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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 


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 

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(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. 


s 


c^jjs 


V 


s<~>J> 


w<a& 


THE    SEMSIT1VE  FILAMT 

©Ihio  tHe  s©imsata^©  plant 
Is  awff-aalJs''  qjtm©©^  I 

It  slhraimSSs  tyip  wittlfe,  fes^p.. 

It  s©©mms  t©  g^ow  tlsmiadl 
Fir©ffim  lavaim^  ©aclh,  dls^ 

®^  ttlhi©  Ibaf|  ttag|©ir= 
S©  iS©2=<e©  gumdl  S( 


S^i 


I   gtm©ss  yo^a  Ddt  lb©  ifs:,ag>]hi'it©E&®dl — 
1  wotmldU  dlost^t  y@m  s©©? 

Hf  m  Ibiff  ^©IJ©w  ti^tsw 

Lawedl  im©3stl  dl@©ir  to  ma©  I 


J 


/ 


</-? 


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. ) 


It   is    sclcloiw,  -So-tcL  cxrt.  GTL  z.t  <z.c    to  lixs   <y\Jxr<2^ , 
TTlxo,^:  ~w<l,  xin-ct   otjl\-»  Doc.    3o  bnsK  cv-racL    £tjlII    or    Ixire^. 
xTcurrce^,  JDcrorfc  you  s&rvc/  tric^T'c.c-L,  -yo\x  -m.T-a-sV  W-y  coCctceh    cl-zcxc  jf><i.<L, 
£osr  >/vc    y^cMry-  cawnot  ^  I  ci.ro  a.   tkxS  noise  cured,  otr'trc^ . 


^AjiJ^i^orx  -Tad/ 


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 


,.*, ...  £k*JJL. 

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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 

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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 
IT.     WORTH  $1.00.     NONE  FREE. 

IDEAL  AEROPLANE  &  SUPPLY  CO. 
84-86  "West  Broadway,        -  New  York  City- 


Easy  to 
Bay 


A  SHETLAND  PONY 

is  an  unceasing  source  of  pleasure.  A  Bafe 
and  ideal  playmate.  Makes  the  child 
strong  and  of  robust  health.  Highest 
type — complete  outfits — here. 
Inexpensive.  Satisfaction  guar- 
anteed. Write  for  illustrated 
catalog. 

BELLE  MEADE  FARM 
Dept.  9  Markham,  Va. 


For  School,  College  or  Soci- 
ety. The  right  kind  are  always 
a  source  of  pleasure.  Why 
not   get  the  right  kind?    We 

^z=^^^^==^^=^^=z    make   them.     Catalog  free. 

FLOWER  CITY  CLASS  PIN  CO.,  656  Central  Building,  Rochester,  N.  Y. 


Class  Pins 


HEALTH 
MERRY-GO-ROUND 

Provides  health-pro- 
moting, outdoor  exer- 
cise and  amusement 
for  your  children  at 
home.  Strongly  built; 
repair  proof.  Children 
Every  machine  guaranteed.    Free 


operate  it  with  hands  and  feet. 
trial.     Write  us. 

HEALTH  MERRY-GO-ROUND  CO.. 


217  Ky.  St. 


Quincy,  111. 


AYVAD'S  WATER=WINGS 


For  Sale  Everywhere 


Learn  to  Swim  by- 
One   Trial 

Plain,  25c. 
Fancy,  35c. 

AYVAD  MAN'F'G  CO.,  Hoboken.N 


25 


ST.  NICHOLAS  ADVERTISEMENTS 


Is  Your  Glove  Stiff? 

Put  a  little  "3-in-One"  oil  on 
fingers  and  palm  and  the  leather 
becomes  soft  and  pliable  at  once. 
The  ball  will  stick  better  and 
glove  will  last  twice  as  long. 

"3-in-One"  makes  base-ball 
cover  and  stitches  stronger  and 
hold  longer.  It  also  prevents 
rust  on  mask,  fasteners,  etc. 
Not  sticky  or  greasy. 
rnrP  Write  today  for 
flff  f      large      free      sample 

.7    >tde  and  "3-in- 

One**  dictionary. 
3-ln-0ne0ilCo.,42Q.M.  Brdwy.,  N.  Y. 


DON'T  MUFF 


the  ball,  put  "3-in- 
One"  oil  on  your 
glove ;  softens  the 
leather  so  the  ball 
sticks  right  in  the  center;  makes  your  glove  look 
twice  as  good  and  wear  four  times  as  long.  Get  a 
sample  bottle  free  from  t 

3-in-0ne  Oil  Co.,  42  Q.  M.  Broadway,  New  York  City 

BOYS  DON'T  DROWN 

your  tools  in  cheap  oil.  A  few  drops  of  "3-in-One" 
makes  brace. and  bit,  plane,  saws,  all  tools  work  per- 
fectly— keeps  them  bright  and  clean,  free  from  rust. 
Writeto3-in-One  Oil  Co.,  42  Q.  M.  Broadway, 
New  York  City  for  generous  sample  bottle — FREE. 


A  QUARTER  CENTURY 
BEFORE  THE  PUBLIC 

Over   Five  Million   Free    Samples    Given 
Away  Each    Year. 

The    Constant    and  Increasing  Sales 

From  Samples  Proves   the 

Genuine  Merit    of 

ALLEN'S  F00T=EASE. 

Shake  Into  Your  Shoes 

Allen's  Foot=Ease,  the  antiseptic 
powder  for  the  feet.  Are  you  a  trifle 
sensitive  about  the  size  of  your 
shoes?  Many  people  wear  shoes 
a  size  smaller  by  shaking  Allen's 
Foot=Ease  into  them.  Just  the 
thing  for  aching,  hot  feet  and  for 
Breaking  in  New  Shoes.  If  you 
have  tired,  swollen,  tender  feet, 
Allen's  Foot-Ease  gives  instant 
relief.  We  have  over  30,000 
testimonials.  TRY  IT  TO-DAY.  Sold 
everywhere,  25c.  Do  not  accept  any 
substitute.   FREE  TRIAL  PACKAGE  sent  by  mail. 

Mother  Gray's  Sweet  Powders,  S?£ftffffiS 

Children.     Sold  by   Druggists  everywhere.      Trial  package  FREE. 

Address,  ALLEN  S.  OLMSTED,  LE  ROY,  N.Y. 


26 


"'     Florida  Water  ** 

"THE  UNIVERSAL  PERFUME" 


Has  a  distinctive 
quality,    a    rich 
fragrance,  which 
from  every  other 
appeals  to  all 
and  refinement, 
forms  the  daily 
luxury  and  a 
the  best  thing 
shaving  and 
purpose;    an 
ity   in  every 


i  nvi  gor  atin  g 
and    permanent 
distinguishes    it 
toilet  water,  and 
people   of   taste 
Its  use  trans- 
bath   into   a 
delight.     It  is 
to     use    after 
for  every  toilet 
actual  necess- 
household. 


ACCEPT  NO  SUBSTITUTE ! 
SOLD  BY  ALL  LEADING  DRUGGISTS 


Sample  mailed  on  receipt  of  six  cents  to  defray 
mailing  charges. 

LANMAN  &  KEMP, 135  ^E?0wcEET 


SYDNEY  SHORT  LINE 

NEW  SERVICE.  19  DAYS  FROM  SAN  FRANCISCO  Via  HONOLULU  and  TUTUILA  (SAMOA) 

SPLENDID  STEAMERS  of  OCEANIC  STEAMSHIP  CO.  iSpreckels  Line),  10,000  tons 
displacement,  sail  from  San  Francisco,  July  2,  July  30  (new 
schedule)  and  every  28  days  thereafter  on  a  19-DAY  SERVICE  TO  SYD- 
NEY, AUSTRALIA,  with  stop  at  HONOLULU  and  SAMOA.  THE  QUICK  AND  ATTRAC- 
TIVE ROUTE  TO  THE  ANTIPODES.  New  York  to  Sydney,  1st  class,  $277.75 ; 
2nd  class,  {190.75.  Round  world,  $600  1st  class;  $375  2nd  class,  via 
Ceylon  and  Mediterranean.     (Stop-overs.) 

HONOLULU  $110  •"AtfR&sr 

Sailings  Every  2  Weeks 
OCEANIC  STEAMSHIP  CO.,  673  Market  St.,  San  Francisco 


SANE  FOURTH  OUTFIT 

Complete  for  $1.00 

Here's  vour  chance,  boys,  girls,  every- 
body !  We  're  making  a  remarkable 
offer  for  the  Fourth  this  year  :  I  dozen 
balloons  4^  ft.  high,  I  "RIGHT"  air- 
ship 5^  ft.  long  (the  kind  that  sails  like  a  real  one), 
and  I  dozen  sparkler  torches  —  all  for  $1.00.  You'd 
have  to  pay  $1.85  for  this  outfit  at  any  store. 

Order  today  and  we  '11 
forward  by  Express  at  once 
the  greatest  Fourth  Outfit  yuu 
ever  saw.  (Package  weighs  only 
2%  lbs  ) 
5j£   ft.    airship  alone,    postpaid,    30c. 

BRAZEL   NOVELTY  MFG.  CO. 
1739  Ella  St.,  Cincinnati 


^gs^y^  bf 


[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 

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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 


«Jl«l«allwBJmBBSi5^ 


A  VERY  UGLY  CUSTOMER 

I  THE  CHAMPION  OF  TH1 

I  BATCH;     *£a 

|  AND  HERE'S  WHAT^ 

I  HAPPENED  ON  THE  BAY 
1  THE  GIANT"  MET  HIS 
I  MATCH  i^-^ 


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 


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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 


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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. 


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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    PRAY,    DOCTOR    FRANKLIN,    HOW    DID    YOU    KNOW    OF    GRANNY  .S    MAXIMS? 


"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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*5 


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. 


IN  NATURE  STUDY  *ffi*« >f&on° 

costing  $5  or  less  opens  up  a  new  world.     Send  for  instructive  cir- 
cular free.  J.  C.  PHIN,  Faterson,  N.  J. 


THE  PARACHUTE  KITE 

You  can  make  one  easily 

Fun?    A  bushel  of  it,  boys. 

Here  's  something  that  will  make 
all  the     ^x       fellows  take  notice  ! 
Send  12    \.        cents    and    you    will    receive, 


{ 


prepaid 
Di  recti 
2.  Aerial  railway  attachment, 
height  when  kite  is  up.     When 
releases  a  parachute,  or  other  aerial  toy, 
then  returns  to  the  ground,  to  be  sent  up 
you  like. 

3.  Directions  for  making  many  other  aerial  toys. 

4.  Special  offer  of  agency  in  your  town  by  which 
you  can  make  lots  of  money. 

All  the  boys  will  want  one  when  they  see  yours. 
Be  the  first  yourself. 
The  Auto  &.  Marine  Specialty  Co. ,  Dept.  B,  Trenton,  N.  J. 


iking  kite. 

It  climbs  the  cord  to  any 

t  reaches  the  kite  it 

The  aerial  railway 

as  many  times  as 


19 


ST.  NICHOLAS  ADVERTISEMENTS 


Patronize    Those    Who 
Believe    in    You 

I   know  you  read  with  interest  everything  printed 
between  the  covers  of  St.  Nicholas. 

My  one  great  desire  is  to  make  these  advertising 
pages  interesting  to  you  and  your  father  and  mother, 
and,  in  fact,  every  one  in  the  thousands  of  homes 
where  St.  Nicholas  goes  every  month. 

St.  Nicholas  advertisers  believe  in  you;  they  show 
their  faith  in  your  good  judgment  by  bringing  their 
wares  to  your  notice ;  they  want  you  to  know  about 
the  goods  they  make  and  sell;  they  want  you  to 
know  about  these  goods  while  you  are  growing  up 
— they  want  you  to  buy  them  now  and  continue  to 
do  so  for  years  and  years  to  come — -just  as  they  want 
your  mother  and  father  to  buy  them  now. 

St.  Nicholas  only  wants  the  best  kind  of  adver- 
tisers to  become  acquainted  with  its  readers — just  so 
we  want  you  to  be  friends  with  the  St.  Nicholas 
advertisers.  Let  us  all  patronize  these  big  business 
concerns  who  believe  in  us,  and  we  '11  be  a  happy 
family,  you  may  be  sure. 

DON  M.  PARKER 
Advertising  Manager 

Union  Square,  New  York 


20 


ST.  NICHOLAS  ADVERTISEMENTS 


Get  Your  Tan  Comfortably 

There  are  few  women  who  do  not  look  well  with  a  good 
coat  of  tan,  and  the  kiddies  look  fine  with  it,  too. 

But  a  sudden  sunburn  is  painful  to  tender  skins. 

Rub  in  a  little  White  Vaseline  night  and  morning — 
or  Perfumed  White  Vaseline,  if  you  prefer  it— and  you 
get  your  tan  without  the  usual  redness  and  discomfort. 

Vaseline 

The  "  Vaseline  "  goes  into  the   pores,    soothes    the   irritated 
tissues,  refreshes  and  cleanses  the  skin. 
it        "  Vaseline  "  is  absolutely  pure  and  sterile.      It  never  turns  rancid. 
['    It  leaves  the  skin  with  that  soft,  youthful  freshness 
that  no  artificial  treatment  can  give. 

You  do  not  know  the  full  secret  of  that  healthy,  outdoor 
lookunless  you  know  about  the  "  Vaseline" preparations. 

Every  woman  should  read  our  in- 
teresting booklet,  mailed  on  request 

CHESEBROUGH  MANUFACTURING  COMPANY 

(Consolidated) 
16K  State  Street,  New  York  City  Branch  Offices :  London  —  Montreal 


RUBBER  BUTTON 


Hose  Supporter 


Buy  by  name 


Gives  the 
utmost  wear' 
value. 

Always  neat, 

strong  and  secure, 
ur  exclusive  rub- 
ber button  saves  stockings. 

EVERY   PAIR   GUARANTEED 

SOLD  EVERYWHERE 

George  Frost  Co. 

MAKERS,    BOSTON 

Also  makers  of  the  famous 
Boston  Garter  for  men. 


Gives 

Perfect 

Freedom 


Children's 
sample  pair 

16  c.  postpaid 
{give  age). 


:  ■■■. 


At  birth,  this  splendid  little 
7~\  rosy-cheeked  girl 
(Ruth  Ellen 
Smith,  of  Wenat- 
chee,  Washing- 
ton), was  put  on 

Eskay's 
Food 

She  has  always  been  as 
robust  and  healthy  as  her 
picture,  at   A%  years, 
shows  her  to  be. 

FREE  SAMPLE 

of  Eskay's  Food  (ten  feed- 
ings), also  a  copy  of  our 
helpful  book,  "How  to 
Care  for  the  Baby." 

Smith,  Kline  &  French  Co. 
462  Arch  St.         Philadelphia 


21 


ST.  NICHOLAS  ADVERTISEMENTS 


To  have  the  clothes  iron  up 
white  and  crisp  use  this  pure 
natural  lump   starch.     It  may 

cost  a  little  more  in  the  box,  but 
measure  the  amount  used  and 
the  results  obtained  as  against 
other  starches  and  you  save  by 
using  it. 

OSWEGO 

SILVER  GLOSS 

STARCH 

— known  to  fine  laundresses  every- 
where— and  to  three  generations  of 
American  housekeepers  as  the  ever 
reliable  starch  for  hot 
or  cold  starching  and 
for  all  kinds  of  work, 
coarse  or  fine. 

Insist  on    Kingsford's   Os- 
wego   Silver  Gloss   Starch. 
See  that  your  grocer  de- 
livers it — see  that  your 
laundress  uses  it. 

Sold  in  I  lb.,  3  lb.  and 
6  lb.  boxes 

T.  Kingsford  &  Son 

National  Starch  Co.,  Suc'rs 
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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." 


mf9  bask  hsmm. 


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 

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Jftft             1              r^g*a,<>'*    ^^- 

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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 


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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. 


STAMPS  108  ALL  DIFFERENT. 

Transvaal,  Servia,   Brazil,    Peru,   Cape  G.  H-,  Mex-  [ 
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. 

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,  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 
YrU1     v'rtJn  original    envelops.     Collec- 

tions bought.  Set  6  Philippine  Insurgent  Stamps,  catalogued 
SI. 12;  unused,  35c.    E.  S.  Applegate  &  Co.,  Trenton,  N.  J. 


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 
are  called  perforation  gages.  These  are  cards,  or 
sometimes  transparent  pieces  of  celluloid,  on  which 
are  printed  a  series  of  dots  or  points.  Place  the 
stamp  upon  the  card,  and  move  it  along  until  the 
perforations  compare  exactly  with  the  dots  on  the 
gage.  On  the  margin  of  the  card  is  noted  the  size 
of  that  gage.  These  cards  cost  only  a  few  cents, 
and  are  very  convenient. 


& 


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I 


18 


ST.  NICHOLAS  ADVERTISEMENTS 


ST.  NICHOLAS  STAMP  DIRECTORY 


THE  CONTINENTAL  K&.t 

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,  fine.  lf)00 
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, 
y^fiiffev  Congo  (tiger),  China  (dragon),  Tasmania  (landscape), 
/5%*%KK\  Jamaica  (waterfalls),  etc.,  only  10c.  100  dif.  Japan, 
(Ml  IW  India,  N.  Zld.,  etc.,  5c.  Agents  wanted  50%.  Big  Bar- 
vWkJRJy  gain  list,  coitions,  etc.,  all  Free!  We  Buy  Stamps. 
XsSSfsW'    C.  K.  Hussman  Stamp  Co.,  Dept.  I,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 


RARE  Stamps  Free.  15  all  different,  Canadians,  and  10  India, 
•jfiljjv  with  Catalogue  Free.  Postage  2  cents.  If  possible  send 
/2jff"%S{8i  names  and  addresses  of  two  stamp  collectors.  Special 
ml  jH|  offers,  all  different,  contain  no  two  alike.  50  Spain, 
WmwMI  He;  40  [apan,5(  ;  100  U.  S.,  20c;  10  Paraguay,  7c;  17 
XjESS!?*/  Mexico,  10c;20Turkey,7c.;10  Persia.  7c. ;  3  Sudan.  5c; 
Xs52^  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. 


RARPAIN<s    EACH  SET  S  CENTS. 

0/\I\.VSAll^k7     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. 


STAMPS!    CHEAP!  333  GENUINE  FOR- 

i3Irtl«riJ.  dp.  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. 


7f»  DIFFERENT  FOREIGN   STAMPS  FROM  70  D1F- 

•  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.,  7Sinton  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 
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  list3000  tSR 
bargains  2c    Agts.,  5o%.     Bullard  &  Co.,  Sta.  A,  Boston.  !S 

FREE    ^"  different  stamps  to  all  sending  for  my  approval 

l^"1^    books  at  50  to  66^3  per  cent,  discount.     Reference 

required.    B.  Elmer,  345a  Washington  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 

5  FRENCH  COLONIAL  STAMPS  for  the  names  of  two 
stamp  collectors  and2c  postage.  5  Different  Foreign  PostCards, 
5c  Catalogues  free.  Approvals50%.  Samplecopy  Stamp  &*  Coin 
Collector  int.  A.H.  Kraus,  655  KrausBi.dg.,  Milwaukee,  Wis. 

5    VARIETIES  PERU  FREE. 
With  trial  approval  sheets.    F.  E.  Thorp,  Norwich,  N.  Y. 


SELF-SETTING  PLANES 

Sent  to  any  child  on  trial  as  per  circular 

Children  can  set  them. 

Give  children  the  best  and 

they  will  do  their  best. 

Send  stamp  for  circulars 

and  say  I  saw  your  Ad.  in 

St.  Nicholas. 

GAGE  TOOL  CO.,  Vineland.N.  J. 

PATRONIZE  the   advertisers  who  use   ST. 
NICHOLAS— their  products  are   known  to 
be  worthy  of  your  attention. 


Educate  Your  Child 

at  Home 

Under  the  direction  of 

CALVERT  SCHOOL,  Inc. 

( Estahlishal  i8qy  ) 
A  unique  system  by  means  of  which  chil- 
dren from  kindergarten  to  12  years  of  age 
may  be  educated  entirely  at  homeby  thebest 
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.  H1LLYER,  A.B.  (Harvard),  Headmaster. 


ST.  NICHOLAS  ADVERTISEMENTS 


Coward 

Shoe 


KEG.    U.    S.    PAT.   OFF. 


Do  Your  Children's  Ankles 
Turn  in? 

Know  where  the  trouble  is  ?  It  is  in  the  arch 
of  the  foot,  which  has  either  weakened  or  sagged. 
It  needs  proper  mechanical  support  to  restore 
it  to  normal  position  and  «>«dition. 

This  Coward  Shoe  was  made  to  help  children 
with  weak  ankle  and  arch.  The  Coward  Arch 
Support  rests  the  weakened  muscles,  and  holds 
them  gently,  but  firmly  in  place.  Coward  Exten- 
sion Heel  gives  additional  support  to  the  arch, 
and  helps  to  keep  the  ankle  upright.  Coward 
Good  Sense  Last  gives  confidence  to  the  step, 
and  poises  the  body,  both  walking  and  standing. 

Physicians  and  orthopaedists  recommend  the 
wearing  of  this  Coward  Shoetorelieveand  correct 
archand ankle  weakness,  andprevent  "flat-foot." 

Coward  Arch  Support  Shoe  and  Cow- 
ard Extension  Heel  have  been  made 
by  James  S.  Coward,  in  his  Custom 
Department,      for     over     30     years. 

Mail  Orders   Filled — Send  for  Catalogue 


SOLD  NOWHERE  ELSE 

JAMES  S.  COWARD 

264-274  Greenwich  St. 

(near  warren  street) 

NEW  YORK  CITY 


ST.  NICHOLAS 

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20 


ST.  NICHOLAS  ADVERTISEMENTS 


»«$&-*. 


/W< 


/  "My  boy  is 

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developed, 

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"He  was  raised  on 

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and  I  attribute  all  to  his  good  nourish- 
ment.    "His  picture  speaks  for  itself." 

"Ask  your  doctor"  about  Eskay's  and  send  for 

TEN  FEEDINGS  FREE 

and  our  helpful  mother's  book,  "How  to  Care 
for  the  Baby" — mailed  on  request. 

SMITH,  KLINE  &  FRENCH  CO.        462  Arch  St.,  Philadelphia 


KEEPS 
THINGS 


44 


TYPEWRITERS 
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thing in  home,  office  or  store 
always  perfectly  oiled,  "clean 
as  a  whistle,"  polished  bright  as 
new  and  as  free  from  rust  and 
tarnish  as  the  day  it  was  bought. 

Try  "3 -in -One"  for  sewing 
machines,  clocks,  cameras,  type- 
writers, furniture,  bathroom  fix- 
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guns,  fishing  rods   and    reels,  etc. 

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Sold  at  all  good  stores. 

|7  Write  for  generous  sample 

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21 


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ST.  NICHOLAS  ADVERTISEMENTS 

lllllllllllllllllllilllllllllllltllllllllllllllllllll  limiMMIMMMtlllMllilillltim  Ill Ill 


THE 

STRANGLING 
OF  PERSIA 

By  W.  Morgan  Shuster 

Ex-Treasurer-General  of  Persia 

Do  you  know  why  Persia  called  an  Ameri- 
can citizen  to  be  her  Treasurer-General? 

Do  you  know  that  an  honest,  fearless,  effi- 
cient administration  of  Persia's  finances 
meant  her  national  regeneration? 

Do  you  know  that  W.  Morgan  Shuster  risked 
his  life  daily  for  months  to  give  Persia  such 
an  administration  ? 

Do  you  know  how,  finally,  foreign  avarice 
and  foreign  violence  drove  him  from  the 
country  and  robbed  Persia  of  all  her  rights 
as  a  self-respecting  and  independent  nation? 

THIS  IS  THE  FULL  STORY 
A  THRILLING  ONE 

Many  illustrations.    Price  $2.50  net,  postage  15  cents. 

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 

The  Century  Co.  and  its  editors  receive  manuscripts  and  art  material,  sitbjnitted 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,  j>1.0n.  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 
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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 


1 

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'.t\cr-V\iMiL— v    I 

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 


•'»   . 


F 


.     *        w 

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. 


w?3  ,; 

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S'  3"  S  ^ 
p  c/q  n  2 


< 


2  M^^ 
<  3  ™  ^ 
ft  3      — 

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ibisi 


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m  lit  I 


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 


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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- 


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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 


ft 


3n- 


THE  UNSUSPECTED  TALENT 


PKStevens 


~^==zd=^^ 


Hsu 


tefc 


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. 


W£& 


■ra 


i 


3-vC; 


feSS^^ 


ftoll 


oK 


°und\ 


no 

lb 


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 


^~v 


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 
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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 


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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 


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1 11  y  M^**fi 


>32.  ,x 


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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. 


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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 
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trace their  journeys  through  well  written, 
beautifully  illustrated,  articles.  New  develop- 
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The  Century  is  an  interesting,  beautiful, 
and  valuable  companion  that  you  will 
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THE   CENTURY  GO.  Union  Square  NEW  YORK 


22 


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