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ST. NICHOLAS:

Illustrated Magazine

For Young Folks

VOLUME XL.
Part I. — November, 1912, to April, 1913.

THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK

FREDERICK WARNE & CO., LONDON.

The De Vinne Press.

Library, Univ. ©f
North C*ro4if»»

ST. NICHOLAS:

VOLUME XL.

PART I.

Six Months — November, 1912, to April, 1913.

Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2013

http://archive.org/details/stnicholasserial401dodg

CONTENTS OF PART I. VOLUME XL.

PAGE

Admiral, The. Verse. (Illustrated by B. Putnam) Herbert Putnam 544

Adventures of Billy Bowline, The. (Illustrated by Fanny Y. Cory) Harriet L. Wedgwood. . . . 165

Alphabet's Holiday, The. Verse. (Illustrated by George Varian) Margaret Johnson 541

Aunt 'Phroney's Boy. (Illustrated by George Avison) L. Frank Baum 104

Aztec Jingles : A Royal Release. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) /. G. Francis 30

Aztec Jingles : The Jovial Judge. (Illustrated by the Author) /. G. Francis 347

Babe, How, Escaped Polo. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) I cola Forrester 43

"Babes of the Wild." (Illustrated by Paul Bransom) Charles G. D. Roberts

Teddy Bear's Bee-Tree 231

The Adventures of Young Grumpy 291

The Little Furry Ones that Slide Downhill 397

The Baby and the Bear 486

Baby and the Bear, The. ("Babes of the Wild." IV) (Illustrated by Paul

Bransom) ' Charles G. D. Roberts. . . . 486

Ballads of the Be-Ba-Boes: The Christmas Tree. (Illustrated by Katha-
rine Maynadier Daland) D. K. Stevens 245

Beatrice of Denewood. (Illustrated by Charles M. Relyea) Emilie Benson Knipe and

Aid en Arthur Knipe 21

116, 219, 332, 411, 509

Billy Bowline, The Adventures of. (Illustrated by Fanny Y. Cory) Harriet L. Wedgwood. ... 165

Birds of the Year. Verse. (Illustrated by Bruce Horsfall) Minnie Leona Upton 306

"Birds that Fly Zigzag, The." Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) George O. Butler 129

Book of the Black Art, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Herbert Paus) Augusta Huiell Seaman.. 492

"Boy and the Man, The": Talks with Boys. (Illustrated from photo-
graphs)

"The Boy and the Man" President John Gricr

Hibben 227

The Force of Sunlight Rev. Dr. Hugh Birckhead. 227

"Live for What You Would Like to be at Sixty" Admiral F. E. Chadwick. . 228

Two Essentials Gifford Pinchot 229

What is Success? Colonel Henry G. Prout. . 229

The Ready Means of Happiness Hon. Jean Jules Jusserand 340

A Few Suggestions Hon. John Bigelow 341

Lessons Not Learned Out of Books James McCrea 341

The Dawn of a New Era Rev. Endicott Peabody. . . 342

The Challenge of Life Hamilton Wright Mabie. . 342

A Friendly Greeting Hon. and Rev. Edward

Lyttelton 447

Art, a Lifelong Benefit Elihu Vedder 447

Your Interest in Athletics General George W.

Wingate 448

Boy's Logic, A. Verse Oscar Llewelyn 442

Brooks. Phillips : See "More Than Conquerors" T30

vi CONTENTS

PACE

Brownies in the Grist-Mill, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Palmer Cox 56

Brownies and the Stalled Train, The. Verse. " " " 252

Brownies Mend the Dam, The. Verse. " " 443

"Calling." Picture, drawn by Gertrude Kay 65

Christmas Catch, A. Verse. (Illustrated by Clara M. Burd) Cecil Cavendish 140

Christmas Mousie, The. (Illustrated by Culmer Barnes) Ida Kenniston igo

Christmas, Our. Verse. (Illustrated by Gertrude A. Kay) Alice Lovett Carson 114

Christmas Secrets. Verse. (Illustrated by Edna F. Hart) Lillie Gilliland McDowell. 202

Clocks, Curious. (Illustrated from photographs) Charles A. Brassier 257

Conduct of the Conductor, The. (Illustrated by George Varian) Elizabeth C. Webb 328

Dancing Class, The— "That Awkward Boy!" Picture, drawn by Ger-
trude A. Kay 508

Day After Christmas, The. Picture, drawn by Leighton Budd 201

December Days. Verse. (Illustrated by Otto Rebele) Edward N. Teall 218

"Dogs at Large." Picture, drawn by A. Z. Baker 494

Dolly's Lullaby. Verse. (Illustrated by Blanche Fisher Wright) Mrs. Schuyler Van

Rensselaer 360

"Dutch Treat, A." (Illustrated by Oscar F. Schmidt) Giulia Hossfeld 31

Emerson, Ralph Waldo : See "More Than Conquerors" 499

Fables, Old, Brought Up to Date: The Shepherd Boy and the Wolf.

(Illustrated by the Author) C.J. Budd 249

Fine Feathers. Verse. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Carolyn Wells 326

Fir-Tree, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Bruce Horsfall) Anna B. Bryant 396

Flood Crest, On the. (Illustrated by B. J. Rosenmeyer) Charles Tenney Jackson . 495

Flossy's Way. Verse John E. Dolsen 331

Foot-ball, What Woodrow Wilson did for American. (Illustrated by

Oscar F. Schmidt, and from photographs) ' Parke H. Davis 13

Friendships, Curious, among Animals. (Illustrated from photographs) . . . Ellen Velvin 437

Grandmother's Garret, In. Picture, drawn by George Avison 457

Great Blue Heron, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Bruce Horsfall) Laura Spencer Portor. . . . 482

Grumpy, Young, The Adventures of. ("Babes of the Wild." II) (Illus-
trated by Paul Bransom) Charles G. D. Roberts .... 291

Hallowe'en, A Rhyme of. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) George O. Butler 20

Helene and Lucy. Picture, painted by H. S. Hubbell 491

"Honk ! Honk !" Chorus, A. Picture, drawn by J. B. Graff 524

Horn-blower of Ripon, The. (Illustrated from photograph) Helen Marshall Pratt 419

Horses of St. Mark's, The Famous. (Illustrated by Robert Blum, and from

photograph) Mary Lloyd 390

India : See "Raja, His Highness the Young" 27

Inventions, The First George Ethelbert Walsh. . 345

"I 've Got a Dog." Verse. (Illustrated by Oscar F. Schmidt) Ethel M. Kelley 152

Jacob and Gretchen. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) Elisabeth Atkins 153

Jovial Judge, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) /. G. Francis 347

Junior-Man. Verse. (Illustrated by Clara M. Burd) Ruth McEnery Stuart. . . . 250

"Just Anna." (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Marion Hill 195

Just Be Good. Verse James Rowe 112

Kane and Pard. (Illustrated by Bruce Horsfall) Addison Hoivard Gibson. . 264

Land of Mystery, The. (Illustrated by J. Paleologue, Jay Hambidge, Talbot

Kelly, Jules Guerin, and from photographs) Cleveland Moffett 3

142, 237, 349, 428, 525

Lincoln, Abraham : See "More Than Conquerors" 30S, 499

Little Critic, The. Picture, from painting by Francis Day 533

Little Furry Ones, The, that Slide Downhill. ("Babes of the Wild."

Ill) (Illustrated by Paul Bransom) Charles G. D. Roberts .... 397

Marathon, The. Verse. (Illustrated by C. F. Peters) Fred Jacob 52

Men Who Do Things, With. (Illustrated by Edwin F. Bayha, and from

photographs) A. Russell Bond 402, 533

CONTENTS vn

PAGE

Merry Christmas, A. Verse. (Illustrated by Ruth S. Clement) A. L. Sykes 20S

More Than Conquerors. Biographical Sketches Ariadne Gilbert

(Illustrated by Oscar F. Schmidt, Otto Rebele, Eastman Johnson, Harry
Fenn, and from photographs)

Through Failure to Success. ( Phillips Brooks) 130

A Modern Greatheart. (William Makepeace Thackeray) 209

The Matterhorn of Men. (Abraham Lincoln) 308, 449

Louisa M. Alcott's Great Friend and Neighbor. ( Ralph Waldo Emerson) 499

Mother Goose, The Nursery Rhymes of. (Illustrated by Arthur Rackham)

"Ring a Ring o' Roses"— "Little Tommy Tucker" 97

"The Man in the Wilderness"— "Humpty Dumpty"— "A Carrion-Crow

sat on an Oak"— "Little Miss Muff ett" 193

"Jack and Jill"— "If All the World was Apple-Pie" 481

My Girl. Verse Pauline Frances Camp .... 36

Nancy's Southern Christmas. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) '. . . . Harriet Prescott Spofford. 161

Nancy's Way. Verse. (Illustrated by Sarah K. Smith) Nora Bennett 428

Nightmare, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) James Route 517

Noll and Antoonje. (Illustrated by Herbert Pans) Elizabeth Atkins 298

Nursery Pet, A. Verse. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) Carolyn Wells 410

Ostrich Egg, Professor Wiseacre and the. Pictures, drawn by C. F. Lester 547

Outer Reef, The. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) Grace E. Craig 320

Pennybright's Circus. (Illustrated by John Edwin Jackson) Thomas H. Rogers 518

Playing Santa Claus. Verse. (Illustrated by Rachael Robinson Elmer) .. Pauline Frances Camp.... 139

Prince and the Peddler, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Herbert Paus) Stella George Stem Perry 420

Pumpkin Time. Verse. (Illustrated by Theresa Sturm Rogers) Edith Mallery 70

Quest of the Jimblejock, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) Ellen Manly 124

Raja, His Highness the Young. (Illustrated from photographs) . ; Mabel Alberta Spicer 37

Rapid Transit. Picture, drawn by A. Z. Baker 494

Reasoning. Verse. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch ) Nixon Waterman 427

Royal Release, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) /. G. Francis 30

Runty, the Boy Giant. (Illustrated by Herbert Paus) Wallace Dunbar Vincent. . 203

Santa Claus : "I 've Something for You." Picture, drawn by G. T. Tobin 113

Scott, Frank Hall, In Memory of. (Illustrated from photograph) 358

Secret, A. Verse. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) James Rowe 427

"Sheltie"— the Children's Friend. (Illustrated from photographs) Flora Macdonald 66

Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects : Looking at the Stars George Lawrence Parker . 318

Sir Christopher J. Jones. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) Frederick Moxon 316

Sleeping Beauty, The. Play. (Illustrated by Margaret Ely Webb) Caroline Verhoeff 548

Small Order, A. Verse James Rowe 129

Stars, Looking at the. ("Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects") George Lawrence Parker . 318

Storm, On Days of. Verse Margaret Johnson 64

Story of a Statue, The. (Bartolommeo Colleom) (Illustrated by Alfred

Brennan) Esther Matson 387

Stray Letter, A. Verse. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Mrs. John T. Van Sant. . . 230

Tea-cups. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Giulia Hossfeld 392

Teddy Bear's Bee-Tree. ("Babes of the Wild." I) (illustrated by Paul

Bransom) Charles G. D. Roberts 231

Ted, Ned, and the Sled. Verse. (Illustrated by E. Wendell Mitchell) Minnie Leona Upton 344

Thackeray, William Makepeace : See "More Than Conquerors" 209

Thanksgiving Day, The First. Play. (Illustrated by Otto Rebele) Agnes Miller 61

Three Guests. Verse. (Illustrated by Ethel Franklin Betts) Jessica Nelson North 151

Through the Smoke. (Illustrated by Edwin F. Bayha) F. Lovcll Coombs 422

Trials of Science. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Charles F. Lester 29

Unlucky Look, An. Verse James Rowe 244

What the Kettle Sings. Verse. (Illustrated by Albertine R. Wheelan) . ..Margaret Vandegrift 348

When Grandma was a Little Girl. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) . . . Sarah K. Smith 339

"When I 've Been Bad." Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Anna May Cooper 71

VTI1

CONTENTS

When Mother 's Visiting : "Writing to Mother"— "The Monorail." Pic-
tures, drawn by Gertrude A. Kay 296

"Whom the King Delighteth to Honor." (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) . John K. Crce 51

Why the Deacon was Late for Church. Picture, drawn by I. W. Taber 401

Wilson, Woodrow, What He Did for American Foot-ball. (Illustrated by

Oscar F. Schmidt, and from photographs) Parke H. Davis 13

Wireless, Across the Atlantic by. (Illustrated by Otto Rebele, George

Varian, and from photographs) Francis Arnold Collins ... 46

Wizard Shoemaker, The. (Illustrated by Herbert Paus) Winthrop Packard 98

World Disaster, A. Picture, drawn by Charles F. Lester 426

FRONTISPIECES

"The Sisters," from a painting by Lydia Field Emmet, facing page 3 — " Ring a Ring 0' Roses," painted
by Arthur Rackham, facing page 97 — ■" The Man in the Wilderness," painted by Arthur Rackham, facing
page 193 — " Sir Roger de Coverley," from a painting by Fred Morgan, facing page 291 — Portrait of a Child,
from a painting by Lydia Field Emmet, facing page 387 — "Jack and Jill," painted by Arthur Rackham,
facing page 481.

DEPARTMENTS
For Very Little Folk. (Illustrated)

His Birthdays. Verse Isobel Lyndall 80

What Santa Claus Brought. Verse Ida Kenniston 284

What Happened to the Squirrel Family Julia Johnson 361

How Neddy Got a Ride. Verse Katharine M. Daland .... 466

Picking Apples. Verse " 467

The Nicest Place in the World Katharine L. Edgerly 554

Nature and Science. (Illustrated) 72, 174, 269, 364, 458, 556

St. Nicholas League. (Illustrated) 84, 179, 276, 372, 468, 563

Books and Reading. (Illustrated) Hildcgarde Hawthorne ... 92

188, 380, 476, 545

The Letter-Box. (Illustrated) 382, 573

The Riddle-Box. (Illustrated) 95, 191, 287, 383, 479, 574

£J

[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 NOVEMBER, 1912.

Frontispiece. The Sisters. From a painting by Lydia Field Emmet. Page
The Land of Mystery. Serial Story Cleveland Moffett 3

Illustrated by J. Paleologue, and from photographs.

What Woodrow Wilson did for American Foot-ball. Sketch Parke H. Davis 13

Illustrated by Otto F. Schmidt, and from photographs.

A Rhyme of Hallowe'en. Verse George 0. Butler 20

Illustrated by the Author.

Beatrice Of Denewood. Serial Story < Emille Benson Knlpe and ) . 21

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. } Alden Arthur Knlpe )

Trials of Science. Verse C. F. Lester 29

Illustrated by the Author.

A Royal Release. Verse J. G. Francis 30

Illustrated by the Author.

"A Dutch Treat." Story Glulla Hossfeld 31

Illustrated by Otto F. Schmidt.

My Girl. Verse Pauline Frances Camp 36

His Highness the Young Raja. Sketch Mabel Alberta spicer 37

Illustrated from photographs.

How Babe Escaped Polo. Story izola Forrester 43

Illustrated by I. W. Taber.

Across the Atlantic by Wireless. Sketch Francis Arnold Collins 46

Illustrated by George Varian, and from photographs.

" Whom the King Delighteth to Honor." John K. Cree 51

Illustrated by Reginald Birch.

The Marathon. Verse Fred Jacob 52

Illustrated by C. F. Peters.

The Brownies in the Grist-Mill Palmer Cox 56

Illustrated by the Author.

The First Thanksgiving Day. A Play Agnes Miller 61

Illustrated by Otto Rebele.

On Days of Storm. Verse Margaret Johnson 64

" Calling." Picture. Drawn by Gertrude A. Kay 65

" Sheltie "—the Children's Friend Flora Macdonaid 66

Illustrated from photographs

Pumpkin Time. Verse Edith Mallery 70

Illustrated by Theresa Sturm Rogers.

"When I 've Been Bad." Verse Anna May Cooper 71

Illustrated by the Author.

Nature and Science for Young Folks 72

Illustrated.

For Very Little Folk :

His Birthdays Isabel Lyndau 80

Illustrated by the Author.
St. Nicholas League. With Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems,

Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles 84

Illustrated.

Books and Reading Hlldegarde Hawthorne 92

Illustrated.

The Riddle-Box 95

St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 36

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FRANK H. SCOTT, President. —— », ^.^,Tm„^.^, «^ „ . „ — , „ „

WILLIAM W.ELLSWORTH, Vice-President and Secretary. THE CENTURY CO.. UniOn SdUare, NeW York, N. Y.

DONALD SCOTT, Treasurer.

Entered as second-class matter at the Post-Office Department, Canada.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Best of All Christmas1

We've made it early so you can enjoy it the longer

A great story by Baum, who wrote Conquerors who were more than I Ht I
"The Wizard of Oz." Conquerors. fid

Christmas Stories, and Great Distinguished Men Talk with I Hosts
Excitement in The Serials. ST. NICHOLAS Boys. E«

A Fascinating Present

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These boys and girls have hurried up to see what is on the St. Nicholas Bulletin. Presently they will go aw;
and tell their friends about the treats in St. Nicholas, and their friends will ask their parents to subscribe.
IT Do you tell your friends how much you like St. Nicholas?

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Numbers Coming Next

More interesting and more beautiful than any issue you ve seen

than The Great Arthur Rackham's Fine new competitions, verses.
Pictures of Mother Goose. puzzles, and fun.

will Hosts of Other Pictures for Surprising adventures of Billy
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

St. Nicholas Pet Department

Announcements of reliable advertisers only are ac-
cepted. The Department will gladly give advice
to all those interested in pets. Address "PET DEPARTMENT," St. Nicholas, Union Square, New York.

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SHETLAND PONIES

Give your children a pony, the best playmate they
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Sandy Hook Box 58 Connecticut

Established 187S

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Send for Catalogue "R"

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SHETLAND PONIES

of quality. Herd established 1890. Christmas
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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.

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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

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Answers Every Question a
15 Great Departments of

Child Can Ask
Knowledge

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What makes coal burn?
Why has a star five points?
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Natural History

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Men and Women
Our Own Life

Book of Wonder
Famous Books
The Earth

Poetry and Rhymes
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The Book of Knowledge

The Children's Encyclopedia

Simplicity is the Secret. It is a great achievement to arrange the important and essential
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The Most Profitable Investment

We expend time and care in selecting the proper food for the growing body, because we realize that it
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10,000 Wonderful Pictures ! 350 Colored Plates

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country and a hundred other countries, showing the cities, the people and their
customs ; reproductions of beautiful paintings and sculpture ; the picture-story of
important industries; the whole beautiful, wonderful world is before us in nearly ■
io.ooo pictures, which tell a story or illustrate a fact in a way that can never be I
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Read the sample pages carefully. Show
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and, if you are in doubt as to whether there
is need for The Book of Knowledge in your
household, let the children decide.

THE GROLIER SOCIETY
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Please mail me descriptive booklet of The Book of Know-
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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

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Harrison Gray Otis will write
of "The Causes of Andrew
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FRIENDSHIP with The Century
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THE CENTURY'S

will tell the story of those events since the
tors in our national life. The articles are
throughout the country, men who were
picture. This is history of living interest to
Some of the contributors to this series, and

Travel with

through Dalmatia and Greece in the
Hichens's brilliant pen, Jules Guerin's
scenes of this unfamiliar land marvelously

A New Story by Fran-

Do you remember "Little Lord Fauntle-
Garden"? Then you will want to read
who has never grown up. It is to be The
to be called " T. Tembarom." It is a

The Story of

Every one has heard how when governments want
they use a cipher which is a combination of words
secret. Hundreds of years ago, the Greeks sent
over telegraph and cable wires. The November
ious means of secret writing is a fascinating one ;

Is The Century coming regularly into
beautiful and interesting November
any St. Nicholas subscriber. Address:

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Why Go to College

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THE LAND OF MYSTERY

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ST. NICHOLAS

Vol. XL

NOVEMBER, 1912

No. 1

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT

Author of " Careers of Danger and Daring," " Through the Wall," " The Battle," etc.

Chapter I

A HOUSE WITHOUT A WINDOW

Through the purple stillness of the night, in the
strangest spot on earth, a boy of sixteen and his
mother sat on a ledge of grayish brown stone,
watching the August moon as it sank redder and
redder through a bank of early morning mist,
there on the far horizon where the sea of sand
met the sky. This ledge of stone, the lowest step
of the Great Pyramid, was about as high as a
dining-room table, and as long as two city blocks.
It was hewn perfectly flat, top and side, save
where the stone had crumbled. Two or three
feet back of this ledge, rose the second step, ex-
actly like the first, but a little shorter in length.
And back of this rose another step, and then an-
other, scores and scores of steps, tiering away
upward in a huge mass that narrowed and nar-
rowed, until, far up against the velvet stars, it
came to a dull point. This point, higher than the
highest church steeple, was the meeting-place of
the four steep, stone hills of steps that formed the
four faces of this wonderful pyramid.

"Mother, look!" cried the boy, and he pointed
up to a band of opalescent color that had sud-
denly settled, like a flashing jewel, upon the top-
most tip of the world-famous tomb of Cheops.

"Yes, dear," said the woman, softly. "It 's the
dawn. I want you to remember this as long as
you live, Harold. There are n't many American
boys who can say that they have sat at the foot
of the Great Pyramid and watched the moon set
and the sun rise. Look there — toward Cairo !"

She rose and turned to the east, where the deli-
cate pink and purple tints of breaking day formed
an exquisite background to the white domes and
minarets of the distant city.

"Is n't it beautiful ! Is n't it wonderful !" Mrs.
Evans murmured, and her face shone transfig-
ured. It was a face wherein was blended, with a
high-bred American beauty, that strength and
nobility of soul that come through fine, womanly
achievement, and suffering bravely endured.

"Tell you what we ought to do, Mumsy," sug-
gested the boy in a matter-of-fact tone. "If
you '11 let me boost you up a few steps, we '11 get
a corking view of good old Egypt and the good
old river Nile, 'drink her down, down, down.'
Only she looks awfully muddy to drink."

"Harold, have you no reverence ?" sighed the
lady.

"Excuse me, Mother. You see, I 'm so glad to
be off that wobbly steamer. Um-m ! It 's good
to be on solid earth again ! Besides, I never met
a pyramid before." He laid his arm playfully on

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Nov.,

her shoulder. "I never met a pyramid, Mumsy,
at four in the morning, and — no breakfast, and — I
don't know the right line of talk."

Mrs. Evans smiled as she met the gleam in
her son's dancing gray eyes.

"Shall I be heroic? Shall I be the great Na-
poleon? Eh — Mumsy?"

With an agile leap, Harold sprang to the step
above, and struck an attitude.

"You 're a great monkey!" she said; and then,
more seriously, "Sit down, dear. I want to talk
to you."

Harold's quick ear caught the change in his
mother's tone, and he came to her side in half-
alarm, his antics all forgotten.

"What is it, little Mother? Tell me." He took
her slender hand in his, and patted it fondly.
"You seem sort of— sort of strange."

And now, suddenly, began the most momentous
hour in Harold Evans's life, the hour that
changed him, one might say, from a boy to a
man. Some camels with swarthy drivers lurched
across the sandy way, but he barely noticed them.
An Arab boy with harsh cries led a flock of goats
to a well under neighboring palm-trees, but the
young American did not see them. The sun, in .
incredible glory and mystery, crept up over the
parched plain, over the rolling yellow waste of
Sahara, but Harold scarcely turned to marvel, so
absorbed was he in the startling story that his
mother was telling him.

"My son," she began, "I know you have won-
dered why I sent for you to come over here, all
the way from America. I know you did not want
to come. You thought it foolish."

"Not exactly foolish, Mother," put in the boy,
"but, of course, I know we have n't very much
money — that was one of the things Father told
me last year when he took me back to America,
that a missionary doctor did n't exactly abound in
this world's goods, and that I must keep down my
school expenses as much as I could. Besides, I
thought you were coming back to be with me. I
thought you decided that, Mumsy, after Father
— died." He dropped his voice as he spoke the
last word.

"I know, dear, that 's what I wrote you; that 's
what I meant to do, but — there 's something I
have n't told you, Harold, about your father. It 's
not bad news, my boy, it 's good news, blessed
news ; but I could not write it. I dared not, and,
if it 's true, you '11 see why I could not go to
America, and why it was necessary that you
should come here."

Her voice was tense with emotion.

"But, Mother," he said slowly, "I don't under-
stand. How could there be such news now?"

"Oh, but there is, my boy !" the mother cried hap-
pily. "Yes, dear, and I can tell it to no one but you.
We are everything to each other, are n't we? And
this is a big thing to face — such a wonderfully
big thing that — " she paused as if afraid to go on.

The boy stared in half-understanding.

"Mother ! You don't mean— you can't mean — "
'he stammered.

She turned to him with radiant eyes.

"My son, your father is not dead."

"Not dead!" he cried.

Harold's mind flashed back to that morning at
St. Paul's school about a year before;, when the
terrible cable had come, forwarded from Con-
stantinople. His father, his brave father, who
had given his whole life to helping others, had
been killed on his return journey from America,
killed mysteriously in this ancient land of Egypt,
perhaps by fierce tribesmen in the desert. And
now his mother said that this was not true. His
father had not been killed !

"Mother, tell me !" begged the boy. "Tell me
everything."

Then, in low words, she told him, and, as
Harold listened, he bit his lips, and his boyish
frown deepened.

"Let 's go over this again, Mumsy," he said
gently, when she had finished. "Let me tell it. I
want to be sure I 've got it straight."

And briefly Harold reviewed the story of his
father's disappearance and accepted death the
previous August. It was a story that had made
a great stir in the missionary world.

For thirty years, Dr. Wicklow Evans had been
a picturesque figure in that lawless, blood-stained
mountain province of the Turkish sultan known
as Anatolia. He was a good American, yet so
active had he been, and so much had he found to
do in this benighted region, fighting the Asiatic
cholera, teaching the stupid villagers to save their
children from eye disease, and generally letting
his light shine, both as a physician and a man,
that in this long period he made only two journeys
to his native land, the first seventeen years before,
when he had gone home to be married, the second
only the previous summer, when he had returned
to enter Harold in St. Paul's school.

Up to this time (when he was fifteen), all
of Harold's life had been spent in Adana, that
strange Turkish city lost in the Taurus Moun-
tains, five hundred miles east of Constantinople,
five hundred miles west of Bagdad, four hundred
miles north of Jerusalem. Here the boy lived the
free, wild, missionary life, making long horseback
journeys from village to village, sleeping in caves
and mud houses, learning to drive a loaded araba
(a sort of gipsy wagon) across a mountain tor-

1912.]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

library, Umv. «
North ( '%»«*'■«•

rent, down one steep bank and up another, with-
out ever spilling a spoon, learning to fight wild
dogs in the villages, learning to use the sling
native fashion — the real David and Goliath ar-
ticle,—knowing the signs of the wild boar and the

NOW BEGAN THE .MOST MOMENTOUS HOUR IN HAROLD EVANS S LIFE

way of meeting him, picking up the Turkish lan-
guage, and yet remaining an out-and-out Ameri-
can boy whose greatest pleasure, through long
winter evenings, was in reading and re-reading
old copies of American magazines under the cheery
light of a Rochester lamp, while his mother buzzed
a Singer sewing-machine and his father read the
weekly London Times, and while Nasr-ed-Din
chanted dolefully outside the compound walls.

After settling Harold in St. Paul's school, Dr.
Evans had returned by the way of Marseilles, and
had written his wife from Alexandria, saying
that he would stop over a steamer there, so that
he might run up to Cairo and see the Great Pyra-
mid. It had always . been
one of the doctor's ambi-
tions to explore the mys-
teries of Cheops. He said
he would take the following
steamer, three days later,
and proceed to Jaffa, and
then to Alexandretta, the
disembarking port for
Adana.

This good news made
Mrs. Evans so happy that
she immediately set off on
the rough horseback jour-
ney to Alexandretta, and
when the steamer came to
anchor and the little boats
pulled off, there was the
eager wife full of joy at the
thought of seeing her hus-
band again, and giving him
a pleasant surprise.

But, alas, the doctor was
not on board ! Nor did the
next steamer bring him.
Nor did any letter or any
word come from him. In
vain the distracted wife
made effort upon effort. In
vain the American consul
in Cairo, the American
minister in Constantinople,
did what they could. No-
thing availed. No news of
Wicklow Evans was ever
received, and as the weeks
and months passed, it was
generally agreed that this
fearless and admirable man
had perished, in some sinis-
ter way, another victim in
the long list of mysterious
disappearances, so common
in the East, where neither the criminal nor the
motive are ever brought to light.

"That much is clear, is n't it?" resumed Harold.
"You thought Father was dead. You thought so
for months. You went back to Adana to settle
up things before returning to America to be with
me. You were going to leave this forsaken old
land, and — "

"Don't say that, Harold ! It 's the land where

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Nov.,

your father and I have spent the happiest and
most useful years of our lives. It 's the land
where you were born, dear."

"All right, Mumsy. I like the land well enough,
barring some of the people, but the point is, you
suddenly changed your mind and sent for me to
come over here. You would n't tell me why. You
just said come. So I came. And you met me
yesterday at the steamer — say, but I was seasick !
And we took the train up to Cairo. And we
drove straight out to this gorgeous old pyramid.
And now you 've told me this extraordinary thing
— this most extraordinary thing. Why do you
look at me like that, Mumsy?"

Under stress of emotion the boy had been rat-
tling on nervously, while his mother watched him
with sad understanding eyes.

"Take the basket, Harold," she said quietly.
"We '11 go over to those palm-trees where there 's
shade and water, and we '11 feel better for a little
breakfast. Then I '11 tell you more."

They crossed the sand in silence, and when the
mother spoke again it was to ask a blessing on
their simple meal, which was spread on a massive
slab of reddish stone that had once been part of
the tomb of a forgotten king.

"Bless, O Lord, this food to our use, and us to
Thy service" — her voice broke here, and she re-
peated the words with almost rapturous devotion.

When they had finished eating, they rested in
the shade of the waving palms, and again Mrs.
Evans tried to overcome Harold's doubts.

"I know you see nothing in what I 've said, my
son," she began gently. "You think I am de-
ceived."

Harold hesitated before her searching eyes.

"Well, Mother, it seems as though there is so
awfully little to go upon. I mean so little that is
— er — tangible. You think Father is living be-
cause you feel that he is living, but — "

"I knozv he is living !" she breathed. "The truest
things are the things you know. We were so
close together, your father and I, that — it is n't
like America over here — this is a land of mys-
tery."

"But if Father is living, why has n't he sent
word?" interrupted the boy.

"He has n't been able to send word. Have you
forgotten what I told you?"

"I remember everything, Mother. Father had
enemies who wanted to drive him out of Adana,
and they threatened him and threatened you, and,
at last, they saw their chance, and took him, and
now they 're keeping him a prisoner somewhere.
It 's all right as a story, but we 've got nothing to
go upon. We don't know ivho carried Father off,
or where they 've got him, or anything about it."

"We 're going to know something about it very
soon— perhaps to-day," Mrs. Evans said firmly.

"To-day?"

"My boy, we must have faith. If we ask for
guidance, it will be given us. All through this
lonely year, I have asked for guidance, and that
is why we are here, now, at this Great Pyramid."

She spoke as one inspired, and Harold looked
at her in awe-struck wonder.

"You mean that we may find out something
about Father from— from this pyramid?"

"Yes, dear. You know it is the last place your
father visited, and there are more things in the
world than that two and two make four, Harold.
I have never been inside this pyramid, but three
times during the past year, I have seen inside
of it."

"Seen inside of the pyramid ! You mean — in
a dream ?"

"No. It was n't a dream. I don't know what it
was, but I know it was real ; it was true. I saw a
stone chamber with a low ceiling, so low that it
was not much higher than your head."

"I?" exclaimed the boy. "Did you see me in
this stone chamber ?"

"As plainly as I see you now. You were hold-
ing a candle, and were searching for something
near an opening in a wall."

"An opening? What kind of an opening?"

"A small square hole about a foot wide. The
wall was polished, and in the middle of the floor
there was an immense gray stone, shaped like a
trunk, only larger. And on each side of this
stone, there were two other stones of the same
shape, but smaller."

"Five stones like five big trunks !" mused
Harold. "Well, Mumsy, did I find anything—
when you saw me?"

"I don't know, my boy. I only saw you search-
ing."

"And you saw this three times?"

"Three times," she nodded.

"And you know there 's a chamber like that in-
side the Great Pyramid ? Nobody ever told you
so?"

"No."

"You never saw a picture of it ? You never
read about it ?"

"No."

"You just know it 's there?"

"I just know it 's there."

Harold was silent for some moments, his brows
drawn together in tight perplexity. Then he
tapped his foot and pulled at his under lip, and
finally he murmured softly, "By George !" with a
look of astonishment.

"Whatisit,dear ? What is it thatsurprisesyou ?"

I912-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

"Why — er— I happened to remember something
that seems to work in with your two-and-two-
rnake-four idea. Along in June, Mother, before I
got your letter to sail, I went down to Asbury
Park with the boys on a school excursion."

NORTH FACE OF THE GREAT PYRAMID, SHOWING THE ENTRANCE

"Yes, I remember you wrote me about it."

"Well, there was a gipsy camp there, and a
woman with big gold ear-rings told my fortune."

"Yes?"

"She said I was going on a long journey across
water. She got that right, did n't she? And s'.e
said I was going to get an important letter."

"That was my letter."

"No, no, because this was to be a letter written
on stone. The boys laughed at that, for how
could a letter be written on stone?"

"Go on, dear," urged his mother.

"The gipsy woman said I was to find this letter
in a house without a window, where there was a
bed that had never been slept in. Sounds crazy,
does n't it? A house without a window!"

Mrs. Evans thought intently, and then, with a
cry of sudden understanding, "No, it 's true!
Don't you see? The house without a window is —
there!" She pointed to the somber mass of
Cheops. "The bed that has never been slept in

is the sarcophagus in the king's

chamber."

"By George !" repeated Harold,

stirred at last to genuine excitement.

"And the letter written on stone?

What do you make of that, Mumsy ?"
"The letter written on stone is a

message from your father. It 's

waiting for us— there. You must

find it, my boy ; you must find it."

Chapter II

FACING THE DRAGON

Harold Evans— they called him
"Sandy" Evans at St. Paul's school,
where he played short-stop on the
nine — had inherited from his father
a certain practical businesslike qual-
ity that had often served him. "It 's
a sensible kid!" his room-mate used
to say. "No stop-over, but when he
starts, he stays."

And now that Harold (for his
mother's sake) was enlisted in this
pyramid adventure, he proposed to
see it through. If there was only
one chance in a hundred that his
father was alive, that father whom he
had always looked up to as to a wise
elder brother, why, he 'd take the
chance if it brought him up against
the toughest old dragon in Turkey.
His father ! The boy shut his lips,
choking back a gulp, and made ready
to tackle Cheops. Where was this
chamber with the five stone trunks?

"Say, Mumsy, how many rooms are there in the
pyramid? Got any idea?" he asked presently, and,
as she shook her head, he added, "Let 's go to
the hotel and get a guide-book, and talk to the
clerk, and we '11 find out where we 're at."

As they walked along the edge of the desert
toward the Mena House, about five minutes dis-
tant, they caught sight of a trolley-car laden with
tourists speeding along the broad avenue, bordered
with arching acacia-trees, that leads from Cairo.
"It seems like a desecration," sighed Mrs.
Evans, "to have a sputtering trolley-line running
to this sacred spot."

"I don't see that, Mother. The pyramids are n't
any more sacred if you pay five dollars to see 'em

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Nov.,

in a carriage, are they? Hello! that must be
where you go in !"

He pointed to a dark opening near the base of
Cheops where a group of white-robed Arabs were
seated cross-legged on the great stones, two of
which slanted together upward, as if guarding an
entrance underneath.

As they approached the hotel, a grizzled Turk
in red fez, red slippers, and baggy blue trousers
came forward respectfully to meet them.

"Here 's Deeny, Mother. Hello, Deeny ! Sa-
bah hire olsoun I" 1 said the boy, falling naturally
into Turkish, as he saw their old family servant.

"Choke eyi, effendi," 2 answered the Turk,
salaaming three times, from the eyes and the lips
and the heart, as is the custom.

Deeny — his real name was Nasr-ed-Din — had
been an important member of the Evans house-
hold for fifteen years. He had watched over
Harold as a baby, and had accompanied Dr.
Evans on scores of perilous expeditions, acting as
a faithful body-guard.

"I can't make a Christian of him," the doctor
used to say, "and I 've given up trying. I tell him
he 's a Christian without knowing it."

In spite of his sixty years, Nasr-ed-Din was
as strong as a horse. One day he unloaded a
small upright piano that had been brought to
Adana on a squeaking bullock cart, and carried
it into the house on his shoulders. And he stood
there impassively for two or three minutes, with-
out ever thinking of putting his burden down,
while Mrs. Evans decided where the instrument
should be placed.

Nasr-ed-Din had grieved deeply over his mas-
ter's loss, and had refused to leave Mrs. Evans's
service. He would do whatever she wished, go
wherever she said. He would make the beds,
cook the food, wash the clothes, anything except
leave the lady he had served so long. And so he
had stayed and proved himself invaluable.

"Say, Deeny, d' ye know anything about this
pyramid?" questioned Harold. "Ever see it be-
fore ? Ever been inside it ?"

"Yok," 3 said the servant, clucking his tongue,
and lifting his chin in decided negative.

"No? Well, we 've got a job there, you and I,
and I wish you 'd get busy. Have a talk with
those Arabs. Ask 'em if they know about a room
with five stone trunks in it. We 've got to find
it. See?"

After some further explanation, Harold sent
the resourceful Turk off in search of information,
while he addressed himself to the hotel clerk.
Mrs. Evans, meantime, went up-stairs to her
room to write some letters.

1 How are you ? 2 Ve

The hotel clerk, a red-faced Englishman with
an important manner, had never heard of a cham-
ber in the pyramid containing five stone trunks.
He did n't believe there was such a chamber, but
admitted he was not an authority, being too busy.

In the library, Harold found a book about the
Great Pyramid, and studied this diligently for an
hour. It was pretty hard reading. There were
pages of figures and diagrams like geometry.

"Have you found anything?" asked his mother,
when she joined him later.

The boy looked up with flushed face and tum-
bled hair. "Have I found anything? I should
say I have. Listen to this." Then he read from
the page : " 'The length of the earth's polar axis
is assumed by pyramidists to be 500,000,000 pyra-
mid inches, or 7891.41 pyramid miles of 63,360
pyramid inches to the mile, or 7899.30 English
miles.' Now that 's what I call interesting !" he
grinned.

"Harold, what is the use?" his mother began,
but the boy stopped her with a grandiloquent
wave of the hand.

"Madam, I know what you 're going to ask.
You want to know what is the use of this Great
Pyramid. You want to know why it was built.
Madam, I can give you nine answers — all differ-
ent. Listen !" He turned to the index of the
book. " 'It was built as a barrier against desert
sands. As an imitation of Noah's Ark. As
Satan's Seat. As a filtering reservoir. As
Joseph's granary. As a gift of the Queen of
Sheba. As a tomb of the King. As a standard
of weights and measures.' And finally, to please
the ladies. I like the last one, Mumsy," he laughed.

"I wish you would n't trifle, Harold. Did you —
did you learn anything about the— the chamber I
described?" Mrs. Evans asked anxiously.

Harold saw the tenseness of his mother's look,
and answered affectionately, hiding the fact that
he had searched the pages vainly for any mention
of such a chamber.

"Don't you worry, Mumsy. Deeny and I are
going into the pyramid now, and if those five
stone trunks are there — "

"They are there; they must be there!" she in-
sisted.

"Then we '11 find 'em. You can bank on that.
I '11 go right over and see what Deeny 's doing."

He kissed his mother fondly and told her to
cheer up, and said he 'd be back in a couple_ of
hours or so.

"God bless you, my boy !" she whispered, and
there were tears in her eyes as he turned to go.
"I '11 be waiting at the mouth of the pyramid to
meet you when you come out," she added,
ry well, sir. 3 No.

1912.]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

Alas, they little knew how many weary weeks
and months must pass before they would meet
again !

Chapter III

THE THIRD CHAMBER

Ten minutes later, Harold entered the Great
Pyramid, making his way carefully along a pas-
sage about four feet square that
slanted downward at a fairly steep
incline for about sixty feet, and then
slanted up again. Two Arabs, chosen
by Nasr-ed-Din, went before him,
and the Turk came last. Each one
carried a candle, and as the bent pro-
cession moved along, their flaring
shadows danced strangely on the yel-
lowish walls.

"Deeny, what are those fellows
carrying sticks for?" whispered Har-
old.

Nasr-ed-Din gestured that he did
not know.

At the top of the second incline,
the passage straightened out and ran
forward on a level for a hundred
feet or so, where it opened into a
large room, about eighteen feet in
each dimension.

"Queen's chambaire," announced
one of the white-robed guides, hold-
ing his candle high.

"Hello ! you speak English !" said
the boy.

"Yes, sair. Vair good Engleesh.
My name, Saide. Look out, sair."

At this moment, Harold was star-
tled by a whizzing sound, and a num-
ber of small, swiftly moving crea-
tures darted through the candle-light.

"What are they? Birds?" he cried.

"Bats. Turn your back, sair. They I
hit you, or— bite you."

As he spoke, Saide swung his stick
about him vigorously, and moved toward a long,
narrow recess in the wall, shaped like a Gothic
window. It was out of this recess that the bats
seemed to be flying.

"Do bats bite?"

"Peermid bats bite, sair. If he catch your
cheek, peermid bat cut heem out a hole."

Harold asked what this recess in the wall was for.

"Queen's say-coph-gus," answered Saide.

"Oh, I see !" smiled the boy. "And where is
it now, the say-coph-gus?"

Saide expressed the pious opinion that Allah
alone could answer that question.

Harold walked back and forth about this cham-
ber, which was bare and empty, except for clouds
of irritating dust.

The floor was perfectly even, with no sign of
stone trunks.

"Try the next room," he ordered, and the pro-
fession started back along the same level passage.
"Wait ! Let me go first." He pushed ahead with

the zeal of an explorer, and Nasr-ed-Din came
close behind, which was fortunate, for they had
not advanced more than fifty feet along the dark
passage, when a shriek of terror resounded
through the pyramid.

"You black scoundrels ! Let go of me ! Help !
Help!"

Harold sprang forward, and presently came
upon two Arabs who were struggling with a
young tourist, pressing him down, with threaten-
ing gestures, over an opening that yawned like a
well in the floor of the passage.

"Come on, Deeny ! Quick !" shouted the boy.

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Nov.,

Here was a white man in trouble, perhaps a fel-
low-countryman, and, without waiting for further
explanation, Sandy swung on the nearest Arab in
good American style, catching him cleanly on the
jaw, and tumbling him backward in dazed as-
tonishment. Nasr-ed-Din, meantime, had seized
the other Arab by the scruff of his neck, and,
with huge strength, was dangling him over the
black gulf, while the fellow rolled his eyes
piteously and howled for mercy.

"Brakkahyim-mi, cffcndi?" asked the Turk,
turning to Harold, which, being interpreted, is,
"Shall I drop him, sir?"

"No, no ! not drop !" shouted Saide from be-
hind, and explained rapidly that this opening
led straight down into the rock for an immense
distance under the pyramid. The man would be
dashed to death.

But the Turk paid no attention, and still held
his captive at arm's-length, squirming over the
void.

"Brakkahyim-mi , cffcndi?" repeated Nasr-ed-
Din, his eyes flashing.

"Of course we can't drop him," said Harold
to the stranger; "but what shall we do with him?"

"It would serve him jolly well right," said the
latter. He talked about dropping mc, but— oh,
well, let the poor wretch go."

"Koy varsin (Let him go), Deeny," said Har-
old, as he motioned to the Turk, and the terrified
Arab scurried away, muttering.

Then Sandy turned to his new acquaintance.
He was a boy of about seventeen, tall and smartly
dressed, and he had an air about him that made
Harold doubt whether he was American or Eng-
lish.

"I tell you, old chap, I owe you an awful lot,"
began the stranger, awkwardly.

"Glad I happened along," nodded Harold.

"Stopping at the Mena House?"

"Yep."

"So am I. Suppose you 're just starting in?
I 'm just through."

"You mean starting in the pyramid? Yes,"
answered Sandy.

"Rotten place ! They ought to have electric
lights here and an elevator. Why not ? Say, my
name is John McGreggor."

"Mine is Harold Evans."

"I 'm from Chicago."

"I 'm an American, too. Say, you 'd better take
my man Deeny along with you. Oh, yes, I '11 be
all right until he comes back. They won't try to
hold up anybody else to-day. Besides Deeny
picked out these Arabs of mine, and Deeny knows
his business."

"That 's awfully decent of you," said the other

boy. "I '11 send him right back. By-by ! See
you at dinner !" he called, as he drifted away,
candle in hand, through the long, stone passage,
straight as a telescope, that is said to have pointed
exactly to the north star, some six thousand years
ago, when the pyramid was built.

As soon as McGreggor had vanished, Harold
came back to the business in hand.

"Now, then," he turned to Saide, who had
been squatting discreetly beyond the well, "we '11
try the next room."

"Yes. sair. King's chambaire— by Great Gal-
lery."

The Arab sprang forward with nimble bare
feet into another passage, wider than the first
and lofty as a church, that stretched upward in a
steep incline like a strange mountain railway
with a four-foot depressed level between its
stone tracks. At the upper end of this Great
Gallery, was a chapel-like vestibule that led into
the vast chamber where mighty Cheops was laid
to rest in his sarcophagus.

This was the first object that caught Harold's
eye, the scarred and battered red-rock casket that
has stood there, lidless and empty, these many
centuries. Then the boy noticed that the walls
of this king's chamber were defaced with many
names and inscriptions, and he studied these
mural writings eagerly, moving his candle back
and forth ; but he came upon nothing more im-
portant than the foolish scrawlings of tourists
that had passed.

"See jynte," exclaimed Saide, proudly, pointing
to the thin, straight lines, like pencil rulings, that
showed the joining of the huge stone blocks in the
walls, some of them ten feet square. "Very small
jynte. No leetle bit you can put yer finger up."

"Next chamber," directed Harold, briefly.

The guide held out his brown hands, palms up,
and lifted his shoulders apologetically.

"Ees no more chambaire, sair," he replied.

"What?"

"No more chambaire, only—" He hesitated,
then turned and led the way back to the upper
end of the Great Gallery, where, he pointed up-
ward among the dim shadows. There in the
topmost corner of the lofty vault, Harold made
out some wooden cross-bars set across the walls.

"Well?"

"Very hard, sair. Must have ladders, ropes.
Dangeruss !"

"That 's all right. Ah ! Here 's Deeny ! Did
you get him out all right? Good. Deeny, we 're
going up there. You make him get the stuff, and
— hustle. I '11 wait here." This in vigorous
Turkish, which Nasr-ed-Din forthwith translated
into Arabic with fear-compelling gestures.

IJII2.]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

Saide turned pleadingly to Harold. "You
geeve bakshish, sair. You geeve bakshish?"

The extra bakshish being promised, Saide and
Nasr-ed-Din hurried off, leaving Sandy with the
other guide, whose name turned out to be

"HAROLD STOOD STARING LIKE ONE IN A TRANCE

Mahomet. Mahomet explained that they were
now going to climb to the mysterious five cham-
bers that tier above the king's chamber, and are
never visited except in rare cases by some very
venturesome tourist.

In a surprisingly short time, Saide and the
Turk returned, their faces glistening from their
efforts, and their arms filled with coils of rope.

With fascinated interest Harold watched Saide

as the Arab, by some miracle of skill, worked his
way, foot by foot, up the precipitous corner walls
of the Great Gallery with ropes hitched around
his waist and a lighted candle in his teeth.

"Now, sair, your turn," he called, when he
had reached the cross-bars,
and his voice resounded
through the pyramid with
strange reverberations.

If Sandy Evans had been
an archaeologist or an Egyp-
tologist, he would have taken
careful note of the next
hour's exploring. It was a
great experience. First (after
reaching the cross-bars) he
crawled on hands and knees
through a rough horizontal
tunnel, thick with dust, that
led into an upright shaft full
of twittering bats. Up this
shaft he wriggled and pres-
ently came to a jagged hole,
like a fireplace out of a
chimney, that opened into the
first chamber. Then, a yard
or two above this, to another
hole that opened into the
second chamber. And so on.
Before he had gone far,
Sandy Evans was a woeful
sight, streaming with sweat
and smudged with dirt, but
he shut his teeth and pressed
on. He was looking for five
stone trunks.

The first chamber was a
good-sized room but ridicu-
lously low, not over -two feet
high in the lowest part, and
scarcely four in the highest.
The second chamber was
about a foot higher, and the
third chamber was higher
still, so that Sandy could
stand upright in it. In each
of these chambers the ceil-
ings were formed of great
granite blocks, smooth and level, whereas the
floor blocks offered uneven surfaces like rough-
hewn boulders. And in the third chamber — there
was no doubt about it — these boulders took the
form of monster trunks, five of them, ranged
along side by side with narrow spaces between.

As Sandy lifted his candle and made out these
grim gray forms one after another in the gloom,
he gave a little gasp and then stood rigid.

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

"By George! it 's true!" he murmured, swal-
lowing hard. "Mother did see it !"

Then he turned to the wall, and, just opposite
the middle trunk, he discovered a small square
opening. "That 's true, too ! It 's all true !"

Now the boy knew that he was about to find a
message from his father. He knew it. And,
going to the wall with a strange, confident faith,
he examined the polished stone about the small
square opening. There it was ! His father's
handwriting !

To Mary or Harold or Nasr-ed-Din:

You mast go to Jerusalem and find the Greek monk, Basil,
■who has a carpenter shop in the tower of the Church of the
Holy Sepulcher, and ask him to

It ended abruptly with no date and no signa-
ture, but the handwriting was unmistakable.

Harold stood staring like one in a trance. This
incredible thing had happened. His father was
alive and— in his great peril he had tried to write
a message to those who loved him. He had tried
to tell them what to do, but — he must have been
interrupted— perhaps by his enemies— perhaps —

A rush of sickening fears made the boy weak.
He staggered away from the wall, but — it seemed
as if he could not go on. He leaned heavily
against a stone mound and tried to collect him-
self. He must go on. He must hurry back to his
mother with this wonderful news. He must
hurry, but —

The thought of his mother gave Harold new
strength. His mother ! It was her love and trust
that had brought them this great joy. He must
be brave for her. He must think of everything
and — the first thing was to carefully copy down
these precious words of his father. There ! Now
— to start on the downward climb.

A few moments later they were safely back in
the Great Gallery, and two minutes after that, a

( To be con

smudged and perspiring, but radiantly happy,
youth sprang out from the pyramid entrance and
looked about for his mother. She had promised
to be here, waiting for him. Where was she?

"Oh, Mumsy, hoo-oo!"

He gave the familiar call, and listened confi-
dently for the answer. But no answer came.
Queer. She must be about somewhere. Ah, yes,
she had gone over to their breakfast place under
the palms. He strode across the sand, but, no,
she was not there ! Filled with a vague alarm,
the boy hurried back to the hotel. His mother
must have grown tired waiting. Perhaps she had
a headache. Had the clerk seen Mrs. Evans?
The clerk shrugged his shoulders at Sandy's dis-
reputable appearance. No, he had not seen Mrs.
Evans. She went out a couple of hours ago, and
had not returned.

Sandy felt a sudden gripping at the heart. His
mother had not returned. He looked at his watch.
Three o'clock. How the time had passed ! Wait.
Perhaps she had gone to her room, and the
stupid clerk had not seen her. Sandy raced up
the stairs two steps at a time, but he came down
slowly. No, not there. And no little note on the
pincushion. Where could his mother be?

At six o'clock, the boy was still searching. At
nine o'clock, he was still searching. At midnight,
he went to his room, heart-sick and weary. He
had learned nothing. He had found nothing.
No one had seen his mother. No one knew any-
thing about his mother.

Sandy knelt down and tried to say his prayers.
He pulled off his shoes and threw himself on the
bed. And he lay there for a long time, listening
to Nasr-ed-Din, who sat down below in the
purple shadows under the window, crooning one
of. those strange minor chants that, for centuries,
have relieved bruised hearts, in this land of beauty
and mystery and pain.

tin ued. )

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WHAT

WOODROW WILSON

DID FOR

AMERICAN FOOT-BALL

BY PARKE H. DAVIS

Author of "Foot-ball, the American Intercollegiate Game," and
epresentative of Princeton University on the Rules Committee

In Georgia's beautiful city of Augusta, about
forty-five years ago, a young Virginia boy was
attending school. The lad was slightly over ten
years of age, but for his youth was strongly built
and athletic. His hair was black and straight,
and his skin, naturally dark, was deepened in
color by the tan of a vigorous outdoor life in the
southern summers. His countenance was fea-
tured principally by a strong jaw, a sharp pro-
jecting nose, and two distinct eyebrows beneath
which a pair of dark eyes continually snapped
and sparkled with alertness.

If such a figure and face denote unusual mental
and temperamental characteristics, in this lad
these signs did not mislead. He was quick of
wit, full of courage and determination, a trifle
pugnacious, perhaps, but possessing an abundance
of good humor. Inventive, talkative, and fond
of companionship, he easily was the center around
whom the life of that school, both in the class-
room and on the playground, daily revolved.
Who, pray, was this boy? He was Woodrow
Wilson.

Those were the years that immediately fol-
lowed the Civil War. Some may think that it is
a long, long road from war to sport, but it is to
our terrible Civil War that this country owes the
early advent of organized athletics. The soldiers
of the north and south during this conflict found
no happier pastimes with which to while away
the homesickness of camp life than field games
in which a number of men participated in team
play. It was these soldiers of the Civil War that
upon their disbandment carried the new game of
base-ball far and wide throughout the country.
Likewise, the soldiers in camp played foot-ball.
The ball, it is true, was only an inflated beef
bladder obtained from the regimental butcher.
The teams were composed of all comrades who
desired to play, and the game consisted merely in
kicking the ball across a given line. Nevertheless

it was foot-ball, vigorous, pleasurable, and fasci-
nating.

Thus it came about that base-ball and foot-ball
were the two principal games that young Wood-
row Wilson and his companions played in that
Georgia school forty-five years ago. But it is
with foot-ball rather than base-ball that the name
of Woodrow Wilson chiefly will be associated,
for, as player, coach, and councilor, he came in
contact with the intercollegiate game at the three
most critical periods in its history, and so con-
tributed to its development that he fairly is en-
titled to a place among the brilliant fellows who
have wrought out of English Rugby a distinctive
and truly American intercollegiate game.

About 1870, Woodrow Wilson moved to Co-
lumbia, South Carolina, and entered the private
school of Charles H. Barnwell. Here, also, the
boys played base-ball and foot-ball. One of them
had obtained a copy of the rules of the "London
Foot-ball Association." This is the organization
which, in 1863, invented and gave its name to
that style of foot-ball known as the Association
game. The word "soccer," by which this style
of foot-ball also is known, is likewise merely a
humorous derivative from the word Association,
just as rugger is derived from Rugby.

These rules were closely followed by those
school-boys in their play, and although no games
were waged with teams outside of the school,
their struggles were not without influence in
after years upon intercollegiate foot-ball, through
the practical experience they were affording
young Wilson.

In 1873, Woodrow Wilson entered Davidson
College, and promptly won a position upon the
base-ball nine. Foot-ball, at that time, was not
played at Davidson. Indeed, in 1873, foot-ball
was played only at Columbia, Harvard, Prince-
ton, Rutgers, and Yale, and a curious mixture of
foot-ball it was. Harvard had devised a form of

WHAT WOODROW WILSON DID FOR AMERICAN FOOT-BALL

[Nov.,

Rugby that to-day would be deemed grotesque in
the extreme, but it was hugely enjoyed at Cam-
bridge in its time. Yale, likewise, had a peculiar
game of its own which had been adapted from
the Association rules. Columbia, Princeton, and
Rutgers, however, were playing a common game
which they had constructed out of the Association
code, and which required only ten rules— rather
a concise body of foot-ball law in comparison
with the great complex rule book of to-day.

In 1875, Woodrow Wilson, having withdrawn
from Davidson, entered Princeton College, ma-
triculating in the class of 1879. Here the young
Virginian found himself in a fascinating whirl
of athletic life. Intercollegiate base-ball was
raging, with a season in the fall as well as in the
spring. Cricket was competing with it for favor,
and track-athletics, just beginning, like all nov-
elties that are truly meritorious, was sweeping
forward in a tidal wave of popularity. Princeton
also was rowing regularly and well in the great
intercollegiate regatta of that day, a regatta
which was held on Lake Saratoga and frequently
presented as many as twelve competing college
crews. In foot-ball Princeton had been beaten
only once in the first six years of intercollegiate
strife. The style of game was still a form of
Association.

Unfortunately for Woodrow Wilson, a serious
sickness at Davidson had incapacitated him from
playing foot-ball, but he still maintained a mar-
velous ability to talk it. His classmates soon
discovered that, for a freshman, he possessed an
exceptional knowledge of the technic of play,
and that he also was very fertile in ideas for im-
proving the game. At that time, foot-ball at
Princeton was ruled by a council composed of
representatives from the three upper classes,
known as directors. To-day such a board would
be called a coaching committee, but in 1875, tne
word coach had not been applied to sports. In
the course of time, Woodrow Wilson was elected
as a foot-ball director, and the board immediately
recognized his signal ability for the position by
choosing him as their secretary. It is intensely
interesting in this year of 1912, eventful as it is
in the life of Woodrow Wilson, to turn backward
in the old records at Princeton to the days of this
board, and frequently find the name of that young
secretary, "T. W. Wilson, '79," for his name orig-
inally was Thomas Woodrow Wilson. Fame and
choice in after years erased the Thomas, but to
his college mates of thirty-five years ago he is
still familiarly and affectionately known as
"Tommie." Thus Woodrow Wilson was given
an opportunity to become one of the constructors
of the present intercollegiate game at the most

crucial period in its history, — and well indeed
did he take advantage of that opportunity !

For a new style of foot-ball was upon the hori-
zon. In the spring of 1874, McGill University
had sent a team down from Montreal, and shown
a game of real Rugby to Harvard. It was only a
few weeks afterward that the "Harvard Advo-
cate," voicing the college sentiment, editorially
stated: "Rugby foot-ball is in much better favor
than the sleepy game heretofore played by our
men." Accordingly Harvard soon abolished its
"sleepy game," and in its place adopted full
Rugby foot-ball. The following autumn, 1875,
Harvard sent its first foot-ball challenge to Yale,
inviting the Blue to meet the Crimson, or, rather,
the Magenta, which was Harvard's color in 1875.
Yale accepted this challenge, but demanded some
concessions in the Rugby rules. A special code,
therefore, was drafted, which, from these conces-
sions, was known at the time as the "Concession-
ary Rules." Under these rules the first Harvard-
Yale game was played at New Haven, November
13, 1875, Harvard winning by four goals to none.

Among the spectators at this game were two of
Princeton's players, Jotham Potter and W. Earle
Dodge, the latter being a classmate of Woodrow
Wilson. So deeply impressed were these two
men with the Rugby style of play, that, upon their
return to Princeton, they vigorously advocated
the abandonment by Princeton of the Association
game and the adoption of the Rugby rules. Re-
form in sport, however, is not less slow and diffi-
cult than it is in the serious affairs of life. The
proposition of these two pioneers precipitated a
warm controversy at Princeton which raged in-
cessantly for a year. In this battle of debate
between the advocates of the old game and the
new, no one argued more aggressively and effec-
tively than the freshman Woodrow Wilson, and,
strange to say, notwithstanding his breeding in
Association foot-ball, he argued in favor of the
Rugby game. Finally this controversy termin-
ated, November 2, 1876, in a great mass-meeting
at Princeton, at which the Association game was
overthrown and the Rugby game adopted. But
this mass-meeting did more. It issued a call to
Columbia, Harvard, and Yale to meet Princeton
in a convention and form an Intercollegiate
League, with the Rugby rules as a common play-
ing basis. This call was accepted, and thus, in
the old Massasoit House at Springfield, Satur-
day, November 26, 1876, in a session lasting six
hours, this league was formed and the present
intercollegiate game of foot-ball adopted.

During the ensuing winter, the foot-ball men at
Princeton buried themselves deeply in the study
of the new game, and with the inventive char-

igi2.]

WHAT WOODROW WILSON DID FOR AMERICAN FOOT-BALL

acteristics of their elders, young America im-
mediately saw numerous features of the English
game that were open to improvement and reform.
The first of these to engage the attention of the
tacticians was the cumbersome, unsightly "scrum-
mage" which had come in with the English game.
This was the Rugby method of putting the ball
in play. This was done by placing the ball upon
the ground between the two rush-lines, no man

From a recent photograph taken for St. NICHOLAS.
GOVERNOR WILSON AND PARKE H. DAVIS.
Woodrow Wilson was coach of the Princeton Foot-ball Team of
on which Mr. Davis was an end rush.

of which was permitted to touch the ball with his
hand. The players, therefore, in an indiscrimi-
nate struggle, endeavored to work the ball be-
tween them with their feet, where two backs on
each side were waiting to seize it as soon as it
popped out of scrummage. Under such a method
as this, time-honored though it was in English
Rugby> there could be no prearranged team play
for advancing the ball, no use for signals, and
none of the orderly, machine-like formations and

moves that to-day characterize the American
game.

Woodrow Wilson and his associates, studying
the game, soon perceived that a great advantage
would accrue to that team which could devise
some method of team play which regularly would
obtain the ball in scrummage. As a result, a plan
was invented in which the linemen, instead of
acting individually, acted together, blocking off
their opponents with their feet, and
either kicking the ball back themselves
at a designated point, or, by a crafty
feint, tricking their opponents into
kicking the ball through the line for
them. Since Harvard and Yale simul-
taneously were developing the same
idea, and all were foreseeing the great
improvement which could be made in
the English game if one team should
be given possession of the ball by rule
and permitted to snap it back in an
orderly manner, it was not long before
the English scrummage was abolished,
and the far more ingenious American
scrimmage invented and established.
To appreciate the importance of this
great change, one must realize that it
is to the invention of the American
scrimmage that we owe the advent in
foot-ball of prearranged formations,
plays, signals, and other tactical team
play which have given to the American
game its most distinctive characteristic,
making it a veritable game of chess
with live men for the pieces, and con-
verting the sport into a battle of brains
as well as a battle of brawn.

Another problem which at the outset
occupied the attention of Woodrow
Wilson and his fellow tacticians was
the comparative merits of the kicking
and rushing games. When the English
game was first taken over, the English
fondness for kicking the ball was taken
over with it. Accordingly, the ball was
kicked far more often than it was
rushed, and the art of kicking was de-
veloped to a very high degree. Rushers kicked
the ball as well as the backs. The players used
the drop-kick for distance equally with the punt.
Good kickers used either foot, and many a long,
accurate kick was delivered from a ball rolling
and bounding along the ground.

In these days, when rushing the ball comprises
the major offensive tactics of the game, and kick-
ing is only a minor or defensive feature, it is
difficult to realize that there was a period in the

WHAT WOODROW WILSON DID FOR AMERICAN FOOT-BALL

[Nov.,

P. H. Davis, '93. E. A. S. Lewis, '91. J. B. Riggs, '92.

P. C. Jones, '91.

F. M. Dusenberry, '94-

R. Furness, '91.
C. T. Wood, '92.

THE PRINCETON VARSITY FOOT-BALL TEAM OF I

C. C. Jefferson, '92. J. G. Symmes, '92. R. E. Speer, '89.

S. Homans, '92. E. A. Poe, '91. J. N. Thomas, '90. R. H. Warren, '93.

P. King, '93. E. A. Dalton, '91. W. C. Spicer, '91.

history of the game when young collegians like
Woodrow Wilson were waging a warm contro-
versy in councils, on the campus, and in the
college press, in support of the superiority of
rushing over kicking as offensive play. The work
of these pioneers thirty-five years ago may be
appreciated by a perusal of the following extract
from the "Princetonian," as it was printed at the
time of this great foot-ball controversy:

Keeping the ball and working it by passing, running,
and rushing is superior to the kicking game now in vogue.
Kicking, of course, must be resorted to at times, but to
gain by a long punt depends upon the opposite side's fail-
ure to make a fair catch, which now rarely happens, espe-
cially under the new non-interference rule. One thing is
certain : as long as one side can keep the ball the other side
cannot score, and where one team kicks the ball, the other
team is extremely sure to get it.

Incredible as it may seem, almost two years of
incessant argument were necessary before the
kicking tactics subsided and rushing tactics came
to the fore.

Another major feature of foot-ball which
Woodrow Wilson aided in adjustment was the
tactical arrangement of the players. When the

English game was adopted, in 1876, Yale moved
to amend the Rugby rule, which called for fifteen
players upon each side, by substituting the Eton
rule, which limited the players to eleven. Yale's
motion was defeated. Each year, however, the
Blue renewed this proposition, until, in 1879,
Walter Camp, Yale's captain, succeeded in ob-
taining the adoption of the rule. During these
years, however, Yale, in her games with Prince-
ton, had exacted a special rule that eleven men
should constitute a team, and not fifteen. Thus
Princeton, in 1876, 1877, and 1878, played Yale
with eleven men and Harvard with fifteen. In
these early times, and, indeed, for several years
thereafter, the positions of the players were not
fixed as now, nor were the positions named.
"How should the fifteen players be deployed upon
the field against Harvard?" and "How should
eleven players be utilized against Yale?" were
annual problems Princeton's foot-ball council
faced for solution. In 1876, they solved it by
playing against Yale six men on the rush-line,
two at half-back, and three at full-back, the half-
back position then being the same as our quarter-
back position now. The following year against

1012.]

WHAT WOODROW WILSON DID FOR AMERICAN FOOT-BALL

Yale six men again were played on the rush-line,
but three at half-back and two at full-back.
Against Harvard, in the same year, Princeton
used seven men on the line, five at half-back, and
three at full-back. In 1878, we find Princeton
using against Yale seven men on the line, two at
half-back, and two at full-back, while against
Harvard the same arrangement was used as in
the previous year, thus indicating that Woodrow
Wilson and his fellow strategists had discovered,
so far as Princeton was concerned, that the best
number of players for the rush-line was seven.

Woodrow Wilson's foot-ball activi-
ties at Princeton, in these early years
of the game, were not confined, how-
ever, to the council-table. His was
almost a daily figure at field practice.
Coaching, of course, thirty-five years
ago, was not the highly developed art
that it is to-day. The period ante-
dated by fifteen years the professional
coach. Obviously the period even
antedated the coaching by patriotic
alumni veterans, for, in Woodrow
Wilson's time, the intercollegiate
game was in its first three years of
life. Coaching, therefore, was con-
fined to the undergraduates experi-
enced in the old Association game,
and to the members of the foot-ball
council. In this service Woodrow
Wilson frequently took part, correct-
ing, advising, exhorting, admonishing,
and praising, and especially suggest-
ing valuable improvements in indi-
vidual and team technic. And Prince-
ton played fine foot-ball in those
years. Harvard was beaten in the
fall of 1877, and again in 1878. Yale
won from Princeton in 1876, was tied
in 1877, and beaten in 1878. Since
Harvard, Princeton, and Yale at that
time were leagued in the American
Intercollegiate Foot-ball Association, Woodrow
Wilson may look back through his many suc-
cesses in the serious work of life to his senior
year at Princeton, when, as an assistant foot-ball
coach, he materially aided in producing a cham-
pionship foot-ball team.

And now came and went an interval of ten
busy years, in which Woodrow Wilson found no
time to participate actively in foot-ball, but in
which he managed to keep pace with the evolu-
tion of the sport by frequent attendance at the
games. In 1880 and 1881, he was a student in the
law school of the University of Virginia. In
1882 and 1883, he was a practising attorney at
Vol. XL.— 3.

Atlanta, and in 1884 and 1885, we find him again
in college, pursuing a postgraduate course at Johns
Hopkins. During these years, he was at work
upon a wonderful book, "Congressional Govern-
ment," which now was published, and which met
with such great success that it brought to Wood-
row Wilson a number of calls to become a college
professor. One of these calls, from Bryn Mawr,
he accepted, and there he remained until 1888,
when he accepted an election to the chair of his-
tory and political economy at Wesleyan Univer-
sity. This move brought him once more actively

r"TAIN POE KICKING A GOAL IN A GAME BETWEEN

PRINCETON AND COLUMBIA,
ne of the earliest photographs of foot-hall players in action.

into foot-ball, for Wesleyan then, as now, was a
strong competitor upon the gridiron.

Almost ten years had elapsed since his foot-
ball days at Princeton. In this long period, many
profound changes had occurred in the methods of
play, and many equally profound changes in the
rules. The great basic rule of the American
game, the right of one side to possess the ball a
certain number of downs for a minimum gain —
at that time five yards in three downs — had been
invented, thereby further stimulating the study of
offensive tactics. The Intercollegiate Associa-
tion, now augmented by the University of Penn-
sylvania and Wesleyan, at its March meeting in

WHAT WOODROW WILSON DID FOR AMERICAN FOOT-BALL

[Nov.,

1888, had adopted a new rule which permitted
a tackle to be made below the waist and as far
down as the knees. This may appear a slight
change on paper, but it was working a revolution
in the game to its very roots. Under the twelve
years of waist tackling the game always had been
open. The rush-line had deployed widely across
the field, the backs had been played well back and
as far out as their ends, receiving the ball from
the quarter-back on long side passes, and then
beautifully sprinting and dodging in an open
field. Interference had not then been invented,
although its advent was indicated by a method
called "guarding," in which players ran at each
side of the man with the ball, to make tackling
more difficult, but never in advance of the runner,
which, in that day, would have been off side play.
This was the beautiful, brilliant, old-fashioned
"open game" that is recalled so fondly by the
older generation of foot-ball men. But the ex-
tension of tackling from the waist to the knee
instantly swept this style of attack out of exist-
ence. Against the low tackle the lone, open field-
runner was powerless to advance the ball, because
the low tackier, unlike the high tackier, could not
be dodged or shaken off. The rule-makers had
not intended, nor did they foresee, this revolution
when they introduced the low tackle. The chaos
came unexpectedly, but it was complete.

In this crisis, the young professor of history at
Wesleyan volunteered his services as a coach to
the Wesleyan foot-ball men, and his offer was
enthusiastically accepted. Around the council-
table, Woodrow Wilson, with F. D. Beattys and
S. V. Coffin, worked out a new system of offen-
sive tactics. The rush-line was contracted until
the men stood side by side as they do to-day. The
backs were brought closer to the line and sta-
tioned about four yards distant. The quick line
plunge was introduced, the double pass, or "criss-
cross," as it was called first, adopted, and pro-
tection given to the runner on end runs. It is
not to be claimed that Woodrow Wilson and his
associates at Wesleyan were the exclusive in-
ventors of these features which now comprise the
elements of the modern game, for they were
worked out simultaneously at the other colleges
of the association, but they are entitled to be
credited with the honor that both by invention
and adaptation they gave Wesleyan in that diffi-
cult period a foot-ball system without a superior.

Here, again, Woodrow Wilson's coaching ser-
vices did not end at the council-table. Actively
and enthusiastically he applied himself to the task
of daily coaching the team upon the field. Other
coaches, of course, there were, alumni veterans
who appeared from time to time, but it was

Woodrow Wilson and his companions, F. D.
Beattys and S. V. Coffin, who bore the brunt of
that memorable campaign. For 1889 was a mem-
orable foot-ball year at Wesleyan. At that time,
Wesleyan's dearest opponent was the University
of Pennsylvania. The two elevens met in their
annual struggle the morning of Thanksgiving
Day, and Wesleyan emerged the victor.

A factor in this great victory was a new
mechanism of which Wesleyan men claim Wood-
row Wilson was the inventor. This was the
"rotation." The rotation was a varied series of
plays the order of which the players committed
to memory. When Wesleyan came within strik-
ing distance of the Pennsylvania goal, the quar-
ter-back merely clapped his hands, and the rota-
tion was in action. Silently, mysteriously, and
swiftly the Wesleyan plays followed one another,
now at the center, now at the end, and all along
the line. The absence of the usual signals discon-
certed their opponents, and the rapidity of the
plays wrought havoc in the defensive line.

All foot-ball colleges possess a tradition of
some great speech made by a coach just before a
battle or in the intermission of a game. At Wes-
leyan such a tradition still clings around the
memory of Woodrow Wilson. For years Wes-
leyan had been meeting Yale, resigned to the
certainty of defeat and with an ambition limited
merely to making a stout defense and, if possible,
to score. In 1889, Wesleyan once more was about
to play Yale. "Now, fellows," shouted a coach in
final admonition to the team, "let every man play
hard to hold down the score." "No ! No !" cried
Woodrow W'ilson, "let every man play hard and
win the game!" And then for three minutes the
fiery, fighting Wilson poured into those men a
torrent of words that aroused and stung and
enthused, carrying with it such grit, vim, and
determination that little Wesleyan went out
against great Yale like a David against Goliath.
In the ensuing battle Wesleyan was beaten, but it
was one of the best games ever waged by Wes-
leyan against Yale, and though the team went
down to defeat, they went down gloriously, fight-
ing hard every minute and every minute fighting
hard to win.

And now, in the autumn of 1890, Woodrow
Wilson's eventful career brought him once more
to Princeton, where he had been tendered the
chair of jurisprudence and politics. Those were
dark days for foot-ball at Princeton. Graduation
had left only three members of the championship
eleven of 1889. One of these was the captain,
Edgar Allan Poe, now the attorney-general of
Maryland. But if players were scarce, coaches
were scarcer. The period still antedated the com-

1912.]

WHAT WOODROW WILSON DID FOR AMERICAN FOOT-BALL

ing of the organized coaching staff. Old-time
players like Alexander Moffat, Duncan Edwards,
and Tracy H. Harris, famous fellows in their
time, occasionally left their business for an after-
noon and came to Princeton to work with the
team, but the burden of the
coaching was borne by Captain
Poe. It was, therefore, a par-
ticularly welcome sight, one
afternoon in October, to see our
Professor of Jurisprudence
come striding out upon the
field, take his place behind the
eleven with Captain Poe, and
proceed to whip the team up
and down the sward.

Only a few minutes were
necessary to demonstrate that
this new coach was full of
ideas. And ideas were doubly
valuable in 1890. Experiments'
were being made day after
day to find a more effective
method of forcing an opening
in a defensive line, of break-
ing the powerful new device
known as a "box on the
tackle," and especially of
breaking an interference such
as Yale that year was develop-
ing, in which a guard — and
such a guard as W. W. Heffel-
fmger— was leading the backs
on all end runs, whether wide
or short, and whether to the
right or left.

In those days, some coaches
and almost all officials, Eng-
lish fashion, affected a cane
while discharging their duties.
It also was the time in which
the upturned trousers and the
red water-proof shoes first
made their appearance. Thus
it is that Princetonians of 1890 fondly carry a
mental picture of Woodrow Wilson as he ap-
peared to them in his coaching days, clad in a col-
legian's cap, a loose jacket, trousers upturned, and
shod in red leather shoes, swinging his cane, fol-
lowing the eleven up and down in fair weather or
foul, quietly correcting the faults of the players,
firm and stern, but companionable with all.

At the close of the season, his practical know-
ledge of competitive athletics won for him the
important and highly influential post in the
faculty of Chairman of the Committee on Out-
door Sports, a position which carried wi*h it a

strong voice in Princeton's committee, controlling
all matters relating to athletic advancement.
Thus Woodrow Wilson's days as a foot-ball coach
came to an end; but making the most of the op-
portunities in his powerful chairmanship, he

OODROW WILSON AS A FOOT-BALL COACH.

vigorously entered upon a field of larger service
to Princeton's athletics. Under his guidance the
entire system of athletic management was reor-
ganized. The various departments of sport were
brought under a central body of responsible con-
trol. The athletic association was incorporated,
and at once began to improve its athletic grounds,
stands, buildings, and equipment. The financial
managements were consolidated and put upon
a sound business basis. So satisfactory to the
faculty, undergraduates, and alumni was his ad-
ministration as chairman, that he held the post
until he became President of the University.

.A 3\l)?mc of UfalloweVn

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

(A sequel to " The Lucky Sixpence")

BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND
ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE

Chapter I

BART FINDS A HESSIAN IN JUNE, '78

"There now," exclaimed Mrs. Mummer, my
cousin John Travers's housekeeper, as she
straightened up and regarded the huge brass and-
irons with pride. "I 've polished and rubbed
them till my back aches, but it 's worth it, to see
Denewood beginning to look like itself again."

I stepped down from the chair upon which I
had been standing while I gave a finishing touch
to the mirror, and glanced about the great hall
with much pleasure and satisfaction. A week
before, the news of the battle of Monmouth had
reached us, and feeling assured that the British
army had left Philadelphia for good, the entire
household had been busy putting things to rights.
We wanted the place to look particularly fine
against the arrival of its owner, who was ex-
pected back at any time ; and with Mummer, the
steward of the estate, to direct the blacks out-of-
doors, while Mrs. Mummer saw to it that all in-
side the house worked their hardest, we had ac-
complished wonders. Even Polly and Betty
Travers, cousins to Mr. Travers, did their share,
and little Peggy, their sister, wished to sleep with
a duster clutched in her fist.

" 'T is Mummer we have to thank that there is
aught left," Mrs. Mummer went on. " 'T was he
that bade me hide all that was worth stealing."

"How d-did M-M-M-Mummer know the sol-
diers would take them?" stuttered Peggy.

"Was n't Mummer a soldier himself before he
came to the Americas?" demanded Mrs. Mum-
mer, bristling. "He knows soldiers right enough,
does Mummer ; though, in sooth, it was not the
British he was thinking of so much as the Hes-
sians. Their very music says 'plunder ! plunder !
plunder !' in good, plain English. Ah, Miss Bee,
if you had been to town and seen the mess they

've made of it ! I am right glad we are in Ger-
mantown instead of in Philadelphia."

Sam and Tom, two of the black house-servants,
came in bearing the Turkey carpet to cover the
center of the hall floor, and, in a minute, we were
all busy again, pulling the corners this way and
that, till it was settled to our satisfaction.

It was the end of our task. The house was in
order, and we stood regarding it a moment in
silence. "Now it is as it was the first day I came
to Denewood," I said half aloud, for, in truth, I
was thinking rather than talking.

"A lucky day for the house that !" declared
Mrs. Mummer. "Ah, Miss Beatrice, how well I
remember it ! For weeks we had been waiting for
a sight of the boy who was to come over from
England, and la ! the boy turned out to be a girl.
'You have only to know her to love her,' says
Master John, and 't was a true word he spoke."

"And that was only two years ago," I said, my
thoughts dwelling on the past; "only two years —
and yet it seems as if I 'd been here always."

"True enough," agreed Mrs. Mummer, "but
such long years they 've been ! What with sol-
diers coming and going, and Master John hurt,
and the battle of Germantown right over our
heads, 't was no very pleasant welcome to a new
land for a little maid ; but let us pray that the
war is ended, as they say. Are you never wish-
ful to be back in England, Miss Bee?" she added,
with a note of anxiety in her voice.

"Never ! never ! never !" I cried, putting my
arms about her, for Mrs. Mummer was like a
mother to me. "Denewood is my home, and I
want no other."

"Praise be for that !" answered the old house-
keeper, heartily. "Mummer has said a dozen
times that, although you and Master John but
call each other brother and sister, and are, in
truth, only distant cousins, no real brother and

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

sister could be closer the one to the other. 'T is
a misfortune that so young a man should lack
near kin, for 'blood is thicker than water,' Mum-
mer says, and while he and I did our best, we
were only plodding old servants, after all. So,
though you were but a slip of a maid of twelve
years when you came to us, you brought the sun-
shine we needed to make a home of Denewood.
You are the luck of the house, my dear. 'T is
good to know you have no longing to go back to
England."

' 'T would be most ungrateful if I had, seeing
all that Brother John has done for me," I re-
plied.

"Nay now," she answered, bristling a little,
"the shoe is on the other foot, I 'm thinking; for,
without you and your lucky sixpence, Denewood
would be ashes this day; so a truce to all this
talk of gratitude 'twixt you and Master John."

It was all very well for Mrs. Mummer to thus
dismiss the question of obligation between Cousin
John Travers and myself, and such a thought
would never enter his head either, but neverthe-
less all in that house were his guests, and I, in
particular, owed him more than ever I could pay.
Polly, Betty, and Peg were cousins also, whose
home was across the Delaware River in Haddon-
field, but when the British entered the Jerseys,
their father, who was with our Continentals,
thought it safer for them in Germantown, and
Brother John had given them a home and a warm
welcome until the war should end.

With me the matter was somewhat different.
As Mrs. Mummer had said, I was but a distant
cousin, and belonged to the English Travers, hav-
ing small claim upon Brother John's generosity ;
yet when, two years before, Granny, from lack of
money to keep my two brothers and myself, was
forced to send me to the Americas, John Travers
had adopted me for a sister, and placed me at
the head of his household while he was off serving
with Washington's army. Mrs. Mummer might
say there should be no talk of gratitude between
us, but I could not forget the kindness with which
he had welcomed a forlorn little maid, and my
heart overflowed with thankfulness in that I had
found so true a friend.

Some such thoughts as these were passing
through my mind, when they were interrupted
by a shout from Peg, who was standing by the
window.

"They 've c-c-come ! They 've c-c-come !" she
cried, and we heard the sound of horses' hoofs
beating the ground outside.

Goodness ! what a clatter we made as we has-
tened to welcome the new arrivals. Polly and
Betty came down the* stairs in quite a rush, for

them. Little Peg ran to hide her duster, and Mrs.
Mummer and I took one last glance about to see
that all was as it should be before we hurried to
the front door. Outside, with cries of joy, the
stable-boys scampered up to take the horses, and
Mummer himself, with three or four of the farm-
hands, appeared to give the master a welcome.

Two horsemen came galloping up the long
driveway. In front, Cousin John Travers, on a
strong chestnut mare, and a little behind him,
Bart Travers, brother to Polly, Betty, and Peg,
putting his beast through its capers and showing
off grandly before us all ; for Bart was but a few
months older than I, though he had run off to
the war. Along they came at a smart pace,
pulled up to a standstill, and, in another minute,
John had dismounted, and I was in his arms.

"Oh, Brother !" I cried, " 't is fine to have you
home again !"

"And 't is fine to be home, little sister !" he
answered, kissing me and giving me a loving pat
on the shoulder.

Meanwhile, Peggy had run to Bart, and the air
was full of cries of welcome and questions flying
back and forth as to how all fared.

Presently we all moved to enter the house, and,
as Brother John reached the threshold, he stopped
amazed. Then turning to Mrs. Mummer, he
shook a finger at her.

" 'T is magic !" he cried. " 'T is well for you
we are past the age of such superstitions, for
otherwise you were liked to be burned for a
witch."

"Nay then, we should need a huge fire, for all
of us have had a hand in this magic, though 't is
Miss Bee who kept us slaving till it was fin-
ished," replied Mrs. Mummer, with a laugh.

"But how have you done it?" he went on, his
glance roving about the hall and lighting up as
he noted, one after another, "the old familiar ob-
jects of furniture and ornament that had been
hidden away from sight so that they might not
tempt the Hessian soldiers. "There are the little
Dresden figures on the mantel-shelf just as they
used to be, and there is the old clock, and— and
the Turkey carpet ! In truth, I never hoped to
see all these things again, for I have passed
places to-day where there was scarce one article
of household use left to the owners."

"For that you must thank Miss Bee and her
lucky sixpence," said Mrs. Mummer, nodding at
me.

"Aye, we '11 never forget that !" answered
Brother John, warmly. "T is when I see how
others have suffered that I realize our good for-
tune. The country about us is in sad case."

"Aye," cried Bart, striding about, with his

'"OH, BROTHER!' I CRIED, "T IS FINE TO HAVE YOU HOME AGAIN!

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Nov.,

'I KNOW WHERE THERE 'S A PIRATE'S TREASURE!' HE WHISPERED." (SEE PAGE 2&.\

great sword clanking as he moved. "This is all
very well, but 't is the dining-room and its fur-
nishings I 'm most interested in. I 'm fair starved,
Mrs. Mummer, and that 's the truth."

' 'T is but a poor meal I can give you," said
Mrs. Mummer, amid the laughter that followed
Bart's sally; "but such as it is, you have only to
sit down, for all is ready."

"Aye, I know your poor meals !" cried Brother
John, as we went into the dining-room. "I shall
let out my belt two holes at least in anticipation."

And so, gaily and happily, we sat down to eat
the first dinner we had all had together in pea^e
and quiet for many a long day.

When the excitement had worn off a little, we
began to ask questions of how our friends in the
Continental army fared, and little Peg wanted
particularly to have news of Allan McLane, who
was captain of the troop of cavalry in which
John served, and a great favorite with us all.
Then we asked for His Excellency, General
Washington, and the Marquis de Lafayette, news
of whom made Polly and Betty prick up their
ears, and for a host of others who, at one time
or another, had stayed at Denewood during the
dreadful winter just passed, when the army was
freezing at Valley Forge, and the British under
General Howe were quartered in Philadelphia.

"I s-s-say, B-B-Bart," piped Peggy, in one of
the pauses in the talk, "w-w-what w-will you d-d-
do with your s-s-sword, now that the B-B-British
have g-g-gone and the war is over?"

"Ah, but it is n't over," answered Bart.

"Not over?" I echoed in consternation, looking
at Brother John. "Has n't the war ended?"

"Nay, Bee," he answered, "not yet, nor for
many a long day, I fear."

"But every one, says the British are going
home," I insisted ; for it was generally believed
that the evacuation of Philadelphia was the be-
ginning of the end.

"The wish is father to the thought to those
who have spread that rumor," answered Brother
John. "The British will scarce try their luck
again in Philadelphia ; but, for all that, the war
is far from ended. General Clinton in New York
has but changed his base."

"Should he do that often, he will have no army
left," Bart put in with a chuckle. "His expen-
sive Hessians are still straggling over the Jerseys
to join us — and did n't we give them fits at Mon-
mouth !"

Later, the dinner being finished, Mummer
thrust his long, solemn face within the room and
begged that John would go over the estate with
him, so that he might make ready his plans for

igi2.]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

the repair of the damage wrought by the sol-
diers. There was a new stable to be built, miles
of fences to be put up to replace those burned for
fuel, and many other things were needed ; for,
outside, the place had not escaped so fortunately
as the mansion itself.

Brother John went off with him, leaving us still
at the table, where we at once began to ply Bart
with questions as to his doings with the Conti-
nental army.

"Nay," cried Polly, with a toss of her head,
"I do not care to hear of Bart's bloody deeds.
'T is scarce fitting for the ears of a sensitive fe-
male," and she got up and quitted the room, fol-
lowed by Betty, for the two always acted in con-
cert. Truth to tell, Polly, who was a few years
older than the rest of us, put on such grown-up
airs that we were often glad to be rid of her;
for she and Betty seemed interested only in the
fashions, and talked of beaus and balls' as if
naught else in the world was of any consequence.

"A good riddance," said Bart, as they disap-
peared ; "but I think their ears would not be so
'sensitive' if the news was of British victories.
They are naught but silly Tories."

"And were you at Monmouth, Bart?" I asked,
for it seemed scarce credible that a boy should
have taken part in so bloody a battle as that one
was rumored to have been.

"Aye, that I was, Bee," he answered proudly.
"I think Father did n't like the notion altogether,
but I told him I would run away alone again, so
he let me go with him."

"And are you a p-p-private, Bart?" asked Peg,
a little breathlessly.

"Nay, I 'm not a private," he replied.

"Then you must be an officer," I said.

"Nay, I 'm not an officer either— though I mean

.to have a commission soon," he went on. "I 'm

just a sort of aid to Father, and though some of

the officers laugh at me, I have all the fun of

fighting just the same."

"T-tell us about the b-b-b-battle, B-Bart," Peg
demanded excitedly.

"Well," Bart began, "we were with General
Wayne— 'Wayne the Drover/ the army called
him at Valley Forge because, when worst came
to worst, and we were near to starving, he always
went off somewhere and brought in a herd of cat-
tle to feed us. His- own men called him 'Mad
Anthony' because he loves to. fight and stops at
nothing; but his whole command is mad, as far
as that goes. Now as I said, we were with Wayne
—but let me show you how it was."

"Yes do, Bart," I entreated, and Peggy and I
leaned half across the table as he told his eager
listeners the story of the battle of Monmouth.
Vol. XL.— 4.

"Now this plum-cake platter is Monmouth
Court-house," he began, arranging the things be-
fore him to represent the two armies and their
positions. "And the fold in the table-cloth we '11
call the road leading to Sandy Hook where Clin-
ton wanted to get, way up by this coffee-cup. We
were about here," and he placed an apricot to
mark the place. "Over there, where the sauce-
boat stands, was Knyphausen protecting Clin-
ton's eight miles of baggage-wagons— which we
should have captured had it not been for Charles
Lee, the traitor !"

"G-g-go on, B-B-Bart !" cried Peggy, her chin
in her hands, gazing down intently, and hardly
able to keep still. "G-g-go on with the f-f-fight-
ing."

"Don't be so impatient," Bart admonished,
placing a salt-cellar near the fold marking the
road. "This is where Lafayette and Greene were
stationed, and 'way back here, by this bowl, was
Washington with the main army."

He stopped, regarding his funny diagram criti-
cally and with a most serious air.

"Now, right in here, the road narrowed down
between a wide swamp on each side, which we il
mark with this saucer and the fruit-dish, and just
'where I put this knife was a bridge. Don't for-
get that, because it 's important. And on this
spot where the spoon is, was a big tree, and that 's
important, too, as you '11 see later on.

"Well, early in the morning, we had orders to
attack, and off we went, crossing the bridge be-
tween the saucer and the fruit-dish, as gay as
could be, all of us anxious to fight the redcoats,
though it was hot, even before the sun was well
up. We sighted them, and were just about to
attack when along comes a message from Lee
to withdraw. Wayne was in a rage, but he could
n't do anything else, so back we went without a
blow. Then along comes another order to make
a feint, and we go off again, only to be with-
drawn once more, till we did n't know what was
happening, and the men thought some one was
going crazy— and I tell you General Wayne was
near crazy ; but that was because Lee would n't
let him fight."

"Why did n't he fight anyhow?" I demanded.

"Oh, he could n't, you know," Bart explained.
"Lee was in command of the whole force, and
Wayne had to do as he was ordered, whether he
liked it or not."

"I would have f-f-fighted !" declared Peggy,
• positively.

"Pretty soon we had to fight," her brother
went on, "for the first thing we knew, the Brit-
ish came running across the knife there — I mean
the bridge— and were attacking us, instead of

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Nov.,

our attacking them— and that 's a very different
matter, let me tell you ! The redcoats came with
a rush, and our fellows, not knowing what to do,
and bewildered by such contrary orders, were
taken by surprise, and— and they ran. Yes, they
ran, though I hate to say it. I was with Father,
who, with Stewart and Ramsay, was trying to
rally them. Down the fold we went and came
up with Lee, who was sitting his horse like a
spectator, doing nothing, and I thought it was all
up with us — when along came a man on horse-
back, riding like the wind. Oh, you should have
seen him, and heard the shouts that went up
when we knew that it was His Excellency, Gen-
eral Washington ! He is a man !" exclaimed
Bart, his voice rising in his excitement, and
Peggy and I gave a little cheer as if we had been
there ourselves.

"'What 's the meaning of this?' cried Wash-
ington, as he reined up beside Lee," Bart con-
tinued. "And Lee mumbled something in an-
swer. Then the general just told him what he
thought of him. 'You 're a poltroon, sir !' he
shouted, and more of the same sort of talk, while
Lee got red in the face, but could n't stand that
storm. Oh, the general was fine and angry ! And
had I been in Lee's place, I should have died of'
shame. As it was, he went off to the rear, and
Washington took command of us. It was mighty
different then. The redcoats were running across
that knife, bent on mischief, and meaning to
drive us back to the bowl ; but we rallied in the
face of them, and the general, with his sword
lifted high above his head and greatly exposing
himself, led us at them, and, before we knew it,
they were driven back between the saucer and
the fruit-dish, and then across the knife into the
sauce-boat, where Knyphausen was.

"I tell you, Bee !" cried Bart, firing up at the
thought, "it was almost worth while to have re-
treated, to have seen what one man could do.
There was swamp on each side of the road, and
eight thousand British were chasing us, but
Washington re-formed two of our regiments,
under fire, and that gave time to plant the troops
he had brought up with him on good ground.
But it was a close thing— so close that Alexander
Hamilton said his only thought was to die on the
spot, and even Laurens hoped for no more than
an orderly retreat. But General Washington-
well, for all his calm ways, he is as mad as
Wayne himself when it comes to fighting, and,
when he leads, the men will follow, caring naught
what happens to them."

Bart stopped out of breath.

"And you b-b-beat them, B-B-Bart?" asked
Peggy, excitedly. "You b-beat them at last?"

"Aye, we beat them !" Bart continued. "They
made a stand at the sauce-boat, but only for a
little while, and still we drove them on. All day
we fought, and, when at last night came, they
were ready to cry quits. 'T was only the dark-
ness that saved Clinton's whole army, for we
found them gone the next morning. If Lee had
n't played the traitor, they would never have
reached the coffee-cup— I mean Sandy Hook, of
course. Oh, it was splendid, but very hot !"

"B-b-but, B-Bart," Peggy broke in, after a mo-
ment's pause, "you have n't told us about the
spoon that 's a t-t-tree."

"Hush!" murmured Bart, warningly; "that 's
where I found my Hessian." And he looked
about the room to see if any one were within
hearing.

"Your Hessian," I echoed, not knowing what
he meant.

"It 's a secret," he answered. "Let 's go out
somewhere under the trees where we '11 be alone.
Listen !"

He leaned across the table, and we three put
our heads together.

"I know where there 's a pirate's treasure !" he
whispered.

Chapter II

PIRATE GOLD

Bart was so mysterious that, without another
word, we all three went out-of-doors on tiptoe, as
if we feared to make a noise. We scampered
through the orchard near the house and into the
woods bordering it, and were soon hidden among
the trees, certain that no one would hear our
secrets there:

"This will do," said Bart, seating himself at
the foot of a huge chestnut, and Peggy and I
dropped down beside him.

"Hurry and t-t-tell us, B-Bart !" cried his sis-
ter, impatiently. "I 1-1-love m-m-mysteries."

"This is no joke," replied Bart, very seriously,
"and I misdoubt I have made a mistake in letting
you know anything about it. It popped out with-
out my thinking."

"Oh, you need n't worry about Peggy, Bart," I
hastened to put in. "She can be as secret as
any one. She 's proved that."

"B-b-besides, you c-c-coul3 n't keep it from me
a-a-anyway," said Miss Peggy, with a toss of her
head. "I always know."

"Remember then, not a word of this to a soul,"
insisted Bart, and it was plain from his manner
that, whatever he had to tell us, he attached
much importance to it. "I don't want any one
else to get-hold of it, least of all Polly and Betty.

"To begin with," Bart said, "we found that

igia.]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

Clinton had gone off, leaving behind his dead and
wounded for us to care for, and I was sent out
with some others to look for the injured. Now,
as I was returning to headquarters, along in the
afternoon, I was passing that tree that I marked
with a spoon on the table, when I heard a great
groan. At first I saw nothing, but, upon going
around the trunk, I found a Hessian soldier
propped up against it. He had a bullet in his leg,
and he thought he was going to die right then
and there. When he saw me, he began to chat-
ter in broken English, begging me not to scalp
him."

. "What nonsense !" I cried, "as if we were
Indians !"

"Oh, he believed it," Bart explained. "He
had been told tales of torture, and I know not
what else about us all. The British had to do
something, for you know the Hessians have been
offered grants of land if they desert, and scores
of them have been coming in with their pots and
kettles and wives all ready to set 'up housekeep-
ing. 'T was no easy matter to get word to them
until Doctor Franklin hit upon the plan of hav-
ing the offer printed in German and stowed in
packages of strong tobacco such as soldiers
smoke. But to go back to Hans Kalbfieisch, my
wounded Hessian. He was dreadfully fright-
ened, but I got him into camp, and the surgeons
cut off his leg, so he was about as well as ever."

"That 's n-no m-m-mystery !" Peg broke in,
disgustedly, as Bart paused for breath.

"Nay, now, do not be so impatient !" retorted
Bart. "I 'm coming to that in good time. When
Hans was a little recovered from his hurt, and
found that he was not to be massacred, he was
monstrous grateful to me, and now and then, when
I had nothing else to do, I would stop and talk
to him, for he was a decent sort of chap, though
he was a Hessian. Well, one day when we were
alone, he asked me, in his funny, broken Eng-
lish, if I knew old Schmuck, the Magus in Phila-
delphia. You 've heard of old Schmuck, have n't
you, Bee?"

"Never," I answered, "and I have n't the faint-
est idea what a Magus is."

"Well, a Magus," Bart explained, "is named
from an old-time word meaning a 'wise man,' or
wizard, or enchanter. Nowadays, he is a sort of
diviner— a fellow who finds things that are hidden
under the ground, like treasure; but mostly they
search for springs of water."

"How do they do it?" I asked, much puzzled.

"With a hazel wand, usually," Bart answered,
"though some use a peach branch. Oh, 't is true
they can tell, Bee !" he insisted, no doubt seeing
my look of incredulity. "All the farmers have a

Magus pick out the spot when they want to dig a
well. He takes the hazel twig" between the palms
of his hands and walks slowly over the land till
it bends down to the ground, and that is the spot
to dig, whether it be for treasure or only water."

" 'T is very funny," I said, "but go on with
your Hessian ; he 's interesting."

"I told him I had heard of old Schmuck," Bart
continued, "and expected he would say some-
thing more about him, but he turned the conver-
sation to the country about Philadelphia, and
asked me did I know of Wissahickon Creek. I
told him I did, and he said he had a friend who
had camped there for a while, and that he him-
self had hoped to visit it, but that now he feared
he would never see the place. It was plain that
Hans had something on his mind which he
wanted, and yet did n't want, to tell me. But at
length, after he was convinced that it was use-
less to think of going there himself, he took me
into his confidence."

"N-n-now it 's c-c-coming," whispered Peggy,
wriggling with expectation.

"Mind you," Bart continued, "this did n't hap-
pen all in a minute. It was maybe a day or two
later that, after looking about to see that no one
was within hearing, he drew me close to him and
whispered:

" 'I have dreamed a dream three times, and to
dream three times is sure.'

"What have you dreamed?' I asked him,
though I did n't feel much interested.

" ' 'T is a dream of hidden gold and silver, and
much other wealth,' he answered, his eyes gleam-
ing covetously as he talked, and his excitement
growing, so that I understood less than half of
what he said."

Bart paused a moment, looking about to see
that no one could overhear.

"Why did the Hessian tell you about a dream ?"
I asked, with increasing interest.

"Now you are just as impatient as Peg,"
laughed Bart; "but to tell the truth, Bee, that 's
the very question I asked Hans, and then out
came the whole of his plan. He wanted me to
hunt for the treasure he had seen in his dream."

"But— but— " I began.

"Hold on," Bart interrupted, "let me tell you
just how it was. At first I laughed at what he
called his dream, but he was so earnest that
finally I really became convinced that, in some
way, he knew of a hidden treasure, and I con-
sented to make a search for it.

" "T is hid,' he told me, 'half-way between the
tree blazed with the skull, where 't was buried by
the crooked man with one eye.' "

"Oh-o-o-oh," came in a long drawl from Peg,

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Nov.,

"the c-c-crooked man with one e-eye ! It s-s-
sounds awful !"

"But half-way between the tree and what?" I
asked, noting that the description was not com-
plete.

"That was what I wanted to know," Bart went
on, "and Hans said old Schmuck, the Magus,
could find the spot when I told him it was on the
right bank of the Wissahickon, north of the Rit-
tenhouse Mill road, and buried between the
blazed tree and— something ! 'T is well known
that Kidd and Blackbeard came up our rivers
with their gold, and like as not Hans's treasure is
some such plunder."

"Nay, Bart, 't is a silly story," I said with a
laugh. "Your Hessian was quizzing you."

"Aye, Bee, that was my very thought," agreed
Bart, earnestly, by no means abashed at my
doubt. "But when I laughed, and told Hans I
would have none of his dreams, he was fair be-
side himself, and begged that I, at least, tell
Schmuck. He protested that he wanted me to
share the gold out of gratitude for my having
saved him, and a lot more such talk, which I
had no great faith in, for the end was always
the same. 'Tell Schmuck. Tell the Magus,' was
his plea, until I grew sure that there was a hid-
den treasure. T is plain Hans would never have
told me a word of it had he been fit to go him-
self; but, seeing no other way, he was forced to
take some one into his confidence— and now I
mean to find it."

"And what is he to get out of it, if you do
find anything?" I asked, becoming as convinced
as Bart that there was something more in this
tale than appeared on the surface.

"Oh, he wanted half, of course," Bart said
easily, "but I told him flat that I would not take
all the risk and all the trouble for so small a
share. 'T was not for myself I bargained, but for
the cause. He grumbled mightily, but finally con-
sented to leave the matter to me so long as I
would tell the Magus as quickly as possible."

"I can see no such need of haste if 't was a
dream he dreamed," I suggested.

"He insisted it was a dream to the very last,"
Bart replied. "But he gave me a sly wink, and
said that others might dream too, and that there
was no time to lose. I don't believe all he told
me, but I 'm sure he knows of a hidden treasure.
He hints that it is a pirate's hoard, and I mean
to have a look for it. Pirate gold belongs to him
who finds it, and I have no mind to see it in the
hands of some Tory or moderate, when the cause
stands in need of money."

"Did Hans say that he had known the Magus?"
I questioned. "He must have known him,— eh?"

"No, he protested that he had never seen him,"
Bart explained; "and I think he was telling the
truth, though of course I can't be sure."

"What do you mean to do?" I inquired.

"To go with old Schmuck, and seek the trea-
sure, taking some one with me to help me guard
and carry it here, where it will be safe until I find
a way to transport it to His Excellency," Bart
answered succinctly.

"Who will you get to go with you?" I asked.
"John or Allan McLane will be best."

At this I fancied Bart looked a little embar-
rassed, but when he spoke it was quke frankly.

"Nay, Bee, I '11 be honest with you," he said. ,
"If Jack or Captain McLane go, they are my
superior officers, and I get no credit out of the
affair. General Washington needs money even
more than he needs men, and I am hot for my
commission, so if I find the treasure by myself,
I '11 get it, you '11 see, even despite my years."

"Then whom can you ask to help you?" I de-
manded, puzzled, and Bart looked straight in my
eyes, and said :

"You, Bee !"

"T-t-to be s-s-sure," agreed Peggy, in the most
matter-of-fact way ; "and I '11 h-h-help, too."

"No, no!" said Bart, impatiently, "don't get
that into your head. You could n't be of any
use."

"I c-c-could s-s-so !" Peggy was very indig-
nant. "I c-c-could k-k-keep watch and t-tell you
if any one was c-c-coming."

Whereat we had to smile, to the little lady's
great disgust.

"But will you go, Bee?" Bart was all eagerness
and not to be diverted. "You 'd like to do some-
thing for the cause, would n't you?"

"What are your plans?" I asked cautiously.

"Well, I shall see Schmuck first," Bart began ;
but I interrupted.

"Can't you get along without this Schmuck?"

"No, I cannot," answered Bart. "If I could
I would, willingly enough ; but 't is impossible for
me to dig up the ground for a mile, maybe, around
the blazed tree. The treasure may lie near or it
may not be within a hundred yards. That 's
what the Magus must determine, and 't is on that
account I am forced to take him."

"But you need n't tell him all you know," I in-
sisted, full of a vague distrust. "Only enough to
get him interested, without saying just where the
spot is."

"Exactly," agreed Bart. "All I '11 say is that
the treasure is on the right bank of the Wissa-
hickon, and that he must find the place, though
my Hessian told me twice to be sure to tell him
about the blazed tree and the crooked man,"

igi2.]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

"And then what ?" I asked.

"Then we '11 agree upon a night—"

"Night!" I exclaimed. "Must we go at night?"

"Why, of course, Bee," he replied, surprised
at my question. "Who ever heard of hunting
treasure in the daytime?"

"To be sure, that 's true," I answered, admit-
ting the force of this argument. "But Mrs. Mum-
mer would never let me go."

"There 's my m-m-mouse's h-h-hole," sug-
gested Peg, crossly ; wyou can g-g-go by that if
you w-w-want to."

■"What 's that ?" Bart was curious.

" 'T is a queer passageway she found, down
through the nursery chimney and out by the
spring-house," I explained.

"Allan McLane w-w-went out b-b-by it once,
and he was s-s-so big that he n-n-nearly s-s-
stuck," Peg remarked, good-humored once more.
Her little tempers were only surface tantrums and
never endured for long.

"So you can go, Bee, if you only will,"' Bart
pleaded.

"But of what use can I be to you?" I asked.'

"You could help with the gold," he replied,
"and watch and see that old Schmuck did n't
bash me over the head when my back was turned.
You could carry a pistol, could n't you?"

"Aye, I could carry a pistol," I said a little
doubtfully, "but 't would be better to take one of
the black boys along."

"Nay, they would be frightened out of their
wits," Bart protested.

"Not Charley," I insisted. "Moreover, he is
strong and could help with the. digging. Please
take Charley," I ended pleadingly.

"Will you go if I do?" he questioned eagerly,
and I nodded in agreement.

And so, swept off my feet by my wish to help
Bart, by my desire to aid the cause, and not a
little influenced, if it must be confessed, by the
thought of the adventure itself, I found myself
committed to the expedition. It is passing strange
how matters turn out, and a wiser head than
mine could not have foreseen how much de-
pended on my answer to his pleading ; but had I
refused to go, I might have been spared many,
many weeks of anxiety.

(To be continued.)

When an apple fell

And hit
Sir Isaac Newton

On the head,
He discovered then

The law
Of gravitation !

So I 've read.

But / 've sat here

Two hours, now,
Watching, till I 'm

Late for tea,
And that obstinate

Old apple
Simply will not fall

On me.

C-lio C3X2CC-0 lCtra<g Cox.t.LcL xz<Zy\\:\t<^y Snttle. nor- cLcxn.ce,
X_itfe^ JaeAcL j^im Lit o. £t.x£'<=L. o-orzcL fornzal trcxiac-e,,
UlrzLLl orie- clo.-^ tlrze- Ol^e-e^fTju. Ccits
CJX']ope'Ccir,C'cL o-L Co-uxirL i-n, "wondroixs T^o-ts

v — riis loT.c.bvtr'e, "bells bl-2-c r*csl~ of tJxis X\piaici.i-zce^.

i^**6*-

"A DUTCH TREAT

BY GIULIA"HOSSFELD

Ted Cunningham closed his chemistry with a
slam, and pushed it across the table. "That 's the
last of chemistry for this week," he said cheer-
fully to his room-mate. "Another try at that last
problem in trig, and I 've finished my work for
to-day."

"I 'm glad you take it so pleasantly," returned
Robert Burling, dryly, as he looked up from his
work with a frown. "I still have another half-
hour's work on my Latin. I should be very glad
to have you explain to me the use in granting the
students a half-holiday, if every one of the pro-
fessors gives out so much extra work that a fel-
low has to spend his whole afternoon and evening
over his books."

Ted threw back his head and laughed. "Poor
old Bobs ! You are down, are n't you ! I knew
the sole-leather you were eating last night would
make a pessimist of you to-day, though you were
charitable enough to call it pie."

Some one was coming up the stairs three steps
at a time, and a moment later, Harvey Ransom
threw open the door and stepped in, without the
formality of waiting for an invitation.

"Get out of here," growled Robert, inhospi-
tably. "I 'm not half through with my lessons,
and I can't have you racketing around."

The intruder caught the leather pillow which
had been aimed at his head with a polite "Thank
you," and, throwing it down on the floor, seated

himself upon it. He looked up at Ted inquiringly :
"What 's the matter with the senator? He seems
to be on the war-path to-night."

Ted shook his head. "Oh, he 's all right so
long as you pay no attention to his growling.
He thinks that the earth is n't running in its ac-
customed orbit to-day, but it 's only that the pie
he got down at that little corner restaurant last
night gave him bad dreams."

Harvey grinned. "We all have to learn by sad
experience," he remarked sententiously, then hur-
riedly dodged a second pillow that came perilously
near its mark. "But fortunately not all of us
develop this homicidal tendency."

Robert closed his book and leaned back in his
chair. "I had to spend the whole afternoon over
that assignment in trig, and the everlasting grind
is spoiling my disposition," he explained apolo-
getically.

"You 're quite right there," returned Harvey,
encouragingly ; then added in a more serious tone,
"You two fellows spend too much of your time
here in this stuffy room. If you 'd get out with
the rest of us once in a while, you 'd be a great
deal better off. I 've come over here this evening
with a special invitation for you to join us in a
lark we 've planned for to-night, but I have n't
a doubt but that it will be declined with thanks."

"I hope you have n't been counting too much
on a refusal," said Ted, "for I 'm ready for any

"A DUTCH TREAT"

[Nov.,

fun that may come my way to-night— not because
I 'm taking your advice to neglect my work, but
simply because I am practically through with it,
and feel ready for a frolic. You play all the
time, Harvey, so you are never in a position to
really appreciate your good times," added Ted,
teasingly.

Harvey was not in the least disconcerted by this
allusion to his well-known aversion to study.
"You '11 soon be called upon to fill the chaplain's
place if you persist in giving us these choice ser-
monettes— your eloquence deserves a larger audi-
ence. How about you, Senator ?"

"Oh, well, I guess I can finish my Latin in the
morning before class, so I 'm with you, too.
What 's the program?"

Harvey had already risen, and was pulling on
his cap. "This is better luck than I had expected.
But we 're already late, so take your hats and
let 's be off. I '11 explain as we go."

When they had crossed the campus, Harvey
led the way down a little side street which neither
of the boys could remember having traversed
before. "Where does this road lead, Harvey?"
inquired Ted, curiously. "And what have you
fellows in view for to-night?"

"This road leads out into the fields west of
town, to the best of my knowledge, and you are
on your way to partake of a 'Dutch treat,' " re-
plied their leader with a comical air of secrecy.

Ted thrust his hands down into his trousers
pockets and jingled the coins he found there. "I
trust it 's not the same sort of a 'Dutch treat'
that the watermelon party we had last year turned
out to be — you remember that Bobs and I chanced
to be the only ones who had any change in our
pockets on that occasion, and we were therefore
forced to foot the bill. We 're not freshmen this
year, and, besides, I only have thirty-seven cents
with me— and perhaps the quarter that I think I
feel may chance to be a nickel when it is brought
to light."

His two companions chuckled reminiscently.
"This is a Dutch treat without money and without
price," Harvey reassured him.

"Oh, come now !" protested Robert, "tell us
where we are going."

"We '11 have to cross this field," said Harvey,
vaulting the fence. "We 're to meet the rest of
the fellows over near the Westville road, and then
all of us are to go on to Professor Donnerberg's,
where refreshments will be served."

The two other boys stopped short. "But he
has n't invited us !" exclaimed Ted. •

Harvey laughed. "That need n't worry you,
for he has n't invited any of us. It 's something
in the nature of a surprise party, in fact."

"That 's not much better," returned Ted. "I
don't even know Professor Donnerberg by sight,
and I doubt whether Bobs here does. He '11 won-
der to what he owes the honor of our call."

Harvey seemed more amused than ever. "There,
the fellows are already waiting for us, but before
we join them, perhaps I 'd better relieve your
minds of the fear of meeting the professor. You
see, there 's some sort of a reception to the faculty
over at Dean Wright's to-night, so the professor
will unfortunately be unable to be present at our
little gathering."

"What 's the joke?" asked Robert, impatiently.
"I thought you said that we were going out for a
Dutch treat."

"And so we are," returned Harvey, coolly. .

"Then just where does Professor Donnerberg
come in?" insisted the other.

"He comes in on the 'Dutch,' " explained Har-
vey, soberly. "He looks Dutch, acts Dutch, and
was christened 'Old Dutch' the first day he set
foot on the campus. His special hobby is a vine-
yard which is just now in its glory, as you shall
presently see, for we are now on our way to pay it
a visit. Need I further demonstrate the fitness
of the term 'Dutch treat' ? Hello, there, fellows !
Are we the last ones ?"

"Every one else has been here fifteen minutes,"
replied Winston Carter. "Hello, Burling ! Hello,
Cunningham ! If you '11 take the lead now, Ran-
som, we "11 get under way at once!"

Ted and Robert had paused uncertainly on the
edge of the little group, but as Ransom was about
to set off, Ted called him aside. "I 'd a little
rather you 'd count us out of this, Harvey," he
began rather angrily. "If you had told us in the
beginning that you were going out to rob some
one, you might have spared yourself and us this
trouble."

Harvey remained unruffled, and, laying a hand
on the shoulder of either boy, he drew them on
with him. "Don't be foolish, boys !" he protested
under his breath. "The fellows would never for-
get it if you were to go back on us now, and it 's
all right at any rate. It 's a regular class 'stunt'
down here to do something like this, and no one
ever thinks of calling it stealing."

The two chums fell into step without making
any reply, for Harvey's words had silenced but
not convinced them. But the dozen boys who
made up the party were a jolly, fun-loving lot,
the night was glorious, dark but clear, and as they
made their way quietly, yet with many a whis-
pered joke and much gay banter, through the
fields and around to the back of Professor Don-
nerberg's vineyard, both Ted and Robert forgot
their scruples and were quite carried away by the

igiz.]

A DUTCH TREAT

feeling of adventure, touched with just enough
of danger to make them tingle pleasantly with ex-
citement.

The boys came to a halt just under the high
stone wall that separated the vineyard from the

a sound. Carter came last, having been drawn
up by two of his fellows.

"Every one here?" whispered Ransom. "All
right then. We '11 go right up to the center path,
where we 're not so apt to be heard or seen from

"ONE AFTER ANOTHER OF THE BOYS SCALED THE WALL.

fields. "Here !" said Ransom, in a whisper, "some
one lend me a shoulder, and I '11 go over first to
see whether the coast is clear."

They heard him drop softly onto the turf on the
other side of the wall, and then, after a few mo-
ments of anxious waiting, his muffled call of "All
right." Carter and Dick Walton lent willing
shoulders, and one after another of the boys
scaled the wall and joined Ransom with scarcely
Vol. XL.— 5-6.

the street and house, and then we '11 scatter out
a little."

Just as the boys turned to follow Ransom's
lead, there came a blinding flash of light. The
little group stood as though petrified for a mo-
ment, then turned to run, but a hearty voice,
with a strong German accent, arrested their
flight. "I 'm very sorry that my flash-light star-
tled you so, gentlemen, but I did n't want to lose

"A DUTCH TREAT"

the opportunity to get a good photograph while
I had you all together. I should have been very
sorry to have broken up the party, though, for
I refused one invitation for to-night in order not
to forego the pleasure of meeting you here."

The boys were still too amazed for words. The
flash-light had died down, but a small search-light
was still turned full upon them, and into this
circle of light stepped Professor Donnerberg.
He extended his hand cordially to Ransom, who
was in the lead. "I 'm very glad to welcome you
here, Ransom," he said cordially. "And you,
Sargent; how do you do, Parr? I am very agree-
ably surprised to find you here to-night. When
I heard that you were too ill to attend my class
this morning, I feared that you might be seriously
indisposed."

Parr blushed crimson, but the professor ap-
peared not to notice his confusion, and went on
down the line, greeting each one of his guests by
name. When he came to Ted and Robert, who
brought up the rear, he paused a moment. "I
believe I have not had the pleasure?" he said
inquiringly.

"My name is Robert Burling, sir," replied Rob-
ert, a little unsteadily.

"I am happy to know you. And this gentle-
man?" He turned to Ted.

"Theodore Cunningham, sir."

"Is your father a Princeton man?" inquired the
professor, eagerly.

"Class of '83, sir," replied Ted, in surprise.

The professor held out his hand again. "Then
I am doubly glad to meet you. Your father and
I are old classmates, and I am delighted to know
his son." He turned again to the whole group.
"But I know that you are becoming impatient of
all these preliminaries and are eager for the real
business of the evening to begin. Are you all
armed with pocket-knives? Yes? So much the
better. Now if you will just follow me, I '11
show you where the best table grapes grow."

He led the way into the vineyard, talking as he
went. "There was a party of boys out here from
town last night, but they neglected to tell me of
their coming, and, left to themselves out here in
the dark— they had even neglected to bring lan-
terns—they got hold of the poorest grapes that
grew here this year." He took the search-light
from the grinning negro who had held it, and
threw the light over the vines. "You '11 find the
best black grapes on those small vines there in
the northeast corner. Personally I prefer the red
ones— those little fellows there at your right—
they are so much sweeter. And if any of you are
partial to the white grapes, you '11 find a late
variety on those large vines that are trained over

the arbor, but I can't recommend them very
highly— I can't raise good white grapes here in
this climate, though I 've tried it again and again.
If you '11 just gather several bunches while you 're
about it, you can bring them to the big table in
the arbor, and we can talk while we eat."

The professor continued his pleasant talk while
they ate, but the boys found it very difficult, to
keep up their end of the conversation. It was
not, however, because they were too busily en-
gaged with their grapes— eating and talking
seemed equally difficult, and in spite of their
host's urgent invitation, they did not return to
the vines for a second supply of fruit.

When, at last, they rose to leave, Professor
Donnerberg shook hands with each of them again,
assuring them that he had greatly enjoyed the
evening, and then led the way toward the street.
"Let me show you the gate/' he said cheerfully.
"It is really a much more convenient entrance
than the one you chose to-night, and I hope that
you '11 make use of it often in the future."

The boys walked down the street in absolute
silence, but as they neared the campus, Ransom
said with a groan: "I 've already got some black
marks from last year, so I suppose this means
expulsion for me !"

"You '11 have plenty of company at least," re-
turned Carter, grimly. "And by the way, Ran-
som, it was a fine old 'Dutch treat'— was n't it?"

"I thought those grapes would choke me !" put
in Parr. "I never want to see another grape-vine
the longest day I live."

"It seems to me, just now, that I could bear
choking or expulsion better than the professor's
politeness," said Ted, whose face looked drawn
and haggard.

"He was awfully clever to get that picture of us
before we knew he was there. There was n't any
use in even trying to run after that," groaned
Sargent, dejectedly.

The expected notices, summoning them to appear
at the president's office, were not received the
next day nor the next. Then a week went by,
and the boys, in anxious uncertainty, decided that
"Old Dutch" was waiting to bring the matter up
at the next meeting of the faculty. But the fac-
ulty meeting was held, and again a week went by
without any mention having been made of the
"Dutch treat." The boys began to breathe a little
more freely. Ted Cunningham had twice been
invited to take supper at Professor Donnerberg's
home, but on neither occasion had any mention
been made of their first meeting.

Then one evening in early November, Robert
and Ted invited their companions of that Septem-

'INTO THIS CIRCLE OF LIGHT STEPPED PROFESSOR DONNERBERG."

A DUTCH TREAT"

ber excursion to assemble in their room, and Ted
took the floor.

"I don't know how the rest of you fellows feel
about the 'Dutch treat' Professor Donnerberg
gave us six weeks ago," he began, "but I think the
professor a perfect brick." (There was a hearty
chorus of assent.) "I 've felt all along that we
fellows owed him some sort of an apology, and it
has occurred to me that we might send him a
basket of those big white grapes on
Thanksgiving morning, with our cards.
You remember he told us, that fateful
night, that he could n't raise good

white ones. But perhaps one of you will have
some better suggestion to make."

That first suggestion, however, was adopted
unanimously, and the order despatched at once.
The morning after Thanksgiving, each one of
the donors received a personal note of thanks
from "Old Dutch," and in each was inclosed
a photograph of a startled group of boys— "as
a souvenir of the very pleasant evening we
spent together last September," the pro-
fessor wrote, "and an invitation to re-
peat the visit each September during your
college course."

MY GIRL

BY PAULINE FRANCES CAMP

The dear little children who pass all day,
I watch from my window above,—

Darlings, with blue eyes and black and gray ;
But one little girl I love.

It is n't because of her lovely face ;

Her hair is as straight as a string.
It is n't because of some wondrous grace ;

She 's a round, little dumpy thing.

But she always mothers the littlest tots,
And is kind to the weak and small.

Swift on her two busy feet she trots,
To comfort and help them all.

Once, when the circus was passing by,
And the band was blaring along,

At the sound of a baby's piteous cry,
She turned from the hurrying throng.

She lifted the baby, and kissed the smart; —
(I saw from my window above.)

She lost the circus, but won my heart,
This dear little girl I love.

Marble palaces, jeweled carpets, golden car-
riages, elephants resplendent with gold and silver
trappings and silken blankets, princes gorgeous
with aigrets, epaulets, ear-rings, bracelets,
anklets, and rings, all gleaming with jewels,
throngs of servants in rich liveries with gold
lace,— could any place come nearer being fairy-
land realized than India, where all of these
splendors abound ? India, where princesses and
wealthy ladies are shut up in palaces and allowed
to look out only through latticed windows, and
the poor women cover their faces when they go
out in the streets ; where most of the people eat
too little, and the others eat too much, and every-
body all he can get ; where the people have brown
skins and wear curious clothes that look like
carnival costumes? Would not all this be as in-
teresting to see as the land of "Arabian Nights" ?

Yet I could never forget that it was just the
earth after all, for was I not obliged to eat three
meals a day of potatoes and cauliflower (boiled
without even salt), and tough chicken or goat?
And when I was looking at the most wonderful
things, would not a swarm of mosquitos attack
me, or the sun beat down so fiercely, or the rain
fall in such torrents, that I could not forget who
or where I was? The odors in the streets, more-
over, would never be permitted in a properly
regulated fairy-land.

The most interesting parts of India to visit are
those governed by the native princes. So long as
they remain loyal to the king-emperor in Eng-
land, and do not violate his ideas of justice and
good government, they are allowed to rule quite
independently, issuing their own currency and
postage, making and executing their own laws.
A resident or political agent, appointed by the
British, acts as intermediary between the im-
perial and state governments.

Some of these princes claim to trace their line-
age back to the sun, and others to the moon.
They have little respect for a person who cannot

boast of a long line of illustrious ancestors. The
chief in a Hindu state is usually called a raja
(prince) or maharaja (great prince), and, in a
Mohammedan state, a nabob, sometimes Nizam.
The title is hereditary, but often the chief dies
without a son, and a successor is chosen from
among the nobles of his family. Self-indulgence
and high living cause many of them to die early
or to lose their health. At present, in a number
of states, the chief is a minor. In such cases,
the British government appoints an administrator
to take charge of the state until the chief becomes
of age, when he is installed on the gadi, or
throne, with great ceremony.

It is almost impossible for an American boy or
girl to imagine the extravagance and luxury that
surround some of these young princes. Servants
attend them night and day, fan them, dress them,
and obey their slightest wish. If a wind stirs
while they sleep, curtains are drawn that they
may not be disturbed. When they drive out, a
mounted escort accompanies them, and all the
people salaam as they pass. Once, when taking
tea with a raja in his garden, I was amused to
notice that, as he moved about among his guests,
a servant followed carrying a cup which he kept
always within reach of his master's hand. The
raja would take a sip of tea, and, with perfect
unconcern, set his cup down in mid air. With
unfailing dexterity, the saucer was placed under
it by the servant in time to avoid accident. One
prince had, suspended from the ceiling, a silver
couch which was kept gently swaying while he
slept or read. Another had a beautiful vine-
covered arbor where artificial rain was made to
fall, while the nabob sat under a marble canopy
in the center, cool and refreshed, with the rest of
the world broiling about him.

In Baroda, one of the largest states, I saw the
heir, a boy of three, at the flower show, with his
little sister and nurse, in a small golden carriage
drawn by white ponies with gold harness. The

HIS HIGHNESS THE YOUNG RAJA

cushions were of cloth of gold, and the livery of
the coachman and grooms was ornamented with
gold lace. These children are much loved by
their grandfather, the Gaikwar of Baroda, the
present chief. Their father died recently, leav-
ing his baby son heir to the gadi. They live in
a palace set apart for them
by the gaikwar, where an
English nurse, assisted by
native servants, cares for
them, and is rearing them
much like English boys.

Many of the princes now
have English nurses and
tutors for their children.
In Palitana I had tea with
the young chief, Bahadur
Singji Mansingji, a minor
of twelve years. During
his minority, the state is
being administered by a
very capable Englishman,
Mr. Tudor Owen, whose
wife acts as tutor to the
young chief. When I ar-
rived, the young prince was
playing tennis with a cousin,
who lives with him as com-
panion. When the set was
finished, he came into the
drawing-room where Mr.
and Mrs. Tudor Owen were
receiving" several guests.
His eyes were sparkling,
and he could scarcely wait
to greet us before an-
nouncing that he had won.
His manners were those of
any well-bred English or
American boy.

Later, when we were all
sitting about the dining-
room table having our tea,
Bahadur Singji whispered
anxiously to a servant, who
thereupon reminded Mrs.
Tudor Owen that it was
jam day. It seemed that,
sometime before, the boy
was getting very fat, and
the doctor prescribed less
jam. He was consequently

restricted to jam once a week, and this happened
to be the gala-day. Had he been reared in
strictly Hindu fashion, of course he could not
have eaten of our food, nor even have sat at table
with those not of his own caste, or social class.

He was dressed in a simple native costume of
white linen, and wore a bright-colored turban.
For an Indian to appear without his turban
would be a mark of disrespect to his guests.
Next year the young Takor Saheb, as the chiefs
of this district are called, will attend Rajkumar

HIS HIGHNESS THE MAHARAJA OF PATIALA, THE PREMIER SIKH PRINCE OF INDIA,

AS HE APPEARED AT THE CORONATION DURBAR OF KING EDWARD VII.

His Highness is now twenty-two years old, and has a heavy black beard which he parts in the middle

and twists up over his ears, as is customary with the Sikhs.

College (college for the sons of princes), at
Rajkot, and later go to England to complete his
studies. He is being brought up as any Amer-
ican boy of wealthy parents might be, and with-
out the extravagance of many of the native courts.

HIS HIGHNESS THE YOUNG RAJA

The little Nabob of Junagarh, somewhat
younger than Bahadur Singji, received us in
state, wearing silks and bedecked with jewels.
He understands very little English, so we had to
resort to an interpreter. The poor child made a
brave effort to appear a cordial host, but it was

THE YOUNG NABOB OF JUNAGAKH — TEN YEARS OLD

the recreation hour, and he wriggled and
squirmed and smiled slyly at his young cousin in
his impatience to shed his finery and be off for a
game of ball — his favorite sport. He wrote his
autograph on his picture for me, talked a few
minutes, then went off to the playground, and was
soon running and laughing like any other boy.

His Highness the Maharaja of Jodhpur, a
charming boy of thirteen, and his brother, Ma-
haraj Umed Singh, an unusually attractive boy
of eight, have recently gone to England with
their English tutor to complete their studies be-
fore the young chief is installed.

Many of the young
princes are now sent to
school in England, in spite
of the fact that the training-
received there often unfits
them for the lives they are
destined to lead later at
home.
The
in the
much

education received
Indian colleges is
better adapted to
giving the princes an un-
derstanding of the people
and country over which
they are later to rule.
There are several colleges
exclusively for the sons of
chiefs. The principal one
is Mayo College at Ajmir,
which is maintained by the
chiefs of the Rajputana
district. These Rajput
princes represent the pur-
est Hindu blood, and have
an air of distinction at
times wanting in the other
tribes.

At Mayo College, each
boy has a separate estab-
lishment, with his own cook
and servants. It is custom-
ary for Hindus to eat in
private, but the boys some-
times invite one another
for a meal. Athletics play
as important a part in the
college life there as in
America or England.
Cricket and polo are the
chief sports. Most of the
boys bring a number of
ponies with them. Nowhere
can one see polo to better
advantage than in India,
where the princes have stables filled with ponies
of the finest breeds, and are never hampered by
having to use a tired horse. On the contrary,
many of the ponies, I am told, die for lack of
exercise. The game is much faster than at home.
These dark-skinned riders produce a most pic-
turesque effect as they dash after the ball with

HIS HIGHNESS THE MAHARAJA OF JODHPUR, AND HIS BROTHER,
MAHARAJ UMED SINGH.

HIS HIGHNESS THE YOUNG RAJA

unparalleled abandon, the streamers of their gayly
colored turbans floating behind them. Most of
them, especially the Rajputs, are consummate
horsemen.

The college was opened in 1875 by Lord North-
brook. The main building is a beautiful struc-
ture of white marble, showing modern Indian
architecture at its best. Surrounding it are the

India is now going through one of the most
critical stages of its history, and its future wel-
fare depends largely upon these young princes.
New and wholesome ideas from the West are
making themselves felt. A great many changes
have already taken place, railways, public in-
struction, hospitals, and sanitation have been in-
troduced. With tact and sympathy and trust

THE "DIPLOMA, OK GRADUATING, CLASS OF MAYO COLLEGE.

dormitories erected by the different states: Un-
der the supervision of a highly cultured English
gentleman, Mr. C. W. Waddington, these young
princes are given the education best adapted to
the lives they are to lead. Here they are all
treated as equals and are removed from the lux-
ury and intrigues of their own homes, where
they are pampered and spoiled by underlings. On
the other hand they escape the snares to which
so many succumb when sent to foreign countries.

between the British and Indians, the transition
may be made naturally and harmoniously, whereas
a false step might plunge both nations into untold
bloodshed and misery. The stand taken by the
native princes will be very important in recon-
ciling popular opinion to the changes, and Eng-
land has every reason to expect hearty coopera-
tion from this generation of intelligent boys who
are preparing to represent the Indian nation.
Long live his youthful highness, the minor raja !

ccWPolo

zoltt Fprresiiei

Marie Louise rode slowly, chin up, eyes half
closed, perhaps to keep back the tears. She did
not look at Slim, beside her on the white-footed
bronco, but Slim pretended not to notice, and
talked just as if he were being answered.

"You see, it 's this way, M'ree. A pony 's a
pony, but a trick pony like Babe is worth an
awful lot of money. That chap from the East
has offered Dad one thousand in cold cash for
her ; a whole thousand, M'ree. She 's going to
be a polo pony, and move only in the upper
classes; ain't you, Babe?"

Slim leaned over and gave Babe a playful pat,
but she curveted away from him easily.

"See that side-step she can do !" exclaimed
Slim, excitedly. "Would n't that make them
easterners' eyes bulge? And it ain't any teach-
ing she 's had. It 's just nature. Why, M'ree,
you ought to be glad she 's going to be a pam-
pered pet. That 's what I heard the man tell
Dad."

"She 's my pet, and I love her, and I don't
think Dad ought to sell her when she 's mine,"
protested Marie Louise, forcibly. Marie Louise
was likely to be forcible at strenuous moments.
Back at the ranch, when the fur started to fly,
old Louis Buteau, father of both children, would
shake his head, and say, with shrewdly smiling
lips:

"Non, non, M'ree Louise, and you named for
the queen most charming!"

To-day Marie Louise had clearly forgotten the
precedent in manners set by the "queen most
charming." She was just a ranch girl, born and
bred, tanned, keen-eyed, and not very pretty.
But there was a grace and vitality about her at
fifteen as she rode Babe over the hills that many
a city girl would have envied. Even Slim's
eyes rested on her admiringly.

She halted abruptly at the topmost point in the

mountain trail. Below them lay the Buteau
ranch, a little, low, log shack, with many strag-
gling lean-tos wandering back from it. The
sheep grazing along the lower hill-slopes looked
like dull gray rocks, their heads bent low. It was
late October, and nearly all of the trees were
swept bare of leaves. Their trunks stood out in
sharp silhouette against the red-and-yellow-col-
ored ground, ankle deep in the dry leaves.

Babe lifted her soft, sensitive nose, and sniffed
the air restlessly. She started to back on the
narrow path, and Marie Louise pulled her up al-
most crossly.

But Slim leaned forward in his saddle, and
looked down below them over the rocky ledge.
There was a strip of timber there, and from it
curled upward through the hazy, still air a thin
white cloud of smoke, hardly visible. Slowly it
rose, and settled, hanging above the trees like a
cloud.

"M'ree !" gasped Slim, tense and alert on the
instant with the true scout's instinct that scents
danger, "the timber 's afire! It 's those eastern
chaps. They rode through there this morning,
and both of them smoking cigarettes. What do
they care where they throw the stubs? It ain't
their woods. I wonder if Dad sees the smoke
yet."

"He can't !" answered Marie Louise, shortly.
"He 's gone with the men fishing."

"It 's got a bully start." Slim was off his pony,
lying face downward over the ledge, scanning
the scene below. "It will reach those spruces in
an hour, crawling as it is through the leaves. I
could keep it back that long — maybe, M'ree. I
can take my saddle-blanket and wet it in the lit-
tle waterfall back yonder, and ride down—"

Marie Louise met his eyes then, and there was
a flash of understanding between them. They
knew each other well, and they knew, too, what

'SHE LET OUT HER SPEED WHERE THE ROAD EAY CLEAR AHEAD.

HOW BABE ESCAPED POLO

it would mean to the timber belt, and perhaps the
ranch itself, if a forest fire started raging
through the valley.

"You do that, Slim," she said, turning Babe
around on the narrow trail. "I '11 go and tell
Dad."

"Don't run all the way," Slim shouted after the
flying streak, as it vanished down the mountain,
but she did not even turn to wave. Four miles
lay between her and the trout brook, not level
miles on a good road, but mountain miles, of
rough, dangerous roads, where a single misstep
in places would land pony and rider hundreds of
feet below on the gray crags of the deep ravines.

The smell of smoke seemed to have set Babe
half crazy. Ears back, nose out, she took to the
trail as if pursued. On her back, Marie Louise
clung, riding like Slim himself, knees gripping
the pony's sides, sitting well back, swaying with
every move of the slender, supple body beneath
her. Several times she half turned to look back
at that pale cloud of smoke that hung over the
timber. It looked like the smoke from a great
camp-fire. Not two miles away from it, she
knew, lay a stretch of good grazing-ground,
where a bunch of choice cattle was herded. One
whiff of the smoke, and they would all stampede,
perhaps dash headlong over the brink of a half-
hidden ravine, and be killed.

She knew that Slim would do his best to beat
it back, but the strength of one boy was little
against a fire that had got a good start amongst
the dry leaves, and might be smoldering in
twenty places. So she leaned forward over
Babe's neck, and tried to make her understand
what was expected from her.

Babe realized it. Carefully she picked her way
down the dangerous places in the trail, then let

out her speed where the road lay clear ahead.
Never had Marie Louise enjoyed a ride as she
did that one, which she thought was her last on
Babe. The very next day her pet was to be sold,
and shipped east for a polo pony. A polo pony !
Even in the excitement of the ride, a surge of
indignation swept through Marie Louise's heart,
to think of her wild, light-footed ranch pet spend-
ing the rest of her life chasing polo balls ! And
safely away from Slim's boyish chaffing, she let
the tears fall freely on Babe's glossy neck.

Buteau was out in midstream, trolling content-
edly for rainbow and brown beauties in the deep
pools of Little Laramie River, when he heard the
clear "Coo-ee!" above him on the hillside. He
knew the signal of danger, and, without a word,
left his fishing.

"The timber 's burning, Dad !" cried Marie
Louise, galloping" toward him, and Buteau, shout-
ing the news down-stream to his two eastern
guests, scrambled toward his own horse.

All night the men from the ranch worked fight-
ing back the fire, and all night Marie Louise rode
between the ranch and the fighting line, carrying
fresh coffee and food, on Babe. When it was
over, and the last smoldering embers stamped
out, she stood beside her father, looking at the
blackened trees. Babe was near by, nosing hun-
grily around.

"That was a good ride you took to warn me.
M'ree," the old ranchman remarked proudly. "I
don't think ten thousand dollars can buy that
pony, eh?"

Marie Louise flashed her quick smile at him.
and said nothing. She knew Babe was safe from
polo ! Slim turned to grin happily at her.

But Babe only lifted a hungry nose, sniffing
toward where the home ranch lay.

ACROSS THE ATLANTIC BY WIRELESS

BY FRANCIS ARNOLD COLLINS

Sailing day finds the wireless operator early at
his post. Long before the passengers come
aboard and commence to search for their state-
rooms, the wireless booth is a center of activity.
The machinery is carefully overhauled, supplies
are looked to, and a number of test messages are
sent out. The operators do not call up any one
in particular at this time, but depend upon the
sharp crack of the sending apparatus to tell
them if everything is working properly. Every
detail of the apparatus is examined, including, of
course, the aerials strung from the topmasts. The
tests are made fully three hours before sailing,
when the operators are free until the boat leaves,
almost the only carefree interval they will have
until the steamer is docked on the other side of
the Atlantic.

The first regular wireless message is sent out

as the steamer slowly backs from her pier. It is
timed just five minutes after sailing. The sharp
crack of the sending apparatus is usually drowned
by the roar of the whistle calling for a clear pas-
sage in midstream. All transatlantic steamers
send to the wireless station at Sea Gate, while
the coastwise steamers call up the station on top
of one of the skyscrapers on lower Broadway.
This is merely a formal message, but no wireless
log would be complete without it. This first
message is known as the "T R," no one seems to
know just why. The wireless station replies as
briefly as possible, and the wireless operator
shuts off.

Business soon picks up. Before the passen-
gers are through waving farewells, some one has
usually remembered a forgotten errand ashore,
or decided to send a wireless (aerogram is the

m I* j "1

■J f lL^B

in**E» tin' *l

BOY AMATEURS WITH WIRELESS OUTFITS. BOYS FREQUENTLY CATCH WIRELESS MESSAGES FROM OCEAN LINERS.

ACROSS THE ATLANTIC BY WIRELESS

word), and visitors begin to look up the wireless
station. It is usually a detached house on the
uppermost or sun deck, just large enough for the
mysterious-looking apparatus and a bunk or two.
Before the voyage is over, most of the passengers
will have become very familiar with the station,
for it is, after all, about the most interesting
place aboard. If no messages are filed for send-
ing, the operator picks up the shore station and
clicks off the name of his ship, as, for instance,
"Atlantas. Nil here" (meaning "nothing here").

Should the operator have
any messages to file, he
will add the number, for
example: "Atlantas 3."

The receiving station
picks this up and replies
quickly. If it has no mes-
sages to send, it will reply,
"O K. Nil here."

Should there be any mes-
sages to deliver, it will re-
ply, "O K G." (Go ahead.)

All the way down the
harbor, the great ship is
in constant communication,
sending and receiving be-
lated questions and an-
swers. The passengers, who
have been calling their
farewells from the ship's
side as the waters widen,
are merely continuing their
conversations with the
shores now rapidly slipping
past. Your message, mean-
while, will be delivered
almost anywhere in the
United States within an
hour, and in near-by cities
in much less time.

The wireless service is
the last detail needed to
give one the impression
that the steamer is a great
floating hotel. A steward
comes to your room to de-
liver an aerogram written
ashore a few minutes be-
fore, as any messenger-boy would look you up
at home. If you are walking on deck, or loung-
ing in the social-room or library, you are "paged"
exactly as in a hotel. Meanwhile a bulletin,
posted at the head of the main companionway
or in the smoking-rooms, announces the latest
weather forecast, the land station, and the vari-
ous ships then in wireless communication. A

little later, the daily newspaper will be published.
A novel diversion of a transatlantic crossing,
nowadays, is a game of chess or checkers played
between passengers on two steamers hundreds of
miles apart. The squares of the boards are num-
bered and the moves announced by simply tele-
graphing these numbers, when each move is made.
One of a thousand advantages of having the
wireless apparatus aboard is the control it gives
the captain if his ship should chance to ground
down the harbor. The ship's owners know all

A CHESS GAME BY WIRELESS.

1'he other player may be hundreds of miles away. Each, by a wireless

message, communicates his move to the other.

about the trouble almost immediately, and assis-
tance can be rushed from the nearest point
within a few minutes. There is the case, for
instance, of the great liner with a thousand pas-
sengers which sailed from New York one Elec-
tion Day, and stuck her nose in the mud just
inside Sandy Hook. Late at night, a tug filled
with newspaper men ran down the bay and came

ACROSS THE ATLANTIC BY WIRELESS

[Nov.

alongside. To their surprise they found the pas-
sengers in high good humor, lining the decks
and shouting the latest election returns, which
were being announced meanwhile in the cabin
exactly as on any newspaper bulletin board.

The ship keeps its wireless connection with
land through the Sea Gate station for several
hours, even after the point has been left far
astern. If the vessel is bound down the coast,
a formal report will be sent to the Ambrose light-
ship, and later to the Scotland lightship. The
transatlantic liner keeps her instrument carefully
attuned to the tall masts at Sea Gate until she
has left them about ninety miles behind. About
this time she will add "Good-by" to one of her
messages, and turn to the next wireless station
on her course, at Sagaponack, Long Island.
Throughout the long run along the shore of
North America, she will let go one wireless grasp
only when another is within easy reach.

Out here on the Atlantic, far out of sight of
land, the wireless station becomes much more
interesting than it is on shore or alongside the

LOOKING DOWN FROM THE WIRELESS ROOM ON A FREIGHTER S DECK
DURING A HEAVY SEA.

dock. At sea, this invisible link with the land
is always more or less in one's mind. The door
of the wireless booth seems to lead to a bridge
which spans the ocean. The wireless room has
all the fascination of a newspaper bulletin board,

for all the news must reach one through this
channel.

It is considered a great privilege to "listen in"
during an Atlantic crossing. There are very
few hours, indeed, when a visitor to the wire-
less house, or cabin, would not be seriously in the
way. If a corner of the cabin be found for you,
however, and the receiving apparatus clasped to
your ears, you will be amazed to find how busy
the apparatus is kept. The air above New York
harbor is as crowded with wireless messages as
are the waters with ships. You are, besides, in
easy range of many commercial stations and hun-
dreds of amateurs. Long after the shores have
disappeared from view, the buzz of wireless talk
continues. There are hundreds of amateur wire-
less stations along the Atlantic seaboard listening
to ships' messages. It is comforting to know that
if, by an accident, the powerful shore stations
should fail to catch our messages, an army of
alert boys are on guard.

Some four hours after your ship has passed
out of Sandy Hook, or after a ninety-mile run,

the operator bids
the Sea Gate sta-
tion good-by, and
begins to feel ahead
for the next sta-
tion at Sagapo-
nack, or even the
one at Siasconset,
on Nantucket Is-
land. If your ear
is sensitive enough,
you have probably
heard her call
sometime before.
For a few minutes
all sending and re-
ceiving is stopped
while the ship
throws out her
name, over and
over again. Soon
the wireless man
catches the Nan-
tucket's reply, and
explains ■ that he
could recognize the
operator's sending
among a thousand.
Then he plunges
into the work of sending and receiving messages.
It was the Nantucket station, he will explain to
you, that first picked up the C Q D call of the
ill-fated Republic, and, by its promptness, gave
the rescue steamers the news in time to save all

IQI2-]

ACROSS THE ATLANTIC BY WIRELESS

on board. The first call of a station is always
listened to with a thrill of expectation.

An incessant chatter of shore talk reaches
every ship, but your boat, you will find, has no
time for idle gossip. But let a faint call flash
from the Atlantic, and every nerve is strained to
catch it. From now on, you will be constantly
picking up news from the
incoming steamers, and their
messages are certain to be
interesting. When a steamer
is far out on the Atlantic
and out of direct communi-
cation with the stations near
New York, it is cheaper to
relay messages from one
steamer to another than to
send to the far northern sta-
tions, and have them cable
New York. In other words,
the steamers scattered along
the ocean lanes are used as
stepping-stones to communi-
cate with New York and
Europe.

About this time you may
look for news from the
steamers on "the banks," as
the region along the eastern
shore of Newfoundland is
called. Such news is of the
greatest importance, and must
be carried instantly to the
captain, who makes his plans
accordingly. The incoming

steamer reports the weather, the presence of fogs
or icebergs, and their exact location. News of
this kind takes precedence over everything else,
and the apparatus is tuned to catch these reports,
whether it gets the regular messages or not.

Your wireless operator seems to be on the
friendliest possible terms with all the wireless
stations. The men are constantly changing about
between the ships and the shore stations. To this
group of operators the world seems small indeed.
The men may not meet for years, and yet, in sta-
tions thousands of miles apart, their friendship
is kept alive by almost constant conversation.

When Siasconset is dropped astern, the ap-
paratus is attuned to the lonely station at Cape
Sable, on the bleak shores of Nova Scotia. The
steamer has been plowing steadily ahead for two
days over the trackless ocean, but is still in al-
most instant communication with its last port.
The wireless man will probably find time for a
friendly word or two to cheer up the lonely
watchers in these northern stations. The opera-
Voi.. XL.— 7.

tor on one of our crossings explained that on his
westward trip, a few days before, this station
had been silent for as much as half an hour.
There had been a slight accident to the machin-
ery, and, in this isolated position, the wireless
man must make his own repairs. Our operator
understood perfectly, but he found time to ask

RECEIVING A WIRELESS MESSAGE ON DECK.

his friend if the fishing were good, and received
instantly an indignant reply.

After Cape Sable, the ship continues its shore
messages through the wireless station at Sable
Island. Our ship is far north now, and the wire-
less stations are well up toward the verge of the
snows. If you have sailed out of New York on
a hot summer's day, it will be difficult to picture
to yourself the man who is now talking to you,
perhaps wrapped in heavy winter clothing, look-
ing out on a field of ice. It is not uncommon to
receive messages from the tropics and from the
stations not. very far below the arctic circle at
the same moment. If the operator wishes to do
so, he can tune his instrument now to pick up
the series of wireless stations scattered along
the Labrador coast. These stations are not used
by the transatlantic steamers, but work only with
the vessels, sealing expeditions, etc., plying in
these waters.

The good ship is now nearing the eastern-
most point of North America, and at Cape Race

ACROSS

■: ATLANTIC BY WIRELESS

[Nov.,

picks up the last land station. ice more a

batch of messages is received and despatched.
Cape Race is not a post to be coveted. It is one
of the most isolated in the world, and through-
out the greater part of the year perhaps the cold-
est. Operators stationed here have gone blind
from the glare of the sun upon unbroken ice-
fields. In leisure hours they have some com-
pensation in hunting wild northern game. Yet,
through the long winters, they have snatches of
the news only a few minutes later than the news-
paper offices in London or New York. An opera-
tor stationed here once broke the monotony of
his life by chatting, with the wireless men on the
ships, about the base-ball games, which were re-
ported to him inning by inning.

Ever "since the steamer left New York, the
editors of her daily newspaper have been receiv-
ing the latest news and publishing it in their
daily editions, exactly as in any well-equipped
newspaper ashore. This news is sent out regu-
larly from a station at Cape Cod. The news of
the world, including the latest stock-exchange
quotations, is boiled down to 500 words, and is
sent broadcast out across the Atlantic at exactly
ten o'clock every night. It is thrown out for
about 1800 miles in all directions, so that any
vessel between America and the middle of the
ocean may catch it. When the despatch is com-
pleted, there is a pause of fifteen minutes, when
it is repeated over the same enormous area, and
the repetitions continue steadily until 12:30. The
ships suit their own convenience, picking up the
news, at any time between these hours, when they
are not engaged with other messages.

When the calls from the Cape Race station
grow faint and are finally cut off, our steamer
ends its direct service to shore. We are now
more than one third of the way across the At-
lantic. Nevertheless, the ship is very rarely
completely out of touch with the shore through-
out the crossing. The ocean lanes are so peo-
pled with great ships that a message can be re-
layed from ship to ship to the land station in an
incredibly short time.

And for some hundreds of miles farther, as we
go across the Atlantic— to the very middle of the
ocean — the news service still follows our ship.
Regularly every night at 10:30, the operator tunes
his instrument to the Cape Cod station and writes
down the latest news at the dictation of the oper-
ator, now more than a thousand miles away.

Half-way across the Atlantic, before the Cape
Cod messages have died away, our operator
catches his first wireless from Europe, flung out
to welcome him from the powerful station at
Poldhu, on the Cornwall coast. There is scarcely

a moment on the broad Atlantic when we can-
not listen to one or the other of these stations.
Poldhu sends out news and the stock reports,
just 500 words of it, exactly as does Cape Cod,
beginning every morning at two, and repeating
the messages at regular intervals until three.
And so the wireless newspaper you pick up at
your breakfast in any region of the Atlantic, is
quite as up-to-date as the one you read at home.

Even in the middle of the ocean, there is very
little rest for the wireless operators. There is
scarcely an hour when our ship is not in com-
munication with one or more vessels. On a sin-
gle crossing, aboard one of the great liners,
there are usually from 500 to 600 wireless mes-
sages transmitted and received. When a ship is.
picked up, a notice is posted in the companion-
way, smoking-room, and elsewhere, announcing
that messages may be sent to such a vessel up
to an hour, easily calculated, when she will be
out of range.

The first direct landward messages are sent to
the station at Crookhaven, on the Irish coast.
Land will not be sighted for many hours, but the
passengers are at once busied with preparations
for going ashore. There are scores of messages
filed for both sides of the Atlantic, announcing
a safe arrival — for under the protecting arms of
the wireless one feels himself almost ashore — .
greetings are exchanged, invitations extended,
and the details of land journeys arranged.

When Crookhaven is dropped, the Liverpool
steamer next picks up the wireless station of
Rosslare at Queenstown, and Seaforth at Liver-
pool. For the other steamers there are the Lizard,
Bolt Head, Niton, and Cherbourg, passing in
rapid succession. But the thrill of the ancient
sea-cry of "Land ho !" has been anticipated a
thousand miles offshore.

A SAMPLE LOG OF A WESTWARD VOYAGE
1911

Sept. 28 — In communication with Liverpool all day.
Sept. 29 — In communication with Crookhaven all day.
Sept. 29 — 12:40 a.m., signaled Scheveningen Haven, 315

miles.
Sept. 29 — 1 : 50 a.m., signaled Pola, Austria, 930 miles.
Sept. 29 — 9 : 20 p.m., signaled Scheveningen Haven, 600

miles.
Sept. 30 — 12 :20 A.M., signaled St. Marie-de-la-Mer, 920

miles.
Sept. 30 — 1 : 1 1 A.M., signaled Seaforth, Liverpool, 400

miles.
Sept. 30 — 2:40A.M., signaled Scheveningen Haven, 705

miles.
Sept. 30 — 10:39 P-M., signaled Seaforth, Liverpool, 800

miles. Sent messages.
Oct. 1 — 3:20 A.M., signaled Seaforth, Liverpool, 890

miles.
Oct. 1 — 9: 30 P.M., signaled S.S. Cameronia, 1000 miles.

I9I2-]

ACROSS THE ATLANTIC B,

R^t.ESS

Oct. 2 — 1:40 A.M., signaled Cape Race, 900 miles.
Sent messages.

Oct. 2 — 2 a.m., signaled Seaforth, Liverpool, 1250
miles.

Oct. 2 — 7:45 P.M., signaled Cape Race, 550 miles.
Sent messages.

Oct. 3 — In communication with Cape Race all day.

Oct. 3 — n : 59 p.m., in communication with S.S. Kaiser
Wilhelm II, eastbound, and remained in touch
until 8 : 50 p.m. on Oct. 5, making over 1000
miles ahead and astern. Kaiser says, " We
cannot get out of your range."

Oct. 4 — In cu ^unication with Cape Race and Sable

Island aii day.
5 — In communication with Sable Island and Cape

Sable all day.
Oct. 6 — In communication with Cape Sable, Siasconset,

Sagaponack, Cape May, Sea Gate, all day.
Oct. 7 — In communication with Sea Gate. Docked

8 a.m.-
On October 2 the Cedric was in communication with both
Cape Race and Seaforth together ; the signals from both
stations were very good, the total distance covered from
Cape Race to Seaforth being 2190 miles.

Oct.

i 1

WHOM THE KING DELIGHTETH TO HONOR"

(A case where " the office " certainly " sought the man ")

BY JOHN K. CREE

The old saying, "Some have greatness thrust
upon them," was never better exemplified than
when, in 1516, Sultan Selim of the Ottoman Em-
pire wished to promote his secretary, Mohammed,
to be his Grand Vizir. This secretary was a man
of high scientific attainments whom the sultan
had appointed to the post of secretary as a mark
of his regard, and in recognition of his learning.
A question came up one day in regard 'to de-
claring war against the Sultan of Egypt, Kanssou-
Ghawri. The secretary, Mohammed, spoke so
strongly in favor of war that the sultan, as a
mark of his approbation, promoted him to the
post of Grand Vizir on the spot. The position
of Grand Vizir at that time was, in addition to
the honor, one of some insecurity, also, for Sul-

tan Selim was a monarch of quite uncertain tem-
per, and his vizirs seldom enjoyed their office
for much over a month before they received a
visit from their sovereign's mutes with the fatal
bowstring. In fact, most of them kept their
affairs settled up to date, and their wills made
out, immediately from their accession to the
office. Mohammed, therefore, while he appreci-
ated the honor that Selim desired to confer upon
him, expressed a desire to be excused from ac-
cepting it. Selim, however, was so bent upon
having him for his vizir, that, with his own
royal hands, he applied the bastinado to the
unhappy secretary until he cried for mercy and
expressed his willingness to accept the proffered
honor.

"MOHAMMED EXPRESSED A DESIRE TO BE EXCUSED

f «-

iHE heroes of muscle come and pass, men cheer

and forget each name ;
Swiftly the glory blooms and die's in Marathon or

game;
But I '11 tell you the tale of the race I ran when I

made my bid for fame.

The band had droned till the cornet's notes

Gave forth the airs in a dreary whine;

But oh, how they shrieked from their brazen

throats
When the twenty and two of us formed in line !
The twenty and two, and our trainers near
With their final words for each. runner's ear; —
To use his speed while his legs were strong,
Or to save himself as the way was long,—

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THE MARATHON

But Tom said nothing of speed or heat,
Only, "Bill the Spike is the man to beat."

Away ! We spread till the mass of men
Stretched like a serpent along the track;
The Spike was leaping along in front ;
He led through the gate ; I knew that then
He would reach the hillside and there come back-

We all had heard of his "sprinting stunt" ;
He would settle down in a mile or so,
And it worried no one to see him go.

There comes a time, while the race is young,
When your heart throbs fast and your pulses beat
Till they seem to batter your brain and ears;
Your hot breath scorches your throat and tongue,
And your shoes are weights on your weary feet ;

But just as you falter, your eyesight clears,
Your strength comes back, and your step grows

light,
Till your spirit leaps with the love of fight.

'T was where the wood to the road creeps down
Till it seems a pathway among the trees,
Losing the touch of the dusty town ;
There where the clover scent fills the breeze,
I felt the joy of the race grow keen.

But where were the twenty, and where was Bill ?

I lost him first when he topped the hill,

But not a runner could now be seen.

Out from the bushland, across a farm,

And never a man as a test of speed ;

A chicken raced me in wild alarm,

Then dodged from the roadway beside a stile,

THE MARATHON

[Nov.,

1912.]

THE MARATHON

On a long bare stretch, where the sun beat down,
He noticed me as we neared the town ;
He threw his head back and burst away.

I followed. The sun rays seemed to play
Straight on the dusty road, that lay
Parched as the noon of an August day ;
The fields and the fences all grew gray;
I saw the shrubbery swim and sway,
But each throb in my muscle seemed to say,
"This is the crisis, your strength must stay."

Could he keep the pace ? Was he falling back ?
The world before me was growing black—
We were breast by breast. I could hear his breath
Gasp from his nostrils like long-drawn sips ;
His eyes were staring, his face like death,
His teeth shone white between bloodless lips.

I had him ! I had him ! and yet again
He stiffened himself, and I felt him strain
To throw me off. I could hold him ! No,
Slowly I weakened and let him go.

We passed the gate and were on the track,
When his shoulders trembled, his wiry back
Shrunk and collapsed ; he clutched the air ;
Then one bony hand ran through his hair
As I heard him utter a weary moan,
And his frame sank down on the stretch like
stone.

I saw the crowds swarming from the stands,
And felt on my shoulders my trainer's hands.

He led me away, and my breath came fast,
But I gasped : "I did it ; he could not last.
I kept him in sight, it was hard to do,
But I got in. front, at the right place too."

Said Tom : "There were twenty in front of you.

sU^c.

THE BROWNIES IN
THE GRIST-MILL

BY PALMER COX

/f/unfttcM

Around a mill the Brownies strode

Where wheels were still, though water flowed

Said one: "A labor strike, I fear,

Has made it so deserted here;

And, on the belts that now should run,

The crafty spider's web is spun."

Another said : "That 's not the case.

The miller here has quit the place

Because complaints of lack of skill
Were piled much higher than the mill.
Some said the bread was slow to rise,
More found no joy in cakes or pies.

THE BROWNIES IN THE GRIST-MILL

The bread, indeed, was not a treat,
But frost had spoiled the farmer's wheat ;
But, that the flour might go around,
The wheat must in the mill be ground.
The corn, no better as a crop,

No second-rate, makeshift affair
Should in the face of diners stare,
But something that would praise inspire,
And make one edge the table nigher.
We '11 find the grain, in cars around,

Refused to ripen, or to pop;

And so the children felt their share

Of hardship and misfortune there.

The hopper must take up its clack,—

We '11 bring the hum of business back,

And stir the spider in her net ;

We 've several hours to midnight yet.

It is, you know, the time of year

That to some foreign land is bound;
It could not serve a better end
Than to folks here at home befriend.
The Chinamen can boil their rice,
And Filipinos live on mice,—
We understand that naught can run
Around on legs beneath the sun,
Or crawl about in sand or clay,

For puddings, cakes, and all good cheer,
When pies should from the oven slide,
A father's joy, a mother's pride,
To nothing say of younger eyes,
Where quality gives way to size,
And criticism as to make
Rests easy on both pie and cake.
Vol. XL.— 8.

But to their kettles finds its way.
Let work in which we '11 take delight
Now occupy our time to-night."
Another cried : "We '11 start the mill,
And set things moving with a will.
We 've but to let the water go
Upon the wooden wheel below,

THE BROWNIES JN THE GRIST-MILL

[Nov.,

And everything that rests above
Will get a most decided shove;
For water that goes bubbling by

The idle cogs begin to mesh,

And start each other's work afresh,

And soon you '11 hear the rumbling sound

Contains a power that makes things fly.
The belts will then commence their race,
As though to find a hiding-place,

The miller hears the season round."
Some ran for oil with eager zeal,
And with it eased the whirring wheel.

19I2-]

THE BROWNIES IN THE GRIST-MILL

Though some was lost through leaky cans,
'T was not enough to spoil their plans,
And rusty bearings here and there
Ran as if cushioned on the air.
The mill, with heavy post and beam,
That stood half-way across the stream,
Was made to start at dead of night,
Before the touch of Brownies bright;
For they knew how the gate to raise
As if they 'd done it all their days ;
Could shake the bolt, and pick the stone,

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And run the business as their own.

United effort was required

To raise the gate as they desired,

But let alone the Brownie band

To carry out a scheme as planned !

Unfinished work is seldom found

Behind the sprites when day comes round.

It may take strength, it may take weight,
It may take action more than great,
But gates will rise, and floods will flow,
And wheels will turn, as well we know.
It takes good work to run a mill,
For hands may never long be still ;
And eyes must note when oiling dries

THE BROWNIES IN THE GRIST-MILL

Or hoppers chatter for supplies.
But with the Brownies at the task,
The mill itself no more could ask.
For every worker had his toil,
And every bearing had its oil,
While every belt was tight with strain,
And every hopper heaped with grain.
In such a place, with wheels at play,
'T was hard to tell where danger lay ;
On shafts and belts, when off their guard,
A few went through some trials hard,
And, but that friends with courage grand
And action prompt were near at hand,
They might have needed some repair
To bones as well as outer wear.
A few who, in their secret way,
Had watched the miller, day by day
In summer-time, when grists were slow
And fish were running to and fro,
Come from the mill if signs were fine
And drop a while his work, and line,
Were quick to take the miller's stand
And bring some handsome fish to land.

Where we both work and sport unite
We play our Brownies' part aright."

The story goes, next morning found
A full supply of bushels ground;
And better still, nigh every door,
In all the place, two bags or more
Of flour as fine as one could wish
Were standing ready for the dish ;
And then such pudding, pie, and cake
That carried not a pain nor ache.

They little cared what took the bait
As long as it had life and weight.
Said one: "A touch of sport you '11 find
Well rooted in a Brownie's mind,
A pleasure-seeking trait that will
Assert itself through trials still.
And that is well ; why should one toil
Nor lift his eyes above the soil?

Then cookies rolled without a stop,

Like buttons in a tailor shop,

Upon the table, chair, and floor,

And still the fingers spread for more.

The children from the blankets crawled,

The babies in their cradles bawled,

To take a hand at mixing flour

The Brownies ground through mystic power.

In order to make this play practicable for general
use, the scenery and stage-directions suggested have
been made as simple as possible. Regarding cos-
tumes, it may be said the play can be effectively pro-
duced when the children wear ordinary clothes, the
Puritan costume being suggested by white caps and
deep collars and cuffs for the women characters, and
broad-brimmed hats and wide collars for the men.
These accessories can be easily made of very inex-
pensive material, and copied from any of the well-
known Puritan pictures. The Indians may either
appear in the Indian costumes possessed by so many
boys, or, in case these are unavailable, they may be
draped in gay blankets and wear feather head-bands,
which may be easily imitated.

Cast:

John Winthrop, Governor of the Massachusetts Bay
Colony.

William Pierce, Captain of the ship Lyon.

Thomas Dudley, Deputy-Governor of the colony.

John Wilson 1

Roger Clap

Mrs. Freeman

Mrs. Garrett J

Patience Freeman, aged 8, daughter to Mrs. Free-
man.

Samuel Garrett, aged 10, son to Mrs. Garrett.

Chief of the Narragansett Indians.

Young' Narragansett brave.

Man-servant to Governor Winthrop.

Scene : A room in Governor Winthrop's house in
the Massachusetts Bay Colony. The front door of
the house opens at center back of stage, and has
small windows on each side of it. A door on the
left opens into the next room. The room is very

•Colonists.

plainly furnished, and is evidently used for trans-
acting business. On the right of the front door is
a settee, with a chest standing near it, and on the
left of the door is a chair. Near the front of the
stage, on the right, stands a flour barrel, and be-
side it, a table with weighing-scales. On the left
side of the room there is a chair before a desk
covered with papers, etc. Several portraits and
old prints hang on the walls.

(A knock is heard on the front door. Enter Ser-
vant, at the left, who crosses to front door, and
opens it, disclosing Mrs. Freeman and Patience.
Mrs. Freeman has a basket on her arm.)

Mrs. Freeman. Is the Governor at home?

Servant. Yes, madam; he has just come in.

Mrs. Freeman. Will you let him know that I am
here?

Servant. Directly, madam. Please be seated.
(Motions them to settee, and exit, left; Mrs. Free-
man and Patience sit down on the settee. Patience
breathes on her hands, to warm them.)

Patience (fretfully). Mother, do you really think
the Governor will give us some more corn? I 'm
so tired of having nothing good "to eat !

Mrs. Freeman. Why, Patience, of course he will
if he can spare us any; but you must remember how
many sick people there are in the colony, who need
it more than we do.

Patience. Yes, Mother, but why can there not be
enough for everybody?

Mrs. Freeman. I hope that there may be before
long, my dear. We must try to think that our ship
with provisions is coming in soon. 'Sh-h! I hear
the Governor coming! Now remember your man-
ners ! Rise and curtsey as I have taught you.

THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY

[Nov.,

for Captain

(IVinthrop enters at left; bows to Mrs. Freeman.
She and Patience curtsey.)

Winthrop. Good day, Mistress Freeman. I trust
that you and all your family are well.

Mrs. Freeman. All well, Your Excellency, and
thankful to be so in this season of want and cold.
All that we could complain of is that our larder is
getting low, so I came to see if I could buy a few
pounds of corn.

Winthrop {evidently worried, but trying to con-
ceal the fact). Why, Mistress Freeman, it is about
just that matter that I am awaiting tidings. This
morning I sent word to the chief of the Narragan-
setts that we should like to trade with him for corn.
I expect that Master Dudley and Master Wilson,
who took the message, will be back soon. Can you
not wait till their return? If our trade is good, we
shall doubtless have plenty of food for all.

(Mrs. Freeman and Patience sit down on settee.
Winthrop sits on chair at left.)

Mrs. Freeman. I suppose Your Excellency has,
as yet, no word of the good ship Lyon?

Winthrop. Not yet. No doubt the date of her
sailing was deferred.

Mrs. Freeman. It would
Pierce sailed last August to
fetch us provisions, and here
it is now February.

Winthrop. If we were all
in health, the delay would not
matter so much. But when
half our people are too sick
to leave their beds, we long
to give them some of the
comforts they left in England.

(Knock on front door. Ser-
vant enters at left, and opens
door. Enter Mrs. Garrett,
zvho curtseys to the company.
Exit Servant.)

Ah! Mistress Garrett! I
was lamenting to Mistress
Freeman that we had few
English comforts for our sick,
but I did not forget that we
brought the best nurse in
England with us !

Mrs. Garrett. Your Ex-
cellency is very kind. I could
only wish that I might do
more in all the homes where sickness has entered.
I thought, however, that you might like to hear that
Master Humphrey and his wife are much better of
their fever. (Sits at center.)

Winthrop. I rejoice to hear such good news, and
I trust that you can give as good an account of your
other patients.

Mrs. Garrett. I would that I could, Your Excel-
lency, but what with this biting cold and our poor
victuals, it goes hard with them. Is there still no
hope of the Lyon?

Winthrop. No immediate hope, madam, but I
am expecting that we may be able to buy corn from
the Narragansetts.

(Knock on the front door. Enter Servant at left,
opens door to admit Dudley, Wilson, the Narragan-
sett chief, and the young brave. Dudley and Wilson
greet the company, and, with the Indians, come for-

ward to right center of stage. Servant stands in
background, at left of front door.)

Dudley. (To Winthrop) We have brought the
chief back with us, Your Excellency, as you directed,
but he does not seem favorable to making a trade.
However, we can but try. (Dudley and Wilson then
endeavor to conduct the trade, in dumb show, as fol-
lows: Dudley beckons the chief over to the flour
barrel, and indicates to him by gesture that it is
empty. He and Wilson then go to the chest, and
take from it several long and shozvy strings of beads,
which they offer to the chief, suggesting by their

motions that the Indians may have the beads if they
will fill the barrel. The chief shakes his head. Both
men urge him in vain for some time. Winthrop then
takes a red blanket from the chest, approaches the
chief, and offers it in similar fashion. Finally, after
all three men have persisted in their offers for some
time, both the chief and the young brave shake their
heads decidedly, and by pointing to their own mouths
and showing their empty hands, indicate that they
themselves have not enough to cat. Upon this Win-
throp lays down the blanket upon the table, and
Dudley and Wilson cease their offers, in apparent
despair. The Indians then file stolidly out of the
front door, which is opened for them by the Servant.
Exit Servant.)

(A silence falls on the company. It is broken by
Patience, who is frightened, and begins to cry.)

Patience. (Clinging to her mother's hand) Mother!

1912.]

THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY

Mrs. Freeman. Yes, what is it, little daughter?
Patience. If we had only stayed in England, we
should have had plenty to eat !

(Mrs. Freeman does not anszver her, but puts her
arm around her, and turns to Winthrop.)

Mrs. Freeman. Is it not hard sometimes, Your
Excellency, for all of us to realize how much more
precious liberty is than the comforts we gave in ex-
change for it?

Winthrop. You speak truly, Mistress Freeman.

But we have crossed the sea in safety ; we have been
kept from harm among the savages; we have
founded a colony where freedom is to be the birth-
right of every citizen. I believe that we have a
right to expect to receive our daily bread. What-
ever happens, we must not give up hope. I will pro-
claim a day of prayer and fasting for to-morrow.
We must not lose faith, for all may yet be well.

(Wilson, who has been standing by the table,
crosses to the barrel and glances into it.)

Wilson. See, there is still some corn in the bot-
tom of our last barrel. May not this be a sign that
we shall be fed until help comes, even as we read in
the Scriptures that the widow's handful of meal
lasted till the famine was past? (As the company
nod approval to his words, there is a knock on the
front door. Servant enters at left, and opens door
to admit Roger Clap. Clap is wild-eyed and shiver-
ing, and looks distractedly about until he sees Win-
throp. Servant stands at left of door.)

Clap (impetuously crossing stage to Winthrop).
Your Excellency, my wife is dying, and my children
have been without food for two days. Can you give
me nothing for them ?

(Winthrop goes to barrel, and scoops out a small
portion of meal.)

Winthrop (sadly). This is the last of our corn.
(Looks at Mrs. Freeman.)

Mrs. Freeman (promptly) . Let Clap have it, by
all means. What say you, neighbors?

All. Yes, let him have it, to be sure !

(Winthrop puts meal in a dish, which he is about
to hand to Clap, when there is a knock on the door.
It opens before the Servant can reach it, and Sam-
uel Garrett rushes in.)

Samuel. (To Winthrop, breath-
lessly) Your Excellency, the Lyon
has come! (The company are star-
tled and surprised, and scarcely be-
lieve him.)

Winthrop. Boy, is this the truth?
How do you know ?

Samuel. Indeed, Your Excel-
lency, it is nothing but the truth !
I was down on the shore, when I
looked across the bay, and saw a
great ship entering the harbor. And
as I ran up to bring you word, I
heard a man saying that Captain
Pierce was even now being rowed
ashore.

(Before any one can speak, there
is a loud knock on the door, and as
the Servant hastily opens it, Captain Pierce ap-
pears on the threshold. Winthrop rushes to
meet him, and seizes him by both hands.)

Winthrop. Never was man, or ship, more
welcome ! William Pierce ! Thank Heaven !

(The others crowd around Pierce, and greet
him with joyous and grateful exclamations.)

Pierce. (To Winthrop) Your Excellency,
I have the honor to report the safe arrival of
the Lyon!

Winthrop. An hour ago we had well-nigh
given you up !

Pierce. We have met with many unforeseen
delays on our voyage.
Wilson. Did you meet with storms ?
Pierce. Many of them, one so severe that one of
our sailors was washed overboard. But our great-
est delay was caused by our meeting a dismasted
bark, which we must needs tow back to Bristol. We
could only imagine what you must suffer in our ab-
sence. I, too, thank Heaven we have arrived !
Dudley. Have you provisions aboard?
Pierce. Yes, verily, a goodly store. We have
wheat, peas, and oatmeal ; we have beef and pork

THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY

and cheese and butter! {Great relief and thankful-
ness shozvn by the company.)

(To IVinthrop) If Your Excellency will ask a
few men to volunteer to go down to the Lyon and
help us unlade her, we shall have everybody fed
within the hour.

Samuel (eagerly). I will volunteer!

(All laugh. Pierce pats him on the shoulder.)

Pierce. You shall come down to the ship with

me. There is plenty for smart lads to do as well as
men.

Winthrop. Friends, I will now proclaim not a
day of fasting and prayer, but one of praise and
thanksgiving for our deliverance. However great
the destiny that may await our colony, struggling
here in the wilderness, this day must never be for-
gotten !

(curtain)

ON DAYS OF STORM

BY MARGARET JOHNSON

I love the sunny days for play,
And all the outdoor things we do;

But days of storm— they shut me in,
Yet they 're the ones I wait for, too.

For somehow, when the floods come down

And pour through all the tossing trees,
And all the windows, streaked with rain,

Look out as if on foaming seas;
When, streaming from the roaring boughs,

The yellow leaves in crowds are blown,
And all the furious gutters choke,

And thick the weltering ways are sown;
When dimly show the driving clouds

The sweeping rain and tempest through, —
It 's then, not on the sunny days,

The splendid story-things come true !

The tumult rises in the trees,

And through it, where I, sheltered, stay,
I hear the din and clash of arms,

And battles raging far away.
Then plumed knights on neighing steeds

Career across the swelling storm;

Strange scents from ladies' scarfs are blown,

And swinging censers, rich and warm.
The trampling hoofs of hosts go by,

With banners torn and rending cries;
Crusaders shout their battle-hymns

Above the havoc of the skies;
Beleaguered castles heave and fall ;

Great conflagrations heavenward roar;
And shouting breakers run and plunge,

Tumultuous, on the crashing shore;
The blare of bells where kings are crowned,

The trumpet's peal, the rolling drum,
The surge of cheering multitudes, —

Still on across the storm they come;

I hear the fury and the rout,

And watch the proud parade go by,

Till something swells into my throat
That almost makes me want to cry !

And though the sunny days are best,
Perhaps, for men who work and fight,

Someway, on stormy days like this,
I know what makes the poets write !

Vol. XL.— 9.

"CALLING!" DRAWN BY GERTRUDE A. KAY.
65

"SHELTIE" — THE CHILDREN'S FRIEND

BY FLORA MACDONALD

In the Shetland Is-
lands, far up in the
cold North, two
hundred miles be-
yond Scotland, there
lives a shaggy, strong
little horse called a
"Sheltie," that has
been for generations
the friend and helper
of the simple inhab-
itants. The steep,
rugged hills made
his little feet strong,
the great cold gave
him a thick, warm
coat, and the friend-
ly hearts of the peo-
ple among whom he
lived developed in him a gentle, affectionate na-
ture. Especially did the children come to love
him and take him for their playmate, and when
some of these ponies were brought to America,
the children soon claimed them for their own.

MAKING FKIENDS.

They grew to be such good friends that every
child wanted to have a pony of its very own.
Fathers and mothers gladly gratified this wish,
for they saw how "Sheltie" helped the children
to grow strong and healthy, full of life and
courage.

A Shetland pony is not only an ornament and a
child's plaything, but is useful about a place in
many ways — in running errands or taking the
children to school. His care and keep are very
simple matters, as grass is his best food in sum-
mer, and no object on a lawn is more attractive
than a pony. In winter, his food is hay, cured
while still green, with the addition of a little
grain, especially if he is much used.

A very young pony will be easily broken by the
children playing with him. They will naturally
climb upon his back to ride him, and hitch him to
a sled in winter, or a little cart in summer. He
is soon accustomed to any and all uses. But an
older pony needs to be broken to the saddle and
harness by one who understands how to do it
patiently and gently. He is keen to learn any-
thing in a friendly way, and is naturally fearless.

■SHELTIE" — THE CHILDREN'S FRIEND

SUMMER OR WINTER, THE "SHELTIE IS A JOV.

SHELTIE" — THE CHILDREN'S FRIEND

[Nov.,

The cost of a pure Shetland pony is not large.
It depends upon his age, breeding, beauty, and
value for children's use. One can be bought as
soon as it can leave its mother for from sixty to
eighty dollars, while a mature pony, of three or
four years of age, is worth from one hundred and

ridden her pony up the steps into our house,
where he has walked through the rooms, a most
welcome visitor. Especially is this a pretty inci-
dent at a time like Christmas. They do no more
damage than a dog, and can manage the steps
nearly as well. At one time, we had a young

GOOD COMRADES.

twenty-five to two hundred dollars. The purchase
of a Shetland for children is strongly advised by
Dr. S. B. Elliot, of the Belle Meade Farm, at
Markham, Virginia, the largest pony farm in the
east. He says, "If a young pony is given to a little
child, they will grow up together and become the
best of friends, each acquiring confidence to the
extent that the breaking to saddle and harness
is hardly noticed by either. Furthermore, when
the Shetland is well taken care of, he matures
rapidly, and can be used moderately at fifteen
months' of age. He often lives to be thirty or
forty years old."

The Shetland pony becomes of greater use
where he is made a real member of the family,
loved and petted "by all. Then he is in the best
condition for his development, if his simple wants
are attended to carefully. My little girl has often

English cook who loved animals dearly, and the
ponies seemed to know it, for they would come
to the kitchen window and neigh till she gave
them a bit of bread or other titbit. When she
went out to the garden for vegetables, they would
follow her, till often her pan would be half empty
when she reached the house, especially if it con-
tained carrots, of which they are very fond. I
have known them to rattle the door-latch or knob
till she came to see them. All animals have a
language of their own, and where friendship ex-
ists between man and an animal, the animal will
learn to let his wants be known in strange sounds
and queer ways.

The baby ponies are as full of fun as human
babies, and play just as hard. My little daughter
and I have often gone to the fields where the
mothers and colts were pastured, at about four

IQI2.]

SHELTIE" — THE CHILDREN'S FRIEND

o'clock in the afternoon. After their noon meal,
they take a good sleep, and as it gets cool, they
wake, full of the spirit of fun. Two or three lit-
tle ones will act as if they were playing tag,
tearing across the field after each other. In-
stead of tagging, they suddenly wheel about and
kick each other in the funniest way, their tiny
heels making a drumming noise as they strike.
Then off they fly again like the wind, keeping it
up till they are tired, and glad to lie down and
roll over in the cool grass. Their coats, as babies,
are like silk plush, and every movement is full
of grace. Their faces are very pretty, with a
soft, innocent expression that makes one long to
hug the dear little things. It is also a great pleas-
ure to see their love for their mothers, and the
care the mothers give them.

There is a side to the value of ponies to chil-
dren which is not generally understood. Physi-
cians frequently recommend them as playmates,
and repeatedly children have been known to ob-
tain rugged health and develop rapidly when
given a pony. It is quite true that a child who
has a pony is happier and will take more exer-

cise in the open air, but that is only part of it.
A child of four or five years learns to ride as
easily as it does to play, and he has a natural
love for a horse of any kind. Having a pony of
his own develops in a child a sense of owner-
ship and control, and he learns to govern other
natures ; this child will, I believe, develop into
a finer, more robust, and more able man or wo-
man than he would have done without the pony.
My own little girl began to ride as soon as she
could sit up on a pony, and now, at seven years
old, she is very strong and active, well-grown,
and almost never ailing. We believe her years
of riding have greatly helped to develop her into
the strong, muscular child she now is. As to her
mental development, I find that ruling animals
in an active, country life has made her not only
intelligent and acutely alive, but has strengthened
her will power and self-control. It has also fos-
tered a deep love and sympathy for all animal
life, which must ever be a help and blessing to
her. Animals were intended by our Creator to
be our friends and helpers, and in our childhood
especially there is no better friend than a pony.

■'

PUMPKIN TIME

BY EDITH MALLERY

Now the autumn leaves are falling

And the chilling breezes blow,
And the clouds that sail above us

Tell of ice and sleet and snow;
Yet the children all are happy,

Singing many a cheery rhyme,—
Need you ask of me the reason?

Boys and girls, 't is pumpkin time !

Here they come with song and laughter,

Merry elves with face aglow !
Each one, from small, chubby fingers,

Swings a pumpkin to and fro.
As you look across the corn-field,

Smiling fairies may be seen; —
Need you ask of me the reason?

Boys and girls, *t is Hallowe'en !

"WHEN I 'VE BEEN BAD"

BY ANNA MAY COOPER

When I 've been bad, my mother says,

"All right, son. Just you wait !"
And when night comes, we listen

For my father at the gate.
And if it 's me that hears him first,

I run to let him in,
And tell him all about it

'Fore my mother can begin.

And sometimes when I 've finished,
He looks down at me and grins.

And says that it reminds him
Of his own boyhood sins;

Then he leads me in to Mother,
And he says, "Poor little lad,

I really don't think, Sweetheart,
That he 's been so very bad."

But last night, by the window.

While I watched the shadows creep,
My eyes got very heavy,

And I, somehow, fell asleep.
I could have told him, easy,

Just why I screamed and kicked ;
But Mother was ahead of me,—

And that time I got licked !

THE MACHINERY OF A WATCH

The power to keep in motion the machinery of a
watch is supplied by the mainspring. In winding
a watch, this spring is coiled in the central part
of its holder, known as a "barrel." The main-
spring in its constant endeavor to uncoil turns
this barrel in one direction, and its power is
transmitted through the teeth on the outer rim
of the barrel to the "train" of wheels.

»¥*

THE MAINSPRING, COILED IN THE "BARREL, IS THE

POWER THAT DRIVES THE WATCH.

(Magnified abuut five times.)

The motion is prevented from being too fast by
what is known as an escape-wheel, the cogs of
which work in connection with the "pallet and
fork." This lets the motion "escape" in a series
of short stoppings, well known as the ticking of
the watch. In connection with the "pallet and
fork" is the balance-wheel, whose vibrations reg-
ulate the speed at which all shall move. This
balance-wheel serves the same purpose in a
watch that the pendulum does in a clock.

The • vibrations of the balance-wheel are the
result of the action of two forces, one being
the force of the mainspring acting through the
"train" of wheels and the escapement, to turn

the balance-wheel on its axle, and the other being
the opposing force of a very small spring, known
as the hair-spring, coiled loosely about the bal-
ance-wheel, and which thus tends to regulate the
power of the mainspring.

The bearings for the ends of the tiny shafts of
the wheels give better service if they are not
made of metal but of some hard mineral or jewel,
as, for example, garnet, chrysolite, ruby, etc. The
lower-priced watches have these jewels in only some
of the most important bearings. The better classes
of watches have more jewels. If all the important
wheel bearings have these minerals, the watch is
said to be "full-jeweled." The jewels are held in
place by screws so small as to be almost invisible
without the aid of a microscope. Very small
screws are also used in other parts of the watch.

Ask some one you know to let you look at the
works of his watch, or, better still, as watches
nowadays are often made with a protecting plate
that conceals all but a few parts of the mechan-
ism, ask some friendly jeweler to let you see the

THE UNDER SIDE OF THE BALANCE-WHEEL.

This regulates the speed

(Magnified about five times.)

machinery of a watch from which he has
moved this outer plate, and to explain it to

re-
you.

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

TWELVE TINY SCREWS AND SIX JEWEL-PINS. AN ESCAPE-WHEEL. AN ESCAPE-PINION.

(Magnified and photographed with the head of a medium-sized pin to show relative size.)

THE WONDERS OF A WATCH

It is a matter of every-day occurrence for a
person to say to his watchmaker, "Here is a

THREE TINY SCREWS HOLDING A SMALL JEWEL.
(Greatly magnified.)

watch which you sold me ten years ago. It has
gone well till lately, when it has taken to stop-
ping without any apparent cause."

The people who speak in this way little think
of the amount of work that a watch has per-
formed in this space of time, and may be aston-
ished at the following figures :

"In ten years," says London "Answers,"
"which include two leap-years, and consequently
a total of 3652 days, the hour-hand has made
7306 and the minute-hand 87,648 revolutions.
The end of an average minute-hand has traveled
more than 10,280 yards — more than six miles.
The second-hand has made 5,258,880 revolutions,
and its extremity has traversed on the dial a dis-
tance of nearly 123 miles. The escape-wheel has
made 52,588,880 revolutions, and as it has fifteen
teeth, it has come 788,832,000 times in contact
with each pallet. The balance-wheel has made
Vol. XL.— 10.

1,577,664,000 vibrations, and any point on the
outside of the rim has covered a distance of
about 50,000 miles, and that is equal to twice
the circumference of the earth."

These amazing statements and figures have
been submitted to the Elgin National Watch
Company of Elgin, Illinois, and Mr. George E.
Hunter, the superintendent, says that they are
almost right for an Elgin watch, small changes
being due to the size of the watch. In the Elgin
No. 16 size, the end of the minute-hand in ten
years travels 11,473 yards; in No. 18 size, 12,238
yards. The second-hand in No. 16 travels 130.38
miles; in No. 18, 143.42 miles. A point on the
outside rim of the balance-wheel of 16 and of 18
respectively, travels 44,511 and 48,891 miles.

Interesting as these figures are, and surprising
as are the distances traversed, one's interest is
increased by a knowledge of the amount of force,

THE " PALLET AND FORK WHICH WORKS IN CONNECTION

WITH THE ESCAPE-WHEEL.

(Magnified about three times.)

in horse-power, required to drive an Elgin watch,
size 18. Of this Mr. Hunter says: "All watches
are built to run for at least thirty hours, and on
that basis, the power required to drive an 18 size

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Nov.,

watch is approximately 192-10,000,600,000 horse-
power." One hundred and ninety-two ten-bil-
lionths of one-horse power ! The distance trav-
eled is enormously great, the power needed is
enormously small, if I may be allowed to use
such an expression, and one's astonishment is
increased when he remembers that a single horse-
power is the power to lift 33,000 pounds one foot
in one minute.

A copy of the item from the London publica-
tion was also sent to the Waltham Watch Com-
pany of Waltham, Massachusetts. Mr. E. A.
Marsh, of that company, adds the following even
more astonishing facts as to the accurate work
done by a watch :

"In addition to the above it ought to be said
that, however astonishing the statements as to
the enormous amount of work which is per-
formed by the pocket watch, the truly remarka-
ble feature concerning it is the marvelous ac-
curacy with which that work is done. The fol-
lowing brief statements will help to show how
wonderfully accurate the work of a running watch
really is:

"In nearly all modern watches the mechanism
is so designed that, in order to obtain accurate
'mean sun time,' the balance-wheel must vibrate
exactly eighteen thousand times (18,000) every
hour. We say 'exactly eighteen thousand,' for
if there should be one vibration in each hour less
than the required number, the watch would lose
two and two fifths minutes in a month. Such an
error would be serious."

An interesting comparison may be made in
this way: in a No. 16 watch (the ordinary size
for men), the balance-wheel makes about one
and one quarter turns for each vibration, and its
rim, in each vibration, will travel two and three
quarters inches. In a single day this will amount
to rather more than sixteen and one half (16.61)
miles, or farther than most persons care to walk
in a day.

If you planned to walk exactly the 16.61 miles,
and should fall short of that distance by only
ten feet, or by only about five steps, it would be
a trifling matter ; but if the watch balance should
make a similar failure, it might become serious
in its results, for the watch would then lose nine
and four fifths seconds a day, or four and nine
tenths minutes a month. A watch that kept no
better time than that would be exceedingly un-
satisfactory.

Wonderful as are the achievements of a watch,
it is still more wonderful that man has been able
to invent machinery of such marvelous delicacy,
that, when set in operation, it will automatically
manufacture the microscopic parts required.

THE PYGMY HIPPOPOTAMUSES

of the New York Zoological Society.

The New York Zoological Park has recently
obtained a pair of the rare and strange pygmy
hippopotamuses (Cha:ropsis liberiensis) recently
obtained in Africa. Director Hornaday thus
describes them :

"This adult male is thirty inches high at the
shoulders, seventy inches in-length from end of
nose to base of tail, and the tail itself is twelve
inches long. The weight of this animal is four
hundred and nineteen pounds. All these figures
are offered subject to correction.

"The female is believed to be only two years
old. It stands eighteen inches high at the shoul-
ders, and weighs one hundred and seventy-six
pounds.

'"The pygmy hippo is characterized first of all
by its midget size, which, in the adult animal, is
about equal to that of a twelve-months-old baby

By permission of the New York Zoological Society.
A PYGMY ELEPHANT.

1912.]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

hippo of the large species. Its skull is more con-
vex, or rounded, on its upper surface, than that
of H. amphibius; its legs are longer and more
slender in proportion, and its eyes do not "pop"
out of its head, like those of the giant species.
Another striking character is the long tail, which,
in proportion, is about twice as long as that of
its only living relative, H. amphibius.

"The face of the pygmy is relatively smaller
than that of the large species, which brings the
eyes nearer to the median line of the skull. The
lower jaw of the pygmy bears only two incisor
teeth, while the large species has four; and while
the eyeballs of C. liberiensis are large, they are
proportionally less elevated than those of the
large hippo. As the latter swims nearly sub-
merged, the eyes seem to float on the surface of
the water like two shiny glass marbles."

Pygmy elephants were discovered in 1905.
The specimen at the New York Zoological Park
is about fourteen years of age.

A SPONGE OF GLASSY MATERIAL

"glass-sponge" is often applied to the framework
of this group of animals. The animal tissues of
this sponge, as of others, cover the interlacing
fibers of the framework which acts as a support-
ing structure. The skeleton itself is sometimes

THE INTERLACING FIBERS OF ONE END OF THE
VENUS FLOWER-BASKET.

Our young people are undoubtedly familiar with
the fact that the sponge, as we ordinarily know
it, is in reality the flexible skeleton of a colony
of salt-water animals.

The Venus flower-basket, a favorite and beau-
tiful object found in many natural history collec-
tions, is a similar growth, only its skeleton is
composed of silica, which in appearance resem-
bles colorless glass. For this reason the name

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NEARLY THE ENTIRE LENGTH OF A "GLASS-SPONGE,

KNOWN AS VENUS FLOWER-BASKET.

(Euplectella aspergillum.)

formed, as in this example, of needle-like struc-
tures, which are called sponge-spicules. In other
sponges, these spicules may take the form of

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Nov.,

anchors ; of hooks that may be single or double ;
of a long axle with a wheel-like body on one or
both ends ; of a long, tapering rod with a knob
at one end roughened by projecting spikes, and
various other graceful and beautiful shapes. In
the Venus flower-basket these spicules are scat-
tered throughout the sponge walls, and often are
welded together or so interlaced as to form a
very beautiful network. The specimen from
which the accompanying illustrations were made,
is about a foot in length ; not quite all of one is
shown in the illustration.

REINDEER IN ALASKA

The herding and breeding of domesticated rein-
deer, introduced as an experiment a number of
years ago from a small herd imported by the
Government from Siberia, have now become the
most prominent feature of the industrial educa-
tion of many thousands of the natives of arctic
Alaska. The means of living, formerly obtained
by hunting and fishing, have been greatly lessened
by the destruction of the fish by canneries, and
of the fur-bearing animals and game by white
trappers. The reindeer industry is therefore
an important part of life in many Eskimo vil-
lages. The total number of reindeer in Alaska
is now over thirty-three thousand; of these the
natives themselves own sixty per cent., or more
than twenty thousand, and are always anxious to
obtain more, preferring deer rather than cash for
their services. The Government does not sell

reindeer. This is done entirely by natives and the
missions. It has been found necessary by the
Government to put the young native Eskimo
through a course of training, and those who get
their deer directly from the Government have to
serve as reindeer apprentices for four years. With
careful training they make good herders. They
are taught how to care for the reindeer, to har-
ness and drive them, to throw the lasso, and

RIDING A REINDEER.

to protect the fawns from the attacks of wolves
and dogs. At the end of their apprenticeship,
the herders have about fifty deer, which, with the

SOMETIMES THE YOUNG PEOPLE IN ALASKA RIDE REINDEERS TO SCHOOL OR FOR AMUSEMENT.

I9I2.]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

4*. *. * I ****

-n >*%

*W"" —

A HERD OF REINDEER AT HOME.

yearly increase, provides a good income for the
future. Well-trained sled-deer have been used to
carry the United States mail from Barrow to
Kotzebue, a distance of six hundred and fifty
miles. This is the most northern mail-route in
this country, and the most perilous and desolate
mail-trip in the world. The average speed is
from forty to fifty miles per day.

At Barrow, "the jumping-off place" of the
American continent, there is a herd of more than
seven hundred deer. Here about one hundred
and twenty Eskimo boys and girls attend the
Government school. They are the most northern
school children in the world. Some of the boys
get up at three or four o'clock in the morning
and walk five miles to the open water to capture
a seal for their mother, but they always get back
in time for school at nine o'clock. Occasionally
the young people ride reindeer for amusement,
but it is not a customary method of travel in
Alaska, as it is in Siberia.

LEGENDS ABOUT PLANTS

In early times, certain trees were invested by
human beings with a mystic or a sacred character,
and many plants were associated with religious
beliefs. One of the best examples of the last is
the passion-flower. When the early Spanish set-
tlers in South America saw this flower, they fan-
cied that they had discovered a marvelous symbol
of the crucifixion, and they devoutly believed that
it was an assurance of the ultimate triumph of
Christianity. One of their writers, Jacomo Bosio,
according to "The Folk-Lore of Plants," obtained
detailed knowledge of how the Mexicans regarded
it, and gave a minute description of the blossom.

The ten colored petals and sepals represent the
ten apostles present at the crucifixion (Peter and
Judas being absent).

Inside the corolla is a showy crown of fila-
ments, by some taken to represent the crown of
thorns, by others the halo.

It is interesting, in the study of plant life, to
note the extent to which various peoples have

assigned to plants qualities and meanings that
existed only in their own ideas or beliefs. Some
of these have been beneficial, as, for example, the
idea that a tree has a soul, and for that reason
should not be cut down, lest one should hear "the

THE PASSION-FLOWER.

wailing of the trees when they suffer in this way."
It might be a good thing if certain people, nowa-
days, had such beliefs as would lead them to treat
considerately not only trees and plants, but birds
and four-footed animals as well.

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Nov.,

^"BECAUSE WE
[WANT TO KNOW"

a cat's eyes of two colors

Kansas City, Mo.
Dear St. Nicholas: I have a little two-months-old Per-
sian kitten which has one light blue eye and one green
gray eye. Could you please tell me why it is so?
Your very loving reader,

Louise Meckes (age n).

Such differences in the color of the eyes often
happen with white kittens, both long- and short-
haired, but with a cat of no other color of which
I have ever heard. Such cats are called by fan-
ciers "odd-eyed," but I have never heard any
cause given, or, rather, explanation offered, for
the phenomenon. I have several at the cattery
now, and they are curious-looking "little beasties."
The mother, in both cases, is endowed with the
most beautiful of blue eyes. The blue eye is the
ideal color for a white cat. The orange eye
makes it second best, all other points being equal.
But the blue eyes in the white cat are frequently
accompanied by deafness, while the orange- and
odd-eyed cats never are deaf, except, of course,
from local trouble, as sometimes happens to any
animal or human.

J. R. Cathcart.

a racoon as a pet

Nashville, Tenn.
Dear St. Nicholas: My uncle has a pet 'coon which
washes everything he eats; you give him a nut and he will
wash it and wash it, and then he eats it. This 'coon is
very mischievous, and has to be kept chained. He seems
to know when they have ice-cream, for he hears them
freezing the cream, and whines until they give him some.
If you give him a pan of clear water and some soap, he
will wash his face and hands with the soap. Then give
him some more clear water, and he will wash the soap off
and wipe his hands and face. He always likes to play
with some one, but when there is no one to play with him,
he goes to sleep.

If he is let loose, he climbs into a little hole in the roof,
and stays in there all day and sleeps, and comes out at
night. I don't think it would be better to let him roam
in a cage, for he loves to play in the grass. We feed him
anything, mostly nuts and bread, and he likes everything
sweet.

He is kept chained in the garden in the shade in the
summer, and under the house in the winter, and sometimes
on the back porch.

Your friend,

Edward Weston Hamilton.

The lovableness of a 'coon depends upon the
age at which it is taken from the wild woods.
Ernest Thompson Seton truly says, "The old
racoon is sullen, dangerous, and untamable if

kept captive, but the young, if taken at an early
age— that is, before they have begun to hunt for
themselves— make intelligent and interesting

A YOUNG RACOON TAKING MILK FROM A BOTTLE.

pets, being easily tamed and evincing consider-
able affection for their master."

The editor of "Nature and Science" recently
found a very young racoon in the woods, and it
is now attracting much attention by the eager-
ness with which it takes milk from a bottle.

a rainbow at night

Elizabeth, Col.
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please tell me the cause
of a rainbow in the night? Last fall, about nine o'clock
in the evening, a rainbow appeared in the north, and no
one knew the cause of this. I shall be very grateful if
you will explain this for me.

Yours respectfully,

Marguerite Barnett.

Nothing can make a true "rainbow" except a
combination of sun or moon and rain or fog. At
nine p.m. a rainbow should not be visible unless
the sun or moon is shining. Possibly you have
mistaken a bow of the aurora borealis, or "north-
ern lights," for a rainbow. We have some re-
ports of aurora on October 10 in northern New
York. We shall be glad to get particulars as to
the date and appearance and location of the
"rainbow" before we can speak more definitely.
Could it have been a meteor ?— Cleveland Abbe.

I9I2-]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

WHY METALS SEEM OF DIFFERENT TEMPERATURE
FROM THAT OF SURROUNDING OBJECTS

Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please tell me why any
metal is always cooler (if not in the sun or a hot place)
than anything else? I am very much interested in the
Science Department.

Your constant reader,

Helen Kay (age 12).

Practically all common objects, except metals,
with which we come in contact are non-conduc-
tors of heat, that is, heat will not flow through
them readily. Such objects are wood, paper, cloth,
etc.; but metal objects, generally speaking, con-
duct heat readily. All objects, including the two
classes just mentioned, are, as a rule, at a lower
temperature, or colder, than our bodies ; hence,
when we touch an object, as wood, which will not
conduct heat readily, no heat flows from the hand
into the object, and it does not give us the im-
pression of being cold; but when the warm hand
comes in contact with an object which is a good
conductor of heat, such as metal, heat flows from
the hand into the object, tending to warm it to
the same temperature as the body. This loss of
heat on the part of the hand gives us a sensation
of coldness. Of course, if the object has been
placed in the sun or any hot place where it has
acquired a temperature above that of the body,
the phenomenon is reversed, in that the metal
gives its heat rapidly to the hand, while the wood,
being a poor conductor of heat, does not; conse-
quently, the metal feels warmer than the wood
under such conditions. — Professor F. R. Gorton,
State Normal College, Ypsilanti, Michigan.

It is interesting to notice that the hand, which
is exceedingly sensitive to differences of touch,
is not as sensitive to heat and cold as the face,
so that when you try the cold feeling of metals,
it is best to apply them to your cheek or nose.

Some things besides metals feel cold, as you
will find if you step with bare feet on a cold win-
ter morning upon a piece of oil-cloth instead of
upon the carpet. This also is caused by its power
of conducting heat.

Different metals vary in their heat conductiv-
ity, silver and copper being the best conductors,
and alloys, such as brass, German silver, and so
on, being much poorer ones. If you put solid sil-
ver spoons and plated spoons into a cup of hot
water together, you will find that the heat goes
much faster up the handles of the solid spoons
than up those of the plated ones.

An expert will distinguish between a ball of
quartz crystal and a similar ball of glass by
touching his tongue to both, because the tongue
is very sensitive to cold, and the quartz, as it
conducts heat more rapidly, feels much colder.—
Professor H. L. Wells, Yale University.

A CAT THAT WASHES ITS FACE WITH BOTH PAWS

Detroit, Mich.
Dear St. Nicholas : In January's "Nature and Science"
you said that you had never seen a cat use both paws at
once to wash her face. You asked if any of the chil-
dren had. I have. My kitten used to amuse us very
much doing it. She would sit up on her hind legs and
then "scrub" her "arms," one after the other, over her
ears and head. She looked sometimes just as if she
folded her arms when she was through.

Your very interested reader,

Betty Penny (age 12).

It is a very clever cat, indeed, that can sit on
its hind feet and wash its face with both paws
at once ! I do not imagine it has any significance
beyond that. A cat can be taught to sit up and
beg, and from that point I suppose this other feat
would be only a step. Possibly this cat bears the
same relation to the rest of her tribe as the man
who must do things in double-quick time bears
to his fellow-men.— Jane R. Cathcart.

A TREE IN THE FORM OF A BASKET

{From one of our older readers)

A MULBERRY-TREE THAT HAS BEEN TRAINED
INTO THE FORM OF A BASKET.

Cazenovia, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas : The inclosed photograph of a forty
years' trained growth of a mulberry-tree in the Umbrian
plains (Italy) may be of interest to your Nature and Science
department. M. F. H. Ledyard.

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK

[Nov.,

hen Dickey Brown was two years old,
His cheeks were round as plums.
He liked to sit upon your lap,
And suck one of his thumbs.

igi2.]

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK

ut when four years had rolled around,
Among his greatest joys
Were riding on his rocking-horse,
And playing with his toys.

Vol. XL.— ii.

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK

[Nov.,

hen six years old, he did not care
For toys and nursery play,
But wanted to stay out-of-doors
With other boys all day.

1912.]

FOR VERY LITTLE POLK

ut that fine day when he was eight,
Was one of joy and pride:
With cart and donkey all his own,
He took his friends to ride!

ir~

-■^-^ff^^o^^^ouiW^~"'~^l^m':

THE SENTINEL

BY STANLEY BONNEAU REID (AGE 14)

(Gold Badge)

High o'er the pass, behold him stand,
Austere and silent, grim and cold ;

Keeping his watch o'er all the land,
This mighty sentinel of old.

He lifts his rugged brow on high.
His granite chest is rough and torn,

As, piercing through the clouded sky,
He laughs the centuries to scorn.

The subject assigned for Verse this month, "The Sen-
tinel," called forth a great number of really admirable con-
tributions from League members. There were tributes to
" sentinels " of many kinds, and in many forms ; but perhaps
the most sonorous and impressive was the four stanzas
printed above, which are worthy to rank as a humble com-
panion-piece to Oliver Goldsmith's famous lines:

As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form
Swells from the vale and midway leaves the storm, —
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

What though the years beyond recall
Have come and gone and passed away ;

Not e'en the color of his wall

Has changed beneath their endless sway.

He heeds them not, nor does he care,

But firm and sure his task fulfils ;
His make is strong — he 's born to bear,

Who stands — the Guardian of the Hills.

Not all of the verse was in this lofty strain, however;
and many of our clever young poets found in the subject,
we are glad to say, inspiration of an altogether different
sort. Their little poems showed a touch of humor, of
freakish fancy, or of homy sentiment that were all equally
deserving of praise. And as for the pictures, the League
pages this month fairly bristle with fun and jollity — especi-
ally in the photographs. But do not let their gaiety tempt
you to overlook the excellent prose essays sandwiched in
between the pictures and the rhymes.

PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 153

In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.

PROSE. Silver badges, Margaret M. Caskey (age 15), Morristown, N. J. ; Helen J. Barker (age 13), Melrose,

Mass. ; Eunice Eddy (age 15), Auburn, N. Y. ; jean E. Freeman (age 14), New York City; Marion Shedd (age 12),

Columbus, O. ; Mary Dixon-Welch (age 13), Columbia, Conn.

VERSE. Gold badge, Stanley Bonneau Reid (age 14), Oakdale, Cal.

Silver badges, Elizabeth Morrison Duffield (age 14), South Orange, N. J. ; Vernie Peacock (age 14), Rockford, 111.

DRAWINGS. Silver badges, Harry Sutton, Jr. (age 15), Salem, Mass.; Lucie C. Holt (age 12), Oak Lane, Pa.;

Frances M. E. Patten (age 12), Rockville Center, L. I. ; Jacob White (age 16), Brooklyn, N. Y.

PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badge, Margaret M. Benney (age 15), Sewickley, Pa.

Silver badges, Edmund Booth (age 16), Omaha, Neb. ; Ruth Coggins (age 13), Covington, Ind. ; Ellen Tooth Lacy

(age 9), St. Joseph, Mo. ; Alice Vernon (age 14), Portland, Me.

PUZZLE-MAKING. Gold badges, Ernest S. Crosby (age 14), Buffalo, N. V. ; Isidore Helfand (age 14), Cleveland, O.

Silver badge, Antoinette Mears (age 15), Portland, Ore.

PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badge, Albert Reynolds Eckel (age 16), St. Joseph, Mo.

'A FROLIC." BY MARY BELL IRVING, AGE 16.

"A FROLIC." BY CAROLYN ARCHBOLD, AGE 16.

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

THE SENTINEL

BY MARION E. STARK (AGE I/)

{Honor Member)
Upon a mighty mountain high

The chamois feed ;
Their haughty leader stands near by

To guard in need.

In yonder tow'ring, tapering tree

Are crows at rest ;
The feathered sentinel will see

That none molest.

A little child lies sound asleep

In whisp'ring grass ;
Her faithful collie watch doth keep

On all who pass.

'A FROLIC." BV MARGARET M. BENNEY, AGE 15. (GOLD BADGE.)

A valiant host, at set of sun,

Have pitched their tents ;
The lights gleam on the picket's gun

Who guards the regiments.

Where'er we turn, we find the brave.

On guard they stand, —
On guard against the wretch and knave,

With ready hand.

'T is thus with bird, or beast, or man ;

They know the call
To help the weak, to guard their clan.

For the Father of them all.

MY FAVORITE HEROINE IN HISTORY—
AND WHY

BY MARGARET M. CASKEY (AGE 1 5)

{Silver Badge)
My favorite heroine ! Shall I tell you what I see when
I read those words ? I see a peaceful French village :
I see a peasant girl tending her flocks in the field ; I
hear her telling of a vision she has had, of voices she
hears which bid her to deliver France from the yoke
of the hated English. I see the villagers mocking and
ridiculing, but the maiden stands firm.

The scene changes. I see the French court. In the
midst stands the Dauphin, and at his feet kneels the
peasant girl. Clad in man's armor, she leads him forth

to battle, and brings him home victorious ; she walks
with him in his coronation procession, and then, having
completed her heaven-directed mission, she prepares to
return to her native village. But the king begs her to
stay, and she consents, although she longs for peace.

Then I see her in the power of the English, before a
merciless tribunal. I see her trapped and snared into
contradicting herself, and finally condemned to die by
fire.

I see her standing on the scaffold, in the midst of a
sea of hostile faces, alone, deserted by those for whom
she is giving her life, yet firm and steadfast.

O "Maid of Orleans," deliverer of France in her
darkest hour, to you we give all homage and honor, who
left home and kindred for what you considered your
divine mission ; who were not disobedient unto the
heavenly vision, even when death was sure to be the
penalty ; and who, in the end, did not hesitate to offer
on the altar of France your own life, that your nation
might live.

MY FAVORITE HERO IN HISTORY— AND WHY

BY HELEN J. BARKER (AGE 1 3)

{Silver Badge)
My favorite hero ? There have been so many men who
have been deemed heroes in the eyes of the public, that
it is hard to decide ; but I think that my favorite his-
torical hero has always been Abraham Lincoln. And
why? — But I will answer that later.

There is one picture of Lincoln that I have always
loved. It hangs in the Chandler School, and is a beau-
tiful photograph of the life-size statue of Lincoln which
stands in Lincoln Park, Chicago. The background of
the picture is made up of feathery bushes and trees,
so close to the statue that they almost touch it, ap-
pearing to form a canopy over the chair of the great
statesman. The sky just shows through the close shrub-
bery and above the shoulders of Lincoln, who stands
with head slightly bent and foot advanced, in the act of
delivering one of his famous speeches. It is a picture
that would make any American proud. For when can
the picture of Lincoln appear without causing Ameri-

"A FROLIC." BY EDMUND BOOTH, AGE [6. (SILVER BADGE.)

cans to admire it? Not for its beauty, certainly, for
though his eyes are beautiful, because they are so kind
and tender, his shoulders appear drooped, and his whole
figure awkward and ungainly. Not because he ever was
made a hero in the eyes of his country through military
fame, nor yet through great learning or inheritance.

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Nov.,

What Lincoln accomplished was done by himself and
through himself. And no man ever faced a greater task.
But Lincoln was admired for his perfect manhood.
He was beloved for his great kindness, and he was
made great through his unselfish devotion to his coun-
try. And these things combined make Lincoln my
favorite hero.

the war was over at last, when the people were begin-
ning to appreciate him, and he was looking forward to
a well-earned rest, he was suddenly taken away, dying a
martyr's death. The American people, yes, and the
whole world also, were plunged into grief at their loss.
There is but one man who answers to this descrip-
tion— Abraham Lincoln.

"A FROLIC." BY RUTH COGGINS, AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.)

ON GUARD

BY ELSIE P. MURPHY (AGE 16)

He stands in the midst of traffic's full tide,
A tower of strength for the weak and the old ;

His keen, watchful eye is ever alert,

And heedless he seems of sunshine or cold.

His uplifted hand brings all to a stop,

And great, puffing monsters of iron and steel

Respond to his call, as he pilots across

The timid who tremble at hoof and at wheel.

You may speak of the soldier who stands at his post,
And nobly he does his duty, and well. —

The policeman on guard for the law and the home.
Is a much greater blessing, as many can tell.

MY FAVORITE HERO IN HISTORY— AND WHY

BY EUNICE EDDY (AGE 1 5)

(Silver Badge)
There have been many heroes in the ranks of history,
men who have fought and died for home and country,
men who have had great intellect and high education,
and who have done great deeds, but, to my mind, one
stands out as the greatest of them all.

He is an American, a man who was born of a humble
Kentucky family. When a boy, he had an insatiable
desire for learning, and he also had, what was more,
ideals which were high and noble. He became a lawyer
and an ardent foe of the great evil which had become
rooted in our land — slavery. He was elected to be
President of the United States. His administration
came at a time when our country was torn in conflict,
when it needed a guiding hand, and that guidance was
given by this man. Quiet and unobtrusive, he stood at
the helm and led the nation to peace and justice. When

MY FAVORITE HERO IN
HISTORY— AND WHY

BY MARY DIXON-WELCH (AGE 1 3)

(Silver Badge)
There are so many great men in
history that it is very hard to
choose a favorite, but the one I
admire most is General "Stone-
wall" Jackson.

He had a heart as tender as it
was stout, faith that never failed,
and the unspoiled simplicity of a
child.

He was a poor boy and an or-
phan, and began his career as a
worker in Cummins Jackson's
mill. While he worked steadily
there, he was diligently trying to
"get an education."

No officer in the army in Mex-
ico was promoted so often for
meritorious conduct, or made so
great a stride in rank.
He carried into every detail of daily existence the
military law of wisdom and fidelity, but he was ag-
gressive in nothing. His reverence for women was
deep and unfeigned, he was gentleness itself to little
children, and all that he had and was, belonged first to
God, and then to his wife.

From the first victory of Manassas, until he was
mortally wounded by his own men, Stonewall Jackson

was the flashing
star that guided
the Confederate
army to glorious
success.

When his bri-
gade halted on the
march to Manas-
sas, long after
dark, an aide
asked Jackson if a
guard should not
be set. Jackson
replied, "Let the
men sleep. I will
do guard duty."
All through the
long watches of
the night he stood,
a solitary sentinel.
I do not think
there could be a
more heroic theme
in history to write
on than Stonewall
Jackson standing guard over the soldiers who were soon
to make his name immortal. When told that he was
dying, he received the news with perfect calmness, and
said he preferred God's will to his own.

Jackson's courage, determination, and faith have
made him my favorite hero in history.

BY ELLEN TOOTH LACY,
(SILVER BADGE.)

igi2.]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

BY MARGARET DART, AGE l6.

BY ALICE VERNON, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)

BY WILLIAM S. BIDDLE, AGE II.

BY RALPH INGERSOLL, AGE II

BY E. EDWIN WEIBEL, AGE 15.

BY EVERSLEY S. FERRIS, AGE 12

BY LOUISE M. FULLER, AGE 17.

'A FROLIC

SENTINELS

BY RACHEL LYMAN FIELD (AGE 1 7)

{Honor Member)
When darkness comes, and in the sky
The moon glides calmly, like a shepherdess,
Guiding the stars, her straying sheep,
Across the quiet meadows of the sky ;
And far below, among the hills,
The lights of a small village twinkle forth,
The white church spire rises through the trees,
In the pale light it gleams, a slender shaft ;
And far above, like ponderous giant forms,
The dark, grim mountains stretch mysteriously —
Majestic sentinels who guard the sleeping town.

MY FAVORITE HEROINE IN HISTORY—
AND WHY

BY JEAN E. FREEMAN (AGE 1 4)

(Silver Badge)
My favorite heroine in history is Joan of Arc, and it is
not so difficult to tell why, for the dauntless spirit of
the maid has inspired many to reverence her.

The theme of her bravery is an old one, but I admire
her not only for her fearlessness, but for her absolute
trust in God, for her perfect courage while facing the
condemning judges, and for the spirit with which she
even met death itself.

Hers was always a truth-loving and upright char-
acter, full of justice and strength, and under the mask

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Nov.,

of meekness and patience lay concealed courage and a
noble spirit which would have graced any man.

To me she is a very far-away mythological figure, this
little maid of Domremy, and somehow I can never

"ON THE SQUARE." BY HARRY SUTTON, JR., AGE 15.
(SILVER BADGE.)

dream of her as the dauntless Joan whose name passes
with awe from lip to lip, but always as the gray-eyed
mistress of the flocks, dreaming and listening on the
verdant hillsides of France.

MY FAVORITE HERO IN HISTORY— AND WHY

BY MARGARET E. BEAKES (AGE 1 7)

(Honor Member)
No one would be quicker than he himself — tall, awk-
ward, homely, unpolished in manner and speech — to
object to having the name Abraham Lincoln classed as
that of a hero. But since Lincoln's day, to Americans
at least, the word hero does not always bring to the
mind the picture of a man young, good to look upon,
a leader of men ; gallant, daring, the idol of his follow-
ers, a figure about which innumerable romances are
woven. Many Americans have, as I have, taken for
their favorite among heroes, Abraham Lincoln, the man
from the poor, uneducated classes who, by strength of
character and endurance, won for himself an education
and pulled himself up, little by little, to the highest
honor which the United States offers her sons.

From a long line of heroes, brave men and true, I
have chosen him because, with such small opportunities,
he lived his life so well — as rail-splitter, storekeeper,
lawyer, debater, President.

We honor him the more because, saddened as he was
by the war which threatened to divide the country, he
always had a kind word, a smile, or a jest for those he
met. Because no matter how busy, he never refused
help where his help was needed. And though worn
with the affairs of a nation which was torn with civil
strife, he yet found time to see that his countrymen
received whatever of justice and mercy he could give
them.

The United States is honored in having had Abraham
Lincoln for a President.

ON GUARD

BY ELIZABETH PRATT (AGE II)

A mother bird sat on her nest,

Guarding her babies, who were at rest ;

Those baby birds will never fear,

Under the wings of their mother dear.

There she sat, as brave as could be,

While the wind shook the slender tree ;

But the mother bird sat still, her wings outspread

To cover her babies in their warm bed.

She nestled closer in her nest,

And her babies drew nearer to her breast.

How the wind whistled, the storm was hard,

But there sat the mother bird — on guard !

MY FAVORITE HERO IN HISTORY— AND WHY

BY EVA PRENTICE JAMISON (AGE 15)

There are many heroes in history whom I greatly ad-
mire, but my favorite is Robert E. Lee.

I do not love and admire him for his military genius
alone, but for his courage, his unselfishness, his mod-
esty, and his gentle, generous nature.

He was always cheerful, and full of love, sympathy,
and kindness. When a boy, he was the comfort of his
mother, who was an invalid and a widow. An incident,
small in itself but illustrative of his compassionate
character, occurred during one of his fiercest battles.
When shot and shell were falling all around, and he
was in danger of being killed any moment, he stooped
and picked up a young bird which had fallen to the
ground, and, walking to a tree, put it on a limb in a
place of safety.

He was not ambitious. He never thought of his own
glory, but always did what he thought best for his
country's welfare. He always did his duty.

After the war was over and Lee had sworn never
again to bear arms against the United States, he did not

A HEADING FOR NOVEMBER. BY LUCIE C. HOLT, AGE 12.

(SILVER BADGE.)

cherish bitter feelings against the North, though he re-
mained a prisoner on parole until his death. Nor did
he try to draw himself away from the government. In-
stead, he did all he could to help reestablish the Union.

Lee was always fearless, hopeful, and persevering.

He was a man of high principles, and of devout reli-
gious faith, pure in thought and deed.

igi2.]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

ON GUARD

BY ELIZABETH MORRISON DUFFIELD (AGE 14)

{Silver Badge)

Ever and always the sea gazes longingly at the shore ;

It washes against the sandy beach and the stones, with
a muffled roar ;

It swishes and gurgles gleefully in the calm of a sum-
mer's night,

But the wind springs up, the skies grow dark, then 't is
a thing of might.

It hurls its walls of water 'gainst the vanguard of the
land,

Those cruel green walls of water naught human can
withstand ;

It pounds its heavy cannonade against the fickle sands,

Which change and shift and mingle, as the tide flows
over the lands.

"A HEADING FOR NOVEMBER." BY MARGARET COUTY, AGE 16.
(HONOR MEMBER.)

But we have an army mighty, to resist the sea's attack,
A mighty army and sturdy, to force the wild sea back ;
They never flinch nor waver, steady and strong are they,
Their age-long vigil keeping from morn 'till break

of day.
The waves may beat upon them, the spray may o'er

them dash,
But still they stand, as giants, awaiting a mighty crash.
Ever and always the sea gazes longingly at the land,
But forever on guard the great brown rocks, like silent

sentinels, stand.

MY FAVORITE HERO IN HISTORY— AND WHY

BY MARION SHEDD (AGE 12)

(Silver Badge)
There are many heroes of war who are honored the
world over. While many are famous because of their
bravery in struggles against tyranny, many are great
simply because of their wonderful military power, and
not their motives.

My ideal is a hero of peace — Robert Louis Steven-
son. He was a man who had to fight against poor
health all his life, and yet he did not become sour and
unlovable, but made the world better, not only through
his books, but by his life and deeds. Stevenson the
author is no greater than Stevenson the man.

He spent his boyhood in his native country, Scotland,
and it is there that in childhood he beguiled the long
hours by imagining himself in fairy-land, or hunting,
sailing, and fighting, while in bed or by the fire.

But the climate did not agree with his health, and for
many years he traveled through France, America, and
the British Isles.

Finally, he went to the Samoan Islands. All the lat-
ter part of his life was spent there, and there he wrote
Vol. XL.— 12.

his best books. He gained wide knowledge of the
people he saw by making notes in a book which he had
with him constantly, and from memories of his child-
hood.

In the Samoan Islands he acted as missionary and
friend to the ignorant savages. So much did they love
him that they dug a road which he had wanted.

This is the man who, with all his troubles, could say :

The world is so full of a number of things
I am sure we should all be as happy as kings.

Who really did the most — Napoleon, forcing nations
into subjection, or Stevenson, leaving something better
than territory?

MY FAVORITE HEROINE IN HISTORY—
AND WHY

BY MURIEL AVERY (AGE 1 7)

(Honor Member)
She was not a queen of ancient time, my favorite
heroine in history. Her noble deeds are still fresh in
the hearts of the whole world. The veteran, thinking
of bloody battle-fields, sees again that quiet figure mov-
ing from cot to cot in the field hospital, feels a soothing
hand upon his heated brow, and murmurs, with uncov-
ered head, her name, "Clara Barton." She was "the
angel of the battle-field" to them. During sixteen of
the fiercest battles in the Civil War, she stayed at the
front, following fearlessly in the wake of smoke and
powder, caring for the wounded, nursing the sick, and
comforting the dying.

Then, having spent four years, at the close of the
war, among prisons and unidentified graves in a search
for missing soldiers, she went to Europe, completely
broken down in health. But scarcely had she settled
there, when the Red Cross Society sought her aid in the
Franco-Prussian War. Here the greatness of her na-
ture was shown, for she consented, and again entered

'ON THE SQUARE.

BY FRANCES M. E. PATTEN, AGE 12.
(SILVER BADGE.)

those scenes of horror — a strain which resulted in a
long and severe illness.

It was here that she first became interested in the
Red Cross work, and that she promised to give the re-
mainder of her life, if necessary, in bringing America to
signing the Red Cross treaty.

Hers was a life of unselfishness, spent in the service

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Nov.,

of others. Wherever calamity fell upon a people, there
she took her stand. Nor did her influence cease with
the close of her life, for the American Red Cross So-
ciety now carries out the humane work to which she
devoted her life, and will stand forever as a memorial
to one of America's greatest women.

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.

UEAD

ING-YE

MONTU

NOVEMBER

"A HEADING FOR NOVEMBER." BY JACOB WHITE, AGE l6.
(SILVER BADGE.)

ON GUARD

BY VERNIE PEACOCK (AGE 14)

(Silver Badge)
He stood there like a martyr, just inside the nurs'ry
door,
And warned me not to make a bit of noise ;
So I stood right where I was, never moving, not an
inch,
Until, at last, I really found my voice.
'But why," I asked, "can't I come in? why do you keep
me out?"
He grinned the biggest grin that he could do ;
But though I asked the question 'bout a dozen times or
more,
This little "guard" would not tell what he knew.

Just then I started in, yes, inside that nursery door,

When all at once, he grabbed me by the arm ;
"I will not let you go in there !" he cried, in tragic
voice,
"I will not let you do my princess harm !"
"What did you say just then?" I asked with eyes that
twinkled bright,
And then he told me everything and all ;
:'Our princess lies inside," he said, in whispered tones
so low,
"And must not be awakened, 'cause she 's small.

"And so my mama put me here to watch her till she
wakes.
And she said not to let a person in ;
And so I minded Mother dear, and watched our
princess sweet ;
And that is all," he ended, with a grin.
I grabbed this little mischief up, and kissed his
dimpled face ;
But just then something stirred, not very hard ; *
Then we both went in the room, and the little
"princess sweet"
Held out her tiny arms to her small "guard."

PROSE, 1

Constance Pritchett
Lulie Westfeldt
Richard Cooch
Eliza A. Peterson
Margaret Briggs
John J. Hanighen
Virginia Gohn
Elizabeth Macdonald
Dorothy M. Rogers
Winifred S. Stoner, Jr.
Mary C. Williams
Eleanor S. Cooper
Selma Brenner
Willard Purinton
Rose Sigal
Fredrika W. Hertel
Lydia S. Chapin
Mary Frost
Eugene W. De Kalb
Yvonne Tomes
Margaret Pratt
Marie H. Taylor
Doris Rowell
Emily L. Talbert
Elmer H. Van Fleet
Thyrza Weston
Lucile Luttrell
Jacob Feld
Maureen G. Husband
Tilton Singer
Annie F. Napier
Martha L. Clark
Thais Plaisted
lone Cocke
Mary E. Van Fossen
Eleanor Hussey
Clara Holder
Ellen W. Warren
Beatrice Brown
Elsie Terhune
James M. Israel
Marjorie E. Logie
Nathaniel Dorfman
Henry W. Hardy
Evelyn Frost

Rhoma Phipps
William W. Ladd
Vivian E. Hall
Mary V. Farmer
Lile E. Chew
Susan Nevin
Rebecca Marshall
Julia M. Herget
Edgar Gibbs
Dorothy Robathan
Elsie M. Stevens
Dorothy M. Russell
Mary Dawson
Jessie M. Thompson
James Sheean
Edith M. Levy
Katharine B. Nesmith
Katherine Bull
Alice Lee Tully
Miriam Goodspeed
Ruth B. Brewster

PROSE, 2

Ruth Wineland
Isabel Tovey
Lillias Armour
Fannye L. Rich
Mary E. Taggart
Florence Patton
Jane Morgenthau
Julia Sherman
Marion Twitchell
Elizabeth B. Bratton
Myrtle Doppmann
Edyth Walker
Alma Rosenzi
Florence Gallagher
Elsie Daubert
Louise S. May
Paulyne F. May
Jack Jackson
Sophie H. Duvall
Helen Gould
Mary Flaherty
Mary Daboll
Eleanor C. Bates

Eleanora M. Bell
Clifford Furnas
Edna Hauselt
Nathan Willensky
Edward W. Dann, Jr.
Estella Johnson
Elizabeth W. Gates
Margaret McCusker
Eleanore Maule
Margaret Burkett
Blanche Laub
Margaret C. Packer
Cordelia Cox
Marion Ward
Gertrude H. Ressmeyer
Jeannette Fellheimer
Eldora Ellsworth
Helen A. Dority
Lillian Martin
Louise M. Bamberg
Alison Laing
Margaret Long
Doris G. Tipton
Naomi Lauchheimer
Lucy Somerville
Hazel K. Sawyer
Dorothea Brammer
George F. Milliken
Katherine Read
Gjems Fraser
Elizabeth C. Walton
Elizabeth Finley
Gertrude Rucker
Donald Wogaman
Drummond Jones
Esther Carpenter
Frieda E. Haden

VERSE, 1

Pauline P. Whittlesey
Eva Albanesi
Janet Hepburn
Lucile E. Fitch
Albert R. Eckel
Marian Shaler
Rebecca K. Merrill

"ON THE SQUARE." BY BEATRICE WINELAND, AGE 14.

Mary Porter
Eleanore Leete
Sarah B. Randolph
Daniel B. Benscoter
Martha H. Comer
Alexina Haring
Louise Stuerm
Vera Bloom
Helen G. Rankin
Eleanor King Newell
Evelyn G. Pullen
Francis C. Hanighen
Margaret G.
Weatherup

D. Grace Ziegler
James F. Whelan
Katharine Hall
Anita Delafield
James E. Macklin, 2d
Hilda Mabley
Louise Northrup
Margaret Pennewell
Lazare Chernoff
Anna Schein
Marjorie M. Carroll
Alfred Valentine
Catalina Ferrer
Frances E. Price

John C. Farrar
Helen P. Loudenslager
Bertha E. Walker
Mildred Willard
Helene M. Roesch
Josephine C. Wall
Louise K. Paine
M iriam F. Carpenter
Carol Marsh
Anita L. Grannis
Thelma Stillson
Josephine N. Felts
B. H. W. Cresswell
Mattie Hibbert

1912.]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

Laurencia Vradenburg
Winifred Birkett
Eleanor Sewall
Eleanor Collins
Margaret Finck
Howard Bennett
Ben Sleeper
Bruce T. Simonds
Josephine L. Livingood
Eleanor Johnson
Naomi E. Butler
Claire H. Roesch
Leslie Eagar
Lee Stephens
Renee Geoffrion
Hazel Roberts
Emanuel Farbstein
Vera B. Hall
Evelyn Dunham
Josephine Richards
Louise Cramer
Caroline F. Ware
Helen Tolles
Arthur H. Nethercot
Suzanne Bringier
Jennie W. Burton
Laura Hadley

VERSE, 2

Heather F. Burbury
Lloyd Dinkelspiel
Dorothy Hurminus
Ruby H. Keeney
Alice Trimble
Ambrose C. Duggar
Margaret C. Bland
Edith H. Walton
Elinor F. Hopkins
Byrona Larkelle
Grace Grimes
Julia Goetze
Edna Friedlander
Martha W. Stanford
Katherine Wogaman
Georgene Davis
Miriam Abrams
Evelyn Waterman
Ruth Hanchett
Evangeline Amsell
Eleanor Perkins
George Meistle
Margaret H. Benson
Katherine Pearse
Ruth Andrew
Frances S. Brown

DRAWINGS, i

William Burkley
S. Dorothy Bell
Katharine Reynolds
Nellie L. Leach
Leurs Yeomans
Frederick Agnew
Margaret F. Foster
Ida E. Kahan
Margaret Ager
Francis W. Wright
Thompson Blackburn
Margaret L. Ayer
Madeline Zeisse
Pauline Hatfield
Evelyn B. Sloat
Copeland Hovey
Kenneth Davis
Bennie Farbstein
Ellen Johnson
Courtenay W. Halsey
Katharine H. Seligman
Isabella B. Howland
Catharine M. Clarke
Marian Hoyt
Margaret P. Metcalfe
Horatio Rogers
Jean Davis
Jean E. Peacock
William Keevers
Stella Bloch
Raymond Gleeson
Gladys E. Mead
Margaret Jewell
Kelly S. Vaughan
Marjorie Flack
Howard R. Sherman

Jean Dorchester
A. Gordon Grove
Josephine Fisher
Chester W. Slack
Sarah F. Marimon
Rose G. Martin
Ruth S. Thorp

DRAWINGS, 2

Lucy Hunt
Lois C. Myers
Albin Y. Thorp
Mary McPheeters
Violet Roberts
Jennie E. Everden
Caryl Peabody
Hester B. Curtis
Elizabeth M . Brand
Margaret M.

McGregor
John Argens
Edward Lascher
Mildred Greenfield
Elizabeth Harter
Meredith Brown
Nellie Melrose
Malcolm E. Anderson
Caroline L. Ingham
Marguerite

Vandervoort
Lily Madan
Antoinette Van Liew
Wilfoi-d E. Yost
Caroline Lyder
Ellen B. Hindes
Esther Hopper
Bertha M. Tilton
Alice J. Longhran
Elsie Gouldberg
Isabella Cargill
Douglas Sprunt
Walter K. Frame
Adaline Kent
William H. Fry
Ruth E. Thompson
Esther Rosenthal
Janice Dunker
Marion B. Cook
Helen T. Stevenson
Aroline A. Beecher
Venette M. Willard
Elizabeth W. Clark, Jr.
Charles F. Patterson
Henrietta H. Henning
Oscar Banhan
Henrietta M. Archer
Lucile Means
Jessie E. Alison
Gladys Meldrum
Dorothy Curtis
Hayworth Michener
Helen D. Rohnert
Clara Leitman
Marie J. Cooke
Ruth Putnam
Helen Brown
Catheleen Trask
Ilia Williams
Mary Younglove
Frances Wait
Madeleine Marshall
Marcia E. Stewart
Norman A. Kelly
Cornelia Felix
Rebecca Johnson
Reba Goldstine
Edith Maurer

PHOTOGRAPHS, i

Edward De W. Wines
Willard Vander Veer
William P. Jacob
Lois Whitney
Ellen K. Hone
Clyde N. Kemery
W. Robert Reud
Esther R. Harrington
Princess Fanny

Hohenloke
Margaret G. Thomson
Miriam Hizar
Truin Eppstein
Gladys Smith

Elizabeth Phillips
Catherine Norris
Betty Humphreys
Genevieve Blanchard
Mary Everett
Katherine L. Guy
Hester M. Dickey
Gordon Snow

PHOTOGRAPHS, 2

Frances Pogue
Gertrude Mclnnes
Jessica B. Noble
Nancy Eggers
Louis Clark
Elizabeth K. Brown
Marion C. Holmes
Esther Detmer
Elizabeth Cains
Philbrick McCoy
Dorothy G. Schwarz
Catharine Tarr
Alice D. Shaw
Benjamin Alvord, Jr.
Betty M. Weaver
A. S. Weeks
Dorothy Hall
Alice Moore
Eleanor O. Doremus
Betty Comstock
Alice G. McKernon
Alice B. Eggleston
Elverton Morrison
Dorenda Maltby
John Rosenfield
Junior Scruton
Louis Joseph
Florence M. Seward
Ruth M. Simonds
Eliot J. Ward
Justus Wakelee
Helen M. MacDonald
Jean W. Wagner
Margaret Anderson
Allen Gray
Katherine Abbott
Leslie Gray
Judith V. Hanna
Elsie Apel
Eric H. Marks
Alpheus B. Stickney
Valerie Underwood
Sarah D. Roudebush
Priscilla D. Howard
Alexander M. Greene
Marion G. Peck
Margaret Powers

iulia F. Brice
•orothy Deming
Ruby Britts
Elizabeth C. Carter
Mary Barnett
Virginia P. Bradfield
Addie E. Smith
W. Coburn Seward
Frances M. Sweet
Elizabeth La Boyteaux

PUZZLES, i

Deborah Iddings
Edith Armstrong
Gustav Deichmann
Katharine K. Spencer
Margaret P. Spaulding
Gertrude Bendheim
Duncan Scarborough
Henry D. Knower
Isabel Conklin
Constance Griffith
Henrietta Archer
Elizabeth M. Brand
Margaret D. Kittinger
Rachel Souhami
Elizabeth P. Robinson
Fannie Ruley
Pearl Miller
Margaret P. Cooke
Edith Lucie Weart
Mary Fraim
Margaret Waddell
James Stanisewsky
Mary Bancroft
Margaret M. Horton

William Waller
Ruth Browne
Norah Heney
Robert Crawford
Louise D. Patterson
Helena A. Irvine

PUZZLES, 2

Warren W. Pierson
Marg't W. Billingham
Charles Pearson, Jr.

Margaret E. Herbert
Estella V. Johnson
Lucy E. Cooke
Alice Heyl
Horace Yeomans
May H. Doolittle
Mary H. West
Ruth Dorchester
Katharine Skinner
H. A. Moffat
Eva Garson
William Ehrich, Jr.

Alice Bell
Bessie Burch
Blanche W. Billstein
John D. Cooper
Helen West/all
Adele Chapin
Hannah Ruley
Sarah Y. Macklin
Mary L. Sperry
Rosetta Gilmour
Francis Westcott
Jamison D. Roberts

PRIZE COMPETITION No. 157

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. 157 will close November 10 (for
foreign members November 15). Prize announcements
will be made and the selected contributions published in
St. Nicholas for March.

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, " A Song of Home."

Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, " Luck and Work."

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "Caught."

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, " Ready for Winter," or a Heading for March.

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) willnot 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

A PIONEER PALACE CAR.

THE STORY OF THE PATH-MAKERS

The Hunters' Moon will still be hanging yellow
in the sky when you are reading this number of
St. Nicholas, so it is not yet quite time to turn
away from the adventurous life of the great
outdoor spaces to rooms and streets and trolley-
cars, and all the confinements of civilization. Or,
at least, if turn we must, since school and office
call back hunter and camper and sailor to desk
and bench, we may yet keep a hand stretched out
to the rough grip of nature, and a backward eye
on her nights of stars and days of lusty winds,
ripening orchards and reaped grain, yellow woods
and white-laced brown brooks running under the
dark pines.

Wherever in this broad land you may have
spent the summer and autumn, you have got
there with comparative ease. Trains have rolled
you over the vast plains or through the moun-
tains, have brought you to the open door of the
forest or the shores of lake or sea. If you went
into the wilderness, you passed through sweet
and flourishing farm districts and lively villages,
and even though you crossed the prairies that
roll up to the foot of the Rockies, you have seen
the irrigated land turned green and gold with
growing corn and hay.

But a little time ago, even as we human beings
count time, none of this was so. There were the
mountains and the plains, the forest and the
wilderness, and no way of getting across them
except by foot or on horseback, a perilous way,
fit only for the strongest and the most daring.

Thinking of these things as my train whirled
on its eastward journey, I remembered two books
that tell in graphic style the story of the change

— the wonderful change from the wild times of
the path-finders and path-makers to the present
day, with its Pullman cars flashing over the iron
roads, going farther in a day than it was possible
to go in a month when the wilderness was at
home all over the continent.

These two books are written by men who were
among the pioneers and adventurers who rode
the long and dangerous trails from East to West,
and who saw the whole great drama played out,
helping a deal in the playing— or, rather, the
fighting, for there was a considerable amount of
the latter and precious little of the former in the
whole big business from beginning to end.

These men are Colonel Henry Inman, U. S. A.,
and Colonel Cody, or "Buffalo Bill," whom you
have probably heard of before ; and the books
are "The Old Santa Fe Trail" and "The Old Salt
Lake Trail." The Salt Lake book has been writ-
ten by the two in collaboration, while the other
book is by Inman alone, with an introduction by
Buffalo Bill. They are big, fat books with many
illustrations, and they tell a tale as amazing and
exciting as it is true. Now, as you know well
that truth is stranger than fiction, you can form
some notion of just how stirring these volumes
are.

Here are told the great hardships, the high en-
deavor, the noble endurance, and the wild en-
chantment of that western life, a life so recently
passed away that its memory is distinct in the
minds of living men, and yet so utterly vanished
that it seems to have belonged to another age
than ours, or to be a romantic story told at twi-
light when the fancy plays.

Yet here are the pages written by the very
men who tramped and rode the desperate miles

BOOKS AND READING

across the continent, back and forth, meeting all
the perils of the trail, and escaping hardly with
more than their lives ; men who saw the vast
hordes of the buffalo and the tepees of the Indi-
ans disappear before the trapper, the hunter, and
the grazer, and these again vanish before the
farmer and the homesteader. Surely, in all the
story of this world's adventures, so much history
was never before packed into so short a space of
time.

It was in 1861 that the telegraph was finally
stretched from ocean to ocean, putting an end to
the famous Pony Express. And in 1880, that the
first train of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe
Railroad ran over the new rails and killed the
old trails. This was the beginning of the end,
the beginning of To-day, and our easy hurryings
over the routes mapped out by the pioneers.

In "The Old Santa Fe Trail" we follow the
tracks of Kit Carson, and many a story is told of
him, and of Dick Wootin and other famous scouts
and Indian fighters. There is a lot of fighting in
these pages, for Indian and white disputed every
step with the rifle and the scalping-knife — it was,
first of all, a war-path, this way across the country.

There seems to be no end to the number of
stories told in the two books. There is the Mexi-
can War, as it affected the scouts and trappers
and cavalry of the army; there is the great tale
of the first wagon expedition across the Divide
and the Plains, a record of amazing hardship
and grim endurance, in which the few who won
out were compelled to finish on foot, wagons and
baggage abandoned.

And oh, the hundreds of anecdotes of bear-
and beaver-trapping, deer- and buffalo-shooting !
It was the ruthless slaughter of the buffalo that
first aroused the hatred of the Sioux, or Dakotas,
which was the real name of the nation. These
Sioux, with the Comanches, became the terror of
the whites, and left a trail of blood behind them
as they were slowly driven back. The Pawnees
were troublesome too, but, on the whole, more
friendly. There is one story Buffalo Bill tells
of a Pawnee baby who was adopted by a Pony
Express rider, known by the name of Whipsaw,
which reveals the devotion of an Indian to his
friend. Whipsaw had rescued the three-year-old
child from a wicked-looking old Sioux warrior
who had stolen him from his own people, and
after that the boy would have nothing to do with
the redskins; in fact, he hated them, and never
lost a chance to do them harm.

In the end, the little boy, who was called Little
Cayuse, saved not only Whipsaw, but several
other Express riders from murder by the Sioux.
It is a good yarn, as you '11 find out in reading it.

The picture Buffalo Bill gives of these riders
is a wonderful one. The service was so danger-
ous that few men were willing to undertake it,
and of these scarcely one escaped quite unhurt.
The lightning speed at which they rode, the lone-
liness, the heat, cold, and drought they suffered,
are thrilling to read of. At any moment, as they
fled along, an enemy might rise up, a shot whistle
past — not always past ! Then, after the mail-
bags were tossed to the waiting rider at the next
post, who immediately started at full gallop, the
drop into a sleep of utter exhaustion, rolled in a
blanket on the floor of the cabin.

There are, especially in "The Old Salt Lake

f^em.n^ton

A MOUNTAIN HUNTER.

Trail," a number of Indian legends and beliefs,
and much concerning their customs, both in their
tribal life, and when they came into contact with
the intruding white men. Tales, too, that were
told at night by the old scouts and trappers as
they sat smoking round the fire. One of the
most famous of these men was known as "Old
Hatcher," and we hear one of his stories as he
sits "under the silvery pines, with the troops of
stars overhead," one of a group of buckskin-clad
men, speaking in his western dialect, with telling
gestures, his pipe always in his mouth, and his
eyes fixed, with a far-away look, on some glow-
ing spot in the fire as though he were seeing the
scenes and adventures he described.

There is a good deal told of General Sherman,
and of the great task of building the Union Pa-

BOOKS AND READING

cific. With the last spike driven in that road,
the Salt Lake Trail followed the Santa Fe out of
existence.

Buffalo Bill tells many of his own adventures
as a scout for the United States Army, and anec-
dotes of the many officers he met in that capacity.

WHERE AN EMIGRANT TRAIN HAD PASSED.

Another wonderful story is that of the creation
of the Overland Stage Route. The coaches were
huge, swinging affairs, drawn by six horses or
mules, the finest to be had, and these were usually
driven at a gallop over the rough trails and
breakneck descents. They went as fast as a hun-
dred miles a day, the horses being changed every
ten miles at the roadside houses. The drivers of
these stages were men of character and of a
dare-devil bravery. Adventure was the order of
the day, and not a driver among them but had his
score and more to relate. Hold-ups were com-
mon, for the stages went almost as heavily loaded
with gold as with passengers, on many of their
trips. What rides they must have been ! The
towering mountains, the wild canon road between
the pine-covered slopes, the beautiful horses go-

ing at full tilt, with the heavy coach swaying be-
hind them, its little group of travelers on top, the
driver swinging his long whip, the conductor,
who was responsible for the mail, looking out,
gun in hand— then, suddenly, two or three
mounted desperadoes barring the route !

Many a rough joke these wild men played, and
many a harrowing deed is recorded of them and
of their enemies. Many a foolhardy risk they took,
and many an act of gentleness and kindness is
"chalked up" to them. They were much like chil-
dren, simple and natural, taking things as they
came, and loving adventure like boys. The life
they lived has no place in our civilization, but it
was fine and manly for all its faults. Without
men of their caliber we should scarcely have sub-
dued the West, turning the wilderness into the
granary of the world, and opening the golden
mountains for their wealth. Thanks to them,
peace has come now, and the wild miles are sweet
and smiling.

If you want a true notion of how America
grew to be what she is, and desire to see at first-
hand the men, or some of them, who had a hand
in this growth, you cannot do better than read
these two books. As for interest and excitement,
you won't fail to find plenty. But the fact that
the stories are thrilling does not make them the
less true, which is one of the comforts of life.
It is history — but it is adventure too ! It is as
valuable as it is thrilling. The settling of the
West had many phases, but here we get the be-
ginning of them all, "that first fine, careless rap-
ture" we never can recapture, and which belongs
to youth, to first times, and the beginnings of
things, and is usually lost in what follows.

Perhaps, while you read in the dark November
evenings, the wind will shriek in the windows,
rattling the blinds, until it seems to you that you
hear the war-cry of the Sioux and the clatter of
horses' feet. Snuggle down more closely by the
fire, and turn the pages. It is only fancy now—
but fifty years ago . . . !

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER

Geographical Primal Acrostic. Martin Van Buren. Cross-
words : i. Maine. 2. Aiken. 3. Rhine. 4. Tunis. 5. Indus. 6.
Nubia. 7. Volga. 8. Andes. 9. Natal. 10. Banff. 11. Utica. 12
Rhone. 13. Essex. 14. Negro.

Word-Squares. I. 1. Brine. 2. Rosin. 3. Islet. 4. Niece. 5
Enter. II. 1. Maple. 2. Again. 3. Paint. 4. Liner. 5. Entry.

Triple Beheadings and Curtailings. Abraham Lincoln. Cross
words: 1. Ant-arc-tic. 2. Bar-bar-ism. 3. Int-rod-uce. 4. Adv-ant
age. 5. Arc-hit-ect. 6. Imp-art-ial. 7. Geo-met-ric. 8. Abo-lit-ion
9. Fus-ill-ade. 10. Hyp-not-isin. n. Chi-can-ery. 12. Abs-orb-ent
13. Col-lea-gue. 14. Mag-net-ize.

Zigzag. Thomas Moore. Cross-words: 1. Tangle. 2. Chisel. 3
Clover. 4. Primal. 5. Appear. 6. Famous. 7. Column. 8. Choose.
9. Closet. 10. Prison. 11. Emerge.

Illustrated Novel Acrostic Reynolds, Lawrence. Cross

words :
Lance.

1. Ruler.
7. Ducks.

Eland.
Sheep.

3. Yawls. 4. North. 5. Opera.

Numerical Enigma. " How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to
have a thankless child."

Persian Pi.

'An untried friend is like an uncracked nut."

Bushel.

Double Diagonal. Bryant, Lowell. Cross-words : ]
Creole. 3. Gayety. 4. Reward. 5. Iodine, 6. Linnet.

Connected Squares and Diamonds. I. 1. M. 2. Lad. 3.
Mania. 4. Din. 5. A. II. 1. Inane. 2. Newel. 3. Award. 4.
Nerve. 5. Elder. III. 1. S. 2. Woe. 3. Solar. 4. Eat. 5. R.
IV. 1. T 2. Rot. 3. Total. 4. Tax. 5. L. V. 1. Trait. 2.
Raise. 3. Aisle. 4. Islet. 5. Teeth. VI. 1. E. 2. End. 3. En-
voy. 4. Dot. 5. Y.

Cross-word Enigma. Constitution.

Syncopated Central Acrostic. Vassar College. Cross-words:
1. Re(v)el. 2. Ch(a)in. 3. Pa(s)te. 4. Li(s)ps. 5. St(a)ir. 6.
Fa(r)ce. 7. Vi(c)es. 8. St(o)op. 9. Co(l)on. 10. So(l)ar. 11.
Br(e)ad. 12. Re(g)al. 13. Sp(e)ar.

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 August Number were received before August 10 from Albert Reynolds Eckel — " Queenscourt."

Answers to Puzzles in the August Number were received before August 10 from L. C. Holmes, 9 — George S. Cattanach, 9 — "Dixie
Slope," 9 — Harmon B., James O., and Glen T. Vedder, 8 — Theodore H. Ames, 8 — Edith H. Heymann, 7 — Dorothy B. Goldsmith, 8 — Gertrude
M. Van Home, 6 — Joseph B. Kelly, 6 — Phyllis Brooks, 5 — Eleanor O'Leary, 3 — Virginia Beggs, 2.

Answers to one Puzzle were received from L. S.— E. T— R. C— R. T.— J. D.— K. K. S.— F. L. K.— C. A. H.— A. R. F.— D. R.

SQUARES CONNECTED BY DIAMONDS

(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)

00 ***** 000
000*****00000

000000*****000000

0
0

Upper Left-hand Diamond: i. In Telemachus. 2.
Quick of apprehension. 3. Cognizant. 4. A variety of
dog. 5. To quaver. 6. A snake-like fish. 7. In Tele-
machus.

Upper Square: i. An Eastern salutation. 2. Old
womanish. 3. Lawful. 4. To arrange in a line. 5.
Measures.

Upper Right-hand Diamond
A fishing bob. 3. A large pill
sandals. 5. An engraver's tool,
machus.

Left-hand Square: i. The Mohammedan evil spirit.
2. A newly married woman. 3. Utmost extent. 4. An
imbecile. 5. A conflict in boxing.

Central Diamond: i. In Telemachus. 2. A writing-
instrument. 3. Puzzled. 4. A cube of marble used in
mosaic work. 5. In great want. 6. Parched. 7. In
Telemachus.

1. In Telemachus. 2.
4. Mercury's winged
7. In Tele-

6. Crime.

Right-hand Square: i. To frighten. 2. To sing joy-
fully. 3. Fragrance. 4. A famous people. 5. The Cape
elk.

Lower Left-hand Diamond: i. In Telemachus. 2.
To bore into. 3. Rum distilled from a low grade of mo-
lasses. 4. A silken fabric. 5. A fragment. 6. Con-
sumed. 7. In Telemachus.

Lower Square: i. Manila hemp. 2. A household
article. 3. A large artery. 4. Cottages. 5. To gather.

Lower Right-hand Diamond: i. In Telemachus. 2.
To imitate. 3. A perfume made from roses. 4. Desti-
tute of wings. 5. In good season. 6. A beam of light.
7. In Telemachus. ernest s. crosby (age 14).

THANKSGIVING PI

Adepeh ni het loshwol fo eth evrog, teh unutma saveel

eli edad,
Yeth ulsret ot het dyendig stug, dan ot eth tribsab dater.

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 great statesman, and
through the third and fourth columns the name of a
famous general.

Cross-words: i. To decrease. 2. A city famous for
its tower. 3. Part of the face. 4. Besides. 5. An is-
land. 6. Rescue. 7. Fasten. 8. Thin. 9. Hooks used
on steam-engines. 10. A musical part. 11. A river in
Italy. 12. A girl's name. 13. Weakens. 14. A famous
volcano. 15. Used in a boat. 16. An insect. 17. Level.

ANTOINETTE MEARS (age 15).

THE RIDDLE-BOX

ILLUSTRATED DIAGONAL,

If the pictured words are written one below another,
the diagonal, beginning at the upper left-hand letter,
spells the name of a famous explorer. e. r. b.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA

My whole consists of seventy-nine letters and forms a
quotation from Walter Scott.

My 29-50-12-51-42 is ground. My 5-59-70-1 1 is
part of a fork. My 21-23-24-45-13 is a dwelling. My
1 7-65-14-6 is a Biblical character. My 43-37-34-2-64
is obtained from Africa. My 15-36-40-4-76 is what
gold is. My 48-19-67-7-31 is subjected to a pecuniary
penalty. My 63-54-61-78-25-69 is chiefly. My 1-46-
22-72 is of the highest excellence. My 8-16-35-28 is
by the sea. My 58-75-30-39-20-10 is the fireside. My
74-71-26-57 is immense. My 66-73-56-9-49 is a di-
mension. My 33-41-32 is in what condition. My 62-
18-55-53-60 is pertaining to a country in Europe. My
52-27-63-3 is a place we love. My 44-38-79-77-47 is
often given as a prize.

winthrop slade, jr. (age n), League Member.

CONCEALED SQUARE WORD

{One word is concealed in each couplet")
If you can't settle where to buy,
For umpire Stephen we will try.

A shop in every street you '11 find
With bargain sales just to your mind.

A suit like yours so warm and light
So nice and trig I 'd buy at sight.

There goes the sun ; I tell you, friends,
That heavy cloud a shower portends.

For shopping I 'm no more inclined,
Some destination we must find.

Helen A. Sibley.

QUINTUPLE BEHEADINGS AND CURTAILINGS

(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
Example : Quintuply behead and curtail prescience, and
leave the present time. Answer, forek-now-ledge.

In the same way behead and curtail: 1. Causing un-
easiness, and leave a conjunction. 2. Support, and leave
a fragment of cloth. 3. Pertaining to a crystalloid, and
leave every one. 4. Improper administration, and leave
a horse. 5. One of the United States, and leave a vehi-
cle. 6. The act of sparkling, and leave sick. 7. The art
of the actor, and leave a male child. 8. One skilled in

arithmetic, and leave joined. 9. Belonging to Lent, and
leave era. 10. Pertaining to type, and leave to strike.
11. Impairments through neglect, and leave a feminine
name. 12. That which is brought back into a country
from which it was taken, and leave a fragment. 13.
Concerning different nations, and leave a masculine
nickname.

When correctly guessed, and written one below an-
other, the primals of the remaining three-letter words
will spell the name of a famous American general.

ISIDORE HELFAND (age 14).

ADDITIONS

Example : To a beast of burden add to be the matter
with, and make to attack. Answer : ass-ail.

1. To an animal add to bite, and make an aromatic
plant. 2. To strike add a pronoun, and make to this
place. 3. To an insect add an edge, and make a song
of praise. 4. To decay add a number, and make un-
sound. 5. To a ballad add human beings, and make the
laity. 6. To part of the head add a pronoun, and make
terrestrial. 7. To the ocean add a male child, and make
a division of the year. 8. To confine water add a period,
and make injury. 9. To a tavern add devoured, and
make natural. 10. To a vehicle add to caress, and make
a floor covering. 11. To a young goat add a doze, and
make to steal a human being. 12. To the termination
add part of the head, and make to make beloved. 13.
To a negative word add to freeze, and make to observe.
14. To a luminary add to place, and make a time of day.
When correctly guessed and written one below an-
other, the primals of the resulting six-letter words made
will spell the name of a famous novelist.
edith pierpont stickney (age 13), Honor Member.

ILLUSTRATED PRIMAL ACROSTIC

In this puzzle the words (of unequal length) are pic-
tured instead of described. When rightly guessed, and
written one below another, the primals spell the name
of a famous institution.

charles m. alford (age 9), League Member.

THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

"The

Beautiful

Rests

on the

Foundations

of the

Necessary"

There are certain things
which are necessary not
only to the foundation of
beauty but to its preservation,
and without which beauty is
imperfect and unenduring.
The first of these necessaries
is a soap that will protect the skin from the impairing
influences of climate and atmosphere, and keep the
complexion of a velvety softness and a sweet, peach-
like bloom. The only soap that fully and completely
answers these requirements is

Pears' Soap

which is both a skin soap and a beauty soap.
It penetrates to the foundations of beauty, and gives that
natural stimulative force that keeps the skin in healthy action,
without which the color fades and the cheeks become sallow.

The Great English Complexion Soap

'A 11 rights secured ' '

OF ALL SCEMTED SOAPS PEARS' OTTO OF ROSE IS THE BEST

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Write today —
it's worth your while

You may be one of those who are looking for a dentifrice that is pleasant
to use as well as efficient. If you are, send us 2 cents in stamps and we will
mail you .a generous trial tube of Colgate's Ribbon Dental Cream — the
dentifrice without a "druggy" taste.

You will be as pleased with the delicious flavor as with the sense of
wholesome cleanliness it gives your mouth.

Ribbon Dental Cream checks decay-germs, corrects excessive acidity and
cleans the teeth thoroughly and safely.

Ask mother to get you a tube — or send us 2c. in stamps for a generous
trial tube. Ask for "The Jungle Pow-Wow" too, for your little brother
or sister — a funny animal rhyme book with colored pictures. It's free.

COLGATE & CO. Dept. 60 199 Fulton Street, New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

What Cora Manning Says.

"And, oh, Jack! we're out of Jell-O again. Order a dozen and bring a package
of Strawberry Jell-O with you. The Mannings are coming for dinner and Cora
Manning says there 's nothing so lovely as my

desserts. "

The Mannings and their friends, like other sensible people who
can afford expensive luxuries, do not deprive themselves of good things
because they are cheap.

The charm of the Jell-O dessert is felt in every home, and it only
costs ten cents!

Plain but delicious desserts and elaborate and delicious desserts
are made of Jell-O — and most of them can be made in a minute.

There are seven delightful Jell-O flavors : Strawberry, Raspberry,
Lemon, Orange, Cherry, Peach, Chocolate.

10 cents each at any grocer's.

If you will write and ask us for it we will send
you the splendid recipe book, " DESSERTS OF
THE WORLD," illustrated in ten colors and gold.

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.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

jfrankUn Simon & Go.

FIFTH AVENUE, 37th and 38th Streets, NEW YORK
Misses' and Girls' House Robes

No. 23 — Hand embroidered, imported Jap-
anese Quilted Silk Gown, in navy, light
blue, red, old rose, or pink, lined with silk in
contrasting color, fastened with silk frogs,

cord, and tassel ; 4, 6, and 8 years

10 and 12 years

14, 16, and 18 years

6.95
7.95
9.75

No. 25 — Crepon Eiderdown Wrapper m

red, light blue, or pink, trimmed with satin to

match ; 2 to 4 years

6 to 10 years

12 to 20 years

No. 25A— Hand-made Slippers of pink or
blue silk Dresden ribbon, lined with silk. . .

No. 27 — Imported Japanese Silk Quilted Gown, in navy, 4 to 8 years. .
light blue, pink, red, or old rose, lined with silk in con- 10 to 12 years
trasting color, fastened with silk frogs, cord, and tassel; 14 to 18 years

1.85
2.50
3.25

1.95

4.95
6.95
7.95

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Every Stitch Guaranteed

J!?This for Six Months!

Hosiery «

Buy HOLEPROOF Hose. Every stitch is guaranteed, not just the
heels and toes. Every six pairs must wear SIX MONTHS or you get
new hose FREE. Why put up with hose that wear out in two weeks
when there are hose like these? They cost just as much as you pay for

"Holeproof." Thus "Holeproof" are cheaper because

they last longer.

We pay an average of 70 cents
a pound for the cotton yarn in
"Holeproof." Common yarn could
be purchased for 30 cents. But
"Holeproof "are soft and are made
in the lightest weights, if you want
them. Even these sheerest weights
are guaranteed six months. We
must make the best hose to guar-
antee them.

The genuine "Holeproof" bear-
ing the signature ^a^S^M
that of the originator of guaran-
teed hose, can be had in your
town.

We'll tell you the dealers' names
on request or we'll ship direct
where there's no dealer near,
charges prepaid on receipt of re-
mittance.

P^MSDiyji

holeproof flosieru

FOR MEN WOMEN' AND CHILDREN

We even guarantee silkhosef ormen
and women. Three pairs, guar-
anteed three months, for
men cost $2, for women
bo. Anyone, there-
fore, can now wear
silk hose with
economy for
"Holeproof"
of silk wear
longer than
common
cotton
kinds.

Write today for free book,
"How to Make Your Feet
Happy."

Cotton "Holeproof" for men,
women, children and infants cost
25 cents to 50 cents a pair in boxes
of six pairs guaranteed six
months.

It is easy to make hose last if
you make them heavy enough.
But to make hose light and make
them wear you must use the
highest-priced yarn that's sold.

HOLEPROOF HOSIERY CO., Milwaukee, Wis.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Springtime All the Time for Every
One Who Wears Heels Like This

O Sullivan's
Heels

OF NEW
LIVE RUBBER

You ought to have
them on your new
shoes. They make
you step quietly.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

CORN STARCH

Standard since 1848

Your well -planned dinner calls for a
delicious and dainty dessert.

A Kingsford's Blanc Mange, Custard, Charlotte
or Pudding is sure to meet with hearty approval.
What other dessert could you serve that looks
so palatable and tastes so good? The perfect
purity and extreme delicacy of
Kingfsford's gives you
< -~7 -i^-f) results you can't get
^miS^-^"' with inferior substitutes.
Don't risk failure with
them — insist on the reliable Kingsford's.

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.

On Monday tell the laundress good starch-
ing is as necessary as good washing to have
clothes a snowy white. See that

is used. Cheap starch spots and stains the most carefully
washed garment. Kingsford's may cost a little more — but it
gives such a dainty finish to lingerie and fine undergarments
you would not think of using any other starch once you try it.
Kingsford's is the pure natural lump starch — the
reliable starch with American housewives for three
generations — for hot or cold starching.

Insist that the dealer send it. Direct the laun-
dress to use it.

Sold in i lb., j lb., and 6 lb. boxes.

T. KINGSFORD & SON

National Starch Co., Suc'rs Oswego, N. Y.

—MM -'■--

w\*mim&m&8mmmiL

St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. ij/.

Time to hand in answers is up November 10. Prize-winners awiounced in January number.

For this competition the Judges
ask you to write a letter to the
St. Nicholas Magazine, tell-
ing in 300 words or less of some
advertisement in a magazine [any
magazine) that has caused you or
some member of your family to
write a letter to the advertiser in
regard to the thing advertised,
and the result of the correspond-
ence, whether you bought the
article or not.

The prizes will be awarded
according to the merits of your
letter — its form, clearness, and
correct style.

The object is to find out how
well you can tell the story of the
experience, and also what made
you or your family write to the
advertiser.

Try to make your letter sim-
ple, and yet let it tell the facts
clearly, so that it will show what
caused the letter to the adver-
tiser to be written, and what
came of it.

This is not a puzzle, but a
competition in the writing of a
good business letter telling certain
facts in the right way.

(See also

Here follow the list of prizes and
the rules:

One First Prize, $5.00 to the one
who submits the best letter — that is,
the most creditable in its style, form,
and correctness.

Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each to
those who submit the two next best
letters.

Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each to
those who submit the three next best
letters.

Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each to
those who submit the ten next best
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 number of this competition

(130-

3. Submit answers by November

10, 191 2. Use ink. Do not inclose
stamps.

4. Do not inclose request 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. 131, St. Nicholas
League, Union Square, New York.

page 30.)

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

This is addressed to those mothers of girls and boys who are beginning to be afraid
that "music simply isn't in" their children, it' s so hard to keep them interested in it

She practiced and she practiced
— but she never learned to play

Surely, you never heard of a child who didn't
love music. But practicing — that's another
matter. Nothing is harder or more tiresome
work — especially when there are other things
going on — doll parties or ball games.

There's only one way to make practicing
less hard and less tiresome — that is to keep
in the front of your boys' or girls' minds,
the fact that some day they are going to be
good players, musicians.

But how ?

Incentive ! They should know what good
music is and what good playing is. If you
could play and would play for them, they
couldn't ask for a better incentive. They'd
practice till their fingers ached to learn to
play as well.

But you don't play. And that is why you
need the PIANOLA Player-piano to give
your children the incentive you yourself can' t
give them. Keeping up their interest will be
the least of your worries when a PIANOLA
Player-piano comes into your home.

Do you think, because anyone can play
the PIANOLA Player-piano, that they will
lose interest or become discouraged with
their own efforts?

No ! They will practice as never before —
to be able to do with their own two hands
what the PIANOLA Player-piano does so
perfectly. It is the greatest incentive in the
world to make girls and boys want to be good
players and try to be.

And then think of your world of beautiful
music, of finished masterly playing, to offset
the finger exercises and scales you listen
to while your children are still beginners.

When you go to hear the Pianola Player-piano be sure you hear
the genuine PIANOLA — not just a player-piano. Pianola
does not mean any player-piano. It is our trade-mark name.
There is a vast difference, as you will understand when you
have heard the effects of the Metrostyle and Themodist, two
exclusive Pianola Player-piano features. The leastexpensive
Pianola Player-piano at $550, gives you these and other
exclusive Pianola features that even the highest priced of
other players cannot give you. We suggest that you read
"The Pianolist,"a book by Gustave Kobbe, for sale at all
book stores. We should be pleased to send you a copy with
our compliments if you will address Department "D."

THE AEOLIAN COMPANY

Aeolian Hail New York

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

Report on Advertising Competition No. 129

A great pile of papers awaited the
Judges' attention this month. Com-
petition No. 129 goes down on the
records as one of the most successful
and amusing we have had in many a
day. Of course, many of the papers
were placed in the rejected pile be-
cause of some omission or violation
of the rules. Some of you, too, I sur-
mise, failed to win prizes because your
work was careless, or the picture you
submitted was silly. On the whole,
however, the Judges were much
pleased. The first prize is a picture
of Mennen's Talcum Powder baby
reaching from a Pears' Soap bathtub
for an Auto- Strop Razor. The title
reads "Eventually — Why Not Now?"
The work is so well done, and the idea
is so clever, that we should probably
all agree with the Judges' decision.
And there is a picture marked fourth
prize — "Fifty-seven Varieties" of
children carefully grouped, and pre-
sumably all St. Nicholas readers.
And then there is a most attractive
piece of work — a clever combination
of fourteen different advertisements
to form a title plate for the St. Nich-
olas League. Another paper, marked
"Second Prize," is a picture of the
Peter's Chocolate man with his staff,
on which a Borden's Eagle has
alighted, and in his other arm a North-
ern Pacific baby bear. He is leading
a donkey loaded with a box of Grape -
Nuts, and a group of happy Ivory
Soap children are running, eagerly
after the wonderful traveler. We can
imagine them remembering the scene
long afterward, which makes the title
"The Memory Lingers" very appro-
priate.

There are many others— so many
good ones, in fact, that we have quite

(See also

a long list of those receiving Honor-
able Mention this month. It is rather
difficult to go over more than two
thousand pictures, as there were this
month, and look at each one carefully,
and judge fairly. But it is pleasant
work because the St. Nicholas boys
and girls — and you are one of them,
of course — are the brightest in the
world. After you have sent in two
or three contributions the Judges get
to know your work and look upon
you, more or less, as a friend every
time they see your name. Don't be
discouraged because you have not
won a prize; just keep on trying to do
better and better, and follow the rules
carefully, and you will stand a good
chance of being a prize-winner.

WTe are very proud of the names
given below. They stand for excel-
lent work.

One First Prize, $3.00:

Louise Laurens, age 13, New York.
7\vo Second Prizes, $3.00 each:

DeWitt B. B. Stucke, age 12, New York.

Anna A. Fuller, age 16, Rhode Island.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each:

Mildred Stokes, age 14, California.

Jessie Amia Lawton, age 9, Washington.

Marion B. Cook, age 14, New York.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each :

Dorothy M. Ewing, age 14, Canada.

Ruth Carter Grant, age 16, Massachusetts.

Joseph C Honiz, Jr., age 10, Louisiana.

Laura Hill, age 18, Pennsylvania.

Alison Hastings, age 15, Connecticut.

Vinton Liddell, age 12, North Carolina.

Elizabeth Brownell, age 11, New York.

Lucille Singer, age 14, Illinois.

William Provoost, age 15, New York.

Edith A. Laughlin, age 12, New York.
Honorable Mention.

Dorothy C Mason, age 14, Massachusetts.

Elizabeth Riggs, age 10, Maryland.

Phebe Ann Richmond, age 12, Rhode Island.

Gertrude Harder, age 16, New York.

Florence L. Dimm, age 9, Colorado.

Anna E. Greenleaf, age 17, New York.

Ruth E. Rieboldt, age 16, Wisconsin.

Kenneth G. Loud, age — , Michigan.

Roland Swift, age 10, Connecticut.

Walter R. Bedell, age 12, New York.

Mary Louisa Cobb, age 13, North Carolina.

Constance Grenelle Wilcox, age 17, Connecticut.

page 28.)

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

"Say, but these are corking tires!
Watch the fellows sit up and take notice!"

ikest links in the
h structure are the
Strengthen these, a
steadied, the step b

Boys, if you 're expecting to get
a wheel this coming Christmas, .be
sure it has

PENNSYLVANIA
\ftCUUM CUP TIRES

They 're the kind that don't skid, that
last through plenty of rough use, and
that cannot be affected by oil. The
best roads and pavements are now oiled
for motor traffic, and oil rots rubber. Ordinary
tires don't last.
, But Pennsylvania Tires have specially pre-

lt, the walk confident. m the tread. Oil makes no difference to them,

Loward Good Sens- [s tough enough to resist puncturing.
toward Extension He'ennsylvania Tires half a mile off. The tread is red.
ply corrects, ^xrh. we tires on your wheel make it look different.

We guarantee these tires for one whole season. They '11 last
far longer. No others are so good. They cost $8.50 a pair, and
are worth it.

Ask to have them put on your wheel. If the tire dealer in your
home town has n't got Pennsylvania Tires, write us direct. We '11
see that you get them.

PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER COMPANY, Jeannette, Pa.

(Reorganized February 1st, 1910)

Pittsburg, 505 Liberty Ave. Detroit, 254 Jefferson Ave.

Cleveland, 1837 Euclid Ave. Kansas City, 514 E. 15th St.

Chicago, 1004 Michigan Ave. Minneapolis, 34 S. Eighth St.

PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER CO. OF NEW YORK

New York City, 1700 Broadway

PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER CO. OF CALIFORNIA

San Francisco, 512-14 Mission St. Los Angeles, 930 S. Main St.

An independent company with an independent selling policy

_R£G U.S. PA*

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

MECCANO

you can build working models
of drawbridges, cranes, der-
ricks, signal towers and many
other structures with working
parts.

Meccano outfits contain
everything you need — beams,
girders, channel irons, pulleys,
bolts — made mostly of plated
steel and brass.

Write for Illustrated Catalog

and list of principal dealers in
your section. This catalog
describes not merely the out-
lit, but shows the things you
can build.

Meccano is sold by leading,
toy and sporting goods stores.
See a set.

Look for name Meccano.

THE EMBOSSING CO.

23 Church St. Albany, N. Y.

Manufacturers of

"Toys that Teach"

-v

:o o o o o.o oio,>p-,o;

You Can't Shoot

straight if your gun is dirty. Clean out
the barrel, polish the stock, lubricate the
trigger with "3-in-One." Use "3-in-One"
on your skates, bicycle, tools — prevents
rust.

Can You Hunt

rabbits, birds? Oil your gun with
" 3-in-One " and every shot goes straight
to the mark. Makes trigger work right
— keeps barrel bright inside and out.

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 perfectly — keeps them

bright and clean, free from

rust.

Write for generous sample bottle — FREE

3-IN-ONE OIL CO.,
42 Q. B. Broadway, New York

__-; rrtzes, $3.00 each:
7 y. B. Stucke, age 12, New
-.^.Fuller, age 16, Rhode Isl
<ii Prizes, $2.00 each:
■ :. >tokes, age 14, California,
na Lawton, age 9, Washin,
. Cook, age 14, New York.
Prizes, $z.oo each :
il. Ewing, age 14, Canada.
vc Grant, age 16, Massachu
Honiz, Jr., age 10, Louisia

BREAKFAST

tpCOA

gives just the rejuvenating aid and
assistance you need to carry on social
and business life. Delicately blended
— deliciously flavored.

At All Leading Grocers

Fifth Avenue at 35th Street
CHOCOLATES, BONBONS, FRENCH BONBONNIERES

Afternoon tea served in the Luncheon Restaurant,
three to six

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Extension Heel

The Right Support

for Children's Ankles

The weakest links in the grow-
ing foot structure are the arch
muscles. Strengthen these, and the
ankle is steadied, the step becomes
buoyant, the walk confident.

The Coward Good Sense Shoe,
with Coward Extension Heel, com-
fortably corrects arch weakness,
strengthens weak ankles, and prevents
"flat-foot." This is the shoe that
should be worn by every child
whose ankles "turn in," or who
shows any inclination to walk on
his heels.

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

Mailorders Filled — Send for Catalogue

SOLD NOWHERE ELSE

JAMES S. COWARD

264-274 Greenwich St., New York City

(near warren street)

jStnc^ 1857

BORDEN'S

EAGLE BRAND

CONDENSED MILK

Has been the
Leading Brand
for Household Use

and Nursery

BORDEN'S

Condensed

Milk Co.

N ew York

Send for Recipe Book
Send for Baby Book

'LEADERS OF QUALITY"

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Hockey Skates that
are World Beaters

American skates that have the proper
balance, the "spring," the classy lines,
and the flint-hard runners. Designed
to meet the standard — and built in the
world's largest skate factory.

THE BEST ICE AND ROLLER SKATES

Over half a century's experience and
skill are behind them. They are safe,
strong, fast and handsome. Write for
new catalogue No. 6, containing
rules of leading Hockey Associations.

THE SAMUEL WINSLOW SKATE

MFG. CO.

Factory and Main Offices :

Worcester, Mass., U. S. A.

Sales Rooms : New York, 84 Chambers St.

Pacific Coast Sales Agency :

Phil. B. Bekeart Co., San Francisco.

Stocks to be found at LONDON. 8 Long Lane,
\ E. C; PAKIS, 64 Avenue de la Grande

\ Armee; BERLIN; SYDNEY and

BRISBANE, Australia; DUNEDIN
AUCKLAND and WELLING-
TON, New Zealand.

Makers of

Winslow's

Famous

Roller Skates

J A Winter's Fun %

SAM LOYD'S |
FAMOUS PUZZLES *

For

Every One!

» '

St""^!

"A Great Book for Children"

Every one knows and loves Sam Loyd's "brain-twisters."
Here at last is a collection of this wizard's cleverest — most
interesting inventions — the greatest work for young folks
ever published. 120 pages, beautifully colored, and illus-
trated in Sam Loyd's irresistible style. Big pages; big
pictures; big type. Answers in back of book.

An entirely new holiday gift for children.

Sam Loyd's puzzles educate children; amuse elders;
sharpen the wits; hold youngsters spellbound for hours.
Price $1. For Sale by all Booksellers
or $1.20 by mail from

$ DAVID McKAY, Publishers %

£ Washington Sq., Phila., Pa. ^

&♦>♦>•>•>»>•>♦>•>♦>♦>•>•>♦>•>«>->♦>♦>♦>♦>■«

Keep your boy

Safeguard him at every turn— particu-
larly his reading. Know what he reads.
Keep his mind clean and free from yel-
low-backs — from the dangerous, sug-
gestive literature.

m THE >a^

AmericanBoy

Head by 500,000 boys

is red-blooded and thoroughly up to
date. Fine, healthy, stirring stories and
many clever, instructive departments
hold the boy's continued interest. It
keeps his mind free from treacherous
reading.

Don't let $1.00 for a year's subscription stand be-
tween your boy and his future. Realize what
pure, manly reading means to him I You cannot
refuse to act tonight— NOW!

On all News-stands, 10c
The Sprague Publishing Company
■\^ 190 American BMg„ Detroit, Mich.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

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grooved runners and this trade-mark. trade-mark

FREE

Cardboard working model
of the Flexible Flyer and
handsome booklet.

Just say "send model and booklet" and we'll
gladly send them FREE. Write today!

S. L. ALLEN & CO.,

BOX
1101V

Philadelphia

MENNEN'S

"FOR MINE"

RUBBER BUTTON

Hose Supporter

Will stand
hard wear

IN STORES EVERYWHERE.

Child's sample pair.postpaid
16 cents (give age).

It gives satisfaction — doesn't tear the
stockings — doesn't hamper the child
— and wears longest.
George FROST Co., Makers, Boston.

Also makers of the famous Boston Garter for men.

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE

$££^

SPLIT PROVISIONALS

A PROVISIONAL issue of stamps, or a provisional
stamp, is one made to supply some temporary
need — to fill the requirements of the moment. Such
occasions are usually created by the shortage of
some one value in a series, and use is made of some
other value in the series. At the present time, such
shortages are filled by the use of surcharged stamps,
but earlier in the history of stamps, the surcharge
was not so prevalent. It usually happens that the
shortage is in a stamp of low value. If a postmaster
runs out of one-cent stamps temporarily, what is

simpler than to cut
a two-cent into
halves, either ver-
tically or diago-
nally, and use each
half as a one-cent
stamp ? Stamps so
cut in two are
called "split pro-
visionals." They
are usually very
rare, and as any
one could cut a
canceled stamp in
two and call it a "split provisional," they, of course,
have no philatelic value unless they are on the orig-
inal cover with a postmark that covers the split side.
So the value and interest of the stamp lies in having
it on the entire envelop, guaranteed further by a
postmark properly placed. These splits are usually
cut vertically or diagonally, seldom horizontally.

In the United States we find half of the ten-cent
of 1847 used as a five-cent stamp, cut both ways.
The twelve-cent of 1851 cut diagonally takes the
place of a six-cent stamp. The two-cent black of
1862 and the brown of 1869 are also found cut both
ways. The three-cent of 1869 is known cut verti-
cally, so that two thirds of a stamp could be used
to do duty as a two-cent. These are the principal
split provisionals of our own country. While they
did actual postal service, they were never really
authorized.

The various British possessions to the north of us,
however, actually authorized the splitting up of
stamps. Therefore, their use was more common,
especially in New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and
Newfoundland — less frequently in Canada. In the
first two countries mentioned, not only do we find
stamps cut in half — vertically, horizontally", and
diagonally, but we find the shilling stamp cut into
four parts for use as a three-penny stamp. These
last are exceedingly rare.

Early Mexico was even more addicted to the use
of the split provisional. This country not only
divided its stamps into four parts, but went further
and gave us eighths of stamps, the eight-real being
so divided to give a value of one-real. Although
other countries, like Colombian Republic and Cuba,
have given some provisionals, none have equaled the
record of the ones previously mentioned. Not only
have stamps been cut into parts for provisional use,
but a few stamps have actually been made, by certain
governments, that they might be so used. Some have
been perforated through the stamp to facilitate
separation, while others were imperforate — like cer-

^ssysyjvyvyyy-sssvysvvyysssyyyirs^

ANSWERS TO QUERIES

RESPONDENT writes that in an old
collection that was given to him there are
some things which look like stamps, printed in color
and perforated, but with no wording or value — only
a white X upon colored ground. What are they?
From the description given, I think that they are
Austrian blanks. For some reason, probably to make
the sheet total even money, some of the spaces on
sheets of certain values were filled — not with regular
stamps, but with the requisite number of blanks such
as our correspondent describes. Sometimes these
are found still attached to the stamp adjoining.
They are very desirable in such pairs. By them-
selves, although they are not stamps, they have a
certain philatelic interest, and it would be well for
our correspondent to save them. 4J For the differ-
ence between the eight annas rose of 1865 (India)
and the same value of 1868 study the crown and
diadem. In the earlier type, you will observe that
the upper part of the crown is irregular, consisting
of a series of alternately broad and narrow projec-
tions. In the later type, the top part is regular and
consists of a row of diamond-shaped jewels. Also
the upper and lower inscriptions are separated in
the one by a group of five dots ; in the other by a
single dot. €][ A correspondent writes asking which
nation was guilty of foisting the surcharge upon
helpless stamp-collectors. Alas ! the surcharge has
been with us these many years, and we are sorry to
say it originated in these United States, and in the
City of New York. If you own a copy of Scott's
Catalogue (and every collector should own one),
you will find a list of what are called "Semi-official
Issues." These were in use in the various cities
mainly as "carrier" stamps. As such they had some
official standing and recognition, and received the
regular governmental cancelation. The stamps is-
sued in New York bore the head of Washington,
and were of a value of three cents. In 1846, these
were altered in value by a surcharge consisting of a
large figure 2 across the face of Washington, and a
bar through the word three. This we believe to be
the earliest surcharge. In April, 1854, the Island of
Mauritius surcharged a green stamp with the words
"four pence" in a curved line. Because this sur-
charge was on a regular governmental issue, it is
usually regarded as the first surcharged stamp.
(| A tear detracts materially from the value of any
stamp. It renders a common stamp valueless and
affects a rare one in proportion to the value of the
stamp and the extent of the tear. A small tear which
removes a portion of the design of a stamp is re-
garded as a more serious injury than one, more ex-
tensive, which leaves the design intact.

tain of the early German states, and more especially
the Geneva stamp of Switzerland. This latter is
popularly called the "double Geneva," to call atten-
tion to its two parts. These latter stamps are not
provisionals, but regularly authorized issues.

We illustrate the provisional Danish West Indies.
The cut represents one half of the four cents, used
as a two-cent stamp. Note how the cancelation
falls upon the cut side of the stamp, insuring the
genuineness of the provisional.

SS^S

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY

THE CONTINENTAL fl^rttS^rt

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. 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,
/^5jEB5\ Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania (landscape),
/Kb*®^ Jamaica (waterfalls), etc., only 10c. 100 dif. Japan,
[Ml il) India, N.Zld., etc. ,5c. Agents wanted 50%. Big Bar-
WmWMI gain list, coupons, etc., all Free! We Buy Stamps.
vsgEsj/ C. E. Hussman StampCo., Dept. I, St. Louis, Mo.

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. Carondelet St., Los Angeles, Cal.

r ARC: AINS each set s cents.

O/vrvva^VIl^O 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 100 VARIETIES FOREIGN, FREE. Postage 2c.
Mention St. Nicholas. Quaker Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio.

RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
xgSgjv with Catalogue Free. Postage 2cents. If possible send
/jjy"S[Bk names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special
[■( jl|| offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
WmWMf llc.;40 |apan,5c; 100 I'. S., 20c; 10 Paraguay, 7c; 17
\*S5S»/ .Mexico, inc.; 2d Turkey, 7c; 1" Persia, 7c; 3 Sudan, 5c;
V*HS5S' 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 Remit in 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-

►J 1 /-*1»I1 iJ . eig,. 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. 1 buy
stamps. L. B. Dover, D-6, St. Louis, Mo.

DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS FROM 70 DIF-

ferent Foreign Countries, including Bolivia, Crete, Gua-
temala, Gold Coast, Hong-Kong, Mauritius, Monaco, Persia,
Reunion, Tunis, Trinidad, Uruguay, etc., for only 15 centra
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,0.

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.

?8for$2. 500 diff.
f.U. S. Revenues,

1000 different stamps, no two alike, Cata.

stamps for50c; 300diff.,25c; 100diff.,2c 5odiff.

Cata. $5 for 80c Bolivia, 1894 lc, — 100c. complete for 10c Prussia,

9 varieties, 10c Jos. F. Negreen, 8 E. 23d St., New York.

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 ST)
bargains 2c Agts., 5o%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. Sal

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 Washington St., Boston, Mass,

! ! FREE TO BEGINNERS ! !

An old stamp of Peru, worth 30c. to any one sending for our
splendid approval selections at 50% discount.

New Chile lc, 2c, 5c, 10c, 15c 5c.

New Mexico lc, 2c, 5c, 10c, 20c 6c.

1911 Honduras Large picture stamps lc, 2c, 5c, 6c, 10c... 10c.
International Stamp Co., 1 Ann Street, New York

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

CT A IV/I DC Packet of 200, Album, Hinges, & List, all for 8c
iJ 1 AlVlr J, 50% to agents. We buy stamps. Name Paper.
Payn Stamp Co., 138 No. Wellington St., Los Angeles, Cal.

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

/"'I».le !»nr1 Rmrc Exchange Post Cards with St. Nick's

v^iri* ana uuys &irls and boys Send 10 cents in

stamps or coin for list to Helen Akin, Ogdensburg, New York.

Patronize St. Nicholas advertisers

j=^~£»*=£ — ^ote= — £>yyc# — £»tt=r— =J=*Xottfci — axxcg- . -^^^.-^yy^ ~^re^

First Aid Always,

keeps little hurts from getting big

kfej — fe»frg — ^)0v^— g>X>H — gaofes — adores — aos — &cxc±—&>c>& — £>ra=F^

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

HAEPER & 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 11

Name .

Address .

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

BENSDORPS

ROYAL DUTCH

Why Experiment?
Use a Standard Brand of Cocoa

BENSDORPS

is Absolutely Pure
Requires only Q^)
as much as of other

makes because of its

DOUBLE STRENGTH

Always in Yellow Wrapper.

Sample on request.

STEPHEN L. BARTLETT COMPANY, Importers, Boston

The Best Amusement for Your Children

Girls and boys find endless pleasure in modelling
with Plasticine, because they can do anything they
want with it — make houses, or animals, trees or
flowers — anything their ingenuity suggests.

HARBUTTS

Things modelled from Plasticine

keep their shapes as long as you want

them. They can be remodelled into

something else at any time.

Plasticine is the perfect material for home

modelling because, unlike clay, it requires no

water and is not mussy. Absolutely clean and

antiseptic, it is always ready for instant use.

Modelling with Plasticine is a fascinating
occupation for the rainy day or idle hour, and
a profitable enjoyment, affording opportunity
for children to act and think for themselves,
and encouraging the use of both hands.

In various sized outfits with complete in-
structions for modelling, designing and house
building. Outfits, 25c to $2.00.

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
58 Liberty Street, Albany, N. Y,

/*">-» MAKERS OF "1

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

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."

TKi Ctntury Magaxini

St. Nicholas Magazine gives its advertisers not only the second
balcony audience — but the first balcony and the orchestra audience.
Don 't overlook the young folks

DON M PARKER
Advertising Manager
Union Square, New York

Philadelphia, Pa.

My Dear Mr. Parker:

Taking you at your word, and
obeying an impulse, perhaps a fool-
ish 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 considering the chil-
dren. 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 errands, 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 congratulations to St. Nicholas, I am,

Very truly yours,

(Signed) Ruth Plumly Thompson.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

'": '■-'"- '■'■■■-i.:.,....;. .,-...-, ■

NEW YORK

CHICAGO

SAN FRANCISCO

Send for
catalogue " Y-5 .

SAY, BOYS,

the first ice is best, and B & B
Skates are best too. They save
expense and trouble of frequent
sharpening, are superior in every
detail, the blades, the plating, de-
sign, and finish. There are none
just as good. They've been
standard for 50 years.

Send for Catalogue, and select
either all clamp, lever, half-hockey,
Canadian hockey, racer, or safety
edge. Catalogue also contains
hockey rules, directions for building
an ice rink, and skating program.

For sale by leading dealers wher-
ever water freezes.

BARNEY A BERRY
143 Broad St., Springfield, Mass.

[

$50.00 Prize

IN CASH for the best title
for a certain new picture in

Open Free to everyone; illustrated circular on request.

"I cannot tell you how delighted I am with the
quality of your celebrated pictures, — so beautiful for
gifts." This from one of our thousands of patrons.
At art stores or sent on approval. Send 25 cents
for Picture Catalogue, [ > illustrations (practi-
cally a Handbook of American Art): stamps accepted.
This cost deducted from a purchase of the Prints
themselves.

Exhibitions for schools, clubs, churches, etc.
Family Portraits done on private order from
daguerreotypes, tintypes, old photographs, etc.

Co/ii/ right by

CURTIS & CAMERON

330 Pierce Building
Opp. Public Library

BOSTON]

Grown-ups — Youngsters

Why do you think the beloved poet Whittier called ST. NICHOLAS " the best

child's periodical in the world"?
Why do you love ST. NICHOLAS to-day— the thousands of you who watch

for it every month and make it a family institution?

For each of the five most thoughtful and well expressed answers to these questions we will give
a year's subscription to The Century or St. Nicholas, beginning with the November number,
the first of the new volume. If the writer of a prize letter is already a subscriber to the magazines,
he may have his subscription extended a year, or send his prize subscription to a friend or to
some charity. Let the letters come in promptly. Address:

ST. NICHOLAS, Union Square, New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

&ntaFe deluxe

Americas /mest ir&m

Chkago and lc>s Angeles -? Winter Season
Xxtra/ast — extra /me — extra /are

O* i^vfe

•""S .X*.

1 unnesifE^in^ly recoinmencL "fjhe&e
GJy&rnia. -frsdns^o -travelers wko wis
laeal service/

Fred Harvey dining car meals , And en rotrto
you may visit the Grand Canyon <y\Arizona

will send our tooHefs &wi£ full def aEs o/a deli^Kf
ihrovSx "the Scra&wesf Land c^ Enchaafmenttp

On reaae&i will send our tooHets
fid journey 41

Gl#

punier

^% •

brnife. jimr

Exclusively^* fksf class travel—The year 'round

fcteV

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Good Eating!

A food and candy combined, for old and young.

• ...

"High as the
Alps in Quality'

has a peculiarly delicious chocolate flavor, because it
is made of the finest grade of cocoa beans with pure
milk and a little sugar.

Father carries it when traveling.

Mother eats it because it is so delicious, and she
puts it in the children's school basket for a wholesome
luncheon.

College sister always chooses Peter's Chocolate.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Ivory Soap— it keeps the nation clean

Every minute of the day and night, Ivory Soap is being
used somewhere, some way, to keep our nation clean.

In city, village and on the farm, millions of people start
the day with Ivory Soap; use it for the toilet and bath; use
it in the nursery and for fine laundry purposes; and end the
day with it in the warm, evening bath.

Throughout the country, it is recognized that Ivory Soap
does exactly what a soap should do. It lathers freely,
cleanses perfectly, then rinses readily — and it is pure —
harmless to skin and fabric.

IVORY SOAP 99'jft* PURE

[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 DECEMBER, 1912.

Frontispiece. "Ring a ring o' Roses." Painted by Arthur Rackham. Page

The Nursery Rhymes of Mother Goose : Ring a ring o' Roses.

Little Tommy Tucker 97

Illustrated by Arthur Rackham.

The Wizard Shoemaker. Story winthrop Packard 98

Illustrated by Herbert Paus.

Aunt 'Phroney's Boy. Story L. Frank Baum 104

. Illustrated by George Avison.

Just Be Good. Verse James Rowe 112

"I 've Something for You." Picture. Drawn by George T. Tobin 113

Our Christmas. Verse Alice Lovett Carson 114

Illustrated by Gertrude A. Kay.

Beatrice of Denewood. Serial Story j ^iS^fig? and | . . • 116

Illustrated by C.M.Relyea. ' ] Alden Arthur Knipe I,

The Quest of the Jimblejock. Verse Ellen Manly 124

Illustrated by Reginald Birch.

" Birds that Fly Zigzag." Verse George 0: Butler 129

Illustrated by the Author.

A Small Order. Verse J. R 129

More Than Conquerors: Through Failure to Success. Sketch Ariadne Gilbert 130

Illustrated by Otto F. Schmidt. Decoration by Otto Rebele.

Playing Santa Claus. Verse Pauline Frances Camp 139

Illustrated by Rachael Robinson Elmer.

A Christmas Catch. Verse Cecil Cavendish 140

Illustrated by Clara M. Burd.

The Land of Mystery. Serial Story Cleveland Moffett 142

Illustrated by J. Paleologue, R. Talbot Kelly, and from photographs.

Three Guests. Verse Jessica Nelson North 151

Illustrated by Ethel Franklin Betts.

"I've Got a Dog." Verse Ethel M. Kelley 152

Illustrated by O. F. Schmidt.

Jacob and Gretchen. Story : Elizabeth Atkins 153

Illustrated by Reginald Birch.

Nancy's Southern Christmas. Story Harriet Prescott Spofford 161

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.

The Adventures of Billy Bowline. Story Harriet L. Wedgwood 165

Illustrated by Fanny Y. Cory.

Nature and Science for Young Folks 174

Illustrated.
St. Nicholas League. With Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems,

Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles ' 179

Illustrated.

Books and Beading Hildegarde Hawthorne 188

The Christmas Mousie. Verse Ida Kenniston 190

Illustrated by Culmer Barnes.

The Riddle-Box 191

St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page

The Century Co, and its editors receive manuscripts and art material, submitted for publica-
tion, only on the wider standing that they shall not be responsible for loss, or injury thereto,
while in their possession or in transits Copies of manuscripts should be retained by the aidhors.

Subscription price, $3.00 a year; single number, 25 cents. The half-yearly parts of ST. NICHOLAS end with
the October and April numbers respectively, and the red cloth covers are ready with the issue of these numbers ; price 50 cents, by mail,
postpaid ; the two covers for the complete volume, $1.00. We bindand furnish covers for 75 cents per part, or #1.50 for the complete
volume. (Carriage extra.) In sending the numbers to us, they should be distinctly marked with owner's name. Bound volumes are
not exchanged for numbers.

Persons ordering a change in the direction of Magazines must give both the old and the new address in full. No change can be
made after the 5th of any month in the address of the Magazine for the following month. P UBLISHED MONTHL Y.

FRANK H. SCOTT, President. —,-»,, -.~*^~~.~~-~m~ ~~ „ . _ .- ,, , •- ,.

WILLIAM W.ELLSWORTH, Vice-President and Secretary. THE CENTURY CO., UUlOn SCIUare, NeW York, N. Y.

DONALD SCOTT, Treasurer.

Entered as second-class matter at the Post-Office Department, Canada.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

= H These boys and girls have hurried up to see what is on the St. Nicholas Bulletin. Presently they will go away
= and tell their friends about the treats in St. Nicholas, and their friends will ask their parents to subscribe.
= IT Do you tell your friends how much you like St. Nicholas?

I1IIIIIIIIIIIIIH

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

I111ll!i[!lll]||lll[lf!illl(11ll!lilll

uBULL]

llliffiSffiiiil

IT Remember that our Bulletin tells only a little of what you can count on getting in future numbers. Hosts of ^5
clever, valuable things that you can't afford to miss will appear every month.
IT Three dollars a year. The Century Co., Union Square, New York.

Illlllllillllllllllllllllllllilllilllllll

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.

Do You Know
The Pleasure of a Good Dog's Companionship?

HAVE you never wished that you owned a good dog, a dog distinc-
tively worth having, as a "pal" on your summer trip, to guard your
home, as a companion for you and your family wherever you go?

'Kgl^^^^B^'^ dogs iii the world combine all these qualities so ideally as Airedale

/% Terriers. Intelligent, affectionate, fearless, an Airedale is the perfect

■ dog for protection and companionship.

^^T^^H SPECIAL SALE at half their value

JKf of unusually promising young dogs, 3 to 12 months old, by the greatest

I I Airedale ever bred, " Champion Colne Rockley Oorang." These young-

sters are beautiful terriers and a credit to their illustrious sire. They have

IHEBRt - been raised on different farms in the " Seignory," and are therefore grand

companions, hunters, and are reliable playmates and guards for children.

Fort Harrison, Montana.

Etc., etc. " The puppy reached here in fine shape about Etc., etc. " She ivas raised up ivith the baby, never leaves

two weeks ago and has since made friends with every officer, him; no matter where he is taken, she is always there;

soltiier, and child on this post. I will say that I have never sleeps at the foot of the crib and no stranger dare approach

receivedfairer treatment in any transaction." the kid without immediate regrets."

WALTER HARVEY, Captain U. S. Army. E. R. FORBES. State Veterinarian.
AND HUNDREDS OF OTHERS

Oldest and largest breeders in America. We own and have owned for years the foremost Champions of the World.
COLNE KENNELS, c/o "Le Manoir," St. Eustache, near Montreal, Canada.

Every pup is registered in Kennel Club of England and also American Kennel Club, and there's no duty on our dogs going into United States.

Money mSquabs «^l

Learn this immensely rich business I
[■■■^.r.l we teach you; easy work at home; f

everybody succeeds. Start with our
Jumbo Homer Pigeons and your success is assured.
Send for large Illustrated Book. Providence
Squab Company, Providence, Rhode Island.

OAK HILL KENNELS

COLLIES
POMERANIANS

We always have dogs to show and for pets.
Both sexes. All colors, ages, and prices. We
only breed from the best, so that is all we
can offer you. Correspondence a pleasure.

ELLIS PLACE, OSSINING, N. Y.

Telephone Ossining 323

Airedale Terriers

Most popular dog of the day

The Airedale is the best companion,
watch-dog, and all-round hunting-dog.
Ideal pets for children, faithful, kind,
and wonderful intelligence.

Puppies fr 07ii $25 up.

Beautiful booklet free.

Elmhurst Airedale Kennels

Kansas City, Mo. Sta. E.

A Pony for Christmas

Wouldn't that be the best of all ! A fine
playmate all the year round. What fun
teachinghim tricks and playing Indian and
circus and going calling. How little he
costs to keep and feed. Of coursehe must be
kind and gentle. That's the sort we have.

Write us/or/uilinformation regarding our ponies.

PINE HILL PONY FARM
724 Forest Street Medford, Massachusetts

Old English Sheepdog Puppies

FOR CHRISTMAS PRESENTS

A number of woolly bobtail puppies, ideal gifts for
young people, now ready for shipment. Address

MRS. J. D. VHAY, PONTIAC, MICH.

Do you love dogs?

Send stamp for
"Dog Culture'" to

SPRATT'S Patent Limited

Newark, N. J.

Dir 300 - P. ELECTRICAL f AT A I ClC,
|5lV_» AND WIRELESS V* /* 1 /* L. V-JVi

Mailed for 6c. stamps or coin, which you may deduct from
first order of $i. Great cost of catalog and low prices prohibit distribution
except to those interested. Most elaborate catalog1 in its line. Thous-
ands of boys are using our wireless instruments. Complete sets costbutafew
dollars. Catalog contains ioo-pp. Wireless insts. for experimental and com-
mercial use; 15-pp. Telegraph insts.; 30-pp. Toy and commercial Motors;
15-pp. Flashlights and Miniature lamps; 140-pp. Launch lighting out-
fits, Mirroscopes, Victrolas, Knives, Guns, Railways, Mechanical Tools, and
Books, and General Electrical Supplies. SAVE MONEY ON ANY-
THING ELECTRICAL BY GETTING THIS BIG CATALOG.
The J. J. Duck Co., 444-446 St. Clair Street, Toledo, Ohio.

HAVE YOU EVER ASKED YOURSELF

What breed of dog will make the best companion

and playfellow ? i

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.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

St. Nicholas Pet Department

to all those interested in pets.

Addr

Announcements of reliable advertisers only are ac-
cepted. The Department will gladly give advice
PET DEPARTMENT," St. Nicholas, Union Square, New York.

A Collie is a suit-
able gift for a man
or woman, youth
or young lady, boy
or girl, or even an
infant, as we have
Sold them to many
who have insisted
upon their "babies
being brought up
with a dog." In
fact it is a gift to
the whole family
circle that gives
greater satisfaction
as the years go by.
We will have some
beauties ready to
ship just about
Christmas time.

WHITE SCOTCH COLLIES

Every line of his body
indicates beauty,
every movement is
grace typified. His
deep chest is proof of
endurance, the heavy
coat insures hardi-
hood. His long strong
limbs assure speed,
every touch of his
cool nose is a caress;
his raised ears denote
alertness and intelli-
gence, every wag of
his tail spells sincer-
ity, the gleam of his
eyes means loyalty
and love, and his
bark may be a wel-
come to a friend or a
challenge to the
enemy.

A N ut 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, endur-
ing, hardy, intelligent, and active, and are ideal for city, suburb, country, or camp. Col-
lies are intelligent and sympathetic companions for adults; beautiful, graceful, and sensi-
tive comrades for young ladies; tireless playmates and FEARLESS PROTECTORS
of children, (and dauntless guards of the home or farm. Every boy and girl has an inborn
right to be brought up with a faithful dog to attract them to outdoor play and protect
them on any occasion. The tired man, disgusted with the shams and trickery of the world,
has his faith renewed every time he looks into the face of his loyal Collie. 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." Address :
THE ISLAND WHITE SCOTCH COLLIE FARMS, Oshkosh, Wisconsin

H snetianfl Pony

—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. 9a Markham, Va-

IRISH TERRIERS

A fine litter of strong, healthy pups, sired by
Castle Gould Wallaby ; also a few ones by Blar-
ney Reddmer. These little aristocrats make
ideal companions and play-fellows for children.

A perfect Xmas gift.
MRS. A.D.MORGAN, Bay Shore Kennels, Shelburne, Vt.

Persian Kittens for Sale

Black and colors from prize

and imported stock, $5 .00 up.

Guaranteed. Healthy.

Beautiful.

Orders for Christmas kittens

booked now.

Blanche E.Watson

Aurora Illinois

Established 1875

PETS

All kinds, and everything for them

Send for Catalogue "R"

William Bartels Co.

44 Cortlandt St., N. Y.

Breeders of
Pure
Shetland
Ponies

SUNNYSIDE

SHETLAND
PONY FARM

Beautiful and intelligent little
horses for children constantly
on hand and for sale. Correspond-
ence solicited. Write for hand-
somely illustrated pony catalogue to

MILNE BROS.
617 Eighth Street Monmouth, III.

ENGLISH BEAGLES

Handsome young registered beagles — field and bench
bred — from best imported strains. All dogs sold will
be registered with either the American Kennel Club or
The Field Dog Stud Book. Write us your wants.

GEORGE STILL, White Oak Kennels, Kirksville, Mo.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

%€&S

<&44f*

Temptation for boys is
born every minute. None
is more seductive, more dangerous than
impure, suggestive reading.
Introduce new and good influences into
his life. Guide his mind gently but surely
with the right kind of books and with

AmerkmBoy

Read by 500,000 boys

Don't think your boy is unlike other boys and that
he'll pick only clean reading. He won't; he's a
boy I And he's human !
Don't hesitate! Even tomorrow may
see that boy headed wrong. Will you
let $1.00 stand between you and his
future? Send that boy's subscription
today— it is the best sort of a Christmas
present and lasts a whole year.
Subscription Price, $1.00 a year.

All news- stands, 10c.
THE SPRAGUE PUBLISHING CO.. 191 America Bld6.. Detroit. Mich.

THE GOLDFISH

By JULIAN STREET

Authorof "The Need of Change," "Ship-Bored, "etc.

Illustrated in color by Eughiie Wireman
yo cents net, postage 7 cents

AN IDEAL CHRISTMAS STORY FOR CHILDREN
BETWEEN SIX AND SIXTY

JOHN LANE CO., 120W. 32d St., New York

STATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT, ETC.,
OF ST. NICHOLAS MAGAZINE

Published monthly at New York, N. Y.

Editor. — William Fayal Clarke 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

( Frank H. Scott, President 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

BUSINESS Managers 1 William W.Ellsworth, Vice-President and Secretary 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

( Donald Scott, Treasurer 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

Publisher : The Century Co 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

Owners: Stockholders —

Frank H . Scott 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

William W. Ellsworth 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

Donald Scott 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

Ira H. Brainerd 92 William Street, New York, N. Y.

Robert U. Johnson 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

C. C. Buel 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

A. W. Drake 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

W. F. Clarke 33 East 17th Street. New York, N. Y.

Josiah J. Hazen 33 East 17th Street, New York, N. Y.

George H. Hazen 381 Fourth Avenue, New York, N. Y.

Helena de Kay Gilder '. . . .24 Gramercy Park, New York, N. Y.

Marie Louise Chichester 501 West 120th Street, New York, N.Y.

James Mapes Dodge Germantown, Pennsylvania

Beatrix Buel 130 East 67th Street, New York, N. Y.

Estate of Roswell Smith 92 William Street, New York, N. Y.

Estate of Annie G. Smith 92 William Street, New York, N. Y.

Known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders holding

1 per cent, of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities None.

Frank H. Scott, President.
Sworn to and subscribed before me this first day of October, 1912.

Frances W. Marshall, Notary Public, N. Y. County.

( Seal) ( My commission expires March 30, 1913.)

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS
The Fourth Down By leslie w. quirk

The great foot-ball story of the year, for boys of 14 and upwards.
Illustrated. $1.20 net; by mail $1.30.

Buddie at Gray Buttes Camp By anna chapin ray

Summer vacation experiences of Buddie and his friends, for boys 10 to 15.

Illustrated.

si. so.

Donald Kirk, the Morning Record Copy Boy

By EDWARD M. WOOLLEY

The first book of the Donald Kirk Newspaper Series, for
boys 12 to 16. Illustrated. $1.20 net ; bv mail $1.31.

Henley's American Captain

By FRANK E. CHANNON

Further career of an American boy at an English school,
in the Henley Schoolboy Series, for boys 12 to 16.
Illustrated. $1.30.

Ned Brewster's Year in the Big Woods

By CHAUNCEY J. HAWKINS

A city boy's year in New Brunswick wilds, for boys 12
to 16. Illustrated. $1.20 net; by mail $1.31.

Dave Morrell's Battery

By HOLLIS GODFREY

The story of a young inventor, in the Young Captain of
Industry Series, for boys 15 and upwards. Illustrated.

$1-25-

The Fir-Tree Fairy Book

By CLIFTON JOHNSON

New version of favorite tales, for chil-
dren 8 to 12. Illustrated in tint.
$1.50.

The Bunnikins-Bunnies and
the Moon King

By EDITH B. DAVIDSON

A new Bunnikins book, for children 4
to 8. Illustrated in color. 30 cents net;
by mail 36 cents.

j THEBUMMIKIMS-BuMrllES

The Moon King

Curiosity Kate

By FLORENCE BONE

An English boarding-school story, for
girls 12 to 16. Illustrated. $1.20 net ;
by mail $1.31.

The

Wonder Workers

By MARY H. WADE

Romantic life stones of famous people,
for children 10 to 15. Illustrated. $1.00
net ; by mail $1.10.

Mother West Wind's Animal Friends

By THORNTON W. BURGESS

The third book of jolly animal stories, for children 6 to
11. Fully illustrated. $1.00.

Cherry-Tree Children

By MARY F. BLAISDELL

Little stories in big type, for children 6 to 9. Colored
pictures. 60 cents.

The Young Crusaders at Washington

By GEORGE P. ATWATER

Boy soldiers' days at the Capital, for boys 10 to 16.
Illustrated. $7 .30.

When Christmas Came Too Early

By MABEL FULLER BLODGETT

A Santa Claus story, for children 9 to 13. Illustrated hi
color, ys cents net; by mail S3 cents.

Little Women

PLA VERS' EDITION

By LOUISA M. ALCOTT

New edition of Miss Alcott's masterpiece. With 12 illustrations from scenes in
the>play. $1 .30 net ; by mail $1.66.

Donald in Scotland Josefa in Spain

In the Little People Everywhere Series

Two new titles in this favorite series depicting child-life in various parts of the world.

Illustrated, 60 cents each.

LITTLE, BROWN & CO., Publishers, BOSTON

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Kewpie
Kutouts
are such
fun

YOU have no idea. You can find out if you will ask
mother to get you the December number of the Woman' s
Home Companion. There is a whole page of Kewpie
Kutouts with a dress for Stern Irene. There is a page of
them in every number. Mother will like the rest of the maga-
zine. She can get it for a year for $1. 50. But you must see
the Kewpie Kutouts right away. So ask your mother for
15 cents and send it to us today with this Kewpie Kewpon.

WOMAN'S HOME
COM£A^IO>l

381 Fourth Avenue, New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

NOTICE TO

ST. NICHOLAS

READERS

MISTAKES are oftener made in the purchase of children's books than in
any other form of literature, for the term "Juvenile" covers the range
from illustrated primers to certain volumes of Dickens, Stevenson, and other
standard authors.

For the benefit of parents and those in search of gift-books for young people,
we list below our new juveniles with the approximate ages at which boys
and girls are sure to enjoy the book.

All are illustrated and many will be equally enjoyed by older persons.

With the Indians in the Rockies. By J. W. Schultz. nius. $1.25

net. Postage 13 cts. - - - - - - - - - 1 1 to 1 6 years

The Camp at Sea-Duck Cove. By Ellery H. Clark, iiius. $1.25

net. Postage 12 cts. - - - - - - - - - 12 to 16 "

The Turkey Doll. By Josephine S. Gates, nius. $o.75»et. Postage 8 cts. 7 to 9 "
Their City Christmas. By Abbie Farwell Brown, iiius. $0.75 net.

Postage 8 cts. - - - - - - - - - - II to 14 "

The Best Stories to Tell to Children. By Sara Cone Bryant.

Illus. $1.50 net. Postage 14 cts. - - - - - - - i to IO "

'Twas the Night Before Christmas. Jessie Willcox Smith edition.

Illus. $1.00 net. Postage 9 cts. - - - - - - - 5 to any age

Billy Popgun. By Milo Winter, nius. $2.00 net. Postage 16 cts. - 6 to 9 years

The Castle of Zion. By George Hodges, nius. $1.50 net. Postage 16 cts. 6 to 12 "

The Seashore Book. By E. Boyd Smith, nius. $1.50 net. Postage 13 cts. 7 to 10 "
The Japanese Twins. By Lucy Fitch Perkins, illus. $1.00 «<*

Postage 14 cts. - - - - - - - - - 8 tO IO "

The Children's Own Longfellow, nius. $1.25 net. Postage 12 cts. - 9 to 12 "

The Birds' Christmas Carol. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. New

illustrated edition. $1.00 net. Postage 12 cts. ... - 1 o to any age

How England Grew Up. By Jessie Pope. nius. $o.75 net. Postage 8 cts. 12 to 15 years

The Young Minute-Man of 1812. By Everett T. Tomlinson.

Illus. $ 1.50 postpaid. - - - - - - - - I 2 tO 1 6 "

Licky and his Gang. By Grace Sartwell Mason, nius. %x.oo tut.

Postage 8 cts. - - - - - - - - -i2 to any age

How Phoebe Found Herself. By Helen Dawes Brown.

Illus. $i.i5«i Postage 9 cts. - - - - - - - jj " " "

ZEEL£,.,'£dt, £ X" Houghton Mifflin Company

ers for prospectus giving full descriptions. 4 ParR StrCCt, BoStOIl

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

T1^ Century Dictionary

A Magnificent Christmas Gift
and One of Permanent Value

In Twelve Volumes

To look upon the Century merely as a dictionary,
or merely as a cyclopedia with an atlas, is to over-
look its essential feature. It is a dictionary — the
most complete ever known; it is a cyclopedia — the
most comprehensive in existence; it is an atlas —
the most accurate, as well as the most modern.
But the Century is much more — it -^ >r
is a Reference Library, thirty- ^yc&J^r
three works in one, each the ^<c£&^^
most authoritative of .^^E^*^ Learn to

its particular ^u^^ lo°k Up°n .the
k'm(\ ^^^^^^ Century as an active,

u^Tp§^^ positive help to your daily
^^^A^^^ life. The Century works for
fj^^ you — ^ does things, and does them ac-
curately. The Century is like a chest con-
taining millions of tools, each stamped with the
name of the best maker. Everything is at your in-
stant command — all in alphabetical order.

The twelve volumes are the finest in the history of book manufacture — leather,
buckram, paper, type, presswork, and binding each being the subject of years of
study, the account of which is contained in a splendidly illustrated booklet that
is yours for the asking. See description on opposite page.

THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Cyclopedia and Atlas

Newly Revised and Enlarged

Defines
Every Word

Explains
Every Fact

Describes
Every Place

EXPLAINS

nicknames.

GIVES 600,000 definitions
— most complete dictionary
ever compiled.

GIVES full history and ev-
ery use of English words.

STANDARDIZES spell-
ing and pronunciation.

GIVES every synonym.

GIVES complete, universal
history, with chronological
tables.

DEFINES, illustrates, tech-
nical, mechanical, electrical
terms, measures, coins,
tools, machines.

DESCRIBES and illustrates
mechanical arts and trades.

DEFINES every legal term.
Its word is law in the U. S.
Supreme Court.

DESCRIBES and illustrates
scientific research, even the
most recent.

GIVES cyclopedic information
in all branches of electrical, me-
chanical, and civil engineering.
GIVES lives of more than 20,000
famous men and women.
DESCRIBES many thousands of
places — a pronouncing gazetteer,
ancient and modern.
DEFINES, describes, and illus-
trates medicine, surgery, anat-
omy, physiology.
EXPLAINS and illustrates nau-
tical terms.

GIVES latest facts in commerce,
finance, banking, insurance.

Send for the handsome sixty-four-page prospectus, illustrated with full-page plates
of tapestries, game-birds, porcelains, furniture, aeroplanes, etc. (many in color)— a
superb map of the North Polar regions, a chart covering wages, the cost of living,
and the tariff from 1840 to date. It gives a complete description of the Century
and answers clearly all your questions about that work ; it demonstrates the /
practical value of the Century to men and women of every calling ; it shows
the citizen how the Century will give him just the proper understanding of / —

the questions of the day. Every page of it is interesting. .

Send for it to-day. See coupon in margin. /

EXPLAINS all abbrevia-
tions, usual and unusual, in
alphabetical order.

EXPLAINS everything for
children.

SHOWS colored charts of
constellations.

pseudonyms,

EXPLAINS thousands of mis-
cellaneous facts.

DESCRIBES everything that
lives and grows — an illustrated
nature library.

EXPLAINS all theological and
ecclesiastical terms.

EXPLAINS any fact in music —
operas — biographies of musical
celebrities.

GIVES comprehensive view of
general literature — drama, fic-
tion, poetry — with chronologi-
cal outline.

SERVES as complete illus-
trated cyclopedia of archi-
tecture.

GIVES 300,000 quotations.

SHOWS most modern
maps of all parts of world
— poles included.

GIVES history of Bible,
indexes Biblical persons,
shows maps of Holy Land.

GIVES all important dates
in history in chronological
order.

EXPLAINS, illustrates arche-
ology, mythology, painting, sculp-
ture, ceramics, lacquer work,
lace, heraldry, costume, ttc.

ILLUSTRATES by chart
main facts in political and
social economy — wages,
cost of living, etc.

Dec.
St.Nich.

GIVES 100,000 / The
modern place names Century

— indexes 5000 / Co.

ancient names. New York

Please send,
without cost or
obligation to me,
the booklet con-
taining the story
of the Century, with
a map, color-plates
and specimen pages
from the new edition.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Harper's
Young People's Library

Indoors and Out

These are some of the things that the boy is taught to make

THE INDOOR BOOK
THE ELECTRICITY BOOK
THE MACHINERY BOOK

THE OUTDOOR BOOK

CAMPING and SCOUTING

THE BOATING BOOK

Name

These six large volumes will show your boy how his leisure time may be spent with pleasure as
well as profit to himself. They are designed to give him 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 — 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. Above all, the books are interesting, interesting, interesting.

A boy should become acquainted with the development in mechanics, electricity,
aeronautics, etc., which have already come to have a place in the sports and pas-
times of the wide-awake youth. The entire future of your boy may depend upon
this fundamental knowledge. It is your privilege to place it within his reach.
The books are strongly and handsomely bound, having in mind possible
rough usage. They are printed from a new copper-faced type, and contain
about seven hundred illustrations and working diagrams thoroughly ex-
plaining the text.

With these books you will receive, at no additional cost, a year's sub-
scription to Harper's Magazine and Harper's Bazar, or, Harper's
Weekly and Harper's Bazar.

HARPER »
BROTHERS

FranKlin
Square, N.

Gentlemen: Please send
me, all charges prepaid,
HARPER'S YOUNG PEO
PLE'S LIBRARY, Six Vol-
umes, Cloth Binding, subject to
ten days' approval, and also enter
my subscription to both HARPER'S
Magazine and harper's Bazar
for one year, for which I inclose $1.0
and agree to send you $1.00 a month
until the total price, $12.00, is paid, if the
books are accepted by me. S.N. 12-12

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

New Harper Juveniles

(Ken Ward Series)

The Rocket Book

By Peter Newell

A new Peter Newell book is a new joy for both
young and old. In this new book the mischievous
son of the janitor sets off a skyrocket in the base-
ment of an apartment house. It pops successively
through the floors of different flats, encountering in
its way dinner-tables, bath-tubs, and ice-cream freez-
ers, creating disturbance for several households.

Illustrations and verses by Mr. Newell. Cover in
colors. $1.25

Ken Ward in the
Jungle

By Zane Grey

A thrilling story of how Ken Ward and his
brother explored the fever-infested jungles of tropi-
cal Mexico ; of their marvelous adventures with
crocodiles and snakes ; of the hunting of jaguars
in the thickets ; and of their many encounters with
strange beasts and venomous insects and hostile
Indians. It was an adventure calling for pluck,
forethought, daring, and perseverance ; but, as
usual, Ken Ward made good.

Illustrated. Post Svo, cloth, $1.25

Robin Hood

By Louis Rhead

The dashing story of Robin Hood and his follow-
ers is told in this new version by Louis Rhead, who
was born in the same county as Robin Hood, and
passed much of his early life roaming through the
greenwood where the merry outlaw, jovial Friar
Tuck, Maid Marian, and others of the band defied
the Sheriff of Nottingham.
Fully illustrated by Mr. Rhead. Octavo, cloth, $1.30

Camping in the
Winter Woods

By Elmer Russell Gregor

Two boys spend a winter in the Maine woods,
hunting and trapping under the tuition of a famous
guide. Their adventures are innumerable — midnight
coon hunts, forest fires, abattle with wild dogs, fish-
ing through the ice, and the discovery of a mysterious
cave. They not only study nature, birdcraft, and
animal lore, but learn to do things for themselves,
and emerge self-reliant from the wilderness.

Many illustrations. Post Svo, cloth, $1.30

Prayers for Little
Men and Women

By John Martin

Here are prayers for the little ones, written by a
writer the children love, with an understanding
which teaches and spiritualizes in a direct personal
way the little mind just unfolding. Some of these
titles are: "Usefulness," " Self- Reliance," "Fa-
ther," "Mother," "A Journey," "Falsehood,"
"Dress," "Secret Faults," "God Is Near," "A
Promise," "Self-Control," prayers for the days of
the week, etc.

Illustrated in colors. Cloth, $1.25 net; leather,
$2.00 net

The Green C

By J. A. Meyer

This is a story for the majority of American boys.
It is a story of public-school life instead of a story
of the minority who attend private schools. The
author, a new writer equipped with a full knowledge
of boy life and sport and a delightful sense of humor,
pictures Jack at his entrance to the high school.
There is a lesson of honor involved more than once
throughout this wholesome book.

Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth, $i.2j

The Son of Columbus

By Molly Elliot Seawell

A vivid, picturesque tale of the Spanish court in
the days of Columbus. Through the boyish enthu-
siasm of two youths, one of them the son of Colum-
bus, the author conveys a lively impression of the
stir and bustle, the excitement and anxiety, that pre-
ceded the great voyage of discovery. Particularly
suitable for younger readers.

Illustrated. Post Svo, cloth, $/.2j

Camping on the
Great River

By Raymond S. Spears

The hero of this addition to Harper's Camp Life
Series, a boy of sixteen, has an adventurous trip
down the Ohio and the Mississippi in a shanty-boat,
and many exciting experiences. He succeeds in
making a man of himself in a way that is unusual,
yet true to life. While keeping up a lively interest
in the story, the author touches upon the history
and geography of the great river.

Illustrated. Post Svo, cloth, $1.30

HARPER & BROTHERS

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

K. D. Wiggin

KATE DOUGLAS
WIGGIN

and

NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH

EDITORS OF

Nora A. Smiih

"The Children's Crimson
— = classics" — —

collection of prose and poetry for young readers which is generally
conceded to have a quality of imaginative appeal never equalled.
C Deeply interested as the Editors of this Series are in the first training
of children, their whole effort has been bent to gather from every known
source the fine things of prose and verse which will lay sure foundations
of literary appreciation in every young reader. The fairy tales, for instance,
were chosen after reading 20,000 fairy stories. This same painstaking labor
has been spent on each volume, and the result is a series of marked distinction.

"The TALKING
BEASTS"

A New Volume
Now Ready

Many Illustrations

Net, $1.25

(postage \ 2c.)

C. From ^Esop and La Fon-
taine to the almost unknown
fables of India the authors
have gone for some hundreds
of the short tales in which
birds and beasts convey pith-
ily the wisdom of the ages.
No child can resist the form
of the fable — the talking;
crow, the outwitted fox and
all the rest; and the result is
a volume which will delight
thousands of youngsters.

OTHER VOLUMES IN "THE CRIMSON CLASSICS'

ILLUSTRATED EDITION

The Fairy Ring Net, $1.25 (postage 12c.)

Tales of Wonder. Fairy tales from many lands Fixed Price, $1.50 (postage 15c.)

Tales of Laughter. Amusing stories from every land $1.35

Pinafore Palace. A collection of the best short poems and nonsense verses. Nursery Rhymes . . $1.35

Magic Casements. A fairy book for slightly older children $1.35

The Posy Ring. Short, simple poems for children . Net, $1.25 (postage 12c.)

Golden Numbers. A book of verse for youth v . . . Net, $2.00 (postage 17c.)

Garden City DOUBLED AY, PAGE & CO. New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

We are Offering for a Short Time Only

The Only House Manual

The Library of Work and Play

Complete in 1 1 volumes, 4500 pages, 2500 descriptive
diagrams, 200 full-page half-tones, many in color, and
this Handsome Mission Bookrack FREE. Read below.

WHY THIS SET IS UNIQUE

In it you will find described and illustrated: everything for the children young and

old to do and play; everything for the grown-ups
to know about the house. Most manuals are dull
reading — this is not. There are 18,000 ques
tions dealing with household affairs answered
in simple language in story form. Each
volume is written by an authority. We
cannot do the set justice here. Clip off
the coupon, mail it to us and you will
see it for yourself FREE. Look over

Vol.
Vol.
Vol.
Vol.
Vol.
Vol.

I. Carpentry — Foster
II. Electricity — Woodhull

III. Gardening — Shaw

IV. Home Decoration — Warner
V. Housekeeping — Gilman

VI. Mechanics — Hodgson
Vol. VII. Needlecraft— Archer
Vol. VIII. Outdoor Sports— Miller
Vol. IX. Outdoor Work— Miller
Vol. X. Working in Metal— Sleffel
Vol. XI. Guide and Index — Boone

purchase price $17.50 is paid.

with your bargain, return the set at OUR EXPENSE

Doubleday, Page & Company

Garden City, New York

Doubleday,

Page & Co.,

Garden City,

N. Y.

Gentlemen : Please
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d, 1 <+• 1 M Work and Play and mis-

ays, then send us ipi.oo and X s.on bookrack express pre.

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1 you are not sdtisnea / your expense. HikeeP the books

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and $2 per month thereafter until $17.5°

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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

THE BOY'S

BOOK

OF NEW

INVENTIONS

By Harry E. Maule

Every boy is interested
in wireless telegraphy,
aeroplanes, photogra-
phy, motion pictures, etc.
This book gives every
boy a chance to read accurate accounts of all the greatest new inventions, told in a
way that is more fascinating than fiction. It is the adventures of a boy who went to the
workshops of inventors, aviators, electricians, and photographers. All the valuable hints
for putting to test the great scientific theories are given by a scientist who goes with the
boy to explain things. These can be used by any one interested in such inventions
as Dr. Nikola Tesla's steam turbine engine, a model of which, the size of a derby
hat, develops more than 1 10 horse-power. Sixty-three illustrations. Net $1 .60.

PRINCESS RAGS AND TATTERS Br ^ T. Cmilodl

Author of "Molly, the Drummer Boy," "Joyce of the North Woods," etc.

This is a wonderful story about a little girl who made believe that she was a princess. She is
sure to make friends among young readers. Illustrated in colors. Net 75 cents.

jESOFS fables

A volume of endless appeal for every child
Rackham has made fascinating with his pictures

Illustrated.

Illustrated by Arthur Rackham

Uniform with "Alice in Wonderland," which Mr.

Net $1.50. De Luxe Edition, net $ 1 0. 00.

THE BOOK OF WOODCRAFT AND INDIAN LORE

By Ernest Thompson Seton, author of "Two Little Savages," " Rolf in the Woods," etc.
The art of camping, scouting, woodcraft, and all good outdoor athletics. Illustrated. Net $1 .75.

ROLF IN THE WOODS

A fine story — brave, wholesome, thrilling.
War of 1812.

By the Same Author.

It recounts the adventures of a Boy Scout in the

Illustrated. Net $1.75.

THE ADVENTURES OF BOBBY ORDE

By Stewart Edward White, author of "The Blazed Trail," "The Riverman," etc.
Being the outdoor experiences of Bobby, son of Orde, "The Riverman. " An ideal book for
boys. Illustrated. Net $1 .20.

Garden City

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

L.U&XE

t^^c^^^^:(^^c^^^M^m^Si^

IOHNMAR3TNS

^T ^ FORLITTU^FOLKg^J^

ToiIniiH^^GRSvmjp^

YES, we are Little People, too,
And we ate very fond of you.
Of course we know you understand
That we all live in Fairy Land.
Now, listen to us, will you, dear ?
For many a long and happy year
We've known "John Martin" — some one who
Is also very fond of you.

" John Martin's House " is where we play ;
We call on him 'most every day.
John Martin lets us make a noise
And romp like little Girls and Boys.
He loves to have us laugh and run
All 'round His House — he says it 's Fun.
He thinks, perhaps, he 's selfish, too,
Unless he lets us play with you;
And so, he says, that you should look
And see the Coupon in this book —
Our Chubbies made it just for you ;
The Coupon tells you what to do.
If you 'II just cut the Coupon right,
We 'II run to you with all our might.
In your own home we '11 romp and play,
And make you happy every day.
John Martin thinks it 's only fair
That we should visit everywhere.
So, get his book and you will see
What nice companions we can be.
O, dear ! O, dear ! we 'most forgot
To say that every little Tot
Who likes the way we Chubbies look
1 Will get us in John Martin's Book.
We 've made a Cut-out Page for you,
So all you children have to do „

Is just to cut us out, and then
You '11 have some merry Chubbie Men.

JOHN MARTIN, one of America's
greatest writers for children, has
planned a new Book-Magazine for
little people.

The ideal of this Book- Magazine is
to bring together the best of modern
writers and illustrators for children. A
perfect Picture and Story Book for
children who have just learned to read ;
or to be read aloud by the parent to the
little tots who have not yet learned to
read.

" John Martin's Book " automati-
cally provides, once a month, for a need
that has long been felt in the Home,
Kindergarten and Library. Children
need the better type of literature furnished
by this book ; so do their mothers.

This Ideal Series of Books will
include Fairy Tales (old and new),
Legends, Fables, Myths, the best
Poetry for children, History in Rhyme
and Reprinted Classics. There will
be plenty of funny pages and stories, but
they will be pure fun. The Book is to
be lavishly and beautifully pictured
(from 60 to 80 pages). The Covers are
to be heavy and durable; the text pages
printed on heavy, tough paper.

There are to be charming Nature
Stories of how things grow and live.
Then Sunny Sunday pages and pages
for the Rainy Days, and children's Songs
-with Music.

Write now for sample.

IF you mail me the coupon in the next
square, with ten cents in stamps to cover
cost of mailing, I will send you free an
EIGHTY-PAGE BOOK, printed in two
colors, with a three-color cover. Write
your name and address plainly. It is a
regular twenty-five-cent book. Send for it.
JOHN MARTIN

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

1 HE CENTURY
LLU STR ATED

'TJ-4 f Y?

A. J< X Am-,* — < X .

ZINE

The cover of the Christmas Century
is reproduced in the beautiful
colors of the original design by
Norman Price.

The Christmas
Number of

T?F CENTURY

will have a unique
and beautiful eight-
page inset, reproduc-
ing some wonderful
studies done in red
chalk by Violet Oak-
ley, for a stained
glass window — the
subject Dante's Di-
vine Comedy.

0, Boys and Girls!

You older boys and girls, who
plan for yourselves! Have you
thought what a satisfactory and
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Uncle John or Aunt Mary, for
grandfather or grandmother? It
would be a gift giving pleasure
to all the household through
every month in the year.

And you older boys and girls,
beginning to feel a little grown
up for St. Nicholas, but wanting,
of course, a magazine which
keeps you in touch with live
questions and gives you the best
current fiction and illustrations,
be sure that The Century during
the year beginning with Novem-
ber, 1912, is on the home read-
ing table and prove for yourselves
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information a year's companion-
ship with The Century means.

A year's subscription is $4.00 —
less than the cost of your daily
paper. Address : The Century Co.

Your bookseller will gladly forward
your order if that arrangement would
be more convenient to you.

THE CENTURY CO. Union Square NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

FRANCES
HODGSON
BURNETT

Author of

" The Secret Garden,"

" Little Lord Fauntle-

roy," etc.

A NEW NOVEL BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT

will be a feature of The Century during the new year. With all the whole-
some philosophy and simplicity, and especially with that human touch that
so charmed the readers of "Little Lord Fauntleroy" and "The Shuttle," Mrs. Burnett, in
her new novel, "T. Tembarom," weaves a fascinating romance about a clever young
American who is always cheerful, and a quiet little English girl who has much good sense.

From the Adriatic to the Bosphorus

BY ROBERT HICHENS AND JULES GUERIN

will be a series of travel sketches and pictures in the new volume of The
Century not to be missed. To visit strange lands and learn their secrets; to
mingle with strange peoples and understand them ; to wander among the ancient temples
of Dalmatia and Greece, with two such interpreters as Robert Hichens and Jules Guerin,
is to travel indeed. Exquisite pictures in color.

AMERICAN HISTORY SINCE THE CIVIL WAR

is to be covered in the new volume of The Century in a series of "After-
the-War " papers by some of America's best-known journalists. You can
hardly understand epoch-making events of to-day without the information which these
papers will present, authoritatively and entertainingly.

THE BEAUTIFUL CHRISTMAS NUMBER
OF THE CENTURY

will be on all the news-stands in a few days. You will be interested to read
in its pages of a unique Christmas celebration, happy and lovely beyond
any words, " A Novel Christmas Fete in California," by Louise Herrick Wall. Jacob Riis
tells, with sympathetic touch, for its readers the story of what " scientific management " is
doing for the little newsboys of New York. And, if you cannot make a trip to Panama
and see for yourself the wonderful work drawing to completion there, you will find a pretty
good substitute in Farnham Bishop's "The End of the Big Job," in the Christmas Century
— a splendid picture of human achievement and human nature on the Canal Zone.

Send many a friend a copy of this beautiful number, with its store of lovely and interesting pages, instead of a card or
an insignificant trinket ; and you will find your thought warmly appreciated. There is always such a personal touch in
the gift of a choice magazine — whether it be just the greeting of a single issue, or the gift of a year's subscription.

The Christmas number, at all news-stands, 35 cents

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

rlstemsis Stocking Boo

Beautifully Illustrated and of Enduring Value

An ideal gift-book for almost any age

Russian
Wonder Tales

They are the kind of magic tales which
never lose their flavor — the dear old once-
upon-a-time stories of adventure in which
all kinds of delightfully impossible things
happen — stories to give unfailing delight to
the young in heart of all ages. Edited,
and with an interesting foreword, by Dr.
Post Wheeler.

There are twelve lovely and unusual pictures in
color, made originally for the Imperial Russian
edition of these tales by the famous Russian artist
Bilibin. Quaint and attractive binding. Small
quarto, 323 pages. Price $2.50 net, postage 19
cents.

Put this on your picked Christmas list too

Joan of Arc

It is a unique and striking book, both the story of the Warrior Maid of France
and forty-three superb colored illustrations in the most delightful style of the
famous French artist, M. Boutet de Monvel. Price $3.50 net, postage 17 cents.

Also delightful for its unusual quality

Jataka Tales

A fascinating book of jungle lore and primitive folk tales, adapted from the sacred

book of the Buddhists for young readers of to-day. Retold by Ellen C. Babbitt.

Thirty-six pictures in silhouette by Ellsworth Young which will specially please

little folks. Price $1.00 net, postage 8 cents.

A well-worth-while gift-book

iEsop'

s Fables

A delightful new edition of one of the great world books, a treasury of wit and
wisdom new to every generation. All ages will enjoy this attractive book, with
its forty quaint drawings by E. Boyd Smith, and its page borders printed in tint.

AnZvo of 167 pages. Price $2.00 net, postage 14 cents.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

istiaas StoefeJnfj Be

Ralph Henry Barbour's Splendid Stories

The new one is

Crofton Chums

Perhaps there might be a better all-around wholesome
story of American school-boy life and sport, but you
would search far to find it. The book form of the story
is longer than the St. Nicholas serial; and boys — and
girls too — who like outdoor sports, foot-ball especially,
will delight in the gift of this wholesome, breezy,
jolly book.

Sixteen full-page illustrations by Rely ea, full of life.
i2mo, 338 pages. Price $1.25 net, postage 12 cents.

This is RALPH
HENRY BARBOUR

Six Other Great Books
By this Prince of Story-tellers

Team-Mates

Ralph Henry Barbour's books sell and sell — there is no more popular writer for
young people to-day. This is one of his best stories — full to overflowing of out-
door fun. "Cal," one of the "team-mates," is a new kind of character in Mr.
Barbour's stories. Many pictures. Price $1. 50

Kingsford, Quarter

Some study, plenty of fun, lots of light-hearted talk, and a great deal of foot-ball are
happily mingled in the story of life at Riverport ; but foot-ball is the important thing
to Riverport lads ; and Mr. Barbour tells all about many games most entertainingly.

Many pictures. Price $1.50

The Crimson Sweater

"A book that will go straight to the heart of every boy and of every lover of a
jolly, good foot-ball tale." Many pictures. Price $1.50

Tom, Dick, and Harriet

"Tom, Dick, and Harriet" is a book full of "ginger" — a healthful, happy book,
which both girls and boys will enjoy. Many pictures. Price $1.50

Captain Chub

In "Captain Chub" the boys rent a house-boat, and with Harriet and her father for
guests cruise up and down the Hudson, stopping on shore for all sorts of adventures.

Many pictures. Price $1.50

Harry's Island

The same happy quartet found fun another summer on an island in the Hudson
which Harry's father gave her for a birthday gift; and the days were very full
and jolly. Many pictures. Price $1.50

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

»Aj3b

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

These Are Ideal Gifts for Any Boy or Girl

Rudyard Kipling's Greatest Books

THE JUNGLE BOOK THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK

Whatever else the children have, or do not have, among their
books, be sure that the inexhaustible delights of the two
Jungle Books are theirs. There are no books to take their
place, no books so rich in the magic and mystery and charm
of the great open and its life.

Both books are illustrated, "The Second Jungle Book"
with rare sympathy and skill by John Lockwood Kipling,
the author's father. Price, each, $1.50.

Another edition, specially charming for a gift, is bound in flexible red
leather. Price $1.50 net, postage 8 cents.

Another Great Kipling Book

CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS

It would be hard to find a book which either a boy, or the boy's father, would like bet-
ter than this. It is great reading — Mr. Kipling took a cruise on a Gloucester fishing
smack to write it. Illustratio?is by Taber. Price $1.50.

THE BIOGRAPHY OF A SILVER FOX

By Ernest Thompson Seton

This is the most delightful of all Mr. Seton's delightful stories — for the young in heart
of all ages ■ — the story, from his cubhood to his splendid prime, of that aristocrat of
foxes, Domino Reynard, and his happy, adventurous life among the Goldur Hills. All
the magic of the wild, free life of the open is in its pages.

Over 100 illustrations by the author, and very beautifully made. Price $1.50.

By the Same Author

THE BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY

Just about the most delightful animal story ever written — saving and excepting always
those masterpieces of genius, the Jungle Books. It is a true story— we have Mr.
Seton's word for that— but it has the magic of imagination on every page.
Its pictures make it a never-ending joy; they are the author's.

Printed in two colors, with a very attractive binding. Price $1.50.

MASTER SKYLARK

By John Bennett

Young people will get a truer idea of the life of Shakspere's day from this delightful
story than from many a serious volume.

The pictures by Reginald Birch are among the book's delights. Price $1.50.

Are you Christmas-gift planning for any
boy or girl, big or little? Our Classified
List of Books for Young Folks is a mine of
helpful suggestions. Let us send it to you.
Your address on a post-card will bring it.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Old and New — a List of Wide Choice

The Knights of the Golden

By Rupert Sargent Holland

Noble adventure, stirringly told, with a plot
quite out of the usual to stir and hold the in-
terest. It is the kind of book in which boys —
and the right kind of girls — lose themselves — a
different kind of book, based on historic fact
and legend, fascinatingly told.

Delightful illustrations by Reginald Birch.

1 2mo, 3 1 3 pages. Price $1.25 net,

postage 1 2 cents.

Standard Books Which Every Child Should Own
HERO TALES FROM AMERICAN HISTORY

By Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Cabot Lodge

There can be no more stimulating companionship for any young person than that of
the truly great men of our country ; and there is no better book of hero tales than this.
There are twenty-six of these tales, simply told stories of Americans who showed that
they knew how to live and how to die, who proved their truth by their endeavor.

Illustrated. Price $1.50

THE BOYS' LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN

By Helen Nicolay

An ideal gift book for every boy and girl who does not yet own this book. In choice
of incident and event, in accuracy, in sympathy, in vivid interest, it stands, and will
stand, as the ideal life of Lincoln for young people.

Illustrations by J. Hambidge and others. Price $1.50

THE BIBLE FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

Every mother has wished for such a book as this — a Bible within the understanding
of young children, yet retaining the accepted text. Here it is, the text hallowed by
generations of reading carefully adapted and arranged so as to hold the young reader
closely, with no loss of vital and beautiful passages.

Beautifully illustrated froin famous paintings by the Old Masters. 475 pages of
easy-to-read text, handsome red binding. Price $1.50 net, postage 23 cents.

DONALD AND DOROTHY

By Mary Mapes Dodge, the children's friend

Not a new book, but always new in its power to interest and delight every boy and girl
— the story of a sister and a brother — fine, sweet, true. Pictures. Price $1.50

LADY JANE

By Cecile Viets Jamison
A book of unusual freshness and charm, the story of a dear little girl whose beauty
and sweet ways and genius for winning love brought her many experiences.

Reginald Birch? s pictures are quaint and fascinating. Price $1.50

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

trnaas StocRixig I

Very Little Folk Will Love These

THE BROWNIE BOOKS

By Palmer Cox

Palmer Cox's Brownie books — there are eight of the regular
books altogether now — are unique in their whimsical clever-
ness and fun. His fun-making pen, his gift at jingle- turning,
seem to gam in cleverness and wit with every year ; and
youngsters of all ages enjoy the jolly Brownies and their man-
ifold pranks. Pictures and verse in every volume are done
as only Palmer Cox knows how.

Eight books, with pictures on every page. Board covers in color.
Quarto, 144 pages. Price $1.50 each.

DO YOU KNOW THEM?

The Brownies' Latest Adventures

One hundred and forty-four pages of condensed sun-
shine.

The Brownies : Their Book

The original Brownie book, the first collection of Mr.
Cox's verse and pictures.

Another Brownie Book
The Brownies at Home
The Brownies Around the World

The Brownies Through the Union
Brownies Abroad
The Brownies in the Philippines
The Brownie Primer

Made up from all the Brownie books, for schools and
for all little children. Price 40 cents net.

Brownie Clown of Brownietown

One hundred pages of Brownie quaintness and jolly
fun and ridiculous doings, with many of the old favor-
ites, and some new characters playing pranks. All
in color. Price $1.00.

THE QUEEN SILVER-BELL SERIES

By Frances Hodgson Burnett

Of all the delightful stories for the young in heart by the
author of " Little Lord Fauntleroy," none is quite so deli-
ciously whimsical and fascinating as her series of " Queen
Silver-Bell" fairy tales, dainty, quaint stories in which Queen
Silver-Bell tells all about how she lost her temper, and, to
prove to mortals that there are fairies, sets out to write of
their funny, pretty, helpful pranks and doings. And these
are her stories :

Queen Silver-Bell

Telling not only how the tiny queen lost her fairy tem-
per and the dire results thereof, but of " How Winnie
Hatched the Little Rooks."

Racketty-Packetty House

All about a delightful family of lovable children and
even more lovable dolls, as dear a story as was ever
written.

The Cozy Lion

A most delightful bit of nonsense — imagine a cozy
lion — with the fantastic and tender strain in the telling
characteristic of Mrs. Burnett.

The Spring Cleaning

Dear little Bunch, and the dear, dear Primrose World,
and the beautiful Primrose Day party, all appeal to
the heart of every child.

Four exquisite little books, each with twenty pictures in color by
Harrison Cady. Price 60 cents each.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

One of These for the Wide-awake Lad

Across the Atlantic

The Wireless Man

How It Works

Talking Across the Atlantic

Some Stirring Wireless Rescues

Novel Uses of Wireless
Wireless in the Army
Wireless in the Navy
The Wireless Detective
Three Heroes of the Wireless

Thirty-two interesting illustrations from photographs.
\imo, 250 pages. Price $1 .20 net, postage 1 1 cents.

By the Same Author.

The Boys' Book of Model Aeroplanes

The ideal book for every one who has been caught in the fascination
of model aeroplane experimenting.

Helpfully illustrated. Price $1.20 net, postage 14 cents.

The Second Boys' Book of Model Aeroplanes

Covering up to date the science and sport of model aeroplane building
and flying, both in this country and abroad.

Over 100 illustrations. Price $1.20 net, postage II cents.

The Battle of Base-ball

By C. H. Claudy

Give it to every lad who is a base-ball fan. (What lad is n't?)
A book which gets at the heart of the great American game,
and tells of it from a boy's standpoint— every page snappy and
alive. The author himself is " crazy about base-ball."

Christy Mathewson tells " How I Became a 'Big-League'
Pitcher," and there are pages of pictures from photographs of
famous players, managers, and base-ball fields.
Price $1.50 net, postage 1 1 cents.

For every one of the 100,000 lads operating their own wireless stations

The Wireless Man

By Francis Arnold Collins

There is all the fascination of a story of imaginative
adventure in these records of actual, every-day achievements
in the wonderful world of wireless. It explains just what
wireless electricity is in delightful, readable style ; recounts a
host of true stories of wireless adventure on land and sea,
and gives the wireless amateur much valuable information.
CHAPTER HEADS:

THE

WIRELESS

MAN

FRANCIS A COLLINS

THE SECOND

BOYS'BOOK/

MODEL
AEROPLANES

I FRANCIS A. COLLINS

THE BATTLE
OF BASEBALL

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

iTiBtmrni

JTkl

For many other delightful books for boys and girls of all ages, send for The Century Co.'s
"Classified List of Books for Young Folks" — a helpful friend in your Christmas planning.

By the author of " The Melting of Molly

Sue Jane

h\c

Zmi

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fi"l"

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^*— ■-,--..- — -.->■- ----- ■- -,..■■■--. ^..-£—**~M

'N view of the fact that there are
, on the market at the present
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, preparations of inferior quality,
some of them put up in imitation
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imi^mMmwwm

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«^

"RING A RING O' ROSES."

PAINTED FOR ST. NICHOLAS BY ARTHUR RACKHAM.

(J3) A. R.

ST. NICHOLAS

Vol. XL

DECEMBER, 1912

No. 2

' i%1r&3 Ufflm^Mk-j^

Ring a ring o' roses
A pocket full of posies!

Hush! Hush! Hush! Hush!
We all fall down together!

Little Tommy Tucker
Sings for his supper.
What shall he eat?
White bread and butter.

How can he cut it
Without e'er a knife?
How can he marry
Without e'er a wife?

13-14.

eWijari
(ioemaker

B^ W inthrop Packard

7*S-v

,5
t

1
^

There was a boy who shot an arrow at a tree.
It flew swift and straight, but glanced from the
tree and tore a big hole in the leather apron of a
shoemaker who was standing near. Soon the
boy came running up, saying, "Please excuse me
for thus tearing your apron. I shot at a tree, but
the arrow glanced."

But the shoemaker was very angry, and said :
"I am a wizard shoemaker, and unless you mend
my apron so that it is as whole as it was before,
I do not know what I shall do to you, but it will
be something dreadful. There is but one kind of
needle that will mend a wizard shoemaker's lea-
ther apron, and neither man can give it to you,
nor woman can give it to you. There is but one
kind of thread that will do it, and neither man
can give it to you, nor woman .can give it to you ;
and there is but one kind of leather that will suf-
fice, and neither man nor woman can give that
to you. So, however hard you try, you will fail,
and I shall have my revenge."

"These things," said the boy, "I shall try to
find, and, by good fortune, I may do it."

So he set forth in the world, going up and
down in it, by wood and field, seeking for
needle, thread, and leather. He had
passed many a pleasant field and many a
tall forest, when, at an open space in the
wood, he suddenly heard a cry for help.

"Help !" it said, "I am drowning !" Nor
could he see water in which any one could drown.
But he followed the direction whence the call
came, and presently he found a deep well, and
heard a splash and the cry from the water below.

r:_

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— --Sr~

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~— — *-W

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• ar

"Be of good cheer," he called down, "I am
coming to help you." Then he began to descend,
putting his fingers and toes firmly in the chinks
between the stones, and taking care lest he fall.
In the dark water at the bottom, he found some-
thing splashing. This he lifted carefully to his
shoulder, and climbed out again. When he had
set it upon the ground, he saw that it was a por-
cupine, that shook the water from its quills, and
said:

"Thank you, kind boy, for taking me from the
well. I should surely have drowned had you not
come to my rescue. Because you helped me,
what can I do to help you?"

"I am glad to have aided you, but I fear there
is nothing you can do to help me," replied the
boy; "I am journeying far to find a certain kind
of needle. This morning I shot my arrow at a
tree, but it glanced, and tore a big hole in the
wizard shoemaker's leather apron. I must mend
this, or he will do me harm, and to do it I must
have a certain kind of needle which neither man
can give me, nor woman can give me ; so I do
not see how I am to get it."

Then the porcupine smiled. "Perhaps
I can help you in that, little brother," he
said. "Take hold of one of those long
quills in my back, and shut your eyes, and
do just as I bid you."

This the boy did, and the porcupine
said: "Pull, little brother; pull as hard as
can!" The boy pulled, and felt the quill
coming out of the porcupine's back as he pulled.
So he stopped pulling, not wishing to injure his

then
you

THE WIZARD SHOEMAKER

friend. But the porcupine said again : "Pull as
hard as you can, I tell you; never mind me !"

So again the boy pulled, and he felt the quill
come out in his hands. Then the porcupine said :
"Open your eyes, little brother, and let us see
what we have here."

So the boy opened his eyes, but, to his aston-
ishment, instead of a porcupine's quill in his
hands he found a long, keen, steel needle that he,
somehow, knew was just the thing to mend the
wizard shoemaker's leather apron.

So he said to the porcupine : "Thank you, good
porcupine, for giving me this splendid needle."

But the porcupine replied : "Thanks should be
from me, for I surely should have drowned if
you had not come to my aid. Besides, I go up
and down in the world quite a bit, and I have al-
ways seen you helping some one ; and I am sure
that a boy who helps others will find help him-
self."

So the boy stuck the needle carefully under the
lapel of his coat, and went on his way. He had
passed many a sunny hollow and many a shady
wood, when he heard a deep "Moo-oo" of dis-
tress, and ran in the direction whence the sound
came. Soon, in a sunny glade, he found a big
mother-cow, calling loudly and looking this way
and that, while tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Why, good mother-cow !" the boy cried,,
"what is the matter?"

"Alas !" said the cow, "I have lost my little
calf. Always he waits for me in this sunny
glade, but to-day I came back, and he is not here.
I do not dare go to hunt for him lest he come
while I am gone, so I can only stand here and
call."

"Be of good cheer," said the boy, "I will help
you find your little calf. Wait here, and I will
bring him back to you" ; and off he ran as fast
as he could.

He had passed many a flowering shrub and
many an ancient tree, when he came to a dark
space in a tall wood whence came a faint cry of
"Ma-a ! Ma-a !" and he knew that he heard the
voice of the little calf. Out of a big box-trap it
came, one that men had set to catch a bear alive.
Into this the little calf had wandered, and had
sprung it.

"Be of good cheer," called the boy, "I will soon
let you out." And he pulled with all his might at
the door of the trap. But it had been made
strong enough to hold a bear, and he could not
move it. So he said again: "Be of good cheer, I
will find some one stronger than I am to help
me pull, and we will let you out." And on he
ran as fast as he could.

As he ran, he heard a sound of laughter com-

ing from a sunny glade, and there he saw a big
donkey, sitting down in the grass, his hind legs
sticking straight out in front of him, his front
hoofs planted between them, and his head wag-
ging up and down, and his ears flopping. Every
time he wagged his head he laughed, "Hee ha-aw !
Hee ha-aw !" and, seeing him, the boy looked
about in astonishment.

"Why, good donkey," he said, "what is the
joke?"

"I am," replied the donkey, "and I am laughing
at myself. Every day I draw big loads and love
to do it, for I am quite the strongest donkey any-
where about. But to-day I thought I would have
a vacation and rest here in the sun, and, do you
know, I am so homesick for a good load to pull,
that I do not know what to do."

"Good !" said the boy, "come with me, and I
will find for you the hardest pull you ever had."
Whereupon the donkey leaped to his feet, and
ran with the boy toward the bear trap, laughing,
"Hee ha-aw ! Hee ha-aw !" as he went, so glad
was he that he was to find hard work once more.

At the bear trap, the boy fastened the donkey
securely to the door, took hold himself, and both
pulled as hard as they could. It was a strong
door, but nothing could withstand the joyous pull
of that donkey, and with a crash they ripped it
off the trap. The calf trotted out immediately,
but neither he nor the boy had time to properly
thank the donkey, who went right on, up the hill
and through the wood, dragging the door after
him, and laughing all the way in his joy at find-
ing such hard work to do.

But the boy and calf ran as fast as they could
to the sunny glade where the big mother-cow was
waiting for them. Very glad, indeed, she was to
see the calf, and soon he was eating his dinner
while the mother-cow cried a little still, but now
for joy, and smoothed his ruffled fur with her
big red tongue.

"Thank you, kind boy," she said, "for finding
my little calf. I do not know what I should have
done without your help. Now tell me, what can
I do to help you?"

"I am glad to have aided you," replied the boy,
"but I fear there is nothing you can do to help
me. I am journeying far to find a certain kind
of thread. This morning I shot my arrow at a
tree, but it glanced, and tore a big hole yi the
wizard shoemaker's leather apron. I must mend
this, or he will do me harm, and to do it I must
have a certain kind of thread which neither man
can give me, nor woman can give me ; so I do not
see how I am to get it."

Then the cow smiled. "Perhaps I can help
you in that, little brother," she said. "Take hold

100

THE WIZARD SHOEMAKER

[Dec,

l^TI

of those long hairs in my tail, shut your eyes, and do just what
I tell you."

This the boy did, and the cow then said: "Pull, little brother;
pull as hard as you can." The boy pulled, and soon he felt the
hairs coming out in his hands.

Then the cow said : "Open your eyes, little brother, and let us
see what we have here."

So the boy opened his eyes, but, to his astonishment, instead
of hairs his hands were full of just the finest kind of brown
threads, just the thing, he was sure, to mend the wizard shoe-
maker's leather apron.

"Thank you, kind cow," said he, "for giving me this splendid
thread."

But the cow replied: "Thanks should be from me. I should
never have seen my calf again without your help. Besides, I go
up and down in the world quite a bit, and always I have seen
you helping some one, and I am quite sure that a boy who helps
others deserves help himself."

So the boy put the thread carefully in his pocket, and went on
his way. He had passed many a sandy hillside and many a
rocky cliff, when he again heard a cry for help. This seemed
to come from a cave among big rocks, and when he ran into it,
he saw there a bat that had been caught by a big snake.

"Help !" cried the bat, and the boy replied by snatching up a
big stone and throwing it at the snake. It hit him— tunk— and
the snake turned an inquiring eye upon the boy, who imme-
diately caught up another, larger stone, and hit the snake with
a louder tunk. Thereupon the snake turned both eyes in-
quiringly on the boy, and, seeing him pick up a third even larger

♦ ♦

«4

THE WIZARD SHOEMAKER

••*

101

stone, he dropped the bat, and glided with much haste far down
into holes among the stones at the bottom of the cave.

"Thank you, kind boy," said the bat, "for saving me from that
dreadful snake ; but I am bitten so deep that I fear now I shall
die unless I can anoint my wound with some of the honey-dew
bee-balm that is made at the hive of the fairy bees."

"Be of good cheer," said the boy, "I will bring this balm.
Wait for me here, and I will soon be back." And away he ran
as fast as he could to the hive of the fairy bees. There he saw
a big working bee, pausing a moment on the door-step with a
load of wax.

He was about to speak, when the busy bee said : "I know what
you are after. I go everywhere for miles, and I see everything.
You want balm for the injured bat up in the cave. Wait here
for me a moment, and I will bring it out for you. But please
keep very quiet, for within they are putting some of the baby
bees to sleep."

"I will keep very quiet," said the boy, and soon he saw the
busy bee coming out.

"Well !" said the bee, "I 'm glad to see you again. Here is an
acorn-cup full of honey-dew bee-balm for your friend up in the
cave."

The boy took the balm, thanked the bee, and ran as fast as he
could to the cave, where he found the bat still alive, though
feeling quite weak. No sooner had they rubbed the balm on his
wound, however, than he revived, and the wound healed im-
mediately.

"Thank you, kind boy," said the bat, "for bringing me this
balm, without which I should surely have died. You have been

* t. #

102

THE WIZARD SHOEMAKER

[Dec,

"-^

of great help to me ; what can I

do to help you?"

"I am glad to have aided

you," said the boy, "but I fear
I — ._* — iLJ there is nothing you can do to

help me. I am journeying far
to find a certain kind of leather. This morning
I shot my arrow at a tree, but it glanced, and tore
a big hole in the wizard shoemaker's leather
apron. I must mend this, or he will do me harm,
and to do it I must have a certain kind of leather
which neither man can give me, nor woman can
give me ; so I do not see how I am to get it."

Then the bat smiled and said : "Perhaps I can
help you in that, little brother. Take hold of my
wing, shut yonr eyes, and do just what I tell
you."

This the boy did, and the bat then said: "Pull,
little brother ; pull as hard as you can !" The boy

said: "Open your eyes, little .
brother, and let us see what we
have here."

To the boy's astonishment, the
bat still had two wings, and in
his hand, instead of one of them,
was the softest and finest leather he had ever
seen, just the kind, he was sure, to mend the wiz-
ard shoemaker's leather apron.

"Thank you, good bat," he said, "for giving
me this splendid leather."

But the bat replied : "Thanks should be from
me. I should have died without your help, and
besides, I go up and down in the world quite a
bit, and I have always seen you helping some
one ; and I am very sure that a boy who helps
others deserves help himself."

So the boy put the leather carefully in his
other pocket, and started for the village where

WIZARD SHOEMAKER WAS SO ENRAGED THAT HE SPRANG
CLEAR TO THE CEILING." (SEE PAGE 103.)

did, but when he felt the bat's wing coming off
in his hands, he stopped, for he did not wish to
injure his friend. But the bat said again: "Pull
as hard as you can, I tell you; do not mind me !"
So again the boy pulled, and soon he felt the
bat's wine come off in his hands. Then the bat

he knew the wizard shoemaker was waiting to
see him come back unsuccessful. But, running
as fast as he could, he paused at a pond where he
saw three dragon-flies, one silver, one gold, and
one blue in color. Driven by a sudden gust of
wind into the water, they were about to drown.

igi2.]

THE WIZARD SHOEMAKER

103

"Great as is my haste," said the boy, "I cannot
leave these gentle creatures to drown." So he
ran to a boat that was near by, paddled to the
dragon-flies, lifted them to the gunwale of the
boat with his paddle, then paddled ashore and
started again, leaving the dragon-flies drying
their wings in the sun. But before he was gone,
they called to him.

"Thank you, kind boy," they said. "We fly
everywhere, and we shall surely know when you
are in trouble, and come to your aid."

"So !" said the wizard shoemaker when he saw
the boy, "you have come back unsuccessful.
Neither man nor woman could give you that
needle, so how could you expect to get it, I should
like to know !"

"But I have the needle !" said the boy. "My
friend the porcupine gave it to me."

The wizard was so enraged at this that he
sprang high in air and came down on the floor
with a bang that made the windows rattle. "The
thread !" he said, "you never could get the thread !
Neither man nor woman could give it to you, so
how could you expect to get it?"

"But I have the thread !" said the boy. "My
good friend the mother-cow gave it to me."

Thereupon the wizard sprang again in air,
coming down with two bangs on the floor, mak-
ing the windows rattle twice. "But the leather !"
he cried, "you never could get the leather ! Of
that I am sure !"

"I have the leather," replied the boy. "My
good friend the bat gave it to me."

This time the wizard jumped higher yet, and
the bang with which he came down made the
windows rattle three times. Then he smiled a
cunning smile. "Oh, well !" he said, "you never
can mend it, for all that."

But the boy took the apron and tried, for all
that. Strange to say, he could do little. The
needle unthreaded itself as fast as threaded, and
the leather persistently curled out of place. He
was almost in despair, and the wizard shoemaker

was fairly dancing for joy at his ill success,
when the three dragon-flies came sailing up. The
silver one and the gold one took the wizard shoe-
maker by each ear and held his head back against
the wall. He was in great fear of them, and was
trembling like a leaf.

Then the blue one said gently : "Let me show
you, little brother. See," he said, "the needle
has two ends ; let us try the other end. The
thread has two ends as well; let us try the other
end of that."

The boy did so, and the thread fairly leaped
into the eye of the needle and remained there.

"Now," said the dragon-fly, "observe that a
piece of leather has two sides; let us try the
other side."

The boy did so, whereupon the leather fairly
cuddled into place, and the needle seemed to fly
back and forth through it of itself, the thread
making so fine a stitch that, when the work was
done, which it soon was, the apron showed no
patch, nor any sign of one, but was as whole as
it had ever been.

When the dragon-flies released the wizard
shoemaker, and he saw this, he was so enraged
that he sprang clear to the ceiling, banging his
head against it, and had no sooner alighted on
the floor than he rushed with bowed head through
the door, butting it open in his haste ; rushed
through his front fence in the same way, and
went on across a field and through the neighbor-
ing wood, where he soon was out of sight ; but
he could be heard for long after, bang-butting
his way along among the trees.

No one has ever seen him come back, but the
people of that town, to this day, when they hear
a sudden wind crashing through the forest, smile
and say, "There goes the wizard shoemaker!"

As for the boy, he did not wait even a minute
to .see whether the wizard shoemaker came back
or not, but ran home to tell his mother all about
it ; and I think that he ran faster then than at
any other time during the day.

END

PHRONEY S

Jw_3
ti FRANK BAUM

AUTHOR OF
THE "OZ "BOOKS,

The boy realized he had made a mistake before fluid they could absorb. Slowly, with staggering

he had driven the big touring car a half-mile
along this dreadful lane. The map had shown
the road to Fennport clearly enough, but it was
such a roundabout way that, when the boy came
to this crossing, he decided to chance it, hoping
it would get him to Fennport much quicker. The
landscape was barren of interest, the farm-houses
few and far between, and the cross-road seemed
as promising as the main way. Meanwhile, at
Fennport, the county fair was progressing, and
there was no use wasting time on the road.

The promise faded after a short stretch ; ruts
and ditches appeared ; rotten culverts and sandy
hollows threatened the safety of the car. The
boy frowned, but doggedly kept going. He must
be fully half-way to another road by this time,
and, if he could manage to keep on without break-
ing a spring or ripping a tire, it would be as well
to continue as to turn back.

Suddenly the engines began muttering and
hesitated in doing their duty. The boy caught
the warning sound, and instantly divined the
reason : he had forgotten to replenish the gaso-
lene before starting, and the tank was about
empty. Casting a quick, inquiring glance around,
he saw the roof of a farm-house showing through
the trees just ahead. That was a joyful sight,
for he had scarcely dared hope to find a building
upon this unused, seemingly abandoned lane.
He adjusted the carbureter, and urged the en-
gines to feed upon the last drops of the precious

gait, the automobile pushed forward until just
opposite the farm-house, when, with a final
moan, the engines gave up the struggle, and the
car stopped dead.

Then the boy turned and looked at the lonely
dwelling. It was a small, primitive sort of build-
ing, ancient and weather-stained. There was a
simple garden at the front, which faced the grove
and not the lane, and farther along, stood a rick-
ety, rambling barn that was considerably larger
than the house.

Upon a tiny side porch of the dwelling, directly
facing the road, sat an old woman with a battered
tin pan full of rosy-cheeked apples in her lap.
She was holding a knife in one hand and a half-
pared apple in the other. Her mouth was wide
open in amazement, her spectacled eyes staring
fixedly at the automobile— as if it had been a
magical apparition and the boy a weird necro-
mancer who had conjured it up.

He laughed a little at the amusing expression
of the old woman, for he was a good-humored
boy in spite of his present vexations. Then, spring-
ing to the ground, he walked toward the porch
and removed his cap, to make a graceful bow.
She did not alter her pose, and, with eyes still
fixed upon the car, she gasped :

"Laws-a-me ! ef it ain't one o' them no-hoss
keeridges."

"Nothing wonderful about that, is there?"
asked the boy, smiling, as he reached the porch.

AUNT 'PHRONEY'S BOY

105

"Why not?" said she; "ain't they the mos'
wunnerful things in all the world? Mart'n
Luther 's seen 'em in town, an' told me about
'em, but I never thought as I 'd see one with my
own eyes."

Her awe and interest were so intense that, as
yet, she had not glanced once at the boy's face.
He laughed, in his quiet way, as he leaned over
the porch rail, but it occurred to him that there
was something pathetic in the fact that the lonely
old woman had never seen an automobile before.

"Don't you ever go to town yourself?" he
asked curiously.

She shook her head. "Not often, though some-
times I do," she replied. "Went to Fennport
a year ago las' June, an' put in a whole day
there. But it tired me, the waggin jolts so. I 'm
too old now fer sech doin's, an' Mart'n Luther
'lows it ain't wuth payin' toll-gate both ways for.
He has to go sometimes, you know, to sell truck
an' buy groceries ; he 's there to-day, 'tendin' the
county fair; but I 've stayed home an' minded
my own business 'til I hain't got much hankerin'
fer travel any more."

During this speech, she reluctantly withdrew
her eyes from the automobile and turned them
upon the boy's face. He was regarding her placid
features with a wonder almost equal to her own.
It seemed so strange to find one so isolated and
secluded from the world, and so resigned to such
a fate.

"No near neighbors?" he said.

"The Bascomes live two miles north, but Mis'
Bascome an' I don't git on well. She ain't never
had religion."

"But you go to church ?"

"Certain sure, boy ! But our church ain't town
way, you know ; it 's over to Hobbs' Corners.
Ev'ry Sunday fer the las' year, I 've been lookin'
out fer them no-hoss waggins, thinkin' one might
pass the Corners. But none ever did."

"This is a queer, forsaken corner of the
world," the boy said reflectively, "and yet it 's
in the heart of one of the most populous and
progressive States in the Union."

"You 're right 'bout that," she agreed. "Silas
Herrin 's bought the lates' style thrash'n' -ma-
chine—all painted red— an' I guess the county
fair at Fennport makes the rest o' the world
open its eyes some. We 're ahead of 'em all on
progressing as Mart'n Luther 's said more 'n
once."

"Who is Martin Luther?" asked the boy.

"He 's my man. His name 's Mart'n Luther
Sager, an' I 'm Aunt 'Phroney Sager— the which
my baptism name is 5"ophroney. Mart'n Luther
were named fer the great Meth'dis' leader. He

had a hankerin' to be a Baptis' in his young days,
but he das n't with such a name. So he j'ined
the Meth'dists to make things harmoni'us, an'
he 's never regretted it."

The boy smiled in an amused way, but he did
not laugh at her. There was something in her
simple, homely speech, as well as in the expres-
sion of her face, that commanded respect. Her
eyes were keen, yet gentle ; her lips firm, yet smil-
ing; her aged, wrinkled features complacent and
confident, yet radiating a childlike innocence.

"Ain't ye 'fraid to run the thing?" she asked,
reverting to the automobile.

"No, indeed. It 's as simple as a sewing-
machine— when you know how."

"I 'd like to see it go. It come so sudden-like
past the grove that when I looked up, you 'd
stopped short."

"I 'd like to see it go myself, Aunt 'Phroney,"
the boy answered; "but it won't move a step
unless you help it. Just think, ma'am, you 've
never seen a motor-car before, and yet the big
machine can't move without your assistance !"

She knew he was joking, and returned his
merry smile; but the speech puzzled her.

"As how, boy?" she inquired.

"The 'no-hoss keeridge' is a hungry monster,
and has to be fed before he '11 work. I hope you
will feed him, Aunt 'Phroney."

"On what?"

"Gasolene. I forgot to fill up the tank before
I started, and now the last drop is gone."

"Gasolene !" she exclaimed, with a startled
look; "why, we don't keep gasolene, child. How
on earth did you expec' to find sech a thing in a
farm-house?"

"Don't you cook with gasolene ?" he asked.

"My, no ! We use good chopped wood— splin-
ters an' knots. Mis' Bascome had a gas'lene stove
once, but it bu'sted an' set fire to the baby; so
they buried it in the back yard."

"The baby?"

"No, boy; the stove. They managed to put
the baby out."

The statement puzzled him, but his mind was
more on the gasolene.

"Does n't your husband use gasolene around
the farm?" he inquired.

"No, 'ndeed."

"And you have n't any naphtha or benzine-
just a little?"

"Not a drop."

"Nor alcohol?"

"Mercy, no !"

The boy's face fell. "Where is the nearest
place I might get some gasolene?" he asked.

"Lemme see. Harpers' might have it— that 's

106

AUNT 'PHRONEY'S BOY

[Dec,

six mile' west— or Clark's store might have some,
at Everdale. That 's seven mile' off, but I ain't
sure they keep it. The only place they 're sure
to have it is over to Fennport, which is 'leven
mile' from here by the turnpike."

The boy considered all this seriously. "Can I
borrow a horse from you — and a buggy?" he
asked.

"Mart'n Luther 's gone to town with the only
team we own. We ain't had a buggy fer twenty-
two years."

He sighed, and sat down on the steps, looking
disconsolately toward the big touring car that
was now so helpless. Aunt 'Phroney resumed
her task of paring the apples, but now and then
she also would glance admiringly at the auto-
mobile.

"Come far?" she presently inquired.

"From Durham."

"To-day? Why, Durham 's thirty mile' from
here."

"I know; that 's only an hour's run, with good
roads."

"Mercy me !"

"But the roads are not good in this neighbor-
hood. I wanted to run over to Fennport to see
the fair. I thought there might be some fun
there, and I 'd jog over this morning and run
back home to-night. That would n't have been
any trick at all, if I had n't forgotten the gaso-
lene."

"Live in Durham?" she asked.

"Yes ; Father has the bank there."

"Pretty big town, I 've heard."

"Why, it 's only a village. And a stupid, tire-
some village at that. Lonely, too. That 's why
Father got this touring car; he said it would help
to amuse me. May I have an apple?"

Aunt 'Phroney smiled indulgently, and handed
him an apple from the pan. The idea of one who
lived in the thriving, busy town of Durham be-
coming lonely filled her with amusement. For
her part, she had n't left the old farm-house,
except to go to church, for nearly two years,
and days at a time she never saw a human being
other than her silent, morose husband. Yet she
was not lonely — not really lonely— only at times
did her isolation weigh upon her spirits.

"Got a mother, child?" she softly inquired.

He nodded, biting the apple.

"Mother 's an invalid. She does n't leave her
own rooms, and keeps two trained nurses and a
special cook, and she studies social science— and .
such things."

"What does that mean ?"

"I don't know ; it 's only a name to Father and
me. But Father has the bank to interest him,

and as I 'm not ready for the bank yet, he lets
me run the automobile."

Aunt 'Phroney gave him a pitying look.

"Guess I un'erstan' your hist'ry now," she said
gently. "You need n't say no more 'bout it.
Hev another apple?"

"I will, thank you. They 're fine. Grow 'em
here?"

"Yes. Mart'n Luther 's entered a peck at the
county fair, an' hopes to git the premium. It 's
two dollars, in cash. He 's put up our Plymouth
Rock rooster an' some pertaters fer prizes, too,
an' seein' he 's entered 'em, it don't cost him
anything to get into the fair grounds— only the
ten cents fer toll-gate."

"Why did n't you go with him?" asked the boy.

Aunt 'Phroney flushed a little. "That 's some
more hist'ry— the kind that 's better not studied,"
she remarked quietly. "Mart'n Luther took it
from his pa, I guess. His pa once cried like a
baby when he lost four cents through a hole in
his pocket. After that, ev'ry penny was kep'
strapped up in his leather pocket-book, which
were never unstrapped without a groan. Yes,
Mart'n Luther 's a' honest man, an' God-fearin' ;
but I guess he takes after his pa."

The boy finished his apple.

"Come out and see our touring car," he said.
"I rd like to show it to you, although I' can't take
you to ride in it."

"Thank you," she eagerly replied. "I '11 come
in a minute. Let me git this apple-sass started
cookin' first."

She went into the kitchen with the apples, but
soon came back, and with a brisk air followed
the boy across the patch of rank grass to the
road.

"I can't walk six miles or more, you know," he
remarked, "and lug a can of gasolene back with
me ; so I '11 have to wait until your husband
comes back to-night with the team. You don't
mind my staying with you, do you ?"

"Of course not," she answered. "I like boys
—boys like you, that is. We — we never had no
children of our own."

He showed her all the parts of the automobile,
and explained how they worked and what they
were for, all in a simple way that enabled her
readily to understand. She was in a flutter of
excitement at her close proximity to the wonder-
ful invention, and the luxury of the seats and
interior fittings filled her with awe. At first, he
could not induce Aunt 'Phroney to enter the car
and sit down upon the soft cushions, but, after
much urging, she finally yielded, and was frankly
delighted at the experience.

"It must 'a' cost a lot o' money," she observed.

igi2.]

AUNT 'PHRONEY'S BOY

107

"I guess your pa is pretty good to you. Like
enough he did n't take after any one with a
strapped pocket-book."

"No," laughed the boy; "Father is always kind
to me. But I wish — I wish — "

"What, child?"

"I wish we lived together on a farm like this,

we shall need in
what he needs, I

good deal more here than
heaven. Does any one get
wonder ?"

"Some may, but not many,"
fully. "Some of us don't get even gasolene, you
know. Funny, ain't it, how such a little thing '11
spoil a great big creation like this? Why, in

she rejoined cheer-

1 IT WAS NEARLY ELEVEN O'CLOCK. WHEN THEY ENTERED THE FAIR GROUNDS." (SEE PAGE I09.)

where we could enjoy each other. All day he 's
at the bank, you know."

"If he worked the farm," said the woman, "you
would n't see much of him then, either, 'cept at
meal-time. Mart'n Luther gits up at daylight,
works in the fields all day, an' goes to bed after
supper. In heaven we may find time to enjoy
the sassiety of our friends, but p'r'aps there '11
be so much company there, it won't matter."

"I think," said the boy, solemnly, "we need a

some ways, it beats Silas Herrin's new thrash'n'-
machine ; but it ain't so useful, 'cause the
thrash'n'-machine runs along the road without
horses to where it wants to go, an' then its in-
jynes do the thrashin' better 'n hands can do it."

"I 've never really examined one," he replied
thoughtfully; "it must be very interesting."

"Come into the barn," she said, "an' I '11 show
you Silas Herrin's new one. He brought it here
yest'day, but he an' all his crew are at the fair

108

AUNT 'PHRONEY'S BOY

[Dec,

to-day, an' they won't begin thrashin' our crop
till nex' Monday."

He followed her to the barn, willing to while
away the time examining the big thresher. It
filled nearly all the clear space on the barn floor,
and towered half as high as the haymow. With
its bright red body and diverse mechanical parts,
the machine certainly presented an imposing ap-
pearance. The boy examined it with much curi-
osity.

"There are two distinct engines," he said mus-
ingly ; "one a motor, I suppose, and one to do the
work. The big one runs by steam, but this smaller
one seems a gasolene engine."

"Perhaps it is," said the woman ; "I never had
it explained to me like you did your own ma-
chine."

"If it is," he suddenly exclaimed, "there must
be some gasolene among Mr. Herrin's traps to
run it with! If I can only find it, I '11 borrow
enough to get me to Fennport."

Eagerly, now, he began the search, the woman
looking on with interest. In a short time, he
drew out from the interior of the thresher a ten-
gallon can, which proved to be filled with the
fluid he sought.

"Hooray !" he cried joyfully. "We '11 have our
ride, after all, Aunt 'Phroney."

"It — it ain't stealin', is it?" she asked doubt-
fully. "This all b'longs to Silas Herrin, you
know."

"It 's a law of the road, ma'am, that any one
needing gasolene has the right to help himself —
if he pays for what he takes. I '11 pay Silas Her-
rin a good price, and he '11 have plenty left to run
his engine with."

He got a bucket, measured out about three gal-
lons, and placed a silver dollar on top of the can
for payment. Then, when he had "fed" his auto-
mobile, an operation watched carefully by the
old woman, the boy turned and said :

"Aunt 'Phroney, I 've a proposition to make.
Get on your things, and I '11 take you to the fair
at Fennport and give you a good time."

"Land sakes, boy!" she cried, holding up both
hands ; "I could n't think of it."

"Why not?"

"There 's the work to do."

"Cut it out for to-day. Martin Luther 's hav-
ing a holiday, and I 'm sure you 're entitled to
one, too."

"He— he might be mad."

"I don't see why. It won't cost him a cent, you
know, and perhaps we won't see him at all. We '11
have a good dinner somewhere, see all the sights,
have a fine auto ride, and I '11 fetch you home in
plenty of time to get supper for your husband."

The temptation was too strong to be resisted. •
Aunt 'Phroney's face broke into a beaming smile,
and she hurried into the house to get on her "bes'
bib an' tucker."

Her reappearance caused the boy's eyes to
twinkle. She wore a plain, black gown, baggy
and ill made, an old-fashioned "Peasley" shaw1,
wrapped around her shoulders, and a wonderful
hat that no milliner would have recognized as
modern head-gear. But the boy did not mind.
He helped her to the seat beside him, saw that
she was comfortable, and started the engines
slowly, so as not to alarm her.

The lane from the farm-house to the Fennport
turnpike was in much better condition than the
other end, which Aunt 'Phroney said was seldom
used by any one. They traversed it with merely
a few bumps, and on reaching the turnpike glided
along so smoothly, that the old woman was in
an ecstasy of delight.

"I almos' hope Mart'n Luther will see us," she
remarked. "Would n't he be s'prised, though,
to see me in this stylish no-hoss keeridge ?"

"I think he would," said the boy.

"An' jealous, too. Mart'n Luther says I take
life easier ner he does, 'though my work 's jus'
as hard fer me as his is fer him. Only diff'rence
is, I don't complain."

"Is— is your husband a poor man?" the boy
hazarded.

"Goodness, no ! Mart'n Luther 's pretty well
off, I 'm told. Not by him, mind you. He only tells
me what he can't afford. But our minister once
said he would n't be s'prised if Mart'n Luther
had a thousan' dollars laid up ! It 's a pretty
good farm, an' he works it himself. An' he 's so
keerful o' spendin'."

"Does n't he give you money for— for clothes
and — and things?"

"Oh, yes ; he 's good 'bout that. We made an
agreement, once, an' he 's stuck to it like a man.
Ev'ry New-Year's, he gives me five dollars for
dresses an' hats, an' ev'ry Fourth o' July I git
fifty cents an' no questions asked."

The boy's eyes grew big at this.

"Does n't he spend anything on himself,
either?" he inquired.

"A little, of course. He gits his clo's second-
hand from the drug-store keeper, who 's about
the same size as Mart'n Luther, but some fatter,
an' he puts five cents in the contribution box
ev'ry Sunday, an' — an' — well, there 's the toll-
gate he has to pay for ev'ry time he goes to
town. That toll-gate makes him orful mad.
We 're comin' to it pretty soon. You don't mind,
do you ?"

"Not at all," he cried, laughing merrily.

1912.]

AUNT THRONEY'S BOY

109

'"Mart'n Luther 's savin', an' no mistake," she
continued musingly. "He would n't let me put
him up no lunch to-day, 'cause he said Tom
Dwyer would be sure to ask him to eat with him,
an' if he did n't, he could easy get hold o' some

GO AFORE I FAINT

fruit on exhibition. He said to save the food fer
his supper to-night, an' he 'd git along somehow."
'"He ought to be worth several thousand dol-
lars, at that rate," observed the boy, not without
indignation. "But what good is his money to him,
or to you, if he does n't enjoy it? You ought to
have a better allowance than you do, for you 've
certainly helped him to accumulate the money."

She heaved a little sigh.

"He says he can't afford any more," she re-
plied, "an' I 'm satisfied, as things be. I used to
long to buy pretty things an' go 'round, once in a
while, but I 've got all over that now. I 'm
happy, an' the Lord takes
keer o' me. Did n't He
send you here to-day with
the — this— orto — orto — ma-
chine o' yours?"

"I wonder if He did?"
returned the boy, gravely.
"Oh, here 's the dreadful
toll-gate, Aunt 'Phroney."

It was nearly eleven
o'clock when they entered
the big gate of the fair
grounds. The automobile
attracted considerable at-
tention, although there
were two or three others
in Fennport. As the boy
assisted Aunt 'Phroney
from the car, she was rec-
ognized by several acquain-
tances who frequented her
church, and it was good to
witness the old woman's
pride and satisfaction at
the looks of bewilderment
that greeted her. She took
the boy's arm and passed
through the crowd with her
chin well up, and presently
they were in the main pa-
vilion, where the largest
part of the display was
centered.

"Let 's look at the fruits
an' veg'tibles," she eagerly
exclaimed. "I want to see
if Mart'n Luther 's won
any prizes. Do you know,
boy, he promised me all the
money he won that come to
over four dollars?"
"Did he really?"
"Yes, he were feelin'
quite chirky this mornin',
'fore he left, so he promised it. But if he won
first prize on ev'rything, it 'd be only five dollars
altogether, so I guess he did n't risk much."

They found the fruits, but Martin Luther's red

apples had no ribbon on them, either blue or red.

"They don't look as good here, 'longside the

others, as they did to home," sighed Aunt

'Phroney; "so I guess the jedge was correc' in

110

AUNT 'PHRONEY'S BOY

[Dec,

lett'n' 'em pass by. Let 's see how the pertaters
turned out."

Martin Luther's potatoes had failed to win.
They lay just between the lots which had drawn
the first and second prizes, and even the boy's
inexperienced eyes could see they were inferior
to the others.

"They bake well," murmured Aunt 'Phroney,
"an' they bile jus' fine ; but they ain't so pretty as
them others, thet 's a fact. I guess Mart'n Luther
won't hev to give me any of his prize-money this
year— 'specially as he don't git any."

''Did n't you say you had a chicken in the
show ?" asked the boy.

"Yes, an' a mighty fine rooster he is, if I do
say it. I 've looked after him myself, ever since
he were an egg, an' he 's that high an' mighty,
I named him 'The Bishop.' Seems to me he '11
be hard to beat, but p'r'aps when he 's compared
to others, the Bishop '11 be like the apples an'
'taters."

"Where is he?"

"The poultry show '11 be in a tent somewheres."

"Let 's find him," said the boy, almost as inter-
ested as his companion.

They inquired the way, and, in passing through
the grounds to the poultry tent, they passed a
crowd surrounding one of those fakers so promi-
nent at every country fair. Aunt 'Phroney
wanted to see what was going on, so the boy
drew her dexterously through the circle of spec-
tators. As soon as they reached a place of ob-
servation, the old woman gave a violent start and
grabbed her escort's arm. A lean, round-shoul-
dered man with chin whiskers was tossing rings
at a board filled with jack-knives of all sizes and
shapes, in a vain endeavor to "ring" one of them.
He failed, and the crowd jeered. Then he drew
a leather wallet from his pocket, unstrapped it,
and withdrew a coin with which he purchased
more delusive rings. The boy felt Aunt 'Phroney
trembling beside him.

"See that ol' feller yonder?" she asked.

"Yes," said he.

"That 's Mart'n Luther !"

They watched him with breathless interest, but
not one of the rings he threw managed to cap-
ture a knife. Others tried them, undeterred by
the failure of the old farmer, and, after watching
them a short time, out came Martin Luther's
leather pocket-book again.

"Come !" whispered the woman, in deep dis-
tress ; "let 's go afore I faint dead away ! Who 'd
believe Mart'n Luther could be sech a spen'thrift
an' prodigal? I did n't b'lieve 't was in him."

The boy said nothing, but led her out of the
crowd. To solace his companion's grief, he

"treated" Aunt 'Phroney to pink lemonade, which
had the effect of decidedly cheering her up. They
found the poultry tent almost deserted, and, after
a brief search, the woman recognized the Bishop.
A man down the row of cages was even now
judging the fowls and attaching ribbons to the
winning birds as he went along.

"He '11 come to the Plymouth Rocks in a min-
ute," whispered Aunt 'Phroney ; "let 's wait an'
see what happens."

It did n't take the judge very long to decide.
Quite promptly he pinned a blue ribbon to the
Bishop's cage, and Aunt 'Phroney exclaimed :
"There ! we 've got a prize at last, boy!"

The judge looked up, saw the boy, and held out
his hand with a smile of recognition.

"Why, how are you, Mr. Carroll?" he ex-
claimed cordially; "I thought I was the only
Durham man on the grounds. Did you drive
your new car over?"

The boy nodded.

"They sent for me to judge this poultry show,"
continued the man, "but it 's the poorest lot of
alleged thoroughbreds I ever saw together. Not
a really good bird in the show."

"That ought to make your task easier," said
the boy.

"No, it makes it harder. For instance, there 's
the Sweepstakes Prize for the best bird of any
sort on exhibition. Tell me, how am I to make
such an award, where all are undeserving?"

"Very well, I '11 tell you," returned the boy,
audaciously. "If I were judging, I 'd give this
fellow"— pointing to the Bishop— "the Sweep-
stakes."

"Eh? This fellow?" muttered the judge, eying
Aunt 'Phroney's pet critically. "Why, I don't
know but you 're right, Mr. Carroll. I had it in
mind to give the Sweepstakes to that White
Leghorn yonder, but this Plymouth Rock seems
well set up and has good style."

The Bishop had recognized his mistress, and
was strutting proudly and showing to excellent
advantage. While the judge considered him, he
flapped his wings and gave a lusty crow.

"I '11 take back my statement," said the man.
"Here is a really good bird. Guess I '11 follow
your advice, Mr. Carroll" ; and he pinned a bright
yellow ribbon marked "Sweepstakes" next to the
blue one on the Bishop's cage.

Aunt 'Phroney drew a long breath. Her eyes
were sparkling.

"How much is the Sweepstakes, jedge?" she
inquired.

"It 's the largest money prize offered— twenty-
five dollars— and there 's a silver water-pitcher
besides. I 'm sorry such a liberal premium did

I9I2-]

AUNT 'PHRONEY'S BOY

111

"'TRY THIS ONE ON, AUNT 'PHRONEY,' URGED THE BOY." (SEE PAGE 112.)

not bring out a better display. But I must hurry
and make my report, for I want to catch the two
o'clock train home. Good day, Mr. Carroll."

As he bowed and left the tent, Aunt 'Phroney
was staring proudly at the Bishop.

"Twenty-five dollars !" she gasped, "an' two
dollars first prize for Plymouth Rocks ! Twenty-
seven dollars an' a silver pitcher ! Boy, do you
know what this means ? It means I '11 git twenty-
three dollars— an' Mart'n Luther '11 git jus' four."

"Will he keep his promise ?" the boy asked.

"Yes. Mart'n Luther 's a' honest man, an'
God-fearin' — but he ain't got much jedgment
'bout ringin' jack-knives. Dear me, who 'd ever
think he 'd turn out a squanderer?"

The boy took her away to the big dining-hall.
It was divided into two sections by a rail. On
one side was a sign reading: "Square Meal, 25c."
On the other side was the legend: "Regular Din-
ner, with Oysters and Ice-Cream, 50c."

Disregarding his companion's protests, the boy
led her into the latter section, which had few

patrons compared with the cheaper one. No
sooner had Aunt 'Phroney tucked her napkin
under her chin than she grew pale and stared
amazed across the rail. The boy's eyes followed
hers and recognized Martin Luther seated at a
table facing them, and eating with ravenous
industry.

"Twenty-five cents gone — an' he might 'a' took
the lunch I offered him !" wailed the old woman.
Perhaps the magnetism of their combined gaze
affected Martin Luther, for he raised his eyes
and encountered his wife's horrified stare. The
man was justified in being equally astonished.
Motionless, with a piece of beef poised half-way
to his mouth, he glared alternately at the strange
boy and at Aunt 'Phroney. His face betokened
bewilderment, shame at being discovered, and,
at the last,, an unreasoning panic. He slowly rose
to his feet, turned his back, and ignominiously
fled from the hall.

"Never mind," said the woman, her lips firmly
set, "he '11 know he 's got somethin' to explain

112

AUNT 'PHRONEY'S BOY

when he gits home ; an' if Mart'n Luther ever
hears the last o' them jack-knives an' his prodigal
'square meal,' my name ain't Sophroney Sager !"

After the dinner, with its accompanying luxu-
ries of oysters and ice-cream, was oyer, they saw
the balloon ascension and the races ; and then,
early in the afternoon, the boy put Aunt 'Phroney
into the touring car and they drove to Fenn-
port, where the tank was filled with gasolene.
During this operation, the boy noticed that the
old woman shivered slightly in the cool autumn
weather, and drew her thin shawl more closely
around her as she sat waiting" in the car.

"You ought to have brought a
heavy coat," he said. ^y

"Why I have n't got any," she
returned, smiling at him cheer-
fully.

"No coat ! What do you wear
in winter, when you go to church ?"
the boy asked.

"When it 's real cold, I wrap a
comforter 'round me on the way,
an' then wear this shawl into
church. Aunt Sally left it to me
when she died. It 's real Peasley."

"Get out of the car, please, Aunt
'Phroney," the boy said quietly.

"Why cert'nly, if you say so; but what for?"

"I had a birthday last week, and Father gave
me a check. I want to buy a present for my best
girl at this store, and I wish you to help me pick
it out."

She went in, then, full of interest, and the boy
whispered to the clerk, who began to display a
collection of thick, warm coats in sober colors.

"Try this one on, Aunt 'Phroney," urged the boy.
Suddenly she became suspicious, and flushed
like a school-girl.

"Boy," she began, "if you dare—"
"Hush, please !" he pleaded. "Do you want to
shame me before all these strangers? And spoil
my birthday? And prove that I have n't any
best girl ?"

The appeal was effective. The old woman
meekly submitted to the "try-on," and presently
he said to the clerk : "This one will do. Mrs.
Sager will take it with her and wear it home, as
the air is a bit chilly."

Before she could recover from
her dazed condition, they were
once more in the automobile and
speeding down the turnpike toward
the farm.

"Feel warm enough, Aunt 'Phro-
ney?" asked the boy, turning a
merry face toward her. Then he
saw that her eyes were full of tears.
She nestled closer to him and murmured
softly: "You know, boy, we — we never
had a chick or a child of our own !"

That evening father and son were
seated in the banker's library.

"I spent twenty dollars of my birthday money,
to-day," said the boy.

"Indeed. In what way?"

"Trying to make an old country woman happy."

"Really, my son?"

"Really, Father; and I think — I 'm quite sure
— that I succeeded."

And then he told him the whole story.

JUST BE GOOD

BY JAMES ROWE

If you need a lot of things
Such as dear old Santa brings—
Trumpets, bats, and things with springs-
Just be good.
He won't come within a mile
Of the boy who has no smile
And is grumbling all the while.—
Just be good.

If you need some whips or drums,
Or a top that "sleeps" and hums,
Every day, till Santa comes,
Just be good.

Santa never tries to see
Any bad boy's Christmas tree.
'I 've no use for him," says he.
Just be good.

He would never wish a boy
To be missing fun and joy
Just to get some little toy.

No. He 's fair.
Keep a manly, smiling chap
Underneath your little cap !
Then you need not care a rap.

He '11 be there!

^^<£.^!yaBilM£j'^mm~£*rnirt^mue

i ki\\]A^i

- '//

I 'VE SOMETHING FOR YOU!'

- . .

Vol. XL. — 15.

t>^;,*'?'

OUR CHRISTMAS
WHAT does Christmas mean to me?
Splendid, dazzling Christmas tree,
Stockings dangling in a row,
Stuffed by Santa, top to toe;
Heaps of gifts for Jack and me
And for all the family,
Dinner-table piled up high,
Christmas goose, and hot mince-pie!

Then, when dusk begins to fall,
That 's the bestest time of all:
Mother tells about the star
And the wise men from afar;
How the shepherds of the plain,
Wakened by the angel's strain,
Hurried through the night to greet
Just a sleepy baby sweet. &

,4;%

fe£*

OUR CHRISTMAS

115

mh*?*»**'

Though we know the story old,
Yet we love to hear it told.
And I shut my eyes ti^ht — so,
Till I see the star a^low;
Hold my breath, and, listening,
Hear the an^el chorus sins*,
And the mother, crooning deep
O'er the baby fast asleep.

While we sit so quiet there,
Daddy tiptoes from his chair,
Lifts the curtain, and we spy
One bright star shine in the sky,
Just as if it came to say,
"This is happy Christmas Day;
And to every ^irl and boy,
Love and peace and Christmas joy !"

Alice Lovett Carson.

IS.'"'1'""..,,.,,.

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

(A sequel to " The Lucky Si-rfience")

BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE

Chapter III

A MYSTERIOUS MAGUS

A week passed before Bart's plan for the trea-
sure hunt was matured, and in the meantime,
Brother John was detailed for special duty under
General Arnold in Philadelphia. And although
I was disappointed, because I had hoped he
would be home for good, it was a comfort to
know that he would be stationed so near to us
and in no danger. His own company, under Cap-
tain McLane, was with Washington, and had
John been there, I should have been constantly
anxious, for that troop was ever on the outlook
for danger, waiting not for it to come to them,
but rather going forth to find it with a right
good-will.

Brother John and I had long talks about Dene-
wood and how we were to manage ; for although
under ordinary circumstances there was more
than enough money, and John was a rich man,
owning many ships, trade was at a standstill, and
what hard money he could find was given to
Washington and the cause, which came before
all in his heart. So we were forced to plan and
contrive in many ways to feed the household and
the slaves on the place. While, of course, Mrs.
Mummer was first in these matters, certain re-
sponsibilities were given to me, and, in John's
absence, mine was the final word, though I took
no advantage of that, and looked to Mrs. Mum-
mer to guide me in all things.

Therefore I had, in a measure, lost sight of
Bart's treasure hunt, and one morning, when he
tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, " 'T is
to-night," I did not take his meaning.

"I 've arranged it all with old Schmuck, the
Magus," he added, and then I knew what he was
talking about.

"What did he say?" I asked eagerly.

"He was n't much for it at first," Bart replied;
"said he was engaged, but he soon came round.
All he wanted was a larger fee."

"You did n't tell him of the blazed tree?" I
questioned.

"Nay, not a word," Bart answered. "We leave
the house at eleven o'clock. That will give us
time to reach the creek before midnight, for I
will have the horses ready in the lane back of the
spring-house."

I thought a good deal of our adventure

throughout the rest of the day, and questioned
more than once whether it had been wise for me
to agree to Bart's schemes ; but I could not have
played the informer and gone to Brother John
with it, and I knew Bart well enough to be sure
he would go alone, as he said he might, unless
I accompanied him. In this way I salved my
conscience, and looked forward eagerly to the
quest.

Since the British had left Philadelphia and
we had no one quartered upon us, we had re-
arranged our sleeping quarters, and I was back
alone in my own chamber, while little Peg slept
in a small room beside mine. We had n't
breathed a word to her of our plans, and I was
somewhat worried for fear she would insist, as
she often did, on sharing my bed. But this night
she brought a kitten up with her from the
kitchen, and said naught of sleeping with me.

"Why have you brought the kitten?" I asked
her, as she prepared for bed.

"To w-w-watch the m-m-mouse's h-h-hole,"
she answered readily. "Mrs. M-M-Mummer says
't is good to begin training them y-y-young," she
went on gravely ; "and b-b-besides I g-grow tired
of d-d-doing all the w-w-work myself."

"Go to bed, goosie," I said; "some day you '11
really see a mouse in that hole of yours, and
you '11 be frightened out of your wits."

"Not if it 's a m-m-mouse with t-t-two legs,"
she laughed back at me, and a few minutes later
was in bed, and I had blown out the candle.

In my own room I saw to it that my prepara-
tions for the adventure were complete, and put
out riding-hat and boots, a cloak that came well
down below my knees, and, most important of all,
a pistol, which Bart had given me. Then I tied
up my hair in a queue and I was ready.

But when these arrangements were completed,
there was still a good two hours of waiting, and
I dared not lie down for fear of dropping off to
sleep and so missing my engagement. I had not
thought to bring a novel with me, so I had re-
course to my little book of Maxims, in which
had been set down all my doings and sayings
since I was a small maid of six years. This book
was one of my most cherished possessions, and a
close link between me and my old home in Eng-
land. The covers were of silk, embroidered by
dear old Granny herself, and many of the writ-
ings put down in it were in her neat hand.

116

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

117

As I turned the pages idly, I could n't help Dower-House together. 'T was not her fault
wondering how she liked living with her daugh- that we were forced to leave the only home we
ter, Madam Van der Heist, in Amsterdam, a had known, and seek shelter among strangers till
town which she despised. Poor old Granny ! I Horrie should come into his inheritance, upon
loved her truly, and wished she were in America the death of our cousin, Sir Horace Travers, of
with me, but she would have been quite as out Frobisham in Kent. 'T was not her fault that

Mr. Van der Heist, her
son-in-law, insisted that I
be sent to the Americas,
though it did seem as
though my fate was to be
a sad one. But, oh ! how
different it had turned out
from my expectations, and
how truly welcome Cousin
John had made me ! I had
indeed found my fortune
across great waters, as a
Gipsy woman had foretold
when I was but a babe, and
— and —

I came to my senses
with a guilty start, for I
had been napping, and,
jumping to my feet, turned
to the clock, fearing I had
missed my meeting with
Bart, at eleven ; but 't was
only ten.

I closed my book of
Maxims with a snap.
Clearly this thinking back
over the past was no good
way to keep awake. I must
find another means to prop
my eyes open.

I picked up a copy of
the Pennsylvania "Evening
Post" and glanced at the
news it contained.

A party of the American Light-
Horse pursued them very close
[which meant the British], and
took a great number of prisoners,
some of whom were refugees.
Soon after the evacuation, Hon-
orable Major-General Arnold
took possession of Philadelphia
with Colonel Jackson's Massa-
chusetts regiment.

A DARK, WEIRD FIGURE SILHOUETTED AGAINST THE SKY. (SEE PAGE 120.

of place with the "barbarians," as she styled
those who dwelt in the colonies, as in Amster-
dam.

But though Granny loved her dish of gossip as
well as another, she loved her orphaned grand-
children more, and my brothers, Hal and Horrie,
had shared with me all the luxuries her small
means could afford so long as we lived in the old

A few weeks before, that news had been most
exciting, because Brother John was with the
light-horse, but now it was stale, though I clipped
it out, and have kept it because it was about
John.

Then, for want of better employment, I started to
read the advertisements, in the hope of finding suffi-
cient entertainment to keep me from dozing again.

118

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

John Fisher, Brush-maker near the Gaol in Lancaster,
has powder, shot, and raisins for sale.

' 'T would be a heavy cake if he should mis-
take and sell shot for raisins," I said to myself,
smiling at such a funny combination of commodi-
ties. Then I read:

Francis Gurney and Company offer green and Bohea
tea, shalloons, lanthorn-horns, ruffled shirts, and best snuff
and tobacco in hogsheads.

Shalloons and ruffled shirts in hogsheads
seemed monstrous comical things, and I laughed
aloud, but 't was a sleepy laugh, and had I been
broader awake, I think I should not have been
so amused.

A little way down the page, I found another
advertisement that interested me, which read as
follows :

Ran away, on the night of August third last, from the
subscriber, living in Coombes's alley, a servant-lad named
Mark Powell, about fourteen years of age, of American
birth, who has between four and five years to serve. Had
on, when last seen, a whole suit of homespun, yarn
stockings, and heeled leathern shoes with large brass
buckles. He is marked by a great scar over his left eye,
is very active, can run almost as fast as a horse, and is a
good hand with narrow or broad ax, whipsavv, and most
carpenter tools. Whosoever takes him up and secures
him in the Philadelphia jail shall have TWO POUNDS
reward and reasonable charges. Jonathan Willis.

/fCSr3 His wrist is so large that he cannot be secured with
**^ common handcuffs.

I know not quite why it was so, but I felt a
great sympathy, not for Mr. Jonathan Willis,
who had lost a bond-servant, but for the run-
away boy, who was just about my age. Surely
his lot must have been a hard one for him to
have risked a public whipping at the Town Hall
if he was captured. While the British and Hes-
sians were about, many slaves and servants had
run away from fright, who were glad enough to
return to good homes when their fears were
allayed. But this boy evidently meant to stay
away, and I doubted not he had been badly
treated. Then, too, I was impressed by the item
about the unusual size of his wrists and his
fleetness — that he could run nearly as fast as a
horse seemed to me wonderful, if it were true.
Altogether I thought no little of this poor boy,
Mark Powell, and read the advertisement through
several times.

But by this time, the hands of the clock showed
that the moment for meeting Bart had arrived,
and all other thoughts flew out of my head as I
prepared to go down to him.

Now that the hour had come, I had misgivings,
but it was too late to back out. My fingers trem-
bled from excitement as I drew on my boots,
threw the long cape over my shoulder, and ad-

justed my hat. I took a last look at myself, and,
putting out the light, tiptoed to the door.

The house was still as I moved along the hall
toward the nursery, and in another moment, I
was groping in the fireplace for the entrance to
the secret passage that little Peg called the
"mouse's hole." I found it without trouble, for I
had been that way before, and breathed easier as
I took my first step down.

But it was exceeding dark, and I wished I had
had the forethought to fetch a lanthorn with me.
However, it was out of the question to go back,
and I groped my way as well as I could in the
blackness that was but ill-relieved by the faint,
gray light that showed through the pigskin cov-
ering the chinks in the masonry.

At the bottom, the passage turned toward the
spring-house, and I was startled by the sound of
splashing water. I halted, my heart doubling its
beat, but there was no further sound, and, think-
ing I had been mistaken, I went on, until, at
length, I was at the end of the passage beside
the spring-house door.

As I stepped out I met Bart.

"Is it you, Bee?" he asked in a whisper, which,
though low in tone, showed his excitement.

"Who else could it be?" I questioned back, with
a little shiver of nervousness.

"It could be no one else, I suppose," he an-
swered, "but I just . came up, and, before I
reached here, I fancied I saw something move
out of the house, and was afraid I 'd missed you.
Come along. Charley is with the horses, and we
must not delay, or we will be too late."

In the darkness we stumbled badly as we
picked our way toward the road.

"We '11 need a light, Bart," I said; "I should
have thought of it."

"Charley has one and a spade, too," he an-
swered. "You can trust me to be prepared, no
matter what may come," and, though I could n't
see him, I was sure he had thrown back his head
confidently, which was a trick he had acquired
since he had become a soldier.

He led me by a short cut through the orchard,
and so out into the road a few hundred yards
from the house ; and here we came upon the
horses.

"Hurry now !" said Bart, stepping up to set me
upon my beast, "we have n't any time to lose" ;
and he reached out his hand.

Then, to our surprise and consternation, a little
figure sidled up beside us.

"You may h-h-help me too, an it p-p-please
you," said Peggy, for it was she, looking, in the
darkness, with her peaked hood and brown cloak,
like a gnome sprung from the underworld.

120

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Dec,

For a moment neither Bart nor I could say a
word, so chagrined were we; but at last he found
his tongue.

"What 's the meaning of this?" he burst out
angrily; "you have no business here, and now
you 've spoiled it all !"

"How could you, Peggy !" I almost sobbed with
vexation. "You should n't have come."

"Nay," she answered, "I was in the s-s-secret
too, and I meant to c-c-come all the time, only I
did n't say so, knowing it might d-d-delay you."

"But how did you know we were going?" de-
manded Bart. "Did you tell her, Bee?"

"Not a word !" I answered. "I thought she
was sound asleep."

"I was n't," she chuckled. "But you w-were
once, 'c-c-cause I p-peeped in. You had y-y-your
eyes sh-sh-shut. I thought I sh-sh-should have
to w-w-wake you."

"What are we to do with her?" Bart asked
helplessly.

"T-t-to t-t-take me w-with you," said Peg.
" 'A w-w-wilful w-w-woman w-w-will have her
w-w-way,' as M-M-Mummer says."

"You can't ride bareback !" I snapped, a little
crossly, for there might be danger to be met, and
I liked not that Peggy should run risks.

"There '11 be a p-p-pillion on one of the s-s-sad-
dles," she answered calmly. "I told Ch-Ch-Char-
ley to p-p-put one on, and he s-s-said he would,
b-b-but he looked queer about it."

I was inclined to laugh, but Bart was angry
and perplexed, for we had scant time to argue
if we were to meet the Magus at the appointed
hour.

"You must go back at once!" he ordered; but
Peg shook her head with equal positiveness.

"Please, Peg," I began, but she cut me short.

' 'T is no use to s-s-say p-p-please, B-B-Bee,
so let 's be going or we shall be late."

It was plain that if we were to go at all, she
must make one of the party. Though I called
her a naughty child, and Bart threatened her
with all sorts of violence, she never budged, and
all the while the minutes were flying.

"Then I suppose you must go !" he flung out
at last. " 'A wilful woman must e'en have her
way,' so up with you ; but I like it not, and if
you come to harm, you have none to blame but
yourself."

A moment later we were off, Bart leading the
way with the lanthorn, little Peg mounted on the
pillion behind me, while Charley brought up the
rear with the spade. "We meet the Magus at
the Rittenhouse Mill Road," Bart said, still angry,
and for a while we rode on in silence, though the
impish little maid behind me chuckled slyly.

It was a black and cloudy night, for the moon
that we had counted on was overcast ; but when
our eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness,
we could see well enough, and the horses seemed
to have no difficulty in picking their way.

As we neared the Rittenhouse Mill Road, I, for
one, had a fast beating heart, for the real be-
ginning of our adventures was at hand.

We first saw the Magus atop the rise, a dark,
weird figure silhouetted against the sky, sitting
motionless upon a small mule which our horses
liked not at all to go in company with.

He was dressed entirely in a tight-fitting suit
of black satin, which served to enhance the thin-
ness of hirm and on his head he wore a wide,
flapping hat, also black, but relieved by one
blood-red plume, which, standing straight up,
seemed to add a foot to his already extravagant
height. He was indeed monstrous tall, though
no thicker than a sapling, and his legs hung down
on each side of his steed till I thought they must
touch the ground.

He greeted us civilly enough, but with many
long and uncouth words, and I was surprised
when he made it plain that he thought me a boy.
At first he did n't see Peggy, but when at last
he discovered her, he remarked that he had not
counted upon a female child being one of the
party, and he misdoubted how the spirits would
like it.

" 'T is not likely I will fright them," Peg an-
swered for herself, for she feared the Magus
no more than she feared anything else on earth ;
after which Schmuck said naught further on
that subject.

We turned our horses toward the Wissahickon
Creek, and it was evident from the very begin-
ning that old Schmuck was bent upon frighten-
ing us.

Such tales of ghosts and flibbertigibbets as he
related were enough to chill the blood, and one in
particular, of a spectral coach driven through the
streets of Philadelphia by a fiendish spirit, was
most uncanny. But whether he overdrew his
tales, or whether we were too well instructed to
be befooled, I know not; 't is certain that we
maids were not unduly terrified, though I was
soon to learn that one of our party had been
affected.

"Touching the driver of that ghostly coach,"
said Bart, coolly, "his beasts must have been
spirits too, seeing that he could guide them.
Faith, I knew not before that horses had souls.
But 't is not the ghosts I so much depend on as
good Hans Kalbfleisch," he added carelessly.

"Hans Kalbfleisch !" exclaimed the Magus, the
tone of his voice showing extreme astonishment.

1912.]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

121

At the same time, he spurred his beast so that it
jumped about the road, disturbing our calvacade
greatly. 'T was some time before we could bring
our horses down to order again, and then Bart
questioned the man pointedly.

"You repeated Hans Kalbfleisch as if the name
was not unfamiliar to you. Tell me, do you know
him?"

"I said the name !" retorted the Magus, and
his manner was almost rough. "Nay, you must
have misunderstood. I am but a poor horseman,
and the shying of my animal nigh unseated me."

"Yet I, too, heard you say the name," I put in.

"Then it must have been that I repeated it be-
cause it struck my ear with a certain quaintness,"
the Magus answered, "but come, we must hurry
on" ; and as an example to us, he spurred his little
donkey forward.

From the moment Bart unwittingly men-
tioned \he name of Hans Kalbfleisch, the manner
of the Magus underwent a complete change.
Heretofore he acted as one who played a role,
with his stories of ghosts and spirits intended to
fright the ignorant, intent only upon earning his
fees and maintaining his reputation as a wizard.
Now, however, he became eager and rather silent,
answering shortly what questions were put to
him. I noted that he muttered to himself, yet
seemed to be making an effort to control some
strong excitement he felt.

Thus, for a time, there was silence, until, a
half-mile farther on, we stopped and dismounted.
We took the horses along a narrow path to a
small clearing, where we tethered them, and were
about to proceed, when a queer, rattling noise
attracted my attention. I turned to see Charley
trembling beside me.

"Please, Miss Bee," he mumbled between his
chattering teeth, "you all don't want these here
horses stayin' alone in the dark like this, does
you ?"

It was plain that our black boy was in abject
fear and ready to run off at any moment, if we
insisted upon his accompanying us, so I called
to Bart, who was a little ahead with the Magus,
and he came back to where I stood.

I explained the situation, whereupon he scolded
Charley roundly in an undertone, for we had no
wish to inform the Magus that his stories had
been taken seriously by one of our party.

Bart pondered the matter for a moment.

"We '11 have to do our own digging, Bee," he
whispered, then, raising his voice, "Charley, you
stay here with the horses, but come at once when
I call. We '11 be within hail."

"Yes, sir," answered the boy, immensely re-
lieved, and we turned to rejoin the Magus.
Vol. XL. — i6.

I had felt a little uneasy at Schmuck's man-
ner, and as we came up with him, I was far from
reassured.

"Come ! lead on !" he ordered gruffly. "Think
you I can wait all night while you pick your way
so daintily ? Come on, come on !"

"Nay, there 's no hurry," I said. "Light the
lanthorn, Bart, and we '11 look to the priming of
our pistols."

I spoke in as deep a voice as I could muster,
but I was far from feeling courageous, nor was
I reassured when the light Bart kindled showed
me the face of the Magus, for he was an evil-
appearing man, and in that dim glow his eyes
glittered ominously and had a look of avarice, as
if something for which he had long sought was
about to come within his grasp.

He scowled at the sight of the pistols, but at
the same time, his manner changed again, and
he became once more the servile, cringing char-
latan we had first known.

"Which way, young master?" he asked, and his
tones were very humble.

"Lead on, Bart," I said. "I '11 follow
Schmuck" ; and I balanced the pistol in my hand
carelessly.

Chapter IV

I DIG FOR TREASURE

As we picked our way in single file through the
dark woods bordering the stream, the Magus
tried again to terrify us with tales of ghosts and
such-like supernatural creatures. How they im-
pressed Bart I could not tell, but I found myself
glancing about nervously, and beginning to be
afraid of— I knew not what.

On the road with a sturdy horse under me, this
talk of evil spirits scarce had any effect, but in
the damp forest with croaking frogs and the
plaintive call of a whippoorwill to accent the
silence, I confess I was ill at ease. Before me
the Magus strode along, the blood-red plume
touching the lower branches of the trees, a queer,
gaunt figure against the swaying light of the
lanthorn.

Little Peg was the least concerned of any of
us, I think. She was close beside me, and at
each stumble over root or stone, she would
chuckle or give vent to some stuttering utterance
that on another occasion would have made us all
laugh ; but I never felt less like laughing, and
wished with all my heart that we had never come
upon this quest, and, most of all, that Peg was
safe in bed. But such wishes were vain. I
picked my way behind old Schmuck, holding my
pistol in a trembling hand, and fearful lest I
might have to use it before the night was over.

122

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Dec,

Presently Bart turned sharply to the right, and
after a few paces stopped.

" 'T is here," he said, in an undertone, as we
all drew up beside him ; "take your wand, Magus,
and begin the search."

Schmuck drew forth a long, lithe wand which
seemed to wave of itself in the uncertain light
of the lanthorn. His excitement was apparent,
though he strove to appear indifferent, or, at
least, to preserve his character of seer or diviner.
But, although I was near beside myself with
anxiety and eagerness to have done with the
matter, I could not help seeing the intentness
with which the man peered about him in the
darkness, as if in search of something.

Evidently he found it not, for, after a moment,
he asked Bart to let him have the lanthorn.

"Nay, your wand needs no light nor your
spirits neither," answered Bart. "I '11 keep the
lanthorn."

"But where shall I begin?" whined the Magus,
taking on again his most humble mien. " 'T is
needful that I find a suitable place. You have n't
told me all you know, young master," he ended.

"If I knew the exact spot," answered Bart,
"there would be small use in taking a Magus at
some expense."

'T was plain that Schmuck was perplexed, for
he hesitated a moment, as if undecided how to
proceed.

"How near to the white stone is the place?"
he demanded, so suddenly that I was taken by
surprise.

"The white stone !" cried Bart, suspiciously.
"What know you of a white stone?"

"Naught, naught," answered the Magus, eva-
sively ; "I saw such in a vision, perhaps."

"Humph ! more dreams !" muttered Bart to
himself; and I was sure that he realized, as I
did, that old Schmuck knew more of the matter
than he was willing to divulge. To me, indeed,
it seemed that each had some special knowledge
that he neither dared nor cared to trust to the
other, so that there was like to be a deadlock.

'T was now Bart's turn to hesitate, but, after
a moment, he evidently reached a decision.

"Come on," he ordered, and led us to a spot a
few paces nearer the creek, where he took his
stand with his back against a big tree.

" 'T is here or hereabouts. Now let us see what
good your magic is."

With a curious, sidelong glance at us, the
Magus took his peeled wand and set it between
the palms of his hands. The clouds had parted
a little, and a pale light seemed to come from
both the water and the sky, so that the diviner
in his black suit was plainly visible.

Slowly he began to move across the open
space, then back and forth in circles, seemingly
led by the rod he carried extended in front of
him, so slight and willowy was his form. At
length he stopped.

"There is naught here," he said despondently;
but, even as he spoke, the clouds parted still
further, and a pale trickle of light spilled upon
a great white stone that had previously been
shadowed.

"The white stone !" we all gasped together,
and for a full minute, we stood staring at it in
silence.

Bart was the first to recover himself.

"Try over this way !" he cried, leaping away
from the tree against which he had been stand-
ing, and running toward the stone. But, for an
instant, a flash from the lanthorn had lighted up
the trunk of the tree, and there, rudely carved
in the bark, I caught a glimpse of a skull and
cross-bones. 'T was the blazed tree of which
Hans Kalbfleisch had spoken, and I knew we
must be near the pirates' hoard !

I followed Bart, and so did the Magus, and, as
he ran, I saw the wand in his hand drawn down-
ward to the earth till it bent like a fishing-rod
when one has hooked too heavy a fish.

' 'T is here !" he gasped, like one in heavy pain.
" 'T is here. I feel it !"

"Then let 's begin to dig," said Bart, quite
valiantly, I thought, for his voice sounded indif-
ferent enough, and he made a movement toward
the spade.

"Not yet," cried the Magus, with a gesture of
horror. "Wouldst have the spirits that guard the
spot destroy us?"

"Nay," answered Bart, a little anxiously, " 't is
to guard against those gentry I brought you
along."

"Then come nigh while I draw the magic
circle," the Magus commanded.

For a moment, Bart hesitated, then stepped
toward him.

"Come," he said to me, "we '11 get out of reach
of the spirits," and he tried to laugh as if he
cared not, but made a failure of his attempt.

"I '11 s-s-stay h-h-here," said little Peg, seating
herself on a boulder; "I think it 's s-s-s-safer."

I confess I would like to have remained with
Peggy, but that would be to desert Bart, so I
went forward with him.

When we had taken our places, Schmuck leaned
down as if he meant to draw the magic circle of
which he had spoken, but, ere he began, he
straightened up again.

"Lay aside all cold metal, for if you have aught
of that upon your persons, we are lost," he said.

IQI2.]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

123

"I have naught but a lucky sixpence about my
throat," I hastened to tell him, for his tone was
most ominous.

"Nay, good silver will not matter. 'T is cold
iron that is fatal," he answered in a hard voice.
And then I saw that he meant our pistols, and I
became doubly suspicious.

"Come," I said to Bart, and he walked with me
to where little Peg was seated.

" 'T is the pistols," I murmured, so that none
save he could hear me.

"Aye, I guessed that," he returned; "but I
mean we shall keep them all the same."

"How will you manage it?" I asked.

"Do as I do," he whispered, "but first hide the
pistol under your cape."

When we reached Peg, Bart stooped as if to
lay his pistol down.

"We '11 put them here on the ground," he said
aloud, so that the Magus could n't fail to hear
him, and then, as I bent to do the same, he whis-
pered in my ear, "Find a billet of wood about the
size of a pistol, if you can."

I searched the ground with my hand, and found
a dead branch of about the right length.

"I have it," I answered.

"Good," muttered Bart, under his breath.
Then aloud he went on : "No, we had better lay
them on the rock ; the grass is damp" ; and with
that we rose, and Bart placed a piece of wood
beside Peg. I did the same with my stick, and,
at a little distance, in that dim light, they looked
enough like pistols, and I thought Bart's trick
was rather clever.

Back we walked to the Magus, who began again
to make his circle.

He chanted some strange words, and we
watched him slowly move his wand in a wide
ring about us. As he neared the end, he stopped
his chant and spoke again to us.

"Spirits dire and dread are all around. We
stand above a pirate treasure. The treasure is
here," the Magus went on, "but the evil spirit
that watches over it is strong. Utter no word
nor step without the magic circle, or all is lost.
It boots not what you hear or see, utter no
sound. Dost understand?"

"Aye," answered Bart.

With that the man, chanting as before, drew
the last line, and the circle was complete. Then
he raised himself up and, holding aloft his hands,
stood for a while as if offering a silent invoca-
tion. He made a weird and curious figure
stretched to his full height, his long, bony arms
seeming to tower above his head, and between
them the waving plume. I shuddered a little,

wishing with all my heart that the matter was
finished, but I caught a half-smile on Bart's face
which showed me that he, at least, still had his
wits about him.

I had supposed that the end of the ceremony
had come, when the Magus dropped his long
arms, but in this I was mistaken. First he bowed
three times to the north, to the east, to the south,
and to the west. Then, again taking the wand,
he held it out before him, and the stick seemed
like a thing alive. Lithe and agile as the man
was, the writhing thing in his hands was quicker,
for suddenly it leaped from between his palms
and stood bolt upright, as if rooted in the ground.
Of all that happened that night, this was to me
the strangest, for in truth the rod seemed a
quickened thing, shaking and shivering at our feet.

The Magus, with a nod to Bart, pointed to the
spade. Without a word he took it up, and in a
moment was hard at work.

He had made a fair-sized hole before he tired
of his task, but found nothing; and, at length,
stepping out of the space he had digged, he
handed the spade to the Magus.

That individual took it and went to work for
ten minutes or so without result, though we
looked eagerly into the rapidly widening hole.
At length he passed the spade to me, and, seeing
that Bart was about to interpose, I forestalled
him, sticking my pistol into my belt so that I
might have both hands free, and took up the task,
meaning to do as much as, or more than, any boy.

I was surprised to find how light the soil was,
and, proud of the ease with which I increased
the depth of the excavation, labored with a right
good-will.

Suddenly the spade ceased to cut through the
sand, and, thinking I had struck a root, I pressed
with all my force. But though the object yielded
somewhat, I could not dig it up, and when I
attempted to withdraw the spade, it seemed as if
something grasped and held it. For a moment,
I knew not what to think, and then, with a lively
shriek, I was out of the hole.

"Bart ! Bart !" I screamed.

"Run ! Run !" shouted the Magus, as he jumped
toward the spot where he supposed our pistols
to be lying. " 'T is the pirate's ghost. Naught
can save you now. The spell is broken !"

The terror the Magus managed to put into his
tones was very infectious, and I seized Bart by
the wrist, intent upon dragging him away.

"Come, Bart !" I cried in desperation ; but he
would not move.

"Nonsense !" he exclaimed, "I don't see any
ghost, and I won't run until I do."

{To be continued.)

"Whoever hath heard of so strange a thing !"
Quoth the mystified monarch of Chingoling.

"She hath silver, and gold, and jewels rare;
More gowns than ever a queen could wear,
With furbelows, feathers, and frills to spare ;
And now, instead of some fine new frock,
She insists on this tinkety Jimblejock!
Pray what in the world is a Jimblejock?
And how can I find it by seven o'clock !

"Is it little or big? is it wood, or glass,

Cotton, or silk, or gold, or brass?

Something to eat, or something to wear —

I only know it is painfully rare !

I have n't the least idea," quoth he,
"Whatever a Jimblejock may be!"

THE QUEST OF THE JIMJBLEJOCK

125

Now, Christmas eve, as we know too well,
Is never the easiest time to shop;
And His Worthy Majesty, sad to tell,
Was soon so tired, he was like to drop.
But when came seven, then eight o'clock,
He 'd found no trace of the Jimblejock !

'HE HURRIED IN VAIN FROM PLACE TO PLACE
AS HE SEARCHED THE TOWN IN A FRUITLESS CHASE.'

126

THE QUEST OF THE JIMBLEJOCK

[Dec.

s^r.

'Pray what may it be?" they each inquired;
'Did we know the article so desired
To please Your Grace, you may well depend,
We would search our shelves from end to end.
But we doubt if we ever have had in stock
Any such thing as a Jimblejock;
And, should we find it, it might not be
The tinkety one you wish to see !"

Then the King was ready to tear his hair,
(Had he just a bit on his head to spare,)
For the hours flew by at a shocking rate,
And he knew full well it was growing late.

'T was nine, then ten, then eleven o'clock,
And he had n't discovered the Jimblejock!

AND, SHOULD WE FIND IT, IT MIGHT NOT BE
THE TINKETY ONE YOU WISH TO SEE!'"

igi2.]

THE QUEST OF THE JIMBLEJOCK

Is;

127

So the Queen she waited, much at a loss,
Till at length to the palace, tired and cross,
His Majesty came, at twelve o'clock,
With never a sign of a Jimblejock !

128

THE QUEST OF THE JIMBLE JOCK

But merrily still the bells they rang,

Till at length, from his throne the monarch

sprang,
And cried to the weeping Queen: "My dear,
I forbid your shedding another tear !
I beg you, Madam, my wish attend,
For 't is time this state of affairs should end,
And after this, you may well believe,
I shop no more on a Christmas eve !
It suits me ill that you frown and pout —
Content yourself, if you please, without
This singular gift you have asked of me,
And take your part in the festal glee.
I have come to the end of my patience, quite,
And a stern decree goes forth, to-night,
That nobody dare, whoever he be,
To mention a Jimblejock to me !"

Then the Queen took note of the kingly frown,
And the fact that the royal foot was down;
And she dried her tears, as a queen should do,
On her best lace handkerchief, fine and new,
And, hand in hand, round the Christmas tree,
They danced with the court in greatest glee.
And never since then has ever a word
Of the tinkety Jimblejock been heard;
And anything Santa Claus cares to bring,
Gives joy to the Queen of Chingoling!

^Jfee birds that p z\£za& ,saj>s/\rdiibalcl wig,
v\re the peskiest critters to ba£ ;

^or just v\)hen I'm takin a^ood aim atzv<3
*TIiey are sure to be oVer at e %*

C.8UTUCR--

A SMALL ORDER

This is all that I expect

Santa Claus to bring to me :
One large boat — my old one 's wrecked ;

One large, lovely Christmas tree ;
Then I need a larger drum,
That says "boom" instead of "turn" ;
And I want a nice long whip
That will make our tom-cat skip ;
Then I hope to get a ball
That will dent the hardest wall,
And a bat that will not split
Ev'ry time that it is hit ;
Next I 'd choose a pair of skates
Just as nice as Sister Kate's,
And a bright large monoplane
That will carry rag-doll Jane ;
Then I 'd like a lot of things
That are run by hidden springs —
Rats and spiders, and the like ;
And I need a brand-new "bike"
With a coaster-brake that will
Make work easy down a hill.

There ! that 's all I asked him for.

Still, I 'm hoping (since he 's Dutch)
That he '11 bring a few things more, —

As I have not asked for much!

Vol. XL. -i 7.

kCONQVERORS

Two compositions lay on the dark-haired boy's
desk. They were his last and hardest school
efforts ; they had both been written for prizes ;
and they had both failed. One was on "Mathe-
matical Pursuits," — a prose composition of 5000
words ; the other was a poem on "The Ship-
wreck." On the back of the long envelop the
boy had written in his half-formed handwriting,
"Given in for prize at the Public Latin School.
Both unfortunately failed. Ah me miser um I"

He was only fifteen, this boy, and yet his
school-days were behind him and he was a Har-
vard freshman. Though so young, he was already
six feet three inches tall. Perhaps his rapid
growth had robbed him of his strength for a time,
for he did not care for athletics or even long
walks ; and though he entered naturally into all
the college interests, this sudden manhood made
him feel awkward and shy.

Longfellow was teaching modern languages at
Harvard; Louis Agassiz, biology; Asa Gray, bot-
any; Professor Child, Early English; and many
other great teachers and great men stood ready
to pour their glad wisdom into every open mind.
And the dark-haired fellow, Phillips Brooks,
knew there was a wealth better than gold in these
men's brains, and he did not scorn it. Poetry he
read for mere pleasure, wandering, as in all his
reading, with no guide but his fancy. He loved
literature and the languages ; he loved history for
the sake of the men who made it. But he hated
mathematics because he could not work the prob-
lems; and he hated elocution because it seemed a
sham. Long years after, however, his training in
elocution proved very useful, though it never
made him conquer his rapid speech.

More than any lessons, however, Brooks loved
the college life. Jolly, cordial, true, he won his

place naturally in all hearts. During his four
years, he was made a member of six different
societies, and he was one of the commencement

'THEY HAD BOTH FAILED.

speakers. Without knowing why, some of his
friends almost worshiped him. There was an in-

THROUGH FAILURE TO SUCCESS

131

tangible charm about him, — a winning playful-
ness,—that made them want him with them; and
yet a reserve that kept them from drawing him
out. In college, by gaining prizes for English
essays, he half canceled the memory of the Latin
School disappointment. No success or popularity
could spoil him, though, for he was too uncon-
scious of self to know that he was either brilliant
or lovable. When he was a senior, he had a way
of encouraging timid freshmen, who might even
have gone hungry through shyness. Looking at
them with his great, kind eyes, he would push

each founded a Phillips Academy, one at An-
dover, the other at Exeter. Ever since he was
a child, he had heard of these great schools. And
during his college life, the idea had dimly grown
that he, too, might be a teacher. For the sake of
experience, he thought, he might take almost any
position, later study abroad, and, finally, be a
professor. Accordingly, when the chance came
to teach in the Boston Latin School, he seized it
eagerly.

No chapter in Phillips Brooks's life.is so sad as
this teacher chapter. None is so hopeless. And

O /-" Uhmatr-

PHILLIPS BROOKS WRITING A HOME LETTER FOR A WOUNDED SOLDIER. (SEE PAGE 134.)

things their way at the table. Sometimes, when
he met them alone, he would say, "The college is
more for freshmen like you than seniors like me."
When Phillips Brooks graduated, he was only
nineteen, and, like many other young fellows, he
had not decided on a profession. Alive in him,
however, was the strong desire of most graduates
— to do something at once ; and this desire was
strengthened by the fact that he was one of six
boys, four of whom, younger than himself, were
still to be educated. From his mother's side of
the family Phillips inherited a love of teaching,
—his grandfather and his great-uncle having

yet lie began his work with hearty enthusiasm,
and the first few months were happy ones. He
had "splendid little boys," as he said, and he
worked with interest. Late in the fall, however,
he was given an older class, fellows only three or
four years younger than himself. In letters to
his friend "Top Sawyer" he wrote : "They are the
most disagreeable set of creatures, without ex-
ception, that I ever met with." . . . "I am teach-
ing them French which they don't, Greek which
they won't, and Vergil which they can't, under-
stand or appreciate." In his own belief, he was
not only unpopular at school, but was even hated,

132

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[Dec.

and he said that if he met any one of his pupils
socially, he would need a suit of chain armor
for protection. "I feel a little blue to-night, . . .
and I come now to you and wish you with all my
heart a very Happy New Year."

The truth is, his discipline was weak. Loving
the subjects he taught, he
took it for granted that his
pupils loved them. These
boys were mischievous and
rowdyish. They had already
vanquished three teachers,
and, like Indians, were eager
for another scalp. Besides,
their boyish teacher wore
glasses, — much less common
then than now, — and they
were not at all sure how
much he could see. After
plugging the thermometer
with snow, they shivered and
chattered, and then built an
"insufferable fire." One boy
threw a handful of shot in
Brooks's face, and then, when
the teacher looked, was sit-
ting most innocently, per-
fectly still, his hand meekly
raised to ask a question. An-
other scattered the heads of
snapping matches all over
the room, and there was no
way to trace the explosions.
Brooks could not manage the
boys himself, and he had no
help from Principal Gardner,
a fine athlete, who ruled by
his strong right arm. Ac-
cording to Gardner, discipline
was the first mark of a good
teacher, and any one who
failed in that was hopeless.

When at last, weak in
heart and worn in courage, the boy-teacher re-
signed, the unseeing principal met his resignation
with, "The man who fails at teaching will fail at
everything." It was a sharp and cruel shot.
Brooks long remembered those words. It is beau-
tiful to know, however, that the boy never har-
bored a grudge against the man who hurt him
most, and, years later, he even praised him in a
public speech. It is still more beautiful to re-
member that this very defeat was the highroad to
victory. Principal Gardner lived long enough to
find his own quick judgment false and the boy-
failure a mighty success.

And yet, from the day of his resignation, there

were hours, days, and months that spelled utter
failure to Phillips Brooks. Inactive, empty-
handed, the poor fellow went back home,— the
only one in his big family with nothing to do.
Though he secured a little private teaching to fill
a few hours, the rest of the time he had to think,

WHEN THE
OF

HAND OF PHILLIPS BROOKS GRASPED THE HAND
ABRAHAM LINCOLN." (SEE PAGE I34.)

to know he was a disappointment to his parents,
to his five brothers, to every one who loved him
best. Bitterest of all, he was a cruel disappoint-
ment to himself. Could it be that the life which
lay before him, full of ambition, and once full of
hope, was to be a failure ? On his long walks he
met different classmates ; but they all seemed to
be doing something, and knew what they meant
to do. When the summer came, bringing vaca-
tion, their holidays were earned ; his were the
continued indolence of an idle man.

And yet, through all this despondency, some-
thing told Phillips Brooks to hope. He seemed
to realize that no one really knew him, that he

1912.]

THROUGH FAILURE TO SUCCESS

133

even did not know himself, — boyish and common-
place conclusions enough, but alive with a sense
of discovery. Loving biography as he did, every
"life" he read brought him to the same conclu-
sion: millions of hearts were lonely; millions of
others would love to sympathize ; but it seemed
impossible. Then from the young man's soul
went up a kind of prayer that he might "know the
strange language in which his neighbors' lives
were written"; and, finally, with this self-forget-
fulness, there was given, slowly, strangely, a won-
derful gift — the conviction that God could under-
stand him fully, and that God knew he need not
be a failure.

Up to this time, Phillips Brooks had shown no
interest in religion. Sunday after Sunday, he
had sat, half-bowed, at the end of the family
pew, but neither preacher nor parents nor his
best friends knew anything of his inmost thoughts.
They were closed to all the world. But we know
that he passed through a troubled time of doubt.

Dr. Walker, the president of Harvard, must
have had some influence over him. Phillips had
heard him preach in Chapel Sunday evenings,
and, like other college boys, had been won by his
character and power. He was a man in whom it
was easy to confide, and to whom many students
had bared their souls. And now one day, late in
the summer, Phillips Brooks entered his study for
advice. What was said behind that closed door
no one knows ; but the young man who came
away was white and trembling— Dr. Walker had
advised him to preach.

We can no more guess the throbbings in a soul
with this solemn thought of life before it than we
can guess the mysteries of the ocean. Let these
things be as they are made — deep, silent, and hid-
den. After much thinking, Phillips Brooks went
to his rector, Dr. Vinton, to ask what steps he
should take to enter the ministry.

Phillips Brooks did not veil from Dr. Vinton,
or his family, or himself that it was only a trial.
The dismalness of failure had cut itself so deep
into the young man's heart that he took up the
new work at the Theological Seminary in Alex-
andria, Virginia, with a very wavering confi-
dence. Because he entered a little late, he had
to choose his room from the left-overs. It was
a cold, dark, cheerless place in the attic, with a
ceiling too low for him to stand straight, and a
bed too short for him to stretch out. The stu-
dents dined in a large, low room, down cellar, on
such things as tomato-pies and boiled rice. When
"potatoes were limited," Hebrew and moral phi-
losophy were supposed to satisfy hunger. Popu-
lar as Brooks had been at Harvard, here he made
few friends, — only two in the first year; and, of

all the professors, Dr. Sparrow was his only
inspiration. Many nights the young man would
lie awake, doubled up in his short bed, knowing

"US

F. Seh

"'WELL, IS IT WORTH IT?'" (SEE PAGE I37.)

well that if he were not "twenty-one, he should
call himself homesick."

And yet those years in Alexandria proved one
thing : that handicaps are benefits. In spite of
bleak surroundings, friendlessness, and starva-
tion-instruction, the Phillips Brooks who had
wrung from his failure at teaching a new im-
petus for life, now wrung from his very leisure
a new power for work. No inadequate teaching
could shut from him the world of books, or the
world of nature, or the world of men. His open
mind could feed itself. He plunged into what-
ever tempted him : Greek and Latin classics,
biography, history, poetry, theology, the vast

134

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[Dec,

beauty of the outdoor world, if only caught from
a car window, and always the exhaustless wonder
of the human heart. Though he was sometimes
impatient with the seminary and with what it
did not give, he wrote in his note-book and in his
soul, "We must despair of growing great unless
we can feel that we are given to the cause to
work for it, and not it to work for us"; and, "It
must be, not what the world can do for me, but
what I can do for the world." Self-forgetfulness
had saved him in the Latin School failure, and it
saved him now in the Virginia desert. By earnest
searching, he found an oasis of blessing in a
strong and joyous belief— the "new-found confi-
dence of Christian faith."

There is nothing sweeter in a strong man than
uncloaked boyishness, and this was eternal in
Phillips Brooks. Home was a temple in his heart.
Never in his long life did he resent the close
guard of his mother nor the frank advice of his
father. In his turn, he helped his younger broth-
ers, but with no sense of aloofness, and no desire
to pry into their souls. When he came home for
vacations, he loved to go to the menagerie with
"the boys," and begged to be excused from
preaching and to sit "alongside of Mother" in the
pew. From now on, the years had three burning
interests for Phillips Brooks: his work, his home,
and the war.

Like the others at the seminary, as part of the
prescribed work, he practised preaching in the
small pulpit at Sharon Mission, and was nick-
named "practiser" or "parsonet." At first, he did
not succeed particularly well. During his senior
year, however, he had the chance to teach in the
Preparatory Department at a salary of $300 and
board, and, by this means, he gained money and
training, while completing his studies. Then he
went on a three-months' trial to the Church of
the Advent in Philadelphia; but he fell so far
short of his own aims that, before the term was
ended, he suggested to one of the vestrymen that
perhaps he had better leave at once. His parish-
ioners, however, were more than satisfied.
Though their young preacher was reserved with
individuals, he offered his whole self to his con-
gregation. His words were alive. As his fame
spread, calls to other and larger churches poured
in. "Don't let it make you proud, Philly," came
from the watchful mother. Proud? He did not
know what that meant. Gravely he answered the
invitations, — happy to be wanted; happy to be
used. But he thought too much of others to have
room for himself, and just now he was stirred to
the depths over the slavery problem.

In 1862, he moved to Holy Trinity Church, in
Philadelphia, where his influence would bo

greater, but where, as before, his position as
rector still hindered him from speaking his whole
heart on what he felt to be the sin of slavery.
When news came that his younger brother
George, his particular chum, had enlisted as a
soldier, and his Aunt Susan had volunteered as a
nurse, the young minister yearned for the good-
bys and the drum-beat. Still he kept his post,
hard as it was to "buckle down" to preaching in
war time. Before long, however, when Lee
threatened Philadelphia, Phillips Brooks and
other clergymen bought spades and marched out
to dig trenches. Then came the news of Gettys-
burg—one quarter of the army slain, wounded,
or taken prisoners. At that, the great man was
off to the hospital, distributing clothing, writing
letters, and sleeping in a tar shop when he could
find no better place. Now his heart had its double
sorrow, for, just before the great battle, his
brave young brother George had died in camp of
typhoid pneumonia.

But, somehow, Phillips gave him up, locked
away the brother-love as a sacred, lasting thing,
and turned to the great, needy world. There
was a day when the hand of Phillips Brooks
grasped the hand of Abraham Lincoln, and it
was a day for each to remember. Long before,
these great men had joined hands in purpose.
When, at last, the slaves were free, Phillips
Brooks pleaded for the colored man. He felt
the slave's weight of ignorance and our responsi-
bility for his education. His speech on the life
and death of Lincoln, and his prayer at the Har-
vard Commemoration for the soldiers, were two
of the greatest utterances of his soul. Of the
first we have a few beautiful fragments; but of
the second we have only the memory of those
who heard it.

Like all other great lives, his was so full that
it cannot be told in a few pages; it can only be
suggested. He was continually sought by differ-
ent churches as their rector, and by colleges and
divinity schools as president or professor. Of
all the calls that he resisted, the chance to be
head of the Cambridge Theological Seminary
was the strongest temptation. Something tugged
at his heart, — the old longing for that intimate
association that is given to teachers; and, like
Emerson, he had to go alone among the hills for
his decision, for he never made a great decision
lightly. Of the thronging calls to churches, he
accepted only three ; two in succession in Phila-
delphia and one in Boston. And the changes that
he made were never made for money.

In Trinity Church, Boston, he preached for
twenty-two years, until he was made Bishop of
Massachusetts. This gave him a chance, by tak-

1912.]

THROUGH FAILURE TO SUCCESS

135

ing the service at Appleton Chapel, to keep up
the dear associations with Harvard College. No
words can tell his power — his influence was far too
sacred to be called "popularity." Yet, excusing
that shallow word, he was so "popular" that his
own father was afraid the congregation would
applaud him, — a thing that Brooks could not
have borne.

While he was happy to be loved, he hated lion-
izing and had no patience with conventional flat-
tery. He laughed at the handkerchiefs of his
first Christmas as a pastor, "enough to last a life-
time" ; the slippers, accumulating till they filled
barrels, and were shipped by him to the mission-
aries; and the daily flowers, which he re-sent to
hospitals. Too simple and too unconscious to be
vain, he never seemed to know why people loved
him or to dream that he was great. Crowded as
his own church was. he exclaimed to a friend,
"Grey, what a splendid congregation you have !"
On one of his ocean trips he wrote : "The only
celebrity on board was Mr. Froude" ; and from
England, "To-morrow I go to Oxford, where I
spend three days . . . looking at all the great
men." (The mirror could have shown him one.)
Meeting Huxley and Tennyson, being entertained
by Browning and Gladstone, or preaching before
the Queen— none of these things could spoil him.
When he was asked to furnish facts for his col-
lege class-record, he wrote: "I have had no wife,
no children, no particular honors, no serious mis-
fortune, and no adventures worth speaking of.
It is shameful at such times as these not to have
a history, but I have not got one, and must come
without." And when his photograph was sent
home, he wrote :

And is this, then, the way lie looks —

This tiresome creature, Phillips Brooks?

No wonder, if 't is thus he looks,

The church has doubts of Phillips Brooks.

Well, if he knows himself, he '11 try

To give these doubtful looks the lie.

He dares not promise, but will seek

E'en as a bishop to be meek ;

To walk the way he shall be shown,

To trust a strength that 's not his own,

To fill the years with honest work,

To serve his day and not to shirk,

To quite forget what folks have said,

To keep his heart and keep his head,

Until men, laying him to rest

Shall say, " At least he did his best."

What gave Brooks his great power? "Love of
truth and his love of souls" — his humbleness
made all men his equals, and his tolerance drew
them to his heart. People remember him leaving
an ocean steamer, and, as he stepped aboard the
tug for the cabin passengers, lifting his hat to

the steerage in good-by. And they remember
that he sturdily voted against compulsory prayers
at Harvard because, to him, no prayer could be
compelled.

To doubters and believers, alike, he seems to
say, "I know just how you feel" ; and to the dis-
couraged his tested hardihood still shouts, "There
is no man here who has not failed; but is there
any man here in all this multitude who has given
up?"

His influence gripped men of all creeds. When
people were in trouble, he had a way of going
to sit with them and letting them talk, sometimes
hardly speaking at all himself. "Men like to be
talked to better than to be preached at," he said.
"They prefer the easy-chair to the pulpit." Thus
he stood : never on a height, but shoulder to shoul-
der on a common ground. Except for church, he
wore the dress of a simple citizen. Instead of
driving, he took a car. "On long canoe journeys,
the guides were three weeks before they found
out that he was a clergyman. On walking trips
abroad, he looked a little like a gamekeeper."

Forms, titles, and robings sank into insignifi-
cance beside the high calling of truth. "I won't
be called Dr. Brooks," he wrote to a friend, "and
you may stop that for me when and where you
can." Just before he was made bishop, he went
to New York, and ordered "a set of the prepos-
terous garments that bishops wear."

First a man and then a clergyman, that is
what he was, though he loved his life as a
preacher with a deep, abiding love. "I would n't
be anything but a parson for the world !" he ex-
claimed; and "The pulpit of Trinity is the dearest
spot of earth to me,— in other words, is home."

To know this great man more perfectly, we
should see him with children, go with him on his
travels, read his open letters, hear him in the
pulpit, and talk with him alone. Even then we
can hardly catch the spirit of fun that danced
over the surface of his seriousness, as phosphorus
sparkles in the sea.

Children were Phillips Brooks's special delight.
Welcome as he was in hundreds of homes, the
grown folks took back places when the children
were around. He sometimes told the little ones
who seemed shy, that it was "great fun to be a
minister." Once he played Goliath so that a tiny
boy might "shoot him with a sling." When, at
the death of his parents, the old North Andover
home became his, he made it a rallying-place for
other people's children. A stove was put up in the
old corn barn so that his nieces, Agnes, Gertie,
and "little Tood," could play at cooking, and he
used to take tea with them there— big, jolly, and
at home. For the little children he kept always

136

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[Dec,

a big doll, and there were older sports for the
others. "I never see a lot of boys," he said,
"without wanting to be among them, and wishing
they would let me into their company. I hate
to think that boys of sixteen think of me as I
used to think of men of thirty-seven when I was
their age ! Most of the wisdom of old age is
humbug."

It always seems as if he should have had a wife

PHILLIPS BROOKS IN THE PULPIT. (SEE PAGE I38.)

and children of his own instead of that house of
empty rooms, kept for him by his faithful ser-
vant Katie ; and, though the great preacher
sought companionship in books, he was too warm
and vital to be satisfied by print. '"I cannot beg,
borrow, or steal a wife and children," he said,
"so this poor working-man's heart will never leap
with joy, or at least only half-way." Yet, like
the Great Master, his tender arms cradled the
babies, and all the children circled round his
knees. The deaf, dumb, and blind child, Helen

Keller, to whom his loving touch was most fa-
miliar, gives her glad witness with the rest.

It is a great task for any one to be, at once,
a fine preacher and a faithful visiting pastor.
Phillips Brooks was both. Sometimes, for five
months together, he would not have an evening
free. While he was giving playtime to children
and work-time to their parents, he was using up
his own vitality, so that rest became indispensable.
As we all know, change is the
happiest rest. His journeys
included the West in our
own country and eleven trips
abroad. He saw the palms
and bamboos and bungalows
of India, and the "second
highest mountain in the
world, blazing with snow in
the sunshine" ; the Swiss val-
leys "overrunning with wa-
ter" ; the "sweet green hills"
on the other side of Como,
"sound asleep in the sunlight
which they like" ; "the world
of vines and oranges" near
Los Angeles; the -Yosemite
Valley, "ringing with cata-
racts" ; Italy, the Holy Land,
and merry Japan,— besides
many other places common
to the tourist. The little peo-
ple of Japan thought he was
a strange kind of giant, and
wanted to measure his hands
and feet. They did not
"quarrel with his bulk," how-
ever, but dragged him around
in their jinrikishas as if he
were a "jolly joke." Never-
theless, Phillips Brooks in-
sisted that the coolie who
carried him across a torrent
on his back would "never
forget it any more than I
shall !"

In the Holy Land, with
deepest reverence he walked on the hills of Pal-
estine and all the sacred places where Jesus must
have been. It was on the Christmas spent in
Christ's birthplace that his beautiful carol, "Oh
little town of Bethlehem !" began to sing itself
into his soul. Yet the man was so closely
wrapped in the minister, that even from Beth-
lehem he ended a letter with, "I wish I were
going to bed in that back room at home."

His letters, better than anything else, give his
boyish, homesick, playful, human side. Let us

I9I2-]

THROUGH FAILURE TO SUCCESS

137

look into some of them just as they come to our
hands. For one thing, the great man with the
boy heart never lost his school-boy homesickness.
He was homesick for "Trip's bark," and
"Bridget's flapjacks," and even for his "mother's
stocking-bag." On Christmas in the Holy Land,
he was homesick for men nailing up spruce
boughs and men "carrying home turkeys by the
legs." "Who beats now on the base-ball ground?"
he writes from Athens to his brother Arthur ; and
another time sends the combined news from
America to Europe : "They have chosen Bishop
Talbot to be Bishop of Georgia. Harvard beat
Yale in the boat-race." His letters are full of
"God bless you alls" and "Lots of love to all,"
and of the superlatives of a beauty-loving nature.

More than one place he called "the most beau-
tiful in the world," and he "enjoyed everything
hugely." No boy could have been more rollick-
ing with fun or have panted more eagerly for the
holidays, when he was to swim and paddle, tramp
and ride horseback. "Glory, glory, gloriation !
ten more weeks before vacation !" is one of his
jovial cries.

The nieces, who had their full share of his
letters, must have been used to his jokes. From
India he wrote, "I think I met Isaac and Jacob
on two skinny camels, just outside the gates of
Aden. I asked them how Esau was, but Jacob
looked mad, and would n't answer— but I feel
quite sure it was they, for they looked just like
the pictures in the Bible." And to Gertie from
Jeypore : "All the little girls, when they get to
be about your age, hang jewels in their noses.
I have got a nose jewel for you, which I shall
put in when I get home, and also a little button
for the side of Susie's nose, such as the smaller
children wear. Think how the girls at school
will admire you!" In one of his letters he said
that a policeman in California came running to-
ward him shouting, "A letter from Tood ! A
letter from Tood !" And in Berlin : "Only two
houses up the street lives the Emperor ! He and
his wife are out of town now, or, no doubt, they
would send some word to Toody."

This is his picture of Venetian bathing: "When
the little children in Venice want to take a bath,
they just go down to the front steps of the house
and jump off and swim about in the streets. Yes-
terday I saw a nurse standing on the front steps,
holding one end of a string, and the other end
was tied to a little fellow who was swimming up
the street. When he went too far, the nurse
pulled in the string, and got her baby home
again."

No letters are sweeter or more characteristic
than the ones which speak of presents for the
Vol. XL.— 18.

children, his great generous heart delighting in
the toy-shops:

Dear Gertie,

I bought the prettiest thing you ever saw for you the
other day. If you were to guess for three weeks, making
two guesses every minute, you could not guess what it is.
. . . When you see it, you will jump the rheumatism right
out of you.

And one more. Over a month before Christmas
he sent a letter headed:

VERY PRIVATE!!
Dear Gertie,

This letter is an awful secret between you and me! If
you tell anybody about it I will not speak to you all this
winter.

Then he went on to say that she was to get the
Christmas presents for him that year for all the
children, finding out what they wanted in the
"most secret way," and that she could spend five
dollars apiece. •

You must ask yourself what you want, but without letting
yourself know about it, and get it, too, and put it in your
own stocking, and be very much surprised when you find
it there! . . . Perhaps you will get this on Thanksgiving
Day. If you do, you must shake the turkey's paw for me.

It is no wonder that a man like that won all
natures, old and young, grave and gay. While
many stories of his personal kindness have been
printed, many more lie buried in remembering
hearts. Perhaps there are alive to-day two Har-
vard men who remember a call from Phillips
Brooks one morning in their college room. They
had been drinking the night before, and the great
preacher must have known it, although he showed
no signs. Instead, he sat down chummily to talk
over the college interests,— the crew, the base-
ball team, the coming vacation. Finally, just as
he was going, he stood up, and, putting a big hand
on the shoulder of each, looked down lovingly
with a, "Well, is it worth it?" and was gone
without an answer. Yet how that heart of his
must have ached, for he was the same man who,
at Lincoln's death, burst out : "I go about our city
and shudder (when I think of such a man as he)
at the frivolous, weak, and inefficient lives our
young men lead ! I see them mere dawdlers in
society. I see them spending their time like mere
babies when there is a man's work to be done."

His wonderful tact, however, often kept him
silent and gave his silence greater power than
speech : those young Harvard men were touched
more deeply by being treated as his comrades
than they would have been by many sermons.

One day a poor woman came to him to ask for
Trinity Chapel for her daughter's marriage.

138

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

"Why not take the church ?" he answered.

"But that is not for the likes of me."

"Oh, yes it is," warmly, "for the likes of you,
and the likes of me, and the likes of every one !"

And so the daughter was married in Trinity
Church, with all its sacred majesty, and the great
organ played her march of joy.

We are not surprised that the man who had
carried a spade in war time gave material help
as well as spiritual. At the time of the great
Boston fire, in which old Trinity was burned,
Phillips Brooks, after saving a few things from
the church, rushed across the street to offer his
services to a great jewelry store which was in
danger. One of the partners filled two large bags
with costly gems, and, through the dark streets, Dr.
Brooks carried the treasure to a place of safety.

So much we have said of his life and so much
of his helpfulness ; let us go now to hear him
preach. In imagination we join the vast throng
that crowds its way into Trinity, filling the vesti-
bule and the aisles and the camp-chairs in the
aisles, and even pushing toward a place on the
pulpit steps. One listener has come all the way
from Canada to hear this man. Many will stand
through the whole service ; many more cannot
even get standing room, for there are twice as
many as the church can hold.

Presently the white-robed choir sings its way
into the church ; the great congregation rises ; and
the service begins. At last the sermon. Six feet
four and broadly filling his large surplice, Phil-
lips Brooks mounts the steps and, almost before
he has reached the pulpit, announces his text and
has begun to preach. You have to listen very
closely, for the words pour out in torrents that
cannot be stayed. Whatever the Bible text, as
Phillips Brooks has told us, he has "but one
sermon,"— "I am come that ye might have life,
and that ye might have it more abundantly." And
now, as he goes on with his plea, you have for-
gotten yourself; you have forgotten Phillips
Brooks; you are remembering God. The whole
congregation is looking up into that strong, open
face and those wonderful dark eyes, and young
and old, rich and poor, wise and ignorant, are
held as one man. The preacher stands away from
the desk. Now he spreads his arms wide in
"loving invitation" meant for all the world; and
now, with one broad hand over his heart, throws
back his head and looks up, up into the dome.
You know he has his power straight from above.
There is not a particle of posing; not a thought
of dramatic effect. He is telling you that you are
a child of God by nature. "God has come to live
in each separate soul in the congregation, and to

allow Him to live in you is the first and only
thing to be thought of." He touches with tender
understanding on all sincerity. "Waiting for the
Lord is having," he says gently. You find your-
self made strong— filled with his courage for life.
"It does not take great men to do great things,"
he says; "it takes consecrated men. Be abso-
lutely simple. Be absolutely genuine. Never
say to any one what you do not feel and believe
with your whole heart." People of "all beliefs
and of no belief" are listening hungrily.

Can this be the boy-failure? The man who,
failing at teaching, was to "fail at everything"?

So he brought men to the Divine Companion
who had understood and comforted him through
all his own hard experience. He had had the
training of failure when he tried to teach ; he had
had the training of doubt before he found his
faith ; and he had had the training of many sor-
rows. First came George's early death, and then
his brother Fred's — the bright young clergyman
who, walking home one dark night from a sick
friend's, fell through an open drawbridge and
was drowned. A few years later, both father and
mother had been taken home, and the loving boy,
who was none the less a loving boy because he
was a great man, found himself lonely for the
ones he used to go to as a child.

But his reunion with those dear ones was
nearer than he thought. On January 17, 1893,
he took a cold which developed quickly into a bad
sore throat, and then into diphtheria. And early
in the morning of Monday, January 23, Phillips
Brooks entered the larger life. His books and
his faithful house-servant were his only compan-
ions at the last; but a man with his faith was
never really lonely.

There was a beautiful service in Trinity
Church while between ten and twenty thousand
stood outside in Copley Square. When the pro-
cession reached Harvard University, eight of the
tallest college seniors, walking all the way, bore
the precious body on their shoulders across the
grounds. And, as they entered, the bell tolled
solemnly, for Phillips Brooks had been.a Harvard
boy, and a Harvard preacher to other boys and
men.

His own two younger brothers— Arthur and
John C. Brooks— both ministers — read the service
at Mount Auburn, and there the lovable boy and
conquering man was laid to rest close to his fa-
ther and mother and Fred and George. A faded
flag flutters over the soldier's grave, and over
Phillips Brooks's is cut in stone :

"Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in
the temple of our God."

Mmma clause

BY PAULINE FRANCES CAMP

*■

ONCE PETER AND PATTY AND POLLY
WENT OUT FOR A RIDE ON THE TROLLEY
A QUARTER AND DIME
EACH HAD AT THE TIME
TO SPEND™ SOME SW«T CHRISTMAS

FOLLY.

POLLY AMD PATTY SAID "CANDY,"
WHILE PETER, A BIT OF A DANDY,

DECIDED TO BUY

A DAINTY NECKTIE.
TO MAKE HIMSELF LOOK SPICK,
AND SPANDY

AND THEN -ON THE CORNER STOOD MOLLY,
THIN, RAGGED, AND QUITE MELANCHOLY
AND SODDING ALOUD
IN THE HURRYING CROWD
FOR SHE'D FALLEN"<»BROKEN HER DOLLY.

SUCH A P«oR LITTLE MIDGET THEY THOUGHT fl-R,

THAT RIGHT WBETUKN TiEH THEY CAUGHT HER;

TO A TOY-SHOP THEY WENT,

EVERY PENNY THEY SPENT,

AND A LOVELY NEW DOLLY THEY BOUGHT HER

WHAT A CHRISTMAS! THING! AND SO JOLLY,
THAT PETER AND PATTY AND POLLY,
ALL OUT FOR GOOD TIMES
WITH THEIR QUARTERS AND DIMES ^
SHOULD HAVE CHOSEN TO SPEND THEM

ON MOLLY!

AaOMEb ftOBWSOM EtMER

A CHRISTMAS CATCH

141

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT

Author of "Careers of Danger and Daring," "Through the Wall," "The Battle," etc.

Chapter IV

JACK MC GREGGOR'S STORY

Days passed, and nothing more was heard of
Mrs. Wicklow Evans. Her disappearance was as
complete and unaccountable as that of her hus-
band the year before. It was evident that an-
other crime had been committed, but whether
there was any connection between the two, the
authorities were at a loss to say. The American
consul at Cairo, and various English and Egyp-
tian officials, did what they could in the way of
an investigation. Then liberal rewards were of-
fered, and a search was made in Cairo and vari-
ous Egyptian villages, but all to no avail.

"It 's incredible !" declared the American con-
sul. "We have no clue to the criminal, no motive
for the crime, and not the slightest indication as
to what really happened. All we know is that on
a certain afternoon, Mrs. Evans strolled casually
out of the Mena House, leaving all her things,
clothing, money, jewelry, and never came back.
At one moment she was there by the pyramid, and
the next moment she was gone."

During the first sad days that followed his
mother's disappearance, Harold found much com-
fort in the companionship of John McGreggor,
or Jack, as he soon learned to call him, who
proved himself, in this emergency, a loyal and
sympathetic friend.

"You stuck to me that day in the pyramid,"
said Jack, "and now I '11 stick to you."

Together the two boys went over every circum-
stance of this mysterious case, weighing scraps
of evidence, searching for motives, questioning
the men, and arguing, like two detectives, over
various theories of the crime. Harold confided
fully in his companion, telling him of his mother's
extraordinary vision, if vision it was, and of her
firm conviction that Dr. Evans was still alive;
he also showed Jack the unfinished message that
he had found in the third chamber of the pyra-
mid.

"Talk about mystery stories !" exclaimed Mc-
Greggor. "This beats anything I ever read !"

Then, for the twentieth time, they speculated
as to what could have happened to make Dr.
Evans break off his message in the middle of a
sentence.

"What gets me," reflected Jack, "is how your
father imagined that you would ever find his mes-

sage in such a freak place. He might as well
have written it on top of the north pole."

"Perhaps he wrote messages in different places
—where they took him— just on the chance," sug-
gested Harold.

"Perhaps your mother is writing messages
now — somewhere. Excuse me, old boy, I did n't
mean to make you feel bad."

"It 's all right, Jack. We 've got to talk this
over," said Evans, bravely. "I guess I 'd go
crazy if I did n't have you to talk to."

After much discussion, the boys decided that it
was best to say nothing to the authorities about
the message that Harold had found.

"Here 's the point, Sandy," argued Jack.
"Your father and mother have been carried off
by the same party— that 's certain. He must be a
rich and powerful old mogul who has some rea-
son that we don't know about. Am I right?"

"Why do you think he 's rich?" questioned
Harold.

"He must have money to get away with such a
thing— money and power. We 're up against a
crafty one, Sandy, and we don't want to let him
know the cards we hold. I say cards; as a mat-
ter of fact, we 've only got one card up to date —
your father's message. We want to get to that
Greek monk just as quick as we can, and we must
n't let the rich old mogul know we 're after him."

"You mean after Basil?"

"Sure ! The thing for us to do, after we 've
done all we can here to find your mother — I 'm
afraid we 've done that already — "

"I 'm afraid we have."

"The thing for us to do, Sandy, is to hurry
across to Jerusalem just as fast as we can without
letting any one know we 're on the track of any-
thing. I would n't even tell that big Turk of
yours."

"Deeny? Oh, he 's all right."

"Don't I know that? Just the same, he might
not hit it off so well with our Greek carpenter.
And we don't want Brother Basil dropped into a
well until we 've got his secret out of him. Do
we?"

Harold smiled.

"I see. I '11 be careful." Then he was silent a
moment. "Say, Jack," he went oh awkwardly,
"it 's mighty good of you to take this interest
in my troubles, but— tell me, are you— are you
thinking of going to Jerusalem with me?"

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

143

"Am I thinking of it? Does a man leave a ball
game in the seventh inning— with the score tied
and three men on bases ? I 'm going to see that
Greek carpenter, if it 's the last thing I do. You
can't drive me away with a club— that is," he
added, with a keen glance, "unless you 'd rather
not have me."

"Oh, no !" answered Harold, quickly. "There 's
nothing I 'd like so much as to have you come
along, Jack, and — and see what we can do — only
— I was afraid you might have other plans and
-er-"

"Other plans ?" laughed McGreggor. "I 've got
the smoothest collection of other plans you ever
heard of. I s'pose you 've been wondering what
I 'm doing over here anyway, knocking around
Egypt looking for trouble instead of being back
where I belong, grinding out Latin verses and
proving that the square of the hypothenuse is
equal to— to some other foolish thing."

"This is vacation," suggested Harold.

"Yes, but I 'm not going back to boarding-
school after vacation. I 'm a bird of the air.
I 'm free. No more hypothenuses in mine. I 'm
on my way around the world."

"That 's great !"

"Maybe not. Maybe I 'm a dunce, as my distin-
guished father has insinuated. Sit down, Sandy,
and I '11 tell you the sad story of John McGreg-
gor."

Then Jack explained how a serious disagree-
ment between himself and the elder McGreggor
had grown out of the double question of Jack's
going to college and Jack's yearly allowance.

"You see I don't want to go to college, Sandy.
The governor never went, and why should I ?"

"Does he want you to go?"

"He 's crazy about it— says he 'd be a bigger
man if he 'd gone. But I don't want to be a rah-
rah boy with a pretty ribbon on my hat. I want
to go into business with Father."

"I 've always wanted to go to college," said
Harold, thoughtfully. "Could n't you go into
business afterward?"

"And waste four years ? And get all out of the
business idea? I 've told him this, but he won't
listen. No— college is the thing, according to
Father. So I finally compromised. I said, 'All
right, I '11 go, but I 've got to have a big, big, big
allowance ! Take me into business, and I '11 get
along on fifty dollars a month pocket-money,' I
said, 'but if it 's college, then I want a lot of
money, please.' I put the figure high to discour-
age my dear old dad, but it did n't work. Dad 's
awfully stubborn. He hung fast to his original
proposition, and at last we compromised on —
say, that was a great idea— took me a whole

night to land it. Listen ! I make this trip
around the world— with three thousand dollars
that the governor advances. And if I come home
after the trip, with the three thousand still to
the good, then he admits that I 've got business
ability, and takes me in with him, and forgets
about the college. But, if I just have the trip
and blow in the three thousand, then I admit
I 'm not as smart as I thought I was, and I
stop kicking, and go to college— with a ribbon
on my hat. Savvy, Sandy?"

Young Evans listened to this explanation with
growing wonder.

"Oh, yes— I understand, but — say, you 've got
your nerve all right !"

"How so?"

"I 've heard of fellows working their way
through college, but when it comes to working
your way around the world, and— stopping at
first-class hotels— how will you ever do it?"

"Tell you how, Sandy. My father 's in the
show business."

"Oh!" said Harold, blankly.

"Moving-picture houses— five and ten cents —
you know. He 's got a string of 'em all over the
country. Packed all the time. Everybody goes
—everybody. Barrels of money in it, but it 's
hard to get good films— a new idea— a snappy
story— something different. See?"

"What 's this got to do with your round-the-
world scheme?"

"A whole lot. Good films with a novelty are
worth money, and I 'm out to get good films.
I 've got the finest moving-picture outfit there is.
I '11 show it to you— up in my room. That 's
what I was looking the old pyramid over for—
thought I might strike something— was going to
have Arabs race up and down and do stunts, but
—there 's not enough story in that. You 've got
to have a story."

Harold was becoming interested.

"I wish I could help you, Jack, to think up a
story," he said.

"Help me ? Why, you have helped me ! This
is the first big idea I 've had— this— excuse nve,
Sandy, you know I 'm sorry, but— just as a story
—this family adventure of yours is a regular
headliner— you know that!"

"You mean you could— you could make some
money out of it?" hesitated Harold.

"Make some money? I '11 bet it 's worth a
thousand dollars before we get through with it—
that means five hundred for you, Sandy."

Harold gasped in amazement. "Five hundred
dollars for— for what?"

"Well, you talk Turkish, don't you?"

"Yes."

144

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Dec,

"And Deeny talks Arabic?"

"Sure."

"There 's ten dollars a day saved right at the
start. Would n't T have to pay an interpreter to
drill the company— you know— in the moving-
picture story? Besides, Deeny can pose as a
Turkish pasha, or a Circassian bandit, or an Ar-
menian prisoner. It 's a case of hire a costume
and dress him up. He '11 make a great bandit-
great !"

"Yes, yes, but — " the boy hesitated a moment,
reflecting that ten dollars a day would come in
wonderfully well to help out the small store of
money he had found among his mother's things.
Still it did not seem right or— or delicate to allow
his father's misfortunes to be used in a moving-
picture story.

"Can't you see this thing opening out?" rattled
on Jack. "The Circassian bandits with their
prisoner are fleeing over the desert on their
camels— say, there 's a moving picture for you !"

"Circassians live in the mountains, and they
ride horses," objected Harold.

"All right, they 're fleeing over the mountains
—on horseback. Mountains are better anyway—
you can have 'em fall over precipices. And along
comes Brother Basil — on a mule — "

"Hold on !" broke in Sandy, suddenly. "I — I
don't want that Greek monk put in the story."

Jack looked at his companion in surprise.

"You don't?"

"No, and I don't want anything that has to do
with my father's message put in, either."

McGreggor took out his gold watch and studied
it with irritating deliberation.

"I see. I did n't know you had bought up all
Egypt and Palestine, Mr. Evans. You ought to
have told me."

Harold's face grew white at this sarcastic fling,
and, for a few moments, the two boys eyed each
other steadily, without speaking. The thing had
come so suddenly that neither Jack nor Sandy
knew exactly what had happened, but both real-
ized, by that strange subconscious understanding
possessed by boys, that something had shifted,
and — it was the first warning of the gathering
storm.

Chapter V

THE STOLEN PURSE

Nothing happened, however, at the moment. The
boys separated good-naturedly enough, and when
they met the next day, there was no trace of
resentment in either of them. On the contrary,
they were more than ever friendly, as if they
wished to forget this little tiff over a trifle.

More than two weeks had now passed since

Mrs. . Evans's startling disappearance, and the
boys agreed that they could gain nothing by stay-
ing any longer at the Mena House, where they
were spending about eight dollars a day.

"We 'd better get a move on," said Jack.
"We 've got to follow up this trail. If you like,
Sandy, I '11 get the tickets."

And now, to his dismay, Harold discovered,
after he had paid the price of his ticket and
settled his hotel bill, that he had only a little over
a hundred dollars left.

Jack noticed his friend's anxious look and
broached the subject of money as delicately as he
could.

"See here, old boy, we 're going into this thing
together, a sort of partnership — share and share
alike— am I right? We 'd better see how we
stand. What 's mine is yours, and — "

"That 's the trouble," smiled Sandy, ruefully.
"What 's mine is yours, too, but— there is n't
enough of it. There !" He drew out a handful
of English sovereigns from his pocket and spread
them on the table.

"That 's enough for pocket-money," said Mc-
Greggor.

"It is n't pocket-money."

"But— you have a letter of credit?"

"No."

"You have circular notes— or something?"

Harold shook his head wearily.

"No. That 's all I have in the world— every
cent I have in the world, so when you talk about
divvying up on your three thousand dollars—"

Jack coughed apologetically.

"I said I had three thousand dollars when I
left Chicago. That was two months ago. It costs
five dollars a day to live."

"Sixty days at five dollars a day," calculated
Sandy, "that 's three hundred dollars."

"And my traveling expenses— that 's three
hundred more."

"Six hundred."

"And two hundred and fifty for my moving-
picture outfit."

"Eight hundred and fifty."

Jack pulled reflectively at his under lip.

"You have n't counted incidentals," he said
finally. "You must add about— er— five hundred
dollars for incidentals."

Harold stared at him.

"Five hundred dollars for incidentals — in sixty
days?"

"Tell you the truth, old boy, I went pretty fast
on incidentals. I spent a week in London. It 's
a dingy old town, but they have a great line of
tailors, and — er — I rather blew myself on clothes
—about seventy pounds, there or thereabout."

1912.]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

145

"Whew ! Three hundred and fifty dollars !"

"And then I met a man in Paris, an American
dentist named T. Beverly Hickman from Chicago.
I guess I '11 remember T. Beverly Hickman."

"Why, what did he do?"

Jack shut his lips tight and nodded grimly.

"Do? He did me ! Gave me a fairy tale about
how he 'd lost all his money, and could n't get
home, and his wife and children were starving.

Anyhow, he got two hundred dollars out of me,
and then I found out that he 'd made up the
whole story. I may meet T. Beverly some day,
and if I do — " There was a world of significance
in the flash of McGreggor's keen, gray eyes.

"Too bad !"'" sympathized Sandy. "Anyhow,
you 've spent— let 's see — eight hundred and fifty
and five hundred and fifty — that 's fourteen hun-
dred dollars of your three thousand?''

"Right ! I 've got sixteen hundred left. And
your hundred makes seventeen hundred. We have
seventeen hundred dollars between us, Sandy, to
— well, to find your father and mother and get
the— er— the moving-picture stuff.
Vol. XL. -19.

"Can we do it?"

Jack smiled in a superior way. "Can we do
it ? With the chances we 've got ? And Deeny
to help us? And that pointer from the third
chamber of the pyramid? Sure we can do it!"

McGreggor's confidence reassured Harold
against his own misgivings, and, with a business-
like hand-shake, the boys agreed to pull together
loyally in this strange partnership.

Two days before their steamer
was to sail for Jaffa (the port of
Jerusalem), the boys moved to the
Grand Hotel in Cairo, and here, on
the very evening of their arrival,
Jack McGreggor got himself into an
adventure that nearly spoiled their
friendship and almost wrecked the
entire expedition.

They had dined comfortably, and,
about nine o'clock, Jack proposed a
stroll through the languorous Esbe-
kieh gardens. Sandy would have
loved this, but his sense of duty bade
him go to his room and answer a
letter that had just arrived from the
American Missionary Board in Con-
stantinople in regard to Mrs. Evans.
So Jack went off for his stroll alone.
About two hours later, as Sandy
was preparing for bed and wonder-
ing what had become of his restless
companion, he heard an angry mut-
tering on the stairs, and presently
McGreggor burst into the room in a
lamentable state, his clothes torn
and his face cut. He was panting
with rage.

"The scoundrels ! The rascals !"
he cried. "Look at me, Sandy !"
Young Evans sprang to his feet.
"Who did it? Who did it?"
"A gang of robbers— thieves. I
was walking in the gardens when a
little chap came along selling flowers — double
geraniums and gardenias, and — anyhow, I bought
a shilling's worth, and— I guess I let him see that
I had plenty of money. Well, he went away, I
thought, but about three minutes later, as I was
looking down one of those queer narrow streets
with carved balconies — you know — "
"Yes, yes."

"Up comes this same little chap again, calling,
'Murican gent'man ! Murican gent'man !' and he
grabs my hand and points down the street. Just
then one of those heavy iron-barred doors in the
wall swung open and three men ran out, a white
man in European dress and two Arabs. The

146

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Dec.,.

white man was trying to get away from the other
two, but they held him. He kept calling, 'Help,'
and I thought he was an American.

"I was feeling pretty fit, and I figured we 'd be
all right two to two. Besides, you can't turn your
back on an American in trouble— you did n't,
Sandy."

"Go on."

"So I jumped ahead and stood by the white

"'one! two! three!' counted mcgreggor, slowly."

man, and as soon as I came up, the two Arabs
stepped back.

' 'What 's the matter?' I asked.

"The white man mumbled something, and, be-
fore I knew it, the Arabs had caught me from
behind so I could n't move or yell or anything,
and then the fellow I thought was an American
— a fine kind of an American he was— he went
through my clothes. Made a good haul, too, my
pearl scarf-pin set with diamonds, and my gold
watch, and five hundred dollars."

"Great Scott !" exclaimed Sandy.

"I drew out the money to-day, Bank of England

notes, so we 'd have enough for our trip. Oh, if
I could only have used my. fists! But they held
me tight, and, when they 'd cleaned me out, they
chucked me down in the gutter and skipped
through the big gate back into the house."

Jack sank weakly into a chair. He was almost
crying with anger and humiliation.

"Brutes !" muttered Sandy. "We '11 make some-
body pay for this !"

"That 's what ! We '11 go to the police station.
Come on, Sandy!" McGreggor started for the
door.

"Wait ! I 've got an idea that— I guess it beats
the police station." Harold thought a moment.
"It does ! It beats it ! We '11 be our own police
and our own detectives," went on Sandy. "And
it might make a moving-picture story, too. It
would !"

Jack shook his head disapprovingly.

"See here, this is n't a dime novel. It was real
money I lost, and a real watch, and— and— "

"But you say they went into the house. I take
it their business is robbing lonely wayfarers,
is n't it?"

"Surest thing you know !"

"All right. What 's the matter with letting 'em
play the game with me ?"

"With you? You mean — "

"Yes,— and you and Deeny trailing after? Eh?"

"Deeny !" repeated Jack, and a grin spread over
his battered countenance as he began to get the
idea. He saw visions of what the huge Turk
would do to these prowling scamps 'if he ever laid
hands on them.

"By Jove ! Right you are, my boy ! And it
docs make a picture story, — a dandy !"

"I '11 get Nasr-ed-Din and give him his line of
work," said Harold. "We have n't any time to
lose. It 's nearly midnight."

Fifteen minutes later, a well-dressed young
American might have been seen wandering
through the now almost deserted Esbekieh gar-
dens. On his waistcoat flashed a gold watch-
chain which ended in a Waterbury watch, but no
one knew this. The youth wandered on, leaving
his coat carelessly open, and presently there began
an Egyptian version of that always interesting
farce, "The Biter Bit." The little flower-seller
came forward pleadingly, as before, the three
robbers appeared in the narrow street, tumultu-
ously, as before, the youth answered the call for
help chivalrously, as before, but, at this point,
the sequence of events changed abruptly with
the emerging of two crouching figures from the
shadows. And one of them came armed with the
terrible strength that nature had given him.

1912.]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

147

A VIEW OF CAIRO FROM OUTSIDE THE WALL: S.

"Now, Deeny !" shouted Harold, suddenly.

"One ! two ! three !" counted McGreggor,
slowly, as three times the Turk smote from the
shoulder, and three men fell groaning.

Jack came forward and knelt over his pros-
trate adversary and quickly opened his coat.

"Now, my friend," he remarked, pleasantly,
"you see the boot is on the other foot. I '11 just
take back my property— this pocket, I remember.
No, no ! Don't use little hands. Now then ! Ah!
Scarf-pin — watch — and the pocket-book ! Every
thing just as it was."

He rose to his feet and motioned to Harold,
who was standing guard over the two Arabs.

"All right, Sandy." Then to the white man,
cringing at his feet, "You hound ! Now go !"

With a swift gesture, Harold gave the same
order to the two terror-stricken Arabs, and, a
moment later, the discomfited trio were scurrying
away into the night.

"Well, we pulled it off, old boy !" rejoiced
McGreggor as they returned through the gardens.

"We certainly did."

"Say, was n't Deeny magnificent ! I believe he
could have picked those fellows up and pitched
'em clean over the wall. You 're all right,
Deeny !" Jack turned to the big Turk with a
gesture of high commendation, at which Nasr-

ed-Din's usually impassive face lighted up with
pleasure, and he salaamed and saluted with all
his soul.

So exultant were the boys over this success,
that they talked of their dangerous coup long
after they had returned to their rooms ; they even
acted out the scenes of it over and over again.

"We must remember every bit of it ; we must
write it down," urged Jack. "If we can work this
up in a big way, it '11 be a top-liner in the moving-
picture houses. Take my word for it. Two
American boys held up by bandits ! Won't they
thrill when the Turk gets his fine work in and the
boy finds his purse?"

Here, with a grand flourish, Jack produced the
stolen purse. "And when he finds the nice, crisp
bank-notes just as he left 'em !"

He opened the purse and drew out a bundle of
bank-notes. But, suddenly, his whole expression
changed.

"Great Scott !" he cried, counting the notes
with feverish haste.

"What 's the matter? What is it?"

For several moments Jack eyed his friend in
solemn silence. Then he said slowly: "Sandy, /
know I had five hundred dollars — that 's a hun-
dred pounds — in this purse. A hundred pounds,
no more, and no less. I know just what I had."

148

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Dec,

JliKEEU PLAY.

"Well?"

"Well, it 's my purse, all right, but — Sandy,
there arc two hundred and sixty pounds in it
now !"

Chapter VI

THE STORM BREAKS

"Two hundred and sixty pounds !" repeated Har-
old, in amazement.

"That 's what I make it," said Jack. "You
count 'em." He pushed over to his friend the pile
of notes, fives and tens, printed on clean white
paper with very black ink, as is the custom of the
Bank of England.

"Two hundred and sixty," verified young-
Evans. "There 's no mistake — that is to say,
there 's a big mistake; there 's a mistake of— of
one hundred and sixty pounds. Jack, are you sure
you only had a hundred pounds ?"

"Of course I 'm sure ! That 's all I drew out
of the bank."

"Then we 've got a hundred and sixty pounds,
eight hundred dollars, that belongs to — those
bandits."

"Not if they stole it."

"Well, it belongs to some one. It does n't be-
long to us."

"You 're right there, it does n't belong to us,"
nodded McGreggor. "Say, this helps the picture
story a whole lot."

"But we can't keep it, Jack— we can't keep it!"

"N-no, we can't keep it. And we can't give it
back to those scoundrels either. In the first place,
it is n't likely we can find 'em, and in the second
place, they must have stolen it."

"I suppose they did," agreed Sandy. "Why
not turn it over to the police?"

"But could you trust them? I have n't any too
much confidence in the natives."

"That 's so," said Sandy, nodding. "Oh, well,
let 's settle it to-morrow ! It 's late, and we 're
both too dead tired to think it out now."

The next morning the discussion continued.
Harold suggested giving the money to the Ameri-
can consul and letting him do what he thought
best with it.

But Jack objected.

"The American consul won't know what to do
with that eight hundred dollars any more than
we do."

"He may find the owner."

"And he may not. Cairo 's a big place."

"If he does n't find the owner, he can — well,
he can give it to Americans who are in trouble.
Lots of 'em get stranded over here."

"Great idea, Sandy ! A fund for Americans in
trouble. We 're in trouble, so— there you are !"

Harold looked indignantly at his friend.

"I did n't mean that," he declared.

"Mean what?"

"Why, you say we ought to keep this money."

"I did n't say any such thing," retorted Jack.

1912.]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

149

"You said it could be given to stranded Amer-
icans in trouble."

"But it was your idea that we might keep the
money," Harold insisted. "You know very well
that 's what you meant."

"See here, my young friend, suppose you let me
be the judge of what I mean."

In McGreggor's tone there was a note of sud-
den defiance that angered
Sandy. In boys' quarrels it
is not so much what is said
as the way it is said that
counts. Here was a deliber-
ate challenge, and young
Evans knew it. They were
right at the danger point
again, but this time neither
boy drew back, and neither
used conciliation.

"Very well," answered
Harold, angrily, "you can be
the judge of what / mean,
too ; and what I mean, Jack
McGreggor, is this" — his
voice was steady enough, but
his face was white — "what I
mean is that you can take
your airs and your money
and your moving-picture out-
fit and go — "

Even now one little
friendly word from Jack, or a
friendly look, might have end-
ed the trouble, but Jack's heart
was hardened, and his answer
only threw oil on the fire.

"Well, where can I go,
Brother Basil?" he asked
tauntingly.

"Straight to Jericho, for
all I care," flashed Harold.

"I don't take that talk from
anybody !"

"You know what you can
do!"

McGreggor stepped nearer
with eyes flashing and arm
drawn back threateningly, as he growled out :

"If that 's what you want — "

"Not here in the hotel," warned Harold. "I '11
fight you this afternoon — anywhere you like."

"All right— out where we were — by
pyramid."

"Pyramid suits me. What time?"

"Five o'clock."

"I '11 meet you there— five o'clock sharp."

It was shortly after four when Harold Evans
stepped off a Gizeh trolley-car and found himself
once more under the vast shadow of Cheops. He
had come out early on purpose, so as to be alone.
He wanted to get through with this thing, and
then never see Jack McGreggor again. The idea
of suggesting that they should keep that eight
hundred dollars !

DO YOU HEAR THAT?' HAROLD WHISPERED."

Sandy walked slowly in the direction of the
pyramid, but turned away toward the palm-trees,
and then turned away again. Both places made
him think of his mother, and a boy with a fight
on his hands does not like to think of his mother.

The shadows lengthened. Some drums in a
neighboring village announced marriage festivi-
ties. A company of yelling riders circled the
plain at amazing speed. They were jereed play-
ers, part of the two days' wedding celebration.

the

150

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

Young Evans sat down near the temple of the
Sphinx. He wondered how he would come out
with McGreggor. Jack had the longer reach, but
Harold was quick on his feet, and — he did n't care
anyway, he was armed with the strength of a
righteous cause. McGreggor had insulted him,
and—

Just then the harsh cough of a kneeling camel,
by some odd association of ideas, brought back
the memory of that last meal with his mother,
there under the palm-trees. He could see her
face, and her hands, and the wonderful light in
her eyes. He remembered how her voice had
quivered as she asked a blessing on their simple
meal.

Sandy stood up and stretched himself. This
was a silly place for a fight. He ought to have
known better than to come here. Of course he
would think of his mother, and — if he did n't
look out, he 'd be getting foolish, and — hello, here
was Jack — climbing off the trolley.

Harold walked across the sand toward his ad-
versary— his friend — the boy who had offered to
divide all that he had with him and help him in
his trouble and loneliness. This fight was a rot-
ten thing, after all. He did n't believe McGreggor
had meant to keep that money. He 'd like to tell
him so, but —

The boys nodded coolly, and Jack put down a
bundle he was carrying. Then they stripped off
their coats and collars, while an Arab looked
on indifferently.

The first round was fairly even. At the end of
the second, Harold came in cleverly under Mc-
Greggor's guard, and knocked him down. At the
end of the third, he knocked him down again.

Jack staggered to his feet, still game.

"Wait a minute," said Sandy. "I want to tell
you something. I think I 'm in the wrong, Jack.
I wanted to say so sooner, but— I could n't very
well. You might have— you might have mis-
understood. I don't believe you ever meant to
keep money you were n't entitled to."

"I did n't, Sandy. I never meant to keep it. I
give you my word I did n't," declared Jack.

"Then — then I apologize for what I said. I 'm
sorry. There 's my hand or — if you want to
punch me some more, why— go ahead."

He held out his hand and stood waiting.

McGreggor answered awkwardly: "That 's very
decent of you, and— I accept it — the way you
mean it, and — there !" He caught young Evans's
hand in a strong clasp.

"I 've got a vile temper," mourned Harold.

Then they sat down under the palm-trees and
ate sandwiches and cakes that Jack had brought
along in his little bundle.

And now a strange thing happened. The sun
sank behind a mass of livid clouds, and suddenly
the light changed to an uncanny olive hue, as if
some great magic-lantern operator had slipped a
piece of greenish glass before the sun. A low
sighing wind came up from the desert. Both boys
turned uneasily, and at this moment three distinct
taps sounded on the ridge of rock beneath them.

"What was that?" cried Harold.

"Sounded like somebody knocking on this
stone," said McGreggor. "Listen ! There it is
again !"

"You 're not doing that, Jack— with your foot
or anything — are you?"

Jack shook his head solemnly. "It 's prob'ly
a bat, or a ghost, or something. Come on ! Let 's
get out of this."

"Wait !"

Sandy's face was pale. He rose slowly and
stood with hands clenched and nostrils dilating,
looking down at a long line of gray rock that
stretched away toward the pyramid.

"What 's the matter?"

"Now ! Do you hear that? Do you hear that?"
he whispered. "It 's the Morse code, one short
and two long. That 's W. Somebody 's calling
W. There ! There ! There !" Harold moved his
hands up and down each time as the taps sounded
— one short and two long.

McGreggor turned wearily.

"What 's this got to do with us? I wish you 'd
come along. It 's prob'ly some Arab telegraphing
his camel to take a bath."

Harold flashed a look at his companion that
brought him to immediate seriousness.

"John McGreggor, four years ago, when I was
in Adana — I was a little shaver, but I remem-
ber the Armenian massacre, and— sometimes we
could n't get from the compound where the mis-
sionaries lived to Father's dispensary ; it was n't
safe. So Father rigged up a telegraph line about
half a mile long, and we all learned to click off
messages. We had different calls for different
people, and Mother had her own call for Father,
and Mother's call was W !"

"Great Scott, Sandy ! You don't mean— you
don't think—" Jack stammered in excitement and
stopped short.

"I think my mother is calling to me from some-
where through this rock, and / 'm going to answer
her. Now listen!"

( To be continued. )

THREE GUESTS

BY JESSICA NELSON NORTH

I had a little tea-party,
This afternoon at three.

'T was very small,

Three guests in all,

Just I, Myself, and Me.

Myself ate up the sandwiches,
While I drank up the tea;

'T was also I

Who ate the pie,

And passed the cake to Me.

Gretchen was in the kitchen-garden, weeding
among the vegetables. "And you really want to
marry me, Jacob?" she said.

"Yes, Gretchen," said Jacob.

"And for why, Jacob ?"

"Well," said Jacob, "we are neighbors, and our
joint property would make a farm larger than
any in the country."

"No other reason, Jacob?"

"Well," said Jacob, "I think you are very beau-
tiful, Gretchen."

"You are not the first, Jacob, to make that dis-
covery," said Gretchen, laughing. "I count them
on the fingers of my hand— Hans, the goldsmith,
Fritz, the miller's son, Farmer Albrecht, Jan, the
bailiff, Carl, the schoolmaster, Heinrich, the
tailor, Max, the greengrocer, Parson Ludwig,
and Burgomaster Wilhelm."

"Is it so?" said Jacob, and he pulled a longer
face than usual, thinking of his nine rivals.

Vol. XL.— 20 '

"Do you love me, Jacob?" said Gretchen.

"Humph !" said Jacob, "there are maids who
would be quite content to love me, without asking
that !"

"Let it be, then, Jacob," said Gretchen. "In
spite of everything, I admire you greatly, and I
will marry you on one condition : that you will
come back again in seven days with at least five
friends ; old or young, rich or poor, wise or sim-
ple, it matters not, only that their affection for
you will be such that they will not be content
when separated from you, even for a moment."

"Humph !" said Jacob, crossly.

"And listen, Jacob!" said Gretchen; "leave
your purse at home— promise me that ! And now
good-by, Jacob."

"Good-by, Gretchen," said Jacob. And he
added to himself, "There are many as fair and
none so impudent ! Marry her indeed ! She '11
wait for me, that she will— I '11 none of her!"

154

JACOB AND GRETCHEN

[Dec,

So he strode along at a great pace until he
reached his own door, where he sat down under
the grape-vine and smoked his pipe to soothe his
feelings, which were somewhat ruffled.

Now I must tell you about Jacob. He was a
worthy soul and a prosperous farmer, but one
would never meet with a sourer face in a day's
journey. Why, he looked at least as if he lived
on pickles and sauerkraut and cider-vinegar, and
a glass of sour lemonade now and then ! He
would have been handsome had his expression
been more amiable. It was unfortunate that he
had become so crabbed, for he had very little to
be unhappy about. He was well-to-do, and had
the finest farm in the neighborhood ; he was
strong and clever— in fact, he should have been
quite contented. But he had become so used to
flying into a temper and letting little mishaps get
the better of his feelings, that he had come to be
known as the sourest man in the country, and the
children poked fun at him, and called him "Crab
Jacob." And you may guess that that did not im-
prove his disposition ! He had scarcely a friend
for miles around ; in fact Gretchen seemed the
only person who cared at all about him. So,
you see, that condition of Gretchen's, that he
should bring her five friends who loved him,
rankled exceedingly.

"Gretchen indeed !" he exclaimed to himself.
"I '11 not be marrying her. I 'm rid of a bad bar-
gain, that I am, and easily." But he sat there in
the sunshine under the grape-vine and felt a lit-
tle uneasy.

Whether he would or no, he could not put her
out of his mind— that bright figure in the butter-
cup-colored gown, and the eyes of corn-flower
blue under the big garden hat. And the smile —
he could n't forget Gretchen's smile, any more
than could you or I, or the ten suitors she counted
on her little fingers.

"She has fine eyes, Gretchen," said Jacob,
watching the smoke wreaths. Puff ! puff ! "She
has hair like the shine on a dove's wing," he
added. He knocked the ashes out of his pipe.
"She smiles like the angels, for all her imperti-
nence," he said meditatively.

Then he got up and started down the path to-
ward the gate. When he reached the gate, he
stopped, felt in his pocket, and took out his purse,
heavy with gold and silver coins. He went back
to the farm-house and laid the purse on the deal
table. Then he strode off again, staff in hand,
and out of the gate he went, closing it carefully
behind him, and kicked up the dust of the king's
highway. "I 'm not marrying her," said Jacob.
"She is the soul of impertinence !"

He plodded along, with never a glance at her

farm, with its verdant acres stretching far and
wide, its windmill and white barns and dove-
cotes, its comfortable farm-house and garden
gay with summer bloom. It was nearly noon and
the sun high in the heavens, so he had hardly
passed the hedge which bordered Gretchen's farm,
before he sat down beneath a roadside tree to
rest and meditate, for the heat tried his temper.

For a long while, he thought and thought, and
at last he said : "There is something about
Gretchen !" He thought of Fritz, the miller's
son, and Parson Ludwig and the rest, and his
heart swelled within him, for all one would have
thought it of clay or stone.

"How can I go about gaining five faithful
friends?" he groaned. For he had never in his
memory had a friend except Gretchen, and he
believed that magic itself could scarce entice
five mortals to follow him for love. He was all
bewildered.

As he sat there, tortured with his thoughts, an
old woman appeared, seemingly from nowhere,
and sat down beside him in the shadow of the
tree.

"Why such a long face, lad?" she said.

Jacob, according to his usual fashion, was
about to rudely reply, "Mind your own affairs,
old woman !" But he checked the speech on his
lips, and said : "I would marry a girl I know, but
she has set a condition which I cannot meet."

"What is that condition, Jacob?" said the old
woman.

"How do you know my name?" asked Jacob,
astonished.

"That is neither here nor there," said the old
woman. "Call me Mother Grethel, if you like,
to square the bargain. But tell me what condi-
tion Gretchen sets."

"You are, indeed, a fairy!" exclaimed Jacob;
"and the first, at that, that I have ever met."

"They only make themselves known to agreea-
ble folk," said the old woman.

"Oh," said Jacob, half inclined to be angry.
But he reflected, after all, that he had at last
met a fairy, even though they had avoided him
for more than twenty years. "If you 're a fairy,
Mother Grethel," he said, "you know it all with-
out my telling you."

"That I do," said the old woman, "and if you
will give me that scarlet feather in your cap, I
will help you to gain all the friends you like."

"That 's poor exchange, indeed, for such ser-
vice," said Jacob, politely, taking the feather
from his cap as he spoke. He found himself
rather pleased with his own civil speeches, and
the more polite he became, the more easily such
speech flowed from his lips.

igi2.]

JACOB AND GRETCHEN

155

"Have you ever been really kind to any one,
Jacob?" said the old woman.

Jacob looked up at the sky and then down at
his boots.

"Well," he said, "I once gave a beggar a silver
coin."

HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?' ASKED JACOB, ASTONISHED.'

"With a heart as cold as the silver, Jacob, I '11
wager. But I '11 not catechize you, Jacob. This
is the secret: Be as kind as you know how to be
to everybody you meet, and smile as much as you
can. It 's a magic talisman toward gaining af-
fection. Whether you will or no, they '11 all be
fond of you."

"That sounds like wisdom, good Mother," said
Jacob, and he smiled most amiably.

"You have planted the right foot forward al-

ready, Jacob," said the old woman, "and you
look as handsome as the best when you smile,
too."

"And you promise me, good Mother," said Ja-
cob, "if I follow your advice, that many will love
me— as many as five, so that Gretchen will be
satisfied?"

"That I promise," said
Mother Grethel, "and I bid you
good day and good luck. And
for the scarlet feather many
thanks." Then she went on
her way.

So Jacob brushed the grass
off his clothes, and, adjusting
his featherless cap at the
-J briskest angle, he set out at a
& smart pace down the highway.
He murmured to himself, con-
tentedly, "Fairies only make
" themselves known to agreea-
ble folk !" He was eager to
begin his collection of affec-
tionate friends as speedily as
possible, for it seemed to him
that it would be a most desir-
able novelty. And then to be
marrying Gretchen as well !
No wonder that Jacob hummed
and whistled !

As he gaily went along the
road, kicking up the dust, he
heard some one call behind
him, and, looking around, saw
an old dame with a basket of
lettuces.
"Hi there, young Master !"
c said she, "you fill a body's old
eyes with dust at every step
you take !"

Jacob almost forgot himself
for a moment, and an imperti-
nent speech rose to his lips.
But whist ! in the twinkling of
an eyelash he remembered,
and, lifting his cap in his best
manner, exclaimed : "A thou-
sand pardons, Madam !" And he implored her
to allow him the great pleasure of carrying
her basket of lettuces on one arm, and offered
the other that he might assist her over the
rough places. So they walked, arm in arm,
into the town, as gay as you please, chatting
away, and the old dame thought she had never
in the world met with so delightful a person as
this handsome young man. Yes, he was, indeed,
growing handsome, was Jacob, as fast as the time

156

JACOB AND GRETCHEN

[Dec,

was flying, having left his long face behind him,
together with his bad temper.

Now Jacob's cap was not much to boast of,
especially since he had traded the scarlet feather
for the old fairy's secret. As they neared the
town, a crowd of small urchins eyed it mischiev-
ously. "Who .would wear a cap without a fea-
ther?" cried one of them. And he picked up a
clod and flung it at Jacob's cap, and knocked it
off in the dust. You can imagine Jacob's old self
leaped up at that! — that is, until he remembered
Gretchen. Swallowing his rage, he picked up the
cap, all begrimed as it was by the dust of the
road, and he stuck it on one ear, and made such
funny grimaces that the small urchins held their
sides for laughter; and the one who had flung
the clod ran up to Jacob and said : "Take me with
you, sir, and I 'll run your errands for as long as
ever you '11 have me !"

"Well," mused Jacob, "that 's two already."
And he whistled softly to himself, and took the
urchin by the hand.

They soon reached the market-place of the
town, where there was a great crowd jostling
and pushing. All of a sudden, Jacob saw twenty
pies and half a gross of frosted cakes go rolling
in the gutter, where the dogs snatched them up.

"Alack-a-day !" cried the pastry-cook, a fat
little man with one eye, "some one jostled my
tray, and there 's ruin for you !"

"Ho ! ho !" said a rival, "none but dogs would
eat your pies and cakes, One Eye !"

And everybody laughed and poked fun at the
unfortunate seller of pastries — that is, everybody
but Jacob. Up he strode, elbowing his way
through the crowd, and said to the pastry-cook,
"Could'st make a bride cake three stories high,
with silver leaves, and a chim^ of bells, and pink
Cupids, and a gross of sugar roses? For I would
be married to Gretchen."

"That I can, Master," said the pastry-cook.

As for the rival pastry-cook, and all the other
scoffers, they fairly gasped, for they knew that
a bride cake such as Jacob described would put
a pretty lot of silver coins in a pastry-cook's
pocket.

"Well, then, come along," said Jacob to the
pastry-cook.

But as soon as they were out of the marketing
crowd, he said: "Good fellow, I would be honest
with you." And he turned his pockets inside
out, so that the pastry-cook could see that he had
not even a copper penny.

"Is there no Gretchen, Master?" said the pas-
try-cook.

"Oh, yes," said Jacob ; "she has eyes the color
of corn-flowers."

"Gretchen is a lucky lass !" said the pastry-cook.

"Why so?" said Jacob.

"Why, to be marrying such a kind, honest,
jolly fellow as you are, Master, to be sure!"

"Will you come and tell her so?" said Jacob.

"That willingly," said the pastry-cook, "and
I '11 make her a bride cake for a wedding gift."
And he trotted along after Jacob, and the old
dame, and the ragged urchin.

"That 's three already," said Jacob, and he
whistled a little tune all to himself.

So they walked on through the town until they
reached an inn, and there Jacob, and the old
dame, and the urchin, and the pastry-cook sat
down in the shade of the trees to rest ; and the
old dame, taking a lettuce from her market-bas-
ket, divided it among the four of them, and the
pastry-cook cut up into equal shares the only
cake he had left. Strange to relate, this meal,
spiced and salted, you might say, with compan-
ionship, tasted to Jacob like a meal fit for a king.
And after all the lettuce was eaten and every
crumb of cake had vanished, Jacob was moved to
sing a comic song which went something like this :

"Oh around and around again go,
With a ha! ha! ha! and a ho!

I could dance all my life

To the whistle and fife,
With a ha! ha! ha! and a ho!"

"Sing it again, dear Jacob," said the old dame.
So as soon as Jacob had got his breath again, he
sang it once more. The landlord of the inn,
hearing the song, came to his door. He was
looking as gloomy as a thunder-cloud, for custom
was poor and his purse was thin ; but he found
the song so irresistible, that he needs must join
in, with the others. And the end of it all was
that they clasped hands and danced about on the
turf, and were as merry as you please.

"Well, well," said the landlord, gasping for
breath, "I 've not had such a frolic since I was
that high ! It does a man good to limber up a "
bit. What care I if times are bad, Jacob, my
boy !" And then he urged them to accept his
hospitality for the night.

"I '11 tell thee now, landlord," said Jacob, "we
've not a penny between us !"

"What of that, Jacob, my boy?" said the land-
lord, clapping him on the shoulder.

" I could dance all my life

To the whistle and fife,

With a ha! ha! ha! and a ho!"

And he danced along the corridors of the inn,
and gave the old dame the very room in which
the king had slept when he visited that town.

IQI2-]

JACOB AND GRETCHEN

157

Now when Jacob and the others were about to
leave the next morning, the landlord locked up
the inn and threw the key down the well.

"Wherefore, landlord?" said Jacob.

"If these other folk throw in their luck with
you, I 'm going along, too, that I am, to dance
at Gretchen's wedding, 'With a ha ! ha ! ha ! and
a ho !' " said the landlord. And he executed a
few fancy steps.

Jacob whistled. "Four already," he said to
himself.

So they marched along the main street of the
town, Jacob, and the old dame, and the urchin,
and the pastry-cook, and the landlord. As they
trudged along, they came upon a crowd gathered
about a vender of gold pins and rings and ban-
gles. Jacob needs must stop and admire.

"How well this would look on Gretchen's little
finger ! How fine that on Gretchen's slender
wrist !" and he felt reflectively in his pocket for
the coins that were not there.

Now there was a man standing by looking at
the fine array, and while the vender's eyes were
directed at something else, he deftly extracted
two rings from the tray, and no one was the
wiser — except Jacob. He had sharp eyes with the
best, I can tell you ! He seized the thief by the
ear and shouted : "Give up those rings, rascal, or
I '11 lead you off to gaol myself !" So the man,
seeing with whom he had to deal, wasted no time
in returning what he had stolen, and was off be-
fore you could turn around twice.

"You have done me a good turn, Master," said
the vender ; "and you shall have one of my finest
gold rings, that you shall !"

At that Jacob's face lighted up. "I would be
marrying Gretchen," he said; "but I have no
money wherewith to purchase the wedding-ring."

"How large is your Gretchen's finger?" said
the peddler.

"Why," said Jacob, "it is very small and pretty,
but I cannot tell you exactly."

"Well," said the peddler, "I would fain be
walking along with you for the sake of your
pleasant company. We will measure Gretchen's
finger for the ring, and mayhap I would like to
give her a gold bangle on my own account."

So Jacob whistled again as they went along,
and said to himself, "Five good friends have I !"
At the thought he could not forbear laughing,
and he laughed and laughed until the merry tears
ran down his cheeks. His amusement became so
contagious that the landlord guffawed as if he
would never stop, and the urchin turned a hand-
spring or two for merriment, and the old dame
cackled. They were standing in front of a linen-
draper's shop, and he came to his door just then.

"What 's all the fun about?" he cried, and
forthwith joined in the laughter, without stop-
ping for a reply.

At last Jacob could speak. "I have five good
friends," he said. And then, for no reason at
all, they all laughed harder than ever !

"You have six, Master," said the linen-draper,
"for you do the eyes good, that you do, with
your merry face !" And he asked Jacob to come
into the shop and have a chair and a chat, before
he went on his way.

Now when Jacob saw the linen materials in the
draper's shop, he admired them exceedingly, and
in his mind's eye fancied Gretchen clad in a dress
of the finest, and looking her prettiest. The
linen-draper read Jacob's admiration, and said :
"You have an eye for my fine materials, Master,
that I see easily."

"Well," said Jacob, "I would be marrying
Gretchen, and cannot help thinking how fair she
would look dressed in this and that !" But he
turned his pockets inside out, and showed the
draper that they were quite empty.

"Look here, Master," said the draper, "I would
be taking a little holiday, and will walk along
with you and your merry company. So I can at-
tend the wedding and make Gretchen a present
of whatever cloth you choose."

"You are, indeed, generous !" said Jacob. And
he chose a white linen cloth embroidered over
with fleur-de-lis. Then the draper locked up his
shop, hiding the key on top of the lintel, and
marched along with Jacob, and the old dame, and
the urchin, and the pastry-cook, and the landlord,
and the peddler.

Now Jacob had a whole five days before
Gretchen expected him to return, so he bethought
himself that he would put in the time seeing the
sights of the town, since he need have no un-
easiness about fulfilling her condition. For, you
see, he had five faithful friends and one to spare.
He was quite blossoming under his popularity,
moreover, and was not averse to gathering in a
few more merry companions as he went along.
In fact, he thought it would be quite a joke to
take back with him to the farm as many as he
could, just by way of a little surprise for
Gretchen ! So he marched along as gaily as pos-
sible, and, would you believe it? the next day he
had added to his train a gaoler and a doctor, two
lawyers and a parson, a carpenter and a shoe-
maker—and the shoemaker was possessed with a
desire to measure Gretchen's foot for the neat-
est, prettiest little slipper in the world, and all for
love of Jacob.

And on Friday, they all set out for Jacob's
farm. And there were a whole hundred of them !

158

JACOB AND GRETCHEN

[Dec,

For by this time, Jacob had become the admira-
tion of a joiner and a conjurer, a schoolmaster,
two dressmakers, and a tailor, a clock-maker and
a chemist, a farmer, two huntsmen, and a scul-
lion, a gardener and a cowherd, a hairdresser
and a butcher's boy, a scissors-grinder and a ma-
son, a goosegirl and a soldier, a washerwoman

ing down the road after them as fast as his legs
would carry him, his ermine-bordered gown fly-
ing out in the wind, and his wig all askew.

"Hi there !" said the Lord Mayor, as soon as
he could gain his breath, "what do you mean, sir,
by running away with half the population of my
town?"

'THE LANDLORD GUFFAWED AS IF HE WOULD NEVER STOP,

and a stone-cutter, two musicians and a town
crier, and ever so many more !

They started down the road, as merry a party
as you 'd see in a day's journey, and Jacob the
merriest of them all ! The town crier was ring-
ing his bell, and the musicians were tooting on
their instruments, and the landlord was singing,

" I could dance all my life

To the whistle and fife,

With a ha! ha! ha! and a ho! "

But they had scarcely gone twenty yards be-
yond the town, when Jacob heard a great halloo,
and, turning round, beheld the Lord Mayor corn-

Jacob looked at him without speaking, and
then, taking a step forward, he smote the Lord
Mayor on the forehead with the palm of his
hand ! At that the lawyer fainted away in the
gaoler's arms, and there was general consterna-
tion !

"What does this mean ?" said the Lord Mayor,
growing very red.

"Do not be hasty," said Jacob. "I stunned him."

"Stunned who?" said the Lord Mayor.

"As big a wasp as I ever saw, old chap !" said
Jacob.

At that the Lord Mayor fairly fell upon Ja-
cob's neck and embraced him. "You 're the first

igi2.]

JACOB AND GRETCHEN

159

man who ever dared to treat me as a human be-
ing," said the Lord Mayor. "I 'm going along with
you, that I am ! I '11 send in my resignation."

"Well," said Jacob, "come along." And he
took the Lord Mayor by the arm, and they all
started off once more down the road.

It was evening when they reached Jacob's farm.

"Well, I '11 settle the matter," said the lawyer.
And he produced a paper and wrote on it, "I
hereby promise to return in half an hour." So
Jacob, with a patient air, affixed his signature to
the document, and then off he went to see
Gretchen.

Gretchen was sitting in her kitchen, industri-

AND THE URCHIN TURNED A HANDSPRING OR TWO FOR MERRIMENT.

The moon was rising, and the white buildings of
Gretchen's farm showed beyond Jacob's hedge.

"Friends," said Jacob, "I '11 be going on to
Gretchen's now, and would you kindly wait here
until I return?"

"Leave us, dear Jacob !" exclaimed the pastry-
cook. And his one eye filled with tears.

"Only for a half-hour," said Jacob.

"Oh, no, Jacob !" said the Lord Mayor, ap-
pealingly.

At that Jacob let his feelings get the better of
him, for once.

"Am I to go a-courting with a whole hundred
of you at my heels!" he exclaimed.

ously spinning by candle-light. Jacob knocked.
Gretchen took up a candle and opened the door.

"I have come back, Gretchen," said Jacob.

"So I see," said Gretchen, and she lifted the
candle high and looked at Jacob's face. She
could hardly believe her eyes, he was so good-
looking ! His sour looks and long face had given
place to merriment and kindliness. She placed
the candle on the table, and then she kissed him.
And you may be sure Jacob was perfectly satis-
fied.

"The moon is risen, Gretchen," said Jacob.
"Let us take a walk, for the air is so sweet and
fresh, and I smell the brier-rose in the garden."

160

JACOB AND GRETCHEN

So he led Gretchen round to his own farm, and
all of a sudden, they came upon Jacob's hundred
friends behind the barn.

Gretchen screamed, "Who are all these peo-
ple !" for in her satisfaction at the change in
Jacob's disposition, she had quite forgotten the
condition she had set.

"Why, you told me I had to have five good
friends before you 'd marry me, Gretchen," said
Jacob.

"Five !" exclaimed Gretchen ; "there are twenty
times five here !"

"Yes," said Jacob, "and they don't like me out
of their sight, poor dears."

After the curiosity of Jacob's friends had been
satisfied (and they all thought Gretchen charm-
ing), the two strolled off.

"Gretchen," said Jacob.

"Yes," said Gretchen.

"Could we be married to-morrow, do you
think?"

"But I have no frock, Jacob."

"Oh, there 's a linen-draper here who has
whole yards of white linen embroidered in fleur-
de-lis, which he has brought you for a gift."

"But, dear Jacob, there is no one to make the
dress !"

"Oh, yes, two dressmakers and a tailor over
yonder behind the barn !"

"What about a bride cake, Jacob?"

"Oh, there 's a pastry-cook who desires no
greater happiness than to bake one three stories
high, with silver leaves, and a chime of bells, and
pink Cupids, and a gross of sugar roses."

"But then, Jacob, a ring ; we can't get married
without a ring !"

"Oh, there 's a man yonder would measure
your finger for a ring, my dear."

"But a parson, Jacob ; we can't get married
without a parson !"

"Oh, there 's one behind the barn, Gretchen!"

"Well then, Jacob," said Gretchen, "we may as
well get married to-morrow."

So the very next day there was a fine wedding.
The Lord Mayor himself gave the bride away,
and she wore a white linen dress embroidered in

fleur-de-lis, and little white slippers with real
gold buckles ; and Jacob put the most beautiful
gold ring upon her finger. The musicians played
"Tweedle-dum-te-dee," and everybody danced on
the turf in front of the farm-house. Then Gret-
chen cut the bride cake, which was the largest
and most wonderful confection they had ever be-
held.

While all the company was still making merry,
Gretchen and Jacob sat down under the grape-
vine for a little chat.

"It is wonderful," said Jacob, with a contented
sigh, "to have so many friends !"

"Indeed it is, Jacob," said Gretchen, "and you
never told me yet how you charmed so many to
follow you. Didst have a magic whistle or a
fairy bell?"

"Oh, no," said Jacob, "but I met an old fairy
woman who told me a secret."

"And what is the secret, Jacob?"

"Oh, just to smile at every one and do a good
deed whenever you get the opportunity."

"A great deed— like slaying a dragon, Jacob?"

"Oh, no, Gretchen, just a kind word or look as
you pass along, and a helping of people over the
rough places."

Gretchen smiled. "Jacob," she said.

"Yes, Gretchen ?"

"I have a confession to make, Jacob."

"Yes, Gretchen?"

"That old fairy woman was myself, Jacob, in
Mother's old black quilted cloak !"

You can well imagine Jacob's astonishment at
that piece of news !

"You, Gretchen !" was all he could say.

"Yes, Jacob," said Gretchen, and taking up
Jacob's old cap where it was lying on the garden
seat beside them, she stuck the scarlet feather
back in its place.

"It looks better," she said, twirling the cap
round on her finger.

Jacob drew a long breath. Then he kissed
Gretchen on both cheeks, and laughed and
laughed as if he would never stop.

"I have married a clever wife, that I have !"
said Jacob.

They had always kept Christmas at home, even
if in no very expensive way. On the very last
one, Johnny had had his skates, tied to his stock-
ing, and, inside it, an orange and nuts and raisins,
and some little trick-joke, and a stick of candy;
and Robby had had his sled, and Marnie her
book, and Bessie her tea-set; and Mr. Murtrie,
the father, had a pair of wristers that Nancy had
crocheted, and a muffler that his wife had knit ;
and the mother had a needle-book that Marnie
had made, and a bread-plate that Johnny had
whittled out, and a piece of jig-saw work from
Robby, and a muff from the father. And Marnie
had written a poem to Father and Mother, which
all the others criticized violently and ruthlessly,
but which was privately regarded as a great
achievement by every one of them.

But what was there to do here with sleds and
skates ! Great use for a muff out in the middle
of the Texas prairie, to which they had come
from the North. Why, yesterday the thermom-
eter was just at summer heat, and roses were
blossoming !

At home how gay it was with every one com-
ing and going, with purchases and parcels and
merry secrets, with the hanging of the green,
with big snow-drifts, and coasting down Long
Hill by starlight, with going to church in the
forenoon, and coming home to turkey and cran-
Vol. XL. — 21-22. 1

berry sauce, and a pudding in blue flames ! Here
there was nothing, there was nobody. There
was n't a shop within a hundred miles, and if
there were, there was no money with which to
buy anything. For Mr. Murtrie had come to grief
in his business, losing, when all debts were paid,
everything but this ranch, to which he had
brought his family, and where it seemed like a
new world.

At first, it had been so novel, no one thought of
homesickness. Nancy herself had enjoyed as
much as any one the singing of the mocking-birds
at night, the flashing of the cardinal's red wings
in the radiant mornings and the bubbling of his
song, the fragrance of the jasmines, the beauty
of the innumerable flowers, the charm of the
wide landscape, the giant trees draped in their
veils of gray moss; she had enjoyed hearing the
boys tell about the bat-caves, with their streams
of unnumbered wings going out by dark and
coming in by dawn in myriads ; she had en-
joyed lying awake at night to hear the water
gently pouring through the irrigation ditches
from the madre ditch, and drowning all the land
in its fertilizing flood to the sound of slow music ;
she had enjoyed watching the long flights of wild
ducks ; seeing a spot apparently covered with
yellow flowers that suddenly turned into a flock
of birds that rose and flew away. She had

162

NANCY'S SOUTHERN CHRISTMAS

[Dec,

enjoyed the strange cactus growths that seemed
to her like things enchanted in their weird shapes
by old magicians; she had enjoyed the thickets
of prickly pear, the green and feathery foliage
of the mesquit bushes, many of them no higher
than her head, but with mighty roots stretching
far and wide underground, the Indians having
burned the tops in their wild raids, year after
year, long ago. But now Nancy was longing for
the bare branches of her old apple-tree weaving
their broidery on the sky, for the young oak by
the brook which held its brown leaves till spring,
for the wide snow-fields, the shadows of whose
drifts were blue as sapphire. She was longing
to hear the bells ring out their gladness on
Christmas eve and Christmas morning, for the
spicy green gloom of the church, for all the
happy cheer of Christmas as she had known it.
Bells? There was n't a bell within hearing; there
was n't a church, except the ruins of an old
Spanish mission three or four miles distant.
How could there be Christmas green where there
was n't a spruce or a fir ! There was only this
long, dreary prairie of the cattle-range under its
burning blue sky. It was the very kingdom of
loneliness. Christmas without snow, without an
icicle, without whistling winds, — oh, it was n't
Christmas at all !

And then suddenly, as the angry words re-
sounded and echoed in her mind, she asked her-
self what made Christmas, anyway? Certainly it
was n't the things people did. In some places
they kept it with blowing of horns and burning
of fire-crackers, as they did Fourth of July. Per-
haps in that way they expressed as much gladness
as others did with the pealing from belfries and
the rolling of organ tones. For Christmas was a
time to be glad that Christ came to make all
Christendom good, and blessed, and happy.

And, just as suddenly, Nancy could not help
asking herself what she was doing to express
gladness or to make Christmas happy. North
pole or south pole, Christmas was Christmas, and
it was n't all in pleasures or all in gifts; and she
got out of bed, and knelt down and said a prayer,
and went to sleep in a better frame of mind.

But if it was n't all in pleasures or all in gifts,
there must be some gifts; and next day, Nancy
set herself to thinking out the problem. It was
still some time before the great holiday, and every
hour must be improved.

For the first thing, she betook herself to one of
the men on the range who often came about the
buildings ; and he found for her several huge
horns, and, with his help, and taking Johnny into
her confidence, they took grease and brick-dust,
and scraped and polished these horns till they

shone almost like silver. Then the three dug for
a big mesquit root and secured one, at last, that
grew from a great stock; and they scraped and
polished that into a very handsome piece of
wood ; and, having a little knack of carpentry,
they fitted the enormous horns into the mesquit
root, and there was a chair for any palace. It
was to be their father's, and was to stand on the
gallery, where, some night, the night-blooming
cereus that laced the whole front would open its
slow, delicious flowers, and shed the balm of
heaven about him.

They found it a little difficult to keep this se-
cret, because they began work upon it before
Mr. Murtrie went off on his hunting-trip with
some friends ; but after he had gone, things were
easier, as the mother was not inclined to prowl
about and look into everything, as the head of a
house sometimes thinks necessary.

And for the mother, — they knew where some
tall flat grasses grew, near a stream that was
brimming at this season, and Johnny waded in
and got them. Nancy plaited them into a low
work-basket, and lined it with a bit of silk that
had been her doll's skirt in her day of dolls. The
doll, that had been religiously put away, was
taken from her slumbers and furbished for
Bessie's Christmas. "Why, really, it 's going to
be a Christmas, after all," she said.

"Only it 's so queer to have it so warm," grum-
bled Johnny. "Winter without snowballing is n't
winter !"

"Oh, I don't know," said Nancy, beginning to
defend the thing she had adopted.

The man who had found the horns for her
found also a little baby fox, and that was kept in
great seclusion to become, on Christmas morning,
a pet for Johnny ; and Marnie and Nancy had
great times together feeding it. He had the fun-
niest little bark already. "Oh, we are coming
along !" cried Nancy.

But there was more to be done. She remem-
bered that once, when her father had taken her to
see the ruins of the old mission, she had observed
a number of Mexican "shacks," or huts, near by.
She saw the dinner of one family, which con-
sisted of half a sweet-potato and a red pepper.
But she had also seen a big cage full of canarios.
And so Nancy and Johnny set out to walk over
to the mission, losing their way several times, but
finding it again all at once. There an Indian
woman, who was about thirty years old and
looked a hundred, flung her baby, which was the
loveliest little harmony of brown and rose you
ever saw, into her husband's arms, and, after a
great deal of pantomime and dumb show, sold,
for the price of the last piece of silver in Nancy's

I9I-2.]

NANCY'S SOUTHERN CHRISTMAS

163

purse, a pair of the canarios in a cage made of
reeds, each one an exquisite pinch of feathers, a
lot of living gems, of all colors of the rainbow,
blue, and yellow, and green, and purple, and red,
and brown — iridescent little things, with a song
like the faintest, prettiest echo of a Hartz ca-
nary's song. And there was Mamie's Christmas
present settled.

But for Robby? Oh, there was the horned
toad she had heard about. Robby had seen one
in some show or other at home, and had longed
for it. Here it was to his hand, — if she could
find it. And with the help of the man who had
helped her before, and who could not fancy what
she wanted it for, find it she did. Robby would
be delighted.

If Nancy had been born in the region, or was
living in any town there, she would have found
no difficulty in making Christmas presents like
those she had hitherto given; but these gifts that
she found possible were unique and
unlike anything she could have ob-
tained at her old home.

And now for sweetmeats. Well,
they had dried some of the luscious
grapes, and there were the raisins in
the pantry, just oozing and crusted
with sugar ; and there was the barrel
of molasses from the sugar-mill down
on the Brazos ; no one could make
more delicate candy than Nancy could
and did ; and there had been a great
harvest of pecan-nuts ; and thus, so
far as the stockings were concerned,
Christmas had no more to ask.

The expected day was close at hand, and
Nancy pictured to herself how it would, all go
off— how the stockings would be hung up, how
Johnny would help with the chair and then be in
bed before his own gift appeared, and how she
would be up at the peep of dawn to go out and
bring in that baby fox— the delicate, delicious,
dewy dawn — and make his bed under Johnny's
stocking, tying his leash to the toe, after fasten-
ing it securely to a hook in the chimney ; and how
she would untwist and unbind and unlace a great
branch of the roses outside that were having a
late blossoming on their luxuriant growth, and
bring it into the window and train it all around
the room under the ceiling. It would be — well, as
beautiful as the Christmas green; it could n't be
more beautiful, she said in her thoughts.

It was at this time that Mrs. Murtrie began to
be a little anxious about her husband. He should
have returned from his hunting-trip some days
before, and he was still absent, no one could say
where. And, of course, she was conjuring up all

sorts of frightful possibilities in the way of acci-
dents, and Marnie was helping her ; and Nancy
herself, although ordinarily holding her father to
be invulnerable, felt a degree of alarm as she
thought what if he had fallen into some gulch, or
lost his way, or drowned in one of the rivers that

"THE FATHER STOOD BEFORE THEM HOLDING
AN IMMENSE BIRD."

rose, after a rain in the hills, so swiftly that, in a
town below, a man had been overtaken before he
could get off the bridge. As for Johnny, he was
for going out to find his father, if he only knew
which way to go. As night fell, and it was
Christmas eve, the house was full of a sort of
electric tension; no one said just what every one
was thinking, till suddenly Bessie broke out with
a great sob, and cried : "I want my papa !" Then
every one fell to comforting her, and all were
furtively wiping away tears, when steps rang on

164

NANCY'S SOUTHERN CHRISTMAS

the gallery, the door burst open, and the father,
with his blue eyes shining out of his browned
skin, and. his great voice resonant, stood before
them, holding an immense bird with wide-spread-
ing wings.

"It 's a wild turkey," he said, after the up-

" THE LOVELIEST, SILVERIEST, SOFT SNOW WAS FALLING.

roarious greetings, and as soon as they loosened
their embraces. "I was resolved not to come
back without a turkey for Christmas. And it 's
a great deal richer and sweeter than any home-
made bird, as you '11 see when it 's roasted."

A turkey! And Nancy had but lately been
bemoaning herself that the dinner would be with-
out a turkey ! She had gone to bed, and so she
did not see her mother seize the wings of that
wild trophy, and trim them, and run out to the
kitchen in the adjacent building and dry them
well in a hot oven, and later
trim them again, and bind
them at the base with the
palms of an old kid glove,
and so finish, for Nancy's
Christmas, as fine a feather
fan as one could wish to
wave on a hot summer after-
noon.

But at last, when the house
was quite still, Nancy crept
out of her room and sum-
moned Johnny to help her
with the chair. Johnny was
too sleepy not to be glad to
be dismissed after that, and
then she disposed of the
presents exactly as she had
planned, and wondered what
the large parcel was, swing-
ing by a string from her own
stocking, and went to sleep
to the tune of the song a
mocking-bird sang, sweet,
and strong, and joyous, in
the pecan-tree outside, till a
rising wind swept it away. '
And if you could have
looked into the living-room
of that bungalow next morn-
ing, you would have seen
Johnny hugging his baby
fox, and Bessie hugging her
doll, and Marnie chirping to
her birds, and their mother
putting spools, and needles,
and scissors into her work-
basket, and the father taking
his ease in his big chair with
its shining supports, and
Nancy leisurely fanning her-
self, as if there were not
a norther blowing outside,
which, had the casements
been open, would have blown
the rain quite across the
room. Rain ? No, oh, no ! For, see ! look !
For a wonder, the loveliest, silveriest, soft snow
was falling, which, even if it melted to-morrow,
made Nancy's northern heart feel, in her south-
ern home, the spirit of Christmas everywhere.

Jp Harriet L.Wedg^ood

lllvwira ted hrp

^ Fanny Y. Cory
i \ ^ ^

Once upon a time, there lived a lady who had
one son whose name was Billy. One day Billy
said to his mother: "Mother, I wish for to set out
on my adventures."

"Very well, my son," replied his mother ; "how
long shall you be gone ?"

"A year, I guess, or more or less,"' answered
Billy, "depending on the time it takes. What will
you give me for my journey?"

"This gold chain," she said, "which may be of
use to you ; and ten pieces of gold for your purse."

"Thank you, Mother," said Billy.

Then he put the chain about his neck, the ten
gold pieces in his purse, kissed his mother, and
began to make ready for his journey.

First he went to the Old Woman of the Wood,
and rapped three times on the door.

"Who 's there?" asked the Old Woman of the
Wood.

"It 's I, Billy Bowline, going for to set out on
my adventures."

"How long shall you be gone?" asked the Old
Woman.

"A year, I guess, or more or less," replied
Billy, "depending on the time it takes. What
will you give me for my journey?"

"This stick," said the Old Woman. "Strike it
on the ground to give yourself the strength and
stature of a giant ; wave it in the air when you
wish to grow small."

"Thank you, Old Woman of the Wood," said
Billy. And he stuck the stick in his belt and went
on his way.

Presently he came to the house of Chanticleer,
the White Cock, and he rapped three times on the
door.

"Who 's there?" cried the White Cock, crowing
lustily.

"It 's I, Billy Bowline, going for to set out on
my adventures."

"How long shall you be gone?" asked the White
Cock.

"A year, I guess, or more or less," replied
Billy, "depending on the time it takes. What will
you give me for my journey?"

"Spurs," said the White Cock.

"Spurs !" exclaimed Billy. "For what shall I
need spurs on a voyage ?"

"Do you expect to sail on forever," asked the
White Cock, "and never come to land? A fine
adventure that would be !"

Then Chanticleer, the White Cock, stooped

166

THE ADVENTURES OF BILLY BOWLINE

[Dec,

down and took off his spurs, and fastened them
to Billy Bowline's heels.

"With these," said the White Cock, "you can
ride anything that runs on four legs."

"Thank you, hold Chanticleer," said Billy, and
went on his way.

'MOTHER, I WISH FOR TO SET OUT ON
MY ADVENTURES.' "

Next he came to the house of the Silversmith,
and rapped three times at the door.

"Who 's there ?" asked the Silversmith, in a
thin voice.

"It 's I, Billy Bowline, going for to set out on
my adventures."

"When shall you return ?" asked the Silver-
smith.

"In a year, I guess, or more or less, depending
on the time it takes/' said Billy. "And what can
you give me for my journey?"

"This ring," said the Silversmith. "It will give
you three wishes. Turn it three times on your
finger and say your wish aloud, and whatever you
wish for shall come to pass."

"May I wish anything I choose?" asked Billy.

"Anything you choose," answered the Silver-
smith.

"Then I wish," said Billy, turning the ring on
his finger, "I wish that I may have six wishes
instead of three."

The old Silversmith looked angry and stamped
his foot ; but soon he began to chuckle and grin.

"Six wishes it is then," he cackled; "six wishes

it is. But no more, Billy, no more. And you
have wished one wish already."

"I shall do very well with the five I have left,"
said Billy. "Thank you, Old Man," and he went
on his way.

By and by he came to the house of Linda, the
Bakeshop Maid, and he rapped three times on the
door.

"Who 's there?" asked the Bakeshop Maid.

"It 's I, Billy Bowline, going for to set out on
my adventures."

"When shall I see you again, Billy Bowline?"
asked the Maid.

"In a year, I guess, or more or less," said
Billy, "depending on the time it takes. And what
will you give me for my journey?"

"This bag," answered Linda, and she handed
him a small leather bag drawn together at the top
with a leather string. "Hang this on your arm,
Billy, and you need never go hungry or thirsty.
In it you will find all manner of good eating and
drinking."

"Thank you, Linda," said Billy, with a sweep-
ing bow, and he hung the bag on his arm.

Then Billy went on until he came to the Very
Wet Sea; and when he was come to this sea, he
saw that the water was blue as sapphire, the foam
was white as snow, and the sunshine over all was
yellow as' gold.

"It is a fine day," thought Billy, "for to set out
on an adventure. But first I must find a ship."

So he went to the house of Hans, the Ship-
builder, who lives at the edge of the Very Wret

"THEN CHANTICLEER FASTENED THE
SPURS TO BILLY BOWLINE'S HEELS."

Sea, and who makes ships for the King. Billy
rapped three times at the door.

"Who 's there?" asked Hans, the Shipbuilder.

"It 's I, Billy Bowline, going for to &et out on
my adventures."

1912.]

THE ADVENTURES OF BILLY BOWLINE

167

"How long shall you be gone?" asked Hans.

"Oh, a year, I guess, or more or less," answered
Billy, "depending on the time it takes. What kind
of ship can you give me for my voyage?"

"What kind of ship do you wish?" asked Hans.

"Oh, anything at all," replied Billy ; "anything
at all that will carry me over the sea."

"Mercy on us," cried Hans, "what a hurry you
are in ! But I think you will have to wait, for I
have nothing at all for you now."

"Nevertheless," said Billy, "I must have a boat
now. I will take one of these models."

"I cannot part with any of them," said Hans ;
"they are my patterns, and I cannot spare them."

t'V*

HOW LONG SHALL YOU BE GONE?' ASKED THE OLD WOMAN.

"Then no doubt I can please you," said Hans ;
"I make ships for the King."

"Let me see them," said Billy.

"Now?" asked Hans, in surprise. "I cannot
show you any now, — I build ships for people, and
they take them away. I have none here now.
But I can build a fine ship for you. See, here are
my models." And he showed Billy many models
of ships, long and short, wide and narrow, brigs,
schooners, and men-of-war, with masts and spars
and ropes and sails complete in every part.

"These are all very fine," said Billy, "but I can-
not wait for you to build a ship, — I want a ship
now, as I have set out on my adventures."

"No doubt you can make others," said Billy,
"and I will pay you well"; and he laid three
pieces of gold in the Shipbuilder's hand.

Then Billy took his pick of all the models, and
chose one with a very large sail and a small
wooden sailor standing in the bow. Then he took
the boat in his arms and went down and launched
it in the Very Wet Sea.

"It is plain," said Billy to himself, "that my
boat must be larger or I must be smaller, — and I
have a mind to leave the boat as it is."

Then he took the stick from his belt and waved
it above his head. He felt himself slowly shrink-
ing. The more he waved the smaller he got, and

168

THE ADVENTURES OF BILLY BOWLINE

[Dec.

he did not stop until he had grown as small as the
wooden sailor.

"And now," said Billy, turning the ring three
times on his finger, and speaking aloud, "I wish
that the wooden sailor may come alive."

No sooner said than done. The wooden sailor
began to move his legs and arms, and presently he
took off his cap and made Billy a bow.

"Very good," said Billy; "you are a proper
sailor. I shall call you Peter. I am Captain Billy
Bowline, and this is my ship. You will be my
mate and fellow-adventurer."

"Aye, aye, sir," said Peter ; "will you come
aboard ?"

So Billy went aboard, and he and Peter set sail
on their voyage over the Very Wet Sea. And

" ' I WISH, SAID BILLY, 'I WISH THAT I MAY HAV
SIX WISHES INSTEAD OF THREE.' "

they sailed for sixty days and sixty nights, over
blue water and green, through hurricanes and
fair weather, till they came to a tropical island.

When they reached the island, Billy said to his
mate :

"This, no doubt, is the place of our adventures.
Let us go ashore and explore the island."

"Very well," said Peter ; "but first let us eat
and drink."

So they took out of the bag all manner of good
things, and they ate and drank their fill.

Then they set out to explore the island.

The first live creature they met was a Mouse.

"Good day. Mistress Mouse," said Billy, with
a bow, while the Mouse regarded them kindly.

"Good day," said the Mouse; "and who might
you be ?"

"Two sailors are we in search of adventure."
"In search of adventure \" said the Mouse.
"Then you can do no better than to follow your
noses till you come to the place where the Rat
lives. He is himself a bold adventurer, but I ad-
vise you to keep clear of him. He is big and
fierce and terrible, and will surely do you harm."
"I am not afraid," said Billy; "an adventurer
is never afraid. I have a mind to meet him."

"Pray do nothing so rash," urged the Mouse;
"he will surely eat you."

"I am determined to meet him," said Billy; "I
am not afraid."

So Billy and Peter went on their way till they
came to the place where the Rat lived. And the
Rat stood in his doorway, pulling his long
whiskers.

"Good day, Mister Rat," said Billy.
"Good day," said the Rat ; "and who might you
be?"

"Two sailors in search of adventure."
"Adventure?" said the Rat, with a little smile;*
"Pirates or Lost Princesses?"

"Pirates," said Billy. "Are there any
hereabouts?"

"A few," said the Rat. "I am some-
what of a Pirate myself."

"I have no doubt of it," said Billy.
"But are there men about who search
for gold and hidden treasure ?"

"There are a few of those also," said
the Rat. "They do not greatly interest
me, — I have adventures in plenty of my
own."

"But I should like to see these men,"
said Billy. "Will you not carry us
thither?"

"I think my ears deceive me," said
the Rat ; "for I almost thought I heard
you ask me to carry you, — and that, of
course, could not be."

"Yes, but I did," said Billy; "and I will pay
you well. I will give you this long gold chain
which I wear on my neck." And Billy unwound
the chain and held it up before the Rat.

"You are a bold lad," said the Rat ; "but I had
rather carry you in my stomach than on my
back." And he threw back his head, opened his
mouth, and laughed a wicked laugh.

But Billy did not flinch; he only stood holding
up the gold chain in both hands.

Then the Rat looked down at Billy, and saw
with surprise that Billy showed no fear.

"Ho, ho," said the Rat, "are you not afraid?
Then I will make you afraid."

191-'.]

THE ADVENTURES OE BILLY BOWLINE

169

He leaned down toward Billy, opened his
mouth very wide, and showed all his sharp teeth.
But now, as he opened his
mouth, he felt the gold
chain thrust into it like a
bit. He shut his jaws with
a snap, and dropped down
on all four feet, and then
tried to shake the chain
from his mouth ; but be-
fore he could do this,
Billy had jumped on his
back, seized the free
length of chain for a
bridle-rein, and dug the
spurs into his sides.

"Perhaps," said Billy,
"you will carry me, after
all."

The Rat gnashed his
teeth, but could not shake
off his rider because of
the magic spurs.

"Get up behind me,
Peter," said Billy; "we
will see whether the Rat \
will carry double."

Peter climbed up be-
hind Billy on the Rat's
back, nor could the Rat
prevent it, though he
fought hard.

"Now," said Billy, "take me to the Pirates."

In a moment, they were off and away, over hills
and bogs, fens and waterways, the Rat fighting
all the way, but Billy able to manage him because

minutes, till, at last, they came to the Red Cliffs

and the Cave of the Pirates.

"This," said the Rat, in a strange voice,
because of the bit in his mouth, "is the
Cave of the Pirates, and yonder are the
Pirates."

Billy could not, at first, see anything at
all, because of the darkness, but when his
eyes had become accustomed to it, he saw ten
men whom he knew to be Pirates. They
were walking to and fro, loading heavy sacks
upon each other's shoulders. Billy knew
these were sacks of gold. Presently the
Pirates, of whom there were twenty, went

"THEN BILLY LAUNCHED THE BOAT IN THE VERY WET SEA

of the spurs, riding fast and riding slow, jumping
high and jumping low, for five hours and twenty

THANK YOU, LINDA, SAID BILLY, WITH A SWEEPING BOW.

out of the cave one by one, carrying the sacks of
gold on their shoulders.

Now when they had gone,
Billy heard what sounded like
a man's groan ; and looking
around, he saw a man lying
on the ground, bound hand and
foot. Billy rode up to him
and spoke to him.

But the man, seeing the
Rat, was frightened, and ex-
claimed : "What, Whiskers,
are you come to trouble me,
now that I am bound hand and
foot? For shame!"

But Billy took hold of the
man's hair and tweaked it, and
the man turned and looked at
Billy and Peter.

"What are you," asked the
man, "gnomes or fairies?"

"Neither," said Billy, "but
only two sailors in search of
adventure."
At this the man laughed with a great noise that
echoed through the cave. But Billy only said:

170

THE ADVENTURES OF BILLY BOWLINE

[Dec,

"Who are you, Man?"

"I am a Mining Mariner," said the man. "I
came hither in my good ship for gold. And gold
I found in plenty. But the Pirates found me.

" 'TWO SAILORS ARE WE IN SEARCH
OF ADVENTURE.' "

They have stolen my gold, and even now are
loading their ship and mine with the gold ; and
when that is done, they will sail away and leave
me here to die."

"Not so," said Billy. "We will take a look at
these Pirates."

The man laughed again with a noise like thun-
der.

Then Billy commanded the Rat to gnaw off the
rope that bound the man ; and the Rat, who now
feared Billy, began to gnaw.

"Gnaw faster," commanded Billy. And the Rat
gnawed with might and main till the man was
free.

Then Billy dismounted, leaving Peter still on
the Rat's back.

"Go back to the ship, Peter," said Billy, "and
wait for me. Here are my spurs. With these
you can ride anything that runs on four legs."

So Peter, riding the Rat, started back to the
ship, and soon was lost to sight.

When Peter and the Rat had gone, Billy took
the stick from his belt and struck the ground to
give himself the strength and stature of a giant.
At each stroke he gained six feet in height, and
after a dozen strokes, he was a giant more than

seventy feet tall, with the strength of a hundred
lions.

When the Mining Mariner saw this marvel, he
turned as if to run away.

"This island," said he, "is no place for a civil-
ized man."

"Nonsense," said Billy ; "you are not afraid of
me, are you ? This is only a part of my adven-
ture. I am now ready to take a look at the
Pirates."

So Billy and the Mining Mariner went down to
the edge of the cliff and peered over at the Pi-
rates. Some were walking along the narrow path
that runs down over the face of the cliff to the
sea ; some were on the sandy beach, farther on,
loading the sacks of gold into the boats.

"See me catch one," said Billy.

Then Billy lay flat on his stomach and reached
down over the edge of the cliff with his great
arm and hand ; and with his thumb and finger, he
caught one of the Pirates under the arms, and
lifted him, as- you would a beetle; and he raised
him high over the edge of the cliff and gave him
to the Mining Mariner to bind hand and foot.

When the other Pirates saw their companion
lifted high in air over their heads by a great hand
and arm that reached down from the top of the
cliff, they were much afraid; and they ran this
way and that, trying to escape or to hide them-
selves. And when they found that they could
neither escape nor hide themselves, but that the
great hand would overtake them and catch them,
they banded themselves together and drew their
swords and cutlasses to fight the great hand ; and
they stabbed and slashed most furiously.

"What wasps we have here!" said Billy; "if
wishing could tip their blades with poison, I
should feel something as bad as wasps' stings."

Nevertheless, he caught them, one by one. And
the Mining Mariner bound them hand and foot,
and laid them beside their fellows on the cliff.

"Now," said Billy, when all were caught and
bound, "what fit punishment shall I devise for

igi2.]

THE ADVENTURES OF BILLY BOWLINE

171

.'. I ■'■ ■■' •-'.-.■:. vV.;-:-'>-/..-,; : . ■■
" 'NOW',' SAID BILLY, 'TAKE WE TO THE PIRATES.

these men? If I drop them into the sea, you will
have nobody to man your two ships. If I release
them as they are, they will kill you and escape
with the gold."

"That is very true," said the Mining Mariner.
"But I had rather try my luck alone than with
these men."

"Perhaps," said Billy ; "but I have a mind to
make these men serve you."

At this the Pirates raged, and one of them
said : "We have never served any man, and we
will not serve this Mining Mariner. You may do
many things, Big Man, but you cannot make us
do this."

"I have a plan at this moment," said Billy. "I
have four wishes left; I can use one for this
thing. You all shall become apes, each for as
many years as he stole bags of gold. If you serve
this man well, when you have served your time,
you shall be men again ; and this Mining Mariner
shall give you each one bag of gold, and you shall
go whither you will."

Then the bags of gold were counted, all that
were in the ship or in the boats at the foot of the
cliff; and there were a hundred and twenty bags.

"Then," said Billy to the Mining Mariner,
"there were six bags for each man. Therefore
each man shall serve you six years."

So he turned the ring three times on his finger,
and said aloud: "I wish that these twenty men
may become apes for a space of six years ; and all
that time they shall serve the Mining Mariner ;
and at the end of that time, if they have served
him well, they shall become men again, and go
whither they will."

No sooner said than done. The twenty Pirates

changed into twenty apes. They could
not talk, but only grin and chatter ; and
hair covered their hands and faces.

"Now," said Billy, "you have crews
to man your two ships. Unbind your
prisoners and take them home. You
shall have great glory when you return
home laden with gold and with this
troop of apes to do your bidding."

"But what," said the Mining Mari-
ner, "shall I do to reward you?"

"Nothing at all," said Billy; "nothing
at all. This is my adventure."

"But I wish to reward you," said the
Mining Mariner. "Will you not take
the half of my gold?"

"I could not," said Billy, "it would
• .' sink my ship. But if your heart is set

upon a reward, send a bag with a thou-
sand pieces of gold to my mother. She
gave me ten pieces when I set out on
my adventures ; it will be a fine thing to return
her so much more."

"A fine thing, indeed," said the Mining Ma-

" 'NONSENSE, SAID BILLY, 'YOU ARE NOT
AFRAID OF ME, ARE YOU?' "

riner, "and I will surely send her the gold." So
he wrote down in a book the name of Billy's
mother and her address, so that he could find her.

172

THE ADVENTURES OF BILLY BOWLINE

[Dec,

Then the Mining Mariner and his twenty apes
lqaded the gojd into the two ships and sailed
away.

When the two ships were quite out of sight,
Billy stood up and stretched himself.

"I have had a fine adventure," said he to him-

"It is a good thing," said Billy, "that my ship
is on the other side of this island. Otherwise the
waves I made would have swamped my boat and
drowned poor Peter."

Then Billy started back to find his ship. He
was so tall and his legs so long, that before he

"BILLY REACHED DOWN OVER THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF
AND CAUGHT ONE OF THE PIRATES."

self. "I have wished three wishes. I have ridden
the Rat and changed twenty Pirates into apes.
I have been small, and now I am a giant; and be-
fore I grow small again, I should like to feel my
strength. I will pull up a tree by the roots and
heave a boulder into the sea."

So Billy pulled up a tree and planted it upside
down. And he carried a great rock to the edge
of the Red Cliff's and threw it over into the sea.

knew it, he was within sight of his ship where it
lay at anchor. ''It is high time," said he to him-
self, "that I grew small. Peter will not know me
if I look like this."

So he took the stick from his belt and waved it
above his head. Before he knew it, he was no
taller than a toadstool.

"This will not do, either," said Billy, "I am too
small. I could not help Peter work the ship."

1912.]

THE ADVENTURES OF BILLY BOWLINE

173

Then he tapped on the ground, and he grew up
six feet at the first tap. Then he waved the stick
above his head, very carefully, till he was of

THE ENCHANTED PIRATES.

proper size. After this he found his ship and
went aboard.

"Shall we sail for home now?" said Billy to
Peter.

"Aye, aye, sir," said Peter; "but first let us eat
and drink."

So they took out of the bag all manner of good
things, and ate and drank their fill.

Then they set sail over the Very Wet Sea,
and sailed for sixty clays and sixty nights, over
blue water and preen, over rough seas and

smooth, through hurricanes and fair weather, till
they came to their native land.

Then Billy went ashore. He turned the ring
three times on his finger and said
aloud : "I wish that all things may
be as they were before I set out on
my adventure."

No sooner said than done. Billy
found himself a boy of proper size.
Peter dropped his arms to his side
and became a wooden sailor. The
bag and spurs and the stick disap-
peared ; only the wishing ring re-
mained of all the magic presents he
had received.

Then Billy picked up the ship and
stuck it under his arm, and went
home to his mother. When he
found her, she was counting the gold
pieces the Mining Mariner had sent
her.

"Did you have a fine adventure ?"
asked his mother.
"Fine," said Billy.
"How long have you been away?"
asked his mother.

"Not a year," said Billy; "there is
still time for more adventure before
the year is out."
"What have you under your arm?"
"My ship," said Billy, "and Peter, a very good
sailor."

"That is good," said his mother. "Where is the
chain I gave you ?"

"It paid for a fine adventure," said Billy. "I
will tell you of it some day.".

"I hope you will," said his mother ; "and what
is that on your finger?"

"A wishing ring," said Billy, "and I have
two wishes yet to be wished."

Nature and \cience

J edited rv ^X edwapd f nrr.ri

FOR
^/ EDWARD KBIGELOW

\&UNG

FIRE-MAKING IN THE OLDEN DAYS
As with the coming of the cold weather, we begin
to think of the comfort of the fireside, it will be
interesting' to let our minds p'o back to the fire-

THE ESKIMO FIRE-STICK WITH MOUTHPIECE AND THONG.

making methods that were used by the Indians
and the early settlers of our country.

A SIOUX INDIAN STARTING A FIRE
BY REVOLVING A VERTICAL STICK.

The North American Indian was inured to the
cold, and used fire mostly for cooking; but he
often had a little in his "tepee," or tent, to warm
it up a bit. The draft was regulated by opening
flaps at the top of the tepee. It was so much work
to make a fire that it was usually kept going all
the time.

Our heading this month shows some Sioux In-
dians who have just settled in a camp; one is
starting a fire to use under the big copper kettle
near by. These copper kettles were obtained from
the early traders, and nearly every tribe had one.

This Indian produces fire by revolving a ver-
tical stick, called a drill, in one of the holes of his
fire-stick, which rests upon the ground. About
this hole is a small quantity of '"tinder" made
of bark fibers and dried pith, or rotten wood,
which ignites readily, and is then used to set the
camp-fire alight.

The northern Indians, or Eskimos, produced
fire in much the same manner, except that they
used a mouthpiece to hold the upper part of the
stick. A little inset of bone was placed in the
mouthpiece where the stick came in contact with
it, to prevent wear, and also to keep the drill
from making fire at both ends. The drill was
revolved by a thong wound about it and attached
to a short bow. This was a great improvement.

174

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

175

After the Indians became acquainted with the
early settlers, they gave up their old fire-sticks
for the "strike-a-light" of the traders, which con-
sisted of a piece of flint, a piece of coarse file
or other rough iron, and some tinder. The
"strike-a-light" set shown in one of the illustra-
tions was taken from the Cheyenne Indians of
Arkansas. It consists of a tinder pouch of buck-
skin, containing dried bark fibers, a bit of flint,
a piece of coarse file, and the small end of a
horn which is filled with "punk" made from dried
pith. This horn was held in the fist, and the
spark was struck into it from the flint. This
outfit was very compact, and could be carried
about on the person. Another illustration shows
one of the early New England "tinder-boxes"
and outfit. Sparks were directed into this box
by striking the iron "flourish" against the flint,

used as a candlestick. We may imagine that the
big fires kindled by the settlers in the great
stone fireplaces of their one-room log-cabins,
were a great improvement on those made by the
Indians in their tents or lodges.

In later times, the back of an old kitchen knife
was often used against the flint to produce the
sparks, and another and more unusual method
was to fire a rifle into the stone fireplace, where
some tinder was gathered, the bullet striking
sparks that set up a fire. An emery-wheel re-
volving against a steel would produce many more
sparks than any of the above contrivances, but
the mechanical fixture needed to set it up was
more cumbersome and not readily carried about.

In those days, when it was so difficult to pro-
duce fire, it was the general custom to keep a
fire burning continuously. At night and other

THE OLD-TIME METHOD OF BUILDING A FIRE IN A LOG-CABIN.

and when the partly burned rags within became
ignited, the candle was lighted and the snuffer
used to put out the fire remaining in the box.
The candle was set on the box, which was then

times when the fire was not so much needed, it
was "banked" with a covering of ashes and cinders.
In this smoldering condition it would usually
remain for many hours ; but sometimes by neg-

176

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Dec,

lect or accident it would go out. In such a case,
it was a common custom among" the early set-
tlers to send some of the children with a pail to

A "STKIKE-A-LIGHT SET, FROM THE CHEYENNE
INDIANS OF ARKANSAS.
A, a piece of coarse file which struck against the flint, B, and pro-
duced a spark which was directed into the "punk" in the small hol-
low horn, C. D, buckskin pouch, about eight inches long, for holding
the supply of tinder. (The button on this pouch, and the iron file,
must have been acquired from the traders.)

EARLY NEW ENGLAND TINDER-BOXES.
A, iron flourish, or striker; B, flint; C, box containing the tinder;
D, cover with candle in position; E, snuffer.

"borrow" some live coals from a neighbor. Just
imagine taking a pail and going sometimes for a

mile or more to a neighbor's with the request,
"Please give me some fire."

All this disappeared, of course, when matches
came into use, and now even these little fire-
makers are no longer indispensable, for we may
ignite our gas-jets with an electric attachment,
or, if our houses are lighted by electricity, the
pressing of a button illuminates the room. So
we see that our forefathers spent much time in
doing some things which can now be done in an
instant ! Harry B. Bradford.

In the clays of the old flint-lock, tinder was
lighted by snapping the lock of the rifle, while a
little powder was put in the pan so that the flash
might readily ignite the tinder.

The placing of tinder around the hole in the
fire drill is not essential. What really ignites is
the wood dust ground off by the friction, and
from this the tinder is ignited. It is true that
tinder is sometimes placed beneath the hearth of
the fire drill so that the wood dust, as it is ground
off, accumulates on it in a little heap, but it is
the wood dust that first takes fire. Any boy or
girl can try the experiment with a simple bow-
drill, because fire can be made by any one with
three pieces of dry pine wood and a simple bow.

Many primitive people used some fungus for
tinder. In this locality, the variety known as the
puffball, gathered and dried, makes most excel-
lent tinder.

Primitive people had a method of making a
long slow "match" by twisting up a rope of cedar
bark or other material that would burn slowly.
In this way, fire might be carried for hours. The
American Indian frequently used a buffalo horn,
which was filled with tinder, lighted, and then
very tightly closed. Fire would keep in such a
horn for many hours.

In the days when the Sioux Indians had cop-
per kettles, they were also supplied with flint and
steel, the latter being one of the first things
traded to them, and one which they especially
prized. The making of fire by wood friction is
so much more laborious that no people would
ever use it if flint and steel were at hand. —
Clark Wissler, Ph.D., American Museum of
Natural History, New York City.

BOYS HANDLING BEES

The illustration on the next page shows some
boys from Greenwich visiting the Arcadia (Sound
Beach, Connecticut) apiary. These boys are on
a nature-study outing, and are taking their first
lesson in handling honey-bees. The picture shows
that they did this without the aid of protecting
gloves or veil. The ten frames of a hive were

1912.]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

177

THE EDITOR

JATURE AND SCIENCE DEMONSTRATING TO THE
BEES AT CERTAIN TIMES ARE EASILY HANDLED.

)YS THAT HONEY-

passed around, and the action of the bees care-
fully observed. This does not prove that bees
will not sting, nor that the boys were unusually
skilful in handling the bees. In certain condi-
tions, and at certain times that can be ascer-
tained only by an experienced beekeeper, bees
may be thus taken from the hive with but little
danger. At other times, to have attempted this
with the same hive would have been extremely
hazardous.

It hardly seems necessary to add that young
people should never attempt to handle bees in
this way except by the consent and under the
supervision of an expert.

A WONDERFUL NEW FAMILY OF FISHES

A remarkable fish, previously unknown, was
obtained on the Philippine expedition by the
United States Fisheries steamer Albatross, which
cruised around the island of Celebes, and made
dredgings at various places off the coast and in

It is only a little more than two inches in length,
but is of wonderful structure, especially in its
head, which is nearly as long as the remainder of
its body, while the length of the mouth is more
than half that of the head. The mouth is de-
scribed as cavernous and elastic, with "a trap
into which food is lured and despatched." In the
roof of the mouth is a bulb which shines through
a toothless space in the front of the upper jaw,
and attracts prey, which, having entered the
mouth, is prevented from escaping by two pairs
of large, hinged, hooked teeth.

Hugh M. Smith and Lewis Radcliffe, of the
United States Fisheries, have published a scien-
tific description of this wonderful fish with the
snare mouth, and have named it Thaumatichthys
(from thanma, a wonder, and ichtlms, a fish)
pagidostomus (from pagis, a
trap or snare, and stoma, a
mouth).

Therefore, this unusually
long scientific name for a very
small fish simply means, "a
wonder fish with a trap mouth."

THE REMARKABLE LITTLE FISH THAT IS ONLY ABOUT
TWO INCHES LONG.

the bays of that island. The fish is so unlike all
others that it has been assigned to a new family.
Vol. XL. -23.

AN UNDER AND AN UPPER VIEW OF THE SNARE MOUTH.

178

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

^"BECAUSE- WE
[WANT TO KNOW"

WHAT FIRE IS

Barrington, III.
Dear St. Nicholas : Will you please tell me what
" fire " is ? Lucile G. Robertson.

Fire, as we usually see it, is the action of air
upon hot substances that can burn. It is only
one ingredient or part of the air which does this,
the oxygen. Usually when things burn, there
are hot gases and vapors formed which make the
flame. Fire is not a substance, therefore, but an
action, or its appearance. Most things that can
burn in the air can do so only when heated very
hot, but since the burning of a part of the thing
produces much heat, a fire will often increase
and spread enormously. Three things are needed,
then, to make a fire : sufficient heat to start it, a
supply of the thing that will burn, and a supply
of air. Water puts out fire because it cools the
thing that is burning, or covers it up, and keeps
the air away. — Professor H. L. Wells, New
Haven, Connecticut.

the speed of birds in flight

Broadrun, Va.
Dear St. Nicholas : Will you please tell me which can
fly swiftest, the wild duck, the hawk, or the pigeon ? And
which bird can fly swifter than any other in the world ?
Yours very truly,

Cassius C. Dulany (age 12^).

Two observations with scientific instruments
give to migrating ducks a speed of forty-seven
and eight tenths, and to migrating geese a speed
of forty-four and three tenths, miles per hour.
Homing pigeons do not exceed forty to forty-
five miles an hour. Doubtless all three birds can
fly much more rapidly, but I know of no exact
observations which would tell us of the utmost
speed they have attained or might reach. — F. M.
Chapman, Curator of Birds, American Museum
of Natural History.

WHY A NASTURTIUM LEAF LOOKS SILVERY
UNDER WATER

Villa Fontanelle, P. Ovile, Siena, Italy.
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please tell me why, put-
ting a nasturtium leaf under the water, it looks as if it was
of silver ? Egi.E Bossi.

The nasturtium leaf is covered with a finely
distributed, waxy substance which will not per-
mit water to wet the leaf. Hence, when im-
mersed, the water cannot touch the leaf and drive
off the air surrounding it, and a thin layer of air
remains between the leaf and the water. It is

the reflection and refraction of light from this
layer of air that give the silvery appearance.
It has been supposed by some authorities that the
presence of this non-wettable layer has the ad-
vantage of preventing the raindrops which fall
on the leaf from remaining there, and thus block-
ing up the stomata, or breathing-pores. — W. F. G.

A VERY SMALL BEECH-TREE BEARING A NUT
{From one of our adult readers)

Chicago, III.
Dear St. Nicholas : While tramping in the woods in
northern New York State, I found the accompanying beech
twig, or sucker, with a single fruit on its tip. It was
growing about eight feet from the main trunk on the root
of a large tree, somewhat as shown in my rough sketch.

The root was exposed where the sucker grew. While
this may not be an unusual occurrence, I had never seen
such a growth on any other tree. The parent tree bore a
heavy crop of nuts, but the nut on the sucker was smaller
and less perfectly developed than those on the parent tree.

In order to make a perfect proof I should have cut a

A TINY BEECH GROWTH FROM A ROOT BEARING
NUT BURS.

small piece from the surface of the root to which the twig
was attached, but I did not think of doing so until too late.

This unusual growth may possibly be of interest to the
nature lovers who read the " Nature and Science " depart-
ment of St. Nicholas.

I have been a reader of St. Nicholas since its first
issue, in 1873, I believe, and to-day, when it comes to our
home, I read the nature department first. I am,
Very sincerely,

Orpheus M. Schantz.

This is, indeed, a remarkable example of a
small tree bearing fruit. It makes one think of
Luther Burbank's experiments with very small
chestnut-trees producing a large crop of full-
sized burs and nuts. — E. F. B.

HEADING FOR DECEMBER. BY HARRY

TILL, AGE 16. (HONOR MEMBER.)

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

The heart of good St. Nicholas is warmed with cheer and gratitude, this Christmas-
tide, in contemplating the work of the League members, as shown not only in this final
month of the year, but throughout the whole of 1912. Never, we think, have they
maintained quite so high an average of merit; and it is, as usual, a source of keen re-
gret to us that the space at our command forbids anything more than that general
commendation which has long since become a familiar story to all St. Nicholas read-
ers. The highwater mark, however, seems to have been reached in these December
offerings, both in text and picture; and therefore we should be lacking indeed in ap-
preciation, if we did not, at this beautiful close of a wonderful year, once more assure
the League girls and boys of our boundless pride in their efforts, and our earnest grat-
itude for their loyal interest and truly remarkable achievement. With the abiding and
ever-growing enthusiasm evinced by each and all, the coming year cannot fail to eclipse
even the record just completed.

In the January number, we expect to make a special announcement of a plan whereby
we can show further appreciation of the work of the League young folk — to all of
whom, meanwhile, we wish a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

A HEADING FOR DECEMBER. BY

MARGARET L. AYER, AGE 17.

PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 154

In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.

PROSE. Gold badges, Gwynne A. Abbott (age 12), Groton, Mass. ; Dorothy M. Hoogs (age 15), Honolulu, H. I.

Silver badges, Editha Lee (age 12), New York City; Audrey Smith (age 13), Milan, Italy; Helenka Adamowska

(age 11), Cambridge, Mass.; Sarah Malcolm Klebs (age 13), Lausanne, Switzerland.

VERSE. Gold badges, Frances Camp Duggar (age 17), Auburn, Ala. ; Janet Hepburn (age 16), Bloomington, Ind.

Silver badges, Lucile E. Fitch (age 16), New Orleans, La. ; Frances Swan Brown (age 14), York Harbor, Me. ;

Jean Dickinson (age 16), Brooklyn, N. Y. ; Elsie L. Richter (age 16), Fort Lee, N. J. ; Marjorie M. Carroll (age 15),

Brooklyn, N. Y.

DRAWINGS. Gold badge, Margaret Brate (age 15), Albany, N. Y.

Silver badges, Zelina Comegys (age 15), Rock Island, 111.; Helen F. Drain (age 15), Tacoma, Wash.; Louise

Graham (age 14), Seattle, Wash.

PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badge, Louise A. Wiggenhorn (age 15), Ashland, Neb.

Silver badges, G. A. Lintner (age 16), London, England; Gymaina Hudson (age 15), Denver, Col.

PUZZLE-MAKING. Gold badge, Phoebe Schreiber Lambe (age 17), Ottawa, Can.

Silver badges, Gladys Naramore (age 17), Everett, Mass. ; Louis Ruckgaber (age 11), Belmar, N. J.

PUZZLE ANSWERS. Gold badges, Emma Katherine Anderson (age 14), Marietta, Ga. ; Alpheus W. Smith

(age 14), Ithaca, N. Y.

Silver badges, Ruth Browne (age 12), St. Louis, Mo. ; Dorothy Talbot (age 13), Urbana, O. ; Helen A. Cohen (age

14), New York City; Catherine Gordon Ames (age 14), New York City.

BY CHARLOTTE H. MELCHER, AGE 14.

BY LEON M. PEARSALL, AGE 16.

"A GOOD LISTENER."
179

BY FRANCES STULL, AGE 14

180

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Dec,

THE BEST MONTHS OF ALL

BY FRANCES SWAN BROWN (AGE 14)

(Silver Badge)
Give me the rush of the winter world

In the teeming, slushy streets !
The throb of ceaseless activity,

Like a giant's great heart-beats.

"THE THING I LIKE TO DRAW BEST. BY ZELINA COMEGYS,

(SILVER BADGE.)

The frosty nights when the buildings stand,

Black ghosts, aloof and high,
With a hundred eyes of gleaming light —

Pin-points against the sky.

The rush of the wind that patrols the streets

Like some wild thing in its cage,
And the noise as it tears at the flying snow

Of the mighty war they wage.

And the winter months are the best of all,

For their motto is, "All cheer!"
And the heart of the city of steel and stone

Leaps up at the glad New-year !

CHRISTMAS IN POLAND

BY HELENKA ADAMOWSKA (AGE II)

(Silver Badge)
In Poland, the greatest holiday of the year is Christmas
eve, and it is a joyous day to all the children.

About a week before, we gather in the sitting-room,
and, seated before a merry fire, make different pretty
things.

That night, Father comes home with
packages full of colored paper, nuts, ap-
ples, and oranges.

In a second, we surround him, and each
takes some of these materials to make
baskets, chains, or to gild the nuts.

All this time, the parlor is closed, and,
as the days are Hearing, great excitement
reigns among us, while parents decorate
the tree and lay the presents around.

At last the great day arrives ; then
everybody is in a bustle : Mother directs '
the setting of the table, children fly around
to get ready, and the family gathers at twi-
I light.

We wait for the appearance of the first
5 star, and then walk into the dining-room.

The table is richly laid with candles and
I silver, looking unusually pretty.

Under the table-cloth we lay some hay,
in memory of Jesus being born in a

manger.
ge 15. &

After having partaken of a wafer blessed

in church, we begin supper, which consists

of soup, various fish courses, and dessert.

Finally, Father goes to light the candles on the tree,
the music starts a carol, and we march in.

We circle around the tree, singing the carol, after
which we unfold our presents.

Suddenly the door opens and some peasants enter,
bringing a little theater, like Punch and Judy, and make
the dolls, dressed in national costumes, act pretty
scenes, and sing national songs.

Before we know it it is ten o'clock, and our parents
send us off to bed.

We say good night, and, rather tired out by this ex-
citing day, we go to dreamland, to dream of the day and
to live over its pleasant scenes.

"WHAT 1 I.IKE BEST TO DRAW.
BY THOMPSON BLACKBURN, AGE 17.

' A GOOD LISTENER.

BY A1LEEN CARNEY, AGE 14.

BY GLADYS KILMER, AGE 12.

"ON THE RUAU.
BY MARION RAWSON, AGE 12.

191 2-1

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

181

LOUISE A. W1GGENH

(GOLD BADGE.)

BY G. A. LINTNER, AGE l6.
(SILVER BADGE.)

"ON THE ROAD."

GVMAINA HUDSON', AGE IS
(SILVER BADGE.)

THE TRUE CHRISTMAS

BY GWYNNE A. ABBOTT (AGE 12)

{Gold Badge)
I once heard a story about a little boy who wished that
Christmas was on every day in the year, so he could get
Christmas presents. Perhaps he thought that was the
only thing meant by Christmas, and perhaps children
and even grown-ups nowadays think so too. But are
presents the only Christmas things, and is it only be-
cause of them that it is honored as the happiest day in
the year? No. It is because Jesus was born that day.

How often that memory slips from our minds as we
open the precious parcels and look at their contents.
Children, even when you go to church, are you not
thinking more of your presents than of the hymns you
sing and of the lesson being read ? Yes, of course you
are. So the thought of the little thing which soon will
be forgotten stamps out the thought of the big thing
which always should be remembered.

Of course there is some of the true Christmas spirit in
the presents. This is shown by the love of those who
gave the gifts, and by the fact that St. Nicholas, the
Christmas saint, is a saint of gift-giving and generosity.
Children, let us remember this when we open our
parcels on Christmas morning. Let us be full of the
true Christmas spirit, love, peace, and contentment, on

that day, and on every day in the year. Let us carry it
like a lamp to dark places, and fill them with the light
of love.

Then indeed we shall prove the story of the little boy
in another way — by showing that love can be carried
r.bout every day in the year ; that is the true Christmas !

THE BEST MONTH OF ALL

BY DORIS F. H.ALMAN (AGE l6)

{Honor Member)
Life played before me, all in changing train :

New, sudden thoughts that set men wondering —

The budding of some little, living thing ;
The swift, glad throb of pleasure wrought with pain-
Gold-spotted sunbeams melting into rain ;

The over-birth of worlds at perfect spring,

All unattained, but ever promising —
Ideals that, fleeting, kindle but to wane.

All brightness growing beautiful to fade,
All purity that lights to be obscured,
All newness coming but to pass away —

Is surer beauty, but a while delayed,
* Is truer goodness for the stain endured,
Is resurrection — is an April day !

'A GOOD LISTENER. BY ANGELO A

IUACHADO, AGE IO.

182

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Dec,

CHRISTMAS IN ITALY

BY AUDREY SMITH (AGE 13)

(Silver Badge)
"Natale" is the Italian for Christmas, and means
"birthday." Most children who are born on Christmas
in Italy are called Natalino, if a boy, or Natalina, if a
girl. This name certainly would not suit an American
child. You would laugh to hear some one called
"Christmas Jones." Christmas eve is here known as
the "vigilia," which means vigil (to keep watch). The
Italians celebrate Christmas in a very different way
from us, and, as we would think, a very poor way. No
holly and evergreens about the house, and no Christmas
trees. The churches, too, have no such decorations, but
are draped in heavy red and gold silk. Plum-puddings
and mince-pies are not known, and the only famous
sweet is the "panettone," which is sent by thousands
from Milan (where it is a specialty) to the Argentine
Republic and North America, so that the Italian fam-
ilies there may enjoy some of their home Christmas
cheer. The torrone is a candy filled with hazel-nuts,
and is known and liked all over Italy. It is made at
Cremona, in Lombardy, and is n't it good ! It may sur-
prise you the way turkey is bought and sold, so that the
poorer people may have some on their table for Christ-
mas dinner. A turkey is cut into pieces, and sold by
weight, like meat. Italian children do not receive many
presents at Christmas ; they are given them on their
name-day, or saint-day, and their birthdays are scarcely
noticed. By this account you will understand that

Christmas is- much more merry for children in England
and America than in sunny Italy.

THE BEST MONTH OF ALL

BY JANET HEPBURN (AGE 1 6)

(Gold Badge)
How happy is the world when Springtime's sky

Is arched above, while softly budding trees
Uplift their precious promises on high,

And wave their priceless burdens in the breeze !

How beautiful the world when Summer's song
Is echoed back by rivers, lakes, and rills !

When nodding daisies grow 'mid grasses long,
And purple haze lies on the distant hills !

How glorious the world when scarlet leaves

Dance down at Autumn's touch to clothe the ground !

When goldenrod the summer's death retrieves,

And purple-clustered grapes the vines have crowned !

How wonderful the world when shining ice
And violet-shadowed snow enwrap the earth !

When blazing fires the weary heart entice,

And holly wreaths bespeak the Christmas mirth !

Each month, each season, has its jeweled days,

Each Winter, Springtide, Summer, and each Fall ;

I know not which deserves the highest praise,
For each one in its turn seems best of all.

BY HELEN EASTERWOOD, AGE 16.
BY RUTH ENGLIS, AGE 12.

1 ON THE ROAD."

BY ALICE GEOPFEION, AGE 13.
BY JUSTIN GRIESS, AGE 14.

1912.]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

183

BY MARY PEROT ZESINGER, AGE 17.
EY LANDIS BARTON, AGE 17.

BY HELEN B. SHEARER, AGE j6.
BY PAULINE PIFFARD, AGE 13.

'UN THE ROAD.;

THE BEST MONTH OF ALL

BY LUCILE E. FITCH (AGE 16)

{Silver Badge)
The season I love is the summer-time,

Vanishing far too soon.
And the best month of all in that summer-time,
Is one that has often been sung in rhyme,
That blooms every year in my southern clime —

The beautiful month of June.

The glories of Nature are flaming there,

In my land of the tropic moon,
Where a fragrance enticing, seductive, rare,
Pervading the soft, enchanted air,
Ascends from a kingdom of flowers fair,

That bloom in the month of June.

The shadows that flit o'er the shimmering stream,

That sleep in the long lagoon,
Are swept by the glint of a red sunbeam,
And fringed with fires that resplendent gleam
O'er the earth, enfolded in one fleet dream

Of the languid month of June.

And though there are many and beautiful things

That open from noon to noon,
As the year escapes on its changing wings,
And leaves a remembrance which each month brings,
There is none so sweet as the dream that clings

To the magic month of June.

THE "MALIHINI" CHRISTMAS TREE

BY DOROTHY M. HOOGS (AGE 1 5)

{Gold Badge)
Several years ago, a number of tourists who were
spending the winter months in Honolulu wanted to
celebrate Christmas in some way. They could hardly
realize that it was the wintry season, as the trees and
grass were green, and crowds of people were on the
beaches and swimming in the ocean every day ; and so
they thought of a novel idea : they would have a Christ-
mas tree out-of-doors, and invite all the children of the
city ! They procured a very large tree, and after having
set it up in a park in the center of the town, they deco-
rated it lavishly with pop-corn, tinsel, and all the other
ornaments that are used for the purpose. Cotton was
strewn freely over the branches to imitate snow, which
has never been seen by the little folks in Hawaii. The
' decorations complete, and everything in readiness,
the 'children were all notified of this wonderful tree
through the newspapers, and on Christmas morning,
thousands of little ones of all nationalities represented
in these islands made a picturesque sight, dressed in the
costumes of their parents' home country. They eagerly
watched Santa Claus as he untied the dolls and the
jump-ropes and jack-knives from the heavily laden
branches, and distributed them freely to every one. It
was evident by the happy little faces that the day was a
huge success, and ever since then this idea has been
carried out by the community, and is called the "Mali-
hini," or strangers' Christmas tree.

184

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Dec,

THE BEST MONTH OF ALL— APRIL

BY FRANCES CAMP DUGGAR (AGE I")

(Gold Badge)
In April conic the April showers,

And April breezes blow ;
The woods with April songs are gay,

And April flowers grow.

The may-pop with its fringe of blue,

The meadow daisies small,
The sweet shrub, and the violet,

All come at April's call.

"ON THE ROAD. BY ROBERT J. SMITH, AGE 13.

The great, wild pansies lift their heads,

The honeysuckles bloom ;
The yellow jasmine fills the air

With misty, sweet perfume.

The little phloxes nod their heads

In every passing breeze ;
The mountain-laurel bends and sways,

To the rustling of the trees.

The woods, the breeze, the April flowers,
The raindrops, and the rippling streams,

All fill our throats with April songs,
Our hearts with April dreams.

And underneath the April skies,

The birds all sing for joy.
Oh, April is a happy month

For Southern girl and boy !

DICKENS' "CHRISTMAS CAROL"

BY ELISABETH HAERLE (AGE 1 3)

(Honor Member)
This is a story which can never grow old. It
possesses, and ever will possess, the spirit of
youth, the joy of Christmas time, the beauty of
charity and love. It is a story one can never —
weary of ; each time one reads it, one finds it as
fresh and charming as the first time. It is a story
one should read at Yule-tide ; then its Christ-
mas spirit will flood the heart, and fill it with good-will.
How many hearts this story must have softened ; how
many souls it must have filled with warm, generous im-
pulses ! How many Christmases it must have made

happier ! Its atmosphere of love and joy is too real to
be resisted ; it draws the reader, heart, soul, and mind,
into it during the reading, and leaves a lasting memory
of sweetness afterward.

MY FIRST CHRISTMAS
(Told by a puppy)

BY SARAH MALCOLM KLEBS (AGE 1 3)

(Silver Badge)
I awoke one morning to find myself in a basket with
the lid shut down securely. It was stuffy ; my body
ached for want of stretching ; a sensation of fear came
over me as I listened to the odd noises around me.
What could this all mean ?

Soon the lid of my basket was cautiously opened. I
heard a voice cry, "Oh, goody, goody, it 's a puppy" ;
then a little hand reached down, picked me up, and
placed me on a table.

Being by nature curious, the first thing I did was to
gaze around me. The table on which I stood was in a
big room, and, strange enough, in one corner stood a
lovely tree, the like of which I had seen before outside
but not in a house. Five girls were watching me with
eager eyes, — why, I could not say.

After I had taken some milk which they very con-
siderately offered me, I underwent the trying ordeal of
having a red ribbon tied around my neck. I did not
like this a bit, and tried to interfere by pushing it away
with my paw. I was rebuked by a few exclamations :
"You naughty puppy ! What a rascal he is !"

The rest of the day I was spoiled and petted by my
young mistresses. When night came, I was laid in a
soft-cushioned basket, and told, "Go right to sleep, you
spoiled Christmas puppy." I lay awake trying to puzzle
out what they meant by calling me a "Christmas puppy."

r/MKtiy^

'A HEADING FOR DECEMBER. BY*MARGARET BRATE, AGE 15.

(GOLD BADGE.)

My conclusion was that probably there was a day
when puppies could be spoiled in every possible way,
and that it was this day that was called Christmas ; and
the next thing I knew it was morning.

I9I2.]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

185

THE BEST MONTH OF ALL

BY JEAN DICKINSON (AGE l6)

(Silver Badge)
The crisp, cold winds, the snowbound world,

The ring of skates, the sleigh-bells' chime,
The group around the cozy fire —

What months like those of Winter time !

The dull brown branch is veiled in green,
The sun is bright, and warm the rain ;

Now all the world receives new life —
The Spring — the Spring is here again !

'A HEADING FOR DECEMBER. BY LOUISE GRAHAM, AGE 14.

(SILVER BADGE.)

The swimming-pool, the fish-rilled stream,
The varied craft on waterways ;

The tennis, golf, and motoring —
Oh, happy, carefree Summer days !

The bright-hued flowers, the flaming trees,
The southbound birds' sweet parting call,

The going back to work again —

These are the pleasures of the Fall!

White Winter and the wakening Spring,
Both Fall and Summer flower-dressed,

The whole year full of happiness,
So, as it comes, each month is best !

A QUEER CHRISTMAS

BY EDITHA LEE (AGE 12)

(Silver Badge)
Can you picture Christmas celebrated like a midsummer
holiday?

In Connecticut, Christmas meant crisp, cold air, the
jingle of sleigh-bells, snow-drifts, holly, mistletoe, gen-
eral excitement, and shouting "Merry Christmas" out
of the fullness of our hearts. In contrast, here was I, in
Emali, only a tiny village on the Kongo, in Africa.
My father was hunting, and my mother and I, in this
hot, humid country, practically cut off from the rest of
our world, had planned to be cheerful and celebrate the
holiday as best we could. With this end in view, we
decided to have a picnic on the Kongo, and asked a
little Russian girl and her mother — for months the only
other whites in Emali — to go along. Considering that
neither of us knew much of the other's language, we got
on better than one would think. We would have had
quite an enjoyable float up the river, the guide telling
many things in Pigeon-English, were it not for the heat
and mosquitos. Dear ! If you consider the Long Island
or New Jersey mosquitos mosquitos, why simply row
up the Kongo !

About five miles up, we saw a beautiful spot, just
ideal for picnickers. There we disembarked and had
our luncheon, after which all almost simultaneously pro-
duced books and, resting comfortably, began to read.
Vol. XL. — 24.

But we were not to have peace long. Soon we heard
an awful rustling in near-by bushes, and on jumping up,
beheld, not forty feet away, a wild elephant !

How we scrambled for the boats, nearly throwing one
another into the water, and how we made off, can never
be told!

But we did,' and — well, was n't that a queer Christ-
mas?

THE BEST MONTH OF ALL

BY ELSIE L. RICHTER (AGE l6)

(Silver Badge)
Once more the reign of Northern cold is here.

To-day, from lowering, leaden skies, the snow
Is slowly drifting downward. Far and near
The landscape yields a shimmering silver glow,
Till daylight dies.

Soft shadows creep ; the gray of heav'n is rent,

And through the rifts the stars smile, while the moon,

From her high way, keeps watch till night is spent,
Till, in the east, a light breaks all too soon,
And darkness flies.

To-morrow dawns. A glistening waste of white
That 's blinding in its brilliance, greets the sun ;

The trees are crystalled in its dazzling light,
And shed a glory till the day is done.

Yet — 't is not Nature, though her splendor glows,

That places high December's cold and snow ;

'T is the great gift that from God's mercy rose- —

The Saviour, at whose coming, long ago,

The choir of angels made the heavens ring,

And bade the shepherds worship Christ, their king.

Hark, down the years their music rings again,
Soft telling, "Peace on earth, good-will to men."

WHAT I LIKE BEST TO DRAW. BY BENJAMIN H.

MARGETSON, AGE 13.

THE BEST MONTH OF ALL

BY EDWARD B. ANNABLE (AGE 9)

How nice it is to live in •

The month that gives us snow,

The month that we send presents
To every one we know.

December is the nicest month,

Especially for boys ;
They skate, and slide, and run around,

And make a lot of noise.

186

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Dec,

THE BEST MONTH OF ALL

BY BRUCE T. SIMONDS (AGE 17)

(Honor Member)
Sing carols, Christmas carols,

Of quaint old melody,
And let the days be filled with praise,

With mirth and jollity;
For we have passed from 'neath the pall

Of gloomy, black November,
Now rules the month that 's best of all,

The bluff old king, December !

So bring ye in the boar's head,

With bays and garlands crowned ;
The peacock vain, with gorgeous train ;

And send the wassail round.
With festive holly deck the wall,

The Christmas games remember;
And hail the month that 's best of all,

The bluff old king, December !

'WHAT I LIKE BEST TO DRAW." BY FRANCES KOEUING, AGE 1 7.

Then reign, thou Lord of Misrule,

With all thy merry band ;
And kiss below the mistletoe

The fairest in the land.
Till on the hearth the ashes fall,

The Yule log's dying ember,
Come, hail the month that 's best of all,

The bluff old king, December !

THE BEST MONTH OF ALL

BY HAZEL K. SAWYER (AGE 14)

July means Independence Day,

With its fireworks, flags, and fun ;
November means Thanksgiving,

Turkeys, pumpkin-pies well done ;
But better yet than summer's joys,

Or longed-for feasts of fall,
Is jolly old December,

The best month of all.

The Day of Independence

Celebrates a nation's birth ;
Thanksgiving teaches gratitude ;

We learn the Pilgrim's worth.
But Christmas, Jesus' birthday,

With its heartfelt, sacred call,
Comes amidst the storms of winter,

In the best month of all.

Human nature, worn by summer,

With its heated, jealous strife,
Cooled by autumn, thanks outpouring

For abundance, joy, and life,
Finds its highest aim in winter,

'Mid the snow-drifts wide and tall,
In the white peace of December, —

The best month of all.

THE BEST MONTH OF THE YEAR

BY MARJORIE M. CARROLL (AGE 15)

(Silver Badge)
Poets may sing of the beautiful spring,

Of June, and her glorious days.
When making a rhyme, my favorite time

Is Christmas ; I '11 tell why it pays.

Now first there is "holly," that rhymes well with "jolly."

For poets it really is fine !
There 's "ember," "December," and also "remember,"

Of appropriate words there 's a mine !

There 's "boys," and there 's "toys," and "Christmas-
tide joys,"

All pertaining to Christmas, you see.
I was glad when I saw the League subject this month,

It made it so easy for me.

I 've given the reason why poets are glad

When dear old December is here. \

For League rhymesters, with me, you will surely agree,

It 's the very best month of the year !

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

Ruth Gilbert
Beulah E. Amidon
Elizabeth H.
Armstrong
Sophie E. Woods
Janet G. Banks
Inis Hubbard
Susan B. Sturgis
Courtenay W. Halsey
D. Q. Palmer
Anna L. Lilienfeld
Elsie L. Lustig
Florence L. Smith
Florence M. Young
Mary D aboil
Camilla L. Schiavone
Nathaniel Dorfman
Marv Smith
Ethel T. Boas
Ethel W. Kidder
Dora Peters
Edith H. Walton
Fredrika W. Hertel
Norma Stebbins
Dorothy M. Rogers
Margaret M. Cloyd
Mary Eliz. Seager
Evelyn G. Pullen
Mary Nathan
Lillias Armour
Ruth E. Flinn
Eunice Graham
Dorothy Duggar
Elizabeth Doane
Gertrude Davis
Mary A. White
Miriam Devereux
Ruth Heiman
Vernie Peacock
Eleanor W. Bowker
Myrtle Doppmann
Gretchen von Phul
Ruth K„ Gaylord
Edith L. Weart
Grace D. Elder
Mary K. Fagan
Miriam F. Carpenter
Martha Latham
Kathleen Spooner

PROSE, 2

Andre P. Chambellan
Eleanor Birmingham

Irving J. Weiss
Susan Nevin
Lorna von P. Schrader
Elizabeth Walton
Rebecca H. Wilder
Margaret C. Bland
Elmer H. Van Fleet
Charles Samolar
Mary S. Rupert
Alison C. Laing
Mildred E. Roberts

Louis Schwartz
Edith L. Crounse
Ruth B. Brewster
Leonore Lemmler
Eugenia Rothrock
Eleanor W. Haasis
Edith Townsend
Marjorie Flanagan
Grace S. Pope
Katherine Newcombe
Betty Smith

St • IM icWLa £, LEAgue

-*JECf Mliev iqir

\ HEADING FOR DECEMBER. BY

HELEN F. DRAIN, AGE 15. (SILVER
BADGE.)

Esther Wilson
Margaret A. Halstead
Margaret E. Beakes
Anna C. Johnson
Doris Rowell
Harriet Arn
S. Virginia Donaldson

F. Marie Brown
Rosalie Louis
Roberta E. Taylor
Annie Bainbridge
Ralph B. Cooney
Hedwig Zorb
Estella Johnson

1912.]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

187

Mary G. Boyd
Clara Loitman
Mary Valentine
Sarah H. Williams
Albin Y. Thorp

VERSE, i

Helen B. Rivkin
{Catherine Allport
Miriam Abrams
Lucile Phillips
Helen Hunt Andrew
Joyce A. Cook
Marjorie G. Acker
Eleanor Johnson
John C. Farrar
Ada L. Mahool
Mary A. Porter
George M. Enos
Margaret Duggar
Elinor L. Gittelson
Emily Campbell
Marion Cleaveland
Arthur H. Nethercot
Josephine L. Livingood
Mary J. Smith
Constance Bowles
Mary C. Barnett
Bertha E. Walker
Winifred S. Stoner, Jr.
Anne Gordon
Alice Q. Rood
York Sampson
Elinor Everitt
Pauline P. Whittlesey
Edward Schulhof
Frances Struller
Mildred G. Wheeler
A. L. Packard
Renee Geoffrion
Ruth Morris
Muriel Morris
Georgene W. Davis
Jean P. Mumford
Lucy Mackay
Annette Meyer
Helen Varelman
Katharine W. Ball
Lloyd Dinkelspiel
Jean E. Freeman
Mattie Hibbert
Katharine V. Higley
Helen Palmer
Thomas H. Joyce
Irma A. Hill
Margaret Tildsley
Elizabeth Hendee
Betty Humphreys

VERSE, 2

Vera Mikol
Burford Johnson
Jeannette Johnson
Laura Keevil
Alan A. West
Vera Hastings
Kenneth Allen
Mildred E. Woodside
Sam Stein
Albertine Hopkins
Harry J. Sieghert
Hazel M. Chapman
John Perez
Casilda Clark
Lois M. Weill

DRAWINGS, i

Ethel F. Frank
Roberta Townsend
Dorothy E. Handsaker
Ethel Cargill
Margaret Elliott
Mary I. Farley
Birger Stenvall
Leslie Walthen
Clarence Lemm
Raymond T. Gleeson
Howard W. Schwarz
Jean E. Peacock
Eleanor Powell
Francis Bradford, Jr.
Mayabby Brenan

Emma W. Hansen
Edith Kahan
Ethel du P.

Barksdale, Jr.
S. Dorothy Bell
Genevieve Farner
Olive Miller
Robert Riggs
Lucile I. Means
Constance Wilcox
Tadjio Adamowski
Katharine C. Smith
Theodore Haupt
Mildred Holmes
Lillian Sternberg
Charlotte MacDougall
Gwendolyn

Frothingham
Lily Madan
Walter K. Frame
Arthur F. Lincoln
Clara S. Hefiey
Bozarte De Kalb
Frances B. Gardiner
Dorothy Hughes
Rodney B. Birch

DRAWINGS, 2

Jeannette Foster
Frances Mackenzie
Aileen Mackenzie
Adelaide Lovett
Nora Mohle
Elizabeth Martindale
Isabella B. Howland
Eleanor Gottheil
Harry R. McLenegan
Rita Jarvis
Irma L. McMahon
Dolores H. Ingres
Margaret M. Horn
Wilma Varelmann
Cynthia V. Starr
Harold C. Lewis
Ferris B. Briggs
Jessie E. Alison
Genevieve K. Hamlin
Marion Van Zandt
Margaret J. Schmidt
Hester Bedinger
Mary P. Reeves
Katharine H. Seligman
Mabel Patterson
Lilly Ruperti
John J. Governale
Jennie E. Everden
Julia E. Seldomridge
Marjorie T. Mackenzie
Pauline Brackett
Lois C. Myers
Evelyn Frost
Grace Griffin
Marion Cummings
Elizabeth C. Sypher
Helen Van W. Battle
Evangeline Clark
Caryl Peabody
Alice Schering
Doris Hunter
Dorothy L. Boardman
Nettie Leach
Ruth Browne
Juliet M. Bartlett
Welthea B. Thoday
Parker McAllister
Vida Grimble
Elizabeth A. Lay
Elizabeth Mahony
Betty Bradbury
Sheila Byrne
Ray Miterstein
Pauline Kerkow
Louis Halpern
Delma V. George
Virginia Gault
Harry Sutton, Jr.

PHOTOGRAPHS, i

Martha L. Clark
Carolyn Archbold
Matthew T. Mellon
Beatrice Quackenbush
Louise Down

Dorothy Tyson
Margaret Macdonald
Helen Prescott
Dorothy von Olker
Kenneth D. Smith
Patrina M. Colis
Andrew N. Adams
Frank Bennett
Dorothy G. Schwartz
Jane Coolidge
Amy F. Smith
Tom Wetmore
John S. O'Conor
Winthrop Case
Willard Vander Veer
James G. Simmons
Thomas E. Fry
Margaret E. Hoffman
Nancy Ambler
Harriet E. Arnold
Theodora Eldredge
Meredyth Neal
Alexander Scott
Ruth W. Brooks
Alexander Gcott
Mildred H. Graham
A. D. Harvey
Gladys E. Livermore
Eleanor Robertson
Henderson Barton
Helen E. Hayden
Priscilla Fraker
Beatrice G. Tarver
Marie Border
Marian Saunders
Helene M. Roesch
Esther Harrington

PHOTOGRAPHS, 2

Irene Derickson
Mary F. Packard
Catherine H. Stickney
Ruth Coggins
Dorothy Peters
Elsie Stuart
Anna C. Crane
Charlotte M. Turk
Elizabeth L. Merz
Dorris Miller
Isabel D. Shelpman
Henry B. Ritcher
Beatrix B. Newport
Ruth V. A. Spicer
Elizabeth Phillips
Carroll B. Barbour
Vivian E. Hall
Ellis Moreau
Katharine Southmayd
Paul M. Segal
Eric H. McCall
Mary R. Stark
Charles Bartow
Elberta Esty
Marion Bird
Eva Goldbech
Jessiejo Eckford
Dorothy E. Bayles
Hester B. Curtis ■
Laura Hales
Helen M. Lancaster
Marion Harbord
Elizabeth Russell
Edith Bachman
Cornelia V. B. Kimball
William S. Biddle
Dorothy Peabody
Margaret Shoemaker
Edwin H. Thomas
Carol E. Truax
Howard Sherman
Millicent H. Lewis
Willard Vander Veer
Ruth Pennybacker
Augusta Hoehmann
Margaret E. Langdon
Catherine Lloyd
Margaret Benney
Theodore Dunham, Jr.

PUZZLES, 1

James Stanisewsky
Juliet W. Thompson
Helen A. Ross

Edith P. Stickney
Paul Buttenweiser
Marjorie K. Gibbons
Eleanor Hussey
Katharine K.

Spencer
Margaret Warburton
Eleanor K. Newell
Virginia Bliss
Gertrude Lachman

Louise Cramer
William Waller
Ruth Hays
Dorothy Colville
Lulu Columbin
Margaret Billingham
Hannah M. Ruley
Helen L. Bolles
Frederick M.
Davenport, Jr.

Henry Greenbaum
Philip Franklin
Warren W. Pierson
Elbert L. Marvin
Joanna Connelly
Eben J. White
Josephine J.

Tuckerman
Mildred Turner
Henry J. Brown

PRIZE COMPETITION No. 158

Competition No. 158 will close December 10 (for for-
eign members December 15). Prize announcements will be
made and the selected contributions published in St.
Nicholas for April.

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, "Daybreak," or, "The Dawn."

Prose. Essay or -story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, " The Story of the Gate."

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "My Rest Photograph."

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, " A Bit of Life," or a Heading for April.

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

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.

A CHRISTMAS EVE ADVENTURE

John and Rose were sitting before the fire look-
ing very disconsolate indeed ; and this was surely
a pity, for it was Christmas eve, when every child
should be particularly happy and excited. A
fine, snowy eve, too, with the clouds just breaking
in the west, to show a large, red sun through the
branches of the trees— in summer, their leaves
were so thick, he used to disappear when he got
behind them, but now he sent a ruddy path across
the new-fallen snow, right through the window
and into the room.

The fire leaped and played over the big logs in
the fireplace in the j oiliest way imaginable, chuck-
ling and whispering to itself, while the wood
snapped cheerily in reply. Everything indoors
and out was clearly in the best of spirits and
ready for holiday fun.

But little Rose's blue eyes had been slowly fill-
ing with tears, and suddenly she let her head fall
on her brother's shoulder, and burst right out
crying. They were snuggled up together in the
big, red arm-chair that was just big enough for
them both.

John patted her back encouragingly. "There,
there, Sis," he whispered; "this is n't the only
Christmas we '11 ever have." But the whisper
was a little shaky.

"It 's this Christmas," wailed the little girl.
"Other Christmases don't seem to matter. They
are n't real yet !"

"I know," returned John, cuddling her to him.
She stopped crying, except for an occasional
sniff, and both children watched the fire at its
busy playing.

"I suppose the fire does n't know we can't have
any Christmas," Rose said presently. "See how
it jumps and laughs. Mama said it had been such
a hard year, we ought to be thankful we had a
fire and a roof and enough to eat. She said lots
and lots of little children did n't have; but I
thought every one had Christmas. Did n't you?"
"No, I knew that they did n't. But then we
were kinder used to Christmas.'

188

"Yes," agreed Rose, sadly. "But Papa said
everything went wrong this year, an' that 's why
we can't have any Christmas."

The sun had gone while the children were talk-
ing, and except for the fitful light of the fire, the
room was dark. Many, many shadows were
crowding into it, getting ready for all the work
of the night.

Suddenly Rose pointed to the mantelpiece.
"Why— what 's that?" she exclaimed.

"What?" said her brother, looking where she
pointed. And then they both said "Oh I" very
softly and slowly.

For there, sitting on the edge of the mantel-
piece, right beside the clock, was an unmistakable
fairy.

"Don't be frightened, children," she said, in a
silvery voice like the tinkle of a breaking icicle,
as soon as she saw they had discovered her.
"I 've been wondering when you 'd notice me."

And here the little figure, not one bit bigger
than Rose's tiny kitten, Snowflake, jumped off the
mantelpiece straight to the arm of the big chair.
And "Oh !" said John and Rose again, at the very
same instant.

The fairy smiled at them. She was dressed in
white fur that shone and twinkled like the snow
when the sun shines on it. And on her floating,
golden curls was set what looked like a tiny
crown of icicles. Her cheeks were a lovely pink,
and her face the sweetest and merriest conceiv-
able. And when she spoke, her voice was like
the clear ringing of skates on ice, except for a
ripple of laughter that ran through it all the
time.

"I 'm the Christmas fairy," she said, smiling.
"When Santa Claus cannot come, I take his place
as well as I can ; so I 've come to you this year."
"We never heard of you," said John, gravely,
looking at her with the deepest admiration.
"What do you do ?"

"I don't take things to children, like my big
friend and his reindeer; but I take children to
things— to other places, and times, and people.

BOOKS AND READING

189

I bring them to Christmas, you see, instead of
bringing Christmas to them."

"Can you bring us to Christmas?" asked both
the children.

"That 's what I 'm here for ! And the sooner
we 're off, the more we '11 have. We will find
some of your old friends, and see what sort of a
time they are having."

She took hold of Rose's right hand as she
spoke, and of John's left one. "Shut your eyes,"
she said.

They shut them tight. Instantly they were
conscious of a sort of breathless feeling, as
though they had been running uphill very fast.
Then they felt a little shake, and the fairy loosed
their hands.

"Here we are !" she exclaimed.

They opened their eyes, and gazed around in
astonishment.

Before them stretched a vast blue sea, spread
beneath a sky as blue as itself. A warm, per-
fumed air surrounded them, and the wind rustled
through the leaves of a big palm under which
they stood. At one side a cave opened into a
cliff; and seated before this cave, at a roughly
made table, were two men. One of them, though
tanned very dark, was a white man, for he had a
blond beard and curling, long hair. He was curi-
ously dressed in skins that had been made into a
coat and trousers. The other man was very
black, with white, flashing teeth and shiny eyes.
Between them, on the ground, lay a dog, and a
parrot climbed about a pole that stood near.
Tethered in a patch of grass was a nanny-goat.
On the table was a fine dinner, with smoking
dishes and heaps of lovely fruit.

"It 's Robinson Crusoe and man Friday," cried
John, with a gasp.

Robinson Crusoe looked up when John spoke, and
immediately beckoned the children to come near.

"This is a great treat," he said. "These are
two little friends of mine," he went on, turning
to Friday. "I think we met last Christmas in a
big blue book, did n't we ?" he asked John. "Well,
sit right down — you, too, dear Christmas fairy.
Many a jolly little party you 've brought me, and
it does make such a pleasant break in the mon-
otony.

He had a deep, gruff voice, but the kindest
manner. The children felt thoroughly at home
at once, and sat down to the feast. Presently
every one was laughing and chattering, and eat-
ing away at a great rate. Friday played tricks
with the parrot and the dog, and Crusoe showed
them his clock, and all the clever arrangements
in his cave, one after another, and seemed to have
as pleasant a time as the three visitors.

"This makes a real Christmas of it for me,"
he kept saying. "You know, I 'm often mighty
glad Santa Claus does n't get round to all you
children— it 's such a treat to have some of you
run in on me this way."

"Well, you are going to be rescued pretty
soon, you know," said Rose, eagerly, feeling sorry
for poor Robinson Crusoe in his loneliness.

But just then the fairy caught the children's
hands again :

"Must n't tell the end of the story," she whis-
pered. "Shut your eyes; we must be off."

Instantly the breathless feeling returned. And
in a moment the little shock. When John and
Rose opened their eyes this time, however, it was
upon a very different scene.

They were in a square, comfortable room,
which was charmingly decorated with wreaths
and festoons of evergreen and holly. In the cen-
ter was a Christmas tree, brilliantly lighted with
candles and all hung over with shining orna-
ments, glowing fruit, and packages done up in
colored paper. Several smiling grown-up people
in quaint, old-fashioned clothes" stood near the
tree, and round it danced a circle of laughing
children. As soon as they saw John and Rose
and the fairy, they seized their hands too, and off
every one went, laughing and shouting, round
and round.

At length they stopped, quite tired out. And
then the packages and the fruit were taken from
the tree, and divided among the children, Rose
and John getting theirs with the rest. Such ex-
citement ! They had gilded gingerbread figures,
and red apples, and Rose had a doll, and John a
shining pair of skates.

Suddenly Rose whispered to her brother : "Oh,
Johnnie, listen ! the tree is talking !"

So it was. Its branches were moving a little,
and rustling, and the rustling made words.

"I suppose now it will begin all over again,"
the tree murmured happily. 'They will put on
lovely fresh candles and new packages and glit-
tering stars. What a wonderful life, and what a
happy little fir-tree I am !"

"Why," Rose whispered once more, "it is the
little fir-tree in the Hans Andersen book for
which we always felt so sorry."

And so it was !

"What a pity it must be disappointed !" ex-
claimed John. And there was the fairy at once.

" 'Sh ! 'sh !" she said. "Come, give me your
hands."

And at once they grew breathless again, and
felt once more the little shock.

This time they opened their eyes to find them-
selves in another room, small and rather dark.

190

BOOKS AND READING

But there was a big window at one end, before
which stood two children, a boy and girl about as
old as John and Rose. And through the window
you could see clear into another house, where
there was another tree, as fine as the one they
had just left. Many children played around it,
and ate cakes and laughed.

"Oh, come and look !" cried the two children
at the window, as soon as they saw Rose and
John. "Is n't it wonderful ! is n't it beautiful !"
And then they, too, began to dance.

Just then, the door opened, and in came a
queer, little, old lady, looking rather like a funny
old witch.

"It 's the Bluebird," whispered John and Rose,
greatly excited. "Oh, see, see !"

For, sure enough, the little old woman, who
had been talking all this while, suddenly waved
her stick — and then all sorts of wonderful things
began to happen.

Out of the clock came the wonderful Hours,
misty and radiant, and began their lovely dance.
And there were the Dog and the Cat, talking
away, and Bread, and Milk, and Light, most won-
derful of all. John and Rose were so delighted
they could n't even speak. But they clutched
tight hold of each other and of the fairy, who
was twinkling and smiling at a great rate.

Wilder got the dance, till every one was at it,
round and round, and in and out. The Dog

barked as well as talked, and the Cat got quite
angry, and complained to Rose, who stroked him.
Bread and Milk chased each other, and every one
laughed — my, what a noise !

Suddenly it all began to grow dim ; but the
laughter and the talk grew louder than ever, and
so did the barking— so loud that—

There were John and Rose, sitting close to-
gether in the big arm-chair !

And the door into the hall was being opened,
and outside a prodigious racket was going on !
Towzer was barking his head off, and Papa and
Mama were laughing and exclaiming.

"Children, children, wake up ! Here is your
Uncle Jack, straight from fairyland, I do believe,"
their mother was saying. "And Santa Claus
never brought any more Christmas than he has
with him."

Through the door came Papa, and Mama, and
Towzer, and a big man in a fur coat with quan-
tities of parcels. John and Rose gave one loud
shout of joy, and jumped straight at him. It
really was their Uncle Jack, who had gone away
to the West, and whom they had n't seen for ages !

"Why, Rose, it 's just as though we were in a
story ourselves," said Jack, when things had
quieted down a bit ; "but where 's the Christmas
fairy?"

Somehow, she had slipped away, and, so far,
they have never seen her again.

THE CHRISTMAS MOUSIE

BY IDA KENNISTON

Do you know what the Christmas Mousie said,
Before he went to his trundle-bed?

He said : "Mr. Santa Claus, if you please,
Put in my stocking some Christmas cheese !"

THE RIDDLE-BOX

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER

Squares Connected by Diamonds. I. i. S. 2. Apt. 3. Aware

4. Spaniel. 5. Trill. 6. Eel. 7. L. II. 1. Salam. 2. Anile. 3
Licit. 4. Aline. 5. Metes. III. 1. T. 2. Bab. 3. Bolus. 4. Talaria

5. Burin. 6. Sin. 7. A. IV. 1. Eblis. 2. Bride. 3. Limit. 4.

Idiot. 5. Set-to
Needy. 6. Dry.
Roman. 5. Eland.
5. Piece. 6. Ate

4. Cotes. 5. Amass.

5. Early. 6. Ray. 7

V. 1.

7. A.

T.
VI.

VII.
7. A.
IX.
L.

1. T.

VIII.
1. A.

Pen. 3.

Scare. 2
. Tap.
Abaca
. Ape.

Posed. 4. Tessera,
. Carol. 3. Aroma

3. Tafia.
2. Broom

3. Attar.

Taffeta.

3. Aorta
4. Apteral

Thanksgiving Pi.

Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead,
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbits' tread.

Illustrated Diagonal. La Salle.
2. Padlock. 3. Mastiff. 4. Parasol.
Bivalve.

Illustrated Primal Acrostic. Princeton. Cross-words:
2. Racket. 3. Ink. 4. Nail. 5. Cane. 6. Eye. 7. Toad.
9. Nest.

Cross-words : 1. Lobster.
5. Scallop. 6. Corolla. 7.

1. Pen.
8. Oar.

Double Zigzag. William E. Gladstone. Napoleon Bonaparte.
Cross-words: 1. Wane. 2. Pisa. 3. Lips. 4. Also. 5. Isle. 6.
Save. 7. Moor. 8. Lean. 9. Gabs. 10. Alto. n. Arno. 12. Edna.
13. Saps. 14. Etna. 15. Oars. 16. Gnat. 17. Even.

Numerical Enigma.

Breathes there a man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said,
" This is my own, my native land " ?

Quintuple Beheadings and Curtailings. Francis Marion.
Cross-words: 1. Uncom-for-table. 2. Encou-rag-ement. 3. Cryst-
all-oidal. 4. Misma-nag-ement. 5. North-Car-olina. 6. Scint-ill-
ation. 7. Imper-son-ation. 8. Arith-met-ician. 9. Quadr-age-simal.
10. Typog-rap-hical. 11. Dilap-ida-tions.
Inter-nat-ional.

Additions. Charles Dickens. Cross-words:
her. 3. Ant-hem. 4. Rot-ten. 5. Lay-men.
son. 8. Drain-age. 9. Inn-ate. 10. Car-pet.
End-ear. 13. Not-ice. 14. Sun-set.

Concealed Square Word. i. Forum. 2. Opine. 3. Rigid.
Unite. 5. Medes.

Reimp-ort-ation. 13.

Cat-nip. 2. Hit-
6. Ear-thy. 7. Sea-
Kid-nap. 12.

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 September Number were received before September 10 from Catherine Gordon Ames —
" Queenscourt " — Katharine C. Barnett — Ruth Kathxyn Gaylord — Louise Cramer — Frank Black — Dorothy Talbot — Alice Chase McCurdy —
Emma Katherine Anderson — Helen A. Cohen — Margaret Warburton — Alpheus W. Smith — Julia F. Brice — Ruth Browne.

Answers to Puzzles in the September Number were received before September 10 from Constance M. Pritchett, 9 — Harmon B., James
O., and Glen T. Vedder, q — Harold Kirby, Jr., 9 — R. Kenneth Everson, 9 — Barbara Kimball, 9 — Albert Gerry Blodgett, 9 — Mitchell V.
Charnley, Jr., 9 — Angeline H. Loveland, 9 — Waldemar Rieck, 9 — Flora Hottes, 9 — Guyton S. Eddy, 9 — Zulime Summers, 9 — Henry Seligsohn, 9
— Mary O'Connor, 9 — Helen G. Robb, 9 — Sidney Carleton, 9 — Jessie L. Colville, 9 — Helen A. Moulton, 9 — Eva Garson, 9 — Lachlan M.
Cattanach, 9 — Marion L. Hussey, 9 — Alfred Hand, 3d, 9 — Lothrop Bartlett, 9 — George L. Howe, 9 — George S. Cattanach, 9 — George L.
Yeakel, 9— Judith Ames Marsland, 9 — Elizabeth A. Lay, 9 — Dorothy Berrall, 8 — Janet Fine, 8 — Jean O. Coulter, 8 — Katharine H. Pease, 8 —
Gertrude Van Home, 8 — "Dixie Slope," 8 — Mildred Gutwillig, 8 — Katherine Howk, 8 — Eleanor Manning, 8 — Nettie Piper, 8 — Leona M.
Fassett, 8 — Donis Davidson and Dorothy Dorsett, 8 — Emily Abbott, 8 — Courtenay W. Halsey, 8 — Katharine Drury, 8 — Emily L. Loman, 7 —
Elizabeth G. Moulton, 7 — Jeannette Hecht, 7 — Katherine Molter, 7 — Pierie W. Laurens, 7 — Constance G. Cameron, 7 — Janet Brouse, 7 —
Ruth Tiffany, 7 — Eleanor W. Parker, 7 — Daniel B. Benscoter, 7 — Daniel G. Wood, Jr., 7— Edward C. Heymann, 6 — Catharine M. Weaver, 6 —
Dorothy Hubbell, 6 -Ruth Champion, 6 — Myrtle O. Volkhardt, 6— George C. Lewis, 6— Harrison W. Gill, 5 — Margaret L. Bull, 5— Abby C.
Gallup, 5 — Harold Moneypenny, 5 — Harry R. Swanson, 5 — Adele Mowton, 4 — Florence Lowden, 4 — William A. Randall, 4 — Arthur R. Titus, 3 —
Helen M. Rice, 3 — Madeleine Marshall, 3 — Ruth Dorchester, 3 — Charles H. Smith, Jr., 3 — Beatrice Whyte, 2 — Margaret P. Rice, 2 — Ruth D.
Chase, 2 — Helen Marshall, 2.

Answers to one Puzzle were received from E. V. S.— H. B.— D. N. P.— M. S.— S. R. R — B. H. P.— I. B.
V. M. T.— F. A. F.— R. H.— M. G— A. N.— H. B— R. B.— B. W.— M. W. R.— C. O.— D. H.

-M. B.— M. B. H.— V. H.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)

My whole consists of forty-three letters, and forms a
quotation from Robert Louis Stevenson.

My 42-29.- 1 0-16-2 2-3 2 is a flower. My 21-14-27-36-
7-39 is a dairy product. My 24-2-3-20-1 5-8-1 7 is com-
pletely. My 26-1 8-35-3 1-1 9 are articles of jewelry.
My 9-5-4-1 is an animal. My 33-43-38-23-28 is open,
uncultivated land. My 40-25-34-1 1 is to gather. My
6-41-30-12 is a trailing plant. My 37-13 is a preposi-
tion.

GLADYS NARAMORE (age 1 7).

GEOGRAPHICAL ZIGZAG

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)

All the places described have the same number of let-
ters. When rightly guessed and written one below an-

other, the zigzag, beginning at the upper left-hand
corner, will spell the name of a State.

Cross-words: i. A city of Washington. 2. A city of
British East Africa. 3. A country of South America.
4. A noted peak of the Sierra Nevadas. 5. The largest
city of Kansu, China. 6. A country of Africa. 7. A city
of Sicily. 8. A city of northern Africa. 9. An island
off the coast of China. 10. A Danish colony. 11. A
western State. 12. A Canadian province. 13. The
capital of a southern State.

LOUIS RUCKGABER (age II).

IMAX PUZZLE

Across a clock face draw two straight lines from side
to side that shall divide it into three parts, so that the
numbers contained in each of the parts shall, when added
together, amount to twenty-six.

Abraham shapiro (age 12), League Member.

191

192

THE RIDDLE-BOX

ILLUSTRATED NOVEL ACROSTIC

When the pictured words are correctly guessed and
written one below another, two of the rows of letters,
reading downward, will spell the names of two char-
acters in a story that is often read at this season.

PYRAMID OE SQUARES AND DIAMONDS

***....

* *

*****00*

* *

* * 0 0 0

0***0000

* *

* 0 0 0 0

0 * 0 0 0 0

0 0 0 0

O • • -0000

• 0 0 0 o • • • •

I. Upper Square (six letters) : I. To value. 2. The-

4. Whole, s. A ridge of

i. In rend. 2. Aye. 3. At

5. In rend. Right-hand
Angry. 3. Swift. 4. To

atrical. 3. A kind of dog.
mountains. 6. Shriek.

II. Left-hand Diamond
no time. 4. To* call upon.
Diamond: i. In rend. 2.
perish. 5. In rend.

III. Four-letter Squares: Left-hand: i. So be it.
2. A little animal. 3. A feminine name. 4. Not distant.
Middle: i. The part behind. 2. A masculine name. 3.
A body of armed men. 4. Lines of light. Right-hand:

1. To let fall. 2. Fury. 3. A side glance. 4. To peep.

IV. Lower Squares (from left to right) : I. 1. An
Asiatic country. 2. Another place. 3. A pin on which
anything turns. 4. Higher. 5. Used in gunpowder.
II. 1. To allude. 2. To eat away. 3. Central point. 4.
To extract. 5. To set again. III. 1. Wet, low ground.

2. A necessary fluid. 3. To expiate. 4. Repairs. 5. To
squeeze. IV. 1. A kind of riddle. 2. That which hap-
pens. 3. To speak of falsely. 4. To join. 5. Precipitous.

Isidore helfand (age 14), Honor Member.

HIDDEN BIRDS

One bird is concealed in each couplet. When rightly
guessed and written one below another, the zigzag
through the first and second columns will spell the name
of another bird.

Within a flower Roy thought he heard a buzz ;
Ardently then he wondered what it was.

If he had not been sent to fetch the cow,
Bird-hunting he 'd have started, I '11 allow.

But fast upon him came an angry bull :
Battle or flight — he sees his hands are full.

Just then he spies young Farmer William's wall ;
O what if he can reach that refuge tall !

Ho ! at zinc-colored wall behold him fly !

And soon the high stone goal he stood close by.

Before the frightened lad could reach the top,
In tail-raised chase the bull came with a pop !

Then high into the air poor Roy was sent:
An age rolled round ere to the earth he went.

Down with a thump he tumbled from his bed ;
Fred, Polly, both had buzzed the bell, they said.
Margaret e. whittemore (age 14), Honor Member.

PWWHEEL PUZZLE

(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)

*****

*****
*****

■Jfi % ^; + %

I. Central Square: i. To lay out. 2. A kind of bear.
3. A girl's name. 4. Parts of the hand. 5. To clothe.

II. Upper, Right-hand Rhombus: Across: i. Se-
rious. 2. Rescued. 3. A light cavalry soldier. 4. Gen-
eral. 5. To lay out. Down (beginning at the left) :
1. In shadow. 2. Aloft. 3. Utility. 4. To avoid. 5.
Often served at dinner. 6. Egg-shaped. 7. A moun-
tain peak (Scotch). 8. A boy's nickname. 9. In certain.

III. Lower, Right-hand Rhombus: Across: i. In
shadow. 2. Two letters from wrath. 3. Nightfall. 4. De-
mand. 5. A pagan prophetess. 6. Learning. 7. To gain.

8. A boy's nickname. 9. In shadow. Down : 1. To
clothe. 2. To profit. 3. Part of the arm. 4. The nest
of a bird of prey. 5. Loans.

IV. Upper, Left-hand Rhombus: Across: i. In
certain. 2. An exclamation. 3. Skill. 4. A slave. 5.
Begins a voyage. 6. To hinder. 7. Before. 8. One.

9. In shadow. Down: i. Rank. 2. Surfaces. 3. Hack-
neyed. 4. The goddess of flowers. 5. To lay out.

V. Lower, Left-hand Rhombus: Across: i. To
clothe. 2. A pile of stones. 3. Taste. 4. Custom. 5.
An appointed meeting. Down : 1. In certain. 2. Two
letters from wrath. 3. To speak. 4. Hackney car-
riages. 5. A projecting arm on a ship used for hoisting.
6. Tumult. 7. To mistake. 8. Two letters from sand.
9. In shadow.

PHOEBE SCHREIBER LAMBE (age 1 7).

THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Oh, goodie ! It 's Peter's and I can eat all I want of it

Peter's slips into Christmas stockings as if made for them. Its
delicious flavor, its absolute purity and wholesomeness make
Peter's the ideal Christmas candy.

PETER'S MILK CHOCOLATE

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Oh,

what joy to
get skates like these!

Strong, bright, sharp, handsome! You can

get just the model you want — for hockey,

racing, sailing, figure work or plain skating —

lever, clamp, strap or screw-on styles. All

made in the world's greatest skate factory —

standard for over 50 years.

Christmas will soon be here! Write for our new cata-
logue No. 6, containing rules of leading Hockey Asso-
ciations. Winslow's Skates are sold everywhere.

THE SAMUEL WINSLOW SKATE MFG. CO.

Factory and Main Offices : Worcester, Mass., U. S. A.
Sales Rooms : New York, 84 Chambers St.
Pacific Coast Sales Agency: Phil. B. Bekeart Co., San Francisco.

Stocks to be found at LONDON, 8 Long
Lane E C : FAEIS, 64 Avenue de la
Grande Armee; BERLIN; SYDNEY and
BRISBANE, Australia; DUNEDIN, AUCK-
LAND and WELLINGTON, New Zealand.

m.-

Makers of
IVinslow 's
Roller Skates

Kto&

T^E BEST ICE ANpROLLER SKAIES

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

"I'm Not Much of a Cook, Hubby,"

" but here's what I did with Jell-O. Could any coo\ make anything finer than that, and
won't that hit the spot?"

Of course no cook could make anything finer. The "beauty of it" is that women
who cannot cook can make as good desserts as the besl cook, for

doesn't have to be cooked. The young housekeeper who must
prepare the meals herself and uses Jell-O, is saved much experiment-
ing at the expense of her husband's digestion and good nature.

She is always sure of a good dessert for him anyway.

In purity and wholesomeness Jell-O is as near perfection as
science and skill can make it, and nothing else so surely hits the spot
in the appetite that is pleading to be hit.

There are seven Jell-O flavors: Strawberry, Raspberry,
Lemon, Orange, Cherry, Peach, Chocolate.

1 0 cents each at any grocer's.

If you will write and ask us for it we will send
you the splendid recipe book, "DESSERTS OF
THE WORLD," illustrated in ten colors and gold.

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 isn't there, it isn't Jell-O.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

jfranklin Simon a Go,

FIFTH AVENUE, 37th and 38th Streets, NEW YORK
Useful Holiday Gifts at Special Prices

No. 50 — Boys' Raincoats of best black rubber
(guaranteed waterproof); 4 to 16 years 1.95

No. 50B — Boys' Rubber Sou'wester Hats in tan or black. . 95

No. 52 — Boys' All- Wool Sweaters of hand-finished
worsted, in navy, oxford, tan, cardinal, or white;
sizes, 26 to 36 chest 2.85

No. 54 — Girls' and Boys'
Angora Wool Sets, gray,
white, tan, or red; 2 to 10
years :

Sweater 2.85

Leggins 2.85

Toque 95

Mittens 45

No. 56 — Rubber Boots, "Good-
year's " best quality, black rubber.

Sizes 8 to io>£ 2.50

Sizes u to 2 2.95

No. 56A — Same style with heels;
sizes 3 to 6. . .' 3.95

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

As small as your note book and
tells the story better.

The

Vest Pocket

KODAK

A miniature Kodak, so capable that it will convince the experienced
amateur, so simple that it will appeal to the novice. So flat and smooth
and small that it will go readily into a vest pocket, yes, and dainty enough
for milady's hand bag.

And the Vest Pocket Kodak is efficient. It is small, almost tiny, but the carefully selected
meniscus achromatic lens insures good work ; the Kodak Ball Bearing shutter with iris diaphragm
stops and Auto-time Scale give it a scope and range not found except in the highest grade cam-
eras. Loads in daylight with Kodak film cartridges for eight exposures. Having a fixed focus it
is always ready for quick work. Has reversible brilliant finder. Made of metal with lustrous black
finish. Right in every detail of design and construction. Pictures, \% x 2^ inches. Price $6.00.

An important feature is that the quality of the work is so fine, the definition of the lens so
perfect that enlargements may be easily made to any reasonable size, and at small cost — to post
card size (3^ x 5^) for instance, at 15 cents.

EASTMAN KODAK CO., ROCHESTER, N. Y., The Kodak City.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

service.

The ditiind-cars are tinder-
management of Fred Harvey.

En route you cart. visif flie
Grand Canyon of Arizona.

On request will send our booklets giving
full details of a delightful journey through
the Southwest Land of Enchantment
to winterless California.where you can
motor and play golf under sunny skies.
W.J.Black.Pass.TrafficMBr.A-T^S-F'Ry.System
1072 Railway Exchange , Chicago.

Exclusively for first-class travel -Hie year 'round

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

EEPEATE

A Christmas Suggestion y:.

Give Your Boy a Rifle this Christmas

You'll give him a big lift toward
manhood when you hand him this
wonderful modern repeater. It
will take him out to Nature — to
grow alert, clear-eyed, self-reliant.

The /?e/n//igto/>.-l/A/C 22 Repeater

is the boys' ideal rifle — one that will give him years
of use — one that he will be always proud to own.
The Remington-UMC 22 Repeater is rifled, sighted
and tested by the most expert gunsmiths in
the world .

Breech block, firing pin and extractor come out
in one piece — permitting the barrel to be
cleaned from the breech. It is hammer-
less and its improved safety-device
makes accidental discharge impossible.
It is as desirable a gift to any live
man, too, as it is to any live boy.

Ask your dealer to show it to you.
The price is very moderate.

To The Boy Himself

Show this advertisement to your
father. Ask him to read every
word of it. Tell him the Remington-
UMC 22 Repeater is the gift YOU
want for Christmas.

REMINGTON ARMS-
UNION METALLIC CARTRIDGE CO.

299 Broadway . New York City

The Remington Cubs
decorate for Xmas

Special at Xmas time — a repro-
duction pigskin gun case like
the illustration with every Rifle.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Murray

6an6g 6oate6
Sftctouia 0um

in flavor, but

Strong

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

AND

LanmAn^

Florida $
Water '*

With those who know, Murray
& Lanman's Florida Water finds
a hearty welcome. Its use is al-
ways a source of extreme person-
al satisfaction. For the bath, a
rub down, or after shaving, it has
been a favonte for over a hundred
years.

Leading Druggists sell it.
Accept no Substitute !

Sample sent on receipt
of six cenb in stamps

LANMAN & KEMP

135 Water Street, New York

Christmas Favors

Christmas Stockings filled with Toys, 5c. , 10c. , 25c. , 50c. , $ 1. 00 each.
Crepe Paper Holly Basket, 10c, Midget size for Salted Nuts, 90c. dozen.
Santa Claus Figures, 5c, 10c, 25c, 50c each. Holly Sprays, 10c, 25c., 50c dozen.
Holly Vines, 36 inches, 10c. each. Mistletoe Sprays, 5c

Tinsel Garlands, 12 yards for 25c. Tree Candle holders, 15c. dozen.

Christmas Snow, 5c box. Patent Wax Tree Candles, 25c. per box.

Silver Rain, 5c, package. Cotton Snowball Box, 10c. Table Trees, 5c, 10c,

25c each. Red Paper Folding Bell, 5c Paper Folding Christmas

Garlands, 10c
Red Flannel Stockings, Holly Trimmed, to put presents in, 10 inches, 25c
Paper Poinsettia on stem, 5c. Red Sled Box with Holly, 10c.

Red Christmas Bell (box), Holly Trimming, 25c Snowman Case, 25c

Holly Flapjacks, containingfavor,l5c Santa Claus Ice-Cream Cases, 60c dozen.
Miniature Crepe Paper Stockings or Bells, containing favor, 5c each.
Christmas Snapping Mottoe, 25c, 50c, $1.00 per box of one dozen.
Christmas Paper Napkins, 35c package. Holly Jack Horner Pie, 12

Ribbons, $4.00.
Christmas Seals, 5c package. Christmas Tags, 10c. package.

Christmas Tally or Dinner Cards, 25c dozen.

Unbreakable Tinsel Flowers, 30c box. Assorted Tinsel Ornaments, 50c dozen.
Assorted Celluloid Swinging Bird Card-holders, including Card, 10c. each.

We make up $2.00, $5.00, and $10.00 Assort-
ments of Christmas Tree or Table Favors.

We positively do not pay mail charges

Favors for Parties, Dinners, Cotillions, Weddings, Engagements, andfor every
conceivable occasion. We make a specialty of this business and are the
largest house in the world devoted exclusively to Favors.

A 200-page illustrated catalog has just been issued and
on request will be sent to you free of all charges.

B. Shackxnan & Co., Dept. 14, 812 Broadway, New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

A HOME GAME

ROOK is the best and most absorbing game
for boys and girls. Get it for Christmas.

You can't imagine the charm and interest of ROOK
until you play it, — 'til you get a taste of its excite-
ment, amusement, cleverness, luck, skill! ROOK
is played with beautifully made, enameled cards,
the sets being distinguished by COLOR from each
other.

The new game NEWPORT
played with ROOK Cards is ab-
solutely fascinating. Besides
ROOK and NEWPORT are also
rules for Tuxedo, Panjandrum,
and other games.

Price SO cents at STORES,
or by mail direct from us.

PARKER BROTHERS, Box A, Salem, Mass.

Sole makers of the famous Parker Games, including ROOK,
PIT, PLAZA, Ping Pong, Pillow Dex, and Pastime Pic-
ture Puzzles, etc. Catalogue for 2c. stamp.

BREAKFAST

The ideal morning beverage for young
people — will build up body and brain tis-
sues to their permanent benefit and the
exuberance of youth is ever manifested.

At All Leading Grocers

Fifth Avenue at 35th Street
CHOCOLATES. BONBONS, FRENCH BONBONNIERES

Afternoon tea served in the
Luncheon Restaurant, three to six

il»l

The Charm of
Colonial Silverware

The quaintness and simplic-
ity of olden times find expres-
sion in our " Old Colony "
pattern. Added to these
qualities is the finish that
results from present day skill
and methods. The design
possesses individuality in a
marked degree without re-
sorting to over-ornamentation
or sacrificing its purity of
outline. Like all

1847 ROGERS BROS.

, "Silver Plate that Wears"

it is made in the heaviest
grade of silver plate and is
backed by the largest makers
with an unqualified guaran-
tee which an actual test of
65 years makes possible.

Most Popular for Gifts
The unvarying quality and
richness of design make
1847 ROGERS BROS, silver-
ware especially favored for
gifts. Buy early while
yourdealerhasafull line.

Sold by leading dealers.
Send for illustrated cata-
logue "Z - 5 ."

INTERNATIONAL SILVER CO.

" Successor to Meridcn
Britannia Co.

MERIDEN, CONN.

New York Chicago

San Francisco Hamilton, Canada"-

_~J

St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. 132.

Time to hand in answers is up December 10. Prize-winners announced in February number.

\ ymzitD smkx

For some time the Judges have been quite
pleased with themselves. They have suc-
ceeded in keeping that troublesome boy,

Alexander the Little, from getting any of
his work into the magazine.

But now he has made up a puzzle of a

(See also pages 48 and 56.)

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

One way — a good way — to make little folks practice

Addressed particularly to mothers who find
it hard to make their boys and girls practice

YOU want your children to learn to play.
That was one reason you bought your
piano. It will be worth a great deal to them
later to learn to play now.

But to learn, they must practice hours and
hours. Practicing is hard work. And yours
is the hardest part — getting them to practice.

Does your boy hate to practice when the
other boys are going fishing or skating or any-
thing' more interesting than finger exercises?

Does your little girl have to be coaxed all
the way to the piano stool? or scolded? Does
she watch the clock and stop on the dot?

We know of one small boy who found a
way to make the piano stool squeak — and he
squeaked it regularly to relieve his pent-up

feelings. That shows how much music was in
his soul — those days. He's sorry now.

Have you ever made music so attractive to
your children that they wanted to learn ?

They don't know what music is — they
only know what practicing is.

What your boys and girls need is music.
Music so good that they want to learn to play.
Just such music as the Pianola-Piano would
bring into your home

You need a genuine PIANOLA Player-
piano to fill your home with such good music
that the boys and girls will learn to love music
and to want it. Yes, you all need a Pianola-
Piano — bat especially your children who are
learning to play.

Be sure it is a genuine PIANOLA Player-
piano — not just a player-piano. "Pianola"
does not mean player-piano. It is the name
of one particular player-piano.

There is a vast difference as you will readily
understand when you hear the genuine
PIANOLA Player-piano.

The Metrostyle and the Themodist are two
exclusive features of the genuine PIANOLA
Player-piano. Since it is these which make
the real music, you can see how important
they are if you want the little folks to hear
the right Mud of music and to learn the right
way to play.

Even an inexpensive genuine PIANOLA

Player-piano — some cost as little as $550 —

gives you these things that the very highest

priced among other player-pianos cannot.

We suggest that you read " The Pianolist" by
Gustave Kobbe — on sale at all book stores — or if
you will write us we will send it with our compli-
ments. Address Department "D"

THE AEOLIAN COMPANY

Aeolian Hall New York

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE.

new kind, and he says that you will all like
it. So we have put it in this number to
see whether it is good for anything.

Alexander explains that on the board
near Santa Claus there are the names of
sixteen advertised articles that you all will
know about, all advertised in November
St. Nicholas. But you will see that
these names are only partly there. All
the vowels are left out and are hung
below, where you can use them whenever
needed to spell out the names.

"But how," we asked him, "do you
spell out the names ? Give us an exam-
ple."

"Like this," he said. "They all begin
in the top row. You must take a letter
in that row, and then can move to any
square that touches on the square you be-
gin with and is in the second row ; then
to a touching square in the third row
down, and so on."

"Spell one out for us," we suggested.

"Well," said Alexander, "take 'Ivory
Soap.' Without the vowels, it is VRY
SP. Begin at the V near the end of the
top line, move to R in the next line, then
to Y in the third line, then to S and P,
and you have it."

"Well, mark those letters in the draw-
ing, and we think our puzzlers will get the
idea. But it seems hardly fair to begin
with a vowel. That is very puzzling."

"All the rest begin with consonants,"
Alexander explained, " and I will mark
the Ivory Soap letters." So he did, as
you will see by looking at the diagram.
Remember that you are to find fifteen
names without counting Ivory Soap.

When found, put the fifteen in alpha-
betical order, number them, and you will
have the answer to the puzzle. Alexan-
der said he called the picture the " Puzzled

(See also page

Saint" because he meant to write a little
story telling how a boy left this list for
Santa Claus to read.

" And why did n't you ? " we asked him.

" Too lazy ! " said Alexander the Little,
and then he lounged away. .

That's what makes him so provoking !!

So, instead, we are going to ask you to
write a letter to St. NICHOLAS, mention-
ing one or two articles you would like for
Christmas that ought to be advertised in
this magazine, giving a good reason why
they should be advertised here. In case
lists are equally meritorious, the letter will
determine the rank of the paper.

Here is the list of prizes, and the con-
ditions :

One First Prize, $5.00 to the sender of the
correct list of articles and the most convincing
letter.

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 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 list
give name, age, address, and the number of this
competition (132).

3. Submit answers by December 10, 191 2.
Do not use a pencil. 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. 132, St. Nicholas League, Union
Square, New York.

s 46 and 56.)

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS'

Every Boy Should Have a Bicycle

No Christmas gift could be more fitting than a Racycle, built to last a
lifetime. Racycles preeminently are the world's best bicycles. Give
your children 365 days of unalloyed joy and exercise in the open, and
they will grow to be useful men and women in the world's affairs.
Dr. Eliot, [Secretary Adee, King George, Consul-General Thackera,
and many other famous men find the bicycle indispensable to their well-
being. A Racycle is the cheapest gift you can buy, because every
Racycle is guaranteed for five years. Ordinary bicycles are guaranteed
for one year only, or not at all. Write to-day for 1913 catalogue.

MIAMI CYCLE AND MFG. CO.
36 Grand Ave. Middletown, Ohio, U.S.A.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Dutch Cocoas are the finest in the world.

BENSDORP'S

is the Best of

Dutch
Cocoas

Sample on
request

Use('A

only VJ$/ much

makes because
of its

Double
Strength

Always in Yellow Wrapper

STEPHEN L. BARTLETT CO., IMPORTERS, BOSTON

Ask Santa Claus to bring you
one of our attractive novelties

ThcNcwThcatrc

CThis miniature theatre is some-
thing new. Size 20x30 inches.
Has four scenes, back-drops, wings.drop-
curtain, etc. There are characters also.
This toy is simply delightful for the
young folks. Very compactly put up.
Price $2.50 at all dealers, or for sale by

THE NEW TOY THEATRE CO.
Pittsburg, Pa.

Gift for Xmas Stockings

Every Boy or Girl who eats

Meateffd

(and most of you do, for it is as staple as the
Hard, Plump and Sweet Winter Wheat from which
it is made) will want one of the

Attractive Hand-made 25 cent Colored
Jig-saw Puzzles of Wheatenaville
The Wheatena Company has arranged with the famous Brother
Cushman of 15 Corners, Montelair, IV. J., who makes these
and other good things, to furnish them to users of Wheatena.

In every package of Wheatena will be found a slip
which explains fully how they may be obtained.

Buy a package to-day at any good grocer's. If you can't, write us.
The Wheatena Company, Wheatenaville, Rahway, N. J.

EGYPT ITALY THE mediterranean

— ROUND THE WORLD

via San Francisco, Australia, Ceylon, etc.

$CAA 1ST CABIN — 2ND CABIN dJ -» ^ C
O W STOP OVERS ^» <* ■ **

SYDNEY SHORT LINE

The pleasant and comfortable route Summer or Winter. 19DAYS,
San Francisco to Sydney, via HONOLULU and SAMOA. Splendid twin-
screw (10,000 ton) steamers "SIERRA," '• SONOMA" and "VENTURA.''

$110 HONOLULU (??bubmtdcI5£) SYDNEY $300

Sailings every two weeks: Dec. 3, 17, 31, Jan. 14, 28, etc.

Write or wire NOW for berths. Send for folder.

OCEANIC STEAMSHIP CO., 673 Market St, San Francitco

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

spite --v,;;:^iii

i<i£$

BOYS AND GIRLS love to model
with Harbutt's Plasticine. Every
child likes to make things. The
mud pie days are followed by others
of the same kind, but more fruitful.
Plasticine affords endless delight to
boys and girls of all ages as it allows
opportunity to use their own ingenuity.
Plasticine modelling develops their ar-
tistic sense and accuracy of observa-
tion. It encourages the use of both
hands and trains the fingers in dex-
terous movements.

HARBUTT'S PLASTICINE

solves the problem of home modelling. It requires no water and is not
mussy, like clay. It always remains plastic and ready for instant use. It is
inexpensive, as it can be used over and over again. Various sized outfits
with complete instructions for modelling, designing, house building.

Sold by Toy, Stationery and Art Dealers every*

where. If yonr dealer cannot »opply yon, write S"f ■» MAKERS OF "t

for free booklet and list of dealers near yon. I ' -,' m m «\ y^>VV

THE EMBOSSING COMPANY •liYX^c +L ~V l^>PvCl>

58 Liberty Street, Albany, N. Y.

2KslK£dTea-ci

MENNEN'S

"FOR MINE"

Mennen'sf^iPowder

keeps my skin in healthy condition

Sample Box for 4c stamp
For ISc in stamps we will mail yoa
prepaid our beautiful 1913 calendar

GERHARD MENNEN CO.

Newark, N. J.

Trade Mark

RUBBER BUTTON

Hose Supporter

Will stand
hard wear

IN STORES EVERYWHERE.

Child's sample pair, postpaid,

16 cents (give age).

It gives satisfaction — doesn't tear the
stockings — doesn't hamper the child
— and wears longest.
GEORGE FROST Co., Makers, Boston

Also makers of the famous Boston Garter for men.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

\Camphoi^ Ice

Soothes and Protects
the Skin

Relieves Windburn
and Sunburn

Insist on VASELINE Camphor
Ice "whenever you want to relieve
chapped hands and lips, fever
blisters, or any similar irritation
of the skin.

The "Vaseline" has soothing,
emollient properties peculiar to
itself.

" Outdoor" men and women in
particular find Vaseline Camphor
Ice a comfort. It saves the skin
from the unpleasant effects of
wind and cold.

Put up in metal boxes and tin tubes;
druggists and department stores every-
where. Remember that the only gen-
uine Vaseline Camphor Ice is made by

Chesebrough Mfg. Co.

(Consolidated)

16 'j State Street
New York

Branch Offices :
London - Montreal

Booklet all about
" Vaseline " on re-
quest.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Growing Feet

need support
and protection

Shoes for boys and girls should be
more than foot coverings. Growing
feet should be trained, supported, and
protected. Preventing foot troubles is
safer than risking them.

The Coward Good Sense Shoe
with Coward Extension Heel is made
to help growing feet. A thoroughly
comfortable shoe, scientifically con-
structed to support ankle muscles
and arch ligaments without employ-
ing rigid metal plates or clumsy
braces. Children like to wear this
Coward Shoe. It makes them sure-
footed.

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)

o o ooo6ooq6oo4#|

To Watch
Arms

O 0 0 c

• ~~-*-i o

of shining
steel reach out
from braced and
bolted towers until they"
meet and you put the
last bolt in place and
look upon the finished
bridge —

Boys, that 's a
pleasure even men
enjoy.

With an outfit of

MECCANO

mostly of plated steel and
brass, you can build many
working models of wonder-
ful gigantic structures.

Send for Illustrated Catalog

andlist of principal dealers in your
section. You can build steel towers,
derricks, cranes, and other ma-
chines. LooA: for name Meccano.
Meccano is sold by leading toy
and sporting goods stores. Ask
your storekeeperto show you a set.

The Embossing Co., fi2£ft%

Makers of

Toys that Teach"

o 'O o o o

o o o- 0 .

gasaa&=s^^

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE

OUR ILLUSTRATIONS

IN July, 1909, the Siamese government transferred
to Great Britain five provinces. Of these five
provinces, two — Kelantan and Trengganu — have al-
ready sent us a set of postage-stamps. We now have
a third set from the province of Kedah. The set, as
is usual with smaller countries, comprises a full list

1ST. LUCIA |J

1 h^-jSShskv

nil

of values. They are bi-col-
ored, and present a very at-
tractive appearance. They
will certainly prove an orna-
ment to one's collection. All
values from one cent to eight
cents show a shack of unripe
rice, in black, with a border
of various colors. The values
from ten to fifty cents are larger, and represent a
native plowing with a pair of oxen, the central de-
sign being either blue or black, with a colored
frame. The higher (dollar) values have a picture of
the Council Chamber where the treaty regulating the
transfer to Great Britain was signed.

The third cut represents the new type of British
Colonials now appearing, the distinctive feature
being the profile of King George V.

A NOVELTY IN U. S.

PERHAPS no series of stamps is more popular
with the young collector than the large-sized,
brightly colored, postal-packet series of Belgium.
Now the United States is to follow suit. Under
Act of Congress, there will become operative on
January 1, 1913, a parcel-post system here at home.
And we are to have an entirely new series of stamps
for use in prepaying packages sent by this method.
The new law provides for a parcel service both in
city and country. The minimum charge is to be five
cents for all packages of one pound or less. Heavier
packages are charged one cent for each additional
pound (or fraction) up to eleven pounds, which is
the limit of weight. This rate is for only a limited
(or local) distance. For greater distances higher
rates are charged. There are to be six zones of dis-
tances running from fifty miles to two thousand
miles, the rates being from six cents to twelve cents
for the first pound.

The new stamps are being rapidly prepared by the
Post-office Department. There will probably be
twelve values in the series : one cent, two cents,
three cents, four cents, five cents, ten cents, fifteen
cents, twenty cents, twenty-five cents, fifty cents, and
one dollar. The rates charged for various weights
will make very interesting combinations of stamps

C-^/>vv^vvx/vx/y>yvv^'^>^c<^c/>5C/^v>i<>oc<sc/ic>: ^yyyyyrsysK^oyco^:

upon the various packets. Rumor says that these
new stamps will be entirely distinct, both as to size
and color, from the series now in use on letters.
There will probably be at least three types or series,
one showing various methods of transportation, an-
other showing postal officials at work, and a third
showing agriculture, manufacture, and other sources
from which parcels are received for transport.

The stamps are to be distributed among the va-
rious post-offices in December, and put on sale Janu-
ary 1.

NEW ISSUES

THE arrival of the long-expected stamps with the
head of King George again brings to the front
that never-to-be-decided question, what to collect.
This crops up continually. The controversy between
used and unused occasionally gives way to its brother
question of nineteenth- or twentieth-century stamps,
with now and then a few blows exchanged between
those who favor general or specialized collecting.
The only real answer is to beg the question and say,
"Collect those stamps from which you get the great-
est pleasure." But now and then we come across a
reader — mayhap with a bit of canny Scotch blood —
who wants to know what kind of a collection pays
best. To such the answer is : a collection of new
issues, as complete as your purse can make it.

On the appearance of the head of Edward upon
the stamps of Britain and her colonies, not a few
collectors specialized in these, getting them unused
and as complete as possible. These wise ones now
point to the high prices of their treasures with joy
and conviction, and they one and all are starting the
same plan with the George head. The new issues
can be bought for only a small percentage over face.
Experience has taught us that many of them soon
rise enormously in value. Savings-bank interest is
as nothing to the profits to be had in these new
issues. But there is no royal road to this ; one must
watch the chronicle of new issues, and keep after
each stamp until he gets a specimen. Only by trying
to keep his collection complete can he be sure of
securing those stamps which may eventually become
rare.

A collection of British Colonies to and including
a shilling value would not require much outlay,
would almost always prove profitable if consistently
followed for a period of a few years, and would
afford a lot of pleasure from the chase as well.

ANSWERS TO QUERIES

tf]T"\T7'E do not know who receives the largest
Jt VV personal mail ; it is, however, generally
presumed that it is the Pope. The Emperor of Ger-
many is said to average over 7000 letters daily, and
the President of the United States about 5000.
<][ The writer once saw a package of bonds about to
be shipped from New York to some banking house
in Germany on which there were postage-stamps
totaling over $37. It is said that a package was
once sent from Russia to Austria on which the
postage totaled over $900. This, if true, is prob-
ably the record price. But it seems as if the pack-
age could have been sent more cheaply by messenger.

SSSSSSSSSSSS&VVSSVVi^^

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY

TWENTIETH CENTURY ALBUM

(NEW) contains spaces for all stamps issued since
January 1, 1901. Prices from $2.25 up — post free.

NEW DIME SETS — Price 10c. per set :
25 Austria 25 France 20 India 30 Sweden
10 Bulgaria 20 Japan 25 Spain 10 Turkey

139 different dime sets, also Packets, Sets, Albums, and Supplies

in our 84-page Illustrated Price-list. Send for it to-day — free —

and get sample copy of Monthly Stamp Paper.
Finest approval selections at 50% commission. Agents ivanted.

Scott Stamp & Coin Co., 127 Madison Avenue, New York

The New England Stamp Monthly

SERIAL NOW RUNNING

Commemorative Stamps of the World

Illustrated, 12c. per year. Vol. II begins Nov. 20th.
Subscribe now.
New Series approval sheets 50%. Apply now and get first pick.
Stamp Tongs, 35c. a pair.

NEW ENGLAND STAMP CO.
43 Washington Building Boston, Mass.

STAMP ALBUM with 538 genuine stamps, incl. Rhodesia,

O Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania (landscape),
Jamaica (waterfalls), etc., only 10c. 100 dif. Japan,
India, N. Zld., etc., 5c. Agents wanted 50%. Big Bar-
gain list, coupons, etc., all Free! We Buy Stamps.
C. E. Hussman StampCo., Dept. I, St. Louis, Mo.

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 StampCo., 249 No. Carondelet St., Los Angeles, Cal.

RARflAINS EACH SET 5 CENTS.

t»/AIVVJAVllliJ 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 100 VARIETIES FORERUN, FREE. Postage 2c
Mention St. Nicholas. Quaker Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio

RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
^SSjs. with Catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents. If possible send
ySjj^Kjft names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special
[■( Jm] offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
WkJffll llc-'.40 Japan, 5c; 100 ('. S.,20c.; 10 Paraguay, 7c; 17
WrS?/ Mexico, 10c.;20 Turkey, 7c; 10 Persia, 7c; 3 Sudan, 5c;
^-^S^ 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;7 Malay, 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

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. / buy
stamps. L. B. Dover, D-6, St. Louis, Mo.

1000 Different sjAMPS.au.o, $30 for $1 80

500 diff. $ AS Haiti, 1904 Complete 6 Var. $ .15

300 " .20 Abyssinia, '95 7 .45

200 " .09 Mozambique, '92 " 9 " .50

20" Colombia .07 N. F'ndl'd, 1890 & '98 " 15 " .30
10 " Bosnia .05 Nyassa Giraffes, '01 " 13 " .25

9 " Prussia .10 Rumania Jubilee, '06 " 11 " .55

Gold California %\, each 35c; $i, each 65c; 25 diff. Foreign
Coins, 25c; Roman (Caesar) silver, 45c Big List Free.

J. F. Negreen, 8 East 23d Street, New York City.

CM A DC 200 ALL DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS

01l/\rO for only 10c 65 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., 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- I
ico, Natal, Java, etc., and Album, 10c 1000 Finely
Mixed, 20c 65 different U. S., 25c. 1000 hinges, 5c 1
Agents wanted, 50 per cent. List Free. I buy stamps.

C. Stegman, 5941 Cote Brilliante Av., St. Louis, Mo.

DANDY PACKET STAMPS free for name, address 2 collec-
tors, 2c. postage. Send to-day. U.T.K. Stamp Co., Utica, N. Y.

STA MPS 105 China, Egypt,etc,stamp dictionary and list 3000 faa
bargains 2c. Agts., 50%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. Ss

! ! FREE TO BEGINNERS ! !

An old stamp of Peru, worth 30c to any one sending for our
splendid approval selections at 50% discount.

New Chile lc, 2c, 5c, 10c, 15c 5c.

New Mexico lc, 2c, 5c, 10c, 20c 6c.

1911 Honduras Large picture stamps lc, 2c, 5c, 6c, 10c. ..10c.
International Stamp Co., 1 Ann Street, New York

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

QTAIV/IPC. Packet of 200, Album, Hinges, and List, all
»-» * fliyirj. for 8c 1000 mixed stamps, 15c. 50% to agents.
Payn Stamp Co., 138 No. Wellington St., Los Angeles, Cal.

STAMPS. 100 Foreign, 3c; 33 U. S., 5c.

E. E. Moody Stamp Co., Forest Ave., Cranford, N. J.

Austria Jubilee Set, Catalog, 38c. A fine set, rpcr

1 heller to 2 kr., 15 values r 1X1111

Packet of all different foreign stamps. These stamps rp p|7

from all parts of world r IyHH

Packet of 50 all different U. S. stamps, including CDUC

revenues, but no post-cards * IVEjEj

A leaflet describing and illustrating those United CDC" 17

States envelops, 1853-1900 riVCC

Your Choice of the above premiums if you
send 10c for 10 weeks' trial subscription to
Mykeel s Stamp Weekly, Kast Building, Boston, Mass.
You cannot afford to collect stamps without a stamp paper and
Mykeel's is the oldest, largest, and best in the world. Full of
news, pictures, and bargains. Special department for beginners.

CLASS PINS

JAPANESE WATER FLOWERS

Wonderfully interesting to all. Unfold at once in water.

3 packages 10 cents. 3 attractive boxes (24 to box) 25c. Very fine, new style,
3 boxes (12 to box) 25c. Very extra flowers, about 7 inches high, 12 in Japanese
box 25c. All sent prepaid. Well worth sending for.

Send for New Suggestions for

Little Gifts for Xmas Stockings

BROTHER CVSHMAN, 5 CORNERS, MONTCLAIR, N. J.

FOR YOUR XMAS — AN "IDEAL" FLYER

You can build this
"IDEAL" 3-foot RACER
in ONE hour and FLY
it 1000 FEET
Complete materials, includ-
ing INSTRUCTIVE plan and
FINISHED PROPELLERS. $2 prepaid, with Pat. Friction Winder. $2.50.

"IDEAL" BLERIOT MONOPLANE

Complete parts, including carved out
propeller, with concise plan and build-
ing instructions, $4 prepaid.

"IDEAL" AERO PORTFOLIO (5 drawings), $1 postpaid.
40 pp. ill. Model Aeroplane Supply Catalog, 5 cents.

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

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

Report on Advertising Competition No. 130

The Judges were somewhat disap-
pointed this month at the small number
of replies received. They thought there
would be at least a thousand good ad-
vertisements of schools because we
know from the letters you have written
us that a great many of you are
interested in this subject, and would
regard highly any schools St. Nicho-
las recommended.

We also know from what you have
told us that nearly all your fathers
and mothers read St. Nicholas and
love it almost as much as you, so we
thought you would enjoy preparing an
advertisement of your favorite school,
as you would wish them to see it.
Would you like us to start a "School
Department" in St. Nicholas?

The following prize-winners did
excellent work and submitted fine ad-
vertisements':

One First Prize, $5.00 :

Adelyn Joseph, age 17, Illinois.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each:

Charlotte E. Wilder, age 14, California.

Margie Fennere Jennison, age 16, Michigan.
Tfwee Third Prizes, $2.00 each:

Mary McNally, age 8, New York.

Anna Harkin, age 14, Pennsylvania.

Edith I. Turner, age 12, Pennsylvania.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each :

Bessie Weisenfeld, age 13, Maryland.

Arthur Schwarz, age 14, New York.

May Wishart, age 14, Massachusetts.

Ralph A. Monroe, age 14, Massachusetts.

Elsket Bejach, age 16, Massachusetts.

Charlotte Alice Phillips, age 14, New York.

Katrina Schermerhorn, age 1 2, Michigan.

William Lewis, age 10, Indiana.

Doris Berry, age 13, New Jersey.

Lenore Andrews, age 1 2, New York.

(See also pages 46 and 48.)

If you want to see a smile of joy on your
boy's face Christmas morning, give him a

*sy*

AIR RIFLE

"Daisy Special," 1000-shot . . .
Other Daisy Models, 50 cents to

AT ALL DEALERS

Daisy Manufacturing Company, Plymouth, Mich.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

^Ps^mj & Bern

ftfc

,":iilHl"llliliiiniiiillp

Let 's Go Skating c

BUY EARLY YOUR

CHRISTMAS SKATES

and Get the Choice Designs

A shining present that will last a lifetime.

Every boy and girl knows when they see
the name Barney & Berry on skates that
they are the best obtainable.

Select the style you desire from our Catalog,
sent free upon request. It also contains Hockey Rules, Skating Program, and directions for building
an ice-rink. Your dealer will supply you with just the style you desire. Otherwise, write us.

BARNEY & BERRY, 142 Broad Street, Springfield, Mass.

QUALITY MADE THE NAME FAMOUS

An Ideal Xmas Gift

COMPLETE

WIRELESS
SET

Sending and Receiving

$15.00 Value

Special i

Price

EVERY wide-awake young man in America should
own and operate a wireless set. Clean, whole-
some, educational sport. Parents should encour-
age their boys along electrical lines. This set consists
of our highest grade i-in. coil giving a full i^-in. fat
spark, primary condenser, secondary condenser, con-
denser switch, %-in. zinc spark gap, sending helix, key,
large capacity tuner, fixed condenser D. P. D. T. aerial
switch, exceptionally sensitive iooo Ohm receiver and
cord, 120 feet aerial wire and insulators, codes, di-
rections.

Completely mounted on oak base, size 8^x 16 inches.
Weighs 9 lbs. packed. Will send messages 8 to 15
miles. Receives from 600 to 800 miles.

Special price, $8.95. With 2000 Ohm receivers and
headband, $12.25. Send your order today.
Complete receiving sets, $1.95 and upwards.
Complete sending and receiving sets, $3.90 and up-
wards.

Send for circular O at once, also Morse, Navy,
Continental and International codes. It's FREE.

HUNT & McCREE "jgjpifflh?-

Be the Best Skater
in Your Town

by keeping your skates bright as
new — no rust on runners, screws,
clamps — good for guns too.

Old Skates Made New

and bright by wiping before and
after using with woolen cloth
moistened with "3-in-One." Pre-
vents rust and tarnish on the
runners, keeps clamps
and screws in fine
working order. Good
sample bottle and book
absolutely free. Write

3-IN-ONE OIL CO.

42 Q. M. Broadway New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Essays of authority on engravers
old and modern. Edited by
FitzRoy Carrington. Illustra-
tions from 197 original etchings
and engravings of rare interest
and value. Beautifully made.

Royal 8vo, 2J5 pages of text.
Price $3. jo net, postage 21 cents.

A specially satisfying
gift-book

Why Go To
College

By Clayton Sedgwick Cooper

This broad survey of academic
life and influence has a message
for every man and woman in-
terested in the equipping of the
young men of our nation -for
efficient citizenship.

Attractive illustrations from
etchings and drawings by
Thomas Wood Stevens and
others.

8vo, 212 pages. Price $1.30 net,
postage 1 j cents.

For the thinking citizen

The New
Industrial Day

By William C. Redfield

A fresh and vital discussion of
pressing problems by an author-
ity, dealing with fundamental,
economic and sociological laws.
A book of live interest.

i2mo, 275 pages. Price $s.2j
net, postage 12 cents.

By Virginia Robie

A delightful guide for both the experienced and
amateur collector in the quest of rare and unique

old china, furni-
ture, brass, etc.

A charmingly-
made volume.
Frontispiece in rich
color. Eighty in-
teresting insets from
photographs.

Lovely head-
bands and tail-
pieces by Brennan.

8vo, 600 pages. Price $2.40 net, postage 16 cents.

Everybody's St. Francis

By Maurice Francis Egan

United States Minister to Denmark

A biography of rare sympathy and charm, the

story of the life and work of perhaps the most

widely known and loved saint of all history.

Eight exquisite full-page illustrations in the
colors of the originals, and twelve in black and
white, by the noted French artist, M. Boutet de
Monvel. Royal 8vo, ipj pages. Price $2.50 net,
postage 12 cents.

For every Lincoln lover

Personal Traits of
Abraham Lincoln

By Helen Nicolay

A delightful and illuminating record, based largely
upon material gathered by the late John G. Nico-
lay, one of Lincoln's private secretaries. An
intimate and sympathetic revelation of many un-
familiar phases of the great American' s private life.
Reproductions of handbills, invitations, letters,
and documents in Lincoln's own writing.
Tall i2mo, 387 pages. Price $1. 80 net,
postage 14 cents.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

SIX

GREAT

NOVELS

THE LADY

AND

SADA SAN 1

|H ASEOUELTOTHEIADV' K
" THE DECORATION '

4; :■(

" ■.'.•. I' ;-,. (,;-.;. -J." -' .- .- -;'-- -,• ';■■■

AROMANC

BILLYGOATHI

Put them on your
Christmas List

THE CENTURY CO.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

irij tip darkness ever fjrowinq,!

%id rtjetijooijbdjhjd Vr!l^'
^|oui3ouldsooi|l)awlroul)kl^own|a

Witcl] tfWfafy aqWStdf?.. Git

Don't judge the value
of St. Nicholas in the
dark. Throw on it the
search-lights of fact and
truth.

St. Nicholas
Magazine

means more than a magazine to its readers. It is an educational
institution — mentally, morally, and physically. It is a comrade that
amuses, inspires, and teaches boys and girls. Mothers and fathers
welcome it into the home because it provides their children with the
best of everything that goes to feed young minds.

St. Nicholas is a living, breathing, progressive bit of our Ameri-
can life — continuing the work it began four decades ago — and says,
" Work with me, for my work is right."

In the words of Thomas Huxley, it believes that young Americans
should " Learn what is true, in order to do what is right."

Any good reliable manufacturer who expects to be in business next
year, and the year after, will eventually want these St. Nicholas
readers for his customers. Make friends of them now while they are
at an age when impressions are most easily made.

DON M. PARKER

ADVERTISING MANAGER

UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Flexible Flyers

w% £%k steers'

Wins

Every

Race!

only

sled

with

grooved

runners!

The ideal Christmas gift for boys and girls

Gives an added zest to coasting because it can be
steered at full speed around all obstacles. Light
enough to easily pull up hill — yet so strong it

outlasts 3 ordinary sleds

The grooved runners insure greater speed, and absolutely
prevent "skidding," The famous steering-bar does away
entirely with dragging feet, wear and tear on boots and shoes,
wet feet, colds, etc. No other steering
sled has the exclusive features of the
Flexible Flyer. Be sure to look for the
grooved runners and this trade-mark. trade-majuc

T01717 Car<H>oar<l working model
flCI'.r. of the Flexible Flyer and
*»*J*J handsome booklet.

Just say "send model and booklet" and we'll
gladly send them FREE. Write today!

S. L. ALLEN & CO.,

BOX
1101V

Philadelphia

"AERIAL TOYS" Splendid Gift for Boys

Our "Big $i Xmas Specia Assortment Outfit of Aerial
Toys which
actually fly, will
make your boy
happy. His Xmas
Box will be in-
complete without
thisoutfit. Great-
est offer ever.
S large 4 ' .■ ft. colored balloons; 1 sample 514 ft.
" Right Airship " ; 1 doz. Electric Sparkler Torches;
1 large 6-ft. Balloon with Dummy and Parachute
attached, which is released when high in air, — all
complete in a neat cardboard box — with directions,
only $1. Wt. of Pkg. 3 lbs. Biggest $i Xmas
Special on the market. Send for yours today.
THE BRAZEL NOVELTY MFG. CO.
1739 Ella Street, Cincinnati, Ohio.

^^ffi^j

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

SWENDER PATENT

The PONYCYCLE

It Rocks While You Ride j

Fun and Healthful Exer-
cise for Boys and Girls
the year round. Horse
has continuous Gal-
loping Motion, af-
fording all the
thrills of riding a
real pony, is a
handsome dap-
ple gray with hair
mane and tail, and at-
tractively harnessed.
Can be used as Hobby
Horse indoors when
weather is unfavorable.

A USEFUL XMAS GIFT

IS A SELF-SETTINC PLANE
Boys! Let us send you our Self-Setting Plane.

You will find it a very handy tool and wonder how

you have gotten along without

it. If you could see the plane '

and try it — you would realize that

no such plane has been put on the

market before. Send a stamp to 1

Dept. A for circulars and trial offer.

GAGE TOOL CO., Vineland, N.J.

Made in various styles and sizes for children 2 to 10 years old.
Shipped direct to you, express charges prepaid, at factory
prices, $5.50 to $9.50. Write for booklet.

A. W. Swender Co., 1005 Papin St. , St. Louis, U. S. A.

American Model Builder

Boys! Will You Get One?

Twenty thousand boys will b<
happy this Christmas with the A
can Model Builder. Will you be
With this wonderful game yo
build bridges, sky-scrapers, raili
and hundreds of other models,
can imitate the works of the wc
great engineers. Each outfV
contains a full set of beams
girders, angle irons, braces,
wheels, and gears, with bolts
and nuts to fasten them to-
gether. Complete Manual of q
Instruction free. Ask youri
father to buy you the
American Model Builde
Better-made, more complete, i
price than any similar outfit. F
seven different sizes from $iup. For sale by leading department store steal-
ers intoys and sportinggoods. Be sure to get the" American Model Builder ."

THE AMERICAN MECHANICAL TOY CO.

432 E. First Street, Dayton, Ohio

1 lower

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Yale Juvenile Bicycles

THE RIGHT KIND of a bicycle will do more to keep a youngster healthy and happy
than any one other thing. It will take him daily into the great outdoors; fill his lungs
with the pure, fresh air God made for them ; and put the glow of perfect health in his cheeks.

The Yale Juvenile
Bicycle is designed es-
pecially for boys and
girls.

It is made solid in
each and every part
to withstand the hard
knocks and rough
handling that the
average active young-
ster is bound to give it.

The extra-strong
steel frame is heavily
reinforced at all the
joints, and has a
forged crown. Choice
is given of either the one- or two-piece drop-forged hanger of our own special design.

The perfect alignment of bearing parts secured by this specially designed hanger
practically eliminates friction and makes the Yale very easy to ride. No matter how
fast or how far your youngster may go, he will NEVER tire on the Yale ; while hills
will prove no obstacle at all.

Yale and Snell Juvenile Bicycles are made with 20, 24, or 26-inch wheels, for either
boys or girls.

The wheels are fitted with the best single-tube tires made; and in every other detail
we have tried to make them the most perfect juvenile bicycles.

Make that youngster of yours happy — and healthy — with one.

Boys' Bicycle, 20-inch wheels, $20; 24-inch wheels,
$22; 26-inch wheels, $25.

Every boy and girl should have one of these bicycles. Noth-
ing else can take its place ; and no other bicycle will give the
satisfaction the Yale or Snell will give. Send a postal-card
to-day for booklets and other literature giving full description.

THE CONSOLIDATED MFG. CO., 1762 Fernwood Ave., TOLEDO, OHIO

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

LL of us, grown-ups as well as youngsters, can enjoy the winter
thoroughly without having our hands and faces become rough and
chapped. The only thing we need do is to use a little care in washing.

Washing with soap containing free alkali and careless drying are the causes
of most irritations of the skin during cold weather. Use instead a mild, pure
soap, rinse with cold water and make doubly sure that the skin is thoroughly
dry. Then the wind can give'^ou nothing worse than glowing cheeks.

There is no soap milder or purer than Ivory — not even pure Castile. It
cannot possibly irritate the most delicate skin. Then it rinses so readily that
it is very easy to remove the feither and leave the skin in perfect condition
for pleasant, thorough drying.

If the skin has become chapped, Ivory Soap — because of this same purity
and mildness — is the best soap to use. With it the sensitive face and hands
can be cleansed without smarting and the rough skin soon becomes soft and
smooth again.

IVORY SOAP 99ft* PURE

[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 JANUARY, 1913.

Frontispiece. "The Man in the Wilderness." Painted by Arthur Page

Rackham. .

The Nursery Rhymes of Mother Goose: "The Man in the Wilder-
ness." " Humpty Dumpty." "A carrion-crow sat on an oak."
' ' Little Miss Muffett. " 193

Illustrated by Arthur Rackham.

"Just Anna." Story Marlon mil 195

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.

The Day After Christmas. Picture. Drawn by Leighton Budd 201

Christmas Secrets. Verse LHlie Gimiand McDowell 202

Illustrated by Edna F. Hart.

Runty, the Boy-Giant. Story Wallace Dunbar Vincent 203

Illustrated by Herbert Paus.

A Merry Christmas. Verse a. l. sykes 208

Illustrated by Ruth S. Clements.
More Than Conquerors: A Modern Greatheart. Biographical Sketch . .Ariadne Gilbert 209

Illustrated by Oscar F. Schmidt, and from photographs.

December Days. Verse Edward N. Teaii 218

Illustrated by Otto Rebele.

Beatrice of Denewood. Serial Story j SSSSSTST "d i 219

Illustrated by CM. Relyea. ' | Alden Arthur Knlpe \

iJohn Grier Hlbben^
Hugh Birckhead
F. E. Cbadwlck \ 227
Gilford Plncbot
Henry G. Prout
A Stray Letter. Verse Mrs. John T. Van Sant 230

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.

Teddy Bear's Bee-Tree. ("Babes of the Wild "—I.) Charles G. D. Roberts 231

Illustrated by Paul Bransom.

The Land Of Mystery. Serial Story Cleveland Moffett 237

Illustrated by Jay Hambidge, and from photographs.

An Unlucky Look. Verse James Rowe 244

The Christmas Tree. ("Ballads of the Be-Ba-Boes.") D. K. Stevens 245

Illustrated by Katharine M. Daland.
Old Fables Brought Up to Date : The Shepherd Boy and the Wolf . . C. J. Budd 249

Illustrated by the Author.
Junior-Man. Verse Ruth McEnery Stuart 250

Illustrated by Clara M. Burd.

The Brownies and the Stalled Train. Verse Palmer cox 252

Illustrated by the Author.

Curious Clocks. Sketch Charles A. Brassier 257

Illustrated from photographs.

Kane and Pard. Story Addison Howard Gibson 264

Illustrated by Bruce Horsfall.

Nature and Science for Young Folks 269

Illustrated.
St. Nicholas League. With Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems,

Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles 276

Illustrated.

For Very Little Folk:

What Santa Claus Brought. Verse Ida Kennlston 284

Illustrated by Fanny Y. Cory.

The Riddle-Box 287

St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 28

The Century Co. and its editors receive manuscripts and art material, submitted for publica-
tion, only on the understanding that they shall not be responsible for loss, or injury thereto,
while in their possession or in transit. Copies of manuscripts should be retained by the authors.

Subscription price, $3.00 a year; single number, 25 cents. The half-yearly parts of ST. NICHOLAS end with
the October and April numbers respectively, and the red cloth covers are ready with the issue of these numbers ; price 50 cents, by mail,
postpaid ; the two covers for the complete volume, $1.00. We bind and furnish covers for '/5 cents per part, or $1.50 for the complete
volume. (Carriage extra.) In sending the numbers to us, they should be distinctly marked with owner's name. Bound volumes are
not exchanged for numbers.

FRAN1 H. SCOTT, President. _,_,_, ^,^,„m^,^„„„ „ . „ ._ -, , «, --

WILLIAM W.ELLSWORTH, Vice-President and Secretary. THE CENTURY CO., UniOIl SfJUare. NeW York, N. Y,
DONALD SCOTT, Treasurer. i ----•» i

Entered as second-class matter at the Post-Office Department, Canada.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

illllllllllllllllllllllillllllllililllliillllllllllllllM

[ IT These boys and girls have hurried up to see what is on the St. Nicholas Bulletin. Presently they will go awe
■ and tell their friends about the treats in St. Nicholas, and their friends will ask their parents to subscribe.
! IT Do you tell your friends how much you like St. Nicholas?

l Remen
clever, va

1 Three i

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

"iiiiiiilifiii

Remember that our Bulletin tells only a little of what you can count on getting in future numbers. Hosts "of" "is

ever, valuable things that you can't afford to miss will appear every month. 3=

Three dollars a year. The Century Co., Union Square, New York. 1=

Iff,

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

A Christmas gift that will enrich the home life all the year

THE CENTURY in 1913

A year's subscription to The Century is a splen-
did gift for the thoughtful boy or girl to give
any one of the older members of the family.
It is a gift to give special pleasure to the
father of the family — a gift whose value is many
times increased because every member of the
household shares in the pleasure of his gift.

The Century in 1913

will continue to supply its readers with the wholesome intellectual food
that makes healthy-minded men and women ; its aim will still be to take
them out of their cares, through absorbing pictures of imagination and
through the rarest of qualities — that of charm.

The Century in 1913

will have unusual interest for the boys and girls graduating out of ST. NICHO-
LAS into grown-up reading. The "After-the-War " series will present recent
American history vividly and appealingly. Robert Hichens and Jules
Guerin will picture with rare color and charm the Balkan War Zone.
There will be a further discussion of the problems of fraternities in girls'
colleges by eminent college presidents. There will be an opportunity to
become familiar with the best in modern illustration. There will be every
month short stories by the leading fiction writers of the day.

There will be a serial by

Frances Hodgson Burnett

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Every boy and girl who reads St. Nicholas will want to read

Frances Hodgson Burnetts

4T. Tembarom

"99

Take a New York street urchin who has risen from newsboy to
Harlem Society Reporter," and announce to him in all truthful-
ness that he is the Lord of the Manor of Temple
Barholm in Lancashire, with an annual income
of three hundred and fifty thousand dollars —
and something is bound to happen.

With all the wholesome philosophy and sim-
plicity, and especially with that human touch
that so charmed the readers of "Little Lord
Fauntleroy " and " The Shuttle," Mrs. Burnett,
in her new novel, "T. Tembarom," weaves a
fascinating romance about a normal young Amer-
ican who is always cheerful, and a quiet little English girl who has
much good sense.

The spirit of youth and hope is in this de-
lightful story — it is Frances Hodgson Burnett
at her very best.

The January Century chapters will introduce " T. Tembarom"
and the interesting folk — unusual but very human — who make
up the circle of " T. Tembarom's " little world, till his changed
fortunes call him to England. It will be hard to wait for what
happens in the next chapters.

A year's subscription commences well with the January number, out just before Christmas
and beginning Mrs. Burnett's serial. Better yet, let the new subscription begin with
November, with the first of the "After-the-War " series. The November, December, and
January numbers will make an attractive Christmas package. A beautiful Christmas card
will carry your Christmas greeting if you wish.

The year, $4.00. Address the publishers:

THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, New York

Or your newsdealer will take and forward subscriptions

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Put it on your Christmas list

Famous Pictures

By Charles L. Barstow

A stimulating and delightful book
for all young folks, and for older
people who are unfamiliar with the
great paintings of the world.

The great canvases which have
touched the hearts and interested
the minds of all classes and condi-
tions of men are the subject of the
little volume's readable text, and
illustrations — centering the reader's
attention emphatically upon the
painting itself, its qualities, some-
thing of its painter's art.

Many carefully chosen illustrations. Helpful appendix, glossary and
index. An attractive gift-book. Price 60 cents net.

THE CENTURY GO. Union Square NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Novels are sweets. All people with healthy literary appetites love them.

— Thackeray.

... ..

A gift-book which carries a wealth of good cheer with it

The New
Book by the
Author of

"MRS. WIGGS" \

"Rich in the minor characters,
the gemlike incidents, and the
convulsing dialogue that the
public now expects of Mrs.
Rice."

By ALICE HEGAN RICE

A dramatic picture, rich in coloring, drawn on the broad canvas of
Kentucky — America's romance land. Quaint humor of the Mrs.
Wiggs type is woven into a love story of unusual charm and
much power.

Many clever and attractive pictures by Wright.
127110, 404 pages. Price $1.25 net, postage 12 cents.

A delightful gift for many a friend would be this new book of this most popular
of American story-tellers, and these three earlier books in a Christmas package —

Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch

A homely tale of a brave-hearted woman who was also a delicious character. Smiles and tears

Lovey Mary

on every page. Price $1.00.

Mr. Opp

How Mrs. Wiggs mothered two waifs besides her The story of a man who failed as the world counts
own brood, her hopeful spirit her only asset. failure — fascinating, sunny, laughter-compelling.
Deliciously told. Price $1.00. Pictures by Guipon. Price $1.00.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Beautifully Illustrated and of Enduring Value

An ideal gift-book for almost any age

Russian
Wonder Tales

Put this on your picked Christmas list too

Joan of Arc

Also delightful for its unusual quality

Jataka Tales

A fascinating book of jungle lore and primitive folk tales, adapted from the sacred

book of the Buddhists for young readers of to-day. Retold by Ellen C. Babbitt.

Thirty-six pictures in silhouette by Ellsworth Young which will specially please

little folks. Price $1.00 net, postage 8 cents.

A well-worth-while gift-book

iEsop's Fables

An Zvo 0/167 pages. Price $2.00 net, postage 14 cents.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Crofton Chums

Sixteen full-page illustrations by Relyea, full of life.
1 2mor 338 pages. Price $1.25 net, postage 1 2 cents.

This is RALPH
HENRY BARBOUR

Six Other Great Books
By this Prince of Story-tellers

Team-Mates

Kingsford, Quarter

Many pictures. Price $1.50

The Crimson Sweater

"A book that will go straight to the heart of every boy and of every lover of a
jolly, good foot-ball tale." Many pictures. Price $1.50

Tom, Dick, and Harriet

"Tom, Dick, and Harriet" is a book full of "ginger" — a healthful, happy book,
which both girls and boys will enjoy. Many pictures. Price $1.50

Captain Chub

In "Captain Chub" the boys rent a house-boat, and with Harriet and her father for
guests cruise up and down the Hudson, stopping on shore for all sorts of adventures.

Many pictures. Price $1.50

Harry's Island

The same happy quartet found fun another summer on an island in the Hudson
which Harry's father gave her for a birthday gift; and the days were very full
and j oily. Many pictures. Price $1.50

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

THE JUNGLE BOOK THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK

Both books are illustrated, "The Second Jungle Book"
with rare sympathy and skill by John Lockwood Kipling,
the author's father. Price, each, $1.50.

Another edition, specially charming for a gift, is bound in flexible red
leather. Price $1.50 net, postage 8 cents.

Another Great Kipling Book

CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS

THE BIOGRAPHY OF A SILVER FOX

By Ernest Thompson Seton

This is the most delightful of all Mr. Seton's delightful stories- — for the young in heart
of all ages — the story, from his cubhood to his splendid prime, of that aristocrat of
foxes, Domino Reynard, and his happy, adventurous life among the Goldur Hills. All
the magic of the wild, free life of the open is in its pages.

Over joo illustrations by the author, and very beautifully made. Price $1. 50.

By the Same Author

THE BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY

Just about the most delightful animal story ever written — saving and excepting always
those masterpieces of genius, the Jungle Books. It is a true story— we have Mr.
Seton's word for that — but it has the magic of imagination on every page.
Its pictures make it a never-ending joy; they are the author's.

Printed in two colors, with a very attractive binding. Price $1.50.

MASTER SKYLARK

By John Bennett

Young people will get a truer idea of the life of Shakspere's day from this delightful
story than from many a serious volume.

The pictures by Reginald Birch are among the book's delights. Price $1.50.

. - .

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

siittas Stoclliftfl B<

Old and New — a List of Wide Choice

■ :

The Knights of the Golden Spur

By Rupert Sargent Holland

Delightful illustrations by Reginald Birch.

l2mo, 31 3 pages. Price $1.25 net,

postage 1 2 cents.

Standard Books Which Every Child Should Own
HERO TALES FROM AMERICAN HISTORY

By Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Cabot Lodge

Illustrated. Price $1.50

THE BOYS' LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN

By Helen Nicolay

Illustrations by J. Hambidge and others. Price $1.50

THE BIBLE FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

Beautifully illustrated from famous paintings by the Old Masters. 475 pages of
easy-to-read text, handsome red binding. Price $1.50 net, postage 23 cents.

DONALD AND DOROTHY

By Mary Mapes Dodge, the children's friend

Not a new book, but always new in its power to interest and delight every boy and girl
— the story of a sister and a brother — fine, sweet, true. Pictures. Price $1.50

LADY JANE

By Cecile Viets Jamison
A book of unusual freshness and charm, the story of a dear little girl whose beauty
and sweet ways and genius for winning love brought her many experiences.

Reginald Birch's pictures are quaint and fascinating. Price $1 . 50

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

THE BROWNIE BOOKS

By Palmer Cox

Palmer Cox's Brownie books — there are eight of the regular
books altogether now — are unique in their whimsical clever-
ness and fun. His fun-making pen, his gift at jingle-turning,
seem to gain in cleverness and wit with every year ; and
youngsters of all ages enjoy the jolly Brownies and their man-
ifold pranks. Pictures and verse in every volume are done
as only Palmer Cox knows how.

Eight books, with pictures on every page. Board covers in color.
Quarto, 144 pages. Price $1.50 each.

DO YOU KNOW THEM?

The Brownies' Latest Adventures

One hundred and forty-four pages of condensed sun-
shine.

The Brownies : Their Book

The original Brownie book, the first collection of Mr.
Cox's verse and pictures.

Another Brownie Book
The Brownies at Home
The Brownies Around the World

The Brownies Through the Union
Brownies Abroad
The Brownies in the Philippines
The Brownie Primer

Made up from all the Brownie books, for schools and
for all little children. Price 40 cents net.

Brownie Clown of Brownietown

One hundred pages of Brownie quaintness and jolly
fun and ridiculous doings, with many of the old favor-
ites, and some new characters playing pranks. All
in color. Price $1.00.

THE QUEEN SILVER-BELL SERIES

By Frances Hodgson Burnett

Queen Silver-Bell

Telling not only how the tiny queen lost her fairy tem-
per and the dire results thereof, but of "How Winnie
Hatched the Little Rooks."

Racketty-Packetty House

All about a delightful family of lovable children and
even more lovable dolls, as dear a story as was ever
written.

The Cozy Lion

A most delightful bit of nonsense — imagine a cozy
lion— with the fantastic and tender strain in the telling
characteristic of Mrs. Burnett.

The Spring Cleaning

Dear little Bunch, and the dear, dear Primrose World,
and the beautiful Primrose Day party, all appeal to
the heart of every child.

Four exquisite little books, each with twenty pictures in color by
Harrison Cady. Price 60 cents each.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

The Wireless Man

By Francis Arnold Collins

Across the Atlantic

The Wireless Man

How It Works

Talking Across the Atlantic

Some Stirring Wireless Rescues

Novel Uses of Wireless
Wireless in the Army
Wireless in the Navy
The Wireless Detective
Three Heroes of the Wireless

Thirty-two interesting illustrations from photographs.
\2mo, 250 pages. Price $1.20 net, postage 1 1 cents.

Ry the Same Author.

The Boys' Book of Model Aeroplanes

The ideal book for every one who has been caught in the fascination
of model aeroplane experimenting.

Helpfully illustrated. Price $1.20 net, postage 14 cents.

The Second Boys' Book of Model Aeroplanes

Covering up to date the science and sport of model aeroplane building
and flying, both in this country and abroad.

Over 100 illustrations. Price $1.20 net, postage 11 cents.

The Battle of Base-ball

By C. H. Claudy

Give it to every lad who is a base-ball fan. (What lad is n't?)
A book which gets at the heart of the great American game,
and tells of it from a boy's standpoint — every page snappy and
alive. The author himself is " crazy about base-ball."

Christy Mathewson tells "How I Became a 'Big-League'
Pitcher," and there are pages of pictures from photographs of
famous players, managers, and base-ball fields.
Price $1.50 net, postage 1 1 cents.

■=A

THE
WIRELESS

MAN

FRANCIS A. COLLINS

THE SECOND

BOYS'BOOK/

MODEL
AEROPLANES

FRANCIS A. COLLINS

THE BATTLE
OF BASEBALL

Let us Bend you our attractive new holiday Catalogue. It
contains, among many other helpful suggestions for your
holiday planning, a "Classified List of Books for Young
Folks," which will give you wide choice of delightful books
for children of all ages.

A book is always a splendid gift.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

For many other delightful books for boys and girls of all ages, send for The Century Co.'s
"Classified List of Books for Young Folks" — a helpful friend in your Christmas planning.

«Tv

By the author of " The Melting of Molly "

Sue Jane

By Maria T. Daviess

Eight full-page illustrations by Furtnan. \2tno,
225 pages. Price $1.25 net, postage 10 cents.

Also hy an author who has never grown up

The Lady of the Lane

By Frederick Orin Bartlett

Attractive illustrations by Caswell. \imo, 3$6pages. Price $1.25 net, postage 12 cents.

By the Same Author

The Forest Castaways

Of unusual charm in the telling

The Lucky Sixpence

By Emilie Benson Knipe and Alden Arthur Knipe

There is much actual fact in this out-of-the-ordinary tale ; and the authors make the bonny
heroine of the story, the historic Americans she meets, and our own Revolutionary his-
tory very real and alive with vivid interest. It is a splendid tale for all growing-up
young folks — and grown-ups too— who like an exciting story of worth-while adventure.
Sixteen full-page illustrations by Becker, \11no, 408 pages.
Price $1.25 net, postage 12 cents.

"The greatest of magazines for boys and girls of all ages."

BOUND VOLUMES OF ST. NICHOLAS

The twelve monthly numbers in two large 8vo volumes,
richly decorated. How children do love them !

One thousand pages. One thousand picttires.

Beautifully bound in gay red covers,

The two volumes, $4.00.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

The Lady and Sada San

By Frances Little

Frontispiece by Berger. i6mo, 224 pages. Price $1.00 net,
postage 6 cents.

A Great Book o£ Adventure

Smoke Bellew

By Jack London

The spirit of the vast frozen North is in this book, and the lure of the Klondike's
treasure. One adventure follows another — it is Jack London at his best. A splendid
book for a boy's reading.

Strong pictui-es by Monahan. l2?no, 385 pages. Price $1.30 net, postage 13 cents.

Alice Hegan Rice's New Book

A Romance of Billy- Goat Hill

"Lady" is the heroine, a gay little rose set with thorns at
first. Everybody loves her, and with good reason. The
thorns disappear; but "Lady" never grows up; and Mrs.
Rice's telling of her romance is exquisite. The quaint humor
of " Mrs. Wiggs" is in the book, too.

Illustrations by Wright. \imo, 404 pages. Price $1.25 net,
postage 12 cents.

A Clever Story of Wireless

"C Q"

By Arthur Train

It makes a voyage over seas — with the Wireless holding out hands to all the world —
a new thing— this story of the part the Wireless played in many lives on just one voyage
across the Atlantic. Full of humor, full of thrills.

Clever pictures by Crosby, \2n10, 301 pages. Price $1.20 net, postage 12 cents.

And don't miss this delicious little book

Daddy-Long-Legs

By Jean Webster

"Daddy-Long-Legs" is Judy's nickname for the unknown friend who sends her
— a starved little orphan — through college. Guess what happened. There 's a
laugh on every page. The illustrations are the author's own— you must read the book
to realize how funny they are. i6mo, 304 pages. Price $1.00 net, postage 8 cents.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

To you, and to each and every St Nich-
olas reader, the Editor of St. Nicholas
sends best wishes for a Merry Christ-
mas and a Glad New Year — a New
Year filled with health and growth
and sunny days — and St. Nicholas.

For St. Nicholas means — and during the new year coming more
than ever before— live, worth-while information, and acquaintance
with good pictures, and stories cf the kind that stimulate not only
delightfully but helpfully, and hours of happy, wholesome enter-
tainment for every 'boy and girl who makes St. Nicholas a friend.

If you are not among the many thousands — scattered
through every land under the sun — to whom St. Nicholas
is just as fixed a part of the family life as Christmas, start
getting acquainted to-day.

First, send for the St. Nicholas Calendar. A post-card request will bring it.
Address :

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square New York

Then read the' next page

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

A real letter to St. Nicholas which has a
splendid suggestion for every one who
is thinking Christmas:

Dear St. Nicholas:

Why do I think the poet Whittier said you are " the best
child's periodical in the world"? What an easy question to
answer: because every reader of you loves and enjoys every
page. You awake ambition having such a lovely League with
its gold and silver badges and honor members. When your
pages are opened, the reader is in another land, now a land of
mystery, now a land of fairies, and now a land where dreams
come true.

I have taken you about four years, and never once have I lost
interest when reading your pages, but I have become more and
more interested. I count the days to the fifteenth of the
month ; the postman never comes so slowly as on this particular
morning.

I have read the serial stories to my grandmother, and
she has been as interested and anxious for the next
number as I.

My sister and I love the League with its poems,
stories, pictures, and photographs.

I read you over and over from cover to cover and
never tire.

I know I could not get along without you, and, furthermore, do
not intend to try. Now dare to ask again why I love you and
if I or any other reader agree with Whittier.

Marjorie C. Moran,

Brooklyn, N. Y.

How many of the Christmas gifts you gave last
year carried as much pleasure as St. Nicholas is
giving in Marjorie's home?

Five minutes at your desk right now will make the Christmas thought a beautiful fact on
Christmas Day. Write your order now, inclose the subscription price, $3.00, in check, money-
order, or stamps ; give name and address plainly, and ask for the beautiful Christmas card of
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order is received in time. Address the publishers :

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square .,_.,,...„,. New York

T/ie above letter is one of five prize-winning, letters. See next page

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

More Real Letters to ST. NICHOLAS

The letter on the preceding page, and the four below, are the prize-
winning letters, condensed because of limitations of space, received in
answer to the questions asked in the November St. Nicholas:

Why do you think the beloved poet Whittier called St. Nicholas " the best child's periodical in
the world"?

Why do you love St. Nicholas to-daj — the thousands of you who watch for it every month and
make it a family institution f

Does n't this girl's delight in St. Nicholas
give you a hint for your Christmas list?

Dear Editor of St. Nicholas :

I think the poet Whittier spoke truly when he
called SI. Nicholas the " greatest child's periodi-
cal." As a regular subscriber for five years and
as an Honor Member of the League, I think I
have found wherein lies the greatness.

Aside from the stories (which of course are of
the best), the League, Nature and Science, The
Letter-Box, " Because We Want to Know," and
the advertising competitions give the young
reader ample opportunity for the display and de-
velopment of his talents, as well as a knowledge
of things which otherwise might remain unknown
to him.

Why should n't I love St. Nicholas when I have
reaped nothing but enjoyment from its stories
and profitable bits of knowledge from the articles
and the departments?

Why should I not look ahead to the fifteenth
of each month with pleasant anticipation when
each new number brings another instalment of
an interesting serial story, new short stories, and
some added honor from the League?

Why should n't I love the magazine which
through months of illness has never failed to give
me an added interest to help me along the road
to health ?

Take it all in all, why should n't I love the
St. Nicholas ? Sincerely yours,

Dorothy M. Rogers, Gloucester, Mass.

Are you puzzled about a gift for
" that boy " ? Read this :

Dear St. Nicholas :

I cannot express a certain emotion which exists
between St. Nicholas and me. I understand that
such a spell has been called ' ' love. ' ' Whatever
it is, the grip is like a vise which 1 could n't break
if I wanted to. Sometimes when I try to think
of what I 'd like if I could get three wishes, out-
side of health and happiness, the first is — that I
may never miss a St. Nicholas ; the second, that
I may win a prize in the League's competitions.

There are, perhaps, many others who believe
as Whittier did, but of all the St. Nicholas lovers,
there cannot be any with a love greater than
mine. I have forcibly defended ' 'St. Nick " twice,
with a black eye result once.

Arthur Schwarz, Brooklvn, N. Y.

St. Nicholas has a personal quality which
makes it a specially welcome gift

To the Unseen Powers Behind St. Nich-
olas :
The underlying reason why St. Nicholas is the
best loved book of childhood is because it ap-
peals directly to them.

When a child reads it he feels that this or that
story is not for some other fellow, — but for him !
The whole magazine seems to breathe, " I am
yours."

How this wonderful result is accomplished I
cannot say, but there is a personal atmosphere
about St. Nicholas that exists in no other publi-
cation. Young folks read it from cover to cover,
afraid to miss a single page ; they know from
past experience that a wonderful surprise may
be lurking in some unsuspected corner.

And when the child becomes a man and must
put by his childish treasures, St. Nicholas, to-
gether with all of his youthful joys and dreams,
is placed on the shelf of memory, and when he
has boys and girls of his own, he passes to them
this companion of his own childhood — the price-
less heritage of youth.

That is why the older folks steal away in a
silent corner to read St. Nicholas ; that is why we
all love it, for we are all children at heart.
A Friend who will never outgrow
St. Nicholas, Philadelphia, Pa.

A year's subscription to St. Nicholas
brings Christmas every month

Dear St. Nicholas:

One may as well ask a child why he loves
Christmas as to ask him why he loves St.
Nicholas. Why are little children at this time
asking and thinking about Santa Claus ? For
the very same reason that thousands of boys and
girls eagerly await the arrival of St. Nicholas
month after month.

It means a good time, something to get excited
over, to talk about, to think about, and, best of
all, to know it is coming again with all its stories,
puzzles, pictures, poems, etc.

The only thing I have against St. Nicholas is :
it stops in the most interesting part of the story,
putting a " to be continued " underneath.
Your most interested reader,

Charlotte Mary Collins,
Slingerlands, N. Y.

A year's subscription to St. Nicholas will be sent to the writer of each of the above let-
ters. A list of " honorable mention " crowded out of this number will be published in
the February St. Nicholas, and to each of those whose letter entitles them to honorable
mention, will be sent a copy of the beautiful January number of St. Nicholas, with the
greetings of the Editor.

IS YOUR LETTER AMONG THESE?

See next page for some of the good things coming in St. Nicholas during JpiJ

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

St. Nicholas

and its rich feast during 1913

The great English artist

Arthur Ragkham

is famous for the wonderful imagination and
skill with which he pictures the characters
dear to the young in heart of every age.
He is making for St. Nicholas the most
delightful pictures of Mother Goose —
Mother Goose pictures unequaled in whim-
sical humor and appeal.

These pictures, some in color, and some
in black and white, will be a great feature
of St. Nicholas during the coming year.

Arthur Rackham

Another fine feature of St. Nicholas

during the new year will be a valuable and informingly interesting
series of articles dealing with the history of architecture, under
such chapter-headings as Egyptian corner-stones, Greek beauty,
Roman palisades, how the great cathedrals began, medieval
cities, and many other phases of the subject. Every wide-awake
boy and girl will find these articles of unusual interest.

Friendship with St. Nicholas

means acquaintance with the best modern magazine illustration,
an acquaintance which is showing results in the wonderfully clever
work being submitted by members of the St. Nicholas League,
first in the St. Nicholas League contests, later in competitions
with other artists in the field of magazine illustration.

For a few of the other good things coming in St. Nicholas during sp/J see next page

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Every number of St. Nicholas is a com-
plete, beautiful, fascinating book in it-
self, with just enough "to-be-continueds"
to keep interest at the top-notch from
month to month.

During 1913 there will be run two-of the very
best serials St. Nicholas has ever printed:

" Beatrice of Denewood," by Emilie Ben-
son Knipe and Alden Arthur Knipe, is
alive with unusual adventure, to which
the little heroine's telling constantly im-
parts a delightful humor.

In "The Land of Mystery," Cleveland
Moffett is telling one of the most stirring
and remarkable stories of adventure ever
written for young folks. The February
chapters just crackle with excitement.

French's statue at Lincoln, Neb.

The young folks who are fortunate enough to have St. Nicholas
their comrade during 191 3 will become familiar with some of the
world's greatest men and greatest achievements. There will be
more of the stimulating "talks with boys" begun in this number
— in February, some rich gems of advice and suggestion by John
Bigelow and Jean Jules Jusserand. Miss Ariadne Gilbert's fine
series of biographical sketches, " More Than Conquerors," will
be continued. The February St. Nicholas will present "that
craggy peak among men," Lincoln, acquaintance with whom is
ennobling for every American.

Another series, rich in information and interest, will be A.
Russell Bond's stories of the wonderful details of certain of the
great constructive engineering enterprises under way in and

around New York.

What gift at a cost of $3.00 can begin to bring to the boy or
girl of your heart's interest such a mine of profit and delight
as a year's subscription to St. Nicholas?

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

A year's subscription to St. Nicholas means
twelve gifts in one, the twelve specially
happy days of each number's arrival, twelve
months of entertainment and growth.

Send subscription, $3.00, to-day, if you wish a Christmas card of greet-
ing and the first numbers to arrive on Christmas Day. A few quiet, com-
fortable minutes at your desk, and a household of boys and girls is made
happy for a year, or a lonely child is given a companion for twelve months.

Why not send a year's subscription to St. Nicholas to every child on

your Christmas list? Address the publishers:

THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, NEW YORK

Or your own newsdealer will take subscriptions

A Postscript to All Boys and Girls:

A year's subscription to St. Nicholas is a splendid
gift for you to give to one of your brothers or
sisters, or your best friend. Father will help
you send the amount of your subscription safely.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

FoFB'avelSrslo and fiota v.aiitomic

The oiinmg-cars are tinder management f
of Fred Harvey.

En ronfe yon can visif ike
Grand Canyon of Arizona

On request "will send our booklets felling about
a delightful journey fo winferless California,
through the Southwest Land of Enchantment-

W. J.Bladk.Pass.Trafnc Mgr. AT-%Sf-Ry System.
1072 Railway Exchange, Chicago.

(^lifornieQiinifeiJ

Exclusively for firsf-class travel -The year, 'round

mheH

"THE MAN IN THE WILDERNESS."

PAINTED FOR ST. NICHOLAS BY ARTHUR RACKHAM.

ST. NICHOLAS

Vol. XL

JANUARY, 1913

No. 3

The Man in the Wilderness asked me
How many strawberries grew in the sea?
I answered him, as I thought good,
As many as red-herrings grew in the wood.

7 "

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;

All the King's horses, and all the King's men

Cannot put Humpty" Dumpty together again.

25-26.

Ill

A carrion-crow sat on an oak,

Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi-ding do,

Watching a tailor mend his cloak ;
Sing heigh, sing ho, the carrion-crow,
Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi-ding do !

Wife, bring me my old ben' bow,

Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi-ding do,
That I may shoot yon carrion-crow ;
Sing heigh, sing ho, the carrion-crow,
Fol de riddle, lol de

riddle, hi-ding do ! jP

The tailor shot, but he missed his mark,
Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi-ding do,

And he shot the old sow right through the heart;
Sing heigh, sing ho, the carrion-crow,
Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi-ding do !

z^^^k^^^%^

©A.fi

Little Miss Muffett
Sat on a tuffet,

Eating of curds and whey ;

There came a great spider
And sat down beside her,

And frightened Miss Muffett away.

••LITTLE MISS MUFFETT."

PAINTED FOR ST. NICHOLAS BY ARTHUR RACKHAM.

©A.R.

"JUST ANNA"

BY MARION HILL

"How do I look?" begged
Olive, wrenching her eyes
from the hall mirror to
bestow them coaxingly
upon that most indifferent
of admirers, a brother.
"How do I look, Dan?"

"Neat— very neat, Sis !"

he replied enthusiastically.

He was very fond of

Olive, and willing to go to extravagant lengths

of praise.

Her radiant face clouded.

"Is that all?" came from her, inadvertently.
She was no girl to angle for compliments, but if
ever that hall mirror had reflected a pleasing face
in its life, in its long, patient, family life, it had
done so this last minute ; and Olive fairly ached
for Dan to discover it.

"Yes, that 's all," he said calmly. "You 're all
right. Stop worrying !"

Olive swallowed a sigh and slipped into her
coat, fortunately unaided. When Dan helped a
girl on with her coat, he waited till she had her
arms in the sleeves, then made a derrick of him-
self, and hoisted the coat by the collar high in
air. The girl then fell into place of her own
weight, her cuffs up to her shoulders, her collar
up to her eyes, her hair anywhere and every-
where.

Those whom Dan "assisted" in this fashion
were always too complimented by his attention to
criticize the manner of it, for Dan was as comely
for a boy as Olive was for a girl, and the damsels
of his acquaintance all owned to the oddity of
preferring to be "yanked" into their coats by
Dan rather than to be insinuated into them ele-
gantly by anybody else.

"How small your feet seem, Dan, in those new
tan shoes," said Olive, pensively according him
some of the balm she needed herself.

"Don't they, though?" agreed Dan, pridefully
spreading his hands in his pockets and gazing
with pleasure at his bright yellow extremities.
"Hate to waste these shoes on a picnic."

"Nothing is 'wasted' that helps us to look-
neat— very neat," gulped Olive, heroically, en-

deavoring to defend the
wearing of her own new
shoes also. "And as for a
picnic, I 'd sooner look — at
least neat— at a picnic than
anywhere else. That is why
I have dressed in all my
pretty things."

The day was all that it
should be for a picnic, as
everybody had known it would be, even weeks
before; for, in this part of California, rain falls
not when it wants to, as elsewhere, but only when
it is allowed to by the calendar. A lovely place
for picnics, California.

Dan and Olive caught the right trolley, filled
with chattering comrades, and after a brief ride
along the edge of the sunny Santa Clara Valley,
dismounted among the foot-hills which stand like
a line of pawns before the majestic mountains
beyond. The picnickers had chosen the spot on
account of its romantic wildness, for it was quite
cut off from every sign of civilization, and wild-
cats and coyotes were known to abound in the
chaparral, while a thrilling tale of rattlesnakes
was attached to the bare summit of every lonely
mountain. Also, the marvel of flowers was every-
where. What more could 'the heart of youth
desire?

Well, one thing. And as the morning wore on,
Dan and Olive both found out that, for their
parts, the picnic lacked its anticipated attraction.
In plain words, each had gone with the hope of
spending the whole lovely day with a certain per-
son who turned out not to be available. Dan had
counted upon his charming and pretty chum,
Maisie Doyle. And as she was kept at home by
the illness of her mother, no wonder Dan thought
picnics foolish. Moreover, his tight shoes were
growing tighter— it 's a way shoes have of doing
when they are least desired to do it.

And if anybody had told Olive that Larry Ladd
was away that day, with his signal corps, on a
brief surveying trip, Olive would probably have
decided not to go to the picnic at all. Nor were
Olive's shoes particularly comfortable either. She
felt a conviction growing upon her that she was

196

"JUST ANNA"

[Jan.,

too old for picnics. She, therefore, joined the
matrons who were setting out the lunch board.

"Let me help you, Mrs. Grey," she said heroic-
ally, to that indefatigable slicer of cake.

"Shoo, child !" vetoed Mrs. Grey, brandishing
her knife dismissively. "Go off with the others
and have a good time !"

So Olive went off, but not to the others ; the
others were mostly out of sight, though their gay
shouts kept ringing through the bushes. Older
girls than she were not too old for picnics, so it
seemed.

"Is n't this rather a bore?" asked Dan.

He strolled up, hands disdainfully in pockets,
head aristocratically high ; and he surveyed his
sister gloomily.

"Why, it 's perfectly beautiful !" she said
glibly. "The sky 's so blue, and the woods are so
wild, and the mountains are so tall and grand,
and the forest trails are so lost-looking and
tempting. We might almost be pioneers. It 's
beautiful !" Let any one think on his peril that
she had come for aught but scenery !

Dan frowningly gazed at the indicated trail,
and a belated love of scenery awoke in his heart
too.

"Come on, Olive," he invited, his face clearing,
"let 's explore that path. We 've a good half-
hour before lunch. What do you say?"

Say? She said "Yes!" with haste and delight.
To think that Dan was willing to while away the
picnic hours with his own sister ! Olive's affec-
tionate heart swelled with contentment.

But then it unswelled. For, "Hunt up another
girl to bring along with us, please," ordered Dan.
"She '11 make it less poky."

Right here it must be insisted upon that Olive
was good-natured, frank, and loyal. That this
story concerns itself with a time when she was
not one of the three, is something which can't be
helped. For, at Dan's uncomplimentary fiat
("'poky,' indeed!"), she made up her mind to
"bring along" the very plainest, most durable
girl she could think of. Perhaps that would
waken Dan up to the fact of having worth and
good looks right in his own family ; no need to
"hunt up another girl" !

With the word "durable," a person invariably
thought of Anna Ladd. Olive looked around for
her. Nor was Anna far off, but was leaning
against a near-by tree, examining a bit of its bark.

Olive, her hair in curls, her feet in lace stock-
ings and low shoes, a bead necklace around her
open throat, her best blue challie on, wondered
much why Anna never tried to improve her ap-
pearance by wearing pretty clothes. Anna had
straight hair, no special complexion, a plain face,

and large hands and feet. And, whether wisely
or unwisely, she never tried to disguise these
things. At this moment, her hair was twisted
into two rfeat knobs, one on each side of her
head; her boots were of the high, stout, button
variety ; she wore a short, brown skirt and a long,
brown sweater; and her neck was trimly finished
off with a white collar and a brown bow, like a
man's. The bow might have been her brother
Larry's ; it probably was.

This was the sturdy maiden whom Olive in-
vited. "It 's just Anna," said Olive to Dan. "She
was having such a lonely time by herself," she
added hypocritically.

By now poor Olive had given her own self up
as a bad job, and no longer felt surprised at the
ill speeches which fell from her tongue.

"It was good of you to ask me with you," said
Anna, as they tramped along the winding,
wooded trail. "I 've been wanting to try this
trail all morning, but was afraid."

"What of?" demanded Dan, who knew that
coyotes were very peaceful beasts, and who had
large doubts of the wildcats, and complete doubts
of the rattlesnakes.

"Losing my way," said Anna, promptly.

"In a spot where a trolley-car whizzes past
every half-hour?" was Dan's dry question. Plain
girls were queer, and needed drastic treatment.
They often have to be jolted back to common
sense, which is their one valuable asset.

But Anna showed that she and common sense
were still on good terms.

"Dan," she observed, "every step we take is a
curve, and at this moment, we must have a whole
hillside between us and the trolley-line. We can
no more hear it than see it."

Whistling cheerily to show that stern thoughts
were far from him, Dan strode on, and finally
stopped at a sudden clearing of the underbrush.
The disclosed view of mountains and vales was
magnificent.

"And what do you think of that field?" asked
Dan, casually, the concealed pride of a proprietor
in his tones. The first person to come upon a
grand sight always feels like the owner of it.

The field, lying far below them, was one golden
mass of poppies, California poppies, the sunniest,
most charming flowers in the world. Yellow does
not describe them ; and orange does not describe
them. They glitter like pure gold, and yet are
satiny and soft as baby fingers. One, alone, is a
treasure ; and here was a field of them.

"Let us get armfuls for the lunch table," cried
Olive.

And without hesitation, all three plunged down
the hillside, and were soon wading knee-deep in

I913-]

"JUST ANNA"

197

blossoms. By the time they had gathered flow-
ers enough and were ready to go back to the
picnic ground, they found they had wandered
completely around the poppy field. The hill they
had descended, whichever it was, had become
merged into a dozen others, all alike.

They shouted loudly, hoping to get response
from their comrades, but dead silence was their
only answer. So they had to choose a hill at
random. The sun was no guide, for it was prac-
tically overhead.

"They 're all having lunch," mentioned Dan,
grimly.

Hunger and fear made the ascent anxious.
And the anxiety proved well founded, for, when
the top of the hill was reached, it merely disclosed
a series of other tops, each a little higher and
more remote. Everything was bleakly unfa-
miliar. They had climbed the wrong one.

"We had better go back -to the poppy field and
try again," advised Anna. She was as hungry,
tired, and worried as the other two, but her
practical calmness never left her. It gifted her
with leadership. Dan, generally guide, found
himself taking her counsel, and glad to get it.

But the poppy field was not to be reached a
second time. There is nothing more bewildering
than a range of uniform hills. The three wan-
derers, instead of retracing their steps, only went
farther and farther out of their way. So thick
was the chaparral, and so winding was the trail,
that they never could see more than a few yards
either before them or behind them. Progress
was sheer guesswork. And hunger soon became
more than a trifle.

When, instead of reaching the poppies, they
stumbled into a new valley through which raced
a little brook, Olive broke down and cried ; for
California, in the dry season, is not a land of
many brooks, and the strange sight of this one
accented the fact that they were lost indeed.

Quite as aware of this, Anna Ladd neverthe-
less took comfort where she could.

"Maybe there are fish in the brook, and we can
get something to eat," she hopefully extended.

Which inclined to make Dan angry. He ad-
mired bravery, but he liked it joined to sense.
Given hook, line, bait, rod, sinker, and reel, Dan
would have commended Anna's grit. But how
catch fish with the bare hands? For fish were
there, big, fat, lazy suckers, sulking in the pools.

"Going to charm them out?" asked Dan.

"Yes," said Anna, laughing. She had n't been
a tramper and a camper with Larry for nothing.
"That is, if I can get a strong, invisible string."
She looked carefully over her own person, but
was not repaid by the search. Then she eyed

Olive, gaining hope from a fancy bag which
swung from Olive's belt. "Is that a work-bag?"
she asked. "Is there a spool of silk in it?"

"No," confessed Olive, answering both ques-
tions at once, and answering them with a blush.

"OLIVE BROKE DOWN AND CRIED.

The bag was a vanity bag, holding powder, a
powder-puff, and a hand-mirror. These melan-
choly details she kept to herself, contenting her-
self with the mere "No."

"Then may I destroy part of your necktie?"
asked Anna, politely, of Dan.

The tie, a knitted silk one, in tint of pale green,
was a gift from Maisie. Precious it was indeed,
but food was more precious still. Dan handed
it over without a qualm. Anna swiftly unraveled
it till she had several yards of line.

198

"JUST ANNA'

"Want a bent pin for a hook?" demanded Dan,
sarcastically.

Anna laughed again. She was an expert with
the snare, and had no misgivings of success. And
she was nice enough not to keep the honors to
herself, but shared her knowledge with the
others. She gave them each a length of line with
the proper loop and slip-knot at its end, and she
posted them at clever places on the bank, school-
ing them in the process whereby an unsuspecting
fish has a belt fitted to him, and gets jerked high
and dry by it.

But it is slow work, and a full hour more went
past before the whole catch numbered five. But
five were enough.

"And now for a fire," said Anna, throwing off
her sweater, and preparing to be cook.

Dan frantically searched his pockets.

"I have n't a match," he said tragically.

"Larry never lets me go in the woods without
matches," said Anna, producing a box.

Dan helpfully began to pile logs for a fire.

"Now, don't be idiotic," begged Anna, gently.

Idiotic was a new word for Dan to hear from
a girl.

"Where 's the idiocy?" he asked crisply.

"Right there!" replied Anna, poking away the
logs with her foot. "You can't cook over a big
fire — not without scorching yourself. A little,
tiny fire 's the thing."

"How did you ever learn all this?" asked Olive,
watching wistfully. What were good looks in a
crisis? Worse than nothing.

"Reading boys' books and listening to Larry,"
explained Anna, sharpening some sticks on which
to roast the fish.

"Anna Ladd, put me to work," said Dan, pull-
ing his hands from his pockets, where he had
moodily rammed them. "You are the man of this
expedition, not I. It has made me angry to see
it ; angry with myself, I mean. But I can at least
follow orders."

"There are no orders to follow," said Anna,
gravely. "We are all in a bad box." Her eyes
scanned the lonely hills, the sunny, uncaring hills,
among whose silences men had been known to
wander about, lost, for days at a time. "Well,"
resolutely, "we '11 feel better after we 've eaten.
So help cook this fish, Dan."

To "toast" a fish takes skill and absorbs atten-
tion. The three exiles enjoyed those underdone,
unsalted fish better than any meal of their re-
membrance; and the warm, sandy water of the
brook tasted like iced ambrosia.

"Now, I 'm ready for anything ; on with the
march," said Dan.

But he rose with a limp and wincing.

"And so am I !" declared Olive, standing first
on one foot and then on the other, her face pale
with pain.

"Am I to believe your words or your looks?"
asked Anna.

"I was vain and foolish enough to put on new,
tight shoes," confessed Olive, "and my heels are
rubbed sore."

"Same here," admitted Dan, laconically.

Anna ransacked her wise young head for rem-
edy, and magically dug one up. She made the
sufferers first bathe their inflamed heels in the
brook, and then showed them how to make pro-
tecting cases of paper, supplied by Dan's note-
book.

"And now we 'd better hurry," she advised, her
glance on the sun. "It must be four o'clock." As
she started to put on her sweater, Dan flew to
help her, hoisting her into the air. "But I '11
teach you how to put on a girl's coat, if it 's the
last act of my life," she said firmly, after the
first speechless moment of surprise.

Olive leaned against a tree and laughed hys-
terically, while Dan carefully followed Anna's
directions in etiquette.

"When a thing has to be done, I hate to put it
off," explained Anna, apologizing for her instruc-
tions. "Put-offs pile up so that they frighten a
person into forgetting."

Soon they were on their worried way again,
but at every step gained nothing but an added
sense of bewilderment and dread. Myriads of
low hills circling around myriads of little valleys
like cauldrons,— it seemed as if the whole world
held nothing more. And at last the sun began to
dip down.

"Let us climb to the top of the highest hill we
see," counseled Anna, as a final resource. "It
sounds like a waste of time, but we '11 get a far
view, and may be able to locate ourselves."

For want of a better plan, this one was carried
out, though the ascent taxed their weary muscles
to the utmost ; and the rattlesnake question had
now but the one answer : these massed boulders,
seamed and cracked and overgrown here and
there with tough shrubs, were a snake paradise.
Olive commenced to shrink every time she
stepped through a thicket.

"And I don't know but your fears are sensible,"
said Anna, bethinking herself of something
Larry had told her. "So take up handfuls of
sand and throw it ahead of you into any clump
that looks suspicious. A rattler can't stand it,
and rattles immediately."

Olive took what comfort she could out of this
device, and they reached the top of the hill.

But the view it furnished was but the prospect

'TRY IT FROM HERE,' SAID DAN." (see next PAQE.
199

200

"JUST ANNA"

of vaster silences, of lonelier distances. They
and the sinking sun had the big, quiet world to
themselves.

Olive dropped down into an abject little heap
and again wept.

"I can't help it," she sobbed.

"Dan," said Anna, intensely, her eyes straining
at the farthest hill opposite, a whole wild valley
between, "can't you see an occasional flash of
light over there, almost as if the sun was shining
on a bit of glass?"

"Yes !" cried Dan, at length, as the flash was
repeated. "But what can it be ? We could n't see
the glint from a piece of glass at this distance."

"It 's Larry !" cried Anna. "I 'm sure of it.
But, oh, if I only had a mirror!"

"A mirror?" asked Olive, jumping up, yet not
sufficiently believing her ears to dive into her
vanity bag. "A mirror? A hand-glass?"

"Yes," mourned Anna. "The last thing we 'd
be likely to have !"

"No, indeed !" cried Olive. "Here 's one."
And she produced it from her bag as a wizard
might take a gold watch out of an egg omelet.
"But what 's the use of it?"

With a cry of joy, Anna caught it and began
sending heliograph signals across the valley to
the distant hill opposite. Down its sloping,
wooded side, the tiny flash came occasionally, yet
not in response, merely by accident.

Anna worked faithfully but rather desperately.

"I don't understand much about it," she said
between whiles, as she tried now this angle, now
that. "And it 's almost impossible to work when
the sun 's so low ; but if it 's Larry, and if he sees
me, and if he answers, then we 're all right."

"Try it from here," said Dan, indicating a
change of angle.

The dancing speck of light on the opposite hill
suddenly went out.

"Whoever it is sees me," said Anna, breath-
lessly. "I '11 send my initials, and watch what
happens !"

With trembling care, she flashed her signal
several times across the valley.

The moment of waiting was a tense one. Then
came the answer, two long flashes — L. L. Larry
Ladd.

"Here," said Anna, handing back the glass.
"Thank you. It 's Larry."

"Did you tell him we are lost?" asked Olive,
too hopeful by far.

"No," said Anna, half laughing. "I don't know
the signal code. All I can do is just to telegraph
my initials, and recognize Larry's when they
come back."

"Then how are we helped?" besought Olive.

"Because I know where Larry's corps is to-
day. It 's on Loma Galena. That mountain op-
posite is Loma Galena."

"Loma Galena?" asked Dan, incredulously.
"Right back of our house?"

"Right back of all our houses," answered Anna,
comprehensively. "And what we have to do is to
keep our eyes upon it, and make a bee-line down
into the valley and across."

This they did. But the feat was harder to per-
form than to describe. Now stumbling down
inclines, now struggling up hillsides, always
bruised by the stones and torn by the brambles,
they finally worked themselves into a valley which
owned the blessing of the commonplace. The
first trolley-pole they saw looked as lovely as a
long-lost brother.

Next came the beatific vision of a trolley-car.

They boarded it, and their adventure was over.

"And it 's good it 's dark, we look such sights,"
said Anna.

"We look such sights," amended Olive. She
and Dan had been obliged to cut the heels from
their new shoes. As for fine raiment, that was
torn to shreds. And whatever had come within
reach of the tar-weed was blackened beyond
renovation. Olive's hair was in wisps, her lace in
rags. Half of her beads were on the trail, the
other half were down her back.

Anna's stout shoes looked as well as when she
had started ; her short, clean skirt was still fresh
and clean ; her hair was still in two tidy knobs ;
her collar was trim, and her tie was taut.

Dan thought she was the goodliest sight he had
ever looked upon.

"Why have n't you joined any of our card and
dance clubs ?" he asked her, suddenly.

"Because I 've never been asked," said Anna,
promptly and frankly.

"Consider yourself not only asked but begged,"
said Dan. As president of the societies men-
tioned, his word had weight.

"Consider me a member," accepted Anna,
gladly.

Later, in his own home, on his way to his room
for repairs, Dan leaned for a moment against
Olive's door and gazed interestedly at her tatters,
which she was surveying in the glass.

"That Anna Ladd is just about the finest girl I
know !" he contributed heartily. "When I sized
up my wits against hers, in the thick of the scrim-
mage, I felt like a noddling noodle. A noddling
noodle ! How did you feel ?"

Olive, scoring herself in the mirror, answered
without hesitation.

"Like nineteen of them," was her verdict.

And it meant more than Dan guessed.

THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS.

THE DOCTOR: "WHAT YOU NEED IS REST.'

*TM& A. X • ^WK

I tell mine all to Grandma,

And she tells hers to me ;
And we have just the mostest fun

That ever you did see !

Each time I get a new one,

I whisper in her ear,
And Grandma whispers back again,

And laughs, and says, "Dear ! dear

But I 've one now I have to keep,

I can't tell her, you see.
I wonder — do you s'pose she might

Be keeping one from me?

RUNTY^fB^Gza/tf

BY WALLACE DUNBAR

Bobby sat down on the Hermit's door-step to get
his breath. It was a warm afternoon, and the climb
had been long and steep. Noiselessly the door
behind him opened, and a tall, thin, gray man
looked down at the little boy.

"Well," said he, in anything but a friendly tone,
"what do you want?"

Bobby jumped a little, but only from surprise.
"How do you do?" he replied, politely removing
his cap. "I 'm Bobby Wentworth, and we 're at
the hotel down below, and I 've come to call."

"I never have callers," said the man, more
gently.

"I know," replied Bobby, "that 's why I came.
They said you 'd been up here alone years and
years and years; so I thought you might like to
see me a little while."

For an instant, the man's stern features re-
laxed, as though he would smile but had forgotten
how.

"I 've heard that they call me the 'Hermit'
down there, — the 'Hermit of Hemlock Hill.'
Are n't you afraid of me?"

"No," said Bobby, contemptuously. "You don't
look bad— you just look tired."

The Hermit sighed as he swung the door wide
open and sat down beside Bobby. "That 's all,"
he agreed; "I 'm just tired. Tired in my heart.
Now, as you 've had a stiff climb, and as I was
just about to take a late luncheon, suppose we
have it out here together, in the shade of the
porch, where it 's cool ?"

So saying, the Hermit brought out a blue plate

piled high with slices of just-baked bread, a squat
silver pitcher of molasses, and a stone jug of icy
milk.

"Now, when I get two plates, two knives and
forks, two china mugs, and the butter," said he,
"we '11 be all ready."

Ten minutes later, Bobby looked up from
spreading his fourth slice of bread, and said :
"This is awfully good bread for you to make all
by yourself. But I s'pose you 've had centuries
and centuries to learn in."

"At least it seems so to me/' replied the Her-
mit, gravely.

"Were you here in the days of the giants?"
asked Bobby, eagerly.

"Well," said the Hermit, reflectively, "I might
tell you about a boy-giant I once knew, — unless
you don't care for stories."

"Oh," cried the boy, his eyes dancing in delight-
ful anticipation, "there 's nothing I care for as
much !"

So this is what the Hermit told Bobby, as they
sat in the shade, on the top of Hemlock Hill, eat-
ing just-baked bread with molasses, and sipping
mugs of icy milk :

"Early one spring morning, ages ago, I was
awakened by a violent knocking — not on the door,
but on the roof. Getting into my clothes with
some difficulty— for I 'd been sick a long time—
I came outside, and found a giant bending over
the house, and about to knock again. He was
nearly as tall as that old pine there. I remem-

204

RUNTY, THE BOY-GIANT

ber that as one of his feet nearly covered this
little front yard, the other spread over the road.

" 'What are you trying to do,' I called, 'smash
my roof in?'

" 'Oh, there you be!' he exclaimed, after peer-
ing all over this part of the township for me.
'No, indeed ! I 've been tryin' not to. I came to
see if you did n't need a boy to help on the farm.'

" 'Well, suppose I do,' said I, rather nettled at
being roused up in this manner. 'You have n't
happened to bring one in your pocket, have you?'

cover. As for rations, I '11 feed myself. There 's
deer, and such small fry, for the pickin', a couple
of hundred miles above here, and I can step over
there and get a bite any time.'

"The outcome of it was that I took the boy on
trial for a month. He said his name was Runty.
They called him that because he was the only
short member of his family. You see, he was a
hundred and fifty years old— in sixty years more
he 'd be of age— and, though he 'd been growing
such a long time, he only came to his father's belt.

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO,' I CALLED, 'SMASH MY KOOF IN?'

" 'I 'm wantin' to hire out myself,' he explained,
good-naturedly smiling at my temper. 'I 'm only
a boy, I know, but I 've helped Dad with the
chores since I was no higher 'n your barn. And
I '11 come for my board and keep.'

" 'Your board and keep,' I repeated sarcas-
tically. 'The house and barn together would n't
hold much more than those feet of yours; and all
I raise in a year would make you about three
good meals !'

" 'That 's all right, mister,' replied the giant,
complacently, sitting down on that hill opposite,
in order to see me better; 'by openin' both doors,
I can get my head in the barn, and that pasture
next will make a fine bed. I never take cold
sleepin' outdoors, so long as my head 's under

"The next day, I told him to plow that two-acre
corn-field. I stayed in the house to finish some
writing I wished to get off. In a moment he
called me. I found him standing in the road,
with the plow under one arm, the work harness
under the other, and a frantically struggling horse
in either hand.

" 'I can't get this outfit together,' he said, mildly
bewildered. 'I laid the hosses on their backs on
my lap, and tried to harness 'em; but the buckles
are too small for my fingers. I can't do nothin'
with 'em !'

"Of course he could n't. I had no right to
blame him, but it meant leaving my desk and
harnessing and hitching up, myself. 'Now go
on,' said I, 'and don't call me if you can help it'

'"I CAN'T GET THIS OUTFIT TOGETHER,' HE SAID, MILDLY BEWILDERED.

205

RUNTY, THE BOY-GIANT

[Jan.

THERE WAS THE HOY LEANING U\ER THE UNROOFED BARN.

"Just as I lost myself in my work again, there
came another call. I went out in a bad temper.
'Now what 's the matter?' I called.

"Runty was down on his knees beside the field,
holding the plow-handles between one thumb and
finger, and urging on the team with the other
hand. He looked overheated and exasperated.

" 'See here, boss,' he cried, 'this is breakin' my
back and nothin' but foolin'. I can't scratch up
this little plot with these crazy little hosses and
this toy plow in a year ! Why, if I 'd only
brought my spadin'-fork and rake, I could get
this little spot ready for plantin' in ten minutes.'

"I saw how it was. It was plainly a case of a
man being too big for his job. I had to leave my
writing and do the plowing myself. I sent Runty
into the woods for fuel.

"Before I 'd worked fifteen minutes, Runty
came back with about forty big sugar-maples un-
der his arm that he 'd pulled up by the roots.

" 'What made you go and ruin my sugar-bush ?'
I shouted. 'There are plenty of other trees, and
those are the best I had !'

" 'Why, the rest of 'em was n't no bigger 'n
toadstools are where I come from,' he explained.
T '11 just break these up in little pieces, and
leave 'em in a nice pile behind the woodshed.'

"I tell you, Bobby, I was almost ready to dis-
charge that boy ! But he was so willing and
cheerful that I hated to send him away so soon.
'Maybe he '11 do something except cause me work
and loss, after a while,' I thought.

"Worn out with the plowing, I put up the
horses and told Runty to feed and bed them. A
ripping and tearing sound brought me to the door
the next minute, and there was the boy leaning
over the unroofed barn, dropping a pinch of oats
into Dobbin's manger.

" 'It was so hard gettin' my hand around to the
pesky little stalls,' he calmly explained, 'that I
just pulled off the roof so 's I can see 'em and get
to 'em. I '11 fix it on for to-night with a bit of
wire, and to-morrow I '11 put on some hinges,
so 's I can lift it up and down all right.'

"For some minutes, I was too exasperated to
speak, and just stood there and watched him
fasten on the barn roof with two hundred feet or
so of barbed wire. When I could speak, I dis-
charged him with the sharpest kind of words.
And do you know, Bobby, he was so sorry to lose
his first place, that he sat on the ridge of that
mountain and cried till that low field was all
awash. In fact, you can see, over beyond that
clump of trees, there 's a fair-sized pond there yet.

I9I3-]

RUNTY, THE BOY-GIANT

207

"I called out to him to be a man and make the
best of it, and came into the house. Having
Runty help me farm had tired me out so that I
lay down on the old couch there, and fell asleep.

"I dreamed that, instead of being a lone hermit
on Hemlock Hill, I was the captain of the Nancy
Ann; and that I was stretched out upon a locker
in my little cabin, lazily listening to the water
lapping against the sides of the boat. Then there
came the sound of hurried oars, and something
bumped against the Nancy Ann— no, against the
hermitage ; for I woke to see a punt floating in
that doorway ! In it were the Widow Small and
her two boys, Rather and Very, who had come
to warn me that before long the water would
reach my second story. As it was, the couch was
a foot from the ceiling when I floated out of the
door.

"We scrambled to the roof of the barn, and sat
there in a row, waiting for Runty to stop crying.
While I felt sorry for the boy's disappointment,
and remembered that old folk tell young ones
that a good cry will do them good, nevertheless I
did wish his tears would stop flowing down the
mountain before my stock was all drowned.

"The sun kept going down, until it began to
disappear right behind Runty's knees. The water'
kept creeping up, until it almost touched the soles
of my carpet-slippers. If I drew up my feet, I
was liable to go over backward ; so I sat watch-

ing the ripples that spread outward from the
mountain with each sob the boy gave. Just as I
was wondering if boy-giants ever cried all night.
Runty gave one big, loud sob that sent a tidal
wave over my ankles— and stopped crying. While
we were anxiously yelling all sorts of cheery
words at him, he sat still with his face in his
hands, too downcast to move.

"At last he braced up, and dried his eyes on a
bandana not quite as large as the big top at the
circus, and said good-by.

" 'I '11 hurry right home,' he said, 'for Dad and
Mom are prob'bly worried about me now; and, if
it gets any darker, the first thing I know I '11 be
steppin' on some of them little villages and
crushin' 'em all to bits.' "

"And you never saw Runty again?" asked Bobby,
who had scarcely taken a long breath throughout
the telling.

"Never again," said the man. "I 've had no
one worse than gnomes and pigwidgeons to help
me since then. They 've told me many a tale of
the boy's adventures — for he was an ambitious
lad, and never gave up trying to make himself
useful. But, as Runty observed, it 's getting
dark. So, give me your hand, Bobby, and I '11
go with you as far as the hotel grounds."

And down Hemlock Hill went the Hermit and
the boy, in the glow of the sinking sun.

WAITING FOR RUNTY TO
STOP CRYING."

A MERRY CHRISTMAS

BY A. L. SYKES

Bright and early to Grandma's house,

We went to spend the day ;
But snow came down, still as a mouse,

And so we had to stay.

And when the Christmas morning came,

It found us waiting there.
The shining snow was white and high,

And drifts were everywhere.

We feared that Santa could not come;

We had no Christmas tree,
And so we did the dearest thing

That ever you did see :

We hung a tree out by the porch

With corn and bread— red apples, too;
And called the birds, and said to them :
"We 've made this Christmas tree for you.

They came in flocks — they came in crowds,

And stayed to sing, and eat, and play.
It seemed to me that they all said :
"Thank you; we like our Christmas Day!'

fefeXONQVERORS

A curly-headed youngster of six stood on the
deck of the big ship. Across the blue water had
faded from sight the land of India, where he
had left his young, widowed mother, and all that
was dear to babyhood and life. Before him
loomed a strange English school and a strange
aunt. When the little boy knelt down at night
to pray, he would ask God to make him dream of
his mother, and let him see again, if only in his
sleep, those gray eyes full of light. The thoughts
that struggled in his child-heart, however, were
not trusted to the black servant beside him, or
even to the other little boy, Richmond Shakspear,
who, like him, was leaving his India home. No-
body would understand those puzzling thoughts.
Locked away very deep in William Makepeace
Thackeray's young heart lay the memory of part-
ing,— the old ghaut, or river stair, which led
down to the boat ; the quaver in his mother's
voice ; the blur in his sight and the choke in his
throat ; and of those strange good-bys. Perhaps
there floated, too, in his tender memory, a vision
of his own portrait painted some years before
in far-away Calcutta : a white-dressed, round-
eyed boy of three perched on a pile of big books,
with his arms clasped round his mother's neck.
Such a beautiful, tall mother for a little boy to
sail away from to find that queer thing called
"education." But he was sailing farther and far-
ther every minute, under the long reach of sky.
At last, one morning, after many days, they
came in sight of the rock-bound island of St.
Helena, rising out of the sea like a great gray
cone ; and, harbored there, the black servant took
the two boys ashore to see a famous French
soldier. After they had gone a long way over
rocks and hills, they came to a garden where a
Vol. XL.— 27.

man with folded arms and bowed head was walk-
ing among the flowers. "There he is," said the
black man; "that is Bonaparte. He eats three

gsawaf

"'THERE HE IS. THAT IS BONAPARTE.

sheep every day, and all the little children he can
lay his hands on." The cherry-cheeked William

209

210

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

did not know what a plump, tempting morsel of
a child he was; but it seemed wise, just then, to
let this ogre of a Frenchman have the island to
himself, and for him and Richmond and their
black guardian to continue their voyage. And
so there were more long days of blue water and
sky, and of sailing on and on, till, finally, they
reached England. This did not seem at all a
cheerful place to the two boys : flags were flying
at half-mast, and there was black on everything,
for the whole country was in mourning for Prin-
cess Charlotte, who had died November 6, 1817.

William's aunt, however, took him immediately
into her large love, and watched over him with a
mother's tenderness. How frightened she was
when she found out that the child's head was big
enough for his uncle's hat ! A good doctor told
her, though, not to worry over that head, for
it had "a great deal in it." Part of the time,
Thackeray lived with this aunt, Mrs. Ritchie, at
Chiswick, and part with a great-uncle at Hadley.
In the meantime, his young mother had not for-
gotten her only child. She had married again, a
Colonel Smythe of India, and now she and her
husband, whom Thackeray, later, loved deeply,
returned to England, and the little boy was so
glad to see them that he could not speak. This
was in 1822, when Thackeray was eleven years
old, the same year that he entered the famous
Charterhouse school.

From Thackeray's own account and his "Doc-
tor" in "Pendennis," we can imagine his first
impressions of Charterhouse, and his feelings to-
ward the principal, whose name he has grace-
fully changed. As the child entered with his
shining, fresh face and his shining, white collar,
Dr. Crushall thundered out in a "big, brassy
voice," "Take that boy and his box to Mrs. Jones,
and make my compliments to Mr. Smiler, and tell
him the boy knows nothing, and will just do for
the lowest form." As far as lessons went, the
boy never knew a great deal ; but "he read any-
thing he could lay his hands on ; he acted when
he had the chance; he debated." His friends
thought of him as a broad-set, lazy child, with
rosy cheeks, dark hair, and blue eyes, all- a-twin-
kle. When he should have been working sums,
he was generally covering his books and papers
with comical drawings, which he "chucked about"
among his schoolmates. His power of mimicry
and sense of fun were so tremendous that no
teacher was safe from his perfect imitation, his
unmistakable caricatures, or his ridicule in verse.
There were some verses on "Violets, dark blue
violets" which young Thackeray cleverly paro-
died in "Cabbages, bright green cabbages," re-
citing the lines in tenderly sentimental tones.

Like many others, Thackeray was a home-
longing boy, who, except for the fun he made out
of work and the friends he made through his fun,
found the holidays the best things at Charter-
house. "There are 370 in the school," he wrote
to his mother. "I wish there were only 369 !"
And another time, wistfully, "Valentine's Day,
but I have had no valentines. Dr. Russell has
been fierce to-day." Once the doctor went so far
as to storm, "You are a disgrace to the school
and to your family, and I have no doubt will
prove so in after life to your country !"

Yet here at the Charterhouse, Thackeray made
some lifelong friends: his cousin Richmond
Shakspear, Alfred Gatty, George Venables, and
John Leech, who, when he grew up, became the
humorous artist of "Punch." How well he re-
membered "small John Leech, coming first to
school and being put up upon a table, in a little
blue jacket and high buttoned trousers, and made
to sing to the other boys, as they stood round-
about." Still better he remembered George
Venables. One wet half-holiday, a boy named
Glossip went to the monitor to ask leave for
Thackeray and Venables to fight. That was an
unlucky day for William, whose middle name
was Makepeace. Into the battle he went with all
zeal, and out of it he came with a broken nose.
Far from treasuring ill feeling against his van-
quisher, however, he and George Venables were
friends forever more.

Drawing, acting, studying, Thackeray spent six
years in the Charterhouse. After that, he lived
with his parents near Ottery St. Mary, in Devon-
shire, reading such books as the vicar could lend
him. The next year he entered Trinity College,
Cambridge, the same fitful student, hating mathe-
matics and adorning the pages of his note-book
"with pen-and-ink drawings." In his one attempt
at writing, a poem in competition for the Chan-
cellor's medal, he was beaten by his friend Al-
fred Tennyson. With the feeling that he was
wasting time on studies useless in life, Thack-
eray left the university in the spring of 1830.
The best that he got from the college were his
friends : Brookfield, Fitz Gerald, Monckton Milnes,
and Alfred Tennyson; the worst was a taste for
gambling, which shortly led to sad misfortune.

Since Thackeray was now amply supplied with
money, he decided to complete his education by
travel, beginning his foreign studies at Weimar,
Germany, where he seems to have lain on the
sofa, read novels, and dreamed. Enough has
been said to show that, like many other artists,
he had not the temperament for steady, hard
work. Nevertheless, in November, 1831, urged
by his parents to study law, he returned to Eng-

'TELL HIM THE BOY KNOWS NOTHING.'"

211

212

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[Jan.

land, and entered the Middle Temple for that
purpose. At first he seemed to look forward
happily to practising at the bar ; but soon he
found dry law-books very hard reading. So it
happened that as soon as he became of age, July
18, 1832 (the day for which he had "panted so
long," and the day on which he inherited his
father's fortune), the first thing he did was to
give up the study of law. "I can draw better
than I can do anything else," he said to himself,
and took his way to Paris, to "make believe to be
a painter." Here, while he was out-of-doors, he
lived the free life that he afterward described in
writing of Clive Newcome; but, at other times,
he might have been seen, day after day, copying
pictures in the Louvre, honestly trying to excel
in the art he loved. As a side interest, he corre-
sponded for the Paris papers.

His history now led to a combination of fail-
ures, which, while they were a loss in money,
were a gain in common sense and application. In
the false hope of good luck, Thackeray had gam-
bled with his newly acquired wealth, at an im-
mense loss, and, generally, "made a gaby" of
himself. Before long the bank in India failed.
Then the paper failed in which he and his step-
father had mutual interests. This last failure
came when Thackeray was twenty-five, just six
months after his marriage. As he said, it made
him "work for bread"— the best thing that could
have happened. Now he attempted to illustrate
"Pickwick Papers," but his drawings were re-
fused; and again the would-be-artist faced fail-
ure, and wondered what other line of work he
might try. It seems good to the book-reading
world that, even in Thackeray's extremity, his
drawings were refused, and that marriage and
poverty and failure forced him to be an author.
Before we turn, however, from his artist to his
author life, let us mark that he was "the only
great author who illustrated his own books." As
he once said, when he was sick, "The artist who
usually illustrates my works fell ill with myself."

In his earliest writings, Thackeray so lacked
confidence that he published his work anony-
mously. He masked as "Titmarsh," "Theophile
Wagstafr," "Fitz-Boodle," "Yellowplush," "Spec,"
"Major Gahagan," and many others, shyly hiding
his own face. And yet, no matter how much
he doubted his ability— and he did doubt it— in
favor of success were his robust health, his strong
brain, and his powerful love. With the high
motive of caring for a dear wife, any real man
could rally from a money defeat, and Thackeray
was not the one to be depressed by little things.
From now on, constitutionally idle though he
was, he worked night and day for those he loved,

beating out his rhymes "titumtidy, titumtidy" ;
toiling at the stale old desk; writing "The New-
comes," not for fame, but for that other entirely
worthy object, money; and, slowly and with great
difficulty, grinding out "Barry Lyndon."

Two years after he and his wife had faced the
hardships of poverty together, he wrote: "Here
have we been two years married, and not a single
unhappy day. ... I feel in my heart a kind of
overflowing thanksgiving which is quite too great
to describe in writing."

It is good he saw the sunlight through the
showers, for there was real darkness ahead for
both. Only the next year, their second child,
their precious baby, died. Long after, in a kind
of broken cry, Thackeray spoke of "that bitter,
bitter grief."

And yet this sorrow, great as it was, could be
shared. A year later fell a greater sorrow which
he had to bear alone — his wife's sickness, which
was more than sickness, for she was slowly losing
her mind. Only Thackeray's best friends knew
how he clung to her companionship, and how he
fought for her cure. He tried to nurse her him-
self. As he said, he "used to walk out three
miles to a little bowling-green and write there
in an arbor, coming home and wondering what
was the melancholy oppressing the poor little
woman" ; and, looking back on life, "What a deal
of cares and pleasures and struggles and happi-
ness I have had since that day in the little sun-
shiny arbor." In a vain hope to save her, he
took her home to Ireland and her people, and
then went from one watering-place to another,
until, finally, there was nothing to do but place
her in a private asylum in Paris.

At the beginning of the trouble, the little
London home on Great Coram Street had been
broken up, and the two children, Annie, a "fat
lump of pure gold," and Baby Minnie, had been
sent to live with their Grandmother Butler in
Paris. They stayed there for some time after
Thackeray had lost in the battle for his wife's
reason ; while the lonely father lodged near the
asylum, first in one place, then in another, once
more a bachelor except for his burden of love.
Yet, again, only his closest friends began to know
how deeply the sorrow had hewn itself into his
life ; he wore a smile for the outer world, and
still sent playful letters to his children, though
they were sometimes written in a trembling hand.

One of his truest friends, Fitz Gerald, was
constant with long, cheerful letters, and, thinking
that drawing might distract the poor man more
than writing, recommended him widely as an
illustrator ; and begged his friends to buy copies
of " 'The Second Funeral of Napoleon,' as each

I9I3-]

A MODERN GREATH'EART

213

copy puts sevenpence halfpenny into Thackeray's
pocket, which is not very heavy just now."

Fitz Gerald was right. For a while, even
sevenpence halfpenny counted with his home-
loving, homeless friend. Visions of empty mugs

r\*2

THACKERAY OFFERING THE GINGERBREAD

must have haunted the dear man ; he drove him-
self through his tasks "for beef and mutton," and
was very busy, writing" hard every day, and very
poor, nevertheless.

Just as soon as he was able to do so, late in the
autumn of 1846, he moved to 13 Young Street,
in London, and brought his babies there to live.

We can imagine him, a sort of giant of a man,
"six feet two, and largely built," standing once
more before his own fire, his feet spread wide,
his hands crammed deep into his pockets, a smile
on that pleasant face, and a twinkle shining be-
hind the glasses; or, perhaps,
as holding Annie on his broad
lap and teaching her to read
from the funny alphabet-
pictures he had made. For
both children he used to tear
out processions of paper pigs
with curly tails. The com-
panionship of his little girls
was the dearest thing he had
left now. As they grew
older, he stole many happy
holidays to take them to
plays or to children's parties,
which were often held at the
Dickens's. He loved to see
"the little ones dancing in a
ring," especially his own, one
with her "hair plaited in two
tails," and the other with
curls and the "most fascinat-
ing bows of blue ribbon."
Still better, he loved to take
them driving in the country
or to the Zoo. It put him in
"such chirping spirits to get
out of London." As for the
Zoo, they used to "amuse
themselves in finding like-
nesses to their friends in many
of the animals." "Thank
'E'v'ns !" Thackeray once ex-
claimed, "both of the girls
have plenty of fun and hu-
mor."

was the memory of the dar-
ling who slept beneath the grass and stars, that
led him, in 1853, to adopt a third daughter, Amy
Crowe, the child of one of his friends. At any rate,
he did adopt her, and made her his own forever.
During his student days at Weimar, when he
was hardly more than a boy, one of his chief
delights had been to make caricatures for chil-

214

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[Jan.

dren, and, years later, he ~gan the drawings for
"The Rose and the Ring, because his little girls
had wanted pictures of the king and queen in
"Twelfth Night." It was while they were travel-
ing in Naples, when an attack of scarlatina kept
the children indoors and away from their friends,
that the story grew to fit the pictures. It was writ-
ten with the famous gold pen. In referring to this
time, Thackeray said that he wrote "nonsensical
fairy tale" instead of collecting material for "The
Newcomes." All his life, though, his chief desire
had been to write "something good for children."
As soon as he had "made a competence" for his
own "young ones," he had determined to do
something "for the pleasure of young ones in
general."

Our minds are full of pictures of the kind old
"giant" happy with little children. Now he bends
over a small, yellow head; now he simply stands
still to watch a child nibble the gingerbread-man
he has tucked into her hand, his spectacles grow-
ing misty at her rapture of surprise. But he is
gone without thanks ! Once, while he was in
America, a little girl who was too small to see
a procession, found herself suddenly lifted by
strong arms, and placed on a high, broad shoul-
der. Some days after, when that child was out
walking with her mother, she stopped still as she
saw Thackeray coming, and, pointing an eager
finger, exclaimed: "There he is; there 's my big
Englishman !" That same Englishman wrote,
from New Orleans, that the colored children
"ruined him in five-cent pieces." On the train
for Heidelberg, he made friends with the "two
children in black" described in "The Roundabout
Papers"— the real account of a real holiday taken
with his "little girls." How often he sat among
his friends' children asking by name for all their
dolls ! Once he stopped a procession of school-
girls, saying, "Four and twenty little girls!
They must have four and twenty bright little
sixpences." And, going over the names at
Charterhouse on Founder's Day, he would ex-
claim, "Here 's the son of dear old So-and-So ;
let 's go and tip him." As he told Dickens, he
could "never see a boy without wanting to give
him a sovereign." "Ah ! my dear sir," he wrote
in a Roundabout Paper, "if you have any little
friends at school, go and see them, and do the
natural thing by them. You won't miss the sov-
ereign. Don't fancy they are too old— try 'em."
And again, "It is all very well to say that boys
contract habits of expecting tips. Fudge ! Boys
contract habits of tart and toffee-eating which
they do not carry into after life. On the con-
trary, I wish I did like tarts and toffee."

A pretty story is told of him when he was once

invited, by a family of children, to stay to dinner.
"There is nothing, my dears, you can give me,"
he argued, "for I could only eat a chop of a
rhinoceros or a slice from an elephant."

"Yes, I tan," answered a little girl of three,
and off she trotted, coming back in a few mo-
ments with a wooden rhinoceros and a wooden
elephant from her Noah's ark.

"Ah, little rogue," exclaimed the great man,
"you already know the value of a kiss." Then,
taking her in his arms, "he asked for a knife and
fork, smacked his lips," and "pretended" to eat
the dinner she had brought.

With children he was always playful, like this,
but when he just stood by to see children, espe-
cially when they sang, — for he was passionately
fond of music, — their young quaverings filled his
old heart, and choked his voice, and flooded his
eyes with tears. "Children's voices charm me
so," he said, "that they set all my sensibilities
in a quiver." Once he entered a school-room just
as the children were singing, in sweetly tuneless
notes, "O Paradise, O Paradise." "I cannot
stand this any longer," he mumbled to the teacher,
turning away his head and moving toward the
door. "My spectacles are getting very dim."

"There is one day in the year," he wrote,
"when I think St. Paul's presents the noblest sight
in the whole world : when five thousand charity
children, with cheeks like nosegays, and sweet,
fresh voices, sing the hymn which makes every
heart thrill with praise and happiness. I have
seen a hundred grand sights in the world— coro-
nations, Parisian splendors, Crystal Palace open-
ings—but think in all Christendom there is no
such sight as Children's Day."

It is strange beyond believing that so many
have called this tender-hearted man a sneering
faultfinder and a harsh critic of his fellow-men.
The glad tips to round-cheeked school-boys, the
sovereigns hidden in books or laid on white pil-
lows, seem all forgotten. "Make us laugh," cried
the people, "or you and your children starve !"
That was Thackeray's own feeling. "What funny
things I 've written when fit to hang myself !"
he said, for very sadness losing "sight of the
text" under his eyes; and this is the testimony
of the famous gold pen :

I 've helped him to pen many a line for bread,

To joke, with sorrow aching in his head,

And make your laughter when my own heart bled.

To be sure, Thackeray, himself, laughed at all
falsity, and laughed heartily; he could not endure
an affected person or a person who posed ; he had
to have a man all-honest like himself. And be-
cause he laughed at life's shams, some of the

J9I3-]

A MODERN GREATHEART

215

people who heard him laugh forgot his wonderful
sympathy.

Thackeray said that his characters made them-
selves, and that they acted without his interfer-
ence. "I don't control my characters. I am in

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

their hands," he repeatedly declared. When a
friend asked him why he made Esmond marry
Lady Castleivood, he answered, perfectly serious,
"I did n't make him do it ; they did it them-
selves." Yet "Henry Esmond" was the one novel
for which he drew up a plot. Favorite that it
was, he said, "I stand by this book, and am will-
ing to leave it where I go, as my card." For the
most part, however, he doubted his own ability,
and believed that his books were failures, com-
menting with such impersonal frankness as, ''I
have just read such a stupid part of 'Pendennis.'
But how well written it is !"

His characters' ho^ s were as real to him as
his own, and their troubles almost as real. The
tax-collector, coming in one day, found him cry-
ing over the death of Helen Pendennis. "She
had to die," he said, though his little daughter
Minnie had begged him to "make
her well again."

His sympathy for flesh-and-
blood people was, of course, even
greater than his sympathy for
book-people. When he was edi-
tor of "The Cornhill Magazine,"
he really suffered over the sad
letters of many who dreamed that
they could write. "Here is a case
put with true female logic. T am
poor ; I am good ; I am ill ; I
work hard ; I have a sick mother
and hungry brothers and sisters
dependent on me. You can help
us if you will.' " Such letters
wrung the kind editor's heart, and
no one knows how often he an-
swered by his own personal
check. No one knows, either,
how much valuable time he spent
in trying to frame replies at once
honest and tender. Some of the
contributors asked for criticisms ;
others even asked him to rewrite,
if he could not understand, their
nonsense. In fact, the editorship
of the "Cornhill" wore Thackeray
out. With great relief, in 1862,
he resigned.

And if you would know Thack-
eray's generosity, read any of the
warm praises he heaped on his
great rival Charles Dickens.
When "Pendennis" was coming
out, Thackeray advised his friends
to get "David Copperfield." "By
Jingo ! it 's beautiful — and the
reading of the book has done
another author a great deal of good." " 'Pick-
wick' is a capital book," he said ungrudg-
ingly. "It is like a glass of good English ale."
And again, " 'Boz' is capital this month, some
very neat, pretty, natural writing indeed, better
than somebody else's again." . . . "Long mayest
thou, O 'Boz,' reign over thy comic kingdom !"
"All children ought to love Dickens," he wrote
most heartily of all. "I know two that do, and
read his books ten times for once they peruse
the dismal preachments of their father. I know
one who, when she is happy, reads 'Nicholas
Nickleby' ; when she is unhappy, reads 'Nickleby' ;

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MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[Jan.,

when she is tired, reads 'Nicholas Nickleby' ;
when she is in bed, reads 'Nicholas Nickleby' ;
when she has nothing to do, reads 'Nicholas
Nickleby' ; and when she has finished the book,
reads 'Nicholas Nickleby' again. This candid
young critic, at ten years of age, said : 'I like
Mr. Dickens's books better than your books,
Papa,' and frequently expressed her desire that

taken the trip to America, hating the miles of
ocean between himself and home; hating still
more the horror of speaking before an audience.
Like Irving, he had an inborn timidity ; he had
often broken down in trying to make a public
speech. An hour before one of these lectures,
he besought a friend, "Don't leave me— I 'm sick
at my stomach with fright." To strengthen his

'THE LAST SHEET OF "THE VIRGINIAN!*" HAS JUST GONE TO THE PRINTER!'

the latter author should write a book like one
of Mr. Dickens's books. Who can ?" Failing as
Thackeray did as illustrator, he wrote of a volume
of Leech's drawings, "This book is better than
plum-cake at Christmas" ; and so we could quote
for many pages. Magnanimous, "mighty of heart
and mighty of mind," Thackeray lived his belief
that there was room in the world for many great
men. "What, after all, does it matter," he asks,
"who is first or third in such a twopenny race?"

This was his spirit toward all his rivals. In
Anne's diary we read of his failure in the elec-
tion to the House of Commons: "Papa came
home beaten, in capital spirits." And we know
that he shook his opponent's hand, with all his
big heartiness. When he found that his "very
two nights" for lecturing in Baltimore had been
chosen by a large opera company, he exclaimed :
"They are a hundred wanting bread, — shall we
grudge them a little of the butter off ours ?"

Yet Thackeray bitterly needed the money from
those lectures, that is, he needed it for his wife
and children. For them and them alone, he had

voice, he had recited the multiplication table to
a waiter in a restaurant ; but how could he
strengthen his courage ? Night after night, that
attack of fear -returned ; and night after night,
the beloved giant went through his painful task,
for money for the children. When at last he
sailed for England, he went off in a rush, the
very morning he saw the ship advertised. It was
easier to scribble, "Good-by, Fields ; good-by,
Mrs. Fields; God bless everybody, says W. M. T.,"
than to utter that hard farewell. Thackeray
reached the Europa at the cry, "Hurry up, she 's
starting!" Let us sail on with him.

From his own "White Squall" we get a peep into
his home-seeking heart, on days of storm at sea :

I thought, as day was breaking,
My little girls were waking,
And smiling, and making
A prayer at home for me.

His daughter Anne lets us welcome him with the
family : "My sister and I sat on the red sofa in
the little study, and shortly before the time we

I9I3-]

A MODERN GREATHEART

217

had calculated he might arrive, came a little ring
at the front door-bell. My grandmother broke
down; my sister and I rushed to the front door,
only we were so afraid that it might not be he
that we did not dare to open it, and there we
stood, until a second and much louder ring
brought us to our senses. 'Why did n't you open
the door?' said my father, stepping in, looking
well, broad, and upright, laughing. In a moment
he had never been away at all."

His greeting at another time, from the .dog,
Gumbo, is hardly less picturesque. When the
little black-and-tan saw the cab driving up the
street with Thackeray inside, "with one wild
leap from the curbstone, he sprang" into the
carriage and landed safe on his master's knees,
"knocking off his spectacles, and licking his face
all over."

Through the eyes of other folks we see him in
all these ways — the beneficent, tender-hearted
man "whose business was to 'joke and jeer.' "
And we like to thumb his old letters, filled as they
are with comic pictures and with purposely mis-
spelled words (to be pronounced lispingly or
Englishly or through the nose, for Thackeray was
as whimsical as Charles Lamb). "Did you 2 have
a nice T?" is characteristic, and such signatures
as "Bishop of Mealy Potatoes," "Yours Distract-
edly, Makepeace," "G. B. Y.l" (for God bless
you ! ) , or any of a hundred others.

Since this "big Cornish giant" loved his meals,
of course we would rather dine with him than
read his letters; but we must take our chances
with all his other friends of his missing his ap-
pointment. He once neglected a dinner with a
"very eminent person" because he saw beans
and bacon on the menu of the Reform Club, —
his grounds for declining the dinner being "he
had just met a very old friend whom he had not
seen for years, and from whom he could not tear
himself." Another time he was late to a dinner
when he, himself, was host. The guests waited
and waited ; no Thackeray. At last, when the
dinner was half-spoiled, he bounded in, clapping
his still inky hands, and shouting, "Thank
Heaven, the last sheet of 'The Virginians' has
just gone to the printer !"

With J. T. Fields, we see him lunching on
American oysters, rejecting a large one because
"it resembled the High Priest's servant's ear that
Peter cut off," and then opening his mouth very

wide for another. After that had slipped down,
and Fields asked him how he felt, "Profoundly
grateful," Thackeray gulped, "and as if I had
swallowed a baby."

It was in just such convivial spirits that Thack-
eray was dearest to his friends, and his Christ-
mas-nature was the last they expected to lose on
the day before Christmas, 1863, when all England
was gay with holly. Thackeray, himself, must
have had warnings ; but he never hinted them to
any one. He was a little weary and a good deal
shrunken, but, on the whole, his old happy self.
A few days before he died, he sent a hand-painted
sketch of a singing robin to Milnes (a farewell
full of joy). But he said no good-bys to his fam-
ily, and when he left them on the last night, it was
in just the old, tender way. Alone, early in the
morning, his great soul was carried to a greater
world.

That evening the mournful news was brought
to the meeting of Thackeray's fellow-workers on
the English comic journal "Punch." "I '11 tell you
what we '11 do,"one said, "we '11 sing the dear old
boy's 'Mahogany Tree' ; he 'd like it." And so
they all stood up, their choking voices missing
the brave, sweet tenor of their friend, and their
hearts needing his warmth; but they all stood up
and sang, as best they could, Thackeray's own
well-known words :

Christmas is here:
Winds whistle shrill,
Icy and chill,—
Little care we ;

Here let us sport,
Boys, as we sit ;
Laughter and wit
Flashing so free.

Life is but short ;
When we are gone,
Let them sing on
Round the old tree!

In Kensal Green cemetery, a few steps from
Leech, co-worker and fun-maker on "Punch,"
Thackeray lies asleep. The English ivy grows
thick over his grave, clothing his place of rest
with a summer mantle, and keeping his memory
alive beneath the snow. His friend Lord Hough-
ton was very angry because no room was made
for Thackeray in Westminster Abbey. Happily
our greatness is not measured by our graves, but
by our monuments in human hearts.

Vol. XL.— 28.

I used to like the June days best, but that was back in June ;

And then it seemed that August was the best of all the year;
Along came crisp October, and I sang another tune ;

December 's now my favorite — oh, just because it 's here!
jH The June days are joy days,

That bring the end of school,
And August days are boy days,
HE For swimming in the pool;
October days are sport days,

When down the ripe nuts fall-
December days are short days,
But jolliest of all !

With skimming o'er the frozen lake and coasting down the hill,
There 's not a dreary moment in the day for girls and boys;
The snowman by the captured fort with battle joy must thrill —
But he can't read beside the fire, and dream of Christmas joys !
Oh, May days are gay days,
In southland or in north ;
July days are high days,
Especially the Fourth !
Then fall days, foot-ball days—
I 'm quarter-back, you know ;
But December, please remember,
Brings Christmas and the snow !

218

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

(A sequel to " The Lucky Sixpence")

BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE

Chapter V

I FIND A TIN TEA-CADDY

Bart's courage reassured me for an instant and
checked my flight ; but, even as he spoke, a
strange and awesome voice rose above the clamor
of the shouts about me. I turned toward the
woods whence this mysterious sound came, and
there, emerging from behind a tree, was a tall,
swaying figure of a man without a head. One
hand was upraised and waved to and fro, while
the other held out toward us a riven skull with
glowing eyes that waxed and waned like a candle
flame fanned by a gentle breeze.

With a cry of terror, I sank to my knees and hid
my face in my hands, too frightened now to run. Just
then there came an agonizing cry from the Magus.

"Oh, do not shoot!" he called; "I pray you do
not shoot, or we are all lost !" And I looked up
to see Bart facing the headless ghost with a lev-
eled pistol, which he was aiming with much de-
liberation. Schmuck was near the rock where we
had pretended to lay our weapons, and was in the
act of throwing down angrily one of the billets
of wood we had left to deceive him.

"Do not shoot !" he cried again ; "I will try to
drive this ghost away." And he raised his long
arms and began to repeat his rigmarole, step-
ping out toward the ghastly figure that undulated
in the moonlight.

"An you go too close you 're like to get the bul-
let," shouted Bart, his pistol still pointed toward
the apparition ; " 't is in my mind to find out how
much good lead a ghost can carry."

He was about to fire, when little Peg flew to-
ward us.

"D-d-do not s-s-shoot," she exclaimed at the
top of her voice. At this Bart hesitated.

"Why not?" he demanded, as Peg came up.

"There is a-a-another t-t-there who is n-n-no
g-g-ghost," she stammered; and even as she said
the words, the weird figure seemed to crumple
up, the ghastly head rolled on the ground, where
its eyes still glittered among the ferns, and in the
pale light we saw another form grappling with
the ghost.

' 'T is a bony spirit," came the cry of a
strange voice from the midst of the struggle. "I
warrant he will lay quiet now for a while,"
he ended with a laugh that sounded very out of
place to our overwrought nerves.

Bart at once made for the spot, his pistol still
in his hand, and I, feeling safer with him, seized
Peg and followed.

"I s-s-saw him," chattered Peg, as we went
along; "he c-c-came out of the w-w-woods just
after the f-f-funny b-bogy !"

We came up to the scene of the struggle, but it
had ceased. The spook lay upon its back, and a
stout lad of about fourteen was sitting upon it,
grinning joyfully as we approached him.

' 'T is not worth wasting good powder on this,"
said the stranger. "He 's limp enough, and so
bundled up with his ghost clothes that 't was
scarce fair to fight him."

"Let 's see what he looks like," suggested Bart,
for there was no face visible, a long garment of
some sort being tied atop of his crown and sur-
mounted by a collar, giving him the appearance
of having no head; but that he had one was plain
to see, for we could make out the shape of it be-
neath the flimsy cloth.

"Now keep still," cried Bart to the ghost, "or
I '11 make a real wraith of you."

"Aye, master," came a muffled and trembling
voice from beneath the stuff, "I '11 lay like a lamb,
an you promise not to shoot."

At that the strange boy got up, and he and
Bart stripped off the garment, displaying a long,
thin fellow not much older than any of us, whose
lean and lanky appearance made it plain he was
the Magus's son.

"And here 's his other head," said the ^stranger,
picking it up. "Had I not seen him putting the
shiny stuff in his eyes, I might have been frighted
myself, though I take no great stock in old wives'
tales." He held out the skull for us to look at.

"How did you see it, and where have you come
from?" asked Bart; for now his curiosity about
this boy came uppermost in his mind.

"I was in the woods," answered the other, a
little embarrassed, I thought, "and I saw you tie
up the horses. I wondered what you were going
to do with your lanthorn and spade, and so made
up my mind to follow. I had given you. time to
get a start and was about to go on myself, when
this fellow came up on another mule, and I
waited to see what he was about. He did n't
keep me waiting long. After he had tied his
beast a little way from the others, he took out
this ghost dress and the skull, and I saw him put
the shiny stuff in its eyes and rub it on his

220

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Jan.,

clothes. Then he followed your light, which was
plain to be seen, and I took after him. He hid
behind one tree, waiting, I doubt not, for his
signal, and I behind another."

"I s-s-saw y-you all the t-t-time," Peg broke in,
"but the g-g-ghost was f-f-farther off."

" 'T was as good as a play," the lad went on,
"and though I might have stopped him sooner, I
was curious to see what the outcome of the mat-
ter would be. 'T was good as a play !" he repeated
at the end of his story, and laughed heartily.

"Well," said Bart, " 't is lucky you came along,
or we should have 'settled this ghost right
enough."

" 'T was my father made me do it," said our
panting play-actor, and that reminded us of the
fact that we had wholly forgotten the Magus.
With one accord we turned to see what he was
about, and why he had n't joined us.

At first we saw nothing of him, all of us hav-
ing looked in the direction of the stone where he
had last been ; but little Peg spied him.

"T-t-there h-h-he is," she cried, pointing;
"he 's d-d-digging up the t-t-treasure."

And sure enough, there in the hole we had
been digging was the Magus, shoveling out the
dirt for dear life, his thin back rising and falling
rapidly as he delved into the earth.

"Hi there ! Get out of that, Schmuck," shouted
Bart ; but the Magus paid no heed, and Bart
started toward him.

"You keep this fellow here," he said to the
stranger. " 'T will be worth your while. I '11
attend to the Magus."

He went on quickly, and I followed, dragging
out my pistol from under my cloak, for Schmuck
was no boy, but a man grown, and likely to take
more than words to frighten.

When we reached the hole, he was working
furiously, tossing out spadeful after spadeful of
earth, and paid no heed to Bart's order to cease.
Indeed it was not till Bart held his pistol threat-
eningly toward him that he seemed to consider
our presence.

"I am but earning my fee," he snarled then.

"Your fee !" cried Bart, "when you intended to
scare us from our treasure and take it all your-
self?"

"I?" ejaculated the Magus, affecting indigna-
tion ; "sure here 's ingratitude ! To try to ruin a
poor man's reputation when he 's found you a
fortune."

"Then why did you have your servant dressed
like a spook if 't were not your intention to in-
timidate us?" demanded Bart, giving me a mean-
ing glance.

"You call that fool my servant," Schmuck

burst out angrily. "More like you have employed
him to give you an excuse not to pay me."

"Now I know you are false to us, Schmuck, for
the boy acknowledged he was your son," said
Bart, triumphantly.

"Did he so?" muttered the Magus, savagely.
"T is a good beating he '11 get if I 'm his father."

"That is a family affair," Bart laughed; "but
now, come you out of that." And again he aimed
the pistol threateningly.

Schmuck hesitated for a moment, then, winc-
ing at the pistol held so close to him, he thought
better of his decision, and stepped out of the hole.

"As you please," he grumbled, with a shrug of
his narrow shoulders; "but we may as well go
home. You would not heed my warning, and all
my spells are undone. You will find naught in
the hole now but dirt."

"But there is something there, Bart," I de-
clared. "Do you suppose I screamed like that
for nothing?"

For a moment, Bart seemed undecided, for he
had no liking to leave the Magus unguarded
while he went after the treasure himself.

"We '11 have Schmuck heave it out," he said
at last, in his masterful way. "Into the hole
again, Magus," he went on, and although he
showed much reluctance, the man of magic com-
plied. He worked a little, and then, "There is
something here," he admitted.

With considerable effort he lifted a bundle out
of the hole and placed it at our feet. This was
■ evidently the yielding object that my spade had
struck, for it was a huge patchwork quilt, much
stained with earth and water. The four corners
were gathered together and tied in a bunch with
cord. I leaned down and felt of it, and finding
that it contained many hard and oddly shaped
forms, I at once jumped to the conclusion that
they were silver vessels of some sort.

' 'T is a pirate hoard, without doubt," I told
Bart.

"Good !" he cried, becoming near as excited as
I. "Is there aught else in the hole, Magus?" he
added.

"There's a small coffer here," was the surly reply.

"Up with it," Bart commanded; and a moment
later a brass-bound coffer stood beside us.

"There 's naught else," said Schmuck at last,
stepping out and making a motion to put himself
at Bart's back and so avoid the pistol ; but Bart
turned and faced him, still aiming resolutely.

"Nay, you said there was naught there once
before," he remarked; "we '11 see ourselves
whether you are telling the truth this time. Go
down, Bee, and take a look while I keep this fel-
low in order."

I9'3-]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

221

So down into the hole I went, taking the lan-
thorn with me, while Bart guarded the Magus.

I took up the spade and tested the ground be-
neath my feet. On one side was a ledge of rock,
but when I tried to dig in the earth I found it all
nearly as hard, and came to the conclusion that
what I had first handled was so much softer be-
cause it had been dug away once before. From
this I argued that we had in reality come to the
bottom of the pit, and that this time, at least,
Schmuck was telling the truth.

Satisfied at last that there was nothing further
to be found, I set my foot into a crevice in the
rock, preparing to come out, but it slipped and
dislodged a stone, which, in turn, loosened an-
other object, which rolled to my feet.

I stooped and picked it up, wondering what it
could be, and found that it was naught but a
common tea-caddy of tin such as we have in the
kitchen, and, upon further examination, discov-
ered, much to my disappointment, for my imag-
ination had at once filled it with great wealth,
that it was empty.

I stood there for a moment with it in my hands,
a little perplexed as to why pirates should have
taken the trouble to hide a thing so valueless as
a tin tea-caddy. Had it been full of jewels or
Spanish gold pieces, I could have understood it,
but it was empty, and I dropped it back into the
hole, little thinking what I did, for my mind was
intent upon the problem as to why it was there
at all.

Meanwhile Bart and the Magus stood in si-
lence awaiting my verdict.

"There is naught else of worth here, Bart," I
said, climbing up to level ground.

"Then we may think of going back," said Bart.
"What puzzles me is how we are to manage the
treasure and this Magus as well, for it 's in my
mind to take him to Philadelphia and give him
up to the authorities for a thief."

At this the Magus fell to his knees with a cry
of supplication.

"Nay, young master, do not do that. 'T will
be my ruin. Take the treasure, and let me go.
'T is all I ask."

"Aye, after you find that you could n't frighten
us with your ghosts and make way with it all !"

"Truly the treasure was in some measure mine
also," answered the Magus, with a whine.
"Though I knew not when we started what it
was we went to seek."

"How do you make that out?" demanded Bart.
" 'T was plain enough you knew Hans Kalb-
fleisch, but that gave you no right to the trea-
sure."

"I will confess, young master, if you will let

me go my way," pleaded the diviner. "I ask for
no part of the treasure."

"Nay, I make no promises," answered Bart ;
"but say on, and, if I find you are telling truth,
we will see."

" 'T was a Brunswicker found it," the Magus
began, "but ere he could remove it, the British,
fearing that his regiment would all desert,
shipped them off to New York by sea. On leav-
ing, he took me and Hans Kalbfleisch into his
confidence, though to neither of us did he tell the
whole of the secret, thinking to make each honest
by setting the other as a guard to watch his in-
terests. To me he said the spot was between the
white stone and the place Hans knew of; but, ere
Hans and I could come together, the British evac-
uated Philadelphia, and, though I have searched
diligently along the creek for the place, there are
so many white stones scattered here and there
that the quest was hopeless. 'T was only when
you brought word of the other mark that success
was possible. So you see, young master, in a
way I had some right to it, though that I give up
if you will but grant me my liberty."

Somehow he made the matter of his interest
plausible to us, and his words, of course, ex-
plained what had been so mysterious in his be-
havior all that night. Now, apparently, his only
desire was to be away, and he seemed to care
naught for the treasure since Bart had threat-
ened to jail him as a thief.

After some further parleying, Bart consented
to give the Magus his liberty on one condition.

"You must help carry the treasure to our
horses," he insisted, to which the Magus, glad to
have freedom at any price, readily consented.

I ran and told the others that we had found
something in the hole, and that we were ready to
proceed. At this the stranger proposed that he
help too, and all three of us went back to where
Bart was preparing for the return trip.

It was arranged that the Magus should shoul-
der the coffer, that his son and the strange boy
should manage the bundle between them, while
Bart and I walked behind with pistols ready in
case there was any sign of treachery on
Schmuck's part.

Peggy brought up in the rear, dancing along
in the best of spirits, and vowing every few min-
utes that she had never had so much fun.

Charley was still there when we reached the
horses, but we scarce thought of him, for
Schmuck, setting down his burden, asked per-
mission to depart at once. 'T was plain he was
in a fever to be off, and it struck me even then as
strange that he showed no regret at leaving the
treasure he had been so eager to find.

222

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Jan.,

The gray light of early dawn showed the man
more clearly than I had seen him under the fitful
glow of the lanthorn, and I looked him over curi-
ously.

He was not near so awe-inspiring as he had
been in the darkness, for his suit of satin was
frayed here and there, and showed signs of much
patching; but it was a smear of mud upon his
waistcoat, a straight smear of dirt that passed
under his ruffle as if a soiled hand had thrust
something within his bosom, that caught my at-
tention. I looked at the spot intently, scarce
knowing why I did so, and suddenly there popped
into my head the meaning of it.

"Please, master, let me go," begged Schmuck,
once more.

"Shall I give him some money?" Bart whis-
pered to me. "I '11 be glad to see the last of
him."

"Aye," was my loudly spoken answer, "we '11
let him go after he 's given us what he took from
the tea-caddy he found in the hole."

Chapter VI

BASE METAL

The change in the face of the Magus as I pointed
to the smear of mud upon his breast was so sud-
den and threatening that I was frightened. His
thin lips curled back from his teeth, and he
snarled like an angry dog, showing plainly that
what I had but suspected was true. It was clear
that he was so taken by surprise as to betray
himself.

This he evidently realized as soon as we, for,
without a word of denial, he turned in his tracks
and started off toward his mule.

So quickly did it all happen, that he had al-
most gained his beast before any of us came to
our senses. Then Bart, calling upon him to stop,
aimed his pistol. ' But the Magus neither turned
nor slackened his speed, and again Bart shouted
to him to halt.

But the diviner continued his flight, and, with
a final bound, threw one leg over his donkey. He
would have been off had he not forgotten, in his
excitement and haste, that his animal was teth-
ered, and failed to loose it.

The poor beast tugged at its halter as the
Magus urged it on, but the strap held, and we
hurried forward, shouting.

Now, however, we had a new man to deal with.
Whatever it was he had hidden, he meant to keep
it at any cost, and, dropping to the far side of his
animal, he slipped into the woods.

Bart snapped his pistol at him, but it missed
fire, and, with a growl of disappointment, he

dropped it and started in pursuit. In the mean-
time the strange boy, with great speed, had run
to head the Magus off, and, though Schmuck's
long legs covered the ground rapidly, he was no
match for the stranger, who soon overhauled
him, and, shouting to Bart to come on, threw
himself upon the man, tripping him. Together
they fell to the ground, struggling violently, and,
a moment later, Bart reached them and flung
himself into the fray.

I hoped to see the struggle quickly finished, but
the end of the matter was not yet. The Magus
was wiry, and, more than that, he was desperate,
and fought bitterly. But Charley, recovering his
courage with the daylight, joined in, and soon
they had him trussed up with a halter.

"Now let us see what you have concealed
there," Bart exclaimed, panting from his exer-
tions. "I warrant 't is the most valuable part of
the treasure, if one may judge from the fight
you made to keep it."

He plunged his hand inside the man's shirt,
and, fumbling about, brought forth a small pack-
age, which, after a scant look, he handed to me.

" 'T is not worth the trouble, I vow," he re-
marked, getting up from the ground; "but take
care of it, Bee, and we '11 look it over anon."

I took it in my hand, and found it a small
packet neatly wrapped in coarse brown paper
and tied about a number of times with twine. To
the feel, and, being anxious, I squeezed it more
than once, it was soft, and yet stiff, too, like
starched linen. I confess it was disappointing,
but I consoled myself with the thought that
Schmuck would not have taken all that trouble
for nothing. I would have liked to open it then
and there, but Bart wisely told me to curb my
impatience till a more fitting time.

"And now, Schmuck," he went on, regarding
the prostrate man at our feet ; "get yourself up,
and march with me to the jail."

The man got to his feet sullenly, but made no
protest. Indeed, he seemed scarce to care what
we did with him now. His face was flushed
with his exertion, and twitched nervously, as if
he were under some great strain. I did not like
the look of him, and preferred that he be al-
lowed to go his way, for I felt sure he was such
an one as would remember an injury.

"Let him go, Bart," I said, "he has made
naught by his tricks, and," I lowered my voice
so that none other could hear, " 't would make
the matter of our search public did we hand him
over to the authorities, which I am sure you do
not want."

"Now that 's well thought of," he answered
back in a whisper, and then went on loudly, to

ISM3-]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

223

the Magus, "We 're going to let you off,
Schmuck; but have a care what you do, or we
will clap you into jail."

Bart took my pistol, and, telling the strange
boy to loose the bonds of the Magus, he bade the
latter take his donkey and go.

I expected that Schmuck would be overjoyed
at the prospect of keeping his liberty, and would
hurry away at all speed ; but in this I was mis-
taken. He stood sulkily, his head dropped to his
breast, eying us venomously from under his
brows, and muttering to himself the while. Once
or twice he started toward his tethered animal,
and as- often turned back, and made as if to
speak. Seeming to think better of it, he held his
tongue. At last, because of an impatient word
from Bart, he shook his head and strode over to
his mule. Loosening it with an angry jerk, he
bestrode the patient little animal and prepared
to ride away, shaking his fist angrily at us.

He looked so funny there in the daylight with
his shabby suit of black silk and the silly plume
in his hat, that, being but youngsters, we could n't
help laughing at the queer figure he cut and the
dumb threat he hurled at us. At last, amid our
merriment, he rode away.

"Where 's the ghost?" exclaimed Bart, when
we were beginning to come to our senses, and
we looked around, expecting to see the thin youth
somewhere in sight, but he, too, had disappeared,
and we guessed he had taken advantage of the
excitement to steal off.

There was naught left now but to mount and
take our treasure back to Denewood, where, in
safety and seclusion, we could overhaul it at our
leisure.

But my eyes strayed to the strange boy who
had done so much to help us. I now looked at
him closely for the first time that morning, and,
though I liked his face at once, the thing that
attracted my attention was a great scar over his
left eye, and I remembered the advertisement for
the runaway bond boy. I could recollect much
of what I had read just before coming out on
this expedition, and all fitted with the lad before
me. He was dressed in a suit of homespun, wore
yarn stockings, and on his feet were heeled
leathern shoes with brass buckles. There could
be no doubt about it, and here also was the ex-
planation of why he was in the woods at night.
He was in hiding.

"You have aided us so greatly," I said to him,
"is there aught we can do to help you?"

Then, as I saw Bart looked surprised at my
taking the matter on my shoulders, I explained,
"I know who he is."

Whereat the lad interrupted me, with a pleased

face : "I did n't think you 'd remember me, miss,
but I knew you at once."

It was my turn to be surprised, and I looked at
him closely as he went on.

"Not to say at once, either, because I followed
you for ten minutes before I caught up with you ;
but as soon as you came back in this road here,
and there was light enough to see, I knew you.
You 've not changed, although it is two years."

Still I had no recollection of the boy. I racked
my brains to place him, as I said, "At any rate
you must let us help you."

But he shook his head.

"I 'm on my way to Philadelphia," he told me.
"I mean to be a soldier."

"You can't go in to Philadelphia," I cried,
clasping my hands. "Don't you know you are
advertised for in the news sheets? There 's a
reward out for you."

"Is that so? But how did you guess it was
for me?" The boy asked curiously. "I .never
told you my name,— though 't is Mark Powell,"
he added.

"I knew by the scar," I answered, puzzled.

"But I did n't have it then," said the boy, put-
ting his hand to his head.

' 'T is in the newspapers, of course," I ex-
plained impatiently, "and you '11 be taken if you
go into town."

"I wonder," said the lad, "would Mr. Travers
think I was old enough now to make a soldier?
Germantown 's not far from here, and, if I could
win to him, he might help me for the sake of
that day at the Green Tree Inn."

Then, at last, I knew him for a boy who had
led Brother John and me to our horses when they
had been hid from us by a pack of Tories who
wanted to seize me for the sake of the reward
that had been put upon my head, even as now
there was a reward upon his. In a moment my
resolve was taken.

"Bart," I said, "this boy saved John's life and
mine when first I landed in this country, and who
knows what he has saved us from to-night? He
is a bound boy who has left his master, I know
not why, but I think I owe it to him to get him
to John."

"I 'm not ashamed of leaving my master," an-
nounced the lad. "I would have stayed, but he
wanted to make a Tory spy of me. I mean to buy
my freedom as soon as I can earn the money."

"We '11 take you to Denewood with us," said
Bart, "till we see what John advises."

'T was high time for us to be on the road if we
were not to have our secret known at home. The
two boys quickly loaded our treasure-trove on
the horses, and we all mounted and were off.

224

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Jan.,

Then a thought came to plague me.

"Bart," I said, "if we take Mark with us, the
Mummers will give him up. They think it a duty
to return escaped bond-servants to their mas-
ters."

"Then we '11 hide him," cried Bart, impatiently.
"Denewood is big enough to conceal a regiment,
and men have been hid there before" ; which was
true, indeed.

Arriving at Denewood, we found many of the
servants already stirring, so, with a warning to
Charley not to gossip, Peg and I slipped into the
house by the secret way, leaving it to Bart to
stow the treasure in one of the great barns and
to hide Mark in a smoke-house that was unused
at that time of the year.

I think the hours never passed so slowly as
they did that morning. Mrs. Mummer, in one of
her busy humors, was preparing to put up con-
serves, and that meant plenty of work for me.
There were, beside, my regular duties of dusting
and the like, that had to be gone through every
morning, and little Peg and I could hardly re-
strain our impatience. But we dared not show
how anxious we were to be gone or neglect any-
thing, for fear we should betray our secret.

At length we were free, for the time at least,
and ran to the barn as fast as our legs could
carry us, all the while a little uncertain what
Bart had been doing, for he, of course, as a man,
had no household duties.

"W-w-will he o-o-open them before we g-g-get
there?" asked Peg, in a distressed voice.

"I don't know," I answered, "but we '11 soon
see."

We found Bart walking up and down the floor
of the barn, guarding his treasures.

"At last !" he cried, when he saw us ; "I thought
you were never coming. What in the world has
kept you?"

"We had to dust, and to lay out linen, and —
and, oh, a score of things, which all take time,"
I explained; "but what was in the bundle and the
coffer? I am dying to know."

"Think you I would be so mean as to open
them before you came?" asked Bart. "They are
as you left them, and we will look at what they
contain together."

"Now it was good of you to wait !" I ex-
claimed, for I knew he was, if anything, more
impatient than we.

" 'T was all I could do to keep from looking,"
he answered, "and I have been feeling. I 'm sure
the bundle contains gold vessels of some kind.
Probably stolen from Spanish churches. But
come, I can wait no longer !"

So impatient that we could hardly restrain our-

selves, we cut the cords binding the four corners
of the quilt, and, as we opened it, all three of us
bent forward to see the contents. A gray mass
of pitchers, cups, bowls, platters, and such-like
things fell out, and Bart, touching it with his
foot, gave a grunt of dissatisfaction.

' 'T is only silver after all !" he murmured, and
began to rummage through the objects to dis-
cover the gold and jewels he had hoped for. I
picked up a small pitcher and went with it to the
light. My heart had sunk with the suspicion
that we might expect a still further disappoint-
ment, and, indeed, upon examination, I discov-
ered that our find was not even silver.

" 'T is but pewter, Bart," I told him ; "we have
been fooled. 'T is worth naught."

"It can't be !" he cried in distress ; but, though
he searched through the pile of utensils, there
was naught but pewter to reward him.

"Now this is too bad !" he exclaimed ; "but
mayhap the chest is what we 're looking for."
And at once he started prying open the small
coffer.

Again we were doomed to disappointment. All
we found was a quantity of little phials and
packages.

I picked up one and read "Ipecacuanha," on
another "Jesuit's bark," then, "Quicksilver,"
"Tartar emetic," "Calomel," and "Cantharides,"
in quick succession. 'T was needless to go fur-
ther. It was plain enough that we had found a
medicine-chest with naught else of value in it.

Bart's disappointment was keener than ours.
He had wanted to win a commission, and now he
saw no hope of it.

"It must have been a poor party of pirates that
buried that stuff !" he exclaimed, as he paced the
floor of the barn once or twice, in anger and
chagrin. "The whole of it is not worth a pound
of good, hard money."

"I do not think that pirates had aught to do
with it," I answered. " 'T is more like some
Hessian loot, picked up as they went along and
buried until a more convenient time came to dis-
pose of it. Those fellows will take anything,
you know, and the ground was too soft to have
been dug up very long ago."

"Aye, that 's it," he agreed; "but," he went on,
after a moment's thought, "why should old
Schmuck have been so keen for it? He would
n't have been so anxious after a lot of paltry
pewter."

"Perchance he was befooled too, or else 't was
the package !" I cried, clapping my hands to
where it still lay beneath my kerchief. I had
forgotten it, and in another moment, I had it out,
and we examined it critically.

I9I3-]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

225

"Nay, you may have it," said Bart, who had
fingered it carelessly when I handed it to him.
"There are no jewels nor gold in it. Whatever
it is, you may keep it as a remembrance, for I am
sure 't is of little worth" ; and he shrugged his
shoulders indifferently, for he was sore disap-
pointed, and wished, manlike, to hide it.

The packet was quite clean save for a trace
here and there of the Magus's muddy fingers. It
was wrapped so carefully that, as I looked at it,
it flashed over me that this was a great deal of

"A good, fat lock it must be," I laughed dis-
dainfully.

"Well, miss, since you are so wise, what is it?"
demanded Bart, good-naturedly.

"You would never guess," I answered; "but
know you not that a gipsy told me I should
find fortune across great waters? Now I 've
crossed the ocean, and this is the fortune, of
course."

"Nay, now," Bart put in, "when I heard that
tale before 't was happiness you were to find

"I AM BUT EARNING MY FEE,' HE SNARLED.

trouble to take for a thing of little worth. Yet
what could it be ? I turned it in my fingers medi-
tatively.

"Let 's a-a-all g-g-guess," suggested Peggy,
ever ready for a game.

"And whoever guesses right shall keep it,"
cried Bart.

"Nay," I said gaily, "you cannot dispose of my
property, sir. You have already given it to me."

"W-w-what do you think it is, B-B-Bee?"
asked Peggy, pinching the package. "I t-t-think
't is a s-s-set of r-ruffles."

"That 's your guess, is it, Peg?" said Bart.
"Very well. I think it is a lock of a lady's hair."
Vol. XL.— 29.

across the waters. Think you happiness comes
packed in such small parcels?"

"Oh, q-q-quit your q-q-quarreling !" said Peg,
"and do let us s-s-see what it is !"

So with care I began to untie the string, and
this took some little time. At length it was free,
and off came the paper. Inside this we found
another covering of parchment to keep it dry,
and, beneath this again, a leaf of silvered paper.
So carefully was the little bundle wrapped that,
in spite of all our disappointments, our interest
revived, and we put our heads together, intent
upon what we should discover.

"This grows exciting," said Bart, "my heart

226

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

"'WHO WAS THAT LOOKING IN AT THE DOOR?

misgives me that I did wrong to give it away so
lightly. Mayhap there 's a portrait of the lovely
lady as well as the lock of her hair."

' 'T is mine now, at any rate," I made answer,
and, carefully taking off the silvered paper, I
held up the contents of the parcel for all to see.

A fortune indeed, for
't was money I had in
my hand !

"Continental shinplais-
ters," scoffed Bart, "that
even Hessians would n't
bother to carry away."

"Bart !" I cried, as I
examined them. "They
are Bank of England
notes !"

With a shout of joy,
he took them from me.

"Aye, you 're right.
Bee !" he exclaimed, as
he fingered them ; "they
're as good as any hard
money ever coined. We
've come across the trea-
sure at last, and now let 's
count it."

It must have made a
strange picture, I often
think as I recall it —
two little maids and one
great boy sitting to-
gether on the floor of the
barn. Before them, a
patchwork quilt covered
with all sorts of pewter
utensils, and in their
careless fingers a for-
tune. Through the open
door a streak of sunshine
streamed, in which two
hens and a pigeon pecked,
hesitatingly turning their
heads from side to side
to eye the three chil-
dren.

Something, I know not
what, caused me to look
up, and at the same mo-
ment Peg cried out :

"Who was that look-
ing in at the d-d-door?"

All three of us turned.
A shadow seemed to
stir in the sunshine, and
a hand, that had been
slyly pushing the door wider, was suddenly with-
drawn. At least I thought I saw a hand with-
drawn, but after we had run out to see who spied
upon us and found no one, I could not be sure,
though Peg still vowed she had seen something
move.

{To be continued)

"THE BOY AND THE MAN"

JOHN
President

raph by Brown Bros.
GRIER HIBBEN,
Princeton University.

Note: — The following brief "Talks with Boys"
originally formed part of a series obtained by Ham-
ilton Fish Armstrong, a boy of seventeen, for " The
Blue and the Gray," a paper published by the boys of
the Oilman School at Baltimore. It was at once ap-
parent, however, that these gems of advice and sugges-
tion by eminent men deserved to be given to a far wider
audience than that of the school paper. Therefore St.
Nicholas has arranged to publish most of them.

In presenting the first instalment this month, we
are sure that our readers and their parents will join
the young editor of "The Blue and the Gray" in
renewed and grateful acknowledgment to these dis-
tinguished men who generously took time from their
busy lives to give such nuggets of admonition, cheer,
and inspiration to American school-boys. And the
thanks of this magazine are also tendered for their
friendly courtesy in heartily according their sanction
to the reprinting of their contributions here. —
Editor St. Nicholas.

Photograph by B
REV. DR. HUGH B
Former Rector St

11 Bros.
IRCKHEAD,

George's
Church, New York.

"THE BOY AND THE MAN"

BY PRESIDENT JOHN GRIER HIBBEN

Every boy wishes to be a man, but the measure
of a man is not that of age, nor strength, nor
stature, nor possessions, nor position. That
which makes a man is a quality of spirit ; it is
courage, honor, integrity of character, and the
resolute purpose to know what is true, and to do
what is right. The central quality of manliness,
around which all others must be built up, is that
of a sense of honor. It is an incalculable advan-
tage to a school to have a spirit of honor pre-
vailing through all the activities of its life. A
practical illustration of it is the conduct of
examinations upon an honor basis. Such an
honor system, I am glad to say, we have had now
for twenty years at Princeton, and it has estab-
lished a standard of honor that is recognized in
all the customs and traditions of our campus life.
I do not see why a school should not have an
honor system of this kind. It is always a crit-
icism of a person's manliness if, on any occasion
whatsoever, he must be watched. It has an uncon-
scious influence upon him to feel that he is not
wholly trusted. To put a person upon his honor
is to appeal to the man in him.

Another essential element of manliness is the
ability to play an uphill game, and not to lose
one's head when facing an adverse turn of af-
fairs. This applies not only to the sports of the
school, but also to its more serious work, and to
the obligations and responsibilities of after life.
He who can remain cheerful and still hopeful
when all things turn against him, has a courage
that must conquer in the end. The spirit that
will not give up nor relax effort until the end of

the ninth inning, or until the whistle blows, is
the spirit that gives assurance of success. Again,
there is another feature of manliness that is
sometimes overlooked, or, at least, not duly em-
phasized, namely, that the true man never takes
himself too seriously. He, however, takes his
zvork seriously. And the more seriously he takes
his work the less conscious is he apt to be of
himself, and the less concerned as to what others
may think of him. He is thus able to see things
in life in their true proportions. The magnitude
of life's interests and the perplexing problems
which center about life's mysteries compel him to
recognize his true position within the larger
world about him, and lead him not to think of
himself more highly than he ought to think. The
true man, moreover, must have some fellow feel-
ing for his own kind, particularly some sympa-
thetic interest and concern for the men about him
who have not had the chances in life which have
come to him, and who have not enjoyed those
privileges which have made up a large part of his
daily life. That man lives in a small world if it
is bounded by his own selfish desires and influ-
ences. To live in a larger world, he must become
a part of its life and take a share of its burdens
and obligations. It is well to remember, how-
ever, that one does not have to wait until he is of
age in order to become a man. There may be a
manly boy as well as a manly man, and only a
manly boy is capable of becoming a true man.

THE FORCE OF SUNLIGHT

BY REV. DR. HUGH BIRCKHEAD

The other day, I was asked to go to see a new
invention which has just been discovered— a way

228

THE BOY AND THE MAN

[Jan.,

to draw electricity from the sun. I went down-
town in New York, and was lifted in an express
elevator to the top of one o»f the highest buildings
in the city. Finally, on the roof, far above the
city's noise, I found a group of men looking at a
large frame in which blocks of metal were fixed.
This frame was connected by electric wires with
the room below, and in two days of sunlight it
collected enough electricity to light an ordinary
house for a week. No more dynamos or waste of
energy-producing power — simply the frame upon
the roof absorbing the brightness of the sun, and
turning it into light for the dark hours. It is a
wonderful invention, and when it is perfected,
you will find it upon the roof of every house,
upon the upper deck of every steamer, quietly at
work storing away the silent power of the sun,
that we may use it when we please to make the
darkness light.

Now all of you boys who have the privilege of
going to a good school are in the brightest kind
of sunshine that you will ever know. All the
stored-up goodness, and cleverness, and beauty
of the years that have been are being radiated
upon you. The ideals, and visions, and splendid
deeds of heroism of all time are being brought in
touch with you, and you are at the receptive time
of your lives, when you are most capable of mak-
ing all these splendid influences a part of your-
selves. As the sunlight is so quiet in its force,
we do not realize how great that force is ; and
just because it beats upon the world day after
day, all life is made possible — not only the trees,
and flowers, and the grass ; not only the butter-
flies and the birds ; not only everything that
creeps upon the surface of the earth or lifts itself
into the air, but the life of man, your life and
mine.

In this same way the influence of God, through
human life, and thought, and achievement, beats
down upon your minds and hearts. Later on, you
will go out into some of the dark places of the
world, among the men and women who have not
known the beauty and truth which have been so
freely shown to you, and the kindness and love
which you have accepted as a part of your right
from the start ; and it will be your privilege and
your duty to lighten up those dark corners of the
world with the stored-up energy of school-boy
days.

Let me urge you to open wide the doors of
your mind, your heart, and your soul to the sun-
light now while it is still yours, for, if your
task is worthy of a son of God in the years
to come, you will need all the beauty, and the
belief, and hope that can possibly be stored away
in these few years while the sun shines. For

there are men and women all over the' world
waiting for your brightness to illuminate their
lives, looking to you for the. way, for the truth,
for the life.

When you feel that studying is tiresome, and
that the restrictions of school life are irksome,
just think o-f the metal frame upon the roof,
quietly putting away for future use the bright-
ness in the sky, and turn again" to your task,
determined to absorb all the light you can ;
not for your own happiness or success merely,
but that you may be part of the light of the
world, and men may turn to you to see the
way and be glad.

"LIVE FOR WHAT YOU WOULD LIKE
TO BE AT SIXTY"

BY ADMIRAL F. E. CHADWICK

If I were to start out to give advice to boys, my
first would be, to live for- what -you would like to
be at sixty.

Of course sixty looks to you a long way off;
twenty-five, or even
twenty, is "getting
on," from your point
of view, and forty is
extremely old. But
you will wonder, some
day, how quickly sixty
comes ; and what you
would be at that age
(when, some of you
will still have a con-
siderable time to live)
will mean much. For
if you aim to be a fine
man at sixty, you will
photograph b.y Pach Bros. have to be a fine man

admiral f. e. chadwick, through life. And let
me say that you can-
not trifle with such an aspiration. Every evil act,
every evil thought, will count heavily against you,
and you will remember to your deep regret every
one of such things when you come to sit down:
and think over life at sixty.

Boys hate being too much preached to, but I
do not mean this as a sermon. I am thinking of
life as an educational question. The word educa-
tion is one of the most meaningful of words. Its
aim is to draw out of you the best that is in you.
It cannot draw out anything which is not in you.
But it can do its best. And you yourself must
do this. The teacher can only help you a bit.
The mere acquirement of information is a small
thing. The gist of the matter is in the manner
of acquirement and the use you make of the

I9I3-]

THE BOY AND THE MAN"

229

acquirement. If the manner and use do not pro-
duce character in the large, broad sense, your
effort at education is a failure. For the only
really valuable thing in this world is character.
Every organization of any kind, bank, corpora-
tion, manufactory, church, government, or so-
ciety, is on the lookout for character. If you
have it, you need not fear that you will be over-
looked, for the search is too sharp for character
to conceal itself.

Thus, if you happen to lie awake at night, it is
a good idea to think, "Am I producing the best
character that is in me to produce ? Am I doing
my level best to keep in the right way my soul,
that intangible something for which my body
exists ?" Every one can soar ; every one can
grovel. In the long race of life, when you slow
up at sixty and begin to think over things, you
will wish that you had always tried, at least, to
soar.

TWO ESSENTIALS

BY GIFFORD PINCHOT

I have never believed that the difference in
brains between individuals, whether men or boys,
is what determines success or failure. There are
few men and few boys who lack intelligence
enough to do their work well if they choose.

The essential things

which distinguish one
individual from an-
other, which give one
man a higher place
among his fellows
and another a lower,
are just two :

First of all, per-
severance— the ability
to keep everlastingly
at it ; and, secondly,
imagination or vision
— the ability to see
beyond the present
moment, and to un-
derstand that the work
at hand reaches be-
yond the present moment, and so is worth while.
There is nothing on earth, except actual dis-
honesty, which is so fatal to success in life as the
spirit of "What 's the use?"

WHAT IS SUCCESS?

BY COLONEL HENRY G. PROUT

The fathers- of the republic stated it as a self-
evident truth that men are endowed by the
Creator with the inalienable right of life, lib-

Photograph by Pach Bros.

GIFFOED PINCHOT,

Former Chief of Bureau of Forestry.

Photograph by Brown Brcs.
COLONEL HENRY G. PROUT,
Editor "Railroad Gazette"; former
Governor of the Provinces of the
Equator.

erty, and the pursuit of happiness. Observe,
they do not say the pursuit of wealth, or power,
or glory, but the pursuit of happiness. This is
the one undisputed aim which they assume may
be set before every
man. I think that
you will find this
idea running through
the philosophies and
the theologies of
mankind ever since
man began to record
his thoughts. Happi-
ness on earth, happi-
ness in heaven, has al-
ways been recognized
as the aim of the mass
of mortals. To secure
happiness, then, is
to be successful. But
happiness, deliberately
sought for its own
self, will never be at-
tained; for, in the nature of things, happiness
cannot be the fruit of selfishness. If we are to
get happiness, it must be incidentally in the pur-
suit of some other aim. It must be by sacrifice—
"He that loseth his life for My sake shall find it."

So, let us try to find some other end than hap-
piness, which may be worthy of our pursuit and
through which happiness may, perhaps, come as
our reward. Possibly we may agree as to what
that end shall be.

In every generation there are a few men who
impress their fellow-men by beauty and nobility
of character, quite apart from those qualities
which we may think of as purely intellectual.
They have a distinction which wealth, or power,
or achievement cannot bestow. In the deepest
recesses of our minds, we recognize these men as
being the real nobility, the flower of humanity,
the really successful men — Colonel Newcome,
for example, may stand as a type of this class.
Colonel Newcome died in poverty, a pensioner in
the Crey Friars, where he had been a boy at
school. But any right-minded man must feel that
Colonel Newcome achieved a higher success than
if he had merely commanded an army or ruled
an empire. Ignoble men, men whom we rightly
despise, have done both of these things with con-
siderable success.

I should say that the only real and abiding suc-
cess that a man may achieve in this life is to
attain to that nobility and beauty of character
which command the admiration and affection of
his fellow-beings, and which enable him to face
any change of fortune with dignity and serenity.

€f.

BY MRS. JOHN T. VAN SANT

I did n't want a story-book ; I did n't want a doll ;
I did n't want a thimble or a satin parasol.
I did n't want a bonnet
With a curly feather on it,
And everything that Santa brought I did n't want at all !

I put a letter in the mail, and told him what to bring;
I told him not to worry 'bout a bracelet or a ring.

I thought I would n't bother

My mother or my father,
So wrote direct to Santa Claus, and asked for just one thing.

I said : "Dear Santa^ all I need is one small pussy-cat,
A little furry puss that I can love and pet and pat."

I wanted just a kitty,

And I think it is a pity
He brought me all these other things and did n't think of that.

And Father said it was a shame, and he would write the gent
A line or two or three or four, and ask him what he meant.

He said that Santa ought to

Have a lesson, and be taught to
Pay a little more attention to the orders that are sent.

And so, to-night I got a note from Mr. Santa Claus
Explaining how it happened ; and he said it was because

He never got the letter,

And that little girls had better

Have all their mail at Christmas posted by their
Pa's and Ma's.

HIS LITTLE SOUND STOMACH WAS SWOLLEN WITH HONEY, SO HE DIDN'T CARE A PENNY.'" (SEE PAGE 236.)

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE-TREE

FIRST PAPER OF THE SERIES ENTITLED "BABES OF THE WILD"

BY CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS

Uncle Andy and The Boy, familiarly known as
"The Babe," were exploring the high slopes of
the farther shore of Silverwater. It had been an
unusually long trip for the Babe's short legs, and
Uncle Andy had considerately called a halt, on
the pretext that it was time for a smoke. He
knew that the Babe would trudge on till he
dropped in his tracks before acknowledging that
he was tired. A mossy boulder under the ethereal
green shade of a silver birch offered the kind of
resting-place, comfortable yet unkempt, which
appealed to Uncle Andy's taste ; and there below,
over a succession of three low, wooded ridges, lay
outspread the enchanting mirror of the lake.
The Babe, squatting cross-legged on the turf, had
detected a pair of brown rabbits peering out at
him from the fringes of a thicket of young firs.

"Perhaps," he thought to himself, "if we keep
very still indeed, they '11 come out and play."

He was about to whisper this suggestion, cau-
tiously, to Uncle Andy, when, from somewhere in
the trees behind him, came a loud sound of
scrambling, of claws scratching on bark, followed
by a thud, a grunt, and a whining, and then the
crash of some heavy creature careering through
the underbrush.

The rabbits vanished. The Babe, startled,
shrank closer to his uncle's knees, and stared up
at him with round eyes of inquiry.

"He 's in a hurry, all right, and does n't care
who knows it !" chuckled Uncle Andy. But his
shaggy brows were knit in some perplexity.

"Who 's he?" demanded the Babe.

"Well, now," protested Uncle Andy, as much

231

HE REACHED AROUND, DUG HIS CLAWS INTO THE EDGE OF THE BEES' HOLE,
AND PULLED WITH ALL HIS MIGHT.'" (see page 235.)

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE-TREE

233

as to say that the Babe ought to have known that
without asking, "you know there 's nothing in
these woods big enough to make such a noise as
that except a bear or a moose. And a moose
can't go up a tree. You heard that fellow fall
down out of a tree, did n't you?"

"Why did he fall down out of the tree?" asked
the Babe, in a tone of great surprise.

"That 's just what I—" began Uncle Andy. But
he was interrupted.

"Oh ! Oh ! It 's stung me !" cried the Babe,
shrilly, jumping to his feet and slapping at his
ear. His eyes filled with injured tears.

Uncle Andy stared at him for a moment in
grave reproof. Then he, too, sprang up as if the
boulder had suddenly grown red-hot, and pawed
at his hair with both hands, dropping his pipe.

"Glory ! I see why he fell down !" he cried.
The Babe gave another cry, clapped his hand to
his leg where the stocking did not quite join the
short breeches, and began hopping up and down
on one foot. A heavy, pervasive hum was begin-
ning to make itself heard.

"Come !" yelled Uncle Andy, striking at his
cheek angrily and ducking his head as if he were
going to butt something. He grabbed the Babe
by one arm, and rushed him to the fir-thicket.

"Duck !" he ordered. "Down with you, flat !"
And together they crawled into the low-growing,
dense-foliaged thicket, where they lay side by
side, face downward.

"They won't follow us in here," murmured
Uncle Andy. "They don't like thick bushes."

"But I 'm afraid— we 've brought some in with
us, Uncle Andy," replied the Babe, trying very
hard to keep the tears out of his voice. "I think
I hear one squealing and buzzing in my hair.
Oh!" and he clutched wildly at his leg.

"You 're right !" said Uncle Andy, his voice
suddenly growing very stern as a bee crawled
over his collar and jabbed him with great earnest-
ness in the neck. He sat up. Several other bees
were creeping over him, seeking an effective spot
to administer their fiery admonitions. But he
paid them no heed. They stung him where they
would, while he was quickly looking over the
Babe's hair, jacket, sleeves, stockings, and loose
little trousers. He killed half a dozen of the
angry crawlers before they found a chance to do
the Babe more damage. Then he pulled out
three stings, and applied moist earth from under
the moss to each red and anguished spot.

The Babe looked up at him with a resolute
little laugh, and shook obstinately from the tip
of his nose the tears which he would not acknow-
ledge by the attentions of his handkerchief or his
fist.

Vol. XL.— 30.

"Thank you awfully," he began politely. "But
oh, Uncle Andy, your poor eye is just dreadful.
Oh-h-h !"

"Yes, they have been getting after me a bit,"
agreed Uncle Andy, dealing firmly with his own
assailants now that the Babe was all right. "But
this jab under the eye is the only one that mat-
ters. Here, see if you can get hold of the sting."

The Babe's keen eyes and nimble little fingers
captured it at once. Then Uncle Andy plastered
the spot with a daub of wet, black earth, and
peered over it solemnly at the Babe's swollen ear.
He straightened his grizzled hair, and tried to
look as if nothing out of the way had happened.

"I wish I 'd brought my pipe along," he mut-
tered. "It 's over there by the rock. But I
reckon it would n't be healthy for me to go and
get it just yet !"

"What 's made them so awful mad, do you sup-
pose ?" inquired the Babe, nursing his wounds,
and listening uneasily to the vicious hum which
filled the air outside the thicket.

"It 's that fool bear !" replied Uncle Andy.
"He 's struck a bee-tree too tough for him to
tear open, and he fooled at it just long enough to
get the bees good and savage. Then he quit in a
hurry. And we '11 just have to stay here till the
bees get cooled down."

"How long '11 that be?" inquired the Babe, dis-
mally. It was hard to sit still in the hot fir-
thicket, with that burning, throbbing smart in his
ear, and two little points of fierce ache in his leg.
Uncle Andy was far from happy himself; but he
felt that the Babe, who had behaved very well,
must have his mind diverted. He fished out a
letter from his pocket, rolled himself a cigarette
as thick as his finger with his heavy pipe tobacco,
and fell to puffing such huge clouds as would
discourage other bees from prying into the thicket.
Then he remarked consolingly :

"It is n't always, by any means, that the bees
get the best of it this way. Mostly it 's the other
way about. This bear was a fool. But there was
Teddy Bear, now, a cub over in the foot-hills of
Sugar Loaf Mountain, and he was not a fool.
When he tackled his first bee-tree— and he was
nothing but a cub, mind you — he pulled off the
affair in good shape. I wish it had been these
bees that he cleaned out."

The Babe was so surprised that he let go of his
leg for a moment.

"Why," he exclaimed, "how could a cub do
what a big, strong, grown-up bear could n't man-
age?" He thought with a shudder how unequal
he would be to such an undertaking.

"You just wait and see !" admonished Uncle
Andy, blowing furious clouds from his monstrous

234

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE-TREE

[Jan.,

cigarette. "It was about the end of the blueberry
season when Teddy Bear lost his big, rusty-coated
mother and small, glossy black sister, and found
himself completely alone in the world. They had
all three come down together from the high blue-
berry patches to the dark swamps, to hunt for
roots and fungi as a variation to their fruit diet.
The mother and sister had got caught together in
a dreadful trap. Teddy Bear, some ten feet out
of danger, had stared for two seconds in frozen
horror, and then raced away like mad, with his
mother's warning screech hoarse in his ears. He
knew by instinct that he would never see the
victims any more ; and he was very unhappy and
lonely. For a whole day he moped, roaming
restlessly about the high slopes and refusing to
eat; till, at last, he got so hungry that he just had
to eat. Then he began to forget his grief a little,
and devote himself to the business of finding a
living. But from being the most sunny-tempered
of cubs, he became, all at once, as peppery as
tabasco sauce."

The Babe wagged his head feelingly. He had
once tried tabasco sauce without having been
warned of its sprightliness.

"As I have told you," continued Uncle Andy,
peering at him with strange solemnity over the
mud patch beneath his swollen eye, "the blueber-
ries were just about done. And as Teddy would
not go down to the lower lands again to hunt for
other kinds of rations, he had to do a lot of hus-
tling to find enough blueberries for his healthy
young appetite. Thus it came about that when,
one day, on an out-of-the-way corner of the
mountain, he stumbled upon a patch of belated
berries, he fairly forgot himself in his greedy
excitement. He whimpered; he grunted. He
had no time to look where he was going. So, all
of a sudden, he fell straight through a thick
fringe of blueberry bushes, and went sprawling
and clawing down the face of an almost per-
pendicular steep.

"The distance of his fall was not far short of
thirty feet, and he brought up with a bump which
left him not breath enough to squeal. The ground
was soft, however, with undergrowth and debris,
and he had no bones broken. In a couple of min-
utes, he was busy licking himself all over to make
sure he was undamaged. Reassured on this point,
he went prowling in exploration of the place he
had dropped into.

"It was a sort of deep bowl, not more than
forty feet across at the bottom, and with its
rocky sides so steep that Teddy Bear did not feel
at all encouraged to climb them. He went sniff-
ing and peering around the edges in the hope of
finding some easier way of escape. Disappointed

in this, he lifted his black, alert little nose, and
stared longingly upward, as if contemplating an
effort to fly.

"He saw no help in that direction ; but his nos-
trils caught a savor which, for the moment, put
all thought of escape out of his head. It was the
warm, delectable smell of honey. Teddy Bear
had never tasted honey; but he needed no one to
tell him it was good. Instantly he knew that he
was very hungry. And instead of wanting to find
a way out of the hole, all he wanted was to find
out where that wonderful, delicious scent came
from.

"From the deep soil at the bottom of the hole,
grew three big trees, together with a certain
amount of underbrush. Two of those were fir-
trees, green and flourishing. The third was an
old maple, with several of its branches broken
away. It was quite dead all down one side,
while on the other only a couple of branches put
forth leaves. About a small hole near the top of
this dilapidated old tree, Teddy Bear caught sight
of a lot of bees, coming and going. Then he
knew where that adorable odor came from. For
though, as I think I have said, his experience was
extremely limited, his mother had managed to
convey to him an astonishing lot of useful and
varied information.

"Teddy Bear had an idea that bees, in spite of
their altogether diminutive size, were capable of
making themselves unpleasant, and also that they
had a temper which was liable to go off at half-
cock. Nevertheless, being a bear of great de-
cision, he lost no time in wondering what he had
better do. The moment he had convinced himself
that the honey was up that tree, up that tree he
went to get it."

"Oh!" cried the Babe, in tones of shuddering
sympathy, as he felt at his leg and his ear ; "oh !
why did n't he stop and think?"

Uncle Andy did not seem to consider that this
remark called for any reply.

"That tree must have been hollow a long way
down, for almost as soon as Teddy Bear's claws
began to rattle on the bark, the bees suspected
trouble, and began to get excited. When he was
not yet much more than half-way up, and hanging
to the rough bark with all his claws,— biff! some-
thing sharp and very hot struck him in the nose.
He grunted, and almost let go in his surprise.
Naturally, he wanted to paw his nose, — for you
know how it smarted !"

"I guess so!" murmured the Babe, in deepest
sympathy, stroking the patch of mud on his ear.

"But that cub had just naturally a level head.
He knew that if he let go with even one paw, he
would fall to the ground, because the trunk of

I9I3-]

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE-TREE

235

the tree, at that point, was so big he could not
get a good hold upon it. So he just dug his
smarting nose into the bark, and clawed himself
around to the other side of the tree, where the
branches that were still green sheltered him a bit.

"Luckily, here the bees did n't seem to notice
him. He kept very still, listening to their angry
buzz till it had somewhat quieted down. Then,
instead of going about it with a noisy dash, as he
had done before, he worked his way up stealthily
and slowly, till he could crawl into the crotch of
the first branch. You see, that bear could learn
a lesson.

"Presently he stuck his nose around to see how
near he was to the bees' hole. He had just time
to locate it — about seven or eight feet above him
—when, again— biff ! and he was stung on the lip.
He drew in his head again quick, I can tell you,
quick enough to catch that bee and smash it. He
ate it, indignantly. And then he lay curled up in
the crotch for some minutes, gently pawing his
sore little snout, and whimpering angrily.

"The warm, sweet smell of the honey was very
strong up there. And, moreover, Teddy Bear's
temper was now thoroughly aroused. Most cubs,
and some older bears, would have relinquished the
adventure at this point; for, as a rule, it takes a
wise old bear to handle a bee-tree successfully.
But Teddy Bear was no ordinary cub, let me tell
you, — or we would never have called him 'Teddy.'
He lay nursing his anger and his nose till he had
made up his mind what to do. And then he set
out to do it.

"Hauling himself up softly from branch to
branch, he made no more noise than a shadow.
As soon as he was right behind the bees' hole, he
reached around, dug his claws into the edge of it,
and pulled with all his might. The edges were
rotten, and a pawful of old wood came. So did
the bees !

"They were onto him in a second. He grunted
furiously, screwed his eyes up tight, tucked his
muzzle down under his left arm— which was busy
holding on— and reached around blindly for an-
other pull. This time he got a good grip, and he
could feel something give. But the fiery torture
was too much for him. He drew in his paw,
crouched back into the crotch, and cuffed wildly
at his own ears and face, as well as at the air,
now thick with his assailants. The terrific hum
they made somewhat daunted him. For a few
seconds, he stood his ground, battling frantically.
Then, with an agility that you would never have
dreamed his chubby form to be capable* of, he
went swinging down from branch to branch,
whining, and coughing, and spluttering, and
squealing all the way. From the lowest branch

he slid down the trunk, his claws tearing the
bark and just clinging enough to break his fall.

"Reaching the ground, he began to roll himself
over and over in the dry leaves and twigs, till he
had crushed out all the bees that clung in his
fur."

"But why did n't the rest of the bees follow
him? They followed this other bear, to-day!"
protested the Babe, feelingly.

"Well, they did n't !" returned Uncle Andy,
quite shortly, with his customary objection to
being interrupted. Then he thought better of it,
and added amiably: "That 's a sensible question,
a very natural question, and I '11 give you the
answer to it in half a minute. I 've got to tell
you my yarn in my own way, you know, — you
ought to know that by this time,— but you '11 see
presently just why the bees acted so differently
in the two cases.

"Well, as soon as Teddy Bear had got rid of
his assailants, he clawed down through the leaves
and twigs and moss — as / did just now, you re-
member— till he came to the damp, cool earth.
Ah, how he dug his smarting muzzle into it, and
rooted in it, and rubbed it into his ears and on his
eyelids; till, pretty soon,— for the bee-stings do
not poison a bear's blood as strongly as they
poison ours,— he began to feel much easier. As
for the rest of his body,— well, those stings
did n't amount to much, you know, because his
fur and his hide were both so thick.

"At last he sat up on his haunches and looked
around. You should have seen him !"

"I 'm glad I was n't there, Uncle Andy !" said
the Babe, earnestly shaking his head. But Uncle
Andy paid no attention to the remark.

"His muddy paws drooped over his breast, and
his face was all stuck over with leaves and moss
and mud—"

"We must look funny, too," suggested the
Babe, staring hard at the black mud-poultice un-
der his uncle's swollen eye. But his uncle refused
to be diverted.

"—And his glossy fur was in a state of which
his mother would have strongly disapproved. But
his twinkling little eyes burned with wrath and
determination. He sniffed again that honey
smell. He stared up at the bee-tree, and noted
that the opening was much larger than it had
been before his visit. A big crack extended from
it for nearly two feet down the trunk. Moreover,
there did not seem to be so many bees buzzing
about the hole."

The Babe's eyes grew so round with inquiry at
this point that Uncle Andy felt bound to explain.

"You see, as soon as the bees got it into their
cunning heads that their enemy was going to

236

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE-TREE

succeed in breaking into their storehouse, they
decided that it was more important to save their
treasures than to fight the enemy. It was just as
it is when one's house is on fire. At first one
fights to put the fire out. When that 's no use,
then one thinks only of saving the things. That 's
the principle the bees generally go upon. At first
they attack the enemy, in the hope of driving him
off. But if they find that he is going to succeed
in breaking in and burglarizing the place, then
they fling themselves on the precious honey which
they have taken so much pains to store, and begin
to stuff their honey-sacks as full as possible. All
they think of, then, is to carry away enough to
keep them going while they are getting estab-
lished in new quarters. The trouble with the fool
bear who has got us into this mess to-day was
that he tackled a bee-tree where the outside
wood was too strong for him to rip open. The
bees knew he could n't get in at them, so they all
turned out after him, to give him a good lesson.
When he got away through the underbrush so
quickly, they just turned on us, because they felt
they must give a lesson to somebody !"

"We did n't want to steal their old honey !"
muttered the Babe, in an injured voice.

"Oh, I 'm not so sure !" said Uncle Andy. "I
should n't wonder if Bill and I 'd come over here
some night and smoke the rascals out. But we can
wait. That 's the difference between us and
Teddy Bear. He would n't even wait to clean
the leaves off his face, he was so anxious for that
honey— and his revenge.

"This time he went up the tree slowly and
quietly, keeping out of sight all the way. When
he was exactly on a level with the entrance, he
braced himself solidly, reached his right paw
around the trunk, got a fine hold on the edge of
the new crack, and wrenched with all his might.

"A big strip of half-rotten wood came away so
suddenly, that Teddy Bear nearly fell off the tree.

"A lot of bees came with it; and once more,
Teddy Bear's head was in a swarm of little, dart-
ing, piercing flames. But his blood was up. He
held on to that chunk of bee-tree. A big piece of
comb, dripping with honey and crawling with
bees, was sticking to it. Whimpering, and paw-
ing at his face, he crunched a great mouthful of
the comb, bees and all.

"Never had he tasted, never had he dreamed
of, anything so delicious ! What was the pain of
his smarting muzzle to that ecstatic mouthful ?
He snatched another, which took all the rest of
the comb. Then he flung the piece of wood to
the ground.

"The bees, meanwhile, — except those which
had stung him and were now crawling, stingless

and soon to die, in his fur,— had suddenly left
him. The whole interior of their hive was ex-
posed to the glare of daylight, and their one
thought now was to save all they could. Teddy
Bear's one thought was to seize all he could. He
clawed himself around boldly to the front of the
tree, plunged one greedy paw straight into the
heart of the hive, snatched forth a big, dripping,
crawling comb, and fell to munching it up as fast
as he could,— honey, bees, brood-comb, bee-bread,
all together indiscriminately. The distracted
bees paid him no more attention. They were too
busy filling their honey-sacks."

The Babe smacked his lips. He was beginning
to get pretty hungry himself.

"Well," continued Uncle Andy, "Teddy Bear
chewed and chewed, finally plunging his whole
head into the sticky mess,— getting a few stings,
of course, but never thinking of them, — till he
was just so gorged that he could n't hold another
morsel. Then, very slowly and heavily, grunting
all the time, he climbed down the bee-tree. He
felt that he wanted to go to sleep. When he
reached the bottom, he sat up on his haunches to
look around for some sort of a snug corner. His
eyelids were swollen with stings, but his little
round stomach was swollen with honey, so he
did n't care a penny. His face was all daubed
with honey and dead bees. And his claws were
so stuck up with honey and rotten wood and bark
that he kept opening and shutting them like a
baby who has got a feather stuck to its fingers
and does n't know what to do with it. But he was
too sleepy to bother about his appearance. He
just waddled over to a nook between the roots of
the next tree, curled up with his sticky nose be-
tween his sticky paws, and was soon snoring."

"And did he ever get out of that deep hole?"
inquired the Babe, always impatient of the way in
which Uncle Andy was wont to end his stories.

"Of course he got out. He climbed out," an-
swered Uncle Andy. "Do you suppose a bear like
that could be kept shut up long? And now I
think we might be getting out too ! I don't hear
any more humming ; I guess the coast 's clear."

He peered forth cautiously.

"It 's all right. Come along," he said. "And
there 's my pipe at the foot of the rock, just
where I dropped it," he added, in a tone of great
satisfaction. Then, with mud-patched, swollen
faces, and crooked, but cheerful, smiles, the two
refugees emerged into the golden light of the
afternoon, and stretched themselves. But as
Uncle Andy surveyed, first the Babe and then
himself, in the unobstructed light, his smile faded.

"I 'm afraid Bill 's going to have the laugh on
us when we get home !" said he.

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT

Author of " Careers of Danger and Daring," " Through the Wall," " The Battle," etc.

Chapter VII

THROUGH THE ROCK

Harold drew out a combination pocket-knife (it
contained a screw-driver, a button-hook, a pair
of tweezers, and various other things) and, seat-
ing himself, proceeded to strike its brass head
against the rock beneath, using a regular tele-
graphic movement.

"Father's call for Mother was M— two dashes,"
he explained ; "I 'm calling M's."

He tapped steadily on the rock. M— M— M —
M-M-M-

The boy paused and listened. There was a
moment's silence, and then came the answering
letter, sharply sounding through the silence of
the desert. W-W-W-W-W-W-

"Hooray!" he cried. "There 's no mistake.
She 's here— somewhere ! My mother is here!
Wait !"

Eagerly he clicked off a message, while Jack
sat near, open-mouthed, like a boy at a melo-
drama.

"Sandy, what are you sending? What are you
asking? Tell me, Sandy."

"I 'm asking where she is. I 'm telling her it 's
I. Keep still."

Now an answering message came that made
young Evans frown.

"What is it? What are you getting?" queried
McGreggor.

"She says I must n't ask where she is. Hold
on !" He translated. "Do— not— try— to— res-
cue— me — did— you — get — word — from — your —
father?"

With quick fingers Harold repeated his fa-
ther's message written on the wall.

"Thank— God," came the reply. "You— must
—go— to— Jerusalem— at— once— answer."

The boy hesitated, and a little gulp came in his
throat. How could his mother ask such a thing !
He turned to his companion with a flash of de-
cision. "I can't do it, Jack. I can't leave my
mother, and I won't."

"That 's the talk," approved the other. "We '11
stay here until the Nile freezes over. Tell her so."

And Harold tapped out the words: "Dear-
brave— mother— I— cannot— leave — you."

He paused, waiting for a reply ; but none came.

"Jack, she does n't answer," cried Evans, in
sudden alarm.

"Not so loud !" cautioned McGreggor. "They
may be nearer than you think."

"They? Who do you mean?"

"Why— er— I s'pose somebody is with your
mother. There must be."

Harold cast his eyes uneasily along the floor of
the desert toward a cluster of rock-hewn tombs
that lie at the base of Cheops.

At this moment, the tapping sounded again,
but less distinctly, as if from a greater distance.
"Will — send — word — be — at — Virgin's — tree-
Virgin's— fountain — "

The message stopped, abruptly.

"Got that, Jack? Virgin's tree, Virgin's foun-
tain?" Sandy whispered.

"Yes, but when? She does n't say when to be
there."

"Wait !"

The clicking came so faintly now that Harold
had to lay his ear close against the rock to make
out the words: "To-morrow— afternoon— three-
o'clock— put— on— hat— chilly— evenings — love."

Then the tapping ceased.

"I guess that 's all, Jack," sighed Evans, after
they had waited a long time. "We 'd better start
back. Is n't that like a fellow's mother, forget-
ting her trouble, to worry about his hat being
off? It is chilly, too. Ugh! These purple shad-
ows may be artistic, but they look creepy to me.
Let 's hustle."

They strode rapidly toward the trolley-car, hands
in their pockets, each absorbed in his thoughts.

"Say, here 's a point !" broke in McGreggor.
"How did she know your hat was off?"

The boys stopped short and faced each other.

"By George !" exclaimed Sandy. "I never
thought of that. How did she know it?"

"She must have seen us. Must have been some-
where where she could see us."

"That 's so, but— where?"

On the ride back to Cairo they discussed the
matter in low tones.

"I wonder where the Virgin's tree is," reflected
Jack. "Ever hear of it, Sandy?"

Harold shook his head.

"She said Virgin's tree— Virgin's fountain.
There must be a tree near a fountain. We '11
have to ask at the hotel, but — "

"What?"

"My mother can't possibly be coming there
herself?"

237

238

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Jan.,

"No."

"Going to send somebody?"
"Probably."
"Or a letter?"
"Maybe."

"It strikes me as a queer situation, Jack."
"Me, too, Sandy."

And in this frame of mind they fell asleep that
night.

Chapter VIII

THE VIRGIN'S TREE

The boys were up early the next morning, and,
having nothing better to do until three o'clock,
they decided to see some of the sights of Cairo
under the escort of a hotel dragoman named Mus-
tapha, who wore a very red fez, and a pair of
ivory-handled pistols in his belt, and who assured
them, in incredibly bad English, that he would
show them the Virgin's fountain, the Virgin's
tree, and other marvelous things.

First the boys visited the beautiful island of
Roda in the Nile, where Mustapha assured them,
with reproachful eyes against their smiles, that
little Moses was discovered by Pharaoh's daugh-
ter. To this island they drifted on a heavy, wide-
nosed scow that plies across an arm of the river.
A bare-legged boatman took his toll of two cents
each with kingly dignity, then caught the long oar
astern, and bent to his work. "Look at those
women," said Jack, aiming his kodak at a dozen
silent, black-clad figures huddled together at one
end of the craft.

"Get onto their brass nose-pieces !" whispered
Sandy. "Careful ! They 're looking !"

"Got 'em !" triumphed the young photographer
as the scow grounded and the Egyptian ladies
hurried off toward the fragrant rose gardens that
stretched beyond.

"I must get a picture of that, too!" exclaimed
McGreggor, and he pointed to a line of stately
barges floating by with brown-skinned men swish-
ing their bare feet in the current, while others
hauled at the long, sharp-slanting yards poised
over stubby masts.

A little later they had luncheon on the balcony
of a charming, shaded inn overlooking the river,
and here Harold discovered that he had lost his
valued pocket-knife.

Finally they set out for the Virgin's tree and
the Virgin's fountain, which two objects of tour-
ist interest were at Heliopolis, they discovered,
just outside of Cairo, and located in the beauti-
fully kept grounds of no less a person than the
Khedive himself. As they drove along the white
road, barefooted urchins raced beside their car-
riage, offering baskets of strawberries.

"Berrees, Me Lord? Berrees, Preence?" called
the little fellows, and finally Jack bought two
baskets for eight cents.

"I '11 blow you off, Prince," he laughed. "Here !
Great country, eh, Sandy?"

They stopped to inspect the oldest obelisk in
the world, then to admire flocks of the white ibis
grazing along the roadside, and presently they
came to a wide-spreading sycamore-tree with
thick, gnarled trunk that threw out its grateful
shade near a clear, gushing spring. These, Mus-
tapha smilingly declared, were the Virgin's tree
and the Virgin's fountain, the latter being used
to water the Khedive's gardens, the former fur-
nishing an income to the Khedive's gardener, who
collected regular fees from tourists eager to see
the spot where the Virgin Mary rested in her
historic flight from the wicked Herod.

Jack looked thoughtfully at the beautiful gar-
dens, the banks of flowers, the vine-covered trel-
lises, the towering palms, and deep-shaded ba-
nana-trees. Everywhere were tropical plants in
profusion, and roses so abundant that a turbaned
gardener came forward offering an armful, while
near by a group of boys prepared future pocket-
money by distilling attar of roses over burning
sticks.

"It 's a great setting," he declared. "Say,
Musty ! You climb up the sycamore-tree— there,
on the first big branch. I '11 take your picture."

Nothing could have made Mustapha happier
than this offer, not even unexpected bakshish.
He first removed his European outer garment (a
sort of light overcoat), so as to show the richly
embroidered jacket underneath and his for-
midable pistols. Then he settled himself on the
branch in plain view, and, looking heavenward
with as much lamblike ecstasy as his Oriental and
swarthy features could command, he sat per-
fectly still.

"Look at him, Sandy ! Take him all in,"
grinned Jack. "Is he a choice product? Is he?
I tell you when a Cairo dragoman takes to posing
as an archangel on a sycamore-tree— well, it 's
worth recording. There !"

As McGreggor pressed the button, Harold's
eyes fell on what looked like a wasp's nest, a
grayish bundle hanging from the branch where
Mustapha was seated. But, as he looked closer,
he discovered black lines running through the
gray mass, and presently he saw that it was not a
wasp's nest at all, but a lady's veil tied around
the branch.

"By George !" he started.

"What 's the matter? What is it?"

Sandy consulted his Waterbury. "Ten minutes
past three? What do you make it ?"

I9I3-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

239

"Twelve minutes past," said Jack. "Give your
mother time."

Sandy shook his head. "She 's had all the time
she wants. The message is here— there!" He
pointed to the tree.

"I see a wasp's nest."

"It is n't a wasp's nest. That 's my mother's
veil— gray, with black lines in it. She wore it the
last time I saw her."

He sprang into the tree, and quickly climbed
out along the branch.

"Well, what do you know about that?" mar-
veled Jack, as he watched his friend untie the
flimsy tissue and carefully descend to the ground.

"Now we '11 see what 's in it— if I can get these
knots untied. I feel the crinkle of a letter. Hello !
Here 's something hard ! Great Scott !"

With a look of absolute amazement, Harold
drew forth the pocket-knife that he had lost that
very morning. Folded around the knife was a
small blue envelop.

"Jack, it 's my knife ! The one I lost ! Look !"

McGreggor gave a long, low whistle.

"Say, these people have been trailing us." He
glanced about him suspiciously, and added under
his breath, "They 're probably somewhere around
here right now."

With pounding heart Harold tore open the en-
velop and drew out several sheets covered with
his mother's handwriting.

My precious son :

I am writing in haste, and cannot say all that I would
like to. The important thing is that you must trust me.
I am the only one who knows the circumstances, and can
decide what is best to do ; and I tell you, dear Harold, you
must not stay here, or try to find me. If I were in danger,
I would urge you to call at once upon the American consul
in Cairo for assistance. But I am in no danger, although,
of course, I am a prisoner ; and I beg you to make no
appeal in my behalf to any of the American or English
authorities. You must make no effort of any sort toward
rescuing me or communicating with me for the present.
It would mean more danger for your father.

Harold, I want you to go to your father at once. I am
so happy that you found his message. God is protecting
us, and will protect us, but you must go to your father. He
needs you, and the only way to save me is to save him
first. Be brave, my son. Trust to your mother's love and
to her knowledge of conditions that you cannot understand,
and do this that she bids you. Do it at once.

And remember one thing : you -will be watched from the
time you leave Cairo. You must not let any one know that
you are looking for your father. Call yourself a tourist.
Say you are likely to return shortly to America, as we
hope we all may. And do not keep this letter! Fix it in
your memory, and burn it.

There is much more to say, but — I must hurry. Be on
your guard against a smooth-talking man with a close-cut
dark beard. I think he 's an Armenian, but he speaks per-
fect English. I noticed a fine, white scar across his cheek,
but the beard almost hides it. The scar runs to the lower
part of his ear, which is rather twisted. This man is em-
ployed by our enemy. It is he who told me that you had

sprained your ankle in the Great Gallery, and made me go
inside the pyramid, where they seized me. He is a dan-
gerous and unscrupulous man — be careful.

My poor boy, it makes my heart ache to put this respon-
sibility on you. I 'm afraid you are short of money, and I
inclose forty pounds, which I have been able to borrow
from a kind person, the one who has promised to deliver
this letter. I shall try to send more money later. Go to
Jerusalem and see the Greek monk. Then follow your
best judgment, but promise me, my boy, that you will
never, never stop until you have found your father ! Tie
my veil around the branch where you found it, as a sign
that you give me this sacred promise to respect my wish
that you do not try to find me, as yet, and that you will
start at once for Jerusalem. God bless you and guide you!
Your loving mother,

Mary Evans.

Harold read the letter slowly and carefully.
Then he turned to his friend :

"Oh, Jack !"

"Yes."

"I want you to see this letter— from my mother.
We have n't known each other so very long, old
boy, but— we 've come pretty close together, and
—there ! Read it !"

Jack read the letter in his turn— carefully and
slowly.

"Well?" he said.

"It looks to me as if I 've got to do what
Mother says."

McGreggor nodded.

"I guess she knows what she 's talking about,
Sandy. Sounds like a pretty fine woman, your
mother."

"Well, I should say she is a— a fine woman,"
Harold choked. "It breaks me all up to leave her,
Jack, but— what she says about Father settles it.
How about that boat we were going to take for
Jaffa— it sails to-morrow, does n't it?"

"Yep. Train starts for Alexandria in the morn-
ing. Go on board in the afternoon and wake up
at Jaffa."

"Did you get the tickets?"

McGreggor nodded.

"Tickets and passports, too. And Deeny 's
got the trunks ready."

"I guess we 'd better go."

"Guess we had."

"And say, Jack ! I want you to bear witness that
I promise— under this tree— by this spring— it 's
a kind of sacred spot—" the boy bared his head
and lifted his fine, earnest face— "I promise never
to stop or give up until I have found my father
and my mother. You hear me, Jack?"

"I hear you, Sandy, and here 's my hand to
help you. I don't care whether I get around the
world or not. I '11 stick by you."

Once more the boys clasped hands. And, after
studying Mrs. Evans's letter so as to forget noth-
ing, they burned it solemnly at the fire where the

240

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Jan.,

young Egyptians were distilling, drop by drop,
the subtle perfume of roses. Then Sandy took
his mother's veil, as she had bidden him, and tied
it to the spreading branch of the ancient syca-
more that grows by the Virgin's spring.

Chapter IX

THE TWISTED EAR

Twenty-four hours later, the two friends were
aboard a Mediterranean steamer bound for the
Holy Land. They had received valuable help
from the American consul, who saw that their
passports were properly drawn, and gave them
some letters to friends in Jerusalem. He also
took charge of Mrs. Evans's trunks until these
should be sent for, and allowed the boys to leave
with him, sealed in an official envelop, the one
hundred and sixty pounds that had caused so
much trouble.

"I don't see what we 're going to do with it,"
the consul declared, "unless some one turns up
who can prove title."

"I '11 never touch a penny of it," insisted Jack.

"Neither will I," said Harold.

The consul smiled.

"All right, boys. I '11 hold it here, awaiting
your order."

The first evening after they went aboard, Jack's
zeal for picture material brought him to the for-
ward part of the vessel, where the deck-passen-
gers sleep, stretched on the bare boards under
stained and tattered blankets, or lie awake, chat-
tering and smoking.

Meantime Harold Evans sat alone at the stern
while the boat throbbed on through the still, warm
night. The boy was in a serious mood. He felt
that this was a critical time in his life. He
thought of his father and mother, and of the task
before him— of the dangers before him.

He looked down at the white path the ship was
cutting in the sea, and wondered what made the
fire spots come and go in the rushing foam, now
little ones like globules of burning oil, now broad,
round ones like moons. He knew they called it
phosphorescence, but forgot the explanation of
it. Then he watched the serious, silent stars and
their changing colors, and presently noticed a
light that flamed up low over the water, and then
went out. A lighthouse on the coast of Africa !
Or had they come to Asia ?

Presently Jack came up, eager to tell of his ex-
periences forward. He had discovered an inter-
esting Syrian who had been all over America —
New York City, and Lynchburg, Virginia, and
Yazoo, Mississippi. He spoke perfect English—
a clever fellow, and— he wanted to be a guide.

"The fact is, old boy, he wants to be our guide,"
added McGreggor.

"We don't need a guide," said Harold. "We 've
got Deeny."

"I know we have, but— he saw me fussing with
my camera and— it seems he knows a lot about
pictures. Says he ran an art gallery in Minne-
apolis, but he went broke."

"We can't 'afford an extra man."

"Ah, that 's the point ! That 's the queer thing
about this chap. He says he '11 work for any-
thing we want to give, or for nothing at all. He
wants to get into the moving-picture game and—
well, he '11 take chances on the future. I told him
I 'd talk to you about it, and we 'd see him in
the morning."

"There is n't any harm in seeing him," said
Harold, quietly.

"I s'pose you 're feeling sort of— sort of broken
up, old boy?" ventured Jack, as he drew up a
steamer chair beside his friend.

"Oh, I— I 've been thinking about things, and —
er— "

"I know. It 's tough, but— I tell you what
pleases me, Sandy, it 's the way your mother was
able to get that letter delivered. She must have
a good friend in the enemies' camp and — that 's
a whole lot."

"Yes, it is."

"And she was able to borrow money, that 's
another good thing. I b'lieve she could get away
if any big trouble came up; I 'm sure she could.'
She does n't want to get away now on account of
injuring your father. Am I right?"

"It looks so, but— what gets me is how any
man can be fiend enough to treat a woman so who
—who 's never done anything but good to
people."

"Don't you worry," soothed McGreggor. "He
'11 get his later on, Mr. Fiend will, and I '11 take a
picture of it. If we can't do anything else, I '11
cable Dad, and he '11 come over. He 'd just love
to get into this game, Dad would. He 'd have
your father and mother back with you mighty
quick, or there 'd be a war-ship lying off Alex-
andria with the stars and stripes over her— now
take that from me !"

"No, no!" objected Sandy. "We must n't do
anything like that. You know what Mother said.
And I 've given my promise. I tied that veil
around the tree, Jack. Besides, I can see her
point. The people who have done this have got
themselves in so deep now that they would n't
stop at anything. We might spoil our only chance
by kicking up a row. We 've got to lay low and
let them think everything 's going their way, and
then, when we see our chance, we '11 land on 'em."

I9I3-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

241

"We '11 land on 'em hard !"
"But we must find Father first, I can see that.
Can't you? And, Jack, we 've got to be foxy.
We must n't let any one
know what we 're after.
Mother says we '11 be
watched. Remember?
Remember that chap
she said to look out
for?"

"Do I? Close-cut
dark beard. Scar across
his cheek."
"A fine scar, Jack."
"Yes, and a twisted
ear. I '11 know him,
all right."

Sandy's face dark-
ened. "And now what
shall we say about our-
selves if any one asks
us?"

"We '11 say we 're in the moving-picture busi-
ness, and we are ! We 've got our outfit to prove
it, the dandiest outfit in Jerusalem."

"That 's so !" agreed Harold. "We 're in the
moving-picture business. And — say, Jack, no-
body must know I 'm the son of Wicklow Evans.
You 'd better introduce me to people as — er — Mr.

EGYPTIAN WOMAN WEARING
BRASS NOSE-PIECE.

A NILE FEKRY-BOAT.

Harold. That sounds all right. When you call
me Harold they '11 think it 's my last name. See ?"

A little later, the boys retired to their state-
room.

When they came up on deck the next morn-
ing, they found the steamer anchored off as
pretty a fringe of murderous reefs as one would
wish to see. And beyond these, laughing in a
blaze of sunshine, lay the ancient city of Jaffa.

Crowding around the vessel were little boats,
tossing uneasily on the swells, and manned by
Vol. XL.— 31.

THE OBELISK AT HELIOPOLIS-
IN THE WORLD.

■THE OLDEST

clamoring Arabs whose business, it appeared, was
to take the passengers ashore.

"Is n't there any harbor here ?" asked McGreg-

ffor.

"Does n't look like it !" said Sandy. "By
George, see that boat ! They '11 be smashed to bits !"

THE PORT OF JAFFA AT LOW TIDE.

As he spoke, one of the little boats with passen-
gers huddled in the stern shot toward the dan-
gerous reef where the sea was breaking fiercely
over black rocks that stood up like ragged teeth.
One tooth was missing, leaving an opening in

242

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Jan.,

the hungry jaw, and the boat was headed straight
for this opening, as they watched it intently.

ing the reef with an opera-glass. "It 's a nasty
sea. Ah ! there goes another boat ! Would you
like to look, sir?"

He offered his glass to
Harold, who' now, through
the powerful lenses, saw the
passage of the rocks with
thrilling distinctness.

"Talk about shooting the
chutes ! Say, Jack, there 's
a moving picture worth tak-
ing !"

"It would be effective,"
agreed the stranger. "The
surf, and the rocks, and the
skill of these Arabs— very
effective."

"Hello !" said McGreggor,
"you 're the man I saw last
night— you know, Sandy, the
one I told you about from
Lynchburg, and Yazoo,
and — "

"And New York City, and
many other places," smiled
the new-comer. "Allow me to
give you young gentlemen
my card."

He drew out his pocket-
book and handed to each of
the boys a card on which was
printed :

MR. ARSHAG H. TELECJIAN

COLLECTOR OF RARE
COINS AND STONES

"HE SPRANG INTO THE TREE, AND QUICKLY CLIMBED
OUT ALONG THE BRANCH."

"They 're dandy boatmen if they get through
there. Great Scott! They 've done it!" cried
Jack, his eyes bulging.

With the splash and lift of a great wave, the
sure-handed Arabs had steered the frail craft
through, and now they were floating safely in the
smooth waters beyond.

"I'll wager those people got soaked," said Sandy.

"They are lucky not to be drowned," remarked
a passenger, standing near them, who was study-

"Thanks," said Jack. "My
name is John McGreggor,
and my friend is Mr. — er —
Harold."

The coin collector bowed
politely.

"You 've been here be-
fore?" asked Harold.

"Many times. This is my
was born in the Lebanon

country — Syria.
Mountains."

"You speak mighty good English."

"I have spent years in America— some happy
years; but— I had money reverses, and— the fact
is I am looking for work."

"So my friend told me."

"We have n't had time to talk that over," ex-
plained McGreggor, "but if you 're going up to
Jerusalem, Mr.—" He frowned at the card.

19I3-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

243

"Say, this name is a bird. Ar-shag H. Tel-ec-
jian. What 's the 'H' for?"

"The 'H' is a misprint. It should be 'M.' My
middle name is Mesrop."

"Mesrop? Sounds like an anagram— you know,
where you change the letters around and make a
new word. Give us the whole thing— I want to
learn that name. Go on," laughed the boy.

"It 's very simple— Arshag Mesrop Telecjian."

"Arshag Mesrop Telecjian," repeated Jack,
with a swagger. "Bet you
can't say it, Sandy."

At this moment, Nasr-ed-
Din came up to warn them
that their boat was waiting,
whereupon the boys invited
the coin collector to join them,
and presently the three were
safe on shore, having passed
the reef unharmed, except for
a ducking of salt spray.

And at the custom-house
Arshag Telecjian befriended
them in a most extraordinary
way, for, while other and
richer tourists were subjected
to endless annoyance and de-
lay, the American boys, with
their trunks, bags, and pic-
ture apparatus, were waved
promptly through the barriers
by smiling and salaaming in-
spectors, all, apparently, be-
cause of a whispered word
from Arshag Mesrop Telec-
jian.

"Say, you managed that-
pretty well, Brother Ashrag,"
said McGreggor.

"Arshag," corrected Sandy.

"I am glad to serve you,
young gentlemen," answered
the Syrian. "It 's better to
avoid opening trunks. If they
had found revolvers, for in-
stance—" he looked at the
boys keenly.

"We have revolvers," ad-
mitted Jack.

"They would have been con-
fiscated. And many other
things— books — magazines — it
's quite annoying. They would
certainly have confiscated your picture apparatus.
You know the Turks call it a sin to photograph
the human face."

"I know that," said Harold.

"Great Scott ! Our whole trip would have
been spoiled !" exclaimed Jack. "It looks to me
as if we need you in our business, Brother Res-
mop."

"Mesrop," corrected Sandy.

"I believe I can be of great service to you,
young gentlemen," said the coin collector, gravely.
"If you are to take pictures successfully in the
Holy Land, you ought to be fully acquainted
with the history and customs of the country."

THE LANDING AT JAFFA.

"We have a man with us," said Harold.

"Ah, yes, a Turk. An excellent servant, no
doubt, but does he know the history, the Christian
traditions?"

244

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

"Are you a Christian ?" asked Jack.

"Of course. I was educated at Robert College,
Constantinople. Suppose you young gentlemen
take me on trial for a few days. Let me show
you around Jaffa — we have two hours before
the train starts. And let me show you around
Jerusalem. Then you can judge."

"What 's the lay-out in Jaffa? I 'd like some-
thing to eat," said McGreggor. "I 've got an
awful appetite. I want a steak, and fried pota-
toes, and chocolate with whipped cream, and hot
waffles with maple-syrup, and a lot of butter."

The Syrian smiled. "I 'm afraid they have n't
all those dishes, but, if you young gentlemen will
come with me, I '11 take you to the cleanest inn in
Palestine, kept by a man named Hardegg."

"Good business !" approved Jack. "Lead us
to Hardegg, Arshag."

They took a rickety carriage with a thin horse,
and drove through a noisy market-place swarm-
ing with Orientals, then through a stretch of
orange groves bursting with luscious fruit, and
finally came to Hardegg's establishment, set
down among gardens of brilliant geraniums.

"If the land of Syria is all like this, I 'm cer-
tainly for it," declared Sandy, as they settled
themselves at a table among the blooms.

"It is n't," answered Telecjian. "It 's very
different from this. It 's very dry and bare, most
of it. Jaffa is the most famous place in Syria for
fruits and flowers. It is also a place of strange
traditions. It was from Jaffa that Jonah sailed
just before the whale swallowed him. It was in
Jaffa that Perseus rescued the fair Andromeda ;
you remember she was chained to the rocks?"

"Yes, yes; but how about Hardegg's eggs?"
interrupted McGreggor.

"I want my Hardeggs soft," chuckled Evans.

A tempting meal with delicious honey was pres-
ently provided, and, while the boys ate, the coin
collector told them about the house of Simon the
tanner, one of the show places of Jaffa, where
"Peter tarried many days with one Simon, a tan-
ner, and went upon his housetop to pray about

the sixth hour." Telecjian quoted the Scriptures
freely.

Then came the journey to Jerusalem, four
hours up a little mountain railway (for the holy
city lies half a mile above the sea level), and, all
the way, the Syrian poured forth a steady stream
of information. He showed them the places
where Samson pulled down the temple, where
Joshua stopped the sun, where David killed Go-
liath, where St. George slew the dragon, where
Richard the Lion-Hearted fought his crusades,
and where Napoleon marched his armies.

"Say, he knows everything !" exclaimed Jack,
as Telecjian left the train a moment at Ramleh
(home of Joseph of Arimathea) to speak to a
Russian pilgrim. "He 's a wonder. But I '11 bet
you can't remember his name, Sandy. Go on !
Bet you can't say it while I count ten. One—"

Harold stopped him with a sharp glance.

"You think yourself very smart, John McGreg-
gor, but if you 'd stop trying to be so funny and
keep your eyes open, you might see a few things
that are right under your nose."

"What things?"

"This man that you 've been chumming with,
where do you think he 's gone ?"

"To talk to ' that Russian pilgrim. Bet you
Ashcar knows six languages,— or even ten."

Harold shook his head. "You 're easy, Jack ;
you 're the easiest boy I ever saw."

"How d' ye mean?"

"He has n't gone to speak to any Russian pil-
grim ; he 's gone to send a telegram."

"What?"

"Yes, and he 's not a coin collector; he 's not a
guide. He 's been sent here by—" the boy's face
contracted in sudden anger— "by the scoundrels
who stole away my mother. I 've been sitting at
this window with the light full on him, and — has
it occurred to you that Mr. Arshag Mesrop Tel-
ecjian wears a close-cut dark beard?"

"Great Scott !" cried Jack.

"Furthermore, there 's a fine, white scar run-
ning across his cheek, and he 's got a twisted ear!"

(To be conthtued.)

AN UNLUCKY LOOK

BY JAMES ROWE

Ma says that she will give to me

A very lovely present,
If through this year I try to be

Obedient, neat, and pleasant.
And so I wear a sunny smile

At breakfast, lunch, and dinner ;

I "m like an angel all the while,

And hope to be a winner.
And— I '11 just read that "Self-Help" book

Each night before I slumber;
But nineteen thirteen has the look

Of an unlucky number !

THE CHRISTMAS TRZL

Mi torJVR St evens J#^

On Christmas night, there is great delight

In the land of the Be-Ba-Bo.
Each house has a window shining bright

With the Bayberry candle glow ;
And it 's really quite a remarkable sight

To see such a luminous show.

Of course the space by the chimney-place

On a Christmas eve is bare,
And of stockings there is never a trace —

But the Be-Ba-Boes don't care.
(Tho' that 's the case, it is no disgrace,

For they have no stockings there.)

246

BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES

[Jan.,

I9I3-]

THE CHRISTMAS TREE

247

Tho' it 's plain to see that he has to be

Of a rather limited size,
Bold Captain Roundy claimed that he

Could manage the enterprise.
(I think with me you will all agree

It was certainly most unwise.)

But he soon withdrew from the public view

And assumed his masquerade,
For his was a heart that never knew

What it was to be afraid.
But alas ! 't is true that the chimney flue

For the Captain never was made.

Maj(tia4i«f

IfcQM

^kg^fr0^'**

The accounts all say that he stuck half-way

And emitted a nautical shout :
'Avast ! Heave-ho ! Hard-a-port ! Belay !

Stand by for to haul me out !"
(For it does n't pay in a flue to stay

If you happen to be quite stout.)

And his resolute crew, who were all true-blue,

Advanced at his wild command.
They saw at a glance that the thing to do

Was to haul him right out by hand.
It-was hard work, too, for he stuck like glue,

As you '11 readily understand.

So they persevered, and they engineered,
And pulled with might and main,

And as the chimney-top was neared,
They sang a chanty strain.

The people cheered when his head appeared,
And the band played "Home Again !"

248

BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES

But don't suppose that the Be-Ba-Boes

Gave up their annual tree;
They have it still— but the Captain goes

Straight out to the open sea.
For he says he knows, tho' the wild wind blows,

It 's the safest place to be.

This is the end; and I '11 tell you why:

The year draws to its close;
The time has come to say good-by

To all the Be-Ba-Boes.
But if you 're passing, by the way,

Shop-windows where they show them,
I hope you '11 stop a bit to say,
"I 'm rather glad I know them."

OLD FABLES BROUGHT UP TO DATE

(Just for fun, and with apologies to s£soJ)

THE SHEPHERD BOY AND THE WOLF

THE MODERN SHEPHERD BOY AND THE WOLF.

THE OLD-TIME FABLE

A shepherd boy who watched a flock of sheep
near a village brought out the villagers three or
four times by crying out, "Wolf ! Wolf !" and,
when his neighbors came to help him, laughed at
them for their pains. The wolf, however, did
truly come at last. The shepherd boy, now really
alarmed, shouted in an agony of terror : "Oh, good
people, come and help me ! Pray come and help
me; the wolf is killing the sheep!" but, though
they heard him, no one paid any heed to his cries.
Moral: There is no believing a falsifier, even
when he speaks the truth.

Vol. XL.— 32. 249

the fable brought up to date

A shepherd boy had a flock of sheep to watch
some distance from the nearest village. He cried
"Wolf ! Wolf !" but the villagers could not hear
him. His master, being informed of this fact, had
a "telephone service" installed, with a direct wire
to his house. The wolf came ! The boy tele-
phoned. The master answered the call, armed
himself with a repeating rifle, got into his 40
H. P. motor-car, raced to the pasture, killed the
wolf, and thus saved his flock !

Moral : The " 'Phone" is mightier than the Yell.

C. J. Budd.

JUNIOR-JTAN

BY RUT/\ 7A5 ENLRY STUART

£S

Junior-man is Mammy's boy,
Don't keer ef he do destroy
Boughten kites an' 'spensive clo'es,
Dat 's de way de juniors grows!
But he plays so swif, some days,
I jes' holds my bref an' prays.
Lamed hisself las' week, po' dunce,
Tryin' to ride two dogs at once,
An', betwix' de two, dey flung
Man so hard he bit his tongue !

Junior 's on'y gwine on seven,
Tall enough to be eleven ;
Grows so fas' befo' my eyes,
I can't keep up wid 'is size.
Got to rise up tall an' straight
An' take on a noble gait
Fit to tote dat Randolph grace,
'Gin' he takes his papa's place !

Little toes is bruised wid knocks,
Caze he hides his shoes an' socks;
Den, when Jack Fros' sniffs aroun',
On de white-hot crackly groun',
Nothin' does but red-top boots
On his little freckled foots ;
Plegged his mama an' his aunts
Tel dey put 'im in dem pants,
So we laid his kilts away
Tel mo' company comes to stay.

One thing sho, his mammy-nurse
She gwine teach 'im to converse
Jes' de way she hears his pa
Set down talkin' wid 'is ma !
Co'se, I has to do it slow,
Caze he 's alius runnin' so !

l^ifeh^

JUNIOR-MAN

251

Alius ketchin' doodle-bugs,
'R pullin' out de bung-hole plugs—
Lettin' good molasses was'e,
Jes' to track it roun' de place.
Now he 's swallerin' o'ange-seeds,
D'rec'ly tastin' cuyus weeds,
Smokin' corn-silk, chewin' spruce,
Laws-a-mussy ! what 's de use
Gittin' flustered up an' vexed,
Dreadin' what he gwine do next.
Wonder is, to me, I say,
Man ain't pizened every day !
Tripped, dis mornin', crost de rugs,
Tryin' to smother me wid hugs
Whilst he hid my tukky-fan—
Sly, mischievous Junior-man !

Man kin squeeze hisself, he say,
Any place a hen kin lay !
Bruised 'is little arms an' legs
Crawlin' 'neath de barn for eggs ;
Got wedged in, one day, so tight,
Nuver got 'im out tel night,
But he hugged 'is little hat,
Filled wid eggs, all whole, at dat !
Man ain't nuver yit give in
Over what he 'd once-t begin !
"Spare my life, Lord, tel he 's riz !"
All my prayer to heaven is.
Would n't want no other han'
Leadin' up our Junior-man !

But I nuver feels jes' right
Tel Man 's in his bed at night.
Time he got los', here las' week,
All I thought of was de creek,
An' befo' dey rung de bell,
I had snook an' searched de well ;
Co'se I know dat 's lack o' faith,
Jes' de way de Scripture saith,
But sometimes Man acts so sweet,
Like a cherubim, complete,
An' dem innocent blue eyes
Seems like pieces o' de skies,
Whilst he questions me so queer
Like he sca'cely b'longs down here.
Dat 's howcome my heart 's so light
When he 's safe-t in bed at night.

Alius begs to set up late,
But at bedtime, 'long 'bout eight,
I don't sca'cely smoofe my lap
'Fo' he starts to blink an' gap ;
An' I totes him up de stairs,
Too far gone to say his prayers;
So, I prays his soul to keep,
When I lays him down to sleep.

' if/if \ /jig

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N V

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^XBZrfL

THE BROWNIES AND THE STALLED TRAIN

BY PALMER COX

The train was stalled a mile or more

From where it should have brought its store

Of goods, to meet the great demand

With holidays so close at hand.

The engine scarcely could be found

'Mid drifting snow that piled around;

The engineer had quit his lever

Until the men made some endeavor

To give the iron horse a show

Upon the track beneath the snow.

By chance the Brownies reached the scene

At evening, as the moon serene

Was struggling through the snowy cloud

That wrapped the mountain like a shroud.

Said one, "We '11 lay aside our play,

And turn to work without delay,

PALt1C\ Co*

THE BROWNIES AND THE STALLED TRAIN

253

For here 's a case will try our powers
And all the skill we count as ours.
The minutes let us now improve.
This engine with its train must move,
Or, failing this, express and freight
And baggage must no longer wait,
Though every Brownie, on his back,
Shall carry to the town a pack."
Some tried to dig the engine out
From drifts that lay in heaps about,
Though small the promise that the scheme
Would end in furnace-fire or steam.
But who can gage or understand
The power of a mystic hand
That is not bound by mortal line
Or limit that its acts confine?

254

THE BROWNIES AND THE STALLED TRAIN

[Jan.,

A shovel little wonder brings
When in the human hand it swings,
But in a Brownie hand— ah me !
A different touch and go we see,
And snow-plows, rotary or straight,
Surpass it only in their weight.
But all were not with drifts content,
For some to freight and baggage bent,
Determined, if no wheel would start,
The goods at least to move in part ;
They gathered from the cars with speed
What every town is apt to need,

Especially that time of year
When feasts and presents should appear,—
Supplies to fill the pantry shelf,
And toys to make one hug himself,
The pussy-cat, the horse and cart,
The jumping-jack, that makes one start,
The evergreens in bundles all
Tied up with care for home and hall,
Some towering tall, some small in size,
But all to give a glad surprise,
And bring the clap of childish hand
And wonder at the scene so grand ;
The pig, presented as a gift,
To give some farmer friend a lift,
And proving, by his plaintive squeals,
'T was rather long between his meals.
" 'T is strange," said one, "what things you find
In cars filled by the human kind;
Potatoes from Bermuda brought,
And fish around Newfoundland caught,

I9I3-]

THE BROWNIES AND THE STALLED TRAIN

255

The broken tackle showing plain
Their elders' lessons were in vain."

It looked as though whatever grew

In Africa, and India, too,

In way of reptile, beast, or fowl,

Was there to hiss, and scream, and howl,

Some things came loose when boxes tipped
That for menageries were shipped,
And, for a moment, it seemed plain
That panic would a foothold gain;
And it took courage of the best
To shove things back into the nest.
For some have daring that will rise
Superior to the shock that tries,
And, as a tonic, give a brace
To others threatened with disgrace.
Said one, "We sometimes reach a scene
Where horrors stare, with naught between,
As if to test the spirit strong
That to a Brownie should belong;
And though some stagger, in the main
We 're equal to the greatest strain."

256

THE BROWNIES AND THE STALLED TRAIN

To nothing say of freaks at hand
That prosper in our native land.
Brought from a tropic clime, a few
Were to the zero weather new,
And, sluggish from the wintry air,
Made little stir or trouble there,
While others, roused and stuffed with ire,
Seemed full of action as of fire.
Fine fruit was there brought many miles
In vessels from far distant isles,
And it went hard, in all their haste,
To pass it on without a taste,
Though ere the task was done, in truth,
Or things beyond the reach of tooth,
Some had a better knowledge won
Of fruit that felt the tropic sun.
' 'T is well," said one, "the night is long
Till sounds the cheerful breakfast gong,
And Brownie hands have much to do
Before our heavy job is through.

The work, as old traditions tell,
We undertake, we finish well ;
The time seems fitted to the task,
And nothing more could Brownies ask."
So box and bundle, crate and can,
Were moved according to their plan,
While in the drifts the engine stood
Without an action bad or good,
No bell in front, no "toot" behind,
Gave warning of a change of mind,
But at their task the Brownies kept,
And moved the goods while people slept,
Till in the station, safely piled,
With creatures of the wood and wild,
The merchandise of every name
Was ready for the owners' claim.

THE CLOCK OF THE CITY HALL IN OLMUTZ. (SEE PACE 262.)

CURIOUS CLOCKS

BY CHARLES A. BRASSLER

Many of the German cities of the Middle Ages
enjoyed great prosperity, which they liked to ex-
hibit in the form of splendid churches and other
public buildings ; and each one tried to excel the
others. When, therefore, in the year 1352,
Strassburg was the first to erect a great cathe-
dral clock, which not only showed the hour to
hundreds of observers, but whose strokes pro-
claimed it far and near, there was a rivalry
among the rich cities as to which should set up
within its walls the most beautiful specimen of
this kind.

The citizens of Nuremberg, who were re-
nowned all over the European world for their
skill, were particularly jealous of Strassburg's
precedence over them.

In 1356, when the Imperial Council, or Reichs-
Vol. XL.— 33-34. =

tag, held in Nuremberg, issued the Golden Bull,
an edict or so-called "imperial constitution"
which promised to be of greatest importance to
the welfare of the kingdom, a locksmith, whose
name is unfortunately not recorded, took this as
his idea for the decoration of a clock which
was set up in the Frauenkirche in the year 1361.
The emperor, Charles IV, was represented, seated
upon a throne ; at the s'trcke of twelve, the seven
Electors, large moving figures, passed and bowed
before him to the sound of trumpets.

This work of art made a great sensation.

Other European cities, naturally, desired to
have similar sights, and large public clocks were
therefore erected in Breslau in 1368, in Rouen
in 1389, in Metz in 1391, in Speyer in 1395, in
Augsburg in 1398, in Liibeck in 1405, in Magde-

258

CURIOUS CLOCKS

[Jan.

burg in 1425, in Padua in 1430, in Dantzic in
1470, in Prague in 1490, in Venice in 1495, and in
Lyons in 1598.

Not all, of course, were as artistic as that of
Nuremberg ; but no town now contented itself
with a simple clockwork to tell the hours. Some
had a stroke for the hours, and some had chimes ;
the one showed single characteristic moving fig-
ures, while others were provided with great as-
tronomical works, showing the day of the week,
month, and year, the phases of the moon, the
course of the planets, and the signs of the zodiac.

AN ASTRONOMICAL CLOCK. AT PADUA.

THE FAMOUS CLOCK IN THE FRAUENK1RCHE,
NUREMBERG.

On the town clock of Compiegne, which was
built in 1405, three figures of soldiers, or "jaque-
marts," so-called (in England they are called
"Jacks"), struck the hour upon three bells under
their feet ; and they are doing it still. The great
clock of Dijon has a man and a woman sitting
upon an iron framework which supports the bell
upon which they strike the hours. In 1714 the
figure of a child was added, to strike the quarters.
The most popular of the mechanical figures was
the cock, flapping his wings and crowing.

The clock on the Aschersleben Rathaus shows,
besides the phases of the moon, two pugnacious
goats, which butt each other at each stroke of
the hour ; also the wretched Tantalus, who at
each stroke opens his mouth and tries to seize a
golden apple which floats down ; but in the same
moment it is carried away again. On the Rath-
aus clock in Jena is also a representation of
Tantalus, opening his mouth as in Aschersleben ;
but here the apple is not present, and the convul-
sive efforts of the figure to open the jaws wide
become ludicrous.

One of the first clocks with which important
astronomical works were connected is that of

I9I3-]

CURIOUS CLOCKS

259

the Marienkirche in Liibeck, now restored. Be-
low, at the height of a man's head, is the plate
which shows the day of the week, month, etc. ;
these calculations are so reliable that the extra
day of leap-year is pushed in automatically every
four years. The plate is more than three meters
in diameter. Above it is the dial, almost as large.
The numbers from i to 12 are repeated, so that
the hour-hand goes around the dial only once in
twenty-four hours. In the wide space between

clock was repaired, some years ago, a very com-
plicated system of wheels had to be devised to
reproduce accurately the great difference in the
movement of the planets. The work consumed
two years. There are a great number of moving
figures on the Liibeck clock, but they are not of
the most conspicuous interest. In spite of this,
however, they excite more wonder among the
crowds of tourists who are always present when
the clock strikes twelve than the really remarka-

THE CLOCK IN THE ST. MARK S SQUARE, VENICE.

the axis which carries the hand and the band
where the hours are marked, the fixed stars and
the course of the planets are represented. The
heavens are here shown as they appear to an ob-
server in Liibeck. In the old works the move-
ment of the planets was given incorrectly, for
they all were shown as completing a revolution
around the sun in 360 days. Of course this is
absurd. Mercury, for example, revolves once
around the sun in eighty-eight days, while Sat-
urn requires twenty-nine years and 166 days
for one revolution. When this astronomical

ble and admirable astronomical and calendar
works.

The Strassburg clock has, more than all others,
an actually world-wide fame ; and no traveler
who visits the beautiful old city fails to see the
curious and interesting spectacle which it offers
daily at noontime. To quote from one such visi-
tor : "Long before the clock strikes twelve, a crowd
has assembled in the high-arched portico of the
stately cathedral, to be sure of not missing the
right moment. Men and women of both high
and low degree, strangers and townspeople alike,

260

CURIOUS CLOCKS

A CLOCK WITH AN OVAL DIAL, IN THE
CATHEDRAL AT LYONS.

await in suspense the arrival of the twelfth hour.
The moment approaches, and there is breathless
silence. An angel lifts a scepter and strikes four
times upon a bell; another turns over an hour-
glass which he holds in the hand. A story
higher, an old man is seen to issue from a space
decorated in Gothic style ; he strikes four times
with his crutch upon a bell, and disappears at the
other side, while the figure of Death lets the bone

in its hand fall slowly and solemnly, twelve times,
upon the hour-bell. In still another story of the
clock, the Saviour sits enthroned, bearing in the
left hand a banner of victory, the right hand
raised in benediction. As soon as the last stroke
of the hour has died away, the apostles appear
from an opening at the right hand of the Master.
One by one they turn and bow before Him, de-
parting at the other side. Christ lifts His hand
in blessing to each apostle in turn, and when the
last has disappeared, He blesses the assembled
multitude. A cock on a side tower flaps his
wings and crows three times. A murmur passes
through the crowd, and it disperses, filled with

THE CLOCK IN ST. MARY S CHURCH, LUBECK.

THE GREAT CLOCK IN THE CATHEDRAL OF STRASSBURG.

261

262

CURIOUS CLOCKS

[Jan.,

wonder and admiration at the spectacle it has
witnessed."

In 1574, the Strassburg astronomical clock re-
placed the older one. It was mainly the work
of Dasypodius, a famous mathematician, and it
ran until 1789. Later, the celebrated clock-maker,

NIGHT VIEW OF THE METROPOLITAN TOWER,
MADISON SQUARE, NEW YORK CITY,
SHOWING THE CLOCK-DIAL ILLUMINATED.

Johann Baptist Schwilgue (born December 18,
1772), determined to repair it. After endless ne-
gotiations with the church authorities, he ob-
tained the contract, and on October 2, 1842, the
clock, as made over, was solemnly reconsecrated.

In very recent days, the clock of the City Hall
in Olmiitz, also renovated, has become a rival to
that of the Strassburg Cathedral. In the year
1560, it was described by a traveler as a true
marvel, together with the Strassburg clock and
that of the Marienkirche in Dantzic. But as the
years passed, it was most inconceivably neg-
lected, and everything movable and portable
about it was carried off. Now, after repairs
which have been almost the same as constructing
it anew, it works almost faultlessly. In the lower
part of the clock is the calendar, with the day of
the year, month, and week, and the phases of the
moon, together with the astronomical plate ; a
story higher, a large number of figures move
around a group of angels, and here is also a good
portrait of the Empress Maria Theresa. Still
higher is an arrangement of symbolical figures
and decorations, which worthily crowns the
whole. A youth and a man, above at the left,
announce the hours and quarters by blows of a
hammer. The other figures go through their
motions at noonday. Scarcely have the blows of
the man's hammer ceased to sound, when a shep-
herd boy, in another wing of the clock, begins to
play a tune ; he has six different pieces, which
can be alternated. As soon as he has finished,
the chimes, sixteen bells, begin, and the figures
of St. George, of Rudolph of Hapsburg, with a
priest, and of Adam and Eve, appear in the left
center. When they have disappeared, the chimes
ring their second melody, and the figures of the
right center appear,— the three Kings of the East,
before the enthroned Virgin, and the Holy Fam-
ily on the Flight into Egypt. When the bells
ring for the third time, all the figures show them-
selves once more.

Clocks operated by electricity are, of course,
the product of recent times.

England's largest electric clock was, as our il-
lustration shows, recently christened in a novel
manner. The makers, Messrs. Gent & Co., of
Leicester, entertained about seventy persons at
luncheon on this occasion, using one of the four
mammoth dials as a dining-table, a "time table,"
as the guests facetiously styled it.

The clock was installed, 220 feet above the
ground, in the tower of the Royal Liverpool So-
ciety's new building, in Liverpool. Each of the
four dials, which weigh fifteen tons together,
measure twenty-five feet in diameter, with a min-
ute-hand fourteen feet long. The hands are actu-
ated electrically by a master clock connected with
the Greenwich Observatory. After dark, they are
illuminated by electricity, and are visible at a
great distance.

Still larger are the dials of the great electric

I9I3-]

CURIOUS CLOCKS

263

clock, situated 346 feet high, in the tower of the
Metropolitan Life Building, on Madison Square,
New York City. They measure twenty-six and
one half feet in diameter. The minute-hand is
seventeen feet from end to end, and twelve feet
from center to point, while the hour-hand mea-
sures thirteen feet four inches in all, and eight
feet four inches from the center of the dial out-
ward. These immense hands are of iron frame-
work, sheathed in copper, and weigh 1000 and 700
pounds respectively.

The big clock and the ninety-nine other clocks
in the building are regulated from a master clock
in the Director's Room, on the second floor, which
sends out minute impulses, and is adjusted to run
within five seconds per month.

At night, the dial, hands, and numerals are
beautifully illuminated, of which we present a pic-
ture, the enlarged minute-hand showing the length
of exposure. The time is also flashed all night in
a novel manner from the great gilded "lantern"
at the apex of the tower, 696 feet above the pave-
ment. The quarter-hours are announced from
each of the four faces of the lantern by a single
red light, the halves by two red flashes, the three
quarters by three flashes. On the hour, the white
arc-lights are extinguished temporarily, and
white flashes show the number of the hour.

This takes the place of the bells operated in the
daytime. They are in four tones, G (1500

IKE TOWN CLOCK AT ASCIlliUSLEBEN . (bEE PAGE 258.

pounds), F (2000 pounds), E flat (3000 pounds),
and B flat (7000 pounds), and each quarter-hour
ring out the "Westminster Chimes," in successive
bars. These are the highest chimes in the world,
being situated on the forty-second floor, 615 feet
above the street level; and they attract much at-
tention from visitors.

HUGE CLOCK-DIAT. USED

ENGLAND. (SEU PAGE 202. )

/AM>

" PARD GLANCED UP INTELLIGENTLY INTO THE FACE OF HIS COMPANION.

KANE AND PARD

(A tale of Christmas eve)

BY ADDISON HOWARD GIBSON

"Here we are, Pard," observed Kane Osborne,
looking regretfully after the receding train that
had just left him at the isolated mountain sta-
tion.

Pard, a bright-eyed, alert Scotch collie, glanced
up intelligently into the troubled face of his com-
panion, a slender lad of fifteen.

Kane shivered in the chill December air which
swept down from the snow-clad peaks, and his
somewhat pale face expressed disappointment as
he looked up and down the seemingly deserted
station-platform.

"No one to meet us, Pard," he said to the tail-
wagging collie. "Maybe he don't want us— he
did n't write that he did, but Uncle Hi was sure
he 'd take us in. It 's Christmas eve, and we 're
all alone, Pard"; and Kane swallowed hard as his
hand stroked the dog's head. A sympathetic
whine was Pard's response.

"Looking for some one, son ?" asked the sta-
tion-agent, coming forward.

"Yes," answered Kane, rather bashfully; "we
're looking for Mr. Jim Moreley."

"Relation of his going up to the ranch to spend
Christmas?"

"No-o-o. Is his ranch near here?"

"About ten miles up Rainbow Canon," in-
formed the agent, eying the boy. "Moreley has n't
been down to-day. Going up for a vacation?"

"To live there, if he '11 keep us," replied Kane.

"Have n't you any other place to go but to
Moreley's ranch?" inquired the agent.

"No place. My folks are all dead, and Uncle
Hi died, too, about five days ago," explained
Kane, trying bravely to keep the tears back.
"There 's just Pard and me left. A lady offered
me a home, but she would n't let Pard stay.
Uncle Hi used to know Mr. Moreley over at
Green Buttes, before he came here, so he got the
doctor to write that he was sending Pard and me
up to the ranch."

"If you go to live with old Moreley, he '11 work
you to death," declared the man. "He 's changed
since he lived at Green Buttes. He 's drinking,
these days, and he 's hard on his help. He has n't
any use for any one who 's not strong," scanning
Kane's thin arms and legs in his worn suit.

"Oh, I '11 be all right when I get to knocking
about the mountains," Kane hastened to assure
the agent, resenting the suggestion of physical

264

KANE AND PARD

265

weakness. "Uncle Hi," he continued, "was sick
nearly four months, and I was shut up taking
care of him, and missed my exercise. Before he
died, he told me to come up to Rainbow Canon.
He was sure Mr. Moreley 'd be glad to have a boy
and a good dog to help with the sheep. I 've
worked on a sheep ranch before, and Pard knows
a lot about the business."

"Well, I 'm sorry for you, kid, if you 're going
up to old Moreley's. Wait a minute." And the
agent stepped to the other end of the platform
and called to an old man who was unhitching his
team from a post in front of a little store near by.
"Hello, Thompson ! Here 's a boy who wants to
go up to Moreley's ranch. Can't you give him a
lift as far as your place?"

"Guess so, if he 's spry," the rancher called
back in a crisp tone. "I 'm in a hurry \" he ex-
plained, climbing into his wagon and gathering
up the lines. "There 's a storm brewin' in the
mountains, and my sheep are scattered in the
canon."

"All right ! Here 's the boy," said the agent.
"Good-by, kid, and a Merry Christmas to you !"

"Here, kid !" called the agent, running after
Kane with an old overcoat. "Put this on. You '11
need it riding up Rainbow. You need n't mind
returning it — it 's too small for me now."

This unexpected kindness brought a lump in
Kane's throat, but he murmured his thanks as he
slipped into the overcoat. Then he climbed into
the wagon. Somewhat impatiently Thompson
moved over in his seat to make room for the un-
welcome passenger. He puckered his brows into
a frown as his sharp gray eyes ran the boy over
critically.

"I 'm in a rush," he asserted, starting his ponies
off briskly up the mountain road.

"Got a dog, I see," he remarked presently, with
something like a sniff, as Pard trotted along by
the wagon. "That feller 's attached himself to
this outfit with a mighty important air. I ain't
no use for dogs ever since Bill Stevens's killed
some o' my lambs. They 're a right smart of a
nuisance— same as boys. Boys ask too many
questions, and stand around and watch the old
man do the work. I had one from Denver, but
he was no good, and I shipped him back. Gid ap,

"SLIDING BACK THE BIG DOOR, KANE REVEALED A WARM, COMFORTABLE SHED." (SEE PAGE 267.)

"Thank you— the same to you!" returned Kane, Pop-corn!" to one of the ponies. "I had a boy
hurrying toward Thompson's wagon, Pard fol- o' my own once," his tone softening as he be-
lowing closely at his heels. came reminiscent. "But pneumony took him off—

266

KANE AND PARD

[Jan.,

pneumony goes hard up here in the Colorado
Rockies. Sairy, my wife, is always at me to get
a boy to live with us, but after my experience
with 'Denver,' no boys for me. No, sir, never
ag'in !"

Kane felt very uncomfortable as Thompson
delivered himself of this speech. At first he
stole only a timid, sidelong glance at the man
who had no use for boys and dogs. But pres-
ently, gathering courage, he surveyed his com-
panion's care-lined face. He decided that Thomp-
son was not as unkindly as his words might
imply.

"Moreley some connection of yours?" he asked
Kane, after driving for some time in silence.

"No," answered Kane, snuggling his chin
down inside the turned-up collar of his newly
acquired overcoat ; "Uncle Hi thought Pard and
I might find a job there."

"Who 's Uncle Hi ?"

"A kind old man I lived with after my father
and mother died."

"Why did n't you stay with him ?" Thompson
asked, darting a suspicious glance at Kane from
under a ledge of bushy brows.

"He died, too, and it took everything to pay
the funeral expenses. Dr. Bently paid my way
up to Rainbow. When I earn money enough, I '11
pay him back and buy a tombstone for Uncle Hi."

"Well, lad, it 's a world o' trouble !" and the old
man sighed deeply. "I was gittin' along tiptop
till our boy died. After that I seemed to run
downhill, and had to mortgage my ranch to Jim
Moreley to keep goin'. But," pridefully, "I got
some fine sheep, and if I 've good luck winterin'
'em, I '11 pay out next fall, and be independent
ag'in."

As they steadily ascended, the wind grew more
chilly and moaned ominously among the pines
that dotted the mountain slopes. The keen air
made Kane's nose and ears tingle, and he drew
closer to his companion.

"Goin' to storm," observed Thompson, squint-
ing toward the sky. "It 's a sure sign when the
pines screech that way. Here we are," he an-
nounced, turning off on a side trail. "That 's my
place," pointing to a homy-looking cottage that
stood in a sheltered arm of the wide canon.

"It 's about three miles up the trail yonder to
Moreley's," he explained. "You can eat a bite
with Sairy and me before goin' on."

As Kane helped unhitch the ponies, a motherly
looking woman called from the house that din-
ner was ready. She made friends with Pard at
once, and brought him a plate of scraps from the
kitchen.

"Some Christmas fixin's for you, Sairy," said

Thompson, as he and Kane deposited on the table
several packages brought from Rainbow.

In the neat, warm kitchen, Kane, seated be-
tween the old couple, ate his share of the good
"boiled dinner" with a gusto caused by a keen
appetite. More than once he caught Mrs. Thomp-
son's kindly eyes fixed on his face with an al-
most yearning eagerness.

The meal over, Pard had another feast in the
shed behind the kitchen. Then, thanking the
couple for their kindness, Kane slipped into the
overcoat and prepared for his climb up to More-
ley's ranch.

"He reminds me so much of Harry," Kane
overheard Mrs. Thompson say in an undertone
to her husband. "Why can't we keep him?
Moreley's will be such a rough place for him."

Thompson muttered something about boys and
dogs being a great deal of bother.

"It seems as if Providence sent him to us,"
she persisted, "your bringing him here, and on
Christmas eve, too ! He 's like a Christmas pres-
ent," with a smile directed at Kane. Then, with
a pleading quiver of the pleasant voice, "Do let 's
keep him — and that fine collie !"

But Thompson shook his head decisively.

"Well, we can at least keep him overnight-
Christmas eve," she pleaded. "It 's three o'clock
now, and these short days it gets dark so early in
the mountains. It 's going to storm soon," look-
ing out of the window, "and the trail being
strange to him, he might miss his way."

"The trail 's all right if he follows it," de-
clared the old rancher, impatiently. "He 'd best
to go on, for Moreley 's a crank, and might think
we 're tryin' to coax the boy from goin' to him."

From the foot of the steep trail Kane waved
his hand to her, as she stood in the doorway
watching him start.

"So much like Harry," she murmured tremu-
lously. "God guard him !"

"Just stick to that trail, and it '11 lead you
straight to Moreley's," directed Thompson, call-
ing after Kane. "Don't waste any time though.
See that cloud rolling over Old Grayback?" in-
dicating a peak, "that means a snow-storm, and
my sheep are scattered somewhere in the canon.
I 've got to hustle."

Kane turned to offer the services of Pard and
himself to help round up the sheep, but Thomp-
son had hurried away and disappeared down the
canon. So he went on up the trail. To reinforce
his courage he began to whistle, but something
in his throat choked him, and he became thought-
ful.

"Pard," gently squeezing the collie's ear, "if
Mr. Moreley don't want us, we '11 be in a fix."

I9'3-]

KANE AND PARD

267

A rapid movement of the tail and a low whine
attested Pard's loyal sympathy.

The cloud over Old Grayback soon obscured
the entire sky. Presently Kane felt fine particles
of snow strike his face, and the path soon be-
came slippery and difficult to keep.

"This is going back two steps to one forward,
Pard !" he laughed, recovering from measuring
his full length on an icy rock.

The wind, accompanied by a steadily falling

into an unseen gorge. Then there might be a
terrible snow-slide from the overladen heights
above. He could see scarcely ten yards in any
direction, and in spite of the overcoat, he began
to feel chilled. He was presently so leg-weary
that he felt inclined to crawl under the shelving
rocks and lie down.

Realizing how fatal such a step might prove,
Kane fought his way across the snow-clad canon,
followed by Pard.

^.jgnutt

"'I VE HAD A FALL AND HURT MY ANKLE,' SAID THE MAN."

temperature, increased in power every minute,
driving the now rapidly descending snow before
it. Kane pulled his cap down to protect his eyes
and struggled on.

The snow soon came down in blinding sheets,
entirely blotting out the trail. Pard kept close to
his master, frequently whining his disapproval of
the storm.

Suddenly Kane realized that he had strayed
from the trail and was stumbling along half-
blindly down a canon over rocks and tangled
bushes. Here the trees broke the fierce, biting
force of the wind. But he had no idea which
way to turn to find the path that he had lost. All
around and enwrapping him was a mass of roar-
ing, smothering whiteness.

Kane had lived most of his years among the
Rockies, but he had never before been lost in
one of their wild winter storms. He knew, how-
ever, that his situation was one of great danger.
Unless he could find shelter, he might become
buried under the snow, or stumble over a ledee

All at once the collie gave a sharp bark and
darted away through the trees, reappearing al-
most immediately and barking up at Kane as if
insisting on his following.

"All right, Pard. Lead on !" directed Kane.

Only a short distance farther, a long shed
loomed vague and specter-like in the wild white-
ness of the evening. Pushing forward, Kane
discovered that it was a rude but comfortable
building for stock. It stood in an arm of the
canon with no house in sight.

Thankful for anything that promised refuge
from the storm, he advanced hurriedly. At the
corner of the building, he halted quickly : a herd
of sheep huddled against the closed door.

Kane's appearance was greeted by a plaintive
chorus of bleats. In their dumb, beseeching way
they accepted him as their belated shepherd.

"All right, sheepsie-baas," he said soothingly
as they crowded about him. "Wait and I '11 see
how things are."

Sliding back the big door, Kane revealed a

268

KANE AND PARD

warm, comfortable shed for sheep and cattle. In
one of the stalls a cow stood munching hay.

"Some one does n't look after his sheep very-
well, Pard," said Kane. "Bring 'em in."

The well-trained collie needed no second bid-
ding. With an assenting bark, he ran around the
shivering flock, which quickly scattered among
the bushes. It proved no easy task to house these
sheep, for, being unused to a dog, the younger
ones were frightened, and at first fled in every
direction. But Kane hurried out to direct mat-
ters, and Pard, wise and careful in his part of
the business, after considerable effort brought
them, an obedient bunch, into their fold. Then
their self-appointed shepherd filled the low racks
with hay, which they began to eat gratefully.

"Well, Bossy," addressing the cow, "we 've in-
vited ourselves to spend Christmas eve with you
and the sheepsie-baas. Here, Pard ! Where are
you?" he called, noticing that the collie had not
entered the shed. Off somewhere in the bushes
Pard began a spirited barking.

"Some stubborn runaways," thought Kane.
"Bring 'em in, Pard," he commanded over the
din of the storm.

Pard sent back a quick, answering bark. Kane
repeated his order, and again the collie responded
with a sharp, imperative bark. Sure that some-
thing was wrong, the boy left the shelter of the
shed, and again faced the fury of the elements.

"Where are you, Pard?"

Kane bent his head to listen for the dog's bark
to guide him. It came, and was instantly fol-
lowed by the sound of a groan — a human groan !

Quickly Kane groped his way through the un-
derbrush of the canon. Guided by Pard's persis-
tent barking, he at last reached an object lying
among the rocks almost buried in snow. A nearer
survey revealed to the lad a man lying prostrate
and helpless in a little clump of bushes.

"I 've had a fall and hurt my ankle so I can't
walk in the snow !" said the unfortunate man,
groaning with pain, as Kane bent solicitously
over him.

"Why, it 's Mr. Thompson !" cried Kane, in
surprise. "How did it happen?"

"In trying to bunch my sheep, I slipped on a
rock and took a bad tumble," explained Mr.
Thompson. "I dragged myself through the snow
as far as these bushes, then my strength give out.
The pain and cold together made me kind of lose
my senses, I guess, till the dog roused me."

Half-leading, half-dragging the rancher, Kane
managed to get him to the shed. Here, on an im-
provised couch of hay and empty sacks, the dis-
abled man watched his safely sheltered flock
taking their supper in calm content.

"Well, Providence works funny sometimes !"
he ejaculated. "There I was, flounderin' in the
snow, disablin' myself, and worryin' for fear my
sheep 'd all perish ; and at last I thought I was a
goner myself. And there you was, losin' the trail
all for a purpose, to do my work, and save my
life."

"It was mostly Pard," asserted Kane, stroking
the collie's head. "He drove the sheep in and
found you."

"It was the two of you/' corrected Thompson,
looking gratefully at the boy and his dog. "I 'm
not harborin' any more prejudices ag'in' boys and
dogs — you two in particular. The storm 's
knocked them prejudices all out o' me. The
house is jest round the bend of the canon. The
wind 's fallin' now, and purty soon you can go
and tell Sairy what 's happened. I ain't goin' to
let Jim Moreley have you ! You and Pard are
Christmas presents for Sairy and me !"

In silent thankfulness, Kane, too happy for
words, pressed the rancher's hand. Pard only

COOKING CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT
The earliest methods of cooking about which we
know anything definite, as far as this country is

A FIREPLACE IN A PUEBLO HOUSE OF A LATER PERIOD.
The hood is held in place by ropes about a pole. In the foreground
is shown a slab for baking cakes, with place for a fire under it. At the
back a stone supports a pot holding it above the fire.

PUEBLO COOKING PITS.
Two of these have been sealed up to cook the food in
them, and the woman is heating the third by stirring up
the fire in it through the poke-hole. Her husband has just
returned from the field with some corn, and has stopped to
see how the fire is progressing.

concerned, were carried on by the ancient Pueblo
Indians of New Mexico and Arizona.

Most of their cooking was done out-of-doors in
pits dug in the ground, from eighteen to twenty-
four inches deep. These were made in rows, or
singly, with rims raised about eight inches above
the ground. They were covered with stone slabs
and sealed with mud during the cooking opera-
tion. A hot fire was first made in them, and,
when the desired temperature was attained, all
the fire and ashes were taken out, a large pot of
corn-meal mush was put in, and the pit sealed for
several hours, or until the mush was thoroughly
cooked.

Later, when they built masonry houses, they had
well-made chimneys and fireplaces. One of the
illustrations shows a fireplace with a "hood" to
carry away the smoke and the fumes from the
cooking — a contrivance that few modern houses
possess.

Corn was cultivated and acorns were gathered,
this latter usually being done by the women, who
also did the cooking. Meal was made from the
corn or the acorns, and a batter prepared from
this meal was baked in thin cakes on a stone slab
directly under the fire hood. The temperature
of this stone was kept right for cooking by adding

269

270

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Jan.,

brush to the fire beneath it, and as both ends were
open, the draft was all that could be desired.

These ancient Indians were expert potters, and
made vessels in which mush and meats were
boiled. The pots were often supported by large
stones which held the pot against the wall and
above the fire.

Other and later Indian tribes of the far West
cooked quite differently, or even, before kettles
were to be had, ate some of their food raw. The
Hupa Indians of northern California wove water-
tight baskets in which they cooked acorn-meal
mush by dropping several hot stones into the
mixture of water and meal. They also baked on
soapstone dishes over glowing wood fires. The
Indians who could get fish used to cook them on
a "spit" over a fire, or boil them with other food
in baskets, as already described.

While many Indians were cooking their food
out-of-doors, the Eskimos, who had little or no

A drawing of General Washington's camp
gridiron is here shown. It was made from the
original in the National Museum, at Washington,

' //•<"/ tff.2

AN EARLY INDIAN METHOD OF COOKING FISH.

A HUPA INDIAN OF NORTHERN CALIFORNIA.
He is lifting the last of five very hot stones, which he will put into
the basket where the others have made the mush boil. The stone is so
hot it makes the sticks by which he is lifting it smoke and burn.

wood, were cooking theirs over soapstone lamps
in their huts of ice, by boiling it in soapstone
dishes hung from a grating at the top of the room,
though much of their meat and fish was eaten
raw. All of these people ate practically one
daily meal — at evening — so very little cooking
was required. Later, when driftwood could be
had, large fires were made outside.

With the early settlers, and their comfortable
ceiled log-cabins, came the large stone fireplaces
with their great copper pots and iron kettles,
swinging upon iron cranes in the chimney-place.
The little "Dutch oven" was also used, and was
convenient, as it stood on legs and could be cov-
ered with hot coals as well as have them under it.

where many of the objects described in this arti-
cle may be seen.

In those old days in the colonies, many meth-
ods were used for cooking, over and before the
fire. There were horizontal, and vertically re-
versing gridirons. The latter would bring both

AN ESKIMO REINDEER STEW.

This is cooked indoors in a large, rectangular, soapstone
vessel over a soapstone oil-lamp.

sides to the fire. Fowls were hung on iron rods
suspended before the fire with dripping-pans be-

"S'3-J

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

271

neath them. Muffin-tins were propped up before
the great fires so that their contents might get
well browned, and, in the south, the old planta-

AN INDIAN'S IRON POT FOR HOILING MEAT.

tion negroes cooked their "hoe-cake" on the
blades of their field hoes.

The great fireplaces, with their hanging pots

ANOTHER METHOD OF USING A

POT OR KETTLE.

the iron cook-stove had been perfected, came the
steel range, and, later, the gas-range, and the
oil or gasolene stoves. One little novelty in gas-
stoves is worthy of mention. It is the camping-
or cooking-stove which pleased Dr. Nansen so
well that he took it with him on his polar expe-
dition. It makes its own gas by vaporizing
kerosene. A small pump forces the oil by air
pressure into the tubes of the stove, where it is
vaporized and burned.

Cooking by steam was used on steamships and
in large establishments for many years before a
practical steam cooker was made for the home.

and kettles, were used even after the first crude
cook-stoves appeared, about the year 1850. After

A PLANTATION NEGRO COOKING HOE-CAKE IN HER CABIN.

The great advantage of these cookers is that
nothing can burn in them. Food so cooked re-
tains all its juices, and is made tender and
appetizing. The cooking is done under steam
pressure, as the doors are tightly closed. The one
here illustrated is placed over a fire ; water in the
copper tank below is turned to steam, which cir-
culates about the food and condenses on the coni-
cal top, from which it runs toward the sides of
the cooker, instead of dripping into the food,
and returns to the tank. When the water falls
below a certain level, a whistle blows vigorously
to call for "more water."

About six years ago, the "tireless" cooker made

272

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Jan.,

forms. The cast-iron (black) plates seen, one
above and another below the cooking vessels, are
first heated. When very hot, one or both may be

A settler's stone fireplace.

This shows the crane and, at the right, a "johnny-cake" being
cooked by the hot fire as it is spread in a thick dough on a rough board.

its appearance. It does not cook without fire,
but it does retain the cooking heat. Many mod-
els are now obtainable, some in box form with

A. THE EARLY DUTCH OVEN. B. GENERAL WASHINGTON'S

CAMP GRIDIRON, WITH SLIDING HANDLE FOR

CONVENIENT PACKING.

A MODERN" STEAM COOKER ON AN OIL-STOVE.
Note the circular condenser on the top at right.

used and radiate their heat in the apparatus. In
this cooker, instead of several pads and a tight-

A SECTIONAL VIEW OF A TIRELESS COOKER

AND ITS CYLINDRICAL COVER.

Between the heated cast-iron plates, which show black

in the drawing, are two cooking pans.

several deep cooking compartments. The accom-
panying illustration shows one of the round

THE LATEST ELECTRIC COOKER.

Upon this two eggs have just been poached and the pan lifted to

show the heating wires. Another cooking pan is underneath.

1913-1

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

273

fitting lid, a large cylinder, closed at the top, is
pushed over the iron plates and the cooking
dishes, until its top forms the top of the cooker.
The heat finds it difficult to get out of this closely
fitting cylinder, so it remains to cook the food,
which it does to perfection, from meats and
cereals to corn-bread !

The inner sides of these cookers are packed
with mineral wool — asbestos. In some of them,
no heating-plates are used, but the food to be
cooked is allowed to boil for a few minutes, and
then, set into the cooker and tightly covered, the
cooking process continues, until the food is ready
for the table. A "home-made" fireless cooker was
exhibited recently at the International Hygienic
Congress at Washington. It was made by placing
a large pail in a box of tightly packed hay, and
is said to have cost only one dollar.

Our street-cars have for some time been heated
by electricity. Electric cookers are still more
modern, but we have electric toasters, griddles,
ovens and ranges of various shapes and sizes, up
to large cabinet affairs with heat indicators and
clocks by which the cooking may be regulated.
The principle used in the cooking apparatus is
the same as that used in the car. The current
from large wires is fed to smaller wires which
offer a sudden resistance, and the heat thus
produced soon becomes intense.

Harry B. Bradford.

BLOOMS IN DECEMBER

The so-called Christmas rose (Hellcborous niger)
is not a rose, though somewhat rose-like in ap-
pearance. It is a little plant belonging to the

buttercup family, with five-petaled, waxy, white
flowers two or three inches across. It is not yet
known just how far north this plant is hardy, but
it has been grown successfully in Rochester, New
York. The accompanying illustrations were taken

THE CHRISTMAS "ROSE.

Vol. XL. -3S.

SOMETIMES THE "ROSE BLOOMS AMID THE SNOW

by Mr. Nathan R. Graves of that city. We shall
be glad to receive reports from our readers as to
other northern latitudes in which it thrives and
blooms. We hope that our young people will send
photographs of the plants when in bloom.

274

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Jan.,

^"BECAUSE- WE
(WANT TO KNOW"

WHY WE CAN SEE SMOKE

Ithaca, Mich.
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please tell me in "Na-
ture and Science" what smoke is? If it is a gas, how can
we see it?

Your devoted reader, A. B.

Smoke is not composed of gases only, but of
solid, or perhaps partly liquid, particles, which
are mixed with the gases and carried along by
them. It is these particles of matter that are
visible to the eye, and not the gases themselves.

remarkable twining of honeysuckle vine

Santa Rosa, Cal.
Dear St. Nicholas: The accompanying photograph is of
a section of an oak-tree about which a wild honeysuckle lias

CLOSE TWINING OF HONEYSUCKLE ABOUT
A TWISTED OAK BRANCH.

twined. The vine is about an inch in diameter. It some-
what resembles a mammoth corkscrew.

Peter Kirch.

discovered flowers on one-year
raspberry ".cane"

Canton, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas : We have a black raspberry, or
"blackcap," bush near our front porch. The other day
I was surprised to see flower buds on one of the canes that
had grown up this year. As the berries are usually borne
on the two-year-old canes, it seemed that there must have
been unusual vigor in the plant or some other reason for
this thing. Can you give me any light? I am much in-
terested in berries and berry-growing.

Your reader and friend,

S. Merrill Foster (age 16).

Most of the varieties of black raspberries — in
commerce known as "blackcaps" — produce strong
canes one season, on which, the following year,

are borne the fruiting branches, after which
this cane dies. Unusual conditions, however,
often result in unusual developments, so that
this rule is not always strictly adhered to in na-
ture, though the normal blackcap raspberry is
more regular in this respect than most of its near
relatives.

There are a number of red raspberries, for in-
stance, which make a regular practice of fruit-
ing freely in the fall on the terminals of that
year's growth. It may be, in the instance you
cite, that the stems producing these late flower
buds were in reality extra strong shoots borne
from near the base of the terminal stems of last
year. After all, if this blackcap is a seedling,
and shows a tendency to produce flower buds on
new canes, it might be worth your while to give
it ample opportunity to develop, as it may prove
to be a new variety which would have value for
garden purposes. Ernest F. Coe.

HUMMING-BIRDS

Cleveland Heights, O.
Dear St. Nicholas: Outside the windows of my room
is a window-box. I often sit and watch the humming-birds
which visit the box. One day, I saw as many as six in
half an hour. I have noticed that a humming-bird will
hover before a flower, and after sipping the honey from it,
will fly on to another, and a second bird will come and pause
in the air before the flower, about a foot away, and, appar-
ently finding nothing in it, go on to another. Can they see
into the flower at that distance, or is it true that they do
not get honey but tiny insects from it? If that is so, can
they hear the insects so far away?

Your devoted and interested reader,

Katharine B. Scott.

Humming-birds are known to feed very largely
on insects which they gather from the flowers,
but whether they can hear insects from a dis-
tance, I am sure I do not know.— Frank M.
Chapman, Curator of Birds, American Museum
of Natural History, New York City.

cracks in hands and fingers

Topeka, Kans.
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please tell me why cracks
get in your hands and fingers when you get them very wet?
I would like to know very much.

Your loving reader,

Theodore McClintock.

The tissues of the body have more salts than
are usually found in fresh water. When you
have more salt on one side of an animal mem-
brane than on the other, nature tries to equalize
the amount on both sides. Salts, leaving the
tissues of the hands to go into the water, leave
the cells partly emptied of their contents. They
do not hold together well, and "cracks" result. —
Robert T. Morris.

I9'3-]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

275

A HORNET'S NEST IN THE PEAK OF A HOUSE

MONTEAGLE, TENN.

Dear St. Nicholas: I am sending a picture of a large
insect nest. The nest was in the gable of a roof of a house,

,^*^w.

■

mLJ

*?&&

| | £&&*'

HHHHHB

A HORNET S NEST IN THE PEAK OF A ROOF.

so I could not see whether there were hornets or wild bees
in it, so I drew the picture. It seemed to be covered with
gray folds. Will you please tell me what it is?
Respectfully,

Frank M. Hull.

Hornets are fond of building their nests in the
peaks of houses. There is one in the peak of my

office, so, as soon as I received your letter, I
went out and took a photograph of it. The nests
of hornets are built of the weather-beaten fibers
from old fences, boards, or other wood.

A SNAKE HAS POOR SIGHT WHEN
SHEDDING ITS SKIN

Dear St. Nicholas : Is it true that rattlesnakes are
partly blind at this time of the year (August)? If so,
will you kindly explain why it is? Are other snakes that
way too? Sincerely yours,

M. Coster.

Rattlesnakes are at no time blind or unable to
see well enough to strike with accuracy. The
only time when a snake's vision is affected, oc-
curs shortly prior to the shedding of the skin, at
which time the eyes are covered with a thin,
bluish covering. Even in this condition the snake
sees fairly well, although its vision is not so
clear as at other times. Snakes usually shed in
the early spring, early in July, then late in Au-
gust.—Raymond L. DlTMARS.

eleven thousand sea-urchins in one pile

Monterey, Cal.
Dear St. Nicholas : The accompanying photograph shows
eleven thousand sea-urchins. They were gathered along
the shores of Monterey Bay by Japanese fishermen, who
sold them to a local curio dealer to be made into jewel-boxes,
pincushions, and shell jewelry.

The California sea-urchin {Toxoneustes franciscorum') is
purplish in color instead of green, like some of the eastern
forms. They are found in greater quantities here than in
any other place along the coast.

Yours very truly,

Harry Ashland Greene, Jr.

From a photograph by Arthur Inkersley.
ELEVEN THOUSAND SEA-URCHINS DRYING.

Last month, as you will remember, our young writers and
artists rounded out "a year of glorious life" with an ex-
hibit of contributions that for general excellence has per-
haps never been surpassed in all the history of the League.
And now this January number fittingly opens another
twelvemonth with a list every whit equal to that of Decem-
ber in merit and promise.

It is a pleasure indeed to think of the thousands of homes
throughout the land in which the arrival of St. NICHOLAS
means not merely the reading of stories and verses, but the
writing of them, as well, by the eager-minded girls and
boys of the household ; not merely the enjoyment of the
masterpieces of great artists or illustrators, but also the
earnest effort by ambitious young folk to produce pictures
for themselves — whether beautiful, or realistic, or "full
of fun." For blessed be humor! and St. Nicholas
readers have, happily, a plentiful supply of it.

It is indeed a rich argosy that comes back to the League
harbor twelve times a year — this treasure-trove of youth-
ful inspiration and endeavor.

And in simple justice to the young contestants, the story
of their devotion and success ought to be more widely
known and appreciated. Not only the parents, but the
teachers and friends of these gifted and masterful young
folk ought to have the pleasure of contemplating their
work. Moreover, the workers themselves should be sure

of having special magazine copies of their own, for pres-
ervation, so that in after years they may turn back to these
pages and behold again the verse or story, the drawing or
photograph that gave a thrill of pleasure to their St.
Nicholas days, and proved the starting-point of greater
achievement, or — who knows? — even of their life-work.

All this, therefore, is merely the introduction to the fol-
lowing

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

Beginning with the present number, St. Nicholas will
hereafter send to every girl or boy whose contribution is
printed in the League pages — whether verse, prose, draw-
ing, photograph, or original puzzle — four copies of the
number of the magazine in which it appears.

We hope that through these special copies, set apart for
our young contributors, many of their friends and relatives,
who might not otherwise see it, may be brought into touch
with the admirable work of the League girls and boys, and
thus insure to it the wider and fuller recognition that it de-
serves. But a still stronger reason is our wish to express
in a more personal way than by general words of commen-
dation, or even by the gold and silver badges, our appre-
ciation of the zealous, persistent effort that the League
members are so loyally giving, month by month, to the
competitions.

PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 155

In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.

PROSE. Gold badge, Mary Kathryn Fagan (age 14), Savannah, Ga.

Silver badges, Lawrence Marcinkowski (age 16), Chicago, 111.; James E. Macklin, 2d (age 11), Kansas City, Mo.;
Archie Dawson (age 13), New York City.

VERSE. Gold badges, Elsa Anna Synnestvedt (age 15), Pittsburgh, Pa.; Lucile Benton Beauchamp (age 17),
Blossom, Tex. ; Lucile E. Fitch (age 16), New Orleans, La.

Silver badges, Grace Olcott Rathbone (age 17), New York City; Mary E. Wells (age 13), Newbury, Vt. ; Helen
Hunt Andrew (age 14), Sodus, N. Y.

DRAWINGS. Gold badges, E. L. Wathen (age 17), Mt. Vernon, N. Y. ; Dorothy Hughes (age 14), Rockville
Center, L. I.

Silver badges, Beatrice Bradshaw Brown (age 13), Chicago, 111. ; Frederick W. Agnew (age 14), Pittsburgh, Pa. ;
Frances W. Koewing (age 17), West Orange, N. J. ; J. Harry McNeaney (age 15), Hamilton, Ont.
PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badges, Willard Vander Veer (age 17), New York City; Clyde N. Kemery (age 15), Co-
lumbus, O. ; Elizabeth Ferguson (age 16), Central Valley, N. Y.

Silver badges, Leslie M. Burns (age 15), Colorado Springs, Col. ; Junior Scruton (age 15), Sedalia, Mo. ; Mary S.
Esselstyn (age 13), New York City; Mildred Maurer (age 13), Alameda, Cal. ; Mary Celeste McVoy (age 11), St.
Cliarles, Mo. ; Robert C. Harrington (age 14), Orange, Mass.

PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badges, Beatrice Wineland (age 14), West Philadelphia, Pa. ; Anthony Fabbri (age 15),
New York City; Whitney Hastings (age 15), Mt. Hermon, Mass.
PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badge, Howard Kirby, Jr., Saranac Lake, N. V.

'AROUND THE CURVE. BY LESLIE

(SILVER BADGE.)

M. BURNS, AGE 15

AROUND THE CURVE.

BY I'AULINE PIFFARD, AGE 13.

276

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

277

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY ELSA ANNA SYNNESTVEDT (AGE 1 5)

(Gold Badge)
The bells in yonder steeple chime
A welcome music, sweet and clear,
To usher in the new-born year,
Which, like a book unopened lies,
Bound with the iron clasps of Time,
And hidden from our eager eyes.

Its contents are unknown, as yet ;
But, with the year's advancing age,
'T will open to us, page by page,
And we shall see, as through a door,

What griefs and sorrows must be met,
What joys for us are held in store.

AROUND THE CURVE. BY WILLARD VANDER VEER, AGE 17.
(GOLD BADGE.)

Grant that we may have strength to bear
With fortitude all tests, and learn
From every gloomy thought to turn ;
So let the bells bring hope and cheer,

And carry through the wintry air
Good tidings of the coming year.

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY LAWRENCE MARCINKOWSKI (AGE 16)

(Silver Badge)
The greatest invention of all time is printing. No other
one single invention is so essential to our well-being as
is this. Take away the telephone, and we still have the
telegraph ; take away the railway, and we can use the
automobile and the horse, and even the aeroplane, when
that is perfected. But to take away the art of printing-
would be to do away with civilization, to make us bar-
barians, as we were before its coming. By printing,
the thoughts and deeds of men are brought down
through the ages. The printed newspaper molds our
opinions ; it discards the element of distance, bringing
the doings of the remote parts of the earth to our very
door. The printing-press is the dispenser of know-
ledge and education.

With the fifteenth century came the invention of
movable types ; this is usually called the invention of
printing. No improvements of note were made until
1800, when a man named Napier 'invented the cylinder-
press. Since then the art has been steadily progressing,
until to-day there is scarcely a town that does not boast
of a newspaper, and of a press which turns out a
minimum of six miles of paper in an hour. Printing-

presses used by the big city dailies turn out thirty thou-
sand sheets an hour.

The cheapness of printing to-day has much to do
with our progress. Every one reads a newspaper, and
books are cheap enough for every home. Libraries are
filled with thousands of volumes, within the reach of all.
It is the cheapness of printed matter, and the easy
access to knowledge, that makes the world as civilized
as it is. And it is because of the large part which
printing plays, in civilization, that I consider it the
greatest invention.

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY CAROLINE MAC FADDEN (AGE 14)

It seems to me that the greatest invention is the wheel.
Not a bicycle, but a common, ordinary wheel. This
may seem a small thing, but without it many of the "big
things" could not be made. There would be no aero-
planes, bicycles, trains, electric cars, elevated trains,
automobiles, or carriages. Most of the modern ma-
chinery has some parts that are turned by or connected
with wheels. Many of the garden implements, such as
the wheel-hoe, wheelbarrow, harrow, plow, lawn-mower,
and as many others, are run partly by wheels. A great
many of the children's toys are on wheels, and it is
generally these that are the most fascinating. So, al-
though it may seem a small thing, the wheel has proved
itself the most lasting invention of the age.

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY LUCILE E. FITCH (AGE 1 6)

(Gold Badge)
Now flown forever in the gloom of night,

The year that was, the year that is no more ;
So each lost day, replete with old delight,

Shall take its place among the days of yore.
Another era lies beyond the morn,

Another twelvemonth brings its beauties near ;
And, roused by whisperings of things new-born,

All tremulously breathes the wakening year.

'AROUND THE CURVE." BY ELIZABETH FERGUSON, AGE 16.
(GOLD BADGE.)

There is a buoyancy upon the air.

Across the snowclad earth sly sunbeams play.
The winter violet, with petals fair,

Shakes from its jeweled cup the icy spray.
Off silvern branches frozen dewdrops fall

Into a winding streamlet, crystal clear,
And o'er the distance comes the wild bird's call,

Singing the matin of the wakening year.

278

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Jan.,

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY JAMES E. MACKL1N, 2(1 (AGE II )

{Silver Badge)
It seems to me that the aeroplane is the greatest in-
vention.

There are three types of heavier-than-air machines,
but only the aeroplane has been successful.

AROUND THE CURVE. BY ROBERT C. HARRINGTON, AGE 14.

(SILVER BADGE.)

The machine that Fowler crossed the continent in,
was at Overland Park, Kansas, and I saw him make a
successful flight with a woman passenger.

There are four types of aeroplane : the monoplane,
biplane, triplane, and multiplane. The triplane and
multiplane have flown, but are unsuccessful.

The Curtiss and the Wright machines, both biplanes,
are the most noted in America.

In 1906, the Wright brothers patented the first suc-
cessful aeroplane. Since that time, they have changed
it, having put both the vertical and horizontal rudders
in the rear.

The Wright, and Curtiss machines have the propellers

in the back, and
the Bleriot and
the Antoinette

monoplanes have
them in front.

By having the
propellers in front,
it makes the mono-
plane swifter and
steadier, and more
easily controlled.

The Curtiss ma-
chines are the
ones used by the
United States

Army. They are
small and swift,
and weigh but
little.

The Wright ma-
chine has two pro-
pellers, turning in
opposite direc-
tions. The turn-
ing of these crank
the motor, and the aeroplane goes over the ground until
it gets a speed of twenty-five or thirty miles an hour,
and then it goes gradually upward.

The air was the hardest thing to conquer. It is
being conquered now, and that is why I think the aero-
plane is the greatest invention.

AROUND THE CURVE. BY 1IILDREI:

MAURER, AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.)

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY GRACE OLCOTT RATHBONE (AGE 1 7)

(Silver Badge)
The snows of March cling softly to the ground,

Shielding the naked soil of field and hill ;

Vainly I listen for a brawling rill —
Each brook lies captive, mute, and fetter-bound.
The trees stoop shiveringly, bleak, uncrowned

With summer verdure. Ice-enwrapped and still

The hushed earth slumbers breathlessly, until
My heart despairs of any stir or sound.

Eut stay! from off the mountains blue and dim,
A gentle breeze its fitful passage wings,
Bearing a promise, warmth, and fragrance rife ;

Grandly the zephyr swells into a hymn,

And as it floods the world, like sunshine, sings:
"I am the Resurrection and the Life."

THE GREATEST INVENTION
(A true story)

BY ELEANOR NAUMBURG (AGE II)

Mr. Hanes was very much interested in wireless tele-
phony, and always said it was going to be the greatest
invention of the age.

One nice, bright day, Mr. Hanes walked down to the
dock of a New Jersey summer resort to watch some of
the sail-boats along the coast.

"THROUGH THE WINDOW." BY LUCY F. ROGERS, AGE 14.

While he stood there, he heard a strange voice, but
could not imagine where it came from.

After listening to several messages, he asked where
they were coming from. The voice answered and said :

"I am speaking from the tower of the World Build-
ing in New York, through a wireless telephone."

After convincing himself that all this was really true,
he immediately rushed back to the hotel at which he
was stopping, to tell the guests that he had received a
successful message through the wireless telephone.

Mr. Hanes telephoned to the World Building to in-
quire all about the wireless telephony, and to ask who
had sent the messages. They then informed him that
they knew nothing about it.

Later in the day, some of the captains of the boats
near by said that they saw a man on the dock who
seemed to be working the muscles of his throat. This
man turned out to be a ventriloquist. He had known of
Mr. Hanes's interest in wireless telephony, and had
played this joke upon him.

I9I3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

279

BY CLYDE N. KEHERY, AGE 15. (GOLD BADGE.)

BY JUNIOR SCRUTON, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE. ■

'AROUND THE CURVE."

THE AWAKENING YEAR— 1913

BY LUCILE BENTON BEAUCHAMP (AGE 17)

(Gold Badge)
O New-year, tell me what you bring?

Now, as we meet upon the verge
Of that unfathomable Vast

Whence you emerge —

0 New-year, tell me what you bring?

1 see a thousand argosies,

And ships upon the unknown seas.

I see the darkness of the past

Recede before the light at last,

When purer aims and nobler life

Have drowned the din of party strife.

And, 'midst the city's ceaseless toil,

I see, high o'er its vain turmoil,

The towering piles the toilers raise —

Objects of wonder and of praise.

I see the conquerors of the air

Coming and going everywhere ;

And steel rails circling all the world ;

And swords all sheathed, and war flags furled,

While mankind, in a common good,

Seeks universal brotherhood.

O New-year, is this what you bring?

"AROUND THE CURVE. BY MARY S. ESSELSTYN, AGE 13.

(SILVER BADGE.)

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY ARCHIE DAWSON (AGE 13)

(Silver Badge)
Four hundred and eighty-four years ago, in a small
town in Germany, there was being unfolded one of the
greatest events in the world's history. For in that

town, in 1428, Coster was perfecting the printing-press.
Little did he think, when he printed his first book, that
he was revolutionizing the world. For the force of that
little machine has grown into a power that sways na-
tions— the power of the modern "press."

Gutenberg and Coster well deserve places on the roll
of fame. And even more than Morse or Fulton, or any
other inventors do, they deserve it. For it was only by
the invention of the printing-press that other men ob-
tained the know-
ledge that enabled
them to become
inventors.

That wonderful
machine has grown
into a giant greater
than the mightiest
army, and second
to nothing in the
world. And the
editor of a daily
paper exerts more
influence than

many kings. For
he holds the power
of changing peo-
ple's opinions, a
power that not
even royal em-
perors possess.

And we who are
using the benefits
of this invention
should remember
with gratitude

those wonderful
names that will

p»*

S.1 ~

THROUGH THE WINDOW. BY J. HARRY

MC NEANEY, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)

last as long as the

world exists — the names of Gutenberg and Coster.

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY HEDWIG ZORB (AGE 13)

A few years ago, I was living with my parents in a pri-
vate house located on a rather lonely spot of Brooklyn.
Shortly after we got there, we heard that several houses
had been robbed in our vicinity, but we did not pay
much attention to it except to bar our doors carefully.
A few nights later, my father was out of town on busi-
ness, and my mother, my brother, and I were left alone
in the house. About midnight, we heard a crash and
then footsteps outside. We jumped to the window, and
saw a man, revolver in hand, running along the street.

280

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Jan.,

The next morning, we found that the crash, which
had evidently alarmed the burglar and made him flee,
was caused by a few heavy boards which had been
placed against a small door in the rear of the building,
and had fallen down when the burglar opened it to
enter the house. I then thought that placing boards
against a door was the greatest invention — for keeping
burglars out of a house.

AROUND THE CURVE. BY MARY C. MCVOV, AGE II.

(SILVER BADGE.)

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY DORIS F. HALMAN (AGE 1 6)

{Honor Member)

All the air is just as frost-filled, and the sky is just as
gray,

And the snow-drifts coldly glitter, as they did o' yester-
day;

But there 's something that is calling, something that I
can't quite hear,

Something saying, windward straying, "It 's a new —
another — year !"

Underneath the crystal glimmer and the white flame of
the snow,

Baby things are born and stirring, in the brown depths
far below ;

And the something, all assuring unseen life to us so
dear,

Sets us knowing, while it 's snowing, it 's a new — an-
other— year.

When the world moves slowly onward, and naught

happens day by day,
Somewhere, over land and water, there 's a blessing on

its way,
Just as when, in coldest weather, long before the spring

is here,
Voices, swelling, take to telling, "It 's a new — another —

vpar !"

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY NELLIE ADAMS (AGE 14)

On the night just before January the first,
We review all our sins of the past that are worst ;
And with heart overfull of remorse and of grief,
We declare our intention to turn a new leaf;
So we wait, with a penitent sigh and a tear,
The awakening year.

We promise to drop our bad habits and sins —
Our many resolves are as bright as new pins
(How much better we are than the year gone before,
Is a question that often has puzzled us sore) ;
Still, we think we '11 be good, so we wait, without fear,
The awakening year.

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY HELEN E. WALKER (AGE 1 5)

The telephone, which was invented by Alexander Bell,
seems to me, for many reasons, to be the greatest in-
vention.

First of all, that any one should be able to speak to
and hear another person, though the person may be
miles away, as well as though he were in the same room,
seems to me to be marvelous.

In case of sickness or sudden death, where the utmost
haste is necessary, the telephone is a great deal quicker
than the telegraph.

Then, in business, matters can be explained more
quickly and more satisfactorily by telephone than in any
other manner. Engagements can be made, or broken,
at the last moment, very often saving a long and tedious
journey by cars, especially when the long-distance tele-
phone is used, and in many ways this great invention is
a most valuable aid to business of every kind.

Last of all, so much time is saved in homes by the
use of the telephone, and it makes one's more distant
friends seem so near, that in every way I think that the
telephone is the greatest invention.

,*»

.--,

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY MARY KATHRYN FAGAN (AGE 1 4)

(Gold Badge)
It seems to me that the wireless telegraph is the great-
est invention of the present century. It consists in the
sending and receiving of messages without the use of
wires — hence the name "wireless."

In the Russo-Japanese War, it was used to direct field
and naval operations. All United States war-ships are
equipped with

these outfits. The
Germans use them
in army manceu-
vers.

In communica-
ting with ships at
sea, it often saves
many lives, as
was shown in the
great Titanic dis-
aster, a few months
ago.

Recently, a phy-
sician in charge
of a ship became
suddenly and vi-
olently ill on one
of his voyages.
The passengers
were inexperi-

enced, and could

do little for him, but the wireless operator signaled to
another steamer, gave the sick man's symptoms, and re-
ceived medical directions from their surgeon which en-
abled him to administer the right medicine ; and the
doctor was soon out of danger.

One of the unique features of this wonderful inven-
tion is its cheapness, as but small apparatus is required.
So simple is it, that many school-boys have outfits that
send and receive messages over great distances.

THROUGH THE WINDOW. BY HARRY R.

TILL, AGE 16. (HONOR MEMBER.)

I9I3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

281

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY MARGARET E. BEAKES (AGE 1 7)

(Honor Member)
The wonder of an invention is measured by its strange-
ness, but its greatness is measured by its usefulness.

There are few cities to-day in which dynamos are not
running. What better proof of their greatness can be

A HEADING FOR JANUARY. BY BEATRICE B. BROWN, AGE I3.

(SILVER BADGE.)

asked than the fact that, if they ceased running, it
would inconvenience practically all of the inhabitants of
those cities? For the dynamos, which few of these
people have seen and fewer understand, furnish the
current which lights the cities, runs its trolleys, the
machinery of its factories, its telephones, its elevators,
and a multitude of less important things.

We consider any one of these things wonderful : the
turning of a switch flooding city streets or houses with
light ; trolleys carrying people to and fro without animal
strength ; great machines saving the labor of hundreds
of men ; voices carried over a wire and bringing parts
of a business, stores and customers, friends, cities, into
close contact ; elevators rising from floor to floor.
Surely the dynamo, which makes possible all of these
things, and still others, is the greatest of inventions.

THE AWAKENING OF THE NEW-YEAR

BY MARY E. WELLS (.AGE 1 3)

(Silver Badge)
The moon, high over the eastern hill,

Shone, an orb of golden light ;
The sad wind moaned in the tree-tops tall,

On this starlit New- Year's night.

The tall trees nodded their gaunt, gray heads,

On the hillside white and drear ;
High over the moonlit, dream-wrapped town,

And sang a song to the dying year.

"On this drear hillside, for many a year,
We 've kept our vigil aright ;
And for many a year we 've heard the chimes
Of the bells on New-Year's night."

The hillside shone in the starlight sheen,
The shadows swayed on the snow,

And, borne on the sighing, sobbing breeze,
Came a chime from far below.

"Now welcome, New-year," the trees sighed low ;

"Be kind to us, unknown year."
"The New-year is come," the chimes rang out,

And the old trees murmured, "Here."
Vol. XL. -36.

THE NEW-YEAR

BY ELEANOR E. CARROLL (AGE 15)

Church bells ring and people shout,

Waiting for him to appear. ■

What is all this noise about? —

The New-year.

The New-year, a tiny lad,

Is about to come on earth.
Therefore every one is glad
At his birth.

Ne'er have kings of royal blood

Welcomed been as this wee thing
Coming in as bursts a bud
In the spring.

Former sins aside are laid ;

Good-will reigns o'er Christian men.
All the dear old world is made
New again !

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY MURIEL W. AVERY (AGE 17)

(Honor Member)
Another year has passed ; another mile-stone in the
progress of humanity ; and, as we pause in the work of
the busy world, and look around us, we behold the
marvelous things that through the centuries have been

THROUGH THE WINDOW. BY DOROTHY HUGHES, AGE 14.

(GOLD BADGE.)

conceived in the mind of man, and wrought by his hand.
But, accustomed to them, how little thought we give to
their constant service. How many of us, when we pick
up our own St. Nicholas, think of the wonderful ma-
chine that transforms miles of spotless paper into thou-
sands of magazines, exactly alike, containing, on their
printed pages, thoughts educational, elevating, and
amusing? Yet it is safe to call the modern printing-
press man's greatest achievement.

Over four hundred and fifty years ago, John Guten-
berg, a German, printed the first book, the Bible, written
in the Latin tongue, and bound in two huge volumes.
Gradually, year by year, with Gutenberg's idea of using
movable type as a basis, the press has been developed,
until to-day it nears perfection.

282

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Jan.,

<#fe

r^TZ^

/f Wr Jill

THROUGH THE WINDOW. BY E. L.

WATHEN, AGE 17. (GOLD BADGE.)

But the importance of the printing-press does not
depend more on the intricacy of the machinery than on

its effect upon the
world. It has been
a recognized pow-
er in the spreading
of Christianity, for,
through its me-
dium, the gospel
of love and of
truth has been
brought into the
homes of every
land. It has raised
man from the
depths of super-
stition and ig-
norance to the
highest level of
education and re-
finement; it has
strengthened his
intellectual abil-
ity ; it has taught
him to think
higher thoughts,
do nobler deeds,

and stands now ever at his command : his servant, his

teacher, his greatest invention.

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY HELEN HUNT ANDREW (AGE 14)

{Silver Badge)
Swing bells! White snow,

Ring bells ! Light snow,

Greet the child New-year. Fall in softest flakes
Bells of time, Upon the ground

Sweetly chime ! Without a sound,

Midnight draweth near. When the little year awakes.

Bright stars, Swing bells ! '

White stars, Ring bells !

Shed your radiant light! Chime out sweet and clear!

Stars above, Silver bells,

Stars of love, In heavenly swells

Guard him all the night ! Greet the glad New-year !

THE AWAKENING OF THE YEAR

BY ELEANOR JOHNSON (AGE 14)

{Honor Member)
The snow lies on the ground,
The world is stilled.
Where summer roses budded, bloomed, and died,
Now winter fairies in the snowflakes hide.
Where robins trilled,
There echoes ne'er a sound.

The summer sky of blue
Is silver now ;
Where autumn turned the leaves to red and gold,
Now all the trees are lifeless, stark, and cold ;
But soon each bough,
In spring will bloom anew.

The year awakens, dear,
For in the air,
We breathe the sweetness of forgotten springs ;
We hear in memory songs the robin sings ;
Oh, life is fair, —
Awakening the year !

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

Ambrose Duggar
Ruth G. Merritt
Mary Daboll
Harold B. Slingerland
Edgar Gibbs
Marion E. Thorpe
Eleanor S. Cooper
Helen Walker
Ruth Stromme
Mary J. Le Clair
Watson Davis
Margaret Finck
Janet Koch
Theodora R. Eldredge
Henry Greenbaum
Charles Bayly, Jr.
Ruth E. Flinn
Jacques Souhami
Mary S. Rupert
Winifred Stoner,*Jr.
Rebecca H. Wilder
Muriel Irving
Susan Lazarus
Gustav Diechmann
Elsie Terhune
Frances D. Etheridge
Elmer H. Van Fleet
Doris Rowell
Leonore Lemmler
Elizabeth Virginia

Kelly
Mildred Worth
Thyrza Weston
Katherine H. De

Wolf
Vida Cowin
Mary Nash
Lois W. Kellogg
Marian B. Caufield
Fredrika W. Hertel
Mary L. Lesser
Valeria M. Gregg
Marguerite Adams
Edward A.

Walarwitsky
Helen G. Rankin

lone Cocke
Joseph I. Cohen
Eliza A. Peterson
Elinor P. Childs
Elizabeth Kales
Knowlton Mixer, Jr.
Margaret E. Wade
Bradford Adams
Carl Yagustow
Sara B. Pope
Helen B. Walker
Rupert Emerson
Halah Slade
Lois M. Weill
Helen Bull
Elspeth MacLaren
Eleanor Lourey
Katharine Peek

VERSE, 1

Bruce T. Simonds
Eleanor M. Sickels
Marian Thanhouser
Elsie L. Richter
Grace N. Sherburne
Katherine E. Albert
Miriam Carpenter
Hazel K. Sawyer
Mabel Mason
Renee Geoffrion
Loretto Chappell
Mildred Willard
Betty Humphreys
Rachel L. Field
Elsie E. Glenn
Mary C. Williams
Alice Trimble
Janet Hepburn
Mary E. Hale
Josephine N. Felts
Margaret Duggar
Dorothy L. Morton
Frances C. Duggar
Helen Beeman
Helen M. Campion
Marian R. Priestley
Myrtle Doppmann

"$Ly& <$l *&JL~>~"

THROUGH THE WINDOW. BY FREDERICK

W. AGNEW, AGE "14. (SILVER BADGE.)

Elizabeth Finley
Betram Gumpert
Nell Upshaw
Ethel M. Feuerlicht
Catalina Ferrer
Edith M. Levy
Kathryn A. Trufant

PROSE, 2

Meyer Fineberg
Naomi Lauchheimer
Henry W. Hardy
Henry Williams

Katharine W. Ball
Elizabeth Pratt
Florence E. Foggett
Margaret C. Bland
Emily S. Stafford
Helen Cameron
Lucy Mackay
Emmy Hofmann
Dorothy C. Snyder
Elsie Lustig
Elsie A. M. Grande
Angela Porter
Mary J. Smith
Mary S. Benson

VERSE, 2

Hazel M. Chapman
Dorothy M. Cook
Elizabeth Hale
Buchanan Bernardin
Grace C. Freese
Nellie Gutzke
Louise H amnion
Harriet A. Fera
Virginia Read
Marion Jones
Annie H. Potter
John Watson
Katherine Daves
Hannah Ratisher
Josephine Smith
Alma A. Stevens
Louise Ditiemore
Gwynne A. Abbott
Clarinda Buck
Margaret M. Caskey

DRAWINGS, 1

Lily E. Nadan
Kathleen Murphy
C. C. Campbell
Agnes I. Prizer
Catharine M. Clarke
Ruth S. Thorp
Isabella B. Howland
Marjorie B. Kendall
Juliet M. Bartlett
Robert Riggs
Lucie C. Holt
Marjorie MacMonnies
Genevieve Farmer
Grace Brown
Richard S. Cutler
Walter K. Frame
Mildred Davenport
Marjorie Flack
Ruth Genzberger
Ethel W. Kidder
Welthea B. Thoday
Edward Shenton

DRAWINGS, 2

Elsie Stybr
Susie Scheuer
Livingston McEwan
Robert Osborn
Mary H. Howes
Robert C. Mare
Edith M. Howes
Edith Derry
Burnie Steward
James Sinclair
Lois C. Myers
Ellen Thomas
Dorothy L. Todd
Martha P. Lincoln
Marie L. Muriedas
Margaret Ager
Margaret Thomas
Vera M. Monteagle
Elizabeth E. Joy-
Edward E. Verdier
Helena E. Perin
Logan Simpson
S. Dorothy Bell
Frederick A. Brooks
Harry G. Haufler
Harry R.McLenegan
Esther Hill
Jennie E. Everden
Dorothy Walter
Ruby Boardman
Copeland Hovey
Anne Hewlett
Jean Dorchester
Florence W. Billstein
Edna M. Guck
Jessie Wilson
Margaret F. Knight
Louis E. Tilden
Isabel Pearce
Rose Cushman

I9I3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

283

Genevieve K. Hamlin
Albin Y. Thorp _
Howard H. Jamison
Amy G. Robinson
Cecile Baer
Dorothy Schwarz
Margaret V. Metcalfe
Margaret M. Horton
John Argens
Marie Schmadeke
Catharine H. Grant
Jeanne Dartiguenane
Maybelle Whiting

PHOTOGRAPHS, i

Doris Grimble
Laurence C. Andrews

Marion L. Rhodes
Salvador Ros
Stephen R. Johnson
Phoebe S. Lambe
Alice Moore
Emilia C. Ros
Flora Ros
Catherine Hedrick
Esther R. Harrington
Raimund W. Adams
Clarice Lewis
Mary Fisher
George H. Lewis
Harriette Harrison
Margaret Sherman
Kenneth D. Smith
Laurencia Vradenburg
Fanny Juda

^NIC

Nancy Bartlett
Marjorie Robarts
Lucile C. Wolf
Rose B. Jacobs
Robin Hood
D. M. Beach
Violet Seligman
Charlotte McNarg
Susan B. Nevin
Dorothy Coate
Edwin P. Pond
Elizabeth M. Duffield
Esther T. Derby
Charlotte M. Clark
Margaret M. Benney
Manley Davis
Marjorie Corbett
Addie E. Smith
Charles M. Smith, Jr.
Jane Wells Bliss
Martha Cutler
John A. Townley
Hartwell Wade
Margery Woods
Henry M. Justi, Jr.
Richard Bartlett
Horton Hansaker
Helen Simpson
Adelyn Johnston
Alexander Scott

PHOTOGRAPHS, 2

Helen C. Wouters
Roger Preston
Frances Whittlesey
Rachel Talbot

PUZZLES, 1

Wyllys P. Ames
Katherine Browne
Duncan Scarborough
Edith P. Stickney
Marjorie K. Gibbons
Alfred Curjel
Jessie I. Derickson
Eleanor K. Newell
Elsa S. Ebeling
Elizabeth M. Brand
Dorothy Wilcox
E. Clarence Miller Jr.
Jean F. Benswanger
Betty Rice
Loyala B. Lee
Elisabeth Turner
Ben Hulley
Caroline F. Ware
Edith Lucie Weart
Charlotte Otto
Ethel J. Earle
Margaret A.
Billingham
Hannah M. Ruley
Mary Flaherty
Beatrice Maule
Margaret Miles
Fanny Ruley
Catherine C. Lowe
Walter Weiskopf

PUZZLES, 2

Mary S. Rice
James Stanisewsky
Hobart Goewey
Abr. Shapiro
Louisa G. Wells
Carl Fichandler
Elizabeth S. Moore
Hilda V. Libby
Doris A. Libby
Robert G. Hooker, Jr. Donald Simpson
Gladys E. Livermore Jack Falenwider

LCAOVC

HEADING FOR JANUARY. BY FRANCES

'. KOEWING, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.)

Richard L. Cooch
Irwin Eppstein
Frances Vandburg
Carlton F. Bogart
Dorothy Coykendall
Mary McNally
Elizabeth Grifriss
Alice A. Hoge
Gymaina Hudson
Elsie Nichols
Elizabeth N. Hand
Mary D. Huson
Marion Phillips
Joseph J. Pugh

Elisabeth Elting
Marian Haynes
Esther Wessinger
Samuel Lustig
John Q. Palmer
Mabel Olsen
Harriet M. Wales
Matthew Hilton
Frank L. Mason
Jennie Westcott
Rufus C. Price
Henry G. Payne
Sarah J. Parker
Elizabeth Homan

THROUGH THE WINDOW. BY BEATRICE

B. SAWYER, AGE 16.

ROLL OF THE CARELESS

A list of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and
could not be properly entered for the competition.

NO AGE. Katherine Palmer, Elizabeth Macdonald, Jean Patter-
son, Ethel Polhemus, Emil Thiemann, Helen F. Smith, Elverton
Morrison, Lillia Lyman.

LATE. Ruth E. Wing, Mabel Wing, Louise Graham, Alex Lipin-
sky, Minnie Margolius, Lois Newton, Anna R. Payne, Lloyd W.
Dunkelspiel, Sarah M. Bradley, Mary Smith, Mary Colton, Elizabeth
Lee Dodge, Fred Sloan.

INSUFFICIENT ADDRESS. Freida Silberman, Ruth White,
Agnes Smith, Olyve Graef, William Schustersohn.

NOT INDORSED. Paul McDonald, Mildred Oppenheimer, Ed-
ward C. Heymann, Ruth Feedman, Gertrude Stevens, Mac Clark,
Katharine Chamberlain, Clinton B. Seeley, Claire A. Hepner, A. W.
Lienaw, Helen Kimbrough, Frank P. Sheehan, Ruth Tyler, Constance
E. Fahys.

WRITTEN ON BOTH- SIDES OF PAPER. Dollie Criss, Paul
C. Rogers.

IN PENCIL. Alexander Laing.

TOOjLONG. Eleanor A. Porter.

PRIZE COMPETITION No. 159

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 to gold-badge winners who shall, from
time to time, again win first place.

Competition No. 159 will close January 10 (for foreign
members January 15). Prize announcements will be
made and the selected contributions published in St.
Nicholas for May.

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, " Maytime," or "A Song of Spring."

PrOse. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, " A Family Tradition."

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "Along the River."

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, " My Best Friend," or a Heading for May.

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.

Union Square, New York.

WHAT

JfeHJCHT

BY IDA KENNISTON

WITH PICTURES BY FANNY Y. CORY

This is the Pack
That Santa Claus brought
at Christmas.

This is the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas

These are the Reindeer

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK

285

This is the House
Where the Reindeer

stopped
That drew the Sleigh
That carried the Pack
That Santa Claus

brought at

Christmas.

This is the Chimney big and wide

That Santa Claus climbed down inside

At the House where the Reindeer stopped

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

This is the Hearth, where, all in a row,

The stockings hung waiting for Santa, you know ;

They hung by the Chimney big and wide

That Santa Claus climbed down inside

At the House where the Reindeer stopped

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

This is the Stocking long and fine

That the little girl hung at the end of the line

There by the Hearth, where, all in a row,

The stockings hung waiting for Santa, you know ;

They hung by the Chimney big and wide

That Santa Claus climbed down inside

At the House where the Reindeer stopped

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

286

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK

This is the Doll with the pretty blue eyes

That Santa Claus brought for a sweet surprise

And put in the Stocking long and fine

That the little girl hung at the end of the line

There by the Hearth, where, all in a row,

The stockings hung waiting for Santa, you know ;

They hung by the Chimney big and wide

That Santa Claus climbed down inside

At the House where the Reindeer stopped

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

And this is the Girlie dimpled and gay

Who was made so happy on Christmas Day

When she found the Doll with the pretty blue eyes

That Santa Claus brought for a sweet surprise

And put in the Stocking long and fine

That the little girl hung at the end of the line

There by the Hearth, where, all in a row,

The stockings hung waiting for Santa, you know ;

They hung by the Chimney big and wide

That Santa Claus climbed down inside

At the House where the Reindeer stopped

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE DECEMBER NUMBER

Numerical Enigma. "To travel hopefully is a better thing than to
arrive."
Geographical Zigzag. South Carolina. Cross-words: i. Seattle.

2. Mombasa. 3. Ecuador. 4. Whitney. 5. Lanchau. 6. Morocco.
7. Messina. 8. Algiers. 9. Formosa. 10. Iceland, n. Arizona. 12.
Ontario. 13. Atlanta.

Dial Puzzle. One line is drawn from the edge of the dial between
ten and eleven to the opposite edge between two and three ; the second
line from between eight and nine to between four and five.

Illustrated Novel Acrostic. Scrooge, Tiny Tim, in Dickens's
" Christmas Carol. " Cross-words: 1. Asters. 2. Icicle. 3. Arnica.
4. Coyote. 5. Bottle. 6. Ogives. 7. Temple.

Pyramid of Squares and Diamonds. I. 1. Assess. 2. Scenic.

3. Setter. 4. Entire. 5. Sierra. 6. Scream. II. 1. N. 2. Yes. 3.
Never. 4. See. 5. R. 1. R. 2. Mad. 3. Rapid. 4. Die. 5. D.
III. 1. Amen. 2. Mole. 3. Ella. 4. Near. 1. Rear. 2. Ezra. 3.

Army. 4. Rays. 1. Drop. 2. Rage. 3. Ogle. 4. Peer. IV. 1
Japan. 2. Alibi. 3. Pivot. 4. Above. 5. Niter. 1. Refer. 2.
Erode. 3. Focus. 4. Educe. 5. Reset. 1. Swamp. 2. Water.
3. Atone. 4. Mends. 5. Press. 1. Rebus. 2. Event. 3. Belie. 4
Unite. 5. Steep.

Hidden Birds. Bob-white. Cross-words: 1. Buzzard. 2. Cow
bird. 3. Bullbat. 4. Swallow. 5. Hoatzin. 6. Pintail. 7. Tan
ager. 8. Redpoll.

Pinwheel Puzzle. I. 1. Spend. 2. Polar. 3. Elsie. 4. Nails. 5
Dress. II. 1. Sober. 2. Saved. 3. Uhlan. 4. Usual. 5. Spend. 1. S
2. Up. 3. Use. 4. Shun. 5. Salad. 6. Oval. 7. Ben. 8. Ed. 9. R

III. 1. D. 2. Ra. 3. Eve. 4. Sale. 5- Sibyl. 6. Lore. 7. Win
8. Ed. 9. S. 1. Dress. 2. Avail. 3. Elbow. 4. Eyrie. 5. Lends

IV. 1. C. 2. La. 3. Art. 4. Serf. 5. Sails. 6. Stop. 7. Ere. 8
An. 9. D. 1. Class. 2. Areas. 3. Trite. 4. Flora. 5. Spend

V. 1. Dress. 2. Cairn. 3. Savor. 4. Habit. 5. Tryst. 1. T. 2
Hr. 3. Say. 4. Cabs. 5. Davit. 6. Riot. 7. Err. 8. Sn. 9. S.

Answers to all the Puzzles in the October Number were received before October 10 from Harold Kirby, Jr. — Claire Hepner — " Mid-
wood" — Theodore H. Ames.

Answers to Puzzles in the October Number were received before October 10 from Gavin Watson, 10 — A. W. Lienaw, 10 — Helen M.
O'Brien, 10 — Harmon B., James O., and Glen T Vedder, 10 — Alfred Hand, 3d, 10 — Thankful Bickmore, 10 — " Queenscourt," 10 — Judith Ames
Marsland, 10 — " Dixie Slope," 10 — William Fickinger, 10 — Lothrop Bartlett, 9 — Catherine Gordon Ames, 9 — Maron E. Thompson, 9 — Julius F.
Muller, 9— E. T., 9 — Katharine Reiser, 8 — Madeleine Marshall, 7— Harry R. Swanson, 7— Virginia Park, 6— Margaret B. Silver, 6 — Guy R.
Turner, 6 — Dorris Davidson and Dorothy Dorsett, 5 — George James Smith, 5 — Beatrice Stahl, 4— Katharine Herrick, 3 — Jack Fuller, 3 — Fran-
ces Eaton, 3 — Henry G. Cartwright, Jr., 3 — Helen La Fetra, 2 — Ethel Kent, 2 — Dorothy Hackney, 2.

Answers to one Puzzle were received from J. T— A. W— R. P, E.— B. L. B.— R. M. R — M. K. — B. K— A. S.— C. M. B.— V. M.T.— L. D.

OBLIQUE RECTANGLE

(Stiver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)

In solving follow the above diagram, though the puzzle
has fifty cross-words.

Cross-words : 1. In article. 2. Yellowish-brown. 3.
A song of joy. 4. A peer. 5. A South American mam-
mal. 6. An ant. 7. A lofty nest. 8. A diadem. 9. Up-
right. 10. An oak fruit, n. A rude path. 12. Nothing.
13. Defamatory writing. 14. One affected by leprosy.
15. A line above or below the musical staff. 16. Kingly.
17. Mad. 18. The largest gland. 19. To hinder. 20.
Carousal. 21. A riddle. 22. Pertaining to the moon.
23. A glossy fabric. 24. A large stream. 25. At no
time. 26. Insurgent. 2T. Exudes from trees. 28.
Black and blue. 29. Potassium nitrate. 30. To delay.
31. Memorial. 32. A gun. 33. To ascend. 34. A cinder.
35. To infatuate. 36. Pertaining to Rome. 37. A
hoofed tropical mammal. 38. An alcove. 39. A geo-
metrical figure. 40. To lay in surrounding matter. 41.
To hem in. 42. The evil spirit. 43. Cowardly. 44.
Boundary. 45. A finger. 46. A large beast of prey. 47.
Lukewarm. 48. Severity. 49. To put on. 50. In
article. anthony fabbri (age 15).

ANAGBAMMATIC ACROSTIC

Each one of the following anagrams spells the name of
a poet. The initial letters of these poets' surnames
spell the surname of another poet.

1. Sammy bought bail to Canaan.

2. Joe Galen, win !

3. Grew forty hewn hollow lands.

4. Nanny L. does fret.

5. N. Ford scans great goose.

6. Hen, whom Jenny ran.

eleanor hussey (age 16), League Member.

NOVEL, ZIGZAG

Cross-words : 1. A small, hawk. 2. To flow in a
small stream. 3. Very foolish. 4. An ancient country.
5. A relative. 6. Eccentric. 7. Base. 8. Burdensome.
9. Brave. 10. A defect, n. Pride resulting from success.
The zigzag of stars spells a name, and 1 to 10 an
object, loved by German children.

dorothy s. mann, Honor Member.

287

288

THE RIDDLE-BOX

ILLUSTRATED NUMERICAL ENIGMA

In this puzzle the key-words are pictured. The answer,
containing twenty-four letters, is the name of a famous
decree, of special interest this month.

FRACTIONAL CITIES

Take V2 of one of the principal seaports of China, ¥1 of
the most important commercial city of Ireland, % of an
important city of China on the Pei-ho, 2h of the largest
city of the United States, Vz of the principal seaport of
England, and make a large city of Europe, founded by
an emperor who named it after himself.

Jessica b. noble (age 12), League Member.

DIAGONAL

All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When written one below another, the down-
ward diagonal, from left to right, will spell the name
of an American statesman.

Cross-words : i. Prudent. 2. A modern invention.
3. Sincere. 4. To deform. 5. A Jewish festival. 6. To
perplex. 7. Necks of lands. 8. A brilliant red. 9. A
city of Texas.

mary e. lansdale (age 13), League Member.

WORD-SQUARE

1. A peer. 2. A body of water. 3. Sometimes worn by
men. 4. Extensive. 5. Finished.

Katharine K. spencer (age n), League Member.

CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)

*****
I. * * * * *

*****

II. * * * * *

*****
*****
*****

* * * *

*****

* * * . * *

IV. * * * * *

*****

V. * * * * *
*****

*****

VI. * * * * *

*****

*****
*****

*****

VII. ***** VIII. *****

* * * *

*****

*****
IX. *****

*****

I. 1. A quantity of similar things. 2. To worship. 3.
The emblem of a clan, among the North American In-
dians. 4. A town in Cremona, Italy. 5. Relating to the
blood.

II. 1. Rough. 2. Flavor. 3. Wanders. 4. A small
fish. 5. Quick.

III. 1. Smallest. 2. A bird. 3. To assent. 4. Frozen
rain. 5. In the head.

IV. 1. A covered entrance-way. 2. A music drama.

3. Advert. 4. To crawl. 5. Stringed instruments.

V. 1. Used in making bread. 2. A planet. 3. Fervor.

4. A gem. 5. Cast.

VI. 1. An organ of the body. 2. A mistake. 3. To
get up. 4. The gift of June. 5. A curl of hair.

VII. 1. Spruce. 2. A covetous person. 3. Apart. 4.
An angle in a fortification. 5. Direction.

VIII. 1. A kind of grain. 2. To raise. 3. Part of a
roof. 4. To turn away. 5. Irritable.

IX. 1. Projecting arms on a ship, used for hoisting.

2. Past. 3. A Russian drink. 4. One who inks. 5
Rends. whitney Hastings (age 15).

"FAMOUS ROMAN" 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 a Roman patriot.

Cross-words: i. A Roman soldier. 2. A Roman
orator. 3. The birthplace of a Latin poet. 4. The first
name of a Roman portrayed by Shakspere. 5. A Roman
matron. 6. The first Roman emperor born out of Italy.
7. A Roman triumvir. 8. A Roman poet. 9. A Roman
naval battle. 10. The middle name of an early Roman
hero. 11. A Roman commander in the Punic Wars.
Isidore helfand (age 14), Honor Member.

DOUBLE DIAGONAL

All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When written one below another, the diagonal
beginning with the upper left-hand letter will spell the
name of an ancient soldier and statesman, and the
diagonal beginning with the upper right-hand letter, the
name of one of his bitterest enemies.

Cross-words : i. A kind of sauce. 2. A great gun.

3. Proper. 4. Become void. 5. An underground room.
6. One who screams.

CONSTANCE W. MCLAUGHLIN (age 15),

League Member.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA

{Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
I am composed of sixty-seven letters, and form a quota-
tion from Emerson.

My 60-18-13-7-10-20-53-49 is a sticky fluid. My
23-1-21-67-59-46-52 is laboring. My 4-2-28-27-36-56
is a musical instrument. My 1 7-14-8-58-26-40 is a
soft, downy substance. My 1 2-66-48-1 1-44-63-47 is
to sparkle. My 22-25-65-34-38-39-29-41 is growling.
My 42-15-45-6-3-57 is thorny. My 64-43-30-19-16 is
comical. My 5-9-32-50-54-61 is to return to life. My
35-37-55-62 is moved rapidly. My 24-31-33-51 is
perceived. Beatrice wineland (age 14).

THE DE V1NNE PRESS, NEW YORK.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Weather Wisdom

To take the edge off
the weather and prevent
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protective

Pears' Soap

possesses those special emollient properties that .act like balm,
upon the surface of the skin, and while making it soft and
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V. to withstand the weather vagaries of our changeable climate.

Pears is the Soap for all Weather and all People.
Matchless for the Complexion.

The Great English
Complexion Soap

"Ail rights secured"

OF ALL SCEMTED SOAPS PEARS' OTTO OF ROSE IS THE BEST

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

If there be any Value
in Quality

If there be any Value
in Prestige

If there be any Value
in Good Company

Consider

The unusual excellence
in literature and art, in
engraving, typography,
printing, and paper
continually exhibited in

THE
CENTURY
MAGAZINE

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

r' '

/ Also strength, beauty and
flint-hard runners that stay
sharp longest. Skates to rely on — and to win on.

THE BEST ICE AND ROLLER

Special models for all skating. Winslow's Hockey Skates are official
and cannot be surpassed in design or make-up. Used by experts
all over the world. Write for new catalogue No. 6, con
taining rules of leading Hockey Associations.

THE SAMUEL WINSLOW SKATE MFG. CO,

Factory and Main Offices: Worcester, Mass., U. S. A

Sales Rooms: New York, 84 Chambers St. Pacific Coast

Sales Agency : Phil. B. Bekeart Co., San Francisco.

Stocks to be found at LONDON, 8 Long Lane, E. 0.; PARIS,
64 Avenue de la Grande Armee; BERLIN; SYDNEY and
BRISBANE, Australia; DUNEDIN, AUCKLAND and
WELLINGTON, New Zealand.

Makers of the Famous
Winslow's Roller Skates

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE

PANAMA-PACIFIC EXPOSITION

IN San Francisco, California, work is being rap-
idly pushed for the exposition to take place there
in commemoration of the opening of the great
Panama Canal ; while in Washington, D. C, work is
being done on the new two-cent stamp to be issued
for the same purpose. Rumor has it that the new
stamp will be oblong, similar in size to those issued
in 1904 in commemoration of the "Louisiana Pur-
chase." The central design is an engraving repre-
senting' the Locks at Gatun. In the background are
palm-trees and the hills of the isthmus ; in the fore-
ground a steamship is emerging from one lock, while
a second ship is being raised in the other. The
words "U. S. Postage" appear at the top of the
stamp, while beneath are the words, "San Francisco,
1915." In the corners are branches of olive and
palm, typifying peace and the tropics.

A NEW ENGLISH STAMP

THE first postage-stamp was issued by Great
Britain in 1840. It bore the word "Postage,"
and the value, "One Penny," but the name of Great
Britain did not appear. Nearly all of the other great
nations also omitted their names from their first
issue of stamps ; indeed, Brazil has no lettering at all
upon her earliest stamps — nothing
but a series of numerals express-
ing value. In 1843, Switzerland
issued the Cantonal Series ; and
while there is no national name
upon these stamps, the name of
the canton is given. This sugges-
tion was amplified in the first issue
(1847) of the United States, which
shows the letters "U. S." ; and in
the same year, the stamps of Mau-
ritius were issued with the name
of the country printed in full for
the first time. Since then, all of
the great nations, with the excep-
tion of Great Britain, have gradu-
ally adopted this practice. Ger-
many was the last to fall in line.
It is possible that some countries
using the Slavonic alphabet, such
as Russia, Bulgaria, or Montenegro, have not done
this. We are not sure. But of all the nations using
the English alphabet, Great Britain alone has no
national name upon her stamps. Because of this
fact, a new issue of English stamps always brings to
St. Nicholas a number of queries. The stamps
bear no name, and, naturally, many young collectors
do not know where to place them in their albums.

We, therefore, take time by the forelock, and il-
lustrate the new penny stamp of Great Britain.
Upon the coronation of King George V, the first
imperial stamp-collector, the fraternity expected
great things of the coming stamp. Not only were
stamp-collectors doomed to disappointment, but the
general public as well, for the new stamp was by
no means a thing of beauty. Public criticism at
length brought about a modification of the design,
and what is called the second type appeared. The
dissatisfaction was still so great that one of the
English philatelic societies backed its protest by

OLD.

obtaining, through prize competition, what it called
a "perfect" design, which it submitted to the au-
thorities. The government did not accept this, but
engraved an entirely new plate, and one which is
certainly a great improvement upon its predecessor.
A glance at the two pictures on this page will show
how greatly the design is changed. The head on the
new stamp is much larger ; a firmer, clearer, better
portrait. It is in profile, instead of three quarters,
as before. The general appearance of the entire
stamp is lighter and less crowded. The "hungry
lion" has disappeared, the "one penny" is short-
ened, and the numerals dropped so that they rest
on the lower line. "Postage and Revenue" is in a
straight line at the top instead of a curved label.
The heavy, cumbersome wreaths at the side of the
old stamp have been replaced with a light, artistic
border, at the bottom of which are small clusters of
laurel and oak leaves. We believe that this new
stamp will meet with popular approval.

TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS

THE readers of St. Nicholas send in to this de-
partment many queries, and this is as it should
be. We wish to help our readers all we can, and
our knowledge of stamps is at their disposal. The
requirements of publishing so large a magazine as
St. Nicholas are such that the subject-matter for
all pages must be in hand some time before it is
issued. Therefore, if a prompt reply is desired, or if
the query is not one of general interest to our read-
ers, a stamped self-addressed envelop should be in-
closed. Always be sure to give addresses in full ; do
not use initials only. We have before us a query
without address, to which only a general reply can
here be given. "M. L. G., Bradford," asks the value
of a stamp bearing the head of Andrew Jackson, and
issued in the year 1862. It is always difficult to give
the value of any stamp unless the particular speci-
men is before us. So much depends on its condi-
tion. Is it used or unused ? Nicely perforated or
badly centered? If unused, has it gum? If used,
is it lightly or heavily canceled? Only a stamp-
collector can appreciate how important all these
points are to the value of a stamp. St. Nicholas
has a large number of advertisers who are constantly
buying as well as selling stamps. A full and com-
plete description of any stamp for sale would, if
submitted to them, doubtless bring a prompt and
courteous reply. But when writing to them or to us,
always be careful to give your full address.

ANSWERS TO QUERIES

fU TMPERFORATE and part-perforate stamps
TlJ J. usually have a value, and are well worth
saving. It is especially desirable to have such in
pairs and blocks. This applies to current stamps as
well as old issues. The rare stamp of to-day was
once the~ current issue. C|[ By thin and thick
paper is meant the difference in thickness or weight.
It would take more sheets of thin paper than of thick
to weigh a pound. For instance, tissue-paper is very
thin and ordinary blotting-paper very thick. Porous
paper is one which is soft and coarse-grained, not
highly glazed or finished, and which readily absorbs
moisture.

§222S2222SZZ2222Z2^2S2^S22222222SS2Z^22222E222SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS^SSSSSSSSSS^S3!S
28

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY

TWENTIETH CENTURY ALBUM

(NEW) contains spaces for all stamps issued since
January 1, 1901. Prices from $2.25 up — post free.

NEW DIME SETS - Price 10c. per set :
12 Argentine 5 Cyprus 20 India 5 Reunion

15 Canada 10 Greece 20 Japan 15 Russia

139 different dime sets, also Packets, Sets, Albums, and Supplies

in our 84-page Illustrated Price-list. Send for it to-day — free —

and get sample copy of Monthly Stamp Paper.
Finest approval selections at 50% commission. Agentsivanted.

Scott Stamp & Coin Co., 127 Madison Avenue, New York

The New England Stamp Monthly

SERIAL NOW RUNNING

Commemorative Stamps of the World

Illustrated, 12c. per year. Vol. II begins Nov. 20th.
Subscribe now.
New Series approval sheets 50%. Apply now and get first pick.
Stamp Tongs, 35c. a pair.

NEW ENGLAND STAMP CO.

43 Washington Building Boston, Mass.

STAMP ALBUM with 538 genuine stamps, incl. Rhodesia,

50 VARIETIES STAMPS
FROM 50 DIFFERENT COUNTRIES

sent with our 60% approval sheets for 5c.
Palm Stamp Co., 249 No. CarondeletSt., Los Angeles, Cal.

RARC.AINS EACH sET s cents.

lJ.rt.lVVJ.r-Vl I -<l J ln 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.

5FRFNPH COLONIAL STAMPS, 2c. 1000 Differ-
ll\L,nv,ll ent p-oreign Stamps, $1.75. 10 Different
Foreign Coins, 25c. 25 Beautiful Embossed Post-cards, 10c.
Buying list coins, 10c. Sample " Stamp & Coin Collector " free.
A. H. Kraus, 409a Chestnut Street, Milwaukee, Wis.

RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
xQKXfis. with Catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents. If possible send
]j3j*SS&i names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special
(Ml lM] offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
IftJI) llc.;40 Japan. 5c; 100 U. S.,20c; 10 Paraguay, 7c: 17
vSttSS?^ Mexico, 10c; 20 Turkey, 7c; 10 Persia, 7c; 3 Sudan, 5c;
^SHB^ KlChile, 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.

STAMPS' CHEAP! 333 GENUINE FOfc-
,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.

500 dii

ferent % .45

300 "

.20

200 "

.09

20 "

Colombia .07

10 "

Bosnia .05

9 "

Prussia .10

1000 Different gJ^"SSS!R $30 for $1.80

Haiti, 1904 Complete 6 Var. $ .15
Abyssinia, 1895 " 7 .45

Mozambique, '92 ' 9 .50

N. F'ndl'd, 1890& '98" 15 " .30
Nyassa^Giraffes, '01 " 13 .25

Rumania Jubilee, '06 " 11 .55

Gold California %\, each 35c ; $1, each 65c; 25 diff. Foreign
Coins, 25c; Roman (Caesar) silver, 45c U. S. $1 Gold, $2.25.

J. F. Negreen, S East 23d Street, New York City.

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 CityStamp&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 100 VARIETIES FOREIGN, FREE. Postage 2c.

Mention St. Nicholas. Quaker Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio.

STAMPS 108 ALL DIFFERENT.

Transvaal, Servia, Brazil, Peru, Cape G. H., Mex- 1
ico, Natal, Java, etc., and Album, 10c loon 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.

DANDY PACKET STAMPS free for name, address 2 collec-
tors, 2c postage. Send to-day. C.T.K. Stamp Co., Utica, N. Y.

STAMPS 105 China, Egypt, etc., stamp dictionary and list 3000 ija
bargains 2c Agts., 5o%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. Sal

! ! FREE TO BEGINNERS ! !

An old stamp of Peru, worth 30c. to any one sending for our
splendid approval selections at 50% discount.

New Chile lc, 2c, 5c, loc, 15c 5c.

New Mexico lc, 2c, 5c, 10c, 20c 6c.

1911 Honduras Large picture stamps lc, 2c, 5c, 6c, loc. ...10c.
International Stamp Co., 1 Ann Street, New York

E VARIETIES PERU FREE.

** With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N.Y.

CT A TV/IPQ Packet of 200, Album, Hinges, and List, all
•J » .TVlVirO. for 8c 1000 mixed stamps, 15c 50% to agents.
Pavn Stamp Co., 138 No. Wellington Si'.. Los Angeles, Cal.

Austria Jubilee Set, Catalog, 38c A fine set, rprC

1 heller to 2 kr., 15 values. rixdEj

Packet of all different foreign stamps. These stamps |7D E* C"

from all parts of world r IvEjEj

Packet of 50 all different U. S. stamps, including pnrr

revenues, but no post-cards * I\L£j

A leaflet describing and illustrating those United Pnrr

States envelops, 1853-1900 T IxEjd

Y'our Choice of the above premiums if you
send 10c. for 10 weeks' trial subscription to
Mykeel's Stamp Weekly, Kast Building, Boston, Mass.
You cannot afford to collect stamps without a stamp paper and
Mykeel's is the oldest, largest, and best in the world. Full of
news, pictures, and bargains. Special department for beginners.

CLASS PINS

PATRONIZE the advertisers who
use ST. NICHOLAS— their pro-
ducts are worthy of your attention.

r#WuRLlIZERr

FREE
CATALOG

Musical Instruments

282 Pages. 2561 Articles described. 788 Illustra-
tions. 67 Color Plates. Every Musical Instru-
ment. Superb Quality. Lowest Prices. Easy
Payments. Mention instrument you are inter-
ested in. We supply the U.S. Government.

THE RUDOLPH WURLITZER CO.

ISO E. 4th Av., Cincinnati 383 S. Wabash A v., Chicago

St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. ijj.

Time to hand in answers is up January to.

We feel inclined to suggest as a puzzle in
this department " What are we going to
do about that boy Alexander the Little ?"
He takes so keen an interest in the making
of puzzles that we do not altogether like
to discourage him (and sometimes he docs
make pretty good ones, we admit), and
yet we do not wish him to think that he
is the only one able to turn out puzzles
that are attractive. He has brought in a
good one now about New Year's, and we
are going to print it. He tells us that it
is the best ever, but we should think more
of this opinion if it came from some one
else. However, you will find it in this
number. The explanation is Alexander's
own.

There are twenty-two things advertised
in the December St. Nicholas which,
when they are rightly chosen and written
in the squares above, will just fill them,
each filling a line across, and the letters,
now so placed in the squares as to spell
out the two sentences which you can read
from top to bottom of the diagram, will
come in correctly in the advertisement.

In six of them you will see that the first

(See also

Prize-winners announced in March number.

letter is given ; and in each you can tell
the number of letters by counting the
squares straight across the diagram.

To guess the puzzle, you have to find
the list of things and write them in the
same order that they are in the diagram,
numbering them from i to 22 inclusive.
Write each as it appears in the advertise-
ment.

While your answers should be neatly
written, prizes will not be awarded on the
basis of handwriting, or age, or upon other
conditions than those mentioned. Of
course you may get help from other mem-
bers of the family.

The letter to be sent in this month with
your solution of Alexander's puzzle ought
to be easy for you boys and girls. Some
advertisers think you are not responsive
to their announcements, so we are going
to ask you to write a short, clear note
telling just what advertisements attracted
your attention, and why; also how far you
were influenced by them. In case of
equally correct lists, the letter will deter-
mine the rank.

As usual the prizes will be :

One First Prize, $5.00 to the sender of the cor-
rect list and the most convincing letter.

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 list give
name, age, address, and the number of this compe-
tition (133).

3. Submit answers by January 10, 19.13. Do not
use a pencil. 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.
133, St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York.

page 32.)

57'. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Another talk to mothers whose girls and boys have to be made to practice

4 'If I thought I could learn to play
like Aunt Ruth I'd practice."

HEN Aunt Ruth comes, or whoever
your visitor is who plays so beautifully,
watch your children — watch those hungry
eyes, intent upon the marvelous fingers that
unlock a very garden of music with the cold
ivory keys. Are these the same children to
whom you said this morning :

"No, you're not through practicing yet.
Five minutes more and then you may go out
and, play. " ,., \

Yes, they're the same children — in love
with music, as they've always been.
"If I thought I could ever play like that
I'd practice hours a day !" they exclaim.
"You could, if you'd practice hard," you
say, and they resolve to practice hard.
Perhaps they do for a day or two.
But the effect wears off — the visits of the
wonderful player are infrequent. So many
other things happen in between. Practice be-
comes labor again. The children lose sight
of the end to be obtained.

But, suppose this gifted visitor lived right
in your home and played for your boys and
girls every day.
"She doesn't," you say.

No, but her counterpart, as far as music
is concerned, riiay — and should.

Yes, we mean the Pianola. Even if it were
Carreno, or Fannie Bloomfield, Zeisler or
Paderewski himself, who came to your home,
you would have at least the equal of them
all, in your own Pianola — not merely in
accuracy of touch, but in technique, in tone, in
intelligent phrasing and expression and color.

And you'll have this world of beautiful
music every day — there will be no op-
portunity for your boys and girls to lose
interest.

Practice ? They will practice as they never
would have practiced without the Pianola
to keep the end to be attained constantly be-
fore them. You need the Pianola-Piano.

Take your children with you to hear the Pianola-
Piano. But, be sure it is the genuine PIANOLA
Player-piano that you hear — not just any player-
piano. You will recognize the difference when you
have been shown such important features as the
Metrostyle and Themodist — which even the highest
priced among other instruments cannot offer you, yet
which are part of every Pianola-Piano — even the
least expensive at $550.

We suggest that you read ''The Pianolisf by
Gustave Kobbe — on sale at all book stores — or if
you will write us we will send it with our compli-
ments. Address Department "D"

THE AEOLIAN COMPANY

Aeolian Hall New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Why Experiment?

Use a

Standard Brand

of Cocoa.

BENSDORP'S

Absolutely

Pure.

BENSDORPS

ROYAL DUTCH

CDCDA

iMSDOflf

KpYAL DUT<*

Requires only

as much
as of other makes
because of its
DOUBLE STRENGTH

Always in Yellow Wrapper. Sample on request.

STEPHEN L. BARTLETT COMPANY, Importers, Boston

Report on Advertising Competition No. 131

It seems so trite every month to say " The
judges were pleased with the interesting an-
swers," and yet you boys and girls are contin-
ually surprising us with your clever ideas and
quaint ways of expressing them. You are at
your very best when you don't try too hard.
Just be yourself — nobody but you can be.

The first prize was awarded to a ten-year-old
lad who wrote about a Calvert School adver-
tisement. His letter was a silent tribute to this
excellent institution. The other prize-winning
letters are so meritorious that each prize-winner
mentioned below should take particular pride
in having his or her name appear in this issue.

You who did not receive prizes should not
feel discouraged. Some of you did excellent
work, but forgot some of the rules. Watch
these carefully. Then, too, it would be much
easier for the judges if you wrote on one side
of the paper only.

Now let's all work with might and main on
the puzzle in this number, because it is a good
one, even if Alexander did invent it.

Here are the victors :

One First Prize, $5.00 :

William Wootton Ladd, age 10, Alabama.

(See also
32

Tiuo Second Prizes, Sj.oo each:

Paul Olsen, age 15, Washington.
Al. Schrier, age 1 5, New York.

Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each :

Mary Maud Hollington, age 14, California.
Persis L. Whitehead, age 11, Illinois.
Thyrza Weston, age 1 5, Ohio.

Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each :

Eugenia Consigny, age 11, Nebraska.
Aaron Cohen, age 1 7, Illinois.
Manola Coburn, age 14, Maine.
Thurston Macauley, age 11, North Carolina.
Sarah Roody, age 13, New York.
Margaret Conty, age 16, New York.
Helen Stalnacke, age 16, New York.
Mary McNally, age 8, New York.
Marjorie Berdan, age 13, New Jersey.
Dorothy M. Rogers, age 18, Massachusetts.

Honorable Mention :

Gladys A. Doloff, age 13, Maine.
Clara Hawkins, Texas.
Louise Corey, age 13, New York.
Harriet Crawford, age to, Illinois.

page 30. )

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

■/2 Pint
■/2 Dollar

Buy the big Household or Fac-
tory Size 3-in-One and get 8
times as much oil for your money.

3-in-0ne keeps almost everything in
home, office or store perfectly oiled — also
as clean and bright as a new silver dollar.

Always use 3-in-One on sewing machines,
typewriters, razors, cameras, talking ma-
chines, furniture, bath room fixtures, guns,
reels, and hundreds of other things.

The 3-in-One Dictionary, with every bot-
tle, shows you scores of ways this good oil
makes hard work easy.

PP pp Generous sample bottle sent on request. Try before
rlYEiEi you buy.

SOLD AT ALL GOOD STORES

3-IN-ONE OIL COMPANY

42 Q. H. Broadway, New York

Housewives — Try 3-in-One for Dusting.

BREAKFAST

A morning beverage that is delicious
— with any meal — anytime — for grow-
ing children — every member of the
family. Highly nourishing for in-
valids, and easily digested. Finely
flavored, and always healthful.

At All Leading Grocers

Fifth Avenue at 35th Street

CHOCOLATES. BONBONS, FRENCH BONBONNIERES

Afternoon tea served in the
Luncheon Restaurant, three- to six.

jSmce- 1857

BORDEN'S

EAGLE BRAND
CONDENSED MILK

Has been the
Leading Brand
/or Household U s e

and Nursery

BORDEN'S

Condensed

Milk Co.

N ew York

Send for Recipe Book
Send for Baby's Book

"LEADERS OF QUAUTT

57'. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

St. Nicholas Pet Department

to all those interested in pets.

Addr

Announcements of reliable advertisers only are ac-
cepted. The Department will gladly give advice
PET DEPARTMENT," St. Nicholas, Union Square, New York.

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.

IRISH TERRIERS

The best "youths' companion." Strong,
hardy pups always for sale.

Bay Shore Kennels, "Clifton," Shelburne, Vt.

Money inSquabs <&

Learn this immensely rich business I
we teach you; easy work at home;
everybody succeeds. Start with our
Jumbo Homei Pigeons and your success is assured.
Send for large Illustrated Book. Providence
Squab Company, Providence, Rhode Island.

Do you love dogs?

Send stamp for
" Dog Culture" to

SPRATT'S Patent Limited

Newark, N. J.

THIS IS WANG

a darling Pekingese puppy, the little dog with
a big bark, a big heart, a big brain. Pekingese
are unexcelled in theiraffection, intelligence, and
sturdiness. Small enough to hug, big enough to
be a real comrade and playfellow. The Ideal Pet.
Others like Wang waiting to be your pet.
All ages and colors, prices reasonable.

PEKIN KENNELS

Jericho Turnpike Mineola, L. I., N.|Y.

Established 1875

PETS

All kinds, and everything for them

Send for Catalogue " R "

William Bartels Co.

44 Cortlandt St., N. Y.

THE BEST DOG

for a companion or watch-dog is the
Collie. Alert, intelligent, faithful,
handsome, he meets every require-
ment. We have some fine specimens
to sell at low prices. Send for a copy
of "Training the Collie," price 25 cents.

F. R. CLARK, Prop.

SUNNYBRAE KENNELS(Registered)

Bloomington, III.

Airedale Terriers

Most popular dog of the day

The Airedale is the best companion,
watch-dog-, and all-round hunting-dog.
Ideal pets for children, faithful, kind,
and wonderful intelligence.

Puppies from $25 up.

Beazttiful booklet free.

Elmhurst Airedale Kennels
Kansas City, Mo. Sta. E.

BULL TERRIERS

Do you want a dog like this for a com-
panion and playfellow? I am now
booking orders for puppies that are sons
of this dog, who is one of the biggest
prize-winners of 1912. Also older stock
for sale. Photos, testimonials, prices, etc.

Eugene E.Thomas, Attleboro, Mass.

West Highland White Terrier Pups

ByCh.GlenmohrModel.

Ex. Talisker Twinkles.

Address

HIGHLAND KENNELS

Care D. B. Merriam
Lyons Falls, New York

WHETHER it be jolly old winter, joyous springtime, soft warm summer, or
crisp bracing autumn, your good times will be all the better if you have a pet
of your very own to share your good times with you. Whatever you like best, be it
a sturdy Shetland pony, a soft, fluffy kitten, a loving, faithful dog, or beautiful birds of
one kind or another, the Pet Department can help you to get the very best. We
are here to tell you all we know about all kinds of pets, and their care and feeding.
We want you to ask questions and will try to help you all we can. We believe
the people who advertise in our Pet Department are absolutely reliable, and if you
don't get what you want from them, please let us know. Can we help you now ?

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Advertising Rates

Effective with issue of January, 1913

St. Nicholas Magazine

Established 1873

One page ( 5%" x 8" ) ' $150.00

Half page ( S'A" x 4" or 2%" x 8" ) 75.00

Quarter page ( 5'/2" x 2" or 2%" x 4" ) 37.50

Less than quarter page at line rate 1.00

DISCOUNTS

10% on 3 pages within 12 months.
25% on 6 pages within 12 months.
25% on 12 consecutive insertions.

3 pages in The Century with 3 pages in St. Nicholas, within 12

months, earn yearly rate in each magazine.
Advertisements less than one-half inch are not accepted.
28 lines is smallest rate holder accepted.
Preferred positions by contract.
Two-page insert furnished by advertiser, $360.00.

TERMS

3% discount for cash. All bills are due on 25th
of month preceding date of issue.

Forms close on 25th of second month preced-
ing date of issue.

Address mail or express matter

Advertising Department
The Century Co.

33 East 17th Street, New York City

MENNEN'S

"FOR MINE

Mennen's EK£ Powder

keeps my skin in healthy condition

Sample Box for 4c stamp
For ISc in stamps we will mail you
prepaid our beautiful 1913 calendar

GERHARD MENNEN CO.

Newark, N. J.

Trade Mark

Thru Vrtnte

-H

^HANDS

Hinds
Liquid
Cream

in bottle

50c

HINDS 'SSSSf CREAM

Relieves at once, quickly heals, makes clear, velvety skin. Complexions are greatly im-
proved by its use. Endorsed by refined women. Soothes infants' skin troubles. Men who
shave prefer it. — Is not greasy; cannot grow hair; is absolutely harmless. At all dealers.
Write tor Free Sample Bottle ind Tube. A. S. HINDS, 74 West St., Portland, Maine

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

^HE next time you are brightening up things about the house, consider the
>piano. Is the woodwork dull and lusterless? Are the keys soiled and
discolored ? You can wash the piano just as safely and satisfactorily
as you can wash the furniture if you use Ivory Soap and follow these directions :

To Clean the Woodwork

Dissolve a quarter of a small cake of
Ivory Soap, shaved fine, in a pint of boil-
ing water. When lukewarm apply with a
soft sponge. Rinse with cold water, using
another soft sponge. Dry with a damp
chamois. Wash a small section at a time.
Do not allow water to dry on the surface.

To Clean the Keys

Dip a clean, soft cloth, in tepid water
and wring almost dry. Rub on a cake of
Ivory Soap and wipe off the keys. Polish
at once with a damp chamois.

Clean the woodwork once a month,
the keys once a week, and you can keep
your piano like new.

IVORY SOAP, because of its mildness, purity and freedom from alkali,
> cannot mar the finish. Because of its freedom from excessive oil, it rinses
easily and does not leave a film upon the surface. The dirt which
obscures the finish is removed so that the original polish of the woodwork is
restored and the keys appear as white as when new.

IVORY SOAP

99 *

100/°

PURE

<r^&z?«g&S2«&r?

BRAHAM LINCOLN— "THE MATTERHORN OF MEN"

FEBRUARY, 1913

5T NICHOLAS

LLUSTRATED MAGAZINE

-OR BOYS AND GIRLS

9 FREDERICK WARNE & CO • BEDFORD ST • STRAND • LONDON #

THE- CENTURY-CO- UNION -SQUARE -NEW- YORK

WILLIAM W. ELLSWORTH, VICE-PRESIDENT AND SECRETARY. DONALD SCOTT, TREASURER. UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK.

Copyright, 1913, byThe Century Co.] (Title Registered U. S. Pat. Off.) [Entered at N. Y. Post Office as Secor.d Class Mail Matter.

\%p>

([iiiiiiiiiiiiiiim

36 Years Ago

Gustavus F. Swift began business in
Chicago, occupying one small frame
building and employing fifteen persons.

From this modest beginning the business has grown during
the lifetime of one man until now the manufacturing plants cover
more than 265 acres of floor space.

Swift & Company's sales for 1912 exceeded $300,000,000 and the
pay-roll is over $25,000,000 a year to more than 27,000 employes.
Branch houses and agencies are maintained in nearly every city
and town all over the world.

Throughout Swift & Company's establishments signs are
posted instructing employes to Keep Meats Clean, and a large staff
of inspectors employed by the company is always on duty to see
that this order is obeyed.

Swift & Company have always adhered strictly to this policy:
e the best goods possible, strive continually for their im-
lent, and sell them at the smallest profit consistent with
- investment."

All of this for the sole purpose of furnishing you, whoever and
wherever you may be, with the best and cleanest meats and other
food products that thought, genius, experience and labor can devise.

The great measure of success attained is the result of this
policy. Swift & Company cannot afford to deviate from it, to label
any product "Swift's Premium" unless it is as perfect as present
day knowledge and genius can make it.

Insist upon your dealer supplying you with

"Swift's Premium" Ham and Bacon "Swift's Premium" Kettle Rendered Lard
"Swift's Premium" Oleomargarine "Swift's Premium" Milk Fed Chickens

It is to your interest to buy "Swift's Premium"
products if you want the best.

Look for the Legend:

"U. S. Inspected and Passed'

on all of the meat food products you buy.

-C^

*%,

uu^

Swift & Company
u. s. A.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

If you enjoy musical comedies,
you should have a Victor

This wonderful instrument not only-
repeats for you right in your own home
the charming selections from the popular
operettas now delighting the public, but
revives for you beautiful old-time favor-
ites which are rarely heard nowadays,
and also brings to you many of the
European successes long before they
are produced in this country.
\ With a Victor you can hear sparkling
medleys of a half-dozen or more selec-
tions from more than fifty operettas, su-
perbly rendered by the talented Victor
Light Opera Company; or you can hear
individual numbers sung by leading
stage favorites.

And this is but one of the many forms
of music and entertainment that delight
you on the Victor.

Any Victor dealer in any city in the world
will gladly play your favorite music for you.

Victor-Victrolas $15 to $200. Victors $10 to $100.
Easy terms can be arranged with your dealer if desired.

Victor Talking Machine Co., Camden, N. J., U. S. A.

Berliner Gramophone Co., Montreal, Canadian Distributors.

Always use Victor Machines with Victor Records
and Victor Needles — the combination. There is
no other way to get the unequaled Victor tone.

"Victor

New Victor Records are on sale at all dealers on the 28th of each month.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

and many miles long.

Polly and Peter Ponds

I live in New York City, you
I know, and had been in that
subway lots of times. You
can imagine how surprised
they were to find this subway
so far off in the country.

It is generally called the

Mammoth Cave — well, of

course you know about that,

and so did Polly and Peter —

they did remember someof their

geography — but they did n't

have any idea how immense

and how wonderful it was.

In the pictureyou can seehow astonishedthey were to find the cave

all lined with queer shapes that hung from the roof and came up

from the floor, like icicles, but made of solid limestone — and then

there are underground rivers and wonderful palace rooms and

queer blind fish and reptiles.

" Oh, Peter!" cried Polly, after they had walked and walked for miles, it seemed, over natural
stone bridges and under roofs that seemed lined with jewels in the queer light of the lanterns the guides
carried — " Oh, Peter, is n't this just great? "When Papa said this was a subway, I thought it would
be like ours, but it 's so clean and quiet and beautiful!"

"Yes," replied Peter, "and it 's nice and warm too. Do you remember how chilly and raw it was
outdoors? They say this stays the same all the year round."

" Well," said Polly, after a while, "I'm awfully glad it is so nice because I have n't brought our
jar of

Poivds Extract Company's

Vanishing Cream

" Why, you put a lot of that stuff on your face before you came out," Peter reminded her. "I
remember how quickly it disappeared."

" It 's still in there," said Polly, patting her rosy cheek; " it keeps out chaps and prevents my
skin getting all rough."

" It smelled just like a bunch of roses," remarked Peter. " Just get some at the next drug-store
— the place where we bought our Pond's Extract."

"All right," replied Polly. " There may be other subways as fine as the Mammoth Cave, but there
is nothing so fine for your skin as Pond's Extract Vanishing Cream."

If you boys and girls want a nice sample tube of Pond's Extract Company's Vanishing
Cream for your very own use, just write to Pond's Extract Company and ask them for one.

POND'S EXTRACT COMPANY

131 Hudson Street - - New York

POND'S EXTRACT COMPANY'S Vanishing Cream
— Talcum Powder — Toilet Soap — Pond's Extract

[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 FEBRUARY, 1913.

Frontispiece. "Sir Roger de Coverley." From a painting by Fred Page

Morgan.
The Adventures of Young Grumpy. (" Babes of the Wild "—II.). .Charles G. D. Roberts 291

Illustrated by Paul Bransom.

When Mother 's Visiting. Pictures. Drawn by Gertrude A. Kay.

" Writing to Mother " 296

" The Monorail " 297

Noll and Antoonje, and How They Entertained the Beggars.

Story. Illustrated by Herbert Paus Mrs. Ernest Atkins 298

Birds of the Year. Verse. Illustrated by Bruce Horsfall Minnie Leona Upton 306

More Than Conquerors: The Matterhorn of Men. Biographical Sketch .Ariadne Gilbert. 308

Illustrations by Eastman Johnson, Oscar F. Schmidt, Harry Fenn, and from
photographs.

Sir Christopher J. Jones. Verse Frederick Moxon 316

Illustrated by Reginald Birch.

Looking at the Stars. ("Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects.") George Lawrence Parker 318

The Outer Reef. Story Grace E. Craig 320

Illustrated by I. W. Taber.

Fine Feathers. Verse Carolyn WeUs 326

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.

The Conduct of the Conductor. Story Elizabeth c. Webb . : 328

Illustrated by George Varian.

Flossy's Way. Verse John E. Dolsen 331

•n . . c t\ j ^ • , „ S Emilie Benson Knipe and ) oqo

Beatrice of Denewood Semi Story Alden ^ Kni \ ... 332

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. ' '

When Grandma Was a Little Girl. Verse Sarah K. Smith 339

Illustrated by the Author.

/ Jean Jules Jusserand
I John Bigelow
" The Boy and the Man." (Talks with Boys.) (Conclusion.) 1 James McCrea ^ 340

Illustrations from photographs. / EndlCOtt PeabOdy

\ Hamilton Wright Mable /
Ted, Ned, and the Sled. Verse Minnie Leona Upton 344

Illustrated by S. Wendell Mitchell.

The First Inventions. Sketch George Ethelbert Walsh 345

The Jovial Judge. Verse J. G. Francis 347

Illustrated by the Author.

What the Kettle Sings. Verse Margaret Vandegrift 348

Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan.

The Land of Mystery. Serial Story Cleveland Moffett 349

Illustrated by Jay Hambidge, Jules Guerin, and from photographs.

In Memory of Frank Hall Scott. Sketch 358

Illustrated from photograph.

Dolly's Lullaby. Verse Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer . 360

Illustrated by Blanche Fisher Wright.

For Very Little Folk :

What Happened to the Squirrel Family. Story Julia Johnson 361

Illustrated by G. A. Harker.

Nature and Science for Young Folks 364

Illustrated.
St. Nicholas League. With Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems,

Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles 372

Illustrated.

Books and Beading Hildegarde Hawthorne 380

The Letter-Box 382

The Biddle-Box 383

St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 22

The Century Co. and its editors receive mamiscripts and art material, submitted for publica-
tion, only on the understanding: that they shall not be responsible for loss, or i?ijury thereto,
while in their possession or in transit. Copies of manuscripts should be retained by the authors.

Subscription price, $3.00 a year; single number, 25 cents. The half-yearly parts of ST. NICHOLAS end with
the October and April numbers respectively, and the red cloth covers are ready with the issue of these numbers ; price 50 cents, by mail,
postpaid ; the two covers for the complete volume, $1.00. We bind and furnish covers for /5 cents per part, or $1.50 for the complete
volume. (Carriage extra.) In sending the numbers to us, they should be distinctly marked with owner's name. Bound volumes are
not exchanged for numbers.

WILLIAM W. ELLSWORTH, Vice-President and Secretary. THE CENTUBY CO., UniOU SfJUare, NeW York, N. Y.

DONALD SCOTT, Treasurer.

Entered as second-class matter at the Post-Office Department, Canada.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

rfiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiuiiiiiuuuiiiiiiiimiiiiiii!

V These boys and girls have hurried up to see what is on the St. Nicholas Bulletin. Presently they will go awaj
and tell their friends about the treats in St. Nicholas, and their friends will ask their parents to subscribe
1T Do you tell your friends how much you like St. Nicholas?

»tt,val

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

fojiJThese Fine Things

Putting up a Business Building That Would
Hold the People of a Good Sized Town.
Strange Friendships of Some Animals

Mt^.

[igjill!llllfilll&

Remember that our Bulletin tells only a little of what you can count on getting in future numbers. Hosts of
iver, valuable things that you can't afford to miss will appear every month.
Three dollars a year. The Century Co. , Union Square, New York.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

&£>frVJ<S tgJ^r&dGfa&L

Men, women, and children, book-lovers and those who seldom read
books and still more seldom buy them, are purchasing these two
pleasure-giving little volumes, which have in them just the elements
of pathos and humor that give them an almost universal appeal.

THE LADY
AND SADA SAN

By Frances Little

Hit ID you ever read "The Lady of
the Decoration"? It was issued
six years ago, and it made one of
the most phenomenal successes
in the history of book publishing.
It was the love story of a young American
girl teaching in a kindergarten in Japan.
Here is its sequel, — and one good thing about
it is that it makes no difference whether you
read "The Lady of the Decoration" or not,
you will enjoy this just the same. Here " the
Lady" herself is married, but " Sada San"
is n't (until the very end of the book), and her
story will keep you interested every minute.
Price $1. 00 net. By mail $1.06

DADDY-
LONG-LEGS

By Jean Webster

OF Jean Webster's "When Patty Went
to College," more than a hundred
thousand copies were sold, but she
has surpassed herself in this new
story. Imagine a girl taken out of
an orphan asylum and sent to college by an un-
known benefactor. The orphan has never seen
her philanthropic friend, but she is obliged
to write him monthly letters. She knows
nothing about the world, or books, or much of
anything else, but she is just a delight, and
you never read such clever letters as hers.
If the philanthropist happens to be young you
won't mind when the end of the book comes.
Price $1.00 net. By mail $1. 08

You will surely read these books before 191 3 is over, — everybody will. Why not get
them at once? Every bookstore has them or you can send the price to the publishers,

The Century Co., Union Square, New York City

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

More than a Million Copies

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MYRTELLA

A ROMANCE OF
BILLY-GOAT HILL

By Alice Hegan Rice

Author of "Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch,"
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A splendid love story that will hold the reader's
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A beautifully made volume containing eight full-page illustrations by Wright. 404 pages,
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ST. NICHOLAS

Vol. XL

FEBRUARY, 1913

No. 4

THE ADVENTURES OF YOUNG GRUMPY

SECOND STORY OF THE SERIES ENTITLED "BABES OF THE WILD"

BY CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS

Uncle Andy tapped his pipe on the log beside
him to knock out the ashes, and proceeded
thoughtfully to fill it up again. The Babe seated
himself on the grass, clasped his arms around his
bare, little, brown, mosquito-bitten knees, and
stared upward hopefully, with grave, round eyes,
as blue as the bluebells nodding beside him.

"Speaking of woodchucks," began Uncle Andy
presently, "I 've known a lot of them in my time,
and I 've almost always found them interesting.
Like some people we know, they 're sometimes
most amusing when they are most serious.

"There was Young Grumpy, now, as sober-
minded a woodchuck as ever burrowed a bank.
From his earliest days, he took life seriously, and
never seemed to think it worth his while to play
as the other wild youngsters do. Yet, in spite of
himself, he was sometimes quite amusing.

"He had the good fortune to be born in the
back pasture of Anderson's farm. That was
where the Boy lived, you know. And it was
rather lucky to be born there, — except for wea-
sels, of course."

"Why not for weasels?" demanded the Babe.

"Well now, you ought to know that yourself,"
replied Uncle Andy, impatient at being inter-
rupted. "The weasels are such merciless killers
themselves, that both Mr. Anderson and the Boy
always made a point of putting them out of the
way whenever they got a chance."

"I should think so !" agreed the Babe, severely,

resolving to devote his future to the extermina-
tion of weasels.

"Young Grumpy's home life," continued Uncle
Andy, "with his father and mother and four
brothers and sisters, was not a pampered one.
There are few wild parents less given to spoiling
their young than a pair of grumbling old wood-
chucks. The father, who spent most of his time
sleeping, rolled up in a ball at the bottom of the
burrow, paid them no attention except to nip at
them crossly when they tumbled over him. They
were always relieved when he went off, three .or
four times a day, down into the neighboring
clover-field, to make his meals. The little ones
did not see what he was good for, anyhow, till
one morning, when the black-and-yellow dog
from the next farm happened along. The young-
sters, with their mother, were basking in the sun
just outside the front door. As the dog sprang
at them, they all fairly fell, head over heels, back
into the burrow. The dog, immensely disap-
pointed, set to work frantically to dig them out.
He felt sure that young woodchuck would be
very good to eat.

"It was then that Old Grumpy showed what he
was made of. Thrusting his family rudely aside,
he scurried up the burrow to the door, where the
dog was making the earth fly at a most alarming
rate. Without a moment's hesitation, he sank his
teeth into the rash intruder's nose, and held on.

"The dog yelped and choked, and tried to back

292

THE ADVENTURES OF YOUNG GRUMPY

out of the hole in a hurry. But it was no use.
The old woodchuck had a solid grip, and was
pulling with all his might in the other direction.
Panic-stricken, and half smothered by the dry
earth, the dog dug in his hind claws, bent his
back like a bow, and pulled for all he was worth,
yelling till you might have thought there were
half a dozen dogs in that hole. At last, after
perhaps two or three minutes — which seemed to
the dog much longer — the old woodchuck decided
to let go. You see, he did n't really want that
dog, or even that dog's nose, in the burrow. So he
opened his jaws, suddenly. At that, the dog
went right over backward, all four legs in the
air, like a wooden dog. But the next instant, he
was on his feet again, and tearing away like mad
down the pasture, ki-yi-ing like a whipped puppy,
although he was a grown-up dog and ought to
have been ashamed of himself to make such a
noise. And never after that, they tell me, could
he be persuaded under any circumstances to go
within fifteen feet of anything that looked like a
woodchuck hole."

"I 'm not one bit sorry for him," muttered the
Babe, in spite of himself. "He had no business
there at all."

"The mother of the woodchuck family," went
on Uncle Andy, "was not so cross as the father,
but she was very careless. She would sit up on
her fat haunches in the door of the burrow while
the babies were nibbling around outside, pretend-
ing to keep an eye on them. But half the time
she would be sound asleep, with her head dropped
straight down on her chest, between her little
black paws. One day, as she was dozing thus
comfortably, a marsh-hawk came flapping low
overhead, and pounced on one of the youngsters
before it had time to more than squeak. At the
sound of that despairing squeak, to be sure, she
woke up, and made a savage rush at the enemy.
But the wary bird was already in the air, with
the prize drooping from his talons. And the
mother could do nothing but sit up and chatter
after him abusively as he sailed away to his nest.

"But to return to Young Grumpy. While he
was yet very young, his sleepy mother, who had
seen him and his brothers and sisters eating grass
very comfortably, decided that they were big
enough to look out for themselves. Then she
turned them all out of the burrow. When they
came presently scurrying back again, hoping it
was all an unhappy joke, she nipped them most
unfeelingly. Their father snored. There was no
help in that quarter. They scuttled dejectedly
forth again.

"Outside, in the short pasture-grass and scat-
tered ox-eyed daisies, they looked at each other

suspiciously ; and each felt that, somehow, it was
the other fellow's fault. Aggrieved and misera-
ble, they went rambling off, each his own way, to
face alone what fate might have in store for
him. And Young Grumpy, looking up from a
melancholy but consoling feast which he was
making on a mushroom, found himself alone in
the world.

"He did n't care a fig. You see, he was so
grumpy.

"For a week or more, he wandered about the
pasture, sleeping under stumps and in mossy
hollows, and fortunately escaping, by reason of
his light rusty-gray color, the eyes of passing
hawks. At last, chance, or his nose for good liv-
ing, led him down to the clover meadow adjoin-
ing Anderson's barn-yard.

"It was here that his adventures may be said to
have begun.

"Just as he was happily filling himself with
clover, a white dog, with short-cropped ears
standing up stiffly, came by and stopped to look
at him with bright, interested eyes. Young
Grumpy, though the stranger was big enough to
take him in two mouthfuls, felt not frightened,
but annoyed. He gave a chuckling squeak of
defiance, and rushed straight at the dog.

"Now this was the Boy's bull-terrier, Major,
and he had been severely trained to let small,
helpless creatures alone. He had got it into his
head that all such creatures were the Boy's prop-
erty, and so to be guarded and respected. He
was afraid lest he might hurt this cross little
animal and get into trouble with the Boy. So he
kept jumping out of the way, stiff-leggedly, as if
very much amused, and at the same time, he kept
barking, as if to call the Boy to come and see.
Young Grumpy, feeling very big, followed him
up with short, threatening rushes, till he found
himself just at the open gate leading into the
farm-yard.

"Parading solemnly before the gate was a tall,
gray gander with only one eye. That one eye,
extra keen and fierce, caught sight of Young
Grumpy, and probably mistook him for an im-
mense rat, thief of eggs, and murderer of
goslings. With a harsh hiss and neck outstretched
till it was like a snake, the great bird darted at
him.

"Young Grumpy hesitated. After the manner
of his kind, he sat up on his haunches to hesi-
tate. The gander seemed to him very queer, and
perhaps dangerous.

"At this critical moment, the white dog inter-
fered. In his eyes Young Grumpy belonged to
the Boy, and was, therefore, valuable property.
He ran at the gander. The gander, recognizing

vs.

fAVjK - '&RAN-SONJ^_^ J

HE WAS TEARING AWAY LIKE MAD DOWN THE PASTURE,
KI-YI-ING LIKE A WHIPPED PUPPY.'"

294

THE ADVENTURES OF YOUNG GRUMPY

[Feb.,

his authority, withdrew, haughty and protesting.
Young Grumpy followed with a triumphant rush
— and, of course, took all the credit to himself.

"This led him into the farm-yard. Here he
promptly forgot both the dog and the gander.
It was such a strange place, and full of such
strange smells. He was about to turn back into
the more familiar clover, when, as luck would
have it, he stumbled upon a half-eaten carrot
which had been dropped by one of the horses.
How good it smelled ! And then, how good it
tasted ! Oh, no ! the place where such things
were to be found was not a place for him to
leave in a hurry !

"As he was feasting" greedily on the carrot, the
Boy appeared, with the white dog at his heels.
He did not look nearly so terrible as the gander.
So, angry at being disturbed, and thinking he had
come for the carrot, Young Grumpy ran at him
at once.

"But the Boy did not run away. Surprised at
his courage, Young Grumpy stopped short, at a
distance of two or three feet from the Boy's stout
shoes, sat up on his haunches with his little,
skinny, black hands over his chest, and began to
gurgle and squeak harsh threats. The boy
laughed, and stretched out a hand to touch him.
Young Grumpy snapped so savagely, however,
that the Boy snatched back his hand and stood
observing him with amused interest, waving off
the white dog, lest the latter should interrupt.
Young Grumpy went on blustering with his
muffled squeaks for perhaps a minute. Then,
seeing that the Boy was neither going to run
away nor fight, he dropped on all fours indiffer-
ently, and returned to his carrot.

"There was nothing pleased the Boy better
than seeing the harmless wild creatures get fa-
miliar about the place. He went now and fetched
a saucer of milk from the dairy, and set it down
beside Young Grumpy, who scolded at him, but
refused to budge an inch. The yellow cat — an
amiable soul, too well fed to hunt even mice with
any enthusiasm — followed the Boy, with an inter-
ested eye on the saucer. At sight of Young
Grumpy, her back went up, her tail grew big as a
bottle, and she spat disapprovingly. As the
stranger paid her no attention, however, she
sidled cautiously up to the milk, and began to
lap it.

"The sound of her lapping caught Young
Grumpy's attention. It was an alluring sound.
Leaving the remains of his carrot, he came boldly
up to the saucer The yellow cat flattened back
her ears, growled, and stood her ground till he
was within a foot of her. Then, with, an angry
pf-f-f, she turned tail and fled. The stranger was

so calmly sure of himself that she concluded he
must be some new kind of skunk— and her respect
for all skunks was something tremendous.

"Having finished the milk and the carrot,
Young Grumpy felt a pressing need of sleep.
Turning his back on the Boy and the dog, as if
they were not worth noticing, he ambled off along
the garden fence, looking for a convenient hole.
The one-eyed gander, who had been watching
him with deep disfavor from the distance, seeing
that he was now no longer under the protection of
the white dog, came stalking up from the other end
of the yard to have it out with him— thief of eggs
and murderer of goslings, as the wrathful bird
mistook him to be ! But Young Grumpy, having
found a cool-looking hole under the fence, had
whisked into it and vanished.

"As matters stood now, Young Grumpy felt
himself quite master of the situation. His heart-
less mother was forgotten. Farm-yard, clover-
field, and cool, green garden were all his. Had
he not routed all presumptuous enemies but the
Boy?— and the latter seemed very harmless.

"It was not till after several days of garden
life that, lured by the memory of the carrot, he
again visited the barn-yard. At first it seemed to
be quite deserted— and there was no sign of a
carrot anywhere. Then he caught sight of the
yellow cat, and scurried toward her, thinking per-
haps it was her fault there were no carrots. She
fluffed her tail, gave a yowl of indignation, and
scurried into the barn. Neither the white dog,
nor the Boy, nor the one-eyed gander, was any-
where in sight. Young Grumpy decided that it
was a poor place, the barn-yard, after all.

"He was on the point of turning back to the
green abundance of the garden ; but, at this point,
the one-eyed gander came stalking up from the
goose-pond. He was lonely and bad-tempered.
Young Grumpy looked at the big, gray bird, and
recalled the little unpleasantness of their previous
encounter.

"'Oh, ho!' said he to himself (if woodchucks
ever do talk to themselves), 'I '11 just give that
ugly chap beans, as I did the other day.' And he
went scurrying across the yard to see about it.

"To his immense surprise, the gander at first
paid him no attention whatever. You see, he was
on the side of the gander's blind eye.

"Now Young Grumpy was so puzzled by this
indifference that, instead of rushing right in and
biting the haughty bird, he sat up on his haunches
at a distance of some five or six feet, and began
to squeak his defiance. The gander turned his
head, and stared for about three seconds. Then
he opened his long, yellow bill, gave vent to a hiss
like the blowing off of an escape pipe, stuck out

ISU3-]

THE ADVENTURES OF YOUNG GRUMPY

295

his snaky neck close to the ground, lifted his
wide gray-and-white wings, and charged.

"Before Young Grumpy had time even to won-
der if he had been imprudent or not, the hard
elbow of one of those wiiigs caught him a blow
on the ear, and knocked him head over heels. At
the same time, it swept him to one side ; and the
gander rushed on, straight over the spot where
he had been sitting.

"Young Grumpy picked himself up, startled and
shaken. The thing had been so unexpected ! tie
would have rather liked to run away. But he
was too angry and too obstinate. He just sat up
on his haunches again, intending to make another
and more successful attack as soon as his head
stopped buzzing.

"The gander, meanwhile, was surprised also.
He could not understand how his enemy had got
out of the way so quickly. Fie stared around,
and then, turning his one eye skyward, as if he
thought Young Grumpy might have gone that
way, he trumpeted a loud honka-honka-honk-kah.

"For some reason, this strange cry broke
Young Grumpy's nerve. He scuttled for his hole,
his jet black heels kicking up the straws behind
him. As soon as he began to run, of course the

gander saw him, and swept after him with a
ferocious hiss. But Young Grumpy had got the
start. He dived into his hole just as the gander
brought up against the fence.

"Now the moment he found himself inside his
burrow, all Young Grumpy's courage returned.
Fie wheeled and stuck his head out again, as
much as to say, 'Now come on if you dare !'

"The gander came on, promptly, — so promptly,
in fact, that the lightning stroke of his heavy bill
knocked Young Grumpy far back into the hole
again.

"In a great rage, the gander darted his head
into the hole. Chattering with indignation.
Young Grumpy set his long teeth into that intrud-
ing bill, and tried to pull it farther in. The
gander, much taken aback at this turn of affairs
tried to pull it out again. For perhaps half a
minute, it was a very good tug of war. Then the
superior weight and strength of the great bird,
with all the advantage of his beating wings, sud-
denly triumphed, and Young Grumpy, too pig-
headed to let go his hold, was jerked forth once
more into the open.

"The next moment, another blow from one of
those mighty wing-elbows all but stunned him.

'HE LIFTED HIS WIDE GRAY-AND-WHITE WINGS AND CHARGED.

296

THE ADVENTURES OF YOUNG GRUMPY

[Feb.,

and his grip relaxed. He made a groping rush
for the burrow ; but in that same instant, the
gander's great bill seized him by the back of the
neck and lifted him high into the air.

"This was very near being the end of Young
Grumpy, for the one-eyed gander would now
have bitten and banged and hammered at him
till he was as dead as a last year's June-bug. But,
happily, the Boy and the white dog came running
up in the nick of time. The gander dropped his
victim and stalked off haughtily. And poor

Young Grumpy, after turning twice around in a
confused way, crawled back into his hole.

"The white dog opened his mouth from ear to
ear, and looked up at the Boy with an unmistakable
grin. The Boy, half laughing, half sympathetic,
went and peered into the hole.

" 'I guess you 'd better keep out of Old Wall-
Eye's way after this !' said he.

"And Young Grumpy did. Whenever the one-
eyed gander was in the yard, then Young Grumpy
would scurry and scuttle away to the garden."

WHEN MOTHER 'S VISITING

PICTURES BY GERTRUDE A. KAY

WRITING TO MOTHER.'

I9I3-]

WHEN MOTHER 'S VISITING

297

THE MONORAIL.'

And HowThVy
Ent ert ained
The Beggars'

-T— T-

Mrs. Ernest Atkins

Antoonje sat by his own hearthstone one Mon-
day evening, enjoying his supper. It was a good
supper. "The cheese has a great smell," thought
Antoonje, sniffing. He was glad that he was a
rich man and could buy such cheeses as that. And
the firelight danced on the silver teaspoons which
Lys kept so bright and shining.

"A fine thing to have real silver teaspoons,"
thought Antoonje.

He lifted his cup, noticing how fine it was, with
the rosy light of the fire glowing through it.

"A fine thing to have such chinaware as that,"
said Antoonje to himself. He rose from the
table, and stretched himself and yawned. How
he hated to leave the warm fire ! Lys helped him
on with his greatcoat, and he opened the door.

Whisht ! how the wind blew ! B-r-r-h-h ! how
cold it was ! It made Antoonje shiver, although his
coat was lined with fur. He turned up his collar
and tramped off over the snow to the barns. The
cows and sheep were huddled together for warmth.

"'WHAT A KINE COAT YOU HAVE,

"A fine thing to have such a grand lot of sheep
and kine," said Antoonje.

"That it is, sir," said a voice.

Antoonje gave a start of surprise. He lifted
his lantern, and there, huddled up in a corner, was
a beggar man, who looked like nothing so much
as a bundle of rags, with a red-nosed face stick-
ing out of the top.

"Well, old rags and bones !" said Antoonje,
curtly. "What are you doing here, I 'd like to
know?"

"What a fine coat you have, Mynheer!" said
the beggar. "I should like to be hugging it round
inc. Summer-time is the beggars' holiday, Myn-
heer— what with the good sun a-shining and cost-
ing ne'er a penny, and the warm breezes fluttering
and flapping the rags and tags so gaily ; with ber-
ries on every bush, and a concert in every tree-
top ! Yes, summer-time is the beggars' holiday,
Mynheer Antoonje. But winter 's a bad time."

"What 's all that got to do with me, I 'd like

NOLL AND ANTOONJE

299

mynheer!' said the beggar."

to know !" said Antoonje, in his harsh voice.
'"There are poor and there are rich in this world,
and I 'm this and you 're that. Move on, now ! I
can't have a strange fellow in my barn."

"Here I am in a pretty fix," said the beggar,
cheerily. "And all because of having such a
tongue in my head ! 'T is better to shiver in a
barn corner than to be wandering across the snow
with your toes like ice in your shoes."

"Some have warm shoes and some have n't,"
said Antoonje. "It 's the way of the world. I 'm
going in and to bed now. But first I '11 see you
gone, and the barn door locked. Go over there
and toast your toes at Noll's fire, if you like !"

And with that, Antoonje gave the poor beggar
a shove with his foot, and turned him out-of-
doors.

"B-r-r-h-h !" said Antoonje, as he turned toward
the house. "How cold it is — cold enough for two
coats !" He was glad to get indoors again and sit
by the fire with his pipe between his teeth, and

watch Lys knitting warm stockings for the chil-
dren. Antoonje and Lys had four children. They
were early tucked in bed with warm coverlets
over them up to the tips of their noses, so that
they dreamed it was summer-time, and that they
were running races down the hot, dusty road.

"Noll is a silly!" said Antoonje.

"His children have no best frocks for Sunday,"
said Lys, scornfully. "I am glad we are so well
off, Antoonje, and that you are so clever."

Now the beggar trotted across the snow toward
the light gleaming in Noll's window. The wind
flapped his rags of garments, and whistled down
his collar, and played a tune in his long, loose
hair. Noll's house was a small one, not at all as
fine as Brother Antoonje's. The beggar went up
to the very front door and knocked. Noll stuck
his head out.

"Come in! come in! whoever you are!" roared
he, in his hearty voice. "Such a night to be out in !"

300

NOLL AND ANTOONJE

[Feb.

You might have thought the beggar was a real
prince in a velvet dress, so hospitable was Noll.

"Kaatje ! Kaatje !" he called, "bring in the hot
tea and a loaf of bread, for here 's a man who 's
been playing tag with Jack Frost \"

And pulling up the best chair to the fire, Noll
brushed the snow off the beggar's shoulders. In
bustled Kaatje with the tea and the loaf.

"Eat all you can," said Noll, "and warm your-
self without and within."

"Too bad we have n't a bit of cheese, is n't it,
Noll?" said Kaatje.

"You should have stopped at my brother's
house over yonder," said Noll. "He always has a
cheese as big as a house in the larder, with the
grandest smell to it."

Just then, the door opened a little, creaking on
its hinges.

"Ho! ho! who is this?" said the beggar, for
there was a little head in the crack.

"Dortchen ! Dortchen !" exclaimed Mother
Kaatje, with uplifted finger; "why are you not in
bed and asleep, along with your sister Franzje?"

"My toes are so cold, Mother," said Dortchen.
"I dreamed I was walking barefooted in the snow.
Franzje is not in bed, either !"

And she stepped into the room with Franzje
just behind her.

"Franzje! Franzje!" said her mother; "why
are you not in bed and asleep ? Your brother Piet
is a good boy."

"My ears are so cold, Mother," said Franzje.
"I dreamed the north wind was whispering to me,
and his words froze in my ears. And Piet is not
in bed, either !" And she crept up to the fire,
with Piet following.

"Piet! Piet!" said his mother; "why are you
not asleep? Little Jan is the best of you all, for
he sleeps till cockcrow."

"My nose is so cold, Mother," said Piet. "I
dreamed I was a snow man. And little Jan is not
in bed, either !"

"Oh, little Jan," said Mother Kaatje; "why are
you not sleeping?"

"My hands are so cold, Mother," said little Jan.
"I dreamed I had icicles as long as that on every
finger."

"What naughty children you are !" said Kaatje,
with her face all laughing wrinkles.

She let them curl up on the warm hearth, and
their eyes grew large and round as they watched
the beggar. It seemed as if they could not stop
looking at him. At last Piet said, "What makes
the bright light round your head?"

The beggar laughed. "The glow from the fire,
I suppose," he said. "It makes your own hair
shine like gold, Mr. Snow Man."

"And you have on gold shoes !" cried Dortchen.

"Your own toes are warm now, little Dort-
chen," said the beggar, "and you are now dream-
ing warm dreams instead of cold ones !"

"I thought you were a beggar," said Franzje,
breathlessly. "But you are wearing grand clothes
that shine like the rainbow ! How your cloak
rustles ! Like Aunt Lys's silk gown on Sundays !"

"What nonsense !" said the beggar, chuckling.
"I think you must move nearer to the fire, for you
are not yet awake. The north wind still whispers
in your ears, and pretends he is a silk cloak."

Then little Jan had something to say.

"I felt your cloak," said he, "when you were n't
looking: It is silk inside and velvet outside, like
the grand parlor curtains at my uncle's house
over yonder."

"Ho ! ho !" said the beggar. "How can a boy
with icicles on every finger-tip know the differ-
ence between silk and velvet, I 'd like to know !
Let us make more room for little Jan by the fire.
For his dream, like yours, is not yet over !"

" 'Sh, 'sh, 'sh !" said Mother Kaatje. "You
have all talked more than you should. And such
fancies ! No wonder you 're half awake !"

And, addressing the beggar, she said : "I would
not tell it to many, — but you, perhaps, are even
poorer than ourselves. The coverlets are so thin !
Poor children ! Wood is to be had for the cut-
ting, summer and winter, but blankets do not
grow on the trees. Pile on more logs, Noll. If
we are to keep warm, we must sit up all night by
the fire. What a night it is ! Do you not hear
the wind roar?"

"The children are asleep," 'said the beggar.
"What eyes they. have, for seeing what is not-
gold shoes and the like !"

"Yes, yes," said Kaatje. "Their nonsense keeps
us merry in spite of hard times."

Soon all was quiet, except for Noll snoring in his
chair. A log fell crumbling into coals and made
Kaatje start in her sleep. The children did not
stir, they were so warm and comfortable. Yes,
all were asleep — all except the beggar.

"What a pity it is," said he to himself, "that
men can't see the fairies— only little children now
and then, before the dust of the highways has got
into their eyes. I should like to know what Kaatje
thinks of the cut of this cloak, for instance.
She 's a woman of sense. She 'd know whether
rainbow silk would wear as well as plain rose-
color !"

He walked up and down the room in the dim
firelight, the fairy who, to most dull eyes, was
only a poor ragged beggar with a nose red from
the cold. His clothes glittered with fairy jewels,

I9T3-]

NOLL AND ANTOONJE

301

and his velvet cloak was lined
with rainbow silk, which rus-
tled ever so gently. And his
shoes were of gold, as Dort-
chen had said. He was as
busy as could be about some-
thing—lifting a chair-cushion here and a table-
cover there, and opening boxes and cupboards.

Then he settled himself down to nap in his
chair. How the wind roared down the chimney !
It stirred the fire, and blew a sprinkling of warm
ashes out upon the hearthstone.

"What good folk Noll and Kaatje are !" said
the beggar, looking at their kind, sleeping faces.

Then he curled his legs up under him, and
leaned his head upon his hand, and slept, like any-
body else, while the fire glowed warm and red.

door, Noll," said Kaatje. "It
would help to keep some of
the cold out."

"That is so," said Noll,
"though there 's little choice
between the best coat and the
worst, if the truth is told. But such as it is, you
are welcome to it, and God speed you !"

He helped the beggar into the coat, saying, "It
had been best for you had you stopped at Brother
Antoonje's house over there. He has warm great-
coats and to spare, Antoonje; a new one every
winter, and each one finer than the last."

So the beggar went away (at least Noll and
Kaatje thought he was a beggar). But the chil-
dren knew better.

"He is a fairy prince," said they to each other.

"SHE KNOCKED OVER A LITTLE VASE ANTOONJE HAD GIVEN HER.'

He had thought himself, just asleep when the
dawn came, and the cock crowed.

"I must be going on now," said he. "The sun
is shining, and the wind has died down."

But they would not let him go until he had
eaten a great bowl of porridge.

"Your clothes are none too warm, my man,"
said Noll.

"There is your other coat hanging behind the

Now Mother Kaatje said to herself: "The sun is
shining. I will take up the carpets and give them
a good beating. Then I will open all the win-
dows wide, and do a little scrubbing. It is a pity
to waste such a fine house-cleaning day." So she
began to bustle about, humming to herself.

Then something quite astonishing happened !
She lifted a cushion and found five gold coins un-
derneath it.

302

NOLL AND ANTOONJE

[Feb.,

"What 's this, Noll ?" she cried, for she could
hardly believe her eyes.

Here was enough to buy bread and cheese for
all the rest of the year.

Noll was quite as astonished as Kaatje was. He
went to the cupboard to get his tobacco jar. He
knew it was almost empty. He was saving what
was left for a special occasion. Truly this ivas
one ! He lifted the lid and stuck his hand in,
and his fingers touched gold coins. The tobacco
jar was filled up to the top with them.

"Kaatje ! Kaatje ! Luck has come to us !" cried
Noll.

"Oh, deary me !" said Kaatje, and she went to
the chest of drawers to get a clean handkerchief,
for she was near weeping.

And right on top of the clean clothes was a
pile of money too. At that, Kaatje sobbed aloud.
And in putting her handkerchief to her eyes, she
knocked over a little vase Antoonje had given her
on her wedding-day. Out of it rolled scores of
bright coins, falling upon the floor with a great
clatter.

Even Noll was frightened. His tongue became
so parched that he could hardly swallow. So he
bethought himself of a drink of water, and went
to the shelf to get a cup. The cups were all filled
with money, even little Jan's birthday mug !

"Why, we are richer than Antoonje !" cried
Kaatje.

"Ten times over !" said Noll.

"Just to think of it, Noll !" said Kaatje, wiping
her eyes.

"Are we dreaming, or is this real gold?" said
Noll. "Where did all this money come from ?"

"I 'm sure I don't know what to think," replied
Kaatje. "But let us call the children, Noll. They
will know whether or not we are awake."

When the children came in, they were amazed
to see their own mother sitting there with a lapful
of gold money.

"Is this real ?" cried she. "Are my eyes open
or shut? Pinch me, Dortchen, for I am afraid I
am still asleep."

"This is real money," said Piet, "and gold
money, too. Uncle Antoonje once let me hold a
gold coin in my hand, and it was just like this
one, with the picture of the king on it."

"Where did the money come from, Mother?"
said Dortchen. "And can we have new dresses?"

"The money was lying here and there about the
house," said Mother Kaatje. "New dresses— yes !
And shoes, too !"

"Why, we can get lots of things," said Franzje,
jumping up and down. "Dolls, and gold rings,
and tulip bulbs, and lace caps, and cheese, and
warm covers for our beds!"

"But however in the world this money came to
us, I cannot guess!" said Noll.

"I know, Father," said little Jan. "It was the
fairy prince !"

"What are you talking about, little Jan?" said
Kaatje, taking his fat round face between her
two hands. "Are you children dreaming, too,
after all ?"

"It 's the beggar man Jan means," said Franzje.
"If you had only looked, Mother ! Or listened !
It was a velvet cloak with a silk lining !"

"And such pretty gold shoes !" exclaimed Dort-
chen.

"And shiny hair !" said Piet.

Well, the fact of the matter was, the money was
there ; and it was real money which did not van-
ish overnight, either. Noll and Kaatje could not
stop wondering that such good fortune had come
to them, and all because they had warmed a poor
beggar by the fire on a cold night. Said Kaatje:
"To think that he was really a fairy !"

"To think of giving my second best coat to a
fairy prince !" exclaimed Noll. "Think of the
patches, Kaatje ! And bread without cheese, too !"

"T was little, Noll," said Kaatje, "but it was
the best we had, after all."

The next day, Kaatje put on her bonnet and
went into the town. She bought some of the
things she had longed for all her life, and pres-
ents for everybody all around.

And of course the news got to Brother An-
toonje, over in the great house, that Noll had
come upon prosperous days.

"He was always a silly !" said Antoonje to Lys.

But he put on his hat to go over and see where-
fore and whence Noll had got his good fortune.

So he knocked at Noll's door, and it was the
first time in many years. For Antoonje was n't
one to go hunting up poor relations, not he ! But
this was a different matter, when Brother Noll
had dropped a gold coin in the plate at church on
Sunday; and Kaatje was wearing a new cap with
real lace frills ; and the children in new frocks,
and shoes that squeaked all the way up the aisle.
This was worth looking into, thought Antoonje.

He came in and sat down by the fire, and said :
" 'T is a fine day, truly. We '11 soon be thinking
of crops— that is, if you 're at all interested in
crops, Brother Noll ! Perhaps you 're too rich
now to care whether the season is good or bad !"

And he drummed on the arm of the chair, and
waited to hear what Noll had to say.

"Oh, there 's plenty of use for money in this
world," said Noll, "if only to keep bread and
cheese in the pantry for the beggar who knocks
at your door."

I9I3-]

NOLI. AND ANTOONJE

503

"I always thought you
were a fool, Noll," said
Antoonje, cheerfully, "and
now I know it. Bread
and cheese, indeed ! There
was a beggar in my barn
last Monday night. I sped
him on his way with the
toe of my boot, that I
did !"

"What did he look like,
Antoonje?" said Noll.

"Oh, he was only a bun-
dle of rags," said An-
toonje, "and he had a
great lot of yellow hair,
which hung down to his
shoulders."

"Well, well," said Noll,
"I did n't know he called
at your house, too. You
turned away good luck
from your door that time,
Brother. For the gold

roast a fowl, Lys, and put
it away cold on the shelf."

And then he never said
another word all morning.

At noon he said : "Lys,
make up the bed in the
spare room. And mind
you put on the lace quilt
and the best feather pil-
lows."

And then he never said
another word all after-
noon.

At supper-time, he said :
"Get out my last winter's
coat, Lys, and give it a
good brushing."

Then he went to bed,
but not to sleep. He was
getting up all night and
popping his head out of
the window.

Once he said, "I thought
I heard the gate squeak

'ALL THE TIME, HE GLANCED ABOUT WITH HIS SMALL, KEEN EYES, SO THAT
HE SHOULD N'T MISS ANYTHING." (SEE PAGE 304.)

was real gold, and 't was he who left it at this
house. That beggar was a fairy prince, An-
toonje ! And we gave him bread, plain bread
without cheese, and my second best coat !"

"You don't say so !" said Antoonje, six times
over.

He was that crestfallen to think that he had
kicked out good luck at the toe of his boot !

He went home as glum as could be, and drove
the cat out-of-doors, and scolded the children, and
grumbled at the supper. And all because he en-
vied Noll his good fortune. He sat in the chim-
ney-corner that night and never said a word.
Lys knew better than to ask him what
he was thinking about, too. No, he
did n't say a word that night.

But the next morning, he said :
"Buy the best and biggest cheese in
the market— and a cake with white
frosting— and a jug of schnapps. And

on its hinges." And another time he said, "The
dogs barked. They always bark at beggars."

And the next time he said, "Was that a knock
at the door?"

And then it was morning.

Lys bustled about her tasks. But Antoonje sat
on the gate all day long, swinging his heels, and
looking up and down the road, as if there was
nothing else quite so important. Then, just as
Lys was setting the table for supper (with the
fine linen cloth, and the silver teaspoons, and the
china cups and saucers), the door opened, and in
walked Antoonje, arm in arm with a beggar !

"What have we for supper?" cried
Antoonje, jovially. "Bring in the
cold fowl, Lys, and the cheese, and
the frosted cake, and the schnapps."
Then he called little Willemin to
fetch his own warm slippers, and bade
the guest put them on.

304

NOLL AND ANTOONJE

[Feb.,

"What a shabby coat, man!" said Antoonje,
turning the beggar about.

And he sent Daughter Neltje running to the
clothes-press to bring out his Sunday suit for the
beggar to wear. Mother Lys was a little sur-
prised at that, I can tell you. But she was a wise
woman, and kept her own thoughts to herself.
As for the beggar, all he did was to grin behind
his hand.

So they sat down to supper, and it was an extra
good supper — what with the fine cheese and the
cold fowl and the frosted cake and the jug of
schnapps. Antoonje was n't doing things by
halves, either. He treated the beggar as if he
were a real prince.

It was, "Have this, sir," and, "Have that, sir,"
and every time Antoonje spoke, the sly beggar
grinned behind his hand. But all the same he ate
a good supper.

Afterward as they sat by the fire, Willemin
spoke up. Her eyes were as round as saucers.
"What makes you look like our cat, just when
she 's going to catch a mouse?"

"Go to bed, Willemin," said Antoonje, crossly.
"The very idea ! I can't think what 's come over
the child !"

"But you do look like one/' cried Neltje. "A
tiger-cat !"

"Not another word !" roared Antoonje, stamp-
ing his foot.

"I tell you what you look like," said Blaas,
jumping up. "You look like a pirate ! I should
n't wonder if you had a gun on you ! Tell me,
arc you a pirate?"

"Hold your tongue !" shouted Antoonje. "Off
with the whole pack of you !"

"Oh, he is n't a pirate, Father," said little Mies,
sticking his head in at the door. "He 's a robber,
for he does n't make any noise when he walks !"

At that, Antoonje leaped to his feet.

"Off to your beds !" he fairly screamed.

They were gone, scampering along the passage.
Antoonje wiped his forehead.

"I hope you '11 overlook this, sir," he said po-
litely. "What things children do say. Dear me !
I hope this has n't caused you too much annoy-
ance."

"Oh, no," said the beggar, grinning behind his
hand.

He stuck out his toes to the warm fire. He felt
warm, and comfortable, and happy. He liked be-
ing treated like a prince, I can tell you. He was
so contented that it made him sleepy, and he be-
gan to yawn great, wide yawns.

"Ah, bed 's the best place," said Antoonje.

He led the beggar off to the spare room, and lit
the candles and turned down the covers.

"Happy dreams, sir," said he, politely.

And then he, too, went to bed with great satis-
faction.

As he turned over and pulled the covers up to
his ears, he said to himself, "Noll is n't the only
one who invites good luck in at the front door !"

Then he went to sleep.

Now when all was quiet in the middle of the
night, the beggar jumped up (he had gone to bed
wearing Antoonje's best Sunday suit), and he
spread Lys's handsome lace quilt on the floor.
Then he went out to the kitchen as if he were
walking on eggs, and took the rest of the big
cheese and the frosted cake, and went back and
laid them down on the lace quilt.

Then he tiptoed into the parlor and had a look
around. He took a pair of silver candlesticks off
the table, and a branch of pink coral, and a gold
ink-pot, and the gold snuff-box which had be-
longed to Antoonje's grandfather. And back he
trotted and laid them down on the lace quilt.

Then he went to the sitting-room and took all
the fine silver teaspoons, and the linen table-
cloth, and the china cups and saucers. Then he
went to the cupboard and took Antoonje's to-
bacco jar and his best pipe ; and to the linen press,
where he took all of Lys's best handkerchiefs and
her lace cap. And these, too, he added to his
store.

All the time, he grinned and grinned, and
glanced about with his small, keen eyes, so that
he should n't miss anything. He did look like a
cat, as Willemin and Neltje had said, and he
moved quite as softly in his stocking-feet, right
into Antoonje's bedroom, where he took the gold
watch from under his pillow, and the big silver
ring off his finger, and all his savings in the left-
hand corner of the second bureau drawer. And
out of the top drawer, he took Lys's gold hoop
ear-rings and her big agate brooch.

"Now I '11 be moving along," said he.

So he drank all the cream off the top of the
milk, and buttoned Antoonje's best Sunday suit
over his chest, and took his fur-lined greatcoat
off the hook in the hall. And he put on his
wooden shoes again, and off he went across the
fields with the handsome lace quilt and all the
good things it contained in a bundle over his
shoulder.

Yes, he looked like a robber, and he was one,
too, as you know without being told.

When the cock crowed next morning, Antoonje
jumped out of bed. "Now we '11 see," said he,
"whether Brother Noll is the only fellow who
knows how to entertain a fairy prince !"

I9i J]

NOLL AND ANTOONJE

305

Then he felt under his pillow for his gold
watch to see the time of day. And of course the
watch was gone ! Then he missed his silver ring,
and his hair rose on his head, for he was smart
enough, was Antoonje, to see which way the
wind was blowing.

"Lys ! Lys !" called he, as he opened the sec-
ond bureau drawer, and turned all the clothes
topsyturvy. "Where are all my savings, Lys?"

(But he knew without being told where they
had gone.)

"And your ear-rings and agate brooch ?"

So they began to fly around the house and find
that one thing and another were gone.

"The silver candlesticks, Lys !"

"The frosted cake, Antoonje !"

"My tobacco jar, Lys !"

"My best handkerchiefs, Antoonje \"

"And my gold ink-pot !"

"And my lace cap !"

"The silver teaspoons !"

"And the cream for breakfast!"

They shouted about the house until they were
hoarse, for, truth to tell, there was n't much of
anything that had n't gone off bundled up in that
handsome lace quilt.

The children came to see what was the matter.

"There ! I said he was a cat," said Willemin.

"I said he was a tiger-cat !" said Neltje.

"I told you he was a pirate," cried Blaas.

"But I was right," said little Mies. "I knew he
was a robber !"

"I 've a mind to give every one of you a good
beating!" shouted Antoonje.

That was his way of taking things.

When Noll heard the news, he came over the
way and knocked at Antoonje's door.

"How do you do?" said he, when Lys opened it.

But all Lys said was, "My best table-cloth !"

"Well," said Noll, sitting down in a chair, "I
hear your beggar was n't a fairy prince, Brother
Antoonje."

"It 's all your fault !" said Antoonje, crossly.

"How so, Brother?"

"Oh, you know well enough."

Noll thought for a long time. Then he said
aloud what was in his mind.

"You asked that beggar in to sup and sleep not
so much because your heart was warm, but be-
cause you thought to profit by it, Antoonje !"

That was a blunt speech for Noll, to be sure.

"Maybe yes, and maybe no," said Antoonje.

But all the same he knew Noll was right.

"Hist ! What is that ?" said Noll.

"Only the children crying," said Antoonje.
"I 've promised them a good beating. I '11 give
them something to cry for!"

"Antoonje," said Noll, "why do you beat the
children when it 's only your own ill temper?
Look here ! I 've a bargain to strike with you.
Half my gold money if you '11 let them off with-
out a whipping. Don't you know they see what 's
what sometimes, and know a robber from a fairy
prince? As for the money, I 'm not used to hav-
ing so much lying about the house, and that 's the
truth. It clutters up things !"

"How silly you are, Noll!" said Antoonje. "I
always thought you were a fool. Now I know it !"

That was the way he had always talked to
Brother Noll. But, all the same, he accepted the
bargain and the gold money that went with it.

Noll went home as well pleased as could be,
because he was kind and generous, and knew that
it was more fun to go halves than to keep every-
thing for himself.

Vol. XL. — 39.

BIRDS OF THE YEAR

THE BLUEBIRD

(Spring)

When the snow is vanishing,
And the sun is banishing
Ice and snow, that held the earth in thrall,
Then, without one word of warning,
Early on some breezy morning,
We are wakened by the bluebird's call :
"Come along,
With a song !
Life and love together
Bring the light
Out of night,
And clear the cloudiest weather !"

THE BOBOLINK

(Summer)

When the sky is bluest blue,

And the clouds are whitest white,
And the meadows laugh anew,
With a wide-awake delight,
Comes bobolink a-lilting

The lovely ways along —
If e'er a leaf were wilting,
'T would brighten at his song.

Says bobolink, "Don't you think
There 's a kink
In the minds of any

Who can stay glum to-day ? Anyway,
Hope there are not many !"

BIRDS OF THE YEAR

307

BOB-WHITE

(Autumn) ■

When the days are growing shorter,
And the nights are growing chill,

And the green turns red and gold,
In the wood, and on the wold,
O'er the meadow, and the hill,
Then, to hearts for summer sad,
Sounds a message brave and glad :

"All 's light,
All 's bright,
All 's right,
Bob-white."

THE CHICKADEE

(Winter)

When the air is filled with snowing,
And the stormy winds are blowing,

And every flower has been hidden long,
There 's a merry little neighbor
Comes to cheer us in our labor

With a very merry, cheery, little song.
"Chickadee-dee!" says he;
"Never mind me !" says he ;
"Let it snow,
Let it blow to and fro,
For I know
With me 't will agree !" says he.
Minnie Leona Upton.

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

BY ARIADNE GILBERT

THE MATTERHORN OF MEN

In the corridor
of one of our
American high
schools, two great
pictures hang as
companions: that
craggy peak

among moun-
tains—the Mat-
terhorn ; that
craggy peak

among men —
Abraham Lin-
coln. The outline
of his life, better
known to young
Americans than
any other life,
need not be given
except as we remember that all things are new to
every one once, and that, to some, even the bare
facts of Lincoln's great life may be new.

Abraham Lincoln was never ashamed of the
log-cabin in the Kentucky woods where he was
born, on February 12, 1809; nor was he ashamed
of his famous coonskin cap with the tail hanging
down behind, his bare feet, his ill-fitting, home-
spun clothes, or the hard farm work to which he
was "raised." His home training helped him
more than school ; and that one-roomed Kentucky
cabin was a real home, for the young mother at
the head of it, fresh-faced and energetic, told her
children Bible stories and fairy stories, and all
she had ever learned in her narrow life.

Rock Spring Farm, as Lincoln said, "lay in a
valley surrounded by high hills and deep gorges."
Almost as soon as Lincoln was out of babyhood, he
began to help his father on their three fields, pick-
ing berries, carrying water or tools, and sturdily
plodding through the daily work. His strongest
memory of Rock Spring Farm was of one Satur-
day afternoon when he was sent to drop pumpkin-
seeds. "I dropped two seeds every other hill and
every other row," he said. "The next Sunday
morning, there came a big rain in the hills; it did
not rain a drop in the valley, but the water, com-
ing down through the gorges, washed ground,
pumpkin-seeds, and all clear off the field." It
was only a child's disappointment, but big for a

child, and one of
many that this
man must meet
as part of his
necessary train-
ing in hardihood.

Another kind
of training was
to come to him
in bearing his
father's shift-
lessness. Lincoln
honored and

loved his young
mother almost to
the point of wor-
ship, not only
through the first
nine years of
boyhood, when he had her teaching, companion-
ship, and steadying love, but to the last hour of his
life. His father he accepted as he would the
weather, or any other unpreventable fact. As
good-hearted as he was indolent, Mr. Thomas
Lincoln was one of those thriftless men who
blame circumstances for their own failures ; and
though, of course, he never knew it, he was a
problem in the household as long as he lived. In
his contented blindness he would say comfortably,
"If Abe don't fool away all his time on his books,
he may make something yet."

Moreover, being a true frontiersman, Mr. Lin-
coln always wanted to "move on." Accordingly,
when Abraham was seven years old, he took a
notion to move into Indiana, — a rough journey
by raft and on foot through unbroken wilderness,
and hard on his small family. They had to cut
their way through the forest with axes, and cross
the unbridged streams as best they could. Like
the Indians, who were their only fellows, and by
one of whom Abraham's grandfather had been
killed, they shot or fished for their breakfasts, or
gathered berries, like the robins and the bears.

Nevertheless, this journey offered young Abra-
ham more novelty than hardship. New birds
flashed and sang among the trees; new animals
scurried away to shadowed safety. But the new
home in the wilderness was poorer and rougher
than the old, and Lincoln's memory of his three

308

THE MATTERHORN OF MEN

309

years of life there was not happy. That other
one-roomed cabin, back in Kentucky, had, at
least, a door and a window. For a long time, this
Indiana one had neither ; it did not even have a
floor. Lincoln slept on a heap of dry leaves in a
kind of loft reached by a ladder of pegs driven
into the wall. The furniture was made of "rough
slabs of wood." Since the forest was rich in tur-
keys, wild ducks, and deer, and since the streams
fairly leaped with fish, it was easy to get meat ;
but there were never any vegetables except po-
tatoes ; and once, when Mr.
Lincoln asked a blessing over
a "mess" of these, his son
added, with more truth than
reverence, "They 're mighty
poor blessings."

The lack of petty comforts,
however, held no place in the
boy's heart beside the great
agony of his Indiana ex-
perience—the death of his
mother. Though Lincoln's
father could not read, and
knew no more of writing
than to struggle through his
own name, his mother fairly
yearned to enlarge her own
and her children's world of
thought. There was a satis-
fying sympathy between her
and Abraham which made
the boy feel as if life itself
was taken away with her life.
Indeed, the rude home was
darkened for all of them,
used to her steadfast light.
At first, Mr. Lincoln dragged
about, helplessly lonely; but
within a short time, in 1819,
when Abraham was ten years
old, he married Mrs. John-
ston, a widow with three chil-
dren. If she had been less
fine and strong and tender,
less, we might almost say, like
Lincoln's own mother, we can
imagine how painful her com-
ing might have been. But

chairs, one large clothes-chest, cooking utensils,
knives, forks, bedding, and other articles," all
novelties to her little stepson, but she had the
thrift and heart of a real home-maker. It was
easier for the boy to wield the ax and sickle,
thresh the wheat, or plow the tawny earth, when
his tired home-coming would be welcomed by her
smile.

Meanwhile, he went to school "by littles," as he
said. "In all, it did not amount to more than a
year." If, as is likely, he was looked on as the

she was a capable, warm-
hearted, understanding wo-
man, whose love answered
Abe's longing from the very beginning, and
lasted till the very end. "His mind and mine
— what little I had," she said, "seemed to run to-
gether." Mrs. Lincoln not only contributed to
the home "one bureau, one table, one set of

a copyrighted photograph by 1

YOUNG ABRAHAM LINCOLN READING A BORROWED BOOK
BY FIRELIGHT. (SEE PAGE 3IO.)

homeliest, gawkiest boy at school, he was also,
perhaps, the funniest and the warmest-hearted.
In his own plain story to the Hon. J. W. Fell, he
said nothing, of course, of his tremendous love of
reading, inherited from his mother, his rare ap-

310

MORE, THAN CONQUERORS

plication, his tenderness, or his honor, known at
last to all the world. Since "readin', writin', and
cipherin' to the rule of three" were the only re-
quirements of a teacher, he was mainly self-
taught.

A few fine books, well-known, like a few fine
friends, are worth more than many mere ac-
quaintances. The Bible, ^Esop's Fables, "Robin-
son Crusoe," and "Pilgrim's Progress" were Lin-
coln's real friends. He used to lie on the floor
and laugh over the "Arabian Nights." When his
stepmother saw that books meant a great deal
more to him than they did to any of her own
children, she took "particular care," as she said,
"not to disturb him till he quit of his own accord."
She honored his private bookcase between the
logs next his bed, and the big fires he used to
build to read by at night. She knew that he car-
ried a book out to the fields so that he could read
while his horse was resting, and often she would
find him copying out, with his turkey-buzzard pen
and brier-root ink, some favorite part to remem-
ber. "A boy like that deserves to have his
chance," she would say to herself.

With as much pride as if he had been her own,
she hugged the thought that, learning to spell by
the good old syllable method, he won in all the
village spelling-matches ; won, indeed, so regu-
larly that, at last, he was ruled out altogether.
And she delighted in the further knowledge that,
as Miss Tarbell puts it, he could "outlift, outwork,
and outwrestle" any one. In the little village, he
was the center of the husking-bees, and "rais-
ings," and all the rustic social life. While he
helped pare apples, shell corn, and crack nuts, he
would keep the whole crowd laughing at his funny
stories and practical jokes.

Abraham was a man now, a great, "lathy,
gangling" fellow, with, according to his Uncle
Dennis, "suthin' peculiarsome" about him. He
stood six feet four in his stocking feet, and was
a very giant for strength. "He could sink an ax
deeper into the wood than any man I ever saw,"
said one friend. "If you heard him fellin' trees
in a clearin'," said another, "you would say there
were three men at work by the way the trees
fell." To conquer the stubborn soil, to master
resisting timber, that was the task of his youth ;
and it was this conquering and mastering that
made the farmer's way majestic.

In Lincoln's mind, the important event of 1830
was not his twenty-first birthday, but another
move, this time to Illinois. And in this move the
important thing was not the long caravan journey
(three families of them, with all they owned,
leisurely jogging along in ox-wagons), but the
hard parting from all the old associations of his

youth, and, dearest of all, his mother's lonely
grave.

Filled as he was with crowding memories,
nevertheless he manfully grasped, as always, the
practical side of the journey. The road led on-
ward, and he must follow it with a forward look.
As a little boy he had taken no small share of
life's load ; as a man he must give the needed
help. Accordingly, he laid in a stock of knives,
forks, pins, needles, etc., and peddled them to the
farmers along the road.

That first year of acknowledged manhood was
marked, like many other years, by his turning his
hand to various things: now he was vigorously
splitting hundreds of rails to earn his brown jean
trousers; now tossing the scented hay; now, in a
dugout canoe, he fought the roaring spring cur-
rents ; now ran a flatboat down the Mississippi to
New Orleans. Arrived there, far from being fas-
cinated by the city life, the forest boy, who had
just come into a man's rights, reflectively turned
away.

The next year, when Lincoln returned from
New Orleans, he went on doing odd jobs; this
time in New Salem, Illinois. He got a position
as clerk at the polls because, when some one
asked if he could write, he said, "I can make a
few rabbit-tracks." For his own sake, he ground
away at grammar ; for money's sake, he surveyed,
or worked in a sawmill ; for the country's sake, at
twenty-three, he became captain, in the Black
Hawk War, of the company from Sangamon
County — quite an honor for so young a man. But
he did not rise without interruption. As he said,
he was "familiar with disappointments" and the
hurts of failure ; he had almost grown to expect
them. If he was gratified to be unanimously
elected captain just because of his "personal qual-
ities," that gratification was to be balanced by
failure in the election for the Illinois State As-
sembly. After this defeat, he settled down,
apparently, to keeping a grocery-store in New
Salem, later changing his occupation, first to post-
master, and then surveyor, and even thinking, for
a while, of using his immense strength as a black-
smith. Meanwhile, in his inner hopes, he was
looking forward to practising law, though the
longed-for profession seemed almost too far off
to gain. Still, as there had been time to read
while the horse rested from plowing, and to study
grammar when he was not surveying, so, when
there were no customers, there would be time for
law. He used to study for hours "stretched on
the counter with his head on a cracker box," or
sprawled under an oak-tree just outside the store,
and "grinding around with the shade."

He read for recreation too; for pure joy. En-

i*« -V\ V-v

<M W

Os?»r r. S (hmielT'

HE DID HIS OWN MARKETING, WITH A BASKET ON ONE ARM, AND A CHILD
PATTERING ALONG BESIDE HIM." (see page 313 )

312

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[Feb.,

deared by use, his meager stock of books fed him
more richly than whole libraries feed others.
Reading with mind and heart, so deeply did he
know the "Life of Washington" that it was part
of his own fiber. It is no wonder that he had a
lifelong love for the Bible, being, as he was,
moved by its literary beauty and sustained by its
spirit. And it is no wonder that he loved Burns
and Shakspere.

As for Burns, he and Lincoln were mates in
a great many ways : one born in a clay hut, the
otber in a log- cabin; one schooled in the Scotch
hills, the other in the forest and the prairies, —
those schools of trees, and starlight, and wide
spaces, teaching that men are brothers to the
creatures of the grass. Surely Lincoln and Burns
were kindred spirits in their tenderness, though
one was so much stronger than the other in moral
muscle. There was the Scotch plowman, sorry to
uproot the mountain daisy and scatter the field-
mouse's nest; sorry to scare the water-fowl from
the dimpling Loch ; heart-wounded when he saw
the wounded hare ; and waking at night in the
whirling snow-storm, thinking of the "ourie cattle
and silly sheep," and the "wee, helpless," cower-
ing birds. There was the Illinois woodsman with
his hundreds of unrecorded sympathies, for he
left no poems to tell them. No one will ever
know how often he scorned a chance to rob a
nest or bring down with his gun a feathered mate ;
or how often, instead of the thought of cruelty,
there fluttered over his rough face that look of
tender understanding which always came when
wood-creatures or men were at his mercy. The
boy Lincoln had argued, "An ant's life is as sweet
to it as ours to us," and, as his first incensed boy-
speeches had been against cruelty to animals,
now, as a man, he would stop to hunt up a nest
from which two young birds had fallen because
he could not have slept otherwise ; or pull a pig
out of the mud "to take the pain out of his own
mind." These stories are more important than
they seem, because they point to Lincoln's great-
est life-work, — the setting at liberty those that
were bound. Had the New Salem grocer never
felt, as he did, the little pains of little things, it
is hardly believable that he would have shared the
great pain with that immensity of suffering.

To go back, now, to his tradesman's prospects.
Before long, Lincoln and Berry's grocery-store
showed every sign of "winking out" ; no wonder,
when New Salem had only fifteen houses to three
grocery-stores. The position of postmaster of-
fered Lincoln more chance than this tottering
business, and, as he was a man who used what
was handiest, for a while he carried the mail from
door to door in his hat. With the same simplicity,

he stowed away what little money he had in an
old blue sock; used a "long, straight grape-vine"
for surveying because he could not "afford to buy
a chain" ; and, after he became a lawyer, wrote
a deed with a tree-stump for his seat and an old
shingle for his desk.

On the surface, the man who follows many
trades seems to lead a drifting life; but Lincoln's
use of spare moments proves that he never
drifted. Though he found time to help people in
hundreds of little ways, to chop a neighbor's
wood, lift a mud-locked wheel, or rock a baby in
its home-made cradle, he left time to educate him-
self in the hours which other men would have
wasted. He never lost sight of his purpose.

It might be called an accident, and would com-
monly be called luck, that he who had thought of
being a blacksmith should be, instead, a lawyer,
because one day, while he was still a storekeeper,
he bought, for fifty cents, to help another man
out, a barrel of old books and papers, and found
at the bottom of the barrel Blackstone's Complete
Commentaries.

By speeches in the old log school-house, the
town "square," or the harvest fields, Lincoln be-
gan his political life. Clear-grained truth shone
in every word. Sometimes, seeing such a power-
ful speaker spring up, as it were, from nowhere,
the keen country people would question his pow-
ers as a man ; and then Lincoln would have to
prove those powers by lifting weights, or wres-
tling, or cradling the russet grain in a near-by
field.

In 1834, when he was twenty-five years old, he
was elected to the Illinois legislature, and he was
reelected to the next assembly ; but he made no
particular mark. Life gave him, as yet, no prom-
ise of greatness.

To drop surveying for law, to give up a de-
pendable income for a doubtful one, this was a
hard decision for a poor man. However, in 1837,
when he was twenty-eight, Lincoln made this
decision ; and, to further his opportunities, moved
from New Salem to Springfield, where he had a
chance at a law partnership. His entrance into
Springfield was at once funny and pathetic. One
night, on a borrowed horse, he rode to Mr. Joshua
Speed's country store, and, coming in with his
clothes in two saddle-bags, asked the price of a
single bed, blankets, and sheets.

"Seventeen dollars," answered Speed, after a
few minutes' figuring.

"That 's cheap enough, I guess," said Lincoln,
"but it 's more than I can pay. If you could trust
me till Christmas, and I should succeed at law,
maybe I can pay you. But if I fail in this," he
added sadly, "I do not know that I can ever pay."

I9I3-]

THE MATTERHORN OF MEN

313

While he spoke, Speed had studied the care-
worn face and honest eyes. "I have a large room
with a double-bed which you are very welcome to
share with me," he said.

"Where is your room?"

"Up-stairs," and Speed pointed to a flight of
winding stairs that led from the store.

Lincoln took his saddle-bags and mounted.
Presently he came down, empty-handed, and with
a broad smile announced, "Well, Speed, I 'm
moved."

This was the beginning of a lasting friendship.
There was, perhaps, no man on earth in whom
Abraham Lincoln confided as he did in this un-
derstanding storekeeper who had helped him
when he was very far down.

In this humble way, with little hope and no con-
fidence, Lincoln began his twenty-four years of
life in Springfield. Slowly he worked up a prac-
tice and gained the trust of the people. Mean-
while, he was never free from a heavy financial
burden. The abandoned store had left him with
a big debt which he was determined to pay. Be-
sides this, being the man he was, he was bearing
other burdens than his own. Back in Coles
County, the "folks" were looking to him for help
and trusting to his prosperity.

In October, 1842, he married Miss Mary Todd.
Strangely enough, Stephen A. Douglas, from a
near-by town, Lincoln's future political rival, was,
for a time, his rival in love.

Lincoln, the lawyer, prospered; not that he be-
came suddenly rich— by his fellows he was
rebuked for "pauperizing the court"— but that his
clear brain and his integrity were recognized.
"For a man who was for a quarter of a century
both a lawyer and a politician, Mr. Lincoln was
the most honest man I ever knew," was one tes-
timony. "Some things that are legally right are
not morally right," was his motto. When one of
his clients asked him to secure six hundred dol-
lars, to which Lincoln thought he was not en-
titled, he answered coolly:

"You seem to be a sprightly, energetic man. I
would advise you to try your hand at making six
hundred dollars some other way."

Once, while he was collecting testimony for a
murder case, he blurted out to his associate :
"Swett, the man is guilty; you defend him; I
can't."

Perhaps the Armstrong murder trial is the best
known of all his cases. "Duff" Armstrong, son of
Jack and Hannah Armstrong of New Salem, and
a boy whom Lincoln had rocked in his cradle,
had got into a fight with Metzker, after which a
man named Norris had hit Metzker with a heavy
ox-yoke ; from this last blow, in three days, Metz-
Vol. XL. — 40.

ker died. The case was called, and Lincoln was
the counsel to defend his old friends' boy. The
most damaging testimony was given by a man
named Allen, who declared that he had seen Arm-
strong strike Metzker between ten and eleven
o'clock on the night of the row. By cross-ques-
tioning, Lincoln led Allen to go into details, and,
among other things, to say that he had seen the
fight by moonlight. This testimony sounded so
clear and certain that, for a long time, every one
in court believed Armstrong guilty. Then, when
Armstrong's outlook was most depressing, Lin-
coln took out an almanac and proved that, at the
time Allen had named, the moon, in its first quar-
ter, had set. As the jury passed out, he turned to
old Mrs. Armstrong, who was rocking back and
forth in an agony of fear, and said, "Aunt Han-
nah, your son will be free before sundown."
When the longed-for verdict, "Not guilty," had
been brought in, and Mrs. Armstrong, sobbing
with joy, asked the charge, Lincoln held out both
his hands to her in the old way, and said : "Why,
Hannah, I sha'n't charge you a cent— never.
Anything I can do for you I will do willingly and
without charges."

If we had followed this soft-hearted lawyer to
his white house with its green lawn and children's
voices, we should have found that he who had
cared for fallen birds, and rocked the neighbors'
babies, was the lovingest kind of a father. Little
fingers explored the roughly tender features and
patted the bristly black hair. No doubt he took
his turn at putting the children to bed. There
were three of them, all boys : Robert, William,
and Thomas. Little Edward had died in baby-
hood. The others, better known as Bob, Willie,
and Tad, will all come into this story.

On bright summer mornings, he used to draw
Bob up and down in a child's gig; and on cold
winter ones, wrapped in a huge gray shawl, he
did his own marketing, with a basket on one arm,
and a child on his shoulder, or else pattering
along beside him to keep up with his long strides.

The years rolled on, and, with them, pattering
feet gained poise. Robert Lincoln was fifteen,
Willie twelve, and Tad five in 1858, when their
father took his stand in the famous debates
against Stephen A. Douglas. The Democrats had
named "The Little Giant" (Douglas) for a sec-
ond term as United States Senator from Illinois;
the Republicans had chosen a new candidate,
Abraham Lincoln. And so, from August 21 to
October 15, the State of Illinois had the rare treat
of hearing these opposing candidates in the same
town on the same day ; and never were two speak-
ers more strikingly different : Douglas was "short
and compact," Lincoln "long and ungainly" ;

314

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[Feb.,

Douglas handsome, Lincoln homely and rough ;
one had a voice of wonderful richness, the other's
was very sharp; one had been a groceryman, the
other a school-teacher. When Douglas drove to
one of the debates in a coach with four white
horses, Lincoln followed along in a "prairie-
schooner." And when the two candidates spoke,
one had an air of promising assurance, while the
other, a good twelve inches taller, stoopingly
shambled forward, his long hands hanging out of
his too short sleeves, his knees a little uncertain.
How rustic he looked by comparison ! But blessed
be sincerity ! "I was born in Kentucky, raised in
Illinois just like the most of you," Lincoln cap-
tivatingly began, "and worked my way right along
by hard scratching." And presently, as he came
to set forth his principles, the fervor of his strong
heart straightened the lank body, and the homely
face was lighted to beauty by the depth of inner
earnestness and by the shadows and sparkles that
chased each other in those deep gray eyes.

He won another audience by humor: "My
friend, Mr. Douglas, made the startling announce-
ment to-day that the Whigs are all dead. If this
be so, fellow-citizens, you will now experience the
novelty of hearing a speech from a dead man.

"Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound."

Another time he began with a confidential twin-
kle, "Now I 'm going to stone Stephen!" (And
generally his stones hit.)

Such bits of fun, however, were only a small
part of those intensely serious debates. A short
time before this contest, Douglas had introduced
a bill to grant the people of Nebraska and Kansas
the right, if they chose, to have slaves. It was
this bill that had brought Lincoln from the "court-
room to the stump." By Douglas, this right to
establish or reject slavery was called "the sacred
right of self-government."

Years before, Lincoln had proved that he had
no prejudice against the southern people; he had
no prejudice now; and he had no prejudice to the
day of his death. "They are just what we would
be in their situation," he had said. "If slavery
did not now exist among them, they would not
introduce it. If it did now exist among us, we
should not instantly give it up. When southern
people tell us they are no more responsible for
the origin of slavery than we are, I acknowledge
the fact. It exists," he added, "and it is very
difficult to get rid of it." ... "I surely will not
blame them for not doing what I should not know
how to do, myself."

The key-note of Lincoln's argument, then, was
not the abandonment of slavery; he was not cop-
ing with this problem yet. It was, if slavery is a

bad thing, it ought not to spread. If it spreads to
the territories of Nebraska and Kansas, it will
spread farther still.

Packed in the stuffy room sat boys and farmers,
with mouths agape. "Old Abe 's got a clear way
of puttin' things," they said. "It 's hard to foller
Douglas."

Indeed, Lincoln's self-trained clearness, that
language of almost Bible-simplicity, was counting
with those country listeners.

"I felt so sorry for Lincoln while Douglas was
speaking," said one, "and then I felt so sorry for
Douglas when Lincoln answered."

"Lincoln 's a dangerous man, sir!" stamped an
old Democrat. "He makes you believe what he
says in spite of yourself."

Before long came that famous plea— the
"House Divided against Itself"— with all its dar-
ing outspokenness. "That foolish speech of yours
will kill you, Lincoln ; will defeat you in the con-
test," said one of his friends.

"Well, doctor," was the prompt reply, "if I had
to draw a pen across and erase my whole life from
existence, and I had one poor gift or choice left
as to which I should save from the wreck, /
should choose that speech and leave it to the
world unerased."

This was not indifference; Lincoln was eager
to be senator. But he forgot his own ambition in
his fervor for the cause. At the end of the de-
bate, he folded his hands wearily, as if he knew
he had already lost.

"My friends," he said, "it makes little differ-
ence, very little difference, whether Judge Doug-
las or myself is elected to the United States
Senate; but the great issue which we have sub-
mitted to you to-day is far above and beyond any
personal interests or the political fortunes of any
man. And, my friends, that issue will live, and
breathe, and burn, when the poor, feeble, stam-
mering tongues of Judge Douglas and myself are
silent in the grave."

The outcome of the debate was what might
have been expected : the cautious Douglas had
taken the safe course, and given his words one
interpretation in the south, another in the north ;
while Lincoln had uttered his belief with bold-
ness, in the clear truth that was rooted in his
heart. "Lincoln," as Mr. Francis F. Browne puts
it, "won a victory for his cause and for his party,
but not for himself." By a small majority, Doug-
las was reelected.

"Abe, how do you feel after the election?"
asked a friend.

"Like the boy that stubbed his toe. It hurt too
bad to laugh, and he was too big to cry."

But Lincoln's friends were less discouraged

I9I3-]

THE MATTERHORN OF MEN

315

than he. Even now they had set their hopes on
him for President. They had heard

The hisses change to cheers,

The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise.

They believed in him more than ever, and, two
years later, when he was nominated to the highest
office in the land, they were not surprised.

We need to imagine ourselves back there in
Springfield when the telegraph clicked out his
nomination. The whole town went mad with joy.
Amid roaring cheers, tooting horns, and a rush
of hand-shakes, Lincoln exclaimed: "Well, gen-
tlemen, there is a little woman at our house who
is probably more interested in this despatch than
I am." Then, with the crowd piling along beside
him, he hurried home. "Come right in, as many
as the house will hold," was his cordial invitation
as he reached his door.

"You '11 have a larger house in Washington,"
roared the crowd.

Up-stairs, two or three at a time, sprang Lin-
coln, and, the good news delivered, sprang down
again to talk with the eagerly waiting mob, till
little Tad squirmed his way to his father's side,
and, standing on tiptoe, whispered behind his
hand:

"Ma says come to supper."

"It 's plain this young man cannot be trusted
with secrets of state," laughed Lincoln, knowing
that the loud whisper had been heard. And so the
crowd, still cheering, moved away; the meal
schedule was sacred in Mrs. Lincoln's eyes.

Election followed nomination ; but when the
day came for good-by, Lincoln's fellow-citizens
were more sad than proud.

"Billy," he said to his law partner, taking Hern-
don's hand in both of his, "you and I have been
together more than twenty years, and have never
'passed a word.' Will you let my name stay on
the old sign till I come back from Washington?"
That simplicity was like him ! With proud affec-
tion Herndon left the sign.

From the car platform, in the pouring rain of
a February morning, Lincoln said good-by to
Springfield. A cold, drenched crowd thronged
the station for a last word. He paused for a
moment, and looked down on the mass of bobbing
umbrellas as if to take it all in, — the pelting rain,
the numbers, the love. Then, sharing their wet-
ness, hat in hand, he uttered that greatly tender
and almost prophetic farewell :

"My friends, to this place and the kindness of
these people, I owe everything. Here I have lived
a quarter of a century, and have passed from a
young to an old man. Here my children have
been born and one is buried. I now leave, not
knowing when or whether ever I may return,
with a task before me greater than that which
rested upon Washington. Without the assistance
of that Divine Being who ever attended him, I
cannot succeed. With that assistance, I cannot
fail. Trusting in Him who can go with me, and
remain with you, and be everywhere for good, let
us confidently hope that all will yet be well. To
His care commending you, as I hope in your pray-
ers you will commend me, I bid you an affec-
tionate farewell."

There was a long whistle, a puffing cloud of
black smoke, and the train slid away, taking with
it Springfield's greatest treasure for the nation's
need.

( To be concluded. )

■■--' — -'-■

jjl ipi^^^

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From

a photograph by the Evans Art Co., Elizabethtown,

Ky.

THE

LOG-CABIN IN WHICH ABRAHAM LINCOLN

WAS BORN.

a period when knights were as common as
days

(A pun that is somewhat rheumatic).
They pranced and cavorted on chestnuts and

grays,
On milk-white Arabians, and beautiful bays,

(Equestrian bays, not aquatic).
And foremost of all in the deeds of a knight,

Chivalric, dashing, and fearless,
Down-putting the wrong and up-setting the right,

The paragon champion, the peerless,

And smiter of Saracen bones,

Was Sir Christopher Jenkinson Jones.

Now "Chris," as his intimates called him for short,

(If very familiar, "Chrissie"),
Considered the sportiest game of all sport
Was tackling wild monsters of every sort,

Which kept him most hustlingly busy ;
For dragons, and griffins, and hippogriffs grim,

Were thicker than flies in that region ;
They carried off people, fat, medium, and slim,
To forest, and mountain, and cavern-holes dim,

In numbers amounting to legion.
And roused by their captives' loud groans,
Was Sir Christopher Jenkinson Jones.

316

THE BALLAD OF SIR CHRISTOPHER J. JONES

317

One evening, when wearied with toils of the
chase—

An evening of bright hunter's moontime—
Our hero drew rein in a still, woodsy place,
Where fain would he rest him, and slumber
a space,

Having slain ninety monsters since noontime.
His chestnut he tied to a horse-chestnut tree,

(A natural bond of connection),
Then, having his armor-canned body pried free,
His limbs he outstretched, and with yawns, one,
two, three,

Set forward in Nodland's direction ;
And soon, in rich baritone tones,
Snored Sir Christopher Jenkinson Jones.

Not long had this snore been outbooming, before

An answering challenge came sounding ;
He sprang to his feet, as with oncoming roar,
A creature with blazing eyes down on him bore,

With terrible leaping and bounding !
No nightmare that ever climbed up on your bed

Could mate with this fearsome creation :
Of iron and brass was its big, bulgy head,
Its body was colored a fiery red,

Its feet pranced in rapid rotation.
(Prepare now your last mortal moans,
Bold Sir Christopher Jenkinson Jones.)

i^'rt^-

318

THE BALLAD OF SIR CHRISTOPHER J. JONES

[Feb.,

But Christopher moaned not one least little mite ;

He seized on his lance, tried and trusted,
And just as the beast at his head made a bite,
He punctured its paws, fore, hind, left, and right,

And both of its eye-lamps bangbusted !
Thus crippled, and blind, and exploding with rage,

Did the Automobilicus perish.
(The rest of the tale you have guessed, I '11

engage :
How the knight was so tired that he dreamed of
an age

When rubber-tired monsters would flourish.)
So leave we, where deeply he drones,
Brave Sir Christopher Jenkinson Jones.

(//'/

LOOKING AT THE STARS

BY GEORGE LAWRENCE PARKER

Ralph Waldo Emerson said in one of his wise
essays, "Hitch your wagon to a star" ; by which
he meant that sometimes the only way to make a
thing go is to tie it on to something above it.
"Hitching our wagon to a star," means that our
lives often run slowly or come to a dead stop,
unless we find something above us to lift them
upward. It is this that we need when we feel
discouraged.

In olden days, the study of the stars was very
common, and for a long time they were the only
lights that people had at night. But to-day we
have so many other lights after dark, that the
poor stars are neglected and forgotten.

What I want to do in our talk together is to
see if we are not mistaken in our heedlessness
about the stars. As important as the North Star

is to sailors are some of those which I have now
in mind.

One of the first stars is ambition. "Oh," some
one will say, "if a boy is ambitious, he may want
to get ahead in school or athletics by some wrong
means." Certainly, that is true. But in that case
his ambition is not a star. A real ambition never
guides us slantwise, or crooked, but straight
ahead. It will not let us win our way unless we
win it fairly. One of the saddest things to say
about a person is, "He has lost his ambition."
That means that his sky is dark, his head is down,
and he does not see the stars above him.

I cannot now stop to name all the noble am-
bitions that we may have. Yet for each of us
there ought to be some one ambition greater than
all the others, so that we can use it as the sailor

I9I3-]

LOOKING AT THE STARS

319

uses the North Star. He may see all the stars,
but only one guides him. If we let one splen-
did ambition take hold of us, it will direct us. An
ambition does not mean merely getting ahead of
some one else. It means that we seek to do one
thing and to do it well. Then we learn its secrets.
It opens out to us not only its own heart, but the
heart of the whole world.

Put in your sky this star of ambition. It will
always tell you that there is something for you to
do and to be.

Another star is purpose. This is not the same
as ambition, but it is a strong star. I may have
an ambition without having purpose. I may want
to learn a great deal, but forget to ask what I
hope to do with my knowledge. An ambitious
person who has no purpose will find that his one
star means very little. If I have purpose, my am-
bition has another star to keep company with it.
I may sometimes see that I cannot fulfil my ambi-
tion, but I need never give up my purpose. For
instance, I know a man of great ability whose
ambition was to be a physician. But his real pur-
pose was to help people. It happened that this
friend had great misfortune, and was never able
to study medicine. You might say he had to give
up his star of ambition. Yes, but he never gave
up his purpose to help people. And to-day he
does more good than almost any man I know. He
finds poor children who need medical care, and he
sees that they get it. We can all hitch our wagon
to that star of purpose, for it is not out of the
reach of any of us. If you have an ambition, be
sure you ask what purpose lies behind it.

Now I see another great star. It is hope.
"Oh," you say, "young people do not need to hear
about hope. They have plenty of it." Well, I
wonder if they have? And even if that is so,
hope is a very easy thing to lose. It is really a
very strange star; but a star, nevertheless. How
often we fall back on the phrase, "I hope so."
Hope is meant to help us over the present mo-
ment of doubt and discouragement. We need
it after success just as truly as we need it
after defeat. A great victory may rob us of
hope just as much as a failure. Hope is a little
star that shines in front of ambition and above
purpose. Its light comes and goes. When we
are very busy, we do not need it so much, but
when we sit down to ask just what it is that we
are busy about, hope comes out and says, "Here
I am ; this is the reason you are busy." It would
be almost better to give up both ambition and
purpose than to give up hope. We have all heard
the old saying, "While there 's life, there 's hope."

That does not refer to sick people. It means that
any one who is truly alive keeps on hoping. Hope
is the everlasting sense that we are coming out
somewhere. Hope tells us that our self-improve-
ments, the great world, all the labor of men and
women, that all of this has actual value.

Set the star of hope in your sky. Have great
hope of yourself and of the people around you.
Put hope in your work, in your study, in your
present, and in your future.

Now just one more star. And that is— wonder.
But what a strange star, wonder ! And yet you
know when people stop wondering, it will be a
still stranger world that we live in. We go to
school to learn things, but we go still more to in-
crease our wonder. The great scientist Agassiz
could wonder for days over some little stone
which I would perhaps just look at and say, "Oh,
it 's only a pebble." He knew so much about
stones that every common rock was full of won-
der for him. The more we know of our life and
our world, the more wonderful they are. It is only
the wise person who knows how to wonder, and
only the ignorant person who gives up wondering.
This star of wonder is sometimes called imagina-
tion, but the name we give it matters little. Mil-
ton had a great capacity for wonder, and Shaks-
pere; and all the men who have said or done
wonderful things. They saw so much in the sim-
ple, common things that they refused to call them
simple and common. What I mean by this is that
the world is very old and dull and uninteresting
to some people, not because it is really so, but be-
cause they have called it so. They have forgot-
ten to wonder. They have put out one of the
brightest stars in their whole sky. Be sure to
look for this star. Wonder tells us that this is
a very marvelous world to all who will set them-
selves to learn about it; a wonder-full world is
the only right way to describe it. Wonder will
give us more than money can ever buy for us.
Wordsworth could say,

To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

Wonder told him that. It kept any flower from
being commonplace.

Now do you see what I mean by looking at the
stars? Does n't the wagon get lifted out of -the
ruts when we hitch it to a star? Don't let the
stars go out ! Nor let the other lights make you
forget them.

Ambition, purpose, hope, wonder ! All of these
and many others are still shining. Follow the
stars !

ill ££

The 0 utor %ec F.

Pauline and Priscilla Allen stood on the dock
and watched the little steamer, crowded with
merry excursionists, as it swung about and puffed
away across the turquoise waters of the harbor,
leaving behind a wake of pink-tinted foam.

"It 's a shame !" Priscilla declared.

"It 's cruel !" Pauline cried, stamping her foot.

Priscilla, her hands deep in the pockets of her
white serge jacket, continued to peer from under
her drooping Panama hat after the fast receding
boat.

"It 's too bad Uncle Billy planned to go fishing
on this particular morning," she said.

"Of course that could n't be helped, but it was
perfectly absurd of Aunt Elizabeth to say we
could n't go on the reef excursion without him.
As if we could n't take care of ourselves !
What 's the good of being fifteen, I should like
to know?"

"Oh, Paul, I should n't have liked going alone."

"Then you 're a goose, Priss Allen !"

Priscilla flushed a little, but she answered,
good-naturedly, "Well, there 's no use in staying
here. Let 's go back to the hotel. Aunt Elizabeth
said we might hire a donkey-cart, and we shall
have just time for a drive to the lily fields before
luncheon."

"It 's too hot to poke around behind a donkey.
I 'm dying to get out on that lovely, purple-blue,
greeny-pink water. And I do so long to see the
sea-gardens ! I don't understand how you can
take it so quietly, Prissy. There may not be an-
other day calm enough for the trip while we 're in
Bermuda. They said at the hotel this morning
that such perfect weather is almost always fol-
lowed by a bad storm."

"I know, but perhaps it won't come for a day
or two. Surely there 's no sign of it yet. Come
along now ! We '11 have a drive, and you know
there is to be a band-concert in the park this
afternoon."

Pauline turned reluctantly away from the
gleaming harbor and, with a gloomy face, fol-
lowed her twin across the square. But it is really
very difficult to be melancholy on a golden Ber-
muda morning, with the sky blue overhead, the
sea-winds blowing softly, and jolly brown pic-
caninnies peeping at one around every corner.
Once in the shady street leading up through the
fascinating town of Hamilton, the girls forgot
their disappointment. They strolled slowly along,
pausing now and then to look into the tempting
window of a little shop, or to admire the riotous
bloom in a garden. By the time they entered the
hotel grounds, they were chattering as gaily as
usual. In the winding path, which climbed
through luxuriant shrubbery to the great build-
ing, they came face to face with a tall, merry-
eyed, freckled boy of sixteen, who paused in
surprise.

"I thought you two headed for the reef steamer
a half an hour ago," he said. "Did n't she go out-
after all?"

"Yes, she 's gone. We went down to see her
start," Priscilla explained. "We wanted dread-
fully to go out to the reef, but there was no one
to go with us to-day. Aunt Elizabeth hates the
water, and before the notice of the excursion
was posted in the hotel office, Uncle Billy had
promised to go fishing with some friends."

"And we do so want to see the sea-gardens !"
Pauline added, her face doleful again.

"Have n't you been there yet?" the boy asked.

"No. Every time the steamer has gone out,
something has happened. Don't you remember?
Once Aunt Elizabeth had a headache and needed
us, and another day Uncle Billy wanted to see a
cricket match."

"Oh, yes ! I remember now. Hard luck, is n't
it?"

"But Uncle Billy has promised faithfully to
take us to-morrow," put in Priscilla.

320

THE OUTER REEF

321

"Every one says there 's a storm coming to-
morrow," wailed Pauline.

"Don't you believe it. This fine weather often
holds for weeks."

"Oh, Foster Amory ! Does it really?"

The lad grinned cheerfully.

"Sure ! You can go to-morrow all right. Come
on now ! I '11 take you for a sail down the bay."

The Amory family, Boston neighbors of the
Aliens, visited Bermuda each winter, and, be-
cause of these annual sojourns, Foster was con-
sidered by the twins an authority concerning the
islands and the sunny waters about them. On
arriving in Hamilton for a month's stay, they
had found this old friend, already established
there, a great comfort. But for his companion-
ship they might, indeed, have been a bit lonely
sometimes, for Professor William Allen was often
occupied with his dignified friends, and pretty,
delicate Aunt Elizabeth, who had mothered the
two girls from their orphaned babyhood, seldom
left the hotel except in a' comfortable carriage.

Already, on several occasions, the two girls
had been passengers in Foster's stanch little
sloop, a gift from his father on his last birthday,
and christened The DreYimi. They had spent

at the seaside, had learned to swim well and to
manage a boat, their elders readily consented to
these excursions.

The sloop was always a tempting plaything,
but the beautiful Bermuda lilies were just now in
their glory, and Priscilla delighted in the acres of
snowy blossoms.

"We were planning to drive out to the lily
fields," she demurred.

"I 'd rather go sailing," Pauline declared de-
cisively. "You can do as you like, of course,
Prissy."

Priscilla yielded, as she usually did in any con-
test with her more determined twin.

"Oh, I 'd love a sail !" she said gaily. "I '11 run
right up and tell Aunt Elizabeth we 're going out
with Foster." And she scampered away.

The pair left behind sat down upon the grass
to wait.

Foster studied his companion critically.

"You twinlets," he suddenly burst out, "grow
to look more alike" every day. I could n't tell you
from Prissy just now, until I peeked under that
big Panama hat and saw your red hair. But you
're not one bit alike, really. Priss- is as placid as
Grassy Bay in a calm, while you 're — well, a good

THE DREAM PLUNGED ABOUT, EVERY NOW AND THEN CAREENING DANGEROUSLY. (SEE PAGE 323.

happy hours floating over the bright, mirror-like deal like the Gulf Stream between here and New

surface of Hamilton harbor with, now and then, York. I suppose a temper always goes with fiery

a swift dash out into the wider reaches of the locks."

bay. As all three young people, during summers "Foster Amory ! If you say another word
Vol. XL.— 41.

322

THE OUTER REEE

[Feb.,

about red hair and temper, I '11 not go one step
in your old boat, so there !"

"Oh, yes, you will !" Foster replied, with
equanimity. "It will be great on the water this
morning. Here comes the other 'sweet P' now.
All aboard \" and he sprang to his feet.

The turquoise harbor at the foot of the street
smiled enticingly, and a soft breeze stole up from
it, lifting the curls under Pauline's wide hat. She
ceased pouting, and quietly followed the others
down to the dock.

Once afloat in The Dream, her good nature re-
turned, and she joined merrily in the talk of yes-
terday's cricket match, the picnic to be held later
in the week on Saint David's Island, and the
lawn-fete soon to be given for the benefit of the
hospital.

As the sloop drifted lazily by the Princess
Hotel, Foster held up a wet forefinger.

"Wind 's changing," he remarked. "It 's breez-
ing up from the south."

"And that means a storm!" Pauline cried. "I
know it does. Oh, dear !"

Foster scanned the heavens intently.

"Guess it does," he admitted ; "but it 's a long
way off yet."

"I just know it will get here by to-morrow, and
then the reef steamer may not go out again while
we 're in Hamilton. We 're going home next
week." Pauline's face was flushed, and her blue
eyes were full of tears. "If I don't see the won-
derful sea-gardens, I shall be heartbroken."

Foster meditated.

"Of course," he said, "if there is a storm, the
steamer won't go out for several days. It 's al-
ways some time after a big blow before the water
calms down enough to make a visit to the gardens
worth while. I tell you what I '11 do," and his
face brightened, "I '11 take you to the reef to-day
in The Dream if you '11 go. There 's a jolly
breeze springing up."

Priscilla's eyes were wide with astonishment.

"But, Foster, have you ever sailed The Dream
so far?"

"Not quite, but I 've been out past the dockyard
often."

"But she seems so little."

"She 's bigger than the pilot-boats. Guess you
're scared, Priss."

"I 'm not," she flashed ; but Pauline interrupted.

"You 're a duck to think of it, Foster. Of
course we '11 go !" she said.

"But—" Priscilla hesitated, and Pauline again
interposed.

"It would be a shame to waste this lovely morn-
ing," she insisted. "Don't be a 'spoil-sport,'
Prissy."

Foster looked up approvingly.

"You 're a good fellow, Paul!" he said; and
Pauline flushed with pleasure.

Priscilla forced back the quick tears. She said
no more, and The Dream was soon flying before
the freshening breeze past Ireland Island and the
dockyard, and out toward the jagged coral reef
which closes around the Bermudas on every side,
leaving only narrow gateways, through which
incoming steamers steal cautiously, guided by
skilful negro pilots. The smooth, blue-green sur-
face of the bay was beginning to break into
rippling waves, tipped with pale pink ruffles.

"The steamer 's coming back," Foster informed
his companions.

She swept by their little craft, raising a wash
which lifted it high and dropped it again roughly.
In her wake trailed the glass-bottomed boats, into
which the excursionists were transferred for a
view of the sea-gardens. The negro musicians
on her deck twanged their banjos merrily; the
passengers, leaning over her rail, waved their
handkerchiefs. The young people felt a little
lonely after she had passed. Between them and
Hamilton town stretched several miles of shining
water ; before them lay the reef, beyond which
the Atlantic surf broke noisily, sending up great
cataracts of snowy foam.

Foster, with Pauline's assistance, lowered his
sails, and the sloop floated upon the quiet water
just within the reef.

"Now look down, twinnies !" he said.

The girls hung over the side, entranced. Far
down in the clear depths, white, branch-like
growths of coral waved back and forth, purple
sea-fans and rose-colored sea-anemones grew
side by side, and gaily tinted fishes, blue and sil-
ver, ruby and gold, flashed to and fro.

"Oh, it 's wonderful !" breathed Priscilla.

"Are n't you glad you came?" and Pauline
smiled into her twin's rapt face.

Minutes passed, a half-hour, an hour, and the
young occupants of the sloop were only roused
when the bright colors of the fairy world beneath
them suddenly faded.

Then they raised their eyes to find that black,
scudding clouds had rolled across the sun.
Crowding up from the southward was a heavy
bank of gray.

"Hi !" cried Foster. "See what 's coming !"

"The storm people have been talking about?"
Priscilla asked quietly.

"Looks like it. We 'd better be getting back to
Hamilton," and he caught up an oar. "I '11 scull
out into open water. You girls have the mainsail
ready to run up. Unless we hurry, we '11 have a
nasty time beating up the bay."

I9U-]

THE OUTER REEF

The sky grew darker and the water became dull
slate color. All the southern warmth was gone
from the air. Pauline and Priscilla shivered in
their light jackets.

"Now help me get the sail up, Paul," Foster

323

Look out !"

swamping, sailing before the wind
as another wave came aboard.

The lad stared stupidly.

"Don't lose your head," Priscilla ordered
sharply. "Let go that halyard ! Paul, come here

SHE WAS LIFTED UPON THE LONG, HEAVY SURGES OF THE OPEN OCEAN.

shouted above the rising wind. "And you, Prissy,
take the wheel and be ready to put her hard
over."

The gale increased every moment. The Dream,
even under a closely reefed sail, plunged about,
every now and then careening dangerously. But
she seemed to make little headway. At the end
of ten minutes, the dim outlines of Spanish Point
were as far away as ever. Pauline's face, to
which her auburn curls clung dejectedly, was
white. When a wave slapped over into her lap,
she began to cry wildly.

"We can't keep this up," Foster said at length,
turning to Priscilla, who still kept her place at
the wheel.

The girl gave him a swift glance.

"I know it," she answered calmly.

A fiercer blast struck the little boat.

"It 's getting worse every minute," she added.

"But what shall we do?" Foster looked about
helplessly. "If we let her drift, we '11 go on the
reef."

"We must get her about and run along the
north shore," his companion answered with de-
cision. "We sha'n't be in so much daneer of

and help me ! When I tell you, put the wheel over
hard! Now ! ! Keep it there ! Do you hear?"

There was one terrifying instant when the little
Dream buried her nose in the waves, and came
about. She trembled from stem to stern, and her
sail flapped madly. Then it filled, and she went
skimming in a wide circle back toward the reef.
On she raced, as if pursued by demons, and, in-
deed, all the wildness of a sudden, tropical storm
was upon her. The wind howled, and a soaking
rain began to fall. Leaving Priscilla to steer,
Pauline dropped down, sobbing bitterly.

"The rocks !" cried Foster. "We '11 go on
them, sure, Priss."

"I — think — I can — keep her— in the— channel,"
gasped Priscilla, struggling with the wheel. The
girl's hat was gone, and her mass of fair hair had
escaped from its blue ribbons, and was blowing
about her flushed face. Her eyes, dark with ex-
citement, were upon the tossing waves ahead of
The Dream.

Here and there the gray water showed dusky
patches where hidden shoals approached the sur-
face. Once the boat's keel grated upon the tooth
of a submerged reef, but only for a moment was

324

THE OUTER REEF

[Feb.,

her flight checked. On she sped, always keeping
to the tortuous channel between the hungry rocks,
and at last a clear passage opened before her,
and she was lifted upon the long, heavy surges of
the open ocean. On the right lay the northern
coast of Bermuda, on the left leagues of angry
sea spread away toward the shores of North
America.

"Oh, we '11 be drowned ! We '11 be drowned !"
wailed Pauline; but Priscilla's face had lost its
look of keen anxiety.

"I think we 're all right now," she sighed.

"All right ! Prissy Allen ! What do you mean ?
Do you like being way out here on the Atlantic in
a teeny sail-boat?" And Pauline lifted stream-
ing eyes. "In a storm, too?"

"Don't cry, dear," her twin comforted. "We 're
really quite safe. You see, we can lower the sail
now, and drift without being in danger of going
on the reef."

"But we '11 be carried out to sea!" complained
Foster, his lips still pale.

"The Bermudian is due to-day, and we 're right
in her course. She ought to pick us up soon.
Take the wheel, Foster, please. My arms ache."

"You 're a wonder, Priss !" Foster declared
fervently, as he sprang to her side.

However, it was several long hours before the
drenched and exhausted young people descried,
in the north, a small object, showing black
against the gray of sky and sea. The black dot
grew gradually larger, until it resolved itself into
a great, looming hull, topped by two huge smoke-
stacks. Darkness was now falling fast, and
Pauline began to shed tears afresh.

"Oh, they '11 never see us ! They '11 pass us !"
she wept.

Foster had collected his scattered senses, and
was watching the ship closely.

"She won't pass us," he assured Pauline.
"She 's on the lookout for her pilot. There 's her
search-light now."

Upon the pale young faces the light glared for
a moment and then faded, but The Bermudian
came steadily on, looking, as she drew nearer, like
a brightly illuminated castle afloat upon the
stormy ocean. Again the search-light flared out.
Foster stood up and waved an oar, and, an instant
later, the ship changed her course and bore
straight down upon the sloop.

"They see us !" cried Pauline.

"They see us ! Hurrah !" echoed Foster.

Priscilla was sobbing softly.

It was not long before the big steamer was
slowing down within hailing distance, and her
crew lost no time in rescuing the occupants of the
small boat from their cramped quarters. Sturdy

sailors, directed by the captain himself, bore the
three young mariners up the swaying rope ladder
to the deck of the liner, whence they were hur-
ried down to warm state-rooms, given hot drinks,
and tucked snugly into comfortable berths.

"The pilot-boat has taken your boat in tow," a
sympathetic stewardess informed the twins. "And
the captain 's sent a wireless to Hamilton to tell
your people you 're safe."

When The Bermudian docked at Hamilton at
seven o'clock, it was still storming wildly. All
night the wind shrieked and screamed, and the
Bermudas were swept by rain and the salt spume
of the sea ; but, with the coming of day, the sun
shone out brilliantly, and the fairy islands of the
Atlantic were more enchanting than ever.

"Your aunt was late in falling asleep after her
day of anxiety," Professor Allen said, as he
joined his nieces on the hotel veranda after
breakfast. "I think she will rest until luncheon-
time. What do you say to a drive this morning,
children ? You too, Foster," he added, as that
youth hesitated awkwardly beside them.

The quartet were soon in a carriage, rolling
by Victoria Park, where the grass was like velvet
and the foliage of palms and oleanders vividly
green, through sleepy Cedar Avenue, and out
upon the smooth north-shore road. On one side
were gardens, ablaze with gorgeous flowers, on
the other the sea smiled and dimpled in the sun-
light, shading from pale green near the shore to
deep purple where, far out toward the horizon,
the reef showed its cruel teeth.

Pauline, gazing upon that distant black line of
rock, shivered, and slipped her little hand into
her uncle's big, comforting one.

"Oh, it 's so beautiful to be alive !" she said.
"And just think of —yesterday ! You know it
was all my fault, Uncle Billy, going to the reef,
and getting almost drowned, and everything ! I
was selfish and horrid, and urged the others on."

"Oh, no !" cried Foster. "It was n't your fault
at all, Pauline ! It was mine. Father says I
should have known better than to venture so far
in The Dream with a southeast gale rising. He
says I was criminally careless, and don't deserve
to own a boat. Of course he 's right, and I know
you '11 never trust the twins with me again, Pro-
fessor Allen."

"I certainly credited you with more discretion,
my lad," Uncle Billy replied; but the manly con-
fession had pleased him, and the eyes which he
turned upon Foster's honest, freckled coun-
tenance were kindly. "However, I am sure you
will not err in the same way again."

"You can just bet I won't !" Foster declared

I9I3-]

THE OUTER REEF

325

sincerely, if inelegantly, with a grateful glance
into Professor Allen's face.

Priscilla sat up straight. Her eyes were bright.

"I was just as much to blame as any one," she
announced.

"Why, Prissy ! You did n't want to go at all.

should have seen her steer The Dream around
that reef. She was splendid !"

"I 'm sure of it, and I 'm very proud of her,"
said Uncle Billy. "But Prissy means, and she is
right, that a higher courage is required to meet
ridicule than to face stormy winds and waves."

"UPON THE PALE YOUNG FACES THE LIGHT GLARED FOR A MOMENT.

You only consented because Foster said you were
afraid and I called you a spoil-sport."

Pauline was staring at her twin in amazement.
And Priscilla went on :

"That 's just it ! I need n't have gone because
of that. I was a coward !"

"A coward !" Foster exploded. "Why, Priss, if
you were n't the bravest girl in the world, we—
we should n't be here now. Professor Allen, you

"Dear Uncle Billy," she whispered, "I 'm never
again going to mind being laughed at."

"And I," Pauline said earnestly, "mean to learn
to give up to others. I 've been hateful !"

"It 's a fine thing," their uncle commented,
looking out across the brightly tinted waters, "to
find the dangerous reefs in one's character. If
they are once charted, it is far easier to keep
clear of them, you know."

Miss Viola Gwendolyn Gladys

Von Schatz
Had boxes and boxes of beautiful bats,
Trimmed with ribbons, and laces, and

buckles, and feathers,
For all sorts of places, and all sorts of weathers.
There were jet hats, and lace hats, and velvets,

and straws,
There were hats made of beaver, and bats made

of gauze ;
There were sailors, and beehives, and turbans,

and toques,
There were gipsies, and Gainsboroughs, mush-
rooms, and pokes,
With feathers upstanding, and feathers hung

down,
With flowers on the brim, and with flowers on the

crown.
Yet, what do you think? Miss Von Schatz would

declare,
In petulant tones, she had no hat to wear !
She tried on a blue one, then tossed it aside,
Exclaiming, "That brim is six inches too wide !"
326

..--•""

FINE FEATHERS

327

Then an emerald green she decided to try,
But threw it off, pouting, "That crown is too

high I"
The brown was too dark, and the pink was too

light ;
The purple too dull, and the scarlet too bright.
The white one had no style at all, she declared;
And the black cavalier had its brim too much

flared.
She tried on a lovely "crushed strawberry" straw,
But flung it off hastily, crying, "Oh, pshaw !
Those trimmings don't suit me ! Those shapes

are not right !
I won't wear a hat that just makes me a fright !"
She tossed the hats angrily up on a shelf; —
But / think the faults were all due to herself.
Her hats were becoming, both narrow and shady,
But her temper was quite unbecoming a lady.
The hats fitted finely, both large ones and small ;
But her comment on them was not fitting at all.
And to judge by the unpleasant things that she

said,
The trouble was inside, not outside, her head.

THE CONDUCT OF THE CONDUCTOR

OR, THE PLACE WHERE THINGS WENT
THAT ANNOYED HER

BY ELIZABETH C. WEBB

Once there was a conductor whose conduct was
perfectly frightful. He never stopped the car to
let people on, and he never stopped the car to let

" WILLIAM AUGUSTUS HEARD A BANG, AND
FELT HIMSELF DISAPPEAR!"

people get off; he was the crossest, crabbedest, ill—
temperedest conductor there ever was. The com-
pany that he worked for was not fond of him,
and the company that rode in the car was not
fond of him, and he was n't fond of himself, so
he kept on getting crosser and crosser every day.
Consequently, everybody heaved a sigh of relief
when, one morning, he dis-
appeared right off the back
platform of the car. The car
was going at full speed, too,
and he had n't been spilled
overboard either.

It was like this : the car
was tearing down the street,
and the motorman was clang-
ing his bell to make all the
grocery wagons get off the
track, because the conductor
would never allow him to
slow down, when he saw,

standing on the street corner, an old woman with
a steeple-crown hat, and a queer old-fashioned
dress, and a big basket, and a big green umbrella,
which she waved at him as a signal to stop.

Now the motorman would have liked to stop,
but he was afraid of the conductor, ... St) he just
turned his head the* other way, and. pretended
that he did n't see. Then the- old .woman waved
her umbrella at the conductor, and he did n't .even
pretend not to see. At this the old woman got
very angry, and pronounced some strange, weird,
wild words. And immediately there was a bang !
And the conductor disappeared.

And all the people in the car said, "Ouf-f !" and
stretched themselves out and wondered where the
conductor went, and hoped he was n't coming
back. And the biggest man in the car said he 'd
be conductor for the rest of the trip, and every-
body was pleased.

Everybody was pleased, that is, except just one
small boy. His name was William Augustus, and
he had been riding in the car at the time of the
sudden and mysterious disappearance of the con-
ductor. And when he heard the conductor disap-
pear, he was filled with consternation, confusion,
indignation, and seventeen other emotions, which
at once crystallized into a purpose ; and when the
purpose was set, he asked the biggest man in the
car to please let him off, and ran back to where
the old woman had been standing.

She was still there, on the corner, and still
raging' round and shaking her umbrella in a fear-
ful, frightful temper. But, nothing daunted, Wil-
liam Augustus strode up and took off his cap
politely.

"Good morning, madam," said he, "can you tell
me where that conductor went ? I particularly
wish to see him."

THE FIRST THING HE SAW WAS THE CONDUCTOR.

At the word "conductor" the old woman turned
around suddenly in the most fearful, frightful
temper you can imagine, and she shook her um-
brella at William Augustus, and cried : "Don't

THE PLACE WHERE THINGS WENT THAT ANNOYED HER

329

"Let 's walk around and see where we are," he
said, in a soothing manner. "What a strange
place this is ! And what a queer collection of
things there are around. Why, there 's a rocking-
chair, and a rug that 's turned up at the end, and
a footstool lying on its hack, and here 's an um-
brella"—picking it up— "but it does n't open very
easily. And there 's a door, just standing up by
itself. Let 's go and see 'where it leads." So
they walked to the door, but when they tried to
open it, they found that it stuck, and they had to
pull hard. And when it finally did fly open, there
was nothing but the same collection of odds and
ends on the other side.

"Well, this is a strange place !" said William
Augustus to the conductor. "Where do you sup-

pose we are

'THE WITCH S BLACK CAT CAME
FLYING THROUGH THE AIR."

you dare to talk to me about
that conductor!" And then
she said more strange, weird,
wild words, and William Au-
gustus heard a bang, and felt
himself disappear ! Now, if
you 've never felt yourself
disappear, you don't know
what a shock it gives you.
Poor William Augustus found
himself whisked through the
air at a tremendous rate,
until he landed somewhere,
suddenly. He sat up to get
his breath, wondering where
he was, and the first thing
he saw was the conductor,
also sitting up, and looking
much astonished.

"Hello !" said William Au-
gustus. "I wanted to ask
you—"

But at that, the conductor
jumped to his feet and began
raging around.

"Don't you talk about
asking me things after the
shock I 've had this morn-
ing !" he cried in such a ferocious tone that Wil-
liam Augustus thought it would be wiser to wait
until he was in a milder mood.
Vol. XL.— 42.

S JUST WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE THINGS UP HERE, EXPLAINED
THE LITTLE GIRL." (SEE PAGE 330.)

But before the conductor had time to suppose,
there was a bang, and the witch's black cat came
flying through the air and landed on its feet be-

330

THE CONDUCT OF THE CONDUCTOR

[Feb.,

side them. William Augustus and the conductor "That 's just what happened to all the things
were much surprised, but the cat was more sur- up here," explained the little girl; "that rug was
prised than either. Its tail was erect and turned up, and she tripped over it. That door

bristling, and its eyes were
like two moons.

"Well, well !" said the con-
ductor, "I wonder what will
arrive next?"

was stuck, and she could n't open it.
She stumbled over that stool, and lost
her temper because that umbrella
would n't go up. Things keep arriv-
ing all the time, and since I 've been
here, I 've lived mostly on burned
porridge that she gets annoyed with.
I never thought she would send her
cat here, but perhaps it got in her
way when she was cross. She gets
annoyed with so many things that

pretty soon the place will be

just cram full."

At this moment, there came

He spoke so pleasantly, that William Au-
gustus thought he might venture again to ask
his question. "I wanted to ask you—" he
began. But just at that moment, there came
a patter of footsteps, and around the corner
of the door peeped a little girl— a pretty lit-
tle girl with brown curls, wearing a pink dress
and a checked apron.

"Good morning," she said, "I heard you all
come."

"Oh, little girl !" said the conductor, "where are
we, and how can we get back again ?"

The little girl shook her head. "I can tell you
where you are," said she, "but I don't know how
you can get back again. This is the place where
things go that annoy her. She 's a very old and
very cross witch, and I used to live with her and
do all the housework, until one morning I burned
the porridge. Then she said some strange, weird,
wild words—"

"Why, that 's just what happened to us !" cried
the conductor and William Augustus both together.

"WILLIAM AUGUSTUS SEIZED
ONE HAND OF THE CON-
DUCTOR AND ONE HAND
OF THE LITTLE GIRL, SO
THAT THEY ALL WENT
OFF TOGETHER."

a bang louder than any of the bangs they had
heard before, and when they turned to see what
had arrived, they found before them the witch
herself! And she was looking (if possible)
crosser than when they saw her last.

"My goodness gracious me !" she- said. "I
never saw such a cross place as the world !
Everybody and everything are as cross as can be !
I 'd have sent the whole world up here, but there
was n't room. The only thing for me to do is to
send all the things that annoy me back to the
world, and stay here by myself !"

Then she got up, and said again the strange,
weird, wild words, and immediately the rocking-
chair went off with a bang, and the footstool went
off with a bang, and everything and everybody

1913] OR, THE PLACE WHERE THINGS WENT THAT ANNOYED HER

331

went off with bangs, till it sounded like the big-
gest Fourth of July you ever heard.

Now when William Augustus heard the witch's
idea, the first thing he did was to seize one hand
of the conductor and one hand of the little girl,
who was holding the cat in her other arm, so that
they all went off together, and landed together on
the sidewalk, just at the corner where the witch
had stood.

"Well !" said the conductor, as soon as he had
recovered his breath, "I see how uncomfortable
it is to have cross people around. I think some-
times in the past I have been a trifle hasty. I feel
as if I had, perhaps, been almost irritable with
the passengers, and I am resolved that in future
I '11 stop the car to let them on and off."

"Then," said William Augustus, rejoiced at
this softened frame of mind, "may I ask you a
question? I went all the way to the place where
things go that annoy her to ask you, but you
would n't listen to me."

"What is your question, my boy?" said the
conductor, cordially.

"It 's only this," said William Augustus, much
relieved, "will you please give me a transfer?"

"My dear boy," said the conductor, genially,
"take a transfer ! Take two transfers !" And he
pulled them out of his pocket and offered them to
William Augustus.

"Thank you," replied William Augustus, grate-
fully, "but I only need one."

Now it so happened that, at this moment, one
of the directors of the company was going by,
and he was so touched by the change in the con-
ductor's manner, that he raised his salary on the
spot, so that he was able to buy a little white
cottage with green blinds, and to adopt the little
girl, who did n't know to whom she belonged,
and the witch's black cat as well.

And from that time, he was a changed man,
and continued to grow so in the favor of his em-
ployers and the public that, when next Christmas
came, as a token of their appreciation, they pre-
sented him with a conductor's cash-register made
of solid gold, or, if it was n't, it looked like it ;
and so the directors, and the passengers, and the
conductor, of course, were perfectly satisfied and
contented ; and the passengers always smiled so-
ciably at one another whenever the conductor
used it to ring up a fare.

FLOSSY'S WAY

BY JOHN E. DOLSEN

Our little Flossy, through one term of school,
Observed, without a single break, the rule
Forbidding her to whisper.
'Oh," said she,

In speaking of it afterward to me,
'It seemed at first I never could succeed—
A whole long term ! It did look hard indeed.

But, when I came to think about it, I
Saw all I had to do was just to try
One minute at a time to keep on guard.
And after that it was n't very hard."

I think that Flossy's reasoning would be,
For all of us, a good philosophy.

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

(A sequel to " The Lucky Sixpence")

BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE

Chapter VII

ATOP THE GARDEN WALL

We went into the barn again after looking about
outside, satisfied that both Peg and I had but
imagined that we saw some one spying upon us,
and Bart sat down to count the notes.

"Two thousand four hundred pounds, I make
it," he said finally. "There 's more than enough
to buy my commission, and General Washington
will be right glad to have it."

"Nay, B-B-Bart," Peggy put in, "y-y-you gave
it all to B-B-Bee, you know you d-d-did !"

"Aye, that 's so," Bart admitted, all the joy
dropping out of his voice. "You have found your
fortune indeed, Bee. 'T is a lucky sixpence you
carry" ; and he would have given me the money,
but I pushed it away from me.

"What manner of maid think you I am, Bart?"
I cried indignantly. "Do you expect me to hold
you to a word spoken in jest? 'T is yours, of
course, and now you will have your commission."

"B-b-but with all that m-m-money, B-Bee," Peg
said soberly, "you c-c-could go b-back to England
and help your b-b-brothers."

"Aye, if the money were mine !" I answered,
"but it belongs to the cause. If Bart wants to
pleasure me more than I can say, he will let me
have enough to buy Mark Powell's time as a
bound boy from his master. That will not be
robbing the cause, for it will provide it with a
good soldier, I 'm sure."

' 'T is well thought of, Bee I" exclaimed Bart,
all smiles again; "there 's enough and to spare.
Now take it and put it in safety" ; and he placed
the bundle in my hands.

I folded the notes and wrapped them again in
the silvered paper, then, putting all inside the
parchment, I stowed the packet in my bodice.

We gathered the quilt together again and hid it
with the coffer in the hay, until we could make up
our minds how to explain our find to Mrs. Mum-
mer. This done, I went to the house with the
intention of putting the money in a safe place,
but, as I entered the door, I ran straight into Mrs.
Mummer.

"La, child !" she exclaimed at sight of me,
"what 's wrong? You look fair mazed !"

"There 's naught wrong," I answered, though
I understood well enough that my face was still
flushed with excitement, and was in two minds

whether or not to tell her all about it ; but, as the
secret was not mine alone, I held my tongue.

"Then," said Mrs. Mummer, a little crossly,
for she knew, I think, that I was hiding some-
thing from her, and liked it not, "then off to the
garden with you, and pick me some apricots for
conserves. If I send Clarinda, I am like to get
naught but mushy fruit, and, beside, I need her
to pound the loaf sugar. Pick them carefully,
Miss Bee, for the Denewood conserves require
the choicest fruits."

I should have liked well to rid myself of the
money in my bodice, but that would have made
necessary some explanation to Mrs. Mummer,
who was keen enough to scent a secret ; and so,
without further talk on the matter, I took up a
basket and ran to the garden, intent upon finish-
ing my task as quickly as possible.

The lower garden, or the "Old Garden," as we
sometimes called it, because it was planted years
and years ago, was set upon the crest of the far
hillside, so that it was warm and sunny at all
seasons. High brick walls had been built about it
in the English fashion, and on these were trained
our choicest grapes and wall-fruit. In the beds
grew Mrs. Mummer's stock of simples ; lavender,
dill, rosemary, sage, spearmint, and peppermint
all flourished there beside the fragrant stocks and
wallflowers. It was a most lovely place. The
scent of it brought back to me, as nothing else in
America did, my old home across the sea, and my
thoughts strayed to Granny and my two brothers.

A ladder stood against the wall beside the apri-
cot-tree, and I mounted it, only half thinking of
what I was doing, being lost in a dream of days
gone by. Half-way up, I stopped to eat an apri-
cot, so tempting and luscious did it look, and as I
took my first bite, I heard the door in the far wall
open and shut, quietly. I did not turn at once,
thinking it was one of the gardeners, or perhaps
Bart, but, hearing no further movement, an un-
easy feeling came over me, and I looked to see
who had come in.

Had I not had my teeth in the apricot, I should
have cried out as I recognized the tall, lank form
of Schmuck, with his son beside him, coming to-
ward me in a half-crouching attitude, as though
they stalked game. 'T was certain the Magus
had been watching us since we left him in the
woods, and his was the hand I had seen on the
barn door ! Doubtless he knew I had the money.

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

333

I was alone, so far from the house that calling
for help would be useless, and quite at the mercy
of a man who surely must be desperate to have
followed me like this.

As they crossed the garden, father and son
separated, thus cutting off any escape from the
opposite sides of the inclosure, and my heart
sank as I saw that I was trapped. I did not hide
from myself the fact that Schmuck was a dan-
gerous man, who was like to have little com-
punction as to how he gained his ends.

But, though I was frightened, it had never
been my way to stand helpless without making an
effort in my own behalf, and so, scarce reasoning
why I did it, I scurried up the ladder and stepped
on the top of the wall. There I saw I could not
well be reached if only I were able to drag the
ladder up after me, for the wall was all of twelve
feet high. I seized and tugged at it with all my
strength. At that, Schmuck, seeing what I was
about, gave a low cry, and started on a run to-
ward me, his son following suit ; and, though I
tugged my hardest, it was plain that I would fail
in my attempt ; for not only was the ladder heavy,
but the awkwardness of my position on the top of
the wall gave me but small standing-room for
handling so long an object.

I was quite sure that the Magus would reach
me ere I succeeded in my task, when, by great
good fortune, one of his huge feet caught in a
black-currant bush, and he fell flat.

His son stopped to raise him, and was well
rated for his pains.

"At her, you fool !" cried the Magus, seeming
not to care how much noise he made. "At her,
for, if she raise the ladder, how can we reach
her?"

At that, the lad came toward me with redoubled
speed, but I had been hard at work, dragging the
ladder up inch by inch. Just before he reached
me, it struck a balance, the lighter end rising
high off the ground as he leaped into the air to
catch it, like a dog after a bone. A moment later,
I swung it around and stood looking down, safe
for the time being at least, and not a little ex-
cited and proud that I had outwitted them.

The Magus, getting slowly to his feet now that
there was no necessity for haste, came toward me
rubbing his thin hands together, and smiling up at
me with a fine show of graciousness.

"The boy has turned into a young miss," he
said, in a winning, obsequious way, which
alarmed me more than his frank anger. "I hope
you do not think we meant to harm you?"

"Nay, I 'm sure of it," I replied, with as much
bravado as I could put into my voice.

"I 'm glad to hear you say so," he went on, still

rubbing his bony hands together and grinning up
at me. "It seemed to me you were somewhat
hasty in mounting the wall, as if, perchance, you
were afraid."

"Nay, I 'm not afraid," I returned promptly,
"and the garden makes a fine show from the top
of the wall."

"And the ladder atop insures a safe descent,"
he put in, with a little sneer which he tried to
hide.

"And also gives me leave to choose my com-
pany," I retorted. "But come," I continued, put-
ting on a bold front, "what are you here for?
Out with it, and let 's have done with this fool-
ing."

"I come but for my due," he answered civilly
enough. " 'T is only just that I have a fair share
of the treasure we found."

"A fair share !" I cried back at him ; "you
would have kept all the money, an you had had
your way. Had you been less eager for the
whole, you might have had a share."

"Nay, 't is not the money I want," he answered
sharply. "That you may keep for all of me.
Give me the map, and I shall not bother you
further."

"The map?" I echoed. "I have no map!"

"Nay, do not tell me a falsehood," he broke in
harshly, finding it difficult to keep to his friendly
role. " 'T was with the package, and that I saw
in your hands. Moreover, you still have it, for I
have been watching you every minute. Come,
give it up, and you will see the last of me."

"You are altogether mistaken," I told him.
"There was naught in the package save the
money, and that you shall not have."

"I tell you I don't want the money !" he fairly
screamed, losing all control of himself in a sec-
ond. "Keep the money, but the map I '11 have if
I 'm forced to drag it away from you."

He had thrown off all pretense now, and, as
he ended, he leaped up in an effort to scale the
wall, but he could not grasp the top, and dropped
back, fuming.

"Stay you here," he shouted at his son, "and
see that she does not escape ! I 'm going out-
side."

He started off to the gate, but 't was plain he
knew not the lay of the land, for outside of the
garden wall the ground fell away sharply, and
there was near twenty feet fall below me. Other-
wise I might have dropped down and so away to
safety before either man could catch me.

The Magus needed but a glance outside to show
him the uselessness of coming at me from there,
and he pushed through the gate again so furi-
ously that, feeling safe enough, I was ready to

334

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Feb.,

smile. But my elation was only momentary, for
the man had stopped at the gate and was regard-
ing it intently.

At once I saw what was in his mind. Here
was a possible means of gaining the top of the
wall. The door had a strong latch and stout
cross-bars, and was a good enough stairway for
an active man.

The Magus wasted no time, but ordered his son
to climb while he stood watch on me. The boy
demurred, but his father, furious by now at the
difficulties he was encountering when he thought
all would be swift and easy, cuffed him over the
head, and the lad ran off, whimpering, to do as
he was bidden.

Now, indeed, was my position perilous, and I
looked about me rather hopelessly for a chance
to escape. The Magus, noting my dismay, called
out to me.

"Give me the map, young miss, and you '11 see
the last of us I tell you !"

"But I have no map !" I made answer, stamp-
ing my foot with impatience and vexation.

Again the Magus broke out into a furious rage,
vowing to have what he searched for, come what
might, and threatening me with all sorts of bodily
hurts. The man was fairly beside himself, and
his anger was so high that I knew his threats
were not idle ones, and if I fell into his clutches,
I was likely to suffer.

As I looked about me for a means of escape, I
realized that there was none, and that my only
salvation was to keep the lad from gaining the
wall. This I prepared to do at any cost, and,
picking up my basket, I hurried along the broad
coping.

It was impossible for me to prevent the boy
from reaching the top of the gate, but while my
strength held out, I was determined to keep him
off when he tried to swing to the wall. Once
above him, I knelt, to make my position the more
secure, and arranged my only weapons, the basket
and two apricots, where I could reach them
easily.

The Magus had followed my course, and now
all three of us were at the gate.

"Up with you !" he cried to his son, who had
been making but ineffectual efforts to mount, and,
indeed, showed plainly that he liked not the busi-
ness. "Up with you, while I hold the gate !"

There was a menace in the man's voice that
nerved me to do my best.

I waited breathlessly while his son climbed
slowly up, and, as his head topped the gate, I let
fly one of my apricots with all the strength I
possessed, and was lucky enough to hit him
squarely in the eye.

' 'T was over-ripe for conserves," I cried,
laughing a little hysterically, as I saw the boy
with a wry face loosen his hold and drop to the
ground.

But he received scant consideration from his
father.

"Why have you let go?" shrieked Schmuck.
"Up with you again ! Art afraid of a hussy on
a wall?"

"Go up yourself," the lad muttered sulkily,
wiping his face free of the apricot pulp. "Per-
chance you 'd like an eye shut with soft fruit. I
doubt not she '11 knock me in the head next time."

"Aye !" I called down to him, and assuming a
courage I was far from feeling; "come up and
have it over with !"

"Nay, I '11 not come !" cried the lad.

"And I '11 lay my stick about your shoulders an
you stay here !" shouted his father. "Which
think you, dolt, can strike the shrewder blow ?"

Truly I found it in my heart at that moment to
be sorry for the lad, who, though he would have
left me in peace, was forced to be my enemy.

Up he started again, the Magus giving him a
boost, and I threw my last apricot— and missed !
I could not bring myself to hit his bare hand,
though, as I hesitated, he reached out and tried
to seize me. I drew back hastily, and at the same
moment, the Magus swung the gate in to the
wall, and his son, with a hitch upward, brought
his head and shoulders to a level with me. I
jumped to my feet with the intention of retreat-
ing along the wall, but, ere I started, I meant to
make one last effort ; so, picking up the basket, I
brought it down over the head of the boy, bonnet-
ing him.

With an effort to dodge the descending basket,
the lad leaned forward, and, in so doing, lost his
balance, and sprawled across the top of the gate,
with the basket hanging over his head and his
arms striking out wildly into the air like a swim-
mer's.

At the same moment, there came a shout, and,
to my great surprise and relief, I saw Brother
John running toward us at top speed, his drawn
sword clutched in his hand.

But I was not the only one who saw him. The
Magus, too, had looked about him, and, with the
snarl of a beaten dog, he whipped through the
gate and ran across the field to the wood beyond,
at an amazingly rapid rate.

The boy, however, still sprawled across the
gate when Brother John came up.

"Now what 's the meaning of this?" he cried
in a great voice; and, had I not stopped him,
would have dealt severely with the lad I doubt
not, for he saw that I had been in danger.

I9I3-]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

335

"What is the meaning of this?" he repeated;
"tell me !" and, reaching up, he grabbed the boy
by the leg and pulled him to the ground, none too
gently.

" T was the other who was at the bottom of
it," I hurried to tell him, for in truth Brother
John was much wrought up and in no mood for
trifling. "Do not harm him, brother. He would
not have hurt me, I am sure."

As if in answer to this, there came a long wail-
ing sort of groan from under the basket, which
still stuck to the boy's head, and so funny did it
sound, though withal so piteous, that we could
not help but laugh ; and that put an end to Brother
John's fierce anger.

"What does all this mean?" he asked again.
"But first come down from that wall before you
fall off and mayhap break your neck. How did
you get there and—"

"Nay, do not fret about me/' I interrupted,
"I '11 be with you in an instant." Running back
to the ladder, I slid it to the ground, and a minute
later, I was beside Brother John, who still stood
guard over the Magus's son.

"Let us go to the house," I said. "I have a
long tale to tell you."

Chapter VIII

THE MAGUS AND HIS MAP

A groan from under the basket reminded us that
there was another matter to decide before I could
tell my tale, and Brother John looked down at the
Magus's son with a smile. The basket still cov-
ered his head, and he lay flat on the ground, giv-
ing forth monstrous pitiful sounds of distress.
"Suppose we have a look at him/' John pro-

I posed. Leaning down, he tugged at the basket,
and, after some trouble, removed it, disclosing a
thin, red face much swollen from weeping.

Now that I saw the lad in a good light, the
resemblance to his father was striking, but he
did not have the evil countenance of his elder ;
moreover, I knew that his part had been forced
upon him, so that I was sorry for the boy. As
the basket came off his head, he rose to his knees
and held up his hands to me.

"Save me, miss; save me!" he begged in most
piteous tones. "I am sore afraid."

"He will not harm you," I answered, indicating
John, for I thought, of course, the reference was
to him.

" 'T is not the gentleman I mean," he pleaded,
"but my father. Save me from my father !"

Both John and I echoed the words in surprise,
and the boy hastened to explain.

"My father will half kill me for this day's

work. He grows worse daily, and since the
British came, he has stopped at nothing. A year
ago, he was honest enough, and, though I some-
times played the spook, in order to excuse his
failures when naught was found— as how should
there be, considering that he is but an ordinary
man— it was not as it was last night, when my
father meant to seize the treasure."

"But the wand moved," I broke in. "It bent
down to the ground and seemed a thing alive. Is
there no virtue in it?"

"Nay," answered the boy, " 't is done with the
palms of the hands. 'T is a trick that dozens
know. But 't was innocent enough, and some-
times they really did find water in the places he
made the wand point to. But of late he has been
mad to find the map he told you of. What 't is
about I know not. Some evil men in the British
army have urged him on, and he vows he will be
rich beyond his wildest dreams an he find that
for which he seeks. I pray you save me from
him. He is no longer the man he was."

"But what can I do with a lad like you?" ex-
claimed John, half amused and half perplexed.

"I would go for a soldier," cried the boy, still
blubbering; and though I was sorry for him, he
looked so absurdly unlike a fighter that I could
not help laughing.

"Nay, I am not afraid of bullets !" protested
the boy ; " 't is only my father and his calling that
make me tremble. I could make a soldier — or, if
not that, I could be your servant," he added, ap-
pealing directly to Brother John.

"What is your name?" asked John, in a more
kindly tone than he had yet used toward the boy.

"My father christened me Cagliostro," came the
hesitating answer; "but, please, sir, 't is such a
silly name that I 'd liefer be called Bill."

At this there was another laugh, in which the
boy joined, in spite of his embarrassment.

"Bill it shall be," agreed Brother John, "so
come along with us, and we '11 decide what is to
be done with you."

We turned the boy over to Mrs. Mummer to be
fed, and, after finding Bart, settled ourselves in
the great hall to tell Brother John of the night's
adventure. 'T was not without misgivings that I
began the tale, and Bart, too, was by no means
sure how John would view the matter. We told
him all just as it happened, though his face be-
came graver as we proceeded. At last it was
out, and we waited for the scolding we felt would
come ; but, with a shake of his head, Brother John
rose to his feet and took a turn or two up and
down the room before he spoke. It was plain
that he was, indeed, much upset. At first he
seemed little interested in the story itself.

336

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Feb.,

"Bart," he began at last, and his voice trembled
a little in his earnestness, "this matter is done
with, and I am not one to bluster at what might
have happened; but, for the future, remember if
you have any hair-brained adventures afoot, go
elsewhere for help in them. Do you understand,
sir, what I mean?"

"Yes, Cousin John," answered Bart, meekly;
"but the treasure was worth the finding."

"Nay !" Brother John exclaimed roundly, "all
the treasure in the world is not worth the risk
of anything happening to Beatrice. Think you
there is gold enough in all the earth to replace
her ? No, sir, she is all I have, and when I think
what might have happened to her with that
desperate man, Schmuck,— for he is desperate,—
I scarce know how to contain myself."

"Oh, Brother John," I said, going up to him
and taking his hand, "I 'm all right, and— and it
was n't all Bart's fault. I wanted to go."

He looked down at me earnestly, and then
breathed a deep sigh.

"Well, we will not say anything more about it,
but you must promise me, Bee, that you will not
go off again on harum-scarum adventures of this
sort. I should be fit for nothing if I thought that
the minute my back was turned you would be
putting your life in danger on some fool's errand.
Come now, promise !"

"But, Brother John," I protested, "you see,
Washington does need money— and am I never to
do anything for the cause? Indeed, I feel that
sometime you yourself might tell me I could go."

"Nay, I doubt that," he answered; "but, if such
a time should come, ask yourself, 'Would Brother
John tell me to do this?' and if you can honestly
answer, 'He would,' then you may go. But let it
be understood once and for all that such permis-
sion would not include wild hunts with Bart for
pirate treasure along the Wissahickon."

I made the promise he asked, and we shook
hands to bind it.

"And now to settle this matter of the two
boys," he went on. "Where is Mark Powell ?
He is a good lad, and I shall take him into my
company. I owe him much for his work this
night."

"He is hiding in the smoke-house," said Bart;
"shall I fetch him in?"

"Aye," answered Brother John, and Bart ran
off eagerly.

'T was fine to see the welcome John gave Mark
Powell, shaking him by the hand and promising
to give him his wish to serve the cause. And
Mark, too, was fine, and stood straight and tall
before Brother John. I noted that they were
much of the same build, and, though the boy was

younger, his face looked older than he was, be-
cause of the hard life he had been forced to live.
Indeed, he had grown most wonderfully since we
first saw him in the Jerseys.

Upon inquiry, we found that he had not eaten
since noon of the day before, so off he, too, was
sent to Mrs. Mummer, with instructions that he
was to be well fed in the shortest possible time.

"And now," said Brother John, "let us get at
what may be the most important part of this
business. Where is this map that the Magus de-
manded of Bee?"

"I saw naught of any such thing," I answered,
bringing out the package ; "but he seemed so
certain I had it that perhaps it's here after all."

I laid the notes, still wrapped in the parchment
and silvered paper, on the table, and, while Bart
and I looked on, Brother John began to search
carefully through the bundle.

Nothing showed upon the parchment covering,
and then the silvered paper was examined. The
underside of this was white, and might have
served the purpose, but, though we scrutinized it
carefully, no mark was visible upon it.

Next Brother John took up each note in turn,
thinking something might have been drawn
thereon ; but nothing was found.

"The Magus was mistaken," I said, as he laid
the last one down.

"Nay, be not so sure of that," answered John,
"we have n't yet finished our inspection" ; and he
began again to take up the bills one by one and
hold them to the light.

"Why are you doing that ?" asked Bart.

"Because," explained John, "it is sometimes
possible to split such notes and conceal a thin bit
of paper between the halves before they are
pasted down again. I 've known of despatches
sent that way by spies."

This gave a new interest to the search, but it
came to nothing. No scrap of anything that
could be described as a chart, naught save the
notes themselves and the silvered wrapper, could
we discover.

"Was there any other paper?" asked John.

"There was some brown paper and some
cord," I answered.

"That 's in the barn," said Bart.

"Fetch it," commanded Brother John ; but when
he had returned with the outside wrapper, we
were again disappointed, for there was naught
upon it save a spot or two of dirt left by
Schmuck's muddy fingers when he took the pack-
age from the tea-caddy.

"I think your Magus must have been trying to
impress you for some reason or other," was
Brother John's final conclusion.

I9I3-]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

337

'3HSJiJS?5s< ^e P'cked up the notes, stuffing them

into the pocket of his coat, and was
about to throw the piece of silvered pa-
per into the fireplace, when I stopped him.
"Let me have that, brother," I said.
' 'T will cut up into fine jewelry for
Peg's dolls."

"Aye, so it will," he answered, and
handed it to me.

That was the end of the talk about our adven-
ture, and later on I carried the piece of silvered
paper up-stairs with me, and put it under a cut-
glass bottle on my dressing-table to keep it from
being blown away, and there it lay for a time,
forgotten.

Brother John took the two boys
away to Philadelphia with
him that same afternoon,

"Nay, brother," I insisted, "I have no doubt
at all that the Magus believed that I had
what he sought, and that 't was not the
money. He said I might keep that, and I feel
sure he would not have taken the risk he did
unless it was for something of vast impor-
tance. 'T is very mysterious," I ended.

"Nay," laughed Brother John, "there 's no
mystery here. Good Bank of England notes
are plain enough for all to read. But what is
to be done with them?"

"They 're Bee's," answered Bart, so rue-
fully that we all laughed.

" 'T was my plan, brother," I explained,
"to pay off Mark Powell's bond and let him
go to the war as my substitute, seeing that I
cannot go myself. The rest will purchase
Bart's commission."

' 'T is a good plan," agreed John, "and I
will think about it. But in the meantime I
will keep the notes, and, if your Magus turns
up again, send him to me. I should love to
meet him for, say, five minutes. I warrant he
would be a more honest Magus thereafter."
Vol. XL. -43.

TICKING UP THE RASKET, I BROUGHT IT DOWN' OVER
THE HEAD OF THE BOY, BONNETING HIM."

338

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Feb.,

and Mark, when he was told of the plan that he
was to serve as a substitute for me, regarded the
matter much more seriously than I did. To me it
was half a joke, but he looked at it otherwise.

"Miss Beatrice," he said earnestly, just before
he started out, "you need not fear that your sub-
stitute will not do his duty."

McLane, who was with Washington outside New
York.

So, with one thing and another, the days passed
quickly enough, and I thought no more about the
Magus and his mysterious map.

One evening, however, the matter was brought
back to me in a startling way. I went up to my

MARK STOOD STRAIGHT AND TALL BEFORE BROTHER JOHN.

"Nay, I have no fear of that," I answered, giv-
ing him my hand, "and, Mark," I added, "I trust
you to look after my brother as I would were I
there."

"Aye, with my life !" answered Mark, and I
knew that he meant it.

"And I '11 shine his boots till he can see his face
in them," said Bill Schmuck, who was wholly
delighted at the decision that he was to go as
John's body-servant.

There was no trouble in arranging for Mark's
freedom from service, and a day or two later,
word came to me from John that my substitute
was on his way to join the troop under Captain

room, and, as I opened the door, I gave an ex-
clamation of surprise and dismay. Everything
was in the utmost confusion. Littered from end
to end were the contents of my presses, drawers,
and closets ; frocks, shoes, ribbons, and I know
not what else were strewn helter-skelter about the
chamber. Every pocket was turned inside out ;
no box was too small to be emptied ; even the bed
was pulled apart and the mattress drawn half-
way off", showing how thorough had been the
search. My dressing-table was stripped of its
bottles and brushes, and the cover slipped off.
Nothing was injured, yet everything was dis-
placed; and I knew not what to make of it.

i9i3-]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

339

I called Mrs. Mummer, who came with Cla-
rinda, both of them so dumbfounded that they
could not speak for some moments.

'" 'Deed, Miss Bee," murmured Clarinda, at
length, "looks lak you had a big wind in here to
you'self !" And that was a true description of
what the place looked like.

Mrs. Mummer, more practical, was seeking an
explanation.

"There cannot be a thief in this house !" she
murmured, half to herself, though, indeed, such
a thought was almost impossible.

"Let us see if anything has been taken," I sug-
gested, as we began to put the room in order.

It took a good hour of hard labor, but at length
most of the things were in their proper places,
and yet nothing was missing.

" 'T is passing strange," said Mrs. Mummer.
"I cannot understand it."

"What 's dat shinin'?" asked Clarinda, point-
ing to a spot of light that shone on the boards
far back under the bed.

"Fetch it out," said Mrs. Mummer, and Cla-
rinda got to her knees and scrambled on the
floor.

" 'T is piece of silvered paper, ma'am," came
the muffled voice from under the bed, and, at
that, there popped into my head an explanation of
what it all meant.

"The Magus is hunting for his map," I thought
to myself; but aloud I said, "Give me the paper,
Clarinda" ; and when she had done so, I looked at
it again carefully, but there was naught upon it,
and I replaced it upon the dressing-table.

( To be continued. )

rWHEN. GRANDMA-VAS-A- LITTLE-GIRL*

1SHI1

r^l

*&>■

IKenLOfran.dttvBL'v^auS a.
-^little firl
Her hair vw never out
of curl,

"lit? truej.siietQlclme.so.
She-never raced or

romped about,
Or shouted when she.
shouldn't .ihout.
sjOhno^oukncK^ohno !

he never tumbled
tangled locks^
Or ate-xke cookies
froin tke box .
She- used to sit and
sew-
On little patches' white-
aria pink..
Tt almastbreaks my
heart to think.
"What «*• ari3mau
nai^sed^ou know.

HON. JEAN JULES JUSSERAND,

Ambassador of France to the

United States.

Photograph by Pach Bros.
THE LATE JOHN BIGELOW.

Photograph by Brown Bros.

JAMES MC CREA,

Ex-President of the Pennsylvania

Railroad.

i i

THE BOY AND THE MAN'

CONCLUSION OF THE BRIEF "TALKS WITH BOYS" TAKEN FROM THE SERIES COLLECTED
BY HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG FOR THE GILMAN SCHOOL AT BALTIMORE

(See St. Nicholas for January, page 227)

THE READY MEANS OF HAPPINESS

BY HON. JEAN JULES JUSSERAND

When you leave school and enter life, if you
have in any way profited (as I doubt not you
have) by the tuition received in your young days,
you will be struck by the easy accessibility, to
men of good will, of most of the things that
make happy lives, and the inanity of many sup-
posed causes of happiness — supposed to be such
only because rare and difficult to reach. The
really best, those upon which a happy life most
depends, were always accessible. They are more
so now than ever; or, rather, to these perennial
causes of happiness causes of pleasure of the
highest order have been added, and placed within
the reach of every one who chooses. Those fun-
damental causes of happiness lie, most of them,
in ourselves, and depend, to a very large extent,
on our temper, character, our manners, our com-
parative disinterestedness, and upon that sense
of duty which places within reach, at every mo-
ment, the keen pleasure of duty fulfilled. All this
reacts on our neighbors, and increases our
chances of avoiding the sadness of solitude, and
of learning what sweetness there is in friendship
and in love. No better arms than those, I assure
you, with which to fight "bad luck." Mind you
do not start without being well provided with
them. In this, again, your school education will
prove an immense boon to you. And as for those

pleasures to which I alluded, that add so much
flavor to more solid happiness, they are now ac-
cessible to all who care for them : pleasures of the
mind formerly reserved for the happy few, at the
time when manuscripts were rare, libraries pri-
vate, and instruction a kind of privilege ; while
now the smallest sum will purchase the master-
pieces of the rarest genius, libraries abound, open
to all comers, and centers of instruction, more and
more accessible, multiply everywhere.

The same is the case with many arts, now more
accessible to the multitude than ever before :
music, painting, sculpture. To-day, there are
public museums in every town, while not one
existed in the Middle Ages. Innumerable inven-
tions have multiplied the means of having in the
poorest house, if not an original masterpiece, at
least a reminder of it— a copy which the owner's
mind will readily endow with the beauty of the
real picture or object.

One other thing will strike you deeply as you
enter active life ; that is the part played by duty
in a man's existence. I must confess that, when
a boy, duty seemed to me a most honorable but
rather gloomy sort of ideal, the observance of
which was obligatory, to be sure, but not exactly
exhilarating. Experience shows that it is pre-
cisely the reverse : it is not gloomy, it is inspir-
ing; it gives interest and zest to actions, the very
repetition of which would cause them to be be-
yond endurance, but for this consideration of

"THE BOY AND THE MAN"

341

duty. Duty is the salt of life. And it is so con-
venient too ; such an easy guide ; such a solver
of difficulties. When you are well convinced of
it, most of the difficulties, uncertainties, and
doubts in actual life vanish. The infallible oracle
is at hand.

A FEW SUGGESTIONS

BY THE LATE HON. JOHN BIGELOW

Here are a few suggestions which my experience
has commended to my favor, and which I hope a
careful perusal and some reflection will commend
to yours :

Do the most important thing first, then the sec-
ond most important thing will become the most
important, and in turn the first.

To attempt doing more than one thing at a time
results often in finishing neither, and oftener in
doing neither well. By doing the most important
thing first, you will do everything you have to do
more to your satisfaction and in less time than if
you undertake more at the same time.

You must be very careful to make no mistake
about what is the most important thing. That is
a mistake school-boys are very prone to make,
their inclinations so frequently conflict with their
duty.

If you have some trouble in selection, I would
suggest that you would think for a few minutes
of what your parents have incurred the expense
of sending you to school for. Try to answer that
question conscientiously, and you will be likely to
make a wise selection.

Never allow yourselves to call any of your
school-fellows offensive, opprobrious, or disre-
spectful nicknames.

It will seem to you, perhaps, a right and proper
enough thing to do, but it is neither right nor
proper for you ever to do. The one to whom you
apply such names, however indifferent he may
seem, will never forget it nor forgive you for it,
though he may never have the sensibility or cour-
age to resent it. It is to be hoped that you all
desire the respect of your comrades. To entitle
yourselves to it, you must begin by always treat-
ing them with respect.

A good example on the benches of a school-
room will exert more influence upon the pupils
than a cart-load of precepts from the professor's
chair.

It is like the ripple projected by a pebble thrown
into the harbor of Baltimore, which is not ex-
hausted even when it breaks upon the remotest
beach of the ocean on the other side of the world.
Every pupil instinctively, if unconsciously, feels
respect for, and to some extent imitates, the ex-

amples of his comrades, and, throughout the rest
of his life, will spread through the world the
quota of that influence which he was so fortunate
or unfortunate as to appropriate. Where that
influence finally terminates it is as impossible to
determine as where the ripple projected by the
impact of the pebble in the Baltimore harbor will
come to a rest.

Remember that it is what you do for others that
makes friends for you; not what they do for you.

When you can give one of your classmates a
little timely help in his lessons, it will be more
profitable to both of you than the lesson you as-
sisted him with would be likely ever to be. It
might open the eyes and heart of your comrade
for the first time to the beauty of the doing as
you would be done by. That would contribute
to make a more desirable companion, a happier
man, and a better citizen.

At the colleges, universities, and military and
naval academies of your country, it is the prac-
tice in their competitive base-ball games for the
partisans of the team that makes "a hit." as it is
called, to make the welkin ring with their shouts
and huzzas.

That always seems to me painfully bad man-
ners, and utterly inconsistent with what purports
to be gentlemanly sport. One of the teams is
presumably the guest of the other, invited to
come, and test and teach their skill, respectively.
What can be more rude and ungentlemanly than
to hurrah and yell when your team makes a good
hit, and to observe utter silence when your guest
makes as good a hit ? Here is an opportunity for
your school to set the more venerable institutions
of learning in the country an example in good
breeding, and to confer an honorable distinction
upon your junior institution.

LESSONS NOT LEARNED OUT OF
BOOKS

BY JAMES MC CREA

As a result of my own experience, and the ob-
serving of others, I have concluded that the best
single piece of educational advice that I can give
boys is to cultivate the habit of seeing, and mak-
ing unconscious mental note of things seen or
heard; in other words, to learn to keep your eyes
and ears open. To illustrate how this can be
done : at the end of a day, a walk, or a ride, try
and remember what you have unconsciously ob-
served, no matter how trivial, such as :

The name on a delivery wagon that passed by ;
a broken rail in a fence; a defect in a sidewalk;
the color of a girl's dress ; a remark accidentally
overheard.

342

"THE BOY AND THE MAN"

[Feb.,

At first you will be surprised how few things
you can remember outside of those in which you
had an interest. Later on, as your powers of
observation develop, you will be astonished at
the number of things you have unconsciously
noted.

Having acquired the habit of keeping your eyes
and ears open, you will naturally (or should do
so) drop into making unconscious deductions
based on what you have seen and heard, and
again unconsciously storing them away in your
memory to be drawn upon when sudden demand
for such knowledge is made upon you.

Other things being reasonably equal, it is the
young man who has a developed faculty for ob-
serving and reasoning quickly that is always
ready for the place ahead and who pushes past his
competitors. This is true in almost every profes-
sion or line of life, be it the church, the army,
the navy, railroading, medicine, law, manufactur-
ing, or politics.

The lessons must be self-taught, but can be
better learned and made more interesting through
organization created by yourselves. Properly
worked out, say in the form of what students call
a "Quiz Class," it can become a good school ac-
tivity, and one that will pay for the trouble.

I think that if Sir Baden-Powell's reasons for
organizing "The Boy Scouts" were traced, it
would be shown to be founded on his realization
that to make good soldiers the youth of the
British Empire must be specially trained to keep
their eyes and ears open.

THE DAWN OF A NEW ERA

BY REV. ENDICOTT PEAB0DY

First, I am grateful that I am an American. For
nine years I lived in a European country. There
I have many intimate friends, and I love their
land. But, in an older nation, institutions and
customs are fixed. They have been established
for years ; and it requires time and men of un-
usual ability to bring about reforms.

With us it is different. We have many faults
—serious faults— but when they are pointed out,
we are eager to overcome them. And owing to
this willingness to see things as they are, and,
when we find them wrong, to remedy them, there
is a better chance for the life of an ordinary man
to tell in America than anywhere else.

And, second, I am glad that I have been born
at this time.

It is a perplexing and at the same time a most
interesting epoch.

And the reason is that we are entering upon a
new era. Until to-day, we have been living un-

der the system of feudalism of the Middle Ages.
The well-to-do man was a lord; the laborer was
the lord's man. He owed his lord allegiance; he
was subject to him. That system, imported from
Europe, continued in a modified form in this
country, even after we had become an independ-
ent nation and a republic. We have never yet
been really democratic. Feudalism has lingered.
The less fortunate members of the community—
those who have been obliged to work with their
hands or to serve the well-to-do— have been in a
sense subservient. They have been obliged to
please those in authority over them, because they
were dependent upon them for a livelihood.

Now this is all being overturned. The laboring
people have come to realize that they possess as
much power as any class in the community. And
these coming years are going to see a readjust-
ment of relations.

There are those who compare these times to
those preceding the French Revolution of 1789.
But they are different ; for then the people were
utterly downtrodden, and it seemed to them that
only by bloodshed could they get their rights.
With us the change, which is likely to amount to
a revolution in its result, can be effected peace-
fully, if the different members of the community
try to understand each other, and to work to-
gether along religious and scientific lines.

For this purpose, there must be raised up a
race of men who shall have in their hearts love
of country, faith in their fellow-men, and insight
into the working of great economic principles.

The call is for leaders, and every man can be
a leader; but the leadership must be of the kind
such as Christ defined: "Whosoever would be
great among you, let him be your servant."

A readiness to serve and a desire to learn ! If
a boy has these qualities, and develops them,
there are splendid possibilities before him. For
the world is expecting a new and great develop-
ment of human life on a much higher level, and,
if we will, this nation can help in bringing it to
pass, and those who are boys to-day can lead the
march.

On to the bounds of the wastes,
On to the city of God!

THE CHALLENGE OF LIFE

BY HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE

It has been said that, on very quiet nights, the
challenge of an English sentry, flung out to sea
by the rock on which Gibraltar stands, can be
heard across the Mediterranean on the coast of
Africa.

The challenges of life, which meet a man at

I9I3-]

THE BOY AND THE MAN

343

every turn of the road, are not the less peremp-
tory because they are unspoken. The man him-
self does not hear them, and often does not know
that he has answered and passed on. Many
young men, who are making themselves com-
fortable instead of making themselves ready,
deceive themselves with the idea that when the
opportunity comes they will get ready for it. The
trouble is that the opportunity comes when they
do not expect it, and is gone before they know
that it has come. The challenge has been spoken,
but they have not heard it. Opportunity always
meets those who are ready for it, because readi-
ness creates opportunity. Men who count do not
wait for opportunity — they make it. If the wind
is against them, they handle the boat differently,
but they sail in the teeth of the wind as readily as
they sail before it, and often get more fun match-
ing their skill against an unfriendly breeze than
in making speed without effort. But a man must
know his boat to manage it well in bad weather.

At any turn in the road, life stands and halts
a man with its ringing challenge, "Are you
ready?" If a man can answer with a quick
"Ready !" he is free of the road, and can go
swiftly on until he is met with another challenge.

When is a man ready? Many people think he
is ready when he is willing. Now, willingness is
the right attitude for a man to take when he finds
himself in the presence of opportunity; but one
must be able to do something more than stand at
attention — he must know how to do the work
before him. A thousand men may be willing, but
only fifty may be ready. To be ready one must
be competent to use the tools, to shape the ma-
terials put in his hand. Good work is never done .

by men who have not prepared for it ; greatness
of achievement is never a matter of chance.

One quiet summer afternoon a steerage passen-
ger jumped into the sea from the deck of an
ocean steamer. The ship was instantly put on a
great circle, and the men sprang to the rail to be
ready to lower the boats. There was a German
gentleman standing beside me on the upper deck,
watching the swing of the steamer. Suddenly
we saw the head of the drowning passenger at a
little distance. The man beside me instantly
loosened his shoes, threw off his hat and coat,
sprang to the rail, made a beautiful dive into the
sea, struck out for the struggling man ; a boat
shot to their rescue from the ship's side, and both
were soon on deck. It was the swift deed of a
hero, but it would have been impossible if he had
not been an expert swimmer. Many men on the
"liner" were willing; he was ready.

The men who find life interesting and make it
worth while for others are the men who are al-
ways in some kind of school, for the school is the
place in which we get ready. And business men
are looking for college-bred men to-day, because
they have found out that men who really go
through college, and do not merely spend four
years in a college town, are ready.

There is nothing more disappointing than to
be chased through vacation by work that ought to
have been done in term time. This means that
when the challenge comes on the first day of
vacation, "Are you ready?" you cannot answer,
"Ready!" The unready man not only misses the
opportunity of life, but misses the fun also. For
the secret of real fun, with no string tied to it, is
to have your work all behind you.

Photograph by Notmaii Co

REV. ENDICOTT PEABODY,
Headmaster of Groton School.

Photograph by Rockwood.

HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE,
Associate Editor of "The Outlook."

TED, NED, AND THE SLED

BY MINNIE LEONA UPTON

A little boy called Ted

Had a jolly little Sled,
And another little boy named Ned had none.

Said merry little Ted :
"That is n't fair to Ned—
But I think I see a way to have some fun.

"For I will just divide;
And every other slide

I '11 make him take — and I '11 have those between.
So that 's the way they did,
And slid, and slid, and slid,

The gayest pair of coasters ever seen.

While one flew down the hill,

The other, with a will,
Would shout, "Hurrah!" as if he 'd never stop;

Then, when he started back,

Would scamper down the track,
To help him draw the Sled up to the top.

So neither got a chill
From standing stiff and still,

Nor wasted half a minute, as you see ;
And I have heard it said
That Ted, Ned, and the Sled

Had better times than any other three !

THE FIRST INVENTIONS

BY GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH

It is well known that many of the great inven-
tions of man find their counterpart in nature, and
while he may not have stolen his patents direct
from the great living world about us, he must have
been influenced more or less by observations of
these natural objects. Some of the most common
things in use to-day have an obscure origin, and
their history shows that they must have devel-
oped slowly rather than sprung suddenly upon
the world.

Hinges, for instance, are so old that the basic
patent of them could never have been filed in
any patent office. The first perfect hinge was
probably that of the oyster. The thorny oyster
of the Pacific coast has its two shells joined to-
gether by a hinge as good as any found in any
hardware shop of the country. There are other
hinges found in nature, but that of the oyster
reaches the highest perfection. We have made
little advance upon this device in all of our years
of patenting and inventing.

The lobster's claw is said to be the original
gas-fitter's pincers. There are many other pincer-
carrying animals, especially the scorpions, and
among these we can find nearly as great a vari-
ety as in the hardware shop. Shears and scissors
are very similar in operation to the pincers, and
we find a number of creatures carrying such
tools. The earwigs, for instance, carry a pair of
forceps as skilfully constructed as any a dentist
uses. The power of the big pincers of a crab's
or lobster's claw is well known, and some of the
modern instruments used for gas-fitting are based
on principles of construction somewhat similar.

The first pump ever invented was the heart of
a man or animal, and it is to-day one of the most
perfect pumps in use. The heart as a pump is
decidedly up-to-date, and engineers unanimously
agree that its principles of construction for the
highest efficiency are correct, and that it is not
surpassed by any pump invented by man. It is not
only a powerful force-pump of incredible effi-
ciency, but it is self-repairing and self-renovat-
ing. " While the mechanism is in action, it
cleanses and purifies itself. For its size and
work, it is the greatest pump of the age.

The principle of the ball-and-socket joint is
used as the basis of many of our tools of to-day,
but the first invention of this kind was that of a
shoulder or leg or spine of some animal. The
snakes, for instance, have long chains of balls
and sockets working in perfect harmony, so that
Vol. XL. — 44. 345

their bodies have the most wonderful flexibility
of any living thing. Most of the legs of animals
and insects are fitted with ball-and-socket joints,
giving them great powers of flexible movement.

Long before the electric light was invented,
Nature had her own invention on the market.
She anticipated the ages by a good many thou-
sands of years. She invented the perfect storage
battery and the light without heat— the ideal of
the modern illuminating engineer.

The electric eel and torpedo ray carry around
with them batteries that can be charged with suf-
ficient electricity to kill or render unconscious
their enemies. The electrical plates of the tor-
pedo ray often number as many as half a million,
and these are arranged like the metallic portions
of a voltaic pile. The plates are separated from
each other by very thin, delicate membranes.
The electric organs of the eel are even larger
than those of the torpedo ray, and it can deliver a
shock that will cause suffering to man or fish.

The lantern-fly of tropical America is the orig-
inal "electric lamp," which gives a bright light
without heat. Even our common fireflies may be
studied with profit in showing how Nature antici-
pated man's efforts to illuminate the night with
his lamps and torches.

We have all sorts of boxes in use to-day, and
some of these are of clever design and workman-
ship ; but Nature invented the first box, and also
one of the most perfect. The stout shell or box
in which she packs her Brazil-nuts beats any of
the Chinese puzzles. The nuts are packed in this
box, and when removed by man, it is impossible
to restore them to their original place. There
seems insufficient room for them in the stout
shell, and it is a puzzle that has not yet been
solved, how to get the nuts back again.

But even more wonderful is the shell of the
tortoise, which is so marvelously adapted to the
living creature within, that it is called the box of
boxes. It is perfect in construction, and when
the tortoise is inside, it fills every bit of space.

In recent years, a good deal of work has been
given to the construction of boxes or other round
things that would not roll off the edge of a flat
surface. Now the egg of the hen is notorious for
its tendency to roll off a shelf and break. We
have to-day all sorts of round things so inge-
niously constructed that they cannot roll off.
They simply roll round and round in the same
spot, and therefore they are perfectly safe, laid

346

THE FIRST INVENTIONS

[Feb.,

anywhere on a flat shelf or table. But Nature
knew all about that trick years ago. She built the
egg of a sea-bird called the murre on this prin-
ciple. Place one of these eggs on the edge of a
table, and it will not roll off. If disturbed, it sim-
ply rolls round and round in nearly the same spot.
Nature evidently designed the eggs of the murre
in this way because the bird had a habit of laying
them on shelving rocks where a slight wind might
easily blow them off. It was a protective pre-
caution that saved the birds many unpleasant
tragedies.

The first bottle ever invented was the gourd.
Among the gourds we find several of the differ-
ent-shaped bottles invented by man. We may
have taken the gourd as a guide for these, and
made water-bottles accordingly.

The first spinning-machine was that of the
moth, whose caterpillar spins the cocoon. We
have perfected the spinning-machine only after
years of effort and study, and we have succeeded
in producing wonderful fabrics from these ma-
chines, but, after all, none of them excels in
beauty and delicacy the work of the earliest spin-
ner. The silent spinner of the cocoons is equaled
only by the spider spinning his thread. We have
tried to equal the spider's thread in size and deli-
cacy, but so far have failed. The silkworm is
another spinner whose work was begun long be-
fore man ever invented his spinning-machines.

The first seamstress was the tailor-bird, which
stitches the leaves of her nests together so neatly
that one is surprised. The primitive Eskimos and
Kafirs bored holes in pieces of hide, and then
pushed the thread through. This was the primi-
tive method of sewing among the savages. But
long before the needle was invented by man, the
tailor-bird was busy sewing the leaves together
in a manner that excites our admiration to-day.
The bird did not invent the modern needle, but
it did do far better sewing than primitive man,
and if he had been more observing, he might
have improved greatly upon his art.

The first hypodermic syringe ever invented
was given by Nature to the mosquito. It is pro-
vided with saws and lances to puncture the skin,
and then a tube through which the insect sucks
the blood of its victim. The poisonous serpents
carry about an even more perfect hypodermic
syringe. It is the poisonous fang, which is hol-
low, and through which the poison is injected
when the point of the sharp tooth has entered the
skin. These fangs are slender and needle-like,
so that a hypodermic injection can be made at
one stroke.

The swordfish carried the first sword, and its
power of penetrating several inches of solid oak

wood is not surpassed by any similar weapon of
steel.

We all know that the first airships were the
birds, beetles, and insects, and man learned to
construct his flying-machines by a study of the
flight of birds. It is true that we have made
changes in our airships so that their flight
through the air is quite different from that of the
bird ; but the reason we do this is that we have
never yet actually solved the problem of wing-
flying. Our airships do not fly, as we technically
understand that word, for they are not propelled
by their spreading wings, but in time we may
solve the actual problem of wing-flying.

We imitate the shapes and forms of the birds
and insects in constructing our airships. We
have found that they offer the least amount of
friction to the air, and we cannot improve much
upon them. Further study in this direction may
eventually reveal to us new ideas and inventions.

The first balloon was not made by man. In the
tropical seas, the so-called globe-fish are verita-
ble balloons. These strange creatures of the deep
• dilate their gullets with air, and their bodies swell
up in the shape of a globe, or balloon. In this
inflated condition, they rise to the surface of the
water, and each passing wind blows them along.
It is believed that they do this to escape from
their enemies in the water below them.

The pneumatic peg, cup, and other like contriv-
ances that one frequently sees to-day, may have
had their origin in the suckers of the octopus. The
principle of the vacuum cup, or peg, is to ex-
haust the air from the inside, and the suction
will then hold it firmly to any flat surface. A
pneumatic peg can thus be pushed against the
side of a wall, and it will stay there indefinitely
by the suction force. The octopus uses this same
principle in holding its enemies or in clinging to
rocks under the water. The power of the suc-
tion of one of its tentacles is so great that the
strength of two men will often fail to pull it
loose.

Of course, many of these peculiar devices were
partly or wholly concealed from the eyes of the
primitive man. It required the invention of the
magnifying-glass to enable him to study the in-
tricate mechanism of the mosquito's bill, for in-
stance, but the magnifying-glass itself was al-
ready waiting for him in a drop of water. A
drop of water makes a perfect magnifying-glass.
It cannot be utilized as such, but it is an interest-
ing secret of nature.

On the other hand, savage races did imitate the
methods of nature in many cases. They used the
gourd for bottles before the commercial bottle
was ever invented and manufactured. They used

I9I3-]

THE FIRST INVENTIONS

347

the shells of the oyster and clam also by substitu-
ting leather thongs in place of the material Na-
ture gave to the bivalves for their hinges.

The more we study nature, the greater the
number of devices we find that are similar to
important engineering inventions in use to-day.

In his upward progress from savagery to civili-
zation, man did not grasp many of these inven-
tions by observing nature. Most of them he had
to learn by hard study and experiment. Yet all
the while the principle was there, waiting for him
to take notice of it.

CKe -Jovtgi.1 -JXxclge

Git £ti-st it dave- cl-ta- Ctte-e-rixxt C^-ots <rv. Scare
Co yree-ct "th.^ Glztec JtxcLge- o.ncl "Woolly Be-cxr ,

Gkey "prove-cl to i><£< ex- most oLxve-Ttx^o "pctXT1 .

LE SINGS

BIO

LET
RJFT

\5WBEG

1 love to hear the kettLe sing

In winter when the wind is blowing ,
It somehow makes me think of spring ,
Though it is snowing.

A little sort of chirp comes firstf

And then a. gentle drowsy humming',
That seems to say, 'Were through the worst!
Yes , spring is coming ! "

1 know quite well , outside the room ,
What is n't snowy must be icy ,
And yet I dream of fruit aund bloom
In Islands spicy —

And little running, laughing streams,
And dear green woods , with vines and mosses,
And sunny places full of gleams ,
When the wind tosses .

x The leafy branches ex.11 a.bout

Make just eunotker sort of singing ;
And little furry things come out,
Leaping and springing.

And always ,when 1 aet to this,
And feel a, sort of pleas ant creepy,
My Mother wakes me with a kiss tJ
And "Oh, how sleepy!"

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT

Author of "Careers of Danger and Daring," "Through the Wall," "The Battle," etc.

Chapter X

THE HOLY CITY

That evening, in their Jerusalem quarters (two
large rooms at the Grand Hotel, facing David's
tower), the boys held a council of war on this
new situation. So already there was an enemy in
camp, a shrewd, unscrupulous man sent to spy
upon them. Mrs. Evans was right— they had
been watched from the moment they left Cairo.

"A smooth proposition, Brother Mesrop ; eh,
Sandy? He 'd have worked his scheme all right,
if it had n't been for your mother's letter."

"No wonder he did n't want any wages," mut-
tered Harold.

"Reckon he laughed when we tried our scheme
of calling you Mr. Harold."

"Question is, what shall we do about it? Tell
him and fire him, or— what?" And Harold
thought a moment.

"Jack, we must n't tell him. We must n't let
him know we suspect anything. It 's part of the
game. As long as he thinks he 's got us, he won't
be so much on his guard, and we '11 have some
chance of getting him."

"How do you mean 'getting him ?' "

Sandy's lips tightened.

"I mean almost anything by way of getting
the best of Mr. Arshag Mesrop Telecjian. He 's
the man who tricked my mother and— started this
trouble. I think we '11— hand him a few things."

Jack nodded.

"Yes, we just will. And, meanwhile, we '11
keep him as our guide?"

"Sure ! keep him, and keep an eye on him, but
don't let him know it. Next time he sends a tele-
gram, we '11 find out who it 's to. And so on.
See? Besides, I '11 tell Deeny to watch him, and
—when Deeny watches a man, he 's watched!"

"What shall we do about the Greek monk?"

"We must n't do anything— yet. For Brother
Basil 's our mainstay. We must n't go near him
until we know it 's safe. We must n't speak his
name or try to find him or anything."

"What shall we do ?"

"Hold to the picture game. Say we 're in a
hurry to get back to America. That 's true
enough. We are !"

So it happened that, for a week, the boys went
about Jerusalem apparently absorbed in taking

pictures, and neither by word nor act did they
give any hint of their real purpose. Day after
day, the eloquent Telecjian followed them about,
ready with assistance and with information on all
subjects. And day after day Nasr-ed-Din (who
rarely spoke) kept a tireless but unobtrusive eye
on the smooth-tongued Syrian.

Up to the time of this visit, Jack McGreggor's
conception of the holy city had been gained
chiefly from two hymns that he had learned at
Sunday-school, "Jerusalem the golden, with milk
and honey blest," which was hard to sing on ac-
count of a high F sharp, and "O mother dear,
Jerusalem," which he liked much better, espe-
cially when they set it to the fine marching tune.

"That was the heavenly Jerusalem they were
talking about," explained Sandy when Jack com-
plained of the sad contrast between this Sunday-
school picture and the actual fact.

"I know," said McGreggor, "but it does surprise
you to find no water, no trees, no honey, and only
goat's milk in the coffee."

"I saw a tree yesterday."

"One solitary palm !"

"There are olive-trees."

"All covered with dust ! They look like paper-
trees. I wrote Dad that this town had no fire-
department because there 's nothing in it to burn.
And the dirty streets !"

"It 's a noisy city, though," reflected Harold.

"That 's because it 's got so many different
kinds of people in it," explained Jack. "Say, pro-
fessor," he turned to the coin collector, "how
many languages are spoken in Jerusalem?"

Telecjian thought for a moment.

"On a guess, young gentlemen, I should say
about thirty. There are pilgrims from every cor-
ner of the world : Turks, Jews, Armenians, Egyp-
tians, Persians, Abyssinians, Greeks, Arabs, Su-
danese, Levantines, Kurds, Copts, and all the
nations of Europe."

"And all of 'em in the streets together," added
Jack, "all jabbering at once, without counting
donkeys braying, and camel bells jangling, and
dogs howling, and geese quacking, and parrots
screaming, and buffaloes bellowing, and fourteen
other kinds of animals mixing it up in the
chorus !"

In their first excursions through these tumul-
tuous streets, the boys felt themselves lost in a

349

350

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Feb.,

labyrinth whose key was beyond their finding.
The ways went continually in curves and zigzags,
with up and down slantings over the four hills of
the city. And the house walls were so high and
so close together, that only now and then could
they get sight of a landmark to steer by.

"It beats all, the way a Jerusalem street will
break into stairs, like a stream into rapids !" re-
marked Harold. "Then, the first thing you know,
it dives underground through a black archway,
and does n't come up again for two or three hun-
dred yards."

Thanks to Telecjian, however, they soon
learned to find their way.

"It 's a small city, young gentlemen !" the
Syrian explained, "only a mile across ; and it is
surrounded by high walls, so, whatever happens,
you have only to walk straight ahead, and, within
ten minutes, you will either reach this encircling
wall— with its eight massive gates that you will
recognize— or you will come into David Street,
which runs east and west, and is tolerably wide — "

"About wide enough for two camels to pass,"
put in Jack. "And the way they bump into you !"

"Or else you will come to Christian Street,
which runs north and south, and is wider still."

Jack said he had no use for a city where you
could n't find a band-concert on the green or a
glass of ice-cream soda ; but he was forced to ad-
mit that Jerusalem offered fine opportunities for
taking pictures. What types and costumes in
these swarming streets ! A great photographic
hunting-ground ! And all day long, the boys
roamed over it with kodak and moving-picture
machine, for Sandy, too, caught the fever.

"We '11 come near to paying a month's expenses
with the picture stuff we '11 pick up here," Jack
declared.

It was not without difficulties, however, that
the boys got what they wanted, for they found
that, according to his religion, a Mohammedan
may not have his picture taken. It is forbidden,
as Telecjian had told them. But many things that
are forbidden may be had and done in this land
of bakshish.

Often, too, the boys learned to win by strategy.
They would wait until four o'clock in the after-
noon, when the sun was looking straight down
David Street. Then they would station them-
selves at the Jaffa gate, past which the Jews
would soon be streaming. And while Harold held
the kodak carelessly under his arm (but ready),
Jack would point enthusiastically toward David's
tower, or toward a passing camel train, or would
show extraordinary interest in some close-veiled
nun or Turkish soldier in his sentry-box; and all
the time he would be saying under his breath :

"Steady, now, Sandy! Watch the mouth of
David Street. Don't hurry ! Plenty to pick
from ! Ah ! There ! Get him on the finder.
Time enough yet ! He 's watching me. The
sun 's squarely on him. Fifteen feet. Now land
him !"

And the click of the shutter would register an-
other addition to their collection of human types.

In this way nearly a week passed, the boys re-
fraining from visiting the Holy Sepulcher or
from inquiring about the Greek monk, Basil. On
the evening of the sixth day, their patience was
rewarded by a startling discovery. They were in
their rooms making plans for the morning, when
there came a tap at the door, and Nasr-ed-Din
appeared and said something rapidly in Turkish.

"Peck-eyi (Very good)," nodded Harold. "Ex-
cuse me a minute, Jack. Deeny has something
to tell me." And he followed the Turk from the
room.

Ten minutes later, when Harold returned, his
face wore a troubled look.

"What do you think?" he began. "Here we 've
been taking a lot of pains to keep this Syrian
scoundrel from knowing anything about the
Greek monk, and here— he knows all about him."

"He does?"

"He has sent him a letter, and he 's been to see
him— to-day !"

"You mean Telecjian has been to see Basil?"

"He certainly has. Deeny followed him to the
Church of the Holy Sepulcher— you know the
Greek monks live right next to it— and he saw
Telecjian leave a letter, and— afterward he went
in and stayed ten minutes."

"With the Greek monk ?"

"Yes. A Turkish soldier who took the letter in
told Deeny."

McGreggor pursed up his lips and pulled at his
chin in perplexity.

"Can you beat that? Our biggest enemy goes
to see our best friend. Maybe there 's some mis-
take. Maybe there are two Greek monks named
Basil?"

Harold shook his head gloomily.

"No. This one has a carpenter shop in the
church tower. He does n't work in it much, but
he 's got it. Deeny says so. He 's the man
Father meant all right, and— the worst of it is—"

"What? Goon!"

"You 'd think this Basil would be a friend — to
us, would n't you?"

"He must be. Your father sent us to him."

"You 'd expect him to be a good, kind man ?"

"Sure ! What 's the point?"

"Well, he 's about the biggest hypocrite and
faker in Jerusalem !"

19U-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

351

"Basil is? Are you sure of all that, Sandy?"

"Yes. He turns out all sorts of relics supposed
to be made from olive-trees cut on the Mount of
Olives; but they have n't cut an olive-tree there
in fifty years, I 'm told."

"Did Deeny tell you that?"

"It 's a fact. Everybody knows it. Oh, he 's
made a lot of money."

"But he's the man your father said we must see ?"

"That 's the man. And we 're to ask him—
there you are, we don't know what to ask him."

The boy threw up his hands in discouragement.

"Sandy, old chap, we 're certainly up against
it !" sympathized Jack.

Their perplexity was increased the next morn-
ing, as they were standing in front of the hotel,
by a remark of the American consul, a man who
had lived in Palestine for thirty years.

"Here comes one of the most powerful and one
of the wickedest men in Jerusalem," declared the
consul ; and he pointed down the street.

"Who is it ?" asked McGreggor.

"The Greek monk, Basil," said the consul.

With fascinated interest, the boys observed a
tall, powerfully built, black-bearded man who
strode by, wearing the square black hat and the
black silken robes prescribed by the Greek church.
His eyes were cruel, his manner was overbearing.
Two gaudily dressed servants ran before him to
drive the crowd away. He looked neither to the
right nor to the left, and would have passed with-
out seeing the boys had not Telecjian coughed
slightly at this moment.

And now an extraordinary thing happened.
The Greek monk glanced up, and, as his eyes fell
on the Syrian, he started violently. In an instant,
his arrogant manner vanished, and there came
into his eyes a submissive, almost supplicating,
look. Then, bowing to the coin collector with the
utmost respect, and mumbling some words that
the boys did not understand, the monk strode on.

Chapter XI

UNDER THE DOME

As soon as the Greek monk had disappeared, the
boys questioned Telecjian about this singular
happening; but the Syrian merely shrugged his
shoulders and insisted that the monk must have
been paying his respects to the American consul.
Harold's eyes narrowed, and he was about to
make a hot reply which would have swept aside
the Syrian's whole structure of false pretense,
when McGreggor nudged him in the arm, and,
with a meaning look, reminded his friend of the
need of caution, whereupon Sandy swallowed his
wrath and said nothing.

"By the way, Arshag," said Jack, good-na-
turedly, "I wish you 'd go up to the room and fetch
me down a couple of extra rolls of films. They 're
on the little table. I b'lieve we 're going to land
something good this morning." Then, when they
were alone, "Don't be a fool, Sandy. Don't give
yourself away. Remember what your mother
said."

"But we can't go on with this fellow — now."

"Why not? Strikes me this is the time to go
on with him— until we know where we 're at.
That was your idea — to watch him, was n't it?
Well, why should we let him get away from us
just because he 's turned out to be a bigger rascal
than we thought he was?"

The wisdom of this reasoning at once appealed
to young Evans, and he agreed that the thing for
them to do was to go ahead with their picture-
taking, as if nothing had happened.

"It gets me so stirred up, Jack, but — you 've
said it, we 've got to lie low."

"That 's the talk, Sandy. Let this Syrian go
ahead with his program — he 's got the day
planned out. I think he 's booked us for the
Mosque of Omar."

"All right, but — something 's going to break
loose, Jack, pretty soon. I feel it."

And something did break loose much sooner
than the boys imagined. It was the most serious
something that had yet befallen them.

"I say, professor," asked Jack, briskly, when
Telecjian returned, "what is this Mosque of
Omar you are going to show us?"

The Syrian shook his head sadly.

"You like your little joke, Mr. McGreggor.
I 'm sure you have read about the Mosque of
Omar. It is one of the most beautiful, one of the
most wonderful architectural monuments in the
world."

"Sorry, old man, but the first I ever heard of it
was the other day — from you. How about you,
Sandy?"

"Why, I — I 've heard of it, but — I don't re-
member much about it. Built by the Turks, was
n't it?"

Telecjian sighed wearily.

"It was built by the Phoenicians, by the Baby-
lonians, by the Greeks, by the Israelites, by the
Romans, by the Crusaders, by the Saracens. It
was built by everybody and destroyed by every-
body. It 's been built and destroyed a dozen
times. The Mosque of Omar stands on the debris
of ten civilizations. Far below the vaults and
caverns that underlie it, I can show you stones
such as have never since been quarried by the
hand of man, single stones, thirty or forty or fifty
feet long, and ten feet square."

352

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

As he spoke, the Syrian's eyes burned with a
strange, quiet fire, and, in spite of themselves, the
boys hung fascinated on his words.

"You don't consider the Mosque of Omar more
beautiful than— what is that church in Venice?"
questioned Jack.

"St. Mark's? Yes, I do. And more beautiful
than the Doge's Palace. I have studied them
both."

"How about St. Peter's, in Rome?"

"It lacks the vastness of St. Peter's, but it has
a grandeur of its own and a unique charm.
You '11 see for yourselves. The Mosque of
Omar is the most mysterious monument in the
world."

"Not more mysterious than the Great Pyra-
mid?" challenged Harold.

"Yes ; because, after all, the Great Pyramid is
only a tomb, but the Mosque of Omar is—zvho
can say what the Mosque of Omar is? Once it
was Solomon's temple. And, before that, it was
Abraham's rock of sacrifice."

"Are we going to see all this to-day?" asked
Harold.

The Syrian bowed.

"I have made complete arrangements. And I
beg you young gentlemen to exercise great cau-
tion in taking pictures. In fact, I must advise
against taking pictures at all."

"Oh, I say !" protested Jack.

"I wish I could make you young gentlemen
realize what a serious matter this is. There is
nothing in the world more sacred to Moham-
medans than the Mosque of Omar, not even their
black rock at Mecca, which Christians are never
allowed to see. They would fight for this mosque ;
they would die for it. They have done so in the
past and may again. So I beg you to use caution.
We shall have two Turkish soldiers to protect us
— I have seen to that— but, even so, — you know
Mohammedans consider it a sin to take pictures."

With such admonitions, they set forth, making
their way down a narrow and filthy street at the
first turn of which Telecjian paused to point out
the grayish dome of the holy mosque rising im-
posingly before them. High it towered over the
flat-roofed houses of Jerusalem, and, on the east,
looked across the sad Valley of Jehoshaphat, with
its unnumbered graves, toward the Garden of
Gethsemane and the Mount of Olives.

"What makes the Mosque of Omar different
from all other temples," explained the Syrian, "is
the fact that it is literally built on— I should say
over— a huge rock that has never been cut or
polished or finished in any way except as nature
finished it, millions of years ago. Above this rock
the great dome rises. Encircling this rock are

the octagonal marble walls that support the dome.
And within these marble walls are twelve ex-
quisite columns that encircle the rock still more
closely. Everything is for the rock, the whole
leveled space that covers the hill— Mount Moriah
—where the mosque stands, the paved courtyard,
the colonnades, the cloisters, the fountains, the
pulpits ; all of these serve but as leading up to this
rock. Careful now, young gentlemen ! I beg
you to be careful. We are near the entrance."

At the outer threshold of the temple, several
white-turbaned Moslem priests came forward
gravely and offered felt slippers, which the boys
were required to draw on over their boots, lest
their unbelieving feet contaminate the hallowed
ground. Then, preceded by two soldiers and sev-
eral mosque attendants, they crossed the wide
courtyard, and presently found themselves under
the lofty dome, the "Dome of the Rock," as the
Turks call it.

For a minute or two, neither spoke ; they could
not speak, but stood in hushed and reverent con-
templation. The wonderful stained glass of the
high encircling windows, the inlaid gold of the,
dome itself, the marble walls patterned in ancient
mosaics, the Persian rugs spread around the
graceful central columns, and the countless glit-
tering lamps— all these appealed strongly to the
boys' imagination.

"Sandy, it 's great!" whispered Jack. "This
beats anything I ever saw."

Harold nodded in silent agreement. It was
very wonderful.

And now they moved forward softly to the
circle of columns, and, over a gilded railing,
looked upon the great, gray rock, "Es Sakhra,"
that has been reverenced as a sacred altar for
thousands of years. It is a shapeless mass that
spreads out sixty feet in length and forty in width,
and rises some twelve feet above the floor. A
crimson canopy hangs over it.

"Ever since the days of the patriarchs and per-
haps before," continued Telecjian, "this rock has
been a place of prayer and sacrifice. The Mos-
lems believe that Abraham and David and Sol-
omon came here where we are standing for spir-
itual communion with the Most High."

"Did they — did they sacrifice animals here?"
asked Sandy.

"Certainly. Sheep and goats— all the temple
sacrifices. The upper surface of the rock is con-
cave, like a basin, and an opening to carry away
the blood of the victims has been cut down
through the rock into a cavern underneath. Mo-
hammedans call it the 'Well of the Souls.' We
will go to this cavern now. Please do not speak !"

He turned sharply to McGreggor. "My dear

"AS HIS EYES FELL ON THE SYRIAN, HE STARTED VIOLENTLY.
Vol. XL.— 45-46. 353

354

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Feb.,

sir, you must not think of using your camera here.
It would be absolute madness !"

Madness or not, this was precisely what John

VIEW OF JERUSALEM. THE DOME OF THE MOSQUE OF
OMAR IN THE CENTER OF THE PICTURE.

McGreggor zvas thinking of ; in fact, he was slyly
getting his kodak ready even as a frowning Mos-
lem priest pointed out a spot in the rock, calling
it a footprint of Mohammed. And, as the priest
produced a golden casket containing two hairs
from the prophet's beard, Jack was deciding how
long a time exposure to give in this dim light.

Just what happened next was never quite dis-
tinct in the boys' minds. They were standing in
the cavern underneath the great rock, and a
Moslem priest was explaining a marble tablet
that commemorated some miraculous happening.
Then Telecjian pointed to a narrow downward
slanting passage that ran from the cavern to a
series of vaults underlying the mosque, and from
these, he said, into vast subterranean quarries
that had supplied the stone for the temple.

"It is a strange underground region, something-
like the catacombs of Rome. I don't know
that you young gentlemen would like to see it."

There was a suppressed eagerness in his tone
that made Harold vaguely uneasy, but McGreg-
gor, who was quite in the exploring spirit, insisted
that they certainly must have a look at these
quarries.

"Very well," said the Syrian. "Here are can-
dles. I will go first."

He made his way down a slippery passage fol-
lowed by the boys, who, in their turn, were fol-
lowed by one of the mosque attendants.

The downward slant continued for about a hun-
dred feet, then the passage widened and con-
tinued on a level until, presently, it ended in a
heavy irzn-cor.nJ d o:\

"This leads into the quarries," said Telecjian,
and, with a creaking of rusty iron, he swung the
door open upon what seemed like a black abyss.
And from this a blast of damp air blew in.

"Hold on, Jack," called Sandy. "I don't like
the looks of this."

"It 's all right," came the Syrian's voice out of
the shadows. "Careful of the steps."

For a moment, Harold saw McGreggor, who
was in the lead, stand hesitating in the black-
square of the doorway, then his friend seemed to
stumble and plunge into the darkness beyond.
There was a heavy fall, then silence.

Young Evans sprang after him in alarm.

"Jack!" he called; but there was no answer.
"Jack !"

At this moment, Harold felt himself pushed
violently from behind, and a crashing blow on the
head hurled him forward through the doorway.

■*%

Chapter XII

THE QUARRIES OF JERUSALEM

After a period of unconsciousness— he had no
idea now long it lasted— Harold came painfully to
himself again, and, opening his eyes, tried to see
where he was. Absolute darkness. Absolute
silence. But he could feci that he was lying on a
rough rock surface. And his body was bruised,
and his head was throbbing with pain.

"Wonder where Jack is. Poor old chap ! I
s'pose he 's about done for, too," the boy reflected.

Harold lifted himself slightly and rested on his

Photograph by Bonfils.
THE GREAT ROCK UNDER THE DOME.

elbow. He must get up and do something — go
somewhere — try to find Jack. Um-m ! His head
did hurt !

19I3-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

355

And, suddenly, as his eyes grew accustomed to
the darkness, he made out vaguely the shelving
outline of a cavern roof, and it seemed as if dim
shadows were playing over it, very dim shadows.

Harold turned his head and saw that the shad-
ows were more strongly
marked in this direction.
There was no doubt about it

— somewhere near there was
a light.

The boy rose to his feet
and groped his way weakly
and cautiously for perhaps a
dozen yards along the cavern
floor. Then he saw distinctly
before him the outline of
what appeared like the huge
black trunk of a tree, rising
from the floor and reaching
to the roof of the cavern. It
was evident that the light,
whatever it was, was just be-
hind this tree-trunk. The
question was, would this light
prove friendly or unfriendly?
It might be the light of his
enemies.

For a long time, Sandy
Evans stood still, pondering
this question, scarcely daring
to breathe. Then he sat down
and silently took off his shoes
with the slippers over them

— after all, stocking feet
were better over rocks — and
then, without a sound, he
stole to the left so that he
could look around the tree-
trunk and see what was on
the other side of it.

The first thing he saw was
Jack McGreggor lying flat
on his back with his head
slightly lifted as if it was
resting on something, and his
face very white in the light
of a flickering candle. And
bending over Jack was Ar-
shag Mesrop Telecjian in
his shirt-sleeves, bathing the "HE ST(

boy's forehead with a wet

handkerchief, and apparently trying to restore
him to consciousness.

Harold came forward out of the darkness.

"Hello there! What are you doing?" he de-
manded.

The Syrian lifted a warning hand.

"Not so loud, please, Mr. Harold."

McGreggor opened his eyes weakly.

"Is that you, Sandy?"

"Yes, old boy."

Harold knelt anxiously beside his friend.

,E TO THE LEFT, SO THAT HE COULD LOOK
AROUND THE TREE-TRUNK."

"I 'm feeling about all in, Sandy. I — I got
an awful crack on the head."

"I know, Jack. I got one, too. You '11 feel
better pretty soon. I did."

He took his friend's hand and stroked it com-
fortingly. Then he whispered to the Syrian,

356

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

"Why must n't I speak loud? Is any one else
here?" He peered suspiciously into the sur-
rounding darkness.

Telecjian turned and pointed to the iron-bound
door, twenty feet behind them, and now tight shut.

"Well?"

"The Moslems went back after attacking us."

Harold stared at him in surprise. "Attacking
us? You mean they— they attacked you, too?"

The Syrian pointed to a cut and bruise on his
forehead.

"What happens to me is of no consequence, but
I regret exceedingly that you young gentlemen
have suffered. I did my best, sir, but they were
three to one, and — the attack was so sudden. It 's
a great pity you tried to take those pictures."

Jack stirred uneasily and breathed a long sigh.

"We must do something for him," said Harold.
"He looks to me badly hurt. He needs a doctor.
He 's got to have a doctor. Can't you make these
Turks open that door?"

"Make them? No. And, if they did open the
door" — the Syrian showed his white teeth in a
sinister smile — "if they did open the door — it 's a
miracle, sir, that we 're alive at all."

"Well, is n't there some way out of here?"

"Yes. There 's an opening out of the quarries
near the Damascus gate, but— you understand
these quarries underlie the whole city of Jerusa-
lem. It is hard to find one's way."

"We must get a doctor somehow, and get him
mighty quick," insisted Harold, now thoroughly
alarmed as he saw Jack lying so pale and still.

Telecjian rose and said quietly: "Very well, I
will go for a doctor."

Harold eyed the man in half suspicion. He
felt sure the Syrian was a traitor,. yet; in. their
present distress, he could not neglect this one
chance in a hundred to save his friend.

"Goon! Go on then ! And— listen, Telecjian,
if you get a doctor soon, you will not lose by it."

The Syrian bowed gravely. "I will do my
best. Fortunately I have two other candles and
— this."

He drew a ball of twine from his pocket and
proceeded to tie one end of it securely around a
large loose stone.

"What 's that for?" asked Harold.

"To lead me back to you. There may be half a
mile of underground passages between this spot
and the Damascus gate. I cannot be back in less
than two hours. I will leave my coat— it 's folded
under your friend's head."

Harold looked anxiously at Jack, who had not
moved or opened his eyes for several minutes.

"Please don't wait any longer. Go as fast as

you can and bring a doctor back. Never mind
what it costs."

The Syrian bowed as before, and it seemed to
Harold that the suspicion of a smile played about
his lips, as he said: "I will leave this pistol. I
trust you will not need it, but — here, sir."

In some surprise, Harold took the pistol, which
he saw was loaded. He had several times re-
gretted leaving his own at the hotel.

"Thanks," he said. "Now go— go !"

Telecjian bowed for the last time and moved
away, unrolling the ball of twine as he went.
Fainter and fainter grew the light of his receding
candle, until it vanished in the far distance among
the shadows. And Sandy sat alone by his friend.

He sat there for a long time, thinking. What
was going to happen next ? Would the Syrian
come back with a doctor? Was he an absolute
scoundrel ? Had he himself planned this attack
or been a party to it, and if so, what was his mo-
tive? If he wanted them killed, why had he taken
care of Jack and gone for the doctor? Why had
he left the candles and the pistol, and this line of
string that might lead them safely to daylight?

Sandy studied Telecjian's pistol as if seeking
enlightenment in its shining barrel. Was it pos-
sible the Moslems had done this whole thing be-
cause of their hatred for Christians and their
anger over the desecration of their great mosque
by impious picture-taking? Was it possible the
Syrian was innocent? Had he really been at-
tacked, as he claimed ? There certainly was a cut
and a bruise on his forehead.

At this moment, Jack spoke, and his voice
sounded stronger than before. "Say, Sandy !"

"I 'm here, Jack. What can I do to help you?
I wish I could do something."

"You have. You 've shown that— you care."

"I do, Jack."

"Thanks, old boy."

He held out his hand, and Sandy took it, clum-
sily, saying, "I hope he gets that doctor here."
v "I 'm not going to need any doctor. Honest,
I 'm not. I was out for a while, but — I 'm all
right. And, anyway, there won't be any doctor."

"What?"

"Our friend won't come back. He 's skipped.
I know he won't come back."

"You can't know it, Jack."

"Yes, I can. Arshag Mesrop Telecjian won't
come back because he 's got what he wanted.
You called me easy one day. Well, we 're both
easy now. That Syrian has done us up. It 's
tough to be robbed twice in one week, but that 's
what 's happened to us. He 's got our money,
Sandy."

( To be continued. )

— ■■,. ," »■ -r ■■ ,,„ ,,

1Kb MOSQUE OF OMAR.-FROM THE PAINTING BY JULES GUER1

357

IN MEMORY OF FRANK HALL SCOTT

The fact that St. Nicholas, like all monthly
magazines, has to be made up far in advance of
the date of publication, is familiar to most of our
readers ; and the January number had gone to
press when, on November 25, 1912, a grievous loss
befell this magazine, in the sudden death, which
we here sorrowfully record, of Mr. Frank H.
Scott, the president of The Century Co. To his
fellow-workers, it was the loss of a leader who
had long been held in homage and affection. For
his business career began with that of the com-
pany itself; he had enlisted in its service when it
was first formed, and in his earliest manhood;
with the. ardent pride of youth, he took part in
the issue of the very first numbers of The Cen-
tury and St. Nicholas, some forty years ago.
From that day onward, he was a loyal helper and
wise counselor of both magazines — their stanch
supporter and far-seeing business adviser, whose

judgment, capacity, and devotion grew with their
growth ; and he rose so rapidly to great and ever
greater responsibilities that, for the last twenty
years, he has been the honored president of the
company which publishes them, and the directing
head of all its varied enterprises.

Mr. Scott was born at Terre Haute, Indiana, on
the seventh of April, 1848. He was educated in
the public schools of Richmond, Indiana, and at
the Pennsylvania Military Academy; and while
still a school-boy, he displayed keen judgment
and the pOwer of thinking for himself. Before
reaching his twenty-first year, he had shown de-
cided literary gifts, and some of the stories which
he contributed to local papers at that time are still
cherished by his friends as ample proof that he
could have made his mark as a writer. But the
claims of a publishing career had a stronger at-
traction for him than those of authorship. At the

IN MEMORY OF FRANK HALL SCOTT

359

age of twenty-two, he came to New York and
entered the business department of the newly
formed firm, Scribner & Co. Under its auspices,
the magazine then called "Scribner's Monthly"
(now The Century Magazine) was launched in
1870, with Roswell Smith at the head of its busi-
ness department, and Mr. Scott as his lieutenant
and confidential associate. In November of 1873,
the first number of St. Nicholas was issued, with
Mary Mapes Dodge as editor. In 1881, the name
of "Scribner's Monthly" was changed to The
Century Magazine ; a new company was formed,
called "The Century Co.," and Mr. Scott became
its treasurer. The new corporation continued to
publish St. Nicholas, as well as The Century,
and, within a few years, vastly enlarged its pros-
perity by the publication of The Century Dic-
tionary and of miscellaneous books. In all this
development of a great business, Mr. Scott took
an active, responsible, and prominent part, and
upon the death of Roswell Smith, in 1892, suc-
ceeded to the presidency of the company. He was
soon widely known and held in high regard by
other publishing houses; he became a director of
the American Publishers Association, and for
three years its president ; a member of the New
York Chamber of Commerce; a founder of the
Aldine Club, and once its president ; and a ves-
tryman of the Church of the Ascension. These
honors and many others came to him unsought,
and were but the spontaneous recognition of his
exceptional worth as a gifted, upright, high-
minded business man.

Nothing short of the just solution of every
problem, by lofty standards, satisfied him. "I
think it is a publisher's duty," he often said, "to
seek earnestly for the best that can be found, and
to bring out the best. Good books are sound edu-
cation, and the intimacy of good books is like the
intimacy of strong and good friendships."

And with such ideals, he was naturally a good
citizen, who made his own progress in influence
and station increasingly of service to his fellow-
men. He entered with zeal and steadfastness into
the struggle for good government in his city and
State, responding to every call when needed ;
and he won notable civic victories, frequently
prevailing over the opposition by his sound rea-
soning and remarkable persuasive powers.

His clear judgment and keen insight also added
immeasurably to his delight in fine pictures and
music, and his carefree days were happily filled

With beauty, art, taste, culture, books, to make
His hour of leisure richer.

But of all recreations, he enjoyed most, perhaps,
those that were devoted to long journeys in home

or foreign lands. Fond of the world of men and
affairs, he was also a born traveler, who loved to
indulge his taste for strange sights and unfamiliar
ways, and the bracing contact with men and types
altogether alien to the routine of his life. There
was scarce a corner of our country or of Europe
that he had not visited; and, only two years ago,
the lure of the Orient drew him across the Pacific
to Japan and China, on a holiday that was a suc-
cession of golden days.

It is possible to condense into a few sentences
the chief events of any life, but the things that
count most are not to be enumerated in "brief
biographies." And no summary of Mr. Scott's
career can give more than the merest hint of
those rare qualities of mind and heart that en-
deared him to his fellow-workers. With a gentle-
ness and dignity that were seldom even ruffled, he
combined a winning speech and manner that made
every one he met a friend, and every intimate
friend a lasting comrade. Fair-mindedness was
one of his strongest traits. His love of justice
insured to each and all a patient hearing and
thoughtful consideration. He was always and
in all circumstances the kindly, cultivated gen-
tleman.

For his associates, and those who knew him
well, his own character and all that he achieved
are his best memorial. He believed, with Emer-
son, "that the reward of a thing well done is to
have done it." His own successes were uniformly
the outcome of unassuming faithfulness and quiet
mastery. But St. Nicholas owes him a debt of
gratitude; and even if gratitude could be kept
from flowing out upon the page, it is due alike to
him and to our readers that we should here record
how largely this magazine entered into his life-
work and shared the benefits of his practical ac-
tivities. He had a special pride in St. Nicholas
— a real love for it — which made him a tireless
helper in every measure for its success and bet-
terment.

It is one of the best rewards of a life such as he
lived that it leavens all other lives that are in
close touch with it or fortunately brought within
its influence, and lifts their thoughts to higher
levels. For American boys there is abundant
inspiration in the history of Mr. Scott's progress
by his own endeavor to a position of commanding
influence and distinction in the publishing world.
And the benignant wisdom, sweetness, and se-
renity of his daily life are at once a beautiful
memory and a lasting inspiration to all those who
worked with and under him, to whom he was
always courteous, kindly, friendly, just, and by
whom he was so well beloved.

Sing, I must sing to my dear dolly, sing,

And tell her the stories of everything.

She is tired of my singing just "Sleep, dear,

sleep,"
She is tired of the song about Little Bo-Peep,
Of Little Miss Muffett, and all of the rhymes
I have sung from my picture-book dozens of
times.
Sing. I must sing to my dear dolly, sing.
And tell her the stories of everything.

Slumber, my dolly ! I 'll tell you to-night
Of trees that are blossoming rosy and white,
Of brooks where the ripples of brown water

run,
And tinkle like music and shine in the sun ;
Of nests where the baby birds sit in a heap,
And the mother sits over them when they 're
asleep.

Sing, I must sing to my dear dolly, sing.

And tell her the stories of everything.

The summer is green and the winter is white.
There is sunshine by day and starshine at

night ;
The stars are so many it cannot be told ;
The moon is of silver, but they are of gold;
The clouds are like ships, and the sky like

the sea,

Only turned upside down over dolly and me.

Sing, I must sing to my dear dolly, sing,

But I never can tell her of everything !

360

\Vhat Happened

TO THE

SquirrelFamily

by Julia Johnson

S^Hiwv

Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel and the little
squirrels lived in a big hollow tree
'way out in the woods. Their front
door opened right on the ground,
which was very nice indeed, as the
roots of the tree made the prettiest
little porch, where Mrs. Squirrel could
sit with the children.

One morning, Mr. Squirrel said to
Mrs. Squirrel:

" I believe I '11 go and see how Mr.
Owl is. He 's been quite sick for the
last few days."

" Yes, indeed ! I certainly would,"
said Mrs. Squirrel. So Mr. Squirrel put on his hat, took his cane, and started off.

Mrs. Squirrel sat on the porch a few minutes with the children after he 'd gone.
All of a sudden she looked up, and saw that the sky had become very black, and
that the wind was beginning to blow.

" Dear me ! " said Mrs. Squirrel, " I believe there 's going to be a storm. We 'd
better be going in. I do hope Mr. Squirrel won't get wet."

So Mrs. Squirrel and the children went inside and shut the door, and then
pulled down all the windows.

The rain came down hard for a while, then stopped all at once. Mrs. Squirrel
thought she 'd go out and see if Mr. Squirrel was coming. But when she tried
to open the door, it would -n't open ! She ran to the window and looked out, and
what do you suppose had happened? The wind had blown a great big broken
branch right in front of the door !

Mrs. Squirrel sat down and began to cry.

" What shall I do? Mr. Squirrel can't get in, and I can't get out. Boo hoo !
hoo ! hoo ! hoo ! "

Then the little squirrels saw her crying, and they began to cry too.

Now when Mr. Squirrel had started off to Mr. Owl's, he had n't gone very far
when he noticed that big" black cloud.

" That looks like a bad storm," said Mr. Squirrel to himself ; " I think I '11 stop
at Mr. Sparrow's until it is over."

So he went to Mr. Sparrow's and knocked, and Mr. Sparrow was very glad to
see him.

362

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK

[Feb.,

As soon as the storm was over, Mr. Squirrel hurried home instead of going to
Mr. Owl's, as he was afraid Mrs. Squirrel might be worried. And then, when he
got there, he found that great big branch right in front of his door ! He heard
Mrs. Squirrel crying, and called to her not to be frightened, as he 'd get it away
somehow. Mr. Squirrel pulled and pulled, but he was so small, and it was such
a big branch, that he could n't pull it away. Just then Mr. Rabbit walked up.

" What 's the matter, Mr. Squirrel ? "

" Oh, Mr. Rabbit ! " said Mr. Squirrel, " this branch has fallen right in front of
my door, and I can't get it away."

" Why, I '11 help you," said Mr. Rabbit.

So Mr. Squirrel pulled, and Mr. Rabbit pulled, and they pulled, and pulled, and
pulled, but they could n't get that branch away.

" W7hat 's the matter? " said a voice behind them, and there stood Mr. 'Coon.

" Oh, Mr. 'Coon ! " said Mr. Rabbit, " this branch has fallen right in front of
Mr. Squirrel's door, and we can't get it away."

" WTell, I '11 help you," said Mr. 'Coon.

So Mr. Squirrel pulled, and Mr. Rabbit pulled, and Mr. 'Coon pulled, and they
pulled, and pulled, and pulled, but they could n't get that branch away.

" Dear me, what 's the trouble ? "

They turned around, and there stood Mr. 'Possum.

" Oh, Mr. 'Possum!" said Mr. 'Coon, "this branch has fallen right in front of
Mr. Squirrel's door, and we cant get it away."

" I '11 help too," said Mr. 'Possum.

So Mr. Squirrel pulled, and Mr. Rabbit
pulled, and Mr. 'Coon pulled, and Mr.
'Possum pulled, and
they pulled, and pulled,
and pulled so hard, that
the branch gave way,
but it knocked them all
over backward. Well,

'OH, MR. RABBIT ! THIS BRANCH HAS FALLEN RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY DOOR

1913]

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK

363

"THEY HULLED SO HARD THAT THE BRANCH GAVE WAV.

Mr. Squirrel picked himself up, and Mr. Rabbit picked himself up, and Mr. 'Coon
picked himself up, but Mr. 'Possum was so fat, he could n't get up. The others
stood around and laughed at him ; then they all helped him up.

Mr. Squirrel invited them all into the house, and Mrs. Squirrel gave them the
best nut-pudding with chestnut sauce that they had ever eaten. Mr. and Mrs.
Squirrel and the little squirrels thanked Mr. Rabbit, and Mr. 'Coon, and Mr.
'Possum again and again for helping to move the branch; and when their visitors
left, the entire squirrel family stood on the porch to wave good-by to them.

AND

FORjyOUNG FOLK5

iSCICNCC

JUNCOS (IN FOREGROUND AND IN FLIGHT AT
THE RIGHT) AND TKEE-SPARROWS THAT
MAKE MANY FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF BIRDS' FEET

When our common winter birds are writing their
autographs on the light coverlet of snow, is a
good time for us not only to learn to distinguish

as many different
kinds of birds as is
possible by the tracks
that they make, but

THE WOODPECKER S FOOT IS NICELY ADAPTED
FOR CLINGING."

FOOT OF RUFFED GROUSE

In the winterthe foot of the grouse is much like a snow-shoe, the toes
acquiring a comb-like fringe on the sides, while in the summer the toes
are bare and slender.

to give a little careful consideration to the mean-
ings of the different forms of birds' feet.

We pay so much attention to the charm of its
song, the grace of its flight, its interesting habits,
and the beauty of its plumage, that seldom, if
ever, do we even think of those important parts
of the bird's body, the feet and legs. Indeed, so
far as most persons are concerned, wild birds
might have no legs at all, so slight is the notice
given to them. Occasionally, however, some con-
spicuous tracks in the snow, or the remarkable
adaptation of the foot of the ruffed grouse, with
its fringe which forms a sort of snow-shoe, com-
pel our special attention. The professional orni-
thologist regards the feet and legs as important
parts in his classification of birds, and in his
study of their habits. Most of us have a general
knowledge of the foot of the ordinary domestic
bird, as, for example, the common chicken ; but
how many can tell, without examining a chicken,
how many toes there are, in what position they
are when walking, and how many of them project
forward on the roosting perch, and how many
toward the back? If you were to hold up a
chicken and it should firmly grip your finger,
could you now tell, though you may have many
times held a chicken in this way, how many claws
would be on one side of the finger, and how many
on the other? We leave this for you to investi-
gate, and now call your especial attention to some
interesting characteristics that may lead to the
study of others.

The woodpecker's foot is nicely adapted for
clinging. All four of the toes are well developed.
Two point forward and two backward, thus giv-
ing a powerful grasp on the bark to which the
bird clings when searching for insects. But in
striking contrast to this is the foot of the fish-
hawk, with strong, curved, sharply pointed nails,
spreading widely in four directions, so that the
bird may grasp its slippery prey at points as far
apart as possible. In addition to the sharp, curved

364

NATURE AND SCIENCE EOR YOUNG FOLKS

365

nails there is a pad covered with horny spikes on
the inner surface of the claws, that undoubtedly
adds much to the ease with which the flying bird
can hold the fish.

Remarkably different from this is the jacana, a
bird found in Asia, Africa, and South America,
whose long, slender toes and nails enable it to
pass over the water on the leaves of aquatic
plants. The weight of the bird depresses these
leaves slightly beneath the surface, but not
enough to lessen the impression that the jacana is
walking on the water. When these birds go on
land, as they occasionally do, they are able to run
at great speed, but have a peculiar rocking mo-
tion from side to side, like a top-heavy omnibus,
because, when each foot is lifted, it must be
raised high in order to clear the ground. Though
it has great speed on land, its movements are
awkward, because it spends most of its time on
the water-plants to which its foot is especially
adapted.

Birds like the sparrow-hawk, which seize their

on the little animal and clinches with its sharp
claws, the mouse turns to bite, but bites only this
tuft of feathers.

THE JACANA'S FOOT.
This has very long toes and toe-nails, so that the bird can pass over the
water on the leaves of aquatic plants. These leaves sink beneath the
surface, thus giving the impression of the bird walking on the water.

victims, have long legs and claws, while those
like falcons, which strike the flying bird in mid-
air, have short stout feet with a powerful hind
claw. The old falconers were accustomed to refer
to the deadly "heel" because the bird, dropping
suddenly past its victim and striking it with the
curved hind claw, cut through skin and muscle
like a razor. In marked contrast to this is the
foot of the owl, as, for example, that of the snowy
owl, which has a dense coat of feathers on the
legs that protects them from the teeth of the mice
upon which the owl preys. When the owl springs

THE FOOT OF THF.
FISH-HAWK.

With its strong, curved
nails, the horny spikes
covering the inner surface
of the toes, and the partly
reversible outer toe, the
fish-hawk can grasp his
slippery prey at four dif-
ferent points.

But such a feathery tuft would be a disadvan-
tage to a bird like the fish-hawk. As its food is
seized in the water, the feathers would become

— ' SKkfy

, 'jS^BEjBF

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THE FOOT OF AN OSTRICH.

This has but two toes and is used as a weapon,
which will knock down a man.

It can deliver a blow

366

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Feb.,

wet and slimy. Consequently the fish-hawk's feet
and legs are bare.

Birds which wade, like the heron, have long'
legs to keep the body out of the water; while

n a photograph by C. William IJeciie.

THE FOOT OF THE SNOWY OWL HAS A DENSE COAT
OF FEATHERS.

those that swim, like the wild duck, have short
legs to prevent their feet from becoming tangled
in the water-weeds. Indeed, the presence of
weeds in those places where aquatic life abounds
and where the birds consequently go for food,
has been a very decided factor in determining the
shape of the bird's foot.

Among the swimming birds there are also
marked differences, some having pads to

strengthen the hold of the feet upon the water,
while others have saw-like appendages for cut-
ting through the water-weeds. For example, the
foot of the grebe is paddle-toed with a saw-edged
shank for cutting through these aquatic plants,
while that of the coot is lobed, or divided into
sections, thus enabling the bird to walk on land
as well as to swim. It is an interesting fact that
the legs of the grebe bend sidewise in swimming,
and thus enable it to move in shallow water with
the wide strokes of a frog. At every stroke the
long, wide paddles on each toe open and close.
Every boy knows that it is difficult to swim among
water-plants, for nature has not provided him, as
it has the grebe, with a leg edged with saw-teeth
sharp enough to cut the plants.

The ostrich has a foot with only two toes, but
when it is used as a weapon, it can deliver a blow
that will knock down a man. It also is admirably
adapted for swift running, in that respect some-
what resembling the hoof of the horse.

The feet and legs of birds can be much better
studied in the winter than in the summer, because
the foot is not so obscured by the leaves of the
tree. We suggest to our young people that they
watch the habits of the various birds that seek
insects in the crevices of the bark, and also ob-
serve the feet of the common domestic fowls and
the swimming" habits of ducks and geese.

SOME LITTLE CLAY JUGS

Attached to the under side of a protecting leaf
and gently rocked by the summer breezes, hang-
three little jugs. They resemble Mexican water-
bottles, but are not made by human hands.
Strange as it may seem, they are the work of an
insect, the potter-wasp, and are really mud cells
that serve as the nest, or home, for the young
wasps. While those shown in the illustration
were fastened to a maple leaf, they are not al-

COOT

ALBATROSS

SOME EXAMPLES OF THE "I'ADDED FEET OF SWIMMING BIRDS.

I'. I.:. J

NATURE AND SCIENCK FOR YOUNG FOLKS

367

ways so found, but often are attached singly to
twigs.

These little jugs are made of wet clay which
the parent wasp gathers for the purpose, and,
when thoroughly dry, are hard and enduring.
When a jug is finished, it is filled with small
spiders or caterpillars, that are first made dor-
mant by the sting of the wasp, but not killed, and
in each jug an egg is laid, after which the open-
ing is sealed with a little clay cork.

In a few days, the egg hatches, making a small
grub with a big appetite which it at once begins
to satisfy with the dormant spiders. The feast

THE CURIOUS NESTS OF THE POTTER-WASP.

continues for about two weeks, when the grub,
now grown to a good size, spins a cocoon, and in
this state remains for perhaps a few weeks, after
which it changes to a full-fledged wasp, and, be-
ing no longer content in its confined cpiarters, it
deliberately pushes out the little clay plug that
has closed the jug, and goes into the world to
take up its work in the great realm of nature.
And the little jugs are left deserted and empty.

George A. King.

TINY INSECTS MOST BEAUTIFUL

If our natural eyes had the power to greatly mag-
nify the tiny creatures about us without the aid

EUROPEAN PLUME-MOTH {ORNEODES HEXADACTYLA).

of microscopes, a new and entrancing world
would open to our vision. Brilliant colors, ex-
quisite delicacy, and wonderful forms are re-
vealed when some of our very small insects are
magnified. They call forth expressions of delight
and amazement from every one whose attention
is directed to them.

Methods of photographing these tiny forms
many times their original size are now practised,
and there are many treats in store for those young

PLUME-MOTH (ALCCITA PLNTADACTYLA).

naturalists who wish to engage in this most inter-
esting pastime.

By using special photographic lenses, beautifully
accurate enlargements, many times the size of the
original, can be obtained.

The accompanying pictures of some tiny
plume-moths, one of them like an exquisite fairy
fan, reveal what beauty may be seen in insects
slightly more than half an inch in the spread of
their wings.

J. G. Sanders.

368

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Feb.,

THE IMPATIENT TOUCH-ME-NOT

Here is a plant about which the botanist and the
young people agree. The scientific name is Im-
patiais, which is simply the Latin for impatient.
The young people call the same plant touch-me-
not, because the plant is, indeed, nervously im-
patient when its seed pod is touched, and responds
with a snap that throws the seeds to a distance of
many feet. It is startling, on first acquaintance,
to have the seed pod pop — go to pieces — double
itself up into a lot of spirals, and throw its con-
tents in every direction. It is fascinating, too, to
touch the ends of one pod after another as they
hang from the branches in some lowland place.
The plant is particularly fond of a brookside. It

'I HE 1'ODS OF THE TOUCH-ME-NOT AS WE FIND
THEM IN LATE AUTUMN.

may be imagination, but it has always seemed to
me that Impatiens is particularly fond of any
structure that crosses a brook, as a bridge or a
fence, especially an old stone wall. At the edge
of the bridge, or on one of the projecting stones
of the old wall, I have often amused myself by
touching these irritable pods. No matter how
many times you may have done it, you want to
try just once more, and invariably they startle
you, though you may know just what they will
do. They pop so suddenly that no amount of
anticipation will find you prepared for the explo-

sion. Their conduct is the more fascinating be-
cause they look so innocent; they appear to have
no intention other than that of any sedate seed-
vessel, but, at a certain stage of their develop-

AS "INNOCENT AND HARMLESS IN APPEARANCE
AS A CARTRIDGE.

ment, a touch sends them into a convulsion. Yet,
if you take a pair of tweezers or scissors, and
hold the stem carefully just behind the pod, you
may cut it off and lay it on a piece of paper or a
plate. When you get several in a row, like the
three shown in the accompanying illustration, for
instance, ask one of your friends to touch one.
It is somewhat like touching the first of a row
of bricks, where each one, falling upon its neigh-
bor, knocks it down. As one pod explodes, it
usually sets off the next. The third illustration

BUT TOUCH JUST THE TIP OF ONE, AND IT "EXPLODES
AND THROWS ITS SEEDS IN EVERY DIRECTION.

shows some of the strange forms into which this
impatient touch-me-not contorts itself.

I9I3-]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

369

A BEAUTIFUL FEBRUARY CONSTELLATION

You can easily find this group of stars in the sky
if you face the south, turn a little toward the
east, and then look up. You will see first a V-
shaped figure with a bright reddish star at one
end of the V. This is called Aldebaran, and is
imagined to be the eye of the Bull. The two left-
hand stars joined to the V in the map are the
tips of his horns.

The group of stars close together on the right is
called the Pleiades. Six stars can easily be seen

"The distance of Saturn from us on February
1913, will be 841,000,000 miles.
"As will be seen by the photograph, the prin-

T A^UV R u s

■ •>

•**

Drawn by Miss Jessamine White, "---.^

Vassar College Observatory. ~ -*• , ^

MAP OK TAURUS, THE BULL.

in this group, but, on a very clear night, four
more can be seen if you have good eyesight.
Directly underneath the Pleiades can be seen the
planet Saturn. To the eye, this appears like a
star, but viewed with a telescope, it will show a
round globe surrounded by a ring seen somewhat
aslant.— Caroline E. Furness, Professor of
Astronomy, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y.

SATURN AND THE PLEIADES

"The drawing shows the planet Saturn, which is
now shining in the constellation Taurus— the
Bull — as a bright yellowish star, between the
Hyades and the Pleiades.

"Saturn is a great globe some 76,000 miles in
diameter, and encircled by thin, broad rings
170,000 miles in diameter. Many considerations
tell us that these rings are made up of myriads
of bodies so minute and so distant that they
cannot be seen individually with any telescope.

"The planet and rings shine by reflecting the
light of the sun to us. Though they form im-
mense circles, the rings are never opened wider
than shown in the drawing, which closely
represents the appearance of the planet at the
present time. Every fifteen years these rings are
presented to us on edge, and they are then too
thin to be seen from the earth, and the planet
appears for a day or two shorn of its beautiful
appendages. This occurred last in 1907.
Vol. XL.-47.

A DRAWING OF SATURN.

Made by the aid of the Great Telescope of the Yerkes Observatory,
by E. E. Barnard.

cipal stars of the Pleiades are involved in dense
gaseous matter, called nebulosity, which fills the
entire cluster with wispy, shredded patches and
masses of light.

"The entire cluster is slowly drifting across
the sky toward the south and east. We say

PHOTOGRAPH OF THE PLEIADES.
Made with the ten-inch lens of the Bruce Photographic Telescope of
the Yerkes Observatory, by E. E. Barnard. Exposure three hours,
forty-eight minutes.

slowly, because it takes some years of careful
observation to detect this movement, but the real
motion must be at least many miles a second." —
Edward Emerson Barnard, Astronomer of the
Yerkes Observatory, University of Chicago.

370

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Feb.,

=CS

^"BECAUSE- WE
[WANT TO KNOW"

does holding the breath prevent a bee
from stinging?

Portland, Ore.
Dear St. Nicholas : I should like to know why it is that
a bee cannot sting a person when the person holds his breath.
I remain,

Your interested reader,

Jack Walpole.

A bee can sting a person whether that person
is holding his breath or is not, although there are
some, even those with extended experience, who
will tell you the contrary. The error is deeply
imbedded in the human mind. Some go so far as
to say that various spells, such as repeating col-
lections of strange words, will have this effect. I
have even seen it seriously maintained in print. It
is an interesting fact that all these false and ab-
surd notions are based on jokes. The secret is
this : drone honey-bees and drone wasps may be
picked up without risk, because the drone has no
sting. Many a boy has waved his hand over a
collection of wasps, and many a bee-keeper over
a cluster of honey-bees, just to play a little joke
upon his friends, and to say, "See, I can pick
them up in safety if I hold my breath, or say these
magic words." Then he picks up a drone, and
calls on the beholder to repeat the trick. And
that bystander, not having noticed the difference
between the insects, may pick up a drone. Then
the experimenter says, "Why, you can do it as
well as I can," but he keeps that person trying
until, finally, he gets the wrong bee. Then he
says, "You have not learned this trick quite so
well as I have. You need more practice."

William Hamilton Gibson, in his book "Sharp
Eyes," tells "How to Handle a Wasp." Among
many interesting things he slips in this joke:

Creep up slyly, hold your open palm within a foot of the
insect, and murmur to your inmost self the following brief
sentiment :

Polistes! Polistes! bifrons! .proponito faciem!
and wait until the insect turns toward you, which it is more
or less certain to do ; then, with a quick clutch, grasp your
prize. It is not necessary to hold your breath or wet your
fingers, as is commonly supposed ; the above classic charm
will work quite as well without. After holding the insect
in the hollow of your hand for a moment, take him boldly
between your fingers, roll him, pull him, squeeze him, and
twirl him as you will ; no amount of abuse will induce him
to sting. Perfect faith in the above will enable any one to
handle a wasp with impunity.

P. S. I almost forgot to mention that it is always safest
to experiment with -white-faced wasps, as these are drones,
and have no sting.

a horned toad as a pet

Albion, Ind.
Dear St. Nicholas: In "Nature and Science" of
St. Nicholas for September, I read a letter about an
experience with horned toads.

A former pupil of Papa's sent us a horned toad from
Oklahoma. At first we were rather afraid, but in a little
while we became much attached to him. He learned his
name, and would come when we called him. One day he
was up-stairs. After a while, we could not see him, and,
after looking for him, we found him on the landing of the
stairs. He had gone down five steps to get there. He
seemed to enjoy music, for when any one played on the
piano, he would raise his head and listen. He lived for
seven months after we received him. Once or twice we
saw him catch a fly or a small beetle and eat it.
Very truly yours,

Margaret Earle.

are there people on mars?

New York City.
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please answer a question?
Are there people living on Mars?

G. P. LUDLAM, II.

In regard to the question of the possibility of
there being some form of life on the planet Mars,
the truth is that nobody knows anything what-
ever about it. If life on our own world has
gradually developed into the forms we know
through long and slight changes throughout the
ages as conditions here have continually and
gradually changed, we can, of course, form no
conception of what might have come about if
these changes had been in a different direction
from what they were. It is quite conceivable
that, in that case, life might have continued to
exist, even though the final conditions became
such that all life as we know it would be im-
possible.

If it be asked whether any known forms of
life might exist if they were transferred to Mars,
the answer is equally unknown to us. Both on
account of its small size and of its distance from
the sun, the temperature of that world should be
very low, unless what air there is there is a far
better "blanket" than our own. This is, pf
course, not impossible, but we have absolutely
no evidence one way or the other.

Mercury, Venus, and Mars are the only three
solid worlds in our solar system beside our own ;
the other four are doubtless so hot that they are
still in the form of vapor. Of these three, it is
more probable that the life of our world could
continue to exist better on Venus than on either
of the two others, but we have no evidence in
regard to any of them.

Speculation as to whether life could be de-
veloped in the absence of much that seems to us
essential for it, is for the biologist rather than
for the astronomer.— Professor Eric Doolittle,
University of Pennsylvania.

I9I3-]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

371

"WHY DROPS OF LIQUID ARE SPHERICAL

Little Compton, R. I.
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please tell me why almost
any liquid, when it drops, takes the form of a sphere?
Your interested reader,

Frances Kinghorn.

In order to explain the tendency of drops of
liquid to become shaped like a sphere, it will be
necessary to speak of a peculiarity which every
liquid surface possesses. This is its power of

DROPPING ALCOHOL BETWEEN TWO STICKS TO WEAKEN
THE SURFACE FILM OF THE WATER.

contracting. If you will dip a camel's-hair brush
into water and then withdraw it, you will see that
the slender bristles are all drawn down together to
a point. This is due to the fact that the water
clinging to the brush is drawn inward by the
contracting of the outside surface film. We
make use of this phenomenon when we moisten
the end of a thread before putting it through the
eye of a needle.

Now, the film of water which makes a soap-
bubble, pulls the bubble into just as small a vol-
ume as it can. It contracts until the air within
the bubble has such a shape as to require the least
surface film to inclose it. Now this form is al-
ways a sphere. So the surface film of a water-
drop will contract until it has forced the water
inside into such a form as to have the smallest
outside area. Hence the spherical form of drops.

Many interesting experiments can be made
upon this remarkable characteristic of liquids.

For example, cut a small, boat-shaped piece of
cardboard or wood about an inch and a half long.
In a V-shaped notch, cut in the stern, place a
piece of camphor gum slightly larger than the
head of a pin. Now lay the boat carefully upon
the surface of the water, being sure the camphor
touches the liquid. If everything is correct, the
boat will move forward as though a tiny thread
were pulling at its bow. The dissolving camphor
lessens the contractive force of the water at the
rear of the boat, and so the force of contraction
at the bow pulls the boat ahead.

Another way is to float two wooden toothpicks
or small bits of wood about half an inch apart on
water, and then, with a medicine dropper, allow
a small drop of alcohol to fall in the space be-
tween the toothpicks. These pieces of wood will
immediately fly apart as though a miniature ex-
plosion had taken place. The alcohol, upon mix-
ing with the water, weakens the contractive force
of the water surface between the bits of wood.
The force here is no longer able to balance the
contractive force on the outside trying to pull the
pieces apart. Hence the objects are pulled sud-
denly away from each other.

Our daily experience is filled with cases of the
action of this force, which is known to scientists
as surface tension. The action of water in laying
dust is due to surface tension. The form of dew-
drops and a small globule of water on a smooth
piece of paper is due to this same force. —
Professor F. R. Gorton, Ypsilanti, Michigan.

The particles of which liquids are made up can
move rather easily. This distinguishes liquids
from solids, where the particles stick together
more or less firmly. But even with liquids there
is a little tendency for the particles to stick to-
gether, and to hold each other. Drops are formed
when small amounts of liquid fall through the air
because the particles hold together strongly
enough to overcome the resistance of the air
through which they are passing. Drops are
spherical because all parts of the liquid in them at-
tract each other equally, and because the particles
are free to move. A drop cannot be made larger
than a certain size, and this size varies with dif-
ferent liquids according to their stickiness. If
you dip a match stick into water and then with-
draw it, you will find that the drop at the end
will fall when it reaches a certain size. If you
use alcohol, you will find that the drops are
smaller, and with a thick liquid, such as tar or
honey, the drops will be larger. This shows that
it. is the stickiness of the liquid which helps the
"forming of drops, and that all liquids have some
of this property of "stickiness." — Professor H.
L. Wells, New Haven, Connecticut.

NICHO

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■— S£^_

FEBRUARY

"A HEADING FOR FEBRUARY." BY ALEXANDER LIPINSKY, AGE 16. (SILVER BADGE.)

Much has been written and sung about "The Call of the
Wild " since Mr. Jack London's story made its title a
familiar phrase, but the League pages this month give
ample proof that it offered an inspiring theme for our
young poets. Several of the pieces of verse received are
really notable, such as the fine sonnet on the opposite
page, and the two poems on page 377 — one the weird
lament of a caged wolf, and the other a ringing ballad.
And then, too, there are some very clever valentine verses,
showing daintiness, sentiment, humor, or all combined.
In truth, this is a banner month for our young rhymers,
who have done exceedingly well. And the editor feels it
a personal grievance, a cause of keen regret, that many
little poems almost equaling these in merit or charm were
crowded out by lack of space.

There has been a close race, also, in this February num-
ber, between our pictorial contributors — the artists and the
camera lovers. The talented young draftsmen of the
League supply some very clever drawings, clever not only

on the technical side, but also in idea or design. Naturally
enough, many of our girl and boy photographers took the
subject "A Flying Start" quite literally, and as a result
we have several admirable and unusual pictures of flying-
machines or hydro-aeroplanes just beginning.their flight.

The prose-writers also win their full share of the honors
of this month's competition by a series of excellent 'essays
on " My Favorite Character in Fiction " ; and the contri-
butions covered a wide range of good literature.

There seems to be an uncertainty in the minds of some
new League folk as to the term "Honor Member." An
Honor Member is a contributor who has won both the gold
and the silver badge. But as to these prizes, we must
explain, again, that the silver badge must be won first.
Whenever the sender of a poem, story, photograph, or
drawing is credited with a gold badge, it means that he or
she has already achieved the silver badge. To bring out
this point more clearly, we shall add, in brackets, hereafter,
the date when the silver badge was won.

PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 156

In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.

PROSE. Gold badge, Eleanor Steward Cooper (age 17), Lansdowne, Pa.

Silver badges, Margaret M. Barker (age 14), Columbus, O. ; John K. Stafford (age 12), Millbrook, N. Y. ; Dora

Holmyard (age 16), Cincinnati, O. ; Esther Whited (age 16), Ashland, Ore. ; Edith M. Levy (age 13), New York City.

VERSE. Gold badges, Grace Noerr Sherburne (age 16), Melrose, Mass. ; B. Cresswell (age 16), Coventry, Eng.

Silver badges, John C. Farrar (age 16), Burlington, Vt. ; Eleanor Hebblethwaite (age 11), Reigate, Eng.; Hilda

Buttenwieser (age 12), Cincinnati, O.

DRAWINGS. Silver badges, Alexander Lipinsky (age 16), New York City; Robert Riggs (age 16), Decatur, 111. ;

Hester Noyes (age 16), Winchester, Mass. ; Emma Stuyvesant (age 15), St. Louis, Mo.

PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badge, Howard Sherman (age 12), New York City.

Silver badges, Albert Baruch (age 13), San Francisco, Cal. ; Kenneth D. Smith (age 16), West New Brighton, N.Y. ;

Willis K. Jones (age 16), Auburn, N. Y. ; Wade Werden (age 15), Mason, Wis. ; Anna G. Tremaine (age 14),

Kenmore, N. Y.

PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badges, Elizabeth Land (age 13), Syracuse, N. Y. ; Gustav Deichmann (age 13), New

York City; Margaret M. Horton (age 14), Atlanta, Ga.

PUZZLE ANSWERS. Gold badge, Dorothy Belle Goldsmith (age 15), New York City.

Silver badges, Evelyn Fassett (age 17), Oakland, Cal. ; Ruth Ehrich (age 13), New York City.

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

373

THE CALL OF THE WILD

BY GRACE NOERR SHERBURNE (AGE l6l

{Gold Badge)
The trackless forest peaceful is and still,

Day's last shy rays, reluctant, pierce the green ;

The ripple of a rivulet unseen
Mingles its music with the bluebird's trill.
The pines upon the summit of the hill

Whisper and sigh and nod with stately mien,

Then all is hushed until a note serene
Doth break the stillness ; 't is the whippoorwill.

In bold relief against the evening sky,

Where sunset gleams still linger, loath to flee,
Each mountain peak is outlined, sharp and clear.

Belated song-birds, hastening homeward, fly,
White scud mists rise like spray far out at sea,
The hermit-thrush sings softly, "Night is near."

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN FICTION—
AND WHY

BY ELEANOR STEWARD COOPER (AGE 1 7)

{Gold Badge)
In Abdallah the Bedouin lay that singleness of devotion
to a high ideal which unifies and clarifies the scattered
and alloyed good which is in most men by right of their
inherent nature. By inheritance, surroundings, training,
and tradition, he was peculiarly blessed in influences
which tend to produce strength of character and seri-
ousness and clearness of mind. The desert, with its
mysterious and terrible dangers, bred courageous and
unaffectedly pious men, who learned to pray, not as if
cowering beneath the lash of brute nature, but as spirits
in league with its spirit. Abdallah was born of a people
who for long centuries had been so affected by their
surroundings. He lived in the midst of the agencies
that had made his fathers what they were, and which
strengthened in him his native instincts. When, in his
early manhood, he heard of the four-leafed clover, the
mystic symbol of absolute good, whose leaves had been

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A FLYING START. BY ALBERT BARUCH, AGE 13.

(SILVER BADGE.)

scattered and lost through weak curiosity, he was ripe
to conceive of reuniting them by the magnetism of his
own personality.

He possessed the rare and saving gift of vision that
sees a goal beyond the present goal, and is not to be
blinded to the ultimate and highest aim of all. He pos-
sessed an equally happy and equally rare disposition to

seek in the lesser work the accomplishment of the
greater. Through much labor and suffering, he won
the desired leaves one by one, but always indirectly out
of his daily life and duty.

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN FICTION—
AND WHY

BY MARGARET M. BARKER (AGE 1 4)

{Silver Badge)
My favorite character in fiction is Jo in "Little Wo-
men." Jo is so funny, so original, and so queer, that

"A FLYING START." BY HOWARD SHERMAN, AGE 12.
(GOLD BADGE.)

when I read "Little Women" (and I have read it many
times), I am always more interested in Jo than either
Meg, Beth, or Amy. Meg is a fascinating character,
Beth is very sweet, and Amy very amusing, but awk-
ward, lively Jo, with her queer ways and her love for
books, is to me the most interesting character I have
ever read about in fiction.

I like the time in which this story was written.
Wartimes are very exciting, and Jo's longing to be a
boy, so that she may go and fight with her father, is
very comical. She laments being a girl, who "can only
sit at home and knit like a poky old lady," as she says.

But Jo's part in the story is not all funny. It is sad
where she sells her hair to help her father, and acts so
bravely before all the family ; but when she is alone
with Meg, she breaks down and cries because of the loss
of her "only beauty." Jo is so natural and lifelike,
that you do not feel as if she were a character in a
book, only a girl in fiction.

I admire Jo for her pluck and perseverance, for her
kind heart, and good-natured, frank ways.

So, for these reasons, my favorite character in fiction
is Jo March in Miss Alcott's "Little Women."

MY VALENTINE

BY ELIZABETH MILLER (AGE Ii)

The big boy said to the little one

(On Valentine's Day, bright and fair),
"To whom will you send your postal-card
You are holding so carefully there?"

The small one looked up with a proud little smile,

As he held up his postal fine,
"The loveliest lady in all the world ;
My mother 's my valentine."

374

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Feb.,

TO MY VALENTINE

BY HELEN A. MONSELL (AGE 1 7)

Saint Valentine's is coming,

The love time of the year, dear ;
So, while love's flames light up the sky,
And Cupid's arrows round us fly,
I '11 sing my song to you, dear.

u :.a

m&8m

remans

19JJ

"A HEADING FOR FEBRUARY." BY ROBERT RIGGS, AGE 16.
(SILVER BADGE.)

Dan Cupid is a roguish lad

Whom many people flee, dear ;
His shafts to every realm are sent,
Full dangerous, oft, is his intent;
But he never troubles me, dear.

For Cupid's bow I do not fear,
Although his aim be true, dear ;

Since long ago you took my heart,

I have no target for his dart —
I 've given it to you, dear.

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN FICTION—
AND WHY

BY JOHN K. STAFFORD (AGE 12)

{Silver Badge)
One must admit that, there being so many characters in
fiction, it is a difficult task to decide which is his fa-
vorite character.

But when a man has such high morals, and possesses

the qualities nec-
essary to make a
man count in this
world as Ulysses
did, there is little
doubt as to whether
or not he deserves
to be a favorite
character.

Homer, the old
Greek poet, wrote
about Ulysses in
the Iliad, and the
Odyssey is com-
posed wholly of
Ulysses's jour-
neyings.

On the isle of
the Cyclops, but
for Ulysses's con-
stant watchfulness and wise bravery, he and all of his
men would have died.

Only for the wisdom of Ulysses, Troy could never
have been taken, and his wisdom and his ability to per-
form his tasks are clearly shown in the many times his
own and his men's lives were endangered.

A FLYING START. BY WILLIS K. JONES,

AGE 16. (SILVER BADGE.)

At Circe's isle, and when passing the Sirens, also at
Apollo's island, and in every place and under every
circumstance, he proved to be a man who could never
be taken off his guard, lose his good sense, or in any
respect show anything but that which belongs to a
manly man.

These are the reasons for my thinking that Ulysses,
King of Ithaca, is a fitting character to be a favorite
over all others.

DE CALL OF DE WIL'
{French Canadian Lumberman's Song)

BY JOHN C. FARRAR (AGE 16)

{Silver Badge)
De bon Dieit know' I lak de town
Wid all de people gadder' roun' ;
But mos' of all I t'ink I lak
De wood at night — great, beeg, an' black !

De tree' dey lif dere trunk' up far,
An' talk wid all de shinin' star' ;
An' somet'ing grip' me — hoi' me tight !
I love de fores' in de night.

An', somehow, ev'ryt'ing seem' fine,
An' all de reevaire is moonshine.
Den, sometime, heaven seem' so near,
Ver', ver' near, oui, an' ver', ver' dear.

«=-•*--'•

FLYING START. BY KENNETH D. SMITH,

(SILVER BADGE.)

De bon Dieu know' I lak de town,
Wal — lak to take a look aroun' ;
But after while I 's lon'ly when
I needs my fores' back again.

MY FAVORITE. CHARACTER IN FICTION—
AND WHY

BY DORA HOLMYARD (AGE 1 6)

{Silver Badge)
Within the green covers of my dearest book friend,
"David Copperfield," dwells my favorite character in
fiction, Tommy Traddles.

Traddles makes his first appearance at Mr. Creakle's
school. A fat boy, with bristly hair inclined to stand
on end, whose sky-blue suit fits him so tightly that his
arms and legs look like German sausages.

He is the "merriest and most miserable of all the
boys" ; always in "hot water, continually being caned,
if not for his own offenses, for his schoolmates'." Noth-

I9I3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAOUE

375

ing seems to put a damper on his merry antics, or
nothing can sour his happy nature.

When next we meet Traddles, he has grown to man-
hood. In shabby, dingy chambers, he is studying law.
He is the same honest, unfortunate, good-natured Trad-
dles of yore, but he will never be a great man. He is
not what is termed a "hustler."

He is engaged to a girl named Sophy, "a curate's
daughter, one out of ten, down in Devonshire," and,
as he often remarks to his friend David, "I assure you,
my dear Copperfield, the dearest girl in the world." It
may be a long, long time before they marry, but "How-

" STRANGERS." BY MARGARET BRATE, AGE l6. (HONOR MEMBER.)

ever, wait and hope !" says Traddles, and already they
possess two articles toward their housekeeping, a
flower-pot and a small marble-topped table !

I think the reason that Traddles is my favorite char-
acter in fiction is that he is so perfectly natural and
lovable, as most of Dickens's characters are. They seem
so real that it is hard to believe they are only inani-
mate story-book people, and not our human friends of
flesh and blood. There are so many of the "Tommy
Traddles" type, and each has his "dearest girl in the
world !"

THE CALL OF THE WILD

BY ARTHUR H. NETHERCOT (AGE I 7)

Bobby sat still in a chair on the porch,

Waiting for Mother to come ;
Told, "Now stay there without moving an inch."

Already his muscles were numb.

Mother was donning her prettiest frock,

Dressing to call on a friend.
Bob, sitting fidgeting there all alone,

Thought dressing time never would end.

A butterfly fluttered inside of the screen ;

'T would be kind of him if he released it,
Bob thought, so he gently pushed open the door.

Thank goodness, some one had greased it !

The butterfly zigzagged over the lawn ;

Bob could not resist the temptation.
The butterfly perched on the limb of a tree

(Which Mother had said every day, "Shun").

Bob thrust a curious hand in a hole ;

The bees living there were quite riled.
Far and wide, near and far, over country and vale,

Echoed — the call of the wild !

THE CALL OF THE WILD

BY ELEANOR HEBBLETH WAITE (AGE II )

{Silver Badge)
"Tweet, tweet," he chirped. "Oh, let me out !
I long to fly the woods about ;
The wild wood calls me, I must fly,
Or in this prison I shall die !"
He heard a bird sing loud and sweet,
His tiny wings he wildly beat.
Those cruel bars ! So thick, so strong,
That if he fluttered all day long,
His helpless wings no mark would make
Upon the wire he could not break.
And when night fell, between the bars,
He thought he saw the twinkling stars.
His troubled sleep was full of dreams
Of fair green grass and rippling streams,
Of beeches swaying in the breeze,
And cozy nests in tall, green trees.
His heart was filled with wild desire,
Poor prisoner in a cage of wire !

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN FICTION—
AND WHY

BY ESTHER WHITED (AGE 16)

{Silver Badge)
My favorite character in fiction does not possess many
of the attributes which literary people seem to think
one should inherently con- -

nect with his best-loved <^E
"book people." That is to /SI
say, she does not particu-
larly imbue one with feelings

"STRANGERS." BY MAKGARE I CONTY, AGE 16. (HONOR MEMBER. )

of great enthusiasm, or make him love nature, or make
him long to paint a great picture, or write a great book.
It is almost as impossible to tell why one loves a
person in a book as it is to give adequate reasons for
loving one who is out of a book. It is with this feeling
that I try to tell why I like Alice, of "Alice in Wonder-
land," better than any book character I know. Perhaps
the reason for my love of her is best expressed in one
word : she is so human. She thinks and acts as any
ordinary little girl would on finding herself in a strange

376

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Feb.,

country where the King and Queen of Hearts ruled, and
animals and strange people of all sorts were their sub-
jects. Her childish thoughts and actions are so natural
that one feels just as she feels ; he wonders at what she
wonders at ; he laughs with her ; cries with her. With-
al, there is such a feeling of easy comradeship that he
is sorry when the card house tumbles down, and Alice

"a flying start." by wade werden, age 15. (silver badge.)

returns from Wonderland, to find herself lying in her
sister's lap, with the sound of the tea dishes rattling in
the distance.

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN FICTION—
AND WHY

BY EMILY S. STAFFORD (AGE 15)

Of the many beautiful characters in fiction, my favorite
is a little girl of ten. She is the main character in
Mrs. Burnett's dearest of stories, "The Secret Garden."
Cross, sour little Mary, of India, who, in spite of her
many servants to do her bidding, had never known
what it was to be loved. Not until she had found her-
self all alone in the world, and was sent to live with
her uncle, who
would almost for-
get that she ex-
isted, did she, of
her own accord,
begin to change.
Before the sum-
mer can come, the
frost must leave
the ground, which
must have sun-
shine to make it
soft and warm.
And so with Mary.
There began to be
little rays of sun-
shine in her heart,
and the cold, icy
manner had to flee,
and they melted
and warmed the
hard little heart,
till, at last, the
flowers began to grow. They grew in the form of the
merry laugh, the gay, childish voice, the kind, unselfish
ways that blossomed forth in this same little Mary. It
was Mary who found the way to the "secret garden,"
and, with the help of the kind boy, Dickon, planted the
flowers there. It was Mary who found her sick cousin,
Colin, and it was she who so filled his mind with the
springtime that he, too, began to love the garden. It
was through Mary that he began to walk, and at last to

G ST\RT. BY ANNA G. TREMAINE,

\GE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)

run. It was through Mary that he began to be a happy,
nature-loving boy. Lastly, when the sad father came
home, he, too, was changed into a glad, normal man —
all through the childish influence of my favorite char-
acter in fiction.

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN FICTION—
AND WHY

BY SUSAN C. ERWIN (AGE II)

I have so many favorite characters, and they are all so
different, that this is a hard subject to write upon ; and
yet I believe, just at present, my favorite character is
the little heroine in St. Nicholas's beautiful story
"The Lucky Sixpence."

Beatrice, the little English maid, was so gentle and
timid, and yet at times she was so brave and firm, that
you could hardly realize it was the same frightened lit-
tle girl that started on the long voyage which proved
to be the turning-point in her whole life.

She was clever too, and many times she outwitted the
ever-suspicious British soldiers with her self-possessed
and calm, bright speeches.

And one scene that stands out very clearly in my
mind is the one in
which she could hardly
decide whether to stand
up for her country or
to treat a friend with
disloyalty. That was
the one in which she
displayed much of her
calmness and ingenuity.

There were many
other fine characters in
the story. Little, lisp-
ing Peggy was a dear
little thing, and the
many war episodes
make the story very
interesting.

But the thing I like
the best about this lit-
tle heroine is that,
though she was very
brave and fearless, I
think she was the kind
of little girl that could make a very nice playmate.

I always read "The Lucky Sixpence" aloud to
Grandma, and I think she is just as much interested in
my little heroine as I am.

THE CALL OF THE WILD

BY LUCY A. MACKAY (AGE 13)

There was a spirit in the breeze

That told me secrets sweet,
Of flowers, and trees, and meadows calm,

And fields of golden wheat;
Of waterfalls, and brooks, and glens,

And birds so clearly singing ;
And in my heart this sweet, wild call

Continued, ever ringing.

There was a spirit in the breeze

That sang about the sea,
Where little craft ran through the waves,

In hopes of taking me
Across the deep, that wondrous blue

O'er which the gulls were flying,
And in my heart, like gentle waves,

That sweet, wild call kept sighing.

' STRANGERS. BY EDITH B. PRICE,

AGE 15. (HONOR MEMBER.)

IQI3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

377

THE CALL OF THE WILD

BY LUCILE E. FITCH (AGE l6)

(Honor Member)
Caged ! I shall go mad within this place :

How civilization scorches with its breath !

All night I howl and look and long for death,
As back and forth I tread this narrow space.
That wan star points above the frozen north,

And I have fixed my flaming eyes on it ;

With all the fire of wolfish breed relit,
I let my longing, unheard cries go forth.

— Call not. I cannot come, O Wilderness !

To fly once more, lord of the hungering pack,
Across the silent snows with winged feet !
Where fields on fields of blinding whiteness meet.

To scent the giant caribou's soft track !

Or, 'neath the glory of the Northern Lights,
When all the brooding darkness lies athrill,
To point the keen nose heavenward and fill

With mournful incantations the weird nights.
Oh, what a torture 't is to be not free
When all the awful Wild is beckoning me !
— Call not. I cannot come, O Wilderness !

MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN FICTION—
AND WHY

BY EDITH M. LEVY (AGE 13)

(Silver Badge)
As I sit beside the fire, thinking, thinking hard, before
me rises a group of chosen heroes and heroines, seem-
ing, from out of the flames, to beckon to me to choose
my favorite.

King Richard and Rebecca from "Ivanhoe" hold my
attention for some time, and so does dashing Jack
Brereton from "Janice Meredith," and the Count of
Monte Cristo, and lots of war-time heroes and their
brides.

Suddenly they all seem to melt into one picture — ■
Sydney Carton at the guillotine. Reluctantly I leave the
others, but to him I
must give the prefer-
ence.

At the beginning of
"A Tale of Two Cities,"
no one can like him, for
Dickens only shows the
vulgar, ignorant side
of his character ; he
was a diamond in the
rough, and had many
grave faults. But his
noble, unselfish traits
overbalanced the others
in the eyes of his
friends.

What can be more
brave than the way in
which he gave up his
sweetheart to a friend
whom she loved better,

Darnay ? What more unselfish than to restore happi-
ness to her he loved, by taking the place of her husband,
and dying for him? And not only did he die for Lucie,
but he lived without her cheerfully and bravely.

I have and will often read of characters more clever,
more dashing, more fascinatingly brilliant, but ever in
my heart will I carry the picture of Carton at the guil-
lotine, dying so heroically and unselfishly.
Vol.. XL.— 48.

STRANGERS. BY CHARLOTTE
TOUGAS, AGE 17.

THE CALL OF THE WILD

BY B. CRESSWELL (AGE l6)

(Gold Badge)
From the treeless waste to the level plain ; where the

salt sea-breezes blow ;
Where the bitterns croak o'er the wind-swept cliffs and

the breakers beat below ;
From the empty spaces of the earth, the call of the wild

rings through,
And makes the blood like a mountain flood taking its

course anew.

STRANGERS. BY ADELE MOWTON, AGE 13.

When the crazy storm-king's anthem rings midst the

drift and the flying foam,
And voices speak from logs that creak, oh, it 's grand to

be at home ;
And fine to sit with a pleasant book by the ingle's

merry glare,
While the raindrops patter against the pane, and the

wind god beats the air.

But it 's grander still where the zephyrs sweep, and the

sea fiends leap at play,
And the lightning cuts with an argent knife through the

wide aerial way ;
And high above in the forest slope, the giant timbers

groan,
And the loud swish-swish of the falling rain springs up

in an eery moan.

While the long, dark files of inky clouds, all clothed in

their sable mail,
Hear the laugh of the wind as it tears along with the

force of an angry gale,
'T is the call of the wild that is echoing through the

picture ; and it frames
A wild desire for a roaming life, that many a wanderer

claims.

From the lumber camp to the Orient coasts, where
Moslem rites obtain,

Wherever a wave-washed island floats, in a coppery-
colored main ;

Wherever an outpost guards a pass, and "the old rag"
beats the air,

And loyal hearts still guard it well — the "call of the
wild" is there.

Where the sleigh-bells peal across the snow, in the land

of the Russian czars,
Or a bushman sleeps 'neath the southern cross, with an

oversheet of stars,
The call of the wild is calling still ; it stirs in the very

bone ;
It leads us on in Stanley's prints, and the steps of

Livingstone.

378

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Feb.,

TO MY VALENTINE

BY HILDA BUTTENWIESER (AGE I Z)

{Silver Badge)
In spring, when all the earth wakes up,

And joy is in the air ;
When showers fill the tulip's cup,

And fruit-trees blossom fair ;

The woods were dark and the stars were pale,

The dreamy silence had brooded long,
Till lo ! it broke, when a nightingale,

Poured out his voice in liquid song.
The same glad song that the brook had sung,

The same wild song that the wind had sung,
And they sang in the same sweet, unknown tongue,

The song they sang when the world was young.

In summer, when the air is sweet
With perfume of the flow'rs ;

When crickets chirp around our feet,
And birds haunt leafy bow'rs ;

'STRANGERS." BY HESTER NOYES, AGE 16. (SILVER BADGE.)

In autumn, when the wild, west wind
Doth whirl the withered leaves ;

When fields with pumpkins gay are lined,
And corn is stacked in sheaves ;

In winter, when the snow drifts deep,

And frosty is the air ;
When Mother Nature lies asleep,

And all is ghostly bare ;

In all these seasons, warm and cold,

I long to call thee mine,
Forever in my heart to hold

Thee, precious Valentine !

THE CALL OF THE WILD

BY FLORA MC D. COCKRELL (AGE 12)

{Honor Member')
The brooklet raced through the shady wood,

And laughed aloud in its careless glee ;
It sang to the maple-trees where they stood,

And told the joy of being free.
They seemed to listen to hear its song,

To droop their branches that grew so tall
To hear its song as it raced along,

And the ceaseless plash of its waterfall.

The wind was sighing among the trees,

A restless whisper that seemed a song,
The sighing song of a fitful breeze

That changed its mood as it swept along.
It sang a song of the endless sky,

It sang of seas that were broad and deep,
Till its song changed into a lullaby,

And the stirring wood dropped away to sleep.

MY VALENTINE

BY BRUCE T. SIMONDS (AGE 17)

{Honor Member)
"Thy locks are touched with living gold,
And radiant are thy starry eyes,
Like those of angels aureoled,

Who sing for joy in Paradise !
How may I dare aspire to thee,

0 lovely maiden, most divine !
I scarce can utter, 'Wilt thou be

My Valentine?' "

And yet — her hair is really red,

A kind of dirty, brassy shade ;
And as for starry eyes — instead,

They 're crossed a little, I 'm afraid ;
She laughs, and gives a wide display

Of every yellow, tusk-like tooth ; —
'T is very hard to write, and say
The ugly truth !

But still the time was wisely spent,

For when she reads 't will warm her heart ;

She '11 know by whom the verse was sent,
And make a luscious jelly-tart.

When I taste that — and hers are fine ! —

1 '11 think of joys I once forsook
To write to her, my Valentine,

Our homely cook !

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

Kathryn B. Fowler
Beatrice Clephane
Eliza A. Peterson
Mary A. Wilkes
Naomi Lauchheimer
Elmer H. Van Fleet
Dorothy M. Russell
Edith D. Weigle

Ruth B. Brewster
Elbert C. Price
Elizabeth W. Kennedy
Alice Lee Tully
Berenice G. Hill
Caroline Smith
Doris Gardner
Paul Ford
Fleeta Dudley
Vernie Peacock

" STRANGERS." BY LILLIS WATSON, AGE 12.

Thyrza Weston
Anna Libman
Julia M. Herget
Edgar Gibbs
Frances D.

Pennypacker
Edith V. Manwell
Elizabeth Finley
Rosalind P. Bigelow

Louise Gorey
Ruth S. Abbott
Rosebud Segal
Katharine W. Ball
Evelyn A. G. Kelly
Helen A. Dority
Marcelle Ellinger
Rebecca H. Wilder
Rose F. Cushman

Mary E. Nash
Clara Snydacker
Susan B. Nevin
Margaret Cundill
Winifred S. Stoner, Jr.

PROSE, 2

Vernon P. Williams
Maybelle B. Wood
Madeleine Moller
Phyllis Speer
Marion Dacy
Elda Brun
Marian Ansbacher
Lawton Filer
Louis Schwartz
Lucy R. M. Ball
Madelyn H. Stafford
Virginia A. Leffler
B. Gumpert
Mary F. Sharpies

VERSE, 1

Fannie C. Butterfield
Janet Hepburn
Elizabeth S. Moore
Ethel M. Feuerlicht
Pauline Boisot
Gladys M. Muller
Mary J. Smith
Hazel M. Chapman
Watson Davis

I9I3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

379

Katherine Bull

Marian Thanhouser
Elizabeth Macdonald
Elgin F. Hunt
Margaret Finck
Renee Geoffrion
Elsie E. Glenn
Eleanor M. Sickels
Kathryn Hulbert
Anna R. Payne
Doris R. Wilder
Alice Trimble
Thelma L. Kellogg
Ruth Chalmers
Grace Freese
Mildred Willard
Gwynne A. Abbott
Bertha E. Walker
Doris F. Halman
Eleanor Perkins
Doris Packard
Mary Smith
Georgene Davis
Harriet A. Wickwire
Ellen M. Janson
Catherine C. Robie
Margaret C. Bland
Edwina R. Pomeroy
Frances Duggar
Caryl Peabody
Eleanor Johnson
Robert A. Aubin
Lilian M. Miller
Jeannette Ridlon
Nellie M. Gutzke
Philip A. La Vie
Vivienne Witherbee
Evelyn H. Dunham
Florence Gallagher
Helen F. Smith
Laura Hadley
Hester D. Nott
Helen S. Clift
Ceschella B. del Monte
Ruth Hoag
Horace Woodmansee
Angela Porter

VERSE, 2

Mary S. Benson
Carolyn Ladd
Polly M. Gorringe
Lloyd Dinkelspiel
Nelson Munson
Jessie M. Carlin
Caroline F. Ware
Anna M. Riddell
Mary H. Bosworth
Jessie M. Thompson
Helen Beeman
Margaret F. Jennison
Millicent H. Lewis
Olga B. Weil
Mildred W. Longstreth
Edith C. Brill
Georgina Yeatman
Anita Lindemann
Mattie Hibbert

DRAWINGS, i

Harry Till
Isabella B. Howland
Katharine Schwab
Gladys E. Livermore
Catharine H. Grant
Clara Holder
Jessie E. Alison
Elizabeth E. Sherman
Frances Koewing
Heather F. Burbury
Evelyn Caldwell

Beatrice Rifflard
Genevieve Farner
Natalie Scott
Joseph B. Morse, Jr.
Gladys Wright
Marjorie Flack
Florence Fisk
Constance Wilcox
Frances M. E. Patten
Dorothy Hughes

DRAWINGS, 2

Leon McKenney
Eleanor Pearsall
S. Dorothy Bell
Curtis E. Hamilton
Kedma Dupont
Margaret Grandgent
Dorothy Scarborough
Margery Ragle
Alice M. Hughes
Jessie Wilson
Esther Wilson
James Herbert
Venette M. Willard
Lily E. Madan
Bess Winston
Jean Snyder
Nada Spratlen

Patrina M. Colis
Cornelia T. Crane
Marguerite B. Bernard

PHOTOGRAPHS, 2

B. Estrada
Margaret Leathes
Richard L. Cooch
Daniel B. Benscoter
Katharine W.

Townsend
A. B. Buttfield
Marjorie Mitchell
Mamie Juel
W. Coburn Seward, Jr.
Gordon L. Kent
Catharine Weaver
Elwyn B. White
Rhoda B. Laurence
Madelaine Brown
Margaret R. Ladd

PUZZLES, 1

Edith Pierpont

Stickney
Katherine Browne
Elizabeth D. Noyes
Marjorie V. Wells

STRANGERS.

BY FREDERICK AGNEW,
AGE 15.

Esther Hill
Isabel Knowlton
Vianna Knowlton
Beryl M. Sieghert
Dorothy L. Macready
Jennie E. Everden
Virginia Gould
Katharine Reynolds
Louise Secor
Marjorie Seligman
Mary Lea Tindolph
Betty Humphreys
Helen Myers
Charlotte W. Gilman

PHOTOGRAPHS, 1

Helen Tallant
William W. Smith, Jr.
Dorothy Coate
Milton C. Sarran
Lucy B. Grey
Robert U. Whitney
Roberta Jennings
Gladys Evans
Andrew N. Adams
Mary C. Howard

Eugene Scott
Betty Jackson
Paul Lindsay
Leah Chernoff
Gertrude V. R. Dana
Phyllis C. Abbott
Edith Lucie Weart
Samuel H. Ordway, Jr.
Ruth Browne
Ansley Newman
A. Gordon Grove
Miriam Goodspeed
Joseph A. Todd
Madeline Gleason

PUZZLES, 2

Elizabeth Conley
Sarah Jaffe
Agnes C. Vanneman
Lazare Chernoff
Helen M. Lancaster
Edward Hunter
Andrew Brown
Robert B. Paine
Mary Berger
Margaret Blake

ROLL OF THE CARELESS

A list of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and
could not be properly entered for the competition :

TOO LONG. Helen Page, Marjorie Cassell, James W. Sheehan.

LATE. Phyllis A. Littleton, Elsie A. M. Grande, J. Thomas, Edna
Guck, Vivien H. Fitch, Doris N. Chew, Nora Mohler, Katie G.
Singlehurst, Walter B. Fretz.

NOT INDORSED. F. Marie Brown, Clara D. Lear, Leona Carter,

Gertrude Vincent, Mildred Crane, Margaret Wright, Hannah M.
Ratisher, Ruth Dexter Grew, Mac Clark.

INCOMPLETE ADDRESS. William Schusterson, Henry Ware,
Rebecca Stecol, Kathleen Anderson, Hannah Sasse, David Friedman,
John W. Claghorn, Jr., Catherine Beck, Morris Ryskind, Harold Beck.

NO AGE. Louis F. Adams, Doris F. Halman, Robert E. Innis,
Marjorie Osborne, Lucile Borges, Dorothy Collins, Philip H. Woodcock,
John Perez.

WRITTEN ON BOTH SIDES. Elizabeth M. Duffield, Esther
Bader, Hedwig Zorb.

WRONG SUBJECT. Henry Greenbaum.

PRIZE COMPETITION No. 160

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 to gold-badge winners who shall, from
time to time, again win first place.

Competition No. 160 will close February 10 (for for-
eign members February 15). Prize announcements will be
made and the selected contributions published in St.
Nicholas for June.

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, "The Toiler's Reward," or, " A Song of June. "

Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, "When School Days Are Over."

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "Breakfast."

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, " A Willing Model," or a Heading for June.

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

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

A NEW IDEA

Here we stand at the beginning of a new year,
with all its possibilities of development, its
chances for doing things worth while, its lessons
of one kind and another, stretching before us. It
seems a good time to start a new idea to working,
here in this department of books and reading.

I have been telling you for a long while now
about such books as I believe to be entirely worth
your while, books that, if you missed them out of
your experience, would mean a real loss, such as
the missing of a fine friendship or a noble adven-
ture would bring to you. I have gone hither and
thither for these books, following no special plan,
but turning to one author or another, or to differ-
ent periods of time, as the fancy took me. And I
have had to leave out many great books because
you were not yet old enough completely to under-
stand and enjoy them. But though there are
many I have not spoken of, I think I have at least
given you a hint of the various types, and men-
tioned most of the authors it will be good for you
to be familiar with while, you are still boys and
girls, and which will teach you to find the rest for
yourselves in good time ; helping you to such a
love of literature that even, when the crowded
life of grown-upness comes along, you will still
want to read the great books.

Now, however, I want to propose a certain
course of reading, a definite plan, and to take up
each month two or three books in sequence ;
books of a historical nature, but each one a story
in itself— and a good story.

You have real history in your school hours —
English, European, American. It does not al-
ways read like a story, and often you find it
rather dull work ; yet it is the tale of man's
existence, of his struggles from century to cen-
tury, his advances and retreats, his immense ad-
ventures, his wonderful travels and discoveries
—the most thrilling story there is !

The trouble with straight history is that it in-
sists on dates and names ; it has so much to tell
that it is often forced to give no more than the
dry fact, leaving out all the story part, all the
heart interest, the personal feeling. The battles
and cities get in the way of the people. It is
about like reading in the papers of the war in
Turkey, instead of mixing with that war your-

selves, or having an older brother who is a war-
correspondent, or a missionary, come home and
tell you the odd stories and exciting adventures
he had met or heard or seen right on the ground
— stories that never got into his reports. Sitting
there and listening to him, you would get the
thrill of the human side of it all, the little, but
moving, personal adventures that are lost in the
great impersonal adventure. History is the story
of the impersonal adventure of this world;
romance and fiction of the personal one.

This is what the books I mean to tell you about
will give ; just this same "I 've been there and it
happened to me" side of it which is so exciting.
They will put you into close touch with the boys
and girls, their parents, the homes they lived in,
and the things they hoped for and tried after. If
you read these books so that they run parallel
with the period of the world's life that you
are learning about in your school histories, you
will get nearer to it, almost become one of the
people whose cities and battles you are studying
about. The whole period will seem real to
you, for you will have friends and foes among
the population. Your interest will not be con-
fined to kings and captains and elderly folk, but
will spread to the daily life of the kind of people
you would most likely have known if you had
actually been alive at that time, even to boys and
girls of your own age.

Of course these books were not written — or
not often— by actual participants in the incidents
they relate. Once in a while, a real romance
comes down through the ages picturing the story
of the day rather than its facts; but these are
rare. Nevertheless, by turning over many old
documents and letters and fragmentary anec-
dotes, by steeping himself in his period, an author
gets almost to believe that he is bodily, instead of
simply mentally, in the thick of what he is writ-
ing; and if he is good, he makes us feel the same
way.

After all, men and women have an amazing
habit of being a lot like each other even though
separated by some hundreds of years. The cir-
cumstances amid which they exist are very differ-
ent, to be sure ; manners were rougher, men more
apt to give their will a free rein, ideas were
crushed or unborn in those old times, ways of
building, eating, and working were different.

380

BOOKS AND READING

381

But people felt much the same, loved and hated,
laughed and sorrowed, as they do nowadays.
There was the same struggle for daily bread
among the poor, and the rich lived as sumptu-
ously as they knew how ; people traveled, hunted,
played, and studied then as now. So they can be
re-created for us, in the midst of their so differ-
ent surroundings and problems, because we are
all human and related.

It is somewhat difficult to choose among all the
many periods of history that have been turned
into story by the writers. Ancient Greek, and
Roman, and Persian, and Biblical times have
produced their share of fiction, as have the shift-
ing scenes in Italy and the tumultuous centuries
in France.

But, tempting as these certainly are, I am going
to leave them, for the present at least, and de-
vote my attention to England and America, be-
ginning with the Norman Conquest in 1066. This
marked the birth of the complex English race,
and therefore of our own. And it seems to me
that it will be extremely interesting to begin with
some stories of those far-away wild days when
Norseman and Saxon and Norman fought their
battles and struggled upward into a united race,
and then to go on gradually through the cen-
turies, taking up one interesting book after an-
I other, stories of the old times of chivalry, of the
feudal state, of the "spacious times of great Eliza-
beth," on to Cromwell and the Cavaliers and the
Pretender, following the thread of fiction till it
leads us to our own land, among the settlers of its
East and West, and so on down to our own day.

Sometimes there will be a number of delightful
books having to do with an especially vital time
in history, and sometimes, of course, it will be
hard to find more than one; but, oddly enough,
the entire great lapse of time is practically cov-
ered by the story-writers old and new. There is
no long gap.

The reading of such a line of books ought to be
a help to you in your study of history. Often
you will be able to discover mistakes the story-
writers have made— but that will only make it
more interesting. You will become a critic of the
story from the historical standpoint, at the same
time that your study of authenticated fact is
made alive and vivid to you by the imagination of
the romance. And you will surely be delighted to
discover that history is no such dry affair as it
occasionally appears to be in your school-books.
Fun and frolic, intrigue, danger, courage, and
excitement have crowded all the centuries, and
your story-writer has found these entertaining
things where the historian has missed them.

These books must necessarily be for the older

among you, boys and girls in your 'teens, who
like a good story, certainly, but who are begin-
ning to be interested in the truth about this world
and its people, and who do not mind helping out
your school work with your home fun. Keeping
your mind alert and keen is a more important
thing than cramming it with facts. And I be-
lieve that you will find the list of books I shall
talk about will do just that for the history part of
your minds. The facts, too, will stick all the
better for such a story background. If your hero
does a noble thing at some particular siege, or
barely escapes with his life from the beleagured
town, or goes- on a perilous mission between two
opposing armies, you will be far more apt to re-
member what the history says of that same siege,
or town, or those armies, than if you did not have
a warm, personal interest in these matters, an
interest your fiction friend has aroused in you.

So it seems to me your teachers might be in-
terested in such a course of reading, and would
like to know just the books you have found to go
with your study. Perhaps they will at times sug-
gest others to you; perhaps they will enjoy read-
ing yours.

Possibly, too, and I should like that very much,
you yourselves will have stories to suggest to me.
If you knew of some fine, exciting book on a par-
ticular period in English or American history, no
matter how little known the period might be, why
could n't you send me the title, so that all the
•readers of St. Nicholas could enjoy it with you?
It is impossible for me, with the best will in the
world, to know all such books, and I might miss
something excellent — which would be too bad !
So speak right up, if you have any suggestion
you care to make, and I will be most thankful,
and glad to tell my readers from whom the title
has come.

It may take most of the year to tell about the
various books I have in mind, and which will
follow each other month by month according to
their date in history. Then, if the idea works out
nicely, we may take up this story side of the
world's life in other countries.

You will find there is no country or people you
can turn to whose history does not give the most
superb opportunities to the writers of adventure
and romance— opportunities that have been taken
advantage of time and time again, if we only
knew it, and that are still being made use of by
writers to-day. I shall not confine myself to the
older authors, but will tell you about the newest
one as well, if his story is a good one.

Many of you will have passed the point in
history to which the earlier among these books
are related, but it will be almost as interesting to

382

BOOKS AND READING

read them in the light of what you already know
or can remember ; and, since the study of the facts
of history is a much slower process than reading
the romance of it, you will soon find me catching
up with wherever you are. I shall have to move
as fast as a hundred years at a jump occasionally,
you know, for a hundred years is n't very long
in the story of such an old-timer as this world.

Next month, then, I will begin with a book or
two that tells a story of the time of William the
Conqueror. Possibly William himself will ap-
pear; possibly not. That you '11 find out when
we take up the books. For all these historical
tales will by no means interest themselves in the
great figures belonging to their period; it is the
time itself they will represent and illumine.
Kings and such are not always important in the
story side of the world's life. A king must man-
age to make himself interesting as a man before

he gets into our story world. Just wearing a
crown and issuing proclamations won't help him.
Perhaps it will be only the adventures of a little
child or the life of two young lovers that we shall
choose to tell the story of an entire reign. That 's
as it may be; the great point will be that the
books are interesting to read, and as true to the
life of their times as can be managed.

The three books of which I shall tell you next
month are Miss Yonge's "The Little Duke,"
Bulwer Lytton's "Harold," and Charles Kings-
ley's "Hereward the Wake." I will tell some-
thing of their story and just what part of the
Norman times they are set in— enough to stir
your interest.

And so here 's hoping you will like my idea,
and that, if any part of our long story runs thin,
an author may be found to step into the breach
and give us a rousing tale to bridge the gap.

THE LETTER-BOX

Our readers will remember with pleasure the excellent
photograph of the distinguished Governor of New Jersey,
new President-elect of the United States, which appeared
at the heading of the article in the November St. Nicho-
las, entitled, " What Woodrow Wilson Did for American
Foot-ball." By an oversight, which is much regretted, the
words, " Copyright by Pach Brothers, New York," were
not printed beneath the picture as they should have been ;
and we now make the earliest amends possible by calling
attention to our failure to give the photographers the credit
for their picture and the notice of their copyright that
should have appeared with it.

Dover, N. J.
Dear St. Nicholas: In your December number of 1910,
there were some verses about a Mother Goose holiday
tea. One of my friends conceived a bright idea, and to-
gether we thought it out until we had a perfectly beautiful
party all arranged (in our minds) for our club, the G. G. G.,
to give. When we told the girls about it, they all went into
raptures over it, and we decided we would have it. One
of the girl's birthday was on December 22.

At the party there were Mother Goose, Mother Hub-
bard, Little Miss Muffett, Little Bo-peep, Mary, Mary,
Quite Contrary, Mary Had a Little Lamb, the Queen of
Hearts, and many others.

We played games, danced (the music being given by the
club girls, who took turns playing, and one boy, who made
all our feet fly to the tune of his "fiddle"), and had a
lovely time. The Queen of Hearts was, of course, the girl
whose birthday we were celebrating.

We had favors in the first dance — little funny figures,
etc., and I (I think I got a boy's favor) received a huge
cigar made out of some kind of stiff paper or cardboard,
with a place for candy in the middle. Also we were given

by our charming hostess, the Queen of Hearts, little paste-
board boxes in the shape of hearts, filled with candy; and
she also gave us each a heart from her dress.

The party was a great success, and we all had a perfectly
lovely time ; and all the girls are so thankful to "J. E. L.,"
who wrote "The Mother Goose Holiday Tea. "

I have taken your magazine for years, and have enjoyed it
immensely. Your most interested reader,

Gladys E. Jenkins.

Redlands, Cal.
Dear St. Nicholas : I am spending the winter in Cali-
fornia, although it is n't much like winter, with all the
oranges and flowers about. I am going to tell you a
funny story. My Uncle John in Kentucky found a
Confederate stamp on an old letter one day, and
thought he would send it to me for my collection. He
soaked the stamp off the envelop and put it gum side
up on his desk to dry, when along came a big fly. The
fly lit on the stamp, and his legs stuck fast, and before
Uncle John could grab him he had flown with the
stamp out of the window. I was sorry to lose the
stamp, but if the fly had n't carried it off, I should not
have had any story to tell.

Webster Clay Powell (age 13).

Utica, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas : I have taken you for two years,
and enjoy you very much. Among my favorites are
Mr. Barbour's stories. I always look forward to the
day when you come. I have a little bull-terrier, named
"Fi-fi." The postman always gives Fi-fi the St.
Nicholas when it arrives, and he comes running up to
me, bringing it in his mouth.

Hoping you will have a long life,
Your loving reader,

Ruth Barneveld Weed.

\>/£

a US l/u u«

"A HEADING FOR FEBRUARY." BY EMMA STUYVESANT, AGE Ij. (SILVER BADGE.)

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JANUARY NUMBER

Fractional Cities. Constantinople, i. Canton. 2. Belfast. 3
Tientsin. 4. New York. 5. Liverpool.

Word-Square, i. Noble. 2. Ocean. 3. Beard. 4. Large. 5
Ended.

Connected Word-Squares. I. 1. Batch. 2. Adore. 3. Totem
4. Crema. 5. Hemal. II. 1. Harsh. 2. Aroma. 3. Roves. 4
Smelt. 5. Hasty. III. 1. Least. 2. Eagle. 3. Agree. 4. Sleet. 5
Teeth. IV. 1. Porch. 2. Opera. 3. Refer. 4. Creep. 5. Harps
V. 1. Yeast. "2. Earth. 3. Ardor. 4. Stone. 5. Threw. VI. 1
Heart. 2. Error. 3. Arise. 4. Roses. 5. Tress. VII. 1. Smart

2. Miser. 3. Aside. 4. Redan. 5. Trend. VIII. r. Wheat. 2
Heave. 3. Eaves. 4. Avert. 5. Testy. IX. 1. Davit. 2. Agone

3. Vodka. 4. Inker. 5. Tears.

" Famous Roman " Zigzag. Cincinnatus. Cross-words: 1. Caesar.
2. Cicero. 3. Mantua. 4. Marcus. 5. Portia. 6. Trajan. 7. An-
tony. 8. Horace. 9. Actium. 10. Mucius. 11. Scipio.

Double Diagonal. Caesar, Pompey. 1. Catsup. 2. Cannon. 3.
Seemly. 4. Lapsed. 5. Cellar. 6. Yeller.

Numerical Enigma. " Our greatest glory consists not in never
falling, but in rising every time we fall."

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 November Number were received before November 10 from Ruth Ehrich — Evelyn Fassett —
" Queenscourt" — Dorothy Belle Goldsmith — Judith Ames Marsland.

Answers to Puzzles in the November Number were received before November 10 from R. Kenneth Everson, 8 — Lothrop Bartlett, 8 —
Margery Merrick, 8 — Helen A. Moulton, 8 — "Dixie Slope," 8 — Duncan Scarborough, 8 — Claire A. Hepner, 7 — Harmon B., James O., and Glen
T. Vedder, 7— Thankful Bickmore, 6— Mary L. Willard, 6 — "Midwood," 6— Harry A. Montgomery, 6— Julius F. Muller, 6 — Phyllis Young, 5 —
Katharine Molter, 5 — Vada I. Whytock, 5 — Joseph Cohen, 5 — Gertrude M. Van Home, 5 — Margaret Andrus, 5 — Marion J. Benedict, 5— Helen
L. Bolles, 5 — Nona A. Reynaud, 5 — Eleanor O'Leary, 5 — Barbara Taylor, 4 — Donis Davidson, 4 — Margaret Underwood, 4 — Helen Marshall, 4
— Henry G. Cartwright, Jr., 3 — " Dethi Duet," 3 — Paul Caskey, 3 — Beatrice E. Maule, 3 — Elsa Roeder, 3 — Isabel Snow, 2 — Caroline T. White, 2
— Katherine Aldridge, 2 — Dorothy Holt, 2 — Ruth Williams, 2 — Dorothy Chesley, 2.

Oblique Rectangle, i. C. 2. Tan. 3. Carol. 4. Noble. 5.
Llama. 6. Emmet. 7. Aerie. 8. Tiara. 9. Erect. 10. Acorn. 11.
Trail. 12. Nihil. 13. Libel. 14. Leper. 15. Leger. 16. Regal. 17.
Rabid. 18. Liver. 19. Deter. 20. Revel. 21. Rebus. 22. Lunar.
23. Satin. 24. River. 25. Never. 26. Rebel. 27. Resin. 28. Livid.
29. Niter. 30. Defer. 31. Relic. 32. Rifle. 33. Climb. 34. Ember.
35. Besot. 36. Roman. 37. Tapir. 38. Niche. 39. Rhomb. 40.
Embed. 41. Beset. 42. Devil. 43. Timid. 44. Limit. 45. Digit.
46. Tiger. 47. Tepid. 48. Rigor. 49. Don. 50. R.

Anagrammatic Acrostic. Milton. Cross-words': r. Thomas
Babington Macaulay. 2. Jean Ingelow. 3. Henry Wadsworth Long-
fellow. 4. Alfred Tennyson. 5. Frances Sargent Osgood. 6. John
Henry Newman.

Novel Zigzag. Kris Kringle. 1-10, Tannenbaum (fir-tree).
Cross-words: 1. Kestrel. 2. Trickle. 3. Idiotic. 4. Assyria. 5.
Kinsman. 6. Erratic. 7. Ignoble. 8. Onerous. 9. Gallant. 10.
Blemish, n. Elation.

Illustrated Numerical Enigma. Emancipation Proclamation.

Diagonal. Jefferson. 1. Judicious. 2. Aeroplane. 3. Unfeigned.
4. Disfigure. 5. Pentecost. 6. Embarrass. 7. Isthmuses. 8. Ver-
milion. 9. Galveston.

Answers to one Puzzle were received from M. P. S. — N. J. — M. H. — D. I. S. — J. T.
-H. E. S., Jr.— K. K.— M. S. K.— I. L. G.— W. H.— W. L.— S. A.-A. M— S. L.— E. G.-

-E. T. L.— D. L.— G. P. H., Jr.— D. C-
-F. I. M— J. F. H.— E. M.

-D. A. C.

AMERICAN HISTORY DIAGONAL

(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 diagonal, beginning with the upper left-
hand letter, will spell the name of a famous general
born in February.

Cross-words : 1. A two-days' battle in Virginia, z.
The commander of the Philadelphia. 3. A tribe of In-
dians in North Carolina. 4. A French commander at
Yorktown. 5. A battle won by General Stark. 6. A
battle lost by Washington. 7. A famous Confederate
general. 8. A fort famous in the Civil War. 9. A fa-
mous surrender. 10. The city guarded by the fort
named in the eighth cross-word.

GUSTAV DEICHMANN (age 13).

DOUBLE BEHEADINGS AND CURTAILINGS

Example : Doubly behead and curtail illness, and leave
the ocean. Answer : di-sea-se.

In the same way behead and curtail: 1. To give up,
and leave a conjunction. 2. Within the sides of a ship,
and leave a neck-piece. 3. Imprisonment, and leave
hastened. 4. Arrangement of clothing, and leave to
mimic. 5. To receive title by legal descent, and leave a
pronoun. 6. To glisten, and leave a chest. 7. Huge,
and leave human beings. 8. A gold coin introduced by
the Roman emperor, Constantine, and leave a cover.

9. Vitrified matter in furnaces, and leave a writing fluid.

10. A public vehicle, and leave a pen point. 11. A night-
mare, and leave a young bear. 12. A kindly goblin, and
leave to possess. 13. To outshine, and leave a part of
the mouth. 14. A member of Congress, and leave a boy's
nickname.

All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed, and written in order
one below another, the primals of the new words will
spell the name of a famous American.

edith Armstrong (age 14), League Member.

A GREEK ZIGZAG

All the cross-words are of equal length, and, when writ-
ten one below another, the zigzag, from the first letter
of the first word to the last letter of the sixth, and
from the last letter of the seventh word to the first letter
of the last word, spells the name of a famous Athenian.
Cross-words : 1. An ancient city of Argolis. 2. One
of the seven wise men of Greece. 3. A Grecian city
destroyed by Alexander. 4. The founder of Thebes.
5. A famous Greek geometer. 6. A famous Greek
painter. 7. In ancient Greece, a ruler owing his office
to usurpation. 8. An early Greek poet. 9. A circular
stone, used in the Olympic games. 10. A poetic name
for Greece. 11. A famous enemy of the Greeks. 12. A
Greek poetess.

Isidore helfand (age 14), Honor Member.

383

384

THE RIDDLE-BOX

4
1

ILLUSTRATED ZIGZAG

18 ■ Each of the eleven pictured ob-

jects may be described by a word
of six letters. When rightly guessed,
15 8 * io • the zigzag of stars will spell the
name of a famous musician, the
letters from 1 to 7 will spell the
country of his birth, from 8 to
14, the name of a country he often
visited and where he was warmly
welcomed, and from 15 to 21, the

14 name of the city in which he died.

CROSS-WORD ENIGMA

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
My first is in boat, but not in oar ;
My second in land, but not in shore ;
My third is in lamb, but not in sheep ;
My fourth is in broom, but not in sweep ;
My fifth is in good, but not in fine ;
My sixth is in ale, but not in wine ;
My whole, a soldier who found a sea,
As you may have learned in history.

ELIZABETH LAND (age 13).

HIDDEN PROVERB

Each sentence contains one word of the proverb.

1. When is the rain going to stop? 2. Why are you
up so early, Bob? 3. I believe that bird is a starling.

4. If the bear catches Tom, it will be bad for him.

5. What is the time, Mother? 6. On the mantel was a
low ormolu clock.

alfred curjel (age io), League Member.

CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES

*****
*****

*****

***** *****

*****
*****

I. .Upper Left-hand Square: 1. To penetrate. 2. Cour-
age. 3. To discipline. 4. To eject. 5. Hires.

II. Upper Right-hand Square: i. A pointed projec-
tion. 2. A race-horse. 3. A coloring matter. 4. To
give strength to. 5. Unseasoned.

III. Central Square: i. Acute pain. 2. One who

subdues. 3. To dye. 4. Nerve cells, with their pro-
cesses and branches. 5. Renowned.

IV. Lower Left-hand Square: i. Lengthwise. 2.
One suffering from a certain cutaneous disease. 3. To
judge. 4. An elegy. 5. Illustrious.

V. Lower Right-hand Square: i. A small candle.
2. To worship. 3. Attitudes. 4. To raise. 5. Reposes.

ruth a. ehrich (age 12), League Member.

GEOGRAPHICAL ACROSTIC

All the words described contain the same number of
letters, and, when written one below another, the
primals spell the name of a large group of islands.

Cross-words : 1. A country of northern Europe. 2.
A continent. 3. A commercial city of Russia. 4. A city
of Switzerland. 5. A city on the Rio Grande. 6. A
Grecian city. 7. A great metropolis. 8. A city in east-
ern New York. 9. A western State. 10. A large river
of Europe.

Elizabeth elting (age 12), League Member.

SUBTRACTED BATTLES

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
I. From an American battle take an animal, and leave
to move swiftly. 2. From a Revolutionary battle take
to memorize, and leave a solid measure of 128 cubic
feet. 3. From a famous battle take a girl's name, and
leave an ancient garment. 4. From a battle take a
domestic animal, and leave inclosures where such ani-
mals are confined. 5. From a decisive battle take an
English cathedral city, and leave a place larger than a
village. 6. From a battle take part of an egg, and leave
level lands. 7. From an ancient battle take a beverage
(expressed by one letter), and leave a boy's name.

MARGARET M. H0RT0N (age 14).

TRANSPOSITIONS

Example : Transpose marks and make packing-cases.
Answer : traces, crates.

In the same way transpose: i. A rogue, and make an
East Indian sailor. 2. Brightness, and make a long,
loose overcoat. 3. A large cave, and make a coward.
4. Connected, and make to set on fire. 5. A state of
unconsciousness, and make the drink of the gods. 6. A
French town that gave its name to a treaty of Henry V,
and make a bivalve. 7. To fade, and leave to twist
about.

All these words contain the same number of letters,
and when written one below another, the primals of
newly made words will spell the name of a town famous
in the Indian Mutiny.

marjorie k. gibbons (age 15), Honor Member.

THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

This is one of the times
nuhen Peter' s is popular

You often feel that between-meal hunger,' that
longingfor something really delicate and delicious.

This is just the desire that Peter's Milk Choco-
late satisfies. The indescribable blend of finest
chocolate, richest milk and purest sugar makes
it the very thing you want.

High as the Alps in Quality

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

abound in the vast domain

which nature provided and

Uncle Sam has set aside "for

the benefit and enjoyment of

the people."

Yellowstone
National Park

©Season 1913 will be June 15 to Sept.
15. The way to go to the Yellowstone
is via the Original and Northern En-
trance - - - Gardiner Gateway — reached
only by the

Northern Pacific Ry

®You should surely go this summer.
Sumptuous hotels, or enjoyable camps,
and the 143 miles of coaching over gov-
ernment kept boulevards, will re-
fresh, rejuvenate and re-create you.
The cost is moderate and you will
always remember it with keenest
pleasure. Excursion fares in effect
for the Park trip by itself or
in connection with Pacific Coast
trips. May I send you our
literature?

Qjust drop a postal to

A. M. CLELAND

General Passenger Agent

St. Paul, Minn.

Pictures at the left short:

1 — Pelicans on "Molly Island" — Yel-
lowstone Lake.

2 — The famous geyser hole "fishing
cone," in Yellowstone Lake.

3 — Giant tree gnawed by beaver.

4 — The graceful elk.

5 — Hungrybears haunthotel refuse heaps.

Panama-Pacific International Exposition
San Francisco— 1915

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

You May be Sure He Gets It.

"How about some Jell-O, my dear? You know I do not often suggest anytning
for the table, but so many of our friends are using Jell-O and I find I like it so well that
I would really like to have some here at home."

This suggestion should be very welcome to any woman, for

costs only ten cents, does n't have to be cooked, and everybody, saint
and sinner, likes it.

A great variety of the most delicious desserts can be made of
Jell-O by adding only hot water — nothing else.

Marion Harland, Mrs. Rorer, and all other Jell-O users, will
tell you, "There never was anything like it."

There are seven delightful flavors of Jell-O: Strawberry,
Raspberry, Orange, Lemon, Cherry, Peach, Chocolate.

Each in a separate package, 10 cents at any grocer's.

The beautiful recipe book, "DESSERTS OF THE
WORLD," illustrated in ten colors and gold, will
be sent 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 isn't there, it isn't JELI.-O.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Six Pairs

of These Sox or Stockings

Must Wear 6 Months

They won't wear to holes. We guarantee that. If any do, we replace them free.

A guarantee ticket with six coupons attached is given with every six pairs sold.

And this guarantee does n't cover merely the heels and toes. Every stitch is

protected. If even a thread runs in any pair, you get a new pair without any cost.

A Million Customers

By the number of Holeproof Hose we sell, we figure that we have a million
regular customers — men, women, children and infants. So many would n't
buy a poor hose, or one that did not live up to the guarantee. In all of our
thirteen years of "Holeproof," 95% of the output has outlasted it. That
means 24,700,000 pairs.

lloleproomosieru

^OR MEN WOMEhT AND CHILDREN^

The reason is
this : We pay
for Egyptian
and Sea Island
Cotton Yarn
an average of

brands of cotton, hose,
hose made.

And they are the silkiest silk

74 Cents a Pound

There is no finer cotton yarn in existence. It is long-
fibre, soft, light-weight but strong. We could buy
common yarn for 32 cents a pound but it would n't
make Holeproof Hose.

We send to Japan for silk for the silk " Holeproof"
and guarantee three pairs of these hose for three
months for both men and women.

" Holeproof" in silk are more economical than most

Don't Darn Longer

— when there are hose like these at the price you now
pay for common grades.

The gen- uine Holeproof Hose bearing this

signature ^atfofoic££ are sold in your town. We '11
tell you the dealers' names on request or ship direct
where no dealer is near, charges prepaid.

Cotton "Holeproof" for men cost $1.50 to $3 a box
of six pairs; for women and children, $2 to $3 a box
of six pairs; for infants, $l a box of four pairs. All
boxes above guaranteed six months.

Silk " Holeproof" for men cost $2 for three pairs;
for women, $3 for three pairs. Silk hose guaranteed
three months.

Write for free book, "How to Make Your Feet Happy. "

HOLEPROOF HOSIERY COMPANY, MILWAUKEE, WIS.

Holeproof Hosiery Co. of Canada, Ltd., London, Can.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

An automobile book every boy will
want and can have — FREE

THERE are nearly 100 pages in this book, crammed full of the most interest-
ing information you ever saw. It tells you all you need to know about run-
ning a motor car and is in clear, simple language explained by interesting and
understandable diagrams.

There 's nothing difficult about this book— no big technical terms to study
and puzzle over. Everything is explained fully. It tells just what to do under
every condition— even the littlest fellow can understand and enjoy it.

Every point is covered, from the starting and stopping of the car, and the
construction and operation of the motor, to the rules of the road. It is a fund of
information every boy should have, for every boy looks forward to the time when
he will be driving a car. The book is complete in every respect. The reading
will supply you with many a pleasant evening this winter.

All instructions are clearly illustrated with drawings that explain instantly
what the " ignition switch," " gear-shifting lever," " shifting gate " and " spark
and throttle levers " are. You recognize these parts at once. There are other
chapters and drawings concerning all the other parts, too, so that a single read-
ing of the book will fix them in your mind in the most interesting way possible.
A big two-page diagram tells you just what parts are to be lubricated, how often,
and why and whether grease or oil is to be used.

All this fascinating information is yours for the asking. We will be very
glad to send the book to your address, absolutely free, all charges prepaid.

Write for this book to-day. No boy can afford to be without it. Please
address Dept. 130.

The Willys-Overland Company, Toledo, O.

MODEL 69-T— $985
( Completely Equipped )

52". NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

ONE night, as I was almost napping.
Overhead I heard a flapping,

And looking out, in quite a fright,

The strangest company met my sight.
Can you guess what it was I saw ?
A hundred Kewpies, maybe more,

In solemn line upon the limb

Of our big tree. 1 had to grin.
The cunning creatures looked so dear.
And in the moonlight queer as queer.

So I stood looking — listening too,

Because I knew they 're friends to you.
And all the things I overheard
I '11 tell to you just word for word.

First up rose Wag, the Kewpie chief;

Said he, " My friends, I will be brief, —
Since we were made by Rose O'Neill,
And given power to think and feel,

Full well we 've carried on the work

Of making children happy. Shirk
Is not among us ! But 1 see
There are so many children we

Can never pay them all a visit,

So listen to my plan exquisite.
The next best thing to us would be
Our pictures. It occurred to me

That Rose O'Neill would surely paint us.

And so with every child acquaint us.
And I have often heard it said
That magazines are widely read

By grown folks — but the children too

Look at the pictures. What to do

If you want a sample page of Kewpie Kutouts, write to the Woman's Home Companion,
381 Fourth Avenue, New York, and say "PLEASE."

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Was very clear — I sent a scout

To pick the very best one out.

He'd see 'most every place he'd go
The Woman's Home Companion, so

I told my plan to Rose O'Neill.

She said she 'd make us almost real

And paint us so each child about
Would have some Kewpies to kut out."

Up got the cook; said he, "Suppose

There is some child who never knows

Or sees this book, — how shall we tell him
The great good luck that just befell him ? "

Another said, "It might be wise

Our pictured selves to advertise.

I know a magazine," quoth he,
" The children will be sure to see ;

Each month we '11 send one of our band

To see the pictures as they stand.

Then he must change himself to paper
And in "St. Nicholas" each caper

The paper Kewps do, tell; or better.

He might each month send in a letter."

" Now who," cried Wag, "will volunteer
To keep the children posted? " Here

There rose up such an awful roar

I could not hear, and then, before

I scarce could wink, away they flew,
Perhaps, — who knows ? — to visit you.

Now all tnis happened months ago

And now their plans are working, so

If you are one who does not see

The Woman's Home Companion — be

One who'll tell your mother you

Would like to kut out Kewpies too.

Next month, perhaps, on this page here
You '11 see the Kewpies' volunteer !

Watch out for him

If you want a sample page of Kewpie Kutouts, write to the Woman's Hotne Companion,
381 Fourth Avenue, New York, and say "PLEASE."

St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. 134.

Time to hand in anstvers is up February 10. Prize-winners a?mounced iti April number.

Here are a group of valentines on each of which
are letters which, when properly arranged, spell
the name of an article that is advertised in the
January St. Nicholas, but none is either a book
or a magazine.

The letters of each article have been mixed up
and then rearranged so as to spell the inscriptions
on the envelops, each envelop containing all the
letters needed to spell one thing. No attention
need be paid to the punctuation-marks, except
when yott come to write out the answers, and then
you must make the names read just as they do in
the advertisements. You will see by the picture
that there are fourteen names to be written.

When you have guessed them, please put them
in alphabetical order and number them, as this
makes the work of examining the answers much
easier for the judges of the competition.

To show you how to solve the puzzle, we will
give you as an example an anagram that does not
occur in this puzzle. If you will examine the let-
ters in the words, " Hullo, see brave Lib runs !"
you will find that they can be made to spell out
the name, " O'Sullivan Rubber Heels," using
just the same twenty letters in each arrange-
ment.

ALENpNtS

Of course, many of you will guess Alexander's
puzzle in a jiffy, because it is really easy. So, as
usual, we are going to ask you to write a letter
which will help us to determine who are entitled
to prizes.

I asked some one in this office, who loves you
boys and girls very much, what we should ask you
to write about this month, and he said, "Why,
that 's easy — so many of our youngsters buy the
things advertised in St. Nicholas, because they
are advertised there, that you might ask them to
write an account of the most novel experience they
have had in a store where they have gone to buy
something advertised in their ' favorite magazine.' "
If you have never bought, except by correspon-
dence, anything advertised in St. NICHOLAS, you
may write about that.

The most interesting written descriptions, ac-
companied by a correct list of advertised things,
will receive prizes. The letter need not be too
long, but if your list is correct, the letter will be
what counts, so make it interesting and don't try to
have it sound like what your father would write —
just be yourself. You may, of course, receive
help in solving the puzzle and writing your letter,
but be sure to follow the rules. No conditions

( See also page 18.)

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

To parents of boys and girls who are taking music lessons:
Your fondest hope is that they shall grow up to be good musicians
— yet you realize almost (but not quite) as fully as they do, that

practicing is a dreadful nightmare

. HINK of the glorious, care-free play that
practicing breaks up and interferes with.

Ninth inning, two on base — and your boy
at the bat — and you say :

' 'Jimmy, come and do your last half hour's
practicing before dinner."

Is it any wonder that Jimmy wishes with
all his heart that music had never been in-
vented?

And just as the "mud-pies are ready to
serve: "Mary put away your dolls and get
your practicing over with before father comes
home! Isn't that enough to make your little
girl burn with resentment against the piano?

You wonder why they don't love music.
They wonder what practicing has to do with
music. How do they know that to be able
to play — to produce beautiful music, is in-
finitely more pleasure than mud-pies or base-
ball?

They are led to play baseball and mud-
pies. Must they be driven to practice?

No indeed ! they may be led to a love for
music and a desire to practice, just as easily
as they are led to play games.

The genuine Pianola Player-piano will
show them not only all the beauties of music,
but all the wonders of being able to produce

such music with the ten fingers of their own
two hands.

It will bring them to a realization of the
reward of attainment. At the same time it
will bring to you and the other grown-up
members of your family all the great music
of the ages, as a welcome relief from the scales
and exercises you have endured during your
children's practice hours.

But here is an important point to remem-
ber when you goto selectyour PianolaPiano :

Be sure it is a genuine Pianola Player-
piano that you hear. Pianola is a name. It
means a make of player-piano — -not just any
player-piano.

And every instrument that bears this name, — even
the very lowest priced at $.550.00 — includes every ex-
clusive Pianola feature and improvement. No other
make of player-piano at any price can offer you these
advantages. With the Metrostyle, Themodist and
other important points of difference, there is no com-
parison between the genuine Pianola Player-piano
and any other instrument — as you will realize when
you have heard it demonstrated. Take your children
with you.

We suggest that you read "The Pianolist," by
Gustave Kobbe, — on sale at all book stores — or if you
will write us we will send it with our compliments.
Address Department "D"

THE AEOLIAN COMPANY

Aeolian Hall New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

1847 ROGERS BROS.®

Spoons, Forks, Knives, etc., of the highest

NEW YORK

CHICAGO

SAN FRANCISCO

Send for
catalogue " B-5 .

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

other than those stated will govern the awarding
of prizes, which are as follows :

One First Prize, $5.00 to the sender of the cor-
rect list and the most interesting letter.

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 :

2. In the upper left-hand corner of your list give
name, age, address, and the number of this competi-
tion (134).

3. Submit answers by February 10, 1913. Do not
use a pencil. Do not inclose stamps. Write on one
side of your paper only and when your answer requires
more than one sheet of paper, fasten them together.

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.
134, St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York.

( See also page 16.)

Report on Advertising Competition No. 132.

Most of you, I imagine, were too busy thinking about
Christmas to give much care to the solution of Alexan-
der's puzzle. There were many who guessed the right
names of the articles, but who failed to write them care-
fully and to see that punctuation-marks were placed
where they belonged. Perhaps 500 or 600 found the
correct list of articles, but less than a dozen wrote them
with absolute accuracy. Next month we are going to
tell you why some of you don't win prizes.
The following are the lucky prize-winners:

One First Prize, $5. 00 :

Gertrude Russell, age 13, Massachusetts.

Two Second Prizes, $3. 00 each :

Anne W. Peabody, age 13, New York.
Lawrence K. Peabody, age II, New York.

Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each :

Gladys Watson, age 13, Massachusetts.
Genevieve G. Earle, age 15, New York.
Grace Davidson Baldwin, age 15, Montana.

Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each:

Edith Shearn, age 12, New York.
William George Brown, age 14, Missouri.
Elvene A. Winkleman, age 9, Minnesota.
M. Elizabeth New, age 16, New York.
Mary Gertrude Porritt, age 15, Connecticut.
Martha Straskinsky, age 15, New York.
Margie Fenner Jennison, age 16, Michigan.
Harry Medwin, age II, New York.
Wm. H. Cary, Jr., age 14, New York.
Anna E. Greenleaf, age 18, New York.

Vztrite

HINDS %SKS* CREAM

Relieves at once, quickly heals, makes clear, velvety skin. Complexions are greatly im-
proved by its use. Endorsed by refined women. Soothes infants' skin troubles. Men who
shave prefer it. — Is not greasy; cannot grow hair; is absolutely harmless. At all dealers.
Write for Free Sample Bottle and Tube. A. S. HINDS. 74 West St., Portland, Maine

Hinds

Cold

Cream

in tu!

in lunes

25c m

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

37*^*.

WV^TLEE BURPEE StCo.. Philadelphia.

Reduced Facsimile Front Cover of

Our Silent Salesman

BURPEE'S "SEEDS THAT GROW" are supplied
each season direct to many more planters than are
the seeds of any other brand. Burpee's Seeds are
known the world over as the best it is possible to pro-
duce, and are acknowledged the American Standard of
Excellence.

Progressive planters everywhere are satisfied with the
Vegetables and Flowers resulting from Burpee-Quality
Seeds, — grown according to the clear information freely
given in the Burpee Leaflets.

In thirty-six years of successful seed selling we have
introduced more Novelties that are now in general cultiva-
tion than have any three other firms. We produce Selected
Stocks upon our own seed farms in Pennsylvania, New
Jersey and California, while Fordhook Farms are famous
as the largest trial grounds in America. No Government
Experimental Station attempts such complete trials each
season, and the information here obtained is of incalculable
benefit to planters everywhere.

Each season we travel more than thirty thousand miles
to personally inspect our growing crops and yet never
travel a single mile to solicit an order! We ask, however,
that you allow our Silent Salesman to have your careful
attention in the quiet of your own home.

Simply send us your address plainly written and kindly
state where you saw this advertisement. Then by first
mail you will receive

The Burpee Annual for 1913

A bright new book of 180 pages, it pictures by pen and pencil all that is Best in seeds, and tells the
plain truth. While embellished with colored covers and plates painted from nature it is A Safe Guide, —
entirely free from exaggeration.

Shall we send you a copy?

If so, write TODAY.

A postal card will do, — and you will not be annoyed by any " follow-up " letters.

Small Gardens for Small Folks

In connection with our New Departure of Seeds for the Children's Gardens, we publish this inter-
esting and instructive Little Book. Its four chapters, with useful illustrations, tell what and how to plant
and explain the " why and wherefore " of successful gardening. Parents and teachers will welcome this
original new Booklet as filling "a long-felt want." So enticingly is the story told that children will find
its reading almost as absorbing as a fairy tale!

This Unique Little Book, — making " The Lure of the Land " appeal to the hearts of children, — is sure
of such an enthusiastic welcome everywhere that we have published a first edition of more than two
hundred thousand copies.

Seeds for Children's Gardens

Parents and teachers as well as the children themselves will be vitally interested in reading pages 107, 108 and 109 of
The Burpee Annual telling about m

This New Departure

Many would doubtless like to "have a sample" of just what we are doing; therefore, we offer a special

For 25 Cts.

Ready-Made Collection

we will mail one " Children's Packet" each of Semple's Branching Asters, — Imperial
Cenlaurea, — Fordhook Favorite Dianlhus, — Variegated Tall Queen Nasturtiums, — Impe-
rial German Pansies, — Fordhook Phlox Drummondii, — Burpee's Superb Spencer Sweet
Peas in Unequaled Mixture as grown by us in California. — Burpee's Columbia Beet, — Burpee's Golden Bantam Sweet Corn,
— Burpee's Iceberg Lettuce, — White Icicle Radish and Chalk's Early Jewel Tomato, together with the book "Small Gar-
dens for Small Folks." Five of these collections (with five books) will be mailed for $1.00 and sent to five separate
addresses, if so directed. To each address we will mail also a free copy of The B urpeb Annual for 1913, if requested
on order.

W. ATLEE BURPEE & CO., Burpee Buildings, Philadelphia

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.

A Child's Delight

A SHETLAND PONY

is an unceasing source of
pleasure. A sale 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.

IRISH TERRIERS

The best "youths' companion." Strong,
hardy pups always for sale.

Bay Shore Kennels, "Clifton," Shelburne,Vt.

Money mSquahs^

Learn this immensely rich business I
we teach you; easy work at home;
everybody succeeds. Start with our
Jumbo Homer Pigeons and your success is assured.
Send for large Illustrated Book. Providence
Squab Company, Providence, Rhode island.

Do you love dogs?

Send stamp for
" Dog Culture" to

SPRATTS Patent Limited

Newark, N. J.

CHARMING

JAPANESE

SPANIEL

PUPPIES

Thoroughbred Black and White

Mrs. M. T. NILES

115 West 106th Street,

3421 Riverside.

New York City

Established 187S

PETS

All kinds, and everything for them

Send for Catalogue " R "

William Bartels Co.
44 Cortlandt St., N. Y.

THE BEST DOG

for a companion or watch-dog is the Collie.
Alert, intelligent, faithful, handsome, he
meets every requirement. We have some
fine specimens to sell at low prices. Send
for a copy of "Training the Collie," price
25 cents. Picture shows mail matter re-
garding our Collies. We are selling
many fine dogs. F. R. CLARK, Prop.
SUNNYBRAE KENNELS (Registered)
Bloomington, III.

Airedale Terriers

Most popular dog of the day

e Airedale is the best companion,
watch-dog, and all-round hunting-dog.
Ideal pets for children, faithful, kind,
and wonderful intelligence.

Puppies from $25 up.

Beautiful booklet free.

Elmhurst Airedale Kennels
Kansas City, Mo. Sta. E.

The

HOUNDS

Rabbit, Coon, Fox, Deer, and Blood-
hounds; Norwegian Bear Dogs, Russian
and Irish Wolfhounds. 50-page illus-
trated catalogue, 5c. stamp.
ROOKWOOD KENNELS, Lexington, Ky.

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 Honorable Mention List for the excellence of
their answers to the questions recently asked about
ST. NICHOLAS was crowded out of the pages of this
number at the last moment. It will appear next month.

Ten Days' Free Trial

allowed on every bicycle we sell. We Ship on Approval

and trial to anyone in the U. S. and prepay the freight.
If you are not satisfied with the bicycle after using it
ten days, ship it back and dont pay a cent.

FACTORY PRICES g^^SSRSsa

at any price until you receive our latest Art Catalog
of high grade bicycles and sundries and learn our un-
heard-of prices and marvelous new special offers. *
IT flU I V PflCTC a cent to write a postal and
I UHLI UUO I 3 everything -will be sent you
FREE by return mail. You will get much valuable
Information. Do Not Wait; write it NOW!
TIRES, Coaster-Brake, rear wheels, lamps,

parts, repairs and sundries of all kinds at half usual prices.

MEAD CYCLE CO. Dept. R-272 CHICAGO

BOYS and GIRLS

GET THIS CAMERA

More fun than a circus.
Take a picture of your
friends; pull slide back
and show them the most
comic colored picture
you ever saw with the
words "Your Picture"
below. Lookslikereal
camera with lens, bulb,
tripod, slide. Full of pure
candy. Unbreakable. Sold
at leading druggists', 5 &
10c stores, news stands and
on trains. Mailed for 16c
in stamps. Special prop-
osition to dealers.

Pfeiffer & Co., Pittsburgh, Pa.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

BENSDORPS

ROYAL DUTCH

Why Experiment?
Use a Standard Brand of Cocoa

BENSDORP'S

is Absolutely Pure
Requires only \V^S
as much as of other

makes because of its

DOUBLE STRENGTH

Always in Yellow Wrapper. Sample on request.

STEPHEN L. BARRETT COMPANY, Importers, Boston

BREAKFAST

Cocoa

A wonderful morning beverage — deliciously
flavored — abounding in healthful properties
— imparting vivacious, buoyant spirits in
young people. Strong physical bodies develop
healthy brains with clean honest imaginations
and ideal ambitions, the real foundation for
great achievements in later years.

At Leading Grocers

Fifth Avenue at 35th Street

New York

CHOCOLATES, BONBONS, FRENCH BONBONNIERES

Afternoon tea served in the
Lnnclicon Restaurant, three to six

RUBBER BUTTON

Hose Supporter

Will stand
hard wear

IN STORES EVERYWHERE.

Child's sample pair,postpaid,

16 cents (give age).

It gives satisfaction — doesn't tear the
stockings — doesn't hamper the child
— and wears longest.

GEORGE FROST Co., Makers. Boston

Also makers of the famous Boston Garter for men.

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE

OUR ILLUSTRATIONS

WE illustrate this month the new stamp from
Barbados. The design is new to the British
Colonies, but in a way suggests the 1891 issue of
Monaco. The head of King George appears in a
small oval at the upper left side. Below the head is
a shield bearing the value ; the lower right corner is
filled with a female figure in a chariot drawn by sea-
horses, from behind which rise a couple of palm-
trees whose foliage fills the upper right corner, while
the word "Barbados" appears at the bottom of the
stamp. The figure in the chariot is the one which
stamp-collectors have been accustomed to see in the
various issues of this country since 1892, and doubt-
less the query will again arise, "Whom does it repre-
sent?" The weight of evidence seems to favor
Queen Anne, although there are many who insist it
is Victoria, and some who think it Britannia. The
claims for the latter are not well founded. The
earlier issues undoubtedly represent the conventional
Britannia with trident and shield, but this new figure
has dropped the shield for an orb.
It is believed that the figure on
one of the earliest seals of the
colony, before the days of Queen
Victoria, represented Queen
Anne. And this stamp design so
closely resembles the figure on
the seal that most collectors be-
lieve it to be the same. On the
other hand, the use of this de-
sign upon the Barbados stamp
followed the use of the head of Victoria, and also
this type is used on the Jubilee issue which bears
her name. Whoever it may represent, the new
stamps are very striking in appearance, and will
prove popular with collectors, and very ornamental
to their albums.

In answer to a query,

'.-"■ , r >■- : :

we illustrate the five-cent
blue-and-black Costa Rica,
of the issue of 1901. The
frame of the design is in
blue, or grayish blue, and
the center is in black. The
picture in the center is a
view of the harbor of Port
Limon, the most impor-
tant port of Costa Rica on
the Gulf side. This port
is important to Costa Rica
(which is the name given by Columbus, and signifies
"rich coast"), it is interesting in itself, and is the
terminus of many steamship lines from ports in the
United States.

REVENUE PAPER

IN 1861, civil war broke out in the United States.
When it became evident that this was to be a
prolonged contest, there arose the important ques-
tion of providing funds, and the Government re-
sorted to various methods of taxation to help out
its finances. Among these was the issue of what is
known as the Civil War revenue stamps. These
first appeared about September or October, 1862, and
continued in use for many years. They are divided
by collectors into a series of issues, gradually dimin-
ishing in importance and number of stamps.

The second (1871) and the third (1871-72) issues
are printed in two or more colors, one of which
(the black) is in a fugitive ink. They are upon
tinted paper, of a texture thickly strewn with silk
fiber.

Subsequent issues are of diminishing importance,
and need not be considered here. Our object is to
throw a little light upon the paper used in the first,
or original, issue.

While the catalogue mentions only two, there
are really four distinct kinds of paper used : the
"old," medium thick, very thick, and so-called
"silk." The first, or old, is a very hard, brittle sort
of paper, thin and nearly always semi-transparent.
That is, it is so thin that the design can be readily
seen when looking at the back of the stamp. This
paper can be readily identified by the imperforate
stamps of the issue, as these were the first printed,
and are all on the old paper. This paper continued
in use until 1869 or 1870, when variations appear.
The Government had been experimenting in the
effort to find a paper which would prevent the
cleaning and fraudulent re-use of a canceled stamp.
Such a paper characterizes the later issues. But
between 1869 and the appearance of the tinted silk-
fiber paper of 1871 occur the variations in paper of
the first issue. The soft, thick paper is readily de-
termined by sense of touch, and by its lack of
transparency. Sometimes it can be found almost
as thick as the lighter weights of blotting-paper.
Often stamps printed on this paper have a very
blurred appearance, as if lithographed. While not
catalogued, these are well worth saving, and it is
fun to look for them.

The silk paper of the first issue is much more
difficult to distinguish. It must not be confused with
the tinted silk-fiber paper of the later issues, which
it resembles not at all. It is a soft paper in com-
parison with the thin, hard, brittle old paper, a little
thicker, and has here and there minute silk threads.
These are very small and hard to find, and are more
readily seen upon the back of the stamp. Seldom
do more than two or three show upon a single
stamp, and often even upon the larger stamps only
a single thread may be discerned with the aid of a
magnifying-glass. When so found, many collectors
draw with a lead-pencil a little ring around the
threads for purposes of subsequent identification.
While color alone does not identify silk paper, yet
a collection of revenues on this paper presents a
uniform brilliancy peculiar to itself.

ANSWERS TO QUERIES

fjT~T\0 not use mucilage or paste for affixing stamps
^Uj_y in your album. You can buy for ten or fifteen
cents from any of .our advertisers a thousand good
peelable stickers or hinges. These will preserve
your stamps, avoid the danger of mucilage stains,
and stamps fastened in the album with these can be
removed easily when desired. Do not be in too
much of a hurry to get stamps in the album. Do not
stick them in rashly, but study the stamps — the de-
signs as depicted in your album and catalogue. Look
up all the stamps of that face-value as listed in the
catalogue, and satisfy yourself that you have the
right stamp for the right place. Then stick it in, but
not before.

^ZZZZZ222ZSZ32ZZZZ&2ZZZZ22ZZZ2Z?22Z2Z2ZZZ222ZZ£&^^

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY

TWENTIETH CENTURY ALBUM

(NEW) contains spaces for all stamps issued since
January 1, 1901. Prices from $2.25 up — post free.

NEW DIME SETS — Price 10c. per set :
12 Argentine 5 Cyprus 20 India 5 Reunion

15 Canada 10 Greece 20 Japan 15 Russia

139 different dime sets, also Packets, Sets, Albums, and Supplies

in our 84-page Illustrated Price-list. Send for it to-day — free —

and get sample copy of Monthly Stamp Paper.
Finest approval selections at 50% corn-mission. Agents ivanted.

Scott Stamp & Coin Co., 127 Madison Avenue, New York

PHILATELISTS

Outfit No. 1 Contains Stamp Tongs, Watermark Detector,
Pocket Magnifying Glass, Perforation Gauge, and Mill. Scale,
Pocket Stock Book. Price 75 cents post-paid.

Stamp Collectors' outfits from 25 cents to $10.00 in 1913 price
list, free. New 20th Century Album just out.

NEW ENGLAND STAMP CO.

43 Washington Building

Boston, Mass.

STAMP ALBUM with 538 genuine stamps, incl. Rhodesia,
y^iiljfev Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania (landscape),
yra*^Kjy Jamaica (waterfalls), etc., only 10c. 100 dif. Japan,
[Ml IB] India, N. Zld., etc., 5c. Agents wanted 50%. Big Bar-
Hftlwl gain list, coupons, etc., all Free! We Buy Stamps.
\jS{5i5' C. E. Hussman StampCo., Dept. I, St. Louis, Mo.

50 VARIETIES STAMPS
FROM 50 DIFFERENT COUNTRIES

sent with our 60% approval sheets for 5c.
Palm Stamp Co., 249 No. CarondeletSt., LosAngeles.Cal.

RAROAINS EACH SET s cents.

IJ^VIXVi^VlliliJ lfl 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.

RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
yj^S^Jv with Catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents. If possiblesend
yaJj^Kft names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special
[Me Jnl offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
WjfLWE) ll< -:4° i'M-an. 5c; 100 V. S.,20c ; 1" Paraguay, 7< .; 17
\*^g»/ Mexico, 10c. :20 Turkey, 7c; 10 Persia, 7c; i Sudan, 5c;
s<sasr 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 Remit in Stamps or
Money-Order. Fine approval sheets 50% Discount, 50 Page List
Free. Marks Stamp Company, Deft. N, Toronto, Canada.

CTAR/ipCf CHEAP! 333 GENUINE FOR-
<J innil >J . ^ 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.

VARIETIES PERU FREE.

With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N.Y.

QTA1V/IPQ Packet of 200, Album, Hinges, and List, all
O 1 /\lVlr O. for 8c 1000 mixed stamps, 15c. 50% to agents.
Payn Stamp Co., 138 No. Wellington St., Los Angeles, Cal.

Cf\ \T A RIFT'IF^ choice foreign stamps from Peru,
Ov V /\I\.1I_, t 1LO Siam, Paraguay, Malta, Uruguay,
Bulgaria, Iceland, etc., 10c Leon V. Cass, Chinchilla, Penna.

1000 Different gJAMPs.Cat.i.g $30 for $1.80

500 different

300 "

200 "
20 " Colombia
10 " Bosnia
9 " Prussia

Gold California

$ .45 Haiti, 1904 Complete 6 Var. $ .15
.20 Abyssinia, 1895 7 .45

.09 Mozambique, '92 9 .50

.07 N. F'ndl'd, 1890 & '98 " 15 .30

.05 Nyassa Giraffes, '01 " 13 .25

.10 Rumania Jubilee, '06 " 11 .55

M, each 35c; $i. each 65c; 25 diff. Foreign
Coins, 25c; Roman (Cassar) silver, 45c U. S. $1 Gold, $2.25.

J. F. Negreen, 8 East 23d Street, New York City.

CMAPC 200 ALL DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS

J1'rtrJ for only 10c 65 All Dif. U. S. including old issues
of 1853-1861, etc.; revenue stamps, $1.00 and $2.00 values, etc., for
only lie 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 100 VARIETIES FOREIGN, FREE. Postage 2c.
Mention St. Nicholas. Quaker Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio.

STAMPS 108 ALL DIFFERENT.

Transvaal, 'Sejvia, Brazil, Peru, Cape G. H., Mex- 1
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.

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 fia
bargains 2c. Agts., 50%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. !!sJ

A fine packet put up about ten years
ago, free to any one sending in 2 cents
postage, and application for our 50% ap-
proval sheets; reference required.
International Stamp Co. of New York
No. 1 Ann Street New York

-FREE TO-
BEGINNERS

The Best Stamp Paper in the World

Mykeel's Weekly Stamp News, Boston, Mass.

SPECIAL FEATURES

Fine Stamp Stories. How to Deal in Stamps.

Department for Beginners. Thousands of Stamp Bargains.
Chronicle of New Issues. Stamps Illustrated.

Si> -month s only 2 Sc and Choice of these Premiums FR I; E.

No. 1 — George L. Toppan's

UNITED STATES STAMPS AND THEIR VARIETIES
is a book that should be in the hands of every philatelist.
It describes and illustrates:
Regular Government Issues

Carrier Stamps
The illustrations are greatly enlarged while the ^-^p,-*
text is clear and conclusive. We cordially recom- FREE
mend the book to every collector of U. S. Stamps.
No. 2 —

U. S. Envelopes

Confederate Provisionals

one Anice collection of 205 all different foreign stamps rprc
LAID from all parts of the world. No rubbish of any kind. rlvCI-i

No. 3 —
no Thisisa packet of 98all different United States Stamps, IT C
♦'Oacollectionbyitselfand one that can be depended on. U.O.
Premiums On Special Trial Offer — Your Choice
1 — 105 different foreign stamps.
10 urlrc 2— 46 different U.S. stamps. i a

•!• v WKS« 3 — Leaflet describing U. S. envelopes. 1 UC*

4 — Album holding 1200 stamps.
Mykeel's Weekly Stamp News Boston, Mass.

PATRONIZE the advertisers who
use ST. NICHOLAS— their pro-
ducts are worthy of your attention.

CLASS PINS

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

"She's the happiest baby
ever," gratefully writes Mrs.
Shahan, wife of Rev. Geo. H.
Shahan, Tannersville, N. Y.
Little Eunice has been raised on

ESKAYS
FOOD

since she was six weeks old,

and "has never seen a sick day."

Mothers— your baby will be well and

happy if his food thoroughly nourishes.

■ — -— — — _. Eskay's Food added to

FOR pure, fresh cow's milk

INVALIDS provides everything nec-

Eskay's Food essary to nourish and

makes an agree- develop, and is so near

S&£8W: rhe.r's milk ?\baby

vides a highly- doesn t notice the change,

nourishing and Eskay's is used by the

easily -digested medical profession gen-
tood. Literature n
and sample free. "'

1 — — ' Ask your Doctor

TEN FEEDINGS FREE

Smith, Kline & French Co., 462 Arch Street, Philadelphia.!

Gentlemen: Please send me free 10 feedings of Eskay*s Foodl
land your helpful book for mothers, "How to Care for the Baby. "J

I Name

I Street and Number
[City and State

FAVORS FOR

St. Valentine's Day and
Washington's Birthday

Bisque Cupid on Gold Ring, 20c. Flat Crepe Paper Heart, contain-
ing Metal Favor, 5c. China Cupids, assorted positions, 5c, 10c,
25c, 5()c each. Gold Key, Miniature Slippers, Wedding and En-
gagement Rings, Metal Arrows, Gold Wishbones, Heart Mirrors,
China Rings, Heart Thermometers, Flat Metal Cupids, 5c each.
Assorted Heart Boxes, 5c, 10c each. Red Satin Heart Boxes, 5c,
10c each. Gold China Heart Box, 15c Decorated White China
Heart Box, 25c Crepe Paper Basket with Heart on Handle, 10c
each for either Salted Nut or Ice Cream Size. Lace Heart Ice
Cream Cases, 50c. dozen.

Washington "Valley Forge" Tent, 10c Cherry Log Boxes, 5c.
10c, 25c. each. Favor Cherry Sprays, 5c, 10c Silk Flags Mounted,
5c, 10c. Paper Pin Flags, 10c dozen. Miniature Hatchet on Pin,
10c dozen. Paper Hatchets, 5c Flat Crepe Paper Hatchet, con-
taining Favor, 5c Drum Boxes, 5c Continental Hat, 10c Wash-
ington Crossing Delaware Figure, 15c Straw Market Basket with
Cherry Spray, 10c Washington Buttons, 30c dozen. U. S. Shield
Ice Cream Cases, 50c dozen. Crepe Paper Basket with Cherry, 10c
Midget Salted Nut Basket, $1.00 dozen. Patriotic Snapping Mot-
tos, 25c, 50c, $1.00 per box.

The following can be had for St. Valentine's or Washington's
Birthday: Jack Horner Pies, 12 Ribbons, $4.00. Crepe Paper Nap-
kins, 35c package. Dinner or Tally Cards for either day, 25c dozen.

LARGE FAVOR CATALOGUE FREE ON REQUEST.

We make |up $2.00 assortments of Favors" for either day.
We positively do not pay Mail Charges.

B. SHACKMAN & CO., Dept. 14, 906 Broadway, New York

Boy Scouts -ALL Boys
-Try 3 in One FREE

"Attention /" We want every Boy Scout and every
other boy in America to give 3-in-One a good hard
test, absolutely free.

Write today for a generous free sample and the val-
uable free 3-in-One Dictionary. 3-in-One has been
for over 17 years the leading bicycle oil. It makes all
bearings run much easier and prevents wear — cuts out
all dirt and never gums or clogs. It cleans and pol-
ishes, prevents rust on all metal parts.

3-in-One is also the best gun oil. It oils exactly
right trigger, hammer, break joint — cleans and polishes
barrels, inside and out ; polishes the stock like new, too.

Always use 3-in-One on your ice and roller skates,
fishing reels, scroll saws, golf clubs, cameras and every
tool you own. A few drops does the
work. 3-in-One will keep your catch-
er's gloves soft and lasting, also
prevents rust on your catcher's mask.

3-size bottles at all good stores :
10c, 25c and 50c. (The 50c size is
the economical size.)
Write for the free sample today.

3-in-One Oil Co.

42 Q. B. Broadway
New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Murray

L Anm An s

^ Florida.
Walter

holds a privileged place
upon every woman's dress-
ing table. Its use is a
constant and enduring de-
light. Refreshing beyond
compare when used in the
bath, it should never be
lacking in the home.

Leading Druggists sell it.
Accept no Substitute.

Sample sent on receipt
of six cents in stamps

MENNEN'S

FOR MINE

Mennen's ?Snd Powder

keeps my skin in healthy condition

Sample Box for 4c stamp
For 15c in stamps we will mail you
prepaid our beautiful 1913 calendar

GERHARD MENNEN CO.

Newark, N. J.

Trade Mark

Come on, "fellers"! Put on your
Winslow's Skates and get in a
hockey game! You'll be sure-
footed if you wear Winslow's —
sharp turns, quick stops or sudden
starts can't upset you. Official
styles for hockey, racing, fancy
skating and skate sailing.

THE BEST ICE AND ROLLER SKATES

Write for new catalogue No. 6, contain-
ing rules of leading Hockey Associations.

THE SAMUEL WINSLOW SKATE MFG. CO.

Factory and Main Offices: Worcester, Mass., U. S. A.

Sales Rooms : New York, 84 Chambers St.

Pacific Coast Sales Agency: Phil. B. Bekeart Co..

San Francisco.
Stocks to be found at LONDON, 8 Long Lane, E. C;
PARIS, 64 Avenue de la Grande Armee; BERLIN;
SYDNEY and BRISBANE, Australia; DUNEDIN,
AUCKLAND and WELLINGTON, New Zealand.

Makers of Winslow 's Roller Skates.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

"Soften the
Impact of Little Feet"

Perhaps the weather keeps you indoors
nowadays. If you wear O'Sullivan
Rubber Heels on your shoes you
won't slip while playing — you won't
scratch the nice floors — and certainly
Mother won't notice the noise so much.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Here, Boys, is a Brand New
Bicycle Tire

The United States
Nobby Tread

"THE NOBBY TREAD is the
A most popular non-skid tire
manufactured. It has proved its
effectiveness in both automobile
and motorcycle tires.

Now, for the first time, Nobby
Treads are being manufactured for
bicycles, and riders, everywhere,
will readily appreciate the many-
advantages offered them in a tire of
this construction.

In the first place the big, strong,

diagonally placed knobs prevent
slips and slides on wet pavement.
This feature should appeal with
particular force to the city rider.
And furthermore, the tread is extra
heavy, making the tire conspicu-
ously rugged and especially adapt-
ed to all sorts of hard service.

Next time you buy bicycle tires try
Nobby Treads. They are not only
skid-stoppers but are exception-
ally economical tires to use, as well.

UNITED STATES TIRE COMPANY

Dealers Everywhere

New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

YOU will find that mothers who are carehil about the temperature of
the children's bath are just as particular about the soap.

Invariably they use Ivory.

They do this because they realize how important it is to use a mild, pure
soap and because they know how grateful Ivory Soap is to the tenderest
skin and what a buoyant feeling of perfect, healthy cleanliness it gives.

The more critical people are, the more they appreciate Ivory Soap
for the bath and toilet. It offers every desired quality: It lathers freely.
It rinses easily. It is pure. It is mild. It is free from uncombined alkali. It
is made of the best materials of which soap can be made. It is inex-
pensive. And — it floats.

IVORY SOAP 99&£ PURE

California
Fruits

Packed in the orchard

The careful selecting of the
choicest fruits, and the utmost
care in packing, makes Libby's "the
perfect fruit with the perfect flavor."

All the freshness of the sun-ripened fruit goes
into the tins because the Libby canneries are
right among the orchards and the bruising and
deterioration caused by shipment is avoided.

Peaches Pears Apricots
Cherries Plums

Always buy Libby's

Libby, McNeill & Libby, Chicago

Crys

f>omm°

Sugar

; :';' : -h

site/,-

tvt;,A>( j

In perfect harmony with the faultless
appointments of your table - an added
daintiness in tea and coffee.

Full and Half Size Pieces

qyoi

C< p

"WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS"

Vol. XL, No. 5 MARCH, 1913 PRICE, 25 CENTS

ST NICHOLAS

ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS

# FREDERICK WARNE & CO • BEDFORD ST- STRAND • LONDON »

THE- CENTURY- CO -UNION SQUARE -NEW- YORK

WILLIAM W. ELLSWORTH, VICE-PRESIDENT AND SECRETARY. DONALD SCOTT, TREASURER. UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK.

Copyright, 1913, by The Century Co.] (Title Registered U. S. Pat. Off.) [Entered at N. Y. Post Office as Second Class Mail Matter.

. , ' .-■ ■ '

SILVER
WRAPPER

The inauguration oi the home-cleaning season
brings Sapolio to the front. That big cake serves
a big nation because it Cleans, Scours, Polishes.
Under its administration woman has equal right
to "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.'*
It saves strength and time and

WORKS WITHOUT WASTE

ENOCH MORGAN'S SONS COMPANY, Sole Manufacturers

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

aidski \

The world's greatest artists

make records

only for the Victor

The world's greatest artists! Caruso, Mel-
ba, Tetrazzini, and others who have for years
charmed enthusiastic audiences, and whose
names are known in every home.

The world's greatest artists! New comers in
the field of American opera — Titta Ruffo and
Frieda Hempel who have scored great suc-
cesses abroad, and whose voices were heard
on Victor Records before these artists ever
appeared in America.

The world's greatest artists! Journet, Jadlow-
ker, and others who will not return to America
this season; Michailowa, Battistini, Huguet, and
Paoli, who have not yet appeared in America;
and Sembrich, Plancon, and Patti, who have
retired from the operatic stage.

And there are even artists who are no longer
among the living — Tamagno and Gilibert —
whose voices are preserved for all time on Victor
Records, the living evidence of their greatness.

The world's greatest artists — universally
acknowledged the foremost exponents of the
operatic art — all brought to you on the Victor
to sing for you in your own home the master-
pieces of the great composers.

Any Victor dealer in any city in the world will
gladly play any music you wish to hear and demon-
strate to you the wonderful Victor- Victrola.

Victor-Victrolas $15 to $200. Victors $10 to $100.
Your dealer " will arrange terms to suit your con-
venience, if desired.

Victor Talking Machine Co., Camden, N. J., U. S. A.

Berliner Gramophone Co , Montreal. Canadian Distributors.

Homer

-7--— -jsmmm

Victor

New Victor Records are on sale at all dealers on the 28th of each month

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

90 Miles an Hour!

That does n't make us sit up and take

notice as much as it would have made §§

grandpa and grandma. But if ninety „,-

miles an hour should come up behind

you, unexpected like, maybe you would jump a bit.

Well, that 's ahead of our story. Polly and Peter Ponds are very fashionable
this January. They are at Daytona Beach, down in Florida, enjoying lovely spring
days a bit ahead of time. One warm, sunny, quiet morning they started out for a
long walk along the beach, which is as smooth and hard as your parlor floor, and a
good deal wider.

There was n't a sound to be heard except the breeze in the palm trees, and the
long thunder of the surf.

All of a sudden there came a terrific racket that sounded exactly like a big artillery
battle — getting louder and nearer every second.

" Oh, my goodness, Peter/' cried Polly, " what is that noise ? "

"Don't be a fraid cat, Polly,1' answered Peter, who was n't so steady himself; " it won't hurt
you as long as I 'm around."

Just then there was a swish and a roar, and a couple of racing autos flashed past, and were little
specks way down the beach in a jiffy.

" Well," said Peter, drawing a long breath, "I knew they raced on this beach, but I never had
an idea they went like that. I thought I was over in Turkey, and the Bulgarians were coming."

"Peter," said Polly, "that scared me pretty much for a minute, but, do you know, I believe
I 'd like to ride as fast as that — just once, anyway."

"So would I," cried Peter, " and I would n't care if I did get spilled out; I 've got plenty of

POND'S EXTRACT

along."

"Yes," replied Polly, " if you have that with you, it does n't take nearly as long to get repaired
as it takes to fix up an auto, when that 's smashed up. It just gives you a lot of courage to know how
good it is. There is n't a single kind of bump, cut, or bruise that it won't fix."

"That 's right," answered Peter, "and I just believe that every one of those racers makes sure
that he has a big bottle along with him, before he looks to see if his gasolene tank is full."

If you boys and girls want a sample bottle of Pond's Extract like Polly
and Peter always carry with them, just write to Pond's Extract Company

POND'S EXTRACT COMPANY

131 Hudson Street - - New York

POND'S EXTRACT COMPANY'S Vanishing Cream
— Talcum Powder — Toilet Soap — Pond's Extract

[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 JANUARY, 1913.

Frontispiece. "The Man in the Wilderness." Painted by Arthur Page

Rackham.

The Nursery Rhymes of Mother Goose: "The Man in the Wilder-
ness." "Humpty Dumpty." "A carrion-crow sat on an oak."

"Little Miss Muffett." 193

Illustrated by Arthur Rackham.

"Just Anna." Story Marion Hill 195

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.
The Day After Christmas. Picture. Drawn by Leighton Budd 201

Christmas Secrets. Verse LUlle GUUland McDowell 202

Illustrated by Edna F. Hart.

Runty, the Boy-Giant. Story Wallace Dunbar Vincent 203

Illustrated by Herbert Paus.

A Merry Christmas. Verse a. l. Sykes 208

Illustrated by Ruth S. Clements.

More Than Conquerors: A Modern Greatheart. Biographical Sketch. .Ariadne Gilbert 209

Illustrated by Oscar F. Schmidt, and from photographs.

December Days. Verse Edward N. Tean 218

Illustrated by Otto Rebele.

t> j. • f t« jr-io ] Emille Benson Knipe and '

Beatrice of Denewood. Serial Story < Alden

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.

.219

•The Boy and the Man." (Talks with Boys.)

Illustrations from photographs.

Arthur Knipe
f John Grier Hlbben \
i Hugh Birckhead
. F. E. Chad wick } .
' Glfford Plnchot
\ Henry G. Prout
A Stray Letter. Verse Mrs. John T. Van Sant 230

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea.

Teddy Bear's Bee-Tree. ("Babes of the Wild"— I.) Charles G. D.Roberts 231

Illustrated by Paul Bransom.
The Land Of Mystery. Serial Story Cleveland Moffett 237

Illustrated by Jay Hambidge, and from photographs.

An Unlucky Look. Verse James Rowe 244

The Christmas Tree. ("Ballads of the Be-Ba-Boes.") D. K. Stevens 245

Illustrated by Katharine M. Daland.
Old Fables Brought Up to Date : The Shepherd Boy and the Wolf ..C.J. Budd 249

Illustrated by the Author.

Junior-Man. Verse Ruth McEnery Stuart 250

Illustrated by Clara M. Burd.

The Brownies and the Stalled Train. Verse Palmer Cox 252

Illustrated by the Author.

Curious Clocks. Sketch Charles A. Brassier 257

Illustrated from photographs.

Kane and Pard. Story Addison Howard Gibson 264

Illustrated by Bruce Horsfall.

Nature and Science for Young Folks 269

Illustrated.
St. Nicholas League. With Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems,

Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles -. . . . 276

Illustrated.

For Very Little Folk:

What Santa Claus Brought. Verse Ida Kennlston 284

Illustrated by Fanny Y. Cory.

The Riddle-Box 287

St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 28

The Century Co. and its editors receive manuscripts and art materia!, submitted for publica-
tion, only on the under standing that they shall not be responsible for loss, or injury thereto,
•while in their possession or in transit. Copies of manuscripts should be retained by the authors.

Subscription price, $3.00 a year; single number, 25 cents. The half-yearly parts of ST. NICHOLAS end with
the October and April numbers respectively, and the red cloth covers are ready with the issue of these numbers ; price 50 cents, by mail,
postpaid ; the two covers for the complete volume, $1.00. We 3zWand furnish covers for '/5 cents per part, or $1.50 for the complete
volume. (Carriage extra.) In sending the numbers to us, they should be distinctly marked with owner's name. Bound volumes are
not exchanged for numbers.

FRANK H. SCOTT, President. _,-,,, «„,^m„^.„^.^ „ . „ „, , ,T ,,

WILLIAM W.ELLSWORTH, Vice-President and Secretary. THE CENTURY CO., UniOn SaUarC NeW York, N. Y.

DONALD SCOTT, Treasurer. ' * '

Entered as second-class matter at the Post-Office Department, Canada.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Hinniira

IT Remember that our Bulletin tells only a little of what you can count on getting in future numbers. Hosts of —

clever, valuable things that you can't afford to miss will appear every month. ==

IT Three dollars a year. The Century Co., Union Square, New York. SS

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

A Christmas gift that will enrich the home life all the year

The Century m 1913

The Century in 1913

will have unusual interest for the boys and girls graduating out of ST. NICHO-
LAS into grown-up reading. The "After-the- War " series will present recent
American history vividly and appealingly. Robert Hichens and Jules
Guerin will picture with rare color and charm the Balkan War Zone.
There will be a further discussion of the problems of fraternities in girls'
colleges by eminent college presidents. There will be an opportunity to
become familiar with the best in modern illustration. There will be every
month short stories by the leading fiction writers of the day.

There will be a serial by

Frances Hodgson Burnett

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Every boy and girl who reads St. Nicholas will want to read

Frances Hodgson Burnetts

"T. TEMBAROM

'V)

The spirit of youth and hope is in this de-
lightful story — it is Frances Hodgson Burnett
at her very best.

The year, $4.00. Address the publishers :

THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, New York

Or your newsdealer will take and forward subscriptions

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Put it on your Christmas list

Famous Pictures

By Charles L. Barstow

A stimulating and delightful book
for all young folks, and for older
people who are unfamiliar with the
great paintings of the world.

Many carefully chosen illustrations. Helpful appendix, glossary and
index. An attractive gift-book. Price 60 cents net.

THE CENTURY GO. Union Square NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Novels are sweets. All people with healthy literary appetites love them."

— Thackeray.

A gift-book which carries a wealth of good cheer with it

The New
Book by the
Author of

"MRS. WIGGS"

' Rich in the minor characters,
the gemlike incidents, and the
convulsing dialogue that the
public now expects of Mrs.
Rice."

By ALICE HEGAN RICE

A dramatic picture, rich in coloring, drawn on the broad canvas of
Kentucky — America's romance land. Quaint humor of the Mrs.
Wiggs type is woven into a love story of unusual charm and
much power.

Many clever and attractive pictures by Wright,
l2ino, 404 pages. Price $1.25 net, postage 12 cents.

A delightful gift for many a friend would be this new book of this most popular
of American story-tellers, and these three earlier books in a Christmas package —

Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch

A homely tale of a brave-hearted woman who was also a delicious character. Smiles and tears
on every page. Price $1.00.

Lovey Mary

Mr. Opp

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

■ ?

Put this on your picked Christmas list too

Joan of Arc

Also delightful for its unusual quality

Jataka Tales

A fascinating book of jungle lore and primitive folk tales, adapted from the sacred

book of the Buddhists for young readers of to-day. Retold by Ellen C. Babbitt.

Thirty-six pictures in silhouette by Ellsworth Young which will specially please

little folks. Price $1.00 net, postage 8 cents.

A well-worth-while gift-book

iEsop's Fables

An Zvo of 167 pages. Price $2.00 net, postage 14 cents.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

The new one is

Crofton Chums

Sixteen fidl-page illustrations by Rely ea, full of life.
1 2W, 338 pages. Price $1.25 net, postage 1 2 cents.

This is RALPH
HENRY BARBOUR

Six Other Great Books
By this Prince of Story-tellers

Team-Mates

Kingsford, Quarter

Many pictures. Price $1.50

The Crimson Sweater

"A book that will go straight to the heart of every boy and of every lover of a
jolly, good foot-ball tale." Many pictures. Price $1.50

Tom, Dick, and Harriet

"Tom, Dick, and Harriet" is a book full of "ginger" — a healthful, happy book,
which both girls and boys will enjoy. Many pictures. Price $1.50

Captain Chub

In "Captain Chub" the boys rent a house-boat, and with Harriet and her father for
guests cruise up and down the Hudson, stopping on shore for all sorts of adventures.

Many pictures. Price $1.50

Harry's Island

The same happy quartet found fun another summer on an island in the Hudson
which Harry's father gave her for a birthday gift; and the days were very full
and jolly. Many pictures. Price $1.50

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

These Are Ideal Gifts for Any Boy or Girl

Rudyard Kipling's Greatest Books

THE JUNGLE BOOK THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK

Both books are illustrated, "The Second Jungle Book"
with rare sympathy and skill by John Lockwood Kipling,
the author's father. Price, each, $1.50.

Another edition, specially charming for a gift, is bound in flexible red
leather. Price $1.50 net, postage 8 cents.

Another Great Kipling Book

CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS

THE BIOGRAPHY OF A SILVER FOX

By Ernest Thompson Seton

This is the most delightful of all Mr. Seton's delightful stories — for the young in heart
of all ages — the story, from his cubhood to his splendid prime, of that aristocrat of
foxes, Domino Reynard, and his happy, adventurous life among the Goldur Hills. All
the magic of the wild, free life of the open is in its pages.

Over 100 illustrations by the author, and very beaittifully made. Price $1.50.

By the Same Author,

THE BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY

Just about the most delightful animal story ever written — saving and excepting always
those masterpieces of genius, the Jungle Books. It is a true story— we have Mr.
Seton's word for that — but it has the magic of imagination on every page.
Its pictures make it a never-ending joy ; they are the author's.

Printed in two colors, with a very attractive binding. Price $1.50.

MASTER SKYLARK

By John Bennett

Young people will get a truer idea of the life of Shakspere's day from this delightful
story than from many a serious volume.

The pictures by Reginald Birch are among the book's delights. Price $1.50.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

&^ML£4VhMb44

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Old and New — a List of Wide Choice

The Knights of the Golden Spur

By Rupert Sargent Holland

Delightful illustrations by Reginald Birch.

1 2 mo, 3 1 3 pages. Price $1.25 net,

postage 1 2 cents.

Standard Books Which Every Child Should Own
HERO TALES FROM AMERICAN HISTORY

By Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Cabot Lodge

Illustrated. Price $1.50

THE BOYS' LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN

By Helen Nicolay

Illustrations by J. Hambidge and others. Price $1.50

THE BIBLE FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

Beautifully illustrated from famous paintings by the Old Masters. 475 pages of
easy-to-read text, handsome red binding. Price $1.50 net, postage 23 cents.

DONALD AND DOROTHY

By Mary Mapes Dodge, the children's friend

Not a new book, but always new in its power to interest and delight every boy and girl
— the story of a sister and a brother — fine, sweet, true. Pictures. Price $1.50

LADY JANE

By Cecile Viets Jamison
A book of unusual freshness and charm, the story of a dear little girl whose beauty
and sweet ways and genius for winning love brought her many experiences.

Reginald Birch's pictures are quaint and fascinating. Price $1 . 50

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

*®(4

Very Little Folk Will Love These

THE BROWNIE BOOKS

By Palmer Cox

Palmer Cox's Brownie books — there are eight of the regular
books altogether now — are unique in their whimsical clever-
ness and fun. His fun-making pen, his gift at jingle- turnihg,
seem to gain in cleverness and wit with every year ; and
youngsters of all ages enjoy the jolly Brownies and their man-
ifold pranks. Pictures and verse in every volume are done
as only Palmer Cox knows how.

Eight books, with pictures on every page. Board covers in color.
Quarto, 144 pages. Price $1.50 each.

DO YOU KNOW THEM?

The Brownies' Latest Adventures

One hundred and forty-four pages of condensed sun-
shine.

The Brownies : Their Book

The original Brownie book, the first collection of Mr.
Cox's verse and pictures.

Another Brownie Book
The Brownies at Home
The Brownies Around the World

The Brownies Through the Union
Brownies Abroad
The Brownies in the Philippines
The Brownie Primer

Made up from all the Brownie books, for schools and
for all little children. Price 40 cents net.

Brownie Clown of Brownietown

One hundred pages of Brownie quaintness and jolly
fun and ridiculous doings, with many of the old favor-
ites, and some new characters playing pranks. All
in color. Price $1.00.

Telling not only how the tiny queen lost her fairy tem-
per and the dire results thereof, but of "How Winnie
Hatched the Little Rooks."

THE QUEEN SILVER-BELL SERIES

By Frances Hodgson Burnett

The Cozy Lion

A most delightful bit of nonsense — imagine a cozy
lion — with the fantastic and tender strain in the telling
characteristic of Mrs. Burnett.

Racketty-Packetty House

The Spring Cleaning

All about a delightful family of lovable children and
even more lovable dolls, as dear a story as was ever
written.

Dear little Bunch, and the dear, dear Primrose World,
and the beautiful Primrose Day party, all appeal to
the heart of every child.

Four exquisite little books, each with twenty pictures in color by
Harrison Cady. Price 60 cents each.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

■

■ ?

One of These for the Wide-awake Lad

For every one of the 100,000 lads operating their own wireless stations

The Wireless Man

By Francis Arnold Collins

Across the Atlantic

The "Wireless Man

How It Works

Talking Across the Atlantic

Some Stirring Wireless Rescues

Novel Uses of Wireless
Wireless in the Army
Wireless in the Navy
The Wireless Detective
Three Heroes of the Wireless

Thirty-two interesting illustrations from photographs.
\21no, 250 pages. Price $1.20 net, postage 1 1 cents.

By the Same Author.

The Boys' Book of Model Aeroplanes

The ideal book for every one who has been caught in the fascination
of model aeroplane experimenting.

Helpfully illustrated. Price $1.20 net, postage 14 cents.

The Second Boys' Book of Model Aeroplanes

Covering up to date the science and sport of model aeroplane building
and flying, both in this country and abroad.

Over 100 illustrations. Price $1.20 net, postage 11 cents.

The Battle of Base-ball

By C. H. Claudy

Give it to every lad who is a base-ball fan. (What lad is n't?)
A book which gets at the heart of the great American game,
and tells of it from a boy's standpoint — every page snappy and
alive. The author himself is "crazy about base-ball."

Christy Mathewson tells "How I Became a 'Big-League'
Pitcher," and there are pages of pictures from photographs of
famous players, managers, and base-ball fields.
Price $1.50 net, postage 1 1 cents.

r=A

THE
WIRELESS

MAN

FRANCIS A. COLLINS

THE SECOND

iBOYSBOOK/

MODEL
AEROPLANES

FRANCIS A. COLLINS

THE BATTLE
OF BASEBALL

Let us send you our attractive new holiday Catalogue. It
contains, among many other helpful suggestions for your
holiday planning, a " Classified List of Books for Young
Folks," which will give you wide choice of delightful books
for children of all ages.

A book is always a splendid gift.

<LV- \ c -

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

mk ...immtmm . 'm^mmmmmm,

For many other delightful books for boys and girls of all ages, send for The Century Co.'s
"Classified List of Books for Young Folks" — a helpful friend in your Christmas planning.

By the author of " The Melting of Molly"

Sue Jane

By Maria T. Daviess

Eight full-page illustrations by Furman.
225 pages. Price $1.25 net, postage 10 cents.

12 mo,

Also by an author who has never grown up

The Lady of the Lane

By Frederick Orin Bartlett

Attractive illustrations by Caswell. \imo, 336 pages. Price $1.25 net, postage 12 cents.

By the Same Author

The Forest Castaways

Of unusual charm in the telling

The Lucky Sixpence

By Emilie Benson Knipe and Alden Arthur Knipe

There is much actual fact in thisout-of-the-ordinary tale; and the authors make the bonny
heroine of the story, the historic Americans she meets, and our own Revolutionary his-
tory very real and alive with vivid interest. It is a splendid tale for all growing-up
young folks — and grown-ups too— who like an exciting story of worth-while adventure.
Sixteen full-page illustrations by Becker. 12 mo, 408 pages.
Price $1.25 net, postage 12 cents.

"The greatest of magazines for boys and girls of all ages."

BOUND VOLUMES OF ST. NICHOLAS

The twelve monthly numbers in two large 8vo volumes,
richly decorated. How children do love them!

One thousand pages. One thousand pictures.

Beautifully bound in gay red covers,
The two volumes, $4.00.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Klondike's
A splendid

The Lady and Sada San

By Frances Little

Frontispiece by Berger. i6mo, 224 pages. Price $1.00 net,
postage 6 cents.

A Great Book of Adventure

Smoke Bellew

By Jack London

The spirit of the vast frozen North is in this book, and the lure of the
treasure. One adventure follows another — it is Jack London at his best,
book for a boy's reading.

Strong pictures by Monahan. \2n10, 385 pages. Price $1.30 net, postage 13 cents.

Alice Hegan Rice's New Book

A Romance of Billy- Goat Hill

"Lady" is the heroine, a gay little rose set with thorns at
first. Everybody loves her, and with good reason. The
thorns disappear; but "Lady" never grows up; and Mrs.
Rice's telling of her romance is exquisite. The quaint humor
of " Mrs. Wiggs" is in the book, too.

Illustrations by Wright. i2mo, 404 pages. Price $1.25 net,
postage 12 cents.

A Clever Story of Wireless

"C Q"

By Arthur Train

It makes a voyage over seas — with the Wireless holding out hands to all the world —
a new thing — this story of the part the Wireless played in many lives on just one voyage
across the Atlantic. Full of humor, full of thrills.

Clever pictures by Crosby, \2n10, 301 pages. Price $1.20 net, postage 12 cents.

And don't miss this delicious little book

Daddy-Long-Legs

By Jean Webster

"Daddy-Long-Legs" is Judy's nickname for the unknown friend who sends her
— a starved little orphan — through college. Guess what happened. There 's a
laugh on every page. The illustrations are the author's own— you must read the book
to realize how funny they are. i6mo, 304 pages. Price $1.00 net, postage 8 cents.

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square

NEW YORK

ty%®§

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

To you, and to each and every St. Nich-
olas reader, the Editor of St. Nicholas
sends best wishes for a Merry Christ-
mas and a Glad New Year — a New
Year filled with health and growth
and sunny days — and St. Nicholas.

For St. Nicholas means — and during the new year coming more
than ever before — live, worth-while information, and acquaintance
with good pictures, and stories cf the kind that stimulate not only
delightfully but helpfully, and hours of happy, wholesome enter-
tainment for every boy and girl who makes St. Nicholas's, fneind.

First, send for the St. Nicholas Calendar. A post-card request will bring; lit.
Address :

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square New York

Then read the next page >

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

A real letter to St. Nicholas which has a
splendid suggestion for every one who
is thinking Christmas:

Dear St. Nicholas :

Why do I think the poet Whittier said you are "the best
child's periodical in the world"? What an easy question to
answer : because every reader of you loves and enjoys every
page. You awake ambition having such a lovely League with
its gold and silver badges and honor members. When your
pages are opened, the reader is in another land, now a land of
mystery, now a land of fairies, and now a land where dreams
come true.

I have read the serial stories to my grandmother, and
she has been as interested and anxious for the next
number as I.

My sister and I love the League with its poems,
stories, pictures, and photographs.

I read you over and over from cover to cover and
never tire.

I know I could not get along without you, and, furthermore, do
not intend to try. Now dare to ask again why I love you and
if I or any other reader agree with Whittier.

Marjorie C. Moran,

Brooklyn, N. Y.

How many of the Christmas gifts you gave last
year carried as much pleasure as St. Nicholas is
giving in Marjorie's home?

THE CENTURY CO.

Union Square . New York

The above letter is one of five prize-winning letters. See next page

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

More Real Letters to ST. NICHOLAS

Why do you think the beloved poet Whittier called St. Nicholas " the best child's periodical in
the world "?

Why do you love St. Nicholas to-day — the thousands of you who watch for it every month and
make it a family institution?

Does n't this girl's delight in St. Nicholas
give you a hint for your Christmas list?

Dkar Editor of St. Nicholas:

I think the poet Whittier spoke truly when he
called St. Nicholas the " greatest child's periodi-
cal." As a regular subscriber for five years and
as an Honor Member of the League, I think I
have found wherein lies the greatness.

Why should n't I love St. Nicholas when I have
reaped nothing but enjoyment from its stories
and profitable bits of knowledge from the articles
and the departments ?

Why should n't I love the magazine which
through months of illness has never failed to give
me an added interest to help me along the road
to health ?

Take it all in all, why should n't I love the
St. Nicholas f Sincerely yours,

Dorothy M. Rogers, Gloucester, Mass.

Are you puzzled about a gift for
"that boy"? Read this :

Dear St. Nicholas :

I cannot express a certain emotion which exists
between St. Nicholas and me. I understand that
such a spell has been called "love." Whatever
it is, the grip is like a vise which I couldn't break
if I wanted to. Sometimes when I try to think
of what I 'd like if I could get three wishes, out-
side of health and happiness, the first is — that I
may never miss a St. Nicholas ; the second, that
I may win a prize in the League's competitions.

Arthur Schwarz, Brooklyn, N. Y.

St. Nicholas has a personal quality which
makes it a specially welcome gift

To the Unseen Powers Behind St. Nich-
olas :
The underlying reason why St. Nicholas is the
best loved book of childhood is because it ap-
peals directly to them.

When a child reads it he feels that this or that
story is not for some other fellow, — but for him !
The whole magazine seems to breathe, " I am
yours."

How this wonderful result is accomplished I
cannot say, but there is a personal atmosphere
about St. Nicholas that exists in no other publi-
cation. Young folks read it from cover to cover,
afraid to miss a single page; they know from
past experience that a wonderful surprise may
be lurking in some unsuspected corner.

That is why the older folks steal away in a
silent corner to read St. Nicholas; that is why we
all love it, for we are all children at heart.
A Friend who will never outgrow
St. Nicholas, Philadelphia, Pa.

A year's subscription to St. Nicholas
brings Christmas every month

Dear St. Nicholas:

It means a good time, something to get excited
over, to talk about, to think about, and, best of
all, to know it is coming again with all its stories,
puzzles, pictures, poems, etc.

The only thing I have against St. Nicholas is :
it stops in the most interesting part of the story,
putting a " to be continued " underneath.
Your most interested reader,

Charlotte Mary Collins,
Slingerlands, N. Y.

IS YOUR LETTER AMONG THESE?

See next page for some of the good things coming in St. Nicholas during ipij

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

St. Nicholas

and its rich feast during 1913

The great English artist

Arthur Ragkham

These pictures, some in color, and some
in black and white, will be a great feature
of St. Nicholas during the coming year.

Arthur Rackham

Another fine feature of St. Nicholas

Friendship with St. Nicholas

For a few of the other good things coming in St. Nicholas during ip/j see next page

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Every number of St. Nicholas is a com-
plete, beautiful, fascinating book in it-
self, with just enough "to-be-continueds"
to keep interest at the top-notch from
month to month.

During 1913 there will be run twoof the very
best serials St. Nicholas has ever printed:

" Beatrice of Denewood," by Emilie Ben-
son Knipe and Alden Arthur Knipe, is
alive with unusual adventure, to which
the little heroine's telling constantly im-
parts a delightful humor.

In "The Land of Mystery," Cleveland
Moffett is telling one of the most stirring
and remarkable stories of adventure ever
written for young folks. The February
chapters just crackle with excitement.

From French's statue at Lincoln, Neb.

The young folks who are fortunate enough to have St. Nicholas
their comrade during 191 3 will become familiar with some of the
world's greatest men and greatest achievements. There will be
more of the stimulating "talks with boys" begun in this number
— in February, some rich gems of advice and suggestion by John
Bigelow and Jean Jules Jusserand. Miss Ariadne Gilbert's fine
series of biographical sketches, " More Than Conquerors," will
be continued. The February St. Nicholas will present " that
craggy peak among men," Lincoln, acquaintance with whom is
ennobling for every American.

Another series, rich in information and interest, will be A.
Russell Bond's stories of the wonderful details of certain of the
great constructive engineering enterprises under way in and
around New York.

What gift at a cost of $3.00 can begin to bring to the boy or
girl of your heart's interest such a mine of profit and delight
as a year's subscription to St. Nicholas ?

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

A year's subscription to St. Nicholas means
twelve gifts in one, the twelve specially
happy days of each number's arrival, twelve
months of entertainment and growth.

Why not send a year's subscription to St. Nicholas to every child on

your Christmas list? Address the publishers:

THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, NEW YORK

Or your own newsdealer will take subscriptions

A Postscript to All Boys and Girls:

A year's subscription to St. Nicholas is a splendid
gift for you to give to one of your brothers or
sisters, or your best friend. Father will help
you send the amount of your subscription safely.

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"THE MAN IN THE WILDERNESS."

PAINTED FOR ST. NICHOLAS BY ARTHUR RACKHAM.

ST. NICHOLAS

Vol. XL

JANUARY, 1913

No. 3

The Man in the Wilderness asked me
How many strawberries grew in the sea?
I answered him, as I thought good,
As many as red-herrings grew in the wood.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;

All the King's horses, and all the King's men

Cannot put Humpty Dumpty together again.

25-26.

A carrion-crow sat on an oak,

Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi-ding do,

Watching a tailor mend his cloak ;
Sing heigh, sing ho, the carrion-crow,
Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi-ding do !

Wife, bring me my old ben' bow,

Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi-ding do,
That I may shoot yon carrion-crow ;
Sing heigh, sing ho, the carrion-crow,
Fol de riddle, lol de

riddle, hi-ding do !

The tailor shot, but he missed his mark,
Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi-ding do,

And he shot the old sow right through the heart;
Sing heigh, sing ho, the carrion-crow,
Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi-ding do !

Little Miss Muffett
Sat on a tuffet,

Eating of curds and whey ;

There came a great spider
And sat down beside her,

And frightened Miss Muffett away.

194

"LITTLE MISS MUFFETT."

PAINTED FOR ST. NICHOLAS BY ARTHUR RACKHAM.

"JUST ANNA"

BY MARION HILL

"How do I look?" begged deavoring to defend the
f Olive, wrenching her eyes wearing of her own new

from the hall mirror to
bestow them coaxingly
upon that most indifferent
of admirers, a brother.
"How do I look, Dan?"

"Neat — very neat, Sis !"
he replied enthusiastically.
He was very fond of
Olive, and willing to go to extravagant lengths
of praise.

Her radiant face clouded.

"Is that all ?" came from her, inadvertently.
She was no girl to angle for compliments, but if
ever that hall mirror had reflected a pleasing face
in its life, in its long, patient, family life, it had
done so this last minute; and Olive fairly ached
for Dan to discover it.

"Yes, that 's all," he said calmly. "You 're all
right. Stop worrying !"

"How small your feet seem, Dan, in those new
tan shoes," said Olive, pensively according him
some of the balm she needed herself.

"Don't they, though?" agreed Dan, pridefully
spreading his hands in his pockets and gazing
with pleasure at his bright yellow extremities.
"Hate to waste these shoes on a picnic."

"Nothing is 'wasted' that helps us to look-
neat— very neat," gulped Olive, heroically, en-

shoes also. "And as for a
picnic, I 'd sooner look— at
least neat — at a picnic than
anywhere else. That is why
I have dressed in all my
pretty things."

Well, one thing. And as the morning wore on,
Dan and Olive both found out that, for their
parts, the picnic lacked its anticipated attraction.
In plain words, each had gone with the hope of
spending the whole lovely day with a certain per-
son who turned out not to be available. Dan had
counted upon his charming and pretty chum,
Maisie Doyle. And as she was kept at home by
the illness of her mother, no wonder Dan thought
picnics foolish. Moreover, his tight shoes were
growing tighter — it 's a way shoes have of doing
when they are least desired to do it.

196

JUST ANNA"

[Jan.,

too old for picnics. She, therefore, joined the
matrons who were setting out the lunch board.

"Let me help you, Mrs. Grey," sine said heroic-
ally, to that indefatigable sheer of cake.

"Shoo, child !" vetoed Mrs. Grey, brandishing
her knife dismissively. "Go off with the others
and have a good time !"

So Olive went off, but not to the others; the
others were mostly out of sight, though their gay
shouts kept ringing through the bushes. Older
girls than she were not too old for picnics, so it
seemed.

"Is n't this rather a bore?" asked Dan.

He strolled up, hands disdainfully in pockets,
head aristocratically high ; and he surveyed his
sister gloomily.

Dan frowningly gazed at the indicated trail,
and a belated love of scenery awoke in his heart
too.

"Come on, Olive," he invited, his face clearing,
"let 's explore that path. We 've a good half-
hour before lunch. What do you say?"

Say? She said "Yes!" with haste and delight.
To think that Dan was willing to while away the
picnic hours with his own sister ! Olive's affec-
tionate heart swelled with contentment.

But then it unswelled. For, "Hunt up another
girl to bring along with us, please," ordered Dan.
"She '11 make it less poky."

With the word "durable," a person invariably
thought of Anna Ladd. Olive looked around for
her. Nor was Anna far off, but was leaning
against a near-by tree, examining a bit of its bark.

and large hands and feet. And, whether wisely
or unwisely, she never tried to disguise these
things. At this moment, her hair was twisted
into two neat knobs, one on each side of her
head; her boots were of the high, stout, button
variety ; she wore a short, brown skirt and a long,
brown sweater ; and her neck was trimly finished
off with a white collar and a brown bow, like a
man's. The bow might have been her brother
Larry's ; it probably was.

This was the sturdy maiden whom Olive in-
vited. "It 's just Anna," said Olive to Dan. "She
was having such a lonely time by herself," she
added hypocritically.

By now poor Olive had given her own self up
as a bad job, and no longer felt surprised at the
ill speeches which fell from her tongue.

"It was good of you to ask me with you," said
Anna, as they tramped along the winding,
wooded trail. "I 've been wanting to try this
trail all morning, but was afraid."

"What of?" demanded Dan, who knew that
coyotes were very peaceful beasts, and who had
large doubts of the wildcats, and complete doubts
of the rattlesnakes.

"Losing my way," said Anna, promptly.

But Anna showed that she and common sense
were still on good terms.

"Dan," she observed, "every step we take is a
curve, and at this moment, we must have a whole
hillside between us and the trolley-line. We can
no more hear it than see it."

Whistling cheerily to show that stern thoughts
were far from him, Dan strode on, and finally
stopped at a sudden clearing of the underbrush.
The disclosed view of mountains and vales was
magnificent.

"And what do you think of that field?" asked
Dan, casually, the concealed pride of a proprietor
in his tones. The first person to come upon a
grand sight always feels like the owner of it.

"Let us get armfuls for the lunch table," cried
Olive.

And without hesitation, all three plunged down
the hillside, and were soon wading knee-deep in

I9I3-]

JUST ANNA"

197

"They 're all having lunch," mentioned Dan,
grimly.

"We had better go back to the poppy field and
try again," advised Anna. She was as hungry,
tired, and worried as the other two, but her
practical calmness never left her. It gifted her
with leadership. Dan, generally guide, found
himself taking her counsel, and glad to get it.

When, instead of reaching the poppies, they
stumbled into a new valley through which raced
a little brook, Olive broke down and cried; for
California, in the dry season, is not a land of
many brooks, and the strange sight of this one
accented the fact that they were lost indeed.

Quite as aware of this, Anna Ladd neverthe-
less took comfort where she could.

"Maybe there are fish in the brook, and we can
get something to eat," she hopefully extended.

"Going to charm them out?" asked Dan.

Olive, gaining hope from a fancy bag which
swung from Olive's belt. "Is that a work-bag?"
she asked. "Is there a spool of silk in it?"

"No," confessed Olive, answering both ques-
tions at once, and answering them with a blush.

"OLIVE BROKE DOWN AND CRIED.

The bag was a vanity bag, holding powder, a
powder-puff, and a hand-mirror. These melan-
choly details she kept to herself, contenting her-
self with the mere "No."

"Then may I destroy part of your necktie?"
asked Anna, politely, of Dan.

198

"JUST ANNA"

"Want a bent pin for a hook?" demanded Dan,
sarcastically.

But it is slow work, and a full hour more went
past before the whole catch numbered five. But
five were enough.

"And now for a fire," said Anna, throwing off
her sweater, and preparing to be cook.

Dan frantically searched his pockets.

"I have n't a match/' he said tragically.

"Larry never lets me go in the woods without
matches," said Anna, producing a box.

Dan helpfully began to pile logs for a fire.

"Now, don't be idiotic," begged Anna, gently.

Idiotic was a new word for Dan to hear from
a girl.

"Where 's the idiocy?" he asked crisply.

"Right there!" replied Anna, poking away the
logs with her foot. "You can't cook over a big
fire— not without scorching yourself. A little,
tiny fire 's the thing."

"How did you ever learn all this?" asked Olive,
watching wistfully. What were good looks in a
crisis? Worse than nothing.

"Reading boys' books and listening to Larry,"
explained Anna, sharpening some sticks on which
to roast the fish.

"Anna Ladd, put me to work," said Dan, pull-
ing his hands from his pockets, where he had
moodily rammed them. "You are the man of this
expedition, not I. It has made me angry to see
it; angry with myself, I mean. But I can at least
follow orders."

To "toast" a fish takes skill and absorbs atten-
tion. The three exiles enjoyed those underdone,
unsalted fish better than any meal of their re-
membrance ; and the warm, sandy water of the
brook tasted like iced ambrosia.

"Now, I 'm ready for anything; on with the
march," said Dan.

But he rose with a limp and wincing.

"And so am I !" declared Olive, standing first
on one foot and then on the other, her face pale
with pain.

"Am I to believe your words or your looks?"
asked Anna.

"I was vain and foolish enough to put on new,
tight shoes," confessed Olive, "and my heels are
rubbed sore."

"Same here," admitted Dan, laconically.

Olive leaned against a tree and laughed hys-
terically, while Dan carefully followed Anna's
directions in etiquette.

"When a thing has to be done, I hate to put it
off," explained Anna, apologizing for her instruc-
tions. "Put-offs pile up so that they frighten a
person into forgetting."

Soon they were on their worried way again,
but at every step gained nothing but an added
sense of bewilderment and dread. Myriads of
low hills circling around myriads of little valleys
like cauldrons, — it seemed as if the whole world
held nothing more. And at last the sun began to
dip down.

"Let us climb to the top of the highest hill we
see," counseled Anna, as a final resource. "It
sounds like a waste of time, but we '11 get a far
view, and may be able to locate ourselves."

For want of a better plan, this one was carried
out, though the ascent taxed their weary muscles
to the utmost; and the rattlesnake question had
now but the one answer : these massed boulders,
seamed and cracked and overgrown here and
there with tough shrubs, were a snake paradise.
Olive commenced to shrink every time she
stepped through a thicket.

Olive took what comfort she could out of this
device, and they reached the top of the hill.

But the view it furnished was but the prospect

'TRY IT FROM HERE,' SAID DAN." (see next page.)
199

200

"JUST ANNA"

of vaster silences, of lonelier distances. They
and the sinking sun had the big, quiet world to
themselves.

Olive dropped down into an abject little heap
and again wept.

"I can't help it," she sobbed.

"Yes !" cried Dan, at length, as the flash was
repeated. "But what can it be? We could n't see
the glint from a piece of glass at this distance."

"It 's Larry !" cried Anna. "I 'm sure of it.
But, oh, if I only had a mirror !"

"A mirror?" asked Olive, jumping up. yet not
sufficiently believing her ears to dive into her
vanity bag. "A mirror? A hand-glass?"

"Yes," mourned Anna. "The last thing we 'd
be likely to have !"

"No, indeed !" cried Olive. "Here 's one."
And she produced it from her bag as a wizard
might take a gold watch out of an egg omelet.
"But what 's the use of it?"

Anna worked faithfully but rather desperately.

"Try it from here," said Dan, indicating a
change of angle.

The dancing speck of light on the opposite hill
suddenly went out.

"Whoever it is sees me," said Anna, breath-
lessly. "I '11 send my initials, and watch what
happens !"

With trembling care, she flashed her signal
several times across the valley.

The moment of waiting was a tense one. Then
came the answer, two long flashes— L. L. Larry
Ladd.

"Here," said Anna, handing back the glass.
"Thank you. It 's Larry."

"Did you tell him we are lost?" asked Olive,
too hopeful by far.

"No," said Anna, half laughing. "I don't know
the signal code. All I can do is just to telegraph
my initials, and recognize Larry's when they
come back."

"Then how are we helped?" besought Olive.

"Because I know where Larry's corps is to-
day. It 's on Loma Galena. That mountain op-
posite is Loma Galena."

"Loma Galena?" asked Dan, incredulously.
"Right back of our house?"

"Right back of all our houses," answered Anna,
comprehensively. "And what we have to do is to
keep our eyes upon it, and make a bee-line down
into the valley and across."

Next came the beatific vision of a trolley-car.

They boarded it, and their adventure was over.

"And it 's good it 's dark, we look such sights,"
said Anna.

Anna's stout shoes looked as well as when she
had started; her short, clean skirt was still fresh
and clean; her hair was still in two tidy knobs;
her collar was trim, and her tie was taut.

Dan thought she was the goodliest sight he had
ever looked upon.

"Why have n't you joined any of our card and
dance clubs?" he asked her, suddenly.

"Because I 've never been asked," said Anna,
promptly and frankly.

"Consider yourself not only asked but begged,"
said Dan. As president of the societies men-
tioned, his word had weight.

"Consider me a member," accepted Anna,
gladly.

Later, in his own home, on his way to his room
for repairs, Dan leaned for a moment against
Olive's door and gazed interestedly at her tatters,
which she was surveying in the glass.

Olive, scoring herself in the mirror, answered
without hesitation.

"Like nineteen of them," was her verdict.

And it meant more than Dan guessed.

THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS.

THE DOCTOR: "WHAT YOU NEED IS REST.

ttivT* "Wwwrr— ■*•

RUN TV ?%Bm<3iant

"Well," said he, in anything but a friendly tone,
"what do you want ?"

Bobby jumped a little, but only from surprise.
"How do you do?" he replied, politely removing
his cap. "I "m Bobby Wentworth, and we 're at
the hotel down below, and I 've come to call."

"I never have callers," said the man, more
gently.

"I know," replied Bobby, "that 's why I came.
They said you 'd been up here alone years and
years and years; so I thought you might like to
see me a little while."

For an instant, the man's stern features re-
laxed, as though he would smile but had forgotten
how.

"I 've heard that they call me the 'Hermit'
down there,— the 'Hermit of Hemlock Hill.'
Are n't you afraid of me?"

"No," said Bobby, contemptuously. "You don't
look bad— you just look tired."

So saying, the Hermit brought out a blue plate

piled high with slices of just-baked bread, a squat
silver pitcher of molasses, and a stone jug of icy
milk.

"Now, when I get two plates, two knives and
forks, two china mugs, and the butter," said he,
"we '11 be all ready."

Ten minutes later, Bobby looked up from
spreading his fourth slice of bread, and said:
"This is awfully good bread for you to make all
by yourself. But I s'pose you 've had centuries
and centuries to learn in."

"At least it seems so to me," replied the Her-
mit, gravely.

"Were you here in the days of the giants?"
asked Bobby, eagerly.

"Well," said the Hermit, reflectively, "I might
tell you about a &oy-giant I once knew, — unless
you don't care for stories."

"Oh," cried the boy, his eyes dancing in delight-
ful anticipation, "there 's nothing I care for as
much !"

So this is what the Hermit told Bobby, as they
sat in the shade, on the top of Hemlock Hill, eat-
ing just-baked bread with molasses, and sipping
mugs of icy milk:

"Early one spring morning, ages ago, I was
awakened by a violent knocking— not on the door,
but on the roof. Getting into my clothes with
some difficulty — for I 'd been sick a long time —
I came outside, and found a giant bending over
the house, and about to knock again. He was
nearly as tall as that old pine there. I remem-

204

RUNTY, THE BOY-GIANT

ber that as one of his feet nearly covered this
little front yard, the other spread over the road.

" 'What are you trying to do,' I called, 'smash
my roof in ?'

" 'Oh, there you be !' he exclaimed, after peer-
ing all over this part of the township for me.
'No, indeed ! I 've been tryin' not to. I came to
see if you did n't need a boy to help on the farm.'

" 'Well, suppose I do,' said I, rather nettled at
being roused up in this manner. 'You have n't
happened to bring one in your pocket, have you?'

cover. As for rations, I '11 feed myself. There 's
deer, and such small fry, for the pickin', a couple
of hundred miles above here, and I can step over
there and get a bite any time.'

"'WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO,' I CALLED, 'SMASH MY ROOF IN?''

" 'I 'm wantin' to' hire out myself,' he explained,
good-naturedly smiling at my temper. 'I 'm only
a boy, I know, but I 've helped Dad with the
chores since I was no higher 'n your barn. And
I '11 come for my board and keep.'

" 'Your board and keep,' I repeated sarcas-
tically. 'The house and barn together would n't
hold much more than those feet of yours; and all
I raise in a year would make you about three
good meals !'

' 'That 's all right, mister,' replied the giant,
complacently, sitting down on that hill opposite,
in order to see me better; 'by openin' both doors,
I can get my head in the barn, and that pasture
next will make a fine bed. I never take cold
sleepin' outdoors, so long as my head 's under

"Of course he could n't. I had no right to
blame him, but it meant leaving my desk and
harnessing and hitching up, myself. 'Now go
on,' said I, 'and don't call me if you can help it.'

I CAN'T GET THIS OUTFIT TOGETHER,' HE SAID, MILDLY BEWILDERED.'

2 OS

206

RUNTY, THE BOY-GIANT

- "-1 " -A.

[Jan.,

"THERE WAS THE BOY LEANING OVER THE UNROOFED BARN.

"Just as I lost myself in my work again, there
came another call. I went out in a bad temper.
'Now what 's the matter?' I called.

"Runty was down on his knees beside the field,
holding the plow-handles between one thumb and
finger, and urging on the team with the other
hand. He looked overheated and exasperated.

"I saw how it was. It was plainly a case of a
man being too big for his job. I had to leave my
writing and do the plowing myself. I sent Runty
into the woods for fuel.

"Before I 'd worked fifteen minutes, Runty
came back with about forty big sugar-maples un-
der his arm that he 'd pulled up by the roots.

' 'What made you go and ruin my sugar-bush ?'
I shouted. 'There are plenty of other trees, and
those are the best I had !'

' 'Why, the rest of 'em was n't no bigger 'n
toadstools are where I come from,' he explained.
'I '11 just break these up in little pieces, and
leave 'em in a nice pile behind the woodshed.'

I9I3-]

RUNTY, THE BOY-GIANT

207

"I called out to him to be a man and make the
best of it, and came into the house. Having'
Runty help me farm had tired me out so that I
lay down on the old couch there, and fell asleep.

"I dreamed that, instead of being a lone hermit
on Hemlock Hill, I was the captain of the Nancy
Ann; and that I was stretched out upon a locker
in my little cabin, lazily listening to the water
lapping against the sides of the boat. Then there
came the sound of hurried oars, and something
bumped against the Nancy Ann— no,, against the
hermitage ; for I woke to see a punt floating in
that doorway ! In it were the Widow Small and
her two boys, Rather and Very, who had come
to warn me that before long the water would
reach my second story. As it was, the couch was
a foot from the ceiling when I floated out of the
door.

"The sun kept going down, until it began to
disappear right behind Runty's knees. The water
kept creeping up, until it almost touched the soles
of my carpet-slippers. If I drew up my feet, I
was liable to go over backward; so I sat watch-

ing the ripples that spread outward from the
mountain with each sob the boy gave. Just as I
was wondering if boy-giants ever cried all night,
Runty gave one big, loud sob that sent a tidal
wave over my ankles— and stopped crying. While
we were anxiously yelling all sorts of cheery
words at him, he sat still with his face in his
hands, too downcast to move.

"At last he braced up, and dried his eyes on a
bandana not quite as large as the big top at the
circus, and said good-by.

"And you never saw Runty again?" asked Bobby,
who had scarcely taken a long breath throughout
the telling.

And down Hemlock Hill went the Hermit and
the boy, in the glow of the sinking sun.

'WAITING FOR RUNTY TO
STOP CRYING."

A MERRY CHRISTMAS

BY A. L. SYKES

Bright and early to Grandma's house,

We went to spend the day ;
But snow came down, still as a mouse,

And so we had to stay.

And when the Christmas morning came,

It found us waiting there.
The shining snow was white and high,

And drifts were everywhere.

We feared that Santa could not come ;

We had no Christmas tree,
And so we did the dearest thing

That ever you did see :

We hung a tree out by the porch

With corn and bread — red apples, too;
And called the birds, and said to them :
"We 've made this Christmas tree for you.

They came in flocks — they came in crowds,

And stayed to sing, and eat, and play.
It seemed to me that they all said :
''Thank you; we like our Christmas Day!'

A curly-headed youngster of six stood on the
deck of the big ship. Across the blue water had
faded from sight the land of India, where he
had left his young, widowed mother, and all that
was dear to babyhood and life. Before him
loomed a strange English school and a strange
aunt. When the little boy knelt down at night
to pray, he would ask God to make him dream of
his mother, and let him see again, if only in his
sleep, those gray eyes full of light. The thoughts
that struggled in his child-heart, however, were
not trusted to the black servant beside him, or
even to the other little boy, Richmond Shakspear,
who, like him, was leaving his India home. No-
body would understand those puzzling thoughts.
Locked away very deep in William Makepeace
Thackeray's young heart lay the memory of part-
ing,—the old ghaut, or river stair, which led
down to the boat; the quaver in his mother's
voice ; the blur in his sight and the choke in his
throat ; and of those strange good-bys. Perhaps
there floated, too, in his tender memory, a vision
of his own portrait painted some years before
in far-away Calcutta : a white-dressed, round-
eyed boy of three perched on a pile of big books,
with his arms clasped round his mother's neck.
Such a beautiful, tall mother for a little boy to
sail away from to find that queer thing called
"education." But he was sailing farther and far-
ther every minute, under the long reach of sky.
At last, one morning, after many days, they
came in sight of the rock-bound island of St.
Helena, rising out of the sea like a great gray
cone ; and, harbored there, the black servant took
the two boys ashore to see a famous French
soldier. After they had gone a long way over
rocks and hills, they came to a garden where a
Vol. XL. — 27. 209

man with folded arms and bowed head was walk-
ing among the flowers. "There he is," said the
black man; "that is Bonaparte. He eats three

'"THERE HE IS. THAT IS BONAPARTE.

sheep every day, and all the little children he can
lay his hands on." The cherry-cheeked William

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From Thackeray's own account and his "Doc-
tor" in "Pendennis," we can imagine his first
impressions of Charterhouse, and his feelings to-
ward the principal, whose name he has grace-
fully changed. As the child entered with his
shining, fresh face and his shining, white collar,
Dr. Crushall thundered out in a "big, brassy
voice," "Take that boy and his box to Mrs. Jones,
and make my compliments to Mr. Smiler, and tell
him the boy knows nothing, and will just do for
the lowest form." As far as lessons went, the
boy never knew a great deal ; but "he read any-
thing he could lay his hands on; he acted when
he had the chance; he debated." His friends
thought of him as a broad-set, lazy child, with
rosy cheeks, dark hair, and blue eyes, all. a-twin-
kle. When he should have been working sums,
he was generally covering his books and papers
with comical drawings, which he "chucked about"
among his schoolmates. His power of mimicry
and sense of fun were so tremendous that no
teacher was safe from his perfect imitation, his
unmistakable caricatures, or his ridicule in verse.
There were some verses on "Violets, dark blue
violets" which young Thackeray cleverly paro-
died in "Cabbages, bright green cabbages," re-
citing the lines in tenderly sentimental tones.

Yet here at the Charterhouse, Thackeray made
some lifelong friends: his cousin Richmond
Shakspear, Alfred Gatty, George Venables, and
John Leech, who, when he grew up, became the
humorous artist of "Punch." How well he re-
membered "small John Leech, coming first to
school and being put up upon a table, in a little
blue jacket and high buttoned trousers, and made
to sing to the other boys, as they stood round-
about." Still better he remembered George
Venables. One wet half -holiday, a boy named
Glossip went to the monitor to ask leave for
Thackeray and Venables to fight. That was an
unlucky day for William, whose middle name
was Makepeace. Into the battle he went with all
zeal, and out of it he came with a broken nose.
Far from treasuring ill feeling against his van-
quisher, however, he and George Venables were
friends forever more.

5 ' "

i u,i«i|

TELL HIM THE BOY KNOWS NOTHING.'"

211

212

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[Jan.,

land, and entered the Middle Temple for that
purpose. At first he seemed to look forward
happily to practising at the bar; but soon he
found dry law-books very hard reading. So it
happened that as soon as he became of age, July
18, 1832 (the day for which he had "panted so
long," and the day on which he inherited his
father's fortune), the first thing he did was to
give up the study of law. "I can draw better
than I can do anything else," he said to himself,
and took his way to Paris, to "make believe to be
a painter." Here, while he was out-of-doors, he
lived the free life that he afterward described in
writing of Clive Newcome; but, at other times,
he might have been seen, day after day, copying
pictures in the Louvre, honestly trying to excel
in the art he loved. As a side interest, he corre-
sponded for the Paris papers.

His history now led to a combination of fail-
ures, which, while they were a loss in money,
were a gain in common sense and application. In
the false hope of good luck, Thackeray had gam-
bled with his newly acquired wealth, at an im-
mense loss, and, generally, "made a gaby" of
himself. Before long the bank in India failed.
Then the paper failed in which he and his step-
father had mutual interests. This last failure
came when Thackeray was twenty-five, just six
months after his marriage. As he said, it made
him "work for bread"— the best thing that could
have happened. Now he attempted to illustrate
"Pickwick Papers," but his drawings were re-
fused ; and again the would-be-artist faced fail-
ure, and wondered what other line of work he
might try. It seems good to the book-reading
world that, even in Thackeray's extremity, his
drawings were refused, and that marriage and
poverty and failure forced him to be an author.
Before we turn, however, from his artist to his
author life, let us mark that he was "the only
great author who illustrated his own books." As
he once said, when he was sick, "The artist who
usually illustrates my works fell ill with myself."

In his earliest writings, Thackeray so lacked
confidence that he published his work anony-
mously. He masked as "Titmarsh," "Theophile
Wagstaff," "Fitz-Boodle," "Yellowplush," "Spec,"
"Major Gahagan," and many others, shyly hiding
his own face. And yet, no matter how much
he doubted his ability — and he did doubt it— in
favor of success were his robust health, his strong
brain, and his powerful love. With the high
motive of caring for a dear wife, any real man
could rally from a money defeat, and Thackeray
was not the one to be depressed by little things.
From now on, constitutionally idle though he
was, he worked night and day for those he loved,

And yet this sorrow, great as it was, could be
shared. A year later fell a greater sorrow which
he had to bear alone — his wife's sickness, which
was more than sickness, for she was slowly losing
her mind. Only Thackeray's best friends knew
how he clung to her companionship, and how he
fought for her cure. He tried to nurse her him-
self. As he said, he "used to walk out three
miles to a little bowling-green and write there
in an arbor, coming home and wondering what
was the melancholy oppressing the poor little
woman"; and, looking back on life, "What a deal
of cares and pleasures and struggles and happi-
ness I have had since that day in the little sun-
shiny arbor." In a vain hope to save her, he
took her home to Ireland and her people, and
then went from one watering-place to another,
until, finally, there was nothing to do but place
her in a private asylum in Paris.

At the beginning of the trouble, the little
London home on Great Coram Street had been
broken up, and the two children, Annie, a "fat
lump of pure gold," and Baby Minnie, had been
sent to live with their Grandmother Butler in
Paris. They stayed there for some time after
Thackeray had lost in the battle for his wife's
reason; while the lonely father lodged near the
asylum, first in one place, then in another, once
more a bachelor except for his burden of love.
Yet, again, only his closest friends began to know
how deeply the sorrow had hewn itself into his
life ; he wore a smile for the outer world, and
still sent playful letters to his children, though
they were sometimes written in a trembling hand.

I9I3-]

A MODERN GREATHEART

213

copy puts sevenpence halfpenny into Thackeray's
pocket, which is not very heavy just now."

Fitz Gerald was right. For a while, even
sevenpence halfpenny counted with his home-
loving, homeless friend. Visions of empty mugs

THACKERAY OFFERING THE GINGERBREAD-MAN.

must have haunted the dear man ; he drove him-
self through his tasks "for beef and mutton," and
was very busy, writing hard every day, and very
poor, nevertheless.

Just as soon as he was able to do so, late in the
autumn of 1846, he moved to 13 Young Street,
in London, and brought his babies there to live.

We can imagine him, a sort of giant of a man,
"six feet two, and largely built," standing once
more before his own fire, his feet spread wide,
his hands crammed deep into his pockets, a smile
on that pleasant face, and a twinkle shining be-
hind the glasses ; or, perhaps,
as holding Annie on his broad
lap and teaching her to read
from the funny alphabet-
pictures he had made. For
both children he used to tear
out processions of paper pigs
with curly tails. The com-
panionship of his little girls
was the dearest thing he had
left now. As they grew
older, he stole many happy
holidays to take them to
plays or to children's parties,
which were often held at the
Dickens's. He loved to see
"the little ones dancing in a
ring," especially his own, one
with her "hair plaited in two
tails," and the other with
curls and the "most fascinat-
ing bows of blue ribbon."
Still better, he loved to take
them driving in the country
or to the Zoo. It put him in
"such chirping spirits to get
out of London." As for the
Zoo, they used to "amuse
themselves in finding like-
nesses to their friends in many
of the animals." "Thank
'E'v'ns !" Thackeray once ex-
claimed, "both of the girls
have plenty of fun and hu-
mor."

While we are thinking of
Thackeray with his own chil-
dren, let us remember him,
too, with the children of
others, for he had a "mar-
velous affection" for all little
boys and girls. Perhaps it
was just this all-fathering
nature of his, or perhaps it
was the memory of the dar-
ling who slept beneath the grass and stars, that
led him, in 1853, to adopt a third daughter, Amy
Crowe, the child of one of his friends. At any rate,
he did adopt her, and made her his own forever.
During his student days at Weimar, when he
was hardly more than a boy, one of his chief
delights had been to make caricatures for chil-

214

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[Jan.,

dren, and, years later, he began the drawings for
"The Rose and the Ring," because his little girls
had wanted pictures of the king and queen in
"Twelfth Night." It was while they were travel-
ing in Naples, when an attack of scarlatina kept
the children indoors and away from their friends,
that the story grew to fit the pictures. It was writ-
ten with the famous gold pen. In referring to this
time, Thackeray said that he wrote "nonsensical
fairy tale" instead of collecting material for "The
Newcomes." All his life, though, his chief desire
had been to write "something good for children."
As soon as he had "made a competence" for his
own "young ones," he had determined to do
something "for the pleasure of young ones in
general."

Our minds are full of pictures of the kind old
"giant" happy with little children. Now he bends
over a small, yellow head ; now he simply stands
still to watch a child nibble the gingerbread-man
he has tucked into her hand, his spectacles grow-
ing misty at her rapture of surprise. But he is
gone without thanks ! Once, while he was in
America, a little girl who was too small to see
a procession, found herself suddenly lifted by
strong arms, and placed on a high, broad shoul-
der. Some days after, when that child was out
walking with her mother, she stopped still as she
saw Thackeray coming, and, pointing an eager
finger, exclaimed : "There he is ; there 's my big
Englishman !" That same Englishman wrote,
from New Orleans, that the colored children
"ruined him in five-cent pieces." On the train
for Heidelberg, he made friends with the "two
children in black" described in "The Roundabout
Papers"— the real account of a real holiday taken
with his "little girls." How often he sat among
his friends' children asking by name for all their
dolls ! Once he stopped a procession of school-
girls, saying, "Four and twenty little girls !
They must have four and twenty bright little
sixpences." And, going over the names at
Charterhouse on Founder's Day, he would ex-
claim, "Here 's the son of dear old So-and-So ;
let 's go and tip him." As he told Dickens, he
could "never see a boy without wanting to give
him a sovereign." "Ah ! my dear sir," he wrote
in a Roundabout Paper, "if you have any little
friends at school, go and see them, and do the
natural thing by them. You won't miss the sov-
ereign. Don't fancy they are too old— try 'em."
And again, "It is all very well to say that boys
contract habits of expecting tips. Fudge ! Boys
contract habits of tart and toffee-eating which
they do not carry into after life. On the con-
trary, I wish I did like tarts and toffee."

A pretty story is told of him when he was once

invited, by a family of children, to stay to dinner.
"There is nothing, my dears, you can give me,"
he argued, "for I could only eat a chop of a
rhinoceros or a slice from an elephant."

"Yes, I tan," answered a little girl of three,
and off she trotted, coming back in a few mo-
ments with a wooden rhinoceros and a wooden
elephant from her Noah's ark.

With children he was always playful, like this,
but when he just stood by to see children, espe-
cially when they sang,— for he was passionately
fond of music, — their young quaverings filled his
old heart, and choked his voice, and flooded his
eyes with tears. "Children's voices charm me
so," he said, "that they set all my sensibilities
in a quiver." Once he entered a school-room just
as the children were singing, in sweetly tuneless
notes, "O Paradise, O Paradise." "I cannot
stand this any longer," he mumbled to the teacher,
turning away his head and moving toward the
door. "My spectacles are getting very dim."

"There is one day in the year," he wrote,
"when I think St. Paul's presents the noblest sight
in the whole world: when five thousand charity
children, with cheeks like nosegays, and sweet,
fresh voices, sing the hymn which makes every
heart thrill with praise and happiness. I have
seen a hundred grand sights in the world— coro-
nations, Parisian splendors, Crystal Palace open-
ings—but think in all Christendom there is no
such sight as Children's Day."

I 've helped him to pen many a line for bread,

To joke, with sorrow aching in his head,

And make your laughter when my own heart bled.

To be sure, Thackeray, himself, laughed at all
falsity, and laughed heartily ; he could not endure
an affected person or a person who posed ; he had
to have a man all-honest like himself. And be-
cause he laughed at life's shams, some of the

I9'3-]

A MODERN GREATHEART

215

people who heard him laugh forgot his wonderful
sympathy.

Thackeray said that his characters made them-
selves, and that they acted without his interfer-
ence. "I don't control my characters. I am in

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

their hands," he repeatedly declared. When a
friend asked him why he made Esmond marry
Lady Castlewood, he answered, perfectly serious,
"I did n't make him do it; they did it them-
selves." Yet "Henry Esmond" was the one novel
for which he drew up a plot. Favorite that it
was, he said, "I stand by this book, and am will-
ing to leave it where I go, as my card." For the
most part, however, he doubted his own ability,
and believed that his books were failures, com-
menting with such impersonal frankness as, "I
have just read such a stupid part of 'Pendennis.'
But how well written it is !"

His characters' homes were as real to him as
his own, and their troubles almost as real. The
tax-collector, coming in one day, found him cry-
ing over the death of Helen Pendennis. "She
had to die," he said, though his little daughter
Minnie had begged him to "make
her well again."

His sympathy for flesh-and-
blood people was, of course, even
greater than his sympathy for
book-people. When he was edi-
tor of "The Cornhill Magazine,"
he really suffered over the sad
letters of many who dreamed that
they could write. "Here is a case
put with true female logic. 'I am
poor ; I am good ; I am ill ; I
work hard ; I have a sick mother
and hungry brothers and sisters
dependent on me. You can help
us if you will.' " Such letters
wrung the kind editor's heart, and
no one knows how often he an-
swered by his own personal
check. No one knows, either,
how much valuable time he spent
in trying to frame replies at once
honest and tender. Some of the
contributors asked for criticisms;
others even asked him to rewrite,
if he could not understand, their
nonsense. In fact, the editorship
of the "Cornhill" wore Thackeray
out. With great relief, in 1862,
he resigned.

216

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[Jan.,

when she is tired, reads 'Nicholas Nickleby' ;
when she is in bed, reads 'Nicholas Nickleby';
when she has nothing to do, reads 'Nicholas
Nickleby' ; and when she has finished the book,
reads 'Nicholas Nickleby' again. This candid
young critic, at ten years of age, said : 'I like
Mr. Dickens's books better than your books,
Papa,' and frequently expressed her desire that

0'. F Schrft/ff:

"'THE LAST SHEET OF "THE VIRGINIANS" HAS JUST GONE TO THE PRINTER!'

This was his spirit toward all his rivals. In
Anne's diary we read of his failure in the elec-
tion to the House of Commons: "Papa came
home beaten, in capital spirits." And we know
that he shook his opponent's hand, with all his
big heartiness. When he found that his "very
two nights" for lecturing in Baltimore had been
chosen by a large opera company, he exclaimed:
"They are a hundred wanting bread, — shall we
grudge them a little of the butter off ours?"

Yet Thackeray bitterly needed the money from
those lectures, that is, he needed it for his wife
and children. For them and them alone, he had

voice, he had recited the multiplication table to
a waiter in a restaurant ; but how could he
strengthen his courage? Night after night, that
attack of fear returned ; and night after night,
the beloved giant went through his painful task,
for money for the children. When at last he
sailed for England, he went off in a rush, the
very morning he saw the ship advertised. It was
easier to scribble, "Good-by, Fields ; good-by,
Mrs. Fields ; God bless everybody, says W. M. T.,"
than to utter that hard farewell. Thackeray
reached the Europa at the cry, "Hurry up, she 's
starting!" Let us sail on with him.

From his own "White Squall" we get a peep into
his home-seeking heart, on days of storm at sea:

I thought, as day was breaking,
My little girls were waking,
And smiling, and making
A prayer at home for me.

His daughter Anne lets us welcome him with the
family: "My sister and I sat on the red sofa in
the little study, and shortly before the time we

I9U-]

A MODERN GREATHEART

217

His greeting at another time, from the dog,
Gumbo, is hardly less picturesque. When the
little black-and-tan saw the cab driving up the
street with Thackeray inside, "with one wild
leap from the curbstone, he sprang" into the
carriage and landed safe on his master's knees,
"knocking off his spectacles, and licking his face
all over."

Through the eyes of other folks we see him in
all these ways — the beneficent, tender-hearted
man "whose business was to 'joke and jeer.'"
And we like to thumb his old letters, filled as they
are with comic pictures and with purposely mis-
spelled words (to be pronounced lispingly or
Englishly or through the nose, for Thackeray was
as whimsical as Charles Lamb). "Did you 2 have
a nice T?" is characteristic, and such signatures
as "Bishop of Mealy Potatoes," "Yours Distract-
edly, Makepeace," "G. B. Y.l" (for God bless
you ! ) , or any of a hundred others.

Since this "big Cornish giant" loved his meals,
of course we would rather dine with him than
read his letters; but we must take our chances
with all his other friends of his missing his ap-
pointment. He once neglected a dinner with a
"very eminent person" because he saw beans
and bacon on the menu of the Reform Club,—
his grounds for declining the dinner being "he
had just met a very old friend whom he had not
seen for years, and from whom he could not tear
himself." Another time he was late to a dinner
when he, himself, was host. The guests waited
and waited; no Thackeray. At last, when the
dinner was half-spoiled, he bounded in, clapping
his still inky hands, and shouting, "Thank
Heaven, the last sheet of 'The Virginians' has
just gone to the printer !"

With J. T. Fields, we see him lunching on
American oysters, rejecting a large one because
"it resembled the High Priest's servant's ear that
Peter cut off," and then opening his mouth very

wide for another. After that had slipped down,
and Fields asked him how he felt, "Profoundly
grateful," Thackeray gulped, "and as if I had
swallowed a baby."

That evening the mournful news was brought
to the meeting of Thackeray's fellow-workers on
the English comic journal "Punch." "I '11 tell you
what we '11 do,"one said, "we '11 sing the dear old
boy's 'Mahogany Tree'; he 'd like it." And so
they all stood up, their choking voices missing
the brave, sweet tenor of their friend, and their
hearts needing his warmth ; but they all stood up
and sang, as best they could, Thackeray's own
well-known words :

Christmas is here :
Winds whistle shrill,
Icy and chill, —
Little care we;

Here let us sport,
Boys, as we sit ;
Laughter and wit
Flashing so free.

Life is but short ;
When we are gone,
Let them sing on
Round the old tree!

In Kensal Green cemetery, a few steps from
Leech, co-worker and fun-maker on "Punch,"
Thackeray lies asleep. The English ivy grows
thick over his grave, clothing his place of rest
with a summer mantle, and keeping his memory
alive beneath the snow. - His friend Lord Hough-
ton was very angry because no room was made
for Thackeray in Westminster Abbey. Happily
our greatness is not measured by our graves, but
by our monuments in human hearts.

Vol. XL.— 28.

M-i

i& V

era

I used to like the June days best, but that was back in June ;

And then it seemed that August was the best of all the year ;
Along came crisp October, and I sang another tune ;

December 's now my favorite — oh, just because it 's here !
The June days are joy days,

That bring the end of school,
And August days are boy days,
§g For swimming in the pool;
October days are sport days,
When down the ripe nuts fall—
(j December days are short days,
But jolliest of all !

**»

"»/

With skimming o'er the frozen lake and coasting down the hill,
There 's not a dreary moment in the day for girls and boys ;
The snowman by the captured fort with battle joy must thrill —
But he can't read beside the fire, and dream of Christmas joys !
Oh, May days are gay days,
In southland or in north ;
July days are high days,
Especially the Fourth !
Then fall days, foot-ball days—
I 'm quarter-back, you know ;
But December, please remember,
Brings Christmas and the snow !

218

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

(A sequel to " The Lucky Sixpetue")

BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE

Chapter V

I FIND A TIN TEA-CADDY

With a cry of terror, I sank to my knees and hid
my face in my hands, too frightened now to run. Just
then there came an agonizing cry from the Magus.

"An you go too close you 're like to get the bul-
let," shouted Bart, his pistol still pointed toward
the apparition ; " 't is in my mind to find out how
much good lead a ghost can carry."

He was about to fire, when little Peg flew to-
ward us.

"D-d-do not s-s-shoot," she exclaimed at the
top of her voice. At this Bart hesitated.

"Why not?" he demanded, as Peg came up.

' 'T is a bony spirit," came the cry of a
strange voice from the midst of the struggle. "I
warrant he will lay quiet now for a while,"
he .ended with a laugh that sounded very out of
place to our overwrought nerves.

Bart at once made for the spot, his pistol still
in his hand, and I, feeling safer with him, seized
Peg and followed.

"I s-s-saw him," chattered Peg, as we went
along; "he c-c-came out of the w-w-woods just
after the f-f-funny b-bogy !"

We came up to the scene of the struggle, but it
had ceased. The spook lay upon its back, and a
stout lad of about fourteen was sitting upon it,
grinning joyfully as we approached him.

" 'T is not worth wasting good powder on this,"
said the stranger. "He 's limp enough, and so
bundled up with his ghost clothes that 't was
scarce fair to fight him."

"Let 's see what he looks like," suggested Bart,
for there was no face visible, a long garment of
some sort being tied atop of his crown and sur-
mounted by a collar, giving him the appearance
of having no head ; but that he had one was plain
to see, for we could make out the shape of it be-
neath the flimsy cloth.

"Now keep still," cried Bart to the ghost, "or
I '11 make a real wraith of you."

"Aye, master," came a muffled and trembling
voice from beneath the stuff, "I '11 lay like a lamb,
an you promise not to shoot."

"And here 's his other head," said the stranger,
picking it up. "Had I not seen him putting the
shiny stuff in his eyes, I might have been frighted
myself, though I take no great stock in old wives'
tales." He held out the skull for us to look at.

"How did you see it, and where have you come
from?" asked Bart; for now his curiosity about
this boy came uppermost in his mind.

"I was in the woods," answered the other, a
little embarrassed, I thought, "and I saw you tie
up the horses. I wondered what you were going
to do with your lanthorn and spade, and so made
up my mind to follow. I had given you time to
get a start and was about to go on myself, when
this fellow came up on another mule, and I
waited to see what he was about. He did n't
keep me waiting long. After he had tied his
beast a little way from the others, he took out
this ghost dress and the skull, and I saw him put
the shiny stuff in its eyes and rub it on his

219

220

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Jan.,

clothes. Then he followed your light, which was
plain to be seen, and I took after him. He hid
behind one tree, waiting, I doubt not, for his
signal, and I behind another."

"I s-s-saw y-you all the t-t-time," Peg broke in,
"but the g-g-ghost was f-f- farther off."

"Well," said Bart, " 't is lucky you came along,
or we should have settled this ghost right
enough."

At first we saw nothing of him, all of us hav-
ing looked in the direction of the stone where he
had last been ; but little Peg spied him.

"T-t-there h-h-he is," she cried, pointing ;
"he 's d-d-digging up the t-t-treasure."

And sure enough, there in the hole we had
been digging was the Magus, shoveling out the
dirt for dear life, his thin back rising and falling
rapidly as he delved into the earth.

"Hi there ! Get out of that, Schmuck," shouted
Bart; but the Magus paid no heed, and Bart
started toward him.

"You keep this fellow here," he said to the
stranger. " 'T will be worth your while. I '11
attend to the Magus."

He went on quickly, and I followed, dragging
out my pistol from under my cloak, for Schmuck
was no boy, but a man grown, and likely to take
more than words to frighten.

"I am but earning my fee," he snarled then.

"Your fee !" cried Bart, "when you intended to
scare us from our treasure and take it all your-
self?"

"I?" ejaculated the Magus, affecting indigna-
tion ; "sure here 's ingratitude ! To try to ruin a
poor man's reputation when he 's found you a
fortune."

"Then why did you have your servant dressed
like a spook if 't were not your intention to in-
timidate us?" demanded Bart, giving me a mean-
ing glance.

"You call that fool my servant," Schmuck

burst out angrily. "More like you have employed
him to give you an excuse not to pay me."

"Now I know you are false to us, Schmuck, for
the boy acknowledged he was your son," said
Bart, triumphantly.

"Did he so?" muttered the Magus, savagely.
"T is a good beating he '11 get if I 'm his father."

"That is a family affair," Bart laughed; "but
now, come you out of that." And again he aimed
the pistol threateningly.

Schmuck hesitated for a moment, then, winc-
ing at the pistol held so close to him, he thought
better of his decision, and stepped out of the hole.

"As you please," he grumbled, with a shrug of
his narrow shoulders ; "but we may as well go
home. You would not heed my warning, and all
my spells are undone. You will find naught in
the hole now but dirt."

"But there is something there, Bart," I de-
clared. "Do you suppose I screamed like that
for nothing?"

For a moment, Bart seemed undecided, for he
had no liking to leave the Magus unguarded
while he went after the treasure himself.

With considerable effort he lifted a bundle out
of the hole and placed it at our feet. This was
evidently the yielding object that my spade had
struck, for it was a huge patchwork quilt, much
stained with earth and water. The four corners
were gathered together and tied in a bunch with
cord. I leaned down and felt of it, and finding
that it contained many hard and oddly shaped
forms, I at once jumped to the conclusion that
they were silver vessels of some sort.

" 'T is a pirate hoard, without doubt," I told
Bart.

"Good !" he cried, becoming near as excited as
I. "Is there aught else in the hole, Magus?" he
added.

"There's a small coffer here," was the surly reply.

"Up with it," Bart commanded ; and a moment
later a brass-bound coffer stood beside us.

"There 's naught else," said Schmuck at last,
stepping out and making a motion to put himself
at Bart's back and so avoid the pistol; but Bart
turned and faced him, still aiming resolutely.

"Nay, you said there was naught there once
before," he remarked; "we '11 see ourselves
whether you are telling the truth this time. Go
down, Bee, and take a look while I keep this fel-
low in order."

I9I3-]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

221

So down into the hole I went, taking the lan-
thorn with me, while Bart guarded the Magus.

Meanwhile Bart and the Magus stood in si-
lence awaiting my verdict.

"There is naught else of worth here, Bart," I
said, climbing up to level ground.

At this the Magus fell to his knees with a cry
of supplication.

"Nay, young master, do not do that. 'T will
be my ruin. Take the treasure, and let me go.
'T is all I ask."

"Aye, after you find that you could n't frighten
us with your ghosts and make way with it all !"

"Truly the treasure was in some measure mine
also," answered the Magus, with a whine.
"Though I knew not when we started what it
was we went to seek."

"How do you make that out?" demanded Bart.
' 'T was plain enough you knew Hans Kalb-
fleisch, but that gave you no right to the trea-
sure."

"I will confess, young master, if you will let

me go my way," pleaded the diviner. "I ask for
no part of the treasure."

"Nay, I make no promises," answered Bart;
"but say on, and, if I find you are telling truth,
we will see."

After some further parleying, Bart consented
to give the Magus his liberty on one condition.

"You must help carry the treasure to our
horses," he insisted, to which the Magus, glad to
have freedom at any price, readily consented.

Peggy brought up in the rear, dancing along
in the best of spirits, and vowing every few min-
utes that she had never had so much fun.

222

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[Jan.,

The gray light of early dawn showed the man
more clearly than I had seen him under the fitful
glow of the lanthorn, and I looked him over curi-
ously.

"Please, master, let me go," begged Schmuck,
once more.

"Shall I give him some money?" Bart whis-
pered to me. "I '11 be glad to see the last of
him."

"Aye," was my loudly spoken answer, "we '11
let him go after he 's given us what he took from
the tea-caddy he found in the hole."

Chapter VI

BASE METAL

This he evidently realized as soon as we, for,
without a word of denial, he turned in his tracks
and started off toward his mule.

So quickly did it all happen, that he had al-
most gained his beast before any of us came to
our senses. Then Bart, calling upon him to stop,
aimed his pistol. But the Magus neither turned
nor slackened his speed, and again Bart shouted
to him to halt.

The poor beast tugged at its halter as the
Magus urged it on, but the strap held, and we
hurried forward, shouting.

Now, however, we had a new man to deal with.
Whatever it was he had hidden, he meant to keep
it at any cost, and, dropping to the far side of his
animal, he slipped into the woods.

Bart snapped his pistol at him, but it missed
fire, and, with a growl of disappointment, he

He plunged his hand inside the man's shirt,
and, fumbling about, brought forth a small pack-
age, which, after a scant look, he handed to me.

" 'T is not worth the trouble, I vow," he re-
marked, getting up from the ground; "but take
care of it, Bee, and we '11 look it over anon."

"And now, Schmuck," he went on, regarding
the prostrate man at our feet; "get yourself up,
and march with me to the jail."

"Now that 's well thought of," he answered
back in a whisper, and then went on loudly, to

I9I3-]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

223

the Magus, "We 're going to let you off,
Schmuck ; but have a care what you do, or we
will clap you into jail."

Bart took my pistol, and, telling the strange
boy to loose the bonds of the Magus, he bade the
latter take his donkey and go.

I expected that Schmuck would be overjoyed
at the prospect of keeping his liberty, and would
hurry away at all speed ; but in this I was mis-
taken. He stood sulkily, his head dropped to his
breast, eying us venomously from under his
brows, and muttering to himself the while. Once
or twice he started toward his tethered animal,
and as often turned back, and made as if to
speak. Seeming to think better of it, he held his
tongue. At last, because of an impatient word
from Bart, he shook his head and strode over to
his mule. Loosening it with an angry jerk, he
bestrode the patient little animal and prepared
to ride away, shaking his fist angrily at us.

"Where 's the ghost ?" exclaimed Bart, when
we were beginning to come to our senses, and
we looked around, expecting to see the thin youth
somewhere in sight, but he, too, had disappeared,
and we guessed he had taken advantage of the
excitement to steal off.

There was naught left now but to mount and
take our treasure back to Denewood, where, in
safety and seclusion, we could overhaul it at our
leisure.

"You have aided us so greatly," I said to him,
"is there aught we can do to help you?"

Then, as I saw Bart looked surprised at my
taking the matter on my shoulders, I explained,
"I know who he is."

Whereat the lad interrupted me, with a pleased

face : "I did n't think you 'd remember me, miss,
but I knew you at once."

It was my turn to be surprised, and I looked at
him closely as he went on.

Still I had no recollection of the boy. I racked
my brains to place him, as I said, "At any rate
you must let us help you."

But he shook his head.

"I 'm on my way to Philadelphia," he told me.
"I mean to be a soldier."

"You can't go in to Philadelphia," I cried,
clasping my hands. "Don't you know you are
advertised for in the news sheets? There 's a
reward out for you."

"Is that so? But how did you guess it was
for me?" The boy asked curiously. "I .never
told you my name,— though 't is Mark Powell,"
he added.

"I knew by the scar," I answered, puzzled.

"But I did n't have it then," said the boy, put-
ting his hand to his head.

" 'T is in the newspapers, of course," I ex-
plained impatiently, "and you '11 be taken if you
go into town."

"I 'm not ashamed of leaving my master," an-
nounced the lad. "I would have stayed, but he
wanted to make a Tory spy of me. I mean to buy
my freedom as soon as I can earn the money."

"We '11 take you to Denewood with us," said
Bart, "till we see what John advises."

'T was high time for us to be on the road if we
were not to have our secret known at home. The
two boys quickly loaded our treasure-trove on
the horses, and we all mounted and were off.

224

BEATRICE OE DENEWOOD

a an.,

Then a thought came to plague me.

"Bart," I said, "if we take Mark with us, the
Mummers will give him up. They think it a duty
to return escaped bond-servants to their mas-
ters."

"Then we '11 hide him," cried Bart, impatiently.
"Denewood is big enough to conceal a regiment,
and men have been hid there before" ; which was
true, indeed.

"W-w-will he o-o-open them before we g-g-get
there?" asked Peg, in a distressed voice.

"I don't know," I answered, "but we '11 soon
see."

We found Bart walking up and down the floor
of the barn, guarding his treasures.

"At last !" he cried, when he saw us ; "I thought
you were never coming. What in the world has
kept you?"

"We had to dust, and to lay out linen, and—
and, oh, a score of things, which all take time,"
I explained ; "but what was in the bundle and the
coffer? I am dying to know."

"Think you I would be so mean as to open
them before you came?" asked Bart. "They are
as you left them, and we will look at what they
contain together."

"Now it was good of you to wait !" I ex-
claimed, for I knew he was, if anything, more
impatient than we.

So impatient that we could hardly restrain our-

" 'T is only silver after all !" he murmured, and
began to rummage through the objects to dis-
cover the gold and jewels he had hoped for. I
picked up a small pitcher and went with it to the
light. My heart had sunk with the suspicion
that we might expect a still further disappoint-
ment, and, indeed, upon examination, I discov-
ered that our find was not even silver.

' 'T is but pewter, Bart," I told him ; "we have
been fooled. 'T is worth naught."

"It can't be !" he cried in distress ; but, though
he searched through the pile of utensils, there
was naught but pewter to reward him.

"Now this is too bad!" he exclaimed; "but
mayhap the chest is what we 're looking for."
And at once he started prying open the small
coffer.

Again we were doomed to disappointment. All
we found was a quantity of little phials and
packages.

Bart's disappointment was keener than ours.
He had wanted to win a commission, and now he
saw no hope of it.

"Aye, that 's it," he agreed ; "but," he went on,
after a moment's thought, "why should old
Schmuck have been so keen for it? He would
n't have been so anxious after a lot of paltry
pewter."

19I3-]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

225

The packet was quite clean save for a trace
here and there of the Magus's muddy fingers. It
was wrapped so carefully that, as I looked at it,
it flashed over me that this was a great deal of

"A good, fat lock it must be," I laughed dis-
dainfully.

"Well, miss, since you are so wise, what is it?"
demanded Bart, good-naturedly.

"You would never guess," I answered ; "but
know you not that a gipsy told me I should
find fortune across great waters? Now I 've
crossed the ocean, and this is the fortune, of
course."

"Nay, now," Bart put in, "when I heard that
tale before 't was happiness you were to find

;

jW;'

'' ':• ;

"'I AM BUT EARNING MY FEE,' HE SNARLED.'

trouble to take for a thing of little worth. Yet
what could it be ? I turned it in my fingers medi-
tatively.

"Let 's a-a-all g-g-guess," suggested Peggy,
ever ready for a game.

"And whoever guesses right shall keep it,"
cried Bart.

"Nay," I said gaily, "you cannot dispose of my
property, sir. You have already given it to me."

"W-w-what do you think it is, B-B-Bee?"
asked Peggy, pinching the package. "I t-t-think
't is a s-s-set of r-ruffles."

"That 's your guess, is it, Peg?" said Bart.
"Very well. I think it is a lock of a lady's hair."
Vol. XL. — 29.

across the waters. Think you happiness comes
packed in such small parcels?"

"Oh, q-q-quit your q-q-quarreling !" said Peg,
"and do let us s-s-see what it is !"

"This grows exciting," said Bart, "my heart

226

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

"'WHO WAS THAT LOOKING IN AT THE DOOR?'"

misgives me that I did wrong to give it away so
lightly. Mayhap there 's a portrait of the lovely
lady as well as the lock of her hair."

' 'T is mine now, at any rate," I made answer,
and, carefully taking off the silvered paper, I
held up the contents of the parcel for all to see.

A fortune indeed, for
't was money I had in
my hand !

"Continental shinplais-
ters," scoffed Bart, "that
even Hessians would n't
bother to carry away."

"Bart!" I cried, as I
examined them. "They
are Bank of England
notes !"

With a shout of joy,
he took them from me.

"Aye, you 're right,
Bee !" he exclaimed, as
he fingered them ; "they
're as good as any hard
money ever coined. We
've come across the trea-
sure at last, and now let 's
count it."

It must have made a
strange picture, I often
_ think as I recall it-
two little maids and one
great boy sitting to-
gether on the floor of the
barn. Before them, a
patchwork quilt covered
with all sorts of pewter
utensils, and in their
careless fingers a for-
tune. Through the open
door a streak of sunshine
streamed, in which two
hens and a pigeon pecked,
hesitatingly turning their
heads from side to side
to eye the three chil-
dren.

Something, I know not
what, caused me to look
up, and at the same mo-
ment Peg cried out :

"Who was that look-
ing in at the d-d-door?"
All three of us turned.
A shadow seemed to
stir in the sunshine, and
a hand, that had been
slyly pushing the door wider, was suddenly with-
drawn. At least I thought I saw a hand with-
drawn, but after we had run out to see who spied
upon us and found no one, I could not be sure,
though Peg still vowed she had seen something
move.

5'^/^^-^P^

( To be continued )

THE BOY AND THE MAN"

JOHN
President

Note: — The following brief "Talks with Boys"
originally formed part of a series obtained by Ham-
ilton Fish Armstrong, a boy of seventeen, for " The
Blue and the Gray," a paper published by the boys of
the Oilman School at Baltimore. It was at once ap-
parent, however, that these gems of advice and sugges-
tion by eminent men deserved to be given to afar wider
audience than that of the school paper. Therefore St.
Nicholas has arranged to publish most of them.

Photograph by Brown Bros.

REV. DR. HUGH BIRCKHEAD,

Former Rector St. George's

Church, New York.

"THE BOY AND THE MAN"

BY PRESIDENT JOHN GRIER HIBBEN

Every boy wishes to be a man, but the measure
of a man is not that of age, nor strength, nor
stature, nor possessions, nor position. That
which makes a man is a quality of spirit; it is
courage, honor, integrity of character, and the
resolute purpose to know what is true, and to do
what is right. The central quality of manliness,
around which all others must be built up, is that
of a sense of honor. It is an incalculable advan-
tage to a school to have a spirit of honor pre-
vailing through all the activities of its life. A
practical illustration of it is the conduct of
examinations upon an honor basis. Such an
honor system, I am glad to say, we have had now
for twenty years at Princeton, and it has estab-
lished a standard of honor that is recognized in
all the customs and traditions of our campus life.
I do not see why a school should not have an
honor system of this kind. It is always a crit-
icism of a person's manliness if, on any occasion
whatsoever, he must be watched. It has an uncon-
scious influence upon him to feel that he is not
wholly trusted. To put a person upon his honor
is to appeal to the man in him.

the ninth inning, or until the whistle blows, is
the spirit that gives assurance of success. Again,
there is another feature of manliness that is
sometimes overlooked, or, at least, not duly em-
phasized, namely, that the true man never takes
himself too seriously. He, however, takes his
work seriously. And the more seriously he takes
his work the less conscious is he apt to be of
himself, and the less concerned as to what others
may think of him. He is thus able to see things
in life in their true proportions. The magnitude
of life's interests and the perplexing problems
which center about life's mysteries compel him to
recognize his true position within the larger
world about him, and lead him not to think of
himself more highly than he ought to think. The
true man, moreover, must have some fellow feel-
ing for his own kind, particularly some sympa-
thetic interest and concern for the men about him
who have not had the chances in life which have
come to him, and who have not enjoyed those
privileges which have made up a large part of his
daily life. That man lives in a small world if it
is bounded by his own selfish desires and influ-
ences. To live in a larger world, he must become
a part of its life and take a share of its burdens
and obligations. It is well to remember, how-
ever, that one does not have to wait until he is of
age in order to become a man. There may be a
manly boy as well as a manly man, and only a
manly boy is capable of becoming a true man.

THE FORCE OF SUNLIGHT

BY REV. DR. HUGH BIRCKHEAD

The other day, I was asked to go to see a new
invention which has just been discovered — a way

228

THE BOY AND THE MAN"

[Jan.,

Now all of you boys who have the privilege of
going to a good school are in the brightest kind
of sunshine that you will ever know. All the
stored-up goodness, and cleverness, and beauty
of the years that have been are being radiated
upon you. The ideals, and visions, and splendid
deeds of heroism of all time are being brought in
touch with you, and you are at the receptive time
of your lives, when you are most capable of mak-
ing all these splendid influences a part of your-
selves. As the sunlight is so quiet in its force,
we do not realize how great that force is ; and
just because it beats upon the world day after
day, all life is made possible— not only the trees,
and flowers, and the grass ; not only the butter-
flies and the birds ; not only everything that
creeps upon the surface of the earth or lifts itself
into the air, but the life of man, your life and
mine.

In this same way the influence of God, through
human life, and thought, and achievement, beats
down upon your minds and hearts. Later on, you
will go out into some of the dark places of the
world, among the men and women who have not
known the beauty and truth which have been so
freely shown to you, and the kindness and love
which you have accepted as a part of your right
from the start; and it will be your privilege and
your duty to lighten up those dark corners of the
world with the stored-up energy of school-boy
days.

there are men and women all over the' world
waiting for your brightness to illuminate their
lives, looking to you for the. way, for the truth,
for the life.

When you feel that studying is tiresome, and
that the restrictions of school life are irksome,
just think o-f the metal frame upon the roof,
quietly putting away for future use the bright-
ness in the sky, and turn again' to your task,
determined to absorb all the light you can ;
not for your own happiness or success merely,
but that you may be part of the light of the
world, and men may turn to you to see the
way and be glad.

"LIVE FOR WHAT YOU WOULD LIKE
TO BE AT SIXTY"

BY ADMIRAL F. E. C'HADWICK

If I were to start out to give advice to boys, my
first would be, to live for- what -you would like to
be at sixty.

Of course sixty looks to you a long w'ay off;
twenty-five, or even
twenty, is- "getting
on," from your point
of view, and forty is
extremely old. But
you will wonder, some
day, how quickly sixty
comes ; and what you
would be at that age
(whea some of you
will still have a con-
siderable time to live)
will mean much. For
if you aim to be a fine
man at sixty, you will
photograph t>y Pach Bros. have to be a fine man

1 91 3-]

THE BOY AND THE MAN"

229

TWO ESSENTIALS

BY GIFFORD PINCH0T

The essential things
which distinguish one
individual from an-
other, which give one
man a higher place
among his fellows
and another a lower,
are just two:

First of all, per-
severance—the ability
to keep everlastingly
at it ; and, secondly,
imagination or vision
— the ability to see
beyond the present

Photograph by Pach Bros. mOliieilt, and to Ull-

gifford pinchot, derstand that the work

Former Chief of Bureau of Forestry. , 1 1 ,1

at hand reaches be-
yond the present moment, and so is worth while.
There is nothing on earth, except actual dis-
honesty, which is so fatal to success in life as the
spirit of "What 's the use?"

WHAT IS SUCCESS?

BY COLONEL HENRY G. PROUT

The fathers- of the republic stated it as a self-
evident truth that men are endowed by the
Creator with the inalienable right of life, lib-

tO be SUCCeSSful. But Photograph by Brown Bros.

happiness,deliberately colonel HENRY G- ™OUT.

. r . Editor " Railroad Gazette"; former

SOUght tor ltS Own Governor of the Provinces of the

self, will never be at- Equator.
tained ; for, in the nature of things, happiness
cannot be the fruit of selfishness. If we are to
get happiness, it must be incidentally in the pur-
suit of some other aim. It must be by sacrifice —
"He that loseth his life for My sake shall find it."

In every generation there are a few men who
impress their fellow-men by beauty and nobility
of character, quite apart from those qualities
which we may think of as purely intellectual.
They have a distinction which wealth, or power,
or achievement cannot bestow. In the deepest
recesses of our minds, we recognize these men as
being the real nobility, the flower of humanity,
the really successful men — Colonel Nezvcomc,
for example, may stand as a type of this class.
Colonel Newcome died in poverty, a pensioner in
the Grey Friars, where he had been a boy at
school. But any right-minded man must feel that
Colonel Newcome achieved a higher success than
if he had merely commanded an army or ruled
an empire. Ignoble men, men whom we rightly
despise, have done both of these things with con-
siderable success.

BY MRS. JOHN T. VAN SANT

I put a letter in the mail, and told him what to bring ;
I told him not to worry 'bout a bracelet or a ring.

I thought I would n't bother

My mother or my father,
So wrote direct to Santa Claus, and asked for just one thing.

I said : "Dear Santa, all I need is one small pussy-cat,
A little furry puss that I can love and pet and pat."

I wanted just a kitty,

And I think it is a pity
[e brought me all these other things and did n't think of that.

And Father said it was a shame, and he would write the gent
A line or two or three or four, and ask him what he meant.

He said that Santa ought to

Have a lesson, and be taught to
Pay a little more attention to the orders that are sent.

And so, to-night I got a note from Mr. Santa Claus
Explaining how it happened; and he said it was because

He never got the letter,

And that little girls had better

Have all their mail at Christmas posted by their
Pa's and Ma's.

HIS LITTLE ROUND STOMACH WAS SWOLLEN WITH HONEY, SO HE DID N'T CARE A PENNY.'" (SEE PAGE 236.)

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE-TREE

FIRST PAPER OF THE SERIES ENTITLED "BABES OF THE WILD"

BY CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS

Uncle Andy and The Boy, familiarly known as
"The Babe," were exploring the high slopes of
the farther shore of Silverwater. It had been an
unusually long trip for the Babe's short legs, and
Uncle Andy had considerately called a halt, on
the pretext that it was time for a smoke. He
knew that the Babe would trudge on till he
dropped in his tracks before acknowledging that
he was tired. A mossy boulder under the ethereal
green shade of a silver birch offered the kind of
resting-place, comfortable yet unkempt, which
appealed to Uncle Andy's taste; and there below,
over a succession of three low, wooded ridges, lay
outspread the enchanting mirror of the lake.
The Babe, squatting cross-legged on the turf, had
detected a pair of brown rabbits peering out at
him from the fringes of a thicket of young firs.

"Perhaps," he thought to himself, "if we keep
very still indeed, they '11 come out and play."

The rabbits vanished. The Babe, startled,
shrank closer to his uncle's knees, and stared up
at him with round eyes of inquiry.

"He 's in a hurry, all right, and does n't care
who knows it !" chuckled Uncle Andy. But his
shaggy brows were knit in some perplexity.

"Who 's he?" demanded the Babe.

"Well, now," protested Uncle Andy, as much

231

HE REACHED AROUND, DUG HIS CLAWS INTO THE EDGE OF THE BEES' HOLE,
AND PULLED WITH ALL HIS MIGHT."' (see page 235.)

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE-TREE

233

"Why did he fall down out of the tree?" asked
the Babe, in a tone of great surprise.

"That 's just what / — " began Uncle Andy. But
he was interrupted.

"Oh! Oh! It 's stung me!" cried the Babe,
shrilly, jumping to his feet and slapping at his
ear. His eyes filled with injured tears.

Uncle Andy stared at him for a moment in
grave reproof. Then he, too, sprang up as if the
boulder had suddenly grown red-hot, and pawed
at his hair with both hands, dropping his pipe.

"Come !" yelled Uncle Andy, striking at his
cheek angrily and ducking his head as if he were
going to butt something. He grabbed the Babe
by one arm, and rushed him to the fir-thicket.

"Duck !" he ordered. "Down with you, flat !"
And together they crawled into the low-growing,
dense-foliaged thicket, where they lay side by
side, face downward.

"They won't follow us in here," murmured
Uncle Andy. "They don't like thick bushes."

The Babe looked up at him with a resolute
little laugh, and shook obstinately from the tip
of his nose the tears which he would not acknow-
ledge by the attentions of his handkerchief or his
fist.

Vol. XL— 30.

"Thank you awfully/' he began politely. "But
oh, Uncle Andy, your poor eye is just dreadful.
Oh-h-h !"

"I wish I 'd brought my pipe along," he mut-
tered. "It 's over there by the rock. But I
reckon it would n't be healthy for me to go and
get it just yet !"

"What 's made them so awful mad, do you sup-
pose ?" inquired the Babe, nursing his wounds,
and listening uneasily to the vicious hum which
filled the air outside the thicket.

"It 's that fool bear !" replied Uncle Andy.
"Fie 's struck a bee-tree too tough for him to
tear open, and he fooled at it just long enough to
get the bees good and savage. Then he quit in a
hurry. And we '11 just have to stay here till the
bees get cooled down."

"How long '11 that be ?" inquired the Babe, dis-
mally. It was hard to sit still in the hot fir-
thicket, with that burning, throbbing smart in his
ear, and two little points of fierce ache in his leg.
Uncle Andy was far from happy himself; but he
felt that the Babe, who had behaved very well,
must have his mind diverted. He fished out a
letter from his pocket, rolled himself a cigarette
as thick as his finger with his heavy pipe tobacco,
and fell to puffing such huge clouds as would
discourage other bees from prying into the thicket.
Then he remarked consolingly :

"It is n't always, by any means, that the bees
get the best of it this way. Mostly it 's the other
way about. This bear was a fool. But there was
Teddy Bear, now, a cub over in the foot-hills of
Sugar Loaf Mountain, and he was not a fool.
When he tackled his first bee-tree — and he was
nothing but a cub, mind you— he pulled off the
affair in good shape. I wish it had been these
bees that he cleaned out."

The Babe was so surprised that he let go of his
leg for a moment.

"Why," he exclaimed, "how could a cub do
what a big, strong, grown-up bear could n't man-
age?" He thought with a shudder how unequal
he would be to such an undertaking.

"You just wait and see !" admonished Uncle
Andy, blowing furious clouds from his monstrous

234

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE-TREE

[Jan.,

cigarette. "It was about the end of the blueberry
season when Teddy Bear lost his big, rusty-coated
mother and small, glossy black sister, and found
himself completely alone in the world. They had
all three come down together from the high blue-
berry patches to the dark swamps, to hunt for
roots and fungi as a variation to their fruit diet.
The mother and sister had got caught together in
a dreadful trap. Teddy Bear, some ten feet out
of danger, had stared for two seconds in frozen
horror, and then raced away like mad, with his
mother's warning screech hoarse in his ears. He
knew by instinct that he would never see the
victims any more; and he was very unhappy and
lonely. For a whole day he moped, roaming
restlessly about the high slopes and refusing to
eat; till, at last, he got so hungry that he just had
to eat. Then he began to forget his grief a little,
and devote himself to the business of finding a
living. But from being the most sunny-tempered
of cubs, he became, all at once, as peppery as
tabasco sauce."

The Babe wagged his head feelingly. He had
once tried tabasco sauce without having been
warned of its sprightliness.

in this, he lifted his black, alert little nose, and
stared longingly upward, as if contemplating an
effort to fly.

"He saw no help in that direction ; but his nos-
trils caught a savor which, for the moment, put
all thought of escape out of his head. It was the
warm, delectable smell of honey. Teddy Bear
had never tasted honey ; but he needed no one to
tell him it was good. Instantly he knew that he
was very hungry. And instead of wanting to find
a way out of the hole, all he wanted was to find
out where that wonderful, delicious scent came
from.

"Oh !" cried the Babe, in tones of shuddering
sympathy, as he felt at his leg and his ear ; "oh !
why did n't he stop and think?"

Uncle Andy did not seem to consider that this
remark called for any reply.

"That tree must have been hollow a long way
down, for almost as soon as Teddy Bear's claws
began to rattle on the bark, the bees suspected
trouble, and began to get excited. When he was
not yet much more than half-way up, and hanging
to the rough bark with all his claws,— biff ! some-
thing sharp and very hot struck him in the nose.
He grunted, and almost let go in his surprise.
Naturally, he wanted to paw his nose, — for you
know how it smarted I"

"I guess so!" murmured the Babe, in deepest
sympathy, stroking the patch of mud on his ear.

"But that cub had just naturally a level head.
He knew that if he let go with even one paw, he
would fall to the ground, because the trunk of

I9I3-]

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE-TREE

235

"They were onto him in a second. He grunted
furiously, screwed his eyes up tight, tucked his
muzzle down under his left arm— which was busy
holding on— and reached around blindly for an-
other pull. This time he got a good grip, and he
could feel something give. But the fiery torture
was too much for him. He drew in his paw,
crouched back into the crotch, and cuffed wildly
at his own ears and face, as well as at the air,
now thick with his assailants. The terrific hum
they made somewhat daunted him. For a few
seconds, he stood his ground, battling frantically.
Then, with an agility that you would never have
dreamed his chubby form to be capable of, he
went swinging down from branch to branch,
whining, and coughing, and spluttering, and
squealing all the way. From the lowest branch

he slid down the trunk, his claws tearing the
bark and just clinging enough to break his fall.

"Reaching the ground, he began to roll himself
over and over in the dry leaves and twigs, till he
had crushed out all the bees that clung in his
fur."

"But why did n't the rest of the bees follow
him? They followed this other bear, to-day!"
protested the Babe, feelingly.

"Well, they did n't!" returned Uncle Andy,
quite shortly, with his customary objection to
being interrupted. Then he thought better of it,
and added amiably: "That 's a sensible question,
a very natural question, and I '11 give you the
answer to it in half a minute. I 've got to tell
you my yarn in my own way, you know, — you
ought to know that by this time,— but you '11 see
presently just why the bees acted so differently
in the two cases.

"Well, as soon as Teddy Bear had got rid of
his assailants, he clawed down through the leaves
and twigs and moss— as / did just now, you re-
member—till he came to the damp, cool earth.
Ah, how he dug his smarting muzzle into it, and
rooted in it, and rubbed it into his ears and on his
eyelids; till, pretty soon, — for the bee-stings do
not poison a bear's blood as strongly as they
poison ours, — he began to feel much easier. As
for the rest of his body, — well, those stings
did n't amount to much, you know, because his
fur and his hide were both so thick.

"At last he sat up on his haunches and looked
around. You should have seen him !"

"I 'm glad I was n't there, Uncle Andy !" said
the Babe, earnestly shaking his head. But Uncle
Andy paid no attention to the remark.

"His muddy paws drooped over his breast, and
his face was all stuck over with leaves and moss
and mud—"

"We must look funny, too," suggested the
Babe, staring hard at the black mud-poultice un-
der his uncle's swollen eye. But his uncle refused
to be diverted.

The Babe's eyes grew so round with inquiry at
this point that Uncle Andy felt bound to explain.

"You see, as soon as the bees got it into their
cunning heads that their enemy was going to

236

TEDDY BEAR'S BEE-TREE

"We did n't want to steal their old honey !"
muttered the Babe, in an injured voice.

"Oh, I 'm not so sure !" said Uncle Andy. "I
should n't wonder if Bill and I 'd come over here
some night and smoke the rascals out. But we can
wait. That 's the difference between us and
Teddy- Bear. He would n't even wait to clean
the leaves off his face, he was so anxious for that
honey — and his revenge.

"A big strip of half-rotten wood came away so
suddenly, that Teddy Bear nearly fell off the tree.

"The bees, meanwhile,— except those which
had stung him and were now crawling, stingless

and soon to die, in his fur,— had suddenly left
him. The whole interior of their hive was ex-
posed to the glare of daylight, and their one
thought now was to save all they could. Teddy
Bear's one thought was to seize all he could. He
clawed himself around boldly to the front of the
tree, plunged one greedy paw straight into the
heart of the hive, snatched forth a big, dripping,
crawling comb, and fell to munching it up as fast
as he could, — honey, bees, brood-comb, bee-bread,
all together indiscriminately. The distracted
bees paid him no more attention. They were too
busy filling their honey-sacks."

The Babe smacked his lips. He was beginning
to get pretty hungry himself.

"Well," continued Uncle Andy, "Teddy Bear
chewed and chewed, finally plunging his whole
head into the sticky mess,— getting a few stings,
of course, but never thinking of them,— till he
was just so gorged that he could n't hold another
morsel. Then, very slowly and heavily, grunting
all the time, he climbed down the bee-tree. He
felt that he wanted to go to sleep. When he
reached the bottom, he sat up on his haunches to
look around for some sort of a snug corner. His
eyelids were swollen with stings, but his little
round stomach was swollen with honey, so he
did n't care a penny. His face was all daubed
with honey and dead bees. And his claws were
so stuck up with honey and rotten wood and bark
that he kept opening and shutting them like a
baby who has got a feather stuck to its fingers
and does n't know what to do with it. But he was
too sleepy to bother about his appearance. He
just waddled over to a nook between the roots of
the next tree, curled up with his sticky nose be-
tween his sticky paws, and was soon snoring."

"And did he ever get out of that deep hole?"
inquired the Babe, always impatient of the way in
which Uncle Andy was wont to end his stories.

He peered forth cautiously.

"It 's all right. Come along," he said. "And
there 's my pipe at the foot 'of the rock, just
where I dropped it," he added, in a tone of great
satisfaction. Then, with mud-patched, swollen
faces, and crooked, but cheerful, smiles, the two
refugees emerged into the golden light of the
afternoon, and stretched themselves. But as
Uncle Andy surveyed, first the Babe and then
himself, in the unobstructed light, his smile faded.

"I 'm afraid Bill 's going to have the laugh on
us when we get home !" said he;

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT

Author of "Careers of Danger and Daring," " Through the Wall," " The Battle," etc.

Chapter VII

THROUGH THE ROCK

"Father's call for Mother was M— two dashes,"
he explained; "I 'm calling M's."

He tapped steadily on the rock. M— M— M—
M-M-M-

The boy paused and listened. There was a
moment's silence, and then came the answering
letter, sharply sounding through the silence of
the desert. W-W-W-W-W-W-

"Hooray !" he cried. "There 's no mistake.
She 's here— somewhere ! My mother is here !
Wait !"

Eagerly he clicked off a message, while Jack
sat near, open-mouthed, like a boy at a melo-
drama.

"Sandy, what are you sending? What are you
asking? Tell me, Sandy."

"I 'm asking where she is. I 'm telling her it 's
I. Keep still."

Now an answering message came that made
young Evans frown.

"What is it? What are you getting?" queried
McGreggor.

"She says I must n't ask where she is. Hold
on !" He translated. "Do— not— try— to — res-
cue—me—did—you—get—word — from — your —
father?" •

With quick fingers Harold repeated his fa-
ther's message written on the wall.

"Thank— God," came the reply. "You— must
— go— to — Jerusalem— at— once— answer."

"That 's the talk," approved the other. "We '11
stay here until the Nile freezes over. Tell her so."

And Harold tapped out the words: "Dear-
brave— mother— I— cannot— leave— you."

He paused, waiting for a reply; but none came.

"Jack, she does n't answer," cried Evans, in
sudden alarm.

"Not so loud !" cautioned McGreggor. "They
may be nearer than you think."

"They? Who do you mean?"

"Why— er— I s'pose somebody is with your
mother. There must be."

Harold cast his eyes uneasily along the floor of
the desert toward a cluster of rock-hewn tombs
that lie at the base of Cheops.

At this moment, the tapping sounded again,
but less distinctly, as if from a greater distance.
"Will — send — word — be — at — Virgin's — tree —
Virgin's— fountain — "

The message stopped, abruptly.

"Got that, Jack? Virgin's tree, Virgin's foun-
tain?" Sandy whispered.

"Yes, but when ? She does n't say when to be
there."

"Wait !"

The clicking came so faintly now that Harold
had to lay his ear close against the rock to make
out the words: "To-morrow— afternoon— three-
o'clock — put— on — hat — chilly— evenings — love."

Then the tapping ceased.

They strode rapidly toward the trolley-car, hands
in their pockets, each absorbed in his thoughts.

"Say, here 's a point !" broke in McGreggor.
"How did she know your hat was off?"

The boys stopped short and faced each other.

"By George !" exclaimed Sandy. "I never
thought of that. How did she know it?"

"She must have seen us. Must have been some-
where where she could see us."

"That 's so, but— where?"

On the ride back to Cairo they discussed the
matter in low tones.

"I wonder where the Virgin's tree is," reflected
Jack. "Ever hear of it, Sandy ?".

Harold shook his head. . .

"She said Virgin's tree— Virgin's fountain.
There must be a tree near a fountain. We. '11
have to ask at the hotel, but—"

"What?"
• "My mother can't possibly be coming there
herself?"

237

238

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Jan.,

"No."

"Going to send somebody?"
"Probably."
"Or a letter?"
"Maybe."

"It strikes me as a queer situation, Jack."
"Me, too, Sandy."

And in this frame of mind they fell asleep that
night.

Chapter VIII

THE VIRGIN'S TREE

"Get onto their brass nose-pieces !" whispered
Sandy. "Careful ! They 're looking !"

"Got 'em !" triumphed the young photographer
as the scow grounded and the Egyptian ladies
hurried off toward the fragrant rose gardens that
stretched beyond.

A little later they had luncheon on the balcony
of a charming, shaded inn overlooking the river,
and here Harold discovered that he had lost his
valued pocket-knife.

"Berrees, Me Lord? Berrees, Preence?" called
the little fellows, and finally Jack bought two
baskets for eight cents.

"I '11 blow you off, Prince," he laughed. "Here !
Great country, eh, Sandy?"

"It 's a great setting," he declared. "Say,
Musty ! You climb up the sycamore-tree— there,
on the first big branch. I '11 take your picture."

"By George !" he started.

"What 's the matter ? What is it?"

Sandy consulted his Waterbury. "Ten minutes
past three ? What do you make it ?"

'9I3-J

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

239

"Twelve minutes past," said Jack. "Give your
mother time."

Sandy shook his head. "She 's had all the time
she wants. The message is here— there!" He
pointed to the tree.

"I see a wasp's nest."

"It is n't a wasp's nest. That 's my mother's
veil — gray, with black lines in it. She wore it the
last time I saw her."

He sprang into the tree, and quickly climbed
out along the branch.

"Well, what do you know about that?" mar-
veled Jack, as he watched his friend untie the
flimsy tissue and carefully descend to the ground.

"Now we '11 see what 's in it— if I can get these
knots untied. I feel the crinkle of a letter. Hello !
Here 's something hard! Great Scott!"

With a look of absolute amazement, Harold
drew forth the pocket-knife that he had lost that
very morning. Folded around the knife was a
small blue envelop.

"Jack, it 's my knife ! The one I lost ! Look !"

McGreggor gave a long, low whistle.

"Say, these people have been trailing us." He
glanced about him suspiciously, and added under
his breath, "They 're probably somewhere around
here right now."

With pounding heart Harold tore open the en-
velop and drew out several sheets covered with
his mother's handwriting.

My precious son :

I am writing in haste, and cannot say all that I would
like to. The important thing is that you must trust me.
I- am the only one who knows the circumstances, and can
decide what is best to do ; and I tell you, dear Harold, you
must not stay here, or try to find me. If I were in danger,
I would urge you to call at once upon the American consul
in Cairo for assistance. But I am in no danger, although,
of course, I am a prisoner ; and I beg you to make no
appeal in my behalf to any of the American or English
authorities. You must make no effort of any sort toward
rescuing me or communicating with me for the present.
It would mean more danger for your father.

Harold, I want you to go to your father at once. I am
so happy that you found his message. God is protecting
us, and will protect us, hut you must go to your father. He
needs you, and the only way to save me is to save him
first. Be brave, my son. Trust to your mother's love and
to her knowledge of conditions that you cannot understand,
and do this that she bids you. Do it at once.

And remember one thing : you will be watched from the
time you leave Cairo. You must not let any one know that
you are looking for your father. Call yourself a tourist.
Say you are likely to return shortly to America, as we
hope we all may. And do not keep this letter! Fix it in
your memory, and burn it.

sprained your ankle in the Great Gallery, and made me go
inside the pyramid, where they seized me. He is a dan-
gerous and unscrupulous man — be careful.

Mary Evans.

Harold read the letter slowly and carefully.
Then he turned to his friend :

"Oh, Jack !"

"Yes."

"I want you to see this letter— from my mother.
We have n't known each other so very long, old
boy, but— we 've come pretty close together, and
—there ! Read it !"

Jack read the letter in his turn— carefully and
slowly.

"Well ?" he said.

"It looks to me as if I 've got to do what
Mother says."

McGreggor nodded.

"I guess she knows what she 's talking about,
Sandy. Sounds like a pretty fine woman, your
mother."

"Yep. Train starts for Alexandria in the morn-
ing. Go on board in the afternoon and wake up
at Jaffa."

"Did you get the tickets?"

McGreggor nodded.

"Tickets and passports, too. And Deeny 's
got the trunks ready."

"I guess we 'd better go."

"Guess we had."

"And say, Jack ! I want you to bear witness that
I promise— under this tree — by this spring— it 's
a kind of sacred spot—" the boy bared his head
and lifted his fine, earnest face— "I promise never
to stop or give up until I have found my father
and my mother. You hear me, Jack?"

"I hear you, Sandy, and here 's my hand to
help you. I don't care whether I get around the
world or not. I '11 stick by you."

Once more the boys clasped hands. And, after
studying Mrs. Evans's letter so as to forget noth-
ing, they burned it solemnly at the fire where the

240

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Jan.,

Chapter IX

THE TWISTED EAR

Twenty-four hours later, the two friends were
aboard a Mediterranean steamer bound for the
Holy Land. They had received valuable help
from the American consul who saw that their
passports were properly drawn, and gave them
some letters to friends in Jerusalem. He also
took charge of Mrs. Evans's trunks until these
should be sent for, and allowed the boys to leave
with him, sealed in an official envelop, the one
hundred and sixty pounds that had caused so
much trouble.

"I don't see what we 're going to do with it,"
the consul declared, "unless some one turns up
who can prove title."

"I '11 never touch a penny of it," insisted Jack.

"Neither will I," said Harold.

The consul smiled.

"All right, boys. I '11 hold it here, awaiting
your order."

Presently Jack came up, eager to tell of his ex-
periences forward. He had discovered an inter-
esting Syrian who had been all over America-
New York City, and Lynchburg, Virginia, and
Yazoo, Mississippi. He spoke perfect English—
a clever fellow, and— he wanted to be a guide.

"The fact is, old boy, he wants to be our guide,"
added McGreggor.

"We don't need a guide," said Harold. "We 've
got Deeny."

"I know we have, but— he saw me fussing with
my camera and— it seems he knows a lot about
pictures. Says he ran an art gallery in Minne-
apolis, but he went broke."

"We can't afford an extra man."

"There is n't any harm in seeing him," said
Harold, quietly.

"I s'pose you 're feeling sort of — sort of broken
up, old boy?" ventured Jack, as he drew up a
steamer chair beside his friend.

"Oh, I — I 've been thinking about things, and —
er — "

"Yes, it is."

"It looks so, but— what gets me is how any
man can be fiend enough to treat a woman so who
—who 's never done anything but good to
people."

I9I3-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

241

"We '11 land on 'em hard !"
"But we must find Father first, I can see that.
Can't you ? And, Jack, we 've got to be foxy.
We must n't let any one
know what we 're after.
Mother says we '11 be
watched. Remember?
Remember that chap
she said to look out
for?"

"Do I ? Close-cut
dark beard. Scar across
his cheek."
"A fine scar, Jack."
"Yes, and a twisted
car. I '11 know him,
all right."

Sandy's face dark-
ened. "And now what
shall we say about our-
selves if any one asks
us?"

"We '11 say we 're in the moving-picture busi-
ness, and we are! We 've got our outfit to prove
it, the dandiest outfit in Jerusalem."

"That 's so !" agreed Harold. "We 're in the
moving-picture business. And— say, Jack, no-
body must know I 'm the son of Wicklow Evans.
You 'd better introduce me to people as— er — Mr.

EGYPTIAN WOMAN WEARING
BRASS NOSE-PIECE.

-tirtJhfanr

A NILE FERRY-BOAT.

Harold. That sounds all right. When you call
me Harold they '11 think it 's my last name. See?"

A little later, the boys retired to their state-
room.

Crowding around the vessel were little boats,
tossing uneasily on the swells, and manned by
Vol. XL.— 31.

THE OBELISK AT HELIOPOLIS — THE OLDEST
IN THE WORLD.

clamoring Arabs whose business, it appeared, was
to take the passengers ashore.

"Is n't there any harbor here?" asked McGreg-
gor.

"Does n't look like it !" said Sandy. "By
George, see that boat ! They '11 be smashed to bits !"

THE PORT OF JAFFA AT LOW TIDE.

242

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[Jan.,

the hungry jaw, and the boat was headed straight
for this opening, as they watched it intently.

ing the reef with an opera-glass. "It 's a nasty
sea. Ah ! there goes another boat ! Would you
like to look, sir?"

He offered his glass to
Harold, who now, through
the powerful lenses, saw the
passage of the rocks with
thrilling distinctness.

"Talk about shooting the
chutes ! Say, Jack, there 's
a moving picture worth tak-
ing!"

"It would be effective,"
agreed the stranger. "The
surf, and the rocks, and the
skill of these Arabs-
effective."

"Hello !" said McGreggor,
"you 're the man I saw last
night— yon know, Sandy, the
one I told you about from
Lynchburg, and Yazoo,
and — "

"And New York City, and
many other places," smiled
the new-comer. "Allow me to
give you young gentlemen
my card."

He drew out his pocket-
book and handed to each of
the boys a card on which was
printed :

-very

MR. ARSHAG H. TELECJIAN

COLLECTOR OF RARE
COINS AND STONES

HE SPRANG INTO THE TREE, AND QUICKLY CLIMBED
OUT ALONG THE BRANCH."

"They 're dandy boatmen if they get through
there. Great Scott ! They 've done it !" cried
Jack, his eyes bulging.

With the splash and lift of a great wave, the
sure-handed Arabs had steered the frail craft
through, and now they were floating safely in the
smooth waters beyond.

"I'll wager' those people got soaked," said Sandy.

"They are lucky not to be drowned," remarked
a passenger, standing near them, who was study-

"Thanks," said Jack. "My
name is John McGreggor,
and my friend is Mr. — er —
Harold."

The coin collector bowed
politely.

"You 've been here be-
fore?" asked Harold.

"Many times. This is my
was born in the Lebanon

country— Syria
Mountains."

"You speak mighty good English."

"I have spent years in America— some happy
years; but— I had money reverses, and— the fact
is I am looking for work."

"So my friend told me."

"We have n't had time to talk that over," ex-
plained McGreggor, "but if you 're going up to
Jerusalem, Mr. — " He frowned at the card.

I9I3-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

243

•'Say, this name is a bird. Ar-shag H. Tel-ec-
jjian. What 's the 'H' for?"

"The 'FT is a misprint. It should be 'M.' My
middle name is Mesrop."

"Mesrop? Sounds like an anagram— you know,
where you change the letters around and make a
new word. Give us the whole thing— I want to
learn that name. Go on," laughed the boy.

"It 's very simple — Arshag Mesrop Telecjian."

"Arshag Mesrop Telecjian," repeated Jack,
with a swagger. "Bet you
can't say it, Sandy."

"Say, you managed that
pretty well, Brother Ashrag,"
said McGreggor.

"Arshag," corrected Sandy.

"I am glad to serve you,
young gentlemen," answered
the Syrian. "It 's better to
avoid opening trunks. If they
had found revolvers, for in-
stance—" he looked at the
boys keenly.

"We have revolvers," ad-
mitted Jack.

"I know that," said Harold.

"Great Scott ! Our whole trip would have
been spoiled !" exclaimed Jack. "It looks to me
as if we need you in our business, Brother Res-
mop."

"Mesrop," corrected Sandy.

THE LANDING AT JAFFA.

"We have a man with us," said Harold.

"Ah, yes, a Turk. An excellent servant, no
doubt, but does he know the history, the Christian
traditions?"

244

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

"Are you a Christian?" asked Jack.

"Of course. I was educated at Robert College,
Constantinople. Suppose you young gentlemen
take me on trial for a few days. Let me show
you around Jaffa— we have two hours before
the train starts. And let me show you around
Jerusalem. Then you can judge."

The Syrian smiled. "I 'm afraid they have n't
all those dishes, but, if you young gentlemen will
come with me, I '11 take you to the cleanest inn in
Palestine, kept by a man named Hardegg."

"Good business !" approved Jack. "Lead us
to Hardegg, Arshag."

"If the land of Syria is all like this, I 'm cer-
tainly for it," declared Sandy, as they settled
themselves at a table among the blooms.

"Yes, yes; but how about Hardegg's eggs?"
interrupted McGreggor.

"I want my Hardeggs soft," chuckled Evans.

the sixth hour." Telecjian quoted the Scriptures
freely.

Harold stopped him with a sharp glance.

"You think yourself very smart, John McGreg-
gor, but if you 'd stop trying to be so funny and
keep your eyes open, you might see a few things
that are right under your nose."

"What things?"

"This man that you 've been chumming with,
where do you think he 's gone ?"

"To talk to that Russian pilgrim. Bet you
Ashcar knows six languages,— or even ten."

Harold shook his head. "You 're easy, Jack ;
you 're the easiest boy I ever saw."

"How d' ye mean?"

"He has n't gone to speak to any Russian pil-
grim ; he 's gone to send a telegram."

"What?"

"Yes, and he 's not a coin collector ; he 's not a
guide. He 's been sent here by — " the boy's face
contracted in sudden anger— "by the scoundrels
who stole away my mother. I 've been sitting at
this window with the light full on him, and— has
it occurred to you that Mr. Arshag Mesrop Tel-
ecjian wears a close-cut dark beard?"

"Great Scott !" cried Jack.

"Furthermore, there 's a fine, white scar run-
ning across his cheek, and he 's got a twisted ear!"

{To be continued.)

AN UNLUCKY LOOK

BY JAMES ROWE

Ma says that she will give to me

A very lovely present,
If through this year I try to be

Obedient, neat, and pleasant.
And so I wear a sunny smile

At breakfast, lunch, and dinner ;

I 'm like an angel all the while,

And hope to be a winner.
And— I '11 just read that "Self-Help" book

Each night before I slumber;
But nineteen thirteen has the look

Of an unlucky number !

~"~-Vrt

THE CHRISTMAS TRTE

"SriSi

s£

On Christmas night, there is great delight

In the land of the Be-Ba-Bo.
Each house has a window shining bright

With the Bayberry candle glow ;
And it 's really quite a remarkable sight

To see such a luminous show.

Of course the space by the chimney-place
On a Christmas eve is bare,

And of stockings there is never a trace-
But the Be-Ba-Boes don't care.

(Tho' that 's the case, it is no disgrace.
For they have no stockings there.)

Katharine
Maynadier

1012,.

1LJ

246

BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES

[Jan.,

I9I3-]

THE CHRISTMAS TREE

247

Tho' it 's plain to see that he has to be

Of a rather limited size,
Bold Captain Roundy claimed that he

Could manage the enterprise.
(I think with me you will all agree

It was certainly most unwise.)

But he soon withdrew from the public view

And assumed his masquerade,
For his was a heart that never knew

What it was to be afraid.
But alas ! 't is true that the chimney flue

For the Captain never was made.

S.Y*i

The accounts all say that he stuck half-way

And emitted a nautical shout :
'Avast ! Heave-ho ! Hard-a-port ! Belay !

Stand by for to haul me out !"
(For it does n't pay in a flue to stay

If you happen to be quite stout.)

And his resolute crew, who were all true-blue,

Advanced at his wild command.
They saw at a glance that the thing to do

Was to haul him right out by hand.
It was hard work, too, for he stuck like glue,

As you '11 readily understand.

So they persevered, and they engineered,
And pulled with might and main,

And as the chimney-top was neared,
They sang a chanty strain.

The people cheered when his head appeared,
And the band played "Home Again !"

'i>Av

248

BALLADS OF THE BE-BA-BOES

But don't suppose that the Be-Ba-Boes

Gave up their annual tree;
They have it still— but the Captain goes

Straight out to the open sea.
For he says he knows, tho' the wild wind blows,

It 's the safest place to be.

This is the end; and I '11 tell you why :
The year draws to its close ;

The time has come to say good-by
To all the Be-Ba-Boes.

But if you 're passing, by the way,

Shop-windows where they show them,

I hope you '11 stop a bit to say,
"I 'm rather glad I know them."

OLD FABLES BROUGHT UP TO DATE

(Just for fun, and with apologies to A£soft)

THE SHEPHERD BOY AND THE WOLF

s~J

- ^A\Mm^ *

THE MODERN SHEPHERD BOY AND THE WOLF.

THE OLD-TIME FABLE

Vol. XL.— 32. 249

THE FABLE BROUGHT UP TO DATE

A shepherd boy had a flock of sheep to watch
some distance from the nearest village. He cried
"Wolf ! Wolf !" but the villagers could not hear
him. His master, being informed of this fact, had
a "telephone service" installed, with a direct wire
to his house. The wolf came ! The boy tele-
phoned. The master answered the call, armed
himself with a repeating rifle, got into .his 40
H. P. motor-car, raced to the pasture, killed the
wolf, and thus saved his flock !

Moral : The " 'Phone" is mightier than the Yell.

C. J. Budd.

JUNIOR-MAN

BY RUT/\ /\c ENLRY STUART

<© <§>5 ,

-m

One thing sho, his mammy-nurse
She gwine teach 'im to converse
Jes' de way she hears his pa
Set down talkin' wid 'is ma !
Co'se, I has to do it slow,
Caze he 's alius runnin' so ! v?

< !

k m

250

JUNIOR-MAN

Alius ketchin' doodle-bugs,
'R pullin' out de bung-hole plugs—
Lettin' good molasses was'e,
Jes' to track it roun' de place.
Now he 's swallerin' o'ange-seeds,
D'rec'ly tastin' cuyus weeds,
Smokin' corn-silk, chewin' spruce,.
Laws-a-mussy ! what 's de use
Gittin' flustered up an' vexed,
Dreadin' what he gwine do next.
Wonder is, to me, I say,
Man ain't pizened every day !
Tripped, dis mornin', crost de rugs,
Tryin' to smother me wid hugs
Whilst he hid my tukky-fan —
Sly, mischievous Junior-man !

Man kin squeeze hisself, he say,
Any place a hen kin lay !
Bruised 'is little arms an' legs
Crawlin' 'neath de barn for eggs ;
Got wedged in, one day, so tight,
Nuver got 'im out tel night,
But he hugged 'is little hat,
Filled wid eggs, all whole, at dat !
Man ain't nuver yit give in
Over what he 'd once-t begin !
'Spare my life, Lord, tel he 's riz !"
All my prayer to heaven is.
Would n't want no other han'
Leadin' up our Junior-man !

Alius begs to set up late,
But at bedtime, 'long 'bout eight,
I don't sca'cely smoofe my lap
'Fo' he starts to blink an' gap ;
An' I totes him up de stairs,
Too far gone to say his prayers ;
So, I prays his soul to keep,
When I lays him down to sleep.

THE BROWNIES AND THE STALLED TRAIN

BY PALMER COX

The train was stalled a mile or more

From where it should have brought its store

Of goods, to meet the great demand

With holidays so close at hand.

The engine scarcely could be found

'Mid drifting snow that piled around;

The engineer had quit his lever

Until the men made some endeavor

To give the iron horse a show

Upon the track beneath the snow.

By chance the Brownies reached the scene

At evening, as the moon serene

Was struggling through the snowy cloud

That wrapped the mountain like a shroud.

Said one, "We '11 lay aside our play,

And turn to work without delay,

THE BROWNIES AND THE STALLED TRAIN

253

254

THE BROWNIES AND THE STALLED TRAIN

[Jan.,

A shovel little wonder brings
When in the human hand it swings,
But in a Brownie hand— ah me !
A different touch and go we see,
And snow-plows, rotary or straight,
Surpass it only in their weight.
But all were not with drifts content,
For some to freight and baggage bent,
Determined, if no wheel would start,
The goods at least to move in part;
They gathered from the cars with speed
What every town is apt to need,

Especially that time of year
When feasts and presents should appear,—
Supplies to fill the pantry shelf,
And toys to make one hug himself,
The pussy-cat, the horse and cart,
The jumping-jack, that makes one start,
The evergreens in bundles all
Tied up with care for home and hall,
Some towering tall, some small in size,
But all to give a glad surprise,
And bring the clap of childish hand
And wonder at the scene so grand ;
The pig, presented as a gift,
To give some farmer friend a lift,
And proving, by his plaintive squeals,
'T was rather long between his meals.
'T is strange," said one, "what things you find
In cars filled by the human kind;
Potatoes from Bermuda brought,
And fish around Newfoundland caught,

ISH3-]

THE BROWNIES AND THE STALLED TRAIN

255

The broken tackle showing plain
Their elders' lessons were in vain."

It looked as though whatever grew

In Africa, and India, too,

In way of reptile, beast, or fowl,

Was there to hiss, and scream, and howl,

Some things came loose when boxes tipped
That for menageries were shipped,
And, for a moment, it seemed plain
That panic would a foothold gain ;
And it took courage of the best
To shove things back into the nest.
For some have daring that will rise
Superior to the shock that tries,
And, as a tonic, give a brace
To others threatened with disgrace.
Said one, "We sometimes reach a scene
Where horrors stare, with naught between,
As if to test the spirit strong
That to a Brownie should belong;
And though some stagger, in the main
We 're equal to the greatest strain."

256

THE BROWNIES AND THE STALLED TRAIN

To nothing say of freaks at hand
That prosper in our native land.
Brought from a tropic clime, a few
Were to the zero weather new,
And, sluggish from the wintry air,
Made little stir or trouble there,
While others, roused and stuffed with ire,
Seemed full of action as of fire.
Fine fruit was there brought many miles
In vessels from far distant isles,
And it went hard, in all their haste,
To pass it on without a taste,
Though ere the task was done, in truth,
Or things beyond the reach of tooth,
Some had a better knowledge won
Of fruit that felt the tropic sun.
" 'T is well," said one, "the night is long
Till sounds the cheerful breakfast gong,
And Brownie hands have much to do
Before our heavy job is through.

The work, as old traditions tell,
We undertake, we finish well;
The time seems fitted to the task,
And nothing more could Brownies ask."
So box and bundle, crate and can,
Were moved according to their plan,
While in the drifts the engine stood
Without an action bad or good,
No bell in front, no "toot" behind,
Gave warning of a change of mind,
But at their task the Brownies kept,
And moved the goods while people slept,
Till in the station, safely piled,
With creatures of the wood and wild,
The merchandise of every name
Was ready for the owners' claim.

THE CLOCK OF THE CITY HALL IN OLMUTZ. (SEE PAGE 262.)

CURIOUS CLOCKS

BY CHARLES A. BRASSLER

The citizens of Nuremberg, who were re-
nowned all over the European world for their
skill, were particularly jealous of Strassburg's
precedence over them.

In 1356, when the Imperial Council, or Reichs-
Vol. XL.— 33-34. 2

tag, held in Nuremberg, issued the Golden Bull,
an edict or so-called "imperial constitution"
which promised to be of greatest importance to
the welfare of the kingdom, a locksmith, whose
name is unfortunately not recorded, took this as
his idea for the decoration of a clock which
was set up in the Frauenkirche in the year 1361.
The emperor, Charles IV, was represented, seated
upon a throne ; at the stroke of twelve, the seven
Electors, large moving figures, passed and bowed
before him to the sound of trumpets.

This work of art made a great sensation.

258

CURIOUS CLOCKS

Dan.

burg in 1425, in Padna in 1430, in Dantzic in
1470, in Prague in 1490, in Venice in 1495, and in
Lyons in 1598.

Not all, of course, were as artistic as that of
Nuremberg; but no town now contented itself
with a simple clockwork to tell the hours. Some
had a stroke for the hours, and some had chimes ;
the one showed single characteristic moving fig-
ures, while others were provided with great as-
tronomical works, showing the day of the week,
month, and year, the phases of the moon, the
course of the planets, and the signs of the zodiac.

fftijfc

AN ASTRONOMICAL CLOCK AT PADUA.

THE FAMOUS CLOCK IN THE FRAUENK1RCHE ,
NUREMBERG.

The clock on the Aschersleben Rathaus shows,
besides the phases of the moon, two pugnacious
goats, which butt each other at each stroke of
the hour; also the wretched Tantalus, who at
each stroke opens his mouth and tries to seize a
golden apple which floats down ; but in the same
moment it is carried away again. On the Rath-
aus clock in Jena is also a representation of
Tantalus, opening his mouth as in Aschersleben ;
but here the apple is not present, and the convul-
sive efforts of the figure to open the jaws wide
become ludicrous.

One of the first clocks with which important
astronomical works were connected is that of

I9I3-]

CURIOUS CLOCKS

259

THE CLOCK IN THE ST. MARK. S SQUARE, VENICE.

ble and admirable astronomical and calendar
works.

The Strassburg clock has, more than all others,
an actually world-wide fame ; and no traveler
who visits the beautiful old city fails to see the
curious and interesting spectacle which it offers
daily at noontime. To. quote from one such visi-
tor : "Long before the clock strikes twelve, a crowd
has assembled in the high-arched portico of the
stately cathedral, to be sure of not missing the
right moment. Men and women of both high
and low degree, strangers and townspeople alike,

260

CURIOUS CLOCKS

A CLOCK WITH AN OVAL DIAL, IN THE
CATHEDRAL AT LYONS.

await in suspense the arrival of the twelfth hour.
The moment approaches, and there is breathless
silence. An angel lifts a scepter and strikes four
times upon a bell ; another turns over an hour-
glass which he holds in the hand. A story
higher, an old man is seen to issue from a space
decorated in Gothic style ; he strikes four times
with his crutch upon a bell, and disappears at the
other side, while the figure of Death lets the bone

THE CLOCK IN ST. MARY S CHURCH, LUBECK.

THE GREAT CLOCK IN THE CATHEDRAL OF STRASSBURG.

261

262

CURIOUS CLOCKS

UAN.,

wonder and admiration at the spectacle it has
witnessed.'-

In 1574, the Strassburg astronomical clock re-
placed the older one. It was mainly the work
of Dasypodius, a famous mathematician, and it
ran until 1789. Later, the celebrated clock-maker,

NIGHT VIEW OF THE METROPOLITAN TOWER,
MADISON SQUARE, NEW YORK CITY,

SHOWING THE CLOCK-DIAL ILLUMINATED.

In very recent days, the clock of the City Hall
in Olmiitz, also renovated, has become a rival to
that of the Strassburg Cathedral. In the year
1560, it was described by a traveler as a true
marvel, together with the Strassburg clock and
that of the Marienkirche in Dantzic. But as the
years passed, it was most inconceivably neg-
lected, and everything movable and portable
about it was carried off. Now, after repairs
which have been almost the same as constructing
•it anew, it works almost faultlessly. In the lower
part of the clock is the calendar, with the day of
the year, month, and week, and the phases of the
moon, together with the astronomical plate ; a
story higher, a large number of figures move
around a group of angels, and here is also a good
portrait of the Empress Maria Theresa. Still
higher is an arrangement of symbolical figures
and decorations, which worthily crowns the
whole. A youth and a man, above at the left,
announce the hours and quarters by blows of a
hammer. The other figures go through their
motions at noonday. Scarcely have the blows of
the man's hammer ceased to sound, when a shep-
herd boy, in another wing of the clock, begins to
play a tune; he has six different pieces, which
can be alternated. As soon as he has finished,
the chimes, sixteen bells, begin, and the figures
of St. George, of Rudolph of Hapsburg, with a
priest, and of Adam and Eve, appear in the left
center. When they have disappeared, the chimes
ring their second melody, and the figures of the
right center appear, — the three Kings of the East,
before the enthroned Virgin, and the Holy Fam-
ily on the Flight into Egypt. When the bells
ring for the third time, all the figures show them-
selves once more.

Clocks operated by electricity are, of course,
the product of recent times.

Still larger are the dials of the great electric

I9I3-]

CURIOUS CLOCKS

263

This takes the place of the bells operated in the
daytime. They are in four tones, G (1500

THE IOVVN CLO

ASCHIiUSLEBEN. (SEE PAGE 258.)

HUGE CLOCK-niAT

" PARU GLANCED UP INTELLIGENT!, Y INTO THE FACE OF HIS COMPANION.

KANE AND PARD

(A tale of Christmas eve)

BY ADDISON HOWARD GIBSON

"Here we are, Pard," observed Kane Osborne,
looking regretfully after the receding train that
had just left him at the isolated mountain sta-
tion.

Pard, a bright-eyed, alert Scotch collie, glanced
up intelligently into the troubled face of his com-
panion, a slender lad of fifteen.

"No one to meet us, Pard," he said to the tail-
wagging collie. "Maybe he don't want us— he
did n't write that he did, but Uncle Hi was sure
he 'd take us in. It 's Christmas eve, and we 're
all alone, Pard" ; and Kane swallowed hard as his
hand stroked the dog's head. A sympathetic
whine was Pard's response.

"Looking for some one, son ?" asked the sta-
tion-agent, coming forward.

"Yes," answered Kane, rather bashfully; "we
're looking for Mr. Jim Moreley."

"Relation of his going up to the ranch to spend
Christmas?"

"No-o-o. Is his ranch near here?"

"About ten miles up Rainbow Canon," in-
formed the agent, eying the boy. "Moreley has n't
been down to-day. Going up for a vacation?"

"To live there, if he '11 keep us," replied Kane.

"Have n't you any other place to go but to
Moreley's ranch ?" inquired the agent.

"Oh, I '11 be all right when I get to knocking
about the mountains," Kane hastened to assure
the agent, resenting the suggestion of physical

264

KANE AND PARD

265

"Guess so, if he 's spry," the rancher called
back in a crisp tone. "I 'm in a hurry !" he ex-
plained, climbing into his wagon and gathering
up the lines. "There 's a storm brewin' in the
mountains, and my sheep are scattered in the
canon."

"All right ! Here 's the boy," said the agent.
"Good-by, kid, and a Merry Christmas to you !"

"Here, kid !" called the agent, running after
Kane with an old overcoat. "Put this on. You '11
need it riding up Rainbow. You need n't mind
returning it — it 's too small for me now."

"I 'm in a rush," he asserted, starting his ponies
off briskly up the mountain road.

"Got a dog, I see," he remarked presently, with
something like a sniff, as Pard trotted along by
the wagon. "That feller 's attached himself to
this outfit with a mighty important air. I ain't
no use for dogs ever since Bill Stevens's killed
some o' my lambs. They 're a right smart of a
nuisance — same as boys. Boys ask too many
questions, and stand around and watch the old
man do the work. I had one from Denver, but
he was no good, and I shipped him back. Gid ap,

"SLIDING BACK THE BIG DOOR, KANE REVEALED A WAKM, COMFORTABLE SHED." (SEE PAGE 267.)

"Thank you— the same to you !" returned Kane, Pop-corn!" to one of the ponies. "I had a boy
hurrying toward Thompson's wagon, Pard fol- o' my own once," his tone softening as he be-
lowing closely at his heels. came reminiscent. "But pneumony took him off—

266

KANE AND PARD

[Jan.

pneumony goes hard up here in the Colorado
Rockies. Sairy, my wife, is always at me to get
a boy to live with us, but after my experience
with 'Denver,' no boys for me. No, sir, never

agin

"Moreley some connection of yours?" he asked
Kane, after driving for some time in silence.

"No," answered Kane, snuggling his chin
down inside the turned-up collar of his newly
acquired overcoat ; "Uncle Hi thought Pard and
I might find a job there."

"Who 's Uncle Hi?"

"A kind old man I lived with after my father
and mother died."

"Why did n't you stay with him ?" Thompson
asked, darting a suspicious glance at Kane from
under a ledge of bushy "brows.

"He died, too, and it took everything to pay
the funeral expenses. Dr. Bently paid my way
up to Rainbow. When I earn money enough, I '11
pay him back and buy a tombstone for Uncle Hi."

"It 's about three miles up the trail yonder to
Moreley's," he explained. "You can eat a bite
with Sairy and me before goin' on."

As Kane helped unhitch the ponies, a motherly
looking woman called from the house that din-
ner was ready. She made friends with Pard at
once, and brought him a plate of scraps from the
kitchen.

"Some Christmas fixin's for you, Sairy," said

Thompson, as he and Kane deposited on the table
several packages brought from Rainbow.

The meal over, Pard had another feast in the
shed behind the kitchen. Then, thanking the
couple for their kindness, Kane slipped into the
overcoat and prepared for his climb up to More-
ley's ranch.

"He reminds me so much of Harry," Kane
overheard Mrs. Thompson say in an undertone
to her husband. "Why can't we keep him?
Moreley's will be such a rough place for him."

Thompson muttered something about boys and
dogs being a great deal of bother.

But Thompson shook his head decisively.

"Well, we can at least keep him overnight —
Christmas eve," she pleaded. "It 's three o'clock
now, and these short days it gets dark so early in
the mountains. It 's going to storm soon," look-
ing out of the window, "and the trail being
strange to him, he might miss his way."

"The trail 's all right if he follows it," de-
clared the old rancher, impatiently. "He 'd best
to go on, for Moreley 's a crank, and might think
we 're tryin' to coax the boy from goin' to him."

From the foot of the steep trail Kane waved
his hand to her, as she stood in the doorway
watching him start.

"So much like Harry," she murmured tremu-
lously. "God guard him !"

"Just stick to that trail, and it '11 lead you
straight to Moreley's," directed Thompson, call-
ing after Kane. "Don't waste any time though.
See that cloud rolling over Old Grayback ?" in-
dicating a peak, "that means a snow-storm, and
my sheep are scattered somewhere in the canon.
I 've got to hustle."

'Pard," gently squeezing the collie's ear, "if
Mr. Moreley don't want us, we '11 be in a fix."

'9'i-l

KANE AND PARD

267

A rapid movement of the tail and a low whine
attested Pard's loyal sympathy.

The cloud over Old Grayback soon obscured
the entire sky. Presently Kane felt fine particles
of snow strike his face, and the path soon be-
came slippery and difficult to keep.

"This is going back two steps to one forward,
Pard !" he laughed, recovering from measuring
his full length on an icy rock.

The wind, accompanied by a steadily falling

Realizing how fatal such a step might prove,
Kane fought his way across the snow-clad canon,
followed by Pard.

-..pnuci

"'I 'VE HAD A FALL AND HURT MY ANKLE, SAID THE MAN.

temperature, increased in power every minute,
driving the now rapidly descending snow before
it. Kane pulled his cap down to protect his eyes
and struggled on.

The snow soon came down in blinding sheets,
entirely blotting out the trail. Pard kept close to
his master, frequently whining his disapproval of
the storm.

Suddenly Kane realized that he had strayed
from the trail and was. stumbling along half-
blindly down a canon over rocks and tangled
bushes. Here the trees broke the fierce, biting
force of the wind. But he had no idea which
way to turn to find the path that he had lost. All
around and enwrapping him was a mass of roar-
ing, smothering whiteness.

All at once the collie gave a sharp bark and
darted away through the trees, reappearing al-
most immediately and barking up at Kane as if
insisting on his following.

"All right, Pard. Lead on !" directed Kane.

Thankful for anything that promised refuge
from the storm, he advanced hurriedly. At the
corner of the building, he halted quickly : a herd
of sheep huddled against the closed door.

Kane's appearance was greeted by a plaintive
chorus of bleats. In their dumb, beseeching way
they accepted him as their belated shepherd.

"All right, sheepsie-baas," he said soothingly
as they crowded about him. "Wait and I '11 see
how things are."

Sliding back the big door, Kane revealed a

268

KANE AND PARD

warm, comfortable shed for sheep and cattle. In
one of the stalls a cow stood munching hay.

"Some one does n't look after his sheep very
well, Pard," said Kane. "Bring 'em in."

"Some stubborn runaways," thought Kane.
"Bring 'em in, Pard," he commanded over the
din of the storm.

"Where are you, Pard?"

Kane bent his head to listen for the dog's bark
to guide him. It came, and was instantly fol-
lowed by the sound of a groan — a human groan !

"I 've had a fall and hurt my ankle so I can't
walk in the snow !" said the unfortunate man,
groaning with pain, as Kane bent solicitously
over him.

"Why, it 's Mr. Thompson !" cried Kane, in
surprise. "How did it happen?"

"It was mostly Pard," asserted Kane, stroking
the collie's head. "He drove the sheep in and
found you."

"It was the two of you," corrected Thompson,
looking gratefully at the boy and his dog. "I 'm
not harborin' any more prejudices ag'in' boys and
dogs — you two in particular. The storm 's
knocked them prejudices all out o' me. The
house is jest round the bend of the canon. The
wind 's fallin' now, and purty soon you can go
and tell Sairy what 's happened. I ain't goin' to
let Jim Moreley have you ! You and Pard are
Christmas presents for Sairy and me !"

In silent thankfulness, Kane, too happy for
words, pressed the rancher's hand. Pard only
wagged his tail.

for

oum

'Edited by Edward FBigelow. US J

ATURE and SCIENCE 'fiff

COOKING CUSTOMS PAST AND PRESENT

The earliest methods of cooking about which we
know anything definite, as far as this country is

■^satmm

concerned, were carried on by the ancient Pueblo
Indians of New Mexico and Arizona.

269

270

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Jan.,

brush to the fire beneath it, and as both ends were
open, the draft was all that could be desired.

These ancient Indians were expert potters, and
made vessels in which mush and meats were
boiled. The pots were often supported by large
stones which held the pot against the wall and
above the fire.

While many Indians were cooking" their food
out-of-doors, the Eskimos, who had little or ho

A drawing of General Washington's camp
gridiron is here shown. It was made from the
original in the National Museum, at Washington,

AN EARLY INDIAN METHOD OF COOKING FISH.

where many of the objects described in this arti-
cle may be seen.

In those old days in the colonies, many meth-
ods were used for cooking, over and before the
fire. There were horizontal, and vertically re-
versing- gridirons. The latter would bring; both

AN ESKIMO REINDEER STEW.

This is cooked indoors in a large, rectangular, soapstone
vessel over a soapstone oil-lamp.

sides to the fire. Fowls were hung on iron rods
suspended before the fire with dripping-pans be-

ISI3-]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

271

neath them. Muffin-tins were propped up before the iron cook-stove had been perfected, came the

the great fires so that their contents might get
well browned, and, in the south, the old planta-

\N INDIAN' S IRON POT FOR IIOILING MEAT.

tion negroes cooked their "hoe-cake" on the
blades of their field hoes.

The great fireplaces, with their hanging pots

steel range, and, later, the gas-range, and the
oil or gasolene stoves. One little novelty in gas-
stoves is worthy of mention. It is the camping-
or cooking-stove which pleased Dr. Nansen so
well that he took it with him on his polar expe-
dition. It makes its own gas by vaporizing
kerosene. A small pump forces the oil by air
pressure into the tubes of the stove, where it is
vaporized and burned.

Cooking by steam was used on steamships and
in large establishments for many years before a
practical steam cooker was made for the home.

ANOTHER METHOD OF USING A POT OR KETTLE.

and kettles, were used even after the first crude
cook-stoves appeared, about the year 1850. After

A PLANTATION NEGRO COOKING HOE-CAKE IN HEK CABIN.

About six years ago, the "fireless" cooker made

272

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Jan.,

forms. The cast-iron (black) plates seen, one
above and another below the cooking vessels, are
first heated. When very hot, one or both may be

-r?

A SETTLER S STONE FIREPLACE.
This shows the crane and, at the right, a "johnny-cake" being
cooked by the hot fire as it is spread in a thick dough on a rough board.

its appearance. It does not cook without fire,
but it does retain the cooking heat. Many mod-
els are now obtainable, some in box form with

A. THE EARLY DUTCH OVEN. />'. GENERAL WASHINGTON S

CAMP GRIDIRON, WITH SLIDING HANDLE FOR

CONVENIENT PACKING.

A MODERN STEAM COOKER ON AN OIL-STOVE.
Note the circular condenser on the top at right.

used and radiate their heat in the apparatus. In
this cooker, instead of several pads and a tight-

»■■■

F^^^^^\?

A SECTIONAL VIEW OF A FIRELESS COOKER
AND ITS CYLINDRICAL COVER.

Between the heated cast-iron plates, which show black
in the drawing, are two cooking pans.

several deep cooking compartments. The accom-
panying illustration shows one of the round

THE LATEST ELECTRIC COOKER.

Upon this two eggs have just been poached and the pan lifted to

show the heating wires. Another cooking pan is underneath.

I9I3-]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

273

Harry B. Bradford.

BLOOMS IN DECEMBER

The so-called Christmas rose (Hellcborous nigcr)
is not a rose, though somewhat rose-like in ap-
pearance. It is a little plant belonging to the

THE CHRISTMAS

Vol. XL.— 35.

SOMETIMES THE "ROSE BLOOMS AMID THE SNOW.

274

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[Jan.

=ES=J=

^"BECAUSE- WE
[WANT TO KNOW"

•WHY WE CAN SEE SMOKE

Ithaca, Mich.
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please tell me in "Na-
ture and Science" what smoke is? If it is a gas, how can
we see it?

Your devoted reader, A. B.

remarkable twining of honeysuckle vine

Santa Rosa, Cal.
Dear St. Nicholas: The accompanying photograph is of
a section of an oak-tree about which a wild honeysuckle has

CLOSE TWINING OF HONEYSUCKLE ABOUT
A TWISTED OAK BRANCH.

twined. The vine is about an inch in diameter. It some-
what resembles a mammoth corkscrew.

Peter Kirch.

discovered flowers on one-year
raspberry ".cane"

Canton, N. Y.
Dear St. Nicholas: We have a black raspberry, or
"blackcap," bush near our front porch. The other day
I was surprised to see flower buds on one of the canes that
had grown up this year. As the berries are usually borne
on the two-year-old canes, it seemed that there must have
been unusual vigor in the plant or some other reason for
this thing. Can you give me any light? I am much in-
terested in berries and berry-growing.

Your reader and friend,

S. Merrill Foster (age 16).

Most of the varieties of black raspberries — in
commerce known as "blackcaps" — produce strong
canes one season, on which, the following year,

There are a number of red raspberries, for in-
stance, which make a regular practice of fruit-
ing freely in the fall on the terminals of that
year's growth. It may. be, in the instance you
cite, that the stems producing these late flower
buds were in reality extra strong shoots borne
from near the base of the terminal stems of last
year. After all, if this blackcap is a seedling,
and shows a tendency to produce flower buds on
new canes, it might be worth your while to give
it ample opportunity to develop, as it may prove
to be a new variety which would have value for
garden purposes. Ernest F. Coe.

humming-birds

Your devoted and interested reader,

Katharine B. Scott.

cracks in hands and fingers

Topeka, Kans.
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please tell me why cracks
get in your hands and fingers when you get them very wet?
I would like to know very much.

Your loving reader,

Theodore McClintock.

iyi3-]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

275

A HORNET'S NEST IN THE PEAK OF A HOUSE

MONTEAGLE, TENN.

Dear St. Nicholas : I am sending a picture of a large
insect nest. The nest was in the srable of a roof of a house,

office, so, as -soon as I received your letter, I
went out and took a photograph of it. The nests
of hornets are built of the weather-beaten fibers
from old fences, boards, or other wood.

A HORNET S NEST IN THE PEAK OF A ROOF.

so I could not see whether there were hornets or wild bees
in it, so I drew the picture. It seemed to be covered with
gray folds. Will you please tell me what it is?
Respectfully,

Frank M. Hull.

Hornets are fond of building their nests in the
peaks of houses. There is one in the peak of my

A SNAKE HAS POOR SIGHT WHEN
SHEDDING ITS SKIN

Dear St. Nicholas : Is it true that rattlesnakes are
partly blind at this time of the year (August)? If so,
will you kindly explain why it is? Are other snakes that
way too? Sincerely yours,

M. Coster.

eleven thousand sea-urchins in one pile

Monterey, Cal.
Dear St. NICHOLAS : The accompanying photograph shows
eleven thousand sea-urchins. They were gathered along
the shores of Monterey Bay by Japanese fishermen, who
sold them to a local curio dealer to be made into jewel-boxes,
pincushions, and shell jewelry.

The California sea-urchin (Toxoneiislt's franciscomni) is
purplish in color instead of green, like some of the eastern
forms. They are found in greater quantities here than in
any other place along the coast.

Yours very truly,

Harry Ashland Greene, Jr.

From a photograph by Arthur Inkersley.
ELEVEN THOUSAND SEA-URCHINS DRYING.

LAST month, as you will remember, our young writers and
artists rounded out "a year of glorious life" with an ex-
hibit of contributions that for general excellence has per-
haps never been surpassed in all the history of the League.
And now this January number fittingly opens another
twelvemonth with a list every whit equal to that of Decem-
ber in merit and promise.

It is a pleasure indeed to think of the thousands of homes
throughout the land in which the arrival of St. Nicholas
means not merely the reading of stories and verses, but the
writing of them, as well, by the eager-minded girls and
boys of the household ; not merely the enjoyment of the
masterpieces of great artists or illustrators, but also the
earnest effort by ambitious young folk to produce pictures
for themselves — whether beautiful, or realistic, or "full
of fun." For blessed be humor! and St. Nicholas
readers have, happily, a plentiful supply of it.

It is indeed a rich argosy that comes back to the League
harbor twelve times a year — this treasure-trove of youth-
ful inspiration and endeavor.

All this, therefore, is merely the introduclion to the fol-
lowing

' SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 155

In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.

PROSE. Gold badge, Mary Kathryn Fagan (age 14), Savannah, Ga.

Silver badges, Lawrence Marcinkowski (age 16), Chicago, 111.; James E. Macklin, 2d (age 11), Kansas City, Mo.;
Archie Dawson (age 13), New York City.

VERSE. Gold badges, Elsa Anna Synnestvedt (age 15), Pittsburgh, Pa.; Lucile Benton Beauchamp (age 17),
Blossom, Tex. ; Lucile E. Fitch (age 16), New Orleans, La.

Silver badges, Grace Olcott Rathbone (age 17), New York City; Mary E. Wells (age 13), Newbury, Vt. ; Helen
Hunt Andrew (age 14), Sodus, N. Y.

DRAWINGS. Gold badges, E. L. Wathen (age 17), Mt. Vernon, N. Y. ; Dorothy Hughes (age 14), Rockville
Center, L. I.

Silver badges, Leslie M. Burns (age 15), Colorado Springs, Col. ; Junior Scruton (age 15), Sedalia, Mo. ; Mary S.
Esselstyn (age 13), New York City; Mildred Maurer (age 13), Alameda, Cal. ; Mary Celeste McVoy (age 11), St.
Charles, Mo. ; Robert C. Harrington (age 14), Orange, Mass.

PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badges, Beatrice Wineland (age 14), West Philadelphia, Pa. ; AnthoDy Fabbri (age 15),
New York City; Whitney Hastings (age 15), Mt. Hermon, Mass.
PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badge, Howard Kirby, Jr., Saranac Lake, N. Y.

'AROUND THE CURVE. BY LESLIE M. BURNS, AGE 15.

(SILVER BADGE.)

AROUND THE CURVE. BY 1'AULINE I'IFFARD, AGE 13.

276

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

277

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY ELSA ANNA SYNNESTVEDT (AGE I 5)

( Gold Badge)
The bells in yonder steeple chime
A welcome music, sweet and clear,
To usher in the new-born year,
Which, like a book unopened lies,
Bound with the iron clasps of Time,
And hidden from our eager eyes.

Its contents are unknown, as yet ;
But, with the year's advancing age,
'T will open to us, page by page,
And we shall see, as through a door,

What griefs and sorrows must be met,
What joys for us are held in store.

"AROUND THE CURVE. KY WILLARD VANDER VEER, AGE 17.

(GOLD BADGE.)

Grant that we may have strength to bear
With fortitude all tests, and learn
From every gloomy thought to turn ;
So let the bells bring hope and cheer.

And carry through the wintry air
Good tidings of the coming year.

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY LAWRENCE MARCINKOWSKI (AGE l6)

(Silver Badge)
The greatest invention of all time is printing. No other
one single invention is so essential to our well-being as
is this. Take away the telephone, and we still have the
telegraph ; take away the railway, and we can use the
automobile and the horse, and even the aeroplane, when
that is perfected. But to take away the art of printing
would be to do away with civilization, to make us bar-
barians, as we were before its coming. By printing,
the thoughts and deeds of men are brought down
through the ages. The printed newspaper molds our
opinions ; it discards the element of distance, bringing
the doings of the remote parts of the earth to our very
door. The printing-press is the dispenser of know-
ledge and education.

With the fifteenth century came the invention of
movable types ; this is usually called the invention of
printing. No improvements of note were made until
1800, when a man named Napier invented the cylinder-
press. Since then the art has been steadily progressing,
until to-day there is scarcely a town that does not boast
of a newspaper, and of a press which turns out a
minimum of six miles of paper in an hour. Printing-

presses used by the big city dailies turn out thirty thou-
sand sheets an hour.

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY CAROLINE MAC FADDEN (AGE 14)

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY LUCILE E. FITCH (AGE 1 6)

(Gold Badge)
Now flown forever in the gloom of night,

The year that was, the year that is no more ;
So each lost day, replete with old delight,

Shall take its place among the days of yore.
Another era lies beyond the morn,

Another twelvemonth brings its beauties near ;
And, roused by whisperings of things new-born,

All tremulously breathes the wakening year.

'AROUND THE CURVE." BY ELIZABETH FERGUSON, AGE 16.
(GOLD BADGE.)

There is a buoyancy upon the air.

Across the snowclad earth sly sunbeams play.
The winter violet, with petals fair,

Shakes from its jeweled cup the icy spray.
Off silvern branches frozen dewdrops fall

Into a winding streamlet, crystal clear,
And o'er the distance comes the wild bird's call,

Singing the matin of the wakening year.

278

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Jan.,

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY JAMES E. MACKLIN, 2(1 (AGE II)

(Silver Badge)
It seems to me that the aeroplane is the greatest in-
vention.

There are three types of heavier-than-air machines,
but only the aeroplane has been successful.

AROUND THE CURVE. BY ROBERT C. HARRINGTON, AGE 14.

(SILVER BADGE.)

The machine that Fowler crossed the continent in,
was at Overland Park, Kansas, and I saw him make a
successful flight with a woman passenger.

There are four types of aeroplane : the monoplane,
biplane, triplane, and multiplane. The triplane and
multiplane have flown, but are unsuccessful.

The Curtiss and the Wright machines, both biplanes,
are the most noted in America.

In 1906, the Wright brothers patented the first suc-
cessful aeroplane. Since that time, they have changed
it, having put both the vertical and horizontal rudders
in the rear.

The Wright, and Curtiss machines have the propellers

in the back, and
the Bleriot and
the Antoinette

monoplanes have
them in front.

By having the
propellers in front,
it makes the mono-
plane swifter and
steadier, and more
easily controlled.

The Curtiss ma-
chines are the
ones used by the
United States

Army. They are
small and swift,
and weigh but
little.

The air was the hardest thing to conquer. It is
being conquered now, and that is why I think the aero-
plane is the greatest invention.

AROUND THE CURVE. BY MILDRED

MAURER, AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.)

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY GRACE OLCOTT RATHBONE (AGE 1 7)

(Silver Badge)
The snows of March cling softly to the ground,

Shielding the naked soil of field and hill ;

Vainly I listen for a brawling rill —
Each brook lies captive, mute, and fetter-bound.
The trees stoop shiveringly, bleak, uncrowned

With summer verdure. Ice-enwrapped and still

The hushed earth slumbers breathlessly, until
My heart despairs of any stir or sound.

But stay ! from off the mountains blue and dim,
A gentle breeze its fitful passage wings,
Bearing a promise, warmth, and fragrance rife ;

Grandly the zephyr swells into a hymn,

And as it floods the world, like sunshine, sings:
"I am the Resurrection and the Life."

THE GREATEST INVENTION
(A true story)

BY ELEANOR NAUMBURG (AGE II)

Mr. Hanes was very much interested in wireless tele-
phony, and always said it was going to be the greatest
invention of the age.

One nice, bright day, Mr. Hanes walked down to the
dock of a New Jersey summer resort to watch some of
the sail-boats along the coast.

"THROUGH THE WINDOW. BY LUCY F. ROGERS, AGE 14.

While he stood there, he heard a strange voice, but
could not imagine where it came from.

After listening to several messages, he asked where
they were coming from. The voice answered and said :

"I am speaking from the tower of the World Build-
ing in New York, through a wireless telephone."

Mr. Hanes telephoned to the World Building to in-
quire all about the wireless telephony, and to ask who
had sent the messages. They then informed him that
they knew nothing about it.

I9I3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

279

BY CLYDE N. KEMERY, AGE 1$

'AROUND THE CURVE

THE AWAKENING YEAR— 1913

BY LUCILE BENTON BEAUCHAMP (AGE 1 7)

(Gold Badge)
O New-year, tell me what you bring?

Now, as we meet upon the verge
Of that unfathomable Vast

Whence you emerge —

0 New-year, tell me what you bring?

1 see a thousand argosies,

And ships upon the unknown seas.

I see the darkness of the past

Recede before the light at last,

When purer aims and nobler life

Have drowned the din of party strife.

And, 'midst the city's ceaseless toil,

I see, high o'er its vain turmoil,

The towering piles the toilers raise —

Objects of wonder and of praise.

I see the conquerors of the air

Coming and going everywhere ;

And steel rails circling all the world ;

And swords all sheathed, and war flags furled,

While mankind, in a common good,

Seeks universal brotherhood.

O New-year, is this what you bring?

AROUND THE CURVE. BY MARY S.

(SILVER badge.)

esselstyn, age 13.

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY ARCHIE DAWSON (AGE 13)

(Silver Badge)
Four hundred and eighty-four years ago, in a small
town in Germany, there was being unfolded one of the
greatest events in the world's history. For in that

That wonderful
machine has grown
into a giant greater
than the mightiest
army, and second
to nothing in the
world. And the
editor of a daily
paper exerts more
influence than

many kings. For
he holds the power
of changing peo-
ple's opinions, a
power that not
even royal em-
perors possess.

And we who are
using the benefits
of this invention
should remember
with gratitude

those wonderful
names that will
last as long as the
world exists — the names of Gutenberg and Coster.

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY HEDWIG ZORB (AGE 1 3)

s*tf

,v^

SJ*

»st —

'THROUGH THE WINDOW. BY J. HARRY

MCNEANEY, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)

280

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Jam.,

"around the curve." by mary c. mcvoy, age ii.
(silver badge.)

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY NELLIE ADAMS (AGE 14)

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY HELEN E. WALKER (AGE 15)

The telephone, which was invented by Alexander Bell,
seems to me, for many reasons, to be the greatest in-
vention.

First of all, that any one should be able to speak to
and hear another person, though the person may be
miles away, as well as though he were in the same room,
seems to me to be marvelous.

In case of sickness or sudden death, where the utmost
haste is necessary, the telephone is a great deal quicker
than the telegraph.

Last of all, so much time is saved in homes by the
use of the telephone, and it makes one's more distant
friends seem so near, that in every way I think that the
telephone is the greatest invention.

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY DORIS F. HALMAN (AGE l6)

(Honor Member)

All the air is just as frost-filled, and the sky is just as
gray,

And the snow-drifts coldly glitter, as they did o' yester-
day ;

But there 's something that is calling, something that I
can't quite hear,

Something saying, windward straying, "It 's a new —
another — year !"

Underneath the crystal glimmer and the white flame of
the snow,

Baby things are born and stirring, in the brown depths
far below ;

And the something, all assuring unseen life to us so
dear,

Sets us knowing, while it 's snowing, it 's a new — an-
other— year.

When the world moves slowly onward, and naught

happens day by day,
Somewhere, over land and water, there 's a blessing on

its way,
Just as when, in coldest weather, long before the spring

is here,
Voices, swelling, take to telling, "It 's a new — another- —

year !"

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY MARY KATHRYN FAGAN (AGE 14)

In the Russo-Japanese War, it was used to direct field
and naval operations. All United States war-ships are
equipped with

these outfits. The
Germans use them
in army manoeu-
vers.

In communica-
ting with ships at . -as**

sea, it often saves /%

many lives, as
was shown in the
great Titanic dis-
aster, a few months
ago.

Recently, a phy-
sician in charge
of a ship became
suddenly and vi-
olently ill on one
of his voyages.
The passengers
were inexperi-
enced, and could

'through the window. by harry r.
till, age 16. (honor member.)

I9I3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

281

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY MARGARET E. BEAKES (AGE 1 7)

(Honor Member)
The wonder of an invention is measured by its strange-
ness, but its greatness is measured by its usefulness.

There are few cities to-day in which dynamos are not
running. What better proof of their greatness can be

A HEADING FOR JANUARY. BY BEATRICE B. BROWN, AGE 13.

(SILVER BADGE.)

THE AWAKENING OF THE NEW- YEAR

BY MARY E. WELLS (AGE 13)

(Silver Badge)
The moon, high over the eastern hill,

Shone, an orb of golden light ;
The sad wind moaned in the tree-tops tall,

On this starlit New- Year's night.

The tall trees nodded their gaunt, gray heads,

On the hillside white and drear ;
High over the moonlit, dream-wrapped town,

And sang a song to the dying year.

"On this drear hillside, for many a year,
We 've kept our vigil aright ;
And for many a year we 've heard the chimes
Of the bells on New- Year's night."

The hillside shone in the starlight sheen,
The shadows swayed on the snow,

And, borne on the sighing, sobbing breeze,
Came a chime from far below.

"Now welcome, New-year," the trees sighed low ;

"Be kind to us, unknown year."
"The New-year is come," the chimes rang out,

And the old trees murmured, "Here."
Vol. XL. -36.

THE NEW-YEAR

BY ELEANOR E. CARROLL (AGE 1 5)

Church bells ring and people shout,

Waiting for him to appear.

What is all this noise about ? —

The New-year.

The New-year, a tiny lad,

Is about to come on earth.
Therefore every one is glad
At his birth.

Ne'er have kings of royal blood

Welcomed been as this wee thing
Coming in as bursts a bud
In the spring.

Former sins aside are laid ;

Good-will reigns o'er Christian men.
All the dear old world is made
New again !

THE GREATEST INVENTION

BY MURIEL W. AVERY (AGE 17)

"THROUGH THE WINDOW." BY DOROTHY HUGHES, AGE 14.
(GOLD BADGE.)

282

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[Jan.,

But the importance of the printing-press does not
depend more on the intricacy of the machinery than on

its effect upon the
world. It has been
a recognized pow-
er in the spreading
of Christianity.f or,
through its me-
dium, the gospel
of love and of
truth has been
brought into the
homes of every
land. It has raised
man from the
depths of super-
stition and ig-
norance to the
highest level of
education and re-
finement ; it has
strengthened his
intellectual abil-
ity ; it has taught
him to think
higher thoughts,
do nobler deeds,
and stands now ever at his command : his servant, his
teacher, his greatest invention.

THE AWAKENING YEAR

BY HELEN HUNT ANDREW (AGE 14)

{Silver Badge)
Swing bells! White snow,

Ring bells ! Light snow,

Greet the child New-year. Fall in softest flakes
Bells of time, Upon the ground

Sweetly chime ! Without a sound,

Midnight draweth near. When the little year awakes.

THE ROLL OF HONOR

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"THROUGH THE WINDOW. BY E. L.

WATHEN, AGE 17. (GOLD BADGE.)

Bright stars,
White stars,
Shed your radiant light !
Stars above,
Stars of love,

Swing bells !
Ring bells !
Chime out sweet and clear !
Silver bells,
In heavenly swells

Guard him all the night ! Greet the glad New-year !
THE AWAKENING OF THE YEAR

BY ELEANOR JOHNSON (AGE 14)

(Honor Member)
The snow lies on the ground,
The world is stilled.
Where summer roses budded, bloomed, and died,
Now winter fairies in the snowflakes hide.
Where robins trilled,
There echoes ne'er a sound.

The summer sky of blue
Is silver now ;
Where autumn turned the leaves to red and gold,
Now all the trees are lifeless, stark, and cold ;
But soon each bough,
In spring will bloom anew.

The year awakens, dear,
For in the air,
We breathe the sweetness of forgotten springs ;
We hear in memory songs the robin sings ;
Oh, life is fair, —
Awakening the year !

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

Ambrose Duggar
Ruth G. Merritt
Mary Daboll
Harold B. Slingerland
Edgar Gibbs
Marion E. Thorpe
Eleanor S. Cooper
Helen Walker
Ruth Stromme
Mary J. Le Clair
Watson Davis
Margaret Finck
Janet Koch
Theodora R. Eldredge
Henry Greenbaum
Charles Bayly, Jr.
Ruth E. Flinn
Jacques Souhami
Mary S. Rupert
Winifred Stoner, Jr.
Rebecca H. Wilder
Muriel Irving
Susan Lazarus
Gustav Diechmann
Elsie Terhune
Frances D. Etheridge
Elmer H. Van Fleet
Doris Rowell
Leonore Lemmler
Elizabeth Virginia

Kelly
Mildred Worth
Thyrza Weston
Katherine H. De

Wolf
Vida Cowin
Mary Nash
Lois W. Kellogg
Marian B. Caufield
Fredrika W. Hertel
Mary L. Lesser
Valeria M. Gregg
Marguerite Adams
Edward A.

Walarwitsky
Helen G. Rankin

VERSE, 1

Bruce T. Simonds
Eleanor M, Sickels
Marian Thanhouser
Elsie L. Richter
Grace N. Sherburne
Katherine E. Albert
Miriam Carpenter
Hazel K. Sawyer
Mabel Mason
Ren£e Geoffrion
Loretto Chappell
Mildred Willard
Betty Humphreys
Rachel L. Field
Elsie E. Glenn
Mary C. Williams
Alice Trimble
Janet Hepburn
Mary E. Hale
Josephine N. Felts
Margaret Duggar
Dorothy L. Morton
Frances C. Duggar
Helen Beeman
Helen M. Campion
Marian R. Priestley
Myrtle Doppmann

'^SL^e- $, *£~t~r-"

"THROUGH THE WINDOW." BY FREDERICK
W. AGNEW, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)

Elizabeth Finley
Betram Gumpert
Nell Upshaw
Ethel M. Feuerlicht
Catalina Ferrer
Edith M. Levy
Kathryn A. Trufant

PROSE, 2

Meyer Fineberg
Naomi Lauchheimer
Henry W. Hardy
Henry Williams

VERSE, 2

Hazel M. Chapman
Dorothy M. Cook
Elizabeth Hale
Buchanan Bernardin
Grace C. Freese
Nellie Gutzke
Louise Hammon
Harriet A. Fera
Virginia Read
Marion Jones
Annie H. Potter
John Watson
Katherine Daves
Hannah Ratisher
Josephine Smith
Alma A. Stevens
Louise Dittemore
Gwynne A. Abbott
Clarinda Buck
Margaret M. Caskey

DRAWINGS, 1

DRAWINGS, 2
Elsie Stybr
Susie Scheuer
Livingston McEwan
Robert Osborn
Mary H. Howes
Robert C. Mare
Edith M. Howes
Edilh Derry
Burnie Steward
James Sinclair
Lois C. Myers
Ellen Thomas
Dorothy L. Todd
Martha P. Lincoln
Marie L. Muriedas
Margaret Ager
Margaret Thomas
Vera M. Monteagle
Elizabeth E. Joy
Edward E. Verdier
Helena E. Perin
Logan Simpson
S. Dorothy Bell
Frederick A. Brooks
Harry G. Haufler
Harry R. McLenegan
Esther Hill
Jennie E. Everden
Dorothy Walter
Ruby Boardman
Copeland Hovey
Anne Hewlett
Jean Dorchester
Florence W. Billstein
Edna M. Guck
Jessie Wilson
Margaret E. Knight
Louis E. Tilden
Isabel Pearce
Rose Cushman

I9I3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

283

Genevieve K. Hamlin
Albin Y. Thorp
Howard H. Jamison
Amy G. Robinson
Cecile Baer
Dorothy Schwarz
Margaret V. Metcalfe
Margaret M. Horton
John Argens
Marie Schmadeke
Catharine H. Grant
Jeanne Dartiguenane
Maybelle Whiting

Marion L. Rhodes
Salvador Ros
Stephen R. Johnson
Phoebe S. Lambe
Alice Moore
Emilia C. Ros
Flora Ros
Catherine Hedrick

PUZZLES, i

Wyllys P. Ames
Katherine Browne
Duncan Scarborough
Edith P. Stickney
Marjorie K. Gibbons
Alfred Curjel

Esther R. Harrington Jessie I. Derickson
Raimund W. Adams Eleanor K. Newell

Clarice Lewis
Mary Fisher
George H. Lewis
Harriette Harrison

PHOTOGRAPHS, i Margaret Sherman
Kenneth D. Smith
Doris Grimble

Laurence C. Andrews Fanny Juda

Elsa S. Ebeling
Elizabeth M. Brand
Dorothy Wilcox
E. Clarence Miller Jr.
Jean F. Benswanger
Betty Rice
Laurencia Vradenburg Loyala B. Lee

SrNlC

LEAGVC

CJAN

Nancy Bartlett
Marjorie Robarts
Lucile C. Wolf
Rose B. Jacobs
Robin Hood
D. M. Beach
Violet Seligman
Charlotte McNarg
Susan B. Nevin
Dorothy Coate
Edwin P. Pond
Elizabeth M Duffield
Esther T. Derby
Charlotte M. Clark
Margaret M. Benney
Manley Davis
Marjorie Corbett
Addie E. Smith
Charles M. Smith, Jr.
Jane Wells Bliss
Martha Cutler
John A. Townley
Hartwell Wade
Margery Woods
Henry M. Justi, Jr.
Richard Bartlett
Horton Hansaker
Helen Simpson
Adelyn Johnston
Alexander Scott

PHOTOGRAPHS, 2

Helen C. Wouters
Roger Preston
Frances Whittlesey
Rachel Talbot

Elisabeth Turner
Ben Hulley
Caroline F. Ware
Edith Lucie Weart
Charlotte Otto
Ethel J. Earle
Margaret A.
Billingham
Hannah M. Ruley
Mary Flaherty
Beatrice Maule
Margaret Miles
Fanny Ruley
Catherine C. Lowe
Walter Weiskopf

PUZZLES, 2

HEADING FOR JANUARY. BY FRANCES

'. KOEWING, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.)

Richard L. Cooch
Irwin Eppstein
Frances Vandburg
Carlton F. Bogart
Dorothy Coykendall
Mary McNally
Elizabeth Grimss
Alice A. Hoge
Gymaina Hudson
Elsie Nichols
Elizabeth N. Hand
Mary D. Huson
Marion Phillips
Joseph J. Pugh

"THROUGH THE WINDOW." BY BEATRICE
B. SAWYER, AGE 16.

ROLL OF THE CARELESS

A list of those whose contributions were not properly prepared, and
could not be properly entered for the competition.

NO AGE. Katherine Palmer, Elizabeth Macdonald, Jean Patter-
son, Ethel Polhemus, Emil Thiemann, Helen F. Smith, Elverton
Morrison, Lillia Lyman.

INSUFFICIENT ADDRESS. Freida Silberman, Ruth White,
Agnes Smith, Olyve Graef, William Schustersohn.

WRITTEN ON BOTH SIDES OF PAPER. DoUie Criss, Paul
C. Rogers.

IN PENCIL. Alexander Laing.

TOO^LONG. Eleanor A. Porter.

PRIZE COMPETITION No. 159

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 to gold-badge winners who shall, from
time to time, again win first place.

Competition No. 159 will close January 10 (for foreign
members January 15). Prize announcements will be
made and the selected contributions published in St.
Nicholas for May.

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, " Maytime," or "A Song of Spring."

Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, "A Family Tradition."

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "Along the River."

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, " My Best Friend," or a Heading for May.

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 net 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

Union Square, New York.

WHAT

JfellCHT

BY IDA KENNISTON

WITH PICTURES BY FANNY Y. CORY

This is the Pack
That Santa Claus brought
at Christmas.

This is the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas

These are the Reindeer

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK

285

This is the House
Where the Reindeer

stopped
That drew the Sleigh
That carried the Pack
That Santa Claus

brought at

Christmas.

This is the Chimney big and wide

That Santa Claus climbed down inside

At the House where the Reindeer stopped

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

This is the Hearth, where, all in a row,

The stockings hung waiting for Santa, you know ;

They hung by the Chimney big and wide

That Santa Claus climbed down inside

At the House where the Reindeer stopped

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

This is the Stocking long and fine

That the little girl hung at the end of the line

There by the Hearth, where, all in a row,

The stockings hung waiting for Santa, you know ;

They hung by the Chimney big and wide

That Santa Claus climbed down inside

At the House where the Reindeer stopped

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

286

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK

This is the Doll with the pretty blue eyes

That Santa Claus brought for a sweet surprise

And put in the Stocking long and fine

That the little girl hung at the end of the line

There by the Hearth, where, all in a row,

The stockings hung waiting for Santa, you know ;

They hung by the Chimney big and wide

That Santa Claus climbed down inside

At the House where the Reindeer stopped

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

And this is the Girlie dimpled and gay

Who was made so happy on Christmas Day

When she found the Doll with the pretty blue eyes

That Santa Claus brought for a sweet surprise

And put in the Stocking long and fine

That the little girl hung at the end of the line

There by the Hearth, where, all in a row,

The stockings hung waiting for Santa, you know ;

They hung by the Chimney big and wide

That Santa Claus climbed down inside

At the House where the Reindeer stopped

That drew the Sleigh

That carried the Pack

That Santa Claus brought at Christmas.

Numerical Enigma. " To travel hopefully isa better thing than to*
arrive."

Geographical Zigzag. South Carolina. Cross-words: i. Seattle.

2. Mombasa. 3. Ecuador. 4. Whitney. 5. Lanchau. 6. Morocco.
7. Messina. 8. Algiers. 9. Formosa. 10. Iceland. 11. Arizona. 12.
Ontario. 13. Atlanta.

Dial Puzzle. One line is drawn from the edge of the dial between
ten and eleven to the opposite edge between two and three; the second
line from between eight and nine to between four and five.

Illustrated Novel Acrostic. Scrooge, Tiny Tim, in Dickens's
" Christmas Carol. " Cross-words: 1. Asters. 2. Icicle. 3. Arnica.
4. Coyote. 5. Bottle. 6. Ogives. 7. Temple.

Pyramid of Squares and Diamonds. I. 1. Assess. 2. Scenic.

3. Setter. 4. Entire. 5. Sierra. 6. Scream. II. 1. N. 2. Yes. 3.
Never. 4. See. 5. R. 1. R. 2. Mad. 3. Rapid. 4. Die. 5. D.
III. 1. Amen. 2. Mole. 3. Ella. 4. Near. 1. Rear. 2. Ezra. 3.

Army. 4.
Japan. 2.
Erode. 3.
3. Atone.
Unite. 5.

. Buzzard.
6. Pintail.

Cow-
Tan-

Rays. 1. Drop. 2. Rage. 3. Ogle. 4. Peer. IV. 1.
Alibi. 3. Pivot. 4. Above. 5. Niter. 1. Refer. 2.
Focus. 4. Educe. 5. Reset. 1. Swamp. 2. Water.

4. Mends. 5. Press. 1. Rebus. 2. Event. 3. Belie. 4.
Steep.

Hidden Birds. Bob-white. Cross-words:
bird. 3. Bullbat. 4. Swallow. 5. Hoatzin.
ager. 8. Redpoll.

Pinwheel Puzzle. I. 1. Spend. 2. Polar. 3. Elsie. 4. Nails. 5
Dress. II. 1. Sober. 2. Saved. 3. Uhlan. 4. Usual. 5. Spend. 1. S
Use. 4. Shun. 5. Salad. 6. Oval. 7. Ben. 8. Ed. 9. R
2. Ra. 3. Eve. 4. Sale. 5. Sibyl. 6. Lore. 7. Win

5. 1. Dress. 2. Avail. 3. Elbow. 4. Eyrie. 5. Lends.
C. 2. La. 3. Art. 4. Serf. 5. Sails. 6. Stop. 7. Ere.

D. 1. Class. 2. Areas. 3. Trite. 4. Flora. 5. Spend
Dress. 2. Cairn. 3. Savor. 4. Habit. 5. Tryst. 1. T.

Up.

III. 1.
8. Ed.

IV. 1.
An.

Hr. 3. Say. 4. Cabs. 5. Davit. 6. Riot. 7. Err. 8. Sn. 9. S.

Answers to all the Puzzles in the October Number were received before October 10 from Harold Kirby, Jr. — Claire Hepner — " Mid-
wood" — Theodore H. Ames.

Answers to Puzzles in the October Number were received before October 10 from Gavin Watson, 10 — A. W. Lienaw, 10 — Helen M.
O'Brien, to — Harmon B., James O., and Glen T. Vedder, 10 — Alfred Hand, 3d, 10 — Thankful Bickmore, 10 — " Queenscourt," 10 — Judith Ames
Marsland, 10 — " Dixie Slope." 10 — William Fickinger, 10 — Lothrop Bartlett, 9 — Catherine Gordon Ames, 9 — Maron E. Thompson, 9 — Julius F.
Muller, 9 — E. T., 9 — Katharine Keiser, 8 — Madeleine Marshall, 7 — Harry R. Swanson, 7 — Virginia Park, 6 — Margaret B. Silver, 6 — Guy R.
Turner, 6 — Dorris Davidson and Dorothy Dorsett, 5 — George James Smith, 5 — Beatrice Stahl, 4 — Katharine Herrick, 3 — Jack Fuller, 3 — Fran-
ces Eaton, 3 — Henry G. Cartwright, Jr., 3 — Helen La Fetra, 2 — Ethel Kent, 2 — Dorothy Hackney, 2.

Answers to one Puzzle were- received from J. T.— A. W.— R. P. E.— B. L. B.— R. M. R— M. K.— B. K.— A. S.— C. M. B.— V. M.T.— L. D.

OBLIQUE RECTANGLE

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)

In solving follow the above diagram, though the puzzle
has fifty cross-words.

Cross-words: i. In article. 2. Yellowish-brown. 3.
A song of joy. 4. A peer. 5. A South American mam-
mal. 6. An ant. 7. A lofty nest. 8. A diadem. 9. Up-
right. 10. An oak fruit. 11. A rude path. 12. Nothing.
13. Defamatory writing. 14. One affected by leprosy.
15. A line above or below the musical staff. 16. Kingly.
17. Mad. 18. The largest gland. 19. To hinder. 20.
Carousal. 21. A riddle. 22. Pertaining to the moon.
23. A glossy fabric. 24. A large stream. 25. At no
time. 26. Insurgent. 27. Exudes from trees. 28.
Black and blue. 29. Potassium nitrate. 30. To delay.
31. Memorial. 32. A gun. 33. To ascend. 34. A cinder.
35. To infatuate. 36. Pertaining to Rome. 37. A
hoofed tropical mammal. 38. An alcove. 39. A geo-
metrical figure. 40. To lay in surrounding matter. 41.
To hem in. 42. The evil spirit. 43. Cowardly. 44.
Boundary. 45. A finger. 46. A large beast of prey. 47.
Lukewarm. 48. Severity. 49. To put on. 50. In
article. anthony fabbri (age 15).

ANAGRAMTtlATIC ACROSTIC

Each one of the following anagrams spells the name of
a poet. The initial letters of these poets' surnames
spell the surname of another poet.

1. Sammy bought bail to Canaan.

2. Joe Galen, win !

3. Grew forty hewn hollow lands.

4. Nanny L. does fret.

5. N. Ford scans great goose.

6. Hen, whom Jenny ran.

eleanor hussey (age 16), League Member.

NOVEL ZIGZAG

Cross-words : 1. A small hawk. 2. To flow in a
small stream. 3. Very foolish. 4. An ancient country.
5. A relative. 6. Eccentric. 7. Base. 8. Burdensome.
9. Brave. 10. A defect. 11. Pride resulting from success.
The zigzag of stars spells a name, and 1 to 10 an
object, loved by German children.

dorothy e. mann, Honor Member.

287

288

THE RIDDLE-BOX

ILLUSTRATED NUMERICAL ENIGMA

In this puzzle the key-words are pictured. The answer,
containing twenty-four letters, is the name of a famous
decree, of special interest this month.

FRACTIONAL CITIES

Take Vz of one of the principal seaports of China, % of
the most important commercial city of Ireland, % of an
important city of China on the Pei-ho, % of the largest
city of the United States, Vz of the principal seaport of
England, and make a large city of Europe, founded by
an emperor who named it after himself.

Jessica b. noble (age 12), League Member.

DIAGONAL

All the words described contain the same number of
letters. When written one below another, the down-
ward diagonal, from left to right, will spell the name
of an American statesman.

Cross-words : i. Prudent.
3. Sincere. 4. To deform. 5.
perplex. 7. Necks of lands,
city of Texas.

mary e. lansdale (age 1 3), League Member.

2. A modern invention.
A Jewish festival. 6. To
8. A brilliant red. 9. A

WORD-SQUARE

1. A peer. 2. A body of water. 3. Sometimes worn by
men. 4. Extensive. 5. Finished.

Katharine K. spencer (age u), League Member.

CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
*****

I. * * * * *

* * * *

*****

II. * * * * *

*****

* * * *

*****
*****

*****

IV. * * * * *

*****

*****
V. * * * * *

*****

VI. * * * * *

*****

* * * *

*****

VII. ***** VIII. * * * *

*****
*****

*****

IX. *****
*****

I. I. A QUANTITY

The emblem of a
dians. 4. A town
blood.

II. 1. Rough. 2. Flavor. 3. Wanders. 4. A small
fish. 5. Quick.

of similar things. 2. To worship. 3.
clan, among the North American In-
in Cremona, Italy. 5. Relating to the

III. 1. Smallest. 2. A bird. 3. To assent. 4. Frozen
rain. 5. In the head.

IV. 1. A covered entrance- way. 2. A music drama.

3. Advert. 4. To crawl. 5. Stringed instruments.

V. 1. Used in making bread. 2. A planet. 3. Fervor.

4. A gem. 5. Cast.

VI. 1. An organ of the body. 2. A mistake. 3. To
get up. 4. The gift of June. 5. A curl of hair.

VII. 1. Spruce. 2. A covetous person. 3. Apart. 4.
An angle in a fortification. 5. Direction.

VIII. 1. A kind of grain. 2. To raise. 3. Part of a
roof. 4. To turn away. 5. Irritable.

IX. 1. Projecting arms on a ship, used for hoisting.

2. Past. 3. A Russian drink. 4. One who inks. 5
Rends. whitney Hastings (age 15).

"FAMOUS ROMAN" ZIGZAG

Cross-words : 1. A Roman soldier. 2. A Roman
orator. 3. The birthplace of a Latin poet. 4. The first
name of a Roman portrayed by Shakspere. 5. A Roman
matron. 6. The first Roman emperor born out of Italy.
7. A Roman triumvir. 8. A Roman poet. 9. A Roman
naval battle. 10. The middle name of an early Roman
hero. 11. A Roman commander in the Punic Wars.
Isidore helfand (age 14), Honor Member.

DOUBLE DIAGONAL

Cross-words : i. A kind of sauce. 2. A great gun.

3. Proper. 4. Become void. 5. An underground room.
6. One who screams.

CONSTANCE W. MCLAUGHLIN (age 15),

League Member.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)
I am composed of sixty-seven letters, and form a quota-
tion from Emerson.

My 60-18-13-7-10-20-53-49 is a sticky fluid. My
23-1-21-67-59-46-52 is laboring. My 4-2-28-27-36-56
is a musical instrument. My 1 7-1 4-8-5 8-26-40 is a
soft, downy substance. My 1 2-66-48-1 1-44-63-47 is
to sparkle. My 22-25-65-34-38-39-29-41 is growling.
My 42-15-45-6-3-57 is thorny. My 64-43-30-19-16 is
comical. My 5-9-32-50-54-61 is to return to life. My
35-37-55-62 is moved rapidly. My 24-31-33-51 is
perceived. Beatrice wineland (age 14).

THE DE V1NNE PRESS, NEW YORK.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

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OF ALL SCEWTED SOAPS PEARS' OTTO OF ROSE IS THE BEST

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

If there be any Value
in Quality

If there be any Value
in Prestige

If there be any Value
in Good Company

Consider

The unusual excellence
in literature and art, in
engraving, typography,
printing, and paper
continually exhibited in

THE
CENTURY
MAGAZINE

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

THE BEST ICE AND ROLLER SKATES

THE SAMUEL WINSLOW SKATE MFG. CO.

Factory and Main Offices: Worcester, Mass., U. S. A.

Sales Rooms: New York, 84 Chambers St. Pacific Coast

Sales Agency: Phil. B. Bekeart Co., San Francisco.

Stocks to be found at LONDON, 8 Long Lane, E. C; PARIS,
64 Avenue de la Grande Armee; BERLIN; SYDNEY and
BRISBANE, Australia; DUNEDIN, AUCKLAND and
WELLINGTON, New Zealand.

Makers of the famous
Winslow's Roller Skates

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ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE

PANAMA-PACIFIC EXPOSITION

IN San Francisco, California, work is being rap-
idly pushed for the exposition to take place there
in commemoration of the opening of the great
Panama Canal ; while in Washington, D. C, work is
being done on the new two-cent stamp to be issued
for the same purpose. Rumor has it that the new
stamp will be oblong, similar in size to those issued
in 1904. in commemoration of the "Louisiana Pur-
chase." The central design is an engraving repre-
senting the Locks at Gatun. In the background are
palm-trees and the hills of the isthmus ; in the fore-
ground a steamship is emerging from one lock, while
a second ship is being raised in the other. The
words "U. S. Postage" appear at the top of the
stamp, while beneath are the words, "San Francisco,
1915." In the corners are branches of olive and
palm, typifying peace and the tropics.

A NEW ENGLISH STAMP

as Russia, Bulgaria, or Montenegro, have not done
this. We are not sure. But of all the nations using
the English alphabet, Great Britain alone has no
national name upon her stamps. Because of this
fact, a new issue of English stamps always brings to
St. Nicholas a number of queries. The stamps
bear no name, and, naturally, many young collectors
do not know where to place them in their albums.

«tfift»<m»«>m f

English philatelic societies backed its protest by

TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS

THE readers of St. Nicholas send in to this de-
partment many queries, and this is as it should
be. We wish to help our readers all we can, and
our knowledge of stamps is at their disposal. The
requirements of publishing so large a magazine as
St. Nicholas are such that the subject-matter for
all pages must be in hand some time before it is
issued. Therefore, if a prompt reply is desired, or if
the query is not one of general interest to our read-
ers, a stamped self-addressed envelop should be in-
closed. Always be sure to give addresses in full ; do
not use initials only. We have before us a query
without address, to which only a general reply can
here be given. "M. L. G, Bradford," asks the value
of a stamp bearing the head of Andrew Jackson, and
issued in the year 1862. It is always difficult to give
the value of any stamp unless the particular speci-
men is before us. So much depends on its condi-
tion. Is it used or unused? Nicely perforated or
badly centered? If unused, has it gum? If used,
is it lightly or heavily canceled? Only a stamp-
collector can appreciate how important all these
points are to the value of a stamp. St. Nicholas
has a large number of advertisers who are constantly
buying as well as selling stamps. A full and com-
plete description of any stamp for sale would, if
submitted to them, doubtless bring a prompt and
courteous reply. But when writing to them or to us,
always be careful to give your full address.

ANSWERS TO QUERIES

tfjf TMPERFORATE and part-perforate stamps
j1 1 usually have a value, and are well worth
saving. It is especially desirable to have such in
pairs and blocks. This applies to current stamps as
well as old issues. The rare stamp of to-day was
once the current issue. (J By thin and thick
paper is meant the difference in thickness or weight.
It would take more sheets of thin paper than of thick
to weigh a pound. For instance, tissue-paper is very
thin and ordinary blotting-paper very thick. Porous
paper is one which is soft and coarse-grained, not
highly glazed or finished, and which readily absorbs
moisture.

22ES22ESgSZ222S2^2^^2222222S22S22^222ZS222SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS^S

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY

TWENTIETH CENTURY ALBUM

(NEW) contains spaces for all stamps issued since
January 1,1901. Prices from $2.25 up — post free.

NEW DIME SETS - Price 10c. per set :
12 Argentine 5 Cyprus 20 India 5 Reunion

15 Canada 10 Greece 20 Japan 15 Russia

139 different dime sets, also Packets, Sets, Albums, and Supplies

in our 84-page Illustrated Price-list. Send for it to-day — free —

and get sample copy of Monthly Stamp Paper.
Finest approval selections at 50% commission. Agents wanted.

Scott Stamp & Coin Co., 127 Madison Avenue, New York

The New England Stamp Monthly

serial now running

Commemorative Stamps of the World

Illustrated, 12c. per year. Vol. II begins Nov. 20th.
Subscribe now.
JVew Series approval sheets 50%. Apply now and get first pick.
Stamp Tongs, 35c. a pair.

NEW ENGLAND STAMP CO.

43 Washington Building Boston, Mass.

STAMP ALBUM with 538 genuine stamps, incl. Rhodesia,

O Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania (landscape),
Jamaica (waterfalls), etc., only 10c. 100 dif. Japan,
India, N. Zld., etc., 5c. Agents wanted 50%. Big Bar-
gain list, coupons, etc., all Free] We Buy Stamps.
C. E. Hussman StampCo., Dept. I, St. Louis, Mo.

50 VARIETIES STAMPS
FROM 50 DIFFERENT COUNTRIES

sent with our 60% approval sheets for 5c.
Palm Stamp Co., 249 No. CarondeletSt., Los Angeles, Cal.

RARflAINS EACH SET s cents.

D-MrvVJ^nmo 10 Luxembourg ; 8 Finland ; 2ft 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.

C PRrMpH COLONIAL STAMPS, 2c. 100ft Differ-
«J ri\.EU-<IV^ini ent Foreigr, Stamps, $1.75. 10 Different
Foreign Coins, 25c. 25 Beautiful Embossed Post-cards, 10c.
Buying list coins, 10c. Sample " Stamp & Coin Collector " free.
A. H. Kraus, 409a Chestnut Street, Milwaukee, Wis.

RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
xSjSgjJv with Catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents. If possible send
IjSp&M names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special
(Ml JM] offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
WSLWMi Dc.;40 Japan. 5c; 100 U. S.,20c.; 10 Paraguay, 7c; 17
NSSSHv .Mexico, 10c: 20 Turkey, 7c; 1" Persia,7c;3 Sudan, 5c;
X-«BS}' lOChile, 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; 7 Malay, 10c; lft 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.

STAMPS' CHEAP! 333 GENUINE FOR=

1"'i"1T1* '"'• 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. / buy
stamps. L. B. Dover, D-6, St. Louis, Mo.

1000 Different gJ^S£SS!K $30 for $1.80

Haiti, 1904

500 different

300 "

200 "
20 " Colombia
10 " Bosnia
9 " Prussia

$ .45
.20
.09
.07
.05
.10

Abyssinia, 1895
Mozambique, '92
N. F'ndl'd, 1890 & '98
Nyassa Giraffes, '01
Rumania Jubilee, '06

Complete 6 Var. $ .15

' 7

.45

' 9

.50

' 15

.30

' 13

.25

' 11

,55

25 diff.

Foreign

1 Gold

$2.25

Gold California $\, each 35c ; j>i," each 65c
Coins, 25c; Roman (Cssar) silver, 45c U. S. ,_

J. F. Negreen, 8 East 23d Street, New York City.

7Q 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
tellsall about "How to Make a Collection of Stamps Properly."
Queen CityStamp&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 100 VARIETIES FOREIGN, FREE. Postage 2c.
Mention St. Nicholas. Quaker Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio.

STAMPS 108 ALL DIFFERENT.

Transvaal, Servia, Brazil, Peru, Cape G. H., Mex-
ico, Natal, Java, etc., and Album, 10c lftftft 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 Ay., St. Louis, Mo.

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 ija
bargains 2c Agts., 5o%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. Sal

! ! FREE TO BEGINNERS ! !

An old stamp of Peru, worth 3ftc to any one sending for our
splendid approval selections at 50% discount.

New Chile la, 2c. 5c, 10c, 15c 5c.

New Mexico la, 2c, 5c, 10c, 2ftc 6c.

1911 Honduras Large picture stamps la, 2c, 5c, 6c, 10c... 10c.
International Stamp Co., 1 Ann Street, New York

C VARIETIES PERU FREE.

** With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N.Y.

CT A lV/IPC Packet of 200, Album, Hinges, and List, all
•3 1 /\IVlr>J. for 8c 1000 mixed stamps, 15c 50% to agents.
Payn StampCo., 138 No. Wellington St.. Los Angeles, Cal.

Austria Jubilee Set, Catalog, 38c A fine set, I7DFp

1 heller to 2 kr., 15 values rlxCE.

Packet of all different foreign stamps. These stamps- rpt'I'

from all parts of world r rvCIL,

Packet of 50 all different U. S. stamps, including pDCC

revenues, but no post-cards r t\LE

A leaflet describing and illustrating those United FD17C

States envelops, 1853-1900 T I\CIL,

Yonr Choice of the above premiums if you
send 10c for 10 weeks' trial subscription to
Mykeel's Stamp Weekly, Kast Building, Boston, Mass.
You cannot afford to collect stamps without a stamp paper and
Mykeel's is the oldest, largest, and best in the world. Full of
news, pictures, and bargains. Special department for beginners.

CLASS PINS

PATRONIZE the advertisers who
use ST. NICHOLAS— their pro-
ducts are worthy of your attention.

WuRLlIZErf

FREE
CATALOG

Musical Instruments

282 Pages. 2561 Articles described. 788 Illustra-
tions. 67 Color Plates. Every Musical Instru-
ment. Superb Quality. Lowest Prices. Easy
Payments. Mention instrument you are inter-
ested in. We supply the U. S. Government.
THE RUDOLPH WURLITZER CO.

160 E. 4th Av., Cluelnuatl 383 S. Wabash Av., Chicago

St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. fJJ,.

Time to hand in answers is up January to.

There are twenty-two things advertised
in the December St. NICHOLAS which,
when they are rightly chosen and written
in the squares above, will just fill them,
each filling a line across, and the letters,
now so placed in the squares as to spell
out the two sentences which you can read
from top to bottom of the diagram, will
come in correctly in the advertisement.

In six of them you will see that the first

(See also

Prize-winners announced in March number.

letter is given ; and in each you can tell
the number of letters by counting the
squares straight across the diagram.

To guess the puzzle, you have to find
the list of things and write them in the
same order that they are in the diagram,
numbering them from I to 22 inclusive.
Write each as it appears in the advertise-
ment.

As usual the prizes will be :

One First Prize, $5.00 to the sender of the cor-
rect list and the most convincing letter.

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 :

2. In the upper left-hand corner of your list give
name, age, address, and the number of this compe-
tition (133).

3. Submit answers by January 10, 1913. Do not
use a pencil. 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.
133, St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York.

page 32.)

57'. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Another talk to mothers whose girls and boys have to be made to practice

' 'If I thought I could learn to play
like Aunt Ruth I'd practice."

"No, you're not through practicing yet.
Five minutes more and then you may go out
and play. ' '

Yes, they're the same children — in love
with music, as they've always been.
"If I thought I could ever play like that
Vd practice hours a day !" they exclaim.
"You could, if you'd practice hard," you
say, and they resolve to practice hard.
Perhaps they do for a day or two.
But the effect wears off — the visits of the
wonderful player are infrequent. So many
other things happen in between. Practice be-
comes labor again. The children lose sight
of the end to be obtained.

But, suppose this gifted visitor lived right
in your home and played for your boys and
girls every day.
"She doesn't," you say.

No, but her counterpart, as far as music
is concerned, may — and should.

And you'll have this world of beautiful
music every day — there will be no op-
portunity for your boys and girls to lose
interest.

Practice ? They will practice as they never
would have practiced without the Pianola
to keep the end to be attained constantly be-
fore them. You need the Pianola-Piano.

Take your children with you to hear the Pianola-
Piano. But, be sure it is the genuine PIANOLA
Player-piano that you hear — not just any player-
piano. You will recognize the difference when you
have been shown such important features as the
Metrostyle and Themodist— which even the highest
priced among other instruments cannot offer you, yet
which are part of every Pianola-Piano — even the
least expensive at $550.

We suggest that you read "The Pianolist" by
Gustave Kobbe— on sale at all book stores — or if
you will write us we will send it with our compli-
ments. Address Department "D"

THE AEOLIAN COMPANY

Aeolian Hall New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Why Experiment ?

Use a

Standard Brand

of Cocoa.

BENSDORP'S

cocof

Absolutely
Pure.

*<#« &,

Requires only

as much
as of other makes
because of its
DOUBLE STRENGTH

Always in Yellow Wrapper. Sample on request.

STEPHEN L. BARTLETT COMPANY, Importers, Boston

Report on Advertising Competition No. 131

Now let's all work with might and main on
the puzzle in this number, because it is a good
one, even if Alexander did invent it.

Here are the victors :

One First Prize, $5.00 :

William Wootton Ladd, age 10, Alabama.

Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each )

Paul Olsen, age 1 5, Washington.
Al. Schrier, age 15, New York.

Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each:

Mary Maud Hollington, age 14, California.
Persis L. Whitehead, age 11, Illinois.
Thyrza Weston, age 1 5, Ohio.

Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each :

Honorable Mention :

Gladys A. Doloff, age 13, Maine.
Clara Hawkins, Texas.
Louise Corey, age 13, New York.
Harriet Crawford, age 10, Illinois.

(See also page 30.)

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Vi Pint
Vi Dollar

Buy the big Household or Fac-
tory Size 3-in-One and get 8
times as much oil for your money.

3-in-One keeps almost everything in
home, office or store perfectly oiled — also
as clean and bright as a new silver dollar.

Always use 3-in-One on sewing machines,
typewriters, razors, cameras, talking ma-
chines, furniture, bath room fixtures, guns,
reels, and hundreds of other things.

The 3-in-One Dictionary, with every bot-
tle, shows you scores of ways this good oil
makes hard work easy.

PRCC Generous sample bottle sent on request. Try before
rivDC you buy.

SOLD AT ALL GOOD STORES

3-IN-ONE OIL COMPANY

42 Q. H. Broadway, New York

Housewives — Try 3-in-One for Dusting.

BREAKFAST

A morning beverage that is delicious
— with anymeal — anytime — forgrow-
ing children — every member of the
family. Highly nourishing for in-
valids, and easily digested. Finely
flavored, and always healthful.

At All Leading Grocers ,

Fifth Avenue at 35th Street

CHOCOLATES, BONBONS. FRENCH BONBONNIERES

Afternoon tea served in the
Luncheon Restaurant, three to six

j&tnTe- 1857

BORDEN'S
EAGLE BRAND
CONDENSED MILK

Has been the
Leading Brand
for Household Use

and Nursery

BORDEN'S

Condensed

Milk Co.

New York

Send for Recipe Book
Send for Baby's Book

"LEADERS OF QUAUTT

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Why

Announcements of reliable advertisers only are ac-
, „ cepted. The Department will gladly give advice
HXpenme.RTMENT." St. Nicholas, Union Square, New York.

Use a

Standard Brand

of Cocoa.

BENSDORP'S

IRISH TERRIERS

The best "youths' companion." Strong,
hardy pups always for sale.

Bay Shore Kennels, "Clifton," Shelbume, Vt.

Money inSquahs *l

Learn this immensely rich business!

we teach you; easy work at home;

everybody succeeds. Start with our
Jumbo Homer Pigeons and your success is assured.
Send for large Illustrated Book. Providence
Squab Company, Providence, Rhode Island.

Do you love dogs?

Send stamp for
"Dog Culture" to

SPRATT'S Patent Limited

Newark, N. J.

THIS IS WANG

a darling Pekingese PztJ>fiy, the little dog with
a big bark, a big heart, a big brain. Pekingese
are unexcelled in their affection, intelligence, and
sturdiness. Small enough to hug, big enough to
be a real comrade and playfellow. The Ideal Pet.
Others like Wang waiting to be your pet.
All ages and colors- prices reasonable.

PEKIN KENNELS
Jericho Turnpike Mineola, L. I., N.|Y.

Established 1875

PETS

All kinds, and everything for them

Send for Catalogue " R "

William Bartels Co.

44 Cortlandt St., N. Y.

THE BEST DOG

F. R. CLARK, Prop.

SUNNYBRAE KENNELS(Registered)

Bloomington, III.

Airedale Terriers

Most popular dog of the day

The Airedale is the best companion,
watch-dog, and all-round hunting-dog.
Ideal pets for children, faithful, kind,
and wonderful intelligence.

Puppies from $25 up.

Beautiful booklet free.

Elmhurst Airedale Kennels

Kansas City, Mo. Sta. E.

BULL TERRIERS

Eugene E.Thomas, Attleboro, Mass.

West Highland White Terrier Pups

ByCh.GlenmohrModel.

Ex. Talisker Twinkles.

Address

HIGHLAND KENNELS

Care D. B. Merriam
Lyons Falls, New York

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

1847 ROGERS BR0S.€

Spoons, Forks, Knives, etc., of the highest
grade carry the above trade mark. -I

"Silver Plate
that Wears'

irrteed by the largest makers of silverware.

INTERNATIONAL SILVER CO., MERIDEN,

Successor 1o Meriden Britannia Co.

CONN.

NEW YORK

CHICAGO

SAN FRANCISCO

Send for
catalogue " A-5."

Advertising Rates

Effective with issue of January, 1913

St. Nicholas Magazine

Established 1873

One page (5^"x8")'

Half page ( 5'A" x 4" or 2%" x 8" )

Quarter page ( S'/i" x 2" or 2H" x 4" )
Less than quarter page at line rate

DISCOUNTS

10% on 3 pages within 12 months.
25% on 6 pages within 12 months.
25% on 12 consecutive insertions.

$150.00

75.00

37.50

1.00

3 pages in The Century with 3 pages in St. Nicholas, within 12

TERMS

3% discount for cash. All bills are due on 25th
of month preceding date of issue.

Forms close on 25th of second month preced-
ing date of issue.

Address mail or express matter

Advertising Department
The Century Co.

33 East 17th Street, New York City

MENNEN'S

FOR MINE

Mennen's SK2 Powder

keeps my skin in healthy condition

Sample Box for 4c stamp
For 15c in stamps we will mail you
prepaid our beautiful 1913 calendar

GERHARD MENNEN CO.

Newark, N. J.

Trade Mark

Hinds
Liquid
Cream

in boltk

50c

of TACT,
WHANDS
HINDS "ESS? CREAM

Relieves at once, quickly heals, makes clear, velvety skin. Complexions are greatly im-
proved by its use. Endorsed by refined women. Soothes infants' skin troubles. Men who
shave prefer it. — Is not greasy; cannot grow hair; is absolutely harmless. At all dealers.
Write tor Free Sample Bottle and Tub*. A. S. HINDS, 74 Wes t St., Portland, Maine

57*. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

^HE next time you are brightening up things about the house, consider the
» piano. Is the woodwork dull and lusterless ? Are the keys soiled and
discolored ? You can wash the piano just as safely and satisfactorily
as you can wash the furniture if you use Ivory Soap and follow these directions :

To Clean the Woodwork

To Clean the Keys

Dip a clean, soft cloth, in tepid water
and wring almost diy. Rub on a cake of
Ivory Soap and wipe off the keys. Polish
at once with a damp chamois.

Clean the woodwork once a month,
the keys once a week, and you can keep
your piano like new.

tVORY SOAP, because of its mildness, purity and freedom from alkali,
, cannot mar the finish. Because of its freedom from excessive oil, it rinses
easily and does not leave a film upon the surface. The dirt which
obscures the finish is removed so that the original polish of the woodwork is
restored and the keys appear as white as when new.

IVORY SOAP 99&* PURE

JS&S^SMi^^

It's good old Peter's
that the wise Scout
carries in his knapsack.

Peter's Milk Chocolate is included in the rations of
the armies of the World Powers. Its sustaining

qualities and convenient, compact form

place it in the first rank.

Explorers from pole to pole, mountain
climbers and big game hunters the world
over depend on this wonderful confection.

"High as the Alts in Quality '

jg^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^j

A Good Present

for the Men and Women of the Future

COLGATE'S

RIBBON DENTAL CREAM

TRADE MARK

IT ERE is a dentifrice so delicious in flavor that you
•*■ * easily form the twice-a-day tooth-brush habit.

It is also safe, efficient and antiseptic, and it helps
you to sounder, cleaner, better teeth.

Let each boy and girl have a tube of Colgate's Ribbon
Dental Cream and start to-day in the road to Good
Teeth — Good Health.

Get Colgate's at \jour dealer s — or send us 4c. in stamps
for a trial tube — and our booklet " Oral Hygiene."

COLGATE & CO.

Dept. 60, 199 Fulton Street, New York

Makers of Cashmere Bouquet Soap —
luxurious, lasting, refined.

I'MOTHER GOOSE" PICTURES BY ARTHUR RACKHAM

ol. XL, No. 6 APRIL, 1913 PRICE, 25 CENTS

ST NICHOLAS

ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS

« FREDERICK WARNE & CO • BEDFORD ST • STRAND • LONDON «

THE- CENTURY- CO - UNION - SQUARE -NEW- YORK

WILLIAM W. ELLSWORTH, IRA H. BRAINERD, GEORGE INNESS, JR., TRUSTEES. UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK.

Copyright, 1913, by The Century Co.] (Title Registered U. S. Pat. Off.) [Entered at N. Y. Post Office as Second Class Mail Matter

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Victor-Victrola XVI, $200

Mahogany or quartered oak

Other styles of the

Victor-Victrola, $15 to $150

Victors, $10 to $ioo

If the Victor-Victrola did nothing- but bring to you the soul-
stirring arias and concerted numbers of opera, beautifully rendered
by the world's greatest artists, that alone would make it a treasured
addition to your home.

But besides the compositions of the great masters, the Victor-
Victrola brings into your home a wonderful variety of music and
mirth, that satisfies alike the longing for musical harmonies and
the taste for sheer entertainment.

And as you sit and enjoy all these musical riches, you will
marvel at the varied accomplishments of the Victor-Victrola and
thoroughly appreciate its value as a companion and entertainer —
a treasured possession in your home.

Any Victor dealer in any city in the world will gladly demonstrate
the Victor-Victrola to you and play any music you wish to hear.

Victor Talking Machine Co., Camden, N. J., U. S. A.

Berliner Gramophone Co., Montreal, Canadian Distributors

Always use Victor Machines with Victor Records and Victor Needles —
the combination. There is no other way to get the unequaled Victor tone.

Victor Steel Needles, 6 cents per 100
Victor Fibre Needles, socentsper 100 (can be repointed and used eight times)

VictorVictrola

New Victor Records are on sale at all dealers on the 28th of each month

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

April First

That 's the day that

Peter and Polly

Ponds

got back home to New York
after their long trip around
this wonderful country.

Oh, yes, every healthy boy
and girl knows what the
first of April means, and so
did Polly and Peter. They
had a nice little surprise to
spring on Uncle Henry
Ponds, their pet uncle who
lives in New York City and
did n't expect his little niece
and nephew for several days
yet. They were going to get into Uncle Henry's
office on the sly and get up behind him and put
their hands over his eyes and make him guess who.
And it did n't matter a bit whether he guessed right or not. Uncle Henry would
see to it that Polly and Peter had a " perfectly corking time."

Well, what do you think ? When they got on the ferryboat coming across the
Hudson River from Jersey City to New York, there was a smart little messenger
boy, who came up as soon as he saw them and said:

"Is this Miss Polly and Mr. Peter Ponds? 'cause if it is, here 's a package for you."
"Oh, yes!" cried the children together. "Who 's it from?"
"The gentleman says not to mention his name, an' you '11 know when you look
inside," replied the boy, grinning from ear to ear.

Polly and Peter did n't lose a minute opening that box. Inside they found a pack-
age all nicely done up, and when they cut the string they had to unwind just yards
and yards of tissue-paper before they got to a solid little parcel which said on it :

"Welcome Home!" — Uncle Henry

And then they untied this package and found —
Oh, you think you know what they found, do you?
"A bottle of

POND'S EXTRACT!"

No, you 're all wrong! It was two bottles of Pond's Extract and two jars of Pond's
Extract Company's Vanishing Cream and two cakes of Pond's Extract Soap. Now —

April Fool ! ! for you all.

"Well," cried Polly to Peter when they saw what was inside, " that 's the nicest April Fool trick I ever heard
of! Is n't Uncle Henry a perfect dear?"

" He surely is," said Peter. " How do you s'pose he knew just what we wanted most? They 're the very
best gifts any boy or girl could get. I don't care what happens to us now, we 're all ready for it."

I can just hear you all shout :

If you boys and girls want a sample bottle of Pond's Extract like Polly
and Peter always carry with them, just write to Pond's Extract Company

POND'S EXTRACT COMPANY

131 Hudson Street - - New York

POND'S EXTRACT COMPANY'S Vanishing Cream
— Talcum Powder — Toilet Soap — Pond's Extract.

IIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIinilllHIIIHHUHIHIIII fllf """

[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 APRIL, 1913.

Frontispiece. "Jack and Jill." Painted for St. Nicholas by Arthur

Rackham. Page

The Nursery Rhymes of Mother Goose: "jack and Jill." " if all

the world was apple-pie. " 481

Illustrated by Arthur Rackham.

The Great Blue Heron. Verse Laura Spencer Portor 482

Illustrated by Bruce Horsfall.

The Baby and the Bear. ("Babes of the Wild "—IV.) Story Charles G. D. Roberts 486

Illustrated by Paul Bransom.

Helene and Lucy. Picture. Pajnted by H. S. Hubbell 491

The Book of Black Art. Verse Augusta Huelll Seaman 492

Illustrated by Herbert Paus.

Rapid Transit. ) „. t „ , . „ „ , AQ±

Quite Unnecessary Alarm. \ r'etures- Drawn by A. Z. Baker 494

On the Flood Crest. Story Charles Tenney Jackson 495

Illustrated by B. J. Rosenmeyer.
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Biographical Sketch Ariadne Gilbert 499

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Nature and Science for Young Folks 556

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JACK AND JILL."

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ST. NICHOLAS

Vol. XL

APRIL, 1913

No. 6

Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water;

Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.

If all the world was apple-pie,

And all the sea was ink,
And all the trees were bread and cheese,

What should we have for drink ?

Vol. XL.— 61-62.

THE GREAT BLUE HERON — "AND HE WAITS AND THINKS, AND THINKS AND BIDES.

BY LAURA SPENCER PORTOR

X*.

The great blue heron flies for the lakes,
But no one knows the path he takes.
We never know, and we never hear,
But there comes a time, at the turn of the year,
When from his wings the dew he shakes,
When from his dream he turns and wakes,—
His dream of the great blue Northern lakes.
Then his foot uncurls, slow, downward drawn ;
Fan-like and sleepy, his wings they yawn,
Then twitter down quiet against his sides :
And he waits and thinks, and thinks and bides.
For his dream has been long, and his waking

slow,
But this is the way you may guess and know
That he tires of the swamps, and the Southern

breeze,
And the cypress-moss, and the Southern trees.

And the North, meantime, — though you hear

no word,
You know as plainly as though you heard—
It is saying, "Is it not nearly time
For the heron to come from the Southern clime?"
The low, bare apple boughs all wait,
And the poplars shiver and think him late;
483

484

THE GREAT BLUE HERON

[April,

And the maples watch in the evening chill
Hour after hour, but he comes not, still.
And the young moon climbs the sky, and says,
"Is the heron come? Oh, length of days!
Has he left the marsh for our Northern home?
Does any know?— Has the heron come?"

Then the apples and maples and poplars sway
Bloomless ; and, shaking their boughs, say,

"Nay."
Then the young moon wearies, and goes to bed,
And the great stars watch in her place instead.
Then another day and night; but still
The moon sees naught from the western hill
But bloomless pastures, leafless, chill.

Another night she comes and says,
"Is the heron come? Oh, length of days !
From the South is the great blue heron flown?"
Then the first star whispers, "Yes, Lady, gone !"

Then the moon's pale finger beckons and gleams
Heavy with jeweled rings of dreams;
And her skirts trail over the woods and streams.
And wherever they trail, on branch or stem,
Stir wonderful dreams at the touch of them—
In boughs all bare but yesternight,
Stir wonderful dreams of blossoms white ;
In boughs that yesternight seemed dead,
Stir marvelous dreams of blossoms red.
Then the sap creeps swift; the bare boughs
bloom ;

I9I3-]

THE GREAT BLUE HERON

485

The violets under the boughs make room.
And because the heron is on the wing,
The earth blooms into the waking spring !

And the heron ? They say he seeks some tree,

The tallest northmost pine maybe,

Beyond the great blue Northern lakes,

And here it is his rest he takes,

Away from human sound and sight ;

And he sleeps by day, and he dreams by night.

He sleeps with his head beneath his wing,

And he pays no heed to anything

Save his dreams of the year

And the tides of spring.

'Til he knows again 't is the mystic day,

'T is the time once more to fly away ;

'Til he knows once more 't is the mystic time

To fly again to the Southern clime.

O great blue heron, wake and fly !

We are tired of the clouds and the leaden sky ; —

We are tired of winter, my brother and I.

THE BABY AND THE BEAR

FOURTH STORY OF THE SERIES ENTITLED "BABES OF THE WILD"

BY CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS

A stiffish breeze was blowing over Silverwater.
Close inshore, where the Child was fishing, the
water was fairly calm, just sufficiently ruffled to
keep the trout from distinguishing too clearly
that small, intent figure at the edge of the raft.
But out in the middle of the lake, the little white-
caps were chasing each other boisterously.

The raft was a tiny one, four logs pinned to-
gether with two lengths of spruce pole. It was
made for just the use to which the Child was
now putting it. A raft was so much more con-
venient than a boat or a canoe, when the water
was still and one had to make long, delicate casts
in order to drop one's fly along the edges of the
lily-pads. But the Child was not making long,
delicate casts. On such a day as this, the some-
what simple trout of Silverwater demanded no
subtleties. They were hungry, and they were
feeding close inshore; and the Child' was having
great sport. The fish were not large, but they
were clean, trim-jawed, bright fellows, some of
them not far short of the half-pound; and the
only flaw in the Child's exultation was that Uncle
Andy was not on hand to see his triumph. To be
sure, the proof would be in the pan that night,
browned in savory corn-meal after the fashion of
the New Brunswick backwoods. But the Child
had in him the making of a true sportsman ; and
for him a trout had just one brief moment of
unmatchable perfection— the moment when it
was taken off the hook and held up to be gloated
over or coveted.

The raft had been anchored, carelessly enough,
by running an inner corner lightly aground. The
Child's weight, slight as it was, on the outer end,
together with his occasional ecstatic, though si-
lent, hoppings up and down, had little by little
sufficed to slip the haphazard mooring. This the
Child was far too absorbed to notice.

All at once, having just slipped a nice half-
pounder onto the forked stick which served him
instead of a fishing-basket, he noticed that the
wooded point which had been shutting off his
view on the right seemed to have politely drawn
back. His heart jumped into his throat. He
turned, and there were twenty yards or so of
clear water between the raft and the shore. The
raft was gently, but none too slowly, gliding out
toward the tumbling whitecaps.

Always methodical, the Child laid his rod and
his string of fish carefully down on the logs, and

then stood for a second or two quite rigid. This
was one of those dreadful things which, as he
knew, did happen, sometimes, to other people, so
that he might read about it. But that it should
actually happen to him! Why, it was as if he
had been reading some terrible adventure, and
suddenly found himself thrust, trembling, into the
midst of it. All at once those whitecaps out in
the lake seemed to be turning dreadful eyes his
way, and clamoring for him! He opened his
mouth and gave two piercing shrieks, which cut
the air like saws.

"What 's the matter?" shouted an anxious
voice from among the trees.

It was the voice of Uncle Andy. He had
returned sooner than he was expected. And in-
stantly the Child's terror vanished. He knew
that everything would be all right in just no time.

"I 'm afloat. Bill's raft 's carrying me away !"
he replied, in an injured voice.

"Oh !" said Uncle Andy, emerging from the
trees and taking in the situation. "You are
afloat, are you ! I was afraid, from the noise you
made, that you were sinking. Keep your hair
on, and I '11 be with you in five seconds. And
we '11 see what Bill's raft has to say for itself
after such extraordinary behavior."

Putting the canoe into the water, he thrust out,
overtook the raft in a dozen strokes of his pad-
dle, and proceeded to tow it back to the shore in
disgrace.

"What on earth did you make those dreadful
noises for," demanded Uncle Andy, "instead of
simply calling for me, or Bill, to come and get
you ?"

"You see, Uncle Andy," answered the Child,
after some consideration, "I was in a hurry,
rather, and I thought you or Bill might be in a
hurry, too, if I made a noise like that, instead
of just calling."

"Well, I believe," said Uncle Andy, seating
himself on the bank and getting out his pipe,
"that at last the unexpected has happened. I be-
lieve, in other words, that you are right. I once
knew of a couple of youngsters who might have
saved themselves and their parents a lot of trou-
ble if they could have made some such sound as
you did, at the right time. But they could n't, or,
at least, they did n't ; and, therefore, things hap-
pened, which I '11 tell you about if you like."

The Child carefully laid his string of fish in a

THE BABY AND THE BEAR

487

cool place under some leaves, and then came and
sat on the grass at his uncle's feet to listen.

"They were an odd pair of youngsters," began
Uncle Andy, and paused to get his pipe going.

"They were a curious pair, and they eyed each
other curiously. One was about five years old,
and the other about five months. One was all
pink and white, and ruddy tan, and fluffy gold;
and the other all glossy black. One, in fact, was
a baby ; and the other was a bear.

that was intended to be conciliatory; tor though
the baby was small, and by no means ferocious,
he regarded her as the possessor of the raft, and
it was an axiom of the wilds that very small and
harmless-looking creatures might become dan-
gerous when resisting an invasion of their rights.
"The baby, on the other hand, was momentarily
expecting that the bear would come over and bite
her. Why else, if not from some such sinister
motive, had he come aboard her raft, when he

PAoJ.-SeAN"DO(v

'IT WOULD HAVE BEEN HARD TO SAY WHICH OF THE PAIR REGARDED THE OTHER WITH MOST SUSPICION.

"Neither had come voluntarily into this strange
fellowship ; and it would have been hard to say
which of the pair regarded the other with most
suspicion. The bear, to be sure, at five months
old, was more grown-up, more self-sufficing and
efficient, than the baby at five years ; but he had
the disadvantage of feeling himself an intruder.
He had come to the raft quite uninvited, and
found the baby in possession ! On that account,
of course, he rather expected the baby to show
her white, little teeth, and snarl at him, and try
to drive him off into the water. In that case, he
would have resisted desperately, because he was
in mortal fear of the boiling, seething flood. But
he was very uneasy, and kept up a whimpering

had been traveling on a perfectly good tree? The
tree looked so much more interesting than her
bare raft, on which she had been voyaging for
over an hour, and of which she was now heartily
tired. To be sure, the bear was not much bigger
than her own Teddy bear at home, which she was
wont to carry around by one leg, or to slap with-
out ceremony whenever she thought it needed
discipline. But the glossy black of the stranger
was quite unlike the mild and grubby whiteness
of her Teddy, and his shrewd, little, twinkling
eyes were quite unlike the bland shoe-buttons
which adorned the face of her uncomplaining pet.
She wondered when her mother would come and
relieve the strain of the situation.

488

THE BABY AND THE BEAR

"All at once, the raft, which had hitherto voy-
aged with a discreet deliberation, seemed to be-
come agitated. Boiling upthrusts of the current,
caused by some hidden unevenness in the bottom,
shouldered it horridly from beneath, threatening
to tear it apart ; and unbridled eddies twisted it
this way and that with sickening lurches. The
tree was torn from it and snatched off reluctant
all by itself, rolling over and over in a fashion
that must have made the cub rejoice to think that
he had quitted a refuge so unreliable in its be-
havior. As a matter of fact, the flood was now
sweeping the raft over what was, at ordinary
times, a series of low falls, a succession of saw-
toothed ledges which would have ripped the raft
to bits. Now the ledges were buried deep under
the immense volume of the freshet. But they
were not to be ignored, for all that. And they
made their submerged presence felt in a turmoil
that became more and more terrifying to the two
little passengers on the raft.

"There was just one point in the raft, one only,
that was farther away than any other part from
those dreadful, seething, crested, black surges,
and that was the very center. The little bear
backed toward it, whimpering and shivering,
from his corner.

"From her corner, directly opposite, the baby,
too, backed toward it, hitching herself along, and
eying the waves in the silence of her terror.
They arrived at the same instant. Each was
conscious of something alive, and warm, and
soft, and comfortable, with motherly suggestion
in the contact. The baby turned, with a sob, and
flung her arms about the bear. The bear, snug-
gling his narrow, black snout under her arm, as
if to shut out the fearful sight of the waves,
made futile efforts to crawl into a lap that was
many sizes too small to accommodate him.

"In some ten minutes more, the wild ledges
were past. The surges sank to foaming swirls,
and the raft once more journeyed smoothly. The
two little voyagers, recovering from their ecstasy
of fear, looked at each other in surprise ; and the
bear, slipping off the baby's lap, squatted on his
furry haunches and eyed her with a sort of guilty
apprehension.

"Here it was that the baby showed herself of
the dominant breed. The bear was still uneasy
and afraid of her. But she, for her part, had no
more dread of him whatever. Through all her
panic, she had been dimly conscious that he had
been in the attitude of seeking her protection.
Now she was quite ready to give it, quite ready
to take possession of him, in fact, as really a sort
of glorified Teddy bear come to life ; and she felt
her authority complete. Half coaxingly, but

quite firmly, and with a note of command in her
little voice which the animal instinctively under-
stood, she said: 'Turn here, Teddy!' and pulled
him back unceremoniously to her lap. The bear,
with the influence of her comforting warmth
still strong upon* him, yielded. It was nice, when
one was frightened and had lost one's mother, to
be cuddled so softly by a creature that was evi-
dently friendly in spite of the dreaded man-smell
that hung about her. His mother had tried to
teach him that that smell was the most dangerous
of all the warning smells his nostrils could en-
counter. But the lesson had been most imper-
fectly learned, and now was easily forgotten.
He was tired, moreover, and wanted to go to
sleep. So he snuggled his glossy, roguish face
down into the baby's lap, and shut his eyes. And
the baby, filled with delight over such a novel and
interesting plaything, shook her yellow hair down
over his black fur and crooned to him a soft bab-
ble of endearment.

"The swollen flood was comparatively quiet
now, rolling full and turbid over the drowned
lands, and gleaming sullenly under a blaze of sun.
The bear having gone to sleep, the baby pres-
ently followed his example, her rosy face falling
forward into his woodsy-smelling black fur. At
last the raft, catching in the trees of a submerged
islet, came softly to a stop, so softly as not to
awaken the little pair of sleepers.

"In the meantime, two distraught mothers,
quite beside themselves with fear and grief, were
hurrying down-stream in search of the runaway
raft and its burden.

"The mother of the baby, when she saw the
flood sweeping the raft away, was for some mo-
ments perilously near to flinging herself in after
it. Then her backwoods common sense came to
the rescue. She reflected, in time, that she could
not swim, while the raft, on the other hand, could
and did, and would carry her treasure safely
enough for a while. Wading waist-deep through
the drowned fields behind the house, she gained
the uplands, and rushed, dripping, along the ridge
to the next farm, where, as she knew, a boat was
kept. This farm-house, perched on a bluff, was
safe from all floods; and the farmer was at
home, congratulating himself. Before he quite
knew what 'was happening, he found himself be-
ing dragged to the boat, — for his neighbor was
an energetic woman whom few in the settlement
presumed to argue with, and it was plain to him
now that she was laboring under an unwonted
excitement. It was not until he was in the boat,
with the oars in his hands, that he gathered
clearly what had happened. Then, however, he
bent to the oars with a will which convinced even

. - ■ s

« 8RAM-6Q

'SHE SWAM FRANTICALLY, HER GREAT MUSCLES HEAVING AS SHE
SHOULDERED THE WAVES APART.'" (see page 490.)

490

THE BABY AND THE BEAR

that frantic a 'vehement mother that nothing
better could be l 'anded of him. Dodging logs
and wrecks and v^yooted trees, the boat went
surging down the flood, while the woman sat
stiffly erect in the stern, her face white, her eyes
staring far ahead.

"The other mother had the deeper and more
immediate cause for anguish. Coming to the
bank where she had left her cub in the tree, she
found the bank caved in, and tree and cub to-
gether vanished. Unlike the baby's mother, she
could swim ; but she knew that she could run
faster and farther. In stoic silence, but with a
look of piteous anxiety in her eyes, she started
on a gallop down the half-drowned shores, clam-
bering through the heaps of debris, and swim-
ming the deep, still inlets where the flood had
backed up into the valleys of the tributary brooks.

"At last, with laboring lungs and pounding
heart, she came out upon a low, bare bluff over-
looking the flood, and saw, not a hundred yards
out, the raft with its two little passengers asleep.
She saw her cub, lying curled up with his head
in the baby's arms, his black fur mixed with the
baby's yellow locks. Her first thought was that
he was dead— that the baby had killed him and
was carrying him off. With a roar of pain and
vengeful fury, she rushed down the bluff and
hurled herself into the water.

"Not till then did she notice that a boat was
approaching the raft, a boat with two human be-
ings in it. It was very much nearer the raft
than she was, and traveling very much faster
than she could swim. Her savage heart went
near to bursting with rage and fear. She knew
those beings in the boat could have but one ob-
ject, the slaughter, or, at least, the theft, of her
little one. She swam frantically, her great mus-
cles heaving as she shouldered the waves apart.
But in that race she was hopelessly beaten from
the first.

"The boat reached the raft, bumped hard upon
it, and the baby's mother leaped out, while the
man, with his boat-hook, held the two craft close
together. The woman, thrusting the cub angrily
aside, clutched the baby to her
breast, sobbing over her, and
threatening to punish her when she
got her home . for giving so much
trouble. The baby did not seem in
the least disturbed by these threats,

to which the man in the boat was listening with
a grin, but when her mother started to carry her
to the boat, she reached out her arms rebelliously
for the cub.

" 'Won't go wivout my Teddy bear,' she an-
nounced, with tearful decision.

" 'Ye 'd better git a move on, Mrs. Murdoch,'
admonished the man in the boat. 'Here 's the
old b'ar comin' after her young un, an' I 've a no-
tion she ain't exackly ca'm.'

"The woman hesitated. She was willing
enough to indulge the baby's whim, the more so
as she felt in her heart that it was in some
respects her fault that the raft had got away.
She measured the distance to that formidable
black head, cleaving the water some thirty yards
away.

"' 'Well,' said she, 'we may as well take the lit-
tle varmint along, if Baby wants him.' And she
stepped over to pick up the now shrinking and
anxious cub.

" 'You quit that, an' git into the boat, quick !'
ordered the man, in a voice of curt authority.
The woman whipped round and stared at him in
amazement. She was accustomed to having peo-
ple defer to her; and Jim Simmons, in particular,
she had always considered such a mild-mannered
man.

" 'Git in !' reiterated the man, in a voice that
she found herself obeying in spite of herself.

" 'D' ye want to see Baby et up afore yo'r
eyes?' he continued sternly, hiding a grin beneath
the sandy droop of his big mustaches. And with
the baby kicking and wailing, and stretching out
her arms to the all-unheeding cub, he rowed rap-
idly away, just as the old bear dragged herself
up on the raft.

"Then Mrs. Murdoch's wrath found words, and
she let it flow forth while the man listened as
indifferently as if it had been the whistling of the
wind. At last she stopped.

" 'Anything more to say, ma'am?' he asked po-
litely.

"Mrs. Murdoch answered with a curt 'No.'

" 'Then all / hev' to say,' he went on, 'is, that
to my mind mothers has rights.
That there b'ar 's a mother, an'
she 's got feelin's, like you, an'
she 's come after her young un,
like you, — an' I was n't a-goin' to
see her robbed of him.' "

HELENE AND LUCY.

FROM THE PAINTING BY H. S. HUBBELL.
491

THE BOOK OF BLACK ART

493

There, on a table, a great book he saw,
The Book of the Black Art.
"Now here is something worth my time, I vow !"
He muttered with a start.

Seated so that the lamplight lit the book,

To read it long he tried.
And turned its pages fully half an hour,

Then chanced to look aside,
And saw the tent with grinning goblins filled,

All pressing close about.
The more he read, the more they thronged
the place,

Nor could he drive them out.

Some sat on others' shoulders, and all cried :

"Quick ! Give us work to do !"
Ivan thought swiftly, and his orders gave:

"This task I have for you,
Fill all the cisterns in the near-by town

With water in a sieve !"
Off flew the goblins. Ivan said, relieved,

"Long work, that, as I live!"

But e'en before he 'd turned to read a line,
Back came the goblins all.
"More work! more work!" they shrieked, and
thronged him close.
"More work !" each imp did call.
"Go to the house where dwells the governor,"

Cried Ivan in despair,
"Take it down brick by brick, then build it up,
Using such cunning care
That not an inmate there will realize

The feat that has been done !"
Off flew the goblins, but were back before
He had a word begun.
"More work !" they screamed. Some huge task
to invent
The wretched Ivan tried.

"Go ! Count you every drop from source to mouth
Of the great Volga's tide!"

They disappeared, and straight were back once
more.

Then Ivan thought, "We '11 see
If while the Book of Black Art I peruse,

They '11 distant keep from me."

Again he turned a page, but thick and fast.

Increased the impish band.
They dimmed the very lamplight, and, 't was
plain,

His suffocation planned.

In terror for his life he now was placed,

And the distracted man,
Racking his brains to think what he should do,

At length hit on a plan :
"Since in this book with every page I turn.

The imps collect apace,
If I should change about and backward read,

Perchance they 'd leave the place !"

He started at the back, and one by one

The goblins disappeared ;
The more he read, the thinner grew their ranks,

Until the tent was cleared.

When Ivan's friend the story heard, he said :

"You should have known before,
Those imps would surely soon have claimed
your life,
Had you read forward more !"

This legend does the Russian moujik tell.

And counsels all to heed,
That when the Book of Black Art they peruse,

They from the back must read!

RAPID TRANSIT.
The Chipmunk: "Whew! Wish I 'd taken the underground instead of the elevated! "

QUITE UNNECESSARY ALARM.
Master Toy-Terrier: "Excuse me, sir. What does that sign mean?"
Mr. Newfoundland : " Don't be afraid, Tiny. You have only to read the last word to see that it does not apply to you.1

494

"TUG SHOUTED AND DASHED UP TO TURN THE CATTLE BACK.

ON THE FLOOD CREST

BY CHARLES TENNEY JACKSON

"Day after to-morrow," said the captain of the
levee guards, "the flood crest will be on us. The
Government forecast says thirty-six feet, and,
boys, that 's two feet more than our levees ever
had to stand since they were built ! And we
can't get any help from the relief boats— they 're
fighting the Morganza crevasse. Mr. Wilson,
we 've got to put every man and boy in this town
on the river, night and day, till the crest passes.
How old is that lad of yours?"

"Thirteen," answered Wilson, the section boss,
"and he is n't very big, either. But there is n't
much about the river he don't know. He 's crazy
to study navigation and be a pilot. He 's rigged
a little gage of his own back of the plantations,
and every night he comes to tell his mother and
me how far the back-water has come in from the
swamps. And I declare he gets it right with the
Government register too !"

The weary levee captain wiped his brow. With
the other men of Rose Mound, his sleep had been
snatched in brief hours between watching the
huge yellow flood of the Mississippi sweep
around the bend of the levees, higher and higher
day by day; higher now than the roof-tree of
any house in the village. A break anywhere in

the eight-mile bend of earthworks would smash
it like a town of cards, and bury every foot of
land from the river to the Gulf beneath a rushing
sea.

"Tug 's a good boy," resumed the father ;
"send him out."

But the levee chief shook his head. "I 'm
afraid. It 's a big responsibility. The lives of
every one of us — the town and all the plantations
— everything depends on every man! A boy
might watch for seepage and sand-boils all right,
but there 's always the chance that some one
across the river will sneak on us, and blow our
levee to save their side. To-morrow — when every
man 's dead-beat out — we '11 maybe call on the
boys like Tug."

That evening, when he went off his shift, Wil-
son told Tug what had been said. He had of-
fered his boy with a heavy heart, for it was
facing the chance of death to walk the wave-
lashed levees in the dark. A shift of the wind,
a twisting eddy against the weakened banks, and
the guardsman would be hurled into a crevasse
from which there was no escape. At home, there
might be ten minutes' warning to reach the rafts
and boats, or the housetops and trees.

496

ON THE FLOOD CREST

But Tug was disconsolate. "I wish you 'd let
me go ! If the captain wanted me— and they
need me ! I know every foot of the lower levee,
Father, and— and they ought to trust me. If
you 'd only let me go !"

He went off after the cattle after supper, the
most disappointed boy in Louisiana. All the local
river-men, levee guards, pilots, and masters —
the hardy, resourceful men he most admired —
would be on watch, and he wanted to be with
them. He loved the mighty river ; it was the
dream of his life to be a pilot some day, and take
one of the ocean liners up from Southwest Pass
to New Orleans. He told his father that he was
saving the money, earned by driving in the vil-
lage milch cows, to pay his way through the
school of navigation in the city.

It was dusk when Tug got his cows together
in the swampy woods and out in the county road
which led along the levee. He found the creep-
ing back-water closer in on the meadows, and
when he was in the road, urging on the last lag-
gard yearling, it gave him a sense of the resist-
less power of the Mississippi to glance up at the
green parapet of earth, and realize that, behind
it, in the beating waves thirty feet above his
head, the rains and melted snows of a third of
the United States were rushing past to the sea.

When he came to the bend above the town, he
decided to run up the bank and look over the
flood. But before he reached the place, he saw
the foremost cow turn sharply off and charge
clumsily up the levee. During high-water, all
stock was forbidden on the levees, and Tug
shouted and dashed up to turn the cattle back.
He discovered that the workmen, "topping" a
weak spot with sand-bags, had torn down a sec-
tion of the wire fence, and through this the thirty
cows followed. Gaining the top, they ran along,
and Tug could not head them. He realized the
danger. The water was already lashing the soft
earth where the levee top was not five feet wide,
and the cattle hoofs cut the dirt into mud. Some-
where beyond, the herd would encounter a levee
guard who would stop the flight, but Tug would
be blamed for it all. Never would the men allow
him to patrol the river now !

Barefooted and hatless, he dashed on to over-
come the leaders. The younger cows he scat-
tered down the bank, but the old "bell" and a
few others kept on. It was almost dark when he
reached them, and he could hear the roar of the
big eddy in the bend. And then, just a few yards
ahead, he saw the leader stop. The old brindle
cow lowered her head, sniffed, then made a
clumsy jump. The next cow tried it, and wal-
lowed down. Another crowded after, and they

all passed on. But Tug stopped, staring down at
the levee. Then he looked out on the river.
The lights of a steamer were coming up. He
knew it was the Government relief boat, carry-
ing men and sand-bags up to the threatened
crevasse twenty miles above. But she was sheer-
ing dangerously in toward the big bend. And
right here at Tug's feet, the first water was
pouring through a low spot where the guards
had made a sand-bag "topping"— a mere trickle
which the cattle had churned deeper, so that now
the mud was being filtered over and down the
grassy bank inside.

The boy was swept by the sense of peril. At
flood stage, the steamers were warned away from
the levees, but the heavily laden Magnolia was
fighting a north wind and the pull of the big
eddy, and, to bring her out of the bend, she
would go hard to starboard, so that the wash
from her paddle-wheels would come straight in
on the crumbling bank. Already Tug saw one
of the sand-bags sink and twist down in the soft
earth, and the water come gurgling over it. He
stood on the bag topping and shouted, but he
knew at once that the steamer men could not
hear him, or probably could do nothing if they
did.

He turned and shouted wildly down the levee.
No guard was in sight. The scanty force had
beats much too long. The sentinel was probably
watching some other weak point as the steamer
went by. But Tug had no time to think. Only
he knew, of a certainty, a crevasse was coming.
Once the wash of the boat started the frail bank,
it would blow out with a roar. He had had a
moment's panic that urged him to run for his life
back the way he had come. But below the levee
lay the little town, the orchards, and, beyond, the
great plantations, the lives of all the people ; and,
somehow, he felt they all lay in his hand. If the
bank broke, it would widen with incredible ra-
pidity ; not only the country below the levee, but
the Magnolia, with her men and the supplies hur-
rying to the aid of some other town, would be
drawn straight into the crevasse, and wrecked
in a moment's time.

Tug ran back to the topping bags. The water
was boiling down among them now; the smear of
yellow dirt was widening over the grass, and he
heard the stream running into the roadside ditch.
He bent down and dragged at one of the sacks.
It was heavy beyond his strength, but he tum-
bled it into the breach. Then another, and an-
other, lying down, sticking his toes among the
sacks, and pushing the others with his shoulders.
They wallowed down and were covered rapidly.
He looked off in the wind and dark to see the

'"HOLD HER OUT! HOLD HER OUT!' SHOUTED TUG." (see page
Vol. XL. — 63-64. 497

498

ON THE FLOOD CREST

■Magnolia's green port light almost abreast of
him now. There she was, swinging seventy
yards off in the flood to pull out of the bend, the
hoarse exhaust of her stacks showing the strug-
gle she was making to keep off the levee.

"Hold her out! hold her out!" shouted Tug,
involuntarily. Then he bent to his frantic task
of dragging the sand-bags off the line of top-
ping into the sinking earth. A "sand-boil" must
be developing in the outer edge of the levee, he
thought, from the swiftness with which the
water surged in on him. He was almost to his
waist in the mud now, pulling at the last bag
within reach. Then he felt the entire barricade
he had built up in the crevasse settling; one of
the sacks was jammed against his leg, and he
dropped the other sack to try and draw himself
out. But he was trapped !

Vainly he fought the heavy bags. With every
surge of the flood, the mud and sand sank more
tightly about him. Both his legs were caught
now. After one desperate struggle, he knew it
was useless ; a quicksand could not have held
more mercilessly. He lay over the sacks in the
gap, and stared out over the mighty river as it
rushed past him. The lights of the Magnolia were
vanishing. Another instant, and only her high
stern light and a faint blur from her paddle-box
marked her path. The roar of the water under
her wheel came on the wind.

Tug lay watching and listening in a fascinated
guess as to when the steamer's wash would hit
the levee, and at just what angle.

"If it hits me straight," he muttered, "there 's
no use. Everything 's gone. The town, and the
sugar-houses, and Mother, and Dad, and— and
me!" And he added, with a choke in his throat,
"Me first! Nobody '11 ever know I tried to stop
it! The levee boss— nor anybody!"

Straining his gaze out in the dark, it seemed
as if he could see a white surge coming in. He
had sunk so much now that his head was hardly
above the level of the water. Then he heard the
rush of the wave against the eddy's current. It
was coming !

And against his shoulder now he felt the main
force of the break. The water was flowing be-
tween it and the toppling sand-bags. He could
pull at nothing to stop the crevasse. Then he
began to take off his flimsy cotton coat, dragging
it out of the sand over his wet back. He held it
against the flow, and began to reach around the
sand-bags and scoop in the dissolving earth.
Faster and faster he worked, raising himself a
bit, and finding more mud. One of the sand-
bags had become untied, and he was able to seize
it and drag it into the gap and against his mud-

filled coat. Then he lay fiercely watching over
the river, the roar of the steamer's wake now
drowning the pant of her engines.

The next instant it struck the bag topping.
Tug saw the white spray leap high in the air all
along, yards above him, come cutting down the
levee, and then it was flying over his head. The
surge was on him. The sand-bags seemed to
rise and mash in on hiru, but his eyes and mouth
were filled with water, and he could do nothing
but fight to hold the last armful of his defense.
The earth was washed clean out of his coat, and
he felt the spurt of the current all about him
among the sinking sand-bags. He heard the roar
iof the water all along the topping, but now he
heard something else— a shrill whistle down the
levee, the patrolman's signal of danger that
would bring the relief forces, the wagons stand-
ing ready with hitched horses to gallop to the
breaks with timbers and bags to fight the crev-
asses.

A man came running up the bank through the
water as Tug was struggling to keep his head
and arms clear. The boy heard his frightened
cry at the size of the break, then the frantic
whistle again and again for help. Then the guard
dashed at the topping, and began to drag at the
sacks. He was tumbling the first one down in
the crumbling levee, when he heard Tug's voice.

He bent to grasp the lad's hands. "What !
Who? Tug Wilson— up, out of this!" They
strained and heaved. "Hold on!" shouted the
guard. "I can't move you— and the water 's com-
ing fast !"

"Fill her in!" yelled Tug; "I been trying to!"

"You!" roared the guard, as he worked des-
perately. "What 're you doing on the levee ? Keep
still — here comes the gang and the wagons —
they '11 pull you out, Tug." He turned and
shouted at the men swarming through the fence.
"Get that boy out— and the sacks in ! In five
minutes the whole river would have been through
here — and he stopped it!"

It was the big levee captain himself who stooped
down and lifted Tug out when the men dragged
the sand-bags from his legs. Tug could not walk
for a time, and crawled off on the levee to watch
a score of men work desperately by the lanterns'
light to fill the gap. It was half an hour before
the levee boss could find time to come to Tug. He
sat wearily down.

"Tug, this town sure owes everything to you.
The whole State does ! I reckon they ought
to give you whatever you want most of all !"

"Some day I want a license to take one of
those liners up over the bar," Tug answered.

One afternoon at sundown, about a hundred
years ago, a slightly built boy in "blue nankeen"
— not half so blue as his own eyes— might have
been seen driving his mother's cow from pasture,
along the streets of Boston. He was eating a
big, juicy pear. When the cow came to the old
wooden parsonage, at the corner of Summer and
Chauncy Streets, near the place where Hovey's
store now stands, she turned in naturally, jan-
gling her bell, and Ralph Waldo Emerson turned
in after her.

It was a peaceful home, though everything
was simple and many things were poor. From
the windows you could see the harbor and the
ships that came and went ; and there were wide,
empty fields, neighborly barns and sheds, and al-
ways the open sky, and the changing tide, and the
salt smell of the sea. It was very near here that,
a hundred years before, Benjamin Franklin and
his friends had built their fishing wharf of "bor-
rowed" stones; and the five Emerson brothers
had the same chance as Franklin to catch "tom-
cod and flounders."

Let us guess that this night, however, when
the cow had been milked and stabled, the boy,
Ralph Waldo, did not think of the sweet, famil-
iar view, or even of the morrow's fishing, but of
the new book which he had just drawn from the
circulating library for the large payment of six
cents. It was a novel, and he was part way
through. But to-night his Aunt Mary found him
reading, and talked to him so seriously of his ex-
travagance and of his mother's need, that, we
are told, "He left the story unfinished, and did
not take out the second volume."

Yet it must not be thought that the Emerson
boys did not love their Aunt Mary, or that she

did not love them. She was the "family sibyl,"
determined that the boys should be defrauded
of nothing real, and determined that, poor as
they were, they should have not only school but
college, for, she said, they were "born to be edu-
cated." She, herself, trained in them "all the
powers of the mind and heart." She gave them
the sturdy maxim, "Always do what you are
afraid to do." And no one knows how much that
maxim may have braced the hearts of Ralph and
Edward, when, sharing as they did the same
greatcoat, other boys would call out, jeeringly:
"Whose turn is it to wear the coat to-day?" "My
grandfather," Emerson says, "prayed every night
that none of his descendants might ever be rich,"
and surely his prayer was answered in the case
of that one family.

When Ralph was only eight, his father died,
leaving six children, all under ten. His mother
took boarders, struggling through the crowded
days, rising early and working late, with the fond
hope throbbing in her heart that her boys might
have every chance. Perhaps those boys shared
her care too early and were over-serious ; but, at
all events, they were not selfishly irresponsible,
thinking of no one but themselves ; they sympa-
thized with her lovingness and her weariness.
Ralph told his older brother, William, that he
thought it would be his "happiest earthly mo-
ment" when he had "a home comfortable and
pleasant to offer his mother."

Though Boston winters are long and snowy,
and coasting is fine on the hills, Ralph Emerson
never owned a sled. But when we remember
that, in the winter of 1814, when he was only
eleven, the family were in actual need of bread,
it is good to know that he did not whimper for

499

500

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

playthings. That year, too, his baby sister died,
the only girl of the family. And so circumstances
combined to give him a serious face and a serious
heart.

Perhaps he cared less than other boys for ath-
letics because he was never physically strong;
but he was no "Miss Nancy," and no "saint," and
once, at least, he played truant from Mr. Webb's
school "to romp on the common."

There was one school, however, from which
Emerson was willingly excused after a day's at-
tendance. It was a singing-school, and Ralph
Waldo had not the slightest ear for music. When
his turn came to sing, the master said to him,
"Chord !"

"What?" said the child.

"Chord ! chord ! I tell you," repeated the mas-
ter.

"I don't know what you mean." The blue eyes
looked puzzled.

"Why, sing! Sing a note!" So the boy made
"some kind of a noise," as he called it, and the
singing-master said : "That will do, sir. You
need not come again."

To know that many of our greatest men have
been lacking in some particular, as Emerson was
in music, seems to make them human, like our-
selves ; and it is always inspiring to know that
most of them overcame handicaps.

The handicap of poverty is one of the simplest
to overcome. It makes men of fiber. Every one
of the Emerson boys prepared for college, except
Bulkley, who had to be cared for all his life be-
cause he "never grew up in mind." Each of the
others helped himself to an education. Ralph
Waldo wrote from Harvard : "I am to wait in the
Junior Hall. I do like it, and yet I do not like it ;
for which sentiments you can easily guess the
reason." And so it happened that the boy of
brains was servant to the boys of money ; while
he brought them coffee and rolls, he was bring-
ing himself character.

Meanwhile, matters were simplified at home by
his step-grandfather, Dr. Ezra Ripley, inviting
Mrs. Emerson and her sons to live with him in
Concord. That made Ralph Waldo's climb to
culture happier, because less burdened. Some
one has said, "The best of his education he gave
himself in rambling reading and incessant prac-
tice in writing, and by that note-book in which,
from his junior year, he began the process of
storing thoughts, phrases, suggestions, for future
use." Emerson himself said: "A chamber alone,
that was the best thing I found at college." And
ever after, when he gave advice to young men,
it was, "Sit alone; and keep a journal."

He was younger than most of his class, and

not physically strong; but, if he failed in athlet-
ics (which, in truth, he hardly attempted), he
won in other respects, and did it, too, without
being a "regular grind."

There were three specially happy days at col-
lege : the days he won honors. Although he was
made class-poet only after seven others had been
asked, he was perfectly delighted, and describes
himself as walking up and down his lonely little
room "flushed and proud of a poet's fancies." An-
other year, he took a second prize for a composi-
tion on Ethics, and the Boylston prize in decla-
mation. He sent the Boylston prize-money
straight home, joyfully hoping that his mother
would spend it on a new shawl, and he was bit-
terly disappointed when a letter came from the
eighteen-year-old brother William, "the care-
worn head of the family," saying he had used it
for the baker's bill.

The years following college were among the
hardest of Emerson's life. He tried to teach
school, to make enough money to study for the
ministry, which he had chosen for his profession,
and which had been the profession of seven gen-
erations before him. But, though he attempted
several different schools, he was utterly misera-
ble in them, and by no means successful. At
first, when he taught boys and won their love, he
seemed to manage fairly well ; but when it came
to assisting his brother William in a school for
"fashionable young ladies," a school held in his
mother's house, that was a different story. Let
him tell it :

"I was nineteen, and had grown up without sis-
ters, and, in my solitary and secluded way of liv-
ing, had no acquaintance with girls. I still re-
call my terrors at entering the school and my
timidities at French." Though he carried on the
school for more than a year, he never overcame
his bashfulness, or his powerlessness to disci-
pline those young ladies of Boston, some of them
older than himself. "They would ask him on
Election Day to give them a holiday while he
voted," knowing all the time he was a minor.
"They liked to make him blush." When they got
entirely beyond his control, he would send them
•to his mother's room for study. Here is part of
a sympathetic letter written by him to a friend
who was teaching : "How my heart bleeds for
you ! Better tug at the oar, dig the mine, or saw
wood; better sow hemp, or hang with it, than sow
the seeds of instruction." He called it "keeping
school," and found his only comfort in the after-
noons when he could get into the speechless com-
pany of trees and flowers, and where he was un-
blushingly at. home.

It seems strange that Emerson, who heartily

■SOMETIMES HE WOULD WANDER IN AND TELE HER WHICH BOOKS

SHE MIGHT LIKE." (see page 502)

502

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[April,

hated the official task of teaching, should have
been so great and so understanding a friend to
the countless young people who sought his sym-
pathy and advice years later under the elms of
Concord. If we could have run in on him in his
Concord home, as did his child-neighbor, Louisa
May Alcott, we should have known him much
better than we know him through any books.
Louisa Alcott went to school in his barn, and
played there with his children, gathered moss
from the woods for his arbor, ate pears from his
laden trees, and grew up under his kindly eyes
to be her brave, natural self. His library was al-
ways open to her ; and sometimes, when she
browsed among its shelves "for a new and very
interesting book," he would wander in and tell
her which books she might like, and which she
had better wait to know. When she was a little
girl, she sang the song of Mignon under his win-
dow, and, at fifteen, wrote him many letters —
her thoughts, her feelings — all her growing-up
ideas ; but she never got the courage to send
them. All through life, however, he was her
idol and her hero.

Not only was he the strongest influence on her
character, but he was the best friend her dreamy,
unpractical, business failure of a father ever had.
Knowing that Bronson Alcott could never earn
anything, Emerson had a way of leaving money
under a book on the Alcott table, or behind a
candlestick. He gave Mrs. Alcott five hundred
dollars to buy a place in Concord, and he offered
his own home as her husband's lecture-hall. In
Louisa's journal we read: "Father had four talks
at Emerson's; good people came and he enjoyed
them much; made $30. R. W. E. probably put in
$20."

Not only in business stress was Emerson a
master of sympathy; he helped Louisa in even
sadder times. When her dear young sister died
— the Beth of "Little Women" — he helped carry
the beloved body "out of the old home to the new
at Sleepy Hollow." And long years after, when
Louisa's precious mother had smiled her last
good-by, with "A smile is as good as a prayer,"
he was near the daughter to comfort her. The
telegram announcing the death of May Alcott
(Amy), in Paris, was sent to Mr. Emerson, to
"soften the blow." When Louisa came down-
stairs, she found him looking at May's portrait,
"pale and tearful, with the paper in his hand."
"My child," he began. "I wish I could prepare
you ; but alas, alas !" Then his voice failed, and
he gave her the telegram. Though she was a
woman over forty, she was still his "child," to
be deeply helped by a wordless grasp of his hand.

His love for her father, Bronson Alcott, had,

it may be, increased his love for the child, but he
always had a genial way with young people, and
a rare understanding of their thoughts. To her
he would say, "What is true for your own private
heart is true for others." His essays on "Self-
reliance," "Character," etc., helped her to fathom
herself, and "life and God and nature," and his
life and companionship, helped her to be strong.
On his part, he must have admired that "Spartan
spirit." Content to wear cast-off clothes, eager
to sew, and teach, and write, and work, able to
sing and pray over the wash-tub, or to mother

"HIS LITTLE FIVE-YEAR-OLD BOY, WALDO,
WORKED WITH HIM." (SEE PAGE 503.)

sick soldiers in war — that was Louisa Alcott.
While he liked the books she wrote for children,
he loved her growing, sturdy proof that "though
an Alcott, she could support herself."

We have let ourselves wander a little from
Emerson's own life to his neighbor's, but we
have known him better for the wandering. He
soon gave up the distasteful teaching, and, four
years after he left- college, when he was twenty-
three, began to preach. He was too frail, how-
ever, for the work. As Professor Woodberry
puts it, "He read if his eyes allowed; he walked

I9I3-]

LOUISA M. ALCOTT'S GREAT FRIEND AND NEIGHBOR

503

if his hip permitted; he preached if his lungs held
out; he went slow." Yet, somehow, he found
time and strength to help Dr. Taylor found a
Sailors' Mission, and to keep up his own preach-
ing, too, though, after each attempt, he had a
pain in his chest. Finally, he had to go to Flor-
ida for the winter, a hard thing to do for a man
like him, who did not know how to live luxuri-
ously, and was bored by idleness. "I stroll on
the beach," he wrote miserably, "and drive a
green orange over the sand with a stick."

In the shadow of great hardships, however,
such petty irritations disappear. Two years later,
Emerson's brother Edward, who had been work-
ing in Daniel Webster's law office and also teach-
ing school, was suddenly taken violently insane.
Edward was almost a part of Ralph's self. As
boys, they had bravely shared poverty, and sym-
pathy, and love ; but now Ralph carried this sor-
row alone. For Edward there was no conscious-
ness of the disaster; to Ralph it brought an
agony of grief. The sick brother was sent first
to an asylum in Charleston, and then to travel on
the Mediterranean and among the West Indies.
He died in 1834, after a six years' fight to save
his mind.

We pass swiftly in words over the long dark-
nesses in people's lives; perhaps because we need
to seek the sunlight, perhaps because we would
not try to utter what is unutterable. It was by
bearing sorrow himself, in the death of his broth-
ers, his wife, and his lovely boy, that Emerson
learned how to feel for others. His brother
Charles died soon after Edward, of lung trouble,
the same illness that conquered Emerson's first
wife, a frail flower of a woman, who lived less
than two years after her marriage.

I am glad he learned to love again, and that
he had a home and children, for he and children
always "took" to each other. The babies held out
reaching arms, to be strongly clasped in his.
Then, too, by this marriage he realized, for eigh-
teen years, his boyish hopes of giving his mother
a home ; and it was, as he had wanted it to be,
"comfortable and pleasant."

It stood among the peaceful fields of Concord,
not far from its lazy river, a big, square, hos-
pitable house with its thrifty orchards, and shad-
ing elms, and sweet air full of song. Almost
across the road, Alcott mused and talked ; a mile
or so away, lonely Hawthorne thought ; and deep
in the woods near Walden Pond, Thoreau lived
in his hut, caught the fishes in his hands, and
learned the hidden secrets of the outdoor world.
Emerson was Alcott's true friend and practically
his business-manager— and if ever a man needed
a business-manager, it was Alcott; Hawthorne

was too shy and Emerson too reserved for them
to get very well acquainted ; Thoreau and Em-
erson were thoroughly congenial, loving the same
things in the same way. When Emerson,
through his great awkwardness with tools, failed
to do all he tried, Thoreau came to the rescue :
he was his carpenter, and he planted his larches
and pines.

In his fourteen acres, more or less, there were
woodlands, fields, and a blackberry patch. Some-
times, much to Emerson's delight, the Indians and
gipsies camped on his ground. Then there were
the pines where his mother sat; a part of the
shore of Walden, where he and his children
swam, and fished, and skated ; and his orchard
and garden. Here he worked an hour or more
a day, pruning trees, digging, and weeding. Em-
erson's pears brought the highest price in the
Boston market. When he hoed his garden, "a
crop of comfort straightway sprang up." But
the work of weeding was as disheartening to him
as it is to other people. "I stoop to pick up a
weed that is choking the corn, and find there are
two ; close behind it is a third, and I reach out
my arm to a fourth ; behind that there are four
thousand and one." His little five-year-old boy,
Waldo, worked with him, silently happy by his
father's side. Seeing that his father did not use
a spade like any one else, he would call out,
"Take care, Papa, you will dig your leg !"

Emerson's habits of writing were very irregu-
lar ; he had a method all his own, and one that
few would imitate. One day a friend found him
seated at his desk with papers spread all around
him on the floor. From these, here and there, he
gathered a sentence or paragraph for his essays.
Like many other writers, however, he sometimes
composed out-of-doors in the woods or fields
where he loved to be.

Most of his writing was done in the mornings;
in the afternoons, he gardened or walked. In the
evenings, he often read aloud. He was a good
walker, "light, erect, and strong of limb." Occa-
sionally he hunted, but not to shoot. Though he
learned to use a rifle, his best friends believe
that he never used it on any living thing; and
though one night he paddled out to see a deer,
and drew close enough to have fired, he let the
sad-eyed creature have his life. To his own
question,

Hast thou named all the birds without a gun?
Loved the wood-rose and left it on its stalk?

he could answer a joyful yes. "Anemone and
chipmunk, titmouse and rhodora, black ice and
starlight, he knew and loved them all, and was
almost more than Thoreau a forest citizen."

504

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[April,

With a child's love for nature he would say,
"I expand and live in the warm day, like corn
and melons." To him there was "beauty in fog,
astronomy in plants and 'punctual birds,' " and
song and shine in all things of the earth, for

In the mud and scum of things
Always, always, something sings.

"Look," he seems to say,
find a star."

"above your desert and

Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know
What rainbows teach and sunsets show?

Here is part of an open letter of Emerson's
to his great friend, Carlyle. It gives us an indoor
glimpse of his home on May 10, 1838: "My wife
Lidian is an incarnation of Christianity. . . .
My mother, whitest, mildest of ladies . . . my
boy, a piece of love and sunshine well worth my
watching from morning to night; these and three
domestic women, who cook, and sew, and run for
us, make all my household." Other children fol-
lowed, among them the little Ellen, for whom
Louisa Alcott wrote "Flower Fables" ; and al-
ways the old Aunt Mary, who had been his boy-
hood adviser, was welcome in his home.

Emerson managed to give more time to his
children than such busy men can often give.
Awkward as he was with all tools and animals,
he knew well how to handle the smallest babies,
and they came to him with cooing gladness. At
his thoroughly New England breakfast, he liked
to eat his pie in peace, and would say to his chil-
dren, "At breakfast all must be calm and sweet;
nothing must jar." And if a child cried at the
table, he was apt to send it to see whether the
gate was shut, or whether the clouds were in the
sky, as if he trusted the "great, all-loving Day"
to bring it peace. "The small ambassador, a lit-
tle perplexed ... as to why he was sent there,
returned, solemnly reported, and climbed back
into his high chair." "You are bound to be
healthy and happy," Emerson would say ; "do not
have any hobgoblin of the sick sort, but live out-
of-doors, and in the sea-bath, and the sail-boat,
and the saddle, and the wagon, and, best of all,
in your shoes, so soon as they will obey you for
a mile. When you have worn out your shoes,
the strength of the sole-leather has gone into the
fiber of your body."

Though he was a preacher, he allowed his chil-
dren a great deal of liberty on Sunday. They
could walk and read, and bathe in Walden Pond ;
but they could not have playthings, or drive, or
row. They learned hymns, as he had done, and
went to their grandmother's quiet room for Bible
readings. Their father liked to have them go to

church, and they knew it; but the church service
was never insisted upon. It was possible that
they, like him, would find a church in the soli-
tary wood.

Emerson thought all young people should learn
to think of others. At one of the little Emer-
sons' birthday parties, the children got into the
haycocks and began throwing the hay all round,
much to the distress of the hired man. Out came
the father with "long strides." " 'Lads and
lasses ! You must n't undo hard work ! The man
has worked in the heat all day; now all go to
work and put back the hay' ; and he stayed and
saw it done, working himself."

When pleasures were harmless, however, the
father was heartiest of all in his encouragement.
Louisa Alcott remembered many such times with
his children, "when their illustrious papa was our
good playfellow. Often piling us into a bedecked
hay-cart, he took us to berry, bathe, or picnic at
Walden, making our day charming and memo-
rable by showing us the places he loved ... so
that when, years afterward, we read of 'the sweet
rhodora in the woods,' and the 'burly, dozing
humblebee,' we recognized old friends." He
called the pines "gentlemen," praised the specially
tall ones, and once he took off his hat to an extra
large red rose.

There came a time, however, when Emerson's
heart was robbed of its spirit of play. His little
Waldo — a living sunbeam and his father's con-
stant companion, the "deep-eyed boy" who fol-
lowed him from study to garden without bother-
ing or interrupting— was suddenly taken ill with
scarlet fever. Four days later, Louisa Alcott,
then eight years old, was sent over to ask how he
was. Mr. Emerson himself, worn with watch-
ing and sorrow, opened the door. When the little
girl saw how changed he was, she could hardly
stammer out her question.

"Child, he is dead !" fell the hollow answer.
Then the door closed, and she ran home to tell
the dreadful news and never to forget that an-
guished face. Emerson's beautiful "Threnody,"
in memory of Waldo, is one of the greatest of
American poems.

But poetry or prose could not begin to tell the
story. "You can never know," Emerson wrote to
Carlyle, "how much of me such a young child can
take away." He was lost for the "forever of
this world." Yet, even out of Emerson's be-
reavement, he breathed a blessing on John Tho-
reau, who had urged him to have Waldo's da-
guerreotype taken. There was, at least, that part
of his sunlight child to keep, besides the sacred
memory of his love.

We have talked much of Emerson's home and

1913]

LOUISA M. ALCOTT'S GREAT FRIEND AND NEIGHBOR

505

neighbors because through them he is best under-
stood. To many folk of his time he was a mys-
tery, a far-away enigma. And yet he was a man
of many friends. Like Agassiz, he belonged to
the famous Saturday Club where gathered Low-
ell, Holmes, Longfellow, Norton, Hawthorne, and
others. He came regularly and sat near Longfel-
low. To young people he gave himself even more
freely than to men of his own age. One lit-
tle girl always remembered him as the min-
ister who "took her on his lap and showed
her the barberry blossom,
and how its stamens sprang
up at the touch of a pin or
an insect." "My special

"His smile was the very sweetest I have ever
beheld," though it was a smile given to a perfect
stranger. It was he who pushed Carlyle's works

parish," Emerson once said, "is young men seek-
ing their way." Boys and girls came to him with
all their problems and confidences ; college fellows
asked his advice for their futures. Howells said,
when as a young man he went to see him :

S,br»i'ttf~' "A FRIEND FOUND HIM
SEATED AT HIS DESK
WITH PAPERS SPREAD
ALL AROUND HIM ON
THE FLOOR."

in this country, and who continued
to push them for twenty years ;
and, as we have said, he was Bronson Alcott's
bank-account, and Louisa Alcott's guiding star.

In farmers who plowed the fields, in sea-cap-
tains who hoisted sail, in boys and girls who
hoped and worked, he was deeply and perma-
nently interested, but never, never in those who
shirked and sagged. "The sun grudges his light,"

506

MORE THAN CONQUERORS

[April,

he would say, "the air his breath, to him who
stands with his hands folded in the great school
of God." When a letter came, then, from a
young girl, asking him to write her valedictory,
we can imagine that he gave her no gentle an-
swer. "Stand on your own feet; think your own
thoughts; live your own life," was his motto.

"To have a friend one must be one," Emerson
believed. It was beautifully touching to see the
eagerness of his many Concord friends to show
the genuineness of their friendship. As fellow-
citizen, Emerson had belonged to the fire asso-
ciation. "The leathern buckets and baize bag
always hung over the stairs in his side entry,"
and at many fires in the woods he had helped
beat out the flames with pine boughs. And now,
in 1872, the Concord citizens were given a chance
to fight a fire for him. Very early, one July
morning, Mr. and Mrs. Emerson were waked by
the crackling of flames, and barely escaped with
their lives from the burning house. Though the
whole upper half of their home was a ruin, hur-
rying neighbors saved many of the household
goods, Louisa Alcott guarding the precious li-
brary, badly soaked by the rain. Moreover,
those loving neighbors insisted, much against
Emerson's will, in rebuilding the house. Per-
haps they saw that the early morning work in the
pouring rain had been too hard on their dear
friend of nearly seventy. At any rate, the fol-
lowing October, while Emerson, with his daugh-
ter, Ellen, took his third trip to Europe, his Con-
cord friends restored his home.

He returned like a conqueror. There were sig-
nals to announce his coming, a triumphal arch,
and a brass-band ; there were carriages to drive
him and his family to the "new" house, round
which a crowd of old and young were gathered.
Even the babies in their wagons came out to
smile a welcome. Just before Emerson entered
his door, he turned round, and, walking back to
the gate, said in his old, gracious way : "My
friends ! I know that this is not a tribute to an
old man and his daughter returned to their house,
but to the common blood of us all— one family
—in Concord !"

So far, we have thought of Emerson almost
entirely as an influence on others, and have for-
gotten what influence life itself had on him —
Emerson, the minister, and yet not the minister,
for he preached only three years. In 1832, he
reached a crisis in thought which drove him to
the White Hills to consider his duty. He was a
kind of "walking sincerity," and he was, above
all, a believer in religious freedom. "God can be
worshiped in a barn," he said ; and when some
one once remarked that she did "not trouble the

church much," he answered quietly, "Then you
have somewhere a little chapel of your own."
This summer of 1832 he had reached the point
where he must be as free with himself as he had
always been with others. As the years had ad-
vanced, he had concluded that prayer to be real
prayer must come direct from a heart-felt long-
ing to talk with "Our Father." It was a Quaker
thought. With it had come an inability to fol-
low, sincerely, all the ceremonies of the church.
Accordingly, one memorable Sunday, Emerson
stood before his quiet little congregation, and
made a plain statement, asking to resign unless
he could be privileged to leave out certain cere-
monies which to him were insincere. His resig-
nation was accepted, and, in consequence, the
man who had spent his youth on teaching, which
he disliked, in order to earn money for the min-
istry, which he hoped to love, found himself
adrift, without a profession, poor, and with a
family dependent upon him, but too practical and
too noble to shirk responsibility.

Let no one think that the decision was easy.
It was reached through hours of lonely thought
and through the help of the solitary hills, and of
the Maker of the hills who helps us all. And it
was the steep, white path of truth that he had
chosen. His own gentle judgment of others may
teach us a gentle judgment of him— with honor
added for the sacrifice.

For it was a sacrifice. On his return from
Europe, in the winter of 1833-34, Emerson began
his life anew as lecturer. It meant hard work
in the study and hard work on the road, traveling
with those brain-stuffs of his as peddlers travel
with their wares. It meant, also, very small pay,
— an average of only $20 a lecture, — but Emer-
son was a "shrewd, sensible Yankee" who knew
that "a dollar is a dollar and a cent a cent, and
that dollars and cents are convenient things to
have in pocket. He was no crank, no dreamer."

He gave more than -he got, for, to all who
heard him lecture, he was an inspiration. To
young men he taught the hardy doctrine, drawn
perhaps from his own defeat, that "a good failure
is always a good experience." He made them
ashamed of frivolity, uselessness, and untruth;
it was as if he prayed with them that they might
always "know what is sacred."

Over six feet tall, Emerson stood before his
audience, slender, graceful, erect, with a smooth
face and clear, almost ruddy complexion, and a
wonderful smile that warmed. As he spoke in
that deep, musical "ground swell of a voice," he
was at once rousing and restful. Though by
many he was less understood than felt, he gave
courage and strength like a mountain wind.

I9I3-]

LOUISA M. ALCOTT'S GREAT FRIEND AND NEIGHBOR

507

"Do you understand Mr. Emerson?" asked one.
"Not a word, but I like to go and see him stand

RALPH WALDO EMERSON IN 1854

up there and look as if he thought every one was
as good as he was."

The impressions of Lowell, who heard him as
a young man, are interesting: "It was as if, after
vainly trying to get his paragraphs into sequence

and order, he had at last tried the desperate ex-
pedient of shuffling them. . . . Did you say he
was disconnected? So were the stars." And
later, in a letter to Norton, "Emerson's oration
was more disjointed than usual, even with him.
It began nowhere and ended everywhere, and yet,
as usual with that divine man, it left you feeling
that something beautiful had passed that way-
something more beautiful than anything else. . . .
Every possible criticism might have been made
on it but one, — that it was not noble. . . . He
boggled, he lost his place, he had to put on his
glasses; but it was as if a creature from some
fairer world had lost his way in our fogs, and it
was our fault, not his. . . . All through it I felt
something in me that cried, 'Ha, ha, to the sound
of the trumpets !' "

Emerson died of pneumonia in 1882, a few
weeks before his seventy-ninth birthday. It was
early spring, too early for many of the wild flow-
ers he had loved. But his friends placed vases of
lilies of the valley, red and white roses, and ar-
butus on the mantel in the Concord home ; and
Louisa Alcott made a harp of yellow jonquils.
She and others softened the church pulpit with
boughs of pine and hemlock and- the tender coral
of the maple blossoms, — wild things which many
do not see, but which his love had welcomed
every year. Then he was laid to rest in Sleepy
Hollow, close to his own little Waldo, and a few
steps from Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Beth Alcott.
There is a great rock of rough rose-quartz over
his grave ; mating-birds come in the spring to
nest in the tall grass, and violets blossom under-
neath the pines. It is all as peaceful as it should
be,— the resting-place of a "royal soul" who had
fulfilled his kingship, and a captain who had kept
his "rudder true."

A FEW QUOTATIONS FROM EMERSON

If we live truly, we shall see truly. It is as easy for the
strong man to be strong, as it is for the weak to be weak.
When a man lives with God, his voice shall be as sweet as
the murmur of the brook and the rustle of the corn.

Thou canst not wave thy staff in air,

Or dip thy paddle in the lake,
But it carves the bow of beauty there,

And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake.

The manly part is to do with might and main what you
can do.

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,

Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.

and our little wherry is taken in tow by the ship of the great
Admiral which knows the way, and has the force to draw
men and states and planets to their good.

Life is not so short but that there is always time enough
for courtesy.

Great men are they who see that spiritual is stronger than
any material force ; that thoughts rule the world.

Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.

So nigh is grandeur to our dust,

So near is God to man,
When Duty whispers low, "Thou must,"

The youth replies, "lean!"

Our helm is given up to a better guidance than our own, O friend, never strike sail to a fear! Come into port

the course of events is quite too strong for any helmsman, greatly, or sail with God the seas!

THE DANCING CLASS — "THAT AWKWARD BOY!

DRAWN BY GERTRUDE A. KAY.

508

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

{A sequel to " The Lucky Sixpence")

BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE

Chapter XI

NEWS FROM ENGLAND

The sight of Blundell and Schmuck brought a
chill to my heart, and I had scarce a word to say
on our way back to Denewood from the ball.

"Why are you so gloomy ?" asked Polly, as we
rode on.

"Brother John is going to the front," I an-
swered, thinking that a sufficient explanation for
my lack of gaiety.

"Oh, is he?" said Polly, indifferently.

"B-Bee, dear, I 'm s-s-so s-s-sorry," cried Peg,
reaching up and patting my cheek with her soft
little hand; and, for the time being, I was com-
forted.

We all slept late the next morning, but, when
I awoke, my thoughts turned instantly to the two
men, and I began again to wonder what they could
have to say to each other. Though I saw no way
in which they could injure us, I could not shake
the fear of them from my mind, and I wished
Brother John had not been forced to go away
just then.

It was a gossipy breakfast we had, Polly and
Betty regaling us with chatter of the ball, and
making light of the affront put upon the Mischi-
anza ladies, by insisting that the Colonial officers
knew no better, but would learn. Peggy stuttered
volubly in their defense, but I could not bring
myself to care very much what Polly and Betty
might say, and so was rather silent.

After breakfast, on going to straighten my
room, I noted the silver paper lying under my
bottle of lavender-water, and, seeing the piece
Polly had torn off, I thought what a pity it was
she could not have been more patient, and taken
some other bit of paper for her purpose. I picked
up the strip, intending to smooth out a crease or
two that the curling-iron had made, when, in
turning it over, my eyes were attracted by many
faint lines drawn on the white undersurface.

In amazement I carried it to the window to ex-
amine it closely, remembering that John and Bart
and I had certainly found it blank. Here I saw
clearly that it was a map of some kind, rough,
't is true, but still a chart, with names and figures
carefully set down, where before there had been
nothing. I cfould scarce believe my eyes.

I sat with it in my hands, too astonished to do
aught but look and look, and turn it over and over.

Upon studying it further, it at once became
plain that I had, as yet, only a portion of the
map, the rest evidently being upon the other bit
of paper. I arose, and hurried to the dressing-

ru/UVl CV

THE TORN MAP.

table in a fever of excitement, to fit the torn
edges together.

But the other half was absolutely blank, and,
though the torn edges matched, there were no
lines on the second piece of paper to complete the
picture.

I puzzled my brains for an explanation. Could
some one have drawn the lines there after the
sheet was torn in two? But 't was impossible to
believe that so careful a drawing should have
been put upon a torn piece of paper. Moreover,
the lines ran in such a way that it seemed clear
they must be completed on the other half. It was
a mystery for which I could find no solution.

It seemed more than probable, however, that I
had, at last, come upon the paper which the Magus
had wanted, and had gone to such lengths in his
effort to obtain, and I decided to hand it over to
John at the first opportunity. To which end I
put both pieces beneath a pile of tuckers in my
clothes-press, where they were less likely to be
blown away.

I had scarcely concealed them when Clarinda
came running into my room.

"Miss Bee ! Miss Bee !" she cried, her eyes
wide open and showing much of the whites.
"Mrs. Mummer says you-all is to come right
off ! There 's been a robber done got into Mas-

509

510

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[April,

ter John's room, and the place looks worse than
yours did awhile back. Come on, Miss Bee,
'cause certainly somethin' am queer !"

I hurried with her to John's room, and found it
in quite as much confusion as Clarinda had de-
scribed. The presses, drawers, and book-shelves
had been emptied, and their contents lay scattered
on the floor. Chairs were upturned, the bed was
pulled apart, rugs had been piled in a corner ; it
was clear, at a glance, that some one had been
hunting for something with the same thorough-
ness that had been shown when my room had, in
a like manner, been ransacked.

That this outrage could be the work of an or-
dinary thief was out of the question, for, as had
been the case in my room, an examination showed
that nothing had been stolen, and confirmed my
belief that the drawing was the object of these
strange visitations.

At first, the matter seemed plain enough.
Schmuck was still looking for his map, and, hav-
ing failed to find it in my possession, had, not
unnaturally, come to the conclusion that I had
given it to John.

And yet this explanation was far from satis-
factory ; for, when my room had been ransacked,
the silvered paper was in plain sight, and may
even have been in the hands of the searcher.
Could it be that there was still another map? I
puzzled over it, but found no reasonable answer
to the riddle.

Then another thought came into my mind to
plague me : could Blundell, whom I had seen talk-
ing to the Magus, have aught to do with the mat-
ter ? I feared Blundell more than any one on
earth, and it was with a sigh of relief that I dis-
missed this idea. Hans Kalbfleisch had said noth-
ing of the British officer, and I could n't reason-
ably connect him with this affair. 'T was only
my nervousness where he was concerned that
had suggested such a possibility.

After Mrs. Mummer and I had put Brother
John's room to rights, I went back to my chamber
and took out the map, viewing it with even more
interest than I had before. With such a search
going on, it was clear that it was of importance,
and that, if I wished to keep it until John came,
I must find a safer place for it.

I puzzled a little as to just where I should hide
it, but, after some thought, I decided to put it in-
side the silk-embroidered cover of my book of
Maxims. Once before I had secreted a paper
there, and carried it through many dangers.

I cut the stitches holding the cover, and slipped
the pieces of silvered paper inside, taking a last
glance at the map to be sure that it was really
there, and that I had not been dreaming. Then,

smoothing all out nicely, I took a needle and
thread, and fastened the cover as it had been be-
fore.

"I shall tell Brother John about it the first
chance I have," I said to myself, as I put the lit-
tle book away.

But more than a year went by before I saw
John again, the months passing quickly without
many events of importance to mark them in my
memory.

In January, I had an opportunity of renewing
my acquaintance with His Excellency, General
Washington, who was in Philadelphia to attend
a banquet given to celebrate the alliance with
France. We heard news of it, and it must have
been a most splendid affair, for thirteen toasts
were drunk, one for each State, accompanied by
salutes of artillery.

It was at this time that General Washington
sat to Mr. Peale for the portrait which, two or
three years later, was totally defaced by Tories
who broke into the council-chamber where it
hung.

Madame Washington, too, was in Phila-
delphia, and there was an entertainment given in
her honor, to which we all went under the care
of Mrs. Bache.

When I made my curtsey to her, Lady Wash-
ington was pleased to say that the general had
brought her word that the little mistress of Dene-
wood was an accomplished housewife.

I blushed mightily at this compliment, and was,
for the moment, too embarrassed to speak, but
Madame Washington said: "There, there, my
dear," in so kindly a tone, that I was set at my
ease.

The Fourth of July, 1779, was celebrated on
Monday the fifth. We went in the evening to see
the fireworks, Polly and Betty in gay gowns
made by Mrs. Ann Pearson in Second Street ;
which gowns, being adorned with gauze at fifty
dollars the yard, called forth some fine comments
on elegant extravagance from little Peg.

That summer saw two victories for our arms
which I only recount because John was engaged
in both of them. The British had sent expedi-
tions into Connecticut, plundering and burning
New Haven, East Haven, Fairfield, and Nor-
walk. New London was to be the next victim,
but the British force was recalled after our men,
under Mad Anthony Wayne, attacked and took
Stony Point.

General Wayne was wounded in the head, and
John, with one of the general's aides-de-camp,
carried him on into the fight, because, they said,
"Mad Anthony would never forgive those who
carried him away from a battle."

'9i3]

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

511

The second victory was at Paulus Hook, where
John and Allan McLane were with Major Henry
Lee of Virginia. They swam the canal and cap-
tured the fort ere the British could fire a piece
of artillery.

John told us about it himself, when he returned

WHEN DID YOU ARRIVE?' I WENT ON, RUNNING DOWN TO
GREET HIM." (SEE PAGE 512.)

at the end of the year's campaign to set some of
his affairs in order.

"Both our young soldiers were blooded there,
and behaved with credit. Mark will make an
officer when he 's older, if he but gets over his
present idea that he is a special providence sent
to guard me."

I laughed to myself at this, much pleased to
learn that my substitute was attentive to his duty.

John now took out letters of marque and
shipped crews on several of his trading vessels,
which were roughly outfitted as privateers. Cap-
tain Timmons appeared unexpectedly at this time,
having but newly escaped from the British, who
had captured him when he had brought me to
the Americas. He and I
were the best of friends, and
I had a warm welcome for
him, and a thousand ques-
tions to ask of his adven-
tures since we had last seen
each other. It was Captain
Timmons who had made a
rebel of me, so I had a soft
place in my heart for him.

Allan McLane having been
promoted to a majority, John
was a captain now, and, al-
though I had hoped he would
stay with us, he insisted
upon sharing the lot of his
troop during that cold and
snowy winter of 1780, which
was almost as bad as Valley
Forge had been.

But the winter passed, new
campaigns were planned by
both sides, and the war
seemed no nearer an end
than before.

At Denewood, our affairs
prospered, and Mummer
ceased to growl at the de-
struction wrought by the
British, for all signs of it
had been wiped out, even the
new fences and buildings
that had replaced those
which had been burned hav-
ing taken on a weather-
beaten look, and ceased to
remind us of those unhappy
days.

I had many plans for the
future, and was longing for
the time to come when
Brother John would be back
for good. Now and then, I would remember the
Magus and Blundell, but I neither saw nor heard
aught of them, though occasionally I recalled the
map hidden in the cover of my little book of
Maxims, where it had remained undisturbed all
this time. I always told myself that I must show
it to Brother John, but when he came, I was so
busy, and his visits were so short, that I was sure
to forget till he was gone again.

512

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[April,

In July, 1780, there came news that put all
thought of such things out of my head for a
long, long time, and brought a change that altered
my whole way of life.

I was astonished one morning as I came to the
head of the stairs on my way to breakfast, to see

•I TURNED TO TAKE A LAST LOOK AT DENEWOOD." (SEE PAGE

Brother John awaiting me in the great hall be-
low.

"John !" I exclaimed, for, as I had grown older,
the ceremonious "Brother John" had been
dropped.

He looked up and waved a hand to me.

"When did you arrive?" I went on, running
down to greet him.

"I came late last night," he answered gravely,
taking my hands; "I wouldnothaveyouawakened."

"Is aught wrong?" I asked, for plainly he was
not himself, and lacked the happy, boyish manner
I was used to. "Have we lost a battle?"

"Nay," he answered, and tried to smile in the
old way ; "we 've driven Clinton back into New
York, and his quarters there are almost as close as
were Howe's in Philadelphia."

"Then come to breakfast,"
I said, taking his arm; "you
must be hungry, or you
would n't look so doleful."

That brought a little laugh,
though not a hearty one.

"So, disciple of Mrs. Mum-
mer !" he cried. "If aught
seems wrong with a man,
't is but an empty stomach."

At the table, he sat list-
lessly over his food, going
off now and then into a
brown study, and coming
back to his surroundings with
an effort, so that I began
truly to be worried, nor was
I the only one who noted it.

"B-b-but, Cousin John,
have the B-B-B-British taken
your a-a-appetite ?" asked
Peggy, pointing to the un-
touched fodd on his plate.

But insteadof answering,he
pushed his chair from the table.

"Have you finished, Bee?"
he asked, and then, without
waiting for an answer, went
on : "I can't eat, and that 's
a fact !"

"What is it, John?" I said,
getting up and going to him.

"I know not how to tell
you," he replied; "but they
have sent for you from Eng-
land. And— and I must let
you go."

I looked at him in amaze-
ment, not taking in the full
purport of his words.
"Nay," he continued, almost roughly, " 't is
the bitter truth I 'm telling you. You must go
back to England, and that at once."

Chapter XII

A RUDE WELCOME

"And now for the whole tale," said John, in a
strained voice, drawing forth two letters, one of
which he handed to me. I saw that it was writ

I9I3-]

BEATRICE OE DENEWOOD

513

in Granny's neat hand. The other he opened and
prepared to read.

"Before I begin," he said, looking up from the
page, "I must tell you that the letters came in
under a flag of truce by the hand of a messenger
sent to treat for an exchange of prisoners. His
first inquiry was for a relative of Sir Horace
Travers, and I did not speak up and claim the
honor, as, in truth, I had forgotten all about Sir
Horace; but when he went on to say that Mis-
tress Beatrice Travers, sister to Sir Horace, was
staying with the gentleman he sought, I pricked
up my ears and went forward, little thinking
what good luck it would have been had I been
born deaf."

"But, John," I put in hastily, "I am not Sir
Horace's sister. I am but a cousin."

"You are Sir Horace's sister now," answered
John, gravely. And then I remembered that Hor-
de was the heir of Sir Horace, who had been ill
for years. The old man must have died and
Horrie come into his inheritance at last, and,
once this fact had gotten into my head, I under-
stood all. Long ago, when we were about to be
parted, Granny and Hal to go to Aunt Prudence
in Amsterdam, and I to seek my fortune among
the savages, Horrie had promised that, when he
came into his money, he would have us all back
again. So now I was sent for.

'T was a little strange what small joy that
thought brought me.

"Oh, John!" was all I could say, "must I go?"

"Aye, Bee, that was the question I asked my-
self at once. 'Must she go?' But listen to the
letter. 'T is from your brother's man of busi-
ness" ; and he read as follows :

"John Travers, Esquire,

At Germantown, in the Colony of Pennsylvania.
" Honored Sir :

" I write to apprise you of the demise, on the 3d day of
April, 1780, at Frobisham, in Kent, of Sir Horace Travers,
Bart. His young cousin having succeeded to his title and
estates, is most anxious that his sister should join him
here at the earliest possible moment, and bids me say that,
by the time of her arrival, his grandmother, who is ap-
pointed his guardian, and his younger brother will be
there as well. It is further his intention to provide his
grandmother with a suitable home for the remainder of
her life, and to set aside a generous jointure for his sister
so soon as he is of age to execute the deed.

" He wishes to express to you his gratitude for the
protection you have accorded to his sister, and to say how
glad he is to be able to relieve you of all further responsi-
bility. It will increase his indebtedness if you will arrange
for the young lady's passage on the first possible vessel, as
he is anxious that the family should be reunited.
"Yrs. respectfully,

"Jarez North."

"Why did not the lad write to me himself?"
asked John, as he folded the letter.
Vol. XL.— 6;.

I gave a half-laugh, although my heart was
aching.

"He was afraid he would not spell it right, of
course," I said. "Just look at the long words.
But oh, John ! must I go?"

"What bad news is in your letter?" he said,
putting my question aside.

' 'T is from Granny," I answered, and, open-
ing it, I read as follows :

"My dearest Beatrice:

"I am like a child let loose from irksome tasks. Sir
Horace has had the grace to die at last, and we are off for
England to join Horrie. Glad am I to shake the dust of
Amsterdam from off my shoes — only 't is too abominably
clean to have dust, and the people are so virtuous that one
longs for a chance to find fault with something.

" Your Aunt Prudence thinks 't is scarce decent to be
in such haste to be gone ; but, for my part, I shall not
spend in exile one day more than I must. At my age,
time is precious, so come to us soon, my sweet one, for my
heart is sore for a sight of you. Your exile has been so
much more dreadful than mine, that, were I not a selfish
old woman, I should have thought of naught else. Hurry
then, to your devoted old

"Granny.

"Post Scriptum. Hal says he hopes you have learned
the use of the bow and arrows from the Indians, and can
teach him. For my part, my one fear is that you may
have taken to the native fashion of painting your face,
which, I hear, is three wide stripes on each cheek."

"Oh, how like Granny it is !" I exclaimed at
the end. "Poor, dear Granny, with her foolish
notions ! though she does love me."

"And has your exile been so dreadful ?" asked
John, with a very serious face. " 'T is true you
have had some rough adventures for a little maid
—but has it been so dreadful?"

"Nay, 't is not necessary to answer that," for
this speech brought back my thoughts from
Granny, where they had strayed for a moment.
"Tell me, John," I went on, "must I go?"

"I can see no help for it," he said gloomily.

"And I can see no reason for it," I burst out.
" 'T is true I love Granny and the boys, but when
I was friendless, you gave me a home, the best
home a maid could have. 'T is not fair that the
minute my fortune changes, I should up and run
away from you !"

"I would not have you stay out of gratitude,"
he broke in.

"I know that, John," I answered. " 'T is be-
cause Denewood is my home, my real home, where
all my love is, and to leave it would be like tear-
ing up my heart by the roots. Say I need not go,
and 't will be all right. I will write a nice, long
letter to Granny, and when the war is over, we
will go together and pay her a visit."

I was eager that he should agree to this, think-
ing little of the difficulties in the way of such a
plan, but he shook his head.

514

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

[April,

"Go you must, Bee, though your going will
take all the sunshine from Denewood," he an-
swered. "I have talked with Madame Washing-
ton about it, and she is strongly of the opinion
that you should go."

"Then I thank her not!" I answered sharply;
"and it seems to me that this is a matter between
us, and one that Madame Washington can have
little knowledge of."

"Nay, Bee," he answered gently, " 't is a mat-
ter for older heads than either of us possess.
There is more in it than appears on the surface,
and 't is your future I must look out for, rather
than my present desires. 'T is for your sake,
and 't is your position in the world that I must
think of ; for, remember, the sister of Sir Horace
Travers is a great lady."

"I had liefer remain the sister of plain John
Travers of Germantown !" I broke in.

"Ah, but, Bee !" he replied, "you are not my
sister, and that makes all the difference."

We argued it a while longer, in fact I protested
to the very last, but John was firm. Finally,
when 't was settled, little Peg, who had sat listen-
ing all the while, broke in upon our talk.

"W-w-who 's to tell Mrs. M-M-M-Mummer ?"
she asked, whereat John gave a low whistle.

"Not 1 1" he said, with shameless cowardice.

Indeed, it was a task to fright any one, and
when at last the news was broke to her, she knew
not which to do most, pity or blame me. As to
John, she treated him, whom she idolized, with
supreme contempt.

"Let her go !" she would mutter darkly, "you '11
never be sorry but once — and that will be always,
as Mummer says."

There was little time wasted on the prepara-
tions for my journey. The excuse for the hurry
was the fact that Captain Timmons was in port
with the privateer bark Alert, and it was on her
that my voyage was to be made. The captain
had pressing matters to attend to in France, or,
at least, that is what John said, but it may well
be that, having once decided that I should go, he
feared that, with any delay, he might change his
mind ; and, in truth, it was better that the parting
should not be prolonged over weeks of anticipa-
tion.

Mrs. Mummer was in tears near all the time as
the day of my departure approached, and, in-
deed, the parting from her was not the least of
my heartaches. First she was for going with me,
but that I put a stop to because John would have
been left alone; and so it was settled that Clar-
inda should accompany me.

Even Polly and Betty showed a most surpris-
ing and unexpected feeling over the matter. Lit-

tle Peg, somewhat of a small Indian, was loth to
show her feelings. She hugged me hard, and
said" convulsively : "You will come back, B-Bee,
I know you w-will !" Then she ran away, that
I might not see her tears.

'T was a compliment and a comfort to me to
know that a friendless little maid had made a
warm place in so many hearts, but it scarce eased*
the pain of parting.

All the men and boys and women about the
place were on hand to drop a curtsey and wish
me a "God-speed," the morning of my departure,
and when I turned to take a last look at Dene-
wood, it seemed as if the flowers and trees, and
even the mansion itself, regretted my going; but
that, of course, was only my heavy heart that put
a shade of sadness into all I looked at.

Brother John came aboard the Alert to see me
comfortably settled, and, finally, the moment for
parting with him came.

"Must I go?" I said, looking up at him, my
eyes filled with tears.

"It breaks my heart to part with you, Bee," he
answered, rather chokily ; "but when the war is
over—"

"Ah, the war !" I exclaimed wildly, "I had for-
gotten ; and, John, you may be killed, and I far,
far away from you."

"Nay now, don't think such thoughts," he said,
comforting me, though I knew his heart was as
sore as mine. "Remember, I have the half of a
lucky sixpence about my neck, and that will pro-
tect me !"

"And you will always wear it?" I questioned
anxiously.

"Always," he answered simply, and no vow
could have been more binding, as I well knew.

"Can't you leave the war and come to England
with me?" I urged. "Sure you have done
enough."

"Bee ! Bee !" he cried, "you would not ask me
to desert the cause?"

"No, no," I sobbed, "I would not have you a
coward an I could, but oh, John ! if aught hap-
pens to you—"

"Nay, do ndt torture yourself with such
thoughts," he answered. "Good-by, and God keep
you !" and, with that, he kissed me and was gone.
As for me, I fled to my cabin, and we were well
out of the Delaware before my sobbing ceased.

To me the voyage seemed long and most mo-
notonous, though Captain Timmons said we made
a fine trip of it. He was an old friend, and
scarcely a day passed that I did not look up from
my sewing to find him shaking his head and
mumbling to himself that, when he had brought

I9I3-]

BEATRICE OF DENEVVOOD

51S

me to America, he had little thought to take me
away again ; and I would assure him that 't was
not of my own free will that I was aboard his
ship. Whereat he would give a hearty laugh, and
vow a privateer was not so very different from a
pirate such as once, in my ignorance, I had called
him.

But, as the days passed, and the sting of the
parting became less acute, I began to think of
those to whom I was going. Granny I knew
would be the same; but four years is a long time
in the life of a child, and I wondered would Hal
and Horrie have changed greatly. They had
been careless, fun-loving boys, and I a hoiden ;
but as I looked back, it seemed that the years had
brought so many changes, that I could scarce be-
lieve myself the same child. So I was by no
means sure in my mind what they would be like,
and was somewhat curious about it, wishing the
Alert would hurry a little.

Thus the days passed, and, one morning, I
awoke to find the boat riding on the smooth wa-
ters of the river Loire. Soon we passed the town
of Saint-Nazaire, dropping anchor at last at
Nantes.

We counted on the French having cleared the
Channel of the English ships, and when we came
to anchor, Captain Timmons put on his best
clothes and went ashore, while I was forced to
stay content on the deck of the Alert, watching
the various craft and the strange people who
manned them, and thinking how glad and gay I
would be if we had dropped anchor in the Dela-
ware instead.

About tea-time the captain came back.

' 'T was not so easy a task as I had thought
to find it," he announced at once. "It seems that
England is too strong to be conquered on the sea,
as they expected here, and commerce between
the two countries is as dead as a herring. But
there are still some honest smugglers at work,
and I have arranged that you are to go with one
of them. Till he sails you must e'en be content."

Truth to tell, I liked not this plan at all, but I
had been put in Captain Timmons's hands, and
felt sure it was the best he could do.

It was some days before the smuggler's craft
was ready, and once or twice Clarinda and I were
allowed to go on shore, where the black girl
thought that all who did not understand her
English must surely be deaf, and shouted herself
hoarse in her effort to make them hear.

At length the day came when the French smug-
gler was to start, and all my effects were put
aboard a small hooker named the Claire de la
Lime. She seemed safe enough, and, as a matter
of fact, I was made entirely comfortable.

Just as we were leaving the Alert, Captain
Timmons took me to one side;

"I have two presents for you, Mistress Bea-
trice," he began. "They were left in my charge
by Mr. Travers, to be handed over when we
parted."

One of the parcels was a purse containing a
large sum of money, and the other was a small,
leather-covered case. I opened it hastily, and
found a locket of gold; inside this was a minia-
ture of John, and a slip of paper upon which was
written: "This, so you will not forget one who
is ever thinking of you."

I gave a cry of joy. It was as if I heard John
speak to me.

" 'T is like him, is it not?" asked the captain,
who was looking at the picture over my shoulder.
"He had it done by Mr. Peale, the same that
painted the portrait of His Excellency, General
Washington. A bit flattered, I should say, but
't will do well enough."

" 'T is not at all flattered !" I retorted indig-
nantly, and then I caught the twinkle in the cap-
tain's eye, and saw that he was teasing me.

"Do not be too free with your money, lass," he
said to me at parting. " 'T is an honest smug-
gler you go with, but 't is safer in these foreign
countries not to put temptation in the way of
any one. Hide your gold and your locket where
they will not be easily found. Your route will be
by post from Rye, in the east of Sussex, where
you are to land, to Frobisham, in Kent. 'T will
take a long day, and, though there are highway-
men about, those gentry ply their trade at night.
Nevertheless, hide your money, and — oh, yes, Mr.
Travers bade me tell you he would send more
from time to time."

"You have all my thanks for your kindness,
Captain Timmons," I murmured, holding out my
hand.

"Nay, Mistress Beatrice," he said, "I have
done naught. But do not let us part until I have
been told when I am to come for you again."

At that I burst into tears, for, in saying fare-
well, I seemed to be severing the last tie holding
me to the country of my adoption, and my heart
was heavy.

"I would that I knew when I might return," I
sobbed ; "but one thing you may promise an you
will."

"Say on and 't is done," he answered heartily.

"That you will come for me if aught happens
to Brother John," I went on. "Wait not to see
how he fares. Even a little hurt might prove
serious, and 't will take long to reach him," and
at the thought my tears began to fall afresh.

"To be sure I '11 promise!" said the captain,

516

BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD

hastily, and I think he would have undertaken
anything if it would stay my tears.

And so I parted with the good captain in better
spirits than I would have thought possible ; for it
seemed that I had made him a link between John
and myself.

We were most civilly treated aboard the Claire
de la Lunc ; but their bearded faces and tasseled
caps gave the French captain and his men a
most sinister look to my unaccustomed eyes.
The boat was not particularly clean, but the
food and wine were most excellent ; indeed,
vastly superior to that with which we had been
satisfied upon the Alert.

We were destined, because of contrary winds,
to spend a longer time on the "Claire," as the
men called her, than I had thought would be
needful, and it was near a week before we
sighted a shore, early one evening, which the cap-
tain told me was "Angleterre."

But even then we could not go direct, for there
were suspicious-looking sails about, and the cap-
tain drove past Rye Bay as if it were nothing to
us.

When night had fallen, we crept back slowly
again, only to find a ship riding at anchor in the
bay.

After a hurried consultation with his son, who
acted as mate, the captain explained, most po-
litely and with many shrugs and expressions of
regret, that he dared not run the risk of seizure.
The English were more than usually watchful,
and he and his son had come to the conclusion
that it was best to put about and await a more
favorable opportunity.

"And what is to be done with me ?" I de-
manded, to which he replied that the same ques-
tion had bothered him more than he could well
express.

I protested that' I did not wish to go back to
France, and that, as I was not contraband and
did not fear seizure, I saw no reason why they
could not set Clarinda and me ashore with our
boxes, without any great risk to themselves.

The captain promised to take the matter under
advisement, and, at length, it was agreed that an
attempt should be made to land us on the beach
that very night.

"But why not during the day?" I protested, not
liking the thought of being landed in a strange
country in the darkness.

" 'T is impossible !" he answered, and though

I knew not why it should be so, 't was clear they
would not consider my wishes on this point.

I was far from liking the prospect, but I
wanted mightily to be on shore, and so consented
with as good a grace as I could.

It was a moonless night, though fairly clear,
and Clarinda and I were put in a small boat after
the Claire had been brought to, a mile or so off-
shore. Every move was made with extreme
quietness, and the men spoke in whispers, giving
the impression that we were upon some desperate
venture, which I could not help thinking very
absurd and French. I bade farewell to the cap-
tain, thanking him for his care of me, and, a few
moments later, we were rowing silently away
from the hooker.

Nothing appeared to stay our progress, and,
at length, a line of white wave breaking gently
upon the shore showed over our bow, and a few
moments later we grounded softly.

The Frenchmen made short work of relieving
themselves of their passengers, and, in scarce
more time than it takes to tell, we were standing
on the soft sand in the midst of our boxes, un-
able to see ten yards in any direction, alone on a
strange beach where not a light showed nor any
sound came to us.

"Save us, Miss Bee, but I d'clare dis certainly
am lonesome. I don't think tha 's a soul livin' in
dis land," said Clarinda; but scarcely had she
whispered the words than the harsh voice of a
man smote our ears.

"Halt! Stand where you are!"

The command came from a point on my right.

" 'T will be a pleasure to shoot you, an you
come in my direction," cried some one behind me.

"Or in mine !" shouted another.

"Or in mine !" cried a third, and, in a moment,
other voices took up the words, till it sounded as
if a regiment was surrounding us.

Clarinda, with a faint wail of fear, dropped
at my feet, and I, scarce less alarmed, stood
rigid, awaiting — I knew not what.

'T was as if we were hemmed in by ghosts, so
noiseless had been the approach of those who
spoke, though that we heard no footfall was
doubtless due to the muffling sand. And now in
the silence I seemed to feel our enemies closing
in on us.

Suddenly the slide of a dark lantern was with-
drawn, and jn its light a circle of hostile faces
confronted us.

(To be continued.)

PENNYBRIGHT'S CIRCUS

BY THOMAS H. ROGERS

For a few minutes only, she admired the gor-
geous pictures, then, turning, hobbled away as
fast as she could go. It was too great a treat to
be enjoyed alone.

"Oh, Chorus !" she called out excitedly, as she
caught sight of a girl about her own size; "come
on, quick, you and everybody, and see what I
have found ! Great, big, circus pictures ! Over
by the station !"

Rapidly the news spread, and when Penny-
bright, handicapped by her crutches, again
reached the bill-board, she found an excited lot
of children, shouting, laughing, and all talking
at once. "This is my circus," she asserted, as
she joined the group. "Finders, keepers," she
added, applying the generally recognized law.

"Aw ! what you givin' us? Finders ain't keep-
ers on'y when you find things you c'n pick up
off'n the ground !" protested one, scornfully ;
then, turning to the others, asked, "Is it?"

"No !" and "Course not !" was the general re-
sponse. Nothing daunted, she replied: "Well,
even if I can't carry the pictures off, they 're
mine anyway." Which met with derisive shouts
and "No, they ain't!", "I guess not!" "Not
much !"

"I found 'em first."

"That don't give you any real right," said one.

"Yes, it does," persisted Pennybright, "hist'ry
says so." This proved a very startling argument.
Each tried in vain to recall any reference to cir-
cus posters in the school-books, but before they
could think of a satisfactory reply, she continued :
"Columbus, and all the other explorers, claimed
what they discovered, even if they could n't carry
it away; and this is just the same. It is my cir-
cus, 'cause I discovered it first."

They were unable to think of any convincing
arguments against this emphatic one. After a
moment of silence they admitted defeat by drop-
ping the subject of ownership, and with great
gusto and much loud talk, they fell to discussing
the various scenes depicted.

Endowed with a more imaginative mind, Pen-
nybright was the recognized leader of the neigh-
borhood children. Fairy stories were her partic-
ular delight, and she could think of more new
and interesting make-believe things to do and
play than all the others put together.

"That 's the royal family — all those people rid-
ing on the horses," and she indicated with one
little crutch a group of jaunty horsemen and wo-

men. "The king is up front there in the gold
wagon."

"It ain't real gold in the real perade," a small
boy suggested.

"Yes it is, solid gold and precious jewels !"
The little girl emphasized each adjective more
strongly by bobbing her sunny head as she pro-
nounced it. It was her hair, shining like a new
copper penny, and her bright, animated face that
had won for her the appellation "Pennybright."
"Kings don't think anything much of riding in
gold carriages!" she continued; "they 're used to
'em. There 's a mermaid in that wagon," point-
ing. "See the picture on the side."

"Huh ! I bet it 's empty. I 'd rather see the
performin' elephants. I choose the elephants for
mine !"

"The white horse with pink eyes for mine !"
another called, quickly.

"I choose that band and the ponies !" some one
else shouted.

"Oh, I want a pony!" wailed a tiny boy; "I
want a pony !"

Pennybright cast a withering glance at the pony
monopolist. "Shame on you, Jim ! you 're a reg-
'lar piggywig ! Come, now, you give the baby
one of your ponies. Never mind, honey, you can
have that little spotted one in front. He 's all
yours, forever and forever, so don't cry. Here,
let me wipe your eyes," which she proceeded to
do with a corner of her somewhat shabby, but
otherwise presentable, dress skirt.

She was really unselfish. Her childlike claim
to ownership established, she generously per-
mitted the others to choose various features of
the display for their own, cutting down extrava-
gant claims here, and allowing more elsewhere,
in an effort to impartially distribute the numerous
glories of the gaudy show. "Sure, there 's
enough to go round, and no use quarrelin'," she
admonished them.

Day after day found her in front of "Penny-
bright's Circus," as it had come to be known.
One day Chorus joined her.

"Are you goin' to the real circus, Pennybright ?"

"We-e-1-1, I 'm not sure, Chorus," slowly and
wistfully. It was a question she had hardly dared
to ask herself, the numerous chances against such
a great extravagance looming behind it too grim,
as yet, to be faced. "You see, I have n't asked
Mother yet."

"When you goin' to ask her ? She 's been very

PKNNYBRIGHT'S CIRCUS

519

'mournful' lately?" "Mournful" was a term in-
vented by a charitably inclined neighbor in re-
ferring to Mrs. O'Neil's spells of sulky melan-
choly.

"She 's been sighin' a good deal. I have n't
even told her how much more my knee hurts,
'cause that always makes her feel worse. She
can't help gettin' discouraged sometimes."

"Teacher 's goin' to take our class to the show
Saturday, when it comes," said Chorus; "I '11 ask
her to take you too. Do you s'pose you can go ?"

"I '11 ask Mother right now!" cried Penny-
bright, dazzled by the prospect.

To her mother, who, for economical reasons,
was unsympathetic on the subject, she had not
ventured, after a first vain attempt, to mention
the circus, and it was an effort to do so now,
when she felt sure her request would be denied.

Mrs. O'Neil was ironing when Pennybright
hobbled into the kitchen that also served as liv-
ing-room, dining-room, and laundry. Penny-
bright stood staring out of the window for a
while, uncertain how to begin. At last, "Where
have you been?" from her mother, offered an
opening.

"Over by the circus poster. Have you ever
been to a circus, Mother?"

"Yes."

"Some of the children are goin'. Chorus and
— and — most of her class. Some will go to the
perade and circus both, and some only to the
perade. It takes only ten cents for street car to
see the perade, and twenty-five cents for the cir-
cus." To Pennybright's surprise, there was no
outburst, and a flicker of hope stirred within her
breast. Mrs. O'Neil merely said: "Children with
fathers to support 'em can afford it."

"Then I can't go," said the disappointed child,
a sob in her voice.

"Pennybright O'Neil ! do you want to break
your mother's heart, asking for things she can't
give you? What with rent, coal bills, and the
doctor, there 's no use talking about circuses. I
can't do more, nor be any more saving than—"

But without waiting to hear more, and choking
back her disappointment, Pennybright hobbled
out. "I can't go," she told Chorus. Suddenly
her face brightened. "Oh, Chorus ! if I save
every cent I get, mebby I '11 have enough to go
and see the perade !"

Notwithstanding the meagerness of her means,
Mrs. O'Neil occasionally gave Pennybright a
cent to spend, so that the child was able to accu-
mulate the necessary carfare long before circus
day, with but little difficulty beyond that of mus-
tering sufficient fortitude, by looking hard at her
circus poster, to resist the blandishments of

chocolate mice and "a!l-day-suckers, two for a
cent" at "Ol' Miss Simpson's Little Shop," to
which she now became a total stranger.

But on the very day when she proudly added
the tenth penny to her savings, came the doctor
in his automobile. After examining her knee, he
said : "She must go to the hospital immediately
for proper treatment." He reconciled Mrs.
O'Neil by adding, "No special preparation is nec-
essary. Proper clothing will be furnished her.
There will be no expense to you, Mrs. O'Neil, as
she will have one of the free beds."

"I 'm goin' to the city," she proudly exclaimed
to the curious children who clustered round as
she gaily clambered in for her first automobile
ride. "Take care of my circus, Chorus. Good-by,
everybody ; good-by, Mother ; don't cry, I '11 come
back soon, all well again." She waved cheerfully
to Mrs. O'Neil, who stood by the gate, dabbing
at her eyes with a corner of her apron.

During the ride, Pennybright amused the doc-
tor with chatter about her circus. She saw other
show-bills, one much larger than hers, with dif-
ferent pictures. The automobile, however,
whizzed by so fast that she had time only for
a momentary glimpse, and they were gone. And
then, all at once, they turned a corner, the ma-
chine stopped, and the doctor said: "Here we
are !" and, sure enough, there they were in front
of the hospital, a big, brick building with many
balconies and large windows. There were chil-
dren in wheel-chairs and cots on the balconies,
and close to the open windows in the sunshine and
pleasant air.

One of the nurses, Miss Gray, was instructed
to put Pennybright to bed.

"You have come to make me a long visit, have
n't you?" the nurse inquired.

"Until Saturday of circus week," was the an-
swer. "Then I 'm goin' to the perade," and she
displayed her savings tied in a corner of her
handkerchief, and explained about Chorus and
her class, with whom she expected to go.

"Don't you think it would be nicer to stay here
with all these other little girls until you are well,
and then go to the real circus itself, next year,
instead?"

Pennybright sat up in bed. "Can't I go this
year?" she demanded, in a startled tone.

"I 'm afraid not, dear, unless your knee gets
well more quickly than the doctor thinks it will."

The child sat very still, staring this new situ-
ation square in the face. There was one last
hope. "Does the perade pass here?"

Miss Gray shook her head regretfully. "We
are too far out."

"I can't see the perade !" whispered Penny-

520

PENNYBRIGHTS CIRCUS

[April,

bright. Then, remembering all her planning, self-
denial, and saving, there came a lump in her
throat, a catch in her breath, her lip trembled
and trembled, until, at last, shaking with sobs, she
buried her face in her pillow.

Miss Gray tried to comfort her. "Such a brave,
little girl as you are surely won't cry over this.
Why, you never complained about your knee !"

" 'T is n't the same," sobbed Pennybright. "I
d-don't th-th-think about m-my knee, b-b-but I 'm
always thinking about the p-p-perade."

Next morning, the friendly advances of the
other little patients distracted her attention some-
what from herself. With her active, imaginative
mind, Pennybright was a born story-teller. Her
first shyness soon wore off, and before she knew
it, she was weaving fanciful tales about fairies,
hobgoblins, and other strange folk, and the peo-
ple and animals of her beloved circus posters at
home. She also told how she had saved her pennies
so she could see the parade. "And now the doctor
says I must stay here in bed, and miss it all."
Sobs choked further utterance, whereat there was
a chorus of sympathy from the surrounding cots
that, to some extent, tended to assuage her grief.

For more than a week, the little girl bore un-
complainingly the pain and discomfort occa-
sioned by the rather severe treatment her knee
had to undergo, thinking by that means to hasten
the cure. "Mebby I '11 get well enough yet !" she
fondly hoped.

At last came Monday of circus week. In at the
open windows came the bright, warm sunshine,
the balmy, spring air, and many sounds of out-
door life — the chirping of the saucy little spar-
rows, the noise of passing vehicles and electric
cars, the calls of push-cart men, the rumble and
distant roar of the great city. Occasionally,
there drifted in faint snatches of music played by
the circus bands in the parade. The ward was
unusually quiet, all the children trying to hear
the music. Sometimes, in spite of her efforts,
tears would persist in filling poor Pennybright's
eyes. Tuesday came, and Wednesday. The doc-
tor gave her no hope, but, nevertheless, she did
not despair. Something might happen yet so
that she could go. Thursday, she had no heart
for stories, although, in response to insistent re-
quests, she made a brave effort to comply. They
were not a success. Late in the afternoon, she
abandoned hope. For a long time, the sorely
disappointed child cried and sobbed, refusing to
be comforted. But, by and by, a new idea intro-
duced itself. All about her were other children
who would also like to see the parade, and they
were not crying. Why, then, should she ? "I 'm
as brave as they. I '11 show 'em !" she thought.

"Miss Gray," she called, "please wash my face;
I '11 be real good now, and not cry any more."
Nor did she. Having made up her mind to it,
she felt better.

Next day, she was brisk and gayer. In the very
midst of a most absorbing tale, however, another
new idea popped into her busy little head. Stop-
ping abruptly, she called: "Miss Gray, I want to
write a letter." But such a chorus of protests
arose, "Go on, Pennybright !" "Oh, don't stop
there!" "What happened next?" "Tell us the
rest !" that, finally, she resumed the story, but
brought it to an end as soon as possible with,
"And they lived happily ever after," in approved
fairy-tale fashion. All the coaxing to postpone
the letter was in vain. As Miss Gray gave her
pencil, paper, and envelop, she was met by the
inquiry:

"And will you send the letter?"

"Of course I will," answered the nurse, glad
to have her winsome little patient so much im-
proved in spirits.

Now, while Pennybright could read without
much difficulty, and tell stories, her spelling, like
that of many other children, was inclined to be
"fonetical." Oral composition flowed from her
mouth like a reproduced phonograph record, but
the medium of communication between her brain
and the pencil in her hand appeared to be defec-
tive. Written composition was a difficult task,
and, with the exception of one sent to her mother
a few days previously, she had never before tried
to write a real letter. To do this, therefore, oc-
cupied the little girl all of Friday afternoon, and
when finished, could not have been correctly
called a model of neatness, because of the many
erasures and smudges ; nor were the grammar
and punctuation faultless.

The heavy sound of many immense wagons,
drawn by magnificent matched teams of four or
six horses, distributing huge loads of canvas,
lumber, ropes, and gigantic poles, rumbled 'out
upon the morning air, accompanied by the rapid,
staccato rat-tat-tat-tat of heavy sledges wielded
by gangs of brawny men, driving the long guy-
rope stakes, and the clicking sound from the pul-
ley-blocks through which the ropes run as the
immense canvas roofs are hoisted into place.

Scores of men everywhere, but no confusion.
With practically no tools except the heavy
sledges, the tent city, large enough to shelter
thousands of people, springs into existence almost
like magic.

Beside the main show, menagerie, and side-
shows, there are tent stables with canvas man-
gers for the horses, and a completely equipped

I9I3-]

PENNYBRIGHT'S CIRCUS

521

blacksmith shop with forges and anvils, for the
many wagons must be kept in repair, and scores
of horses must be kept shod. In kitchen tents,

So it happened one Saturday morning, in a cer-
tain month of May, the manager, having finished
his breakfast, sat at the end of one long table,

'THEN I CANT GO, SAID THE DISAPPOINTED CHILD, A SOB IN HER VOICE.

competent cooks prepare excellent meals for hun-
dreds of the show people, by means of huge
ovens and cooking-ranges, mounted on wheels
like wagons. Bushels of vegetables, immense
quantities of cereals, and hundreds of pounds of
meat are cooked, and gallons and gallons of cof-
fee made and served at long tables. The food is
as good as the market affords ; even the manager,
at times, finds it most convenient to eat in the
dining-tent. Usually he knows most of his em-
ployees, and is often on intimate and friendly
terms with many, especially with the older ones.
Vol. XL.— 66

opening his morning's mail and dictating replies
to a stenographer who sat beside him. Occa-
sionally, he addressed some of the other people
at the tables, many of whom were also reading
letters and newspapers.

Presently the manager's voice remained silent
longer than usual. He no longer joked nor made
running comment. This attracted the attention of
some, and, looking curiously toward him, they
noticed a peculiar, absorbed expression on his
face, and an open letter in his hand. He lifted
it up, and read it again. A man sitting near him,

522

PENNYBRIGHT'S CIRCUS

[April,

who had known him from boyhood, broke the
silence.

"Hope you have n't heard bad news, Jim."

"Bad news?" The manager looked up with a
start. "Not a bit of it. Boys," he continued fa-
miliarly, "I 've been up against all kinds of let-
ters during my circus life, requests, demands,
threats, but never one quite like this, and I 'm
going to put it up to you. Just listen to this,
will you?

"Dear Circus," he began. A derisive laugh
some distance down the table. He stopped
abruptly. "See here," he growled, "whoever that
was, before passing opinion on this letter in any
manner, just wait until I get to the end. Then,
if you have anything to say, say it."

In perfect silence he began again :

"Dear Circus:

" Mother says childern with no father to suport them
cant go to the circus. I am only a litle girl but I got io
cents street car fair saved to come and see your perade and
no candy for a long time. My nee is bad agen but cryin
never helps even with a krutch. So I am at the childerns
hospittel. I thout mebby you wood like to no how verry
mutch I wanted to see the for sure perade that I saw on
the big bored fence and the elefants and gold charriot and
everthin but the hospittel is so far off that we can only hear
the teenyest litle bit of the band in the perade. Ide rather
see it than ennythin in the world. Mebby I can nex yere
so goodby for the present with mutch politeness

Pennybright O'Neil.

" My real name is Annie butpeeple call me Pennybright
cause my hair is red and shines."

For a few moments, not a sound came from all
those people around the tables. Some had fami-
lies of their own. Rough their outward appear-
ance might be, but workaday clothes covered
many a warm heart. Even young fellows in their
'teens felt the appeal of weak, helpless childhood.
The manager spoke again.

"Now, that 's the real stuff! She means just
what she says, and she don't expect anything.
That 's my opinion; what do you think?"

And then a little German, the director of the
band and a general favorite, jumped to his feet,
and, in a suspiciously husky voice, said :

"Mister Ring, you know mine leedle boy Nick
mit de lame leg. Vor his sake I vould like, vit so
many of de bandt as vill kommen undt go bei de
schildren's hospital after de parade undt blay for
de leedle sick kinder, — vat you call dem? Ach !
yah, de leedle kiddies."

And immediately arose a great clatter from the
hammering of knives, forks, spoons, and dishes,
and clapping of hands, and cries of "Great !"
"Just the thing !" etc.

"Good for you, Louis !" and Mr. Manager stood
up to reach and shake the little German's hand
heartily. "How many of you band boys will

go too ?" he inquired, turning to them ; and every
bandman there shouted, "I !"

"Carried unanimously," said "the boss."

"Look here, Jim," spoke up a solemn-faced in-
dividual, who, notwithstanding his serious coun-
tenance, was a famous clown. "I, too, have a
little lame kiddie at home, and I want to be in
on this. I '11 go along with the band, and do a
turn or two, and I am sure my trick mule and
my clown dogs would say, 'Me, too,' if they
could."

"Sure ! that '11 be great !" assented Jim Ring.
And then he was showered with requests from
animal trainers, the little lady who wore the
fluffy dresses and rode on the beautiful horses,
and many other performers, all clamoring for a
place on the impromptu program.

"Well, well, well !" exclaimed the manager,
"this is an embarrassment of riches, sure ! but
everybody can't go ! There won't be time be-
tween the parade and the afternoon performance.
Only some of the simple and easily arranged
acts will do. But, hold on, everybody ! We 're
going at this wrong end to, the cart before the
horse. I '11 find out first if it will be all right to
turn ourselves loose in front of the hospital.

"All right, boys," he said, as he came back
from the nearest telephone. "I told the hospital
people to have the kiddies ready about eleven-
thirty."

As the appointed time approached, on 'all the
balconies and at all the windows on the street
side of the hospital, the delighted little inmates
who were well enough were arranged as com-
fortably as possible by the nurses and attendants.

Pennybright's letter was intended solely as a
polite expression of regret that she could not be
present and view the parade. She had no selfish
motive in writing it, nor did she realize that to
it was due the coming unexpected treat. In fact,
joy and excitement drove every remembrance of
the letter from her mind. If Miss Gray had a
suspicion, she wisely refrained from mention-
ing it.

Pennybright, radiantly happy, chattered like a
magpie, but all the time the thought danced
through her brain over and over again, "Oh ! I 'm
going to see the perade ! I 'm going to see the
perade!" and that was all anybody expected, be-
cause Manager Ring had only said that, if agree-
able, the parade would come past the hospital for
the children's benefit.

Passers-by stopped to watch the children and
to listen to their chatter. "Just like so many
sparrows," one said. But when, with a great
blare of music, around the corner at the other
end of the block, came the gaily caparisoned

I9'3-]

PENNYBRIGHT'S CIRCUS

523

band-wagon horses, with plumes on their heads
and covered from head to feet with draperies
spangled all over, the sparrow-like chatter died
away, at first to only a few twitterings, to re-
commence with augmented force as the proces-
sion approached. Professor Louis' band in the

geously dressed women waved gay scarfs at the
children. Then a band of gaily dressed men and
women— the "Royal Family" of the poster— on
horses that pranced and danced under their glit-
tering trappings. There were many other things,
and, finally, all the clowns in little carts, no two

- John Edwiv JACKSON —

'A LETTER FOR MISS PENNYBRIGHT O'NEIL.'" (SEE PAGE 524.)

gold chariot ("It is gold, every bit," thought Pen-
nybright, remembering her contention in front of
the bill-board at home) played bravely, and en-
joyed the evident delight of their appreciative
audience. Next came a drove of elephants, also
covered with gay trappings, some with little, box-
like saddles on their backs, from which gor-

alike, some drawn by ponies, some by donkeys,
and some by dogs. To everybody's surprise,
when the band-wagon reached the front entrance
of the hospital building, it stopped, and in a ring
hastily formed by the riders and other people in
the parade, right out in the middle of the street
began a performance on which pale, eager faces

524

PENNYBRIGHTS CIRCUS

smiled radiantly down, and dozens of little hands,
some so frail and thin, waved in welcome and
clapped, and little voices shouted and laughed for
joy and wonder.

A big elephant without trappings, at his mas-
ter's command, stood on his head with his hind
legs up in the air, and did a lot of other queer
and wonderful things. Other acts were going on
at the same time — acrobats, tumblers, Japanese
pole balancers. There was something to please
everybody all the time. The clowns sang their
funniest songs, cracked their funniest jokes, and
enjoyed it as much as the children, playing tricks
on one another, and making their donkeys and
ponies and dogs do almost everything but talk.
The little lady in a pink dress rode her beautiful
white horse, and threw kisses to the happy chil-
dren as she jumped through the paper hoops held
by the clowns, while the ringmaster gaily cracked
his long whip. And through it all, Professor
Louis and his band played their finest music.

At the very last, a clown made his way up
through the crowd on the front steps, and dis-
appeared inside the building. A "Here we are !"
at the door of the room, caused Pennybright and
the enthusiastic throng about her to turn, and
there stood the clown, with a broad grin on his
comically painted face. Turning a handspring,
he landed on his feet near the children. His

quick eye had caught the sheen o» the coppery
red hair, and with a low bow to the bewildered
child, he said: "A letter for Miss Pennybright
O'Neil." With his funny peaked hat in his hand,
again he bowed low to all of them, turned a back-
ward somersault, and was gone. The band struck
up a lively march, the procession again formed,
and, with everybody cheering, shouting, and wav-
ing in final adieu, it was soon out of sight ; but
that wonderful, unexpected performance served
as a topic of conversation for many, many days,
and until long after Pennybright's knee was well
again, so that she could throw away her crutches.
Oh, yes, the letter ! It contained only a card.
At the top was printed :

RING BROTHERS' CIRCUS

and below it was written :

Admit Pennybright O'Neil, and one, whenever presented.
With the compliments of the manager,

Jas. King.
Good during her lifetime.

When she understood that, so long as she lived,
she could go to see Ring Brothers' real circus,
and take any one else that she wanted to, her cup
of happiness was completely filled. "It 's just
like having a real circus of my own, instead of
nothing but pictures on a bill-board," she said.

a "honk! honk!" chorus.

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT

Author of "Careers of Danger and Daring," "Through the Wall," "The Battle," etc.

Chapter XV

AT THE SANCTUARY

After eating a hearty luncheon in the hotel din-
ing-room (the basket of food had been left in
the quarries for Telecjian), the boys decided that
it would be well for them to rest in their rooms
for a couple of hours before braving the Greek
monk.

"Try to get a little sleep, old fellow," said
Jack, sympathetically, as he noticed Harold's pale
face. "It will make a lot of difference."

"All right. I '11 meet you at four o'clock — in
the courtyard," answered Sandy.

But Sandy did not feel like sleeping. He was
troubled in his mind, full of fears and somber
fancies. How would this struggle end ? What
chance had two boys in a strange, far-off land
with enemies all about them? Suppose they were
attacked again ! Suppose they fell ill ! Suppose
— suppose —

From these gloomy imaginings the boy tried
vainly to rouse himself. What was the matter
with him? He was sad and lonely, and— and
yet he did not want to see Jack. It seemed as
if he was getting too much of Jack.

"I 'm in one of my cranky fits," muttered
Sandy. "I '11 get up and— do something."

He looked out of his window over the spread
of blue and white domes that fill the Armenian
quarter of Jerusalem, and, as he blinked in the
sun's burning glare, he remembered his purpose
of buying one of those cool, white linen pugrees
that the tourists wear flapping down from their
cork helmets, to protect themselves against the
heat. There Was a shop in Christian Street where
he could order one of these, and — yes, he would
order two, one for Jack.

This pugree transaction occupied Harold only
a few minutes, and left him an hour and a half
before four o'clock. What should he do? As he
glanced down Christian Street with its noisy
swarm, his eyes fell upon the square, stumpy
tower of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.
And, straightway, there came into the boy's mind
his father's message — "You must go to Jerusa-
lem and find the Greek monk, Basil, who has a
carpenter shop in the tower of the Church of the
Holy Scpidcher, and ask him to — "

Ask him to — what? The time had come to
solve this mystery. Here was the tower of the

Church of the Holy Sepulcher. He had waited
all these days on account of Telecjian, but there
was no reason to wait any longer. Telecjian
could make no more trouble. Perhaps the monk
was in the tower now. He might ask for him —
there was no harm in asking, and — anyway he
could make an appointment.

With strange feelings, Harold drew near the
sacred building. A flight of narrow steps led him
down to a stone-paved courtyard swarming with
beggars, and peddlers, and Russian pilgrims —
sad-eyed women with shawls over their heads,
and big-bearded men, counting their beads with
looks of devotion as they moved toward two
heavy wooden doors where a white-turbaned
Moslem in long, purple garment stood indiffer-
ently on guard.

Harold pressed forward with the throng, and
was surprised, as he entered the edifice, to come
upon a group of Turks squatting on a divan at
the left, lazily smoking their chibouks, without
paying the slightest attention to the crowd of
entering Christians, except, now and then, to
cast looks of scorn or derision at them.

Presently, Harold found himself face to face
with a man of cheery countenance, whose smile
was so kindly that the boy was prompted to speak
to him.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he hesitated; and
then he blushed in embarrassment, for, observing
the man's apparel, he discovered that he had ad-
dressed a member of some priestly order. There
was the long, girdled garment of coarse, brown
cloth, and the heavy sandals with bare feet in-
side.

"What can I do for you, my young friend?"
replied the other. "I am Brother Nicodemus, one
of the Franciscans."

"Oh, thank you," murmured Harold. "I 'm
an American — er — I wanted to ask— er — "

He stopped awkwardly, not knowing what to
say.

"Is this your first visit here?" inquired Brother
Nicodemus.

"Yes, and — er — I suppose you know all about
the Holy Sepulcher !"

The Franciscan smiled.

"I ought to. I have been here for three years."

"You mean here in Jerusalem?"

"I mean here in this church. I live here. Ah,
no wonder you look surprised ! This is a strange

5=5

526

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[April,

building, with all sorts of wings, and garrets, and
queer corners. Up-stairs there are living-rooms,
a dozen beds— more than a dozen. Besides that,
scores of pilgrims sleep on the stone floors every
night. They are locked in."

"Why is that? Why are they locked in?"
"Because the Turks will have it so. You know
the Turks own everything here. See that tall
fellow in purple near the door? He is the guar-
dian. He locks those big doors after sunset,
and then nobody can go out or get in until he

"'I TAKE CARE OF THE OLD OLIVE-TREES.

unlocks them in the morning. If he feels like it,
he passes in food for the pilgrims. See those
round holes in the door? That 's what they are
for."

"I never heard of such a thing !" exclaimed
Harold.

"Doubtless there is much you have never heard
of if this is your first visit. I don't suppose you
know that Adam is buried here ?"

"Adam?" stared the boy. "You mean — Adam
and Eve ?"

Nicodemus nodded good-humoredly.

"I don't know about Eve, but we are taught to
believe that the father of all men is buried —
over there — to the right of those arches. If you
like, I '11 show you the place."

Young Evans thanked the Franciscan, and was
presently gazing at this most venerable tomb.
Then Nicodemus showed him other extraordi-

nary things, a stone that is Said to mark the
exact center of the universe, and many startlingly
intimate scenes of the Bible story.

Harold looked and listened in amazement.

"How can they know the very spot where all
these things happened?" he marveled.

"That 's a hard question," smiled the Francis-
can. "I don't think I '11 try to answer it. The
fact is, I must ask you to excuse me now. I
have my duties at the Garden of Gethsemane.
I take care of the flowers there, and of the old
olive-trees. Stop and see me some day. I will
show you Methuselah."

"Thank you," said Harold, puzzled by this
ancient name. "I suppose Methuselah is — er— "

"Methuselah is my pet cat," laughed Nicode-
mus. "He 's a fine, big Angora. Well, good-by."

"Good-by, sir. You 've been very kind." Then,
remembering what he had forgotten for the mo-
ment, "By the way. did you— did you ever hear
of a Greek monk named Basil?"

The Franciscan's face hardened, and he eyed
the young American in sudden suspicion.

"Basil? Yes, I 've heard of him — very often."

"He has a carpenter shop in the tower, has n't
he?"

"Yes, but he never works there now. He has
a relic factory in Bethlehem that pays him bet-
ter." Nicodemus spoke scornfully. "Why do
you ask about Basil ?"

"Because I — I want to see him/' said Harold.

"Oh ! You '11 have to go to Bethlehem for
that. Of course it 's not my affair, but I warn
you to be very careful if you have any dealings
with that man."

At this moment, the swell of an organ caught
their ears, and the sound of distant chanting.

"It 's the Russian pilgrims — there — up those
steps — on Mount Calvary."

Harold stared at his guide. "Is that Mount
Calvary?" he asked.

"Yes," said Nicodemus, and, with another
good-by, he hurried away, leaving Harold thor-
oughly perplexed.

Now, in spite of the throng, the boy felt again
that depressing sense of loneliness and helpless-
ness. If there was only some one to advise him,
some one wise and kind to whom he might tell his
troubles. He followed along absently in the crush
of worshipers, past rows of huge, painted can-
dles higher than a man's head that rise in golden
candlesticks at the entrance to the Holy Sepul-
cher. And, in his turn, he passed through a low
door, and entered the white marble Chapel of the
Angel, where endless pilgrims bend reverently
over the rock that they believe was rolled away
from the tomb.

I9I3-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

527

Presently he stooped through another small
door, and came into the innermost sanctuary,
where forty-three lamps of silver and gold burn
ceaselessly, and where every stone has been hal-

" ' HE LOCKS THOSE BIG DOUKS AFTER SUNSET.'"

lowed down the centuries by the tears and pray-
ers of countless worshipers.

Harold's face was white as he came out again
into the body of the church. His heart was
swelling with emotion. He felt that he should
do something in keeping with the solemnity of
the place and the seriousness of his own situa-
tion. But he did not know what to do.

The Russians were still chanting — there at the
left. It seemed queer to call that little place
Mount Calvary. Harold had always thought of
Mount Calvary as a great, green hill. How well
he remembered the words of that beautiful hymn,
"There is a green hill far away, without a city
wall." He could almost hear the appealing voice
of the contralto as she used to sing it in the choir,
and now they showed him, as Mount Calvary,
this corner of a church that was certainly inside
the wall.

Slowly the anxious boy climbed the narrow
stone steps that brought him to the pilgrims. He
recalled with misgivings that he had neglected
to say his prayers a good many times lately.
Perhaps that was the trouble. Perhaps he
would get more help if he asked for more.
It was being so much with Jack McGreggor
that had made him neglect these things. Jack
was a boy who never spoke of religion, never
thought of it. probably. All he cared about was

making jokes, and taking pictures, and having a
good time.

Suddenly Harold thought of his appointment
at four o'clock, and looked at his watch. It was
half-past four ! How the time had gone ! He
was just turning to leave the church when a ven-
erable Russian pilgrim, with high cheek-bones and
white, flowing beard, lifted his hand ; whereupon
the chanting ceased, and, with one accord, the
whole band of men and women, their eyes shining
with devotion, knelt down upon the stone floor.
There was a moment's silence, then, in a deep,
rich voice, the leader began to recite the Lord's
Prayer.

Harold knew enough Greek to understand the
words, and they went straight to his aching heart.
He could not resist the power of that kneeling com-
pany. They were queerly dressed people, poor
people, but they were getting the kind of help and
comfort that he needed, and, with a blessed sense
of relief, the boy dropped on his knees, and, with
closed eyes, joined in the great appeal.

Soothed and strengthened, Sandy rose to his
feet. It was all clear to him now — he must have
faith. That was all he needed. He must be sure,
as his mother was sure, that they were guarded
and guided by some higher power, and then
everything would come out right. Of course he
must do his best, too, and— he was sorry he had
had unkind thoughts about Jack.

Suddenly Harold started forward. Why — what
an extraordinary thing ! Then he drew back,
moved cautiously toward the steps, and then
stole quickly out of the church. A most extraor-
dinary thing, indeed ! He had seen Jack McGreg-
gor kneeling among the pilgrims !

Chapter XVI

THE MEETING WITH BASIL

Early the next morning, the boys set out for
Bethlehem in pursuit of the Greek monk. They
expected to be back in Jerusalem that same eve-
ning, but Deeny had quoted a wise Turkish prov-
erb to the effect that the rising sun never knows
what the setting sun will see, and this gave Har-
old the fortunate inspiration of providing Telec-
jian with food and water for three full days.
Which, as it turned out, saved the imprisoned
Syrian from suffering.

In addition to Nasr-ed-Din, the young Amer-
icans were attended on their journey by a highly
decorative dragoman named Amurath Gargulio,
who, with his pearl-handled short sword, his gilt
tassels, and his wide, blue sash, looked like a
comic-opera villain. Amurath provided four
horses and his own services for the immense

528

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[April,

honor of serving two such "vair disteenguish
Amurican gents," so he declared, and then stood
out for three liras (twelve dollars) for the ex-
cursion, but allowed Deeny to bargain him down
to one and a half— after much lively parleying.

:'I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THAT BUILDING.
WITH THE WHITE DOME.'"

It is a beautiful four-mile ride from Jerusalem
to the City of David, and the road is fairly good.
Carriages travel over it. and squeaking bullock
carts, and donkey trains, and camel caravans, be-
sides picturesque peasants and weary pilgrims,

trudging along bravely through the dust and
heat. From all of these the young horsemen, as
they passed, received respectful salutations,
which made them feel like two princes of the
blood. Indeed, they presented quite an imposing
appearance in their helmets
and pugrees, their fresh
linen suits, and their neatly
strapped riding-leggins.

As they passed along,
Amurath pointed out the fa-
mous pools of Solomon, three
great rock reservoirs built
thousands of years ago to
supply water to the holy city ;
also a small white-washed
building by the roadside that
is known as the tomb of
Rachel, and is much rever-
enced ; and various scenes
from the familiar stories of
David and Ruth.

"What a lot of wonderful
things !" marveled McGreg-
gor.

"Here 's the most wonder-
ful of them all!" said Har-
old, a moment later, as they
reached the top of a rise of
ground. "Pull up, Jack, and
look over there. In all the
States, under all the stars
and stripes, we have n't got
anything as wonderful as that
little town ; that's Bethlehem."
On the crest of the hill, the
boys drew rein and looked
down on a picture that an
artist would have loved to
paint, a spread of pleasant
harvest-time colors, yellows
and browns of the ripe grain
fields, greens of the pasture,
and deeper greens of olive
orchards dotting the land-
scape down the gentle valley
and reaching up the purple
hills beyond, — hills that bore
proudly on their shoulders
? the one the snow-white City of David,

now outlined clearly against
the blue of the southern sky.
"So that is Bethlehem !" murmured Jack, and
then fell silent, for what is a boy to say at such
a moment— or a man either, for that matter?

They rode on a little way without speaking,
and presently Nasr-ed-Din came clattering along-

I9I.1-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

529

side on his big gray horse, with an important
piece of news which he communicated eagerly to
Harold, pointing to a low building with a white
dome that rose in the distance across a waste of
stony ground.

"What is it? Wh-what 's he saying?" asked
Jack, tugging at his horse. "Tell me, Sandy."

"Deeny 's been talking with a donkey driver
back there, and — it seems this donkey driver
knows all about Basil, the Greek monk. He says
we 're apt to find Basil over there. See that little
white dome?"

"W-well ?— Whoa, there !"

"It seems there 's something queer about it. I
did n't quite get the idea, only — Hello ! What 's
the matter with you?"

Harold turned sharply to the dragoman, who
was edging up to them on his horse, and listening
with evident uneasiness.

Amurath stammered forth a confused explana-
tion as to why they must be hurrying on to Beth-
lehem.

"Don't you worry, my friend," answered
Harold. "We '11 get to Bethlehem all right, but
— I want to know about that building. See? The
one with the white dome."

The dragoman shot a queer, sidelong glance at
Harold, and, at the same moment, Jack saw him
clutch nervously at an amulet of blue beads that
hung from his horse's bridle.

"It ees nothing, sair," he declared, and then
went on rapidly to say that, if they would ride
ahead a short distance, he would show them a
miraculous spring in a wonderful cave.

But the boys cut him short. They had seen
caves enough to last them for some time. Be-
sides, they were interested in this building with
the white dome, and proposed to have a look at
it. In vain the dragoman tried to persuade them
from this purpose. His arguments and excuses
only strengthened their determination.

"Come !" ordered Harold. "No more talking.
We 're going to ride over there— right now." He
turned his horse from the road toward the waste
of stony ground.

"No, no !" cried Amurath, his eyes wide with
fear. "You must not go, sair. It ees— it ees vair
dang'russ."

"Ah! Then you do know what it is?" put in
Jack.

"Yes, sair, I — I know," confessed the troubled
servant, but he would not reveal his knowledge,
only insisting that he "muss pertect two such
vair disteenguish Amurican gents."

"Don't be afraid. We can look after our-
selves," replied Harold. "Come on !"

At this Amurath threw up his chin and clucked
Vol. XL.— 67.

his tongue in solemn refusal. He would not go.
If the young gentlemen insisted on going alone,
he could not prevent it, but — the risk must be on
their own heads.

Whereupon the young gentlemen, with some
impatience, decided to take the risk, and the end
of it was that Amurath remained stubbornly be-
hind at the roadside, following the boys with
looks of gloomy foreboding as, accompanied by
Nasr-ed-Din, they set forth for the mysterious
white dome.

"It 's queer— the way that fellow acts !" mut-
tered Harold, as they guided their horses in and
out among jagged boulders.

"He 's probably just lazy," suggested Jack.

A short distance farther on, they came upon
two girls clad in coarse garments of blue and
green — the typical Bethlehem costume — who
were gleaning in the stony harvest-field as poor
women have gleaned for centuries in this ill-
nourished land. Thinking to gain some informa-
tion from them, young Evans drew in his horse,
and, holding up a piece of silver, beckoned to

A GROUP OF XEIBECKS.

the girls. They came forward laughing, and,
throwing back their white veils, stood, half-em-
barrassed, half-amused, while McGreggor noticed
the strings of coins braided in their dark hair.
"Shu nek bina dxr?" ("What is that building

530

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

[April,

there?") questioned Harold in his pleasantest
manner, as he pointed to the white dome.

It was a simple question, but it produced a
startling change in the two young women. In an
instant, their smiles and friendliness vanished,
and, without further thought of the proffered
money, they drew their veils over frightened
faces, and, springing away, ran across the field
as fast as they could go, crying, "Altun At!
Aman! Altun At!" ("The golden horse. Oh!
the golden horse !")

"What 's the trouble ? What are they shriek-
ing about ?" asked McGreggor.

"I have n't the least idea,'' replied Harold.
" 'Altun At' is Turkish for 'the golden horse,' but
what a golden horse has to do with this is more
than I know."

Here Nasr-ed-Din came forward with an ex-
planation. His keen eyes had been studying the
low building, now only a few hundred yards dis-
tant, and had made out the figure of a golden
horse surmounting the dome.

"Deeny 's right !" agreed McGreggor, looking
through his field-glasses (they were really Telec-
jian's). "I see a golden horse"—

"Maybe it 's a big weather-vane," suggested
Evans, "but I don't see—"

He paused, frowning, while Jack thoughtfully
screwed down his field-glasses and put them back
in their case.

"Neither do I. Why should those girls be
afraid of a little gold horse?"

'"There 's something or somebody there besides
the gold horse," muttered Sandy, and his lips
tightened as they drew near to a heavy iron-
bound gate in a massive stone wall that sur-
rounded the building.

McGreggor lowered his voice. "You mean —
Basil?"

Evans nodded. "That 's what I mean. If
Deeny 's got it straight, we 're going to see the
man we 've been looking for, and — Jack — old boy
— you 're with me?"

Harold's face was pale, and there was just the
slightest quiver in his voice as he held out his
hand to his friend. The great moment had come.
Something was about to happen, and both boys
knew it.

"I 'm with you, Sandy," answered McGreggor,
and he leaned forward along the neck of his
mount to clasp Evans's hand ; but just at that
moment the gate in the wall swung open, and
three huge wolf-dogs rushed out, showing ugly,
white fangs, and snarling fiercely. Jack's horse
shied and reared back suddenly, with the result

that the boy certainly would have been thrown
had not Nasr-ed-Din come to the rescue.

Harold, meantime, had sprung to earth, and
quickly gathered up some large stones. Then,
waiting until the dogs were almost on him, he
hurled these stones with sure aim.

"You brutes!" he shouted. "There! And
there ! Now then ! Ah ! It 's all right, Jack.
See 'em run." Evans watched the dogs as they
scurried back through the gate, yelping and limp-
ing.

And now, stepping forward resolutely, the boy
lifted his riding-whip and struck the handle three
times in sounding summons against the open por-
tal. Jack was close behind him, while Nasr-ed-
Din came last, leading the horses.

Presently a red-eyed, frowsy-looking servant
in peasant's costume, his bare feet thrust into
wooden shoes, came shuffling forward, and
showed them into a stone courtyard with arches
and doors opening out of it.

"Is the monk Basil here?" began Harold in
Turkish.

The servant stared in dull surprise.

"Don't you understand? I want the Greek
monk Basil. What do you speak? Arabic?"

The servant continued to stare, then, presently,
he moistened his thin lips and answered in Eng-
lish, a kind of slow, far-away English that he
might have learned in a book.

"You— wish — to— to see the — monk Basil?"

"Certainly," said Evans, sharply. "He 's the
head of this place, is n't he?"

"Yes— sir."

"Well, he 's here, is n't he?"

Again the servant did not answer, but, pointing
to a door under the nearest archway, he backed
down the courtyard, keeping his eyes fixed on the
Americans in fascinated interest.

"He 's a queer chap," reflected Jack. "I s'pose
he means that our friend Basil is in there where
he pointed."

"We '11 soon find out," said Harold, starting
toward the archway ; but scarcely had he taken
two steps in this direction, when he was stopped
by a heavy sound, and turning, he saw that the
gate in the massive wall had been closed. And
before the gate stood a formidable fellow wear-
ing a black astrakhan hat, a purple jacket em-
broidered with silver, and under this a yellow silk
vest across which ran diagonally two rows of
shining cartridges. At his side hung a pair of
daggers, and, carelessly poised over his arm, was
a Remington rifle.

"A Xeibeck !" 1 muttered Harold.

1 The Xeibecks are described by the Reverend Edwin M. Bliss, in his book on Turkey, as a tribe of fierce mountaineers

in Asiatic Turkey, noted for their lawless ways.

I9I3-]

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

531

"A what?" asked McGreggor.
"Wait ! Deeny ! Come here," beckoned Evans.
Still leading the horses, Nasr-ed-Din came for-
ward over the flat stones, and stood before his

"'DON'T TOUCH ME!' SAID HAROLD. 'I 'M AN AMERICAN CITIZEN.

master, watching the man at the gate, meantime,
out of the corner of his eye.

They spoke in low toneSj the boy and the griz-
zled Turk, and it seemed to Jack that Nasr-ed-Din
was appealing to Harold to leave the place.

"It does n't matter what he thinks. We 'vc
got to do the thinking," answered Evans, and he
gave quick instructions to the Turk. "I 'm tell-
ing him to wait here with the horses while we go
inside. He 's armed, and — if
that chap tries to start any-
thing—well, you know what
Deeny is."

"Yes, but, Sandy — "

Evans turned gravely to
his friend. "Jack, you know
what we 're here for," he
said ; and there was some-
thing so inspired in his look
that McGreggor's protests
all ceased, as Jack felt him-
self thrilling with his friend's
brave spirit. After all, this
was what they had come for,
to see the Greek monk ; upon
this depended their chance of
finding Dr. Evans.

"All right, old boy," an-
swered McGreggor, and he
followed Sandy through the
gloomy archway.

The boys now came into a
small, dimly lighted chapel
whose walls were painted in
dull red and gold. At one
end, before a battered altar,
two candles were burning in
tall candlesticks. No one was
in sight.

"Stay here," whispered
Evans.

Moving softly, he pushed
aside a leather-bound curtain,
when his ear caught the echo
of angry words in the court-
yard, and he hurried back to
McGreggor.

"What is it? What 's the
trouble ?" he asked quickly.

Jack was listening, white-
faced.

"I — I don't know," he trem-
bled. "You can't see out of
these windows. They 're too
high."
Harold rushed to the entrance, but the door
was barred against him.

"Deeny !" he shouted, rattling the lock.
The only answer was the sound of a struggle
outside with confused cries, the stamping of

HMM^^B

532

THE LAND OF MYSTERY

"Deeny !" the boy shouted again with all his
strength. "Deeny!"

And now, above the tumult, Harold made out
the voice of his faithful servant lifted in a des-
perate cry: "Avian Effcndi! Jannini kurtar !"
("Dear master, save yourself!")

Then there fell a silence, while the boys stared
at each other with ashen faces. What had hap-
pened? What was going to happen?

At this moment, a small window on the other
side of the chapel was pushed up cautiously, and
the frowsy servant climbed in, and exclaimed :

"This way ! Quick ! You can — escape !"

Jack rushed to the window.

"We 'd better go, Sandy."

Sandy Evans stood still, his hands clenched, his
breath coming quickly. He was afraid. There
was danger all about them. Deeny had fallen.
Jack was ready to leave him, and— the boy was
about to spring toward the window after Mc-
Greggor, when, suddenly, something steadied
him. He thought of his mother. He remem-
bered her tender blessing there by the pyramid :
"And us to Thy service." Perhaps this was His
service. Perhaps this was to be the test of his faith.

"Wait !" said Harold, turning to the servant.
"Did you tell the Greek monk that I want to see
him ?"

"Yes, sir, but — " the man shot a frightened
glance toward a small red door in the chapel wall.

"Is he in there?" asked the boy.

"Yes, sir, but — "

A heavy tread sounded from beyond the red
door and seemed to be coming toward them.

"Quick — sir !" begged the servant.

McGreggor's lips were white. "Come, Sandy !"

"You go, Jack/' said Evans, in a quiet voice;
"but— I 've got to stay here."

The tread came nearer.

"I — I can't stand it, Sandy," stammered Jack,
and, springing into the window, he wriggled his
way through, and disappeared outside. The ser-
vant followed him, leaving Evans alone.

There was just a second's pause, then, driven
by some strange power within him, Harold moved
toward the door. He knew he was going to open
it. He knew that nothing now could keep him
from opening it. He felt his heart pounding,
and — with a last effort, he turned the knob and
strode forward.

Immediately the boy found himself in a wide,
vault-like chamber lighted by two flaring torches
that projected from niches in the stone walls. In
the middle of this chamber stood the bearded
monk Basil in his black robes and black hat —

the day before in Jerusalem. And, beside him,
were two Xeibecks.

Basil's face darkened at the sight of the young
American.

"How dare you come in here?" he burst out in
excellent English. "I '11 show you what it means
to force yourself upon me." He spoke rapidly
to the Xeibecks, who bowed in grim understand-
ing, and advanced upon young Evans.

"Gheuturin!" ("Take him!") roared Basil.

"Don't touch me !" said Harold. "I 'm an
American citizen. My name is Harold Evans.
I 'm the son of Wicklow Evans. You know all
about him, and I 've come here to ask you — "

The boy paused for breath, and at that moment
there came a startling change in the monk's ex-
pression. It was as if he had suddenly remem-
bered something that he wished to forget, some-
thing that filled him with extraordinary agitation.

"Wait !" Basil ordered, and waved back the
ruffians. Then, with his hard, black eyes fixed
on Harold, he stood silent, breathing heavily, and
twisting his beard in his thick, white fingers.

"You — you came here from Cairo?" he asked
hoarsely.

"Yes."

"You went inside the Great Pyramid — did you?
You — found something there? Tell me, boy."

"I found a message from my father," answered
Harold. "He told me to come to you."

The monk gave a gasp, and clenched his fists
so hard that his whole body trembled.

"It 's true!" he muttered. "It must be true!"
Then, as if still doubting, "Why did you go in-
side the pyramid? Why?" His eyes were trou-
bled with a haunted, anxious look.

"My mother sent me there," the boy said
quietly. "She dreamed this message was on the
wall. It was n't exactly a dream. She — she
knczv it was there."

"A vision !" whispered Basil, and, lifting his
black hat, he wiped the perspiration from his
brow. Then, in a low tone, with all his arro-
gance gone: "I have tried to frighten you; I have
tried to drive you away, but— you are a brave
boy; you are your father's own son, and— now
I must tell you everything."

Harold stood speechless before this incredible
change in the strange man that he was facing.

"You mean you will tell me — about my fa-
ther?" he cried.

"I will tell you everything you wish to know,
but— not here— at Bethlehem. Come !"

With a gesture bordering on humility, Basil
swung open the heavy door, and pointed the way

From a Copley print, copyright by Curtis & Cameron, Inc.
THE LITTLE CRITIC. — PAINTED BY FRANCIS DAY.

WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS

BY A. RUSSELL BOND

Author of " The Scientific American Boy " and " Handyman's Workshop and Laboratory'

Chapter III

ONE HUNDRED FEET BELOW BROADWAY

Immediately after breakfast, on the next day,
we went down-town to see how foundations are
sunk to bed-rock in lower New York. The place we
wished to investigate was inclosed by a high board
fence, but projecting far above it was a confusion
of derricks, concrete mixing-machines, bucket
elevators, enormous wooden boxes, and curious,
cylindrical objects from which, every once in a
while, would come the sound of a whistle signal,

of dry, white sand would be drawn forth and
dumped into a hopper; then the bucket would be
swung back into the yawning mouth of the cylin-
der, and an attendant would swing a lever, clos-
ing the lid. Thereafter, there would be a number
of toots of the air whistle, and we could see the
bucket cable pay out or in, in accordance with
the signal.

It all seemed very mysterious, and whetted our
curiosity. We sought out Mr. Squires without
further delay. He proved to be a very approach-
able man, the kind that had n't forgotten that he

U nnre g W "Tf DirV Rnfrftkififi sgnt vnn

534

WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS

[April,

Will explained that we were anxious to know
how foundations are sunk.

"Simply a case of dig, dig, dig," said Mr.

Photograph by Brown Brotl

SWINGING THE BUCKET UP TO THE AIR-LOCK — THE IRON
BLOCKS ABE USED TO KEEP THE CAISSON DOWN.

Squires, "until we get to rock ; when we get
down to water, we keep it out of the excavation
with compressed air."

"How do you do that?"

"On the same principle as the diving-bell. You
know, if you plunge a tumbler mouth down into
a basin of water, the air trapped in the tumbler
will keep the water from filling it completely. If
enough air were pumped into the tumbler, it
would be possible to keep out every drop of wa-
ter. We do that very thing in building founda-
tion piers. First we make a big diving-bell,
called a caisson. It is a large box of wood, or
steel, or concrete, with the top and bottom open.
At the bottom, the box has fairly sharp cutting
edges ; about seven feet up from this cutting
edge, there is a horizontal partition called the
'deck.' This is made very strong, because it
_b/is . to... carry.. the . .vvriaht. <->.{. tin- ..wHol/

hogs,' as we call them, get into and out of the
working chamber under this deck through a tube,
or 'shafting,' as it is called. They dig away the
soil and gravel below, constantly undermining
the caisson, so that it gradually sinks into the
earth. As the caisson is sunk, the concrete pier
is built up on its deck, and its weight helps to
force the cutting edges into the ground. As the
work progresses, new caisson sections are added
on top, and the shafting is extended for the sand-
hogs and excavating material."

"But where does the water come from?" I
asked.

"The lower end of New York is built over a
deep layer of sand and porous soil that is satu-
rated with water from the river. About fifty
feet below the curb, in this part of New York,
we come to water ; then we have to put on the

Photograph by Brown Brothers.

AT WORK ON THE FOUNDATIONS OF A SKY-
THE FOREGROUND IS A NARROW WOODE

SCRAPER. IN
N CAISSON.

air-pressure to keep it out. The first thing we

I9I3-J

WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS

535

Photograph by Brown Brothers.

GOING DOWN TO WORK IN THE SAND BUCKET. THE
MEN ARE SUPPOSED TO USE THE LADDER.

pressure. The lock is just a cylinder with a
hinged lid, or door, at the top and bottom. One
or other of those lids must be closed all the time,
to hold the pneumatic pressure in the caisson.
The bottom door is closed when the top door is
open to let the men in. After they enter the
lock, the lock-tender lifts the upper door shut,
and turns a valve to let the compressed air in.
All the time, the bottom door is kept closed
by the air-pressure in the shaft below, but, as air
is let into the lock, its pressure at length equals
that in the caisson, and, there being nothing to
hold up the bottom door, it swings open of its
own weight, so that the men can go on down to
the working chamber."

"Could we go down into one of the caissons,
sir?" asked Will.

"Oh, no, that is entirely out of the question,"
said Mr. Squires. Then, as he saw the disap-
pointment in our faces, he explained : "There
is n't anything to see down there, and it is pretty
dirty work."

"We don't mind the dirt," I interrupted.

"Well, I don't know," said Mr. Squires, hesi-
tating. "You say Dick Hotchkiss sent you to
me? That settles it then, if you really want to
go. Come on to the sand-hog house, and I '11 see
if I can rig you out in boots and oilskins. But
hold on. When did you have breakfast? Eight
o'clock? You did n't have a very substantial
meal, did you?"

We told him what constituted our usual morn-
ing fare.

"That 's not enough," he said. "Run over to
that restaurant, and fill up with all you can eat."

That seemed like an odd preliminary to our
work. "It 's like feeding the prisoners just be-
fore they are to be executed," I remarked.

"But," Mr. Squires explained, "down there you

Photograph by T

Company.

SETTING UP THE FORMS AND REINFORCING BARS FOR
CASTING A CONCRETE WORKING CHAMBER.

will take in three times the usual amount of
oxygen with every breath. Your 'innards' are
going to work under forced draft, and so you

THE FIRE IN THE CAISSON. "DANNY REACHED FOR THE SIGNAL ROPE." (see page S4o.

536

WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS

537

must have plenty of fuel aboard. It is one of the
rules that the men cannot go under pneumatic
pressure except on a full stomach." So we re-
paired to the nearest restaurant, and filled our
bunkers with broiled steak and apple-pie.

"Now we shall see the doctor," said Mr.
Squires.

"The doctor !" we both exclaimed ; "why, we
are not ill !"

"Certainly. Every one has to undergo a physi-
cal examination before entering a caisson."

All this preliminary was most impressive. For
the first time it occurred to me that there might
really be some danger, but, shucks ! what did I
care about dangers as long as I could feel good,
solid earth beneath me.

The doctor was such a serious-looking man
that we never, for a moment, imagined he might
play a joke on us. He felt of my pulse, looked at
my tongue, listened to my heart, and then
thumped and pounded me unmercifully all about
my chest and back, to see if I were perfectly
sound. I tell you I was sore before he got
through with me ! I ached all over, but found
some consolation in the thought that Will's turn
was coming next. After Will had stood the test,
the doctor began in a clerical tone to sermonize
on the awful hazard we were inviting upon our-
selves. He told us that we were to enter a cham-
ber where the air was compressed to over three
times the density of the atmosphere. "On every
square inch of your body," he said, "there will
be a pressure of thirty-five pounds above the
ordinary pressure of the air, and thirty-five
pounds on every inch means 5000 on every square
foot, or about fifty tons on your whole body.
Think of that, young men, fifty tons ! Why, that
would smash you as flat as a griddle-cake if you
did not take air of the same pressure inside your
body, so that it would press out and counteract
the outside compression. The weakest spots
are your ear-drums. You will have to look out
for them. They are liable to burst unless you
can get compressed air up your Eustachian tubes.
The only way to do it is to take a long breath,
and then, holding your nose and keeping, your
mouth shut, blow for all you are worth."

I began to suspect that we were providing a
lot of fun for these men, but they were both so •
insistent about it, that we had to practise blow-
ing so that we should know how to do it when
in the air-lock. I learned afterward that that
bit of practice was the only really important
item in the whole farcical examination. The
doctor explained how men who did n't heed in-
structions were affected with a dreadful malady
known as the "caisson disease."
Vol. XL.— 68.

"In its very mildest form," he said, "you are
seized with cramps and shooting pains from
which you can get no relief. Every bone in your
body will ache so that you cannot sleep. In the
more serious stages, you become paralyzed.
There is one simple test of your condition. Can
you whistle ? Yes ? Well as long as you can whis-
tle, you are all right, but if, after you have been
in awhile, you experience any difficulty, it means
trouble. Your lips are losing their sensitiveness,
a slow paralysis is coming on."

At this, Mr. Squires had a terrific coughing-
spell, but there was not even the flicker of a smile
on the doctor's face as he waved us off.

Mr. Squires led the way up a ladder to a plat-
form surrounding one of the cylinders we had
seen. Just as we reached it, there was a sudden
blast of air, the trap-door at the top opened, and
out came a load of sand. We climbed into the
lock, and the lock-tender closed the upper door.
The lock was a large chamber about ten feet in
diameter, lighted by an electric bulb. At the
bottom, there was a trap-door. Mr. Squires
warned us against standing on it. The lock-ten-
der turned a valve and let the compressed air
rush into our chamber with a loud, hissing noise.
The noise was so deafening, we could n't talk,
but Mr. Squires motioned to us to follow his ex-
ample of taking in deep breaths, and blowing
with nose and mouth tightly shut. I felt a little
queer as the pressure came on, but was in no dis-
tress. The pressure on my ear-drums was far
from pleasant. I looked at Will, and could n't
help laughing. He was following directions so
conscientiously, taking in copious breaths, and
blowing until his cheeks were distended like bal-
loons.

Suddenly, the trap-door below us dropped
open with a clang that echoed and reechoed
down the yawning well that seemed to run to the
very center of the earth. The well was pear-
shaped, with a latticed partition dividing it into
two shaftings, the smaller one for the workmen,
and the other for the sand bucket. The trap-
door opened into a chamber with a narrow ledge
to stand upon, and we had to climb down into it
and then over to the workmen's shafting. Mr.
Squires then pulled a whistle cord, in response
to which the lock-tender swung the bottom door
shut.

A ladder led down the workmen's shafting,
which was lighted with a few electric lamps. We
could see the shafting tapering with the perspec-
tive until it formed but a tiny hole where it
passed into the workmen's chamber, a hundred
feet below. In the murky darkness, we could
barely make out the forms of men in the cham-

538

WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS

[April,

PASSING A BUCKET THROUGH THE ATR-LOCK. BEHIND
THE LATTICE IS THE WORKMEN'S LADDER.

ber. They looked like gnomes in an elfin world.
We had been transformed into a real, live chap-
ter of the Arabian Nights.

I tried to speak to Will, but my voice sounded
so high and nasal that I could scarcely tell what
I was saying. Mr. Squires had already started
down the ladder, and we scrambled after him.
It was a long, tedious descent, and I wondered
how we should ever get up again. Somehow, I
felt a peculiar exhilaration. It seemed easier to
do things in that atmosphere.

When, at last, we reached the bottom of the
shafting, we wriggled down a rope ladder to the
ground. The working chamber was rectangular,
measuring about ten by fifteen feet; five sand-

THE WORKING CHAMBER OF A CONCRETE CAISSON
HAS A STEPPED ROOF.

hogs were at work. They had dug a wide hole
in the sand at the center of the chamber, and
were extending it toward the sides. Mr. Squires
explained that they would dig to the edge of the
chamber, undermining the edges of the caisson
if necessary, so that they would sink into the
ground. The deck, a foot or so above our heads,
was made of heavy timbers, and supported a con-
crete pier that extended in a solid mass eighty
feet above us. The shaft was getting so deep
that the weight of the concrete was no longer
enough to force it down,
and tons of pig-iron were
loaded on top to overcome
the friction of the earth on
all sides of the caisson.

"Nowadays," said Mr.
Squires, "caissons for deep
building foundations are
nearly always made of steel
or concrete. We happen to be using wooden cais-
sons here because the contract for this job was
not let until the last moment. The wreckers had
already removed the old building that stood on
this property, and we had to start operations at
once. There was no time to build concrete
caissons, or wait for steel ones from the mill. It
does n't take long to build a timber caisson, and
lumber is always at hand."

It was damp in the chamber, and water dripped
from the ceiling ; but the sand floor was quite
dry. The air forced all the water out of the
sand. It was hot in there, too. Mr. Squires ex-
plained that compressing the air heated it, and if
they did not use a special cooling system, the tem-
perature in the working chamber would be simply
unbearable.

My ! how those men worked. "You see, they
are taking in such a lot of oxygen at each breath,"
said Mr. Squires. "Take them out in the open,
and they are too lazy to do a thing. 'Once a
sand-hog, always a sand-hog,' the saying goes.
They are simply unfit for work unless stimulated
with oxygen. They can only work two hours at
a time in this pressure. It is dangerous for them
to be in any longer."

Mr. Squires turned on his heel and started off,
whistling. As if of one mind, Will and I puck-
ered our mouths for a whistle, but the sound
failed to come. In alarm we tried again, and
yet again, but without avail. Thoroughly fright-
ened, we ran after Mr. Squires, and told him
that we had symptoms of paralysis; we could n't
whistle.

"Try harder !" he urged. "Sometimes if you
put forth a little effort, the symptoms disappear."
We blew and blew, until we were red in the face.

I9I3-]

WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS

539

He looked genuinely concerned, and, calling to
one of the men, said: "Here, Pat, take these two
boys to the doctor at once, and tell him they can't
whistle."

Pat grinned from ear to ear as we made for
the ladder and began climbing like mad. I
thought we should never reach the lock. A hun-
dred feet up was three times as much as a hun-
dred feet down. Try running up to the ninth
floor of a building, and then imagine how much
harder it would be to make that same ascent up
a vertical ladder. What if the paralysis spread
to our arms and legs before we got to the top !
We were pretty well fagged before we reached
the lock and scrambled through the lattice, but
the rich oxygen we took in with every breath
sustained us wonderfully. Pat was not far be-
hind us. He shouted to us to get down out of
the way of the trap-door, then he gave the signal,
and presently the door fell open.

We dragged ourselves into the lock and the
door closed behind us ; then we waited an inter-
minable time for the compressed air to be let out.
The chamber filled with fog as the pressure was
reduced, and, after a time, the upper door clanged
open, and we jumped out into the sunshine.

A shift of sand-hogs gathered around the door
of the doctor's shack as we were ushered in.

"Docther," said Pat, "these bhoys is afflicted
with serious symptims. Their whistlin' orgins is
paralyzed."

"Most distressing, most distressing," replied
the doctor. "You will have to get them a tin
whistle, Pat." The guffaws of laughter that
greeted this prescription were disconcerting, to
say the least. We were completely taken in.
How should we know that it is very difficult to
whistle in air as dense as that in a caisson, and
that only by considerable practice can one ac-
quire the art of making "lip music" under pres-
sure ? However, there was nothing to do but to

THE WORKING CHAMBER OF A WOODEN CAISSON.

laugh with the rest, and make the best of the
joke. The doctor made us stay in his office for
a half-hour or so, to keep us from becoming
chilled, and made up for the prank he had played
upon us by recounting some very curious adven-
tures he had had. Presently Mr. Squires came
in, and we had to go over the whole story again.

"It was one on us, all right," said Will, with a
forced laugh; "but you sent us out before we had
seen half there was to see. You will have to
answer questions now. What do you do when
the caisson is sunk all the way down to rock?"

"We blast out a good footing if the rock is
tilted."

"What ! You blast rock down in that small
chamber !"

"Oh, yes, the sand-hogs all get out of the
chamber when the charge is set off. We have a
trap-door at the bottom of the shaft. The men
all climb into the shaft and pull up the trap-door,
then the gang boss sets off the charges with elec-
tricity."

"But after you have finished blasting, what
then?"

"Oh, then we just fill in with concrete. The
concrete is laid round the cutting edges first. The
filling then proceeds toward the center. Then
we work up the shaft, filling up the hole behind
us until the entire pier is built up solid. What
next?" asked Mr. Squires.

"I can't think of anything more; can you,
Will?"

"No, not without going in again," he replied.

"You can go down with Danny Roach in one
of the narrow coffer-dam caissons, if you like,"
he answered. "We find it necessary to build a
solid wall all the way down to rock on two sides
of the building, because we expect to have a
pretty deep cellar, and the adjacent buildings
were built on floating foundations. Not many
years ago, foundations used to be made that way.
Piles were driven into the mud and sand as close
to one another as possible, and then upon them
was built a grillage of iron rails, that is, the
rails were piled in tiers that crisscrossed one
above the other, and upon this grillage the columns
of the building were supported. That form of
foundation is pretty good until some one digs a
deep hole near by, then, under the weight of the
building, the quicksand oozes into this hole, and
the building settles badly, sometimes dangerously.

In Chicago, most of the buildings are supported
on floating foundations, because the sand is so
deep that it is impossible to get down to rock. A
man can't work at much more than no feet below
water-level, because the pressure would be over
47 pounds per square inch. Some Chicago

540

WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS

buildings are constantly sinking. For this rea-
son, scores of hydraulic jacks are placed under
the columns, and now and then the building is
jacked up to its original level. We have to run
a wall all around our foundations to keep the
quicksand out of our subcellar. But run along
with Danny Roach. He '11 explain the whole
thing to you. He knows more about real caisson
work than any other man alive."

Danny Roach, a big, broad Irishman who
looked in at the doorway just at that opportune
moment, seemed only too glad to show us around.
The caisson we entered was only five feet wide
by twenty feet long. A group of sand-hogs were
digging away the sand. It seemed peculiarly
sticky material. Our feet sank into it as if it
were soft mud, and yet, apparently, it was dry
when we picked up a handful.

"Tricherous stuff thot," said Danny Roach ;
"if there wuz no pressure on it, it wad be the
wurst koind of quicksand."

There was a man in the chamber puttying
leaks in the caisson, close to the deck, with clay
and oakum. He carried what I thought was a
torch, but it proved to be only a common wax
candle. The rich oxygen in the caisson drew out
the flame to a length of four or five inches. It
was wonderful how things burned in that air.

"Hey ! luk out there," called out Danny Roach.
"Kape that candle away from thim timbers, or
yez '11 have thim afoire."

"Could you really set that damp wood afire?"
asked Will.

"Sure, if there was a laik, the outpourin' air
wad suck the flame through the hole, and we wad
have the wurst koind of a foire. Luk out, ye
fool of a man !" yelled Danny Roach. The man
stumbled, clutched at something to save himself
from falling, and, as luck would have it, tore
down the electric-light wires, broke the circuit,
and, instantly, we were in darkness. Even his
candle was extinguished, for he fell upon it and
snuffed out the blaze. The only light was a
brilliantly glowing ember in Danny Roach's pipe.
Once, when I was a child, I had read of a young
chap who crawled into a hollow log after a rab-
bit, and was trapped in there by the inwardly
pointing splinters. I did n't get over it for weeks,

( To be coti

and now that same feeling of horror seized me.
It was all I could do to keep from venting my
panic in a yell. I don't know about Will, but I
venture he was thinking about the blessed sun-
shine just then. Presently some one scratched a
match; it blazed up brilliantly. A candle was
lighted, and the match was tossed carelessly
aside. Almost immediately there was a flare of
light like the flash of gunpowder.

"The o-akum !" cried Danny Roach.

There was a big pile of it in the center of the
working chamber. It burned fiercely, and the heat
was intense. We saw that the deck would be
ablaze in another instant, if something were not
done to quench the fire; and if the deck gave
way, might not the mass of concrete above crush
through and mash us as if we were so many
flies? But the chances were we would be burned
to death before that happened. All this went
through my mind like a flash.

In the meantime, Danny Roach had taken in
the situation. There was a bucket nearly filled
with sand standing beside the burning oakum
and almost enveloped in the flames. He reached
for the signal rope, gave a signal, in response to
which the bucket was lifted three feet off the
ground, then, rushing through the flames, he
kicked the trip of the bucket. A ton of sand
poured out over the blazing oakum and smoth-
ered the fire. Danny Roach's clothes were afire,
and he rolled around on the ground, trying to
quench the flames. It was with difficulty that we
extinguished the blaze, and poor Danny was very
painfully burned. He was placed as tenderly as
possible in the sand bucket, and, with the gang
boss attending him, was hauled up to the surface.

The rest of us climbed up the shaft, which was
filled so full of smoke that we could scarcely
breathe. We came so near smothering in the
lock that we signaled to the lock-tender to let the
air out as fast as he could. I tell you what ! we
were glad to get out of that stifling atmosphere.

Poor Danny Roach had done his duty so
quickly, that we scarcely realized what a hero he
was. The doctor was doing his best to relieve
the man's suffering until the ambulance arrived,
but told us that the brave fellow would have to
spend a week at least, in the hospital.

thtued. )

THE

cBu J^ar£a ret Johnson

1NCE on a time— I won't say when,
But long before / used a pen ! —
The letters of the Alphabet
Began with one accord to fret,

Their tasks disdained, declared for play,

And boldly claimed a holiday.

Said O,— the spokesman, it appears,—
'We 've worked for years and years and years,
Since long before the printing-press
Made all our labors more, not less.
Some old Phenician, so they say,
First sent us on our arduous way;
And ever since that fateful day
We 've been the most obedient crew ! —
Done just what we were told to do,
Worked overtime, by day, by night,
By sun- and gas- and candle-light,
At beck and call of every wight
Who chose to read or spell or write !
Through all the centuries marching down,
For others we have won renown,
Nor broken ranks, nor— heed it well ! —
From spelling had one breathing-spell !
With all the world it is not thus !
Why then, my friends, this fate for us?

The very comet, high in space,
Is free sometimes to run a race ;
The week-days have their Sunday out ;
The seasons too, beyond a doubt,
Their regular vacations take,
The dull routine of work to break.
We only— Comrades, are we slaves !
Shall we submit to scribbling knaves !
Or shall we, scornful, rise" (a cheer,
And cries of "Bravo \" and "Hear, hear !") .
"Declare to law and order 'Bah !'
And 'Freedom !' shout ! 'Hip, hip, hurrah !' '

542

THE ALPHABET'S HOLIDAY

[April,

"Hip, hip, hurrah ! Break ranks !"

cried A,
"By laws all mortal things obey,
I here proclaim a Holiday!"

Then— stars and garters ! what a

sight !
The letters flew to left and right ;
They danced and pranced this way

and that,
They stood up straight, they fell

down flat.
A scampered down to chat with Z,
And X came skipping up to C.
I stared at J, and J at I,
And M and N kept asking Y.
Q quarreled dreadfully with U,
And H deserted W,
And O made mouths— O fie!— to jeer
At U and I, his comrades dear !
V proudly stood upon his head,
Pretending he was A instead;
And crooked S turned somersaults,
And rudely hissed at others' faults.
K kicked at R, who tried to sing,
F danced with L a Highland Fling;
And B the banjo plucked, ping, ping!
While P at leap-frog played with E,
And arm in arm strolled D and G,
And went and choked themselves

with T !

Meanwhile the world, I need not say,
Was in a most distressing way !
The teachers one and all resigned ;
The preachers were not far behind;
The printers looked with streaming

eye
Upon their pages, full of "pi";
The authors wept by day and night
Because their books they could not

write;
The ink in all the ink-wells dried;
And all the little children cried
Because (and some are crying yet!)
They could not learn the Alphabet !

What next had happened, no one

knows,
But all at once a man arose,
A very wise and learned man
(From Harvard or from Hindustan)
Who could, with certain magic words,
Turn eggs to rabbits, mice to birds,
And things like that, — the kind, you

know,
You see each year at Barnum's Show.

> r*

I9U-]

THE ALPHABET'S HOLIDAY

543

And when that man those letters met,
To that misguided Alphabet
He made a dark and dreadful threat,
Which caused each one from A to Zed
To shiver in his shoes with dread !

"If,"— terrible his booming voice !
To hear or not they had no choice, — '
"If," he declared, "you don't behave,
But once this little wand I '11 wave,
And turn you all, in twenty whiffs,
Into Egyptian Hieroglyphs !"

O fearful words ! O fate unknown !
Oh, better, better far their own !
Those frightened letters, how they jumped !
How knees and elbows banged and bumped !
They ran, they flew, they leaped, they skipped,
In frantic haste they turned and tripped,
Till, spent and breathless with the race,
Each one regained his wonted place ;
And in their ancient order, led

By him who always took the head,
Once more they stood, from A to Zed.
Then — not till then — the wizard blue
His stern and awful gaze withdrew,
And chuckling softly in his sleeve,
Retired— to Jersey, I believe.
But such the deep impress he made,
The letters thus till now have stayed,
And done their duty as before
For all these many years, and more.

Yet, even now, so teachers tell,
In theme and composition, — well,
Of course, we all know how to spell !
And 't is n't fair, perhaps, to state, —
But I myself, or soon or late,
In strange misconduct here and there
Of letters— not my fault, I swear! —
I too have seen, I 'm free to say,
Some traces of that fateful day
When, as it cannot quite forget,
In freedom roved the Alphabet !

AiCil

;f€!h ji

;lmm

©PQ1

SfD¥f ;

THE ADMIRAL

BY HERBERT PUTNAM

While all you lazy people take your ease,

I sail

The seas.
To many lands through many seas I sail

And nev-

Er quail,
Nor, even when the ship goes up and down,

So much

As frown,
For I 've been middy, captain, commodore,

And now

Much more—
An admiral! with cocked hat and epaulet.

They call

Me "Vet,"

And always, when I pass by in my ship,
The col-
Ors dip;

And often, when I go from ship to shore,
The can-
Non roar.

A fleet of ships, not one, you understand,

Is my

Command ;
All ready, when I buckle on my sword

And give

The word,
To battle with the foe, however strong,

And right

The wrong:
For that 's the only battle I shall fight,

The one

For Right,
And never shall my ships or cannon seek

To hurt

The weak.

But when our foes my pennant once espy

And know

It 's I,
They hurry up their sails and scud away,

Nor wait

The fray.
So both my sword and pistol never cease

To make

For peace,
And dreadful to you as they now appear,

You need

Not fear.

With this long glass I readily can see

Where dan-

Gers be ;
The compass tells me where we ought to go

To find

The foe.
But — let me whisper— though I seem so bold

And am

So old,
There arc times when I really am perplexed

And e-

Ven vexed ;
Then, when I want to do the truly right

With all

My might,
I ask the compass that is a/ways true: —

Mama,

That 's you !

544

BOOKS AND READING

BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE

STORIES OF NORMAN ENGLAND

Last month, with Hereward the Wake, we saw
the end of William I, the Conqueror, after he
had made an end of Saxon England. For almost
a century, England was under Norman rulers ; and
a terrible century it was. To be sure, there were
troubles enough with the Plantagenets, who fol-
lowed the Normans. But somehow the two Wil-
liams, Henry, Matilda, and Stephen, the Norman
sovereigns, managed to be more oppressive,
tyrannical, and generally unendurable than any
king or queen who came after them.

The time was one of struggle and fighting. The
nobles were all trying to snatch as much of the
country as they could, in order to wring money
from its wretched population. Each bold, ungov-
erned spirit behaved like a beast of the jungle,
knowing no restraint, no law but its own desires.
The great lords bore nicknames that tell suffi-
ciently what sort of characters they possessed:
the Wolf, the Flaming Torch, the Death, the
Heavy Hand, were some of these nicknames.

When the people were n't actually starving,
they were usually being killed, or imprisoned, or
sold as serfs, or forced into the wars. To escape
these woes, many men became outlaws, adding to
the danger of the rest, burning, robbing and slay-
ing, fighting among themselves, living a hand-to-
mouth existence in the forests that covered a
large part of England and Wales.

Exciting, no doubt of that, these wild times !
History passes over them with a general indica-
tion that they could n't have been much worse-
darkest England, that of the latter half of the
eleventh and first half of the twelfth centuries;
but full of romantic possibilities, dashing stories,
and stirring adventures. And so, good material
for the historic novel. Many a quaint old manu-
script tells personal tales of those far days, while
records and letters and documents relating to the
men in the thick of affairs yield many details.
From these and other sources the romance writ-
ers have taken their facts.

In spite of all the terror and the suffering, life
was still tolerable most of the time. Men and
women married, and their children grew up, play-
ing and laughing. There were good friends then
as now, splendid acts of courage and self-sacri-
fice, cheerfulness under difficulties, and a sturdy
manhood that showed under the unlikeliest cir-
Voi.. XL.-69. 5

cumstances, with that same determination to be
free which eventually brought about Magna
Charta, and finally our own great Declaration.

It is all this we want to know about, and which
we seek among the stories told of the men and
women of that time. Stories that show us how
the common people lived, what their homes were
like, how they managed to withstand their oppres-
sors, the jobs they worked at, the clothes they
wore. England could hardly, as yet, be called a
nation, so at enmity were its various parts ; but
it was being formed, and all this pain and suffer-
ing and grim struggling against tyranny had a
glory.

William II, the second son of the Conqueror
(whose eldest-born remained in Normandy), suc-
ceeded him. He was called Rufus, or the Red
King, because of the extreme ruddiness of his
complexion, which burned brick-red between the
flowing blond hair that he wore long. Short and
squat, powerful and utterly without even the hazi-
est notions of right and wrong— everything he
wanted being right, and whatever opposed him
wrong— his one occupation was robbing; though,
to be sure, he had a thousand methods for getting
the money or land from its real owners, a few of
which were dignified by the name of law.

Henry I, who followed Rufus, was called the
Fine Scholar, because of a trend toward study
remarkable in a royal personage at that time.
Things were not so bad under him, but when he
died, the long, fierce wars between Matilda and
Stephen the Usurper began, desolating England.

You can get a brief glimpse of these rulers and
some idea of their characters from the first few
stories in Church's "Stories of English History,"
and Charles Morris's "Historical Tales: English,"
both of them excellent reading. They will refresh
your memory as to the facts which the books I
am going to tell about in this number base their
stories upon. Church tells us that Rufus was
said to have had but two virtues : one a devotion
to his father, the other great personal courage.
Once, it is said, while pursuing an enemy on
horseback, he came to the sea, and commanded
the owner of a small vessel to cross the Channel
with him. A fierce storm was raging, and the
man feared to attempt the crossing, saying no
ship could live in such a sea, that to set out was
certain death.

But Rufus shouted to him that go he would.

546

BOOKS AND READING

"Hold thy peace, man," he commanded. "Kings
are never drowned."

There are several good historical novels telling
the story of England from 1087, when William
the Conqueror died, to the end of the Norman
rule in 11 58. Unluckily, they are not very easy
to come by.

I don't think you should have any trouble in
getting Gertrude Hollis's story, "In the Days of
St. Anselm," however. It is a comparatively re-
cent book, and it is so good that it remains in
print, and is usually in the public libraries.

In this story we follow the fortunes of a Saxon
"villein" and his wife throughout the reign of the
Red King. Purkess and Judith are two fine speci-
mens of the old race, then reduced to slavery, but
still retaining a spark of the sturdy, liberty-loving
spirit which distinguished it in the past. They
live near Canterbury and are serfs to the monas-
tery under Prior Godrich, a good man, but unable
to do much for his people, since he is himself
oppressed by the king and his wicked minister,
Ranulph. We are given a clear view of this
oppression, and then, by a fortunate circum-
stance, Purkess and Judith are freed.

This ceremony of "manumission," as it was
called, was extraordinarily picturesque and im-
pressive. Miss Hollis puts it very vividly before
us, with all its color and tense feeling. After it,
Purkess is allowed to bear arms, to defend him-
self to some extent at least from wrongful op-
pression, and to choose his own lord and place of
abode.

In this book we look out on the England of the
end of the eleventh century with the eyes of one
of the lowliest of the country's population. We
rage with him at the overpowering insolence and
rapacity of the great captains and noblemen ; we
are conscious of his helplessness and sharers in
his bitter poverty. And we rejoice with him and
his wife as gradually things get a little better;
for luck is on Purkess's side, as it is apt to be on
the side of a fine, strong, fearless young fellow,
faithful and trustworthy. Good friends come to
aid him, and through a series of events he be-
comes one of the servants of Anselm, whom the
king, thinking himself to be dying, has made
Archbishop of Canterbury, the most important
position in the state, next to that of the crown.

Adventures follow each other thick and fast ;
we get to Wales and see a large part of England.
And in the end we are brought with Purkess,
who has long since gone to live in the New Forest
as a charcoal-burner, far from the tyranny of the
masters, to find the body of the king, who was
shot while hunting, by no man knows whom, an
arrow having glanced and pierced his heart. This

forest was created by the Conqueror for his plea-
sure, he having turned hundreds upon hundreds
out of their poor homes in order to reduce the
land once more to a wilderness ; and it was the
common belief that the place was a fatal one for
his family. At any rate, two of his sons and a
great-nephew were killed in it.

I have only been able to find one book on the
times of Henry I — "Pabo," by S. Baring-Gould.
Its scene is Wales, and it is especially concerned
with showing how Henry tried to subjugate the
wild Welshmen. The author was a finished
writer, capable of taking you straight into his
book, of making you feel twelfth century and
Welsh yourself, and no one knows better how to
make a story alive and interesting.

If you can get R. D. Chetwolde's book, "The
Knight of the Golden Chain" (Appleton, $1.50,
1898), it is just the volume to read next.' It is a
collection of splendid stories of outlaws in the
years immediately following Henry's death, when
the long and terrible strife between the Empress
Matilda and Stephen was devastating the land,
and when many thousands of men took to the
forests and hills, living by robbery. This is a
book that any girl or boy will love, it is so
crowded with adventure, and with many a fine
and brave deed to redeem the general lawlessness.

Quite another view of these dread times of Ste-
phen and Matilda is to be found in the story by
Charles MacFarlane, "A Legend of Reading
Abbey" (Dutton, $1.00, 1904). It is a book that
gives a most intimate, gentle, home view — pic-
tures of people engaged in their every-day occu-
pations— and yet through it runs the constant
menace of sudden death and violent disturbance.

Another book that covers the same era is by
Rev. C. W. Whistler, "For King or Empress"
(T. Nelson Sons, $1.25), and is a good, thrilling
story that puts the situation pretty completely.
It is set in Somersetshire and Norwich, where
the struggle was particularly fierce. There were
wild doings, and these disturbances were fated to
endure for centuries. You find them still going
on in "Ivanhoe," though that is in the time of
Richard, the Lion-Hearted, many years later.

There is a glimpse of England in the time of
Rufus at the end of Scott's "Count Robert of
Paris." Most of the book is in the Holy Land
with the first Crusaders, but it closes in England.

With the above books, or even half of them,
you will get a fine idea of Norman England, and
I can promise you an enjoyable time reading
them. And by this time you will begin to feel
very much at home in Old England, quite as
though these ancient ancestors of yours were
friends and companions.

PROFESSOR WISEACRE AND THE
OSTRICH EGG

DRAWINGS BY CHARLES F. LESTER

'AH! an ostrich egg! I 'll just put my hat over it to shield IT TILL I COME BACK.

ij-" ttg^gsa

o ■..

£=^5^

JUT the sun was warm, and during his absence something happened that

PROFESSOR WISEACRE HAD NEVER SEEN RECORDED IN ANY OF HIS SCIENTIFIC BOOKS.

547

BY CAROLINE VERH.OEFF

{For children between the ages of seven and eleven. All the parts may be taken by girls')

Directions for Staging : But one full set of scenery
is required, a wood scene. If the play is presented in a
large hall, the scenery may often be procured from a
local theater, at little, or no, cost. If a drawing-
room is used, a small wood scene, either mounted or
unmounted, may be purchased from Samuel French,
24 West Twenty-second Street, New York City.
Where economy is desirable, the following home-
made scenery will prove quite satisfactory : Back-
ground, stretch a rope from one eight-foot ladder to
another. Hang sheets over the rope, and to the
sheets fasten wall-paper representing a forest. If a
good grade of wall-paper is selected, the effect is ex-
cellent. For the wings use two large-sized clothes-
horses covered as the background, and placed to al-
low entrances to front and back. The backs of the
clothes-horses are hung with white sheets, and in the
garret scene they are simply turned to inclose the
foreground of the stage, representing white walls.
In the last act, a pretty transformation may be ef-
fected by means of a tarlatan curtain, green and
hung with paper spring flowers, which is allowed to
roll down and cover the background by the Spring
Fairy. Or, if more convenient, strips of wall-paper
with a design of flowers, birds, or butterflies may
be used.

Properties : Two chairs, preferably gilt, for the
King and Queen. A couch for the sleeping Princess,
and a robe to throw over her. This robe is made of
brown cambric, covered on one side with cotton bat-
ting and sprinkled with "Christmas snow" ; on the
other with paper flowers and artificial moss. One or
more bare trees or branches. These last are not ab-
solutely necessary.

Costumes: These are made of cambric or sateen,
in the brightest colors. For King, Queen, and Page
copy the pictures in any good fairy-tale book. The

Princess requires two costumes, a brown dress to
represent the earth in the fall, and one of bright
green, hung with spring flowers, to wear when she
awakens in the spring. The Prince requires a suit
of the brightest gold, with long, flowing sleeves and
strings of tinsel hanging from his neck like rays of
sunshine. The Fairies dress to represent their re-
spective parts as spring, summer, autumn, and win-
ter. Winter should be all in white, with silver tinsel.
Characters : There may be as many Lords and
Ladies as the stage can accommodate. There must
be three of each if the procession in Act II is to be
effective, but if the stage is very small, the two chil-
dren who take the parts of Prince and Princess in
the last act may appear as a Lord and Lady in the
second. Two Lords a%d two Ladies will be sufficient
for the dance in the last act.

King

Queen

Princess

Lords and Ladies

Page

Four Fairies

Spring
Summer
Autumn
Winter

Time : The play requires from a half-hour to an
hour, according to the number of Lords and Ladies,
and to the length of the dances.

Scene: Act I— The depths of the woods; Act II—
The palace garden; Act III— A garret; Act IV—
Winter woods ; Act V — The awakening in the
palace garden.

ACT I

{Curtain rises on the three Fairies, Spring, Summer,
and Autumn, dancing in the woods. After dance is
finished, enter the King's Page with three letters, one
of which he hands to each Fairy with a courtly bow.)

548

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

549

Page. A message from the court, so please Your
Fairyships.

Fairies. {Tear open the envelops and read) The
King and Queen do now request that you, as God-
mama, will attend the christening of the Royal Prin-
cess Erda, in the palace garden, to-morrow evening,
e'er the sun shall sink to rest.

Spring. Well, Sisters mine, shall we accept the
invitation?

Summer. It will give us pleasure, will it not, to
serve so good a King and Queen?

Autumn. Indeed, we shall be glad to serve the
court. Besides, of all the world, we love a baby best.

(Winter enters from the back, and remains in back-
ground, unseen by rest. She is plainly in a rage.)

Spring. Come, then, let 's write our answer to
Their Majesties, and we must consider well our gifts.

(As they turn, they see Fairy Winter, and step to
right of center.)

Winter. (Coming forward, to Page) How, now,
did Their Majesties send me no invitation?

Page (shivering as though cold). No, Madam, not
by me.

Winter. Then they will regret it.

(Three Fairies come forward anxiously.)

Spring (pleadingly) . Oh, Cousin, you will not
cause any trouble. Surely the King and Queen did
but forget. They have so much upon their minds at
present.

Winter. No, not I. 'T is not the first time the
court has slighted me; but I can promise this, 't will
be the last.

Three Fairies (in chorus, shaking heads sadly).
Oh, dear! Oh, deary me!

Spring. But always, Cousin, you have shown your-
self so disagreeable at court; perhaps they fear you
now.

Winter. And well they may. They '11 have good
cause for fear. (Exit.)

Autumn. How cross she is ! She '11 cause serious
trouble, too, I know.

Spring. Let us then keep watch of her. Be ready
to undo the harm. Come, to send our answers to the
court.

(As they dance off, curtain falls)

ACT II

(Palace garden. Two chairs to the left. Trumpet-
call. Music. Enter from left and back, Page, Lords,
and Ladies, one carrying the baby Princess — a large
doll. Procession to right ; stand in semi-circle facing
the chairs. Pause. Enter King and Queen, who walk
in front of Lords and Ladies, and take their places
in front of chairs. They bow in return to the bozvs
and courtesies of the court. King and Queen sit
down. Lady places baby in Queen's arms. Music
ceases. )

Queen. Of all the babies ever born, this is the
sweetest.

jc2c

Winter (violently enraged). I like not to be for-
gotten. Their Majesties must be taught a lesson.
Ne'er shall they forget that they 've forgotten me.

Summer. I know they did not mean an insult. Do,
I beg, forgive the seeming injury.

Lords and Ladies. (To one another) The sweet-
est baby ever born.
First Lady. Such soft and silken hair.
Second Lady. A rosebud for a mouth.
Thtrd Lady. Her dimpled hands are soft as satin.

^^^H

550

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

[April,

ACT*! V^voY-Stowr* hot>psr!&h

& ^^Eg^fe

-4<»Lfe

Fourth Lady. Her eyes a heavenly blue.

King (rising). Come, my Lords, pledge allegiance
to Her Royal Highness.

Lords. Sire, with right good will.

(Music. Each Lord in turn kneels before the baby
with his sword drawn, kisses her hand, and returns
to his place, walking backzoard. As last does so, the
music changes to a waits movement, and first three

^CTm.SLEEP-PI^.TITONe- JSLa

Fairies dance in. They courtesy to the King and
Queen.)

King and Queen. Fairies, you are welcome.

Fairies. Your Majesties, we thank you.

Autumn (stepping forward). Graciously permit
us to bestow upon the baby the gifts which we have
brought. (Touches baby with wand) With beauty I
endow thee. Beauty not alone of face and form, but
loveliness of soul I give thee, so thou shalt be beloved
of all the world. (Steps back.)

Summer. Wisdom is my gift, O Little One; men
shall not love thee merely, they shall seek thee out
that they may learn the wondrous secrets hidden in
thy heart. (Steps back.)

(Dreary strain of music. Winter enters unnoticed,
and remains in background, close to entrance, until
Spring begins to speak, zvhen she moves a little for-
ward and to the right.)

Spring. And I— but who comes?

(Winter moves slowly forward, but keeps to the
right. ' Every one except Fairies shiver with cold.
Baby cries out. Tzvo Lords attempt to bar her en-
trance with crossed swords.)

Winter (contemptuously). Do you think to pre-
vent me with your swords? My Lords, I am a fairy.

King. (To Lord who stands close to him) Who
is this?

Lord (very earnestly). 'T is the Fairy Winter,
Your Majesty. Send her quickly hence. Where'er
she goes, she causes darkness, gloom. The flowers
fade at her approach. Birds fly away in terror to
escape her. Wild beasts seek their holes. Bid her
be gone, I beg you, for her coming bodeth ill.

King. That I cannot do upon this day of days.
Madam, I know you not, yet, for the Princess's sake,
I bid you welcome.

Winter. You know me not? That is passing
strange. But Your Majesty shall know me. I was
not bidden to the christening feast as were these, my
cousins—

Queen. The slight was unintentional. I do assure
you, Madam.

Winter. Yet I came, and I also brought a gift.

I9'3-]

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

551

{Touches baby with wand; other Fairies look on
anxiously.)

Winter. Thou, Princess Erda, wilt grow up beau-
tiful and wise according to my cousins' wishes. But
when thou art become a lovely maiden, thou shalt
(slowly) one day thrust into thy hand a needle, and
(very slowly and very impressively) THOU SHALT
SURELY—

(Great excitement. Queen hands baby to King, and
faints in her chair. Ladies tremble. Lords draw
swords, and step forward threateningly. 'Spring
jumps forward and interrupts Winter just in time.)

Spring. STOP! 'T is fortunate, indeed, I had not
time to speak before you came, my cousin. Little
Princess (touches her with wand), it must be, alas,
even as my cousin said. Thou wilt, indeed, thrust a

(Procession off stage. King and Queen, Fairies,
Lords and Ladies.)

(curtain)

ACT III

(A garret. Winter disguised as old woman by means
of long, dark cape. Sits sewing on a square of tar-
latan, on which has been pasted cotton to represent a
house covered with snozv. Enter Princess, quite out
of breath. She is dressed in brown, decorated with
autumn leaves to represent the earth in the fall. She
wears one large, red rose, which is almost ready to
fall to pieces.)

Princess (shivering) . Ugh! it 's cold and dismal
up here. Why, good day, Granny.

needle into thy hand, BUT THOU SHALT NOT
PERISH. (Relief on every face; Queen opens
eyes.) Thou shalt only sleep awhile. (Soft music.)
And I do here decree that while thou sleepest, thou
shalt lovelier grow. And thou shalt dream of him,
the Shining Prince, until he comes to rescue thee, to
waken with his kiss.

Winter. And so I am frustrated ! Yet I do not
greatly care. It were a pity to lose so fair a child.
Perhaps the long sleep will be sufficient punishment,
and teach this court 't is never safe to slight a fairy.
(Exit.)

Queen (quite recovered, rising). Thank you.
Fairy, for your timely aid. But oh, alas! my daugh-
ter needs must sleep — for who knows how long?
(Takes baby from King.)

King. I do hereby command that every needle be
destroyed throughout my broad domain. Page (Page
stands before him), send forth heralds to proclaim
my will. (Page bows and goes off.) Be comforted,
my Queen, how can our daughter prick her finger?

Lords and Ladies (happily). That is true, how
can she, when all needles are destroyed?

King. And now, good Fairies, my Lords and
Ladies, let 's hasten to the feast; forget the evil
prophecy, and make merry all.

Winter (in voice of old woman). Good day, Prin-
cess.

Princess (clapping her hands)* Do you know,
Granny, I 'm having such fun. I have run away, and
the whole court is searching for me. I wanted to see
what was hidden up here. What are you doing,
Granny? What is that tiny sharp thing in your
hand ?

Winter. 'T is a needle, child. See, I put it in
(slowly) and draw it out, so. It leaves a pretty pic-
ture on the cloth. (Holds it up.)

Princess (delightedly). How very interesting!
Good Granny, do give me leave to try.

Winter (rising). Certainly, my child, sit here.
(Princess seats herself in the chair and takes the

552

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

sewing.) I will teach you to embroider to your
heart's content.

(Princess handles the needle very awkwardly,
Winter bends over as if to help her.)

Princess {slozvly and in a vexed tone). It is n't
so easy as it did appear. There, I think I 'II not
work longer now. Oh ! oh ! I 've pricked my fin-
ger. See, it bleeds ! Oh ! oh ! oh ! (Falls back in
the chair asleep.)

(Winter laughs softly. Throws off her cape, and
waves wand over sleeping Princess. Music, "The
Last Rose of Summer." A fall of paper snow here is
effective, but unnecessary. Winter touches the rose,
and it falls to pieces.)

Winter (softly to the music accompaniment) . So
there, my Pretty One, sleep. Dream of the Prince if
you must, but sleep until he comes. I '11 see to it
that the time be long. Sleep! sleep! By my magic
I '11 waft you downward where sleeps the court.
'T will be a brave prince who '11 venture here when
I have done my best. Sleep, my Pretty One, sleep,
sleep.

(curtain)

ACT IV

(Woods. A bare tree or branch placed here and
there, and hung with cotton for snow. If possible,
stage should be unlighted throughout act, and a light
thrown on the actors from the hall as they move
about. This is easily managed in a house which has
electric lights, for a small reflector may be borrowed
zvithout difficulty. Gloomy music to suggest winter.
Winter enters, dancing. The dance is best left to the
child to originate. It should suggest the scattering of
snozv, the rush of wind which blozvs the trees about,
and the mischievous joy of the Fairy in her zvork.
When she has danced off the stage, the Shining
Prince enters. As he represents the sun, his costume
should be as bright and sparkling as possible.)

Prince (mournfully). This is the gloomiest spot
I ever chanced upon. For weeks, I 've wandered
here, and seen no waking thing. No birds to charm
me with their songs, no flowers to cheer with fra-
grance sweet. The bare trees nod and whisper in
their dreams, but I hear no murmuring brooks or
waterfalls. Wild beasts meet I none. There 's some
enchantment here. (Determinedly) But lonely
though it be (drazus szvord), dangerous though it
prove, I '11 press on, and if I can, I '11 break the spell
that holds all life asleep. 'T would be a joyous deed
to rouse this gloomy forest into gladsome life again.
(Penetrates through forest to back of stage.)

(curtain)

ACT V

(Palace garden. At center of background, Princess
lies asleep on a couch. She is covered with a blanket
of snow so that only her face is visible. The King
and Queen are asleep in their chairs. The Page lies
on the ground at the King's feet. The Lords and
Ladies are all asleep in various attitudes to the right.
Stage is quite dark; brightens gradually as Prince
enters. Mournful music, changing to something
bright and springlike. When the Princess awakes, all

the light is turned on. The music suggests the calls
of birds.)

(Prince enters from front right follozvcd by
Spring, zvho remains shyly in the background. Looks
about him zvondcringly.)

Prince. A court asleep ! King, Queen, and cour-
tiers. 'T is plain that s:me enchanter here hath cast
his spell. (Catches sight of Princess, tiptoes to
couch, and stands beside her.) The loveliest maide.i
ever seen ! Why does she sleep ? Oh, waken, Lady
Fair, and speak to me. I pray you waken! (Gesture
of despair.) What shall I do, she sleepeth still?
(He looks at her a long time, bends closer and closer,
finally drops on one knee, end kisses her.)

(Every one stirs and slowly azvakens. Fairy Spring
produces the transformation in the scenery. Princess,
in dress of green, with flowers, slozvly arises, keeping
her eyes fixed on the Prince, who looks at her. To-
gether they throzv back the snozv covering, shozving
the other side covered with flowers. They cast it
onto the couch.)

Princess (softly). 'T is the Shining Prince of
my dreams. (Prince and Princess continue to gasc
at each other.)

King. (Regarding the Prince with astonishment.
to Page) Who is the noble stranger? Why did you
not announce him?

Page (rubbing his eyes sleepily). Indeed, Your
Majesty, I did not hear him enter. I think I was
asleep.

Queen. I, too, feel strangely drowsy; have I had a
nap?

Prince. That you have, Gracious Queen, you and
all your court. I doubt not a spell was cast upon
you here.

Princess (coming forward and speaking dream-
ily). I do remember now. I pricked my finger with
a needle which an ancient dame did give to me. At
once my eyelids closed, but yet I heard her murmur,
"Sleep until the Shining Prince shall come." (Turns
and courtesies to Prince, who makes her a lozu bow.)
And that is you, I thank you, sir.

King. T is the evil prophesy fulfilled.

Queen. It must be so. But the long sleep is over,
waking-time has come. Our daughter lives, and is
more beautiful than ever. Let us thank the noble
Prince (courtesies to him) who has brought us joy,
and let us celebrate with song and dancing.

Prince. But first I must ask permission to wed
this lovely maid whom I awakened.

King and Queen. We give permission gladly, if
the maid herself consents.

Prince. What say you, Lovely Princess, will you
marry me?

Princess. I will, O Shining Prince.

(Spring crozens them with flozvers. Prince kneels
and kisses Princess's hand. Wedding march. Pro-
cession about stage, Prince and Princess, King and
Queen, Lords and Ladies, forming themselves in sets
for the minuet. Then two other Fairies dance in and
take their places on the couch, where they keep time
to music with zcands. Dance one figure of minuet.
If " children find this too difficult, the simpler and
more lively lancers may be substituted.)

(At conclusion of the dance, all the actors group
themselves on the stage and make their final bozv to
the audience.)

(curtain)

From a Copley print, copyright by Curtis & Cameron, I

SUPPER." — PAINTED BY ERNEST FOSBERY.

Vol. XL — 70

Tke Pm

Nicest! laee
tkeWorlcl

Katharine L.E<laerl^

The sun was shining down
through the trees on Little
Brother Rabbit and Grandma

Badger.

She was telling him
it was all about the

"S.A-HA1KER-

a story ;

Nicest Place in the World.
Pretty soon, Grandma Badger's
head began to nod, and it nod-
ded, and nodded, and nodded,

until it nodded itself right into Sleepy Land. Then Little Brother Rabbit got
up and stretched himself; then he hopped off, looking very busy. Pretty soon,
whom should he meet but Friend 'Possum, who said to him: "Where are you
going, Little Brother Rabbit?"

" I 'm going to look for the Nicest Place in the Wrorld," said he.
" Is n't that a long way off?" said Friend 'Possum.
" I don't care," said Little Brother Rabbit.

"Well, then, neither do I," said Friend 'Possum; "I 'm going too."
So they hopped along, and they ran along, until they met Neighbor Bluebird,
who said: "Where are you going, Friend 'Possum?"

" I 'm going with Little Brother Rabbit." /"

"Where are you going, Little Brother Rabbit?"

" I 'm going to find the Nicest Place in the WTorld."
"Is n't that a long way off?" said Neighbor
Bluebird.

" I don't care," said Little Brother Rabbit.
" Nor I," said Friend 'Possum.
" Well, then, neither do I," said Neighbor Blue-
bird ; " I 'm going too."

So they hopped along, and they ran along, and
they flew along, until they came to the great big
black cave where Grandpa Bear lives. He was
sitting outside, enjoying the warm sun and the
smell of the pine-trees.
" Where are you going, children ?" said Grandpa Bear, in his kindly way.

554

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK

555

" I 'm going with Friend 'Possum," said Neighbor Bluebird.

"Where are you going, Friend 'Possum?"

" I 'm going with Little Brother Rabbit."

"Where are you going, Little Brother Rabbit?"

" I 'm going to find the Nicest Place in the World," said Little Brother Rab-
bit. " They say it is very far off. Do you know where it is?"

Grandpa Bear looked up at the sky, and saw that the sun was setting. Then
he looked at the ground, and saw that the shadows were growing longer. Then
he sniffed the air, and smelled night coming along ; so he said :

" Indeed I do; and it is n't far at all. You must walk to the big oak-tree on
the edge of the pond. Then walk to the little pine-tree at the beginning of the
road. Then walk to the middle-sized maple-tree at the foot of the hill, turn to
your right, and you '11 walk directly into the Nicest Place in the World."

is','? >§&i-v

So they hopped along, and they ran along, and they flew along, until they
came to the big oak-tree. And they hopped along, and they ran along, and they
flew along, until they came to the little pine-tree. And they hopped along, and
they ran along, and they flew along, until they came to the middle-sized maple-
tree. Then they turned to the right, and where do you think they were?

RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEIR OWN HOUSE!

Then Neighbor Bluebird looked at Friend 'Possum and laughed ; and Friend
'Possum looked at Little Brother Rabbit and laughed ; and Little Brother Rab-
bit looked at them both and laughed. Then he said: " Did n't Grandpa Bear
know, though? Home is the Nicest Place in the WTorld!"

EDITED BY EDWARD F.B/GELOW

WOHELO ! WOHELO !

It sounds like an Indian cry, but it is not. It is
a call made up of parts of three important Eng-
lish words, and is addressed to American girls of
the present time. This Wohelo, "Wo-he-lo," is a
new word composed of the first two letters of the
important watchwords of the Camp-Fire Girls

is the secret of the great success of the Camp-
Fire Girls. It combines the development of a
knowledge and love of nature with regard for
others.

The symbol of the Camp-Fire Girls is also ad-
mirable. It is fire, as one would naturally expect
from the term, and the fire means more than the
ordinary flame for cooking or heating. The in-

;rf.e is that of wood-gatherer.

— work, health, love, these really comprising
about all there is to life. The call, therefore, is
not only euphonious, but is followed by a long,
rolling echo when sung in the right tone where
the echoes live. Try it sometime on the bank of
a lake, in a valley, and hear the sound come
ringing back from the rugged hills in a hearty
response from old Mother Nature, reciprocating
your desire to work, to have health, and to let
your whole life be permeated by a spirit of lov-
ing, kindly regard for your associates. Therein

tense heat of fire is a symbol of enthusiasm.
Anything that is worth doing at all is worth do-
ing well and heartily. We are inspired to good
works by seeing the work of others, and here is
the first step in the life of a Camp-Fire Girl.
She never finds the fire ready-made. She must
learn to be independent of every one else. The
first degree is that of wood-gatherer, and the em-
blem, crossed logs. She must go alone when the
others go, each into her own section of the
woods, to find her contribution to the general

556

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

557

"THE GIRLS STAND IN A CIRCLE AROUND THE GATHERED FAGOTS."

fire. Each has her own field to glean from and
to develop. But while she is working in her own
part of the field, others are working elsewhere.
She strives to excel, and so do they, a commenda-
ble preliminary to the fire-building, which typifies
the work of life.

Having brought the symbols to one common
social center, they cannot fail to have impressed
upon their minds the advantages of cooperation,
and that any community, even the world itself, is,
after all, only a unit. It is one fire from the con-
tributions of many workers.

When the wood-gatherer has fulfilled these
duties for a period of not less than three months,

she advances to the next degree, that of fire-
maker. While she is merely a wood-gatherer,
she expresses her desire as follows:

" Seek beauty.
Give service.
Pursue knowledge.
Be trustworthy.
Hold on to health.
Glorify work.
Be happy."

But after a candidacy of three months, satis-
factory to the Guardians, she is permitted to be-
come a fire-maker, and then no longer does she
have isolated work, but joins with others in the

AROUND THE FIRE — "SO SHE TAKES SOME OF THIS FIRE AND CARRIES IT TO OTHERS.

558

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[April,

common desire to build a fire. The girls stand
in a circle around the gathered fagots, hold their
hands aloft, and repeat the fire-maker's desire:

"As fuel is brought to the fire,
So I purpose to bring
My strength,
My ambition,
My heart's desire,
My joy,

And my sorrow,
To the fire
Of humankind.
For I will tend,
As my fathers have tended,
And my fathers' fathers,
Since time began,
The fire that is called
The love of man for man,
The love of man for God."

But after she lias brought her own life of in-
dividual service into union with that of her asso-

A TYPICAL CAMP-FIRE GIRL AND HF.R COSTUME.

ciates, she and the others must not be content
with their own selfish enjoyment of even the
most picturesque fire, or of the ardor of enthusi-
asm. She must make that fire beneficial and help-
ful to others in their work. She must be a hu-
manitarian, and do missionary work for the good
of others. So she takes some of this fire and
carries it to others, and then, having become a
torch-bearer, she expresses her desire in the fol-
lowing words :

"That light which has been given to me,
I desire to pass undimmed to others."

She is now next to the Guardian, and must be
trustworthy, happy, unselfish, a good leader, a
good "team worker," and liked by the other girls.
There is one pretty symbolism in the building of
the fire that not only brings to us the picturesque
primitive methods of the Indians, but carries a
lesson with it. The fire, as the instruction book
says, "may be started with matches, but better
still it may be started with the rubbing of sticks.
If directions are carefully followed, it is not diffi-
cult to learn this method of starting" a fire." The
management wisely recommends this Indian
method, which not only takes the girls and the
bystanders back to primitive days, but impresses
this important lesson : do not wait to be led ; do
not wait for somebody to inspire you. Create
your own original fire of enthusiasm. There are
many young people, and older ones too, I fear,
who are ready to follow, but slow to originate.
They wait till somebody else coaxes and urges or
inspires them. This is not the best method. The
fire of enthusiasm should be developed by one's
own personal efforts. It is, therefore, wisely di-
rected that this fire in the woods of the Camp-
Fire Girls shall, if possible, be started by individ-
ual effort, not with borrowed fire or even with
matches, for that symbolizes some one else's
work. But what, after all, is the ardor of enthu-
siasm worth if it does not lead to loftier, spirit-
ual ideals? So the ode sung by the girls standing
around the fire leads their thoughts to the Infinite.

"ODE TO FIRE
"Oh Fire !

Long years ago, when our fathers fought with great

animals, you were their protection.
From the cruel cold of winter, you saved them.
When they needed food, you changed the flesh of beasts

into savory meat for them.
During all the ages, your mysterious flame has been a

symbol to them for Spirit.
So (to-night) we light our fire in remembrance of the

Great Spirit who gave you to us."

After roll-call, reports, bestowing of honors,
initiation of new members, songs, toasts, or any
other part of the program, the girls rise and re-
peat in unison :

" Burn, fire, burn !
Flicker, flicker, flame !
Whose hand above this blaze is lifted
Shall be with magic touch engifted
To warm the hearts of lonely mortals
Who stand without their open portals.
The torch shall draw them to the fire
Higher, higher,
By desire.

Whoso shall stand by this hearthstone,
Flame-fanned,

Shall never, never stand alone ;
Whose house is dark, and bare, and cold,

T913-]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

559

SOME OF THE MEMBERS OF THE MYNAH CAMP-FIKE.

Whose house is cold, this is his own.
Flicker, flicker, flicker, flame;
Burn, fire, burn ! "

The fire is then extinguished, and the hearth
left in order, to symbolize that, from the hearth
of interest in the activities of life, we may attain
the best results by storing away in our heart the
unseen fire of spiritual desire that shall animate
and permeate our life, and inspire it to higher
ideals.

What are these higher ideals ? Certainly it is
the first of Wohelo— our work. In a ceremony
of lighting three candles where one stands for
work, one for health, and one for love, the Camp-
Fire Girl light one candle and repeats the fol-
lowing :

" I light the light of Work, for Wohelo means work."

After the candle is lighted, she says :

" Wohelo means work.

We glorify work because through work we are free.

We work to win, to conquer, to be masters.

We work for the joy of working, and because we are
free.
Wohelo means work."

She then retires, and her place is taken by a
second girl, who comes forward and says, in ref-
erence to the spirit of health :

" I light the light of Health, for Wohelo means health."

After lighting the candle, she says :
" Wohelo means health.

We hold on to health, because through health we serve

and are happy.
In caring for the health and beauty of our persons, we
are caring for the very shrine of the Great Spirit.
Wohelo means health."

A third comes forward and lights the candle of

love, and says :

"I light the light of Love, for Wohelo means love."

And as it burns, she adds :

" Wohelo means love.

We love Love, for love is life, and light, and joy, and

sweetness.
And love is comradeship, and motherhood, and father-
hood, and all dear kinship.
Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.
Wohelo means love."

While the candles of work and health and

560

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

[April,

love are slowly burning, these two stanzas are
sung :

" Lay me to sleep in sheltering flame,
O Master of the Hidden Fire.
Wash pure my heart, and cleanse for me
My soul's desire.

" In flame of sunrise bathe my mind,
O Master of the Hidden Fire,
That, when I wake, clear-eyed may be
My soul's desire."

The practical things of the Camp-Fire Girls
are as commendable as the symbolisms and ideals.
They include a long list of health-giving activi-
ties pertaining to regularity of school or other

methods for erecting and keeping the tent, se-
lecting a proper location, making a shelter and a
bed of material found in the woods, making a bed
on the ground and sleeping on it out-of-doors for
five nights, doing for one day camp cooking for
four or more persons without help or advice.
This includes getting wood and making an open
fire. One must know Weather Lore, how to fol-
low the trail, to tie knots in strings and ropes, to
do clay modeling, brasswork, silver work, dyeing,
basketry, wood-carving, carpentry, textile work.
The girls are also instructed in business, and
thoroughly trained in patriotism, including the
proper celebration of all the principal holidays;

CAMP-FIRE GIR

FRONT OF ONE OF THE TENTS OF T]

IR ENCAMPMENT.

work, diet, sleep, games, athletics of a wide vari-
ety of interests. The Home Craft includes mar-
keting, washing and ironing, housekeeping, in-
venting methods for doing better work, of enter-
taining members of the family, and caring for the
little folks.

Under "Nature Lore," there are the identifica-
tion and description of fifteen trees, keeping rec-
ords of outings, doing work in the garden, learn-
ing the planets and seven constellations with their
stories, identifying a large number of birds, keep-
ing bird books, making notes, providing lunch-
counters, etc. There are further requirements in
connection with the identification of wild flowers,
caring for a hive of bees for a season, learning
the habits of honey-bees, and making careful
study of four-footed animals.

Naturally, the Camp-Fire Girls should under-
stand Camp Craft, and they have a long list of

they are taught the conservation of streams,
birds, trees, forests: the beautifying of front
yards, and a knowledge of the history of the
country.

They are to attend religious services ten times
in three months, and to give brief accounts of
what has been done in the world of religious
work.

Patriotism is united With religion, and they are
required to commit to memory Lincoln's Gettys-
burg Address, the preamble to the Constitution,
and to the Declaration of Independence, and also
one hundred verses of the Bible, or stanzas of
hymns or other sacred literature. So the pursuits
of the Camp-Fire Girls comprise all that makes
life really worth living. Long may echo the call
of Wohelo to inspire thousands and thousands of
girls in outdoor activities in personal improve-
ment, and in helpfulness to others.

I9'3-]

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

561

A WASP SUSPENDS A SPIDER IN THE FORK names, usually in the Latin, are still retained to
OF A WEED designate the various groups of stars in the hea-

T have noted that the digger-wasp (Pompilus), vens- Thus- Leo is the lion, Ursa Major the big
when it has captured and killed a spider, hangs
it in a fork of a weed, evidently to keep it from
marauding ants. Sportsmen do the same thing

Alzubra.

A WASP SUSPENDING A SPIDER.

with game to prevent wolves, racoons, bear, and
other animals from reaching it. I have done it
many times in the South and Southwest. This
illustrates, as much as anything I have ever seen,
an insect trait that is very nearly, if not quite,
within the scope of what we may call insect in-
telligence.—S. Frank Aaron.

THE "LION" IN THE SKY

At about nine o'clock in the evening, at the be-
ginning of April, if you will look at the sky to-
ward the south, you will see a group of bright
stars in the form of a sickle, and another group
to the east of it in the form of a right-angled tri-
angle. The very bright star at the eastern point
of the triangle is Denebola. The bright star at the
end of the "handle" of the sickle is Regulus. In
olden times, people fancied that the stars in this
vicinity formed the figure of a lion.

Modern charts of the stars do not show the pic-
turesque beasts, birds, men, and women, as fan-
cied by the early star-gazers, but the ancient
Vol. XL.— 71.

Oenebo/a.'fa V^x +Chort j/ # , J/TiW

THE FANCIED FIGUKE OF A LION.

bear, Coma Berenices, Queen Berenice's hair, etc.
North of Leo is Leo Minor— the little lion.

The most beautiful stars to be seen in the month
of April are in this vicinity. But beautiful as they
are to the unaided eyes, you will find that a strong
field-glass or even an ordinary opera-glass will
make them still more so, and will also reveal
hundreds of "small" bright stars in Coma Bere-
nices.

Westward from the sickle is a small closely
clustered group of "small" stars known as the

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^TER

A MAP OF LEO A1,D SURROUNDING CONSTELLATIONS.

beehive (Prcesepe). We have not located it on
the map, leaving to you the pleasant surprise of
finding it, by carefully "sweeping" the sky west-
ward and not very far away from the sickle.

yHH^^^HHHHH

562

NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS

^"BECAUSE- WE
(WANT TO KNOW"

seeing color with the eyes closed

Sharon, Conn.
Dear St. Nicholas: Can you please tell me why, when
you close your eyes, you see colors ? I would love to know.

Yours as ever,

Eleanor Carse.

There are several reasons: (i) Considerable
light really passes through the closed lids, as
through an egg-shell. Under some circumstances
the long waves of the red end of the spectrum
would be the only ones which would get through
and make an impression upon the retina. (2)
Sometimes the color of an object makes a distinct
impression upon the retina, but we do not con-
sciously distinguish it unless the eyes are closed,
and conflicting color impressions shut off. (3) In
some forms of indigestion poisons in the circula-
tion may stimulate the cells of the retina to sug-
gest color— more likely from the violet end of the
spectrum. (4) A sudden hard blow upon the head
may excite the cells of the retina to the point of
suggesting color. (5) Some drugs have the effect
of making one see a certain color, and this may
persist with the eyes closed — santonin, for exam-
ple, makes one see yellow. (6) There are other
reasons, too, but they would require technical ex-
planation.—R. T. M.

causes of thunder and lightning

New York City.
Dear St. Nicholas: Would you please tell me what
causes thunder-storm and lightning ?

Yours respectfully.

Elsie Friedman.

The thunder-storm is caused mainly by the vio-
lent upward rush of moist air. As the weight
of the atmosphere is greater at the surface of
the earth than it is in the higher regions, this
moist air has less weight to bear as it rises. It
then expands, and the cooler upper air cools it,
and condenses some of its moisture into drops of
rain. These drops are united, and torn apart
again, and so tossed about by the wind, especially
by the upward currents that continually arrive,
that the rubbing, and tearing, and friction set
free what is called frictional electricity. When
this process has gone far enough, a sudden dis-
charge of the electricity takes place, and we say,
"It lightens."

The atmosphere along the path of this dis-
charge is violently agitated, and the waves of
pressure that travel out in every direction from

each disturbed region produce the roar and rum-
ble of the thunder.— Willis L. Moore, Chief
U. S. Weather Bureau.

the number of eggs in a quail's nest

Falmouth Heights, Mass.
Dear St, Nicholas: I would like to know how many
eggs there may be in a quail's nest. I ask you this because

A quail's nest.

my father found a quail's nest in the fifth hole of the
Woods Hole Golf Course, Woods Hole, Massachusetts.
It had fourteen eggs in it.

Your loving reader, Helen F. Smith (age 9).

The usual number of eggs laid by a quail is
from ten to eighteen, though sometimes a nest
has been known to have as many as twenty-five.

wheels in moving pictures running backward

Reno, Nev.
Dear St. Nicholas: Flease tell me, through "Nature
and Science," why wheels on a wagon in moving pictures
appear to be moving slowly the wrong way.

Your interested reader, Paul Hakwood (age 13).

In turning the handle of a moving-picture cam-
era to take the first picture, if the operator turns
at a very much slower rate of speed than he
should, and if the operator of the projection
machine, who throws the picture on the screen,
turns the handle of his machine at a greater rate
of speed, the result will be that the wheels of the
vehicle will appear to be turning the wrong way.
This is one of the many means that the moving-
picture camera man uses to get some of the re-
sults seen in so-called trick pictures. For in-
stance, by reversing, they can show people diving
or jumping upward, or show a broken tray of
dishes come together again and going back into
the hands of the person that dropped the tray.
Any of the reliable books on moving-picture cam-
era work will explain a number of these appar-
ently mystifying results. — "The Moving Picture
World," J. Wylie.

^ICHOLA

That fine saying, "All for
each and each for all," might
well be the motto of the
various guilds of League
competitors. There is only
the friendliest of rivalries.
All have done well, and all
rejoice in the achievements of
those who have done best.
With this spirit of mutual pride and fellowship animat-
ing equally the young artists, writers, and photographers,
it is good, indeed, to see how Fortune approves by favoring
each in turn. Two months ago, the young poets forged
decidedly ahead ; last month, they held even place in the
van with the young artists ; and this time it is to the
knights of the camera that we must unhesitatingly accord

J*£r£

)

the highest honors.
For the fact is, they
simply swept everything before them! There was magic in
that subject " My Best Photograph," or else it was, as the
boys say, "too easy." The photographic triumphs of boys
and girls came pouring in by dozens and scores, by tens and
twenties and hundreds! And as to selecting the very best
from all these "best" — well, we have conscientiously tried
to do our best, and that is all we can say. This surging tide
of photographs has made the League pages overflow their
usual limits by two full pages, and could easily have filled
ten pages more.

But you will find plentv of good verse and prose inter-
spersed among the pictures. And next month it will be
the prose-writers' turn, or the young artists', to swing
into the lead — " All for each and each for all!"

PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 158

In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered.

PROSE. Gold badge, Claire H. Roesch (age 15), Philadelphia, Pa.

Silver badges, Mabelle Louise Piaget (age 11), Upper Montclair, N. J. ; Elizabeth L. Baker (age 15), Sioux Falls,

S. Dak. ; Raymond Gage (age 14), Wenonah, N. J. ; Grace C. Freese (age 14), South Framingham, Mass. ; Helen

Haynie (age 14), Newton Center, Mass. ; Robert Wormser (age 12), San Rafael, Cal.

VERSE. Gold badge, Nellie Adams (age 14), Fayetteville, Ark.

Silver badges, Ruth G. Merritt (age 15), Riverside, 111. ; Mazie La Shelle (age 15), Greenwich, Conn. ; Adrienne

Wilkes (age 15), Waco, Tex.

DRAWINGS. Gold badge, Rebekah Howard (age 15), Pittsburgh, Pa.

Silver badges, Edgar Miller (age 13), Idaho Falls, Idaho ; Mabel Maxwell Coutts (age 16), Brooklyn, N. Y. ; Jessie

E. Alison (age 14), Brookline, Mass.

PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badge, Carol Clark (age 15), Boston, Mass.

Silver badges, Ruth H. Cutting (age 17), New York City ; James Stokley (age 12), West Philadelphia, Pa. ; Martina

Flygare (age 15), Westfield. N. J. ; Clara Fredericks (age 13), Tompkinsville, N. Y. ; Christina C. McMurtrie (age

ib), Montclair, N. J. ; Wadleigh Barton (age 14), Omaha, Neb. ; Horton H. Honsaker (age 14), Pasadena, Cal. ;

Dorothy E. Bayles (age 17), Detroit, Mich. ; Louise Valentine (age 14), New York City; Elizabeth F. Cornell (age

12), Attleboro, Mass. ; Amy Jackson (age lb), River Forest, 111. ; Betty Lowe (age 13), Aurora-on-Cayuga, N. Y. ;

Edwin H. Thomas (age 15;, Wilmington, Del.

PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badge, Phebe Ann Richmond (age 12), Providence, R. I.

PUZZLE ANSWERS. Silver badge, Edith H. Baumann (age 16), New York City.

MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH. BY RUTH H.

CUTTING, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.)

MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH. BY MARGARET HINDS,

AGE 15.

563

'MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH. I

ELEANOR FOSTER, AGE 13.

iK^

564

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[April,

'MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH. BY ABRAM LE BARON GURNEY, AGE 13.

THE STORY OF THE GATE

BY MAYBELLE LOUISE PIAGET (AGE II)

(Silver Badge)
It was Hallowe'en, and everybody was taking every-
thing indoors so they would n't fall into the hands of
nv'schievous boys.

Farmer Brown had four of his bean-poles chopped
down the year before, so he said he would "set out on
the stoop an' smoke his pipe, an' keep them pesterin'
children away."

That night, while he was sitting on the porch in front
of his house, smoking, he began to nod, and the chil-

'MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH. BY MARTINA FLYGARE, AGE I5.

(SILVER BADGE.)

dren, thinking he was fast asleep, came running down
the lane toward the farm.

In the dim starlight they could n't be seen plainly.

MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH. ' BY JAMES STOKI.EY, AGE 12.
(SILVER BADGE.)

"Say ! Let 's put Brown's gate on Henk's fence, and
bring Henk's and put it on Brown's," said a boy.

"Yes," said another ; "won't it be funny to see

"MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH." BY CLARA FREDERICKS, AGE 13.
(SILVER BADGE.)

Henk's green gate on Brown's red fence, and Brown's
red gate on Henk's green fence !"

They got the gate off, and disappeared around the
corner to go to Henk's farm.

In about fifteen minutes, they came back, bearing a
green gate.

Nobody would know the difference of color on that
dark night.

Just as they got Henk's gate on Brown's fence, there
came a loud, harsh, "Hey, there !" from the porch.

"Skidoo !" said a boy. "It 's Farmer Brown !"

They all scampered up the lane.

Farmer Brown came down off the porch and saw the
gate, and thought it was his own red one.

"They almost got it !" he chuckled.

The next day, Farmer Brown got ready for church.
As he opened the door, he spied the green gate.

He said : "Them rascals ! Oh, never mind ! I '11
ketch 'em next year, sure !"

But he did n't!

I9I3-]

MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH"

565

LAUTERBRUNNEN, SWITZERLAND. THE VALLEY OF THE TEN PEAKS. BY CHRISTINA C. MC MURTR1E, THE JUNGFRAU. BY VIRGINIA

BY EDITH R. BALDWIN, AGE 12. AGE 16. (SILVER BADGE.) NIRDLINGER, AGE 14.

THE MOUNTAIN STREAM. BY THE MATTERHORN. BY CAROL CLARK, AGE 15. GOLD BADGE.

PHOEBE GORDEN, AGE 14.

(SILVER BADGE WON SEPT., 1912.)

THE YOSEMITE. BY BENJAMIN
R. KITTREDGE, AGE 12.

p-— -

W^L ¥

bS'*^

V * .»- Sf- Aft«

IJKhi

<• . f^r

>fc^ ,,,

A FAMILY TREE. BY WADLEIGH

BARTON, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)

THE BROOK. BY ELEANOR WHITE, AGE 15.
(HONOR MEMBER.)

A GLACIAL TORRENT. BY BEATRICE B.
BUSH, AGE 17.

566

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[April,

BY BEATRICE APGAR, AGE 15.

BY GEORGE E. WALRATH, AGE 14.

BY HORTON H. HONSAKER, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.)

"MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH."

BY ALICE REQUA, AGE 12.

THE STORY OF THE GATE

BY CLAIRE H. ROESCH (AGE 1 5)

Gold Badge. (Silver Badge won November, 19 n)
The Emperor Constantine's gate is built of stone, won-
derfully carved with beautiful statues and relief-works
of a pale yellow color. It is quite high, and wide
enough for the gay chariots of long ago to pass under
it, which they did, so many, many times.

I can imagine it looking down upon a vast crowd of
people, surging to the races or into and out of the city.
I can see their many-hued gowns fluttering in the
wind ; their faces, some gay, some sad ; some frowning,
and some laughing. Beautiful women, with their per-
fect statuesque forms and carriage, and their deep, dark
eyes. Girls bearing water-jars supported on their heads
and held in place by a white, rounded arm. And youths,
of supple, graceful limbs, speeding under its massive
arches in some foot-race, or loitering beneath its shade
to see their lady-loves pass by. Grave senators, with
their trailing togas, ponderous, stately, and silent,
brooding over some case of the tribunal, or conversing
eagerly with a fellow-senator. Children, presenting the
happy, light side of the scene, sporting beneath its col-
umns, and receiving the echo of their laughter from
its high, arching sides. And then a rumble sounding
along the streets, when a chariot passes through, drawn
by four swift coursers, with foaming flanks and wind-
blown manes.

But now, all, all, are gone. Dost thou'' remember, O
gate, standing now so silent and so still? Didst thou
wonder at the gay processions that passed beneath thee,
— or dost thou wonder more at the tourists of to-day?
How old thou art ! But still older shalt thou grow, and

when this generation, too, is gone, thou shalt live on,
and we shall join the throng of silent ghosts that linger
beneath thy portals.

DAWN

BY RUTH G. MERRITT (AGE 1 5)

(Silver Badge)
The gloaming time is misty sweet,

When shadows fall o'er wood and lawn,
But, oh, there 's one hour I love best —

The dewy hour of dawn.

Night's shades and terrors all- have fled,
The great trees toss their arms on high ;

And, oh, my heart is like to burst,
So full of life and joy am I.

The world seems waiting breathlessly ;

The hour is nigh ; it seems to know
When once again life's miracle

Its charms across the sky will throw.

There ! see those rosy, wondrous lights
Which softly o'er the heavens creep,

Faint streaks of amethyst and pink, —
Oh, silent earth, how can you sleep?

But now the sun is fairly up,

The magic hour at last is gone ;
And once again day reigns supreme. —

Where art thou — mystic hour of dawn ?

I9I3-]

MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH"

567

THE CHURCH WINDOW. BY

MARGARET LEATHES,

AGE II.

BY THE RUSHING WATERS. BY DOROTHY E. BAYLES, AGE 17. VENICE. BY NANCY A. ELY,

(SILVER BADGE.) AGE 14.

A WINDING STREAM. BY BETTY LOWE, AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.)

PASTURE-LAND. BY HARRIET APEL, AGE 14.

9***4

t i

ROMAN RUINS. BY HELEN A FOOT-BALL SCRIMMAGE. BY LOUISE VALENTINE, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE.) THE LEANING TOWER. BY

WOODRUFF, AGE 12. CORINA ELY, AGE 15.

THE NATION'S CAPITOL. BY KATHERINE BEATTY, AGE 12.

SUMMER SPORT. BY MARGARET DEERING, AGE 14.

568

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[April,

DY CATHERINE TARR, AGE 14.

BY AMY JACKSON, AGE 16. (SILVER BADGE.)

BY ELIZABETH F. CORNELL, AGE 12. (SILVER BADGE.) BY EDWIN H. THOMAS, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)

"MY BEST PHOTOGRAPH."

THE STORY OF THE GATE

BY ELIZABETH L. BAKER (AGE 1 5)

{Silver Badge)
I am different from any other gate that there is any-
where, for J am the gate between fairy-land and earth.
Many, many fairies have passed through me ; perhaps
you have heard of some. And then there is Santa
Glaus, too, — I always look forward to the time when

lip

"A BIT OF LIFE." BY REBEKAH HOWARD, AGE 15. GOLD BADGE.
(SILVER BADGE WON JUNE, 1912.)

Santa Claus will pass through, for he is such a jolly,
merry old elf. I sometimes think I love the time best

when he passes on his way to earth with his sleigh full
of toys, but when I think of the time when he comes
back with his happy, satisfied smile. I think I like that
time the best.

Then, too, there is Jack Frost. He passes every night
in the autumn
and winter ; his
cold fingers some-
times make me
shiver, but. after
all, he is a good,
mischievous sort
of sprite.

There are also
the snow-fairies,
which I love very
much ; they pass
on their way to
earth, but, alas,
they never come
back again. I
often sigh when
I think of what
may await them on that strange earth.

There are the dew-fairies, which go to earth in the
summer and dance their merry dances in the night,
when all mortals are asleep. There are many other
fairies too, the star-fairies, the wood-nymphs, and
water-sprites.

Sometimes mortals have passed through into fairy-
land ; usually they have been children, although I do
remember a few instances of old, old people also.

BIT OF LIFE. BY EDGAR MILLER,

AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.)

The silver badge must be won before the gold one
can be awarded.

I9I3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

569

THE DAWN

BY NELLIE ADAMS (AGE 14)

Gold Badge, {Silver badge won September, 1912)
I lie and watch, thro' heavy mist,

The winking lights of Linden Town ;
Like dewdrops that the sun has kissed,
Like jewels in a crown.

I hear the wind pass thro' the trees
With many a weary moan and sigh ;

And in the road I hear the tramp
Of workmen passing by.

Over in some wild cedar-wood

Comes the first bird-note, faint and far ;

And in the unbroken solitude,
Twinkles the last pale star.

The mist grows thin and thinner still,
The winking lights are pale and drawn ;

One crimson streak above yon hill
Gives promise of the dawn.

peasant's cottage, in ignorance of his birth. He was
given only the barest necessities, but the country air
was so invigorating that he soon became as strong as
his father could have wished him to be. The peasant's
own children received most of the money sent by the
king.

One night, when he was about twenty years old, Her-
mius overheard the peasant and his wife talking about
him, and for the first time he knew who his real
parents were.

Hermius immediately sent word to the king, and told
him that he had just found out about his parentage.
He also said that he was perfectly well, and was very
anxious to see his father.

The king was overjoyed, and at once came to Her-
mius and told him to come to court.

As for the people, they begged the prince to wait till
they could show him more honor. He agreed, and they
built a beautiful gate ornamented with two stone lions.
Through this gate the prince passed when he came to
his kingdom.

Who knows but that this is the story of the Mycenaean
Gate of Lions lately discovered in Greece ?

TWO NATURAL GATES

BY RAYMOND GAGE (AGE 14)

(Silver Badge)
This story is not so much of one as of two gates, which
are known to the world as the Dardanelles and the
Bosporus. These natural gateways, or straits, as they
really are, connect the /Egean with the Black Sea, and
separate southern Europe from southern Asia.

These gates have been the scene of many a bitter
struggle between the representatives of the two great
streams of civilization, the east and the west.

Since the invasion of the Persian king, Darius I, on
Greece to the present war between Turkey and the
little Balkan States, these two small gates have wit-
nessed many a bloody struggle.

Coveted by all, and held by the little country of
Turkey, which is fast losing its power, the question is :
Will one of the great nations step in and seize these
great commercial highways, and, if so, which nation?

It has long been thought that Russia would do it.
Russia has no seaport open throughout the year, and
the Black Sea, her southern boundary, is controlled by
the gates. Russia's ships may pass through these straits'
only at the permission of Turkey. So it seems probable
that Russia will be the one to take the seizure of them
for herself.

THE STORY OF THE GATE

BY GRACE C. FREESE (AGE 14)

(Silver Badge)
Once upon a time, many years ago, there lived, in
Greece, King Marnus. He was very powerful, and his
only sorrow was that his son was sickly.

It was his own law that no sickly children should be
allowed to live in the city, since they wanted no weak
men or women.

The king was very fond of his son, but he knew that
the law must be enforced. Outside the city, he found a
peasant who agreed to bring up Prince Hermius for a
certain sum of money.

The people mourned publicly seven days for Her-
mius's supposed death.

Meanwhile, the little prince grew to manhood in the
Vol. XL.— 72.

THE STORY OF THE GATE

BY HELEN HAYNIE (AGE 14)

(Silver Badge)
Mine is not a garden gate, or a driveway gate ; indeed,
it is not a real gate at all. By that I mean it is not of
wood or iron, and that one cannot touch it ; but, in
spite of that, it is a gate through which every one
passes. Every one ?
Yes, every one, for
it separates two
great countries. On
the south, the sunny
side, is "Child-
hood," while the
northern country is
called "Grown-up
Land."
The
easily
south ;

gate swings
from the
but from
the north side, it
is always closed.
Hundreds of chil-
dren hurry through
its magic portals
every day, eager
for the charms be-
yond ; while many
others linger on its
threshold, filled with
a sudden fear of
the future, and a
half-longing to go
back to Childhood. But the crowd from behind pushes
them, and they are forced to wander on.

Very often they are as happy in Grown-up Land as
in Childhood, but sometimes there is one who, pressing
her face against the bars of the gate, cries in her heart,
"Oh ! why did I hurry from Childhood ? Why did I
not stay where I was happy?"

And the gate is sorry for these few, and would fain
let them depart into Childhood again. But it cannot,
for only from Childhood can the gate of adolescence
be opened, and the grown-ups can but look back.

A BIT OF LIFE.
AGE 16.

BY MABEL M. COUTTS,
(SILVER BADGE.)

570

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

[April,

THE DAWN

BY MAZIE LA SHELLE (AGE 1 5)

{Silver Badge)
When the darkest shadows fade away,
And there gleams the gold of the sun's first ray;
When the little stars twinkle, and then blow out
Like fairy candles, roundabout ;
When the purple hills in the distance are veiled with

rainbow hues,
Pale lavenders, soft yellows, enchanting pinks

and blues,
The wind makes music in the trees,
The flowers nod to a passing breeze,
And dew hangs heavy on leaf and flower ;
Hark ! a bird's sweet note, oh, magic hour !
The world is bathed in golden light, for night is gone,
And one and all we welcome — the dawn.

THE STORY OF THE GATE

BY ROBERT WORMSER (AGE 1 2)

(Silver Badge)
It is, indeed, the story of a gate I will tell ; the story
of the greatest gate ever built by man, a gate that will
bring commercial prosperity to many nations — the Pan-
ama Canal.

As early as the sixteenth century, the idea was con-
ceived of joining the two great oceans by a canal. But
the plan was dropped and forgotten until 1879, when
Ferdinand de Lesseps called a congress of nations in
Paris, and showed them the feasibility of cutting a
canal through some part of Central America. A com-
pany was immediately formed, the Panamanian route
chosen, and work begun. But because of lack of funds,
the project was soon abandoned.

In 1903, the United States leased, for a period of a
hundred years, from the newly established Republic of
Panama, a strip of land ten miles long and in breadth
some two miles. For this they paid an initial fee of
$10,000,000, and are to pay a rental fee of $250,000
every four years.

Over the entire strip the United States was given
full control, and before sending her workmen to the
Canal Zone, she improved the sanitary condition of the
country greatly.

In the fall of 1904, work on the canal was started,
and has been progressing with such wonderful rapidity
ever since, that, although the official opening will not
be until 1915, the actual work will be completed by the
end of 1913.

The man at the head of operations in the Canal Zone
is Colonel Goethals, and it is he who, in a great mea-
sure, has made the canal what it is.

THE STORY OF THE GATE

BY EDITH BALLINGER PRICE (AGE 1 5)

(Honor Member)
"Ugh !" said the old gate, as the butcher's boy slammed
it violently, and climbed, whistling, into his cart.

"I sha'n't last much longer if they rack my poor, old
bones with this perpetual slamming," and it sighed
creakily.

"Ah, me, how different it was in the old days! How
well I remember Miss Cynthia leaning out over me, in
the twilight, to watch for David, her gallant soldier-
lover. How dreamy were her gray eyes as she absently
twirled a blossom of the clematis vine, which, in those
days, made an arch over me. And, when he came, his
blue Federal uniform almost gray with dust, and his

'A BIT OF LIFE. BY ISABELLA

B. HOWLAND, AGE 17.

He says I am so nice to

horse, Nightwind, in a lather, how Miss Cynthia would
open me, and run out into the lane, to spend a few
happy minutes with the young captain, before he gal-
loped away again. Miss Cynthia must needs latch me
very tenderly as she came in, ah, yes !

"One day, they brought him in, wounded, our gallant
David. Never shall I forget the way Miss Cynthia
turned as white as my new coat of paint, and leaned
upon me so heavily, as she
held me open, that I feared
for my hinges. But he got
well, the brave young cap-
tain, under her loving care,
and, months later, it was I
that opened, with my best
click, to admit the bridal
party. Yes, those were the
good days, when men were
brave, and women's hearts
were true.

"The other day, I heard
Miss Dosia telling her fa-
ther that I really mast be
pulled down, and a fine
drive for the new automo-
bile put in. My four-year-
old David has made a hard
fight for me, with tears in
the blue eyes that are so
much like the other David's,
swing on.

"And though it costs me many a rheumatic twinge
afterward, I let little David swing upon me, even as
Cynthia's children swung — half a century ago."

DAWN

BY BRUCE T. SIM0NDS (AGE 1 7)

(Honor Member)
First, naught but darkness and the solemn stars;

Then, in the east, a long, low streak of light,
Which spreads and widens into level bars

That faintly gleam, while westward flees the night.

The color deepens, glowing warm and bright,
Till o'er the eastern heavens are unfurled

Those rosy clouds with flaming pennons dight ;
And, as their flickering edges are uncurled,
Up leaps the glorious sun, to greet the expectant world.

List to the meadow-lark ! How sweet and clear

Over the eastern fields his bell-notes ring !
And robins carol loud with merry cheer ;

From graceful, branching elms the orioles sing.

The purling brook rejoices in the spring,
A million dewdrops glitter on the lawn ;

I, only, bear no thankful offering,
And yet my spirit, too, is upward drawn
Into the life and joy of this transcendent dawn.

THE STORY OF THE GATE

BY DOROTHY REYNOLDS (AGE io)

One day, some men put me in place, for I am a little,
picket foot gate. I was not bothered for some time.

One day, a little girl came out. She swung on me,
and then opened me and went out into the road, where
she got all dirty.

The next day, a lady came out and fastened me with
a rope.

That afternoon, the little girl came out with a clean
dress on. She tried to untie me, but could not.

I9I3-]

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

571

Then she tried to climb over me, but I was too high.

So she got down and tried to get under me. She
pushed and pushed, but could not get under.

Then she tried to get back, but she was stuck fast.
She screamed so loud, that her mama, who was in the
house working, rushed out of the house to see what was
the matter.

She tried to get her out, but she could not. She
untied me, but could not open me without hurting the
little girl.

Finally, her father came home, took me off my hinges,
and got the little girl out.

After she became older, she often went over me, but
never under me again.

THE DAWN

BY LUCILE E. FITCH (AGE I/)

{Honor Member)
One morn I rose, and, kneeling down in prayer
Before the Moslem temple's sacred stair.
Whispered devoutly with the pilgrims there,

"Great is Allah !"
Mine eyes beheld the glor}' of the dawn,
Soft tinting every spire it glinted on ;
Faintly the Arab chant came back anon,

"Great is Allah !"

The tenting skies with darts of fire were rayed,
'Gainst which all Orient jewels seemed to fade.
Each in its lovely radiance displayed

The hand of Allah.
For all the West was amethyst alone,
The South was pearl, the North a sapphire shone ;
The East was gemmed with brilliants from the throne

Of mighty Allah.

Still, as the beauty of that dawning grew,
I felt, somehow, the presence of the true,
The real Creator; and, behold, I knew

It was not Allah !
Wondrous as was the fame by Allah won,
Too earthly he to reach the glowing sun
Whose christening veil, the dawn, was wrought by One

Greater than Allah.

THE DAWN

BV ELSA ANNA SYNNESTVEDT (AGE IS

(Honor Member)
One morning, at the early break of day,

An artist slowly paced the lonely sands
Beside a broad expanse of sheltered bay,

And watched the dawn creep forth from Night's
dark hands.

The water stretched, unruffled and serene,
Out to the sea, as far as eye could reach ;

And, inward-rolling from that silver sheen,
The tiny wavelets rippled up the beach.

The artist stood and watched with gaze intent,
And saw how all the gloomy shadows fled ;

How, slowly, through the vaulted firmament;
The radiant Dawn her rainbow colors shed.

'Almighty God," he murmured reverently,

"Such scenes as this no mortal can portray;
The power is Thine alone, and sky and sea
Reflect Thy glory with each dawning day."

DAYBREAK

BY ADRIENNE WILKES (AGE 15)

(Silver Badge)
All nature lies in solemn hush,

A mist surrounds the earth,
And silence, calm in daybreak's blush,

Awaits the new day's birth.

A rosy tinge paints yonder east,

A dash of gold and blue ;
And woodland folk shall seek their feast

While yet the day is new.

And now upon the morning air

There rings a faint, sweet cry,
Which, swelling louder, clear, and fair,

Goes mounting to the sky.

Another and another sound

Joins in the sweet-voiced lay,
And fields and forests all resound

With nature's hymn to Day.

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, 1

Sherman Humason
Eleanor W. Haasis
Helen Nathan
Virginia Sledge
Esther Freeman
Baldwin Maull
Vivian E. Hall
Harriet Wickwire
Margaret Finck
Thyrza Weston
Marjorie Moran
Nina Hansell
Bryan H. Ripley
Richard Gudeman
Eunice Eddy
Rosebud Segal
Elsie Terhune
Frances D.

Pennypacker
Harriet McKim
Helen Creighton
Marie H. Taylor
Elmer H. Van Fleet
Anna Saur
Hedwig Zorb
Clarisse S. De Bost
Catherine F. Urell
John Reed
Dorothy Reed
S. Frances Hershey
Constance Holmes
Edith Brodek
Rose Cushman
Dorothy M. Russell
R. Bruce Lindsay
Mary Daboll
Elizabeth Baldwin
V. H. Coryell
D. Q. Palmer
Lelia L. Delaplane
Nell Upshaw
Marie Merriman
Harriet Henry
Winifred C. Johnson
Henrietta M. Archer
Peggy Gantt
Isabel B. Peavey
Mildred Longstreth
Frances Riker
Eliza A. Peterson
Wm. L. Theisen
Alice L. Tully
Michael Glassman
Elizabeth Finley

PROSE, 2

F.lwood Squires
Donald Reed
Nelson Munson
Katharine Ferriday
E. Browning, Jr.
Gladys Funck
Marion S. Bradley
Beryl Collins
Helen A. Dority
Charlotte Chace
Louise M. Gorey
Hannah Ratisher
Ida Cramer ,
Halah Slade

VERSE, 1

Emily T. Burke
Dorothy Morris
Marian Thanhauser
Elwin B. White
Dorothy B. Mack
Morris Ryskind
Eleanor Johnson
Stanley B. Reid
Flizabeth M. Duffield
Marion G. Reeder
Lucy W. Renaud
S. V. Benet
Elsie L. Richter
Elsie L. Lustig
Lilian N. Miller
Mary E. Verner
Frances M. Ross
Edith V. Manwell
Merrill Anderson
Coralie Austin
A. H. Nethercot
Sarah M. Bradley
Frances Harmon
Etta M. Chant
Vernie Peacock
Gwendolyn

Frothingham
Mildred Morgan
Marjorie M. Carroll
Grace N. Sherburne
Janet H epburn
Elizabeth Morrison
Margaret Buggar
Ren6e Geofrrion
Frances C. Dnggar
Caroline F. Ware
Mabel Eldridge

Frances S. Meader
Mattie Hibbert
Dorothy Staples
Elizabeth Dauchy
Fannie W. Butterfield
Frances Swan
Josephine Richards
Frances Wilkinson
Annie F. Napier
Margery Berg
Jeannette Ridlon
Mary B. Thayer
Anita Louise Scott
Frances I. Ogilvie
Helen A. Winans
Lucy Mackay

"A HEADING FOR
APRIL." BY JESSIE
E. ALISON, AGE 14.
(SILVER BADGE.)

Kenneth Sater
Edythe J. Riordan
Beatrice T. Constant
Ethel C. Litchfield
Hope Satterthwaite
Marion F. Hayden
Hester D. Nott
Amy Smith
Marie L. Muriedas
Lucy Locker

VERSE,

John F. Welker
Isidore Helfand

572

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE

S. Curtis Bird
Anne Dauchy
S. Janney Hutton
Margaret E. Ash
Ruth Schlesinger
Eugene Scott
Eleanor Coryell
Narcissa Gellatly
Mildred Tim
Louise Cramer
Donovan Hinchman
Ruth L. Franc
Elizabeth Elting
George P. Reynolds

DRAWINGS, i

Emil P. Thiemann
Dorothy E. Handsaker
Margaret Conty
Jeanne Dartiguenave
Alverd Corbly
Robert Riggs
Miriam T. Wilson
Adelaide White
Louise S. May
Lucil.e Crockett
Lois C. Myers
Isidore Freed
Dorothy Hughes
Marguerite Steber
Welthea H. Thoday
Jeanette B. Daly

DRAWINGS, 2

Arthur T. Lincoln
Solomon Werber
Audrey Noxon
Edward S. Weyl
Henrietta H. Henning
Mac Clark
Anne S. Garrett
Hazel Wichern
Mildred Fisher
Marion Monroe
Margaret Barcalo
A. B. Sbarboro
Russell Hitchcock, Jr.
Katharine Parsons
Verna Wichern
Margaret Sanders
Aubrey Tholin
Muriel W. Curtis
Marjory Lee
William Burkley
Roy Stratton
Charlotte Malsbary
Katherine Abbott
Beatrice Ritchie
Marion Clark
Frances Leech
Baxter Mann
Margaret A. Train
Roderick M. Grant
Paulyne F. May
Caroline L. Lovett
Velma D. Hooper
Carroll Mason
Margaret Waite
Anna Gray
Lucy F. Rogers
Arthur J. Voelker
Helen B. Weiser
Margaret A. Halstead
Eva R. Morwitz
Jennie E. Everden
Alice M. Hughes
Eleanor M. Kellogg
Copeland Hovey
Helen F. Drain
Margery Ragle
MaryH. Bosworth

PHOTOGRAPHS, i

Hildegard A.
Diechmann
p. Peabody
Margaret E. Hoffman
Mary Barnett
Sherwood Vermilye
Gertrude Sceery
Josephine Connable
J. Barrows

Henry M. Justi, Jr.

Janet W. Victorius
Kathryn D. Hayward
Rachel Trowbridge
Robert L. Moore
Flora Ros

Margaret C. Valentine
W. Kenneth Wilson
Helen McHarg
Edith S. Lowenstein
Gymaina Hudson
Jeannette C. Owens
Helen M. Purdy
Margaret Mortenson
Cornelia S. Jackson
Heath Dudley
Raimund Wurlitzer
Eleanor Stevenson
Joyce W. Butler
Winifred H. Jelliffe
Fanny A. Fleurot
Jessica B. Noble
Ethel Malpas
Emily Williams
Paul Detlefsen
May Lindsay
Sherman Pratt
James B. Wilson, Jr.
Edith Wimelbach
Margaret Pratt
Dorothy H. Burton
Eleanor Gottheil
C. Marion Trueb
Addie E. Smith
William Wilson
Edwin A. Gallun
Dorothy Gladding
Anne L. Forstall
William W. Kane
Willis K. Jones
Alice Laurence
Sibyl E. Collins
Louise Blumenthal
Eleanor Doremus
A. C. Neave, 2d
Mary S. Webster
Walter E. Myers
Marie Rupp
Gordon L. Kent
J. Sherman Murphy
Dorothy V. Tyson
Alice W. Hall
Muriel G. Read
Dickson Green

PHOTOGRAPHS, 2

Helen M. Lancaster
Joe de Ganahl
Margaret M. Horton
Mary Smith
Ethel F. Frank
Georgiana Slade
Elizabeth K. Brown
Easton B. Noble
Marion A. Ross"
Georgine Dismukes
Delia Wolf
Betty Humphreys
Helen Easterwood
Wilhelmina Reichard
John F. Huyck
Frances M. Weed
Annette B. Moran
Isabel Morrow
Katharine Clark
James Embree
Burton Leavens
Patrina M. Colis
Jean N. Flanigen
Lucia W. Liddle
Gerald H. Loomis
Gladys E. Livermore
Robert D. Clark
Marianne C. Brown
Peggy Smith
Dorris Miller
James McHenry
Elizabeth Skeele
Sybil Appleton
Frederick Ford
Rhoda Lee
Louis Joseph
Jack Bray, Jr.
Lauretta Wheat

G. Ruhland Relmann
Frances M. Sweet
Alice C. Chamberlain
Bella Puerin
Laura Hadley
Elizabeth C. Bayne
Andrew N. Adams
Gilbert W. Chapman
Helen Snook
Linda Schroeder
Eversley S. Ferris
Alexander M. Greene
Priscilla Alden
Dorothy G. Schwarz
Joseph Sill Clark, Jr.
Margaret M. Benny
Noel Macy

PUZZLES, 1

Allen H. Raymond
Gladys Naramore
Harry B. Kirkland
Theodore Neustaedter
Marion Ames
Susan B. Nevin
Gertrude Bendheim
Marjorie K. Gibbons
Eleanor K. Newell
Ruth Harris

Catharine M. Weaver
Ruth Wineland
Fanny Ruley
Rose Greeley
Anica Chambers
Mitchell V. Charnley
Phyllis Young
Isabel B. Diggs
Myra Schutz

PUZZLES, 2
Ruth Putnam

Gordon M. Jackson
Elsa S. Roeder
Carl Fichandler
James R.

McTaggart, Jr.
Margaret Anderson
Henry Greenbaum
Margaret Billingham
Florence Temple
Augusta Roberts
Grace E. Lustig
Dan Thompson, Jr.

'A BIT OF LIFE. BY

MARION O'HARA,
AGE 14.

Emily M. Gile
Charlotte M. Turk
James K. Angell
G. Raby Burrage
Mary G. Ferris
Margaretta Foltz
Murray Pease
E. Edwin Weibel
Elias Ball, Jr.
Agnes Watkins
Eric Brunnow
Roger Preston
Nellie R. Albert
Francis Coletti
Margaret Van V.

Powers
Helen N. Thomas
Elizabeth N. Doremus
Anna Schwarz
Richard L. Cooch
R. Symington
Phyllis Sears
Charlotte K. Skinner
W._ Robert Reud
Anita Lee
Marjorie ShurtlefT
Reinold M. Parker
Frank Isely
Anna U. Wheeler
Frances Kinghorn
Esther Huntington
Marjorie C. Huston
Virginia M. Bliss
Lenore J. Hughes
Howard R. Sherman
Elizabeth Davis
Priscilla Hammond
Laury A. Biggers
Jack Dean
Dorothy von Olker
Gertrude De Sautelle
Jean F. Benswanger
Arthur Beckhard
Leonora Andrews
Kenneth D. Smith
Elizabeth C. Bates
Mildred J. Cary
Joseph S. Sylvester, Jr.

PRIZE COMPETITION No. 162

The St. Nicholas League awards gold and s'lver badges
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings,
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also, occasion-
ally, cash prizes to Honor Members, when the contribu-
tion printed is of unusual merit.

Competition No. 162 will close April 10 (for for-
eign members April 15). Prize announcements will be
made and the selected contributions published in St.
Nicholas for August.

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines.
Subject, "On the Waters," or "The Butterfly."

Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred
words. Subject, " A Pleasant Journey."

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue
prints or negatives. Subject, "All Aboard!"

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash.
Subject, " Face to Face," or a Heading for August.

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

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.

THE LETTER-BOX

At the request of one of the good friends of St. Nich-
olas, we take pleasure in reprinting the following item
and its illustration, believing that it will interest our
young readers of to-day as much as it did those who
were our readers in 1879, when it appeared in "Jack-
in-the-Pulpit." It was written by Mary Mapes Dodge.

THE MAGIC LEAF

Now, my serious young botanists, here is something for
you, and for everybody else who has a magnifying-glass,
to look at carefully — a Magic Leaf, which your Jack
presents to you with the compliments of the season.

The leaf has the necromantic power of revealing the
secret most important for a person to know ; but it
will act only on three conditions : First, that the in-

quirer be quite alone ; second, that every line on the
leaf be examined through a good magnifying-glass, and
with the left eye only, the right eye being kept closed
by a gentle pressure from the middle finger of the left
hand, which must first be passed around by the back
of the head ; and third, that the secret, when known,
be faithfully kept by the lucky finder.

If you will follow these simple rules closely, my
young wiseacres, the secret no longer will be a mystery
to you.

We gladly give place in the Letter-Box this month to
this clever little translation, by a member of The St.
Nicholas League, Katherine Bull, of three verses en-
titled "Toddlekins and Trot," written by Anna M. Pratt,
and published in St. Nicholas in September, 1886.
We reprint also the original verses, following the
translation, so that those of our young readers who are
French students may compare the two.

"Chere Toddlekins," lui dit petit Trot ;

"Puis-je parle avec vous?"
"Oui, Trot," lui repondit Toddlekins,

Avec un sourire doux.

'Si nous rencontrions un ours quelque jour,:

Lui dit petit Trot —
'Mon Dieu !" lui cria-t-elle ;
"Par peur je ne dirais pas un mot I"

'Si nous le ferions," dit-il ;

"Pourrais-je sauver votre vie?"
'Je ne veux pas etre votre femme

Mais vous pouvez le faire — Ah oui !"

'Dear Toddlekins," said little Trot,

"May I talk to you awhile?"
'Why, yeth, of courthe," said Toddlekins,
With a bashful little smile.

'Now, Toddlekins," said little Trot,
"If we should meet a bear" —

'Good graciouth me !" said Toddlekins,
"You give me thuch a thcare I"

'If we should meet a bear," said Trot,
"Would you let me save your life?"

'Oh merthy ! Yeth !" said Toddlekins,
"But I will not be your wife !"

Naples, Italy.
Dear St. Nicholas : You must excuse me if I don't
write to you very well, but it is the first year that I
learn English.

Perhaps you know all about Naples, and how beauti-
ful the sea and the sky is when it is blue. I am a
little Neapolitan, and I like it very much.

One of my friends, Nora Ricasoli, is also a League
member, and she has had the silver badge. The first
time I read the St. Nicholas, I thought that badge
was the same thing as bag, so I ran off to tell my
father that St. Nicholas gave away bags full of gold
and silver ! Nobody would believe me, and my Eng-
lish governess laughed at me very much, and told me
what "badge" meant, and I saw the big difference !
Your interested reader,

Giovanna Colonna (age 10).

Nome, Alaska.
Dear St. Nicholas : I have taken you for nearly four
years, and this is the first time I have written to you.

I have only seen two or three letters in the St. Nich-
olas from Alaska, and just one from Nome ; so I
thought if I wrote, you might publish my letter, as the
boys and girls in the States seem to be quite interested
in the far North.

We came to Alaska in the fall of 1902, and have
lived here ever since. Nome is not our home though,
as we live at Shelton, in the Kougarok precinct, about
eighty miles north of Nome.

My brother and I came down to Nome last fall to
attend the public school as there is n't any school in the
Kougarok except the government school at Igloo for
the Eskimos.

We have long, cold winters and short, hot summers
here. In the winter, it is sometimes 500 or 60° below
zero, and in the summer the mercury has been known
to reach ioo° above.

The country is very hilly, with small lakes and swamps
between. In quite a few places the ground between the
lakes is just like a sponge filled with water. When a

574

THE LETTER-BOX

[April,

person walks over it, he will sink to his knees at every
step, getting well soaked, unless he has rubber boots on.
In other parts there are "niggerheads," which make
walking as difficult as it is in the swamps. A "nigger-
head" is a formation of earth which extends about a
foot above the ground and is shaped like a head, with
wiry grass growing all over it. When there are a great
many of these niggerheads growing close together, with
water between, a person not used to walking will get
worn out very quickly.

There is no timber in the western part of Seward
Peninsula except two or three groves of cottonwood or
Balm of Gilead trees, and a small grove of birch. In
the creek valleys, little red willows grow, and there are
large willows and a few alders along the river-banks.

We also have several kinds of berries : salmon-berries,
cranberries, blueberries, and two kinds of little black-
berries. The cranberries are small, being about the
size of a pea, and are the same kind as those imported
in large barrels from Norway. They grow on cliffs
among the rocks, and have a stem two or three inches
long. It is a pretty sight to view them from the base
of the cliff, as they are a bright red, and show up very
plainly.

The salmon-berries are about the size of large rasp-
berries, and grow where it is rather damp. Each berry
grows by itself on a stem about two or three inches
long, while the cranberries grow in small clusters. We
all like the salmon-berries very much, but there are
quite a few people who can't bear the taste of them.
The Eskimos pick barrels of them and pour seal oil
over them to eat in the winter.

We have the arctic hares and ptarmigan for meat,
and the fur-bearing animals are : fox, muskrat, mink,
and weasel. One winter there were quite a few lynx

trapped, but they are all gone now. The arctic hares
are very wild, so there are not many killed. In the fall,
hundreds of ptarmigan are killed by hunters and by
flying against the telephone-line while going at full
speed.

Your interested reader,

Carl L. Lokke (age 15).

Chicago, III.
Dear St. Nicholas : I have taken you one year, and
am taking you again. I think you are the best chil-
dren's magazine published.

The last surviving member of the Boston Tea-party
was my grandfather's uncle, David Kennison, who died
in Chicago, at the age of 116 years. The Chicago His-
torical Society erected a bronze marker to his memory
in Lincoln Park.

Your interested reader,

Theodore Keniston (age 10).

Cedar Grove, N. J.
Dear St. Nicholas : I am writing to tell you about two
alligators we brought home from Florida. They are
only five months old, and they are about ten inches
long. They have yellow stripes across their backs,
which the old ones do not. On one of the very cold
days, they were nearly frozen, and we have to keep
them wrapped up in flannels near the radiator. The
other day we had them by the fireplace in a cage. One
of them got out and crawled over the hot ashes. He
croaked loudly, not unlike a frog, when taken awa\
from the ashes.

Your interested reader,
Clarence E. Thornall, Jr. (age 12).

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER

Novel Bird Zigzag. Chickadee. 1-6, Grouse; 7-13, Ostrich: 14-
16. Emu; 17-21, Pipit; 22-25, Lark; 26-29, Teal; 30-33, Rook. Cross-
words: 1. Cuckoo. 2. Thrush. 3. Ibises. 4. Scoter. 5. Kakapo.
6. Magpie. 7. Dipper. 8. Petrel. 9. Eaglet.

Novel Acrostic. Longfellow, Evangeline. Cross-words: 1. Lover.
2. Olive. 3. Naval. 4. Orand. 5. Flags. 6. Elder. 7. Lowly. 8.
Limit. 9. Opens. 10. Wheel.

Numerical Enigma. " Let us be inflexible, and fortune will at last
change in our favor."

Double Acrostic." Peter Lely, Henry Clay. Cross-words: 1,
Paragraph. 2. Eglantine. 3. Tarpaulin. 4. Encounter. 5. Rotund
iiy. 6. Lethargic. 7. Empirical. 8. Libellula. 9. Yesterday.

Illustrated Diagonal. Eureka. Cross-words: 1. Easter. 2.
Bundle. 3. Garlic. 4. Easels. 5. Clocks. 6. Alpaca.

To our Puzzlers: Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine
addressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Centurv Co., 33

Answers to all the Puzzles in the January Number were

A Diamond of Diamonds. I. 1. W. 2. Lea. 3. Weird. 4
Charm. 5. Druid. 6. Pitch. 7. Divan. 8. Tapir. 9. Niche. io
Resin, n. Eider. 12. New. 13. R. II. 1. W. 2. Lea. 3. Weird

4. Armor. 5. Dross. 6. Matin. 7. Siren. 8. Pined. 9. Elfin. 10
Sinew. n. Eider. 12. New. 13. R. III. 1. W. 2. Lea. 3
Weird. 4. Arm. 5. D. IV. 1. D. 2. Pit. 3, Divan. 4. Tap

5. N. V. 1. S. 2. Tin. 3. Siren. 4. Ned. 5. N. VI. 1. E.
2. Sin. 3. Eider. 4. New. 5. R.

Double Diagonal. Xenophon, Anabasis. Cross-words: 1. Xan-
thura. 2. Penitent. 3. Mandrake. 4. Jacobite. 5. Seraphim. 6.
Sisyphus. 7. Picaroon. 8. Solution.

Additions. Katharine of France. 1. Kid-nap. 2. Ant-rim. 3
Tar-get. 4. Has-ten. 5. Asp-ire. 6. Rat-her. 7. Imp-act. 8. Not-
ice. 9. Err-and. 10. Off-end. 11. Fat-her. 12. Fin-ale. 13. Rot-
ate. 14. Arc-her. 15. Nut-meg. 16. Can-did. 17. Eye-let.

Cross-word Enigma. Chanticleer.

must be received not later than the 10th of each month, and should be
East Seventeenth Street, New York City. .

received before January 10 from " Queenscourt"

I9U-]

THE RIDDLE-BOX

575

Answers to Puzzles in the January Number were received before January io from Edith H. Baumann, 10 — Carlisle Cabaniss, 10—
"Midwood," io— Theodore H. Ames, 9— Claire Hepner, 9— "Dixie Slope," 7— Lothrop Bartlett, 6— " Wyndermere Avenue," 5— Dorothy
Berrall, 4— Mable H. Fisher, 3.

Answers to one Puzzle were received from M. and E. W. P.— F. F., Jr.— S. C— L. P. B.— D. L. T.— S. R. R— D. C— D. R.— B. S.—
M. McL. T.— C. O.— F. V.— E. D. T.— K. H.— P. G.

EASY DOUBLE ACROSTIC

The words described are of the same length. When
rightly guessed and written one below another, the
primals will spell the name of one of the United States,
and the finals its capital.

Cross-words: i. An outfit of tools. 2. Past. 3.
Doze. 4. To perceive. 5. A boat we have all heard of.
6. A body of salt water.

Gertrude bendheim (age 13), League Member.

DOUBLE DIAGONAL

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition)

All the words described are of equal length. When
correctly guessed and written one below another, the
downward diagonals from the upper right-hand and
left-hand letters will spell the names of two famous
rivers.

Cross-words : 1. A drinking-place. 2. A celestial
creature. 3. Obscurity. 4. A beautiful autumn flower.
5. An angle. 6. Imaginary sea-beings.

PHEBE ANN RICHMOND (age 12).

ZIGZAG AND ACROSTIC

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 row
will spell the name of a President of the United States.
And the third row of letters will spell the name of a
Vice-President who served with him.

Cross-words : 1. Hewn or squared stone. 2. A cal-
culating device. 3. Fame. 4. A kind of shoe. 5. A
young cow. 6. A small flat slab. 7. A tract of grass-
land. 8. To attract. 9. To draw into the lungs. 10.
Glass applied as a coating to metal or porcelain. 11.
A fight. 12. Sober. 13. To linger. 14. Yearly.

gustav diechmann (age 1 3), Honor Member.

VI. Lower Left-hand Diamond: i. In servile. 2. A
Japanese coin. 3. To disjoin. 4. Modern. 5. In ser-
vile.

VII. Lower Right-hand Diamond: i. In servile. 2.
A female deer. 3. Part of a spur. 4. A kind of fish.
5: In servile.

VIII. Right-hand Square: i. To repulse. 2. Lifted
up. 3. A Turkish governor. 4. An anesthetic. 5. To
acquire knowledge.

IX. Lower Square: i. To revolt. 2. Weird. 3. A
newly married woman. 4. A kind of duck. 5. Mali-
cious glances.

duncan Scarborough (age 15), Honor Member.

CHARADE

Hundreds my first hath named, and hundreds more

Shall hear that name, till Time's long round is o'er.

Like Time itself, in every clock it lurks ;

Yet needless wholly to those complex works.

'T is blue, 't is green, 't is purple, and 't is white ;

And sometimes flashes with resplendent light.

Without its aid destroyed were every grace

Yet here farewell ! it flies abroad through space.

My second is an emblem and a word,

Endless yet ending, always in accord ;

A painter's boast as old-time legends tell ;

Sometimes a whisper and sometimes a yell.

It speaks of anguish, terror, bliss, or care,

And tells amazement, pleasure, or despair.

A sigh for that we breathe when all alone,

And yet 't is nothing when its tale is done.

But o'er and o'er repeated let it stand,

Each dowers with wealth the leader of its band ;

Yet when it follows not, but goes before,

Alas ! Alas ! Aladdin's dream is o'er !

SQUARES CONNECTED BY DIAMOND CROSS

. . . . 0

0 0 • • • •

. . . . 0

0 0 ■ ■ ■ ■

I. Upper Square: i. Part of a door. 2. A market-place.
3. A rcver. 4. To rub out. 5. To put on a cargo.

II. Left-hand Square: i. Plunder. 2. An Italian
city. 3. A wind-instrument. 4. A statue. 5. Narrow
ways.

III. Upper Left-hand Diamond: i. In servile. 2. In-
experienced. 3. Roman household gods. 4. A texture.
5. In servile.

IV. Upper Right-hand Diamond: i. In servile. 2. A
tavern. 3. To speak derisively. 4. To gain as clear
profit. 5. In servile.

V. Central Diamond: i. In servile. 2. A curse. 3.
Taste. 4. To sway. 5. In servile.

My third is single, yet 't is double, too.
Fair maiden reader ! it can make you woo.
Whate'er you say makes wit of it with ease,
But 't is not known in some lands over seas —
Phenicia had it not, nor Greece, nor Rome,
In Saxon land it made its early home.
Sometimes 't is silent, then again 't is heard,
And ever single — doubled 't were absurd.
It is not found in earth or sky or sea,
Yet in the world it is — will ever be.

My whole: ah! now, what differing scenes arise —

A city street, and early morning cries ;

A lovely landscape, smiling and serene,

With waving grass and earth's abundant green ;

The breath of May, the host of sprinkled stars,

A peasant maiden letting down the bars ;

In Scripture pages noted more than once.

Known everywhere to donkey, babe, and dunce ;

Devoid of grace, yet one Olympian dame

Wore for her beauty's crown this earthly name.

Respected, valued, yet, oh tale of woe,

Thy language is, and always hath been, low.

Patient and faithful, if bereft of thee

To man or matron what would living be ?

And they who have thee not are driven to a tree.

rose terry cooke.

5 76

THE RIDDLE-BOX

ILLUSTRATED NUMERICAL ENIGMA

In this enigma the words are pictured instead of de-
scribed. When they have been rightly guessed and
their forty-four letters placed in the order here given,
they will form a timely quotation from Aristotle.

METAMORPHOSES

The problem is to change one given word to another by
altering one letter at a time, each alteration making a
new word, the number of letters being always the same,
and the letters always in the same order.

Example : Change vale to hill in three moves. An-
swer : vale, hale, hall, hill.

In the same way change: I. Fiber to paper in seven
moves. 2. Grate to stove in seven moves. 3. Lead to
pipe in eight moves. 4. Lamp to wick in six moves.
5. Crust to bread m seven moves. 6. Wolf to bear in
seven moves. 7. Serf to free in ten moves. 8. Paper
to slate in ten moves. 9. North to south in seven moves.
10. Cake to pies in six moves.

JESSIE S. RAND AND H. A. DAVIS.

REARRANGED WORDS

Example: Rearrange a nobleman, and make genuine.
Answer : earl, real.

In the same way, rearrange: 1. A heavenly body, and
make small animals. 2. To mount on wings, and make
rowing implements. 3. A gown, and make to weary.
4. Anything very small, and make an article. 5. Part
of a stanza, and make a large river of Africa. 6. A
South American ostrich, and make to heed. 7. To dirty,
and make unctuous substances. 8. Blood, and make a
wicked giant. 9. To despatch, and make caves.

The initials of the rearranged words will, in the
given order, spell the name of a famous character in
one of Scott's novels.

dorothy brockway (age 13), League Member.

HIDDEN BIRD PUZZLE

In the following story the names of at least twenty
birds are concealed.

Elizabeth rushed swiftly down-stairs, looking very
smart in her new dress, her walnut hat charmingly be-
coming. She and her brother John were going picnick-
ing. He helped her onto her horse, and then started off
in charge of the lunch basket. They soon came to a
pretty brook where they spread their luncheon on a
stone, chatting pleasantly.

"Do you like lobsters or nettles best?" asked John,
as he handed her some of the former ; leaning across

he had stung himself on the latter, not at all to his
enjoyment.

"Well," she began, "nettles sting whenever you touch
them, and lobsters nip every time they get a chance.
But I think I feel, in nettle time, that nettles are the
worst." Then she continued, "Do you know Miss Rob-
inson? She now rents that homestead over there. Her
servant, a Negro, uses every possible means to make
her comfortable, but she cannot rest well because that
poplar keeps her awake."

Noticing that it was now late, they went home. Both
enjoyed the outing extremely.

mary r. glover (age 13), League Member.

OBLIQUK RECTANGLE

In solving follow the above diagram, though the puzzle
has twenty-one cross-words.

1. In Charles. 2. An exclamation of triumph. 3. A
song. 4. A record of the events of a year. 5. Stories.
6. A physician. 7. A fragment. 8. A head covering.
9. Prostrate. 10. A sluggard. 11. A large sea-duck.
12. According to law. 13. Mad. 14. Written slander.
15. To shut out. 16. Work. 17. A bird. 18. To mature.
19. At no time. 20. A snare. 21. In Charles.

WYLLYS P. AMES.

NOVEL ACROSTIC

* 4 9 12 19 When the. words described are rightly

* 16 23 30 6 guessed and written one below an-

* 20 8 33 17 other, the primals, indicated by stars,

* 21 3 15 32 and the letters represented by the fig-

* 27 22 10 26 ures from 1 to 8, and from 9 to 16,

* 25 5 2 7 will each spell the name of an opera

* 31 4 5 34 written by the author named by the

* 24 28 18 11 letters from 17 to 34.

* 1 29 14 13 Cross-words : 1. A tropical animal.

2. An exclamation. 3. Wide-mouthed
pitchers. 4. To chop fine. 5. Mohammedanism. 6.
One of a South African tribe. 7. Behind. 8. A finger.
9. To think.
edith pierpont stickney (age 1 3), Honor Member.

THE DE V1NNE PRESS, NEW YORK.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

"That's a good Soup ad!"

'"VTES; and a good soup, too. And I find there are a hun-
» dred good ways to use it."
This is a most surprising fact about

TOMATO

OUP

It is not only the ideal soup-course when prepared simply
with hot water, milk or cream; but used in condensed form
— just as you receive it — and combined with many other sim-
ple dishes, it makes a most delicious seasoning; and adds
greatly to their wholesomeness and flavor.

Are you one of the clever house-wives who have discov-
ered these helpful facts; and does your table get the full ben-
efit of this perfect soup?

Why not write for our little free booklet
which describes a number of tempting
ways to serve it.

21 kinds

10c

a can

Flirty Miss Gerty so fair
Is frequently heard to declare
Her rosy attractions
And vigorous actions
Are due to her Campbell' s
Soup fare.

Asparagus

Beef

Bouillon

Celery

Chicken

Chicken Gumbo (Okra)

Clam Bouillon

Clam Chowder
Consomme
Julienne
Mock Turtle
Mulligatawny
Mutton Broth
Ox Tail

Pea

Pepper Pot

Printanier

Tom ato

Tomato-Okra

Vegetable

Vermicelli-Tomato

Look for the red-and- white label

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

,*t>'c-\ * ■

-4

PURITY in Crystal Domino Sugar
is proved by the glistening whiteness
and clear sparkle of every crystal.

Scrupulous cleanliness at every step of
manufacture insures its wholesomeness.

The carefully sealed package safeguards the
cleanliness under which it is made. And the last
touch of perfection is added by the dainty, easy-
! breaking shape.

One of the "Quality Products" of

\The American Sugar Refining Co.

ADDRESS

■i

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Just Look at the Figures!

" Every month it has been costing more for the table, and I 'm just discovering
how to save money and at the same time give the folks good things to eat. For one
thing, I make the loveliest desserts of

instead of expensive puddings and pies. It saves money and time,
too, and pleases the children, for they certainly like Jell-O."

That is the sensible course which every woman should follow.
Why does any housekeeper buy high-priced things for the table
when she can get better things that do not cost as much ?

A Jell-O dessert costs 1 0 cents.

There are seven different flavors: Strawberry, Raspberry,
Lemon, Orange, Cherry, Peach, Chocolate.

Each in a separate package, at grocers', 1 0 cents.

Our beautiful recipe book, with pictures in ten colors
and gold, will be sent free to all wbo write to us and ask lor 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.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

imM

Boys, imagine what an improvement pneumat-
'""> ic tires were over the old solid bicycle tires.

mm ? Well, Vacuum Cup Tires are just as much
of an improvement over ordinary pneumatic
tires to-day.

When you equip your wheel with

PENNSYLVANIA

VACUUM1 CUPTIRES

FOR BICYCLES

you have something to be proud of, and sure of, too.

You don't have to worry over punctures — these tires are practically
puncture-proof.

You can ride right over freshly oiled roads without hurting these
tires — the tread is absolutely oil-proof rubber.

You can ride safely on wet or greasy pavements — the Vacuum
Cup Tread makes a suction that holds against side slips, without the
least bit of drag on the wheel.

And the "Red Tread" puts your wheel in a class by itself for locks.

Sold under our exceptional guarantee cover-
ing a season's service under the liberal con-
ditions printed on tag attached to each tire

Vacuum Cup Tires for Automobiles and Motorcycles
are the highest known standard.

If your dealer shouldn't have V. C. Red Treads

in stock — just write to us.

PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER CO., Jeannette, Pa.

Branches

Pittsburgh, 505 Liberty Avenue
Cleveland, 1837 Euclid Avenue
Detroit, 254 Jefferson Avenue
Chicago, 1004 Michigan Avenue

Minneapolis, 34 S. 8th Street
Kansas City, Mo., 514 E. 15th St.
Omaha, 215 S. 20th Street
Seattle, Armour Building

PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER CO. OF NEW YORK

New York City, 1700 Broadway Boston, 14!) Berkeley Street

Dallas, 411 S. Ervay Street

PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER CO. OF CALIFORNIA

San Francisco, 512-514 Mission Street
Los Angeles, 930 S. Main Street

An Independent Company with an inde-
pendent selling policy.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

CHUMS-

the boy and his

BROWNIE

CAMERA

The Brownie answers every need in a
boy's camera — is strong, efficient, simple
— and inexpensive too.

Brownie Book at your dealers, or on request. Free.

EASTMAN KODAK COMPANY,

ROCHESTER, N. Y.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS'

We use yarn that costs us an average of
74c. a pound, while common yarn costs
32c. It is three-ply Egyptian and Sea
Island Cotton — the finest grown for the
purpose.

It is pliable and soft. But it wears as
no other does.

We are able to put into stockings' the
very utmost quality and sell them at the
common price because of the enormous
demand for " Holeproof."

1,000,000 People Wear
"Holeproof"

A million men, women, children and
infants are wearing Holeproof Stockings
and Sox. Less than 5 per cent, are re-
turning them on our six months' guar-
antee. Don't you think that a wonderful
record? Don't you think you would save
both money and darning by having your
children wear them?

Madam, Why Do You
Darn Their Stockings

When Holeproof Stockings are
Guaranteed to Wear Six Months?

Tell Your Husband, Too

Ask him to try them. Try them your-
self. See what they do. Learn why so
many prefer "Holeproof."

Be sure you get the genuine "Hole-
proof."

It bears this signature: 1gai£o%£4c/?£

Six pairs of men's cotton "Holeproof"
cost $1.50 to $3 a box; women's and
children's cost $2 to $3 a box of six pairs.
Infants' cost $1 a box of four pairs.

All above boxes guaranteed six months.

Silk "Holeproof" for men cost $2 a
box of three pairs; women's silk stock-
ings, $3 a box of three pairs. Three
pairs of silk are guaranteed three months.

Our new Mercerized sox at $1.50 for
six pairs are the latest "Holeproof" ad-
dition. They have the lustre of silk and
22 per cent, added strength due to our
exclusive process.

Holeproof Hosiery

MM FORw/MEN WOMEN JfjlAND CHILDREN-/

Sold in Your Town

Genuine " Holeproof" are sold in your town. We '11 tell you the dealers' names
on request, or ship direct, where there 's no dealer near, charges pre-
paid, on receipt of remittance.

Write for free book, "How to Make Your Feet Happy."
Learn the facts. Decide that you want the whole family to wear
them.

HOLEPROOF HOSIERY COMPANY

Milwaukee, Wis.
Holeproof Hosiery Company of Canada, Ltd., London, Canada

" Wear Holeproof ffose and pnd Ike ^fend "

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Yale Health Insurance

Yale Juvenile Bicycle, 26-inch wheels, $25; 24-inch
wheels, $22; 20-inch wheels, $20

NOTHING can take the place of a Yale Bicycle for a youngster. It
takes him out in the open air, puts color in his cheeks, hardens his
muscles, and keeps him in top-notch health. If his appetite grows slug-
gish, get him a Yale Bicycle and watch the change. It's a guarantee
against sickness.

YALE JUVENILE BICYCLES are built to stand the
hard use that an active boy gives them. They run so easily
that he can go faster and farther than the lads on other
machines — and the Yale never gets out of order. It pays
to give him the best.

CONSOLIDATED MANUFACTURING CO.

1762 Fernwood Ave., TOLEDO, OHIO
Eastern Representative, F.C. CORNISH, 219 Clinton Ave., NEWARK, N.J.

NORTHERN CALIFORNIA DISTRIBUTOR:

BEAN SON COMPANY, 660-664 Howard St., SAN FRANCISCO

Makers also of Yale Motorcycles, Hussey Handlebars, Brazed
Tubing, Bent Parts and Drop Forgings of Every Description

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Why Experiment?

Use a

Standard Brand

of Cocoa.

BENSOORP'S

Absolutely

Pure.

BENSDORPS

ROYAL DUTCH

CO CD A

iNSDOflf

iOYAL DUTCH

't^aOFCAKECBOCO^1

Si: f£

Requires only

as much
as of other makes
because of its
DOUBLE STRENGTH

Always in Yellow Wrapper. Sample on request.

STEPHEN L. BARTLETT COMPANY, Importers, Boston

jji '• . . :: :;.:r,. :a.::;!:i:ii:ii!l!,i.;i! ..,.■■.■ :':'.::'.:'

THOSE advertisers who use The Century
Magazine do so with an appreciation of qual-
ity, character and prestige. They realize that The
Century is unique, that it is the leading magazine
in art and literature, in paper, letterpress, engrav-
ing and printing.

They realize the strength of The Century
appeal to people of education, refinement and
taste. They want such people — the leaders of
their communities — to be on their side. More-
over, they realize the long life of the magazine.

ll!J:l!v 11(11!'!! SHI!

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

HIS is a picture of my favorite pair of shoes. I like
them best of all because they have O'Sullivan Rubber
Heels on them. They are just fine and comfortable, and I
have worn them for over a year, as you can see. I like the
rubber heels because they make me walk quietly — just like
I was on my tip-toes."

" I think every little boy and girl should wear O'Sulli-
van Rubber Heels. I have told Mother that I want her to
buy all my shoes with rubber heels on them, and Father says
O'Sullivan Rubber Heels are the best. I want the kind
he wears."

This is the way they look
when they have n't been
worn a year.

St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No, ij6.

Time to hand in answers is up April 10. Prize-winners announced in June number.

"Rpfvl

,-fl.

Jililwiukct, "Wise

ft*

Jea-W^'
/"I

»>•

\ / , ow* ^-, / / // *af / •

Chuago.Tlfc

ClUc'tH**

The other day we met Alexander the Little riding in a
very handsome automobile, from which he greeted us with
an air of pride that showed plainly he was not riding in his
own car. The next time we saw him, remembering this
meeting, we asked whether he could not get up an advertis-
ing competition which had to do with automobiles.

With his usual easy confidence, he said, " Certainly I
can, " and in a day or two he brought us the road-map which
you see pictured above in his drawing. Alexander seemed
rather proud of this artistic work, especially drawing our at-
tention to his dog in the left foreground, which he said he
obtained through the St. Nicholas Pet Department.

Then we called upon him to explain what the competition
was to be, for certainly it is not evident from the drawing
alone. It took him some time to explain the scheme, and
we shall not trouble you with all he said. The Judges have
boiled it down to a simpler statement.

The picture shows the supposed track of an automobile
party of St. Nicholas readers who make a journey in their
car for the purpose of visiting a number of different places,
each one of which has something to do with an advertise-
ment not smaller than a quarter page, appearing in the
March number of St. Nicholas. To solve the problem,
you must find at least one reference to every locality shown
upon this chart, being careful, however, not to include the
name of any one advertiser twice. The journey is supposed
to begin in New York City and to end in the Alps. If you
will follow the waving line that spells out the words " St.
Nicholas Advertisers," you will come, in order, to each
locality, and finally reach the car standing in a place whence
the Alps are seen.

You will find, of course, more than one reference to a num-
ber of places mentioned. For example, many advertisements
refer to New York City, but it will be sufficient if you give
the full name of at least one advertiser having in his an-
nouncement reference to the place on the road-chart.

You see that this is an exercise in advertising geography,
and as you look up the answers we hope that you will be

(See also

impressed by the broad territory covered in the St. Nich-
olas advertising pages.

Write the names of the advertisers, as they appear in the
March issue, in the order shown by the automobile road-
chart. Number them, and at the end of your list state
how many companies there are which mention New York City
by name in advertisements of any size in the March issue.

Your letter which is to accompany the list may be very
short. If you have ever had anything to say regarding the
purchase of an automobile or anything used in connection
with it, state the facts. If not, tell why you think manufac-
turers of automobiles and their accessories should advertise
their .products to St. Nicholas boys and girls.

As usual, the letter will decide the winners in the case of
equally correct lists.

Here follow the list of prizes and the conditions of the
competition:

One First Prize, $5.00 to the sender of the correct list and the
most interesting letter.

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 consideration of any kind.
Prospective contestants need not be subscribers for St. Nich-
olas in order to compete for the prizes offered.

2. In the upper left-hand corner of your list give name, age, ad-
dress, and the number of this competition (136).

3. Submit answers by April io, 1913. Do not use a pencil. Do
not inclose stamps. Write on one side of your paper only and when
your answer requires two or more sheets of paper, fasten them to-
gether.

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. 136, St.
Nicholas League, Union Square, New York.

page 20.)

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Suggesting, perhaps a new thought — certainly a
true thought — by turning an old saw end for end:

"Perfect makes practice"

. O W you have
over-worked that
true and ancient
adage "practice
makes perfect," to
iniluceyour boys and
girls to take an interest in learning to play.
How constantly and earnestly you have drilled
into them the fact that only by practice and
constant application can they become good
musicians.

You know it is true — we know it is true.
But they don't know it. They don't know
what music is. They don't know what they
are driving at — but they do know one thing
— practicing certainly isn't music.

Have they ever heard a really great piano
player? Have they ever been given any clear
idea of the great things that can be accom-
plished with ten fingers on an ivory keyboard ?
Have your children ever been shown the
reward for the constant hours of drudgery in
learning to play?

But suppose Paderewski were their uncle
and came to see them every afternoon — and
played for an hour or two. Do you think
that you could keep them away from the
piano — from striving to be like him?

There is even a better way than that to
give your boys and girls the incentive they
need — the genuine Pianola Player-piano.
Its presence means that all the great music
masters from Beethoven, Liszt, and Chopin,

to Rosenthal, de
Pachmann and Pad-
erewski, live right
in your home all the
time. In such an
atmosphere as this
your children cannot help but become musi-
cians. Yes — ' 'practice makes perfect. " But
ihepcrfectionof the Pianola Player-piano will
make your children practice — as they never
practiced before — by showing them the glo-
rious end towards which this hard work leads.
When you go to choose your instrument
be sure it is the genuine Pianola Player-piano.
Pianola Piano does not mean just any player-
piano. It is our trade mark name. There is
a gigantic difference, as you will comprehend
when you have heard and seen and played
the genuine Pianola Player-piano. Every
genuine Pianola Player-piano from the least
expensive, at $550.00, to as high as you
care to pay, includes every exclusive Pianola
device such as the Themodist, the Metro-
style and other features just as important —
which no other make of player-piano at any
price can offer you.

Just one store in your city sells the genuine Pianola
Player-piano. Go and hear it demonstrated — and take
your children with you. Also we suggest that you
read "The Pianolist" a book by Gustave Kobbe, on
sale at all bookstores, or if you will write us we will
send it with our compliments. Address Dept. "D"

THE AEOLIAN COMPANY

Aeolian Hall, New York

st. nicholas league
Report on Advertising Competition No. 134

The J udges have left their places at the conference
table, where many hours have been spent look-
ing over the February competitions. The big
light above still shines brightly down on a good-
sized heap of competition papers. These have
been examined and rejected. To one side is a
neatly arranged, but much smaller, pile of answers
waiting to be looked over again and judged on
the merits of the letter, in accordance with the
rules. In this latter pile are the papers in which
all rules have been carefully followed and the
lists of articles correctly given. There are a
larger number of these than there have been
for many months, which indicates a steady prog-
ress on your part in observation and careful work.

The short recess is over, and in file the Judges
to finish their work. Why did n't they stick
to it until they finished, you wonder. Well,
conscientiously to look through and carefully
to judge hundreds of papers is no light task — a
short rest is much appreciated. And in connec-
tion with this work do not think that the hard
hearts of even the sternest of the Judges do
not sometimes feel sorry when some little St.
Nicholas reader who has tried so hard to win
honors, has grown a bit careless or sleepy or
forgetful and allowed a little mistake to creep
into his work, which fairness to all makes it
necessary that we count as an error.

The last step in the judging — that of looking
over the letters — is now under way. How much
youboys and girls have traveled! Somanyofyou
have had such interesting experiences — in Tur-
key,China, England, at the sea-shore,in the moun-
tains, at home. It would almost seem as though
you were a big band of St. Nicholas Brownies.

What pleased us most of all were the many
evidences of your loyalty to St. Nicholas ad-
vertisers. They believe in you, and go to much
trouble and expense to tell you all about their
goods, and now for us to learn how true you
are to them, and how steadily you insist upon

having their goods in spite of difficulties, is
most gratifying. Loyalty is one of the finest
things in the world, boys and girls, and enthu-
siasm is another. You seem to have both, for
this fine old magazine and its advertising friends.

Now to all you splendid boys and girls who did
not win prizes I would say, Don't be discouraged.
Keep on trying, and be more careful each month ;
and some fine day when the postman hands
you your copy of St. Nicholas, there among
the prize-winners you will see your name.

This month we are all off on an automobile
ride among the St. Nicholas advertising folks.
All of you who have not won prizes might take
that ride, as explained in Competition No. 136.

But to return to the letters. A majority of
these were much better than usual, although
some of them, I am afraid, failed to win a high
place because they showed too plainly how
over-anxious you were to make your point.
Those of you who wrote natural, boy and girl
letters in your own style — and there were a
goodly number of these — were those whom the
Judges finally chose as being worthy of St.
Nicholas honors. We are very proud of them.
Here they are :

One First Prize, $5.00:

Helen G. Barnard, age 14, Missouri.
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each: ■

Charlotte P. Edmand, age 16, Massachusetts.

Faye H. Mix, age 16, Connecticut.
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each:

Marion Copeland, age 16, New Jersey.

Archibald DeB. Johnson, age 14, Pennsylvania.

Hilda Potter, age 12, Illinois.
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each:

Marion Reinoehl, age 12, Pennsylvania.

Dorothy Von Olker, age 14, Massachusetts.

Harry Guthmann, age 16, New York.

Marion Howell, age 14, New York.

Helen West Jenks, age 16, New York.

Bessie T. Keens, age 17, Rhode Island.

Irene Clara Smith, age 14, Missouri.

Arthur Newell Moore, age 10, Massachusetts.

Esther R. Harrington, age 13, Massachusetts.

Janet Wurlitzer, age 10, Ohio.
Honorable Mention for uniqueness and originality :

Edith M. Johnston, age 13, D. C.

(See also page 18.)

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

' ■-

<Z^l

A'T-e^-i-p-y" Story'

Chapter II
(This story began in the March issue of this year)

OF course, when the Queen cried ' ' Wait, ' ' everybody stopped to listen.
"Call the wise men! They surely can help us, "she commanded.
So the wise men came and stood solemnly before the Court.

When they heard the tale of the little mortal boy who wouldn't wash
his hands, they grew solemner than ever. With their chins resting on
their canes they pondered and thought, and thought and wondered, —
for you see, there is nothing ugly or dirty in Fairyland.

Finally the wisest old man spoke: "Summon all the boys in the
Fairy Kingdom! " So messengers were sent far and near to call them.
As for the fairy boys, they were greatly alarmed because they were
never called to Court unless they had displeased the Queen. They
wondered whether the fat old cook had told about the stolen pies, —
or whether their arch-enemy, Busy Bee, had reported the plundered
honeycomb. So, as I have said, it was a very grave company of boys
that marched before the Court. The sun shone on their glistening wings
and they shimmered like silver, their little breeches of shiny green and
red leaves glistened, their little blouses of cobweb glistened, but most
of all their hands glistened, for they were white, whiter than snow!

The old wise man looked at them sternly over his horned spectacles,
and then said crossly, "Do you like to wash?" Whereupon the little
fairy boys were so relieved that they laughed with glee, and shouted,
" Yes," so lustily that the poor Court ladies had to hold their ears.

'• Strange," muttered the old wise man, and "strange," muttered all
the other old wise men, and shook their heads mournfully. Then the
wisest old man, who had been thinking, — oh, very deeply, — turned sud-
denly and, pointing a long, accusing finger at the line of smiling boys,
shouted, "Why? Why do you like to wash?" and "why?" "why?"
echoed all the other wise men in chorus.

(To be continued next month)

If you will write The N. K. Fairbank Company, Chicago, and tell them what you think of their Fairy Soap story, they will
send you a copy of their Juvenile History of the United States, free of charge.

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.

WHITE SCOTCH COLLIES

Spring is the best
time to getapuppy,
as it can then play
outdoors all the
time and develop
to best advantage,
and by vacation
time it will be in
fine condition to be
a splendid com-
panion for any
member of the
family. Remem-
ber, a Collie is a
protector as well
as a playmate.
Every line of his
body indicates
beauty, every move-
ment is grace typi-

fied. His deep
chest is proof of
endurance, the
heavy coat insures
hardihood. His
long strong limbs
assure speed, every
touch of his cool
nose is a caress;
his raised ears de-
note alertness and
intelligence, every
wag of his tail spells
sincerity, the gleam
of his eyes means
loyalty and love,
and his bark may
be a welcome to a
friend or a chal-
lenge to the enemy.

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 of children, and dauntless guards of the home or farm. Every boy and girl
has an inborn right to be brought up with a faithful dog to attract them to outdoor play
and protect themonany^ occasion. The tired man, disgusted with the shams and trickery
of the world, has his faith renewed every time he looks into the face of his loyal Collie.
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.uu worth of puppies a year. Kipling said: " Buy a pup
and your money buys love unflinching that cannot lie." Address :

THE ISLAND WHITE SCOTCH COLLIE FARMS, Oshkosh, Wisconsin

a 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.

BOSTON TERRIERS

French Bulls, Collies, Airedales
Any Breed of Dogs, Low Prices

CARPENTER'S

148 Portland Street Boston, Mass.

Scottish Terriers

Offered as companions. Not

given to fighting or roaming.

Best for children's pets.

NEWCASTLE KENNELS

Brookline, Mass.

THE BEST DOG

F.R.CLARK, Prop.

SUNNYBRAE KENNELS(Registered)

Bloomington, III.

Do you love dogs?

Send stamp-for
"Dog Culture" to

SPRATT'S Patent Limited

Newark, N. J.

Money mSquabs <rfS

Learn this immensely rich business!
we teach you; easy work at home; [
everybody succeeds. Start with our
jumbo Homer Pigeons and your success is assured.
Send for large Illustrated Book. Providence
Squab Company, Providence, Rhode Island.

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.

Did you ever play horse? Just think what
fun it would be with a real

Shetland or Welsh Pony!

Mother would see you grow stronger and
healthier every day because you would be
outdoors so much. It would surprise you to
know how little it costs to keep a pony.
Write us and find out.

PINE HILL PONY FARM
724 Forest Street Medford, Mass.

<X5his36ok

Shows How to Train

House, trick and watch
dogs, water and life-saving
dogs. It is practical. 160 pages,
fully illustrated: mailed for 25c.
THE DENT MEDICINE CO.,Newburgh, N. Y.

Buy a St. Bernard

Companion for your child
and guardian of your proper-
ty. Best Kennel in America.

HERCUVEEN KENNELS
Red Bank New Jersey

Airedale Terriers

Most popular dog of the day

The Airedale is the best companion,
watch-dog, andall-round hunting-dog.
Ideal pets for children, faithful, kind,
and wonderful intelligence.

Puppies from $23 up.

Beautiful booklet free.

Elmhurst Airedale Kennels
Kansas City, Mo. Sta. E.

Hinds SCream

50c Jmprodes &wy (bmplejCiott

A toilet cream that is particularly agreeable and refreshing;
that keeps the skin so pure and so clean that it never looks
unwholesome, but always fair, fresh and attractive. It is not
greasy and cannot grow hair.

You should try HINDS Honey and Almond CREAM— Sold by all
dealers. Hinds Cream in bottles 50c, and Hinds Cold Cream in tubes 25c.
Write for Free Samples A. S. HINDS, 74 West St., Portland, Maine

Famous Pictures

By Charles L. Barstow

Lavishly illustrated from copies of famous originals.
!2mo. zjg pages. Price, $0.60 net.

Most of the world's greatpictures are here described in
a simple, yet interesting manner. The child learns to
appreciate these pictures and, at the same time, obtains
a general knowledge of the way in which they were
painted, and the principal facts in the lives of the
painters themselves.

THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, New York

SSS55S5S5gSSSSSSSS55gS5SSSSSgZ^^

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE

A BIG STAMP FIND

THE days of opportunity apparently have by no
means gone by. The whole stamp world is talk-
ing about the recent find of rare stamps in Philadel-
phia. It seems that a dealer in waste paper pur-
chased for about fifty dollars the
accumulated letters of an old firm
there. Upon looking them over, he
discovered on a letter what seemed
to him an unusual stamp. He showed
it to a collector, and the news spread.
It was a copy of the very rare
twenty-cent St. Louis, issued in
1846, and known as the bear stamp,
Catalogue No. 25. Upon further
search more were found, and the waste-paper
dealer now has more copies than all that have ever
before been discovered. Not only has he the twen-
ty-cent, but the five- and ten-cent as well, and in
addition to the rare St. Louis issues are thousands
of other early issues of the United States. It is
thought that the value of the find will exceed a
hundred thousand dollars. We illustrate the St.
Louis bear stamp.

SIAM

WE illustrate this month the stamp of Siani,
bearing the portrait of the new king. This
young king has a name, but it is very, very long —
out of all proportion to his
years. We do not mention it
because we have never twice
seen all of the names spelled
the same. How the poor boy
remembers it all is past under-
standing. But the stamp is
beautiful, and the design new.
At the left is a long rectangle
filled with a floreate ornament,
each scroll ending in a jolly-
looking little figure — the mean-
ing of which we do not know.
On the right is the head of the new king. The value
appears above, and the name of the country below,
both in two languages, the native and English. The
value appears as 2 stg., an abbreviation for satangs.

w^m*^^

ruiiiiinumi

into the waste-baskets, to be disposed of as waste
paper. However, all these stamps are not absolutely
lost to collectors. They may be gotten hold of in
two ways : first, offer to buy from the postmaster the
waste paper from his office. He will probably sell
it to you as cheap as to any one else. Tell him that
you will pay a little more for the paper if he will
keep separate the contents of the waste-baskets of
such clerks as handle the incoming Postal Savings
mail. If he will not sell you the waste paper, he
certainly will tell you to whom he does sell it, and
a visit to that person will usually bring you the
chance to get the official stamps for a very small
premium. Cfl The sheets of the new Parcel Post
stamps contain five rows of nine stamps, forty-five
to the sheet. This is true both of the regular and
due stamps. The regular stamps are all in red, al-
though already there is quite a distinct variety in
the shades. The postage due stamps are the same
size as the regular Parcel Post stamps ; but, with
the exception of the lettering, the design is entirely
of scrollwork, with a numeral in the center. All
denominations of the dues are printed in green.
We have so far seen only the one-cent, two-cent,
five-cent, ten-cent, and twenty-five-cent dues. <| The
new San Francisco Exposition stamps come in sheets
of seventy. There are four values : one-cent, two-
cent, five-cent, and ten-cent. Before long they will
be on sale at all the post-offices. The two-cent was
the last to appear. This was because of an error in
the plate as originally made. In the center of the
stamp is a picture of one of the canal locks. On
the original plate this picture was inscribed "Gatun
Locks" ; this has been changed, and the stamp as
issued reads "Panama Canal." The error was not
discovered until after many thousands of stamps had
been printed. The Department has ordered that all
of these be destroyed, and is taking special pains
that none of the errors reach the public. <J There
is such a book as you mention. It is called the
Standard Postage Stamp Catalogue. It can be pur-
chased from any of our advertisers, and would be
almost invaluable to you. It is really impossible to
arrange a large collection satisfactorily in a blank
album without constant reference to some guide.
Most collections are arranged according to the year
in which the stamps were issued. 'The stamps them-
selves seldom give one a clue to such dates, and only
a catalogue will help us to put them in in their
proper places. The catalogue referred to is the best
and most comprehensive issued in the United States.
<| Whether to collect water-marks or not is a ques-
tion for each collector to decide for himself. All
the largest and best collections have in them all
varieties of water-marks. One of the best things to
be gotten by a lad from his stamp collection is the
habit of observation. The collection of all shades,
minor varieties, perforations, cancelations, and
water-marks helps to develop this faculty of noting
differences. It is not necessary to buy a water-mark
detector, though one is desirable. You can buy from
any photographer for a few cents a sheet of tintype
metal. Place the stamp face down on the black side
of the sheet, and drop upon it a few drops of ben-
zene. This makes the water-mark visible, and is
almost as efficacious as the ordinary benzene-cup.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY

THE IMPERIAL STAMP ALBUM published for
beginners. 1 he best on the mar-
ket. Bound in boards, 1,000 illustrations, spaces for 3,500 stamps.
Price 25c, postage 10c. extra. 108 all different stamps from
Paraguay, Turkey, Venezuela, etc., 10c. Finest approval sheets
of 50 per cent discount. Agents wanted. Write to-day.
Scott Stamp&Coin Co., 127 Madison Ave., New York City.

PHILATELISTS

Outfit No. 1 Contains Stamp Tongs, Watermark Detector,
Pocket Magnifying Glass, Perforation Gauge, and Mill. Scale,
Pocket Stock Book. Price 75 cents post-paid.

Stamp Collectors' outfits from 25 cents to jjSlO.OOin 1913 price
list, free. New 20th Century Album just out.

NEW ENGLAND STAMP CO.

43 Washington Building Boston, Mass.

STAMP ALBUM with 538 genuine stamps, incl. Rhodesia,
/gjljfcv Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania (landscape),
/^jSfXllS Jamaica (waterfalls), etc., only 10c. 100 dif. Japan,
[MI llj India, N. Zld., etc., 5c. Agents wanted 50%. Bifc Bar-
imiJ gain list, coitions, etc., nil Free] We Buy Stamps,
\SgS^ C. E. Hussman StampCo., Dept. I, St. Louis, Mo.

50 VARIETIES STAMPS
FROM 50 DIFFERENT COUNTRIES

sent with our 60% approval sheets for 5c.
Palm Stamp Co., 249 No. CarondeletSt., Los Angeles, Cal.

STAMPS! CHEAP! 333 GENUINE FOR-
|J * rtiT" •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.

RARC.AINS EACH SET 5 CENTS.

12.rt.rvVJ.rt.il ■* .J 1() 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.

FRFF" 'SO Newfoundland, Egypt, etc. Approvals one cent
rl\LL each. Providence Stamp Co., Providence, R. I.

RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India,
y^jgjjs. with Catalogue Free. Postage 2cents. If possible send
/Bjj^Hft names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special
Ik Jm] offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain,
IfMhjWW llc.;40 Fapan,5c; 100 U. S.,20c; 10 Paraguay, 7<_.: 17
W?527 Mexico, 10c; 201 urkey,7c; 10 Persia, 7c; 3 Sudan, 5c;
ViHS^ 10 Chile, 3c; 50 Italy, 19c; 200 Foreign, 10c; 10 Egypt,
7c; 50 Africa,24c; 3 Crete, 3c; 20Denmark, 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.

500 different

$ .45

200 "

.09

8 " Samoa

.40

12 " Bermuda

.25

20 " Panama

.30

9 " Prussia

.10

1000 Different j™™**^ $30 for $1.80

Hayti, 1904 Complete 6 Var. $ .15
Abyssinia, 1895 "7 .45

Prince Ed. Island " 4 ' .35

N. F'ndl'd, 1890& '98 " 15 " .30
Nyassa, Giraffes, '01 " 13 " .25
. Canada " 35 " .20

Gold California $\, each 35c; jjl, each 65c; 25 diff. Foreign
Coins, 25c; Roman Silver (Caesar), 45c

Jos. F. Negreen, 8 East 23d, New York City.

SNAPS 20° ALL DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS
Om.rt.riJ for only 10c. 65 All Dif. U. S. including old issues
of 1853-1861, etc.; revenue stamps, $1.00 and $2.00 values, etc., for
only lie 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.
32 Cambridge Building Cincinnati, Ohio

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 100 VARIETIES POREIGN, FREE. Postage 2c.
Mention St. Nicholas. Quaker Stamp Co., Toledo, Ohio.

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.

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 SB)
bargains 2c Agts., 5o%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. iS

C VARIETIES PERU FREE.

** With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N.Y.

FREE. 108 Foreign Stamps, Album, & Catalogs, for 2c postage.
Payn Stamp Co., 138 No. Wellington St., Los Angeles, Cal.

Your Choice of these Stamps Free!

No stamp collector can afford to collect without MykeeVs
Weekly Stamp News. You might just as well go fishing
without hook or line. How do you know how to avoid rub-
bish? How do you know what to pay for stamps? My keel's
gives you all the news about stamps and offers thousands of
stamp bargains. Only 50c. per year.

SPECIAL OFFER— 25c. for 6 months and Choice of these Premiums:
A packet of 205 all different clean foreign stamps.
A nice collection of 100 all different United States stamps.
A book on United States stamps, fully illustrated.
A Bice stamp album that will hold 1200 stamps.

ANOTHER SPECIAL OFFER— 10 weeks, 10c. and YOUR CHOICE:
A nice packet, " all over the world " foreign stamps.
A collection of 50 all different U. S. stamps.
A leaflet describing and illustrating U. S. stamps.

CLASS PINS

« 17 i ell pifa Like hnri pry wolves

' * 1B1' *»mt.^ any time of the year

if you use M agio- Fish .Lore. Best

fish bait ever discovered. Keeps you busy

gulling them out. Write to-day and get a
ox to help introduce it. Agents wanted.
J. V. Gregory, Dept 118 , St. Louis, Mo

PATRONIZE the advertisers who
use ST. NICHOLAS— their pro-
ducts are worthy of your attention.

Model Yachts

Three beautiful mechanical drawings, showing how to make a modern
racing yacht ; sent upon receipt of 75 cents, coin or postal order.

THE LETHR1DGE MODEL YACHT CLUB
309 19th Street Lethridge, Alberta, Canada

RIDER AGENTS WANTED

in each town to ride and exhibit sample 1913 model. Write
/or Special Offer. Finest 0f/l«- CO 7
Guaranteed 1913 Models^' V *0 qHZ £
with Coaster-Brakes and Puncture-Proof Tires.
1911 and 1913 MODELS 47 tn <*#0
ALL OF BEST MAKES V * '° 9 *^

100 Second-Hand Wheels

All makes and models, good as neia 0^ m~ &0
Great Factory Clearing Sale. V«* «*» W
We Ship on Approval without a cent

fSSSitZiSl IP O^ys9 Free Trial

TIOC^ coaster-brake wheels, lamps, and
m #Flfc« sundries, half usual prices. DO NOT

BUY till you get our catalogue and offer. Write now.

MEAD CYCLE CO. Dept. K-373 CHICAGO

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

RUBBER BUTTON

Hose Supporter

For Lively Little People

Running, jumping, kneeling,
stretching, growing youngsters need
something light, substantial and se-
cure to hold their stockings neatly. That some-
thing is ftte/f^/tifr Rubber Button Hose Sup-
porter. JIlso made in many styles for Women.
Get the real f£&ef<^fafr and be satisfied.

Sold Everywhere

GEORGE FROST CO., MAKERS, BOSTON

rfj JmltaActi, JUBtidj Jtaillam Jk

late Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Grounc

zid Chocolate Ground Ch>

r. ' dr^M^^A new
^[Chocolate Product

a 4 -^ *%

and Chocolo

M: Grouna

WChocoi

^ Ground
Chocolate

(VANILLA FLAVOR)

^f^pecially prepared
" .for immediate use

MALI

"Most exquisite

'"^[asaliot beverage. fcSLj

,iate.G^mry it to-day.

>*A.\, leading

mnd Chocolate Ground Cho^^ ffrogere. ..■x:^/0ff,"dChoco1

:olate' Ground Chocolate, Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Grou

ound Chocolate Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Ground Choco

Hundreds of City Hospitals and Public Schools
discarded feather dusters because they scatter dust and
germs. Why should you not dust the easy, sanitary,
right way, too — the dustless 3-in-One way?

Put a little 3-in-One on a piece of cheese cloth. Then
wipe your mantel, buffet, piano, dining table, any var-
nished or veneered surface. Every single atom of dust
collects on the cheese cloth. None can fly around.

3-in-One is absolutely free from grease or acid. Posi-
tively will not leave any residue on furniture to rub off
and injure the most delicate dress fabric. Will not dis-
color or stain the finest wood-work.

3-in-One is the all-around Household oil, Lubricates
perfectly locks, clocks, sew ingmachines, and everything
that needs oiling. Cleans and polishes furniture and fix-
tures in the most satisfactory way. Prevents rust on all
metal surfaces, indoors and out.

Write today for a generous free
bottle and the free dictionary
that is so helpful to housekeepers. Get both now !

Sold at all good stores in 3-size bottles — 10c. — 25c. —
and new size 'A pint for 'A dollar.

Free Oil For You.

3-IN-ONE OIL CO.

42QG Broadway NEW YORK

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.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

I'M GOING

EVINRUDING

*TPHE lake is mine. The river too and
every little inlet of the bay, because
I "Evinrude" to where I want to go. I go
alone if I wish or I fill the boat with
Eight miles an hour I glide
through the waters and the pro-
peller never did know a weed.
My

IT WEIGHS BUT
FIFTY POUNDS

and IT CARRIES

LIKE A SATCHEL.

Brother John takes it

whenever he goes on

fishing trips to the

lakes, and he savs

that's why he gets fish.

This motor doesn't

with its merry little purr of two crank vou know; we

full horse power, will fit any row slmply, ^ive .*** flv
i • .j •■ wheela swing and

boat; mine or a rented one and presto, We>re .,Evin.

it s so simple that I operate it ruding" through tie
myself. water.

Illustrated catalog sent upon request.

EVINRUDE MOTOR CO.,

251 M Street MILWAUKEE, WIS.

Members of National Association of Engine & Boat Manufacturers

New York City Show Room Hudson Terminal Bldg 30 Church St.

Western Agents: Woodhouse Gasoline Engine Co., 62 Marion fit.,

Seattle, Wash.; A. Hebgen, 61 Market St., San Francisco

Cal. ; F. G. Epton. Box 829, Foitland, Oregon.

The brake that saves!

Corbin

Coaster Brake

is to your wheel what the
air brake is to a locomotive.

Fitted to your wheel at any
bicycle repair shop. Gives
you instant control, prevents accidents.
The two-speed model is an immense assistance
when riding on up-grades and against strong
head winds. Invaluable to elderly riders
especially. Corbin Brakes are operated solely
by the pedal. Simple, strong and reliable.
Send for 1913 free catalog s homing
all Corbin Brakes, Hubs and Axles

Corbin Screw Corporation Division

(American Hardware Corporation)
306 High Street New Britain, Conn.

Lioensed Coaitet Brake Manufacturers

Before you do any

fly fishing;, ask your

dealer to show you the

new "BRISTOL" No. 29

— the lightest steel Fly Rod made.
Only 5 % oz. It is the fishing-rod
sensation of the year. Price $6. 50

"BRISTOL" Fly Rods Nos. 9 and 14 are
so popular because their flexibility and
balance delight both novice and expert.
Each S6.50. All "BRISTOLS" are
guaranteed three years. Your dealer
has the exact "BRISTOL" you like. If
not, we will supply you. Send for the

NEW ART CATALOG-FREE

(illustrated below)

It illustrates and describes fully

all "BRISTOLS."

THE HORTON MFG. CO.
167 Horlon St., Bristol, Conn.

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Coward

Shoe

REG. U S. PAT. OFF.

Broad Toe.

Extension Heel

For Children whose
ankles "turn-in"

Do not put weak ankles in braces
when they need bridges. Don't try
to straighten them without strengthening
them.

Give ankles that " turn-in," the help of
Coward Arch Support Shoes, and they
will have instant relief and constant
benefit. Built to help without hinder-
ing— to support without torturing. A
practical, corrective style of shoe for
weak ankles, falling arch and "flat-foot."

Made by J. S. Coward, P. D., and
endorsed and recommended by
physicians and surgeons.

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)

\ Murray^ LanmAns !

FloridaWkter

Makes the daily bath a posi-
tive luxury. Its world-wide use
for over a century has empha-
sized the delightful qualities of
this matchless toilet perfume.

Leading Druggists sell it.
Accept no Substitute!

Sample sent on receipt
of six cents in stamps.

& K

a n m a n

13S Water St., New York

e m p

MENNEN'S

"FOR MINE"

mennen s Talcum ruwm

keeps my skin in healthy condition.
Sample Box for 4c. stamp. [ j

GERHARD MENNEN CO. <^Vr

Newark, N. J. T..je m

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

It Takes a Strong Boy
to Become a Leader

To be the captain of your football or baseball
team a fellow must have proven that he can play a
little better and a little harder than the rest. He must
have shown his team-mates that they can always de-
pend on him to do a difficult thing and do it well.

That is precisely the reason that the Company
which makes

United States Tires

has come to be known all over the world as the leader
among tire makers.

Way back in the bicycle days, the companies that now make
up the United States Tire Company (Morgan & Wright, G & J,
Hartford and Continental) proved that they could make stronger,
longer-wearing tires than other makers. And they have kept
that record ever since.

When you buy tires for your bicycle, or when your father or
brother buy tires for their automobile or motorcycles, the safest
way is to buy tires made by the leader among tire makers.

UNITED STATES TIRE COMPANY

NEW YORK

-V:-..: ■ <■■>■■<

iMMMM

KKSSBSKSSSS

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

Yellowstone Park

€| Plan now to visit America's Only Geyserland during sea-
son June 15 to September 15, 1913. Geysers, Cataracts, Can-
yons, Beasts, Birds, Fish. Snow-capped peaks, mirror
lakes, dashing streams swarming with trout. Don't fail to
see this region of Nature's surprises ! Go via only line to
Gardiner Gateway — the northern and original entrance to
Park. Write for illustrated booklets and information and
plan your trip non>. Address

A. M. CLELAND. General Passenger Agent, ST. PAUL, MINN.

q Northern

Railway q

Manama-Pacific -International Exposition, San Francisco, February -December, 1915

Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone and Qreat Falls

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^M

The expert

is able to distinguish the difference between
wines of different ages or coffees of different
countries.

It is not necessary, however, to possess a
trained sense of taste to distinguish between
the delicious flavor of Peter's Milk Chocolate
and other milk chocolates.

Peter's superiority is evident to everybody.

stands in a class by itself. If you will simply
try it you will realize keenly that Peter's Milk
Chocolate is unapproachable for its purity
and its delicious true chocolate flavor.

Peter's stands alone!

Be sure and get

Peter's when you

ask for milk chocolate

High as the Alps in Quality "

ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS

When the circus comes to
town, it is not the show alone
that fascinates, but the immen-
sity of numbers, the quickness
of movement, the sureness of
operation and the efficiency which keeps
everything as bright as new in spite of the
soil of travel and weather. For instance —

Is it not surprising how the gilded figures
and scroll work on the menagerie and
parade wagons are kept so brilliant ? It is
evident that circus men know how to clean

They use Ivory Soap and nothing but
Ivory Soap.

Because it is mild and pure and free from
alkali, Ivory Soap does not hurt the gild-
ing. And because it contains no free oil,
it is rinsed off easily, leaving the finish
beautifully clear and bright.

With the circus people using Ivory Soap
for this purpose all through the season,
the housewife may be certain that there is
nothing surer or safer for cleaning gilded
articles in the home.

gold leaf without injury.

Here is an Excellent Way to Clean Gold Frames

Shave half of a small cake of Ivory Soap into a pint of water and boil for five minutes.
When cool, apply this jelly with a very soft brush or sponge. Then, with a clean
soft brush or sponge, apply cold, clear water and let dry immediately in a warm place.

IVORY SOAP

99ft* PURE

"My grocer tells me
that his most par-
ticular customers

insist on having

Canned
Foods

"I always keep my pantry stocked with Libby's foods
for I know from experience that every Libby product
is just the best I can get."

Always buy Libby's California Fruits, Hawaiian Pineapple, Canned Meats,
Soups, California Asparagus and Evaporated Milk.

Every Educated Physician

Will Tell You Upon Inquiry

That the soft gray filling of the nerve centres, including the brain, is made up of
water, albumen and Phosphate of Potash, as the largest ingredients —

And that when the nerve centres are rebuilt every day as fast as worn by use,
the individual is equipped to keep well.

Grape = Nuts

FOOD

Was specially designed to provide nutrition for both body and brain. It is rich in
Phosphate of Potash, the vital salt of gray nerve tissue, often lacking in the usual diet.

A dish of Grape-Nuts and cream regularly for breakfast will show

t (

There's a Reason"

Uihxi Y'1^

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