen E. Master
Isabel W, Strang
Helen E. Dougherty
Vera F. Keevers
Glenn Ashdown
W. J. Cress well
Doris N. Chew
Eleanor Johnson
Dorothy W. Lord
Rowena Lamy
Marion Ellet
Harold A. Brower
Elizabeth B. White
Elizabeth McN.
Gordon
Carolyn Krusen
Jean E. Freeman
Florence W. Towle
Marjorie P. M.
Guthrie
Charlotte Hawes
Madeleine Ward
Rose Schwartz
Dorothy C. Snyder
Helen R. Tolles
Ruth M. Miller
VERSE, 2
Mildred W. Longstreth
Alberta M. Davidson
Henry D. Costigan
Quinta Cattell
Edna Milliman
Bertha F. Hirschberg
Olga M. Marwig
Elinor Hopkins
Elsie L. Lustig
Lazare Chernoff
Vivian E. Hall
Ray Del-Monte
Elise S. Haynes
Naomi E. Butler
Erna Gunther
Anna Roberts
Donald C. Dorian
Marian Wightman
Hortense Lion
Dorothea Rush
Owens Berry
Florence Clark
Polly May Gorringe
Hope Satterthwaite
Katharine L. Trippe
DRAWINGS, i
Venette M. Willard
Dorothy Handsaker
Alison M. Kingsbury
Lily King Westervelt
Horace Graf
Walter K. Frame
Lucie C. Holt
Lucy Blenkinsop
Jean Hopkins
Schofield Handforth
Frances M. Patten
Ethel King
Hunter Griffith
Bodil Hornemann
Rosemary H. Robinson
Beatrice H. Robinson
Beryl Margetson
Margery R. Dawson
Tecla Ludolf
Catharine M. Clarke
Susan Frazier
Lucy F. Rogers
Dorothy Hughes
Elizabeth Winston
Kathleen Culhane
Goldie Zucker
Marjorie Flack
Caroline Cox
Ruth Seymour
Henry Herzog
Marion H. Medlar
Ethel Warren Kidder
Marina Foster
Dorothy Deming
Leo Swift
DRAWINGS, 2
Evangeline Pendleton
Dorothy A. Babbage
Lucile Hotchkiss
Adelaide White
Max Margolius
Dorothea Quitzow
Dorothy von Colson
Virginia Palmer
Mary T. Bradley
Charles Case
Phyllis Coate
Paul Johnson
Edna C. Haines
Philip N. Rawson
Joe Jaroszynski
Gertrude Russell
PHOTOGRAPHS
Marion Rawson
Stephen Wheatland
Delaware Kemper
Hilda F. Gaunt
Robert Levison
Gertrude Davie
Caroline Bancroft
James B. Taylor, Jr.
PUZZLES
Phoebe Schreiber
Lambe
Emilie Jeannette
Daggett
Sam Bronsky
George Hobart
McDonald
Elizabeth E. Abbott
Maryalice Moody
Cecelia Rea
Margaret Stanley-
Brown
Harriet Henry
Lois B. Perley
Gustav Diechmann
Helen C. Young
Edith Pierpont
Stickney
Roy Elliott
ROLL OF THE CARELESS
A list of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and
could not be properly entered for the competition.
LATE. Robert S. Welden, Hortense Douglas, A. F. Gilman, Jr.,
Parker McAllister, Chrystie Douglas, Betty Quick, John Argens, Val-
entine C. Hart, Laura Cook, K.. O'Hanlon, Helen Fortier, Madelaine
Schreiber, Helen Stearns, May C. Jacobs, Beatrice Woodruff, Han-
nah B. Trainer.
NOT INDORSED. Mary E. Mumford, Sally S. Palmer, An-
thony F. Brown, Jr., Albert C. Kringel, Eleanor M. Sickels, Cyril G.
Laub, Donovan Hinchman, Lucille MacAllister, Sophie Duwalf.
NO AGE. Ray Inman, Jr., Catharine Clement, Theodore Neu-
staedter, Marian Speilman, Helen Beeman, Catherine B. McCoy,
Nellie Melrose, Audrey Cooper.
WRONG SUBJECT. William Kalning, Harry Salzman, BeUa
Schnall, Isadore Schnall, Frances Brooks.
FULL ADDRESS NOT GIVEN. Minna Schwarz, Elsie L.
Morey, Lucile Lesser, Ellen Lee Hoffman, Theresa E. Tobiassen, Jo-
seph Barrett, Eleanor Mishnun, Walter J. Baeza.
WRITTEN ON BOTH SIDES OF PAPER. Gertrude Zwisler.
IN PENCIL. Margaret Beauchamp, Clement Kell, Lois Gubel-
man, James O'Brien, Esther Huntington, Joseph Deprimo.
PRIZE COMPETITION NO. 151
The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings,
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasion-
ally, cash prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge win-
ners who shall, from time to time, again win first place.
Competition No. 151 will close May 10 (for
foreign members May 15). Prize announcements
will be made and the selected contributions published in
St. Nicholas for September.
Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, " A Song of the Woods."
Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, " A Seaside Adventure. "
Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "On the March."
Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, " Left Behind," or a Heading for September.
Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an-
swer in full, and must be indorsed.
Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas.
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on
the first page of the " Riddle-box."
Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur-
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The
prizes in the " Wild Creature Photography " competition
shall be in four classes, as follows : Prize, Class A, a
gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold
badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge.
Prize, Class D, a silver badge. But prize-winners in this
competition (as in all the other competitions) will not receive
a second gold or silver badge. Photographs must not be
of "protected" game, as in zoological gardens or game
reservations. Contributors must state in a few words where
and under what circumstances the photograph was taken.
Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re-
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed
and stamped envelop of the proper size to hold the manu-
script, drawing, or photograph.
RULES
Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not,
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who
has reached the age of eighteen years may compete.
Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied,
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the
number of words should also be added. These notes must
not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribzition itself —
if manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, on the
margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper
only. A contributor may send but one contribution a
month — not one of each kind, but one only.
Address : The St. Nicholas League,
Union Square, New York.
,.,Tn« T^»»J~N . V/kteUy.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER
Double Zigzag. Cross-words: i. Weight. 2. Earthy. 3. Relent.
4. Mettle. 5. Wander. 6. Loiter. 7. Finish. 8. Rescue. 9. Atomic.
10. Stream. 11. Tavern. Walter Scott ; Talisman; 1 to 8, Waverley;
9 to 15, Marmion.
Diagonal. Shakespeare. Cross-words: 1. Susceptible. 2. Chro-
nometer. 3. Anachronism. 4. Backsliders. 5. Perpetrated. 6. Sup-
position. 7. Discrepancy. 8. Omnipotence. 9. Assassinate. 10.
Forefathers, n. Irrevocable.
Illustrated Acrostic and Zigzag. Zigzag: Spartacus; Primals:
Gladiator. Cross-words: 1. Gates. 2. Lamps. 3. Arena. 4. Diary.
5. Inlet. 6. Atlas. 7. Tunic. 8. Oakum. 9. Rings.
Greek Cross of Squares. I. 1. Solar, 2. Olive. 3. Lines. 4.
Avert. 5. Rests. II. 1. Layer. 2. Adore. 3. Yokes. 4. Erect. 5.
Rests. III. 1. Rests. 2. Ethel. 3. Share. 4. Terse. 5. Sleet.
IV. 1. Sleet. 2. Lunar. 3. Entry. 4. Earns. 5. Tryst. V. 1.
Sleet. 2. Leave. 3. Eaves- 4. Event. 5. Tests.
To our Puzzlers: Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 10th of each month, and should be ad-
dressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth Street, New York City.
Answers to all the Puzzles in the February Number were received before February 10 from Jean S. Peck — H. L. Schmaling —
Clara Parks — Philip Franklin — William D. Woodwek — Horace T. Trefethan.
Answers to Puzzles in the February Number were received before February 10 from Claire Hepner, n — Frank Black, n — Geraldine A.
Cuthbert, 5 — Agnes L. Thomson, 8 — Reginald G. Hammond, 6 — Joseph B. Kelly, 6 — Gertrude M. Earle, 2 — Helen L. Pendergast, 10 — Isa-
bella Wood, 4 — Edna Levinson, 3 — Grace King, 3 — Margaret Warburton, 10 — Marjorie Hyder, 4 — Muriel Colgate, 2 — Leonard Kimball, 3 —
Evelyn Thurber, 3 — Marian Watts, 3 — Eleanor Stevenson, 3 — Mary V. R. Lorillard, 4 —Harrison W. Gill, 5 — Edna R. Meyle, 8 — Elisabeth
Weld, 11 — Theodore H. Ames, 11 — Helen C. Wouters, 11 — Thankful Bickmore, 10 — Gladys S. Conrad, 6 — " Chums," 9 — Duncan Scarborough,
10 — Edith Anna Lukens, 2 — Frederick W. Van Home, 8 — S. Pereira Mendes, 4 — Eleanor O'Leary, 8 — Marion L. Letcher, 8 — Henry Seligsohn,
5 — Frances F. Gregory, 2.
Answers to one Puzzle were received from M. T— M. S.— S. V. J.— P. M.— B. W.— H. C— J. M.— H. F. A. D.— A. B.— G. H.— F. A.
F.— M. N. B.— H. M.— H. M. R.— I. A.— J. McL.— G. H. A.— M. L. K.— F. M. B.— E. L. G.— J. T— E. W.— C. O.— M. M.— F. S.— E. D.
A.— A. B.
Word-Squares. I. 1. Asses. 2. Scent. 3. Sense. 4. Ensue. 5.
Steep. II. 1. Peach. 2. Eagle. 3. Aglow. 4. Clove. 5. Hewed.
Geographical Acrostic. Primals: Georgia; third row: Atlanta.
Cross-words: 1. Grand. 2. Eaton. 3. Oella. 4. Roach. 5. Gonic.
6. Intra. 7. Adams.
Numerical Enigma.
" When most afflicted and oppressed
From labour there shall come forth rest."
Charade. Friendship.
Connected Word-Squares and Diamonds. I. 1. Price. 2.
Rides. 3. Idols. 4. Celia. 5. Essay. II. 1. Say. 2. Ale. 3. Yes;
1. Era. 2. Rip. 3. Ape; 1. Sea. 2. Ell. 3. All; 1. Boy. 2. Ore.
3. Yet. III. 1. S. 2. Ate. 3. Stove. 4. Eve. 5. E; 1. A. 2.
Yet. 3. jEsop. 4. Toe. 5. P; 1. E. 2. Ass. 3. Essay. 4. Sap.
5. Y; 1. T. 2. See. 3. Tears. 4. Ere. 5. S.
NOVEL ACROSTIC
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. The primals spell the name of an American
poet, and another row of letters the name of a famous
English general.
Cross-words : 1. Part of a spur. 2. Sarcasm. 3. A
flowering shrub. 4. Relating to a kind of fairy. 5. To
grant.
helen moulton (age 1 5), League Member.
DIAMONDS CONNECTED BY A SQUARE
A small, flat fish allied to the flounder. 3. Having a
rounded top. 4. A kind of roof. 5. A small fruit. 6.
An Algerian governor. 7. In grappling-irons.
III. Central Square: i. Sound. 2. A place of
public contest. 3. One of the mechanical powers. 4.
Sluggish. 5. Missile weapons.
IV. Right-hand Diamond: i. In grappling-irons.
2. An obstruction. 3. An evil spirit. 4. Gulches. 5.
Excavated. 6. Induced. 7. In grappling-irons.
V. Lower Diamond: i. In grappling-irons. 2. To
strike very lightly. 3. A river of Tasmania. 4. A
Mohammedan month. 5. An Irishman. 6. A beam of
light. 7. In grappling-irons.
m. w.
NOVEL ZIGZAG
*****
*****
*****
*****
9 10
. 1 1
I. Upper Diamond: i. In grappling-irons. 2. A
state of equality. 3. A beautiful city. 4. A small um-
brella. 5. Attained a height. 6. A near relative. 7. In
grappling-irons.
II. Left-hand Diamond: i. In grappling-irons. 2.
Cross-words: i. A prawn. 2. A place where food is
sold. 3. To discharge from the stomach. 4. Inclines.
5. An underground place. 6. An image.
Zigzags, from 1 to 11, a famous author who was
born and who died in the same month of the year ; second
row of letters, reading downward, one of his most famous
characters.
helen l. beach (age 11), League Member.
671
672
THE RIDDLE-BOX
ILLUSTRATED NUMERICAL ENIGMA
In this enigma the words are pictured instead of de-
scribed. The answer, consisting of forty-six letters, is
a quotation from Dryden.
GEOGRAPHICAL, ZIGZAG
{Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below
another, the zigzag through the first and second
columns will spell the name of one of the United States.
Cross-words: i. A famous metropolis of the United
States. 2. A Grecian city. 3. A city of Vermont. 4.
A State capital. 5. A German port. 6. A South Ameri-
can country. 7. A southern State. 8. A South Ameri-
can river. 9. A State capital, named after a famous
valley in Greece. 10. A country in Africa. 11. An
island owned by Denmark. 12. A country of Europe.
13. A New England State capital.
JESSICA B. NOBLE (age II).
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
My first is in collar but not in tie ;
My second, in weep but not in sigh ;
My third is in sob but not in sigh ;
My fourth, in pupil but not in eye ;
My fifth is in cake but not in pie ;
My sixth is in far but not in nigh ;
My seventh, in ground but not in sky ;
My whole is a thing that cannot fly. ■
s. h. ordway, jr. (age 11).
DOUBLE ACROSTIC
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below
another, the primals spell the first, and the finals the
last, name of an American author who died in May.
Cross-words : 1. A biblical character. 2. A girl's
name. 3. Believe. 4. To stop. 5. Chief. 6. One of
the Roman emperors. 7. A Bavarian river. 8. To
acquire by service. 9. A narrow road.
helen rohe (age 13), League Member.
CONCEALED SQUARE WORD
When Nora went bathing at first at the shore,
She ventured in fully two inches or more.
But no new arrival or old swimmer bold
To her present achievements a candle can hold.
Be he later or earlier it matters not,
He '11 always find Nora right there on the spot.
He cannot escape from a race if he tries,
She 's always the winner and captures each prize.
It 's almost distressing she always should win ;
Just think how we laughed the first time she went in.
Helen A. Sibley.
DIAMOND
1. In manliness. 2. To rest. 3. A relish. 4. A great
number. 5. To pollute. 6. A small point. 7. In man-
liness, harold coy (age 9), League Member.
DOUBLE ZIGZAG
» 7 3 ■ *
, 6
Cross-words : 1. Puts in motion. 2. A finger. 3. Heals.
4. An inclined slide or tube. 5. The fact of being else-
where. 6. Long-winged sea-birds. 7. Untied. 8. To
caper. 9. To whinny. 10. The capital of Croatia and
Slavonia. 11. To arm. 12. Foreign. -13. A large bay-
window.
The two zigzags, reading downward, spell the name
of an artist and the place in which are his most famous
paintings ; and the figures from 1 to 5, and from 5 to 10,
two of his best-known works. M. f.
THE DE V1NNE PRESS, NEW YORK.
Everyday pictures of the good times
around home are easy to take with a
Pocket Kodak
Kodaks from $5.00 up. Brownie Cameras (they
work like Kodaks), $1.00 to $12.00. Catalogue
free at your dealers or by mail.
EASTMAN KODAK COMPANY,
ROCHESTER, N. Y., The Kodak City.
IO
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
pairs will be given foil \ m
~ .Huts
— made of wheat and barley, was de-
vised and is scientifically prepared to sup-
ply the certain elements, including the
Phosphate of Potash (grown in the grain),
required by Nature for building and
maintaining the nerve and brain cells that
make up Memory's Storehouse.
<<
There's a Reason "
Postum Cereal Company, Limited,
Battle Creek, Mich., U. S. A.
Canadian Postum Cereal Company, Ltd.
Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
II
Everyday pictures of the good times
around home are easy to take with a
Pocket Kodak
Kodaks from $5.00 up. Brownie Cameras (they
work like Kodaks), $1.00 to $12.00. Catalogue
free at your dealers or by mail.
EASTMAN KODAK COMPANY,
ROCHESTER, N. Y., The Kodak City.
IO
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
— made of wheat and barley, was de-
vised and is scientifically prepared to sup-
ply the certain elements, including the
Phosphate of Potash (grown in the grain),
required by Nature for building and
maintaining the nerve and brain cells that
make up Memory's Storehouse.
<t
There 's a Reason ' '
Postum Cereal Company, Limited,
Battle Creek, Mich., U. S. A.
Canadian Postum Cereal Company, Ltd.
Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
II
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Spring and
Children
When they get out of doors and roll
their hoops, and spin their tops, and
bat the ball, we know that Spring has
really come.
They run a good many miles on
those little feet, trotting steadily about
all day long. Nature provided them
with soft pads on their heels; custom
has put hard leather with nails that
strike the floors and pavements, and
send ajar through the delicate nervous
system of your girl or boy.
Do you know that you can save
them from all those jolts and jars by
attaching
O'Sullivan's Heels
Of New Live Rubber
and that there is at least one shoemaker in the United States who makes a specialty of children's
shoes, made on the most scientific lines, with O' Sullivan's Heels attached ?
f° \ How To Get These Shoes
Write to the Broadwalk Shoe Company, Haverhill, Mass., and
ask them for their catalogue. They will give you full information.
If you have difficulty in getting O'Sullivan's
Heels that just exactly fit your child's present
shoes, let us know and we will be glad to discuss
the matter with you.
It is our business to see that
your children, and your children's
father and mother, are made com-
fortable when walking or standing.
12
When Nan is Cook.
"Cooking is dreadful hard work, I s'pose, even when you know how, and when
you don't, it's awful."
Bobbie's bashful chum would like to say something complimentary, but "dasn't."
Nan continues:
" It's nice to give this kind of dinner, for it doesn't have to be cooked. The
is the nicesl part. And I made it just as e-a-s-y. "
"Just as easy" is the Jell-O way. The dessert is an
important part of any dinner, and making it takes a good deal
of the housewife's time when she doesn't use Jell-O. The
most delightful Jell-O desserts can be made in a minute by
anybody. They do not have to be cooked.
There are seven delicious Jell-O flavors : Strawberry,
Raspberry, Lemon, Orange, Peach, Cherry, Chocolate.
At all grocers, 1 0 cents a package.
The price is never more than 10 cents, however high
everything else goes.
Let us send you the famous recipe book,
"DESSERTS OF THE WORLD," illustrated
in ten colors and gold.
THE GENESEE PURE FOOD GO.
Le Roy, N. Y., and Bridgeburg, Can.
The name Jell-O is on every package in big red letters. If it isn't
there, it isn't Jell-O
13
a song, a band, or a funny story?
You probably like them all best — most boys and girls do — and you can have
them all in your home all the time if you own an Edison Phonograph.
All the songs that other boys are whistling, all the pretty music which
grown up people hear at the theatres, you can enjoy too if you get the
Edison Phonograph Records which your dealer has to sell you each month.
Edison Records for May
Go to the Edison dealer and have him play
them for you. Every new Edison Record
makes your Edison Phonograph new. Your
spending money will buy more fun if spent for
Edison Records than if spent for anything else.
AMBEROL CONCERT RECORDS
28014 Vito Paulo Gruppe
28015 Coppelia— Entr'ActeandWaltz, ArmandVecsey &Orch.
28016 Old Folks at Home Margaret Keyes
AMBEROL RECORDS
987 A Songologue — Winter Garden Stella Mayhew
988 Mary Was My Mother's Name Joseph A. Phillip
That College Rag Walter Van Brunt and Chorus
I Want Some One to Care for Me Lottie Gilson
You've Got Me Hypnotized, Ada Jones & Billy Murray
Take Me Back to the Garden of Love Reed Miller
(a) Three Little Owls and the Naughty Little Mice
(6) I'm Old But I'm Awfully Tough Cal Stewart
The Passing Caravan Patrol . . New York Military Band
My Lou — Winter Garden, Stella Mayhew & Bill ie Taylor
That Coontown Quartet Premier Quartet
990
991
991
995
997 Your Own Dear Kiss Elizabeth Spencer
998 When I Was Twenty-One and You Were Sweet Sixteen
Joseph A. Phillips and Chorus
999 Peggy Gray Manuel Romain
1000 Good Night, Mr. Moon Campbell and Gillette
1001 That Hypnotizing Man Premier Quartet
1002 Alexander's Ragtime Band Medley. . . .Fred Van Epps
1008 Cujus Animam— Stabat Mater. . . .Charles W. Harrison
1004 Rockin' in de Win' Bessie Volckmann
1005 Are You Going to Dance?— "The Count of Luxembourg"
Elizabeth Spencer and Irving Gillette
1006 Old Folks at Home, with Variations .... Andre Benoist
1007 One Fine Day — "Madame Butterfly". . .Agnes Kimball
1008 Let JoyousPeaceReign Everywhere, Anthony & Harrison
1009 Count of Luxembourg— Waltzes, Amer.Stan. Orchestra
1010 God is Love, His Mercy Brightens
Agnes Miller, Reed Miller and Frank Croxton
1011 Happy Days Venetian Instrumental Trio
STANDARD RECORDS
10551 Spanish Dance— Suite "Bal Costume," U.S.MarineBand
10552 Pickaninny's Lullaby Elsie Baker
10553 I Want "a Regular Pal" for a "Gal," Walter Van Brunt
10554 'Lizabeth Ann Campbell and Gillette
10555 Scotch Country Dances National Military Band
Edison Phonographs $15to$200
Standard Records 35
Amberol Records (twice as long) .50
Amberol Concert Records 75
Grand Opera Records . . .75 to $2.00
a&;
81 Lakeside Avenue
Orange, N. J.
H
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
t-lfSiS
holeproof
fiosierx
•^Wi,
TSeHt*. Clicaeo
Reg. U.S.
Pat. Offioe. 1S06
TTeKleinha^Oo.
<T -Rnffalo.f- *'
^5UBW...H.*-Ul*»
Avoid Imitations
To avoid imitations — amateur brands— look for
the " Holeproof " trademark and the signature
of Mr. Carl Freschl on the toe of each pair.
The prices range from $1.50 to $3.00 for six pairs, accord-
ing to finish and weight.
Six pairs of children's stockings, guaranteed six months,
$2.00. " Holeproof" are just the thing for romping, grow-
ing children. Decide today to try " Holeproof."
Write for free book, " How to Make Your Feet Happy."
Why Big Stores
Sell Holeproof Hose
Holeproof Hose — six pairs guaranteed six months — are sold
by the greatest stores in the country. " Holeproof" are the
original guaranteed hose, the kind backed by 38 years of
experience. Six pairs are guaranteed six months. New
pairs will be given for any that wear out within that time.
The original has the greatest demand of any guaranteed
hose on the market because of its vastly superior quality.
Only the Best Yarn
Used for "Holeproof"
We use only yarn that costs an average of 70 cents per
pound, while yarn can be bought for 30 cents.
But ours is three-ply, soft and fine. It is
more pliable than two-ply. Hence the hose can
be made at once lighter and stronger.
Holepfoomosieru
FOR MEN WOMETT AND CHILDREN *
Then, " Holeproof " are made in twelve colors,
five grades and ten weights, suiting every man's
preference. For long wear in hose of correct
style and good fit there is nothing to equal the
genuine " Holeproof." See the assortment at
the good stores in your city today.
HOLEPROOF HOSIERY CO.
154 Fourth Street, Milwaukee, Wis.
Holeproof Hosiery Co. of Canada, Ltd., London, Can., Distributors for Canada Tampico News Co., S. A., City of Mexico, Agents for Mexican Republic
Gtepnib /Ante, oihuu/ud?
15
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
If children don't care —
Or if they forget —
Wrigley's EBy^ makes it easier for them to
care for their teeth than not to care.
If your children chew it every day, the friction and the
mint leaf juice preserve their teeth indefinitely.
While they chew it they also help digestion. Most
children don't chew food properly — don't create enough
saliva. Chewing this dainty helps digest the "gulpings."
And all this applies to ^ou — Mr. or Mrs. or Miss !
Look for the spear
The flavor lasts
BUY IT BY THE BOX
of any dealer. It costs less.
Pass it around after meals.
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
No Trouble to Prepare
A woman can get too much Exercise, and Housework is monotonous Exercise at that!
It is said that the preparation of meals takes up fully one-half of the house-
wife's busy day.
That time could be shortened and she could have more leisure for enjoyment if
Post Toasties
Were used more frequently.
We do the cooking for you, Madam, in a factory that is spotlessly clean.
And remember, too, that in the making, "Toasties" are not touched by human hand!
These delicious bits of crisped Indian Corn are all ready to serve from the package
instantly. And your family will like them, too —
" The Memory Lingers "
Canadian Postum Cereal Co., Limited
Windsor, Ontario, Canada
Postum Cereal Company, Limited
Battle Creek, Mich., U. S. A.
17
St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. 125.
Time to hand in answers is up May 10. Prize-winners announced in July number.
b
WE shall certainly have to suppress that
uppish young friend of ours, Alexander
the Little! He is too fond of bringing in what
he considers good ideas for competitions. The
trouble with Alexander is that he is lazy, and
does n't wish to carry out his notions, preferring
to let most of the work be done by others. If
it were not for the bright wits of our competi-
tors, Alexander's ideas would be flat indeed ;
but it really is interesting to us to see how you
can take the merest suggestion and, by the use
of your own clever brains, convert it into
something worth while.
Alexander's latest idea is that you shall use
an unfinished sketch of his as a basis for an
advertisement of something not already adver-
tised in St. Nicholas which would be suitable
for its advertising pages. It may or may not
be something advertised in other magazines,
the choice of the thing to which you are to fit
the drawing being left to you.
We are going to give Alexander this one
more chance, and then if it does n't prove to
be a good plan for a competition, we shall give
the boy a piece of our mind and send him
away on his vacation.
As we understand it, his idea is that you
shall not change the lines which he has already
drawn, but shall add to them whatever lines
you please, carrying his sketch to completion
and fitting your drawing to an advertisement
of your own, with text that seems to you suit-
able. You may cut out and use the sketch
printed above, or you may make a tracing of it.
Either will be accepted.
Between ourselves, we doubt whether Alex-
ander had any clear notion of what he was
going to draw, but we have no doubt that you
( See also
18
will be able to make out of it an interesting
picture. Of course you can put what you
please into the hands of the figure, make a
background to suit yourself, add lettering, and
so really construct . an advertisement, using the
suggestion above only as a beginning. Your
drawing should be suitable either to a full page
or half page of St. Nicholas, but it is desir-
able that the size should not be larger, either
way, than twelve inches.
The prizes will be given for the best adver-
tisements submitted, both text and drawing
being considered. Care and neatness will count
in awarding the prizes, which are as follows :
One First Prize, $5.00 to the one who submits the
best advertisement.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each to those who submit
the next best advertisements.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each to those who submit
the next best advertisements.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each to those who submit
the next best advertisements.
Here are the rules and regulations :
1. This competition is open freely to all who may
desire to compete, without charge or consideration
of any kind. Prospective contestants need not be
subscribers for St. Nicholas in order to compete
for the prizes offered.
2. In the upper left-hand corner of your paper give
name, age, address, and the number of this competi-
tion (125).
3. Submit answers by May io, 1912. Use ink. Do
not inclose stamps.
4. Do not inclose requests for League badges or
circulars. Write separately for these if you wish them,
addressing St. Nicholas League.
5. Be sure to comply with these conditions if you
wish to win prizes.
6. Address answers: Advertising Competition No.
125, St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York.
page 20.)
ST, NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Jwo liftie
or yedrs
of regret
later on
IT is common sense to care
for your teeth regularly
— and it takes but little
time each day. You'll have
better teeth, better looks and
better health if you use
COLGATE'S
RIBBON DENTAL CREAM
Cleans safely, with no harmful grit to scratch or cut.
Cleans antiseptic ally, checking decay-germs and leaving
the mouth sweet, clean and non-acid.
Cleans pleasantly, with a delicious flavor that you '11 like.
Take care of your teeth and you '11 have better
health for sport or study — for work or play.
Ask Mother to get you a tube — or send 4. cents postage for a generous trial size. Ask for "The
Jungle Poiv IVo'VO^^ too, for your little brother or sister — a funny animal rhyme book with colored
pictures. It 's free.
COLGATE & GO.
Dept. 60 199 Fulton Street New York
Makers of Cashmere Bouquet Toilet Soap — luxurious, lasting, refined
19
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
Report on Advertising Competition No. 123
In looking over the answers sent
in this time, and noting the mis-
takes made, the Judges are won-
dering if some of you did n't find
that March wind very much of a
gale. There is an old saying
about its being " an ill wind that
blows nobody good," which
seems to be true here because
some of you in chasing the bits
of paper that blew out of Alex-
ander's portfolio made some very
interesting discoveries about St.
Nicholas advertisements. And
it blew somebody good, too, as
you will notice from the list of
prize winners.
But to come back to the inter-
esting discoveries. A great many
found that " O'Sullivan's Heels
of New Live Rubber" was the
article advertised and not "O'Sul-
livan's Rubber Heels." Quite a
number also learned how March
received its name. How many
of you know how our Quaker
friends speak of the various
months, and why?
There were many excellent
essays, but they were accom-
panied by lists containing mis-
takes and of course could not be
ranked with those which had both
good essays and correct lists.
Most of the mistakes, the
Judges are sorry to say, were
careless ones. You see, it really
does pay to do things with
thought and care, and those of
you who are disappointed in not
getting prizes this time, just make
up your minds to get into the
habit of always being careful and
thoughtful in whatever you do.
Take for example the word
"The" which occurred as part
of the name in some of the ar-
ticles advertised. Quite a few did
not pay any attention to this, and
of course their papers could not
be considered as highly as those
who took care to write the names
of the articles as they appeared.
Everything considered, how-
ever, most of you did very well.
The prize winners, whose name^
follow, did excellent work: 1
One First Prize, $5.00 :
Horton H. Honsaker, age 14, California.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each:
Lenore J. Hughes, age 14, Massachusetts.
Arthur Nethercot, age 16, Illinois.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each :
James F. White, age 13, Ohio.
Elvene A. Winkleman, age 9, Minnesota.
Gertrude Welling, age 16, New York.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each:
Gilberta G. Torrey, age 13, Ohio.
Paul Olsen, age 1 5, Washington.
Elisabeth Sutherland, age 1 2, Massachusetts.
Hortense Hogue, age 13, Oregon.
Clara McMillen, age 13, Indiana.
Byron Webb, age 10, Kentucky.
Tom Whinery, age 1 2, Michigan.
Malcolm Good, age 13, Ohio.
Anna S. Gifford, age 1 5, Maine.
Anna E. Greenleaf, age 17, New York.
HONORABLE MENTION :
Dorothy Handsaker, age 13, Washington.
Edith M. Johnston, age 1 2, Washington, D. C.
(See also page 18.)
20
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
if bought separately, an
convenient nor so up to
Here are some of th<
library, however small:
English Dictionary
Atlas
Cyclopedia
Thesaurus
Book of Ouotations
Dictionary of Authors
Biographical Dictionary
Lexicon
Classical Dictionary
Gazetteer
History of the World
as well as many books on arts, s
All these books and man
together in The CentuH
copiously illustrated wi
plates, maps, charts or di
in twelve compact, clearl
niflcently bound volum
This coupon bri
information. Tear it o
fill out and mail to us
today.
The CENTURY CO.
Union Square, New York
Cyclopedia & Atlas
23
ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE
perforate ; that is, the stamps are issued in rolls
instead of sheets as ordinarily. These rolls are
either sidewise or lengthwise of the stamp. More-
over, the perforations, instead of being the usual
size of twelve, are only size eight, which means
twelve holes or perforations in a space of twenty
millimeters. Such stamps have no perforations
either at the sides, or ends, as the case may be. A
series of these in shades would add to the interest
of the collection.
Our correspondent might go further and collect
her stamps in pairs, for here again occur differences.
Some stamps on the sheet are only two millimeters
apart, others three millimeters.
Perhaps by the time these words reach the readers
of St. Nicholas, the new two-cent stamp with nu-
merals in the corners will be in use. It might be
interesting for other readers of this page to begin
a similar collection with the first specimens of the
new stamp. Give a full page to each perforation,
both singly and in pairs, and see how many shades
of each kind you can find. There is no limit to the
pleasure of such a search.
"DON'T"
THERE are a few important don'ts which are of
interest to the beginner, and one of the most
important of these is "don't" get discouraged. A
good collection takes time, and patience, and perse-
verance. Things which seem difficult at first will
soon become like "a, b, c." Then, don't paste
your stamps in your album — use prepared hinges.
These cost only a few cents per thousand, and will
preserve your stamps. Don't fasten unused stamps
with their own gum. Don't trim the perforation off
the stamps. Don't handle your stamps unless your
hands are clean. Don't cut your envelop stamps
round ; have them square, and with large margins.
Don't buy several cheap packets unless they are from
a non-duplicating series. The cheaper stamps will
be duplicated in each packet. Don't buy a stamp
unless it is a good copy. Avoid all stamps that are
damaged, or very heavily canceled. If you have a
printed album, don't put any stamp into it until you
are sure which is the proper place for it. Examine
the perforations and water-mark before putting the
stamp into the album ; it is sometimes hard to
remove them, and even with the best hinges there
is the possibility of injury to both stamp and album.
If you should get a stamp in the wrong place, don't
try to remove it until the gum has had time to dry.
The peelable hinges can be removed much easier
after they have dried than when just applied and
still moist. If the corner perforations get turned
under, don't try to bend them back without first
moistening the stamp ; this makes the paper more
pliable. If you get an imperforate pair, don't sever
the stamps ; keep the pair intact. Don't throw away
a stamp because it looks dirty ; sometimes a soft
sponge and a little benzine and water will make a
soiled stamp worthy of a place in any collection.
And don't forget that the editor of the Stamp Page
will always be glad to help you over any difficulties
which may arise if you will tell him about them.
ONE of the St. Nicholas girls writes that she
has formed a very interesting collection just of
the every-day two-cent stamp. • She has collected as
many shades of it as she could find, arranging these
in rows, the lighter shades at the left and the darker
at the right. She has many shades not only of the
perforated but of the imperforate varieties, and
writes for suggestions toward making the page more
complete and attractive.
The advantages of such a collection are evident.
It can be easily made. The stamps are everywhere
and cost nothing, while there is much training of
eye and mind in the making of it. One learns much
about color, and the eye is trained to note slight
differences. Such a collection is called, technically,
"specializing." The collection can be broadened
considerably. The current two-cent stamp is issued
not only perforate and imperforate, but also part-
fe23^aaaggSg222Zg222S^S582gg22222gga22ag2222g232SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSgSSSSSSSSSS^Sa
24
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY
THE CONTINENTAL S^JgMS
best on the market. 8x5 inches, holds 560 stamps, 160 illustrations.
Special bargain price 10c. 108 all different stamps from Paraguay,
Turkey, Venezuela, etc.. 10c. Finest approval sheets at 50 per
cent, discount. Agents wanted. Write for a selection to-day.
Scott Stamp & Coin Co., 127 Madison Ave., New York City.
TAKE NOTICE
U. S. Envelopes cut square at 50% discount, each one correctly
numbered.
NEW DIME SETS
4 Ecuador 1899, 2 Nyassa 1901, 4 Nyassa Rep. 1911, 5 Portugal
Rep. 1910, 5 Japan (China) 1900-08, 4 Finland 1885, 7 Portugal
1910, 5 Finland 1882, 6 Nicaragua 1912. 1912 Price List free.
Best Hinges. Ideal 15c. per 10Q0. Ideal Jr. 10c. per 1000.
New England Stamp Co.
43 Washington Building Boston, Massachusetts
^SHJSs. STAMP ALBUM and 1000 foreign mixed, 10c.
/ftpafi&k 1000 Old U. S., 25c. 25 rare So. and Cent. Am., 10c.
■£ Ml 25 diff. unused, Cuba, Nit, Salv., Phil., etc., 10c.
IVV mm] 25 diff. rare (Catal. $2.50), only 25c. 15 diff. China,
WSRg/ 10c. 7 Siam, 12c. 10 Finland, 4c. 3 Soudan Camel,
N5£5S5' 5c. 8 beautiful Borneo, Labuan, etc., pictures, lOc.
25 Persia, 25c. 25 Japan, 5c. 150 all diff. , 6c. 200 all diff., 9c. 8 Java,
5c. 5 Crete, 5c. 1000 best hinges, 5c. 100 all diff. free for names
of two active Stamp Collectors and 2c. postage ! Finest Approval
sheets in America at 50% to 80% discount. Try them ! Large
112 pp. Bargain Lists. $3.00 worth of Coupons, etc., free! We
give valuable stamps free to our agents ! We Buy Stamps and
Large Collections. C. E. Hussman Stamp Co., St. Louis, Mo.
RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
/^j^jjs. with Catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents. Ifpossiblesend
ytfjj^wft names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special
/■( JM| offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
WSLWMI Uc;40 Japan, 5c ; 100 U. S.,20c; 1" Paraguay, 7c; 17
\f$!ff&y Mexico, 10c.;20Turkey, 7c. :10 Persia, 7c. -.3 Sudan, 5c;
^^HB^ lOChile, 3c;50 Italy, 19c.;200 Foreign, 10c; 10 Egypt,
7c. ;50 Africa. 24c; 3 Crete, 3c; 20 Denmark, 5c;20 Portugal, 6c; 7
Siam, 15c;10 Brazil, 5c; 7 Malay, 10c; 10 Finland, 5c; 50 Persia,
89c. ;50 Cuba, 60c; 6 China, 1c, 8 Bosnia, 7c Remitin Stamps or
Money-Order. Fine approval sheets 50% Discount, 50 Page List
Free. Marks Stamp Company, Dept. N, Toronto, Canada
STAMPS' CHEAP! 333 GENUINE FOR=
ij 1 ./-VlYir <J . eig^ Missionary stamps, 5c. 100
foreign, no two alike, inch India, Newfoundland, etc.,
only 5c 100 U. S. all diff., scarce lot, only 30c. 1000
fine mixed, 15c. Agts. wtd., 50%. List free. I buy
stamps. L. B. Dover, D-6, St. Louis, Mo.
75
0 / Discount from cat. prices and stamp worth 15c free
0 to those writing for our approval sheets.
Centennial Stamp Co., Nashville, Tenn.
STAMPS FREE, 100 ALL DIFFERENT.
For the names of two collectors and 2c postage. 20 different
foreign coins, 25c Toledo Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio, U.S.A.
STAMPS 108 ALL DIFFERENT.
Transvaal, Servia, Brazil, Peru, Cape G. H., Mex- I
ico, Natal, Java, etc., and Album, 10c. 1000 Finely
Mixed, 20c 65 different U. S., 25c 1000 hinges, 5c
Agents wanted, 50 per cent. List Free. I buy stamps.
C. Stegman, 5941 Cote Brilliante Av., St. Louis, Mo.
RARHAINS EACH set 5 CENTS.
unnurtllio 10 Luxembourg ; 8 Finland ; 20 Sweden ;
15 Russia ; 8 Costa Rica ; 12 Porto Rico ; 8 Dutch Indies ; 5
Crete. Lists of 6000 low-priced stamps free.
Chambers Stamp Co., Ill G Nassau Street, New York City.
70
DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS FROM 70 DIF-
ferent Foreign Countries, including Bolivia, Crete, Guat-
emala, Gold Coast, Hong-Kong, Mauritius, Monaco, Persia,
Reunion, Tunis, Trinidad, Uruguay, tic. /or only 15 cents — a
genuine bargain. With each order we send our pamphlet which
tells all about "How to Make a Collection of Stamps Properly."
Queen City Stamp & Coin Co., 7 Sinton Bldg., Cincinnati^.
STAMPS 100 VARIETIES FOREIGN, FREE. Postage 2c.
Mention St. Nicholas. Quaker Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio.
DANDY PACKET STAMPS free for name, address 2 collec-
tors, 2c postage. Send to-day. U.T.K. Stamp Co., Utica, N. Y.
STAMPS 105 China, Egypt,etc.,stanvpdictionaryandlist3000 (J51
bargains 2c Agts., 50%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. !!si
5 VARIETIES PERU FREE.
With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N. Y.
POIMS 20 different foreign, 25c. Large U. S. cent, 5c 5
V-'VyillO different Confederate State bills, 15c.
F. L. Toupal Co., Dept. 55, Chicago Heights, III.
FREE! 3 DIFFERENT SOUDAN, 5 DIFFERENT TUNIS.
or Nicaragua 1878 5c, cat. 25c. One of these sets, big lists,
and details of $1000 prize stamp contest for 2c. postage. Fine
50% approvals. W. C. Phillips & Co., Glastonbury, Conn.
50 VARIETIES U.S. STAMPS 6c.
125 varieties foreign stamps 3c. 250 mixed foreign 4c. 1000 mixed
12c 40 Japan with approval sheets for 2c postage and names of
two collectors. pALM Stamp Co.
249 No. Carondelet St. Los Angeles, Cal.
TWO magazines that are kept
for leisurely reading and read-
ing again :
THE CENTURY
ST. NICHOLAS
Their quality is invariably high.
They retain their circulation by
steady excellence — not by fire-
works.
They keep your advertisement
in good company, and take it
into good company.
A Child's Delight
A SHETLAND PONY
is an unceasing source of
pleasure. A sat'e and ideal
playmate. Makes the child
strong and of robust health.
Highest type— complete out-
fi t s — here. Inexpensive.
Satisfaction guaranteed. Write
for illustrated catalog.
BELLE MEADE FARM
Box 9, Markham, Va,
Class Pins
For School, College or Soci-
ety. The right kind are always
a source of pleasure. Why
not get the right kind? We
make them. Catalog free.
FLOWER CITY CLASS PIN CO., 656 Central Building, Rochester, N. Y.
HEALTH
MERRY-GO-ROUND
Provides health-pro-
moting", outdoor exer-
cise and amusement
for your children at
home. Strongly built;
repair proof. Children
operate it with hands and feet. Every machine guaranteed. Free
trial. Write us.
HEALTH MERRY-GO-ROUND CO.,
217 Ky. St. Quincy, 111.
25
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Helpful Support
for Growing Feet
Weakness in the growing foot struc-
ture causes the arch to fall and the
ankle to "turn in."
The Coward Arch Support Shoe
rests tired arch ligaments, while the
Coward Extension Heel further re-
lieves the arch strain, and keeps the
ankle upright.
This shoe is built on a special
Coward Last, which fits perfectly.
The broad "tread" encourages the
child to walk naturally and confidently,
because the foot muscles are con-
trolled, helped, and protected.
Coward Arch Support Shoe and Cow-
ard Extension Heel have been made
by James S. Coward, in his Custom
Department, for over thirty years.
Mail Orders Filled— Send for Catalogue
SOLD NOWHERE ELSE
JAMES S. COWARD
264-274 Greenwich St., New York City
(near warren street)
26
Helps to Spring Fun
The Second
BOYS' BOOK
OF MODEL
AEROPLANES
By Francis Arnold Collins
The book of books for every lad, and
every grown-up too, who has been caught
in the fascination of model aeroplane
experimentation, covering up to date the
science and sport of model aeroplane
building and' flying, both in this country
and abroad.
There are detailed instructions for
building fifteen of the newest models,
with a special chapter devoted to parlor
aviation, full instructions for building
small paper gliders, and rules for con-
ducting model aeroplane contests.
The illustrations are from interesting
photographs and helpful working draw-
ings of over one hundred new models.
The price, $1.20 net, postage 11 cents
The Author's Earlier Book
THE BOYS' BOOK OF
MODEL AEROPLANES
It tells just how to build "a glider," a
motor, monoplane and biplane models,
and how to meet and remedy common
faults — all so simply and clearly that
any lad can get results. The story of
the history and development of aviation
is told so accurately and vividly that it
cannot fail to interest and inform young
and old.
Many helpful illustrations
The price, $1.20 net, postage 14 cents
All booksellers, or send direct to the
publishers :
THE CENTURY CO.
ST. NICHOLAS AD
A Blessing to Mothers
A mother thinks carefully when
choosing an ointment for her baby's
tender skin. It must be pure
through and through — must contain
nothing that can possibly harm.
That is what makes "Vaseline"
such a great blessing to mothers. .
It is pure — absolutely pure — the
best and safest ointment for the skin
from earliest infancy.
Vasel
me
For the skin to look well it must be well.
"Vaseline" is a wonderful cleanser of the skin.
It goes into the pores and takes away all dirt
and impurities with it. It keeps the skin fresh,
clear, and soft, as Nature made it.
That is why "Vaseline" should be used al-
ways by every woman who wants to keep her
child's skin in good condition and her own skin
"like a child's."
There are several different preparations of " Vaseline,"
put up in collapsible tin tubes. These insure untainted pu-
rity. No dust or dirt can reach the contents — not even your
own hands touch it until the moment of use. Be sure you get
" Vaseline."
Our free " Vaseline " booklet tells all about these prepara-
tions, as well as many other things of interest to mothers.
Write for your copy to-day.
CHESEBROUGH MFG. CO.
16J4 State Street,
New York.
(Consolidated)
Branch Offices:
London — Montreal.
BORDEN'S
EAGLE BRAND
CONDENSED MILK
Has been the
Leading Brand
for Nur s ery and
Household Use
BORDEN'S
Condensed
Milk Co.
New York
" Send for Recipe Book.
Send for Baby's Book."
"LEADERS OF QVAUTf
27
IDVERTISEMENTS
is for 3-in-One — the perfect bicycle oil. It oils the bearings
exactly right and makes them run about 100 times easier.
3-in-One won't collect dirt, gum and hurt your wheels like
inferior greasy oils. 3-in-One cleans and polishes all metal
parts, and absolutely prevents rust.
Always use 3-in-One on every part of your gun, just
like any sportsman. Every gunner will tell you it 's the
only oil on earth. Try 3-in-One also on your ice and roller
skates, fishing reel, golf clubs, scroll saw, camera, printing
press, magic lantern, and every tool in your tool chest.
A few drops of 3-in-One will preserve and keep pliable
your catcher's gloves ; also prevent rust on your mask.
PD 1717 Write this very day for a generous free sam-
X J\J-jI-i pie and the helpful 3-in-One Dictionary.
Both free to live boys. Get yours now!
3-in-One is sold at all drug, grocery, and general
stores, in 3-size bottles: 10c, 25c, 50c.
3-in-One Oil Co.
42 Q. B. Broadway - New York City
'Silver Tlate
|by the largest makers of silverware.
INNIA COMPANY, MERIOEN, CONN.
national Silver Co., Successor)
CHICAGO SAN FRANCISCO
Send for
catalogue " S-5 .
You can "scratch off a
few lines" with any old
kind of a pen, but when you have
real writing to do and lot3 of it,
your pen needs to be a
Spencerian
Spencerian Pens don't scratch, 6plotch or
6plntter. They glide smoothly over any
writing paper, under any hand writing.
Sample card of 12 different styles
and 2 good penholders sent for 10 cts.
SPENCERIAN PEN CO.
349 Broadway, N. Y.
HO, FOR
THE HAPPYLAND CLUB!
Every American boy and girl should be-
long to HARPER'S BAZAR'S great
Happyland Club. If you have not yet
joined, send a postal card to-day, and get
a beautiful red and gold membership
card and
Address
full details about the club, m
Aunt Joy, Harper's Bazar,
Franklin Square New York |
HI IlillllllilllllHIIIIIIII i :. ■:■■ llJIllllllllillHHIIIIillflnri' ■"'i"i,'i""i illllilllllll
DAISYS
Wholesome, hearty fun, and manly
training for the live American boy.
"Daisy Special" 1000-shot $2.50
Other Daisy models, 50 cents to $2.00
We dare you to ask your boy if he wants one
AT ALL DEALERS
Daisy Manufacturing Co., Plymouth, Mich.
28
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
■■■-■ "•■■-
■f-rf^
'"I',
We
Bl 7 A ±.
wa
',
Let 's all have a good time
HERE'S a Junket Party. The original is in bright, pretty colors — size, 8x12
inches. See what a good time the children are having eating Junket, and
others are coming to join them. ^ You may have a good time, too, making
and eating Junket — so easy to make, so good to eat, and unlike any other
dessert. Junket Desserts are made with milk and Junket Tablets. Just fine to
give to your friends when they come to your real party. Qf All you need do is to send
your name and address and Ten Cents, and you 11 get this beautiful toy, a Junket Recipe Book, and
a full-size package of Junket — enough for ten parties. We will send, all charges prepaid, three
packages of Junket with book and toy for 25 cents. <J Sit down right now and write for them.
THE JUNKET FOLKS
Chr. Hansen's Laboratory, LITTLE FALLS, N. Y.
"The difference be-
tween knowledge and
wisdom is the differ-
ence between seeing
an opportunity and
seizing it."
—CHARLES CLARK MUNN
Great are the opportunities
offered by St. Nicholas
to reliable advertisers and
wise is that advertiser who
does not overlook the
young folks.
[jMlLLARflSjll
BREAKFAST)
COCOA
A Cocoa
of
Peculiar
Excellence
The growing
child, even more
than the parent, needs
nourishing and build-
ing food. Cocoa is the
ideal sustenance— but be •
sure it's Maillard's.
At All Leading Grocers
Fifth Avenue at 35th Street
CHOCOLATES, BONBONS, FRENCH BONBONNIERES
Afternoon tea, three to six,
in the Luncheon Restaurant
29
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
szssssssssssssssssssssssssss^^
Wanted —
More Friends
St. Nicholas has enjoyed the friend-
ship* of many advertisers since
1873, quite a number of whom are
still using our pages.
This friendship is based upon the
intimate relation which exists (and
has existed for nearly forty years)
between St. Nicholas and some
thousands of boys and girls and
some other thousands of grown-ups
belonging to families that make
good customers.
Perhaps if YOU and St. Nicho-
las were to "get acquainted" you,
too, would become good friends.
DON M. PARKER
Advertising Manager
Union Square, New York
•Friendship: — A mutual interest based on intimate acquaintance
and esteem : the feeling that moves persons to seek each other's
society or to promote each other's welfare. Century Dictionary.
3°
J
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
The Candy Problem is Solved
and Solved for You!
When your wife says, "Bring home some candy"
— all you have to remember is
"PETER'S
MILK CHOCOLATE
»
Peter's is fresh ! No matter whether you buy it at the
news-stand or in the biggest candy shop, the Peter
Process and the Peter Package guarantee its absolute
freshness.
Peter's is pure! Peter's is made of the freshest, purest
milk, carefully tested by experts — and of the finest
grade of cocoa beans.
Peter's is delicious! It has the most wonderful flavor —
a flavor that always says "more." You never grow
tired of Peter's. It never creates thirst.
It is the Business of the Peter
Factory to Give You Good
Chocolate Candy
Mr. Daniel Peter invented milk chocolate
over thirty years ago, and has been making it
ever since.
" High as the Alps in Quality "
31
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
*?J
'he cleanliness wrought by Ivory Soap is
like the fmhness of a bright spring
morning. For Ivory Soap not only
removes the stains of soot and soil but restores
to its users and to their belongings that charm-
ing glow of clear, natural beauty which makes
them look their best.
Ivory Soap produces this perfect, glowing cleanliness because it is so far above tbe
ordinary in quality — because it is pure — because it contains no "free" (uncombined)
alkali.
Ivory Soap .... 994^>° Per L<ent. Pure
, J*
32
[The entire contents of this Magazine arecovered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission. ]
CONTENTS OF ST. NICHOLAS FOR JUNE, 1912.
Frontispiece. Homeward Bound. Illustrating the story "For 'Maginative Page
People Only!" Drawn by C. M. Relyea.
For 'Maginative People Only! Story Dorothy Canfieid 675
Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
The Tease. Verse Minnie Leona Upton 683
The Society Circus. (" Ballads of the Be-Ba-Boes.") Verse D.K.Stevens 684
Illustrated by Katharine M. Daland.
Positively the Oldest Inhabitant Augusta Hulell Seaman 688
Illustrated from a photograph.
A Puritan Maying. Story M. Eloise Talbot 690
Illustrated by Edwin J. Prittie.
The Siesta. Verse Carl Werner 696
Illustrated from a photograph.
" The Twins." Picture. Drawn by Gertrude Kay 697
House-Builders to the Birds Harriet Gillespie 698
Illustrated from photographs.
The Boy and the Bird. Verse •. Charles F. Hardy 700
Illustrated.
The Sensitive Plant. Verse Mary s. Cowles Clark 701
Illustrated by the Author.
.The Lucky Sixpence. Serial Story j *££*££££ and } . . 702
Illustrated by Arthur Becher. I A1Cten Artnur AnlPe J
Tranquillity Disturbed. (An Aztec Jingle.) Verse J. G. Francis 710
Illustrated by the Author.
The Great June Parade in Beetleburg. Picture. Drawn by Harrison
Cady 711
The World We Live In. ( " Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects. " ) . . George Lawrence Parker 712
A Clue Chase F. F. H 713
Illustrated.
Who-00 ? Verse Jean Halifax 714
Illustrated by Maurice Clifford.
Sight-Seeing in the Sudan. Picture. Drawn by Culmer Barnes 715
The Townsend Twins— Camp Directors. Serial Story Warren L. Eidred 715
Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
Princess Mary Marion Ryan 723
Illustrated from photographs.
Playing the Game. (Base-ball Series.) C. H. Claudy 726
Illustrated with diagrams and from photographs.
The Lady of the Lane. Serial Story Frederick Orin Bartlett 734
Illustrated by E. C. Caswell.
The " Book Line " Montrose J. Moses 740
Illustrated from photographs.
Nature and Science for Young Folks 747
Illustrated.
For Very Little Folk :
SFBSFoB} Verse Katharine M.Daland 754
Illustrated by the Author.
St. Nicholas League. With awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems,
Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles 756
Illustrated.
Books and Reading Hildegarde Hawthorne 764
The Letter-Box 766
The Riddle-Box 767
Illustrated.
St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 24
The •Century Co. and its editors receive manuscripts and art material, submitted for publica-
tion, only on the understanding that they shall not be responsible for loss or injury thereto
while in their possession or in transit. Copies of manuscripts should be retained by the authors.
Subscription price, $3.00 a year; single number, 25 cents. The half-yearly parts of ST. NICHOLAS end with
the October and April numbers respectively, and the red cloth covers are ready with the issue of these numbers ; price 50 cents, by mail,
postpaid ; the two covers for the complete volume, $1.00. We bind and furnish covers for '/5 cents per part, or $1.50 for the complete
volume. (Carriage extra.) In sending the numbers to us, they should be distinctly marked with owner's name. Bound volumes are
not exchanged for numbers.
Persons ordering a change in the direction of Magazines must give both the old and the new address in full. No change can be
made after the 5th of any month in the address of the Magazine for the following month. PUBLISHED MONTHLY.
FRANK H. SCOTT, President. «,.«..« ■■_-—...-- ..-.. -.-. _ — . ^. «— — - , -_ -—
WILLIAM W. ELLSWORTH, Vice-President and Secretary. THE CENTURY CO., UniOn Square, NeW York, N. Y.
DONALD SCOTT, Treasurer.
Entered as second-class matter at the Post-Office Department, Canada.
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
.-<m>~
A Glimpse Into
Elizabeth Now A Mysteries of
Tennis Champion Gen. Knox's Home
The Fourth In A Short Serial
The Townsend Camp For Little Girls
New Base-ball Series
IT These boys and girls have hurried up to see what is on the St. Nicholas Bulletin. Presently they will go awa;j
and tell their friends about the treats in St. Nicholas, and their friends will ask their parents to subscribe.
IT Do you tell your friends how much you like St. Nicholas?
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Coming Numbers
Fire Fighters Aviation A
In Cities Abroad Hundred Years Ago
A Girl Swimmer Our Battle-ships
Who Has Saved Lives At Gun Practice
"Playing The Game"
St. Nicholas in 1912 is a better comrade than ever for boys and girls of all ages. Beside the splendid
trials there will be scores of short stories, jolly jingles, beautiful pictures, and interesting, valuable articles.
Three dollars a year. The Century Co., Union Square, New York.
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
0
=3©C=
3 0 C
=OQC=
0
0
A Book for Every Boy
THE BATTLE OF
BASE-BALL
By G. H. Glaudy
THE BATTLE
OF BASE-BALL
All of the interesting material which has
appeared in St. Nicholas — and much
more.
A book which gets at the heart of the
great American game, and tells of it
from a boy's standpoint — every page
snappy and alive.
A book which shows a boy not only
the wonders done by skilled players on
fine teams, but how he, too, can become skilful, and, in
part at least, can do for himself and for his team what
his favorite base-ball idol does frequently in a game of
the Major and Minor Leagues.
Christy Mathewson tells " How I Became a 'Big-
League' Pitcher," and there are pages of pictures from
photographs of famous players, managers, and base-ball
fields.
The Author Himself is
"Crazy About Base-ball"
The price of the book is $1.50 net, postage 11 cents extra
THE CENTURY CO.
0
O0C=
0
=30C=
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
T®t£
sAe for Home
[©isiie. Commfort
Invaluable
In
Every
Home
;ntuhy coon
By Mary Ronald
Indispensable for the novice in kitchen lore, helpful for the experienced cook. Economy, prac-
ticability, and the resources of the average kitchen have been constantly in mind in the prepar-
ation of this complete and satisfactory book, which covers every culinary point, from preparation
of the simplest meal to the planning and serving of a state dinner.
Helpfully illustrated. 600 pages. Price $2.00, postage paid.
LUMC1EOMS 8 A C®ollp© Picture B@©K
By Mary Ronald
A rich mine of suggestive hints on dainty and tempting dishes for dainty and tempting meals,
and all possible information on every detail relating to the planning, cooking, and serving of
every luncheon, from a pick-up family meal to the most formal company affair.
Many illustrations from photographs. Price $1 .40 net, postage 15 cents.
By Maria Parloa
Here is a royal guide to the making and managing of an ideal home, covering, practically and
helpfully, every possible detail of housekeeping and home-making.
Helpful illustrations. Price $ 1 .50.
A HANDBOOK OF INVALID C0O5HINQ
By Mary A. Boland
It is based on the scientific study of an expert; but its simple directions may be followed by any
housekeeper. A great aid in planning the children's meals ; invaluable in any case of illness.
Price $2.00.
By Dr. Leroy M. Yale and Gustav Pollak
A guide — authoritative, practical, unfailingly helpful — to the wise care of children, in health
and illness. Price $2.00 net, postage 18 cents.
BOX FURNITURE
By Louise Brigham
It tells just how to make, and to have fun in the
making, one hundred simple, serviceable, artistic,
and fascinating things in the furniture line. One
hundred illustrations, showing results actually ac-
complished. Price $l60 neU postage 14 cenfa.
THE BOOH OF CH HL-
D1EM9S PARTIES
By Mary and Sara White
Happy suggestions for happy times every month in
the year. Every parent and every teacher should
have it. Illustrated. Price $1.00 net, postage 7 cents.
'K&aosi. Sqjua^r©
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Breakfast
Cocoa
Good health and good sense are two of
life's greatest blessings "
Reg. U. S. Patent Office
It shows good sense and is
conducive to good health
to use Baker's Cocoa. It
is a pure and healthful
drink of high food value
with a most delicious
Every Package flavor, the natural flavor
of the best cocoa beans,
which makes its constant
use so agreeable and
satisfying. One never
tires of it.
85-86.
HOMEWARD BOUND.
(ILLUSTRATING STORY, "FOR 'IMAGINATIVE PEOPLE ONLY!" PAGE 680.'
ST. NICHOLAS
Vol. XXXIX
JUNE, 1912
No. 8
FOR 'MAGINATIVE PEOPLE ONLY!
DOROTHY
CANFIELD
Any boy or girl who has to be warned about the
dangers of the 'magination may read this story.
Other folks keep away. Only if you don't know
what the dangers of the 'magination are, you
might as well read it and find out.
It is something that happened to us. In fact,
it has just this minute got through happening,
and I 'm sitting down to write it out while Pete
and Sallie can help me remember. The baby was
in it, too, but he is so little that he does n't count.
It began about one o'clock this afternoon— it 's
nearly six now — when we heard Nora come in
great excitement down the stairs. We can always
tell if she is coming in excitement or not, because
if she 's quiet in her mind, she only trips two or
Copyright, 1912, by The Century Co
675
three times. If she 's excited, it sounds as though
she fell all the way from the top to the bottom.
This time— well, we all jumped up from the lunch-
table, perfectly sure she had broken herself to
pieces.
But she had n't. She was even right side up
when we got there. But she was ever so excited !
Her big, blue eyes were standing right out from
her pretty Irish face, and she could hardly talk
straight. "Th' little bur-rd ! Th' little yally bur-rd !
Somebody lift th' dure to his cage open, and he 's
gone. An' I ran to th' windy and looked out, and
I saw him in th' crab-apple-tree by th' gate !"
Nora is only over from Ireland a few months,
and does n't talk very plainly, so maybe I 'd bet-
All rights reserved.
676
FOR 'IMAGINATIVE PEOPLE ONLY!
[June,
"WE SAW HIM RUNNING DOWN THE STREET."
ter explain that what she meant to say was that
Pete's canary-bird was loose again. We have a
dreadful time with that canary. Pete 's always
forgetting to shut the door to the cage, and Dick
is forever getting out. But he never flew out-of-
doors before.
Pete looked anxious, and he and Nora ran as
fast as they could to the front door and down the
walk to the crab-apple-tree. Sallie and I stopped
to put the baby into his go-cart, for it was a lovely
warm day in May, and we knew it would do him
good to get out. When we reached the apple-
tree, Pete was n't there. We saw him running
like the wind down the street — he can run really
very fast if he is only eight. Nora was jumping
up and down (she does get so excited !), and cry-
ing to us that just as they got to the tree, they
saw Dick fly out of the upper branches and go
down toward Mrs. Albright's.
"Come, Sallie, we '11 go along and help Pete,"
I said. 'We can soon catch up with him."
"Oh, please, ma'am, can't I come, too?" said
Nora ; "I 'm so interred in th' poor little bur-rd,
so far from his home, and it 's such a grand day
and all !"
Nora has been rather homesick and low in her
mind ever since she landed, and I thought per-
haps getting out in the sunshine might do her
good. So I said she might come along if she 'd
take off her apron. It was rather crumpled. Sal-
lie suggested that we hang it on a limb of the
crab-apple-tree until we came back, but Nora
thought we might need it to wrap Dickie up in
when we brought him home, so we tucked it down
back of the baby in the go-cart, and started after
Pete.
We found him talking to young Mrs. Albright.
She was doing up lace curtains, and looked very
cross and tired and pale. We heard Pete say,
" . . . a little yellow canary-bird about as big as
that, and when he chirped, he went so." Pete
whistled.
"Oh, Mother, Mother," said Dolly Albright,
"don't you remember, just a minute ago, a little
bird came and sat on the porch railing and winked
his eye at us?"
"Oh, that 's Dickie !" said Pete. "He has such
a cunning way of winking his eye !"
"Was it a yellow bird?" I asked.
Mrs. Albright had begun to look quite inter-
ested. "Why, I do remember ! And it flew up
into the lilac bush."
"Yes, yes !" said Dolly, clapping her hands.
"And then went around the corner toward the
new tennis-courts on Elm Street."
Pete had already started as hard as he could
run toward Elm Street.
"Oh, please, Mother, may n't I go along?"
begged Dolly.
Mrs. Albright said at first, "Good gracious no,
child ! You 're not over your cold yet !" But as
■9I2-]
FOR 'IMAGINATIVE PEOPLE ONLY!
677
she looked out at the sunshine on the new grass, and
the lilacs all in blossom, she said : "Well, dear, it is a
nice day. I 've been so busy, I had n't noticed. I tell
you, Dolly, I '11 go along with you to make sure you
don't get your feet wet." She seemed to have for-
gotten all about her lace curtains, half on and half
off the drying-frames, and we none of us said a
word about them as we hurried along after
Pete, down Elm Street toward the tennis-
courts. It is quite a walk, and we almost
caught up with Pete before we were near
enough to the courts to see that a big negro
man was dragging a roller about.
As we came along, he stopped working and
leaned on the handle of the roller to stare at the
crowd. Remember, there was Pete, and Sallie, and
Nora, and the baby in the go-cart, and Mrs. Albright,
and Dolly, and me. That 's a bigger crowd than gen-
erally walks around together on the streets of our town, espe-
cially at that hour of the afternoon, when most people are sup-
posed to be busy tending to things at home.
"Wheah you-all gwine ?" called the negro, and then we saw
that it was 'Rastus Smith, who always beats our carpets for us
at house-cleaning time. Pete called to him, "Why, my little
canary-bird, Dickie — yon know Dickie — he got out of his cage,
and flew down to Mrs. Albright's and up in her lilac-bush, and
then around the corner this way. Did you — "
But 'Rastus was already down on the walk with us, his
eyes rolling so the whites showed, and he was pointing
toward the place where Elm Street turns north.
"Right dere, honey," he said ; "right dere, Mister Pete.
Not more 'n half a instanter ago, I see yo' little yaller
bu'd, flying 'long des es chipper as though he had busi-
ness to see to. He went 'Queet ! queet !' like dat
"Oh, that 's Dickie!" said Pete, Sallie, Dolly
and Nora. "That 's just the way he goes!"
"Well, foller me, folks," said 'Rastus, and
we all went along down the road. It 's
rather a long way, and the children had
time to get big bunches of dandelions.
It was too early for buttercups
tried with dandelions to see
baby liked butter, but he duck
down his fat little chin, and
gled so, it was hard to see.
At the turn of the road
" ' WHEAH
YOU-ALL GWINE? '
CALLED 'RASTUS."
678
FOR 'IMAGINATIVE PEOPLE ONLY!
[June,
'Rastus gave a start, and cried out : "Dey he ! dey
he ! Right dere by dat patch of brambleberry
bushes !"
"Oh, I see him ! I see him !" the children said,
and began to run. Mrs. Albright and Nora and
the baby and I came along after, but when we
caught up with them, as we did in a few minutes,
there was no Dickie to be seen.
"Where is he ?" asked Mrs. Albright, very much
interested. A pretty pink had come up in her
cheeks from hurrying so in the fresh air.
"He flew that way !" Sallie said. We were
now almost out in the country, standing by a field
that a farmer was plowing, with some hens peck-
ing around after him in the fresh furrows.
"No, it was that way !" said Pete positively.
' 'T was n't ary one of them ways," said 'Ras-
tus. "He went over to'des that there ho'se-chest-
nut-tree. Der ain't no question 'bout dat."
"Let 's ask the farmer," said Mrs. Albright. So
she did, explaining that it was a pet bird of the
little boy's, and that he was very fond of it, and all.
The farmer leaned on the handles of his plow
and looked down at Pete. "Well now, that 's too
bad," he said. "I 've got a little fellow 'bout your
age. He ain't got a canary, but he 's got a lame
hen that he sets great store by. I know he 'd feel
awful bad if she ran away from home."
"But did you, see my Dickie?" said Pete; "a lit-
tle yellow bird about—"
"Well, I don't know but what I did, come to
think of it," said the farmer, looking around.
"Yes, sir, I remember now. I saw him flying
along close to the ground. He went into the
woods yonder."
Pete looked pretty sober. "Oh, we '11 never
catch him there!" he said, with a tremble in his
voice and a little quiver of his lips.
The farmer took up his lines again and clucked
to his horses. "Never you fear," he said; "he
was flying real slow, as though he was tired.
We '11 find him in one of the first trees. Now,
you just walk along while I plow this furrow.
That '11 bring me to the edge of the woods, and
then I '11 tie my horses and go in with you to find
your bird."
We walked along on the grass, watching him.
None of us had ever been so near a real plow
"THE FARMER LEANED ON THE HANDLES
while it was plowing, and it was fun to watch the
bright, sharp blade go tearing through the sod
and turn up a big, brown ribbon of earth.
I9I2-]
FOR 'IMAGINATIVE PEOPLE ONLY!
679
"How good it smells !" said Mrs. Albright. "It
must be nice to live in the country."
The children were laughing over the antics of
the hens. The minute the plow started up, they
ran to get the best position behind it, and as fast
as one fat angleworm after another was turned
up, they gobbled him down. Sallie grew inter-
ested in one thin, little pullet who never could get
OF HIS PLOW AND LOOKED DOWN AT PETE."
anywhere fast enough to have her share. Some
big, greedy hen with her crop already just burst-
ing open would pounce down on the worm and
snatch it away from her. Finally, Sallie could n't
stand it any longer, and catching hold of a long,
fat fellow with her own fingers, she held it out to
the little pullet. She was so set on seeing fair
play, that she forgot entirely that usually she 's
as afraid as can be of angleworms.
Nora began to wipe her eyes. "It 'minds me of
home— the purty field and all," she said. "It 's
the happiest hour I 've seen in th' new country."
The farmer was now at the end of his furrow,
and we were at the edge of the woods. Fie tied
his horses to an oak-tree and helped us climb the
fence. "Here, I '11 carry the baby, cart and all,"
he said, and so we set off.
It was lovely in the woods — all the spring
flowers were out, and a brook ran full over clean
pebbles.
"Now, let 's see," said the farmer. "Where 'd
he be likely to go?"
And just then Pete pulled my skirt and pointed
to two men who sat in a corner of the fence, with
a pack of greasy cards in front of them. They
were such rough-looking tramps that I was very
glad the farmer and 'Rastus were with us. When
the farmer saw them, he asked them about Dick,
and began to describe him.
They did not look up from their cards. "No,
we ain't see' a yellow bird, nor any other kind,"
one said crossly, and dealt out another hand.
We went on, and 'Rastus began to chuckle.
"Dey ain! seen Dickie 'cause dey ain' look'!" he
said. "Dey said dey ain' seen him nor no other
bu'd, and dat presact minute dere was a highhole
buildin' his nes' in de tree dey had dere backs up
against, and fo' meadow-larks wuz a-sittin' on de
top fence rail, singin' fit to bu'st deyse'ves !"
And really the trouble in the woods was to pick
Dickie out from among all the other birds who
were flying and singing around. I had n't any
idea that there were so many birds in the whole
world as the farmer pointed out to us that after-
noon. He knew them, every one, and told us
680
FOR 'IMAGINATIVE PEOPLE ONLY!
[June,
ever so many things about how they built their
nests, and what color their nests were, and all,
and whether they were good-natured or quarreled
with their neighbors. He grew more and more
observant himself, and was almost as pleased as
the children when he showed them a little bunch
of leaves, and after making them guess what it
was, pointed out an opening on one side, and, in-
side, four speckled eggs, as yellow as cream. It
was an oven-bird's nest, he told them, the bird
who called, "Teacher, teacher, TEACHER!" all
the time. He said he guessed he 'd have to bring
his own little boy out and show it to him.
"I declare," he said, "I ain't been out in the
woods in springtime before in I don't know
when ! There 's always such a lot of farm-work
to do then."
Finally they did catch sight of Dickie again ;
then they kept seeing him fly from one tree to
another, very slowly they said. It was plain he
was tired. Poor Dickie, why should n't he be?
It was the first time he 'd done more than to fly
across the room and back.
At last he settled in the tiptop of an ash-tree
that was ever so straight and tall. "Now," said
the farmer, "I tell you what. We could n't catch
him now if we should climb up there. But I '11
mark the tree so, with my knife, and early, early
to-morrow morning, just before daybreak (you
know birds are so dead asleep then they can't
move), I '11 come out and get him, and bring him
into town. Will that do ?"
I said it would do very well, and that we ought
to be getting home, for it must be late. Pete
and Sallie and Dolly suddenly remembered that
they were empty down to their toes— "just
starved !"
The farmer looked at his watch, and told me it
was five o'clock. Then he said : "Now, we 've
come clear through the woods to the other side,
and my house is just over that next field. You go
along and have a drink of milk all around, and
" SO WE ALL SET OFF.
I '11 get my horses and hitch up and take you to
town. I 've got to go anyhow."
So he helped us over the fence, and went back
for his horses while we walked along through a
field that was, actually, honestly, just as I tell
you, red with wild strawberries. We kept stop-
ping to pick them, and we ate and we ate ! And
1912.]
FOR 'IMAGINATIVE PEOPLE ONLY!
681
they were so good, and it took us so long that the
farmer was at the house before we were.
There were a lot of cups of cool milk and a
plate of cookies set out on a tray on the porch,
and the farmer called to us from the barn where
he was hitching up, that his wife had put them
i -J
a won-
for we
is.
they 'd
tus began.
there for us. We sat down on the steps, and
drank the milk and ate the cookies, and we agreed
that never in all our lives had we tasted anything
so good. Then we wet our handkerchiefs in the
watering-trough and put them around the big
bouquets of wild flowers we had picked in the
woods, and then the farmer came rattling out of
the barn.
He had hitched up to a hay-wagon with a deep
layer of straw, just the kind you read about, and
he lifted us all in pell-mell, laughing and squeal-
ing. AH 'cept the baby. We laid him down on
Nora's apron, turned clean side out (you see it
was a good thing we had that along) in a nest
of the straw ; and
he went sound
asleep that very
minute, and neve'r
woke up all the
way in.
It was
der, too,
made a lot of noise. A
straw-ride, we found out, is
just as much fun as they say it
The children sang some songs
learned at school, and then 'Ras-
We none of us ever dreamed he
had such a lovely voice. We are going to get
him to sing for us at our next school enter-
tainment. He sang one lovely old negro song after
another, some funny and some sad, and we ap-
plauded after each one as though we were at a
concert. It was like a concert, he sang so well.
When we got back to the tennis-court, he
climbed down and went to rolling again. "I
hopes you gets yo' bu'd all right," he called after
us. "I 'm much obliged fo' takin' me 'long !"
At the Albrights's we dropped Dolly and her
mother. ''I 've had a lovely time !" said Mrs.
Albright, holding up the big bunch of white
violets. "Do let me know about it when you get
Dickie back."
When the hay-wagon drove up to our house,
we all began to shout at the tops of our voices to
make Bridget (Nora's aunt and our cook) come
out and see us. We were dying to surprise her !
She 's a very good cook, and nice when the chil-
dren are sick, but she 's a cross old thing who
682
FOR 'IMAGINATIVE PEOPLE ONLY:
[June,
never will be the least bit interested or pleased in
anything, nor show that everything is n't just the
way she expected it to be. You know there 's
" ' l'aving me to half break my neck over that
squawkin' little dickie bird ! ' '
nothing more disagreeable than somebody who
won't be surprised. We thought this time we
surely would give her a turn, driving up that way
in a hay-wagon, with our hands full of wild
flowers, and Pete's cap running over with wild
strawberries he 'd picked for his father's supper ;
but Bridget hardly looked at us when she came
out — only at the strawberries, and then she
sniffed. "That '11 be all you get fer ye'r supper,"
she said ; "I ain't had no time to cook, you-all
running away to pleasure yourselves in the woods,
and l'aving me to half break my neck over that
squawkin' little Dickie bird !"
Remember there were now in the hay-wagon,
Pete, and Sallie, and Nora, and the farmer, and
me— the baby was still asleep, and he could n't
talk anyhow. Well, as true as true, it sounded as
though just one person with a monstrous big
voice shouted out, "DICK ! I !" we all said it to-
gether so.
"Yes, Dick!" snapped Bridget, crossly. "Just
after you-all went out, I heard him squallin'.
Master Pete had lift the dure to th' cage open
again, and th' little fool bird had flew out and
got his feet tangled up in the net curtains. I had
to climb on a step-ladder to git him down — me at
my age — and the rheumatism in me knees some-
thing fierce !"
It was so still when she stopped talking, you
could hear the little chink of the bits in the
horses' mouths. Nobody said a word until I asked
Nora, in a very queer-sounding voice, "But, Nora,
I thought you looked out of the window and saw
him fly into the crab-apple-tree?"
And Nora said (her voice was very queer-
sounding, too, and she hung down her head) :
"Sure, now I mind me that th' windy was shut."
There was such a great noise back of me just
then that I thought something had exploded. It
was the farmer laughing. And then I laughed.
And then Pete and Sallie did. And then all of a
sudden, Nora threw back her head, and her laugh
was the heartiest and jolliest of all. She had n't
looked so cheerful since she landed.
Well, we laughed, and we laughed, and we
laughed, and Bridget got crosser and crosser, be-
cause we could n't get our breaths enough to tell
her the joke; and so, shouting and choking and
gurgling, we unloaded ourselves, thanked the
farmer, and said good-by. As far away as we
could see him down the street, we could make out
that he was still doubling over and whacking his
knee with his hand, and then holding his sides
as though he certainly would fly to pieces.
We went into the house and had supper-
Bridget had a beautiful supper ready. She al-
ways does, for all her talk — and we put the baby
to bed.
Then Pete and Sallie and I had a serious talk
on the dreadful dangers of being 'maginative,
and to fix it in our minds, I wrote all this down,
and read it to them to see if it was right. They
igi2.]
FOR 'MAGINATIVE PEOPLE ONLY!
683
say I have everything in but that about the fish
in the brook, and I can't go back and tell about
that now. The story is told.
P.S.— But now it is later, Pete and Sallie have
gone to bed, and their father and I have been
talking things over ; and I must say that it 's only
fair to put down something I thought of. It 's
this : it came over me with a rush that the only
people in this story who were n't 'maginative
were those tramps and Bridget ; and they certainly
missed all the lovely, lovely time the rest of us
had ! So perhaps it is better, if you have to
choose, to be 'maginative rather than not, but you
must not mind looking very, very foolish when
somebody who is n't tells you what 's what.
THE TEASE
BY MINNIE LEONA UPTON
June is in the meadows !
June is on the hills !
Everywhere, everywhere,
Her merry laughter thrills !
Gone are all the discords,
Everything 's in tune-
Wonders, wonders,
Wrought by winsome June !
From the darkest corners
Flowers are peeping out.
Who 'd have thought, who 'd have thought
This could come about ?
Boughs that would not listen
To a word from May
Overflow, overflow
With sweetest bloom to-day !
And oh, this burst of glory
In gardens, one and all !
Splendor, splendor,
By the roadside wall,
Brightening the ledges
Graved with Ocean's rune —
Roses, roses.
Come to welcome June !
All the little laddies
And lassies, fair and wee-
Tiptoe, tiptoe-
Bubble o'er with glee !
What are they expecting,
So merry and so wise,
Looking, looking,
With their shining eyes?
Ah, June holds VACATION
Within her rosy hands !
See her, see her,
Laughing where she stands,
Holding back the treasure
Awhile, the saucy tease !
Coax her, coax her —
"Please, please, please !"
THE SOCILTY CIRCUS
ve us
~~idh~~-
In a social way, I am proud to say
That the Be-Ba-Boes are extremely gay,
And they all peruse
The society news
With a view to emulation ;
So, when they saw on the printed page :
Society Circuses All the Rage !"
They said : "That 's new ;
We will have one, too,
And create a grand sensation !"
kuu,,
a^ulA**-*^*"^1
.-&«*
So they forthwith went and secured
a tent
That
was large enough for the great
And they made a ring
That was just the thing
To show a horse's action.
event ;
The
trapeze hung at a giddy height,
The
jumping-board was pronounced
And they had a stand
Where the Famous Band
Would be a chief attraction.
just right.
dJ
684
THE SOCIETY CIRCUS
685
For the beasts, they drew on the regular Zoo,
As all the amateur circuses do,
(And of course you know
There are some who go
For the animals that they see there).
And most extensive plans were made
For pop-corn, peanuts, and lemonade,
For, lacking those
At circus shows,
You might as well not be there.
To conduct the show, (with the whip, you know,
They chose the Talented Be-Ba-Bo,
And they searched the town
For a competent clown,
Though later they came to rue it.
For an acrobat they were quite at sea,
Till Peter Poly claimed that he
Performed with ease
On the Flying Trapeze ;
So they said : "Let 's see him do it."
686
BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES
[June,
f
Well, it turned out right, for the day was bright,
And the Big Parade was a beautiful sight.
They had a gnu
And a kangaroo
And the Spring-leg Cassowary ;
There were chariots, each with a charioteer,
While a steam piano in the rear
Played music which
Was off the pitch,
For that is customary.
The scene was gay in the tent that day
When the company came — in the Grande Entree !
The walrus snored
And the lions roared —
You 'd have thought they were surely fighting ;
While the Band, in uniforms green and pink,
Went boom-zing-a-cing-boom — pillie-willic- wink !
The horses pranced
And the elephant danced —
It certainly ivas exciting !
igi2.]
THE SOCIETY CIRCUS
r,87
But the rest of the show — it was rather below
The average mark, as circuses go ;
For the clown just cried
Whenever he tried
To be funny; they should n't have let him.
And as for the widely boasted ease
Of Peter's act on the high trapeze-
He hung in the air
In a state of despair,
And they had to go up and get him !
Ka»h a.rtrw
Mayt>»<4t«r
Dal a rid
19U
But they luckily planned for a concert grand
At the close of the show, by the Famous Band ;
And those who remained
Were entertained
By popular songs and dances.
As a charity thing, there was no expense,
And the net receipts they were quite immense;
And the money goes
To Be-Ba-Boes
In straitened circumstances.
POSITIVELY THE OLDEST INHABITANT
BY AUGUSTA HUIELL SEAMAN
It is something to be able to boast that one is the
oldest inhabitant of one's town or section. To
make good this claim usually involves the pos-
session of a plump one hundred years. The Tes-
tudo vicina, or Giant Tortoise, of the New York
Zoological Park, however, might smile scornfully
on so paltry a record. For his two centuries of
existence entitle him to the honor of being the
oldest living creature in the United States.
The Giant Tortoise is not native to North
America, but hails from the Galapagos Islands in
the Pacific, several hundred miles off the coast of
Ecuador. He seems, nevertheless, entirely happy
in his New York surroundings, and apparently
regrets in no wise the change of scene and cli-
mate. We are inclined to gasp when we learn
his age, but there is something besides that
astounding fact to recommend him to our inter-
est and curiosity. He and his companions of the
park, and a few scattered specimens in one or
two other zoological gardens, are almost the last
surviving members of a vanished race. Their ex-
tinction is due less to the usual combat with natu-
ral foes, as is the case with most wild creatures,
than to a senseless and wasteful slaughter that
has practically wiped out their species— during
the last fifteen years.
The enemies of this Giant Tortoise were three:
the wild dogs and the natives, who killed them
for food, and the oil-hunters, who sought them for
their fat, from which an oil was extracted. Of
the three, the last must bear the burden of re-
sponsibility for their greatest destruction.
For the last hundred years, ships have touched
at the Galapagos Islands and not infrequently, on
leaving, have marooned there some unwelcome
canine passenger. From these stray animals
sprung a race of wild dogs whose chief food was
the smaller tortoises, and often the eggs.
The natives also entertained a decided liking for
tortoise meat, and had some discretion been used
in the killing, it would probably have made but
little difference in the steadily increasing race.
But, alas ! too prodigal with a stock they consid-
ered all but inexhaustible, they went about ob-
taining tortoise meat with the most deplorable
recklessness. In numberless instances, one of the
great creatures would be killed, only that some
native might obtain a pound or two of the meat
and a small piece of fat with which to cook it.
All the remainder of the valuable flesh would be
left for the wild dogs and carrion-birds.
But it was with the discovery that tortoise fat
rendered an excellent oil, that the wholesale
slaughter commenced. In 1903, it was reported
that the shells of one hundred and fifty tortoises
had been found lying near one of their drinking-
pools, and half a mile away, at another pool, one
hundred more— the work of a single raid ! Is it
any wonder that, in 19 12, a few scattered speci-
mens in zoological parks are all that remain of
what was, fifteen years ago, an innumerable race?
In his native haunts, the Giant Tortoise sub-
sists mainly on grass, cactus leaves, and water.
Water he must have, and when, in the dry season,
even the pools disappear, he makes good the de-
ficiency with the succulent pulp of the cactus
plant. In the Zoological Park, however, he fares
much better, and vegetables of every variety are
his in their seasons. It is reported that he ex-
hibits a particular fondness for tomatoes. From
the illustration may be seen the expectant, almost
jubilant, expression of his countenance while con-
templating a yellow banana.
The Giant Tortoise is amiable and law-abiding
in disposition, while his life is simple and un-
eventful to a degree. He eats at all times and
seasons, lumbers about his quarters with exceed-
ing deliberation when in need of exercise, basks
in the sun when not otherwise occupied, and
spends hours without number drawn into his
shell, fast asleep, oblivious of all creation. It is
only during the warmer months that he is on ex-
hibition in the outside inclosure. In the winter,
he and his companions are gathered into an inner
room of the reptile-house, where they sleep away
the time, waking only to consume a little food
occasionally.
The following incident is the only one on rec-
ord, to show that the Giant Tortoise ever varied
the peaceful monotony of his existence at the
park by creating any excitement. It is reported
that one snowy winter day, when every tortoise
was supposed to be wrapped securely in the arms
of Morpheus, some one inadvertently left open
the door of the inclosure. No one knows just
how it happened, but our friend of the illustra-
tion must have waked, apparently realized his
opportunity, and in the absence of any too watch-
ful keeper, bethought himself of taking a stroll.
A quarter of an hour later, there -were noticed
strange tracks in the snow on the path leading
down to the bear-dens. For a time, it was sup-
posed that one of the young elephants had es-
POSITIVELY THE OLDEST INHABITANT
689
caped, and great was the consternation in conse-
quence. But the tracks, though somewhat like an
elephant's, were still obviously not an elephant's,
since none of that tribe were missing. Subse-
quent investigation discovered our friend the
Giant Tortoise serenely contemplating his fellow-
captives of the bear-dens ! The problem of re-
turning him to his own inclosure was met by fac-
along the Atlantic coast represented all that was
to be the future United States ; James Oglethorpe
had not yet founded the colony of Georgia ; and
twenty years must elapse before the birth of
George Washington.
While yet this reptile was, comparatively
speaking, a mere infant, the American and French
revolutions occurred, and the United States as-
THE GALAPAGOS TORTOISE AT THE ZOOLOGICAL PARK— DINNER-TIME.
ing him in the proper direction, and giving him a
smart rap on his shell. In the course of time, his
leisurely locomotion brought him back to his own
lawful domain. Perhaps in all the two centuries
of his existence, he had never experienced any-
thing quite so exciting before !
But it is the astonishing age of these reptiles
that suddenly causes us to look upon the span of
threescore years and ten as a paltry and insignifi-
cant thing indeed. Let us stand before the inclo-
sure and consider these facts : here is a living,
breathing creature, moving about and consuming
food even as ourselves. Yet when it first saw
the light (1712 or before), Queen Anne still oc-
cupied the throne of England, and Louis XIV
that of France. A line of thinly settled villages
Vol. XXXIX. -87-88.
sumed its place among the nations ; and no one
can tell to what age this creature may yet attain.
That it has grown since its introduction to the
park, the increased number of rings around the
segments of its shell attest. Possibly it is now
enjoying only middle life, and will be viewed
with interested speculation by our descendants of
the fifth and sixth generation, even as it is by us.
If simple vegetarian diet, a nervous-system
perfect almost to the point of non-existence, con-
genial surroundings in which there is small like-
lihood of accident, and an absolute lack of any-
thing to do or worry about, be conditions that
permit the possibility of indefinitely prolonging
life, then are those conditions triumphantly vindi-
cated by this very Methuselah of tortoises !
A PURITAN MAYING
by
MEloise Talbot
It was springtime in the village of Plymouth,
more than two hundred and fifty years ago.
There are sweet, bright days in New England
now, but the Plymouth of to-day is a very differ-
ent thing from the village of that time, for then
only one street sloped down to the water's edge,
and on the hill above stood a fort with shining
cannon.
Huldah and Timothy Speedwell stood talking
eagerly at their father's gate.
"Oh, Timothy, I am afraid she will not
come."
"Patience!" replied Timothy. "Cecile always
keeps her word. She is not like most girls."
"But, Timothy, the shadow of the meeting-
house is growing long,
and you know we must
be back by supper-time."
"Look !" cried Timothy,
pointing toward a fence far-
ther down the street.
At that moment, a little girl
sprang over it, and came run-
ning toward them.
"I thought the sewing would
never be done !" she cried. "And
at the very end, Aunt Dorcas
kept me to warn me of the In-
dians. She said if she were my father,
I should never leave the stockade."
"It is true about the Indians," said
Timothy. "I overheard the governor
saying to my father yesterday that they
were threatening the settlements again.
Come quickly, Huldah, lest my mother
hear."
"Nay, if the Indians be coming — " began Hul-
dah, hanging back.
"I do not care for Aunt Dorcas when my
father gives me leave," cried Cecile. "Huldah,
if you linger, we shall have no time left to go
a-Maying."
"What is that?" asked both children together.
"Why, don't you know?" exclaimed Cecile.
"Have you never brought home the May? To-
morrow will be May-day, and we must gather
boughs and fasten them against the door-posts,
to please the fairies."
"But," interrupted Huldah, "I am sure that
must be wrong, for tales of fairies are idle in-
ventions."
"My grandmother told me," retorted Cecile,
"and, pray, how should you be wiser than my
grandmother? Last year, in England, we
trimmed the May-pole on the green with flowers
and ribbons, and danced about it until sunset."
690
A PURITAN MAYING
691
"Oh, oh!" cried Huldah. "Now I know it
must be wicked, for it is very sinful to dance.
My mother told us so." .
"Is it?" said Cecile, regretfully. "I did not
know it. So many things are sinful, now that I
am come to New England. But surely there can
be no harm in gathering flowers to show that the
spring has come, even in this cold Plymouth."
Huldah and Timothy had found life much more
interesting since Cecile had come from England
to join her father in the Plymouth settlement.
They had seen her first on a Sabbath morning.
She had worn a white gown, and a wonderful hat
with nodding pink roses, from beneath which her
blue eyes looked with frank surprise at the bare
church and grave congregation. But the grown
people shook their heads. They whispered of
Master Goodwin's young French wife, who died
when Cecile was a baby, and they said the child's
name was scarce a godly one.
Aunt Dorcas did her best. She spun early and
late, till Cecile was clad in a suit of gray, as be-
fitted a child of the wilderness. She braided the
golden hair, and taught Cecile to sit silent in the
presence of her elders ; but every day the curls
grew tighter, and all the silence in the world
could not banish the laughter from her voice.
Master Goodwin was a grave man who had
crossed the sea for conscience' sake. He never
interfered with Aunt Dorcas's strict rule, but if
the elders of the church could have looked into
his great oak chest, they would have rubbed their
eyes to see a child's hat with pink roses laid
carefully away. Fortunately big chests keep
their secrets well, and neither Cecile nor Aunt
Dorcas knew.
Timothy and Huldah had never known any-
body before who seemed to think it was the chief
business of life to laugh and play. This after-
noon Cecile was too happy to walk. She skipped
along, singing a little French song, and when
they had passed the high palisade which guarded
the settlement, she seized Huldah's hand and
broke into a run, which only ended as they en-
tered the forest.
Hundreds of birds were flying among the trees,
and fresh, young leaves were unfolding, but the
winter had been hard, and though the children
wandered far, no flowers could they find. Tim-
othy, weary of the search, climbed a tree, while
Huldah, still doubtful of the lawfulness of the
enterprise, contented herself with gathering
twigs into her apron. All at once Cecile shouted
joyously. She had been pushing the fallen leaves
about, and suddenly she uncovered a lovely, trail-
ing vine, the like of which none of them had ever
seen before. Its leaves were small, and peeping
out beneath them were starry blossoms, pink and
white, and sweet as are no other flowers but
those of the Plymouth woods.
"Look !" cried Cecile, "these flowers must be
the May that grows in New England !"
Timothy scrambled down from the tree, and
Huldah forgot her scruples. They filled their
hands as full as they could hold, and Huldah fell
to plaiting a basket of rushes, which Cecile
heaped with blossoms.
"Will you hang this at your aunt's door?"
asked Huldah.
"No !" exclaimed Cecile. "She does not love
flowers. I shall hang it at the door of my best
friend in Plymouth. But, dear Huldah, what is
it? What frightens you?"
Huldah's face had grown suddenly white, and
she was staring into the distant hollow with ter-
rified eyes.
Cecile whirled around. The evening had crept
upon them unnoticed. At first she could see
nothing among the trees, but gradually she per-
ceived a figure outlined against them. It was a
tall, gaunt man. There were horrible marks upon
his face, and a feather above his head cast an
unearthly shadow.
"It is the Evil Spirit," whispered Huldah, with
trembling lips. "Oh, Cecile, it is because of these
wicked May-flowers!"
"Do not be afraid," said Timothy, throwing his
arm about her, but trembling, too. "I will take
care of you. Let us leave the flowers, and go
home."
But Cecile looked steadily at the motionless
figure.
"If it is the Evil Spirit," she said, "I will tell
him to go away."
She laid down her basket, and walked straight
into the shadow.
Huldah hid her face in horror, and even Tim-
othy did not dare to stir. They could feel the
thumping of their hearts, while a moment passed
that seemed an age ; then they heard Cecile's
clear voice.
"Thou foolish Timothy, be quick ! Fetch me
some water ! It is but an Indian, and his poor
arm is bleeding."
Huldah gasped again and clutched at Timothy,
for an Indian was hardly less dreadful to her
than a wicked spirit ; but Timothy pulled himself
away, ashamed, and ran to help Cecile.
The Indian had seated himself upon a big
boulder. His strong, brown arm was torn from
shoulder to elbow as if by the claws of a wild
beast, which was further indicated by some raw
pieces of bear's meat on the ground beside him.
Cecile was tearing her apron into strips. She
692
A PURITAN MAYING
Dune,
dipped them into the water which Timothy-
brought from a brook hard by, and bound them
firmly round the injured arm. Gradually the
bleeding stopped.
The Indian gave no sign of the agony he en-
dured, but he drew one long breath, and a pleased
look stole into his eyes. He rose to his feet
without a word, and bent his head till it touched
Cecile's little fingers. Then he plucked out a bit
■of the May-flower which she had fastened on her
dress, placed it within his belt, and vanished into
the forest as silently as he had come.
Timothy shook his head.
"It was but an Indian," he said, "but he was
painted like those who came out to fight a year
ago, and my mother said that it was the cruel
thoughts within that showed upon their faces."
The next morning Cecile was up before the
sun had crimsoned the waves of Plymouth Bay.
She crept down-stairs, May-basket in hand, and
opened the street-door softly. She went on past
the houses till she came to one over which an
English flag floated. It was the home of Miles
Standish, the captain of the colony. She twisted
her basket-handle into the door-knocker ; then she
hid herself behind a bush in the garden, and
waited.
Meantime, within, Miles Standish was pacing
to and fro, in grief and perplexity. Upon the
shores of Massachusetts Bay another company
of Englishmen had made a settlement some years
before, and named it "Merry-Mount." They
were different men from the God-fearing Puri-
tans. They gave fire-water to the Indians, which
maddened their brains, and sold them firearms,
so that a horrible danger threatened the infant
colonies if the tribes should break out into war-
fare.
Furthermore, these Englishmen loved wine and
hunting, and spent much time in amusements
which the settlers at Plymouth did not approve.
The day before, word had come that they had
raised a May-pole in their village, and had bidden
the neighboring Indians to join them in a dance
around it.
All night long, the Plymouth elders had sat in
solemn council. They decided that so great an
insult to Puritan laws must be punished, and
though they grieved to attack men of their own
blood, Captain Standish was ordered to march at
daybreak with twenty men, to wipe out the blot
from the fair fame of New England.
The light was just shining in the east, when
'the captain stepped out upon his threshold. His
!first thought was that the morning air smelled
sweet; then he saw the swaying blossoms.
'Cecile held her breath. She thought he might
guess who hung the basket there, for had he not
called her his little maid, and taken her upon his
knee to tell her stories of the time when he was
a boy in England, he, the fiery soldier, whom all
the other children feared ?
Then the captain spoke, and his voice was so
loud that it startled the people of the village, and
several of them hurried into the street to listen.
"Who hath done this thing?" he cried out.
"Who hath dared to bring in this mummery of
the May?"
The people looked at each other in wonder.
Timothy and Huldah, who had come running out
with flowers in their hands, drew closer together.
Captain Standish saw them, and fixed his flashing
look upon Timothy.
"Timothy Speedwell, was it thou? What dost
thou with flowers like these ? Nay, turn not like
a coward. Speak !"
"Captain Standish, listen. Do not be angry
with Timothy. It was I who hung the flowers."
Cecile pushed the bushes aside, and stood out
before the captain.
"I brought the May to thee, Captain Standish.
I meant to give thee pleasure: I am sorry."
Her voice shook, but Miles Standish was in the
throes of one of those terrible passions which
made him dreaded throughout New England. He
seized the basket, and hurled it far away from
him.
"There let it lie to be trodden on and die ! Is
it not enough that we go out by day to fight
against these heathen customs, but must we watch
all night lest they steal to our very doors? Away
to thy spinning-wheel, child ! One may teach wis-
dom to a lad at a rod's end, but there is small
hope for a foolish girl."
So saying, he turned abruptly into the house,
seized his sword and musket, and strode forth
through the astonished crowd to the end of the
palisade, where his twenty men, among them
Master Goodwin, were already assembling.
Cecile hid her face, and burst into tears. A
hand was laid heavily on her shoulder.
"Come," said the stern voice of Aunt Dorcas,
"wilt thou make thyself a gazing-stock for the
whole town ? This is what happens when maids
wander idle abroad."
Cecile suffered herself to be led home without
a word. Aunt Dorcas allotted to her bread and
water, and many long turns of the distaff, but she
made no complaint, and crept silently up to her
little chamber.
Meantime Miles Standish and his twenty men
marched through the forest. As the sun rose
high in the heavens, the captain ordered a short
rest and called Master Goodwin to his side.
IQI2.]
A PURITAN MAYING
693
"What think you, my friend? Shall we reach
the Bay of the Massachusetts before nightfall?"
Master Goodwin looked up at the sun, and sent
a keen glance into the faces of his companions.
"The trail is heavy," he said. "Would it not be
"CECILE BOUND THE STRIPS FIRMLY ROUND THE INJURED ARM
well to rest this night in the forest, that the men
may be fresh to attack in the morning?"
"And leave the sinners to finish their impious
rites?" broke out the captain. "I will fight till
my arm drop, before it shall be said that they of
New England dance around a May-pole !"
"God forbid!" replied Master Goodwin.
"Then forward, say I," said the fiery captain,
"and make good speed."
As they had halted for a moment in the for-
est track, each man had taken the opportunity to
shift the burden of food and ammunition which
he carried on his back. A tiny pink flower peeped
above Master Goodwin's sword-belt. Miles
Standish's eye fell upon it.
"Ha !" he exclaimed. "Since when, my friend,
do you wear a favor?"
Master Goodwin's face
softened; he had witnessed
the scene that morning in the
captain's garden.
"It is a bit of bloom which
my maid gave me ere I left
her. May heaven keep her !
She loves each bird and blos-
som that she sees."
Miles Standish made an in-
articulate sound, and strode
forward.
The day was far spent,
when a trail of smoke was
seen against the sky. Cap-
tain Standish called his men
together, and proceeded cau-
tiously, till they found them-
selves on the edge of a clear-
ing. A strange sight met
their eyes.
On one side of the open
space stood a dozen houses
of bark. A huge bonfire had
been kindled, which threw a
ruddy glare over the place.
In the center of the clearing
stood the trunk of a tall tree,
stripped of its branches. It
bore large bunches of flow-
ers upon its top, and from
these hung down bright-col-
ored streamers, which waved
in the breeze. Around its
base were groups of Indian
squaws, wearing flower-
crowns, and other groups of
English colonists, with gay
festoons pinned upon their
hunting-shirts.
Hand in hand the settlers circled around the
May-pole, singing a boisterous song, and mak-
ing fantastic leaps into the air. Outside the
circle sat a dark and silent group of lookers-on.
These were the Indian braves, who, too dignified
to join in the wild sports of the whites, yet
watched them with grave curiosity.
Miles Standish's eyes grew bloodshot.
"Upon them !" he whispered, "and spare neither
powder nor sword!"
Under cover of the trees half of his men moved
694
A PURITAN MAYING
[June,
to the other side of the clearing; then at a signal
both parties rushed forward to the attack.
Instantly the scene changed. Shouts -of anger
filled the air. The frightened squaws, dropping
the toys with which they had been happily play-
ing, fled, shrieking, to the Indians, who withdrew
them into the woods.
The careless settlers of Merry-Mount, who had
stacked their guns with never a man to watch,
found themselves surrounded by enemies, dis-
posed to grant no quarter. In a short time, the
entire company were overpowered, and secured
within their own wigwams, and the Puritans were
left masters of the field.
"Tear clown those baubles !" cried Captain
Standish, waving his sword toward the May-pole,
"and throw them upon the fire. To-morrow we
will kindle it anew, when we cut down this tree
of iniquity."
No sooner said than done. In five minutes the
May-pole stood bare, and the festoons of the
Indian women lay black in the dying embers of
the fire.
"Now we may take rest," said Captain Stand-
ish. "Two of us shall guard in turn. Friend
Goodwin, thou and I will take the first watch."
Deep quiet fell upon the tiny village, so full of
tumult an hour before. Master Goodwin, reclin-
ing upon his arms, felt drowsiness stealing upon
him. Suddenly he was brought to himself by a
grasp on his arm, and a sharp whispered,
"Friend, what is that?"
Miles Standish was standing beside him, peer-
ing into the encircling wood.
Master Goodwin sprang to his feet.
"I see nothing moving but the shadow of the
trees," he said.
The captain shook his head without speaking,
and moved off across the clearing. Master Good-
win followed. All was still at the forest edge.
They advanced a few rods into the thicket.
"All is well," said the captain, in a low tone.
"A weary brain creates strange fancies."
Just at that moment he felt his arms pinioned
behind him, his musket was torn from his grasp,
and he was thrown heavily to the ground.
As soon as he could look up, he saw that he was
surrounded by several dusky figures. Some yards
off was Master Goodwin, also bound and helpless.
The place still lay in perfect silence; the sol-
diers, sleeping heavily, had heard no sound.
The captain addressed the tallest of the group
in the Indian tongue.
"Do the braves war against serpents, that they
beat their enemies upon the ground? Let me
arise, and look upon a man."
His request was granted in silence. Two of
the younger braves raised him to his feet, while
a third did the same office for Master Goodwin.
Then they drew back, loosening the tomahawks
in their belts.
"What dost thou advise?" said Standish to
Goodwin in English. "If we halloo to our men,
we shall have the whole pack of Indian braves
upon us at once, for I doubt not there are at least
a hundred lurking in the woods."
"It may well be," replied Master Goodwin.
"Then we must use persuasion," said Standish,
"though it ill fits the tongue of a soldier"; and
turning to the Indians, he continued in their
language :
"Why does my brother wear the war-paint
when the white man smokes the peace-pipe?
Have hostile tribes dealt unjustly with the Mas-
sachusetts ? Why does not the sachem come to
his great white brother at Plymouth, that he may
receive help?"
A look of contempt stole into the stolid face of
the Indian.
"Did the white chief wear the peace-plume
when he came among my brethren of the Mount,
six hours agone?" he asked. "Did he offer the
peace-pipe to my squaw, that she fled to her hus-
band? The raven flew in the trail of my brother,
and his shadow darkened the sun."
"It was the avenging wrath of the Great
Spirit," replied Standish.
"Does the Great Spirit command that the white
man shall war against his brother?" asked the
Indian. "The Narragansetts may war against
the Iroquois, and their young men may hang the
scalp of the Delaware upon their breasts, but the
hand of the Massachusetts is ever within the hand
of the Massachusetts. The white chief of Merry-
Mount is our friend, and he has been bound with
thongs; therefore we bind the chiefs of Plymouth,
and carry them to our wigwams, that our squaws
may laugh. To-morrow we will meet their braves
upon the war-path."
"Nay, then it is useless, Friend Goodwin," said
Standish, "and we must raise the halloo, though
methinks our scalps will be severed before' we
have finished shouting."
"Wait yet a moment !" exclaimed Goodwin.
"Perhaps kindness may yet move these poor sav-
ages to mercy."
So saying, he came a step forward out of the
tree's shadow into the starlight. Suddenly the
manner of their captor changed. His face lighted
with an expression of surprise ; he uttered an
exclamation, and, springing forward, he snatched
something from Master Goodwin's belt. It was
the May-flower which Cecile had given him in
the morning. The Indian passed his hand within
I9I2-]
A PURITAN MAYING
695
his girdle, and pulling out another flower, its
counterpart, though faded and dry, he raised them
both to his forehead. Then he glided to a rock a
little distance off, and motioned to his warriors,
who, leaving two to stand guard, followed him.
■ EDWIN -John -Frit Tie-
1 • 9 ■ I' - i-
" 'I BROUGHT THE MAY TO THEE, CAPTAIN STANDISH. I AM SORRY.' " (SEE PAGE 692.)
He lifted one arm above his head, and broke
into a passionate harangue. His prisoners waited
in breathless suspense. He was interrupted now
and then by grunts from his hearers, which
Standish's practised ear interpreted as signs of
disapproval, but still the eloquent voice went on,
till little by little the discontented murmurs died
away. At length, as the chief ended, the braves
spoke out in chorus, uttering one word of assent.
Then the leader descended, and approached
Master Goodwin. He took his hand and laid it
upon his own right arm, which the colonist for
the first time perceived was wrapped in a ban-
dage, much spotted with blood.
The Indian tapped it
significantly, and pointed
southward in the direction
of Plymouth.
"Eyes of the sea, and
hair of the setting sun,"
he said in broken English.
With a quick movement,
he cut the withe that bound
Goodwin, and in an instant
he and his warriors had
disappeared into the forest.
The captain was the first
to speak.
"Art thou hurt, friend?"
he asked.
"Not by a hair," replied
Goodwin.
"The savage showed thee
a token," said Standish, in
an oddly softened voice.
"Aye,"
"It was
which I
stand."
The captain was silent
for a moment, then he said
gravely :
"My friend, I see that
gentleness is more mighty
than anger. Lie down and
rest. I will end the watch,
for I have no mind to sleep."
The next morning the
captain was singularly
thoughtful. He said little
during the preparation for
the homeward march until
his men led out their pris-
oners to place them in the
column, when he peremp-
torily ordered them to be
released.
"Let us leave the men here," he said, "in pos-
session of their homes. We will carry the ring-
leader, John Morton, to Plymouth, but who can
tell whether his followers may not repent of their
evil ways? It becomes us to show mercy."
"They will return more like to their dance
around the May-pole," grumbled one of the sol-
diers, a good deal chagrined at the unusually
pacific mood of the leader of the expedition.
replied Goodwin.
a strange thing,
do not under-
696
A PURITAN MAYING
"Nay," replied the captain. "Let the May-pole
stand, till some fitter hand come to cut it down ;
that of Miles Standish has not earned the right."
It was nearing the close of the second day,
when the little band came once more in sight of
Plymouth. The people had been anxiously await-
ing its return, and great was the rejoicing that
the difficult mission had been accomplished with-
out bloodshed.
It did not take Master Goodwin long to un-
ravel the mystery of the Indian. He took Cecile
in his arms and kissed her, so that she straight-
way forgot all her troubles.
"Oh, dear father!" she whispered, "I do not
mind the spinning, nor the hunger, nor even
Aunt Dorcas since you are not angry with me."
Her father kissed her again, but contented
himself with saying, "Thou must be obedient.
Thy aunt is a good woman."
But a more wonderful thing was to follow.
The next evening, Cecile was called down from
her chamber. Below stood the great Captain
Standish, holding a bunch of flowers in each
hand. One was withered, for it had lain in the
dust of his dooryard ; the other, which was sweet
and fresh, he had searched the Plymouth woods
to find.
"My little maid," he said, in the voice which
could be the sternest and the gentlest in New
England, "I am come to say to thee what Miles
Standish says to few men : I have done wrong.
I reproved thee harshly, and I scorned thy inno-
cent flowers. I will keep thy May-gift that it may
teach an old man a lesson ; and I bring these
blossoms to thee, that thou mayest show thou
canst forgive."
Thus it came to pass that the May and the
springtime gladness entered into the house of
Miles Standish at Plymouth, and every year since,
under their coverlet of fallen leaves and almost
before the winter's snow has gone, have the May-
flowers bloomed in the Plymouth woods.
THE SIESTA
BY CARL WERNER
Sandman, Sandman, why do you come so soon?
You should n't come till six o'clock, and here you are at noon !
I 've swept the floor and dressed my doll, and made a pie or two,
But this is Monday, and I have my washing yet to do.
I wish you 'd wait until I get my clothes out on the line,
Before you throw your slumber-dust in Dolly's eyes and mine.
Sandman, Sandman, please to go away;
I '11 welcome you at six to-night, but not at noon to-day !
'THE TWINS." DRAWN BY GERTRUDE KAY.
697
SOME OF THE BOYS BIRD-HOUSES.
HOUSE-BUILDERS TO THE BIRDS
BY HARRIET GILLESPIE
Building houses for the little feathered crea-
tures of the air is a fad with the boys of one of
the public schools in the
Borough of the Bronx,
New York City, or, at
least, it was, perhaps, a
fad when they first be-
gan to develop this
branch of architecture ;
but to-day their interest
in birds is so real that
several hundred bird-
houses have been con-
structed and set up, and
more are constantly be-
ing built.
It is interesting to see
how many and varied
are the styles of these
show genuine talent on
the part of the young carpenters. In addition to
this, the adaptation of the houses to the needs of
the various species of birds that haunt the Bronx,
shows that the boys, while acquiring skill with
tools, have also studied the habits of the birds.
A HOUSE MADE OF A SOAP-
BOX AND A SAUCEPAN LID.
houses, some of which
All that the boys needed was a bit of encour-
agement, and this their school principal, an en-
thusiastic ornithologist, supplied. The natural
result was the making of all these charming, up-
to-date bird-houses. And one of the best things
about it is that the boys themselves built every
bit of the houses, doing the work at home, with
A BUNGALOW, AND A HOUSE WITH GLASS WINDOWS.
no supervision, simply carrying out in their own
way suggestions made by their principal. Practi-
HOUSE-BUILDERS TO THE BIRDS
699
cally no outlay was required, for their tools were
of the most common sort, that all boys know how
to use and generally possess, and their materials
were obtained from old boxes of various sorts.
It all goes to show that boys can do about what
they set out to do, and, just because they live in
big cities, there is no reason why they should
abandon birds to their fate — and a very tragic
fate it is too, sometimes — when, with a little in-
genuity, they can protect them against the attacks
of their enemies.
"For," as their teacher said, "there is no need
of city boys and girls lamenting the fact that, as
they so rarely see the various birds, they can do
nothing for their welfare. On the contrary, they
have opportunities that their country cousins may
not possess. The park authorities are always
willing to help any one to protect and foster bird
life, and one of the best ways to help birds is to
give them a safe place in which to rear their
young.
"And, in this way, the number of birds is in-
creased, hence the work that they do for us in
destroying insect pests is much greater. There
is no boy or girl who reads this article who can-
not, with small effort, help some birds to live
more comfortably and safely.
"The illustrations show what one school alone
has done in half a year, and not a large school at
that. In constructing the houses, the boys adapted
them so as to provide openings for the entrance
of the bird and larger apertures for the cleaning
of the houses, though the latter were kept closed
or covered with glue and sawdust. Bark, taken
from a dead stump, and brought back from some
SOME OF THE MORE SIMPLY CONSTRUCTED HOUSES
by a latch, or by making the door slide in a
groove, or by some similar device.
"Most of the houses were painted a dull color
HIE MINIATURE EDGAR A. POE COTTAGE.
excursion into the country, served more than one
for the covering of their bird-houses. Some boys
who had access to more
tools, or were more skil-
ful, made houses after
plans of bungalows and
similar buildings that they
found in various illus-
trated publications.
"Then, of course, all the
boys studied the books on
birds to get an idea of the
size of the bird, in order
to know of what size to
make the entrances to the
houses ; for it must be re-
membered that not all
members of the bird fam-
ily live in harmony, and
the sparrow has often
been known to rout out
from a comfortable abode
a more useful but less
pugnacious bird. Thus the hole for a wren must
not be larger than a twenty-five-cent piece, or a
sparrow may take possession and poor Jenny-
700
HOUSE-BUILDERS TO THE BIRDS
wren will be forced to look for another apart-
ment, just at the time, perhaps, when her family
is about to break out from the shell.
"By coupling the study of history and litera-
ture with the study of birds, some of the boys
made houses that had a double interest. For ex-
ample, one lad who lived near the cottage that
Edgar Allan Poe occupied when he lived in Ford-
ham, New York City, made a bird-house that
reproduced the Poe cottage with considerable
fidelity. The old-fashioned shutters, the plain
doorway, the simple porch, the shingled roof, the
red chimney, and the little cramped windows
squeezed in under the eaves, all gave it a very
realistic look. He believed in making the most
of local opportunities, and he took the house in his
neighborhood that had the greatest traditional
interest, and. adapted it to his purpose.
"The school had no shop and no instructor in
carpentry, or even in the working of wood. It
did have a few tools and a vise, and a window-
sill at which work could be done. The work you
see in the pictures was not done there, however,
but at home. Interest, the greatest factor in
education, made the boys find ways and means.
It made them careful of material ; it made them
take what others had cast aside as of no value,
and adapt it to their own ends ; it made them
eager to learn the proper use of tools ; it helped
them to form the habit of patient effort."
THE BOY AND THE BIRD
BY CHARLES F. HARDY
A little boy, with some little tools
In a little tool-chest new,
Was looking around for a little work
For his little hands to do,
When a little bird, with a glossy breast,
Flew down to a cherry limb
That was very close to the little boy,
And twittered a song to him.
The little song pleased the little boy,
Who said to the little bird :
'Your song is sweeter, it seems to me,
Than any I ever heard.
But I can tell, by your tone of voice,
That you 're wanting something now,
And I '11 gladly help you, as best I can,
If you '11 only tell me how."
The little bird, with a little hop,
Came a little closer then,
And a joyful note from his ruffled throat
Came bubbling in song again.
And the little song told the little boy
That a pretty thing to give,
Is a little house to a little bird
Who 's hunting a place to live.
The little boy, with some little tools
In a little tool-chest new,
Was happy, indeed, for a little work
That his little hands could do.
And the little bird with the glossy breast
Soon found near the cherry limb,
A little house that the little boy
Had built with his tools for him.
The little bird saw the little house,
And his heart was filled with glee;
And I need n't say he hurried away
For his little mate to see.
And they built their nest in the little house,
Where they live in peace and joy,
And the tree-tops ring with the songs thev sing,
In thanks to the little boy.
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</-?
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE
Chapter XIII
I OFFER SIXPENCE TO AN ADMIRAL
My heart stood still for a moment as I watched
Lord Howe take up my little book of Maxims.
He looked first at the cover, and then, to my
great relief, began turning over the leaves, read-
ing here and there with a smile on his lips.
" 'T is a human document, gentlemen," he said
to the table at large; "well worth the perusal,
but it will have to wait till this matter is settled.
Now, Mistress Beatrice, you are before us on a
grave charge, and what to do with you is by no
means plain. Were you a loyal English maid, it
would be our duty to see you safe to your friends,
no matter who they were. On the other hand,
rebels must be treated as— as rebels, though cir-
cumstances may be taken into consideration. Per-
chance, after all, you are loyal at heart. All this
talk we read in this little book is just the silly
chatter of others with whom you have come in
contact, and which, in your case, could be easily
forgiven if you forget it. So, you see, there is
an alternative for you to choose. If you tell us
that you are really a loyal subject to King George,
we can arrange to send you to Mr. Travers. If,
however, you say that you are a rebel— well,
that 's another pair of shoes ! Now declare," he
ended, leaning toward me and speaking impres-
sively, "are you a loyal English maid as I hope,
or are you, as Sir John says, a rebel spy?"
It seemed that freedom was before me and an
end to all my troubles in sight, if I could only
say that I was a loyal subject of the king; but I
could not say it. To have done so would have
been to deny what was in my heart ; for, although
I was but a child and knew little, mayhap, of the
real matters that had led to the war with the
colonies, yet Captain Timmons had won my sym-
pathy for his cause. To deny that would have
been to lie, and that I could not do.
For an instant I was tempted, but I scarce
waited to reason it all out, and answered truth-
fully.
"Your Lordship," I began quietly, for I had no
wish to be defiant, "I am no spy; but if to be
sorry for the colonies and to think that the king's
ministers have not treated them fairly makes a
rebel, then am I one."
There were murmurs about the table. I had
hidden my face in my hands, thinking that all
was over and that I would be sent back to Eng-
land, and caring little what else might happen.
I heard Sir John speaking sharply.
"There is nothing more to say, Your Lordship.
Shall I order her sent back?"
Although I had no hope, I listened eagerly for
Lord Howe's answer, because Mr. Vernon had
said his was the final word.
"Nay, Sir John," he answered, and at the word
my heart leaped. "We do not war with children.
Remember that, if I carry a sword in one hand,
I also carry the olive-branch in the other. My
motive in asking the child to declare herself was
to find out whether or not she was truthful. I
think all at this table will agree that she is, and,
therefore, we may believe she is not a spy, and
can send her to Mr. Travers."
There was a loud murmur of approval around
the table, and it was all I could do not to look my
triumph at Sir John, who, I noted out of the
corner of my eye, was very glum, and nervously
fingered a pen lying on the table.
"Miss Beatrice," Lord Howe continued, "we
will send a safe-conduct to Mr. Travers, so that
he may come and fetch you. In the meantime,
you will stop aboard the Good Will. That, I see,
makes you glad. Well, though you are a rebel,
you are an honest one, which is a good deal in
these days." And with that he bowed to me in
dismissal.
I wanted to run, but having obtained my free-
dom was less than the half of my desire if I must
leave behind what was more valuable than the
liberty of any small maid.
"Please, Your Lordship," I said, stepping for-
ward, "may I not have my little book? 'T was
Granny gave it to me, and it can be of interest
to no one else in the whole world."
"Why do you not give it to me for a keepsake ?"
he asked, picking it up from where it lay before
him.
"I should certainly keep it," growled Sir John.
"There may be a cipher message in it, plain
enough to those to whom she is going."
"Nay, I know no ciphers," I said hastily.
"Please, Your Lordship, let me have it." And
then the lucky sixpence, hanging about my neck
on a ribbon, came into my mind, and, being but a
child, I took it off and held it toward the admiral.
"Here is a better keepsake, My Lord. It is my
lucky sixpence, and you may have it in exchange
for the little book," I said eagerly. " 'T is a very
lucky sixpence, the Egyptian said, and I should
'THE SAILOR TOOK THE COIN AND SNAPPED IT IN HALVES." (see page 704.,
703
704
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[June,
love you to have it because you have been kind
to me."
Evidently the idea took his fancy, perhaps be-
cause sailors are superstitious ; at any rate, he ac-
cepted it with a smile.
"And what will you do for a talisman ?" he
asked.
''Oh, I am but a little girl," I answered; "I do
piece with the ribbon still strung through the hole.
"Now we shall each have a part. I shall have
mine pierced, and, like a lover and his lass, we '11
always wear them. If you need me. send me your
half, and I will come to help you."
"And I shall do the like for you. Your Lord-
ship, if you send yours," I said very gravely.
"And now may I have my book and go away ?"
" ' LOOK UP
not fight and shall not need it. Perhaps it will
keep you from harm in the war, and, indeed, I
hope so."
"Nay, I know what we '11 do," he replied. "We
have a sailor aboard who is so strong that he
breaks coins with his fingers; so we will e'en
divide it." With that he gave an order, and in a
few moments a great, tarry sailor came in, knuck-
ling his forehead and seeming very much out of
place in that splendid cabin. The admiral gave
him the coin, telling him to be careful to divide
it equally, whereupon he took it, and, bending it
this way and that, snapped it in halves.
"That will be even better," I said, struck by a
sudden memory, "for the Egyptian's prophecy
said 'the half would be luckier than the whole.' "
"Good !" said Admiral Howe, handing me the
He picked it up as if to give it to me, when Sir
John spoke up once more.
"I beg Your Lordship not to give it up. I am
convinced that the maid has not told all she
knows. She is too clever by half. The book has
more significance than appears on the surface, I
am sure."
Well had Mr. Vernon said that Sir John was
no fool. Had his enmity toward me personally not
showed so plainly, I feel certain that his opinion
would have prevailed, and I would have gone
back to England willy-nilly. The admiral sat for
a few minutes handling the book and looking at
the cover, then he raised his eyes and gazed at
me, while I stood trembling with anxiety, twirling
my half of the sixpence between my fingers.
With a smile meant only for me, he glanced
I9I2.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
705
clown at his half of the coin lying in his palm,
and, without another word, handed me the book.
I knew, as well as if he had told me, that the
lucky piece was as a bond between us, and, be-
cause of that, he had yielded to its dumb pleading.
I seized my little book, and, with low, mur-
mured thanks and a courtesy, I hurried away with
my heart beating joyously, for I saw an end to
my troubles at last and an honorable discharge
of the responsibility put upon me by Captain Tim-
mons of the Bouncing Betsey.
Chapter XIV
I AM DENIED
How gloriously the sun shone, and how beautiful
and sparkling were the waters of New York Bay
that day ! It was all I could do to sit still in the
little boat while I was being rowed back to the
Good Will. I wanted to sing and laugh,— to do
anything, in fact, to give expression to my joy
at being free once more ; for I had been a prisoner.
But, best of all, I had the little book of Maxims
pressed close beneath my arm. The precious
paper was safe, and, though I had not the least
idea what it was all about, I knew it was vastly
important, and I was anxious to put it into Mr.
Travers's hands. It had been a fortunate day
for me, and all the heartaches and anxieties of
the last few weeks were forgotten.
As I gained the deck of the Good Will, Mr.
Vernon was waiting, and he could see by my face
that matters had turned out to my liking, for he
smiled gaily as he stepped over to me.
' 'T is easy to see that you have won the ad-
miral!" he cried. "Is everything satisfactory?"
"Oh, yes, everything !" I exclaimed. "Lord
Howe is going to send for Mr. Travers to come
and fetch me, and he gave me my book back
again, and — and—" but there were no words to
tell how happy I felt, and I could only dance up
and down from sheer delight.
"I am glad for your sake," said Mr. Vernon,
"but I, for one, shall feel sorry indeed to see
you go, and there are others that I could name
at our end of the table who will miss you."
"And I shall be sorry to leave you, for you
have been very good to me," I answered.
"Well, you are like to be with us a day or so
yet," Mr. Vernon returned, "so you need not be
in any hurry to pack."
"Will it be so long?" I cried in dismay; "I
thought I could go at once."
"We must first get a message through to Mr.
Travers; and, even if he starts at once, there is
no telling where he is nor what he is about. I
should fancy that he 's a very busy man with his
Vol. XXXIX.— 8q.
rebellion unless he 's vastly changed since last I
saw him."
This was far from good news, for, now that I
could go, I was impatient to be off. But even the
delay could not dampen my spirits much that day,
and the hours passed pleasantly enough, for there
was always something of interest going on in
the bay.
First of all there was constant visiting of offi-
cers from ship to ship, and drums were beaten to
quarters to receive this or that guest with fitting
pomp, so that there was a never-ceasing bustle
of excitement.
Then there was an unending stream of people
coming out to the boat with things to sell. There
were vegetables such as I had never seen, one in
particular which was quite long and had a jacket
outside, and inside, little beans stuck, in some
way, on a stick. Later I found that it was In-
dian corn, and really most toothsome.
Two days passed without a sign of my cousin.
On the next morning, about noon, I was stand-
ing near the ladder leading to the landing-stage,
watching Sir John and his staff come aboard on
their return from the admiral's ship. I had often
stood so in the past, and Sir John had stalked by
me without a word or a look. This time, how-
ever, he stopped before me and stared down with
such a smile of satisfaction that I was frightened
at once.
"So, Mistress Travers, cousin to Lord Har-
borough," he began slowly, drawling out the
words mockingly, "I have the last laugh after all,
and there is a saying that 'he who laughs last,
laughs best.' "
"What mean you ?" I cned, a great fear clutch-
ing my heart.
"That your so-called cousin, Mr. Travers,
though a rebel, is evidently an honest man, and
will have none of you !" he answered, altering his
tone and looking at me fiercely. "You are a
prisoner again, and back to England you go on
the first troop-ship that sails \" Then, turning,
he addressed the officer in command : "Keep an
eye to her; she is a prisoner of war !"
I know not what I did for a moment or two.
The shock seemed to rob me of all thought or
action. It was too severe a blow for tears, and
it had come so suddenly that I could only stand
staring straight before me. Then I bethought me
that this could not be, and that Sir John was try-
ing to trick me, and I sought Mr. Vernon's face,
hoping to find there something to encourage me ;
but, alas, as he stood waiting for Sir John to
leave the deck, he was careful not to look in my
direction, and I was sure, knowing his good-will
for me, that this latest and worst news was true.
706
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[June,
Almost blindly I made my way to the forward
end of the ship, and there alone, behind one of
the great cannon, I crouched down and cried and
cried, as if my heart would break. And, indeed,
it was near to breaking.
I know not how long I had been there when
Mr. Vernon came and seated himself beside me.
"I 've been looking everywhere for you," he
said, and his voice showed how sorry he felt.
I stifled my sobs as well as I could.
"Is it true?" I asked.
"Yes, it 's quite true," he replied ; "he wrote
saying he knew nothing of any maid."
"And neither did he !" said I. "He expected a
boy!"
"Oh, yes," agreed Mr. Vernon.
"But he will come if it is explained to him.
I 'm sure he will !" I cried, my hopes rising a
little.
"Yes, I think that not unlikely," said Mr. Ver-
non. "But," he went on, shaking his head, "he
has cut himself off from coming. He will never
have another safe-conduct, and without one he
would n't dare to come."
"I don't understand," I said.
"Here 's how it is," Mr. Vernon explained.
"Travers has evidently forgotten all about his
relatives in England and the message he sent by
the Bouncing Betsey months ago. That would
be natural enough. The word sent to him by
Lord Howe said nothing about the Bouncing
Betsey, but merely related the fact that there
was a relation of his, a little maid, waiting aboard
the Good Will, and that a safe-conduct would be
given to him to come and get her. Travers then,
knowing nothing of a maid, thinks he scents a
plot of some sort, and, though his answer was
quite polite, there was clearly the suggestion that
he did n't think the admiral was acting openly,
and that there was a trick somewhere. Lord
Howe was furious, and I don't blame him. So, of
course, Sir John saw his chance and took it. That
is the whole story, and what to do I don't know.
I think you are the most unlucky small girl I
ever met !"
Unconsciously I fingered the ribbon about my
neck on which hung the half of a small coin.
"And yet," I made answer, "the Egyptian said
it was a lucky sixpence."
Chapter XV
A PERSISTENT PEDDLER
I can scarce describe my wretchedness and
misery as I sat on that gun-carriage weeping my
eyes out. Perhaps another girl might have been
braver ; I know not. The blow had fallen so sud-
denly that I had no chance to summon fortitude.
One moment I had been looking forward eagerly
to an end of all my troubles, and the next they
were upon me again. Worst of all, Mr. Travers
had denied me. I could only cry— and cry — and
cry !
Mr. Vernon tried vainly to ease my sorrow.
"I cannot stand it !" he said at length, almost
roughly. "We must do something. Try to cease
your weeping and think if there is not a way
out of it \"
He rose to his feet and began pacing the deck,
muttering to himself now and then, and as often
shaking his head, showing all too plainly that no
solution came to him.
At length I managed to stay my tears, though,
indeed, I still shook with dry sobs, and Mr. Ver-
non seated himself beside me once more.
"I can see no help for it," he confessed sadly.
"If Travers had not been so impudent, the ad-
miral might have been prevailed upon to let you
try again, but now it is useless to look for aid in
that direction."
"Yes, I suppose so," I answered hopelessly;
"there is nothing to be done, only— only— "
"Only what?" he asked.
"Nothing— except that I should have liked Mr.
Travers to know the truth of it," I answered.
"Think you they would send a letter to him if
I wrote?"
"Nay, that they would not !" he answered.
"But," he went on, low.ering his voice, "write
your letter, and I will see that it reaches him,
only you must let me read it. You can under-
stand my reason."
I went at once to my cabin to write the letter.
I wrote out fully the reasons for my coming and
all that had befallen since that distant day when
I boarded the Bouncing Betsey in London, and
told, as well as I was able, just how everything
had happened and something, too, of my own
sorrow and disappointment. I wished to tell him
of the paper that had been intrusted to me, but
dared not, knowing that Mr. Vernon must read it.
This left me in a quandary, for I wanted to let
Mr. Travers know of my effort to bring it safe
into his hands.
I bit the end of my pen in perplexity, trying to
solve this riddle, and then there popped into my
head what Capt'ain Timmons had told me to do
in case I needed to see Mr. Travers privately on
a matter of importance.
"Just whisper to him that tea has gone up
thrippence a pound," the captain had said. Writ-
ing it might do as well, though what I hoped to
gain I know not to this day. Still, once having
seized upon the idea, I straightway wished to put
I9I2-]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
707
it into practice, but here another matter came to
plague me. To put the sentence in alone, with-
out connection with anything else in the letter,
would excite suspicion, so I tried to think of some
manner in which I could include it naturally. At
last, after much puzzling, I wrote the following:
I regret that I have no gossip of London for you, but I
was there so short a time that I scarce had a chance to see
aught but a few shops. Granny says 't is a most extrava-
gant place, and that tea has gone up thrippence a pound. I
know not whether you will be interested in this, but Cap-
tain Timmons told me a story of the Boston Tea Party.
Perhaps that is the reason it is so high.
I read this over many times, wondering if the
true purport of it would be plain to Mr. Vernon,
and then, deciding that he would see only what
was written, I copied it into the letter and so
finished.
Mr. Vernon was on deck, and together we went
back to the gun-carriage. It took him some time
to read, the letter being long, but at last he
finished it, and folded it for me to place the
wafers.
" 'T is a sad letter," said he, "and your infor-
mation about the tea touches upon a tender point.
For tea is a sore subject in America these days.
But I will see that it starts on its way at once,"
and, with a smile, he went off.
There was nothing now for me to do but wait
until a troop-ship bound for England should be
ready. The hours passed uneventfully, for I had
lost interest in everything, and a sort of numbness
had come upon my spirits which, though it eased
the pain of my disappointment, left me quite
indifferent.
One morning some four days after I had writ-
ten my letter, I became aware of a man standing
before me, holding out some plums as if for sale.
He was a young man, as I could see at once,
though the rough sort of cap he wore was pulled
down over his forehead, and the collar of his
rather torn and soiled coat was turned up. I
looked at him for a moment, and was about to
tell him that I did not wish to buy, when he lifted
his head suddenly and looked me full in the face,
his eyes meeting mine squarely. There was some-
thing in the bright glance that held my attention,
and then— he deliberately winked!
"Tea has gone up thrippence a pound," he
whispered— and my heart stood still.
"Come, buy my plums," he went on in a loud
voice. "They are the best in the Jerseys, and
I '11 make them cheap for an English maid. (Do
not look so frighted," he added under his breath.
"T is all right, and I am your cousin John.)
Come, mistress, buy my plums !"
For a few moments, he went on in this strain,
praising the fruit and urging me between whiles
to compose myself, and, indeed, I had need to, for
my heart was beating furiously and I was pant-
ing from excitement.
We stood alone on the deck, but there were
sailors passing constantly, and at such times Mr.
Travers, for it was, indeed, he, would raise his
voice for me to buy, like any hawker.
"Nay, now, do not look so pale !" he said in an
undertone.
"But if you are caught, they will hang you for
a spy !" I whispered back.
"Indeed, that 's true !" he answered, with a
reckless little laugh. "But these British are so
cock-sure of themselves, they 'd never suspect
that any one would dare brave their mightiness.
'T is their conceit will be their undoing. But
enough of that ! I was much distressed when
your long letter reached me and I found what I
had done. How did you manage to get it to me?
I had not thought they would be so obliging, after
my refusal to come for you."
"Mr. Vernon sent it," I answered.
"Not Guy Vernon?" he asked, with a note of
anxiety in his voice.
"The same," I replied; "he is aboard this ship."
"And he would know me in any sort of dress,"
Mr. Travers went on, more to himself than to me.
"Oh, well, it makes the adventure the more di-
verting, that 's all. Now what of the message
from Captain Timmons ? for he would never have
given you that word about the tea, if there had
not been something behind it."
"I have the paper," I told him. " 'T is most
important, though I know not what it is about ;
but the English know of it, and it is on that
account mainly that they wish to keep me
prisoner."
It was some minutes before we could go on,
for two officers stopped near us and talked for a
while, during which time Mr. Travers kept up
the patter about the fruit. But not content with
showing his wares to me, he must needs go up to
the officers as well, while I looked on in a panic.
"They 're good loyal plums," I heard him say ;
"grown in the Jerseys, and never a Whig near
them. Come, Your Excellencies, buy, and may-
hap you '11 convert a rebel."
The officers, laughing at his audacity, told him
to be off, and themselves walked away.
"Where is the paper?" he asked, coming back
to me, and I told him.
"I guess what is in it !" he exclaimed. "Would
it were in the general's hands."
"Let me get it for you now !" I urged. "I can
pretend to go for my purse."
"But I cannot take you now," he said.
708
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[June,
"Oh, but never mind me !" I replied. "The
paper is ever so much more important."
"Nay," he answered, with a resolute shake of
his head, "you have brought it so far, you shall
take it all the way. Besides, I came not for that
alone. Indeed, no ! I came to fetch my new
cousin."
"But how?" I asked, for I could see no way of
his doing that.
"Listen !" he said, glancing about him. "Think
you you can come on deck to-night without being
seen?"
"Yes, I can manage that," I answered, for the
position of the little cubbyhole in which I slept
made it easily possible.
"Good !" he exclaimed. "Come then as the
ship's bells strike six to-night. That will be
eleven o'clock, as you, no doubt, know. I will be
waiting at the landing-stage for you. Be ready,
and come on the stroke of the bell."
"But there is always a guard on the landing-
stage," I returned.
"Yes, one," he answered with a smile. "Do
not fear that he will stay you. Put on a dark
dress, and come with the book. Your other things
must be left behind. Will you be there?"
"Yes," I answered, and was about to speak
further, when a step sounded near us and my
cousin raised his voice again in praise of his
fruit. This same thing had happened so often
before that I thought nothing of it, till a voice
spoke to me, and I looked up to see Mr. Vernon
standing beside us.
"They are fine-looking plums," he said pleas-
antly.
"Yes," I answered, "I was thinking of buying
some, but my purse is below. I will go and
fetch it."
"Why trouble?" returned Mr. Vernon, taking
a coin out of his pocket. "Let me have the
pleasure of presenting you with the fruit. How
much are they, fellow?"
"Nay," I hurried to reply, for I feared the mo-
ment when he would discover the identity of the
man before us. "Nay, he has pestered me so that
I have lost my desire for them. Let him go."
"Pestered you, has he? Then we '11 teach him
better manners !" Mr. Vernon replied, and reach-
ing out a hand, he put it under the other's chin
and raised the bowed head. "Look up, fellow,
and— and— "
He stopped as their eyes met. Mr. Travers
said no word, but gazed back at him with a half-
reckless, half-serious smile on his face, as if he
cared not what was the issue. But Mr. Vernon
was visibly affected, and I trembled with fear; for
a word from him meant death to my cousin.
How long they stood thus, I cannot tell, but it
seemed to me like hours ; then in a harsh and
rather husky voice, Mr. Vernon spoke :
"Be off with you ! and hereafter sell your plums
on some other ship ; for, if I find you on the Good
Will again, you '11 not get away so easily!"
Picking up his baskets, Mr. Travers hurried
along the deck, and, a minute later, I saw him
run down the ladder and jump into a small boat.
Chapter XVI
SIX BELLS
I was in a flutter of excitement for the rest of
that day, and when night came down upon us I
thought the hours till eleven o'clock would never
pass. I went early to my little cabin, and got
into my berth to await the time when I must at-
tempt my escape.
All was prepared as best I knew how. I had
ready a gown of linsey-woolsey, and under it
hung my pack-pocket filled with those things I
could not bear to leave behind. They were trifles
mostly : the shoe-buckles, a brooch, and such like
things that Granny had given me. and also the
tiny tea-set carved out of bone by Jim Tasker,
the boatswain of the Bouncing Betsey. So, with
my precious book of Maxims clutched in my
hands, I lay and listened for the ship's bells to
sound the half-hours.
Finally five bells struck, and I rose quietly and
put on my dress. Then again I waited. Oh, how
long it seemed ! Everything about the ship was
exceedingly still, and the occasional rapid foot-
falls of those crossing the deck above my head
only served to make the quiet more complete. My
heart was beating furiously and my breath was
coming in little gasps, so great was my anxiety.
I was sure it must be past the time, and that the
sailor whose business it was 'had forgotten to
ring. When it began to sound, the first tap of the
bell seemed so loud and ominous that it startled
me ; but, summoning all the courage and fortitude
I possessed, I stole forth.
There was no one to heed me as I made my
way on deck, and, once there, I saw a clear path
to the break in the bulwarks where the com-
panion-ladder dropped down to the landing-stage
below. Gaining that, and beginning to feel al-
most safe, I looked down— and there, softly
whistling a tune to himself, was the guard stand-
ing near a lanthorn that made a circle of light
over the black water which gently lapped the
sides of the ship. I hesitated at the top, not
knowing what to do, for surely the sailor below
me would put a halt to my flight and rouse the
ship should I make a struggle. My heart sank
1912.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
709
like lead, for I had not expected him to be there,
having relied on my cousin's words of assurance
that the guard would be taken care of. All, then,
was lost, I supposed. For some reason or other
the plan had miscarried. Still, I meant to play
my part to the end, and so took the first step
down.
There was a creak as the ladder moved
slightly under my weight, and the sailor, catch-
ing the sound, turned and looked up at me. I
noted the surprised expression of his face as he
opened his mouth to speak ; but, at the same in-
stant, a dark shadow came into the ring of light,
and a boat touched gently against the stage.
Out of it leaped Mr. Travers, who immediately
sprang upon the guard and thrust a handkerchief
or cloth, I know not which, into his half-opened
mouth, thus preventing any outcry. Then fol-
lowed a short, sharp struggle, but the guard,
taken wholly by surprise, was no match for the
other, and, in a moment, was on his back with
Mr. Travers atop of him.
Meanwhile I had run down the steps, well
knowing what was going forward, and stood be-
side the struggling pair.
"Ah, you are just in time," whispered my
cousin, looking up at me with a smile. "This
fellow is tougher than I thought for, and you
will have to help or he will rouse the ship. Bind
his arms with that," he ended, nodding toward a
coil of rope which he had doubtless brought with
him for the purpose.
As quickly as I was able, for my fingers trem-
bled greatly, I put the rope under the guard's
shoulders. Then making a noose, I drew it as
tightly as I could about his arms while Mr. Trav-
ers held him. Once this much was accomplished
the rest was simple, and in a few moments he lay
helpless, though little the worse for his handling.
A moment later we stepped into the boat and, in
less time than I can write it, Cousin John had
rowed away from the ship and we were swal-
lowed up in the darkness of the bay.
We rowed on in silence, the boat cutting
through the water with scarce a sound. All about
us were the lights of the British ships. Should
my escape be discovered, an alarm would bring
a swarm of searchers ; but our luck held, and one
after another we passed the dim hulks of the
fhuge vessels, till at length we were free of the
fleet.
"And now, Cousin Beatrice, we can talk to our
hearts' content !" cried Mr. Travers, and he be-
gan plying his oars vigorously, caring little what
noise we made.
"And am I safe at last?" I asked, taking a long
breath and speaking aloud for the first time.
"Aye," said he, "for though there are plenty of
redcoats about, they 're on the other side of the
bay at Staten Island. But tell me, have you the
paper safe?"
"Yes," I answered, "and I am anxious to be
rid of it."
"No doubt, no doubt!" he agreed; "but you
must carry it yet a while, for we have a good
way to go before we reach the town, and I do
not mean to stop until we are there."
"Cousin," I said anxiously after a few mo-
ments, "can you forgive me for being a girl in-
stead of a boy?"
" 'T is a great tax on my forbearance," he made
answer ; and, not being able to see his face, I
knew not how to take it.
"Even though I am a girl," I went on, "I shall
try not to be a burden to you, and hope in a little
while, after I have learned the customs of Amer-
ica, to be useful. Granny says I 'm a good house-
wife and—"
"Nay," he interrupted, breaking into a hearty
laugh, "housekeepers are easy come by, and I
have a most excellent one already. But" — and he
dropped his voice, so that he spoke seriously—
"sisters are a different matter, and now that I
have found one, I mean to keep her. Do not
trouble your head on that score, Beatrice. I 'm
right glad you 're here, and I hope you will soon
love me as, by reason of your steadfast courage,
I have already begun to love you."
He was much in earnest, as I could tell by his
voice, and I was very, very glad.
"I know I shall love you," I answered, a little
huskily ; "and I should like you to call me Bee, as
they did at home, if you will."
"Good!" he exclaimed, " 'Bee' it shall be, and I
am Brother John. Is that agreed?"
"Yes, Brother John," I hesitated.
"That 's right," he laughed ; "now we shall be
truly brother and sister"; and he said it in so
kindly a way that all the heartaches and dis-
appointments were forgotten, and I felt that,
though I had, indeed, lost one home, I should
soon find another.
We talked while he rowed, and he asked me all
manner of questions about Granny and the boys,
and was very properly disgusted with Mr. Van
der Heist, though he admitted owing him some-
thing for sending him a sister. So, with the feel-
ing of safety and the realization that my troubles
were at an end, I must have dropped asleep, for
one moment I was listening to Brother John's
voice in the darkness, and the next I opened my
eyes to find that it was broad daylight, and he
laughing at me as he still rowed the boat.
"I 've been waiting very patiently for you to
710
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
wake up," he said half banteringly. '"I want to
see that paper now that there is light to read."
"Oh, yes, the paper !" I cried, taking up the
book and breaking a thread in the cover with my
bodkin. "Here it is !" and I drew it forth and
handed it to him.
He opened it eagerly, and I saw his face light
up with joy.
" 'T is splendid !" he cried, "and will put some
heart in the doubting ones, beside giving us a
place to buy powder for our army. Hold it safe,
Bee," he went on excitedly, "for the general must
have it before he goes on his daily rounds !" and
he picked up the oars and rowed furiously.
"And may I not know what it is now ?" I asked,
for I confess that the contents of the precious
document had greatly aroused my curiosity.
"Aye !" he answered heartily. "Though 't is a
secret, you deserve to know, and I need not fear
to trust your discretion. 'T is a letter, Bee, from
our agent at the French court, saying that, al-
though King Louis is not at this time willing to
come out before the world as a supporter of the
new government of America, for fear of war
with England, he, nevertheless, bids us count
upon him as a friend, and adds that the ports of
France are open to us."
There could be no doubt that he was overjoyed,
but somehow it seemed little for both the Ameri-
cans and British to make such a pother over.
I think he must have seen what was in my
mind, for he spoke further.
"You cannot possibly understand all it means to
us, who are fighting not only the British army
and navy, but many of our own people, who, from
fear, or hope of gain, stick to the Tory side and
do all in their power to discourage and hamper
us. For us to be able to say that France is our
friend will bring money and men to our colors,
and we need both sadly. Then, too, the chance
to secure arms and ammunition is most important.
You have brought glorious news, Bee, glorious !
and His Excellency, General Washington, will be
overjoyed when you hand it to him !"
( To be continued. )
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THE GREAT JUNE PARADE IN BEETLEBURG.
7H
THE WORLD WE LIVE IN
("Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects")
BY GEORGE LAWRENCE PARKER
When Robinson Crusoe landed on his island, the
first thing he did was to look about him to find out
where he was. And it is pretty certain that any
person who lands in this world of ours must do
the same thing, if he is going to get through life
at all well and nobly. The reason many young
people stumble at the threshold, as some one ex-
pressed it, is because they have not taken a square
look at the world where they are going to spend
their lives. A certain book says, "The wise man's
eyes are in his head," that is, they are where they
ought to be, where he can look straight in front
of him and all about him, and take a survey of his
surroundings.
I often meet with persons who say to me, "If
I had only had some one to tell me, I would n't
have made that great mistake." Now it is well
enough to have some one to tell us, but it is vastly
better to learn how to see for ourselves, and so
gain our knowledge at first hand. It is better to
have our eyes in our own head, and so be wise,
than to have them in some one else's head, and so
be only second-hand wise.
So in what I am now saying, I do not want you
to take my eyes, but to learn to use your own. I
only want to tell you one or two directions in
which to look. And if you honestly look, you will
see what sort of a world we live in. Seeing that,
you will know both how to make a friend of the
world and so gain companionship, and also how
to conquer the world instead of letting it conquer
you.
The word friend is a good one to begin with.
For, first of all, the world we live in is a friendly
world. It was not meant to be an enemy to men.
Its coal-mines warm us. Its seas carry us around
as a father carries his child on his shoulders. Its
sun gives us light by day, and, as if that were not
enough, we have the stars at night. Even the air
which, as it seemed, would never be conquered,
will, before long, prove itself a servant, perhaps,
wafting our air-carriages here and there. It is
true that the forces of nature sometimes kill men
by scores and hundreds ; but, in the long run, na-
ture is on our side, not against us.
It is important to know this friendly character
of the world, for this reason: no man is ever half
a man if he is all the while afraid. I used to be
afraid of the wind at night. I used to be afraid
of the dark; I am ashamed to confess it. The
little room up-stairs where I slept was very far
away from the rest of the family. I used to be
afraid of a dozen or more things, and suffered
accordingly, until I took a good look at them.
Then, one day, fear suddenly left me. Since then
all these supposed enemies have seemed to me like
old friends. If we run from such things, we will
always fear them; if we look at them, we will no
longer do so. It reminds one of the story told
of a great general in our Civil War. Speaking of
a certain battle, some one asked him if he was not
very much afraid. "Yes," he replied, "I was.
But the lucky thing was, I did n't run away !"
That 's the whole secret ! To be afraid, and
yet not run away ! That is bravery ! To look at
the world, and make it our friend by standing
still, right at our post. And all this we can apply
to people as well as to things. There are evil
men in the world, but, after all, there are a great
many more who want to do us good than there
are who want to do us harm. Beside which, evil
men are always cowardly, and the best thing to
do is to look them in the face and say, "I am not
afraid." It then becomes their turn to run away.
I have seen them do it.
Another thing to learn about this world is that
it was here, most of it at least, and running along
comfortably, before we came to it. Most of us
seem to think that we must make it all over again.
We waste many years trying to rebuild it. Now,
of course, we must change things about us as we
go along, but we can do that for the better only
when we realize that much has been very well
done without our help. It does n't do to be al-
ways criticizing. Good men have worked in all
past ages, and we are their heirs. So a wise man
or boy must always look behind him as well as
before him. Old books, old stories, old ways, old
lessons of honesty, and old thoughts of goodness,
many of these have been tried and found worthy.
We cannot afford to throw them all away, even
though we may hope to add something of our own
to them.
Yes, it was a world, an old world, before we
came ; and we ought to learn some of its old les-
sons, be ready to listen to the past, before we get
on very far in it. Of course, we want our own
new enthusiasm, and our fresh eyes to see things
for ourselves, but we must also link up with all
that the world can tell us about itself.
And if we use our eyes rightly, I think we must
next see that, though the world is old, it is not yet
complete. No matter how much has been done,
there is much yet to be done. It will never do to
THE WORLD WE LIVE IN
713
say, "Everything is finished. I have no chance ;
and I have no responsibility." Each of us has a
responsibility, and we cannot get rid of it. If I
fail in my place, or you in yours, we make a spot
of failure in the world.
And the world is not complete yet. I have still
a chance, as good a chance as the very first man
had. I have a responsibility. In this sense, the
world is not finished, but brand-new, almost as if
it waited for me to come and do my part. One
of the saddest things is to feel that the world
does not need us; to feel "out of place," as we
say. But no person is out of place who realizes
how much in this old world still remains to be
done. The United States would never have been
the United States except for the minute-men of
Lexington. The world will not even continue to
be as good as it is now unless we are world "min-
ute-men," ready, at short notice, to step out and
fight in the places of those who fall or pass on.
These are some of the things that seem very
plain about the world we live in. It is, first of all,
a friendly world. Then it is a world with a past
that I must listen to and heed. And then it is a
world with a great future, that depends upon me
and asks me to do my best for it.
Like Abraham Lincoln, let us sign ourselves,
"Yours to count on."
A CLUE CHASE
BY F. F. H.
A hard-up band of vacation spenders wanted
something to do. Therefore the "plotter" laid a
plot. With pencil and bits of paper he wandered
about, keeping "shy" of the rest, till at last he
announced he knew where there was "buried
treasure."
The mention of buried treasure at once aroused
interest. "What?" "Where?" they asked. But
he would not say what it was nor where it lay.
He offered, instead, to help them on their way
toward finding it by giving them a few clues. .
The clue "to begin with" was simply a sprig of
hawthorn which he presented to the searchers.
Of course they all went straightway to the little
hawthorn-tree stand-
ing in the yard. In a
few moments they dis-
covered well up in the
branches, where some
of the tallest of them
could just reach, a bit
of gray paper stuck
upon a long thorn.
Opening the folded
paper, they found a sketch done roughly with
pencil (Fig. i). They took this to be a swing,
and knowing where such a swing was hung, went
and examined it. Sure enough ! on the under
Vol. XXXIX.— 90.
side of the board was a similar gray paper clue
fastened with a pin.
This time the clue showed the drawing of a
bridge (Fig. 2).
%
C, An D
^
The only bridge
like that was a
quarter of a mile
away, but off they
went up the creek
till the bridge
was reached and
every crack in its
planking examined, as well as even the crev-
ices of its abutments searched. At last in a
hole behind a loose stone appeared the welcome
gray paper (it was always the same color), which
led them a step farther in the hunt. This step
was a long v
one, for it V. 3
carried them
back almost to
the starting-
place, since
they thought
they recog-
nized the hammock (Fig. 3).
But they found there were two hammocks very
much alike on neighboring verandas, so that a
714
A CLUE CHASE
search of both had to be made. Then while one
division of the party looked in vain for the gray
slip, the others whooped the announce-
ment from the veranda they had in-
vaded that it was found (pinned to the
back of the valence of the hammock),
and all got together quickly to try to
make out whose portrait (Fig. 4) had
been discovered.
The drawing — as one may judge —
gave a good chance for guessing, but
finally the man whom the majority
thought the victim was surrounded and
"held up" till out of a hip pocket came "'
the telltale clue. By this (Fig. 5) they were di-
rected to a certain tree, from the tree to a closed
annuo
shutter on a near-by house (Fig. 6), until they
found the last bit of gray paper inclosing, in place
of a drawing, a pinch of sand with a wild-rose
blossom and a spray of sumac leaves.
The sandy beach was tramped back and forth
till a wild rose and sumac were found together.
In their shade was a spot where the sand had
evidently been lately disturbed. Digging down
at this point, a box was soon uncovered. In this
UNEARTHING THE BURIED TREASURE
box was still another box wrapped in the fancy
paper of a confectionery-store, on which was in-
scribed :
The boy who first reached the spot and located
the "treasure" sat down beside the hole and
waited till all had gathered and "had a look" be-
fore opening the inner box. Then the contents
were divided. There was truly nothing over —
except the hunt.
WHO-OO?
BY JEAN HALIFAX
I wonder if you have ever heard
Of the queer, little, dismal Whiney-bird,
As black as a crow, as glum as an owl,—
A most peculiar kind of a fowl?
He is oftenest seen on rainy days,
When children are barred from outdoor plays;
When the weather is bright and the warm sun shines,
Then he flies far away, to the gloomy pines.
Dreary-looking, indeed, is his old black cloak,
And his voice is the dismallest kind of a croak,
And his whiney cry makes the whole house blue,—
"There 's nothing to do-00 ! there 's nothing to do-00 !
Did you ever meet this doleful bird?
He 's found where the children are, I 've heard.
Now, who can he be ? It can't be you.
But who is the Whiney-bird? Who-oo? Who-oo?
SIGHT-SEEING IN THE SUDAN
'LOW bridge! low bridge!
THE TOWNSEND TWINS — CAMP DIRECTORS
BY WARREN L. ELDRED
Chapter VIII
AN INHABITANT OF IVY-CLAD RUINS
About the same time the girls were nearing home,
the boys at Beaver Camp were assembling to
sample the specimens of camp fare which the
amateur cooks provided.
"This business of sprawling around here on the
grass to eat, is highly informal, no doubt," Bert
remarked; "but what are you going to do when
it rains?"
"We must build some sort of shelter around
our fire," the doctor replied. "We 'd better have
two fires— one for cooking purposes in the rear
of the bungalow, with a protection over it, and a
wind-shield, another out in the open, to be lighted
after dark for warmth and cheer. On stormy
nights, we '11 kindle a fire in the big fireplace over
there in the corner of the assembly-room, and
make a cozy place of it."
"Yes, that 's all right, but how about us ?" Bert
persisted. "I was n't thinking of the fire. When
it rains, where shall we eat?"
"Oh, we '11 take our meals inside," Tom told him.
"You generally take 'em inside, don't you?"
Lefty chuckled. "How about a dining-room table
and chairs? A few luxuries would n't hurt us."
"We can make a table out of those packing-
boxes that our things came in," Eliot suggested.
"They would give us plenty of material."
"Sure ! Every time we want to make it bigger,
we '11 just add a box. Then it '11 be a kind of
multiplication table. But if you sit on the floor
and eat off a box, don't you think it will be just a
trifle awkward? Don't let me discourage you at
all. I 'm willing to sit on the box and eat off
the floor, if it gets to be stylish up here. I only
mention the matter because it lies very close to
my heart," and Lefty concluded with a comical
flourish which drew howls of merriment from the
others.
"There 's a sawmill over at North Rutland,"
Tad observed. "Why not get some planed boards
and make a few benches ? Neighbor Pettingill
can bring 'em over with the cots and trunks, and
we could put 'em together, easy enough."
"We ought to have something to sit on," Bert
asserted vigorously. "We may have visitors some
time, and you would n't want to ask them to sit on
a trunk" or a barrel."
"If we have some visitors I know of, we may
have to sit on you," Lefty reminded him. "For
instance, Mr. Cjax Cat may call."
"I was n't thinking of Cjax," Bert protested.
716
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[June,
Finally it was agreed that some one should
visit North Rutland the next day, and order
enough lumber to make several benches for the
comfort and convenience of the campers and
their possible guests.
The cots had not arrived at nine o'clock, so the
party sought Tad's camp beds laid out on the
piazza floor. The night was warm and still.
There was no moon, and the dark shadows of the
woods seemed to shut the bungalow in on every
side.
Edgar Sherman did not know how long he had
been asleep, when suddenly he opened his eyes
and looked about him. Perhaps a muscle had be-
come cramped ; perhaps a bad dream had aroused
him; perhaps some unusual noise had disturbed
his slumber. Whatever the cause, he awoke with
a start, and seemed vaguely conscious of some-
thing amiss.
He raised himself on one elbow and looked up
and down the piazza. As far as he could see,
each camper was in his place, some sleeping
quietly, others restless, but asleep nevertheless.
Then he sat up to survey the grounds. No-
thing unusual there, except— what was that light,
gleaming for an instant along the path to the
lake, then becoming invisible, only to shine out
again? It must be a lightning-bug; but, no! the
fireflies darted hither and thither, and, by con-
trast, their glowing lights were dim. As Edgar
watched, the mysterious light moved, as if sig-
naling to some one in the bungalow. What could
it mean?
He crept to the end of the piazza and peered
into the dark shadows beyond. Involuntarily, he
gasped in astonishment. There was another light,
so like the first that it might have been a dupli-
cate. It gleamed and signaled from the dense
blackness of the woods near the camp road.
For a minute, Edgar was paralyzed with be-
wilderment, and stood staring at the uncanny
swinging of these strange signal-lights. Then a
novel plan suddenly suggested itself, and he
quietly disappeared inside the house.
Hurrying through the hall and out of the back
door, he found that a pile of glowing embers still
remained in the trench dug for the camp-fire. A
few of these he hastily transferred to a small
pan, using two pieces of wood as a pair of tongs.
He stopped in the house only long enough to
grasp two objects, shaped like cylinders, and then
returned to the piazza.
Yes, the two lights could still be seen. Now
they were drawing closer together and nearer the
bungalow. Onward they came, slowly, uncer-
tainly, nearer, ever nearer ! Now stealthy foot-
steps could be heard; now a cautious whisper
reached Edgar's ears ; now the lights stopped less
than ten yards away.
Edgar held one of the cylinders over the pan,
close to the red-hot coals. Then, rising quickly,
he hurled it toward the lights.
There was a sharp, sudden explosion, two dis-
tinct cries of terror, a crash, a sound of breaking
glass. Then the intruders could be heard running
away.
The explosion rudely awakened the campers,
and Edgar was surrounded by an eager group of
blanket-clad forms, all talking and questioning
at once. He told them of the invasion of their
premises, of his discovery of the intruders, and
of his suddenly formed plan to discomfit them.
Some of the boys had purchased a few fireworks
to celebrate the Fourth of July, which was close
at hand. Edgar knew where the giant crackers
had been placed for safe-keeping, and, in this
emergency, had thought of using one to hurl at
the trespassers. In the stillness, the explosion
had sounded like the bursting of a bomb. Little
wonder, then, that the intruders were so terrified
that they fled at top speed, leaving behind them a
broken lantern.
Of course, the camp was now thoroughly
awake, and excited comments fell from the lips of
one and another of the boys.
"You say one came up from the lake, Ed?"
cried Lefty. "Let 's have a lantern ! I '11 go
down and investigate if somebody '11 come along.
Who '11 go with me?"
No one cared to volunteer. The shock of sud-
den awakening, and the sensational news graph-
ically and excitedly told by Edgar, had, just for
a moment, stricken them with the paralysis of
panic. Then a voice cried:
"I '11 go with you, Lefty !"
The boys were dumfounded. It was Cousin
Willie !
"All right, kid ! Put on your shoes, and come
along."
Some one had brought a lighted lantern, and
this Lefty took. Waiting only long enough to
slip on their shoes and wrap their blankets about
them, the two boys hurried out into the dark-
shadows. Then Willie discovered that he had his
right foot in his left shoe, and his right shoe on
his left foot; but he was too excited to pay much
attention to the discomfort.
They made as little noise as possible, and kept
close together as they hurried down the path,
now colliding with a tree when they failed to
notice a turn, now stumbling over some obstruc-
tion, but keeping steadily on until, finally, they
stood on the landing.
Leftv flashed the lantern around, but there was
igi2.:
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
717
only one thing that betrayed the presence of the
marine division of the invaders. To one of the
little posts on the landing a piece of rope was
tied securely. Inspection of the end showed that
the rope had been cut with a sharp knife, a little
more than a foot below the post.
"He 's gone, Willie!" Lefty cried. "Listen!
Maybe we can hear something."
Faintly, over the water, came a sound of
splashing oars, growing ever more distant.
"H-m-m ! He can't get away fast enough !"
Lefty chuckled. "Say, kid, you had your nerve
with you all right to come down here in the dark
with me. I noticed that none of the others were
specially eager to come."
"I guess the doctor would have gone with you,
Lefty, but he did n't know anything about it,"
Willie made answer. "He and Tad were looking
for that other man."
Lefty could hear Willie's teeth chattering now,
and his voice trembled as he formed the words,
though he tried hard to control it.
"Well, you get the credit, anyhow," Lefty ob-
served approvingly. "I think you deserve promo-
tion, kid. Hereafter, I 'm not going to call you
Willie or Cousin Willie. From this time for-
ward, I christen thee Bill !"
Cousin Willie was so overcome that his terror
was banished, and he gasped in pleased surprise.
This honor meant more to him just then than a
doctor's degree, and he felt well repaid for forc-
ing himself to appear courageous at a time when
really he was quaking with fear.
"Will you, Lefty?" cried the delighted boy.
"I 'd like it ever so much if you would; but I 'm
afraid I was n't very brave. I was awfully
scared coming down here."
"So was I," Lefty cheerfully confessed. "You
can't help getting scared sometimes, Bill, but a
gritty fellow '11 pull himself together and do what
he thinks ought to be done, even if he is scared
stiff."
"You said you 'd stick to me, Lefty, and I
was n't going to have you come down here all
alone when I could risk it just as well as you."
"Good for you, Bill ! You 've made a fine
start ! You 've got all the fellows sitting up and
taking notice. Keep it up, and you '11 surprise
yourself. See if you don't !"
And the boy mentally resolved that he would.
Returning to the bungalow, the pair reported
the discovery of the rope, and this added a new
bit of sensation to the chronicle of the invasion.
There was little more sleep in Beaver Camp
that night, but the sun rose early, and made the
restless period of waiting seem shorter. As soon
as it was light enough, the boys explored the
grounds, hoping to find some further clue to the
identity of their unbidden guests ; but nothing
could be discovered except broken pieces of the
lantern.
The bright sunlight and the quiet, peaceful
atmosphere of early morning in a measure calmed
their fears. They began to think that the in-
truders came with a purpose mischievous rather
than malicious. They fancied that possibly the
parties responsible for the peculiar appearance
of Cjax might have returned to regain the cat
and play some further trick on the unsuspecting
campers. At any rate, the headlong, precipitate
flight of the trespassers proved that they were
badly frightened, and the boys believed that they
would not soon venture upon property so vigi-
lantly guarded and so noisily protected.
This was the day that had been set apart for
work on the athletic field, and, after an early
breakfast, the transformation was attempted* It
was an ambitious undertaking to convert a rough
clearing into a base-ball diamond, with possi-
bilities of basket-ball, tennis, and a running
track ; but the boys were determined to overcome
the natural obstacles, and this seemed to assure
success.
It was hard work— digging, leveling removing
rocks and stones, cutting down bushes, and try-
ing with a sickle to get rid of the tall grass.
They were glad to stop at half-past ten, and
plunge into the lake to cool off, and to gain rest
and refreshment from the change in exercise.
They went to work again after dinner, for it
seemed as if only a beginning had been made
during the morning. Tad and Lefty were ex-
cused, having announced their intention of visit-
ing the sawmill at North Rutland to purchase
lumber for the benches.
"It 's hot here in the sun," Lefty declared when
they were on the main highway. "Let 's cut
through those woods. It '11 be cooler, and it
looks as if we 'd come out again on the road.
See ! it bends around just the way the woods
run."
Climbing over a rickety rail fence, they en-
tered the woods and walked along in the shade.
At first, they tried to keep the road in sight, but
finding this difficult, they decided on what was
believed to be a parallel course, and held to that.
Presently the trees became more scattered, and
the boys could see fields beyond. A barbed-wire
fence barred their progress now, but they
scrambled through, each holding the wires apart
for the other to crawl between. Once on the
other side, however, no trace of the road was
visible.
"Oh, it 's just over here a little way," Tad said,
718
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[June,
halting and pointing to the right. "I wonder
what that thing is over yonder."
Lefty looked at it a minute, then suggested,
"Maybe it 's a ruined castle, Tad, like those they
build on the Rhine to make it romantic."
"Ruined mill, more likely ! or maybe the ruins
of a fort. You know this is revolutionary country
all through here, and that could easily be an old
fort, or some such thing. Let 's take a look at it."
The building in question had been constructed
of brick and appeared to have been partially de-
stroyed by fire. Its blackened and crumbling
walls and gaping window openings were almost
completely covered with ivy, which shielded their
bare ugliness, and softened the appearance of ex-
treme desolation.
The boys changed their course and approached
the building. Suddenly, a dog sprang out, bark-
ing and growling angrily. Close behind him came
a man almost as savage in appearance. He held
a heavy stick in his hand, and as he approached
the boys, he shouted excitedly,
"Get out of here ! get out of here !"
Chapter IX
AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE AND IN THE
enemy's COUNTRY
The boys were so startled at the sudden appear-
ance of these savage guardians of the ruins, that
they neither moved nor spoke. The dog halted
within a yard of their feet, growling in a man-
ner most trying to the nerves, while the man
flourished his club wildly, meanwhile shouting
commands to leave the premises, and threats of
dire vengeance if they presumed to delay their
going.
Presently Tad found his voice.
"We are trying to reach North Rutland," he
said in a pacific tone. "Will you be kind enough
to tell us how to reach the road? We seem to
have lost our way."
"We did n't know that we were trespassing on
your land," Lefty added. "We got off the road,
and now we 're trying to get back to it again.
We 're not trying to steal your — er— your dog.
All we want is to get to North Rutland."
The man looked suspiciously at them, and re-
mained silent for a moment. Then he spoke
sharply to the dog, and abruptly turned back
toward the ruins, his canine companion reluc-
tantly following.
"Thank you !" Lefty called after him.
The man swung around and strode toward him,
while Lefty held his ground and faced him de-
fiantly. When about four feet from the boys, the
hermit stopped and raised his club menacingly.
"What did you say?" he snarled angrily.
"I merely desired to assure you of our appre-
ciation of your great kindness in directing us
toward North Rutland," Lefty replied calmly.
"Not many men, I fear, would have taken so
much trouble for strangers."
The hermit stared at him a moment, as if he
had failed to understand. Then he pointed toward
a fence in the distance, and said roughly :
"See that fence? Just keep following that till
you get to the road. Now clear out ! If you
come sneaking around here again, you '11 wish
that you 'd stayed home !"
"We do now," Lefty muttered.
"And if you tell anybody that you found me
here— well, I '11 make you wish you 'd kept still.
Get along, now !"
"Au revoir," Tad responded, bowing politely.
"Very glad to have had the pleasure of meeting
you, sir !"
They turned away then, keeping a sharp look-
out for the dog, and tried to cross the field at a
pace swift enough to be prudent, though not so
rapid as to suggest flight.
Several times they looked back, and each time
found the monarch of the ruins watching them,
the dog, meanwhile, crouched near him. The
two figures scarcely moved as long as the boys
remained in sight, and they could almost imagine
that they still heard the savage growl of the
four-footed sentinel.
"Pleasant man to meet," Lefty ventured, after
a little.
"Extremely ! so amiable and sweet-tempered !
But, really, I think he 's crazy, Lefty. That 's
the reason I spoke gently to him. I 've heard
that it 's better to humor an insane person."
"I don't believe he 's been humored much. He
did n't seem specially humorous. Do you think
the dog was loony, too ?"
"Sure ! he had the same wild look in his eyes."
"And the same pleasant voice. I don't know
what 's going to become of us, Tad. We lease a
camp, pay our hard-earned ducats in advance for
it, and arrive on the spot to find a sign warning
us not to land. We arrange to have our stuff
lugged over from the railroad station, and lo ! it
appeareth in the woods. We lay us down in
peace to sleep, and behold ! stealthy stealers steal
stealthily upon us. We go splashing in the lake,
and find that Cjax mysteriously cometh among
us. We walk peacefully through the verdant
meadows, and a crazy man with a loony dog sort
of hints that our presence is undesirable. The
strain is awful ! and just think — we 've been here
only one full day and parts of two others ! What
will become of us before ten weeks roll around?"
igi2.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
719
"I can see where we all have to take refuge in
a sanatorium," Tad gloomily predicted. "Is n't
our life quiet and restful up here? No noise, no
excitement, just a peaceful, drowsy, monotonous
existence — not !"
After a little, they found that the hermit had
correctly informed them, for, by following the
fence which he pointed out, they came presently
upon the road to North Rutland. The hot after-
noon sun blazed down upon the highway with
almost no shade to relieve the heat, and the light
breeze felt like the hot blast of a furnace.
The boys did not feel inclined to hurry, so it
was mid-afternoon when they reached the rail-
way-station. Wandering over to the freight-
house, they hailed with delight -a dozen long, flat
bundles, tied in burlap wrappings and consigned
to "THOMAS TOWNSEND, BEAVER CAMP,
NORTH RUTLAND, VT." These were the
much-desired cots.
Neighbor Pettingill announced his intention of
bringing the cots, and the two trunks not yet de-
livered, over to Beaver Camp the next morning,
and they quite easily persuaded him to add to
his load such lumber as they would need for half
a dozen benches.
Next they visited the sawmill.
"We want board, Tad," Lefty whispered, "but
not table-board. Don't let the man get mixed up
and charge us for table-board when we want it
for benches."
"When you 're buying lumber, you have to
plank down your money in advance/' Tad re-
sponded; and Lefty collapsed.
Having bought their supplies, they prepared to
return to Beaver Camp.
"Do you suppose they sell ice-cream or soda-
water in this benighted place?" Lefty asked,
looking up and down the village street. "I 'd like
a banana split or a maple-nut frappe."
"Maybe they sell ice-cream at the feed store,"
Tad responded doubtfully; "but don't go to call-
ing for any of those fancy mixtures. If you do,
the natives '11 think you 're trying to make fun
of them. Where shall we go— to the tinsmith's
or the shoemaker's?"
"Not much variety to confuse us. There 's
only the railway-station, the general store, the
sawmill, the feed store, and the two industrious
citizens you mentioned. Let 's tackle the general
stpre."
This shop displayed ancient confectionery in a
glass case, and sold root-beer, ginger-ale, sarsa-
parilla, and birch-beer in bottles (eight cents
each, and a rebate of two cents for the return of
the bottle), but the beverages were not kept on
ice, so Tad and Lefty decided to forego them.
Just as they turned away from the counter,
two young men entered the store, and the boys
had a good view of them. Their clothing and
manner betrayed the fact that they were not na-
tives of any farming district. Indeed, they ap-
peared like college students, enjoying a summer
holiday.
One of the young men, turning suddenly, dis-
covered the scrutiny of the two boys. For a mo-
ment, he appeared startled, then abruptly turned
his back and became much interested in the
wares displayed for sale.
Tad and Lefty walked slowly out of the door.
Once on the piazza, they looked back, and found
both youths watching them with very apparent
interest.
"Well, I hope they '11 know us when they see
us again," was Tad's comment, and Lefty re-
sponded :
"I wonder how those fellows come into the
family. They seemed surprised to see us, and
terribly interested in something connected with
us. Well, I 'm shock-proof, now ! Nothing that
happens hereafter will upset me in the least.
Mysteries are getting to be every-day affairs."
"Maybe that crazy old hermit was one of those
fellows in disguise," Tad laughed.
"Sure! maybe the other fellow was the dog!"
Several other theories, some more sensible,
some equally ridiculous, were advanced during
the homeward trip. They discussed the hermit,
too, without reaching an agreement as to his
sanity. Tad thought him crazy; Lefty believed
he was only surly and ugly. Neither had con-
clusive proof, so each held to his original idea.
They agreed to say nothing about their ad-
venture, except to their fellow-campers, and as it
was now close to supper-time, they postponed the
recital of their experiences until the big camp-
fire was lighted and all had gathered around it.
Then, with all the dramatic power of which
they were capable, Lefty and Tad related their
adventures, concluding by telling their com-
panions of the peculiar interest which a certain
pair of young men had taken in them, at the
general store in North Rutland.
To say. that the boys were excited is express-
ing the situation very conservatively.
"What kind of a dog was it, Lefty?" Charlie
asked, after the first torrent of questions and ex-
clamations had spent its force.
"A character like that would, of course, have a
little black-and-tan," was the bland response.
"But we were afraid of turning black and
blue," Tad supplemented. "It looked dangerously
like it when those two brutes got after us. It
was a big dog, Charlie. Also it was a fierce dog.
720
THE TOWNSEND TWINS — CAMP DIRECTORS
[June,
Also, I think it was a cross between a wolf and
an elephant— very cross, in fact."
"What do you suppose the old fellow does out
there in the wilderness?" Walter asked curiously.
"Maybe he 's one of the witches of 'Macbeth,'
and the dog 's another."
"Yes, but there were three ! Where 's the
third witch?"
"Give it up ! attending a dress rehearsal, may-
hap," was the reply.
"I wonder if he really is crazy."
"He certainly acted crazy/' Tad affirmed. "He
had a wild, vacant look in his eyes, and you
ought to have seen how worked up he got when
we did n't clear out just as soon as he told us to."
"He may be crazy," Lefty admitted; "but it
seemed to me that he was more ugly than batty.
Perhaps he acted in that wild, loony way just to
make us think he had wheels in his head. I be-
lieve the old fellow has something out there that
he does n't want anybody to see. He keeps this
dog— a great, big, savage brute— and it 's not
likely that anybody would go near the place while
he was around. Perhaps he has a wonderful in-
vention that he 's half crazy about, and does n't
want anybody to steal his ideas. That would n't
be anything very unusual."
"Sure ! he may be building an aeroplane."
"That 's right ! He seemed to go up in the air
when he saw us coming."
"I 'd like to find out what he 's up to," Jack
ventured eagerly. "I wonder if we could coax
the dog away, and explore those ruins."
Lefty looked doubtful. "Perhaps you could,
but I 'm afraid the dog will be a hard animal to
coax, Jack. He seems to have very positive
ideas— dogged determination, I suppose. If you
attempt to persuade him to leave the premises, I
advise you to do it by telephone."
"Send him a wireless, Jack," Edgar suggested.
"Fling a thought-wave at him."
"Climb up into a tree and make a noise like
the bark to attract his attention," Bert added.
"Do you suppose he sleeps nights?"
"Maybe he does," Tad replied, "but it would n't
surprise me a bit to hear that he walked in his
sleep. I 'd hate to fall over him in the dark. He
has a peevish, fretful manner, and his society
would be most unpleasant after such an acci-
dent."
"I 'd like to have a look at the place," Tom ob-
served. "I 'm curious to know what the old fel-
low is doing out there in the wilderness."
"It 's our duty to call on him," Charlie added.
"He 's one of our neighbors, and we ought to
get acquainted with him. I wonder it did n't
occur to you to ask him if he had reception days."
"Considering the dog, had n't we better call at
night?" Lefty inquired. "An evening call at nine
or ten would be quite dressy. I think we shall find
him in, and if he and the dog are asleep, of course
we won't be rude enough to disturb them."
"Why not go to-night?" Tom urged. "We 're
all worked up to it now, and if we put it off,
likely as not the doctor won't let us go, or some-
body '11 back out and break up the party. Let 's
start now ! it '11 be dark when we get there."
"By the way, where is the doctor?" Eliot
asked. "I have n't seen him since supper."
"Gone up to see Mrs. Spencer. She sent for
him to come at some convenient time, and he lit
out as soon as we finished eating. Did n't you
notice how he was fixed up ? Tell you what !
Purple and fine linen are n't in it with the doctor
on dress-parade."
"I wish I had a chance," Jack groaned. "All
you fellows have your fixings, but my trunk has
been gathering dust over there in North Rutland,
waiting for Neighbor Pettingill to get ready to
bring it over. It 's a good thing I had some stuff
in my suitcase, or I 'd look like a scarecrow."
"Far be it from me to hint at anything like
that," Lefty retorted. "I have wondered why
the pretty crows with their musical voices passed
us by, but Jack has suggested the reason."
"Crows go for the corn, and we have n't any."
"Have n't we? You look in the kitchen closet,
Jacko ! I saw a whole can of corn on the shelf
this afternoon."
"What were you doing in the kitchen closet?"
"Oh— er— why, I just looked in to see if there
was anything needed in North Rutland; but
we 've decided to do our shopping across the
lake, hereafter, have n't we, Tad?"
"Sure!" was the good-natured response.
"They don't sell ice-cream, or banana splits, or
maple-nut frappes, or cantaloup sundaes in North
Rutland."
"Of course not!" Tom exclaimed indignantly.
"They sell wholesome food, like beans, and flour,
and peppermint sticks. You have n't any money
to waste on those fizzy things, Tad. You '11 need
it before the summer is over."
"That 's the worst of having a little brother,"
Tad complained. "He lets out all the family
secrets. Besides, proud critic, I have financial
resources that you know not. I have this day
sold unto Cousin Willie a two-cent stamp and a
postal card, receiving therefor three cents in
cash," and Tad rattled the coins triumphantly in
his pocket.
"Be good and we '11 give you some ice-cream
to-morrow," Tom promised. "It '11 be the Fourth
of July, and we 're going to celebrate."
igi2.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS — CAMP DIRECTORS
721
"Well, I hope old 'Zekiel Pettingill will cele-
brate by bringing my trunk over," Jack com-
plained. "This costume is getting a bit monot-
onous."
"Cheer up, Jack," Lefty remarked consolingly.
"When you have only one suit, you don't have to
worry about what you '11 put on. It might be lots
worse ! Just suppose you were sailing over the
briny deep to visit the crowned heads of Europe,
that way." But Eliot, too intent on his subject
to notice Tad's nonsense, shook his head doubt-
fully as he responded: "I was just planning for
straight, plain benches, extra strong."
"And extra soft?" Lefty inquired.
"Why— er— no ! Who ever heard of soft
benches? Such luxury would n't be good for us,
I 'm afraid."
"Well, are we going over to call on our mys-
NOW STEALTHY FOOTSTEPS COULD BE HEARD; NOW THE LIGHTS STOPPED." (SEE PAGE 716.
with your baggage on a different steamer. I 've
heard of such tragedies."
Jack sighed and shook his head. "I could be
cheerful, too, Lefty, if your outfit was missing,"
he declared. "It 's lots easier to bear trials philo-
sophically when they strike some one else."
"Now, Jacko ! You know that your tender
heart would be wrung with pity if I was minus
clothes," Lefty remonstrated.
"Speaking of being without things reminds
me of our furniture," Eliot remarked. "Did you
get the boards for those benches while you were
at the hustling metropolis?"
"Oh, yes," Tad assured him. "Can't we make
them up in the mission style, Eliot? It would be
really 'dressy' to have the bungalow furnished
Vol. XXXIX. -91.
terious neighbor?" Tom demanded, after a little.
"It 's quarter-past eight now. If we 're going,
we ought to get started."
"So say we all of us !" Tad agreed. "Get the
lanterns and any other trappings of war which
the camp can furnish. Then let us sally forth to
fling the gage of battle before yonder brave
knight of the ivy-clad castle."
"Yonder dark night !" Bert grunted. "Do you
know the way, you two? It '11 be dark as tar
pretty soon."
"Aye, follow the trusty guide !" Lefty an-
nounced, with a dramatic flourish. "We will
be in yonder moated grange (whatever that is)
before the stars that wink in yonder sky have
marked the passing of another hour."
722
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
They walked rapidly along the camp road, and
followed the highway at a brisk pace in the
gathering darkness until they came to the place
where Tad and Lefty had regained it after their
encounter with the hermit and his doe. The two
THE MAN FLOURISHED HIS CLUB,
THE PREMISES."
SHOUTING COMMANDS TO LEAVE
(SEE PAGE 718.)
boys had carefully noted this spot for possible
future reference.
Here they turned, climbed over a stone wall,
and, with lanterns unlighted, crept along in the
shadows. No one ventured to speak, and if some
hearts were beating faster than usual, perhaps
it was only reasonable to expect such a coin-
cidence with the exciting venture which claimed
their attention.
Tad and Lefty were in the lead, the others
following close behind. All at once the guides
stopped, and pointed across the fence.
The others looked in the
direction indicated, and could
dimly see a dark mass off in
the middle of the field be-
yond. It was the ivy-clad
ruin.
Silently and quietly, they
climbed over the fence and
cautiously approached the
abode of the mysterious her-
mit. Not a sound betrayed
the presence either of man or
dog, and the boys grew bolder
as they advanced. Now they
were close to the walls.
Cousin Willie had an elec-
tric pocket-lamp that dis-
played a bright light when a
button was pressed, so Lefty
mounted the smaller boy on
his shoulders, directing him
to look inside the nearest
window and see what was
within.
Determined to appear brave,
although he really was much
frightened, the boy steadied
himself against the wall, and
took from his pocket the elec-
tric flash-lamp. His hand
trembled violently, but it was
so dark that the boys could
not see his agitation, for
which Willie was thankful.
The wall was thicker than
from the outside it appeared to
be, so Willie stepped up on the
broad bottom of the window
opening, and edged forward,
feeling his way carefully.
The bricks and mortar had
been there for many years,
and even his slight weight
was more than could be sus-
tained. While the boys waited eagerly for the
flash of his lamp, and nerved themselves for any
sensational result that might follow, they heard
a sudden cracking, crumbling sound, a fright-
ened cry, and a soft, dull thud.
At once they realized what had happened :
Cousin Willie had fallen inside the ruins !
{To be continued.)
PRINCESS MARY
BY MARION RYAN
Princess Mary of England is probably the best-
loved little princess in the world to-day. Not
only is the princess adored by her people through-
out the country, the beloved sister of five brothers,
and the idol of the court circle, but, as the only
daughter, she is specially dear to the king and
queen. So it is rather surprising that, instead of
being a spoiled, ill-tempered, exacting princess,
impressed with her own importance to the ex-
clusion of everything else, she should remain, in
spite of all this adulation, a bright, jolly, and un-
affected girl.
A few years ago, when Edward, Prince of
Wales, her elder brother, started off to school,
Princess Mary, with tears in her eyes, begged her
mother to allow her to go to boarding-school also,
but the queen could not make up her mind to give
her consent. She did arrange, however, to have
her daughter with her as much as possible, so
that, after all, Mary is not as lonely as she feared
she would be, as, one by one, her brothers are
sent off to various institutions to complete their
education.
King George, too, devotes a great deal of time
to his little daughter. He gave her her first rid-
ing lessons not long ago, and, when she had
mastered the art of sitting her horse well, of
galloping, trotting, and jumping, he presented her
with the most beautiful chestnut pony for her
very own.
Until two .years ago, Princess Mary was a
genuine tomboy. She used to declare that she
hated being a girl, and she insisted' upon taking
part in all her brothers' games and sports. The
Prince of Wales pronounced her a "first-class
cricketer," and the younger boys admitted that
she could beat them as a fast runner, or even as a
high jumper. In those days the princess used to
weep bitterly when she was summoned indoors to
hem or knit, to practise scales on the piano, or to
have an hour's French or German conversation
with her governesses. She behaved much like
any other small girl on these occasions, if the
truth must be told. Now, however, since her
elder brothers are away most of the time, games
have lost much of their charm for her, and she
does not seem to mind the tasks which once
caused her such anguish. She makes all sorts of
useful garments for the poor, she is always
sketching or painting little pictures for church
fairs, and she does all the things her mother,
grandmother, and great-grandmother did before
her, and which are considered necessary to the
development of an English princess.
As a matter of fact, Her Royal Highness's days
are pretty full, and she is not allowed many idle
moments. She usually rises at seven and has a
ride in Hyde Park, or around the grounds at
Windsor, if the court is there. In very bad
weather, however, she prepares, instead, some of
her lessons at this early hour. She generally
breakfasts with Queen Mary at half-past eight.
At nine-thirty, she goes to the school-room, where
she works till one. After luncheon, she does some
sewing or painting, and the rest of the afternoon
she spends with her mother, unless the queen has
some public duty to perform in which the princess
cannot take part. In the evening, she can play
games with her little brothers, and parcheesi, lotto,
and checkers are great favorites in the royal nur-
sery. Sometimes she is taken to a concert, or
sometimes she dines with her father and mother,
and listens to music afterward in the queen's own
private boudoir, where only the family and very
intimate friends are admitted.
Reading is Princess Mary's chosen pastime at
present, and she would like to have more leisure
for this than she is allowed. She does not care
at all for girls' books, but loves tales of adven-
ture— Henty, Ballantyne, and Rider Haggard are
her favorite authors. Rather a curious selection
for a sedate young damsel of fourteen. Poetry,
too, has some charms for her, and only recently
she got into trouble by reading in bed, long after
she was supposed to be asleep, Tennyson's "Idylls
of the King." Queen Mary happened to visit the
children's rooms that night, and found her small
daughter sitting up in bed, her yellow hair done
in two tight braids, just as it had been prepared
for the night, her cheeks flushed, and her blue
eyes filled with tears for the woes of Elaine. As
nursery rules and regulations are very strict at
Buckingham Palace, Queen Mary took the book
away, administered a fitting rebuke, and turned
out the light, in spite of pleas from her daughter
to be allowed to read "just one more page." Next
day, there was an extra task added to the ordi-
nary ones of the princess, for Queen Mary is not
an over-indulgent mother, and the offense was a
serious one in her eyes.
Princess Mary has lovely, golden hair which
waves and curls and will not stay pinned back or
restrained in any way, but is always escaping
from nets and ribbons. Her eyes are gray blue.
724
PRINCESS MARY
[June,
Her face is very bright and animated when she is
talking, and she has a charming, silvery laugh —
just such a laugh as a princess in a fairy tale
might have. She has a rather quick temper, but
she tries hard to control it, and is always deeply
Prince Albert.
Prince Henry.
him. She is exceedingly proud of him, talks of
him continually, and writes to him every other
day, eagerly awaiting his replies, which are not
very prompt. As Edward is now away most of
the time, preparing for his duties when he comes
Edward, Prince of Wales.
Prince John. Prince George.
THE PRINCESS AND HER BROTHERS.
From photograph by W. & D. Downey, London, Eng".
mortified whenever anger gets the best of her.
Not long ago, she asked one of the officials of her
mother's household to perform some small ser-
vice for her. He answered that he would do as
she desired as soon as he finished a task on which
he was engaged. The princess became very im-
patient, stamped her foot, and demanded that he
should at once do as she wished. Queen Mary
happened to be in the next room, and heard all
that had taken place. She came at once and
joined her daughter, saying quietly, "Mr. is
here to serve me, not to wait upon naughty little
girls who do not know how to behave themselves.
Go to your room immediately and wait till I
come."
After a talk with her mother, the princess apol-
ogized to the official for her rudeness.
Of all her brothers, Mary is most fond of the
Prince of Wales— "Eddie," as she always calls
to the throne, Mary is thrown upon the compan-
ionship of her younger brothers, and last summer
in Scotland she learned Scottish dances with
them, and also took up golf. The boys found
great difficulty in mastering the difficult reels and
foursomes— as a reel with four dancers is called
— which are danced in the Highlands, but Prin-
cess Mary enjoyed her lessons and learned
quickly.
Golf proved a joy to all the royal children.
They played on the links at Balmoral, which have
been specially laid out for them, and, as it was
holiday time, they passed whole days following
the little white ball.
When Prince Albert first commenced the game,
he begged Mary to come and watch him "drive
off," so his sister took up her position near him
and waited events. Prince Albert started with a
tremendous flourish, but onlv hit the earth. He
IQI2.]
PRINCESS MARY
725
tried again and yet again, with the same result.
At last he did move the ball about a foot. Prin-
cess Mary watched him with her blue eyes danc-
ing with mischief, and at last she said quietly,
"Oh, Bertie dear, don't be so violent ! You will
lose the ball if you are not careful."
Certainly no one in all England enjoyed the
coronation more than Princess Mary. She rode
in a carriage with four of her brothers, and the
must behave as such. When she put on her pretty,
white coronation frock, her pale-blue velvet robe,
and the coronet of her exalted rank, the princess
was quite delighted, and nothing would do but
she must make a tour of the palace and show her-
self to her favorites in the royal household, be-
fore getting into the state coach to drive through
the streets to Westminster Abbey.
On the whole, Princess Mary of England is a
From photograph by Lafayette, Ltd., London, Eng.
PRINCESS MARY.
royal children were greeted with as much ap-
plause as the king and queen themselves. Mary
bowed right and left, and could be seen nudging
her small brothers on the opposite seat, to remind
them that they must bow to the crowds, and not
get so interested in all around them as to forget
that they, too, were a part of the pageant, and
very fortunate girl, indeed, and considers that she
has but one grievance in life — that she has no
sister ; nor has she in England even any girl cous-
ins of her own age, but Queen Mary has prom-
ised her that she shall have some of the European
princesses as guests at Buckingham Palace, a
privilege, we may be sure, she will fully appreciate.
PLAYING THE GAME
(A sequel to " The Battle of Base-ball" )
BY C. H. CLAUDY
Chapter I
THE THEORY OF THE ART OF PITCHING
"Play ball!"
With the first touch of the spring breezes, and
often long before the frost is well out of the
ground, a hundred thousand men and boys hunt
spent in which he has not had a base-ball in his
hands. And, if he be a true knight of the leather
sphere, the green diamond, and the three bags
(so near together, yet oh, at times, so very far
apart!), he is seldom happy if he has n't had at
least one chance to demonstrate to his companions
and fellow-players how he can "curve 'em over."
RUSSELL FORD, OF THE NEW YORK HIGHLANDERS.
Showing the "follow through" motion, as the ball was released for
the pitch long before the arm crossed the body of the pitcher.
up the old gloves, the much-used bats, the dented
masks, the stained and roughened balls, and be-
gin the summer's campaign. Most of them play
"just for fun," a few to make themselves better
ball-players, but all for the love of the greatest
of games. And in the intervals between their
own games, these players read the papers, watch
the Big and little League games, and, most of all,
the scores of the sixteen Major League clubs in
their battles, day by day.
Meanwhile the average boy is not content with
reading of fine base-ball, and counts that day ill
RUCKER, OF THE BROOKLYN CLUB, NATIONAL LEAGUE.
A remarkable picture of a noted left-handed pitcher in action. Note
the "follow through" of the arm, the shoulder, and the body, and the
perfect poise of the whole figure, showing that the throw has not over-
balanced the pitcher.
Were it a possible thing, every nine of lads
would have nine pitchers ! To the boy who would
play ball, there is always an especial fascination
in pitching, and this, be it said, quite outside any
ability he may possess in this direction. He
wants to pitch, whether he can or not, probably
because he knows the pitcher often holds the
opposing team in the hollow of his hand; because
on him seems to rest the greatest responsibility ;
and also, perhaps, because the pitcher- is the
busiest player in the field and has more work to
726
PLAYING THE GAME
727
do than the rest of his fellows. And all boys
love to "work" — on a ball-field!
If only it were possible to convince boys that
no one position is of greater honor than another !
If only that team of lads of fourteen, of which
the writer was once a member, could have real-
ized that each position on the team is of equal
importance with the rest, that no special merit
should belong to any one position ! But, alas !
there was only one boy who really knew anything
about pitching, and they would n't let the author
pitch more than one game in nine ! Of course,
only when he pitched was there any decent hurl-
ing done at all. (What are you laughing at?) But
every boy wanted his "turn" on the mound, and,
being a democratic group of lads, every one of
them got it, with the sad result that only about
two games in ten were won !
Now, admitting for the sake of argument that
absurd ; that out of any nine boys or men, one or
two must pitch far better than any of the others.
In this chapter and the next, it is hoped to
BROWN, OF THE CHICAGO CLUB, NATIONAL LEAGUE.
He has just finished pitching an out-drop, which has swung his body
and arm far over to one side. He has " followed through " his pitch,
and is instantly ready to field the hit which may be made, particularly
if it is a bunt, in the handling of which this pitcher is especially skilful.
pitching represents more fun and less waiting, —
that you have more to do when you pitch, and,
therefore, have a better time,— let us also agree
that the plan of rotation in the pitcher's box is
"CHIEF' BENDER, OF THE WORLDS CHAMPION
ATHLETICS, AMERICAN LEAGUE.
He has just pitched a straight fast ball. See the easy swing of his
whole body in the "follow through" pose in which the camera caught
him, and note how the shoulder has backed up the arm in making the
pitch. Bender led the American League in 191 1 in percentage of
victories with a mark of .773.
show something of the way to such success, and
also of the way in which a young captain and
manager can determine which of his nine players
is already the best pitcher.
Before you can either pitch well yourself, or
judge another's pitching from the pitcher's stand-
point, you must, of course, know something of
the theory of pitching— both the mechanics, or
science of the actual muscular act of pitching a
ball, and the theory on which the game is built,
or the reasons why the pitcher must do the va-
rious things he does.
What is a pitcher for?
"To fool the batters !" "To prevent the bat-
ters from hitting the ball !" "To strike out as
many men as he can !" "To pitch balls for the
batters to strike at !" "To prevent batters mak-
ing hits and getting on first base !"
These and many other answers come quickly to
mind. Yet it is rather hard to define, in one sen-
728
PLAYING THE GAME
[June,
tence, a pitcher's duties and his reason for exis-
tence. And perhaps the best definition of what a
pitcher is for would be a collection of all those
answers given above and a few others. It is true
that a pitcher is supposed to fool the batters ; but
he must do much more. It is true he wants to
prevent the batters from hitting the ball, if he can
do so easily and without strain to his arm; but he
would be a poor pitcher who forgot that there
were eight other
players on the
team, and who
tried to win the
game all alone. It
is true that strik-
ing out the batter
is a feat which
any pitcher is glad
to perform on oc-
casion ; but few pitch-
ers in big leagues
accomplish it often.
Ten or twelve strike-
outs in a game is a big-
record,— and the Big-
League strike-out record
for the season of 1910,
of 313 men, made by
Walter Johnson, of the
Washington Club, was
admitted by the holder
to be entirely too big.
since, in 191 1, he had
fewer strike-outs, by
many, but he won a
greater percentage of
his games ! Surely it is
the pitcher's business to
pitch balls for the bat-
ter to strike at, inas-
much as if there were
no pitcher, there could
be no ball game. Yet
any boy knows that the
balls thrown for the batter to strike at must be
pitched in as puzzling and deceiving a manner as
possible. Pitchers do try to prevent batters from
making hits and getting on first base, yet there are
times when it is the wise thing to do to let the
batter get "on," and get rid of him in that way, in
favor of a weaker hitter. For instance, Mathew-
son, the great, passed "Home-Run Baker" in an
important game of the last World's Champion-
ship, rather than take the chance of another one
of those disconcerting home runs.
So the question of what a pitcher is for is
complicated, and not to be answered in a breath.
MARQUARD, OF THE NEW YORK
CLUB, LEADING PITCHER OF
I9II, NATIONAL LEAGUE, WITH A
MARK OF .774.
Showing a pronounced "follow
through," a perfect after-pitch poise, and
how the whole body gets into the work
of pitching a ball with terrific speed.
As to the question of the theory of the me-
chanics of pitching, it is a matter of record that
the great pitchers are those who have heads as
well as arms. Mathewson, Bender, Walsh, Ford,
"Old Cy" Young, are all men with brains as well
as brawn. So it may well be that if you will go
a bit into the theory of the art of pitching, and
try to understand just what makes a base-ball act
in such peculiar ways when thrown with various
grips and motions, you will, as a result, be able
to pitch winning ball.
If it were possible to make a ball of a perfectly
spherical shape which was of the same density all
through, and to throw that ball without any
twisting motion, through a vacuum, it would
travel in a perfectly straight line, its only
curvature being that of rise and drop, due
to the effort of the throw and the action
of gravity. This is easily understood.
But no such
ball is ever made ;
it is very diffi-
cult to throw any
ball without some
twisting motion
being imparted
to it, and no balls
are thrown in a
vacuum. The re-
sult is that no thrown ball ever
does travel in a straight line.
It was many years, however, before
the slight deviations from the supposedly
straight path of a thrown ball were noticed,
and even then, for a long time, they were
supposed to be optical illusions. But with
the discovery, not only of the fact that a
ball did curve in the air naturally, but could
be made to curve in any direction, came a
revolution in the art of pitching. Now this
finger magic has been developed to a point
where the pitcher seems to have control of
the ball even after it leaves his hand !
But note this, and note it carefully. While,
once the ball has left the pitcher's hand, nothing
that he can do can have any effect upon its course,
the position which his hand, arm, and body take,
after the ball has been pitched, has much to do
with the way the ball travels. It is the theory of
"follow through," which finds a place in all ath-
letic sports involving the use of a ball. The foot-
ball kicker kicks a ball off the ground. A snap-
shot picture of his kick shows his leg at the
finish of the kick almost on a line with his head.
Yet the ball was several feet away from him at
that time. But by kicking his foot as high as his
head, he got the maximum of force into his kick.
1912.]
PLAYING THE GAME
729
The golf-player hits the elusive golf ball on a
tee, and photographs have shown that the ball al-
most instantly leaves the head of the club. Yet
he continues his swing on and up and over his'
shoulder. If he did n't have force enough in his
swing to do that, he would n't drive the ball very
far. The tennis-player should serve (according
to an eminent English authority) so that the
racket continues down until it hits his knee ! Yet
the ball leaves the racket in service, overhead.
But if the racket were-checked in its course, not
A ball from a gun will not shoot true for any
distance, if the bore of the gun is not rifled, or
cut in spiral grooves. These spiral grooves im-
part a rotary motion to the ball or bullet, the axis
of which is the line of flight of the bullet, which
keeps it true on its course. It is also rotary mo-
tion on a base-ball that causes it to curve, and vari-
ations in this rotary motion and its direction with
reference to the line of flight of the ball which
is responsible for all the different curves. But
pitchers not only make a ball curve, in, out, down
DIAGRAMS OF CURVES AND SHOOTS.
all the force possible would have been in the
swing of the racket-strings against the ball.
So in pitching. The hand, arm, and body must
"follow through" the pitch. Failure to throw
with an effort which will swing the hand and
body to their limit of motion, means failure to get
the full effect of which the pitcher is capable.
But, impossible though it is for any one to con-
trol the path of a thrown ball after it leaves his
hand, it is certain that a pitcher can make the
ball do his bidding by the way he handles and
throws it. And this wonder is accomplished by
no more mysterious means than the grip upon the
ball, the position of the hand, arm, and wrist at the
instant the ball is let go, the angle at which it is
thrown, and the way the throwing force is applied.
Vol. XXXIX.— 92.
(and, as some have even claimed, up), but they
make the ball "jump" and "shoot" suddenly and
oddly. Moreover, they control, with an ability
which is quite uncanny, the place at which this
jump or shoot of the ball is to occur! These
jumps and shoots are the result not only of the
revolution of the ball about its own center, but of
the force of the thrown ball, piling up a billow of
air in front of it, which suddenly becomes dense
enough materially to affect its progress, acting
almost as a solid obstacle, and deflecting its
course. Add to this the practice of moistening
one side of the ball, and the result in the so-called
"spit" ball is a series of aerial antics which fool the
wisest batsmen. Finally, the pitcher can even con-
trol to some extent the apparent size of the ball.
730
PLAYING THE GAME
[June,
It is wise to get at least the elements of the
theory of base-ball curves into one's head, before
attempting to pitch a curve. The whole theory is
not understood. No one has yet been able to cal-
culate all the factors which enter into the appar-
ently simple fact that a pitched ball curves in dif-
ferent directions, nor all the reasons for its acting
as it does — so many complicated problems in
physics and mechanics are involved that even
mathematicians and astronomers have balked at
the problem. But its elements are simple enough.
Let us suppose a ball is traveling from A to B
(Fig. i), and revolving in the direction of the
arrow. It is obvious that the side of the ball
toward the bottom of the page is traveling faster
against the air than the side toward the top of
the page, since it is moving against the air, not
only with the forward motion of the ball, but
with the revolution of the ball. The side of the
ball toward the top of the page is rubbing against
the air through which it passes with its forward
motion, but less its speed of revolution.
The ball, going through the air at speed, com-
presses, or piles up, or "billows" the air in front
of it, just as a boat, moving through the water,
piles up a little billow or wave of water in front
of its stem. There is, of course, friction between
the cover of the ball and the air. And the fric-
tion is greatest on the lower side of the ball in
Fig. I, because that part of the ball is rubbing
faster and harder against this billow of air than
the side of the ball nearer the top of the page.
The ball naturally follows the path of least re-
sistance. All its impulse is to continue in a
straight line, but the greater friction on one side
fairly pushes the ball out of a straight line, mak-
ing it follow the path A— C (greatly exaggerated
in the diagram).
Now, if you will imagine this ball to have been
thrown by a right-handed pitcher, with a side-
arm motion, and that his hand had grasped the
ball tightly with two or three fingers before he
threw it, you will have a fair conception of the
in-curve of a right-handed pitcher.
But just here let it be said that there is a vast
difference between the sweeping in-curve of a
right-handed pitcher and the in-shoot which
pitchers use to fool batsmen. The natural in-
curve is a wide curve, a "barrel hoop," as it is
sometimes called, and the ball curves almost from
the time it leaves the pitcher's hand. It is easily
seen and easily judged, and fools no one who has
ever hit against it. Because it is thrown with a
side-arm motion, it is seldom seen in "Big-
League" base-ball, where all pitched balls must
look alike when they are delivered. The in-shoot,
while curving in the same direction, "breaks," in-
stead of curving from the time it leaves the
pitcher's hand— in other words, it goes straight
for a while and then curves suddenly, and when
well pitched, is hard to hit (Fig. 3). It is hard to
learn to pitch and control, compared to the ordi-
nary wide or barrel-hoop curve, particularly when
the in-shoot has to be pitched so that it does n't
look like one when it starts !
All the various curves are produced, however,
by imparting a rotary motion to the ball as it is
thrown. Pitchers say "the ball curves the way it
is pinched," which means that the direction of the
curve is toward that part of the ball which re-
ceived the most friction from the fingers. The
harder the ball is pinched between the fingers, the
more drag or pull the fingers exert on the surface
of the ball when it is released (see Fig. 9) ; and
the faster the revolution, the more decidedly the
ball curves, providing always that revolution is
at an angle with the line of flight. Only, be it
noted, the speed of the ball affects the curve also
—thus, a ball traveling fast and revolving fast
will "break" or "shoot," where one traveling
slowly and revolving swiftly will curve more
slowly; hence one hears much of the "fast in-
shoot," "a fast jump ball," "a fast, waist-high
ball which broke sharply," and but seldom of
slow-jumping or breaking balls, although there
are ways of throwing a slow ball which, if it
does n't exactly jump, does act as if controlled
by an imp. Of these, more later.
The more common curves are the "out," the
"in," and the "drop," which are thrown or pitched
so that, in the out-curve, the ball revolves from
right to left, the in-curve, from left to right, the
drop, in the direction in which the ball is going.
The so-called "raise ball" probably never was
pitched, although "Iron-man" McGinnity is cred-
ited with having mastered it; theoretically, a ball
pitched forward and revolving backward ought
to travel on a straight line gradually bending up-
ward into a curve. But the action of gravitation
is too strong for the feeble pull of the friction of
the cover of the ball against air to overcome. So
the "raise ball," so-called, does n't really rise up
out of a horizontal course, but it does refuse to
drop at the same point at which a "straight" ball
would drop. And it has other effects, some of
them at times very curious. In Fig. 2 is a dia-
gram of the out-curve, usually the easiest of all
curved balls to throw, apparently because the
curve to the ball is imparted by a motion of the
hand and wrist which is a natural continuation of
the natural curve of hand and wrist when used in
the act of throwing. In this diagram, the ball is
made to revolve from the pitcher's right to the
pitcher's left. The heaviest friction has been ap-
1912.]
PLAYING THE GAME
731
plied by the ends of the fingers and the side of the handed pitcher can pitch what is to the batsman
index-finger, the back of the hand being to the an in-shoot with the same ease the right-handed
FIG. 6. THE "RAISE BALL."
right and down when the ball is released between
fingers and thumb. Following the pitcher's rule,
that the curve is in the direction of the heaviest
pinch, this ball curves to his left, or the batter's
right, hand. If a right-handed batter, the ball
curves away from him ; hence it is called an "out-
curve."
Figs. 3 and 4 show diagrams (all these diagrams
are, of course, greatly distorted and exaggerated,
in order to make the direction of the curve plainly
visible) of an in- and an out-shoot, which are dif-
ferent from an in- and an out-curve in that the
pitcher handles the out-shoot, that he is so valu-
able to his team— he can get a wider, sharper
break on the in-shoot than can the right-handed
pitcher. Hence it is that the left-handed pitcher
is not used against teams of men who bat left-
handed, as often as against a right-handed team,
and that, when a left-handed pitcher is an-
nounced, so many managers will shift their line
up, to bring more left-handed batsmen into play.
In Figs. 6 and 7 are found diagrams showing
the so-called raise ball and the drop ball. In these
diagrams, the spectator is supposed to be standing
Normal
■*%,-«-
«°%
FIG. 7. THE " DROP.'
ball, while shooting in or out, commences its curve
later than with the simple curve, and breaks more
sharply. Pitchers usually claim that the dif-
ference between the shoot and the simple curve
is a difference in pinching the ball, and the pres-
ence or absence of a wrist twist or flick at the
instant of delivery, which adds greatly to the
speed of the revolution of the ball ; also the in-
clination of the axis of this revolution with refer-
ence to the line of flight has much to do with the
point at which the "break," or deflection, occurs.
on the ball-field, looking at right angles to the
pitcher. In Fig. 6, the ball is seen leaving the
pitcher's hand with a reverse revolution; it is
going forward but revolving backward, and the
greater friction against the bottom of the ball
(that part toward the earth) tends to hold it in
its course longer than if it was a straight ball.
It does n't drop when the batsman expects it to,
in other words.
Fig. 7 shows the reverse : the ball, sent from
the pitcher's hand so that it drags off the surface
(Has qo revolution)
<?"
FIG. 8. THE MOIST, OR "SPIT," BALL.
Fig. 5 shows an "out-curve" as thrown by a
left-handed pitcher. To him it is thrown with the
same motion and effort as the in-curve is thrown
by a right-handed pitcher. It is because the left-
of the fingers underneath the ball, instead of on
top of the ball, is revolving in the direction of its
motion. As soon as a little billow of air is created
in front of it, it is forced out of its normal path
732
PLAYING THE GAME
[June,
away from this friction, and drops, sharply, aided,
of course, by gravity.
But it must not be imagined for an instant that
there are only four varieties of curve balls. There
are almost as many curves as there are pitchers.
Moreover, balls curve differently and "break" at
different points, according to the position in
which the hand may be, with relation to the body
of the pitcher, at the moment of release. Add to
these factors each man's individual knack of
grasping a ball, holding it, letting it go, and it can
easily be seen why there are so many varieties of
curve balls, "hooks," "shoots," "jumps," "floaters,"
etc., in the arsenal of the Big-League pitchers.
Nor does the pitcher's equipment end with his
multitudinous varieties of curve balls, his armory
of jumpers and breakers. He also has that most
puzzling of weapons, the change of pace, and a
curious thing called a slow ball. Consideration
of these takes one at once from the realm of
physics and mechanics into that of athletics,
muscle, and the action of the mind. It is a
curious fact but a true one, that a ball which re-
volves rapidly while traveling through the air
looks smaller than one which does n't revolve. A
plain, slow ball, thrown without any attempt to
produce a curve or deceive the batter, looks "like
a balloon," as the players put it. Pitch a dozen
fast balls to a batter, and then, without warning,
a slow one, and he will almost fall over in his
anxiety to hit it. He generally hits at it before
it gets to him ! But pitch him another imme-
diately, and he will judge it correctly, and knock
it out of the lot ! The ball did n't deceive him
the first time; he saw that it was bigger and
slower than the fast curves, and knew just what
he ought to do, but being "set" for faster ones,
he did n't have time to get ready to advance on
the slow one, his swing was too quick, and he
"fanned." But the slow ball may be delivered so
that it looks small, like a fast one ; and one of
the most puzzling of the various deliveries it is !
Like the curves, it is made to revolve by friction
with the fingers, but its direction of revolution is
directly opposite to its line of flight — it is, in fact,
one variety of the raise ball. But whereas the
raise ball, like all the more puzzling of the curve
balls, is thrown with swiftness, since the higher
the speed and the greater the revolution the
sharper the "break" of the curve, the revolving
"floater" is not thrown fast at all. All the muscu-
lar effort ordinarily imparted to the ball in an en-
deavor to get swiftness is here put into a flip of
the wrist and a squeeze of the fingers, to get a
sharp backward revolution of the ball. It is hard
to describe, but it may be said, perhaps, that the
effort is made to throw the ball forward and pull
the hand throwing it backward at the same time,
so that the ball is made to revolve very rapidly
backward. It comes up to the plate looking like
any other swift and curving ball, small to the
eye, since it is revolving swiftly, and as it can be
thrown with the same motion of the arm and ap-
parently with full muscular force, the batter has
no reason to doubt that it is a fast ball. So he
strikes at it, and the ball, of course, being much
slower than it looks, has n't got there yet ! and the
batter looks, as he feels, foolish !
You must never forget that the batter seldom,
if ever, hits at the ball. He hits where he ex-
pects it to be. He has only a fraction of a second
to make up his mind where he is going to hit that
ball ; only a tiny interval to make his plan and
swing his bat. So when he sees a ball start toward
him with the same motion and the same appear-
ance which accompany a very fast ball, he gets all
ready, and hits at that fast ball. It is for this
reason that the real slow ball, as developed by all
good pitchers nowadays, is so effective, and why
the average boy has no success with it. The Big-
League pitcher pitches a slow ball which looks
like a fast one; the lad pitches a slow ball which
is simply his fast ball thrown with less effort.
But still we are not at the end of the pitcher's
collection of "teasers." There is what is known
as the "spit" ball. It is n't a very pretty name,
but it is highly descriptive of the thing itself— a
ball one part of which is moistened to make it
slippery. It is obvious that any ball held in the
hands must be held on more than one side. It is
also obvious that to make that ball revolve, one
side must have a heavier friction from one part of
the hand than the other part has with the other
part of the hand, at the instant the ball is let go.
So it seems plain enough that if that part of the
ball where friction is not wanted is made slippery,
the fingers will slide off it more easily than other-
wise.
That is the reason for moistening one part of
the ball— to make it slippery. But it is not, as
might be imagined, simply to produce a wider
curve. It is to make the ball indulge itself in
antics which fool batsmen— nay, which fool the
pitcher himself sometimes, and his catcher not
infrequently.
A pitcher named Elmer Stricklett is credited
with the invention of the spit ball. He was with
the "White Sox," in training camp, and one day
pitched a ball in practice to the batters which
none of them could hit. One of them said after-
ward :
"That ball was bewitched! You can't tell me!
I 've been playing ball all my life, and Major-
League ball for seven years, and I never saw a
1912.]
PLAYING THE GAME
733
ball do two things at once before ! It starts off
like a curve, and then wobbles round in the air
like a slow one, and ends up with a jump !"
And that is n't a bad description of a spit ball,
at that. It is a little doubtful if the ball really
does all these things. What probably happens is
this: the ball is held very much as one holds it for
an in-curve. The thumb is placed squarely against
a seam of the ball, and the ball tightly gripped to
make the thumb's skin "bite" on the seam. Then
the ball is moistened with saliva, where the fingers
will grip it. The ball is then pitched overhand,
with great force. The result is that the ball,
slipping out from the moistened fingers, gets its
FIG. 9. THE PRINCIPLE OF ALL CURVES.
Look at this diagram and suppose it is from the point of view of a
man standing beside a pitcher. It shows a drop ball — one revolving
the way it is going, and having its greatest friction on top.
only revolution from the thumb, which has not
surface enough to impart much revolution. It
progresses toward the batter without much spin
of any kind— the seams are sometimes visible to
the man waiting for it at the plate.
Now a ball without revolution and thrown
swiftly is at the mercy of the air— as a billow of
air piles up in front of it, it "wobbles" from one
side to the other, in the effort to escape this ob-
struction. Finally, as the speed dies out but as
the billow of air gets most dense, the ball breaks
sharply down (Fig. 8) and to one side or the
other— and the batsman is left staring at what
has to him at different times in its flight ap-
peared a slow ball, a fast ball, a curve, a straight
one, and which finally ends up as some variety
of a drop ! Do you wonder that it is hard to hit?
Here are different accounts of it by two men
who ought to know a great deal about it. Clark
Griffith, formerly a star pitcher, now manager of
the American League Washington Club, said to
the writer : "The ball is misnamed. It ought to be
called a thumb ball, because it takes its last im-
pulse and friction from the thumb, which is down
under the ball when it is pitched."
"Doc" White, the great left-handed pitcher of
Notf. : The various diagrams and figures are all greatly exaggerated in drawing, to make them easily understood. Of course, no " spit " ball,
for instance, "breaks" from a player's shoulders to his knees within a few feet of the distance traveled, but it has been so drawn here to show
plainly a "spit" ball's behavior.
The plate in the diamond diagrams has been drawn as a rectangle instead of a five-sided and pointed figure (which it actually is) to avoid
confusion in tracing the path of the ball over it.
The balls in all the figures have been drawn much too large in proportion, in order to make their direction of revolution perfectly plain to the
reader, who will clearly understand this exaggeration and the reason for it.
( To be continued. )
the Chicago White Sox, told the writer : "This
ball slips off the fingers and thumb together, and
because the fingers are slippery from being moist-
ened, the ball has practically no revolution at all.
It differs entirely from a 'floater' because it is
thrown with great force. And some people never
can get a spit ball to 'break' for them, and others
can't get it to 'break' on certain days. When I
pitched in the city of Mexico, which is eight thou-
sand feet up and where the air is thin, I thought
I had lost my curve — I could n't get any of them
to 'break.' But when I got down in New Orleans,
I thought I was getting younger — I had all kinds
of curves in that damp and heavy air !"
Since the advent of this form of pitching, many
pitchers have become proficient in its use, notably
Walsh, of the White Sox, in whose hands it is a
wonderful delivery. And here a curious condition
has arisen. Walsh does n't pitch the moist ball
nearly as often as he seems to ! Batters expect it
from his hands, and are so worried over it, that
he has found it to be a very effective pitching
method to pretend to pitch it and really pitch
something else ! Half the time he is only pretend-
ing. And sometimes he will pitch the ball with
a side-arm instead of overhead motion, when it
will break "out" instead of down, in a most
puzzling way. This ball requires great strength
of arm to pitch well, and many pitchers think it
injures their arms to use it. But how, then, does
it happen that it is so successfully used by so
many pitchers who do not seem to suffer from
its employment ?
The second part of this article on pitching, to
be published next month, will contain some hints
as to the way you, a lad, can learn to curve balls ;
the way you, not yet at your full growth, can
learn "finger magic" without injury to your arm;
the way you can do something, at least, of what
the Big-League pitcher does. Meanwhile, by
way of caution, take this to heart : never throw a
ball which hurts you to throw, or throw a curve
until your arm is warm, and don't try to master
all the curves at once. If, between the time you
read this and the next half of this account of the
art of pitching, you have mastered the difference
between a straight ball (which is your natural
throw) and the out-curve (which is the easiest
and most natural curve), you will have cause to
congratulate yourself on your progress.
"Make haste slowly" is a good motto.
THE LADY OF THE LANE
BY FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT
Author of " The Forest Castaways "
Chapter XIII
A GUEST FOR SUPPER
Elizabeth proved herself gifted by nature with
three essentials of a good tennis-player— quick-
ness of thought, quickness of eye, and quickness
of movement. It remained for her to make her
racket obedient to these faculties. This was a
matter largely of practice, but, if she had not had
such a good coach as Nance, she might, in the
meanwhile, have acquired faults that would have
taken her long to correct. Like most girls, Nance
had learned the game in a haphazard fashion, and
had only seen her mistakes after she had pro-
gressed to a point where they made all the dif-
ference between an exceedingly good player and
a merely fair player. By that time, they had be-
come so fixed as to be extremely difficult to over-
come. From the first, Nance insisted that Eliza-
beth play very carefully, even though the result
made a game more like battledore and shuttle-
cock than tennis.
"It 's very poky," protested Elizabeth, who
longed to hit the ball as hard as she could.
"I know it," Nance agreed. "But it 's the only
way to learn. In a game I generally feel the way
you do, and pay for it by getting beaten. Miss
Winthrop knew this, and just waited for me to
beat myself."
"Does n't she play good tennis?" asked Eliza-
beth, in some surprise that Nance should put this
forward as an excuse for her defeat.
"Indeed she does !" Nance replied quickly.
"It 's good tennis to take advantage of your op-
ponent's weakness."
"I thought you played a better game than she
did in the tournament," said Elizabeth.
"At times I did," laughed Nance. "But that
is n't what counts. It 's better to play a good
game all the time than a brilliant game part of
the time."
"I don't believe it 's as much fun though,"
Elizabeth declared.
"In the end it is," answered Nance. "It 's
steadiness that wins, and winning is part of the
fun, anyhow."
Day after day they used the court at "The
Towers," and, for three weeks, Nance insisted
upon making the play as slow as it was possible
to make it and keep the ball moving. She allowed
Elizabeth to attempt nothing but straight shots.
"For," she explained, "the first thing to make
sure of is that your return lands in the court.
The fastest and prettiest stroke in the world
won't count you a point, if it goes out of bounds."
But, even using no speed, Nance was able to
keep Elizabeth running about the court in a way
that gave her plenty of exercise. And though, at
first, this practice seemed dull to Nance herself,
she discovered before long that it was proving
just as valuable to her as to her pupil.
In this way Elizabeth became thoroughly lim-
bered up, and learned to keep her eye on the ball,
and to move her racket almost unconsciously.
The little she had played the year before helped
her in this.
The next step added both interest and excite-
ment to the game, without increasing the speed
of the ball ; Nance instructed Elizabeth to do as
she herself had been doing all along, and to at-
tempt place shots.
"You ought to know just where every ball is
going when you strike it, and just why you want
it to go there," explained Nance. "But you
must n't forget your first lesson while you are
trying this. Remember, the thing that always
counts is to have the ball land somewhere in the
court. It gives you one more chance."
To emphasize the value of placing, Nance at
first stood still at the end of each play until the
ball on the return struck the ground. This gave
Elizabeth an opportunity to see just how far out
of reach of her opponent she succeeded in driv-
ing it. It taught her, furthermore, to look for
open spaces and to keep Nance on the move.
This continued for another three weeks, and
then Nance allowed more speed.
"Hit the ball a little harder, Beth," said Nance ;
"but don't try any cuts for the present. A hard,
straight ball, well placed and sure, is better than a
hundred fancy strokes that go wild. Miss Win-
throp taught me that, though I ought to have
known it before."
By the first of August, the two girls were play-
ing a game that was really interesting to watch.
It was straight, heady tennis, with some speed
and few faults. Every point was contested as
much with the brain as the arm, and, though
Nance, of course, was still beating Elizabeth, she
found it necessary to work harder every day.
But the thing that made it interesting, after all,
was Elizabeth's intense earnestness. Some new
THE LADY OF THE LANE
735
quality had been roused in her which gave her
not only eagerness but patience. From the be-
ginning of every game to the end, she played
each point as hard and as conscientiously as pos-
sible. She never flagged. The last game of the
last set called forth as much in her as the first
game. More, perhaps, for it nettled her to think
she was not yet able to press Nance to her best.
"You keep on playing better all the time,"
laughed Elizabeth, at the end of one hard-fought
set.
"You make me," Nance replied quietly. "But,
even if I beat you, I 'd rather play with you than
any one I know."
"Now, Nance !"
"Honestly. I have to use my head more."
The compliment pleased Elizabeth, and she
knew it was sincere. Nance was as outspoken as
a boy, especially in the matter of tennis.
"And I love to play with you, but I can't help
wanting to beat you, Nance," Elizabeth answered
with equal frankness.
"I think you will, in the end," Nance answered.
"But, if you do, you '11 make me play my hardest."
"And it 's playing hard that makes it fun,"
added Elizabeth, with her lips firmly together.
But, if Elizabeth was catching up with Nance
on the tennis-court, Nance had the satisfaction of
seeing herself catch up with Elizabeth in the
kitchen. It added to the interest of both girls to
work together, and, under the able tutoring of
Mrs. Trumbull, they advanced rapidly. Mrs,
Trumbull had much the same idea about learning
to cook that Nance had about learning to play
tennis.
"Learn the plain, simple things first," she said*
"After that there 's time enough to fool round
with folderols. Beth's mother made the best
bread I ever ate. A man won't starve to death
if he has good bread."
At first, Nance found it impossible to work up
very much enthusiasm over this new acquirement.
Only a sense of duty, and Elizabeth's eagerness,
saved the task from drudgery. That was all it
had ever been considered at home, where the con-
stant worry over securing and satisfying a good
cook made housekeeping a real burden. But, at
the end of a few weeks, Nance imbibed a new
spirit here in the house by the lane. The kitchen
was not so much a feature of housekeeping as it
was of home-making. This was equally true of
the other necessary duties. The result was the
creation of so intimate and personal an atmo-
sphere under this roof that the presence of a ser-
vant would have seemed almost like an intrusion.
From cellar to garret, this was Elizabeth's house
—as much a part of her as she was a part of it.
Though Nance, of course, did not have an
equally personal interest in the house, she found
herself in a very short time sharing, to a large
extent, Elizabeth's enthusiasm. Mrs. Trumbull
made her feel that, as a woman, she would be
called upon, some day, to direct a household, and
that it would then be to her honor that she was
prepared.
"A man is n't a man who can't handle tools and
animals !" Mrs. Trumbull exclaimed one day, as
the conversation drifted back to what boys used
to know in the old days. "No, sir, not if he 's
president of a bank ! And a woman is n't a wo-
man who can't take care of a house— not if she 's
the wife of a bank president. A woman can be
whatever she likes after she knows how to sew
and cook and make a home ; but she 's got to
know that first to be a woman."
"But a great many of them don't know how to
do those things," laughed Nance-.
"I 've learned that since I came up here," Mrs.
Trumbull answered. "And I 've no patience with
that kind ! They are as helpless as kittens when
the cook leaves, and of about as much use."
"All girls don't have the chance to learn that
Beth has had," answered Nance.
"If I 'd had my own way, I would n't have had
the chance," laughed Elizabeth. "You don't know
how I hated to come down here."
"You were different then, Beth," answered
Nance.
"So were you," replied Elizabeth.
That evening after Nance had gone, Mrs.
Trumbull observed :
"I wish every one of your friends could live
here a while with you."
"Even the Brookfield girls?" asked Elizabeth.
"Well, it would do them good," declared Mrs.
Trumbull ; "but I must say I 'd hate to be around."
"There 's Daddy," began Elizabeth, with a
little break in her voice, and a wistful look
toward "The Towers."
"It would do him more good than any one,"
Mrs. Trumbull affirmed.
"But he won't come."
Mrs. Trumbull placed her hand affectionately
on the girl's shoulder.
"There, child, there !" she said. "Don't worry
about him. It takes time to change a man as set
in his ways as he is."
But it happened that this very evening, as they
were sitting down to supper, there was a rap at
the front door. Elizabeth answered it, and found
her father there. She threw her arms about his
neck.
"Oh, Daddy, but I 'm glad to see you !" she
cried. "You don't know how very glad I am !"
736
THE LADY OF THE LANE
[June,
He softly smoothed back her hair without
speaking.
"We were just sitting down to supper. You '11
stay, Daddy?"
"I 'm afraid not," he answered, "I just stopped
to see you for a moment. I have a great deal to
do to-night."
But, seizing his hand, Elizabeth drew him into
the dining-room. The table looked very dainty,
and the simple repast very tempting. Before he
had time to protest further, she had run about
and brought a chair to the table, and set a place
for him. The next thing he knew, he found him-
self seated.
"You 're getting as tanned as though you had
been at the sea-shore," commented Mr. Churchill,
as Elizabeth handed him his tea.
"Why should n't she?" challenged Mrs. Trum-
bull. "Every one around here seems to think
there is n't any sun or blue sky at home. They
act as though they did n't dare breath fresh air
unless they pack up and go off a hundred miles.
Lors ! if you could see Beth racing round that
tennis-court every day !"
"You 've taken up tennis again ?" asked Mr.
Churchill.
"Nance and I," nodded Elizabeth, who was dis-
appointed that Mrs. Trumbull had divulged the
secret. She had planned to surprise her father
in the fall, as well as her school friends.
"That 's fine !" he exclaimed enthusiastically.
"It 's Nance that makes it fine," said Elizabeth.
"Oh, Daddy, she 's been awfully good !"
"It 's six of one and half a dozen of the other,"
Mrs. Trumbull broke in. "But I must say Nance
is a nice girl."
"I rather think all girls are nice when you get
at them," smiled Mr. Churchill. "You look very
homelike here, Beth."
"You think so, Daddy?"
That he did, he proved to her satisfaction, by
the way he enjoyed his supper, and by staying
until nearly nine o'clock. Even then he left re-
luctantly, and with many backward glances as
Elizabeth stood at the door and watched him out
of sight.
Chapter XIV
AN ACQUAINTANCE REAPPEARS
With every hour of every day occupied, the
month of August sped by like a single week.
"I don't see where the time goes !" Elizabeth
exclaimed to Mrs. Trumbull, as the latter an-
nounced at breakfast that it was the first day of
September.
"I wonder about that twice every year ; once in
the fall, once in the spring," said Mrs. Trumbull.
"I wonder about it every day," laughed Eliza-
beth. "I wish there was a year between now and
next month."
"What happens then?"
"Nance goes back to school on the twentieth."
"You need n't look so sorrowful about that,"
Mrs. Trumbull said gently. "That is n't the end
of her, is it?"
"No, only — well, I suppose it will give me more
time for my French," said Elizabeth, grasping at
the only consolation she could think of at the
moment.
"And preservin' time will be here afore we
know it," added Mrs. Trumbull.
"Preserving time?" questioned Elizabeth, not
understanding.
"We ought to make some jelly and pickles, and
put up some plums and grapes and quinces."
"I thought you bought those things all put up,"
said Elizabeth.
"Maybe some folks do, but I don't," answered
Mrs. Trumbull. "What do you want to buy them
for when the things are growin' all around you?"
"I don't know," answered Elizabeth, "only most
people do."
"Most people are plumb lazy !" snapped Mrs.
Trumbull. "No, sir ! we '11 have our shelves full
before snow flies. I know your father has n't
had anything of the kind for fifteen years."
"We can have them for Thanksgiving !" ex-
claimed Elizabeth.
Mrs. Trumbull nodded.
"It 's time we were beginning now. Perhaps
we can get around to it by next week."
"We might keep that to do for the week after,"
suggested Elizabeth. "I '11 want a lot to do then."
"There 's plenty to do all the time, if you do
things right," said Mrs. Trumbull.
There was certainly plenty to do on this, the
first day in the month, for Elizabeth, in the morn-
ing, tidied up the whole lower floor of the house,
and finished the forenoon by making a cake. Im-
mediately after luncheon, Mademoiselle Gagnon
came for an hour, as she did three times a
week. She had scarcely gone before Nance ap-
peared.
Elizabeth played an unusually good game that
day, pressing Nance to her best and winning the
first set by six four. It was the first time she
had ever won against Nance.
"I told you I 'd beat you !" she exclaimed en-
thusiastically. "And oh, Nance, I 've done it !
I 've done it !"
In her excited joy she gave a step or two that
resembled an Indian war-dance. But Nance was
looking serious.
"That 's only one set," she answered soberly.
igi2.]
THE LADY OF THE LANE
737
"I know it, but think of winning even one set
from you !" cried Elizabeth.
"It won't count unless you win the second," re-
plied Nance.
The latter was seated on the wooden bench by
the side-lines, nervously tapping her foot with
her racket, anxious to begin again. She was
really disturbed, for she always felt keenly every
It was Nance's serve, and she shot a fast ball
over the net that completely baffled Elizabeth.
Changing to the other court, she repeated the
feat, making it thirty love. The third time she
tried, she served twice into the net, but succeeded
on the fourth attempt in making the score forty
fifteen.
By this time the smile had left Elizabeth's face.
"SEIZING HIS HAND, ELIZABETH DREW HIM INTO THE DINING-ROOM." (SEE PAGE 736.)
defeat. She was a girl who could be more gener-
ous to a defeated opponent than to a victorious
one. In this case, remembering how short a time
ago it was that Elizabeth could play scarcely at
all, the defeat was particularly humiliating.
Elizabeth danced to her side and placed an arm
about her.
"You don't mind if I 'm glad, Nance?" she
asked.
"No," answered Nance ; "but I 'm going to do
my best to beat you this next set."
"Then come on !" cried Elizabeth, flushed with
victory. "I '11 try hard, but with no hard feeling !"
Vol. XXXIX.-93.
Her lips became firm, and she held herself alert.
She stood back farther for the next serve, and
succeeded in returning it. Nance swooped down
upon the ball, and, attempting to drive it at full
speed, drove it into the net. A moment later she
made a double fault; and now with the score at
deuce, Elizabeth again returned the serve and ran
up to the net. Nance lobbed the ball, but Eliza-
beth recovered it and sent it back very deliber-
ately along the side-lines for the advantage.
Once again Nance attempted to win on the serve,
and, putting her full strength into the strokes,
shot two fast balls into the net, and lost the game.
738
THE LADY OF THE LANE
[June,
She was by now thoroughly aroused, and waited
eagerly for Elizabeth's straight serving in order
to recoup. But, though Elizabeth attempted
neither cut nor curve, there was considerable
speed in her serve, and much precision. She
varied the serve to the right and left of the court
with an occasional slow ball that was extremely
irritating. It dropped lightly over the net, and
was very difficult to return for one who was wait-
ing far back for a swift ball. It bounced low, and
Nance, if she reached it, was pretty sure to re-
turn it out of bounds, because of her impetuosity.
■In the process, she not only lost her point, but
more and more of her self-control. In this way,
Elizabeth actually won the second game. This
gave her such self-confidence that in the third
game, where Nance steadied down a little, she
lost only by a single point, and this was con-
tested back and forth in a hard-fought rally.
"Good, Nance !" exclaimed Elizabeth, as her
opponent finally succeeded in passing her.
A gentle handclapping came from the side-
lines, and she looked around to see there a light-
haired young man, whom, at first, she did not
recognize. He stepped forward.
"I beg pardon," he said with a smile. "May I
interrupt the game long enough to inquire if you
have completely recovered?"
"Recovered?" stammered Elizabeth.
"It 's rather a foolish question, is n't it?" he
faltered, as he noted her red cheeks. "I should
have called before if I had not been away."
It was not until then that Elizabeth brought to
mind all the episode of the frightened horses at
the country club.
"Oh ! Mr. Crawford !" she laughed, extending
her hand. "I remember now. But I was n't hurt
at all."
He still looked so solicitous that, for a moment,
Elizabeth felt concerned that she had received no
injury worthy of his anxiety. There was some-
thing foreign in his deferential courtesy and in
the slight stoop of his shoulders.
"I am very glad," he answered. "I was n't told
that the horses were afraid of automobiles."
Elizabeth introduced the new-comer to Nance.
"I must n't interrupt your game," he apologized,
with a bow.
"Our games are never finished," answered
Elizabeth. "Will you not come to the house and
meet Mrs. Trumbull?"
He hesitated.
"My house is just below here," she said, point-
ing to the house by the lane.
He glanced in that direction with some sur-
prise. A bed of many-colored zinnias lent a
touch of color to the quiet gray of the house,
while the rose vine over the porch made it stand
out like a cool oasis among the formal houses to
be seen beyond.
"May I?" he asked.
Elizabeth led the way across the fields, and, as
she saw him still studying the cottage, she said :
"It 's a very old place. It was my mother's."
"Then I should n't call that very old," he an-
swered.
"It must be twenty-five years old, at least."
"Oh !" he exclaimed in surprise. "You don't
call that old— really?"
"What would you call old?"
"Why— five hundred years," he answered.
"But the Pilgrims had n't come over then, so a
house could n't be that old !" she exclaimed.
"I did n't think of that," he answered with a
smile.
Mrs. Trumbull was somewhat surprised to see
the girls returning with a stranger, but, as soon
as Elizabeth explained, the good lady greeted the
lad cordially.
"Beth never told me a word about that scrape,"
said Mrs. Trumbull. "I s'pose she misses death
by a hair a dozen times a day that I don't know
anything about. It all comes of having those
fool automobiles round loose."
"I like horses better myself," answered Craw-
ford.
"Then you must have been brought up in the
country," declared Mrs. Trumbull.
"I was," he admitted.
The girls excused themselves for a few mo-
ments to put their hair in order after their exer-
cise; but Mrs. Trumbull, with her old-fashioned
and informal hospitality to the guest who "hap-
pens in," insisted that he should remain and share
with them the lemonade and cake which she al-
ways had ready for the girls after the game. He
watched her with interest as she made her prep-
arations.
"You don't happen to be a State of Maine boy,
do you?" she asked, with good-natured curiosity.
"No," he answered.
"Vermont, perhaps?"
"No," he answered. "I 'm an Englishman."
"An Englishman!" she exclaimed in astonish-
ment.
"Yes," he nodded. "I came over here for the
summer, to see something of America. I 'm
going back to-morrow."
"Well, well, well !" she murmured, quite con-
fused for the moment over this revelation. "Then
you visited Maine ?"
He shook his head.
"I spent most of my time in New York and
Chicago, and the rest of it on trains."
IQI2.]
THE LADY OF THE LANE
739
"Land alive !" she protested, "do you call that
seeing America !"
"I don't know," he replied wearily. "At any
rate, I can't say that I 'm keen about what I saw.
It all seems so new." '
He gave a quick glance around the room.
"Do you know," he added impulsively, "I like
it here better than any place I 've been."
"Well, I reckon this is better than some places,
anyhow," she answered proudly. "And it 's all
'MRS. TRUMBULL WAS SURPRISED IO SEE THE GIRLS RETURNING
WITH A STRANGER."
due to Beth. She likes it better than 'The Tow-
ers,' though she 's lived here only a few months."
"It seems very homelike," he said, boyishly.
"I suppose that 's because I found most of my
friends living in houses like hotels."
"Like the big house yonder?" she asked.
"Yes," he laughed, "I was afraid, at first, that
Miss Churchill lived there."
"No, siree !" answered Mrs. Trumbull. "She
lives right here."
At this point Beth and Nance returned, and the
conversation became more general. They talked
of tennis, and found that Crawford played.
"You must come out some day and have a set
with Nance," said Elizabeth.
"With Beth," Nance corrected. "You saved
me from being defeated to-day, Mr. Crawford."
"No," laughed Elizabeth, "you saved her from
beating herself."
"I 'd like to play with both of you," he assured
them, "only I 'm afraid I can't. You see, I sail
to-morrow."
"Back to England, where he lives," put in Mrs.
Trumbull, a little proud of having already
learned the fact.
"Then that 's why you did n't think the house
was very old !" exclaimed Elizabeth.
"It really does n't seem very old
compared with buildings that have
been standing for four or five hun-
dred years, does it?" he asked.
"Five hundred years !" exclaimed
Mrs. Trumbull. "I must say that I
should n't want to undertake keep-
ing a house neat which was that
old. Would you, Beth?"
Mr. Crawford laughed.
"You must come over
sometime and see how
we do it. You have vis-
ited England ?"
"Once," answered Eliz-
abeth ; "but it seems as
though we were either
in hotels or trains most
of the time."
"I know, I know," he
replied quickly. "That 's
the trouble with visiting
other countries, I fancy.
But when you come
again — will you let me
show you another side
of it?"
"Thankyou," answered
Elizabeth,
can have our game over
there," he added with a smile.
It was almost supper-time before he rose to go,
and then it was with evident reluctance. This
was one of those quick friendships which seem to
cover months in a few hours. He left, promising
to write, and exacting a promise from Mrs.
Trumbull that if she ever visited England, she
would let him know.
"But," she assured him, "I 'm too set, at my
age, to go skylarkin' around the world."
So, in a single afternoon, the young stranger
came and went. But as Mrs. Trumbull said to
Elizabeth and Nance, who were eagerly discuss-
ing who he might be, "he 's the kind of lad that
makes you feel that you are bound to see him
aarain."
"And perhaps we
( To be continued. )
CHILDREN'S ROOM FULL — WAITING TO GET INSIDE. TOMPKINS SQUARE LIBRARY, NEW YORK. CITY.
THE "BOOK LINE"
BY MONTROSE J. MOSES
They trail through the alley and mart
To this Palace of Tomes —
Wee urchins, red-hatted and swart
As their underworld gnomes,
And hundreds of quaint little maids
Wearing ribands of green
Or scarlet on duplicate braids,
Quick-eyed, orderly, clean,
And silent. Some take from the shelves
Of the volumes a-row
Those legends of goblins and elves
That we loved long ago ;
Yet more choose the stories of men
Whom a nation reveres —
Of Lincoln and Washington ; then
Of the bold pioneers
Who plowed in a blood-sprinkled sod,
Whose strong hands caused to rise
That Temple which these, under God,
Vet shall rear to the skies !
Arthur Guiterman.
A decrepit book, like a fire-engine horse too old
to pull the truck, like a faithful "mount" of the
traffic police put out of service, is a book too old
to circulate. There used to be a time in the lives
of boys and girls when they had to rummage
about for themselves among musty books for
something to read, and to find fairy tales in the
midst of ponderous tomes was like finding a
sweet rose in the forest primeval. More often
would the time be spent in looking over some
startling pictures in the books for grown people,
pictures that one would remember for years
after, just as Charles Lamb remembered the
Stackhouse Bible, or Coleridge the bulgy panta-
loons of the queer gentlemen in "The Arabian
Nights."
The American boy and girl had often to rum-
mage in the same way. "The New England
Primer" was their chief delight, and we are told
that the reason this little book is so rare to-day is
because of its great popularity and its constant
use in the past. But the older children read
things far beyond their years ; Shakspere, Milton,
Dryden, Pope, were John Marshall's chief relish
before he was twelve; and nearly all boys were
well versed in the classics. But by those who
were not so fortunate as to be near a library,
books were had only after a tramp of miles, and
then they did not ask for the kind of books most
boys and girls ask for to-day. Lincoln borrowed
"Tisop's Fables," Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress,"
and "Robinson Crusoe" ; he read the dictionary
740
THE "BOOK LINE"
741
page by page ; he pored over the statutes of
Indiana. He was ravenous to read, but there
was no library near him.
Now all this has changed ; perhaps in no period
of the world's history is there better opportunity
for girls and boys to have all the books they want.
In most libraries to-day there are special rooms
for them in which all manner of good reading is
spread upon the shelves. There are nearly fif-
teen thousand places in New York alone where
books may be had free of charge. There is
hardly a home of a boy or girl in the city more
than a mile away from a library; and if, by
chance, in certain sections of a crowded city, the
children do not belong to a library, then clubs
are formed and boxes of books are sent to them,
and distributed in the afternoon from one of the
member's homes.
One day, in the vestibule of a children's li-
brary, I noticed a bench. A row of boys and
girls sat upon it, and I wondered what they were
doing. They were busy watching the eager
crowd inside ; from their position they saw a line
of readers drawing out books, another line re-
turning them. It was a busy room — a boy in a
corner looking over a college story, a girl in
another lost in some adventure. Any question
they might ask was answered by the librarian,
whose special duty is to know the books and
to tell which are best to read. If a boy wants
some sea stories, she mentions a whole list; if
a girl is anxious for a summer tale, she can
name two or three good ones. This is what the
"benchers" saw, and it was all this that decided
them to join the library later.
A ROOF READING-ROOM. R1VINGT0N STREET BRANCH
OF THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY.
The general idea seems to be that a library is,
on the one hand, a kind of storehouse for books,
and, on the other, a place from which books may
be drawn. But this is only one part of what a
library means. It is also a room in which one
may sit and read, and that is a great thing in the
lives of boys and girls who have no such luxury
at home ; it is a place in which one should culti-
vate the habit of good reading, in which to have
a good time with a book means to enter heartily
THE CHILDREN'S ROOMS IN THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY.
742
THE "BOOK LINE"
[June,
CHILDREN S LIBRARY, PRATT INSTITUTE, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
into the story, to relish the strength of adventure,
to lose one's self in the realm of fancy, and to
become friends with Puck and Robin Hood.
In the children's room there are not simply
stacks and stacks of books; it is a playground
for minds and hearts ; you may make merry over
a book, — you may sport by forest and stream;
you may shout with the legions of advancing
armies ; you may win a foot-ball game or a tennis
match — all within the compass of a window-seat,
and without uttering a word.
There are some children's rooms in which
ingle-benches are built on either side of large
fireplaces; here in winter-time big logs send
flames leaping up the chimney, while the librarian
gathers around her as many boys and girls as
may be comfortably warmed by the blaze, and
tells a story, just as at home some of us have
been brought up to expect the story hour in the
twilight.
This story hour in the library is a splendid
treat. In Pittsburg the children flock so eagerly
to the different libraries that only three hundred
in an afternoon can be cared for at one branch.
Norse vikings, Greek heroes, myths, and legends
are talked of, and afterward there are books at
hand in which the same stories may be read. A
Cleveland library has an interesting mantelpiece
with tiles around it, a picture on each square
representing some special tale or fable. This in
itself means a separate story for every tile, and
if the librarian has told one story and there is
yet time for another, a girl or boy from the
group volunteers to be the narrator. And some-
times these boys and girls are the best of story-
tellers, for there is special joy in making others
feel the same interest, the same excitement, the
same sympathy, you yourself have felt over a hero
or a deed.
A bench before a fireplace gives one a feeling
of coziness, whether the opening be aglow with
flame, or a mass of green or of dogwood. Usually
the walls and ceiling of the room are warm in
color, and by degrees the libraries are being
decorated with pictures which are full of images
one must love as well as know. The libraries are
thus making homes for young readers, to whom a
book is something real. Take the comic supple-
ment of a paper, and put it by the side of the
Jeanne d'Arc pictures by Boutet de Monvel. You
will feel the difference.
In the Boston Library the children's reference-
room contains a fine ceiling decoration called
"The Triumph of Time," while for the reading-
room the late Howard Pyle painted eighteen
water-colors dealing with incidents in the career
Igi2.]
THE "BOOK LINE"
743
CENTRAL CHILDREN S ROOM, CARNEGIE LIBRARY, PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA.
of Washington, and with characteristics of colo-
nial life.
The children's department in the Pittsburg
Library consists of three rooms — one for study,
one for reference and reading, and one for gen-
eral circulation. The first object you are sure
to notice as you enter is a drinking-fountain,
which sends a thin stream of water into the
mouth of any youngster who presses the silver
top. This in itself is great fun, as the picture on
another page will show. But no sooner does
one go beyond the librarian's desk, into the spa-
cious room, with its low book-shelves filled with
inviting books, than there is a different sort of
thirst to satisfy— the thirst for something good
to read. There are legions of fairy tales, bat-
talions of nature books, companies of stories
ranged within easy reach ; it is simple to find
what you want in this way, or to refer to the
card catalogue, which every one should learn to
use. If you will look at the cards under Alcott,
Barbour, Henty, and such authors, the worn con-
dition of the edges will tell you how popular their
books are with boys and girls.
"This way to the Mall" is a sign in Central
Park, and in the same way a picture bulletin in
the library is a sign-board which gives you a list
of interesting books, the books being placed just
below the bulletin-board to look at. What boy
would not like to know something of airships ?
What young naturalist would not stop to examine
some illustrated volumes on birds, flowers, and
butterflies? The library is a place where all
tastes are satisfied in some way, in all seasons.
But it is often the case that readers like stories
which later they dislike, because they have had
so much of a kind. One girl asked a librarian if
she had any "weepy" stories, and was told, "Yes,
five of them." "However," said the librarian, "if
you read one, promise me you '11 read the other
four." By the time she had finished the third,
she began to grow weary, and never again, after
she had completed the fifth, did she pledge her-
self to one kind of story alone. After the first
few volumes of a series, do we not begin to want
a change ?
A Russian boy, whose whole love was wrapped
up in his violin, searched one day for some music
at the library, but only found a volume of short
pieces for the piano. "If you had books for the
violin," he wrote the librarian, "I would play
them over and over again." Such a request is
easily satisfied, for the chief object of books is
to give joy, and the library welcomes a healthy
desire. Of course we turn to some volumes for
facts, but there are many young readers who
744
THE "BOOK LINE"
[June,
throw a book aside merely because on looking
through the pages they do not see "conversa-
tion." Perhaps they have a wrong idea about a
type of book which the librarian and the teacher
have spoken of as "non-fiction." A girl once
A HOMELIKE CORNER IN A CHILDREN'S LIBRARY.
read "The Scottish Chiefs," by Jane Porter. "I
suppose you would call it non-fiction," she said,
"because it is full of historic facts, but I found
the story splendid," which proves that the worth
of any book — fiction or non-fiction — is in the
reading.
But the children's rooms are not used by chil-
dren alone. A boy once drew out a simplified
"Robinson Crusoe" and came back with it the
same afternoon. "I want a harder 'Robinson
Crusoe,' " he said, and the librarian found out
that his father was learning English, and that the
son was helping him. Indeed, among the foreign
people, the grown-up members of a family gener-
ally depend upon the children tor stories. An-
other Russian boy I have heard of used to take an
English book and translate as he read aloud to
his father and mother. Still another, who had
attended a story-hour course one winter, where
the tales of Shakspere were being told, would
hasten home each time and report them carefully
to his family.
The Museum of Natural History in New York
has done great service in lending to the different
children's rooms special exhibits which do more
than illustrations to whet one's interest in man-
ners, customs, and dwellings of strange people
and strange animals. On Staten Island an arctic
exhibit drew crowds of children, to whom Peary
among the ice-floes of the North was like the
heroes of ancient times. There were "story hours,"
explanations of the snow-shoes, blankets, and
other strange details hung on the walls, and then
a story. In the children's room of the Medford
(Mass.) Library, a beehive was placed for a
while, and a hole pierced through the window-
glass so that the bees might go in and out. Every
one could watch the comb being built and see the
bees fed on sugar and water when winter came.
But the museum exhibit, the bees, the bulle-
tins, the book lists, the talks, would be of no use
in the library if they did not result in the boys
and girls reading books which relate to the sub-
jects. That is why librarians are only too glad
to receive suggestions from the members of the
library, and I have often thought, on looking
through the St. Nicholas League each month,
how much the young artists, writers, poets, could
do for the librarian if they would tell of those
things which most please them in the children's
rooms, or would suggest what they wanted most
to see there ; if they would draw bulletins con-
taining their own welcome ideas, and make lists
of books they specially recommend to other read-
ers of their age.
Where there is a library, there is always a
school near by, and the relation between the two
is close. Not only do the classes draw books,
but they also go in groups to the children's room,
where they are shown how to use reference
books, how to find quickly what they want, for
besides catalogues there are magazine indexes,
cyclopedias, and dictionaries, which are useful
only to those who understand the machinery of
their contents. But besides the training in the
use of reference works, there is the delight of
reading for the mere entertainment, and in New
York I have seen groups of girls listening in
deep interest while a librarian talked to them of
the books she had read when she was their age,
giving to each an introduction to stories which
1912.]
THE "BOOK LINE"
745
they ought to know, not because they were in-
forming, but because they were good and added
to her love of life, to her understanding of the
ways of people. A young critic was once asked
to give her opinion of "Little Women," and said :
"There is n't anything in the book that I don't
like," a hearty indorsement which not every
author can have.
Reading clubs dot the city of Cleveland ; they
are generally formed in connection with the
children's reading-room, and they are sometimes
the beginning of a children's library in a new
neighborhood. Those girls I mentioned above
went away fully determined to band themselves
together, keeping notes on what they read, not
with any artificial or forced feeling, but with
enthusiasm over something they might enjoy.
For, however far from fact a book may be, it
should in some way add to our growth, by en-
riching our fancy, our imagination, our charac-
ter, our experience, else it had best never have
been written. In the case of boys, interest in a
subject usually results in debates, which any li-
brary-club leader is glad to organize and to aid
in the required research and reading.
Can vou imagine six million five hundred thou-
number two million one hundred and seventy-five
thousand were taken bv children. That means
N0R$E$T$RO
■K
EVERY FRIDAY
AT rOUROCLOCK. L
A bTUJiV-HOUK BULLETIN'.
a large amount of reading only in one direction,
for there are besides traveling libraries that try
to reach rural districts, just as the rural free
delivery now tries to reach every isolated neigh-
borhood with the mail.
One must remember also that there are many
children of foreign birth, who, when they or
CHILDREN S ROOM, BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY.
sand books strung in a row? The line would
represent the number of books read by New
York City people during 1908, as they were
drawn from the regular library buildings ; of this
Vol. XXXI X. -94.
their parents came to America, left behind them
a rich store of folk-tales, which the children
should never be allowed to forget. In large cities
there are foreign quarters, and the libraries are
746
THE "BOOK LINE"
trying to have stories told in the native tongue to
the Italians, Slavs, Bohemians, and Russians. A
foreigner, even though he wishes to become an
American, a good citizen, need not forget that he
has had something given to him out of the past
THE DRINK1NG-FOUNTAIN IN THE CENTRAL CHILDREN S
LIBRARY, PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA.
which is part of his speech, his education, and
the way he thinks.
The main idea of a public library is to show in
what way one may reach the best book— the most
interesting book; but the room is being so fitted
up that each girl and boy soon feels a certain
pride in being part of it. In Providence the Chil-
dren's Library Helpers have done much in col-
lecting a special case of books called "A Child's
Own Library," kept behind glass, which not only
represent the children's own personal tastes,
but in many instances are gifts from the mem-
bers.
The chief desire of the children's room is to
create associations, for there are many who
would never have them, were it not for such
story hours, such cozy corners, such decorations,
as are to be found here. I know of two girls
whose whole knowledge of mythology was gained
while taking long walks with their father ; he
never tired of repeating to them the adventures
of the Greek heroes. The story hour is supposed
to take such a place as this father occupied,
among children who otherwise would never have
the dreams of golden deeds to remember.
In a crowded district of Pittsburg, where the
steel-works are, and where the flare of light and
the smoke of furnaces fill the air, there is a
children's reading-room which might well be
called a "bookless library," because of the con-
stant circulation of all the good volumes on the
shelves. One has only to imagine how many
boys and girls handle the books, to realize why
they soon become decrepit and have to be re-
placed by new ones. Speaking of "Hans Brinker,"
"The Age of Fable," and "Little Women," a girl
of thirteen once wrote : "I have read them so
much, I can almost recite them from memory."
But, unlike the feeble fire-horse or the police-
man's "mount," too old for service, a decrepit
book is not past its usefulness. Those books
which are no longer strong enough for vigorous
circulation are sent to the sick-wards of the hos-
pitals for youngsters whose whole days depend
on bright stories and fresh flowers. Then there
are the very, very old books, falling to pieces—
too old, indeed, to do anything with, save to
throw away. These, however, before they are
taken from the library, are gathered together,
and scrap-books made of the illustrations, and
thus to the very last the books of the children's
room are kept in service, and fill their chief pur-
pose of giving readers a good time.
NATURE & SCIENCE ■
FOR YOUNG FOLKS
EDITED BY EDWARD F. BIGELOW (i{
— r1
SWALLOWS CARRYING FEATHERS TO A BIRD-BOX.
The top of the box is hinged.
COOPERATING WITH THE BIRDS
The mere strewing of strings and bits of yarn
about the premises, haphazard, so that the birds
may find and use them in nest-building, is a prac-
tice that I would discourage, because it is not
intelligent cooperation with the birds.
For several years a pair of Baltimore orioles
built in an elm in the yard of a charitable lady
of my acquaintance. One day she, in the kind-
ness of her heart, put out a quantity of yarn for
the birds. They were not long in finding it, nor
in building a large and many-colored nest. All
went happily until the young orioles were well
grown, when the nest began to sag, and one day
the bottom fell out under the weight of the grow-
ing birds, so they fell to the ground and perished.
Common white wrapping-twine or any cord equally
strong, carpet-thread or stout rope ravelings,
in lengths of from two to four feet, and horse-
hair, are the best material for orioles. The qual-
ity of the material for other birds, excepting
vireos, is not so important. For robins strips of
cloth and pieces of wrapping-twine are best. For
house wrens, feathers and horsehair; for tree-
swallows (who readily build in bird-boxes),
feathers and straw ; for warblers, rope ravelings
of cotton and hemp, cotton batting, and raw
wool ; for phoebes, horsehair. The materials
should always be placed in a conspicuous position
where the wind will move them but not blow
them away. Wads of batting may be nailed to a
post or a fence ; horsehair may be wedged in a
splintered post or a fence board or a branch. The
stuff should not be placed too near the nest, I
should say at least a hundred feet from it.
There are several other birds beside those
named above that may be cooperated with in a
similar way, but they are not commonly found
near home ; the king-bird, crested flycatcher,
orchard-oriole, and indigo bunting are a few of
them. One of the illustrations shows a nest that
I helped an indigo bunting to build. The bird
started the work in the edge of a brier patch
about a hundred feet from my tent. I gathered
some wool from the barbed-wire fence of a
sheep pasture a mile away, and hung it with a
few strips of cloth on a wire fence about fifty
yards from the nest. The bird promptly found
these, and with them built the most picturesque
and artistic bunting's nest that I have ever seen.
747
748
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[June,
"THE MATERIALS SHOULD ALWAYS BE PLACED
WHERE THE WIND WILL MOVE THEM BUT
NOT BLOW THEM AWAY."
In addition to the raw material, I furnished a
little delicate "landscape gardening" immediately
about the nest; the bird did the rest.
For the very reason that so much has already
been written about bird-houses, a few additional
words would seem in place here. In the majority
of bird-houses the birds are expected to cooperate
with us. But we should endeavor to take our
ideas from the birds, as far as possible, rather than
expect them to conform to our notions. As a
rule, there should be only a deep hollow with a
small opening near the top, a description that cov-
"A NEST THAT I HELPED AN
TO BUILD."
INDIGO BUNTING
SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR FASTENING BUILDING
MATERIAL FOR NESTS.
The rope should be frayed out more than is here represented.
ers the essentials of a common-sense bird-box.
For bluebirds, wrens, and tree-swallows let the
width be four or five inches, the depth from
twelve to sixteen, and the openings, which should
be round, two inches, one inch, and one and a
quarter inches respectively. The opening in each
should be within two inches of the top. The top
or one side may be on hinges, so that the box
may be inspected and cleaned.
Edmund J. Sawyer.
■v
NO "HOLES IN THE AIR"
Aviators find an unevenness in the air and places
where the machine suddenly drops for a short
distance, and some of them have been claiming
that there are "holes in the air," meaning by that
that there are places where there is no air of
sustaining qualities. The expression, "holes in
the air," is, of course, only figurative, denning
fgt2.j
MATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
W)
the effect noticed but not the cause. If one were
to step into a hole in ice, there would be a sudden
drop on account of lack of support. So the avi-
ators claim that there are places where the aero-
plane drops from lack of air support.
Scientific men prefer not to call these places
"holes in the air." Professor Elihu Thomson
says that, while this sudden drop may be ex-
plained by descending currents of air, such cur-
rents are not by any means so serious as the
"following gust" — or a wind which increases so
fast as to overtake the machine before it can
speed up, assuming that the wind blows in the
same direction as that of the aeroplane. A sud-
denly slackening head wind, which has been hold-
ing the aviator back, may give rise to effects
similar to those of the "following gust." While
the descending current does not prevent control,
the "following gust" and the "slackening head
wind" may destroy all power of control by planes
or rudders, and the aviator falls, as the kite does
with its string cut. For control of an aeroplane
it is absolutely necessary that it be moving fast
enough to push upon the air with its planes and
rudders. It must go fast enough to produce a
strong head wind in the face of the aviator.
When a boy flies a kite, if there is no wind or
an insufficient wind, he must run fast so as to get
the same effect as if a wind was blowing against
the sloping kite surface. When there is a good
wind, he need not run, for the wind itself slides
under the sloping kite and lifts it. If the string
breaks, there is nothing left to hold the kite fac-
ing the wind ; it turns edgewise, and falls in an
irregular course, for it has lost all guidance of
any kind. When the engine stops in an aero-
plane, there is similar danger, for it is the pro-
peller which pushes the machine against the air,
taking the place of the kite-string.
When the engine stops, the aviator is com-
pelled to soar or slide downward in a sloping
course, and so maintain as much as possible the
headway he has and which the engine, when run-
ning, gives him. The "following gust" and
"slackening head wind" really deprive him of
headway against the air, at least for a time, and
put him in imminent danger. If the machine
could pick up speed, as fast as the wind can in a
gust, tbere would be no danger. But, unfortu-
nately, this a beavy machine cannot yet do.
A QUEER PLACE FOR A STONE
In blasting for a road in the Catskills, a big stone
was thrown high in the air and then lodged in a
A STONE THROWN BY A BLAST AND LODGED IN A TREE.
tree, as shown in this photograph, sent to St.
Nicholas by E. K. Anderson of Brooklyn.
JORDAN'S GOBLIN SHARK
A very rare shark, named Scapanorhynchus jor-
dani by the scientists, was discovered in the deep
sea, off the coast of Japan. Its curious long
"nose," protruding jaws, and small eyes give it an
exceedingly grotesque appearance. Its mouth is
full of sharp, slender, pointed teeth.
There is only one other species of shark like it,
and this also is found off the coast of Japan. In
earlier geologic ages, these sharks were quite
abundant, as is shown by the frequent finds of
their fossil teeth. The largest goblin shark ever
caught was eleven feet long; the species probably
grows to a leneth of fifteen feet.
JORDAN S GOBLIN SHARK HAS A GROTESQUE APPEARANCE.
750
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[June,
THIS TEA-SET WAS MADE FROM CODFISH BONES.
A TEA-SET MADE FROM CODFISH BONES
The photograph here shown is of a tea-set, the
pieces of which were made from the vertebrae —
that is, from the bones that together form the
backbone— of a codfish. After they had been
boiled, they were flexible and easily molded into
any shape. They were then bleached in a solu-
tion of lime chloride, which gave them a peculiar
appearance, like alabaster. The photograph was
sent to us by Miss Florence Meigh, Ash Hall,
Stoke-on-Trent, England.
AN INTELLIGENT CHIMPANZEE
"Susie," a chimpanzee purchased by the New
York Zoological Society, has been attracting
much attention at the park. She manifests a
great amount of intelligence and some apparently
human traits. She sits at the table and eats her
meals in a dignified manner, making a fairly good
use of fork and cup. It is said by the keepers
that, in a week, apes may be taught to behave at
table much like human beings. Susie was ob-
tained in Africa by Professor Richard L. Garner
while on a trip there, during which he was en-
gaged in the study of the habits of the gorilla
and the chimpanzee. When first captured, she
was too young to walk, and was fed on milk and
fruit juices. From the very first, her owner
sought to teach her how to distinguish geomet-
ric forms, such as the cube, cylinder, cone,
sphere, square, circle, and rhomb. He also
showed that the great apes are not color-blind,
because he arranged a series of movable flaps of
such colors as green, yellow, blue, and red, and
Susie soon learned to lift the different flaps at the
word. She also learned to pick out the different
geometric forms, and to pick up objects to the
number of one, two, or three at command.
'SUSIE AT HEK bTUDY TABLE.
igi2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
751
THE RAREST LIVING ANIMAL
This is a photograph of a part of the rarest kind
of animal in the world, rarer, perhaps, than the
zebra-like okapi of Central Africa. It is the head
THE HEAD OF A WHITE, SQU AKE-MOUTHED RHINOCEROS.
of the gigantic, white, square-mouthed rhinoceros
from the Lado district of the Upper Sudan. It
was shot, in 1910, by Colonel Roosevelt, and pre-
sented by him to the New York Zoological Park,
where it is preserved in the Collection of Heads
and Horns. It is one of the most noted trophies
of Colonel Roosevelt's African hunt.
AN IMPRESSIVE STUDY IN PERSPECTIVE
This picture is a photograph of a tunnel for a
canal near Paw Paw, West Virginia. This tun-
nel is 3130 feet long, 27 feet wide, and 223/2 feet
in height from the ground to the keystone in the
arch. When the canal is full, the water is seven
feet in depth.
Note the white spot, a little smaller than a pin-
head, apparently just above the railing. This is
the opening in the other end of the tunnel, and is
an astonishing example of what the artist calls
diminution by perspective.
The reader is familiar with the fact that the
farther away the object is the smaller it looks
to us. As you have stood by the railroad, you
have observed that the farther you look along the
track the narrower seems the space between the
rails, and the nearer together the rails themselves
appear to be. This is a good example of an opti-
cal illusion. One of the laws of nature here acts
in such a way that our eyes would be deceived,
if we did not correct the illusion by an act of
our intelligence. We have learned by experience
that "seeing is not always believing," and in this
case we know that the rails do not come together
in the distance.
The little white spot in the photograph is an-
other example of an optical illusion. In the pic-
ture, the entrance to the tunnel seems to be 1*4
inches in width, while the white spot is, perhaps,
only the ^2 of an inch, yet the spot is the oppo-
site opening of the tunnel, reduced in size by dis-
tance, as the result of the law of perspective.
A TUNNEL STUDY IN PERSPECTIVE.
The white dot is the farther opening of the tunnel.
752
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[June,
S
^"BECAUSE- WE
"WANT TO KNOW"
PINK ROSES SUCCEEDING RED ON THE SAME BUSH
Worcester, Mass.
Dear St. Nicholas : Last spring, we had a red rambler
rose-bush in our garden. All through April and June
it bore red ramblers, but later, on the same bush on
which the ramblers grew, there were pink rosebuds that
looked like moss-roses. Maybe you can tell me why that
was ; if so, you will oblige
Ruth Whiting.
This was evidently due to the hot, dry weather.
The coloring-matter was not produced as freely
under such circumstances, and, in addition to this,
the great heat of the sun bleaches out the color
that is formed. During a trip last summer among
the rose-growers in Europe, I noticed that, in the
moist and cool climate of England, the roses had
a much darker and richer color than similar roses
had when grown in countries where the air is hot
and dry. I also noticed similar effects in France
and in Germany. It is probable that all your roses
would have been deeply red, if the weather had
been cooler and more moist. — Robert Pyle.
MANUFACTURING A TWELVE-THOUSAND-POUND
CHEESE
Appleton, Wis.
Dear St. Nicholas: Whenever anything is done in an
uncommon way, or better than usual, or on a larger scale,
or with remarkable rapidity, it makes a reputation not
only for the man who does the work, but for the State and
the city in which he lives. This has been plainly shown
by the making of the big cheese by which Appleton has
been so widely advertised.
On the morning of August 15, on all the roads around
Appleton, farmers were traveling, and each was carrying
milk to the dairy factory nearest to him. They had the
milk from eight thousand cows. A big cheese was to be
made. To make it right, the cows were all milked at the
same hour, and the milk was all cooled to the same
temperature. At the dairy factories (there are thirty-two
of them), the milk was turned into vats, and, by rennet
dissolved in sour milk, was changed to curd. The curd
was conveyed from the thirty-two different factories to
Appleton, where thirty-five expert cheese-makers in white
uniforms awaited its arrival.
Here the curd was dumped into seven vats, each with a
capacity of seven hundred gallons, and was allowed to
stand until the separate little flakes became united into one
mass. It was then cut into strips, which were passed
through a mill and chopped into fine pieces. These were
thrown into a mold.
The mold, an iron frame five feet high and five feet in
diameter, was built on an outdoor platform. Four hundred
pounds of cheese-salt were added, and the cheese-makers
stirred vigorously until the mixture was evenly salted. A
thousand-pound cover was fastened on and the press
applied, to force the water from the cheese. It was then
seven o'clock in the evening. The men now left the
cheese, for the first process was complete; but just before
going to bed, they tightened the press. Next day the side
of the huge cheese was rubbed vigorously to keep it from
sweating.
A case was built on the outside leaving a space six inches
in width between it and the rim. Into this space ice was
packed. The cheese was stored in the warehouse to ripen
and to await the time of its shipment to Chicago.
On October 20, another refrigerator was built around
it, and it was sent on a special flat-car to Chicago, where
it was put on view. President Taft, in the presence of a
large crowd, cut the first slice from the cheese at the
National Dairy Exhibition. A Chicago store purchased
the cheese for advertising purposes.
THE SKILLED CHEESE-MAKERS AT THE PRESS AND THE VATS OF CURD.
igi2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
753
When this monstrous cheese, which weighed exactly
twelve thousand, three hundred and sixty-one pounds, was
cut up, it was sold immediately for about fifty cents a
pound.
Large crowds had witnessed the making, and moving
pictures of all the work were taken for the Agricultural
Department of the United States.
To make this great cheese cost about six thousand dollars.
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THE SPECIAL HOOP AND PRESS USED TO FORCE THE
WATER FROM THE CHEESE.
This is eight feet in diameter and five feet high.
This is undoubtedly the biggest cheese ever made. It
was remarkably successful not only in the making, but in
the quality, which was pronounced excellent. It has given
Appleton and Outagamie County great prestige as a dairy
center. Francis Bradford.
SPEEDING AROUND A CURVE
New Haven, Conn.
Dear St. Nicholas : If an automobile tipped when
going around a curve, would it tip toward the inside or
the outside of the curve, and why?
Yours sincerely,
Stanley Daggett.
The automobile will upset toward the outside.
This is a test question of physics in some schools,
and probably a "catch" question elsewhere. For
it is likely that nine out of ten persons would at
once answer that the machine would upset toward
Vol. XXXIX.— 95.
the inside of the curve. And., as we all know,
it is the tendency of a body moving rapidly in a
circle, or the segment of a circle — a curve — to
fly from the center. A horse, or the rider on a
bicycle or motor-cycle, instinctively leans toward
the center to counteract this tendency; and the
builder of a railroad follows the same law when
he constructs his road-bed slanting downward to-
ward the inner side of the curve.
But, with the automobile, the road is presuma-
bly as level on the curve as elsewhere. In going
around a curve, therefore, the centrifugal force
causes the automobile to tip outward, increasing
the weight on the rubber tires of the outside
wheels, and of course taking off the weight from
the inner wheels.
Theoretically, even a little motion on a curve
produces some of this effect, but the tipping is
not visible except in higher speed. With speed
increased sufficiently to cause the centrifugal
force to overcome the weight, the automobile is
overturned— and, it will be found, invariably out-
ward from the curve.
If the chauffeur, in racing, takes a man to help
"hold down the machine," that man leans to the
inner side of the curve, as shown in photographs
of machines rounding a curve in a race.
If the occupants of an automobile, running at
high speed, fear that it will overturn on a curve,
they should lean inward, to help hold down that
side of the machine, just as each would do if he
were riding a bicycle.
varying colors of different parts of
ocean or lake
Loon Lake, Adirondack Mountains.
Dear St. Nicholas : Why does the water seem to be
gray in some parts, green in others, and blue in others?
Hoping you will answer my question, I am,
Your loving reader,
Charlotte Demorest (age 9).
The ocean water holds many kinds of mud in
suspension, and many salts in solution ; hence its
own color varies from pale blue and pale green
to muddy yellow or white. When we look at sea-
water, we get some of its real color mixed with
the sky light that happens to be reflected just then
from the surface of the ocean, and this compound
color may be blue, white, gray, or red, etc. ; con-
sequently, the color of the ocean will seem to be
different in different directions on different days.
Blue for clearest water in clearest weather, and
light green in cloudy weather ; gray for muddy
water in cloudy weather.— Willis L. Moore,
Chief U. S. Weather Bureau.
With lake or pond water, this explanation ap-
plies with the exception of the "salts in solution."
JACK AND JANE AND BETSY ANNE
PICKING FLOWERS"
RHYMES AND PICTURES
■Y
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f/'ayv,adier
1_9 » 3,
Jack and Jane and Betsy Anne
Drove Ned, the donkey, through a lane ;
They found a spot all bright with flowers,
" Oh, stop ! " cried Betsy Anne and Jane.
Out Betsy hops ; Jane reaches up
To get the blossoms on the tree ;
Ned chose the wreath on Betsy's hat !
And so they had wild flowers for three.
754
JACK AND JANE AND BETSY ANNE
FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
THE BOSSY CALF
Said Jack to Betsy Anne and Jane,
" We '11 fetch the Bossy home to tea ! "
The rope is tied round Bossy's neck,
And then what happens, you shall see.
For Bossy frisks and jumps about,
Then races off in antic glee ;
Jack, Jane, and Betsy Anne hold tight —
While Bossy brings them home to tea
755
B^f®<£)
<5T. NICHOLAS
LEAGUE
o c^
A HEADING FOR JUNE. BY
The list of prize-winners this month is so long that it
leaves us only scant space for mention and encouragement
of those whose contributions would have been printed if
only St. Nicholas could have made room for them. The
task of selection has never been more difficult than in this
competition ; and in the effort to include as many offerings
as possible, we have been compelled, for once, to omit the
Second Roll of Honor. Therefore, every name that ap-
pears upon the Honor Roll this month represents a con-
CHARLOTTE J. TOUGAS, AGE 17.
tribution of surpassing merit and quite worthy to rank
with many of those here printed. It is as disappointing
to the Editor, as to the contributors themselves, that so
many of these clever essays, poems, and pictures are
crowded out. But some of the young authors and artists
who sent them are already Honor Members ; and it is
only a question of time when the rest of these ardent
workers will join the ranks of the leaders of the League —
both in its pages and its prize-lists.
PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 148
In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.
PROSE. Gold badge, Dorothy M. Rogers (age 17), Gloucester, Mass.
Silver badges, Eva Jane Lattimer (age 11), Columbus, O. ; Helen L. Beede (age 12), Orleans, Vt. ; Dorothy May
Russell (age 15), Albany, N. Y. ; Susan Cleveland (age 7), Bryn Mavvr, Pa.; Elizabeth Hendee (age 14),
Hopkinton, la.
VERSE. Silver badges, Stanley Bonneau Reid (age 14), Oakdale, Cal. ; Ellen Lee Hoffman (age 14), St. Louis, Mo.
DRAWINGS. Silver badges, Jean Eleanor Peacock (age 11), Norfolk, Va. ; Rebekah Howard (age 14), Pittsburg,
Pa. ; Walter K. Frame (age 16), Pittsburg, Pa.
PHOTOGRAPHS. Silver badges, Genevieve Blanchard (age 14), Oak Park, 111. ; Olive L. Ladd (age 11), Lincoln,
Neb. ; Elizabeth H. Armstrong (age 13), New York City; Hazel Chisholm (age 14), New York City; Nancy Ambler
(age 14), Burlington, la. ; Mary Hogan (age 13), Decatur, Ala. ; Marjorie C. Huston (age 12), Coatesville, Pa. ;
Josephine Sturgis (age 15), Boston, Mass.
PUZZLE-MAKING. Gold badge, Marjorie K. Gibbons (age 15), Paignton, England.
Silver badges, Margaret Waddell (age 13), Colville, Wash. ; Eleanor King Newell (age 11), Lausanne, Switzerland;
Marion J. Benedict (age 13), North Tarrytown, N. Y. ; Fannie Ruley (age 14), West Philadelphia, Pa.
PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badge, Dorothy Belle Goldsmith (age 14), New York City, N. Y.
" COMING HOME.'
BY GENEVIEVE BLANCHARD, AGE 14.
(SILVER BADGE.)
3MING HOME. BY OLIVE L. LADD, AGE II.
(SILVER BADGE.)
756
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
757
i
THE TOILERS
BY STANLEY BONNEAU REID (AGE 14)
{Silver Badge)
'T is dawn ; that time when breaking day
Lifts the veil of night away.
From yonder hills of sapphire hue,
Fading now to lighter blue,
The sun oomes up, and, lo, the plain
Becomes a rose-touched sea of grain.
Now come the toilers, scythe in hand,
A merry, wholesome, peaceful band,
Who spread abroad o'er all the field,
To gather in the golden yield ;
With arms that ache, but hearts that sing,
Each man as happy as a king.
Hotter and hotter grows the day,
The cooling shade seems far away ;
Each busy man is pausing now
To wipe the sweat from off his brow,
■ Or leans to rest his tired back
Against the nearest fragrant stack.
* * # * # * *
At last the day of work is o'er ;
The weary toilers, hot and sore,
Wind homeward o'er the dusty trail,
And through the evening's gathering veil,
Until they vanish from our sight.
The stars are in the sky — 't is night.
AN EVENT OF YESTERDAY
(A true story)
BY EVA JANE LATTIMER (AGE II)
(Silver Badge)
In the days when our city was a little village, there
were Indians all around it. Some of them were
friendly, and some were hostile ; but most of them
would respond if the white people did them a kindness.
Among the citizens was a man who had been verv
COMING HOME.
;Y ELIZABETH H. ARMSTRONG, AGE 13.
(SILVER BADGE.)
kind to the Indians. He was called away on business,
and left his wife and eight-months'-old baby alone in
their cabin.
One morning the child was lying in his cradle, and
the mother was doing her work in another part of the
room, when, to her terror, two tall Indians appeared in
the doorway. They took the baby in their arms and
walked swiftly away toward the woods. The mother
followed, screaming to them to give back her child.
The Indians made signs to her to go back, but as she
could not understand their language, nor they hers,
neither knew what the other said.
She soon lost sight of them, and rushed to her near-
est neighbor's ; but in all the village there was not one
man, for they had all gone away to fight some hostile
Indians.
The women assembled in the mother's cabin to dis-
cuss what to do. In about two hours, while they were
still undecided, to their surprise and joy the Indians
again appeared, with the child in their arms. They laid
him in his cradle and left the cabin.
As the women crowded around the baby, they noticed
"THE MUSIC LESSON." BY LOUISE F. DANTZEBECHER, AGE 16.
(HONOR MEMBER.)
that on his feet were a pair of beautifully wrought
Indian moccasins. The Indians had carried away the
child to fit the moccasins to his little feet, and they
meant this as a kindness to the baby's father, for the
favors he had shown them.
A SCENE OF YESTERDAY
BY HELEN L. BEEDE (AGE 1 2)
(Silver Badge)
One night I sat by the fire reading, when things slipped
away, and I seemed to be in another land.
The scene I saw was a stretch of woods with a quaint
old church, and just as I decided I was viewing a scene
of 1620, I noticed a small procession of about fifty men,
women, and children coming into view.
The leader was the parson holding the large Bible,
followed by the men. They were dressed in the old
Pilgrim style, and carried huge guns. They were fol-
lowed by the women and children. They were also
dressed in the old style, and the children looked very
quaint and pretty.
The procession passed on and went into the church,
leaving a guard at the door.
Scarcely had the service begun, when I could see
savage forms crawling up behind the trees.
758
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[June,
Just then the guard discovered them and gave the
alarm.
Bang ! ! !
I had been asleep, and my book had fallen to the
floor.
I have often wondered whether the Pilgrims were
victorious, but I have never been able to finish my
dream.
I
si ** \ <JU>**^
AN OLD GARDEN
BY BRUCE T. SIMONDS (AGE 1 6)
{Honor Member)
Surrounded by a grove of tall, dark trees,
An old, old garden lies, deserted, sad ;
And o'er the grass-grown beds the summer breeze
Bewails the beauty which before they had.
Flowers have vanished ; here and there a rose
Blooms wanly, — only waits for life to close.
Farthest within, a fountain may be seen,
Once clear and sparkling, now a stagnant pool ;
The brim was gay with flowers too, but e'en
These now are dead; yet where the earth is cool,
One slender, pale blue iris still has grown,
And quiet stands there, musing all alone.
"coming home." by kathryne alling, age 13.
THE TOILERS
BY ELSA B. CARLTON CLARK (AGE 1/)
(Honor Member)
The world is old, the way is long ; its toilers ply their
labors still,
A heavy-laden, weary throng, ascending now the cloud-
capped hill.
The hill of Progress they must climb ; its mist-clad
summit hid from sight —
Perfection is a thing sublime, not yet revealed to
mortals' light.
From east, from west, from south, from north, the free,
the slave, the man, the child,
They make their journey bravely forth into the
unfrequented wild ;
They struggle on, a ceaseless stream, in art, in craft, to
rise up higher,
I see them pass as in a dream, half marveling they
never tire.
Their fathers' paths they leave behind, revered ; for
Time must bear them on,
And oft they sadly call to mind the Past — irrevocably
gone !
Half-joy, half-sorrow is the way, all fraught with
unimagined change,
Transient the Past — an honored day ! — the veiled
Future new and strange.
What is their Present? great or mean? noble or
worthless their advance?
A tragic or a gladsome scene? or some strange
interlude of chance ?
The toilers see not as they go ; they bend beneath their
burdens' weight,
The way is long, they yearn to know the hidden issue of
their fate.
The darkness still obscures the day ; but, mystical,
Faith's mighty wave
Bears into the dim far away the dauntless spirits of the
brave.
So toiling man doth leave behind the o'erlived Past he
doth revere,
And, in the unstable Present, find a perfect future
drawing near.
AN EVENT OF YESTERDAY
BY DOROTHY M. ROGERS (AGE 1 7)
(Gold Badge)
It was my eleventh birthday, and to celebrate the occa-
sion my mother had invited three of my cousins and a
small boy neighbor to pass the day with me.
During the afternoon, we tired of playing around the
house, and took a walk, which finally led us to a gravel
pit. This pit is very deep, and the side from which the
gravel is taken is almost forty or fifty feet high.
I had found a patch of blackberries, and was eating
them as fast as I could, when I heard the boy say :
"I '11 bet I can stump the whole of you."
My cousin Pauline was standing on the edge of the
pit where the turf overhung the steep slope. Hardly
had the boy sp'oken the words, when the turf gave way,
and she went over and over down the slope in a series
of back somersaults. We were horror-stricken, for the
THE MUSIC LESSON. BY JEAN ELEANOR l'EACOCK, AGE II.
( SILVER BADGE.)
child wore glasses, and, besides, she was dislodging
gravel and rocks.
Half-way down she partially caught herself on a
large piece of turf, but this started to slide, and she
continued her way down to the bottom among a lot
of rocks, gravel, and turf.
We all rushed toward her as she stopped, thinking to
find a badly hurt, if not unconscious, child.
The boy reached her first, and was about to offer his
assistance, when, to our joy, she got up as if her un-
expected descent was an every-day affair, and said to
the boy :
"Now you try that stunt, Dick !"
I9I2-]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
759
BY HAZEL CHISHOLM, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.) HY LUCY GREY, AGE II.
BY WARE CATTELL, AGE 9.
BY NANCY AMBLER, AGE 14.
(SILVER BADGE.)
BY NATALIE A. NOYES, AGE 13.
BY MARY HOGAN, AGE 13.
(SILVER BADGE.)
BY DOROTHY THOMAS, AGE 16.
BY RUTH MARSHALL, AGE 14.
BY MARJORIE C. HUSTON, AGE 12
(SILVER BADGE.)
'COMING HOME."
760
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[June,
THE TOILERS
BY PRUDENCE K. JAMIESON (AGE 17)
{Honor Member)
High aloft in- the old oak-tree,
A woodpecker toiled through the long, hot day ;
As he pecked and pecked the dry bark away,
He twittered and chirped to himself, chirped he :
"Here 's a nice, fat worm for my wifie wee ;
A grub apiece for the nestlings three ;
And, ha ! here 's a big one left for me !
I 'm as happy and gay as a bird can be !"
Down in the mine, near the old oak-tree,
A coal-miner toiled through the long, hot day ;
As he picked and picked the hard coal away,
He whistled, and sang to himself, sang he :
"There 's a nice, warm shawl for my wifie wee
A toy apiece for the kiddies three ;
And a pipe o' tobacco left for me !
I 'm as happy and gay as a man can be !"
"A HEADING FOR JUNE." BY REBEKAH HOWARD, AGE 14.
(SILVER BADGE.)
AN EVENT OF YESTERDAY
BY DOROTHY MAY RUSSELL (AGE 15)
{Silver Badge)
One day in the springtime, beneath the trees of a beau-
tiful old orchard that were in bloom, was Bess, a little
girl of four, with long, golden curls, and her brother
Bob, a manly little boy of eight.
They were playing horse. Bob put the reins over
Bess's head, then twisted them around his wrist. Then
they ran. The golden curls bobbed up and down be-
neath the trees that smelled so sweet, King, their dog,
barking furiously, when Bess disappeared, and Bob
was pulled to the ground.
"The old well ! help ! help !" Bob cried.
King seemingly understood and ran away.
"Mother ! Mother I" Bess screamed as she fell and
felt the reins tighten under her arms. She was held
at the mouth of the well. "Pull me up, quick."
"I can't, Bess ; but if you '11 keep still, I can hold
you till Mother comes," Bob said, and manfully dug
his toes in the ground, and grasped the branch of a
bush. The minutes seemed years.
"Pull me out, Bob, oh, please !" Bess cried.
"You must keep still."
"I 'm so afraid."
"Bess, shut your eyes and say your prayers."
"Now I lay me down to sleep — Bob, don't let me fall !"
"No, Bess, I 'm holding; go on."
"I pray thee, Lord, my soul to keep. If I should die"
— a scream, "Mother, quick !"
"Go on, Bess ; I 'm holding." But, oh, how cruelly
the reins cut the boyish wrist, drops of blood staining
the white reins ! Slowly, but surely, he was being-
pulled into the dark well. He tried to say,
"I 'm holding on," but the words were drowned in
the barking of King, steps were heard, — and Mother's
strong hand grasped the reins. Bess was pulled up.
"My brave boy," his mother said.
"Oh, that 's nothing, Mother," said Bob. "A fellow
had to hold on."
A SCENE OF YESTERDAY
{A true story)
BY MARGARET MC MAHON (AGE II)
About forty years ago, in Rome, in an apartment-house,
lived a little girl with her mother.
As the little girl was fond of music, her mother gave
her music lessons. They had no piano in their apart-
ment, so the little girl would go down to the music-
room on the floor below to practise.
One day when she was playing an air from the opera
"Lucia," she heard a step in the hall. Turning, she saw
a tall, handsome man with long, white hair and a wart
on his forehead, coming in the door.
As she turned, he said, in a very sweet manner :
"Go on playing, little girl ; I love music, too." The
girl, not at all frightened, played again, and while she
played, he showed her how to hold her hands.
When she had finished playing, he asked her if she
would like to have him play it for her. With an excited
face she answered : "Yes, please."
COMING HOME. BY JOSEPHINE STL'RGIS, AGE 15.
(SILVER BADGE.)
He took his place at the piano and played it for her.
He played other things from Bach and Beethoven, and
when he had finished, he turned and said to her :
"My dear little girl, you have a talent for music, and
if you work hard, you will become a fine musician."
Then he went away, leaving her speechless, for her
mind was still on the beautiful pieces he had played.
It was not until some time later that she learned that
the great king of the piano, Franz Liszt, had played
for her, and had given her a lesson.
igi2.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
761
AN EVENT OF YESTERDAY
BY SUSAN CLEVELAND (AGE 7)
(Silver Badge)
There was a little girl who wanted always to see every-
thing.
Yesterday her mother brought home a big package,
and, of course, she wanted, right away, to see what was
in it ; but her mother put it in the garret.
A HEADING FOR JUNE. BY ETHEL F. FRANK, AGE I.J.-
She grew very inquisitive, and, at last, she could
stand it no longer, so she got out of her bed and put
on her slippers, and went up to the garret, where the
box was. She was just going to open the box, when a
sudden fear came upon her, and she stopped ; and
again she tried, and this time she did. And what do
you think was in the box?
Nothing !
IN THE OLD GARDEN
BY ELEANOR JOHNSON (AGE 13) .
(Honor Member)
Where Grandmother's footstep's used to treaJ
Beside the garden wall,
There bloom fair hollyhocks, pink and red,
In stately grandeur tall.
And where she sat near the old stone gate,
The pansy bed still lies ;
And the flowers seem to watch'and wait
For her dear, smiling eyes. ,
The larkspur blue, and the pink moss-rose,
Bloom as in long ago;*
And the summer wind still gently blows
Their fair heads to and fro.
The sweet-peas sway, and the poppies red
Lull them to sleep full well; ■
While the moon and stars shine overhead,
And weave their magic spell.
For when the still of the night does fall,
There gleams a silver glow,
And Grandmother's sweet voice seems to call
From the realms of long ago.
Vol. XXXIX. -96.
AN OLD GARDEN
(Villa d'Este, near Rome)
BY ELLEN LEE HOFFMAN (AGE 14)
(Silver Badge)
In sunny land, 'neath azure skies,
Where ilex trees to slim heights rise,
An ancient garden rests in sleep,
While centuries their vigils keep.
And fountains fair their waters plash,
And in the sunlight gleam and flash ;
While roses tinge the unkempt stair,
And fill the air with perfume rare.
Once down these moss-encumbered ways
Proud ladies walked, in bygone days,
And harken'd to the tales of love
Breathed fervently to heav'n above.
Gay peacocks followed in their train
With tails outspread in grand disdain,
Mimicking ev'ry haughty air
That ladies fine are wont to wear.
Hundreds of years since then have passed,
And Myst'ry her soft spell has cast
, <£>To bathe this garden full of dreams,
MSsDSf '" In purest sunlight's golden beams.
A SCENE OF YESTERDAY
BY ELIZABETH HENDEE (AGE 14)
(Silver Badge)
The sun was sinking in a cloudless sky ; the day had
been hot and scorching, and the little band of men and
women who were traveling across the prairie land were
weary and almost despairing. Such a long, long time
it seemed since they had left their eastern homes and
started - for. that distant country known only as "the
West."
Now they -had reached it; and what had they found?
'A HEADING FOR JUNE." BY HAZEL S. HALSTEAD, AGE 17. (HONOR MEMBER.)
A vast unbroken plain, whereon no tree grew to soothe
their forest-loving eyes, nor hill arose to remind them
of their own beautiful mountains.
762
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[June,
But with the morning they took fresh heart, hitched
their teams to the great covered wagons, and again
pressed on.
And at last they were rewarded by the sight of a
broad stream of water, with a few cottonwood trees
growing along its banks.
Here they stayed through the nig+it, and in the morn-
ing the men rose early, to begin work on a sod house.
Day after day they worked, building more houses, and
shelter for the horses, and in every way possible pre-
paring for the winter.
When it came, it was long and hard, and four of
their number died ; one of sickness caused by exposure,
two in a blizzard, and one shot by an Indian.
"THE MUSIC LESSON." BY WALTER K. FRAME, AGE l6.
(SILVER BADGE.)
When the next summer came, more easterners ar-
rived and settled near them, until they had quite a little
village, with broad fields of corn spread round about
them.
As time went on, trees were planted, frame houses
built, and more towns sprung up near them.
Now the whole great Middle West is populated, and
is no more a pioneer country. And to whom do we
owe it all? To the little bands of people who left their
comfortable eastern homes to suffer hardships and pri-
vations in a land they knew little about. Ought we not to
feel grateful to those men and women of the yesterdays ?
A SCENE OF YESTERDAY
BY ELEANORA MAY BELL (AGE 1 2)
As we look behind us at the road to yesterday, we
sigh. We have yearned to come to the land of to-day,
and now that we are here, we wish we were back in the
land of yesterday.
Behind us stretches a road ; it is white, but not
smooth. Here and there is a stone, and it reminds us
of some blunder we have made.
We stretch out our arms and implore, "Oh, cannot
we go back to yesterday for just a little while?" A
breeze gently shakes the trees, and we hear a soft voice-
whisper, "Yes."
An old stage-coach rumbles by. On the driver's seat
sits a man. He wears high-topped boots, a long-tailed
coat, and a cocked hat.
"Can we go to the land of yesterday ?" we ask. The
man replies that we can, and we get in. We gaze out
of the window, and queer sights meet our eyes. We
see men and women dressed as our grandmothers and
grandfathers might have dressed. Everything looks
strange and old-fashioned. At last we come to a town.
The main street is very narrow, and on either side are
small houses. You could almost call them huts. Wo-
men sit on the porches, spinning. Along the sidewalk
comes a puritan maiden. She wears a quilted petticoat
of sober gray, and carries a prayer-book, so we know
she is going to church. A faint whiff of lavender is
wafted on the breeze as she passes. We hear a voice
whisper in our ear, "Time is up." We suddenly find
ourselves back in the land of to-day, behind us is a
mist, but in front of us stretches the long, white road
of to-morrow.
AN OLD GARDEN
BY HELENE MATHILDE ROESCH (AGE io)
O red and yellow tulips,
Your brazen beauties show
When zephyr's tender breezes
Amid your petals blow.
And thou, O lovely daisy,
Thy golden, sunlike face
Is hidden by white petals,
And blended in with grace.
And in a sunlit corner,
Our pussy, gray, doth sleep ;
While hollyhocks and roses
Our garden old complete.
But one sweet head 's forgotten,
And that 's of silv'ry gray, —
Ah, yes ! 't is little Grannie,
Who owns this garden gay.
"THE MUSIC LESSON. BY DOROTHY TAYLOR, AGE II.
THE ROLL OF HONOR
A list of those whose work would have been used had
permitted.
Muriel W. Avery
Irene Ivins
Dorothy H. De Witt
Agnes Hines
Walter E. Halrosa
Jennie E. Everden
PROSE
Gladys Naramore
Helen A. Winans
Dorothy von Olker
Fredrika W. Hertel
space
Cora Kane
Henrietta L. Perrine
Rutledge Atherton
Fanny Bradshaw
Gladys B. Furst
Ethel M. Feuerlicht
1912.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
763
Margaret E. Beakes
Edith M. Levy
Marcella Smith
Sybil Cobb
Priscilla Robinson
Lois Hopkins
F. Earl Underwood
Ruth B. Brewster
Elizabeth F. Bradbury
Nancy A. Fleming
Lillias Armour
Mary C. Lines
B. V. Huiell
Winifred Birkett
Gertrude V. R. Dana
Dorothy Talbot
Edith M. Howes
Doris F. Halman
Rachel L. Field
Marian Thanhouser
Virginia E. Hitch
Pauline P. Whittlesey
Eliz. McN. Gordon
Nellie Adams
Elizabeth Zerrahn
Harriett T. Miles
Rebecca Merrill
Janet Hepburn
Betty Humphreys
Dorothy Ward
Edith H. Walton
Dorothy C. Snyder
Marian Wightman
Anna S. Gifford
HEADING FOR JUNE. BY MARGARET
ELLIOTT, AGE 15.
Arthur Bent
Henry Van Fleet
Clara Holder
F. Marion Brown
Marian G. Banker
Walter L. Chapin, Jr.
Doris Knight
Harriet Henry
Katherine L. Guy
Elmer H. Van Fleet
Mae L. Casey
Frances Cavanah
James Sheean
Marion C. White
Marian Shaler
May Ody
Sarah Davison
Mary C. Burgoyne
Eliza A. Peterson
Hester R. Hoffman
Hilda Mabley
Edgar Krauch
John B. Main
Catharine Clement
Vida Cowin
Mary Daboll
Ruth B. Sentner
Harold A. Lemmler
Caroline E. Lipes
Celia Carr
Sarah Roody
Alison Hastings
Landis Barton
Margaret R. Bell
Marion Pool
Frances M. Ross
Geraldine B. Beach
Naomi Lauchheimer
Roy L. Mangum
Hattie M. Wulke
Betty A. Weston
Adeline S. Paul
Grace Grimes
William W. Ladd
Elsie Terhune
Mildred Thorp
Frances Morrison
Grace B. Philp
Eleanor De Lamater
Arthur Nethercot
Edna C. Eifler
VERSE
Winifred S. Stoner, Jr.
Vera F. Keevers
Alice Trimble
Katharine Riggs
Isabel Adami
Bertha E. Walker
Eleanor Hebblethwaite
Leisa G. Wilson
Mildred Ascheim
Dorothy McClintic
Loretto Chappell
Edith H. Besby
Fay E. Doyen
Vera J. Leighton
Phyllis Coate
Margaret Taylor
Jack Merten
Justin Griess
Nora M. Mohler
Elizabeth Moore
Hester B. Curtis
Alison M. Kingsbury
Adelaide H. Elliott
Rosella M. Hartmann
Marian Walter
Margaret V. Hanna
Margaret Brate
Catharine H. Grant
Lucie C. Holt
Dorothy Hughes
Ray Miterstein
Philip N. Rawson
Lucy Blenkinsop
PHOTOGRAPHS
Mary O. Sleeper
Hazel Pawlowsky
3etty Comstock
Dora Stopford
Evelyn Holt
Margaret Moon
Emmie H. Goetze
Margaret Condict
E. Alden Minard
Mary R. Stark
Florence Maclaren
Beatrice Stahl
Willie Meffert
Alice Moore
Elverton Morrison
Leslie M. Burns
Wilson Meyer
Renee Geaffrion
Margaret Leathes
D. Everett Webster
Claire Walker
A HEADING FOR J
COOPER,
Lillie G. Menary
Arminie Shields
Helen K. McHarg
Elsie E. Glenn
Phoebe S. Lambe
Hazel Sawyer
Marion E. Stark
Cleary Hanighen
Clarisse Sheldon
Helen B. Weiser
DRAWINGS
Harleigh Wathen
Chester B. Morris
Elizabeth Wilcox
Jean E. Peacock
Lily King Westervelt
Margaret A. Foster
Dorothy E. Handsaker
Dorothy Calkins
Harry Till
Harry Zitter
George T. La Due
UNE. BY AUDREY
AGE 16.
Virginia Konan
Henry E. Eccles
Persis D. Moore
William A. Nuzum
Dorothy Hall
Margery Andrews
Mary Botsford
Caroline F. Ware
Ellen R. Sherman
Kiki Roest
Ethel Malpas
J. Sherwin Murphy
Augusta Michael
Dorothy Parks
Howard Sherman
Louise Ladue
Valerie Underwood
Paul C. Rogers
Anne Ashley
Francis B. Wreaks
Margaretta Archbald
Adele Lowinson
Julia F. Brice
Alexander Scott
Gladys West
Charles S. Roll
Paull Jacob
Elwyn B. White
Charlotte L. Bixby
John Toole
Willet L. Eccles
Meredyth Neal
Frederick Biilch, Jr.
PUZZLES
Madelyn Angell
Edith P. Stickney
Lucy Lewis Thorns
Charles A. Stickney
May Gunn
S. H. Ordway, Jr.
Deborah Iddings
John M. Kellogg
Bessie T. Keene
Richard H. Randall
Anthony Fabbri
Julis Singer
Josselyn D. Hayes
Martha V. Pallavicino
Stephen Jacoby
Jessica B. Noble
PRIZE COMPETITION NO. 152
The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings,
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasion-
ally, cash prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge win-
ners who shall, from time to time, again win first place.
Competition No. 152 will close June 10 (for for-
eign members June 15). Prize announcements will be
made and the selected contributions published in St.
Nicholas for October.
Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, "A Message," or "A Messenger."
Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, " A Good Beginning. "
Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "Curiosity."
Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, "A Fashion," or " Fashionable," or a Heading
for October.
Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an-
swer in full, and must be indorsed.
Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas.
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on
the first page of the " Riddle-box."
Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur-
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The
prizes in the "Wild Creature Photography" competition
shall be in four classes, as follows : Prize, Class A, a
gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold
badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge.
Prize, Class D, a silver badge. But prize-winners in this
competition (as in all the other competitions) will not
receive a second gold or silver badge. Photographs must
not be of "protected " game, as in zoological gardens or
game reservations. Contributors must state in a few words
where and under what circumstances the photograph was
taken.
Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re-
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed
and stamped emjelop of the proper size to hold the manu-
script, drawing, or photograph.
RULES
Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not,
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who
has reached the age of eighteen years may compete.
Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied,
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the
number of words should also be added. These notes must
not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribiction itself—
if manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, on the
margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper
only. A contributor may send but one contribution a
month — not one of each kind, but one only.
Address : The St. Nicholas League,
Union Square, New York.
BOOKS AND READING
BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE
VACATION DAYS
Junetime is here again. Vacation will be the
next thing. Vacation, with all its fun and frolic,
its outdoor life, its boating, swimming, tramping
and camping, fishing and riding.
The chief joys of vacation are, naturally, those
to be found outdoors, and you are all of you prob-
ably full of plans for country doings. The days
are going to be filled full of green growth and of
sunshine, and you are going to be out in it every
waking minute. Only, of course, the days won't
all be bright ones; picnics and tennis parties will
have to be given up just as often this year, on
account of rain, as in the past ; rain that lasts all
day, or sudden thunder-showers that send you
scampering home. And there will also be sultry
afternoons that are made for the hammock under
the apple-trees or in the shady porch corner ; or
chill evenings when you prefer sitting around
the lamp in the living-room.
It is these quieter times that can be made as
memorably delightful as the rest, if, among your
rackets and clubs and fishing-rods, you have
packed along a few well-chosen books.
BOOKS TO TAKE ALONG
It is the choice of these few books that I want
to talk over this month. Once you are away in
your country home, it won't be so easy to get a
book as it is now; on the other hand, your trunk
has just so much room, and you must n't waste it
on a book you are not going to find worth
while. Six or eight well-chosen books ought to
be enough. You can fill a summer full of good
reading with that number, if each one is of value,
if it is enjoyable and, at the same time, able to
add to your possessions — those inner possessions
which are so much more enduring and precious
than the outside things we are apt to work so
hard to get.
In making up your mind as to just which books
you will take on your vacation with you, books
that won't bore or disappoint you, books that
won't be so light and frivolous as to waste your
time, nor yet so heavy as to make it a burden,
you must take certain things into consideration.
In the first place, the things you like and the
things you don't like. That seems easy enough.
"But hold !"— as they say on the stage. Are you
sure you don't like the things you think you don't
like? Perhaps you have never given them a fair
chance. Suppose you 've always said — and
thought— that you hated history. Now, history is
really a very wonderful and exciting subject, and
it seems likely that if you got over your prejudice,
you might find history as enthralling as other
people have found it. Last month I spoke of
Prescott's histories as being such excellent read-
ing. One of these on your summer's list may help
to open fascinating new regions to you. Or you
might try a history of a different kind, more like
a story, such as Lanier's "Boys' Froissart" and
"Boys' King Arthur," or Bulfinch's "Legends of
Charlemagne." Biography belongs with history.
Too many of you are afraid of it, without ever
really endeavoring to discover whether or not
you would care for it. There are lives of Daniel
Boone and Davy Crockett that beat most adven-
ture stories for excitement. There is also a world
of entertainment as well as information in a book
like Miss Seawell's "Decatur and Somers"— orig-
inally published as a serial in St. Nicholas— or
in any of Frank Trevor Hill's delightful histories
and biographies on American subjects. Buffalo
Bill's story of his life is capital, and so are Gen-
eral Grant's Memoirs. So don't decide too has-
tily that you dislike books on certain subjects —
subjects that most people find to be interesting.
The best choice for a group of summer books
is a varied one. Don't be afraid to be interested
in many things; it will help you to grow men-
tally, just as a variety of good food helps your
physical growth. Most of you have, however,
some favorite subject, and that is as it should be.
You want a book on that. Perhaps it is nature.
In that case be sure to take along a book by John
Burroughs, or William T. Hornaday, or John
Muir. Muir's splendid "Mountains of Califor-
nia" has been issued in a new edition this year,
and is a real treat. Or you might take one of
Thoreau's books, "A Week on the Concord and
Merrimac Rivers," for instance, or "Mount Ka-
tahdin." Some of you prefer Thompson-Seton's
animal stories, with their excellent drawings.
And one of the best of the late books is Overton
W. Price's "The Land We Live In," which is
simply crammed with interest and value from
cover to cover.
If you are interested in art or music or science,
be sure to take a volume on these subjects, or a
764
BOOKS AND READING
765
life of one of the men associated with them, of
which there are many. There are many books,
too, that tell how to know and understand the
best in pictures or in the operas, and other won-
derful volumes on recent discoveries and inven-
tions. Send to any bookseller for a catalogue on
your special subject, whatever it may be, and then
choose one of the books from his list.
Always take along a volume of poetry. Not
to love poetry is very much like not loving flow-
ers, or sunsets, or sweet thoughts, or noble feel-
ings. You will lose a great deal if you do not
learn to love it ; and the best, in fact the only,
way of learning to love it, is to read it. You can
take a book of collected poems, like "The Golden
Treasury," or "The Oxford Book of Verse." Or
you might choose Macaulay's "Lays," or Long-
fellow's "Hiawatha," or Tennyson's "Idylls of
the King." And an excellent choice is Pope's
translation of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Or
there are Riley's lovely songs ; and Stevenson ;
and Field ; or Scott's stories in verse.
You surely want a good long novel or tale of
adventure, like Scott's "Rob Roy," or his "Quen-
tin Durward." Then there is the always new
"Tom Brown at Rugby," by Hughes, or perhaps
Jane Porter's "Scottish Chiefs," a moving story
full of stir and incident. There are Stevenson's
stories ; there are Dickens and Victor Hugo ;
there is Howard Pyle, with his "Merry Adven-
tures of Robin Hood," and many another, the
pictures as delightful as the text, and both made
by him. Or you might enjoy a quiet story like
one of Louisa Alcott's, or Jane Austen's, or Mrs.
Gaskell's "Cranford," or Miss Yonge's "Dove in
the Eagle's Nest," or Kenneth Grahame's beau-
tiful "Golden Age." Let your story, however, be
by some writer you know to be good, and not too
recent, so that it has had time to ripen. For that
is good for books, just as it is for fruit.
As for fairy tales, I always think there is room
for a bulky volume of those delicious things, just
as there is room for moonshine in a summer night
or golden shadows in a wood. Perhaps you
have n't yet read Fergus Humes's "Chronicles of
Fairy Land." If not, you ought to, for it is an
adorable book. Then, too, there is Jean Ingelow's
charming "Mopsa the Fairy," and George Mac-
Donald's "Back of the North Wind," and "The
Princess and the Goblin." As we all know, there
is practically no end to the good fairy stories.
Let 's see : you now have a book on history or
biography; a book on your favorite subject; a
book of adventure or story ; a book of verse ; a
fairy book. That still leaves room for one or
two more in our little list for rainy and lazy sum-
mer days. I believe that, even though it may not
be your special subject, you ought always to in-
clude a nature book dealing with some particular
form of natural life, a book that tells you about
the birds, the wild flowers, or the trees of the
locality where you are to be. Or you might
choose a volume on geology, on the depths of the
sea or the heights of the sky and the shining
stars. There are stories about bees, ants, and
spiders that are brimful of interest and of sur-
prise. Nor should you neglect the small animals
of field and woodside, the snakes and moths, or
any of the manifold lives that go on so near you,
yet remain such mysteries unless you study them.
It seems to me that another type of book you
cannot afford to neglect is the travel story. Here
you have again a wide choice, for you have the
whole round earth to voyage over, once you em-
bark in a book. You can take some old volume,
like Dana's "Two Years Before the Mast," or
else a comparatively new one, like Stanley's
"Darkest Africa," or Peary's "Farthest North."
A book that is n't exactly a travel book, but near
enough, is "The Crooked Trail," by Lewis B.
Miller, which tells of a thousand-mile ride along
the Texan border in the days when the Lone Star
State was wilder than it is now. This book gives
a true and unforgetable picture of the West, and
you are sure to like it immensely.
Well, now we have about as many as we meant
to take along with us. It is n't a great number,
but if you make up your list in some such order
as I have suggested, your summer will hold
plenty of good reading. Of course you are tak-
ing about as much of the great ocean of liter-
ature in this little handful of books as you would
be taking water from the sea if you filled a cup
with it. But that cupful of water has the tang
and smell of the ocean, its wetness, a hint of its
color. And your handful of literature will give
you a taste of all reading, with its wealth of fact
and fancy, of imagination and information, song
and story.
It is far better to read seven or eight good
books thoroughly, than to waste your time doubled
up over a worthless collection of stories, all more
or less alike. Summer is the time for you to
keep outdoors, to play and gather fresh impres-
sions, to laugh and grow tanned. Any of it you
spend indoors you ought to make very worth
while, and hours spent reading a detective story
or a lot of cheap stuff that leaves nothing behind
but tired eyes, are foolishly spent. Better not
read at all for those free months. But if you use
the time you spend with a book in the company
of one who is clever and sympathetic and inter-
esting, who has something to tell you and tells it
well, you are doing a wise and a pleasant thing.
THE LETTER-BOX
In accordance with the announcement in the League pages
for May, we take pride in devoting the Letter-Box this
month to the following contributions by girl readers of the
magazine who loyally declare that St. Nicholas is "the
book " that has " helped them most." And we extend our
thanks to these young friends for the kindly appreciation
so cordially expressed in their letters.
"THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST—
AND WHY"
Since I first learned to read, I have read a great
many books of almost every description, yet I cannot
think of one of them that has helped me in so many
ways as the St. Nicholas.
The funny verses make me laugh when I am feeling
"blue" ; the advertising contests and the puzzles help
to keep my brain from beooming too rusty, and the
stories are pleasant to read after the work is done
(and sometimes before), or in the evening.
The League is where I think I have received the
most help, for it has given me a chance to make use
of my love of writing "stories." Since I was able to
write, I have been writing thoughts on paper that
amuse my small sisters, but are not worth wider at-
tention. The League has given me a chance to see
whether I could do anything worth while in com-
position or not.
Since my mother first urged me to write, I have sent
every month but one, and every month but one I
have been rewarded by seeing my name on either one
Roll of Honor or the other. My silver badge made
me feel very proud and happy, but I now long to
possess a gold badge, and I have not much more time
in which to win it.
I know, however, that when I truly deserve it, I
shall receive it, and so it rests with me to make my
work worthy of this honor from the League.
Dorothy M. Rogers (age 17).
The book that has helped me most is St. Nicholas.
I have taken it since I was four years old, and only
missed a year and a half.
In 1905 or 1906 there was a poem about "Smiley
Boy." Mother, when I was cross, would say, "Re-
member Smiley Boy." Then I would get over my
crossness. Later came the story of. "Queen Silver-
bell" and how she lost her temper. The temper was
a little fairy in a silver cage. When I was about to
lose my temper, Mother would remind me of "Queen
Silver-bell."
So St. Nicholas has done for me more good than
any other book.
Katherine Judson (age ioJ/£).
Many books pass through my mind. First come two
great stories of chivalry — "Ivanhoe," by Sir Walter
Scott, and Malory's "Morte Arthure." And then comes
the "Chaplet of Pearls," a historic novel of France.
After these come many college stories. But, as I
reflect, there is one book which comes to my mind
and remains there. Does this not contain legends of
chivalry, historic stories, and stories of to-day, as
well as other useful and desirable knowledge?' What
book is this ? Why, it is my bound volume of St.
Nicholas. My favorite school story, "The Crimson
Sweater," first appeared in the pages of St. Nicholas.
I am much interested in foot-ball, and if there is
any point in the game I do not understand, I have
only to turn to my well-worn volume of St. Nicholas
and read the splendid articles by Walter Camp. The
base-ball articles are very interesting. I understand
the game much better since I read them. If a ques-
tion arises in connection with nature or science, it
is usually answered by consulting St. Nicholas. Only
a few days ago, I wished to know why some days
were called "weather-breeders." When my last num-.
ber of St. Nicholas came, the answer was found in,
its pages.
We often wish a change from the popular "rag-
time" music. Then, what can please us better than
the old-time ballads, published in St. Nicholas? Can
any book be found more useful, entertaining, or in-
structive than dear old St. Nicholas? The book,
then, that has helped me most is St. Ni-cholas ; and
it has helped me because it always contains something
easy, something hard, something new, something old ;
but, best of all, I always find something that I need
most to know.
Elizabeth C. Walton (age 15).
I have books and books ! Why, one Christmas I re-
ceived fifteen books, but the next Christmas, I received
only one, and that one was the St. Nicholas.
Of course I was delighted to get this magazine, but
I was very disappointed that I did not receive more
books ; as the months rolled by, however, I found out
how very foolish I was, and how valuable this one
book was, and how very interesting the stories were ;
and not only this, but I found out the League was the
most interesting of all amusements. It helps one along ;
it makes one have an aim, something to look forward
to ; whether you are an artist or a writer, you are sure
of having a chance.
Marie Merriman (age 13).
The book that has helped me most is St. Nicholas.
St. Nicholas is not only a story-book, but it is a
book that teaches many things that one has not known
before.
St. Nicholas makes one think more about the
things around us, especially the pages of "Nature and
Science and Because We Want to Know" ; and others
are very instructive.
The stories of "Dorothy, the Motor-Girl," and "Crof-
ton Chums" are interesting and helpful.
Dorothy's trips in her car took one back to some
of our most noted writers' homes. One could just
imagine seeing the homes of Longfellow, Louisa M.
Alcott, and others as much loved by all.
I was reading "Little Women" at the same time
Dorothy was visiting the author's old home.
The prize competitions and puzzles set our minds
to working hard, and doing a lot of thinking about the
work, and the way we write and express our thoughts.
So far as the good we get from books and maga-
zines, St. Nicholas has helped me most, and I am
sure that all of the readers of St. Nicholas will agree
with me. Margaret Vaughan (age 13).
766.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER
Novel Acrostic.
words: i. Rowel. 2.
Primals :
Irony. 3.
Riley;
Lilac.
third row: Wolfe
4. Elfin. 5. Yield.
Cross
2. Par. 3. Paris.
Dab. 3. Domed.
Valid. 2. Arena.
Dam. 3. Devil.
2. Tap. 3. Tamar.
Diamonds Connected by a Square. I. 1.
4. Parasol. 5. Risen. 6. Son. 7. L. II. 1. G
4. Gambrel. 5. Berry. 6. Dey. 7. L. III.
3. Lever. 4. Inert. 5. Darts. IV. 1. R.
4. Ravines. 5. Mined. 6. Led. 7. S. V. 1. ]
4. Ramadan. 5. Paddy. 6. Ray. 7. N.
Novel Zigzag. Zigzag: Shakespeare: second row: Hamlet. Cross-
words: r. Shrimp. 2. Bakery. 3. Emesis. 4. Slopes. 5. Cellar.
6. Statue.
Illustrated Numerical Enigma. "He who purposes to be an
author should first be a student."
Geographical Zigzag. North Carolina. Cross-words: 1. New
York. 2. Corinth. 3. Rutland. 4. Atlanta. 5. Hamburg. 6. Ecua-
dor. 7. Alabama. 8. Orinoco. 9. < llympia 10. Algeria, n. Ice-
land. 12. England. 13. Augusta.
Cross-word Enigma. Leopard.
Double Acrostic. Nathaniel Hawthorne. Cross-words::. Noah.
2. Anna. 3. Trow. 4. Halt. 5. Arch. 6. Nero. 7. Iser. 8. Earn.
o. Lane.
Concealed Square Word.
Notes. 5. Tress.
1. Event. 2. Valor.
Elate
Diamond, i. M. 2. Sit. 3. Salad. 4. Million. 5. Taint. 6.
Dot. 7. N.
Double Zigzag. Zigzags: Michael Angelo, Sistine Chapel; 1 to 5,
David; 6 to 10, Moses. Cross-words: "1. Moves. 2. Digit. 3.
Cures. 4. Chute. 5. Alibi. 6. Terns. 7. Loose. 8. Dance. 9.
Neigh. 10. Agram. n. Equip. 12. Alien. 13. Oriel.
To our Puzzlers: Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 10th of each month, and should be
addressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth Street, New York Crty.
Answers to all the Puzzles in the March Number were received before March 10 from Judith Ames Marsland — "Midwood" — R.
Kenneth Emerson — Constance Guyot Cameron.
Answers to Puzzles in the March Number were received before March 10 from Robert L. Moore, 7 — Ruth Adele Ehrich, 7 — Ralph
P. Barnard, 8 — M. W. Johnstone, 8 — Margaret Thurston, 7 — Agnes L. Thomson, 8 — Isabelle M. Craig, 7 — Harmon B., James C, Glen T.
Vedder, 7 — Nellie Adams, 7 — Philip Franklin, 8 — Dorothy Belle Goldsmith, 8 — Courtland Weeks, 7 — Florence S. Carter, 7 — Thankful Bick-
more, 8 — Theodore H. Ames, 7 — Mrs. W. G. Hafford, 7 — Gladys S. Conrad, 3 — Margaret B. Silver, 3 — Horace L. Weller, 2 — Guy R. Turner,
6 — Elizabeth B. Williams, 3 — Claire Hepner, 6— Elizabeth J. Parsons, 2 — Janet B. Fine, 4 — John Martin, 3 — Mary Lorillard, 2 — Katharine L.
Drury, 2 — Dorothy Bowman, 5 — Edna R. Meyle, 4 — Henry Seligsohn, 5— Elizabeth Heinemann, 3 — Kathryn Lyman, 5 — Emily L. Abbott, 5 —
George B. Cabot, 4 — Joseph B. Kelly, 5.
Answers to one Puzzle were received from M. F.-
B. H— G. R— B. B.— M. D.— M. B.— B. M.
-F. C. S.— H. F.— E. E.— L. R.— W. E E. T.—D. W— M. Y. R.— B. K.— W. L.-
NUMERICAL ENIGMA
I am composed of fifty-two letters and form a quotation
from Lowell.
My 24-15-52-7-30-37 is a clown. My 35-1-26-8-28-
51 is empty pride. My 12-5^20-42-10-39—3-21 is a
rambling composition. My 16-40-13-48-27-25-44 is
non-professional. My 33— 18-17— 29-32— 1 1—3 1—43— 49 is
formed. My 19-34-45-36-23-9-46 is protection. My
38-50-4 is the call of a bird. My 14-6-2 is flowed.
My 22-47-41 makes a winter sport.
Esther dempsey (age 16), League Member.
CHARADE
My first is a creature decidedly small,
My second once rescued the race,
My third comes along with a telegraph call,
And my whole is a far distant place.
Gertrude russell (age 1 2), League Member.
PRIMAL ACROSTIC OF CONCEALED NAMES
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
In each of the following sentences a feminine name is
concealed. When rightly guessed and written one below
another, the primals will spell the name of a president
of the United States.
1. That teacher made linear measure seem easy.
2. She wore a bonnet tied with blue ribbon.
3. The odor is very sweet.
4. Pedro sees the monkey.
5. The lean organ-grinder begged for money.
' 6. Ask Edwin if reddish brown will do.
7. At San Jose Phineas met his uncle.
8. The man handed him a license.
9. "Get in the car, old fellow !" he shouted to his dog.
10. "Meet me under the oak at eight o'clock."
11. "Ah!" cried the hussar, "ah, could I see thee but
once again !"
12. The • new bass viol gave the boy great pleasure.
13. Use the funnel lying on the table.
MARION j. benedict (age 13).
KING'S MOVE FLORAL PUZZLE
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
1
T
2
u
3
1
4
N
5
N
6
O
7
1
8
A
9
L
10
A
n
O
12
B
13
A
14
R
15
N
16
T
17
V
18
1
19
O
20
G
21
E
22
C
23
s
24
u
25
P
26
1
27
L
28
R
29
S
30
E
31
O
32
c
33
T
34
E
35
H
36
c
37
O
38
O
F?
40
Y
41
O
42
P
43 .
P
44"
1
45
D
46
R
47
S
48
c
49
s
SO
P
51
Y
52
A
53 .
D
54
L
55
D1
56
1
57
Y
58
N
59
A
60
P
61
H
62
A
63
1
.64
NA
Beginning at a certain square, move to an adjoining
square until each .square has been entered once. If the
moves are correctly made, the letters in the succeeding
squares will spell the names of eleven well-known flow-
ers. ELEANOR KING NEWELL (age II).
y-c^-o^
.'
767
768
THE RIDDLE-BOX
ILLUSTRATED CENTRAL ACROSTIC
Each of the eight pictured objects may be described by
a word of five letters. When rightly guessed and writ-
ten one below another, the middle row of letters will
spell the name of a June visitor. nora bennett.
TRIPLE BEHEADLNGS AND QUADRUPLE
CURTAILINGS
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
Example: Triply behead and quadruply curtail unim-
portant, and leave consumed. Answer, imm-ate-rial.
In the same way behead and curtail : i. Simple,
and leave human beings. 2. Inflammatory, and leave
an aim. 3. A period of forty days, and leave hastened.
4. A manager of another's affairs, and leave a despica-
ble fellow. 5. According to the principles of mathe-
matics, and leave to edge. 6. Control, and leave ma-
turity. 7. Written names of persons, and leave a boy's
nickname. 8. Relevancy, and leave a metal. 9. Per-
taining to parts under the skin, and leave a kind of
lyrio poem. 10. Pierced with holes, and leave a prep-
osition. 11. Continuous bendings, and leave a large
tub. 12. To free from prejudices, and leave an epoch.
13. Pertaining to a phonotype, and leave a negative ad-
verb. 14. Wavers, and leave evil. 15. Unsettled, and
leave a vehicle. 16. Monarchs, and leave before.
The remaining words are all of the same length and
their initial letters spell the title of a play by Shak-
spere. fannie ruley (age 14).
TRANSPOSITIONS
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
Example : Transpose to forfeit, and make part of a
shoe. Answer, lose, sole.
In the same way transpose: 1. To weary, and make
a dress. 2. To wander, and make above. 3. Naked,
and make an animal. 4. A residence, and make a
direction. 5. A minute orifice in a body, and make a
stout cord. 6. Recent, and make a story. 7. Apparel,
and make to boast. 8. Dreadful, and make a kind of
excursion. 9. Answers the purpose, and make poems of a
certain kind. 10. Handles awkwardly, and make a winged
insect. 11. Part of a window, and make part of the
neck. 12. Part of a doorway, and make misfortunes.
13. A sound, and make a memorandum. 14. To whip,
and make a game.
The initial letters of the new words will spell the
name of an English poet.
MARGARET WADDELL (age 1 3).
CONNECTED SQUARES AND DIA3IONDS
(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
*
*
*
*
*
0
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
0
0
0
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
0
0
0
0
0
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
0
0
0
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
0
*
*
0
*
*
0
*
*
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0000000000000
000 000 000
* * 0 * * o * * o * *
*****OO0*****
####00000****
000*****
* # #
* * * *
# # * * #
1. Upper Left-hand Square: i. Speed. 2. A Greek
letter. 3. A twig. 4. A pronoun. 5. Earnest.
II. Upper Diamond: i. In prestige. 2. Uninterest-
ing. 3. Immense. 4. An animal. 5. In prestige.
III. Upper Right-hand Square: i. In an auto-
mobile. 2. A fruit. 3. Fatigues. 4. Open to view.
5, Musical signs.
IV. Left-hand Diamond: i. In prestige. 2. A
drinking vessel. 3. Sin. 4. To work steadily. 5. In
prestige.
V. Central Diamond: i. In prestige. 2. A period
of time. 3. Snares. 4. To imitate. 5.' In prestige.
VI. Right-hand Diamond: i. In prestige. 2. A
card. 3. Panic. 4. Before. 5. In prestige.
VII. Lower Left-hand Square: i. To stop the
progress of. 2. To be sufficient. 3. Tests. 4. Public.
5. Plagues.
VIII. Lower Diamond: i. In prestige. 2. A min-
eral spring. 3. A garden tool. 4. To join to. 5. In
prestige.
IX. Lower Right-hand Square: i. Transparent.
2. Permission. 3. Consumed. 4. To turn aside. 5.
Tears. marjorie k. gibbons (age 15).
THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Your Candy
Every one in your home gets "candy-hungry."
Peter's Chocolate fills the ever-present demand for
chocolate candy — because it has that peculiarly
delicious taste which you have always considered
the ideal chocolate flavor.
PETER'S
MILK CHOCOLATE
is the food and candy combined.
Itis as wholesome as it is delicious,
and you can give your family all
they want of it.
Peter's is the original milk
chocolate. For more than thirty
years it has been the purest milk
" Mgh a* the AipS chocolate made.
in Quality ' '
It is the business of the Peter Factory
to give you good chocolate candy
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
An Advertisement to Children
iZJM
K\>.l:bl->H< \l$
THE disease germ is a tiny, living thing
that can only be seen through the most
powerful microscope.
Though so small, he has done much harm
in the world.
It is he that gives you sore throat, measles,
whooping-cough, and all the other "catching"
sicknesses. It is he that makes your sore ringer
get well so slowly.
Even the doctors are afraid of him and
always try to destroy him.'
To-day every disease germ lives in mortal
fear of Dioxogen. One touch of it means death
to him.
That is why doctors, nurses, and wise
mothers and fathers use Dioxogen at once for
every kind of wound. Why they want you to
gargle with it, or at least rinse your mouth.
When it is busy killing germs, Dioxogen
bubbles and foams. You can see it work. Ask
mother to let you try it yourself.
Dioxogen is a germicide —
a germ destroyer — not
merely an antiseptic. It
is absolutely harmless, too.
Three Sizes: Small (5 ^3 oz. ) 25c.
Medium (10^ oz. ) 50c. Large
(zo oz.) 75c.
Dioxogen, 98 Front Street, New York City
10
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
ii
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
HP HE glistening whiteness and clear, spark-
ling crystals proclaim the absolute purity
of Crystal Domino Sugar. The dainty, easy-
breaking shape is the last touch of perfection.
Because it is sweetest and purest, it is also the
most economical — as thousands of housewives
have learned.
One of the "Qualify Products" of
The American Sugar Refining Company
117 Wall Street, New York
Read the story of its making 'n our splendidly illus-
trated booklet, sent on request. Address Debt. is.
12
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
The
Comfortable
Begins at the
Breakfast Table \
The most common table
beverages — coffee and tea —
contain a drug — caffeine —
which to some persons is an
irritant, and interferes with
digestion.
If you find this to be true
in your own family, stop the
coffee and tea and use
POSTUM
Well boiled, according to directions, it is a comforting
drink resembling Java coffee in color and taste.
The test is worth the trouble and may solve the
problem.
"There's a Reason"
Postum Cereal Company, Limited,
Battle Creek, Mich., U. S. A.
Canadian Postum Cereal Co., Ltd.,
Windsor, Ontario, Canada.
15
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
^W
^
IS
&
Let 's all have a good time
HERE'S a Junket Party. The original is in bright, pretty colors — size, 6x12
inches. See what a good time the children are having eating Junket, and
others are coming to join them. ^ You may have a good time, too, making
and eating Junket — so easy to make, so good to eat, and unlike any other
dessert. Junket Desserts are made with milk and Junket Tablets. Just fine to
give to your friends when they come to your real party. <J All you need do is to send
your name and address and Ten Cents, and you '11 get this beautiful toy, a Junket Recipe Book, and
a full-size package of Junket — enough for ten parties. We will send, all charges prepaid, three
packages of Junket with book and toy for 25 cents. <J Sit down right now and write for them.
THE JUNKET FOLKS
Chr. Hansen's Laboratory, LITTLE FALLS, N. Y.
FOR LIVELY BOYS AND GIRLS
RUBBER BUTTON
HOSE SUPPORTER
Has all the good features— secur-
ity, neatness, "handiness,"
and wear value. Buy it by
name and be sure.
Children's sample pair 16c. postpaid (give age).
GEORGE FROST CO., Makers, Boston
(Also makers of famous Boston Garter for Men.)
MENNEN'S
Borated Talcum
FOR MINE
For Prickly Heat and Sunburn
Relieves all Skin Irritations
Sample Box for 4c stamp
GERHARD MENNEN CO.
Newark, N. J.
16
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
From St. Paul, Minneapolis,
Duluth, Superior, Kansas
City, St. Joseph, Omaha.
Correspondingly low fares from all points East and South.
55
| For Yellowstone tour
_ of 53^ days from Liv-
2 ingston, Montana.
This Park rate includes
all meals, lodging and
stage transportation in
the Park,
Write for booklets about the trip and service. Enclose 6 cents for
"Through Wonderland," the most beautiful book on
Yellowstone ever issued. Address
17
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
"The difference between
knowledge and wisdom is
the difference between see-
ing an opportunity and
5>
seizing it,
— CHARLES CLARK MUNN
Great are the opportunities
offered by St. Nicholas to
reliable advertiser and wise is
that advertiser who does not
overlook the young folks.
18
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
RffKSSS
"Our
Eskay
Bahy
has never
had a
si'c£ day. "
Mrs. W. B.
Melone,
Cupertino,
Cal.
't right, he cannot
stand the summer heat without serious illness.
ESKAYS FOOD
is used by thousands of physicians, nurses and
mothers who have learned horn experience that
pure cow's milk modified with Eskay's can be
digested by baby's delicate stomach with no
more effort than mother's milk.
"Ask your doctor" about Eskay's, and
let us mail you our helpful mother's
book, and TEN FEEDINGS FREE.
Smith, Kline & French Co. 462 Arch St., Phila.
Preferred
Above
All
Others
Fifth Avenue at 35th Street
CHOCOLATES, BONBONS, FRENCH BONBONNIERES
The unique Luncheon Restaurant is a popular
resort for ladies — afternoon tea 3 to 6
Chiclets
W V REALLY DELIGHTFUL
Getting <j$um
Chiclets are the refine-
ment of chewing gum
for people of refine-
ment. Served at
swagger luncheons, teas,
dinners, card parties. The
only chewing gum that ever
received the unqualified sanc-
tion of best society. It's the
peppermint — the true mint.
Look for the Bird Cards in the
packages. You can secure a beau-
tiful Bird Album free.
For Sale at all the Better Sort of Stores
5c. the Ounce and in 5c,
10c. and 25c. Packets
SEN-SEN CHICLET
COMPANY
Metropolitan Tower
New York
19
St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. 126
Time to hand in answers is up June 10. Prize-winners announced in August number.
It is very evident to any one reading those depart-
ments of the St. Nicholas Magazine which are
the work of the readers themselves that there are
few subjects more interesting to those who favor
us with contributions, than pet animals. In the
Letter-Box and in the League alike, communica-
tions appear constantly testifying to the interest
of owners in their pets.
This has suggested to us a form of competition
somewhat novel, and yet appealing to most of
you, both because the subject-matter is interest-
ing and because the thing to be done is one well
within your grasp.
The art of advertising consists in conveying to
a reader a knowledge of an impression in your
own mind, and in conveying that impression so
strongly as to make your advertisement act upon
his mind. Thus the making of an advertisement
involves clear understanding of its subject, the
choice of those parts of it which make the strong-
est appeal, and the putting of your statements
into convincing form.
Knowing, therefore, that so many of you are
believers in keeping pets, such as dogs and cats,
ponies and birds, we ask you to write out a
statement showing the benefits of the keeping of
pets upon their owners. The task that you have
to perform is to tell plainly why it is of benefit to
young people to have the care of pets, to study
them, to care for them, to observe their ways,
and to become acquainted with their characters.
The objects to be borne in mind in writing such
a statement are : First, to compose it as if you
were writing an advertisement that would induce
people to keep pets; secondly, put your facts not
only strongly, but briefly, as if you had to pay for
the space required and therefore meant to make
every word valuable; third, to make such a state-
ment apply either to the keeping of one kind of
pet or to the keeping of pets generally, as you
may prefer.
You may put your facts and reasons into any
of these forms :
I. A "reader," which means a brief article
from 500 to 800 words in length, such as might
be printed upon the advertising pages in St.
Nicholas, something after the manner of the
"Old Bicycle Days," in the current numbers.
This means writing an article readable for itself
alone, and yet useful in advertising.
2. You may write in the form of an imaginary
advertisement.
3. You may write in letter form, telling of a
pet or pets, and then winding up by the statement
of what pleasures pets afford those owning them.
In no case should your statements in 2 and
3 exceed 300 words.
Though it is not necessary, you may also send
a picture of a pet if it adds to the attractiveness
of your paper.
You will see that the purpose of this competi-
tion is to test your ability to express facts and
arguments effectively, just as is necessary in
writing advertisements.
The prizes are as follows :
One First Prize, $5.00 to the one who submits the
best advertisement.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each to those who submit
the next best advertisements.
. Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each to those who submit
the next best advertisements.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each fo those who submit
the next best advertisements.
Here are the rules and regulations :
1. This competition is open freely to all who
may desire to compete, without charge or consid-
eration of any kind. Prospective contestants need
not be subscribers for St. Nicholas in order to com-
pete for the prizes offered.
2. In the upper left-hand corner of your paper give
name, age, address, and the number of this competi-
tion (126).
3. Submit answers by June 10, 1912. Use ink. Do
not inclose stamps.
4. Do not inclose requests for League badges or
circulars. Write separately for these if you wish them,
addressing St. Nicholas League.
5. Be sure to comply with these conditions if you
wish to win prizes.
6. Address answers : Advertising Competition No.
126, St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York.
A
KM^K
( See also page 22.)
20
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
The "Good Old Bicycle Days"
Making a Bicycle Tire — Third Article
By Harry Davis
WHEN my last article closed we had a cargo of crude rubber on the wharf at a South American
port ready for shipment to the United States.
In that article I told you all about the sharp-eyed little brown men of the Tropics — how they
carry on the first stages of the great rubber industry, gathering sap from the tall, stately rubber trees
and smoking it over palm nut fires until it hardens and takes the form of big balls, or "biscuits."
This month we will visit a factory. There we will see how
the crude rubber is made into bicycle tires.
Suppose we select for our trip one of the great plants operated
by the United States Tire Company. This concern has four
immense factories. Each is equipped with the most modern
machinery known to the rubber industry, and at each hundreds
of men work twenty-four hours (in three "shifts" ) every day,
making tires — bicycle, motor-cycle, and automobile. As we
enter the door the musical buzzing of machinery greets our ears,
and we soon discover that this factory is a very busy place.
An attendant meets us and will show us through.
First of all we will go to the store-room where thousands and
thousands of dollars' worth of crude rubber is kept. Here we
find the balls that have come by steamboat and railway train
from far-off countries.
A workman pushes a wheelbarrow into the room, piles it full
of split balls and pushes the load away. Let 's follow him.
He wheels up alongside of a large metal tank filled with
water. Dip your finger in it. Hot, is n't it?
Into this water the crude rubber is dropped and the actual
work of making a bicycle tire has begun. The object of placing the rubber in hot water is to soften it. Several hours
of soaking are required to get it in shape for further handling.
After being removed from this tank the first process in the treatment of rubber is washing. This is a very important
step. Above everything else rubber must be clean. Every particle of sand, bark, and other substances that have dropped
in while the liquid was being smoked must be washed out of it ; otherwise, a perfect tire cannot be turned out.
The washing is done on huge rollers over which trickle streams of pure water. The rubber is rolled and washed and
washed and rolled until it is absolutely clean. At this stage rubber resem-
bles bands of crushed sponges. The bands vary in size. They may be as
much as half an inch thick and four feet wide. In this form rubber is
known as "crape."
Following the crape as it leaves the washer we are led to the drying
room. We won't care to stay more than a minute or two here. It is
too warm. You know how hot it gets sometimes in Summer. Well,
in this room it is just as hot all the time as it is on a scorching August
day. A temperature of about 90 degrees is maintained.
The bands of crape are hung in rows in this hot room, where they are
allowed to remain for several days until they are thoroughly dried.
Now comes the mixing process. You may have watched your mother,
or perhaps the cook, mixing bread. You know how she kneads the
dough with her two hands until it is ready for the baking pan. Well,
rubber is handled in much the same way except that the work, instead of
being done by human hands, is performed by powerful rollers. The rub-
ber is fed into them and is squeezed and rolled and rolled and squeezed un-
til it becomes a big plastic mass looking for all the world, except as to
color, like an enormous batch of bread-dough.
Before we go any further let me ask you — do you think your tires are
made out of pure rubber? If you do you 're mistaken. You probably
would use up a set of tires every week if they were. Pure rubber tires
would be too soft to wear. Therefore the rubber gum must be mixed
with mineral substances to make it strong and tough. This process is
called compounding. Sulphur and other materials are used to give your
tires wearing qualities.
After rubber .has been thoroughly mixed with the compound it is almost
ready to go into tires. But there are several important steps yet to be taken.
In my next article I '11 tell you about them. Don't fail to read it. Washing rubber
Split balls of crude rubber — called "biscuits'
21
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
Report on Advertising Competition No. 124
The Judges were rather sur-
prised to find that almost all of
you had different ideas as to how
dens should be furnished. They
ranged all the way from that little
crowded room in the attic which
mother uses to store old furni-
ture, trunks, and odds and ends,
to a large room in your brand-
new house, as yet only partially
furnished because you have n't
found just exactly the right kind
of chair for that particular corner.
The Judges are pleased to note
that most of you sent in your
papers so carefully wrapped and
so clean and fresh, that it was a
pleasure to open them.
Of course there were some of
you, as usual, who did n't read
the rules carefully and failed to
copy and enlarge the drawing of
the room itself; and quite a number
put too many things in their dens,
in spite of the warning we gave
them, with the result that the room
looked very crowded and anything
but neat. It was also very difficult
for some of you to get the right
perspective.
There were a large number of
rooms that really were furnished
very prettily, but the Judges, as
youknow, can award only acertain
number of prizes, and it is always
quite a task to select the best
papers and be fair to all.
There were some dens, how-
ever, which looked so comfortable
and cozy that the Judges just
could n't help butgive them prizes
right away. The work was really
very good, and showed much
taste and care.
Here is a list of the most expert
house furnishers:
One First Prize, $5.00:
Marian R. Priestley, age 17, Pennsylvania.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each:
Harry R. Till, age 16, Pennsylvania.
Vernon B. Smith, age 1 7, New York.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each :
Elizabeth Weld, age 14, Michigan.
Eleanor T. Middleditch, age 16, New York.
Jean P. Mumford, age 13, Pennsylvania.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each :
Isabel Dell Shelpman, age 1 2, Missouri.
Margaret Conty, age 16, New York.
Elizabeth Chase, age 13, Massachusetts.
Wilbur A. Moore, age 9, New York.
Dorothy Morris, age 1 2, Illinois.
Theodore S. Wray, age 11, New York.
Dorothy Pickhardt, age 14, New York.
Beatrice Holliday, age 11, Massachusetts.
Dorothy E. Hartford, age 16, Massachusetts.
Dorothy M. Hoops, age 14, Hawaii.
HONORABLE MENTION
Anita Ferguson, age 14, Canada.
Katherine Wilson, age 10, New Jersey.
Howard J. Abbott, age 8, Minnesota.
Ruth Aldridge, age 1 5, New York.
Hildegarde Beck, age 13, Wisconsin.
Iverne Haus, age 14, Colorado.
Russell Clark, age 1 2, New York.
Marjorie MacMonnies, age 14, New York.
Wortha Joy Merritt, age 13, California.
(See also page 20.)
22
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
The Old Nest
By RUPERT HUGHES
A book for every grown-up son and daughter, the story
of one mother's longing for her scattered brood — a story
of which one son wrote to the author: " I read the story this
morning— to-night I leave for Kansas City to visit my mother. "
One of those great little books that win the reading world
by its humor, its pathos, and its universal, heart-touching
'' A charmingly made book. Price $1.00 net, pontage 6 cents
Tante
By ANNE DOUGLAS SEDGWICK
A masterly novel by a finished and brilliant author, of which Andrew
Lang writes : " I stand amazed at the qualities of the author's genius." And
other readers: "Marvelous," "fascinating."
"Anne Douglas Sedgwick has written many good stories, but none so per-
fect or so brilliant as this. 'Tante' is one of those few novels that show a
human character nearly in its entirety, and that can make its appeal not by its
incidents, but by its analysis of an extraordinary mind."
Price $1.30 net, pottage 14 cents
The Fighting Doctor
By HELEN R. MARTIN
Another entertaining and quaintly humorous story of life among the Penn-
sylvania Dutch, by the author of 'Tillie : a Mennonite Maid." A love
story spiced with the unusual. „ . . _, „.
J r Price $1. OO net, postage 7 cents
The Woman from Wolverton
By ISABEL GORDON CURTIS
The story of what Washington life brought to one newly elected Con-
gressman's family. A book of which Vice-President Sherman says:
"A real book about real people. A most refreshing departure from the gaud
and glitter which have been served us." _ . ,, __
fo Price $1.25 net,
postage 11 cents
The Burgundian
By MARION POLK ANGELLOTTI
A splendid tale of fair ladies and brave knights, of love and battle, in the
days of the mad King Charles VI of France, and of Rosamonde and her
beauty and her pride — a tale glowing with life and color.
Illustrations by Rosenmeyer. Price $1.30 net, postage 11 cents
Captain Martha Mary
By AVERY ABBOTT
A sunshiny tale of a plucky little Mother of the Tenements, and of her
devotion to her brood of younger brothers and sisters. Martha Mary
has the efficiency that often goes with red hair, and how she wins out is
delightfully told. _ .. . „.»«„,,
° J trontispiece. Price $1.00 net, postage 7 cents
THE CENTURY CO., UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK
23
ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE
CONFEDERATE LOCALS
THESE lines are addressed mainly to those read-
ers of St. Nicholas who live south of the
Mason and Dixon line, and who have access to old
letters written in the early sixties. The so-called
Confederate Locals are all rare, and many of them
exceedingly so. Some of them are not really stamps,
but are provisional envelops. Do not destroy an
old envelop because no stamp appears upon it.
Many postmasters, having no stamps to supply the
demand, manufactured a "provisional" stamp or
envelop in this manner : they surcharged one corner
of the envelop with what looks like a circular post-
mark. This usually reads, "paid five cents" or "paid
ten cents," and is without date, while the canceling
post-mark which appears also upon the used en-
velop is usually in a different colored ink and bears
a date. Do not destroy such envelops because they
seemingly bear no stamp, but submit them to some
experienced collector. There are doubtless many
varieties of these provisionals yet to be discovered.
APPROVAL SHEETS
IN the making of a collection the source from which
additions to it may be made is a vital and inter-
esting problem. After the beginner has exhausted
the various opportunities at hand, he usually resorts
to some dealer for the continuance of supply. Here
one may buy in three ways — packets, approval
sheets, and want-lists. If the collection is only a
small one, money can be invested to the best advan-
tage in the purchase of a packet of stamps. Buy as
large a packet as your pocket-money will allow, or,
if you wish to spend only a small sum at a time, buy
one of a series of what are called "non-duplicating"
packets. Any of our advertisers can give you a list
of many kinds of packets — all sizes and varieties to
fit the needs of every purse. After having purchased
either a large packet or an entire series of non-
duplicating packets, it is obviously unwise to depend
upon this source of supply unless one is willing to
run the risk of accumulating many duplicates. Re-
course then should be had to what are called "ap-
proval sheets." These are sheets of paper, varying
in size, and ruled to accommodate twenty-five, fifty,
or one hundred stamps, as the case may be. In each
space is placed a stamp and the price for which that
particular stamp is offered. Some dealers give also
the catalogue number and price of the stamp. The
collector who receives the sheets compares the
stamps offered with those he already has, and so
selects for purchase only such as are additions to
his collection, returning the remaining stamps to the
dealer who sent the sheet, with a remittance for
those taken from it. In this way no duplicates are
accumulated. The stamps on these sheets are nearly
always in good condition, genuine specimens, and
offered at attractive discounts from the catalogue
prices. Most of the sheets for beginners are offered
at fifty per cent, discount, and this by dealers of
unquestioned responsibility and integrity.
Stamps from approval sheets can be sold by a
dealer at greater discounts from catalogue prices
than if called for on a want-list. This is because of
the saving of time in the making up of the sheets.
They are made up in this manner : for sheets con-
taining twenty-five stamps a series of drawers is
made, each drawer containing twenty-five compart-
ments. In each compartment the dealer puts one
hundred or more specimens of a certain stamp.
Each compartment is marked with the price of that
especial stamp. He has then before him the ma-
terial for one hundred sheets. The sheets bear the
request that they be not torn or soiled. Stamps
taken from the sheet by the first recipient can be
readily replaced from the corresponding boxes in
the drawer, and the sheet is as good as it was orig-
inally. This means a great saving of time to the
dealer and enables him to offer the stamps at large
discounts.
When asking any of our advertisers for approval
sheets, always mention about how many stamps you
have in your collection, and tell him about how
much money you can spend if the stamps sent are
such as you desire. When a minor asks for stamps,
it is necessary to have some responsible person guar-
antee the payment of the account.
ANSWERS TO QUERIES
£U \ GAIN we must caution correspondents to be
jl ri particular about inclosing their address with
their inquiries. We are always glad to answer
questions, and if a stamped envelop is inclosed, we
will reply more promptly than can be done through
these columns. We have before us a letter from
Mrs. M. A. C, who gives no address, but inquires
about the value of certain Civil War Revenues and
some stamped envelops. In reply we would say
that some of the stamps referred to are quite scarce
and desirable. But there is a great deal of tech-
nicality about stamps, and the description given is
not sufficient to definitely determine the stamp. For
instance, one of the stamps is mentioned as the
"one-cent internal revenue of 1863." This stamp
was issued imperforate, part-perforate, and perforate,
and also has different wordings in the label. It may
be "Express," or "Playing Card," "Proprietary," or
"Telegraph," and its value varies with its label. If
Mrs. . M. A. C. will send her address to the Editor
of the Stamp Page, fuller information on the sub-
ject will gladly be given. IJ A collection of "entires"'
means a collection of entire envelops still bearing
the stamps which were used to pre-pay the postage.
The earlier issues, especially the very earliest, are
much sought after on the entire envelop or cover.
Certain stamps like the "local" issues of the United
States are worth much more when on the cover.
<J The private match and medicine stamps of the
United States should be saved. Many of them are
scarce and all are interesting. Many of the older
collectors devote themselves entirely to collecting
these and the United States Revenues. <]| A stamp
with perforated initials is worth only about one half
as much as a similar specimen without the initials.
The varying initials are those of large firms which
use stamps extensively — purchasing them in entire
sheets and perforating them as a guard against theft.
These sheets should not be found outside the prem-
ises of the firm indicated by the initials.
' fe2a222Z£2gZ2222225aaag32g222222SaZ2ZSg2223^
24
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY
THE CONTINENTAL lished for beginners'. The
best on the market. 8x5 inches, holds 560 stamps, 160 illustrations.
Special bargain price 10c. 108 all different stamps from Paraguay,
Turkey, Venezuela, etc., 10c. Finest approval sheets at 50 per
cent, discount. Agents wanted. Write for a selection to-day.
Scott Stamp & Coin Co., 127 Madison Ave., New York City.
TAKE NOTICE
U. S. Envelopes cut square at 50% discount, each one correctly
numbered.
NEW DIME SETS
4 Ecuador 1899, 2 Nyassa 1901, 4 Nyassa Rep. 1911, 5 Portugal
Rep. 1910, 5 Japan (China) 1900-08, 4 Finland 1885, 7 Portugal
1910, 5 Finland 1882, 6 Nicaragua 1912. 1912 Price List free.
Best Hinges. Ideal 15c. per 1000. Ideal Jr. 10c. per lOoO.
New England Stamp Co.
43 Washington Building Boston, Massachusetts
jf&Sis. STAMP ALBUM and 1000 foreign mixed, 10c.
/W^SSk 1000 Old U. S., 25c. 25 rare So. and Cent. Am., 10c.
[Mi Ml 25 diff. unused, Cuba, Nic, Salv., Phil., etc., 10c.
WmMwl •« diff. rare (Catal. $2.50), only 25c. 15 diff. China,
\jf5fjgwr 10c. 7 Siam, 12c. 10 Finland, 4c. 3 Soudan Camel,
^SSr 5c. 8 beautiful Borneo, Labuan, etc., pictures, 10c.
25 Persia, 25c. 25 Japan, 5c. 150 all diff., 6c. 200 all diff., 9c. 8 Java,
5c. 5 Crete, 5c. 1000 best hinges, 5c. 100 all diff. free for names
of two active Stamp Collectors and 2c. postage ! Finest Approval
sheets in America at 50% to 80% discount. Try them ! Large
112 pp. Bargain Lists. $3.00 worth of Coupons, etc., free ! We
give valuable stamps free to our agents ! We Buy Stamps and
Large Collections. C. E. Hussman Stamp Co., St. Louis, Mo.
RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
xgS[Jjv with Catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents. If possible send
«»*SSm names and addresses of two stampcollectors. Special
[Ml jMl offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
ImfcJMW lie. 40 Japan, 5c; 100 U. S..2nc; 10 Paraguay, 7c; 17
NjSsSQ*/ .Mexico, 10c.:20Turkey,7c.;10 Persia, 7c; 3 Sudan, 5c;
^9£gr loChile, 3c.;50 Italy, 19c. ;200 Foreign, 10c; 10 Egypt,
7c.;5o Africa. 24c.; 3 Crete, 3c; 20 Denmark, 5c; 20 Portugal, 6c; 7
Siam, 15c; 10 Brazil, 5c; 7 Malay, 10c; 10 Finland, 5c; 50 Persia,
89c;5oCuba, 60c; 6 China, 4c; 8 Bosnia, 7c. Remit in Stamps or
Money-Order. Fine approval sheets 50% Discount, 50 Page List
Free. Marks Stamp Company, Dept. N, Toronto, Canada
STAMPS FREE, 100 ALL DIFFERENT.
For the names of two collectors and 2c. postage. 20 different
foreign coins, 25c Toledo Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio, U.S.A.
STAMPS 108 ALL DIFFERENT.
Transvaal, Servia, Brazil, Peru, Cape G. H., Mex-
ico, Natal, Java, etc., and Album, 10c 1000 Finely I
Mixed, 20c 65 different U. S., 25c 1000 hinges, 5c
Agents wanted, 50 per cent. List Free. I buy stamps.
C. Stegman, 5941 Cote Brilliante Av., St. Louis, Mo.
RA RCA INS EACH SET 5 CENTS.
DrtrvVA.tt.1110 10 Luxembourg ; 8 Finland ; 20 Sweden ;
15 Russia; 8 Costa Rica ; 12 Porto Rico; 8 Dutch Indies; 5
Crete. Lists of 6000 low-priced stamps free.
Chambers Stamp Co., Ill G Nassau Street, New York City.
70
DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS FROM 70 DIF-
ferent Foreign Countries, including Bolivia, Crete, Guat-
emala, Gold Coast, Hong-Kong, Mauritius, Monaco, Persia,
Reunion, Tunis, Trinidad, Uruguay, etc.. for only 15 cents — a
genuine bargain. With each order we send our pamphlet which
tells all about "How to Make a Collection of Stamps Properly."
Queen City Stamp & Coin Co., 7 Sinton Bldg., Cincinnati, O.
STAMPS 100 VARIETIES FOREIGN. FREE. Postage 2c.
Mention St. Nicholas. Quaker Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio.
DANDY PACKET STAMPS free for name, address 2 collec-
tors, 2c postage. Send to-day. U.T.K. Stamp Co., Utica, N. Y.
STAMPS 105 China, Egypt.etc, stamp dictionary and list 3000 isa
bargains 2c Agts., 50%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston, as)
5 VARIETIES PERU FREE.
With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N. Y.
different Confederate State bills, 15c.
F. L. Toupal Co., Dept. 55, Chicago Heights, III.
STAMPS' CHEAP! 333 GENUINE FOR-
|J * ^V1T11 ~" eign Missionary stamps, 5c. 100
foreign, no two alike, incl. India, Newfoundland, etc.,
only 5c 100 U. S. all diff., scarce lot, only 30c. 1000
fine mixed, 15c Agts. wtd., 50%. List free. I buy
stamps. L. B. Dover, D-6, St. Louis, Mo.
STEEL Sample card 12 pens & 2 penholders for 10 cents.
PENS, Spencerlan Pen Co. ,349 Broadway, New York.
SHETLAND PONIES
Make Childhood Memorable
Fun, fresh air, and splendid training for
mind and body go with a " Sheltie." Give
your child this best and jolliest of child-
hood-comrades. We breed and train superb
Shetland Ponies. 300 in our herd. Write
for free Price List. " Pony Fairyland,"
a great book, sent for 6c to cover postage.
DUNLAP PONY CO.
20 Spring St.. Greenfield, Ohio
CUCTI AUII PnNIFC The hest playmate for the children, summer or
OMLILUHU rUHILO winter pauiille w. Smith, Sandy Hook, Ct.
"CECIL PEOLI" CHAMPION RACER
Official Record 1691 feet, 6 inches. Complete Materials to
build the Peoli Racer, with plan and instructions, S3. 75.
J Plan and directions for building aaA flying this
I famous Racer, 25c. Wright Biplane, 3-ft. Flying
Model, plan and instructions, 25c. Plan and instruc.
tions for 3-ft. Flying Model Bleriot Monoplane, 15c,
Complete Stock of Guaranteed Materials and Parts.
OUR NEW UP-TO-THE-MINUTE CATALOG CONTAINS EVERY-
THING. ALSO HAS OFFICIAL RULES FOR CONTESTS. 5c. BRINGS
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
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[The entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission.]
CONTENTS OF ST. NICHOLAS FOR JULY, 1912.
Frontispiece. " 'Oh, Pardon Me, Your Excellency! ' I cried." Illus- Page
trating the story "The Lucky Sixpence." Drawn by Arthur E.
Becher.
For the Pennant, or, Battle-ships at Target-Practice Charles B. Brewer 771
Illustrated from photographs.
A Brave Little Mother. Story Flora Macdonald 778
Illustrated by George A. King.
The Persian Kitten. Picture. From the painting by Louise Cox 779
Dorothy of Salem Town. Verse Alix Thorn 780
Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
The Fourth of July Regatta. (" Ballads of the Be-Ba-Boes.") Verse. D. K. Stevens 782
Illustrated by Katharine M. Daland.
A Relicof the Revolution. (The General Knox Headquarters House.). Everett McNeil 786
Illustrated from photographs.
The Wrong Side. Verse Alice E. Allen 789
The Lady of the Lane. Serial Story Frederick Orin Bartlett 790
Illustrated by E. C. Caswell.
The Story of Prince Scarlet Mary Stewart 796
Illustrated by Reginald Birch.
The Dream-Ship. Verse. Illustrated Miriam S. Clark 799
President Washington and Flying, illustrated Marion Florence Lansing. . . 800
The End of a Giant. Verse Pauline Frances Camp 802
Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan.
The Whippoorwill. Verse, illustrated Edward N. Teall 803
Playing the Game. (Base-ball Series.) C. H. Claudy 804
Illustrated from photographs and with diagrams.
The Townsend Twins — Camp Directors. Serial Story Warren L. Eldred 813
Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
The Daisy Field. Picture. From the painting by Charles C. Curran 820
The Triplets' Plain Party Elizabeth Price 821
Illustrated by E. A. Furman.
-The Lucky Sixpence. Serial Story \ Emilie Benson Knipe and > ggg
Illustrated by Arthur E. Becher. ( Alden Arthur Knipe ,
Seeing the President. Verse N. F. Richardson 834
Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
" A Duet." Picture. Drawn by Gertrude A. Kay 835
Just for Fun :
Johnny's Fourth of July Oration. Picture. Drawn by
C. F. Lester 836
Trouble in High Life. Picture. Drawn by Culmer Barnes 836
The Cheerful Little Girl and Her Cheerful Little Doll. Serial
Story Caroline Stetson Allen ..... 837
Illustrated by Alice Caddy.
Nature and Science for Young Folks, illustrated 842
For Very Little Folk:
The Drum-Major. Verse, illustrated Wells Hastings 850
Willie's Air-Castle. Verse Edwin C. Beal. 851
Illustrated by Mary Anderson.
Making Friends. Verse f. w. m 851
Illustrated from photographs by Alice L. Clark.
St. Nicholas League. With awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems,
Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles. Illustrated 852
Books and Reading, illustrated Hildegarde Hawthorne 861
The Riddle-Box. illustrated 863
St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 18
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Entered as second-class matter at the Post-Ofhce Department, Canada.
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
A Few of the New TreatstCon
CRUISE. OF THE 'ESKIMO'
Bravery of Four Boys in a Sailboat Accident
A GIRL WHO SAVED A SHIP
Courage of a Lighthouse Keeper's Daughter
STIRRING ADVENTURES
Hosts of Fine Surprises
»»
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IT These boys and girls have hurried up to see what is on the St. Nicholas Bulletin. Presently they will goal
and tell their friends about the treats in St. Nicholas, and their friends will ask their parents to subscribe.
IT Do you tell yovr friends how much you like St. Nicholas?
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Coming in St. Nicholas
' A STORY OF SONG-SPARROW
Especially Interesting to Younger Children
GORDON OF KHARTUM
A Great Story Told by a St. Nicholas Reader
JOLLY RHYMES 6 PICTURES
s Ready f or Your Enjoyment
|!t. Nicholas in 1912 is a better comrade than ever for boys and girls of all ages. Beside the splendid
als there will be scores of short stories, jolly jingles, beautiful pictures, and interesting, valuable articles,
'hree dollars a year. The Century Co., Union Square, New York.
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
This is a great book for a boy
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
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'"OH, PARDON ME, YOUR EXCELLENCY!' I CRIED.
("THE LUCKY SIXPENCE," PAGE 827.)
ST. NICHOLAS
Vol. XXXIX
JULY, 1912
No. 9
FOR THE PENNANT
OR, BATTLE-SHIPS AT TARGET-PRACTICE
BY CHARLES B. BREWER
Every boy who reads this might have been rather
angry if he had heard some of the naval officers,
who had been keenly watching the progress of
foreign navies, go to the President several years
ago, and claim that the gunners on our battle-
ships could not shoot.
Some of the ordnance men in the department
probably felt that way about it. At any rate,
they would not believe it. But President Roose-
velt, who knew a good deal about shooting, half-
way believed it, and decided to find out for sure.
He ordered some special tests made to try out
the shooting, and, sure enough, as good shooting
goes, they could n't shoot !
Old methods were quickly and thoroughly
changed. What is known as "continuous aim,"
that is, keeping the guns on the target all the
time, instead of the old method of aiming them
after they were loaded, soon became very popu-
lar. The number of "hits per minute" piled up
so rapidly as to be almost unbelievable. This
was smooth-water shooting, however. So when
shooting in rough water was added to the re-
quirements, the big scores took a tumble. But
the former training had served the men splen-
didly. They had learned how to shoot rapidly.
So, with intense competition, the scores soon be-
gan to grow again. To-day, from what we know
from foreign reports, our shooting is better than
that of any other nation, and, in addition to this,
the distances of the targets are much greater.
Copyright, 191 2, by The Cent
77
Our fine gunners, of whom we have the right
to feel proud, no longer shoot at a bull's-eye.
Like Buffalo Bill, they have moving targets ; and
battle practice, held each April and September, is
as much like a real battle as it is possible to make
it. At night practice, however, the targets are
stationary.
When the fleet goes to battle practice, to the
Southern Drill Grounds, about ioo miles off
Hampton Roads, it separates, for convenience,
into divisions of four battle-ships each. Each
division fires on separate ranges — or firing
courses — about twenty miles apart.
When the signal is received from the flag-ship,
each division starts out in search of the "enemy."
After a division passes a ship known as the
"range vessel," they get their first sight of the
targets. A signal known as "general quarters"
has been sounded on each ship, and every mem-
ber of the ship's company has gone to his as-
signed "battle-station," which is the place to
which he would be assigned in a real engagement.
The firing vessels are not allowed to know the
speed at which the targets are towed, or how far
away they are. This must be mathematically
worked out. The course which must be followed
diverges enough from an exactly parallel course
to that made by the targets to necessitate work-
ing out new ranges every time the guns are fired.
At the battle practices, the ranges are often
about 12,500 yards, or over seven miles — the
URY Co. All rights reserved.
772
FOR THE 1'ENNANT
[July,
longest ever known. Imagine what Nelson, who
sometimes fought with his ship lashed to the
enemy's, would have thought of such ranges !
While the firing is in progress, certain officers,
called "spotters," act as the eyes of the ship.
They are in the "spotters' top" of the "waste-
basket" cage mast, about 120 feet above the wa-
ter. This is purposely placed as high as possible
(the height being limited to that which will pass
under the Brooklyn Bridge), so that the splash
of the projectile, as it hits the water, may be
observed to best advantage, and the gunners, if
necessary, directed by telephone or speaking-tube
to point more accurately for the next shot.
The writer was in one of these tops on the
Michigan (which, later, won the pennant) during
the September practice, and had a wonderful
bird's-eye view of all the guns of the division,
which, in a few minutes' time, fired 100,000
pounds of steel at a speed of thirty times that of
an express-train making sixty miles an hour. To
do this, 50,000 pounds of powder is required.
While we are speaking of weights, it is inter-
esting to know (and few people, even those ac-
customed to dealing with ammunition, have
knowledge of the rule) that the actual weight in
pounds of a projectile is very close to one half
the cube of its diameter. Thus, the actual weight
of a twelve-inch shell is 870 pounds. Applying
the rule, 12x12x12-^-2= 864 pounds. The rule
holds approximately true for all sizes, even clown
to a 0.32 caliber pistol ball weighing but a fifth
of an ounce.
After the first vessels finish firing, the target
screens must be removed and brought on board
the individual ships for the umpires (always vis-
iting officers) to count the hits and send their
reports, through the flag-ship, to Washington.
The shot-up masts of the targets must be replaced
by the "repair-party" from the vessel that did the
shooting ; and, this done, the first vessels to fire
become observers of those that follow. You are
then close enough to see that the tiny speck at
which you have been shooting really has some
size. Yet it is only about one fifth the length of
a battle-ship.
From an observing ship a sublime sight com-
mences when the other ships open fire". A vivid
flash is seen through the heavy atmosphere,
though the firing ship itself is scarcely discernible
at this range of six or seven miles.
Eleven seconds can be timed between the flash
and the arrival of the shell at the target. Bursts
of snow-white mist and sea ("geysers," they are
called) are dashed to the towering height of 200
to 300 feet as the shells hit the water. The be-
lated sound arrives a few seconds later. A sec-
ond, and sometimes a third, smaller burst of mist
can be seen two or three miles beyond, as the
shell ricochets, or rebounds, along the water's
surface in the final stages of its seven-mile jour-
ney before going to its last resting-place.
THE BATTLE-SHIP "MICHIGAN.
igi2.]
OR, BATTLE-SHIPS AT TARGKT-PRACTICE
773
THE "MICHIGAN,
From photograph, copyright, ign, by Enrique Muller.
AT FULL SPEED, FIRING EIGHT TWELVE-INCH GUNS, AT A TARGET 12,000 YARDS DISTANT.
In the ricochet the shell sometimes leaves its
line of flight many degrees, usually to the right,
being thus influenced by the rapid rotation given
it by the rifling of the gun-barrel. For this rea-
son, it is usual for observing vessels to remain
some distance away, unless they are to the left
of the firing vessel.
It seems scarcely credible that the flight of a
twelve-inch shell moving 2800 feet a second can
be followed with the eye, yet it can be so traced
if a position is chosen well in the line of fire. A
position to the rear is doubtless more popular,
but the observers of the test of the dynamite guns
of the old Vesuvius had such faith in the limit
of its reach, that many of them faced the shell
as it was fired. A twelve-inch shell in flight can
also be seen at times from one side, when a
"geyser" from another shot happens to form a
background at the appropriate instant.
Many things are happening during the eleven
seconds that the shell is in flight. So perfectly
have the ammunition parties and the gun crews
been drilled that the heavy twelve-inch gun is
almost ready to fire again before its former shell
has landed; and some of the crack crews of the
seven-inch guns, which can be loaded more rap-
idly, actually had tzvo shells in flight at the same
time. The handling and loading of the charge for
a twelve-inch gun is as pretty a piece of clock-
work as could be done by human hands. It takes
more than a score of men to supply and feed its
shell and its four bags of powder. Each of these
men has a particular part of the job to do, and,
like a foot-ball player, has learned to do it just at
the right moment and in the shortest possible
time. Strength is required as well as skill, for
one load weighs over half a ton, and must be
raised from the handling room to the turret, a
height of forty or fifty feet.
During the same period that the ammunition
and gun crews are handling and loading the pow-
der and shell, the pointers and trainers are "get-
ting on" the target. This seems almost a super-
human task ; for the ship, by rolling and pitch-
ing, and steaming ahead at the same time, is
given a peculiar zigzag or "corkscrew" motion,
and the target has also had time, while the shell
is in flight, to move 100 feet and change its posi-
tion vertically ten feet with one wave, and start
in the opposite direction on the next. Reference
to the skill of these men means "skill" in its
broadest sense.
Target-practice, like everything else in this era
of progress, has been a development. Many
774
FOR THE PENNANT
[July,
SPLASHES OK THE
raph, copyright, by Enrique Mitller.
Michigan's" twelve-inch shells
problems had to be solved and all sorts of ob-
stacles overcome by long experience, before four
immense crewless and rudderless target hulks
could be successfully operated at a speed which
would faithfully represent cruising vessels.
It has been but a few years since the target
consisted of a stationary piece of triangular can-
vas, ten feet high, stretched between two masts,
and intended only as an aiming point. Observers
near the target would note the splashes and calcu-
late how many shots would have been "hits" had
the targets been 25 feet by 100 feet. Actual
holes in this target were not looked for.
On a recent practice, an old boatswain on the
Michigan, who had served on the Kentucky, told
me how, at her early practices, the latter vessel
had used an island for a target. The island was
inhabited by gulls. If the shot struck anywhere
From photograph, copyright, by H. K. Jackson.
SHELLS FROM A SHIP SEVEN MILES DISTANT ARRIVING AT THE TARGETS.
igi2.]
OR, BATTLE-SHIPS AT TARGET-PRACTICE
775
on the island, the gulls would fly up. If they
were seen to rise, the shot was counted a "hit."
Since that time our gunners have made mar-
velous strides. As fast as they advanced in skill,
new conditions were prescribed and the distances
increased. The best thought throughout the ser-
vice has been put on the subject. Training has
been incessant, and the most advanced methods
have been introduced to attain accurate aim and
rapidity of fire.
Actual conditions are imitated, as far as prac-
ticable, to prevent false training even in the drill
practice. The "dummy" ammunition is made just
the proper shape and weight. One end of the
powder bag is even painted red to accustom the
teams to keep the ignition powder, or fast-burn-
ing end of the bag, next to the primer, though
both kinds of powder used at drill practice are
actually represented by a harmless bag of beans.
The pointers and trainers are drilled even in
port with actual firing. The miniature target is
ingeniously rigged on a spar a few feet away, to
move with the gun, and presents itself whichever
way the gun is trained. The firing is done with
a rifle which shoots a ball the size of a pea. This
rifle is rigged sometimes inside and sometimes
key is pressed, a gun is always actually fired.
The crack of a rifle is heard, however, instead of
From photograph by Brown.
A TARGET UNDER A STRANGE LIGHT.
the roar of its big brother. Effective prelimi-
nary training is thus secured and a great saving
effected, for the ammunition to fire a twelve-inch
gun costs $360, and the gun generally requires
From photograph by Brown.
FIRING A BROADSIDE.
outside the bore of the large gun, yet always ar- reboring after about 100 shots. The ammunition
ranged to move and point with it. Thus when of the new fourteen-inch guns for the New York
the pointers and trainers are "on" and the firing and Texas, now building, will cost $750 per shot.
776
FOR THE PENNANT
[July,
Th
grate
e victory at Santiago was complete, and a changed as to its fundamentals since men began to fight on
ful country will never minimize the work Iand or sea- The PurP°se is- with a stronger force, to
overwhelm the weaker opposing
fleet ; to strike first, hardest, and
quickest. It was Goliath's idea
to pick off the Israelites one by
one, and a modern pugilist could
defeat a hundred men if they
charged him singly, and he could
down the first before a second
came up. ... A battle-ship
steaming as fast as any rivals,
bringing more guns into action
than any rival, hitting an enemy
at seven miles, could destroy the
whole of an opposing fleet one
by one, even as the pugilist
would take the lighter weights
one by one. But the horse-
trotting, fire-fighting, American
stop-watch practice is also in the
Navy, and it was realized that if
these big guns could be fired four
times as fast, it would be very
nearly the same as having four
times as many guns, or four times
as many dreadnoughts ; and also
that if the skill of aim could be
increased fourfold, if four shots
would reach the target as com-
pared with one in the older
From photograph by H. R. Jackson.
AFTER TURRET OF THE "NEBRASKA," WHICH HOLDS
THE RECORD OF TWENTY SHOTS, TWENTY HITS IN
TWO MINUTES, FIFTY-FOUR SECONDS.
of the men who fought and won that famous and
effective sea-fight. At that battle, however, the
efficiency of our gunners was only from two to
four per cent, of the shots fired. We cannot but
feel gratified, therefore, to know that the effi-
ciency of our marksmen has increased over a
thousand per cent, since that time.
Percentages for battle practice are not made
public. In elementary practice the men are al-
lowed prize-money. This will average about $10
per man, but has run up as high as $125 in an
individual case. Prize-money is not allowed for
battle practice. The trophy which the successful
individual can win is a small pennant, intrinsi-
cally worth about five cents. Yet the honor of
possessing' this bit of cloth is such that an enor-
mous interest is manifested by the men. They
have been quick to appreciate the difference be-
tween winning a game — a contest— and winning
out in actual test under battle conditions.
Mr. Harrington Emerson, writing in "The En-
gineering Magazine" on another subject, recently
paid a great compliment to the American Navy
in the following words :
Probably the most marvelous and valuable example of
standardized operations anywhere in the world is on our
American fleets in battle practice. The art of war has not
From photograph, copyright, by Enrique
A TUBE TARGET GUN.
practice, one modern Arkansas or IVyoni
twelve-inch guns firing four times as fast
nig, w
and h
ith twelve
ittin" four
IQ1J.]
OR, BATTLE-SHIPS AT TARGET-PRACTICE
777
times as often, will, for the time being at least, be sixteen
times as effective. . . .
I have also watched diminutive and juvenile Igorrote
savages shoot dimes from a forked stick at sixty feet with
bow and arrow. The Igorrotes show us the beginning of
offensive skill; modern American battle-ship target-
practice shows us the highest speed, accuracy, and dis-
tance yet attained, and we may not doubt that our present
achievement is but a step in man's ultimate achievement.
A requirement which will be far-reaching in its
importance in advancing the Navy even beyond
the state referred to by Mr. Emerson, was added
winter before last by the Secretary of the Navy
for succeeding battle practices. Thereafter the
chusetts, on August 15, 191 1, in the presence of
the whole Atlantic fleet, to be held by her for the
year ending June 30, 19 12. The pennant, red in
color, with a black ball in the center, was hoisted
to the foretop on that date. It had been made by
the U. S. S. Maryland of the Pacific fleet, which
recognized the marked efficiency of her success-
ful competitor, and at her own expense sent an
enlisted man across the continent to deliver this
silk battle efficiency pennant to the Michigan.
The magnificent performance of the Michigan was
graciously recognized by President Taft in the
following letter to her captain, now a rear-admiral :
From photograph by Herbert
COUNTING THE HITS
final battle efficiency was to mean both gunnery
and engineering efficiency, and the ability of the
vessel's crew to keep up their own repairs. Thus
the efficiency of the ship in its entirety becomes
of first importance to every member of its com-
pany, from the captain down to the coal-passer
and the mess-boy handling ammunition in the
magazine ; and even greater results may be looked
for than those already accomplished. The pen-
nant which was then offered to the most efficient
vessel, in addition to the trophy which goes to the
individual, was for the first time won by the Mich-
igan, a splendid ship and our first dreadnought.
This highest honor in the Navy that can be won
by a ship, the battle efficiency pennant, which now
flies from the Michigan's foretop, was, for her
success, awarded to her at Provincetown, Massa-
N A TARGET SCKEEN.
The White House,
Washington, D. C, August 9, 191 1.
My Dear Captain : As the U. S. S. MicJiigan under your
command, in competition with all the other battle-ships of
the Navy, has obtained the highest combined final merit
in gunnery and engineering for the year ending June 30,
191 1, and has been awarded the battle efficiency pennant,
I take great pleasure, as the commander-in-chief of the
Navy, in announcing this award to you ; and I wish to
commend you and the officers and men of the U. S. S.
Michigan for the zealous and efficient handling of all the
elements, the proper coordination of which has made the
Michigan, with the material placed at her disposal, the
most efficient battle-ship of the Navy in guarding the
country's interests.
I have directed my naval aide, Lieutenant-Commander
Palmer, director of target-practice and engineering compe-
titions, to deliver this letter to you in person.
Sincerely yours,
(Signed) Wm. H. Taft.
Captain N. R. Usher, U. S. N., commanding U. S. S
Michigan, Provincetown, Mass.
A BRAVE LITTLL MOTOR
&y rLORA MACDONALD
*" t $■•
*
>
With a wonderful burst of golden song, she wel-
comed me from the top of the summer-house,
that first morning at Sachem ; and all through my
busy day of making the house homey before the
boys arrived, I was conscious of that glorious
accompaniment.
Often I stopped to listen, that I might not lose
a note of the music she gave to me so generously.
Sometimes she would sing from the veranda rail,
sending her trills in through the open window like
the delicate notes of some rare instrument ; some-
times she preferred a top branch of the scrub
cedar, pouring out her song in bursts of clearest
melody that seemed to cease only when it reached
the vast blue dome above ; and when at sunset
I came out onto the rocks to rest, she perched
sociably near and sang to me her bird-song of the
sea. The next day was Fourth of July.
The boys came bringing fireworks and full of
excited plans for celebrating the wonderful day.
The song-sparrow hopped curiously about as
targets were fastened in between the rocks and
holders for the huge crackers were set up. The
cottage itself was built upon the rocks, that ex-
tended some distance out into the water on three
sides. The other side was green lawn to the
white, sandy road. Chicory, wild rose, and bay
bush grew wherever there was a bit of sod on
which to root.
Fourth of July morning broke perfectly. A
soft south wind came in on the new tide from
Long Island shore. The boys were up and sa-
luted the sun as he peeped up over the rim of the
sea behind Falkner's. Then pandemonium reigned.
So great was the noise and confusion the big
cannon crackers made, they seemed to fairly
shake the rocks. Suddenly I was conscious,
above it all, of the pure, sweet notes of the song-
sparrow. She must have been singing for some
time before I noticed her. Stepping out onto the
veranda, there she was, not safely perched on the
summer-house, but right in the midst of the noise.
"Mother, watch this little bird," Jack called
when he saw me. "She just sings at every ex-
plosion. She does n't seem afraid at all."
As Jack spoke, he touched off a big cracker,
running a safe distance from it as it exploded.
The song-sparrow perched on a rock only a short
distance away. When the deafening explosion
came, she simply flew to another rock, then burst
into volumes of wonderful song.
"She does that every time, Mother," Jack in-
formed me. "Look now, when we fire the gun
at the target."
I looked, filled with deep concern, as the sharp
cracks of the cartridges cut the air all about her ;
but not once did she show actual fear. Only, after
every explosion, she sang her splendid song.
All the morning the firing went on, until the
rocks looked as if a battle had been fought upon
them. Still never once did the little brown bird
cease to sing, neither did she leave the rocks, as
far as I could see, to seek the least refreshment.
After lunch the boys went over to the club-
house, and the place was quiet again.
Curious to learn, if possible, what had held the
bird so persistently to those rocks, I began search-
ing cracks and crevices. For a while I found
nothing, and the song-sparrow herself, flying
from rock to rock, only misled me. But finally
a bunch of chicory, growing on a ledge of earth
that formed a bit of bank beneath it, attracted my
attention. And there, in a tiny nest, fastened se-
curely to the clay, I discovered five gray babies.
My eyes suddenly grew dim as I realized that
they had been there all during the terrific firing
above them, comforted only by the burst of mo-
ther song, the bravest song that ever left a bird's
throat. Dozens of times she had risked her little
life, and had borne the fright of the noise, that
she might be near to tell her babies not to be
afraid. For as long as the mother bird sang her
brave, beautiful song, they knew all was well.
With swelling heart I looked out over the Sachem
Sea. Surely no soldier on the Gettysburg field
stood more bravely for
his country, nor did
Joan of Arc ride more
fearlessly before the
armies of the French,
than did the song-spar-
row of Sachem sing to
her little family that
Fourth of July day.
778
From a Copley print, copyright, 1908, by Curtis & Cameron, publishers, Boston.
THE PERSIAN KITTEN. PAINTED BY LOUISE COX.
DOROTHY OF SALEM TOWN
:, : A ■
.*»■
\ mm
BY ALIX THORN
Dorothy of Salem town, from her corner,
long ago.
Watched the stately gentlefolk tread the minuet
so slow ;
Lustrous gowns a-sweeping wide, powdered
gallants stepping high ;
Polished floors, and candlegleams yellow as the
sunset sky.
Dorothy of Salem town saw the narrow streets
run down
Till they met the waters blue and the wharves all
warped and brown ;
Saw the roses rioting, fountains leaping, sun-
dials gray ;
Wore her sober little gowns, worked her sampler,
every day.
780
DOROTHY OF SALEM TOWN
781
Dorothy of Salem town saw the village,
legends say,
Through her tears, one April morn, in the
distance fade away.
Did she sigh, the gentle bride, for her tranquil
girlhood's hours?
For the hedges, for the sea, for her garden gay
with flowers?
Dorothy of Salem town, yet her presence haunts
the air,
In the rooms she knew and loved seems to linger
young and fair ;
Curious travelers of to-day wander through her
home at will —
See ! from out her tarnished frame, Dorothy is
watching still !
<"W>
VfS
THE FOURTH OF tJULY REGATTA
by D-KStevens
js??-
sJT
The one great day that the Be-Ba-Bo
Holds high in his estimation,
Is the Glorious Fourth, with the torpedo,
The squib to light, and the horn to blow,
In the annual celebration.
Well, the Fourth which I have now in mind
Was a rather strenuous matter,
For the Sports Committee was forced to find
Some big event of a novel kind ;
And they hit on a Grand Regatta.
They had two excellent rowing crews,
I 've heard, though I never have seen them,
So nearly alike it was hard to choose:
The "Resolute Reds" and the "Baby Blues"-
But only one boat between them!
782
THE FOURTH OF JULY REGATTA
783
Yet, nevertheless, it was carried by vote
To engage in the competition;
For they all declared it was worthy of note
That to race two crews in the very same boat
Was a singular exhibition.
gatta!
Well, the hour arrived, and the crowd did, too,—
They are all quite fond of racing ;
Each end of the boat had a dauntless crew,
The front being held by the Baby Blue,
Which the Resolute Red sat facing.
When the pistol popped, 't was a glorious sight,
For they all got away together ;
Their form was unimpeachable, quite,
For though they pulled with a terrible might,
They never forgot to feather.
1911
784
BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES
[July,
Now the Blues were rowing, of course, one way,
And the Reds in the other direction ;
And the Be-Ba-Boes, I will venture to say,
Had quite the most sensational day
Within their recollection.
For the Resolute Reds appeared at first
Advantage to be gaining,
When the Blues made a very spectacular burst,
And the case was forthwith quite reversed —
'T was remarkably entertaining !
Well, it finally came to a tug of war,
And neither crew could mend it ;
When all of a sudden the people saw
That in case it continued to be a draw,
There would be no way to end it !
Dalan &
1311
1912.]
THE FOURTH OF JULY REGATTA
785
For, of course, the Reds, you understand,
Were the kind that yielded never ;
It was equally true, on the other hand,
That the Baby Blues — intrepid band! —
Would keep right on forever.
The committee looked extremely blank,
Their prestige much diminished;
When suddenly both crews gave a yank—
The boat just parted in two — and sank!-
And the famous race was finished!
But the Be-Ba-Boes to a man agree,
And they could n't say it flatter,
That in future they 'd prefer to see
Decidedly less of novelty —
And rather more regatta!
Vol. XXXIX.— 99.
FRONT OF THE GENERAL KNOX HEADQUARTERS HOUSE.
A RELIC OF THE REVOLUTION
BY EVERETT McNEIL
WITH PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR
One of the most interesting old houses that time
has spared us from the days of our Revolutionary
fathers is the General Knox Headquarters House,
situated near the little village of Vail Gate, some
five miles southwest of Newburg, New York.
The house was built about the year 1734, by John
ifiij
THE EAST END OF THE HOUSE.
Ellison, and was still the property of the Ellisons
at the time of the Revolution. Washington and
his army were in camp near there for many
months during the last years of the war; and,
as a consequence, this house was made the mili-
tary headquarters, at different times, of three of
his generals, Greene, Gates, and Knox. General
Knox occupied the house for a longer period
than did either of the other two generals, and
therefore it is to-day known
as the General Knox Head-
quarters House. General
Knox was Washington's chief
of artillery during the war,
and one of his favorite offi-
cers ; consequently, while he
made his headquarters there,
Washington was a frequent
visitor at the house, along
with Lafayette, Rochambeau,
and others who helped to
make the history of our
country.
For many years this old
house possessed a unique
and most interesting me-
mento of Revolutionary days
— a pane of glass, in one of its windows, on
which a French officer had scratched, with the
diamond of his ring:, the names of three belles
786
A RELIC OF THE REVOLUTION
787
of that clay; but, unfortunately, this pane of one of Lafayette's French officers, were standing
glass was removed from the house by a former in a little group together.
owner, so that this curious and interesting sou- "The rooms are so warm !" said Gitty Wyn-
venir of the past cannot now be seen in its proper koop. "Let us try to find some cooler place."
setting. Benson John Loss-
ing, the historian, tells of
visiting this old house in
1848, and of finding the
pane of glass still in the
window, with the three
names showing as plainly
as when cut with the dia-
mond of the French officer's
ring. The curious will find
facsimiles of the names
printed in his "Pictorial
Field-book of the Revolu-
tion."
The story of how the names
came to be scratched on the
pane of glass is interest-
ing and worth repeating.
While General Knox had
his headquarters here, Lucy
Knox, his beautiful wife,
the dullness of the season, gave a grand ball in
honor of Washington and his generals. The ball
was opened by Washington himself, with pretty
Maria Golden, one of the belles of the occasion.
wishing' to enliven
SHOWING THE SOLID STONEWORK.
"Good !" declared Maria Colden, laughing. "A
full moon shines in the sky. Let us sit by the
window and watch it."
Accordingly the three couples made their way
to one that looked out toward the west.
THE BACK OF THE HOUSE, SHOWING THE LONG, SLOPING ROOF WITH TWO CURIOUS WINDOWS CUT IN ITS APEX.
Later in the evening, Maria Colden and her two "Of a surety this has been a most delightsome
friends, Gitty Wynkoop and Sally Jansen, and evening !" Maria Colden sighed, as she seated her-
their gallants, a couple of American' officers and self on the wide sill of the window. "Never did
788
A RELIC OF THE REVOLUTION
[July,
I dream of such an honor as having our great
General Washington for a partner ! Oh, but is n't
he a wondrous man ! I do not wonder there be
some who think him almost more than mortal.
Truly I could not have felt more awed had I
been treading the measure with an archangel !"
"And truly I would not care to dance with an
THE PARLOR FIREPLACE, ABOVE WHICH WERE THE
SECRET PANELS.
archangel, howsoever great the honor might be !"
laughed Gitty Wynkoop, with just a little touch
of envy in her voice. "I would prefer the colonel
here," and she glanced archly at her escort.
"The night, indeed, has been one of great
pleasure," and the eyes of the French officer
rested with admiration on the face of his com-
panion. "Already has its memory been written
deep in my heart," and he bowed low to the fair
Maria. "But I would leave here some souvenir
of this delightful hour, something that will tell
to aftertimes that this room and this hour were
graced by the presence of three most beauteous
and winsome maidens. Ladies, allow me," and
the courtly Frenchman rose from the window-
sill, where he had been sitting by the side of
Maria Colden, and, bowing to each girl in turn,
slipped a diamond ring from his finger and turned
to the window. "Allow me to inscribe here, on
this pane of glass, the names that this evening
has cut deep in our hearts !" and, pressing the
sharp edge of the diamond to the glass, he slowly
scratched the names of the three girls, Maria
Colden, Gitty Wynkoop, and Sally Jansen, while
the girls joked merrily over the awkwardness of
his writing.
One must regret the removal of this unique
and interesting souvenir of the past from the
house where the gallant French officer made it,
on that far-off night when Lucy Knox gave her
great ball in honor of Washington and his
generals.
But the General Knox Headquarters House
has an interest all its own, aside from its his-
torical associations.
In one room there is a secret treasure-vault
dug under the floor, with a carefully concealed
trap-door opening down into it. The hole is large
enough for several men to hide in it, and is sup-
posed to have been made during Revolutionary
times to hide the valuables of the house, or, on a
pinch, to conceal an American or two, in case of
a sudden raid by the British soldiers.
In another room there are two small closets,
made in the chimney above the fireplace and con-
cealed by panels, in every way like the others
with which the wall above the fireplace is faced,
except that they now have keyholes and hinges.
In former times they are supposed to have been
locked and opened by the pressure of secret
springs. They must then have looked exactly
like the other panels, and no one could have told
that there were secret recesses behind them.
Valuable papers and jewels might have been hid-
den in them in time of need.
Another interesting feature of the old house is
found in the large hall that runs directly through
the middle of the main building. A thick stone
partition, with a narrow door passing through it,
divides this hall, midway, into two parts ; and
from the front part a stairway leads to the upper
rooms of the house. At the first landing on these
stairs, where they make a turn, is a large square
hole cut through the thick wall of the partition
and looking very much like the embrasure of a
fort; and probably this is what it was intended
for— an embrasure through which the Americans
igi2.]
A RELIC OF THE REVOLUTION
789
could fire on the Indians or other enemies, should
they attack the house and break in the door at
either end of the hall. At least it would answer
such a purpose very well; and there seems to be
no need of it for either light or ventilation.
Running from the second floor to the garret in
the main building is another curiosity, a very
queerly constructed stairway, known as the
witches' stairway, possibly because the stairs go
almost straight up, and yet one can walk up them
quite easily without the aid of the hands. The
steps are made in the form of right-angled tri-
angles so placed on alternate sides of the steep,
narrow, box-like stairway as to enable one to
walk up the stairs by swinging the feet alter-
nately upward, from the step below to the step
above on the opposite side. A very convenient
arrangement, where the stairs must occupy little
space ; but it is almost like a ladder.
The General Knox Headquarters House, like
all old houses, has its legends, weird and other-
wise. From one of its rooms, in Revolutionary
times, a young girl is said to have disappeared
one dark night, never again to be seen alive, and
this room is now declared to be haunted by her
uneasy spirit. There is also a legend of a secret
passage running from the old house to Mur-
derer's Creek, a quarter of a mile away, and of a
buried treasure ; but the secret tunnel appears
hardly probable on account of the rocky nature
of the ground through which it would have had
to be dug, and the buried treasure has never yet
been found.
Surely this quaint old house, that tells so much
of the past and how the people of that past lived,
should be held in remembrance, and kept as a
hallowed shrine, where the young and the old
may come to have their thoughts turned anew to
the great and good men it once sheltered, and to
whom we, who live now, owe so much.
THE OLD BRIDGE OVER SILVER STREAM, NEAR THE KNOX HEADQUARTERS HOUSE.
General Washington and other Revolutionary heroes must often have crossed this bridge.
THE WRONG SIDE
BY ALICE E. ALLEN
In his bed, fully dressed, on a day warm and fine,
I found little Ted, and the clock had struck nine !
'Why," I cried, "Teddy, dear, are you ill, little
man?
If not, hurry down just as soon as you can !"
"I was cross when I got up," said queer little Ted,
"They said I jumped out of the wrong side of bed ;
So I came back again just as quick as I could, —
I '11 get out on the right side — and then I '11 be
good !"
THE LADY OF THE LANE
BY FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT
Author of "The Forest Castaways"
Chapter XV
ROY S RETURN
As the opening day of school approached, Eliza-
beth grew more and more serious. She wanted
to go back with Nance and begin again. For the
first time in her life, she felt a desire to learn
and to do for the sake of learning and doing,
whereas, the year before, what little incentive she
had sprang from pride alone. It was only the
fear of appearing stupid that had made her study
at all. But now, having proven her power in one
direction, her ambition had been roused to excel
in others.
The semi-victory over Nance in tennis brought
it to a head. She laughed gaily to herself as she
realized the surprise to her old friends this new
acquisition of hers would be. She had made
Nance promise not to breathe a word to any one
of their practice during the summer. She laid
awake nights picturing to herself how the girls
would smile when she went upon the court, and
the amazement which would follow should she
beat one after another of the minor players.
And she knew she could beat them. At times she
felt as though she could beat even Nance— per-
haps even Miss Winthrop. Ah, if she could win
a game against Miss Winthrop !
And, after all, there was a good spirit back of
these dreams. It was no self glorification she
sought. Rather she seized upon the opportunity
as a chance to redeem herself. She saw her-
self now as others had seen her, and it brought
the hot color to her face. If they had looked
upon her as proud and indolent, it had been her
own fault. The spring tournament had roused
her somewhat, but it was the inspiration of Mrs.
Trumbull and the house by the lane that had
completed the work. One fared ill in attempting
the role of pretty incompetence before Mrs.
Trumbull.
Several times she was upon the point of asking
her father to allow her to return to school, but in
the end her pride checked her. It would n't be
worth much coming that way. She must win the
right to go back, as she wished to win other
things, by her own ability.
Three days before school was to open, her
father dropped in one evening for supper. He
watched her with unusual^ keenness as she pre-
sided at the table, and later as, with Mrs. Trum-
bull, she made the dining-room and kitchen tidy
for the night. Even after they had gone into the
sitting-room, he said nothing until he was about
to leave. Then he asked, as casually as though it
were an every-day matter :
"Elizabeth, would you like to go back to school
this fall?"
"Daddy !" she exclaimed.
"I 've had a talk with Miss Grimshawe, and
I 've told her that it 's the Lady of the Lane and
not the Lady of 'The Towers' I wish to enroll.
Am I right ?"
Elizabeth for a moment hung her head. The
comparison brought back very vividly that first
episode, now almost forgotten.
"Look up, my daughter," said Mr. Churchill.
"I want you to understand that I 'm very proud
of you !"
Mrs. Trumbull rose and placed her arm about
the drooping figure.
"I won't have her shamed by no one," she
asserted aggressively. "If Miss Grimshawe or
any one else dares—"
"But Miss Grimshawe wants her very much,"
he said reassuringly to Mrs. Trumbull.
He turned to his daughter.
"I think that, in spite of everything, she has a
warm place in her heart for you, Elizabeth."
"She 'd better have," Mrs. Trumbull warned.
"What do you say, Beth?"
"I '11 be very, very glad to go back, Daddy !"
she exclaimed. "Only— it does n't mean giving
up the home, does it?"
"It would hurt me very much if you wanted to
give up that," he answered.
And so, after Elizabeth had cried a moment on
her father's shoulder, and Mrs. Trumbull was
through sputtering about Miss Grimshawe, the
matter was all settled.
"I suppose you will need some new clothes,
Beth," said her father. "Perhaps Mrs. Trumbull
had better go into town with you to-morrow and
help you pick out what you need."
Elizabeth finished her shopping in a very few
hours, where, a year ago, it would have taken her
several days. Somehow gowns did not seem to
count for so much now. What she did select
she chose with her usual good taste.
She told the news to Nance when the latter
came that afternoon, and Nance was almost as
delighted about it as Elizabeth herself.
790
THE LADY OF THE LANE
791
"Then you '11 enter the tournament, after all !" "I know," Nance answered slowly. "But-
exclaimed Nance, when they had talked over sev- well, there 's no use trying to cross a bridge be-
eral other matters. "But, Beth, I hope you are n't fore we come to it. Anyhow, we must practise
drawn against me in the preliminaries."
"Why not?" asked Elizabeth with a smile.
"Because it 's going to make me feel just as
THE TENNIS GAME. (SEE PAGE 794
bad to beat you, as to be beaten by you. I 've
half a mind to keep out of it this fall."
"Nonsense !" answered Elizabeth. "That would
n't be fair to either of us. I guess we can both
stand a beating now and then, if it comes to that."
hard these next few weeks. Are you too tired
to have a game this afternoon ?"
"Why should I be tired?" asked Elizabeth.
"You said you were shopping all the morning."
Elizabeth made a wry face at the recollection.
792
THE LADY OF THE LANE
[July,
"The first time I ever get tired shopping, I 'm
going to stop doing it," she answered.
"Good !" laughed Nance. "Then come on. Mr.
Crawford won't be here to watch us to-day."
"Did n't you like him ?" asked Beth, as they
started arm in arm for the court.
"Well enough," answered Nance. "He seemed
rather foreign."
But it happened that, even with Mr. Crawford
on the high seas, they did not find themselves
free from interruption. Before the first ball was
served, Elizabeth heard a familiar voice, and
turned to find herself facing Roy Thornton.
Tanned and ruddy, he
strode toward her, with
— first of all— a surprised
greeting to Nance.
"Mrs. Trumbull said
you were up here," he
explained. "I could n't
help coming over, even
though — "
He paused and studied
Elizabeth a moment, as
though to learn just what
her attitude toward him
might be. She looked un-
easy, but he caught a
smile about the corners
of her mouth that en-
couraged him.
" 'Shake, please !' as we
boys say. Won't you ?" he
said, extending his hand;
and she obeyed.
"I 'm glad to see you
again, and I 'm glad to
see you out here."
He crossed to Nance.
"You, too, Nance !" he
added. "You both look as though you had been
at it all summer."
"And you had a pleasant, summer?" Elizabeth
asked, anxious to change the subject.
"Fine !" he answered enthusiastically. "Wen-
ham, Harden, and I took a walking trip through
New England. We covered hundreds of miles."
"That must have been good fun," said Nance.
"Great ! We started without a cent, and worked
our way — just to see if we could do it. But— ex-
cuse me ! I 'm interrupting your game ; I '11
watch a minute, if I may. Do go on !"
"I 'd rather hear more about your trip," Eliza-
beth said hastily. "Would n't you, Nance?"
Nance, understanding Elizabeth's motive in not
wishing to play before Roy, nodded. But the
latter would not hear of their giving up the game.
"If you won't play, I '11 go," he said decidedly.
"The story can wait, but you are n't always sure
of such tennis weather as this."
There seemed to be no alternative. They had
either to play or let him go, so Elizabeth reluc-
tantly picked up the balls. While doing this, how-
ever, she found a chance to whisper to Nance :
"Don't you dare speak, no matter how badly I
play !"
ELIZABETH GOES SHOPPING. (SEE PAGE 790
Elizabeth took her position, and with an awk-
ward swoop of her racket, sent the first ball spin-
ning twenty feet out of the court. The next one
she served into the net. She made herself as
awkward as possible, and, when it came time for
Nance to serve, acted just as ridiculously in try-
ing to return the ball. Nance began to laugh,
and soon reached a point where she could not
control herself. As a result, she played about as
badly as Elizabeth.
"Oh, look here, Beth," protested Roy, "take
things easier."
This was just after she had run under a gentle
lob from Nance, missing it entirely.
But Elizabeth was able to keep up the farce no
longer. "I don't feel much like playing to-day,"
she said. "I 'm not doing- at all well."
1912.]
"Oh, you must n't get discouraged, Beth ! ' Roy
said seriously. "I wish you 'd let me come up
and play with you some day."
"I 'm afraid I 'd give you as dull a game as
poor Nance has had to endure," she replied.
"We '11 arrange for it some Saturday, shall
we?"
"I '11 see," she answered, without committing
herself. "But I expect to be very busy. School
begins Monday, and that, with my housework—"
"You 're going back to school ?" he exclaimed.
She nodded, though her cheeks turned scarlet,
for a second, at the word "back."
"Good ! that 's great !" he went on, and added in
explanation, "somehow it made you seem awfully
grown up, not being in school."
The three returned to the house by the lane,
and there Roy was persuaded to tell more of his
summer adventures.
"We wanted to see if we could n't be as good
pioneers as our great-grandfathers were," he
said, "so we started from Portland to find out
just how far we could work our way. It was
easy enough. We chopped wood, helped with
the haying, and lived like kings. I guess we could
have kept on going clear to the Pacific Ocean, if
we 'd had time."
"I '11 wager you could," agreed Mrs. Trumbull.
But it was only bit by bit that he was induced
to tell the interesting details of the experiment.
In fact, they kept cropping out all winter.
"Don't forget about the tennis game," he said,
as he was leaving.
"Oh, Beth !" exclaimed Nance, when they were
alone, "I— I tried not to laugh."
"I don't know that it was a very nice thing to
do," Elizabeth apologized, "but I did n't want to
give away my secret just then. And I won't play
with him until after the tournament."
"I would n't, if I wanted to keep the secret,"
laughed Nance. "I don't believe you could play
so outrageously a second time."
In many ways, Elizabeth dreaded the ordeal of
that first day at school, but when the time came,
to her surprise she found it no ordeal at all.
Miss Grimshawe greeted her with a cordiality
that, in a moment, effaced all memory of the past.
Neither in word nor manner did she in any way
refer to it. And little Miss Santier actually wept
at sight of Elizabeth.
"Cherie! cherie !" she choked, "the school
was n't the same without you."
And when Elizabeth answered her in very good
French, the little woman was forced once again
to wipe her eyes.
But with the girls it was another matter. There
was a great deal of gossip which, as usual, started
Vol. XXXIX.— ioo.
THE LADY OF THE LANE
793
with the Brookfield pair. The latter, in new
frocks, bought abroad, held their chins high and
vouchsafed Elizabeth nothing but a nod in pass-
ing. It might have hurt had she not known her
chance was coming— a chance which came before
a week had passed, with the opening of the fall
tennis tournament.
Chapter XVI
ELIZABETH PLAYS MISS WINTHROP
When the entries for the tournament were
posted in the school corridor, and Elizabeth
Churchill's name led all the rest, the Brookfield
girls could hardly believe their eyes. But there
was no denying that her name was there, written
in her own firm, round handwriting. They called
the attention of several other girls to the strange
fact, whereupon there followed much giggling.
"It will be worth watching; won't it, Jane?"
Helen observed.
"Why, she can't play at all; can she, Helen?"
"I call it very bold of her even to try," an-
swered Helen.
But if they were surprised that Elizabeth was ■
daring enough to enter the contest, their astonish-
ment knew no bounds when, after the drawing,
it was found that she was pitted in the prelim-
inaries against no less a player than Miss Win-
throp herself, and intended to fight it out.
"I heard her say so !" exclaimed Helen to an
excited group of eager inquirers. "I was standing-
close by when Miss Winthrop came up and asked
her if she did n't mean to forfeit the set. And
Elizabeth answered, as cool as you please, 'No, I
mean to play it.' Those were her very words ;
were n't they, Jane?"
Jane nodded.
"And Miss Winthrop turned as red as a beet,
and said she thought Elizabeth might want to
save herself the trouble."
"And Elizabeth said, 'No trouble at all,' " put
in Jane.
"Just like that," nodded Helen. " 'It 's no
trouble at all, Miss Winthrop.' "
A chorus of exclamations and giggles greeted
this, interrupted by the arrival of Nance at the
bulletin board. As the latter saw the result of
the drawing, her face grew serious.
"What do you think of that, Nance?" de-
manded Helen.
"Of what?" answered Nance.
"Why, of Elizabeth Churchill daring to play
Miss Winthrop. She refused to forfeit the set,
you know."
"I 'd be ashamed of her if she did," answered
Nance, her spirit and her color rising.
794
THE LADY OF THE LANE
[July,
"You don't mean to say she has a chance?"
exclaimed Helen.
"You can tell better after the game," replied
Nance, hurrying away. She found Elizabeth at
her desk, reviewing her morning lessons.
"It 's hard luck, Beth," she said in a whisper.
"What is?" demanded Elizabeth.
"Drawing Miss Winthrop at the start."
"Pooh ! I don't mind at all," Elizabeth an-
swered with a smile. "Do you know she wanted
me to back out?"
"I know. Helen is spreading it all over the
school."
"She is, is she?" answered Elizabeth, her lips
growing firm. Then she laughed. "All right.
Just you wait, Nance ! Honestly, I think I can
play better against Miss Winthrop than against
any one in school. I '11 be fresh and sure of my-
self, and she '11 be a little over-confident. You
see if she is n't. I 'd rather play her than you.
And I '11 beat her."
"Good ! good !" exclaimed Nance. "Oh, Beth,
but the game will be worth seeing!"
When Roy heard the news, he came straight
over to the little house by the lane.
"They tell me you drew Miss Winthrop in the
preliminaries, Beth, and that you are going to
play her!" he exclaimed excitedly.
"Why not?" asked Elizabeth, with a smile.
"My stars, but you 're game !" he cried de-
lightedly.
"Is n't it what you would do?" she asked.
"Every time !" he answered. "I don't believe
in being whipped before you are— no matter what
the odds. But, Beth, to-day is Monday and the
tournament is n't until Saturday. If you could
get in a little practice before then."
"I shall," she answered coolly. "Nance has
promised to come over every afternoon."
"Then you don't want me?" he asked.
"Thank you, Roy. It is good of you to offer,
but I 've been playing with Nance all summer,
you know."
"Yes, I know," he answered, somewhat crest-
fallen.
"And I really can play better than I did the
other day," she assured him.
"I want you to do your best, Beth," he replied
seriously, and as though he did not have much
confidence in that statement.
"I '11 do that, anyhow," she answered lightly.
"You '11 be at the game?"
"Helen Brookfield invited me," he answered
significantly.
Elizabeth flushed.
"And Wenham and Harden are coming down
for over Sunday with me. But, Beth—"
"Yes," said Elizabeth as he hesitated.
"I won't come if you 'd rather I would n't."
"You 're afraid I may disgrace myself?"
He turned away, more embarrassed than he
had ever been in his life. Then he faced her
again with his hand extended.
"No," he said. "Because I know you '11 do
your best, and when a fellow does that, he 's
done all he can."
"Then you 'd better come," she answered with
a smile.
The day of the tournament turned out to be
fair and crisp — ideal weather for playing. The
whole school was present, for the stand Elizabeth
had taken was the chief topic of discussion
throughout the week. The Brookfield girls ar-
rived late, and took positions on the side-lines
next to Roy and his two friends; but after the
greetings were over, Roy gave his whole atten-
tion to the field and forgot the girls. He was
decidedly worried. Even admitting that Eliza-
beth could play better than he had seen her play,
even admitting the fighting blood in her which
would lead her to play her best, it did n't seem
within the bounds of possibility that she could
offset the 'skill and experience of as clever a
player as Miss Winthrop. And, when the latter
stepped out on the court, he knew that Elizabeth
could expect no mercy. It was certainly plucky
of Beth to stick to her determination to play, but
also, it seemed to Roy, decidedly foolhardy. For
one thing, he knew that, in her first attempt, she
would take a beating very much to heart, and it
might destroy her confidence for a long time to
come. He wished sincerely that she had drawn
a less experienced antagonist.
When Elizabeth appeared, however, he led the
applause, and urged Wenham and Harden to do
their best. The crowd, always, if unconsciously,
in sympathy with the weaker, took it up, and gave
Beth a brave greeting. But if she heard it, she
gave no sign. Her face was tense, and her lips
tightly closed. She showed no trace of nervous-
ness as she took her position, but it was evident
that she was under a strain.
Miss Winthrop won the toss, and chose the
serve, there being no advantage in either court.
She began with a vicious cut that sent the ball
off to one side, where it bounded at a sharp angle.
It was slower and more baffling than anything
Nance served, and bothered Elizabeth. She
missed the first three points, which made the
score forty love.
"Too bad," muttered Roy.
Harden, who had been watching her carefully,
heard him. "She 's studying that out," he said.
"I have a notion she '11 master it in a moment."
1912.]
THE LADY OF THE LANE
795
Elizabeth stepped in a little closer, and nearer
the middle of the court, where she could jump
either to the right or left, the ball having in-
variably struck close to the side-lines. This time
she returned it without, however, a very close
calculation as to direction. Miss Winthrop ran
up to the net and volleyed back, but Elizabeth
was ready, and sent it along the side-lines for a
neat pass.
"Good ! good !" exclaimed Roy, and led a vigor-
ous applause.
Miss Winthrop changed her next serve to a
swift, straight ball, but this was the kind that
Nance had been using largely, so that it was
easier for Elizabeth than the cut. As Miss Win-
throp ran to the net, Elizabeth lobbed the ball
over her head. Miss Winthrop reached it, but,
by that time, Elizabeth herself was at the net and
turned it one side at a sharp angle, thereby win-
ning her second point.
Somewhat nettled, Miss Winthrop returned to
her cutting serve, and succeeded in winning her
final point and the game. But both Miss Win-
throp and the gallery began to realize that this
was not to be quite the farce that both had
anticipated. .
When it came Elizabeth's turn to serve, she
sent a straight line ball, hitting it with a full-arm
swing that gave it great speed. Miss Winthrop
was not looking for this. It sped past her before
she had even swung for it. On the second ball,
she moved farther back, but that time Elizabeth,
with the same motion, served one of her easy
ones, which barely dropped over the net. Once
again Miss Winthrop was taken completely by
surprise. Mortified by having been so deceived,
she lost her head at the next serve, and, swinging
wildly for it, sent it into the net. She did better
on the fourth ball, but, with a pretty return, slow
and accurate, Elizabeth placed the ball just out
of her reach, making the score in games one to
one.
But this was only the beginning of one of the
hardest-fought and most exciting contests that
the school ever witnessed. The experience of
Miss Winthrop helped her to win the first set,
but she was forced to use every trick and every
ounce of strength at her command. And when
she began the second set, it was like having to
begin all over again, for she found her antagonist
just as fresh, just as steady, just as determined
as at the start. Elizabeth was neither disheart-
ened nor excited. She proceeded to take ad-
vantage at once of all she had learned in the first
set, correcting the faults she had then made, and
forcing Miss Winthrop hardest where she had
discovered the latter's weakness. She was
especially successful in teasing her opponent with
slow balls. Miss Winthrop could not resist the
temptation that they offered to attempt kill shots,
and, being accustomed to fast playing, almost in-
variably made a fault. By the middle of the set,
which stood four-two in Elizabeth's favor, the
latter resorted almost wholly to this game, re-
turning the balls slowly, but with rare accuracy
and judgment, and waiting for Miss Winthrop
to beat herself.
Roy fathomed Elizabeth's tactics and glanced
at Harden. The latter nodded his appreciation.
"That 's great head-work," he said.
"And it 's head-work that wins any game !" ex-
claimed Roy. "Miss Winthrop is getting rattled."
It certainly looked that way, and the fact that
she knew that, after all, she was playing with an
inferior player, added to her confusion. In the
last three games, she went to pieces completely,
while Elizabeth, steadily and coolly, took full ad-
vantage of her opponent's slightest faults. The
set went to Elizabeth at six-two.
Roy could hardly contain himself.
"It 's wonderful !" he exclaimed. "I don't
understand how she does it !"
"I think she has been very lucky," suggested
Helen.
"Lucky !" returned Roy, hotly. "There 's no
luck in such playing as th.at ! If there 's any-
thing besides clean tennis, it 's grit !"
For the third and final set, Elizabeth once
again took her place with no trace either of
fatigue or nervousness, while Miss Winthrop
looked decidedly worried and a trifle exhausted.
She was paying for her wildness with both men-
tal and physical fatigue. But now she went to
another extreme and played with such excessive
caution as to place her strictly on the defense.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, in this third set
played more aggressively than she had at any
time before. She used more speed and took
chances as she had* not dared to do before. She
kept Miss Winthrop running from one end of the
court to the other, until the latter was in utter
rout. The set went to Elizabeth at six-two, the
last game being a love game.
Elizabeth hurried up to Miss Winthrop to
shake hands. "I 'm glad I won," she said heart-
ily; "but I 'm sorry you lost."
"I did n't expect to lose, but I know I deserved
to," answered Miss Winthrop.
Roy, Wenham, and Harden rushed up to Eliza-
beth with congratulations, with Nance close at
their heels. Through eyes shining with joy, Eliz-
abeth thanked them in some way, and then, with
Nance's arm about her, sought the club-house.
"Beth, you did wonderfully !" exclaimed Nance.
( To be continued. )
(C>ije Stctry of
^ Mary Stewart
There was once a prince whose robes and mantle
were always of gorgeous, scarlet silks. Upon his
head he wore a crown of rubies, and his golden
belt and sword-hilt flashed with the same splen-
did, red stones. He rode a milk-white horse, and
could be seen miles away, a shining spot of red
and white.
But when the people of his father's kingdom
saw him coming, they ran into their houses, or
hid behind trees; and as he rode proudly up to
the palace, no one cheered him, not even the small
boys. Even his father, the king, was afraid of
him, and his sisters, who were little girls, hid
beneath the table rather than speak to him.
For this Prince Scarlet, as he was called, was
mean and cruel ; his eyes were narrow and sly,
and his voice harsh and loud.
The king knew that he was growing old, and
that soon this son would be king in his place.
That thought worried him a great deal, for he
knew what a wicked ruler the prince would make.
So the old king sent for the forest fairies, who
had always been his friends, begging them to
come and advise him in his trouble.
In answer to his summons, they all flew in at
the palace window one bright morning; and when
they had folded their rainbow wings, and settled
in a circle around the king, they looked very seri-
ous. They knew why they were needed, and the
night before, in the forest, they had discussed the
problem by the light of a full moon. There they
had come to one decision : before Prince Scarlet
became king, he must be taught how to behave in
a kingly fashion.
The king agreed to this. "But how?" he asked
sorrowfully; "how can such a cruel man be
taught ?" And the fairies answered together, "He
must become the bird he is most like." "What is
that?" questioned the king, and the chorus of
fairies answered: "A crow!"
"I do not see how that will teach him any-
thing," moaned the king. But the fairies prom-
ised that if the prince were left entirely in their
hands, they would teach him to wish to be kind;
and the king promised.
When the prince awoke the next morning and
looked for his scarlet clothes, they were gone. In
their place lay a mantle of black feathers. Angry
and puzzled, he kicked it aside, but immediately
it sprang up, and folded itself around him. He
became an ugly crow, and crying, "Caw ! Caw !"
flew right out of the palace window to the forest
beyond.
He was furious; but anger was of no use.
796
'WHEN THE PEOPLE SAW HIM COMING, THEY RAN INTO THEIR HOUSES.'
797
798
THE STORY OF PRINCE SCARLET
[July,
When he tried to shout with rage, the only word
he could utter was a harsh, dismal "Caw !" and
the only motion he could make was a napping of
his wings. Round and round the trees he flew, un-
til he was so tired and miserable that he dropped
upon the ground. But soon he began to think
how hungry he was, and as there was no chance
of a dozen servants bringing him dainty food in
"HE SHIVERED WITH
THE COLD."
golden dishes, as they did
in the palace, he won-
dered how he would find
something to eat.
Then, because he was a
crow, it seemed to him
that nothing in the world
could be as delicious as a
few kernels of raw corn.
Raising his wings, he flew
across the tree-tops to a
corn-field, and was just about to alight and eat
from the ripe ears, when he saw a farmer stand-
ing below pointing a gun straight at him. He
dashed aside just as the gun went "bang!" and
flew quickly back to the deep woods.
Prince Scarlet was now frightened as well as
hungry, two feelings that he had never experi-
enced before ; and as he cowered down upon the
ground, he suddenly thought, "How many times
in my father's kingdom have I seen hungry folks
whom I laughed at ! Did they feel as wretched
as I did when that gun was pointed at me ? How
sorry I am I did not help them !"
At that moment, although Prince Scarlet did
not know it, one of the feathers beneath his wings
turned to a brilliant red.
A very miserable life the prince led for the
next months. Sometimes he found a bite to eat,
often he was driven away by the fear of a gun
or a scarecrow; and at last the cold weather
came. He did not have sense enough to fly south
with the other birds ; perhaps the fairies did not
mean that he should, for the first snow-storm
taught him another lesson. As he ruffled his
black feathers and shivered with the cold, it
flashed across his mind, "How often have I
scoffed at people shivering in rags. Oh, how
sorry I am !"
Then another feather turned scarlet, and the
fairies smiled, and rustled their wings with de-
light.
As the poor crow flew across the snow-covered
fields in search of food, he passed a little girl
crying bitterly. Perching on a tree near by, he
cried, "Caw ! Caw !" which sounded so dismal,
that the child cried harder than ever.
"If only I could sing one sweet note to comfort
the poor little girl !" thought Prince Scarlet, and
at once, all his feathers turned to a gorgeous
scarlet ! He had become the most splendid bird
you have ever seen, a cardinal-bird, and out of
his little throat poured a beautiful, clear song.
The child stopped crying at the sound, and
when she looked up and saw the cheerful red bird
beside, her, she smiled with pleasure.
After that, Prince Scarlet's life was a very
happy one. He sang his ringing song in storm
and sunshine, comforting many who were tired
and sad and sick. And never in his life as a
prince had he been so contented.
The fairies watched him closely, and at the
end of a year, they circled around him as he
perched on the bough of a forest tree, already
covered again with green leaves. "We have
come," they cried, "to give you a wish as a re-
ward for the useful life you are leading."
Do you suppose the scarlet bird wished to be a
prince again ? Not at all ; he had grown to think
first of others.
"I wish," he answered, in his lovely bird voice,
"that in all the dark places beside the road and
on banks of streams, there could be something
as bright and cheerful as my red feathers."
The fairies waved their wands, and among
ferns, bending over brooks and streams, along
bare roadsides, and in dark nooks of the forest,
appeared, — not a red feather, — but a red flower
as brilliant and cheerful as the cardinal-bird.
1912.]
THE STORY OF PRINCE SCARLET
799
"The cardinal-flower will remind many people
of your sweet song," sang the fairies. "And your
wish was such a beautiful one, you may have
another."
"Oh," sighed Prince Scarlet, "there are so
many homes I cannot fly to, so many people who
need my song, can you not send other cheerful
birds to them?"
Again the fairies waved their wands, and in
response a great flock of scarlet birds filled the
air, and flew, singing, across the forest to glad-
den the hearts of many, many people.
"Now for a third wish," cried the fairies, "and
we must tell you, first, that the king, your father,
is too old and feeble to reign any more; the peo-
ple are looking for a new king, and there is strife
and discontent within the kingdom."
"I have but one desire for them," answered
Prince Scarlet. "May they find a king as brave
and faithful as my father !"
Once more the fairies waved their wands, and
in ^n instant the cardinal-bird was flying straight
to the palace. As he reached its long flight of
marble steps, he alighted, and then,— the bird had
gone !
In its place stood a young prince in gorgeous
red robes. Could he be Prince Scarlet? His eyes
were so kind, his mouth so smiling, and his voice
so sweet and ringing, that a crowd of people
gathered around him, crying, "Our King! Our
King !"
And so Prince Scarlet was crowned king ; and
as the golden crown was placed upon his head,
his robes seemed to glow, to flutter, to fill the air
"OUT OF HIS LITTLE THROAT POURED A
BEAUTIFUL SONG."
with a ruby light. "Almost like the wings of a
cardinal-bird !" exclaimed the joyful people.
THE DREAM-SHIP
"Oh, hush, little child, if you want a dream,
You must close your eyes — ah, yes !
For the dream-ship carries a gift for you
More lovely than you could guess ;
Perhaps a moon that will shine all day,
Perhaps a gown of color gay,
Or a queer little fish
In a silver dish-
Sail away, little boat, and away !"
Miriam S. Clark.
A sweet little ship stole up from the South
With a cargo of baby dreams;
Of dolls and kittens and warm little mittens,
And rose-colored peppermint-creams ;
A wee wind wafted it on its way,
And it sailed along, at the end of day,
Down the sleepy streets where the lights were lit,
To leave each child some wonderful bit.
PRESIDENT WASHINGTON AND FLYING
(A true story)
BY MARION FLORENCE LANSING
"What 's this, Grandfather?" asked Robert, ris-
ing from his seat on the floor, and bringing to his
grandfather a folded paper, yellow with age, with
a picture of a balloon on the outside. "It looks
as if it had a story."
Robert and his mother had come to tea, and,
according to an old custom, Robert was rummag-
ing in Grandfather's drawer of keepsakes, with
the understanding that if he found anything that
"had a story," Grandfather would know it and
would tell him about it.
"That?" — Grandfather adjusted his spectacles
and looked at the closely printed page — "I have n't
seen that for years ! You have found something
this time !
"Helen," he continued, calling to the boy's
mother, who was just then passing in the hall,
"did John ever tell you that his grandfather saw
the first successful attempt at flying in America,
and that George Washington was there?"
"Never," said Robert's mother.
"It 's a story ! Come, Mother ! Let 's hear it !"
cried Robert, excitedly. She came gladly, and
sat down by Grandfather, who was poring over
the old paper.
"Yes," said Grandfather, "this is a clipping
from a Philadelphia newspaper giving an account
of the flight. Here is the date, January, 1793,
— that was just before the close of Washington's
first administration, Robert. Congress met in
Philadelphia, then, you know, and all the distin-
guished people of the capital went to see this
Monsieur Blanchard make his exhibition of fly-
ing. How often I have heard Father tell all
about it !"
"But I thought they did n't know how to fly till
just lately," interrupted Robert.
"Not in aeroplanes ; but ballooning had been in-
vented a few years before by another French-
man, named Montgolfier, and every one was
greatly excited over it. The shops of the city
were closed the day the ascent was to be made,
and people came in from all the country round.
Father used to tell how he was awakened at day-
break by the booming of cannon, which was re-
peated every half-hour until ten o'clock, when
the ascent was to be made from the prison court-
yard. That was the only inclosed space in the
city big enough for balloon and spectators."
"And Washington was there?" said Robert's
mother. "It must have been a great occasion."
"Yes, it was really a wonderful event. Mr.
Blanchard was one of the most famous balloon-
ists of the day. He was the first man to cross
the English Channel in the air, and he had made
ascents before all the kings and queens of Eu-
rope. The remarkable thing was that a boy like
MONTGOLFIER S FIRST BALLOON.
From the "Town and Country Magazine," London, 1783.
Father went. As the tickets cost five dollars,
few children could go ; but he was so eager that
the family decided to take him."
"How old was he ?" asked Robert.
' "Ten years old," replied Grandfather. "After-
ward people told him what a distinguished as-
PRESIDENT WASHINGTON AND FLYING
801
sembly of men and women it had been. He then
cared for nothing but the balloon and its operator.
He thought Mr. Blanchard the handsomest man
he had ever seen. He used to tell us just how he
was dressed. He had on a bright blue suit, with
a white, fluted ruffle, and a three-cornered cocked
hat with a huge white plume. He must have had
a Frenchman's fondness for effect, for the bag
of his balloon was of bright yellow silk with
green stripes, and the car which hung below it
was painted light blue with silver spangles. The
bag was about half full of gas when Father got
there, and he watched it fill gradually till it
tugged at its cords like a huge creature trying to
get away. Meanwhile the band played gay music,
and Mr. Blanchard moved about, looking after his
arrangements and greeting distinguished persons.
Some one brought a little black dog and asked
him to take it on the trip to see how it stood the
upper air. Father said he would have given any-
thing in the world to be in that little dog's place,
as Mr. Blanchard took it and lifted it into the car.
"At last the bag was full. The band began a
slow march, and Mr. Blanchard turned to bid
farewell to the audience. Then President Wash-
ington stepped forward and shook hands with
him, presenting him with an official-looking docu-
ment. It was a passport. I see there is a copy
of it here. Do you want to read it, Helen ? The
print is too fine for me."
Robert's mother took the paper and read :
" George Washington, President of the United States
of America, To All to Whom these Presents shall come.
"The bearer hereof, Mr. Blanchard, a citizen of France,
proposing to ascend in a balloon from the city of Phila-
delphia, at 10 o'clock A.M. this day, to pass in such di-
rection and to descend in such place as circumstances may
render most convenient —
"THESE ARE therefore to recommend to all citizens
of the United States, and others, that in his passage, de-
scent, return, or journeying elsewhere, they oppose no
hindrance or molestation to the said Mr. Blanchard ;
And that on the contrary, they receive and aid him with
that humanity and good will which may render honor to
their country, and justice to an individual so distinguished
by his efforts to establish and advance an art, in order to
make it useful to mankind in general.
"Given under my hand and seal, at the
city of Philadelphia, this ninth day
[Seal] of January, one thousand seven hun-
dred and ninety-three, and of the inde-
pendence of America the seventeenth.
"Signed,
"George Washington."
"Does n't that sound grand !" said Robert, with
a sigh, when his mother had finished the reading.
"Mr. Blanchard must have been pleased."
"He had reason to be very grateful for that
paper later," replied Grandfather. "He put it
away carefully in his breast pocket, then stepped
Vol. XXXIX.— 101.
into the car. The ropes were untied, the ballast
thrown out, and he sailed upward, standing hat
in hand and waving a flag decorated on one side
with the Stars and Stripes and on the other with
the tricolor of France. For a moment nobody
moved or made a sound ; then there rose from the
people within the courtyard a great cheer, which
was taken up by the crowds watching from the
GEORGE WASHINGTON.
From the painting by Trumbull, in the City Hall, New York.
roofs of the city as the balloon came into view
and then sailed off over their heads. Father al-
ways said that was the most thrilling moment of
his boyhood."
"What happened?" asked Robert. "Did Mr.
Blanchard come back?"
"No," replied Grandfather. "Some gentlemen
galloped off along the road in the direction he
had taken, but they soon lost sight of him. They
did not have steam-cars then, you must remem-
ber, much less telegraphs and telephones. That
was one reason why every one was' so excited
over flying. Until balloons were invented, no one
had traveled across country faster than a horse
could take him. No ; that was the last the people
of Philadelphia saw or heard of Mr. Blanchard
until seven o'clock that night, when news spread
among the waiting crowds that he had returned
and was at the President's house telling his story.
"When he had been in the air about an hour,
the gas in his balloon had given out. Pie had
to come down in the first open space he could see.
He had made the descent safely and found him-
802
PRESIDENT WASHINGTON AND FLYING
self in a field in the midst of woods. Then the
question was what to do. He had no idea where
he was. From his compass he could tell the gen-
eral direction of Philadelphia, but he could only
guess how far he had traveled. Fortunately some
farmers came to his aid. They had been chop-
ping wood near by, and, seeing him land, had
come to investigate. It was then that President
Washington's passport served him. The men
were very much frightened. Mr. Blanchard could
speak no English, and his French only increased
their terror. He bethought him of the passport
and gave it to them. As soon as they saw Wash-
ington's signature and gathered the meaning of
the paper, they were eager to assist him. They
brought a cart for his balloon, and escorted him
to a near-by tavern. There some gentlemen wel-
comed him and entertained him at dinner. They
told him where he was, which explained why the
farmers had been so surprised to see him drop
down out of the air. He was no longer in Penn-
sylvania, where the news of his flight had been
carried far and wide. He had crossed the Dela-
ware River, and had come down some eighteen
miles inland in the State of New Jersey. A pa-
per was drawn up, which all signed, testifying to
the place and hour of his landing. This news-
paper contains a copy of it. It took Mr. Blan-
chard six hours to return by horseback, carriage,
and ferry over the distance which he had covered
in his balloon in less than an hour.
"This was the story which he told to President
Washington, to whom he at once went to report
in order to thank him for the passport and to
present to him the flag which he had carried on
the trip. The President showed great interest,
congratulating him on his success, and making
many inquiries about how the altitude affected his
breathing and heart action, and how the country
looked from such a height.
"So the next time you go to an aviation meet,
Robert," concluded his grandfather, "remember
that your great-grandfather saw the first success-
ful flight in America; and add to the things
which you know about Washington that he was
the first great American to encourage aviation."
TKE !KP ©IF IA ©DAKJT
W PAULINE FRANCES CAMP
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A VERY UGLY CUSTOMER
I THE CHAMPION OF TH1
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I HAPPENED ON THE BAY
1 THE GIANT" MET HIS
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THE WHIPPOORWILL
BY EDWARD N. TEALL
When all the other birds have gone to bed,
And everything is still ;
When Mister Moon Man with his lantern threads
The pine woods on the hill,
I hear each night The Bird That Sits Up Late—
I hear the whippoorwill.
'Whip— poor— Will !" he cries,
And sometimes, "Whip— poor-
I 'm sorry for that other chap,
And glad my name is Phil !
■Will!'
His voice is like the whistle of a whip,
So sharp is it, and shrill;
I lie and watch the Moon Man climb the sky,
And listen to him, till
I wonder, "Can he be some dead bird's ghost
That haunts the old stone mill?"
"Whip— poor— Will," he cries;
"Poor Will-poor Will-poor Will!"
I pull the bedclothes to my eyes,
And whisper : "My name 's Phil !"
From photographs by the Pictorial News Co.
"BIG ED" WALSH, OF THE CHICAGO
WHITE SOX, SHOWING THE EASY
MOTION AND FINE BODY SWING THIS
PITCHER HAS.
ALEXANDER, OF THE PHILA-
DELPHIA NATIONAL
LEAGUE CLUB, IN A PRE-
LIMINARY "WIND-UP."
MATHEWSON, OF THE GIANTS, — WITH
NO MEN ON BASES — GATHERS ALL
THE MUSCLES OF HIS BODY PREVIOUS
TO THE PITCH.
PLAYING THE GAME
(A sequel to " The Battle of Base-ball")
BY C. H. CLAUDY
Chapter II
THE PRACTICE OF THE ART OF PITCHING
Mere ability to throw a fast ball, pitch a curve,
make the ball perform antics in the air, is, by
itself, of no value whatever. The mere ability
to pitch a ball with speed, with a curve, with a
shoot, is of no value to a pitcher, if he cannot put
it zvhere he wants it!
Of greater value than any speed, or jump, or
puzzling antic, is control — ability to pitch a ball
with a reasonable assurance that, eight times out
of ten, the ball will do your bidding and go to
the exact spot you desire. Every League pitcher
will tell you the same thing, and every year sees
dozens of widely heralded "phenomenal" pitchers
turned back from the Major to the Minor Leagues
for this one reason.
"He had the speed," the manager will say, "but
he had n't learned control."
Better far, on any diamond, is the pitcher who
can fool batsmen with change of pace and tease
them into striking at wide balls, than one who,
with every known variety of curve and shoot,
sends man after man to first base on balls ; or
sees him jog there, painfully rubbing some part
of his anatomy, because struck with a wild ball ;
or watches men galloping about the bases while
his angry catcher chases a wild pitch.
Control, then, is the first thing to acquire.
804
PLAYING THE GAME
805
And there is only one way to get control, and
that is by intelligent practice. Note that mere
practice in pitching won't do — the practice must
be intelligent. In the first place, control of the
fast ball comes before any other kind — and that
can only be obtained by beginning with little
force and gradually increasing the pace. Stand-
ing sixty feet from a catcher and hurling in a
hundred straight balls with all your might in the
hope that, by constant repetition, you can gage
control, won't do one tenth as much good as
throwing him ten easy ones, ten a fraction
harder, ten more a little harder yet, and so on,
until you find the amount of force and speed
which begins to affect your accuracy of aim.
Then use this as a starting-point and pitch at this
speed until you can put one over the right, one
over the left corner of the plate, and one over
the center, half a dozen times in succession.
Then begin to put a little more pace
on the ball, and so, very gradually,
train your muscles to obey your will,
until you can send the ball with all
your strength true and straight to the mark.
This is the one and only known way of getting
control— and it is n't a road to be traveled in a
week nor even in a year — but it is the road to
travel. And you will find, the first time you pitch
a real game, after having ascertained to a nicety
just how fast you can pitch and still keep con-
trol, that you can do more by teasing the batter
with "near strikes" that just don't go over the
plate, alternated with those which do, than you
can by wildly hurling them with all your force in
the general direction of the catcher, in the (al-
most always vain) hope that they will have the
good luck to be "strikes !"
And just here let us note a very important point
for all young pitchers to think about and remem-
ber. It is this : control means not only the ability
to put a ball over the center, the inside, or the
outside corner of the plate; not only ability to
throw within a few inches of the plate at will,
and to "tease" the batter into striking at a ball
which will result in a foul or a weak roller to
some fielder. It means, as well,' control of the
height of the ball as it crosses the plate.
Rule 31 says that "A fairly delivered ball is a
ball pitched or thrown to the bat by the pitcher,
while standing in his position and facing the
batsman, that passes over any portion of the
home base, before touching the ground, not lower
than the batsman's knee, nor higher than his
shoulder. For every such fairly delivered ball
the umpire shall call one strike."
From knee to shoulder may be any distance
from about twenty-six inches in the case of a
short man to thirty-eight inches with a tall man.
A reference to Fig. 1, page 809, will show how
much greater chance there is of fooling the bats-
man by altering the height at which the ball
crosses the plate, than by changing its direction
to right or left. The bat presents a much smaller
target for the ball from A to C than it does from
A to B. Hence the necessity of control of height
as well as direction of the ball.
So your practice should include throwing low
balls, waist balls, high balls, at the signal of the
Start of the out-shoot
Finish of the out-shoot.
HOW TO PITCH AN OUT-SHOOT.
Posed expressly for St. Nicholas by WALTER JOHNSON, of the
Washington American League Club.
"I shall be glad to show how I pitch this ball," said Mr. Johnson,
"but it should be remembered that no two pitchers pitch this ball in
just the same way. There is no standard way of throwing an out-shout
— I can only show you how I pitch it."
catcher, and not until you can throw a high ball,
inside, outside, or "straight through," a waist
ball, and a knee ball in those three positions, and
do it, too, almost at will, can you step back satis-
fied that you really are able to control your fast
ball.
If you have this control, and are able to use it
on both a fast and a slow ball, you can (whether
806
PLAYING THE GAME
[July,
you have the slightest ability to throw a curve or
not) go in and pitch a better game, allow fewer
hits, and strike out more batters than if you
pitched half a dozen wide curves of which only
one in six was true enough to be called a strike.
Start of the slow ball.
HOW TO PITCH THE SLOW BALL.
Posed expressly for St. Nicholas by Carl Cashion, Washington,
American League.
Note how loosely the ball is held. It is thrown with the regular over-
hand motion used for a fast ball.
While talking base-ball to a group of boys re-
cently, the author was emphasizing necessity of
control.
"Shucks !" commented one young enthusiast,
"control is all right, of course, but if I could just
'fade 'em' like Matty, or get 'em over as fast as
Johnson, or as slyly as 'Rube' Marquard, I '11
wager I 'd win every game I pitched if I passed
every other man !"
"But the figures, my lad, don't bear you out,"
was the reply. "The records show that Mar-
quard, whose percentage of games won — .774 —
was the greatest in the National League in 191 1,
hit but four men during the season, and passed
106 men. At first thought this may seem a large
number. But remember that 1007 men had 'times
at bat' against him, that many more faced him
not charged with 'times at bat,' and that these
106 passes were given during 278 innings of play.
Marquard had control.
"Mathewson, always known as a pitcher with
perfect control, hit one batsman in 191 1 and
passed thirty-eight men in 307 innings of play,
and had 1169 men charged with 'times at bat'
against him. Mathewson had remarkable control.
"Johnson, one of the leading pitchers in the
American League, has always been handicapped
by the fact that he is too kind-hearted and gentle-
natured wilfully to throw so near the batsman as
to make him fear to step too close to the plate.
As his control is so perfect, and his disposition
is so well known, players 'stand to the plate'
when he is on the mound, and make more hits off
him by so doing than they otherwise would.
Even so, in 191 1, Johnson hit but eight batsmen,
and gave bases on balls to seventy more, having
1228 men charged with 'times at bat' against him,
in 323 innings of play. Johnson, too, had won-
derful control."
And, to clinch the argument — if any more be
needed — consider the remarkable games pitched
in both Big Leagues in 191 1. In the American
League there were two no-hit games pitched dur-
ing the season, Wood, of Boston, turning this
most unusual trick against St. Louis, and Walsh,
of Chicago, shutting out Boston without a hit.
Coombs, of Philadelphia, Wood, of Boston, and
Walsh, of Chicago, each pitched also a one-hit
game during the season. All these pitchers are
men noted for control— on the days when they
Finish of the slow ball.
pitched these phenomenal games, they had prac-
tically perfect control.
In the National League there was no no-hit
game in 191 1, but ten pitchers pitched one-hit
games. Compare the list with the pitchers' rec-
ords, and you find almost all men of fine control.
They were Moore, Philadelphia ; Fromme, Cin-
cinnati ; Rucker, Brooklyn ; Chalmers, Philadel-
phia; Steele, Pittsburg; Marquard, New York;
Alexander, Philadelphia; Woodburn, St. Louis;
Burns, Philadelphia, and Cole, Chicago.
Once having control of the fast ball, you are
in a position to take up some variety of curve.
Here you need advice (which, in all probability,
you won't take) and caution about your arm
(which you probably won't heed). The advice
is this : don't try to master more than one curve,
shoot, hook, or slant at a time ; don't try ever to
1012.]
PLAYING THE GAME
807
master more than two or three. Great pitchers
do not— why should you?
Walter Johnson, the American League pitcher
(Washington), depends on his fast ball with a
jump on it, his slow ball for a change of pace,
one swift curve, and almost perfect control. He
can throw other things, but these are what he
does throw. Christy Mathewson, the great
pitcher of the New York Giants, depends on his
famous fadeaway, a high in-shoot, a slow ball,
and a swift straight one — plus almost perfect
control. Edward Walsh, the phenomenal steel-
armed man of the Chicago White Sox, uses
speed, a spit ball, a slow ball occasionally, a jump
curve, and a plain, straight, not very hard ball
which looks like a spitter and— is n't. He also
has magnificent control of the ball.
Now just as there are no two faces in the
ascertain, before you begin to develop a curve or
shoot, just which particular kind comes easiest to
Start of the knuckle ball.
Finish of the knuckle ball.
HOW TO PITCH A KNUCKLE BALL.
Posed expressly for St. Nicholas by Jerry Ackers, Washington,
American League.
The knuckle ball is a slow ball which wavers in the air. It is very
puzzling when properly thrown and controlled.
world exactly alike, so no two arms in the world
are exactly similar. Therefore no two boys or
men will have exactly the same way of getting
exactly the same curve. So it is vital that you
Start of the drop ball.
Finish of the drop ball.
HOW TO PITCH A DROP BALL.
Posed expressly for St. Nicholas by Dixie Walker, Washington,
American League.
Note that this powerfully built pitcher pitches a drop over the side
of his index-finger. Other pitchers sometimes release the ball over the
ends of the fingers, with the back of the hand up.
you naturally. It is likely to be some variety of
the out-curve, because this curve, as previously
explained, is thrown by the hand and arm and
wrist in a position which is a continuation of the
natural curve of hand, arm, and wrist in throw-
ing. The ball, firmly grasped between thumb and
first two fingers, is brought over the shoulder
with the ordinary throwing motion, and the back
of the hand is turned to the pitcher's right and
slightly down as the ball is let go, so that it rolls
off the sides of the index-finger and faces of
both fingers, which serves to give it the neces-
sary revolution from right to left to curve it to
the pitcher's left and the batter's right. By bring-
ing the hand directly down over the head and
having the back of the hand toward the batter,
the ball is made to revolve from top toward the
bottom, or in the direction of its motion, so that
it becomes a drop ball— dropping from its revo-
lution, and not from impact with the air, as a
spit ball drops.
Now, somewhere between these two, out-curve
and drop-curve, is the out-drop. The position at
808
PLAYING THE GAME
[July,
which the drop or curve commences is dependent
on a good many things— the force of the throw,
the speed of revolution, the angle of the throw
(from the shoulder to the plate), and the position
of the arm when the ball is released — whether
fully extended, or something short of that. These
Start of the in-shoot.
Finish of the in-shoot.
HOW TO PITCH AN IN-SHOOT.
Posed expressly for St. Nicholas by WALTER JOHNSON, Wash-
ington, American League.
things must be experimented with by the indi-
vidual until he finds which variety of this curve
he throws with the least effort. For if he throws
a slight curve with little effort, he may throw a
sharp or wide one with greater effort ; whereas, if
a slight curve takes "all he has," he cannot, well,
increase the speed or latitude of that particular
curve. So it is very important to find the curve
that you can throw most easily, and make that
the basis of what you will develop.
But whatever the curve which seems to be most
natural to your build and habits of throwing, and
which seems to jerk and twist your arm the least
in delivery, try to develop it not only with the
arm and hand, but with the whole body. Having
a good "motion" means a great deal to a pitcher.
It means that every muscle in his body, almost, is
used in his pitch, and that, as a result, he can get
greater speed, a wider curve, a sharper break,
with less effort on any one muscle than he could
if his "motion" was at fault. Amos Rusie, the
great "speed king" who pitched balls so hard and
fast that none of his catchers could keep a good
record all the time, had an almost perfect "mo-
tion." Walter Johnson, who, some players say,
pitches as speedy a ball as ever Rusie pitched,
has a perfect swing to his body, and uses not
only his powerful arm and shoulder muscles, but
those of his back, his thighs, and his legs, in his
speed ball, so that he can finish a game almost as
strong as when he began it. Mathewson's work
has long been remarkable for the smoothness of
his motion— he seems to propel the ball with his
whole body, using his hand and arm rather to
guide the ball than to propel it. Bender, who led
the American League pitchers last year, has a
long body, every bit of which gets into his throw
— and similar instances might be multiplied with-
out number.
The secret of good "motion," like that of con-
trol, is practice — only in this case the practice
consists in throwing, throwing, throwing, using
the arm as little as possible, save as a guide to
the ball, and getting all the propelling effort pos-
sible by starting the pitch from a position in
which the body is bent backward, stepping for-
ward, and swinging the body from right to left
so that all its muscles back up and supplement
those of the arm.
Having mastered the elements of pitching —
control, and a good body swing, or "motion" — a
great deal of progress is made toward pitching a
good game. But without some knowledge of how
to apply what you know, you might as well toss
the ball up to the batter and let him hit it. Re-
cruit players breaking into the Big Leagues often
start out with tremendous batting averages — for
a dozen games or more. Then the pitchers dis-
cover their likes and dislikes, find out what they
can hit with ease and what they hit with diffi-
culty, and promptly the new-comers' batting aver-
ages shrink tremendously.
Of course any lad soon catches on to the pe-
culiarities of his fellow club-members who stand
at the plate and face his pitching. But suppose
you go to the other side of town or to a neigh-
boring town, to play a nine you never saw before
—what sort of balls are you going to pitch those
batters? Use speed, and trust to luck? Make
every pitched ball different from the preceding
one, in the hope of fooling the man at bat?
Throw two balls in the hope of their being called
strikes, stick one over, and then trust to your in-
field to get the batter out at first?
None of these systems will do. You must study
the first batter the first time he comes to the
plate, and deduce what you can from his size,
ioi2.]
PLAYING THE GAME
809
his hold on the bat, his position at the plate —
later, when he has hit, you will have more data
to reason from for his next time up. If the bats-
man holds his bat "choked," that is, several
inches from the end, and, instead of swinging,
chops at the ball, your best play is a low ball
rather than a high one. "Choked bats" don't
reach so far down, and are less likely to connect
well with low balls than with those between
waist and shoulder. Does the batter hold his bat
at the extreme end and stand there waiting,
swinging his bat in wide arcs? It is the trick of
the free hitter— one who wallops the ball when
he does hit it, and strikes out with a loud swish-
ing noise of fanning air when he does n't. Free
hitters rarely face the pitcher ; they stand facing
the plate or three quarters of the way between
pitcher and plate (Fig. 2). The ball that this
type of batter likes least is that which comes
close to him on the inside of the plate. He likes
it least because, even if he does hit it, it is usually
with the handle of the bat, resulting in a slow
roller or a little "pop fly." Change of pace is a
great weapon against the swinging slugger, or
free hitter: a fast ball well outside that he may
center. The chances are he will then hit too
eagerly, and before the ball gets to him at all, or,
if he does hit it, will drive a decided foul to left
(if he be a right-hander— see Fig. 3).
Fig. 1. Why variation in height, as in the drop-curve, is more puz-
zling to the batsman than flat curves "in" or "out." A to B : width
of plate. A to C : knee to shoulder of batsman.
not hit it, a fast ball well inside that he will not
want to hit, then a slow, teasing, "floating" ball
which crawls up to him fair and full in the
Vol. XXXIX.— 102.
"Where the free-batter
doesn't like them
"Where he does
liKe them
Fig. 2. The batters who stand sidewise to the plate can reach low
balls with ease.
Snappy hitters— men who choke their bats and
hit with a choppy motion, rather than a swing-
will generally do more execution against a slow
ball than a fast one. Not having to start their
hit so soon, they are not so easily thrown out of
balance as is the swinging hitter who must begin
his swing some time before the ball reaches him,
and who, therefore, on a slow ball he has n't
recognized, either fans or fouls to left.
Batters who do not fear the ball, and step well
into it at the plate, not infrequently take the heart
out of a pitcher by hammering his best curve
ball before it has fairly had a chance to break.
Such men should get balls as close to them as
possible, and high or low, according to their man-
ner of standing at the plate. Always remember
that a man who stands sidewise to the plate can
do anything he wants with the average low ball,
but has difficulty in hitting a high one; whereas
a man who faces the pitcher squarely can handle
high ones easily and low ones with difficulty.
Batters who are timid — who "pull away" as
they bat— are the easy prey of the pitcher with
control— all he has to do is keep the ball on the
outside corner of the plate. As the batter is
810
PLAYING THE GAME
[July,
going one way, due to his pulling habit, the ball, to right field (Fig. 4), all slow ones to left (the
at the same time, is "breaking" to the other side, natural hit) ; others, by some peculiar mental
and the usual result is a foul, a strike-out, or a twist, swing more quickly on fast balls (so driv-
weak hit easily handled. Players who "pull" ~"----/°ui a
<s^ —
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slow ball
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Fig 3
Fig 4
Fig 5
have no place on a team playing real base-ball,
according to the Big-League managers.
In some cases the pitcher may to a certain ex-
tent control the direction of the batsman's hit.
That is, by knowing where the batsman usually
hits a straight, fast ball, he can, by giving him a
decided in-curve, or a decided out-curve some-
times, cause him to hit to right or left of his
usual direction (see Fig. 6). Of course this
little strategy won't always succeed— the batter
won't always hit as expected— but it succeeds
often enough for most Major League teams to
notify the outfield and the infield by signal what
sort of a ball is to be pitched to a batter, so
that they may know what is the most probable
result should the batter succeed in hitting it.
In the same way (see Fig. 7) the pitcher
may control to some slight extent the probable
direction of the hit, by knowing the batter's
usual style, and changing the speed of the ball
accordingly. This is not a particularly sure
method, but often, with a canny batsman, it is of
advantage in getting two strikes on him by the
foul route, first, perhaps, with a swift ball, and,
second, with a slow "teaser."
Of course there are a great many individual
peculiarities which have no general application —
every boy will have to master those of his op-
ponents as practice shows him their weaknesses.
Some can't hit a slow ball at all, others kill slow
balls every time. Some batters will hit every
time at the first ball if it is within reach— these
should always get the first ball well outside the
plate. Other batters almost never offer at the
first ball— a straight, plain, swift one through the
heart of the plate should be the first pitch to lads
of this disposition. Some batters hit all fast balls
ing them to left) than they do on slow ones, which
they recognize and which they unconsciously
wait for, driving them to right. The diagrams
show why a fast ball is usually driven to right
and a slow one to left, but this is not a hard-and-
fast rule. But it is a noticeable fact that pitchers
of the Rusie-Johnson type, who have extreme
speed, do get a lot of strikes by the foul route,
Fig. 6. Showing a left-field hitter hitting a straight ball to left field,
and why he is likely to foul off a sharp in-curve, and why an out-curve
may result in a clean hit to right center. These results vary with
different batters — the diagram merely shows the principle.
and for the same reason that fast pitches are so
often hit to right field— the ball is faster than
the batter calculates, consequently his bat hits it
1912.]
PLAYING THE GAME
811
too soon in the flight of the swift hall over
the plate, as shown in Fig. 5.
There are times when you must consider not
only what the man at bat can do best, but what
he is likely to try to do. Thus, with a man on
third and less than two out, the sacrifice fly is
often attempted. The hardest ball from which to
hit a long, high sacrifice fly is a high ball. Natu-
rally, therefore (unless
this particular batter is
one who hits all high
balls particularly well),
in this situation, keep
the ball up. Similarly it
is harder to bunt a high
ball than a waist-high or
low one— bunting a ball
from a shoulder-high
pitch is easily seen to be
difficult. On the other
hand, with a very speedy
man at the plate who
often chops the ball
straight down, in the
hope of it making a high
bounce or two during
which he can beat it to
the base, keep the ball
low.
It is highly necessary
that the young pitcher
realize the importance
of having the same pre-
liminary attitude previ-
ous to all pitches, and the
same variety of "mo-
tion" in all deliveries,
otherwise the batter will
soon recognize that your
little step backward before you pitch means a
fast ball, or your slight hunching of the shoulder
means a drop, or. whatever telltale motion you
make means some one particular pitch. One of
the reasons for Mathewson's great success with
his fadeaway is his uncanny ability to pitch it
with the overhand motion — the same motion he
uses on his straight ball and his high in-curve.
He could pitch his high in and his fadeaway with
less effort and perhaps greater effect, if he could
use his arm any way he pleased. But he cannot.
He must use a motion which gives no indication
of what is coming— so, indeed, must all pitchers.
It is in this point, too, that the lad whose slow
ball is but his fast ball thrown easily, fails so
lamentably— any one can see what he is doing
while he does it. Take a pitcher like Alexander,
of the "Phillies," or Marquard, of the Giants, or
"Three-fingered" Brown, of the "Cubs," and you
can't tell their fast ball and their slow one apart
by their motion— the same attitude, the same
speed of arm, the same everything— except the
V-.
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( \ Vx J \*\
X\ * ^V \a\ \ ti \
Vv\ XA \ \
How fast and slow balls, and
x^Nf°\\ \\\
early and late swings affect
the direction of the hit.
(-^>t5^ ^$^x \V\ \
y m>%x>o\\\
y*- / ' k- ^^-v-£°S£0\nO\
y ' r * x^o^ovN
& I SLOW BALL -VERY EARLY SWING -FOUL """^
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uy / \ 1 \
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P £>' :C
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Fig. 7 i {
— -■- .,■■■■■■ .I, j , i ■ i J..„ . , -..,-.-. \ _
grip and the last wrist flick, which does the busi-
ness without any telltale hint to the batter.
While, perhaps, more properly belonging to the
chapter to be devoted to fielding, a few words
seem necessary here on the pitcher's duties out-
side the box. A pitcher might have every known
delivery, deception, speed, slow ball, curve, fader,
drop, everything, and still be hopelessly a "Minor
leaguer," if he did n't watch bases and hold run-
ners on, as well as field bunts and cover first base.
Barney Pelty, pitcher of the St. Louis
"Browns," recently stated that, in his opinion, it
should be the pitcher instead of the catcher who
was charged with a stolen base. Suppose the
pitcher does n't hold the runner glued to first.
He gets off with a fifteen-, perhaps a twenty-,
foot lead. The pitcher takes a bit of a wind-up,
and the runner is twenty-five feet from first
812
PLAYING THE GAME
before the pitcher gets the ball away to the
catcher. The catcher must make his catch, step
out of line of the batsman, who is probably "ar-
tistically" engaged in getting in his way, draw
back his arm, and throw to second, where the
ball must be caught, held, and tagged on the run-
ner ! When it is n't done, the catcher is charged
with a stolen base, when, as a matter of fact, it
is n't his fault at all, but the pitcher's.
Thinking base-ball critics, seeing the stolen
base charged to the catcher, often add in their
own minds, "but it was n't his fault." But that
does n't help the catcher's record ! Yet it is not
to help out a catcher, but to play the game, that
young pitchers must watch the bases. Throw
often enough and suddenly enough to first to
make the runner hug the base. Have a signal
with the catcher as to when to whirl and throw.
But don't throw the game away by throwing too
often, or when there is no need of it. Watch the
base — indeed, watch second and third, too, but
most especially first base. Then, when you do
turn to pitch, forget the runner entirely, and see
only the batter and the plate !
As for fielding, you have only to refer to the
scores of the World Series in 191 1, to see how
important it is for a pitcher to be a fielder as
well. Bender had one put-out and six assists,
Plank two assists, and Coombs one put-out and
two assists, while Mathewson had two put-outs
and nine assists, Marquard, Crandall, and Wiltse
two assists each, and Ames one assist. In six
games, then, the pitchers had a total of four put-
outs and twenty-six assists. Is it coincidence that
Bender, the Athletics' star pitcher, and Mathew-
son, the Giants' star pitcher, lead their teams in
pitchers' assists? Both are expert fielders.
The pitcher who cannot run in, scoop up a
bunt with one hand, and throw to first, is no
pitcher at all.
But it is on first-base plays that the pitcher
must be most especially alert, not -only in fielding
bunts, but in covering the bag on bunts fielded by
the first baseman, and on hits down the foul line
or in short right field, which perhaps both second
baseman and first go after. The instant a ball
is hit toward first base, the pitcher should start
for the bag. He has less distance to run than
the runner, and can easily get there first. He
should get there just in time to make the catch
of the ball frequently tossed by the fielder while
the pitcher is still running, since often the pitcher
will not be able to stop.
As every boy knows, the sight of a runner, a
pitcher, and the ball all meeting at first base
(Fig. 8) is one of the prettiest plays on the
diamond. As first is the only base where neither
fielder nor runner need stop after touching the
bag for the put-out, this play never occurs any-
where else.
But, remember, this fine faculty of running to
cover first, arriving there just in time to step
on the bag the instant the tossed ball is caught,
is the result of hard practice, and the lad who will
devote fifteen minutes a day to fielding bunts
with one hand, and whirling and throwing, and
another fifteen minutes to covering first and re-
ceiving fielded balls, will make a pitcher his nine
will rather have in a game than that other lad
who, superior, perhaps, in actual pitching, is yet
unable, through laziness or lack of practice, to
leave the firing-line and become one of the in-
fielders— unable, in the real meaning of the
words, to play the game !
( To be continued. )
First-baseman fields
ball and throws to
pitcher on First-base.
Runner is out by
several feet.
1 — 1 m>g — : - -7K-|
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First-Baseman
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Pitcher
A PRETTY PLAY. PITCHER COVERING FIRST BASE.
THE TOWNSEND TWINS-CAMP DIRECTORS
BY WARREN L. ELDRED
Chapter X
AN ADVENTURE AFTER DARK
"To the rescue !" cried Lefty, dashing around to-
ward the rear. "This way !"
Tad and Jack paused to light the lanterns
which they carried. Then they rushed forward
and entered the ruined building, where the others
already were groping about in the darkness.
The two lanterns threw a partial light over
piles of brick, mortar, and rubbish of several sorts
which littered the interior. Cousin Willie was
discovered in one corner, lying on a pile of hay,
just as he had fallen— too terrified to move or
speak. Except for him and the rescuing party,
no one was in the place, nor was the dog in evi-
dence. Tad hurried over to the corner.
"Hurt, Will?" he cried anxiously.
The boy sat up, pale and trembling, but silent.
"It 's all right, Will," Tad went on consolingly ;
"nobody 's around, you see, except our crowd.
The old hermit and Fido have skipped. I guess
the fall knocked your breath out, did n't it?"
Will nodded and gasped.
Lefty rushed forward and lifted him in his
arms. "The chi-i-i-ld is saved !" he announced in
a dramatic tremolo.
"But where 's the dog?" Bert cried in surprise,
picking up a stout club which lay near him.
"Fido seems to have skipped to the happy hunt-
ing-grounds," Tad announced. "May his bark
find a quiet harbor !"
"Ah, how poetic !" murmured Bert, poking
around with his stick. "It 's a mighty good thing
for Willie that the old man and his dog are not
around. I thought he was a goner when that
wall gave way."
"Yes, I thought it was all up with him," Eliot
added. "He chose a good spot to fall — over there
on the hay. It 's a lot more comfortable to land
on hay than on a pile of bricks."
"Bill showed artistic judgment in picking out a
landing-place," Lefty agreed. "If only he 'd gone
to sleep, he might have been taken for Little Boy
Blue— 'under the haystack, fast asleep.' "
Lefty had been talking to Cousin Willie in a
low tone, in an attempt to revive his courage, and
the boy now had quite recovered from his fright.
Having found the ruins deserted, the Beaver
Campers felt perfectly secure, and began a lei-
surely inspection of the dilapidated building. In
the beginning of its history it might have been
a fort, or perhaps an old mill with a wheel turned
by some stream that now flowed in another chan-
nel. The roof was broken through, and the rear
wall had a gaping opening large enough to admit
a two-horse truck. Here and there the vines
which covered the outside had forced themselves
in through the openings, and reached out bravely
in an effort to cover the bare ugliness of the
interior.
It seemed probable that the owner of the prem-
ises had stored some farm produce in the build-
ing during the months past, for a pile of old hay
lay in one corner — fortunately for Cousin Willie
— and several barrels and baskets were lying on
the ground.
A rude shelter made of brush and boards
marked the lodging of the hermit and his dog.
A fire still smoldered before it, and empty cans
were scattered about in disorderly confusion.
Bert poked around with his stick in an inquisi-
tive fashion for a while, but found nothing espe-
cially interesting, so he threw himself down upon
the pile of hay to wait until the others had satis-
fied their curiosity.
As he touched the hay, he uttered a smothered
exclamation and sprang to his feet, rubbing one
shoulder.
"What 's the matter, Bert ?" Ed cried in sur-
prise.
"Ouch ! There 's something hard and sharp
down there," said Bert; "and I landed right on
it !"
"Maybe it 's the hermit, Bert," Tad suggested.
"He 's hard and sharp."
"Take a look, Bert !" Charlie urged. "See
what 's hidden down there."
Cousin Willie had somewhat disarranged the
pile of hay when he fell, and Bert's heavier
weight still more noticeably had crushed and flat-
tened it. Still nursing his shoulder, Bert grasped
his stick and thrust it into the pile. It struck
something solid, and he stooped to investigate.
Just then the stillness of the night was broken
by a sound which struck terror into the hearts of
the boys — the angry barking of a dog.
"They 're coming back !" Tad cried in alarm.
"Put out the lights and run for all you 're worth !"
In an instant the lighted lanterns were extin-
guished, and the boys were scrambling through
the opening in the broken rear wall. Onward
they ran, stumbling over obstructions, breathless,
frightened, yet spurred to their utmost exertion
814
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[July,
by the deep, savage barking that seemed to be
coming alarmingly near.
They reached the fence that ran down to the
road after what seemed like a desperately long
interval, and somehow they scrambled over it and
gained the partial security of the farther side.
Here they turned and hurried on.
"I suppose there 's no use trying to be quiet,"
Lefty gasped. "They can't hear us back there,
and, anyhow, we made enough noise for a regi-
ment, getting across that field."
"We '11 be all right if only that blood-thirsty
brute does n't take a notion to follow us !" was
Tad's breathless reply. "I suppose he can follow
our track if the old fellow lets him."
"Sure ! It would be right in his line ! Where 's
Bill?"
"I don't know ! Is n't he in the crowd some-
where?"
"Don't see him ! Hold up a minute, you fel-
lows ! Any of you seen Bill?"
"He was with me when we climbed over the
fence," Tom reported. "I have n't seen him
since."
Jack hastily counted the dark figures gathered
around him. One, two, three, four, five, six,
seven, eight — Cousin Willie was not with them!
"He 's probably fallen down somewhere," Wal-
ter ventured. "Seems to me I heard a fellow fall
near me, right after we got over the fence. I
did n't pay much attention then, because I took it
for granted that whoever it was would pick him-
self up and hustle along."
"Hark!" cried Eliot. "Listen to that dog!
Is n't he coming nearer?"
"He surely is !" Lefty muttered anxiously.
"You fellows had better run along ! Leave a lan-
tern with me. I '11 climb up in this tree, and if
the dog is following our trail, likely as not he '11
run right by me. After he 's gone on, I '11 walk
back and look for Bill."
There was no time for argument or delay, be-
cause the sound of excited barking was coming
closer to them, and it seemed apparent that the
dog was in full pursuit.
Lefty fastened the lantern to his belt and
climbed carefully into a tree not far from the
fence, while the others hurried on toward the
highway.
For some minutes, he sat in this friendly shel-
ter. The sound of the rapidly retreating boys
died away in the distance. Nearer and nearer
came the dog. Now Lefty could hear him crash-
ing through the bushes close at hand. At the foot
of the tree, he seemed to hesitate. Here it was
that the boys had stopped, and the dog ran around
Uncertainly, trying to pick up the scent.
Lefty held his breath in suspense, thankful that,
even should the dog discover him, he could not
reach him. Then Lefty heard a voice which he
at once recognized as belonging to the hermit, and
realized that the dog was being urged forward
by his master, who seemed eager to overtake and.
punish those who so boldly had invaded his
domain.
In a minute or two, the dog found the scent
and ran forward, the man hurrying in pursuit,
but Lefty judged that by this time his fellow-
campers must have reached the road, and hoped
that, once there, they might regain the camp
quickly and in safety.
When the dog and his master had passed on,
Lefty scrambled to the ground and unfastened the
lantern from his belt. He plunged a hand inside
his pocket, and then suddenly remembered that he
had given his matches to Jack. He had no means
of lighting the lantern which he had so carefully
shielded in ascending and descending the tree.
"Thunder !" he muttered. "Also lightning !"
There was nothing to be done about it, how-
ever, so Lefty made the best of existing conditions,
and retraced his steps over the course which the
boys had followed along the fence. Every minute
or two he whistled cautiously, and soon heard a
faint answering signal.
"Is that you, Bill?" he cried, as loudly as he
dared.
"Yes! All right, Lefty! Where are you?"
and Lefty saw the bright light of Willie's pocket-
lamp gleaming in the distance.
"Here ! straight ahead ! More to the right
now ! Well, Bill ! I 'm glad to find you again.
Where were you?"
"I caught my foot in getting over the fence,"
he explained, "and tumbled down in a lot of weeds
and stuff. It did n't hurt me, but I got all mixed
up and turned the wrong way— opposite to the
other fellows. When I found out what I 'd done,
I heard the dog coming, and was afraid to run
back until he got out of the way."
"It strikes me that you 're getting more than
your share of excitement out of this thing, Bill,"
Lefty responded, with a little chuckle. "I 'm glad
you have that electric lamp. I 've got a lantern,
but no matches, and, somehow, an unlighted lan-
tern does n't give much illumination."
"I have a match-box," Will said, searching
through his pockets. "Here ! help yourself !"
Lefty gratefully "borrowed" a match and
lighted the lantern. Then together they set out
for the highway, and as they went, Lefty related
the experiences of the party from the time of
Will's fall to the discovery of his absence.
"Is n't it funny, Lefty, how you never know
1912.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
815
what 's going to happen to you?" Will remarked
reflectively. "If anybody 'd told me six months
ago that I 'd be going through these things, I
would n't have believed it."
"No, I suppose not ! It may not be a bad thing
though, Bill ! You '11 get accustomed to being in
thrilling adventures by the time you 've passed
through half a dozen more, which at the present
rate of progress will be about this time to-mor-
row night. Just think, Bill ! it was only this morn-
ing early that you and I were pattering around
in the dark after that fellow who got away in
the boat."
"That 's so ! It seems farther back than that,
Lefty. It might have been a week ago, so much
has happened since."
Thus talking together, they followed the fence
until, at length, the highway appeared before
them. Then they turned toward Beaver Camp.
Occasionally, they had heard the vocal efforts
of the hermit's dog, and now Lefty noted with
some anxiety that the sound was coming nearer.
"The fellows must have reached camp all
right, Bill," he announced as calmly as possible,
"because our kind-hearted neighbor seems to be
returning from the chase, bringing his menagerie
with him. If you care to see the procession go
past, don't let me hinder you; but as for myself—
well, there 's a brook just ahead, and I think I '11
stop under the bridge until the parade is out of
sight."
"That ought to be a good place to hide, Lefty !
The dog can't follow our trail in the water."
They reached the brook in plenty of time, and
walked up the nearer bank a hundred yards or
more in order to draw the dog farther away, in
case he felt inclined to follow their trail. Then
they removed their shoes and stockings and
waded back through the brook until they were
concealed under the bridge that carried the high-
way across the little stream.
Here they waited until after the dog had passed
their refuge, and the heavy footfalls of his re-
turning master had sounded upon the boards over
their heads. Then they climbed out on the far-
ther bank and made their way back to camp,
where a joyful welcome awaited them.
The other boys had reached Beaver Camp
safely, though it had been necessary for them to
run most of the way. The dog had followed
them even into the "clearing" around the bunga-
low, from which point he had been called off by
his master. Shortly after their arrival, the doctor
had returned from his call at Mrs. Spencer's cot-
tage, and the full history of their adventure had
been related to him.
Doctor Halsey was enough of a boy to relish
the excitement of this recital, and yet, being
mindful of his duty as camp director, he re-
minded the boys of the folly and danger of plung-
ing into reckless adventure, as well as of the
lack of proper regard for him which they had
manifested in leaving camp on such a mission
without his knowledge and consent.
Just then Lefty and Cousin Willie appeared,
and the doctor was eager to learn how they had
fared.
"Anyhow, Bert saved the box that he fell on !"
Edgar announced triumphantly, when Lefty and
Willie had related the account of their experi-
ences. "We have that much to show for our
night's work !"
"That 's so !" cried Bert. "There 's been so
much excitement since that I 'most forgot about
it. I had just dragged the box out of the way
when the blooming dog began to yawp, and we all
beat it. I had the thing under my arm all the
time, and never realized it until we climbed the
fence. It was too late to do anything about it
then, so I brought it back to camp with me, and
here it is !"
So saying, he produced a box of heavy tin,
wrapped in several layers of soiled and torn
newspapers. The tin was coated with black
japan, ornamented with gilt stripes, and the box
looked just like some that the boys had seen in
stationers' windows, designed to hold cash, jew-
elry, and valuable papers.
"No wonder the old fellow chased us !" Eliot
exclaimed. "Most likely he 's a miser, and has
a lot of money and all kinds of valuable things in
that box. I '11 bet he 's gone off to get the con-
stable, or whoever it is up here that does such
business, and means to have us all locked up !"
"I should n't wonder," Jack added soberly. "If
we 're found with that box in our hands, it won't
do us any good to say that we did n't go over
there to steal it !"
The doctor had another theory, but was quite
willing that the boys should be conscience-stricken
for a time, in order that the folly of rushing heed-
lessly into danger might be impressed upon their
minds, and that they might learn to respect the
property rights of their neighbors.
"You see how seriously you are involved," he
remarked quietly. "Not only did you leave camp
on a dangerous and needless mission at a time
when I was absent and was trusting to your
honor and good sense to keep you out of mischief,
but you have trespassed knowingly on the prop-
erty of a neighbor, you have actually stolen some-
thing that may be assumed to belong to him, and
have placed yourselves in a position where you
could be arrested and severely punished."
816
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[July,
The boys looked frightened and ashamed. No
one could frame an appropriate reply.
"What would your parents and friends in the
city think if the news should reach them that you
had been arrested for stealing?" the doctor went
on. "You might convince them that it was a
mere thoughtless prank, but I fancy they would
be distressed and displeased to know that you had
been so imprudent."
"We just went for the excitement of the thing,"
Bert urged in defense. "We '11 put the box back
and the old hermit can see that we have n't taken
anything. Anyhow, he did n't see any of us, and
can't prove that we were there. He can't prove
that we took the box, either, so I don't see what
trouble he can make."
"He knows that some one was in the ruins to-
night," the doctor replied. "He traced the tres-
passers with the aid of his dog, and found that
they belonged here. While he may not be able to
prove anything more, you have been very unwise,
and I hope you will never again do a thing which
might bring disgrace upon Beaver Camp and
spoil our vacation."
The boys' were very penitent, and assured the
doctor with much earnestness of their regret. He
accepted their apologies, but gave them little com-
fort, and they wandered off by twos and threes to
seek forgetfulness in slumber. By this time they
were thoroughly alarmed, and had visions of ar-
rest and all manner of unpleasant sequels to their
nocturnal adventure.
"And just think ! to-morrow will be 'the glori-
ous Fourth !' " Lefty sighed unhappily. "We
were going to have so much fun, but now — well,
we can't tell what will become of us."
"We 're certainly in one horrible mess," Ed re-
plied hopelessly. "I feel awful, but I 'm sorry
most of all about the doctor. We left him sitting
there all alone by the fire, and holding that old
box that 's got us into such a snarl. He looked
mournful as anything, and I '11 bet he feels
worried."
At that minute, however, the doctor was smil-
ing grimly at the leaping flames, as he remem-
bered the alarm of the boys and reflected on its
probable value as a moral tonic. Also he won-
dered how this box, so unexpectedly placed in his
keeping, might fit into a strange story which Mrs.
Spencer had told him that evening.
Chapter XI
"the glorious fourth"
The boys' sleep was restless and troubled that
night, and they awoke on the morning of Inde-
pendence Day feeling downcast and apprehen-
sive. The box was not in sight, and the doctor
did not refer to it. The dawn was not saluted
with a roar of exploding gunpowder. Somehow,
none of the Beaver Campers felt exactly in the
mood for it.
When breakfast had been eaten, and the boys
were busy, in a half-hearted way, about the camp,
Doctor Halsey announced his intention of going
up to Mrs. Spencer's cottage. The boys were
surprised when he produced the box from a se-
cure hiding-place and carefully deposited it in the
boat, but they asked no questions.
Without dropping any hint of his purpose in
taking the box with him, the doctor grasped the
oars and started up the lake, leaving the boys
plunged in a feeling of helpless, defenseless soli-
tude.
"Well, what shall we do— stay here or quit the
diggings?" Bert asked.
"Stay, of course !" Tom at once replied. "No
matter what happens, let 's face the music !"
"It won't be very joyous music, I 'm thinking,"
Lefty observed in a mournful tone. "Chopin's
Funeral March would be quite appropriate, I
should say."
"Oh, well, we may have been foolish, but we
have n't done anything desperately wicked," Tad
remarked, with an attempt at cheerfulness. "Let 's
brace up ! If anybody should drop into our merry
midst, he 'd be apt to think we were guilty of
something dreadful."
"Some one 's coming!" Jack cried excitedly.
"We 're in for it now ! I can hear the sound of
wheels on, the camp road."
Tad made a comical gesture of resignation.
"Tell them I met my fate bravely," he muttered.
"I yield, noble Roman—"
"Oh ! Why, it 's only Neighbor Pettingill with
the cots and stuff!" Jack announced, with very
evident relief.
"Humph ! I had all my yielding for nothing,"
Tad complained. "Next time, I positively will
not surrender without a struggle. I sha'n't go
through that performance again."
Mr. Pettingill, with the help of the boys, un-
loaded the cots, the lumber, and the two belated
trunks. Then he drove off to join in the ex-
tremely mild hilarity of the North Rutland cele-
bration.
"We may as well get busy on the benches,"
Tad remarked. "It '11 occupy our minds and keep
us from moping around. Besides, it '11 look bet-
ter if the police force pounces on us to demand
the box. We can give them a seat for it, but not
a receipt."
Some of the boys attacked the burlap wrap-
pings which protected the cots, while others, in
1912.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
817
an effort to construct a few benches that would
stand the wear and tear of camp life, sawed and
measured and hammered as Eliot directed.
While they were thus employed, their friend,
Doctor Halsey, minus the box, returned to camp.
GUESS THE FALL KNOCKED YOUR BREATH OUT, DID NT
"The box has been restored to its owner," he
quietly announced.
"What did the old fellow say?" Bert asked
with breathless interest.
"What old fellow?"
"Why, the hermit out there in the ruins !
Does n't the box belong to him?"
"Oh, no ! It belongs to our good neighbor Mrs.
Spencer," said the doctor in a matter-of-fact way.
Vol. XXXIX.— 103.
"Mrs. Spencer !" the boys gasped in bewildered
surprise. "How could it belong to her!"
The doctor laughed at their astonishment.
"It 's a rather odd story," he said, "but I '11
tell it as simply as I can. Mrs. Spencer has occu-
pied the cottage above us
for a number of summers.
Mr. Raymond has lived here,
and Mr. Samuelson (who, by
the way, may be discussed
now without fear) is an all-
the-year-round resident of a
comfortable farm below us.
"A year or two ago, Mr.
Samuelson induced Mrs.
Spencer to invest some
money in a piece of property
some miles back. It included
a quarry and several acres
of timber. He also had a
share in the venture, and it
promised to result quite fa-
vorably for them both.
"About a month ago, a com-
pany was formed to purchase
this land and operate the
quarry. Both Mrs. Spencer
and Mr. Samuelson received
an offer from this concern
to buy their interests at good
prices. They decided to ac-
cept the terms, and Mrs.
Spencer brought up from the
city all the papers relating
to the matter. These were
packed in the tin box which
you discovered, and given to
Mr. Samuelson, who acted as
her agent in the matter.
"A week ago the box dis-
appeared from his house, and
all efforts to locate it have
been unsuccessful. The man
whom you discovered out
there in the wilderness has
been employed as a farm-
hand by Mr. Samuelson, and
it looks as if he stole the box
and was guarding it in that out-of-the-way spot.
He is a wild, surly fellow, of whom very little
is known ; but he worked well about the farm,
and help is so hard to get that he was kept, in
spite of his shortcomings.
"Some man across the lake was anxious to pre-
vent the formation of this company because he
had an idea of getting possession of the property
for his own use and profit. He must have learned
HI
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[July,
in some way that the success of the enterprise
depended upon the ability of the company to ar-
range terms with Mrs. Spencer and Mr. Samuel-
son, because— too late— he called upon them, and
tried to induce them to decline the proposition
which had been submitted to them.
"This they were not at liberty to do, having
signed certain agreements, but evidently this
shrewd schemer planned to prevent the perfor-
mance of the contracts by getting possession of
the papers.
"He did not destroy them, or in any way alter
them. Mrs. Spencer examined the contents of
the box this morning, and nothing has been dis-
turbed. She supposes that he had some hope
that the men who proposed to organize this com-
pany would become discouraged and disgusted
when they learned of the delay which would be
occasioned, and would give up the idea. In this
case his plan would be to have the box then found
and restored, and make a bid on his own account
for the property.
"He doubtless hired this man whom you
thought a hermit to take the box and keep it in
a safe hiding-place until it should be needed.
He was shrewd enough to avoid having the box
in his possession at any time, so that he could
claim to have no knowledge of the affair, if nec-
essary. You will see that some of these conclu-
sions can only be guessed at, but they seem quite
reasonable.
"I think the guardian of the box and the
schemer from across the lake were the two
prowlers who disturbed our sleep night before
last. Perhaps they were meeting here to plan
what next should be done.
"At any rate, the box now is in the hands of its
owner, with contents unharmed, so there is good
cause for a celebration of the glorious Fourth."
"Hooray !" cried Lefty.
"Well, how about our stuff being dragged out
into the woods, and the sign, and the cat left
here, and those tricks ?" Tom asked. "The vil-
lain and the assistant villain were n't responsible
for those things, — were they? Or were they?"
The doctor shook his head. "No. Mr. Ray-
mond always left the keys to his buildings here
with Mr. Samuelson, and I think Mrs. Spencer
did, too. In their absence, he looked after the
property and had repairs made when necessary.
Mr. Samuelson arranged with Neighbor Pettingill
to bring our baggage and freight over from the
North Rutland station, and evidently he did so.
I suppose some of our neighbors are trying to
play a few tricks on us. The fact that those boys
in the village assured us the place is haunted
seems to indicate something of the sort."
"Why did n't Mrs. Spencer want us to talk
about Mr. Samuelson?" Tom wanted to know.
"As soon as the box disappeared, he left home
to trace it. He did not want his absence talked
about too freely in the neighborhood. He was at
Mrs. Spencer's cottage this morning when I
called, and is much relieved to know that the
matter is settled."
"What has become of Fido?" Tad inquired.
"I don't know. I rather think Fido and his
master will disappear from the neighborhood.
You are not at all likely to see either of them
again."
"Farewell, Fido !" Tad murmured. "Joy be
your portion evermore !"
"Another thing !" the doctor announced. "There
will be a little celebration this evening at Mrs.
Spencer's cottage, and we are invited. On your
behalf, I accepted with much pleasure. Is that
according to your wishes?"
"Sure thing !" cried Lefty, with much enthusi-
asm. "I am very anxious to see — er — Cjax
again."
And the others seemed equally delighted at the
prospect.
They discussed the mystery of the tin box with
considerable enthusiasm, and the spirits of the
boys rose rapidly. The reaction from gloom and
apprehension carried them into a condition of
exhilaration and noisy animation.
Tad lifted his cap from his curly locks. "A
great weight has been taken off my mind," he
announced. "No more do my eyes behold dismal
visions of prison bars ! No more do my ears hear
the dull clanking of chains ! No more does my
nose — er — what does my nose do?"
"Reflects the beauteous sunset," Tom told him.
"If I were as green as you, and had such a sun-
burned nose, I 'd be afraid people would mistake
me for a poppy plant in full bloom."
"Why, the idea !" gasped Tad. "Hear the child
talk! Never mind! It 's only jealousy that
makes him allude to my peachblow complexion !"
In the afternoon they had a jolly frolic in the
lake, and used every noise-making article that the
camp could furnish in an effort properly to cele-
brate the day. When all the gunpowder available
had been sacrificed to salute the birthday of na-
tional independence, and the ardor of the cele-
brators had somewhat cooled, the Beaver Camp-
ers carefully inspected their several wardrobes
so that they might appear at their best when they
visited Mrs. Spencer during the evening.
"A collar feels extremely dressy after you 've
been wearing a flannel shirt !" Lefty groaned.
"Ah ! behold Bill in his white ducks. I see where
William Ainsworth, Junior, makes a hit, all right !"
IQI2.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
819
THE BEAVER CAMPERS CELEBRATE THE GLORIOUS FOURTH.
Cousin Willie laughed good-naturedly. Al-
ready he had caught the camp spirit, so conta-
gious in this merry company, and it is doubtful
if those who had known him in the city would
have realized at once that this was indeed the
same William Langley Ainsworth, Jr., of their
acquaintance.
"I 'd lend you a pair, Lefty, only they would n't
fit," he replied.
"Can you sit down in those things, Bill?"
Charlie asked.
It was the first time that any one but Lefty had
addressed him by this name, and the boy's satis-
faction grew measurably larger.
"Sure ! Why not ?"
"I should think you 'd be afraid of getting
them dirty."
"Oh, they can be washed, you know."
"Why, yes ! That 's the reason they call 'em
ducks," Tad explained. "They take to water so
easily. Who 's got a button-hook?"
"Going to take your mandolin along, Tad?"
Cousin Willie asked.
"I don't know ! I guess so !"
"Sure ! Take it along, Tad !" the others urged.
The Beaver Campers found Mrs. Spencer wait-
ing to receive them, and soon were chatting pleas-
antly with her two daughters, and two nieces
who were spending the vacation with her.
Of course the boys had to tell the story of their
adventure, which resulted so happily, and their
audience was entirely sympathetic and plainly in-
terested.
Then there were fireworks to be displayed, and
the campers gallantly offered to set these off, that
the ladies might be saved exposure to possible
danger.
Tad and his mandolin helped the evening to
pass very pleasantly. He played a few instru-
mental pieces, then changed to songs which the
others knew, and soon the clear, young voices
were raised in chorus, much to the delight of
Mrs. Spencer.
No celebration which numbers boys among the
guests is quite complete without refreshments,
and Mrs. Spencer knew boy life well enough to
appreciate this fact.
Shortly before ten o'clock, they were invited
into the dining-room where they had eaten the
first meal after their arrival. This time it was
820
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
not lunch which was offered, but plenty of ice-
cream and home-made chocolate cake cut in gen-
erous slices. To this festal fare the guests gave
prompt and devoted attention.
A little more music followed, then the Beaver
Campers reluctantly spoke their words of part-
ing, and started back toward camp. Already they
felt well acquainted with Mrs. Spencer, and per-
haps equally so with the four girls. This prom-
ised to be an added feature of enjoyment in fu-
ture plans.
"Well, it 's been a really glorious Fourth !"
Tom remarked. "We 've had a fine day of it."
"Yes," Walter agreed. "You never can tell
how a day is going to end by the way it starts."
To which philosophical remark there was a
chorus of assent from all the boys as they made
ready to enjoy the luxury of the new camp beds.
( To be contmued. )
THE DAISY FIELD. FAINTED BY CHARLES C. CUKEAN.
THE TRIPLETS' PLAIN PARTY
BY ELIZABETH PRICE
Chapter I
The "Triplets" had stayed for a belated recita-
tion, so everybody else had finished luncheon
when they took their seats at the table.
"We 're sorry, Mrs. Bainbridge," apologized
Eurie, unfolding her napkin. "But it was a case
of necessity."
Madeline laughed out gleefully. "As if you
needed to explain !" she said. "Don't you think
Mrs. Bainbridge knows we are sorry if we have
to be late for a meal ?"
"And that nothing less than a 'case of neces-
sity' ever keeps us from the table?" finished Kitty.
"Of course she knows it, girls !" Eurie as-
sumed a superior look. "But it is usual in polite
society, to which / have been accustomed, to ask
people's pardon when you inconvenience them,
even if they already know why you do so."
"Thanks, awfully. Your lessons on etiquette,
Miss Martin, are the only safeguards of our be-
havior. Are n't they, Mad?"
"Sure thing ! Mrs. Bainbridge, is there any
more of this delicious soup, or are we too late
to deserve any?"
The little woman smiled quietly. "There is
plenty of soup," she assured her young boarder.
"And it 's all right about your being late ; one
cannot always be on time."
"Only in this case it was three who could n't,
and that hinders, I know."
Madeline passed her empty plate, and, as her
landlady left the room, remarked impressively :
"There is always plenty here. Nothing ever gives
out — I never saw anything like it. But say, girls,
do you suppose Mrs. Bainbridge ever eats any-
thing?"
"Really, I can't be sure, since I 've had no ocu-
lar demonstration that she does, but the infer-
ence is that she must— sometimes, you know."
Madeline shook her head. "I don't believe it,"
she declared. "We 've been in this dining-room
early and late, and even between meals, yet we 've
never surprised Mrs. B. at the table. She 's
learned the true inwardness of total abstinence,
that 's my opinion."
"Well, hand me that salad, and stop wasting
precious time on what does n't concern you.
There 's an exam at three— maybe the fact has
slipped your mind."
"I only wish it had !" Madeline nibbled a roll sor-
rowfully, for examinations were not her favorite
pastime. The subject being changed, the three
tongues rattled on at a lively rate, teachers, les-
sons, and athletics each receiving a share of at-
tention, till Kitty finally started up with a quick
exclamation. "Girls, do you see that clock?
We '11 have to fly !"
"I 'm afraid we ought to ask forgiveness again,
Mrs. Bainbridge," Eurie paused to say. "We 've
stayed so long and eaten so much. But we were
hungry, and everything is so good. I wonder if
you know what a dandy cook you are."
"It is n't your fault if I don't," Mrs. Bain-
bridge replied appreciatively. "You young ladies
make the best of everything."
"But how about you? Don't you ever take
time to sit down and enjoy your goodies?"
"Oh, yes, in a way. But, Miss Martin, it is n't
the same when you do all the cooking and plan-
ning yourself. By the time one woman markets,
arranges, and prepares the food, she has had
almost enough of it."
"And no wonder ! Such a quantity as it takes
for your hungry tribe, too. All of us are rave-
nous always, are n't we? Good-by."
"They are fine girls." It was n't the first time
the little boarding-house keeper had made this re-
mark to herself, apropos of the Triplets, who
were n't triplets at all, but, being inseparable
friends and chums, had been nicknamed by their
acquaintances in true school-girl fashion. They
were students in the near-by high school, but, as
their homes were some miles away in a neighbor-
ing town, the three, with a number of other out-
of-town students, found a pleasant boarding-home
with Mrs. Bainbridge.
There was a "spread" after school in the room
of one of the older girls, and the Triplets were
invited. The affair was more elaborate than the
usual impromptu feasts, and the guests were duly
impressed by its elegance. The Triplets were
talking it over as they lounged before their open
fire that evening. Lessons were finished for the
day, and Eurie stretched her arms in luxu-
rious ease as she declared : "I feel so leisurely
now— just as if I should n't have to join the gen-
eral scramble the minute I step out of bed in the
morning. Girls, were n't those sandwiches the
best things ever?"
"Which ones? Hortense's cream-cheese and
brown bread?"
"Yes, and that fudge. What do you suppose
she ever did to make it so creamy and delicious ?"
822
THE TRIPLETS' PLAIN PARTY
[July,
"Don't ask me. Mine invariably sugars, as you
are aware," and Madeline scowled darkly as she
recalled repeated attempts and dismal failures in
the manufacture of her favorite dainty.
"You can make gorgeous marshmallow butter-
cups," comforted Kitty. "You ought n't to ex-
pect to excel in everything."
"I don't — not quite," modestly confessed Made-
line. "Eurie, do stop poking those coals to de-
struction, and tell us what 's on your mind ! As
sure as you get an idea, you vent it on the fire
and freeze us."
Eurie set the poker primly in its rack. "I am
going to give a party," she announced, in the tone
of one who expected opposition but was pre-
pared to combat it.
"All right," was Madeline's cheerful rejoinder,
while Kitty added: "Of course we '11 have to,
after all the invitations we 've accepted."
Eurie still wore her defensive expression. "No,
not that sort," she declared. "Not an obligation
party, but just a— a — a plain party."
"Neither ruffles nor bias folds on her festivity,"
teased Kitty, nodding at Madeline.
"Go on, Eureka ! The certainty cannot be more
harrowing than this suspense. Tell us the worst
at once, I beg."
"There is n't any 'worst' to it, Kit. It 's going
to be lovely, and you '11 both help me." Eurie
reached for the poker again, but Kitty got it first
and hung it away in the closet, so her friend
folded her hands and went on : "The idea has
been simmering in my brain all afternoon, and
since Hortense's party it has taken definite
shape — "
"Like the genii that issued from the casket in
the old fairy tale?"
"Exactly. Kindly refrain from further inter-
ruption. You remember how at Hortense's there
was almost an embarrassment of riches and other
bonbons. I could n't help thinking how some
people would enjoy all those goodies— people who
s r
"'I AM GOING TO GIVE A PARTY,' EURIE ANNOUNCED.
"Yes, both, and tucks and embroidery besides," don't usually get invited to such places. So my
insisted Eurie. party is going to be different; a sweet, homelike
Madeline yawned and leaned back comfortably, affair."
"Too much for me," she said. "I may feel able to "Nothing like frankness in describing the at-
tackle puzzles to-morrow, but I draw the line now." tractions of your own spreads," said Kitty.
igiz.J
THE TRIPLETS' PLAIN PARTY
823
"So I think. I 'm going to ask only the girls "Oh, I see. A house-party, where the guests
we know real well, and who will enter into the spend a week."
spirit of the occasion, with hearty enthusiasm." "Nonsense. We can do a lot of things in an
"'IT S ALL PERFECTLY DELICIOUS!'
SAID MRS. BAINBRIDGE."
"If it is n't too much trouble to explain, what
is 'the spirit of the occasion?' "
"And, incidentally, what is the occasion ?"
"You girls are a great trial to me at times."
Eurie sighed resignedly. "When one yearns for
sympathy and intuitive understanding, it is most
discouraging to have to stop and explain that
b-a-t spells bat."
"Give our intuitions the merest crumb of a
clue, and they '11 go straight to work," promised
Madeline.
"Sympathy has to have some foundation to rest
upon. It is n't like an orchid, which subsists on
oxygen— or is it carbonic-acid gas?" This from
Kitty, who was studying botany.
"Now do hush and be as sensible as you can,
girls," said Eurie, "and help me to think of every
nice thing we can do. Mandolins, you know, and
glees and charades and a sketching contest."
afternoon — Saturday, of course — and have a
dream of a spread, too."
"I utterly refuse to go to a party where the
refreshments are only dreamed of," began Kitty,
but Eurie withered her with a glance.
"Chafing-dish stunts," the announcement pro-
ceeded, "and Russian tea, with little bits of
pickles and crisp crackers and olives and cara-
mels and cheese-straws."
"Served in the order named?" asked Madeline,
meekly.
"Of course not, goose ! You are to be the god-
dess of the chafing-dish, because you can do all
the creamed things so well. Kitty, you can at-
tend to the tea, because you can't cook a human
thing—"
"Which, not being a cannibal, I do not contra-
dict," interpolated that young lady.
"There is something still unrevealed." Made-
line spoke with conviction. "She has n't told us
the reason for this inspiration. I feel it !"
824
THE TRIPLETS' PLAIN PARTY
[July,
"I can do it in two words. Mrs. Bainbridge."
"Wha-at?"
"You heard. Yes, I mean it. I am— or, rather,
we are — going to make her our guest of honor
and entertain her royally, and, for once, give her
something to eat she has n't had to prepare or
even think about till it 's set before her !"
"Oh, but, Eurie ! grown-ups would n't care for
our harum-scarum spreads. We '11 have to have
table-cloths and dishes, and — "
"No, ma'am." Eurie was firm. "Just a regular
school-girl frolic, eatables and all. She '11 enjoy
it, but even if she did n't it would do her good
and give her something to think about for a day
or two besides pork and beef and ice-cream."
"Maybe she might enjoy a change."
Kitty's voice was thoughtful, but Eurie was
positive.
"Enjoy it? She 's suffering for it. She 's been
as good as she could be to us girls all winter, and
we have n't done a thing to show we appreciate
it. I think it 's time we did."
"If you are determined to go outside our ranks,
had n't we better borrow the dining-room?"
"No— no — no ! Don't you see that the dining-
room is the main thing we want to keep her out
of— that and the kitchen?"
"But she could n't spare the time on Saturday.
She 's always too busy."
"I thought about that, too. Girls — " Eurie
paused long enough to make her next sentence
impressive — "we, the Triplets, are going to help
her with her work all Saturday forenoon. We
will rub silver, polish glass, pare potatoes, and
make French dressing, till our landlady won't
have the ghost of an excuse to decline our invita-
tion."
"Well, did you ever?" demanded Madeline.
"Cool, to say the least," remarked Kitty.
Eurie rocked calmly on. "There 's no use get-
ting tragic," she declared. "It 's decided, and
there 's nothing to do but fall in line. Honestly,
girls, put us in her place. She is n't old nor ugly
— though if she was both she 'd still be human —
and she 's overworked and uncomplaining and
good to us — and — she needs a lark."
"Anything else?" Kitty's tone was mildly
ironical.
"Several things, only I had to stop to take
breath. Anyhow, that 's enough, and we 're going
to give her the time of her life." The speaker
paused, but there was no response, so she bowed
politely and remarked : "Thanks, ever so much.
I knew I could depend on you both."
"Come on to bed, Mad. We could argue
straight through till breakfast-time, and when
Eurie 's in her present mood she 'd be unmoved."
Kitty twitched her room-mate's sleeve, but
Madeline sat still. "I guess she 's right," she re-
marked presently. "I don't suppose it would be
much fun to cook and wash dishes all the time
without any recreation, and if we do it we might
as well do it right."
"My sentiments, exactly." Eurie beamed.
"Of course I '11 give in when all my Triplets
are against me," Kitty said, with mock gravity,
but her eyes were bright as she added inconsis-
tently: "She is a dear and no mistake. She shall
have a lark to remember, or it sha'n't be our fault."
Chapter II
Mrs. Bainbridge was in the kitchen next day
when they waylaid her. Not that the fact was at
all remarkable, for she spent much of her time
in that humble but very important apartment.
She had a little worried line between her eyes,
for Sarah Jane, her helpless "help," had just de-
molished a treasured dish, and the roast for din-
ner had not put in an appearance. She sighed
heavily just as three bright faces peeped through
the slide and three blithe voices chimed a greet-
ing. She smiled, of course— who would n't with
a picture like that in sight?
"Just one minute, Mrs. Bainbridge." Eurie
was spokesman. "We are n't going to bother;
we 've come to invite you to a party up in our
room, Saturday from two-thirty to five-thirty.
Oh, yes, you can. Why, bless you, lady mine !
you 're the guest of honor— you can't send re-
grets. Yes, we do want you, so much we mean
to have you. You won't be too busy— we 're
coming to help you get ready. No, indeed ! no full
dress; gingham aprons if you like. Just a frolic,
Mrs. Bainbridge. You '11 enjoy it. Good-by."
The three bright faces disappeared as suddenly
as they had come, but somehow the kitchen
seemed less gloomy. "The dears!" exclaimed
Mrs. Bainbridge. "The idea of their asking me
to their party !" Sarah Jane stared stupidly while
her mistress wiped a suspicious dimness from
eyes that nevertheless shone softly. "I 'd love to
go. They do have such good times together. I
often hear them laughing and singing, and it al-
most makes me forget that I 'm not a girl myself
again. After all, it has n't been so long since I
was their age. Bless their hearts ! Sarah Jane,
you may lay those pieces on the shelf. I think
the dish can be mended."
"But you told me to throw them away, ma'am."
"So I did, but I 've changed my mind. And
there comes the butcher's boy, so the roast is in
time after all. It does me a world of good to
think they want me, though of course I can't go."
1912.]
THE TRIPLETS' PLAIN PARTY
825
But of course she did. She had not counted on
her would-be hostesses when she said that. Early
Saturday morning they appeared, "armed for the
fray," as Kitty expressed it. Mrs. Bainbridge be-
gan a polite refusal of their assistance, but she
never finished it, for Eurie seized broom and
duster as one to the manner born, Kitty took
forcible possession of dish-mop and tea-towel,
while Madeline fell to seeding raisins with a prac-
tised hand. "You see," she assured her bewildered
landlady, "we are not solely ornamental. We 've
been brought up to know a few useful things, just
for the sake of variety."
Mrs. Bainbridge came to believe it before the
morning was gone, for the work disappeared as
by magic, and the drudgery of the Saturday bak-
ing was turned to a pleasure. Who would n't
enjoy making cake with an admiring trio to ex-
claim over its deliciousness? Or pies, when three
assistants begged for directions for making the
flaky crust? Of course it kept them busy the
morning long, but as they left to dress for lunch-
eon, Eurie waited to say : "Two-thirty, sharp,
Mrs. Bainbridge. We 've got dinner planned so
Sarah Jane can't spoil it if she tries, though, to
relieve your own mind, I suggest that you put her
to bed for the afternoon."
"I am coming if my dinner goes to rack and
ruin !" was the reckless rejoinder. "After all that
has been done to prove that you want me to go, I
could n't do less than prove that I want to go.
I '11 be there, you dears !"
"She 's coming; now it 's up to us to make
good." Eurie was earnest if slangy.
"We '11 do it, never fear, even though it is a
trifle complicated to run a boarding-house and
cater for a banquet at one and the same time.
Eurie, have you any alcohol for the chafing-dish?"
"I have. Also some oysters and patty-shells.
Everything 's in the big bandbox. My hat? Oh,
it 's in there somewhere. Don't spill that milk
over my Sunday gown if you can help it. Kitty,
count the spoons, will you? Not as a precau-
tionary measure, but just to see if I must ask my
guests to bring their own utensils. Somebody
hook me up, please, while I open the olives."
They had kept their word in the matter of in-
vitations, so the girls who helped to entertain the
"guest of honor" that Saturday afternoon were
as pleasant as one could wish to meet, and obeyed
to a man the strict injunction each had received.
"You are to act as if there was n't a soul there
but ourselves. Be as silly and giggly as usual,
and do all your entertainment stunts as if you
were alone with your looking-glass."
Mrs. Bainbridge, in a pretty black dress, with
a girlish pink bow in her hair, entered into the
Vol. XXXIX. -104.
fun with all her might, and after a while took her
turn at the program and told a Southern dialect
tale inimitably. That brought down the house,
as it were, and put her on an equality with her
entertainers. "Age limitations" were lost sight of,
dignity forgotten, and stiffness thrown to the winds.
"But we '11 have to get at our spread, girls, or
we '11 never finish by five-thirty," insisted Eurie,
at last, passing pickles as she spoke and following
them with caramels. Nobody cared, and, stranger
still, nobody suffered from indigestion afterward,
though every rule of dietetics was shattered. As
for Mrs. Bainbridge, they heaped her plate with
every dainty the bandbox offered, and she en-
joyed them all.
"I have n't eaten as much in years," she de-
clared at last. "Those patties were nectar and
ambrosia."
"Not half as good as the ones you make," said
Kitty, emphatically. "And, to be quite frank, the
tea is bitter and the cheese-straws tough. But
everything goes at our spreads, Mrs. Bainbridge."
That lady sighed contentedly. "It 's all per-
fectly delicious. Yes, Miss Madeline, just one
more spoonful. I shall not eat anything there is
down-stairs after this. No common boiled ham
and mince-pies for me to-night !"
They would n't let her go till she had promised
to spend an evening with each girl in turn, and
had almost consented to a "reading" in her own
parlor, where some of the favorite teachers from
the school could be invited.
She broke away at last and hurried to the
kitchen and the dinner for her boarders, but she
ran down the stairs as if a half-dozen years had'
fallen away from her since she ascended them,
and hummed blithely over her range the refrain
of a college glee.
Up-stairs the Triplets were talking it over.
"She 's a regular Cinderella in disguise !" de-
clared Eurie. "I always knew she was nice, but
I never dreamed how nice !"
"We started out to be self-sacrificing, but we
surely did get left." Kitty's diction was emphatic,
if not above reproach. "She 's as full of fun as any
girl in the lot when she gets a chance to show it."
"We '11 count her in after this whenever she '11
let us," said Madeline. And they did.
It was a small thing, yes, but it led to many
pleasant happenings, as small things sometimes
do. The little landlady never again had to listen
to the girlish song and laughter in her upper
rooms, with a wistful longing for her own girl-
hood, only a little way behind. Instead, she was
freely "counted in," both giving and receiving
help. But of all her girl friends none were quite
so near and dear as the Triplets.
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE
Chapter XVII
HIS EXCELLENCY, GENERAL WASHINGTON
Brother John was so happy and so boyish, and
so earnest withal, "that I caught his enthusiasm
over this good news from France.
"Oh, I am pleased!" I cried; "I hoped the pa-
per would secure me a welcome, but if 't will help
to beat the British and free us from slavery, I
am more than glad !"
"Listen to the little rebel !" he mocked gaily.
"When and where have you come by such trea-
sonous notions?"
And this, of course, led me to tell of Captain
Timmons and of our talks together.
"I fear 't will be a long time ere we see the
captain again," said Brother John, rather sadly.
"He and the crew have certainly been taken, and
will be shipped to England. No doubt he ex-
pected to be exchanged sooner or later, and then
give us the location of the cargo. But now 't is
like to stay hid till the end of the war, and we
need powder this minute."
"But I know where 't was hid," I exclaimed.
"Nay, do you, Bee? Then you are a treasure
indeed ! Tell me !" he cried.
But though the words were on the tip of my
tongue, they would not come, and for a while I
racked my brains.
"Aye, now I have it !" I said at last. " 'T is
ten miles north-northeast of the Candlestick."
"But where is the Candlestick?" asked Brother
John, in perplexity.
"Nay, that I cannot tell you," I replied; "but
Captain Timmons said that all the men on his
part of the coast knew the Candlestick and — "
"Then we '11 find it, be well assured of that !"
he vowed. And it will not be amiss to say here
that it was found, and right useful it proved.
Meanwhile Brother John had been rowing
hard, and we were now rapidly approaching the
town of New York, which was situated on a point
of land running between two great rivers.
I looked eagerly ahead as we approached it, and
was surprised to see, instead of Indian wigwams,
pleasant houses with gardens coming down to
the water's edge.
But no sooner had Brother John brought his
boat to land than he hurried me into the town.
Once or twice we were stopped by sentries, and
there were barricades in some of the streets.
Soldiers were everywhere in a uniform that,
though strange to me then, was to become very
familiar ; and all about there were signs of great
activity and preparation; for, although I did not
know it, the British were expected to attack at
any moment.
"And where are we going now?" I asked Bro-
ther John as we hurried along.
"To General Washington," he told me.
"But must I go?" I demurred; for from what
I had heard of General Washington, not only
from Captain Timmons, who seemed to worship
him, but from the British officers as well, I
thought he must be so great and splendid that I
was awed at being obliged to go before him.
"Aye, indeed you are to go !" he cried. "Think
you I would miss the chance of presenting so
brave a sister? And, moreover, His Excellency
would be sure to send for you; so I am saving a
trip."
"But my dress and— and— " but he cut me short.
"General Washington won't heed your clothes,"
he answered, "though he is somewhat particular
on such matters, too. Come along and fear not.
He is the best man in the whole world."
Shortly we reached a house before which stood
sentries. There was some little delay before we
were admitted, and Brother John grew impatient ;
but at last we were shown into a large room off
the hall.
As we entered, the hum of voices stopped and
the heads of some half-dozen officers turned in
our direction.
" 'T is Jack Travers," I heard some one say,
and then two or three of them stepped back, leav-
ing an opening in the group; and I saw General
Washington for the first time.
There was no need to name him. I knew it
must be he from the look in his face as he turned
it toward us. He was so tall and stately that I
thought no king could be half so commanding.
He stepped forward to meet us with a rather
anxious face, I thought.
"You have it?" he asked, and his voice thrilled
me.
"Yes, Your Excellency," answered Brother
John, saluting. "And here is the maid who
brought it. May I present to Your Excellency
my sometime cousin, now my sister by adoption,
Mistress Beatrice Travers."
My heart fluttered as General Washington
turned his eyes to me, and why I know not, ex-
cept that I was scarce aware of what I was
826
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
827
doing, I stood very straight, and, putting my
hand to my head, made a military salute as had
Brother John. A look of surprise came into the
general's face, but, with much gravity, he raised
his hand to his forehead in acknowledgment, and
that action brought me to my senses.
"Oh, pardon me, Your Excellency !" I cried, my
face going crimson with embarrassment; and I
made the best courtesy of which I was capable.
"Nay, do not ask pardon," he said, taking my
hand. "I think no man ever received a greater
nor a sincerer compliment." And he smiled,
bowing over my hand as if I had been a great
lady.
With that he took the paper that I held out to
him, and, with, "Your pardon, gentlemen," he
read it through, with a very earnest face. At the
end he lifted his head, and I saw that he was
much pleased.
" 'T is all we have a right to expect," he said
musingly, "and must be despatched with all speed
to Philadelphia. Mr. Travers," he went on,
handing Brother John the paper, "you will pro-
ceed at once to deliver this to Congress. This
will fit in with the safe disposition of Mistress
Beatrice, whom, I doubt not, you will be glad to
see settled in Germantown. Once that is accom-
plished, ydu will report to Captain McLane."
"But, Your Excellency," Brother John broke
in, and his face showed anything but pleasure,
"the British may attack at any moment now, and
I will miss all the fighting !"
"Enough !" cried General Washington, in so
angry a voice that every one in the room jumped.
"Enough, sir ! Must I give my orders twice ?
You talk of fighting as if it were the whole duty
of a soldier. His duty is to obey without words.
Think you, Mr. Travers, that I like to stay
back of the lines in safety, or that I never long
to be in the thick of it? Each man of us has his
part, and yours is to proceed as I have directed
you without further delay."
He paused, and the red flush of anger that had
mantled his face died out, leaving it a little
drawn ; then he turned to me.
"Mistress Beatrice Travers," and his voice had
changed so that I scarce knew it for the same,
"I read your letter to your cousin, Mr. Travers,
and know with what faithfulness, zeal, and cour-
age you have performed a most difficult task.
For the welcome message that you bring the
thanks of this sorely tried country are due you.
Were the matter not a secret one, I should be
glad to recommend to Congress that some special
note be taken of it. That being impossible, I can
only give you my words of thanks, and a pledge
that my services are always at your command."
With that he held out his hand to me, bowing
low to my courtesy ; and though I wanted to say
something, the words would not come to my
tongue.
Somehow or other I found myself outside the
room again, trying to keep up with Brother John,
who strode along at a rapid pace.
"Oh, is n't he splendid !" I cried, meaning, of
course, General Washington.
"Aye, he 's splendid," Brother John agreed,
"and I would go through fire and water at his
nod; but," he added, "he has a testy temper when
he 's crossed."
Brother John grumbled mightily for a while
because he was to miss the fighting, but that did
not hinder his prompt despatch upon his mission.
Two hours later we were across the river in New
Jersey, having stopped only long enough in New
York to buy the few things I stood most urgently
in need of.
He was overjoyed to find that I could ride a
horse, and, a pair being procured, we set off in
high spirits ; for it was not Brother John's way
to be gloomy overlong, no matter what might
happen.
There is no need to dwell on this first journey
of mine in America. We met all manner of sol-
diers and officers hurrying toward New York, and
all stopped us for news of what was going for-
ward. Every one of these seemed extremely gay
and happy, as if they were on a picnic rather than
a war, at which Brother John would often shake
his head, predicting that there would be another
story to tell ere long. The weather was exceed-
ingly hot, and the inns at which we were forced
to stop for food and lodging were overcrowded,
and our accommodation was so bad that I was
well content to leave them in the early morning
as soon as the sun was up.
Many, many things interested me, and I think
Brother John must have been well-nigh distracted
by my constant questions ; but he never showed it,
and now I find that what I most remember of that
ride was the fact that he and I became, in truth,
like brother and sister.
He seemed scarce older than Horrie, though
he was bigger and stronger, of course, but he had
a boyish recklessness and gaiety about him that
made me love him at once ; and soon we were as
intimate as though we had been brought up to-
gether.
We crossed the Delaware River at a little town
called Trenton, that was to become famous later
on, and arrived in Germantown the third day.
I need not tell you that by this time I had gotten
all over my funny notions that people in America
dressed in tiger skins and lived in wigwams. Bro-
828
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[July,
ther John had laughed very heartily when I told
him what I had expected, but I had no notion
what his home in Germantown would be like. He
had spoken of Mrs. Mummer, his housekeeper,
and of Mummer, her husband, who had been his
father's body-servant and was now steward of
the estates. But he had given me no idea of the
size and splendidness of it all, so that when we
turned into a lane bordered by beautiful trees,
and he said, "This is Denewood," I thought we
would come to the house at once, though, as yet,
I could see nothing of it.
But in this I was vastly mistaken. We rode on
and on through a wonderful forest that now and
then opened out, showing meadows and grain
fields such as are seen only on the finest estates
in England ; and when at length we came to a
broad lawn running up a gentle rise to a splendid
house set on the crest of a hill, I held back my
horse and stopped to look about me.
"And is it all yours, Brother John?" I asked in
amazement.
"Yes," he answered ; "all as far as you can see.
And yours, too, if you find that you can be com-
fortable in my— my — 'wigwim,' " he ended, with a
little laugh.
But I was too much impressed to think of aught
but how beautiful it all was.
We rode on again and came to the house,
where many servants, both white and black, ran
out to welcome their master and to look curi-
ously at the little girl he had brought with him.
At the door stood a plain, kindly faced woman
with a smile of welcome for her master that
showed a whole-hearted devotion, and behind her
stood a thin, lantern-jawed man, his face twisted
in a wry smile. These I knew to be Mrs. Mum-
mer and her husband.
"We had news of you when you entered the
woods, Master John, and there is food ready,"
were Mrs. Mummer's first words.
"Aye, you 're going to stuff me as usual !" cried
Brother John, patting her shoulder. "But here is
another you must care for," he went on, bring-
ing me forward. "The boy we expected, Mrs.
Mummer, has turned out to be a maid, whom you
have only to know to love as I do."
"Aye," returned Mrs. Mummer, stooping down
and putting an arm about me, "I knew that the
moment I set eyes on her pretty face." And she
kissed me on the cheek, and I, glad, of the com-
fort of having a woman near me once more, put
my arms about her eagerly.
But Brother John had no time to lose, and after
a hurried meal was off again to Philadelphia.
"Mrs. Mummer," he said before he left us,
"you will see to it that the servants understand
that while I am away Miss Beatrice stands in my
place in this house. To her, with your help, I
intrust the honor and hospitality of Denewood.
Good-by, little sister," he went on, stooping and
kissing me ; " 't is a great comfort to know you
will be here to welcome me when I return, for
it has been a very big home for just one lone
man."
There were tears in my eyes when I stood in
the portico with Mrs. Mummer and waved to him
as he rode out of sight— and well there might be,
for my heart went with him.
That night I took out my little book to write
therein what had happened that day, and my eye
caught the words of the prophecy set forth on
the first page.
" 'She shall find happiness across great wa-
ters,' " I read. Surely it was a true prophecy,
and my heart was full of thankfulness ; for I had
come among those who would love me, and had
found a new home.
Then, noting the bit of the sixpence hanging
about my neck, I thought of those other words
of the Egyptian :
" 'The half shall be luckier than the -whole.' "
Had that prophecy, too, been fulfilled? I
thought so then, but I was mistaken.
Chapter XVIII
DOCTOR FRANKLIN
My first weeks at Denewood passed in a sort of
dream. There was so much that was new, and
the place itself was so extensive, that a large part
of my time was spent in exploring the huge man-
sion and grounds. I had determined not to be a
drone, and soon had my own special duties in that
busy household. For Mrs. Mummer I developed
a real affection, and she for me, and from her
I learned much about Brother John and his fa-
ther, who had been a most prosperous merchant,
well respected of all Philadelphia, and had left
this large estate and many trading ships to his
only son.
There were many servants, both black and
white, and many horses and cattle on the place ;
these were all under Mr. Mummer, a capable and
valued steward albeit the most silent of men,
whose name fitted as does a glove the hand. Mrs.
Mummer would have me believe that he was in
reality a talkative person, for she was constantly
repeating some saying of his, either wise or witty,
as the case might be, but I, for one, though he
always treated me most respectfully, found it dif-
ficult to get more than a word or two out of him.
That summer was a time of preparation for the
American patriots, and there was a bustling about
igi2.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
829
all over the country. War was in the air, and we
at Denewood talked of little else, seeing that
scarce a day went by that troops of newly mus-
tered men did not pass our way on their march
to join General Washington's army.
And for us, too, it was a time of preparation.
Even before I had come, Mrs. Mummer had be-
gun laying away a vast store of provisions for
the cold season ; and when I asked what it was all
for, she answered, as she often did, with a quota-
tion from her husband.
" 'In time of peace prepare for war,' so Mum-
mer says. There 's many depend upon this house
in winter, so I will make ready all I can."
Great quantities of flour, with corn and vege-
tables grown upon the place, were hid in deep
vaults under the house, and, wherever it was pos-
sible, the entrances were sealed up so that no one
would guess what lay behind the walls.
"Mummer says," Mrs. Mummer explained,
"that war may well pass this way, and that an
army is like a horde of locusts that devour all in
their path. So I mean to keep something for our-
selves in case of need."
Nor did Mrs. Mummer stop at what the farm
produced. When salt had risen to twenty-five
shillings the bushel, she doled it out as if it was
so much gold; but she sent off to Philadelphia,
which was but ten miles away, whenever she
heard of a ship-load arriving, to buy as much as
the regulations would permit.
"For," she said dubiously, shaking her head,
" 't will go higher, and salt we must have."
I, too, did my share. There were jellies and
jams to be made, and many other ways in which
I could help Mrs. Mummer, so that she compli-
mented me, telling me she wondered how she
managed before I came. The days were long,
for we were up at cockcrow, but they passed
quickly nevertheless.
Of Brother John we saw little. He would
come galloping in at the most unexpected times,
perhaps only for a fresh horee, and would be off
with scarce a word to any of us; but this was
rare, for usually Mrs. Mummer would insist upon
his staying long enough for some "decent food."
One day early in October he sent word ahead
that he would be there to dine with a party of
gentlemen on their way to town, and bade us see
to it that the entertainment was worthy of Dene-
wood. Mrs. Mummer went about her preparation
calmly. There had been many distinguished
guests in that house, and this was no new matter.
But when it came to dressing me, she was all in
a flutter, and well-nigh distracted me.
Since I had left my outfit on board the Good
Will, I had been rather limited in my wardrobe,
having only those things that might be purchased
in the shops of Philadelphia, and none of these
suited Mrs. Mummer.
At last, however, the weighty matter was de-
cided.
"This Indian muslin must e'en do," she said dis-
consolately. "But next year you shall have a
gown worked over every inch of it. I '11 make it
with my own hands."
"Nay, and what 's wrong with the muslin ?" I
asked, thinking it very pretty.
"There is nothing wrong, but 't is scarce good
enough for to-night's guest," replied Mrs. Mum-
mer.
"Why, who will be here?" I asked, for I ex-
pected only some officers of the army.
"Doctor Franklin," she answered ; "Mummer
says he is second but to General Washington him-
self."
Now, of course, Doctor Franklin's name had
been in every one's mouth, were he Whig or Tory,
and when I heard this news, I was like to be as
flustered as Mrs. Mummer.
Finally I was dressed to her satisfaction, and
she held me at arm's-length for a moment.
"Sure, you 're a picture !" she said. "Mr. John
wants you to have a maid, but I tell him none
shall care for you but a childless, cross old wo-
man by the name of Mummer."
"Nay, I want no other !" I said, and flung my
arms about her, for she had been as a mother to
me.
"Now bless your pretty ways !" she answered,
with a hug. "But look to your dress and do not
muss it. 'T is time for you to be off" ; which was
true enough, for we heard the men's voices in the
hall below.
There were, perhaps, half a dozen gentlemen
assembled as I descended the broad stairway, but
one standing before the fire attracted my atten-
tion at once, perhaps because his dull, brown
dress was in sharp contrast to the brighter uni-
forms about it. He was far from young, with a
rather large, flat face, and I should not call him
a pretty man, yet somehow I was drawn to him
from the first.
As I reached the last step, he looked up and
caught sight of me, whereupon he smiled broadly.
"Here she is!" he cried; "here is my hated
rival, the writer of Maxims !" and he stepped for-
ward and held out his hand. "Perhaps some day
you will let me take a peep into that book and so
start 'Poor Richard' on again."
" 'T is Doctor Franklin, Bee," said Brother
John, coming up; and I made my most respectful
courtesy.
I was not awed, though that must have been
830
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[July,
because I was a child, for, save that of General
Washington, there is no greater name in the his-
tory of those times than Benjamin Franklin.
But what surprised me was that he should have
knowledge of my book of Maxims, and I wanted
to ask him about it then and there, but at that
moment Sam, our black serving-man, announced
dinner.
Doctor Franklin at once offered me his arm
and led me forth like a great lady, the other gen-
tlemen following.
Of the talk that night I remember some little,
for I put down in my book several sayings I
heard there. Of course it was all on one subject,
the war with England. Some were gloomy, others
recklessly confident, but all seemed determined
to go on as they had begun to the end of the
matter.
During the sweets, mention was made of Doc-
tor Franklin's approaching departure for France,
and there were many expressions of regret.
"We can ill spare you just now, sir," said Mr.
Philips, "particularly from Philadelphia."
"In truth Philadelphia is a hotbed of Tories,"
said Doctor Franklin ; "and when they are not
Tories, they are what I like less : those who sit
upon the fence with a leg on either side, ready
to drop to safety no matter what befall."
"But we have some true patriots in Philadel-
phia," protested one gentleman.
"But all should be patriots," said Doctor Frank-
lin. "Who shall row a man's galley if he will not
set his own back to the oar?"
"Should France come out openly for us, there
will be a scramble to our side of the fence,"
laughed Brother John ; "and that Doctor Frank-
lin will secure for us."
"But no one can be spared here," Mr. Philips
insisted, "the doctor least of all."
"Nay, you all exaggerate," said Doctor Frank-
lin. "As I told His Excellency, General Wash-
ington, I cannot fight. As the drapers say of
their remnants of cloth, I am but a fag-end, at
seventy years. If you will have the truth, gen-
tlemen, I shall be of more use there than here."
So the talk ran on till it was time for me to
withdraw, and I rose, making my courtesy to the
table. Much to my surprise Doctor Franklin got
to his feet also, and escorted me out of the room
to the foot of the stairs, talking all the while.
"And now, Miss Maker of Maxims, good-by,"
he said, holding out his hand.
"But pray, Doctor Franklin," I said, "I have
been dying all the evening to ask the question,
but feared to interrupt. How did you know of
Granny's maxims? There 's scarce a soul in the
colonies who has heard of them, I think."
"My dear," he began, "if you will promise to
cease saying 'the colonies' and to remember that
you are living in the United States of America,
I will tell you."
"I shall try," I vowed.
"Good !" he went on ; "and now for your ques-
tion. I am but lately come from a useless meet-
ing with Lord Howe. He is a most gallant gen-
tleman ; but, if he thinks to win his cause with
pardon for those who ask it not, he must fail, as
he himself no doubt sees by this time. However,
it seemed you disappeared rather suddenly and
mysteriously from among them, and they in-
quired of your safe arrival. That led to our
speaking of your book of Maxims, which Lord
Howe gave up to you most reluctantly, I have
his word for that."
"Do you know what was concealed in the
book?" I asked in a whisper.
He nodded. " 'T is somewhat on account of
that message that I go to France."
"And I 'm sure you will convince them there,"
I said earnestly. "People say you are a wizard."
"And that I get messages from the clouds,"
he laughed. "Well, 't is not difficult to bewitch
the enemy's brains."
"Did you do that?" I asked.
"Aye, by just speaking the plain truth to
them," he answered, "for honesty is the best
policy; and there 's a maxim for your book."
With that he kissed my hand and I ran up-
stairs.
But before I went to rest I had to recount all
to Mrs. Mummer, and then Brother John slipped
in for a moment to say good night and good-by.
"What thought you of Doctor Franklin?" he
asked. "Did you like him as well as General
Washington?"
"General Washington is splendid," I answered
seriously, "and he is wonderful, too, but he
seems very far away. Even when he speaks to
you most kindly, 't is as if he were a cold moun-
tain top and you were but a little flower growing
down in the valley. But Doctor Franklin is like
a nice, hot stove. He is near and comfortable."
Brother John exploded with laughter.
"Oh, I should love to tell him that !". he ex-
claimed.
"Don't, please!" I begged in agony.
"I won't," he promised; "but you know he
would n't mind. He has invented a kind of stove
that is most comfortable, and beside, he had a
compliment for you."
"Oh, tell me !" I cried eagerly.
"He congratulated me upon the new mistress
of Denewood," said Brother John, and with a
kiss he left me to return to Philadelphia.
I9I2-]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
831
'T was with such occasional visits and din-
ner parties that the monotony of the autumn and
early winter was broken; for Denewood was a
convenient place of meeting between certain
gentlemen of influence in Philadelphia and those
who were with the army in New Jersey. But
for- the most part we were alone, and my only
companion was Mrs. Mummer. True, there
were children living near us; but Mrs. Mum-
mer said plainly that they were "Tory turn-
coats," and that I must have nothing to do with
them.
So for a while I was a little lonely, but this
came to an end one fine winter morning. As I
ran down-stairs to breakfast, I heard the sounds
of children's voices outside the front door, and
opened it myself. There stood a girl somewhat
older than I, a boy of about my own age, and
two little girls. At sight of me the girls drew
back, but the boy stepped forward.
"I am Barton Travers," he said, with a rather
conceited air; "and I have brought my sisters to
stop here. Who are you?"
His manner was so rough that I was angered,
though at first I had been delighted at the
thought that here were visitors near my own
age ; then I remembered that Brother John had
said that all who came should be entertained, so
I tried not to show my resentment.
"You are very welcome ; won't you come in ?"
I said.
"But who are you?" the boy demanded again.
"My name is Beatrice," I replied, "and I am
Mr. Travers's sister."
"Nay, 't is not so," he retorted ; "John Travers
hath no sister."
"That is true," I answered, trying to keep my
temper, "but I am his cousin out of England, and
we call each other brother and sister."
"I wonder John Travers hath an English Tory
in his house !" he burst out rudely. " 'T is then
no place for honest Whigs like us."
"Nay, I am no Tory !" I replied hotly, for this
was more than I could bear. "Come in if you
will, and if not, at least let your sisters in out
of the cold," and with that I went up to the
largest girl and took hold of her hand.
She listlessly let me have it, and the older of
the two small maids clung to her ; but the young-
est, a girl of five, looked up into my face and
laughed aloud.
"I like you, Bu-Bu-Beatrice," she said, with
a funny, little stammer, "and I '11 help you
fi-fi-fight with Bu-Bu-Bart."
At this there was a laugh which seemed to
smooth out all the difficulties, and though the
boy, sure that I was a detested Tory, still looked
at me askance, they all came in, and Mrs. Mum-
mer feasted us with hot chocolate.
The children were distant cousins of Brother
John. Their mother had died long ago, and
their father was fighting with Washington's
army. Their home was in Haddonfield, in New
Jersey; but since the defeat of the patriot army
in New York and the steady advance of the
British toward Philadelphia, their father thought
it better that they should be in Germantown,
and you may be sure I was glad to have them.
Stammering little Peggy was my favorite, though
in time I came to like Bart too ; but Polly and
Betty, the two older girls, were far too fine for
me, and seemed to care for naught but their
looks and the fashions, so that I was constantly
reminded of my cousin Isabella in England.
Still the winter passed the more pleasantly
for their being with us, and, except for Bart,
we were all well content, especially as the schools
were closed the greater part of the time, and we
had but to amuse ourselves.
Peggy and I played little with dolls, but when
we did, it was always at a war game, and we
had soldiers "dressed in brown and buff, or in
red, like the Pennsylvania troop. Sometimes
Bart would condescend to help us, telling us
how to post our sentries and what to do to
make it seem real. When I grew to know him
better, I found that he was not a bad fellow.
What galled him was not being allowed to go to
the war. He was a patriot and longed to fight
for freedom.
"I can shoot," said he, "as well as any man.
I can march as far, and I would eat less."
But his father had forbidden his going, saying
that if he were shot, there would be no one left
to look after the girls. This was a sop that did
not satisfy Bart. He suspected that it was only
said to render him the more content, and his
disposition suffered from his disappointment.
Spring came again, with the planting, and
soon summer was upon us. In August the Con-
tinental troops paraded through Philadelphia
wearing green sprigs in their hats, and all of us
went to see them. What a fine show they made !
While they were passing, there were in America
no better patriots than Polly and Betty ; but, like
many another in the city that day, their feeling
soon changed to the other side.
So far, though we had heard of little else than
the war, it had not come near us, but in Septem-
ber there were rumors of our defeat in a battle
at Brandywine Creek, and one day Mummer ran
into the house with a face like ashes.
"The Hessians have entered Philadelphia," he
cried ; "and they will soon be upon us !"
832
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[July,
With that he left us, trusting that his wife
would know what measures to take in the house
while he looked after the farm.
Mrs. Mummer at once secreted all the silver
in one of the vaults and raised the Turkey car-
pets. Costly hangings and paintings were put
away, and in a short time the place was dis-
mantled of everything of value that could be
hidden.
On the farm the horses and cows were driven
into the woods to a place where 't was hoped'
they would not be found, and we did what we
could to prepare for what surely would come to
us unless all reports of depredations and out-
rages committed by the British forces were false.
But we had scarce finished the half of what
we had planned, when one of the darky boys
tore in with a blanched face, crying that the red-
coats were on the road.
Ten minutes later, as I was about to go up-
stairs to my room for something, there was a
galloping of horses, and then a thundering knock
on the door.
"Open !," cried a voice ; "open in the name of
the King!"
Chapter XIX
I MAKE AN ENEMY
I scarce can tell why, but for a full minute I
stood as one palsied. Then came another tre-
mendous knock and shout.
"Open in the name of the King!" and with
that there sounded a pattering of small feet
along the passage. It was Peggy, and glad was
I to see her, as if she had been a giant come
to protect me.
"Cu-cu-come on, Bu-Bu-Bee!" she cried; "I '11
help you to fi-fi-fight the Bub-Bub-British !" and
she took my hand and together we opened the
door.
Before us stood a number of officers, and be-
hind them on the lawn were many soldiers. All
looked dusty, tired, and hungry, and the private
soldiers eyed the place, wondering, no doubt,
what they would find to fill their empty stomachs.
One of the officers doffed his hat as we came
out, and, half apologetically, and in a most pleas-
ant voice, spoke :
"I am come to ask if you will give us food
and lodging for the night."
"And mayhap for some time to come," another
snarled; "why ask when you can take?" he
added.
"Strangers are never turned away from
Denewood," I answered, as coolly as I could for
a beating heart. ' 'T is the custom in this house-
hold to give food willingly to those who ask."
."Is it the custom also to furnish horses?" the
rougher of the two sneered ; "because I must on
to Philadelphia, and the nag I have is foundered."
"Most of our horses are gone," I answered;
"we have but two or three in the stable ; I will do
what I can, though the best I have may not suit
you."
"It needs must suit," he replied. "Have it up
at once, for I cannot even stay to eat."
A black stable-boy named Charley had come
within ear-shot, and, at a nod from me, went off
to get a horse. We stood waiting on the portico
till he should return, for I was glad to speed so
churlish a man on his way; and while we were
there Mrs. Mummer appeared and took in the
situation at a glance.
"Well," she said, addressing the officers, "Mum-
mer says, 'what can't be cured must be endured,'
so I suppose you 've come to stay ?"
"Aye, my good woman," said the first officer,
with a patronizing air ; "if you will look after the
men — "
"Nay," Mrs. Mummer cut in, her hands on her
hips, "I 'm no good woman of yours ! My name
is Mrs. Mummer, and I '11 be glad, sir, if you '11
remember it. As for your men, forsooth, they '11
have to work for their keep. You 've scared
nigh all the servants from the place, and there 's
wood to carry and water to draw, and I know
not how much else to do, to feed that lot of hun-
gry soldiers."
I feared the officer would resent Mrs. Mum-
mer's words, they seemed over-bold to me, yet he
but laughed.
"Your pardon, Mrs. Mummer," he returned;
"by all means make them work. They '11 be glad
enough to do it, I warrant, if it brings their din-
ners to them the sooner."
By this time Charley had come with a saddled
horse for the other officer. Where he had found
it I know not, for so forlorn and dismal-looking
a beast never lived at Denewood. I was for
making some protest, but Charley caught my eye,
and I saw a twinkle of mischief in his, and held
my peace. And I was like to laugh outright at
the contrast between the sorry animal and the
gorgeously dressed man who was to ride it.
He, on seeing it, turned on me angrily.
"Now what 's this?" he demanded loudly.
" 'T-t-t is a ho-ho-horse !" cried Peggy, at the
top of her small voice. "C-ca-can't you see it 's
fu-fu-funny legs?"
Whereat there was an explosion of laughter
from all the officers about us.
"Gad, Blundell," cried one of them, "did you
think it was a bu-bu-bu-bear ?"
The man at first fumed and then smiled rather
1912.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
833
sourly. I saw that he was really vexed, and ere
long would take it out on some one, so I wanted
to be rid of him.
"Charley," I asked the boy, "is that the best
horse you have in the stables?"
" 'Deed, Miss Bee," he said, touching his cap,
"he 's a fine horse, 'deed he is. I 'low he ain't got
much style, but he 's spry, Miss Bee, he suttenly
am spry. You don't think I 'd bring nothin' but
de best we has for dese British gemmens?"
No sooner had Mr. Blundell put foot in the
stirrup than the horse began to show signs of the
"spryness" Charley had predicted; and when he
flung his leg over and settled in the saddle, it
straightway bounded in the air, throwing up its
head in a most violent manner, and coming again
to earth with all four legs stiff as boards. This
it did again and again, so that a good horse-
man would have had difficulty to keep his seat ;
and Blundell was far from a good horseman, as
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"But will the beast carry me to Philadelphia?"
demanded Blundell.
"Did n't you hear the boy say he was spry," cut
in an officer. Blundell shook his head doubtfully.
"If that 's the best you have, put the saddle
back on my own horse," he commanded Charley;
and I saw the boy's face fall.
"Sink me!" said another of the officers, "I '11
wager Blundell 's afraid to ride the beast."
It was said in a tantalizing way ; it hit the mark.
"Fetch me the horse," said Blundell to Charley,
angrily, "and I '11 show you whether I can ride
it or not!" And with that he strode down and
prepared to mount. We watched eagerly, for all
were curious to see him seated on that sorry nag.
Vol. XXXIX. — 105-106. (To be
might have been guessed from his sensitiveness
to the taunt that he was afraid. So after a plunge
or two, he landed, sprawling, in the middle of the
road, amid the boisterous laughter of all.
Now I,.too, laughed — no one could have helped
it — and it was plain that the man was not hurt,
for he leaped to his feet, the picture of fury.
"You rebel vixen !" he cried, venting all his
spleen on me ; " 't is a trick you and that black
rascal have put upon me ! I would that I had
time to catch him now, but I promise you he '11
be well beaten when I return. There was a bur
under that saddle, I '11 warrant !" And with that
he stalked off toward the stables, and soon went
clattering away on the horse that had brought him.
continued.)
SEEING THE
.
Sy N. F. %_
president
Richardson
-_.. ___ <^ *
Oh, Grandma, could you ever guess !
Oh, Grandma, did you see?
The President went down our street,
And he took off his hat to me!
You know the others go to school,
And, just before they went,
They said they 'd have to hurry
So they 'd see the President.
I cried a little, though I 'm big
(But Mother thinks I 'm small) ;
And I was 'fraid I would n't see
The President at all.
But Mother said that I could go
And stand out by the gate,
And maybe he might pass our house,
If I would only wait.
And then he did! I waved my hand,
And he saw me and smiled, —
The others all had gone to school,
So I was the only child.
Maybe the other girls and boys
All heard him speak, but he
Just smiled and smiled, then raised his hand-
And he took off his hat to me !
Papa says he 's a great big man
In more ways than in one,
I don't know always what he means —
Sometimes it 's only fun.
But I know this : the President
Is not too big to see
A little girl when she waves her hand.
And he took off his hat to me!
tVt
834
'A DUET." DRAWN BY GERTRUDE A. KAY.
835
JUST FOR FUN
DURING.
JOHNNY'S FOURTH OF JULY ORATION. DRAWN BY C. F. LESTER.
TROUBLE IN HIGH LIFE. DRAWN BY CULMER BARNES.
836
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
AND HER CHEERFUL LITTLE DOLL
(.4 " To-be-continued" story for Middle-Aged Little Folk)
BY CAROLINE STETSON ALLEN
Chapter I
CHOOSING THE DOLL
Dear little girl, how much do you love your doll ?
Does she sit close beside you at breakfast and
share your bread and butter? Does she sit in
your lap when you coast, with your brother steer-
ing in front? And then, in the June days, when
you and your doll are out in the fields, do you
put her hand on the daisy petals and teach her,
"One I love, two I love, three I love, they say?"
I knew a little girl who loved her doll quite as
much as you love yours. This little girl's name
was Elizabeth, and she lived in a pleasant village.
Elizabeth had long been wanting a new doll.
"But there 's Edith Grace Ermyntrude," said
Mama.
"Yes, but she looks so grown-up, and her ears
have melted off," said Elizabeth.
"And there 's Jamie Gordon."
"Yes ; but boy dolls are n't as much fun," said
Elizabeth, still more sadly.
"And there 's Susie Jane. You surely love
her?" said Cousin Eleanor.
"Oh, yes, I love her!" And Elizabeth flew to
catch her up from her willow cradle. "But Susie
Jane needs a sister near her own age. She 's
growing selfish."
So on Elizabeth's seventh birthday, Mama told
her to put on her second-best hat (the one
trimmed with brown ribbon and buttercups), and
said they would walk to Miss Field's shop to buy
a new doll. Elizabeth jumped up and down five
times with joy, and ran as quickly as she could
to the closet under the stairs for her hat.
"May Susie Jane come too, Mama?" she asked.
Mama was going to say "no," because Susie
Jane looked as shabby as shabby could be; but
she glanced at Elizabeth, and said "yes."
Elizabeth and her mama, Mrs. Dale, walked
out of the front door, and down the path to the
gate. The path was bordered with box ; and
when Mrs. Dale looked toward the fence on her
side, she saw hollyhocks growing; and when
Elizabeth looked toward the fence on her side,
she saw sweet-peas growing.
And they raised the latch of the low green
gate, and walked out into the narrow lane, and
down the lane where a wood-thrush was singing,
and so to the street which led to the shop. I am
really glad we have got to this part of the story,
because I know you would like to go into this
shop. It was n't like any other toy-shop. It was
kept by a young lady who, even though she was
grown up, was very fond of dolls. Her shop was
arranged in three rooms, and as Elizabeth and
Mama came up the street, they saw a doll looking
smilingly out of the front window of each roonu.
One room was devoted to dolls' dressmaking,
and two girls sat in this room, cutting, fitting,
and sewing the dearest little petticoats, frocks,
pinafores, and bonnets for dolls. How their
fingers flew, to be sure !
In the second room a girl was making birthday
cakes, and fruit tarts, candies, and mottos, to be
used at children's tea-parties.
The third and last room was most important of
all, for here sat rows upon rows of dressed dolls
— rubber dolls, wooden dolls, china dolls, wax
dolls, and other kinds, of all sizes, ready for sale.
Miss Field herself, who was as pretty as a pink,
and old enough to wear her hair on top of her
head, stayed in this room and waited on the
customers.
Now Mama supposed it would take, at the very
least, ten minutes for Elizabeth to choose a doll ;
but five minutes had not gone by, when Elizabeth
said decidedly: "This one, Mama dear, please!"
And no sooner had Mama looked at the doll
than she knew why it was chosen. The reason
was that its cheeks were so pink. Perhaps you
think they were as pink as apple-blossoms?
Pinker than that. As pink as the inside of a
shell? Pinker! As pink as Baby's corals? Full}'
as pink, and I really think a trifle pinker. I
can't tell you the exact shade, but it certainly was
charming; and as she gazed at the doll, Eliza-
beth's own cheeks grew very rosy indeed.
The doll had soft, curly brown hair, bright
blue eyes, a pretty mouth, and could say "Mama !"
"I won't climb trees with her — not ever," said
Elizabeth.
"It is in-de-struc-ti-ble," said Miss Field, softly.
And then her mama said : "Yes, we will take it.
And now I would like to look at those little
parasols."
Guess whether she bought one, and I will tell
you the answer in the next chapter.
837
838
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
[July,
Chapter II
NAMING THE DOLL
She did ! the parasol had blue and white stripes,
with the tiniest forget-me-nots sprinkled over
the white stripes. It opened and shut easily.
Elizabeth carried the doll home, but you
him into the house, and up into the nursery,
where he found, in the cupboard, a two-inch red
flag, and hung it out of the window. "It 's safer
for the neighbors !" said he.
Don't you find it interesting to choose names?
I do. It is half the fun when there is a new baby
in the family. And with one's own doll and ever
' THIS ONE, MAMA DEAR, PLEASE !
(SEE PAGE 837.
must n't think Susie Jane was forgotten. She was
carried just as carefully under the other arm.
When they reached home, and turned in at the
green gate, there was Uncle Nathaniel ; and he
looked fearfully frightened, and jumped behind
the nearest apple-tree.
"What is the matter, Nathaniel ?" asked Mama.
"Scarlet fever !" cried Uncle Nathaniel, point-
ing at the new doll's cheeks. Elizabeth chased
so many names to choose from — well, no wonder
Elizabeth looked beamingly happy, as she sat in
her little rocking-chair with the new doll in her
lap.
"Have n't you thought of a name yet?" asked
her brother Jack, after a few minutes. "I could
name the thing right off ! Call it Ann. That 's
a good short name."
"Oh, Jack !" said Elizabeth, "you don't know
I9I2-]
AND HER CHEERFUL LITTLE DOLL
839
in the least about naming a doll ! Shortness
is n't all. It must be a pretty name, and it must
be after somebody— somebody I love; and it must
be a name the children around here have n't got
for their dolls."
"Don't name her Dorothy then. There are six
on this street," said ten-year-old Sophie. "I '11
tell you ! Let 's all write the name we like best,
and put them in this box ; and then you shut your
eyes and take out two."
"That would be fine !" said Elizabeth.
So she called in Grandpapa and Grandmama
and Mama, and Uncle Nathaniel, and Cousin
Eleanor, and big Brother Bob. To each
was handed a slip of paper, and Sophie
passed around pencils. Every one wrote,
and these were the names they
chose : Grandpapa wrote Daisy, be-
cause he thought that the
sort of name a little' girl of
seven would like. Grand-
mama wrote Elizabeth, think-
ing her little granddaughter
would like to give the doll
her own name. Mama wrote
Grandmama's name, Lucy ;
Uncle Nathaniel wrote Red-
cheeks, just for fun. Cousin
Eleanor wrote Alice, because
she thought it the most beau-
tiful of names. Big Brother
Bob wrote Jemima, the name
of their last-but-one cook,
famous for her waffles and
pop-overs. Sophie wrote
Elsie ; Charlotte wrote Bea-
trice ; and Jack (with a defi-
ant air) wrote Ann. Down
in Yarmouthport lived Aunt
Alice, who was "a perfect
love," as Cousin Eleanor
said ; and the name Elizabeth
herself wrote was Alice, be-
cause of this aunt.
And now a strange thing happened. When the
papers had all been put into the box and shaken
up by Jack as hard as he could shake, Elizabeth
shut her eyes tight, and drew out two of the slips.
She then opened her eyes and read the names,
and "Oh, what do you think !" she cried; "they 're
both Alice ! And Alice is the very name I
wanted !" And then all the family clapped their
hands, and big Brother Bob and Cousin Eleanor
especially clapped so hard that Teddy Hallowell
ran over from next door to see "what those Dales
were up to now." Every one, even Jack, agreed
that the doll's name certainly ought to be Alice.
The christening was next day at three o'clock,
in the clover-field back of the house, with only
the family invited, though the calf, Bossy, seemed
to like looking on with the rest.
Grandpapa gave up his afternoon nap to come,
and complimented Elizabeth on the becomingness
HE LET FALL A PERFECT SHOWER OF TINY SUGAR-PLUMS.
of Susie Jane's new buff frock, and on Alice's
complexion, surprisingly healthy for one who had
lived for some months in a shop.
They sat in a big spreading circle on the soft
green grass under a butternut-tree. All the little
girls wore girdles of daisy-chains, and Jack a
daisy in his buttonhole. Edith Grace Ermyn-
trude, Jamie Gordon, and Susie Jane (you re-
member, these were Elizabeth's other dolls) were
made to look as if holding one another's hands,
and the children sang for them a favorite hymn,
"Brothers and sisters, hand in hand." Maybe you,
too, have sung it on Sunday evenings at home.
840
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
[July,
Next, Mama made a little speech, and this is
what she said :
"My darling children, I am glad that we have
such a bright, sunny day, and I only wish your
Aunt Alice could be with us. I am sure it will
please her when she knows that her name was
chosen for Elizabeth's doll. Every one loves
Aunt Alice, because she makes people happy.
When you are playing with this doll, try, your-
selves, to be like this dear aunty, and teach the
doll to have kind ways. She can let other little
girls' dolls share her hammock, her books, and
her toys of every sort. We wi]l try, and they will
try, to treat all these things carefully; but if any
of the playthings are injured, Alice must be
patient, must n't she, dears? I hope you will
dress her simply; a doll should never wear jew-
elry on the street. Don't give her rich food, for
I am sure you wish her to keep those rosy
cheeks."
Then Mama, who, while she made this speech,
had been standing, sat down, and Grandpapa
stood up.
"Your mama is, as usual, perfectly right," said
he ; "but the sugar at the doll-shop is so extremely
pure, that we may, on great occasions, like the
present, indulge in a little candy."
With these words, he put his hand in his
pocket, raised it high in the air, and let fall a
perfect shower of tiny sugar-plums— pink, brown,
yellow, green, red, and white ; and the circle was
for a moment broken up, as the children scram-
bled all about to pick them up. Grandpapa's
speech, though short, was thought to be very
good.
It was followed by another song. Then Eliza-
beth said: "I name my doll — "
"Ann," said Jack, loudly.
"No— Alice! I name her Alice, because Aunt
Alice is so kind, and because I want my child to
grow up just like her."
Then the family jumped up from under the
butternut-tree. They said good-by to the babbling
brook and to the calf, Bossy, and walked home.
For the christening was over, and Elizabeth's
doll had, for always, the beautiful name Alice.
"Don't you think my speech was best ?" asked
Grandpapa.
Guess if the children said yes, and I will tell
you the answer in the next chapter.
Chapter III
THE DOLL'S CLOTHES
They did !
Well, now would you like to hear about all the
different things in Elizabeth's doll's wardrobe?
Elizabeth had for her new doll, Alice, a nice
little bureau. In the top drawer she kept Alice's
handkerchiefs (six, and all neatly hemmed and
marked with A, made by Elizabeth herself), her
hair-ribbons, sashes, locket, beads, and other little
ornaments. In the middle drawer she kept Alice's
hoods, hats, knit jackets, and her morning, after-
noon, and Sunday pinafores. The morning pina-
fores were of brown-and-white and blue-and-
white checked gingham, and were high-necked
and long-sleeved. They were to wear while work-
ing. The afternoon pinafores were also high-
necked and long-sleeved, but were made of white
barred muslin. The Sunday pinafores were of
dotted white muslin, low-necked and short-
sleeved, and were daintily edged with narrow
lace. They also had pockets, edged with lace.
Cousin Eleanor had filled the lowest drawer
with such neat piles of snowy underwear ! Grand-
mama said it really was a joy to look in that
lowest drawer. The stockings she knit were in
it too. Oh, and I want to tell you that she finally
decided to knit six pairs,— three pairs of stockings
and three pairs of short socks. These socks, worn
with ankle-tie slippers, were much admired by
Elizabeth's friends. The party slippers were
pink, the Sunday ones bronze, and the every-day
ones black.
Alice's best hat was one she had worn home
from the doll-shop. It was truly exquisite, made
of the finest white muslin, with a wreath of
eleven pink rosebuds. It fastened under the chin
with pink satin ribbon, three eighths of an inch
wide. Her every-day hat was of white pique, the
wide brim cut in little scallops all around.
Among the scraps taken from the chest in the
attic was a piece of green-and-blue plaid, and
Cousin Eleanor found that, by piecing under the
hood, there was just enough of it to make a
waterproof. It was the Gordon plaid, which, you
know, has a yellow thread in it, and Cousin
Eleanor lined the hood with yellow silk to match.
As to Alice's frocks, she had a white lawn, a
"Dolly Varden" muslin, a pink cashmere, and a
blue pique. These were all for best wear. Then
she had useful gingham frocks, some striped and
some checked, made by a simple pattern and
drawn in at the waist with a narrow brown
leather belt. I wish you could have seen her in
one of these every-day frocks, climbing a cur-
rant-bush to get at an especially large, juicy red
currant she spied at the top. Elizabeth was all
ready to catch her if she fell. And was n't it
lucky that Alice was in-de-struc-ti-ble?
Alice looked very cunning, too, in her new
bathing-suit. This was made of white flannel,
trimmed with several rows of light green braid.
1912.]
AND HER CHEERFUL LITTLE DOLL
841
Sophie and Elizabeth and Charlotte some-
times played out in the meadow, the same meadow
where Alice was christened. And the brook
flashed in the sun, and babbled its low, crooning
song, to which the daisies nodded drowsily.
Sometimes a bright blue darning-needle whizzed
near them. Butterflies— brown, yellow, and white
—tilted on the swaying grasses. Bossy, the calf,
played, too, and the children were very happy.
Jack thought it rather stupid under the butter-
'YOUK MAMA IS N T AS YOUNG AS SHE WAS ONCE,
SAID ELIZABETH."
nut-tree. He liked better to fly his kite, and to
dash with it from end to end of. the field, Giest,
the puppy, at his heels. The dolls sat in a row
facing their young mothers. How quickly sup-
per-time came ! Would Mama remember that
they wanted their bread and milk on the piazza
instead of indoors?
Guess whether she did or not, and I will tell
you the answer in the next chapter.
Chapter IV
HOW THE DOLL WORKED
She did n't ! Ah, I caught you that time ! But
wait a moment ! As it happened, it did n't make
one bit of difference that she forgot, because
Uncle Nathaniel did remember, and reminded
Mama of the children's wish just as the blue-and-
white bowls were being put on the dining-room
table.
The next Monday, as Elizabeth was starting,
directly after breakfast, to play in the nursery,
Cousin Eleanor brought from the kitchen a basket
of peas, and asked her to help her shell them.
So Elizabeth sat on the top step of the side
porch, and she held Alice in her lap and showed
her how to run her little thumb along the edge of
the light green pod. Pop ! why, this was as good
as torpedoes on the Fourth of July ! Out tum-
bled the peas, with a merry clatter, into the shin-
ing pan. Three peas bounced out onto the floor.
"Be careful, deary," said Elizabeth, "your
mama is n't as young as she was once." And she
hopped down nimbly, in spite of her seven years,
and picked up the peas. Alice took great pains
with the next pod.
"Are you at play?" asked Grandpapa, passing
through to the vegetable garden.
"No, indeed, Grandpapa," said Elizabeth;
"we 're zvorking very hard."
"Bless your bright eyes!" said Grandpapa;
"don't work too hard." And he passed on to see
how his tomatoes were coming along.
"Playing?" asked Uncle Nathaniel, coming up
the steps with the morning mail.
"No, Uncle Nathaniel, I 'm working hard,"
said Elizabeth.
"Don't work too hard," said Uncle Nathaniel,
as he went into the house.
"Sure 't is the rale hilp yez are !" said Hannah,
the cook, when Elizabeth brought her the peas,
all ready to be boiled for dinner.
After that, until the dinner-bell rang, Alice
took a sound nap in her own little red-and-white
hammock, while Cousin Eleanor and Sophie and
Elizabeth and Jack had a game of croquet.
But as the days and weeks passed on, the doll
was taught many kinds of work. When Baby's
cradle was made up, she smoothed the pillow and
tucked in the down coverlet. When Elizabeth
tidied the nursery, Alice, too, held a wee duster,
and dusted her own little bureau and rocking-
chair. When the table was being set, she helped
put around the bibs and napkins. And once — I
think it made her feel an inch taller — she filled
the salt-cellars! Oh, a doll, if she is obliging
and well-bred, can do many useful things.
Guess if Mama was pleased when she saw her
little girl and her little girl's doll helping so
cheerfully, instead of being a care to others, and
I will tell you the answer in the next chapter.
(To be continued.)
NATURE^5CIENCE por young to
edited by EDWARD F. BIGELOW ■ /^~\ lULlXZ) 1 WJ
INTERESTING EXPERIMENTS WITH
THE SIPHON
Every one knows that water flows downward.
This fact is as familiar to even our youngest
reader as is the fact that an unsupported pencil
will fall to the ground or to the floor. The
downward flow of water is due to exactly the
same cause as the fall of the pencil — that is, to
the power that we call the attraction of gravi-
tation. If the pencil is attached to a string, and
the string is passed over a pulley, it will balance
at the other end of the string a pencil as heavy
as itself, or will lift a pencil lighter than itself.
The same principle applies to water in a pipe.
When a pipe shaped like the inverted letter U,
I WAVED MY HAT IN DELIGHT; THE EXPERIMENT
WAS A SUCCESS.
It seemed to me that even the dog, " Daisy," appreciated the "magic."
in which the arms are of equal length, is filled
with water, and each end of the pipe is put into
a separate vessel full of water, "the downward
pull," or weight, of the liquid in each of the two
arms will balance the other, and, if the water is
at the same level in the two vessels, it will remain
at that level in both vessels. But if the level of
the water in one vessel is lower than in the other,
since the two vessels are connected with a pipe
full of water, the water will run down from the
higher level to the lower. This constitutes what
is called a siphon. A siphon itself has no more
magic about it than a pencil has when it falls, or
than any other similar phenomenon in nature, yet
some of the siphon's manifestations seem to be
not only magical, but almost incredible.
"I POURED IN WATER BY THE AID OF A FUNNEL UNTIL THE PIPE WAS FULL.'
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
843
I remember that in my early boyhood I took ward, but this downward slope was not necessary
advantage of this principle of the siphon, and to help me in what I intended should seem like a
made experiments. Near my home was a well magical performance. One man held the longer
from which water was drawn by a bucket^ and
poured into a big tub from which the cattle
drank. One day several of the workmen on the
farm were gathered around this well. On the
ground were several lengths of pipe that had been
taken from a disused pipe-line between a spring
in the distant pasture and the barn-yard. The
action of the siphon had always appealed to me,
and I quietly decided that I would play the magi-
cian and entertain these men with an exhibition
of the siphon in action. From the discarded pipe
I took a section about fifty feet in length, and
A SLANTING SIPHON CONNECTING TUMBLERS.
TWO FORMS OF SIPHONS THAT ARE "SELF-STARTING
AFTER SELF-STOPPING.
with the assistance of the men, who wondered
"what the boy was up to now," I bent it into a
curve so that the shorter branch was about twenty
feet in length and the longer branch thirty feet.
Holding the curved pipe in a horizontal position,
I poured in water by the aid of a funnel until the
pipe was full. Then I instructed a man to hold
his thumb over one end of the pipe, and another
man to hold his thumb over the other end. This
pipe, thus kept filled with water, had all its parts
in nearly the same level, because the curve was
held horizontally. We then lifted the curved part
in the air, and placed the shorter end in the tub
of water. The ground about the tub sloped down-
arm of the pipe near the ground several feet away.
And when I gave the order: "Remove thumbs!"
the water began to flow in a steady stream, and
continued to flow as long as there was water in
the tub. I must confess that, even to me, it seemed
almost like magic, when I realized that the water
was flowing upward for almost twenty feet into
the pipe, and doing it without any apparent cause.
Of course our young people understand that it
was the forcible downward "pulling" of the water
in the longer arm of the pipe that was stronger
than the weight of the water flowing upward in
A VERTICAL SIPHON CONNECTING BOTTLES.
844
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[July,
the shorter section, and that it was this continu-
ous downward "pull" that resulted in the contin-
THE LONGER AND HEAVIER COLUMN OF WATER IS " PULL-
ING " UP THE SHORTER COLUMN AS THE HEAVIER
LEAD-PENCIL IS PULLING UP THE SHORTER PENCIL.
uous flow. The upward flow of the water in the
shorter arm only depended upon the atmospheric
pressure of the water in the tub, because the flow
in the longer section tended to make a vacuum in
the curve ; but water was constantly driven in by
the atmospheric pressure to prevent the forma-
tion of a vacuum.
This siphon at the well tub is illustrated in the
heading to this article, and is also shown on a
smaller scale by the two tumblers with the curved
glass tube between them. Such a siphon will
"pull" water over an elevation about thirty-three
feet in height. The atmospheric pressure is not
great enough to lift it higher than this to supply a
vacuum. It will raise water to the curve as high
as a suction-pump will lift it, and for the same
reason— both depending upon the fact that water
can be raised by suction as long as its weight is
less than the force of atmospheric pressure.
Our young folks may easily construct siphons
in any form that they see fit, by using strong rub-
ber hose, or small glass tubing, which may be
easily bent into any desired shape by the aid of
a gas or alcohol flame. The accompanying illus-
tration shows a boy with a siphon, made of a
series of glass tubes connected by pieces of rub-
ber hose, that is only two inches lower at one end
than at the other, and yet is raising the water
some six feet above, and around, his head. The
water will flow from one tumbler into the other,
though the higher tumbler be raised, as in the
illustration, only two inches (or even less) above
the lower one, and the flow may be reversed by
lowering the emptied tumbler and raising the one
that has been filled. Thus the water can be made
to flow back and forth, at first upward, then
through the horizontal pipe above the boy's head,
and down on the other side. All that is required
is that the flow of the water be started by suction,
and then it will continue as long as there is water
in the higher vessel.
In all these forms of the siphon it is necessary
to start the flow every time that the siphon is
used. In the pipe at the well, I started it, as ex-
plained, by filling the pipe with water ; in the
piping over the boy's head we started it by suc-
tion ; that is, we drew the air from the tube, and
the pressure of the atmosphere on the water
forced the water into the siphon until it was filled,
when the downward pull of the liquid in the long
CONNECTING TWO AQUARIA BY
"SELF-ACTING" SIPHON.
arm started the flow, which continued as long as
there was any water to pull and to be pulled. It
required little force to pull the water around the
curve by suction at the end of the lower pipe.
I0T2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
845
THE WATER RISKS SEVERAL FEET FROM THE HIGHER
TUMBLER, THEN FLOWS ACROSS ABOVE THE BOY'S
HEAD, AND DOWN TO THE LOWER TUMBLER.
The current may be reversed by putting the two-inch block
under the other tumbler.
Siphons are used to draw off the liquid from a
vessel containing it, especially where there is sedi-
ment at the bottom and we desire to take off the
clear liquid without disturbing the sediment ; or
the reverse may be done, and we may remove the
sediment with little of the liquid. Thus the siphon
may be employed to remove the objectionable
refuse or debris from an aquarium, or for many
other useful purposes.
I recently had occasion to connect together a
series of aquaria, each with a glass bottom. It
was impossible for me to bore holes in the glass,
so I was necessarily forced to use the siphon ; but a
difficulty arose. If the siphon should fail to carry
out the water as fast as it ran in, the aquaria
would overflow; and if it should carry the water
out faster than it came in, the aquaria would soon
be empty and the siphon would no longer act, be-
cause the siphon could not fill itself. To over-
come all this I devised a form of siphon with up-
turned ends that will, after stopping, start into
action without any aid. In the books of physics
that I have examined I do not find this siphon
mentioned. It is a useful form because, when a
series of vessels are connected by it, the siphon
will regulate itself, and will keep the water always
at the same level. Adjustment is made by the
length of the last upward curve of the pipe. The
illustration shows the series of aquaria in which
the water is kept to within an inch of the top
of each.
These siphons, unlike the simpler ones men-
tioned in the books, may be lifted entirely out of
the water, and when replaced will at once, or
"voluntarily," as one may express it, resume their
work, because they keep full of water.
A series of tubs might be thus arranged for
fish, for watering cattle, or for other useful and
labor-saving purposes. These suggestions may
enable our young folks to make some interesting
experiments in the use of the siphon.
A PHOTOGRAPH OF A CROW BY HIMSELF
Mr. H. R. Carey invented a device by which a
crow took a photograph of himself when he
pecked the bait, which was connected with a
string that operated the shutter of the camera.
By courtesy of " Bird-Lore."
THE CROW'S SELF-PHOTOGRAPH.
846
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[July,
THE SEA-GOING RAILROAD
The railroad from the southeastern end of Flor-
ida to Key West is now completed and is open to
the public. It is, indeed, a remarkable engineer-
A SECTION OF THE RAILROAD EXTENDING
INTO THE SEA.
ing feat because it is really a railroad over the
sea. This is not a figure of speech, for, of the
one hundred and twenty-eight miles of track be-
tween Homestead and Key West, fully seventy-
five miles are over the water, and a considerable
portion is over the sea itself.
The series of islands known as the Florida
Keys may be called a series of stepping-stones
leading into the ocean. They extend between
the Florida peninsula and Key West in the form
of a curve, the channels that separate them vary-
ing in width from a few hundred feet to several
miles. Between the nearest key and the main-
land is a stretch of prairie or marsh with insuffi-
cient water to float dredges, and not enough ma-
terial within reach for wheelbarrow work. This
condition made it necessary to dig channels on
each side of the road-bed to accommodate the
dredges used in building this section of the em-
ON THE VIADUCT OF HCGE ARCHES.
bankment. Channels were first dug so as to pro-
vide a depth of two and one half feet of water.
Up these the two dredges slowly made their way,
each digging its own channel deeper. They piled
up between them the material thus dredged out,
and with it formed the road-bed. The progress
of the dredges was hampered and delayed in
many places by the rocks, which came so near the
surface as to necessitate the construction of
locks to float the dredges over them. Nearly
thirty islands are utilized for short stretches of
the construction, the longest being sixteen miles
Qn Key Largo. More than fifty miles of rock
and of earth embankment had to be put in where
the water is shallow, but, where the water is
deeper and the openings exposed to storms by
breaks in the outer reef, concrete viaducts were
igi2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
847
AN EXPRESS-TRAIN GOING OUT TO SEA OVER THE ARCHED VIADUCT.
built, consisting o-f arch spans and piers, or steel
bridges resting on concrete piers, some spans of
the latter being two hundred and forty feet. This
was the most difficult part of the work. The wa-
ter is from ten to thirty feet deep, and the bottom
is coralline rock. There are twenty-eight of
these arch viaducts, aggregating ten and eight
tenths miles in length, and eight steel bridges,
aggregating six and one tenth miles in length.
The longest viaduct is between Knight's Key
and Little Duck Key,' seven miles, and is called
the Knight's Key Viaduct. In many places the
embankment for the roadway is eight or nine
feet in height, the road-bed being ballasted with
coralline limestone, of which these islands are
composed. This makes a very strong, safe road.
Tn many places where the water is deep enough
to float an ocean steamship of large size, and
where the locality is exposed directly to the gales
from the Atlantic, much of the work has been
performed with floats, on which the concrete was
mixed and from which it was placed in position
by means of powerful derricks. In the shallower
waters molds for the foundation of the viaduct
were formed by driving piling which held in
place a water-tight framework, which, when the
water was pumped out, was filled with concrete.
This, the only railway of the kind in the world,
is now in actual operation, and reflects great
credit on modern enterprise and skill. Both land
and sea are laid under tribute ; and these islands,
which have been likened to lazy lizards sleeping
through uncounted centuries, now teem with life
and thrill with the rush of commerce.
•■Wfc»*: jdttpV^
: ■
A STRETCH OF STEEL BRIDGE AND CONCRETE PIER CONSTRUCTION.
848
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[July,
=3==S
^"BECAUSE- WE
(WANT TO KNOW
PUZZLING IMPRESSIONS ON THE EYES
Forest Gate, London, England.
Dear St. Nicholas : When I walk rapidly by vertical
railings, and, as I walk, look at some object on the other
side of these railings, all is clear. But when I turn away
the fence with upright and horizontal bars.
for a few seconds, there appear lines running before my
eyes. What I want to know is, why are these lines hori-
zontal, and why do they move horizontally, instead of being
vertical lines moving horizontally, as you would expect
from an image that remains in your eye ?
Yours, puzzled,
R. T. Clapp.
What happens is, that the upright bars of the
railing make no lasting impression on your eye.
As you look at the object on the other side of the
W ■:
W'l
SMI
■
w/Hiininin
wmm
■ I
ilil
^ SS5: ^ ^S
THE IMPRESSION ON THE EYES WAS OF HORIZONTAL
BARS (UPPER PART OF THIS ILLUSTRATION) AND NOT
VERTICAL (AS IN THE LOWER PART), AS ONE WOULD
SUPPOSE.
fence while you are walking along, the vertical
rods quickly pass in front of your eye and there
leave no after-image.
But the image of the horizontal bars always
falls on the same spot in the retina at the back
of your eye, and as, in walking, your eyes re-
main at the same height, the horizontal bars
remain in the same relation to the eyes and to
the object on the other side, and make a strong
impression on the retina. As they are darker
than the background, they produce a sharp after-
image when the eyes are turned away. There
seem to be several horizontal lines in the after-
image because you probably look for a while at
the upper part of that object on the other side,
then for a while at the middle part, then for a
while at the lower part. With every raising or
lowering of the eyes, the image of the horizontal
bars falls on another spot in the retina, and leaves
there the condition for another after-image, pro-
ducing in this way a series of parallel horizontal
lines. — H. M.
Note : A scientific friend says he has observed that when an automo-
bile passes under a light at night, the wheels seem to him to run back-
ward.
WHEN SPRING "PEEPERS" ARE HEARD
Purchase, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas: Can you tell me why peepers do
not peep in the morning? If you can, I wish you would
tell me.
Your interested reader,
Benj. Collins, Jr. (age 10).
Frog "peepers" are nocturnal animals, and sel-
dom active except during the late afternoon or
at night. I have heard them calling during the
day, but they usually begin to evince signs of in-
terest in things as the day comes to a close, and
continue the calls during the night. — Raymond
L. Ditmars.
WHY BRUISES BECOME " BLACK AND BLUE "
New York Mills, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas : I have often wondered what makes
black-and-blue marks on your skin when you are bruised.
I take physiology and am very much interested in it, but
my book fails to answer this question. I should be very
much obliged if you would tell the reason.
Yours as ever,
Lois W. Kellogg (age 13).
The color of blood is due chiefly to iron in the
little blood-cells. When the iron is kept in these
little blood-cells, which are living and traveling
around in the blood-vessels, the color is red. Hit
the skin hard enough to break some of the little
blood-vessels beneath the surface, and the little
red cells escape front the injured blood-vessels,
wander about for a while in the tissues, and die.
When they die, the iron that made them red be-
fore, then changes to black-and-blue coloring.
After a while, this iron is taken up by the glands
called the lymphatics, and made over again into
nice red cells. The iron is taken up very much
more quickly by the lymphatics if the black-and-
blue spot is rubbed and massaged. — Dr. Robert
T. Morris.
igi2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
849
fragrant fireworks
Worcester, Mass.
Dear St. Nicholas: Orange-peel fireworks are great
fun. Papa and my brother Roland squeeze the rinds and
I hold the match. Sometimes when the orange peel is
producing a flash by igniting the volatile oil
from orange peel.
fresh and full of oil, a great fountain of flame flashes more
than a foot high. Squeezing the rind and at the same time
giving a quick pinch, cause the greatest outburst of oil and
so the largest flash.
The orange-oil as it is thus burned perfumes the room
like incense. We never tire of fragrant fireworks.
Very sincerely yours,
Mazie E. Hodge.
These interesting fireworks were exhibited to
me by the son and daughter of Professor Clifton
F. Hodge when I was a guest in his house. Sev-
HOW TO HOLD THE LIGH TED MATCH, HOW TO MAKE
A SHARP BEND IN THE FOLDED PEEL, HOW TO
FOLD THE QUARTER PEEL, AND HOW TO PEEL THE
ORANGE.
eral demonstrations of -the method were made. I
took the accompanying photograph, and later an-
other to show how the peel should be held. This
experiment, like all in which a flame is used, how-
ever, should only be tried under the supervision
of an older person, and care should be taken to
keep at a safe distance from any inflammable
materials. — Editor of "Nature and Science."
Vol. XXXIX. -107.
FIREWORKS FROM FLOWERS
The gas-plant (Dictamnus), which has fragrant
leaves and bears curious flowers, "gives off dur-
ing hot weather a fragrant, volatile oil, which
ignites when . match is applied to it."
Mr. Nathan R. Graves, Rochester, New York,
sends the accompanying illustration of the bloom.
He writes :
"I have found that the flash, when a lighted
match is held near to the bloom, is more certain
on a sultry evening after a very warm day. Then
one seldom fails to get quite spectacular results."
The gas-plant is attractive and of value aside
from its peculiar inflammable gas. The seeds
should be sown in the autumn in a plant nursery
bed where they are to remain for two years.
THE BLOOM OF THE GAS-PLANT, OR "BURNING BUSH."
(Dictamnus fraxinella.)
In dry, sultry weather the flowers sometimes give out a vapor which
is inflammable.
They can then be transplanted to rich, heavy
soil. They bloom in the months of June and July.
[The fireworks with orange peel and flowers
have in themselves no danger, but, because
matches are so common, one should never groiv
careless in the use of them, even- to light a
lamp.-E. F. B.]
FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
The Drum-Aajor
BY WELLS HASTINGS
Two and two, and two and two, go the
soldiers in the street, —
And, oh, but it 's just wonderful the way
they work their feet!
Their captain rides a prancing horse, but
I would rather be
The man who twirls the shiny thing for
every one to see.
So when I drill my soldiers here (they 're
fine ones, dressed in red),
I am the man in the fur hat, who walks a
step ahead.
And though their captain 's very fine, and
though his sword is bright,
I think they all depend on me, whenever
there 's a fight.
FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
851
WILLIE'S AIR-CASTLE
I wish I had an airship,
One 'at would really fly ;
I 'd take a ride all by myself
Away up in the sky.
And when the trip was over,
I 'd sit on Daddy's knee,
And tell him all the funny things
An airship man must see.
MAKING FRIENDS
My mother called on his one day,
So I, of course, went too.
They talked and laughed, and talked
some more,
The way that mothers do.
Then Bobbie came in from a walk,
While I was sitting there ;
He 'tended not to notice me,
And climbed upon a chair.
But when, at last, he turned his head,
As shy as shy could be,
I smiled and threw a kiss to him,
And he smiled back at me.
This being the month for "celebrating," St. Nicholas
would be justified in sending up a special display of fire-
works in honor of the contributions of its League members.
Little stories of fact and fancy, told with remarkable skill
and feeling; brief poems, brilliant in idea and beautifully
worded ; photographs of rare charm, whether of figure or
landscape subjects ; and drawings, showing the touch of
the real artist — all these combine to form a delightful,
inspiring exhibit of what earnest boys and girls can
accomplish nowadays. Our only regret is the familiar
and oft-repeated one — that the space allowed us is alto-
gether too small to admit scores of similar contributions
which, in merit and cleverness, crowd closely upon those
here printed.
But every month adds many recruits to our list of Prize-
winners ; and the disappointed contestants, every month,
merely grow more determined, and exclaim: " Not yet —
but soon ! "
PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION NO. 149
In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.
PROSE. Gold badges, Hester R. Hoffman (age 16), Terre Haute, Ind. ; Betty Humphreys (age n), Cambridge,
Mass.
Silver badges, Lydia Selden Chapin (age 15), Erie, Pa. ; Harriet Henry (age 14), New York City; Edith Townsend
(age 13), Buffalo, N. Y. ; Kathryn Hulbert (age 13), Bangor, Me. ; Constance Kilborn (age 14), Whitby, Can.
VERSE. Gold badge, Ben Sleeper (age 17), Waco, Tex.
Silver badges, Frances Duggar (age 16), Auburn, Ala. ; Martha Means (age 15), Akron, O. ; Merrill T. B. Spalding
(age 14), Brookline, Mass. ; Hester B. Curtis (age 12), Point Pleasant, N. J.
DRAWINGS. Gold badge, Alison M. Kingsbury (age 14), Pittsburgh, Pa.
Silver badges, Marion Monroe (age 14), Muskogee, Okla. ; William McK. Murray (age 17), Pittsburgh, Pa.
PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badges, Dickson Green (age 15), Syracuse, N. Y. ; Anita Delafield (age 14), Lenox, Mass.
Silver badges, Herbert F. Traut (age 17), Sheridan, Wyo. ; Elwood H. Gallien (age 17), Portland, Ore. ; Joseph Kiss
(age 16), Appleton, Wis. ; Margaret W. Taylor (age 14), Haverford, Pa. ; Richard S. Emmet (age 14), New York City.
WILD CREATURE PHOTOGRAPHY. Class "A" prize, Dorothea B. Smith (age 12), New York City.
PUZZLE-MAKING. Gold badge, Helen A. Moulton (age 15), New York City.
Silver badges, Isidore Helfand (age 13), Cleveland, O. ; Laurens M. Hamilton (age it)',- Sterlington, N. Y. ; John M.
Kleberg (age 12), Cornwall, N. Y.
PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badges, Claire A. Hepner (age 11), Helena, Mont. ; William T. Fickinger (age 11),
Sewickley, Pa.
'REFLECTIONS.
BV MARGARET W. TAYLOR,
(SILVER BADGE.)
DIMMING BEAR. BV DOROTHEA B. SMITH, AGE 12.
(Prize, Class "A," Wild Creature Photography.)
852
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
853
CHIVALRY
BY HESTER B. CURTIS (AGE 1 2)
(Silver Badge)
I love a knight ; he loves me, too ;
He wins the hearts of many.
His voice is kind, his heart is true ;
He 's nobler far than any.
He says I am his lady fair,
He is my strength and light ;
He shares my every pain and care—
My father is my knight !
' REFLECTIONS. BY ELWOOD H. GALI.1EN, AGE 17. (SILVER BAD
"MY HAPPIEST MEMORY"
BY HESTER R. HOFFMAN (AGE 1 6)
(Gold Badge)
Herr Ludwig fingered caressingly the violin of his
fathers with its four strings, Love, Hope, Memory, and
the dark one — Hate. Then, settling the instrument com-
fortably under his chin, the old man bent his white head
lovingly over the violin, his eyes assumed a far-off ex-
pression, and he drew the bow lightly yet lingeringly
over the string Memory.
The notes, though soft, came forth clearly with un-
surpassable sweetness, and, after lingering in the room,
sped forth to the village street, where many stopped to
listen, for they recognized the opening notes of Herr
Ludwig's sweetest composition, "My Happiest Memory."
The violin was a human voice telling them of a day
long ago when a German lad, carrying a violin, swung
joyously along a country road. The boy was on his way
to a music carnival, held by the emperor, and he, the
young Ludwig, intended to pit his talent against the
most renowned musicians of the empire.
Soon the boy reached the hall, and the rustling of
silks and satins told him that the courtiers and their
ladies were arriving. The rules were read and the con-
test began. Ludwig was the last to play. He mur-
mured to his violin, tightened its strings, and began.
The violin in the old musician's hands thrilled again
with that melody played so long ago. It was a melody
telling of love and hope, as sweet and pure as the boy's
heart from which it sprang. One note, high, sweet,
triumphant, ended the divine harmony. There was a
silence, and then could be heard the enthusiastic ap-
plause. The emperor rose majestically.
"Thou art a great musician, lad," said he, "and in
addition to the prize, I give you this token of your
emperor's homage to a great artist !"
The notes of the violin were jubilant, ecstatic, tri-
umphant, depicting the state of that young heart. As
the last high, sweet notes melted into silence, the listen-
ers stole quietly away, leaving Herr Ludwig staring at a
small gold medal, bearing the emperor's arms, which
glistened as brightly in the twilight as that one incident
shone in the old musician's memory.
MY HAPPIEST MEMORY
(As told by a kitten)
BY BETTY HUMPHREYS (AGE II)
(Gold Badge)
Little kitten,
'1 his was written
For you to obey :
Stay at home
Until you 've grown,
That 's a kitten's way.
If you don't obey this rule,
You will be a kitten fool.
That was the rule my mother
taught me. I had always obeyed
it, until one day I could n't bear
the poky old basket any longer.
My mother had gone to catch
mice in the cellar, so it was a
good chance to jump out and
explore the house, which I did.
I stole some fish, broke a vase
full of flowers, almost caught the
canary (I scared him, anyhow),
and had a fine time. Then I
came back and pretended to be
asleep in the basket. Mother never knew how I enjoyed
myself that day. My happiest memory was being a
"kitten fool."
N.B. I have grown up now, ana tell that story to my
kittens, who are never tired of hearing it. I am glad to
say, however, that they obey the kittens' golden rule.
HEADING
FOR
JULY 1112
' A HEADING FUR JULY. BY DOROTHY CALKINS, AGE 15.
854
i
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[July,
"REFLECTIONS." BY RICHARD S. EMMET, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)
MY HAPPIEST MEMORY
BY IMOGEN CAMPBELL NOYES (AGE 10)
Six summers ago, our family ate their meals on the
porch all the season. A chipping sparrow was attracted
by the crumbs on the floor, and finally became tame
enough to eat at the table with us. Every time we put
the bread on the table, "Velvet," as we called her, be-
cause she had a little brown spot on her head, was
always ready to be the first one at the table.
Once Velvet burned her toes in Papa's coffee, trying
to get a drink of it. Sometimes we heard a flutter, and
Velvet would light on our heads. I remember once that
I had some bread crumbs in my hand, and went to look
for Velvet to feed her. She came at once, and brought
one of her baby birds, and he perched on my foot.
Velvet flew to my hand, and got some crumbs to feed
the baby bird, and while she was getting the crumbs,
she let me stroke her feathers. She came to us two
summers, and her visits were my happiest memories.
t^A*
IN THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY
BY DOROTHY DAWSON (AGE 1 7)
{Honor Member)
He was but a little jester,
Ugly, small, of low degree ;
She his master's only daughter,
Fair and proud, a princess free.
At the jester's wit and folly,
All the company made glad,
She amongst them, no one dreaming
That one little heart was sad.
Came a prince from o'er the mountains,
Won her heart, and asked her hand ;
And, one merry, sunny May-day,
They were wedded. All the land
Rang with mirth ; glad merrymakers
Thronged to pay their homage due. —
Princess, thou hast won a king's heart !
Still one heavy heart beats true.
See ! a rosebud on the pathway,
Fallen from her glittering hair.
It is his now, his forever !
She has many flowers as fair.
Hers a throne, true homage, splendor,
His a jester's cap and bells ;
And of course his heart is merry,
Here 's the tale a rosebud tells.
"A HEADING FOR JULY." BY ALISON M. KINGSBURY, AGE 14
(GOLD BADGE.)
'REFLECTIONS." BY DICKSON GREEN, AGE 15. (GOLD BADGt.)
THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY
BY WINIFRED SACKVILLE STONER, JR. (AGE 9)
{Honor Member)
In days of chivalry, so I 've been told,
All knights were gallant, kind, and bold ;
But ladies, though ever so modest and sweet,
Made the bold knights kneel down at their feet.
1912.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
855
BY MILDRED H. GRAHAM, AGE 15. BY HERBERT F. TRAUT, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.) BY MARION VV. DORSEY, AGE 13.
BY JOSEPH KISS, AGE 16. (SILVER BADGE.)
BY DOROTHY M. BRUSH, AGE 13.
BY ANITA DELAFIELD, AGE 14. (GOLD BADGE.)
BY ANNIE B. MALLETT, AGE 14.
BY VIRGINIA P. BRADFIELD, AGE 14.
"REFLECTIONS.'
856
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[July,
MY HAPPIEST MEMORY
BY LYDIA SELDEN CHAPIN (AGE 15)
(Silver Badge)
I was very small, and yet I felt awed and dazed. I did
not quite understand it. My mother had taken me to
the master's studio, had placed me high among a great
■B2Sr" *• >»**^
" REFLECTIONS." BY PAULL JACOB, AGE 17.
mass of silken cushions, had given me a little woolly
dog to play with, and had told me to sit very, very still.
Then she went off into another corner of the vast
lighted room, and stood talking to the master, who be-
gan slapping at a large piece of canvas with long
brushes such as I sometimes used to paint with in my
picture books.
I began to inspect the wonderful vastness around me.
Everywhere were great heaps of painted canvas and odd
golden frames ; on the walls hung tempting-looking pic-
tures, tempting because children smiled out of them,
smiled at me, and called me to them. They were all
pretty children, little boys in rollicking sailor-suits, and
little girls in bright-colored dresses ; a few wore silks
and satins, which I was sure must have been very un-
comfortable when they wanted to play hide-and-seek.
One of my pillows fell down ; the master picked it up,
and told mc that I had been a very good little girl, that
And every day after that, Mother would take me to
the "wonderful place" — I still call it that — and set me
high up among the cushions, high up in the sunlight,
with my woolly dog. And then, one day, I did not go
back any more, and a new little girl, sitting on a pile of
cushions, clasping a little woolly dog, and smiling out of
her golden frame, came to live in our parlor.
DAYS OF CHIVALRY
BY MARTHA MEANS (AGE 1 5)
(Silver Badge)
Dreaming, I watched the fire,
'T was red and yellow and blue ;
I saw a black knight riding by,
'T was Richard — that I knew.
Then a lady in fine array,
With servants three she came ;
Now a knight, with armor white,
To try with Richard for fame.
They came together with might,
'T was cjuite a serious bout ;
Down went the knight in white,
But, alas, the fire went out !
MY HAPPIEST MEMORY
BY HARRIET HENRY (AGE 14)
(Silver Badge)
"Hi there ! Git up ! !" I start forward clumsily under
the pain of the stinging lash, and the stupid driver
jerks me back with brutal force. Oh, my heart is
■sJLed..*
Il
A HEAPING FOR JULY. BY SCHOFIELD HANDFORTH, AGE 14.
he had never known any one to sit quite so still before ;
then he went back to his strange occupation of painting
in a very much glorified picture book. I wondered
afterward why I had not told him about the children.
Was I afraid of him ? I never quite knew ; the master
was always a sort of strange and mystic being to me. .
'REFLECTIONS
heavy these days. What with the cruelty of my mas-
ter and the hard, hard work, my life is one weary round
of misery. I think I would die if it were not for the
pleasant memories of better days, which I so love to
recall, and which blot out the dull agony of the present.
I like to dwell upon one May afternoon, ten years
ago. I sped along a smooth, broad race-track while
crowds on either side yelled loudly. A dapple filly was
abreast of me and a big roan in front, while far behind,
there straggled a half-dozen horses who were almost
spent. I remember as if it were yesterday, Miss Con-
stance leaning well over the rail with her head tilted
1912.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
857
dubiously to one side and her pretty lips drooping at
the corners. Did she doubt me ? The thought gave
me renewed vigor, and I shot forward, leaving the filly
far in the rear. A great cheer rose from the crowd,
and I overtook the roan. A moment later I crossed the
line. All the men patted and praised me, and then Miss
Constance came running up, and, standing on tiptoes,
flung her arms around my neck.
"Dixie," she whispered, "Dixie, I 'm so proud of
you !"
That was the happiest moment of my life.
A HEADING FOR JULY. BY MARION MONROE, AGE 14.
(SILVER BADGE.)
CHIVALRY
BY BEN SLEEPER (AGE I 7)
{Gold Badge)
A queen went forth to take the air
In garments rich, bejeweled, rare;
Her very shoes were 'broidered round
With pearls upon a golden ground.
In joyous mood she merry made
With all her brilliant cavalcade,
Who laughed at e'en the tiniest jest
The queen essayed (or tried their best).
But soon she stopped in dire dismay,
A filthy puddle barred her way ;
She looked first at one satin shoe,
Then at the mud — what should she do ?
She hesitated not for long ;
From out the agitated throng
Stepped forth a youth of noble mien,
Who, bowing low before the queen,
His cloak of orimson velvet tossed
Into the mud. His monarch crossed.
Then, to complete the courtier's bliss,
Gave him her royal hand to kiss.
MY HAPPIEST MEMORY
BY EDITH TOWNSEND (AGE 1 3)
{Silver Badge)
My happiest memory is of Mother, when.
on peaceful, tranquil evenings, after the
romps and good times of the day are over,
you climb into her lap, and entwine your
arms around her neck ; outside the wind
blows little crystal snow-flakes against the
window-panes, and the fire burns brightly.
You feel so contented and you cuddle
down, while she tells stories, or sings
sweet songs of long ago.
Or when in the soft and balmy twilight of a sum-
mer evening you and Mother sit out on the porch, and
listen to the crickets chirping, and the frogs talking to
one another down in the swamp, until a sense of
drowsiness steals over you, and you fall asleep. Per-
Vol. XXXI X.- 108.
haps, better still, when you are older, and the bustle of
the day has made you tired and cross, you go to her
and put your head on her shoulder, and tell her all
about the scrapes of school, of the losing of temper, or
other trials that seem so great to you ; then Mother
seems to smooth out the snarls, and you are content.
MY HAPPIEST MEMORY
BY KATHRYN HULBERT (AGE 13)
{Silver Badge)
Five summers ago, Father rented a dear little cottage
on the east side of Sebago Lake.
My favorite uncle and his family spent that summer
with us, and we had the happiest of times together.
Our beach, long and smooth, was in a little cove, and
we built a breakwater at the entrance, making our
swiniming-pool safe and quiet.
Our days began early and passed all too quickly, with
the early morning strolls, the dip at eleven, the after-
noon tramps, or quiet readings, and, best of all, the
thrilling stories around the evening camp-fire.
Father and Mother often planned a picnic on Picture
Rocks, rocks from which, tradition relates, Captain
Frye, chased by Indians, leaped into the lake, sixty feet
or more below, and swam over to the island which now
bears his name. On these massive rocks are crude
drawings of hideous Indians, canoes, signs, and a pic-
ture of Frye making his leap.
We always lighted the camp-fire early, so that evenings
might be as long as possible ; and as darkness came
on, and the weird call of the loon came floating over the
water, we gathered closer to the crackling logs, to listen
to Uncle's always-anticipated story.
The stars peeped forth from the dark sky, the story
closed, and later, long after the good nights had been
said, we lay awake watching the red embers, which
seemed like little dancing fairies with torches in their
FREE!" BY WILLIAM MCK. MURRAY, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.)
hands ; and the fireflies, flitting past, flashed their tiny
search-lights in reply.
Thus passed the summer, and with the fall, we turned
our faces toward home and school, carrying with us the
memory of a delightful vacation.
858
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[July,
CHIVALRY
BY DORIS F. HALMAN (AGE l6)
{Honor Member)
A perfectly terribly rainy day,
A little girl had come in to play
With the ftttle boy of the curly hair,
Who snuggled up in the red plush chair.
"Knight and lady," they planned their game,
When another, almost a big boy, came.
"Say, kid, you be the carpet-knight!"
Quivering lips replied, "All right." —
Poor little mite !
"Is n't that nice?" said the little girl,
"I really wanted a great big earl ;
You can stay home and the coward be,
And he '11 fight and kill you for love of me.
The ink will do for a coward's gore,
I '11 make a pool on the battle floor!"
But, truly, it was an awful sight.
"Oh, don't do that !" cried the carpet-knight,
All in affright.
A terrified spring from the red plush chair,
A push from the brave knight standing there,
The craven fell in his pool of gore,
And his mother stood in the open door.
"Who made this ink-spot ? You 'd better tell,
I '11 get your mothers to spank you well,
Or I will do it. Who caused this sight?"
"I must not tell !" sobbed the carpet-knight —
Chivalrous mite !
MY HAPPIEST MEMORY
BY CONSTANCE KILBORN (AGE 14)
{Silver Badge)
When spring is singing her joy in every tree, bush, and
flower ; when the sun filters through the green leaves,
filling the woods with a strange glory, and I can wander
T^uia. K-9/ia^ui,
BY WALTER K. FRAME, AGE 16.
hazy,
alone in their shelter, the dream pictures come,
sweet, and far away.
I see a little old-fashioned English school-house where
noisy, excited children are talking in little groups.
Savory odors are floating from the kitchen as large
hampers are Backed with good things. Now many pairs
of little brown, bare feet are pattering down the grav-
eled driveway, and into the dusty road, sturdily climbing
the steep mountain-side, and descending to the valley.
A faint roar is heard, and the foaming, dashing, moun-
tain torrent bursts into view, as, sparkling, it bounds
to the valley below. There, hushed to whispered lull-
abies, it steals softly onward, amid the kisses of droop-
ing ferns and gaily colored wild flowers.
See the little merrymakers, tired from their long
walk, sporting in the cool waters with many childish
screams of delight !
Oh, what a perfect work of Nature ! this wild, se-
cluded valley of the mountains, where the marring hand
of man has not yet been ; where the song of the bird
mingles fearlessly with the gay laughter of little chil-
dren, and the sun shines over all.
But now the dusk of evening is gathering, and twi-
light approaches, veiling in awful mystery these won-
derful works of God. The little band is returning, with
lagging steps and heavy heads ; but soon kind hands
have tucked them into little beds, and they are journey-
ing into dreamland. The moon has risen, and sheds her
pale glory over the sleeping earth. Peace reigns su-
preme.
The dream has flitted, and with a start my mind is
brought back to earth and reality, for I am no longer a
wee lass of six.
THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY
BY MERRILL T. B. SPALDING (AGE 14)
{Silver Badge)
The morning sun was rising on a day, long, long ago,
When a knight upon his charger started out to fight the
foe ;
He was clad from foot to helmet in a suit of armor
bright,
And as he left his castle's gate, his heart was gay and
light.
A maiden fair, with golden hair, and wond'rous eyes of
blue,
Had given him that very morn her hand and heart so
true ;
And as he rode along his way, beneath the azure sky,
He thought of how he loved her — he would fight for
love or die.
The sun was high in heaven orrthat day, long, long ago,
When, with his band of followers, he marched against
the foe.
His look was stern and fearless as the enemy drew near,
But his heart was warm and loving for the maid he held
so dear.
The conflict raged, great blows were struck, and shields
were split in twain,
Both friend and foe alike did fight with all their might
and main ;
But when the day was won, the victors' hearts were
filled with grief,
For among the dead and dying lay their brave and noble
chief.
The silvery moon was shining on a bright and starry
night,
When by her dying lover knelt a maiden, clad in white ;
They interchanged a few sweet words, and then he
softly sighed,
He had kept full well his promise — he had fought for
love and died.
1912.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
859
IN THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY
BY HOWARD BENNETT (AGE 1 7)
(Honor Member)
The brooklet laughed as it leaped along,
The castle frowned from its ramparts strong,
The robin caroled a joyous song,
In the days of chivalry.
The drawbridge fell and spanned the foss,
Two glittering horsemen rode across,
Each fiery steed gave its head a proud toss,
In the days of chivalry.
"My lord," said the younger knight, "I tire
Of the dull and harmless chase ; I desire
To seek real adventure." For youth had its fire
In the days of chivalry.
"My son, I know full well how you yearn,
But, mayhap, if you go, you will never return."
For already the combat was grim and stern
In the days of chivalry.
"My father, the fairest maid in the land
Has smiled on me ; for her sake I withstand
The fiercest dangers." For strong was the hand
In the days of chivalry.
The bowed old head did not gainsay ;
The same human heart that rules to-day
Beat high, as the young man went his way
In the days of chivalry.
ONE OF MY HAPPIEST MEMORIES
BY ELSIE STEVENS (AGE 15)
So many beautiful memories crowd into my mind that
it is difficult to determine which is best ; but I think my
happiest memories are those of little children.
None of us girls who have passed into our 'teens can
turn back and be as we were seven years ago. We can-
not lessen our height, shorten our dresses, or narrow
our ideas to childish ones. But though we can never
be children again, there is one thing which we may do,
and that is, we may keep the heart of childhood, which
may best be accomplished by bringing ourselves into
close contact with those now in the midst of the land
we have just left.
It is late afternoon. The rays of sunlight are stream-
ing through the windows, lighting up a group of childish
faces belonging to seven little people snuggled among
the cushions of my window-seat. The faces are full of
eagerness as they listen to a story which I am reading
aloud. When I have finished, one little girl asks in-
quisitively, "But why?" How like myself, I think. I
was the same inquisitive little body, always wanting to
know the "whys" and "wherefores." And the primness
of the child next to her, who casts a reproving glance
at the interrupter — how she reminds me of Rose Mary,
one of my early friends !
Perhaps I am speaking in too "grown-up" a manner,
and talking as if childhood were a very distant past ;
but I think many girls try to appear very "young-lady-
fied" and proper, and instead look very foolish and
unnatural. I think that to have little ones about us is
one of the best ways to make us realize that we are
children still, for as I helped my little friends on with
their wraps, kissed them good-by, and watched them go
gaily down the street, I felt very near to the kingdom
of childhood and the happy memories that dwell there.
CHIVALRY
BY FRANCES DUGGAR (AGE l6)
(Silver Badge)
Little boy and little girl, on the grass at play,
And they hear the sound of dogs barking far away ;
She is frightened, but he whispers, with his arms about
her neck,
"Do not cry, my sister dear, don't you know, while I am
here,
I won't let the bad dogs harm you,
I '11 let nothing hurt nor harm you?"
Little girl and little boy, coming home at night,
And no silvery moon above them makes the pathway
bright ;
She is frightened, at the darkness, but he gently whis-
pers to her,
"Never fear, sister dear, don't you know, while I am
here,
I won't let the darkness harm you,
I '11 let nothing hurt nor harm you?"
Many years have passed away,
They 're no longer at their play ;
But he still protects and shields her, still he proudly to
her says,
"Never fear, sister dear, don't you know, while I am
near,
Nothing shall disturb nor harm you,
I '11 let nothing hurt nor harm you?"
CHIVALRY
BY BRUCE T. SIMONDS (AGE l6)
(Honor Member)
Not only when the trumpet's stirring sound
Shrilly proclaimed the opening tournament ;
Not only when the victor, humbly bent,
Before his lady knelt, and there was crowned ;
Not only when the knights of old renowned,
Arthur's companions, on their duty sent,
Rode far away, and helped where'er they went, —
Not only then may chivalry be found ; .
But now, whenever there is seen a man
Helping the weak as none but strong men can,
In quiet field, in busy, bustling mart ;
Unstained in honor, speaking only truth —
Ah, where he stands, there is a knight in sooth ;
True chivalry reigns ever in his heart.
THE ROLL OF HONOR
No. I. A list of those whose work would have been used had space
permitted. No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to en-
couragement. (Unavoidably crowded out this month.)
PROSE, 1
Hattie M. Wulke
Edith M. Levy-
Dorothy H. DeWitt
Charles R. G. Page
Miette Brugnot
Caroline C. Bedell
Elmer H. Van Fleet
Helen Casey
James Sheean
Ruth B. Brewster
Amy C. Love
Rachel L. Field
J. Marjorie Trotter
Nathaniel Dorfman
Emily S. Reed
Alice M. Hamlet
Elizabeth F. Bradbury
Rebekah B. Hoffman
Sophie E. Woods
Norah Heney
Winifred Gaynor
Elizabeth Macdonald
Helen Stearns
Dorothy H. Sutton
Margaret Johnson
Elizabeth Boyd White
Marian Shaler
Helen A Winans
Robin Hood
Elsie Windsor
Dorothy M. Rogers
Anna L. Porter
John J. Hanighen, Jr.
Madeleine J.
Greenbaum
Cornelia S. Jackson
Dorothy May Owens
Helen Bolles
Ruth Starr
Frances Weil
Marion B. Reed
Julia M. Herget
Elizabeth Boorum
Fannie W. Butterfield
Sarah Sirit
Howard Putzel
Minnie Gottlieb
Elsie Terhune
Doris H. Voss
Mary E. Taggart
Isabel M. Cundill
Jennie E. Everden
Winifred M. Bateman
Louise S. May
Carolyn Weiss
Mary Mason
Alice Lee Tully
Mary Dendy
860
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
Frances Riker
Barclay V. Huiell
Dorothy J. Bogart
Mildred Thorp
Herbert Philpott
Anthony Fabbri
Katherine E. Read
Doris R. Wilder
Goldie Zucker
Lois Hopkins
Ethel M. Feuerlicht
Geo. F. Milliken, Jr.
Ethel London
Annabelle La Plant
Herbert Snider
Muriel W. Avery
Margaret C. Bland
Gertrude Thilly
Mary Van Fossen
Jane Coolidge
Margaret E. Beakes
Henry Wilson Hardy
Marie H. Wilson
Mary Nathan
Mildred Weissner
Mary Rhoades
Katharine McLain
Harold E. Newcomb
Lois Kellogg
Althea R. Kimberley
Florence L. Smith
Mildred A. Gutwillig
Naomi Lauchheimer
Emily M. Gile
VERSE, i
Eleanor Johnson
Frederick H.
Strawbridge, Jr.
Irma A. Hill
Renee Geoffrion
Bernard J. Snyder
Vera F. Keevers
Henry M. Gardiner
Hazel Sawyer
Henry D. Costigan
Mildred W. Longstreth
Virginia Sledge
DRAWINGS, i
Jack Hopkins
James Williamson
Marian E. Stearns
Genevieve K. Hamlin
Rosella M. Hartmann
Lily A. Lewis
Margaret Brate
Henrietta H. B.
Sturgis
Nellie L. Leach
Margaret Couty
S. Dorothy Bell
Dorothy Hughes
Marjorie Flack
Helen A. Baker
Gladys Cole
Gene Davis
Ellen W. Coates
Rebekah Howard
Margaret A. Foster
Richard R. Haas
Mildred Wilsey
W. Coburn Seward
Katherine L. Guy
Frances Scoville
Martha Robinson
Nellie Melrose
Marjory F. Velie
Joseph M. Hayman
Allen Thomas
Charlotte M. White
Lavinia Sherman
Richard L. Bartlett
Mary P. Zesinger
Elsie A pel
Adele Noyes
Margery Andrews
Ambler, John W. Cloghorn, Jr.,
Simon Sneller.
Gordon Lane, W. Irving Harris,
BY RUTH BROWNE, AGE II.
Agnes Abbot
Gustave Diechmann
Margery F. Morgan
Jessica H. Robinson
Lucy F. Rogers
Alice Carter
Marian Stabler
Harold Beck
George Bradley
PHOTOGRAPHS, i
Jennie Hicks
Marian E. Taylor
Marjorie Beard
Bob Burgher
Mary H. S. Pittman
George Woodward, Jr.
Marion A. Reynolds
Elizabeth W. Pharo
Gordon Kent
BY HELEN T. STEVENSON,
AGE II.
F. Cooley Eveleth
Emeline W. Kellogg
Harriot A. Parsons
Eleanor E. Barry
Gerald H. Loomis
Doris Bunton
Leopold A.
Camacho, Jr.
Dorothy Helmle
Thomas C. Norcross
Eric H. Marks
Grahm Mchaffey
PUZZLES, i
Bessie T. Keene
Rebecca N. Vincent
Olga M. Griffin
Angeline Bennett
Calista P. Eliot
Lucile Robertson
Helen Briggs
Gilbert Templeton
Jessica B. Noble
Helen L. Beach
Gladys H. Pew
Fannie Ruley
Marjorie K. Gibbons
Eugene Scott
Alan Dudley Bush
Miriam Loring
Guy R. Turner
Norval D. Marbaker
Marjorie M. Carroll
H. K. Luce
Theresa W. Neuberger
Janet Putnam
Virginia M. Bliss
Arnold G. Cameron
Elizabeth Guerin
ROLL OF THE CARELESS
A list of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and
could not be properly entered for the competition.
LATE. Clarice French, Annie H. Parrott, Lillie G. Menary, Hes-
ter D. Nott, Audrey M. Cooper, Elsa Clark, Donald Friede, Doris
Longton, Beryl H. Margetson, Katharine H. Seligman, Marjorie Se-
ligman, Hester Raven Hart, Dora Guy, Margherita Auteri, Loyala B.
Lee, Elizabeth Martindale, Heather F. Burbury, Eleanor King New-
ell, Olive M. Kimbell, Charles P. Newton, Margaret Barcalo, Marga-
ret Polhamus, Dorothy Smith. Elizabeth Dudley, Hester M. Dicksy,
Edith Rice, Russell Hendee, Dora E. Bailey, Lucille Wardner, Ethel
W. Kidder, Phyllis Coate, Mabel Patterson, Lillian Patterson, Claude
Pelly, Antonia Schwab.
NOT INDORSED. Lucius H. Barbour, Julian Ross, Elizabeth
Williams, Eleanor Fish, Elizabeth Robinson, Dorothy Phillips, Chas.
Podaski, Emily Goltzmann, Erma Sheridan, Caroline de Windt, Mau-
rice Irons, Dorothy Barnard, Eliot G. Hall, Elizabeth Waddell,
Laurens Williams, Georgina Yeatman, Horace Yeomans, Wyllys K.
NO AGE. Daniel B. Benscoter, James O'Brien, Alice Wilkins,
Alice B. Young, James Lacey, Doris I. Knight, Adelaide C. Hibbard.
INCOMPLETE ADDRESS GIVEN. Lucile Luttrell, Howard
Johnson, Reynolds S. Judah, Charles Judah, Jr., Phoebe Harris,
Clement H. Watson, Jeanette Hecht.
WRITTEN ON BOTH SIDES OF PAPER. Lillia Lyman, Al-
berta Burton.
IN PENCIL. Herman F. Blumenthal, Dorothy R. Oppenheim,
Charles Churchill, Marion Isenman, Cecile E. Latrielle, Gretchen
Rand, Grace M. Finch, Marcia F. Schenck.
PRIZE COMPETITION NO. 153
The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings,
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasion-
ally, cash prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge win-
ners who shall, from time to time, again win first place.
Competition No. 153 will close July 10 "(for
foreign members July 15). Prize announcements
will be made and the selected contributions published in
St. Nicholas for November.
Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, "The Sentinel," or "On Guard."
Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, " My Favorite Hero (or Heroine) in
History — and Why."
Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "A Frolic," or "Frolicsome."
Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, " On the Square," or a Heading for November.
Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an-
swer in full, and must be indorsed.
Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas.
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on
the first page of the " Riddle-box."
Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur-
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The
prizes in the " Wild Creature Photography " competition
shall be in four classes, as follows : Prize, Class A, a
gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold
badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge.
Prize, Class D, a. silver badge. But prize-winners in this
competition (as in all the other competitions) will not receive
a second gold or silver badge. Photographs must not be
of "protected" game, as in zoological gardens or game
reservations. Contributors must state in afeiv words where
and under what circumstances the photograph was taken.
Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re-
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed
and stamped envelop of the proper size to hold the manu-
script, drawing, or photograph.
RULES
Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not,
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who
has reached the age of eighteen years may compete.
Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied,
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the
number of words should also be added. These notes must
not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itself —
if manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, on the
margin or' back. Write or draw on one side of the paper
only. A contributor may send but one contribution a
month — not one of each kind, but one only.
Address : The St. Nicholas League,
Union Square, New York.
BOOKS AND READING
BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE
BOOKS FOR USE
During the summer many of us live in a world
we know precious little about— the world of out-
of-doors. It is a world that begins right at our
door-step and continues on through space to the
uttermost star, to the heart of the untracked
forest or unclimbed mountain, or down to the
depths of the ocean. It is a world of marvels, of
strange transformations and thrilling adventures,
beside which the world of fairy tale or fancied
adventure looks dim and tame.
THE TIME WE WASTE
Now we do not take a tithe of the trouble to be-
come familiar with this world at our door that
we take to pore over scenes and adventures as
well known to us as breakfast and supper. For
one book we read that tells us something new
and true of the woods, and fields, and the crea-
tures that live there, we race through a hundred
that repeat for us the story of some boys or girls
living just about the lives we are ourselves living.
The former books would give us accurate infor-
mation, and make us free of nature's lore. The
latter only repeat what we already know.
It certainly seems a waste of time, and time is
too wonderful to waste. We only have just so
much of it, you know. We can't borrow it, or
buy it, or save it ; we can only use it. It is here,
and then it is gone ! And while it is here, we
ought to get the best we can out of it.
SUMMER COLLECTIONS
Many boys and girls love to make collections,
and summer is the time to make most of those
that are especially interesting and valuable. A
collection of specimens that you have yourself
found, or captured, and preserved, will teach you
a quantity of things you could hardly learn in any
other way, and help you, also, to be alert and
quick of hand and eye.
A BOY FRIEND'S HOBBY
One boy I know has been greatly interested this
winter in the magnificent collections of moths
and butterflies to be seen in the Museum of
Natural History at New York. As soon as school
is over, he is going straight to the country, and
he intends making as perfect a collection as possi-
ble of the moths and butterflies of the particular
section where he is to be. The other day he
asked me whether I could tell him some book
that he could get which would not be too technical
or difficult, but which would give him the assist-
ance he required.
I remembered that I had found just what he
wanted in two books by W. J. Holland, "The
Moth Book" and "The Butterfly Book," two
volumes written to meet the young collector's
needs. They are not too big or "deep," and they
tell in a most interesting way about the common
moths and butterflies of America, as well as some
of the rarer ones. There are numerous illustra-
tions, and a vast lot of information concerning
the development and life history of these lovely
insects, the harm some of them do in their dif-
ferent forms, and just how best to capture them
and mount them. In fact, if you have the least
interest in this subject, you will be hugely pleased
with these books.
Perhaps you are more curious about other in-
sects, beetles, dragon-flies, or what-not? If so,
get Leland O. Howard's "Insect Book." The field
is broader, and you will be astonished at the won-
862
BOOKS AND READING
derful life histories recited. Insects are amazing
creatures ! Every pair of bright wings, or each
tiny hum that attracts your attention during a
summer day, has a past that is well worth the
knowing.
Another entrancing book of the same character
(although the subject must be studied by observ-
ing instead of by collecting) is Dugmore's "Bird
Homes." It tells a host of facts concerning the
birds and their young, and many charming anec-
dotes from personal observation. The pictures
alone are a treat, showing the many varieties of
nests and clay houses, and revealing the skill
and care of the small builders, and how they
adapt themselves to circumstances and make
use of unusual materials. You will watch them
at their work with double your present interest
after reading this book, and you will learn how
to discover nests and know the birds, besides
telling one sort of "home" from another as soon
as you see it.
In spring the first thing we hear that tells us
winter is really over is the singing, or piping, of
the frogs at evening.
But frogs do many things besides welcome in
the spring, and you can find out all about them
in Mary C. Dickerson's "Frog Book." You will
like this book. Another, well worth while and
delightfully written, is Ditmar's "Reptile Book."
You cannot begin to guess how extraordinary
reptiles are until you study them and try to watch
them for yourself. Mr. Ditmar tells you, in the
most entertaining way, of their habits and tricks
and changes ; also you learn how useful many of
them are, especially some of the harmless snakes
from which you want to run away. There are
good and bad reptiles, in fact, as there are of
other things, and you will be interested to learn
to know them apart.
If you are fond of fishing (and what boy is n't,
not to speak of the girls), you will enjoy the
book by Jordan and Evermann on "American
Food and Game Fishes." It tells you all about
the fish you catch or hope to catch, as well as
about those that are too rare or too far off for
you to try for. You will also learn of the habits
of the fish and where they are likely to be found,
and of the many ways in use in catching them.
Speaking of fish makes one think of aquariums.
This is a form of collecting that is especially
satisfactory, since the specimens are all alive.
There are many books on how to form an
aquarium, that by Eugene Smith, "The Home
Aquarium," being one of the best. Mr. Smith
gives you all the information you need concern-
ing a fresh-water collection, where to get your
specimens of plant and animal life, how to care
for them and feed them, and how to make the
aquarium itself. He tells, too, which of the little
creatures get on best together, and which plants
will look loveliest in the variously sized boxes.
NOT TO BE READ LIKE STORIES
Of course none of you want to read a book like
those I have been talking of straight through
from cover to cover as though it were a story.
Some portions are to be read that way, but there
are parts to which you will want to refer as oc-
casion calls, such as the descriptions of speci-
mens, the classifications, and scientific data. How
to use a book is almost as important a thing to
know as what books to get. Some books are to
be read through once, some many times, and
others should be kept on hand to turn to, like
dictionaries, not of words, but of things.
DON'T DROP THE OLD SUBJECT
If you decide to take up a new subject each sum-
mer, don't on that account entirely drop the old
one. Have that in the background, as it were,
but still be alert for fresh information upon it,
for new specimens, even though the greater part
of your activity is given to the new thing. If it
was butterflies last year, be on the lookout for
any that are new to you, even while you are per-
haps collecting wild flowers or mosses or rocks
or shells this year.
And don't think you will have to give up your
play for this sort of work. In the first place, you
are likely to find it the best of fun, and in the
second you will have many a summer hour when
you will be glad to have such an interest to fall
back on. To discover a rare wild flower or shell,
a new bird or butterfly, or to observe some fresh
fact concerning an insect or an animal you al-
ready know, adds a marvelous zest to a country
walk. And you will be a better camper and
woodsman for each newly learned fact that has
to do with nature. What you learn for yourself
will stick to you. If you have a reliable book to
fall back on, you won't make costly mistakes ; and
the summer will be richer for every secret of
hers you discover.
The more interests you have in life, the more
interesting life is going to be to you. If you
can't play tennis because it rains, and you spend
the afternoon grouching, you have really wasted
your time. If you have turned joyously to doing
something else, if you have a new specimen to
mount or a plant or bird to study up, you never
miss the tennis, and your day has been a success.
Remember, there is n't just one thing, there are a
hundred waiting for you to be interested in and
to accomplish.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER
Numerical Enigma.
" And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days."
Charade. Antarctic.
Primal Acrostic of Concealed Names.
Cross-words: i. Adeline. 2. Nettie. 3. Doris,
nor. 6. Winifred. 7. Josephine. 8. Alice. 9.
n. Sarah. 12. Olga. 13. Nelly.
Andrew Jackson.
4. Rose. 5. Elea-
Carol. 10. Kate.
King's Move Floral Puzzle, i. Rose. 2. Orchid
4. Daisy. 5. Crocus. 6. Carnation. 7. Begonia.
3. Dahlia.
Tulip. 9.
Violet. 10. Poppy. 11. Pansy. Order of the moves : 46-38-29-30-
37-28-36-35-44-53-45-52-61-54-63-62-55-64-56-47-40-48-39-31-32-24-
23-22— 1 3-14-1 5-8- 1 6-7-6-5-1 2- 2 1- 20-1 1-4-3-10-1-2-9- 18-25-1 7-26-19-
27-34-33-42-4 i-5o-43-5 1-60 -59-58-49-57-
Triple Beheadings and Quadruple Curtailings. Merchant of
Venice. 1. Ele-men-tary. 2. Inc-end-iary. 3. Qua-ran-tine. 4.
Pro-cur-ator. 5. Mat-hem-atic. 6. Man-age-ment. 7. Sig-nat-ures.
8. Per-tin-ence. 9. Hyp-ode-rmic. 10 Per for-ated. 11. Cur-vat-
ures. 12. Lib-era-lize. 13. Pho-not-ypic. 14. Vac-ill-ates. 15. Pre-
car-ious. 16. Suv-ere-igns.
Illustrated Central Acrostic. Bobolink.
Transpositions. Robert Browning. 1. Bore, robe. 2. Rove, over.
3. Bare, bear. 4. Seat, east. 5. Pore, rope. 6. Late, tale. 7. Garb,
brag. 8. Dire, ride. 9. Does, odes. 10. Paws, wasp. 11. Pane,
nape. 12. Sill, ills. 13. Tone, note. 14. Flog, golf.
Connected Squares and Diamonds. I. 1. Haste. 2. Alpha. 3,
Sprig. 4. Thine. 5. Eager. II. 1. G. 2. Dry. 3. Great. 4. Yak
5. T. III. 1. Motor. 2. Olive. 3. Tires. 4. Overt. 5. Rests. IV
1. G. 2. Cup. 3. Guilt. 4. Ply. 5. T. V. 1. T. 2. Era. 3
Traps. 4. Ape. 5. S. VI. 1. S. 2. Ace. 3. Scare. 4. Ere. 5
E. VII. 1. Estop. 2. Serve. 3. Tries. 4. Overt. 5. Pests. VIII
1. S. 2. Spa. 3. Spade. 4. Add. 5. E. IX. 1. Clear. 2. Leave
3. Eaten. 4. Avert. 5. Rents.
To our Puzzlers: Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 10th of each month, and should be ad-
dressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth Street, New York City.
Answers to all the Puzzles in the April Number were received before April 10 from " Dixie Slope " — William T Fickinger —
Claire A. Hepner — Theodore H. Ames.
Answers to Puzzles in the April Number were received before April 10 from Frank Black, 8 — Ralph P. Barnard, 8 — Judith Ames Mars-
land, 8 — Isabelle M. Craig, 7 — Thankful Bickmore, 7 — Florence S. Carter, 7 — Gladys S. Conrad, 6 — Margaret B. Silver, f — Kathryn Lyman, 5
— Harmon B., James O., and Glen T. Vedder, 5 — Guy R. Turner, 5 — Henry Seligsohn, 4 — Helen Wightman, 3 — Gordon Pyle, 3 — Elsa Roeder,
2 — EvaGarson, 1 — Mary Faught, 1 — Douglass Robinson, 1.
A GEOGRAPHICAL ANAGRAM
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
Rearrange the letters in each of the following phrases
to spell the names of countries. When arranged in the
order given, the primals will spell the motto of one of
the countries named.
Cross-words : 1. Lend nag. 2. Rise pa. 3. Bar a
lord. 4. Ted sat in suet. 5. O aim a run. 6. Lay it. 7.
big 're?. '■ 8. A. au'ury. 9. Save R. I. 10. Ties Ted's
aunt. 11. An; iO'i,. iz. I eat students. 13. No coma.
LAUREiNb*^** HA-M. 'TOW -/age II).
ST. ANDREW'S CROSS
*
# * * ■
*******
*****
* . . .
mal. 3. Quoted. 4. Native characters. 5. Concise. 6.
An English river. 7. In scent.
IV. Lower Left-hand Diamond: i. In scent. 2. A
snare. 3. A wanderer. 4. The goddess of vengeance.
5. Savor. 6. A metallic cutting stamp. 7. In scent.
V. Lower Right-hand Diamond: i. In scent. 2.
An age. 3. Applause. 4. To entreat. 5. Mother-of-
pearl. 6. A bond. 7. In scent.
duncan Scarborough (age 15), Honor Member.
DOUBLE ZIGZAG
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas .League Competition)
Each of the words described contains the same number
of letters. When rightly guessed and written one be-
low another, the zigzag through the first and second
columns will spell the name of a famous ship, and
through the third and fourth columns its popular title.
Cross-words : 1. Harvest. 2. To lose heat. 3. Knob.
4. The birthplace, in 1749, of an Italian dramatist. 5.
To fatigue. 6. A dog's name.
bles. 9. Labor. 10. Fastened,
to. 12. Small insects.
JOHN
7. A melody. 8. Quib-
11. To yield submission
M. KLEBERG (age 1 2).
I. Upper Left-hand Diamond: i. In scent. 2. De-
pressed. 3. Proceeding from the sun. 4. A large ket-
tle. 5. An ancient Persian coin. 6. A fabulous bird.
7. In scent.
II. Upper Right-hand Diamond: i. In scent. 2. A
clique. 3. Place, or room. 4. Small steel instruments.
5. A claw. 6. A beast's dwelling. 7. In scent.
III. Central Diamond: i. In scent. 2. A small ani-
FRACTIONAL CAPITALS
Take Vr, of the capital of California, Vi of the capital of
Arizona, % of the capital of Louisiana, Vl of the capital
of Washington, % of the capital of Oregon, Va of the
capital of Colorado, Vs of the capital of Wyoming, and
make the capital of another State.
s. h. ordway, jr. (age 11), League Member.
863
864
THE RIDDLE-BOX
ILLUSTRATED NUMERICAL ENIGMA
In this enigma the words are pictured instead of de-
scribed. The answer, consisting of thirty-five letters,
is a quotation from Daniel Webster. w. v.
MUSICAL ZIGZAG
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
* 35 62 4 20 40 65
60
*
29
55
66
1 1
48
52
14
*
41
39
7
22
33
56
49
*
9
18
68
63
15
38
17
*
57
3
27
8
25
47
3i
*
24
55
12
6
23
45
5
*
67
53
30
13
2
*
36
5i
21
46
1
*
44
59
47
16
7i
*
26
70
64
69
34
*
32
37
5°
43
42
*
54
10
19
57
20
*
61
38
28
58
44
68
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below
another, the zigzag of stars will spell the name of a
famous composer, and the numbers from 1 to 11, 12 to
17, 18 to 26, 27 to 30, 31 to 37, 38 to 4?.. 49 to 54, 55 to
63, and 64 to 71, the names of nine of his warfw.
Cross-words: i. One of the United States. 2~~A-
maker or solver of puzzles. 3. Rare. 4. A companion.
5. Prominent. 6. To try. 7. To mature. 8. A color.
9. A South American country. 10. A legal term mean-
ing to invest with a fee. it. A masculine name. 12.
Idolizing. 13. Unlawful.
ISIDORE HELFAND (age 13).
DOUBLE ACROSTIC
(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below
another, the primals will spell the title and surname of
one man, and the finals the full name of another, each
of whom perished for his country in the American Rev-
olution.
Cross-words: i. The ocean. 2. A continent. 3. To
joke. 4. A solemn affirmation. 5. The title given to
some princes in India. 6. A river of England. 7. A
biblical character. 8. A feminine name. 9. Used in fish-
ing. 10. A city in Pennsylvania.
HELEN A. MOULTON (age 15).
CONCEALED SQUARE WORD
(One word is concealed in each couplet)
Just see them coming down the street,
With such a span I can't be beat.
I am not able to aver
That this or that one I prefer.
No, madam, I should hardly dare .
To let you drive them to the fair.
In vain an early start we plan,
Where shall we find our missing man?
I have no fear, for all concede
So fine a span is sure to lead.
HELEN A. SIBLEY.
CONNECTED CENTRAL ACROSTIC
This puzzle consists of nine
groups of five-letter words. When
the words described are correctly
guessed and arranged as indicated
in the diagram, the first letter of
one group of words will be the
same as the last letter of the ad-
joining group of words, and the
central letters of the nine V" •s,
reading downward . v.-;;, spell the
naiirts ^f_r|ine of the men-»1»'c'ir;gned a famous document.
I. 1. A tenet. 2. A musical . Irama. 3. To scorch. 4.
Unearthly. 5. A country. *. *■■
II. 1. A nut. 2. Second of two. 3. The under-
standing. 4. Obtained from trees. 5. A place of contest.
III. 1. Designated hours. 2. Sarcasm. 3. To supply
with strength. 4. Little women. 5. Attempted. 6. A
kind of match.
IV. 1. A country. 2. To languish. 3. To evade. 4.
A Roman garment. 5. The sea. 6. Less moist.
V. 1. A Jewish vestment. 2. Low carts. 3. A west-
ern farm. 4. Steps. 5. A phantom. 6. To entice into
a snare. 7. Seizes.
VI. 1. The path of a planet. 2. A tilting match. 3.
A measure of length. 4. Briny. 5. Avarice. 6. Kinds.
VII. 1. Meaning. 2. To lay out. 3. Short visits.
4. Coverings. 5. To call forth. 6. Strings.
VIII. 1. Heavy cords. 2. A kind of vehicle. 3. To
combine. 4. A doctrine. 5. A game.
IX. 1. To discolor. 2. A kind of tree. 3. A jewel.
4. A wanderer. 5. To come forth.
edith pierpont stickney (age 13), Honor Member.
I
n
III
IV
V
V
VII
VIII
IX
THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.
All rights secured.
KODAK
For to all the good times on the farm, at the lake or in the parks
is added the pleasure of taking pictures. Then when summer days
are over you have a really, truly picture story all your own about
your friends, the places you saw and the things you did.
KODAKS from $5.00 up.
BROWNIE CAMERAS (they work like Kodaks), $1.00 to $12.00.
Catalogue free at your
dealers or by mail.
EASTMAN KODAK COMPANY,
ROCHESTER, N. Y., The Kodak City.
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
U
The Man of It.
yj
"Talk about housekeeping being hard! Wish I never had anything harder to do
than this getting my own meals for a day or two while Helen 's away."
Poor man! He does n't realize that "Helen" planned everything for him, and that
the Jell-O dessert he is making is the only dessert which inexperienced man could make.
Suppose he had to cook on a hot stove in hot weather!
desserts do not have to be cooked and anybody can make them. For
this reason and because they are exquisitely flavored and delightfully
cool and satisfying, they are the best possible desserts for summer.
They hit that spot in the summer appetite that nothing else ever
touches.
There are seven flavors of Jell-O: Strawberry, Raspberry,
Lemon, Orange, Cherry, Peach, Chocolate.
Each 10 cents a package at any grocer's.
Tbe splendid recipe book, "DESSERTS OF THE WORLD,"
illustrated in ten colors and gold, will be sent free
to all who write and ask us for it.
THE GENESEE PURE FOOD CO.,
Le Roy, N. Y., and Bridgeburg, Can.
The name Jell-O is on every package in big red letters. If it is n't there, it is n't Jell-O.
II
St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No, 127.
Time to ha?id in answers is up July 10. Prize-winners announced in September number.
The Judges of the competitions do not believe
that all St. Nicholas readers appreciate how
much information is contained in the advertis-
ing pages of the magazine, nor realize how
many topics and subjects of interest are natu-
rally suggested to an attentive reader who will
read these pages with the desire to gain all the
benefit they may afford.
Consequently, for this month's competition,
the Judges have had prepared a set of ques-
tions which can be very readily answered by
one who will examine carefully the advertise-
ments which appear in the June issue. In try-
ing to answer these questions, however, you may,
if you choose, use your general knowledge, or
may refer to books for information, since the
answers need not be confined to the exact
statements made in the advertisements. The
object of the questions is to show that the
interest of any intelligent person is justified by
the information gleaned from reading the ad-
vertisements.
1. Where does rubber come from? Mention
one or two countries that supply it.
2. What soap claims to be made from edible
products ?
3. What may you conclude from bacon's
having a thin rind?
4. What is a "sampan," and in what part of
the world is it used?
5. What is the name of the official entrance
to Yellowstone Park?
6. In advertising "Domino" sugar, there is
shown a little girl from whose neck hangs a
mask. Why is the mask appropriately used
in that advertisement?
7. Why is maize called "Indian corn"?
What is the older use of the word "corn"?
8. An advertisement speaks of the Seven
Wonders of the World. Mention the Seven
Wonders of the Ancient World, and then give
an opinion as to what seven should be named
in the Modern World.
9. How much water goes over Niagara
Falls every minute ? Put the answer in gallons.
10. What is a " Sheltie," and why is it so
called ?
11. In an advertisement of a shoe, it is said
that the foot structure is "bene-fitted." Why
is this word so printed?
1 2. In an advertisement of a steamship line
is mentioned "a quick and attractive route to
the Antipodes." Who are the Antipodes for
us in America?
13. Another advertisement speaks of a "jun-
ket party." How many different kinds of jun-
ket can you describe? Show the connection
between them.
14. In an advertisement of a germicide it is
said: "To-day every disease-germ lives in
mortal fear of Dioxogen." Criticize this state-
ment, and, if you disapprove, tell how you
would put the idea.
15. In an advertisement of stockings are
pictures of Father Time. Why is he always
represented with a lock of hair remaining
above the forehead ? What mistake did Amy
March make about this ?
16. In an advertisement of a perfume
("Florida Water") is represented a fountain
upon the label. Tell why this suggests the
"fountain of youth." What is there about
this to suggest Easter Day?
17. Who was "La Belle Chocolatiere"?
In answering these questions, the Judges do
not insist upon any form of answer. They
wish you to write out your ideas of what will
explain the questions, and what the questions
suggest to you. The prizes will be awarded
for the most interesting answers, and will go
rather to those who make good answers than to
those who simply give the plainest answers
possible. The object of the competition is to
show what is brought up in your mind by
the advertisements.
The prizes are as follows :
One First Prize, $5.00 to the one who submits the best
answers.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each to those who submit the
next best answers.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each to those who submit the
next best answers.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each to those who submit the
next best answers.
Here are the rules and regulations :
1. This competition is open freely to all who may desire
to compete, without charge or consideration of any kind.
Prospective contestants need not be subscribers for St.
Nicholas in order to compete for the prizes offered.
2. In the upper left-hand corner of your paper give name,
age, address, and the number of this competition (127).
3. Submit answers by July io, 1912. Use ink. Do not
inclose stamps.
4. Do not inclose requests for League badges or circulars.
Write separately for these if you wish them, addressing St.
Nicholas League.
5. Be sure to comply with these conditions if you wish to
win prizes.
6. Address answers: Advertising Competition No. 127,
St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York.
( See also page 14.)
12
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
UV
'HIGH AS THE ALPS
IN QUALITY"
I'm So Hungry!"
That's the cry all sum-
mer long.
Men, women and children are
bathing in the surf — or sailing
and motoring all day — or tramp-
ing over the hills.
Peter's
Milk Chocolate
is what you want.
It is the food and candy combined, very
nourishing and delicious — pure and whole-
some. Does not create thirst. Don't try to
satisfy your craving for food by eating
all kinds of sweets — stick to Peter's,
and keep in good condition all
the year 'round.
You never grow tired
of Peter's
13
st. nicholas league
Report on Advertising Competition No.
I25
It was very interesting to see all of
the various ideas which you boys
and girls produced for Competi-
tion No. 125.
You know the Judges have al-
ways claimed that the readers of
St. Nicholas are the brightest,
quickest thinkers of any magazine
readers, and in your advertising
work you always come up to ex-
pectations. This time you had a
difficult competition to solve, be-
cause we gave you the outline of a
figure which you were to complete
and make your advertisement fit in.
A great many of you were careless
in working out your suggestions
and, of course, you did not get
much consideration from the
Judges.
Here is another thing we have
noticed. A great many advertisers
claim that while the readers of St.
Nicholas are bright and well able
to appreciate the many things that
are advertised in its pages, still they
do not buy the things which are
advertised. Many of them have
made tests in their advertisements
to see just how many of you are
interested in what they have to sell
and have tried very hard to get you
to write them. You know we
must all stand by the advertisers
who patronize St. Nicholas be-
cause they are your friends as well
as ours. They believe it is well
worth their while to get you as
much interested in what they have
(See also page 12)
to sell as it is for them to interest
your father and mother; so when-
ever you get a chance to say a good
word for the St. Nicholas adver-
tisers or buy what they advertise in
our magazine, just do it, because
you will know you are getting the
best goods that can be bought
and that you are securing the per-
sonal service of the manufacturer
himself.
The advertisements this month
which are entitled to prizes accord-
ing to the rules in the competition
were submitted by the following:
One First Prize, $5.00 :
Ruth Emily Mann, age 14, Illinois
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each:
Cornelia Elliott Divine, age 13, Idaho
Margaret Conty, age 16, New York
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each :
Alex Schrier, age 15, New York
E. Leighton Doty, age 16, Massachusetts
Lois FitzGerald, age 18, New Jersey
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each :
Vera M. Monteagle, age 13, Massachusetts
Cleo Damianakes, age 17, California
A. Jere Norton, age 12, Massachusetts
Olga B. Olson, age 16, Massachusetts
Helen II. Hyde, age 15, Illinois
Lillian G. Olson, age 13, Massachusetts
Anna Dickenson, age 15, Ohio
Dorothy Pickhardt, age 14, New York
Spencer Myers, age 17, Pennsylvania
Louis L. De Hart, age 16, New Jersey
Honorable Mention :
Marjorie Berdan, age 13, New Jersey
Edith Armstrong, age 14, New York
Harry R. Till, age 16, Pennsylvania
Henry I. Pieper, age 15, New York
14
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
The "Good Old Bicycle Days"
Making a Bicycle Tire — Fourth Article
By Harry Davis
WELL, boys and girls, are you ready to continue our trip ? Remember where you were when I
left you last month ? In the middle of one of the United States Tire Company's busy factories,
weren't you ? I'm sure you haven't forgotten any of the many facts you learned about the making
of a bicycle tire.
When my article closed you had reached the compounding machine. I told you that compounding
meant simply mixing rubber gum with mineral substances to give tires strength and wearing qualities
which pure rubber does not possess.
In its present form the rubber, which we have been watch-
ing the workmen prepare, looks like a great mass of bread
dough, but it is considerably darker in color. Now, we'll
continue on through the factory and see what is done with it
after it is taken from the compounding machines.
First of all the rubber must be flattened out into thin sheets.
This is done between heavy rollers which are kept warm.
After these sheets have been rolled out the stock is ready for
the frictioning process. I will explain to you what this means.
Chances are that right here you are going to make an in-
teresting discovery. Notice those big rolls of white cloth
on that machine over there ? Well, that cloth plays a
most important part in the manufacture of tires. I want you
to pay particular attention to it. Examine it closely. Notice
the weave. Here, take a piece of it from the scrap-pile and
try to tear it. Strong, isn't it ? Looks as though it ought
to turn buck-shot, doesn't it ?
This cloth, known as fabric, is woven from the highest
grade of long-fibre Sea Island £otton and is really the foun-
dation of a tire. It contributes strength, helps to prevent
punctures and gives your tires their shape. But- before it can
be used it must be "frictioned," and now we come to this
important step.
Don't allow yourself to be confused by the word itself,
Frictioning the Fabric for the process is simple enough.
The object desired is to give the fabric a coating of rubber. Not only this, but the rubber must be
forced into the cloth and around the threads so that when the tire is finished it will be waterproof, and
have sufficient spring and give to pass over bumps in the road without giving you a jolt or damaging the tire.
Watch how this work is done. You can get a good idea of it from the picture in this article.
A sheet of fabric and a sheet of rubber are passed between heavy rollers under great pressure and the
rubber is squeezed between the threads of the cloth. Leaving this machine we have "frictioned
fabric." And that is all there is to the frictioning process.
We now have a big roll of fabric which has been given its rubber coating, and we will follow it to the
cutting room. Here it is placed in a big machine and we see it fed through automatically, and cut into
strips about four inches wide, on the "bias."
Ask your mother how dress-goods is cut on the bias. She can give you a very good idea of the shape
of these strips of frictioned fabric when they come from the cutting machine.
As each strip comes from the machine it is taken up by a workman and placed in what is called a
book. The back of this book is a board and the pages are formed by nailing one edge of plies of canvas
to this board. The fabric is placed in here to keep it clean while it is being taken to the tire builders.
Everything is now ready for the actual putting together of a tire, so we will devote our attention to the
builders. The tire we will watch them make is one of the single-tube variety, in which the tube, instead
of being separate, is built into the tire. In this factory alone 58,000 such tires are turned out every
month — 696,000 tires a year. And the United States Tire Company has another big factory with
an equally great output. This doesn't sound much as though the bicycle is a back number, does it ?
In my next article I'll give you the final details in the manufacture of a tire. Perhaps when the article
appears you'll be on your Summer vacation. If you are, arrange to have the magazine sent to you.
Maybe you'd like to know how your father's automobile tires are made. If you would, drop me a line.
You can reach me at the United States Tire Company's general offices, Broadway at 58th St., New York.
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
St. Nicholas Pet Department
Announcements of reliable advertisers only are ac-
cepted. The Department will gladly give advice
to all those interested in pets. Address " PET DEPARTMENT," St. Nicholas, Union Square, New York.
Delight the children with a
Shetland Pony
— an unceasing source of pleas-
ure, a safe and ideal playmate.
Makes the child strong and ro-
bust. Inexpensive to buy and
keep. Highest types here. Com-
plete outfits. Satisfaction guar-
anteed. Write for illustrated
catalogue.
BELLE MEADE FARM
Box 9 Markham.Ya,
WHITE SCOTCH COLLIES
J? VERY American Boy should begin his vaca-
tion with a White Scotch Collie for a part-
ner. Collies are brave, kind, gentle, graceful, active,
enduring, hardy, and intelligent. Ideal for camp, city,
suburb, or country. Ours are country raised (on an
island), healthy, pedigree stock, and do not require
artificial heat in the coldest weather. Will have some
beauties to ship when school closes, and can send any-
where in North America. A pair will raise $150.00 worth
of puppies a year. No boy has had his full rights unless
he has owned a good dog. Prices che^p. Order early.
Island White Scotch Collie Farms, Oshkosh, Wisconsin
PURE SHETLAND PONIES
of high class and good disposition for sale.
Send a two-cent stamp for illustrations to
Sta. B.
E. L. ANDREWS' SONS
Bristol, Tenn.-Va.
SHETLAND PONIES
Make Childhood Memorable
Fun, fresh air, and splendid training for
mind and body go with a " Sheltie." Give
your child this best and jolliest of child-
hood-comrades. We breed and train superb
Shetland Ponies. 300 in our herd. Write
for free Price List. " Pony Fairyland,"
a great book, sent for 6c to cover postage.
DUNLAP PONY CO.
20 Spring St., Greenfield, Ohio
A Shetland Pony
will do more good and give greater
pleasure to children all the year round
than any other investment of same
amount.
Get a colt to raise, or buy a mature,
well-trained pony. Costs very little to
keep them. We guarantee satisfac-
tion. Send for Sales List.
Stanley C. Dunning,
385 Putnam Ave., Cambridge, Mass.
Refer to Harvard Trust Company, Cambri
Breeders of
Pure
Shetland
Ponies
SUNNYSIDE
SHETLAND
PONY FARM
Beautiful and intelligent little
pets for children constantly on
hand and for sale. Correspondence
solicited. Write for handsomely
illustrated pony catalogue to
MILNE BROS.
617 Eighth Street Monmouth, 111.
CT. Nicholas appeals to the spirit of perpetual youth
^ in fathers and mothers as well as in the younger
ones. They all put their heads together in mutual en-
joyment of its sparkling pages. In fact, St. Nicholas
is always one of the family. Wise advertisers are
sending their messages into the hearts of these families.
1847 ROGERS BROS
Spoons, Forks, Knives, etc., of the highest
grade carry the above trade mark,
#^
"Silver Plate
£Si
Guaranteed by the largest makers of silverware.
INTERNATIONAL SILVER CO., MERIDEN, CONN.
Successor to Meriden Britannia Co.
NEW YORK CHICAGO SAN FRANCISCO
Send for
catalogue " U-5.
16
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Sip $laititj) ll(inf £ctoere6
Gan6g Goate6
Strong in flavor, but
not offensive.
A delicate morsel, re-
freshing the mouth
and throat and allay-
ing after-dinner or
after-smoking dis-
tress. The refinement
of chewing gum for
people of refinement. It's
the peppermint — the true
mint.
Look for the Bird Cards in the
packages. You can secure a
beautiful Bird Album free.
For Sale at all the Better Sort of Stores
5c. the Ounce and in 5c.
10c. and 25c. Packets
SEN-SEN CHICLET
COMPANY
Metropolitan Tower
New York
jStnce- 1857
BORDEN'S
EAGLE BRAND
CONDENSED MILK
Has been the
Leading Brand
for Nursery and
Household Use
mi. BORDEN'S
Condensed
Milk Co.
) ^J c» w York.
Send for Recipe Book
Send for Baby's Bock
LEADERS OF QUALITY"
>7
3SSS3SS33^SSSS^33S3S5S3SSSSg2322^232^^£2^
S STAMP PAGE
NEW ISSUES OF ARGENTINA, INDIA, AND JAMAICA.
This time it is a three-penny stamp, brown on yel-
low. The stamp is very similar in design to the
two-penny gray.
Liechtenstein has joined the ranks of stamp-issu-
ing countries with a series of three stamps. Where
is Liechtenstein ? It is a small
country, covaring about sixty-
five square miles, bounded by
the River Rhine, Austria, and
Switzerland, and having a
population of approximately
10,000. Its first stamp issue
is in proportion to the size
of the country — only three
stamps, 5, 10, and 25 heller
(equal to about 1, 2, and 5
cents), so that all who read
this page may easily acquire
a complete collection of the
stamps of Liechtenstein. Almost everything in
Liechtenstein shows the influence of Austria, and so
it is but natural that these new stamps should re-
semble the Austrian issue. They bear, however, the
portrait of Prince Johann II, and in the upper right
corner the arms of the principality. Hitherto this
country used Austrian stamps, which will not neces-
sarily be superseded by the local issue. Either set
can be used.
Another little country, Monaco, gives us a new
issue of stamps. By the way, this name is pro-
nounced Mon-a-co, and not Mo-na-co, as one some-
times hears it. Here the currency is centimes, show-
ing the French influence. We have also a new "lib-
erty" set from Nicaragua. This is the work of
Waterlow & Sons, and is an attractive-looking stamp,
MM
NEW ISSUES OF MONACO, PORTUGAL, AND NICARAGUA.
dated 191 1. The five and twenty-five are in two colors,
the others in one. We understand that the higher
values will be of different design, and in two colors.
After a series of surcharges to use up the old
stock of stamps on hand, the new republic of Portu-
gal issues its first stamps. These are in solid color,
like the Swiss. They bear the portrait of a peasant
woman crowned with the Phrygian cap of liberty,
in one hand a sickle, and in the other a sheaf of
grain. This issue marks not only a change in stamps,
but in currency as well. The milreis now becomes
the escudo, and the reis is changed to centavo. The
new centavo is equal in value to ten reis, while 100
centavos make the escudo.
No longer does the portrait of Leopold — "with his
long gray beard and glittering eye"-^adorn the
stamps of Belgium. A new set is issued, the one-
centime being orange and bearing a large figure one
in a square label surrounded by an ornamental back-
ground. The five-centimes shows the Belgian lion,
and the higher values bear a full-face portrait of
King Albert. All have the Sunday coupon as before.
The new United States stamps are out, and al-
ready several of the readers of the Stamp Page have
sent in queries concerning them. The one-cent now
has the head of Washington instead of Franklin,
and the value in the lower label is changed from
"one cent" to "1 cent 1." The two-cent has a simi-
lar change in value. The three-, four-, five-, and
six-cent are not changed. The higher values now
have the head of Franklin. The only marked change
in color is in the fifteen-cent, which now is gray.
The Post-office Department has also authorized the
printing of a special series of stamps in commemo-
ration of the opening of the Panama Canal, and the
Panama-Pacific International Exposition in 191 5.
There will probably be four values in the series.
•7??7?77??/S7?Z??77??Z&Z7?7tt?s777^^
l8
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY
rONTINFNTAI STAMP ALBUM, only
V_V-/n 1 11>E.1> 1 /\L 10c> 8x5 incheSi heavy
cardboard covers, 160 pictures. Spaces for 546 stamps from
135 countries.
SPECIAL BARGAINS
lOSall different stamps from Paraguay, Turkey, Venezuela,
etc., 10c. 35 different stamps from Africa, a dandy packet,
25c. Finest approval sheets, 50% commission. Send
for big 84-page price-list and monthly stamp paper free.
Scott Stamp & Coin Co.
127 Madison Ave. New York City
TAKE NOTICE
U. S. Envelopes cut square at 50% discount, each one correctly
numbered.
NEW DIME SETS
4 Ecuador 1S99, 2 Nyassa 1901, 4 Nyassa Rep. 1911, 5 Portugal
Rep. 1910, 5 Japan (China) 1900-08, 4 Finland 1885, 7 Portugal
1910, 5 Finland 1882, 6 Nicaragua 1912. 1912 Price List free.
Best Hinges. Ideal 15c. per 1000. Ideal Jr. 10c. per 1000.
New England Stamp Co.
43 Washington Building Boston, Massachusetts
STAMP ALBUM with 538 genuine stamps, incl. Rhodesia,
/^SfSfc\ Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania (landscape),
[Mjr^S&i Jamaica (waterfalls), etc., only 10c. 100 dif. Japan,
(■I IV India, N. Zld., etc., 5c. Agents wanted 50%. Big Bar-
\MlJR27 gain list, coupons, etc., all /'roc! We Buy Stamps.
vjBmw^ C. E. Hussman Stamp Co., Dept. I, St. Louis, Mo.
RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
xgipjjv with Catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents. If possible send
«jjn*jj» names and addressesof two stamp collectors. Special
(Ml jKu offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
Wll WE) lie :Jn [apan, 5c; 100 I'. S.,20c; 10 Paraguay, 7c; 17
NjS^S^/ Mexico, 10c; 20 Turkey, 7c; 10 Persia. 7c; 3 Sudan, 5c;
^••sSs^ 10 Chile, 3c;50 Italy, 19c;200 Foreign, 10c; lOEgypt,
7c; 50 Africa, 24c; 3 Crete, 3c; 20 Denmark, 5c; 20 Portugal, 6c; 7
Siam, 15c; 10 Brazil, 5c;7Malay, 10c; 10 Finland, 5c; 50 Persia,
89c.;50Cuba, 60c; 6 China, 4c; 8 Bosnia, 7c. Remit in Stamps or
Money-Order. Fine approval sheets 50% Discount, 50 Page List
Free. Marks Stamp Company, Dept. N, Toronto, Canada.
RARf. AINS EACH SET s CENTS.
Dni\Urtll1J 10 Luxembourg ; 8 Finland ; 20 Sweden ;
15 Russia ; 8 Costa Rica ; 12 Porto Rico ; 8 Dutch Indies ; 5
Crete. Lists of 6000 low-priced stamps free.
Chambers Stamp Co., Ill G Nassau Street, New York City.
different Confederate State bills, 15c
L. Toupal Co., Dept. 55, Chicago Heights, III.
WE WISH NO DULL SEASON
and during the months from June 1st to Sept. 1st will give 66$%
commission on our regular 60% sheets. One thousand mixed
stamps and 10 varieties catalogued at 20c for 12c, accompanied
by our approval sheets. References, please.
Palm Stamp Co.
249 No. Carondelet St. Los Angeles, Cal.
STAMPS' CHEAP! 333 GENUINE FOR-
•J***"** «->• eign Missionary stamps, 5c 100
foreign, no two alike, incl. India, Newfoundland, etc.,
only 5c. 100 U. S. all diff., scarce lot, only 30c. 1000
fine mixed, 15c Agts. wtd., 50%. List free. I buy
stamps. L. B. Dover, D-6, St. Louis, Mo.
70 DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS FROM 70 DIF-
• v ferent Foreign Countries, including Bolivia, Crete, Guat-
emala, Gold Coast, Hong-Kong, Mauritius, Monaco, Persia,
Reunion, Tunis, Trinidad, Uruguay, etc., for only 15 cents — a
genuine bargain. With each order we send our pamphlet which
tells all about "How to Make a Collection of Stamps Properly."
Queen City Stamp & Coin Co., 7 Sinton Bldg., Cincinnati, O.
STAMPS FREE, 100 ALL DIFFERENT.
For the names of two collectors and 2c postage. 20 different
foreign coins, 25c. Toledo Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio, U.S.A.
STAMPS 108 ALL DIFFERENT.
Transvaal, Servia, Brazil, Peru, Cape G. H., Mex-
ico, Natal, Java, etc., and Album, 10c. 1000 Finely I
Mixed, 20c 65 different U. S., 25c 1000 hinges, 5c.
Agents wanted, 50 per cent. List Free. I buy stamps.
C. Stegman, 5941 Cote Brilliante Av., St. Louis, Mo.
STAMPS 100 VARIETIES FOREIGN, FREE. Postage 2c.
Mention St. Nicholas. Quaker Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio.
DANDY PACKET STAMPS free for name, address 2 collec-
tors^, postage. Send to-day. U.T.K. Stamp Co., Utica, N. Y.
STAMPS 105 China, Egypt.etc.stamp dictionary and list 3000 ||S|
bargains 2c Agts., 50%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. !M)
5 VARIETIES PERU FREE.
With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N. Y.
CDrr 50 different stamps to all sending for my approval
* *»*-"*-• books at 50 to 6623 per cent, discount. Reference
required. B. Elmer, 345a Washington St., Boston, Mass.
■Girls ■
Boys—
$1 One Dollar $1
will start you in Business
You can make big money selling BABESKIN SOAP
to your friends. Send us $1 and we will ship you 20
cakes, which you can sell for 10c apiece. The profit will
buy the next 20 and you still have the first dollar.
BABESKIN SOAP is not a new article — everybody
knows about it, and you will find it an easy matter to sell
large quantities.
Send us the dollar to-day that will start you in business.
Do it now, before you forget it.
Babeskin Co., 551 W. 42d St., N. Y.
THE AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION
Sound Beach, Connecticut
For Adults as well as Young Folks.
Arcadia: Sound Beach, Connecticut.
Near to the Heart of Nature.
Seashore, Suburbs, and Country.
In Education and Recreation.
Send 10c. for " The Guide to Nature "
for Adults, Giving Full Particulars.
f AYVAD'S WATER=W1NQS
Learn to Swim by /^q For Sale Everywhere
One Trial
Plain, 25c.
Fancy, 35c.
AYVAD MAN'F'G CO., Hoboken.N. J.
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[The entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission.]
CONTENTS OF ST. NICHOLAS FOR AUGUST, 1912.
Frontispiece. "Gathering Wild Asters." From a painting by Charles Page
C. Curran.
The Crew of the "Eskimo." Story Thomas Hollis 867
Illustrated by I. W. Taber.
A Summer Fancy. Picture. Drawn by C. F. Lester 873
Fairy-time. Verse Frances w. Marshall 874
Illustrated by Elizabeth Colborne.
Romping. Verse Marian Greene 875
Illustrated by the Author.
_The Lucky Sixpence. Serial Story 5 Emllle Benson Knlpe and ) 87g
Illustrated by Arthur Becher. ( Alden Arthur Knipe J ' "
A Domestic Pirate. Verse Charles F. Lester 884
Illustrated by the Author.
The Story of the Song-Sparrow Mary Stewart 885
Illustrated by Reginald Birch.
The Annual Fishing Match. (" Ballads of the Be-Ba-Boes.") Verse. D. K. Stevens 889
Illustrated by Katharine M. Daland.
Petronel's Light. Story Izola Forrester 893
Illustrated by Edwin John Prittie.
The Phonograph and the Birds. Picture. Drawn by Walt Kuhn 897
The Balearic Islands Dr. s. J. Fort 898
Mr. Mouse and Mr. Toad. Picture. Drawn by E. G. Lutz 898
Playing the Game. (Base-ball Series.) C. H. Claudy 899
Illustrated with diagrams.
" The Tug of "War." Picture. From a painting by Fred Morgan 905
The Young Highwayman's Surprise. Pictures. Drawn by C. F. Lester 906
Limericks. Verse Minnie Leona Upton 906
The Lady of the Lane. Serial Story Frederick Orln Bartlett 907
Illustrated by E. C. Caswell.
Point Rock Frank Stick 912
Illustrated by the Author.
Uncle John and His Horseless Carriage Marian Phelps 914
Illustrated from a photograph.
A Team of Ostriches Lawrence W. Neff 915
Illustrated from a photograph.
JThe Townsend Twins — Camp Directors. Serial Story . Warren L. Eldred 916
Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
The Lady-bird— A Folk Charm. Verse Arthur Guiterman 923
Polly's Inheritance. Story Edna Payson Brett 924
Illustrated by Blanche Fisher Wright.
Charles George Gordon Hamilton Fish Armstrong 927
Illustrated by Harry Fenn, R. Talbot Kelly, and from photographs.
The Cheerful Little Girl and Her Cheerful Little Doll. Serial
Story Caroline Stetson Allen 933
Illustrated by Alice Caddy.
When the Day is Over. Picture. Drawn by Sarah S. Stilwell 937
Nature and Science for Young Folks, illustrated 938
For Very Little Folk :
"Bes?de?nreCSSea."} Verse Katharine M. Daland 946
Illustrated by the Author.
St. Nicholas League. With awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems,
Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles. Illustrated 948
Books and Reading Hlldegarde Hawthorne 956
Editorial Notes 958
The Riddle-Box 959
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"GATHERING WILD ASTERS. AN AUGUST DAY IN THE HILLS.'
FROM A PAINTING BY CHARLES C. CURRAN.
ST. NICHOLAS
Vol. XXXIX
AUGUST, 1912
No. 10
BY THOMAS HOLLIS
Excitement was running high at the South
Shore. The rivalry in all sports was keen be-
tween the North Shore and the South ; but never
before had so much interest developed as was
being manifested in the present contest for the
Commodore's cup.
Three years before, the South Shore had organ-
ized a yacht-club. After building a beautiful
club-house, the pier, and the boat-house, it had
surveyed and marked a course upon the lake, and
held its first annual regatta, open to all. The
South Shore boats won everything that year and
the next, and their owners settled down to a feel-
ing of complacency, which was rudely shocked by
the appearance of the Bounder, a North Shore
scow, and her reckless and not oversportsmanlike
crew, who proceeded to antagonize everybody and
carry off the next year's cups. The North Shore
Copyright, 1912, by The Century Co.
867
exulted, while the South Shore vowed vengeance.
But this was in the heat of the season; winter
cooled things off. Of those who had agreed in
August that a defender must be built, each had
concluded by Christmas that the others would do
it. The result, not uncommon in such cases, was
that when the Regatta Committee checked up
boats the following season, no new racer was
found among them. Of course the golf- and ten-
nis-players laughed, and told what they would
have done, which did not improve matters. The
watermen were dejected.
And then the Dorseys arrived. Billy Dorsey
was seventeen years of age, and had three broth-
ers : Jack, who was fifteen, and Andy and Jimmy,
thirteen and eleven respectively. They had all
taken to the water from infancy, and had sailed
the Jimcrack the last season in such a manner as
All rights reserved.
868
THE CREW OF THE ESKIMO
[Aug.,
to gain the admiration of everybody, and the per-
sonal commendation of the Fleet Captain in par-
ticular. Skilful seamanship had marked Billy as
a coming man.
Two days after arriving, Billy hunted up the
Fleet Captain, and entered the Eskimo for the
regatta.
"Where is she?" inquired the Captain in some
surprise.
"Up behind the point. We sailed her over
from Cherry Station after dark last night," re-
plied Billy.
"You did? What 's she like?"
"Come and see her," said Billy.
"Where did you get her?"
"Jack and I built her last winter from plans in
one of the yachting magazines."
"You don't say so ! What do you expect to do
with her?" asked the Captain, smiling.
"Beat the Bounder" answered Billy, promptly.
"What!" exclaimed the Captain, astonished.
When the Captain saw her, he became intensely
interested.
"She has a steel centerboard," Billy explained,
"and a baby jib, which will give an advantage in
heavy weather ; and her lines are better than the
Bounder's. What do you think of her?" And, in
spite of his own confidence in the new craft,
Billy waited for the verdict with a beating
heart, while the Captain looked her over care-
fully.
"You boys are wonders !" he finally exclaimed.
"I believe you will win if you sail her right.
There 's one thing sure, anyway; you 've done
something, and that 's more than can be said of
the rest of us !"
The South Shore suddenly awoke. The Eskimo
"tried out" in all kinds of weather to everybody's
satisfaction. Yachting affairs took on a new
aspect.
The first race of the regatta was sailed in all
the wind the boats could stand up under without
THE RACE.
"She is a scow, and was designed to beat the
Bounder type. We 've thought a lot about it, and
we believe she can do it, too !"
"Well, of all the nervy youngsters, you fellows
are the limit ! Let 's go and look at her," said
the Captain as he started with Billy for the point.
reefing. Fourteen boats were entered, but inter-
est centered in the two scows. At the start, the
Bounder went a little wide in jibbing around the
stake-boat, and the Eskimo slipped into the gap
and got to windward. She was never in danger
after that; and the little white-suited crew
igi2.]
THE CREW OF THE ESKIMO
869
" WELL AHEAD ! '
brought her across the finish-line well ahead of
her rival. The latter went home without coming
to the pier.
Of course a reception was held at the club-
house that evening, and a vote of appreciation of
the "Eskimos" recorded, "for saving the honor of
the South Shore." The Dorsey boys were in
danger of being spoiled.
The next race was not a happy one. The wind
was light and changing— regular fresh-water
trickery. At three of the buoys, the Bounder
deliberately crowded the Eskimo out of the posi-
tion to which she was entitled, and then, on the
last leg, gained an advantage of the wind that
brought her to the finish nearly a minute ahead of
the Eskimo. Again she disappeared up the lake,
and again there was a gathering at the club-
house— this time an indignation meeting to urge
the Eskimo to protest the Bounder for violation
of the rules.
The "Eskimos," meantime, were closeted with
the Captain. They adored the Captain, who al-
ways arose above petty considerations and looked
at things in a manly fashion. They told him the
whole story and asked his advice.
"What do you think about it, boys ?" the Cap-
tain inquired.
"Well," said Billy, "we have made up our
minds that you would not protest if you were in
our place. We would rather try to win the cup
by taking the next race, without any fuss."
The Captain nodded and jumped to his feet.
"Boys, shake hands !" he said. "I am proud of
you ! There is something a lot better than win-
ning cups, and I guess you 've got it. Come with
me, and I '11 tell the crowd what I think of you."
He did ; and when he got through the crowd
cheered, and the "Eskimos" went home happier
than if they had won the race.
The morning upon which the third race was
scheduled to be sailed dawned with the wind
blowing hard from the northwest. Soon after the
Bounder arrived from the North Shore, the wind
increased to half a gale. Before ten o'clock, the
skippers were called together to consider post-
poning the race.
Just at this moment, Jimmy Dorsey came run-
ning up the pier, and said something to the Cap-
tain, who at once turned to the group of skippers.
"Look here, fellows," he said, "it seems to me
that this race ought to be postponed, anyway.
Somebody stole the peak-halyards from the Es-
kimo last night. Billy and Jack have gone down
to Quimby's for new rope, but are not back yet.
They can't possibly get back now by gun-fire. It 's
the most amazing thing I ever heard of."
There was an immediate outburst of indigna-
tion. Questions were hurled at Jimmy too fast
to be answered. About all he knew was that the
halyards had been cut close to the gaff, and had
disappeared.
"Well, boys, what do you say ?" said the Captain.
870
THE CREW OF THE ESKIMO
[Aug.,
Everybody but Jennings, the owner and skipper
of the Bounder, responded immediately in favor
of postponement. He leaned against the boat-
house whittling a stick and said nothing.
"True ; and they knew it when they refused to
protest last night," replied the Captain. "The
gun will be fired at ten-forty. Whoever wishes
to sail the course may do so. I stay ashore !"
"TO THE RESCUE WITH TWO REEFS."
"What do you say, Jennings?" asked the Cap-
tain.
Jennings slowly answered :
"The rules don't allow any excuses for not
being ready at gun-fire. I am here, ready to race,
and am going to sail the course whether any of
the rest of you do or not. For all I know, those
kids cut that rope off themselves, because they
are afraid to sail in this wind. I — "
Jennings suddenly stopped. The Captain, his
eyes blazing and hands clenching, was confront-
ing him.
"Cut that out, Sid Jennings !" he exploded.
"You have a right to stand on the rules ; but you
are not going to express any more opinions like
that about those youngsters. If they had not
wanted to beat you, fair and square, with no bad
feelings about it, they could have protested you
yesterday; and you know it, too !"
"It is too late for them to do it now," said Jen-
nings, looking up from his whittling with a sneer.
"You have n't much to lose if you do," retorted
Jennings, maliciously.
The Captain's jaw set and his eyes narrowed.
"No," he said cuttingly, "I could n't win the
cup; but if I had a chance to win it, and should
do it under the present circumstances, I should
lose my self-respect" ; and he started toward the
club-house.
Three hours later, after a valiant struggle
against wind and waves, the Bounder had crossed
the finish-line, and was heading for home. No
other boat had raised a sail. All but the Captain
and one of the judges had gone to dinner.
The two who remained stood upon the yacht-
club piazza, watching the Bounder. She was
struggling to windward, handicapped by a jib
that was too large to balance properly the closely
reefed mainsail.
"Whatever we may think of Jennings as a
sport," said the judge, "we have to admit that he
is fearless in the wind, and a good skipper."
1912.]
THE CREW OF THE ESKIMO
871
"Yes," replied the Captain, "it is too bad that
he lacks— Good heavens, look at that ! He is
over— No! Yes, he is, too!" and he hastily
trained his glass upon the Bounder.
A great gust, heavier than ordinary, had struck
her, heeling her over until her sails nearly lay in
the water ; partly recovering, she had been struck
again, and apparently had capsized.
After looking a moment through the glass, the
Captain exclaimed :
"She has carried away her mast, and the waves
are breaking over her ! She will go ashore on the
rocks at the head of the island ! We must get
them off before she hits !" and he ran to the
telephone. Calling for herp from the hotel, he
rushed back to the judge.
"Come with me," he shouted, "and help reef the
Dolly!"
But the Dolly was not to be needed. Before
they had finished reefing, a cry from the shore
drew their attention to a crowd from the hotel
On board the rescuing sloop, there was quick ac-
tion as she cleared the sheltering point. With a
slap, the first heavy gust from the open lake made
effort to capsize her without more ado. In spite
of her shortened canvas, she heeled wickedly,
staggering beneath the weight of the blow. Her
little crew, in their yellow oilskins, leaned far
out to windward, while Skipper Billy, nothing
daunted, pushed down the tiller and righted her,
with a tremendous thump, on top of a rushing
wave which sent a sheet of spray glancing from
the backs of the oilskins directly into his face.
"Harden in the sheets!" he cried, dashing the
water from his eyes. "Look out, Jimmy !" he
loudly warned, when the little fellow began to
pull upon the jib-sheet just as a curling roller
bore down upon them. Billy skilfully met it, and
then stood off, close-hauled, in the direction of
the Bounder. Pitching, plunging, and pounding
as only a scow can pound, the little sloop fought
her way courageously and steadily to windward.
'ready!' returned jack, bracing himself for a throw.
who were gazing earnestly up the lake. Jumping
to the wharf, they looked around the corner, of
the boat-house.
Just coming around the point, within the curve
of which she had her moorings, was the Eskimo.
under two reefs and her baby jib. A cheer arose
as it was seen she was going to the rescue.
Between flaws Billy explained his plan, the
wind trying to drown his voice. As they ap-
proached the wreck, Jack crawled forward with
a coil of rope and made one end fast around the
mast, close to the deck. Then, with the coil in
his right hand, and clinging to the shroud with
his left, he waited, eying the Bounder.
872
THE CREW OF THE ESKIMO
[Aug.,
Easing off a bit, the Eskimo headed to leeward
of the Bounder, whose crew could be seen sitting
in the flooded cockpit and clinging desperately to
whatever they could get hold of. Water-logged
as she was, the larger billows found an easier
passage over, than under, her, and seemed to
take pleasure in buffeting these fellows who had
so defiantly challenged their power a short time
before, and who now, between deluges, so
anxiously watched the Eskimo.
"Ready, Jack !" sang out Billy at last. His boat
was speeding toward the Bounder like a race-
horse.
"Ready!" returned Jack, bracing himself for a
throw.
"Let go the jib-halyards," cried Billy.
Little Jimmy obeyed the order promptly.
"Hard-a-lee !" yelled Billy; and forcing down
the tiller, he brought the Eskimo into the wind
just to leeward of the wreck, where, with boom
slapping savagely about, she lost headway not
twenty feet from the Bounder's stern.
The coiled rope shot from Jack's hand ; caught
by a lusty gust, it barely reached the Bounder.
Jennings grabbed at it and missed; but one of his
crew had better luck, and seized the end of the
rope. In an instant Jennings had taken it from
him, and, notwithstanding a wave which swept
over him, slipped it around the rudder-post, drawn
it taut, and made fast.
Held by this line across her bow, the Eskimo
began to dip water like a duck taking a bath.
The flood swept her deck from stem to stern,
nothing but the combing around the cockpit pre-
venting her from filling.
The real man in Jennings now came from his
hiding-place and took command.
"You go first, boys !" he ordered. "Quick !" as
they hesitated. "There 's no time to lose !" and,
seizing the one nearest to him, he actually forced
him into the water.
Clinging to the straining rope, one by one the
Bounder's crew made short work of gaining the
Eskimo's deck, Jennings following close in their
wake. The latter had barely pulled himself from
the turbulent waters, when there came a great cry
from the Eskimo's cockpit; in the excitement of
the moment little Jimmy had risen up to get a
better view, and had been knocked overboard by
the boom.
We are constantly reminded that mean ten-
dencies, of one kind or another, may be balanced
in the same individual by heroic disregard of per-
sonal safety in emergencies. Jennings, catching
a gleam of yellow oilskins as they sank beneath
the waves, half ran, half tumbled along the rail,
and, seizing the end of the main-sheet, which
happened to be lying exposed, plunged over the
stern without an instant's hesitation and disap-
peared from sight. The rope ran out for a
moment and then stopped. The suspense aboard
the boat was awful ; what if Jennings should
come up— alone? But he did not ! A shout burst
from six unburdened souls as the waters parted
and showed the yellow oilskins safe in Jennings'
left arm. He had passed the rope around them
both ; in spite of the slapping boom, they were
speedily pulled aboard.
"Give your orders, Dorsey; I '11 help!" shouted
Jennings, scrambling forward to the line.
"Untie and bring it astern so her bow will pay
off. Up with the jib,Andy! All right; cast off,
Jennings ! Harden in your sheet, Jack !" Billy
howled his orders out of an overflowing heart.
With plenty of ballast, now, upon her weather
rail, the Eskimo tacked around the Bounder and
stood for the pier. The Bounder hit the rocks
before the pier was reached.
Little Jimmy, water-rat that he was, had suf-
fered not at all from his ducking. As he stepped
to the wharf behind the boat-house, he was
grabbed by the Captain and passed up over the
heads of the now hilarious spectators, until he
landed in his mother's arms. One by one, his
brothers followed, everybody laughing and shout-
ing, except the little mother, who, smiling happily
through her tears, tried to gather them all to her
heart at once.
An hour later, the "Eskimos" were conversing
with the Captain.
"It was the steel centerboard and the baby jib
that did it," said Billy. "We never could have
made it in time without them."
"Yes ; what 's the matter with the Eskimo?"
said Jack.
"Or the 'Eskimos'?" said the Captain; "but,
boys, while you have done a big thing, don't you
let it turn your heads. I don't think it will ; but if
it does, and I catch you posing around here as the
only things on the shore, I '11 souse you in the
lake till you get over it." Though he smiled as
he said it, the boys knew he meant it. It was not
for nothing that parents considered themselves
fortunate when the Fleet Captain took an inter-
est in their children.
The cups of the season were presented to the
winners at the Commodore's reception, late in
August, by the Commodore himself. The Com-
modore's cup remained upon the table after the
others had been presented. Without touching it,
the Commodore faced the company in silence for
a few moments.
"In place of coming here to-day," he said pres-
ently, "Mr. Jennings has sent me a letter. He
igi2.]
THE CREW OF THE ESKIMO
873
says that the events which terminated in the loss
of his boat taught him a lesson. He sees that
those acts that grow out of good-will toward
others are far worthier than those arising from
selfish desires. He contrasts his treatment of our
young friends, the 'Eskimos,' with their treat-
ment of him, and finds nothing therein that re-
dounds to his credit. He is grateful to them
beyond measure. He admits his violation of the
rules, and censures himself for taking the third
race by default. He refuses to accept the cup,
and hopes it will be given to the Eskimo. He
hopes that the club will forget his past conduct,
and will allow him to race a new boat next year,
when he will try to demonstrate that he at last
realizes what true sport means.
"I don't know when I have been so pleased. I
have no doubt that you will vote with me to ac-
cept this letter in the spirit in which it was sent.
And now, what has the skipper of the Eskimo to
say about the cup?"
Billy had been conferring with the Captain,
who now arose, smiling.
"The fearless skipper has suddenly become ter-
ror-stricken at the idea of addressing this terrible
assembly !" he said. "He wishes me to say that
he did n't win the cup, and can't accept it ; but
he would like to race Jennings for it next year."
The club adopted this proposal with enthusi-
asm.
"And now," continued the Commodore, "a word
to the 'Eskimos.' The modesty with which they
have received the attentions of us all has pleased
me even more than their courageous rescue of the
Bounder's crew. It is their sportsmanlike spirit
throughout that has caused me to have prepared
for them a little token of the club's appreciation."
He unrolled a package and displayed a pennant,
beautifully made in the club colors, with the name
Eskimo in white, upon both sides. There was a
burst of applause.
"Now," he said, his kindly face lighting with
a smile,, "if the modest crew of the gallant sloop
Eskimo will come forward, I will give myself the
pleasure of presenting this pennant to them in
behalf of the club."
It was an embarrassing moment for the crew ;
but they found courage to approach the Com-
modore, who grasped them each kindly by the
hand and presented the pennant to Billy.
"Speech !" cried somebody in the back of the
room. "Speech ! Speech !" came from all quar-
ters.
Poor Billy ! He was ready to sink through the
floor; but the Commodore put a hand upon his
shoulder, and said :
"Can't you say a word to them, skipper ?"
Billy pulled himself together. "All I 've got to
say is — well— thank you; but if the Captain
had n't threatened to duck us if we got the big-
head, I don't know as we should have got this
pennant."
After which the crew of the Eskimo melted
into the laughing and applauding assembly.
A SUMMER FANCY: THE GOOD-NATURED SWAN AND THE FROLICSOME FISH.
FAIRY-TIME
BY FRANCES W. MARSHALL
When fireflies set their lamps alight,
And twinkle in the grass ;
When stars come peeping through the sky,
I see the fairies pass.
You think, at first, a little mist
Is drifting up the glen,
But keep as still as any mouse,
And hide— and watch — and then—
The mist is not a mist at all,
But fairies dancing by,
As light as wind-blown thistledown,
Their lanterns swinging high.
Some folks may think I make this up,
But let them come with me
When fireflies set their lamps alight,
And hide— and watch— and see !
874
ROMPING
BY MARIAN GREENE
When the clouds are fuzzy-wuzzy and go romping in the sky,
With their yellow edges mussed, like tangled hair,
And the grass is lying low, for the wind is blowing high,
There are flying gleams of sparkle everywhere.
When the shadows chase each other over every little hill,
And the jolly waves run races on the sea,
Then I simply don't see how anybody can sit still,
For the wind is whistling tunes to you and me !
875
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE
Chapter XX
BROTHER JOHN APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS
Unfortunately Blundell was right in his suspi-
cions that a trick had been played upon him, for
Charley had tucked a chestnut-bur under the sad-
dle-cloth, as he confessed to me. It was a stupid
thing to do, and bitterly did we regret it later on,
for in Mr. Blundell we had made an enemy who
liked nothing better than to pay his private scores
under the pretext of subduing "traitors," as he
naturally called us. In such instances he was
very zealous for his cause.
But once Mr. Blundell was gone, we forgot the
incident in our task of caring for those who
were quartered on us. The assignment of their
apartments troubled Mrs. Mummer.
" 'T is Master John's room that worries me,"
she whispered ; "we can't have them in there
rummaging about. There 's no telling what they
might find, though I doubt not his papers are safe
hidden ; still 't would gall me to see the redcoats
in that room that was his father's."
"Do you think they would disturb us?" I asked,
meaning Peggy and myself, who shared the same
bed.
"Nay, they 'd better not!" cried Mrs. Mummer,
bristling. "Think you we have no rights in our
own house? Mummer says — "
"Then I know what we '11 do," I interrupted.
"I '11 move into Brother John's room. We '11 put
Peggy in the next one, and you shall have the
dressing-closet between. That will give us a
place to go when we want to be rid of them."
"Aye, that 's well thought of," she replied.
And not being one to waste much time once her
mind was made up, she soon had two of the black
servants who had remained with us moving the
furniture about, while I did my best to make a
bachelor's apartment look somewhat feminine, and
succeeded enough to befool a man-body, I hoped.
The next few days passed pleasantly as far as
we were concerned, for although Mrs. Mummer
made great complaint over muddy boots and
such-like, those who were quartered on us were
English officers and men, and treated us as con-
siderately as the circumstances permitted. They
were well housed and well fed, and troubled us
as little as they could, so that we went about our
daily tasks quite tranquilly.
But one morning, soon after breakfast, our
peaceful existence was rudely interrupted.
I was busy in the dining-room, dusting about
as was my wont, and beside me little Peg chat-
tered away, while helping to "d-d-dust." Mrs.
Mummer was at work in the root-cellars, and
most of the officers were lounging in the hall be-
fore the fire, for the day was chilly.
I had heard the echo of the hoof beats of a
horse being ridden up the long lane to the stables,
but this was so frequent an occurrence that I
scarce noted it. Then suddenly came a scream of
pain, and Charley, the stable-boy, ran panting into
the room, with a face nigh white with terror.
"Oh, missy, save me !" he cried, falling at my
feet. "Save me from dat Blunder man. He done
cotch me in the stables, and he say he '11 beat my
black skin off'n me for playin' dat trick. Save me,
Miss Bee ! He 's mighty angered" ; and the boy
crouched beside me in terror, clutching at my skirt.
At the same moment Blundell rushed into the
room with a stout riding-whip in his hand and
made for Charley.
"Out of the way!" he shouted at me; "out of
the way, unless you want some of the lash, too !
I promised to flog that black rascal, and I 'm
going to do it. Out of the way !" and he strode
toward me.
"Nay !" I cried, "you shall not beat the boy.
Run, Peg, and tell the officers !" I called, and the
child went at once.
But Blundell, made half mad by anger, came
on, and, gripping me by the shoulder, raised his
whip, making a slash at the negro boy cowering
at my feet. The stroke, however, never reached
its mark, for a hand grasped the man's collar,
and he was pulled back violently and flung to the
floor. I looked up and saw Brother John stand-
ing before me, coolly regarding Blundell with a
look of scornful contempt.
" 'T is a pity, Bee, to have to deal with one of
the few base cowards King George has in his
army," he said calmly. "I am sorry if he is
forced to take such sorry fellows when he should
have gentlemen."
Blundell rose to his feet, fairly foaming at the
mouth.
"Now you will give me satisfaction for this !"
he shouted. But Brother John stepped back and
shook his head.
"I fight but with my equals," he replied.
"Or your betters !" the other stormed. "I am
Captain Blundell, and you, I take it by your own
words, are nothing more than a shabby rebel."
876
'THERE WAS A RUSH FOR THE STAIRCASE." (see next page.)
877
878
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[Aug.,
"And I will fight no blustering coward who
bullies defenseless women and children !" cried
Brother John, losing some of his coolness. "Say
no more, or I will have my servants in to whip
you as you deserve."
"Your servants !" shouted Blundell in triumph.
"Then you 're John Tra vers, and naught but a spy !"
"Nay, I am no spy. I am within your lines on
private business."
"And out of uniform !" sneered Blundell. "A
rope will make a fitting ornament for your neck.
You deserve no less."
"First you will have to catch me !" Brother John
retorted with a smile ; but even as he spoke a door
opened, and full half a dozen British officers,
brought by Peggy, came bustling in upon us.
Brother John was trapped. So far as I could see
there was no escape, and I grew sick with fear
for him.
"Good day to you, gentlemen," he said in a
cheery voice ; "I 'm right glad to see you, though
had you come a minute sooner you might have
seen this — " he pointed to Blundell — "this fel-
low raising his whip to a child. 'T .is a poor re-
turn for such hospitality as this house affords."
A murmur went up from the officers, showing
plainly enough what they thought of the matter,
and Brother John, seizing a favorable opportu-
nity, slipped toward the door leading into the hall,
while I, with a beating heart, ran across and stood
beside him.
"Now I meant not to strike the girl !" shouted
Blundell, " 't was the knavish black boy I was
after. But enough of that. I have been sent back
here to take command, and I order you to seize
that man ! He is John Travers, one-time owner
of this house but now a rebel spy within our
lines. Seize him, I say ! Seize him !"
Brother John, brushing aside one or two out-
stretched hands, jumped through the door and
was in the hall, while I followed close. The offi-
cers, thinking that he would strive to leave by the
front door, ran to intercept him, drawing their
swords; but, to my surprise as well, he made for
the stairway leading to the floors above.
There was a pause, and Brother John, a third
of the way up, turned to them.
"Gentlemen," he called loudly, so that all could
hear him, "I am no spy, but am here on private
business connected with my personal affairs."
"Art going to parley with a rebel ?" cried Blun-
dell, furiously. "Seize him, for whatever else he
may be, he is Allen McLane's right hand."
At this there was a rush for the staircase. I,
with the instinct to put myself between the bro-
ther I loved and his enemies, tore up before them,
and was scarce five steps behind John.
There was a clatter of feet as they pursued,
and shouts of "Post the guard !" Then a voice
rose above the din :
"Nay, Blundell, do not shoot ! You might hit
the girl. He is trapped !"
The significance of these remarks was plain
enough, and I felt a creepy sensation up my back
as I flew on.
On the landing of the second floor John had
turned toward his own room, but it was a wide
house, so that there was time for all to see him
enter, slamming the door behind him.
"We have him now !" they shouted, and indeed I
saw no escape for him from there ; but I rushed
on blindly, and, arriving first at the door,
stretched my arms across and stood before it.
' 'T is my own room !" I cried hysterically.
"You shall not enter !"
They halted for a moment, sure that escape was
impossible, and not caring to use a girl roughly ;
but Blundell had no such scruple and strode for-
ward with a growl.
"Out of the way !" he cried, and, reaching un-
der my arm, seized the knob.
The door opened, and I, realizing the useless-
ness of further resistance, pressed in with the
others. But the room was empty— there was no
sign of Brother John !
Chapter XXI
A MIDNIGHT WARNING
I think there never was a more surprised party
than we who entered that room. I expected
nothing less than to see Brother John standing at
bay, ready to fight for his life; and the officers
must have had the same thought, for their swords
were out and they ran in prepared for a struggle.
Blundell was the first to recover, and he turned
angrily on his companions.
"I think the pack of you meant to let him go !"
he cried, beside himself with wrath.
"Nay, do not talk like a ninny," answered one.
"Sure the fox knows his own earth," said an-
other. "He 's here somewhere, and we have but
to search to find a closet."
At this they set to work, turning the room up-
side down in their hunt ; and when they came to
the door leading to the dressing-room where Mrs.
Mummer slept, they thought for sure Brother
John had gone that way ; but it was bolted on the
inside, showing that he could not have escaped
there. The windows also were all closed and
fastened, save one that was opened a trifle at the
top, so that his disappearance could scarce be
accounted for that way.
It was most strange to me as well as to -the
igi2.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
879
others, and when, at last, they gave it up and
trooped out of the room, some laughing over the
affair while others puzzled their brains for an
explanation, they left me secretly affrighted; for,
though seemingly Brother John had escaped, his
going was so unnatural that I had thoughts of
Marlett's tales of witchcraft.
I was about to return to the dining-room to fin-
ish my dusting, when Captain Blundell entered
alone, a dogged, angry expression still on his face.
"He 's here somewhere — he must be!" he
blurted out. "The guards outside saw naught of
him, so that he cannot have gone that way.
Therefore he must be inside the house. Where
is he?" he demanded, suddenly turning upon me.
"There is a great vine without the window," I
said, "but indeed I know not !" And I was so
plainly puzzled that he troubled me no further,
but searched the room again without result.
The rest of the day passed without incident of
any particular kind, and after dinner I went up-
stairs with Peggy, and we played a while at sol-
diers with our dolls. At length the sleepy miss
was ready for bed, but, ere she lay down, she
took one of the dolls, dressed as a Continental
soldier, and placed him on the broad ledge at the
open window.
" 'T is our se-se-sentry, Bu-Bu-Bu-Bee. He '11
give war-war-warning if the Bu-Bu-Bu-British
come to take us."
" 'T is well thought of," I answered, as I tucked
her under the covers, and, putting out the light,
went through Mrs. Mummer's room into my own.
I lighted my candle and was about to undress, for
we were all early birds, when my eye caught
sight of a paper lying on my dressing-table. I
knew it had not been there earlier, and I picked
it up with much curiosity.
Upon it were written these words :
Sleep to-night with Peggy. I am safe. Do not worry
about me. J. T.
There was no doubt who had sent this mes-
sage, but how had it come there ? I puzzled my
head over it, and was as far as ever from a solu-
tion of the matter when I slipped into bed with-
out waking Peggy.
I soon dropped off to sleep, but it seemed that
I had scarce done so when I opened my eyes again
and saw, in the dim light coming through the
window, the figure of a man dressed in a Con-
tinental uniform. He bent over me, whispering
my name, and I knew him for Brother John.
"Hush!" he warned, speaking so softly that he
did not disturb Peggy on the other side of the
bed; "hush, and listen carefully ! An hour before
dawn you must rouse all our household. Take
food enough for a day or two, and go to the
cellars till after the battle."
"Will there be a battle?" I whispered in awe.
"Aye," he answered, "over this very ground
perhaps. 'T is for that I came to warn you ; but
tell Mrs. Mummer, and she will keep you safe,
I hope."
I had never heard him speak so seriously.
"But what of you?" I questioned; "they have
guards everywhere, and — "
"Fear not for me," he said, "your British
friends will be gone ere morning. Some malig-
nant Tory has given a warning. That I saw com-
ing here. Would that the British were all we
had to fight ! But never mind, we '11 whip them
yet— and say, Bee, have you a bit of white paper
anywhere ? I have searched the other room and
cannot find a scrap. That piece I wrote the note
on was all I could find.
"I have the piece if 't will do," said I, holding
it out to him, for unconsciously I had kept it
clasped in my hand.
He took it and pinned it in his hat.
" 'T is so we '11 know each other in the dark,"
he explained. "Now I 'm off," and he leaned
over the bed to kiss me.
"Are you sure there will be a battle?" I whis-
pered, putting my arms about him.
"Aye," he answered, "Washington's army is on
the Skippack road, and will be in Germantown
before the dawn."
"And will you be there ?" I faltered, fearing
for him.
"Aye, please God !" he whispered, and he was
so earnest and solemn that I put no more
questions to him, and he disappeared in the
darkness.
I was broad awake now, and trembling a little
from fear and excitement at what was before me.
I rose, and, going to the window with my time-
piece, saw that it was midnight, so that I had a
good four hours yet to wait.
Back again to bed I went, and must have dozed
a while, for I started up with the sound of a shot
ringing in my ears. A moment later there came
a knocking on the door.
"Who is it?" I called, jumping out of bed.
"Oh, Bee, please let us in," sobbed Polly, bro-
kenly ; "we 're so frightened !"
" 'T is not locked !" I cried, but I opened the
door to admit her and Betty, who entered, shiver-
ing in their nightrails.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Oh, Bee !" exclaimed Polly, "we were awak-
ened by a shot, and I made haste to the window
and saw a man running; then there was another
shot. Presently, without a sound, all the British
880
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[Aug.,
troops came out and silently marched away.
Does n't that frighten you ?"
Now perhaps if I had not had warning of this
very matter, I might have been frightened too, as
Polly and Betty were, and I was alarmed now,
but not because the British had gone away. I
was sure those shots had been fired at Brother
John, and, though I knew how light of foot he
was, I feared they might have reached their mark.
She was not long gone, however, and when she
returned I saw that she was more fearful of what
might come to us than she had been when first I
told her the news. It struck me that Mummer
could scarce have been a courageous counselor.
"You must all dress at once," she commanded.
"Mummer says we 're like to be lost unless we
hurry to the vaults. He has gone to rouse the
servants and Master Barton. 'T is terrible, ter-
I SAW A MAN IN CONTINENTAL UNIFORM LYING BEFORE THE LONG WINDOW." (SEE PAGE 882.)
"Did the man who was running stop when they
fired at him ?" I asked a little tremulously.
"Nay, he disappeared into the woods," an-
swered Polly. "But why have the soldiers left
us ? That is what seems so strange to me. Think
you they have gone to battle?"
"Let us not borrow trouble," I replied. "You
girls get into bed here. I must speak with Mrs.
Mummer" ; and I went to her room, thinking it
as well that she should know at once what was
before us.
She listened to me while I told her of Brother
John's visit in the night, and straightway rose
and dressed.
"I '11 to Mummer and see what he says," she
announced. "Bide you here till I come back."
rible, and I know not what will become of us."
And with this she went off, wailing, to gather
stores for our forced retreat to the cellars.
Peggy was awake long ere this, and I think
was the only unfrightened one of us. Polly and
Betty were in tears, vowing that they would be
killed, and jumping at each sound. I confess that
my fingers trembled so that it was hard work to
manage buttons, for it was awesome there in the
dark, expecting every minute to hear the roar of
cannon.
Somehow or other we finished our dressing,
and I led the girls down-stairs, to find Mrs. Mum-
mer in the kitchen.
"Mummer is closing the doors and windows
here below," she cried, as soon as she saw us.
191-'.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
881
" 'T is true that the British are gone, which is
somewhat to be- grateful for in these wretched
times."
" 'T is useless to bar the doors and windows,"
said Polly, plaintively; "they '11 batter them in if
they wish."
"That is near word for word what Mummer
said," she answered; "but I told him that there
was no use inviting them in by leaving every-
thing open."
A few minutes later Mummer entered and
spoke to his wife in an undertone. She nodded,
and told us that everything was in readiness, and
we forthwith descended into the vaults to await
the coming battle.
'T was a most uncomfortable and dismal place,
scarce large enough for all who had to be accom-
modated, and dark save for a candle which Mum-
mer hid in a corner. We talked little, and I be-
lieve I dozed, for I had begun to forget my fear.
Suddenly I remembered that I had not seen
Bart, and, when I asked for him, discovered that
he had been forgotten.
There was much talk and wailing on the part
of Polly and Betty, who were forever quarreling
with him, but who now professed profound anx-
iety for their missing brother.
"Some one must go and see where he is,"
sobbed Polly. "He '11 be killed, I know."
I said at once that a search should be made, but
my own idea of the matter was that he had
stayed away of a set purpose, wanting to see the
fighting and perhaps take a hand in it. I natu-
rally expected that Mummer would go, but he
never stirred, nor did any one else. True, Mrs.
Mummer and he consulted in undertone, and at
last Mrs. Mummer spoke aloud.
"Mummer says, 'regrets never mended a bro-
ken pitcher,' and if he is dead of a shot wound,
who will care for the farm ?"
"Some one must go," I insisted, getting to my
feet; "and if no one else will, I '11 e'en go alone."
"I '11 g-g-go with you, Bu-Bu-Bee," said little
Peg ; but I shook my head.
"No, no, Miss Bee !" cried Mrs. Mummer.
"Mr. John would never look at us again if we let
you go."
"Nay, I think he would not be pleased to learn
that we had made no effort to bring Bart to
safety" ; at which I went, though they still tried
to persuade me to stop.
There was no particular bravery in this, for
truth to tell, there was not the faintest sound
about the place except the twittering of the wak-
ing birds. Moreover, I was glad to find an ex-
cuse to leave that stuffy vault and breathe into
my lungs the fresh, sweet air of early morning.
Vol. XXXIX.— hi.
I went up-stairs calling "Bart" as loudly as I
could, but there was no answer, and then I tried
the bedroom floor, with no better results. In my
own room I paused a moment, looking out of the
window curiously at the dense gray fog that en-
veloped everything. There were great hemlocks
I knew, not ten paces from that side of the house.
I could almost touch the branches from my win-
dow, but now I saw nothing of them.
I stood looking out curiously, as I said, when
suddenly I heard a man below me shouting, "This
way !" and the next instant the silence was shat-
tered by a volley of musket-fire. Ere I shrank
back from the window with a cry of terror, I saw
little spurts of flame lighting up the fog, and
I turned to run. At the attic stair I called franti-
cally for Bart, then, with the noise of the fighting
in my ears, I fled in terror to the vaults, and cried
that the battle had begun.
For hours we sat trembling with apprehension
as the battle of Germantown raged above our
heads. The sounds came to us only faintly, but
the discharging cannon made the ground shake,
and low muffled roars reached us and set us shud-
dering. Sometimes there came a lull, arid we
would think it was over. Again it would begin
with renewed vigor, and Polly and Betty would
scream senselessly, while the negro women, hud-
dled in a corner, set up a wailing cry that the end
was upon them, and prayed aloud to be saved.
The hours dragged on fearfully, and we sat
cramped in that stifling vault, wondering what
had befallen our army.
I said more than one prayer in my heart for
my dear brother, who I feared was in the thick
of the battle. Mrs. Mummer was now the brav-
est of us all. The only timid word she uttered
was on Master John's account, and while the
cannon thundered, she was the one who cheered
and comforted us.
As the afternoon drew to a close, I became
restive. My head ached, for the air was most
foul, and as we had heard no shots for long, I
began to clamor to go out. It was no easy mat-
ter to gain Mrs. Mummer's consent to this, but,
after some teasing, she finally let me have my
way, insisting, however, that Mummer should ac-
company me. He, with much reluctance, agreed ;
and so, under strict orders to fly back at the first
sound, we started to reconnoiter.
With bated breath and beating hearts we as-
cended the stair, thence through the kitchen and
scullery and on to the dining-room, without see-
ing or hearing aught to alarm us. The gloom
was intense, but Mummer had left a night-light
in each room, and our eyes, accustomed to the
darkness of the cellar, could see quite well.
882
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[Aug.,
As we went out into the great hall, Mummer
grasped my arm and dragged me back, pointing
at the door of a little room.
"What 's wrong?" I whispered.
" 'T is shut !"
"Aye," I said, staring through the dusk, "it
often is."
"But I opened every door in the house !" re-
turned Mummer.
"Perhaps a draft has blown it to," I suggested.
"The windows are all closed," he retorted.
"We 'd best go back, missis."
"Not yet, Mummer," I said decidedly; "we
can't stay in the vaults forever. I must know
who 's there. Most like 't is Bart, or it may be
some of the officers returned."
"But how got they in?" he asked.
"That I know not," I replied ; "but you wait
here. I '11 go to the door and listen. If any one
moves, I '11 slip through the library and join you
again at the scullery. Is not that safe ?"
"Yes," said Mummer, "unless, belike, there 's
some one in the library as well."
"We can go by way of the library and make
sure," I agreed. This we did, finding it empty.
I tiptoed toward the door and put my eye to the
keyhole. At once I saw that the light in there
was gray, showing that a shutter must be open.
Then I listened, holding my breath, and caught
the sound of low moans.
"Mummer,' I whispered, "there 's some one in
there, and he 's wounded !"
"Then come away, missis," he begged, taking a
step ; but I grasped him by the arm.
"Nay," I insisted, "I am going in, and you must
stay with me, for I may need help."
With that I thrust open the door, and saw a
man in Continental uniform lying before the long
window, which had been burst open. No one else
was in the room, and Mummer taking courage,
we crossed together and bent over the prone
figure.
One look was enough. I dropped to my knees.
" 'T is Master John !" cried Mummer, and from
that moment he seemed a changed man, the cow-
ardice he had exhibited before disappearing ut-
terly.
Knowing that there was work for me to do, I
summoned all my fortitude.
"Mummer," I exclaimed, "we must get him
up-stairs at once !"
"Aye," he agreed; "but first I '11 bar this win-
dow, and we '11 have Mrs. Mummer up to attend
him. She 's a rare doctor with wounds and such-
like."
Brother John was no light load for one man
and a girl, but I was strong, so that we managed
somehow ; and when he was at last laid on my
bed, Mummer hurried away to bring his wife.
She came running, and wasted no time in vain
exclaimings, but straightway set about cleansing
the wound in Brother John's head, which, so far
as we could see, was his only hurt.
While she was thus busy, he opened his eyes
and recognized us with a tired smile.
"I 'm all right," he whispered, and at once
went off into another swoon.
A minute or so later the sound of galloping
horses reached us, and we knew from experience
that 't was made by a troop of cavalry entering
the place.
Mrs. Mummer and I looked at one another in
an agony of suspense, each with the same ques-
tion in her mind.
"Were they friends or foes?"
In answer came a thundering knock on the
door, and the summons : "Open in the name of
the King !"
Chapter XXII
BEHIND THE BOOK-SHELF
There was no hiding the fact that here was a
most perilous situation. While the summons of
the British for admission still echoed through the
house, Mrs. Mummer and I turned to the bed
whereon Brother John lay, unconscious from the
wound in his head.
"If it is Captain Blundell we are lost !" I whis-
pered to her, and she nodded her head in silent
agreement.
"Run and see !" she suggested, and at her word
I sped along the hall and leaned over the balus-
trade, just as old Sam, the house-servant, shuffled
toward the door, grumbling to himself as he
went.
As they came trooping in, the sound of voices
filled the hallway, and I listened for the first hint
that would give a clue as txTwhom they were.
"Now this place pleases me," I heard one of
them say in a high-pitched voice. " 'T is like
we '11 find food that a man may eat and not be
sorry. My life on it, Blundell has been here be-
fore seeing that he led us — "
But I waited to hear no more. The dread news
that I had half expected was enough to send me
back to Mrs. Mummer in a panic.
" 'T is he !" I cried, locking the door behind
me. "What shall we do?"
Mrs. Mummer, wringing her hands, had no
word of help to offer, and for an instant we
looked at each other, not knowing where to turn.
"What is the matter?" came a voice from the
bed, and we faced about to see Brother John,
leaning on his elbow, gazing at us.
igi2.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
883
"Oh, 't is the British !" I said, running to him.
"They are down-stairs and—"
"Now don't get flustered," he replied coolly,
and he made an effort to rise ; but this he could
not do for weakness, and was forced to lie back
on the pillow with a faint smile on his face.
" 'T was a shrewd blow !" he whispered, "I 'm
worse off than I thought." He closed his eyes
again as if wearied, and we feared he had
swooned once more.
But he was still conscious and a moment later
he spoke.
"Mrs. Mummer," he began, looking about the
room, "clean out all these bowls of water and
bloody rags. There must be no sign to tell them
you have a wounded man on your hands."
We both set about it at once, and in a twinkling
the water was emptied at the window and the
place put to rights.
"Though I like not such sloven tricks," said
Mrs. Mummer.
It only remained to take away the telltale linen,
and she was about to go with this when Brother
John called her back.
"Nay, do not go yet," he said. "I '11 need you
both to help me over there," and he pointed to a
chair standing on the opposite side of the room
against the wall.
"But, Master John," protested Mrs. Mummer,
" 't will be the death of you !" And I, too, raised
my voice against it, for I could see no reason in
the move. But he cut us short.
"Nay, waste no time arguing the matter, for it
must be done," he insisted, and rose swaying on
the edge of the bed.
We put our arms about him, one on each side,
and with our help he tottered to his feet.
"Come now," he said, addressing himself
whimsically, "you 're no silly woman, to swoon in
a case like this, though your head does buzz a
bit" ; and he took the first step toward the chair.
Somehow or other we managed to get him
there at last, though more than once we thought
he would fall, and he sat down with a sigh of
relief.
"Now, Mrs. Mummer," he ordered in a faint
voice, "burn those rags in the kitchen and have
a care they are not seen. Nay, Bee, you stay
with me," he went on, as I made a start to help,
so I stood still with an arm about him, while
Mrs. Mummer gathered the things together and
went out through the dressing-room.
"Now, Bee," said Brother John, "you '11 have
to do all the rest yourself, for we 're at secrets
that none but my father and I have ever known.
You will be the third, but you, too, are a Travers,
and will have the place if aught goes wrong
with me. Take down the third book of the sec-
ond row of the book-shelf. You '11 see a nail
behind. Do you find it?" Brother John went on,
his voice becoming still weaker, "for my head is
going round and round."
I searched a moment, and there, sure enough,
was a nail so contrived that no one would have
noted it. "I have it !" I cried excitedly.
"Then turn— it— twice— to— the— right," he
whispered, and to my horror he closed his eyes
and slipped gently off the chair to the floor. At
the same instant there came a sharp rap on the
chamber door.
With my hand on the nail, I stood paralyzed
for a second, then I turned it, and the whole
book-shelf moved under my hand, showing a
small room beyond.
I understood at last, and, summoning all the
strength I possessed, I tiptoed to Brother John
and began to drag him toward the secret opening.
Oh how I tugged, and with what a beating
heart I listened for the next blow on the door,
which I was sure would come !
I had dragged Brother John half-way through
the little opening when the knock sounded again,
and with it the voice of him I dreaded most.
"Mistress Beatrice," he cried, "are you there?"
and he turned the knob of the door.
Panting with my efforts as well as the anxiety
I felt, I dragged at the dead weight, and, at last,
when I thought my strength must fail me,
fetched him across the threshold of the secret
chamber. Then leaving him, for I dared not de-
lay, I stepped over his outstretched legs.
Sliding shut the panel, I stood panting, with my
back to it, my hands pressed to my breast as if
to stop the wild beating of my heart.
"Mistress Beatrice," Blundell called, again
striking the door heavily; "Mistress Beatrice, are
you deaf?"
"Who calls?" I answered, vainly trying to make
my voice sound natural.
" 'T is Captain Blundell," came the impatient
answer; "there is a wounded man — "
"How know you that?" I cried in despair, too
overwrought to measure my words.
"Because 't was I who brought him here," he
shouted. "But what has that to do with it ? The
man is here, and needs attention ; and though
I 've searched for that sour old housekeeper of
yours, I can neither find her nor the place she
keeps her lint and bandages."
My heart began to beat more naturally again.
"I shall come at once," I answered; "but do
not wait for me."
"Nay, then," he returned suspiciously, "I '11 wait
till I see you. Belike you '11 move the quicker."
884
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
I saw that the man meant to stay, and that the
quicker he was pacified the quicker I could return
to Brother John ; so I went to open the door,
though my heart bled to leave my brother lying
on the floor of the secret room.
Captain Blundell stepped across the threshold
of the room as I faced him, and his eye caught
the tumbled bed where John had lain.
"So you were asleep !" he sneered. "I thought
I should have to beat down the door to make you
hear. 'T is a nice lazy life you have of it. Had
I my way 't would not be the king's loyal subjects
but the rebels who did the work."
And with that he went out of the room, saying
"Come on" in his roughest manner; and I fol-
lowed thankfully.
The hall below was full of officers who were
strangers to me, and they were busy making
themselves very much at home when we came
down. Captain Blundell asked where the
wounded man had been taken, and, receiving an
answer, he would have led me on, but at that
moment Mrs. Mummer came out of the library
and met us.
"For shame to bring the child here !" she cried
so loudly that the men about us stopped their
talking to listen. "Wounded soldiers are no
proper sight for a little maid."
"Hold your tongue, woman !" he answered.
( To be con
" 'T is time you all learned more fitting manners
to your betters. I mean this lazy maid shall tend
the man. Faith, there 'd be no such pother were
it one of your own ragamuffin army ! Out of
the way ! My mind is made up on the matter !"
"Aye, then, so is mine ! And in she shall not
go !" cried Mrs. Mummer, facing him valiantly.
'T was not so much on my account that she
braved the man as for the sake of one lying help-
less up-stairs and sorely needing attention.
I know not how that controversy might have
ended, for Captain Blundell seemed determined
to have his way, and Mrs. Mummer was one not
easy to move ; but, at that moment, a soldier
came up to Captain Blundell, saluting.
"Colonel Taunton's compliments, sir," he said ;
"an' he wishes you should wait on him at once.
He is taking up his quarters in this house."
I saw the captain scowl, for here was one who
was his superior; but without another word, he
turned and left us.
"And what of Master John?" whispered Mrs.
Mummer, coming close to me.
"He is safe," I answered ; "but I know not
how he fares. He fainted, and I was forced to
come away, leaving him lying on the floor."
"Go back," she said; "the wound may have
started afresh, and he be like to bleed to death.
I go to make him a posset."
tinned.)
A DOMESTIC PIRATE
BY CHARLES F. LESTER
I 'd like to be a pirate
And sail the ocean blue,
And capture "Indian traders"
With my gallant pirate crew.
I 'd glory in the tempests
And in the thrilling fights;
But I think I 'd like to fix it
So I could come home nights !
$odc£- sparrow
There was once a king who had two beautiful
daughters. The eyes of one were gray, and her
hair dark and long ; she was called Princess
Night; while the other, who had blue eyes and
hair as golden as the sunbeams, was called Prin-
cess Day.
Princess Night wore a crown of diamond stars
upon her waving black hair, and her dark blue
mantle was embroidered with shining stars and a
silver moon.
Princess Day wore a crown of jeweled flowers,
her soft, white gown was held in place by a girdle
of golden butterflies, and her mantle, which was
sky-blue, was embroidered with birds of lovely
colors. The two princesses were so fond of each
other, and of the king, their father, that all went
happily in the palace until one day the king mar-
ried a woman who was a wicked witch. He did
not know how bad she was, but he ought to have
guessed, for her eyes were bold and cruel, and
her mouth was narrow and ugly. She was a jeal-
ous stepmother to the two princesses, and the
sweeter they were with her, the more she hated
them and tried to do them harm. She was espe-
cially angry when she saw how the people loved
them, for they cheered, waved their handker-
chiefs, and cried "Hurrah," whenever the prin-
cesses passed ; signs of love they never showed
at the sight of her cruel face. So the witch made
up her mind that she must get rid of her step-
daughters, at all costs.
She shut herself up for days in a room in the
castle tower, a place with no windows, so that
neither light nor sound could enter. She knew
that the most wicked of her tricks would not
work unless they were planned away from the
light of sun and moon, and in a place where no
song from man or bird could be heard. So behind
the thick, stone walls of the tower room, lighted
by the glow of a red lamp, she worked her
ghostly incantations. She made a diamond star
and a ruby rose that looked like one of the stars
and one of the flowers in the princesses' crowns,
but, oh, how different they really were !
They were filled with magic, as we shall see.
A'nd all the time the stepmother worked, she
kept the goblins and demons who were her slaves
working too. She ordered them to build a high,
885
886
THE STORY OF THE SONG-SPARROW
stone tower, with only one small window near the
top to let in air, and to prepare a mist which
would hide this tower from all the world. It was
a strange mist, which no sound or ray of light
could pass through, for the witch knew, as I said
before, that a ray of light or a note of music
would destroy her wicked charms.
In this tower she planned to imprison the two
princesses.
At last her work was done— the star and flower
finished, and the tower and mist ready. Then,
THE WITCH IN THE TOWER ROOM.
with a cruel smile, she kissed the princesses, say-
ing she had a present for each of them— an addi-
tion to their lovely crowns.
They took the gifts without dreaming of harm,
and thanked their stepmother prettily. Princess
Night placed the brilliant stone star with the
others in her crown, while Princess Day laid the
ruby rose beside a shining water-lily.
And then— they fell into a sleep so deep and so
long that they never knew when goblins sur-
rounded them, lifted them, and flew with them to
the lonely tower hidden in the silent, dreary mist.
When they awoke in the dark, they were terri-
fied, and if they had not remembered they were
princesses, I think they would have cried. As it
was, they tried to be brave, to wink back their
tears, and find a way out of their prison. But the
only opening was a tiny window far above their
heads, through which came a glimmer of cold,
gray mist.
So they held each other's hands, and through
the long days which followed, they tried to forget
their loneliness in talking of all the beautiful
things they had once seen in the world, flowers
and birds, stars and sunshine.
The goblins brought them food, so they did not
starve, and sometimes they slept, although they
never knew when it was day or night. That
strange gray mist was never any lighter or any
darker as it streamed through the tiny window.
The poor king was miserable when he found
his daughters had disappeared, and the witch-
queen made believe she was sorry, too. She said
she feared they had run away with the two
princes, Prince Night-wind and Prince Dawn,
who were their dearest friends, and who had
hoped sometime to marry them.
So the king sent for the princes, and when he
found they had left the country, he was forced
to believe that they had run away with his two
daughters. He and his people put on black robes,
and all the bells were tolled solemnly to show how
the whole kingdom mourned the loss of Princess
Day and Princess Night.
But, as we know, the princes had not run away
with their lady-loves. Instead of that, they were
trying their best to find the princesses. They
knew what had happened, for the evening star,
which twinkles in the sky before any of the other
stars open their eyes, had seen the sisters carried
away. This star sang a little song to the princes,
telling them that far to the north, hidden by a
thick mist, stood a tower in which the princesses
were shut up. There was only one way to save
them, the star said. If the sisters could be made
to sing, to answer, perhaps, a song outside their
tower, the charm would be broken.
That seemed very simple to the princes. They
had often sung songs beneath the palace win-
dows, and the princesses had answered with still
sweeter music. So very hopefully the two young
men hurried to the north until they reached the
magic mist. All day they tried to sing there, but
not one whisper could be heard through that gray-
ness. And the light of the lantern they carried
went out at oixe, for no beam could shine there,
and the princes lost their way, and struggled back,
disappointed and discouraged.
Just as they reached the edge of the fog again,
the sun was rising over the world, and hundreds
THE RETURN OF THE PRINCES AND PRINCESSES.
THE STORY OF THE SONG-SPARROW
of birds of all colors, and with many different
songs, were singing gladly to welcome it.
"I have a splendid plan," exclaimed Prince
Dawn. "Let us send two birds to sing to the
princesses. They can fly over the mist, and when
the maidens hear their song, they themselves
will surely sing for joy."
"That is a fine idea !" answered Prince Night-
wind. "Let us choose the most beautiful birds
here to break the spell which imprisons our be-
loved princesses."
So they chose a bright blue and a gorgeous
orange bird, and quickly they flew away over the
mist. But when they reached the little tower
window, all their notes had died away. They
could sing beautifully in the sunrise light, but in
a dark gray fog, they forgot their song, and
slowly and sadly they flew back to tell the princes
of their failure.
For a moment, Prince Night-wind and Prince
Dawn stood silent and puzzled. Then, beside
them, a little brown bird, a song-sparrow, twit-
tered : "The darker the day, and the deeper the
mist, the sweeter is my song. Do — send— me !"
The last words were sung in three long, sweet
notes, after which the sparrow gave a trill so gay
and bright that even the sunrise itself was not
more joyful.
The orange bird and the blue bird flapped their
wings scornfully, but the princes were delighted.
"Dear little sparrow !" they cried. "Sing like
that to the princesses, and they will surely answer
you."
So off over the gray mist and down to the tiny
window flew the song-sparrow. On the window-
sill it perched, and then, although the mist was
grayer and colder than ever, it sang and sang,
as if all the glory of the sunrise was around it.
Within the tower the princesses sprang to
their feet, listening with shining eyes, and when
the last trill died away, they sang in answer:
"O little bird, you sing of light,.
From stars and moon and sun so bright;
The fragrance of flowers fills your song,
You bring us the hope for which we long."
As their voices rose, sweet and clear, a queer
rumbling sound was heard, and at the last note
the tower crumbled and faded away, while the
mist lifted,— for the charm was broken !
The wicked queen was driving in the royal
coach with the king at that moment ; but, being a
witch, she knew what had happened, and fearing
that when the king found what she had done, he
would shut her up in prison, she turned into an
ugly old hag, and flew away on a broomstick.
Oh, how surprised the king and all his people
were ! But an instant later, they had another
surprise, and a pleasanter one. For up the street,
on a fine, black horse, rode Prince Night-wind
with the Princess Night behind him, and beside
them, on his white horse, rode Prince Dawn, with
the Princess Day.
Then all the bells were rung again, wildly and
happily this time, and the people danced in the
streets while the king danced in his palace.
For his dear daughters had come home again,
more beautiful and loving than ever, and with
them had come the princes who had saved them,
whom they married that very day.
And what music do you suppose they had for
the wedding?
Not an organ, or fiddle, or flute ; nothing but a
chorus of little, brown song-sparrows ; but the
folks who were there say that never in all their
lives had they heard music so sweet and joyous.
THE ANNUAL FISHING MATCH
Vol. XXXIX.— 112
890
BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES
[Aug.,
Now Richard Rollick was a lad
Who studied fishing lore;
The information that he had
Concerning haddock, hake, and shad,
Was quite immense ; and, I may add,
Was never known before.
So on their latest trip he went,
With hope and courage up ;
His pocket-money he had spent
On tackle which was plainly meant
All kinds of fish to circumvent,
And so secure the cup.
That day the luck was simply great
For all — excepting one;
The fish would not, I grieve to state,
So much as look at Richard's bait,
Save one quite unattractive skate —
And that was worse than none.
1912.]
THE ANNUAL FISHING MATCH
891
The others wielded line and ro
And pulled up fish galore !
The deep-sea salmon, smelt, and cod.
The mackerel, and perch, and scrod,
And fish with names distinctly odd,
And mullet by the score.
Till suddenly it came about
The bites began to fail;
When Richard Rollick gave a shout,
Reeled in his line, and hauled right out
A catch which proved beyond a doubt
To be an Arctic Whale !
That Richard's skill had won the prize
Seemed plain as one could wish ;
Till Captain Roundy, bold and wise,
Remarked : "This beats 'em all in size,
But there 's one fact we can't disguise :
A whale is not a fish !
892
BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES
'The rules for 'largest fish' decree,
So Richard does n't win."
But Richard said, "If you '11 agree
This whale shall now dissected be,
For on his back this sign we see,
Which reads: Inquire Within!"
And there they found what Richard sought,
A shark three feet by nine ;
And their investigation taught,
When to the light the fish was brought.
That shark had certainly been caught
By Richard's hook and line.
So Richard won the trophy rare.
And bore it home with pride ;
And when he tells of this affair
At dinner-parties anywhere,
He ends by saying, with an air:
"It pays to look inside."
\
PETRONEL'S LIGHT
BY IZOLA FORRESTER
Tall sand-hills guard the harbor at Point au
Manitou ; great golden cones that catch the sun-
light, and form the first glimpse of land to the
craft on the lakes, as they
pass the straits, and sail
southward toward Chicago.
But if they travel by night,
it is Petronel's light by which
they guide their course.
Every one called it Pet-
ronel's light after the cap-
tain was crippled at the
wreck of the Lucy B., from
Petoskey. The Lucy B. was
a big lumber boat, laden
with Christmas trees, and
she went ashore at the Point
one bitter December night.
There were Christmas trees
along the icy beach for miles,
Petronel remembered, and
she could remember, as well,
how the captain and the life-
savers had tried to bring the
crew ashore, while she and
her mother watched up at
the lighthouse window. They
had saved some of them, too.
The medal on the captain's
breast helped him to bear
being a cripple for life, and
Petronel was always so very
proud and glad when the
summer visitors came over
to the little garden at the
lighthouse, and asked to see
the captain and his medal.
The only trouble was that,
after the wreck, the captain
never climbed the long, wind-
ing stairs up to the great light-room again. Some-
times Petronel would go up and light the lamp,
and sometimes her mother would; but, of course,
way off at Washington, the official tender of the
light at Point au Manitou was Captain Barty
Buteau. Only the people around Manitou Islands
and the lakemen knew that the real tender was
Petronel. So they would always salute her when
they passed. One, and two, and three whistles,
the last very long drawn out. That is the way
all the steamers, and lumber barges, and tugs
saluted Petronel when they passed by day or
night, and I think those long whistles pleased
her more than anything that happened in the
lonely gray lighthouse far out on the Point.
Petronel was fifteen when
the captain went to his long
home beyond the bar. It
happened in the winter,
when the heavy nor'-
westers would pile the
ice around the light-
house like great ice-
bergs. They could
hardly have pulled
"A! I. THE
STEAMERS.
AND LUMBER
BARGES, AND
TUGS SALUTED
PETRONEL
WHEN THEY
PASSED."
through, and kept
the light burning, if
it had not been for
Hardy, one of the life-
saving crew from the
Point. Every day he would
take the long walk down the shore from the har-
bor town, and see that Petronel and her mother
were warm and had supplies ; so that it was no
wonder Petronel felt he was their best friend
now that the captain was gone.
"I hope we shall always be good friends,
894
PETRONEL'S LIGHT
[Aug.,
Hardy," she would tell him. "For I shall stay
here at the Point all my life, and take care of
the light, and you will be at the station all your
life, and be a life-saver. I do not think the north
shore could get on without us two."
Hardy did not say much. He would just smile,
but surely in all the towns that edge the lakes,
never was there such a smile as Hardy's, and
his eyes were long and deepest blue, and they
would almost shut up when he smiled. It was as
if he smiled with his eyes too. Sometime, long
ago, there had been a wreck, and Hardy had
drifted in, like a little bobbing cork, with a life-
buoy around his fat, little body, and too much of
Lake Michigan in his system for solid comfort.
The crew down at the Point station had adopted
him for their own, and he had grown up with
them, thinking that Captain Barty was the most
wonderful sailor in the world, and that Petronel
was the most faithful tender a light could have.
So it came as a severe shock and surprise to
both when the news circulated around the Point
that a new lighthouse tender was to be appointed
in place of the captain. It appeared that down
at Washington, where these things are arranged,
nobody knew that it was Petronel's light, and
that she always took care of it, and intended to
as long as she lived.
"If you could just see the senator," Hardy told
her. "I think he 'd understand. He looks sensi-
ble. He 's got short whiskers like the captain,
and he laughs deep. Rathburn is his name."
"Where have you seen him ?" Petronel de-
manded.
"He is at the hotel over Sunday. Why don't
you go and talk to him? Why don't you tell him
you want the light yourself, and that you and
your mother can take care of it always ?"
Petronel looked back at the far end of the pier.
At the base of the tall gray stone tower was a
little house. It leaned up against the tower con-
fidingly, and there was a very small, square
garden-plot in front of it, where Petronel's sweet-
peas and pansies fought for room with white
clover and sorrel. It was all very, very dear to
her, — gray tower, and little leaning house, and
garden-plot. She rose, and unpinned her skirt.
"I will see him and tell him," she said soberly.
"I will keep the light, Hardy."
But it was so much easier to say than do. She
went over to the hotel that night, after she had
rowed out to hang the lanterns on the tall piles
that marked the harbor channel. She had made
up her mind just what she would say to the man
who went to Washington ; how she would make
him understand just what the light meant to her
and her mother ; how it almost seemed to belong
to them, they loved it so. But at the hotel they
told her, very kindly but flatly, that the senator
would see no one. He was resting from a nervous
breakdown, and could not be disturbed.
The next day was Saturday and a very lively
day at the Point. It was already August. The
long winding row of summer cottages along the
shore were filled with people from Chicago and
smaller towns. The porches of the big hotel be-
tween the sand-hills looked like flower-beds, with
the gaily hued dresses and parasols. Petronel's
eyes followed them now, as she sat on the long
pier. She liked to watch the summer people, but
she never envied them any more than she envied
the wild ducks that flew south in the fall. Rather
would she have expected them to envy her, Petro-
nel of the Point light.
On Saturday, Hardy always worked all day,
cleaning the life-boat and everything at the
station, until every speck of metal shone like gold
and silver. And up at the light, Petronel would
work too, polishing and cleaning everything, for
on Sundays there was always a steady flow of
summer visitors to inspect both places. But along
toward evening, the clouds settled down over the
lake, and the wind boomed up the straits like far-
off cannon.
Hardy came on a run down the shore in his
oilskins when the storm broke. Petronel was
just shutting up for the night when she heard
him call out.
"They want to know up at the station if you
need help with the light ? It 's going to be a wild
one. I '11 stay if you want me."
Petronel backed up against the door, the wind
whipping her hair across her face. She could
hardly hear him in the gale, but she laughed back,
and shook her head.
"We 're all right."
"There 's an excursion boat coming in from
Mackinac," he shouted, making a speaking-
trumpet with his hands. There was something
else he said besides, but the wind tore down on
them, and carried it away. Petronel could guess,
though. If there was an excursion boat bound
down the lake, laden with women and children,
the Point light must watch for them like a
mother's eye, and guide them into the harbor.
"We must be up all night, my. Pet," Madame
Buteau said, calmly, when she heard of it. "We
must keep the light very bright, and well trimmed.
It is the beginning of the equinox, and we will
have the very bad storm, I fear."
All night they sat in the little kitchen, listening
to the crashing of the storm, and the roar of the
heavy seas sweeping in over the long piers. Run-
ning, racing, pounding, they seemed like thou-
I9I2-]
PETRONEL'S LIGHT
895
sands of feet to Petronel, just as though an army
were assaulting the lighthouse, and trying to scale
its high, stone walls.
Every half-hour they took turns climbing the
kerchiefs were waved at her, while the captain
sent out his long salute to the light.
Somehow, in the darkness on the winding
stair, the tears came freely, and she sobbed as
"SHE COl'LD HARDLY HEAR H 1 M IN THE GALE.
narrow stairs to the light-room, to be sure the
big reflectors were working properly, and the
great radiant eye was blinking regularly, now
red, now white, then red again.
When it was Petronel's turn, her mother would
wait for her at the foot of the stairs. It was im-
possible to catch each other's voices in the noise
of the tempest. The thundering of the seas out-
side was like some mighty cataract, and over-
head the real thunder of the sky crashed into it,
and blended.
• On the way down the stairs, each time, Pet-
ronel would stop to look out of the narrow win-
dows, for some sign of the lights on the Queen of
the Straits. She knew the steamer, and loved it,
as one of her passing friends that kept her com-
pany. Twice a week it passed the Point, going
up and down the lake from the straits to Manis-
tee and Grand Haven. Petronel always watched
for her, the slender, white-hulled boat, the decks
crowded with pretty, summer-clad girls. She
loved to wave back when all the fluttering hand-
she pressed her face to the chill window-pane,
watching for the Queen's signals.
"Hurry, cheric," said the mother, anxiously,
down at the foot of the stairs ; but all at once
there came a great peal of thunder, with a swift,
terrible flash of lightning, and all the world
seemed to be full of fire.
When Petronel uncovered her ears, and stood
up again, she called out, but Madame Buteau
was already up the stairs.
"Quickly, child, quickly !" she said in a low,
steady tone. "See, the light is out. The tower
has been struck ! Bring me the lamp from the
kitchen."
Just for a moment Petronel hesitated. She had
seen a new kind of light out of the window, not
the broad, beautiful pathway of clear, luminous
radiance like the wake of the moon itself, but a
vivid, reddish glow that seemed to make her heart
stop its beating. Lightning had surely struck the
lighthouse, and it was on fire.
And suddenly, out on the dark lake, there came
896
PETRONEL'S LIGHT
[Aug.,
three long-drawn whistles. The Queen was try-
ing to beat her way to the channel that led to the
harbor, and had seen the light go out.
Without a word, Petronel sped down the stairs,
through the low, white-washed tunnel that led to
the keeper's dwelling. The
telephone caught her eye,
and she ran to it, and lifted
the receiver. It sent thrills
of electricity up her arm,
and she could hardly hear
the answer of the central
office, through the strange
crackling noises that filled
the instrument. But she
managed to convey the
message that the lighthouse
had been struck, and help
must be sent at once.
Swinging over the long
table was the captain's fa-
vorite lamp. It had hung
in the cabin of his schooner
the Huntress for years, on
long trips up and down the
waterways of the great sis-
ter lakes. Petronel had al-
ways imagined it to be a
very plump, motherly sort
of thing, with its low, capa-
cious brass bowl and large,
spreading tin shade. The
captain had laughingly hu-
mored the notion, and they
had always called the old
lamp "Madame," quite as
if it understood.
Petronel lifted it from its
hanging frame, and bore it
carefully back up the wind-
ing staircase to the light-
room.
"That is well. Hold the
lamp high, Pet," her mother
ordered. She was working
quietly, steadily, deftly, over
the great, flat-wick lamp.
Outside, the other light
showed up in flares of yel-
low and red against the
night. The big reflectors that moved by clock-
work were still shifting back and forth, but there
was no light to reflect.
"Mother," Petronel said once. "The tower is
on fire !"
"So much the better. The ship will see the
glow," answered Madame Buteau, cheerily. "It
is all of rock, child ! It cannot perish. Only the
window casements have caught, and this pelting
rain will soon put it out. It is only for the light
we must fear."
Again the long, appealing whistles called from
PETRONEL BORE IT CAREFULLY BACK TO THE LIGHT-ROOM.
the lake, and before they died away, the captain's
lamp was placed safely within the reflectors, and
out over the dark channel waters shone the beams,
showing the safe course to take, and bringing
hope and safety to hundreds.
"It will burn now safely," Madame Buteau said.
"Can you see the lights on the steamer, cherief"
'912]
PETRONEL'S LIGHT
897
Petronel tried to peer out of the great lantern
around her, but the light was too glaring, and
she went down to the window on the stair land-
ing. Pressing her face against the pane, she
made out the port lights on the Queen, as she
turned toward that beckoning path.
"She 's coming in, Mother dear !" she cried.
And as the steamer made the harbor in safety,
after threading that narrow channel of peril,
Madame Buteau held Petronel close in her arms,
and thanked God for the lives that were saved
from old Michigan that night.
It was Monday morning when Petronel came
down the walk from the hotel, and her face was
so smiling that when Hardy saw it, he smiled
too, out of sympathy. For out of the many who
had faced death on the Queen of the Straits, had
been Senator Rathburn's own wife and daughter,
and all during that night of storm and dread, he
had paced the hotel porches and the beach, watch-
ing the steady, faithful pathway of guidance that
the Point light sent out ; and he had sent for Pet-
ronel the next day to tell her what he thought of a
girl who could stand at her post like that.
"What did he say, Pet?" Hardy asked, as they
swung away from the summer crowd, and took
the short cut over the sand-hills to the light.
"Did he say you should have a medal like the
captain?"
Petronel laughed, and shook her head.
"He did n't say anything like that. He just
told me our light was the bravest light along the
lakes, and that we could keep it. He is going to
tell them in Washington that nobody can tend the
Point light so well as Madame Buteau and Pet-
ronel Buteau."
"We could have told him that all along !" said
Hardy. "It is just because his own folks were
on the boat that he knew how precious the light
can be."
But Petronel shook her head.
"Mother says that love is the light that burns
forever, and if he loved his own folks so, he will
think of the others who were saved too, and
thank our light for it."
And it happened just as she said, for only a
month later, when the big resort had closed for
the season, and the Point began to look bare with
the autumn gales, a long, official letter came from
Washington, with the appointment in it of
Madame Buteau as tender of Point au Manitou
lighthouse. So it said, and justly; but everybody
among the shore people, and on the boats that
saluted as they passed, called it Petronel's light.
ENRAPTURED AUDIENCE: "IT S PERFECTLY WONDERFUL HOW NATURAL
THIS PHONOGRAPH SOUNDS."
Vol. XXXIX.— 113.
THE BALEARIC ISLANDS
BY DR. S. J. FORT
If you will take your atlas and look at the map
of Spain, you will see three islands of different
sizes some distance from the western coast, the
largest being called Majorca, the next largest,
Minorca, and the smallest, Iviza, the entire group
being known as the Balearic Islands. The name
"Balearic" is derived from a Greek word meaning
"the slingers," and was applied from the re-
markable skill shown by the inhabitants in the use
of the sling, at one time the only rival of the
bow and arrow as a missile weapon.
Perhaps you will remember reading in history
that the Spartan boys were early taught to ride,
shoot, and tell the truth, the most severe punish-
ments being meted out to delinquents in these
foundational principles of education. We are
also told that in the early days of the settlement
of our own country, the boy who went hunting
had his bullets counted. If he failed to bring
back game for each bullet expended, there was
an uncomfortable quarter of an hour waiting for
him, if the explanation of the missed shot was
not satisfactory. Even the nursery jingles tell us
that a certain Thomas Tucker was obliged to sing
for his supper.
The island "slingers' " plan went even farther
than this, for they placed the food of their chil-
dren on tall poles, and the inexpert marksman
went hungry if he failed to bring down a meal
with a well-directed stone. These primitive par-
ents did not believe in making hunger a spur to
the attainment of skill and then supplying interme-
diate lunches to the unskilful, so we can well be-
lieve that every boy became expert with his
weapon, and that the fighting strength of the
islanders was thus kept to a high figure of merit,
so high, in fact, that the geographical name of the
group has preserved it for all time.
MR. MOUSE: "PARDON ME, MR. TOAD, BUT DO I SEE YOU WEEPING?"
MR. TOAD: "ALAS, YES ! I SLEPT IN AN ONION BED LAST NIGHT."
PLAYING THE GAME
(A sequel to " The Battle of Base-ball*' )
BY C. H. CLAUDY
Chapter III
THE FINE ART OF FIELDING
Every ball-player has an ambition ; every ball-
player has to avoid digging a pit for himself.
The batter's ambition is a base-hit ; the pit he
would avoid, being struck out. The pitcher's
ambition is a no-hit game; the pits he must not
tumble into are wildness, passing batters, and
allowing hits with men on bases. The fielder's
ambition is to play his game without error or
misplay; his pit, a mistake of judgment or "bone-
head" play, which is far worse than the making
of an error. Errors must happen to the best of
fielders, at times.
In nothing more does the attaining of ambition
show to greater advantage, nor the results of
failing to achieve it look uglier, than in the mak-
ing of any play which results in an "f. c." in the
score as an indication of how a certain runner
attained a certain base. The "fielder's choice"
looks innocent enough. It means that the man
who gets the ball has two or more places to which
he can throw it with the chance of retiring a
runner. He chooses one, and either gets, or does
not get, the runner ; and the runner, going to the
base he did not choose, is safe. But while the
play may be errorless, it may be a misplay, a mis-
take, a "bonehead" play, and the game may be
lost, then and there.
There was, for instance, a fielder's choice in
the last World's Championship game between
New York and the Philadelphia Athletics in
191 1, which, had the fielder made a mistake,
would seriously have affected the score of that
game, perhaps even the series. No mistake was
made, the fielder having perfect judgment in ad-
dition to errorless play; but an inspection of the
diagram will easily show "what might have been."
The final score of the first game, played in
New York, Mathewson pitching against Bender,
was two to one in favor of New York.
With the score one to one in the fifth inning,
Bender, at bat, hit to center, reaching first base
safely. Lord followed him, and hit a sharp
grounder to Merkle, New York's first baseman.
Bender had to run for second, to make place for
Lord. "Matty," like the fine fielding pitcher he
is, covered first base. Merkle could throw either
to first or second base and make- an errorless
play. By throwing to first base, he would get a
sure out, to second base a possible out. But as it
was a force play, that is, one in which the ball
need only beat the runner and does not have to
be "put on him," Merkle took the wise chance,
and threw to Doyle, at second. The ball beat
Bender, who was thus forced out.
HOW MERKLE PLAYED WISELY A
Doyle
fielder's choice.
Lord is at the bat — Bender on first base. Lord hits a grounder to
Merkle. Mathewson covers first base. Bender has to run for second
base. Merkle fields the ball. If he throws to Matty at first, Lord is
a sure out. If he throws to Doyle, who covers second base, he may
get Bender on a force play. It is a fielder's choice. Merkle tries for
the force out, and the ball beats the runner.
That is what actually happened; and no one
thought anything of it. Yet the game may have
hinged on that one play. For Oldring, the next
man up, batted for two bases, and Lord went
from first to third. Had Lord previously been
put out at first, and Bender {who would thus
have been safe) been on second when that two-
base hit was made, he must have scored. That
would have made the score two to one in favor
of Philadelphia ; as New York made a run later,
the score would then have been tied, and nobody
knows who would have won in the end !
A pretty instance of a fielder's choice, which
899
900
PLAYING THE GAME
[Aug.,
resulted in a double play, was seen early in the
1912 season, in a game between the Athletics and
the Washington club, American League. Brown,
a recruit pitcher of the Athletics, was pitching,
and was so unfortunate at one time as to have
the bases full and only one out. The batter
bunted to the pitcher. Brown fielded the ball,
and had the greatest possible number of fielder's
choices open to him, since the ball, fielded to any
base, would retire a runner. But had it been
fielded anywhere else than to home plate, the man
coming in from third would have scored, and
Fig 2
» — ■— » — The Ball
• Player running
HOW THE ATHLETICS TURNED A FIELDER S CHOICE
INTO A DOUBLE PLAY.
Bases full, one out. Batter bunts to pitcher. Pitcher fields ball,
throws to catcher. Runner coming in from third is forced out.
Catcher does n't have to tag him, and throws to first baseman, who
covers the bag, returning the runner who has just batted. Double
play, retires the side; no score. Had pitcher thrown to any other base
for a force out, there would have been a score and but one out on the
play-
there would have been only one out on that play,
or two all together, and a chance for another
score should the next batter hit cleanly. But the
pitcher, in spite of the big lead of the runner
from third, knowing the catcher would not have
to touch the runner, threw "home." Egan, the
catcher, caught the ball, stepped on the plate, and
hurled the ball to Mclnnis, who had run in and
covered first, the ball beating the runner by a hair,
completing a double play, and retiring the side
without a score, simply on a wise fielder's choice !
Note that the diagram shows Collins and
Baker covering their bases, as well as Mclnnis.
They could n't know what Brown was going to
do, and they had to be ready for any play he
might choose to try to make.
You may argue from this that the fielder's
choice should always be to get the leading man
on the paths. It should — if there is a fair chance
to get him ! But to try for the leading man
when the chances are against you is poor play.
The old base-ball truism, "One out is better than
none out," applies here very strongly. Play for
the leading runner if there is a chance of getting
him ; but if there is not, play for the runner you
can get, even if the other man scores. Very
frequently, with a man on first when the batter
lays down a sacrifice, you hear the stands crying
madly, "Second base ! second base !" in a well-
meant endeavor to tell the fielder where to throw
the ball. Then, when he turns and throws to
first base with seemingly plenty of time to throw
to second, the stands cry "Bonehead" at the
player who has made a perfectly correct play.
For he saw, perhaps, even if the spectators did
not, that he would have to wait an instant for
short-stop or second baseman to get in position
to take the throw, and rather than take that
chance, preferred a sure "out" at first.
You can be very sure that had he thrown to
second and the runner beaten the ball, and the
fielder at second thrown too late to first base to
get the other runner, the cries of "Bonehead"
would have been just as loud ! It is sad but true
that, in the mad desire to see the home team win,
the average onlooker has little sense of the possi-
ble in base-ball, or consideration for the player
who does not do the impossible.
With a man on second base and a sacrifice bunt
to be tried, have you ever wondered why the
ball is often laid down the third base line in-
stead of the first? Putting the ball down the
third base line means that the fielder who gets
it — probably the pitcher — must run away from
first base, field the ball, and then take his choice
between throwing it to third base to catch the
runner coming in from second, or making a long
throw to first base. If the former is his choice,
the third baseman must not only catch the ball,
but touch the runner with it before he touches
the bag. As the man on second usually has a
long lead, and as fielding a bunt which seems to
crawl on the ground is often slow work, the
chances are all in the runner's favor, under such
circumstances. Consequently, the ball is usually
fielded to first, because at the initial corner there
is no need of touching the runner ; the ball merely
has to beat him to it to effect a put-out. Hence
the need of bunting down the third base line in-
stead of the first base line; to make the throw
as long as possible, and give the runner as much
time as may be to beat the ball, thug turning the
attempted sacrifice bunt into a hit, and increasing
the chances of a subsequent score.
1012.]
PLAYING THE GAME
901
Lads who play base-ball should make it a rule
to think out in their own minds, swiftly but ac-
curately, just what they will do with the ball if it
comes to them, and before they do it. But this
thinking out should not be to the effect that "If I
get the ball, I will throw to first base for the
runner," because that is a mental command which
may well be obeyed in the excitement of the play,
when the best place for the ball may be else-
where. The making up of one's mind and the
mental command should be entirely different : to
the effect that "a double play is possible, if the
ball is batted so I must run near second to get
it," or, "I '11 field it to first if it 's a bunt I run in
on, but if it 's a ground ball I have to play back
on, I '11 send it to second." Leave yourself a
"fielder's choice" in your mind, but never fail to
calculate before each play what it may be possi-
ble to do, should the ball come your way; and
make these calculations with a full knowledge of
the inning, the score, and the "outs." Often, of
course, there is but one thing to do, in which case
the play is easier. Thus, with a man on third
and less than two out, almost any infield hit
should be fielded "home" rather than to first base, -
because of the more than usual chances of re-
tiring the runner. On the other hand, with two
out and a man on third, almost any infield hit
should, of course, be fielded to first, because the
third out is easier made there than anywhere else,
the runner not having to be touched by the ball.
And if the batter is out at first, the runner on
third cannot score.
The theory and practice of "backing up" is a
part of the game which deserves more serious
attention than it usually receives from amateur
teams. And it is in young teams, where wild
throws, over throws, short throws, and other mis-
plays are more common than in older teams, that
such a necessity exists. The writer knows of one
team of lads, the average age of whom is twelve
years, which cleaned up all the opposing teams
they could get to play with them on this one
feature. Some one had started their captain on
the road to success by convincing him of the
necessity of every player backing up his neigh-
bor, and he had made all his team practise the
stunt so thoroughly that, although his fielders
threw as wildly as their opponents, there was al-
ways a player backing up the man to whom the
ball was thrown; and instead of opposing runners
making two or three bases on a wild throw, they
often made but one, and not always even that.
Such things as runs scoring from failure to
back up are easy to understand. Consider Fig. 3
as an example, taken from a game played between
Chicago and New York last year. There were
runners on first and second bases. Cole put over a
good one, and Murray hit it for a sharp drive
through fair territory between first and second
bases. Saier, first baseman for Chicago, dived
over to get the ball. Tinker covered second base.
Evers, seeing Saier going for the ball, backed
him up. Now, had Saier fielded the ball, he had
Fig. 3.
Tinker,
Short = stop.
HOW EVERS BACKED UP THE FIRST BASEMAN AND
MADE A PUT-OUT AT SECOND.
Runners on first and second. Batter hits the ball midway between
first and second — first baseman goes after ball. Short-stop covers
second, third baseman gets on his base. If first basem?.n fields ball to
second, he probably gets a force out, and if short-stop is a good pivot,
he may make a double play at third. If first baseman misses the ball,
one run is certain, unless second baseman fields ball by backing up first
baseman, when he may get a put-out at second, but, at any rate, holds
the runner at third. He might also get a put-out at first base (not
shown here) if the pitcher covered first base. If second baseman does
not back up first baseman, the ball goes for a hit, and a run is scored —
possibly even two runs.
a fielder's choice between three bases, although
a throw to third would probably have been foolish.
But he had a good chance for a put-out at second,
and a possible double to first or third. Saier,
however, did not get the ball. It struck his hands
and bounded over his head. But it bounded into
Evers's hands. Evers threw to second in time to
get Snodgrass, the out at second was thus made,
and Doyle, on third, did not get a chance to score.
Had Evers not backed Saier up, the ball would
have rolled to right field, and the chances are that
both Snodgrass and Doyle would have scored !
In this play, Evers had nothing else to do.
Saier was fielding the ball, which belonged to
him; Tinker, the short-stop, was covering second
base ; and Cole was on the run to first in case the
play should be made there. Another player might
have said, "Oh, I '11 take a chance. Saier is a
902
PLAYING THE GAME
[Aug.,
good first baseman, a fine fielder. He '11 get the
ball. I will save my strength." And ninety-eight
times out of a hundred, Saier would have fielded
the ball cleanly, if once he got his hands on it.
But this happened to be one of the other two
times. And Evers was right where he belonged,
backing Saier up. He fielded the ball which got
by Saier, made the out at second, prevented one
and perhaps two scores, and held the runner at
third. It is plays of this sort that make Evers
such a famous second baseman !
Now, of course, it is not always possible for
infielders to back each other up on every fielded
ball. The balls come too fast, and there are too
many other things to do. It would be foolish,
indeed, for one player to back up another when
he has work of his own to do in covering a base.
But there are nine men playing a defensive game,
and it is a rare play which engages more than
three or four of them at once (outside of a run-
out between bases), so there is usually some one
so entirely out of a play he must either stand
and watch or put himself in position where, if
anything goes wrong, he will be of some use to
his team. Perhaps only once in a hundred times
will his effort bear fruit, but he has the satis-
faction of knowing that he is playing the game ;
and the hundredth time, when he manages to pull
off the unexpected happening, he will be more
than repaid for the effort he has put into his
many correct but unproductive "backing-up
plays," by the satisfaction of having played the
game as well as it could be played.
Outside of the mere mechanical perfection of
the fielder's work — his ability to "scoop up" balls,
throw from curiously distorted positions, pick up
grounders with unerring accuracy, etc., — the
beauty of playing any infield position lies in its
head-work ; in a knowledge of how to "play the
ball," and what to do with it after you get it.
Often the latter knowledge is easier to come by
than the former. Many a man who has a quick
brain, a fine throwing arm, and a world of ability
in handling the ball after he gets it, fails as an
infielder because he lets the "ball play him," in-
stead of "playing the ball."
"Playing the ball," not letting the "ball play
you," is nothing more than base-ball language for
"going after it." There are times, of course,
when the fielder is lucky if he is able to get hold
of the ball at all. But there are plenty of other
times when he has a great choice as to where he
will meet the ball, whether he will play back and
let the ball come to him on a bound, or run in and
scoop it up before it has a chance to bound more
than once ; and on this decision, occasionally, may
rest the game ! That, too, is one of the beauties
of base-ball: the entire game, at times a cham-
pionship even, may depend, though the player
knows it not, on any play he makes. There never
was a close-score game played which could not
have gone the other way had some one single play
been otherwise accomplished.
Nowhere is this seen more clearly than in the
making of double plays, those spectacular per-
formances in which, with the bases full and one
out, for instance, a most unfavorable situation is
turned to the advantage of the defending team
by two men being retired at once ; or that equally
interesting situation, "two on, none out, and a
Tinker C"A")
HOW TINKER "CUTS IN" ON A BOUNDER AND SAVES
A PRECIOUS HALF-SECOND.
"Tinker to Evers to Chance." This famous double play was
achieved so often that the phrase in the score has become a byword.
One reason why it was so uniformly successful, whether started by
Tinker to Evers, or Evers to Tinker, was that both "played the ball"
— neither let the ball play him/ In the diagram, Tinker runs in on the
ball and cuts off two or three bounds. He saves half a second. Had
he let the ball "play him," and remained at the position "A," both run-
ners would have been safe. As it was, both were out, simply because
Tinker ran in. on the ball and saved that half-second of time.
batting rally starting," which is nipped at the be-
ginning by a double play that cuts off the two
budding runs !
"Tinker to Evers to Chance," the lilting little
line written in the score so many times when the
great Chicago Cubs were winning four pennants
.and three World Championships, was possible,
and became famous, for no other reason than
that Evers and Tinker—as clever a second base-
man and short-stop as ever played the game— are
both like wildcats in their quickness, both alert,
aggressive, and hungry for work, and both past-
masters of the art of "playing the ball."
Consider the diagram in Fig. 4. Devore is on
igi2.]
PLAYING THE GAME
903
first, Snodgrass is at bat. The score is a tie, the
inning the ninth, one out, and one run wins the
game for New York. Snodgrass hits a swift
ground ball which goes leaping and bounding over
the turf. The infield has been playing deep, ex-
pecting a hit-out rather than a bunt. Tinker runs
lightly in, but very swiftly, watching the ball, and
calculating to a nicety just how many times it will
bound, where it will bound, and where he will
meet it. He knows that the least "wobble" will
mean a man on second or third, and still only one
out. What he wants is, "no one on and— every
one out !"
So he cuts in on the ball and saves, perhaps,
half a second. He meets the ball, scoops it up,
and whirls it over to Evers, who has lost no time
getting on second base. The scooped ball is a
little to Evers's right-hand side ; Tinker is an
artist. It is n't too hard for Evers to meet with
both bare hand and glove at once, it is n't so hard
a throw as to make a muff probable, yet it is
swift — for those precious pieces of seconds that
Tinker has saved by "playing the ball" and not
waiting for it to "play him," must be utilized.
Evers, getting the ball on his right side, has no
need to move his arm far; he steps on the bag,
turns his body, and the ball flies straight for
Chance's mit, for Chance has covered first with
the crack of the bat.
Twice the umpire waves a thumb over his
shoulder — "Out — out," he calls, mits are unex-
citedly thrown on the ground, the Cubs come to
bat and have another chance to win, and "Tinker
to Evers to Chance" appears in the box score
under the heading "double play."
Had Tinker waited at A in the diagram for
the ball to come to him, his half-second would
have been lost, Devore would have slid in under
his throw to Evers, and Evers's throw might well
have landed in Chance's mit after Snodgrass had
crossed the bag; and then there would have been
two on and still but one out, and there would
have been no "Tinker to Evers to Chance" in the
box score !
The great Cub machine is not what it once was.
Chance, the "Peerless Leader" has had to retire
from active work, head trouble, due to being hit
by pitched balls, making it impossible for him to
stand the strain and heat of play. Nevertheless,
"Tinker to Evers to Saier" appears reasonably
often in the box score at that. And the Phila-
delphia Athletics, with their stars at short and
second, are establishing a catch-line of their own.
While "Barry to Collins to Mclnnis' lacks the
lilting measure of the older, more famous, line,
it is very much to the point— indeed, "Fletcher to
Doyle to Merkle" is a frequent score phrase !
But whenever such a phrase appears, some one
has "played the ball" mstead of letting it "play
him." Had the first man to get an assist in the
double play waited for the ball, there would have
been no double play to tell about. Hence it be-
hooves all young infielders who study this dia-
gram to study also the multitude of plays of which
it is a type, and learn to judge the bounding ball,
and meet it and play it as soon as it is possible
to do so, never forgetting for an instant that
every second means at least twenty feet for a
tearing base-runner; that a quarter of a second
clipped from the time in which the ball is played
means five feet.
The time has gone by, and long ago, when an
outfielder was merely a human ball-basket and
catapult. Mere ability to catch fly balls, gallop
over the turf and turn drives into outs, and then
line the ball back to the diamond, even, with a
strong throwing arm, to the plate, is not enough.
Nor does adding a batting record of more than
.300 to fielding and throwing ability make a player
into a real outfielder— a Cobb, a Wheat, a Speaker,
a Magee, a Milan, a Clarke, a Lewis, a Schulte.
It takes more than batting, fielding, and throw-
ing to make a real outfielder. It takes a head !
Look at the records of the great outfielders now
playing the game, and you will see just what a
quick brain means in outfielding. Oh, yes, we
must start with Cobb ! The player who led the
world at the bat, in 1911, and his league, in two-
base hits, three-base hits, greatest number of
runs, and most stolen bases, can hardly be men-
tioned second to any other outfielder ! Cobb had
the greatest number of put-outs of all outfielders
in the American League last year. Now there
are other outfielders who are just as sure and
certain judges of fly balls as Cobb— a number
have higher fielding percentages. But Cobb adds
to his speed instant judgment, and a splendid
knowledge of batters; and he got the put-out
record, regardless of the number of games played,
solely op those things— judgment (head-work)
plus speed.
Murphy, of Philadelphia, had the greatest num-
ber of assists: thirty- four for 191 1. Incidentally,
Murphy is captain of the Athletics this year, the
veteran Davis being now manager for Cleveland.
It may be stated that Connie Mack does n't pick
the least brainy of his outfielders for his field
captain !
Milan, of Washington, had thirty-three assists
for the year, and was second only to Cobb in the
number of put-outs he had to his credit — 347.
But Milan's fielding percentage for the year is
the same as that of Cobb, and he was second in
his league in the number of stolen bases, getting
904
PLAYING THE GAME
[Aug.,
a total of fifty-eight, to Cobb's eighty-three.
This comparison is no attempt .to make Milan
seem a rival of Cobb, star player though he is.
The figures are given because it shows that the
two are not so very far apart when it comes to
► The Ball
^-^y* Playecrunnlng
V'f^Kr^-X Player, walking.
Ijt
'^
Cobb was on first, Craw-
ford up, who hit a single to
left center. Milan, the Wash-
ington center-fielder, galloped
over and got the ball, Cobb
turning second and keeping
a good lead toward third.
Milan walked in, and mo-
tioned to throw to third. Cobb
retreated. Milan walked in
a little more, and motioned
to throw to second. Cobb
advanced in his lead. Finally
Milan teased Cobb into mak-
ing a dash for third, but Cobb
had waited too long — Milan
threw, and got his man. The
put-out was credited to the
third baseman and all Milan
got was an assist — but it was
his put-out, really. \nlc
A PRETTY BATTLE OF WITS BETWEEN COBB, AS
BASE-RUNNER, AND MILAN, AS FIELDER.
doing the stunts which require heads as well as
feet and arms, and to lend a point to the base-ball
incident illustrated in Fig. 5. This particular in-
cident, moreover, shows one play in which Cobb
was both outguessed and outplayed— and those in-
cidents, it must be stated, happen but rarely to
the wonderful player generally conceded to be
the equal, if not the superior, of any man who
ever played the game.
Cobb was on first base, Crawford at bat, one
out. It is a bad combination for the team on the
defensive. Crawford has a mighty bat, and
mighty arms, and many, many mighty hits are
stored in both ! The outfielders play deep for
him, usually. This particular day he sent a slash-
ing single to left of center. Milan, center-fielder
for the Washington team, galloped over and
grabbed the ball after a bound or so, and turned
to throw to hold Cobb at second. But he saw that
Cobb had turned second, already taken a lead, and
was facing the outfield. Milan knew what was
going to happen. Cobb was going to "sprint" for
third the instant he, Milan, let the ball go.
So he made a bluff throw. That is, he motioned,
but did n't throw. Cobb laughed, and danced back
a little toward second. His eye is too quick and
his intelligence too keen to be fooled like that.
So Milan inched in and toward left field a little,
and bluffed again, this time toward second base;
and Cobb increased his lead. Four times they
went through this performance, Cobb seeming to
dare Milan to throw to either base, Milan angling
in and toward left field, seeming to dare Cobb to
sprint. Of course Milan could have thrown to
third at any time and thus have made Cobb re-
treat to second or try to beat the ball.
But Milan did n't want to. He is rightly proud
of a throwing arm which has few equals, and
while acknowledging Cobb as a great player, he
did n't exactly feel that his arm should be made a
mock of in that style ! So he held his throw and
angled always in and toward left field. You can
see in the diagram how he did it— he started from
A with the crack of the bat, went to B and got
the ball, then loafed over to E, and finally to F,
while Cobb, who had come from C to D with the
hit, was increasing his lead toward third, going
to G, and finally to H.
And there they stood : the great base-runner al-
most half-way to third; a great outfielder trying
to outguess him. And he did, too ! Cobb was a
little too daring with the throwing arm that Milan
wields. Cobb suddenly started for third, like a
shot. But Milan threw, and the ball beat the
runner, and in the midst of a cloud of dust, little
Kid Elberfeld, at third, was seen jabbing a ball
on the ribs of the famous runner ! Cobb went to
the bench, "out," amid the noisiest demonstration
from the stands ever heard in Washington —
greater than when a game is won !
It was brains that created that contest; brains
which gave Milan thirty-three assists from the
outfield in a year, and brains in Cobb which dares
so great a chance, and "gets away with it" nine
times out of ten. If he always got away with it,
he would n't be human ! That he does it so often
makes him the great player he is.
And the "fine points" of playing the outfield-
far beyond the mere mechanical ability to run,
judge flies, catch them in spite of the handicaps
of wind and sun, to throw cleanly, accurately,
quickly, and strongly— are found in the brains and
the wit, the keenness, of those men whose play-
ing the outfield positions has made them famous.
IQI2.]
PLAYING THE GAME
905
Not only in outguessing the runner, but in
knowledge of the batter and the effect of the
pitch, are outfield brains shown. Cobb's 376 put-
outs in 191 1 came as much from his deep study of
every batter — his knowledge of how they would
be likely to hit each sort of pitched ball, and
where it would most likely be hit — as from his
speed and skill. Study the batters who play
against you ; study your own pitchers and what
they pitch ; learn which man bats an in-curve to
right field and which to left; where he bats out-
• curves and straight balls; and then, knowing what
is to be pitched, place yourself so that the hit, if
made, will be but a single, and the seemingly safe
line drive one of many unexpected and brilliant
outfield put-outs. That, too, is playing the game !
It is not expected that you can emulate all that
Cobb, or Milan, or Wheat, or Speaker does in the
outfield. Neither in mechanical ability, in know-
ledge of the game, or in completeness of knowledge
of batters, can you really compete with men who
make a business of what to you is play. But you
can try steadily to make of your play something
besides mere mechanical brilliance — something
besides a mere catching of the ball and returning
it to the base ahead of the runner. In playing
the outfield, strive to outguess the runner, and
get as many assists to your credit as you can ;
and even if most of them result merely because
the runner tries to stretch a single into a double,
a double into a triple, or a triple into a home run,
now and then will come the chance to outguess
and outwit the batsman, and then you can feel
exultant in the thought that you, too, like Milan
and Cobb, have played the game with brains and
with wit as well as strength and skill.
( To be continued. )
By permission of C. \V. Faulkner & Co., Ltd., London, E. C. England, owners of the copyright.
"THE TUG OF WAR." FROM A PAINTING BY FRED MORGAN.
Vol. XXXIX.-114-115.
THE YOUNG HIGHWAYMAN'S SURPRISE
AHA! HERE 'S WHERE I GET SOME CANDY MIGHTY EASY. HEY THERE, YOUNG FELLER ! '
EH — UH — ER — HOW ARE YER ? '
LIMERICKS
BY MINNIE LEONA UPTON
THE LIMITATIONS OF KNOWLEDGE
A professor, both learned and wise,
Once heaved the profoundest of sighs:
"I am," confessed he,
"Absolutely at sea
On the subject of Gooseberry-Pies!"
NO TALKING SHOP
A schoolma'am of much reputation
In her steamer chair took up her station,
And when asked could she tell
How some word they should spell,
She said, "Yes, but not during vacation !"
906
THE LADY OF THE LANE
BY FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT
Author of " The Forest Castaways "
Chapter XVII
"an old-fashioned Hallowe'en party"
Elizabeth's victory over Miss Winthrop was the
talk of the school on Monday morning, but, before
noon, she had furnished them with another topic
for discussion, when she announced that she in-
tended to forfeit her game with Miss Currier, a
player very much inferior to Miss Winthrop. To
all the questions excitedly asked of her, she only
smiled and shook her head. But Nance knew the
reason, and heartily disapproved of it. She her-
self had won her first game easily, and it was
conceded that she would have no more difficulty
with her next opponent than Elizabeth would
have with Miss Currier. This, of course, would
bring them into the finals against each other.
"You ought n't to drop out," protested Nance.
"It 's like giving me the championship, and
there 's no fun getting it that way."
"I can't help it, Nance," Elizabeth answered,
determinedly. "I 'd feel just as badly beating
you as I would being beaten by you, and that 's
all there is to it !"
"I don't think it 's quite sportsmanlike,"
frowned Nance.
"Perhaps it is n't," Elizabeth agreed readily.
"But it 's a fact."
She placed her arm coaxingly around her
chum's shoulder.
"Don't be vexed, Nance," she pleaded. "I
have n't played much, you know, and so when I
play, I play with all my might. It seemed cruel to
force Miss Winthrop when she was all tired out.
I 'd never forgive myself if I played you that
way, and it would n't be tennis any other way,
would it?"
"No," admitted Nance.
"Then let 's not talk any more about it."
"All right," agreed Nance with a smile. "We
won't."
And she did n't, but, on the following Satur-
day, she did not appear on the courts, and so lost
her own set by forfeit.
"What 's the matter with you two girls, any-
way?" demanded Roy, when he next met them.
"Some day we 're going to play off the match
in private," answered Elizabeth.
"Oh, I see— and you '11 let me umpire?"
"No, sir!" laughed Elizabeth. "There won't
be a single soul to watch us, not even you !"
During the next few weeks the school became
about evenly divided between one group, center-
ing around Elizabeth and Nance, and a second
group which hovered around the Brookfield girls.
Elizabeth herself, however, was far too busy, be-
tween her school and home duties, to give much
thought to this.
Mrs. Trumbull had feared at first that Elizabeth,
once back in her old circle, would lose interest in
her home, but the direct contrary seemed to be the
fact. The more she was out of the little house by
the lane, the keener was her delight in returning
to it. She went about her tasks with renewed
zeal. Though Mrs. Trumbull, under the circum-
stances, thought it might be too heavy a burden
for Elizabeth to carry, the latter refused to shirk
a single duty. She was up as early as usual, and
prepared the breakfast. Upon her return from
school, Mrs. Trumbull had luncheon ready for
her, but Elizabeth insisted upon preparing dinner
and on devoting Saturday forenoon to setting the
house in order.
"It would n't seem like my home if I did n't,"
said Elizabeth, when Mrs. Trumbull expressed
concern lest the work be too much for her.
"Well, I must say you don't make much fuss
about it," Mrs. Trumbull replied resignedly.
So late October came. The trees, after their
harlequin carnival of the past few weeks, stood
shivering beneath the cold fall blasts. The
ground was strewn with leaves which fluttered
and rustled about, like whispering children. In the
garden a few dry corn-stalks and a clutter of
frost-bitten pea-vines were all that were left after
the garnering of the crops. Except the golden
pumpkins. Those stood out like miniature suns
warming the whole desolate tract. But in the
cellar of the little house by the lane were full
bins and barrels, and shelf upon shelf of tightly
sealed jars.
And now, with these harvest tasks completed,
Elizabeth was ready to put into effect a plan that
had been in her mind ever since school opened.
"I want to give a housewarming," she an-
nounced to Mrs. Trumbull. "I think that, for
some reason, half the girls are afraid to call here,
and so I 'm going to invite them all, and intro-
duce them to my home."
"Who cares whether they come or not?" de-
manded Mrs. Trumbull.
"Oh," laughed Elizabeth, "I want them. I 'd
908
THE LADY OF THE LANE
like this to be a sort of gathering place for all my
friends."
"Well, it would be a good way to find out who
are your friends and who are n't, anyway," de-
clared Mrs. Trumbull.
"I don't even care about that," answered Eliza-
beth. "I 'm friends with all of them, whether
they are with me or not. I thought Hallowe'en
would be a good time to begin."
"So it would," agreed Mrs. Trumbull. "Your
mother always had a party on Hallowe'en."
That afternoon Roy dropped in and Elizabeth
told him of her plan.
"Fine !" he exclaimed. "This is just the place
for a Hallowe'en party. You can't have a real
one in an apartment-house, any more than you
can have a real Thanksgiving in the city."
"I may have to call upon you to help me," she
hinted.
"I 'd like nothing better," he answered.
"Then I '11 make out a list right away, and per-
haps you and Nance can help me address the en-
velops."
"I don't star as a penman," he answered. "But
I '11 stick the stamps for you."
A few days later, Roy, Nance, and Elizabeth
were seated at their task in the sitting-room.
Elizabeth had included in her list all her boy
friends, and many that Roy had suggested, as
well as all the girls in school of her own age. As
Roy came to the names of the Brookfield girls,
he scowled.
"I suppose you had to ask them," he said.
"Yes," she answered with a laugh. "Really, I
don't want to quarrel with any one, Roy, and I
thought that if they came and had a good time—"
"Supposing they don't come?" he demanded.
"Oh, I 'm sure they '11 come if only to make
fun," answered Elizabeth.
"They 've no business to do that," he growled.
"Well, they have n't done it yet," returned
Elizabeth, good-naturedly. "We must n't scold
them beforehand."
"I 'm afraid of their tricks," said Roy. "They
are so clever about such things that you never
know what they '11 be up to next."
"I 'm not afraid of them," answered Elizabeth.
"And I do hope they will come and have a good
time."
"They would n't admit they had a good time if
they came," answered Roy.
He would n't have expressed his opinion to any
one else, but he was as frank with Elizabeth as
with his mother. He had met the two girls only
a few days before, and they had suggested that
some one ought to arrange a Hallowe'en party.
He had hinted then, as broadly as he dared, that
Elizabeth had something of the sort in mind. He
had n't liked the expression in Helen's eyes as he
told her this. It had left him with the feeling
that he would have done better not even to have
hinted. With this in mind, he tossed back to
Elizabeth the envelop intended for Jane and
Helen.
"Will you please address this?" he said briefly.
When he left that afternoon, he took all the in-
vitations with him, and mailed them at the post-
office. In the evening Mr. Churchill came over
from "The Towers," and Elizabeth told him more
fully her plans, of which he had already ap-
proved.
"I want to make it just like one of Mother's
parties," she confided to him. "So now I want
you to tell me everything you two used to do on
Hallowe'en."
Elizabeth brought her chair closer to him so
that she could rest her head upon his shoulder.
He placed his arm about her. Mrs. Trumbull sat
sewing on the other side of the fire. The setting
was just as it was twenty years before. When
he began to speak, it was with the worry of half
a dozen business problems still teasing his brain,
but as he went on, these were all forgotten. They
were forgotten as they used to be in those days
when business was always of secondary interest
to the house by the lane and the home for which
it stood. Then it was life and peace and happi-
ness which counted most, and an event like one
of these parties was to be remembered, even in
the face of his biggest schemes for the getting of
a fortune. So he sat for an hour telling of the
decorations and the games and the people, until
Elizabeth felt as though she herself had been one
of the former guests.
"Oh, Daddy!" she exclaimed when he had fin-
ished, "I wish I had been there, too."
He patted her head.
"It does n't do much good to wish for impos-
sibilities," put in Mrs. Trumbull.
"No," agreed Mr. Churchill.
"And I say we ought to be planning for the
party to come."
"Right !" nodded Mr. Churchill. "For the
party to come will soon be the party that is gone,
and we must have pleasant memories of that too."
Elizabeth sat up.
"My party is all planned," she declared. "I 'm
going -to have everything just as Mother had it."
"Now that is n't a bad idea," said Mrs. Trum-
bull, looking up from her sewing.
"But I shall need you to help me, Daddy."
"I '11 do what I can," he agreed.
"Then— let me see. To-day is Tuesday, and
the thirty-first comes on Saturday. Will you
H.^
I "M
AiA
/
'//
■7
ELIZABETH'S NOVEL HALLOWEEN PARTY, (see page 911.
909
910
THE LADY OF THE LANE
[Aug.,
come home early, so that I may have you the
whole afternoon?"
He hesitated.
"I 'm afraid—" he began.
"Daddy," she broke in, "you know I shall need
you to hang all the high things."
"There 's Martin," he suggested.
"I shall need you— you and no one but you,"
she pleaded.
Still he hesitated, for he had at least one im-
portant business engagement for that afternoon,
but, as he lifted his eyes, he caught in Mrs.
Trumbull's glance a worried look that decided
him.
"All right !" he submitted, "I '11 be here at two
o'clock."
Elizabeth sprang to her feet.
"Now," she declared, "I 'm sure my party will
be a success !"
But the next morning, Elizabeth received in the
mail a little square envelop that took away her
breath. On the surface it was inoffensive
enough, but reading between the lines, it
sounded like a declaration of war. It read as
follows :
The Misses Brookfield desire the honor of Miss Eliza-
beth Churchill's company on Hallowe'en, October thirty-
first, at eight o'clock.
R. S. V. P. 3 Apthwaite Court.
The Misses Brookfield must have received her
own invitation that very morning. To be sure,
this conflict might have been accidental, but
something made Elizabeth recall Roy's words of
warning. And whether accidental or not, this
made a very embarrassing situation. There was
no doubt but that both had invited about the
same people. They had many friends in common,
both at Miss Grimshawe's and at Roy's school.
The two invitations would reach the same people
at the same time, and this would leave them noth-
ing to do but choose.
Elizabeth hurried into the kitchen with the let-
ter and showed it to Mrs. Trumbull. The latter
adjusted her steel-bowed spectacles and read it
through.
"Well !" she exclaimed. "Of all the mean
tricks I ever heard of, this is the worst !"
"But we don't know for sure that it is a trick,"
Elizabeth protested charitably, though with her
heart in her boots.
"Of course it 's a trick," answered Mrs. Trum-
bull, impatiently. "You wait until Roy sees this !"
"I suppose it means that I 'd better give up my
party," faltered Elizabeth.
"Huh ?" demanded Mrs. Trumbull, making her-
self as straight as a ramrod.
"I suppose—"
"Don't you suppose nothing of the kind," Mrs.
Trumbull broke in. "We '11 have this party if
every one else in the city gives one the same
night ! We 're sure of three, anyway."
"Who?" asked Elizabeth.
"Roy Thornton, Nance, and your dad. They
are worth more than all the rest of them put to-
gether."
"Perhaps— perhaps Roy won't come," sug-
gested Elizabeth.
"He won't, eh?" exclaimed Mrs. Trumbull.
"Well, I 'd be willing to stake my life he will !"
That night Elizabeth received five regrets— all
from her girl friends. But the next morning she
received as many acceptances, and these, oddly
enough, were all from boys. On Friday came
more regrets and more acceptances, again di-
vided as before. Elizabeth was mystified, but she
went on with her preparations with as good a
heart as possible. Friday, after school, both she
and Mrs. Trumbull were busy in the kitchen, mak-
ing cake and doughnuts and pumpkin-pies. In
addition to this, Elizabeth made fudge and walnut
creams. Martin had plenty to do cracking nuts
and hollowing out the pumpkins, cutting eyes,
noses, and mouths in them, and preparing the
candles. From the beginning, Mrs. Trumbull had
insisted that if this was to be an old-fashioned
Hallowe'en party, everything must be made at
home. Mr. Churchill had suggested that the chef
be allowed to make some of the pastry, but Mrs.
Trumbull would n't listen a minute to that.
"No, siree !" she said. "This is going to be an
American party, and my notion of an American
party is where you put something of yourself
into it."
"If I might make so bold as to say so, that 's
an English party, too," observed Martin.
Elizabeth had very good luck with her candy.
The fudge was smooth and firm, while the creams
were every whit as good as any she could have
bought in town. So was the cake, for that mat-
ter, and the caramel frosting would melt in your
mouth.
Elizabeth received a note that day from Roy,
saying that, with the foot-ball team and his
studies, he would n't be able to come over and
help, and that Saturday he was to play.
"I 'd ask you to come to the game," he con-
cluded, "but I know you '11 "be too busy. The
whole team is looking forward to the party, and
I 'm coming over early Saturday evening to help
you with the finishing touches. Hooray for you !"
The whole team ! Elizabeth was still pretty
much confused as to what was going on about the
two gatherings. So far, not a girl had accepted,
1*912.]
THE LADY OF THE LANE
911
while every boy she had asked had written his
enthusiastic thanks. She was too busy to worry
much about this, but it certainly looked queer.
The next afternoon her father, true to his
promise, appeared shortly before two o'clock,
ready for work. She pinned a blue apron over
his business suit, to make him feel that he really
had a great deal to do, and then ordered him to
sit down while she and Martin festooned the win-
dows with long strips of yellow paper.
"What I want you to do, Daddy," she ex-
plained, with an airy wave of her hand, "is to
sort of oversee things."
"Look here," he protested, "I want to do more
than that !"
"Then," she permitted, "you may hold the ham-
mer and tacks."
But that did not suit him either, and in less
than a minute, he was mounting the step-ladder
and doing the actual work, while she herself was
overseeing the job, and Martin was holding the
tacks. They draped the windows with the yellow
paper, and ran it all around the room. From this
they suspended long strips which reached to the
floor. The idea was to produce the color effect
of an autumn corn-field, and, to make it more
real, Martin brought in several large stacks of
the dried corn-stalks, which were placed in the
corners. In each of the front windows one of the
hollowed out pumpkins was placed ready for the
lighted candles. The orchestra contributed by
Mr. Churchill as his share was to be half con-
cealed in a recess.
The dining-room was decorated in much the
same fashion as the front room, the dishes
brought out, and the sandwiches made. Every
one was as busy as possible until it was time to
dress for the evening. And no one was happier
in the work than Mr. Churchill himself.
When Elizabeth came down-stairs, Roy was
waiting for her with a box of jonquils. She tucked
one of these in her hair, and wore the others at
her waist. She looked like a young and very
charming goddess of the harvest.
"I came early to see what I could do," said Roy.
"And— and— I suppose you know the Brookfield
girls are giving a party to-night."
"Yes," answered Elizabeth, with a smile, "I re-
ceived an invitation."
"So did I. So did all the boys."
"So did all the girls," added Elizabeth.
"I know it. But— well, you wait and see what
happens."
"I know one thing that will happen," answered
Elizabeth, good-naturedly, "I 'm afraid the boys
who come here won't have many dance partners."
"So?" grinned Roy. "I '11 bet my hat that the
girls at the Brookfield party won't either."
"Roy," exclaimed Elizabeth, "I hope you did n't
do anything to make the boys come here !"
"Make them ?" returned Roy. "You could n't
have kept them away !"
Just at this moment, Nance arrived, and fifteen
minutes later, promptly at eight o'clock, the door-
bell rang, and' Martin, proud in his old regalia of
"The Towers," swung open the front door. Not
one boy, but sixteen, filed in like a well-drilled
regiment. In greeting her guests and in present-
ing them to Nance, Elizabeth found her hands
full, and, these preliminaries over, the party ran
itself. Never did boys have a better time, and,
for that matter, never did Elizabeth. She felt
like a queen in the midst of her court. It seemed
as though each boy vied with the others in his at-
tentions to Nance and herself. For an hour, all
struggled strenuously for the honors of the va-
rious Hallowe'en contests, and then the floor was
cleared for the dance. Seven of the boys bound
their arms with handkerchiefs and danced as girls.
Roy led the grand march with Elizabeth, Gran-
don, the little quarter-back, seized Mrs. Trum-
bull and insisted that she follow as his partner,
while Sears came after with Nance. The sport
waxed merrier and merrier from that moment on.
Two-steps, waltzes, quadrilles, and Virginia reels
followed in quick succession. Mrs. Trumbull had
not danced so much in thirty years, but no boy
would be satisfied until he had had her, as well as
Elizabeth and Nance, for a partner. In the midst
of the gaiety Mr. Churchill himself appeared, and
joined in as though no older than the others.
When it came to the spread, every member of
the foot-ball team— and they were there to a man
—broke training. Doughnuts, pie, and cake van-
ished as though by magic ; sandwiches appeared
only to disappear; and as for Elizabeth's candy,
it melted like snowflakes before the sun.
It was eleven o'clock before the merriment
ceased, and the boys reluctantly took their de-
parture, vowing they had never had a better time
in all their lives. They filed out in a body, and,
as the door closed behind them, Elizabeth threw
her arms about her father's neck.
"Oh, Daddy !" she cried, "it was a success !"
"Hark !" he answered.
Sharp as the crack of a machine-gun the school
yell rang out in the night air, ending with :
"Miss Churchill! Miss Churchill! Miss
Churchill ! She 's all right !"
"Who 's all right?" demanded Grandon.
"Elizabeth Churchill!" came the enthusiastic
answer from seventeen strong young throats.
( To be continued. )
POINT ROCK
BY FRANK STICK
The river winds around
the base of the cliffs in
a big curve that incloses
several miles of pine and
hard-wood forest in a
sort- of gigantic horse-
shoe. When seen from
the foot of a wide-
spreading white oak just
above Point Rock, it re-
sembles the practical
omen of good luck to
such an extent that the
natives thereabouts have
given this particular part
of the river the name of
Horse-Shoe Bend.
The oak that capped
the bluff marked a fa-
vorite rendezvous for a
boy and a dog I knew in
my golden days, who,
when tired with ram-
bling over hill and down
dale in search of squir-
rels and other' small
game, sought a suitable
spot at which to enjoy the
well-earned luncheon.
There was never any
regular hour for lunch-
ing—no twelve o'clock
whistles or schoolhouse
bell to be obeyed. If he
was hungry the boy was
wont to argue that there
was mighty little chance of a fellow's seeing
game during the heat of the day— which might
mean almost any hour between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m.
Many times, too, his decision to stop for lunch
was due to the boy's thinking he noticed a hungry
expression on the face of Bob, the dog. This
fancy may have possessed a solid foundation, for
beneath the love that existed between boy and
dog, there had developed an understanding which
is often lost about the time business or college
takes the foremost place in a boy's thoughts.
A few rods below the oak, a cold, clear spring
bubbles up into a little rock-rimmed basin and
from there falls in a succession of tiny cas-
cades to the river. This spring was one of the
many attractions of the point, and you may be
sure the boy never neglected to refresh himself
with its grateful coolness, ere he dipped into the
satisfying substantials contained in the lunch-bag.
He always lingered for a time after eating,
lying flat on his back, hands clasped under his
head, feasting his eyes in their turn on the loved
stretch of country below him. Every curve in
the river, every grove and each tiny break in the
timber became imprinted on his mind and pos-
sessed for him some secret individuality. Many
of the rocks and trees were landmarks of events
in his excursions in hunting or angling— the
lightning-gashed trunk of the beech tree, where,
one evening in early autumn, Uncle Lou's coon
hounds had treed a lynx ; the crooked cedar that
marked the dens of those wily old foxes who de-
fied his trapping knowledge for several winters.
Almost directly below were Wild Cat Rapids—
the head of a pool from which he had enticed
many a sizable bass and channel-cat. And some
distance down the river Baily's Falls glinted in
the sunlight and sent their many voices up to
him, there on the point.
The picture he saw from his perch beneath the
oak never grew tiresomej because the tones and
colors of it were ever varying. It changed not
only with the seasons, which marked a huge dif-
ference, of course, but also with the days. There
were cloudy days when all the landscape was
grayed and simplified. Days of sunlight when
the hills and opens seemed to throb and pulsate,
and only the shadowed valleys and the point were
cool. Sometimes he saw huge cloud-shadows
sliding over his picture, and could almost feel
them when they enveloped his tree. Now and
then it stormed. Dark clouds would hurry up
from the horizon, and soon there would come a
veil of rain like a heavy gray cloud, pressing
down the tree-tops and ruffling the peaceful
river as it approached. There were outcropping
rocks close at hand which made capital shelters,
so the rain bothered him not one whit.
Mostly, though, there was the sun.
It is n't at all strange that the bigness and
sweetness of this bit of "God's out-of-doors"
should have impressed itself so deeply on his
boyish mind that it influenced his grown-up life
even to his innermost thoughts, and his days were
the happier and his deeds the bigger and better
because he had known this influence.
Sometimes I think it were good if every boy
might learn the path to a Point Rock.
'AT THE FOOT OF THE WIDE-SPREADING WHITE OAK.'
913
UNCLE JOHN AND HIS HORSELESS
CARRIAGE
BY MARIAN PHELPS
v ■
From photograph by R. S. Patterson.
UNCLE JOHN'S DOG TEAM STOPPING FOR A REST.
This old darky and his team of dogs were once a
familiar sight to the residents of Nashville, Ten-
nessee, but they never failed to call a crowd of
interested spectators. The old fellow was as
proud of his horseless carriage as if he were the
owner of the finest touring-car in the country, and
he paraded the streets with as much joy as the
most finished artist in the ranks of the chauffeurs.
He had his faithful dogs in good training, us-
ing neither reins nor whip, but guiding them by
a word of command. He had only to say "Start !"
and off they went at a "dog-trot" ; "Stop !" and
they came to an immediate halt ; a motion of his
hand, and they swung around a corner as deftly as
the swiftest little runabout. Usually he had eight
dogs in harness and three outrunners, but occa-
sionally the whole eleven were in the traces, and
a pretty sight they made. Not only did they lend
picturesqueness and interest to the streets of
Nashville, but the lesson of patience and love and
fidelity taught by this humble old colored man and
his cheerful little servants was one that lingered
in the hearts of all who knew them. Sometimes
they were out on a pleasure trip, as seen in the
accompanying photograph, but more often we saw
them with a little delivery cart, for Uncle John
earned his living with these canine friends of his.
Once he was asked if they were not more ex-
pensive than one good horse would be, and he
replied : "Law, child ! dey don' cos' me nuffin'.
De man what Ah buys mah p'ovisions f'om, he
gives me meat foh de dawgs."
Though Uncle John has emancipated his teamof
dogs and now drives a mule, several of his canine
friends still live and follow him on his daily rounds ;
while in the hearts of Nashville's young people,
and, indeed, of many who are no longer young,
lives the memory of the happy, noisy little fellows
who barked their joyful greetings in merry oppo-
sition to the "Honk, Honk," of the motor horn.
914
A TEAM OF OSTRICHES
BY LAWRENCE W. NEFF
From the time when the oldest books of the Old
Testament were written, and doubtless long be-
fore that time, the ostrich and some of its pecu-
liar habits have been more or less familiar to
dwellers in those portions of the earth where the
human race appears to have had its earliest home.
The writer of the Book of Job speaks of the
ostrich, and there are several other references in
the books of law and prophecy. Even before their
era the rich and flowing plumes plucked from the
wings of these great birds were in demand for
the adornment of the dusky Oriental queens, so
that parties of expert hunters went on long and
dangerous journeys to the desert to procure them.
It remained for enterprising Americans to
bring the ostrich-plumes to our very doors by
bringing the ostriches themselves. Thus it came
to pass that farms for growing them were estab-
lished at various places in California and Arizona
where climatic conditions were generally similar
to those of their native haunts— the great deserts
of western Asia and northern Africa. At these
ostrich farms there are several thousands of the
adult and young birds, and the proper care of
them has been reduced to a science as well as an
industry.
None but very fleet horses can overtake the
ostrich upon the desert. His strength enables him
to carry a man upon his back and yet travel with
remarkable speed. Upon a few occasions there
have been exhibition races between a horse and
an ostrich, each hitched to a racing sulky, and
honors were usually divided. Yet it must be con-
fessed that the ostrich is not strictly suitable for
driving purposes. His stride at full speed is a
trifle over twenty feet, and this is not at all con-
ducive to the comfort of the driver; still less so
when two are hitched together and are careless
in the matter of keeping step. Of course a spe-
cial set of harness is required to meet the needs
of the case, but, as will be seen, this difficulty
was overcome in a satisfactory manner. It is a
strange spectacle to witness these gigantic birds,
eight feet in height, trotting complacently along
the highway and obeying the will of the driver
as if they were to the manner born.
THE TOWNSEND TWINS — CAMP DIRECTORS
BY WARREN L. ELDRED
Chapter XII
COUSIN WILLIE SEES A GHOST
After the excitement which had attended the first
few days at Beaver Camp, the boys were not sorry
to have a period of calm, with no sensational de-
velopments to interfere with the quiet enjoyment
of camp life.
On Sunday evening, they went up to Mrs.
Spencer's and had an informal service of song
about her piano, Tad and his mandolin joining in
with the others.
Monday found them at work on the athletic
field. This plot never would be ideal, but each
day's efforts made it a little better, and Lefty
hoped to commence base-ball practice by the end
of the week.
Wednesday was clear and cool, so the boys
attacked the athletic field again, and talked hope-
fully of arranging games with their neighbors.
Wednesday evening brought the first really
startling experience of the week. It was Cousin
Willie's turn to bring the drinking-water for the
camp, so, when the others had gathered about the
fire, he set off along the familiar path to the
spring.
His courage was stronger than in days past,
and he had grown somewhat accustomed to
prowling around in the dark, so he took the lan-
tern and pail and started on his way without any
conscious shrinking from the unknown perils of
the night.
Once within the shadow of the woods, however,
he had to acknowledge a feeling of sudden fright.
Something in front of him and a little to the right
claimed his fascinated attention. It was tall— at
least two feet taller than a man— and white. The
formless whiteness seemed to slip in and out
among the trees in a manner truly spectral, and
the boy was sure that the figure drew nearer to
him.
He rallied his rapidly waning courage, and
tried to persuade himself that it was foolish to
believe in the existence of ghosts. He even at-
tempted to convince himself that the terrifying
object was only a blanket which one of the camp-
ers had hung up in a tree and forgotten to re-
move. Still his knees trembled uncomfortably,
and his teeth chattered. The report that the camp
was haunted came freshly to his mind, and this
increased his alarm. Had the ghost of Beaver
Camp arrived for one of its reported visits?
He turned to retrace his steps, but just then a
new and very reasonable idea occurred to him.
Perhaps one of the campers, knowing that he
must pass along that path after dark, had draped
a ghostlike figure and placed it there to test his
courage.
.Well, he would just convince his companions
that he had as much grit as any of them. It re-
quired heroic effort to turn about, pick up the
pail, and walk resolutely forward, but his will
power had been stimulated lately, and he forced
himself to continue on to the spring.
He filled the pail with water and started back,
a little astonished at his own "nerve," but thank-
ful that every step would bring him nearer the
camp-fire. Hurrying as fast as he could with his
burden, he reached the clearing beyond the woods,
and approached the boys grouped about the big
fire.
"There 's a ghost in the woods," he remarked
casually, as if such visitors were quite usual.
"A what?"
"A ghost. We heard that the camp was
haunted, you know, and it looks as if one of the
ghosts had come back to see who 's here."
"It 's probably a stray cow."
"No, it is n't, Eliot. Really ! It was about
eight feet tall, and white, and it had long arms,
sort of stretched out."
"Wow ! I 'm glad I did n't meet it, kid ! Where
was it ?"
"Not far from the spring— off in the woods."
In spite of his effort to appear unconcerned, the
boys could not help noticing that Cousin Willie
had been frightened. They wondered what appa-
rition had confronted him in the dark, silent
woods.
"Shall we go forth and dare him to mortal com-
bat?" Tom asked.
"Ghosts are not supposed to be mortal, you
know," his brother suggested. "That makes it
extremely hard to carry on any kind of combat
with one. Of course I am ready to draw my
sword in defense of Beaver Camp, but — er —
had n't we better wait until the ghost comes out
on the beach ? There 's so much more space
here, and the light 's better, not to say—"
"Oh, look !" gasped Charlie. "There comes the
ghost !"
"Two of 'em!" added Jack, excitedly. "What
spooky things ! They must be fully eight feet tall,
just as Bill said !"
THEY WERE NOT REASSURING OBJECTS TO BEHOLD IN A DARK SPOT."
9'7
918
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[Aug.,
There could be no doubt about it ! The ghosts
of Beaver Camp really had arrived. Of course
science and sense asserted that such things did
not and could not exist. Yet one could not doubt
what his eyes actually beheld, philosophical state-
ments to the contrary notwithstanding.
Nor were the boys asleep, and merely imagin-
ing, as part of a dream, the existence of the spec-
ters. On the contrary, they were unusually
wide-awake just now ! Too greatly bewildered
and startled to talk much, all had risen, and now
they stood watching with a sort of hypnotic fas-
cination the slow, impressive progress of the
specters.
Each was fully eight feet tall. The heads were
invisible except for the eyes, which glowed with
a kind of phosphorescent brilliance. The long
arms of the ghosts were extended, and occa-
sionally these moved as if beckoning to the boys.
Loose white draperies fluttered about the figures,
and, taking them altogether, they were not re-
assuring objects to behold in a dark spot.
"There are only two of 'em !" Lefty muttered.
"Let 's rush 'em ! Come on ! When I count
three, all yell like pirates, and run right at 'em.
One— two— three !"
A series of war-whoops which would have done
credit to a tribe of Comanche Indians smote the
stillness of the night. Then the boys rushed for-
ward, Doctor Halsey with them.
The ghosts must have felt alarmed, for they
halted, swayed unsteadily for a few seconds, then
pitched forward, falling flat upon the ground.
Behind each ghost stood a mortal.
This was a surprise to the boys, and their wild
rush came to an abrupt stop.
Then one of the mortals addressed the doctor.
"Good evening, Doctor. Pleasant evening after
a fine day, is n't it ?"
"We thought it would be neighborly to call,"
the other added, "and we brought the family
with us."
"Well, of all things !" gasped the astonished
Doctor Halsey. "Where did you two fellows
drop from?"
"Why, we are boarding with one of your neigh-
bors, Samuelson by name, and it occurred to us
that our call might be more impressive if we
brought our friends along."
"It surely was impressive, not to say spec-
tacular," laughed the doctor.
Then he explained to the boys that these two
young men were classmates of his in the medical
school. He had not realized how near together
they would be during vacation days, although he
had known of their intention to spend the sum-
mer vacation along the shores of Lake Champlain.
Tad walked over to Lefty, and said in a low
tone : "These are the fellows who eyed us so
sharply when we were on our shopping trip. Re-
member ?"
And Lefty nodded vigorously.
The "ghosts" proved to be nothing more than
several yards of sheeting draped on poles, with
heads rudely formed and features marked on the
cloth. The poles were so arranged that the
"arms" could be manipulated by one who stood
behind them.
The Beaver Campers were duly introduced to
the two young men, Franklin Storer and Paul
Rutledge by name, and the whole party went back
to the camp-fire to improve their acquaintance.
"We called here more than a week ago," Storer
explained; "but you had n't arrived."
"So you made yourselves at home, and carried
our things out into the woods," the doctor sug-
gested.
"Well, we thought it would be so much healthier
and more comfortable for them out-of-doors,"
Storer explained with an air of guileless inno-
cence. "It seemed very warm and stuffy in your
bungalow. We really took a great deal of trouble
for your sakes. Some of those things were a
trifle weighty."
"We noticed it when we put them back," the
doctor observed. "How did you get in?"
"Oh, your kind and obliging neighbor had left
the keys under a piece of carpet laid before your
hospitable door. Also he had so published the
fact that all visitors should know it."
"I suppose you put up the sign of welcome
down by the landing!"
"Yes. Rather an artistic effort, we thought.
Harmonized well with the scenery. Did n't you
think so?"
"Oh, yes ! Anything artistic appeals strongly
to us. I suppose we must thank you for our
feline visitor, too."
"Oh, do not thank us !" Storer begged mod-
estly. "We did not do it for the sake of praise.
The wandering minstrel appeared without expla-
nation or excuse upon our porch, and we shared
our blessing with you."
"For which we thank you!" Doctor Halsey
said, smilingly.
Then, with the assistance of the boys, he told
the two visitors of the numerous and varied ex-
periences which had kept their camp life from
becoming dull and monotonous.
"Well, I should say your first week had been a
trifle strenuous," Rutledge observed. "Don't you
feel now like taking the rest cure?"
"It 's so restful to get out into the country,"
said Storer. "The little birds sing blithely—"
igi2.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
919
"That 's right !" Doctor Halsey agreed with
enthusiasm. "The little birds sing so blithely in
the trees that you wake up at four o'clock and
can't get another wink of sleep. The bees go
humming and buzzing around your head until you
are driven into frenzy. Hens cackle and roosters
crow whenever you want to take a nap. The
fleecy clouds, drifting across the sky, suddenly
roll around and work up into a thunder-shower
when you 're five miles from shelter. The soft
summer zephyrs hit you in the back of the neck,
and give you a cold that hangs on all winter. The
highways are so dusty that you could n't see a
wild flower if it did grow. Generally there 's
nothing to be seen but burdocks. All kinds of
creeping, crawling, flying things assault you, wak-
ing or sleeping. Oh, there 's nothing like life in
the country— if a person is strong enough to
stand it !"
"Pessimist !" Storer howled. "Barbarian ! You
have n't any poetic imagination."
After a time, the two visitors declared that they
must leave, because late hours were not consid-
ered fashionable at their summer resort.
The Beaver Campers walked with them part of
the way, and, on their return, they decided that
the two young men would prove lively and most
agreeable neighbors, whose presence and partici-
pation would add much to certain plans for the
future which already were being discussed.
Chapter XIII
BEAVER CAMP VS. NORTH RUTLAND
By the end of the week, Beaver Camp had an
athletic field. True, it left much to be desired,
but it provided a base-ball diamond, marked out
with infinite pains according to official measure-
ments, so the boys felt repaid for their hard work.
Lefty, being a veteran player, was by general
consent invited to captain the camp team, and he
undertook the difficult and delicate work of get-
ting out of each camper the best playing of which
he was capable.
Some of the boys had played on teams at home,
others had but little experience and less skill. All
were willing to work hard, however, and this was
the most encouraging development of the first
day's practice.
Franklin Storer and his friend Rutledge walked
up and helped Captain Lefty with numerous sug-
gestions and criticisms. Doctor Halsey, too,
dropped a valuable hint now and then, although
he declared that base-ball was not his specialty,
but that if they would play foot-ball, he might
help them in a way worth talking about.
Whenever any of the campers visited North
Rutland, he found the natives eager to cross bats
with them, so it was arranged, after a little time,
that a series of three games should be played :
one at North Rutland, one at Beaver Camp, and
the deciding game, if one was necessary, at North
Rutland.
Storer consented to umpire the contests, and
Rutledge agreed to act as official scorekeeper.
One bright, warm Monday afternoon, the
Beaver Campers, equipped with all the base-ball
supplies that their combined resources could fur-
nish, journeyed over to the village to meet their
opponents in the first game of the series.
Before play commenced, Umpire Storer made
a speech to the members of the competing teams
and the small group of spectators, promising to
award a stick of peppermint candy to each mem-
ber of the team that should win the series. This
excited general merriment, and seemed to inspire
each player with a desire to secure the prize.
Beaver Camp went to bat, and the North Rut-
land players took their places. The natives were
strong, sunbronzed fellows, who seemed able to
give good accounts of themselves in any sort of
athletic contest.
"Play ball !" cried the umpire.
The North Rutland pitcher wound himself up
like an alarm-clock, and sent over a ball that cut
the plate squarely in two. Strike one !
"Some speed !" Tad muttered from the bench.
"Wonder if he can last."
"Sure thing !" Edgar replied. "He looks
stronger than an elephant."
In the meantime, Charlie had struck out, and
Lefty faced the rival pitcher, smiling confidently,
but feeling decidedly uncertain as to results.
After two strikes had been called, Lefty found the
ball for a high in-field fly that was caught easily,
and he joined his companions on the bench.
"Good start !" he observed with a cheerful
grin. "I see six runs coming to us this inning."
"That 's more than any one else sees," Jack re-
sponded, as he picked up his glove. Eliot had
been retired, on a grounder to short.
Lefty walked over to the box, and the first
batter for North Rutland selected a favorite bat,
and faced him with an air of jaunty confidence.
Lefty twisted himself into kinks, then suddenly
straightened out and shot the ball over. Almost
immediately a sharp crack followed, and the ball
sailed out, out, out— some distance beyond the
most remote out-fielder. Edgar reached it after
it fell, and relayed it back, holding the runner at
third. Here he cautiously took a lead toward
home, while Lefty watched him, trying, mean-
while, to recover from the shock he had received
from the opening number on the program.
920
THE TOWNSEND TWINS — CAMP DIRECTORS
[Aug.,
The second man fouled twice in his anxiety to
bring in a run, ending his performance by strik-
ing out. Lefty felt better.
The North Rutland captain had been talking in
a low tone to the next bat-
ter, and Lefty wondered
what sort of plot they were
arranging. He tried a wide
ball, but the man was not
tempted. A strike was
called next. Then the bat-
ter met the ball fairly, and
it went speeding into deep
right field.
Jack got under it, catch-
ing it as it fell, but threw
wide to Tad, who had run
out to relay it back, and the
man on third went home.
The next man hit a clean
single, but was put out try-
ing to steal second, and the
inning ended with the score
one to nothing, in favor of
North Rutland.
The second inning added
another run to the score,
while Beaver Camp was
awarded a second goose-
egg-
Lefty improved in the
third, and the North Rut-
land men were unable to
hit him safely. In the
fourth, fifth, and sixth, also,
neither team scored.
In their half of the sev-
enth, it looked as if Beaver
Camp would tie the score.
Walter reached first on a
well-placed drive, and stole
second. Jack knocked out
a long, swift grounder be-
tween first and second, but
it was fielded neatly, and
Tom, on the coaching line,
held Walter at third. Then
a wide ball passed the
catcher, and Walter came
The North Rutland boys cheered their oppo-
nents with hearty good-will, and the campers re-
sponded with, perhaps, a little less noise, as
befitted a cheer that marked no victory but
rf
m:
home, with another run.
This ended their scoring,
however, for Charlie's bunt put him out at first,
Lefty knocked a high foul that was caught, and
Eliot struck out.
North Rutland scored again in their half of the
seventh, but in the last two innings, the ball did
not get beyond second— nor did a runner.
THE SECOND BASEMAN ALREADY WAS RUNNING TOWARD THE BARN.
that was merely a complimentary expression of
proper spirit from a losing but determined team.
"We had to let them win the first game, you
know, just to encourage them," Lefty observed,
as they walked back to camp. "It would n't have
been polite to wallop 'em the first time. Wait till
I9I2-]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
921
they strike our polished diamond. Then you '11
see the sparks fly !"
"The two teams are rather evenly matched, I
should say," Storer remarked. "Those fellows
have played together longer than you have, and
they hit harder. You 'd better have a lot of bat-
ting practice before the second game."
The next few days were improved by the camp-
ers in developing the batting and fielding skill of
the team, while Lefty and Bert spent an hour or
more in daily battery practice.
When the North Rutland boys reached the
camp diamond, Lefty's team felt able to handle •
them, though fully conscious of the strength and
skill of their opponents, and having sufficient re-
spect for these qualities to prevent over-confi-
dence.
The Beaver Campers found it easier to hit the
North Rutland pitcher during the second game.
Somehow his delivery was not as puzzling after
one became familiar with it, and by the end of the
sixth inning, the campers had three runs.
Lefty was steadier than he had been in the first
game. During the first six innings, he permitted
only two men to walk, and struck out eight. Long
drives were not as frequent as they had been be-
fore, and the two that went far beyond the infield
were fielded perfectly, and came at times when
the bases were unoccupied. A hit, a passed ball,
a stolen base, and a well-placed sacrifice netted
a run for North Rutland in the second, and this
was their only tally, to the end of the sixth inning.
"If we can hold 'em down now for three more
licks, we 're all right," Lefty said to Tom, as they
walked out on the diamond to begin the seventh.
"Our fellows certainly are giving me fine sup-
port."
"Yes, and they 're hitting better, too," Tom
replied. "I hope we can get another run or two.
Our lead is n't big enough to make me feel safe."
The weak end of the batting list came up now,
and Lefty struck out the first two men, while the
third put up a little fly that Tom caught without
undue exertion.
In the second half, Bert got a single, and Tom
attempted a sacrifice which third fumbled clum-
sily in picking up. Tom, by a narrow margin,
was safe on first, with Bert on second, and none
out.
The pitcher eyed them sharply as they took
cautious leads, but Charlie at bat and Eliot on
deck were weak in stick work, and he decided to
get rid of them before he did anything else.
As he swung around to deliver the ball, Bert
and Tom both started down the base line, running
as if the Forty Thieves were after them. At the
same time, Charlie swung viciously at the ball,
Vol. XXXIX.- i 16.
and the best the catcher could do was to smother
it on the ground. He picked it up with all speed,
and threw it to third, but Bert already was slid-
ing, and reached the base an instant before the
ball touched the baseman's glove.
Charlie struck out, but Eliot, without trying
for such a result, managed to send the ball tear-
ing along the ground just beyond the reach of
first, who sprang to the right and stooped quickly
to stop it.
Tom was almost to third by the time the ball
struck the ground, and he quickly followed Bert
across the plate.
A snappy double play ended the scoring, but
five to one was not a bad lead, and hope reigned
among the champions of Beaver Camp.
North Rutland scored again in the eighth, and
had two men on bases in the ninth, when the last
man went out on strikes. Beaver Camp added
nothing to its tally, so the final score was five to
two, in favor of the campers. Perhaps this is the
reason why the cheers of the camp team were so
much louder and more enthusiastic than they had
been after the previous game.
"I feel more cheerful about my prospects of
getting that peppermint stick," Tad remarked
complacently, "but there are one or two weak
spots that we '11 have to brace up before the final
game."
Bert nodded, and mentioned several points
where the team appeared to need greater strength.
Hard work and plenty of enthusiasm marked
the interval before the final game, and Beaver
Camp fared forth to North Rutland on the day
appointed, prepared alike to battle for victory or
to resist defeat, if such an outcome threatened.
Lefty was in his best form, and the team gave
him splendid support. Likewise, the North Rut-
land pitcher seemed almost invincible, and flaw-
less fielding kept the bases clear. At the end of
the seventh inning, not a run had been scored by
either team.
Edgar opened the eighth with one of the best
hits of the game — a long, hard drive over cen-
ter's head. This brought him to second.
Jack followed with a hot grounder that slipped
between second's legs as he ducked to stop it, and
Edgar went on to third.
Just as Tad stepped into the batter's box, the
second baseman cried out in alarm, and pointed
across the diamond.
The games at North Rutland were played on a
level field just outside the village. Less than a
hundred yards behind third base was a large red
barn. Other buildings were grouped about it, but
the barn itself was nearest the diamond.
Now, as the boys looked in the direction indi-
922
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[Aug.,
cated, they were startled to see a thin column of
smoke rising from the building.
The second baseman already was running to-
ward the barn, and the others quickly followed.
Edgar and Jack hesitated until Storer beckoned
for them to come. Then they, too, rushed to the
rescue of the property.
The soft south breeze blowing through the rear
windows forced the smoke out of the wide open
doors. One side of the barn was almost com-
pletely filled with a great pile of hay, the top of
which reached nearly to the roof timbers. The
other side was empty, save for a small pile of old"
hay left from the previous summer. This was
stacked on the floor, and now it was smoking and
smoldering in a manner most alarming.
The campers feared that it might break into a
blaze at any moment and set fire to the great pile
of new, dry hay. In this case, nothing could save
the barn.
"Smother the fire !" one of the natives cried.
"Don't spread the hay out and let the air get in,
or the whole place '11 be afire!"
The boys crowded about and began to beat the
hay with bats and anything else near at hand,
while two of the natives ran across to the stable
for blankets.
Fortunately, a trough filled with water was in
the barn-yard, and it required but a few minutes
to. find two heavy blankets, saturate them with
water, and return to the fire.
These wet blankets were thrown upon the pile
of smoking hay, and, thus protected, the boys
dragged it out into the barn-yard, using the pitch-
forks and rakes which stood in a corner of the
barn.
Once well outside the building, they could
breathe more freely, for all danger was now past.
They were careful to beat out the flames when-
ever a burning wisp fell from the pile, and some
of the boys remained on guard within the barn to
watch for signs of fire breaking out elsewhere,
while the others scattered the hay around the
yard, where the fire quickly burned itself out.
In the midst of the excitement, the owner of
the premises drove up with another load of hay.
He was almost overcome when he found the
volunteer fire-fighters at work, and learned of the
loss which he so narrowly had escaped.
He rushed inside the barn to assure himself of
its safety, but, except for the smell of smoke and
the charred floor timbers, there was no evidence
of the danger which had menaced the building.
He explained to them, after he had somewhat
recovered from the shock, that the old hay had
been taken out of the mow that afternoon and
stacked in the rear of- the barn, in order that the
new crop might be stored. In some way which
he could not explain, a fire must have started in-
side the pile.
Of course he appreciated the valuable aid
which the boys had rendered, and assured them
many times of his earnest gratitude.
There was nothing more to be done, so the boys
went back to the interrupted game. By mutual
consent, Edgar and Jack resumed their places on
third and on first bases, respectively, Tad went to
bat, and the first half of the eighth inning was
continued, with none out.
The pitcher had not recovered from his excite-
ment, so he gave Tad his base on balls, and then
each base was filled.
Bert's long fly was caught, but Edgar dashed
home, sliding to the plate in a cloud of dust just
as the ball landed in the catcher's mit.
"Safe !" cried the umpire, who had run in to
see the play at close range.
Jack went on to third during the excitement,
but seemed likely to stay there, for Lefty's at-
tempted sacrifice was snapped up so quickly that
he was driven back to third. Lefty was out at
first, making the second out.
Things brightened when Tom brought Jack
home with a well-placed single, but here the scor-
ing ended, for the next man struck out.
Lefty allowed but two hits when North Rut-
land went to bat, and neither produced a run, so
the ninth inning opened with a score of two to
nothing, in favor of Beaver Camp.
The final round proved rather tame. The boys
were tired, hot, and excited, not only as a result
of the game, but partly on account of the unex-
pected interruption.
Beaver Camp failed to hit the ball safely in the
final round, and was forced to be content with a
total of two runs for the game.
This proved sufficiently large, however, for one
of their opponents struck out, another hit to sec-
ond, and the third went out on a short grounder.
The two teams separated, with the friendliest
feelings, after a complimentary exchange of
cheers.
Chapter XIV
THE CIRCUS COMES TO TOWN
"That man ought to be thankful we played to-
day," Tom remarked, looking over toward the
red barn. "If no one had been on the field, his
barn would be ashes now."
"And nearly an entire crop of hay, too," Eliot
added. "I 'm glad we could save it. The loss
would be as bad for him as a store with a stock of
goods for a man in that kind of business."
"I wonder what set it afire," Walter suggested.
igi2.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
923
"Spontaneous combustion, most likely," Lefty
explained glibly.
"How did it spontaneously combust, Professor
Lefty?" Tad asked respectfully.
"Well, the hay had been stored in a cool, dark
corner, and when it was moved, naturally the
motion made it warm. The hay that was put
down first had all the rest piled on top of it, and
you know how hot that would be. By and by it
was so hot that it commenced to blaze, but the
hay near it was all in a perspiration, and this
moisture kept the fire from spreading."
"Fine !" Tad murmured. "Science is a wonder-
ful thing !"
"Mr. Farmer had a pipe in his pocket," Storer
remarked. "I don't suppose he actually smoked
in the barn, but he may have dropped a match in
the hay or knocked the hot ashes from his pipe
on the floor, and piled the hay on top."
"He '11 be more careful in the future, I 'm
thinking," Jack ventured. "A barn is worth a
good bit more than a smoke."
Then they discussed the game just ended,
happy in the fact that victory had perched upon
their banners, and feeling satisfied that they had
fairly earned it.
The next morning, Tad visited North Rutland
and came back in a state of mild excitement.
"Great doings !" he announced exultantly.
"The circus is coming to town !"
"Hooray !" Jack cried. "We '11 all have to go
— just to take Cousin Willie. He '11 want to see
the circus, most likely, and it won't do for him to
go alone. The rest of us simply will have to
sacrifice ourselves for his sake, whether we want
to or not !"
"When is it coming, Tad, and where?" Tom
inquired.
"A week from Friday it '11 be over at Westport."
"That is well ! We also will be over at West-
port a week from Friday."
"I 've never been to a circus in the country,"
Edgar remarked. "It must be great !"
"If it 's half as wonderful as the posters make
out, it 's worth going miles to see. They have
trained elephants, tight-rope walkers, chariot
races like the one in 'Ben Hur,' trapeze perform-
ers who stand on their heads and wave a flag in
mid-air—"
"I suppose there '11 be a parade," Bert interrupted.
Tad nodded. "About ten miles long, I should
judge from the pictures. Elephants, camels, wild
animals in cages, all kinds of chariots and band
wagons, Columbia and Uncle Sam on a float,
brave men and be-oo-tiful ladies mounted on
prancing steeds, dressed in bright red coats — "
"What? Prancing steeds in bright red coats?
How odd !"
"Yes, and silk hats," Tad went on, unmindful
of the interruption. "Clowns on donkeys, clowns
in pony carts, clowns in disguise, and clowns in the
parade— oh, it 's going to be a wonderful show !"
"Well, that 's something to look forward to,"
Jack laughed. "It '11 be a lot of fun to go to a
circus up here. There 's so much that you
would n't get in the city."
The Beaver Campers talked much of the circus
during the days that intervened. Mrs. Spencer
yielded to the persuasions of her daughters and
nieces, and agreed to go with them, while Storer
and Rutledge immediately declared their inten-
tion of joining the party. Others from North
Rutland were planning to be present. The circus
spirit pervaded the atmosphere, and it became ap-
parent as the days passed that farmers would
leave their crops, and storekeepers their mer-
chandise; that busy housewives would forsake
cooking, mending, and all domestic cares in order
to enjoy the "colossal aggregation of unparalleled
wonders."
The Beaver Campers were making plans for a
picnic luncheon, at which Mrs. Spencer and the
girls would be their guests, as would Storer and
Rutledge. Indeed, it had become quite the usual
thing to include these jolly student friends of
Doctor Halsey's whenever anything of especial
interest was being planned.
They expected to leave camp in the middle of
the forenoon, cross the lake, see the parade, eat
luncheon in some pleasant spot, and have a long
afternoon in which to enjoy the circus perform-
ance.
( To be continued. )
THE LADY-BIRD— A FOLK CHARM
Lady-bird of scarlet gown,
Fly away to Lanark town !
Over mountain, moor, and fell,
Over pool and running well,
Over corn and over lea,
Over river, lake, and sea,
Fly you East or fly you West,
Fly to him that loves me best !
Arthur Guiterman.
POLLY'S INHERITANCE
BY EDNA PAYSON BRETT
"That 's your great-grandmother, Polly, that
you were named for," said Uncle Eben, a few
days after Polly's arrival at the farm for her
summer vacation, and he pointed to a quaint old
portrait hanging on the parlor wall. "Mary Lee
Pritchard," he continued, "a beautiful name and
a great inheritance. What makes folks call you
Polly, I wonder ?"
Polly stood gazing, fascinated by the bright
face of Great-grandmother in her pretty ball
dress, as she had looked before she became a
pioneer missionary's wife. Many a thrilling tale
had she heard of Mary Pritchard and her en-
counters with the Indians, but never before had
Polly beheld her likeness.
Uncle Eben was looking intently from Polly to
the portrait. "I believe, Mother," he said, turn-
ing to Aunt Eliza, "that Polly favors Grand-
mother Pritchard; and what 's more, I think she
is going to be like her, too."
Polly's eyes shone, but only for a moment.
Alas ! Uncle Eben did not know what a coward
she was, or he 'd never talk like that. How could
she ever be like Mary Pritchard when she was
scared to death just at the dark !
But Uncle Eben went right on : "Only give
Polly a chance, I say, and she will prove herself
worthy of her noble name." And from Polly's
heart went up a prayer that this prophecy might
some day come true.
A few days later, Uncle Eben received a letter
announcing the death of an aged aunt.
"The funeral 's to-morrow, Eliza," he said; "we
must certainly go, but what about Polly?"
Aunt Eliza shook her head. "It 's altogether
too much of a journey for her. Martha 's coming
to iron to-morrow at noon, and she could stay
until we get home. I fear it will be pretty dull,
though, for our little city girl."
"Oh, no," cried Polly, cheerfully, "I don't mind
staying with Martha at all!" And so it was ar-
ranged.
The next morning, promptly at eleven o'clock,
Uncle Eben drove the buggy to the door.
"Now, Polly," admonished Aunt Eliza in part-
ing, "Martha '11 be along directly. Remember,
child, you 're not to touch a lamp. If anything
happens that we don't get home before dark,
Martha will light up for you ; and oh, one thing
more : I left my best lilac dress by the attic cham-
ber window to get the smell of camphor out be-
fore the minister's reception. If a shower should
come up, be sure, dear, that the window is closed,"
she concluded, giving Polly a farewell kiss.
"All right, I won't forget," answered Polly, as
they drove away.
Polly turned quickly into the house. "I 'm
going to wash the dishes myself," she said glee-
fully ; and donning one of Aunt Eliza's big
aprons, set to work at the cups and saucers left
from the hurried lunch. When these were done,
she looked at the clock.
"Ten minutes of twelve; most time for Martha !
I '11 go out and meet her."
But no Martha was in sight. Polly climbed the
stone wall inclosing the adjacent orchard and
peered in both directions. The noon whistles
sounded faintly from the distance.
"Queer !" mused Polly, after a while ; "she
must have stayed for dinner. I guess I 'd better
stop watching and go to doing something. Let
me see, I '11 work on Clarabel's dress first."
Down to the apple-tree Polly carried the pink
muslin and Clarabel, and was soon busy at doll
dressmaking.
By and by, a ragged little black boy came shuf-
fling into the yard.
"Ma ain't coming," he announced solemnly ;
"baby 's sick." And turning on his heels, he was
off again.
Polly stared after him helplessly. Martha not
coming ! The house could not be left, and no one
would come near her until Hiram brought home
the cows !
"Whatever shall I do, Clarabel !" and Polly sat
down to think it over.
"I know !" she cried at length. "I '11 play I am
Great-grandmother, and, Clarabel, you are little
Miranda that I am sewing for while Great-grand-
father is away." So Polly hemmed and stitched,
and before she knew it, the dress was done.
"Now I will read my fairy tales," she said, "and
I can pretend they 're 'Pilgrim's Progress.' " And
Polly became so absorbed that she forgot to look
up again until Hiram came in with the cows. She
welcomed him joyously, and followed him about
as he did the chores.
"Folks will be along pretty quick, I reckon," he
said cheerfully, when he was about to go. "Are n't
scared, are you ?"
"N-no," answered Polly, trying hard to be
brave and honest at the same time, but she had to
fight to keep back the tears as she saw Hiram go
down the road in the direction of his home.
924
POLLY'S INHERITANCE
925
Then she gave herself a little slap— "Polly
Pritchard ! have you forgotten who you are?"
and she stole into the house straight to the parlor
to Great-grandmother's portrait. With hands
clasped tight behind her, Polly looked beseech-
ingly at the beautiful face on the wall.
_2"PPimeke FiiWrXOrioXc
'OH, DEAR GREAT-GRANDMOTHER, SHE WHISPERED,
'I 'M AWFULLY LONESOME.'"
"Oh, dear Great-grandmother," she whispered,
"I 'm awfully lonesome, and they may not get
home before dark; but I am trying to be brave
like you !" Then Polly felt better and started
for the kitchen, saying: "I '11 set the table now,
so everything will be ready when they come."
The dishes all on, Polly went out on the steps
to wait. No signs of the buggy yet ! Gradually
the sun sank behind the hills and the twilight
deepened. No stars appeared, but gloomy black
clouds began to spread over the sky.
"Oh," shuddered Polly, "it 's getting dreadfully
dark ! why don't they come !" But she tried to
keep up her spirits by saying over all the pieces
she had learned at school, and the Bible verses
Mother had taught her.
Darker and darker it grew. Suddenly a rain-
drop fell splash on Polly's nose ; then another.
Polly started. "Oh," she groaned, "Aunt Eliza's
lilac dress in the attic chamber ! and I promised
if it rained, I 'd shut the window. But I can't !
I can't go up into the dark attic alone. I just
can't !" she wailed.
She strained her ears for the sound of the ap-
proaching wheels, but in vain. The raindrops
were coming in earnest now. Polly rose reso-
lutely to her feet.
"Polly Pritchard," she said, addressing herself
sternly, "were n't you hoping for a chance to be
brave? And now it 's come !"
"Ye-es," said her timid self, "but I did n't mean
this kind of a chance ; I did n't mean the dark !"
"Do you suppose Mary Pritchard prayed for
Indians?" again spoke the other self. "But when
they came, you know what she did."
"But I promised not to light the lamps, and how
can I go in the dark?"
"You can, Polly Pritchard, and you must!"
With a prayer for strength, Polly went quickly
into the house and fumbled for the stairway.
Half-way up the first flight she faltered. "Per-
haps if I should sing, I would n't hear the boards
creak so," she thought. She opened her mouth,
but at first no sound came ; and when it did, it
was so faint and shaky that it frightened her
more than the creak. But Polly persisted, and by
the time she reached the dreaded attic, the tune
came out victorious.
It was but a step to the front chamber now.
She dared not stop to think, or to pause in her
singing, but, entering the open door, she groped
her way across to the window. She was just in
time, the rain was beating against the sill. It was
but a moment's work to find the spring, and down
came the window with a bang that resounded like
a cannon through the still house.
Polly turned. She longed to run, but, steady-
ing herself, she continued her singing with re-
newed vigor, and began to feel her way down-
stairs again.
"What can be the matter? Where is Polly?"
at that very moment cried Aunt Eliza, in alarm,
926
POLLY'S INHERITANCE
as Uncle Eben drove into the yard and they saw
no lights. Jumping from the buggy, they ran into
the dark kitchen. Uncle Eben struck a match.
"No Polly here!" he exclaimed in dismay— "but
what 's that ?"
From somewhere aloft came a childish voice
singing, at first faint in the distance, but as it
grew nearer, swelling out triumphantly :
"Onward Christian soldiers,
Marching as to war."
"It 's Polly !" gasped Uncle Eben.
Polly's singing suddenly ceased. She had rec-
ognized the familiar voices, and, with a cry of
joy, rushed to Aunt Eliza, who exclaimed: "Polly,
Polly, what is the matter?"
"Oh, Aunt Eliza, Martha did n't come ! and I
promised to shut the attic window, and not to
touch the lamps, and I prayed for a chance to be
brave, so I had to do it; but oh, it was awfully
dark ! and — " Polly's overstrained nerves gave
way, and she began to sob.
"Poor little girl !" cried Aunt Eliza, "I would n't
have had you do it for all I possess !"
"Plucky little woman, I say !" exclaimed Uncle
Eben, "and I am proud of you ! Mother, this is
Polly no longer, but brave Mary Lee Pritchard,
from this time forth."
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TflftB«>£|UkesrU)Tiljkfc "J_
^ -_•-<-- -—^^
THE OLD CITY OF KHARTUM.
CHARLES GEORGE GORDON
(A biographical sketch for older boys and girls*)
BY HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG
Twenty-seven years ago, Charles Gordon disap-
peared into the waste Sudan. To-day his monu-
ment in St. Paul's in London is still covered the
year round with the bunches of flowers left there
by his admirers. From a purely material stand-
point, Gordon accomplished practically nothing;
and yet it is on his monument that the flowers are
laid, and not on the near-by tomb of the victor of
Waterloo. What is the reason of this ? Why is
Gordon held in such high honor? It must be
what he was, rather than what he did, that ap-
peals to his countrymen.
The Gordons are an old Scotch race whose
name crops up on nearly every page of England's
troubled history. We see Gordons leading in the
front rank of war, from the earliest, misty ages,
down to the times of the latest and most illus-
trious representative of the race — Charles George
Gordon, who was born January 28, 1833. He was
the son of William Gordon, a lieutenant-general
in the British army, who was himself the veteran
of many wars.
We know little of the early life of Gordon, for
unless a man early become famous, his boyhood
is soon forgotten ; and Gordon was almost un-
known in his own land till after middle life.
After training in an academy at Woolwich, he
first put on Her Majesty's uniform in 1852, when
he obtained his commission as second lieutenant
of engineers. Two years later, young Gordon
was twenty-one years of age, and truly it was a
good time for a young soldier to be beginning life.
The long-smoldering embers of war had at last
broken into flame, and Great Britain and her
allies were driven into a conflict with Russia.
1 (See Editorial
In December of that year, Gordon was ordered
off to the Crimea on his first active service. Dur-
ing the ensuing months, we see him lying day
after day in the trenches before Sebastopol,
while the long siege went on. When the war had
dragged itself to an end, he hurried home for a
short rest, but was soon ordered off again, this
time to China.
This empire seemed then to be the most her-
metically sealed of all countries against any out-
side influences, but here it was that Gordon laid
the foundations for fame. Within the sphere of
his influence he stamped out, as best he could
alone, the opium trade, that curse of the East, all
the time thwarted on every hand by the English
government itself, which derived too much reve-
nue from this drug to have the traffic in it for-
bidden. After England's affairs were settled,
Gordon, now a major, applied for leave of ab-
sence. This was willingly granted, for the offi-
cials were worried by the stand for justice and
humanity that the young army officer had taken.
However, Gordon did not go home for his
well-earned holiday. The Emperor of China gave
him command of all his troops. These, by skilful
manceuvering and undaunted zeal, he led to vic-
tory over the savage Tai-ping hordes, which,
sweeping down from Mongolia, threatened mo-
mentarily to overwhelm the whole of China. And
he won for himself the name of "Chinese Gor-
don," by which he is so widely known. Some say
that Gordon saved this great empire. This is,
perhaps, exaggerated, for the huge Empire of
China is not lost or saved in a day. What he did
do was to show the few who noticed, that he was,
Notes, page 958.)
927
928
CHARLES GEORGE GORDON
[Aug.,
indeed, a leader among men, a master hand; but,
above all, a gentleman, and one well worthy to
bear the name of Gordon, which means, in the
Celtic tongue, a "spear."
As far as promotion goes, he had done well
enough in these four years of service. His own
army advanced him until he held the rank of
lieutenant-colonel, and he left China after indig-
nantly refusing a large sum of money offered by
the emperor. He only accepted a massive gold
medal, which was presented in return for his
brilliant work in suppressing the Tai-ping rebel-
lion. This same medal he anonymously gave to
charity when he arrived home.
Looking at Gordon in this light of his absolute
indifference to material gain, and his faith in
God, is it a wonder that the Chinese regarded
him as a hero? But on the strength of these very
characteristics, some of his countrymen branded
him as a madman !
When he got back to England, he was ap-
pointed to a post at Gravesend. Here he had
much time to himself, which he devoted to light-
ening the misery that he saw around him. He
worked simply and quietly for the poor, helping
here a starving widow, and there starting some
street-urchin on a new path as a sailor. As was
said by Sir William Butler: "Absolutely without
parallel in our modern life, Gordon stands out
the foremost man of action of our time. No
gloomy faith, no exalted sense of self-confidence
— but a faith which was a living, moving, genial
reality, growing as the years rolled on."
In February, 1874, Gordon accepted the office
of Governor-General of the Equatorial Provinces
in Africa.
This was a difficult post. For one thousand one
hundred miles straight south from Cairo, the conti-
nent is naught but red, hazy desert and dead, rain-
less wastes, broken only by occasional gray sand-
stone hills, and the narrow belt of the Nile. Then
the character of the country changes. A dark, damp
vegetation succeeds the ever-shifting sands. This
is the true Sudan, the Province of the Equator,
the land of the blacks and of slave-dealers, of
meandering rivers fringed with papyrus reeds,
the land of unconquered pestilence and fever. As
the ivory is almost all gone, only one export re-
mains—slaves; and this is a never-ceasing source
of revenue.
Slavery in Africa is due to two causes : the
external demand in the Mohammedan countries,
which is now happily decreasing, and the natural
state of savage warfare among the negroes of the
dark interior. It is good in only one light : where
there is a slave trade, the captives are sold ;
where there is no trade, they are always slain.
Gordon arrived at Khartum, on the Upper Nile,
in March, the hottest season of the year. But he
did not delay there. With his usual celerity, he
hurried off to Gondokoro, the capital of his prov-
ince. During these days of travel, the misery of
the land and the immensity of his task became
apparent to him.
When at last he established himself at Gondo-
koro, the real work began : "learning the customs
of the blacks; getting wind of the slave-dealers;
organizing the so-called soldiers; establishing
forts" ; and, in addition, helping, as best he could,
the miserable creatures with whom he came in
contact. Seven eighths of the population are
slaves. Imagine the intrepidity of the man that
could write from the depths of this forsaken
land : "I have a conviction that, God willing, I
shall do much for this country. The main point is
to be just and straightforward, to fear no one
and no one's saying, to avoid all twisting, even if
you lose by it, and be hard to all if they do not
obey you."
Gordon moved like a whirlwind all over the
land, now striking at slavery in Shaka, and a
week later relieving the famine in far-distant
Zeila, on the shores of the Red Sea.
But the old Mohammedan kingdom of Darfur
was the chief seat of slavery, one of the bases of
supply, and thither Gordon soon turned the head
of his swift camel. The desert tracts over which
he had to travel were almost always strewed with
human skulls. Here, indeed, was a tangible evi-
dence of incalculable misery. They were all the
skulls of slaves who had perished while being
driven to some Turkish market. It was always
easier for the robbers to let a few of their slave-
captives die off than to feed them properly. Gor-
don covered the country from end to end, continu-
ally fighting. At last he arranged to meet the chief
slave-kings at Dara. Here he arrived, entirely
alone, after an eighty-five-mile ride across the
desert. The escort was far behind. "Imagine to
yourself," he says, "a single, dirty, red-faced man
on a camel, ornamented with flies, arriving in the
divan all of a sudden." The chiefs were amazed
at his daring, and, after much arguing, they were
made to disband their followers and return home.
It is a striking fact that Gordon never carried
any arms whatsoever, except a light bamboo
cane; but that cane became a power in Africa.
Now, what was all this labor for? What was
the result of Gordon's untiring zeal? It is only
too true to say that it was of no use ! One man
could not reform in a day the life of a continent.
Gordon is like a star falling across the sky of
Africa. The darkness of slavery, revolt, brigand-
age, and massacre closes in sullenly behind.
IQI2.]
CHARLES GEORGE GORDON
929
For some time, Gordon had fully made up his
mind to leave the equator, and his resignation was
finally accepted by the khedive with evident re-
gret. When he resigned, there was no one left
to carry on the work he had so well begun, and
the vast region he had so nearly wrested from
the slave-robbers was once more allowed to fall
within their grasp.
When he was back at Cairo, the intrigues and
petty double-dealings of the authorities were evi-
dent to Gordon. His just and impartial rule had
From photograph by the London Stereoscopic Company.
By permission of George Routledge & Sons.
GENERAL CHARLES GEORGE GORDON.
been disconcerting to the corrupt officials of
Egypt, and they were glad to get rid of him. He
was despondent over the wrongs he could not
right. Thwarted on all sides by his enemies, he
wrote : "Every one laughs at me, but I do not
care. I am much worn, and I wish I had my rest ;
but it will not come till I have done His work. I
am at war with every one in Cairo — and my crest
is a thistle."
At London his reception was worse than cold.
His telegrams were distorted and cut, and then,
with their new meaning, put in the papers. Only
abroad was his ability recognized. The king of
the Belgians offered him immense inducements
to enter his service, but his own government,
Vol. XXXIX. -i 17.
although outwardly rebuffing him, would not let
him resign.
Gordon soon tired of inaction, and was pre-
vailed upon to accept the position of confidential
secretary to Lord Ripon, the new governor of
India. But again he was so disgusted with the
way things were managed there, that he resigned,
and hastened to China, in response to an impera-
tive telegram from the emperor. China was on
the verge of war with Russia. Gordon, with his
usual far-sightedness, showed them the folly of
attempting to fight, and persuaded them to settle
the matter peaceably. Here General Gordon
shows his good sense, for China was entirely
unprepared for war, and Russia would probably
have made short work with her. After serving in
Mauritius and as commandant-general of the
Cape Government, Gordon took a short rest.
Where did he go ? He carried out a long-cher-
ished desire to visit the Holy Land.
In 1883, England's influence was in a precari-
ous position in Egypt. Her troops had been de-
feated, her allies were in open revolt, her prestige
was gone, and the country was bankrupt. All the
Arab sheiks had rallied around the standard of a
false prophet, who claimed to be the Mahdi, or
Messiah, foretold of old by Mohammed. He an-
nounced that it was his mission to free Islam
from all her foreign enemies, and to once more
establish the primitive faith. This was the con-
dition into which the Sudan had drifted during
Gordon's absence. It was due to deliberate
neglect of his warnings. Gordon had repeatedly
said that a suppression of the slave trade, unac-
companied by a firm system of government, must
lead to future troubles.
And it did !
At this crisis, the British Cabinet decided to
call upon the one man in the whole Empire of
England who had this Sudan at his finger-tips.
Late, indeed, it was to think of Gordon, but, put-
ting aside all his personal feelings, he accepted
the difficult role for which he had been cast. He
was to withdraw the Egyptian garrisons, sever
the Sudan from Egypt, and set up some sort of
strong native rule among the wild dervish allies.
In a word, he was to evacuate the country abso-
lutely without bloodshed, almost single-handed,
and practically without support from home !
The ministers began by giving Gordon the full-
est authority and freedom to do as he saw fit.
This was really the only way of accomplishing
their plans. But this was too simple for those
statesmen ! As usual, he was hampered by the
self-confidence of the meddling officials, who, in-
stead of allowing him a free hand, began to issue
fresh orders before he was half-way to Egypt.
930
CHARLES GEORGE GORDON
[Aug.,
At the time of Gordon's departure, a prominent
magistrate in Pembrokeshire was heard to re-
mark: "I see the government have just sent a
From "England in the Sudan." By permission of The Macmillarj
A SAND-STORM SWEEPING OVER KHARTUM.
Chinaman to the Sudan." This gentleman's idea
of the foremost soldier of his time was that he
was a Chinaman, wearing the regulation pigtail !
When Gordon arrived at Khartum in February,
he did not hesitate. He openly proclaimed his
to the people, '"to redress the evils of this land. I
will not fight with any weapons but justice." His
promise had hardly become known ere he proved
his sincerity. To all who had com-
plaints he gave a hearing. He
flung open the doors of the jail,
where the condition of the prison-
ers was terrible. Many of them
were merely the political enemies
of some native official ; others, im-
mured for years, had been only
charged with crime, but never con-
victed.
By the middle of March, he had
succeeded in sending almost three
thousand people down the Nile
into safety. But the Mahdi was
daily growing stronger, and Gor-
don soon discovered that he could
expect no assistance from without.
On the sixteenth of April, he de-
spatched his last telegram before the wires were
cut. The rebels hemmed in the city ; the toil of
the siege had begun !
Gordon's resources were small, his troops ripe
for revolt, and he had only four Europeans to
A SAND-STORM IN THE DESERT.
course, and started to send away as many women
and children and extra troops as possible. "I
came without soldiers," he said in his first address
stand by him. He still had it in his power to
leave with his friends who went down the Nile,
but he did not feel that he could abandon the peo-
igi2.]
CHARLES GEORGE GORDON
931
pie of Khartum. For if it were heard that Gor-
don, who was the moving spirit of the siege, had
left, the city would soon have fallen before the
assaults of the Mahdi.
Day after day during the weary summer
months, they (or should we say he?) defended
the post, while the enemy pushed their works
closer and closer.
Toward the end of September, the river was at
alone maintained that city for over four months
after the sailing of the Abbas! He seemed verily
to make supplies. He crushed the conspirators,
and reformed the remnants of the miserable
"army." There he stood — alert by night, cease-
lessly toiling by day. Then came the news that
the Abbas was lost, and nearly all aboard mas-
sacred. This was, indeed, the last straw !
But let us for a moment tear ourselves away
GLOOM AND GLEAM IN THE DESERT.
its height. Now was the time, if any attempt was
to be made, to communicate with the outside
world. So on the night of September 9, the little
paddle-boat Abbas stole off down-stream, with
Colonel Stewart, a few foreigners, and some fifty
soldiers, besides correspondence, journals of the
siege, and state papers.
Gordon now remained alone in the great palace
at Khartum. The knowledge of treachery
within, the anxiety of ceaseless watch, the wear
and tear of the siege— all this was now to be
borne alone, while those "statesmen" who had
brought down on him this famine and misery
were working out intricate and conflicting politi-
cal problems at home, and wondering why he
did n't come away. He desert his post? He
abandon his people, and let his duty to God and
country go to the winds ? Never such a thought
entered his head ! He was there, and there he
would stay. The enemy was at the very gates.
Treachery was at work. The ammunition was
running short. His troops were deserting. Food
was daily growing scarcer. Yet in the face of
these seemingly insurmountable difficulties, he
from Khartum, and gaze across many miles of
weary desert, to where the relief expedition,
which had been finally started by the "statesmen,"
is toiling to reach in time the lone prisoner far
up the river. What has been done at home during
the summer months while Gordon was "sticking
like iron" to his post? The executives had each
expounded rival theories as to the proper plan of
action, while red tape tied up the whole affair.
But at last, in August, aroused by the protests of
the people, the officials awoke and sanctioned the
expedition which now, in October, was forcing its
way up the cataracts of the Nile.
As December advanced, a foreboding silence
settled over Khartum, and no news reached the
expedition from the beleaguered city.
There are many slightly conflicting accounts of
the memorable last few days at Khartum, but that
told by Gordon's body-servant seems most ac-
curate.
Before daybreak on January 26, 1885, the Arabs
made a desperate assault. Treachery was at
work, for Gordon was not even told of the attack.
The Arabs forced the walls, which were but
932
CHARLES GEORGE GORDON
feebly defended by the starved troops, and en-
tered the lost city.
Gordon was roused from a short rest by the
shrieks of the inhabitants and the flare of the
burning houses in the city below, which was still
A couple of weeks later, when the relief ex-
pedition arrived, not a trace remained of Gor-
don's body. No grave contains what was mortal
of one of the world's greatest heroes. For some-
where out in the vast waste, the field of his
STATUE OF CHARLES GEORGE GORDON. BY ONSLOW FORD.
The memorial erected by the Corps of Royal Engineers at the School of Military Engineering, Chatham, England.
A copy of this statue stands in the Gordon Gardens at Khartum.
hid in the early morning mist. Taking a small
party of servants, he moved toward the Austrian
Mission Church, which served as the arsenal.
The mysterious dawn of the East was breaking
as Gordon's small party took their way through
the streets. As they reached the head of the
steps leading down to the mission, they came face
to face with a band of Arabs. There flared out a
quick musketry volley, and Gordon fell dead.
devotion, his dust lies covered by the ever-shift-
ing sand.
Fifteen years earlier, Ruskin had prayed that a
leader among men might arise who should "teach
us how to live and how to die." Had not this
prayer been fully answered ?
"And lie buried him . . . but no man knoweth
of li is sepulchre unto this day."
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
AND HER CHEERFUL LITTLE DOLL
(A " To-be-continiied" story for Middle-Aged Little Folk)
BY CAROLINE STETSON ALLEN
Chapter V
THE DOLL GOES A-MAYING
You were to guess, you remember, if Mama was
pleased with Elizabeth and Alice.
She was ! She said the doll was a blessing in
the house. Think of that !
One bright May morning, Elizabeth awoke
earlier than usual. She almost always slept
soundly until seven o'clock, but on this morning
she awoke at seventeen minutes past six.
First she leaned over and reached to Alice's
crib, which stood close to her own little cot bed,
and she lifted the doll up beside her. Susie Jane
was there, too. Then Elizabeth propped Alice
on her arm, and taught her to play :
Bean porridge hot,
Bean porridge cold ;
Bean porridge in the pot,
Nine days old!
And just then, who should come softly tip-
toeing into the room but Cousin Eleanor.
"Oh, Cousin Eleanor, you look so sweet I"
whispered Elizabeth.
Cousin Eleanor's thick black hair fell in two
braids over her shoulders. Her primrose-colored
kimono was strewn with white cornel blossoms,
and on her softly treading feet were primrose
bed-slippers, tied with white ribbon. She stepped
lightly over to her little cousin's cot, and lay
down beside her.
"Do you want to hear a secret? And would Alice
and Susie Jane like to hear, too?" she whispered.
Elizabeth's answer was a regular bear's hug.
"Well, then ! But keep as quiet as mice, all
three of you, while I tell you. By and by, when
you 've had your bath and dressed and eaten
breakfast, we 're all going a-Maying !"
Elizabeth bounced up and down on the bed,
and pressed her lips tightly together to keep
from shouting.
"Mr. Tom Gray has invited the whole family,
and Teddy Hallowell's family, too, and we 're
to go in a barge, which, you know, is a big wagon.
"We 're going to Hadley's Meadows," went
on Cousin Eleanor, "though why it 's called
'Meadows' I don't know, for it 's almost all
woods, except where parts have been burned
over. Uncle Nathaniel says he '11 drive, and
Sophie and I are to put up the lunch."
"May I help, dear Cousin Eleanor?" asked
Elizabeth.
"Oh, how kind of you ! I 'd be very glad of
your help," said Cousin Eleanor. And then she
looked at her watch, and said they need n't
whisper any more, for it was time for everybody
to get up.
Elizabeth, now that she was seven years old,
could dress herself entirely, except some of the
back buttons. Sophie buttoned those for her, and
Elizabeth in turn helped little Charlotte, who was
five.
After breakfast, Hannah brought into the
dining-room several loaves of bread, some pats
of butter, and a large roast chicken. Cousin
Eleanor did the slicing, Sophie spread the butter,
and Elizabeth laid the half slices neatly together
with chicken in between. When the sandwiches
were all made and packed with the sponge
cookies, Cousin Eleanor, who was hunting high
and low for the lemon-squeezer, said : "Oh,
here 's the most fascinating little tin box ! What
can we put in it ?"
"Let me have it, please, for Alice's lunch," said
Elizabeth, eagerly. So the box was given to her ;
and first Elizabeth cut a nice piece of white
paper to go inside. She then put in the box two
tiny sandwiches (one of chicken and one of
lettuce), two oyster crackers, a radish the size
of a strawberry, an olive, a raisin, a freshly
baked ginger-snap, and a little bottle of milk.
Uncle Nathaniel said he should know where to
come if he had n't enough to eat.
Promptly as the old hall clock struck nine,
Mr. Tom Gray drove up to the front gate with
the barge. He jumped down to help the ladies
into the barge, while Uncle Nathaniel climbed
up to the driver's seat and took the reins. Big
Brother Bob got up beside him. All the rest
were soon seated inside.
Along one side sat Jack (who liked to be near
the horses), Mama, Charlotte, Elizabeth, Alice,
Cousin Eleanor, and Mr. Tom Gray. And, fac-
ing them, in another long row, were Papa, Teddy
Hallowell, Sophie, and four other Hallowells.
Elizabeth held Alice up to see everything they
passed. At a cottage door, at the first turn of
the road, a little yellow-haired girl of about
Elizabeth's own age spied the doll in the barge,
934
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
[Aug.,
COUSIN ELEANOR AND ELIZABETH IN
" HADLEY'S MEADOWS."
and held up her own rag doll, and waved her
hand. Quick as a flash, Alice took out a little
handkerchief from her jacket pocket, and waved
it to the doll in return.
By and by they came to a brook, and the barge
was stopped that the horses might drink. The
horses' names were "Arithmetic" and "Geog-
raphy," but they were called Mettie and Jog, for
short. Alice was thirsty, too, so Elizabeth jumped
out of the barge with her, and filled an acorn
cup with the cool, clear water, and held it to the
doll's lips.
Alice wore a pink dimity frock, and a cunning
little sunbonnet to match. Over the frock she
wore a white knitted jacket with pink buttons.
After about two hours of driving merrily along
pleasant country roads, they came to Hadley's
Meadows. Then every one got out of the barge,
and Mettie and Jog were hitched to a tree, patted,
and given each a lump of sugar and an apple.
Most of the picnickers ran, while a few walked,
into the woods, and Elizabeth and Alice so longed
to see and smell the waxy, fragrant May-flowers,
that they ran fastest of all. The flowers were so
cunningly hidden away that many a grown-up
might easily pass them by. But not so Alice !
down she went on her knees, peeping here and
there under the trees. How soft the mosses were
on which she knelt ! Her blue eyes were so
bright that she soon spied the dainty blossoms.
Trailing arbutus is one of their names, and
epigasa is another ; but we will call them "May-
flowers," as did Elizabeth and Alice.
How could the May-flowers be afraid of Alice?
She was very small, and clothed in their own
color. She did n't pull roughly at their roots,
so the May-flowers seemed to peer out at her
from their secret places, and did n't at all mind
being drawn gently from the moist ground, and
put into the green nest of her basket. This bas-
ket, when heaped full, was emptied into Eliza-
beth's larger one.
Guess how many times Alice filled her basket
before the sun sank low and every one had to
leave the spicy-smelling woods. Guess — and I
will tell you the answer in the next chapter.
Chapter VI
THE DOLL AT THE SEA-SHORE
Alice filled her basket seventeen times. Would
you believe it !
That summer, Mrs. Dale went away for a long
visit. She stayed two days. Oh, it was a weary
while ! On the day before she came back, every
one flew about, putting the house in apple-pie
order, and Elizabeth and Alice were very busy.
1912.]
AND HER CHEERFUL LITTLE DOLL
935
Well, the afternoon that Elizabeth's mama came
home from Lexington, and to celebrate her glad
arrival, all the family went, next morning, to pass
a day at the sea-shore. This time breakfast had
to be very early indeed, so they might catch the
morning boat from Boston.
Now you are eager to know what Alice had on
that day. It was an unusually warm one, even
for the middle of July, and she wore a thin white
muslin frock, her white pique hat, and carried the
blue-and-white parasol. On
her feet she wore short blue
socks and ankle-tie slippers.
The white frock was her
Sunday one, to be sure, but
then, one did n't go to the
sea-shore every day. In a
snug little parcel tied to the
tin box was the doll's bath-
ing-suit.
The trip began with a ride
in the train to Boston. I am
sorry to say that, for a while,
neither Elizabeth nor Alice
behaved very well. They
tried to push Jack away
from his place by the win-
dow. Jack had got there
first, and I think if Alice had
not been cross, and not said,
"Get away!" and had not
thumped him so hard (with
Elizabeth's hand over her
own), Jack would have
given her the place she
wanted. As it was, he did n't
move, but grew red in the face, and thumped back.
But Cousin Eleanor was a peacemaker. She
asked Jack if she herself might have his place
next the window awhile, and she took the doll in
her lap. She said Elizabeth and Jack should take
turns, and while one sat beside her, the other
should sit with Mama.
"Alice is going to count all the dogs we pass
on this side of the train," said Cousin Eleanor,
"and you, Jack, count all you see from your side."
Within fifteen minutes Alice had seen six and
Jack eight dogs.
When Jack's face was no longer scarlet, Cousin
Eleanor told the two children how grieved she
felt when they quarreled.
"A journey on a hot day can be uncomfortable
if we think only of how hot it is, and of what we
want; or it can be a pleasant journey if we get
interested in helping somebody else. Let 's each
think of something kind that Alice can do."
"She can give me her seat," said Jack.
"She can take your shawl, and fix it for a pil-
low under your head, dear Cousin Eleanor," said
Elizabeth, helping Alice to so arrange the shawl.
Jack looked ashamed. He felt that his wish
had been a selfish one, but he did not know how
to say so. Cousin Eleanor knew what he was
thinking. She softly patted his hand, while she
thanked Elizabeth.
"Jack may sit by the window now," she said.
"Charlotte can," said Jack. And he ran to
&fflr
ALICE FILLED HER BASKET SEVENTEEN TIMES.
where Charlotte was sitting with Grandmama, a
few seats ahead of them, and said : "Charlotte,
Cousin Eleanor wants you, please."
He slipped into the seat beside Grandmama
and Charlotte trotted gladly down the aisle.
By and by the train drew into Boston. In the
city they drove to the wharf. Then, oh, how
happy the children were, as they sniffed the salt
air, and found themselves on a steamboat !
Alice stood on the railing, and saw many other
boats, some with flags. Behind their own boat
streamed a broad white ribbon of foam ; and
there, in the steamer's wake, the waves were big-
ger, and a fisherman's dory bobbed up and down
upon them in such a jolly way, that Jack quite
burned to be in it.
Baby liked the fresh salt breeze in his face, and
smiled to see Mama's bonnet ribbons flutter so
prettily. He stretched out his arms toward the
sea-gulls that made wonderful sweeping curves
in their flight and dipped into the blue sea.
936
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
[Aug.,
It was a long sail, so long that luncheon was
unpacked and eaten before they left the boat.
They had egg sandwiches, lamb sandwiches, great
black cherries in plenty, and plum buns. Besides
her own "special sandwiches," Alice found in her
lunch-box two cherries, and a little bottle of
lemonade which Elizabeth had thoughtfully pro-
vided, knowing how refreshing it would be.
"This is too bad !" said Uncle Nathaniel ; "I
"'WOULD NT YOU LIKE TO BE A LITTLE MERMAIDEN
think, when we are on the ocean, somebody might
feel just a little, little seasick."
"Alice does," said Elizabeth.
"Oh, do let me see if her cheeks are pale !"
said Uncle Nathaniel.
"No, but she has to go in the cabin and lie
down," said Elizabeth. And she ran inside, and
placed the doll on a soft cushion. When she
came out, she found Jack and Charlotte fishing
for brown and green seaweed, with bent hair-
pins fastened to long lines of strong twine. Jack
fixed a line for Elizabeth, and the three children
fished until the boat touched the landing.
On reaching the shore, the family walked along
the beach till they came to a quiet part where the
sand was very fine and white. Here the children
and the little curling waves ran to meet each
other until the water almost touched their toes.
Papa found a nice, shady place for Grandmama
and Mama and Baby Hugh, in the shade of a
great gray rock. Sophie, Elizabeth, Jack, and
Charlotte at once pulled off their shoes and stock-
ings, and waded to their knees in the refreshing
water. Elizabeth thought she would teach Alice
to swim. A fruit basket turned on its side made
a good bath-house, and she took off the doll's
clothes and placed them in the basket. Then the
little white bathing-suit, trimmed with light green
braid, was brought forth,
and popped over Alice's
head.
"Won't her hair get
wet?" asked Sophie.
"Oh, dear!" said Eliz-
abeth.
"See if this will fit her,"
said Cousin Eleanor.
She had foreseen that
Alice would be aching for
a salt bath, and so she had
brought, and now handed
to Elizabeth, a tiny bath-
ing-cap made of oiled silk.
It exactly fitted the doll's
head ; and all Alice's pretty
brown hair was snugly
tucked inside, and not one
curl allowed to escape from
under the elastic.
"Thank you, darling
Cousin Eleanor ! You al-
ways think of everything!"
said Elizabeth.
Alice was now all ready
to go into the water. But
what was the matter? She
put both hands to her eyes,
and looked as if she were about to cry.
Then Elizabeth took Alice in her arms, and
said : "Why, you should n't be frightened, deary !
See Bobby Shafto floating on his back out there.
He does n't cry." Bobby Shafto was Charlotte's
boy doll.
"Of course he floats! He 's rubber," said Jack.
"Don't say that to her, Jack," pleaded Eliza-
beth, and Jack, thinking how queer girls were,
plunged in yet deeper after his toy schooner.
"If Susie Jane sees that you are afraid, it will
make her so, too," went on Elizabeth. "Put this
shell to your ear. Is n't that a wonderful sound?
More shells like that are under the water. It is
whispering to us to come in and see the baby
shells and the pretty pebbles. I see them all shin-
ing underneath the waves. Would n't you like to
be a little mermaiden ? Would n't you like to
make friends with the beautiful, sparkling sea?"
igi2.]
AND HER CHEERFUL LITTLE DOLL
937
So, then, Alice went bravely into the water,
and soon splashed Susie Jane, and Susie Jane
splashed back ! And Bobby Shafto gave both
dolls a ride on his back.
"Alice just loves swimming !" cried Sophie.
"I thought she would !" said Elizabeth.
Later, everybody, except Grandmama, Mama,
and Baby, went in bathing. Papa and Uncle Na-
thaniel were very jolly, and gave the children a
glorious time.
Guess how many of them fell sound asleep in
the train going home, and I will tell you the an-
swer in the next chapter.
Chapter VII
THE DOLL LEARNS TRUE POLITENESS
Every blessed one of them ! Even Papa wakened
only just in time to say, "Preserve us ! Ours is
the next station !"
As soon as the Dales got home, they ate a hot
supper which Hannah had ready for them, and
then the children were glad to go to bed.
The next day was still hotter, and Cousin
Eleanor, who always felt the heat very much, lay
upon a lounge, for she had a terrible headache.
The sun streamed broadly through her south win-
dow, but she felt so ill that she dreaded even to
get up to fix the shade.
"In just a minute I will," she said to herself,
and closed her eyes. "If only that water-pitcher
were nearer !" she thought.
She lay there for a little while with her eyes
shut ; and then Elizabeth came into the room with
her doll in her arms. She stopped just inside the
door, with her finger on her lip, looking toward
Cousin Eleanor ; and then, what do you think she
did? First, she stepped, so softly that it was like
a kitten stepping, over to the south window, and
pulled the green shade slowly down until the sun
was hidden, and cool shadows played over thefloor.
You remember that, at the christening, Eliza-
beth said that she wanted her doll to grow up to
be like Aunt Alice, down in Yarmouthport, who
was always careful about being kind? So now
she considered what Alice could do. Presently
she wound a soft handkerchief around and around
the doll's hand, and arm, and tied it firmly. Next,
she turned some cold water into the basin, and
brought the basin, with great care, onto a chair
beside the bed.
Cousin Eleanor, did n't open her eyes. She
thought, "I don't know what the child is doing,
but I won't send her out if she likes to be here.
She was such a darling to shut out that horrid
sun. Oh, how my head does ache !"
Just then she felt something deliciously cool
and soft and wet drawn lightly across her fore-
head. You know what it was. Again it came,
and again. Never had anything felt so good to
Cousin Eleanor ! She said not a word. Alice,
too, was so well-bred that she knew it was not a
time to speak.
But by and by, Cousin Eleanor opened her eyes,
smiled brightly at Elizabeth, and said : "I really
believe the headache is going away !" And she
sat up, and kissed Elizabeth, and then Alice.
So, now, the doll had learned another way to
help.
"Thank you very much," said Cousin Eleanor.
"It seems to me that Alice is growing to be a
very well-bred doll. How thoughtful she was to
bathe my forehead."
Elizabeth looked at Alice more happily.
"Who taught Aunt Alice to be polite ?" she asked.
"Why, I think she was taught a great deal by
her own kind heart," answered Cousin Eleanor.
"Her mother died when she was a little baby.
But I really believe Aunt Alice could not be
happy a moment if she felt some one near her
was uncomfortable. She puts her own wishes
last. And now, honey, it 's growing cooler out-
side, so let 's take our pails and go out into the
pasture and pick some huckleberries. If we get
enough, I '11 make a roly-poly pudding for our
dinner, and you shall make a little one exactly
like it for Alice and Susie Jane."
Guess what it was that made Cousin Eleanor's
own manners so good, and I will tell you in the
next chapter.
(To be continued.')
WHEN THE DAY IS OVER.
Vol. XXXIX. -118.
SOME ODDITIES OF THE FISH WORLD
For many years it has been known that certain
fish make sounds known as drumming, and that
others make noises that are somewhat musical
and not unlike the croaking of a big bullfrog.
Though the cause of these sounds could have
been easily investigated, as such fish are widely
found, this was not done until recently, although
a number of suggestions were made by various
writers as to the means by which the sounds
THE CLIMBING FISH.
Travels on land and even climbs trees.
were produced. In 1880, Gunther, a careful stu-
dent, wrote as follows :
These drumming sounds are frequently noticed by
persons in vessels lying at anchor on the coasts of the
United States. It is still a matter of uncertainty by what
means the drumfish produces the sounds. Some naturalists
believe that it is caused by the clapping together of the very
'arge molar teeth. However, if it be true that the sounds
are accompanied by a tremulous motion of the vessel, it
seems more probable that they are produced by the fishes
beating their tails against the bottom of the vessel in order
to get rid of the parasites with which that part of their
body is infested.
Another writer stated that the sounds were
supposed to be made by the forcible expulsion of
air from the swim-bladder. But quite recently
Dr. Hugh M. Smith, of Washington, D. C,
has discovered that the drumming is produced
by a special muscle in connection with the air-
bladder, which acts as a sounding-board. The
drumfish is found along the Atlantic coast from
Massachusetts to Florida.
It is said that more than fifty species of fish
are known to make sounds of some kind. The
mud sunfish utters a deep grunting sound ; the
mullet, the catfish, and even the eel are known to
be sound producers.
In Siam, a variety of sole, known as dog's-
tongue (Cynoglossus), attaches itself to the bot-
tom of boats and makes a sonorous sound which
is more musical when several are attached to the
same boat and act in concert. This sound is
"something like that of a jew's-harp struck
slowly, though sometimes it increases in loudness
so as to resemble the full tones and sound of an
organ."
The sea-robin gives a short, high-pitched
grunt — whence its name of "pigfish," given to it
in some places.
Darwin tells of a catfish "which is remarkable
for a harsh, grating noise when caught by hook
and line. This noise can be distinctly heard even
when the fish is beneath the water."
In this connection it will doubtless be of in-
terest to our young people to have their atten-
tion called to certain fish of peculiar form. One
of the strangest is known by scientists as Mela-
nocetus. Another is the Enrypharyx, also known
as the pelican-fish. These are here pictured by
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
939
our artist. They are deep-sea fishes, living over
a mile below the surface. It is believed that the
Melanocetus buries itself in the mud, and when
the "feeler" is touched, suddenly opens its huge
mouth and draws in its food.
Among the most interesting fresh-water fish
that are sometimes kept in household aquaria is
the stickleback, which builds a nest. Some build
these homes in the bottom of the streams, hiding
the nest among the weeds and water-plants ;
others build on submerged boughs, or on stones
or projecting ledges. All kinds of material are
collected, and are matted together to form the
bottom of the nest, being held in place by sand,
small pebbles, leaves, stems, or twigs, all of
which are glued together by an adhesive secre-
tion of the fish. After the base has been formed,
the sides and roof are made, with a circular
opening at or near the top. In the fresh waters
of Guiana, a beautiful, green-brown fish, the
Callicthys, builds a nest of grass blades, straw,
and leaves, not in the water, but in a muddy hole
at the edge, and just above the surface. When
the water dries away, the fish, by means of its
fins, creeps to other wet or marshy places. It is
said to live for twenty-four hours out of water.
Our common sunfish are nest-builders. Every
country boy with observing eyes has noticed, at
the edge of the pond, the clean appearance of
certain spots from which all vegetable material,
mud, and pebbles have been removed. This has
been done by the sunfish, whose swaying body
and moving fins and tail make currents in the
water, that wash the spot and leave only the clean
sand. Sometimes the pebbles and other unde-
QUEEK FISH — THE "PELICAN
THE "DEEP-SEA ANGLER.'
sirable objects are carried away in the fish's
mouth. The stems of the surrounding plants are
THE NOISY "SALT-WATER DRUM" (AT LEFT) AND THE "SEA-ROBIN."
940
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[Aug.,
at times trained above the cleaned depression and
form a perfect bower.
But of all strange nests, the one that has
pleased me most is that of the Indian paradise-
fish, kept in an ordinary house aquarium. This
fish is novel, not only on account of its brilliant
markings, but it also breathes air, and does not,
like other fish, depend for its oxygen on that set
free in the water by aquatic plants. But the
most remarkable thing about it is its method of
building a nest. These amazing nests not only
float, but are formed of air bubbles. With its
mouth the fish blows the little bubbles, and coats
them with an adhesive or mucilaginous substance,
so that they adhere together and form a floating,
fairy-like mass, in which the eggs are laid, and
in which the young are hatched. Occasionally a
young fish will slip out, or apparently tumble out,
of his home of bubbles, and circle away, finally
falling to the bottom of the aquarium. Then one
of the parents, in serious alarm at what has hap-
pened to the youngster, swims quickly to the bot-
tom, draws the little one into its mouth, swims
back to the delicate bubble mass, and literally
"blows him up," because he was so careless as to
fall out of bed.
A "SHOCKING" FISH
The electric ray (Narcinc brasilicnsis) has a
broad body covered with smooth skin, and is
shocks similar in effect to that produced by a
galvanic battery. The shocks delivered by these
creatures are very startling, and barefoot fisher-
men have been known to be knocked down by
accidentally stepping on them in shallow water.
The specimen here pictured was captured in
the Gulf of Mexico near Veteran, Florida, and
taken alive to the laboratory of Mr. A. G. Rey-
nolds. The National Museum has specimens of
Narcine brasilicnsis from Cape Lookout, North
Carolina, and from several localities in Florida,
as well as from Cozumel Island and Jamaica.
This ray is very small when compared with the
common electric ray (Tctronarce), which reaches
a weight of two hundred pounds.
B. A. Bean, Smithsonian Institution.
THE WALKING-STICK INSECT
THIS FISH CAN GIVE A STARTLING ELECTRIC SHOCK.
provided with an organ, consisting largely of a
jelly-like fluid, which enables the animal to give
A rambler in the forest is often surprised to find
what seems to be a twig alive. This is the walk-
ing-stick insect. It has many relatives in the in-
sect world, the family name being Phasmidac,
from a Greek word meaning an apparition, a
name that fits it well, for indeed it looks like the
ghost of a twig. The accompanying photograph
of this insect on a real twig was sent to St.
Nicholas by John Boyd, Sarnia, Ontario, Canada.
igii.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
941
WALRUS ON FLOATING ICE IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS.
WALRUS AT HOME
Through the courtesy of Mr. Harry Whitney,
we here present an extremely interesting photo-
graph of walrus on a cake of ice in the arctic
regions. A young walrus from the Whitney Ex-
hibition is now at the New York Zoological Park.
It will be recalled by our readers that we pub-
lished on page 841 of "Nature and Science" for
July, 1911, an account of the young walrus from
the Whitney Exhibition now at the park.
"MEMORY ROOT," AND WHY
"Do you know the memory root ?" inquired one
boy of another, during a ramble in the woods.
"No; what is it, and why is it called that?"
"Come here and look at it, and I will tell you
why," said boy number one, showing his compan-
ion a root of the Indian turnip ; and, as they bent
over it, he continued :
"I once dug up one of these plants, and, being
young and foolish, I tasted it, taking a very little
piece to be sure. Just at fjrst it seemed all right,
but in a moment — phew ! I thought I had tried to
eat red-hot needles. I found out later that it is
really full of tiny, needle-like prickers. One is n't
likely to forget such an experience, so we call it
the memory root."
Many plants are so placed by nature that they
must protect themselves from the attacks of in-
sects and of larger animals, in order that they may
thrive and increase. Some have thorns to pre-
vent the cattle from eating their leaves. Some
have spines or prickles around the blossoms to
exclude undesirable visitors. Many others have
peculiar means of obtaining similar protection.
The jack-in-the-pulpit, or our "memory plant,"
has its weapons in the underground bulb, and
these consist of minute needles of crystal, about
one five-hundredths of an inch in length, invisible
to the naked eye, but a few sticking to the lips
or tongue will make themselves painfully known,
for they burn and sting like fire. Birds may
safely eat the cluster of red berries that "jack"
A MAGNIFIED VIEW OF A SMALL PIECE
OF " MEMORY ROOT."
lifts every autumn on the top of a long stem.
But no boy or other animal will more than once
molest the bulb, and our young folks should never
eat the berries.
The picture shows a magnified bit of the root
942
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[Aug.,
of the memory plant, and, scattered over the dark
surface, are many long needle-like objects. These
are the sharp spicules, or needles of crystal, that
pierce the tongue and cause the terrible burning
sensation when a portion of the bulb is taken
into the mouth. Jack's root is harmless in ap-
pearance, but it is well protected, and the micro-
scope shows how.
The plant is also known as Indian turnip, be-
cause the Indians are said to have used it for
food, first boiling the bulb, and this way, it is
said, destroying the needles, or the spicules, as
the botanist calls them. — Clement B. Davis.
TWO ODD NESTING PLACES
The first illustration shows a humming-bird's
nest, that I took last summer on the porch of a
friend's house. The electric light hung a little
too low, so a knot was tied in the cord to raise it.
That left a loop about two inches long, and the
little hummers built their nest on it. The light
was turned off and on every night and morning,
The second illustration shows an old horseshoe,
which a friend of mine hung up in his wagon
house to hold the buggy pole, and to keep it up
out of the way. Early in the summer, a pair of
humming-birds appropriated it for their own use.
I hung the horseshoe in a tree to take the picture.
Leo C. Thorne.
A HUMMING-BIRDS NEST ON AN ELECTRIC WIRE LOOP.
but that did not disturb them in the least. The
picture shows the heads of the young birds just
a few days before they left their nest.
THE HUMMING-BIRDS NEST ON A HORSESHOE.
THE LARGEST APPLE ON RECORD
The gigantic apple shown in the picture was
grown by F. L. Post and Sons, of Chelan, State
of Washington. It measures seventeen and one
eighth inches in circumference, and weighs more
than forty-one ounces. It grew on an eight-year-
old tree on sub-irrigated land. The tree received
ordinary cultivation, and the apple had no extra
care except that it was inclosed in thin netting
and tied to the tree to prevent it from falling to
the ground. The apple is of the variety known
as "Spokane Beauty." These apples grow to
great size, are good to eat raw, and for cook-
ing, and not specially coarse in grain. The
flavor is sub-acid. In color they are a light pink
with darker stripes. The tree which bore this
apple grew on the shore of Lake Chelan, about
two miles from the town of Chelan, within a
stone's throw of the water.
The owner of the apple-tree which bore this
wonderful fruit writes to St. Nicholas:
19I2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
943
THE BIG APPLE IN COMPARISON WITH ONE OF
ORDINARY SIZE.
"I sent the largest apple grown on that tree to
the Canadian National Apple Show, where it car-
ried off the great prize for the largest apple in
the world— a hundred-dollar gold medal. Later,
apples were sent to other shows and won the first
prize. In one lot fifty of the largest apples
weighed together eighty-five pounds."
A ROOT PUNCTURED A ROOT
Some years ago, a gardener sent me the two rad-
ishes shown in the photograph. They were about
six or seven inches long, and, as you see, one of
them ran directly through the other. In the sec-
--
/
By courtesy ot "The American Botanist," Joliet, Illinois.
DIAGRAMS TO SHOW THE SMOOTH,
ROUND HOLE IN ONE ROOT, MADE
BY CONSTRICTED PORTION OF THE
OTHER ROOT.
PHOTOGRAPH OF TWO
RADISH ROOTS, ONE OF
WHICH HAD GROWN
THROUGH THE OTHER.
ond picture the two roots are shown after sepa-
ration, and, as shown, the hole is quite small,
while the root that ran through it grew to about
normal size after emerging on the other side.
The hole showed no signs of decay or injury. I
do not know how one root managed to puncture
the other in this case. The sharp-eyed readers of
St. Nicholas should be on the lookout for cases
of this kind. Charles E. Bessey.
ONE OF NATURE'S TRAGEDIES
For several days, my brother and I had been
searching the big pear-tree for the humming-
bird's nest that we felt sure was there. Every
time we came near the tree, the old bird left it
with a loud hum, so we were trying to see where
she came from. At last we located the nest on a
limb well out from the body of the tree, where it
blended perfectly with its surroundings, and
looked like an old, rough knot. It contained two
snow-white eggs, about the size and shape of
THE PEAR THAT KILLED THE YOUNG HUMMING-BIRDS.
small navy beans. Just a few days after the dis-
covery, the young birds burst their white prison
and appeared as two dark objects — long-billed,
homely, wiggling. They grew with amazing rapid-
ity, and then we noticed a pear, on the end of a
slender twig just above the nest, which also was
growing very fast. We intended to watch it
closely and pick it if it got too close to the nest.
Then we had to make a trip to another farm fif-
teen miles away on Green River, and, in the hurry
and preparation for the trip, we forgot all about
the little birds and their impending fate. When
we came home after a week's absence, the pear
had so grown, and its increased weight had so
bent the twig, that it rested squarely on top of
the nest, and had killed both the birds, which
were nearly full-grown. The accompanying pho-
tograph shows the tragedy. Leo C. Thorne.
944
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[Aug.,
^"BECAUSE- WE
( WANT TO KNOW"
DOES THE OSTRICH BURY ITS HEAD?
New Rochelle, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas: I would like to know why an
ostrich buries its head in the dirt when he sees anybody
coming.
Your loving and interested reader,
Marion F. Hui.stead (age 9).
Some naturalists refer to this widely known
tale as a "foolish story," while others think it is
possible, though not probable, that the ostrich
does hide its head when frightened. Professor
William T. Hornaday, Director of the New York
Zoological Park, says, in reply to the question :
"I really do not know. I do not know any one
who knows. To me the story is marked, 'Not
proven.' "
a cat closes its eyes while lapping milk
Pai.o Alto, Cal.
Dear St. Nicholas: My cat always closes his eyes
when he laps milk. Could you please tell me why he
does that? He is pure black and not full-grown, but I
like to play with him.
I rem r. in
Your affectionate reader,
Anna Franklin (age 11).
I think that the cat closes his eyes while lap-
ping milk as an evidence of extreme satisfaction
and pleasure while so occupied. I notice my own
cat has that trick when he considers himself espe-
cially happy, and it gives him such an expression
of bliss — no "smaller" word expresses it — that it
often makes me wish I could stand in his paws
(I could n't stand in his shoes, of course), and
see for myself how he feels!— Jane R. Cath-
cart.
the very old game of jackstones
Cedar Rapids, Ia.
Dear St. Nicholas : I was playing a game of "jacks"
to-day, and I was wondering where the game first orig-
inated, and when and by whom it was first played.
I think it a very interesting game, because it requires
practice and patience to do it well.
Your inquisitive reader,
Leonora Parker.
Nothing is known of the origin of the game of
jackstones. It existed in classical antiquity, it is
known in the Orient, and by children generally.
The materials differ, but the rules of the game,
as far as they are known, are everywhere about
the same. Of certain games— chess, playing cards,
dice — the line of descent may be traced, if not
their precise origin. As far as I know, however,
there is no clue to the origin of jackstones. And
the same is true of tops, bats and balls, and most
children's games. — Stewart Culin, Brooklyn
Institute Museum, Brooklyn, New York.
HOW LONG CAN A GOLDFISH LIVE?
St. John, N. B., Canada.
Dear St. Nicholas: How long can a goldfish live? I
used to have three, but two of them died. The one I have
now is well enough, but I should like to know how long
it can live.
Your interested reader,
Angela Magee.
I knew of a very highly developed goldfish that
lived for twelve years. This was the scaled
From " Goldfish Breeds." By permission of limes & Sons, Philadelphia.
A TWELVE-YEAR-OLD FRINGETAIL GOLDFISH.
fringetail used as an illustration in Wolf's book
on goldfish. I know of a person who claimed six-
teen years for a moon telescope-fish. My mother
raised some common fish twenty years ago. We
had one of them for fifteen years, and then gave
it to a relative, who kept it alive under very poor
conditions for three years more. During these
three years a number of younger fish died in the
same aquarium. Under proper conditions I am
sure it would have lived for twenty years, and I
believe that such a fish can be kept alive for a
quarter of a century. Highly developed fish, if
they live to become six months of age, will usually
then live from two to four years.— William T.
Innes, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
1912.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
945
an odd-shaped oak
Santa Rosa, Cai..
Dear St. Nicholas: The accompanying photograph is
of an odd-shaped oak-tree. The trunk has turned over
until it somewhat resembles a horseshoe, and in between
them a limb has grown uniting them firmly together, as
shown in the photograph. The tree measures about one
foot in diameter.
Peter Kirch.
a long word in chemistry
Wheeling, W. Va.
Dear St. Nicholas : I have just found in a history of
chemistry, written by William Allen Hamor, Research
Chemist of The College of the City of New York, a
word containing forty-nine letters. I won't ask what it
means, but is "pentamethyldiamidothiodiphenylamindi-
iodomethylate" surpassed in length by any word at all ?
Hoping this will interest you as it has interested me,
I remain,
Very truly yours,
Robt. C. Darrah, Jr.
There is hardly any limit to the length of such
words, and, if it were worth while, much longer
words than the one given could be used to de-
scribe known or imaginary organic compounds.
Such chemical words are really compounds of
a number of words. Sometimes hyphens are put
in to separate some of the parts, but, following
the German usage, according to which words of
any length may be compounded, the hyphens are
often not used by English-writing chemists.
I should insist that such chemical words do not
belong to the English language at all, but to a
Vol. XXXIX.— 119.
Germanized-English chemical language, and
should bar them out from consideration as long
words on the ground that they are compound
words used without hyphens. — H. L. Wells.
The comment of Professor Wells is perfectly
correct, and I am heartily in accord with the
opinion expressed in the last paragraph of his
discussion. The word referred to by Mr. Dar-
rah, Jr., is only given in my "History of Chem-
istry" ("Science-History of the Universe," 1909,
Vol. IV, p. 2) to instance the chemical baptisms
of our German co-workers, in this case Dr. Al-
bert Maasen. — W. A. Hamor.
A FLORAL TERRESTRIAL GLOBE
(Fro?u one of our grown-up readers')
St. Louis, Mo.
Dear St. Nicholas: I send you by this mail a photo-
graph of a beautiful floral globe. It was at least fifteen
feet in diameter, and was made of a framework with recep-
tacles for potted plants. The coleus plants of which it was
made were placed very close together, and the pots were
invisible. The plants were watered from the inside as well
as the outside. The "countries " were made of dark red
plants, and the "oceans" were made of very light green
a globe made of living plants.
plants, with white and pale yellow variegations. The bed
at the base of the globe was made of the same colors. I
do not think there is any black-and-white picture that could
ever do it justice.
Respectfully,
Ruby Butler.
JACK AND JANE AND BETSY ANNE
•'JACK'S CIRCUS"
RHYMES AND PICTURES
Jack thought he 'd have a circus,
(Having taught some tricks to Ned ;)
Billy, Jane, and Betsy Anne
Could n't stay away, they said.
S3«E3
Ned began upon a barrel
All his smart tricks to display,
Till the barrel smashed completely —
Then Jack's circus ran away !
946
JACK AND JANE AND BETSY ANNE
FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
BESIDE THE SEA :
By the sea, where sparkling waves
Ever leap and play,
Jack, and Jane, and Betsy Anne
Spend a happy day.
There they build a splendid fort,
Made of silver sand ;
Till the tide comes creeping up
And cuts it off from land !
To MIC
ILKA
'THROUGH FIELDS AND LANES." BY HORACE GRAF, AGE 17. (GOLD BADGE.)
The verses printed in the following pages, under the title
" In Meadows Green," are as fresh and as full of the spirit
of summer as if written yesterday, and give no hint that
they were composed in mid- April — four long months ago
— when, in our Northern latitudes at least, the meadows
showed only the first faint promise of their present glory.
Our thanks are due to the young photographers, also,
for a set of very beautiful summer pictures, as shown by
the League heading this month and the photographs on
page 951. And the story-writers and artists have sent us
a list of contributions quite up to their usual high standard.
As for scores and scores of other League competitors, we
send this special message to each and every one: if your
name is missing from this month's Roll of Honor, we
assure you that the name was there, nevertheless, along
with some three hundred others. For all these, after be-
ing put into type, were crowded out at the last moment.
Unfortunately, the spaces of the printed page will not budge
an inch — and so it is often a question of "either — or."
If this goes in, that must come out! But there is always
the consolation for our young contributors that there will
be other chances, other competitions, and other months in
which to- " try, try again," and sooner or later to win
every prize the League can offer!
PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION NO. ISO
In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.
PROSE. Gold badge, Merrill T. B. Spalding (age 14), Brookline, Mass.
Silver badges, Frederick R. Schmidt (age 14), Chicago, 111. ; Carolyn Moneypenny (age 12), Ridgewood, N. J. ;
Julia R. Melcher (age 12), Winnetka, 111.; Granville B. Smith (age 16), Scarboro, N. Y. ; Clarence Hatch (age 15),
Plymouth, N. II.
VERSE. Gold badges, Bernice L. Kenyon (age 14), Smithtown Branch, L. I.; Albert Reynolds Eckel (age 16),
St. Joseph, Mo.
Silver badges, Winifred M. Dodge (age 13), Newton Center, Mass. ; Katherine Baker (age 12), Norfolk, Va. ;
Charles B. Moore (age 15), New York City; G-wynne A. Abbott (age 12), Groton, Mass.
DRAWINGS. Gold badge, Harry Till (age 16), Philadelphia, Pa.
Silver badges, Anna Lee Haynes (age 15), Columbia, S. C. ; Vida Grimble (age 15), Buckhurst Hill, Eng. ; Margaret
Conty (age 16), New York City.
PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badge, Horace Graf (age 17), St. Louis, Mo.
Silver badges, Franklin H. Jerauld (age 12), Ft. Thomas, Ky. ; Margaret Leathes (age 11), Toronto, Can. ; Willard
Vander Veer (age 1 7), New York City ; Fanny Ellsworth (age 11), Bronxville, N. Y.
PUZZLE-MAKING. Gold badge, Philip Franklin (age 13), Williamsbridge, N. Y.
PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badges, Mary O'Connor (age 15), Brooklyn, N. Y. ; Elsie K. Reid (age 15), Peace-
dale, R. I. ; Lois R. Fowler (age 15), Summit, N. J. ; Ernest S. Crosby (age 14), Buffalo, N. Y. ; Arnold Guyot
Cameron, Jr. (age 9), Princeton, N. J.
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
949
IN MEADOWS GREEN
(A Sonnet)
BY BERNICE LESBIA KENYON (AGE 14)
(Gold Badge)
In meadows green, where time so quickly goes,
And what seem minutes there are really hours,
There I oould stay for days among the flowers,
And try to learn the secrets no one knows ;
Learn from the brook its music as it flows ;
Learn from each unseen sprite his magic powers,
That they might not be his alone but ours —
Would I could watch each green thing as it grows !
Oh, what a world is this we call our own !
Each breeze that stirs the leaves brings joy anew,
And every fragrant flower-cup that 's seen
Seems laughing, as if sorrow ne'er was known ;
And every blade of grass is hung with dew —
Oh, what bright places are the meadows green !
AN UNUSUAL EXPERIENCE
BY MERRILL T. B. SPALDING (AGE 14)
(Gold Badge)
It was while camping one summer that I went through
one of the most unusual and exciting experiences of my
life. There were five of us : Bob Graham, Laurence
Porter, Philip Gordon, Dick Hunter, and myself. Near
our camp there was an old "haunted house," which was
the cause of the experience I am about to relate.
One day Philip suggested that we visit this house,
and, as every one was willing, we set out that evening,
planning to spend the night there. Arriving, we sta-
tioned ourselves in a room on the first floor, and com-
menced our vigil. Somehow, hard as I tried, I could
not keep awake, and soon fell a victim to the sandman.
I awoke to find Bob gripping my shoulder. He was
beside me, his hair nearly on end, and beyond him, no
less frightened, crouched Philip and Dick. Laurence,
they whispered to me, had felt so nervous that he had
gone back. They also said that they had heard groans
"AT WORK." BY DICKSON GRKEN, AGE 15. (HONOR MEMBER.)
issuing from an upper room. Just at that moment a
scream resounded throughout the house. Terror-
stricken, we huddled closer together. Then we heard
some one descending the stairs, and a white figure ap-
peared holding a bloody knife in one hand. It slowly
advanced toward us, and raising its knife, grasped me
by my shoulder. With a last desperate effort I clutched
at it, and then — I pulled away a sheet, and before us,
nearly convulsed with laughter, stood Laurence ! We
four went back feeling rather foolish. Laurence had
determined to play a joke on us when we had decided
to visit the "haunted house," and he had certainly been
successful.
Although there was no real ghost, I have since
avoided all "haunted houses," keeping in remembrance
this unusual experience and its anxious moments.
"AT THE GATE." BY MARGARET CONTY, AGE 16. (SILVER BABGE.)
MY FAVORITE RECREATION— AND WHY
BY CLARENCE HATCH (AGE 15)
(Silver Badge)
The work is done, and now for a tramp in the woods !
For a beginning, I start through the alder swamp.
There is not a bird in sight, but I stand still and
whistle two high, clear notes, "Phee-bee." Soon I am
answered by a few tiny whistles, or a plainer "tsic a dee
dee." Then the bird appea-rs, curious to see who is
calling him, but determined to keep on eating, for all
that. "Phee-bee," I whistle again, and more chickadees
appear, one of them "Phee-bees," and in a few minutes
a whole flock is around me, whistling earnestly and
sweetly, till they or I get tired of it.
Leaving the chickadees, I go through the swamp and
up the hill. Thump ! thump ! A rabbit jumps from
under a hemlock, stands staring at me for a moment
with his bright, frightened eyes, and lopes out of sight.
Farther on, I reach a great, irregular pile of boulders
that form an ideal den for a family of porcupines, whose
well-beaten path leads on up to their feeding-ground, a
hemlock grove.
If I sit still here for a while, a little house-wren
conies hopping around with his tail in the air, looking
me over critically ; a red squirrel, another tenant in the
porcupines' mansion, yelps and chirrs impudently ; a
blue-jay catches sight of me, and with his comical,
impish face peering through the branches, works up
w-ithin a few feet of me. Then, away he rushes, as if
to make up for lost time.
Next, perhaps, a new bird-call must be followed till
950
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[Aug.,
its author is learned ; and wherever I go, something new
is seen or heard.
And this, wandering through the woods with eyes and
ears open, is, in summer or winter, my favorite recrea-
tion. Why? Because I love Nature and am interested
in all her ways. Could I have a better reason ?
'a heading for august." by harry till, age 16. (gold badge.)
IN MEADOWS GREEN
(A Sonnet)
BY ALBERT REYNOLDS ECKEL (AGE 1 6)
(Gold Badge)
In meadows green, knotweed and mullen grow,
And dandelion, flower of brightest gold.
Ten thousand humming", buzzing insects hold
Gay carnival, while to each bloom they go.
As balmy summer breezes softly blow,
Shy meadow-larks and noisy blackbirds, bold,
.Trill ceaselessly their joyous songs, world old,
Yet ever new ; and lazy cattle low.
On meadow grass, thro' warm sunshiny days
In sultry summer, do I love to lie,
And dream, or read, or merely rest and gaze
Into the fair blue sky, where clouds sail by ;
A peaceful, calm, yet ever-shifting scene.
So would I spend my days — in meadows green.
AN UNUSUAL ADVENTURE
BY JULIA RICHMOND MELCHER (AGE 12)
(Silver Badge)
Our train was going at fifty-five miles an hour on a
high but very good stretch of track. We were eating-
dinner in my father's private car with two visitors. The
dining-room was at one end of the car, and was fur-
nished with eight heavy chairs and one table, besides
china, glass, and silverware. At one end there was a
sideboard and a writing-desk.
All of a sudden there was a great crash and rumble,
and the car slid down the bank and turned over on its
side. The next thing I knew, I was pulled up by one of
the guests, and saw my father take a chair and smash
the door. This was the only way we could get out.
We were all extremely surprised, and thankful to find
no one was killed.
After getting my mother out, we. went up the track
to a farm-house, where we had our few cuts bandaged.
The last three cars had also gone off the track, and
had turned over into the ditch, but no one was seriously
hurt.
Our belongings were soon gathered from the wreck,
and we were again on our way in a few hours.
IN MEADOWS GREEN
BY BRUCE T. SIMONDS (AGE 1 6)
(Honor Member)
In meadows green the Queen Anne's lace
Uplifts its head with royal grace ;
Above, with wings of blue and gold,
A swarm of butterflies, gay and bold,
In eddying circles wheel and race.
Come, seek with me a little place
Where Nature's hand we still may trace,
Where Beauty still has kept her hold,
In meadows green !
Forgetting there Life's maddening pace,
Far from all evil things and base,
Far from the world, so great and cold,
We shall, at last, find bliss untold,
Thus, hand in hand, and face to face,
In meadows green !
AN UNUSUAL EXPERIENCE
BY KENNETH HERSHEY (AGE 9)
It all happened a few days before Christmas, at one of
the big stores of Walla Walla. I went there to see
Santa Claus. They were also to give away Lincoln pen-
nies at a certain time.- I ran up onto the balcony where
the pennies were to be given out.
A big crowd was already there. Suddenly, with a
crash, the balcony broke down. I landed in a big pile
of tin pans, and everything was falling all around me.
Luckily I was not hurt a bit, though some of the chil-
dren were. I got up and ran out the back way, as they
had locked the front doors, and was soon safe with my
mother, none the worse for my unusual experience.
AN UNUSUAL EXPERIENCE
BY WINIFRED SACKVILLE STONER, JR. (AGE 9)
(Honor Member)
One beautiful day, last
October, when we were
living in California, I
went to spend the day at
Cawston Ostrich Farm.
This is a lovely spot
where tropical flowers
and trees grow, so
if ostriches appreciate
nature's beauties, they
may feast their eyes on
every side.
I became acquainted
with the guide during
my many visits to this
ostrich-haven, and when
I arrived, he gave me
a hearty welcome and
allowed me to feed
"Colonel" and "Mrs.
Roosevelt." The Colonel
was a veritable gour-
mand, and it was fun to
watch whole oranges sticking in his long neck and working
slowly down to where they dropped into his stomach.
As a great favor, the good guide also allowed me to
ride a gentlemanly ostrich named "Uncle Sam." At
first I had trouble sitting on his sloping back, but, by
grasping his wings, I found I could ride him easily.
L
IQI2.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
951
BY MARJORIE PITTMAN, AGE 14.
rrWMT* ii
'Mr
[**■' ' Z'
Jftft 1 r^g*a,<>'* ^^-
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. ' ' \: -. - ■
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BY FRANKLIN H. JERAULD, AGE 12. (SILVER BADGE.)
BY FANNY ELLSWORTH, AGE II. (SILVER BADGE.)
BY BETTY COMSTOCK, AGE 14. BY PAULL JACOB, AGE 17.
"THROUGH FIELDS AND LANES."
952
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[Aug.,
After a while, the guide went to a storehouse for
more oranges, and while he was gone, I forgot my
promise never to go near "St. Paul," a crusty old
bachelor.
I was standing near this crabbed fellow's corral, when
suddenly my hat was jerked from my head. A moment
later I saw St. Paul picking out the rhinestones from
its buckle. As you know, ostriches like to eat bright
stones.
When the guide returned, I begged him to rescue my
hat. This he did with some trouble, as St. Paul always
tried to kick any one entering his corral, and an ostrich
kick is worse than a mule kick.
When my hat was returned to me, I felt sad to see
its one-time shining buckle sans brilliants, but the guide
said I should be thankful I had not lost my eyes.
"AT WORK." BY MARGARET LEATHES, AGE II. (SILVER BADGE.)
IN MEADOWS GREEN
BY KATHERINE BAKER (AGE 12)
(Silver Badge)
In meadows green the lark lilts high,
Soft summer clouds are floating by,
And shy wild flowers lurk unseen
In meadows green.
Bright dragon-flies are overhead ;
Dame Nature's lavish hand hath spread
The beauties of the summer queen
In meadows green.
The hairy spiders' work is done,
And shining in the summer sun
Are soft gray webs of silver sheen
In meadows green.
For they, when strung with dewdrops bright,
That sparkle with a diamond's light,
Are fit to robe the fairy queen
In meadows green.
AN UNUSUAL EXPERIENCE
BY GRANVILLE B. SMITH (AGE l6)
(Silver Badge)
While I was on a ranch in California a few years ago,
I had several exciting experiences ; but the most un-
usual one was with a mountain-lion. These marauding
animals have often been known to steal poultry and
sometimes cattle, but very seldom to attack a man, ex-
cept when protecting their young.
My brother, sister, and I started out for a picnic
lunch in a grove of large oaks near our ranch. We were
about to unpack the basket of good things, when, to our
great surprise, a baby mountain-lion came bounding out
of a near-by thicket. As it was perfectly tame, we had
no trouble in catching it, and it did not mind our
caresses in the least. We were just trying to decide
what we should do with it, when we heard a dreadful
roar close at hand, and, on turning around, we beheld
a large lioness approaching us in big leaps. We dropped
the cub as if it had been a lighted bomb, and it did not
take us long to climb up a near-by tree.
The lioness made several futile leaps at us, but we
had climbed beyond her reach. Then she commenced to
walk around the tree, uttering fierce growls, and every
now and then tearing the bark off the tree with her
sharp claws. Finally, there was a roar, which was re-
peated three times, far up the mountain-side. At first
the lioness paid no attention to the call of her mate ;
but she answered the third call, and at the fourth, to
our great relief, she bounded off with her little cub
scampering at her heels.
When we were assured of her departure, we climbed
down, and, picking up the basket, we set off for home,
for we did not want to stay in such a dangerous vicinity
any longer.
TO-DAY AND— TO-MORROW
BY CHARLES B. MOORE (AGE 15)
(Silver Badge)
Thanksgiving has arrived at last.
There 's been prepared a grand repast.
'T is just this one day in the year
That Mother does not interfere.
So oysters, turtle soup, and fish,
Along with all that we could wish,
Of turkey, salad, and ice-cream,
We eat in quantities extreme,
And on the top of this we take
Plum-pudding with rich chocolate cake.
So we are most extremely gay,
And this is our Thanksgiving Day.
'AT WORK. BY WILI.ARD VANDER VEER, AGE 17.
(SILVER BADGE.)
To-morrow dawns, and we awake,
And, oh ! how our poor heads do ache !
It seems as though some unseen hand
Is pressing on a white-hot brand ;
But this is not the only place
Where yesterday has left its trace,
For from our feet up to our head,
We feel as if we 'd soon be dead ;
And since we are so awfully sick,
Our mother calls the doctor quick.
So then it 's his turn to be gay,
And this is his Thanksgiving Day.
igi2.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
953
MY FAVORITE RECREATION— AND WHY
BY FREDERICK REHM SCHMIDT (AGE 14)
{Silver Badge)
The little ball of hard rubber is a few feet from the
goal, a cup neatly nestling in the almost perfectly level
turf which extends for many paces around it. The
player carefully scans the distance from the ball to the
hole. See ! the little sphere is deftly hit by the player
with his putter. But look ! the ball strikes a small twig
in its course and misses the cup by a few scant inches.
AUGUST.
A HEADING FOR AUGUST. BY LOUISE GRAHAM, AGE 13.
Now the true spirit of the man who has missed the
shot is clearly revealed. If he has the slightest trace
of self-control and good-breeding, the player undoubt-
edly remains silent and does not expostulate. But if,
on the other hand, he has neither, his opponent very
soon sees an exhibition of his temper. In countless
other instances the character of the individual may be
easily ascertained.
All things considered, I personally think that golf is
the greatest outdoor game. Primarily it insures a
healthy mind and body, but develops as well one's rea-
soning power, good manners, and sometimes, if the
player has been correctly instructed as a beginner, even
develops character. Again, another strong point in its
favor is its universal appeal, for golf can be played from
early youth to old age- Name any other outdoor game
that has all these advantages, including the one last
named ! Therefore, considering the pleasure and phys-
ical benefits derived from the game, golf is my favorite
recreation and pastime — a subtle and fascinating sport.
Vol. XXXIX. -1 20.
TO-DAY AND— TO-MORROW
BY WINIFRED M. DODGE (AGE 13)
(Silver Badge)
TO-DAY
A little child is playing on the lawn ;
The sky above her is a deep, rich blue,
With just a tint of rose far in the east,
While on the grass there lingers sparkling dew.
The child is smiling, gazing overhead,
Laughing with pleasure at the lovely sight ;
The pretty flowers, nodding their fair heads ;
The sun just rising, a huge ball of light,
Which makes the dewdrops change to flashing gems ;
They seem like playthings to the child so fair ;
She plucks a blade of grass and shakes them off;
Once more her merry laughter fills the air.
TO-MORROW
A woman, old and gray, with sorrow bent,
Yet with a face serenely pure and calm,
Sits by the window, dreaming, pensive-eyed,
Of a dear long ago that seems to charm.
The sun is setting, casting a last glow
On her sweet face, which once was very fair ;
It lingers lovingly, as if to kiss
And lay a blessing on her silv'ry hair.
Which is the fairer? Long ago, or now?
For she was the sweet child, the laughing girl.
The first is like to crystal, clear and pure ;
The other of rich gold, inwrought with pearl.
AN UNUSUAL EXPERIENCE
BY CAROLYN MONEYPENNY (AGE 12)
{Silver Badge)
We were all asleep in the house, on a warm summer
night, dreaming perhaps very peaceably, when suddenly
"SOMETHING FUNNY." BY VIDA GRIMBLE, AGE 15.
(SILVER BADGE.)
I was awakened by our door-bell ringing. I jumped out
of bed quickly, went down-stairs like an amateur
heroine, and opened the front door. No one greeted me
except the stars, which blinked down at me. The bell
seemed to have no intention of stopping, and rang on as
though somebody's finger was laying on it.
954
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[Aug.,
I ran up-stairs again, and Father came down, half
dressed and very tired, as it was just one o'clock. He
went to the back door, but saw no one. It was certainly
a mystery, but soon the policeman, seeing our lights lit
at that unearthly hour, came and inquired what was
wrong.
Father told him, and they went on another hunt ;
down the cellar, out in the barn, all over the yard, and
finally came back to the house, unable to give any reason
for the ringing, as they had found no trace of any man.
We were all being deafened up-stairs, and were wish-
ing it would stop ringing ; but it kept right on, not paus-
AT THE GATE. BY MARGARET FOSTER, AGE 17.
(HONOR MEMBER.)
ing to rest. In about half an hour the policeman
chuckled and called Father into the kitchen. He pointed
to the battery, and showed him where one part had been
bent, and so caused the bell to ring. They fixed the
bent part, and the ringing ceased. Joy to us up-stairs !
To think that they hunted all over the house and yard
for a tramp or intruder, and never thought that the
battery could be the cause of it ; but, men are men !
TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW
BY GWYNNE A. ABBOTT (AGE 1 2)
{Silver Badge)
To-day I 'm just a little boy. I always go to school ;
I try to do my very best, and never break the rule.
But what I am most proud of is, that, acting like a man,
I never say, "I cannot," but I try to think I can.
To-morrow will be dawning soon. To manhood I '11
be grown ;
I want to be a hero with a name that will be known
Through all the world. I wish to be a brave and great,
good man,
To never say, "I cannot," but to think, perhaps, I can.
But as for my companions here, they laugh me quite
to scorn ;
"You never will a hero be when dawn to-morrow's
morn \"
But yet, although they say I will not be a great, good
man,
I never say, "I cannot," but I try to think I can.
I can if I do what is right, and always leave the wrong ;
I can if I try hard enough, and my desire is strong ;
And all through life's long struggle, I shall try to be a
man,
And never say, "I cannot," when I think, perhaps, I
can.
Except in times of evil, when to good we are not true,
In times when we are so perplexed we don't know what
to do ;
Then, when I 'm asked to do some wrong, I '11 answer
like a man,
And always say, "I cannot," even though I think I can.
So I shall base to-morrow on the ground I base to-day,
And always I '11 be careful in whate'er I do or say.
And when I 'm asked to do some good, I '11 answer,
like a man,
I '11 never say, "I cannot," when there is one chance
I can.
"AT THE GATE." BY ANNA LEE HAYNES, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)
THE ROLL OF HONOR
PROSE
Arthur Nethercot
Vida Bloede
William W. Ladd
Willie E. Money
Catharine Pittman
Thelma G. Williams
Vivian E. Hall
Harold Harris
Julien H. Bryan
Elizabeth Phillips
Ethel Mary Feuerlicht
Pauline Cozard
Frances D.
Pennypacker
Kathryn K. Dowdney
Cornelia S. Jackson
Edith Stein
Dorothy Hallett
Frances M. Ross
Edgar Gibbs
Herman M. Hoffman
Adelaide Hibbard
Hester R. Hoffman
Muriel W. Avery
James K. Angell
Charles G. Edwards
Fredrika W. Hertel
Wilma Varelman
Mary E. Levey
Mary M. Seymour
Helen Creighton
Margaret Cundill
Janet G. Banks
Ethel N. Pendleton
Knowles Blair
Elizabeth Turner
Carmen McKercher
Katharine Thomas
Hilda F. Gaunt
Edith L. Crounse
1912.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
955
L. Adrienne Evans
Sarah Davison
Edna L. Clay
Ruth Genzberger
Ellen C. Gary
J. Butler Wright, Jr.
Phoebe S. Lambe
Mildred H. Luthardt
Dorothy H. De Witt
Myrtle Doppmann
Jennie Mustapher
Katharine Keyes
Elizabeth Roberts
Naomi Lauchheimer
Anna Okeson
Anna L. Porter
Margaret E. Graham
Katharine Biggs
Marion Norman
Charlotte L. Bixby
Patrina M. Colis
Rebecca H. Wilder
Marjorie Trotter
Henry Van Fleet
Elsie Stevens
Ruth M. Morriss
Marion C. White
Arthur N. Moore
Ethel London
Nancy A. Fleming
Margaret C. Bland
Olga van S. Owens
Elsie Terhune
Beatrice Wormser
Mary Van Fossen
Anna Rimington
Louise Stockbridge
Mildred Bishop
Caroline Jeffress
Helen B. Bennett
Elizabeth Engster
Estelle M. Perham
Marie Kilborne
John M. Kleberg
Dorothy M. Rogers
Ruth E. McClive
Virginia Sledge
Eleanor S. Cooper
Ginerva King
Wm. B. Douglass, Jr.
Jean E. Freeman
Eleanor H. Fish
Katharine B. Nesmith
Bessie Sodersten
Helen Sheehan
Janet T. Tremaine
Juliet H. Rogers
Marian L. Ansbacher
Flora MacLaine
Cora Kane
Mary McRae
VERSE
Susan B. Sturgis
Edith Sturgis
Lucile H. Quarry
Doris R. Wilder
Bertha E. Walker
Eleanor M. Sickels
Nellie Adams
Thomas H. Joyce
Helen A. Monsell
F. Cleary Hanighen
Elise M. Mirkil
Madelaine Schreiber
Claire H. Roesch
Forest Hopping
Frank H. Stuerm
Helen R. Tolles
Constance Bowles
Lillie G. Menary
Eleanor Johnson
Emily Goetzmann
Eugenia B. Sheppard
Charlotte MacDougall
Alice M. Hamlet
George M. Enos
Lois Hopkins I
Kathryn Hulbert
Frances E. Burr
Dorothea Cronin
Harriett Peasley
Jean Knight
Virginia Job
Marion E. Stark
Marjorie Skiff
Stanley B. Reid
Marion F. Hayden
Bernard J. Snyder
Ellen L. Hoffman
Elizabeth Maclennan
Marguerite S. Pearson
Hazel M. Chapman
Ruth V. Hyde
Leonard Oliver
Ruth Stromme
Helen Clark
Alice Emge
Winifred Wood
Lucile Mayne
Mary Thayer
Frances C. Duggar
Mary V. Farrer
Fannie H. MacFadden
VeraB. Hall
Marian Shaler
Osie B. Loveless
Effie C. Ross
John Cregan
Sophie E. Woods
Elizabeth Waddell
DRAWINGS
Dorothy Hughes
Dorothy Calkins
Frank Leach
Rosella M. Hartmann
Jessie E. Alison
Geo. P. Lindberg
Reina Keefer
Jos. Leventhal
Marion C. Dinsmore
Ruth S. Strong
Walter K. Frame
Corydon Wheat
Rolf Ueland
E. Theodore Nelson
Katharine Reynolds
Frances Thomas
Margaret R. Bennett
Doris Grimble
Dorothy L. Todd
Victor Child
Dorothy Seligman
Elizabeth E. Sherman
Madeleine Utard
Horatio Rogers
Frank Paulus
Goldie Zucker
Harry Zitler
Terrence Gallagher
Earl A. Garard
Henry J. Neal
Miriam Lathe
Fred Malkmus
Eleanor W. Atkinson
Clarisse S. De Bost
Helen A. Baker
Welthea B. Thoday
Constance Andrus
Paul Detlefsen
Henrietta H. Henning
Margaret E. Hanecom
Vincent B. Logue, Jr.
Howard R. Sherman
John B. Hyatt, Jr.
Aroline A. Beecher
Homer Wallace
Agnes Smith
Raphael Blumenthal
Leo Peter. Gusto
Margaret L. Duggar
Henry Greenberg
Ethel Warren Kidder
Caleb D. Elliott
Cornelia Bird
Kedma Dupont
Marie Smola
Jane Abbott
Mildred Johnson
Kenneth Rickett
Gertrude Praster
Florence Stevenson
Mary Lauler
George Wintermute
John Lamey
Roy L. Olson
Catharine L. Clark
PHOTOGRAPHS
Charlotte White
Esther C. Lanman
Josephine Sturgis
Dorothy V. Tyson
Rosamond Sherwood
Robert Burgess
Gwendolen Hampsctn
Faith Morse
Russell Jones
Helen G. Farrell
Eleanor O. Doremus
Margaret Kohn
Earle W. Paylor
Dorothy Fischer
Helen M. Kingman
Alice Parker
Hazel Whalen
G. A. Lintner
Lois W. Kellogg
Virginia Nirdlinger
Robert Banks
Emeline A. W. Kellogg
Alice W. Hall
Katharine E. Beatty
Katherine L. Guy
Martha Robinson
Lavinia K. Sherman
Caroline Aber
Marion Pomeroy
Dorothy P. Richardson
Perry B. Jenkins
Marion Roos
Elizabeth C. Carter
Charles Bartow
Ruth Haey
Caroline F. Ware
M. Josephine Boyd
Herbert Weidenthal
F. A. Stenbuck
Elizabeth Cains
Elizabeth Hayes
Stuart W. Kellogg
Rachel Talbot
Esther L. Faulhaber
Dorothy von OIker
Dorothy Peabody
Eleanor E. Barry
Margaret Pratt
Kenneth Smith
Margaret Kew
Josephine G. Taylor
W. Robert Reud
Anne Ashley
Eric Henry Marks
Gladys E. Livermore
Esther R. Harrington
Marjorie Robarts
Marion H. Barbour
Grace Freese
Marion Henshaw
Elizabeth W. Reynolds
Junior Scruton
Mildred Dudley
J. A. Mathews
Stewart Kurtz
Robert Clark
Mary De Witt
Betty Humphreys
Margaret Dart
Jeannette C. Owens
Ruth Marshall
Edna Hauselt
Alberta Apple
Helen Jackson
James Moody
Katharine Eldred
Leigh Stoek
Elsie Nichols
Dorothy G. Schwarz
William B. Bacon
John L. Loomis
Marie Rupp
Warren Dodge
Elwood H. Gallien
Timothy E. Holden
PUZZLES
Duncan Scarborough
Frederick W. Fuess.Jr.
Carl Muckenhaupt
Le Roy A. MacColl
Edna F. Kaufmann
Helen Westfall
Jessie Wolf
Douglas C. Phelps
Robert U. Whitney
Katharine Jaeger
Brayton Blake
Beatrice S. Hecht
Margaret P. Hall
Ruth K. Gaylord
Rosemary Clarke
Verne Blankner
Ruth A. Ehrich
Edith Sloan
Nellie Adams
Hilda V. Libby
Fred. Klein
Doris R. Ulmann
Norman Howell
Hobart Goewey
S. C hern off
Louisa G. Wells
Harold Hawes
Elizabeth Wemple
Catharine M. Weaver
PRIZE COMPETITION NO. 154
The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings,
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasion-
ally, cash prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge win-
ners who shall, from time to time, again win first place.
Competition No. 154 will close August 10 (for for-
eign members August 15). Prize announcements will be
made and the selected contributions published in St.
Nicholas for December.
Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, "The Best Month of All."
Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Title to contain the word "Christmas."
Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "On the Road," or, "A
Good Listener."
Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, " My Favorite Subject; or, What I Like Best to
Draw," or a Heading for December.
Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an-
swer in full, and must be indorsed.
Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas.
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on
the first page of the "Riddle-box."
Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur-
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The
prizes in the "Wild Creature Photography" competition
shall be in four classes, as follows : Prize, Class A, a
gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold
badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge.
Prize, Class D, a silver badge. But prize-winners in this
competition (as in all the other competitions) will not
receive a second gold or silver badge. Photographs must
not be of "protected " game, as in zoological gardens or
game reservations. Contributors must state in a few words
where and under what circumstances the photograph was
taken.
Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re-
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed
and stamped envelop of the proper size to hold the manu-
script, drawing, or photograph.
RULES
Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not,
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who
has reached the age of eighteen years may compete.
Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied,
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the
number of words should also be added. These notes must
not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itself—
if manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, on the
margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper
only. A contributor may send but one contribution a
month — not one of each kind, but one only.
Address : The St. Nicholas League,
Union Square, New York.
BOOKS AND READING
BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE
THE SEA
August is here again, and the call of the sea
comes home to most of us. It is hard to tell
whether being in or on or beside it is the more
attractive. The best way is to manage to do all
three of these delectable things, and to do them
over and over again, right through the month.
What health and vigor, what freshness and
strength, the ocean has, and how generously it
bestows them on its lovers. A summer without
the sea is only half a summer, or so all of us who
have ever come to know it believe ; the very smell
of a tarry rope or a bit of seaweed will set our
hearts to thumping if we are far inshore, and all
the witchery of lake and river and mountain can
never entirely satisfy the children of the sea.
Since the beginning of time, too, the sea has
been associated with romance and adventure. It
has been a mystery, a danger, a lure. Mighty
battles have been fought upon it, and all the most
daring voyages have been across it or around it.
Pirates have plied their terrible but picturesque
trade all over its vast surface and among its
lonely islands. Wrecks have gone down in it, and it
has rocked open boats under the stars and sun
for agonizing weeks, mocking the dying crew
with the glitter of its deadly water, fencing them
from succor with the unbroken line of its horizon.
In ancient days, men fared forth upon the sea
in cockle-shell boats propelled by oars and sails,
getting along somehow, discovering new shores,
and meeting countless perils. Once home again,
they told great tales of their adventures, and
were looked upon with admiration as a brave and
hardy lot, whom nothing ashore could terrify ;
for they had faced the immeasurably more fear-
ful perils of the high seas, which only the strong-
est and most courageous could survive. Men
gathered about to hear what they had to tell, and
women gazed admiringly upon them as they
rolled along the street with a step that seemed
still to feel the monstrous heave of mighty waves.
As for the lads, not one of them but longed for a
sailor's life, and thought a ship's deck the finest
thing in the world.
Ever since those old times, sea- faring men have
told stories, or had stories told about them. And
some of these sea tales are the best there are,
with a swing and a go to them that set the pulses
flying. Even to-day there is a world of romance
and wonder left to the sea, and the life lived on
it is very different from life on land, however ad-
venturous that may be. Good books there are
that tell the stories for us now, since few of us
know a sailor who will spin a yarn at our re-
quest, more 's the pity ! And I thought I would
choose this hot month to speak of a few of these
books. And as the murmur of the waves haunts
the curved interior of a shell, so some of the
coolness and sweetness of the great ocean may
haunt my pages, put there by yourselves, how-
ever, as you read or listen, thinking of the long
fall of the waves on the beach, and the white
fury of the foam in a storm.
THE OCEAN'S STORY
A splendid book to begin with is Ernest Inger-
soll's "Book of the Ocean," for it tells the story
of the sea itself; of its caverns and measureless
deeps, its currents and tides; of the plants and
strange creatures who live in it— fish and ani-
mals, and the storms that fall upon it. Not only
does this book tell of the sea's own life, but also of
the many kinds of boats and ships men have used
to go forth on it, from the early galleys and
pinnaces and galleons through all the history of
the "hearts of oak," to the steamers and turbines
of our age of steel and iron. It is a most absorb-
ing story, told by a man who loves his subject,
and therefore well told. Few of us really know
anything definite of the sea and its history, and I
think all of you will be surprised to see how much
956
BOOKS AND READING
957
interesting and various information Mr. Inger-
soll has collected into this delightful volume.
SOME OLD STORIES
I 've already spoken, in other articles, of such
fine old sea stories as those by Whyte-Melville,
"Moby Dick" and "White Jacket," and Dana's
"Two Years Before the Mast." Then there is
Captain Marryat's splendid "Masterman Ready,"
which none of you should miss. It is one of the
best sea and wreck stories in the world. Full of
fun and adventure, full of the true sea life of
that day, with characters who will be your friends
through life, you will laugh and be thrilled all
the way out to that Pacific island where the ship
was wrecked, and until you and young Ready and
his companions are safe back once more.
Another excellent story by Marryat is "Mr.
Midshipman Easy." This was written for older
readers, but it is a favorite boys' book nowadays.
There are some delightful scenes and amusing
adventures in the West Indies in this book, be-
sides the life of the ship, and never were there
two merrier youngsters than Easy and his chum.
In the time when Marryat wrote, Cuba and
Jamaica were at the height of their prosperity,
and the planters lived on their plantations like
veritable princes. Both these books are rollick-
ing and jolly as Jack himself, and though there
is some moralizing, as was the old-fashioned
manner, there is not enough to spoil excellent
stories, such as these are.
Other old sea yarns are those by James Feni-
more Cooper, his "Sea Tales," and I pity the
boy or girl who misses reading them. They
are n't so well known as his Indian stories, yet
several of them are better. There was a lot of
privateering, and America was a great sea-power
in Cooper's day, and these stories are full of vivid
pictures and exciting adventures that show us
that past time in a romantic, stirring light, such
as Cooper loved.
A sea tale that is not exactly a story is Cole-
ridge's wonderful "Ancient Mariner." In this
poem there is something of the mystery and
magic and terror of the ocean. You feel its im-.
mensity, its loneliness, its power and cruelty, as
well as its beauty, while you read. A queer tale
it is, to be sure, ghostly and eery, but the ghosts
are sea-ghosts, as the Albatross of which the
Mariner tells is a sea-bird; and we all have to
listen to the end, like the Wedding Guest, while
the Mariner has his will with us.
SOME NEW STORIES
But there are as good stories in the sea as ever
came out of it, and this is proved by the stories
that are being told to-day. There are Frank T.
Bulletin, for instance, and Joseph Conrad's. I 've
told you before of Bullen's "Cruise of the Cache-
lot." That is a book you must certainly read,
but it is n't the only one. Bullen is a sailor, and
he knows how to write — which is true of Conrad,
too. Sailors always were yarn-spinners, and it 's
the same to-day. You cannot get a better yarn
than Bullen's "Frank Brown : Sea Apprentice,"
and its sequel, "The Call of the Deep." There
is another of this writer's stories that goes well
with these, "The Compleat Sea Cook," which
contains sketches of real seamen at work on ship
or at play, sometimes, unluckily, in trouble,
ashore. The first two books are specially written
for you youngsters, however, and you will be-
come sailors while you read them; you simply
can't help it, they are so vivid, so fascinating;
they put the sea and the ship so clearly before
you; take you voyaging, in fact, for you get
launched in these books precisely as you might
in a brig or a schooner. Oh, but it 's adventurous
and rough and sane and healthy, this life of the
sea, as Mr. Bullen tells .of it; hard, too, but manly,
and cramful of "doing things."
Mr. Conrad's books are, perhaps, too old for
you just now, and had better be kept to enjoy
later. There is a story of his called "Typhoon"
which you will read some day, however, and
never forget it, it gives such a marvelous impres-
sion of the actual occurrence. Both these sailor
writers have an extraordinary power for getting
the things they 've seen and experienced into
words, and so making their readers live the very
happenings' with them; and reading their books
is an adventure in itself.
Then there is another writer of the sea whom
I 've spoken of before, Howard Pyle. He was
an artist, and had precious little to do with the
sea himself, but he loved it, and he loved the
many stories of pirates which lie buried in old
musty manuscripts and records. He dipped his
pen into the very brine of old ocean when he
wrote of them ; his pages almost smell of the sea.
And what splendid adventures he tells us ! There
is his "Stolen Treasure." It is full of turbulent
buccaneers, who are up to mischief every minute,
if you can call their wild deeds by so mild a term.
Then there is "Jack Ballister's Fortune," a mag-
nificent mixture of sea and pirate and the Col-
onies, of kidnapping and England, brave acts and
wicked ones. Read it, and you '11 have a week of
glorious fun, and won't mind the hottest weather
August can manufacture, you '11 be so busy fol-
lowing Jack.
Frank Stockton wrote a good book about the
sea, "Buccaneers and Pirates of Our Coast,"
958
BOOKS AND READING
which will fit in finely with Pyle's. All the more
famous sea rovers are included in this delicious
book. You get some notion of how the pirates
themselves considered their "profession," for it
was a real business in its way. Kept within cer-
tain bounds, people regarded it as excusable, if
not precisely respectable. More than one pirate
retired on his fortune, and became a stout, kindly
old gentleman in his declining years.
Akin to the more law-abiding pirates, accord-
ing to the law of those wild days, were the pri-
vateers, and there is a book on them by Jessie
Peabody Frothingham, called "Sea Fighters from
Drake to Farragut." Of course many of the men
she writes of belonged to the regular Navy, but
whoever they were, all the stories are good, and
the roll-call of both men and ships in the volume
is a noble one. They were men it is good to hear
about, those old fighters of the sea, and the time
you spend in their society will be well spent. It
is not only the danger, and the daring and judg-
ment they show, it is something fine and simple
in their characters, that makes them lovable as
well as admirable; though a few were grim
enough, and fierce enough, more eager to meet
a foe than a friend.
One great sailor you ought to know about is
Captain Cook, and there is a story about his
wonderful voyages written by a naval man, Lieu-
tenant Charles R. Low. Three times he sailed
around the world, quite a feat a century ago, and
it is nearly that. The ports he stopped at were
some of them entirely unused to seeing a Euro-
pean ship, and many were his adventures with
foreign potentates and savage chiefs. He was a
very interesting man, and Lieutenant Low has
not missed any of the romance of the tale.
Charles Ledyard Norton is another sea-story
writer, mingling history with story, and most of
you are sure to enjoy his three books, "Jack
Benson's Log," "The Medal of Honor Man," and
"Midshipman Jack." They are set in Civil War
days, and give an excellent notion of the sea-
fights and seaways of that time, of the gallantry
of the men in the service, and the hardships they
experienced.
So here you are, with quite a shelfful of sea
tales to choose from. An old sailor I knew, and
a writer as well, Charles Warren Stoddard, who
had run away to sea when he was a boy, and
gone to the islands of the Pacific, where he lived
for a time with the savages, once told me no
book could ever describe the sea as it was to the
man who lived upon it. Perhaps not; but I be-
lieve these books I 've been telling you about
come pretty close to doing it— at any rate, they
are among the best reading on earth, and that is
a good deal.
EDITORIAL NOTES
We print this month a biographical sketch' of a unique
historical character, Charles George Gordon, that
strange combination of the dreamer and the man of
action whose brilliant career held much of grandeur
and came to such a tragic, solitary close when Khartum
was captured by the desert tribes, in 1885. The article
will appeal strongly to our older readers, and it has a
double interest for young and old because it was written
by a boy of sixteen — Hamilton Fish Armstrong, son of
Mr. D. Maitland Armstrong, the well-known artist.
Among the many responses received from League mem-
bers this month were two "storiettes" which we cannot
forbear giving to our readers, both because they are so
quaintly told, and because they came from two little
St. Nicholas readers in far-off Russia.
AN UNUSUAL EXPERIENCE
BY ELIZABETH LEONTIEFF (AGE 8)
I wanted to make an Easter present for my mother, so
I took a picture of one of Raphael's angels and glued it
on a round piece of cardboard. Around the edge of the
cardboard, I glued coffee-beans, and filled the other
space with millet. Then I gilded the coffee-beans and
the millet, and put the picture on top of a cupboard
where Mother could n't see it.
I took it down to look at it the next day, and I found,
to my great astonishment, that the angel had a mus-
tache. At first I did n't know where it came from, but
then I saw that it had come from the gold, which had
run over the angel's face. Of course I was sorry the
picture was spoiled, but it looked so funny that I
could n't help laughing.
If I ever see the real painting the angel was copied
from, I shall surely laugh very much, because I shall
remember how the angel looked with a mustache.
AN UNUSUAL EXPERIENCE
BY NICOLAS LEONTIEFF (AGE 9)
When I was a little chap five years old, my mother,
my aunt, my brothers and sisters and I, went to the
zoological garden to see the animals. We- went all
around the zoo, and sat down in front of the bears.
Suddenly a bear began to climb over the iron fence.
When we saw that, we were very frightened, and got
up and ran away as fast as we could. While we were
running away, a very hard rain began to fall. Luckily
we were near the house where butterflies were kept, so we
waited there for the carriage to come and take us home.
I don't know whether the bear really got out or not,
for I never heard any more about him.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER
Geographical Anagram. E Pluribus Unum. Cross-words: i.
England. 2. Persia. 3. Labrador. 4. United States. 5. Roumania.
6. Italy. 7. Belgium. 8. Uraguay. 9. Servia. 10. United States,
n. Norway. 12. United States. 13. Monaco.
St. Andrew's Cross. I. 1. C. 2. Sad. 3. Solar. 4. Caldron.
5. Daric. 6. Roc. 7. N. II. 1. N. 2. Set. 3. Stead. 4. Needles.
5. Talon. 6. Den. 7. S. III. 1. N. 2. Cat. 3. Cited. 4. Natures.
5. Terse. 6. Dee. 7. S. IV. 1. N. 2. Net. 3. Nomad. 4. Nem-
esis. 5. Taste. 6. Die. 7. S. V. 1. S. 2. Eon. 3. Eclat. 4.
Solicit. 5. Nacre. 6. Tie. 7. T.
Double Zigzag. Constitution. Old Ironsides. Cross-words: 1.
Crop. 2. Cool. 3. Node. 4. Asti. 5. Tire. 6. Fido. 7. Tune.
8. Puns. g. Toil. 10. Tied. 11. Obey. 12. Ants.
Fractional Capitals. Montgomery, Alabama. Sacramento, Phoe-
nix, Baton Rouge, Olympia, Salem, Denver, Cheyenne.
Musical Zigzag. Giuseppe Verdi, i-n, IlTrovatore; 12-17, Er-
nani; 18-26, Rigoletto; 27-30, Ai'da; 31-37, Macbeth; 38-48, Luisa
Miller; 4g-54, Nabuco; 55-63, Don Carlos; 64-71, Falstaff. Cross-
words: 1. Georgia. 2. Riddler. 3. Unusual. 4. Consort. 5. Salient.
6. Attempt. 7. Develop. 8. Scarlet, g. Bolivia. 10. Enfeoff. 11.
Abraham. 12. Adoring. 13. Illicit.
Double Acrostic. Major Andre. Nathan Hale. Cross-words:
1. Main. 2. Asia. 3. Jest. 4. Oath. 5. Rana. 6. Avon. 7. Noah.
8. Dora. 9. Reel. 10. Erie.
Illustrated Numerical Enigma.
tion, one destiny."
' One country, one constitu-
Concealed Square Word. i. Panic. 2. Atone. 3. Nomad. 4.
Inane. 5. Cedes.
Connected Central Acrostic. I. r. Dogma. 2. Opera. 3.
Parch. 4. Eerie. 5. Egypt. II. 1. Pecan. 2. Other. 3. Brain.
4. Resin. 5. Arena. III. 1. Times. 2. Irony. 3. Nerve. 4. Girls.
5. Tried". 6. Fusee. IV. 1. Syria. 2. Droop. 3. Dodge. 4. Tunic.
5. Ocean. 6. Drier. V. 1. Ephod. 2. Drays. 3. Ranch. 4. Paces.
5. Ghost. 6. Decoy. 7. Takes. VI. 1. Orbit. 2. Joust. 3. Meter.
Unite. 4. Tenet
Nomad
5. Ocean. 6. Drier. V. 1. Ephod. 2. Drays. 3. Ranch. 4. Paces.
5. Ghost. 6. Decoy. 7. Takes. VI. 1. Orbit. 2. Joust. 3. Meter.
4. Salty. 5. Greed. 6. Sorts. VII. 1. Sense. 2. S
4. Cases. 5. Evoke. 6. Lines. VIII. 1. Ropes.
-. Sense. 2. Spend.
5. Evoke. 6. Lines. VII"
"enet. 5. Chess. IX. 1. Stain
5. Issue.
3. Calls
opes. 2. Stage. 3
Cedar. 3. Pearl. 4
To our Puzzlers: Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 10th of each month, and should be
addressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth Street, New York City.
Answers to all the Puzzles in the May Number were received before May 10 from Elizabeth Goldbeck — Ferris Neave — Arnold
Guyot Cameron — Harry Guthmann — Theodore H. Ames — Elsie K. Reid — " Queenscourt " — Catherine G. Ames — Thankful Bickmore — Mary
O'Connor — " Marcapan " — -Judith Ames Marsland — Lois R. Fowler — Ernest S. Crosby — Helen Wouters — William D. Woodcock.
Answers to Puzzles in the May Number were received before May 10 from Claire Hepner, 9 — Philip Franklin, 9 — ." Claire and Jean," 9 —
Alexander C. Bartley, 9 — Dorothea Morelock, 9— Harmon B., James O., and Glen T. Vedder, 9 — Margaret B. Silver, 9 — "Dixie Slope," 9 —
Edith H. Baumann, 9— Marion L. Hussey, 9— Vivian Sauvage, 9 — Frances D. Etheridge, 8 — Blanche Baumann, 8 — George S. Cattanach, 8 —
Frederick W. Van Home, 8 — Guy R. Turner, 7 — Gladys S. Conrad, 7 — Marjorie A. Ward, 6 — Henry Seligsohn, 6 — Edward C. Heyman, 5 —
Horace B. Davis, 5 — Eleanor O'Leary, 5 — Kate Menendez, 4 — Ruth Dorchester, 3 — Leonard Kimball, 3 — Helena Braun, 2.
Answers to one Puzzle were received from P. R. B. — A. M. B. — K. G. C. — C. O.
C— C. H. S., Jr.
-M. M.— E. M. P.
L. B.—A. M. P.— N. B.
STEP PUZZLE
{Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competit
II
I. Top
side: 1.
sence.
on)
III
A blackbird. Left side
To gaze. 2. Tessellated.
4. An insurgent. 5. A
1. A vapor. Right
3. The fact of ab-
Roman magistrate.
Front: 1. Apertures. 2. Boundary. 3. A Greek letter.
4. A fierce animal. 5. To look earnestly at.
II. Left side: 1. Wanders. Right side: 1. Concise.
2. A South African antelope. 3. Swift. 4. A game
bird. 5. An interlacing line of osiers along the top of a
hedge. Front: 1. To send back. 2. A select body. 3.
One who digs for metals. 4. Articles. 5. Elegantly
compact.
III. Left side: 1. To cook by exposure to heat.
Right side : 1. The backbone of an animal. 2. Part of a
door. 3. Daubed with writing fluid. 4. An obsolete
word for a needle. 5. Senior. Front: 1. Cries aloud.
2. The deck of a ship where the cables were coiled. 3.
The fact of absence. 4. A bird. 5. A thorn.
PHILIP FRANKLIN (age 13).
DOUBLE ACROSTIC
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below
another, the primals will spell the name of a famous
writer, and the finals the name of an American hero,
both of whom were born in August.
Cross-words: i. A sweet substance. 2. Used by an
Indian. 3. Opposite. 4. A small candle. 5. A candy.
george h. mcdonald (age 15), League Member.
9Sg
960
THE RIDDLE-BOX
A KOYAL ZIGZAG
Each of the nine pictured objects may be described by
a word of five letters. When written one below the
other, the zigzag, beginning with the first letter of the
first word, will spell the name of a famous queen.
GEOGRAPHICAL NOVEL ACROSTIC
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below
another, one row of letters, reading downward, will spell
the name of a modern explorer, and the primals will
spell the name of his most famous discovery.
Cross-words : i. A city of ancient Greece. 2. A city
of Canada. 3. An island and bay southwest of Alaska.
4. A former tributary of the Thames. 5. A large island
off the coast of China. 6. A range of mountains in
Greece. 7. A seaport of Russia. 8. A town in Beira,
Portugal. 9. A town in the Department of Saone-et-
Loire, France.
dorothy b. goldsmith (age 14), League Member.
DOUBLE BEHEADINGS
Example : Doubly behead a musical drama, and leave a
period of time. Answer, Op-era.
In the same way doubly behead: i. Figures of speech,
and leave uncloses. 2. To involve, and leave part of a
bird. 3. A garment fabric, and leave a natural covering.
4. To deliver a sermon, and leave every one. 5. To
enroll, and leave slant to one side. 6. Comfort, and
leave a kind of trimming. 7. The finding of anything,
and leave above.
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and written in order one
below another, the primals of each set of words will
spell the name of a famous play.
eugene scott (age 1 4), Honor Member.
WORD-SQUARE
1. Small craft. 2. Made of a kind of meal. 3. To ex-
piate. 4. Strained. 5. An unlovely thing.
nellie adams (age 13), League Member.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA
I am composed of fifty-three letters and form a quota-
tion from "Macbeth."
My 3 1-43-7-2 1-45-49 is a planet. My 23-6-36-28-
38-24-50 is reflection. My 35-2-52-18 is to wander.
My 15-10-37-32-46 is what many wish to be. My 41-
48-30-22 is a crowd. My 17— 1—42 comes in winter.
My 9-27-16 is a kind of bed. My 2 6- 12-2 0-8-3 4- 19-2 9
grows in Scotland. My 1 1-53-33-39 is a fable. My
13-4-14-51-44-5 is a tract of low land.
Helena a. Irvine (age 12), League Member.
MUSICAL CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES
gp^fe^tj=^#=^
j-T r J \r JThr I ,; I lj r J f
<^r J rrirrrnrr j^ij-g^
i^rrrrirrr i\m£=$MH^
* * * *
* * * * * * * *
* * * *
* * * * ,
*****
* * * *
Each of the above lines forms
a four-letter word-square, each
measure containing a word. The
four word-squares thus formed
can be united as shown in the
diagram.
EDITH PIERPONT STICKNEY
(age 13), Honor Member.
PI
Het shelcuekyon yb eth rhopc si estew,
Nad siyon eseb nigw on form lobom ot omolb,
Lufl hotal ot vaele, orf onedry nislswde etha,
Eht hdeas dan sloscone fo teh trafganr mogol.
PRIMAL ACROSTIC AND ZIGZAG
Each of the words described contains five letters.
When rightly guessed and written one below another,
the primals, and the zigzag through columns five and
four will each spell the name of a character in Tenny-
son's poems.
Cross-words : i. To sneak. 2. An architectural or-
der. 3. A product of turpentine. 4. A measure. 5. A
Greek letter. 6. To acquire knowledge. 7. To turn
aside. 8. An English town on the Strait of Dover.
9. A good-by. 10. A marriage portion.
helen a. moulton (age 15), League Member.
THE DE VINNE PKESS, NEW YORK.
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
A Real Family Picnic
Father and Mother will arrive in a moment
or two. They are taking the lunch baskets
out of the wagon. But the children
wouldn't trust Father and Mother to bring
Peter's Milk Chocolate
They brought that themselves.
Father expects to go fishing a little later, and
he has got an extra supply of PETER'S in
his kit that the children know nothing about.
The best lunches sometimes fail to satisfy,
but PETER'S CHOCOLATE, the food and
candy combined, always pleases everybody.
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
START BY
THE PACKAGE
YOU 'LL END
BY THE
BOX!
Every package has five sticks — every box
has twenty packages of this real enjoyment
that whitens teeth — purines breath — aids
appetite — but does not burden digestion.
BUY
IT
BY
THE
BOX
It costs less—
of any dealer
Look for the spear
The flavor lasts
10
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Yes, thanks,
I'm quite well.
"Wouldn't know
me? Well, I hardly
know myself when
I realize the superb
comfort of well- bal-
anced nerves and per-
fect health."
"The change began
when I quit coffee
and tea, and started drinking
POSTUM
"I don't give a rap about the theories; the com-
fortable, healthy facts are sufficient."
"There's a Reason" for Post am
Postum Cereal Company, Limited,
Battle Creek, Mich., U.S.A.
Canadian Postum Cereal Co., Ltd.
Windsor, Ontario, Canada
II
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Through
Sleeping
Cars to
Gardiner
Gateway
daily
during
season
Northern
Pacific
is the
only line
to the
Official
Entrance
Visit
Yellowstone Park
Season 1912: June 15 to Sept. 15
<J You ought, by all means, to see this great Wonderland.
IJ Geysers, hot and mineral springs, emerald pools, mud volcanoes, cataracts, canyons, beasts,
birds and fish — verily there is no place like it in all the world. A magnificent 143-mile coach-
ing trip over Government-kept boulevards, pleasantly broken by stops in superb hotels where
the service is equal to the best resorts in America. For the Season of 1911 a new, enormous
and beautiful hotel was opened at the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. You should plan
to spend a month there. The cost is moderate — you will never regret it.
•J Low fares to Yellowstone Park and North Pacific Coast during the Summer. Specially
low Convention Fares on certain dates. Ask about them.
•J Send 6c. in stamps for the handsome book reproduced above — the best book on the Park
ever published, easily worth a dollar — and full particulars about the Park trip. Clip the slip
and send it to
Northern Pacific Ry
A. M. CLELAND, General Passenger Agent, St. Paul
YELLOWSTONE PARK AND NORTH PACIFIC COAST COUPON
(attach three "two'i")
Name_
Address-
12
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
All Games and Good Times are more
fun for the boy with a
BROWNIE
This camera works just like its cousin, the Kodak. The same
men who make the Kodaks make the Brownies, in the Kodak fac-
tories. That's why they are so well made and so easy to use. Of
course the Brownies are all by daylight cameras and any boy can
develop his own films in the Brownie developing box.
BROWNIES, $1.00 to $12.00.
EASTMAN KODAK COMPANY,
Your dealer ivill give or ive uaill send
free copy of Brownie Book.
ROCHESTER, N. Y., The Kodak City.
13
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
O
K C° ft*
*"\ T
tbA
' 3>
e u i
P
St. Nicholas Wireless Dispatches.
14
(See also pages 16 and 20.)
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
The "Good Old Bicycle Days"
Making a Tire — Fifth Article
By Harry Davis
IN this article I am going to give you the final details in the actual putting together of a single-
tube bicycle tire. Since we began this tour of one of the United States Tire Company's
large factories, we have seen rubber transformed from its crude state into the mixed stock
which goes into tires, and in turn have watched this mixed stock and cotton cloth associated to
produce frictioned fabric. I told you all about this frictioning process in my last article.
We now have the frictioned cloth cut into
strips and ready for the tire builders.
Before we go into the finishing touches of
tire building, let me ask you to study carefully
the illustration accompanying this article. The
picture shows the "drum" upon which tires
are made.
In starting to build a tire the operator takes
a strip of inner-tube stock, stretches it out on
his table, and cuts it to the proper length. He
then secures a length of the frictioned fabric,
lays on the strip of inner-tube stock, and rolls
the two together. He next lifts this strip over
to the drum, which you see pictured, laying
the frictioned fabric next to the drum, and the
inner tube face up.
The strip is brought around the drum, and
the ends are joined together by vigorous rolling
with the wheeled tool which you observe in the
hands of the operator. The builder next finds
the proper place to punch a hole for the valve,
through which is inserted the valve stem cot.
Everything now is in readiness to fasten the
edges of the tire together and bring it into
tubular form.
One edge of the strip is rolled over, after
which both edges are thoroughly cleaned with
The edges are next brought together and we
DRUM ON WHICH TIRES ARE BUILT UP
naphtha to remove all dirt and finger marks
have the foundation for a single-tube tire. But the tire must be stronger than it already has
been made, and this is accomplished by adding additional plies of fabric, one on top of an-
other, until it is a complete tire. The number of fabric plies depends upon the load the tire is
expected to carry.
After the last ply has been rolled into position, the tire is thoroughly inspected and a small
quantity of water is put into it.
The tire is then sent to the vulcanizing room to be cured. Here it is placed in a mold, put
in a press (which is really a big oven), and subjected to heat for a few minutes, in order to bring
about the proper association of rubber, mineral compound, and fabric. After the tire has been
baked it is reinspected, and if found to be perfect, is trimmed and sent to the stock room.
When the tire is placed in the mold, the water which has been run into it turns into steam
and holds the walls of the tire out against the mold. This is the way the necessary internal
pressure is obtained during the vulcanizing process.
Following the finished tire to the stock room we find rows and rows of tires— enough to equip
thousands of bicycles — ready for shipment. The United States Tire Company ships bicycle
tires to all parts of the civilized world.
After reading this series of articles you probably are convinced that there is more of a story
to your tires than you ever imagined. From the time crude rubber reaches the factory, every
step in its treatment must be a perfect one or your tires will not wear the way they should.
The slightest defect discovered in a tire by one of the United States Tire Company's experts is
sufficient cause to send it to the scrap-heap.
The care shown in their manufacture probably explains why United States Tires are so pop-
ular with bicyclists the world over.
15
St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. 128.
Time to hand in a?iswers is up August 10. Prize-winners announced in October number.
The Judges wonder whether any of
you have yet discovered that the
schools are closed and have wondered
how it has come about? To any who
may have been puzzled by this, we
hasten to explain that this is the Va-
cation season, so called because the
schools are vacated. We are reliably
informed that the schools will not re-
quire the attendance of their pupils
again until the Fall.
Knowing that this cessation of
study on the part of those of you who
prefer to work all the time must leave
you with much unoccupied time on
your hands, the Judges have arranged
for this month a pleasant little contest
designed to take the place of a few of
those studies you have so regretfully
laid aside.
You will observe that the diagram
herewith printed is a sort of plan, and
represents the " St. Nicholas Wire-
less Station " in the act of sending out
the names of certain things that have
been advertised in its pages in recent
issues. It may seem to you at first
sight that the despatches are rather
confusing ; but we are convinced that
a little examination of the plan will
show you that the letters are arranged
in such a manner that you will be able
to read them with ease if you will
bear in mind the varying strengths of
wireless messages sent. This hint
ought to show you how to solve the
puzzle.
When you have found out how to
read the names, write them correctly
as they appear in the advertisements,
put them in alphabetical order, and
number them — there are seventeen in
all — and you will have solved the
puzzle.
(See also page
As the puzzle itself is not a hard
one, we ask you also to submit with
your answers a short letter on the
subject, "What I Would Like to See
Advertised in St. Nicholas, and
Why."
The prizes will be awarded to the
senders of the most correct sets of
answers, the letter being considered
where competitors seem equally de-
serving.
One First Prize, $5.00 to the one who sub-
mits a correct list and most interesting letter.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each to those who
submit correct lists and next most interesting
letters.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each to those who
submit correct lists and next most interesting
letters.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each to those who
submit correct lists and next most interesting
letters.
Here are the rules and regulations:
1. This competition is open freely to
all who may desire to compete, without
charge or consideration of any kind.
Prospective contestants need not be sub-
scribers for St. Nicholas in order to com-
pete for the prizes offered.
2. In the upper left-hand corner of your
paper give name, age, address, and the num-
ber of this competition (128).
3. Submit answers by August 10, 191 2. Use
ink. Do not inclose stamps.
4. Do not inclose requests for League
badges or circulars. Write separately for these
if you wish them, addressing St. Nicholas
League.
5. Be sure to comply with these conditions
if you wish to win prizes.
6. Address answers : Advertising Competi-
tion No. 128, St. Nicholas League, Union
Square, New York.
s 14 and 20.)
16
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
CORN STARCH
Standard since 1848
DELICIOUS ice-cream made at home— a real
treat for all and a pleasing satisfaction to
the housewife who serves it. To make
sure of the smooth-grained and firm ice-cream that molds
nicely and dishes well, follow this recipe :
lgsford's Ice-Cream — Sift together one half cup sugar, one half teaspoonful
one level tablespoonful Kingsford's Corn Starch. Add one pint milk and stir
over hot water till it thickens. Cover and cook twelve minutes,
stirring occasionally. Into one half cup sugar gradually beat the yolks
of three eggs already beaten. Stir into the hot mixture, and keep on
stirring till it thickens. Pour into freezer when cold, flavor
to taste and add one pint cream, and freeze as usual.
To guard against disappointment, use Kingsford's
wherever corn starch is required — in Blanc Mange,
Pastries, etc. Ordinary corn starch will not give the
results you desire.
Send your name on a post-card for Cook Book "D"
— 1 68 of the best recipes free.
T. KINGSFORD & SON
National Starch Co., Suc'rs.
Oswego, N. Y.
CLOTHES pure white and crisp — lin-
gerie waists dainty and light — fine
undergarments satin finished and
pliable — these are the results you get with
Good washing alone won't produce them.
Cheap bulk starches will stiffen a fabric, but
they often leave telltale spots and stains.
Kingsford's, the pure natural lump starch, is
perfectly clean — used by careful house-
wives for three generations. Insist that
the dealer send it. Direct the laundress
to use it.
Sold in i lb., j lb., and 6 lb. boxes.
T. KINGSFORD & SON
National Starch Co., Suc'rs. Oswego, N. Y.
17
ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE
CHINA
WHY is a stamp-collector a little prouder of a
stamp from China than from anywhere else ?
We do not know ; but the fact remains that the
ownership of a stamp from China gives one more
innate satisfaction than can be obtained by the pos-
session of several from any other country. When
showing to our friends the stamps we have from
China, we always wear a pleased expression.
It was to be expected that the success of the recent
political upheaval in the country of our choice would
find some expression in its postage-stamps. The
stamps of the last issue have been surcharged or
over-printed with four Chinese characters down the
middle of the stamp. On some values we have seen,
the surcharge is in red ; on others in black. The
characters of the over-print are "Chung Hua Min
Kuo," which mean Chinese Republic, or, more liter-
ally, "Middle Flowery Peoples State." This last
definition is on the authority of the monthly pub-
lication of one of our advertisers. Doubtless there
will soon appear a regular issue for the republic.
Meanwhile, we all should try to get a few specimens
of this provisional issue.
PENALTY ENVELOPS
A READER of the Stamp Page sends us a query as
to the meaning and use of "penalty envelops."
This term is not purely philatelic. The so-called
penalty envelops or wrappers are those furnished by
the Government to be used by its employees in the
despatch of strictly official business. They represent
one of the phases of postal service which is per-
formed by the post-office without remuneration, and
are used in one form or another in all of the various
executive branches of the Government. In the Post-
Office Department, in the routine business of the
Supreme Court, in the Army and Navy, the State
and Agricultural Departments, the Weather Bureau,
the Pension Office, the Geological Survey, and so on
down the line to the smallest branches of public ser-
vice, are found in use these "penalty envelops."
They are used by a large number of people, and in
many, many ways. They get their name from the
fact that in the upper right-hand corner they bear
a printed notice which calls attention to the fact that
such envelops are for official use only, and that a
penalty of three hundred dollars will be imposed for
their use on mail of a personal nature. This notice
is usually printed in black in an oblong frame, but
sometimes it is in ornamental form with an eagle in
the center. This latter device has been seen printed
in blue. The envelops and wrappers are in all sizes
and in several kinds of paper. As no charge is made
for transporting this mail, no value appears upon the
envelop or wrapper.
In addition to what we have above described,
there is now in use another and somewhat similar
official envelop. Although it bears no prohibitory
notice, yet it is intended strictly for official use, and
would probably be subject to the same penalty as the
others. This envelop is for the new Postal Savings
Department, — the only branch of the National Gov-
ernment which uses postage-stamps. It is in appear-
ance much like the common two-cent envelop, — an
oval stamp embossed in red with a value of two
cents. The Postal Savings envelops are much sought
for by collectors, while the ordinary penalty envelops
are seldom collected.
The penalty envelops and the privilege of using
them must not be confused with that other un-
remunerative branch of the postal service known as
the franking system. The franking right, or cour-
tesy, is extended to the President and Vice-Presi-
dent, to senators and representatives, and to a few
others — individuals and institutions. It does not
require the use of penalty envelops. The possessor
of the privilege simply writes, stamps, or prints his
name upon the letter or package.
Congress has also conferred upon the widows of
all Presidents the right to use the frank, in such
instances the privilege to cover not only their, out-
going, but their incoming, mail. It is enjoyed by
Mrs. Garfield, Mrs. Cleveland, and Mrs. Harrison.
ANSWERS TO QUERIES
JII'T^HE meaning of the words "essay" and "proof"
Til X is rather technical. We will suppose that
some nation desires a new issue of postage-stamps.
Its officials first ask for designs for such an issue.
Sometimes prizes are offered for the best designs.
The designs that seem most promising are then en-
graved on dies and printings made from these dies.
These printings are made while the die is incom-
plete, as well as after it is completed. Printings
from incomplete dies show the different stages of the
work as it progresses. Often the central portion of
the design is on a separate die. These two kinds of
printings, incomplete and complete, if made from a
design which is finally rejected, are called "essays" ;
if they are made from a design which is accepted,
they are called "proofs." Both essays and proofs
are made in many colors for each value. Printings
in the rejected colors are called "trial colors," the
others "accepted colors." These printings also come
on various kinds of papers, as gold-beaters' skin,
India, cardboard, etc. Great care is always taken in
printing essays and proofs, and they usually show
clear-cut designs and brilliant coloring, f] The larg-
est and most valuable collection of stamps in the
United States is doubtless the one owned by George
H. Worthington, of Cleveland, Ohio. Probably no
one knows its real value, but it is usually estimated
to be worth about one million dollars. Needless to
say, it contains nearly all of the great rarities.
<fl The most valuable collection of stamps of the
United States is not in this country. It is in Eng-
land, and is the property of the Earl of Crawford.
Not only is it rich in the accepted varieties, but it
shows a wonderful range of shades of all values and
kinds. Moreover, it is said to contain the most im-
portant collection of essays and proofs ever made.
A collector who was an employee of the American
Bank Note Company had unusual facilities for get-
ting essays and proofs, and his collection is now
incorporated with that of the Earl of Crawford.
<J The third query as to the largest collection in the
world is readily answered : Count Ferrary of France
is the owner of this. The collection is said to be
exceedingly large ; its value is unknown, but rumor
has it that several clerks are employed to care for it.
1
18
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY
rT»ISITINFNTAI STAMP ALBUM, only
V^l_/1> I 11>II11> 1 F\L. i0c> 8x5 inches, heavy
cardboard covers, 160 pictures. Spaces for 546 stamps from
135 countries.
SPECIAL BARGAINS
108all different stamps from Paraguay, Turkey, Venezuela,
etc., 10c. 35 different stamps from Africa, a dandy packet,
25c. Finest approval sheets, 50% commission. Send
for big 84-page price-list and monthly stamp paper free.
Scott Stamp & Coin Co.
127 Madison Ave. New York City
TAKE NOTICE
U. S. Envelopes cut square at 50% discount, each one correctly
numbered.
NEW DIME SETS
4 Ecuador 1899, 2 Nyassa 1901, 4 Nyassa Rep. 1911, 5 Portugal
Rep. 1910, 5 Japan (China) 1900-08, 4 Finland 1885, 7 Portugal
1910, 5 Finland 1882, 6 Nicaragua 1912. 1912 Price List free.
Best Hinges. Ideal 15c. per 1000. Ideal Jr. 10c. per 1000.
New England Stamp Co.
43 Washington Building Boston, Massachusetts
STAMP ALBUM with 538 genuine stamps, incl. Rhodesia,
/?3Ejfe\ Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania (landscape),
/ra^ffin Jamaica (waterfalls), etc., only 10c. 100 dif. Japan,
(It JH India' N- zld> etc-> 5c- Agents wanted 50%. Big Bar-
\Km9Jwl gain list, coupons, etc., all Free! We Buy St. imps.
\wSfs*' C. E. Hussman StampCo., Dept. I, St. Louis, Mo.
RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
/£Sr3j\ with Catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents. If possiblesend
/2j2f%3m names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special
(■{ jli| offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
Hif lie; 40 Japan, 5c; 100 U. S., 20c; 10 Paraguay, 7c; 17
\*3«*y Mexico, 10c.;20Turkey,7c.;10 Persia, 7c; 3 Sudan, 5c;
^sSS^ lOChile, 3c;50 Italy, 19c;200 Foreign, 10c; 10 Egypt,
7c; 50 Africa,24c; 3 Crete, 3c; 20 Denmark, 5c; 20 Portugal, 6c; 7
Siam, 15c; 10 Brazil, 5c;7 Malay, 10c; 10 Finland, 5c; 50 Persia,
89c;50Cuba, 60c; 6 China, 4c; 8 Bosnia, 7c. Remitin Stamps or
Money-Order. Fine approval sheets 50% Discount, 50 Page List
Free. Marks Stamp Company, Dept. N.Toronto, Canada.
d Apr A INS EACH SET s cents.
D^VIWi^Vll^J 10 Luxembourg ; 8 Finland ; 20 Sweden ;
15 Russia ; 8 Costa Rica ; 12 Porto Rico ; 8 Dutch Indies ; 5
Crete. Lists of 6000 low-priced stamps free.
Chambers Stamp Co., Ill G Nassau Street, New York City.
different Confederate State bills, 15c
L. Toupal Co., Dept. 55, Chicago Heights, III.
VARIETIES PERU FREE.
With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N. Y.
WE WISH NO DULL SEASON
and during the months from June 1st to Sept. 1st will give 66§%
commission on our regular 60% sheets. One thousand mixed
stamps and 10 varieties catalogued at 20c for 12c, accompanied
by our approval sheets. References, please.
Palm Stamp Co.
249 No. Carondelet St. Los Angeles, Cal.
STAMPS I CHEAP! 333 GENUINE FOR-
Olrtmi J. e;gn Missionary stamps, 5c. 100
foreign, no two alike, incl. India, Newfoundland, etc.,
only 5c 100 U. S. all diff., scarce lot, only 30c 1000
fine mixed, 15c Agts. wtd., 50%. List free. I buy
stamps. L. B. Dover, D-6, St. Louis, Mo.
SNAPS 200 ALL DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS
«*^*»* >J for only 10c 70 All Dif. U.S., including old issues
of 1853-1861, etc. ; revenue stamps, $1.00 and $2.00 values, etc., for
only 10c. With each order we send our 6-page pamphlet, which
tells all about " How to make a collection of stamps properly."
Queen City Stamp & Coin Co., 7 SintonBldg.,Cincinn ati, O.
STAMPS FREE, 100 ALL DIFFERENT.
For the names of two collectors and 2c postage. 20 different
foreign coins, 25c. Toledo Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio, U.S.A.
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STAMPS 105 China, Fjrypt.etc, stamp dictionary and list 3000 (JSI
bargains 2c. Agts., 50%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. !Hl
FRFF ^ different stamps to all sending for my approval
* *" ■■ - books at 50 to 6655 per cent, discount. Reference
required. B. Elmer, 345a Washington St., Boston, Mass.
SPOT PASI-I PA in F°R OLD STAMPS on
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It Rocks While You Ride
The PONYCYCLE
Latest and best
out of door toy for
boys and girls.
Affords healthful
exercise and
amusement the
year round.
Can be used
indoors as Hob-
by Horse. Sent
prepaid direct to
you on receipt of
SWENDER PATENT ^^A^ factory price.
Made in Five styles, Three sizes each. Style "Billy," like cut,
for child 2 to 4 years, $5.50 prepaid and guaranteed.
Send for free booklet
A. W. SWENDER CO., 1007 Papin St., St. Louis, U. S. A.
THE AGASSIZ ASSOCIATION
Sound Beach, Connecticut
For Adults as well as Young Folks.
Arcadia: Sound Beach, Connecticut.
Near to the Heart of Nature.
Seashore, Suburbs, and Country.
In Education and Recreation.
Send 10c. for " The Guide to Nature "
for Adults, Giving Full Particulars.
PATRONIZE the advertisers who use ST.
NICHOLAS— their products are known to
be worthy of your attention.
AYVAD'S WATER=WINQS
Learn to Swim by /TJj For Sale Everywhere
One Trial
Plain, 25c.
Fancy, 35c.
AYVAD MAN'F'G CO., Hoboken.N. J.
Educate Your Child
at Home
Under the direction of
CALVERT SCHOOL, Inc.
( Established jgg? )
A unique system by means of which chil-
dren from kindergarten to 12 years of age
may be educated entirely at home by the best
modern methods and under the guidance
and supervision of a school with a national
reputation for training young children. For
information write, stating age of child, to
THE CALVERT SCHOOL, 14 Chase St., Baltimore, Md.
V. M. HILLYER, A.B. (Harvard), Headmaster.
19
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
REALLY DELIGHTFUL
Sije J9aint|> ttjmt £oben^
The singer's tones are
more dulcet, the speak-
er's voice more clear,
when Chiclets are used
to ease and refresh the
mouth and throat. The re-
finement of chewing gum for
people of refinement. It's the
peppermint — the true mint.
Look for the Bird Cards in
the packages. You can secure
a beautiful Bird Album free.
For Sale at all the Better Sort of Stores
5c. the Ounce and in 5c, 10c, and 25c. Packets
SEN-SEN CHICLET
COMPANY
Metropolitan Tower
New York
1 4w*t»
Report on Advertising Com-
petition No. 126
The Judges were agreeably
pleased at the quality of the an-
swers to Competition No. 126,
and the interest shown in the
subject of pets. We are more
than ever convinced that pet an-
imals are in many ways valuable
in almost every home, and it
was quite interesting to read the
prominent places pets occupy in
the lives of the children.
This month the following are
prize-winners :
One First Prize, $5.00 :
Josephine R. Carter, age 1 1, New Jersey.
Two Second Prises, $3.00 each :
Gertrude Fitzgerald, age 13, Michigan.
Louise Gram Hansen, age 20, Norway.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each :
Harry Pardee Keller, age 14, Pennsyl-
vania.
Dorothy Williams, age 12, Texas.
Ethel L. Cornell, age 19, New York.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each :
Arthur V. Hay, age 14, Texas.
Walter E. Halvosa, age 14, Massa-
chusetts.
Margaret Ely, age 13, Connecticut.
Marion Chapman, age 13, New York.
Bernard Boggis, age 13, Michigan.
Leland Hume, age 15, Mississippi.
Mildred A. Hubbard, age 16, Massa-
chusetts.
Eleanor Ball, age 10, Washington, D. C.
Marjorie Sanborn, age 15, Washington,
D. C.
Helen Yelland, Pennsylvania.
(See also pages 14 and 16.)
20
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Id
^Murray&LanmAns,
FloridaMkter
Makes the daily bath a pos-
itive luxury. Its world-wide
use for over a century has
emphasized the delightful
qualities of this matchless
toilet perfume.
Leading Druggists sell it.
Accept no substitute!
Sample sent on receipt of
six cents in stamps.
a n m a n
& Kemp
135 Water St., New York
gTHE BRIGHTNESS!
f OF EVERY HOME |
jj5 made safe and sure with little work it 3-in-0ne is always used. SK8
£0 3-in-One oils everything from garret to cellar : Sewing {36
¥Js machines, bicycles, guns, tools, binges. Won't collect dirt >X
or gum. \jg
3-in-One cleans find polishes all fine furniture, veneered or Cv!^
varnished. Removes dust, soil and ordinary marks of time and JlrtJ
wear. Also makes dusting easy and sanitary. Contains VlJ
no acid; no unpleasant odor. VX'
3-in-One keeps bright and prevents tarnish on spigots, faucets, vljl
metal soap dishes, towel racks and all other nickel fixtures A^
or ornaments in bath room or kitchen. It prevents rust on all hA^
black iron surfaces, indoors or out, in any climate. 5JU
pDCp Write today for generous free sample and free vljl
1 ALL 3-in-One Dictionary. Ik%l
3-in-One is sold everywhere, 10c, 25c. and new 50c.
Economical Household Size.
3-IN-ONE OIL CO.
42 Q.G.Broadway -:- NEW YORK
t/i//i/fi/f/iiiiiiiimmm\\\\\\\\\l
— i
These tubes show the contents
of baby's stomach under differ-
ent conditions. They explain why
cow's milk, when used for infant
feeding, should be modified with
ESKAYS
FOOD
■
The tough, cheesy curds, that form
when plain cow's milk comes in contacl
with the galtric juices, are shown in the
bottle on the JTyy
left. These V//A
curds are very '
to baby's del- y
icate slomach. ^/i
Eskay's, ad-
ded to cow's
milk, prevents -i
the formation y
of these tough
curds, and
makes the soft, i
shown on the A
right.
Fresh cow's /
milk, modified /
m
I
■Y/\ the ideal substi- 1^
F*f /■ tute for moth- \/y
er's milk. It Lh
solves the all-important nursing problem.
If your little one is not
thriving, his food should be
changed immediately. "Ask
your Doctor" — he knows and
recommends Eskay's Food.
TEN FEEDINGS FREE
Smith, Kline & French Co., 462 Arch Street, Philadelphia
Gentlemen: Please send me free io feedings of Eskay's
Food and your helpful book for mothers, "How to Care for
the Baby."
Mam*.
Street and Number-
City and State
■
I
21
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
St. Nicholas Pet Department
Announcements of reliable advertisers only are ac-
cepted. The Department will gladly give advice
to all those interested in pets. Address "PET DEPARTMENT," St. Nicholas, Union Square, New York.
fl Shetland Pong
—is an unceasing source
of pleasure. A safe and
ideal playmate. Makes
the child strong and of
robust health. Inexpensive
to buy and keep. Highest
types here. Complete outfits.
Entire satisfaction. Write
for illustrated catalog.
BELLE MEADE FARM
Dept. 9, Markham, Va.
WHITE SCOTCH COLLIES
T7VERY American Boy should begin
his vacation with a White Scotch
Collie for a partner. Collies are brave, kind,
gentle, graceful, active, enduring, hardy, and
intelligent. Ideal for camp, city, suburb, or
country. Ours are country raised (on an
island), healthy, pedigree stock, and do not
require artificial heat in the coldest weather.
Will have some beauties to ship when school
closes, and can send anywhere in North
America. A pair will raise $150.00 worth of
puppies a year. No boy has had his full rights
unless he has owned a good dog. Prices
cheap. Order early.
Island White Scotch Collie Farms, Oshkosh, Wisconsin
An Advertisement
Joseph Jefferson
who played
Rip Van Winkle
for thirty-seven years
said to a rising star
AND
A Reply
" My dear, you are like all young actresses
and actors — you play to the orchestra.
Sometimes you include the first balcony.
But there is something you must never
forget there is a second balcony. It is
true they have paid only a quarter to get in,
but the boys and girls up there will in ten
years be the men and women in the first
balcony — many of them in the orchestra."
It, CaafJ M'gmin
Philadelphia, Pa.
Taking you at your word, and obeying an
impulse, perhaps a foolish one, I am writing
to tell you how much I am interested in your
Advertising Campaign in St. Nicholas.
It seems to me that you have grasped the
key-note of the whole situation, in consider-
ing the children. After all it is they who are
non -prejudiced — and progressive. They get
out more ; they see more than the grown
folks. Then, too, they do most of the er-
rands, and it is the inquisitive little girl and
boy who are constantly suggesting innovations
in the way of breakfast foods, brands of
molasses, etc. They are naturally alert and
impressionable, ready for something new, yet
I believe that yours is the only magazine
which recognizes in any way the "second
balcony," while advertisers do not realize the
golden opportunity they pass so rudely by.
I was commissioned to-day to purchase a
pair of garters for my younger brother, and
being somewhat at a loss, I asked him what
kind to buy, to which query he promptly replied, " Velvet Grip."
The wide-awake advertiser will captivate the children — they will do the rest, if the articles
advertised make good.
Page twenty-eight in April's St. Nicholas was just splendid ! !
And now, having stolen quite enough of your precious time, and with best wishes and con-
gratulations to St. Nicholas, I am, very truly yours,
(Signed) Ruth Plumly Thompson.
St. Nicholas Magazine gives its advertisers not only the second
balcony audience— but the first balcony and the orchestta audience.
Don't overlook the young folks
DON M. PARKER
Advertising Manager
Union Square, New York
22
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
RUBBER BUTTON
Hose Supporter
Buy by name
Gives the
utmost wear
value.
Gives
Perfect
Freedom
Children's
sample pair
16c. postpaid
(give age).
Always neat,
I strong and secure.
| Our exclusive rub-
ier button saves stockings,
EVERY PAIR GUARANTEED
SOLD EVERYWHERE
George Frost Co.
MAKERS, BOSTON
Also makers of the famous
Boston Garter for men.
MENNEN'S
Borated Talcum
FOR MINE
For Prickly Heat and Sunburn
Relieves all Skin Irritations
Sample Box for 4c stamp
GERHARD MENNEN CO.
23
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
INSPIRATION
Always is it faith in someone or something
that inspires us to lift our work above the
commonplace.
IT is the confidence which even the
humblest worker in the Ivorydale fac-
tories has in the product he helps to
make that is the basis of the superiority
of Ivory Soap.
It is the knowledge that his efforts are given
to an article worth while which inspires him
to do his best.
It is the certainty that the soap which he
helps to produce is the purest and most
economical, the soap that is doing the great-
est good in the world, which enables him
to look beyond the drudgery of the moment
and see his labor glorified.
And as his thousands of fellow-workers share
the same inspiration, it is but natural that
Ivory Soap should be the embodiment of
the Spirit of Cleanliness.
Illustration copyright, 1912, by The Procter &> Gamble Co., Cincinnati.
24
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
That men
means more
favorite soap
who go camping take Ivory Soap
than the fact that Ivory is their
It means that out there in the silent places,
far from civilization, where each of the few neces-
saries brought from home must do its part, Ivory
Soap can be depended upon to do the cleansing.
It tells you that wherever you may be, in camp
or at home, you can look to Ivory Soap to answer
every purpose. That you can use it for the toilet
and for washing clothes and utensils equally
well. That you can use it conveniently under any
condition.
Ivory Soap is so satisfactory because it is mild,
pure and of extraordinary quality, and because it
floats.
Ivory Soap It Floats
24
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
St. Nicholas Pet Department
to all those interested in pets.
Announcements of reliable advertisers only are ac-
cepted. The Department will gladly give advice
Address "PET DEPARTMENT," St. Nicholas, Union Square, New York.
WHITE SCOTCH COLLIES
A Nut Brown Maiden with a White Collie or a Tan Colored Boy with a White
Collie is a sight to warm the heart of any lover of outdoors. Every home should have
such a combination of color and life. Collies are brave, kind, gentle, beautiful, graceful,
enduring, hardy, intelligent, and active, and are ideal for city, suburb, country, or camp.
Collies are intelligent and sympathetic companions for adults, beautiful, graceful, and
sensitive comrades for young ladies, tireless playmates and FEARLESS PROTEC-
TORS for children, and dauntless guards of the home or farm. Every boy and girl
has an inborn right to be brought up with a faithful pet. Girls especially should have a
big, strong, brave dog to attract them to outdoor play and protect them on any occasion.
Ours are country raised (on an island) pedigree stock and are hardy, healthy, and rugged,
and never require artificial heat in winter. We ship anywhere in North America. A
pair will raise $150.00 worth of puppies a year. Kipling said : " Buy a pup and your
money buys love unflinching that cannot lie."
THE ISLAND WHITE SCOTCH COLLIE FARMS. Oshkosh, Wisconsin
A Child's Delight
A SHETLAND PONY
is an unceasing source of
pleasure. A safe and ideal
playmate. Makes the child
strong and of robust health.
Highest type — complete out-
fi t s — here. Inexpensive.
Satisfaction guaranteed. Write
for illustrated catalog.
BELLE MEADE FARM
Box 9, Markham, Va.
HAVE YOU EVER ASKED YOURSELF
What breed of dog will make the best companion
and playfellow?
What kind of a pet is the best for me to keep in
the city?
Where can I get the name of a dealer whom I
know to be reliable ?
What shall I feed my pets ?
Let the St. Nicholas Pet Department Answer You.
"The difference between knowledge and wis-
dom is the difference between seeing an oppor-
tunity and seizing it."
CHARLES CLARK MUNN
Great are the opportunities offered by St. Nicholas to
reliable advertisers and wise is that advertiser who does
not overlook the young folks.
1847 ROGERS BR0S.€
Spoons, Forks, Knives, etc., of the highest
grade carry the above trade mark. _^
Plate
that Wears'
Guaranteed by the largest makers of silverware.
INTERNATIONAL SILVER CO., MERIDEN, CONN.
Successor to Meriden Britannia Co.
NEW YORK
CHICAGO
SAN FRANCISCO
Send for
catalogue " W5
23
I2I-I22.
Copyright, 1906, by Percival Rosseau.
"IN THE FOREST."
FROM A PAINTING BY PERCIVAL ROSSEAU, IN THE POSSESSION OF EDMUND BLANC.
(SEE PAGE 967.)
ST. NICHOLAS
Vol. XXXIX
SEPTEMBER, 1912
No. 11
AN ARTIST AND HIS DOGS
BY FRANCES W. MARSHALL
ILLUSTRATED FROM PAINTINGS BY COURTESY OF MESSRS. KNOEDI.ER
On a Louisiana plantation, some years ago, a boy
lived who wanted to paint pictures. In this home,
with its wide-spreading acres, his ancestors had
dwelt for many years— ever since they came from
France— but, while offering everything in the
way of comfort and pleasure that one could rea-
sonably want, it lacked the one thing that this
boy longed for above everything else — the oppor-
tunity of learning to draw and paint. If he could
but go to Paris, he thought, where so many great
artists worked and taught, instead of being sent
to college ! But the tradition of the family re-
quired that her sons should be college-bred, so
there the lad went.
Throughout his student years, however, pencil
and color-box were always at hand, and he
sketched and painted in his leisure time. But
college life over, and after several years of camp-
ing, cattle-driving, hunting, and fishing in Texas,
Percival Rosseau finally sailed for France, where
he began his chosen career under famous masters,
full of the joy of doing the work he loved so well,
and growing steadily in skill and reputation as a
painter of figures and landscapes.
Several years ago, he chose Diana and her dogs
as the subject for a picture. He painted the fig-
ure of the huntress with the utmost care, but the
dogs were put on the canvas with such ease, that
they seemed to paint themselves ; for the artist
Copyright, 1912.
by The Century Co.
963
had been an enthusiastic hunter all his life, and
his dogs had been almost his only companions for
months at a time. Thus, it was not surprising
that he should read dog-nature as if it were an
open book, and should show his intimate know-
ledge in every stroke of the brush. When fin-
ished, the picture was hung in the great annual
picture exhibition in Paris, and the keen-eyed
critics at once saw that, while others painted
huntresses as successfully, here was an artist
whose dogs few could equal.
This suddenly opened Mr. Rosseau's eyes to
the value to him as an artist of his wealth of ex-
perience as a sportsman, and ever since he has
devoted himself to depicting "our friend, the
dog." He has revisited America several times,
giving exhibitions of his pictures — real dog-
shows, but with never a bark or yelp to startle the
throng of visitors.
At his home, not far from Paris, he keeps
twenty or thirty dogs, and hunts with them dur-
ing the fall and winter, making sketches and notes
for pictures which he paints during the spring
and summer. Imagine what a fortunate person
this artist is, for, in order to do his work, he must
first play, or, rather, his work for half the year is
play !
The dogs not only hunt in the season, but when
at home they are brought into the studio and
All rights reserved.
964
AN ARTIST AND HIS DOGS
[Sept.,
taught to pose, though not in the exact positions
they take in the field. A dog, if not running or
walking, sits or lies down, but Mr. Rosseau's dogs
have learned to stand on a table while he paints
them. Usually at the end of twenty or thirty
minutes, they are allowed to rest, but sometimes
the artist becomes so absorbed that an hour slips
away before he knows it ; yet the model remains
patiently posing until his master speaks. After
three or four hours' work, however, the dogs tire,
and sit down without permission, as a hint that
they have done enough.
One day, one of the most intelligent of them,
who had been posing for his portrait for several
mornings, was off duty and lying quietly in the
studio, when a dog needed for another picture was
brought in and placed on the table. The former
model rose deliberately from the floor, looked the
new-comer over disdainfully, and, jumping upon
the table, placed himself in front of the intruder,
quietly but firmly shouldering him into the back-
ground, as if to say, "Don't meddle with things
you don't understand. If a model is needed, / 'm
COCKER SPANIELS IN THE BRUSH —DICK AND JIM.
the dog that 's wanted." This is only one of the
many interesting anecdotes which the painter
tells. Every picture and every dog has his own
story.
The picture "October" shows the setter, Jack,
and the French spaniel, Diane, "standing" the
game, a beautiful landscape behind them, and the
"cloudy sky" that "proclaims it a hunting morn-
ing." Jack is English born, and when two or
three years old was brought to France. One sad
day he got in the way of a French racing auto-
mobile and was badly hurt. He was a poor
suffering dog for many weeks, and his master
had given up the hope that he would ever be well
again, when the family physician was called in to
attend one of the children of the household. As
he was leaving, he saw Jack lying miserably on
his cushion, and, with the quick sympathy of the
good physician, bent over him and tried to find
out his troubles. With as much care and thought
as if Jack had been a human being, he then wrote
a prescription for him. Jack took his medicine
with exemplary patience and regularity, and
shortly began to improve. In a few weeks he was
about again, and before many months he was in
the hunting field once more, as good as new.
Diane, his companion in the picture, is a rather
accomplished individual, with charmingly well-
bred manners. Her deportment in the dining-
room, when she is admitted to the honor of
attending the family there,
does credit to her bringing
up. She has peculiar no-
tions of her own, the odd-
est being that she must not
take anything from the left
hand, no matter how much
she longs for it. If a titbit
is offered to her in this
way, she regards it sadly
for a moment, then turns
her head away, as if to put
the temptation out of sight.
Offer the morsel with the
right hand, however, and
she accepts it as eagerly as
her sense of propriety will
allow. Her master has
owned her for six years,
but she never forgets this
trick, although sometimes a
year is allowed to elapse
between the trials. An-
other more useful trick is
her ability to find lost arti-
cles. Her master need only
say, quietly, in his ordinary
voice, "Diane, I 've lost something," and she im-
mediately turns back over the way they have
come, sometimes going several miles, but always
returning with the missing object.
"Cocker Spaniels in the Brush" shows two
youngsters, Dick and Jim, about eighteen months
old, in the full enjoyment of their first hunting
1912.]
AN ARTIST AND HIS DOGS
965
"OCTOBER" — JACK AND DIANE.
season, their clumsy puppyhood not quite out-
grown. They are the clowns among the bird-
hunting dogs, for their lively imaginations and
enthusiastic dispositions lead them into all sorts
of absurd antics. Instead of showing by their
attitudes where a quail is hidden, they consider
the matter for a moment, and then plunge into
the thicket, forcing their way through tangled
thorns and briers and incredibly small spaces.
The bird, who thought herself secure behind her
green ramparts, does n't wait the arrival of her
unwelcome visitors, but leaves so promptly that,
as Mr. Rosseau says, it is as if a feathered can-
non-ball hurled itself through the air, for a quail
travels with marvelous rapidity when in full
flight. A bird, by slipping along from cover to
cover, can often lead a running dog for miles and
tire him out at last ; but the sledge-hammer meth-
ods of a cocker spaniel put such bird tactics out
of the question. But with it all, these dogs are
the most expressive, amiable, and affectionate of
the hunting-dogs.
In "Pointing Pheasants," Diane, with her
brown head and long silky ears, appears again,
but with another companion, "Tom," called a
"Lemon setter," from his yellow markings. Tom's
experience has been rather an unusual one in dog
history, for he began life under a cloud. He
came of a fine hunting family, but seemed quite
unworthy of his eminent ancestors, for, though
he went into training at the proper age and great
things were expected of him, he seemed to have
been born without the instincts of his race— he
was absolutely indifferent to hunting and simply
bored by the efforts of his trainers in trying to
educate him in the family profession. His first
master had no use for a dog that could n't or
would n't hunt, and one day said to a friend that
a no-account dog like Tom was n't worth his
keep. But he had what young story-writers call the
fatal gift of beauty, only, in his case, it was not
fatal, but quite the reverse, for his master's
friend saw that he would be a wonderfully fine
dog in a picture, where his defects as a hunting-
dog would not appear, and he would certainly be
worth his keep to an artist he knew. So Tom
left the parent kennel, and was shipped, properly
tagged, to Mr. Rosseau, his new master. For a
966
AN ARTIST AND HIS DOGS
[Sept.,
year, he lived a placid life with the other dogs,
going out for an occasional walk, having his pic-
ture painted, and making himself companionable ;
hunting was never mentioned in his presence — he
had been given up as a bad job. But one warm
'POINTING PHEASANTS — TOM AND DIANE
September day, the hunting season having begun,
his master started out with the other dogs. The
heat was so unusual that before the morning was
over the dogs were completely fagged out, and
the hunter saw a wasted afternoon in prospect,
when his eye fell on Tom. "Not much use in
taking him," he thought, "but if I get anything,
he can at least retrieve it," so, whistling to Tom,
he started off. They had gone only a short dis-
tance, when Tom suddenly took the pose of the
hunting-dog who scents game. His master looked
at him disgustedly, and thought what a fool dog
he was. Just then, how-
ever, a good distance
ahead, a bird whirred up
from the ground. "That 's
queer !" thought the hunt-
er ; "quite a coincidence
that a bird should happen
to be in there." And he
tramped along. But Tom
began to range over the
ground in the most ap-
proved style. In a few
moments, he stood again,
and another bird flew up ;
but this time the hunter
was ready for it. Again
and again this was re-
peated. Never before had
that particular hunter shot
over a dog who made him
work so hard. Tom, the
no-account dog, had come
into his own, and from
that day took his rightful
place at the head of the
kennel.
"Tom," his master says,
"is always just right. His
judgment is perfect. He
never makes a mistake ; he
never does the foolish
things that other dogs do."
When driven birds are
shot from behind a cover,
he crouches near his mas-
ter, never showing himself
except when he puts his
head out to watch the
shots and count the birds
that fall. For Tom seems
to have a kind of dog-
arithmetic that never fails
him. He always remem-
bers the exact number of
birds he is to fetch, and
goes back and forth unbidden until all have been
brought in. On one occasion one of the beaters,
in passing a dead bird, picked it up and carried
it to Tom's master, so when Tom arrived at the
spot, the bird was not there. Much perplexed, he
circled around the place, then made a wider cir-
cle, and it was only when his master finally went
IQI2.]
AN ARTIST AND HIS DOGS
967
and dragged him away, that he gave up searching
for that seventh bird.
Tom's sworn friend in the kennel is Jack, and
when business separates them, they part sadly
from each other; but their meeting is a joyful
affair, and they rub noses in greeting like two
Eskimos. Tom would be in a fair way to be
spoiled if his master were less wise, for every
one wishes to pet this handsome, clever fellow ;
but Mr. Rosseau finds that a dog who is made
too much of by his human
friends, gradually loses the
keenness of his natural in-
stincts, acquires a taste for
the easy things of life, and
no longer lives up to the
best that is in him. And
that, we all know, is a bad
thing to happen to a dog or
any one else.
When the hunting season
opens, the birds soon learn
that men and dogs are to be
given a wide berth, so they
leave the fields and open
ground and seek shelter in
the woods. Here, hidden in
the thick underbrush, they
are safe from the dogs—
except the cocker spaniels,
as we have seen — so men
called "beaters" are ranged
in a line at one side of the
woods, while the hunters
wait in a parallel line on
the other. The beaters then advance, and the
birds, driven from their retreat, rise and fly to-
ward the open with amazing swiftness, passing
high over the line of hunters, who must be quick
and skilful, indeed, to secure any of them.
Beyond the woods, the birds scatter and settle
down in the open ground, where the dogs, which
have been tied during the "beating up" of the
forest — the battue, as it is called in France — can
be set to work. The frontispiece, "In the For-
est," shows such a group waiting in the cool
shade of the trees till their master shall need
them. The three setters are our friends Jack,
Diane, and Tom, while the two pointers are new
acquaintances— Belle and Mirelle. This beautiful
picture won a gold medal for the painter in the
Paris exhibition.
"Early Morning" introduces us to the pointers,
Rex and Leda, beginning their day's work. Rex,
by his faithfulness, has won his master's warm
regard ; Leda's only peculiarity is her extreme
timidity. If a stranger approaches, she retires to
a safe distance and lies down with an eye on the
intruder till he withdraws.
A dog with a romance ! — such is the orange-
and-white pointer, Drack of St. Germain. A
high-sounding name, is it not, as if the possessor
came of noble family? But while Drack may
have the bluest blood to be found in canine cir-
cles, we can only guess it, for it is impossible to
trace his pedigree. His romance began when he
was of a very tender age, for he was stolen from
EARLY MORNING
-REX AND LEDA.
his home — the nice warm basket which he shared
with a large family of baby brothers and sisters—
before he had really opened his eyes on the world.
His first master was a poacher, as a game-thief is
called, and he trained poor Drack in his own dark
ways, for he taught him to help him in gaining
his dishonest living of stealing birds, rabbits, and
even small deer, in the forest of St. Germain,
about ten miles from Paris, in whose markets
game always brings a good price. This fine forest
is owned by the state, and large sums are paid
for the privilege of hunting in it, while game-
keepers are placed in charge of it to see that only
those who have the right to do so shall hunt there.
Poachers, like other thieves, are usually wicked
and desperate men who do not hesitate at any
crime if they are in danger of being caught; but
they prefer to avoid an encounter with the game-
keepers, and so go stealthily about their work,
hiding when any one approaches, and snaring
their game, or taking it, as far as possible, with-
out noise. A poacher's dog, therefore, must un-
968
AN ARTIST AND HIS DOGS
derstand his master's business, and learn to be
quiet and watchful, slipping out of sight when a
stranger appears, and remaining motionless till
he is out of sight and hearing.
Then, again, the first rule of conduct for an
honest hunting-dog is to respect the game ; he
must show his master where it is to be found, and
fetch it to him after it has been brought down;
but catch it ? Never ! The poacher, however,
has but one object in hunting — to capture his
prey — so Drack was taught to steal upon and
seize a rabbit lying quietly in his hollow among
the brown leaves and grasses, or, with wonderful
skill and quickness, to pounce upon a bird and
bring it to his master.
But one lucky day, a sportsman in the forest,
himself unseen, had the chance to observe Drack
at work, and was so struck by his remarkable
intelligence that, meeting his owner as if by
chance, he offered to buy the dog, and the
poacher parted with him readily enough for the
sum offered.
So was Drack rescued from the bad company
into which his misfortune had thrown him, and a
new life began. It was a rather trying experi-
ence at first, for he had to unlearn all the many
wrong habits to which he had been brought up,
and to learn all those that would fit him to move
in the society of well-trained hunting-dogs in
which he now found himself. But one goodhabithe
had already acquired— absolute obedience, and so,
though he doubtless became a little discouraged
sometimes, and found it difficult to overcome the
ways of his unfortunate past, he finally conquered
them with the help of a wise and patient trainer.
Then, too, the instincts which he had doubtless
inherited from a long line of honest, well-bred
ancestors, stood him in good stead, and, finally,
he so far justified his new master's first opinion
of him, that he was entered in the great national
dog-show.
And then what happened? Why, Drack, the
poacher's dog, the pointer with no pedigree, was
awarded the first prize on his merits, over all the
high-born dogs in the competition ! This oc-
curred for three successive years, and he also led
in the field trials.
All this took place sometime ago, and Drack is
beginning to grow old ; but he still hunts for a
couple of hours in the morning, probably to give
the younger dogs an opportunity to observe his
methods and profit by his example ; but at the end
of this time, he looks up at his master as if to
say, "The excursion has really been very agree-
able, but it has lasted long enough for to-day,"
and he trots back home. There he takes his ease,
or, what he likes even better, poses on the table
in the big studio while his master paints his pic-
ture—the portrait that shall win friends on both
sides of the Atlantic for Drack of St. Germain.
PRACK OF ST. GERMAIN.
BY THE SHORE
BY MRS. SCHUYLER VAN RENSSELAER
When tired of building forts and walls and ditching them about,
I sit upon the sand and watch the tide flow in or out;
And always at the edge are waves, always, though there may be
No ripples on the water near, no tossing out at sea.
They may be little, little waves, perhaps an inch in height,
Yet they can rise and curl and fall and plash as big ones might.
Just as one dies another comes, and always more and more,
And ever runs their whispering voice along the quiet shore.
At night, when all is hid away in darkness, still I know
They curl and break, and up and down their little distance go.
And even in winter, I am sure, when I am far away,
There 's surf upon the beach, or else my tiny waves at play.
9 bg
\S&\V.*
<<
SURFMAN No. 7"
BY GEORGE C. LANE
The establishment of a volunteer life-saving ser-
vice at Brenton Beach was Carl Allyn's idea, in-
spired by a visit to the United States Life-Saving
Station at Wood's Point the previous summer.
He had been much impressed with what he had
seen at the station, and had decided then and
there that, as soon as the other boys of his ac-
quaintance arrived at Brenton's the following
summer, he would put his idea into practice. He
had not only written to them about his plans, but
had succeeded in persuading his father, Com-
mander Allyn of the United States Navy, to pro-
cure for the service an old metallic life-boat,
which had been used on a government revenue
cutter, and had lately been replaced by one of
more modern design.
An old shed on the edge of the beach, which,
in past years, had been used for storing marsh
hay, had been appropriated for housing the life-
boat, and, in imitation of the life-saving station,
a double row of planks, reaching from the shed
to the water, had been installed, in lieu of truck
and rails, for the purpose of launching the craft.
The boat was equipped with life-preservers, and
lengths of rope were neatly coiled at bow and
stern. The life-boat was propelled by three sets
of oars, and there was an extra rowlock in the
stern for the accommodation of the steering oar.
The rather too businesslike monotony of beach
patrol had been dispensed with early in the sea-
son, as being irksome ; but the boys had made it
a rule that at least three of them should be on
the beach daily during the swimming hour. Six
boys comprised the crew at Brenton Beach Sta-
tion, and Carl, as captain, was always on hand to
direct the daily beach practice, when the life-boat
was run out of the shed and shoved into the
breakers. By the middle of the season, the crew
had become quite expert in the business of
launching, so that, even when a high surf was
running, they were equal to the task of getting
out past the breakers without shipping water.
This had not been accomplished, however, with-
out more than one ducking, when the boys had
failed to take full advantage of the back-wash be-
tween combers.
Carl's sister, Marjorie, two years his junior,
had arrived at the beach the last of July to spend
the rest of the summer. She had become inter-
ested at once in the life-saving service, and had
applied to Captain Carl for a place in the crew.
"What use would a girl be in a life-boat, if
there was ever any call for real work?" Carl had
asked, laughing.
"Just as much use as any of you boys, perhaps,"
Marjorie had answered warmly. "You know that
when it comes to swimming, I can beat any of
you."
"Well, that may all be," Carl admitted reluc-
tantly ; "but there 's something to the business
beside swimming. You 'd be all right in a canoe
up there on Lake Placid, but I '11 bet you could n't
handle a pair of our oars."
Marjorie realized that she was a rather poor
oarsman, but would not give up her ambition to
join the crew.
"Well, let me steer, then. I guess I 'm equal to
doing that," she persevered.
After a great deal of coaxing, Captain Carl
finally decided to give his sister a trial at the
SURFMAN NO.
971
helm. He would not allow her to take part in
launching the boat, however, and so, obeying in-
structions, she kept her seat in the stern, oar in
hand, while the boys rushed the boat into the
surf. The boys, Carl included, were frank to admit
)w>mwmium* ■■
"ANGELE GRADUALLY, THOUGH FIGHTING DESPERATELY, DISAPPEARED
that, with Marjorie as helmsman, they usually
made neater work of launching. That was how
Marjorie was admitted as a member of the crew,
and came to be known, on Carl's suggestion, as
"Surfman No. j" ; and Marjorie was proud of the
nickname.
"Would n't it be great if we only had some real
life-saving to do !" Marjorie exclaimed one day
after practice, which always ended in a swim off
the bathing raft.
"Perhaps it would be — in a way," said Carl.
"That 's what we 've been practising for, of
course; but life-saving is such dead-in-earnest
business, that I don't think
I 'd exactly wish for a job."
Two weeks after Mar-
jorie's arrival at the sea-
shore, the schooner-yacht
Cecile, a handsome little
craft in glossy black, gold-
trimmed, the property of
Alexander L'Hommedieu, the
French consul at one of the
larger American ports, ar-
rived at Brenton's. Mon-
sieur L'Hommedieu and his
daughter, Angele, were to be
the guests for a fortnight of
Commander Allyn. Angele
and Marjorie were the clos-
est friends, and those last
two weeks in August were
the happiest that either of
the girls had ever spent.
Sailing parties nearly ev-
ery day aboard the Cecile,
and dancing nearly every
night ashore, helped pass
the time enjoyably, Mar-
jorie's neighbors and ac-
quaintances being glad of an
opportunity to assist in en-
tertaining Angele, whose
charm and vivacity won
friends for her everywhere.
But the two weeks were
over all too quickly, and the
leave-taking of the two girls
was a rather melancholy af-
fair ; for, in a few days,
Angele was going back to
France to finish her school-
ing.
"Zat is ze sadness of ze
good times, zis saying good-
by, iss eet not, Marjorie?"
said Angele in her sweet lit-
tle voice. "But I hope I vill see you again nex'
summaire, or you vill come to see me, perhaps."
So the yacht's tender took Angele out to the
Cecile, which rode gracefully at anchor a half-
mile from shore. It was an unusually calm day
for late August, with not enough air stirring to
fill the white sails, and the yacht, which was not
equipped with an auxiliary engine, as most yachts
972
SURFMAN NO. 7"
[Sept.,
are nowadays, was delayed all the morning wait-
ing for a breeze that did not come.
There was the usual noontime crowd of bathers
on the beach, and among them Marjorie, her
brother Carl, and two of the other boys of the
volunteer life-saving crew.
Naturally enough, Marjorie's thoughts were
with Angele, off there on the Cecile, and natu-
rally, too, Marjorie's gaze was fixed frequently
in that direction. There was not a sign of life
aboard the yacht for some time, and then, finally,
she saw Angele come out on deck in her red bath-
ing-suit and cap. Evidently she intended to have
one last dip before sailing, Marjorie thought. An
unaccountable feeling of uneasiness came over
her that she could not shake off.
In her anxiety for Angele, she ran to the pa-
vilion and borrowed the keeper's binoculars. She
could watch her plainly with the aid of the
glasses. Instead of diving overboard, as Marjo-
rie had expected her to do, Angele went over the
side and down the ladder, letting herself slowly
into the water. Without looking back at the
yacht, Angele started out at once for the beach.
It was over a half-mile swim straightaway, but,
with the tide that was setting past, one would be
obliged to swim nearly twice the distance, and
would be carried considerably beyond the raft
and toward the rocks at the point. Marjorie's
foreboding was followed by a feeling of genuine
alarm, as she noticed how the tide was steadily
bearing the swimmer down toward the point.
Shaking off the state of inaction, which dread
and fright at Angele's predicament had produced,
Marjorie called out to Carl and the other two
boys, explaining what she had seen.
"You don't suppose she 's going to try to swim
all the way inshore, do you?" Carl asked.
"What else is there for her to do?" asked Mar-
jorie. "She could n't swim back to the yacht
against the current, I 'm sure."
"Well, come on, boys !" said Carl, without stop-
ping to ask further questions.
Marjorie jumped into the life-boat and took
her place in the stern, and the boys ran it down
the smooth planks and into the surf with a rush
that attracted the attention of the bathers and
the other people on the beach. A little red spot,
which showed up occasionally on the swells, in
the line of direction taken by the life-boat, told
them the object of the expedition, and every one
was soon eagerly watching its progress.
Meanwhile, six strong, young arms were forc-
ing the little life-boat through the water as fast
as they could make it go. Straight on its course
Marjorie guided the craft. Tears blurred the
sight of that little red cap ahead of her, but the
distance between boat and swimmer was percepti-
bly lessening.
"That 's it ! keep it up, boys ! We '11 soon—"
Carl was interrupted by Marjorie's anxious
tone and entreaty: "Oh, faster, Carl! Faster,
boys! She 's— she 's gone— down!"
A little brown arm had stuck up out of the
water for a second, as though waving a greeting,
and then, just as Marjorie was about to wave in
reply, arm, cap, and all disappeared !
Carl, who was rowing stroke, responded with
renewed energy to Marjorie's appeal for haste,
and with so hard a pull at the oars that— crack!
his right oar was snapped off just above the
blade, with a suddenness that nearly unseated
him.
"Here, quick!" said Marjorie, and in a second
she had replaced the useless shaft by her own
steering oar. A few seconds later, Angele came
to the surface, struggling bravely.
"A little stronger on your left— there, two
more strokes, then stop!" said Marjorie, coolly.
What then happened took place so quickly that
the boys, looking on as they gripped their oars,
could hardly believe their eyes. Quickly as her
keen wits prompted the impulse, Marjorie, tying
a slip-knot in the end of the coil of rope in the
stern, slipped it over her shoulders, drawing it
snugly under her arms, and, as the boat reached
the spot where Angele gradually, though fighting
desperately, had disappeared, Marjorie plunged
headlong !
The rope unwound in quick, even spirals from
the flat, mat-like coil in the stern. Carl held his
breath, as did the others, in fear and wonder.
Beneath, and considerably ahead of her, Mar-
jorie could dimly make out Angele's struggling
figure, carried down and on by the tide. Strain-
ing every nerve and muscle, Marjorie swam des-
perately, with all her strength.
It seemed impossible to force herself farther
down, but she could not, she would not, give up,
with her Angele almost within arm's-reach. The
time had come to use the last resort. Expelling
the full breath that she had naturally taken in
before diving, she became less buoyant, and her
progress downward was thus made easier.
If only she could hold out a little longer ! The
firm, strong beating of her heart exaggerated the
passing of the time since her plunge, which could
still be measured in seconds under a minute, al-
though to her it was almost unendurably long
and painful. She wanted air. It seemed as
though her arms could not make another stroke.
"I must not— I must not give up now !" she told
herself, and then — her strong, slender fingers
clutched Angele's shoulder. Her arms were
igi2.]
SURFMAN NO. 7
973
about Angele's waist in the next instant, and with
her remaining strength she drew her close. Then
came a tug of the rope about her chest !
"There, I dare not wait longer!" Carl was say-
ing. "Row ahead a stroke, while I pull in on the
line !" he faltered.
A few seconds later, the two girls were being
drawn into the boat. "Row with all your might
for the yacht! Faster — faster!" Carl urged.
On the deck of the Cecile, Angele was soon re-
vived. With a pitiful little sigh she opened her
eyes. Marjorie, tearful now, and the yacht's cap-
tain, were bending over her.
"Ah, at last ! Our little Angele has come back
to us !" said the captain, and he murmured a rev-
erent "Thank God."
Half an hour later, Carl was telling the story
to Angele's father, who had just been rowed out
from shore, and Angele was explaining how she
had intended to swim ashore to say good-by again
to Marjorie, when a cramp had seized her, and
had made her powerless to swim. Her father
could not say enough in praise of the boys, and
in gratitude to the volunteer life-saving crew.
And as for Marjorie, it made them all happy
again to see the way he hugged and patted her,
in his enthusiastic manner, and called her, "Mon
leetle Surfman Numbaire Seven !"
Nor was this quite all. The following sum-
mer, before the season had fairly opened, a
stanch little life-boat of the best design, self-
righting, self-bailing, non-sinkable, and non-cap-
sizable, arrived from a grateful father for the
Volunteer Life-Saving Station at Brenton Beach.
In the possession of Isaac C. Bates, Esq.
"SUMMER." FROM THE PAINTING BY FRANK W. BENSON.
THE AGRICULTURAL LAIR
When the time comes round for Cattle-Shows-
In the fall, as you 're aware—
When the harvest season nears its close,
The great event of the Be-Ba-Boes
(Who cultivate everything that grows,)
Is the Agricultural Fair.
But the Be-Ba-Boes, at this annual meet,
Have a system all their own :
Instead of a prize for the largest wheat,
The largest corn, and the largest beet,
They urge all farmers to compete
With the littlest ever grown.
The particular fair we now review,
I never shall quite forget ;
Such tiny turnips never grew ;
Such scrubbley squash you never knew —
Of small things I have seen a few,
But these were the smallest yet !
r\» tti r.-ri r* e
M-vnadier
"Daland 19U
THE AGRICULTURAL FAIR
975
The live-stock, too ; it was properly fat,
But the breed was extremely rare ;
For the winning sheep was the size of a rat,
The pig was a pygmy — small at that,
And the yearling calf you could put in your hat
And never know he was there.
The principal prize for the Gardening trade
Was a glittering Bag of Gold,
For the smallest Pumplekin there displayed;
And, of course, the deepest plans were laid
By all who owned a garden spade,
That dazzling prize to hold.
That you have anywhere ever seen
Such Pumplekins, I deny.
In sizes ranging all between
A bantam's egg and a butter-bean—
'T would take nine hundred and seventeen
To make a Pumplekin-pie !
976
BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES
[Sept.,
Now, Benjamin Bobster stood alone
By the side of a gorgeous sign
Which plainly read: "Right Here is Shown
The Littlest Pumplekin Ever Grown" ;
And Benjie claimed, in a truculent tone,
"That prize is certainly mine I"
When the judges came to the Pumplekin Class,
They examined his claim with care ;
They all looked hard with a powerful glass
To see wherein this might surpass
All other Pumplekins ; but, alas !
They could n't see anything there.
And so they cried : "What docs this mean ?
Here 's nothing— great or small."
But Benjie said, with an air serene,
"It 's there— and it takes the prize, I ween;
It must be smaller than any you 've seen—
For you can't see mine at all !"
-v — ^
Ma^rtsdier
Dal ana
1911
1912.]
THE AGRICULTURAL FAIR
977
'T was a logical view and bound to tell ;
The judges they hemmed and hawed.
They said, "Mm-mm !" and they said, "Well,
well !
This case had never a parallel;
But since he loudly claims to excel,
The prize we '11 have to award."
So they said to him: "We are glad to show
Esteem for the Gardener bold ;
To you this useful Bag must go —
There is nothing in it, because, you know,
For Invisible Pumplekins we bestow
A bag of Invisible Gold !" "
Poor Benjie quailed— could n't utter a sound,
For that was the bitterest blow.
And I 've often thought, going over the ground,
If they had looked harder, they might have found
That Littlest Pumplekin somewhere round-
It may have been there, you know.
Vol. XXXlX.-i23-t*4«.
ftfieLANE
J8y Frederick Or in Bartteit
cAuthor of " The Forest Casta.<ways "
Chapter XVIII
Elizabeth's dreams
come true
Though Elizabeth made
no mention of the party at
school on Monday, it was clear
that, among the other girls, the two
affairs were being discussed in whispers. Some
of them talked freely with Nance, and she did
not hesitate to paint in glowing colors the success
of the party in the house by the lane. On the
whole, however, most of the girls appeared rather
sheepish, and avoided the subject.
That afternoon Elizabeth was very much sur-
prised to receive a call from Miss Winthrop.
"Elizabeth," the latter began abruptly, "I 've
come to apologize."
"For what?" asked Elizabeth.
"For joining in Helen's plan, which was meant
to hurt you," she answered without mincing mat-
ters. "Helen admits her party was a failure. Do
you know there was n't a single boy there except
two relatives?" Elizabeth smiled.
"Do you know there was n't a single girl at my
party except Nance and myself?" she asked.
"Yes," Miss Winthrop confessed. "We ought
every one of us to be ashamed !"
"You need n't be," answered Elizabeth. "I was
sorry you did n't come, for I wanted you all
there; but, of course, Helen wanted you, too."
"But she did n't," Miss Winthrop replied. "She
just wanted to spoil your party. She says so her-
self, and— and she wanted me to tell you so, and
to say she is sorry."
"Helen wanted you to say that!" exclaimed
Elizabeth.
"We all talked it over at recess, and decided it
was the only thing to do. She ought to have come
herself, but you know how hard that would be
for her."
"It would n't be so hard as she thinks," an-
swered Elizabeth. "I would have understood and
forgiven her, and I do forgive her as it is."
Miss Winthrop's eyes grew moist.
"How dear and good and generous you are!"
she exclaimed impulsively.
"I don't deserve that praise," answered Eliza-
beth. "But I don't have time to quarrel any more.
You see, I have so much to do here."
Miss Winthrop glanced around the pretty room.
"You 're certainly lucky," she answered. "I
wish the rest of us had a chance to learn what
you are learning here."
Elizabeth leaned forward and placed her hand
on Miss Winthrop's knee.
"Do you, honestly?" she asked.
"Honestly !"
"Then listen," she began breathlessly. "I 've
been thinking over something ever since school
opened. It may sound foolish to you, and if it
does, I want you to say so right out. Will you?"
"I guess we 'd be better off all the time if we
always said things right out," agreed Miss Win-
throp.
"That 's Mrs. Trumbull's way, anyhow,"
smiled Elizabeth. "And, oh, I do want you and
the other girls to know her ! I did n't like her at
first, but now— well, she 's made me see every-
thing differently. She herself is so different from
us ; she knows how to do the things women used to
do. She knows how to cook, and to sew, and to
keep house, and put up preserves, and— oh, I
could n't begin to tell you all the things she
knows. My mother was like that. She knew
about such things, too."
"I don't think my mother did," confessed Miss
Winthrop.
"I guess a lot of mothers to-day don't," mused
Elizabeth. "That 's probably why we girls don't
learn."
"But I 'd like to know," broke in Miss Win-
throp.
"You 're better than I was," admitted Eliza-
beth, with a short laugh. "I did n't even want to
learn. I — I thought it was n't ladylike. Think
of it!"
"You 're no worse than the rest of us," laughed
978
THE LADY OF THE LANE
979
Miss Winthrop. "We 'd think so now, if it
was n't for you."
"And you don't think so now?" asked Eliza-
beth.
"I 'd be ashamed to look you in the face and
say so," answered Miss Winthrop.
"I know you might be ashamed to say so, but
do you think so?"
"Honestly I don't. I can't say I 'm crazy to
learn to cook, but I know I ought to learn."
"Oh, you 'd like it after a little. Why now—
I even like to get breakfast."
"Ugh ! I don't believe I 'd ever get that far !"
"Yes, you would !" exclaimed Elizabeth. "You 'd
get to like to do things for yourself, no matter
what. It makes you feel so independent."
Elizabeth's face reflected her enthusiasm. Her
eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. She
had never talked so earnestly with any one about
anything. She meant every word she said.
"But we have n't such nice little houses to learn
in," answered Miss Winthrop. "It would n't be
so much fun in an apartment."
"Then," exclaimed Elizabeth, "why don't you
come down here and learn?"
"Why, Beth, what do you mean?"
"That you start a cooking class to meet here
one afternoon a week ; and a sewing class to meet
another afternoon. I 'd love to share this house
with you— with all my friends."
"Beth !" exclaimed Miss Winthrop.
"And Mrs. Trumbull says she '11 help us and—
oh, do you want to do it ?"
"Why, I think it would be great ! We might
make a club. We might call ourselves the Old-
Fashioned Girls."
"Good !" agreed Elizabeth, her quick brain de-
veloping the idea. "And whatever we did we
could do in an old-fashioned way. We could have
dances and not allow any girl to come who had n't
made her own dress; we could have spreads, but
every girl must bring some of her own cooking.
Each girl could make some one thing; I would
make the butter, you could make the bread—"
"I make the bread?" chuckled Miss Winthrop.
"I guess that would end the party."
"No, you can learn. Why, Mr. Harden can
make biscuits, and Roy — "
"Can make doughnuts," Miss Winthrop finished
for her. "Brother Dick says he 's prouder of
that than being captain of the base-ball team."
"Well, it is something to be proud of," Eliza-
beth laughed, and Miss Winthrop rose to go.
"I '11 see Helen and Jane this afternoon," she
declared. "I wish we could hold our meeting
next Saturday."
"We can," agreed Elizabeth. "You talk with
all the girls, and then we '11 make out a list and
ask them here to tea. But I only want those who
honestly wish to learn."
"I think about ten of us will be enough to start
with," nodded Miss Winthrop. "I '11 see you
again, and we '11 decide whom we '11 take in as
charter members. Then perhaps later we can
make it larger."
But Elizabeth still had one thing at heart, more
vital than her ambitions for the Old-Fashioned
Girls. As November passed, and December came
and Christmas began to loom up, and still her
father lived his lonely and solitary life at "The
Towers," she seemed to have failed in the one big
undertaking which had furnished her with the
spirit to enter upon her new life with such good
grace. Apparently she had not yet made her
home attractive enough to draw him to it. She
had succeeded in making herself proud of it, in
making her friends proud of it, but without her
father it was not, after all, really and truly her
home.
One day Elizabeth surprised Mrs. Trumbull by
announcing :
"I 'm going to move into the spare room."
"What are you going to do that for?" de-
manded Mrs. Trumbull. "The front room is the
sunniest and best in the house."
"That," declared Elizabeth, "is where Daddy is
going to live."
"Where— do you mean to tell me your father
has come round at last ?" asked Mrs. Trumbull,
excitedly.
"Not yet," answered Elizabeth. "But I expect
him to live here after Christmas."
"What makes you expect that?" persisted Mrs.
Trumbull.
Elizabeth only laughed.
"You wait and see," she answered.
Elizabeth transferred into the spare room all
her own personal belongings. They were not
many, and she had to buy a few simple things,
because everything that was her mother's she left
behind.
"Now," she said, after she had done that, "I
want you to tell me, as nearly as you can re-
member, just how Mother's room used to look."
"It did n't look very different from the way it
looks now," said Mrs. Trumbull. "A few of her
things may have been packed away in her trunks,
but almost everything is here."
"Then we must look through the trunks," ex-
plained Elizabeth. "There is one of them we
have not opened yet."
"But what are you planning to do?" questioned
Mrs. Trumbull, regarding Elizabeth with a smile.
980
THE LADY OF THE LANE
[Sept.,
"I want to make her room look exactly as it did
when she was here," said Elizabeth. "Perhaps
then, if I bring Daddy up here on Christmas Day,
and he sees things just as they used to be, he '11
want to come back and live the way he used to
live. And then — "
Her voice broke. She clung impulsively to
Mrs. Trumbull.
"Oh !" she cried, "I do so want my daddy here !
Don't you see, I can't really be the Lady of the
Lane without him !"
"There, dear, there," whispered Mrs. Trumbull,
tenderly. "I guess— well, I guess he '11 come
home on Christmas Day."
They ransacked the attic and found many
things which they had not noticed before. Eliza-
beth drew from a corner two of her mother's
favorite chairs which had been put away because
they were slightly broken ; but Martin mended
them, and they were as good as ever. Then there
were some yellowed muslin curtains.
"Land sakes !" exclaimed Mrs. Trumbull, "I do
believe these are the very ones she had when she
first came down here !"
Washing and bluing and bleaching made them
white and fresh again, and these Elizabeth her-
self hung in place.
There were also some old pictures, and Eliza-
beth dusted these, cleaned the frames, and hung
them where, as well as Mrs. Trumbull could re-
member, they had been before. But the rarest
treasure of all was a miniature portrait of her
mother, which Elizabeth found tucked away in
the bottom of a trunk. Mrs. Churchill had had it
painted in her wedding-dress. Mrs. Trumbull
put on her spectacles and stared at it until her
own eyes grew misty. Then she handed it to
Elizabeth.
"There!" she exclaimed, "if you want to see
how you look to-day, look at this !"
"How I wish I were half so lovely !" said Eliza-
beth, her lips trembling.
"I don't believe in flattering girls, but you 're
her living image!" answered Mrs. Trumbull, try-
ing to wipe her eyes with her apron without being
seen. "I declare ! it seems almost as though she
was going to speak to you."
Reverently Elizabeth pressed the picture to her
lips.
"Dear mother !" she faltered.
"And if that does n't bring your father back
here, nothing will," added Mrs. Trumbull.
"I shall put it on the little table by the bed,"
said Elizabeth, "and I shall bank it all up with
holly and evergreen."
"You won't need the evergreen," declared Mrs.
Trumbull. "I don't believe your father knows
about this picture. It will be almost like seeing
her again."
A week before Christmas, Mr. Churchill came
down one evening with an invitation for them
both to spend that day with him at "The Tow-
ers." But Elizabeth shook her head.
"No, Daddy," she said breathlessly. "You must
come down here on that day."
"But I thought—"
"Not another word, Daddy," answered Eliza-
beth, placing her fingers over his lips.
To her relief he did not insist.
"The chef will never forgive me if I 'm not
there for Christmas dinner," he laughed.
"You tell the chef that he 'd better spend the
day with his family," broke in Mrs. Trumbull.
"That 's the place for folks on Christmas !"
"All right," agreed Mr. Churchill.
The next six days were busy ones in the little
house by the lane. Wreaths of holly, tied with
scarlet ribbons, appeared in every window. In
the front room, and the dining-room, and "Dad-
dy's room," as she now called the upper front
chamber, Elizabeth also hung long festoons of
green and scarlet. She quite exhausted two
weeks' allowance in these purchases, which Mrs.
Trumbull considered extravagant.
"First thing you know, you won't have enough
to buy your Christmas dinner," protested the good
lady.
"It is n't the dinner that 's going to count," de-
clared Elizabeth, "it 's having the house bright
and cheerful and homelike and Christmasy."
"Maybe you 're right," nodded Mrs. Trumbull.
On Christmas morning, it began to snow, and
this emphasized still more the bright colors
within. As early as ten o'clock, Elizabeth lighted
the open fire in the front room.
"I wish I could light the candles, too," she hesi-
tated.
"Sakes alive, child !" exclaimed Mrs. Trumbull,
"you don't need anything more than that picture
up-stairs. I feel as though your mother's pres-
ence were lighting the whole house."
"You do ?" asked Elizabeth, eagerly. "And so
do I. But Daddy—"
"Don't you worry about him. I 've kind of felt
all this week he must have known that was up
there. He 's been more like his old self than I 've
seen him in ten years."
"Oh, I wish the day would hurry to one
o'clock," Elizabeth exclaimed impatiently.
She went up-stairs to dress, and by the time she
had finished, she had no more than time to hurry
down and take a look at all the good things in the
kitchen, before there was a knock at the front
door. She herself opened it to admit her father.
1912.]
THE LADY OF THE LANE
981
"Merry Christmas, Daddy !" she cried.
"And to you, my dear," he answered.
She took his hat and coat from him and hung
them up. Then as he stepped toward the front
room, she seized his hand.
"Come with me, Daddy," she whispered.
In some wonder, he followed her up the
stairs. Before opening the door, she paused
and kissed him once again. Then, without a
word, she led him in. His eyes fell at once upon
the picture by the bed. With something almost
like a cry he crossed to it, seized it, and
held it before him with a trembling hand.
"Where— where did you get this?" he
asked.
"It was here all the time— waiting for
you, Daddy," answered Elizabeth.
He looked around the familiar room.
"It seems as though — it seems as
though she must be here," he murmured.
Trembling, half between sobs and
laughter, Elizabeth waited. There was
so much she wanted to say that she
could n't say ! And yet she felt
as though the picture was
saying to him all that was
dumb on her own lips.
"She must be here !" he
repeated.
Then he turned to the
girl. His tense mouth re-
laxed. He drew his daugh-
ter into his arms.
"Why, she is here !" he
cried. "Dear little Lady of
the Lane !"
"And you, Daddy, won't
you stay here, too?" whis-
pered Elizabeth.
"Yes," he answered. "This
is the place for me — here in
this little house with you."
From below there was the
sound of a loud rap on the
kitchen door, and a moment
later they both heard Roy's
voice in the hall, calling:
"Merry Christmas, everybody ! where are you ?"
"Merry Christmas, Roy !" answered Elizabeth.
"Can you come down a moment?" he shouted
back.
Holding her father's hand, Elizabeth led him
down into the little sitting-room. Roy was carry-
ing in his arms a box as tall as he was.
"From the fellows," he said as he presented it.
"To the little Lady of the Lane, with a Merry
Christmas."
With trembling fingers, she undid the string,
and found seventeen beautiful long-stemmed roses.
WHY, SHE /S HERE ! ' HE CRIED. 'DEAR LITTLE LADY OF THE LANE!'
her
"Oh, Roy ! How beautiful !" she faltered,
voice breaking, and her eyes growing moist.
But she did n't have time to say more before
there was another rap at the door, and the ex-
pressman presented a second box which Eliza-
beth eagerly opened. It contained a beautiful
tennis racket from the Old-Fashioned Girls, with
the very best wishes for a Merry Christmas.
THE END.
AN ANTOINETTE MONOPLANE IN FLIGHT
THE AEROPLANE
BY HAROLD S. LYNN
Less than eight years ago, the aeroplane was un-
known except to a few men who were conducting
experiments in secluded parts of the country.
The aeroplane is an American product, having
been demonstrated as practicable by the Wright
brothers, when others were just awakening to
the possibilities of such machines. The French-
men have taken hold of this new invention in
their usual way, and have progressed so rapidly
in the art and science of mechanical flight, that
they are several years in advance of us at pres-
ent.
There are three different types of flying-ma-
chines, the ornithopter, the helicopter, and the
aeroplane. The ornithopter is a type modeled
after the birds, and was designed to fly by flap-
ping or beating wings. Numerous inventors have
tried this theory, but failed to accomplish any-
thing of importance. The helicopter was de-
signed to lift vertically into the air by means of
propellers. There is a strong belief that the prin-
ciple of the helicopter is correct, but, up to the
present time, nothing has been achieved in that
direction, the aeroplane being the only type that
has been successful as yet.
Under the general name aeroplane, we have the
monoplane, the biplane, the triplane, and the mul-
tiplane. The monoplane consists of one set of
planes, or wings, and resembles the bird in shape
and design, while the biplane follows the lines
of the old box-kite, and is made up of two planes,
or curved surfaces, placed one above the other.
Adding another plane above the biplane, we have
a triplane. A machine consisting of more than
three planes arranged in this way, we call a mul-
tiplane, as shown on page 984. Machines of the
triplane and multiplane types have flown, but
have proved very unsatisfactory and difficult to
control while in the air.
An aeroplane consists of one or more curved
surfaces so placed as to obtain the greatest
amount of entering edge, a body, or frame-work,
a vertical and horizontal rudder, ailerons, or
wing-warping devices for maintaining lateral bal-
ance, and last, but not least, the vital part, the
motor and propeller, which drives or pulls it
THE AEROPLANE
983
on its course. The motor is usually placed in
the forward part of a monoplane, so that the
propeller pulls the machine through the air ;
while in the biplane it is set in the rear, where
the propeller pushes the machine. An aeroplane
is made of wood, bamboo, steel tubing, wire,
cloth, and light metal . castings and fastenings.
The planes are made of curved ribs, braced and
held together by wooden beams and fine cable.
These planes, or wings, are then covered on one
or both sides with silk or canvas especially pre-
pared or treated with rubber or a similar sub-
stance. All wires or cables are fitted with small
turnbuckles to enable a person to wire the ma-
chine "true" and hold it rigid in that position.
Cut or loosen the wires in an aeroplane, and it
would be useless, so you can appreciate the value
of this small item.
America has produced two successful aero-
planes—the Wright and the Curtiss— both of
which are biplanes. France is apparently partial
to the monoplane, having produced numerous
types that have met with brilliant success. Fore-
most of her airmen was Bleriot, who, in 1909, was
the first to succeed in making an aeroplane cross-
ing of the English Channel, a distance of twenty-
two miles. He used a monoplane of his own
A WRIGHT BIPLANE IN FLIGHT (NEW TYPE).
Showing the vertical and horizontal rudder in the rear.
much steadier flier than the biplane, owing to its
decreased head-resistance. Many aviators also
claim that the former is easier to handle and con-
trol during flight.
Designers and builders are constantly making
changes in their measurements, and placement of
controls, so that it is difficult to keep pace with
LATEST TYPE OF CURTISS BIPLANE
:i'TENANT WAL
!R, U. S. A., ABOUT TO START.
make. This feat was considered wonderful at that
time, although it has been repeated frequently
since. The monoplane is very speedy, and is a
them. The rudder used for steering the biplane
up or down (a horizontal rudder) was originally
placed forward of the main planes, but builders
984
THE AEROPLANE
[Sept.,
are gradually doing away with this, and placing
it in the rear, together with the vertical rudder.
A MULTIPLANE.
This machine was unsuccessful.
A machine without forward controls is termed a
headless-flier. The Curtiss machine embodies the
simplest and yet most natural
control that has been pro-
duced.
The latest Curtiss machine,
such as is furnished the
United States Army, is small,
compact, and swift. It weighs
less than seven hundred
pounds complete. The planes
are double surface, that is,
they are covered on both
sides, whereas the old type
was covered on top only, thus
exposing the ribs and beams,
and causing more resistance.
The operator's seat is placed
just forward of the lower
plane, and, in front of this, is
a vertical steering-post and
wheel. A short bamboo pole
connects the wheel with the
front elevator (horizontal
rudder), and by pulling this
wheel backward or pushing
it forward, the operator may ascend or descend.
A small cable fits in a groove around the wheel
and runs back to the vertical rudder at the rear,
so that when he desires to turn to right or left,
during flight, all that is necessary is to turn
the wheel in the required di-
; rection.
You will note in the illus-
tration that a steel frame fits
about the aviator's shoulders
and is fastened to the seat.
This is what we term the
aileron control for maintain-
ing lateral stability. These
ailerons, two in number, are
about the same shape and
size as the front elevator, or
rudder; and they are hinged,
one at each end, to the rear
outer upright or post. They
are wired to the shoulder
control in such a way that
when the man leans to one
side or the other, they work
in the opposite direction.
"Lateral stability" means
keeping the machine from
tipping sidewise, and in even
balance.
When the machine is ready
for flight, the engine is
cranked by pulling down the propeller, which
also acts as a fly-wheel. This propeller turns
A WRIGHT BIPLANE (OLD TYPE).
Showing the controlling levers, and position of the motor, radiator, and propellers.
from 1800 to 2000 revolutions per minute, and
pushes against the air just as a small propeller
on a boat pushes against the water. This mo-
igiz.]
THE AEROPLANE
985
Copyright by H. M. Benner.
GLEN H. CURTISS FLYING OVER LAKE KEUKA, NEAR HAMMONDSP^RT, NEW YORK.
►
tion first propels the machine over the ground,
and when it has attained a speed of twenty-five
or thirty miles an hour, the operator pulls the
wheel toward him, thus elevating the front rud-
der, and the machine gradually sails upward.
When he has climbed to a suitable height, he
slowly pushes the wheel from him, until the ma-
chine acquires a horizontal line of flight. If
struck by a slight air-current on the side, it will
cause the machine to tilt in a dangerous manner.
To overcome this, the aviator leans in the oppo-
site direction from that in which the machine is
tipping, this action arranging the ailerons so that
the one on the low side tilts up, causing that side
to rise, and the one on the high side tilts down,
causing that side to lower.
When he is ready to descend, he pushes the
wheel away from him, tilting the elevator down-
ward, and the machine then swoops earthward.
When within several feet of the ground, he
brings it back level by elevating the front control,
and shuts off his motor. This causes the machine
to gradually skim over the ground until stopped
by the wheel-brake— and the flight is over.
We now come to the Wright machine, but as
we have found out the principal parts, its descrip-
tion will not take so much space. The Wright
machine, unlike any other, uses two propellers
turning in opposite directions, which make only
four hundred revolutions per minute. They are,
however, capable of driving this machine (which
is considerably larger than the Curtiss) through
the air at the rate of forty-five miles per hour.
The planes are double surface, and heavier and
thicker than those of the Curtiss machine. You
will note in one of the illustrations that the con-
trols differ considerably from that of the Curtiss.
In place of a steering-post and wheel, they use
two levers. The machine is equipped with three
levers, but the two outer ones are duplicates, one
being used when instructing pupils to fly.
The Wrights were the originators of a most
novel and effective control. The lever shown in
the center performs a compound duty, — first, that
of warping the wing-tips at the rear edge in op-
posite directions (like the ailerons on the Curtiss
machine), which is accomplished by pushing or
pulling the lever back and forth; second, that of
vertical steering, which is done by turning the
handle at the top of this lever to right or left.
The outer levers operate the horizontal rudder in
the rear (formerly placed in front). These levers
work in the same way as the steering-post on the
Curtiss flier.
On many of the foreign machines, vertical
steering is accomplished by using the feet in
much the same manner as that with which boys
steer a bob-sled when coasting downhill.
986
THE AEROPLANE
Progress in aviation during the past two years
has been due to the improvement of the aeronau-
tical gasolene motor. The designs and principles
of the aeroplane as first produced by Bleriot, the
Wrights, Curtiss, and Farman, are practically
unchanged. Minor changes have been made in
construction and in the placing of control rudders,
but to the uninitiated they appear very much the
same as they were two years ago. The cost of
constructing a machine like the Curtiss is about
$400. An equipment, including motor, propeller,
radiator, etc., will cost from $1500 to $2000, al-
It is possible, however, that some one will dis-
cover some new means of navigating the air-
lanes, and so do away with the modern aeroplane.
The value of the aeroplane in time of war is
unquestionable, and the various governments,
realizing this fact, have taken up the matter seri-
ously, and are training men in the use of them.
The United States Army and Navy have both
been supplied with machines, and are constantly
adding new ones to their equipment.
Recent experiments have been carried out to
determine the possibility of carrying mail by
n
A WRIGHT BIPLANE (OLD TYPE).
Note the way in which the wings are worked to prevent the machine from turning over when in flight.
though not actually worth over $500, so that the
actual cost of an aeroplane is less than $1000, and
yet the price of a first-class machine, complete,
ranges from $3000 to $10,000.
Commercially, the aeroplane is useless in its
present state. It cannot carry any great weight,
it will not stand any extra strain, and is unable to
fly unless the weather be almost perfect. Auto-
matic stability is still in an imperfect stage, and
the motors are not altogether reliable. Last, but
not least, it is a very expensive machine, both in
its first cost and in the outlay necessary to keep
it in proper condition.
These faults, as well as many others, must be
overcome before we have a practical flying-ma-
chine. Danger must be eliminated to a greater
degree, and to do this, it is necessary to produce a
machine that will automatically balance itself. A
thoroughly reliable motor and a machine capable
of standing any extra strain suddenly placed upon
it are other requirements of the future aeroplane.
aeroplane. It has proven to be a great novelty,
but beyond that it is of no consequence. I believe
that eventually it will be possible to transport mail
by such means, but that it will be some time be-
fore such routes are permanently established.
In spite of the many fatalities of the past year,
women as well as men are constantly taking up
the study of flight, some as a means of making a
living, while others follow it for the sport and
pleasure they derive from it ; and it is not un-
likely that this will continue until the welkin is
full of various aircrafts both public and private.
Many predict that ten years from now the world
will cease to wonder at the man who goes tearing
along overhead at the rate of one hundred miles
or more an hour, or the midnight air-riders who
come sailing over the roofs of the sky-scrapers to
settle on some hotel's landing-stage to partake of
an evening luncheon. And probably we cannot
even imagine, as yet, the great possibilities of the
aeroplane of the future.
THE SEA-SERPENT.
(an illusion.)
DRAWN BY BONNIBEL BUTLER.
987
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE
Chapter XXIII
SLY PUSS PEGGY
I hurried back to Brother John as Mrs. Mum-
mer bade me, and I noted on the way that the
arrival of Colonel Taunton had had a decided
effect upon the British officers. They had stopped
their loud talking and laughing, and, instead of
lounging about the hall as they had when I came
down-stairs, they stood in groups, speaking in
low tones and with an air of alertness about
them. Evidently the new commander did not
tolerate the lax ways of Blundell and his like.
This I thought might help us.
"At any rate, we won't be entirely at the mercy
of Captain Blundell," I said to myself as I hur-
ried back to my room.
Locking the door behind me, I hastened to the
book-shelf, and in a moment had opened the
panel letting me into the secret chamber. I had
expected to find Brother John still lying as I had
left him, but, much to my surprise and delight,
he was stretched on the small bed in one corner
of the room, and smiled brightly as he saw me.
"Oh, I 'm so glad you are better," I exclaimed ;
for, though he was still pale and weak, he seemed
more like himself.
"I '11 be fit in no time," he answered; "but I
played you a scurvy trick to swoon like a silly
woman, and you alone ! How did you manage to
drag me in here?"
I told him just what had happened, and at the
end he praised me for a brave girl, vowing that
surely I had saved his life.
"For, Bee," he explained, "that man Blundell
will not have forgotten that I was here once be-
fore, and he 'd bring the charge of spy against
me if I were taken, be sure of that. But he
won't catch me now, Bee, though I 'd like to
catch him."
We talked a little further, and he told me
what I had already guessed, that it was into this
secret room he had disappeared so mysteriously
once before. Soon, however, I saw that he was
too weak to talk much, and remembering the pos-
set, I went to fetch it.
Thinking it best to leave my chamber door
locked, I passed through the dressing-room into
the one where Peggy slept, and there found the
girls on the bed. The long hours of anxiety in
the vaults during the battle had worn them
out. I, too, felt the strain of it, and would have
been glad of a rest, but I had other things to
think of.
I tiptoed to the door, but some sound waked
Peggy, who sat up in bed and called me.
"Oh, Bu-Bu-Bu-Bee," she cried, "did you know
he 's de-de-dead?"
"Dead, Peggy?" I said, alarmed, for the
thought of her brother Bart popped into my
head. "Who is dead?"
She got off the bed, and, picking up something
in her arms, came running to me.
"He was sh-sh-shotted," she murmured, her
voice breaking, and she held out to me the sol-
dier doll we had posted at the window, and there,
sure enough, was a bullet hole through his body.
"Poor fellow !" I said ; "but we must remem-
ber that he was a brave soldier who died at his
post, fighting for his country."
"Ye-ye-yes," answered Peggy, "and to-to-to-
morrow we must bu-bu-bury him."
"Bury him?" called Polly from the bed, having
waked at our talk. "Nonsense, child ! Dolls
cost good, hard money which is not easy come
by. I '11 mend the hole for you and put a sash
over it, and he '11 be as good as ever he was."
"Nay, you shall do no su-su-such thing !" re-
torted Peg, vehemently. "He di-di-died for his
c-c-country, and he sh-shall never again b-b-be
the s-s-sport of idle children."
It svas a very grown-up idea for so little a
maid, yet I sympathized with it fully.
"Yes, Peg dear, we will bury him as a soldier
should be buried" ; and telling her to hop back
into bed, I went off for the posset.
It was quite dark by this time, and I had little
fear that I should be seen carrying the bowl. Nor
was I ; and when I put it into Brother John's
hands, I was overjoyed to see the hearty way he
supped it. Afterward he felt much better, and
said he was strong enough to get into bed with-
out help, and that I had better go for a rest. So
I kissed him good night and went out with the
empty bowl, closing the panel behind me.
I wanted, of course, to be rid of the dish, for
having it about our sleeping-rooms would create
suspicion if it was seen; so I thought the best
plan was to run at once to the kitchen with it.
The hall was dark, except where the lights on
the floor below shone against the walls, and I
started along without dread of danger ; but
scarce had I gone ten feet, when a figure stepped
out of the shadow and gripped my arm, dragging
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
989
"SHE TOOK FROM UNDER HER APRON OUR POOR WOUNDED DOLL." (SEE PAGE 993.)
me to the top of the stairs, where the light from
the lower hall made all plain.
"What have you there?" asked Captain Blun-
dell, pointing to the bowl.
' 'T is naught but an empty dish," I said as
coolly as I was able.
"And who have you been feeding out of it?"
was his next question, and I was put in a quan-
dary, for I ever hated a lie. "Nay, do not think
to fool me with some trumped-up story," he
sneered, noting my hesitation ; "out with the
truth of it."
"If I told you," I began, "that I had been feed-
ing the cat, you would not believe me, so I shall
say nothing." And I closed my lips tightly, fear-
ing lest they should tremble and betray the terror
that had seized me at sight of him.
He looked at me suspiciously, and would have
pressed the matter further but that there came
the sound of gentle mewing from the room
within, which surprised me even more than it did
him, for he evidently believed what I had in-
tended he should, and fearing, no doubt, to make
himself ridiculous, released me and went down
the stairs.
I turned to the door, which was open a crack,
and Peg's little head stuck out.
" 'T is well I do-don't stu-stu-stutter when I
mew," she said, with a sly laugh.
Chapter XXIV
I APPEAL TO THE COLONEL
That meeting in the hall with Captain Blundell
was the first of many, for thereafter he kept up
his spying so persistently, that for a time we
were well nigh in a panic. What had prompted
his suspicion I knew not, but that he had it there
was no doubt, for at the most unexpected times
and places he would appear with the demand of
what my errand might be. He was not so bold
nor so rough as he had been before Colonel
Taunton came, for I think he feared to use
openly brutal tactics ; but he evidently remem-
990
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[Sept.,
bered how Brother John had given him the slip
before, and meant to discover the secret of it if
he could.
This, of course, made it most difficult for me
to carry food to Brother John, and there were
times when he had to wait throughout the entire
day with but dry bread. I early brought a kitten
to our rooms to give color to my previous sug-
gestion, and it still served as an excuse in case
of need; but the quantity and kind of food suited
to so small an animal was hardly enough to sus-
tain a large man, who, as he regained his strength
and needed building up after his wound, devel-
oped a huge hunger that craved not victuals in
bowls of kitten's size, but good dishes of roast
beef.
Brother John fumed, and Mrs. Mummer was
beside herself, but to show annoyance at this con-
stant watching would be a confession that there
were grounds for suspicion.
We were forced, then, to watch Captain Blun-
dell as carefully as he watched us, and whenever
he rode away on some errand, Brother John
feasted royally; but this was seldom, because the
British were very inactive, and seemed satisfied
to occupy Philadelphia and the country near at
hand.
But, even with Captain Blundell gone, our
way was not always open, for there were soldiers
about the kitchen, and Mrs. Mummer was forced
to storm them out of it in order to prepare those
dainties she considered needful for the invalid
up-stairs.
Polly and Betty had no idea that Brother John
was in the house, but of Peggy I could not be
so sure. She was so little, and so devoted to me,
that she was constantly at hand, and there were
many times when Mrs. Mummer and I forgot her
presence entirely. But she never hinted by word
of mouth that she guessed the secret, though she
would give me a glance now and then, as if to
say, "I know."
Matters had been this way for some days when,
one evening, I saw Captain Blundell ride down
the drive leading out of Denewood. The other
officers were just gone in to dinner, and it oc-
curred to me that here was a splendid chance to
get a good meal to Brother John, and at the same
time to take away a huge pile of dishes that had
been accumulating in his room; for taking his
food to him was but half the risk.
I ran to the kitchen and whispered my news
to Mrs. Mummer, and she, instantly seizing the
opportunity, drove out the lounging privates, and
filled a large platter for Brother John. I hur-
ried with it to the secret room, and he fell upon
it ravenously, for I think it was the first warm
bite he had had that day. When I told him that
Blundell was gone, he agreed with me that it was
too auspicious a moment to be missed, so I
started back with a pile of empty dishes, planning
to make two trips of it.
Peg was in her room when I went through,
but, though she opened wide her eyes, she said
nothing, and I stepped into the hall.
Hardly had I done so, when Captain Blundell
stood before me.
"Ah, ha!" he cried triumphantly, "you thought
I had gone, did n't you? Well, I came back— and
just in time, too! 'T is a vastly hungry kitten
you harbor," he went on, with a mocking sneer.
"Art sure 't is not a tiger cub?"
"Think you no one eats here but yourselves,
sir?" I retorted, determined to put a bold front
on the matter, though far from feeling cour-
ageous.
"Nay !" he said, with a laugh. "Nay, I see
quite plainly that there are others. One other at
least," he added significantly.
"Now speak out what you want to do," I said
desperately. I felt our position was most seri-
ous, for, though Brother John was well hidden,
too strict a search might reveal the existence of
the secret room. "What is it you want?" I went
on. "You have dogged my steps day and night,
till I cannot turn without running into you and
listening to your hints. What is it that you
wish?"
I think he was a little taken aback at my blunt-
ness, but he felt sure of himself, and answered
promptly :
" 'T is in my mind, miss, that you have some
one concealed in your room, and I mean to have
it searched."
I set down the pile of dishes on the floor, re-
solved to do a desperate thing. I felt that a
search would have to be made, but I meant to
disarm suspicion if I could.
"That," I retorted, "you shall not do !"
"Vastly brave !" he taunted. "Will you pie-
vent it?"
"Aye," was my answer, "for I shall ask for a
search myself !" and I moved toward the stairs.
"I 'm go-go-going with you, Bu-Bu-Bu-Bee,"
said Peggy, who, having heard my talk with the
captain, had come into the hall. So, hand in
hand, we ran down the steps and entered the
dining-room.
Now, although he had been there for some
days, I had never come into direct contact with
Colonel Taunton. First of all, because he was
busy in the library, which he had made his own
quarters, and, next, because I had little to say
to any of the officers, though with two or three
igi2.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
991
of the younger men I had exchanged civilities,
for the great majority had treated us with every
consideration.
So it was not with fear for myself, or dread
of how I should be received, that I trembled as I
entered, but because of the desperateness of the
step I was about to take.
As Peg and I stood in the doorway, there was
a moment's silence, and Colonel Taunton, at the
head of the table, saw us.
"Whom have we here ?" he asked.
" 'T is Mistress Beatrice Travers, who is chate-
laine of this estate, sir," answered one of the
younger officers who had always been polite to
us. "And the younger miss is little Peggy Tra-
vers, her cousin."
Colonel Taunton, like the courteous gentleman
he was, rose to his feet and made us so grand a
bow, that I thought at first he must be mocking
us; but I was mistaken.
"Pray be seated," he said, "and let me thank
you for this opportunity to express our apprecia-
tion of your hospitality."
"Nay, I will stand," I replied; "my errand is
soon told. I come to beg a favor."
"Now," said Colonel Taunton, heartily, "this
is kind of you ! Then will we feel less in your
debt. What is it, and 't is done ?"
"I would beg you, sir," I answered, "to have
my chamber thoroughly searched, and then to re-
lieve me of the spying of this— this— gentle-
man" ; and I pointed to Blundell, who, rather red
in the face, stood in the doorway.
"Have your room searched?" cried Colonel
Taunton, in surprise.
"Nay, believe me, it is necessary !" I said. "I
cannot even feed the cat but he must be after
me, insisting that I have some one concealed
there."
"You were not feeding a cat with a stack of
dishes as high as your chin !" put in Blundell,
sullenly.
I controlled a desire to drop that chin a little,
for at the moment it was very high indeed.
"You have our dining-room — and you are
quite welcome," I added to forestall polite pro-
tests; "but we must eat somewhere."
"Aye, to be sure !" said Colonel Taunton,
catching the meaning I wished to imply. "I re-
gret that matters are in such a state that it is
needful for us to discommode you."
"Colonel Taunton," Blundell broke in desper-
ately, "I am as certain as that I am alive that
there is some one concealed in that girl's room,
and I think it is a wounded man, from the posset
I have seen carried there. She makes a plausible
story of it, but I am sure she is lying to you."
"Nay now, Blundell, you go too far !" ex-
claimed one of the young officers, half rising.
"Gentlemen, silence !" said Colonel Taunton,
sternly; "you forget where you are. Captain
Blundell, you will be more careful of your
speech."
"If you will but search the room, 't will end
the matter," I said boldly.
"Nay, it goes against me to reward your hos-
pitality in such a fashion," the colonel demurred.
"What are these suspicions founded upon, Cap-
tain Blundell? Weightier reasons, I hope, than
a few soiled dishes."
"Sir," Blundell began, "this girl is an arrant
rebel, and, to be plain, in this house we are in a
nest of them. Her brother, John Travers, is
Allan McLane's right-hand man, and a pestifer-
ous nuisance to boot. The last time I was quar-
tered here the impudent rascal had the hardi-
hood to enter the house and tell a dozen of us to
our faces that we were to treat his sister some-
what differently; and when we went to take him,
he vanished from this very room there now is
talk of. I beg you take her at her word, for I
think she is not so desirous of having a search
as she would have us believe."
"Sir !" I broke in, "I was as ignorant of where
my brother went as Captain Blundell himself, but
he is mistaken when he says I do not wish the
room searched. I should like the matter deter-
mined so that I shall not be constantly dogged
with his attentions."
Colonel Taunton shook his head thoughtfully.
I hoped he would agree to the search and per-
haps go himself, and, taking a casual glance about
the room, retire satisfied; but I saw plainly that
he did not like the business, for he was a gen-
tleman.
He lifted his head presently and beckoned
Peggy.
"Come hither, little maid," he said. "I 've a
babe about your age at home." It was evident
that he was fond of children, for, when Peg went
up to him, he picked her up and set her on his
knee, caressing her in a manner showing that he
was used to little folk.
Peggy perched there for a moment, regarding
the colonel gravely, then she spoke :
"I 'm the youngest, bu-bu-but I 'm no
ba-ba-babe."
"Nay, to be sure !" cried the colonel, starting
back in pretended surprise. "I see that now, and
I think you are old enough to tell a true tale."
"Aye," answered Peg, "I '11 tell no o-other."
"Gentlemen," Colonel Taunton proposed, speak-
ing to the table at large, "let us make this the
test of the matter. 'Out of the mouths of babes,'
'FRIENDS, I GIVE YE GREETING!'" (see page 996.)
992
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
993
you know. Now tell me," he went on kindly to
Peggy, "have you seen a wounded Continental
soldier here?"
"Ye-ye-yes, sir," said Peg, and I feared we
were lost.
"What did I tell you !" cried Blundell, in tri-
umph.
"And is he very ill?" asked the colonel.
A hush settled over the room while all waited
for her answer.
"Oh !" said Peg, "wo-wo-worse than that.
He 's de-de-dead!"
"What !" exclaimed the colonel, "dead ! where
is he?"
"Ri-ri-right he-here," said Peg, and she took
from under her apron our poor wounded doll.
A shout of laughter went up that shook the
roof. Colonel Taunton wiped the tears from his
eyes to discover that little Peggy was in real
tears, for she thought they were laughing at her,
and did not like it.
"I think there is no need of a search, Mistress
Travers," he said, "and I will be your guarantee
against annoyance in the future." Then he
sought a gift for Peg, but could find nothing but
a tiny gold snuff-box.
' 'T will do for patches," he said, dusting out
the snuff and offering it to her.
But she demurred.
"C-c-can I ta-take it, Bub-Bee, from a real
B-B-B-Britisher?" she asked.
She was so innocent of offense that Colonel
Taunton laughed as heartily as any one over this
sally. And Peggy thanked him very prettily, and
even offered him a kiss, when I said that she
might keep the box.
"And how was the soldier shot ?" asked Colonel
Taunton, who was evidently loath to let Peg go.
"In the discharge of his du-du-duty," said Peg,
gravely.
"Then," said the colonel, "he must be buried
with all the honors of war, and, as his comrades
are not here, we must do it for them."
And so it came about that, next day, Colonel
Taunton directed the funeral, and one unknown
private of the Continental army was buried with
most unusual honors.
Thus, for the time being, we were no longer
troubled by Captain Blundell; but he was a bitter
enemy, and the hour came when he returned to
take such a revenge that even now I tremble to
think of it.
Chapter XXV
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
My direct appeal to Colonel Taunton had the ef-
fect we desired, and I had the satisfaction of see-
Vol. XXXIX.— 125.
ing Captain Blundell ride off to Philadelphia the
next morning, and heard from Lieutenant Rol-
lins, the young officer who had spoken for me at
the table, that he had changed his command, and
that we were rid of him for a while at least.
Our chief worry now was the fate of Bart, for
we had had no news of him; but we consoled our-
selves with the thought that bad news travels
apace, and hoped that "no news was good news,"
as the saying is.
In the next two or three days, Brother John
improved wonderfully, and was wild to be gone.
He fumed around the little secret room, vowing
that there was work for him to do, and that he
must be about it. But Colonel Taunton was too
good a soldier to suit our purposes. The lax dis-
cipline that had prevailed heretofore was now
amended, and, had it been a fort they guarded,
the regulations could not have been more strictly
enforced.
The question how he was to get free of the
house and grounds was most perplexing, and
Brother John puzzled over it day and night.
"That crack on the head stole away my brains !"
he grumbled. "My wits are addled ! Faith, were
Allan here, he would have a thousand plans for
playing with these British officers."
"Nay," I answered, for I wished to keep him,
and feared to have him run any risks ; "nay, Cap-
tain McLane, nor any other man, could come
through their lines !"
"Bee, you don't know McLane !" exclaimed
Brother John, his eyes lighting with enthusiasm.
"There is none like him. He goes straight to his
point, caring little what may be between. 'T is
boldness does the trick, Bee, and no lion is bolder
than Allan McLane. I give myself two days
more to get back the strength in my legs, and
then I '11 break for it, come what may !"
It was that very same afternoon that I heard
voices in Peggy's room, and, knowing that Polly
and Betty were in the great hall with certain of
the British officers, I wondered greatly who could
be there, and straightway went in to see. In the
dim light I could distinguish the figure of a man,
and caught my breath anxiously.
"John !" I exclaimed, for I thought, of course,
that it was he, "how can you take such risks ?"
The man turned a smiling face to me, and
Peggy giggled, whereat I saw that I was mis-
taken, for, though the stranger wore much the
same uniform as Brother John, he was at least
ten years older.
;' 'T is Mistress Bee !" he said, bowing. "Faith,
I 'd know you anywhere by John's description.
I 'm Allan McLane, very much at your service,"
and he bowed again, advancing a few paces.
994
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[Sept.,
I curtseyed, yet here was another danger
added, and already I seemed to have enough to
do to hide one Continental soldier in a house
full of the British.
"But what brought you here?" I asked, "and
how did you get in ?"
"I came for news of John, and I entered
through the front door," he answered calmly.
"Through the front door?" I gasped. "Then
they know you 're here, for the place is full of
them !"
"Nay, they know naught !" he chuckled.
"Though 't is true enough that there were many
of them. Had there been less, I might have had
to go out again, but one lone Continental among
all those redcoats was never noticed. So I came
in, without ostentation I may say, and seeing
Peggy's black head at the top of the stair, I made
for her. John told me she was never far from
your side."
"And I bu-bu-brought him he-here," Peggy put
in seriously. "It was qu-qu-quieter."
"Don't worry your head about me, Mistress
Bee," Captain McLane said, reassuringly. "And
now tell me of John? We have been most anx-
ious on his account. We found no trace of him
after the battle nor any news of his capture ; so,
thinking he might be trapped here at home, I
came in to see. Peggy tells me I am right, and
that he is here."
"Now, how did you know that?" I demanded
of Peggy, and she, with a most injured air, re-
plied:
"Well, I knowed it was n't a ki-ki-kitty,
c-c-cause you would n't act like a he-hen with
one du-du-duck for any one else but C-C-Cousin
J-J-John."
There was a laugh, of course, but I was too
troubled to forget my anxieties for long.
"And now take me to John," said Captain Mc-
Lane, "for I am anxious to set eyes on him."
As he spoke a great doubt gripped me, and the
thought of Captain Blundell popped into my
mind. Was this a trick to gain my secret?
"Nay !" I answered. "I shall not take you to
John until I know who you are. I have naught
but your word, and your coming in so easily
scarce seems credible."
" 'T is a little late to think of that, Mistress
Beatrice," he answered evenly; "but take me to
John, and you will be well assured."
"Assured of what?" I demanded, now thor-
oughly aroused. "Nay, though you have trapped
me into admitting he is here, 't is another matter
to find him; but 't is a scurvy trick to play upon
a child, if it is true you are a British officer dis-
guised in the uniform of our Continentals."
"Nay, do not torture yourself so," he said most
gently. "Truly I am Allan McLane."
"Oh, Bub-Bub-Bee," said Peggy, giggling
again, "don't be a ni-ni-nizzy ! Sure 't is Captain
McLane. I 've seen him at ho-home with Fa-Fa-
Father."
"Are you sure?" I asked anxiously, and she
nodded her small head positively.
"In that case I can only ask your pardon, Cap-
tain McLane," I begged; "but I am so put to it
at times that I scarce know how I stand."
"Nay, child, you are quite right," he returned ;
"and now let 's to John."
"If you will wait a moment," I said, "I will
speak to him," and, leaving them, I locked the
outer door and went in, setting the panel open as
I sometimes did to freshen the air. But instead
of telling Brother John, as I had first thought to
do, it struck me as fun to surprise him, so I re-
turned without a word.
Leaving Peg with instructions to call me if
she heard any unusual sounds in the hall, I took
Captain McLane in, and if there had been any
lingering doubt in my mind, it was at once put
away when I saw them meet.
"Allan !" cried Brother John, in a voice of sur-
prised delight. " 'T is impossible 't is you !" and
he grasped the outstretched hand eagerly.
Captain McLane seemed equally affected,
though he began at once to jest.
"You look like a plucked fowl, man !" he cried,
standing off and regarding Brother John criti-
cally. "I knew there were short commons in the
British camp, but had I known they were starv-
ing you in your own house, I would have driven
in a herd of beeves with my compliments."
"Nay, I am stronger than I look !" John re-
plied, "and had it not been for this tyrant here,
I should have made a dash for it long since."
"And have been shot for your pains," I put in,
"or taken prisoner, which is almost as bad."
"Aye, you 're right there !" John agreed, and
with that Peg called me softly, and I went out,
leaving the men together.
"What is it?" I asked, for I saw by Peggy's
face that she had news of some sort.
"They are ta-ta-talking of Allan McLane
do-do-down there," she whispered.
I hurried to the top of the stairs to listen, and,
sure enough, Peg was right.
"Faith !" we heard Mr. Rollins say, "I love the
man ! I wish we had a few such in our army.
A dozen troopers, you say? And he knocked
them all about him and came through? Faith,
't is fine !"
"Of whom are you speaking, Mr. Rollins?" I
heard Colonel Taunton demand sharply.
1912.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
995
"Of Allan McLane, sir," the former replied un-
abashed. "Word has just come that he is within
our lines, having bested a little matter of a dozen
troopers."
"And you applaud him? Are you, then, a
rebel sympathizer?"
"Nay, sir, I applaud him not as a rebel but as
a brave man and a ready. I say had we more
such, we would be better off."
"I cannot gainsay you," answered Colonel
Taunton, "and I know well that, notwithstanding
your admiration, you will not let McLane slip
through your fingers if he comes within your
grasp. As for me, I only wish he would make
Germantown his goal ! I 'd like to see him ! I
think our British troopers might end by teaching
him a lesson."
"But, sir," some one broke in, "did you not
understand that he was seen coming into Ger-
mantown less than an hour ago?"
"Is that a fact !" cried the colonel. "Then we
will have him within the next hour. You will
see that the guards are doubled, Mr. Rollins, and
we will issue further orders for the apprehension
of this pestiferous rebel !"
Thereupon he sent out commands right and
left, many of which I remembered and hastened
to tell Brother John and Captain McLane.
"Nay, by my faith !" said Captain McLane,
thoughtfully, "this gentleman would like to see
me, I am thinking. Sure 't would be discourteous
to disappoint him, for 't is in my mind to ask his
help to pass the lines into Philadelphia."
"Nay, that you cannot do !" said Brother John.
"Howe guards the city as a treasure. What mad
idea have you in your mind?"
"Naught that is mad," answered Captain Mc-
Lane, reproachfully, as one unjustly accused. "I
think I will dine with Colonel Taunton and his
officers to-night, that 's all. And to do it, I shall
have to leave you now."
"But you cannot get out of here," Brother
John demurred.
"Oh, can't I ?" returned Captain McLane.
"You leave that to Peggy and me. We talked
that over the first thing. But ere I leave you, I
must tell you that Bart won through the battle
safely. I caught him, and I vow I thought the
young rascal an Indian till I saw his light eyes."
' 'T is good news !" cried John. "We have
been much worried about him, and I suppose I
should have put a collar and chain on him ; but
I confess I love his spirit."
"He is well and much puffed up with pride,"
Captain McLane went on. "He is inclined to
think that if the war were but carried on under
his orders, 't would soon be over. I sent him to
headquarters, where his advice will be appreci-
ated, and incidentally he will see his father there
and get the trouncing he stands in need of."
"That 's good of you," said John, warmly.
"No thanks," interrupted Captain McLane. "I
must be off. You have my orders to remain here
for three days more. Nay, do not grumble at
your superior officer." Then he turned to Peggy.
"Now, little lady, whenever you are ready."
Peggy, looking very important, left the room
for a moment, and upon her return began to issue
orders.
"You stay he-here, Bub-Bub-Bee, and listen
for un-un-unusual n-n-noises, and, Allan Mc-
Lane, yo-you c-c-come with ra-me."
He lingered a moment to bid me adieu and to
assure me that John would soon be right ; but
Peg stamped her foot.
"Did you n-n-not hear me say 'c-c-come'?"
she demanded.
Captain McLane straightened, gravely saluting.
"At your command, General !" he said, and
Peg, disdaining to reply, led him away.
Much to our surprise, she returned very
shortly.
"Is he gone?" I asked. "How did he get out?"
"Th-th-through the mo-mo-mouse's hole," said
Peg, with a wise smile.
"A mouse's hole for that great man !" I cried.
"What nonsense !"
"Nay, yo-you have your se-se-secrets, and I
have m-m-mine," and that was all she would say
of the matter.
Chapter XXVI
FRIEND WALN STEPS IN
That same day, when I took up Brother John's
evening meal, I asked about Captain McLane's
proposal to dine with the British officers.
"You don't think he really meant to do it?" I
questioned, for it seemed wholly impossible to
me, unless he wished to be captured.
"Aye, he meant it," replied Brother John ; "and
what 's more, he '11 do it !"
"I should love to see him catch them napping !"
I cried; "but if he should be taken — "
"He won't be," Brother John interrupted con-
fidently. "He goes about as if he had a charmed
life, though often enough the charms are shrewd
blows, as many a British trooper knows to his
cost. He '11 be there, Bee, I promise you, and
come away with some information. If you want
to see him, 't will be easy to sit in the pantry
behind the panel. I would I could be with you,
for 't is like to be amusing."
So then and there I made up my mind to play
eavesdropper at the officers' dinner that night.
996
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[Sept.,
We of the family held to our quiet country
ways, but the officers dined, as we thought, very
late, and often sat long over their wine, so it was
well into the night ere they rose from the table.
On this evening, I took my way to the pantry,
knowing that from there I could watch all that
went on, and remain unobserved.
The way of this was very simple. In the fat
days before the war, when the great roast which
was then known as "a baron of beef" was served
to the first table, to have a slice or two cut
from it, and then go back for the servants,
such barons were too large for easy handling, so
slides had been made in the paneling through
which they could be passed directly to a serving-
table in the dining-room. Now, when Mrs. Mum-
mer was put to it to make a little go a long way,
the slides remained closed, but upon opening
them a crack, I could see all that went on, while
I remained unobserved. So I settled myself for
a long evening.
When the officers came in, I was, of course,
disappointed, for somehow I had expected Cap-
tain McLane to appear with them, though how
he was to manage it I could not guess. However,
the officers seated themselves and their dinner
began.
They were at their soup when a loud knocking
sounded at the door, and, as visitors after night-
fall were rare, the conversation ceased while
Mummer went to answer the summons.
Soon a fretful voice was heard demanding
food and rest, after which, the visitor said, he
would pass on.
Mummer replied that the family had finished
their meal, but that if the gentleman would step
into the library, he would send a boy to attend to
his wants. The British officers were at meat in
the dining-room, he explained.
"The Society of Friends has ever been oh the
side of lawful authority," came the querulous
voice.
"That it has, the trimmers !" murmured one of
the younger men.
"If thou wilt go and tell the officers who waits
without, I think they will admit me to their
table," the visitor insisted.
"Who shall I say?" asked Mummer, frostily,
for he liked not Tories.
"Hast never heard of Joshua Wain ?" asked the
man, his tone showing surprise, and Mummer
returned to the dining-room.
Then all could hear the man without giving
directions for the care of his animal. "Feed the
jennet well. A warm mash would not go amiss.
A merciful man is merciful to his beast. Harry
her not, and speak gently, nor meddle not with
the saddle-bags. There 's naught there for thee !"
Within, Colonel Taunton spoke to his officers in
an undertone.
"The Quakers are well affected. 'T is not our
policy to offend them. Bid the gentleman enter,
Mummer!" he went on, raising his voice, "and
set a place for him upon my right."
I watched with interest as an oldish man, clad
in the plain garb of the members of the Society
of Friends, entered. He glanced around under
lowered lids, and, with a rather pinched mouth,
spoke :
"Friends, I give ye greeting !"
Then, as he was shown to his seat, he said,
with a great show of humility, "I asked but a
place at the foot of thy table." And again, as
he helped himself to enormous quantities of the
dishes Mummer presented to him, "We are of
the lowly on earth. A piece of bread and a few
herbs will suffice for me."
"Nay, now," said Colonel Taunton, " 't is well
known that the Quakers are an influential and
wealthy people, Mr. Wain."
"Call me not that !" said the guest with a
pained look. "We hold not with vain titles.
'Friend' is a word I would liefer hear."
"Friend Wain, then !" said the colonel, a trifle
impatiently. "And now may I ask you where
you come from and whither you mean to go?"
"I came from Philadelphia this morning, hav-
ing business in Whitemarsh, and to-night I re-
turn to Philadelphia. Had I not fallen in with
some of Allan McLane's rabble, I had passed
here long since and entered the city before night-
fall."
"But why should they detain you ? I thought
't was well understood that the Quakers were
non-combatants."
"They took me for other than I am; for one
of those who are known as fighting Quakers in
fact," he explained. "I hold that a man who
fights, aye, even one who resists oppression, is
no longer a member of our society, for they seek
in this world naught but peace and truth and
righteousness, with equal rights for all men."
At this I heard a murmur among the younger
men that they had not bargained for a "sermon,"
but Lieutenant Rollins leaned forward.
"Then," said he, "you have no servants among
you?"
"Surely !" replied Friend Wain, with a great
show of surprise.
"And call you that equal rights?" demanded
Mr. Rollins, triumphantly.
"Aye," answered the Quaker, with a twinkle
in his eye, "for to serve is a privilege. It is their
right not to live out if they prefer to starve !"
I9I2-]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
997
"Nay," said Rollins, with a laugh, "you are too
good a lawyer for a rough soldier !"
"Pray tell us," said Colonel Taunton, "what
thought you of the American forces you saw?"
"They seemed an unregenerate body," said
Friend Wain. "I fear they are lost to the beauty
of spiritual things. They are a prey to worldly
desires."
With that he pushed back his chair and rose.
"I must be on my way, for I know not how I
will enter the city at so late an hour."
"That you can hardly do without a pass," said
Colonel Taunton. "General Howe is very strict
since the late battle. Moreover, there is a strong
watch within the city."
"Now what dost thou tell me !" cried Friend
Wain, in great distress. "My Deborah will be
beside herself ! This is much worse than before
the British came — and we hoped for so much
from their occupation."
"Nay," exclaimed the colonel, "say not so ! I
can give you a pass that will enable you to go
where you will without trouble."
"If thou dost that, I will remember it in thy
favor," said the Quaker, with much show of
gratitude ; "and I will see to it that our meeting
shall be open to thee if thou shouldst come to
Philadelphia."
"We shall soon be in Philadelphia," answered
the colonel, "and, though 't is a confidence I am
giving you, I feel certain 't will not be betrayed.
I but await final orders to withdraw our troops
within the city."
"Thee interests me vastly !" said Friend Wain.
"But I should be on my way, for Deborah will
be anxious."
Colonel Taunton hurried to draw up a pass,
and, with rather cool thanks for his entertain-
ment, Friend Wain took his leave.
By this time I had given up all hope of Captain
McLane, and began to grow sleepy, but there was
no way for me to escape from the pantry without
being seen, except through the kitchen slide, and
I did not care to go the way of a baron of beef
before the soldiers and servants there, so, per-
force, I waited.
Dinner was long over, and the officers sat at
dessert, when again there came a loud knocking
at the front door.
"Now who will be our visitor this time," said
Colonel Taunton, just as Mummer entered with
a basket of wine.
' 'T was a country bumpkin brought this, and
said it was to be delivered to you," he said, hold-
ing it out to the colonel.
Around the neck of one of the bottles was a
string, to which was tied the knave of clubs, with
some writing upon it.
"Rollins, cut off the card and read the mes-
sage !" said the colonel. " 'T is most polite of
some one, and no doubt is a gift from a loyal sub-
ject of the king."
"For Colonel Taunton," read the lieutenant.
"To drink the success of the good cause and the
health of his friend the enemy, Allan McLane,
late Joshua Wain of the Society of Friends."
"My faith ! Done !" cried Rollins. "But 't is
worth it to have dined with a man like that !"
(To be continued.)
COMING HOME AGAIN
{" Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects")
BY GEORGE LAWRENCE PARKER
Twice since boyhood I have had that eager feel-
ing of wanting to throw my hat in the air and
cry out, "Hurrah!" or "Hallo!" or some other
good old boyish expression of wonder and de-
light. The first time was when I saw the ocean.
I was nineteen years old, and had lived inland
until I came east to enter college. My greatest
"entrance exam" was when, in the very first
week, I made my way by foot and trolley down
to Morris Cove, and at a turn in the road, there
it was ! The Atlantic Ocean ! I wonder if the
people on that common, every-day trolley knew
what an uncommon occurrence was taking place
in the mind and heart of one fellow-passenger. I
had to keep my hands in my pockets, for the im-
pulse to fling up my hat was almost too strong to
resist. To see the great body of water that
had no visible other side to it was a hat-lifting
event.
The second time this same emotion seized me
was when I returned, after three years abroad, to
the shores of our country, and from the deck
of the Deutschland watched the statue of Liberty
loom up in New York harbor, and saw the Singer
998
COMING HOME AGAIN
Building and its smaller sky-scraping neighbors
make that jagged line called the sky-line of New
York City. It is about this second impulse that
I want to tell you, for it has a great deal to do
with what we all ought to feel when we remem-
ber that we are American citizens. And I want
to do it because so many have written about their
sensations in "going abroad," but so few about
their sensations on coming home. And surely the
best thing about going to Europe, and Asia, and
Africa, as I had almost done, is in coming back
to America.
We Americans are not thoughtless, yet some-
times when we talk of patriotism, we shout and
"make the Eagle scream," instead of doing some
honest thinking.
As the Deutschland swung her big black form
up the bay, my first thought was, "Home again !"
Here was my own land, people of my own speech,
the green shores of the vast country, peopled by
ninety millions, and stretching unbroken from
New York Bay to San Francisco's Golden Gate
—this great land that was "mine," for we all
"own" the country of our birth.
But, that morning, as the statue of Liberty
lifted her hand to me, I felt more than this. I had-
been living in Russia, and had seen how small
are the chances there for a man ever being a
man in the same degree that he can be so here.
Many things are said of Russia that are not true.
There are many splendid things after all in that
great country. But still it is true that, coming
straight home from living two years in that em-
pire, I realized afresh how wonderful America is
in the chance that she gives to her sons to be
really men, to work out their own natures, and to
be themselves. It suddenly dawned upon me how
few hindrances and obstacles my country had ever
put in my way. I saw for the first time that from
my birth everything in my country's methods had
been planned for my good, and to help me, or at
least to help me to help myself. To be sure, there
are some unfair laws, and some evils in our gov-
ernment, but its general trend since the first has
been to help each man, and not to hinder him.
As I stood on deck that morning, one of hun-
dreds of passengers, I understood, and my heart
seemed to beat faster as I did so, that my country
is really a challenge to me to be a superior quality
of a man. I saw then that if I just looked around
me, at our schools, our free institutions, all of
which have been at my disposal since I knew how
to use them, I would see enough to invite me to
do my level best to rise above mean and low
things, and to grow worthy of my country.
In St. Paul's Cathedral in London, over one of
the doorways, is a stone in memory of the archi-
tect, Sir Christopher Wren, which says, "Reader,
if you would behold his monument, look around
you." So did my country call on me as I stood on
the Deutschland' s deck, "If you would see your
reasons for gratitude, for good living, for being a
man in the largest sense, look around you !"
Our country is so big that we may sometimes
feel that we cannot "take it all in." Well, that 's
just where the opportunity and the challenge lies.
I must be large-hearted if I am going to measure
up to my country, for, in that old oratorical
phrase, she reaches from the Atlantic to the Pa-
cific, and from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. To
be a base-hearted man in America is worse than
to be evil in any other country, and to throw away
chances here is more unworthy than anywhere
else in the world. It was a new call to me as I
came back home from continents cut up like
checker-boards to a continent spread out like a
wheat-field. I did not love Europe less, but I did
love America more ; and I think I had the right to
do so. For it seemed to me at that moment as if
I owed to my land everything in me that could be
called big, or noble, or fair, or decent, or worth
while.
New York, I suppose, is not often thought of
as a particularly homelike city. It has never been
my own home. Yet that morning I felt toward it
as if it were as small and lovable as my native
village ; while at the same time it was representa-
tive of my whole great country. As I stood on
the deck of the Deutschland, I understood, as
never before, the old story of the three brothers.
They were told that the one of the three who, on
returning home, should be the first to kiss their
mother, should be king. As soon as they landed,
two of them ran off home as fast as they could
to embrace their mother, but the third fell down
on the shore, put his lips to the soil of his native
land, and kissed the earth. That was his true
mother. And he was the king. Every American
is a king the moment he realizes what he owes to
his country, and only so can he be that true mod-
ern king — a good citizen.
Many immigrants were on the Deutschland
with me that day, seeing the goddess of Lib-
erty for the first time. None of them saw her
with gladder eyes than I did. They were being
born to this great land, I was being born again.
They were coming to a new liberty, I was coming
back to an old liberty which I had known but not
appreciated before. As all this came to me, like
something new yet old and dear, I did really this
time take off my hat, as I had not done when I
first saw the ocean. I did not shout, "Hurrah !"
but I said, almost with tears: "Henceforth I will
try to live up to the bigness of my country."
THE MAGNETISM OF THE FISHING-ROD
1000
THE MAGNETISM OF THE FISHING-ROD
[Sept.,
1912.]
THE MAGNETISM OF THE FISHING-ROD
1001
Vol. XXXIX. -126.
PLAYING THE GAME
(A sequel to " The Battle of Base-ball")
BY C. H. CLAUDY
Chapter IV
SOME POINTS OF STRATEGY
There are things in a ball game not mentioned
in the rules. A team made up of players who
had never seen nor read of a game, and had
never had any instruction outside of the rules,
would have no hit-and-run plays ; no squeeze
plays ; probably no men caught "flat-footed" off
base ; no double steals ; no delayed steals ; no
shifting of the infield according to the runners
on, the score, and the "outs"; no signaling; no
signal-stealing; no hidden-ball tricks; no "stall-
ing" tricks, by which a player is led to think a
ball is fielded in one place when it is really fielded
elsewhere — in fact, the very heart and soul of
base-ball would be missing. The batter would
hit or walk and patiently wait for his successor
to hit or walk to advance him. Runs would be in
exact proportion to hits, and outs would be made
only in the stereotyped ways, and — nobody would
care either to play or to see the game !
So it might be said, without much fear of con-
tradiction, that the strategy of the game, the
part played by brains and wits, is more to base-
ball than athletic ability to run, hit, field, or
throw, spectacular and exciting as plays made
only by strength, muscle, and skill must always be.
In spite of the fact that many professional
players complain that "there are no new plays,"
while it is true that much of the strategy of
base-ball has become so usual as to be, in many
of its special turns, well known, there is always
a chance to invent something new, to "pull off
something different." Indeed, this is one of the
charms of the game. And if you sit down with a
pencil, a piece of paper, a dozen small buttons for
players, and work out some strategy of your own,
you will only be doing what many a manager and
player do in the effort to catch sight of a new
angle of the game, and effect a play not generally
known to base-balldom.
Perhaps the easiest and most effective way to
play base-ball on a sheet of paper, is to take up
some play or some situation, in a game you have
seen, and try to figure out, from what actually
did happen, what might have happened had the
strategy of the play been different. For instance,
Fig. i shows an incident of a game played last
year between Philadelphia and Brooklyn. In the
fifth inning, this is the situation: there is one
out, a man on second, and the batter (Number 8
in the batting order) bunts. The catcher fields
the bunt midway down the path to the pitcher.
A throw to third or first will get a man— if it is
in time!
"Therefore," argues this catcher, "as I am
equally distant from first and third, and want by
all means to get the leading man, I will throw to
third."
He does so, the runner slides around the third
baseman, the other runner is safe on the "fielder's
choice," and the game goes merrily on — two men
on, and only one out.
The next batter, of course, bunts also, and with
the bunt, the bunt-and-run play (or "squeeze")
is tried ; the runner from third scores with a slide,
the batter being put out at first base, making two
out. But this brings the top of the batting order
up again, the leading man hits a sharp single to
right, the man on second scores, and the batting-
team gains a lead of two runs, which finally wins
the game.
Now, let us suppose that the catcher who
started all this trouble had been a strategist as
well as a stereotyped ball-player and thinker.
His mental processes would then have run some-
thing like this :
"I am equally distant from first and third. I
can throw to third without turning. But the man
from second has a long, long lead. I may not
catch him. I am sure to catch the runner going
to first. And that brings the opponents' pitcher
to the bat, and there will be two out. He can't
afford to bunt, he must hit. He is a weak batter.
He has struck out twice already. It is much bet-
ter to have the sure out, two out, a man on third,
a weak hitter up, than two on, one out, a weaker
hitter who can, however, bunt (with only one
out), and a leader of the batting list on deck!"
(Fig. 2).
The two diagrams show this simple little bit
of strategy very clearly, and the boy who worked
this out on a piece of paper, after seeing this par-
ticular catcher lose a game, himself shut off a
winning rally the very next afternoon with just
the play here suggested — which might be called
"taking the safe chance."
Perhaps the simplest, best-known piece of base-
ball strategy is the "hit-and-run." With a run-
ner on first, the signal is flashed that the batter
will hit, say, the third pitched ball (if he can).
PLAYING THE GAME
1003
The base-runner gets as long a lead as he dares,
and the instant the pitcher draws back his arm
for the pitch, is off for second. If the batter
misses the ball (as when the catcher has guessed
the play and called for a pitch-out), the runner
is making a straight steal ; with perfect handling,
he should be out at second by six feet or more.
If the batter hits the ball, he may hit into a
double play; he may simply "force" the man
going to second ; he may hit a plain sacrifice ; or
he may send the ball through the second base-
man's position (second baseman having covered
the bag to take the throw, as he sees the runner
on first start), with the result that this runner
careers on to third— which is really the whole
object of the play (Fig. 3).
Base-ball generals have lain awake nights de-
vising ways to stop this play. Some of them are
quite wonderfully conceived, indeed ! A small
lad I know came to me recently with a diagram
and many smiles.
"Why won't this stop it?" he wanted to know.
"When the runner on first starts to steal, the sec-
ond baseman covers second, and the first baseman
runs to the second baseman's position in the field.
And my little friend retired, crestfallen, to
think up a better scheme. If the batter did hit
over first base, with the first baseman drawn
away to cover the second baseman's territory, the
probable result would be an exciting play at the
plate, and a man on third,— and all resulting from
what should only have been, normally, a sure out,
or, at most, a short single.
Generally speaking, the "antidote" for the hit-
and-run is the "pitch-out." A careful attention
to the outs, the inning, the score, the desperation
of the attacking side, the character of the man
at bat (that is, what he has done before, that
day), and, if possible, a reading of the hit-and-
run signal, will tell the expert catcher when the
hit-and-run is to be tried, and enable him to call
for the pitch-out, which will give him a chance
to nail the runner at second (Fig. 4).
Base-runners, as they run well or ill, have
much to do with the successful work of pitchers.
The more runs the nine wins, the more easily the
pitcher can work; the less "lead" the nine gives
the pitcher, the more he must "put on the ball."
Similarly, with a close game, the least wobble in
base-running tactics may mean the game — get-
Safe !
1^3? Baseman runs in, and then
back, to cover base
Catcher fields the bunt
THE PLAY AS IT WAS PLAYED.
Pitcher pitches, ball is bunted, catcher runs in and fields bunt, has an F. C, and elects to throw to third. Third baseman runs in on the bunt,
sees catcher is fielding it, scuttles back to third. Runner on second with long lead beats the throw, hook-slides around third baseman, and is
safe, since he was not forced, and baseman had to touch him. Meanwhile bunter gets safe at first. Next batter also bunts, a run is scored, man
now on first gets to second, and the following batter (top of batting order) hits a single, when man then on second scores, making two runs, which
win game.
Then the ball, if hit toward the second baseman's
field position, is stopped by the first baseman.
And if there is no hit, there is some one on sec-
ond to take the throw !"
And that was all right as far as it went. But I
asked the lad this question :
"Suppose the batter hits directly over or just
inside first base. Who is to field the ball then ?"
ting caught off the sacks may not necessarily
mean bad base-ball, but it is certainly an example
of strategy gone wrong !
You remember, of course, the time Snodgrass,
of the Giants, spiked Baker, of the Athletics, and
there was such a howl raised about the New
York player and his methods ? Some one was
anxious to stir up trouble, for, as every player
1004
PLAYING THE GAME
[Sept.,
knows, with the score a tie in the tenth inning,
and the chance to score in sight, no player is
bothering about another, or laying plans to hurt
him. What the runner wants to do is to score !
Snodgrass was on second. Lapp was catching.
He was letting the Giant base-runner take a long
lead, and he was getting pitch-outs, too, to catch
him if he stole. He wanted him to try to steal.
And Snodgrass wanted to steal. But he was
afraid— afraid with the anxiety which must
come to him who knows that on his shoulders
to Snodgrass, had permitted him long leads, and
then had frightened him with wide pitch-outs,
which Snodgrass was in the best position to see.
So he had Snodgrass "going back" with the pitch
—and that is not the way to steal bases !
Probably in no place in a game is the strategic
brain of the captain or manager worked harder
than with the "acute situation" to deal with. The
acute situation, as every one knows, consists in
having a man on third and one on first. It is
acute with none out, more acute with one out,
Fig. 2.
Catcher fields the bunt
Zd- Baseman
Is- Baseman covers first
THE PLAY AS IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MADE.
Pitcher pitches, ball is bunted, catcher runs in and fields bunt, has an F. C, and elects first base. First baseman runs in, covers bag, receives
throw, and runner who bunted is out by yards. Runner on second is easily safe at third base. But there are now two out, and the pitcher, a
weak hitter, up. There being two out, he cannot bunt with any prospect of the play being successful. A hit is the only thing which will help.
Being a weak hitter, he strikes out, and the side retires with no runs over. Compare with result as in other diagram.
Note for both diagrams: To avoid confusion, only the movements of players who take part in the play are shown. Of course every fielder
starts in on an expected bunt, and, once the man who is to field it is clearly seen by the rest, the basemen all cover their bags. These movements
are omitted in all diagrams for the sake of plainness.
rests, for the time being, not only the game, but
perhaps a World's Championship. Finally Lapp
had a passed ball. It may have been an inten-
tional one — no one knows but Lapp. At any
rate, it was short. But Snodgrass was not in
position to take advantage of it— Lapp's evident
alertness and those pitch-outs had made him
nervous, and with every pitch he had started
back a little toward second. He did so this time,
then saw the passed ball, sprinted for third,
crashed feet first into Baker, spiking him, was
called out, and the Giants' chances went glimmer-
ing ! Whether the passed ball was intentional or
not, whether Lapp let the ball roll a few feet
from him in an attempt to tease Snodgrass into
trying for third, or whether it was an incident of
the game, matters not. The strategy of the
Athletics' catcher had caught Snodgrass just as
surely, for he had had his pitcher pay no attention
and most acute with two out, from the standpoint
of the running side. Of course, to the defense,
the more men out, the easier the play seems !
The situation is acute because there are so
many ways of dealing with it, and so many differ-
ent angles of the play. Thus, the man on first
steals second madly, the catcher throws to second
to catch the thief, the runner on third scores.
Lovely ! Only it is almost never worked that
way in the Big Leagues. Generally, it is like
this : the man on first starts to steal second, the
catcher throws, the man on third starts home,
the throw goes to short-stop or second baseman,
who has come in to take the throw, the ball is
returned, and the run is cut off at the plate (Fig.
5). But this short-throw play had not been
worked more than a dozen times before managers
began to go about the offense differently. In-
stead of starting for second like a sprinter doing
1012.]
PLAYING THE GAME
1005
the hundred-yard dash, the runner on first pro-
ceeded to jog, sometimes even to walk to second
base ! This was awful, indeed ! Think of a
club which permitted a base-runner to walk to
second base ! Yet the quick throw to the short-
stop coming in and his return to the plate did not
do a bit of good against the runner who tried to
steal second base slowly. He merely kept on
jogging and laughed, and, of course, the man on
third, seeing the man going to second so slowly,
watched for the fielder coming in and made his
run back to third instead of to home. Meanwhile,
the minute the short-stop let the ball fly to
catcher, the man going to first woke up and ran
in earnest, and with his lead of half the distance,
no catcher could catch him. Result, one stolen
base— a hit now means two runs!
It took a little time for strategists to figure this
out. But they did it. And the defense to the
slow or "delayed" steal of second with a man on
third, sometimes results in one of the prettiest
plays in all base-ball. It consists simply in the
short-stop, who runs in to take the short throw,
holding the ball and making a motion to throw
to third, which chases the runner back to third.
Meanwhile, the short-stop is dancing over toward
second base. Finally he throws the ball to second
base, and the runner from first starts back to
first again. He is either allowed to get back to
first safely, or is run down, each fielder keeping
a watchful eye on the man on third, and the in-
stant he makes a break for the plate, leaving the
man between first and second alone, and sending
the ball home. Properly executed, this series of
plays becomes spectacular in the highest degree,
and it takes a cool hand, and an old one with the
score book, to get all the "assists," "steals,"
"outs," and "put-outs" properly credited. Al-
though it is too complicated to diagram, it shows
beautifully on the record, and on the field it
illustrates base-ball strategy (as contrasted with
straight-hitting and straight-running base-ball) in
the highest degree.
Have you ever sat in the stand and berated the
pitcher for turning and throwing to first to keep
an over-anxious base-runner glued to his sack,
and scolded him for not, apparently, making any
real effort to get the runner? And then have
you cheered mightily when the catcher threw to
the first baseman, who caught the runner off with
neatness and despatch?
"Oh," you may have said, "that catcher knows
his business, at any rate ! Nothing weak about
his throwing down to first ! The pitcher could
have done it a dozen times ! He must be lazy.
But, my ! how that catcher did line that ball
down ! He 's playing some ball, all right !"
Of course you have ! And, in so doing, you
may have shown that you do not always recog-
nize strategy and generalship when you see it,
and have demonstrated one of the reasons a ball-
player cares so little for either the cheers or the
jeers of the stands. He knows they cheer only
at the obvious, and jeer when there is nothing to
jeer at — so he just "does n't care."
What actually happened may have been some-
thing like this: the batter gets a short single-
perhaps the first his side has had in four or five
THE HIT-AND-RUN, WHEN IT WORKS.
Pitcher delivers ball — runner on first starts with the throw. Second
baseman, seeing runner start, covers second base. But batter hits the
ball through second baseman's position. He would field it if he was
there, but he is covering second to take the catcher's throw in case bat-
ter fails to hit. As batter does make base-hit, runner, with flying start,
continues to third, beats the throw in from outfield by a slide, and takes
two bases on a single. Batter, of course, is safe at first.
Note : If short-stop covers bag, of course second baseman would field
ball. But, then, if batter hits through short-stop's position, the same
conditions obtain.
innings. The coacher seems crazy. The manager
is elated. The stands cheer. The pitcher and
catcher approach each other.
"Tell him all about it now," yell the fans.
"Tease him a bit,— he 's anxious," is what the
catcher says.
So the pitcher pretends to be very watchful in-
deed, but throws rather lazily to first. The first
baseman, who knows what those lazy throws
mean, makes a great pretense of jabbing around
1006
PLAYING THE GAME
[Sept.,
with the ball, trying to reach an elusive leg as it
comes sliding back. Perhaps he even pretends
to be a little lazy himself.
"You 're too quick for me," he says with a
grin, as the runner dances away, just a little
farther. Then, when the pitcher, apparently dis-
gusted at the violent yells from the stands to
"Play ball !" "Go on with the game," etc., does
pitch, he pitches wide, the first baseman darts
back to the bag with the pitch, the catcher, wait-
ing, turns and hurls the ball down to first, and
the runner, having been teased and excited into
taking a long lead, is caught "flat-footed." That
is base-ball strategy, and the pitcher's lazy throws
were as much a part of it as anything else, since
they were designed to give the base-runner the
idea that he could take liberties, get a little
farther off, in his lead, every time, until finally,
flushed with success and his agility in eluding
being touched out, he dares just a bit too much,
and then— zing! goes the ball from the catcher,
and the runner is out !
But even when "catching him flat-footed" is
not possible, or, if tried, is unsuccessful, the lazy
poised on tiptoe, arms swinging; every muscle
straining, first toward second, then back toward
first; watching the pitcher like a hawk, and keep-
ing an eye on the catcher, the first baseman, and
his own coacher, — all this is tiring to a base-
runner. And half a dozen slides back to first will
"take the edge" off any runner for the time being.
It may slow him up but a quarter of a second in
his run for second base when he does make it—
but a quarter of a second means three feet !
On the other hand, the oftener the pitcher can
be made to throw to first, particularly if he can
be teased into throwing hard, the more he
"throws out of his arm," and the less effective he
is going to be later in the game. Which is an-
other reason for a pitcher's not hurling down to
first too hard, not to mention that always possible
error in which an overthrow "throws away the
game."
It is a curious thing, how much base-ball so
many base-ball fans don't understand ! Of
course, nobody knows all of base-ball ; not even
the players, or the managers, or the captains,
know it all. Every now and then you will hear
24 Baseman covers
bag as rtrnner starts
HOW THE HIT-AND-RUN IS STOPPED.
Catcher guesses the play, and calls for a waste ball. Pitcher pitches outside the plate; batter cannot hit it. Runner on first starts with the
pitch. Second baseman covers bag. Catcher gets ball, throws to second baseman covering bag, and runner is easily tagged out. Compare
with Fig. 2 and see what happens when batter hits — this diagram shows exactly why second baseman (or short-stop, as case may be) must cover
bag whenever runner is seen to start with the pitch.
throws from the pitcher have their use. With
none out, a man on first and the game young, a
steal is not apt to be tried at once.
"Wait and see if we can't hit a little," is gen-
erally the order.
But with two out, the man on first is going
down to second if he possibly can ; hence the
greater alertness of the pitcher and catcher at
that stage of the inning.
Now, standing eight or ten feet from the bag,
one of them say, "Well, I 've been playing ball
all my life, but that was a new one to me," refer-
ring to something that happened during the day's
play. But the fan who shouts advice and con-
demnation, more often than not, does not really
know anything about the real play of the game at
all. He can appreciate a strike-out, or a three-
base hit, or a neat bit of fielding, and probably
knows why, with one out, the score a tie, and a
man on third, the left-fielder lets a long foul
1012.]
PLAYING THE GAME
1007
drop at his feet without making any effort to
catch it; but there he stops.
"Why does not the infield play in for the run-
ner on third to-day, when they played, oh, way in,
Man on Third, seeing ball
2* Baseman covers second
THE "ACUTE SITUATION."
Man on first and on third. Man on first starts to steal second.
Catcher gets ball from pitcher and throws toward second. Runner on
third, seeing ball thrown apparently to second, and second baseman
running to cover the bag, starts home. Short-stop runs in, snatches the
ball on the " short throw " long before it gets to second, and returns it
to catcher at plate, who blocks runner and touches him out. While
runner has time to score from third if ball really goes to second, he has
not time if the throw is shortened. But the problem has complications
when the runner on first steals second very slowly — since the tempta-
tion is then to play for him, and the man on third won't try to score
while the delayed steal is .being tried until he sees the play is being
made for the runner from first.
yesterday, in exactly the same circumstances?
They don't play base-ball— they just stand round
and fool with the ball," exclaims a spectator.
But let us look at our score book. Yesterday
there was a man on third in the fifth inning, with
only one out. The score was a tie. The infield
played way in, expecting a bunt. If the bunt got
to any one's hands in time, the play would be at
the plate, and the run cut off. If the batter hit it
out and it went through the fielders, the run would
score. But the run would score on a hit, no mat-
ter where the infield played. And if they played
for a hit, of course there would be a bunt. So
they had to play in for the bunt (Fig. 6).
But, to-day, the inning is the ninth, there is
one out, a man on third, and the score five to one
in favor of the team in the field. They don't play
in, because they intend to let the man on third
score, if, by so doing, they can get a good chance
at the man going to first. What do they care
whether the final score is five to one or five to
four, so long as it is five to something in their
favor? Whereas, if they play in and don't field
that bunt home in time, there will be a run in and
still only one out, and so much more chance to
prolong the game. And when you are ahead, it
is a base-ball rule that the quicker the game ends,
the better it is for you ! The spectators forget,
but the players don't forget, that there is always a
chance of a hard throw home being fumbled, of
the man sliding through or around the catcher,
or the ball being dropped by the catcher in the
melee at the plate. But the play to first base in-
volves none of these risks— if the ball gets there
first, that 's all there is to it.
While strategic plays are often arranged by
managers or captains, and result in plays involv-
ing half the infield, more often the strategic point
which wins a game or cuts off a run is the result
of some one individual's quick thinking or quick
acting. An instance which illustrates the point
came in the fourth inning of the first game in the
last World's Championship Series ; and as the
score was two to one in favor of New York, it
can fairly be said to have saved the day. Snod-
grass received a base on balls— a welcome gift,
as the hitting done against Bender that day was
very light indeed. Murray sacrificed Snodgrass
along, being retired at first, Collins to Davis.
Merkle, crazy for a hit which would bring Snod-
grass home, was over-anxious, and Bender struck
him out, amid a demonstration of cheers from the
crowded stands. Then Herzog was up, and he
"came across" with a stinging grounder to Col-
lins. Snodgrass raced for third as the ball was
hit. Collins, ordinarily a sure fielder of ground-
ers, fumbled ; either the ball was too hard hit to
handle, or he was over-nervous. Devlin, coach-
ing at third, took a chance, and showed that his
wise old base-ball head had learned much of
strategy in its many years of guiding a crack
player's body. He sent Snodgrass home ! It was
a chance, of course, and many a coacher would
have hesitated to take it. But Devlin saw a men-
tal picture and acted on it. He acted in the wink
of an eye; yet what must have raced through his
brain was this: "A fumble— rather short throw-
ought to be accurate to catch Snodgrass— but
Snodgrass has a flying start— is still running-
Collins won't expect him to go home — will
straighten up with the ball— then, suddenly seeing
Snodgrass still going, he will throw— maybe a
wild throw — Go it, old boy!" and his waving
arms also told Snodgrass to scoot for home. The
runner, of course, had no idea where the ball
was, but the stands' uproar and a downward wave
of Devlin's arm as he passed, told him the play
would be close. So he slid at the plate— and slid
safely, for Collins did exactly as Devlin had fig-
1008
PLAYING THE GAME
[Sept.,
ured he would be apt to do — he sent home a
throw which, though a fine one considering his
position and the haste with which it was made,
was yet anything but perfect, and by the time the
ball was caught off to one side of the plate,
Snodgrass was home ! That was Devlin's run,
if Snodgrass did make it, and it showed a base-
ball strategic mind of a high order to think all
that out and send the runner home in the tiny
fraction of a second in which it had to be accom-
plished.
McGraw, king of strategists, says that base-
stealing is "the gentle art of taking first a lead,
and then a chance." Strategy then can surely be
called "risking the opportunity !"
Not to be outdone, Myers, the great Giant
catcher, showed his head-work as on a par with
his arm. Ordinarily a man, when on first, does
not' steal second from a hit which has opened an
inning. The chances are too good for a pass
which will advance him automatically; or a hit-
and-run, perhaps ; or a hit or "sacrifice" which
Batter
bunts
PLAYING IN FOR A BUNT.
A man on third, one out, fifth inning, score a tie. The run at the
plate must be cut off if possible. If a hit results, or a hard-hit ball
which could be fielded to first (but not to home), the run scores anyhow.
If they play back for a ball like this, a bunt is sure. So they play in
for a bunt, the first baseman fields it, and the run is cut off.
But in the ninth inning and the fielding side far ahead, with one out,
they play back, knowing that they can run in for a bunt in time to get
the man at first, which will prevent the long continuance of the game,
even if the runner on third scores, and sure they can also field the hard-
hit ball to first.
may result in a fumble, thus giving two men a
base instead of one. But Myers figured it all out
that with the score a tie in the sixth inning,
Collins would try to steal. Baker followed Col-
lins, and Collins knew that if he was on second
and Baker could hit a single, the game would
be won right there. Whereas, if he stayed on
first and Baker singled, he might be held on sec-
ond or third, and Murphy, who followed, had
been helpless before Mathewson. So Myers
watched his chance, and signaled to Mathewson
for a "pitch-out" as Collins started for •second ;
and Collins was easily retired with an accurate
throw, as in Fig. 4, and the Athletics were never
dangerous again. Later, the Giants batted
out a clean run, and won the game strictly on
their merits, for while Collins's fumble gave
them their first run, it was Devlin's brains and
judgment which made it possible, and it was
Myers who cut off Collins from the chance of a
score. True, Baker did not follow with a hit,
but with Collins on second, there is no telling
what he might have done. Indeed, later in the
series, he demonstrated with two home runs and
seven other hits, what he could do !
Before the "infield fly" rule was decreed, dou-
ble plays in which runners had no chance at all,
were occasionally made. With first base and
second base occupied, for instance, the batter
would send a little fly toward second base. The
short-stop would let it fall — "trap it," in other
words — thus making it a hit. The two men on
the bases would then have lo advance. Short-
stop would pick up the ball, touch the man run-
ning from second to third (who had not dared to
start until he saw whether the ball was caught
or not), then toss the ball to second, thus retiring
the runner from first by a force-out, and perhaps
there might still be even a chance to get the
runner coming down to first, by a quick throw.
If so, it would complete a triple play. Now,
however, with less than two out and first and sec-
ond occupied, the umpire calls "infield fly" as
soon as such a ball is hit, and the batter is auto-
matically out, whether the ball be caught or
dropped.
Nevertheless, a play on the "trap" order is not
quite extinct, though managed in another way. A
splendid example of it occurred in a game be-
tween Chicago and New York, in 1908, which
finally ended two to one in favor of Chicago.
With New York runners on second and third,
and no one out in the seventh, things looked blue
for Chicago. They looked worse when Seymour
hit a high, short fly to right— a "Texas Leaguer."
For Evers stood still; he made no move for the
ball. Chance was too far off to field it. The
man on third, seeing this, scuttled for home, and.
the man on second hurried for third, while Sey-
mour tore down to first. But Evers was taking
a chance. Once the runners were started, he
made a wild dash, just managed to reach the ball,
igi2.]
PLAYING THE GAME
1009
SCENE DURING A GAME AT WASHINGTON PARK, BROOKLYN— THE "HOME GROUNDS
BROOKLYN CLUB, NATIONAL LEAGUE.
caught and clung to it ; then, with the peculiar
throw which he seems able to manage from any
position, no matter how contorted he may be, he
threw to the plate. Every runner immediately
scuttled back to base ! And Kling, seeing this,
ran in on the throw, caught it, and doubled the
runner at second base — and there were two out
and no score! That ended that rally! Note that
Evers did not try to double Seymour at first —
he first cut off the run — then let Kling and Tinker
do the double ! Had Evers done as he could well
(To be con
have done, trotted back and caught the little fly
with ease, there would have been no attempt to
run by any one ; and there would have been but
one out. But he tricked the runners into think-
ing the ball would fall safe— that he had lost its
direction in the sun — and so he got a double play
and no score. And that is another of the plays
which Evers thinks up and displays on the in-
stant—another evidence of the lightning-quick
brain which so well directs the lightning-quick
body. Thus skill plus strategy makes the star !
tinned.')
THE PANTRY GHOSTS
BY FREDERIC RICHARDSON
Last night I had a horrid dream —
I cannot tell you why-
Huge pies and cakes of chocolate cream
And doughnuts passing by.
They looked at me with wicked joy.
I thought I heard them say,
"By night we haunt the foolish boy
That haunts our shelf by day.
Vol. XXXIX.— 127.
"Behind us comes a nightmare grim —
You 'd better hide your head! —
And then some Things, all pale and dim ;
So crawl down in your bed.
"We never mind a little slice,—
A bite or two, — but when
You eat too much, it is n't nice,
And we shall come again !"
IN THE MOUTH OF A CANNON
(.7 True Story)
BY MARY RICHARDS BERRY
"I see a star ! Oh, I say, Father, is n't it 'most
time to set off the rockets now ?"
"Be quiet, you youngsters! Of course Father
is n't going to let you set off the rockets when it 's
still as light as day. Anyhow, the sooner you set
them off the sooner you will have to go to bed.
Don't you know that?" And Dave effectually
quieted his younger brothers with his words.
It was a very trying hour for these restless
boys, as the last fire-cracker
had burned their fingers, and
there was not even a stray
cap to be found on the lawn
which had not been exploded
in the toy pistols. The lem-
onade had been consumed,
and the ice-cream, except
the one dish apiece which
Mother was saving until
after the evening fireworks.
Father always let them
have a few rockets, candles,
pinwheels, and red fire, but
this year they had treble the
quantity, due to Uncle Jack's
generosity, for he was spend-
ing his summer vacation
with them, and declared that
he wanted "a real patriotic
Fourth."
Would the sun never go
down, the younger children
wondered, while the older
boys lounged about on the
veranda, trying, with the su-
periority of their years, to
enter into the conversation of
their elders; but nevertheless
they were as anxious as the
youngsters to begin the fun.
Presently Uncle Jack came
to the rescue, saying:
"Suppose I tell you a
Fourth of July story; some-
thing that happened to me
when I was a lad about your
size, Ned."
"Hurrah ! Uncle Jack is
story ! Here, don't push so, you fellows ; you
need n't think you can have the whole step !"
Finally, after some good-natured disputing, the
boys were all attention, and Uncle Jack began :
"As I said, I was about the size of Ned, and
had just passed my twelfth birthday. We were
living in Brooklyn at the time, and we boys often
went fishing at Fort Hamilton, which was a good
four-mile walk from our home. But we never
minded the walk, thinking all the time of the fun
we would have when we reached the water-front.
WITHOUT FURTHER WARNING HE PICKED ME UP.
joing to tell us a
"One day a chum of mine, Hal Wilson, and I
decided to go fishing, so, with poles over our
shoulders and a bait-can in our hands, we were
IN THE MOUTH OF A CANNON
1011
soon on our way. A new pier had been recently
built by the government, and, as it was longer
than the others, we decided to try our luck off the
end of it. We sat just beneath a new sixteen-
inch-bore gun which overlooked the harbor, and
cast in our hooks for bass, bluefish, or anything
else that came our way.
"The fishing was good enough, but the trouble
was with the catching! We had caught only a
few small ones and were dangling our lines in a
listless sort of way, when I was startled to hear
a gruff voice just behind me. I looked up and
saw a couple of men. By his hat I knew one of
them was a soldier, though, by the way he stood,
a cloak hid his uniform. They were both chunky
fellows. One had a dark beard and smoked
a big black cigar. The other was just the same
build, but his hair and mustache were somewhat
gray. As we lived so near the fort, I was accus-
tomed to seeing soldiers, and should have paid
no further attention to these men, had it not been
for what they said and did to me.
" 'Hello, sonny !' said the man who was not
smoking. 'How 'd you like to have me put you in
the cannon and shoot you out ?'
" 'I should n't like it, sir, for it would probably
kill me,' I answered.
"Then I saw him wink at the other man, the
one with the cigar, and, without further warning,
he grabbed me, picked me up, and made as if to
squeeze me into the mouth of that cannon, head
first!
"Oh, you would n't have laughed, boys, if you
had been in my place, for I was about the
scaredest lad you ever saw,— except Hal. He
was so scared he took to his heels as soon as he
saw the man pick me up.
"I struggled and kicked and yelled, certain sure
that they were going to put me into the cannon's
mouth, head and shoulders, in spite of all my
squirming. This tussle did not last more than a
few seconds, but it seemed almost hours before
they stood me on my feet once more. I grabbed
my precious string of fish and started to follow
Hal's example, when each of the men drew a
dime from his pocket and, handing them to me,
smilingly assured me that I was not in the least
harmed and had no cause for fear.
"I accepted their dimes, but, still fearing they
might wish to repeat their performance, I started
to skedaddle along the pier toward shore.
"I had gone only a short distance when I was
stopped by another military man. He was tall
and slim, and had a sad face. Evidently he had
seen my late adventure, for he sard to me:
" 'My boy, don't you know who that man is who
spoke to you— the man with the cigar?'
" 'No, sir,' I answered, 'I don't.'
" 'Why, it is President Grant !' said he. 'And
don't you know who that other man is that put
you into the cannon ?'
AND WHO ARE YOU, SIR
"Again I confessed my ignorance, and he re-
plied :
" 'Why that is General Phil Sheridan !'
"I was pretty well overawed at hearing all this,
but still had courage to say :
" 'And who are you, sir?"
"I remember the sad-looking face relaxed into
a smile, as he answered :
" 'Oh, I am General Sherman. The three of
us have been inspecting these new guns and are
now waiting down here at the pier for the cutter
which is to take us to Jersey City. There it comes
now, so good-by, my lad !'
"I ran home as fast as I could to tell my won-
derful story to my mother and to show her my
dimes. And if you will turn on the electric light,"
concluded Uncle Jack, "I will let you see them,
too, for I have carried them ever since ; only we
must hurry, for here comes your father with the
biggest bundle of fireworks I ever saw !"
From photographs, by permission of F. B. den Boer, Middelburg, Holland.
SUMMER DAYS ON THE ISLAND OF WALCHEREN, HOLLAND.
THE TOWNSEND TWINS-CAMP DIRECTORS
BY WARREN L. ELDRED
Chapter XV
AN EXCITING DAY
Owners of launches and small steamers were
driving a brisk trade carrying passengers across
the lake to points near the circus grounds. About
ten o'clock, the boys were ready to start. They
had arranged with the owner of a launch to call
for Mrs. Spencer and the girls, then stop at the
camp landing for them, and continue on to Mr.
Samuelson's dock, where Storer and Rutledge
were to be picked up.
They ran up the signal on a little flagpole at
the end of the landing, and awaited the coming
of the launch.
"I wonder what 's happened," Bert said, looking
up and down the lake. "He was to call at Mrs.
Spencer's before ten o'clock, then come right
down here. I don't see a sign of his old scow,
and it 's ten after ten now."
"Well, let 's hang around awhile and see if he
appears," Edgar suggested. "He may show up a
little later, and we still have twenty minutes or
so to spare."
So they waited. They fretted and waited some
more. They grew increasingly impatient, but
still they waited. They kept on waiting. Then
they grew desperate, and decided to cease wait-
ing.
Lefty volunteered to row up to Mrs. Spencer's
landing and see the guests safely embarked on
any craft that could be hailed. This done, he
was to return to camp, and the boys would get
across any way they could.
After a time, Lefty was observed in the dis-
tance, returning with all speed.
"Well, did you get 'em started?" Tom called.
Lefty shook his head.
"What 's up? Are njt they going?"
Lefty rested on his oars, and the boat floated
in near the landing.
"No one was around the place," he reported.
"House all closed up?"
"Yes. House closed, and not a sign of any-
body on the premises."
There was a moment of silence, while the camp-
ers reviewed the situation.
"Well," Tom announced finally, "I think
they 're across the lake waiting for us. Maybe
the old skipper got mixed up and took 'em over
before he called for us. There comes a little
launch. Let 's hail it ! There 's no one on board,
and we can just about squeeze in. We can't take
Storer and Rutledge, though. They '11 surely
think we 're lost ! We promised to call for them,
you remember."
"Oh, well, when they find that we 're not com-
ing, they '11 make up their minds that something 's
happened, and get across some other way," Eliot
assured them. "Come on ! Yell, or the boat '11
go past !"
They raised a united shout, and a shrill toot
from the whistle of the diminutive craft told
them that their signal was heard. The bow
swung around and pointed toward the landing,
and the boys prepared to embark.
"There hardly will be room enough on board
for all of us," the doctor declared, looking doubt-
fully at the approaching boat. "Perhaps the man
will tow one of our boats behind. Then we can
put our luncheon in it, with two or three of us to
keep it from escaping."
The skipper of the small craft good-naturedly
agreed (for a consideration) to tow the larger of
the camp boats, so it was made fast to the stern
of the launch, and the campers accepted his invi-
tation to "pile in."
Lefty, Tom, and Tad sat in the rowboat. The
others crowded on board the launch, and slowly
it chugged across the lake, reaching the eastern
shore at about half-past eleven.
Roads were thronged with vehicles of many
varieties, and people fairly swarmed in the direc-
tion of the circus tents.
"If Mrs. Spencer and the girls are here, how
shall we find them?" Jack asked in a perplexed
tone. "There 's such a mob, it '11 be hard work."
"Just keep moving and looking," Tad re-
sponded. "We 're pretty sure to run across them."
About fifteen minutes later, they were walking
along a road that led back toward the circus
grounds. Suddenly a familiar voice hailed them
from a shady retreat, and, quickly looking up-
ward, they discovered Mrs. Spencer and the four
girls sitting upon a light shawl spread on the
grass. With them, as calm and cool (well, per-
haps not cool, considering the temperature, but
untroubled, certainly), as if the original arrange-
ments had been exactly carried out, sat Storer
and Rutledge.
"Greetings !" cried Storer. "Salutations and
a cordial welcome ! We 've been waiting for you
to bring the lunch."
"Well, you do beat all !" gasped the doctor.
1013
1014
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
"How did you get here, and how long have you
been waiting?"
"How did we get here ? Why, your old friend
Charon, the boatman, called for us just as we
arranged yesterday."
"He did?"
"He was very prompt," Mrs. Spencer added.
"He called at our landing at half-past nine.
Fortunately, we were all ready. There were a
number of passengers on board, and we won-
dered where all you Beaver Campers would find
room. The launch did not stop at your landing,
however, and we supposed that you would be
called for later. We kept right on down the lake
until Mr. Samuelson's dock was reached, and
there Mr. Storer and Mr. Rutledge came on
board. After that, we were taken straight across
the lake, and here we have been since, waiting
in this cool, quiet nook which Mr. Rutledge dis-
covered for us."
"Well, would n't that jar you?" Lefty asked.
"The ancient mariner never came near us."
Then they drew graphic word-pictures of their
anxious waiting and final disappointment. Mrs.
Spencer and the girls, however, expressed such
hearty sympathy that they were soon comforted.
The land on one side of the road sloped up-
ward rather abruptly for eight or ten feet, being
level on. top of the rise, and well shaded. Here
the party arranged itself comfortably.. In the
distance could be seen the white tents of the cir-
cus, and as the parade would soon pass along the
road below on its way to town, they decided to
eat luncheon, and await there the "grand, glitter-
ing display of public pageantry."
"Ah !" Storer cried suddenly, pausing with a
sandwich midway to its destruction. "Sounds _of
martial music smite my ears ! The monster street
parade must have started."
Sure enough, a procession of red wagons, gaily
ornamented with gold-leaf, was rolling out of
the big tent. The band rode in the first chariot,
and certainly worked hard in an effort to let peo-
ple know that the procession had started. On-
ward it moved, nearer and nearer to the party
under the trees.
Storer rose, assumed the manner of a ring-
master, and began to explain the features of the
procession for the benefit of his audience.
"First, we have a bewildering bit of bewitch-
ing band. Next, you will kindly observe the gor-
geous galaxy of glittering glory, gregariously
grouped. Now approaches the ponderous pro-
cession of prepossessing pachyderms. Next in
line, we discover a dismal drove of dilapidated
dromedaries, together with a colossal class of
celebrated camels. We now see some savage
specimens of untamed animals. Keep your seats,
ladies. There is no danger ! Here we have a
terrifying, tempestuous tiger. Now a wild, wil-
ful wolf. Next, a- languorous, lacerating lion.
There, a huge, haughty hippopotamus. In the
next cage, a ravenous, raging rhinoceros. Finally,
a gigantic, garrulous giraffe.
"Now the brave riders and fair rideresses en-
ter upon the scene. Behold the prancing steeds !
Observe the ease and grace with which they are
controlled ! Notice the spirited picture which is
here presented.
"Here come the clowns— joy of youth, solace
of age ! Comical, curious, clever, charming, cap-
tivating !
"Ah ! Here is the familiar tail-end of the pro-
cession ! Our shrinking little warbler the cal-
liope ! Well, that 's all of the parade ! Had n't
we better amble along toward the tents ?"
The others were willing, even eager, to start,
so the party walked leisurely along toward the
circus grounds. Already dark clouds were roll-
ing together in the west, and the wind was rising.
"We 're going to have a storm before long,
I 'm afraid," Doctor Halsey said, rather anx-
iously. "I wonder if that tent is put up strongly
enough to be safe."
"They must strike storms once in a while,"
Tom remarked. "If there 's any way of making
a tent storm-proof, I dare say the circus folks
know all about it."
"We '11 be careful to sit under a spot that
does n't leak," Jack added. "It diverts your in-
terest to have water splashing down on your
head."
They reached the circus grounds after a short
walk, and secured the bits of cardboard that en-
titled them to the unspeakable bliss of a circus
performance. Already people were gravitating
toward the ticket wagon, going thence into the
menagerie, and on to the main tent.
"Most of the animals are out helping to
lengthen the parade," Eliot observed, looking
around the almost deserted tent.
They procured programs and found their seats,
and before long sounds of stirring music were
heard outside. Nearer and nearer they came.
Finally, with a crash of cymbals and a vigorous
thumping of drums, the parade returned from its
invasion of the town, and the performance began.
The three rings at once became the centers of in-
terest. Event followed event in rapid succession.
Clowns performed all manner of droll antics.
Horses danced gracefully to the music of waltzes
and two-steps. Trapeze artists exhibited such
skill and daring, that more than one spectator
gasped apprehensively. Races of several varie-
STORER ROSE AND BEGAN TO EXPLAIN THE FEATURES OF THE PROCESSION.
1015
1016
THE TOWNSEND TWINS — CAMP DIRECTORS
[Sept.,
ties thrilled the excited watchers, and animals,
more or less wild, gave convincing demonstra-
tions of man's power over the brute creation.
Suddenly, a long rumble of thunder made itself
heard above the varied noises of the circus.
Sharp flashes of lightning-
could be seen through the
canvas, and the wind blew
with increasing violence,
whirling loose papers and
even small objects around in
the confusion that precedes
a storm.
The performance contin-
ued as if the hot July sun
still shone. A vague rest-
lessness, however, appeared
among the spectators. A few
made their way toward the
exits. Others looked about
them with undisguised appre-
hension. Attention was di-
verted from the rings.
"Shall we stay here, Mrs.
Spencer, or seek some safer
shelter?" the doctor inquired.
"I think we are quite safe,"
she replied quietly. "If we
go outside, we may be ex-
posed to the full force of the
storm. It is probably only a
thunder-shower. Perhaps the
sun will be shining again
when the performance is
over."
The thunder rolled nearer
and louder. The lightning
flashes followed one another
in rapid succession, and the
wind gathered increasing
strength. Now the rain
came pattering and splashing
down about the tent.
All at once came a blinding
flash of lightning, followed
almost immediately by a tre-
mendous clap of thunder. At
the same time, the flaming
lights in the middle of the
tent suddenly went out.
Women screamed in terror, and some of the
spectators hastily fled toward the exits. Fortu-
nately, the lights at either end of the tent still
burned brightly, and nothing like a panic re-
sulted, though many were visibly nervous and
alarmed.
The Beaver Campers hastened to reassure Mrs.
Spencer and the girls, who were outwardly calm
in spite of any misgivings which they may have
felt.
Soon after the accident, the performance con-
cluded abruptly, but most of the spectators kept
HE APPROACHED THE MAN, WHO STEPPED BACKWARD IN ALARM.
(SEE PAGE IOI9.)
their seats, choosing to remain under shelter.
The mishap marked the climax of the storm.
Presently the thunder was rolling faintly in the
distance, the lightning flashes came more rarely,
and the rain was falling less heavily.
"Well, this has been a great day !" Storer re-
marked cheerfully. "Who ever heard before of
igi2.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
1017
a circus that presented acts not advertised nor
entered on the program ?"
"That was a real storm !" Rutledge added.
"I 'tn afraid even the best of scenic artists would
have failed to produce anything quite so real-
istic."
"We had everything but a blizzard with the
hero and the shero lost in it," Lefty observed
with a little laugh. "That would have been real
drama."
"It 's not raining much now," Tom announced
a little later, "and people are moving out. Shall
we swell the ranks?"
They should and did. They joined the slowly
moving throng, and by the time they had gained
the outer world, the rain had ceased, and sun-
shine was putting the dark clouds to rout.
There was some delay about getting across to
the opposite shore, owing to the large number of
people who desired to cross and the compara-
tively few boats at their disposal, but they reached
Beaver Camp before sunset. Mrs. Spencer and
the girls remained on the launch and continued
up the lake a short distance to their landing, part-
ing from the boys at the camp dock with cordial
assurances of their pleasure and appreciation.
As they walked up the path, Lefty broke in
upon the animated conversation with an excla-
mation of dismay.
"What 's the matter, Lefty?" the doctor asked.
"Only that we '11 have to sleep standing up
to-night," he groaned dismally. "All our cots
have been out there on the piazza during the
storm, and I see their finish !"
And the others, without any difficulty, saw the
same thing.
Chapter XVI
AN HISTORICAL PILGRIMAGE
"I wonder if we can't take a little trip while
we 're up in this region," Bert said one evening,
as the Beaver Campers sat around the camp-fire.
"Easiest thing in the catalogue," Lefty assured
him. "Tie a string about six inches from the
ground across that path from the landing, and
somebody will surely take a little trip."
"I believe it would be a good thing for several
reasons," the doctor declared heartily.
"It would, undoubtedly," Lefty responded with
equal heartiness. "For instance, it would illus-
trate the force of gravitation — "
"No, no ! I was talking of the trip."
"Well, that 's what I was talking of !"
"Where could we go?" Tom interposed hastily,
fearing that the word-play might draw attention
away from the original subject and that Bert's
promising idea would be side-tracked.
Vol. XXXIX —128.
"There is such a variety of possible trips that
it is hard to make a selection," Doctor Halsey
said slowly. "We can go back into the moun-
tains of Vermont, or up north to St. Albans Bay
— even farther, if you feel so disposed— with a
side trip to Ausable Chasm. If you like, we can
travel back from Westport to Keene Valley, and
get up into the Adirondacks, or we can go south
through country wonderfully rich in historical
interest. North— south— east— west— the world
is ours."
"It sounds like winter to talk of going south,"
Jack observed. "That trip up the lake, stopping
at Ausable Chasm, sounds good to me."
"Yes, I 'd like to see that while we 're in this
section," Tom said eagerly. "It must be great !
All kinds of rocks, and waterfalls, and natural
bridges, and rapids where you go shooting along
in a boat—"
"What is there to see down the lake ?" Jack in-
terrupted.
"Well, there are the ruins of two forts—
"There is a monument at Schuylerville worth
going miles to see.
"Also there is the famous Revolutionary battle-
field of Saratoga."
"You can keep right on going, if you start
south," Bert observed. "There 's nothing to stop
you. Just sail down the lake, down the Cham-
plain Canal, into the Hudson, and so on, into the
ocean and the Gulf of Mexico."
"It 's all very well to talk of taking trips,"
Edgar objected, "but where is the money coming
from? It costs a heap to go gallivanting around
the country."
"Well, if it 's going to cost much, I see where
this chicken stays in his own barn-yard," Lefty
declared. "My income, gentlemen, is limited
only by the size of my pocket-book."
"You have n't any pocket-book," Tom
chuckled.
"Nor any income, either !"
"It ought not to cost so much," Eliot said
thoughtfully; "There are certain things we have
to buy every day, and I should n't think it would
matter much whether we pay for them here or
somewhere else."
"I suppose not— as long as we pay," Tom re-
sponded. "We 've done well so far. I went over
our accounts with the doctor a few days ago, and
found that we had enough money left to carry
us through the season, with a balance for emer-
gencies."
"That comes to me," Lefty informed them. "I
lost my balance yesterday."
"Even if we had boats, you would n't want to
row so far, would you?" asked Cousin Willie.
1018
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[Sept.,
"No, that 's too much of a pull," Bert de-
clared. "We might do it in canoes if we had
enough of them."
"I saw a dandy gasolene-launch for rent the
other day," Tom announced. "The owner wants
five dollars a day for it, though."
"People* don't always get what they want,"
Tad reminded him. "If we bid twenty-five a
week, I think we stand a very good show of
getting it."
"Yes, but if you get it, who 's going to be en-
gineer?" Jack wanted to know. "Can any fellow
here run the engine or steer the thing?"
"Storer can," the doctor announced. "He
knows all about engines and gasolene-launches
and such things. He 's cruised around quite a
bit."
"I see where he is asked to come with us,
then !" Jack observed. "Most likely we 'd have
wanted him and Rutledge in the crowd, anyhow.
They spend about as much time here as they do
down where they 're boarding. However, he 's
sure now of a special invitation."
"He won't need much urging," Doctor Halsey
assured them. "He and Rutledge will be glad to
go, I am very sure."
"That 's settled then," Jack remarked, with
evident satisfaction. "We have a boat and some
one to run it. Now where '11 we go?"
"There are reasons why I think we 'd better
postpone our trip north until later," the doctor
responded. "We '11 see Ausable Chasm and the
northern part of the lake before we go home, but
not just now."
"Hist ! a mystery !" Tad muttered.
"That trip south is all right," Tom assured
them. "Let 's see, we sail right down the lake
into the Champlain Canal, don't we?"
The doctor nodded. "Yes, and then as far
down as we care to go. How long a trip do you
fellows want to take?"
"Let 's hire the boat for a week, if we can get
a special rate that way," Tom suggested. "Then
we can start on Monday, and come back when we
feel like it."
After considerable discussion, they arranged
a plan for the proposed trip, "subject to change
without notice," like a time-table.
Tom, with Tad and Jack, were to find the man
who desired to rent his boat, and see what terms
could be made with him. The doctor agreed to
consult Storer and Rutledge, map out their
course, and discuss transportation items. Bert,
Lefty, and Cousin Willie were to inspect the sup-
plies which the commissary department had on
hand, and make a list of things needed. The
others were instructed to gather as much infor-
mation as possible concerning points of historic
interest in the country through which they would
pass.
The rest of the week was spent in preparation.
They secured the use of the launch for six aays
at a cost of twenty-five dollars, and planned to
leave camp Monday morning, returning Saturday
night.
Storer and Rutledge were enthusiastic over
the proposed trip, and suggested that they travel
as far south as Albany, stopping on the way
down to examine any point of interest. Supplies
were purchased and the hour of departure was
impatiently awaited.
Monday morning dawned fair and warm. The
launch was lying at the camp landing, and the
boys' first duty was to convey supplies on board.
They worked busily, and before ten o'clock every-
thing was in readiness for a start.
Mrs. Spencer and the four girls came down to
witness their departure, and to wish them a pleas-
ant trip.
When each had taken his place in the launch,
Storer busied himself with wheels and levers,
the whistle tooted a shrill farewell, parting words
were exchanged with those on shore, and the
Rainbow moved away from the landing, and
started down the lake.
Rutledge was steering, with Lefty and Eliot
watching him carefully and learning how to han-
dle the wheel. Bert and the doctor were listening
to Storer's explanation of the engine, and the
uses of various levers, wheels, and mechanical
devices.
"It looks simple," Bert remarked.
"Why, yes," Storer assured him. "It 's just a
matter of doing the right thing at the right time.
Try it awhile, Bert ! Nothing like practice, you
know. She 's running all right now, and we have
a clear stretch ahead."
Bert settled himself to watch the engine, while
Storer wiped his hands on some cotton waste
and walked forward. He faced the boys, assum-
ing the manner of a lecturer, and commenced :
"Gentlemen and fellow-/?aiw6ow-chasers ! I
desire to call your attention to the beautiful and
interesting country through which we are pass-
ing. On your left, you see Vermont, with the
Green Mountains in the distance. Here it is that
the famous green cheese is prepared, from which
the moon is made. Vermont is celebrated for
many things, among which are quarries, maple-
sugar, and Beaver Camp.
"On your right, you see the State of New
York, with the Adirondacks standing out in bold
relief against the— er— the cerulean blue. Adi-
rondacks is an Indian word, meaning 'high.' "
igi2.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
1019
"The guide-book says that Adirondacks is a
name the Iroquois gave the Algonquins," Eliot
remarked. "It means, 'he eats bark.' "
"Speaking of eating reminds me that it is al-
most time for lunch," Charlie ventured.
"Sure ! That 's what I say !" Tad agreed.
"There 's a good shady spot over yonder."
Rutledge took the wheel and guided the boat
close to the high bank. The campers had no diffi-
culty in going ashore, and soon made themselves
at home.
Their first meal consisted largely of peanut-
butter sandwiches, crackers, and apples which
were furnished by a neighboring tree.
In the midst of their feast, sounds of rapidly
approaching footsteps reached their ears, and
presently two men, one short, stout, and red-
faced, the other tall, awkward, and raw-boned,
appeared on the scene.
"What V ye doin' here ?" cried one of them.
"Can't ye read the signs I put up, warning tres-
p'ssers to keep off?"
As the men drew nearer, Storer sprang to his
feet with every appearance of alarm, and waved
the pair back with warning gestures.
"Don't come any closer if you value your wel-
fare !" he cried. "We 're doctors, in charge of
these boys. And you don't want to catch what
they 've got !"
The men stopped. "What is it?" asked the
raw-boned one.
"I don't want to frighten the whole neighbor-
hood, but I wanvyou to keep away !"
The thin man retreated at least ten feet, but
the other held his ground.
"I don't believe a word of it ! and I '11 have the
law on ye !" he declared. "You watch 'em, Hi-
ram ! Don't let 'em get into that boat. I '11 go
and get the constable. I vowed I 'd make 'n
example of the next ones that trespassed on these
'ere premises."
He strode off, leaving the lanky Hiram to de-
tain the invaders.
"If you stay on guard, Hiram, I 'd advise you
to be vaccinated," Storer went on.
He approached the man, who stepped back-
ward in alarm.
"Go 'way from me !" he cried in terror.
The campers hastily scrambled on board the
Rainbow, Storer ran down and leaped in after
them, and they soon left Hiram far behind, and
hastened steadily southward, stopping at Crown
Point and Fort Ticonderoga, and recalling, as
they wandered over the historic ground, the
scenes which the crumbling walls had witnessed.
The fort at Ticonderoga has been restored to
a condition as nearly as possible like that of
Revolutionary days, and the boys spent consid-
erable time in exploring the interesting building.
They camped that night along the shore near
the south end of the lake, continuing their jour-
ney the next morning after an early swim in the
cool water.
The second. day of their cruise found them at
Schuylerville, where they stopped to inspect the
impressive Saratoga Battle Monument, climbing
to its very top and studying as they went the
bronze tablets depicting Revolutionary scenes.
They felt well repaid for their toilsome climb by
the magnificent panorama spread out below.
North— south — east— west — every direction re-
vealed a picture of surpassing beauty. Here they
lingered nearly two hours.
Bemis Heights and the Saratoga battle-field
were explored next. Aided by monuments which
mark important spots, and by the unusually clear
and interesting report of this battle which they
recently had read in Lossing's "Field Book of the
Revolution," the Beaver Campers were able to
live over again in imagination this stirring and
important campaign.
Wednesday morning was cloudy, with heavy
showers at intervals, so they took refuge in Still-
water and held a council of war.
"I think it '11 clear up this afternoon," the doc-
tor announced. "Then we can resume our cruise."
The doctor's cheerful prediction was fulfilled.
The sun shone brightly by one o'clock, and soon
they were on their way.
Wednesday night found them in Troy, and
most of Thursday was spent in exploring that
city and Albany.
Friday morning, they started back toward
camp, "all well, all happy, and all broke," as
Lefty cheerfully reminded them.
"Yes, we 've spent all our surplus," Tom ob-
served, "but we 've seen a lot of things that we '11
never forget. It was worth all we blew in !"
Saturday brought them back to Beaver Camp,
and Storer agreed to convey the launch across
to its owner.
The campers waited on the landing until he
was almost out of sight.
"That 's the way all rainbows fade," Tad re-
marked. "They 're beautiful for a while, then
they go away, and you have only memories."
"That 's right !" Lefty agreed. "Memories and
appetites ! I wonder if there 's anything in the
bungalow to eat."
And they hurried up to investigate.
( To be continued. )
DAT S DE WAY MY LADY LL DO
It ain't how many eyes you got,
'Les' needles could see an' potatoes, too ;
An' "hookin' a' eye," as like as not,
Would be classed as a sin dat no lady 'd do.
But it 's keepin' yo' eyes turned to'des de
right,
An' to'des de wrong jes' shettin' 'em tight
Lookin' out for ways to be polite —
Dat 's de way my lady 'd do !
It ain't how many ears you got
Dat makes you listen an' learn an' do ;
Else a hill o' corn in a garden plot
Would be 'way ahead o' me an' you ;
But it 's shettin' yo' ears to heartless speech,
An' listenin' whilst de teachers teach,
An' strivin' to practise mo' 'n to preach —
Dat 's de way my lady '11 do !
It ain't how many tongues you got,
'Les' shoes would talk an' wagons, too;
An' all de bells would gabble a lot,
An' tattle an' brag de long day th'ough ;
But it 's gyardin' yo' tongue f 'om talk dat's wrong,
An' passin' a helpful word along,
An' maybe singin' a hopeful song—
Dat 's de way my lady '11 do !
THE MAMMY ALLIGATOR
Said de mammy alligator, wid a motherly grin :
"I nuver liked babies wid dey dimples tucked in,
But our little pet, wid its horny hide,
Like its mammy's an' its daddy's, is de fam'ly
pride."
An' dey ain't by deyselves in dat, in dat—
An' dey ain't by deyselves in dat.
OLE DADDY DO-FUNNY'S WISDOM JINGLES
1021
THE PET
De little white chicken dat 's petted too much
Gits stunted in growth f'om de sp'ilin' touch.
An' she '11 nuver make a hen so brave an' good
As ef she went a-pickin', an' worked wid de brood.
An' she ain't by 'erself in dat, in dat—
■ No, she ain't by 'erself in dat.
THE DANDELION
De dandelion flower blooms out so young
Wid a look in its face like a sassy tongue,
Den it grows light-headed wid self-conceit
Wid a flighty ole age, for full defeat.
An' it ain't by itself, pert chillen, in dat
No, it ain't by itself in dat.
r
A GUILTY CONSCIENCE
Dat little yaller pup 's got so many lickin's
For pesterin' all de ducks an' chickens,
Dat whenever he hears any barn-yard strife,
He looks over his shoulder an' runs for 's life
But he ain't by 'isself in dat, in dat—
No, he ain't by 'isself in dat.
the screech-owl
When de big owl calls out "Who—ooo—
ooo- ! MM"
In de dark o' de moon, like night-owls do,
De chillen, a-beggin' to play out late,
Come tumblin' back into Daddy's gate.
An' dey ain't by deyselves in dat, in dat
No, dey. ain't by deyselves in dat.
the thistle
De thistle-stalk sends up a noble bloom
Wid de shape of a flower an' de thought of a
plume,
But its prickle-y ways turn friendship down ;
So it stands all alone, in its velvet gown.
An' it ain't by its lonesome self in dat —
No, it ain't by itself in dat.
CATCHING DOODLE-BUGS
Little picaninnies, fishin' in de doodle-bug holes,
Wid a "spit for luck," an' straws for poles,
Show pyore delight in de fisherman's aim
All disp'opo'tioned to de game.
An' dey ain't by deyselves in dat, in dat—
An' dey ain't by deyselves in dat.
nOWJEI^RICITYisGBj^ZTTED
BY ALBERT WALTON
One principle underlies almost the entire field of
electrical development. And yet, strange to say,
very few people not actually in the electrical busi-
ness know of even the existence of this law or
principle. Perhaps, however, this is not so
strange, after all, for, though we see our elec-
tric lights and ride in electric cars, or use our
telephone every day of our lives, these wonderful
inventions are so common and work so well and
are so seldom out of order, that we never see
more than the outside of them, and it never oc-
curs to us to wonder what makes them work as
they do.
The incandescent lamp in your house, the arc
lamp in the street, the motors under the car,
all must have current supplied to them from a
wire, and the current in the wire must come from
some electrical generator. In almost every case
this generator is a "dynamo," though, of course,
there are other ways to supply it on a small scale.
But, in commercial work, the dynamo is the source
of electrical supply for all our lights and motors,
telephone and telegraph systems, and the myriad
other devices we depend upon for our daily
comforts and necessities. It is interesting, there-
fore, to examine into this machine a little more
FIG. I. A, B, C. D, ELECTRO-MAGNETS.
The arrows indicate the direction in which the current is moving,
indicated by N and S.
closely than is possible on a casual visit to a
power-house.
To understand how it operates one has to keep
firmly in mind these three important facts :
(i) If you send a current through a coil of in-
sulated wire wrapped around a piece of iron, the
iron immediately becomes a magnet — an "electro-
magnet." (See Fig. i.)
(2) The region around the magnet, especially
at its ends, is influenced by the magnetism : that
is, a "field of magnetism" is set up about the iron
as soon as it becomes a magnet. (See Fig. 2.)
(3) 1^ y°u Pass a piece of wire sidewise across
this magnetic field, an electric pressure will be
set up in the wire somewhat as water pressure
is set up in a water-pipe by a pump.
This pressure tends to force electricity from
one end of the wire to the other ; so if you were
to continue the wire around in a loop and join
the ends so as to form a complete ring, a current
would flow right around the ring, forced by the
pressure caused by passing a part of it through
the magnetic field.
These three items, then, form the basis for the
design of all our dynamos, from the little toy
machines run by hand to the huge generators
driven by steam turbines of ten thousand horse-
power.
Now, if you should take in one hand a small
straight magnet and in the other a loop of wire,
and should move the loop past the end
of the magnet, as a part of the loop
cuts the magnetic field you would
have generated an electric current in
that wire. It will be a very small
current, to be sure, but a true electric
current will, nevertheless, flow around
the loop. The stronger the magnet
or the more magnets you have and
the faster you move the wire, the
greater will be the pressure, and, con-
sequently, the current set up.
But, as we said, the best you can get by hand is
a feeble current,— too feeble to be measured by
any but the most sensitive of instruments. Sup-
The poles are
HOW ELECTRICITY IS GENERATED
1023
pose, now, instead of having only one turn of
wire you had not joined the ends to form a closed
loop, but had brought them around again to
form a double loop, and then, joining the ends,
had performed the experiment. Two parts of
the same wire would cut the magnetic field at
once, and, the same pressure being set up in each
part, twice the former current would flow. With
three turns to the loop, or coil, three times the
current would flow— and so on. The writer has
performed this experiment in the field of a strong
magnet with a coil of very fine wire of a great
many turns, and, by jerking the coil very quickly
through the field so as to cut it with one side of
the coil, has been able to light a small battery
lamp for an instant.
So, if you can get enough wire to cut the field
of magnetism and do it fast enough and have
the field strong enough, you can get very strong
currents. But it would be of no use if the cur-
rent continued but an instant, as it does in these
experiments. So we arrange the turns of our
coils on a cylinder or wheel, and fix a number
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FIG. 2. THE FIELD OF MAGNETISM WITH THE MAGNETIC
LINES OF FORCE, SHOWN IN CROSS-SECTION. THESE
LINES ARE, OF COURSE, INVISIBLE.
of electro-magnets all around this and pointing
toward it, and, by keeping the cylinder or wheel
turning rapidly and continuously, we keep parts
of our coils cutting the fields of magnetism all the
time. And the pressures in all the small sec-
tions of wire that cut the fields add together and
produce a continuous pressure around the cylin-
der in all the coils. (See Fig. 3.)
In the first machines made years ago by Thomas
Edison there were only two magnets, and there
was such a small coil of wire that he had to
revolve the cylinder, upon which it was mounted,
at a tremendously high rate of speed to make up
for it. And even then, at over two thousand
revolutions per minute, he got up an electrical
pressure of only fifty "volts," or about one tenth
of the pressure on our present trolley lines. In
contrast to this there are now machines in New
York City with ninety-six magnets around a
FIG. 3. DIAGRAM OF SIX-POLE GENERATOR, END VIEW.
A, commutator segments; B, brushes; C, coils of wire collecting
pressure impulses; D, wire connecting negative brushes; E, wire
connecting positivebrushes; N-S, the field magnets — N, north poles;
S, south poles; +, the positive, or outflowing, current; — , the nega-
tive, or incoming, current.
huge wheel thirty-two feet in diameter, and they
get from these machines a pressure of eleven
thousand volts, and it takes an engine of eight
thousand horse-power to run each of them. Al-
FIG. 4. DIAGRAM SHOWING SIDE VIEW OF ARMATURE
WINDING, THE COILS, C (CORRESPONDING TO C IN
FIGURE 3), AND HOW THEY ARE CONNECTED
TO THE COMMUTATOR SEGMENTS, A.
N-S, FIELD MAGNETS.
though the big wheel only turns over seventy-
five times a minute, it is so big that the wires
1024
HOW ELECTRICITY IS GENERATED
cut the magnetic fields at the rate of a mile and
a quarter a minute. So quite a pressure is set up
in each part, and there is room for a great many
sections of wire around so large a wheel.
But in order to use the pressure and current
generated by thus passing these wires through
the magnetic fields, it is necessary to take it from
the coils- and send it out over wire to where it is
to be used. This is done in the commonest type
of machine by arranging at one end of the cyl-
inder or one side of the wheel a ring of small
copper bars, each one connected by a copper wire
to some part of the revolving coils. This ring of
copper bars is called a commutator. Small blocks
of "carbon," which is like compressed charcoal
powder, are made to bear lightly on this re-
volving ring of bars, and are so placed that before
one bar has passed out from under the block
another is coming under it, so that at least one
bar is always touching each block, or "brush," as
it is called. (See Fig. 4.) By properly placing
these "brushes" and connecting one set to the
supply wire and the other set to the return wire,
the current from the coils passes out to the copper
bars and is "picked off," or is allowed to pass
out, by one of these sets of brushes ; goes out
over the wire to the lights or motors and, coming
back on the return wire, goes into the coils again
through the other set of brushes and the copper
bars— all forced by the pressure set up in the in-
numerable small sections of wire cutting the mag-
netic fields. So, really, the wires outside the ma-
chine are like that part of the loop which you held
in your hand in the first experiment, while the
part of the loop which cut the magnetic field is
mounted on the wheel and is continuously gen-
erating current as the wheel, or "armature,"
revolves.
So the work of a dynamo is simply to create
an "electrical pressure" which will force a cur-
rent to flow if a path is provided for it to flow
through. This path is usually of copper wires
leading to lights or motors or heaters which in
themselves form part of the path the current
follows. These wires are often very long and
carry great amounts of power. In this country
electric power is sometimes carried over two hun-
dred miles from some mountain waterfall to a big
city where there is a demand for it in all its
many phases. In such cases the pressures are
very high, fifty or sixty thousand volts, or over a
thousand times as much as Edison obtained from
his first machines. So much have we progressed
in thirty years.
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THE SUMMER BATTLE
The tender vegetables cry,
"Alas ! alas ! what do we spy ?
Armies of weeds our ranks assail,
Our courage is of no avail !"
Sir Beet so brave is faint of heart,
E'en stout Old Squash may give a start
When tough Lord Burdock joins the throng
And tall Sir Mullein strides along.
"Help ! help !" they call in voices loud,
"Some ally join us \ 'gainst this crowd !
And at the cry there cometh, lo !
The Man, the great Man with the Hoe !
Now turns the tide of battle quick,
The weeds fly fast and dare not stick,
As all join in the charge so grand ;
The cantaloupes now have some sand,
The merry corn its tassel waves,
And says, "We never will be slaves";
And every little radish red,
Jumps up and dances in its bed.
Vol. XXXIX.-129.
HOW TO TIE KNOTS
BY H. D. JONES
Nothing disgusts an old sailor quite so much as
a landsman's clumsy attempts to tie a knot.
Every one can tie a knot of some sort. But any
one who thinks he or she knows how to tie a
knot properly, and does n't do it as a sailor does
it, has a lot to learn about the art of knot-tying.
Passing over in dignified silence the temptation
to make a humorous point of the last words in the
preceding sentence, the humor being entirely too
obvious to deserve especial attention, let us return
to the old sailor and his knotty point of order.
I. THE SLIP-KNOT THAT SLIPS WHEN IT SHOULD N T.
He says landsmen only know how to tie
"granny knots." The point is well taken. A
landsman can tie what is called by him a "slip"-
knot. A sailor will tell you the landsman's slip-
knot is rightly named. It is a knot that slips ; that
is, one that slips when it ought to hold. The
sailor ties his slip-knot so that it cannot slip in
the way it is not wanted to. In fact, all the sail-
or's knots are tied to stay tied. For centuries the
sailor has known that his very life may at times
depend upon the firmness of a knot. So genera-
tions of sailors have had to study the art of knot-
tying, seeking to improve on methods of fastening
together two ends of rope or of joining the end
or ends to a stationary object, so that nothing
short of the breaking of the rope will cause a
separation.
Through all these centuries, landsmen have
gone contentedly on tying their "granny" or
"slip"-knots, indifferent to the fund of informa-
tion that sailors could give them on the subject.
Men have n't time to learn to tie new knots. But
boys have, or, at least, school-boys have.
This thought prompted one of the instructors
at the North East Manual Training School in
Philadelphia to introduce his boys to scientific
knotting. During his early life, this instructor
had achieved a working acquaintance with all the
knots used by sailors aboard ship, and this
knowledge is now
being imparted to
the boys under
his charge.
In the class-
room is a case of
specimen knots
that the boys have
to copy. All these
knots are of a
pattern calculated
to be of most use
to a landsman in
his daily life. The
knots are useful
in many ways—
in tying a parcel,
binding bundles,
or any of the
score of emergencies when men and women have
to tie a knot in a hurry.
It is remarkable to one who studies these knots
what a difference one little simple twist of the
cord will make in the holding power of a knot.
The "granny knot" is changed, by this little sim-
THE EXTRA LOOP THAT KEEPS
THE SLIP-KNOT FROM SLIPPING
WHEN IT SHOULD N'T.
3. FOR TYING BUNDLES.
pie twist, from a knot that comes untied with
provoking readiness to one that tightens itself
and becomes only more difficult to untie when
pressure conies on the string.
Some of the simplest and most useful of the
1026
HOW TO TIE KNOTS
1027
knots were photographed by the instructor for
the purposes of this article. It will be necessary
to refer to the illustrations to understand per-
4. THE WRONG WAY TO TIE TWO PIECES OF STRING
TOGETHER — THE GRANNY KNOT.
fectly how the knots should be tied. Those se-
lected are knots that are of use in the daily life
of almost every one.
One of the simplest and most interesting of the
suggestions is that shown in the slip-knot, illus-
trations 1 and 2. Every one of us use this simple
slip-knot, and we all make it in the same slipshod
way. To make a slip-knot, we simply tie a single
knot around the cord or rope, with the loose end,
and this makes a loop through which the cord can
be slipped and tightened. But it is like tying
one's shoe-lace with a single instead of a double
knot. The pressure is all on the single knot, and,
tighten the slip as you may, you cannot keep the
cord perfectly tight, because the slip itself gives.
The simple remedy is to tie the slip in a double
knot instead of a single one, as shown in the sec-
5. THE RIGHT WAY TO TIE TWO PIECES
OF STRING TOGETHER.
ond picture. Then it cannot come loose, and yet
it will slip just as easily as it did before.
One of the simplest and most useful hints in
the knot series is that shown in the picture
marked "for tying bundles." It is the invariable
rule for any amateur, wrestling with a knot for a
bundle or anything that is to be tied with a sim-
ple double knot, to tie the first knot, and then ask
some one to place a finger on the knot to hold it
while the second one is tied. Look at the picture
for a moment. You will see that the expert knot-
maker has given an extra twist to the first knot.
Then it stays in place, and there is no necessity
for your own thumb or that of any one else
being called into service to keep the first knot in
place.
In tying two pieces of string together, almost
every one ties the knot shown in the fourth
picture. This knot will not stand any strain.
It is a "granny knot." The right way to tie it is
shown in the following picture. The loop of each
piece is carried over both ends of the other piece,
instead of over only one, and the knot will not give.
O. HOW TO HITCH A LINE TO A POST.
The proper way to hitch a line to a post is the
subject of another illustration. If a simple knot
is tied, the sort of knot that every one will use
unless shown how to tie it properly, the line will
slip down the post, for there is nothing to tighten
it. It should be tied as shown in the picture, with
two loops, one over the other. It can easily be
seen by a little study of the picture which shows
the hitch tightened to the post, how this grips and
holds to the pole.
It will repay any one to study. these knots. It
may take a little time, if one is not familiar
with the subject, to get firmly in mind how the
knots should be tied; but once the idea is grasped,
it can never get away, and the knack once ac-
quired will prove of benefit every day of one's life.
And one can readily imagine many important
emergencies when this knowledge, having become
so familiar as to be acted upon instinctively, might
be of untold advantage to ourselves or others.
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
AND HER CHEERFUL LITTLE DOLL
(A "To-be-continued " story for Middle-Aged Little Folk)
BY CAROLINE STETSON ALLEN
Chapter VIII
THE DOLL BEGINS SCHOOL
I am sure you like Cousin Eleanor from what I
told you about her in the last chapter, and you
were to guess what made her manners so good.
I think it was Love, don't you ?
Well, the summer passed by, and September
came ; and Elizabeth's school opened. She began
then to think of Alice's education, too.
"I will start a little school in the playhouse,"
said she, "and when we come from our school, I
can show her about doing sums and things."
Uncle Nathaniel had, on Jack's last birthday,
given him a tool-box, and in a short time, Jack
had learned to use the tools very handily, and was
now glad to help fit up the dolls' school-room.
The playhouse itself big Brother Bob had fash-
ioned out of a packing-box. It had three rooms
— a parlor, a kitchen, and a bedroom. Elizabeth
herself could stand upright in all these rooms.
She decided to cut off part of the parlor with a
screen she found in the attic, and to use the
smaller part of it for a bedroom. The former
bedroom she made into a school-room.
Jack contrived a simple desk for the teacher,
and a bench for her doll-pupils. He also tacked
up some pictures on the walls, and fastened little
wooden pegs for Alice's and Susie Jane's and the
other dolls' hats and jackets. Sophie contributed
some pencils, which, from being long once, had
dwindled to a size suitable for dolls to use.
Cousin Eleanor sewed some small sheets of paper
together for books, and in these books Elizabeth
copied words from her Speller and First Reader.
The packing-box — excuse me, I mean the
school-house, as it was now called — was out near
the barn. In some ways this was a drawback.
For instance, the attention of the three pupils,
with which the school began, often wandered
from the multiplication table when Bossy put her
head in at the window. The chickens were even
bolder than Bossy. They thought nothing of
walking into the school-room and hopping up onto
the young teacher's desk.
But, on the other hand, it certainly was de-
lightful to hear the different sounds of horses,
cow, dog, and poultry from the barn-yard.
And then often, when school was over, Eliza-
beth and Alice got a fine ride on Morning's back
from the barn to the house. Morning was a
gentle white horse. Jack liked best to ride Night,
the black horse, who was a fast trotter.
On Friday afternoons, the dolls regularly spoke
their pieces. Alice was taught every one of the
pieces Elizabeth learned at her school. One of
her favorites was "Seven Times One" by Jean
Ingelow. Ask your mama to read it to you.
Giest, the puppy, had a special invitation to come
in and hear Alice speak that poem, and when the
children clapped, after the last verse, he barked
his very loudest, as if to say, "Well done, Alice !"
Bossy, the calf, was the assistant. She carried
a bell tied about her neck, and when school was
to begin, she rang this bell, or, if she forgot to do
so at the proper time, Elizabeth or Charlotte rang
it for her.
One afternoon, Mama, with Baby Hugh in her
arms, came to visit the dolls' school. Elizabeth
saw them coming, and was delighted. She sprang
to the door to welcome her visitors.
"Good afternoon, Miss Dale," said Mama, shak-
ing hands with the teacher. "My son wished to
inquire into your methods, so we are come for a
little call."
The son yawned, and said, "Ah, goo !"
"I 'm glad to see you !" said Elizabeth. "Won't
you walk in?"
But then she looked a little embarrassed.
"My school-room happens to be a little low to-
day," she said regretfully; "but I '11 put a chair
in the doorway, and I '11 let Baby— I mean Mr.
Dale-hold Bobby Shafto."
"That will be much nicer than sitting indoors,"
said Mama. "I am sure my son agrees with me
that all school-rooms should be built so. I have
brought a little gift for your pupils."
So saying, Mama handed Elizabeth a little
package, which, on being opened, was found to
contain seven slates. They were three inches
long and two inches wide, and their wooden
frames were neatly bound with red flannel to pre-
vent noise. A little hole was bored in one corner,
and from a red ribbon fastened through this hole
in each slate hung a tiny slate-pencil.
"Thank you ever and ever so much, Mrs.
Dale !" said the teacher, her face beaming with
pleasure as she examined each slate separately.
1028
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
1029
"Children," said Elizabeth, turning to her row
of rather drooping pupils, "sit up straight and
see what the kind lady has brought you. Why,
here 's Uncle Nathaniel ! Oh, Uncle Nathaniel,
you can't get in ! You 're much too tall. Please
sit by Mrs. Dale, Mr. Gordon" (that was Uncle
Nathaniel's last name), "and I '11 put your hat
and cane in the corner."
"Don't let my cane alarm your pupils," said
Mr. Gordon, handing it to her with his cocked
hat, "I only use it when cat is spelled d-o-g. I
never could let that pass without correction."
ELIZABETH TEACHES HER PUPILS THE
MULTIPLICATION TABLE.
Mr. Gordon wore a dark blue coat of the olden
time, with brass buttons, a buff vest of faded
satin, knee-breeches, white stockings, and buckled
shoes.
"Where on earth!" began Mama.
" 'S-sh, Madam !" said Uncle Nathaniel, "we
interrupt the young ladies' song !"
The seven pupils (you see the school had
grown) sang together so well, that you might
have supposed you heard but one voice. They sang,
" Where has my little basket gone ? "
Said Charlie-boy one day.
" I think some little boy or girl
Has taken it away."
Just then young Mr. Dale gave a piercing
shriek, making every one jump. A bee had stung
him on his plump shoulder. So Mama, trying
her best to soothe him, carried him to the house.
"Come again !" shouted Elizabeth.
"Yes, thank you," called Mama.
"Which class would you like best to hear, Mr.
Gordon?" asked the teacher, when they had set-
tled back in their places.
"The class in analytical geometry, if you
please," said Uncle Nathaniel.
"We are n't studying that this term. To-day
it 's spelling or arithmetic."
"We '11 have a go at arithmetic," said Uncle
Nathaniel. "How many is one and one and one
and one and one and one?"
"Edith Grace Ermyntrude, you tell," said Eliza-
beth. But Edith Grace Ermyntrude would n't, or
could n't, tell. Uncle Nathaniel reached for his
cane.
"Oh, Uncle Nat — oh, Mr. Gordon, you said it
too fast for her," said Elizabeth. So Mr. Gordon,
obligingly laying down the cane, said it once
more, very slowly and distinctly. Even then,
alas ! Edith Grace Ermyntrude would n't speak
up.
"Why, I 'm ashamed of you !" said her teacher.
"Not to know that, and you half-past five, and
going on six ! Bobby Shafto, you may say," but
he violently shook his rubber head. Elizabeth
threw a glance of despair at the visitor, who said:
"Sad ! sad ! very sad !"
"I think Mr. Dale bit him, and that makes him
feel a little bit — "
"Bitten, you mean," said Uncle Nathaniel.
"A little bit stupid," said Elizabeth. "Bobby,
you may lie down awhile on the bench. Susie
Jane, tell the gentleman how many is one and one
and one and one and one."
"And one," added Mr. Gordon, leaning forward
eagerly, and gazing encouragingly into Susie
Jane's blank face.
"Think, dear !" said Elizabeth, patting Susie
Jane's bald head.
"Six !" came the triumphant answer.
"Very good. Go to the head!" said Elizabeth.
"Something 's gone to her head," said Uncle
Nathaniel ; "mark my words, that child studies
too hard. Every hair gone ! You never heard me
giving right answers at her age. And in arith-
metic, too ! Take her out of school for a year at
least. It '11 do wonders for her."
The young teacher rather heartlessly broke
into laughter.
"Jamie Gordon," said she, "tell the table of two."
Jamie Gordon rose stiffly, and said in haughty
tones :
" Once 2 is 2
2x2 are 4
3x2 are 6,"
and so on, up to 12 x 2.
"Wonderful ! Really wonderful T'saidthe visitor.
"Please, Mr. Gordon, I 'd rather you did n't
1030
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
[Sept.,
praise them. Jamie Gordon 's a little proud al-
ready."
"Of his bathing-suit? Tell him it 's giving out
at the arms," said Uncle Nathaniel.
"He 's acted proud ever since Grandmama
made him the Scotch cap," said Elizabeth. "Alice,
say the sevens."
Alice, looking a perfect dear in her blue
checked gingham and afternoon pinafore, arose
cheerfully, and began promisingly :
" Once 7 is 7."
("Sure it is!" from Mr. Gordon.)
"2x7 are 14
3x7 are 2 1
4x7 are — are — 25
5x7 — (a long stop) are 35
6x 7 6x 7 "
Elizabeth took from her belt a toy watch, and
gave a start of surprise. "Why! it 's past recess-
time ! Where is that calf? She 's never on hand
to ring her bell."
"I '11 whistle, instead," said Uncle Nathaniel,
blowing through his fingers. Out filed the pupils
for recess. They played "Button, button," and
Mr. Gordon sat on the grass and played with
them, and shoved off the chickens that came to
interrupt. They played "Round the green carpet
here we stand," and when they came to the line,
"Take your true love by the hand," Uncle Na-
thaniel took Susie Jane's rag hand in his, because
she was so bald and looked so hopelessly shabby
that he feared she might not otherwise be chosen
by any one. They played "Puss in the corner,"
in which Jamie Gordon distinguished himself
(but was not praised), and they played Alice's
favorite, "London Bridge."
Then school went on again, and Uncle Na-
thaniel, as he sat outside the door, looking on,
noticed many little acts of Alice that particularly
pleased him. For one thing, she recited in a low,
sweet voice. Then she was kind to the very little
dolls, and helped them learn their lessons ; and
when in spelling she went above Edith Grace
Ermyntrude, she was modest about it. She kept
her books in an orderly pile, and her slate washed.
Guess how many 6 x 7 is, and I will look it up,
and tell you the answer in the next chapter.
Chapter IX
THE DOLL'S LETTER
I find it is forty-two.
"Have you written to Grandmother Gordon to
thank her for the quilt she1 made for your doll?"
asked Cousin Eleanor of Elizabeth one afternoon,
laying down the magazine she had been reading.
Now Elizabeth had just settled herself to paint
a portrait of Alice in the position she always chose
for making pictures— lying flat on the rug with
her heels in the air. On the floor in front of her
were her paint-box and paper and a glass of
water. Hiro, a Japanese doll-visitor, was watch-
ing every movement with the greatest interest.
As Elizabeth did not answer, Cousin Eleanor
asked, "How would it be if Alice wrote the letter?
Would you like that better?" she asked. "And
would she like a sheet of my very very best light
blue note-paper ? It has E. D. in silver letters at
the top, and those are your initials as well as
mine."
Elizabeth rubbed her rosy cheek softly against
Cousin Eleanor's. And Cousin Eleanor, who was
apt to run in going up and down stairs, was back
again in a jiffy. The delicate blue paper, with its
silver E. D. held in a silver circle, was even pret-
tier than Elizabeth had imagined.
"Oh, how lovely ! Thank you very much,
Cousin Eleanor," said Elizabeth. "But may I
finish my portrait of Alice now and write the
letter in the morning, please?"
"Yes, indeed, dear," said Cousin Eleanor.
So next morning, as soon as breakfast was over,
Alice sat on the edge of the desk and managed,
with her little mother's help, to hold the pen.
As Mama had taught Elizabeth, so now Elizabeth
taught her doll to first write, in the upper right-
hand corner, the name of the town. South Sher-
burne (Sherburne means "clear water"). Under
the town, Alice wrote the date, September 17.
Somewhat lower down, but to the left of the
page, she wrote, "Deer Grate-Grandmuther."
The next line Cousin Eleanor told her should
start under the letter n, and Elizabeth wrote :
My mama is reading me a story called the Seven litle
Sisters. But thay dont live in one place as Aunt Chariot
and Aunt Sophie and Mama do. Cousin Eleanor got the
book from the liberry. It has pictures of all the seven
litle sisters. It tells all about several places in the world.
I wish I was an Eskymow.
With love from Elizabeth,
A. D.
P. S. Thank you very much for the cwilt. I like it on
my crib.
Elizabeth began to think she liked letter-writ-
ing. She decided it would be fun to have a post-
office out-of-doors, and then Charlotte's dolls and
hers could write letters to one another. She ran
to find Charlotte and tell her about the plan.
Charlotte, too, thought it would be fun.
"But I can only spell four words," said she.
"What are they?" asked Elizabeth, anxiously.
"Cat and bat and rat and sat."
"P'r'aps, if I helped, a letter could be made of
those," said Elizabeth, a bit doubtfully. And this
igi2.]
AND HER CHEERFUL LITTLE DOLL
1031
was Charlotte's first attempt, written in large let-
ters, with Elizabeth's help :
Dear Susie Jane :
I sat and saw the cat till a rat came, and then I tuk a
bat and hit the cat, so then it did not hert that rat.
From Bobby Shafto.
"I '11 write your next letter," said big Brother
Bob, who had been watching the children; "but
tell me first, where is your post-office to be?"
it could very well be a post-office. Of course
they were in a hurry to get a letter into the
new post-office, and, as Brother Bob wrote so
easily, they at once agreed that it was Charlotte's
turn to write again, so big Brother Bob wrote
for her :
My beloved Alice :
Yesterday Uncle Bob went to Boston, and bought
l by Charles C. Curran. Copyright by Robert Chapman Co.
"ELIZABETH HAD JUST SETTLED HERSELF TO PAINT A PORTRAIT OF ALICE."
"I don't know," said Elizabeth ; "out in the something for my mother, and it is up on her bed in a
field, I guess." brown PaPer ParceL
„„, °. , , , ,, .... „ ,, -□ , Yours with deep esteem,
Oh, it s too hot there, said big Brother Bob; Rosie.
"I '11 tell you a great place. Look at this hole in
the old oak." Rosie was one of Charlotte's dolls.
Sure enough, there was a deep hollow, all nicely Sophie was the postmistress, and after this let-
rounded out. Next month the squirrels might ter had been placed in the hole, Alice, wearing a
claim it for their winter's store of nuts, but now very becoming garden hat, walked up and said :
1032
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
[Sept.,
"Is there any mail for me to-day?"
"What is the number of your box?" asked
Sophie.
"8724," said Alice.
"I '11 see then," said Sophie. "Yes, miss,
there 's a letter for you, and it 's marked special
delivery— that means 'awfully important.' "
With Sophie's help the letter was read.
"The important part is for you, Charlotte," said
Sophie ; "go and see what Bob has put on your
bed."
The two little girls raced into the house and up-
stairs, and there, as the letter had said, on Char-
lotte's bed was a brown paper parcel. She very
quickly opened it, and found a charming little box
of doll's note-paper. The paper was in three
colors — pink, blue, and yellow, and on every sheet
was a little picture of some animal— a kitten on
one, a woolly lamb on another, and so on.
"Oh, goody, goody!" cried Charlotte; "and you
shall have a sheet of every color, and a ambe-
lope," she said to Elizabeth.
The rest of the afternoon was spent most hap-
pily by the little sisters. Besides the letters
that passed between the dolls, they wrote letters
to all the members of the family; and Jack, as
postman, delivered them, and brought back the
answers.
mM
I
! fie<7-r>.iwAuM
SOME OF THE LET-
TERS FKOM THE OLD
OAK POST-OFFICE.
-saw. TKe c^^.
Guess what my last chapter is to be about, and
I will tell you the answer in a moment.
Chapter X
THE DOLLS' CHRISTMAS
"It 's almost Christmas !" cried Uncle Nathaniel,
as he came out of his room, "and so I have to
jump down-stairs four steps at a time!"
Behind him, jumping two steps at a time, came
Elizabeth and Alice, Sophie, Jack, and little Char-
lotte.
Mama appeared at the dining-room door.
"I 'm so sorry, Nathaniel, about your break-
fast," she began. "The kitchen stove won't work,
and the man has n't come yet to fix it. I 'm afraid
you '11 have to make out with bread and milk."
"What do / care? Christmas is coming!"
And he seized the children's hands, and danced
around the dining-room table.
"Bread and milk is cjuite suitable for him !"
said Papa, laughing. "And yet," said Uncle Na-
thaniel, taking his place at the table next to Char-
lotte, "it grieves me to think that stove acts so.
Here I 've kept it warm all winter !"
"You!" said Mama.
"And now it refuses to work !" went on Uncle
Nathaniel. "I met it with a stovepipe on this
morning. 'Going out?' said I. It turned ashy
pale. 'You 're always putting a damper on me !'
I heard it say. 'Well, sir, just you remember one
thing,' said I, 'no smoking allowed in this house !' "
"I don't like just only bread for breakfast!"
whined Charlotte.
"Not like it !" said Uncle Nathaniel, opening his
eyes very wide. "Why, I don't believe any one
told you about its being Baker's bread. We
hardly ever have Baker's bread, you know. Can
I have as much as a whole slice?" turning to
Mama.
"Is it Baker's bread?" asked Charlotte, doubt-
fully.
"Yes, honey," said Cousin Eleanor. Charlotte
smiled, and began to crumble her bread into her
bowl of milk, while Mrs. Dale, who had sat down
to breakfast with a look of worry, began to feel
at ease.
"See how it 's snowing!" said Uncle Nathaniel.
"I don't see one leastest bit," said Charlotte,
twisting around in her High chair to look out at
the bright 'blue sky.
"Oh, not out there!" and down came the last
third of Uncle Nathaniel's slice of bread in a
shower of snowy flakes into his bowl ; for he had
insisted on having a bowl of milk with the chil-
dren.
"My crust is hard and cold," said Jack.
"Hurrah ! Just the thing for icicles !" said
Uncle Nathaniel ; and he took Jack's crust, and
cut it in five long strips, turning it, as if by
magic, into a delicious treat.
Cousin Eleanor looked at Jack's now joyous
face and Charlotte's contented one, and at Eliza-
beth keeping a motherly eye on her pink-cheeked
daughter. She looked at Mrs. Dale's smooth
brow, and then at Uncle Nathaniel, so eager and
1912.]
AND HER CHEERFUL LITTLE DOLL
1033
boyish. Cousin Eleanor thought a bachelor uncle
was a pretty good thing to have in a house.
Hannah thought so, too, as, from the kitchen, she
heard them all laughing cheerily.
Yes, it was the day before Christmas ! And
Sophie, Elizabeth, and Charlotte were soon busy
tying up the parcels. Alice had taken the last
"JACK GAVE ALICE AND SUSIE JANE A RIDE AROUND THE TREE
stitch in every one of her gifts, and now sat with
folded hands. For her mama she had made a
book-mark of scarlet ribbon, with a silver star
on each end. For her eldest sister, Edith Grace
Ermyntrude, she had made a fan. The fan was
first outlined upon cardboard and cut out, and
then gilt paper smoothly pasted over it. (Sophie
made the paste, of flour and water.) An edge of
blue-laced paper was pasted on the fan. For her
darling sister Susie Jane, Alice had printed a tiny
story-book, telling all she could remember about
"The Seven Little Sisters." She wrote Susie
Jane's name in it, with ink, and never a blot.'
The cover was of Gordon plaid silk, stitched upon
Vol. XXXIX. -130.
cardboard. Alice could hardly sleep a wink for
thinking of how glad Susie Jane would be when
she should see the book. For Jamie Gordon, she
had bought a watch at the doll-shop. The watch
was so large, or, rather, Jamie Gordon was so
particularly small, that it bade fair to cover a
large share of his favorite costume, the bathing-
suit. The hands of the watch would n't move,
but, then, they pointed always to one o'clock — a
charming hour, since it was dinner-time.
There was a present from Alice to Cousin
Eleanor, too, — a handkerchief, hemmed with
large stitches to be sure; and yet I have seen
larger, and Mama said she was sure she had.
Now, don't you think that was a nice col-
lection of gifts for a little doll to make?
At bedtime, not only the children's
stockings but all the family's were
hung up by the nursery fireplace.
Uncle Nathaniel was over six feet
tall, and his feet of a size to
match, yet he thought it nec-
essary, before he hung up his
gray sock, to stretch it, by
squeezing into it one of his
riding-boots. Next to this
large sock hung Baby Hugh's
wee white one ; and all
the dolls' stockings came
promptly in line.
I have n't room to tell you
what went into all of them,
but Alice's and Susie Jane's
held each, among other
things, a pair of doll's knit-
ting-needles, with balls of
knitting silk — Alice's pink,
and Susie Jane's green.
Jack put a generous bag of
peanut candy in Uncle Na-
thaniel's sock. "He does n't
eat candy much," he thought,
"but I guess he '11 do some-
thing with it. I 'm sure it won't be wasted."
"Try to go to sleep, deary," whispered Eliza-
beth to Alice, as she finally left her in her crib,
staring with wide, blue eyes. "You ought to feel
rested and happy to-morrow !"
It seems every year as if Christmas morning
would never, never come, does n't it? And then
— it is here ! And this one was such a Christmas
morning ! The round-faced sun was so eager to
see the insides of children's stockings, that he
looked daringly in every window. The ice-clad
trees flashed "Merry Christmas !" one to another ;
and on all sides of the house, as one looked off
over the fields, lay snow— snow — snow !
1034
THE CHEERFUL LITTLE GIRL
And as the sun looked in at the Dales' nursery,
he saw all the family hopping about the fireplace.
Yes, hopping; even Grandpapa was hopping, as
he tooted a most beautiful brand-new horn. Uncle
Nathaniel was riding a hobby-horse, and big
Brother Bob was beating a drum.
Susie Jane and Alice kissed each other in rap-
ture as they found their cunning knitting-needles.
Where was Baby Hugh? Oh, he was up half-
way to the ceiling, tossed by Papa, and crowing
loudly, while Jack sent his scarlet-and-white ball
even higher.
Cousin Eleanor had hung evergreen wreaths
in all the down-stairs windows. They were tied
with cheerful red ribbons. The breakfast-table
was garlanded with holly, and had at Papa's end
a bunch of mistletoe (because he was partly Eng-
lish), and at Mama's end a bunch of heather
(because she was partly Scotch).
Elizabeth and Charlotte instantly spied in one
corner a dolls' table, spread with a white cloth,
and upon it a dolls' tea-set, of such a pretty de-
sign, all sprinkled with rosebuds, that the little
girls jumped up and down, and jumped up and
down, and clapped their hands ! Bobby Shafto,
clad in a becoming new sailor-suit, stepped grace-
fully to the head of the table, and Edith Grace
Ermyntrude, in festive white silk, rustled to her
place opposite. The other dolls were soon seated
along the sides, and bibs (bordered with holly)
were found at their plates.
All the family wished Hannah a "Merry Christ-
mas !" as she came in looking very proud of the
dish of muffins she set upon the table. They were
shaped like bells, and Uncle Nathaniel made be-
lieve cry when he found his bell would n't ring.
"We 're all going on a sleigh-ride to Dover,
darlings," said Mama, as every one got up from
the breakfast-table. "We 're going to get Aunt
Alice and your Cousin Polly, and bring them
home for the night."
Then what rejoicing ! For, you remember, I
told you Aunt Alice was "a perfect love." And
as for Polly, the P in her name might just as
well have been a J, though what the grown-ups
said was that she was her Uncle Nathaniel over
again to a T.
Jingle, jingle, jingle ! round came the green-
and-scarlet sleigh — such a big one! — drawn by
Mettie and Jog. The horses tossed their heads,
and stamped upon the snow. You could see their
breath in the frosty air.
Alice sat on the front seat in Elizabeth's lap,
a little gray fur hood drawn closely around her
rosy cheeks, and her long gray coat buttoned
every button, to keep out the cold. Every one
THE
piled in, and away they went down the road —
jingle, jingle, jingle!
But perhaps the happiest part of the day was
toward its close, when they had the tree. Merry
as every one had been throughout the day, they
were then even merrier. Mr. Tom Gray and the
Hallowells were invited over to share the fun.
Mama and Cousin Eleanor trimmed the tree, all
but the candles. Mr. Tom put those on, and they
stood as straight as soldiers.
"I 'm so happy, I don't know what to do !" said
Elizabeth. And, to express her feelings, she con-
cluded to kiss Aunt Alice.
It was exactly as if all the seasons had joined
around and about the tree. There were the white
blossoms of spring bursting out everywhere, call
them pop-corn if you will. If you wanted June
roses, you had only to look at Cousin Eleanor in
her pink merino, and at the glowing faces of the
children grouped about her knees. Surely those
were autumn fruits hanging amid the branches !
And the fir-tree, self-forgetful, content to be
almost hidden, stood for the winter joy of Christ-
mas.
Alice had a little tree of her own, brought by
Aunt Alice. You may be sure she shared it with
all the other dolls. One of her own presents was
a mite of a doll. Its frock was of pink merino,
just like Cousin Eleanor's gown, and I think this
kind cousin made it. Another present was a sled
big enough to hold two dolls. Big Brother Bob
made it. It was painted scarlet, and had
"Alice" in white letters on the side. Jack im-
mediately gave Alice and Susie Jane a ride
around the tree, that they might see its splendors
from all sides.
The presents of the grown-ups did n't look very
interesting— just stupid aprons, paper-cutters, dry
books, etc. Yet the grown-ups looked pleased. Es-
pecially did Aunt Alice look happy when, at night-
fall, big Brother Bob put into her hands a bunch
of white roses, and she found tucked among them
this verse of Stevenson's:
Chief of our aunts— not only I,
But all your dozen nurselings cry —
What did the other children do?
And what were childhood, wanting you?
If there only were another chapter, I could ask
you to guess who slept in a little cot-bed near
Aunt Alice that night, and wakened the first thing
in the morning to hear about Christmas in the
olden time ? Then, by merely turning over the
page, I could tell you that it was Elizabeth, though
you would probably have guessed it. But, you
see, there is n't any next chapter. This is all.
END.
NATURE* ^
| EDITED BY EDWARD F. BIGELOW.
YOUNG PEOPLE AND BRIDGES
Bridges seem simple affairs to young people in
their first acquaintance with them. Perhaps they
have noticed the natural bridges made by inter-
lacing branches which the squirrels use as they
scamper from tree to tree.
The bridges one ordinarily finds spanning small
streams on country roads are made on as simple
a principle. Across the brook from bank to bank
are laid two or three logs or beams of sufficient
strength and stiffness to support the weights that
are to pass over the bridge. Planks are then laid
THE SQUIRRELS BRIDGE IN THE BRANCHES, A SIMPLE
GIRDER-BRIDGE OVER A BROOK, AND THE SPIDER'S
SUSPENSION-BRIDGES IN THE GRASSES.
across these supports to form the roadway. The
railing, as shown in the heading above, has, of
course, nothing to do with the strength of the
structure, but is merely for the added safety of
pedestrians and teams. In the foreground of the
illustration is shown one of nature's suspension-
bridges, the web of a spider. Sometimes the
spider, in building such a bridge, suspends herself
from a leaf, and from that leaf extends the
threads of her web in every direction. The leaf
affords a good point of attachment for the radi-
ating web. Here, as in the well-known suspen-
sion-bridges that hang from cables, the strength
depends upon the strength of the suspending
fibers. Monkeys, in making use of a grape-vine
over a stream, as travelers affirm that they do,
are practically using a suspension-bridge.
But the first bridge to give young people trou-
ble is described in Csesar's Commentaries "De
Bello Gallico." The building of this bridge,
Csesar says, was of the greatest difficulty. And I
know young people who wish that he had never
attempted such a feat, but had stayed where he
was. He tells us, after describing the breadth,
depth, and rapidity of the river Rhine, that he
thought he ought to cross it, and he devised this
bridge. Then trouble began, not only for him,
but for the young student, as he threw in the big
timbers, and the big words, and the long sen-
tences, ending with an explanation of his devices
to prevent the enemy from sending down the
1036
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[Sept.,
swiftly flowing current trees that might carry
away his bridge.
Our young people, I think, will be glad to have
CyESAR S VEltY SIMPLE FORM OF BRIDGE
us not only illustrate this bridge, but also give
them a simple translation of the text explaining
the construction, as follows :
"He joined together, at the distance of two feet,
two piles, each a foot and a half thick, sharpened
a little at the lower end, and proportioned in
length to the depth of the river. After he had,
by means of engines, sunk these into the river,
and fixed them at the bottom, and then driven
them in with rammers, not quite perpendicularly,
like a stake, but bending forward and sloping, so
as to incline in the direction
of the current of the river,
he also placed two (other
piles) opposite to these, at
the distance of forty feet
lower down, fastened to-
gether in the same manner,
but directed against the force
and current of the river.
Both these, moreover, were
kept firmly apart by beams
two feet thick (the space
which the binding of the piles
occupied), laid in at their
extremities between two
braces on each side ; and in
consequence of these being
in different directions and
fastened on sides the one
opposite to the other, so
great was the strength of the work, and such
the arrangement of the materials, that in pro-
portion as the greater body of water dashed
against the bridge, so much the closer were its
parts held fastened together. These beams were
bound together by timber laid over them in the
direction of the length of the bridge, and were
(then) covered over with laths and hurdles; and.
BROAD "A TO ADD TO THE STRENGTH.
igi2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
1037
in addition to this, piles were driven into the
water obliquely, at the lower side of the bridge,
and these, serving as buttresses and being con-
nected with every portion of the work, sustained
the force of the stream, and there were others
also above the bridge, at a moderate distance ;
that if trunks of trees or vessels were floated
down the river by the barbarians for the purpose
of destroying the work, the violence of such
things might be diminished by these defenses, and
might not injure the bridge."
Qesar's bridge was practically a repetition of
the simple bridges that we see on country roads
over the brooks, with the exception that he built
a series of them and put in piers to support the
ends of each section. The strength of the bridge
depended wholly upon the stiffness of the timbers.
If one could imagine a series of brooks flowing
side by side with a bridge over each, the result
would be the same as Caesar's bridge, with the
exception that the narrow banks between the
parallel brooks would be equivalent to the posts
that Caesar put at the different sections.
The next step in strengthening a bridge so that
it shall not depend entirely upon the stiffness of
the timber, is to put in on each side a truss shaped
like a very broad A. This form of truss is used
where the span is so great that the timbers laid
from bank to bank need additional support. The
vertical rod running from the timber underneath
through the apex of the letter A holds up the
center of the beam and prevents it from sagging.
The lower ends of the A are kept from spreading
by being bolted through the horizontal beam.
In our diagrams are shown these various types
of bridges, as follows :
No. I may be used if the timbers are too short
to reach across from one pier to another, and
more than one length is needed. Where they
are joined the rods beneath carry the weight, and
hold up the floor timbers by supporting the up-
right post. No. 2 is the same, only, instead of
rods and beams, it is made entirely of planks or
iron girders bolted together, and the A may be
under or over the bridge. In No. 3 there are two
supporting posts (instead of a single one) united
by a horizontal beam. In the arch bridge in No.
4, the principle is about the same as in the truss,
except that in the arch it is the abutments that
keep the ends from spreading. If the arc of the
arch bridge is less than a half-circle, the ends
will tend to spread. If the arc is a complete half-
circle, the ends will" not spread, but will rest with
the weight pressing vertically on the piers. The
arrows in diagrams No. 4 and No. 5 show the
direction of the weight, and it will be readily
seen that in No. 4 this weight tends to push the
SKETCHES TO ILLUSTRATE VARIOUS FORMS AND METHODS
OF OPERATING OF PARTS OF BRIDGES AND ARCHES.
These sketches are referred to by numbers in the accompanying article.
ends apart ; but such spreading is prevented by
the abutments. In No. 5 the weight on the ends
is directly downward.
No. 6 shows the principle of the rolling lift-
bridge, a form of drawbridge. The solid part is
heavy, so as to balance the truss part, and to
enable the bridge to be easily lifted out of the
way of passing boats. One of these sections is on
each side of the stream, and, when closed, the
ends come together at the center. This bridge
operates in a way similar to that of the weighted
aluminium pepper-shaker figured in No. 7. The
lower part of the pepper-box is a solid weight,
which keeps the box right end up, and the lower
part of the bridge No. 6 is a heavy weight that
assists in raising the rest of the bridge.
In southern Africa there is a very high bridge
over the Zambesi River. The workmen first
fired a rocket over the river. To this rocket was
attached a cord. The cord pulled a wire, and
then the wire pulled a small cable across the river.
On this cable was suspended a truck which took
over the main cable of the bridge, and so, piece
by piece, the bridge was gradually put together.
1038
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[Sept.,
A REMARKABLE PHOTOGRAPH OF
LIGHTNING
November ii, 191 i, was, in northern Michigan, a
typical autumn day with short showers at inter-
vals. On my way home, at about five o'clock in
THE REMARKABLE PHOTOGRAPH OF LIGHTNING.
the afternoon, the rain began to fall in torrents,
and the lightning flashes were so vivid and, in
some particulars, so interesting to a photog-
rapher, that I resolved to take a picture of a flash,
as I had long desired to do. I set the camera on
my porch, directed it toward that part of the
landscape that would make a good foreground,
opened the slide, and went to supper. But just
before I sat down at the table, I looked out of the
window and was met by an awful flash. I felt
that I had got a picture, perhaps more than I
wanted. When I developed the plate, I had the
accompanying photograph, at which I often look
and always with joy. The next day, as I was
bragging a little, one of my friends said that that
lightning flash struck his clothes-post, cut it off
close to the ground, jumped across to his neigh-
bor's house, tipped over the sewing-machine, and
tore the linoleum from the kitchen floor. Such a
flash as that deserved to have its picture taken,
and here it is. A. B. Covey.
STRIKING CONTRAST IN METHODS
OF FEEDING
Every observer of the giraffe must see that na-
ture has intended that the animal's food should
be found at a considerable distance above the
ground. The long legs and the very long neck
suggest that, and observation proves it, since the
giraffe, in its native haunts, gathers its food of
leaves from the branches of the trees.
But it does not obtain all its nourishment in
this way ; it sometimes feeds from the ground.
Of course its long legs and long neck are then
hindrances rather than helps, so it has adopted
an original device to overcome this trouble. This
is to spread its front legs far apart, which, of
course, lowers the body, and brings the head
nearer the ground.
The accompanying photograph is remarkable
because it shows both methods of feeding, as ex-
emplified by the two Nubian giraffes, "Romeo"
METHODS OF HIGH AND LOW FEEDING.
and "Juliet," in tne New York Zoological Park,
where the giraffe feeding from the tree is reach-
ing upward to a distance of twenty feet.
ioiz.J
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
1039
HOW AN ELEPHANT'S TEETH GROW
The elephant has no cutting teeth like most ani-
mals, but only a series of molars. These molars,
or grinders, as they wear away, gradually move
forward in the jaw, and the remnant of the
tooth, when the surface is completely destroyed,
is cast out in front. The same molar can thus be
replaced as many as eight times. The tusks,
which are only enormously elongated teeth, can
be renewed only once.
This wearing process and the ejection of the
stump of the tooth go on very slowly during the
life of the elephant. Only one or two teeth at a
time are in use, or in view, in each jaw. There
are always other teeth waiting to pass forward
and begin their work, although there is a limit to
this succession, for, when the last has come into
A DIAGRAM OF THE MOUTH AND JAWS OF
AN ELEPHANT — SIDE VIEW.
A and B show the teeth that have been pushed forward to the front
of the mouth and are in use. When they are worn out, their place is
taken by D and C, which work forward to supply the vacancy. The
undeveloped teeth at E and F come forward to take the place of D and
C, and later, as they grow larger and stronger, of A and B.
use and been worn down, the elephant can no
longer chew his food, and must die of starvation,
if he has not already succumbed to old age.
E. G. Lutz.
PRICKLY-PEAR IN A TREE!
This picture shows a prickly-pear, Opuntia lind-
heimeri, growing on a mesquit-tree, Prosopis juli-
flora, in the crevice of a limb about ten feet
from the ground.
It is three to four years old, and has received
THE PRICKLY-PEAR GROWING UP IN A TREE.
its nourishment from the air, and not from the
tree. The seed was probably carried to the place
by a bird, and the germination and development
of the plant to its present size show its wonder-
ful vitality, especially when we consider the arid
climate in which it grows. Leslie L. Long.
A HORNETS' NEST IN AN OLD PHAETON
The accompanying photograph, showing a hor-
nets' nest built in the cover of an old phaeton,
was sent to St. Nicholas by W. T. Ness, Cam-
bridge, Massachusetts. The shed in which the
phaeton stood was closed for the summer, and
THE HORNETS NEST HANGING FROM THE
TOP OF A PHAETON.
the hornets carried on their nest-building without
interruption.
Surely this is a novel place for a hornets' nest,
and it would have made things decidedly unpleas-
ant if the owners had attempted to take a ride.
1040
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[Sept.,
^'BECAUSE- WE
[WANT TO KNOW"
polliwogs from the sky!
Arlington Heights, Mass.
Dear St. Nicholas: A few years ago, we had a shower
in the summer-time, and as it rained, here and there com-
ing down with the rain, we saw an occasional polliwog.
There is a swamp not far from where we live. Do you
think it was possible that the sun had drawn up the eggs,
and then they had hatched as they came with the rain onto
the dry ground?
Very truly yours,
Helen. E. Birch.
While we keep no record of such occurrences, we do
know that it is not at all unusual for objects like polli-
wogs, small fish, etc., to be sucked up, as it were, from
water surfaces in strong currents. These are carried for
distances, depending upon the wind velocity, after they
have reached their highest altitude, and descend as soon as
the force of gravity is sufficient to overcome the sustaining
force of the wind. At times, such small objects are car-
ried many miles before again coming to earth.
I am afraid that the suggestion of the little girl as to the
hatching out of the polliwog eggs while in the air will
hardly hold. — H. E. Williams, Acting Chief U. S. Wea-
ther Bureau.
At first thought, the suggestion that polliwogs
had hatched in the air does seem ludicrous. And
yet let us give it a little careful thought and see
if it is impossible. Hatching we understand to
mean the breaking of the living form out of its
egg case. Frogs' eggs are so fragile that even
a jarring of the masses may break the cases and
let loose many lively tadpoles. If it is admitted
that the water as it is sucked up takes up small
TADPOLES READY TO BREAK OUT OF THE FRAGILE EGGS
objects with it, then why not frogs* eggs? It
seems not impossible that the tadpoles might be
hatched out by the shaking caused by strong cur-
rents of wind, or by jostling against other "small
objects" high in the air. Even if it is an unusual
suggestion that tadpoles hatch out high in the
sky, it does not seem to me impossible. — E. F. B.
an interesting experience with horned toads
Llano, Tex.
Dear St. Nicholas: I am having the best vacation
down here in Texas. My uncle knows so much. We
take long walks about the time the sun sets, and he tells
horned toads.
me about the flowers and cacti ; and yesterday we saw the
funniest little toad, all covered with thorns. He was
squatted right down in an "ant road." You know the
ants make little paths to different places ; well, this funny
"horned toad," as my uncle says it is called, was there,
eating the ants. He just opened his mouth and they would
run right in, and he just ate and ate as if they were as good
as ice-cream. Then Uncle picked that toad up in his
hands, and showed me that it would n't hurt you at all.
And then he put it in his pocket. We found another one,
and when we got back home, he took their pictures.
Don't you think them funny little toads?
Miriam Grace Dungan.
P.S. We turned the toads out the next morning so they
could eat more ants.
DO SNAKES TRAVEL AT NIGHT?
Salamanca, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please tell me through
"Nature and Science" if snakes come out or travel at
night, especially rattlesnakes.
Your friend and reader,
John Spencer.
Many of the poisonous species of snakes travel
at night. The greater number of our harmless
snakes are day prowlers. The rattlesnake and
copperhead snake are largely nocturnal in hunt-
ing their food, although they delight to bask in
the sunlight. As an indication of their nocturnal
habits, it is interesting to note that the pupil of
the eye of these snakes is elliptical like that of a
cat. Raymond Ditmars.
IQI2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
1041
some birds who liked a shower-bath
Louisville, Ky.
Dear St. Nicholas: I wish to tell you about a pretty
sight I witnessed while visiting my aunt who resides in
Indianapolis.
My aunt had rented a house for the summer. It was in
the district of the city where there are a great many trees.
In the yard was a large variety of beautiful flowers, and I
had made it my duty to give these flowers water.
On a certain day I was in the garden giving them their
daily watering. I had adjusted the hose to a spray, when,
from a near-by fence, a robin flew and perched right on a
stem which was exposed to the water, where he took a
bath and seemed inclined to stay. In a few moments two
other birds, of bluish color, also came and took a bath.
For about three minutes they stayed under the spray, and
if I turned the hose away, they would fly after it. Then
they flew up on the fence to take a sun-bath.
I then turned the water off and went into the house,
where, on questioning my aunt, she informed me that the
owner of the house always gave the birds water and crumbs
and let them bathe, and so made them very tame.
Another time as I went to turn on the water, I noticed
a leak where the hose was attached to the pipe, and under
that, in the shade, a sparrow was taking a shower-bath,
being not in the least frightened when I came up.
These incidents impressed me very much, as in my home
city, at least in the part where I live, we seldom see any
bird but the common sparrow.
Olga Alma Tafel (age 15).
LOOKING AT THE RISING OR SETTING SUN
Washington, D. C.
Dear St. Nicholas : I have often wondered why we
can look at the sun at its rising and setting and not at
mid-day. I would be very glad if you would answer my
question.
Yours sincerely,
Katharine Ward.
The reason why we can look at the sun when
it is rising or setting, but not, usually, when it is
high in the heavens, is merely because some of its
light is absorbed in passing through our air, for
the air is not perfectly transparent. Now when
the sun is near the ground, its rays come to us
almost horizontally, traversing hundreds of miles
of our wet and dusty air before they finally reach
our eyes ; consequently, a much larger portion of
the light is absorbed than when the sun is high
up in the sky, and its rays pass through one hun-
dred miles of air only, the upper nine tenths of
which is so rare that it absorbs but little of the
light.
It is an interesting fact that our atmosphere
lets red light pass through it more easily than
colors that are higher in the spectrum — that is,
nearer to a blue color. So that when the air is
unusually dusty, and hence not so transparent as
usual, very much of the blue part of the sun's
light is wholly cut off, and its disk then appears
to us very red. This was strikingly illustrated in
August, 1883, when the great volcano, Krakatoa,
filled all the air of the earth with dust, and when
for many weeks the sun at rising and setting was
Vol. XXXIX. -131.
of a deep red color. It is thought that if we
could rise above our air altogether and look at
the sun from empty space, it would look to us
decidedly blue. On the other hand, some stars
are great suns which are smothered under so
heavy an atmosphere of gases that only the red
light can work its way through. Such stars look
to us of a blood red color. — E. D.
SOME BIG HAILSTONES
{From one of oitr grown-up readers)
Birmingham, Ala.
Dear St. Nicholas: I am sending you herewith two
photographs of unusually large hailstones which fell near
here in the afternoon of May II, during the progress of a
storm which developed cyclonic proportions by the time it
reached the town of Talladega, about one hundred miles to
the east.
The hail, which fell for nearly forty-five minutes, was,
in the beginning, of globular form and about the size of
pop-'corn ; but as the storm continued, the stones increased
unusually large hailstones.
in size until they attained a length of one and one half to
two inches, as shown in the photographs. These larger
hailstones were not globular, but were flattened on two
sides, being shaped very much like biscuits. They pre-
sented the curious appearance of an opaque core surrounded
by rings increasing in clearness toward the outer edges.
Yours very truly,
J. C. Halstead.
JACK AND JANE AND BETSY ANNE
"IN THE HAYFIELD
RHYMES AND PICTURES
Brisk Jane and little Betsy Anne
Bring hay for Jack, the "hired man,"
Who piles it up a bit too high
(So Neddy thinks, ^_ and so do I).
For they forget that little hill
Where loads of hay are apt to spill —
Right down on Neddy's back they go,
And Neddy thinks, " I told you so ! "
JACK AND JANE AND BETSY ANNE
FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
"JERRY'S JOKE"
Billy, riding Jerry, spied
Some apples on the tree,
And reaching from his saddle, said :
" This one is meant for me ! "
But Jerry had a different mind,
For just as Billy spoke,
The pony left him hanging there -
And that was Jerry's joke !
1043
"A HEADING FOR SEPTEMBER." BY JEFFREY
CLARK WEBSTER, AGE 15. (HONOR MEMBER.)
It seemed, as we were attempting to make the awards
this month, as if some kindly spirit of excellence had in-
spired the efforts of every one of the League contributors.
In each department of the competition the work is of an
unusually high standard. Indeed it is so uniformly good
that we find it difficult to offer any but the most all-inclu-
sive congratulations. If, however, the work of a particular
group is to be singled out for special comment, the wield-
ers of the pen and brush must be mentioned first. They
stand at the head of the prize-winners with an array of two
gold and five silver badges to their credit. Of this
honor they may justly be proud, for the drawings we have
considered worthy of reproduction in this issue are re-
markably clever, both in arrangement and in treatment.
Two or three, in their technical excellence, compare favor-
ably with the work of experienced illustrators. In fact,
the task of sifting and selecting the prize-winning draw-
ings from the great mass of material submitted was almost
like choosing the winners of the Olympic meet — each
represented the finished work of one well qualified to com-
pete. Let us hope, in future competitions, that the selec-
tion may be as difficult and the quality as high.
Close behind the artists come the poets of the League,
whose contributions, always good, maintain their usual
standard of excellence. The mysticism and romance of
the great forests, the solitude and grandeur of leafy
boughs and shady dells, are voiced with rare feeling in
many bits of exquisite verse, under the title, "A Song of
the Woods." Seldom, indeed, have better examples of
the songster's art graced the League pages, and never has
the nature-thought been more beautifully and tenderly
expressed.
Many interesting stories of "Seaside Adventures" —
reminiscent or fictional in character — do much to reflect
credit on the pens of their young authors. All of the
stories are entertaining, some are amusing, and a few give
great promise for the future. These, with a host of
photographs showing all manner of animals and people
"On the March," help to maintain the notable level of this
month's competition, and make it difficult to single out
any class of contribution as more worthy of comment than
the others. Everything'vs, good, and all our young workers
can share alike in the glory, for there is plenty to go well
around, with still some left over.
PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 151
In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.
PROSE. Gold badge, Elizabeth Finley (age 13), New York City.
Silver badges, Josephine R. Carter (age 10), Elizabeth, N. J. ; Muriel Irving (age 15), Tompkinsville, S. I. ; Dorothy
M. Hoogs (age 15), Honolulu, Hawaii.
VERSE. Gold badge, Anna Torrey (age 14), Providence, R. I.
Silver badges, S. V. Benet (age 13), Augusta, Ga. ; Margaret Tildsley (age 11), Spuyten Duyvil, N. Y. ; Nellie
Adams (age 13), Placerville, Cal. ; Margaret L. Shields (age 15), Hillsboro, O.
DRAWINGS. Gold badges, Dorothy E. Handsacker (age 13), Tacoma, Wash. ; Margaret Conty (age 16), New
York City.
Silver badges, John Milton (age 14), New York City ; Helen M. Roth (age 15), Oakland, Cal. ; Leonora Bemis (age 17),
Milton, Mass. ; Dorothy Hughes (age 14), Brooklyn, N. Y. ; Marjorie Benson (age 17), Flushing, N. Y.
PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badge, Paull Jacob (age 17), Wellsburg, W. Va.
Silver badges, Carol Clark (age 14), London, Eng. ; Christine J. Wagner (age 15), Mansfield, O. ; Catharine E.
Langdon (age 15), Toronto, Can.; J. Sherwin Murphy (age 15), Chicago, 111.; Dorothy Coate (age 17), New
Orleans, La.
PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badges, Henry Wilson (age 13), Columbus, O. ; Margaret M. Dooley (age 16), Oakland,
Cal. ; Mary Berger (age 13), Milwaukee, Wis. ; Helena A. Irvine (age 12), Vancouver, B. C.
PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badges, George Locke Howe (age 14), Bristol, R. I. ; Alfred Hand, 3d (age 14),
Scranton, Pa.
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
1045
A SONG OF THE WOODS
BY ANNA TOEREY (AGE 14)
(Gold Badge)
Deep in the forest, where a mighty oak
Flings grateful shadow o'er a wandering stream,
Where tall ferns nod, and velvet mosses creep,
I love to lie and dream.
I love to watch the shy, wild wood folk pass,
To hear the oak leaves murmur in the breeze ;
And see the dancing sunlight try to pierce
Between the shading trees.
THE MARCH." BY CAROL CLARK, ACE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)
I love to hear the brook, with song and laugh,
Go chattering and gurgling on its way,
By grassy banks where wild flowers scent the air,
By lichened boulders gray.
And when the twilight comes with soothing touch,
And whispering breezes healing coolness bring,
I love to linger in the woods at dusk,
And hear the thrushes sing.
A SEASIDE ADVENTURE
BY JOSEPHINE R. CARTER (AGE I o)
(Silver Badge)
One morning I was playing with a friend in the sand
at a little place on Long Island. Not very far away,
we saw a life-boat lying on the beach ; we thought it
would be fun to play in it, so we got in, and were rock-
ing and trying to make it sail (on sand), when a big
wave came up and lifted it a little.
We were delighted with this, and rocked it some
more. Soon a bigger wave came, and this time it lifted
the boat off the sand and carried it out.
When I realized this, I screamed for help. My little
friend's mother was sitting on the beach, and when she
saw us going, she screamed too.
A life-saver happened to be fussing with a boat near
by. He caught the situation at a glance, and, dropping
everything, rushed after our boat, which was going
quickly out into deep water.
We were terribly frightened when we saw the big
waves almost on top of us, and I do not know what
would have happened if he had not caught our boat just
when he did.
He watched his chance, and when the next wave
came, rushed us with it to the shore. In a few moments
we were safe and sound on the beach.
I tell you, I was never so glad to get back to the land
in my life, and thus end my first "seaside adventure."
A SONG OF THE WOODS
BY S. V. BEN -T (AGE 13)
(Silver Badge)
There 's many a forest in the ivorld,
In many lands leaves fall ;
But Sherwood, merry Sherwood,
Is the fairest wood of all.
They say that on midsummer night,
If mortal eyes could see aright,
Or mortal ears could hear,
A wanderer on Sherwood's grass
Would see the band of Robin pass,
Still hunting of the deer.
And sometime to his ears might come
The beating of an elfin drum,
Where Puck, the tricksy sprite,
Would dance around a fairy ring,
With others of his gathering,
All on midsummer night.
Queen Guinevere would ride again
With all her glittering, courtly train,
Through Sherwood's lovely glades :
'Til dawn begins to glow near by,
And from the kingdom of the sky,
The magic darkness fades.
There 's many a forest in the world,
In many lands leaves fall ;
But Sherwood, merry Sherwood,
Is the fairest wood of all.
THE MARSDEN GHOST, A SEASIDE
ADVENTURE
BY MURIEL IRVING (AGE 15)
(Silver Badge)
Mr. Allison, his wife, and his son Will came to live at
Bradford Manor in the year eighteen hundred and
ninety-four. There was on this estate a high tower,
named for Richard Marsden, an old astronomer, to
whom the estate had previously belonged.
'ON THE MARCH.
BY CATHARINE E. LANGDON, AGE 15.
(SILVER BADGE.)
There were many wild tales told about this tower.
Some related how the ghost of a lady in white went
weeping and moaning up and down the long winding
stairs of the tower ; others, that the swish of her dresses
was heard in the wee, small hours of the night.
1046
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[Sept.,
Personally, Will Allison had no belief in ghosts, but
he determined to find out upon what this story was
based. So, taking a lantern and a light lunch, he
started out for the tower about eight o'clock one eve-
ning. From eight to ten, he heard nothing except the
wind rushing through the trees and the open window
of the tower. About ten o'clock he thought he heard
something, and then he jumped with fright as a strange
weird scream and a moan were heard. Then came a
swish and he felt something soft touch him as it glided
by. Although he was thoroughly terrified, he deter-
mined to go up the stairs to see if there was anything
to be seen.
They found many treasures there which appealed to
their boyish hearts, among which were two old guns, an
old hand-bag, and some powder.
The boys, after investigating the cabin a little more,
went back to their mother and the baby.
That night, at home, they had the bag cut open, and
lo and behold, it contained nothing more or less than
two red shirts and a red nightcap. When the boys' fa-
ther saw the contents of the bag, he said, quite sur-
prised : "Why, those are mine ; your mother gave them
to the Salvation Army a little while ago."
And all the family laughed heartily, for it was so.
A SONG OF THE WOODS
BY HELEN F. SMITH (AGE 9)
Rather than riches and castles,
I 'd have the daffodils mine ;
Rather than rubies and diamonds,
I 'd have the brook's rippling rhyme.
I love the woods more than glory,
I love the flow'rs more than fame ;
I love the trees and the meadows
More than a heroic name.
And though some people will treasure
A ruby much more than a tree,
Give me the woods and the flowers,
And give me leave to be free.
'ON THE MARCH." BY PAULL JACOB, AGE 17. (GOLD BADGE.)
Slowly climbing the stairs, waiting every few seconds
for a sound, which did not come, at last he reached the
top. Again he heard the swish and felt something
touch him. Turning his lantern toward the corner
from which the sound came, he found — a nest of baby
screech-owls.
A SEASIDE ADVENTURE
BY ALICE HINDLE (AGE 13)
The broad Atlantic washes up on a certain beach in
Massachusetts.
Down this beach, a few years ago, came a lady, a
baby, and two boys. As the four came near to the ocean,
the lady, taking the baby, sat on some shaded rocks.
"LEFT BEHIND." BY JOHN MILTON, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.
"We 're going down the beach a little ways," the old-
est boy, Donald, said.
After walking a considerable distance, the boys came
to an old wrecked ship. They quickly made their way
into its cabin, which contained three bunks.
' 'J A SEA ADVENTURE
BY DOROTHY M. HOOGS (AGE 1 5)
(Silver Badge)
In the Hawaiian Islands, almost all the natives are in
constant contact with the sea, and they are just as much
at home in the water as on the land.
Captain "Sam,"
an old and hardy
Hawaiian sea
master, was sail-
ing off the rocky
shores of Molokai
one starlit night
in the little
schooner Moi
Wahine. There
was not a sound
except for the
waves lap-
against the
Suddenly
was rammed
by the steel prow
of the lighthouse
tender Kukui, and
sunk more than
twenty miles from
land. Captain Sam
floundered about
among the wreck-
age, and then
headed toward the
island of Lanai.
Several members
of his crew were with him, but they, being Koreans,
were not so adapted to the sea as their master, and soon
became too exhausted to keep up any longer, and went
down forever. The captain struggled on, freeing him-
self of his clothes, and then struck out, bound to win in
his race with death. His long-passed youth came back
ON THE MARCH.
WAGNER, AGE 15.
BY CHRISTINE J.
(SILVER BADGE.)
I91-]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
1047
BY HELEN L. MC Cl.l'RE, AGE II.
BV VERNETTE SHERWOOD, AGE 14.
BY WILLIAM A. RAKDALL, AGE II
BY DOROTHY COATE, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.)
BY J. SHERWIN MURPHY, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)
BV MARY J. HARROUN, AGE 14.
BY MILDRED OPI'KNHEIMER, AGE [3
'ON THE MARCH.
1048
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[Sept.,
to him, and, never fearing the lurking sharks with which
he had played in childhood, kept bravely on. The little
spiny crabs clung to him as he battled along, piercing
his skin with their tiny claws. With the help of a couple
of boards he kept on undaunted, and in the gray dawn
saw Lanai looming up golden in the sunrise. With a
new zeal he went forward, the
very waters themselves buoy-
antly bearing their old friend to
safety. At noon he rose from
the surf and wearily climbed the
"LEFT BEHIND." BY MARGARET CONTY, AGE 16. (GOLD BADGE.)
rocky shore, crawling toward the familiar old cocoanut-
trees near by. After a long refreshing sleep, Captain
Sam awoke feeling none the worse for his fifteen-hour
swim at the advanced age of seventy-seven years.
A SEASIDE ADVENTURE
BY GUENN ROBERTSON (AGE 1 6)
Far away in the north of
England, off the coast of
Northumberland, lies a
little island, bleak and
dreary, called Lindisfarne.
Its population is composed
mainly of sturdy fisher-
men, and its simplicity
and primitiveness make it
most attractive.
My family and I were
spending our summer va-
cation there a few years
ago, and it was then that
we experienced a most
^^aMMHMHH exciting "seaside adven-
THE REFUGE. FROM A PHOTO- tUTC
graph by the author. To cross from the main-
land to the island it is nec-
essary to wait for the tides and to drive over the sands
in very high carts. However, we preferred walking,
and set out for a long tramp across the sands. We had
been walking for some time, when we noticed, to our
dismay, that the tide was coming in rapidly, and that
we were caught. What were we to do ?
The tide was, meanwhile, coming in still faster. It
became serious, and we shuddered at the idea of being
surrounded by water. But suddenly, as I looked around,
I saw a dark, square-looking object perched on its thin
legs. I pointed it out to my father, who immediately
recognized it to be a refuge, though rather a quaint one.
At the word "refuge" we cheered up, and walked as fast
as we could to reach it. The water rushed after us
wickedly, and seemed bent on surrounding us.
However, we arrived, and quickly clambered up into
the little box standing on its thin legs. We were just
in time, for that same moment the water rushed up and
swirled round the legs, causing the refuge
to shake visibly. But we were saved, and
after waiting many weary hours, till the
tide went out again, we returned home,
tired and hungrv.
A SONG OF THE WOODS
BY MARY CARVER WILLIAMS (AGE 1 4)
{Honor Member)
Come, Mab, of woodland fairies queen,
And sit thee down on mosses green
'Neath shading oak, in cove unseen.'
The silver brooklet now is singing,
The birds their morning calls are ringing,
And we our tales of joy are bringing.
We sing of our immortal race,
Of bold Diana in the chase,
And Orpheus' lyre of charming grace ;
Aurora, robed in purest white,
Throws wide the curtains of dull night,
And ushers in the morning light.
We think not of Eurydice,
We sing of bird and bumblebee,
And all that possess liberty ;
Phoebus, what boots it to our eyes
How fast across the turquoise skies
Thy gold-emblazoned chariot flies?
We sing until the even shades
Begin to lengthen in the glades,
And e'en night's beacon o'er us fades.
Serene delight the shadows long
In us imbue, and thousands strong
We waft above, for done our song.
'LEFT BEHIND." BY LEONORA BEMIS, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.)
1912.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
1049
A SONG OF THE WOODS
BY MARGARET TILDSLEY (AGE II)
(Silver Badge)
The twilight deepens in the wood,
The sun has set behind the hill ;
No stirring 's heard, no beast or bird
Has open mouth or chattering bill.
The evening dark has passed away,
And dawn comes with her golden hood ;
Now stirring 's heard, no beast or bird
But knows that morning 's in the wood.
A SONG OF THE WOODS
(Triolets)
BY HOWARD BENNETT (AGE 17)
(Honor Member)
The whispering leaves
Have a secret to tell.
All nature believes
The whispering leaves ;
Not a wood-creature grieves,
For they all know too well
The whispering leaves
Have a secret to tell.
The brook overheard —
The secret is sped !
'T was only a word
The brook overheard ;
Yet the wind has averred,
And the chickadee said ;
The brook overheard !
The secret is sped !
That sly little brook
Has been chuckling all day !
He 's a regular crook,
That sly little brook.
And the willow-trees look
Very grumpy, and say,
"That sly little brook
Has been chuckling all day !"
A SEASIDE ADVENTURE
'AT WORK." BY DOROTHY E. HANDSACKER, AGE 13. (GOLD BADGE.)
A SEASIDE ADVENTURE
BY ELIZABETH FINLEY (AGE 1 3)
(Gold Badge)
The seaside has always held a great attraction for m«,
and that is where I generally spend my summers. It
was on a hot July morning, last summer, that I had an
odd experience which gave me an exciting swim.
On this occasion, I lay basking on the sand after a
brisk swim. The beach was almost deserted, and on
such days, I generally had my bathing-suit on all morn-
ing, and ran in and out of the water continually. The
only bathers were a couple of children and a young
lady, but I paid no special attention to them.
I rose slowly and started toward the water. Sud-
denly one of the children, a boy, ran up to me and
cried : "Quick, quick, there 's a lady drowning out
there !" Of course I was much excited as I looked
where he pointed. Sure enough there was a gloved
hand and arm reaching far out of the water.
I never stopped to think how a woman with gloves
on could be in the water, for she was too near the
shore to have fallen out of a boat. Besides, if I had
taken time to consider it, I would have known that the
water was almost too shallow for her to drown in.
However, I did not think, and away I started oh my
heroic journey. As I swam on, for the water was too
deep for me to walk in, it struck me as rather odd that
the arm neither rose nor fell to any great extent ; but
I was too busy to think of it then.
I reached her ! I grabbed her ! Bracing myself to
be clutched with the clutch of the drowning, I was
almost thrown backward by the lightness of her. I
pulled ! and up came — a stick ! !
Realizing that I was fooled, I turned indignantly to-
ward the shore. The children and lady had vanished.
Vol. XXXIX.— 132.
BY BETTY HUMPHREYS (AGE II)
(Honor Member)
There was going to be a race. A codfish, a blackfish,
and a flounder were the swimmers. A lobster had
agreed to be the judge, and the oysters were going to watch.
The time came. They all met in a little cove by the
beach.
"On your marks !" said the lobster.
The fish got in line and waited for the signal.
"LEFT BEHIND." BY HELEN M. ROTH, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)
"One, two, three, g — "
"May I race, too?" asked a little herring, swimming
up to the racers.
"You?" said the flounder; "you 're nothing but a
herring."
"I know it." The herring looked hurt. "But can't I
race ?"
"Yes," said the lobster. "Where 's the harm ? Get into
position at the end of the line. One, two, three, go !"
1050
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[Sept.,
Off darted the fish, while the oysters cheered. On
and on they swam, till they were near the goal, then
it was all spoiled.
The herring, who was in the lead, suddenly felt her-
self being' lifted up. She tried to swim, but something
held her. Then she knew what had happened.
"Help me !" she cried to the others. "I 'm caught in
a net !" But they could do nothing.
Soon she was on a pile of dead fish, with two men
bending over her.
"Huh !" said one, "nothin' but herrin' !"
"I '11 pitch him overboard," said the other, and once
more the herring was in the water. She soon caught
up to the others, who had given her up for lost, and
were swimming slowly back to the cove. (They had
stopped racing as soon as she was caught.)
"LEFT BEHIND." BY MARJORIE BENSON, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.)
When they got there, the herring told them her ad-
venture.
"So," she said in conclusion, "if I were n't 'nothing
but a herring,' I 'd be dead now."
A SONG OF THE WOODS
BY MARGARET L. SHIELDS (AGE 1 5)
{Silver Badge)
Night in the forest!
A whisper of leaves at play,
A wind that sobs and sighs — to stray
Far from the brooding shelter of the woods.
A scud of some shy creature to its burrowed home,
A brook that, murmuring, threads its starlit way
To where a bank of drowsy daisies sway, asleep.
A hush of silence through the forest gloom,
And then — a thrill of rapture, trill of joy,
A song that soars, that flutters, dies away,
Is lost !
But hark ! in the crowded haunts of man,
To the hurrying world-wide throng,
The master's wondrous violin
Is singing the woodland song !
A SONG OF THE WOODS
BY NELLIE ADAMS (AGE 13)
{Silver Badge)
Oh what so gay, on a summer day,
When sultry and hot the hours,
As a forest scene, with its pine-trees green,
And carpet of fairy flowers?
When the zephyrs sigh in the tree limbs high,
And temper the sullen heat ;
With the leaves aloft, and the mosses soft
Spread smoothly for elfin feet ?
Oh what so rare as the forest fair
When autumn brings frosty cold ;
The pine-trees green, with a bush between
Aflame with crimson and gold?
But a winter night, when the snow is white,
Is lovelier yet, by far ;
When every flake the snow-clouds make
Is a dazzling, diamond star.
But, oh ! and it 's spring when the glad hearts sing,
And the shy white violets peep ;
When the herald's mouth calls the birds from the South,
And the wood-mice from their sleep.
And the wood folk sing, "From the fall 'til spring,
And from spring again to fall,
You may seek and roam, but the pine-trees' home
Is the loveliest spot of all."
THE ROLL OF HONOR
No. 1. A list of those whose work would have been used had space
permitted.
No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to encouragement.
PROSE, 1
Helen S. Allen
Ruth S. Abbott
Elinor P. Childs
Henrietta M. Archer
Frances W. Wright
Lois W. Kellogg
Constance Kilborn
Frances Sweeney
Margaret E. Beakes
Mary H. Wallace
Dorothy M. Rogers
Charlotte L. Adams
Madeleine Greenbaum
Anne K. Warren
Lillias Armour
Mary E. Whelan
G. R. Burrage
Margaret V. Powers
Arthur H. Nethercot
Mary van Fossen
Louise S. May
Elizabeth Howland
Muriel Ives
Rose F. Cushman
Louise Collins
Mary Dorothy Huson
Thyrza Weston
Emma Faehrmann
Mary Conover Lines
Ruth B. Brewster
Anthony Fabbri
Claire H. Roesch
Mary Daboll
Helen E. Swartz
Grace McA. King
Eleanor Brown Atkin
Genia R. Morris
Marion Smith
Emily Frankenstein
Kathleen T. Howes
William McBride
Marie H. Wilson
Vivian'E. Kistler
Ruth Bawden
"LEFT BEHIND." BY DOROTHY
HUGHES, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)
Elsie Stevens
Hester R. Hoffman
Robert Paine
Charles Samolar
Louis Ellis
Helen Gould
Edith Townsend
Alice Card
Berenice G. Hill
d'Arcy Holmes
Thelma Williams
Louis L. De Hart
Mildred Thorp
Kathryn Fagan
Lois Hopkins
Dorothy von Olker
Helen G. Rankin
Louise J. Spanagle
Joseph B. Kelly
Helen L. Eckel
Walter Halrosa
Emily M. Bennett
PROSE, 2
Roger V. Stearns
Belle Miller
Katherine Kitabjian
Albert Bayne
Ilia Williams
Edith G. McLeod
Nell Upshaw
Helen Curtis
Elizabeth Conley
Peyton Richards
Dorothy A. Fessenden
Elsie Terhune
Isabel Browning
Henrietta Shattuck
J. Frederic Wiese
Lena Turnbull
Mildred Weissner
Barbara Orrett
Edna Arnstein
Alden Chase
Ida C. Disbury
Frances D.
Pennypacker
Paulyne F. May
Mary Hall
Frederick S. Whiteside
Gerald W. Prescott
Helen A. Dority
Thurston G. Mirick
Dorothy Duggar
Frances Weil
Frederick R. Schmidt
Edith Brodek
Albert C. Kringel
Nathaniel Dorfman
Jessie V. Westfall
Edith MacGillivray
Marion Fette
Matilda Task
Janet Tremaine
Katharine Ferry
Edward B. Annable
Florence Lowden
Mary Buhl
Katherine Kelly
VERSE, 1
Harriet A. Wickwire
Bertha E. Walker
Bernice L. Kenyon
Gwendolyn Steel
Anita L. Grannis
Margery S. Amory
Gladys M. Miller
Forest Hopping
Dorothy C. Snyder
Helene M. Roesch
Katharine Balderston
Ellen Lee Hoffman
Lilly Ruperti
Ruth E. Sherburne
Marian Shaler
Marion Ellet
Ellen B. Lay
Florence W. Towle
Katherine E. Read
Flora McD. Cockrell
1912.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
1051
Josephine N. Felts
Dorothy Heirnimus
Samuel Sanderson
Lucia Barber
Thomas H. Joyce
Thelma Stillson
Helen A. Monsell
Ruth Jones
Jeanette Ridlon
Gwynne Abbott
Frances M. Ross
Katherine Palmer
Ruth MacC. Peters
Ann Hamilton
Helen S. Clift
Hope I. Stelzle
Winifred S. Stoner, Jr.
Isabel Draper
Francis C. Hanighen
Irma A. Hill
Alice P. Turner
Eleanor Mishnun
Virginia Franklin
Elizabeth Macdonald
Lydia A. Mullon
Katharine Beard
Madeline McLemont
Fannie W. Butterfield
Lillie G. Menary
Margaret M. Caskey
Winifred W. Birkett
Lucy A. Mackay
VERSE, 2
Francis A. M. Smith
Gordon K. Chalmers
Mary A. White
Priscilla C. Hand
Hazel M. Chapman
Mary Franklin
Ruth S. Thorp
Frances Carveth
Beatrice Fischer
Elizabeth Maclennan
Helen Welty
Charlotte van Pelt
Margaret Johnson
Josephine Cohn
Amanda Hoff
Lucile Shafer
Louise Cramer
Rushia Dixon
Birdie Krupp
Elise S. Haynes
Irene Charnock
DRAWINGS, i
Louise Graham
Martha P. Lincoln
Henry J. Neal
Calista P. Eliot
Jacob C. White
Welthea B. Thoday
Edward Verdier
Eleanor W. Atkinson
E. Theodore Nelson
Madeline Zeisse
Catharine M. Clarke
Martha Means
Walter K. Frame
Frances M. Patten
Horatio Rogers
Peggy Miles
Mary Bradley
Dorothy Taylor
Miriam H. Tanberg
Dorothy Deming
DRAWINGS, 2
Charles H. Grandgent,
Jr-
Gladys Miiller
Anna R. Payne
Pauline Haines
Blanche Fox
Marguerite Hicks
Margaret L. Duggar
Gladys E. Livermore
Katharine Schwab
Leonard C. Larrabee
Edith Sise
Dorothy Batchelder
Marion H. Medlar
Allan Clarkson
Frances Riker
Fred Sloan
Jacqueline Hodges
Grace C. Freese
Barrett Brown
Hortense Douglas
Katharine Thompson
Trueman F. Campbell
Betty Kennedy
Victor Child
Chrystie Douglas
Hunter Griffith
Emil Thiemann
Helen Beeman
Leona H. Carter
Edward Lynch
Carol L. Bates
Frances Eliot
Rachel Britton
Harry S peers
Margaret Grandgent
Estelle Simpson
Frances Lamb
Catherine Waid
Barbara Hoyt
Elizabeth E. Sherman
Lucile Borges
Isabel Knowlton
Lily A. Lewis
Winnifred Glassup
Elizabeth Norton
Olyve Graef
Mary T. Bradley
Edith V. Manwell
Margaret van Haagen
Mary Younglove
Lois Myers
Philip Nathanson
Ruth Evans
Alex Berger
Elizabeth Hill
Margaret Brate
Catharine H. Grant
J. Bergs
Joseph S. McKeen
PHOTOGRAPHS, i
Dickson Green
Nancy Eggers
Margaret Woodall
Genette Hemenway
Oliver Sorries
Mary K. Gensemer
Willard Vander Veer
Babette Joseph
Yvette Campbell
Elaine Leighton
Dorothy L. Griggs
Dorothy Peabody
Percival Ward well
Hugh Black, Jr.
Helen Tyler
Margaret Kew
Gordon L. Kent
Alice F. Vernon
Andrew Sutherland
Helen Stuart
Dorothy Perry
Katie Birmingham
Caroline E. Aber
Bryson Smith
PHOTOGRAPHS, 2
W. Robert Reud
Ruth F. Stiles
Joey C. Smith
Harry Jefferson
Kenneth Smith
Elsie Stuart
Robert Banks
Ruth Coggins
Margaret Richmond
Kathleen Miner
Mary I. Lancaster
Louise M. Blumenthal
PUZZLES, 1
Helen C. Wouters
Benedict Jarmulowsky
Alfred Curjel
Marjorie K. Gibbons
Winifred E. Powell
Isidore Helfand
William P. Hall, Jr.
Eugene Scott
Helen Westfall1
Sam H. Ordway, Jr.
Louise Ackerman
John B. Hyatt, Jr.
Ruth K. Gaylord
Edith P. Stickney
Wyllys P. Ames
Laura M. Clark
Elizabeth P. Robinson
George H. McDonald
Helen C. Young
Alan Loose
PUZZLES, 2
Margaret M. Laird
Frances Eaton
L. Chernoff
Meritta Frances
Katherine Pearse
Barbara Crebbin
G. Gordon Mahy
Edith Armstrong
Randolph Lewisohn
F. Earl Underwood
Dorothy Stewart
Catharine M. Weaver
ROLL OF THE CARELESS
A list of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and
could not be properly entered for the competition.
INCOMPLETE ADDRESS. Louis Cohen, Helen M. Lancaster,
Florence G. Clark, Charlotte C. Starr, Irene Herrinton, Meredith
Fitch, Margaret Brooker, Oscar Pitschman, Phoebe Harris, Lilian
Goldstein, Stella Bloch.
LATE. Beryl Margetson, Louise van B. Douglas, Meta E. Lieber,
Margaret F. Foster, Marie Piquet, Adeline A. Rotty, Joseph A. Smith,
Margaret L. Ayer, Charlotte Tougas, Louis F. Adams, Jr., Adelaide
F. Kohn, Ruth Simonds, Margaret C. Bland, Bertha Dempster, Bea-
trice H. Robinson, Robert R. Mcllwaine, Clara Leav, Arthur V. Met-
calfe.
NOT INDORSED. Saul Werber, Elizabeth Griffiss, Novart Mosi-
kian, Marie L. Faxon, Hannah Ratisher, Olivia Doane, Kenneth B.
Jaffray, Hester Sheldon, Myrell Armstrong, Elizabeth B. Dudley, Bar-
bara Kerley, Bella Pursin, Jessica B. Noble, Ethel Cox, Geo. Milne.
NO AGE. Helen Marshall, Daniel B. Benscoter, Daniel V. Thomp-
son, Jr., Hobart Goewey, Douglas Sprunt, Muriel Avery, Harry Sut-
ton, Jr., Eliot G. Hall.
WRITTEN ON BOTH SIDES OF PAPER. Irene Cerulte,
Ralph Hoagland, Jr., Hester A. Emmet, Margaret Bennett.
WRITTEN IN PENCIL. Jean Harrison.
DRAWING NOT ACCORDING TO RULES. Duane Van
Vechten.
TOO LONG. Margaret Spratt. J. Norman Kline.
TWO CONTRIBUTIONS. Marjorie M. Carroll.
PRIZE COMPETITION No. 155
The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings,
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasion-
ally, cash prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge win-
ners who shall, from time to time, again win first place.
Competition No. 155 will close September 10 (for
foreign members September 15). Prize announcements
will be made and the selected contributions published in
St. Nicholas for January.
Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, "The Awakening Year."
Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, " The Greatest Invention."
Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "Around the Curve."
Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, "Through the Window," or a Heading for
January.
Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an-
swer in full, and must be indorsed.
Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas.
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on
the first page of the " Riddle-box."
Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur-
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The
prizes in the "Wild Creature Photography" competition
shall be in four classes, as follows : Prize, Class A, a
gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold
badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge.
Prize, Class D, a silver badge. But prize-winners in this
competition (as in all the other competitions) will not receive
a second gold or silver badge. Photographs must not be
of "protected" game, as in zoological gardens or game
reservations. Contributors must state in afeiv words where
and under what circumstances the photograph was taken.
Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re-
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed
and stamped envelop of the proper size to hold the manu-
script, drawing, or photograph.
RULES
Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not,
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who
has reached the age of eighteen years may compete.
Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied,
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the
number of words should also be added. These notes must
not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itself —
if manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, on the
margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper
only. A contributor may send but one contribution a
month — not one of each kind, but one only.
Address : The St. Nicholas League,
Union Square, New York.
BOOKS AND READING
BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE
* ''J,'
FAIRIES
OLD AND NEW
•'i,.v;/:
;'<i£i.
September seems to me to be the fairy among the
months of the year. She is so crowned with gold,
so full of play and magic spells, she has no work
to do, and it is she who transforms the green
woods and gray marshes to wonderlands of fairy
fire, and brings the great pale moon back round
and full night after night into the skies. Yes,
September has a magic !
That being agreed, I am going to talk about a
number of fairy books that I have never seen be-
fore, and which you, too, may have missed, though
some of them have been enjoying themselves in
this world for quite a while. Anyhow, they are
all good, which is particularly necessary with a
fairy story, for the bad ones, like the bad fairies,
are very bad indeed, and we want nothing what-
ever to do with them.
The books I shall speak about contain stories
from all over the world, for I suppose there has
never been a language spoken that has not been
used for telling fairy tales. Whether in hot lands
or cold, among savages or the most cultivated na-
tions— why, not a moment passes in which some
one, somewhere, is not telling a fairy tale, or
listening to one, or reading one, or perhaps writ-
ing a new one. Which makes it delightfully prob-
able that we shall always have them with us,
however scarce the fairies may have made them-
selves in these prosaic and practical days.
I remember telling you, long ago, of Selma
Lagerlof's Swedish story of Little Nils and his
adventures, as he flew from place to place on the
back of a wild goose. Later on, she wrote another
book about him, called, "The Further Adventure
of Nils," which, if possible, is even better than
the first. It begins with the story of a little dog
who came near being shot, and it takes you hither
and thither over Sweden, which is a beautiful
country. Many strange and exciting things hap-
pen to Nils and his friends of the field and wood
and air ; almost do you feel the swish of the wind
in your ears and hear the wild cry of the geese as
you read the pages. Nils was certainly in luck !
But you are almost as fortunate as he if you have
his book.
To travel from a country that is sometimes
fearfully cold to another that is always warm, is
an easy matter if you chance to possess the magic
carpet of the prince in the "Arabian Nights," or,
not having that, a book of the right kind can
manage the thing excellently for you. So, hav-
ing left Nils in his white land, we will go straight
to Cuba, and see what it is that they have to tell
us there, among the oranges and hibiscus flowers.
"As Old as the Moon" is the name of the book,
and in it are the stories the Carib and Antilles
Indians told each other when the world was
younger than it is now, and before the white man
BOOKS AND READING
1053
had come to drive them out of existence. In
this little book we find out how the sun and the
moon came to Cuba, with many other interesting
things. The Indians who left these stories, to
last longer than they themselves have done, were
a gentle and poetical people, and you will love the
stories.
There are two books of Irish stories — Ireland
being an island, too, made me think of them next
— one by Seumas MacManus, "Donegal Fairy
Tales," the other by Yeats. The Irish were a
great deal fonder of fighting than the Caribs,
and the stories they tell are full of fights, fights
between giants and mortals, between good men
and men who were bad enough to deserve being
beaten. There is lots of fun in the tales, how-
ever, sly Irish wit, many a moment of amusing
trickery, and plenty of fairies and witches, spells
and transformations.
Jamaica also has her stories, stories told by the
negroes in their tiny cabins, some of which have
come all the way from Africa in the early times
when the slaves were being carried to the West
Indies as well as to our country. But they came
from a very different part of the Dark Continent,
and the stories told in Jamaica are quite different
from those we know through Uncle Remus.
They are animal stories, to be sure, but that is
their only resemblance.
Pamela Coleman Smith collected a lot of them
into a book called "Annancy Stories," Annancy
being the name of the spider, who is the hero of
almost every story. I was in Jamaica part of the
time she spent there, and once in a while I went
with her to the cabins to hear the old women tell
the tales in their strange English, which you can
hardly understand at first. They would sit cross-
legged on the floor, and sway a bit back and
forth, and croon their words. They usually had
a duppy — which is a ghost — in the stories, and
very afraid of duppies all the Jamaica blacks are,
I can tell you. But there was fun in the stories,
too, and the old women would laugh and laugh
when they got to the funny parts.
A book of English fairy tales called "Fairy
Gold," by Ernest Rhys, is one of the best I found.
The stories are told so charmingly, and are so
good themselves. Mr. Rhys has got some very
old and long-forgotten ones, which leads him to
say that "a fairy tale, like a cat, has nine lives.
It can pass into many queer shapes, and yet not
die. You may cut off its head, and drown it in
sentiment or sea-water, or tie a moral to its tail;
but it will still survive, and be found sitting safe
by the fire some winter night."
"Fairy Gold" has the best sort of stories, the
ones that begin with "Once upon a time," and
have princesses and younger sons and magic
transformations, and all the splendid things one
looks for in the real fairy story. The sweet and
the gentle and the lovely and the brave triumph
finally over all manner of wicked enchantments
or evil witches, which is as it should be, or why
should one read fairy stories?
I think you will like particularly the story of
Melilot, and of the three frog-men with their
eyes that were very, very eager, but not cruel,
and with their web-feet. Never a more lovable
child than little Melilot came to bless a story, and
one is glad when things turn out so well for her
after her troubles, and wishes one might go with
her when she goes so sweetly out of the story
with her soldier beside her.
Then there is the tale of the "Bag of Minutes."
You won't find a better in a bag of days ! You
see, you must certainly ask your parents for
"Fairy Gold" when your next birthday comes
round.
I never seem to be able to get entirely away
from Howard Pyle when I talk of good stories.
Here is "Twilight Land," which is brilliant, for
all its dim title, with tales of Oriental people and
mysterious adventures. Proud princesses and
adventurous youths in turbans do all sorts of
amazing things, helped by genie and clever old
men whom one does not suspect of being magi-
cians until things point to it too persistently.
Then there are some delightful pictures, also
made by Mr. Pyle, good, oh, quite as good as the
stories, for he knew how.
Mr. Pyle had a sister Katherine who also loves
to tell fairy stories, and there is a book by her,
called, "Where the Wind Blows," that has ten,
each from a different nation. The stories, Miss
Pyle says, are almost as old as the Wind himself.
But I think they will be new to you. Germany
and Japan and India and England and Greece
and other lands come with a story to tell. It will
be hard, when you have finished, to say which of
them all you liked best. Probably you will man-
age to get round it by speaking for the one you
read last. But if you re-read one of them again,
you '11 find yourself changing your mind, and
voting for that one.
A fairy story that takes a whole book to tell is
"The Flint Heart," by Eden Phillpotts. It is in-
terested in things that happened about five thou-
sand years ago, and Mr. Phillpotts says that if
you think times were dull then, you never made
a bigger mistake in your life. "It was the
liveliest age before history," he insists, "in fact,
no one ever had a dull moment."
Nor will you as you read the book, which be-
gins by telling about Brokotockotick, who was
1054
BOOKS AND READING
simply called Brok behind his back, and of an-
other man whose name was merely Fum. It is
Fum, however, who makes the flint heart, helped
by the Spirit of Thunder. It was a hard and
dangerous heart, and many things happen be-
cause of it. But in the end you will be glad that
it was made— and surely glad of the story that
tells its history. It all happens in Dartmoor,
England, and though the queer stone huts of the
New Stone People have disappeared, the country
remains not so unlike what it was in Fum's day,
as you may see for yourselves if you go there.
I dare say a number of you have read George
MacDonald's "At the Back of the North Wind."
I can't imagine any one missing that story; in
fact, one ought to read it more than once, as is
true of all good stories. It is impossible not to
finish it without tears in your eyes, even though
the ending is not really unhappy; but the tears
one sheds over a story do not hurt. Surely the
little hero must have been glad to get back of the
North Wind once more, though he could never
come here again. And so you close the book half
glad and half sorry, which, very likely, when the
time comes, is the way one closes the Book of
Life. And who can say but that the sorry part is
as beautiful as the rest !
Now I must speak of one more story, a new
one last year, at least to us who speak English.
For it was written by a Frenchman, Anatole
France, and translated by Mrs. John Lane into
the prettiest English, with little songs running
through it, songs that turn into music right on
the page— "Honey-Bee," it is called.
This story tells about the young Lord of
Blanchelande and his foster-sister, the exquisite
Honey-Bee of Clarides, after whom the book is
named, with whose good and beautiful mother
the little Lord George came to live when his own
mother died. The two children grew up to-
gether, and loved each other so dearly that they
never forgot each other. Not though George
was captured by the nixies who lived in the lake,
and kept a prisoner for many years in a won-
derful crystal palace, while Honey-Bee was car-
ried away by the dwarfs to the heart of the moun-
tain, and became their princess, and was loved
and wooed by their king, a gentle and kindly
dwarf with a heart of gold, besides all the trea-
sures of , the world.
Of course I am not going to tell you all that
happened, nor what it was like in the kingdom of
the dwarfs, nor in the nixies' palace. Nor how
King Loc helped George to escape, and what
followed upon that escape. For that is just what
the book tells, and tells so beautifully.
After you have read it all, you will have a new
idea of the dwarfs, the little, industrious people
who live under the earth, and of their king, the
noble Loc, who could give away so generously
what he loved best. The book is like a handful
of fragrant flowers, so sweet and fresh and lovely
it is, and I advise you to go to your book-shelf
and pull it out and read it many times.
This will do for one month. There are as
many good fairy stories as there are yellow leaves
floating in the clear September air when the wind
blows, and it is not possible to speak of them all,
any more than you can count the leaves. Some
of the latter you will bring home to press and
keep ; and so I, too, have brought home to you a
few of the stories, to treasure for all times.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER
Step Puzzle. I. i. Merle, i. Steam, i. Stare. 2. Tiled
Alibi. 4. Rebel. 5. Edile. 1. Slots. 2. Limit. 3. Omega.
Tiger. 5. Stare. II. 1. Roams. 1. Terse. 2. Eland. 3. Rapid
4. Snipe. 5. Edder. 1. Remit. 2. Elite. 3. Miner. 4. Items. 5.
Terse. III. 1. Roast. 1. Spine. 2. Panel. 3. Inked. 4. Neele
5. Elder. 1. Roars. 2. Orlop. 3. Alibi. 4. Robin. 5. Spine.
Double Acrostic. Scott. Perry. Cross-words
Canoe. 3. Other. 4. Taper. 5. Taffy.
Royal Zigzag. Cleopatra. Cross-words:
3. Queen. 4. Canoe. 5. Stamp. 6. Cloak
9. Altar.
Geographical Novel Acrostic. Primals: South Pole
row: R. Amundsen. Cross-words: 1. Sparta
6. Pindus
1 . Syrup.
1. Chest.
7. Patch.
Ottawa.
mak. 4. Tyburn. 5. Hainan
9. Epinac.
Word-Square.
Sneer.
2. Plant.
8. Crate.
Fourth
3. Uni-
Double Beheadings. Primals: Tempest, Othello. Cross-words:
1. Tr-opes. 2. En-tail. 3. Mo-hair. 4. Pr-each. 5. En-list. 6.
So-lace. 7. Tr-over.
Numerical Enigma.
"Come what come may
Time and the hour run through the roughest day."
Musical Connected Word-Squares, i. Fade. Aged.
Edda. 2. Cafe. Aged. Feed. Edda.
Deed. 4. Abed. Bede. Edda. Deaf.
Pi
3. Abed. Bade.
Dead.
Edge.
7. Odessa. 8. Lamego.
oats. 2. Oaten. 3. Atone. 4. Tense. 5.
The honeysuckle by the porch is sweet,
And noisy bees wing on from bloom to bloom,
Full loath to leave for yonder windless heat,
The shade and coolness of the fragrant gloom.
Primal Acrostic and Zigzag. Sir Galahad, King Arthur. Cross-
words: 1. Skulk. 2. Ionic. 3. Rosin. 4. Gauge. 5. Alpha. 6.
Learn. 7. Avert. 8. Hythe. 9. Adieu. 10. Dowry.
To our Puzzlers: Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 10th of each month, and should be ad-
dressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth Street, New York City.
Answers to all the Puzzles in the June Number were received before June 10 from Alfred Hand, 3d — "Midwood" — Doris Clare
and Jean Frances — Claire A. Hepner — R. Kenneth Everson — "Marcapan" — George Locke Howe — Wm. T. Fickinger — Judith Ames
M arsland.
Answers to Puzzles in the June Number were received before June 10 from Gavin Watson, 7 — Dorothy Belle Goldsmith, 7 — Catherine
Gordon Ames, 7 — Theodore H. Ames, 7 — Geo. D. Kahlo, Jr., 7 — Harmon B., James O, Glen T. Vedder, 7 — Gertrude P. English, 6 — Margaret
M. Benney, 6 — "Dixie Slope," 6 — Eva Garson, 6 — Madeleine and Helen Marshall, 5 — Edward C. Heymann, 5 — Henry Seligsohn, 5 — Gjems
Fraser, 5 — Nelson K. Wilde, 5 — Helen Bradley, 4 — Frances Eaton, 4 — Ruth Champion, 4 — Alice and Martha Behrendt, 4 — John D. Cooper, 3
— Elizabeth Jones, 3 — Elizabeth Bryant, 3 — Mitchell V. Charnley, Jr., 3 — No name, 3 — Donald W. Atwater, 3 — Minnie Beatrice and Mar-
garetta Daugherty, 3 — Alan C. Dunn, 3 — Eleanor O'Leary, 3 — Alice Berliner, 3 — Marion Pendleton, 3 — Fred Allen Strand, 3 — Edward James
Cooper, 2 — Margaret Andrus, 2 — Jessica B. Noble, 2 — Elizabeth A. Kearny, 2 — Grace Boynton, 2 — Edith Anna Lukens, 2 — Virginia Bullard, 2
— Adele Mowton, 2 — Catherine F. Tantz, 2 — Mildred Miller, 2 — Eleanor F. Tobin, 2 — Eleanor Gilchrist, 2 — Louise Copley, 2 — Margaret
Klindworth, 2 — Julia T. Buckland, 2 — Madge McCord, 2.
Answers to one Puzzle were received from M. A. P.— M. L.— E. M. P.— R. W. S.— L. A.— E. S.— E. H.— K. K. S.— D. H.— N. S. C—
E. B.— S. W.— R. H.— F. M. L.— A. O.— M. P. S— R. W. H.— D. O. W.— I. A.— K. E. G— D. T.— A. H.— E. S.— K. L.— M. H.-M. D.—
A. G.— E. C— G. A. M.— M. P.— G. H. C— M. B.— R. C.-D. N.— H. M. A.— A. L. O.— W. M.— C. S.-R. H. F — R. L. T.— G. B.— G. P.
— H. C— M. G.— E. H. L.— S. M. I.— J. P. M.— L. B.— R. T. B.— D. M.— O. C— M. F.— L. C. B.— R. E— I. B. F— M. B.— H. W.— R. W.
—A. O. J., Jr.— E. R.— K. F— P. and M— H. D.— E. R. R.
NOVEL DOUBLE DIAGONAL
Night." 7. A character in "Taming of the Shrew."
A character in "Othello." 9. The title of a play.
Isidore helfand (age 1 3), League Member.
Cross-words: i. Sarcasm. 2. Very small particles.
Blaze. 4. Tasteless from age. 5. Idiotic.
From 1 to 2, a beautiful country ; from 3 to 4, v
most famous city.
benedict jormulowsky (age 1 3), League Member.
SHAKSPEREAN DIAGONAL
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below
another, the diagonal (beginning with the upper left-
hand letter and ending with the lower right-hand let-
ter) will spell the name of a character in "Twelfth
Night."
Cross-words : 1. A character in "Measure for Meas-
ure." 2. A name assumed by Portia. 3. A courtier in
"Hamlet." 4. A character in "Antony and Cleopatra."
5. A character in "Pericles." 6. A character in "Twelfth
ANAGRAM
A famous man of Queen Elizabeth's time.
A HEART GREW ILL.
HISTORICAL DIAGONAL
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
Cross-words : 1. The surname of an American general
who commanded the forces against Burgoyne until suc-
ceeded by Gates. 2. The surname of a president of the
United States. 3. One of the thirteen original colonies.
4. An English nobleman for whom one of the original
colonies was named. 5. The scene of a famous sur-
render in 1 781. 6. An American general under whom
Washington fought. 7. One of the principal naval bat-
tles of the Spanish-American War. 8. A famous queen
of England.
The diagonal, from the upper left-hand letter to the
lower right-hand letter, will spell the name of a very
famous Revolutionary battle.
mary berger (age 13).
1056
THE RIDDLE-BOX
I1LIJSTKATED NUMERICAL ENIGMA
In this enigma the words are pictured instead of de-
scribed. The answer, consisting of thirty-one letters, is
a phrase first used by a famous American commander.
LETTER PUZZLE
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
One letter is suggested by each line.
My first is a body of water blue,
My second makes men mean to you ;
My third is the end of time and space,
My fourth increases each thing and place ;
My fifth and second are alike to see,
My sixth is a part of the verb*to be."
My whole is a Roman ruler whose name
As soldier and statesman won great fame.
MARGARET M. DOOLEY (age l6).
NOVEL ACROSTIC
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below
another, the primals and another row of letters will
each spell the name of a famous composer.
Cross-words: i. Fealty. 2. To awaken. 3. A nose.
4. A cloth dealer. 5. What no one likes to make. 6.
Insignificant. h. r. luce (age 14), League Member.
CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
1. Upper Left-hand Square: i. A swamp. 2. A port
of Peru. 3. Severity. 4. To chide. 5. Robust.
II. Upper Right-hand Square: i. A small heron.
2. Rank. 3. Plunder. 4. Prepares for publication. 5.
Rigid.
III. Central Square: i. A substance used in making
bread. 2. A masculine name. 3. A variety of quartz.
4. The evil one. 5. Tendency.
IV. Lower Left-hand Square: i. Established cus-
tom. 2. Flavor. 3. A salt of soda. 4. A statue. 5.
Assessed.
V. Lower Right-hand Square : 1.. A play. 2. A
noisy feast. 3. To turn aside. 4. To swallow up. 5.
To vafy. henry wilson (age 13).
CONNECTED STARS
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
Cross-words : 1. In compass. 2. A negative. 3. An
important island of Europe. 4. A convent. 5. A colorr
6. A royal residence. 7. To place securely. 8. To de-
part. 9. In compass. 10. Thus. 11. A moral fable.
12. A beautiful city of Austria. 13. The river of for-
getfulness. 14. To disfigure. 15. To invigorate. 16.
To exist. 17. In compass.
From 1 to 2, upright; from 3 to 4, great fear; from
5 to 6, to toss ; from 7 to 8, to go in.
Central stars reading downward (nine letters), a
famous queen of long ago.
HELENA A. IRVINE (age 12).
DOUBLE ACROSTIC
My primals spell a city, and my finals the State in
which it is located.
Cross-words (of equal length) : I. A vegetable. 2.
To coax. 3. A defect. 4. To skin. 5. Likewise. 6. An
animal's den. 7. A city of West Siberia.
Winifred E. powell (age 1 2), League Member.
THE DE V1NNE PRESS, NEW YORK.
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
- >. t Mvj — i
Natural
Flesh Tints
^HERE is no im-
proving on nature.
When art essays to de-
\[ pict beauty, the nearer
to nature's own color-
fH ing it gets with its flesh
I tints, the more success-
ful is the realization.
This shows that only
natural beauty is really
effective. This was the
prompting idea in the
invention of
Pears' Soap
a hundred and twenty years ago. It is a soap composed
wholly of such pure emollient and detergent ingredients
as the skin naturally and freely responds to.
Pears never spoils the natural flesh tints. It improves
them, by keeping the skin soft, fine and pure. Its influence is
so kind, beneficial and refining that its use means the preserva-
tion of the dainty pink and white of a perfect complexion from
infancy to old age. Pears is in accord with nature first and last.
The skin is kept soft and the complexion
beautiful by using Pears which maintains the
soft refined daintiness which is nature's alone.
m
"All rights secured"
OF JiLL SCENTED SO&PS PEMRS' OTTO OF HOSE IS THE BEST
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
A Signed-in-Ink Guarantee
Buy six pairs of Holeproof Hose of your dealer. He'll give you a signed-in-ihk guarantee
that the six pairs will wear six full months without holes. They will wear longer probably.
Millions of pairs of "Holeproof" do. If they wear out in less than six months we
replace them. The six pairs of cotton and mercerized cotton " Holeproof " will cost you
only $1.50 — or up to $3 — according to the finish you want. We make " Holeproof" in
gauze silk for men, costing $2 for three pairs guaranteed three months, and $3 for
three pairs for women, guaranteed three months. But all Holeproof Hose are soft, stylish
and comfortable, no matter what grade you prefer.
Only the Finest Yarn Fit for "Holeproof"
All of our cotton hose are made from the finest yarn. Egyptian and Sea Island cotton,
costing an average of seventy cents a pound — the average top market price for cotton yarn.
We use pure silk for the silk hose. No 2^//guaranteed cotton hose contain better yarn, for
better cannot be bought by any maker. We could buy cotton yarn
for as low as thirty cents a pound, but the hose would be cumbersome,
heavy and coarse, while " Holeproof " are light in weight, soft and
attractive.
eproofnosieru
FOR MEN WOMEN* AND CHILDREN^
Since "Holeproof" came, there is no more need for the darning basket.
It is no longer necessary to sacrifice wear and comfort to get style and fit.
For in " Holeproof" is found the remarkable combination of unusual
wearing qualities, together with perfect style and fit. And yet you pay no
more for " Holeproof " than for ordinary hose, which lack the guarantee
and other " Holeproof " features.
" Holeproof " the Original Guaranteed Hosiery
Reg. U.S.
Pat. Office. 1906
"Holeproof" is the original guaranteed hosiery. Imitators have
attempted to ride into public favor upon the reputation that " H°lePr0°f "
has made. They came with a guarantee very similar to ours — they could
reproduce that — but they could not reproduce "Holeproof" quality,
" Holeproof" style and " Holeproof " fit.
So we urge you to be careful. Don't ask merely for guaranteed
hosiery. Insist upon genuine "Holeproof." You'll find our trade-
mark and the signature Carl Freschl on genuine "Holeproof."
Sold in Your Town
The genuine is sold in your town. We'll tell you the
dealers' names on request or ship direct where we have
no dealer, charges prepaid on receipt of remittance.
Write for free book, "How to Slake Your Feet Happy.*'
HOLEPROOF HOSIERY CO.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Holeproof Hosiery Co. of Canada, Ltd., London, Canada
Distributors for Canada
Tampico News Co., S. A., City of Mexico, Agents for Mexican Republic
GfaTfoufc //ode, eflnAutoecC*
(316)
10
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
A Business Girl
Needs a clear brain, steady nerves
and endurance.
cells
lis
Each day thinkers use up brain
Each day active workers destroy
cells in the nerve centres.
This waste must be replaced
daily by proper food. Otherwise nerv-
ous prostration and brain-fag result.
Nature cannot rebuild gray matter
in nerve centres and brain without
Phosphate of Potash — not from the
drug shop, but as grown in the field
grains.
Phosphate of Potash is more than half the mineral salts in
Grape-Nuts
— a food made from choice wheat and barley.
It is perfectly cooked — easily digested — has fine flavour and
specially adapted for brain workers.
You can replace each day the worn-out parts of yesterday.
The world pays well for efficiency.
ii
There's a Reason" for Grape-Nuts
Postum Cereal Company, Limited
Battle Creek, Mich., U. S. A.
Canadian Postum Cereal Co., Ltd.
Windsor, Ontario, Canada
II
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
SUPPOSE you had to make a personal call
to secure every customer for your goods.
Would you solicit everyone you met, or
could approach regardless of their intelligence,
influence and purchasing power?
Or would you devote your time and attention
to those who were evidently able to appreciate
and to purchase your product; those whose
example would be most effective, whose
patronage once secured, could not be easily
diverted ?
If intelligence, influence and purchasing power
are the qualities most desirable in your pros-
pective customers look to
THE CENTURY
ST. NICHOLAS
consider their
Illustrations Letterpress
Artists Authors
Advertisements Advertisers
These magazines have for nearly half a cen-
tury enjoyed the patronage of the best class
of people and the best class of advertisers.
12
57'. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
"I SEE HOW, PAPA, IT ISN'T A BIT HARD."
Of course it's easy, the littlest child can take good pictures
wiha BROWNIE
Catalogue of Brownies and Kodaks free at your dealers or by mail.
EASTMAN KODAK CO., Rochester, N. Y., The Kodak City.
13
St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. 129.
Time to hand in answers is up September 10. Prize-winners announced in November number.
One of the most amusing competitions we have
ever had in this department called upon the
competitors to cut out portions from pictorial
advertisements that have appeared in maga-
zines and then to paste them on a piece of
paper so as to make an amusing or striking
combination. When cleverly done this gives
rise to most astonishing results. The figures
from different advertisements can be so brought
together as to be irre-
sistibly funny. The
words to be put under
the made-up picture
may also be cut from
advertisements, or you
may write new words to
suit yourself.
But it is required
that you shall tell where
each bit of a picture is
taken from, so that the
Judges may look it up,
if they choose, and see
that it is from some
magazine advertise-
ment.
Each competitor may
submit three pictures
or fewer, but not more.
So pick out the best
only, and send them in.
When more than one sheet of paper is used,
they should be fastened together. We hope
that there may be some that we shall feel
bound to print when awarding the prizes.
You may, as usual, have help from your elders
in this competition and need not add any in-
dorsement of originality.
Remember to tell where each cutting comes
from. A good way to do this is to put a small
number on each, and then to write on the back
of your paper a list of the sources of each
patchwork picture. It is also well not to roll
or fold your competition paper, as the paste
(See also
YOU may just as
well have the best
dries in that shape and then the figures fall off
when spread out flat.
Below is a Patchwork picture, not a very
good one, just to show you what is meant.
The pieces of which it is made are taken from
the following :
No. 1. Baker's Cocoa, August St. Nicholas.
No. 2. Peter's Chocolate, " "
No. 3. Pond's Extract, " "
No. 4. Paris Garters,
August Century.
You need not, of
course, confine yourself
to Century and St.
Nicholas.
Here follow the list
of prizes and the rules :
One First Prize, $5.00
to the one who submits
the cleverest picture.
Two Second Prizes,
$3.00 each to those who
submit the next cleverest
pictures.
Three Third Prizes,
$2.00 each to those who
submit the next cleverest
pictures.
Ten Fourth Prizes,
$1.00 each to those who
submit the next cleverest
pictures.
m
Here are the rules
and regulations :
1. This competition is open freely to all who
may desire to compete, without charge or consid-
eration of any kind. Prospective contestants need
not be subscribers for St. Nicholas in order to com-
pete for the prizes offered.
2. In the upper left-hand corner of your paper
give name, age, address, and the number of this
competition (129).
3. Submit answers by September 10, 1912.
Use ink. Do not inclose stamps.
4. Do not inclose requests for League badges
or circulars. Write separately for these if you
wish them, addressing St. Nicholas League.
5. Be sure to comply with these conditions if
you wish to win prizes.
6. Address answers : Advertising Competition
No. 129, St. Nicholas League, Union Square,
New York.
page 16.)
14
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
., ■■■ i
You never see your own teeth
Did you ever realize that you see only their
reflection in the mirror?
But others do see your teeth every time you
talk, smile or laugh and they know whether
or not you keep them clean.
For clean, sound, good-looking teeth use
COLGATE'S
RIBBON DENTAL CREAM
It has no "druggy" taste but a delicious flavor that
makes its twice-a-day use a pleasure.
Ribbon Cream has an antiseptic action which checks
the growth of decay germs.
It has a polishing action which whitens your teeth
without harmful "grit" to scratch the enamel.
Ask mother to get you a tube— or send us 2c in stamps for a generous
trialtube. Ask for "The Jungle Pow Wow" too, for your little brother
or sister — a funny animalrhyme book with colored pictures. It's free.
COLGATE & CO., Dept. 60, 199 Fulton St.,NewYork
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
Report on Advertising Competition No. 127
The Judges offer their sincerest sym-
pathy to those boys and girls who did
not compete in Competition No. 127.
Quite a number of answers were re-
ceived, but a great many of our readers
missed a splendid opportunity to spend
some of those long summer days in a
very enjoyable and instructive manner.
Last month we took a trip around
the world. We saw the rubber planta-
tions of the Amazon ; went gliding over
the waters of the Far East in a queer
sampan; called upon the enterprising
people of far-off Australia; stopped at
the Dresden Gallery long enough to
look at the famous painting by Liotard
of the Viennese chocolate girl —Annette
Beldauf; and in our own country spent
a few interesting hours at the mighty
falls of Niagara and wonderful Yellow-
stone- Park. We even traveled far,
far back over the centuries that have
gone since the wonderful hanging-
gardens of ancient Babylon blossomed
in all their Oriental luxuriance, and the
myriad human lives perished in the
building of the mighty Pyramids of the
Pharaohs. In later times we traveled
with Ponce de Leon on a beautiful
Easter Sunday through balmy Florida
in search of that marvelous Fountain
of Youth.
We also delved a little into literature,
and noted Amy March's famous remark
about "taking time by the fetlock,"
in Louisa Alcott's immortal "Little
Women." But, best of all, we used
our brains, and many interesting
answers were given to the question
regarding the seven wonders of the
modern world, and that referring to
the phrasing of the Dioxogen adver-
tisement. On the whole, we believe
it was a most enjoyable competition
for both you and the Judges. Most
of the papers were interesting and
again confirmed our belief that the
St. Nicholas boys and girls are the
brightest, most wide-awake youngsters
in the world.
Reading advertisements attentively,
thinking about them and their claims,
investigating carefully all the topics
suggested, is sure to result in a broader,
general knowledge and make you a
more interesting and more cultured
person.
The Judges wish especially to com-
mend the following named prize-win-
ners and honor-takers for the excel-
lency of their contributions:
One First Prize, $5.00:
Helen H. Blish, age 13, Washington.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each:
HildegardDiechmann,age 16, New York City.
Eleanor Steward Cooper, age 1 7, Pa.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each :
Mildred Otis, age 16, Mass.
Ruth Williams, age 16, Pa.
Edwin Carter Adams, age 1 5, Syria.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each :
Helen Boyce, age 14, Minn.
Helen J. Barker, age 13, Mass.
Frances C. Hamlet, age 19, Maine.
Lois Fitz Gerald, age 18, N. J.
Winifred E. Bowring, age 13, Cal.
Gladys C. Mead, age 1 7, Colorado.
Sophie Euston Woods, age 15, Mo.
Frances Dana Crane, age n, Iowa.
Ophelia Davidson, age 13, Wash., D. C.
Agnes McGough, age 1 5, Ohio.
ROLL OF HONOR
Agnes Robbins, age 16, Iowa.
Jean Bone, age 12, Pa.
Bernice E. Gurney, Mo.
Dorothy Prescott, age 1 1, Mass.
Dorothy Thompson, age 14, Pa.
Edith Silver, age 1 5, Indiana.
Nirna E. Mead, age 14, Colorado.
Edgar Gibbs, age 14, New York City.
Helen Brainard, age 14, Mo.
Ellen C. Gary, age 16^, Illinois.
Ruth Vaughan Keeley, age 13, N. J.
Marjorie S. Griffith, age 14, N. J.
Thelma Fay, age 14, Oregon,
(See also page 14.)
16
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
*z*s*
CORN STARCH
Standard since 1848
Delicious Home-made Pies with Perfect Crust
and Tempting Filling.
To make light, flaky and delicate crust use part Kings-
ford's Corn Starch instead of all flour. Kingsford's
insures a fine pie crust — dry and tender even in juicy
fruit pies. In preparing the filling or custard use
Kingsford's wherever your recipe calls for corn
starch. In fact for all cooking pur-
poses, Kingsford's is the corn
starch to use in order to get the
results you desire. It is the per-
fect corn starch — refined with ex-
treme care — -absolutely pure. Don't
take chances with inferior substitutes.
on it.
Send your name on a post card for Cook Book
— and gives 168 recipes for all kinds of dishes.
Kingsford's costs
'D" that tells all about making pies
KINGSFORD & SON
National Starch Co., Suc'rs Oswego, N. Y.
Are You Sure that Your Laundress Uses
clean Starch? Of course the clothes are
thoroughly washed — but it takes the pure
natural lump
to give results the careful woman wants —
clear white, crisp clothes — the finish that de-
lights the eye of every experienced housewife.
Every care is taken to make Kingsford's per-
fect beyond question. See that the laundress
uses it and not one of the cheap starches con-
taining impurities that spot or stain and spoil
the good of the washing so far as looks go.
Sold in i lb., j lb. and 6 lb. boxes.
T. KINGSFORD & SON
National Starch Co., Suc'rs
Oswego, N. Y.
17
SSSESSSS3SSSSSS=SS=SSSSiSSSSS2S222S22323^2S^S22
ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE
A VENETIAN STAMP
IF ever there were a place which appealed strongly
to the universal imagination, it is Venice. What
could be more fascinating than to dream of a city
where the streets are of water,
where the street-cars are boats
or gondolas? And now, after
having charmed the imagination
of all for so many centuries, the
Queen of the Adriatic sends an
appeal to stamp collectors in
the issue of two stamps in cele-
bration of the rebuilding of the
Campanile. The center of at-
traction in Venice is the Square
of St. Mark, or San Marco.
Here stand many of the most
interesting historical structures,
and here stood the famous Cam-
panile, or bell-tower. "Cam-
pana," the Italian word for bell, gave the name to
all of these bell-towers which were once very com-
mon throughout Italy. The bells in these towers rang
not only for religious services, but to summon the
people to arms to resist an invader. In the maritime
provinces, doubtless, they served also as guides to the
sailors, possibly as primitive lighthouses at night.
Of the many campanili which once existed, but few
remain to-day. Of these perhaps the Campanile of
San Marco is the most famous. It was begun by the
Doge Morosini in the year 902, and was built of old
Roman brick brought from the ruined city of Alti-
num. The original structure was altered many times,
but finally reached an altitude of about 336 feet. At
the top was a large, gilded angel. Originally this
figure was posed so carefully as to move with the
wind like a weather vane. On July 14, 1902, masons,
engaged in work upon the tower, noticed bits of
plaster falling. The alarm was immediately given,
and all fled to a place of safety. At 10:40 a.m. the
structure collapsed and fell, but fortunately no one
was injured. Spectators say that the angel at the
top seemed to spread its wings and slowly settle
down into the clouds of rising dust. Certainly the
statue was uninjured by its fall. Steps were soon
taken for the rebuilding of the tower, which, after
ten years, is now completed and dedicated. Among
the various ways of commemorating the event was
the issuance of two stamps — a five and fifteen cen-
tesimi. We illustrate the stamp showing the new
tower. The round things in the foreground repre-
sent the domes of the Cathedral, over which towers
the pride of Venice — the new Campanile.
ANSWERS TO QUERIES
fTf'pHE Editor of the Stamp Page has received
jl X several queries from "C. J.," of West Somer-
ville. To him and other readers of this page we
would say that in publishing a magazine such as the
St. Nicholas, it is necessary to have all manuscript
in hand some weeks in advance of the date of issue.
This means rather a long wait for an answer. If
you will send a self-addressed stamped envelop, a
reply will reach you sooner than through these
columns. And again queries are not always of
sufficient general interest to command space in the
Stamp Page. If There is a value over face for the
three-cent stamp of the issue of 1861. How much
this may be depends somewhat upon the condition
and centering of the stamps, and somewhat upon
their shade or color. You can procure from any
of our advertisers a copy of the "Standard Cata-
logue," which will give you quotations on nearly
every stamp issued. No collector can well afford to
be without a copy of this book. Not only does it
give prices, but it illustrates all foreign stamps.
<| United States envelops of the 1861 issue vary
materially in the color of the paper. They are usu-
ally collected as white and buff, but some, if not all,
values may be found in a paper distinctly amber, as
well as buff, both light and dark. Printed stamp
albums have spaces for envelop stamps in a "cut
square" condition only. If you collect them in this
way, cut them so that the margins are large enough
to completely fill the album space. It is better, how-
ever, if you have the entire envelop, not to cut it at
all, as some sizes of envelops are very rare. Col-
lectors of "entire" envelops are interested not only
in the color of paper, but also in the water-mark, in
the size of the envelop, and in the shape of what is
technically called the "knife." If you examine a
few envelops you will see that while they may look
very much alike in the front, yet the size and shape
of the four folds on the back vary very materially.
The flap itself is sometimes narrow, sometimes deep,
and moreover there is a wide variety in the curve of
the flap. These envelops are closed according to
the shape of the knife which in the process of manu-
facture cuts them from the large sheets of paper.
<][ A water-mark is a design or series of letters, or
both, which is introduced into the texture of the
paper while it is being manufactured. Hold almost
any sheet of note-paper to the light, and what is
known as the water-mark will appear plainly visible.
Manufacturers of paper use it to distinguish various
grades, as well as to advertise their own make. It
is introduced into the paper used in printing stamps
as a help to prevent forgery or counterfeiting. If
the water-mark cannot readily be seen by holding
the stamp to the light, place the stamp face down-
ward upon some black metal, like a sheet of tintype
metal, and pour on it a few drops of benzine. Or
one can get from any of our advertisers a benzine
cup especially prepared for the purpose. The ben-
zine will not injure an unused stamp nor dissolve
the gum, while a canceled stamp is oftener cleaner
and brighter for a benzine bath. <][ The gage or
size of perforation is not found by counting the holes
around the edges of a stamp. All stamps are not of
the same size, and so it is agreed that the gage shall
be the number of holes or perforations that appear
in a space of 20 millimeters. All dealers use what
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&
Z22a2222Za22222222Z2aaag3gg2S2a&ggg2223y^^
I
18
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lllllllllllllllllllilllllllllllltllllllllllllllllllll limiMMIMMMtlllMllilillltim Ill Ill
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THE CENTURY GO. uSsy%akre
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Ifilil iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiniiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiii niiiiiiiniiiiiiKiiiiiiniiiuiJiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiii
22
[The entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission.)
CONTENTS OF ST. NICHOLAS FOR OCTOBER, 1912.
Frontispiece. The Amateur of Painting. From a picture by Meissonier. Page
Peace Payson's Motto. Story Elizabeth Price 1059
Illustrated by C. M. Relyea'.
The Sky. Verse f. Laura Spencer Portor 1065
Adrift on the Amazon. Story Dewey Austin Cobb 1066
Illustrated by George A. King
"Morning," "Noon," and "Night." Pictures. Painted by Francis
Day 1071
Jhe Lucky Sixpence. Serial Story. (Conclusion.) ^T^lrZrSe^i1075
Illustrated by Arthur Becher. ' Alaen A™nur limpe )
The King's Vacation. Story Alfred Hayes 1085
Illustrated by C. T Hill.
The Breakfast Party. Picture. From a painting by Charles C. Curran 1089
Famous Pictures. (Sixth Paper. ) Charles L. Barstow 1090
Illustrations fromypaintings by Meissonier.
The Annual Moonlight Hop in Beetleburg. Picture. Drawn by
Harrison Cady 1096
"Play Ball ! " Verse | Arthur Chamberlain 1097
Illustration by E. W. Kemble.
Playing the Game. (Base-ball Series.) (Conclusion.) C. H. Claudy 1097
Illustrated from a photograph and with diagrams, etc.
The Unsuspected Talent. ("Ballads of the Be-Ba"-Boes.") Verse. . D. K. Stevens 1106
Illustrated by Katharine M. Daland.
An Evening at the Wireless Station. Sketch Francis Arnold Collins 1110
Illustrated by Otto Rebele, George Varian, and from photographs.
Making a Living. (" Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects.") George Lawrence Parker. . . . 1115
Jingles C F. Lester 1116
Illustrated by the Author.
The Tale of the Tailless Cat. Verse Pauline Frances Camp 1117
The Townsend Twins — Camp Directors. Serial Story. (Conclusion.). Warren L. Eldred 1117
Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
Mary Sunshine. Story Marjorle Louise mills 1124
Illustrated by E. C. Caswell.
Nature and Science for Young Folks 1129
Illustrated.
For Very Little Folk :
The Wolf and the Little Lamb. Story Venle van Blarcom 1136
Illustrated by George A. King.
St. Nicholas League. With Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems,
Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles 1140
Illustrated.
Books and Reading Hlldegarde Hawthorne 1148
The Letter-Box 1150
The Riddle-Box 1151
St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 20
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DONALD SCOTT, Treasurer. ^
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
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Now Some Great News IFc
THE LAND OF MYSTERY
Long Story of an American Boys Daring
Exploit in Egypt, and its surprising result
Playing Chess by Wireless
Boys Who Will Be Great Rajas
Shetland Ponies As Playmates
A New Play for Thanksgiving
IThese Treats Commence!
IT These boys and girls have hurried up to see what is on the St. Nicholas Bulletin. Presently they will go awl
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
wsFor Every Boy and Girl
BEATRICE TRAVERS
Continues her Adventurous Career in a
Splendid Sequel to "The Lucky Sixpence"
Inspiring Stories of Great Men
The Brownies Are Coming Back
Fine Competitions in the League
Fun for the Little Folk
ice in The November Number
>t. Nicholas in 1912 is a better comrade than ever for boys and girls of all ages. Beside the splendid
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Three dollars a year. The Century Co., Union Square, New York.
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
St. Nicholas Pet Department
to all those interested in pets.
Announcements of reliable advertisers only are ac-
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Address "PET DEPARTMENT," St. Nicholas. Union Square, New York.
WHITE SCOTCH COLLIES
A Nut Brown Maiden with a White Collie or a Tan Colored Boy with a White
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Collies are intelligent and sympathetic companions for adults; beautiful, graceful, and
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Keep
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BELLE MEADE FARM
Dept. 9 Markham, Va.
Beautiful, affectionate Irish Set-
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Established 1S75
PETS
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Send for Catalogue " R "
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An Airedale
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Puppies and Grown Dogs for sale.
KENWYN KENNELS (Registered)
Point Pleasant, New Jersey
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CT. NICHOLAS appeals to the spirit of perpetual youth in fa-
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In fact, ST. NICHOLAS is always one of the family. Wise adver-
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
N view of the fact that there are
on the market at the present
time many cocoa and chocolate
preparations of inferior quality,
some of them put up in imitation
of our brands, consumers should
be sure that they get the genu-
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mark on the packages.
The high quality of Baker's
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Reg. U. S. Pat. Office
Handsomely illustrated booklet of Choice Recipes sent free
alter Baker £ To. Lt37
stablished 1760.
-■■■■ . ^tMHafcai
Dorchester Mass.
■■ ■ " "^'THiffilrifii iinr-iir - -•
133-134-
THE AMATEUR OF PAINTING.
FROM THE PICTURE BY MEISSONIER.
(see page 1090.)
ST. NICHOLAS
Vol. XXXIX
OCTOBER, 1912
No. 12
N.
PEACE PAYSON'S MOTTO
BY ELIZABETH PRICE
"Where is everybody, anyhow ?" demanded "According to history, yes. I never met the
Lucia, peeping in at a door which stood in- gentleman, so I can't speak from experience."
vitingly ajar. "It 's Peace, Lucia. We 're all so proud of her,
"Here !" was the prompt reply. "Come right we are half crazy. There was n't a minute to
in, bridesmaid, and help yourself to a needle and spare after she knew what Herr Richter wanted
thread." her to do, so we all pitched in to help. Grace is
"I 've been wandering over the entire dormitory modiste-in-chief, and we are all aides-of-the-staff.
since I arrived, looking at empty rooms and rat- Is n't it going to be pretty? Only look at that
tling locked doors. What 's going on? Party front breadth— could you tell it had n't been de-
gowns or new curtains?" and Lucia eyed the yards signed by Paquin himself, or herself, as the case
of frills inquisitively.
"The very idea ! Curtains !" Grace tossed a
filmy sleeve at the newTcomer. "Gaze upon the
quality of that material, then insult it if you
dare ! Here 's a thimble— baste that seam, will
you?"
"We 're awfully glad to see you back, Lu. Did
you get your cousin safely married?" Madge
Greyson chimed in.
may be?"
"Peace's gown. Everybody proud. So much I
have gathered. A few more items would n't
come amiss. Proud of what, for instance?"
Lucia sewed industriously as she made her in-
quiry.
"One moment, Mabel ! She '11 never under-
stand your harebrained explanation. Hand me
the scissors, Sylvia— the smallest ones." Grace
"Quite safely, thank you, and launched on her snipped an armhole carefully before she went on.
honeymoon tour. Yes, I did bring some wedding- "It 's the students' recitals, Lu. You know all
cake. No, I did n't get the bride's bouquet, of Herr Richter's pupils have been preparing for
That 's the last question I 'm going to answer till these great events since school opened last fall,
this excitement is explained," and Lucia assumed The first one is to be given by the Young Ladies'
a determined air as she reached for the thread.
"You need n't insist. Can't you see we 're
dying to tell you ? Gather this ruffle, Mabel, and,
Sylvia, turn that hem. It 's a gown, Lu, for our
feminine Paganini. I do mean Paganini, don't I,
Lora? He did play the violin, did n't he?"
Orchestra, and the way they have fiddled and
twanged the past week was enough to drive a
mere book-worm demented. The music-room is
filled with woeful sounds at all hours of the day
and night, and, incidentally, my boudoir is di-
rectly over it. You can imagine my sufferings."
Copyright, 1912, by The Century Co. All rights reserved.
1059
1060
PEACE PAYSON'S MOTTO
"Glad I 've been away. If there 's anything
heartrending, it is amateur violin playing!" Lucia
spoke with emphasis, and Grace raised a warning
finger.
" 'Sh ! Peace is likely to come in any minute,
and she must n't hear such treason expressed by
this crowd. Truly, Lu, it 's an honor, all right."
"Undoubtedly. Of what does it consist?"
"Let me tell," said Lora. "Grace is as far from
the main issue as Mabel was. Herr Richter has
arranged Handel's 'Largo' for this occasion, to be
played by six of his best violinists, a professional
harpist, and the big, three-cornered piano. Every-
body says it 's the grandest thing this college has
ever perpetrated, and the students are simply
daft over it."
Lucia laughed. "Most of this I knew, my love.
You forget that I have only been away a week.
Now proceed to the part of the tale I have n't
heard."
"Oh, dear !" sighed Lora. "It 's very taxing on
one's nerves to shirr frills for a star and relate
prosaic details to unappreciative listeners."
"I '11 finish," volunteered Sylvia. "Some peo-
ple, being dull of comprehension, require more
than one informant to make matters plain. Well,
Lucia, we all knew, of course, that Peace would
be one of the six, because she 's a born musician,
and makes her fiddle talk instead of caterwaul
like some of the others. Nothing personal in-
tended, Lu."
"No? Thanks! And, anyhow, I knew enough
to give up my attempts before the habit became
fixed. I have n't opened my violin case for two
months. Go on."
"So Peace and five seniors have been indus-
triously scraping away on all occasions, letting
such trifles as Virgil and trigonometry alone, and
concentrating every energy on the 'Largo.' At
the rehearsals, Herr Richter performed the solo
part, and nobody dreamed he was n't going to
keep right on soloing to the end. But Tuesday
evening he announced, without a moment's warn-
ing, that Peace Payson, our honored classmate,
sophomore, and musician, would play that stun-
ning part at the recital, mind you, while Herr
Richter would n't do a thing but wave his baton !"
"You should have heard the din," Grace chimed
in, laughing at the recollection. "I was up-stairs,
and I thought something had broken loose. The
orchestra clapped like mad, the bass drum
boomed, the cymbals clanged, the tambourines
rattled, and every girl cheered— all but Peace.
When I got down to the music-room— I had to
see what everybody 'd gone crazy over — she was
standing up there hugging her fiddle, and going
pink and white by turns, like a blessed little
chameleon. Her head drooped forward as if it
could n't hold up so much honor, and was
ashamed to try. But she did that solo as if she 'd
been raised on it— Herr Richter himself ap-
plauded when she got through."
"I '11 forgive you for taking a week to arrive at
a piece of news like that." Lucia's own cheeks
were scarlet. "Wait till I get hold of that modest
mouse! Where is she now?"
"Practising, of course. She eats, drinks, and
sleeps recital nowadays. She will let us fit her,
and that 's about all."
"How does it happen that Madam Smythe is n't
making this festive gown ?" Lucia had n't had
time to think of that before.
Grace looked sober. "She said she could n't
afford it. I 'm afraid there 's something wrong
at home. You know Peace never loads her trials
onto anybody, but if she were as care-free as she
used to be, she never could make that 'Largo'
sound the way she does."
"We all pounced on her to know about her
dress, of course — with our usual delicacy— and
she had to own that if there was a new dress at
all, she 'd have to make it." Lora paused to
measure a band. "Now, Lu, you know how much
of a success that would have been. She 's no
more of a dressmaker than a katydid, while Grace
exudes style from her finger-tips."
Grace acknowledged the compliment with a
sweeping bow. "Thanks, awfully ! She would n't
hear of it at first, but we simply made her give in.
We told her it was our share of the honor to
clothe the leading lady in a garb suitable to the
occasion. So we took her purse (not as fat as it
used to be), and Mabel and I bought the things
ourselves. The rest of this crazy-patchwork re-
cital you now behold with your own eyes. Here
comes the star herself !"
The girls made room for Peace, who came in
with her beloved instrument under one arm and a
music satchel in her hand. "How 's everybody?"
she asked cheerfully, stooping to kiss the latest
comer. "It 's good to see you back, Lu. Did you
have a fine time?"
"Gorgeous !" was the reply. "Weddings are no
end interesting, Peace, especially when you 're a
bridesmaid and part of the imposing procession
up the church aisle. But the news when I got
back eclipsed even the marriage festivities."
"Is n't it wonderful, Lucia !" The blue eyes
were earnest and grave. "But it 's a great re-
sponsibility. How good one ought to be to de-
serve a privilege like this !"
"As if Peace Payson could be any 'gooder' than
she is!" exclaimed Lora; but Peace shook her
head, and found a place in the group.
,v.
is
PEACE CAME IN WITH HER BELOVED INSTRUMENT UNDER ONE ARM.
I06l
1062
PEACE PAYSON'S MOTTO
[Oct.,
"Don't say things like that, please !" she begged.
"It makes me feel as if I 'd been a hypocrite and
deceived you all. Lucia, are n't they dear?
Every bit of leisure time they 've had since Tues-
day, these girls have worked for me, and now
you 're at it, too. I '11 never forget it ! when I
have made my fortune, I shall buy each one of
you the sweetest, gauziest gown I can find, in
memory of this one."
"Don't wait too long, honey ! Gauzy gowns
might not be becoming with corkscrew curls and
wrinkles."
"No danger, Grace. I 'm building the most
daring air-castles since Herr Richter put the
notion in my head."
"Does anybody realize that in fifteen minutes
the supper-bell will ring?" No one had realized
it, and a general scramble ensued, as the seam-
stresses folded away their work and fled to their
own rooms. Only Lucia lingered for a moment's
chat with this, her dearest friend.
"I 'm so proud of you, Peace. I feel as if I
ought n't to let you associate with me after the
way I fizzled on my music," she began.
"The idea ! Are n't you heaps of other splen-
did things, I 'd like to know?"
"Not so you could notice it. How did it all
come about, anyhow?"
"I don't know, Lucia. I came across an old
English adage lately, 'Doe ye next thynge,' and
I 've been taking it for a sort of motto since. It
means a lot when you study it out. So I had
made up my mind to be contented to do 'ye next
thynge' for Herr Richter, if it was only a wee
corner among the second violins. I never once
thought of this splendid chance, and I can't un-
derstand it yet."
"I can !" Lucia looked lovingly into her
friend's steadfast eyes. "It 's because you 're so
faithful when your 'next thynges' are trifles that
you are ready to do justice to the big ones. You
deserve it, Peace, every bit !"
"I really don't, but I 'm glad you think I do, Lu
dear," said Peace, happily, adding, "There 's
something else lovely that 's going to happen. I
just got the letter this afternoon. Of course, I
wrote home the minute Tuesday's rehearsal was
over, and Uncle Everett is coming to hear me
play."
"You don't mean it! Why, I thought" — Lucia
stopped and Peace nodded affirmatively.
"Yes, it 's true. Uncle Everett does n't ap-
prove of college education for women, and he
was n't pleased because Father sent me here. He
said a high-school training was enough for any
girl, and that I 'd much better stay at home and
learn to cook and sweep. He was very much
offended for a long time— would n't even write
to me."
"The old-"
"No, no ! you must n't say anything against
him, for he 's a dear, in most respects."
"And a bear in others. I see."
"Well, he 's very fond of music— the violin
especially — and since I 've been getting along
with mine, he has shown some interest in spite of
himself. If I should ever make a really fine
player, I think he 'd be prouder than almost any-
body else. So now he is actually coming to a
woman's college to hear his niece perform ! What
do you think of that, Lucia?"
"That he might be in a much worse place, and
on a less worthy errand."
"So he might. If he 'd only feel differently
about my education, I 'd be so happy, for he is a
good, kind uncle ; but he 's a bachelor, and Father
says that accounts for his peculiarities."
"Very charitable view ! Good-by, child. See
you later."
Left to herself, Peace began putting her room
to rights, keeping busy with her thoughts as she
worked. "I could n't tell even Lucia that Uncle
Everett would have no cause to be offended an-
other year," she said to herself. "I 'm not going
to let any of them know that I can't come back
again. They 'd be so disappointed for me— they
are such dear, true friends." She paused to
straighten a kodak picture of a dozen merry faces,
and her eyes dimmed as she tried to smile back.
Then she shook her head determinedly. "I '11 not
be blue; I '11 just be glad and happy!" she de-
clared. "I 'm going to hold on tight to my dear-
est little air-castle — the one that means that,
maybe, if I do my recital work very well indeed,
Herr Richter might let me try for the position of
assistant next year. He needs help with the be-
ginners, ever so much. If I could do that, and
perhaps coach some of the preparatory-school
students beside, I could pay my own way. It 's
worth trying for with all my might, for I don't
want to give up now, and it 's going to hurt
Father so to have me."
The days flew by, and the evening of the recital
arrived. These entertainments were always inter-
esting, for Herr Richter roused his pupils to
earnest, enthusiastic effort. The Young Ladies'
Orchestra was, perhaps, his pet undertaking, and
to its public recital he had given much prepara-
tion. He was a man of few words, and his rare
praise meant much to his students. Peace had
never suspected that he thought her work un-
usual, and his public recognition of her ability had
stirred the whole school, for Peace was a general
favorite, and all rejoiced in her good fortune.
igi2.]
PEACE PAYSON'S MOTTO
1063
She was looking her prettiest as she took her hear me," Peace murmured as she arranged her
place on the stage that night. The dainty gown music and looked about at her companions,
fulfilled its makers' fondest hopes, and its wearer The stage was not a large one, and the or-
"A SLENDER GIRL WHO PLAYED AS NO ONE HAD EVER HEARD HER PLAY BEFORE.'
was fairly radiant. Uncle Everett was in the
audience, ready to listen for himself and for the
dear home folks. "And I shall not make him
ashamed— I could n't, when he 's come so far to
chestra filled it, so the grand piano was pushed
aside behind the scenes and out of sight of the
audience. It was almost time for the curtain to
rise. Herr Richter was in his place, frowning at
1064
PEACE PAYSON'S MOTTO
[Oct.,
the empty piano-bench and shaking his head over
the tardiness of its occupant. A telephone bell
tinkled in a dressing-room, and he hurried out to
answer its summons. He was back almost im-
mediately, his face red and his eyes snapping.
"Miss Meade, our pianist, has but now fallen,
on her way to this place !" he said to the first
violins, drawn up beside his stand. "Her wrist
iss sprained — it iss not to-night that she can
perform !"
The first violins gasped as one. Their accom-
panist disabled— what could be done? Herr
Richter's face grew redder and more apoplectic;
'YOUR NIECE HASS TALENT, SIR,
HERR RICHTER."
REMARKED
the time was passing, the audience growing impa-
tient. Suddenly (he director turned sharply to-
ward Peace.
"Miss Payson, it iss you who will play the
pianoforte !" he announced. "A very bad busi-
ness this — no rehearsal, no time; ach, it iss bad!"
Peace made one appeal. She was very pale, and
her lips would tremble in spite of her. "The
'Largo,' Herr Richter !" she reminded him. This
time his voice was sharp. "The solo I will myself
play. It iss possible I may get through without
a downbreak. Kindly go at once, Miss Payson,
the people wait !"
She rose without a word. Herr Richter
frowned again. "It iss maddening!" he declared.
"No rehearsal ! But you I can trust, Miss Pay-
son, to do your best."
That was the only sweet drop in the bitter cup,
and that Peace hardly noticed. She must not cry
— every note must be watched with clear, un-
dimmed eyes. She must not even grieve — there
would be time for that afterward. But the
thought pressing down on her heart was of Uncle
Everett, looking eagerly for his girl, listening in
vain for the sound of her violin, and going away
carrying disappointment to the home folks she
had hoped to make so happy.
She did her best in spite of it all, trying to
bring out of the instrument the support the or-
chestra needed.
The curtain fell for the intermission at last,
and the stage was emptied. Peace sat still in her
niche beside the big piano, thankful that no one
came to sympathize. "It must be my 'next
thynge,' " she told herself bravely. "I did n't think
it would be anything quite so hard, but, of course,
that does n't change my duty."
Out in the dressing-room she could hear the
buzz of excited voices. Herr Richter heard it,
too — more plainly than she, for no words reached
her ears, while he could hear distinctly through
the thin partition. The speakers were not very
coherent, to be sure, but eloquent, if fragmen-
tary. They told of the beautiful gown
they had made for her — their labor of
love ; of Uncle Everett, "who 's an
old crosspatch, anyway, and will never
forgive any of us for getting him here under
false pretenses" ; of the father and mother wait-
ing at home to hear the story of their little girl's
triumph. "And there she is, tucked out of sight-
she might as well be dressed in a kimono and
curl-papers — ding-donging on that piano, and
Herr Richter being sarcastic to her ! I hate him
— yes, I do !" declared Lora.
"She does n't deserve to be treated this way!"
another indignant voice chimed in. "She 's too
unselfish—/ should have told him plainly I would
not do it."
"So?" That was all Herr Richter said before
he tapped for them to return to the stage. But
behind his heavy brows his thoughts were work-
ing busily. How could he be expected to realize
all the things he was undoing? The girl had
made no complaint — uttered no protest. As for
the gown— for his part he much preferred a sack-
I9I2-]
PEACE PAYSON'S MOTTO
1065
coat to full dress. But girls were different. Per-
haps he should have remembered that. It was n't
an easy task he had set for her that evening, but
she had done it remarkably well. But there !
tangles were bound to come, and should be met
with what patience one could muster.
The program proceeded, and the "Largo" came
at last. Then it was that Peace had her reward,
for Herr Richter laid down his baton and turned
to the audience, where Uncle Everett sat, glow-
ering. "I haf this to say, mein friends," he re-
marked. "There iss in the orchestra one young
lady who to-night hass not been seen. In a time
off gr-reat emergency, I turned to her for help,
and she did not fail me. While the orchestra hass
been performing to-night, this young lady hass
been at the pianoforte furnishing the foundation
on which the string music hass rested. Now,
mein friends, it iss her turn to come before you,
and it iss my pleasure to announce that Miss
Payson will play the solo in the Handel's 'Largo,'
next on the program, while I take her place at
the pianoforte. The baton will not be used. The
solo violin will play the lead, and she can be
trusted to do it very well, now and always."
All but those who were to play the "Largo"
withdrew from the stage, and the piano was
rolled forward. The first thing happy Peace
realized as she lifted her bow was Uncle Everett's
face — no longer glowering, but radiant with
smiles, while the only figure on the crowded stage
for one proud listener was a slender girl with
waving hair, who played, as no one had ever
heard her play before, her beautiful "next
thynge."
Peace's success was the signal for a wild ova-
tion from her college mates, and they would not
let her go back to the piano till she had played an
encore, all alone.
Herr Richter was introduced to Uncle Everett
after it was all over. "Your niece hass talent,
sir," he remarked. "She wishes to teach, and I
shall need her assistance in my work next year."
"You won't get it, sir !" said Uncle Everett,
bluntly— he was never diplomatic. "She will have
her hands full with her college and her own
music. She will graduate here, of course, but,
then— she is to take her postgraduate work in
Europe." And Uncle Everett was quite able to
fulfil his own prophecies.
THE SKY
BY LAURA SPENCER PORTOR
I 've seen the sky when it was blue,
Blue as a bluebird's wing;
Or yellow at the dawn, as are
The orioles that sing
Sweet in the wild rose-bushes.
And red I 've seen it too-
Like the robin's breast,
Whose pretty nest
The lilac hides from view.
And as the lovely thrushes
Have speckled breasts, the sky
Is speckled, too, sometimes, with clouds
That float in little lovely crowds
Up high — high !
And then much lower down, some day,
The clouds shine white and silver gray,
Just like the soaring gull
With its white breast, and its wonderful
Gray wings. And lower still, sometimes, I see
Out of the west the mighty black clouds come,
Swift, awful ; so that all things hasten home.
The bluebirds, thrushes, orioles, and robins take
quick wing
Back to their favorite bushes ; their little frail
feet cling
To the bending, swaying branches. Oh, this is
no bird weather !
Hasten ye home, ye little birds ! Hush ! and wait
together !
The sky is angry !
This I saw.
And then there flew three ravens forth,
Black as the clouds. They flew straight north ;
And as the oriole at dawn rejoices,
Or bluebird, 'neath June skies, I heard their voices :
And one said: "What fine weather! Caw!"
And the other said: "Yes! Ah! — Yes! —
A- A- Ah!"
So, black of wing as was the storm, they flew,
And that this was the sky they loved, I knew ;
For high above the wind I heard their voices
Still, glad as a child or bluebird that rejoices:
'What fine weather ! Caw! What weather ! Cazv!"
'Ah yes \—Ah!— What weather !— A-A-Ah!"
For every bird there is a sky ; and whether
It be the gentle thrush or raucous raven, there 's
a weather
For each. And that is God's good way; — and
that is why
He made so changing and so wide a sky.
It was the month of May, and the Amazon River
was sweeping down to the sea, six hundred miles
away, in the majesty of a stream ten miles wide
and ninety feet deep. For a month past, it had
risen at Santarem at the rate of nearly a foot
per day, and its every tributary was swollen by
the melting snows of the Andes. Great cedar-
trees, torn from the banks by the resistless flood,
floated down the stream ; these, when captured
and towed in to the scattered sawmills, furnished
the most valuable lumber- of all forest-trees, for
its quality of floating on water is rare among
tropical woods.
At the time of this strange adventure, I was the
guest of an old Brazilian friend, Manuel Valdez,
at his plantation on the Amazon, near Santarem.
The management of sawmill and plantation, with
nearly a hundred laborers, left him little time for
sport ; but Jose Dean, his sturdy nephew of thir-
teen, was always looking for some new and dar-
ing enterprise. He and I were in the gun-room
one morning, trying to plan some excursion for
the day, when "Uncle Manuel" entered, and his
first words scattered our half-formed program.
"The river has n't been so high for years !
Have you noticed how many big cedars are
coming down? I must get some of them in for
the mill, and that means sending a canoe six miles
down the river, to get the chain for hauling them.
I lent it to Sehor Mendez, on condition that he
would return it before high water, but he has
failed to do so. Now I propose that we all take
a holiday. About two miles below here, there 's
a big floating meadow, which the water has been
undermining for several years. There are over
two acres, all overgrown with a jungle of trees
and bushes, with a sod so thick and firm that
you 'd think you were walking on solid ground.
There are always swarms of fish of one kind or
another under these tracts ; they feed on the
grubs and insects that fall from it, I suppose.
Let 's take our fishing-tackle and guns— for we
may see some game — and when the men go down
for the chain, we can stop at the meadow and fish
until they come back for us and our catch. We
ought to get home again about sunset. What do
you think?"
I was delighted, and said so, and Jose sup-
plemented his spoken approval with a hornpipe
and whoops of joy. My host's gun-room was
stocked with the latest models of all that a sports-
man could require for shooting, fishing, or canoe-
ing, and under his general directions we selected
what was needed. We took everything, includ-
ing a well-filled lunch-basket, to the boat where
the two paddlers were already waiting, and soon
we were out of the little cove where boats were
kept, and speeding down the river. At first the
bank was steep and stony, rising several feet
above the river, and surmounted by heavy woods.
As we descended, the banks became lower, with
here and there a strip of grass-grown meadow
between forest and river, and at last turned to
a sharp, straight edge of meadow turf, rising
smoothly at a uniform height of about one foot
above the surface of the unruffled water.
ADRIFT ON THE AMAZON
1067
"This is the place," said Captain Valdez, "and
there 's no underbrush close to the water, so we
can make ourselves comfortable along this edge."
The boat was drawn up to the edge, and our guns,
lines, bait, and lunch-basket set ashore ; then,
after the canoemen had received instructions to
call for us on the return trip, they went on down
the river. We took our things back to a place of
safety, then walked along the edge until we found
a spot where the current would carry our bait
under the sod, where the fish would see it, while
we were out of their sight. It was soon apparent
that this precaution was needless, for the sleepy,
sluggish catfish herded there seemed destitute of
any sense save that of hunger. As soon as a hook
drifted near one, he would languidly take it in,
make only a feeble resistance to being hauled
out, and after a few perfunctory flops, lie still.
We had caught perhaps a hundred pounds, when
Senor Valdez wound up his line, remarking,
"I 've only eighty people to feed now, and we
have at least a pound apiece for them, so let 's
quit. After luncheon, we '11 look about us a
little."
Jose quickly followed suit, saying disgustedly,
"Not much fun in this kind of fishing; it 's about
as good sport as taking mackerel out of a kit !"
After spreading a tarpaulin over our catch, and
refreshing ourselves from the basket, we strolled
along the edge of meadow, which, as far as we
could judge, extended for a hundred yards out
over the river. At the shore end, a dense jungle
sloped gently upward to terra firma ; and the turf
was so thick and firmly woven together, that,
though we tried to produce a wave by all spring-
ing upward together, the effort failed. We ex-
plored for about half an hour, then returned to
our fish; and here a surprise awaited us. Jose,
who was a few yards ahead, suddenly stopped,
and, in a voice of subdued excitement, exclaimed :
"Look, Uncle Manuel ! There 's a big animal,
eating the fish !" We hurried forward, just in
time to hear some large creature slinking off into
the thicket. Senor Valdez questioned the boy
eagerly.
"Did you get a fair sight of him, Jose? Was
he spotted like a leopard, or almost black, or
yellowish gray all over?"
"Oh, yes, I saw him plainly; he stood there with
part of a fish in his mouth, and turned and walked
off with it when he saw me. He was a kind of
tawny yellow— like a panther I saw once at the
Zoo."
"It was a panther," his uncle answered, "only
we call them pumas here. We have three kinds
of big cats, all 'jaguars,' but we have different
names to distinguish them. The different kinds
hate each other, and fight whenever they meet.
The black ones are the biggest and wickedest, and
we call them 'tigers' ; the spotted ones are 'onqas,'
and the yellow ones 'pumas.' They live along the
sandy banks of rivers, and fish a good deal ; this
fellow, I suppose, came to fish for himself, but
was lucky enough to find dinner all ready for
him." He looked at his watch, then turned to
me. "Jim, I 'd rather like to try for a shot at
that puma, would n't you ? It 's three o'clock, and
the boat won't be back for about three hours, so
we 'd have time to follow him up. Pumas are n't
quite so shy as onqas, so we might get a chance
at him. Jose, would you mind staying here with
the catch ? You can keep the little gun, and fire it
for a signal if the boat comes, or anything hap-
pens."
"That '11 suit me better than crawling around
in the thicket," answered Jose; "and, anyhow, if
I went with you, I would n't dare shoot at a puma
with this little bird gun. But I can fire it if the
boat comes."
While we got our guns ready, Senor Valdez
told us some new and surprising things about
pumas. "Did you know," he said, "that the name
the Indians in Buenos Aires have for the pumas
means, in English, 'the Christian's friend'? A
puma was never known to attack a man or a child,
even in self-defense. They cringe and shed tears
if hopelessly at bay, and a puma has been known
to attack an on<;a that was threatening a child.
I 've had one trot ahead of me like a dog, when
crossing a campo, stopping and waiting if it got
far ahead, and at last turning into the bushes
when I got near a house."
"And you 're anxious to shoot a nice, friendly
creature like that!" I exclaimed; "I confess, it
takes away some of my enthusiasm."
He smiled wisely : "Ah, but they are the plague
of planters, and we have to shoot them, to save
our young stock, their favorite prey. They kill
more colts and cattle than the onqas do; so you
need n't waste sympathy on them. Come along !"
Thus justified, I followed into the thicket where
the puma had disappeared, and after advancing a
little way, we found that there was a low, open
path, made and preserved by the going and com-
ing of animals to the river, for drinking or fish-
ing. It was narrow and crooked, so we could not
see far ahead; but we had not gone far, when we
heard the movement of some creature in ad-
vance of us, and once we saw a dusky shadow
rounding a turn in the path. We never once
doubted that it was the same puma which Jose
had seen; it did not seem much alarmed, and if
we kept the trail long enough, we were pretty
sure of a shot at it, for it would dash ahead a
1068
ADRIFT ON THE AMAZON
[Oct.,
few rods, then wait until we were quite near, then
dart on again.
"He hates to leave those fish, or else his mate
is prowling near here somewhere ; they often
hunt in pairs at this season. But his mate would
hardly dare to hide in so small a cover as this,
so he 's probably waiting for a chance to get back
and finish his dinner," Senor Valdez remarked.
After advancing a hundred yards or so, we came
to the point where the floating tract joined the
solid land, marked by a slight depression extend-
ing on both sides as far as we could see. In this
hollow were pools of water, which we had some
trouble in crossing. As we scrambled over on an
old log the trail had led us to, Sehor Valdez ex-
plained the hollow at the joining. "The turf is
cracked by repeated bending when the river rises
and falls. It has been like this for two years
now, but I never saw it quite so wide before.
There goes our cat !" he broke off suddenly, point-
ing ahead to the puma, which was just disappear-
ing again.
We pursued the creature through the woods
until, at last, it took to a tree and hid among the
dense foliage, to be brought down finally by a
lucky shot ; but that is too long a story to tell here.
After the excitement of the chase was over, our
thoughts reverted to Jose. More than an hour
had slipped away since we had left the little chap,
half forgetting him in the zest of the hunt ; and
though the boat was not yet due, we felt anxious
lest we might have got beyond the sound of his
gun. Leaving our trophy hung as high as possi-
ble, we started on the back trail ; but after reaching
the heavy timber, it became so dim and winding
that, instead of following it far, we made straight
for the river. On this account, we were not much
surprised, or in the least alarmed, when we found
neither the log where we had crossed, nor the
little strip of water, but came to the broad river
itself. Senor Valdez remarked that it was odd
that he had missed the meadow, but that we must
be above or below it. Then, after a moment's
intense scrutiny, he almost shouted:
"No, Jim ! Here 's our log, but the meadow
has broken away and floated off, with the boy on
it— alone!" Rapidly he ran over the situation,
anxiety in his voice. "The canoe won't be here
for an hour; and there is n't another within two
miles of jungle— an hour of travel. Even then,
it would be too late to overtake that island before
night, and we could not find or follow it after
dark !"
Just then we heard the distant and feeble re-
port of a gun, followed by a far-away, treble
shout. Leaning out over the water as far as we
dared, we could see our island. It was slowly
turning around, and now the meadow edge where
we had fished was up-stream and nearest us, but
fully a quarter of a mile distant. We could dis-
tinguish the boy, standing close to the edge and
waving his straw hat. It was doubtful whether
he could see us under the trees, but we both
shouted, and fired a volley from our repeating
guns. The extravagant waving of his hat and the
feeble pipe of his boyish voice told us that we
were heard ; and it gave us added hope and cour-
age to feel that the little hero was animated by
the spirit of "don't give up the ship !"
Manuel Valdez was a resourceful man, and one
of action, not of many words, when driven to the
wall. Staring blindly over the water, he said:
"Jim, you must stay here and watch that island,
until it goes out of sight or is hidden by the dark-
ness. I will make my way as best I can up the
river-bank, on the small chance of finding a boat
or a fisherman — I 've heard of one or two half-
civilized squatters, at the lower end of my land, a
mile or more above here. If I don't find one, I '11
push on home, get a boat, come back for you, and
then start in pursuit."
"But your men will be here with the chain be-
fore you return. Perhaps they '11 see the lad, and
take him off," I suggested hopefully.
"They 're not likely to see him, even if they
come, for his island may move out toward the
middle of the stream, as they usually do, while the
boat will be sure to hug the shore for the slower
current. Then the island is spinning round, and
Jose can't keep on the side where he will be seen.
No," as he turned his face up-stream, "there is
not one chance in fifty of their finding him." As
he began his difficult task, he threw over his
shoulder his parting instruction :
"If the canoe comes before I get back, send it
at once to find and overtake the island ; but you
had best stay right here, to give me the latest
observation, then go with me." I heard him for
a few moments, breaking through the thicket, and
then the great silence of the forest by day fell on
river and shore.
I watched the island until it was hidden behind
a projecting point, half a mile farther down. It
seemed to approach the shore, and was fairly in
sight of a possible canoe coming up ; but when it
struck the cross current caused by the point, and
before it was entirely hidden by the swift dark-
ness, it was too distant to be seen and recognized
by canoemen. Then I listened intently for the
sound of the returning boat.
But the instant the sun had set, the nightly con-
cert of the tropics began. Every bird and beast
and bullfrog was wildly signaling its fellows.
Several times I mistook the splash of a leaping
igi2.]
ADRIFT ON THE AMAZON
1069
fish for coming paddlers, but after what seemed
hours of waiting, I heard the unmistakable rhyth-
mic beat of hurrying canoemen. Then a shout,
"Hello, Jim! Where are you?" and the flash of
a swinging lantern told me that Sehor Valdez
often thrown almost straight across its bed by
projecting points of land; the island when last
seen had already started for the middle of the
river. But, after living on the river all my life,
I have found out that any two objects, like boards
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WE KEPT EACH OTHER FROM BEING LONESOME ALL NIGHT.
had returned with assistance. Guided by the flame
of a vesta in my hand, he came in, and I made
my report, and learned in turn that he had hailed
two fishermen, a mile farther up-stream, and had
impressed boat and paddlers into his service.
Just then his own men, returning with the
chain, saw our light and hailed us, explaining that
they were late because they had to wait for the
borrower to return from hunting. They were not
much concerned to find the meadow gone adrift,
until they learned that Jose was on it. As we got
under way, Sehor Valdez announced his plan.
"If we go directly down-stream, we shall prob-
ably miss the island in the night, for the boy has
no light. Then again, at high water, the river is
falling in from the mill, will keep near together
for a hundred miles. Now, if we start where the
island did, and let our boats go with the current,
they will follow the same course, and, by sunrise,
we shall probably sight it. The poor boy will
have to spend the night alone, but he is safe
enough, and the lunch-basket was not empty, so
he will have some food."
The oldest paddler volunteered corroboration
with, "That 's right, Sehor; that 's the way we
always find canoes that get adrift."
To wait in idleness, when the life of a human
being is threatened by the forces of nature, ut-
terly beyond our power to control or resist, is, per-
haps, the severest strain ever brought upon a
1070
ADRIFT ON THE AMAZON
sympathetic temperament. In our case, every
nerve was tense with a desire to put forth some
supreme effort to serve the lad whose bravery
and infectious cheerfulness had endeared him to
all who knew him. With three in each canoe to
take alternate watches, while the others tried to
get snatches of much-needed sleep, the voyage
was begun. Neither Sefior Valdez nor I at-
tempted to sleep, and we rarely spoke. At mid-
night, the wild creatures along the shore gradu-
ally lapsed into silence, and the only noises were
the whispering of the sleepless river, or an occa-
sional splash which meant play, or tragedy, among
the swarming fish.
That was the longest night I ever knew. At
last daylight slowly penetrated the mists which
hung over the river, but it was a full hour before
we could see the shore. Then, as if at the com-
mand of some resistless power, the mist rose; not
in broken patches, but foot by foot, everywhere,
until we could see that we were near midstream.
Both shores and two or three floating islands
were visible, but we rowed down-stream a mile
or more before sighting the wooded island of
our pursuit, and it was nearly half an hour more
before our strong paddlers brought us near
enough to be certain that it was the one we
sought. Something moving arrested our atten-
tion.
"Look there !" exclaimed Sefior Valdez, with a
laugh which held both relief and pride ; "the
plucky little rascal is still waving his hat !" Sure
enough, there stood Jose , confident that we would
come down the river after him, he had crossed
the island, now turned half round, and was sig-
naling to us from the side which had joined the
mainland. We returned his greetings joyfully,
and were within fifty feet of him, when suddenly
Sefior Valdez stood up in the boat and seized
his rifle. He was bringing it to his shoulder,
when Jose shouted in great excitement:
"Don't shoot, Uncle Manuel ! Please don't
shoot ! He 's as tame as a kitten, and he 's been
company for me all night !"
Sefior Valdez complied, though he kept his gun
in hand. Just then, a slight movement of a bush
drew my attention to the snake-like head of a
puma, peering at us with both fear and defiance
in his yellow eyes. The animal stood still until
Sehor Valdez stepped from the boat, then, with
a growl, it darted through the thicket and sprang
into the river. We saw its head, as it swam
swiftly to a small fragment which had become
detached from our island, and then it hid quickly
among the bushes.
We received a joyful welcome from our young
voyager, and soon took him on board, together
with the fish we had caught. The lunch-basket
was not forgotten, for it was not quite empty;
six hungry men, however, soon attended to that.
We made inshore to a slower current, and began
our toilsome journey homeward; and, on the way,
Jose told us of his voyage, and his strange com-
panion, often interrupted by our eager questions.
"No, Uncle Manuel, I was n't really scared,"
said he ; "that is, not until the island got into
deep water, and the waves rocked it so I could
see the trees swaying. That made me feel —
well, rather anxious, and sort of seasick, too, so
I thought I 'd better lie down awhile. Pretty
soon I heard a whining noise near me, and when
I looked around, there was Mr. Puma peering
through the bushes with his shiny eyes ! It was
lucky I 'd just heard your story about their not
attacking people, for it kept me from being fright-
ened ; and, anyhow, I could see that the puma
himself was scared at the motion. He looked at
the trees waving, and then he came close and
nosed my hand and smelled at it, and seemed to
think I was all right, for he laid down close be-
side me, just like a nice old pussy-cat. When I
moved back to get away from the spray, he fol-
lowed, and lay as close as he could; and it 's
funny, but I really went to sleep several times—
though every time I looked, his eyes were wide
open.
"We kept each other from being lonesome all
night, and when the daylight came, the puma
went clear around the island, looking for a place
to get off; then he came back, and ate a fish I
gave him. He heard the canoes long before I
did, for the hair stood up on his back, and then
he growled and ran behind the bush, where you
saw him. But, don't you see, Uncle Manuel,"
Jose finished earnestly, "it would n't have been
fair to shoot that puma!"
■^mmMHHMm
morning; noon; and night
PICTURES
PAINTED FOR ST. NICHOLAS
BY
FRANCIS DAY
MORNING.
f ftANCtS IVaY
Jp
1
Vol. XXXIX.— 135.
NOON.
!°73
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F
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Vft'-NNIMS OAV
NIGHT.
1074
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE
Chapter XXVII
HALF A SIXPENCE
What Colonel Taunton had told "Friend Wain"
that night at dinner, namely, that he was awaiting
orders to withdraw his troops to Philadelphia,
proved true ; and a day or two later, they left us,
so that John was free to come and go about the
house as he pleased, until he was quite strong
again.
For a few weeks, we had peace at Denewood ;
but, with the beginning of that dreadful winter of
1777 and 1778, we were a prey to foraging parties
sent out by the British from Philadelphia, where
they were much put to it for food and fuel.
The whole country suffered, and we with the
rest ; but though our bins were stripped, our re-
maining horses taken, and what cattle they could
find slaughtered, those vaults wherein Mrs. Mum-
mer had hidden most of her provisions were not
found, and for a while we had plenty.
But as the winter advanced and Brother John
came with heartbreaking stories of the sufferings
at Valley Forge, Mrs. Mummer opened her secret
stores, saying she could not sleep for thinking of
the bleeding feet and starving bodies of the Con-
tinentals. To be sure, there was not enough to
feed even so small an army as that which Gen-
eral Washington then commanded, but it did
something to relieve the distress of those cold
weeks.
Brother John stripped the house of all the
blankets and comfortables and other such cover-
ings as we could possibly spare. Polly and Betty
complained, but the rest of us were glad enough
to think that a few more brave men might be the
warmer for our sacrifice ; and though at times
Peggy and I, sleeping together for greater com-
fort, shivered in our bed, we willingly bore the
discomfort, thinking, as little Peg said, that, "Our
so-so-soldiers are co-co-colder than we are, Bub-
Bub-Bee."
We had many visitors coming and going on
business connected with the Continental army,
and upon one great occasion, General Washing-
ton brought with him the Marquis de Lafayette.
Poor Mrs. Mummer was so put to it to find a
fitting dinner for His Excellency, that she fair
wrung her hands in despair. But somehow she
got together a fine meal, of which Genera]
Washington ate but sparingly, and when Brother
John urged him further, he shook his head, say-
ing he could not eat heartily while he remem-
bered that his good soldiers were hungry at Val-
ley Forge.
Captain McLane was often with us, sometimes
with Brother John, and again alone, for he seemed
constantly on the go, with or without his troop,
and would drop in at the most unexpected mo-
ments.
Brother John, too, like Captain McLane, was
always on the go, annoying the British whenever
the opportunity occurred, stopping supplies to the
city, and falling on foraging parties which they
had word of. He was entirely recovered from
the wound in his head, and in spite of hardships
he seemed to thrive.
Of course we heard much of the gaiety among
the British and Tories in Philadelphia, mainly
through Polly and Betty, who came with stories
of these doings gathered from the Shaws and
Shipleys. But it was from other sources that we
learned how intense the suffering became among
the poor, and how well-nigh impossible it was to
obtain necessities.
As the spring advanced and General Wash-
ington moved to surround the city, this condition
became more and more aggravated, and soon it
was said that Philadelphia had captured General
Howe, for now that he would like to come out, he
found it not so easy.
We were glad when the warm days came at
length, and Brother John, on one of his flying
visits, told us with great glee that General Howe
had been ordered back to England, and that Sir
Henry Clinton was to have command.
"We '11 beat them yet, my little sister!" he
cried gaily. "There will be no such winter as this
again. 'T is now the beginning of the end. It
may take years yet— indeed, the general thinks so
— but it 's sure, Bee; it 's sure !" And he took my
hands, and we danced about the great hall like
two children.
The next day, Polly and Betty came with word
of a great fete that the British officers and Tories
were to give in honor of General Howe.
" 'T is to be styled The Mischianza," said Polly,
"and there are to be knights and ladies, and a
pageant, and — and I know not what else. At
night there is to be a ball such as Philadelphia
has never seen."
"And why are they doing it?" I asked.
"To honor General Howe, as I have already
told you," she replied pertly, tossing her head.
1076
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
"I see no very good reason for such a celebra-
tion when so many are suffering," I burst out.
"Nay, I care nothing for your politics," inter-
rupted Polly. "I know only that there will be
fine doings, and that I am going."
"Nay, I think it would be more decent to stay
at home !" I told her plainly. "With your father
and brother in our army."
"Hoity-toity!" she flashed back, in a temper,
"you are not my governess, Mistress Beatrice ! I
take no orders from a chit of a girl like you. I
shall go, and take Betty with me."
I did what I could to persuade her otherwise,
but she would not listen, and, having no authority,
I must, perforce, let her have her way.
When they returned a few days later, I found
that Madam Shaw, besides allowing them to see
the pageant, had taken Polly and her daughter
Ann to the ball, where each had several partners,
and had their heads turned by foolish compli-
ments.
"La, child !" said Polly to me, airily, "now who
do you think led me out first? You '11 never
guess, but I '11 not plague you. 'T was Blundell !
I vow he is quite a personable man. And what
think you he said to me ?"
"Nay, I care not," I answered.
"He told me," she went on, "that he promised
himself one more visit to Denewood before he
left. Ah, that makes you start, does it?" and she
stood back, shaking her finger at me. "To think
you should have an affair with him !"
"Polly !" I cried, "how can you be such a ninny !
I am but a child, and if Blundell comes back, 't is
not for love, but hate."
"Oh, aye," she retorted scornfully, " 't is likely.
And I suppose you '11 say as much of the gentle-
man who showed me the half of a sixpence that
you had given him — as a lover's token, I doubt
not."
"What !" I exclaimed. "Was Lord Howe
there?"
"Aye, you sly puss," laughed Polly. "That
wakes you up ! He was there, to be sure, and
though a very proper gentleman, I must say he is
a trifle ancient for my taste."
"Oh, you foolish, foolish maid !" I replied, and
ran off laughing at her silliness.
That same night Brother John came to dinner
with us, and after the others had gone up to bed, I
sat talking with him in the hall, as he meant to
stay the night. We had much to say, for as I
had grown older I was glad to find he put more
and more responsibility upon me, so that, indeed,
I began to feel I was of some use to him, and
not just a burden.
I know not what we talked of, but in the midst
of it, we heard the clatter of a horse galloping up
the drive, and Brother John jumped to his feet,
not knowing who it might be.
We heard the horse stop at the entrance, and
then the voice of a man speaking to the stable-
boy.
"Take her and rub her down, but give her no-
thing for full ten minutes, or you 're like to
founder her, and I have need of a good horse to-
night."
It was Captain McLane, and we hurried forth
to welcome him.
"Good !" he cried as he caught sight of Brother
John, "I 'm right glad you 're here ! There 's
work to do. Where is Lafayette ?"
"He is camped back of Barren Hill. Why,
what 's up?"
"Howe has five thousand picked men out to take
his rear, and is like to do it, if Lafayette is not
warned. I got hold of it in Philadelphia this
morning. I went in with some vegetables as
usual, and made pretty pickings. But I 've had a
time getting here. The redcoats are everywhere,
and we have few moments to waste. 'T is Howe's
last chance, and he hopes to end his command
brilliantly, as, indeed, he would if his plan went
through. But we '11 fool him, Jack, for once
Lafayette has word, he '11 know what to do."
While he talked, I had brought food, and he ate
it hurriedly and was ready for the road again,
calling for his horse ere the poor beast had time
to dry.
"Nay," said Brother John, "you wait here for
half an hour. I '11 on by the main road, and you
take the other. In that way, one of us will win
through, and you '11 make better speed for a rested
horse."
Captain McLane, seeing the wisdom of this
suggestion, nodded, and with hardly a word of
good-by, Brother John was gone.
Thus they often came and went ; and although
I liked it not, and was anxious till I had word of
them both again, I was not surprised.
The next morning while I was tidying up my
room, I heard Peggy calling from down-stairs.
I ran out, and leaning over the balustrade, an-
swered her.
"Here I am, Peg; what is it?"
"There 's a bu-bu-boy down here asking for
you, Bub-Bub-Bee."
At once my thoughts flew to Brother John and
to his going off alone the night before to find
his way among those British troops that Cap-
tain McLane had spoken of as "everywhere."
Perhaps he was wounded and lying in the woods
awaiting help. I ran down the stairs to the front
door to see who the stranger might be.
'OPENING THE PANEL, I RAN TO LORD HOWE, STILL BLINDFOLDED — ' COME ! ' I CRIED.
1077
1078
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[Oct.,
There I found a shock-headed country boy with
one hand held behind his back.
"What is it ?" I asked anxiously.
"Be you Mistress Travers?" he asked slowly.
"Yes, yes, tell me !" I begged impatiently.
He turned his head to one side, evidently sus-
picious.
"He bade me speak to no one save only Mistress
Travers," he said doubtingly. "I bethought me
she was a lady."
"I am Mistress Travers !" I cried, certain now
that there was something wrong. "What is it you
have to say to me ?"
He looked at me again for a moment uncer-
tainly, and then, with a solemn shake of his head,
brought forth the hand that had been behind his
back, and thrust it toward me.
"Know you that?" he asked.
Between the dirty fingers I saw the half of a
sixpence !
Chapter XXVIII
blindman's-buff
I took that bit of broken sixpence in my hand,
matched it with the half hanging from my neck,
and could scarce believe it when they fitted.
"How came you by this?" I asked the boy, who
stood looking at me stupidly.
' 'T was given me by a man who waits in the
wood below," was the answer. "He said he would
have speech with Mistress Travers. Be ye sure 't
is you ?"
"Yes, yes !" I answered impatiently, beset with
unknown fears, for it scarce seemed possible that
the one to whom I had given that piece of silver
could be waiting for me.
"What sort of a man gave you this?" I de-
manded next, at which the lad put his hand to his
head and rubbed it in a perplexed sort of way.
"Nay, I know not," he replied deliberately,
"save that he spoke as one who meant to be
obeyed."
For a moment, I was in two minds what to do,
but only for a moment.
"Take me to him," I said.
'T was but to the edge of the forest he took me,
and there I found Admiral Howe waiting. I
stared at him in astonishment, for 't was hard to
believe my eyes.
"I bid you good morning, Mistress Beatrice,"
he said, bending over my hand. " 'T is an awk-
ward place to renew our acquaintance, but I think
you must believe I am very glad to see you."
He spoke as coolly as if he were still aboard
his flag-ship, surrounded by his officers.
"Why, how came you here?" were my first
words, for I was far from cool.
"Is this the American hospitality I have heard
so much vaunted?" he replied, with a smile; "or
is it natural curiosity ?"
"Nay, Lord Howe," I said, " 't is no lack of
hospitality, nor have I forgotten what I owe to
your kindness to a forlorn little maid nigh two
years ago. But this is no safe place for you!
Captain McLane or my brother may return at any
minute, and if I am to serve you as I would, I
must know how the matter stands."
"Aye, you are quite right, Mistress Beatrice,"
he answered readily, "and here 's the truth of it,
though it reflects little credit upon any of us.
My unfortunate brother, General Howe, wished
to leave with some small achievement, and to that
end planned a movement against Lafayette. So
certain was he of the success of his expedition,
that he told many friends in Philadelphia that
they must prepare a fitting reception for the
marquis when he was brought in a prisoner. He
even invited ladies to dine with him. Then, too,
he asked General Knyphausen and Sir Henry
Clinton and myself, with some others, to go with
him upon the expedition. So sure was he — and I
submit the plan was well conceived— that we all
thought failure impossible, and I, a foolish sailor,
was glad to go. Well, it turned out otherwise,
Mistress Beatrice, why I know not; but Lafayette
did not stay to be captured ! And seeing failure
before us, I had no stomach to face the smiles of
derision that would greet us upon our return to
Philadelphia empty-handed. And so I turned my
horse, thinking I could not miss the road, and
would slip back alone and go on shipboard."
He paused a moment, giving a light laugh.
"The rest is plain. I cannot navigate upon the
land, it seems, so I lost my way, lamed my horse,
and had to abandon him. I stumbled on afoot till
I was like to drop. Then I met the country lad,
and learned from him that I was near Denewood.
A little cousin of yours whom I saw at the great
ball said that you were here, and, remembering
my bit of sixpence, I sent it to you. It has been
lucky, for it brought you to my aid, and I should
like it back again. I fear that my poor brother
has no such lucky piece."
I returned the broken coin, scarce knowing
what I did, for I was thinking how I could help him.
"I will show you the road to Shaw's, Lord
Howe," I said. "There you will be safe, and
doubtless able to find a horse; for, being Tories,
they have been spared, while we Whigs have been
stripped of all our live stock. 'T is but a mile or
so," I added, noting the look of disappointment
that came into his face.
"Nay," he returned a little sharply, "first I must
have rest, and I have not eaten since last night."
igi2.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
1079
I was in a quandary, for, though I did not ex-
pect my brother nor Captain McLane, they might
come at any moment ; and though the capture of
Lord Howe would be a fine thing for the cause, /
had no wish to be a party to it. On the other
hand, to turn him away with neither food nor rest
seemed cruel. I know not why it is so, but a
hungry man always seems to me the most pitiable
thing in all the world.
"Come !" I said, making up my mind to take the
risk. "I will get something for you to eat, but I
warn you we may be interrupted at any moment,
with what results I fear to think."
"I am in your hands, Mistress Beatrice," he
said, and we started to make our way to the house.
He had not exaggerated his distress, and though
he tried to hide it, I saw that he limped, and knew
his foot was lamed.
As we came near the house, I bade him wait
while I went forward to see who might be about.
But there was none but Polly and Betty, busy
with some needlework, sitting on the sod under
the trees, and it would be an easy matter to pass
them.
I returned to Admiral Howe, and drew him to
the side of the house, entering the dining-room by
the long window. He sank into a chair with a
huge sigh of relief.
I ordered food prepared, and posted the black
boy, Charley, to warn me in case any one ap-
peared, after which I returned to the Admiral.
We chatted while waiting for his meal, and I
asked him for word of Mr. Vernon, for though I
had tried before to have news of him, I could
never come by it. Lord Howe did not at first
recall him, there being so many young officers in
the fleet, but at last he succeeded in remembering
that shortly after I had escaped from the Good
Will, Mr. Vernon had sold his commission.
"I think he had no heart in the matter,"
said Lord Howe. "And indeed, Mistress Bea-
trice, 't is no easy task to bring Englishmen to
killing Englishmen, no matter how wrongheaded
they may be. Were it otherwise, we should not
have need of Hessians to fight under the British
flag."
At that moment, Mrs. Mummer came in, bear-
ing some food for His Lordship ; and plain enough
it was, but he eyed it hungrily, and immediately
pulled up his chair to the table.
No sooner had he taken up his fork than
Charley hurried into the room with the most dis-
quieting news.
"Mars Cap'en McLane don comin' at a gallop,
Miss Bee," he announced, "and thar 's a troop
behind 'im a-clatterin'— " But he had said enough,
and, with a gesture, I sent him from the room.
Lord Howe was on his feet, his food still un-
tasted, and he looked at me inquiringly.
"I must be hidden," he said in an undertone;
"I have no wish to meet Captain McLane, hav-
ing heard too much of that gentleman's enter-
prise."
"But where can I hide you from him in this
house?" I answered. "He knows every foot of it,
and—"
"But he will have no thought of search," Lord
Howe broke in.
"That is true," I answered; and on the in-
stant, I decided to put the Admiral in the secret
room.
"Come !" I cried; and, snatching a napkin from
the table, I hurried him up-stairs and into Brother
John's apartment.
Shutting the door behind me, I went over to the
Admiral, folding the napkin into a bandage.
"I must blindfold you," I said, and seeing him
draw back, I hastened to add, "there is no other
way."
"But, Mistress Beatrice," he demurred, " 't is
asking much, and—"
"Nay, Your Lordship," I interrupted, for there
was no time for argument, "it must be done. Re-
member, you are in the house of your enemies,
and were you any other than yourself, I would
never lift hand to save you. I owe much to you,
and I will help you all I can with honor ; but the
secrets of this house I shall guard, and though,
perchance, I break a trust, 't will be only after I
have your word that you will not remove the
bandage."
He looked at me quizzically for a moment, with
a slight smile upon his lips; then he nodded his
head in agreement.
"Bind my eyes, Mistress Beatrice," he said
gently. "I give my word they shall so remain
until you release me from my promise."
With that I blindfolded him, and, opening the
panel in the wall, led him to a chair and left him
seated in the secret room.
As I gently closed the panel again, I heard
the sound of galloping horses tearing up the
drive, and many shouts, mingled with a volley
of shots. My heart stood still, and for a mo-
ment I could not move ; then I ran to see what
the matter was. But ere I could reach the front
door, it was thrown violently open, and Captain
McLane came in, shutting and locking it behind
him.
"Ah, Mistress Bee," he cried, as he turned to
me, "what luck that you are here ! You must
hide me at once, for there 's a score or two of
redcoats will be searching high and low in a
minute or two. The woods are thick with
1080
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[Oct.,
them," and he started toward the room I had just
quitted.
"No, no, no !" I cried, running after him as he
mounted the stairs, "you can't go there now !"
"Not go !" he exclaimed, looking at me in
amazement. "Not go? Why not? 'T is a mat-
ter near life and death to me ! I tell you they 're
at my heels ! Did n't you hear the shots? Come,
"Oh, no, no, no !" I cried, and then I burst into
a fit of weeping, though I stifled my sobs so that
no sound should reach the occupant of the secret
room.
"Nay, Bee, do not cry," he said, for, like all
strong men, he was not proof against tears. "I
did not mean to be rough, but I like not to be
captured. Cannot something be done?"
STOP! I CRIED, AND, HUSHING UP, SNATCHED THE BRAND FROM HIS HAND." (SEE PAGE 1084.)
open the panel," said he, as we reached the
threshold of Brother John's room. "The}' may be
here any moment."
"Speak softly!" I whispered, as we entered and
I locked the door behind us. "Can't you go by
Peg's mousehole ?"
"Yes," he said grimly, "if I want to fall into
their hands. Nay, it must be the secret room."
"But there is some one there already !" I cried
in desperation.
"Ho !" he said, his face lighting, " 't is Jack.
Well, with him I 'd face the troop, were there
need !"
"Nay, 't is not John," I told him, and his face
grew very grave.
"I do not understand. Will you have me
taken ?" he asked, his face growing stern.
"Yes," I answered, "I can put you in the secret
room, but you must let me bind your eyes, and
promise not to look till I give you leave."
'T was like a drowning man clutching at a
straw, for I thought I saw my way clear, if he
only would consent. But he shook his head, and
I saw he had no more fancy to be blindfolded than
had Lord Howe.
"Nay, I will walk into no trap," he said hotly.
"Oh, Captain McLane !" I answered, distressed
that he should hint at any treachery on my part.
"Think you I would betray you?"
"But who is the man?" he broke in upon my
speech.
"Nay, that I cannot tell you," I made answer.
"And I thought you were a true American," he
muttered to himself, half turning from me.
1912J
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
1081
"And so I am !" I cried, "but I cannot think the
country would be better did I dishonor a pledge.
Oh, Captain, 't is a private debt that I must pay !
If you owed silver to a poor man, would you
refuse to pay it because the country needed
money? I owe this man a thousand times more
than money; for, when I had most need of it, he
stood my friend. I can do no less."
At that, the sounds of much talking and of
heavy feet coming up the stairs brought us back
to the peril of the situation.
"Here they come," said the. captain, "and I am
lost."
"Nay, let me bind your eyes," I begged. "You
can trust me."
He looked at me earnestly for a moment, and
then smiled.
"You must e'en have your way," he said. "But
hurry with your blindfolding, for I hear them
coming down the hall."
I ran to him^ eagerly. My own handkerchief
would scarce reach half-way round his head, and
I looked about me in vain for a cloth.
"Let me have your handkerchief," I cried.
"And must I supply my own bandage?" he
asked, putting a hand in his pocket, but not find-
ing what he sought. " 'T is lost," he ended, and at
that moment came a rattle at the lock of the door
and the murmur of voices on the other side of it.
Then followed a thundering knock.
"Open at once !" was the command, and I
jumped with fright.
"Hurry !" whispered the captain. "They '11
batter it down in a moment."
But I could find nothing with which to bind his
eyes. I thought I should go mad.
"Open, or we '11 break down the door !" cried
the voice outside, and a resounding crash gave
fair warning of what was to come.
"They 're on us," muttered the captain, cross-
ing the room to where the panel opened in the
wall. "I wish I had the secret of it."
I ran to him in hot haste, and, seizing him by
the arms, stood him face to the wall beside the
secret entrance, yet so turned that he could see
nothing of it.
"I trust you not to look," I said. "There is no
other way, and my honor is in your hands." His
shoulders straightened, and I knew that, until I
gave the word, he would so stand, no matter what
might come.
Meanwhile the order to smash the door had
been given, and they were at it, but it was stout
oak and held for a space, though the racket cov-
ered all other sounds.
Opening the panel, I ran to Lord Howe, still
blindfolded and seated as I had left him.
Vol. XXXIX.-136.
''Come !" I cried, seizing him by the hand.
"But what does all this noise mean?"' he de-
manded.
I said naught, but dragged him forth, and as
he limped out into the larger room I left him.
Then, seizing Captain McLane, I pushed him
through the opening and closed the panel.
The lock was breaking, and as I plucked the
bandage from Lord Howe's eyes, the door gave
way. Then into the room, at the head of a half-
score of men, stumbled a young officer with a
drawn sword.
"Now yield you, McLane !" he cried. "We
have you this time !" But even as he spoke, he
recognized the man who stood before him. "Lord
Hozve!" he exclaimed, and his eyes opened wide
with astonishment.
As for me, I was near overcome with the strain
I had been under, and clung to the Admiral,
laughing hysterically.
Chapter XXIX
THE LUCK OF A SIXPENCE
For a few moments, no other word was spoken,
and I did my best to control myself.
"And now, sir, what do you mean by entering
this house and battering down the door to a pri-
vate room ?" demanded Lord Howe of the young
officer before him. " 'T is an outrage the equal
of which I have never met. What do you mean
by it?" He spoke so sharply that the officer was
visibly affected.
"I regret to have intruded, Your Lordship—"
he began, but the Admiral cut him short.
"Cease naming your regrets," he snapped^
"Why did you break down the door? That is
what I wish to know."
"To find Allan McLane, Your Lordship," was
the answer. "He came into this house, that we
saw; and we have searched it until we reached
this room and found the door barred. He must
be in the house somewhere"; and the officer
looked about him keenly.
"Nay," returned the Admiral with equal posi-
tiveness, "wherever else he may be in the house,
I '11 vouch for it you '11 not find him in this room.
I 've been here myself a full half-hour." Then I
knew that, in the noise and confusion caused by
the battering down of the door, Lord Howe had
heard naught of Captain McLane's entering the
secret chamber.
The young officer shook his head in perplexity,
as well he might, but, seeing no sign of the man
he sought, he evidently decided it was useless to
go on with the matter.
"I have the honor to report, Your Lordship,"
1082
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
[Oct.,
he said, "that it was while looking for you, that I
fell in with McLane. General Howe, having
missed you, sent out several parties in search,
with instructions that he would await you at the
Shaw residence. I believe, Your Lordship, that
dinner is being delayed pending your arrival."
At the word "dinner," Lord Howe was mightily
cheered.
"Now at last you give me some good news, for
I am like to starve. Come ! We will go at once" ;
and he led the way down-stairs and out to the
portico, where a horse was brought for him.
"I have much to thank you for, Mistress Bea-
trice," he said to me at parting. "How much, I
am not quite sure, for there seems to have been
some mystery afoot, and I cannot flatter myself
into the belief that your alarms could have been
wholly on my account. Nevertheless, you have
given me an anchorage when I was in sore need
of one, and my services are ever at your com-
mand" ; and with that he kissed my hand as if I
had been a woman grown, and a moment later,
went clattering down the road with his escort of
troopers.
I felt so weary that I should have liked to seat
myself somewhere to have a minute's peace and
quiet ; but I had Captain McLane to think of, and
I went at once to the secret room to inform him
that he was free to go if he would.
"Aye, I 'm anxious enough to be off!" he cried,
when I had liberated him. "There are some Eng-
lish bigwigs scattered about the country here, and
I would dearly love to pick up one or two of
them ; but I must have a bite to eat."
I led him to the dining-room, whereupon, see-
ing the food on the table, he gave a cry of joy,
and set to work to finish it.
I could not help smiling a little when I thought
that here was Captain Allan McLane eating a
meal that had been prepared for Admiral Lord
Richard Howe ; surely 't was passing strange that
matters should thus arrange themselves.
Captain McLane caught me smiling.
"Are you laughing because I am eating some
one else's dinner?" he said, and I perforce nodded
an agreement.
"I heard the hubbub, of course, but could not
catch what was said. Who was the man ?" he
asked.
"Nay, I may not tell that," I answered.
"Well, I '11 not plague you," he went on. "You
look tired, and I doubt not this coming and going
of soldiers is hard on a maid. But there will be
little more of it. Sir Henry Clinton dares not
stay in Philadelphia long, and the country will
soon have a chance to recover itself. Now I 'm
off to meet John," he ended, rising.
"Where is he?" I asked as we left the room.
"He should be awaiting me with the troop on
the Manatawny road," he answered, on his way
to the door. "We have a little business to attend
to at Chestnut Hill before nightfall, and I must
hurry" ; and off he went with a word of good-by
and thanks.
I ran to my own room and threw myself on the
couch, for I was worn out with the excitement
and anxiety of the last hour. I wanted to be
alone for a little while, and I thought how pleas-
ant it would be to be back for a time in the peace
and quiet of the old Dower-House in England.
And that led me to remember Granny, and to
wonder what she and the boys would say if they
knew what I had been doing. In those few
minutes, I longed for her unspeakably. It would
be so comfortable if she were here to take me in
her arms and let me have a good cry.
It seemed as if I had come to the end of my
strength, but my hardest trial was.before me ; for,
as I longed for quiet, Mrs. Mummer rushed into
the room.
"We are lost, lost !" she cried. "There is an-
other troop of redcoats, and—"
"Nay, I care not," I interrupted. "Let them
come and do as they please. There is naught left
for them to take but the roof over our heads. Am
I never to have peace? I tell you I can do no
more, and we must e'en let them have their way."
"Are you daft, child !" she cried. " 'T is Cap-
tain Blundell, and he is after that very roof, for
he vows he is here to burn down the house !"
With a cry of horror I sprang to my feet.
"Oh, no, he will never do that !" I protested, but
all the while I knew this danger had been great
for a long time. Stories of how the enemy had
burned and ruined the houses and property of
other Whigs had reached us again and again, but
never had I thought it possible that the mansion
at Denewood could be destroyed. There was no
longing now for England or the old Dower-House.
That was forgotten in the sudden, realization of
the love I had for my new home, left in my care
by Brother John, who looked to me to preserve it.
"Come, rouse yourself, Miss Bee !" exclaimed
Mrs. Mummer. "Down to the man and beg his
mercy, if you have to go on your knees to him!
Anything is better than that the house should be
destroyed ! Please go to him before it is too late !
He has been asking for you."
"Willingly would I go down on my knees to
him," I answered her, "if it would save the place,
but it will not. Think you Captain Blundell
knows the meaning of mercy? He would but
laugh the louder. Nay, we must do something."
"Then cannot we find Master John or Captain
igi2.]
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
1083
McLane ?" Mrs. Mummer begged, for she loved
Denewood, and to think of it in flames nigh mad-
dened her.
"There is no hope there," I said. "They are off
to Chestnut Hill on some expedition ; but there
is some one else who will save it — if we have
time."
"He vowed he would eat first," said Mrs.. Mum-
mer, "but I said to myself that he should kill me
ere / give him food."
"Nay," I cried, "to feed him well is our only
hope. Go, Mrs. Mummer, and give him the best
you can find. Keep him at the table as long as
possible, for, with a little time, I may be able to
save Denewood" ; and I ran to the window to see
how matters stood there, for I wished to leave
without being seen.
But here an obstacle met. me at the very outset.
The grounds were filled with soldiers, and I could
see them carrying dry wood and paper to pile
about the stables and outbuildings in preparation
for their work of destruction. It would be im-
possible that I should not be seen the moment I
had quitted the house.
"We are lost !" I cried in despair, "for I cannot
get away without their stopping me."
"Oh, ye-ye-yes you ca-ca-can !" exclaimed little
Peggy, who entered just then. "Do you wa-wa-
want to, Bee?"
"Oh, yes, deary," I said, leaning down and put-
ting my arms about her. "I must get away to
save Denewood, but the soldiers will stop me."
But Peggy shook her head positively.
"No, not if you go by the mou-mou-mouse's
hole," she insisted, and then I remembered her
secret, and how she had let Captain McLane out.
"Show me the place at once, Peg; we have n't
a minute to waste" ; and without a word, she led
me to the nursery fireplace, explaining that she
had found it when hunting for the kitten one day.
Now, on either side of the fireplace were big
hobs where water could be kept hot or a posset
heated ; but they did not go quite back to the wall,
so that there was a space behind. Sharp to the
right was a ladder-like stair going down within
the wall of the house, which was pierced here and
there to give light.
"Where does it bring you?" I asked Peggy in a
whisper.
"Through the ho-ho-hole in the s-s-spring-
house where the wa-wa-water comes out," she
answered.
"Then go back," said I, "there is no need for
you to come."
"You '11 have to go-go-go on all f-f-fours,"
Peg went on excitedly, "but the wa-wa-water
is n't very de-de-deep. If you gather up your
s-s-skirts and take off your s-s-shoes and st-st-st-
stockings, you '11 be all right."
I kissed her hastily, and bidding her stay with
Mrs. Mummer, plunged into the narrow passage.
The steps were very steep and uneven, but I
stumbled down as fast as I could go, and came to
the water. I stopped not to remove my stockings,
as Peg had counseled, but, tucking up my gown,
splashed through as best I might, and at last ran
out through the spring-house to the shadow of
the surrounding trees.
I was free then to take my way as I would, and
at once made across the fields on a run to the
Shaw mansion, for there lay my onby hope.
By road I suppose it was a mile and a half,
perhaps more, but my way was shorter; and
though my dress was torn by the clinging briers,
and once or twice I stumbled and fell, I reached
there finally, much disheveled, and panting woe-
fully.
I came to the Shaw grounds at the back, and
hurried at once to the front, meaning to enter ;
but at the threshold, I was stopped by a soldier.
"I must see Lord Howe at once !" I said to him.
"He is here, is n't he?"
"Aye," answered the guard. "He and a dozen
more of the gentry are eating their fill while we
stand empty here — "
"Then let me in to see him," I interrupted.
"Hoity-toity !" he protested, holding me back
with a rigid arm, for I had pressed forward.
"Not so fast ! not so fast ! What is your errand?"
" 'T is not for your ears," I retorted.
"Then you '11 not get in," he replied shortly.
"Nay, but I must !" I cried desperately. " 'T is
a matter of life and death. But wait, give him
this," I ended, and snatched my half of the six-
pence and held it out.
The soldier took it in his great hand and looked
at it closely.
" 'T is a love-token," he said slowly. "I have
seen the like before, and 't is no great worth."
Then another guard joined him, and they talked
a minute together while I fumed and fretted,
wondering what I could do.
"If you do not give it to him at once," I called,
stamping my foot with anger and vexation, "he
will have you flogged."
• "Were it I," said the_ second man, with a shrug
of his shoulders, "I 'd get it to the Admiral,
not knowing whether I 'd be kicked or thanked
for my pains. The gentry are kittle cattle, but
you 're as like to be right one way as t' other."
With a grunt of annoyance, the man turned into
the house, and my bit of sixpence was on its way
to Admiral Howe.
I had not long to wait, for almost at once there
10.84
THE LUCKY SIXPENCE
was a muffled sound as of an exclamation of sur-
prise, the clatter of an overturned chair, and
Lord Howe came out to me.
"Who brought this?" he was shouting, but as
he caught sight of me, his face changed, and he
looked down anxiously.
"What is it, child? What is the matter? Art
hurt ?" and he pointed at my torn dress and
muddy boots.
"Nay, do not think of me," I answered, and
then, in as few words as I could manage, I told
him what had brought me.
At the end he said one word— "Wait !" Then
he turned back into the house. I heard him
shouting orders right and left, so that men came
running out. A bugle was blown, and I had
scarce gotten back my breath before there were
a score of troopers at the door, and Admiral
Howe was mounting his horse.
"Yon ride with me!" he cried, reaching down
a hand, and in less time than I can tell, I was
galloping toward Denewood on Lord Howe's sad-
dle-bow.
We talked little on the way, bending every
effort at speed, and at last we topped the rise
and Denewood lay before us.
As I looked down, a bitter cry broke from me,
for ascending to the clouds was the black smoke
of a newly kindled fire.
"I shall string the man to a yard-arm !" cried
the Admiral. "On, men, on !" he shouted, and
spurred his horse desperately.
On drawing nearer, it was plain that the man-
sion itself had not yet been fired, but as we rushed
up the drive, my fears increased, for I saw men
running into the house with bundles of straw,
and knew only too well what it portended.
Almost before we stopped, I leaped down and
ran into the hall ahead of the Admiral. There,
gathered about a great pile of trash heaped up at
the foot of the stairs, stood Blundell with a lighted
torch in his hand, while before him, with little
Peggy at her side, stood Mrs. Mummer, holding
out her trembling hands as she begged for mercy.
"Stop !" I cried, and, rushing up, snatched the
brand and flung it into the fireplace.
"So it is you, Mistress Beatrice !" he exclaimed,
as he recognized me. "You are just in time. And
because you have been so rude, you shall be my
deputy, and light the fire yourself."
"Would I not do as well ?" came the voice of
Lord Howe behind me, and at this Blundell, turn-
ing red, saluted.
"I had not expected to see Your Lordship," he
said.
"Aye, that I believe," replied the Admiral.
THE
"But now that I am here, Captain Blundell, 't is
my desire that you should take your soldiers and
depart."
"I crave pardon, Your Lordship," replied Blun-
dell, coolly, "but I have been ordered to burn all
such Whig houses, and sure there is no more
pestiferous establishment than this of John Trav-
ers. 'T is a rendezvous for all the rascally rebels
in the country."
"And I say it shall not be burned," thundered
Lord Howe. "Do you question my authority,
sir?"
"Nay, Your Lordship," answered Blundell, "if
you say that it shall be spared, that ends it. But,
as a matter of curiosity, I should like to know
why. Sure you must have some weighty reason
for this clemency."
"Nay, nothing weightier than the half of a six-
pence," Lord Howe answered, with a glance to-
ward me. "But that is sufficient," he went on
sternly, "and I shall expect you to remember that
it is my wish that this house shall not be mo-
lested."
With that, Blundell, saluting once more, took
his departure.
Truly it was with a full heart that I tried to
thank the Admiral for his promptness in coming
to my aid, though I fear 't was but a halting speech
I made him, for he stopped me in the midst of it.
"Nay, say no more, Mistress Beatrice," he cut
in, "shall we cry quits?"
"Oh, My Lord, I shall always— always— be your
debtor !" I answered.
"T is nicely put, my child," he said gently,
"but I think you owe me nothing, and I hope you
may say the same."
"Nay, you still have my half of the sixpence,"
I replied demurely.
"To be sure," he said with a laugh, and putting
his hand into his pocket, drew forth both halves,
and handed them to me.
" 'T was only my own piece I was thinking of,
Your Lordship," I hastened to say ; "you see the
Egyptian's prophecy was right, for 't was half a
sixpence saved Denewood."
"Aye, and an admiral," he replied. "But keep
them both, Mistress Beatrice. Some day you will
have need of my half, for, I hope, a better man
than I. And as to prophesying— I am no Egyp-
tian, but I '11 e'en venture to foretell the future
for you. 'When again the halves are parted, two
shall be made one.' Nay, puzzle not your head
over that now, but write it in your book of
Maxims to read in after years." And with that, he
kissed me, and a moment later took his leave.
END.
called the
chief scribes, and com-
manded them to write
down all his laws in a
great book, with a list
of crimes and their punishments, all carefully
indexed, so that anybody could find them ; and
then he began to look about for a suitable person
to rule in his place, while he was gone.
This proved to be a more difficult task than he
had expected ; until one day the Queen sug-
gested :
"Why do you not hold a contest? Propound a
difficult riddle, and let the successful guesser
thereof rule in your place. By this means, you
will be certain to leave your affairs in the hands
of your wisest subject."
The good sense of this arrangement instantly
appealed to the King, so, calling fleet messengers,
he sent them out to all parts of his kingdom, with
the following riddle:
"Why do not potatoes grow in January?"
As soon as it became known that the successful
guesser of this riddle was to rule in the King's
place while he was away, at an excellent salary,
the greatest excitement imaginable prevailed.
Wise men shut themselves up in their offices
and wrote and wrote and wrote. Wives helped
their husbands, and mothers helped their sons.
Doctors had no time to call upon patients, and
even lawyers refused to take cases. The paper-
mills ran day and night, to supply the-demand for
foolscap, and all the back streets and alleys were
littered with empty ink-bottles.
The mails became choked with the vast mass of
letters and rolls of manuscript, and a double force
of scribes worked day and night sorting and
classifying the correspondence.
A great many preferred to bring their answers
in person, and all day long, the weary King sat
upon his throne, listening while they read or re-
cited them, as they passed before him in an end-
less procession that began at sunrise and only
ended when the King declared he must be ex-
cused and go to bed.
A large number of those who came personally
were very certain they had the correct answer,
and waited with impatience for their turn.
One important-looking old fellow, in a loud
suit and flowing tie, strutted up when his name
was called, and shouted confidently :
"Because they can't get their eyes open."
The King gasped, and reached for his smelling-
salts.
"Throw him down the clothes-chute !" he com-
manded sternly. "Next."
"Please, Your Majesty," remarked the next con-
testant, a little, wrinkled man with a bald head
and enormous spectacles, "it is a well-known
scientific fact that all articles contract with cold ;
therefore, it is impossible — "
"Next," interrupted the King.
So it went on, day after day, until nearly all the
answers were in, and the King began to grow
nervous, for fear he should not get his vacation
after all ; for no one appeared able to guess the
riddle.
Now it happened that nobody had thought it
worth while to say anything about the King's rid-
dle to the gardener, for he was a common, unedu-
cated old fellow who spent his time trimming the
rose-trees and pushing the lawn-mower ; and
when the King appeared in the gardens one day,
looking tired and worn, the kind-hearted old
workman inquired the cause of his trouble.
"Because no one can guess my riddle," sighed
the King.
"It must be very hard," remarked the gardener.
"Not a bit of it!" snapped the King; "the
easiest thing in the world. 'Why do not potatoes
grow in January?' "
"They do grow in January— in some places,"
explained the gardener, snipping away at the
rose-tree.
The King nearly turned a back somersault in
1085
1086
THE KING'S VACATION
[Oct.,
his astonishment, for this was the correct answer;
and, seizing the gardener's rough hand in his
own, he explained all about the contest, and con-
gratulated him upon his great good-fortune.
"But I don't want to be king !" protested the
gardener. "I did n't guess your old riddle on
purpose."
"That does not make a particle of difference !"
All that day and the next, the sky remained
blue and the soft breezes gently whispered
through the rigging ; but the third day, a terrific
tempest came down upon them from the north,
driving the ship before it, and, at last, casting
her, a wreck, upon a rocky shore.
Such of the passengers as escaped with their
lives were made slaves by the fierce old king of
SO IT WENT ON, DAY AFTER DAY, UNTIL NEARLY ALL THE ANSWERS WERE IN.
shouted the King, gleefully. "You guessed it all
right, and now you are going to take the job,
whether you like it or not."
"But your crown is too big for me !" cried the
gardener, catching at a straw.
"Put a cushion inside of it, then," laughed the
King. "The lining is badly worn anyhow, and that
will keep your forehead from getting scratched."
Seeing there was no help for it, the gardener
slowly removed his apron and walked solemnly
off toward his cottage, to break the news to his
wife ; while the King hastened back to the palace,
to. tell the Queen to pack the trunks at once, so
that they could start early the next morning.
Long before sunrise, the King and Queen,
dressed in ordinary citizens' clothes, slipped
quietly out of a side door of the palace, and were
soon safely on board a merchant ship bound for
foreign lands, laughing and chatting merrily,
all the cares of state forgotten and with nothing
on their minds but to have a good time.
that country, the King being set to helping the
cook, and the Queen to polishing door-knobs in
the royal palace.
In the meantime, the old gardener was not hav-
ing a very much better time of it.
The courtiers and nobles were much chagrined
at having so uncouth and obstinate an old person-
age set over them ; so they set their heads to-
gether, at the earliest opportunity, to make all the
trouble possible. . -
They knew very well that the forty mischievous
pages, who served in the palace, were the bane of
the gardener's life, for they had often seen him
running after them to box their ears for pulling
his flowers or robbing birds'-nests ; so they slyly
suggested new pranks to play on the Vice-King,
as the gardener was now called, and then stood
by, with shocked faces, while the youngsters car-
ried them out.
When the new ruler appeared, feeling very stiff
and uncomfortable in his tight boots and kingly
igi2.]
THE KING'S VACATION
1087
robes, the two pages whose duty it was to stand
behind him, quietly drew back the throne, as he
was about to seat himself, and he came down, in
a most undignified heap, upon the floor, while his
crown slipped off and rolled out among the cour-
tiers.
Forgetting all about his new office, the Vice-
King leaped to his feet and ran after his tor-
mentors, chasing them round and round the
council-chamber, and out upon the palace
grounds; where, having at last succeeded in com-
ing up with them, he knocked their heads to-
gether until they roared, and then came back,
very much out of breath, and resumed his place.
Several important matters were awaiting his
attention, when it was suddenly discovered that
the book of the law was nowhere to be found.
So the cases before him had to be dismissed
until the lost volume could be recovered.
chance to advance' his own fortunes, took the
Vice-King aside and confidentially suggested that
what he needed was a competent adviser, with
full power to act. ■
The exasperated Vice-King was only too will-
ing to adopt any means of getting out of his
difficulties, and appointed the courtier Chief Ad-
viser upon the spot.
He soon had cause enough to regret his de-
cision, however, for the crafty courtier, whose
name was Bpunterwin, immediately took every-
thing into his own vigorous hands, leaving the
Vice-King nothing to do but sit on the throne and
look wise.
When the pages started in as usual, snapping
paper wads at the courtiers and each other, Boun-
terwin ordered them sent out to weed the royal
onion beds, where, under severe taskmasters, they
worked and shed tears all day long.
'THE KING NEARLY TURNED A BACK SOMERSAULT IN HIS ASTONISHMENT.
The next morning, things were no better ; for
the pages, having decided to go upon a picnic,
had departed early with their lunch-baskets and
fishing-rods, and there was no one to deliver the
Vice-King's commands.
So things went irom bad to worse ; until one
day a wily courtier, who thought he saw a good
The housemaids, who had decided that if 'a
gardener could be Vice-King, they could, at least,
be fine ladies, were all sent back to their places;
the farmers, who had all set up fc*r country gen-
tlemen, with horses and hounds, were ordered
back to their plows ; while the millers, who had all
gone into politics and were making more trouble
1088
THE KING'S VACATION
[Oct.,
than anybody else, were given' the choice of start-
ing their water-wheels to turning or of going to
the royal dungeons.
So there was no longer danger of starvation in
the land.
Bounterwin next turned his attention to public
improvements.
Roads were built, and libraries and museums of
art established in every city. Great ball parks
of free drinking-fountains throughout the king-
dom, the old King and Queen, who had somehow
managed to escape and get back, slipped unob-
served into the palace, and dressed themselves in
their royal robes.
Now it happened that the Vice-King (who
knew all about how things were going but was
powerless to stop the mischief, because Bounter-
win had shared some of his ill-gotten gains with
"'YOU APPEAR TO HAVE TAKEN GOOD CARE OF IT, REMARKED THE KING.
were laid out and games held, free to all the
people.
So everybody was soon shouting the praises of
Bounterwin. They did not know that every time
he drew a check upon the royal treasury, to pay
for these things, half of the money went into his
own pockets.
When the royal treasury was empty, he began
taxing the people ; but, while they complained
some at this, they still continued to point to his
various works with pride, and to think him a very
great man indeed.
The old King had now been gone so long that
everybody supposed him dead; so while the iron
rule of Bounterwin and his many taxes pressed
heavily upon them, the people were obliged to be
satisfied, though they were far from happy or
contented.
One night, while the Chief Adviser was busily
engaged in figuring up his profit on an installation
the more powerful courtiers, and thus made them
his friends) lay tossing and worrying upon his
bed, when he thought he heard a noise down-
stairs.
Drawing his pruning-shears from beneath his
pillow, where he always kept them, he crept cau-
tiously down, and when he discovered that the
sounds he had heard were the voices of the re-
turned King and Queen, talking over the happy
surprise they would give their subjects in the
morning, he was so overcome with joy that his
hair, which had grown quite gray, instantly turned
bright red again, and he rushed up-stairs, four
steps at a time, to put on his best suit.
He determined to lose no time in acquainting
the King with the exact condition of affairs ; so,
as soon as he was dressed, he hastened down-
stairs again, and knocked upon the door of the
royal bedchamber.
"Come in," called the well-known voice; upon
igia.]
THE KING'S VACATION
1089
which the Vice-King pushed open the door and
advanced, with the crown in his hand, and pre-
sented it to the King.
"You appear to have taken good care of it,*'
remarked the King, after looking it over care-
fully and placing it upon his head, to see if it
felt natural.
After expressing the hope that both the King
and Queen had enjoyed good health and had a
pleasant journey, the ex- Vice-King started in and
related all that had occurred during their ab-
sence, and how Bounterwin had planned to take
the crown and declare himself king the very next
morning.
"But he would not have been able to do that,"
concluded the old man, chuckling; "for I hid the
crown in the piano last night, and only took it out
when I saw you had returned."
After complimenting him upon his shrewdness,
the King remained thoughtful for some time;
then he spoke :
"Say nothing to any person whatsoever about
my return," he said. "Go quietly to the houses of
the royal guards and order each of them to report
at the council-chamber at sunrise, well armed."
When Bounterwin appeared at the palace the
next morning, he was surprised and infuriated to
find the guards assembled without his orders.
"What are you here for?" he demanded angrily.
"To arrest you, unhappy wretch !" shouted the
King, stepping from behind a curtain.
The guards immediately fell upon the culprit
and loaded him with chains, and while he was
borne off, struggling and begging for mercy, and
the courtiers who had been his friends stood
trembling in their shoes, everybody else crowded
about the King, shouting for joy at his safe re-
turn.
The King's first act was to release the misera-
ble pages from their work in the royal onion beds,
and, after they had all been thoroughly bathed and
supplied with new clothes, they appeared in the
council-chamber, still rubbing their eyes, but very
happy to get back.
Then the King took all the wealth of Bounter-
win and out of it returned to every person the
taxes he or she had unjustly been made to pay,
putting the rest in the royal treasury.
As for Bounterwin himself, the King was quite
undecided what his punishment should be; but,
after inspecting some of the work that he had ac-
complished, he decided to spare his life. But he
was stripped of his titles, and of all his rich trap-
pings and jewels, and was then given the lowliest
of all the offices in the royal palace— that of
cleaning and regumming canceled postage-stamps.
l'roin ;i painting by Charles C. Curr;
Vol. XXXIX. -137.
Copyright by Robf. Chapman Cu
THE BREAKFAST PARTY.
.-...,:
v.
By permission of Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City.
A GENERAL AND ADJUTANT.
FAMOUS PICTURES
SIXTH PAPER— HISTORICAL PAINTING
BY CHARLES L. BARSTOW
In producing a historical painting, the artist has
a great many things to think of besides making
a beautiful picture.
For, in addition to that, he must tell a story.
He cannot narrate a succession of events as a
writer can do, but he must select one single mo-
ment, and in that moment show us all that is to be
represented.
Such pictures are much more complicated than
those we have considered thus far. Usually many
figures are introduced, and the principal ones
must be actual portraits of the characters, and
must suggest their whole life in pose and gesture.
All the costumes must be historically correct —
often a matter of great difficulty.
When an artist has selected the moment to pre-
sent, and has assured himself about the accuracy
of everything concerned, which may have meant
the reading of many volumes about the times and
events, he may still fail unless he has caught and
can show the spirit of the scene in a way to in-
spire the beholder.
Our moving pictures, where thousands of sepa-'
rate photographs passing in rapid succession give
us an actual occurrence, convey much less than
the painter of a legendary or historical subject
tries to do, for he may give us not merely a scene,
but the spirit of an age.
Many historical pictures have been painted by
royal command, to perpetuate the deeds of great
men or events of national life, and are more valu-
able to us now as records of the times than as
works of art. Such are many of the huge can-
vases in the royal palaces of Europe.
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1092
FAMOUS PICTURES
[Oct.,
"FRIEDLAND, 1807"
By Jean Louis Ernest Meissonier of the French School
(Born 1815, died 1891)
One of the most important parts of each of Meis-
sonier's magnificent homes was his stable. He
loved horses, and they appear in many of his
pictures. His drawing of them was wonderfully
correct, and he spared no pains in studying them.
He had a track built on which a tram-car ran,
and, as he rode in the smoothly moving car, pen-
cil in hand, he would have the horses put through
their paces, in a course parallel with the track, while
he kept beside them, noting down every action.
His patience in perfecting every part of a pic-
ture was inexhaustible. "I never hesitate about
scraping out the work of days," he said, "and be-
ginning afresh, so as to try and do better. Ah !
that 'better' which one feels in one's soul, and
without which no true artist is ever content !
Others may approve and admire ; but that counts
for nothing compared with one's own feeling of
what ought to be."
He would often work out-of-doors twelve hours
a day, scarcely stopping to eat. Success and
wealth never made any difference in his industry.
For example, he wished to make a picture of a
horseman in a strong wind. As he often did, he
first made a beautiful wax model of the horse and
rider. The rider's cloak and hat and other ap-
parel were made from the real materials, and
carefully adjusted. Then, in order to get the effect
of the wind on the cloak, he dipped it into thin
glue and placed it where the wind would blow it
until it became stiff, keeping the shape he wanted
to paint.
Such things alone would not insure good pic-
tures, but Meissonier's great success was in a
measure due to this wonderful exactness which
gave a sense of reality to his pictures, especially
to his small interiors.
The picture before us, "Friedland, 1807," is one
of the uncompleted series portraying scenes from
the life of Napoleon, and is his most celebrated
work. It was in his studio for fourteen years.
It is said that every figure was made from a sepa-
rate model, and that, in order to paint the tram-
pled grain as it would really appear, he bought a
field of wheat and hired a troop of cuirassiers to
charge through it, he himself riding beside them,
and carefully noting the attitudes of men and
horses.
This is, indeed, realism, and we see from the
result that he did get a feeling of tremendous
reality into the picture. We are convinced that it
is a real scene— no one could have painted it
without drawing directly from the figures.
In order to fit himself for painting battle scenes,
Meissonier, upon the outbreak of the war between
Austria and Sardinia, in 1859, obtained permission
from the emperor, Napoleon III, the ally of the
Sardinians, to accompany the French army to the
seat of war. He was present at the great battle
of Solferino. When the Franco-Prussian War
came, in 1870, Meissonier was one of the first to
offer his services to his country, and during the
siege of Paris, he occupied a high position on the
staff of the National Guard.
In referring to "Friedland," the artist said: "I
did not intend to paint a battle. I wanted to paint
Napoleon at the zenith of his glory. . . . The men
and the emperor are in the presence of each
other. The soldiers cry out to him that they are
his, and the great chief, whose imperial will di-
rects the masses that move around him, salutes his
devoted army."
Unlike many of his "great little pictures," this
one is painted on a canvas eight feet wide by
four and one half feet high. It was sold by the
artist to the late A. T. Stewart for $60,000, and
at the sale of the Stewart collection, was bought
for an even larger sum and presented to the
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, where it
now hangs.
We have seen that Meissonier strove with in-
finite care faithfully to reproduce the scenes he
painted. But this very quality has led to unfa-
vorable criticism, for many artists do not believe
that this is the way to present a subject. As one
writer has recently expressed it : "The artist
should not try to make everything just as he
knows it really is, but as the scene looks to him
from the place where he is."
If you will examine the picture of "Friedland,"
you will see that the details of dress and feature
are fully carried out at the right and left sides
of the picture as well as in the center. Ask your-
self the question whether, from any one point of
view, any one eye could really see all these de-
tails at one time. I think you will agree that it
would be impossible. Then, to put everything
into a picture, is to represent what the artist could
not have seen at any one time, and, therefore, all
the tremendous labor of presenting everything as
it really was, does not, after all, give a true view
of the scene as viewed by the human eye.
And if it is not true, then it is not the right
way to do it. If you watch a person walk down
the street, you will observe that, as the figure goes
away, one thing after another, that you could see
when it was near, disappears and is blended into
the general mass. Near by you can see the but-
tons on the coat, the wrinkles in the sleeve, the
band on the hat, and, if you are drawing the
igi2.]
FAMOUS PICTURES
1093
By permission of Franz Hanfstaengl, N'
THE ROADSIDE INN
figure near at hand, those things would all be
indicated. But if you wished truly to represent,
the figure some yards away, you would not put in
those things which you knew were there, but
could not see; but would draw it as it looked to
you at that distance. If you did not, it would
not appear in its true relation to the other things
around it. The eye can see only a limited field
at a time.
While Meissonier probably made a mistake in
1094
FAMOUS PICTURES
this respect, he was so really wonderful in many
others that he is accepted as a great painter, and
this criticism, which we can understand, should
help us in estimating not only his painting, but
that of other artists.
ANECDOTES OF MEISSONIER
The life of Meissonier reads like a fairy tale.
He ran the gamut from extreme poverty to
wealth that enabled him to have in lavish profu-
sion everything he desired. His mother died
when he was ten years old, and between him and
his father there was little sympathy or under-
standing. Although in prosperous circumstances,
his father gave the lad but a slight education, and
secured for him at seventeen a position with a
tradesman.
Here Meissonier swept the shop, waited upon
customers, and became an unwilling but faithful
clerk. He had always wished to study art, and
finally his father agreed to give him a week in
which to find a painting master, and a year in
which to show whether he really had any talent.
"At the end of that time, if you have not suc-
ceeded, you go back to the shop," was the warning.
He did not find a master, but was finally ad-
mitted to a studio, and there worked hard for
several months. During this time, his father
allowed him ten cents a day for food, and invited
him to eat his Wednesday dinners at home.
Many a time, when Meissonier was nearly
starving, he would go to his father's house for
his weekly visit after dinner instead of before,
because he was too proud to appear to be in
need of his father's niggardly assistance.
Later, Meissonier got a place in the studio of
Leon Cogniet, and there he had for fellow-pupils
Daubigny, destined to become one of the world's
great landscape artists, and other strong, young
painters. Still in the grip of poverty, he painted
fans and bonbon boxes for a living, and is said
to have painted canvas at a dollar a yard.
Although Meissonier did not complain of these
hardships, in after life he refused to talk of his
early days. He was not bitter at the time, for he
is quoted as saying, "Is it possible to be unhappy
when one is twenty, when life is all before one,
when one has a passion for art, a free pass to the
Louvre, and sunshine gratis?" Meissonier satis-
fied his father that he really had talent, and he
was never compelled to "go back to the shop."
Before he was twenty, he had exhibited in the
Salon. After this, he made a short journey to
Rome, and on his return he established himself
as an illustrator. As his reputation grew, his
ability to make money increased, and at twenty-
tight he was married and the head of a household
of his own, although the home was, at first, a
modest one.
Artists care very much for the opinion of their
brother artists. Meissonier, it is said, thought
very highly of the opinion of Chenavard, a well-
known painter from Lyons and much older than
he. Once, when he came to visit Meissonier's
studio, he examined all his canvases carefully,
pausing for a long time before one of a violin-
player. All the pictures, except the violin-player,
were similar in idea and treatment to many other
pictures to be seen in the Louvre and elsewhere.
"Do you expect," said Chenavard, "to do these
things better than Raphael and Michelangelo?"
But in the little violin-player Meissonier's guest
saw something original and individual, and from
that time our artist devoted himself almost en-
tirely to painting those little scenes from every-
day life which brought him wealth and fame.
His work was distinct and individual in at least
two respects : first, he generally used very small
canvases, some of them no bigger than his hand ;
and, second, he carried out every detail of his
work with the most minute fidelity and care.
Meissonier was also a great collector, and when
his paintings began to bring him fabulous prices,
he bought all kinds of antiques— so lavishly, in
fact, that he often had very little ready money.
He built a magnificent house in Paris and a fine
country place at Poissy. He was happier at home
than anywhere else, and made few journeys.
Some one once said to him, "You are rich— you
can have as many of Meissonier's paintings as
you like." "No," he said, "I cannot afford to have
them; they have become too expensive for me."
We always like to know what a great man has
said about his work, and how he feels about other
things that are of interest to every one. Fortu-
nately, Meissonier left a record of many of his
feelings and opinions, published as his "Conver-
sations." Of all the painters, Rembrandt was his
favorite.
Among his sayings were the following :
" ' Let well enough alone ' is the motto of the lazy."
"The man who leaves good work behind adds to the in-
heritance of the human race."
" The master is an artist whose works never recall those
of some other artist."
" I would have drawing made the basis of education in
all schools. It is the universal language."
" No artist would paint if he knew he was never to show
his work, if he felt no human eye would ever rest upon it."
" I never sign a picture until my whole soul is satisfied
with my work."
" ' To will is to do ' has been my motto. I have always
willed. Oh ! how I regret the lost time that can never be
made up. As I grow older, I work harder than ever."
By permission of Braun-Clement, New York City.
THE READER.
By permission of Franz Hanfstaengl, New York City.
A CAVALIER.
I rlli. blljN r*AlN 1 c-r
By permission of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City.
THE BROTHERS VAN DE VELDE.
A LITTLE GALLERY OF MEISSONIER PICTURES.
THE ANNUAL MOONLIGHT HOP IN BEETLEBURG.
1096
"PLAY BALL!"
BY ARTHUR CHAMBERLAIN
If you 've made a bad beginning,
If the batsmen all go wrong,
If the other team is winning, —
That 's the time to play up strong !
You know you made a fumble ?
Well, keep your head, and wait !
Just watch the ball; don't grumble ! —
You have it ! Send it straight !
Don't fuss about the scoring,
Don't weaken at the din ;
Let others do the roaring;
You— play the game to win !
And when life's conflicts meet you-
They come to one and all —
Don't let your fears defeat you ;
Keep steady, and "play ball !"
PLAYING THE GAME
{A sequel to " The Battle of Base-ball" )
BY C. H. CLAUDY
Chapter V
THE LITTLE THINGS THAT WIN BALL GAMES
In the Major Leagues, the race is usually so close
that it is the little things, rather than the big
ones, which tip the scales at the end and crown
one side with final victory while the other goes
down to defeat. The batting averages and field-
ing percentages of teams as a whole do not differ
in magnitude as much as the winning and losing
percentages.
In 191 1, the Philadelphia Athletics finished the
race with a winning percentage of .669, while the
St. Louis Browns, the "cellar champions," or tail-
enders, doubtless looked with disgust at their
mark of .248 for the season.
Yet Philadelphia's fielding percentage, as a
club, was .964 against St. Louis' .945, and Phila-
delphia's batting average, as a club, was .297
against St. Louis' .248. That it is not the batting
alone which wins games is easily seen by a com-
parison of the batting averages of a number of
clubs as a whole with their winning percentages.
At the end of the 191 1 season, the standing of
the American League clubs, with their percen-
tages and the positions of the clubs according to
their batting and fielding percentages, differed in
a remarkable way, as the following table shows :
Vol. XXXIX. -138.
1097
1098
PLAYING THE GAME
[Oct.,
PERCENTAGE CLUB" BATTING CLUB FIELDING
.669
297 (I)
964 (i)
•578
291 (2)
953 (4 or 5)
• 523
282 (3)
955 (3)
■ 5099
269 (6)
960 (2)
.5098
276 (4)
949 (6)
.500
270 (S)
948 (7)
.416
259 (7)
•953 (4 or 5)
.296
248 (8)
945 (8)
Philadelphia
Detroit . .
Cleveland
Chicago .
Boston
New York .
Washington
St. Louis
Both Boston and New York outbatted Chicago,
yet finished below the White Sox. Washington
fielded exactly as well as Detroit, yet finished
seventh to Detroit's second. Philadelphia made
not quite five more hits per hundred chances
than St. Louis, and St. Louis missed but fifty-five
fielding chances out of every thousand, while
Philadelphia was missing thirty-six chances out
of every thousand. Yet one finished first and the
other last !
The statistics of the National League race give
even more surprising comparisons. Consider
these figures, if any further proof be needed that
it is the small things in base-ball which decide
the close race, rather than the big things.
PERCENTAGE CLUB BATTING CLUB FIF.LDING
New York ...
647
.279 (1)
•959 (6)
Chicago ....
597
.260 (5)
.gbo (4 or 5)
Pittsburgh .
552
.262 (3)
.qbj, (1 or 2)
Philadelphia
520
.259 (b)
•9b3 (I or 2)
St. Louis
503
■252 (7)
.900 (4 or 5)
Cincinnati
458
.261 (4)
•955 (7)
Brooklyn
427
•237(8)
•962 (3)
Boston ....
291
.2b7 (2)
•947 (8)
Here we have the remarkable fact, graphically
presented, that the championship winner had a
fielding percentage worse than five other teams ;
that Boston, which finished last, batted better
than Chicago, which finished second ; and that
exactly twelve points in both batting and fielding
separated the leader and the last contestant in this
race, while in the American League the Browns
finished forty-seven points behind the leaders in
batting, and nineteen behind them in fielding !
But it is also remarkable how closely the rec-
ords of the two winners bore out their perform-
ance in the World Series— Philadelphia had won
its race by a larger margin, batting and fielding
better than had New York in its race, and the
Athletics won in the World's Series by both out-
hitting and outfielding the Giants.
What, then, did win these pennants, if it cannot
be laid always to batting and fielding superiority?
"Little things" is the answer— little bits of
strategy, of keenness, of being able to take in-
stant advantage of the opportunity, of speed
when speed was essential, of being able to do the
right thing at the right time. For instance, Phila-
delphia, in the American League, led the League
in the number of sacrifices; — in the ability to
"come through" with the sacrifice fly, or the sac-
rifice bunt, when a man was on the bases and
needing advancement. Philadelphia had less as-
sists than any other club, showing a greater num-
ber of individual put-outs. More men were struck
out by their pitchers ; more men were put out on
grounders fielded by the man who made the put-
out ; more men were retired by a caught fly or
foul ; in other words, Philadelphia was a light-
ning-fast team.
You don't have to look very far to find out
what made New York win the pennant, other
than its general batting performance. It was
stolen bases ! New York stole 347 bases during
the season — or two and a quarter bases per game !
Here it was speed and the instant taking advan-
tage of opportunity which won ; and at the pres-
ent writing, New York is off to such a flying
start of hitting and base-running and run-getting,
that there looks to be little chance of any team
overtaking it for the 1912 pennant. Yet, as the
records show, in batting and fielding there is lit-
tle to choose between New York and several
other teams which that team beat out decidedly.
Now, the little things which win ball games
and the ability to take advantage of the openings
are characteristics of the keen base-ball general.
Wherefore the stranger to the game might be
led to inquire whether the leaders of the leading
teams are recognized as great base-ball generals,
and, if so, are they so recognized whether they
win or not?
And the answer is most emphatically, "Yes !"
John McGraw is generally conceded to have no
rival as a leader, as a planner, as a strategist, as
a possessor of the ability to find the opening and
take advantage of it for a gain at every oppor-
tunity. And although McGraw does not always
win pennants, his team is almost always in the
race, and, win or lose, every team fears him, and
his uncanny ability to lead, to stem defeat, to
find talent and develop it, and to get the most
from his men.
At the present writing, "Rube" Marquard, the
great left-hander, has won only eighteen victories
for New York. Still, as he has pitched only eigh-
teen games, this may be considered quite a fair
record ! A few years ago, Marquard was re-
garded by all New York as a failure. He could
not win. And the fans in the stands, both unrea-
soning and without knowledge, implored McGraw
to get rid of Marquard. But McGraw knew abil-
ity when he saw it. He held on. He pitched
Marquard. He taught him, encouraged him, had
confidence in him; Last year, Marquard led his
League as the best pitcher of them all. This year
igi2.]
PLAYING THE GAME
1099
he is, so far, beating all records as a pitching
wonder.
Connie Mack, of Philadelphia, does not always
win pennants, either. But he is always planning
to win pennants, and, following the collapse of
the great Philadelphia team of 1905, he built up
a new one to win in 1910 and 191 1. No one
knows, yet, whether it is to repeat in 1912, or not,
but it looks very much as if the bad start was to
end in a good finish. Connie Mack is known as
a leader whose greatest strong point— among a
great many strong ones — is the ability to "size
up" a player before he has developed, and then
get hold of him and develop him. His present
great infield — Mclnnis, Collins, Barry, and Baker
— all young men, all recent acquisitions in the Big
League, are cases in point, since none of them
had any reputation at all before they "made good"
in the present World's Championship team. But
Connie Mack also knows the game, knows when
to take advantage of an opportunity, knows the
opportunity when he sees it, and sees that his
players know it, too.
So the answer to the question, "How can we
win ball games ?" which every player and every
manager is always asking himself, is contained
in the answer: "Have a leader who can lead;
obey that leader ; take advantage of every chance ;
be speedy, and 'play the ball' " ; just as much as it
is in the obvious advice to outhit and outrun the
other team. As the statistics have shown, the
outhitting team does not always win !
The same advice which serves for Major
Leaguers must also be the guide for the team of
lads none of whom has reached his full strength
or speed. Of course, if you can outhit, outrun,
and outfield all your opponents, you do not need
to be told how to win games. But if, in your
junior league, the race is close; if the other
teams are hitting and fielding as well as you are,
then it will be with you, as with the Big Leaguers
—that team which knows the most "inside ball,"
and takes best advantage of the little things, will
win the game.
It is obvious that you cannot know with cer-
tainty just where you stand with relation to the
other clubs you play, if you don't keep score and
records. Boys are willing to practise hard and
work faithfully to be worthy of the position they
play. So it is no longer an unheard-of thing for
a boy to keep his own record, if his team has no
official scorer to do it for him. Sometimes the
boys' team does have an "official scorer," and there
are usually some lads who, for one reason or an-
other, cannot play, and the gentle art of scoring a
game, if well learned, is a real art. And from
the score the record sheets are to be made up,
the principal items of which are the times at bat
and the hits— to get the batting average — and the
chances and the errors— to get the fielding per-
centage.
If no one keeps score of your games, keep your
own individual record. It is not hard to remem-
ber the number of chances you have and the
number of errors you make; putting these down
every evening at home, together with the number
of times legally at bat and the number of hits,
will give you an excellent basis to find out what
you really do, and where you really need to work
hardest for improvement.
"Too much to remember !" Oh, no ! You don't
really do so many things in a ball game as you
may, perhaps, think. A first baseman in the
American League averaged, in sixty-three games,
615 put-outs — just a little less than ten put-outs
per game. He had not quite forty assists, or a
trifle over six assists in every ten games. He
only made ten errors, or one every six games.
Now, you don't have to remember the number
of games, because you build that up, one by one,
at night. You have, then, to remember only the
put-outs, the assists, and the errors. But any
other position figures out about the same from
the memory standpoint. A short-stop in the
American League averaged, . in eighty-eight
games, 203 put-outs, mostly at second base, or
less than three per game. He had 295 assists, or
less than four per game, and made thirty-four
errors for the season, or three in every ten games.
That would not be so much to remember on the
average, would it?
Now the matter of errors is one of judgment—
put-outs and assists are matters of rule. There is
not the least use in the world in trying to carry a
record of your performance if you "favor your-
self." Don't keep the record for any one else to
look at. Keep it for yourself. And don't call a
muffed ball a hit just because it hit you on the
shins and bounced over your head. Note your
errors, too, and list them separately under "Fum-
bles," "Boots," "Bad throws," and "Dropped
balls," and it will not take you long to find out
just where you really stand as a fielder, and what
you need to practise on.
One lad did this all last year. This year I
found him, evening after evening, bouncing a
ball against a wall at an angle and patiently div-
ing after it, fielding it, and throwing it instantly
at a mark on the wall. Then he would pick up
the ball, go back again to his position, pitch the
ball against the wall, field it, and again throw it.
"What in the world are you doing, Jack ?" I
asked.
"Fielding balls to my left," he answered. "Last
1100
PLAYING THE GAME
[Oct.,
year I made a lot of fumbles that way, and often
I stumbled and made a wide throw. In this way I
get practice on balls to my left, and that mark on
the wall is the first baseman."
The boys in the neighborhood tell me that Jack
is about the best short-stop they ever had. I
wonder how much of it is due to his keeping a
record and trying to correct the one thing he did
with the least success until he conquered it?
FIG. I. PLAYERS NUMBERED FOR SCORING PURPOSES.
The dotted line shows the memory path by which the order is to be recalled, and the
fact that the line goes continuously about the diamond and outfield.
Of course, every boy knows how a game is
scored, but how to do it himself is another matter.
Yet keeping a score is not a difficult matter, if
you have a system and follow it. The trouble
with so many amateur attempts to keep a score
is caused by three things : first, not having a com-
plete system and inventing new symbols as the
play comes up, and then forgetting what they
stand for ; second, trying to keep more complete
scores than you need to keep ; and, third, getting
so excited over the game that you forget to put
things down as they happen !
There are almost as many ways of keeping
score as there are people who do the scoring:
One spectator contents himself with keeping the
runs. Another keeps the runs, hits, and errors.
A third keeps a record of every play, but pays no
attention to put-outs and assists under the field-
ers' column. Another keeps a score so complete
in every detail that he can tell you just how many
balls were pitched to each batter, just which
ones were balls and which strikes; and of the
strikes, which were actual strikes and which
"called" ; and of batted balls, just how many times
each ball bounded on the turf, and, if it was a
hit, which player it went nearest to. In fact,
such people score so interestedly that the game
to them is merely an intricate puzzle
of base-ball shorthand, paper, and
pencil; and they are so busy writing
down the plays, they never have time
to cheer.
The best system for the average
player to use, and for the average
spectator as well, is one which fills
out the score card sufficiently but does
not try to trace the path of every ball
all over the diamond. At least, that
is the system most used, and while
every one invents his own symbols
for special plays, all have certain fun-
damental principles which are alike.
In the first place, all systems number
the players. Probably the most com-
mon one is that which follows the
diamond, as in Fig. I. The list, which
is easily memorized according to the
diagram, calls pitcher i, catcher 2, first
baseman 3, second baseman 4, third
baseman 5, short-stop 6, left-fielder 7,
center-fielder 8, right-fielder 9. In
scoring any play by means of these
numbers, the order of the numbers
indicates the order in which the ball
was handled. Therefore 4-3 in the
little space where the play at first
base is indicated, shows that the
the ball, that the second baseman
fielded it, and that the first baseman received it
and made the put-out. The hyphen can readily
be omitted and 43 mean the play.
Letters form the symbols for many things.
Thus "L" is foul, the figure after it showing who
caught it, "K" is struck out, "S," in the center
diamond, is sacrifice hit or fly— which one it is, is
shown by the symbol and figure in the first base
space — "S" in second, third, or home square
shows a steal, "E" is error, and FC anywhere
shows that the runner reached that station on a
fielder's choice.
In addition to the numbers and letters there
are certain symbols which have arbitrary mean-
ings—these the scorer can invent for himself, or
he can use those that custom has sanctioned. Fig.
2 shows a number of these and gives their meaning.
batter hit
1012.]
PLAYING THE GAME
1101
/ One-base hit to right.
~\ One-base hit to center.
"^^ One-base hit to left.
\/ Scratch hit to right.
. Scratch hit to center, which
4|6 short-stop and second let
drop between them.
\y Scratch hit to left.
—14— Two-base hit to center.
// Two-base hit to right.
\\ Two-base hit to left.
"J I j " Three-base hit to center.
'/// Three-base hit to right.
\^y Three-base hit to left.
4444- Home run to center.
■VAX i Home run to left.
//// Home run to right.
.../""Home run over right field
//// fence.
I Line fly.
Pop fly (if caught, the fielder's num-
ber goes into it ; if a Texas I -eaguer
hit, the hit sign goes under it).
Grounder.
High fly.
Batter singled, stole, was hit home (hit
will be in a square below), play was
made at the plate for him, ball being
thrown by left-fielder to catcher, who
made an error, allowing the score.
Batter singles to left and takes second
on the throw in to catch a man going
home to the plate or going to third
from second. Is not a two-base hit.
Two-base hit in the scoring square show-
ing that a play was made for the run-
ner at second base.
Batter has hit a one-base hit to center,
but is out, center-fielder to second
baseman, trying to stretch it into two
bases.
Foul, catcher ran to right and
caught it.
Foul, catcher ran back to
^i Foul, catcher ran to left to
J»<- catch it.
TT r* Fielder's choice.
i An attempt at a bunt, which
^-pTs. turned into a fly caught by
the pitcher.
1~z
f
—\l
^ —
M
53
Left on base.
SCORING A DOUBLE PLAY.
First man singles to right ; steals second.
Next man goes out with a fly to right-
fielder.
Third man up hits a grounder to short-
stop. Short-stop tosses to third base-
man, who touches out runner, and
then throws the batter out at first.
FIG. 2. SYMBOLS USED IN MARKING A SCORE CARD.
They are used on the score sheet in certain
places, and much is to be read from their posi-
tion. Thus, if we find the symbol E i in the lower
right-hand corner of the square in which is a
diamond, opposite a player's name, we judge that
he hit the ball to the pitcher, and that the pitcher
threw so wildly to the first baseman that he was
pulled off the bag, and so the batter got safely to
the first sack. But if this square were blank and
E i appeared on the upper right-hand corner, we
should know that the batter hit to the pitcher, who
threw far over the first baseman's head, the
base-runner thus getting two bases on the error.
And if E i appeared in the lower right-hand cor-
ner, and 34 appeared in the upper right-hand
corner, and a i, a 2, or a 3 in the central square,
and there was no FC in the lower right-hand
corner of the batter immediately following, then
we should know that the batter hit to the pitcher,
who threw over the first baseman's head, who,
nevertheless, recovered the ball in time to throw
the base-runner out at second base.
Personally, I like to know whether a hit is
clean or scratchy, hence the variations in the sym-
bols of the hit. Sometimes a hit is clean, and is
stretched into extra bases by fast running. In
such a case it is interesting, in reading the score,
to know whether it was, for instance, an easy
two-base hit or one so close that a play was made
at second base in the endeavor to throw the run-
ner out, in which case, of course (if he is thrown
out), he can be credited only with a one-base hit.
But often the play is made and is not successful.
In such cases, what is simpler than to stretch one
arm of the base-hit symbol up to second base and
put a ring about it, signifying that a play was
1102
(fet/S /?/0
PLAYING THE GAME
.Where PUy«l, T^At /a </{ Jfi6 1'+
[Oct.,
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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by A. G. Spalding & Bros., in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
Stolen Bases Sacrifice Hits Sacrifice Flies ,
Two-base Hits Three-bate Hits Home Runs ,
Double Plays Triple Plays Number of Innings Pitched. By
Base Hits. Off Legal At Bats Scored Against Each Pitcher ..„
Struck Out. By Bases on Balls. Off Wild Pitches
Hit Batsman Passed Balls Time of Game Umpires
TWO PAGES FROM
These pages show the second game of the World's Series of igio between the Cubs and Athletics, at Philadelphia, October 18, 1910. The
scoring only has been copied — the summary and the At Bat, Run, Hit, Put-out, Assist, and Error columns have been left blank. See if you
can, with a pencil, fill in these columns correctly from the score. If you can — and there is nothing hard about it — you will have demonstrated
the ease of keeping At Bats, Hits, Put-outs, Assists, etc., for your own team.
First inning: Chicago: The cards show Sheckard got a base on
balls, and was forced at second by Schulte, Collins and Barry taking
care of his grounder. Hofman got a base on balls, advancing Schulte,
and both advanced again on Chance's hit. Zimmerman hit a sacrifice
to Strunk, Schulte scoring. Steinfeldt struck out.
Philadelphia: Strunk struck out, Kling missing the third strike but
getting the runner at first. Lord was out, Steinfeldt to Chance. Collins
hit to right and stole second. Baker was thrown out, Brown to
Chance.
Second inning : Chicago: Tinker was safe at first on Davis's error,
but was doubled up with Kling on the latter's drive to Collins. Brown
was out, Collins to Davis.
Philadelphia: Davis lifted a long fly to Hofman. Murphy got a
base on balls. Barry forced Murphy at second, Tinker and Chance
completing a double play.
made, unsuccessfully? If the play is made suc-
cessfully, put a one-base-hit symbol in the first
base corner, draw the single line meaning "hit"
up into second base, and on one side of it put the
numbers of the man making the assist and put-
out — say 86, meaning that the center-fielder
chased the ball and threw it to the short-stop
covering the base— or if it were a longer hit, the
numbers might read 864, meaning that the center-
fielder chased the ball, relayed to the short-stop,
who relayed to the second baseman, who made the
Third inning: Chicago: Sheckard was given a base on balls. Schulte
was safe, Davis's error getting credit for a sacrifice. Hofman flied out
to Davis. Chance struck out. Zimmerman ended with a line drive to
Lord.
Philadelphia: Thomas reached first on Steinfeldt's error. Coombs
struck out. Strunk made a hit. On Lord's hit to Zimmerman, Strunk
was forced at second. Thomas and Lord scored on Collins's double to
left. Lord kept on home, as Steinfeldt fumbled Sheckard's throw.
Baker was out at first on Zimmerman's assist.
Fourth inning: Chicago: Steinfeldt lifted a fly to Strunk. Tinker
singled to center but was out stealing. Kling struck out.
Philadelphia: Davis was thrown out at first by Tinker. Murphy
fouled to Chance. Barry singled. Thomas singled. Coombs struck
out.
Fifth inning : Chicago: Brown reached first base on Coombs's fum-
put-out. In this case, the central diamond gets a
figure, meaning the first, second, or third "out."
When a man is left on base, put a cross in the
central diamond— when he scores, put a black dot
— and if he sacrifices, put an S in the central
diamond after the figure indicating the number of
his "out."
It is not necessary to put a symbol over the fig-
ures 7, 8, or 9, when a batter is retired by an out-
field fly catch, but it is interesting to do so, both
to show at a glance that it was a fly, and to indi-
is".] PLAYING THE GAME 1103
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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by A, G. Spalding & Bros., in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D, C.
Stolen Bases Sacrifice Hits Sacrifice Flies
Two-base Hits Three-base Hits Home Runs. . . .
Double Plays Triple Plays Number of Innings Pitched. By. .
Base Hits. Off.... Legal At Bats Scored Against Each Pitcher
Struck Out. By Bases on Balls. Off Wild Pitches. . .
Hit Batsman Passed Balls Time of Came Umpires.
A SCORE BOOK.
ble. Coombs made a second fumble and Sheckard was safe, getting a
sacrifice. Schulte sacrificed to Davis unassisted. Hofman gut a base
on balls, and Chance came to the plate with the bases filled. Chance
flew out to Murphy, and on a throw to the home plate Brown was
doubled.
Philadelphia: Strunk struck out. Lord singled to right and Collins
forced Lord at second, Tinker to Zimmerman. Collins stole second.
Baker walked. Collins scored on Davis's single to left, the latter going
to second on the throw in. Murphy was out at first.
Sixth inning : Chicago: Zimmerman was walked. On Steinfeldt's
fly to Collins, Zimmerman was doubled up at first. Tinker doubled to
left. Kling flew out to Strunk.
Philadelphia: Barry fanned. Thomas went to first on four balls, and
to third on Coombs's single to center. Strunk struck out. Lord's foul
was caught by Chance.
Seven-th inning : Chicago: Brown struck out. Sheckard doubled to
right. Schulte lifted a fly to Strunk. Hofman was given his base on
balls. Sheckard scored on Chance's single to center. Zimmerman's
grounder forced Chance, Collins to Barry.
Philadelphia: Collins was given a base on balls. Baker singled to
cate what kind of a fly. Similarly, the figure 3
in the first base square can be used alone to show
that the first baseman had an unassisted put-out,
but it does not show whether the batter hit a fly
or knocked a grounder which he fielded, and then
touched the bag. But a fly symbol or a wiggly
line indicating grounder tells the tale with ease.
It is all very simple, when you get used to it,
and very valuable in settling disputes, and partic-
ularly valuable in showing you what you have
done, if you keep, your own record in this way.
right. Davis drove the ball to left for two bases, scoring Collins and
putting Baker on third. Murphy doubled, scoring Baker and Davis.
Barry's sacrifice, Brown to Chance, placed Murphy on third. Thomas
singled to left, scoring Murphy. Coombs was out at first by Chance,
unassisted. Strunk doubled to right, scoring Thomas. Sheckard
dropped Lord's fly, and Strunk scored. Lord was out stealing, Kling
to linker.
Eighth inning: Chicago: Steinfeldt doubled to left. Tinker lifted
to Baker. Kling took first on balls. Beaumont batted for Brown and
struck out. Coombs passed Sheckard. Three men were left on bases
when Schulte popped a fly to Collins.
Philadelphia: Richie pitched for Chicago. Collins drove the ball
to right for two bases. Baker was out at first, Chance unassisted.
Davis was out at first, Chance unassisted. Murphy was out, Steinfeldt
to Chance.
Ninth inning: Chicago: Hofman singled to left. Chance was out
at first, Collins to Davis. Zimmerman doubled to left, scoring Hof-
man. Steinfeldt was out, Barry lo Davis. Tinker was given his base
on balls. Kling hit to Barry, and the latter stopped on second, forcing
Tinker.
Of course, no Big-League player is supposed
to have glaring weaknesses which need correc-
tion by practice. If he has any very glaring
faults, he is not a Big-Leaguer. But his record
is kept with scrupulous accuracy, and not only
his record, but the record of every League player
anywhere iri organized base-ball, so that any one,
at any time, can know just what a player has done.
If it is necessary to keep the record of all the
games played, and from these to make up the rec-
ords and averages for all the League players,
1104
PLAYING THE GAME
[Oct.,
who are at least supposed to be very expert, how
much more necessary is it for you, as yet in the
developing stage, to know exactly what you
really do and don't do, with all the finality of
cold figures. Hence I advise you to learn to
score, or have some one score, your games, and
each member of the team to keep at home his
own record, batting and fielding, so that he may
know where to improve. For by this one thing
— finding the weakness and making it a point of
strength— are won more games between other-
wise evenly matched teams than in any other
way. It is in "'finding the holes and plugging
them up" — in finding the weakness and going
after the game through that weakness, that John
McGraw and Connie Mack have made their repu-
tations and built up their champion teams.
But, of course, that is not all !
It is only one of the little things that win ball
games — perhaps it is the biggest of the little
things. But there are other things, and among
them none stands out with greater importance
than these two— take the chance when it comes,
and "cross" the other side.
"Taking the chance when it comes" hardly
needs an explanation. It is the whole art of base-
running, of coaching, and of batting, yet many
a ball-player goes sliding down the hill from the
Major to the Minor Leagues, because he never
masters the art of "taking a chance." When Ty
Cobb scores from first on a single, he is taking
the chance that comes to him. When the base-
runner slides into second and is on his feet on
the instant, and sees the muffed ball rolling out
of the way and dashes for third, he is taking the
chance which comes to him. To wait to be batted
around the diamond would hardly be playing the
game.
Mathewson tells of a chance he took in the
first game of the last World's Series, in which he
invented a play and achieved it in the fraction of
an instant. With Athletic runners on first and
second, and two out, with Collins at bat, Matty
had a bad situation. But do what he would, he
could not keep Collins from hitting the ball,
though the bunt was only a slow roller down the
first-base line. Merkle dived after the ball —
Matty dived for first base. Collins, seeing he
could not pass both men, slid. And Matty saw
he could not get to the base in time to receive a
throw because Merkle was in his way. So he
leaped at Merkle, and threw him at Collins !
"It was an old-fashioned foot-ball shove," said
Matty.
One can imagine its results with a man like
Matty shoving a man like Merkle on a little man
like Collins ! It seemed worse than foot-ball.
However, base-ball-players are usually too well
hardened to get hurt, and the only hurt done here
was to the Athletics' chances, since Merkle, im-
pelled by that "foot-ball shove," touched Collins
out before he could touch the bag. The specta-
tors thought the Giants were playing loose ball
and getting in each other's way, but they were
not. They were playing the game ! One of them
was taking the chance which came to him, and
inventing a new play and carrying it out all in
the instant. That 's one reason why he is known
as so great a player— he has a head !
To "cross" the other team is to fead them to
expect you are going to do one thing, and then
do another. Signaling a hit-and-run so the
catcher can see it, and then not hitting or run-
ning when he calls for and receives a wide ball
from the pitcher, is a common instance — it serves
to get the pitcher "in a hole." Pretending to try
to steal home by dashing for the plate when the
pitcher starts to deliver the ball, and stopping
midway for a mad dash back to third as the pitcher
falters in his motion, is another. Any trick which
fools a team in a Major League must be a good
trick and well worked— indeed, boys get so alert
in their games that it has to be a pretty keen
trick which will fool them. But it is done in the
Big Leagues, and can be done in the boys' games,
if a little thought be devoted to the art. With
teams otherwise evenly matched, it may be the
"little thing" which decides the game.
Instances in Big-League play are not hard to
find. Two will suffice here as instances of how
such tricks can be turned.
Chicago and Detroit were having a hard bat-
tle. White, Chicago's great "southpaw," was
pitching, and the Sox were leading i to o in the
ninth. Detroit had O'Leary on first base and
two out. The pitcher was due to bat, and he had
done nothing against White. So Jennings sent
up Herman Schaefer as a forlorn hope. Not that
Schaefer was not in the habit of delivering hits,
but he had been out of the game for a month
with broken fingers, and his hand was still ban-
daged. Now Schaefer knows about as much
base-ball as any player living, and he knows too,
as well as any man, the psychology, or thinking
part, of the game. He knew perfectly well that
White would think him "easy" because, when a
player is "on the bench" for any long period, he
usually loses his "batting eye." So Schaefer
planned to get a ball "straight over." He did
this by standing very carelessly at the plate, "jol-
lying" his team-mates and the Chicago catcher,
and standing far from the plate. White was suf-
ficiently deceived to put the first ball square over
the plate, thinking Schaefer would want to "look
IQI2.]
PLAYING THE GAME
1105
THE
at a couple" before he tried to hit, and naturally
desiring to have those first balls strikes. But
as White let the ball go, Schaefer "set" him-
self, drew back his bat, and sent the straight
ball into the left-field bleachers for a home run,
scoring O'Leary from first base ahead of him,
and winning the game. It was a pure case of
"crossing." The way it was done makes it seem
a very, very little thing to do— yet it won a ball
game !
In the last World's Series, Bender, who did
such magnificent work, "kidded" the Giant play-
ers as he pitched to them. Bender owns a head,
as well as a hand and arm, and he, too, knows
the psychology of the game. But he met his
match when he tried to "cross" Devore. In the
seventh inning of the first game, with two out,
and Myers on second, Devore came to bat. Ben-
der opened fire at once, with perfectly good-na-
tured banter.
"Ah, here 's the little fellow !" he said. "Sorry,
but I 've to strike you out. See that?" as the
umpire called, "Strike one." "Now another one.
What? No good? Well, that 's too bad. Never
mind. Here goes a real one— what did I tell
you? Now for the third strike! Why did n't
you hit at it ? Knew it was a ball ? Well, now
it 's two and two, is n't it ? All right, here goes
a nice curve over the, outside corner— watch it."
"I 'm watching," said little Devore.
And Bender, figuring that Devore would think
he would pitch something else than what he said
he would pitch, did send up a curve over the out-
side corner, and Devore, who had "crossed" Ben-
der by guessing that he would do just what he
said he would, batted the ball to left-field for
two bases, scoring Myers ! "Reckon I talked too
much !" said Bender, as he came back to the
bench ! Here was another case of a "little thing"
helping to win a ball game.
So it really is the little, rather than the big,
things that win ball games. And if you, too, will
attend to these "little things," keep a record, keep
a score, find out what you do and don't do, and
learn to do that which, as yet, you can't do, and,
above all, keep your eyes open and your wits
sharp, you will, ere long, "cross" the other side,
and take the chances that come your way.
But don't expect to succeed all the time. Ty
Cobb gets caught off bases, and put out at the
plate not infrequently. But more frequently he
"gets away with it." Part of the art of the "lit-
tle things" is not to get discouraged if they don't
always succeed. And remember that in every
ball game which is not a tie because of darkness
or rain, one team just has to lose !
END.
Vol. XXXIX. — 139.
vr
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3n-
THE UNSUSPECTED TALENT
PKStevens
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The Be-Ba-Boes, from the very start,
Were always fond of the Musical Art ;
Their Orpheus Club
Is the regular Hub
Of all things operatic.
And once a week, on a Tuesday night,
They practise singing parts at sight,
With shakes and trills
And similar frills,
As well as scales chromatic.
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eterPoly!
is
At last there came such a wide demand
For a public show, that the same was planned,
In Harmony Hall,
With the singers all
Conducted by Herr Roly ;
But every one was most surprised
To find that they had advertised
As solo star—
Par-tic-u-lar,
"Professor Peter Poly !"
*.
II06
THE UNSUSPECTED TALENT
1107
kP
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y
To all this seemed a singular thing,
For nobody ever had heard him sing;
But Peter said:
"Upon that head
I claim, and you can't deny it,
That, though I never have vocalized,
And my skill is only to be surmised,
We never will know
How far I '11 go,
Till I get a chance to try it !"
Well, the evening came, and despite the fact
That they had to pay, the hall was packed;
Which goes to show
That a Be-Ba-Bo
Can appreciate the Muses.
The choral club on the platform sat,
And Roland, proud in his bearskin hat,
Was a sight to see,
For he can be
Quite dashing when he chooses !
1108
BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES
[Oct.,
The program called for an English Glee
Performed by all, in the key of G,
A gay duet,
A grand sextet,
And a rather gloomy trio ;
And then the thrilling moment came :
Professor Peter Poly's name,
Announcing how :
"He '11 oblige us now
With 'Rolling Down to Rio !' "
Most likely you will all infer
That Peter failed, wherein you err;
I am bound to say
That he carried away
His hearers— few can do so;
His voice soared high, and it rumbled low,
Piano and Fortissimo;
The people stared —
And then declared :
"He 's better than Caruso !"
IQI20
THE UNSUSPECTED TALENT
1109
Not only did lie sing his song
In jovial voice, immensely strong,
But he acted, too,
In a way which grew
Each moment more controlling ;
For he rolled right down the center aisle,
And so contagious was his style,
That great and small,
Old folks and all,
Could not refrain from rolling !
The grand debut was successful, quite,
For they kept him singing all that night,
And the following day
He sailed away,
And made his fortune by it.
And if Be-Ba-Boes are asked to sing,
Or dance a jig, or some such thing,
They now say: "Well,
You never can tell
Till we 've had a chance to try it !"
AN EVENING at the WIRELESS STATION
xfJr
ihancis -ajeusto:li> ccxllhsts
The night-watch had just
come on duty in the operating-
room of the great wireless sta-
tion. The operator had taken
his place, the receivers clasped
to his ears, in the midst of the
mysterious machinery which filled the great room.
A century or so ago, one of these operators, call-
ing up the four corners of the world at will, would
have been considered a witch of a very danger-
ous kind. Any twentieth-century boy, however,
would recognize the apparatus at a glance, and
about one in five could take hold of the machin-
ery and run it himself.
Imagine a gigantic spider's web with innumer-
able threads radiating from New York more
than a thousand miles over land and sea in all
directions. In his station atop one of the sky-
scrapers on lower Broadway, our operator may
be compared to the spider, sleepless, vigilant,
ever watching for the faintest tremor from the
farthest corner of his invisible fabric.
"On a quiet night like this," the operator ex-
plained to our question, "we reach the equator
N
WIRELESS STATION, SIASCONSET, MASS.
WHERE THE C Q D MESSAGE WAS RECEIVED FROM THE "REPUBLIC.'
ino
AN EVENING AT THE WIRELESS STATION
1111
on the south and beyond, the arctic circle to the
north ; then, say, two thirds across the Atlantic,
and far beyond the Mississippi to the west. The
air is comparatively quiet just now, but things
will soon look up. The evening is our busy time,
you see."
It is difficult to realize the extent of this great
area which may be covered
in an instant by the click
of the wireless instrument.
The fastest ocean steamer
would take more than a
week to travel from one
wireless boundary to an-
other. The operators within
ready call can report all
extremes of weather. The
message from some north-
ern station telling of a rag-
ing blizzard arrives at the
same instant a steamer in
the tropics complains of
intense heat. One vessel
reports a breathless calm,
while another message is
interrupted by the violence
of the storm and the roll-
ing of the ship. And, too,
the operators thousands of
miles apart talk and joke
with one another as though
they were in the same
room.
It is an unusual favor to
be allowed to spend the
night in the great station.
The operators must, of
course, be guarded from
interruptions. At any mo-
ment of the day or night,
a faint click may bring
word, perhaps, of some
vessel in distress, or other
vital news, and the man at
the key must listen in per-
fect silence and with the most anxious attention.
The assistant operator, for there are always two
on duty, having explained this, fitted to our ears
the receivers connected with the delicate appar-
atus which mysteriously picks up the flying
messages.
The air seemed suddenly alive with humming,
clicking sounds. Probably nowhere else in the
world is the air so charged with wireless vibra-
tions as above New York. At times there are as
many as a score of messages flashing back and
forth. The great fleet of steamers passing in
and out of New York harbor naturally have a
great deal to talk about. Add to this the vast
volume of commercial work flying from city to
city, and the messages between Government sta-
tions. But it is the incessant chatter of the ama-
teur wireless operators which swells the chorus.
"I should say there were 75,000 amateurs scat-
OPERATOR ON AN OCEAN LINER SENDING OUT THE C Q D, OK DISTRESS, SIGNAL.
tered about the country," the operator explained.
"The amateur messages we pick up here may be
counted by hundreds, and, of course, there are
thousands of amateur receiving stations listening
to what we say."
There came a sudden interruption. Out of the
maze of messages the experienced ear of the
operator had caught a particular click intended
for him. He bent quickly over the complicated
series of dials and levers before him, turning the
arrows this way and that. Instantly the wireless
chatter became blurred and gradually died away,
1112
AN EVENING AT THE WIRELESS STATION
[Oct.,
as one message seemed to leap up and drown out
all the rest. It is possible to "cut out" a par-
ticular message from a score of others.
"That is what we call a dead-head message,"
explained the operator. "It comes from a steamer
400 miles out at sea, telling her owners when she
will get in. It is the commonest of all messages."
The operator nodded to his assistant, who reached
over and pulled a lever on the wall. The quiet
of the room was broken by the whir of a dynamo
The messages may thus be picked out of the sky
and telegraphed or telephoned in an interval
measured by seconds only.
"It is as easy to recognize an operator from
his touch as you pick out a familiar voice in a
crowd," the operator explained in the next lull.
"They sound much alike to you, but you will soon
get to know a man's speed, and touch of the key,
whether light, strong, or hesitating. Almost
every operator, besides, has some little trick of
INTERIOR OF A MODERN WIRELESS STATION.
suddenly released, while the room was lit up
with a vivid greenish glare. From above came
the sharp crack of the sending instrument noti-
fying the steamer far out at sea that her mes-
sage had been received.
Every preparation had been made in the great
station for economizing time. At any moment,
some message asking for help may be picked up,
when every minute is priceless. Without mov-
ing from his chair the operator can call up the
entire country. He sits with a telegraph instru-
ment and a long-distance telephone at his elbow.
his own. Then there is a great deal of differ-
ence in the machines themselves. Let me show
you just what I mean."
A touch of the arrow on the broad dial, and a
single message suddenly leaped out of the con-
fusion. "See how powerful that message is," he
explained. "That comes from the Government
station near by at the Brooklyn navy-yard. They
are sending to Washington. The message is in
cipher, so I can't read it. Now take this one."
The operator translated rapidly. " 'Will be
over after school . . .' ; that 's from two kid
igi2.]
AN EVENING AT THE WIRELESS STATION
1113
amateur operators talking, probably not more
than fifty miles away. Here 's another: 'Will
meet you at dock with Mother.' The message is
being relayed to an incoming ocean steamer. And
so it goes."
A moment later the operator caught his own
call. An incoming transatlantic liner, several
hundred miles out, was clamoring to deliver her
messages, and so, for the next few minutes, the
operator wrote busily on his type-writer, taking
down, as they came in, the numerous despatches
addressed to all parts of the country. The mes-
sages were quickly relayed, some by telephone,
others by telegraph, to their destinations.
"Many of the amateur wireless operators, boys
and girls, too, are very successful^ and they are
all pretty good at it." The operator took up the
conversation where he had been interrupted.
"Sometimes just with a wire strung up like a
clothes-line between trees, they are able to pick
up many long-distance messages. I know one
boy who catches messages sent out from Panama.
I understand that a boy near here caught the
news of the Titanic disaster among the first."
This seemed a good time to ask whether the
wireless amateurs make as much trouble as some
people imagine. Both the operators said,, good-
naturedly, that they were a bit of a nuisance,
although they had a good deal of sympathy for
them, nevertheless. Most of these amateur opera-
tors do not wish to be annoying, and respond
very promptly when they are asked to keep
quiet. Their sending apparatus is not often very
powerful, and no difficulty is likely to arise
except when they are within a few miles of the
great stations. The wireless companies expect
that this will soon be regulated by law, to the
satisfaction of all.
"As a matter of fact," the operator explained,
"the wireless disturbance from the amateur wire-
less is limited to a few hours each day. The
boys get busy early in the evening, soon after
dinner, and they talk as only boys can, until bed-
time. When there is nothing coming in, I like
to pick out their messages and listen to them.
They begin by sending out their own particular
private call. There are thousands of them all
over the country. Then, with their apparatus ad-
justed, they begin to gossip about everything
under the sun. They ask each other for the
base-ball or foot-ball scores, make appointments
to meet the next day, compare their lessons. And
they quarrel and talk back and forth by wireless
in regular boy-fashion."
The important long-distance work is usually
done late at night. When the amateurs are
safely tucked away in bed and the rush of com-
Vol. XXXIX. -140.
mercial messages lets up, the great station does
its best work. The delicate instruments are
tuned to catch the faintest wireless vibration
from oversea. When the conditions are at their
best, messages leap the entire width of the At-
lantic, or wireless calls are distinctly heard from
far west of the Mississippi. It is common to
talk with Panama, and soon, when the new sta-
tion is installed in South America, despatches will
be sent from points far south of the equator.
The alarm call of the skies is the famous
C Q D or S O S. The distress signal is reserved
for cases of extreme necessity, and when they
are heard, everything is dropped, and the ma-
chinery of the station is put in operation to catch
the message and forward it to its destination. The
signal is picked up by the great New York sta-
tions much oftener than one imagines, or on an
average of about once a week. Many of these
distress signals are from small vessels, often
from freighters which have broken down and
need a tug to bring them in. And since there is
no danger to life, the public does not hear of
them.
One of the most remarkable instances of the
SOS call in the experience of the New York
station occurred some months ago, when a large
passenger steamer ran aground down in the Ba-
hamas. She was more than 1000 miles south of
New York. The moment after she struck, she
began sending out the SOS for all she was
worth. It was late at night, everything was
quiet, and this station caught practically the first
message, clear and distinct. Word was sent at
once to her owners, so that they were informed
within a few minutes after the accident. Then
there were the Titanic and the Republic. In the
old days before wireless telegraphy, these ships
would have gone down and the world would
probably never have known what happened to
them.
There is a great deal of interesting informa-
tion floating about the air every hour of the day.
Every steamship line, or wireless station, whether
for private, commercial, or government use, has
its own code or signal which it sends out
before beginning a message. Upward of 200
such signals are in use within striking distance
of New York. There is even a wireless news-
paper service which is sent out broadcast at reg-
ular intervals. The ships far out at sea are on
the lookout for this news, which is posted on the
ships, or printed daily in the ships' newspapers.
The news contains a summary of the happenings
of importance, fires, elections, accidents, even
interviews with prominent people, and winds up
with the quotations from the stock-exchange.
1114
AN EVENING AT THE WIRELESS STATION
There was a time when the keepers of lonely exact position, even should it be in the midst of
lighthouse stations were greatly to be pitied, and the thickest fog or most blinding storm. The
when some went insane from solitude. Soon
FASTNET LIGHT, OFF THE COAST OF IRELAND.
these men will be in touch with the affairs of
the world, and learn the news as quickly as the
man who reads the latest editions of the news-
papers. For it has been proposed that in some
of the lighthouses along our coasts a wireless
equipment should be installed, and supplement the
work now done by the beacon light. The advisa-
bility of doing this is being carefully considered
by Government experts, and tests are being made
with these "blind lighthouses" as they are called.
This plan seems very reasonable. To-day these
great land beacons throw out a flash-signal or
sweep of light, so that a vessel can recognize a
particular lighthouse miles at sea. In very clear
weather the most powerful of these lights are
visible upward of forty miles, most of them, how-
ever, having a much shorter range. A warning
by wireless may, of course, be thrown hundreds
of miles to sea, telling a vessel many hours in
advance that she is approaching a dangerous
coast. Nor is this all. For, in the experiments
now being carried on, these wireless signals do
more than warn ships at sea of the perils of the
shore— they actually enable a ship to calculate its
wireless, or blind, lighthouses flash their position,
and the master of a ship receiving messages from
two or more such points on shore can readily
figure out his own position by a simple process
FASTNET LIGHT AS IT WOULD APPEAR IF CON-
VERTED INTO A "BLIND LIGHTHOUSE."
of triangulation. Such an extension of the won-
derful system of wireless communication makes
us realize that we have probably only begun to
enjoy the benefits that this great discovery is
destined to confer on humanity.
MAKING A LIVING
{"Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects'*)
BY GEORGE LAWRENCE PARKER
No matter what else we do in this world, we must
make a living. Of course some people inherit
enough money to keep them alive, but I think we
shall see, before our chat is ended, that even they,
too, must, in a sense, make a living.
In the first place, we must keep ourselves alive.
That means we must have food, and clothing, and
shelter. And these mean money. And that means
helping to keep some one else alive. The world
does not pay us for being here, but demands pay
from us. We enjoy a privilege for which we
must pay. At first glance this seems hard ; but,
looked at more closely, it is those who regard life
as a privilege, something worth having, even
though it costs a great deal, who really enjoy life.
Very few great songs about happiness have come
from countries where a living may be had for
nothing. In general, it is true that very few have
come from people who just live on fruit that
drops off the trees into their open hands. They
pick up a living, but do not make it.
In civilized lands like ours, making a living
has come to mean that every one must earn at
least enough to prevent him from begging
others to keep him alive. And it is in this way
that we must first look at the matter. When we
leave school or college, we must begin to prove
to the world that we are able to carry ourselves
along. But it is not particularly pleasant to think
of going on year after year doing the same thing,
or even a number of different things, merely to
prove that we can stay alive. I am sure we must
find something more than this in making a living,
or we will be a sad race of people.
First of all, then, there is the joy of really mak-
ing something. Every boy and girl knows that
the dullest day is brightened the moment we say,
"Let 's make something." Whether it be paper
dolls, or toy boats, or an engine, or any one of a
dozen things, the charm lies in the word "make."
The minutes fly, and even if we have only half
finished what we started to do, we have entirely
driven away the dullness of the day. To make
something, to actually bring something into exis-
tence, is, perhaps, the highest joy in life. The
man who does this in a big or unusual way is
called a genius. Out of a few words he brings
into being a great poem; out of a few colors he
paints a great picture ; out of a stone he carves
a beautiful statue or a great figure, like that
of the Lion of Lucerne; out of ill-clad, undrilled
men he makes an army, as Washington did.
Now, while every man who makes a living is
not a genius, yet the real joy of creating can be-
long to each of us in just as real and true a way.
If we put into farming, or banking, or our school
work, the sense of making something, we get the
great treasure out of it. When we fill any task
with ourselves, we make something. A girl says,
"I made the room tidy," which simply means she
put something of herself into the disorderly room,
and so beautified it. After she had made it tidy, it
reflected something of herself; it looked like some
idea of order such as she had in her own mind.
A boy says, "I made a good recitation in school
yesterday" ; and he is right, for although the les-
son was already there, it had to wait for him to
come along and make it a recitation.
So it is everywhere. Making anything means,
no matter how simple the task, that we bring out
something that did not exist before ; and that that
something is to some degree like the maker of it.
We get out what we put in. If any one wants to
be miserable, the surest way is just to do things
without putting his whole heart and self into
them. Think of the, mere outside of the tasks,
and they are not worth doing. But once put your-
self into them, and all that is changed.
Here is a letter from my friend. The writing
is just some scrawls of ink, not very graceful.
Nothing very wonderful here, surely. But I open
it, I begin to read it, I smile, then I laugh, then
I read farther and farther on; and when I reach
my friend's name at the end of it, I have really
found him. Why, then it is n't just a letter: it 's
my friend himself ! He has literally shut himself
up in an envelop, put a two-cent stamp on him-
self, and talked with me.
The wonderful part of making a living is that,
by making it, we show the world who we are.
We carve ourselves out of our tasks.
So, then, we can go a step farther, and say that
when we make a living, we make ourselves.
Some one has put it this way: "A shoemaker
makes the shoe, but the shoe also makes the shoe-
maker." If it were not for the shoes, there really
would n't be a shoemaker.
Now notice the word "living"— the thing we
make. It is n't so much money that we make,
but something far larger. We make our own
living. It is something entirely new; the world
never saw it before ! That is a wonderful
thought ! The world has seen other men make
a living, but never before did it see you or me
"■5
1116
MAKING A LIVING
do it, nor did it ever see just the living we make.
It has seen many boys go to school, but it is very
much interested to see just how you are going to
do it. You must make the school live ! You
must, in turn, make the bank, or the church, or
the railroad live, and in doing that you make
yourself live. You keep them and yourself alive !
And really this, in its way, is just as great a thing
as making a poem, or a statue, or a picture. To
make a living is n't the dull grind that many
people suppose it to be. It is a constant surprise
to us, and to every one else, too.
Now I promised to say a word about the people
who do not seem to need to make a living, the
people who inherit a great deal of wealth. If you
watch them, you will see that they, too, work
hard at making a living— in a sense. For they
are not happy unless they are busy. To many of
them the securing of pleasure is a harder task
than our toil is to most of us. Often they don't
get their pleasure as they go along, but have to
travel away off to Europe or, perhaps, Asia to
find it. They have to make a living by spending
a great deal of money all the time, while, to many
simpler people, pleasure, comes every day as they
go about their work. So we need not criticize or
blame these people too much ; and least of all
need we envy them.
It 's a splendid phrase— "Making a living!" It
really means making a life. While we may seem
to do it just to get food and shelter, we are really
doing it to get vastly greater things. I make my-
self, I make something for some one else, I help
to make the lives of other people.
JINGLES
Mary's singing exercise
Makes Brother Bobby stare,
For on the highest notes, she has
To stand upon a chair !
"I 've heard that flowers were alive,"
Said little Lucy Lee,
"And now I guess it must be so,
'Cause this one just bit me !"
THE TALE OF THE TAILLESS CAT
BY PAULINE FRANCES CAMP
(Not a sign of a tail does the Manx Cat wear.
Listen! the reason I shall declare.)
'T was long ago, when the world was young,
That the Lion, the king of beasts, gave tongue,
And the wondrous plan to the beasts unfurled,
That they should make a tour of the world.
'We '11 visit the land where the people sneeze ;
We '11 mount to the top of the Pyrenees ;
We '11 go where the heat of the sun 's immense,
And plunge through the forests and thickets
dense.
We '11 march in a line, in a grand parade,
And I '11 be the leader," the Lion said.
And so, when rolled round the appointed day,
With a mighty roar, he led the way.
Behind him, marching along in line,
Came Tiger, and Panther, and Porcupine,
Elephant, Jaguar, and Kangaroo,
A tall Giraffe, and a Puma, too ;
An Ibex queer, and a long-haired Goat,
A Yak, and a Fox, and a white-furred Stoat.
Every animal, every beast,
And from the largest down to the least,
They leaped and trotted and pranced and
hopped,
Behind the Lion, who never stopped.
They traveled onward for miles and miles,
Till at last, when they reached the British Isles,
The procession had grown till it fairly wound
The circumference of the world around.
For so many had joined the marching ranks,
That the last, a Cat of the kind called Manx,
Found herself padding on cushioned toes,
Right under the Lion's lordly nose !
And that haughty leader, imagine that !
Was following after the humble Cat !
He ! — the leader !— the Lion King !
To follow after that puny thing?
A roar, a snarl, and a vicious snap,
And between the two showed a dreadful gap !
A gap where the tail of the Cat had been.
And my tale must end where it did begin.
Not a sign of a tail does the Manx Cat wear,
And this is the reason I do declare.
Perhaps you don't think my story true ;
If the Lion swallowed the tail, can't you ?
THE TOWNSEND TWINS-CAMP DIRECTORS
BY WARREN L. ELDRED
Chapter XVII
"by the light of the silvery moon"
The week following the trip was spent quietly at
Beaver Camp. Lefty remarked that the only
active thing was the practice of economy. This
was in evidence every day, to the end that camp
finances might be placed once more in a condition
of strength that should rival the rock of Gibraltar.
The campers did not grumble, however, but, on
the contrary, made merry over privations, and
began a keen rivalry to determine who could sug-
gest the most thrifty idea or the plan that should
save the largest amount.
Of course the time was not spent in idleness.
Every day found the boys on the lake or in it —
generally both. The enthusiastic anglers fished
to their hearts' content. Those who favored
tramping explored fields and roads within a radius
of ten miles. Cousin Willie took some pictures
and spoiled many films in eager efforts to do his
own developing and printing, under the friendly
guidance of his "partner"— Lefty.
They used a developing tank, which was fortu-
nate, since the bungalow failed to number a dark
room among its other attractive features, and
printed the negatives on post-cards, which the
others were eager to purchase. Beaver Camp
felt very exclusive (Tad said "dressy") in having
"its own souvenir postals."
The intimacy which had commenced between
Lefty and Cousin Willie at the beginning of the
season had been of inestimable value in develop-
ing the latter. Lefty was just the sort of com-
panion for such a boy— strong of body, clean of
mind, patient, kind-hearted, and irrepressibly
1118
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
[Oct.,
cheerful. He furnished the kind of ideal which
had been forming in more or less hazy fashion
within the younger boy's mind.
Tad and Tom were quick to see this change in
their cousin, and were beyond measure amazed,
for they had long known an entirely different sort
of boy. Instead of being jealous of Lefty's influ-
ence over Cousin Willie, they rejoiced in his
emancipation from babyhood, and did all they
could to encourage him.
The other campers, too, seemed to realize that
the boy was doing his best to show the proper
spirit, and. admired him for it. Instead of having
in their ranks a babyish, selfish, "spoiled child,"
to be treated with tolerant patience and a sort of
contemptuous kindness (as they had anticipated),
they happily found a very different specimen.
They accepted Cousin Willie for what he tried to
be, and treated him exactly as they treated any
other camper, which filled the boy's heart with
encouragement and content.
Cousin Willie was supremely happy. He had
grown taller and heavier since coming to Beaver
Camp. His face was round, rosy, and bronzed by
sun and wind. Indeed, his shoulders and arms
shared this wholesome color, since the campers
wore sleeveless jerseys much of the time. More-
over, he had lost his feeling of restless discontent,
as well as his air of bored indifference and his
languid manner. The natural boy within him had
awakened, and did not seem at all likely to be
lulled to slumber again in the near future.
All the campers appeared to be in perfect
health. For nearly two months, they had lived a
simple, active life out-of-doors, and Nature had
richly rewarded them for obeying her laws.
"I have an idea," Tom announced one evening
at the supper-table.
"Pass it around," his brother advised. "It is n't
polite to have something that no one else has."
"Do you mean to say that none of us has any
ideas?" inquired the doctor.
"Oh, no ! not that ! Only that nobody could
have an idea like Tom's."
"How do you know what it is?" Tom demanded.
"When I was in North Rutland this afternoon,"
he went on, "I saw a wagon all fixed up for a
hay-ride. It was going toward one of the board-
ing-houses. Now, why can't we get one up for
some evening next week ? We shall have a full
moon then."
"Hooray !" cried the irrepressible Lefty. "We
'11 invite Mrs. Spencer, and the girls, and Cjax— "
"And we '11 get some horns and make a racket,"
Jack added.
"And sing 'Aunt Dinah's Quilting Party,' and
all the old songs we know," Bert suggested.
"You seem to like the idea after all !" said
Tom.
"Sure thing ! 'T is well. 'T is swell !" said
Tad, and all the others echoed his appreciation.
When the Beaver Campers welcomed an idea
with unanimous enthusiasm, there was sure to be
"something doing," as Lefty would have said.
Hence, before another sun had set, plans were
fully matured. A hay wagon was engaged, along
with a strong team and a careful driver. Invi-
tations were sent to Mrs. Spencer and the girls,
and were promptly accepted. Storer and Rut-
ledge agreed to assist Mrs. Spencer as additional
chaperons. A town about five miles distant from
North Rutland was selected as a destination, be-
cause it furnished "opportunities for refresh-
ment," as Tom said with great dignity, and also
for "several varieties of harmless amusement,"
he added. Horns were purchased, and then the
time appointed for the start was impatiently
awaited.
Promptly at the hour agreed upon, the boys
left camp and walked out to the main highway,
where the wagon was to call for them. Storer
and Rutledge were already there, and they all
perched on a fence near by to await the coming
of the "chariot."
"It 's going to be a fine night," Storer re-
marked contentedly. "I 'm glad of that ! It 's
no fun to take a moonlight ride in the rain."
"I see you brought your mandolin, Tad," Rut-
ledge added. "That 's good ! We '11 have some
music as we ride."
"Tad is so bright that he can play light airs in
the dark !" Lefty announced. "Oh, yes ! We 're
the musical crowd, all right ! Just look at all the
horns !"
"Here comes the coach-and-four !" Tom cried,
as the rattle of a springless wagon-frame sounded
farther up the road. And so it proved. Soon
they were getting settled on the fresh, clean hay.
Then they drove up to Mrs. Spencer's cottage,
where the ladies were awaiting them, and before
long the fun commenced.
"The children have been very good, Mrs.
Spencer," Storer assured the chaperon. "I
watched them carefully all the way. Of course,
they were noisy, but that 's to be expected of the
little dears when they have an outing."
Mrs. Spencer laughed merrily. "I wonder if
you will be as jolly when you are really Doctor
Storer and have a lot of sick people to think of,"
she ventured. "If you are, I believe I shall send
for you when I feel the need of a cheering-up
prescription."
"Thank you, Mrs. Spencer," was the grateful
reply. "I have the patronage of one admiring
igi2.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
1119
patient promised already, you see, brethren. How
is that for a start ?"
"Fine !" Rutledge responded with a laugh. "It
may be all right for you, but it 's a bit unfortu-
nate for Mrs. Spencer."
"Well, you remember what Solomon says— 'A
merry heart doeth good like a medicine,' " said
Mrs. Spencer; "and I suppose a physician and his
patient both share the benefit."
"That applies to other walks of life, too,"
Storer declared. "A man can fight through al-
most anything if only he keeps cheerful. But
let 's leave all this deep philosophy until later.
Who knows a good story?"
Almost every member of the party, it proved,
knew at least one, so each could contribute to
the general entertainment.
A vigorous tooting of horns saluted the end of
the last story, and then some one suggested that
a little music would be welcome.
Accordingly, Tad "tuned up" his mandolin, and
played some of the familiar pieces that he could
render from memory, and the others sang a vig-
orous and more or less tuneful accompaniment.
Thus they made their way onward until the town
that was their destination was reached, about
nine o'clock.
Before many minutes had passed, the party
found an ice-cream parlor, and the proprietor
with his assistants spent a busy half-hour. Then
the "joy-riders," as they called themselves, sepa-
rated into several groups, agreeing to reassemble
there promptly at ten o'clock.
The minutes passed quickly, and presently the
boys and their companions might have been seen
returning from several directions, shortly before
the hour appointed.
Ten o'clock came — five — ten minutes after-
still the party was not complete. Tad and Cousin
Willie were missing.
"Who knows what has become of Tad and
Will?" the doctor asked, a bit anxiously. "They
were due here ten minutes ago."
Then, in the distance, Tad was seen hurrying
toward them. He was alone, and Cousin Willie
was nowhere in sight.
Chapter XVIII
VISITORS AT CAMP
Tad and Cousin Willie had not visited either of
the two moving-picture shows which were among
the attractions of the town. They declared that it
would be more fun to watch the people, so they
wandered along the main street, looking in store
windows, and enjoying the mild bustle of the
town which contrasted so strongly with the quiet
of Beaver Camp — quiet when the boys were ab-
sent, be it understood.
"Do we need any supplies, Bill?" Tad asked,
as they approached a hardware store.
*'I don't know of anything, Tad."
Cousin Willie was called "Bill" very generally
now by all the boys, and proud he was to be
hailed by this name which suggested a fellow-
ship with these older boys whom he so ardently
admired.
"That auto looks like yours," Tad remarked, as
he pointed toward a touring-car that stood before
the hardware store.
"That 's right, Tad ! It certainly does !"
"Better claim it, Bill, and ride back to camp in
style."
Cousin Willie laughed, and they walked over
for a closer view.
"Of course it is n't ours !" he declared; "but it
looks exactly like it."
"Well, that might easily be. A company does
n't make just one car of any certain model. Most
likely this car is an exact duplicate of yours."
- Tad walked around to the rear of the car.
"What 's the number of your license-tag, Bill?"
he asked.
"I don't remember the new one. I wrote the
old one down in a memorandum book I used to
carry, but Papa has another tag now."
Just then a man in a long linen automobile
coat came out of the store. Tad saw him as he
turned toward the car, and the amazed expres-
sion which spread over his countenance caused
Cousin Willie to turn quickly.
The man noticed them at the same time, and
stopped short in bewildered astonishment, as if
he doubted the reality of what he saw.
"Papa !" cried Cousin Willie, springing for-
ward.
"Why, Willie — " gasped the surprised Mr.
Ainsworth.
"They call me Bill now," the boy ventured,
clinging affectionately to his father, and Mr.
Ainsworth smiled contentedly at the amendment.
Tad managed to squeeze in his share of greet-
ing at this point.
"Why, son, how you have grown !" Mr. Ains-
worth exclaimed. "And how well you look !
I 'm certain that you 've never looked better."
"I don't believe I have," the boy agreed. "I
feel fine, and you ought to see how my muscles
have developed. I can swim and dive, and I can
row and paddle for miles without getting tired."
Mr. Ainsworth seemed unable to take his eyes
off the tanned face of his son.
"I declare, son, I don't believe your mother
would have recognized you. Think so, Tad?"
1120
THE TOVVNSEND TWINS — CAMP DIRECTORS
[Oct.,
"I 'm afraid she would n't, Uncle William,
especially if he happened to be wearing clothes
that she had n't seen. I think that most of the
family would have to identify him by his clothes,
as things are now."
"Why, he 's so much larger and broader ! He 's
grown every way !"
"That 's right, Uncle William !" Tad exclaimed
heartily. "Bill has grown every way. There 's
just as much change inside of him as outside.
He 's a real boy now ! He 's shown lots of grit
this summer at different times, and I 'm proud of
him. I 'd say so to any one !" and Tad con-
cluded by laying his hand affectionately upon his
cousin's shoulder.
Mr. Ainsworth was silent a moment. Then he
said:
"Ah, Tad ! how much we have to thank you
for— you and Tom and all the others who have
been so kind to our boy."
Tad was afraid the situation might become em-
barrassing, so he laughed, and replied lightly :
"You can see that it has n't worn upon us,
Uncle William. The fellows have been kind t®
Bill, but it was because they liked him. But how
under the sun did you get here ?"
"We were coming up to surprise you,'' Mr.
Ainsworth explained, "but it has turned out a
surprise all around. How did you happen to be
in town to-night?"
Then the boys told him of the hay-ride, and in
the midst of the recital, Tad cried :
"Say, we were to be back by ten o'clock. What
time is it now?"
Three timepieces were produced and compared.
It was nearly ten minutes past ten.
"I think you '11 have to let us keep our boy
overnight, Tad," his uncle declared. "I left his
mother at the hotel, resting after the long ride,
and I know she '11 want to see her boy."
"Of course !" Tad agreed. "I '11 explain to
the others why Bill can't use the return part of
his excursion ticket."
"You can look for us at camp to-morrow
morning, Tad, if it 's clear," his uncle continued.
"We '11 come over and return the boy to you."
"Can't you stay to dinner ?" Tad responded
cordially. "We have plenty to eat, .such as it is,
and we 'd be real glad if you would stay."
"Thank you ! We shall be very glad to accept
the invitation."
"I '11 have to run along now," Tad exclaimed.
"I 'm 'way behind time, and the others '11 think
I 'm lost."
He sent a message of greeting to his aunt,
spoke a few hurried words of parting, and ran
off to join the party on the hay wagon.
He found the others seated upon the wagon,
impatiently awaiting his arrival.
"Where 's Bill?" several voices cried, as Tad
approached.
Tad stopped, and waved an arm in a mysteri-
ous gesture.
"Bill is in the bosom of his family," he an-
nounced dramatically, climbing to his place on the
hay ; and, as the horses started, he continued :
"In other words, Bill ran into his father back
there in town, and he was carried off to the hotel
to spend the night. They 're coming out to-mor-
row morning to visit us at camp, and they '11 stay
to dinner."
"Hooray !" Lefty cried. "Visitors at camp !
That means a spread."
"I knew that they expected to look in upon us,"
Doctor Halsey admitted. "For that reason, I
suggested that we postpone our trip to the north-
ern end of the lake and Ausable Chasm. Mr. and
Mrs. Ainsworth expect to go there, and I thought
it would be much pleasanter for all of us to go
together."
"It would!" Lefty agreed. "Are we all going
in the auto?"
"Hardly," the doctor responded with a laugh.
"We '11 go by boat to Port Kent, then by train
to Ausable Chasm, returning in the afternoon.
It 's only a one-day trip."
"We might hire that launch— the Rainbow,
you remember — the one we used for our histori-
cal pilgrimage," Tom suggested. "We can use it
all day for five dollars. Then we can start when
we want to, and come back when we feel like it.
We won't have to bother with time-tables, or go
tearing along like mad to make connections."
"That 's a good idea," Eliot remarked approvingly.
"It '11 be cheaper, too, because the cost to each of
us will be less than if we went the regular way."
"We 're nearly home now," Jack announced a
little later. "Let 's serenade the moon."
And soon after, with merry "good-nights," the
hay-ride reached a happy conclusion.
The Beaver Campers were astir early the next
morning in spite of their natural inclination to
linger in the comfortable luxury of their cots
after the late hours of the evening before.
They were anxious to have everything in fine
order, so that the visitors might receive a favor-
able impression of Beaver Camp and of the
housekeeping abilities of the campers.
About ten o'clock, the Ainsworths arrived.
Cousin Willie proudly introduced his parents to
his friends, including Storer and Rutledge, who
had "just dropped in to see what they were going
to have for dinner."
Mr. and Mrs. Ainsworth seemed delighted with
igi2.]
THE TOWNSEND TWINS — CAMP DIRECTORS
1121
everything. The views were superb and the
bungalow was an ideal summer home.
They walked down to the beach and looked out
over the lake. Then Cousin Willie invited them
to step into one of the camp boats, and he rowed
them alongshore as far as Mrs. Spencer's land-
flowers and ferns. Some one had suggested bor-
rowing a table-cloth from Mrs. Spencer, but Tail
declared that half the charm of the meal would
be lost if they adopted any of the refining touches
of life in the city.
It is doubtful if either Mr. or Mrs. Ainsworth
had ever eaten a meal in more
primitive style. They sat
upon a bench at one end of a
table made of boards and
packing-boxes. They ate from
heavy earthenware plates and
enameled ware bowls, and
drank from tin cups, but the
genuineness of their pleasure
was too real to be doubted.
The camp cooks had com-
bined their skill to produce
a dinner which should be
worthy of Beaver Camp.
There was vegetable soup,
fish taken from the lake,
roast beef, and two kinds of
vegetables, with ice-cream
and cake for dessert, and
coffee as the final course.
They lingered long over the
coffee, chatting in friendly
fashion of many things, and
telling stories of the busy,
happy weeks now past.
After a time, they heard
the sound of wheels on the
camp road, and presently a
buggy appeared. This stopped
near the bungalow, and a
man stepped out. As he came
toward them, Tom cried :
"Why, it 's Mr. Raymond !
the man who owns Beaver
Camp."
"So it is !" Tad agreed. "I
wonder if he is going to dis-
possess us."
Chapter XIX
THE NEW OWNER OF
BEAVER CAMP
"THE MAN STOPPED SHORT IN BEWILDERED ASTONISHMENT
ing and back again, much to their surprise and
his own intense satisfaction.
When they returned to Beaver Camp, dinner
was ready. The table had been moved out under
the trees, and was prettily decorated with wild
Vol. XXXIX.— 141-142.
Mr. Ainsworth quietly ex-
cused himself, and rose from
the table.
"I think Mr. Raymond is looking for me," he
said. "We are interested in some property in
this section, and had arranged a meeting for this
afternoon."
The two men walked back to the buggy, talk-
1122
THE TOWNSEND TWINS— CAMP DIRECTORS
ing earnestly, and continued their conversation
for some little time. Then Mr. Raymond drove
off, and the party about the dinner-table sepa-
rated.
The Ainsworths declined an invitation to re-
main to supper, but promised to return in the
evening to enjoy a real camp-fire with the boys.
Then they left Beaver Camp with many hearty
expressions of their enjoyment of the hospitality
extended by the campers.
In the early evening, just as the doctor was
touching a match to the kindlings of the big
camp-fire, Mr. and Mrs. Ainsworth arrived.
Storer and Rutledge joined the company, too, a
little later, so the group within the ruddy circle
was larger than usual.
They discussed plans for the proposed trip to
Ausable Chasm, and made final arrangements for
this event which was to mark the end of their
long vacation. After this, there would be only a
few days left for packing and for making prepa-
rations to return to the city and its duties.
Mr. and Mrs. Ainsworth invited the Beaver
Campers, including Storer and Rutledge, to take
dinner with them at the hotel when visiting the*
chasm, and the boys were rejoiced over the pros-
pect.
The Ainsworths returned to town at ten o'clock,
declaring that they did n't propose to keep the
boys up late for two nights in succession, and
within a brief time after their departure, Beaver
Camp was quiet, except for certain sounds pro-
ceeding from the piazza of the bungalow which
suggested a village of sawmills in active opera-
tion.
Doctor Halsey and the Ainsworths called on
Mrs. Spencer and the girls the following day, and
invited them to pilot the party through Ausable
Chasm and to share the fellowship of the dinner-
party. Of course, they were happy to accept the
invitation, and now there remained only the usual
question as to what the weather would be.
The elements were kind, however, for the day
which they had selected dawned clear and cool,
with every prospect of remaining fair.
It was a merry party that left the landing at
Beaver Camp about nine o'clock. The little
launch was crowded to its utmost capacity, and
it was almost a miracle that some of the boys did
not slip into the water from the places in which
they were precariously perched.
Fortune favored them, however, and all landed
safely at Port Kent in time to connect with the
train for Ausable Chasm. Mrs. Spencer and the
girls had visited this marvelous specimen of Na-
ture's handiwork on a number of former occa-
sions, so they were very well fitted to lead the
way through the wonderful chasm of the Ausable
River from Rainbow Falls to the point where
they embarked in boats to "shoot the rapids."
By the time they had completed the tour of
inspection,, they were quite ready for the dinner
which was waiting for them at the hotel.
It was more elaborate than that furnished by
Beaver Camp a few days previous, and it was
served in better style, but perhaps, after all, it
was not more enjoyed.
When the last course had vanished, and the
table had been cleared, Mr. Ainsworth rose and
said:
"While we are all here together, I have an an-
nouncement to make. For some years, Mrs. Ains-
worth and I have been promising ourselves that
we would have a home in the country where we
might spend a long vacation each year. We have
looked at several places, but only recently have
we found the long-sought spot.
"Will's letters concerning this beautiful region
have been so enthusiastic that we felt inclined to
investigate it carefully, with the idea of locating
in the vicinity.
"We have been charmed with the beauty of the
scenery and general attractiveness of the region,
and, fortunately, have discovered a place for sale
that just suits us. It has long been the property
of Mr. Raymond, and, this summer, has been
known as Beaver Camp.
"It is not our idea, however, to live alone. Will
would not be happy without you, and we should
feel decidedly lonesome ourselves. We shall ex-
pect to see the Beaver Campers year after year,
as long as they find it possible to come, and it
may be that they will feel disposed to seek others
who need this kind of life, as our boy did.
"I hope they will. Mrs. Ainsworth and I would
feel deeply gratified if we could know that we
had a share in building up some boy in the same
way that our boy has been built up during the
weeks past — not only in physical strength, but in
all that makes for manhood of the finest type.
"So Beaver Camp is going right on, and Mrs.
Ainsworth and I expect to be Beaver Campers
next year."
There was a vigorous demonstration of delight
and a buzz of excited conversation. After a few
moments, Tad rose and lifted a glass of water.
"Here 's to Cousin Willie," he said, "who, in
one season, has been transformed into Bill. May
we always have as good results during the years
ahead."
And the others, springing to their feet, enthu-
siastically indorsed this sentiment.
THE END.
THE MOONLIGHT HAY-RIDE OF THE BEAVER CAMPERS.
1123
MarySunshine
I BiMarjorie Louisa
^^ J miiis
Her name was really just plain Mary, and she
was as quaint and old-fashioned a little girl as
you could imagine. Her manner was already
quite grown-up, but that was not surprising, for
she had been born and brought up in a little vil-
lage on the coast of Maine. She was a pretty
child, although her hair was always parted in the
middle and brushed smoothly into two braids
down her back, and her dresses were always of
the plainest kind. Her mother was a thrifty woman
who did not believe in unnecessary trimming.
It was this trait of her mother's that brought
the Artist to their house as a summer boarder.
You see, the little town, although it was only a
fishing village in the winter, had become a gay
watering-place in the summer. At one end were
summer hotels and cottages of all kinds, crowded
together in a mixed-up sort of way, quite as if
they did not have miles of ground behind them
to spread over if they only wanted to. The other
end was the all-year-round part, with the village
stores and the homes of the "natives." Mary
lived just between the two ends, in a pretty white
cottage with green blinds, and her mother nearly
always found some one who was glad to rent the
"spare room" for the summer.
Mary could hardly believe it when she found
that this year the boarder was to be a real, live
artist. She had never seen one before, and she
peeped from behind the parlor curtains when the
bus drove up, hardly knowing what kind of a
being she expected to see. She was rather dis-
appointed at first, for he looked very much like
any one else. But as soon as they were really
acquainted, she got over this feeling, and found
him quite different from the other people she knew.
He discovered at once that there was a twinkle
in her eyes not at all' in keeping with her prim
little manner, and it was not long before he had
driven the primness all away, and found her
much like other children, only a little brighter
and more imaginative than any he had known.
It was the Artist, too, who named her "Mary
Sunshine." It happened the very day of his ar-
rival, when he first asked her name.
"Oh, just Mary," she had answered, fingering
the tight yellow braids that hung one over each
shoulder.
"Just Mary !" he exclaimed. "Why, I think
that is one of the nicest names I know."
"Do you?" asked Mary. "I don't. I think
Rosalind or Marie Antoinette is much nicer.
Even Rose or Lily is prettier than Mary. But
Mother does n't believe in fancy names."
"Well," said the Artist, "I shall call you Mary
Sunshine. It 's prettier than any of those names,
and it matches the color of your hair." So after
that she was always Mary Sunshine.
It was not long before they became fast
friends. This was really a wonderful event, for
she had had few friends before, and never one
like this. It was true that in the summer-time
the Point was overrun with children, and some of
them Mary Sunshine would have liked to know,
but she had learned that though the summer visi-
tors would smile quite kindly at her, and often
exclaim, "What a dear, quaint little girl !" when
they passed in their carriages, they did not care
to have their children play with a little "native"
in an ill-fitting gingham frock.
So it was more than wonderful that on the
very day after the arrival of the Artist, Mary
Sunshine should have found a second friend. It
happened on the beach, where Mary Sunshine
had brought the Artist. He had chosen a spot a
little apart from the gay crowd of bathers, and
while he was arranging his easel and making
preparations to begin, Mary Sunshine had been
so busy watching him that she did not notice the
slow approach of a little boy on crutches. It
was only when she began to find this rather dull,
MARY SUNSHINE
1125
and the Artist too preoccupied to talk to her, that
she saw him, sitting on the sand not far away, and
gazing rather wistfully in her direction. For a
long time they sat there, stealing glances at each
other, and each wishing that the other one might
speak. It was in these glances that Mary Sun-
shine discovered two things : first, the big, sad
eyes of the little boy, and, later, the crutches lying
on the sand beyond him.
After a while, the Artist came back to earth.
"Yes. I 'm staying over at Captain Welch's
cottage — over there." He pointed to a lonely
fisherman's cottage down the beach.
"I see," said the Artist; "I wonder if you
would n't like to know my little friend. Oh, Mary
Sunshine, come here a minute."
Mary Sunshine came, and rather shyly held out
her hand.
"Is your name really Mary Sunshine ?" the boy
asked, raising his eyes to the bright face.
'MARY SUNSHINE HAD BECOME THE ARTIST S GUIDE, FOR SHE KNEW ALL THE PRETTIEST PLACES ON THE SHORE.
and saw the children. For a moment he watched
them with a smile, then he left his work and went
over to the little boy.
"Hello, my boy," he said, holding out his hand.
"Hello," said the little boy, gratefully.
"Don't you like the crowd any better than we
do?"
"I don't know," the boy answered; "I don't
know them."
"Came over to the beach all alone, did you?"
"Yes, sir. You see there is n't any one to come
with me. I 'm just a Fresh Air Child."
"A Fresh Air Child?" the Artist repeated.
"Oh, no," she answered; "it 's really just Mary,
and the rest is only a nickname."
"I think it 's a lovely one," the boy said wistfully.
"I tell you," the Artist exclaimed, "we "11 give
you a nickname, too. What shall it be, Mary
Sunshine?"
Mary Sunshine clapped her hands. "I know.
Once I read a lovely story about a Little Lame
Prince. Let 's call — " she stopped suddenly, see-
ing a look of pain on the little boy's face. "Oh,
I 'm so sorry."
The little boy smiled bravely. "That 's all
risfht," he said. "I think that 's a fine nickname."
1126
MARY SUNSHINE
[Oct.,
After that he was always the Little Lame
Prince, and every day he played with Mary Sun-
shine. Mary Sunshine had become the Artist's
guide, for she knew all the prettiest places on the
shore and all the best views from the hilltops.
Wherever they went they always found time to
stop for the Little Lame Prince at the fisher-
man's cottage. And such beautiful times they
had together, for the Artist could not only
paint, but he could tell the most wonderful stories
of brownies and fairies, of kings and queens, or
just of little boys and girls. Almost every after-
noon when he was tired painting, he would
stretch out on the sand or the grass, and delight
the children with some tale. Then, when it was
over, if it was late and the Little Lame Prince
was tired, he would take him on his shoulder and
carry him back to the cottage by the sea.
It was not long before Mary Sunshine had dis-
covered something quite surprising about each
of her new friends. She found that her Artist
was not a common artist at all, but a very famous
one. Her mother's little cottage, that had once
been passed unnoticed, was now an object of in-
terest to all the summer people on the Point. In-
vitations were showered upon the Artist, and all
the gayest ladies at the hotels did their best to
meet him. Again and again he was asked to
exhibit his pictures. (For nearly every villa owner
wanted to buy one to hang on the wall of his city
house, so that he could say to his friends, "Oh,
yes, I got that in Maine; the Artist was living
right near our cottage, you know.") But, with
one exception, the Artist paid no attention what-
ever to these advances. The exception was a
very young and pretty girl who lived in one of
the largest of the cottages. Both the pretty girl
and her mother had evidently known the Artist
before, and the mother seemed to admire him
very much, for she was always smiling on him
and giving him invitations to her house. On
these occasions the Artist would look question-
ingly at the pretty girl, but, as she was generally
gazing indifferently into space and tapping her
foot impatiently, the Artist would politely refuse
the invitations and return to the society of Mary
Sunshine and the Little Lame Prince.
The other discovery was about the Little Lame
Prince himself. It was a very wonderful discov-
ery, for it meant a change in the little boy's
whole life. It was this: that some day he might
be cured, so that he could walk and run, quite
like other boys. Mary Sunshine never forgot
the look that came into his eyes when he told her
about it. But then his face grew sad again, for
it would mean an operation, and that would cost
a great deal of money— two hundred dollars,
perhaps. And the mother of the Little Lame
Prince, although she was the most beautiful mo-
ther that any boy ever had, was very poor, and
not nearly strong enough to earn so large a sum.
After Mary Sunshine learned about this, she
thought of it nearly all the time. She felt so
dreadfully sorry for the Little Lame Prince, and
she wondered with all her might if there was not
something she could do to help him. One eve-
ning, seeing the Artist walking beside the house,
smoking a good-night cigar, she ran out and
slipped her hand into his.
"Do you remember," she asked, "in the story
about the Little Lame Prince— did he get well?"
"Of course he did," the Artist said.
"What was it that made him well?"
"Why, it seems to me it was mostly fresh air
and sunshine" ; he smiled whimsically down at
the little girl beside him. "Merry Sunshine, I
guess," he added.
Mary Sunshine looked a little disappointed.
"Oh," she said, "our Little Lame Prince will
have to have an operation. Would n't it have
been nice just like the story?"
"Well," the Artist said, "I believe that even
with this Little Lame Prince, Mary Sunshine can
help a lot."
During the next week, Mary Sunshine was un-
usually thoughtful. She had made up her mind
quite firmly that in some way she would help the
Little Lame Prince to get well, and she had
partly decided on a plan. You see, every year
the summer people had a fair at the Casino.
Mary Sunshine had only been once, but she knew
that it was a very splendid affair. And she felt
quite sure that if she should make something and
tell them about the Little Lame Prince, they
would sell it for her there. The great difficulty
lay in deciding what to make. For at least a
week she thought about it. Then, finally, she
remembered that when she was there herself, she
had seen, at the children's table, some beautiful
big scrap-books with pictures in them of all sorts
and kinds. She had looked at them longingly,
but the price had been much greater than the sum
her mother had given her to spend. So she was
sure that a scrap-book ought to bring a large sum
of money.
The very day after she had come to this de-
cision, she hurried down-town to the drug store,
and asked "Uncle Joe" (who was everybody's
"uncle") if she might have some of the white
wrapping-paper off the big white roll. Uncle Joe
gave her more than she had hoped for, with a
stick of candy besides, and Mary Sunshine was
so happy that she forgot her primness enough to
skip all the way home. That day she refused to
I9I2-]
MARY SUNSHINE
1127
go on the daily excursion with her two friends,
and they started off without her, the Artist
rather puzzled, and the Little Lame Prince very
much disappointed. Meanwhile, Mary Sunshine
'I WONDER IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO GO FOR A DRIVE.
spent most of her day in the kitchen with her
mother's pinking-iron, neatly pinking the edges
of the big sheets of white paper. It was late
when she finished, but her mother, as she tucked
her into bed, offered to stitch the sheets firmly
together on the machine. So, although she was
very tired, Mary Sunshine was quite contented
with the big scrap-book that lay in her bureau
drawer, and went off to sleep dreaming of lovely
pictures, to be pasted on the white paper.
You would think it quite
an easy matter to fill a
scrap-book, I am sure, but
during the next ten days
Mary Sunshine found it
very difficult. The one
magazine that her mother
took was not profusely il-
lustrated, and it was much
the same in the houses of
the neighbors. To be sure,
she did find a few lovely
colored picture-cards that
people had been saving, and
these made the first few
pages quite gay. But when
the fair was only two days
off, there were still two
pages entirely empty. Mary
Sunshine had searched
every place that she could
think of. She had torn the
colored labels off the cans
of tomatoes and peas in the
cellar closet. She had cut
the figures out of the old
circus poster that the hired
man brought her from the
barber-shop window. And,
finally, she had cut out all
the pictures from her mo-
ther's seed catalogue. In-
deed, there was n't a place
where she had n't looked,
and still those two pages
were empty. Poor Mary
Sunshine could n't even
find anotherblack-and-white
picture, and she began to
feel quite desperate. Fi-
nally, she decided to ask
the Artist for advice. She
waited on the porch while
he finished breakfast, then,
when he came out, she
stopped him.
"Please," she said, "I
want to ask your advice."
"Yes," said the Artist, settling himself on the
top step.
"It 's about a scrap-book. I 'm making it for
the fair to-morrow. It 's to help the Little Lame
Prince to have an operation. And it 's all done but
1128
MARY SUNSHINE
the last two pages, and I can't find another pic-
ture anywhere." Mary Sunshine was danger-
ously near to tears.
"I see," the Artist said, quite seriously. "I
wonder if you would mind showing it to me?"
Mary Sunshine ran and got it, and the Artist
looked it over thoughtfully. When he had fin-
ished he spoke.
"What would you think of my painting a pic-
ture on those two pages?" he asked.
Now Mary Sunshine realized that the Artist
was a very great one, and she knew how kind of
him it was to offer, but she did not really think
that any picture painted by a man, by hand, could
compare with the gaily colored pictures in a mag-
azine or a seed catalogue. But she had been well
trained by her mother. So she answered politely,
if not enthusiastically, "That would be very nice.
Of course it is n't quite the same, but I don't be-
lieve they 'd mind much, do you ?"
"We might try it, anyway," the Artist said
modestly.
The next morning Mary Sunshine started for
the Casino with the precious scrap-book under
her arm. Her heart was beating very hard, and
several times her courage almost left her. But
she went on resolutely, even when she saw the
automobiles crowded around the door of the Ca-
sino and heard the noise and bustle within. She
entered very timidly, and stood for some time in
the big room before any one had time to speak to
her. Then, finally, she heard a very kind voice
beside her.
"Did you want anything, little girl?"
She turned and saw the pretty girl who had
been so cold to the Artist.
"Yes," Mary Sunshine answered^ "I brought
this scrap-book to be sold at the fair. It 's for a
Little Lame Prince — I mean a boy," she stam-
mered.
"I don't quite understand," the pretty girl
said, putting her arm around Mary Sunshine.
"Come over here and sit down, and tell me all
about it."
Mary Sunshine followed her into a quiet cor-
ner, and there she told her all about the Little
Lame Prince, the operation, and, finally, the
scrap-book. "Here it is," she said, at the end,
unwrapping it with pride.
"Oh !" exclaimed the pretty girl, "what a per-
fectly lovely one ! Did you make it all yourself?"
She turned the pages over carelessly until she
suddenly saw the last one. "Why ! What is
this?"
Mary Sunshine blushed guiltily. "Why—
that 's— that 's— well, you see, I could n't find
enough, and the Artist that 's staying at our
house did it for me. Of course it is n't a real
picture, but do you think they '11 mind much?
The water and sky are very pretty. The Artist
said it was the best one he ever did. I really
think if it was n't for that old boat, it would be
most as nice as a real picture."
The pretty girl was looking at it with misty
eyes. "I don't believe they '11 mind a bit," she
said gently. "You leave it with me."
Long before the fair began that afternoon the
news had spread like wild-fire that a picture by
the great Artist was to be auctioned off. And
the little story that went with the news added
not a little to the interest of the crowd that gath-
ered to see the sale and to bid for the picture.
But, strangely enough, it was the father of the
very pretty girl who made the highest bid and
carried home the scrap-book.
Late that afternoon, the pretty girl, looking
more bewitching than ever, drove up to the cot-
tage where Mary Sunshine lived. She had in
her hand a check large enough to pay for several
operations. In front of the cottage she stopped,
and she blushed quite rosily when she saw the
Artist sitting on the porch with Mary Sunshine
and the Little Lame Prince. They all stood up
as she approached, and waited silently for her to
speak. She looked at Mary Sunshine.
"The scrap-book sold beautifully," she said.
"It brought a great deal of money, and it 's all in
this envelop." She handed it to Mary Sunshine.
"Thank you ! Oh, thank you !" Mary Sunshine
said, quite simply. The pretty girl turned to go.
She hesitated a moment. Then she looked bravely
into the eyes of the Artist, and said softly:
"I wonder if you would like to go for a drive
with me ? I think the little girl has a surprise
that she wants to tell to the Little Lame Prince."
That night, when the Artist came back, Mary
Sunshine came out to meet him.
"Oh !" she said, slipping her hand into his, "it
was just like a fairy story, was n't it?"
"Yes," the Artist said, thinking of something
quite different, "just exactly!"
*/&>*&&£-
Naturc-scicncc
POR
YOUNG
FOLKS
edited by EDWARD F. BIOEL OW
^w
PFW"
SOME REMARKABLE HEAD-DRESSES
AND TAILS OF BIRDS
We are familiar with the suggestion that many
of our trades and many kinds of our handiwork
are copied from the work of birds and other ani-
mals, but all such notions are fanciful, incorrect,
and worthless. Man built mud huts long before
he knew anything about the mud-wasp, and wo-
man fastened the edges of skins together with
animal sinews or with vegetable fibers long be-
fore the tailor-bird was discovered, and in coun-
tries where such birds have never been seen; in
HIGHLY
CR
DECORATED HEAD OF THE
OWNED PIGEON.
Greenland, for instance, in Lapland, and in the
polar regions of the earth. If man learned
masonwork from the beaver, did the beaver teach
the ancient Egyptians to build the pyramids? All
such suggestions are silly, and every reader, espe-
cially every young reader, should disabuse his
mind of all similar nonsense. But if such fanci-
ful notions could be true, we might, perhaps, be
allowed to imagine that the idea of decorating the
human head was first suggested by the crests of
certain birds, although the "bonnets" of birds
were well developed ages before human beings
dreamed of the extravagant head-gear that has
been considered fashionable at different times.
These natural head plumes of some birds seem
to be true decorations, and of no more real ser-
vice to their wearers than are the elaborate and
costly hats that are made by the milliners of
to-day.
As in the case of birds with resplendent plum-
THE EARED PHEASANT.
age and highly ornamental tails, so those birds
most remarkable for their head plumes are chiefly
natives of tropical climates. The crowned pigeon
is found in and near New Guinea, and the um-
brella-bird in South America. The eared pheas-
ant, however, inhabits the high mountains of
China and Tibet, and we, too, have many crested
birds — some of them, like the wax-wing, the blue-
jay, and the cardinal, being nearly as familiar as
the robin and the bluebird. But in point of de-
velopment, and for sheer oddity of crest, such
birds as the King of Saxony bird of paradise and
THE CURIOUSLY CRESTED HEAD OF THE
UMBRELLA-BIRD.
1129
1130
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[Oct.,
THE SIX-SHAFTED BIRD OF PARADISE.
the six-shafted bird of paradise are without peer
among the feathered inhabitants of our woods
and fields. More familiar, but perhaps equally
attractive, are the wood-duck's flowing plumes,
the California valley-partridge's jaunty crest, and
the famous aigret of the egret.
While all can readily appreciate the beauty of
the remarkably shaped tails of the peacock and
the lyre-bird, we must not overlook the fact
that the usual symmetrical, fan-shaped tail
structure is also beautiful, even when it has no
THE KING OF SAXONY BIRD OF PARADISE.
markings, as among the blackbirds. But nature,
appreciating this opportunity for decoration,
has made these appendages the objects of her
special attention. It is the rule, rather than the
exception, for a bird's tail to be so marked or
colored as to give the impression that beauty, ap-
parently for its own sake, was the end sought.
Some tails are so decidedly ornamental in shape
that their bright color and fancy patterns seem
a matter of course. The common barn-swallow
furnishes us with an example of this.
Though nearly every conceivable color scheme
and pattern are exhibited by the tails of birds,
there are a few common, more or less distinct,
plans which may be traced. In some, notably in
the ruffed grouse, the feathers are of equal length
and uniformly barred; in many others this is
nearly the pattern, except that the two central
feathers (always two, because the entire number
of tail-feathers is always even) are comparatively
plain. The purpose of this form of coloring may
THE TAIL OF THE BARN-SWALLOW.
be to render the tail inconspicuous when closed ;
that, at least, is the effect, when one or two of
the central feathers only are seen from above.
Some of these birds have a habit of "flashing," or
suddenly expanding and refolding, the tail. The
effect is almost like the sudden turning on and
off of an artificial light, the usual marking of
such tails being a large patch of white or orange
on the outer feathers. A common form is a light
patch or spot usually near the tips of the feathers,
THE TAIL OF THE BARTRAMIAN SANDPIPER.
diminishing in size with each feather until it is
lost or barely discernible in the two middle ones ;
IQI2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
1131
or, again, the outer feather on each side may be
entirely white, the next one or two nearly so,
while all the rest are without a trace of white.
The marks may be confined to the outer vane,
THE TAIL OF THE BLUE-JAY WITH ITS
BEAUTIFUL FRINGE OF WHITE.
when they will probably appear in the closed or
nearly closed tail; they may be restricted to the
inner vane, and be seen only in the spread or
half spread tail; they may be conspicuous on
one vane and obscure on the other ; or they may
extend impartially across the feather, and thus
be constantly exposed.
Besides those shown in our illustrations, there
are many other examples of beautiful tails among
the warblers, jays, cuckoos, hawks, shore-birds,
and other groups. Many of the most elegant are
to be found only in the tropics.
The striking patches of black and white, or
dark and light, so common among warblers and
woodpeckers, may, by their very attractiveness,
be a bird's means of recognition, or of signal-
ing, or both. As for the purpose of the fancy
colors and patterns, the learned Darwin supposed
that the birds themselves appreciate and admire
their own beauty. It is not at all clear that they
have any other "excuse for being" than that they
really are beautiful.
Edmund J. Sawyer.
THE BEAVER
Some students of animal life claim that the near-
est approach to human ingenuity, among the crea-
tures of fur or feather, is undoubtedly exhibited
by the beaver. This wonderful animal closely
resembles the common muskrat in general appear-
ance, but is much larger, and has a tail flattened
crosswise instead of up and down.
The remarkable intelligence displayed by the
animals in selecting suitable sites for their dams,
in felling the trees in convenient locations and
dragging them into proper positions, and the won-
derful manner in which the upper sides of the
dams are plastered with mud and thus made per-
fectly water-tight, seem little short of impossible
THE REMARKABLY ORNAMENTAL TAIL OF THE PARTRIDGE (RUFFED GROUSE)
1132
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[Oct.,
to any one who has not had an opportunity to see
their wonderful work.
The beavers not only cut down trees for the
purpose of making dams, but they also use the
Fig. 3 is a typical "beavers' house," located not
far from Denver, Colorado. This house was over
ten feet in height above the water and thirty or
forty feet in diameter at the water's edge.
FIG. 3.
THE BEAVERS HOUSE.
FIG. I. A BEAVER DAM.
small, upper branches as a storage supply of food FiS- 4 shows a tree, now standing in the New
for winter use. These branches are cut into Y ork Z°ological Park, which was partly cut down
lengths of two or three feet, and then are carried
FIG. 2. THE BIG COTTONWOOD TREE CUT DOWN
BY THE BEAVERS.
beneath the water and into the beavers' houses,
or burrows, where the tender green bark is used
as the staple article of food during the winter.
Fig. 1 shows a dam made by the beavers.
Fig. 2 shows a giant Cottonwood tree, nineteen
inches in diameter inside the bark, that was cut
down by beavers at the edge of their dam. The
top of the tree fell into the water, where it was
promptly cut up by the beavers and carried away
to furnish their winter supply of food.
FIG. 4. IN THE NEW YORK ZOOLOGICAL PARK.
Photograph from the New York Zoological Society.
by beavers while these busy little animals were
building a dam. This photograph is interesting
not only because it illustrates how successfully
igi2.]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
1133
A SUBSTANTIAL PLAYHOUSE FOR YOUNG FOLKS.
the beaver can gnaw through the solid trunk of a
tree, but because it proves that we have, within
the limits of Greater New York, an excellent ex-
ample of the work of these wonderful little crea-
tures of the wild. Robert B. Rockwell.
A GOOD SUGGESTION FOR A PLAYHOUSE
Here is an illustration of Miss Ruth Lapham's
playhouse at Waveny Farm, near New Canaan,
Connecticut. Within this house she has all the
equipments of an ordinary cottage, but in minia-
ture ; she has a miniature kitchen, with a stove
and dishes, and a miniature sitting-room. Here,
alone, or with her young friends, she does house-
keeping for her dolls or for her associates in a
most enjoyable manner.
A "NOSEY" BIRD
I found this bird, a young, brown creeper, on
the sidewalk. Thinking to make a picture of it, I
took it home in my pocket.
With the camera in readiness, I placed my
winged sitter on another tripod. It immediately
fluttered off; which process was repeated many
times, till, finally, it tired, and stayed where
placed — but what was the use of picturing it
now? It looked like nothing more than a rolled-
up bunch of feathers.
After giving it a rest, I started to pick it up,
when it hopped along my arm, to my shoulder,
to my neck, over my head, and down to my nose,
where it remained perfectly still.
Slowly moving to a mirror, I saw that the bird
was in its natural shape, though on an unnatural
support — but here was my chance and I took ad-
vantage of it. So I stood before the camera and
' THE ' NOSEY BIRD.
pressed the bulb, with this odd picture as the
result of my first attempt at bird photography.
Arthur E. Anderson.
1134
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
[Oct.,
^"BECAUSE WE
[WANT TO KNOW"
is there any form of animal life that
can live without air?
Minneapolis, Minn.
Dear St. Nicholas: Is there any .kind of an animal,
insect, or bird that can live without air? I think there is,
but I am not sure. I hope you will be good enough to
answer my question.
Your reader,
Vance Pidgeon.
No animals can live without air. There are
some bacteria which can do so, but bacteria are
plants rather than animals. During periods of
dormancy, some animals can get along with very
little air, and much less than during active life.
Frogs in winter require very little, since their
activities are nearly stopped, and there is enough
air in the soil to support what little life they have
in cold weather. The stories of frogs incased in
stone for years are mostly false, and where there
is any basis for such stories, the animals are
in cracks in rocks where they have been, possibly,
from the time of their larval life. They are al-
ways, however, supplied with air in these places.
The only possible exception to the above state-
ment which I know of, is in cases of some ani-
mals that can actually be frozen and resume
their life upon being thawed out. Where this
occurs, the animals seem to have no activities
while frozen, and their life is stopped. They
might, in this condition, remain alive for a while
without any air, but simply because they are
dormant — H. W. Conn.
QUESTIONS REGARDING DOUBLE STARS
{For older readers)
Los Angeles, Cal.
Dear St. Nicholas : I would like the following ques-
tions answered :
1. In what direction — that is, toward what constellation
— is the proper motion of the star Alpha Centauri?
2. What is the average distance apart, in millions of miles,
of double stars which are known to be really bound to-
gether in the chains of reciprocal gravitation?
Your constant reader,
Charles F. Richter.
i. This beautiful double-sun system is moving
almost directly westward across the southern sky,
in a direction toward the northern boundary of
the Southern Cross.
2. This it is difficult to say, for we, as yet,
know so very few dimensions that we cannot now
even make a guess at the "average" size. It is
only those systems that are unusually near us
whose size in miles has so far been found; and
these are a very small percentage of the whole
number. It can be said, however, that, in gen-
eral, the systems are on a much larger scale than
our solar system. For example, the system Alpha
Centauri is made up of two suns which together
weigh about twice as much as our sun, the dis-
tance between them being 23.6 times the distance
from the sun to the earth. The system 02 Eridani
is a triple one, two of the suns being separated
by a distance as great as that from our sun to
Uranus, but these two are separated from the
great central sun about which they are both re-
volving by a distance at least twenty times as
great. In fact, it is probable that many of the
systems are hundreds and perhaps thousands of
times as extensive as our own. — Eric Doolittle.
PET DEER
Stella, Mo.
Dear St. Nicholas : I am sending to you a photograph
of me and my deer in Kent Deer Park. My uncle
owns this park. He has twelve big deer in the park. We
take the little fawns from their mama and keep them in the
feeding the deer with milk from a bottle.
yard at the house so they will be gentle. They suck milk
from a bottle. You will see in the picture that I am feed-
ing them.
We have two shepherd-dogs. The fawns are not afraid
of our dogs. There are lots of fox-squirrels in the park.
They come to the crib and eat corn. We do not care. If
our old cat is at the crib, they bark at her.
I will close for this time.
Leola Imogene Cook.
J9I2-]
NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
1 135
THE LINES OF LIGHT FROM A STREET LAMP
AMITYVILLE, L. I.
Dear St. Nicholas : I have often wondered why it is
that, when I look at a lighted street lamp and close my
eyes slowly, lines of light extend from it. If you can, I
wish that you would tell me the reason why this is so.
Marion B. Cook.
The lines of light that you see, when you look
at a street lamp with partly closed eyes, are due
not to the lamp, but to a peculiarity of the eye
itself. As you bring the lids together, the mois-
ture which lies upon the surface of the eye is
carried before them, and forms a watery lens,
through which you view the lamp. This lens is
saddle-shaped; that is, it is concave in the up-
down and convex in the right-left direction. The
rays from the lamp which strike the center of the
watery lens pass on, straight through the pupil,
to the center of the retina (the sensitive mem-
brane) of the eye, and are thus seen correctly.
But the rays which strike the curved surfaces of
the watery lens are bent up and down, and thus
reach the retina above and below the center.
These rays are then seen as long streamers,
projected downward and upward — the lines of
light to which you refer.
For the especial benefit of our older readers I
may add that the phenomenon is explained by
Professor J. Le Conte, in his book on "Sight,"
1881, pp. 87, 88.— Professor E. B. Titchener,
Cornell University, Ithaca, New York.
WHO ARE THE WHITE INDIANS?
M.vrr a wan, Mich.
Dear St. Nicholas: Who were the white Indians?
Where did they live? What were their customs and
language, and what was their supposed origin?
Yours truly,
Robert Seward.
The term "Croatan Indians," popularly called
"white Indians," is the legal designation in North
Carolina for a people evidently of mixed Indian
and white blood, found in various sections of the
State, but chiefly in Robeson County, and num-
bering approximately five thousand. For many
years they were classed with the free negroes,
but steadily refused to accept such classification,
or to attend the negro schools or churches, claim-
ing to be the descendants of the early native
tribes and of white settlers who had intermar-
ried with them. About twenty years ago, their
claim was officially recognized, and they were
given a separate legal existence under the title
of "Croatan Indians," on the theory of descent
from Raleigh's lost colony of Croatan. Under
this name they now have separate school provi-
sion, and are admitted to some privileges not
accorded to the negroes. The theory of descent
from the lost colony may be regarded as baseless,
but the name itself serves as a convenient label
fop the people.— Bureau of American Ethnology,
Washington, D. C.
a mail-box for bird study
Brooksvale, Conn.
Dear St. Nicholas : Our mail-box had been in its place
on the post only a few days, on our return to the farm for
the summer, before we began to have trouble. At first we
the event of the day — getting the mail and
seeing the wrens' nest.
found only a few pieces of short sticks which we thought
some mischievous boys had put there on their return from
school. After the box had been cleaned each day for a
number of days, and the sticks, as we thought, were re-
placed by some one each day, Papa began to scold and
talk about what could be done to people who interfere
with mail-boxes.
Then we made a discovery — the sticks we're all broken
very evenly, and the children watching the box saw two
small wrens busily at work. Papa said they were not to
be disturbed, and in a few days the sticks took on the form
of a neat home in one corner of the box. The lid did not
close so tightly but that the small birds had access at all
times, and then happened the most wonderful thing of all.
In the nest appeared a small spotted brown egg and then
five more — six in all. Every day came the R. F. D. mail-
man, and put mail in the box, and every day it was taken
out by the children or some member of the family, who took
this chance to peep at the eggs in the corner. In what
seemed a very short time came another discovery — five of
the tiniest little bodies occupied the home in the corner of
the box. Really it seemed as though they were all mouths,
and how busy the father and mother were taking care of
their babies, and without being much disturbed by the
daily visit of the mail-man.
Uncle Sam carries many queer things in the mail, and
has to deal with many queer people, but we doubt if he
ever before had tenants like the wrens who occupied our
mail-box, or that gave so much real pleasure to children.
Linda McMaster.
FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
TA1E WOLF
Gs?o A.fvi'rt-Jjgg
Once there was a little lamb. He had soft white wool and pretty bright eyes,
and he lived with his brothers and sisters and the old mama sheep on a big farm.
All day long the lambs played in a field. But at night, when the sun began to
go down behind the hill, the old farmer came, and locked them all up in a place
called the sheepfold, where they would be safe and warm until the morning.
Now the little lambs did not like this at all. They thought it was horrid to
be locked up while the meadow was still warm and sunny, and they fretted and
grumbled because they had to come in so early. But when the old mama sheep
told them it would soon be quite dark outside, and that then a great wolf would
come prowling around looking for little lambs to eat, they were glad to be safe
inside, all but this naughty little lamb who liked to have his own way. He
wanted to see what the dark was like. He said he was n't afraid of an old wolf ;
he did n't believe there was one, and if there was, it could n't hurt him ; he could
run faster than any old wolf.
At last, one day, he crept behind a big bush and kept as still as a mouse until
the mama sheep and his brothers and sisters were all locked up in the sheepfold
and the old farmer had gone away to his house. Then he scampered out. How
nice it was to be out all alone by himself ! He could not keep still a moment, he
was so happy. He ran round and round the big meadow. He nibbled at the
green grass and sweet clover, and by and by, when he was thirsty, trotted off to
the brook and took a good long drink of the cool water. Then he scampered
through the field again, and rolled over and over in the soft long grass. The
sun went lower and lower behind the hill, until at last he was quite gone and the
little lamb could not see him any more. It grew darker and darker. Then the
FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
1137
stars came out, one by one, and blinked at him in such a strange way that he
began to think he would not like being alone in the night, after all.
Then, up from behind the dark woods, came the big round moon. As it rose
higher and higher in the sky, it seemed
to be looking rip-ht at him. He tried to
hide, but everywhere he went the moon
was watching him, and seemed to be
saying, " You naughty little lamb ! You
naughty little lamb ! "
Big black shadows began to move
over the fields. He had never seen
anything like that in the daytime, and it
frightened him. He was too frightened
to play now, and he did n't even feel
hungry any more. The night wind
swept through the field, and the dew
came down and wet the grass and his
pretty coat and his poor little feet. He
was so cold, he shivered.
Just then, from out the dark woods
§'
"HE COULD NOT KEEP STILL A MOMENT,
HE WAS SO HAPPY."
came a dreadful sound. It was the howl
of the old wolf. Oh, how frightened
the little lamb was ! How he ran !
Through the cold, wet grass, over briers
and stones, and up the rough, dark road,
never stopping till, all out of breath, he
reached the sheepfold.
The door was shut. He pushed
against it with all his might, and cried,
" Oh, let me in ! Please let me in ! "
But the old farmer had locked it tight,
and it would not open.
" Oh, let me in ! " cried the little lamb,
as he butted his poor little head against
the door. " Let me in ; the old wolf is
coming ; he is going to eat me up ! Oh,
please let me in ! "
And the mama sheep heard him, and
you cannot think how sad and worried
she felt to have her little lamb out there
'HE TRIED TO HIDE, BUT EVERYWHERE HE WENT
THE MOON WAS WATCHING HIM."
in the cold and dark, and the old wolf coming, too.
"Oh, my little lamb!" she called through the door, "how did you get out
Vol. XXXIX.— 143.
1138
EOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
[Oct.,
there?" And the little lamb said, " I stayed out 'to see the dark; but, oh, if you
only will let me in, I '11 never, never be naughty any more."
And the poor mama sheep cried, " Oh, I cannot open the door ! "
And just then came that dreadful sound again, the howl of the old wolf, nearer
and nearer. The little lamb heard it ; how it frightened him ! The old mama
sheep heard it, too, and oh, how frightened she was for her little lamb !
"Oh, my child, my child!" she called through the door. "Run, run to the
thorn-bush, and creep away under to the very middle, and stay there all night
long, so the old wolf will not get you ! Oh, run ! run quickly, my little lamb, my
precious little lamb ! "
And the little lamb ran as fast as he could to the thorn-bush, and pushed away
under it, to the very middle, as the mama
sheep had told him. The branches
grew very close to the ground, and the
big, ugly thorns stuck into him and tore
his pretty coat and scratched him until
the blood came. But he did not care for
that or for anything, if only the old wolf
did not get him. And there he lay all
in a heap, he was so frightened.
Just then, up came the old wolf,
snarling and growling. He went run-
ning and jumping round and round the
bush, poking his nose in everywhere,
trying to get the little lamb.
But the sharp thorns stuck into his
nose and eyes, and hurt him so much,
he was glad to jump back. Over and
over again he tried, but every time the
big, ugly thorns stuck into him and made
him go howling back. And this made
the old wolf so mad that he growled and
snarled all the more.
The little lamb was almost dead, he
was so frightened. Oh, how he wished
he was with his mama safe in' the
sheepfold !
It was dreadful ! But at last the long
night was over, and down under the
thorn-bush came little streaks of light
that grew bigger and brighter every moment, and at last the old wolf
crept away. He could hear him snarling and growling as, he ran across the
fields, but he was quickly lost to sight in the shadows of the dark woods.
The little lamb beg-an to breathe easier now, but still he did not dare to crawl
out from under the thorn-bush just yet, for fear the old wolf might come back
and catch him after all. So he kept very quiet and just waited for the sun to
come up and make it all bright day, for then he knew the sheepfold would open
and his mama and all his brothers and sisters would surely come and look for him.
'OH, LET ME IN!' CRIED THE LITTLE LAMB.'
1912.]
FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
1139
Then all the little birds began to twitter and chirp, and the morning air blew
fresh and cool, rustling the leaves, and bringing the sweet odor of the clover from
the meadows ; and pretty soon the sun shone right under the bush, and then he
heard his mama call-
ing, " Oh, my little
lamb, are you there ? "
Oh, how glad he was
to hear his dear ma-
ma's voice once more
and know he was safe
at last !
And when he crawled
out with his pretty coat
all dirty and torn, the
good mama sheep just
ran up and loved him,
and called him her
"precious little lamb"
over and overand over.
And all his brothers
and sisters crowded
around him and smiled
on him, they were so
glad to find him safe and sound, and to know the old wolf did not get him.
Then the mama sheep took him down to the brook, and washed him and
gave him some of the sweetest grass she could find for his breakfast, and let
him stay in the warm sun, close by her side, all day. because he had been so
cold and frightened all night long.
And after that he never wanted to have
his own way any more, but did what-
ever the mama sheep told him, and
tried to be a good little lamb.
Geo. A. Tun 6
"JUST THEN, UP CAME THE OI.D WOLF, SNARLING AND GROWLING.'
'THEN THE MAMA SHEEP TOOK HIM DOWN TO THE BROOK, AND WASHED HIM.'
The wonder-working minds of our clever girls and boys
have wrought marvels indeed, this month ; and almost all
the prize-winners come from the new members of the
League, which is very gratifying, and calls for a word of
reminder concerning our method of awarding prizes. Com-
petitors, remember, must win the silver badge before they
can receive the gold one. Once in a while, as with the
present competition, we almost regret the necessity of this
rule, for several of the contributions here printed with the
familiar(»S(7few Badge)z\wp\y deserve the first prize.
Let us all agree, however, that the rule is a good one.
The successful competitors of this month will be spurred
by it to surpass even their fine introductory performance";
and so we shall all be the gainers when, as they certainly
will, they win the award that, this time, is withheld from
them by the League rule of " Silver Badge first."
And, moreover, our joy in these October contributions
is doubled by the fact that their excellence is not confined
to one particular set of workers, but is shared in almost
equal degree by the writers of prose and of verse, and by
artists with the pencil as well as the camera. Assuredly,
we have made "a good beginning" of another chapter —
and let us hope the best — in the League's history and
achievefnents.
PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 152
In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.
PROSE. Gold badge, Elisabeth Haerle (age 13), Osnabruck, Germany.
Silver badges, Marian Stuart (age 14), Skaneateles, N. Y. ; Eleanor Steward Cooper (age 17), Lansdowne, Pa. ; Janet
Sheppard (age 11), New York City; Mary Frost (age 11), Victorville, Cal.
VERSE. Gold badge, Pauline P. Whittlesey (age 13), Altadena, Cal.
Silver badges, Janet Hepburn (age 16), Bloomington, Ind. ; Edna F. Wood (age 15), Northampton, Mass.; Edith
Shaw (age 13), Westfield, England.
DRAWINGS. Silver badges, Margaret L. Ayer (age 17), Philadelphia, Pa.; Florence Fisk (age 15), Springfield,
Mass. ; Miriam Alice Gerstle (age 14), San Francisco, Cal.
PHOTOGRAPHS. Silver badges, Esther R. Harrington (age 13), Orange, Mass. ; Caroline Archbold (age 16),
Syracuse, N. Y. ; Rosamond Howland (age 13), Chicago, 111. ; Margaret P. Cooke (age 15), Paterson, N. J.
PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badges, George H. McDonald (age 15), Rock Island, III. ; Elsa Anna Synnestvedt (age
15), Pittsburgh, Pa.
PUZZLE ANSWERS. Gold badge, Mary A. O'Connor (age 15), Brooklyn, N. Y.
Silver badge, R. Kenneth Everson (age 16), New York City.
'CURIOSITY." BY PAULL JACOB, AGE 17. (HONOR MEMBER.)
CUR1USIIY. BY JOSEPHINE MURI'HY, AGE 13.
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
1141
A MESSAGE
BY JANET HEPBURN (AGE l6)
(Silver Badge)
Dark stretched ahead the dreary days of life,
And vacant, useless, seemed each hopeless hour,
To him who, seized in Suffering's cruel grasp,
Had lost his former joy, his pride, and power.
How often had he drawn that faithful bow
Across the sweet-voiced strings, while loud or low,
Those glorious notes, fraught full with joy or woe,
Had held the listening throngs in music's clasp !
But now his crippled hands no more could wake
That mighty voice, yet he had gone, this night,
To hear another draw those trembling trills,
Those notes bespeaking saddened thoughts or bright,
From out the singing strings. His friends had said,
To hear another play would bring but dread
Of all those idle, weary years ahead. —
Softly the first faint note his sad heart fills.
"CURIOSITY." BY MARGARET V. COOKE, AGE 15.
(SILVER BADGE.)
Louder, clearer, sweeter swells the music,
The quiet hall is filled with rapturous strains ;
Then plaintive measures which the soul express,
Soft falling like the spring's life-giving rains,
Soon reach the old man's soul. His weary face,
Grown bright with joy no suffering can displace,
Reflects that love which pain may not debase,
For Music brought this message : Happiness.
A GOOD BEGINNING
BY ELEANOR STEWARD COOPER (AGE 1 7)
(Silver Badge)
A brief fifty-three 3'ears ago, the observations of Henri
Dunant on the conditions following the battles of
Magenta and Solferino, bore ample testimony to a great
need, and roused civilization to fill it. At that time, the
medical service attendant upon armies engaged in active
warfare was appallingly inefficient. Military hospitals
were not only ill equipped, but their ambulances, filled
with wounded, were frequently attacked and their sur-
geons captured or killed. They were of purely national
character ; the hospital flags of one nation differed in
device from those of another, and were, as a rule, un-
known to the enemy.
To-day the armies of conflicting nations are attended
by corps of surgeons and nurses who are competent and
equipped to render adequate relief. Their red cross, of
international adoption, is a flag taking precedence of the
flags of all nations whatsoever, holding the field in time
of battle for the care of the wounded of both conquered
and conquering, and standing, in time of peace, for
bloodless warfare against ills incident to great disasters.
The Red Cross is a happy example of ideal accom-
plishment in that it realizes a vision of the past, and
leads to the fulfilment of visions of the present. Close
to our hearts to-day is the dream of so firm a federation
in spirit of nations politically distinct that complete
cessation of war and the peaceful arbitrament of diffi-
culties will be possible. We are come to believe that
our feeling and our work should be broad enough to be
not only national but world-wide. It is a long step on a
difficult way — a good beginning indeed — when nations
unite to recognize the cause of humanity, and when we
are no longer satisfied to translate our good-will to men
into localized terms.
A GOOD BEGINNING
UY MARIAN STUART (AGE 1 4)
(Silver Badge)
It is spring, and that magic hour before dawn. The
shade-trees on a large lawn are talking with the fruit-
trees in the orchard. It is not a widely known fact,
but trees can talk just before sunrise.
Although the trees on the lawn have dainty green
dresses, they look enviously at the beautiful ruffled
party gowns of the fruit-trees.
"You think you look very fine, don't you?" a par-
ticularly tall maple queries. "Wait until next fall. You
have the good beginning, but we have the best ending.
'He who laughs last laughs best !' "
"Well," a saucy little apple-tree drawls sweetly as she
shakes out her fluffy pink skirts, "I never saw the sense
of that proverb. I 'm sure I would as soon be gay and
beautiful now as to wait — " but the sun is rising, and
their hour of enchantment is over.
It is autumn, and the same magic hour. If the shade-
" CURIOSITY." BY CAROLINE ARCHBOLD, AGE 16.
(SILVER BADGE.)
trees had to wait until they were matrons before ap-
pearing at their best, they have waited to some purpose.
The lawn is resplendent with trees in gowns of rich
reds, yellows, and browns.
The fruit has been gathered from the orchard, and
nothing is left the fruit-trees but a few dry leaves and
memories of a happy summer.
A particularly tall maple in flaming red looks over at
1142
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[Oct.,
the little apple-tree, and asks, "Now don't you wish your
beginning had n't been so good, and you were like us
now?"
The little apple-tree does not answer. She is not
thinking of the beauty, but of the usefulness of the
orchard. She thinks of the good fruit the orchard has
been able to give man because of the beautiful blossoms,
and she knows a good beginning is best.
FASHIONABLE. BY MARGARET L. AVER, AGE 17.
(SILVER BADGE.)
A GOOD BEGINNING
BY JANET SHEPPARD (AGE II)
(Silver Badge)
Betsy was working in her garden. The sun was hot,
and her back was tired, but she persevered, for her
father had said that he would bring back from the city
a lot of rose-bushes, and if she had her garden in good
condition, she should have one. He was coming back
this very day, so Betsy was very anxious.
Her garden was not large, but the beautiful order in
which it was kept added greatly to its charm. There
were pansies, violets, roses, and Betsy's special pride
was a bed of old-fashioned pinks. This was in its
glory just now, and Betsy hoped that the sight of his
favorite flower in such profusion, with not a weed to
hinder its growth, would help to induce her father to
give her the rose-bush.
She rose slowly, for even ten-year-old backs will get
tired stooping so long, and as she looked down the
driveway and out to the road, she saw her father's car-
riage slowly approaching. She flew to get dressed, and
when she came down-stairs, she found her father quite
ready to go with her.
Betsy led the way with a mixture of pride and fear
to her little plot. The roses nodded at her as if glad to
welcome their sweet mistress, and the pinks seemed to
say, "Come and kiss us, for you are one of us."
Betsy's father did not say all he felt, but praised her
for her care, and said she might have the rose-bush.
Years afterward, little Betsy became a famous maker
and planner of gardens, so while the work in the garden
seemed all for the sake of a rose-bush, it really was a
good beginning for much greater things.
TO A MESSENGER
BY BRUCE T. SIMONDS (AGE 16)
{Honor Member)
Carrier-pigeon, carrier-pigeon,
Bird with never weary wings,
Hither to my airy casement,
Where the ancient ivy clings ;
While the eastern sky is flaming,
Fly, — to whom, no need of naming ;
Where the lattice, twined with roses,
Half conceals her, half exposes,
As she watches for this greeting
All my former vows repeating,
Borne by thee, O carrier-pigeon ; —
Hasten with unwearied wings !
Carrier-pigeon, carrier-pigeon,
Art thou back so soon, with wings
Still unwavering, still unwearied,
Strong for greater, harder things?
Hast thou nothing, then, to leave me?
Ah ! thou couldst not thus deceive me !
There I see the dainty token,
She is true, — our love unbroken ;
Naught can part us now, but ever
She will hear my words, and never
Shalt thou fail to fly, O pigeon,
Back and forth, on willing wings !
A GOOD BEGINNING
BY MARY FROST (AGE II)
(Silver Badge)
The night passed on. The stars faded ; faint streaks of
light were seen on the eastern horizon. The mountain
turned purple ; gray clouds about it became pink, il-
lumined with the light of the coming sun. Heavenly
perfumes of the first wild flowers floated in the air.
Even the noble pines and firs, at the base of the moun-
tain, seemed to
lose their black-
ness and become
lighted by the
magnificent glory
of the rising sun.
The eternal snow
at the top of the
mountain turned
pink, then red.
The rocks and
boulders seemed
to be on fire. The
waving fields of
barley and wheat,
in the valley, be-
came a sea of liv-
ing green moved
gently by the sum-
mer breeze. A
nightingale's song
was floated by the
breeze into the
valley, over the
fabled mountain,
and beyond, to the
blue, blue sea.
The golden shafts of the sun shone through the
clouds. The misty mountains on the opposite side of
the valley looked hazy and blue in the distance. The
* CURIOSITY. BY ESTHER R. HARRINGTON,
AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.)
IQI2.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
1143
3THY V. TYSON, AGE
BY VIRGINIA NIRDLINGEK, AGE 13. BY ROSAMOND HOWLAND, AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.)
BY MAY DAIR ROCK AFALLOW, AGE 13.
MILDRED OPPENHEIMEK, AGE 13.
"CURIOSITY."
UY KATHARINE W. TOWN SEND, AGE 14.
clouds grew yellow, red, orange, — and, lo ! the sun was
up in all his glory, shining above them.
Was this not a good beginning for a day?
A MESSAGE
BY IRMA A. HILL (AGE 15)
(Honor Member)
Through all the night the storm had raged away,
Like some great dragon o'er the angry sea ;
And when the night had almost ceased to be,
The heavy clouds hung threatening and gray.
Then suddenly, beyond the waning night,
One tiny sunbeam smiled through mists so drear,
And shone and shone, a message of good cheer,
Till once again the earth was filled with light.
So then shines hope — a single golden beam
Of sunshine — though the storm is raging still ;
And when all else bows to the tempest's will,
When clouds the gloomiest and darkest seem,
Undaunted, always there, through good and ill,
Hope still shines on, a message and a gleam.
A GOOD BEGINNING
BY ELIZABETH JEANES (AGE 10)
Little Sally Minor loved music, but as her parents
were too poor to buy a piano and pay for some lessons,
she never got any musical education.
But one day as she was walking along the street, she
saw a sign on a piano store which read, "Come in and
try our pianos."
Sally, not knowing it was only for buyers, walked in,
and as no one was around at that moment, sat down at
a piano, and began to play.
She played very well by ear, and soon a great crowd
of people massed about her to hear this beautiful music.
She stopped suddenly in the middle of a piece, looked
up, blushed, and then tried to get away.
But the owner of the store checked her, and drawing
her on his knee, asked her if she liked music.
"I like it very much, sir, only all those people frighten
me," replied Sally, politely.
"But, my child, you play wonderfully," said Mr.
Trainer, for that was his name. "Who teaches you?
You must have a very capable teacher."
"Who teaches me?" said Sally, opening her eyes in
amazement, "why, no one teaches me !"
"Nobody teaches you ! You have never had any
lessons ? My dear little girl, you are the best child
player in the world !" exclaimed Mr. Trainer. "But you
need some instruction so that, when you grow older,
you will reach a point where no one can outdo you. I
will help you."
A music teacher was at once engaged for Sally, who
worked earnestly for many years, and to-day Madame
Sallina Minora, known before only as little Sally Minor,
is a great musician, and very rich, famous throughout
the world for her marvelous playing.
1144
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[Oct.,
A GOOD BEGINNING
BY ELISABETH HAERLE (AGE 13)
(Gold Badge)
Last summer, when I lived in the country, I learned to
know a splendid way of beginning a clear day of early
summer. I would get up long before breakfast, and
hurry out-of-doors into my woodland. Any place is
beautiful in the freshness of the morning, but my wood-
A HEADING FOR OCTOBER. BY LILY KING WESTERVELT, AGE I
land especially so. My heart would sing for joy as I
gazed around me, admiring the deep, clear, cool azure
of the sky, watching the dew on the grass sparkle with
rainbow hues, hearing the birds whistle with joy, and
enjoying the green and gold symphony all around me,
as the sun sifted its wealth through the branches of the
trees. Oh, how fresh and invigorating was the air ! How
fragrant the wild roses, some of which had laid their
golden hearts bare just to greet this morning !
"There never was such a beautiful world !" I would
think, and such a thought is certainly a good one with
which to begin a day. To see and appreciate beauty is
always a good beginning for any day. And if the
beauty is a sky-blue, crystal-clear, and golden morning
in the woods, the glad memory of it will remain with
A FAIRY MESSAGE
BY PAULINE P. WHITTLESEY (AGE 13)
(Gold Badge)
A tiny fairy messenger
Before a spider stood,
The former clothed in Lincoln green,
And on his head a hood.
T come from Mab," he said, ''the queen
Who holds court in the wood.
'She wishes you to weave for her,
Upon the meadow green,
Three beautiful pavilions,
Full rich in silv'ry sheen.
And make these palaces with care,
Fit for the fairy queen.
''And gather at the dawn of day,
Dewdrops of crystal pure,
Make them the very prettiest
That you, sir, can secure.
Hang them about the palaces,
And that they 're fine, be sure."
So spoke the fairy messenger,
Then quickly went away ;
And each one of those castles fair
Was spun without delay.
And you may see them if you look
At dawn on some warm day.
"curiosity." by genette hemenway, age 16.
one always, and brighten cheerless, gray days that may
come afterward. But even these can be well begun by
thinking beautiful or happy thoughts. Good beginnings
of days lie in the heart, not in the beauty of things
around us.
If I had not had gladness in my heart, the gladness
of the morning would have been lost to me. To begin
a day well one must feel beauty in the heart ; and then
one can truly appreciate whatever is beautiful that one
sees or hears.
"CURIOSITY." BY REGINALD C TH0RNHI1.L, AGE 16.
A GOOD BEGINNING
BY LELIA L. DELAPLANE (AGE 15)
One morning, a few days after the three young robins
in the nest in the elm-tree had taken their first lessons
in flying, Papa Robin decided that it was time for their
singing lesson. He perched them in a row on a large
branch, and took a seat opposite.
Each little robin sat perfectly still. Papa Robin
opened his bill and gave a very easy little warble, and
nodded to them to do it, too. All were perfectly still,
so he patiently sang again, with no better results. A
third and a fourth time he sang the little song, but in
vain. A fifth time, and he became very much dis-
gusted, and was just on the point of flying away to
sooth his ruffled feelings, when suddenly a weak but
very sweet little warble came from the throat of one
small baby. Papa Robin was immediately puffed up with
fatherly pride.
Eying his accomplished child, he seemed to say, "My
dear son, a very good beginning indeed ! I am very
proud of you. You shall have the sweetest, juiciest
worm to be found." And he flew away to find it.
1912. J
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
1145
THE FAIRY MESSENGER
BY EDNA F. WOOD (AGE 15)
(Silver Badge)
O little, flashing firefly,
Flitter, flutter, guide me by,
Past the horned owl so grim,
Past the shadows, wavering dim.
Lead me, by your tiny light,
Down the hill and through the night,
O'er the wall, until we come
To the mystic, fairy home.
Elves and fairies hurry here,
Guided by the lights so clear.
From the shadows comes the queen,
Sparkling in her satin green.
All the fireflies form a row,
Swaying, swinging, to and fro ;
With the frogs, the cricket choir
Lift their voices, soaring higher.
Loved and honored, just and fair,
Queen of fairies, follow there,
Torches light her mossy way.
Dance along, O sprites so gay.
Thus they dance the long night through,
Till the moon is pale in hue ;
Till the fireflies' torches wane,
And the owls wing home again.
A GOOD BEGINNING
BY DOROTHY M. ROGERS (AGE 1 7)
(Honor Member)
A huge pile of soft, snowy-looking clouds were fast
appearing over the northwestern horizon. Behind them
came the fierce black thunder-cloud, looking ominous
enough to daunt the bravest hearts. Distant rumbles of
each flash seemed nearer. Just as the people were ex-
pecting every next flash to be right overhead, the wind
shifted suddenly to the southwest, and the black cloud
changed its course, and went to the southwest also.
A few hours after the cloud had passed from sight,
two farmers, each on his way home, stopped their
horses for a few moments' conversation about the pe-
culiar movement of the storm that was not.
"I tell ye, Bill," said the first, "I thought we was in
'A HEADING FOR OCTOBER." BY ETHEL F. FRANK, AGE II.
"FASHIONABLE." BY ALLEN MCGILL, AGE 12.
thunder could be heard, and all who saw and heard
prophesied a terrific storm.
Higher and higher mounted the cloud, fiercer and
more loudly sounded the wind, nearer and more dis-
tinctly could be heard the thunder. The timid quaked
with fear, and even the boldest looked anxiously around.
By this time, the sun had become obscured and the
earth was enveloped in a gray darkness. Lightning
could be seen playing along the western horizon, and
Vol. XXXIX. -144.
fer it good 'n' plenty a while ago. Never saw the sky
look so threatin'."
"I 'gree with ye, Jake ; it was a good beginnin' sure
enough, but it kinder petered out."
"Jes' so, Bill. I ain't kickin' none, fer my hay won't
stand any rain jes' now, an' I ain't 'ticular fond o' thun-
der-storms."
"Neither am I, but when it acted so sort o' queer and
shifted ter the sou'west, I says ter myself, 'Now ain't
that the way with some people ; they make er lot of fuss
and bluster 'bout what they kin do, an' then they jes'
sort o' fizzle an' go out.' " And after a few more words,
the two old moralists passed on.
MESSENGERS
BY ALBERT REYNOLDS ECKEL (AGE 1 6)
(Honor Member)
From powerful nations, and islands,
And states which have ceased to be,
They have come, and from desert and city,
Brought messages over the sea.
They ride on the missives they carry,
And never grow tired at all ;
They are infinitesimal envoys,
But thousands respond when they call.
Though each can convey but one message,
They are ready to serve poor and rich ;
And they stick to one thing till they get there,
With never a halt nor a hitch.
Full many have come to my albums ;
And there they ever must stay.
There are thousands and thousands of them,
All ordered in neat array.
And often I sit and survey them,
These couriers which never need tramp ;
And I think of the lands and the peoples
Which are served by the postage-stamp.
1146
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
[Oct.,
A GOOD BEGINNING
BY MURIEL W. AVERY (AGE 1 7)
{Honor Member)
There have recently been organized, in nearly every
city, civic improvement societies, for the purpose of
cleaning up and beautifying those cities. Parks are laid
out, trees planted, and disfiguring bill-boards torn down.
"FASHIONS." BY MIRIAM A. GKRSTLE, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)
In every case the result shows the worthiness of the
undertaking. But there are places outside the city,
beyond the reach of these organizations, that are fast
losing their beauty, because of the carelessness of pic-
nickers and campers.
Recently I visited one of the most beautiful glens in
New England, one I had not seen for two years. Then,
before it was connected by trolley-lines, it was a wild,
woodsy place, frequented only by lovers of nature, who
came either for the trout-fishing, up-stream, or to gather
the trailing arbutus which grew abundantly there. Now
I scarcely recognized it. Needless to say, the arbutus
was gone, torn up heed-
lessly by the roots, and
scarcely one white birch
stood unscarred. But
greatest was my sur-
prise, when, reaching the
foot-bridge, I looked be-
low to where the water,
gurgling, slipped between
the stones, — no, not
stones now, but picnic
boxes, sardine cans, olive
bottles, rusty tin cracker
boxes, and every known
receptacle for something
to eat. Naturally you
ask who had come here?
Picnics from the neigh-
boring college towns ;
children and young peo-
ple representing the most
finely educated families
in Massachusetts. Yet,
unconsciously, each had
contributed his portion,
and, since "example is
powerful," every one had followed suit.
Surely something must be done to keep these places
from being so defaced, and our duty revolves itself into
four words, a phrase which fits the needs of every pic-
FASHIONABLE. BV FLORENCE FISK,
AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)
nicker, "Pick up after yourself." And cannot we, the
young people of America, help to save these woods we
have enjoyed, and, with that motto, give this new
movement a good beginning ?
THE MESSENGER
BY EDITH SHAW (AGE 13)
{Silver Badge)
High in the heavens the sun shone down
With a scorching heat and strong,
But ever across the rolling heath,
The messenger sped along.
And ever he turned to north and south,
And ever to east and west ;
Though never a creature met his eye,
His horse he faster pressed.
So many a weary hour he rode,
And never slacked his speed,
Till by a bubbling spring he stopped,
And there refreshed his steed.
But now the sun was sinking fast
Amid its western glow ;
The messenger spurred hard his horse,
And sighed and muttered low.
And when the sun had disappeared,
And birds had ceased to sing,
There rode into the market square
The messenger of the king.
THE ROLL OF HONOR
No. 1. A list of those whose work would have been used had space
permitted.
No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to encouragement.
PROSE, 1
Elsie Terhune
Harriet W. McKim
Henry Pallatroni
Helen A. Douty
Wyatt Rushton
Helen M. Shoop
William W. Ladd
Katherine Guy
Frances D.
Pennypacker
Winifred S. Stoner, Jr.
Ruth B. Brewster
Mildred Furst
Martha H. Comer
Arthur H. Nethercot
Louise van B. Douglas
Nathaniel Dorfman
Dorothy May Russell
.Joseph B. Kelly
Naomi Lauchheimer
Catherine F. Urell
Lucy M. Hodge
Aileen L. Lefler
Henry Ackerman
William Karl
Daniel Greene
Emily Goetzmann
Jalie E. Neville
Nathan W. Wilensky
Eugenia Towle
Dorothy Reynolds
Grace Hirsch
Vernon P. Williams
John B. Hyatl, Jr.
Rosalind P. Bigelow
Cornelia Tucker
Marjorie Scudder
Leah Rosetti
Eliza A. Peterson
Helen C. Briggs
Marian E. Manley
Alison Hastings
FASHIONABLE.
BV CHRISTOBELL C. GUV,
AGE 14.
Charlotte Chichester
J Norman Klein
Thomas Stewart
Catherine Beck
Edith Townsend
Adelaide Noll
Margaret E. Beakes
Elizabeth Macdonald
Helen Roberts
Marion M. Casey
Mary Van Fossen
William L. Hawes
Mary C. Williams
Elizabeth Ziegenfelder
Frederika W. Hertel
Janet E. Prentice
Rebekah B. Hoffman
PROSE, 2
Beatrix B. Newport
Mever F'ineberg
Helen B. Jones
Virginia Williams
ioi2.]
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
1147
Nelson C. Munson
Helen M. Bailey
Marion Roper
VERSE, i
Nellie Adams
Phoebe S. Lambe
Doris N. Chew
Lucile B. Beauchamp
Coralie Austin
George M. Enos
Mary F. Williams
Mollie Crandall
Elsie L. Lustig
Hazel K. Sawyer
Lucy A. Mackay
Joan Waterlow
Weare Holbrook
Eleanor Michnun
Vernie Peacock
Delma V. George
Marian Shaler
Clifton J. Furnas
Renee Geoffrion
Bertha E. Walker
Josephine N. Felts
Mary Smith
Elizabeth Kieffer
Elizabeth Eltinge
Katherine Bull
Laura Hales
Pattie Martin
Eleanor K. Newell
Leigh Hanes
Marion Dale
Margaret Finck
Lois Adams
Jeannette Ridlon
Ellen L. Hoffman
Gladys H. Meldrum
Kathryn Turner
Sarah M. Bradley
Gordon K. Chalmers
Betty Humphreys
Eleanor Johnson
VERSE, 2
Isabelle B. Hill
Florence Cannon
Alice McElwee
Frances Struller
Georgene Davis
Ethel Litchfield
Dorothy H. Mack
Ella Loughridge
Coxey H. Ford
Joseph F. Scott
DRAWINGS, i
E. Theo. Nelson
Jean McPherson
Alison M. Kingsbury
Jane B. Yeatman
Nellie L. Leach
Lily Madan
Maxine Durant
Edward E. Verdier
Earl A. Garard
Lucy F. Rogers
Harry Sutton, Jr.
Marian W. Vaillant
Dorothy Ward
Lois Myers
S. Dorothy Bell
Catharine F. Playle
Carol Taylor
Frances Cocke
Suzanne Bringier
Meredith Brown
Margery Howard
Dorothy Hughes
Harold C. Lewis
Walter K. Frame
Lily A. Lewis
Gladys E. Livermore
Elizabeth E. Sherman
Eleonora Ricasoli
Elizabeth Krebs
Helen A. Baker
Dorothy E. Handsaker
Marjorie Flack
Louis F. Adams
Nellie Melrose
Beatrice RifHard
Bess Winston
Charles P. Newton
Edward Shenton
Louise S. May
Margaret Conty
Evelyn Caldwell
Margaret Pratt
DRAWINGS, 2
Betty Quick
Margaret Duggar
Marx B. Loeb
Joan P. Wheeler
Marie L. Muriedas
Margaret Brate
Helen Cowell
Marguerite Murray
Helen Westfall
Catharine M. Clarke
Alan H. Westervelt
Cecil B. Baer
Eleanor Gottheil
PHOTOGRAPHS, i
Caroline F. Ware
Claire Walker
John A. Frank
Dorothy G. Schwarz
Eversley S. Ferris
Howard Sherman, Jr.
Horton H. Honsaker
Marian McDermott
Harriette Harrison
Humphrey Morris
Edith S. Sloan
Anna M. Grant
Virginia A. Leffler
Willard Vander Veer
Louise A. Wiggenhorn
Lucile Wolf
Eric H. Marks
Stella E. Grier
Harold P. Whaley
PHOTOGRAPHS, 2
Marion Adams
Roberta Jennings
Dorothy Hall
Elizabeth W. Pharo
Isabelle L. Greene
Robert Banks
Robert Phillips
Dorothy Peabody
N. S. W. Vanderhoef
Oliver Newman
Carolyn Averbeck
Olivia Doane
Helen Varelmann
Marjorie Dunn
PUZZLES, 1
Beatrice Holliday
Dorothy Brockway
Lenore Lemmler
Margaret Mortenson
Margaret P. Spaulding
Louise Cramer
E. I. Greenspun
George S. Cattnach
Philip Franklin
Margaret Warburton
James R. Angell
Betty Jackson
Norrine M. Peacock
Isidore Helfand
Rebecca S. Marshall
" KASHIONABLE." BY
ELIZABETH MARTIN-
DALE, AGE 12.
Mary Sullivan
Fannie Ruley
S. H. Ordway, Jr.
AlpheusB. Stickney,2d
Charles M. Alford
Ruth Browne
PUZZLES, 2
Dorothy Collins
Walter K. Schwinn
Charles Pearson
Oliver Strunk
Adele Knight
Helen Weaver
ROLL OF THE CARELESS
A list of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and
could not be properly entered for the competition :
NOT INDORSED. Fred Burgey, Helen Yeatman, Mildred
Murray, Stephanie Marcinkowski, Hester A. Emmet, Caroline Tyson,
Elizabeth Doremus, Rebecca Johnson, Walter J. Freeman, Jr., James
Sheean, Sarah Tatum, A. Schweizer, Mary Markey, Doris M.
Blamires, Helena Gray, Peyton Richards.
LATE. Wilfred Cresswell, Amelka Czosnowska, Victor Carrara,
Mabel P. Brewis, Maureen G. Husband, Ruth Farrington, Thompson
Blackburn, Catheleen Trask, Helena Gray, Edna Campbell, Hattie
G. Sampson, Fred Mitchell, Robert R. Mcllwaine, Serena E. Hand,
Alma R. Kehoe.
INSUFFICIENT ADDRESS. Robert McLees, Augustus L. Put-
nam, Wilhelmina Ruperti, Verona M. Hess, Eleanor Kohn, Margaret
Leathes,
WRITTEN IN PENCIL. Arthur Bertt, Amy Rothschild, Mary
Caldwell, Martha McGranger.
NO AGE. Ruth C. Wilson, John Dinwiddie, Chrystie Douglas,
Anita L. Grannis, Chester B. Morris, Victor Child.
WRITTEN ON BOTH SIDES OF PAPER. Florence Hoag-
land, Elda Brun, Lawton Filer, Ida A. Ruperti.
WRONG SUBJECT. Marjorie Grey, Helen D. Hill.
TOO LONG. Sibyl R. Mandel.
PRIZE COMPETITION No. 156
The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges
each month for the best origin al poems, stories, drawings,
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasion-
ally, cash prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge win-
ners who shall, from time to time, again win first place.
Competition No. 156 will close October 10 (for for-
eign members October 15). Prize announcements will be
made and the selected contributions published in St.
Nicholas For February.
Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, "The Call of the Wild," or, " My Valentine."
Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, " My Favorite Character in Fiction —
and Why."
Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "A Flying Start."
Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, " Strangers," or a Heading for February.
Puzzle. Any -sort, but must be accompanied by the an-
swer in full, and must be indorsed.
Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas.
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on
the first page of the " Riddle-box."
Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur-
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The
prizes in the "Wild Creature Photography" competition
shall be in four classes, as follows : Prize, Class A, a
gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold
badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge.
Prize, Class D, a silver badge. But prize-winners in this
competition (as in all the other competitions) will not
receive a second gold or silver badge. Photographs must
not be of "protected " game, as in zoological gardens or
game reservations. Contributors must state in a few words
where and under what circumstances the photograph was
taken.
Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re-
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed
and stamped envelop of the proper size to hold the manu-
script, drawing, or photograph.
RULES
Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not,
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who
has reached the age of eighteen years may compete.
Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as
" original " by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied,
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the
number of words should also be added. These notes must
not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution itself—
if manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, on the
margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the paper
only. A contributor may send but one contribution a
month — not one of each kind, but one only.
Address : The St. Nicholas League,
Union Square, New York.
BOOKS AND READING
BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE
WILD PLACES OF AMERICA
' I 've sometimes wondered who it was that first
thought of living in cities; especially when I
have just got back to one after long weeks in the
freedom of the woods and hills, the secret wild
places of summer and autumn, to find myself
again in the clangor and dust of town. Why, I
think, do people take so much trouble to build
walls that shut one in, when it is so much nicer
without them? In fact, if that inventor of city
life were before me, he might hear some uncom-
plimentary things in regard to his taste, and all it
has brought upon us.
Of course he could find plenty to retort, for
cities are crowded with a number of useful and
admirable objects; with vast numbers of nice
persons, of splendid shops, and theaters, and
schools, and restaurants, and what not of the
handsome, even the indispensable. Nevertheless,
I feel as though I could look forward quite
calmly to the finish of cities, at least as places in
which to live. Nice for visiting and for seeing
pictures and friends and hearing music in, but
not so good for staying in.
Just now most of you are coming home from
vacations in all sorts of spots by sea and lake and
river, mountain camp or country farm-house,
back to your city and town homes ; coming back
with quantities of lovely memories, plenty of tan,
and stronger muscles, cramful of all the energy
and joy of the out-of-doors. And I feel sure
that during the long October evenings, after the
sun has set red behind the housetops, you will
like to snuggle down with a book that will con-
tinue your summer memories, will take you out
on the long trail of adventure under the open
sky, seat you by camp-fires in forest nights, and
keep you a while longer in the company of nature.
There are many such books, and some are bet-
ter than others ; and among the very best and
most delightful is "Wild Life on the Rockies,"
by Mr. Enos A. Mills. It would be a great pity
for any out-door-loving boy or girl to miss this
book. And since I cannot believe that there ex-
ists any boy or girl who does n't love outdoors,
that amounts to saying that every one of you
should read it.
Mr. Mills has spent many years wandering
among the Rocky Mountains all alone. Winter
after winter, he went tramping the lonely and
splendid heights, traveling on snow-shoes, carry-
ing no arms, just a folding ax, some raisins, no
bedding, and a few candles which helped him to
make a fire in strong winds and storms, when his
hands were numb with cold. Usually he tried
to make some hunter's or miner's hut before
nightfall, but often he spent nights alone in the
snow, sleeping at intervals, feeding his eager fire
to keep from freezing, gathering wood by the
dim reflected light of the stars. Sometimes the
mountain-lion screamed, sometimes a chickadee
chirped to its companion. "Even during the
worst of nights," says Mr. Mills, "when I thought
of my lot at all, I considered it better than that
of those who were sick in houses or asleep in
the stuffy, deadly air of the slums."
One winter he walked "On the upper slopes of
the 'Snowy' range of the Rockies, from the Wy-
oming line on the north to New Mexico on the
south ... a long walk full of amusement and
adventure." If you want to find out how long,
look at your map; but remember it was "full of
ups and downs," sometimes dropping as low as
seven thousand feet above sea-level, occasionally
climbing to twice that height.
There are fourteen different tales in the book,
each one of which is a treat. There is the won-
derful account of the Thousand-Year-Old Pine,
that stood near the Mesa Verde of the Cliff-
Dwellers. There is the extraordinary adventure
of a Watcher on the Heights, when an electrical
storm played havoc with Mr. Mills— in old times,
people would have thought that gnomes and
witches were at their sport, and the mountain
would ever after have been called haunted. Then,
too, there is the delightful story of "Scotch," the
dog who was Mr. Mills's devoted comrade for
many years, and who merits having a whole book
written about him, if this short chapter is a fair
sample.
And listen to this about a camp-fire :
I wish every one could have a night by a camp-fire — by
Mother Nature's old hearthstone. When one sits in the
forest within the camp-fire's magic tent of light, amid the
silent sculptured trees, there go thrilling through one's
blood all the trials and triumphs of our race. The blazing
wood, the ragged and changing flame, the storms and
calms, the mingling smoke and blaze, the shadow-figures
that dance against the trees, the scenes and figures in the
fire, — with these, though all are new and strange, yet you
feel at home once more in the woods. A camp-fire in the
forest is the most enchanting place on life's highway by
which to have a lodging for the night.
1 148
BOOKS AND READING
1149
Boys, is there one of you whose heart does n't
thump a hearty "Yes" to that ?
If you want an idea of what a walk in winter
among the Rockies can be, read the bit that tells
of the round trip from Estes Park to Grand
Lake. There was n't anything from lions and
bears to avalanches and tumbles over precipices
left out of that jaunt, which Mr. Mills described
as the most adventurous and entertaining short
tramp he ever took.
Another book that will take you far into the
wilderness is "The Lure of the Labrador Wild,"
by Dillon Wallace. It is an account of a dis-
astrous but glorious expedition made by the au-
thor under the leadership of Leonidas Hubbard,
with a half-blood Cree Indian for guide, called
George Sheldon. A splendid man he proved to
be, without whose faithful help the writer would
have died in the wilderness, as was the fate of
poor Hubbard.
It is a different book from the other, for it is
full of hardships, desperate, lonely wanderings
in rags and starvation, with the icy Labrador
winter for bitter company. But how brave a tale
it is, and how one learns to love the three men
who fought so fine a losing battle !
In his preface, Mr. Wallace says :
The writing of the story was a work of love. I wished
not only to fulfil my last promise to my friend to write
the narrative of this expedition, but I wished also to create
a sort of memorial to him. I wanted the world to know
Hubbard as he was, his noble character, his devotion to
duty, and his faith, so strong that not even the severe hard-
ships he endured in the desolate North, ending with his
death, could make him for a moment forget the simple
truths that he learned from his mother on the farm in old
Michigan. I wanted the young men to know these things,
for they could not fail to be the better for having learned
them; and I wanted the mothers to know what men
mothers can make of their sons.
It is a true story, for the ill-fated Hubbard ex-
pedition is a part of history. And it is as dra-
matic and touching a story as ever man wrote
down. What is it that draws men to undertake
such perils, that sends them far from friends
and home into the grim wilderness? You can
guess, in reading this book, and come to under-
stand how Mr. Wallace has returned alone since,
and finished what Hubbard began.
But by no means is all the book sad. On the
contrary, most of it is full of fun and high spir-
its, full of adventurous youth and of the gen-
erous ardor of men bound together for noble
achievement. There are many wonderful and
beautiful things told of the great, desolate coun-
try, and of the people, white, and Indian, and
half-blood, who live in it. It is only at the end,
when the three friends are forced to separate,
that the tragedy comes.
Certainly these two books show you men it is
worth while to meet, if only in the pages of a
book. They both tell of a simple endurance of
hardship, a steadfast courage, cheer in difficul-
ties, heroic physical effort, and a manly joy in
danger; tell, too, many secrets of the wilder-
ness, give you lovely pictures of natural things,
reveal the habits of animals— and are stories that
thrill you from cover to cover.
There is a good deal to America, as you know,
and fortunately most of it is very far, indeed,
from any cities. Another magnificent stretch of
country is the Yosemite, and if you get J. S.
Chase's book, "Yosemite Trails," you will learn
a great deal about this wonderful valley in a
most delightful way, for Mr. Chase writes with
the charm and interest of the true enthusiast. He
tells about the lesser known portions, the wilder
forests and hidden lakes. But he does not neg-
lect the age-old trees, the famous falls, and
domed heights. What days and nights of jolly
travel and adventure and splendid sights ! What
camps, what moons and suns ! It will make
you all anxious to get there for yourselves, and
I hope that is just what you will do; I certainly
intend doing it, some fortunate summer.
Now for one more book, and that, too, about
the Rockies. This one is by an Englishman who
came here to see what we could do in the way of
wild ways and wild scenes, after he had been
pretty much over the rest of the world. The
book is called "Camps in the Rockies," and the
author's name is William A. Baillie-Grohman.
The book is as fresh as a mountain wind, full of
ranchers, cow-boys, and Indians, of good stories
and anecdotes, of a clean delight in the life, and a
thorough appreciation of the people who lived it.
The author went around a good bit, and saw
the West very completely. He tells about the
different aspects of the country, and the way
the Indians live, and how the cow-boys make
things hum.
These four books will do for the present. They
have a whole winter's enjoyment in them, for you
want to read them slowly, and get thoroughly
acquainted with the men who wrote them, as well
as with the stories themselves. Men who have
little use for cities, to be sure, but who can find
their way across mountain and desert by the
stars, follow the trail of bear and lion, camp
alone and comfortable where most of us would
die of fright and exposure, and who know many
things it is good and wise to know.
THE LETTER-BOX
Medina, Oaxaca, Mex.
Dear St. Nicholas : You were a birthday present to
me, and a mighty good one, too.
I am away down in the jungles of Mexico, where
there is not much to do ; so my mother thought you
would be a nice present for me.
We live in a colony with about seventy-five Ameri-
cans. There is a little school, of which my mother is
the teacher, a hotel, three Mexican stores, and a little
depot.
The vegetation is queer down here. We hardly ever
see a tree without parasitic plants all ,over the limbs,
and the roots hanging down look like vines. The jungle
is as thick as that of Africa. I have never seen the
jungles of Africa, but I think this is about as thick.
We have many fruits down here, and I like most of
them. We have oranges, lemons, limes, bananas,
papaya, mango, figs, cumquats, and pineapples. The
papaya is rich in pepsin. Our pineapples weigh as
much as sixteen pounds.
I am your faithful reader,
Helen Costigan (age 12).
Havelock North, N. Z.
Dear St. Nicholas: I am a New Zealand girl, and live
in a little country town called Hastings. I did not know
you were in the world till I came to school. I saw a
volume as far back as 1894. We also have a farm
where there are lots of wild horses, sheep, cattle, and
lots of rabbits. We often go out shooting them. I can
shoot and ride, and eve/ybody at school nicknamed me
"Indian." A river runs right through the farm, and it
is eating into the land. Father had to get the men to
back up the bank with willows. I guess you don't get
many letters from New Zealand. I hope I will some
day visit America.
I am twelve years old, and have got a brother eight
years and a sister three years.
Much love from your little colonial friend,
Sheila McLeod.
Grinnell, Ia.
Dear St. Nicholas : I don't know what I should do
without you. You have so many nice and interesting
stories. You were a Christmas present to me from my
papa. I have just been reading the letters in the
January number. It seems so nice that the little chil-
dren over in Italy and Holland can enjoy you as well
as the children in America. I was much interested in
the story, "The Lady of the Lane," and all of the other
nice stories which have appeared in the St. Nicholas.
Your new and faithful reader,
Helen E. Johnson (age 11).
Newport, Vt.
Dear St. Nicholas : I live in Vermont, and I love it
more than anything else I know of. Newport is on
Lake Memphremagog, which is about thirty miles long,
but only about six miles of it are in Vermont. The rest
is in Canada. It is a very beautiful lake, and it is well
named, for Memphremagog is the Indian name for
beautiful water.
Owl's Head, I think, is the prettiest mountain in
sight. It is about ten miles down the lake, and looks
like the head of an Indian with his face turned to the
sky. This is how it came to be called Owl's Head : a
tribe of St. Francis Indians used to come to this lake
for fish every summer, and they camped at the foot of
the mountain. The chief of this tribe was called the
"Old Owl." One day a part of the tribe fished down at
this end of the lake. Toward night, when they were
going home, one of the Indians said, as he looked up at
the mountain, "See the Old Owl. He has turned his
face to the sky." This meant that the chief was dead,
and when they reached the camping-place, they found
that he had been killed ; so, in memory of him, it has
always been called the Owl's Head. This is the legend
as I remember it.
I am very fond of St. Nicholas, and the stories I
think I like best are the continued ones. I look forward
very eagerly to reading you every month.
Your loving reader,
Doris E. Emery (age 14).
South Orange, N. J.
Dear St. Nicholas : I thought it might interest you to
hear about a door-panel we made for the closet door in
my room. We cut the pictures from the St. Nicholas
covers, and mounted them on dark blue cambric, ar-
ranging them according to the months and the sports
appropriate to them. It makes a very attractive panel,
and I always keep my closet door shut now, which I
used to forget sometimes.
My sisters and I have taken you for eight years.
Yours sincerely,
Isabel W. Beugler (age 12).
Bolton, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas : In a recent issue of your mag-
azine, I read an article on the giant tortoise of the
Bronx Zoo. I should like to tell you of my experience
with that same tortoise.
A few years ago, Mr. Loring, my brothers' tutor, who
was at one time a Head of Department af the Bronx,
took me "behind the scenes" at the reptile house. He.
there introduced me to the tortoise's keeper, who let me
go right into the cage where the tortoises are kept in
winter, when they are not on view. Then Mr. Loring
asked the keeper if I might ride on the tortoise's back,
and the keeper said he thought the "old man" would n't
mind. So I was lifted onto the high, sloping back of.
the "old man," who, very slowly and with much dignity,
walked around the cage to the bars, where he proceeded
to rub me off. I guess he did n't like to have anything
tickle his back. Of course I jumped off, upon which he
slowly rejoined his comrade. That was my experience
with the Bronx tortoise.
Your loving reader,
Francesca U. Moffat.
Punganur, India.
Dear St. Nicholas : I like your magazine very much.
I am the daughter of a missionary in India, and a pupil
in Highclerc School for missionaries' children. This
school is on the Pulney hills.
We live in a place where we are the first and only
white people. We are sixteen miles from any other
white people, and twenty-four miles from a railway
station. I have n't any companions except my younger
brother and sister when I am here on the plains. But
still I would rather live here than any other place in
India.
I am going back to school soon. I have read nearly
all your serial stories, and I like them very much.
Your loving reader,
Helen Theodora Scudder (age 10).
1 1 50
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE SEPTEMBER NUMBER
Novel Double Diagonal. From i to 2, Italy; 3 to 4, Rome
Cross-words: 1. Irony. 2. Atoms. 3. Flame. 4. Stale. 5. Crazy.
Shaksperean Diagonal. Valentine. 1. Vincentio. ^ 2. Balthasar.
3. Voltimand. 4. Demetrius. 5. Simonides. 6. Sebastian. 7. Kath-
arine. 8. Desdemona. 9. Cymbeline.
Anagram. Walter Raleigh.
Historical Diagonal. Saratoga.
(Philip). 2. Garfield. 3. Virginia. 4.
Braddock. 7. Santiago. 8. Victoria.
Illustrated Numerical Enigma.
and they are ours."
Letter Puzzle. Caesar.
Novel Acrostic. Primals, Handel
words: 1. Homage.
6. Little.
2. Arouse. 3. Nozzle. 4. Draper. 5. Errors.
I.
Marsh.
Arica.
3. Rigor.
4. Edits.
5. Trend.
5. Taxed. V. 1.
Cross-words: 1. Schuyler
Delaware. 5. Yorktown. 6.
"We have met the enemy,
third row, Mozart. Cross-
CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES,
4. Scold. 5. Hardy, II. 1. Egret. 2. Grade. 3. Ravin
5. Tense. III. 1. Yeast. 2. Edgar. 3. Agate. 4. Satan.
IV. 1. Habit. 2. Aroma. 3. Borax. 4. Image
Drama. 2. Revel. 3. Avert. 4. Merge. 5. Alter.
Connected Stars. Centrals, Cleopatra. Cross-words: 1. C. 2.
No. 3. England. 4. Priory. 5. Green 6. Palace. 7. Deposit. 8.
Go. 9. P. 10 So. 11. Parable. 12. Vienna. 13. Lethe. 14. De-
face. 15. Refresh. 16. Be. 17. A.
Double Acrostic Primals, Buffalo; finals, New York. Cross-
words: 1. Bean. 2. Urge. 3. Flaw. 4. Flay. 5. Also. 6. Lair.
7. Omsk.
To our Puzzlers: Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 10th of each month, and should be
addressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth Street, New York City.
Answers to all the Puzzles in the July Number were received before July 10 from Judith Ames Marsland — Mary A. O'Connor —
Thankful Bickmore.
Answers to Puzzi.es in the July Number were received before July 10 from Dorothy B Goldsmith, 8 — Gladys S. Conrad, 8 — Henry
Seligsohn, 8 — Richard Wagner, Jr., 8 — Philip Franklin, 8 — Harmon B., James O., and Glen T. Vedder, 8 — R. Kenneth Everson, 8 — Theodore
H. and Wyllys P. Ames, 8 — Clara Parks, 8 — Margery E. Merrick, 8— Dixie Slope, 8— Dorothy Berrall, 6— Gertrude M. Van Home, 6 — Dorothy
Dorsett, 6 — Marshall Best, 4 — Dorothy Covil, 3 — Ellen Ewing, 3 — Gerald H. Loomis, 2 — Dorothea A. Codman, 2 — Douglass Robinson, 2 —
Helen Miller, 2 — Eleanor Johnson, 2.
Answers to One Puzzle were received from E. B H.— A. B., Jr.— D. A. H— C. H.— D. W.— M. L. C— M. C. H— M. A. M— J. B. R.
—A. G. B.— C. O.— M. McL.-^-P. P.— H. W.— D. D.— E. R.— D. P.— G. H. P.— L. A.— C. K.— H. H. P.— F. L.— J. T. B.-A. B.— D. K —
M. S. H— W. R. B.— J. Q— R. E."
GEOGRAPHICAL PRIMAL ACROSTIC
My primals spell the name of a President of the United
States.
Cross-words (of equal length) : 1. One of the New
England States. 2. A South Carolina town near Au-
gusta. 3. A river in Germany. 4. A country of northern
Africa. 5. A river in India. 6. A region in Africa. 7.
A river in Russia. 8. Mountains in South America.
9. A colony of southern Africa. 10. A village of Al-
berta. 11. A town in central New York. 12. A river in
France. 13. A county of England. 14. A river of South
America.
Constance Griffith (age 14), League Member.
WORD-SQUARES
I. 1. Salt-water. 2. A product of turpentine. 3. A
small island. 4. A brother's daughter. 5. To penetrate.
II. 1. A kind of tree. 2. Once more. 3. To color.
4. A vessel regularly plying between certain ports.
5. Ingress.
marjorie k. gibbons (age 15), Honor Member.
TRIPLE BEHEADINGS AND CURTAILINGS
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
Example : Triply behead and curtail stubborn, and
leave a metal. Answer, obs-tin-ate.
In the same way behead and curtail: 1. Pertaining to
the south pole, and leave part of a circle. 2. State of
being uncivilized, and leave an obstruction. 3. To
make acquainted, and leave a slender stick. 4. A bene-
fit, and leave an insect. 5. A planner of buildings, and
leave to strike. 6. Unprejudiced, and leave skill. 7.
Pertaining to a branch of mathematics, and leave en-
countered. 8. Finally doing away with, and leave
illuminated. 9. A discharge of firearms, and leave sick.
10. Mesmerism, and leave a negative. 11. Trickery, and
leave a small receptacle. 12. Sucking up, and leave a
celestial sphere. 13. An associate, and leave a grassy
plain. 14. To attract, and leave a snare.
The primals of the remaining words will spell the
name of a President of the United States.
elsa a. synnestvedt (age 15).
NUMERICAL ENIGMA
I am composed of fifty-three letters and form a quota-
tion from "King Lear."
My 5-13-37-34—49 is destruction. My 42-14-40-46-
43-21-39 is part of an insect. My 8-50—36-10-15-26—41
was an Egyptian ruler. My 44-29-48-32 is a token of
affection. My 16-35—6-53—9 is shelter from the sun.
My 1 1-25-2— 27-12 is a part of the body. My 3-28-31-
47—22-52-20-18 is one who makes a kind of musical
sound with his lips. My 4-1-5 1-7-30 is an article of
apparel. My 19-17—23-33 is a plague. My 45-38-24 is
to permit.
alice nicoll (age 11), League Member.
ZIGZAG
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed, and written one below
another, the zigzag, beginning with the upper, left-hand
letter, will spell the name of an English poet.
• Cross-words: i. To intertwine confusedly. 2. A car-
penter's tool. 3. A kind of three-leaved plant. 4. First.
5. To become visible. 6. Celebrated. 7. A pillar. 8. To
select. 9. A small storage room. 10. A place of con-
finement. 11. To issue.
Jessica b. noble (age 1 2), League Member.
1152
THE RIDDLE-BOX
ILLUSTRATED NOVEL ACROSTIC
Each of the eight pictured objects may be described by
a single word, in each case containing the same number
of letters. When written one below another, the primals
will spell the name of a famous English painter, and
another row of letters will spell the name of a younger
artist whom he befriended. Both are buried in the same
edifice. F. m.
PERSIAN PI
Each group of letters forms a word, the entire sentence
being a Persian proverb.
Na nurteid indrfe si kiel na deknacurc tun.
charlotte hodges (age io), League Member.
DOUBLE DIAGONAL
All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below
another, the diagonal beginning with the left-hand
upper letter, and the diagonal beginning with the right-
hand lower letter, will spell the names of two American
poets.
Cross-words : r. A measure. 2. An American de-
scended from Spanish or French ancestors. 3. Joyous-
ness. 4. To requite. 5. A drug obtained from sea-
weed. 6. A European song-bird.
helen moulton (age 1 5), Honor Member.
CONNECTED SQUARES AND DIAMONDS
(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
OOOOO
O ****000**** O
000*****0*****000
OOOOO***
OOO****
****00000
0*****000
o * * * *
I. Left-hand Diamond: i. In masterly. 2. A boy. 3.
Violent insanity. 4. Racket. 5. In masterly.
II. Left-hand Square: i. Void of sense. 2. The
post of a stairway. 3. To adjudge. 4. Courage. 5.
Senior.
III. Upper Diamond: i. In masterly. 2. Sorrow. 3.
Proceeding from the sun. 4. To devour. 5. In mas-
terly.
IV. Lower Diamond: i. In masterly. 2. To decay.
3. The whole. 4. Exaction. 5. In masterly.
V. Right-hand Square: i. A marked feature. 2.
To elevate. 3. In a church. 4. A small island. 5.
Prongs.
VI. Right-hand Diamond: i. In masterly. 2.
Finish. 3. A messenger. 4. A small point. 5. In mas-
terly. GEORGE H. MCDONALD (age 15).
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA
My first is in peach, but not in pear ;
My second in wolf, but not in bear ;
My third is in run, but not in walk ;
My fourth is in speak, but not in talk ;
My fifth is in cutlass, but not in sword ;
My sixth is in string, but not in cord ;
My seventh is in death, but not in life ;
My eighth is in flute, but not in fife ;
My ninth is in adjective, not in noun;
My tenth is in city, but not in town ;
My eleventh is in loose, but not in tight ;
My twelfth is in wrong, but not in right ;
My whole took part in a famous fight.
edward capps, jr. (age io), League Member.
SYNCOPATED CENTRAL ACROSTIC
Syncopate, that is, drop the middle letter from, the
following words of equal length. The remaining letters
of each word will form a new word, and the syncopated
letters, in the order given, will form the name of a
famous institution of learning.
Example : syncopate pertaining to a duke, and leave
twofold. Answer : ducal, dual.
In the same way syncopate : i. A noisy feast, and leave
to move unsteadily in walking. 2. A surveyor's meas-
ure, and leave part of the face. 3. A soft, adhesive sub-
stance, and leave the head. 4. Speaks imperfectly, and
leave parts of the face. 5. One of a series of steps, and
leave a commotion. 6. Low comedy, and leave coun-
tenance. 7. Sins, and leave competes. 8. To bend
down, and leave to tarry. 9. A character used in'
punctuation, and leave the popular name of a small ani-
mal. 10. Pertaining to the sun, and leave to fly aloft.
11. A food, and leave a nail. 12. Kingly, and leave
actual. 13. A weapon, and leave to box.
edith pierpont stickney (age 13), Honor Member.
THE DE V1NNE PRESS, NEW YORK.
57'. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
I
Big Sisters and Little Brother
The whole family prefer
aMU.a*
"High as the
Alps in Quality'
because it tastes so good.
It is made of the best of cocoa
beans, with pure milk and a little
sugar.
Peter's is as wholesome as it is
delicious.
f^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^l
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Why are you brin^in^ that?"
'Cause you promised me
a whole box of
WRIGLEYS
SPEARMINT
M
EveryJ
stick of this ^
mint juice dainty
improves teeth — aids di-
'gestion. But if you buy it
by the box, it benefits more,
costs less, and stays fresh un-
til used.
BUY IT BY THE BOX
of any dealer. It costs less.
Look for the spear.
The flavor lasts.
10
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
URITY, the key note of Crystal
Domino Sugar, is proclaimed in its
glistening whiteness and the clear
sparkle of every crystal.
Only the best of the sugar crop is
used and the refining and crystaliz-
ing are done under modern condi-
tions of scrupulous cleanliness that
insure its purity and wholesomeness.
The dainty, easy-breaking shape
is the last touch of perfection.
One of the Quality Products of
The American Sugar
Refining Co.
Read the story of its making in our
splendidly illustrated booklet, sent
on request. Address Department
L. 117 Wall Street, New York,
Full and half - size pieces
II
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
" Thank You, Mother—
"You've made my head so much better. That
Mentholated Vaseline is wonderful, isn't it?"
" Yes, dear. There is nothing that soothes and relieves
a headache so quickly'"
Mentholated
Vaseline
Mentholated Vaseline is a wonderful relief for
nervous and tired headaches. It is simply a blend-
ing of Menthol and "Vaseline." It is absolutely
pure and harmless, and has no bad "after-effects."
Mentholated Vaseline also relieves cramps, neuralgia, etc.
Put up in handy tin tubes. Druggists everywhere.
Do you know our other "Vaseline" specialties — Capsicum Vaseline, for colds; Vaseline
Camphor Ice, for chapped hands and lips ; Carbolated Vaseline, for cuts and scratches, and
the rest ? They will help you cut down the family doctor's bills for a lot of minor hurts and
ailments.
Accept no substitute for "Vaseline." An interesting booklet telling all
about it costs you nothing but a postal showing your address. Write to-day.
Chesebrough Manufacturing Company
WA State Street, New York City (Consolidated) Branch Offices: London, Montreal
RUBBER BUTTON
Hose Supporter
Will stand
hard wear
IN STORES EVERYWHERE.
Child's sample pair,postpaid,
16 cents (give age).
It gives satisfaction — doesn't tear the
stockings — doesn't hamper the child
— and wears longest.
GEORGE FROST Co., Makers, Boston
Also makers of the famous Boston Garter for men
12
ESKAYS POOD
is as good for "grown-
ups" as it is for infants.
When for any reason
ordinary food cannot be
taken, a nice, hot, freshly-
cooked bowl of Eskay's
will be found ideal —
because:
— It is digested almost with-
out effort.
— It contains everything
necessary to nourish and
strengthen the body.
— It is particularly appetizing.
For Free Trial Sample, write
SMITH, KLINE & FRENCH CO., 462 Arch St., Philadelphia
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
ft
m
IK
1 11 y M^**fi
>32. ,x
r^
Try
(iij
This
Time-Tested Hosiery
"Holeproof" are the result of 32 years of hose-making
experience — the original guaranteed hose. Don't judge
"Holeproof" by vastly inferior makes — hose created and
made just to compete in the stores with "Holeproof." No
other hosiery ever attempted to compete with "Holeproof"
on the foot, for that's where the difference appears. You
must wear genuine "Holeproof" to know this — so don't
accept imitation makes — a name like "Holeproof's" and the
same guarantee.
Six pairs guaranteed six months. New
pairs will be given for any that wear out
in that time.
Our Costly Yarns
"Holeproof" are not bulky or coarse.
No softer or more silky hose can be made.
They have a delicate lustre that is not
found in ordinary hose. Our yarn costs
an average of 70 cents per pound. We
could use 30 cent yarn, but the hose would n't be soft and attractive like
"Holeproof." We sterilize each pair twice in the making, so the colors are
fast — the hose sanitary.
lloleproomosieru
^OR MEN WOMEN* AND CHILDREN^
Holeproof" are made in 12 colors, 10 weights and 5 grades, at prices ranging
from $1.50 to $3.00 per box of six pairs, according to weight and finish. From
this wide assortment you can get sox fit for the finest feet. Six pairs of children's
stockings, guaranteed six months, $2.00.
"Holeproof" Are Sold in Your Town
The genuine "Holeproof" are sold in your town. We'll tell you the
dealers' names on request or ship direct where we have no dealer,
charges prepaid on receipt of remittance. Our free book, "How to
Make Your Feet Happy," is well worth reading. Send for
it today.
Holeproof Hosiery Company
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Holeproof Hosiery Co. of Canada, Ltd.,
London, Canada
13
St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. ijo.
Time to hand in answers is up October 10. Prize-winners announced in December number.
It is not to be forgotten that the
educational part of our work in
this department has to do with
the appreciation and the making
of good advertising. We do
have puzzles in these pages, for
these are brighteners of our wits,
and help us to get acquainted
with the skilful advertisers and
their work ; but it is time that we
once more made some practical
use of the knowledge we have
gained, and so the wise Judges
ask us to give you this time
a competition that will require
you to show whether you have
learned something of the art of
making advertisements.
Here, then, is your task: Make
a good advertisement of a school.
Let it be either one you know
about personally, or one that you
have learned of by the published
advertising. Use pictures cut
from the school's announcements,
or secured in any way you like;
or write an advertisement with-
out a picture if you prefer. Make
it of a size to fill a half-page in
an ordinary magazine, and make
it so that you will feel it is the
best advertisement that school
could have.
We hope to show that our girls
and boys know just what should
be said to make a school attract-
ive to parents and young people.
Of course, we shall be proud if
(See also
you can write an advertisement
that the school you select will
wish to publish.
Here are the list of prizes, and
the rules governing the competi-
tion.
The prizes will be awarded to
those who submit what the
Judges consider the most con-
vincing and attractive adver-
tisements, whether they are
illustrated or not, and without
considering their length, as a
short advertisement is often bet-
ter than a longer one.
One First Prize, $5.00 to the sender of the
cleverest advertisement written by the competi-
tor.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each to the next
two in merit.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each to the next
three.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each to the next
ten.
Here are the rules and regulations :
1. This competition is open freely to all who
may desire to compete without charge or consider-
ation of any kind. Prospective contestants need
not be subscribers for St. Nicholas in order to com-
pete for the prizes offered.
2. In the upper left-hand corner of your
paper give name, age, address, and the num-
ber of this competition (130).
3. Submit answers by October 10, 191 2.
Use ink. Do not inclose stamps.
4. Do not inclose requests for League
badges or circulars. Write separately for these
if you wish them, addressing St. Nicholas
League.
5. Be sure to comply with these conditions
if you wish to win prizes.
6. Address answers : Advertising Competi-
tion No. 130. St. Nicholas League, Union
Square, New York.
page 16.)
14
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Ready
Sept. 1st
Harper's
Young People's Library
Indoors and Out
BUILDING A BRUSH CAMP
THE INDOOR BOOK
THE ELECTRICITY BOOK
THE MACHINERY BOOK
THE OUTDOOR BOOK
CAMPING AND SCOUTING
THE BOATING BOOK
These six volumes show a boy how his leisure time may be spent with pleasure as
well as profit to himself. They are designed to give the boy self-reliance by
encouraging him to think and act for himself — to develop his ingenuity and
his practical ability to do things along lines which will enable him to have fun
in the doing — to arouse his interest in the wonders of the world around him
and to equip him to deal efficiently with his own specific problems later on —
to equip him for the strenuous struggle of twentieth-century living.
The books contain about 700 illustrations and
working diagrams, and are handsomely bound in
two styles:
1. Imported art crash buckram with
full gold back and side cover.
2. Leather binding of half-morocco
with gold tops, head-bands, cloth
sides, and decorative end papers.
HARPER & BROTHERS, New York
HABPER & BROTHERS, New York.
Please send me, free of charge, full particulars about
the special offer you are making of Harper's Young People's
Library — Indoors and Out. S.N. 10
Name .
Address .
i5
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
Report on Advertising Competition No. 128
As the Judges expected, once the
solvers caught the clue to the
Wireless Despatches, the answers
were found without the slightest
trouble; and that is what makes
trouble when it comes to the
awarding of the prizes. Really
the puzzles ought to be made a
little harder, but if they are made
too difficult the fun of solving them
is changed to dull labor. As only
a small part of the answers sent
in were marred by real errors, it
was necessary in giving the prizes
to look to the general minute cor-
rectness of the papers submitted,
and especially to consider the
interest and value of the letters
telling what should be advertised
in St. Nicholas and why. These
differed greatly in merit, and so
it was possible to give the prizes
to the most deserving. In the
Roll of Honor, the age of the
competitors has been considered
and the very young have been
given special mention where the
answers were creditable, since the
same care is not to be expected
from the little ones as from their
elders. There were hundreds of
answers sent in, and the puzzle
seemed to be one that all the
competitors enjoyed.
The care exercised in the prep-
aration of the papers was notice-
able, and the Judges feel that this
training of young people in care-
(See also
ful work is perhaps the most
valuable feature of these competi-
tions; they know that there are
few qualities more valuable in
after-life than the capacity for
taking pains in the preparation
of work.
Here follow the list of Prize-
winners and the Roll of Honor:
Prize-winners, Competition No. 128
One First Prize, $5.00:
Catherine C. Lowe, age 17, New York.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each:
Beatrice S. Parker, age 13, Massachusetts.
Marcella Whetsler, age 13, Illinois.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each:
Ethel Cecilia Branner, age 1 5, New York.
Helen J. Williams, age 17, Illinois.
Virginia Holland, age 14, Florida.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each :
Frances Cherry, age 12, Kentucky.
Mary Hayne, age 10, North Carolina.
Marshall Best, age 10, Illinois.
Carolyn B. Bowlby, age 13, Ontario, Canada.
Nellie Grace Cherry, age 23, Kentucky.
Elizabeth M. Doane, age 15, Illinois.
Helen M. Wilcox, age 15, Connecticut.
Elsa Anna Synnestvedt,age 1 5, Pennsylvania.
Joe M. Weber (Miss), age 21, Georgia.
Esther Cassels, age 18, Toronto, Canada.
Roll of Honor
(Age considered)
Howard L. Roberts, 9 Frances M. Sweet, 9
Stephen M. Wells, 10 Edwin Andrew, 10
Mary L. Rossetter, 10 Emily Hayne, 8
Monimia McRae, 10 Walter Cameron, 10
Allen Miller, 9 Byron Webb, 10
Alice Heyl, 9 Kenneth Hershey, 9
Elinor Hopkins, 10 Barentsen Bishop, 10
George T. Rowland, Jr., 8
(Age not considered)
Sarah Whitman, Edwina M. Stevens, Frances
Knoche Marlatt, Bronson Barber, Margaret
Warburton, Anna E. Greenleaf, Helen G. Smith,
Anna S. Gifford, Beryl Stuart, Edwin S. Fox,
Lois Wuerpel, Wilhelmina T. Hoagland, Marion
F. Hayden, Sarah Lewis Pattee, Agnes Multner.
page 14.)
16
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
You Can Make All Sorts of Pretty
Things with Plasticine
Even the littlest girl loves to "make things" and
there is no more delightful nor profitable play than
modeling with
HARBUTT 'S
It puts a child on the right road to think and act for itself,,
develops the artistic sense and accuracy of observation and en-
courages the use of both hands. It holds endless enjoyment and
inspiration for all ages. Harbutt's Plasticine is clean and abso-
lutely antiseptic. It is not mussy like clay, as it requires no
water, but is always ready for instant use. You can use
it over and over again.
In various sized outfits with complete instructions for model-
ing, designing, housebuilding.
Sold by Toy, Stationery and Art Dealers everywhere. If your dealer
cannot supply you, write for free booklet and list of dealers near you.
THE EMBOSSING COMPANY. "JL- Tj "Y'TX<*pK
58 Liberty St., Albany, N. Y. *°y>S 1 i\3J le^cv
Bound Volumes of
ST.
NICHOLAS
Two large, octavo, red and gold
volumes — the year complete, of
the prince of all magazines for
young folks
One Thousand Pages
One Thousand Pictures
The set, $4.00
Your own numbers bound to order,
two volumes, $1.50, carriage extra.
Single numbers, to complete imper-
fect files, 25 cents each.
MAILLARD'S
^BREAKFAST
I COCOA
A Cocoa
of
Peculiar
Excellence
Highly concentrated
and passing rich in
food values. The ideal
all-season food beverage.
Wonderfully sustaining and
nourishing.
At All Leading Grocers
Fifth Avenue at 35th Street
CHOCOLATES, BONBONS, FRENCH BONBONNIERES
Afternoon tea, three to six, in the
Luncheon Restaurant
u
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
«s
oooooooooooooo
o
c
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
From Bridge
to Ferris
With a set of
wonderful,
fascinating
O O O 10
<
you can span a
make-believe
river, then later
use the same steel
girders and
beams to build
a Ferris Wheel.
The wheel will
turn and the
bridge can be
raised for
steamers.
These are but two
of the working mo-
dels illustrated and
described in our
catalog.
IVrile for illustrated catalog
and list of dealers.
*m — ~
o o o
o o o o c V Q o o o
You can build many others with
Meccano, made mostly of brass
andpolishedsteel. Asksomegood
toy or sporting goods store to
show you Meccano. Be sure to
get Meccano. Look for the name
on boxes and literature.
The Embossing Co.
23 Church St. Albany, N. Y.
Manufacturers of
"Toys that Teach"
ooooooooooooo
HALLOWE'EN
A different kind of store. None just like itin America. We make a specialty
of Favors and Souvenirs for Dinners, Parties, and Cotillions. A new 200-page
Catalog free for the asking. In this advertisement are mentioned a few
Favors for Hallowe'en. We have novelties tor every conceivable occasion.
Pumpkin Jack-o'-Lanterns, Weird and Novel, 5c, 10c, 25c each.
Celluloid Skeleton or Devil on Pin, Shaking Arms, 5c each.
Crepe Paper Witch Broom Case for Ices or Candies, 25c each.
Skull, Black Cat, or Devil Lanterns, 5c. each.
Ghost Figures, 5c. 10c., 25c. each. Black Witch Cats, 5c, 10c, 25c. each
Hallowe'en Novelty Noise Makers, 5c., 10c, each.
Assorted Comic Figures. 5c. 10c, 25c. each.
Assorted Miniature Metal Favors for Cakes, 15c dozen.
Miniature China Babies, 10c. dozen. Hallowe'en Melting Sets, 25c
Sparklers, 5c. box. Magic. Explosive Fruits, 15c each.
Skeletons, Spiders, Wishbones, Grotesque Mirrors, Brooms, Wedding rings,
Scissors, Love Thermometers, Surprise Nuts, Bats. 5c each.
Surprise Walnuts, containing Favors, 30c per box of 1 dozen.
Crepe Paper Pumpkins and Witch Hats, containing Favors, 5c.
Pumpkin Shape Ice Cups, 10c. each.
Smaller size tor Salted Nuts, 00c. dozen.
Assorted Comic Weird Pin on Favors, 5c each.
Hallowe'en Paper Napkins, 35c. package.
Hallowe'en Snapping Mottos, 50c box.
Pumpkin Jack Homer Pie, containing 12 Favors, $3.50.
Hallowe'en Tally Cards, 25c. dozen. Dinner Cards, 30c dozen.
Send for our $2.00 assortment of Hallowe'en Favors
14 'e positively do not pay mail charges
B. Shackman & Co., Dept. 14, 812 Broadway, New York
JUST ONE CENT
postal will bring you a generous free bottle of 3-in-One Oil.
Try it. See for yourself what a wonderful bicycle oil, gun
oil, skate oil, fishing reel oil 3-in-One is.
3-in-One is equally good for three Boys' uses: It oils
all bearings perfectly, making them fairly fly. It cleans
and polishes all wood and metal surfaces, and it absolutely
prevents rust.
We want you and every other boy to believe in 3-in-
One. And after you give it this free test you certainly
will believe in it.
SAY-BOY, YOU-
oil your bicycle frequently with 3-in-One. Will
make it run much easier and prevent wear.
Also oil every part of your gun, inside and
out, with 3-in-One, before and after shooting.
3-in-One is good for almost everything — skates,
fishing reel, rod, catcher's gloves, mask and
every tool. Won't gum and clog; contains no
grease ; no acid.
Write today for free generous
"sample. Sold everywhere ; 10c,
25c. and 50c. bottles. Library Slips with every
package.
FREE
3-IN-ONE OIL CO.
42 Q. G. Broadway
New York
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
MENNEN'S
"FOR MINE"
Mennen's ?r«em Powder
keeps my skin in healthy condition.
Sample Box for 4c. stamp.
GERHARD MENNEN CO.
Newark, N. J.
Murray
LanmAnS
FloricLaWater
This fragrant and refreshing
toilet perfume, in use for a
century, makes the daily bath
a luxury and a supreme de-
light.
Leading Druggists sell it.
Accept no substitute !
Sample seal on receipt of six
cents in stamps.
Lanman & Kemp
135 Water Street
New York
JUS
our latest pattern, is one
irCta)hiclx \\\e> smallest
cfotaitf bas beer), care-
mUvs studied. ''"CrFW
TG.SXUX. IS a OGSJjJnu oP
tfuirb such. an. oven dis-
tribution or the racial
that the sirenidux ana
IvQigthir come just in. the
ri^htr places c^
<rTyfiis nei&> cyesTjrfn. in
1847 ROGERS BROS.
"Silver Plate
that Wears"
is finished bright. It. costs
no more man any or our
other patterns and like,
them_ is sola ~toitn an
zinquaufjea ^uaranV,
lee that is backed
fey the acluat iesfr
or 6Si^ears.
Sold by leading dealers
Send forlllustra'ted catalog
*x-5r
INTERNATIONAL SILVER CO.
Successor to Meriden Britannia Co.
Meriden, Conn.
Vhe Worlds largest
N<i/iers of Sterling
Silver and Plato.
19
1
s
ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE
THE HUEMUL
IN 1904, Chile issued a series of provisionals made
by surcharging the telegraph stamps then in use.
These had not been long in use before keen-eyed
stamp-collectors noticed that there were two types
of design. The difference between the two types was
best exemplified by the drawing of the animal which
supports the left side of the escutcheon. In Type I,
the beast presents a rather incomplete appearance.
It has no mane and only
a short tail, while in
Type II, he glories not
only in a mane, but a
beautiful, wavy tail. Both
designs could hardly be
correct, and the ques-
tion at once arose (and
still often crops up in
the queries which reach
us) : What animal is this
on the arms of Chile,
and what is its real ap-
pearance ? The animal
is indigenous to Chile, and is called the huemul.
Type I was engraved by the American Bank Note
Co., while the second type is the work of an English
artist. The scientific name of the huemul is "Cervus
Chiliensis." As "cervus" is the generic name of
deer, .and as deer do not have manes and flowing
tails, it seems probable that the American artist has
depicted the animal more faithfully than his English
cousin. Possibly the latter thought the beast was his
own familiar unicorn. The second is the rarer type.
While the large-sized telegraph stamp of 1891
exists only in one type, the second, we use it for
our illustration because it gives a clearer picture of
the mane and tail of the huemul than would the
smaller-sized stamp which was used for the pro-
visional issue of 1904.
QT
ANSWERS TO QUERIES
HE new Venetian Memorial stamps are for
King George. In the original the beard and mus-
tache are heavily shaded and run into each other.
It is difficult to see where one begins and the other
ends, and the hair of the head shows no part. In
the reengraved stamp, the beard appears neatly
trimmed, the outline of the mustache is clearly de-
fined, and the parting of the hair is indicated by a
white line. The background of the figure of value
in the upper corners is much lighter, and the stamp
has generally a more finished appearance. Ifl The
word "Condominium," surcharged upon Fiji stamps
for use in the New Hebrides, means co-dominion, or
joint dominion, and refers to the fact that the
affairs of the islands are jointly administered by
France and Great Britain. You may distinguish the
two types of surcharge by the fact that in the first
the initial C is a capital, while in the second all are
capital letters. On the later issues the co-dominion
is indicated by combinations of French currency on
paper bearing the English colonial water-mark, and
by the appearance of the coats of arms of the two
nations upon the same stamp. "G. R." is Georgius
Rex. "R. F." is Republique Francais. <]| One
should be careful about using water to soak paper
from the back of a stamp. While most of the stamps
issued to-day will stand such treatment, certain
colors (especially the reds) are apt to lose some of
their brilliancy. The early issues of Russia require
especial care, as the color disappears entirely upon
immersion in water. The half-penny green of Great
Britain, 1900— 1902, is apt to turn blue after a bath.
If the stamp is a valuable one, place it face down-
ward on a piece of white blotting-paper, and moisten
slightly the paper adhering to the back. With care
this can then be removed without wetting the stamp
enough to injure the color. <| The one-centavo
Argentine of 1888 (Scott's No. 69) and one-centavo
of 1 89 1 (Scott's No. 89) are very similar. The cuts
in the catalogue do not clearly indicate the differ-
ences. While there are many minor differences in
the shading, the most marked distinction can be
found from studying the position of the words
"Correos y telegrafos" above the head. In the sec-
ond type this inscription begins and ends very close
to the scroll which separates the upper and lower
inscriptions. In the original type there is a space at
either end sufficiently wide to insert another "c" at
the beginning and an "s" at the end. This would
not be possible in the second type.
use only within the Kingdom of Italy and its
colonies. Under the rules of the Postal Congress
they cannot be used elsewhere. The words to the
right of the tower allude to the fact that the new
Campanile is on exactly the same spot, and is of the
same appearance, as the old. A good translation of
the words would be, "As it was ; where it was."
We do not know the significance of the figure "1"
\ which appears in a rectangular frame on the left QOME months ago, while commenting upon the
X side of the tower of the fifteen-centesimi stamp. O portraits of the new Chilian series, we stated that
A CORRECTION
There is a similar figure on the left side of the cen-
tral dome of the five-centesimi. These tiny figures
^ are so inconspicuous as to be generally overlooked.
We have not received questions about them before,
although their presence has been noted in stamp
journals. <]| There are two types of the new one-
penny King George issue of England. They can
readily be distinguished by any one. In the original
issue the lion at the bottom of the stamp had little
or no shading along his sides. The few lines which
were there seemed to be the ribs of a hungry beast.
The second type has the side of the lion heavily
shaded. There are also two types of the half-penny
O'Higgins, whose portrait is on the five-centavo
stamp, was originally from the United States.
Through the courtesy of one of the readers of St.
Nicholas, we are able to correct this statement.
We can now say that this illustrious patriot and
general, Don Bernardo O'Higgins, was a native of
Chile; that he was born at Chilian, August 20, 1776.
His father, Don Ambrosio O'Higgins, an Irishman,
was a lieutenant-colonel in the service of Spain,
subsequently becoming Captain-General of Chile, and
later Viceroy of Peru. Don Bernardo's mother,
Dona Isabel Riquelme, belonged to one of the prin-
cipal families of Chile.
(ga22£22Zgggg2222a22aa^2g2222gZgfcS^gg2^
ST. NICHOLAS 'ADVERTISEMENTS
ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY
THE CONTINENTAL lishedforbeginners^The"
best on the market. 8x5 inches, holds 560 stamps, 160 illustrations.
Special bargain price 10c. 108 all different stamps from Paraguay,
Turkey, Venezuela, etc., 10c. Finest approval sheets at 50 per
cent, discount. Agents wanted. Write for a selection to-day.
Scott Stamp & Coin Co., 127 Madison Ave., New York City.
SUMMER PRICES
lc. Postal Savings, 10 cts. One or two straight edges, ^w?. 1000
Ideal hinges in a box to be used as a watermark detector, 15 cts.
Commemorative Stamps of the World
A serial now running in our monthly paper. Sample free.
NEW ENGLAND STAMP CO.
43 Washington Building, Boston, Mass.
STAMP ALBUM with 538 genuine stamps, incl. Rhodesia,
z^«ijfc\ Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania (landscape),
/tof^Sfifii Jamaica (waterfalls), etc., onlj 10c. 100 dif. Japan,
[iff 11) India, N. Zld., etc., 5c. Agents wanted 50%. Big Bar-
llHi Jsffl/ gain list, coupons, etc., nil Free] \\ e Buy Stamps
\Sggw' C. E. 1 1 1 ssman Stamp Co., Dept. I, St. Louis, Mo.
1000 different stamps.no two alike, Cata. $28 for $2. 500diff.
stamps for 50c; 300diff.,25c; 100diff.,2c. 5t)diff. U. S. Revenues,
Cata. $5 for 80c. Bolivia, 18941c.,— 100c. complete for 10c. Prussia,
9 varieties, 10c. Jos. F. Negreen, 8 E. 23d St., New York.
RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
^Sjjjv with Catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents. If possible send
/gJaP^KXV names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special
(Ml JJMU offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
WmWMI llc.;40 |apan,5c; 100 T . S., 20c.; 10 Paraguay, 7c; 17
WsS*/ Mexico. 10c; 20 Turkey, 7c; 10 Persia, 7c; 3 Sudan, 5i .;
N<a2S^ luChile, 3c.;50 Italy, 19c; 200 Foreign, 10c; 10 Egypt,
7c; 50 Africa,24c; 3 Crete, 3c; 20 Denmark, 5c; 20 Portugal, 6c; 7
Siam, 15c; 10 Brazil, 5c; 7 Malay, 10c; 10 Finland, 5c; 50 Persia,
89c; 50 Cuba, 60c; 6 China, 4c; 8 Bosnia, 7c Remit in Stamps or
Money-Order. Fine approval sheets 50% Discount, 50 Page List
Free. Marks Stamp Company. Dept. N, Toronto, Canada.
WHEN YOU GET THE DESIRE
FOR STAMP COLLECTING
send reference inclosing 3c for our 125 variety packet and series
of 60% approval sheets to
Palm Stamp Co., 249 No. CarondeletSt.,Los Angeles, Cal.
RARHAINS EACH SET 5 cents.
Di-VrvVj^lll^^J 1Q Luxembourg ; 8 Finland ; 20 Sweden ;
15 Russia ; 8 Costa Rica ; 12 Porto Rico ; 8 Dutch Indies ; 5
Crete. Lists of 6000 low-priced stamps free.
Chambers Stamp Co., Ill G Nassau Street, New York City.
O DIFFERENT SETS (36 STAMPS), 3c, if you send for
** trial approval sheets at 75% discount. litOO mixed foreign,
15c 500 hinges, 5c. F. J. Stanton (A), Norwich, N. Y.
STAIMP^I CHEAP! 333 GENUINE FOR-
J 1 A1N1 ij. gjg^ Missionary stamps. 5c. 100
foreign, no two alike, incl. India, Newfoundland, etc.,
only 5c 100 U. S. all diff.. scarce lot, only 30c 1000
fine mixed, 15c Agts. wtd., 50%. List free. I buy
stamps. L. B. Dover, D-6, St. Louis, Mo.
CM A DC 200 ALL DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS
JllAriJ for only 10c. 70 All Dif. U. S , includingold issues
of 1853-1861, etc.; revenue stamps, $1.00 and $2. HO values, etc., for
only 10c With each order we send our 6-page pamphlet, which
tells all about " How to make a collection of stamps properly."
Queen City Stamp& Coin Co., 7 Sinton Bldg., Cincinnati, O.
STAMPS FREE, 100 ALL DIFFERENT.
For the names of two collectors and 2c postage. 20 different
foreign coins, 25c Toledo Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio, U.S.A.
STAMPS 108 ALL DIFFERENT.
Transvaal, Servia, Brazil, Peru, Cape G. H., Mex-
ico, Natal, Java, etc., and Album, 10c. 1000 Finely I
Mixed, 20c. 65 different U. S., 25c 1000 hinges, 5c I
Agents wanted, 50 per cent. List Free. I buy stamps.
C. Stegman, 5941 Cote Brilliante Av., St. Louis, Mo.
STAMPS 100 VARIETIES FOREIGN, FREE. Postage 2c
Mention St. Nicholas. Quaker Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio.
DANDY PACKET STAMPS free for name, address 2 collec-
tors, 2c postage. Send to-day. U.T.K. Stamp Co., Utica, N. Y.
STAMPS 105 China, Egypt,etc,stamp dictionary and list 3000 |Sa
bargains 2c Agts., 50%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. 1221
500 stamps, 17c; 25 British Colonies, 15c; 20 French Colonies,
20c Stamps on approval at 50% discount. State size of your
collection. B. Elmer, 345a Wa.hington St., Boston, Mass.
C rDCMfU COLONIAL STAMPS for the names of
*» ' I >■*-"" V^n two stamp collectors and two-cent postage.
5 Different Foreign Post Cards, 5 cts. 1000 Different Foreign
Stamps, fine selection, $1.75. Buying list of coins, 10 cts. We
also buy U. S. stamps and collections of 3000 or more. Selling
lists free. Approvals 5()%. Sample copy Stamp &• Coin Collec-
tor free. A. H. Kraus, 687 Kraus Bldg., Milwaukee, Wis.
5 VARIETIES PERU FREE.
With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N. Y.
: rare, sensitive plant
igents. Name paper.
Payn Stamp Co., 138 No. Wellington St., Los Angeles, Cal.
CT A IV/IPQ '°0 Diff., hinges, list,
•J 1 /\!VirO seeds, all for 8c 50% to agents. Name paper.
For School, College or Society.
The right kind are always a source
of pleasure. Why not get the right
kind? We make them. Catalog free.
No pins less than $5.00 per dozen.
FLOWER CITY CLASS PIN CO., 666 Central Building, Rochester, N. Y.
CLASS PINS
f'Ji.lc, ~_J Ri-i-»y£> Exchange Post Cards with St. Nick's
V»IrI» ana DOyb girls and boys. Send 10 cents in
stamps or coin for list to Helen Akin, Ogdensburg, New York.
Patronize St. Nicholas advertisers
21
ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS
Does the Century Magazine
Come to Your Home?
When you older boys and girls begin feel-
ing almost too old for St. Nicholas, and
think about a grown-up magazine, com-
mence with The Century.
THE CENTURY
ILLUSTRATED
^MONTHLY®
MAGAZINE
*
You know the word magazine means store-
house. St. Nicholas, like a storehouse, has
given you in abundance its entertainment, and
a great deal of happiness you will never forget.
It has taught you what pleasant comradeship
and everlasting satisfaction there are in good
reading
The Century's contents are a bigger and more
varied storehouse. From them come clever
stories, verse, and humor. The world's strange
places spread out before you as travelers re-
trace their journeys through well written,
beautifully illustrated, articles. New develop-
ments in science, government, education, and
other fields are so explained that you become
interested in their importance.
$4.00
A YEAR
The Century is an interesting, beautiful,
and valuable companion that you will
enjoy the year round.
THE CENTURY GO. Union Square NEW YORK
22
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