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ST. NICHOLAS: 



AN 



D M 



LLUSTRATED IVlAGAZINE 



For Young Folks. 



VOLUME XL. 
Part II. — May to October, 1913. 



T HE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK 

FREDERICK WARNE & CO., LONDON, 
ft 



Copyright, 1913, by The Century Co. 



The De Vinne Press. 



en 



Library, Umv.* 
NoiihCarobo* 



ST. NICHOLAS: 



VOLUME XL. 



PART II. 

Six Months — May to October, 191 3. 



A 



CONTENTS OF PART II. VOLUME XL. 



Agassiz, Jean Louis Rodolphe : See "More Than Conquerors" 868 

April, In. Verse Ernestine Cobern Beyer . . 591 

Attic Window, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Frances Evans Ingersoll) Isabel Ecclestone Mackay. 908 

Base-ball: The Great American Game. (Illustrated from photographs) . . .C. H. Clandy 

The Base-ball Guessing Match 612 

Signals and Signal-Stealing 7 l 4 

Managers and Their Work 799 

"The World's Series" 884, ioo5, 1109 

Battle-Ships in Action, Risks of Photographing. (Illustrated from pho- 
tographs) : E. Muller, Jr 834 

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

Alien Arthur Knipe 621 

702, 791, 891, 981, 1 100 

Bees, Honey-, Geometry for. Picture. Drawn by E. G. Lutz 709 

Blue-Grass Girl, A. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea and John Edwin Jackson) William H. Woods 687 

Boats, A Rhyme of. Verse. (Illustrated by G. H. Mitchell) Ruth Shepard Phelps 900 

Bobby and the First Officer. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) George Phillips 964 

Boys' Camp, A Day at a. (Illustrated from photographs) George W. Orton 1071 

Boys' Clubs : 

California's Outdoor Boys' Club. (Illustrated from photographs) Day Allen Willcy 776 

The Major's Boys. (Illustrated from photographs) Eloise Roorbach 779 

A Day at a Boys' Camp. (Illustrated from photographs) George W. Orton 1071 

Boys, The Major's. (Illustrated from photographs) Eloise Roorbach 779 

"Breakfast, What Have You Brought Us for." Picture. From photo- 
graph by Nancy Ford Coues 631 

Brownie Boy, To a. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) George O. Butler 979 

Brownies at Haymaking, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Palmer Cox 922 

California's Outdoor Boys' Club. (Illustrated from photographs) Day Allen Willey 776 

Chafing-Dish Party, The First, of the Season. Picture. Drawn by M. L. 

MacMillan 1069 

Cherry-Pie, The Other. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Anna May Cooper 820 

Chicks and the Rubber Band, The Greedy. Picture. Drawn by C. F. Lester 732 

Chrystie's Event. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Margaret Johnson 1076 

Circus in Grassville, A "Three-ring." Picture. Drawn by Arthur T. Mer- 
rick 620 

City Child, The. Picture. Drawn by Sanford Toosey 891 

City Greenhorn, A. (Illustrated by Edwin F. Bayha) F. Lovell Coombs 692 

Curly- Wig and Dimple-Cheek. Verse. (Illustrated from photograph) Robert Emmet Ward 937 

Daisy "Cuttings" for July. Picture. Drawn by Grace M. Buck 807 



vi CONTENTS 

PAGE 

"David and Goliath." Picture. Drawn by Arthur T. Merrick 611 

Day-Nursery Babies, A June Sun-Bath for the. Picture. Drawn by Jes- 
sie Willcox Smith 712 

Difficulties of Mary, the Cook, The. Picture. Drawn by C. M. Relyea 819 

Dinner for Three. (Illustrated by William F. Stecher) Harold William Fifcrlik. . 578 

Discovery of the Pole, The. Pictures. Drawn by I. W. Taber 1092 

Dog Togo, Little. (Illustrated by Clara Atwood) Edith Davidson 605 

Dolls' Wedding, A. (Illustrated from photographs) Mary and Marjory Woods 744 

Empty Troubles. Verse. (Illustrated) S. E. Riser 604 

"Everygirl." Play. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan) Rachel Lyman Field 1115 

Fairy Castle, The. Verse. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) Margaret A. Dole 1096 

Fairy's Gift, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) Adalcna F. Dyer 968 

Faith. ("Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects") George Lawrence Parker . 713 

Fire-Beigades, Glimpses of Foreign. (Illustrated from photographs) Charles T. Hill 972 

Flamingos, The Clever. Pictures. Drawn by DeWitt Clinton Falls 698, 810, 988, 1148 

Flower-Seller, The Little. Picture. Painted by Orrin Peck 582 

Fortune in a Flower, A. (Illustrated by John Edwin Jackson) Harriet Prcscott Spofford. 592 

"Fourteenth of July, Hurrah for the." (Illustrated from photographs) . .Mabel Alberta Spicer 879 

"Freshman Freak, The." (Illustrated by E. C. Caswell) Margaret Warde 1013 

Garden-Making and Some of the Garden's Stories. (Illustrated by Flor- 
ence E. Storer, Albertine R. Wheelan, Theresa Sturm Rogers, and Fran- 
ces E. Ingersoll) Grace Tabor 

The Story of Bad Earth and Good Earth and the Prisoners of Hope 632 

The Story of the Wicked Dwarfs 728 

The Story of the Rebels who are Never Tamed and the Keepers of the 

Peace 830 

The Story of Hunger and Food 909 

The Story of the Enchanted Caskets and Their Invisible Key . . . .■ 1019 

The Story of a Far Land and the Going Hence 1093 

Grass Rug and— Other Things, Our. (Illustrated by Florence E. Storer) . . Elisabeth Price 875 

Hair-cut Man, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Gertrude A. Kay) Melville Chater 998 

Hawk, The. Picture. Painted by Charles C. Curran ._ 917 

Helen of Troy. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Charles Francis Potter. . . . 958 

In Spite of Appearances. Verse. (Illustrated by Tony Nell) Robert Emmet Ward 1108 

Irving, Washington : See "More Than Conquerors" 583 

"Ivanhoe Had Lived To-day, If." Picture. Drawn by Arthur T. Merrick 648 

Jack. Verse. (Illustrated) Mabel Livingston Frank. . 697 

Land of Mystery, The. (Illustrated by Jay Hambidge, Corwin K. Linson, 

R. Talbot Kelly, Philippoteaux, Jules Guerin, and from photographs) . . . Cleveland Moffett 597 

720, 812, 901, 990, 1 1 18 

Lesson, Her. Verse. (Illustrated by S. Wendell Mitchell) Pauline Frances Camp. . . . 685 

Lesson in Patience, A. Picture. Drawn by C. M. Relyea 1060 

Lie-Awake Songs. Verse. (Illustrated by S. Wendell Mitchell) Amelia Josephine Burr . . . 883 

Lilac-Tree, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Katherine G. Peirson) Laura Spencer Portor. . . . 686 

Little Goose-Girl, The. Picture. From photograph by Nancy Ford Coues 1126 

Livingstone, David : See "More Than Conquerors" 678 

London "Zoo," The. (Illustrated by the Author) Dorothy Furniss 1002 

Marine Band, The. Picture. Drawn by Sears Gallagher 879 

May-Day Festival, The "Royal." (Illustrated from photographs) M. L. Andrews 674 

"Me Loves '00." Picture. Painted by M. Goodman 645 

Men Who Do Things, With. (Illustrated by Edwin F. Bayha, from photo- 
graphs, and diagrams) A. Russell Bond 638 

735, 822, 927, 1023, 1084 
Miss Santa Claus of the Pullman. I. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) ... Annie Fellows Johnston. .1061 

Mister Rat. Verse. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) James Rowc 798 

"Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary." Picture. Drawn by Frances Evans 

Ingersoll 833 



CONTENTS vn 

PAGE 

Monarch and the Viceroy, The. Verse Hattie Vose Hall 882 

More Than Conquerors. Biographical Sketches. (Illustrated by Oscar F. 

Schmidt, and from photographs) Ariadne Gilbert 

The Sunny Master of "Sunnyside." (Washington Irving) 583 

The Torch-Bearer of the Dark Continent. (David Livingstone) 678 

A Swiss Boy and His Wanderings. (Jean Louis Rodolphe Agassiz) 868 

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

"The Fair Maid who, the First of May"— "Little Jumping Joan" 577 

"As I was going to St. Ives"— "Two legs sat upon three legs" 673 

"There was an old woman lived under a hill" Facing page 769 

Pussy-Cat, Pussy-Cat— Little Bo-Peep— Three Blind Mice 865, 867 

A Ten O'Clock Scholar 961 

Poor Old Robinson Crusoe! — Dr. Foster Went to Gloucester— Jack be 

Nimble— Fiddle-de-dee, Fiddle-de-dee 1001 

Hey! Diddle, Diddle— See-saw, sacaradown— Lady Bird, Lady Bird, Fly 
Away Home — Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush — Cock a Doodle 

Doo ! 1057 

Mother's Best Umbrella. Verse. (Illustrated by Reginald Birch) Lucy Lincoln Montgomery .1098 

"Nanette." Picture. Painted by W. J. Baer 695 

New France, A Brave Little Maid of. (Illustrated by Norman Price) Hannah Bryant 769 

Nightmare, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Anna May Cooper 1000 

Nobel Prizes for the Promotion of Peace, The. (Illustrated from photo- 
graph) Dorothy Dudley Leal 808 

Nonsense Song, A. Verse Oscar Llewelyn 732 

Old Fables Brought up to Date. (Illustrated by the Author) C. J. Budd 

The Two Goats 733 

Orc and His Globular Island, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Robert C. 

Benchley) . . , E. L. McKinney 1070 

Otter, The Playful. (Illustrated by the Author) /. M. Gleeson 618 

Photographing Battle-Ships in Action, Risks of. (Illustrated from photo- 
graphs) E. Muller, Jr 834 

Phyllis Sails with Father, When. (Illustrated from photographs by the 

Author) Augusta Huiell Seaman . . 918 

"Playin' Bride." Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) E. W. Kemble 727 

Pointed Suggestion, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) George O. Butler 979 

Polly in France. Verse. (Illustrated by Mabel Betsy Hill) Rebecca Denting Moore. . . 998 

Rainbow Colors. Verse. (Illustrated by Bruce Horsfall) Mabel Livingston Frank. . 963 

Ready for the Plunge. Picture. Drawn by M. L. MacMillan 899 

"Relatives, So Many." Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) George O. Butler 829 

Roads. Verse. (With picture from painting by Charles C. Curran) Miriam Clark Potter 784 

Roller-Skating. Verse. (Illustrated by Gertrude A. Kay) Melville Chater 628 

Rose that went to the City, The Margaret Eytinge 740 

Rosebud, The. Verse. (Illustrated by E. C. Caswell) Carolyn Wells 719 

Sand Waves of Oregon, The. (Illustrated from photograph) Day Allen Willey 696 

"Seeing the World." Picture. Drawn by Gertrude A. Kay 821 

Settling the Question. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) George O. Butler 677 

Shoot-'Em-on-a-Rock. (Illustrated by John Edwin Jackson) Isola Forrester 805 

"Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects" : Faith George Lawrence Parker. 713 

Snail's Pace, The. Verse. (Illustrated) Amos R. Wells 734 

Swimming, Up-to-Date Methods for Success in. (Illustrated from photo- 
graphs) L. DeB. Handley 913 

"Tears, The Tyranny of." Picture. Drawn by Zaidee Morrison 1083 

Toucan and the Chickadee, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) George O. Butler 921 

Tree-Top Romance. Verse. (Illustrated by Gertrude A. Kay) Melville Chater 710 

Trick Boat, Percy Ray's. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) Nathan Haskell Dole 785 

Vacation Song, A Gay. Verse Louise Seymour Hasbrouck 828 

Vercheres, Madeleine : See "New France, A Brave Little Maid of" 769 



VIII 



CONTENTS 



Visit to Grandmama, A. Verse. (Illustration from painting by D. A. C. 

Artz ) Frances W. Marshall 630 

Yellow-Throat, The Maryland. Verse. (Illustrated) Le Roy Titus Weeks 734 

"Zoo," The London. (Illustrated by the Author) Dorothy Furniss 1002 



FRONTISPIECES 

"The Fair Maid who, the First of May," painted by Arthur Rackham, facing page 577 — "As I was 
going to St. Ives," painted by Arthur Rackham, facing page 673 — "There was an old woman lived 
under a hill," painted by Arthur Rackham, facing page 769—" Little Bo-Peep," drawn by Arthur Rack- 
ham, facing page 867 — The Little Doctor, from a painting by Arthur J. Elsley, facing page 963 — " Hey, 
Diddle, Diddle, the Cat and the Fiddle! " painted by Arthur Rackham, facing page 1057. 



DEPARTMENTS 
For Very Little Folk. (Illustrated) 

When Little Bear Had His Own Way Frances Margaret Fox . . . 649 

Bye-Low Land. Verse Margaret G. Hays 747 

How Little Bear Went to a Picnic Frances Margaret Fox . . . 841 

The Two Engines Agnes O. Fugitt 938 

A Summer in a Sea-shore Bungalow Robert Emmet Ward 1034 

The Naughty Little Rabbit Katharine L. Edgerly 1 130 

Nature and Science. (Illustrated) 652, 748, 844, 940, 1036, 1132 

St. Nicholas League. (Illustrated) 660, 756, 852, 948, 1044, 1140 

Books and Reading. (Illustrated) Hildegarde Hawthorne . . . 646 

741, 838, 934, 1031, 1 127 

The Letter-Box. (Illustrated) 668, 765, 861, 956, 1052, 1150 

The Riddle-Box. (Illustrated) .671, 767, 862, 959, 1055, 1151 




MOTHER GOOSE" PICTURES BY ARTHUR RACKHAM 

Vol. XL, No. 7 IVIAl , lyio PRICE, 25 CENTS 

S T 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. 



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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



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ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




TThe entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission.] 

CONTENTS OF ST. NICHOLAS FOR MAY, 1913. 

Frontispiece. "The Fair Maid who, the First of May." Painted for 

St. Nicholas by Arthur Rackham. Page 

The Nursery Rhymes of Mother Goose: " The Fair Maid who, the 

First of May." "Little Jumping Joan." 577 

Illustrated by Arthur Rackham. 

Dinner for Three. Story Harold William Fiferlik 578 

Illustrated by William F. Stecher. 

The Little Flower-Seller. Picture. Painted by Orrin Peck ' . . . 582 

More Than Conquerors: The Sunny Master of "Sunnyside." Bio- 
graphical Sketch Ariadne Gilbert 583 

Illustrated by Oscar F. Schmidt, and from photographs. 

In April. Verse ' Ernestine Cobern Beyer 591 

A Fortune in a Flower. Story Harriet Prescott Spofford 592 

Illustrated by John Edwin Jackson. 

The Land of Mystery. Serial Story Cleveland Moffett 597 

Illustrated by Jay Hambidge, Corwin K. Linson, R. Talbot Kelly, and from 
photographs. 

Empty Troubles. Verse s. E. Kiser 604 

Illustrated. 

Little Dog Togo. Story Edith Davidson 605 

Illustrated by Clara Atwood'. 

"David and Goliath." Picture. Drawn by Arthur T. Merrick 611 

The Base-ball Guessing Match. (The Great American Game — First 

Paper.) C. H. Claudy 612 

Illustrated from photographs. 

The Playful Otter. Sketch : J. M. Cleeson 618 

Illustrated by the Author. 

A "Three-ring" Circus in Grassville. Picture. Drawn by A. T. M 620 

Beatrice of Denewood. Serial Story ) XfZ"™! 6 a " d \ 621 

Illustrated by C.M.Relyeu. ( Alden Arthur Knlpe / 

Roller-Skating. Verse Melville Chater 628 

Illustrated by Gertrude A. Kay. 

A Visit to Grandmama. Verse Frances w. Marshall 630 

Illustration from painting by D. A. C. Artz. 

"What Have You Brought Us for Breakfast?" Picture. From 

photograph by Nancy Ford Coues 631 

Garden-Making and Some of the Garden's Stories: I. "The Story of 

Bad Earth and Good Earth and the Prisoners of Hope." Grace Tabor 632 

Illustrated by Florence E. Storer and Albertine R. Wheelan. 

With Men Who Do Things. Serial A. Russell Bond 638 

Illustrated by Edwin F. Bayha, and from photographs. 

" Me Loves 'OO." Picture. Painted by M. Goodman 645 

Books and Reading Hildegarde Hawtiiorne 646 

Illustrated. 

" If Ivanhoe Had Lived To-day ! " Picture 648 

For Very Little Folk : 

When Little Bear Had His Own Way. Story Frances Margaret Fox 649 

Illustrated by George A. Harker. 

Nature and Science for Young Folks 652 

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

Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles 660 

Illustrated. 

The Letter-Box 668 

Illustrated. 

The Riddle-Box 671 

St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 26 

The Century Co, and its editors receive manuscripts and art material, submitted for Publication, only on the understanding that they shall 
not be responsible for loss or injury thereto zvhile in their possession or in tra?zsit. Copies of manuscripts should be retaz7ied by the authors. 

In the United States and Canada, the price of The St. Nicholas Magazine is $3.00 a year in advance, or 25 cents a 

single copy, without discount or extra inducement of any kind. Foreign postage is 60 cents extra when subscribers abroad wish the 
magazine mailed directly from New York to them. We request that remittance be by money order, bank check, draft, or registered letter. 
The Century Co. reserves the right to suspend any subscription taken contrary to its selling terms, and to refund the unexpired credit. 

The half-yearly parts of ST. NICHOLAS end with the October and April numbers respectively, and the red cloth covers are ready 
with the is?ue 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 dis- 
tinctly marked with owner's name. Bound volumes are not exchanged for numbers. PUBLISH ED MONTH L Y 

,,,,. . ,,., ,, r »-• , .,„,,„-,„ ««^-«»t»-i-»»-«.»» « «. AVILLIAM W. ELLSWORTH, President 

ah»«,'»™ ' THE CENTURY CO. ira h. brainerd, vice-Pr\side„t 

1KA n. KKAlNJiKD, - DONAI D SCOTT Treasurer 

GEORGE INNESS.jR Union Square, NeW York, N. Y. JOSIAH J HAZEN. Ass'l Treasurer 

Trustees "1 > > DOUGLAS Z. DOTY, Secretary 



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 1 1 
and tell their friends about the treats in St. Nicholas, and their friends will ask their parents to subscribe. 
5[ St. Nicholas is counting on you for six new friends. 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



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I St. Nicholas in 1913 is a better comrade than ever for boys and girls of all ages. Beside the splendid serials 
here will be scores of short stories, jolly jingles, beautiful pictures, and interesting, valuable articles. 

II Three dollars a year. The Century Co., Union Square, New York. 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




Date of issue April 18 



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Date of issue April 18 



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THE FAIR MAID WHO THE FIRST OF MAY 

PAINTED FOR ST. NICHOLAS BY ARTHUR RACKHAM 



ST. NICHOLAS 



Vol. XL 



MAY, 1913 



No. 7 






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Vol. XL.— 73. 



Copyright, 1913, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 
577 



DINNER FOR THREE 



BY HAROLD WILLIAM FIFERLIK 



An anxious frown wrinkled the otherwise smooth 
forehead of Miss Sarah Willis as she settled her- 
self more comfortably beside Mrs. Francis's big 
lounging-chair at the window. " 'T ain't as if I 
would n't be glad to have somebody," she said 
seriously. "I ain't young as I was once, Millie, 
and it seems as if sometimes there 's a little more 
than I can do. If 't was a girl now, one that was 
neat and handy with housework, it would be just 
as nice as could be. But a boy ! I don't b'lieve 
I can do it." 

Mrs. Francis sat erect among her pillows and 
nodded with interest. "Boys is all alike," she re- 
marked, "noise and dirt and turning things up- 
side down." 

"That 's been mostly my experience with 'em," 
Miss Willis agreed. "I ain't seen Bruce since 
he was a little tyke, but—" 

"How old did you say he was, Sarah?" 

"He must be going on fifteen, I think. Every 
time I 've been to Alice's, though, he 's been off 
a-camping, or away to school, or somewhere. 
She always let him do just about as he had a 
mind to. And that 's another thing— he 's prob'ly 
spoiled through and through." 

Again the patient in the big chair nodded. 
"And there wa' n't a thing left for him when his 
ma died?" she inquired. "I 'd always s'posed 
from what you said they was well provided for." 

"That 's what everybody else thought," Miss 
Willis explained. "But after she was gone and 
things was looked into, they found that most of it 
had frittered away here and there. He '11 have a 
little, but not near enough to keep him and send 
him to school. Somebody '11 have to take him, 
and I 'm his nearest kin — Alice was own cousin 
to me. Anyway, I told 'em I 'd look him over." 

"Where 's he been this month since she died?" 

"With some neighbors, them Claywaters. But 
'tween you and me, I don't think they can keep 
him much longer. For all the style they put on 
and the table they set, 1 know they don't much 
more than keep in the road. And that makes me 
think that I 've got to go," she added. "Henry 
Claywater himself is coming up with Bruce on 
the ten-forty, and I 've laid out to get a little 
extra dinner. I won't have him going back and 
blabbing to all the friends I 've made there in 
Petersville that things wa' n't up to snuff." She 
rose and adjusted her shawl determinedly about 
her plump shoulders. 

At these signs of departure, the alert look left 



the patient's face, and it became woebegone. She 
sighed dolefully. 

Miss Willis bent and patted her neighbor's 
hand. "Now, don't you fret, Millie. If anything 
should happen, you 've only got to send Martha 
hippering across the garden, and I '11 be right 
here. I 'd stay longer, but there 's roast beef, and 
scalloped potatoes, and lemon-pie, and—" She 
glanced at a clock in an adjoining room. "My 
stars, it 's after ten a'ready ! Good-by, Millie. 
I '11 run in 'fore dark, anyhow, and tell you what 
I 've done about the boy." 

And then, with the frown again on her face, 
Miss Willis bustled from the room. As she de- 
scended the steps, she espied a stout, placid-faced 
girl coming from the garden with a panful of ripe 
tomatoes and called to her: "Martha! If Mis' 
Francis should get worse or anything, you '11 
come over and call me !" 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Miss Willis hurried away. Crossing her own 
tidy little yard, where old Uncle Peter, the village 
handy-man, was raking up the leaves that had 
drifted down from the poplars which were in- 
terspersed among the maples along the walk, she 
was aware that she, too, had nerves, and that they 
were becoming more and more tightly strung as 
the hour of ten-forty drew near. The sight of 
the snug, white house dozing in the September 
sunshine made her draw a deep breath. 

" 'T won't be much like this if that boy gets 
here. I declare, it— it don't seem as if I could— 
Well, I ain't said I would. I '11 have to see." 

As she was passing through the dining-room, 
she stopped to take from the old-fashioned side- 
board a snowy table-cloth, napkins, and the 
quaint, well-cared-for silver that was her pride. 

"I '11 lay 'em here and come back to set the 
table after I 've got the other things started," she 
said, half aloud. 

She went on into the kitchen, put aside her 
shawl, and briskly donned an apron. "Now, let 's 
see. The roast 's all ready ; I '11 put it in in a 
minute. Then I 've got to bake that pie shell and 
get the filling ready, and then there 's the pota- 
toes. And tomatoes, too." 

She mended the fire, and setting forth the 
needed article on the pastry table, was presently 
in the midst of her preparations. When the oven 
was hot, the little roast went in. But as she 
mixed the pie dough, the frown upon her face 
deepened. Her eyes wandered lingeringly about 



578 



Librarv, Univ. of 

DINNER FOR THRE^ n , 



579 



her little domain. The intrusion of a heedless, 
blundering, fifteen-year-old boy would be a grave 
matter, a very grave matter, indeed. 

She had just rolled out the crust and with it 
was lining a tin, when rapid footfalls mounted 
the porch and came through the house. She 
turned to confront Martha in the doorway. 

"She 's got the spells again, Miss Willis !" 



"Is n't she about anywhere?" 

"Not jest this minute. She 's been called to the 
neighbor's. Mis' Francis is havin' one of her 
faintin' spells, they say." 

The little man pulled impatiently at his out- 
standing mustaches. 

"When will she be back?" 

"Well, I dunno. Prob'ly in a few minutes. 




I HAD TO DROP EVERYTHING AND HURRY OVER TO MIS' FRANCIS 



(SEE PAGE 



The older woman flung off her apron and 
hastily wiped her hands. 

"She 's talking and crying like everything — " 

"Did you send Peter for the doctor?" 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Come on, then." 

Together they sped out across the yard and 
garden. So it happened that, ten minutes after 
the doctor had leisurely gone into the dwelling 
of Mrs. Millie Francis, a neat, gray-clad little 
man, and a sober, anxious-faced boy who had 
come up the walk, each carrying a satchel, found 
no one at home in the house of Miss Sarah Willis. 
Uncle Peter, however, had resumed his task in 
the yard. 

"Does n't Miss Willis live here ?" the little man 
demanded. 

Uncle Peter leaned on his rake. "Yes, sir." 



She 'd want you to wait, anyhow. Jest carry your 
things up to the porch." 

Uncle Peter ambled away around the house, 
and acting upon his suggestion, the visitors de- 
posited their luggage on the veranda and sat 
down. A quarter of an hour passed. The little 
man got up and pulled out his watch. 

"I had a matter to see about here in town, 
Bruce," he said. "I '11 run down and attend to 
it now instead of waiting here. You had better 
stay. Miss Willis will be back soon, I presume." 

"All right, Mr. Claywater." 

"I '11 be back by twelve," the little man called, 
as he departed in the direction of Main Street. 

For a few moments after his companion had 
gone, the boy sat still, with his head tipped back 
against the cushion of his chair, and his half- 
closed eyes looking into the tops of the maples. 



580 



DINNER FOR THREE 



"It 's nice here," he said wistfully, "pretty and 
quiet. I — I wonder—" 

But suddenly a slight, ominous odor reached 
his nostrils from the interior of the house. He 
raised his head, jand said : "Something 's burning !" 

He rose and, guided by the smell, walked 
quickly through into the kitchen. A. tiny thread 
of smoke came from the oven. Instantly he 
threw open the door, seized a holder, and 
snatched forth the roast. 

He looked about. "She must have been just 
starting dinner when she had to go away. Yes, 
sir, there are the baking things — and the pie- 
crust—and eggs— and a lemon — a lemon-pie. 
And scalloped potatoes in that pan. And toma- 
toes — There are the things to set the table with, 
too. This meat needs a little water." 

He paused. A twinkle came into his eyes, and 
his face relaxed. "I wonder if she 'd care. I 
don't believe so. And it would be fun — just as 
when I used to do it — in camp. I 'm going to! 
But I '11 have to hustle. I '11 fix those potatoes 
first, and make the filling, and then heat the water, 
peel the tomatoes, and set the table. Here goes !" 

He slipped out of his coat and tied his hostess's 
discarded apron about his waist. A chuckle shook 
him as he fell to work. 

It was fully twenty minutes after twelve when 
Miss Sarah Willis returned, worried and flut- 
tered, across the garden. At the side of the 
house she met Uncle Peter, going home. 

"Have they come, Peter?" 

"Yes, ma'am. Been settin' on the porch 'most 
two hours." 

She hastened over the lawn and up the steps. 
The little man and the boy rose to meet her. The 
boy's face was not so sober; it was decidedly 
pleasant. 

"I don't hardly know what to do," she said. "I 
had to drop everything and hurry over to Mis' 
Francis. There ain't a bite of dinner ready. I '11 
have to go right off and see." 

She had backed away, and in an instant she 
turned and vanished into the house. Through 
the sitting-room she sped, and then she stopped, 
with an exclamation that caused Mr. Henry 
Claywater to peer in from the porch. The boy 
looked away with a smile. 

Miss Willis stood at the dining-room door ; her 
eyes were wide. For the table was laid, fault- 
lessly laid. There were the table-cloth, the nap- 
kins, and the silver she had put out, and glass- 
ware from the sideboard. At each place, also, 
was a plate of sliced tomatoes. 

"Somebody must 'a' come in and done it !" she 
said, in amazement. " 'T wa' n't Mis' Harper 



though — she never puts the knives and forks 
right; and 't wa' n't Aunt Sadie either— she don't 
peel tomatoes. It could n't 'a' been any one else. 
Who could it 'a' been ?" 

She moved wonderingly into the kitchen. The 
fire had been allowed to burn down, and the oven 
was open to keep its contents from undue drying. 
She stared blankly at these contents— the beauti- 
fully done roast on a platter, a pan of brown 
scalloped potatoes, and a brimming gravy bowl. 
Then she turned, and stared again. On the table 
reposed a lemon-pie whose flaky rim and beaten 
frostingwereequal to anything she had ever beheld. 

Slowly she went back to the porch. "Dinner 's 
all ready," she announced, in a bewildered way. 
"I don't know how in the world it got so, but it is. 
I left everything all topsyturvy, and— some- 
body 's — " 

The little man looked at her. "Do you mean, 
Miss Willis, that some one came in and got din- 
ner for you ?" 

She nodded. 

He smiled. "Then perhaps I can throw a little 
light on the mystery. I was down-town for over 
an hour, and returned a moment before you did. 
Bruce was here alone— and. Miss Willis, he has 
been known to do such things before now." 

She turned vaguely to the boy. "Did you — " 

"I like to," he said earnestly, "and I knew how. 
I did n't think you 'd mind." 

She studied him. There was a long pause. "I 
don't," she laughed, "not one bit. Come right 
in and set down; I know you 're both just as 
hungry as wolves." 

As they drew up their chairs a moment later, 
Henry Claywater looked at his watch. "We have 
a good deal of talking to do, Miss Willis, and I 
think we had better do it here at table. I have 
to leave at one-twenty, and — " 

"I don't b'lieve any talking '11 be necessary," 
she informed him crisply. The roast was yield- 
ing to her dexterous knife, and she had already 
plunged a spoon into the potatoes. "So far as 
I 'm concerned it 's all settled. I was just telling 
Millie Francis, my neighbor, this morning, how 
glad I 'd be to have somebody here with me. It 's 
only for Bruce to decide." 

"I think I have decided," the boy said quickly. 

She nodded. "My !" she exclaimed, "every- 
thing 's done just as nice as it can be !" 

Mr. Henry Claywater laughed. "But I think 
there 's one thing I ought to add, Miss Willis," 
he said, warningly. "This young fellow can play 
base-ball just as well as he can make lemon-pie." 

Miss Willis beamed. "I 'm right glad to hear 
it," she declared heartily. "And I don't know as 
I 'm one mite surprised, either." 



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"'THIS YOUNG FELLOW CAN PLAY BASE-BALL JUST AS WELL AS HE CAN MAKE LEMON-PIE.'" 



|»^CONaVERORS 




THE SUNNY MASTER OF "SUNNYSIDE" 



"Please, Your Honor, here 's a bairn was named 
after you." Lizzie, the Scotch nurse, pushed into 
the shop, dragging a short-legged boy by the arm 
till they were close to the President's side. 
"Here 's a bairn was named after you," she re- 
peated encouragingly. And then President Wash- 
ington knew what she meant, and laid his hand 
on the child's tumbled hair in blessing. The boy 
who received that blessing was Washington Irv- 
ing. He lived near by, at 128 William Street, be- 
low Fulton Street, in New York City. Eight chil- 
dren were crowded into that two-story city house : 
William, Ann, Peter, Catharine, Ebenezer, John, 
Sarah, and Washington. Over the brood presided 
a stern father and a gentle mother who loved and 
understood. 

Doubtless, as the years advanced, that mother 
knew that her youngest child, Washington, would 
learn, like all other children, from every source 
that claimed his interest. Though he was taught 
hardly more than his alphabet, in the queer little 
school in Ann Street, he was taught much else by 
life in the city. He used to "haunt the pier heads 
in fine weather," to watch the ships "fare forth" 
with lessening sails ; and there at the wharves, 
from the smell of salt water, the call of sea-birds, 
and the flapping canvas, he was learning a love of 
adventure, and was even planning to sail away as 
his father had done before the war. At home, he 
trained himself to the hardships of a sailor's life 
by eating salt pork, fat and greasy, — a thing he 
loathed ; and by getting out of bed at night to lie 
on the hard floor. Monkey-like, he was learning 
to climb from roof to roof of the city houses for 
the pure fun of dropping mysterious stones down 
mysterious chimneys, and clambering back, half 
giddy, but chuckling at the wonder he had 



aroused, for he was always a roguish lad. From 
the queerly dressed Dutch people, with their 
queerer language, he was learning that there were 
other lands besides his own. From the high- 
vaulted roof of Trinity Church, with its darkness, 
and beauty, and deep-swelling music, he was 
learning that there were other religions than the 
strict Scotch Presbyterianism of his father. He 
even learned, in time, that dancing and the theater 
had their own charms ; and he secretly took les- 
sons in the one, and let himself down from the 
attic window to go to the other. 

"Oh, Washington, if you were only good !" the 
dear impulsive mother used to say. And yet, in her 
secret heart, she must have felt that the child was 
"good" who was always sweet and sunny and loving. 

Perhaps it was because she shared his thirst for 
adventure that she won his confidence. Not al- 
lowed by his father to read "Robinson Crusoe" 
and "Sindbad the Sailor," Washington used to 
read them at night in bed, or under his desk at 
school. He liked those books better than his book 
of sums ; such stories carried him into the wild 
world of his longing, and partly quenched his 
thirst for adventure — a taste that lasted a lifetime. 

In 1800, when Irving was seventeen, he made 
his first voyage up the Hudson to Albany. In 
those days, a journey from New York to Albany 
was like a journey to Europe to-day. Washing- 
ton's older sisters, Ann and Catharine, who had 
married young, were living near Albany, and he 
was to visit them. Boylike, he packed his trunk 
at the first mention of the trip ; but as the sloop 
would not sail without a certain amount of freight 
and a certain number of passengers, he unpacked 
and repacked many times before her cargo was 
ready and the wonderful journey began. 



583 



584 



MORE THAN CONQUERORS 



To almost any one, that first sail through the 
Hudson Highlands is a dream of beauty ; to Irving 
it was a wonder and a rapture. The stern moun- 
tains, crowned with forests ; the eagles, sailing 
and screaming; the roar of "unseen streams dash- 
ing down precipices"; and then the anchoring at 
night in the darkness and mystery of the over- 
hanging cliffs, and drifting asleep to the plaintive 
call of the whippoorwill — it was all new to the 
city boy, who had never left the New York streets 
before, except to wander in the woods with dog 
and gun. 

That journey was the beginning of his many 
travels. Though he went into Mr. Hoffman's 
office the next year to study law, he did not con- 
tinue long at the work. An incessant cough soon 
developed into consumptive tendencies, and, in 
July, 1803, his employer, who loved him like a 
father, invited him to join a party of seven on a 
trip to Canada. 

The hardships of this journey, however, were 
a poor medicine-. Beyond Albany, they traveled 
mainly by wagons, over roads so bad and through 
woods so thick, that they often had to get out and 
walk. "The whole country was a wilderness," 
writes Irving. "We floated down the Black River 
in a scow ; we toiled through forests in wagons 
drawn by oxen ; we slept in hunters' cabins, and 
were once four and twenty hours without food ; 
but all was romance to me." 

Naturally, when he returned home, his family 
found him worse rather than better. Accordingly, 
feeling that something must be done to save him, 
the older brothers put their money together — Wil- 
liam, who was best able, giving the greatest share 
— and engaged his passage on a ship sailing for 
Bordeaux, May 19, 1804. "There 's a chap who 
will go overboard before we get across," com- 
mented the captain, eying Irving suspiciously. 

On ship his sleeping quarters were in the cabin, 
with sixteen others "besides the master and mate." 
"I have often passed the greater part of the night 
walking the deck," Washington wrote to William ; 
and again, "When I cannot get a dinner to suit my 
taste, I endeavor to get a taste to suit my dinner." 
His letters breathe a spirit of gaiety, and are 
hopefully full of his own physical improvement, 
for he was never a man to complain. 

And yet his trip was not all joy; now we read 
of his Christmas at sea, in a dull, pouring rain, 
with the captain snoring in his berth ; now of a 
"villainous crew of pirates" who attacked the 
ship. 

After Irving reached port, life, like the sea, 
seemed smoother ; but now he fell a prey to the 
tempting distractions of travel. His greatest 
fault was, no doubt, a lack of steadiness of aim. 



Like a bee, he flew from flower to flower, 
wherever honey seemed the sweetest. To be sure, 
he had gone abroad for his health ; but the broth- 
ers who had sent him expected him to turn the 
time and money to some definitely good account. 
For a short time, the art galleries in Rome fired 
Washington with an ambition to "turn painter," 
for he loved wild landscapes and color, while he 
declared that "cold, raw tints" gave him rheuma- 
tism. This art craze, however, amounted to a 
mere temporary dabbling. Moreover, though his 
expense book gives account of two months' 
tuition in French and of the purchase of a botani- 
cal dictionary, we do not picture Irving as study- 
ing either French or botany very hard. His social 
instincts were a real impediment to any study. 
William, in bitter disappointment, declared that 
he was scouring through Italy in too short a time, 
"leaving Florence on the left and Venice on the 
right," for the sake of "good company." In fact, 
the younger brother's bump of sociability was 
very large. In London he met Mrs. Siddons and 
the Kembles. Fascinated with foreign life and for- 
eign people, he hated the student side of travel, 
and was frankly tired of churches, palaces, and 
cathedrals. All his countries were peopled. That 
is why "Bracebridge Hall" and "The Sketch- 
Book" are so alive. 

We are not surprised, then, to find that, on his 
return to New York, he plunged into society life ; 
nevertheless he resumed the writing of occa- 
sional sketches— a practice which he had begun 
before leaving his native land. As a partner of 
Paulding and of William Irving, he issued in 
twenty numbers a series of brilliant and original 
papers called "Salmagundi." These were re- 
printed in London in 181 1. 

' While Irving was abroad, the harsh news of 
his father's and his sister Nancy's death had 
come, so that, on his return, we must picture him 
living alone with his mother in the old house 
(now torn down) on the corner of William and 
Ann Streets. There he wrote his "Letters of 
Jonathan Oldstyle," "Salmagundi," and "History 
of New York, by Diedrich Knickerbocker." 

Right in the midst of this work came the most 
terrible bereavement of Irving's life. Under the 
encouragement of his employer, the fatherly Mr. 
Hoffman, Irving had attempted to continue the 
study of the law. Through Mr. Hoffman's 
friendship, too, and the openness of his hospitable 
home, the young man had learned to love Mr. 
Hoffman's young daughter, Matilda. She was 
hardly more than a beautiful child, but he loved 
her for all that she was, and for all that she prom- 
ised to be. Just when they were happiest, how- 
ever, Matilda caught a terrible cold, and, within 







0, f. Schcni<(1< 



'"PLEASE, YOUR HONOR, HERE 'S A BAIRN WAS NAMED AFTER YOU.'" 
Vol. XL.— 74. s85 



586 

two months, she was taken 
ever. That sorrow lay too 
ing's family or any of his 
never found words to uttei 
twenty-six when she died, 
all 



MORE THAN CONQUERORS 



[May, 



away from him for- 
delep for any of Irv- 

: »nds to touch. He 
viis sorrow. He was 

and she was only 



seventeen. But through all his long, lonely life, 
he cherished her dear love ; after his death, was 
found, among his treasures, a lovely miniature, a 
lock of fair hair, and a slip of paper bearing her 
name, "Matilda Hoffman." Through all his trav- 
els he had her Bible and prayer-book with him, 
and through all the years, her memory. 

It was nearly thirty years after Matilda's death, 
that one of Mr. Hoffman's granddaughters, 
who was rummaging in a drawer for music, 
found a piece of faded embroidery. "Washing- 
ton," said Mr. Hoffman, "this is a piece of poor 
Matilda's work." But Irving had grown sud- 
denly grave and silent, and in a few moments had 
said good night and gone home. 

That Irving tried to lift the clouds from his 
own spirit is proved by the fact that, in the midst 
of his sorrow, he continued his "Knickerbocker's 
History," a book rippling and sparkling with mer- 
riment. He himself was Diedrich Knickerbocker, 
and it was he who "would sit by the old Dutch 
housewives with a child on his knee or a purring 
grimalkin on his lap." If some of the Dutch 
were nettled by his picture of their ways, others 
saw that he was writing in "pure wantonness of 
fun," and that none of his laughter left a sting. 
Years later, however, Irving himself wrote, "It 
was a confounded impudent thing in such a 
youngster as I was, to be meddling in this way 
with old family names." 

Yet this special gift of finding fun in little 
things and interest in nothings filled his days with 
life. Except for wide traveling, there were few 
events to light his lonely way. The warmth of 
his family affections was always one of the 
sweetest and strongest things in his nature ; now 
he was helping Ebenezer and his many children ; 
now bolstering up Peter with money loans, al- 
ways offered with that sweet graciousness that 
was a part of his generous delicacy. 

He and Peter and Ebenezer formed a merchants' 
firm, to which Washington, though he detested the 
"drudgery of regular business," lent his time and 
interest till it was firmly on its feet. This re- 
quired him to live for a few months in Washing- 
ton, D. C. His spirit now, as in all his other 
travels, was the same. "I left home determined 
to be pleased with everything, or, if not pleased, 
to be amused." 

On his return to New York the following 
spring, he went into bachelor quarters, with his 
friend Brevoort, on Broadway near Bowling 



Green. It was a jovial time, free and peaceful, 
but broken, with the peace of the nation, by news 
of the War of 1812. Irving, adventuresome and 
loyal, joined the governor's staff posted at 
Sackett's Harbor. His letters of that time are 
full of "breastworks, and pickets of reinforced 
militia," but also of his own good health, "all the 
better for hard traveling," and of "love to Mother 
and the family." 

Soon after the news of the victory of New Or- 
leans and the tidings of peace, Irving sailed for 
Europe, little dreaming that he would stay for 
seventeen years. He had expected to return in a 
short time and settle down beside his dear old 
mother for the rest of her life. These plans and 
hopes, however, were suddenly broken by the 
news of her death in 181 7. That was the saddest 
event of his travels; the happiest was his friend- 
ship with Scott. 

At Abbotsford, Scott made Irving more than 
welcome, and found in him a kindred spirit. 
They were both glad, hearty, natural men who 
loved outdoors in the same boyish way. More- 
over, Scott found in Irving a man who needed no 
explanations— a man who could tramp with him 
through his own Tweedside, and understand all 
its beauty. We can imagine how welcome the 
Scotchman's cordiality was to Irving's fireside 
heart ! To be included as part of Scott's home, 
not only by the father and mother and four chil- 
dren, but by the cat, the packs of barking dogs, 
and the noble horses— that was what Irving 
loved; for, in spite of his outward cheer, he suf- 
fered from the loneliness of the inner self. As 
he said, he was not meant to be a bachelor ; and 
when he writes letters of blessing on the wives 
and children of Brevoort and Paulding and others, 
there is an undertone of pathos in the music. 
"You and Brevoort have given me the slip. ... I 
cannot hear of my old cronies, snugly nestled 
down with good wives and fine children round 
them, but I feel for the moment desolate and 
forlorn." 

That is all he says, and he puts it jestingly 
then ; but the unsaid thoughts lie deep. "Irving's 
smile is one of the sweetest I know," said a 
friend ; "but he can look very, very sad." 

But enough of the hidden sadness of this part- 
ner of the sunlight. Let us go with the com- 
panionable Irving on his travels, and go in his 
spirit — as conquerors of loneliness. 

A rapid journey ours must be, a journey of 
seventeen years in part of an hour ; and yet we 
must have time for slow steps in the silent Abbey 
— the most hallowed spot of all England— and 
time to bow our souls in reverence while the 
"deep-laboring organ" rolls its music up to 



I9>3-] 



THE SUNNY MASTER OF "SUNNYSIDE" 



587 



heaven. And we shall need time to enjoy the 
English Christmas as Irving enjoyed it. "While 
I lay musing on my pillow," he writes, "I heard 
the sound of little feet pattering outside of the 
door, and a whispering consultation. Presently 
a choir of small voices chanted forth an old 
Christmas carol, the burden of which was 

" ' Rejoice, our Saviour he was born 
On Christmas Day in the morning.' 

I rose softly, slipped on my clothes, opened the 
door suddenly, and beheld one of the most beauti- 




WOULD SIT BY THE OLD DUTCH HOUSEWIVES WITH A PURRING GRI 
MALKIN ON HIS LAP.' " 



ful little fairy groups that a painter could imag- 
ine. It consisted of a boy and two girls, the 
eldest not more than six, and lovely as seraphs. 
They were going the rounds of the house and 
singing at every chamber door ; but my sudden 
appearance frightened them into mute bashful- 
ness. They remained for a moment playing on 
their lips with their fingers, and now and then 



stealing a shy glance from under their eyebrows, 
until, as if by one impulse, they scampered away, 
and as they turne 1 ' ».n angle of the gallery, I 
heard them laughing hi triumph at their escape." 
Friendly and glad, Irving was heartily wel- 
comed into the English home ; and when he left 
that brother-land, with what a kindly feeling did 
he grace its memory to the world ! And what a 
benediction he sheds in his "Peace be within thy 
walls, oh England ! and plenteousness within thy 
palaces." 

So much for his books of English travel ; his 
books on Spain are no less 
charming. In fact, Spain 
must have been even more 
fascinating to a man of 
Irving's imagination ; to 
the mind that conceived 
the mystic dwarfs and 
"wicked flagon" of Rip 
Van Winkle and the head- 
less horsemen of Sleepy 
Hollow. Spain was a land 
rich in legend as well as 
steeped in beauty. The 
roads were infested with 
robbers. Every Andalu- 
sian carried a saber. 
There was often a lan- 
tern hidden beneath his 
cloak. 

Sometimes, as Irving 
rode through the stern 
country, "the deep tones 
of the cathedral bell would 
echo through the valley." 
Then "the shepherd 
paused on the fold of the 
hill, the muleteer in the 
midst of the road ; each 
took off his hat and re- 
mained motionless for a 
time, murmuring his eve- 
ning prayer." 

"Who wants water- 
water colder than snow?" 
came the carrier's cry as 
they neared the city. The 
shaggy little donkey, with 
water jars hung on each side, was all too willing 
to wait. 

Arrived at the Alhambra, Irving found it at 
once a fortress and a palace, every stone breath- 
ing poetry and romance. "A little old fairy 
queen lived under the staircase, plying her 
needle and singing from morning till night." 
The Andalusians lay on the grass or danced to 



588 



MORE THAN CONQUERORS 



[May, 



the guitar, and everywhere were groves of 
orange and citron and the music of singing birds 
and tinkling fountains. It was an enchanted 
palace. In the evening, Irving took his lamp and, 
in a "mere halo of light," stole dreamily through 
the "waste halls and mysterious galleries." There 
were no sounds but echoes. Everything, even 
the garden, was deserted. Nevertheless the scent 
of roses and laurel, the shimmer of moonlight, 
the murmur of hidden streams, had made the 
garden a fairy-land, only it was a fairy-land 
where flitting bat and hooting owl were much at 
home. To Irving, the owl had a vast knowledge 
of "astronomy and the moon," and he respected 
the knowledge which he could not share. In 
short, the Alhambra just suited his fancy; and 
when, as he said, the summons came to return 
into the "bustle and business of the dusty world," 
that summons ended one of the pleasantest 
dreams of his life — "a life, perhaps you may 
think, too much made up of dreams." 

But poets should not be bound, nor birds 
caged ; nor do we need to take the poet at his own 
low estimate. Given to hospitality, and, conse- 
quently, open to many interruptions, inclined to 
postpone, and hating the labors of rewriting, 
Irving was, nevertheless, a hard worker. Those 
seventeen years were not all dreams. To them 
we owe "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," written 
"by candle-light in foggy London" ; "Bracebridge 
Hall," dashed off in Paris in six weeks ; and "Rip 
Van Winkle," which was not, as some have sup- 
posed, drawn from life, but was an imagined pic- 
ture ; when Irving wrote that story, he had never 
visited the Catskills ; he had merely seen them 
from the river on his boyhood's first journey. To 
these years, moreover, we owe a longer, harder 
work than any of the rest — "The Life of Colum- 
bus." When the poet Longfellow took his early 
morning walks in Madrid, he often saw Irving 
writing at his open study-window at six o'clock ; 
he had risen at five to work on the "Life." "I 
must make enough money," he would say to him- 
self, "to be sure of my bread and cheese." 

As a rule, however, Irving had a great indiffer- 
ence to money-getting. Perhaps this will partly 
account for his rare generosity, though I think 
generosity was in his blood. With his customary 
faithfulness, he gave "The Sketch-Book" to his 
old publisher, Moses Thomas, even at the risk of 
loss. Utterly without envy, he pushed Bryant's 
work before the public, popularized Scott in 
America, gave plots to Poe, and, most generous 
of all, resigned, in favor of Prescott, his whole 
scheme for writing on the Conquest of Mexico, 
though Irving had hugged the hope of such a 
work since childhood, and had definitely written 



on it for over a year. Perhaps, blessed with eye- 
sight himself, he thought he would do his blind 
friend this service. At all events, without con- 
sulting any one, he burned his own manuscript. 
It was a great sacrifice, but Prescott never knew. 
Imagine how hard it was for such a warm na- 
ture as Irving's to be misjudged by his best friends. 
But he was misjudged. Some went so far as to 
think that those seventeen years spent abroad 
were a proof that he did not love his country and 
home ; whereas Irving was all too weary of for- 
eign society. He was, to quote his letters, "tired 
of being among strangers." If ever there was a 
home-loving man, it was Irving. During those 
seventeen long years he felt himself 

Strange tenant of a thousand homes 
And friendless with ten thousand friends. 

He called it what it was, "a poor, wandering life." 
"I have been tossed about 'hither and thither' and 
whither I would not ; have been at the levee and 
the drawing-room, been at routs and balls, and 
dinners and country-seats, been hand and glove 
with nobility and mob-ility, until, like Trim, I 
have satisfied the sentiment, and am now pre- 
paring to make my escape from all this splendid 
confusion." 

But the world did not understand. The news- 
paper attacks hurt him. At last criticism became 
too keen for his sensitive nature to bear. Then 
began for him "sleepless nights and joyless days," 
with the sharp thought that the "kindness of his 
own countrymen was withering toward him." 
Even Brevoort and Paulding, even his brothers, 
began to chide him with not wanting to return. 

When he did stand before them once again, 
however, with his truth-telling, sunlight face, 
they questioned his love no more. Irving's return 
to New York was heralded by a dinner in his 
honor. Now Irving, as Moore said, had never 
been "strong as a lion," though he was "delight- 
ful as a domestic animal." He himself said it 
was "physically impossible for him to make a 
speech." A manuscript under his plate did not 
help at all. When, at a dinner in England, he had 
been announced with loud cheers, he had simply 
responded, "I beg to return you my sincere 
thanks." And now when, before his fellow-coun- 
trymen, the toast was proposed, "To our illus- 
trious guest, thrice welcome to his native land," 
the shy author who hated speech-making could 
only stammer and blush. "I trembled for him," 
said one of his friends, "until I saw him seize 
the handle of a knife and commence gesticulating 
with that; then I knew he would get on." 

"I am asked how long I mean to remain here," 
Irving said. "They know but little of my heart 



I9i.v] 



THE SUNNY MASTER OE <• SUNNYSIDE " 



589 




'BE quiet! keep near the hedge!' he cautioned.' 



and feelings who can ask me that question. I 
answer, As long as I live." He hesitated, stood 
still, and looked about him, the old genial smile 
beaming from his dark gray eyes. Then a rousing 
cheer told him that he had won again the trust of 
all, and he sat down satisfied — a tired exile wel- 
comed home. 

Except as Irving was twice sent to Europe by 
our nation, once to England as secretary of lega- 
tion, and once as minister to Spain, he did stay 
home all the rest of his life. It is as a home- 
maker and a home-lover that he was happiest and 
best known, and no part of life was so sweet to 
him as the life at Sunnyside. Let us visit him 
there in his own little house among the trees. 
Though the house is small, and already filled with 
his nieces, there is always room for one more. 
Let us take the train from New York for Irving- 
ton, near Tarrytown. Sunnyside, a ten-acre 
farm, bought by Irving in 1835, is only about ten 
minutes' walk from the station. The grounds 
look out on the blue Hudson. There is a cove 



and a cozy beach, and a spring "welling up at 
the bottom of the bank." A stony brook, shaded 
by trees, "babbles down the ravine, throwing it- 
self into the little cove." On the rock at the edge 
of the lawn, Irving often sits, resting in his love 
of the shining river, and building his "castles at 
seventy" as he did at seven. The house described 
by Irving is a "little old-fashioned stone mansion, 
all made up of gable-ends, and as full of angles 
and corners as an old cocked hat." It used to be 
called "Wolfert's Roost" (or Rest), and over the 
door is an old motto meaning "pleasure in quiet," 
a motto that was written in its master's heart. 

Though you may not find any of the old Indian 
arrcjw-heads about the place, nor Brom Bones's 
pumpkin in the garden, you will find the spirit of 
Wolfert's Roost unchanged. Crickets skip in the 
grass ; humming-birds whir among the trumpet- 
vines ; the phcebe-bird and wren have built under 
the eaves. The thick mantle of Melrose ivy, 
which almost hides the eastern end of Sunnyside, 
grew from one of Scott's slips. 



590 



MORE THAN CONQUERORS 



[May, 



Within, Sunnyside is plainly furnished ; there 
are not even many books. Everything, however, 
looks comfortable and made for use. For in- 
stance, the writing-table is a mass of disorder. 
It is one of the sweet elements of our welcome 
that nothing is changed to receive us. And we can 
visit Irving's "tree-encircled farm." Those two 
elms on the lawn were planted by the author's 
own hands ; he carried the saplings on his shoul- 
der. The fruits and vegetables, he will tell you, 
were raised at "very little more than twice the 



said. "His character was very much misunder- 
stood by all but myself." 

That word "all" covered a big household. Irv- 
ing's dearest brother, Peter, had died, and so had 
William and John ; but Ebenezer, now growing 
very deaf, and his sister Catharine made their 
home at Sunnyside, and there were six adoring 
nieces who kept Irving "almost as happy" as if 
he were "a married man." 

To see how happy he was, we should have vis- 
ited him at Christmas, when "The Tappan Zee 




From photograph by Brown Brothers. 
'SUNNYSIDE" — THE HOME OF WASHINGTON IRVING. 



market-price." Now, purring thunderously, Imp 
will come and rub his silky head against you, and 
Toby will bark a greeting and dash away to the 
other pets. There are cows and setting geese, 
cooing pigeons, and "squadrons of snowy" ducks. 
Dandy and Billy, the old coach-horses, are as 
"sleek as seals," and "Gentleman Dick," Irving's 
saddle-horse, puts his cheek against his master's 
and lays his head on his shoulder. Though 
Irving will say nothing about it, perhaps 
you will notice that the saddle hanging near is 
an old one, furbished up. The father of so 
many borrowed children could not afford a new 
saddle. 

"Dick now and then cuts daisies with me on 
his back ; but that 's to please himself, not me," 
laughs Irving, patting the horse's glossy side ; 
and perhaps he may add that Gentleman Dick 
has thrown him once. It was after a second acci- 
dent, when Irving was seventy-two, that his 
nieces forced him to sell this "Gentleman that 
had proved no gentleman." "Poor Dick !" Irving 



was covered with sparkling ice and the opposite 
hills with snow," and when holly reddened the 
hearth of Sunnyside. Then, indeed, the cottage 
rang with shouts, while the king of the cottage 
tiptoed round to be first with his "Merry Christ- 
mas," acted a jovial Santa Claus, and filled all the 
stockings with presents. 

His understanding of children was wonderful. 
Once when he had amused two fretful little 
things on a long train journey, the mother 
thanked him with, "Any one can see you 're a 
father of a large family." There are two delight- 
ful stories of Irving and the boys who robbed his 
orchard. One day he was met by a little fellow 
who came up to him with winning secrecy and 
said, "I '11 show you the old man's best tree, if 
you '11 shake it for me." Agreed. "By George, 
sir !" laughed Irving, "if he did n't take me to the 
very best tree on my own place !" 

Another time, when he came unexpectedly on 
an apple squad, he said, picking out the leader, 
"Boy, these are very poor apples. I know a 



I9I3-] 



THE SUNNY MASTER OF "SUNNYSIDE" 



591 



much better tree." Then he led them on, skulk- 
ing in the shadows and dodging the gardener, in 
true boy style. "Be quiet ! Keep near the 
hedge !" he cautioned. 

"We 're afraid the old gentleman will catch us." 

"He 's not there now. There, the best tree 's 
just beyond the hedge !" 

The prickly hedge tore the boys' trousers and 
faces and hands, but the seekers were too near 
their spoil to be daunted. 

"Now, boys, this is the tree I spoke of, and I 
am the owner of it — Mr. Irving." There was a 
pause, during which the boys intently studied the 
grass. "Don't be afraid," Irving went on, "I 
sha'n't punish you ; the prickly hedge has done 
that. I only wish that when you take my fruit, 
you would come to me and ask for it." He gave 
them a genial, forgiving smile, and was gone, the 
dear old man with the heart of a boy and the im- 
mortal spirit of play. 

Up to the very end of life, at seventy-six, he 
could laugh at pain and sleeplessness, and at 
weariness of mind and body. Let no one under- 
rate the heroism of those last years — the hard 
work wrought with aching hands. With the press 
dogging Irving's heels, the "Life of Goldsmith" 
was written in sixty days. He spoke of his writ- 
ings as "literary babblings," or as "water spilt on 
the ground." Many times during the composition 
of the "Life of Washington," his last work, he 
was at the point of putting it into the fire. His 
letters and journal show that writing had become 
a "toil of head, a fagging of the pen." Often he 
would be scribbling in his study at half-past 
twelve at night, long after the family were abed 
and asleep, or he would "rise at midnight, light 



his lamp, and write for an hour or two." If he 
rested in the evening, with the girls sewing round 
him, it was because he had "passed the whole 
morning in his study hard at work," and had 
"earned his recreation." 

Through those last years, though he made a 
pitiful struggle for sleep, asthma and nervousness 
combined against him, except when he slept from 
pure exhaustion. And still he made merry. 
Turning to one of his nieces, he said : "I am apt 
to be rather fatigued, my dear, by my night's 
rest." 

Always he kept his sunniness. "Happy is he 
who can grow smooth as an old shilling as he 
wears out; he has endured the rubs of life to 
some purpose," he said. 

And he did grow smooth and tuneful and 
placid. Though his voice was hoarse and his step 
faltering, his gray eyes held their twinkle, and 
his heart was young and singing to the end. 

One frosty November day, the solemn bells told 
the farmers and sailors, the boys who loved the 
apples, and all the waiting neighbors of the glen, 
that the master of Sunnyside had gone. 

Sunnyside was left, as we might expect, to 
Ebenezer and his daughter, "to be kept forever as 
an Irving rally place." But Irving left a far 
greater bequest to all who will but take it. Be- 
sides his books, rich in humor and kindliness, and 
written in "the language of the heart," he left the 
dear example of one who loved and lost, and 
smiled, and gave; of one who sought the good 
and found it, whether in music or pictures, free 
country, books, or people ; and of one who sheds 
a constant blessing, even now, like the sunshine 
from the sky. 



IN APRIL 



BY ERNESTINE COBERN BEYER 



Nonsense, Pussy Willow, 

Put your muff away ! 
Fur is out of season 

When the sun has come to stay. 

Robin has a tailored suit, 

The latest shade in red ; 
The way he eyes the spinster birds, 

I 'm sure it 's turned his head. 

The river wears, for boutonniere, 
A sun-gleam on his breast ; 



And even I am out to air 
A brand-new coat and vest. 

The giddy spring is in the veins 

Of every living thing. 
The tramp goes singing down the lanes, 

As happy as a king. 

So,— nonsense ! Pussy Willow, 

Put your muff away ! 
Fur is out of season 

When the sun has come to stay ! 



A FORTUNE IN A FLOWER 



BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOEEORD 



She sat by the window, sunshine and blue sky be- 
hind her, perhaps not pretty, but very wholesome 
and sweet. "She 's better 'n purty," her grand- 
mother used to say. 

' 'T would n't be so bad," her grandfather, 
propped in his chair, was murmuring, "ef I had 
any hope." 

' 'T ain't bad, anyway," said the little old wo- 
man, who had what people call "a spirit." 

"Ef I war n't tied to my chair," continued the 
poor old man. 

"You 've worked your full sheer," said his wife. 
"An' Florry an' me jes enj'y havin' ye round — 
you 've no idee how much !" 

"No, I ain't !" said the old man. 

"There you was all day, teamin', and eatin' yer 
cold meat an' pie on the cart or unner it, an' 
Florry an' me wonderin' how you was, and ef you 
was warm or cold, or ef you 'd be'n knocked off'n 
yer seat, or got caught in the rain. An' now we 
know you 're comf't'ble, an' we can talk together. 
An' Mr. Jones jes got two hun'erd an' fifty fer 
the hosses, an' that '11 keep us goin', with the gar- 
d'nin', the hull o' two year. And all we gotter do 
is t' enj'y." 

"Enj'y !" 

"Father, you ain't gotter wake afore sun-up, to 
fodder an' milk an' curry ; you ain't gotter fetch 
water, or plow a furrer, or shovel a path—" 

"But oh, who will !" exclaimed the old man. 

"I will," said Florry, looking up from the little 
papers she was sorting. 

"You !" said the exasperated grandfather. 
"You who never done nothin' but plant a bush 
unner a winder !" 

"W'y, Father, you don't seem like yerself." 

"I ain't myself !" 

"Daddy," said Florry, pushing back her yellow 
hair, as she sprang up and shook her apron, "you 
wait and see !" 

"I be'n a-waitin'. There, there, child, I ain't 
improvin' thin's by fightin' ag'in' Proverdence." 

"Proverdence ain't goin' 'roun' tippin' folks 
off'n their hay-carts !" cried his wife, winding her 
strips for braiding. "It 's jes Charles Emery's 
carelessness, a-startin' the hosses, with you atop 
o' the load, 'fore ye got yer balance. Proverdence 
saved ye from breakin' yer bones, an' give ye a 
hum ter be comf't'ble in. But there, Father, you 
allers be'n by way o' wantin' thin's w'en ye want 
'em. Ye 're like the boy that digged up his seeds 
ter see ef they 'd sprouted." 



"Wat ye doin', Florry?" her grandfather 
asked. "I want ye ter read the 'Old Farmer' to 
me. I don' know w'at 's goin' on in the worl' any 
mor' 'n a mole. Sortin' seeds? W'at in the name 
of wonder ye doin' with them seeds ?" 

"Making a fortune !" said Florry, laughing. 
"You '11 see later. Here 's the paper, now." And 
after she had read aloud a few paragraphs of the 
President's message, Daddy was sleeping the 
sleep of one who, heartbroken with trouble, 
breaks the hearts of others. 

The slumber established, Florry hurried out to 
the garden patch. Her little feet, her little 
strength, did not give her much purchase on a 
spade ; but deep spading was not necessary. She 
brought some fertilizer the next morning and as 
she worked it in with her spade, she wondered 
how so beautiful a thing as her white flower grew 
out of such blackness. Charlie Emery would 
have been glad to do all the work for her, but, 
while the memory of his ill-timed chirrup to the 
horses lasted, that was out of the question. 

A couple of years before this, a lady boarding 
at The Cottages had a window-box ; and, on leav- 
ing, she told Florry, who had a passion for flow- 
ers, that she might have the plants. Among them 
were a rose-geranium, a lemon-verbena, and a 
resplendent, fringed, white petunia. Florry had 
read somewhere what might be done with certain 
seeds, and she was bound to do it. The wonder- 
ful petunia was her especial hope; and she saved 
its seeds as if they had been gold-dust. The lady 
had told her that the flower was a new one, and 
the seed, indeed, more precious than gold-dust ; 
that gardeners grew it on sunny terraces, and 
went over every blossom with a camel's-hair pen- 
cil to distribute the pollen properly ; and every 
blossom that had been thus "hybridized," as she 
called it, had to be tagged, and every one that did 
not come true, that showed signs of reverting to 
the simple old flower from which it had devel- 
oped, had to be destroyed root and branch. The 
lady had seen it growing in Germany. 

The next year, Florry had produced a multi- 
tude of those tiniest seeds to sow when May came 
around. In the fall, every one of these had given 
her hundreds more. Her great idea was more 
than ever valuable when her grandfather's condi- 
tion had brought the necessity of earning money. 

"It 's ridic'lous, Florry," said her grandmother. 
" 'Course I don't wanter discourage ye, child, but 
it 's a waste o' time. Dear knows, 't would break 



59 2 



A FORTUNE IN A FLOWER 



593 



me up, an' him, tew, ter hev ye go out ter work. 
But we gotter du somethin'." 

"Granny dear," said Florry, "we won't starve 
while the money for the horses lasts. Maybe we 
won't have to use it all, anyway. I know what 
I 'm doing. And you know I did get enough 
money for the rose-geranium slips I took over to 
The Cottages to get us each a gown 
and shoes, and pay something to Mr. 
Jones. People over there just loved 
the lemon-verbena, too, for scent- 
bags, and to put in their clothes." 



the minister's wife thinks I kin hev the old red 
curtings behind the pulpit and acrost the singin' 
seats. They '11 be reel respecterble mats, 'most 
religious ones, as ye may say. That '11 help out 
— with the cow. Benny Bean 's a-seein' to her 
fer half the milk. So ye kin try it out, Florry ; 
but T must say I ain't no hopes." 




JoHrt IfWiH JACKsoti _ 



'I WILL, SAID FLOKRY, LOOKING UP FROM THE LITTLE PAPERS SHE WAS SORTING. 



"It 's goin' ter be dretfle hard work." 
"Not so very. If I 'm lucky this year, then 
next year but one I can hire a man, and we '11 
take in more ground— all the old garden— and by 
and by plow up the field beyond. It 's very rich 
soil, lying in the sun, almost like a greenhouse 
there. And then you '11 see !" 

"Wal, there 's my braided mats. They allers 
du sell fer somethin'. An' Mis' Lawyer Sprague 's 
sent me a raft of old pieces, bright ones, tew ; an' 
Vol. XL. — 75. 



Mr. Jones, of the corner store, had no hopes 
either. When Florry went down to ask him not 
to press for payment of his old bill for the 
medicines they had on account of Daddy's acci- 
dent, and for the groceries, since neither she nor 
her grandmother liked to break in on the money 
paid for the horses before they must, then, for a 
time, Mr. Jones was not at all genial. "We can 
surely pay you later," she said. "But if Daddy 
gets well, he '11 want the money for new horses." 



594 



A FORTUNE IN A FLOWER 



[May, 



"Then you can hand it to him out of those 
expected dollars of yours/' said Mr. Jones. 

"But you know all that 's in the air yet — " 

"An' in the ground," said Mr. Jones. "And my 
opinion is 't '11 stay there. You 'd better be goin' 
ter work down to the shoe-shop, Florry, and bring 
home honest wages to yer folks every Sat'day 
night. That 's my advice, as yer frien'." 

But Mr. Jones did not press his bill. In fact, a 
twinkle in his little gray eye reassured Florry; 
and she watched her garden with her own heart 
full of hope, whatever took place in the hearts of 
others. 

"You might let me help you," said Charlie 
Emery, one evening when he had seen her weed- 
ing with an old fork. "I 'd be glad to." 

"And I 'd be glad to have you, Charlie," said 
Florry, "but not now. By and by, when Daddy 
is well — " 

"Then you won't need me." 

"Yes, I will, Charlie, always." 

When the school-teacher had reformed Florry's 
grammar, she herself had attended to Charlie's 
grammar, and with a measure of success that 
made her feel some especial rights in his friend- 
ship ; and as he had always helped her in the 
school-days, both in the carrying of her luncheon 
and in the eating of it, there was no reason why 
he should not help her now, if it were not for the 
feeling of her people. 

At the end of the second season, her grand- 
mother had importuned Florry to sell her seeds. 
They went to bed then at dark, to save kerosene, 
and lived on mush and milk, keeping the eggs for 
Daddy. But although Florry cried, she was firm. 
Those seeds were all needed for the greater har- 
vest of the next year. 

"Mr. Jones sez ye must be out o' yer mind, 
Florry. He sez it ain't on'y a bee in yer bonnit, 
it 's wheels in yer head," her grandmother said. 
"He sez 't 's ridic'lous, an' silly, tew. He sez I 'd 
orter hev the seelec'men deal with me fer lettin' 
ye carry on this way an' nothin' come of it, and 
us all on the town nex' thin'." 

"Mr. Jones was joking, Granny dear." 

"He war n't jokin' w'en he said 't was wicked, 
this starvin' ourselves fer a notion, and I as thin 
as a wisp o' paper, all by nonsense about these 
'ere pellets, 'most tew small ter see, w'en, as you 
say, they could be turned into money quick as 
scat." 

"Granny dear, the money they could turn into 
would be grains of dust in no time. Don't you 
know twice two are four, but twice fifty are a 
hundred? Now I 've sold enough branches of 
rose-geranium, and armfuls of wild roses and 
elder-blow and sweet-fern and bayberry, to pay 



for plowing and harrowing the first part of the 
long field ; and Benny 's going to see to it. And 
that will take all this seed. And we 're going to 
have a boiled dinner, anyway ; and I think some 
of the hens are too old to keep. And we '11 sit 
up Thanksgiving night with a lighted lamp. And 
next summer, there '11 be more berries ; and next 
winter, Granny, next winter, everything we 
want ! A silk gown for my granny, and a city 
doctor for dear Daddy— if there does n't come 
a drought !" 

It was a dazzling prospect to the little grand- 
mother. She had no fear of drought, or worms, 
or desolating hail. "I ain't a shadder o' doubt a 
city doctor 'd put life into him!" she declared. 
"Old Doctor Slocum 's good enough w'en he 
knows w'at ails ye. But a city doctor — w'y, them 
city doctors works merricles !" 

And now Granny was more enthusiastic than 
one born to the faith. 

"W'at 's all this foolin' Florry 's up to?" her 
grandfather demanded. 

' 'T ain't foolin', Father. It 's business — reel 
high-toned business." 

"Business ! W'y don't she git the deestrick 
school ?" 

"Florry lef school w'en you hed yer fall, and 
ain't got l'arnin' enough ter l'arn others. An' she 
would n't live no time in that air down at the 
shoe-shop, an' they 've got all the help they want 
to the Corners, an' that 's all the chanst there is 
fer duin' — " 

"She need n't du nothin' ef I was well. D' ye 
think I 'm goin' ter git well, Mother?" 

"Puffickly. And as fer Florry, ain't she a-git- 
tin' health an' strength? And ain't that the great 
thin', Father?" 

"Ef we was rich folks, our gel might play gar- 
d'nin' forever. Is she goin' ter peddle her garden- 
seeds ?" 

"She 's heerd of a man in the city, an' she 's 
writ to him about them seeds. An' he 's ast about 
her. An' you '11 find it '11 pay better 'n mill- 
work." 

"Them dusts o' pepper, so small ye can't see 
'em?" 

"Father, that dust o' pepper 's wuth dollars !" 
said his wife, earnestly. "Every grain !" 

Sometimes Mr. Jones's impatience overcame his 
knowledge of the value of the seeds. "I 've 
waited two years for my bill," said he,, "'cause 
Florry 's a good gel, and I 'm fond of her." 

" 'T ain't surprising" said Charlie Emery. 

"It '11 take a lot o' them seeds ter count for 
anythin' ! But I suppose she knows w'at she 's 
erbout. She 's the best gel in the kentry ef she 
makes this go." 



I9I3-] 



A FORTUNE IN A FLOWER 



595 



"I 'm with you there," said Charlie, "whether 
she makes it go or not." 

Unknown to any one, Mr. Jones, going up to 
the city for his goods, had been to see the great 
seedsman, and to find what a pound of the seeds 
would really come to. His eyes danced when he 




- j*hh tmrrffiiK&n- 



'she unwrapped her parcel as if it held no less than diamonds 
(see page 596.) 



heard. "But I would n't buy a pound," said the 
seedsman. "I could n't get rid of it, it 's so costly." 
"But you could take it at a little discount, and 
that 'd pay ye fer gettin' other great seed-folks 
ter take it in less quantity, 'ter go sheers,' " said 
Mr. Jones. And then he told Florry's story, and 
so interested his hearer, that it was agreed a 
pound of the seeds should be taken. "W'y," said 
Mr. Jones, afterward, to Charlie Emery, "the 
teenty-tawntiest pinch o' them seeds is wuth sev- 
enty-five cents ! How 'd she ever come by it, 
anyway?" 



It was a pretty sight, that long garden and the 
beginning of the field beyond, when the summer 
bloom was on, waving and flaunting a thousand 
stems with their blossoms in the sun and wind, 
sending a honeyed perfume far abroad, the bees 
humming around them till frost hung in the air 
ready to fall. And many a 
sunny day, Granny pushed 
Daddy's chair to the door, 
where he could see the 
sight and where she could 
keep an eye on him when 
he slept in the sun and she 
helped Florry. 

And this was no slight 
work. For this radiant 
flower was queen of all her 
tribes, full, dazzling white, 
fluted and folded frill over 
frill, and fringed into fine 
air, of a delicate fragrance, 
and recklessly scattering 
her seeds. And not only 
were the plants to be wa- 
tered, if the weather were 
dry, and weeded, but sheets 
of paper were to be secured 
beneath them, to catch the 
chance fallen seeds ; and 
those that were not perfect 
were to be plucked away. 

"No one need n't to think 
this 'ere 's play," said 
Granny. One week Florry 
had to take money enough 
from the treasured hoard 
to hire a man. But that 
man worked. 

The following year, she 
took the money to pay the 
man and Benny during the 
very busiest parts of the 
season, she and her grand- 
mother working with them 
for all they were worth. 
And then came the careful picking of the seeds, 
and setting them to dry in the shed, and, later, 
the delicate work of emptying the seed-vessels; 
and her grandmother helped, and, quietly, Charlie 
Emery came over in the night, and did more 
emptying than they both had done in a day. And 
Florry wondered, next morning, at what they had 
accomplished, and went about with a deeper flush 
on her cheek and a song in her heart. 

Indian summer was in the sweet November air, 
full of balm, with tender mists purpling the hori- 
zon. Florry had bestirred herself early, in the 



596 



A FORTUNE IN A FLOWER 



morning that seemed more radiant than any other 
morning of her life. She had her ticket and three 
dollars in her purse. There were some stout 
paper bags in the shed. Perhaps Mr. Jones had 
put them there. She wore her old dark-blue win- 
ter suit and her sailor hat of many summers, and 
if not as pretty as a picture, there was something 
very attractive about her. The precious seeds 
were in one of the bags, in a well-wrapped parcel, 
and that was in a little box, and that was in an- 
other bag, like a Chinese puzzle, and all to be 
carried precisely. 

Mr. Jones had told her exactly what to do. She 
was to follow the crowd. She was to speak to no 
one but the policeman in front of the station. 
She was to tell him where she wanted to go, and 
he would see her on the right street-car, whose 
conductor would tell her where to stop. If she 
was at a loss, she was to stand still and watch for 
another policeman. The instructions and warn- 
ings would have turned a head less level than 
Florry's. But how her heart was beating as she 
went ! 

What if she should drop her treasure ? What 
if any one should jostle her? What if the bags 
broke? What if she lost her purse? What if the 
train ran off the track, to the ruin of the whole? 
What if some one snatched the parcel? What if 
she lost her way? A thousand terrible "if s" and 
"whats" swarmed round her like a cloud of 
hornets. 

She saw nothing of the landscape as she jour- 
neyed; the great dark city deafened and be- 
wildered her. Perhaps it would have increased 
her disquiet had she known that Charlie Em- 
ery was on the train, and allowed her out of his 
sight only while she was in the seedsman's ware- 
house. 

But although she could hear her pulse beat, and 
was more or less suffocatingly oppressed by her 
uncertain breath, she finally reached the big 
warehouse, and, appalled as she was by space and 
people and rush of work, she kept her 
timidity to herself, and asked for the f V \\\V 

person with whom 
sponded, and 
who had had 
the talk with 
Mr. Jones. Oh, oh, 
should not be there ! 

But he was. "I have brought 
the giant white-fringed petunia 
seed," she said, lifting her parcel 
as he accosted her. 



"You are Miss Flora MacLeod?" he asked, as 
he scanned her pleasant face, tanned and ruddy 
now, with its starry eyes. "How am I to know 
they are petunia seeds, the petunia?" 

Oh, what another terror ! But she looked at 
him without betraying a tremor. "Because they 
are," she said quietly. And as he gazed in her 
innocent eyes, he also said, "Because they are." 
It was not even worth while to speak of the vir- 
tues of the microscope. 

They went then into another part of the appar- 
ently limitless place ; and she unwrapped her par- 
cel as if it held no less than diamonds. And 
when she came out, she was clutching her purse, 
with a slip of paper in it, as if she held the rarest 
jewel in her hands. 

The person with whom she dealt put her on the 
right car, and she found the station and her train 
with no loss of time, although with some flutter- 
ings. But the time between the starting of the 
train and arriving at the little house under the big 
elm was a blank. She seemed to be something 
different from herself, as if she were walking on 
air; she only knew the evening was more radiant 
than the morning. And then at last, a little trem- 
bling, very hungry, but not conscious of it, she 
stood before her grandfather, and held out the 
slip of paper for him to see. Granny had already 
seen it in awe-struck solemn silence. 

"Your spectacles, Father, your specs !" cried 
Granny, finding her voice and the glasses. And 
she clapped them on his nose. 

"What!" he exclaimed, when he had seen the 
figures. "What sort of a trick is this you 're 
playin' me !" 

"It 's a check for seven hundred and fifty dol- 
lars, Daddy," Florry answered. "And I 'm to have 
another check just like it every year I sell a pound 
of my petunia seed. And I saved out enough 
besides for next year's sowing. I gave him good 
measure. And I 'm going to begin some begonia 
seed, that 's worth twice as much. Think of that ! 
And it 's half yours and half Granny's 
— the check, I mean. The land it came 
from is all yours, you know, anyway. 
And now," im- 
petuously hug- 
ging them both 
together, "now you '11 have the 
city doctor, Daddy, and get 
well !" 

"Florry," said her grandfather, 
impressively, "I allers said you 
was a wonder !" 




THE LAND OF MYSTERY 

BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT 

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



Chapter XVII— a chip of the old block 

Basil and Harold passed out into the courtyard, 
and there found Nasr-ed-Din groaning on a 
bench. Poor Deeny ! He had 
fought with all his heart and 
strength, and had only yield- 
ed after being shot in the 
arm, and finally brought to 
submission. 

"Somebody 's going to pay 
for this !" burst out Harold, 
as he stood beside his faith- 
ful follower. 

Basil smiled bitterly. 

"Yes," he agreed; "some- 
body is going to pay heavily. 
/ am going to pay." 

At this moment', there came 
a pounding on the courtyard 
gate, with a sound of excited 
voices outside. And, above 
the tumult, rose a voice that 
Harold recognized, calling, 
"Sandy ! Sandy !" 

"Jack McGreggor !" shout- 
ed Harold, hurrying to the 
gate, and, a moment later, 
Jack rushed in, followed by 
a crowd of peasants, men 
and boys, armed with sticks, 
stones, and knives. 

"Come on ! Haidec ! Hai- 
dcc !" yelled McGreggor, 
making the most of his Turk- 
ish, and brandishing a pis- 
tol. "Sandy !" He stopped 
short, white-faced and pant- 
ing, as he saw his friend. 
"Sandy ! They— they have 
n't hurt you?" 

"I 'm all right, Jack. 
Deeny 's the one that 's hurt. 
There !" He pointed to the 
wounded Turk. 

"I 'm ashamed of myself, 
way down to the ground, 
Sandy, about the way I — 
went off and — and— left 
you," stammered McGreggor 
and— and— I was so scared, I 



shamefacedly, shifting from one foot to the other, 
and kicking awkwardly at the pavement stones. 

"Cheer up !" said Harold. "You were n't half as 
scared as I was. I did n't have legs enough to run." 




THEY LISTENED WITH ABSORBED INTEREST TO BASIL S CONFESSION. 



"I got so rattled "Honest?" Jack smiled faintly at this corn- 
He looked down forting admission. "You don't mean it — do you?" 

397 



598 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



[May, 



"Honest. But, Jack,— where did you get your 
army ?" 

"Picked 'em up — in the fields around here," 
grinned McGreggor. "Shook some money in their 
faces and made 'em understand I wanted 'em 
to help me clean out this place. Can't we do it, 
Sandy? I want to make good somehow." 

"You have made good!" declared Evans. "Did 
n't I see you sail in here like a conquering hero? 
It is n't your fault if the strangest thing in the 
world has happened." 

Then Harold took his friend aside and related 
his experience with the Greek monk. 

McGreggor shook his head incredulously. "He 's 
up to some queer game or other. If he 's going 
to tell you everything, why does n't he do it?" 

"He will, but — he wants to go to Bethlehem 
first. Then he '11 tell us," said Harold, confi- 
dently. "Y r ou '11 see." 

So it came about that Harold and Jack, # re- 




A DISTANT VIEW OF BETHLEHEM. 

united, rode on to the clean and smiling village, 
the City of David, that spreads its white houses 
among gardens and vineyards terraced up the 
sides of a rugged hill. With them rode Nasr-ed- 
Din, despite his pain and scorning the offer of a 
seat in the monk's carriage. It was joy at finding 
his young master safe that had given the Turk 
fresh courage. His wounds were nothing, he de- 
clared. 

Having left their horses at a Russian convent 
near the Church of the Nativity, and having put 
Deeny, much against his will, into the hands of a 
one-eyed Arabian doctor, the boys followed Basil 
to his house, one of the largest and most preten- 
tious in the town, standing in a garden of date- 
palms just beyond the famous "Milk Grotto." 
Here, in a spacious room with comfortable divans 
ranged along the walls and quite bare of chairs, 
as is the custom, they listened with absorbed in- 
terest to the monk's confession. 

"All my troubles have come," Basil began, "be- 



cause for years it has been my duty to deal with 
peasants and pilgrims so ignorant and supersti- 
tious that they will believe anything you tell them. 
For instance, there is a cave near this house 
called the 'Milk Grotto'; we passed it just now. 
According to tradition, the chalk in this cave has 
had miraculous health-giving properties, so I hit 
upon the idea of digging out chalk anywhere in 
the surrounding hills, and selling it as coming 
from the Milk Grotto." 

"I don't see what this has to do with me," in- 
terrupted Harold. 

"Wait ! This thing was a fraud, but it brought 
in money— a great deal of money — and — it led me 
into other frauds. I was a poor carpenter at this 
time, with a little shop in the tower of the Church 
of the Holy Sepulcher." 

"I know," said the boy. 

"I soon neglected that work and devoted myself 
entirely to my new enterprises. I also began 
manufacturing 'relics' supposed to be made of 
olive-wood from the Mount of Olives and the 
Garden of Gethsemane. Then I took charge of 
the place where you found me. It is a sort of 
hospital, where people are kept who are weak- 
minded." 

Here a silent servant appeared with Turkish 
coffee, and the boys sipped this fragrant beverage 
from egg-shell cups that rested, native fashion, in 
other cups of hammered brass. 

"About a year ago," resumed Basil, "there was 
brought to me and— er— put in my charge an 
American gentleman who — " 

"My father !" cried Harold, starting to his feet. 

The monk bowed gravely. "It is true. Dr. 
Wicklow Evans, your father, was brought to me 
— a prisoner. Please sit down." 

"My father !" repeated the boy, in a half-daze. 
"Where was he brought to you? At the place we 
have just left? Is he there now? What have you 
done with my father? Tell me! Tell me!" he 
demanded. 

"I have promised to tell you everything, sir, but 
—please sit down." 

"Sit down, Sandy. Give him a chance," urged 
Jack. 

"I — I 've got to know one thing right off. Is 
my father — is he alive ?" Harold's breath came 
hard as he waited for the answer. 

"Yes." 

"Is he — is he here — in Bethlehem?" 

"No." 

"But you know where he is? Y'ou 're sure you 
know where he is?" 

"I am sure I know where he is." 

With a sigh of relief, the boy settled back on 
the divan, and Basil continued : 



I9I3-] 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



599 



"I may as well explain why I am telling you 
this, and why I did not use force against you this 
morning, as I might easily have done. It was be- 




THE SCORPION-KILLER AT WORK. (SEE PAGE 603 



cause of a promise made to your father while he 
was with me. I made this promise on my return 
from a journey to Jericho, a miserable place in 
the Jordan valley. You will pass that way going 
to see your father, and I warn you against the 
flies. Their bite is deadly. 

"Well, one of these flies bit me on the forehead, 
just between the eyes, and I had an ugly sore 
there with a swelling that grew worse and worse, 
until both my eyes were involved. I was in ter- 
rible pain, and the Jerusalem doctor feared I 
would lose my sight. Then your father said he 
could help me, and — within three days he had 
cured me." 

"Father is a wonderful physician !" exclaimed 
Harold, proudly. 

"Without going into details, you understand I 
had not treated Dr. Evans kindly, and he had re- 
turned good for evil. At first I hated him for 
being so cheery and forgiving. But, as the days 
passed and he was always the same, always anx- 
ious to help and never complaining, I could not 



resist his influence, and— I saw that one of two 
things must happen: either he must leave the 
monastery, or I must change my whole life." 

"It was your conscience waking up?" ventured 
Harold. 

The monk was silent a moment, and when he 
spoke again, it was in a gentler tone. 

"Perhaps, but — my conscience went to sleep 
again. I did not propose to have my prosperous 
business interfered with, so I arranged to have 
Dr. Evans taken away to — another place. He 
understood why I was sending him away. He 
said the seed was growing in my heart. He said 
that some day I would give up my wicked life 
and— do right. He said that there was no other 
way to be happy. I laughed at him, but — I was 
uneasy. 

"Then there was another thing. Your father 
declared he would not be a prisoner very long. 
He was sure he would be back at his work in 
Adana in a few months. I said it was impossible, 
he was closely watched, he had no chance to send 
a letter, and none of his friends knew where he 
was. 

" 'My wife will find me,' he said, 'or my old 
servant, Nasr-ed-Din, will find me, or — my boy 
will find me.' " 




"A STATELY CAMEL WITH A BEDOUIN RIDER." 
(SEE PAGE 603.) 

Harold's face was radiant as he heard these 
words. 

"Oh !" he cried, "did my father say that?" 



600 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



[May, 




"Many times ; and I always laughed at him. 
'How can they find you?' I said. 'How will they 
ever know where to look for you?' 

" 'God will guide them,' he answered, and then 
he told me of a strange thing he had done at the 
Great Pyramid. It seems that, after he was taken, 
he was secreted for a short time in one of the 
least accessible of the five chambers of the pyra- 
mid, and— you know about the message he wrote 
there?" 

"Yes, yes," replied the boy, impatiently. 

"I don't see how Dr. Evans happened to men- 
tion you in that message, Mr. Basil," objected 
Jack. "Did he know you then ? Had he ever seen 
you?" 

"No, but the men who captured Dr. Evans told 
him he would be taken to Jerusalem and put in 
my charge, so he knew my name. And he prayed 
day and night that his wife or his son or his ser- 
vant might be led to the pyramid, and might read 
his message. 

"I told him this was ridiculous. 'Do you imag- 
ine that any prayer of yours, here in Bethlehem,' 
I said, 'can make people journey thousands of 
miles to a little dark room in Egypt that they 
never have heard of?' 

" 'I do,' said he. 'Prayer can do more than 
that. You will believe in it some day, my friend.' 



"It was then that I made the promise. 'Doctor,' 
said I, 'if your prayers should accomplish that, 
if they should bring your people to read this mes- 
sage, and then lead them to me — ' 

" 'Then what ?' your father asked, and I felt his 
strong power dominating me. 

" 'Then I will help those who come !' I said, and 
it was like a vow. 

"The next day, Dr. Evans was taken away— 
that was ten months ago. I have not seen him 
since. I have tried to forget him. I have gone 
on with my old life, but — the promise stands. The 
impossible thing has happened. Your father's 
prayers have been answered. You are here. You 
need help. Very well, you shall have it. It will 
ruin me, it will drive me out of the country, but — 
I will keep my promise to your father." 

Harold faced the monk in perplexity. 

"Why will it ruin you to keep this promise? 
Why will it drive you out of the country ?" he 
asked. 

"Because the— person who had your father 
brought here is powerful — terribly so. When he 
finds that I have betrayed his trust, my life 
won't be worth that," and the monk snapped his 
fingers. 

"But— it seems to me you betrayed your trust 
long ago," objected Sandy. "You say you have 



I913-] 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



601 



n't seen my father for ten months. That does n't 
look like guarding him very well." 

Basil nodded grimly. "Your father has been 
guarded well enough. You will find that out, 
young man, when you— when you try to see him." 

Now swiftly Harold put the all-important ques- 
tion : "Where is my father?" 

Both boys expected that the monk would meet 
them here with denial or evasion, but the answer 
came straight and prompt : "In one of the cliffs of 
Mar Saba." 

"Mar Saba?" repeated Evans. 

"Mar Saba ?" echoed Jack. It was plain that 
neither of them had ever heard of the place. 

"It is down in the Dead Sea wilderness, about 
twenty miles from here," explained the monk. 
"It is built like a fortress against a precipice, with 
a great gulf beneath. It has stood there for fif- 
teen hundred years." 

Basil explained that the fortress of Mar Saba 
was occupied by some sixty Greek monks, who 
lived there entirely apart from the world, spend- 
ing their years in prayer and meditation. 

"Does the person who sent my father to you," 
asked Harold, "the one who is so powerful — does 
he know that my father is at Mar Saba?" 

"No." 

"He has not found it out in all these months?" 

"No. You understand that this— person does 
not live in Palestine." 

"I suppose he lives in Egypt ?" suggested Mc- 
Greggor. 

"Never mind where he lives, and — don't ask 
who he is. I have promised to help you find Dr. 
Wicklow Evans ; that is all I have promised." 

"That 's enough," said Evans. 

"If you follow my directions, I believe you can 
succeed ; but it will not be easy. The man at Mar 
Saba who guards your father is a cunning fellow. 
He knows my secret, he discovered it, and I have 
had to pay him heavily — more than half of what 
I receive. He will not easily surrender so valu- 
able a prisoner." 

Again the silent servant appeared with coffee, 
after which Basil took up the practical matter of 
the boys' journey to Mar Saba. 

"The Dead Sea valley is a wild, fever-stricken 
region infested by robbers," he said. "Many trav- 
elers have been held up there and plundered. You 
must know the dangers and be prepared to meet 
them. I will arrange everything, will help you, and 
see that you have the best possible chance of 
finding and rescuing Dr. Evans, on condition that 
you wait two weeks in Jerusalem before you start. 
You must promise that. And, of course, you will 
say nothing about meeting me or receiving any 
assistance from me ?" 
Vol. XL. -76. 



The boys readily agreed to do this, whereupon 
Basil made a movement as if to rise and end the 
interview. 

"One moment, please," said Harold, with the 
eager earnestness that John McGreggor had often 
admired. "This is a big thing you are doing for 
us, Mr. Basil, and — don't think me impertinent, 
but— I wish you 'd tell me why you want us to 
wait two weeks." 

The monk shook his head. "You must not ask 
that." 

But Sandy Evans persisted. "As you don't 
want to tell me, may I make a guess? You 're 
going to leave the country? You 're going to get 
on a steamer that will land you in Italy, or Spain, 
or maybe America— some place where you '11 be 
safe from this man who is so powerful. Is that 
it?" 

The monk hesitated. "You 're a clever young- 
man," he said finally. 

"I only put two and two together, but— see here, 
I don't believe you have to leave the country. I 'd 
like to see you stay right here where you belong, 
and— not run away." 

Basil looked wonderingly into the strong young 
face before him, into the steadfast gray eyes that 
met his unflinchingly. 

"Don't move !" he said. "Stay like that— just a 
moment. It 's extraordinary !" 

"What is?" 

"How you look like your father — now! And 
you talk like your father." 

"He 's a chip of the old block," laughed Jack. 

"I hope I do look like my father !" said Harold, 
proudly. "I wish I could speak like him, too. If 
I could, I 'd get you to stay in Bethlehem and win 
out." 

"Why should you care what I do or— what be- 
comes of me?" sighed the monk. 

"I do care. I want you to stay and help set 
right some of these things you know are wrong. 
Will you do it? Say, will you?" 

Basil shook his head gloomily. "It 's too late !" 

"Why is it too late? You 've got years to live. 
Do you think you '11 ever be happy if you run 
away ? Why, you '11 remember all these things 
that you 've done and— hate yourself. My father 
would tell you to stay here and help these people 
that need you, just as you 're helping me when I 
need you. Father was right— the seed was grow- 
ing in your heart. He said you 'd give up your 
wicked life. Well, you will. You 've done it 
already. That 's why you kept your promise. You 
did n't dare break it. You said so yourself. And 
now you won't dare to run away from the thing 
that you ought to do. You won't dare be a quit- 
ter ; you won't dare!" 



602 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



[May, 



Chapter XVIII 

THE MOUNTAINS OF JUDAH 

In spite of Harold's inspired outburst, Basil in- 
sisted that the young travelers put off their de- 
parture for Mar Saba at least two weeks. It was 
on this condition only that the monk would give 
them his promised help, and the boys soon real- 
ized that without this they would be sorely em- 
barrassed. A journey into the Dead Sea valley 
was in itself a hazardous undertaking, but for 
two inexperienced lads to attempt the rescue of a 
prisoner from a fortress — it amounted to that — 
without knowing exactly what they were doing 
and how they proposed to do it, this was a piece 
of hopeless folly. Furthermore, there was the 
problem of Telecjian. 

"Poor old Ashrag ! — down in the coal-bin. 
What are we going to do with him?" wondered 
Jack. 

"I 've been thinking about that," said Sandy. 
"It 's quite a sticker. We can't leave him down 
in those quarries to starve, and we can't let him 
out, and we can't take him with us." 

For two days, the boys, back now in their Jeru- 
salem quarters, worried over this problem ; and 
twice Deeny, whose wounds had healed rapidly, 
made his way through the labyrinth of black 
caverns, bringing food and water to the Syrian. 
Then, on the third day, the difficulty was sud- 
denly relieved through no less a person than 
Basil himself, who came to Harold in joyful ex- 
citement, having in some way learned of Telec- 
jian's confinement in the quarries. 

"But — this makes a great difference to me !" 
Basil exclaimed. "This man is my enemy. He 
was employed to follow you just as I was em- 
ployed to watch your father." 

"By the same person?" asked Evans. 

"Yes, and— don't you see? He knows what I 
have done. He has me in his power— that is to 
say, he had me in his power, but now — " 

Harold shook his head disapprovingly. "See 
here, if you think you 're going to work off any 
old grudge you 've got against Telecjian just be- 
cause he 's down there helpless—" 

"No, no ! I don't mean that. I only ask to 
make terms with him. He wants his liberty. He 
will leave the country. That is the best thing for 
all of us." 

"Leave the country," reflected Sandy. "If you 
can make Telecjian leave the country—" 

"Make him?" Basil smiled mysteriously. "My 
young friend, he will board the first ship that 
sails and get away so fast that— wait and see." 

And, sure enough, three days later, the coin 
collector, with furtive glances over his shoulder 



every other moment and an anxious look in his 
eyes, steamed away from the orange groves of 
Jaffa, from the clustered memories of Jonah, An- 
dromeda, and Hardegg. As Jack expressed it, it 
seemed "a safe guess that he would collect no 
more coins in Palestine." 

"I don't know exactly how Brother Basil 
worked this," pondered Harold ; "I guess there 's 
more in it than we understand, Jack, but it looks 
to me as if we 've rather handed it to Arshag 
Mesrop Telecjian." 

"Well, just a little," grinned McGreggor. 

While the boys saw the wisdom and necessity 
of trusting Basil to make arrangements for the 
expedition, they fretted under the delay. 

"If you could only hurry things up a little, Mr. 
Basil," urged Harold. "Deeny 's all right now, 
and — you see it 's ten days that we 've been held 
up here. What 's the matter with our starting 
for Mar Saba?" 

The monk shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Start 
if you will, but what then? Suppose you get to 
Mar Saba? What can you do there? I tell you 
the place is a fortress. It would take an army to 
capture it." 

"But there must be some way," insisted Sandy. 
"Now if money will do any good." 

Basil shook his head. "If it was only a ques- 
tion of money, I would give a thousand liras my- 
self to get your father safely out of that place." 

Harold's heart sank; he knew that a thousand 
Turkish liras was over four thousand dollars. 

"Then you mean there 's no use in our going to 
Mar Saba?" he asked. 

"I don't say that." 

"I '11 tell you what we '11 do," burst out Mc- 
Greggor ; "we '11 go straight to the United States 
consul in Jerusalem, and tell him this whole 
story. We '11 see whether American citizens have 
any rights or not in this crazy land !" 

Basil held up his hand in warning. 

"No, you will not do that." 

"Why not?" 

"Because you would destroy Dr. Evans instead 
of saving him." 

The man's eyes darkened formidably. 

"I 'm afraid he 's right, Jack," whispered 
Evans. "You know what my mother wrote." 

"Do you mean to say," put in McGreggor, un- 
convinced, "that the person back of all this is big 
enough to get away with the United States ?" 

Basil nodded grimly. "Before the United 
States could do anything to help Dr. Evans, it 
would be too late." 

"But you 've been encouraging us all these 
days," protested Harold. "You said we might 
succeed. You said you would help us?" 



I9I3-] 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



603 



"So I will, but you must be patient." 

Then the monk informed them that, three days 
before, he had sent his trusted servant, Gabriel, 
down into the Dead Sea valley to find a certain 
Bedouin named Khalil, the leader of a wandering 
tribe, and give him certain instructions looking 
to the rescue of Dr. Wicklow Evans. 

"This man Khalil," explained Basil, "is re- 
ceived at Mar Saba as my representative ; he sees 
the prisoner whenever he wishes. I shall have 
more to tell you as soon as Gabriel returns." 

With this the boys had to be content, and for 
three days they chafed through the hours, taking 
more pictures, watching the crowds of pilgrims 
and peasants that swarmed in the Jerusalem mar- 
ket-place, and getting a bit of excitement in the 
evenings as they watched the activities of Nehe- 
miah, a scorpion-killer, who, with lantern on his 
turbaned head and bag under his arm, passed 
gravely through the narrow streets, impaling on 
his quick rapier the dangerous black pests as they 
scurried over the walls. 

"Nice country," remarked Jack. "Deadly flies 
in Jericho, and scorpions in Jerusalem." 

On the fourth day, very early in the morning, 
Gabriel arrived and brought good news from the 
Bedouin, it appeared, for Basil immediately sent 
for Harold and unfolded his plan to accomplish 
by a ruse what would be impossible by violence. 
McGreggor was not present at this interview, and 
was somewhat chagrined when Harold reported 
that the details were to be kept secret for twenty- 
four hours. 

"You must n't be offended, Jack. It is n't any 
reflection on you. Basil thinks we might talk 
about the thing and— somebody might overhear 
us. See?" 

"That 's all right," said Jack, a little stand- 
offish; but he soon forgot his wounded dignity 
when he learned that they were to start for the 
Jordan valley in a few hours, and threw himself 
zealously into preparations for the trip. 

"How long will we be gone ?" he asked, as they 
packed their saddle-bags. 

Evans hesitated, and McGreggor saw that he 
was dying to tell him something. 

"Go on," he teased. "A week? A month? 
Can't you give a fellow some idea?" 

Harold leaned close to his friend and whis- 
pered : "It may be all over by this time to-morrow 
night." 

"You mean— we may have your father with us 
—to-morrow night?" 

Evans's face brightened into a radiant smile. 
"Yes, old boy, that 's what I mean. Now don't 
ask any more questions, please don't." 

It was two o'clock that" afternoon when the 



young horsemen shook hands with Basil and the 
little cavalcade clattered down David Street with 
a great jangling of bells from a pack-mule that 
carried extra clothing and the picture apparatus. 

As they passed Gethsemane, outside the gates 
— Gabriel riding first, then the boys, then Deeny, 
leading an extra saddle-horse, and, last, the mule- 
teer — they came upon a line of beggars the sad- 
dest in the world, blind, crippled, and lepers, who 
straightway began to beat their tin pails and 
flaunt their misery. 

"Hawadja! Hawadja!" ("Master! Master!") 
they cried, in long-drawn, wailing chorus. 

"Ugh !" shivered Jack. "Let 's give 'em a few 
coppers and get along." 

Harold nodded. 

"B-r-r-h-h," he said to his horse, with a kick 
backward against the hind leg; and immediately 
the gait quickened. 

"Is that the way you do it ? 'B-r-r-h-h,' " imi- 
tated McGreggor, and his horse started forward 
on a canter. "Whoa, there ! Not so fast ! How 
do you tell 'em to whoa, Sandy, in Turkish?" 

"Heesh, heesh!" called Evans, and the horses 
slowed down again. 

Presently, they came to a hilltop (pointed out to 
tourists as the hill where Judas hanged himself), 
and looked down upon a stretch of ancient grave- 
yards over which great vultures were soaring. 

"Talk about flying-machines !" exclaimed Jack. 
"See how those enormous birds sail along without 
moving a feather. Why, they 're as tame as 
chickens." 

"That 's because no one ever shoots 'em," said 
Harold. Then for a long distance they rode on in 
silence through a dead and dreary solitude. No 
trees, no fields of grain, no vineyards, no vegeta- 
tion of any sort. Only rolling rock-hills and roll- 
ing rock-valleys as far as the eye could see— bare 
rocks and sand, blotched with harsh colors, like 
slag out of a furnace. They were passing 
through the mountains of Judah. 

On before them, through this desolation, ran 
the road's white trail, making queer long loops 
and corkscrew turnings— a child could not trace a 
crazier line with chalk on yellow paper. And 
along this road came other wayfarers, dust-cov- 
ered pilgrims, or brisk donkey trains, or now and 
then a stately camel, one of the desert runners, 
with a white-shrouded Bedouin rider, his bare, 
brown feet dangling over a gaily tasseled saddle 
blanket. 

Three hours of journeying through this wilder- 
ness brought the boys to a point of high ground 
that rose like a watch-tower above the surround- 
ing hills. Far behind them, clearly outlined 
against the setting sun, rose the Mount of Olives 



604 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



with its obelisk tower. And, as they turned to the 
east, where the long shadows extended, they saw 
that the hills fell away sharply before them, flat- 
tening down into rolling mounds with a level of 
dazzling white beyond, the white of snow or a 
glacier, and through this ran a dark blue line like 
a river — it was a river, it was the Jordan rushing 
on through its last chalk beds to the Dead Sea. 

The Dead Sea ! Not yet visible, but hidden 
away there at the right, down in the gulf between 
these yellow mountains and the blue ones in the 
distance, deep down in the gulf between the 
mountains of Judah and the mountains of Moab. 



Harold and Jack sat motionless on their horses, 
drinking in the strange, wild beauty of the scene. 
From the low-hanging sun came a light softened 
by the mists of evening. A pinkish haze seemed 
to settle over the hills, and in broad bands 
the colors of the rainbow, red, and orange, and 
purple, spread above them. 

Jack thought of various things he would like to 
say, but they seemed "like things out of a book," 
and he felt somehow ashamed to say them. So 
he finally blurted out : 

"Some picture, old boy !" 

And Sandy answered: "Right you are!" 



{To be continued.) 



\\W 







s* 






EMPTY TROUBLES 



BY S. E. KISER 

When I blow away a bubble, and then gladly watch it float, 
I forget that I have trouble. It is like a fairy's boat, 

But it 's gone in just a minute, 

For, you see, there 's nothing in it ; 
Like an empty bit of nothing, lighter than a drop of dew, 

Dancing sunbeams glimmer through it; 

Very often, if we knew it, 
Light might shine through troubles, too. 



When you have a foolish trouble, why not treat it as a bubble 

To be blithely blown away? 
Just draw in your breath and blow it, and almost before you know it, 

You will treat your task as play; '-: 

Even though it may be raining, 

You may cease to sadly fret. 

And contentedly forget 
To be sighing and complaining. 

Come, let 's blow away our troubles as we blow away the bubbles 

That so quickly disappear, 

Leaving no sad traces here ; 
Trouble 's gone in just a minute, for, you see, there 's nothing in it, 

When we give up sighing sadly 

And keep looking upward gladly. 

Speaking only words of cheer. 





LITTLE DOG 
TOGO 



EDITH DAVIDSON 

WITH PICTURES 

BY 
CLARA ATWOOD 







"OSUMIRI SAN TAUGHT ME TO SIT UP AND BEG." (SEE PAGE 606.) 



|Hr .AM only ;i little black dog, Togo, 
jSffij I but you may like to hear of my 

f|n|i| MtWF wanderings from far- 

■ JftlS&l!^ away Japan to this great 
)m» WSmP*^ country of America. 
jpv ; *Vaai?5 ^ was born on tne estate 

'MBi^]HBR£g&&L of the renowned Admiral 
Togo, and my earliest rec- 
ollection is of a childish 
voice saying, "I thank the 
Honorable One for giving 
such a beautiful dog to so 
unworthy a person, and it 
shall have a good name. 
I will call it Togo." 
Then I felt two small arms, which, carefully 
lifting me up, pressed me against a soft, warm 
cheek. That is how I first knew my dear little 
mistress, O Sumiri San. 

She was very pretty, with silky, black hair, 
dark eyes, delicate pink cheeks, and a little mouth 
which was always smiling. Her name, O Sumiri 
San, in the Japanese language means Violet 



Flower, and in her dainty silk gown, with a clus- 
ter of peach blossoms in her hair, she looked like 
a lovely flower herself. 

She was the only daughter of a rich Japanese 
nobleman who was a friend of Admiral Togo, 
and it was during a visit to his country-house that 
I was given to O Sumiri San by the great ad- 
miral himself. 

My little mistress lived with her father and 
mother in a beautiful house, surrounded by a 
wonderful garden, not very far from the city of 
Tokio. In the garden was a pond full of gold 
and silver fish, and there was also a little river 
crossed by four stone bridges. In the middle of 
the pond was a small island, on which was a 
pretty tea-house covered with wisteria-vines. 
There O Sumiri San was taught her lessons, and 
there I, too, received my education. 

I am afraid that I was often a very mischievous 
puppy, but never did my little mistress whip me. 
When in my play I had broken a vase or de- 
stroyed a pretty cushion, she would look very sad 
and say, "Naughty Togo, you can have no dinner. 



605 



606 



LITTLE DOG TOGO 



[May, 



Go into the corner and stay there until you are a 
good little dog." How ashamed I would be as, 
with my tail between my legs, I would creep 
away and hide. 

O Sumiri San taught me many pretty tricks : 
to sit up and beg ; to play I was asleep until she 
would say, "The Russians are coming!" when I 
would jump up and bark fiercely; to walk on my 
hind legs, and to dance on them also— one, two, 
three— one, two, three. Ah, those happy, happy 
days ! How much misery I have known since 
then ! 

One morning, when I came in from my early 
scamper, I fpund, to my astonishment, that my 
little mistress was still in bed. Jumping up beside 
her, I urged her with nose and paw to get up and 
play, but her mother lifted me gently from the 
bed, and, putting me in my basket, she said: "Lie 
still, little Togo, and do not disturb Kawaii [Be- 
loved] ; she is tired and wants to sleep." 

After that, for many days, it seemed as if my 



OCho HanaSarC 




togo performing with miss butterfly flower, 
(see page 607.) 

little mistress was always sleeping. Sometimes I 
would think I heard her call me, and jumping 
from my basket, I would run quickly to her side ; 
but she never seemed to know me, although I 
licked her little hand and whined. One morning 
when I woke up, I found that I was no longer in 
O Sumiri San's room; in the night, while I slept, 



I had been carried to another part of the house, 
and soon after Otonashi [the Good-Tempered], 
one of the maids, came and took me to the tea- 
house in the garden, where she shut me in and 
left me. How I whined and cried to be let out ! 
Food and water were brought to me, but time 
passed very slowly, and at every sound, I ex- 
pected to see my mistress coming to play with 
me. 

All that day and all the next night, I stayed in 
the tea-house, unhappy and alone ; then, at last, 
Otonashi came and carried me back to the house. 
Up the stairs I ran as fast as I could go, barking 
with joy. The door of O Sumiri San's room was 
open, but in a moment I saw that no one was 
there. Down the stairs I dashed once more, and 
in room after room I hunted, but nowhere could 
I find my darling little mistress. 

Then I went back to the garden. Round and 
round I ran, hunting in every nook and corner, 
but nowhere could I find a trace of O Sumiri 
San. Finally, I decided that she had gone to visit 
her grandmother, who lived in the city of Tokio. 
I had often been there with my mistress, and I 
felt sure that I could find the way. 

Never had I been allowed to go outside the gar- 
den alone, but no one saw me as I crept under 
the gate and trotted quickly down the road to- 
ward the city. I soon began to feel both tired 
and hungry, for I had been too unhappy to eat 
my breakfast that morning. Willingly would I 
have rested for a while, but I was so anxious to 
find my little mistress that I took new courage 
and hurried on. When at last I reached the city, 
the crowded streets confused me so that I did 
not know which way to turn. I ran first in one 
direction, then in another, but the houses seemed 
to become smaller and uglier as I went on, and 
not at all like the one I was hunting for. Finally, 
I was so tired that I could go no farther, and 
finding a quiet corner, I lay down and fell fast 
asleep. 

I was suddenly awakened by some one touching 
me, and, jumping up, I saw a strange man stand- 
ing beside me. He had a very ugly face, with a 
long, hooked nose, and only one eye. His clothes 
were shabby and not clean, and his hands looked 
as though they had never been washed. I heard 
him say, "He will do nicely to take old Kame's 
place," and the next moment he had picked me 
up, and was putting me into a bag. How I strug- 
gled to get away ! I even bit the man, although 
I had been taught never to bite ; but it was of no 
use, I was tied up in the bag and carried off. 

I next saw the light in a dark, dingy-looking 
room, where there were a number of men and 
women. As the one-eyed man took me from the 



I9I3-] 



LITTLE DOG TOGO 



607 



bag and put me on the floor, every one cried : 
"Oh, what a pretty little dog ! Where did you get 
him, and can he do tricks?" 

"He has already done the trick of biting me, 
and this is to pay for it," he answered, and he 
gave me a blow. Never in my life had I been 
struck, and it made me both angry and dizzy. 
Miserable and unhappy, I crawled away into a 
dark corner, and, in spite of coaxing, I refused 
to come out. "Leave him alone," said the man, 
whom they called Mekkachi San, meaning the 
One-Eyed One, "he '11 feel better when he has 
sulked a while, and then I '11 begin to teach him 
his manners." 

Late in the evening, when every one had gone 
away and I was alone, a pretty young girl came 
quietly into the room with a plate of food. She 
talked so gently and kindly to me, that very soon 
I let her take me in her arms. How I longed to 
be able to ask her to take me home to my dear 
O Sumiri San ! I felt that she was sorry for me, 
and from that night we were the best of friends. 
When I first saw her dancing so lightly on a wire 
in the air, I did not wonder that she was called 

Cho Hana San, which means Miss Butterfly 
Flower. She was so pretty, so gentle, so obliging 
to all, that every one loved her, and many a time 
did she protect me from the anger of Mekkachi 
San. Without her, I do not think I could have 
lived through all those months of misery. 

I had been stolen by the leader of a company 
of acrobats, who traveled about the country, giv- 
ing exhibitions at the Temple Fairs. They had 
also trained animals : Saru, a hideous little mon- 
key, two Angora cats, a dozen white mice, a talk- 
ing parrot, and Kihei, the old pony, who was al- 
most past his usefulness. Their dog, Kame, had 
died, and I was to take his place in the exhibi- 
tions. 

My red collar, with its pretty, golden bells, was 
taken from my neck, and in its place was fas- 
tened an old strap with a brass buckle. Then 
Mekkachi San began to teach me tricks, and when 

1 did not mind him, he whipped me. That terri- 
fied me so that I forgot all the tricks I had ever 
known, and I could not even remember how to 
sit up and beg. At last Mekkachi San became 
very angry, and, after shaking me with all his 
might, he threw me into a corner and stamped 
out of the room. 

A few minutes later, O Cho Hana San crept 
quietly in. She took me in her arms to pet and 
comfort me, whispering, "Be a good little dog 
Koinu (for so they had named me) and mind 
Mekkachi San. Your life will be much happier 
if you do." 

So, day after day, I was taught tricks which I 



did not want to learn. To climb up a ladder and 
to stand on my head at the top ; to drill like a sol- 
dier and to beat a drum; to be harnessed to a 
small cart in which sat Saru, the monkey, and 
to dance with the cats. 

My only friend was O Cho Hana San. I did 
not like Saru, the monkey, who was very mis- 
chievous, and I hated the cats, who were always 
stealing my food, and who scratched me when- 




"HE BEGAN TO TALK TO THE MAN IN SOME 
STRANGE LANGUAGE." (SEE PAGE 608.) 

ever they had the chance. Old Kihei, the pony, 
was friendly, but he was half blind, and rarely 
cared to talk. 

At last, early one morning, everything was 
packed into the itto basha [horse carriage], and 
very soon we had left Tokio behind us. How I 
longed to run away, but, alas ! Mekkachi San had 
tied me in the wagon, so there was no chance 
of escape. 

We stopped at various towns where fairs were 
being held, and gave exhibitions. When I did my 
tricks well, I had my supper, but if Mekkachi San 
was not satisfied, I went to bed without food and 
with an aching back. Sometimes O Cho Hana 
San would slip in to comfort me with a bowl of 
rice or a bit of bread, but she also was afraid of 
the master, and dared not incur his displeasure. 

One unhappy day, while O Cho Hana San was 
dancing high in the air, she became dizzy, and, 
losing her balance, she fell to the ground and 



608 



LITTLE DOG TOGO 



[May, 



was badly hurt. The doctors said that after a 
long time she would get well, but that never again 
could she dance on the wire, and when we moved 
on to the next town, the Butterfly Flower was left 
behind. With my oniy friend gone, I was more 
miserable than ever, and I made up my mind to 
run away as soon as I could. 

I slept in the stable with old Kihei, and one 




WfVVMOf 

'\G*J>l«if.','.j 

"I LOVE TO LIE IN THE WARM SUNSHINE." 
(SEE PAGE 6lO.) 

night Mekkachi San forgot to tie me. When 
the hostler came to give the pony his supper, he 
left the stable door open, and in a moment I had 
slipped out into the street. Then how I ran ! On 
and on I went, mile after mile, in what direction 
I did not know, but I was free ! 

When it began to grow light, I crept behind a 
thick hedge, and there, safely hidden, I soon fell 
asleep. So tired was I that I did not wake up till 
the afternoon shadows were lengthening. I was 
very hungry, but I dared not go near a village, 
which was close by, for fear of being caught. 
So I waited until it was quite dark, and then, near 
a small house, I found an old bone, and a pool 
of water where I could drink. 

Always hoping that I might reach Tokio, I 
traveled on night after night, until I was worn 
out with hunger and weariness. My feet were 
bruised with the sharp stones, my mouth and eyes 
were full of dust, and my pretty black fur, of 
which my little mistress had taken such care, was 
rough and dirty. 

At last, one morning I came to a long beach 



close to the ocean. Not far off was a big town, 
and in the harbor were many ships at anchor. 

As I lay down on the soft sand to rest, a sailor- 
man and a boy came toward me. For a moment, 
I was tempted to run away, but the boy was eat- 
ing a large piece of bread, and I was starving, so 
I wagged my tail and whined. When the boy 
saw me, he laughed, then, throwing me the bread, 
he began to talk to the man in some strange lan- 
guage. The man looked at me, and then nodded 
to the boy, who, picking me up in his arms, ran 
quickly to a boat which was pulled up on the 
shore. I struggled to get away, but the boy held 
me fast, and, in a few moments, the man had 
pushed the boat into the water, and was rowing 
us toward a big sailing-vessel which lay close by. 

When we went on board, the sailors crowded 
about me, laughing and joking. I could not under- 
stand what they said, but I knew they were mak- 
ing fun of me, and I longed to run away and hide. 

Very soon I saw the sailors pulling up the 
anchor and unfurling the great sails. At first I 
was interested, for I had never before been on 
a ship, but suddenly I realized that I was being 
carried away from my own country of Japan, and 
that I should never again be able to find my dear 
O Sumiri San. How I whined and barked, trying 
in vain to jump over the side of the ship into the 
water, that I might swim to shore. 

The sailors were a rough, careless lot of men, 
but I amused them, and, after a while, I began to 
learn many of their words. They would make me 
"sit up and beg" until my back ached. 

For weeks and weeks, we sailed along, the sea 
being sometimes smooth and sometimes very 
rough. During one awful storm, the great waves 
swept over the ship as though they were trying 
to drag her down to the bottom of the ocean, and 
even the sailors feared they would never see land 
again. At last, however, the sea became quite 
calm, and one pleasant morning we dropped an- 
chor in the big harbor of Boston. Every one hur- 
ried on shore, and I was left alone on the ship, 
without even a bone to keep me company. 

The next morning, I heard voices outside the 
cabin, and soon after Jack came in, followed by 
a young man who evidently wished to see me. 
He looked me over very carefully, and then, shak- 
ing his head, he said, "Not good enough; let me 
see the birds," for there were a number of tropi- 
cal birds on board for sale. How my heart sank 
as he turned away, for I had hoped that he might 
buy me, ugly and dirty as I looked, and take me 
far from the dreadful ship. 

But a few minutes later, Jack came running 
back, jingling some money in one hand, and with 
a basket in the other. 






I9I.3-] 



LITTLE DOG TOGO 



609 



"In you go, old boy, he 's bought you after all !" 
he cried, picking me up and putting me in the 
basket ; and before I knew what was happening, 
I was in the young man's automobile, and we 
were speeding along the city streets. I had never 
been in an automobile before, although I had 
often seen them, and for a few moments I was 
terrified; then I began to enjoy the swift motion, 
and I have loved it ever since. 

We drove through winding streets, between 
very high buildings of brick and stone, such as 
I had never seen. The sidewalks were crowded 
with people who all seemed to be in such a great 
hurry that I thought they must be running to a fire. 
I have since learned, however, that the Americans, 
unlike the Japanese, never walk slowly. After a 
while, we left the city and soon came out on a 
broad road close to the ocean. How 
good the air felt as we swept along ! 
We began to pass beautiful country- 
houses set in big gardens, and after 
we had driven many, many miles, we 
climbed a hill, and, passing between 
high iron gates, we entered a long, 
shady driveway. 

Soon we stopped in front of a great 
house, where, taking me from the bas- 
ket, the young man went in, I follow- 
ing close at his heels. Such a won- 
derful house it seemed to me, with 
its big rooms, softly carpeted floors, 
pretty furniture and flowers every- 
where. It was so different from the 
houses in Japan, and so much more 
beautiful. 

As we entered the drawing-room, a 
lady who was drinking 'tea near the 
fire looked up with a smile of greet- 
ing, and asked, "Well, what did you 
find, Ned?" 

"Not much for you, Mother," an- 
swered the young man, pointing at 
me ; "but the little beggar looked so 
wretched and half starved that I 
bought him simply to put him out of 
his misery." 

I did not know what he meant, but I heard the 
word "beg," so I sat up on my hind legs at once 
to show them that I had been well brought up. 
How they both laughed, while the lady, leaning 
down, patted my head, dirty as I was, and said 
gently, "Poor little dog, he has good manners, but 
he looks as though he had been hardly used; let 
us give him a little happiness." 

That was the beginning of a new life for me, 
and no dog has ever had a happier one. With 
what care I was washed and brushed, until once 
Vol. XL.-77. 



more my coat looked black and glossy. I was 
well fed, and I only heard words of kindness. 
From the moment I saw my mistress I loved her, 
and my master and I are the best of friends. 

It was my master who found out my real name. 
He used to repeat Japanese names to me one 
after the other, for Jack had told Mr. Ned that 
he had brought me from Japan. One day my 
master said, "Togo." Of course I at once wagged 
my tail, and, sitting up on my hind legs, I barked 
as hard as I could ; and from that time I was 
called Togo. 

I wish I could describe the beautiful Hall built 
on a high hill overlooking the broad ocean. There 
are great woods with shady paths, where I often 
go to walk with my master. There I find birds 
and squirrels to chase, mysterious holes to inves- 




TOGO AND MAJOR AT PLAY IN THE PADDOCK. 

tigate, and, occasionally, I see a rabbit in the 
distance ; but I am never able to catch one. 

Then there is the big garden full of lovely, 
sweet-smelling flowers, its high stone walls cov- 
ered with ivy and climbing roses. There is an old 
marble fountain, where the water makes a pleas- 
ant trickling sound, and a pond where the gold- 
fish play among the lilies. The only thing which 
reminds me of Japan is an old stone lantern near 
the driveway. 

Across the front of the Hall runs a broad green 



610 



LITTLE DOG TOGO 



terrace, the entrance to which is guarded by two 
fierce marble lions. There, on the stone wall, I 
love to lie in the warm sunshine, and look over 
the tree-tops to the sea. 

In the stable, I at once made a friend of Major, 
the Shetland pony, who draws my mistress's gar- 
den carriage. When I play with him in the pad- 
dock, pretending to bite his heels, his legs fly out 
behind as though he wanted to kick my head off, 
but he knows that I will keep out of harm's way, 
and it is only in sport. When I first came to the 
Hall, Briar was the only dog there. He is a 
sheep-dog, and is not allowed in the house, but he 
is the policeman who sleeps on the door-step at 
night and guards us from harm. I, too, have 
learned to watch the house, and no stranger can 
come in by day or night without my knowing it. 
If they are friends of my master and mistress, I 
welcome them with pleasure, but otherwise I 
bark, although I never snap or bite. 

One summer my master and mistress went to 
Europe, and when they came home they brought 
Quonny and Wah (whom they call "Pretty") to 
be companions for me. They were little Peking- 
ese spaniels, and although the Japanese do not 
care for the Chinese, I liked my new friends at 
once, and I have never been jealous of them. 
They are smaller than I am, so I take great care 
of them ; and when strange dogs come to the Hall, 
I stand in front of my tiny friends and growl. I 
see that they are fed first, while I sit up on my 
hind legs and wait until they have finished ; and 
if they prefer my food to their own, they are 
quite welcome to it. 

Not long after she came to the Hall to live, 



Pretty had two dear little puppies, Tsin-Erh and 
Wee-Wah. My mistress thinks that Tsin-Erh is 
the most beautiful dog in America, and I agree 
with her, even though he is Chinese. His tawny 
coat is so soft and silky, and his eyes are so large 
and brown. When the mistress goes in to dinner, 
Tsin-Erh loves to sit on the train of her dress, 
so that he has a ride as she walks along. 

Since then Pretty has had two more cunning 
puppies, and last summer Mr. Ned brought his 
mother two little Pekingese dogs from London, 
Ah-Chu and Yehonala. We are very happy to- 
gether, and no quarreling is allowed, but such a 
family is a great responsibility for me, so I hope 
that it will not grow any larger. 

When my mistress drives about the place in her 
low pony carriage with Major, all the dogs go, 
too, and what a good time we have racing and 
barking around her, Major being quite as lively 
as any of us. I don't think he always behaves 
very well, and I have begged him to be careful, 
but he only tosses his head and keeps on running 
away whenever he feels like it. 

I have not forgotten my little Japanese mis- 
tress, O Sumiri San, but I am an American dog 
now, and could not possibly go back to Japan. 
Sometimes I dream that once more I am doing 
my tricks with Mekkachi San, or on board the 
sailing-ship in the big storm. Then I wake up 
with a shudder to find that it is not true, and, 
snuggling down more comfortably on my soft 
cushion, I go to sleep again, knowing that all the 
misery of my past life has vanished, and that now 
my days are filled with happiness. 





DAVID AND GOLIATH."— DRAWN BY ARTHUR T. MERRICK. 

6n 



THE BASE-BALL GUESSING MATCH 



BY C. H. CLAUDY 

Author of " The Battle of Base-Ball," " Playing the Game," etc. 



Spring has come; base-ball is here; and no 
grown-up fan, in his most rabid moments, is hap- 
pier than the small boy with his bat and ball, and 
his freedom from winter's chains at last — free- 
dom to pitch, to bat, to run, to catch— yes, free- 
dom even to strike out ! Surely it is better to 




CV 




WALTER JOHNSON, THE GREAT PITCHER OF THE 
WASHINGTON CLUB, AMERICAN LEAGUE. 

strike out with the bases full than not to play at 
all ! 

And so begins again, in Major League and 
Minor, in open field and in sand lot, in "fandom" 
and in boyville, the eternal, never-ending struggle 
between pitcher and batter, the never-to-be-fin- 
ished "guessing match" between the wit of the 
one and the perception of the other, the skill of 
hand and arm to pitch against the skill of arm 
The illustrations printed with this article are from copyrighte 

612 



and hand to bring the bat against the ball, and 
send out a good, clean base-hit ! 

For a guessing match it has become, since the 
eyes and hands of batters have been so highly 
trained to meet the prowess of the pitchers. The 
best of batsmen strike out now and then, even 
against an unknown pitcher ; the finest and most 
skilful of pitchers are occasionally "found" by 
men not regarded as having any standing as bat- 
ters. Why? Because the one outguessed the 
other. 

"But," you say, "where does the guessing come 
in ? A pitcher pitches a curve. The batter swings 
at it and misses it. The pitcher throws a spit 
ball, and the batter, striking at it, misses the 
ball by six inches. Then the pitcher throws a 
fast one over the edge of the plate, and again the 
batter hits at it and misses. He strikes out be- 
cause the pitcher has kept the ball coming at such 
curves and angles that he can't hit it. But I don't 
see where the guessing match comes in !" 

Of course you don't; and in such a case there 
is n't any guessing match. It is a plain case of 
skill in flinging the ball as compared with lack 
of skill in hitting curves and shoots. 

But suppose we have Ty Cobb at the plate, and 
Joe Wood or Walter Johnson on the pitcher's 
mound. Let us suppose there are two men on 
bases, two out, and Detroit is a run behind, and 
that it is the ninth inning ! Suppose Joe Wood 
or Walter Johnson has struck out two men that 
inning. Can't you imagine Cobb, — a man of brain 
as well as brawn, — standing there swinging his 
bat and trying to decide what Johnson or Wood 
will "offer" him first? 

"Let 's see," we can imagine him saying. "He 
struck out Bush and Crawford. He got the start 
of both of them, right off. They did n't hit at the 
first one. He 's been putting that one over, de- 
pending on his speed. I '11 take a whack at it, 
anyhow." 

Meanwhile, Wood or Johnson has a wholesome 
respect for the lithe figure standing there ready. 
The pitcher knows that the game is to be won 
or lost, right there. So he does some thinking, 
too. 

"I got a strike on Crawford and Bush with my 
first pitch. They did n't hit at the first one. But 
this fellow has an eye like a hawk. I '11 slip him 
one over, but high." 
d photographs by The Pictorial News Co., New York City. 



THE BASE-BALL GUESSING MATCH 



613 



The pitcher knows that Cobb won't hit at a 
wide ball. But he hopes to tease him into hitting 
at what looks like a good one — that is, one over 
the plate — and so, to get a weak result because 
the ball will be too high for him to hit it hard. 
Now if Cobb follows out his intention and hits at 
the first ball, he will either bat out a weak "roller" 
easily handled, or miss the ball and have it called 
a strike, although too high, because he hit at it. 

But perhaps Cobb, seeing the pitcher hesitate, 
thinks better of his first judgment. 

"No," he says to himself. "If he was going to 
do as he has been doing, and put that first one 
over, he would n't think about it so long. I '11 
take it !" 

And mayhap he grins impishly at the umpire's 
"Ball one !" as he shrewdly lets the ball go by. 

Whenever you see a pitcher strike out a batter 
who does n't swing at the ball, you can know 
either that the pitcher is outguessing the batter — 
serving him "strikes" when the batter expects 
"balls"— or that the batter has been instructed to 
"Wait all you can," in order to tire the pitcher. 
Of course, if he takes enough time, and gets the 
pitcher to throw three balls and two strikes, he 
may still be fooled on the last ball, and strike out ; 
but in that case the real fault will lie in the 
orders given him beforehand. When you see a 
man swing sturdily at the ball and miss it, he is 
either outguessed by the pitcher, and is swinging 
at balls he can't reach, or else the pitcher is fool- 
ing, not his mind, but his eye— is throwing per- 
fectly good strikes which, nevertheless, curve or 
"jump" so that the batter is powerless to "connect 
with them." 

It is no very uncommon feat for Walter John- 
son, generally admitted to have more "speed" on 
his fast ball than any pitcher the game has ever 
produced, not even excepting Amos Rusie, to 
strike out three men with nine pitched balls. This 
is no case of outguessing— it is simply a matter of 
hurling nine balls over the plate so fast that the 
batter could n't judge where they were as they 
whizzed by him. But neither is it a phenomenal 
feat for Mathewson, generally admitted to be a 
pitcher without a peer in his "head-work" (as 
well as a marvel with his arm) , to strike out three 
men who may not even move their bats from their 
shoulders. He does this by an uncanny ability to 
outguess the other fellow, and make him think he 
is going to do one thing, when what he does is 
entirely different. 

Instances of cases in which fine pitchers have 
outguessed fine batters are without number in 
base-ball history — and so are tales of fine batters 
who have outmanceuvered fine pitchers. Perhaps 
base-ball will never furnish a better illustration 



of this sort than the first game of the last World's 
Series, in which young "Smoky Joe" Wood faced 
the winning or the losing of his game in the last 
inning, and ivhcn the whole game hinged on one 
pitched ball! 

Wood, during the first part of the game, used a 
curve ball, mixed in with some of that blinding 
speed which has made him famous. The "Giants" 
did n't know whether they were going to get a 
curve or a fast one. They played the waiting 





TY COBB, THE FAMOUS BATSMAN OF THE DETROIT 
CLUB, AMERICAN LEAGUE. 

game, crowding the plate and hoping for a base 
on balls ; perhaps even hoping to get hit, though 
it was noticeable that there was some clever dodg- 
ing when this seemed imminent. Even to get on 
first base, no one really "hankers" to get hit with 
a ball such as Wood hurls ! Once when Fletcher 
struck out, he dodged a ball which turned itself 
into a strike by the wideness of its curve, which 
shows it was very deceptive. But during the 
latter part of the game, as the light failed and his 



614 



THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME 



[May, 




'SMOKY JOE" WOOD, OF THE BOSTON "KED SOX, 
AMERICAN LEAGUE. 





DAHLEN, OF THE BROOKLYN CLUB. 



arm tired, Wood began to use more and more 
speed and less and less curves. And the Giants, 
tired of waiting for bases on balls from a pitcher 
who never gave them, made their famous shift of 
attack, and "found" Joe Wood's speed for some 
crashing hits. And when the smoke was over, 
there was one man out, a man on second, and one 
on third base, the score 4 to 3 in favor of Boston, 
Fletcher at bat, Crandall, a heavy hitter, "next," 
and a crisis facing the young pitcher. 

For a fly to the outfield would tie the score, a 
base-hit would win the game ! 

Wood took plenty of time. Running through 
his mind must have been this thought, 

"I must n't let him hit a fly; and — he must n't 
make a hit." 

McGraw, from the third-base coacher's box, 
Mathewson, from that at first, were yelling at 
him. Forty thousand fans were yelling at him. 
Fifty players were yelling at him. And he heard 
them not. For the third time that afternoon he 
struck out Fletcher, and a groan went up from 
the Giant followers, a cheer from the "Red Sox" 
rooters. They called it his "chilled steel nerve," 
next day, in the newspapers. 

But the real exhibition came the next minute. 
For Fletcher had been able to do nothing with 
Wood all day, and this strike out was no great 
surprise. But here was Crandall, wide-shouldered 
and a good man in a pinch, and Wood, never hav- 
ing pitched to him before, could not down him by 
"head-work" as he might have vanquished one 
with whose batting he was familiar. 

Again Wood took plenty of time. Again that 
thought ran through his mind, shortened this 
time to, 

"He must n't make a hit. He must n't make 
a hit." 

And underneath that thought was this, 

"What is he looking for? What does he expect 
me to pitch ?" 

And in Crandall's mind the anxious question, 

"Curve or speed — speed or curve — which?" 

At last Wood wound up and pitched. He threw 
a curve. Strike one. He threw a ball. Ball one. 
He threw another ball. Ball two. He threw 
another curve — but Crandall could n't reach it. 
Strike two. Hoping to tease Crandall into hit- 
ting at a bad one, he threw a wide one, and the 
count stood three balls and two strikes ! 

Think of it ! those of you boys who love heroic 
deeds on the diamond. Suppose you were the 
young pitcher in your first World's Series game ; 
a veteran team of players opposing you, led by 
the greatest base-ball general of the country, and 
forty thousand spectators yelling madly ! And 
the game is yours as it stands; you have come 



I9'3] 



THE BASE-BALL GUESSING MATCH 



615 



from behind and won it ; and now, in the last half 
of the last inning, with tzvo men out, and only one 
more strike to pitch, you face this proposition- 
either strike this man out, take a chance of a 
"roller" or a "fly" retiring him— or defeat! 

It required cool nerves to live up to that mo- 
ment, and all the Giants gave him credit for it 
afterward. In those few moments, he had to de- 
cide what he should do— whether to pitch a curve 
ball, or a speed ball, or just a "ball" which might 
tempt Crandall to strike. But Crandall had n't 
"tempted" worth a cent. And a base on balls 
meant— well, it would mean that it was all to be 
gone through again with the next batter and with 
the chances against the pitcher. No, the ball had 
to cut the plate. Speed, then, or a curve? Which 
would Crandall expect? Probably the speed. He 
knew that Wood dare not take chances with the 
curve. 

"Very well, then," thought Wood, "if speed 
it must be, speed it shall be. But it won't be the 
speed Crandall has been looking at !" 

Every good pitcher keeps a little, just a little, 
strength in reserve ; every master of the art of 
pitching has just a little more to "show" in the 
crucial moment than he has shown before. And 
so Wood outguessed Crandall. For he let loose 
a ball which those who saw it say traveled faster 
than any ball thrown that day, or on any other 
day (some allowance must be made for enthu- 
siasm!), and when Crandall swung to meet the 
speed he knew he was to see, behold the ball was 
already in Cady's mit, the people were pouring 
on the field, pandemonium had broken loose, and 
Wood, limp as a wet rag and as happy as a king, 
was being hauled about the field by his delighted 
team-mates. 

For Wood had outguessed Crandall, and sent 
in a ball different, because faster, than Crandall 
expected, and so had Won his game. It was in- 
deed "chilled steel nerve," but it was something 
more, even something more than strength of arm 
and cunning of the pitcher's art. It was strategy 
— strategy which had kept back a little, just a 
little, all afternoon to call on for that supreme 
moment, and fool the batter by "showing him 
something" he had n't seen before and did n't 
expect. 

But however interesting such tales may be, you 
lads who play will, I know, be impatient to get 
down to your own practice of this "outguessing" 
art. 

"How shall I outguess Jimmy and his curve ?" 
you ask yourself, impatiently swinging your bat, 
and Jimmy, I dare say, is right around the corner 
coming toward us with his question, "How am I 
going to outguess Tommy Jones and his big bat?" 




■ -ijipv' 



OTIS CRANDALL,, OF THE "NEW YORK GIANTS, 
NATIONAL LEAGUE. 




LEIFIELD, OF THE PITTSBURGH CLUB. 



616 



THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME 



[May, 



To the lad who pitches, let it be said that it is 
brain as much as brawn which strikes out batters. 
The Major League teams are full of pitchers, no 
longer in their muscular prime, in whom skill, 
cunning, and knowledge have made up for the 
efficiency of pace and curve of which Time has 
robbed them. You, too, are in their class, for 
Time has not yet given you all that he will in 
strength and muscle ; so, up against a fine batter, 
it is cunning which you must employ. 

First, then, study your batter and learn what 
balls he hits most easily, and what he hits with 
the most difficulty. Normally, you will try to give 
him only those balls at which he hits with least 
effect. But not always: sometimes the unex- 
pected ball, exactly where he likes it best, is as 
effective in its utter surprise as one where he 
likes it least. 

An instance of the kind occurred in a game 
between Pittsburgh, in the year when they won 
the championship, and Boston. Leifield was pitch- 
ing for Pittsburgh. Leifield, a fine pitcher, had 
the reputation of never putting the ball over the 
plate when he could avoid it, and of "using his 
head." 

The game was going against Pittsburgh. They 
were still slightly in the lead, but the bases were 
crowded and a hit meant certain defeat, when 
Dahlen came to the bat. And any pitcher will 
tell you of a dozen men he would rather see at bat 
"in a pinch" than Dahlen. Now Dahlen, like all 
other players, had a favorite ball at which he 
always hit. It happened to be a waist-high ball, 
not too far away from him — a ball most batters 
like. 

Leifield, of course, knew this. And he figured 
on sending his first pitched ball somewhere else. 
But for some reason he lost control, and the ball 
went waist high and dead across the plate. Dah- 
len was surprised. He had n't expected it. He 
struck at the ball, but too late — just that instant 
of surprise at getting what he really wanted, 
when he did n't expect it, had made him hit too 
late. 

Clarke, manager for Pittsburgh, cautioned Lei- 
field for what he had done. 

"You were lucky," he said. "Don't let him 
have it in 'the groove' again." 

But Leifield did some swift thinking. Why not 
try it again, doing the second time on purpose 
what had been done by accident the first time ? 
Figuring that Dahlen would certainly expect, this 
time, a high ball or one outside, Leifield deliber- 
ately went against orders and pitched a per- 
fect strike, just where Dahlen liked it. Dahlen, 
again surprised out of his "pose," struck at the 
ball — but again too late ! 



Clarke was angry, and what he thought of Lei- 
field may be imagined. With every game count- 
ing and one hit meaning a lost game, a heavy hit- 
ter up and your pitcher apparently gone crazy and 
feeding that heavy hitter just what he likes best, 
no wonder Clarke was angry ! But Leifield just 
nodded, and Clarke retired, satisfied. Leifield for 
the third time gave Dahlen the ball he liked best 
and usually hit most easily, and for the third 
time Dahlen was surprised out of balance and 
struck out ! It was a clean case of nervy "out- 
guessing." 

The pitcher who has control of the ball can 
outguess the batter much more easily than can 
one who is "wild." Washington, which made 
such a spectacular run of seventeen straight 
games won in 1912, carried on its muster-roll, a 
short time before, a pitcher familiarly called 
"Doc" Reisling. He had almost finished his ca- 
reer as a pitcher. Players said, in their base-ball 
slang, "He has n't anything but his glove," mean- 
ing that he had little strength left, and no speed. 
But they forgot his head; it was Reisling's wits 
which kept him in the game when his arm was 
"gone"— his head-work and splendid control. He 
once struck out Cobb, with a man on second and 
third, by a very simple piece of strategy. He 
threw three wide balls, which Cobb made no 
attempt to hit. Cobb, of course, counted upon 
getting his base on balls, after seeing three wide 
ones thrown obviously on purpose. Then Reisling 
cut loose a straight one, directly over the plate, 
and Cobb, surprised, made no movement to hit at 
it. The next was a curve, and it just scraped 
over the corner, and Cobb pounded his bat in 
annoyance. Three balls and two strikes ! But 
Reisling, if his arm was "gone," could occasion- 
ally call on it for more than he had been show- 
ing, and he called on it now — not for speed, how- 
ever, but for a twisting spitter— and, behold ! 
Cobb struck out ! Either the fourth or fifth balls 
thrown would have been easy for Cobb, had he 
expected them. He was outguessed, outgeneraled. 
They don't do it often with men who "hit .400" ; 
but they do— sometimes ! 

So, for you who pitch, the plan on which you 
pitch should be this : study the batter and find his 
weakness. Play to his weakness when you can. 
When conditions change, when men are on the 
bases, and a hit may win the game — try the sur- 
prise. Never pitch twice the same way to the 
same man — that is, if you put the first ball over 
and the next two wide and the fourth over, the 
first time that man comes up, don't make them 
come in the same order the second time he comes 
up. But then, if you find he has outguessed you, 
and hits at the second instead of the first ball, 



19*3-] 



THE BASE-BALL GUESSING MATCH 



617 



switch to something different the third time up. 
It is much like the game of matching pennies, in 
which A puts down a head and B a tail. A thinks, 
"This time I will change it from head to tail." 
But B thinks, "I won't change this time, because 
I think A will change." Meanwhile A is think- 
ing, "Maybe B will not change because he figures 
I will change— I won't change, after all !" Then 
B thinks again, and says to himself, "Maybe A is 
thinking I won't change and will change himself 
—I believe I will change !" and so on. The fel- 
low who best follows the other's ideas wins out 
in the end. The pitcher who best follows the 
working of the batter's mind can best outguess 
him. 

But, one caution : don't depend altogether on 
plain outguessing the batter. The surprise of 
sending a curve when a "ball" is expected, and a 
"ball" when a strike is expected, will work some- 
times. But no pitcher who did all his pitching 
with his head could last long. Use your head, by 
all means, but don't forget to use your arm too. 
A strike gained from a healthy swing at an un- 
expected curve which eludes the bat by its wide 
"hook," is just as good a strike as one made with 
the bat held on the shoulder, and the ball, ex- 
pected to go wide, slipping over the plate ! 

To the batter, trying to outguess the pitcher, 
the first word, too, must be one of caution. Don't 
do too much guessing; and particularly against a 
pitcher whose curve is wide or whose straight 
ball is fast and heavy. The reason is obvious. If 
you expect a curve away from you and step in to 
get it, and you have guessed wrong and it is a 
straight ball, you may have to take your chance 
with a quick dodge or get hit. Many a time when 
a Major League pitcher hits a man at bat, it is 
not because the pitch was wild, but because the 
batter, over-eager and guessing wrong, got in the 
way. There have been cases in the Major 
Leagues where bad accidents have happened from 
this matter of batters guessing wrong. In one 
game in Cincinnati, a few years ago, two men 
were badly hurt in the same game in this way. 
McGann tried to outguess Coakley's pitching, 
and, thinking he would meet a curve, stepped into 
a fast one and sustained a broken wrist. Bres- 
nahan, now of the Chicago "Cubs," stepped up 
for a straight ball, and a curve hit him in the head 
and knocked him senseless. "Plate crowders," 
players who get just as close to the plate as they 
can, take a risk always; still greater chances are 
occasionally taken by those who count too much 
upon outguessing the pitcher. 

Yet, of course, there are times when outguess- 
ing—or at least the trial of it— is not only wise, 
but necessary. One cannot play the "hit-and-run" 
Vol. XL.— 78. 



without some one doing the guessing. For it is 
necessary that the runner on first shall know 
which ball the batter will try to hit, in order that 
he may get his flying start with the pitcher's 
wind-up. For this reason, the hit-and-run is al- 
most invariably signaled by the batter to the run- 
ner on first. The batter, in other words, guesses 
which ball he will be able to hit, signals that he 
will try to hit it, and then makes the attempt, the 
runner getting off to a flying start. The most 
famous exponents of the hit-and-run play have 
been men who are clever at this guessing. "Wee 
Willie" Keeler, the incomparable Hal Chase, little 
"Kid" Foster, were and are all men who succeed 
at the hit-and-run, not because they have great 
batting averages, but because they can "call the 
turn" and then "place the ball." 

Perhaps in no one position does the batter have 
a better chance to outguess the pitcher than in the 
matter of deciding whether or not to hit at the 
first ball pitched. Every pitcher is anxious to 
"get an edge on the batter," and every batter is 
anxious to "get the pitcher in the hole." The 
pitcher has the "edge" on the batter if he gets a 
strike over before a ball is called ; the batter gets 
the pitcher in the hole if he has "balls" to work 
on instead of strikes. In other words, if the 
pitcher has less margin for lack of control or for 
experimenting, he is more apt to pitch a perfect 
strike to hit at or give a base on balls; if the 
batter has two strikes called on him, there is the 
more chance of his over-anxiety making him 
strike at a "ball," thus striking out or offering an 
easy chance. 

That the "guessing match" may be effective on 
the batter's part even against a master at pitching 
was shown in the fifth game of the last World's 
Series— when Mathewson lost a heartbreaking 
game after a magnificent exhibition of pitching. 
In this game, the man the fans lovingly refer to 
as "the Old Master" allowed but five hits. Be- 
dient, for the Red Sox, allowed but four. 

But the five hits were enough — indeed, it was 
two hits and a forgivable error which lost the 
game— the other three hits did not figure in the 
score. It was in the third inning. The Bostons 
had noted that Matty, perhaps tired from his 
exertions in a previous game and without suffi- 
cient time to rest, was trying to "slip the first one 
over." Hooper had started the hitting by a single 
to center on the first ball pitched; Speaker had 
let a strike slip by him— the first ball pitched. 
This gave them their cue. In the third inning, 
Hooper hit the first ball pitched for a triple ; 
Yerkes hit the first ball pitched for another triple ! 
One run. Then came Speaker, and he also hit the 
first ball pitched for what was apparently an easy 



618 



THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME 



[May, 



chance to Larry Doyle. But the ball bounded 
badly, slipped between his legs, and — two runs ! 

Thereafter, there were no more first balls ham- 
mered to the far corner of the lot, and the Old 
Master pitched one of the most wonderful games 
of his career. It was not his fault that the 
Giants did not win ; it was Bedient's, for he held 
the New Yorks from getting more than one run. 
It is nothing that his foes outguessed Matty for 
an inning — it is the luck of the game ! 

Watch the opposing pitcher carefully— watch 
him as if with a telescope and a microscope com- 
bined. Never, on the bench or while waiting your 
turn at bat, take your eyes off of him. See if you 
can discover from any movement he makes what 
he is going to do. If he has any peculiarities 
whatever— if he wiggles his foot, or scratches his 
head, or looks over his shoulder — note what ball 
he pitches next, whether a curve, or a fast ball, 
or what. The "telegraph" is a most potent aid to 
the batter who would "outguess" the pitcher, and 
in lads it is more apt to work than among the Big 



League pitchers, who have been trained out of 
this habit of "telegraphing" their intentions. 
Particularly is this true of the lad who tries to 
pitch a slow ball. Any one knows that a slow 
ball is the easiest thing in the world to hit— if 
only you know it is coming. The slow ball fools 
the Major Leaguer only because he thinks it is 
fast and hits at it before it arrives. If he can 
see from the pitcher's motion that it is slow — 
well, "good night!" as the players say — the ball 
will land on the far side of the fence. Lads all 
too often try to throw a slow ball merely by let- 
ting up in the motion of their arm as they use it 
for their swift ball ; the result is the batter can 
plainly see it is a slow ball coming toward him, 
and he hits it with ease. 

And so the tale might run on to pages and 
pages ; but enough has been said to show that 
pitching is not all in the arm, nor batting all in 
the eye. A part — and a good part— of both lies 
in that without which no player of any game ever 
a;ets to be a star— brains! 




Suddenly, an otter popped up from below the 
surface of the water with a yellow stone balanced 
neatly on his brown, little head. I stopped by his 
inclosure and stared as he swam about with his 
mates. They were all exactly alike, and neither 



he nor they seemed to notice anything unusual. 
He dived, frisked, and played beneath the water, 
then scrambled out on a flat rock, threw off the 
stone, which he gathered between his front paws, 
and stretched out to rest. 



I9'3-1 



THE PLAYFUL OTTER 



619 



I was sketching in the Washington Zoo, but 
this was my first visit to the otter pond, and I 
was so delighted with this extraordinary per- 
formance, that I went many times thereafter to 



Sometimes I could see him under the water 
carrying the stone pressed against his breast with 




while away a pleasant half-hour in watching the 
otter play with his yellow stone. 

Of course everybody at all interested in na- 
tural history knows that otters are extremely 
"playful and intelligent. They make slides for 
themselves on a muddy bank, or on one of sloping 
snow or ice, and appear to enjoy the game as 
much as if they were a lot of 
boys ; but this individual trick 
lied me with astonishment, 
and I never tired of watch- 
ing with what truly won- 
derful skill he did it. 
Indeed, the stone 
seemed a toy for 
lim, whether 
the water 
gallop- 

ing over the 
uneven, grassy 
slopes. Except 
when in their re- 
tiring cage, the 
ters do not long remain 
still, so, in a few mo- 
ments, the little fellow stretched himself, looked 
about to see what the others were doing, deftly 
flipped the stone into the water with his paw, div- 
ing in at the same time, to appear a moment later 
with it in just the same spot on his head as when 
he had first arrested my attention. 





his little, black hand, and then when he came on 
shore, he ran about on three legs, holding the 
stone close to his body with the fourth. He did 
not confine himself to the yellow stone, for I saw 




him carrying many others, but that seemed to be 
his favorite. It may be that it balanced easily, or 
he may have found that, because of its light 
color, he could see it better in deep water. I 
wondered very much 
how he placed it on 
his head, and was 
some time in finding 
out. When he threw 
it into deep water, 
he dived quickly 
under it, and, with 
wonderful judgment, 
let it settle just 
where he wanted it. 
When the water was 
too shallow for div- 
ing, he worked his flat head under it, then tossed 
it upward, and, as it slowly sank, let it nestle 
softly down on his head, and off he went to begin 
his game of solitaire all over again. 






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A "THREE-RING" CIRCUS IN GRASSVILLE. 
620 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



(A sequel to " The Lucky Sixpettce") 

BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE 



Chapter XIII 

A COMPANY OF FINE GENTLEMEN 

It would be far from the truth to assert that I felt 
no alarm on that lonely sand-beach, the target for 
a score of unfriendly eyes. Nay, I was much 
frightened, and it seemed a long time that we re- 
mained thus, in a silence that was broken only by 
the harsh inbreathing of the man with the light. 
Then some one spoke. 

"Bash me !" he cried, " 't is naught but a girl !" 

At this they crowded in close to us, talking and 
making game of the man who held the lanthorn, 
whom, because he was dressed in a sort of a uni- 
form, I judged to be the leader of the party. 

" 'T is a fine captain of the preventive-men you 
are, Master Hodge !" cried one. "To take us out 
of our beds to net— not smugglers — but a lass !" 

"Have done !" shouted Hodge, plainly put out 
by this badgering. 

"Nay, 't is fair shiverin' I am with fright lest 
the lass turns on us," a third put in, chattering his 
teeth in mock alarm. 

" 'T is a gallant man, this Hodge !" exclaimed a 
fourth. " 'Come on,' says he in a whisper, ' 't is 
the smugglin' boys I 've warnin' of.' " 

"And have we not the goods ?" retorted Hodge. 
"What want ye? Do the boxes no speak for 
themselves?" 

"Aye, boxes !" cried three or four together, de- 
risively. 

"But I 'm no smuggler," I objected, thinking it 
high time to put an end to this foolishness. 

"Are ye no?" said Hodge. "Then what do ye 
here ?" 

"Belike she 's here to gather strawberries," 
some one answered for me; and at that there 
was a great laugh, and I, too, could not help but 
smile. '* 

*' 'T will be on t' other side of the face ye '11 be 
laughin'," growled Hodge at me, growing angry 
under the banter. 

" 'T will be better an you keep a civil tongue in 
your head," warned one of the men, who so far 
had been silent; but Hodge paid scant heed to 
him. 

"What do ye here?" he repeated, addressing me 
threateningly. 

"I have just landed, and, knowing naught of 
the country, I shall thank you to tell me where I 
must go, and whom I can find to carry my boxes," 



I answered. I liked not the man's manner, and 
saw that the joking of his companions was apt to 
react upon me. Moreover, I wanted to find shel- 
ter for the night, and the means to go forward 
upon my journey. 

"Fear not for your boxes," Hodge answered; 
"such as you have given us a bad name on this 
coast, and we mean to put a stop to your smug- 
gling. The boxes will be carried right enough— 
and you, too, an you make a pother." 

My situation, albeit it was serious enough, had 
its amusing side, too. When I had left England, 
I had been taken as a spy by the British in Amer- 
ica. Now, after four years, I was returned, only 
to be halted as a smuggler ! Yet there was more 
than a little evidence to confirm Master Hodge's 
suspicions, and even I could not find it in my 
heart to blame him overmuch ; so I thought it 
best to explain my position at once, and so make 
all plain. 

"I am not a smuggler," I began, quietly. "My 
brother is Sir Horace Travers, of Frobisham, in 
Kent, and I am on my way to him from across the 
seas." 

But the greatness of my claim made the man 
skeptical. 

"Oh, aye, no doubt," he sneered. "Neverthe- 
less, you '11 come with me, my Lady Nobody of 
Nowhere, and tell your story to the squire." 

"I shall be glad to go," I agreed. 

Hodge was evidently nonplussed at my will- 
ingness to accompany him; but he shook his head 
stubbornly, as if he had made up his mind to go 
through with the business, come what might. 

The silent man, who had warned him before, 
spoke again. 

"She 's no smuggler, Bill," he said, putting a 
hand on the other's arm. 

Hodge shook him off roughly. 

"I '11 believe that when she tells me that she 
did n't come here by the Clary de Loon," he as- 
serted. "Am I to think she plumped down on 
the shingle out of the clouds?" 

The other shrugged his shoulders. 

"Then mind a bit of advice, lad," he cautioned. 
"Speak the maid fair. A smooth tongue costs 
naught, and may save you a rating. The gentry 
all stand together, and, smuggler or no, she 's 
gentry. You may be sure o' that." 

After which rather lengthy speech, he spoke 
no further, so long as he was with us. But his 



621 



622 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



[May, 



words seemed to have an effect upon Hodge, who 
scratched his head perplexedly. 

" 'T is true I 'm new at the game," he admit- 
ted, talking in an undertone; "but I 've made 
prisoners, and up to the squire they shall go, 
come what may." 

This decision pleased me, for I felt sure the 
squire would be a gentleman to whom I could ex- 
plain the situation, and who, I doubted not, would 
give me the information I sought as to the means 
of traveling into Kent. I was glad, therefore, to 
hear Hodge order the others to take up the boxes; 
and forthwith we started off. 

I gained little idea of the lay of the land as we 
stumbled up the beach, but we came upon a slight 
rise, and, a moment later, entered a broad road. 
Down this we went some two or three hundred 
yards, halting, at length, before the entrance to a 
fine park, as I judged from the size of the lodge, 
though I could see little but the bulk of it for the 
darkness. 

We were forced to awaken the keeper, and 
there was more parleying and laughter; but we 
were let in, and took our way up the long avenue 
toward lights that showed through the trees. 

"Hurry on!" Hodge urged; "I 've no mind to 
get the squire up after he 's abed." 

"No danger of that," some one answered him. 
"Squire 's not likely to be 'twixt sheets before 't is 
day, seein' he has company." 

But Hodge was for pushing forward, and, fi- 
nally, we came to the house which blazed with 
lights. 

My captor started for the servants' entrance, 
but I stopped him at once. 

"The front door is there, is it not?" I asked, 
indicating the large entrance before us. 

"Aye, but 't is for the gentry," he answered. 
"I dare not go that road." 

"You may do as you please," I returned sharply, 
"but I go no other," and, evading a hand he put 
out to stop me, I ran up the steps. 

Considering that I was his prisoner, Hodge was 
forced to follow, though he liked it not, and stood 
awkwardly, looking very sheepish as the door was 
opened by a tall footman who regarded him with 
supercilious surprise. 

"Nay, now, Rowlandson," Hodge began, but I 
cut him short and stepped forward with my chin 
in the air. 

"This man has seen fit to interfere with my 
maid-servant and myself, and I wish to see your 
master at once, that the matter may be made 
straight." 

The footman drew back in evident surprise, but 
his manner was entirely respectful. 

"I will speak to my master, madam," he said, 



throwing open the door of a little morning-room. 
"Will you be pleased to wait here," he added, and 
as I entered, with Clarinda after me, he stopped 
Hodge, who would have followed. 

" 'T is not for the likes of you," he said shortly. 

"But she 's my prisoner," insisted Hodge, who 
was a stubborn, as well as a stupid, man. "I must 
see that she does n't escape." 

"I have no intention of escaping," I assured 
him, composedly. 

"And you, Hodge, must come with me and tell 
your tale to the squire," said the footman. 

Hodge still refused to let me out of his sight. 
But at last, after much arguing, he took up his 
stand at the door of the drawing-room, opposite 
where I sat, so that he could talk to the squire 
and at the same time make sure of me. It was 
because of this that I overheard all that followed. 
Rowlandson, meanwhile, had crossed the rather 
narrow hall and opened the door. 

Instantly, there came the sound of many voices, 
all talking at the same time. The speakers were 
men, and from their tones I knew they were ex- 
cited and gay. 

Rowlandson stood at the door waiting for his 
master to notice him, but seemingly no one paid 
the slightest heed to the tall footman. 

Presently, there was a louder shouting than 
usual, and, in the pause that followed, one spoke 
whose voice I 'd heard before, but could not at 
the moment place. 

"Egad, what luck ! You 've thrown nicks twice, 
Cecil. Now, my commission is all I have left, but 
that I '11 keep !" he exclaimed. "I '11 back to the 
army in the Americas, for I know where there 's 
gold that will make Billy Bluebones's hoard look 
like small coin. That I 'm going after, and, once 
found, I will return and go a-courting Dame Haz- 
ard again." 

"You have a gay way of romancing since you 
saw the Americas, George," spoke up the languid 
voice. "This Bluebones treasure was prodigious 
enough ; but think you we believe the whole coast 
is strewn with pirate gold?" 

"Nay," said the voice I knew, " 't is not so easy 
come by, but I was on the track of it a year or 
two ago. When I came into my inheritance, I 
gave over looking. Now that I 'm ruined, I shall 
have after it again ; and this time I '11 not give up. 
I know where to lay my hand on information that 
will lead me to the gold, and when George Blun- 
dell makes up his mind in earnest, he usually gets 
what he goes after." 

I heard no more of the talk after that. Should 
I never be rid of this man? Was he to turn up 
in my path wherever I went? I had thought him 
still in America, and, lo ! here he was near me ! I 



I9I3-] 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



623 



could not suppress a slight shiver of apprehension, 
though I called myself a "silly," seeing no reason 
why he should wish to harm me. 

I was brought back to my surroundings by talk 
that concerned me. 

" 'T is Hodge from the village, sir," I heard 
Rowlandson saying. 

"Hodge at this hour of the night !" repeated the 
voice I had learned belonged to him they called 
Cecil. 

"Now know you not, Cecil," said the languid 
drawl, "that the honest working folk insist upon 
beginning their day as we end ours? Most like, 
good Hodge is but up a little earlier than cus- 
tomary." 

"A very unwholesome practice," laughed an- 
other. 

But Cecil, whom I guessed to be the squire, paid 
scant attention to these banterings. 

"Speak up, Hodge," he said sharply. "What 
brings you here?" 

" 'T is that I 've taken prisoners, Squire," said 
Hodge, "and know not what to do with them. You 
see, I 'm but lately 'pointed to be helper to the 
preventive-men, a-watchin' o' the smugglers." 

"Oh, 't is business," cried a disgusted voice. 
"Oons, but there 's naught brings sleep to my eyes 
so quickly." 

"They 're smugglers, an it please you, sir," 
Hodge went on ; "they say they 're not, o' course, 
but we 've been on the lookout for them this week 
past." 

"Parleyvoos, or our own men?" demanded the 
squire, in a businesslike tone. 

"Well, they 're not to say parleyvoos, nor not to 
say men neither, exactly," said Hodge, with some 
hesitation. 

"Zounds! This grows exciting!" said he with 
the drawl. "What strange beasts has the yokel 
captured?" 

"Nor not to say beasts neither," went on Hodge, 
unmoved, "seein' that one of 'em is a lady and 
t' other her black woman." 

"Now what have you to do with a lady, 
Hodge?" demanded the squire, rather sternly. 
"And why have you brought her here?" 

From his tone, Hodge thought he was being 
unjustly badgered, where he had looked for 
naught but praise. 

"I found her set down in the middle of the 
beach, sir, with a pile of boxes as high as your 
head. And, if she 's not a smuggler, what else is 
she? And how came she there? That 's what I 
want to know." 

Hodge had found his tongue and was ready to 
enlarge upon the theme, but the squire cut him 
short. 



"This is what comes of engaging a farmer for 
His Majesty's revenue. 'T is some stupid mis- 
take, most certainly!" he exclaimed. 

"Nay," the languid voice cut in. "Half the fine 
ladies in London smuggle an they get the chance, 
't is said. And I '11 own up. I myself never come 
into the country without wearing as many suits 
as I can carry." 

"But you don't have a pile of boxes set down 
on my beach in the dead of night," protested 
Cecil. 

"I never have yet," answered the other, "but 
the suggestion takes my fancy." 

" 'T is some enterprising milliner. She 's 
bringing out of France the fashions without 
which the ladies would have the megrims. Have 
her in, Cecil, and let her off with a reprimand, 
if 't is her first offense." And then I was called 
for. 

With Clarinda behind me, I entered, and stood 
for a moment at the threshold in silence, my face 
shaded by my calash and veil. I was glad to find 
that Blundell did not recognize me, for he sat 
half turned away from me, looking gloomily at 
the wall. He was not in the uniform that I had 
always seen him wear, and I confessed to myself 
that he looked better in his silken dress than in 
the scarlet regimentals of a British officer. 

"Which is the squire ?" I demanded, in the quiet 
that followed my appearance. 

"I am he," said a very young man, rising re- 
luctantly and giving me a short bow ; "at your 
service, madam." 

"I am just landed from the Americas," I be- 
gan, trying to speak calmly, "and I wish to know, 
if you please, where and how I can get a coach 
for Frobisham, in Kent." 

For a moment, there was silence, then one of 
the gentlemen spoke as if he had suddenly had a 
brilliant thought. 

"From the Americas? Faith, an it is tobacco 
you have in your boxes, I '11 engage to dispose of 
it all, once you 've made your peace with Mr. 
Sunderland here," and he indicated the squire 
with the stem of a long pipe he smoked. 

But I took no notice of him. 

"Is it tobacco you have brought?" asked the 
squire. "I warn you I am a magistrate, and 't is 
my duty to go to the bottom of this matter." 

"I have naught in my boxes but woman's gear," 
I answered quietly. Whereat there was a great 
nodding of heads among the men at the table. 

" 'T is a mantua-maker, after all," said one. 

"What I mean is that I have naught but my 
own clothes and belongings," I added hastily. 

' 'T is a monstrous pile of garments for one 
female," Hodge blurted out. 



624 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



[May, 



The gentlemen whispered among themselves, 
nudging each other and smiling, while the squire 
looked at me with a frown upon his face. I felt 
almost guilty, though I could not tell why. 

"It seems that I cannot make you understand," 
I began once more ; "but I am sister to Sir 
Horace Travers, in Kent, and—" 

"Oh, then you are an English lady?" he re- 
turned suavely, though 't was plain he did not 
believe a word of what I said. 

But of that I was not thinking at the moment, 
for the question hit straight upon my heart. 

"I English?" I cried, throwing back my calash 
and veil. "I English ? Indeed, no ! I am an 
American !" 

Chapter XIV 

POETRY AND PISTOLS 

Now, as I threw back my calash, every man in the 
room jumped to his feet as if he were a jack-in- 
the-box worked by springs, and Blundell was no 
slower than the rest. 

" 'Pon my soul !" he cried, " 't is Mistress Trav- 
ers !" and striding around the table, he was at 
my side in an instant, bowing low. 

"Gentlemen," he went on, addressing the room 
at large, "I gladly vouch for this lady, and will 
go somewhat further to insure her proper re- 
spect," and he motioned toward his sword. He 
was right gallant as he stood there, and I could 
scarce believe 't was the same Blundell who had 
acted so churlishly toward me in the past. 

"Nay, now, George, every man in the room 
would do as much, I warrant," said the squire, 
heartily. "Hodge !" he cried, turning to my cap- 
tor. "Hodge, get out ! You 're naught but a 
fool" ; and that was the last I saw of this zealous 
leader of the preventive-men. 

"We do not need you to teach us manners, 
George," drawled one of the gentlemen, lan- 
guidly. "That dolt, Hodge, did tangle our wits 
till we were all under a misapprehension." 

The formalities of the occasion were now per- 
formed by Blundell, who acted throughout most 
courteously, although I could not shake off my 
distrust of him. 

Indeed, all these reckless young fellows were 
gentlemen, and, the moment my identity was es- 
tablished, were ready to risk their lives in my 
defense, should the need arise. And yet, an in- 
stant before, they had not had the consideration 
to get up from their chairs, believing I was but 
a shopkeeper, and, therefore, beneath notice. 

It was soon decided that it was not practicable 
for me to start for Kent that night, but Mr. Sun- 
derland assured me he would have a post-chaise at 
my disposal in the morning. 



"Until then, Mistress Travers," he said, "I trust . 
you will put up with such poor hospitality as my 
house affords. My mother is an invalid, but the 
housekeeper is a decent old body, who will give 
you the attention you require. I have sent for 
her, and she will show you to your room, where 
I trust you will rest comfortably." 

Whereupon there shortly appeared a gray- 
haired, motherly woman, who took me under her 
protection, and, with a low curtsey to the gentle- 
men, I left them to resume their play. 

On the morrow, the squire, with Mr. Blundell 
and the housekeeper, were up to speed me on my 
journey; and, thanking them as best I could for 
their kindness, I started for Frobisham. 

My boxes were strapped behind, and while the 
driver cracked his whip and shouted joyfully 
to his horses, I settled myself as comfortably as 
might be for the long drive to The Towers, which 
was the name of Horrie's place. 

'T was a pleasant road through a pretty coun- 
try, but my prejudiced eyes could see little beauty 
anywhere. The trees were small, the roads 
rough and narrow, the streams could not com- 
pare with ours in America, and the very sky was 
not so blue. Clarinda, too, shared my feelings, 
for when I pointed out a fine, gently rolling land- 
scape, she sniffed and tossed her head. 

" 'Deed, Miss Bee, I 'clare it don't take my eye 
nohow. I 've been lookrn', hard as I can, an' I 
ain't see' a watermelon nor a sweet-p'tater no- 
where. 'T ain't nothin' like we-all 's used to." 

'T was easy to see that I was not the only 
homesick traveler in that chaise. 

We stopped at a little inn called the "Silver 
Tongs," and the landlord came out to the carriage 
and escorted me into his hostelry with a vast deal 
of ceremony. Serving-men stood about, bowing 
profoundly, and I was not a little puzzled and in 
some wise put out that so much pother should be 
made over me. I could not see why all this def- 
erence should be paid to a stranger in the coun- 
try, but it was made plain when one of the maids 
dropped a hint about "the squire's own chaise," 
and I found out that I was traveling in that gen- 
tleman's private vehicle, and that Mr. Sunder- 
land was a very rich young gentleman whose 
coach was well known in those parts, and who 
spent his money lavishly. 

It was a graceful compliment the squire had 
paid me, in that he had concealed the fact as well 
as he could, and I tried to maintain his credit at 
the hostelry, though I do not hold with a reckless 
throwing away of money. 

After about an hour's rest at the Silver Tongs, 
we started on again, refreshed and ready for the 
four or five hours' journey that lay before us. 



ICU3-] 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOI) 



625 



"Necessity a naughty jade is, 
Rut, willy-nilly, she obeyed is. 



As we went on mile after mile, I began to grow ning, "but I must request that you alight. 'T is 
drowsy, until, at length, my head dropped back most humbly I entreat Your Ladyship, yet- 
on the cushion, and I fell fast asleep. 

I came to my senses with a start, to find that 
the carriage was at a standstill, and there were 
sounds of parleying outside; but, 'ere I could "Ah ha! can'st cap that, mistress? 'T is well 

thought of, on the moment, 
and would not shame Master 
Robert himself, think you?" 
I looked at the man in 
astonishment, knowing not 
what it all meant, though the 
mask and the request alike 
pointed only too plainly to 
one solution. 

"Nay, look not so cast 
down," went on the gay voice 
beside the door. "There is 
naught to fear, so alight, an 
it please you, for, as Master 
Herrick might have written 
of me : 

"Thy zeal so speedy 
Has found a way, 
By peep o' day, 
To feed and clothe the need v. 

"That, I warrant ypu, has the 
true ring; but come, your 
hand, that I may safely set 
you on the ground." 

"What is the meaning of 
this, sir ?" I demanded, though 
I knew all the while that he 
was there to rob us, and 
could see no way to stop him. 
But, instead of answering, he 
held out his hand and bowed 
again, inviting me to alight. 
I stepped out of the car- 
riage but touched him not, at 
which he feigned deep de- 
jection. 

"See, Your Ladyship, how 

I am undone !" he cried. "I 

vowed to ply my trade with 

courtesy and good-will, and I 

find 't is no more acceptable 

than the coarse jests of Dick 

Turpin and his disciples." 

But I paid scant heed to his chattering, being 

then intent to discover where the driver was, 

and why he permitted a single man, unarmed so 

far as I could tell, for he wore not even a sword, 

to halt us. But the moment I was out of the 

carriage, the matter was plain enough. At our 

horses' heads, sitting on a great beast of his own, 




"WE CAME TO THE HOUSE WHICH BLAZED WITH LIGHTS 



look to discover what was toward, the door was 
opened violently, and there, bowing low, was a 
man dressed in the height of fashion. His face 
was masked by a black cloth with two holes, 
through which I could see the gleam of his eyes. 
"It desolates me beyond measure," he began, 
in a gentle voice that was both musical and win- 
Voi.. XL. — 79. 



626 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



was another masked man, holding two pistols in 
his hands, and looking threateningly at the driver, 
who cowered before him. This second high- 
wayman wore a huge wrap-rascal, his hat was 
pulled well down over his forehead, and the mask 
he had on covered his face so completely that 
not even his chin was visible. His demeanor was 
most threatening, but he said no word, leaving 
the weapons he held to speak for him. There 
was nothing to be gained from that sinister fig- 
ure, and I turned to the other, who still talked 
and quoted poetry in as light-hearted a way as 
though he were engaged in a joyful and honor- 
able business. Never had I heard or seen such a 
man, and I confess that, though I was annoyed, 
I felt no fear, and was, on the whole, rather 
amused. 

Clarinda had been turned out of the carriage 
also, and when she saw the forbidding figure at 
the head of the horses, she gave a shriek and cov- 
ered her face with her hands. 

Meanwhile, our poetic highwayman was pro- 
ceeding to search the carriage in a very business- 
like way, and, though his voice was sweet and his 
hands cared for like those of a gentle, he seemed 
thoroughly familiar with his trade. Now and 
then he sang a snatch of a song or a bit of ballad, 
while he tossed our belongings about in time to 
the music. At last he came to the purse given to 
me by Captain Timmons from Brother John, and 
I thought we would be let go, since he had found 
the money. 

He weighed it in his hand a moment or two, 
shook his head at it rather dolefully, and then 
jumped out of the carriage. 

"A find, captain !" he called to the man on 
horseback, tossing up the purse and catching it 
again so that it jingled loudly. "A find! Dost 
hear it sing?" 

To my great surprise, he who sat upon the 
horse shook his head violently, and, though he 
spoke not, made it plain that the money must not 
be taken. The other pleaded and even started to 
go his own route and keep the purse, but the 
horseman leveled a pistol at him menacingly, and 
with a laugh he threw the money back into the 
carriage. 

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, 
Old time is-s till a-flying. 

"And 't is the same with gold," he broke off. 
'"Zounds ! There 's little accounting for the 
whims of some. But to work, to work, and have 
done with a crazy business !" 

Of all their proceedings, this was the strang- 
est, for, having found what I believed they 
sought, one of them refused to take money. Here, 



then, was a new kind of highwayman, and I 
watched curiously to see what was to be done. 

I had not long to wait, for, after a moment's 
further look about the inside of the chaise, the 
gallant stepped back and began to take down my 
boxes. 

"Nay," I cried, going over to him, "there 's 
naught in them but woman's gear. Hardly what 
you will be seeking. All the money I have you 
have found, and I own no jewels." 

"Nay, mistress," he returned with a gay laugh, 
" 't is not my doing. An I had my way, I should 
have pouched the purse and wished you a merry 
journey and a safe one. But 't is not I who lead, 
and, being told to find this or that, I mean to find 
it, an it is in your possession." 

"What is it you seek?" I demanded. 

"An you knew that, you might guess how valu- 
able it is, whereas now you will not learn its 
worth until, happily, it is in the hands of the cap- 
tain ; or at least that is what he tells me, though 
I am as much in the dark as yourself. So, Your 
Ladyship, though it cuts me to the quick, I must 
on with the search. If, however, I might make 
a suggestion, I would ask that yon black girl help 
with the unpacking, and so keep the farthingales 
from off the road." 

I sent Clarinda to help with the rifling of my 
boxes, and waited while he went through them 
with a thoroughness that showed a determination 
to leave no nook or cranny unexplored. 

And all the while he recited bits of verse. 

"Ah ha ! Master Herrick was the man to make 
you a rhyme to fit the occasion and to have an 
eye to finery. 

"Whenas in silks my Julia goes, 

"You remember, doubtless?" he cried, holding up 
a silken frock of mine; then, picking out a blue 
cloak, 

"Thy azure robe I did behold 
As airy as the leaves of gold. 

"Faith, I know not what leaves of gold he talks 
of, but 't is a fitting rhyme." 

So he went on until, at last, holding aloft a 
pair of satin slippers, he voiced the daintiest of 
the verses, to my thinking. 

" Her pretty feet 
Like snails did creep' 
A little out ; and then, 
As if they played at bo-peep, 
Did soon draw in again. 

"All hail to Master Herrick !" he cried, at the 
top of his lungs, dragging out this and that as 
he searched. 







SEE, YOUR LADYSHIP! I VOWED TO PLY MY TRADE WITH COURTESY. 

627 



628 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



Meanwhile, he had separated all papers of 
whatever sort he found. Some parchment, some 
household receipts that I had brought from Dene- 
wood, thinking that they might interest Granny, a 
letter or two that I treasured, my little book of 
Maxims — in short, any scrap of writing that came 
under his hands. These he placed aside in a 
pile on the road, adding to it as he found things 
in the various boxes. What he could be search- 
ing for I had not the faintest idea. And so, per- 
force, I stood by idly while our cheerful highway- 
man emptied my boxes, Clarinda helping him. 

At last it was finished, and, taking the writ- 
ings, he went with them to the silent figure on 
horseback, who, giving up his pistols for the mo- 
ment, examined them intently. The book of 
Maxims he searched through page by page, and 
so, too, with the receipts and leaves of writing- 
paper, but he evidently found not what he sought. 

He shook his head,' arid whispered to his com- 
panion with much earnestness, though I could 
hear no sound of what he said. 

"Nay, captain, there is naught else there," an- 
swered the voluble one positively, and after some 
further parley between them, he came back with 
all the things he had gathered, and put them into 
the chaise. Then, seeing that Clarinda had al- 
ready closed the last boxes, he called the driver 
and together they strapped them in place. 

"May I escort you to your chariot?" he queried, 
addressing me with another wave of his hat and 
a most elaborate bow. "I offer ten thousand par- 
dons for the delay ; further I cannot go, seeing that 

( To be con 



we have taken naught; but the road is clear, and 
I may not, in conscience, keep you longer." 

I crossed to the chaise, called Clarinda, and, a 
moment later, he closed the door for us. A crack 
of the whip, a rumbling, slow turning of the 
wheels, and we were off again. 

As we moved forward, our gay-minded high- 
wayman took off his hat, debonair and courteous 
to the last, and I heard a farewell catch sung in 
his sweet, high-pitched voice, but remember not 
the words, for, as I leaned forward and looked 
out of the window a moment at the more menac- 
ing figure on the horse, a sudden gust of wind 
tore down the road and lifted his mask, showing, 
for a brief instant, the face of Blundell. 

With a cry, I sank back into my seat, at first too 
numbed by this discovery to even think ; then 
slowly my wits came back to me, and I started 
to puzzle out the mystery. What could the man 
have wanted? Little by little I pieced it out. 

I had heard him vow he knew where infor- 
mation of a great treasure lay, and that he meant 
to find it. I also remembered that he had had 
some dealings with old Schmuck, the Magus. 

I reached across the carriage and took up my 
little book of Maxims. Carefully I pressed the 
silken cover, and under it I could just feel the 
faint outline of the two pieces of silvered paper, 
hidden there so long ago. 

"He did n't find it," I said to myself, with a 
nod of triumph. "And he shall never have it !" I 
added, little knowing that the day would come 
when I should be only too glad to hand it to him. 

tinned. ) 



ROLLER-SKATING 

BY MELVILLE CHATER 

Sing a song of roller-skates ! Spring is in the land ! 

Peanuts in my pocket, and my hockey-stick in hand. 

Up the slope, and down the slope, and roundabout the park ! 

If Nurse would wait, I 'd roller-skate from breakfast-time till dark. 

Roller-skating, roller-skating all the afternoon. 
Time to go? Now, are you sure it 's five o'clock so soon? 
Wheel we home and kick off skates beside the hall-boy's seat. 
Dear, oh dear, I feel so queer— as though I 'd lost my feet ! 



Gentlemen drive motor-cars ; babies use a "p'ram" ; 
Trolleys are for working-folk where they squeeze and jam: 
Ladies ride on horseback up and down the Mall ; 
Boys of eight can roller-skate, and that 's the best of all ! 




'SING A SONG OF ROLLER-SKATES! SPRING IS IN THE LAND! 

629 




Tainted by D. A. C. Artz. 



In the Kijks Museum, Ainsterdan 



A VISIT TO GRANDMAMA 



BY FRANCES W. MARSHALL 



When we go out to Grandmama's, 

We play the livelong day, 
But, as the sun begins to set, 

We put our dolls away. 
For then we know that very soon 

The birds will go to bed, 
And Grandmama says that 's the time 

For children to be fed. 

She pours us out the milk so sweet, 
And cuts the bread so white ; 

She a-lways waits on Neltje first, 
And that is only right— 



For Neltje is the oldest one, 
As you of course can see, 

And should be waited on before 
A little girl like me. 

But when the supper 's over, 

And the daylight 's gone to sleep, 
We draw the chairs before the fire 

To watch the shadows creep, 
While Neltje sits by Grandmama 

As grown up as can be ; 
And then, because I 'm littlest, 

/ 'm cuddled on her knee. 



630 




From a photograph by Nancy Ford Cones. 

'WHAT HAVE YOU BROUGHT US FOR BREAKFAST?' 



631 




632 





Vol. XL.- 



"Oh-h, dear me !" wailed a tiny voice, quite as 
still and as small as ever the voice of conscience 
was, I am sure ; "oh, dear me ! I never shall be 
able to get it open. I never can push hard 
enough. My head aches, and my back aches, and 
all of me aches and aches so, now — whatever will 
become of me? What shall I do?" 

"How many warms and cools have passed?" 
asked a stiller, even smaller, voice, a weak, dis- 
couraged little voice that trailed faintly through 
the silence as a wreath of mist trails through the 
dawn. 

"Ten," cried the first, breathless, pushing val- 
iantly with bent head and shoulders rounded to 
the task; "ten warms and eleven cools — and it 
has n't given a bit !" 

"Nowhere?" 

"Nowhere !" 

At this there was a perfectly heartrending 
chorus of soft little sobs, and thin little moans, and 
weak little cries; and I don't know how many 
gave right up then and there, without another 
struggle. 

Of course that was not the thing to do, not as 
long as they could hold out another minute; but 
probably many of them really could not. And 
when one stops to consider what they had suf- 
fered, and how hopeless the struggle must surely 
have seemed by that time, I suppose it would be 
a cruel heart that could find it in itself to con- 
demn even those who might have been equal to 
further effort, if their courage had not failed. 
Only of course, as subsequent developments show, 
it was too bad they did not try to hold out, just a 
little bit longer. 

It was a dreadful place where they were, 
though, — as dark as a pocket, though that did not 
matter so much ; but dark and hot, and growing 
hotter now, for a "cool" was just past and a 
"warm" beginning. So presently it would palpitate 
with heat like a furnace. Each unhappy captive 
633 





:>.\ 



o.'il 



„'£££> 



■ xi 



M 




634 



GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN'S STORIES 



[May, 



was in a cell whose walls were hard — oh, as hard 
as stone ! — dreadful, burning walls that actually 
pressed against their tender bodies, so that they 
twisted and turned, struggling to be free. Over 
them rested, close and suffocating, a roof as hard 
and stony as all the rest, against which some bent 
their poor heads, others their little crooked backs, 
all lifting, pushing, staggering, and fainting with 
their efforts. And choked and parched with the 
terrible heat though they were, and tormented 
with hunger and thirst, they yet never dared stop 
an instant for rest, or to relax and get a breath, 
for each knew that they must win freedom with 
their own fast-failing strength, and win it very 
soon, or perish miserably ! 

Who could deny that it was much easier, and 
even seemingly wiser, to give up? Anyway, some 



off, if you will believe it, and there was the 
lovely blue of the morning sky that they had 
never seen before, arching above them. 

Such a phenomenon they knew could only be 
associated with some tremendous upheaval of es- 
tablished law, for, of course, nothing ever, of its 
own accord, falls up. Moreover, they found 
themselves instantly in such a changed condition 
that their senses really did fail them for a bit. 
For instead of being in inky darkness, they were 
bathed in dazzling light ; and the choking heat 
that stifled and tortured them had given way to 
some limpid delight that beat gently against their 




wkce-i^ 



;^#e^f§| 




THE " SAGE AT WORK. 



of them did, on the instant of realizing fully the 
situation, as I have already said. But a few hung 
on still, not even yet quite hopeless or defeated; 
they just could not cease striving, but kept push- 
ing and working, gasping and half out of their 
senses. And then a wonderful thing happened ! 
Yes, indeed. I don't suppose anything any more 
wonderful ever happened to a group of suffering 
captives such as these — and there are many such 
groups, you know ; thousands and thousands of 
them, all over this world. It was so astonishing 
a thing that they were bewildered for long, and 
did not know whether to rejoice or be afraid, 
which, in their weakened state, was no wonder 
at all. For the roof of the prison— the great, 
thick, hard, heavy, hot roof that rested its load 
fairly upon them — suddenly fell off! Fell clear 



worn little bodies very much as the small soft 
waves beat against us when we go swimming in 
smooth water, of a summer's day. And wonder 
of wonders, and delight of delights, they could 
lift their heads, and straighten their poor aching 
backs, and they could turn their faces up and up, 
to the beautiful open heaven; up, to God ! 

Frowning a little bit, a small sage bent down and 
scratched gently, with the pruning-knife which 
he carried, the hard-baked surface of the ground 
where the morning-glory seeds had been planted ; 
but it made almost no more impression than it 
would have made on rock. So he thrust the 
blade into the ground a little way, twisting and 
working it; and at last a great, hard flake of 
crust broke loose and fell back, as he pried. And 



I9'3-] 



GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN'S STORIES 



635 



lo ! there to his astonished eyes was revealed the 
little group of wan prisoners— the white, waxy, 
tiny morning-glory plants that could not burst 
their dreadful prison walls— almost as great a 
surprise to him as this marvelous occurrence was 
to them. 

"Well, I 'm blest !" said he, as he counted them ; 
"whoever would have believed a single one could 
be alive?" 

Being a true sage, he wasted no time in won- 
dering, however; but set to work straightway to 
make effective the rescue which had so curiously 
happened, by getting the victims quite free of 
their prison. 

First of all, he shaded them from the sun, 
which was on its way up the skies and rapidly 
growing hotter— you will remember that it was 
just the beginning of a "warm," which is what 
the day is to a plant. Night, when the sun is 
away, is the "cool," and each is a long, long time 
to them, as long as a month or so to us. Re- 
membering how dark it had always been where 
they were confined, he put a big umbrella over 
them, which not only kept the sun from them, but 
tempered the light that dazzled them so. Then 
he watered the ground all about them very thor- 
oughly, to soften it; watered it with the very fine 
sprayer of the watering-pot, that they might not 
be beaten down under the water's weight as it fell 
on them. Then he ran indoors, and found that he 
might put them in the corner of the fence before 
the chicken run ; and at 
once he got at the 
earth there, working 
furiously with spading- 
fork and rake until it 
was as fine and mellow 
and luscious as the most 
exacting morning-glory of 
high degree could desire. 
Then he moved them. 

Ah, that was a ticklish 
job ! Not satisfied with 
having strangled nearly all 
their fellows, the earth of 
this place where the luck- 
less mites had been sown 
clung to them cruelly when 
he sought to free them, as 
if it would tear and rend 
them asunder. Great clods 
of it dragged at the baby 
rootlets even after each plant was released from 
its jealous clasp; and if any one but a sage, and a 
very patient one at that, had been engaged in the 
task of release, few, if any, would have sur- 
vived. But he knew just how to take between 





"CLODS DRAGGED AT 
THE BABY ROOTLETS." 



thumb and finger each 
hard-caked lump that was 
still closed about a deli- 
cate root, and pinch it 
carefully, and roll it 
slightly, until, at last, it 
gave way, and, in a per- 
fect rage of defeat, flew 
all apart. 

So, at last, all were lib- 
erated, one after another, 
and hastened as fast as 
each was free into the de- 
lightful home which he 
had made ready for them. 
I suppose you would 
laugh if I were to say that 
they were set right down 
to a feast; but that is 

exactly what they were. Plants eat, you know, 
through their roots ; and when all the tiniest 
roots and hair-like rootlets are in contact with 
the earth — with good earth — they are exactly in 
the situation of people happily seated around a 
splendid banquet table whereon is spread every- 
thing that they can possibly need or want. 

The sage knew this, so he took the greatest 
care to sift the fine, sweet earth in between and 
around all the little roots, and to spread all these 
same little roots carefully in the directions which 
they had wanted to take but could not, when they 
were in the grip of the cruel earth whence he 
had saved them. 

But they were much too sick and exhausted 
with their terrible experiences and narrow es- 
cape to eat a thing for a long time ; that is, a 
long time counting plant time. But the second 
day, sometime, they must have passed the crisis ; 
for when the sage took the umbrella away from 
over them at sunset— oh, yes, they had been cov- 
ered by it all this time— the tender green of 
health was beginning to shine through them, just 
as the pink shines through healthy people. And 
by another day they had begun to grow ; and in 
no time, it seemed, they were at the very top of 
that fence ; and then very soon they were span- 
gled with great blossoms as big as a tea-cup, some 
of them; oh, such blues and purples and crimsons, 



636 



GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN'S STORIES 



[May, 






with fine, clear margins of white, and one kind 
all white ! 

So you have never thought that a plant could 
feel? Or that it hurt the little seed and the soft, 
tender life within it to be imprisoned in a stifling, 
killing grip? And I suppose you likewise have 
never thought that some earth was cruel, or that 
other earth was kind? No — you see you have 
not. And I do not know that I am surprised that 
you have not, for there are a great many things 
that a great many people have never thought that 
are, after all, perfectly thinkable. 

Of course, I should not like to say that earth 
is ever wilfully cruel ; but that part of the ques- 
tion need not, after all, perplex us. All that con- 
cerns us and the making of our gardens, and the 
life of our seeds and plants, is the fact that in 
some places it will not let them live because it 
chokes or starves them, or both ; while in other 
places it helps them all it can by holding them 
tenderly and just close enough, and yielding them 
an abundance of food. The first thing for us to 
do, therefore, now that we know that there are 
the two kinds of earth, is to learn to know one 
from the other. 

It surely would seem that there must be some 
easy way of telling the two kinds apart, would it 
not? And there is, a very simple way, only it 
makes your hands dirty. But dirty hands are the 
badge of sincerity in a garden-maker, I have 
come to think. For I have never yet found a 
boy or a girl, or a man or a woman, who was too 
dainty to put their paws right down into the earth 
willingly and gladly — indeed, with real pleasure — 
who could make a garden worth a punched penny. 

After all, what is this that we call "dirt"? 
Where does it come from ? Do you know ? Lest 
you have not, as yet, learned, suppose we start 
right here as a beginning. Earth, or soil, is no- 
thing more nor less than tiny particles of what 
geologists call broken-down rock — that is, rock 
that has crumbled to dust— and equally tiny par- 
ticles of broken-down plant or animal tissue, 
otherwise known as organic dust. Dust of rocks 
and dust of plants, with dust of the bones of long- 
dead animals, and dust of insects, too— these 
make up the soil that has filled all the chinks, big 
and little, of this great, round planet on which we 
are living. 

Although the rock-dust particles are all very 
tiny, they vary quite a good deal in size, being 
much larger in some places than they are in 
others. Almost always where there is water, as 
along the sea-shore, for instance, they are very 
large; and here we call the soil "sand." Places 
where they are very tiny indeed, and so lie very 
close together, have a soil that we have named 



"clay." And between these two extremes is the 
soil that is the very best of all soils, which goes 
by the name of "loam." This is made up of the 
large particles and the small, about evenly dis- 
tributed. 

With your spade, the third day after a rain, 
turn over a clod of earth where your garden is to 
be, driving it down its full depth if you can, and 
so getting a good, deep sample. Take up a hand- 
ful of this earth from the overturned clod and 
squeeze it in your hand ; then open your fingers 
and palm out flat. Does the earth lump fall apart 
and little dust rivers run down it and spread it out 
all over your hand? Then it is a sandy soil — 
which is usually a better beginning than the other 
extreme, being more easily made like loam or into 
sandy loam. 

Instead of running all about, however, in dirt 
streams, perhaps the lump of earth that you are 
holding stays squeezed together and shows the 
marks of your fingers on it, just as a lump of 
dough or putty would. Then it is clay— the cruel, 
bad earth which strangles seed babies, and tears 
at tender little roots, and bakes under the hot sun 
into a fiery, stony prison, holding captive any- 
thing which finds lodgment in it, except, perhaps, 
the rankest, strongest weeds or grasses. 

Let us hope that you have found earth that is 
just about half-way between these two extremes; 
that is, earth that stays in form an instant as you 
unclose your hand, but crumbles apart and falls 
into lumps, and these in turn into smaller lumps, 
as it lies. This is the way loam acts— the tender 
earth that loves the plants and is loved by them. 
But if you have not found this, remember that 
you can lighten the clay always by working sand, 
or coal ashes, or lime, either one or all three, into 
it ; or that you can bind together and enrich sand 
by working manure through it, as you spade it 
to make ready for planting. 

There is no denying that this business of mak- 
ing the earth ready is really the least pleasant of 
all the garden tasks; but it is something we can- 
not dodge, therefore we may as well get all the 
fun out of it that we can. So pitch into the 
earth and turn over clods, whatever the soil, two 
spades or layers deep ; hammer and spank them 
with the spade as you go along to break them, 
working backward, so you may always stand on 
unspaded ground, and working all the zvay across 
from left to right and then back from right to 
left, so that each row is finished before another 
is begun. Then rake the loose earth over and 
try to get out all the stones that are larger than 
a walnut; then level the space nicely; and then, if 
it is a loose, sandy soil, or even a sandy loam, put 
a flat board down on it and walk hard on this— 



-913 3 



GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN'S STORIES 



637 



even jump, to multiply your weight, moving it 
along imtil all the space prepared has been pressed 
down. But if it is a close, heavy soil— if it is 
clay — do not do this. The reason it is done on 
sandy soil is that such soil would be too open 
after spading and raking, and would not hold the 
moisture which must be in soil in order that the 
plants may eat. For whatever they take, they 
have to take in liquid form, you know. After the 
soil is pressed and made firm again, rake the top 
very lightly back and forth, and then you are 
ready to plant your seed. 

We do not know much about these— queer, 
dead-looking little things. We do know that in 
them the awful mystery of life is locked up; and 
that putting them into the earth, where we cannot 
see what happens, somehow unlocks it. So we 
plant them, down out of sight ; we hide them, lit- 
tle prisoners of hope, that they may be free. And 
down there, in the dark and the silence, the mir- 
acle is done : the seed opens, out comes a tiny 
root, and this turns at once down, away from the 
light which it cannot see, because all is darkness 
anyway. Nevertheless, without the least uncer- 
tainty, toward the deeper, surer darkness farther 
below, it makes its way, pushing forward gently 
but with resistless force between the little earth 
particles as it reaches and reaches ever, with its 
tip, for food to supply the hungry little plant that 
has been going up as the root went down — up and 
out of the earth entirely, into the sunlight, and 
wind, and rain, and dew. 

Whatever seed you sow, put it into the ground 
to a distance equal to three times its own greatest 
diameter, or thickness, and no more. That is, if a 
seed is an eighth of an inch through, cover it 
with three eighths of an inch of earth ; but with 
seeds that are themselves no larger than dust . 
grains, use a salt-shaker, and sprinkle them 
lightly over the space where they are to go, and 
press them into the loose soil with a flat piece of 
board. 

Water thoroughly, after preparing it, the 
ground where seeds are to be sown and the day 
before you intend sowing them. Then it will be 
just mellow enough and soft enough to receive 
them and close over them as it should. And keep 
the earth just moist enough all the time to crum- 
ble apart in your hand after squeezing, as I have 
explained to you that loamy soil will do. But 
more important even than just the degree of 
moisture is the same degree constantly main- 
tained. That is, it must not be allowed to get 
very dry, and then be made very wet to make up 
for the neglect; keep it just as nearly as possible 
the same, day in and day out. And shelter the 

(71? be con 



little plants from hard rains until they are strong, 
big fellows. Some seeds sprout very quickly ; 
others take a long time. Sometimes the seed 
packet in which they come will have printed on it 
how long you must wait before expecting to see 
the green shoots begin to break their way through 
the earth. 

// I were you, I should plant now a border of 
marigolds, with alyssum for an edging. Prepare 
a sunny space fifteen inches wide beside the 
house or along a walk, and sow the marigolds in 
two rows, one two inches from the back of the 
space, and the other six inches from the front. 
Drop the seed two or three inches apart along lit- 
tle shallow drills, which you can make with your 
finger or a pointed stick, using a string stretched 
tight from one end of the space to the other, 
close to the ground, for a "ruler" to draw the 
line of the drill by. After these are sowed, draw 
another drill two inches from the front, and into 
this drop the sweet alyssum seeds, an inch apart. 

When the plants are well up, thin out the mari- 
golds until those in each row are eight inches 
apart, making the front ones come opposite the 
spaces between the rear ones so they stand zig- 
zag. Thin the alyssum too, so that the plants are 
eight inches apart, each one standing in front of 
the rear marigold plant. Get the alyssum called 
"Little Gem," and a packet of mixed double mari- 
golds, each five cents; or, if you wish to spend a 
little more, try a collection of six kinds of double 
French marigolds, which may be had for twenty- 
five cents. From either one and the alyssum you' 
will have a lovely border of white and many 
shades of velvety gold, lasting until frost comes 
in the fall. 

Other combinations which are lovely are double 
blue corn-flowers grown nine inches apart for the 
back, with golden calliopsis six inches apart in 
front : large flowering snapdragon, in pale pink 
or mixed colors, nine inches apart for the back, 
with imperial dwarf white ageratum, four inches 
apart, in front : Marguerite carnations in mixed 
colors, eight inches apart at the back, with tufted 
pansies— violas — in clear yellow or white, as pre- 
ferred, four inches apart, in front : white Nicoti- 
ana affinis one foot apart at the back, with Cali- 
fornia poppies, mixed, four inches apart as edg- 
ing: annual larkspur in mixed colors one foot 
apart behind with gypsophila muralis, or pink an- 
nual "baby's breath," five inches apart, in front. 
For every degree of latitude north or south from 
New York a difference of from four to six days 
later or earlier in planting-time and gardening 
generally must be allowed. 

tinned.') 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



BY A. RUSSELL BOND 

Author of " The Scientific American Boy " and " Handyman's Workshop and Laboratory " 



Chapter IV 



SAND-HOGS 



One would suppose that after our experience in 
the caisson we would not care to venture again 
into an underground chamber. It is true we 
spent an awful night following that incident, a 
night beset with horrible dreams that were far 
worse than our actual experiences ; but in the 
cheerful light of the morning, the terror left us 
completely. I believe the adventure whetted our 
appetites for further excitement, and we started 
the day by planning to investigate more under- 
ground work. 

"What I can't make out," said Will, who was 
fussing with something at the wash-basin, "is 
how they keep the water out of those tunnels 
under the river." 

"I don't see anything so mysterious about that. 
They use compressed air to keep the water out, 
just as in a caisson." 

"Yes, I know, but it is n't as simple as all that. 
Now look at this," and he pushed a glass, mouth 
down, into the water. Although the glass was 
completely submerged, the water did not fill it 
because of the air trapped inside. The water rose 
to within an inch or so of the top. 

"That 's just like a caisson," continued Will; 
"the compressed air in the top keeps the water 
down, just as Mr. Squires explained. But now 
watch me turn the glass on the side." Just as he 
got the glass near the horizontal, the air went out 
with a big "gulp," and the glass filled with water. 

"See that ! Now how in the world do they keep 
the air in and the water out, with the end of the 
tunnel open so that the men can dig away the 
sand and mud ahead of the tube?" 

"That question is too much for me," I con- 
fessed. "We shall have to have a look at the 
work, and see for ourselves how it is done. I 
suppose you don't mind going down under pres- 
sure again?" 

"Mind that! Not a bit!" exclaimed Will. 
"One little accident is n't going to scare me 
away." 

On our way down-town we stopped at the hos- 
pital to inquire about Danny Roach. Although 
we could n't' see him, we were assured that he was 
doing nicely, and would be fit for work again in 
a few days. 

When we got down to the tunnel-shaft, we en- 

Copyright, 1913, by A. Russell Bond, 638 



countered unexpected difficulties. The superin- 
tendent would n't even see us, and we were 
obliged to go away without a single glimpse inside 
the yard. The next day, however, we came back 
armed with a letter of introduction from Mr. 
Squires. This gave us an audience with Superin- 
tendent Brown. But that did not mean admission 
to the tunnel. 

"The rule is strict : 'no visitors allowed,' " he 
said. "I wish for the sake of my friend Squires 
that I could let you in. But no one, under any 
pretext whatever, is allowed in that tunnel, ex- 
cept those actually engaged in the work down 
there." 

"Would n't the chief engineer give us a per- 
mit ?" 

"No. Others have tried that, but it was no use." 

"Then there is absolutely no chance of get- 
ting in?" 

"None that I know of,— unless," he suddenly 
added, with a laugh, "unless you would like to go 
in as 'sand-hogs.' Eh, what?" 

"Would we like it!" said Will, his eyes spark- 
ling. "Come on, Jim, it '11 be a great experi- 
ence." 

"Now, I warn you," said the superintendent, 
"this is n't going to be a lark ! You will have to 
work hard, and I won't take you on unless you 
contract to work at least a week ; if you shirk or 
fall down on the job, I will fire you on the spot 
without a cent of pay. Your wages will be two 
dollars a day because you are green hands, but if 
you stick to it, you may get as much as three 
dollars and a half a day after a few years' experi- 
ence, the same as the rest. How is that for a 
glittering prospect— eh?" 

"I 'm game if you are, Will," I said. 

"Report to the doctor, then, and let him look 
you over," said Mr. Brown. 

"We are safe on that score," I interrupted, 
"because we have just been down under pressure 
in a caisson." 

"Yes, but you must see our doctor, neverthe- 
less. If he says you are O.K.," continued the 
superintendent, "you can report to Hughie Smith, 
the gang boss, at midnight. Be here in time to 
put on your working togs. We '11 supply the 
boots. You '11 have to go on at twelve o'clock 
sharp, and you work till eight." 

"Do you work here all night?" we asked in 
surprise. 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



639 



"Most assuredly we do !" he replied. "There is 
no day down there in the tunnel; it is just one 
long continuous night. You 'd better run home 
now and go to bed, or you won't be fit to work 
to-night." 

It was n't exactly what we had bargained for, 
working nights and sleeping during the day, but 
we thought we could stand it for a week. We 
found it very difficult to get to sleep early, and at 
10:30 our alarm-clock awakened us after we had 
put in less than four hours of slumber. It was 
the hardest thing in the world to shake off our 
drowsiness, but the spirit of adventure sustained 
us, and kept us from backing out. We dressed 
hastily and had a hearty meal in a little restaurant 
around the corner, and at a quarter to twelve 
reported to Hughie Smith at the sand-hog house. 

It did n't take us long to put on 
working clothes and boots. There was 
something weird about the whole af- *,p 

fair— the brilliant flaming arc lamps ^Ssm&m 

here and there casting jet black shad- 
ows around the yard; the clank and 
rattle of machinery; the sound of 
escaping air ; the buckets that came up 
out of the tunnel, and the swish of the 
stuff as it slid out into the big hoppers 
from which it was emptied into carts 
that hauled it off to fill some low spot 
in or near the great city. We did n't 
have much time to muse over what we 
saw. A whistle sounded, and we as- 
sembled at the mouth of the shaft with 
the other sand-hogs, where checks 
were handed out. We were no longer 
known by name, but merely by the numbers on 
the checks. 

The cage that rose suddenly out of the shaft 
discharged a gang of men, and we took their 
places. In a moment we were at the bottom of 
the shaft and stepped out into the tunnel, a huge 
steel cylinder seventeen feet in diameter. It was 
fairly well lighted with electric lamps, showing 
the heavy steel plating with which it was 
sheathed. We followed the men down the tunnel, 
to a sort of bulkhead built across the tube. In 
this bulkhead were the air-locks, two of them, 
with doors large enough to admit the trucks on 
which the mud and sand were carried out from 
the tunnel heading. The men all crowded into 
one of the locks. It was a rather long, horizontal 
cylinder with seats on either side for us to occupy 
while the pneumatic pressure was turned on. 
Both doors of the locks were closed, and then the 
gang boss turned on the air gradually. I could 
feel the strain on my ear-drums as the air rushed 
in, although I held my nose and blew as hard as 



I could. When the air ceased hissing, we knew 
that the pressure in the lock was the same as that 
in the tunnel. The foreman then opened the door, 
and we all trooped out. We had to walk a couple 
of hundred feet before getting to the shield. The 
boss stationed his men, and then turned to us. 
Will had been eagerly waiting for a chance to ask 
questions. He was full of them, and now he 
started in; but the boss hushed him up at once. 

"Look here, we have n't any time for any of 
that ! This ain't no tea-party. You are here to 
work. Do you understand? Take that shovel 
there and get busy loading this truck. No loafing 
now I" 

Obediently we started work without further 
words, realizing that we must depend on our eyes 
to answer our questions. We saw that the tunnel 




PUSHING THE SHIELD THROUGH SILT AND ROCK. 
The rock drillers are protected by an overhanging " apron." 

shield was a sort of a drum-like affair with the 
ends open, but with a diaphragm dividing it in two 
in the center. There were a number of sliding 
doors in this diaphragm, through which the men 
could pass to the outside of the shield, to dig 
away the soil in front of the tunnel. We found 
a chance to step through the diaphragm once and 
see that the front of it was divided into a number 
of pockets by plates that ran up and down and 
crosswise. The men worked in the shelter of 
these pockets, removing the soil in advance of the 
shield. Our job, however, was inside the shield, 
loading the trucks with the sand, or "muck," that 
was shoveled through the openings in the dia- 
phragm. The trucks, when filled, were hauled 
away by small electric locomotives, or "dinkies," 
as they were called. 

We worked hard, sustained by the rich atmo- 
sphere ; but our muscles were not used to such 
labor, and before long we grew exceedingly tired. 
Interest in the work about us, however, helped to 
divert our attention from aches and pains. We 



640 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



[May, 



observed that the shield was larger in diameter 
than the lining of the tunnel, and that it fitted 
over the end of the lining like a cap. We saw 
also how the shield was moved forward. A num- 
ber of hydraulic jacks were placed all around the 
shield between the diaphragm and the linir.g of 
the tunnel. Then, when all was ready, the water 
was turned on in the jacks, forcing the plungers 
out, and pushing the shield bodily forward a dis- 
tance of abouftwo feet, or just enough to get in 
another ring of lining. The work required great 
care because with the jacks the shield was steered 
and made to move up or down, or to the right or 
left, so as to follow the course of the tunnel as 
planned. The tunnel was being pushed through 
from the other side of the river as well, and, un- 
less the work followed the survey accurately, the 
headings would not meet properly at the center 
of the river. Just how accurately the steering 
was done we learned many, many months later, 
when the shields of the two headings met. One 
of the shields was four inches lower than the 
other, but otherwise the alinement was perfect. 
Think of it ! Only four inches out, after grovel- 
ing in the dark through a mile of silt ! 

The way the lining was set in place was inter- 
esting. There was an "erector," or a sort of 
hydraulic crane, mounted on the face of the 
shield, with which the lining plates were picked 
up and placed in position after the shield had been 
moved forward. These plates were curved to the 
arc of the tunnel, and had deep flanges on all four 
sides through which the bolts were passed that 
fastened them one to the other. The deep flanges 
made them very strong indeed. 

For four hours we toiled steadily. It seemed 
eight before the gang knocked off for luncheon. 
I was disappointed to find that the dawn was only 
just breaking when we emerged from the tunnel. 
We had n't thought about eating, and had brought 
no lunch-pail. The idea of taking lunch at four 
o'clock in the morning would have seemed ri- 
diculous to us. Needless to say, the idea was far 
from ridiculous now. Hot coffee was served in 
the sand-hog house, but we were ravenous for 
something more substantial. There were no res- 
taurants open in that vicinity at that time of the 
morning. One of the men took pity on us and 
gave us a few bites of his luncheon, for which 
we were truly grateful. 

He was a fine fellow, an old hand at the game, 
and he knew all there was to know about pneu- 
matic work. He it was who explained our prob- 
lem of the tumbler. 

"It 's simple enough," he said; "the pressure of 
the water depends on the depth, and so there is 
more water-pressure at the bottom of the tunnel 



than at the top; but there is n't any difference 
worth mentioning in the air-pressure between the 
top and bottom of the tunnel. If the material 
out in front of the tunnel was very soft, and we 
made the air-pressure heavy enough to keep out 
the water at the bottom of the heading, it would 
all escape out of the top; and if the air-pressure 
was just equal to the water-pressure at the top of 
the tunnel, the water would pour in at the bottom. 
Just now the material we are going through is 
clay-like, and we don't have to bother very much 
about differences of pressure at the top and bot- 
tom of the tunnel ; but when we go through quick- 
sand, with very little 'cover' between the shield 
and the bed of the river, then comes trouble. We 
don't dare work out in front of the diaphragm, 
but must open small shutters in the diaphragm 
and 'scoop' out the sand. That 's when we are apt 
to have blow-outs. The air will burst through the 
fluid sand and boil up. Sometimes a burst of air 
will make the water shoot up like a geyser from 
the surface of the river." 

"What happens when you strike a rock?" Will 
inquired. 

"We have to blast it out of the way. The 
worst trouble comes when we strike a ledge at 
the floor of the tunnel, and have soft silt or quick- 
sand overhead. We had a job like that in the 
North River once. A shelf, or 'apron,' was built 
out from the shield, half-way up, virtually di- 
viding the front of the shield into an upper and 
lower chamber. Under protection of this apron, 
workmen crawled out in front of the shield, 
drilled holes in the rock for mild charges of ex- 
plosive, and then crept back within the shield and 
set off the dynamite. After that they had to 
crawl out again and haul the broken rock away. 
It was slow work, because the operations had to 
be carried on in cramped quarters, and only a 
little of the rock could be blasted at a time. For- 
tunately, there was very little rock to pass 
through. It was merely a reef in the ocean of silt. 
Before, we struck that reef, we found the ma- 
terial so soft that we did n't bother to dig it away 
in front of the shield, but merely pushed the 
shield ahead through the silt with the hydraulic 
jacks." 

Our friend was in the midst of his explanations 
when the signal came to resume work. Our half- 
hour of respite had seemed like only five minutes. 
We were aching all over. How could we ever 
endure the three and a half hours of labor before 
the next shift came on? Luckily for us, the boss 
did not pay as much attention to us this time as 
he did before, and we could ease up a bit on our 
work without having him bawl out at us to "Git 
busy there !" every two minutes. 



I9I3-] 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



641 



Slowly the hours dragged by. Finally, when it very well acquainted with the men, and found 
seemed as if we could endure it no longer, the them a pretty decent sort. To be sure, they 
signal to quit was sounded, and we all trooped "jollied'' us a great deal, but it was all done in a 
out. Tired ! I was never so tired in all my life, good-natured way. 

and I was desperately hungry, too. The first Nothing very exciting occurred until the last 
thing we did was to hunt up a restaurant, where day of our contract week. That day started 
we devoured such a breakfast as astonished the wrong. In the first place, the gang foreman 
waiter. Then we went straight home to bed. failed to show up, and we went down the shaft 

without him, taking our regu- 
lar places. Soon the super- 
intendent came down and 
appointed one of the more 
experienced men foreman of 
the gang. That 's where the 
trouble first started. 

We had been having con- 
siderable difficulty with boul- 
ders in the path of the shield. 
They had to be broken up 
before they could be hauled 
out of the way. During the 
night, an extra large boul- 
der had been encountered, 
and an attempt had been 
made to blast it. The blast- 
ing had failed to make any 
material impression on the 
rock, but it had loosened up 
the silt and mud overhead so 
that it was in a very shaky 
condition. Had our foreman 
shown up that morning, no 
doubt he would have learned 
from the foreman of the 
night gang just what had oc- 
curred, and, accordingly, 
would have proceeded very 
cautiously ; but we went 
about our work as if nothing 
had happened. 

Several men were outside 
of the shield at work in the 
different pockets. The new 
up into one of the upper 
pockets, when he noticed a bad leak at the edge 
of the "apron." The apron in this case was a 
curved steel plate that projected from the upper 
part of the shield, like the poke of a sunbonnet, 
and protected the men below from material that 
might fall on them. It was supported by slanting 
braces. As soon as he saw the leak, the - foreman 
called the men to bring up bags of sand and hay 
to choke up the hole. Two men climbed up through 
the door in the diaphragm with bags of sand. The 
first one, "Jerry," was about to hand up the bag, 
and the other fellow, "Jake," was right behind 
him, when suddenly, with a sound like a giant 




INSIDE THE TUNNEL, SHOWING .THE "ERECTOR, BACK OF THE HORIZONTAL 
PLATFORM, RAISING A LINING PLATE TO POSITION. 



Chapter V 



foreman climbed 



A MAN GOES SKY-ROCKETING THROUGH THE 
RIVER-BED 

Along toward the middle of the week, we were 
shifted to the heading at the other side of the 
river. The work here did not differ materially 
from that which we had been doing, but we found 
it easier to do a day's work that began at eight 
a.m. and ended at four p.m. than one that took up 
the hours between midnight and our customary 
rising hour. We were learning how to swing the 
shovel to better advantage, and we were not half 
so weary when our day's toil was ended. We got 
Vol. XL.— 8i. 



642 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



[May, 



cough, the air hurst through the silt ahove the 
apron. The tunnel had discharged like a pneu- 
matic gun. The air picked up the men as if they 




PUTTING UP A SHIELD WHERE THE TUNNEL IS ABOUT 
TO BREAK OUT OF THE ROCK. 



had been straws, and flung them headlong into the 
mud. I happened to catch a fleeting glimpse of 
all this while I snatched desperately at something" 
to keep from being blown along with them. At 
the very same instant, the lights went out, and we 
were plunged in inky darkness, while we could 
hear the rush of water pouring into the tunnel. 
There was a panic at once. Every one started on 
a mad scramble, stumbling and falling over one 
another and the various timbers and obstructions, 
shouting and yelling— a wild run of 400 feet to 
the locks. Will and I groped our way back as 
fast as we could, hand in hand. My chum had 
been knocked down and rendered all but uncon- 
scious by an ugly blow on the forehead. 

It was not until we had all entered the locks 
and had actually begun to lock ourselves through 
that our senses returned to us. We were like the 
Irishman who swam ashore to save himself first, 
and then swam back to save the other fellow. 
The foreman, who had fled with the rest, sud- 
denly remembered the responsibility that rested 
upon him. Hastily he counted noses, and found 
that two were missing. 

"They must have been caught by the blow-out," 
he said; "we must go back to save them if we 
can." Candles were procured, and we all went 
back into the black tunnel. 

As we neared the shield, we heard a faint voice 



calling for help, and we shouted encouragement. 
The water was rapidly growing deeper, and al- 
ready it was up to our knees. We found a poor 
fellow lodged in the mud between the boulder 
which the night shift had tried to blast and one of 
the slanting braces of the apron. It was Jake. 
What had become of Jerry? We could not imag- 
ine. We had work enough trying to extricate the 
man before us. When the blow-out occurred, he 
was knocked senseless for a time, but then the 
black water and mud flowing in through the open- 
ing made by the outpouring air ran down over his 
face, and restored him to consciousness. When 
he came to, all had deserted him ; everything was 
dark, and he was pinioned so that he could n't 
escape, while the black torrent flowing down on 
him nearly drowned him. To make matters 
worse, as soon as the tunnel had discharged most 
of its air-pressure in the blow-out, the silt began 
to press in upon the shield. This threatened slow 
torture for poor Jake. Slowly but surely the 
boulder would crush him. He called and called. 
He knew that it would not take long for the tun- 
nel to fill with such a river of mud flowing into it. 
Fortunately, he was in the upper part of the head- 
ing, and it would take longer for the water to 
reach him. He had almost given up hope when 
he heard us coming back. The task of removing 
him was not so simple. We managed to free his 
body, after some work, but his legs were firmly 
held. There was little time left; the water was 
rising rapidly. 

"Come back," shouted one of the men, "we have 




TWO SHIELDS, PUSHED FROM OPPOSITE SIDES OF 
THE RIVER, MEETING WITH A PERFECT FIT. 

got to close the doors in the shield, or the tunnel 
will be filled." 

"What ! and leave that fellow out there !" I cried. 



I9I3-] 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 




'CLEAR THROUGH THE BED OF THE RIVER AND UP TO THE SURFACE!" 



"We can't get him out anyway, and if the locks 
are flooded, we can't get out ourselves !" he said, 
vainly tugging at the doors. In the progress of the 
tunnel the shield had slowly turned over so that 
the track of the sliding doors was no longer hori- 
zontal, but slanted upward, and the door was too 
heavy for the man to move alone up the incline. 

Things were getting desperate. But at last 
there was a shout of triumph. The foreman had 
succeeded in prying loose the rock that held Jake 
pinioned. It was none too soon ; the water was 
pouring in faster than ever. It had reached the 
"spring line," or the center line of the tunnel ; 
that is, it was 8y 2 feet deep at the shield. Even 
when walking along the tracks that were elevated 
above the bottom of the tube, the water was up to 
our shoulders ; and one or two of the shorter men 
had to swim. 

The rescued worker was placed on a plank 
and floated to the locks. There was no time to 
think of closing the doors in the shield, besides 
they were submerged, and so we could not reach 
them now. If it had n't been for the grade of the 
tunnel, the water would have filled it above the 



level of the locks. As it was, the water was be- 
ginning to slop over the sill of the lock as we 
splashed up to it. 

But what of the other victim of the blow-out? 
We had found no trace of him anywhere, and 
there was no possibility of making further search 
for him. 

But when we reached the top of the shaft, you 
can imagine our amazement at seeing the man 
who had supposedly perished, sitting calmly in the 
center of an admiring group of reporters, and 
telling a most astonishing story — such a story as 
was almost beyond belief ! When the tunnel dis- 
charged like a great air-gun, he had played the 
part of a bullet, and had been shot clear through 
the bed of the river and up to the surface! Two 
men were in a rowboat under a dock picking up 
driftwood, when suddenly a screaming, mud-cov- 
ered object shot up out of the depths, rising clear 
of the water, and dropping back again with a 
splash. They were terror-stricken; panic seized 
them, particularly when the object reappeared 
and struck out after them, but Jerry's cries for 
help brought them to their senses, although it 



644 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



was some time before they realized that he was 
actually a human being, and not some inhabitant 
of the lower regions. They pulled the man aboard 
and brought him to shore. At first Jerry thought 
he must be badly hurt. He ought to have been 
hurt in such a sky-rocket trip as that, but after 
feeling himself all over carefully, he could n't, 
for the life of him, find any damage to his anat- 
omy ! So there was nothing for him to do but 
report back for work ! 

It was the most sensational incident that had 
ever happened in tunnel work, and the place 
fairly buzzed with reporters. Inside of an hour, 
a breathless newsboy came running up with an 
armful of extras, which sold like hot cakes, and 
Jerry had the pleasure of reading all about his 
own curious adventure. 

There was no more work done that day. It was 
the last day of our contract week, and we were 
more than glad to throw up the job and collect 
our wages. 

Chapter VI 

ENGINEER PRICE 

It was sheer luck that brought us back to the tun- 
nel-shaft, a few days later, at the precise moment 
when a distinguished-looking man issued from the 
office with Superintendent Brown at his heels.- 

"Why, hello ! here they are now !" exclaimed 
the superintendent as he caught sight of us. 
"Come here, boys, I want to introduce you to 
Chief Engineer Price." 

"Aha !" said the engineer, "so you are the boys 
I have been hearing about. I suppose .you want 
to contract for another week's work, don't you?" 

"Well, not exactly, sir," spoke up Will. "I 
don't think we care for any more tunnel experi- 
ences just now. .We have had enough to last 
awhile, but we thought we would stroll down and 
see how you were going to clear the mud and 
water out of that tunnel. Jim and I have been 
trying to figure it out, but we can't, for the life of 
us, see how you are going to do it." 

"Well, boys, if I were n't in such a beastly 
hurry just now," said Engineer Price, looking at 
his watch, "I would like to have a talk with you. 
You come up to my office to-morrow at one o'clock 
sharp. I want you to take lunch with me. Here is 
the address," and he handed Will his card and was 
off before we had recovered from our surprise. 

Just as the clock struck one the next day, we 
pushed open the door of the engineer's rooms, 
and were promptly shown into his inner office. 

"Good morning, boys," he said cordially, shak- 
ing hands with us. "You 're on time to the min- 
ute, I see. There is nothing I commend so highly 



as promptness. We shall step right out to 
luncheon and do our talking there." 

The club to which Engineer Price took us was 
so richly and elaborately furnished that we were 
quite overwhelmed ; but our host soon put us at 
ease. He wanted to know all about us and what 
induced us to try our hand at sand-hogging. We 
told him the whole story from beginning to end. 

"And this Uncle Edward, who is he?" 

"Why, Edward Jordan, the engineer." 

"What, are you 'Eddy' Jordan's nephew? 1 
used to know him when I was at school." And 
he told us a lot of funny yarns about Uncle Ed- 
ward's school-days. Finally, when the oppor- 
tunity offered, Will took occasion to remind Mr. 
Price that he had not yet told us how he was 
going to clear out the flooded tunnel. 

"Oh, that is not such a very difficult job," said 
Mr. Price. "We have located the hole in the bed 
of the river, and to-morrow, at slack tide, we are 
going to sink a tarpaulin over it and dump clay 
on the tarpaulin. That ought to make a pretty 
effective seal, and then we shall pump the water 
out of the tunnel and the air into it at the same 
time. I will give you a pass to see the work if 
you like. 

"Oh, Mr. Ludlow !" called out Engineer Price 
to a large man with a long, gray mustache who 
was passing our table. "Sit down here a minute. 
I want you to meet a pair of very promising 
young engineers. This is Will, Eddy Jordan's 
nephew, and this his chum, Jim. Mr. Ludlow, 
boys, is the chief engineer of the new East River 
suspension-bridge." Then he proceeded to sing 
our praises to the bridge engineer, much to our 
embarrassment. "Why, they have been actually 
groveling in the mud as sand-hogs for a whole 
week, just to learn something about tunnel work 
at first hand instead of through books. Such 
striving after knowledge, such devotion to en- 
gineering, should be encouraged. Now, why can't 
you arrange to have them shown over your 
bridge?" 

"Why, I should be delighted to," said Mr. Lud- 
low. "Call at my office, boys, and I will give you 
a letter of introduction to Mr. Blanchard, my 
assistant, who is in immediate charge of the 
work." 

"Will you, sir?" said Will, eagerly. "Thank 
you so much. That 's the very work we wanted 
most to see." 

And before that luncheon was over, we had 
met a number of engineers, all of whom took a 
kindly interest in us, and offered to show us 
through the various lines of work in which they 
were engaged. 



( To be continued- ) 




Copyright by J 


"ischel, Adler 


and Schwartz. 

"ME LOVES *.00," 

FROM THE PAINTING BY M. GOODMAN. 



645 



BOOKS AND 
READING 



HAWTHORNE 




ROMANCES OF FIVE KINGS 

! jfa j EVER has the story of England 
been more romantic and adven- 
turous than under the early 
Plantagenet kings. Then was 
the day of the Crusades, when 
nobles, knights, and princes led 
the flower of the land to incredi- 
ble hardships far oversea; then, 
too, was the day of Robin Hood, 
gallantest of outlaws, gentlest of robbers, lover of 
fair play and the fresh out of doors. Norman, 
Saxon, and Dane were being slowly intermingled 
to make the English nation, and the contrasts 
and surprises of every-day life were dazzling. 
The wayfarer you encountered on any highroad 
might be Richard of the Lion Heart returning 
from fierce battles with the infidels, or just the 
simple pilgrim he appeared; and because you hap- 
pened to be a lord of high degree, rich and power- 
ful, one day, was no good reason why you should 
n't be a hunted fugitive the next. 

The tender story of Fair Rosamond belongs to 
this time, as well as the pitiful tale of little Prince 
Arthur. And Magna Charta, that shining leaf in 
the great book of freedom, was signed under 
John, the third Plantagenet. In fact, the mere 
record of the history is thrilling; so that it is 



easy to understand that many a rousing story 
can be told of those days. 

And so there has been. Scott laid several of his 
finest romances in Plantagenet times, beginning 
with "The Betrothed," which belongs in the reign 
of Henry II, and is by many people thought to 
be the very best of the Waverley Novels. The 
stir and turmoil of the Crusades beat through it, 
though it is chiefly interested in revealing the 
troubles that followed taking so many fighting 
men away from England to the Holy Lands. The 
heroine has many adventures and hardships, the 
scenes occurring in many parts of England and 
Wales, and a great variety of life is given to us 
with much spirit and power. 

Another book that tells of the same period is 
Maurice Hewlett's "Life and Death of Richard 
Yea-and-Nay." Richard is the hero of this story, 
to be sure, but most of it takes place while he is 
still a young prince, and there is a fine portrait 
of Henry, his father, as well as of his sly brother 
John, who succeeded Richard when the latter was 
killed by one of his subjects. The book is thrill- 
ing reading and extraordinarily alive. The char- 
acter of Richard is different from the one usually 
attributed to him, but it is convincing, and for all 
its faults there is a reckless manliness, something 
kindly and gallant in the man, that makes you 
forgive his vacillation, his cruelty even ; certainly 
he is made very real, and so too is the motley 
population over which his father rules, and rules 
well. You won't forget the England of Henry II 
after reading this book. 

It was under this same Henry that Robin Hood 
is first heard of. He is not a true historical char- 
acter, since he has come down to our day only in 
the form of popular ballads and legends, and 
story-tellers use a good deal of freedom in bring- 
ing him into their books; but it seems probable 
that he drew his famous longbow somewhere 
about the end of the twelfth century. 



646 



BOOKS AND READING 



64 7 



Howard Pyle's "Life and Adventures of Robin 
Hood" (Scribner's, $3) is perhaps the best of 
all the modern Robin Hood books. Pyle loved a 
bold adventurer like Robin, and tells his story 
with the keenest joy— and what a story it is ! 
Into it comes the noble figure of the king, and 
both Richard and John have adventures in Sher- 
wood Forest. Many another brave knight and 
fair lady come gaily into the tale, with bad men 
too, who get their deserts, most of them falling 
before the broad arrows of the outlaw band. 
There is a marvelous sweet breath of the green- 
wood blowing through these delightful pages, 
with song of blackbird and throstle, and the glint 
of sunshine to gladden you as you follow on, see- 
ing the glimpse of a deer or a huntsman, hearing 
the laugh of a maid or the clash of a sword and , 
buckler. 

Much of the life of the common people is care- 
fully pictured, for the book is made from the 
songs they sang and the stories they told. For 
undiluted, healthy pleasure, and for a vivid 
sketch of the times it portrays, few volumes can 
beat it. The pictures are also by Pyle, and are 
as good as the rest of the book. 

If you want another book of about the same 
period, there is "Forest Outlaws," by E. Gilliat 
(Dutton, 1887, $1.50), which tells the life of a 
boy and girl in Lincoln who were more or less 
under the protection of the good and great Bishop 
Hugh. King Henry is in it, long after his ro- 
mance with Fair Rosamond, whom he still re- 
members, however, and the fierce Queen Eleanor, 
who came to him from Aquitaine, and of course 
his two sons. The king is rather big and un- 
wieldy, and sometimes you rather laugh at him ; 
but both the children know and love him. Robin 
and his merry men are there among the rest ; 
there are splendid adventures in the forest; and, 
altogether, the story is good and interesting, and 
especially written for young people. 

Richard the Lion-Hearted followed his father 
Henry upon the English throne, and I dare say 
all of you know him pretty well, for there must 
be very few who have n't read Scott's wonderful 
romances "Ivanhoe" and "The Talisman." If 
such there be, they will have a great treat before 
them ; I 'm sure I wish I were going to read 
either for the first time ! 

"The Talisman" tells of Richard's adventures 
in the Holy Land, and brings Saladin into the 
story. What a scene that is where Richard and 
Saladin try each other's skill as swordsmen, 
Richard the mighty, Saladin the expert. The 
novel is a splendid description of the whole tem- 
per and marvel of that amazing spirit, the Cru- 
sading spirit, and you need to read it if you 



want to understand the men and the fortunes of 
those days. 

"Ivanhoe" takes up Richard's life when he 
comes home again, where the treacherous John 
is usurping the powers of state. Robin Hood 
comes into the book, and in the character of 
Gurth the Swineherd you meet a true Saxon 
churl. Then there is the great Knight Templar 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and the fair Rowena, 
said to be a descendant of Edward the Confessor, 
whom you met in the book about William the 
Conqueror, "Harold." There is a wonderful 
tournament and a terrible battle. The story is 
one of the finest ever told, changing and mov- 
ing, full of color and life, amusing, tragic, ex- 
citing. 

There is a very good story by Paul Creswick, 
who has also written a Robin Hood book, called 
"With Richard the Fearless" (Dutton, 1898, 
$1.50), which tells many adventurous doings, and 
draws a splendid picture of the times ; but I have 
found it hard to come by. It can be got, how- 
ever, and is worth the trouble. 

These ought to do for Richard. John comes 
next. He was n't much of a king, but important 
things happened during his seventeen years' 
reign. He was called Lackland, after the fash- 
ion of that century and several following to give 
nicknames to their leaders, and he lacked much 
besides land, among the rest any very good 
stories concerning his life and England's life dur- 
ing his day. Gilliat has one, "Wolf's Head" 
(Dutton, 1899, $1.50), which begins in 1202, the 
year of his accession, and which uses him as one 
of its characters. It also has Robin in it, and 
makes him come back from being an outlaw, 
which is contrary to most of the chronicles ; but 
that is the good of having a rather mythical per- 
son like the bold wearer of Lincoln green to deal 
with. The book is good in reproducing the times 
very clearly, with many details. Poor Prince 
Arthur appears, and there are scenes in Rouen. 

Of course John comes into the other novels I 
have spoken about, but not as king, and it is a 
pity that there are not more stories of that part 
of his life. If you can get C. A. Bloss's "Hero- 
ines of the Crusades," you will learn more about 
him and his reign ; and you will find the stories 
interesting, I 'm told, though I 've not been able 
to get a copy of the book myself. 

A story of Henry III and his times is a book, 
published in England in 1903, which you ought to 
be able to get through a bookseller. It is by 
Bryan W. Ward, and is called "The Forest 
Prince." Its hero is Henry's son, Edward, but it 
has many other characters, among them the king, 
and is a most enjoyable and picturesque tale. 



648 



BOOKS AND READING 



I suppose most of you have read some at least 
of Charlotte Yonge's books, and possibly "The 
Prince and the Page" among the rest. If you 
have, you will remember what a very good story 
it is. It tells the life of Edward I, beginning 
while the old, weak Henry III is still on the 
throne. You see the king's feebleness and selfish- 
ness contrasted with the honor and manliness of 
his son, the tall, strong prince, who yet considers 
him so carefully. A true knight, this Edward. 
Then it takes you through Edward's reign, and 
makes you at home in Edward's England. 

There is another excellent book set in this same 
reign, Scott's "Castle Dangerous." This book 
takes you into Scotland, and tells how Sir John 
de Walton vows to keep Castle Dangerous a 
whole year from its owner, the good and doughty 
Lord James, and of what followed this rash vow. 
You learn a good deal of how the barons behaved 
themselves, and what the people were up against 
in that century. Though things are a lot better 
than they were when Rufus rode the peasants 
down for sport, you will see that there was much 
still to be done, and that Magna Charta so far 



had not done the poor man a great deal of good. 
It existed, however— a tremendous fact in itself. 
This, indeed, is part of the interest in reading 
our sequence of historic novels. You begin to 
see England growing up, like a child. Learning 
to do new things, learning to live more comforta- 
bly, to govern herself better, to ask for what she 
wants, and to try pretty hard to get it. What a 
different idea of how kings must behave you find, 
now that Edward is on the throne, than when the 
ruthless Normans ground the land for money, 
and murdered whom they chose. The yeomanry 
of England, stalwart, brave, clean-limbed, and 
honest of heart, has grown up, noticeably increas- 
ing under Robin Hood, with his picturesque idea 
of freedom and the worth of a good man. Houses 
. are better, and the weapons men use, as well as 
their tools, have vastly improved. Altogether, if 
we could bring our friend Harold down to the 
day when Edward I ends his thirty-five years of 
kingship, and ask him to look around, this last 
of the Saxon rulers would be a most astonished 
being— yet barely two hundred and fifty years 
separated the two kings. 




'IF IVANHOE HAD LIVED TO-DAY! 



FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK 



WHEN LITTLE BEAR HAD HIS OWN WAY 



BY FRANCES MARGARET FOX 



QrAMrnKtv 



One fine morning, the three bears — Father Bear, Mother Bear, and Baby Bear — 
went for a long walk, very, very early, before little boys and girls were out of bed. 

" Let 's go over to the park," said Father Bear, reaching for his cane. 

Baby Bear danced 
for joy. He was al- 
ways glad to visit the 
park. 

That day the three 
bears were in such 
haste they did n't say 
good morning to the 
toads nor the butter- 
flies nor the birds. 
Baby Bear did n't 
even look at the blue- 
bells and buttercups 
by the roadside. He 
had no time to pick 
flowers when he was 
on his way to the 
park. 

When they came 
to the park, the three 
had a merry time un- 
til Little Bear discov- 
ered the children's hill. He had never seen it before. After that, he did n't 
care to swing in the swings, nor teeter, nor dance around the May-pole. He 
wished to do what the children did all day long in that lovely park. He wished 
to climb to the top of the hill and run down the hard, hard path. 

" If you should try to run down that hill by yourself, you would fall," said 
Father Bear. 

" Yes, you would surely fall," said Mother Bear. 

So the three bears climbed the wee, wee hill together, Little Bear in the mid- 
dle, Father Bear on one side, and Mother Bear on the other. 

" Now, down we go! " began Father Bear, when the three stood at the top of 
the tiny hill, looking down the hard, hard path where children played all the long 
summer days. 

" Down we go ! " said Mother Bear, keeping tight, tight hold of Baby Bear's 
little paw. 

Vol.. XL.— 82. 6^9 







LITTLE BEAK SEEMED TO BE FLYING." (SEE PAGE 650. 



650 



FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK 



[May, 



ofO 



counted Father Bear, keeping tight hold of Baby 





" One, two, three, 
Bear's other paw. 

Downhill ran the three bears — plunk — plunk — plunk- — plunkety — plunkety — 
plunkety — plunk ! At first, Little Bear kept his feet on the path and made them 
run fast, fast ; but before he reached the bottom of the hill, his feet did n't touch 
the path, and he seemed to be flying, with Mother Bear on one side and Father 
Bear on the other. 

Over and over again, Mother Bear and Father Bear climbed the little hill to 
run down again with Baby Bear, until they were both tired and out of breath. 

Father and Mother Bear were too big 
and heavy to enjoy what Little Bear 
thought was such fun. Besides, Mother 



Bear wished to see the peacocks, and 
Father Bear wanted a drink of water. 

" Let me run down the hill alone ! " 
begged Baby Bear. " The children do 
it all day long ! " 

" Not little children ! " said Mother 
Bear. " Their fathers and mothers al- 
ways run down the hill with them. You 
are too small to run down the hill 
alone ! " 

" I want to run down the hill alone! 
I want to run down the hill alone ! " 
howled Baby Bear, in a tantrum. 

" You shall have your own way ! " 
thundered Father Bear. " You shall 
run down the hill alone ! " 

"Oh, but he will get hurt!" put in 
Mother Bear. 

" It will do him good ! " said Father Bear ; "it will teach him that fathers and 
mothers know best ! Now we will go and see the peacocks ! " 

Away tramped Father Bear and Mother Bear, leaving Little Bear climbing the 
hill alone. Up and up climbed Little Bear. The hill seemed longer to him than 
before. At the top he waited a minute, then waved his arms and counted, "One, 
two, three — here — I — go ! " 

Little Bear started down the hill all right. His feet came plunk — plunk — plunk 
on the hard path, exactly as if his father were on one side and his mother on the 
other. But the next thing Little Bear knew, his feet were going too fast ! — plunk 
— plunk — plunk — plunkety — plunkety — plunkety — plunk ! Little Bear wished 
his father were on one side and his mother on the other. He was afraid he was 
going to fall ! It seemed as if the path tried to hit him in the face ! And the 
next that Little Bear knew, his feet got away and landed him bump-bump, ker— 
smash! on the hard, hard path, and over he rolled in the dust and dirt until he 
reached the bottom of the hill ! 

Mother Bear had been looking over her shoulder, and that is how it happened 
that she reached the bottom of the hill almost as quickly as did Baby Bear. 

"Poor little lamb! " she said, and she took him up and tried to comfort him. 



HIS FEET GOT AWAY AND LANDED HIM ON 
THE HARD PATH." 



I9U-] 



FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK 



651 



" Oh, my nose, my nose, my nose!" wailed Baby Bear, and, sure enough, Little 
Bear's pretty little nose was black and blue in three places, and his head was 
covered with bumps. Mother Bear kissed every one of the bumps. 

Baby Bear cried so loud, loud, loud, Father Bear was afraid the keeper of the 
park might waken and come running. " There, there ! " comforted Father Bear, 
" didn't I tell you fathers and mothers knew best? " 

Just then, a voice from across the duck-pond called, "Papa! Papa! Papa! 
come quick! Here are three bears ! And, oh, oh, one of them is a little bear! " 

When Father Bear looked around, there was Goldilocks pointing toward Little 
Bear, and shouting louder than ever, "Oh, come and catch the little bear! I 
want him for a pet ! " 

Quick as a wink, Father Bear snatched up Little Bear in his arms, and ran out 
of that park, with Mother Bear close at his heels. The two big bears did n't stop 
running until they were in the woods. 

There they stopped to take breath and to look behind them, and then, when 
they saw that no one was following them, and that they were quite safe, Father 
Bear stood Little Bear up in front of him and brushed the sand and dirt off of Little 
Bear's fur coat, and then he took Little Bear down to the brook and washed his 
face. After that, Mother Bear put some leaves on his poor, hurt nose ; and he 
was a good Little Bear the rest of that day. 

And now, when Little Bear sometimes remembers that day in the park, he 
takes his little paw and gently rubs his head where the bumps were, and says : 
" Fathers and mothers know what is best for their children." 




6AHArt«f«> 



'FATHER BEAK SNATCHED UP LITTLE BEAR, AND RAN OUT OF THAT PARK." 



N 



ATURE and SCIENCE 



EDITED BY 



s 



£TZn>^RD FBICELOW 





SIOUX INDIANS OF MISSOURI CROSSING A STREAM IN THEIR "TUB-BOATS, OR "BULL-BOATS. 
These boats were made from bull-buffalo hides drawn over a stout, roughly made frame of wood. 



THE SMALL WATER CRAFT OF THE AMERI- 
CANS OF YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY 

However interesting it might prove to study the 
development of small water craft in the order in 
which they have come into use, the writer has 
found it impossible to do so because he has been 
unable to procure the necessary information. But 
we know that it was not always convenient, nor 
even comfortable, for the Sioux Indians of our 
Middle West to swim across a stream, nor was it 




THE SIMPLEST FORM OF DUGOUT. 
Used by the Hupa Indians of northern California for smooth, inland 
waters. 

handy for him to paddle a heavy canoe to the 
opposite side of a smooth body of water. So he 



made a "tub-boat" by stretching one of the buf- 
falo hides, plentiful in those days, over a stout 
frame of wood. There is nothing graceful about 
these rough-looking "boats," but they were light 
in weight and served their purpose, except that 
they were not easily made to go straight across a 
stream, and that they occasionally capsized. They 
were propelled mostly by single hand paddles, or 
a longer paddle which could be worked easily 
from side to side or — to give the most telling 
stroke— directly "a-stern." These skin tubs are 
from four to five feet in diameter, and not quite 
two feet deep. The hair was not well scraped 
from the hides, so the boats were dark ugly-look- 
ing things. 

The Hupa Indians of northern California 
made a simple form of dugout— a tree trunk 
stripped of all bark, square at both ends — a good 
carrier but a poor craft for speed. The well- 
modeled dugout of the Louisiana Indians was 
made in a similar way, by burning the inside and 
chopping out the charred wood with a stone adz, 
but they produced a boat serviceable for fishing 
purposes, and for carrying a heavy load. The size 
of these dugouts was limited only by the size of 
the tree trunk which they could find near enough 
to the water to be easily launched. 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



653 



In strong" contrast with these plain dugouts, 
we have the curved and highly decorated fishing- 
canoe of the Haida Indians of the far north, off 
the Alaskan coast. This also is dug out from a 
log of great dimensions, a canoe in the National 
Museum being about fifty feet in length. The pe- 
culiar "eye" decoration on the "starboard" bow is 
painted in black and red, leaving the yellowish, 
natural color of the wood to take its place in the 
pleasing color scheme. 

At a place where no large trees are available, 
and where seal and walrus are abundant, we find 
some interesting skin boats, like those from 
Kadiak Island. The construction of these is a 
marvel of Eskimo genius, and is excelled only by 
the storm-defying kayak of the Greenland Es- 
kimo. A harpoon is tightly held under the cords 




plete available report upon Eskimo boats and 
boat-building. He tells us that the umiak of the 
Greenlanders, an open, skin boat, was originally 
propelled by paddles, but slender blade-oars are 




A FIFTEEN-FOOT SKIN BOAT OF THE ESKIMOS OF 
KADIAK ISLAND, ALASKA. 

now used. The steering was done from the stern 
with a broad-bladed paddle. In ancient times, 
sails were sometimes used. These were made by 
sewing grass-mats together, and supporting them 
on two long sticks, stayed by guy-ropes of skin 
to the sides of the boat. We may still see deer- 
skin and sealskin sails used on these boats, and, 
occasionally, canvas, which has been procured 
from the traders. Some of the Bering Strait 



MAKING A LOUISIANA DUGOUT FISHING-CANOE. 
This was dug out with a stone adz after being burned in places. It 
was well formed, outside and in, but the whole gunwale was in a horizon- 
tal plane; that is, it had no graceful curve at bow or stern, but was in 
one even plane along its upper edge or "gunwale." 

which cross the deck, and, to protect the sailor 
from the waves, a thick, oil-soaked skirt is pulled 
up under his armpits, while his body stops up the 
manhole in the deck as a cork would stop a bottle. 
This "skirt" is not a part of his dress. It is the 
skirt of his boat, and is made fast to its rim 
about the manhole ; it may be tucked down or 
pulled up as occasion may require. 




"^%T«3^ 



AN ELABORATELY DECORATED, BEAUTIFULLY MODELED, 

FISHING-CANOE. 

This was used by the Haida Indians on the coast of Alaska. 

Mr. E. W. Nelson, of the United States Biolog- 
ical Survey, has given probably the most com- 




THE STORM-DEFYING, SKIN-COVERED KAYAK OF THE 
GREENLAND ESKIMO. 

boats, having less "sheer" (side) than others! are 
provided with sealskin flaps, about two feet wide, 
which are attached along the side rails, to be raised 
and supported by stout sticks in rough weather, 
or folded down within the boat at other times. 

So far as I can ascertain, the North American 
Indian never made nor used a sail on any of his 
boats. He did, however, make the most graceful 
and picturesque canoe ever seen on this continent 
— the birch-bark canoe. These water travelers 
were made of the bark of the birch, which, when- 
ever possible, was stripped off in one long piece. 
This strip of semi-cylindrical bark was wrapped 
about a frame of spruce and bound to the frame 
with deer thongs, and sewed up along the curve 
at bow and stern with the same material. There 



654 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



[May, 



were many shapes and sizes of these beautiful 
canoes. 




THE GRACEFUL AND PICTURESQUE BIRCH-BARK WATER 
CRAFT OF THE PASSAMAQUODDY INDIANS OF MAINE. 

At Pyramid Lake, in the treeless Nevada des- 
ert, we find the Ute Indians usine boats made 




THE LOG RAFT USED BY SETTLERS, LUMBERMEN, AND 

RIVER DWELLERS. 

A "carryall" for short distances in smooth waters. 

from long reeds. I have been shown, by one who 
has traveled much in South America, pictures of 



grass boats, with a sail, that are used by the na- 
tives on Lake Titicaca, Bolivia. These boats, 
when thoroughly water-soaked, must be hauled up 
on the shore to dry for a week or so, when they 
are again ready for service. I conclude that the 
reed boats of Nevada must be treated in a similar 
way. 

We might give a long list of boats and canoes 
made by the white man. The reader is familiar 
with the common rowboat, the racing '"outrigger," 
the cedar canoe, the life-saving boat with double 
sides and water-tight compartments, and the 
clumsy yawl that forms a necessary part of the 
outfit for the sailing-vessel. 




A TULE GRASS "BALSA." 
Used by the Ute Indians of Pyramid Lake, Nevada. 

One of the latest models in small-boat construc- 
tion is the vapor launch, using gasolene in an 
engine of one or two horse-power that carries the 
craft along at a speed of more than six miles an 
hour. A gasolene engine runs only one way; that 
is, it does not "reverse," as a steam-engine does. 
To meet this difficulty, the boat has a reversing 
lever attached to the propeller, and by it the 
blades of the propeller are reversed, and the boat 
then moves backward.— Harry B. Bradford. 








A LATE MODEL OF A GASOLENE PLEASURE BOAT. 



I9I3-] 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



655 



THE ROCKING STONE OF TANDIL 

On the last day of February, 191 1, one of the 
most interesting of natural phenomena in the 
world, the great rocking stone of Tandil, situated 



year hundreds of visitors, in order to see it, made 
the long journey of two hundred and fifty miles 
by rail from Buenos Aires, the great South Amer- 
ican metropolis. 

Eva Cannon Brooks. 




THE KOCKING STONE OF TANDIL. 

in the Argentine Republic, lost its balance and 
fell, a ponderous mass, into the valley below. 

There are several of these curious stones scat- 
tered about the world, but this one was by far the 
largest, its weight having been seven hundred 
tons. Yet, so delicately was it poised on the 
edge of the precipice that it rocked in the wind, 
and the finger of a child could cause it to sway 
back and forth. A walnut placed at exactly the 
proper point could be cracked to perfection. 

So firmly fixed and so perfectly balanced was 
this huge boulder, that when one of the earliest 
dictators of the Argentine Republic, Rosas by 
name, wishing to test its wonderful balance, har- 
nessed more than one hundred oxen to it, he was 
unable to dislodge it. It was shaped like a mush- 
room, and of quartz-like structure, and the geo- 
logical books tell us that it was probably placed in 
its perilous position by glacial action. 

For many years, it belonged to the wealthy 
Santamarina family, but, recognizing the possi- 
bility of its being dislodged by the blasting at the 
Tandil quarries, the family deeded the rocking 
stone, together with the base of the hill and its 
immediate surroundings, to the municipality of 
Tandil, but even these precautions proved futile, 
for, although they succeeded in preventing quar- 
rying operations in its immediate vicinity, the 
blasting from other neighboring quarries eventu- 
ally dislodged it. 

Thousands of picture post-cards of this genuine 
wonder of the world have been sold, and every 



REMARKABLE MUD NESTS OF SWALLOWS 

The colony of cliff-swallows, a portion of which 
is shown in the picture, was situated on a low 
sandstone bluff that forms the bank of Pawnee 
Creek, in northeastern Colorado. Such colo- 
nies are not infrequent in these localities, and 
are often inhabited by many birds. While I did 
not count the nests at this place, I think there 
were nearly two hundred pairs of birds, and, as 
they were continually going in and out of the 
entrances, the bustle and activity may be imag- 
ined. At that date, June 7, a few nests were still 
under process of construction. Built, as the pic- 
ture shows, of mud pellets plastered against the 
face of the rock, taking advantage of the angles, 
the nests are strong, and may sometimes be re- 
moved whole, and will stand much handling. 
They have a lining of dry grass and sufficient 
feathers or other soft material to make a com- 
fortable bed. 




MUD NESTS OF SWALLOWS. 



The swallows devour many flies, mosquitos, 
and similar insects, and their nests should be pro- 
tected.— E. R. Warren. 



656 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



[May, 



THE CONSTELLATION VIRGO 

In the early part of May, at about nine o'clock in 
the evening, the constellation Virgo is in the 
southeastern part of the sky. Each day of the 



V Coma / 

BOOTES \berenfcesj LEO 

/* * * *■' 



<*;CORNUSi 



; Crater 



Hydra 



A MAP OF VIRGO AND SURROUNDING CONSTELLATIONS. 

month brings it farther westward. The principal 
star, Spica, is directly southward at nine o'clock 
about the twenty-fifth of the month. There is no 




THE IMAGINED OUTLINE OF A PERSON AS 
THE ANCIENTS SAW IT IN THE SKY. 

other star in that part of the heavens so conspicu- 
ous for its pure white light. Its beauty is in- 
creased if viewed with an opera- or field-glass. 



The constellation Virgo is very interesting in 
myths and poetry. A poet tells us that the ancients 
fancied the Virgin's home was once on earth, 
where she bore the name of Justice. This was in 
the golden age, when all men obeyed her. Later, 
in a silver age, her visits to men became less fre- 
quent, "no longer finding the spirits of former 
days." Still later, in a brazen age, the poet fan- 
cies that in the clangor of war she left the earth 
to make her abode in the sky. 

Justice, loathing that race of men, 

Winged her flight to heaven; and fixed 

Her station in that region 

Where still by night is seen 

The Virgin goddess near to bright Bootes. 

Almost directly north from Spica, and about 
one third of the way to the north star, is the glim- 




PHOTOGRAPH OF THE BRIGHT STARS IN THE CONSTELLA- 
TION OF COMA BERENICES. 
Made at the Lick Observatory in 1894 by E. E. Barnard. Exposure 
4 hours, 1 minute. 

mering little constellation known as Berenice's 
hair. By the aid of your opera-glass you can 
count from twenty to thirty of the largest stars 
in this cluster. Even the strongest telescopes do 
not show many more very bright stars. Professor 
Barnard sends the accompanying photograph, 
and writes to St. Nicholas : 

"The naked eye will see a large group of dim 
stars. These stars form part of the constellation 



1913] 



NATURE AND SCIENCE EOR YOUNG FOLKS 



657 



of Coma Berenices — Berenice's hair. Compara- 
tively few stars form the group, for the telescope 
does not show many more stars belonging to it. 
Even the photographic plate does not increase 
greatly the number of stars in it. The bright 
stars in the middle of the photograph are those 
seen with the naked eye. They doubtless form a 
physically connected cluster, like the Pleiades. 
The small stars forming the background of the 
sky in the picture doubtless have no connection 
with the cluster, and must be very far beyond it. 
The region is one rich in nebulae, but they are 
mostly small in appearance, and are lost in the 
reproduction." 

A TRAGEDY OF THE ROADSIDE 

It is well known that many wasps store their nests 
with spiders which are paralyzed by the wasps' 
sting, but not killed. Among these motionless but 
still living spiders, the wasp places an egg. The 
grub, or larva, hatched from the egg feeds on the 



keeping its front toward its enemy, and now and 
then springing at the wasp, which instantly 
evaded the deadly leap. For nearly ten minutes 




SPHEX PENNSYLVANICUS AND ITS SPIDER VICTIM. 

spiders. Some wasps seek only one kind of spider, 
others are not so particular. 

One summer, as I was collecting insects along 
a mountain road in Virginia, my attention was at- 
tracted by the antics of a large, blue-black wasp 
some distance ahead. She flew up, darted down, 
and with great activity circled around a spot in 
the road. She was one of the largest wasps that 
we have in this section (known to naturalists as 
Sphcx pennsylvanicus) , a wasp one and a quarter 
inches long and two and one eighth inches in wing 
expanse. Drawing nearer, I saw that the point 
of interest was a brown earth-spider allied to the 
big tropical My gale. I later found its body to be 
one inch long and one half inch wide. Its legs 
had a spread of three and one half inches. 

It was clear that the wasp had made the attack. 
The big spider stood nearly erect on its hindmost 
legs, with its long, sharp fangs extended in front, 
ready for use ; that it could use them with deadly 
effect was evident from the actions of the wasp. 
Quick as was the wasp, the spider was as active, 
Vol. XL.— 83. 




THE LIZARD i.SCELOPORUS UNDUI.ATUS) THAT JOINED IN 
THE FIGHT. 

they circled, attacked, and retreated. Once or 
twice the spider almost reached the wasp by a 
quick leap, and again barely faced about in time 
to escape the fatal thrust of the sting from the 
rear. Not once did the spider endeavor to run 
away. 

Finally, the unguarded moment came, and a 
quick rear thrust of the wasp's sting went home; 
the spider toppled to one side, striving in vain to 
whirl about, but a second thrust of the sting, and 
a third, more carefully placed, rendered it help- 
less; it fell over and its legs curled up. The wasp 
hovered over her victim, looking for any sign of 
activity, and giving several final stabs, as though 
to make sure. She then began to roll the spider, 
preparatory to gathering it up for a labored 
flight. She tucked in the limp legs, and tested 
the weight, with quivering wings. 

At this point, a movement on a fence rail near 
by attracted my attention to a gray lizard known 
as Sccloporus, and often seen about old fences. 
The lizard was standing at extreme attention, 




THE SO-CALLED "TARANTU- THE TARANTULA KILLER, 
LA," OR MYGALE, OF TEXAS. PEPS/S FORMOSA. 

head up and body raised on rigid fore legs, in- 
tently watching the fight in the road. As the 
wasp made a basket of her legs and with them 



658 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



[May, 



finally inclosed the big spider, there was a rush, 
a gray flash across the road, and the lizard 
grabbed both wasp and spider in its extended 
jaws. But the wasp, though taken at terrible 
disadvantage, sent home a thrust of that deadly 
sting as the reptile jaws crushed down. I saw 
a whirl of dust, a motionless spider, a struggling 




THE COMMON MUD-DAUBER, !>ELOrO£US UiMF.NTARIUS. 
AND ITS MUD NESTS. 

wasp with crushed body and broken wings tum- 
bling over and over, and a much grieved and sur- 
prised lizard rapidly opening and shutting its 
mouth, while its eyes blinked at the rate of five 
to the second. It slowly started back to the 
fence, without a look at the wasp, when, with my 
net, I captured lizard and spider and wasp. The 
last two I expanded and placed side by side, and 
on the preceding page you have their photographs, 
and that of the lizard. 

In Texas and adjacent parts, spider and wasp 
combats occur far more exciting than this, on ac- 
count of the size of the participants. There flies 
the huge tarantula killer, one of the largest wasps 
known, a blue-green insect with reddish wings, 
known as Pepsis formosa. A specimen in my 
collection measures three and one half inches 
across its wings, and its protruded sting is five 
sixteenths of an inch in length. It captures for 
nest storage the enormous Mygale spider, whose 
body is often as big as that of a mouse. In the 
photograph (see page 657) of a fine Texas speci- 
men of the tarantula killer, the sting is curved 
down, and its full length does not show. The 
picture of the Mygale shows the formidable, ex- 
tended fangs. 

The common mud-dauber wasps are also spi- 
der-wasps, though they catch other insects. 
Many readers have doubtless watched these slim- 
waisted, black-and-yellow wasps gathering their 
pellets of mud or working them carefully into 
place, to make their cylinder-shaped cell. The 
cell is filled with paralyzed spiders, an egg is 



laid therein, and the opening is plastered up. 
These spiders serve as food for the young grub 
until it is ready to transform into the resting, or 
pupa, stage. Sometimes a dozen or more cells 
are made in two or more layers, and all smoothed 
over; or one or two cells stand apart, hastily fin- 
ished and still showing the circling layers of mud 
as they were laid on by the wasp. This differ- 
ence is evidently due to the individuality of the 
wasp making the nest, for some show much more 
care and solicitude than others. The illustration 
shows a cell with rounded opening, ready for its 
store of spiders ; this unfinished cell is on the top 
of a smoothly finished group of seven cells in a 
double row. The two closed cells in the center 
also show the layers of mud, and one shows how 
the opening is plastered over. To the left is a 
group of six cells, cut open to show the stored 
spiders and pupa cases. A figure of the builder 
is also shown. This is the common black-and- 
yellow mud-dauber, known as Pelopceus cemen- 
tarius. 

One of the steel-blue wasps, Chalybion, is very 
particular as to the kind of spider she furnishes 
as food for the grub that she will never see, and, 
to save extra labor in driving these out of their 
retreats, she entangles herself slightly in the web 
of the spider. Her apparent struggles for free- 
dom draw the spider close enough for the wasp 
to seize it and fly away. I have seen cases, how- 
ever, where the Chalybion wasp became more 
deeply enmeshed in the clinging web than she 
had intended, — an accident of which the spider 
promptly took advantage by further entangling 
with new silk the struggling wasp, and finally 
capturing her. 

Ellison A. Smyth, Jr. 



^"BECAUSE- WE 
[WANT TO KNOW" 




LIGHTNING SEEN WHEN THE THUNDER 
IS NOT HEARD 

Lake Clear, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas : A few Sundays ago it rained all 
day here, but in the evening it cleared. For a while, 
everything was calm, then it began to lighten across the 
lake. It lighted up all the mountains, and appeared in 
four directions at once. We heard no thunder, and al- 
though it looked like heat lightning, it was quite cold. 
What was it ? 

Yours truly, 

Beatrice Whyte, 

It is a very common thing for distant lightning 
to be seen without hearing any thunder. When 
this occurs in the summer, we call it "heat light- 



I9 r 3.] 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



659 



j ning," although it is only the reflection in the 
,' clouds and in the sky of light that comes from 
! distant, ordinary lightning. Generally, the thun- 
der that starts from a distant flash is refracted 
as it passes through the atmosphere, very much 
as the sun's rays are refracted at sunset, and, 
like them, passes above our heads, leaving us in 
the shadow below. 

This is called an "acoustic" shadow. Such 
acoustic shadows may occur at sea. The fog- 
signal from a distant fog-horn, or siren, may not 
be heard because some hill, or building, or full- 
rigged vessel, intervenes. Sometimes, when a 
mass of air intervenes, the sound is deflected 
from a straight line, as when light goes through 
a prism. This is a subject that was extensively 
studied by Professor Joseph Henry, about i860, 
in order to improve the safety of vessels ap- 
proaching our coasts. As a rule, when the fog- 
signal is not heard at sea-level, it can be heard 
by climbing to the topmast. A great improve- 
ment has been made by changing from fog-bells 
in the air to fog-bells under water, since such bells 
send their sounds in straight lines, and much far- 
ther in water than in air. — C. A. 

cornucopia-shaped outside; bird's-nest 
appearance inside 

Minneapolis, Minn. 
Dear St. Nicholas : While walking in the yard at our 
summer home at Marquette, Wisconsin, I saw some plants 
with small, cornucopia-shaped pieces growing on them, 
which I am inclosing. Could you please tell me, through 
"Because We Want to Know," how these pieces are formed, 
and by what? I would be much interested to know. 
One of your readers, 

Barbara E. Lyon. 

The name of the cornucopia-shaped fungus is 
Cyatlius striatus Hoffm., commonly known as 




in the United States, but in Europe, Africa, and 
the island of Java. It may be easily identified by 
the striations, or lines, on the inside of the cup, 
it being the only species of bird's-nest fungus 
marked within by lines. In the bottom of the 
cup are the whitish, seed-shaped particles known 
as sporangia, or peridiola. The sporangia being 
borne in a cup-like receptacle, known as the perid- 
ium, give it the appropriate name of a bird's-nest 
fungus. — Stewart H. Burn ham. 

FLIGHT OF BUTTERFLIES 

Mii.STF.An, Ala. 
Dear St. Nicholas: A great deal of our time last sum- 
mer was spent out on the piazza enjoying the occasional 
breeze and the landscape. 

Something (which we could not explain) continually 




THE CORNUCOPIA-SHAPED FUNGUS. 

striate bird's-nest fungus. It is an interesting 
little plant and quite widely distributed, not only 



ONE OF THE LIGHT YELLOW BUTTERFLIES. 

attracted our attention, and so I am writing to you to know 
if you can help us in the matter. 

Vast numbers of yellow butterflies passed over the field 
in front of the house. We noticed them all summer long, 
almost every day. They always flew to the east. And I 
noticed that, in riding through the country, I could find the 
east easily, simply by watching for these yellow butterflies. 

Later in the season, these butterflies were noticed, in 
even larger numbers, flying in the same easterly direction. 
My little daughter and I counted eighty-two going by in 
fifteen minutes one afternoon. If you can explain this mat- 
ter to us, we will all be very glad and most grateful to you. 
Very sincerely, 

(Mrs.) Edwin L. Gardiner. 

The butterfly which you describe is, in all prob- 
ability, the "cloudless sulphur" (Callidryas 
cubitle). In the larval state it feeds upon Cassia 
and other legumes. It is well known to migrate 
in flocks from the southeast to the northwest in 
the spring, and from the northwest to the south- 
east in the autumn. The species is double-brooded, 
and is usually abundant in the Southern States, 
migrating each season up the coast to New Eng- 
land, and up the Mississippi Valley to Wisconsin. 
— L. O. Howard. 







The League pages offer, this month, a goodly assortment 
of "Family Traditions," ranging in style from "grave to 
gay, from lively to severe," — some of historic interest, 
some of adventure, some fanciful, some frankly humorous, 
and some that chronicle incidents of every-day home life. 
All are well told, and if the amusing tradition of the frog 
family won the gold badge, it was not merely because of 
the bright idea and the clever telling, but because its 
author had already won the silver badge, and so was in a 
line just one step ahead of most of her competitors. For 
again we must remind League members that the silver 
badge must be achieved before the gold one can be awarded. 

And if the prose-writers lead the van, this month, they 
are closely followed by the versifiers, with their tributes to 
May-time and the spring ; by the young artists, who show 
several admirable drawings ; and by the girl and boy pho- 
tographers, with their varied andj beautiful views " Along 
the River." 

As this issue of St. Nicholas begins the final half- 
volume for the current year, it is only fair to many new 
readers, who say they " would like to join the St. Nich- 
olas League, but don't know just how," that we should 



here explain, again, just what the League is and how to 
become a member of it. 

The St. Nicholas League is an organization of the 
young readers of the magazine, for mutual advancement 
and improvement — mainly along artistic or literary lines. 
Its motto is " Live to learn and learn to live." It stands 
for intellectual and spiritual growth and for higher ideals 
of life. " To learn more and more of the best that has 
been thought and done in the world " is one of itschiefaims. 

There are no dues or charges of any kind in connection 
with the St. Nicholas League. Members are simply 
expected to be readers of the League department, and to 
take an interest in its purpose and progress. It is a union 
of cheerful, fun-loving, industrious young people, bound 
together by worthy aims and accomplishments, and stim- 
ulated by a wide range of competitions that offer to every 
member. a chance of recognition and success. 

Any reader, not under six or over seventeen years old, 
may become a member, and a League badge and Informa- 
tion Leaflet will be sent upon application. The conditions 
of the competitions are fully set forth on the final page of 
the League, each month. 



PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 159 

In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered. 

PROSE. Gold badge, Rebecca Hubbard Wilder (age 14), Denver, Col. 

Silver badges, Marjorie Gleyre Lachmund (age 17), Portland, Ore. ; Elizabeth Diller (age 11), Carlisle, Pa. ; Susan 

B. Nevin (age 15), Sewickley, Pa. ; Daniel B. Benscoter (age 12), Chattanooga, Tenn. 

VERSE. Gold badge, Emily S. Stafford (age 15), Millbrook, N. Y. 

Silver badges, Elsie Emery Glenn (age 17), West Philadelphia, Pa.; Emanuel Farbstein (age 15), Pittsburgh, Pa. ; 

Elisabeth "Elting (age 12), Whitesboro, N. Y. 

DRAWINGS. Gold badge, Walter K. Frame (age 17), Pittsburgh, Pa. 

Silver badges, Gladys Culver (age 14), Montrose, Cal. ; Margaret Hanscom (age 14), Rumford, R. I. 

PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badge, Alexander Scott (age 17), Rome, Italy. 

Silver badges, Marjorie Taylor (age 16), Philadelphia, Pa.; Creswell Micon (age 15), Washington, D. C. ; Gladys 

E. Livermore (age 13), New York City ; Portia Wagenet (age 16), Oakland, Cal. 

PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badge, Jean F. Benswanger (age n), Milwaukee, Wis. 

PUZZLE ANSWERS. Gold badge, Ruth Adele Ehrich (age 13), New York City. 

Silver badges, Julius Brenner (age 13), Philadelphia, Pa. ; Albert Gerry Blodgett (age 14), Lyndonville, Vt. 




ALONG THE RIVEU. BY CRESWELL MICON, AGE 15. 

(SILVEK BADGE.) 



"ALONG THE KIVER." BY GLADYS E. LIVERMORE, AGE 13. 
(SILVER BADGE ) 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



661 



MAY-TIME 

BY EMILY S. STAFFORD (AGE 15) 

Gold Badge. {Silver Badge won March, 19 13) 
"Oh, tell me, oh, tell me, I pray, Mother Nature, 
Oh, what is that sound that I heard in yon tree ; 
That sound so rejoicing, that sound so uplifting, 

That sound so unbounded, so blithesome and free?" 
" 'T is the song of the oriole, high in the tree-top ; 
'T is the song of the robin, that flits o'er the lea. 
They sing of the springtime, their hearts overflowing, 
They sing of the beautiful world that they see." 

"Oh, tell me, oh, tell me, I pray, Mother Nature, 
From whence come those breaths of the fresh 
mountain air ; 
So filled with the sunshine, and scents of the flowers, 
That life, and new vigor, abound everywhere ?" 
"They come from the highland, the wood, and the valley, 
Where grasses and ferns have begun to unfold ; 
From each nook and cranny are May-flowers growing, 
Oh, hie to the woodland, her glory behold." 

"Oh, tell me, oh, tell me, I pray, Mother Nature, 
Oh, why is all Nature so joyful to-day?" 

"All Nature rejoices because it is springtime, 
The world is rejoicing because it is May." 

A FAMILY TRADITION 

BY SUSAN B. NEVIN (AGE 1 5) 

{Silver Badge) 
Over a hundred years ago, one bright afternoon, a lady 
was sitting just inside her door, sewing busily. 

In those days, every one had their doors divided in 
half, and the different parts could be opened separately. 




41 




"along the river." by Alexander scott, age 17. 
gold badge. (silver badge won oct., i9io.) 

On that day, the lower half was closed and the upper 
half wide open, to let in the sunshine and fresh air. 

Presently a drunken Indian came down the street, 
swaggering from side to side, and brandishing a 
tomahawk above his head. He paused outside the 



door, and, suddenly raising his arm, threw the ugly 
weapon straight for the head of the lady. She, uncon- 
scious of the danger, did not move, but her husband, 
who had entered the room and had been watching the 
Indian's movements, rushed across the floor, and threw 
the door closed just as the tomahawk struck it and 
buried itself deep in the wood. Opening the door, the 
Indian, now in a rage, sprung upon him, and a sharp 
struggle followed. Finally, however, the disturber of 
peace was thrown back into the street. 

That lady was one of my ancestors, and the story has 
come down through the family, told first to one and 
then to his children. For many years, the tomahawk 
was kept as a curiosity. 




' ALONG THE RIVER." EV MARJORIE TAYLOR, AGE 16. 
(SILVER BADGE.) 



A FAMILY TRADITION 

BY REBECCA HUBBARD WILDER (AGE 14) 

Gold Badge. {Silver Badge won April, 1912) 
In the garden back of the king's palace lived the most 
aristocratic, frog family in all the country. 

One morning, the littlest frog had a startling piece 
of news to tell his brother. "I heard the gard'ner's boy 
talkin'," he confided, "an' he said as no one was any 
good 'less they had a family tradition, an' I know we 
have n't none, 'cause I know where Ma keeps every- 
thing, and it ain't there." 

The middle-sized frog told the big frog, and the big- 
frog referred the matter to Mrs. Frog. She had no 
sooner heard about it, than she called to Mr. Frog: 

"My dear, have we a family tradition?" 

"Sure," returned Mr. Frog, "you just wait half a 
shake of a tadpole's tail, and I '11 tell you about it. 

"You see," he began, in a voice hoarse from many 
night concerts, "the tradition is about your granddad's 
aunt's uncle's nephew's cousin's great-great-great-great- 
stepma's son's granddad. And what 's more," he con- 
tinued with pride, "it is n't in prose, but in rhj'me." 

"An' what did he do?" interrupted the baby frog. 

"You just listen, and you '11 know," returned Mr. 
Frog. With that, he began to quote "A Frog He 
Would A- Wooing Go." 

All the frog family, excepting the baby, heaved a 
great sigh when he finished. 

"How could he have a gran'chile if a, lily w'ite duck 
came an' gobbled him up?" the baby objected. 

"Oh, that 's all right, that 's all right. I don't see 
how, myself, but he did ; so that 's all right," was the 
reassuring answer. 

So the baby frog hopped away, entirely satisfied with 
Father Frog's story of the family tradition. 



662 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



[May, 



MAY-TIME 

BY ELSIE EMERY GLENN (AGE I/) 

(Silver Badge) 
Do you know why the wanton wind whispers so sly 

To the babbling brooklet that chatters all day ? 
Do you know why it frolics with prankish delight 

As it whispers, then, elfin-like, dances away? 
Can you guess? You can't help it, it 's all in the weather 
Why the brook and the silly wind whisper together ; 
(And they need n't, for every one knows it!) 
It 's May ! 

Do you know why it lingers awhile in the wood 

Where the mother-tree's gentle arms soothingly sway, 

As she rocks her wee baby leaves, tender and green, 
And sings them sweet melodies all the long day? 

As she croons and she dreams until surely it seems 

That all life is nothing but sunshine and dreams? 

It 's to tell her the wonderful secret — 
It 's May ! 

LISZT, THE GREAT MASTER 

BY MARJORIE GLEYRE I.ACHMUND (AGE 1 7) 

(Silver Badge) 
Our family tradition is still in its infancy ; but it prom- 
ises to be handed down through the following genera- 
tions, and treated with the awed respect that such 
stories visually inspire. 

My father was a young man studying at the Conser- 
vatory in Cologne, when the "new school" of music, 
with Liszt and Wagner as its chief supporters, was 




"ALONG THE RIVER." (PINHOLE PHOTOGRAPH.) BY HAKRY R. TILL, 
AGE 17. (HONOR MEMBER.) 



creating a furore of opposition, led by Hiller and other 
conservative pedagogues of the old school. But Liszt 
taught on, apparently serenely unconscious of adverse 
criticism. 

Father had heard much of Liszt, but did not dare 
hope to study with him. One day a Liszt pupil told 



him such glowing tales of the great master, that Father 
was quite carried away by his enthusiasm. When he 
urged Father to accompany him to Weimar and study 
with Liszt, Father explained, rather wistfully, that the 
price such a teacher must charge would be far beyond 
his purse. But when told that Liszt accepted no 
pecuniary recompense, Father gladly agreed, though 
oppressed by the doubt that Liszt might not accept him 
as a pupil. 

The organist at the palace in Weimar, to whom 
Father had a letter of introduction, took him, one 
afternoon, to the "Hofga'crtnerei," where Liszt resided. 
They waited in an anteroom while Pauline, the old house- 
keeper, summoned "der meister." A few minutes 
elapsed. Then the door reopened, and Liszt himself 
stood in its frame — a fascinating figure. His hair was 
gray, his shoulders somewhat bowed, his face kindly, 
yet strong and expressive. He was clad in black, wear- 
ing a velvet sack-coat and low slippers. He greeted 
Father with paternal kindness, and, after some desul- 
tory conversation, requested him to play. The testi- 
monials Father had were laid aside, for Liszt's motto 
was "recommend yourself." 

So Father played. The master stood near, watching 
his hands. Presently he stopped him, and said : "Well, 
come to-morrow when the other pupils will be here." 
Father left in an exultant frame of mind, for he had 
been accepted as a pupil by Liszt — the great master ! 

That was Father's first introduction to Liszt, and it 
was indeed a memorable occasion. 



A FAMILY TRADITION 

BY HELEN HAYNIE (AGE 14) 

There are few traditions connected with our family, 
but of those few, the favorite is one concerning the 
origin of Rucken, my paternal grandmother's maiden 
name. 

Long, long ago, before William I conquered England, 
Germany was not a single great country, as it is now, 
but was divided into little provinces, each of which was 
ruled over by a prince. There was great rivalry be- 
tween these princedoms, and many battles were fought 
over their petty quarrels. 

In one of these battles, a great prince was severely 
wounded. His army, discouraged by the loss of their 
leader, was soon forced to flee, leaving the prince to 
die of his wounds on the field. 

One of his soldiers was a young man. He had almost 
gained shelter, when the image of his fallen commander 
rose in his mind, and, after hesitating a minute, he 
turned to run down the field again. The enemy halted 
in astonishment. Was this one man going to face thou- 
sands? But no, he ran straight to the prince, threw 
him across his shoulders, and, amidst cries of admira- 
tion from friend and foe alike, bore him back to safety 

In a few days, the prince recovered, and called the 
young man to him. Then, in the presence of all his 
nobles, he gave him a new name — Rucken, or "strong- 
back." 

A SONG OF SPRING 

BY ELISABETH EI.TING (AGE 1 2) 

(Silver Badge) 
S means springtime, jolly and gay, 
P means the pastures, light green to-day : 
R is the rain, come to freshen the flowers, 
I is the iris, blooming for bowers ; 
N, the night wind, whistling a song, 
G means gladness all the day long. 



I9I3-] 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



663 





BY WILLIAM E. DART, AGE 17. 



BY BETTY LOWE, AGE 14. 



jttj m -^ §i ■air* /' 



BY MYRA FRASER, AGE 13. 




BY KATHEKINE PAR 



BY MARION BENNETT, AGE 14. 




BY ELIOT GRANT FITCH, AGE 17. 




BY MARION ADAMS, AGE II. 



'ALONG THE RIVER.' 



A FAMILY TRADITION 

BY DANIEL B. B.ENSCOTER (AGE 12) 

(Silver Badge) 
Tradition tells us that, many years ago, on the farm of 
my great-grandfather, an exciting and unusual event 
took place. Most of the Indians that inhabited the then 
scarcely unbroken wilderness near where the city of 
Wilkes-Barre now stands were friendly. One tribe, 
however, was not, and many of the settlers were being 
captured. 

One day, as my great-grandfather was splitting logs 



(a wedge being driven at either end of the log, forcing 
it open), four Indians, whom he at once recognized as 
being suspicious characters, appeared. Under a pre- 
text, they asked him to return to their village with 
them, where they would in reality have made him a 
prisoner. 

He himself suspected as much, but as his gun was at 
the house, he resolved upon a ruse. He told" them he 
would go with them if they would help him split the 
log, and so, after placing their fingers in the crack ready 
to pull, he promptly drove out the wedge, and the log 
closed fast upon them — holding them prisoners. 



664 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



[May, 



MAY-TIME 

BY HENRIETTA PERRINE (AGE llj 

Make a dainty little basket, 
Then dampen here and there, 

Next fill with fragrant posies, 
But handle with great care. 

Now make a pretty handle 

(Which must be strong and neat), 
Be sure and fasten strongly, 

Then the basket is complete. 




"ALONG THE RIVER." BY PORTIA WAGENET, AGE 1 6. 
(SILVER BADGE.) 

Now run softly to the door-step, 

Hang quickly, make no noise ; 
Ring the bell, and scamper 

To the waiting girls and boys. 

A FAMILY TRADITION 

BY CORINNE CASSARD (AGE 17) 

There are many traditions concerning one of my an- 
cestors, the brave French admiral Jacques Cassard. I 
believe my favorite is one which shows his' devotion 
and loyalty to his king, Louis XIV, though that mon- 
arch was treating him with the utmost ingratitude. 

Admiral Cassard, commanding a squadron of nine 
ships, had increased the glory of France and gained 
large sums of money for the country's treasury by suc- 
cesses in the West Indies. These aroused the jealousy 
of other naval officers, and they carried many un- 
founded tales against Cassard to court, with the result 
that an officer was despatched to assume command of 
Cassard's fleet, and return with it to France. 

Naturally, the mortification of the brave admiral was 
very deep. Suffering as he was from a severe wound 
in the foot, received in his country's defense, he must 
have felt doubly the king's ingratitude. 

In the homeward journey, however, an incident oc- 
curred which showed that it would take more than in- 
gratitude to destroy Cassard's devotion to his sovereign. 
An English squadron was sighted, but the admiral who 
had been placed over Cassard was afraid of being 
worsted, and signaled his ships to avoid action. Cas- 
sard immediately asked permission to attack, but was 



refused. Although he knew he would be severely pun- 
ished for disobedience, he turned to his second in 
command, and exclaimed: "My duty to my sovereign 
overrides my duty to my admiral, and I take it that my 
real duty is to fight His Majesty's enemies wherever I 
see them." Thereupon, he bore down upon the enemy, 
fighting till night put an end to the engagement, which 
resulted in the capture of two English ships by Cas- 
sard's squadron. 

This shows the spirit of Cassard, in whose memory 
one may now find the French cruiser Cassard. 

A SONG OF CITY SPRING 
{Tune: "The Purse-proud Pineapple") 

BY EMANUEL FARBSTEIN (AGE 15) 

(Silver Badge) 
'T is spring in the city ; 

The poet, ecstatic, 
Indites joyful ditty 

And melodramatic. 

He raves of the springtime, 

Soul-raising, inspiring ; 
The "Let 's-have-a-fling" time, 

With zeal that 's untiring. 

Meanwhile 

A tar-kettle, boiling, 

To him its smoke sending, 
His temper is spoiling 

By torture unending. 

A din his ears greeting, — 

The huckster's hoarse carol, 
A loud carpet-beating, 

And swift-rolling barrel. 

Some creditors, calling, 

Their bills have presented ; 
An infant's loud bawling 

Half drives him demented. 




MY BEST FRIEND. BY LOUISE GRAHAM, AGE 14. 

To the reader: 
Of falsehood, abjure all ; 

Don truth, sacred turban : 
Is spring that is rural 

Not far from spring urban ? 



I9I3-] 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



665 



A SONG OF SPRING 

■ BY ELSA A. SYNNESTVEDT (AGE 15) 

(Honor Member) 
Oh, how can I write of the verdant grass 

When the snow lies deep on the frozen ground? 
And how of a chattering brook — that sleeps 

With the icy fetters of winter bound ? 
And how of the trees in bloom — that stand 

With glittering frost and icicles crowned? 




"MY BEST FRIEND. BY MARGARET HANSCOM, AGE 14. 

(SILVER BADGE.) 



Oh, how can I sing of the balmy air 

When the wind is sharp, and bitter, and shrill ? 
And how of a "soft cerulean sky" 

When clouds hang low o'er the brow of the hill ? 
And how can I sing of the fresh spring flow'rs 

In a world all gloomy, and gray, and chill ? 

But hark! what is that? A child's merry laugh 
Peals forth on the air with a jubilant ring ; 

It tells of a spirit buoyant and free, 

And the joy that contentment ever will bring. — 

Regardless of menacing storm and wind, 
Hearts may be full of the beauty of Spring. 

A FAMILY TRADITION 

BY D. Q. PALMER (AGE 1 7) 

(Honor Member) 
George Willard sat chewing his pen handle, and frown- 
ing perplexedly at the paper before him. He sighed, and, 
looking up at the clock, saw that there were only ten 
more minutes in which to finish the examination. 
George was taking a competitive examination for a 
college scholarship. He would have to work his way 
through college if he went at all, and a scholarship, 
giving free tuition, would be of great assistance. 

He was taking the last examination, and was on the 
last question. But, unfortunately, he had not prepared 
for it, and knew nothing about it. He realized that this 
question counted twenty points, which, if lost, might 
spoil his chances for the scholarship. He looked around 
the room. Every other contestant was writing busily. 

Just then, unknown to its owner in a seat near 
George, a slip of paper fluttered to the floor. George's 
eyes fell on it unwittingly, and he read the answer to 
the last question. He quickly snatched his eyes away, 
but the mischief was done. George did some quick 
thinking in the next three minutes. He saw his chances 
of success returning. Nobody had seen him, and he 
now could answer the question. But Conscience pro- 
Voi.. XL.— 84. 



tested that he had never yet cheated, and that such an 
action would be wrong. While his decision was thus 
wavering, the memory of an old family tradition flashed 
through his mind. 

His great-great-grandfather had once been a United 
States senator, especially noted for his fearless and 
honest actions. At one time, when he was deep in 
debt, through the dishonesty of his partner, there was 
a bill before the Senate which he was convinced was 
wrong. He was offered a sum large enough to pay the 
greater part of his debts if he would vote for the bill. 
He refused, but shortly after paying his liabilities, he 
died, almost in poverty. 

George quickly decided to follow his grandfather's 
example, and handed in the paper with the last ques- 
tion unanswered. 

Two weeks later, George learned that he had won the 
scholarship by a very scant margin. 

A FAMILY TRADITION 

BY MARION LOVEKYN ROGERS (AGE 8) 

When my great-great-grandfather was a little boy, 
which was many, many years ago, he liked pie the best 
of anything, which is the case with all boys. 

It was near Thanksgiving Day, so, on Thanksgiving 
morning, all he had for breakfast, and all he ate, was 
pie, and I guess he ate his fill, too. 

That was the only day of the year that he was al- 
lowed to have only pie for breakfast. 

And when he grew up and was married, his children 
had pie, and they grew up and had the same. So 




A HEADING FOR MAY. BY GLADYS CUL.VER, AGE 14. 

(SILVER BADGE.) 

Mother had pie, and I suppose my children will all have 
pie, on Thanksgiving Day, for breakfast. 

And now we have pie every Thanksgiving and 
Christmas, and I hope we will always keep up this 
family tradition. 

I think this is a good family tradition, and I hope it 
will keep till the world comes to an end. 



666 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



[May, 



MAY-TIME 

BY RUTH MEERITT (AGE 1 5) 

Tho' gently Summer's streams may flow, 
And lightly fall the Winter's snow, 
Give me the month when flowers blow — 
The May-time. 

Tho' Autumn flaunt her flaming trees 
And softly sighs the Summer breeze, 
Give me the month of birds and bees — 
The May-time. 

When all the world with joy o'erflows, 
When in the fields the daisy grows, 
The sunset sky with color glows, 
In May-time. 

When in the pastures cattle low, 
When to the woods the children go, 
When through white orchards breezes blow, 
'T is May-time. 




"A HEADING FOR MAY. BY WALTER K. FRAME, AGE 17. 

GOLD BADGE. (SILVER BADGE WON JUNE, 1912.) 

THE FAMILY TRADITION 

BY ELIZABETH DILLER (AGE II) 

{Silver Badge) 
A long time ago, before the Revolutionary War, in a 
little clearing near the place where Lancaster, Penn- 
sylvania, now stands, there stood a log-cabin. In this 
humble home lived a family of German settlers. They 
had cut down trees and cleared enough of the land, so 
that now they had several nice fields under cultivation. 
The grass had been cut and heaped in piles in the sun. 
The field of corn was growing nicely when, one morn- 
ing, the father and mother went into the field to culti- 
vate the corn, taking their guns with them, and left 
the little girl to do the house work and mind her baby 
brother. After a while, she heard guns, and, upon 
going to the door, the little girl saw a band of Indians 
firing upon her father and mother. She saw her father 
and mother slain. Then the Indians came toward the 
log-cabin, and the little girl stole out a back way, car- 
rying her brother in her arms. They hid under one of 
the piles of hay. The little girl had to put her hand 
over her brother's mouth to keep the sound of his cries 
from the hearing of the Indians. In the evening, she 
looked out and saw the house had been burned, but that 
the Indians had gone. She took her baby brother in 
her arms and went to her nearest neighbor, several 



miles away. When she got there, she was exhausted. 
The kind family cared for them until they were old 
enough to earn their own living. 

This little girl I have spoken of was my father's 
great-grandmother. My father's grandmother said that 
she had often heard her mother cry out in her sleep, 
and that then she was dreaming over this scene I have 
told you about. 

A SONG OF SPRING 

BY RUTH DE CHARMS SEWARD (AGE II) 

When I look out on Winter's snow 
And hear the wild wind's whistle blow, 
When little birds no longer sing, 
I cannot write "A Song of Spring." 

If I said, "Now the trees are green, 

And butterflies are flying too ; 
And roses now their fragrance give,"- — ■ 

You see, it would not be quite true. 

So, as I think I said before, 

I cannot think of anything, 
When winter's snow lies deep around, 

To write — about "A Song of Spring." 

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 Eleanor W. Haasis 

Horace Woodmanse 
Elizabeth P. Smith 
Tleeta Dudley 
Nathaniel Dorfman 
Robinette Ward 
Louise Gorey 
Helen E. Walker 
May E. Wishart 
Silvia Saunders 
Marjorie Thirer 
Marjorie Skiff 
Helene M. Roesch 
Winifred Phelan 
Gwendolyn 

Frothingham 
Harold F. Hopper 
Miriam Newcorn 



Mary E. Wells 

Esther Goodale 
Alice Heyl 
Grace C. Freese 
Alfred Fabbri 
Claire H. Roesch 
Hedwig Zorb 
Caroline MacFadden 
Elizabeth Skeele 
Ruth J. Henika 
Helen J. Barker 
Margaret Finck 
Dorothy M. Hoogs 
Thyrza Weston 
Elizabeth C. Carter 
Barbara Loeb 



Virginia E. Gowen 
C. Adolph Bush 
Martha H. Comer 
Frances D. 

Pennypacker 
Halah Slade 
Edna M. Guck 

VERSE, 1 

Wallace R. Bostwick 
Ethel M. Feuerlicht 
Fay E. Doyen 
Edna Hills 
Anna Charap 
Olga Owens 
Jeannette Ridlou 
Elizabeth M. Duffield 




MY BEST FRIEND. BY FRANCES M. KOEWING, AGE 17. 

(HONOR MEMBER.) 



Coralie Austin 
Louise R. Hewson 
Muriel Irving 
Archie Dawson 
Dorothy H. Mack 
Edith M. Coit 
Joe Mendelsohn 
Laura Wild 
Isabel E. Rathbone 
Alice P. Hackett 
Harriet Crawford 



Katharine W. Ball 
Catherine F. Urell 
Maybelle B. Wood 

PROSE, 2 

Michael Glassman 
Alice A. Woods 
Talmage MacLeod 
Phyllis Fraser 
Iman Sygman 



Morris Ryskind 
Bruce T. Simonds 
Elaine Manley 
Watson Davis 
Eleanor Johnson 
Marion K. Valentine 
Doris R. Wilder 
Helen J. Winans 
Lucile E. Fitch 
Arthur H. Nethercot 
Anita L. Grannis 



I9I3-] 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



667 



Alice Lindley 
Constance Quinby 
Marjory Wilson 
Jacques Souhami 
Josephine N. Felts 
Eleanor E. Carroll 
Cora L. Butterfield 
Anna R. Hoge 
Elizabeth C. Morrison 
Sherman Humason 
Isidore Helfand 
York Sampson 
Sarah L. Humphreys 
Mildred G. Wheeler 
Nellie Adams 
Vera T. Bloom 
Eva R. Mowitz 
Christina Phelps 
Isabel B. Peavey 
Mildred Willard 
Katherine Levy 
Erma V. Chase 
Mary V. Farmer 
Katharine V. Higley 
Myrtle A. Oltman 
Marian S. Waupun 
Edith V. Manwell 
Alice Chaffee 
Mary Smith 
Alice Trimble 
Dorothy C. Snyder 
Elsie L. Lustig 
Agnes Nolan 
Harriet W. McKim 
Frederic Arvin, Jr. 
Margaret Tildsley 
Ethel Warren Kidder 
Gwynne A. Abbott 
Ann Hamilton 

VERSE, 2 

Edith H. Walton 
Ruth White 
Helen M. Stiefel 
Annie H. Potter 
Armand Donaldson 
Virginia A. Mattox 
Lois Gubelman 
Mildred Avery 
Elsie Jenssen 
Edith S. Holihan 
Birdie Krupp 
Arthur L. Morsell 
Marion West 
Rose Kadishevitz 



DRAWINGS, 

Howard Sherman 
Hugo Stanger 



Hester Bedinger 
Martha H. Cutler 
Frances M. E. Patten 
Lavinia Riddle 
Margaret Brate 
Edgar Marburg, Jr. 
Carol Taylor 
Frances Eliot 
William T. Stoll 



Margaret Sanders 
Robert A. Browning 
Lucile G. Robertson 
Paulyne F. May 
Louise S. May 
George Lane 
Ethel Polhemus 
Philip W. Bradbury 
Margaret Dunham 




MY BEST FRIEND. B' 

VENETTE M. WILLARD, 

AGE 14. 



Stewart Bramman 
Hilda M. Cann 
Dorothy Sprague 
Lucie C. Holt 
Welthea B. Thoday 
Beatrice B. Sawyer 
Sarah Schatz 
Edith M. Smith 
Jacob White 
Dorothy Walter 
Marjorie Flack 
Isabelle B. Howland 
Catharine Grant 
Jeanne Dartiguenane 
E. Leslie Wathen 



DRAWINGS, 2 

Mac Clark 




"MY BEST FRIEND." BY ELIZABETH 
THOMPSON, AGE 14. 



PHOTOGRAPHS, 1 

Adelina Longaker 
Maude E. Hunt 
Robert Dean Clark 
Aubrey Wilson 
Edna D. Arnstein 
John O. Crane 
Katharine Bradley 
M. Alison Mclntyre 
Marie Rupp 
Charles Fligg 
Helen F. Neilson 
Louise M. Blumenthal 
Elgin F. Hunt 
Dorothea A. Worman 
Caroline F. Ware 
Dorothy V. Tyson 
Henrietta Hoffmann 
Mildred A. Hubbard 
Katherine D. Stewart 
William Schweitzer 
Alice Greene 
Joey C. Smith 
Harent T. E. Schuyler 
Harry Villard 
W. R. Spiller 
Laura L. Benz 
Alice Geoffrion 
Robert Harrington 
Harold Rodman 

Walters 
James W. Frost 
Dorothy Dorsett 
Marjorie Corbett 
Harold A. Fitzgerald 
Mary Comstock 
George Jefferson 
Elizabeth B. White 

PHOTOGRAPHS, 2 

Muriel Slawson 
William I. Zabriskie 
Althea Adams 
Martha Taylor 
Dennet Withington 
Elverton Morrison 
Eversley S. Ferris 
Laurence C. Andrews 
Blanche I. Storer 
Elizabeth Ball 
Louis F. Ranlett 



PUZZLES, 1 

Duncan Scarborough 
Philip Franklin 
Eugene Scott 
Leonore Lemmler 
Cora Goodkind 
Willard B. Purington 
Alfred W. Slade 
Joan Wilson 
Mary G. Porritt 
Elizabeth Robinson 



Hannah M. Ruley 
Florence E. Jones 
Barbara Crebbin 
Louise Parrish 
Marguerite Pearson 
Evan Synnestvedt 
Robert H. Wildman 
Edith Lucie Weart 
Margaret M. Horton 
Helen Fogg 
Gustav Diechmann 
Anthony Fabbri 



Eric Kraemer 
Lucia Hazzard 
Sam Bronsky 

PUZZLES, 2 
Donald McMaster 
Carol Webb 
Mary Flaherty 
Margaret Billingham 
Janet Durrie 
Ethel T. Boas 
Fannie Ruley 



PRIZE COMPETITION Wo. 163 

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 Honor Members, when the contribution 
printed is of unusual merit. 

Competition No. 163 will close May 10 (for foreign 
members May 15). Prize announcements will be made 
and the selected contributions published in St. Nicholas 
for September. 

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. 
Subject, "In the Orchard." 

Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred 
words. Subject, "My Best Summer Holiday." 

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue 
prints or negatives. Subject, "A Pleasant World." 

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. 
Subject, "Secrets," or a Heading for September. 

Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an- 
swer in full, and must be indorsed. 

Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set 
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas. 
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as explained on 
the first page of the " Riddle-box." 

Wild Creature Photography. To encourage the pur- 
suing of game with a camera instead of with a gun. The 
prizes in the "Wild Creature Photography" competition 
shall be in four classes, as follows : Prize, Class A, a 
gold badge and three dollars. Prize, Class B, a gold 
badge and one dollar. Prize, Class C, a gold badge. 
Prize, Class D, a silver badge. But prize-winners in this 
competition (as in all the other competitions) will not receive 
a second gold or silver badge. Photographs must not be 
of "protected" game, as in zoological gardens or game 
reservations. Contributors must state in a few words where 
and under what circumstances the photograph was taken. 

Special Notice. No unused contribution can be re- 
turned by us unless it is accompanied by a self-addressed 
and stamped envelop of the proper size to hold the manu- 
script, drawing, or photograph. 



RULES 

Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not, 
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and 
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member who 
has reached the age of eighteen years may compete. 

Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the 
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as 
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be 
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied, 
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the 
number of words should also be added. These notes must 
not be on a separate sheet, but on the 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 



The Letter-Box this month is given up mainly to 
letters from young readers who are living or visiting 
in far-away lands. And, as will be seen, this chain 
of friendly missives virtually encircles the globe, for 
here are delightful descriptions and messages from 
Japan, the Philippines, New Zealand, Italy, Switzer- 
land, Germany, France, Spain, and England. All the 
letters, too, are interesting in themselves, and all 
were as joyously received by St. Nicholas as the 
magazine was by their senders. We thank our young 
correspondents, every one. 

First on the list comes this charming long letter from 
a dear little Japanese girl, with a beautiful introductory 
note from her kind American friend. Our girl and boy 
readers will be interested in the detailed account of 
Japanese school life, and St. Nicholas is glad to wel- 
come back to its pages Hanano Inagaki Sugimoto, who 
became, while in America, an Honor Member of the 
St. Nicholas League. 

Aoyama, Tokio, Japan. 
My dear St. Nicholas : The accompanying letter was 
dictated to me by a little girl who is very ill. She 
has lived in America all her life, until three years ago, 
and while there was a most devoted reader of the St. 
Nicholas. Since being in Japan, she has missed it 
very much, and now that it is, once more, a regular 
visitor to her home, her delight insists on manifesting 
itself in a long letter, which I am afraid will not find a 
welcome in your busy rooms ; but as she is just recover- 
ing from an almost fatal illness, I had not the heart to 
discourage her. I have given you her exact words. 

Thanking you from my heart, for all you have been 
— and will be — to a homesick little girl, I am, 
With deep respect, 

Florence M. Wilson. 

I am a friend and co-laborer of the child's mother, 
in writing for Japanese magazines. 

My dear St. Nicholas : Perhaps you do not remember 
me, but I have a silver badge and a gold badge from the 
St. Nicholas League. I used to live in America, but 
my papa died, and Mama and Chiyono (that is my little 
sister) and I live here in Tokio. I used to cry when- 
ever I would think of home, but I don't now. I can 
never go back to America, and it can't be helped, so 
I '11 just have to stand it. 

This Christmas some one sent me you for a year, and 
now I would like to try for a prize, but I am too far 
away. But I am going to write a letter anyway, because 
Mama said perhaps you would like to know about my 
school. 

Well, the name of my school is Aoyama Gakko. 
That means "Green Mountain School." I suppose you 
think that is a funny name for a school in the city, but 
it is called that because this part of Tokio is on a hill, 
and there are lots of trees here. In the morning, a 
little before eight o'clock, we all have to be at the 
school. In the dark part of the year, we do not go 
until nine o'clock. The school is a big building, made 
of wood. It is new, and has glass windows just like an 
American house. We have 1935 pupils, and there are 
some more in the old building, and they will come in if 



any of us get sick or die. Then there is another build- 
ing, too, where the children are sent who can't keep up. 
I would n't like to be sent to that building. 

Well, when we go to the entrance, we step out of our 
wooden shoes, and slip on light straw sandals, called 
zori. Then we go to our classrooms. There are 
thirty-three in our building. We put our books away 
very neatly in our desks, and then we all go to the 
playground. That is a kind of court, with the buildings 
on three sides, and the wall and big gate on the other. 
Just as the bell rings for eight o'clock, we all arrange 
ourselves in rows, and the principal of the school stands 
up high on a platform. When a very sharp whistle 
sounds, we all bow to the principal very low, and he 
bows to us, but, of course, he bows a little bow. Then 
the whistle blows again, and we go to our own rooms 
and sit down at our desks. 

When our teacher comes in, we all get up and make 
a deep bow, then we sit down again and study one 
thing for forty-five minutes. Sometimes the teacher 
will ask us a question, but she does n't bother us much, 
and we just study. We have to, for if we don't keep 
up, we are crowded out, and then we can't get in ; and 
yet the government makes our parents send us to 
school ; so if we did not study, there would be an awful 
time. 

Well, at the end of forty-five minutes, we go out and 
play for fifteen minutes. Then the signal sounds, and 
we go in and study another study for forty-five minutes, 
and so on until twelve o'clock. Then we have our 
lunch. That is not served by the school. We carry it 
from home in a little box that has one on top of an- 
other, so the rice will not get mixed with the other 
things. We talk and have a nice time when we are 
eating. My grandma is a very old-fashioned lady, and 
very particular, and she thinks it is not polite to talk 
when we are eating, but my teacher says that it is the 
fashion now to think that it is good for our bodies. 
So, after he said that, we all like it very much. 

After lunch, we go on just as we do in the morning. 
We stay until three o'clock on three days of the week, 
and until four o'clock on two other days. On Saturday, 
we get out at twelve o'clock. When school is over for 
the day, we gather up our books, then we all stand up 
and bow to the teacher, then we march to the school 
gate, and all stand in rows and bow to the teacher 
again ; then we all go home. 

I expect you will think we study some funny things, 
for the government wants us to learn certain things, 
for every one of us has to be useful to the nation, even 
though I was born in America. The officer who visits 
our school said I could be more useful on that account 
— so, you see, I have to study very hard. 

We have arithmetic and geography and history, a 
good deal like my school in America, and we have pen- 
manship and composition and gymnastics, not a bit like 
the American schools. They are so different that I 
can't explain about them, but I can tell you about some 
of our other studies. On Monday, we have to study 
about great people who were poor and had no chance. 
We don't know who, of the very poorest people, may 
be great sometime, so we must always remember that. 
There have been many poor people in Japanese history 
who worked themselves into great positions. And in 
that study we learn about Lincoln and Napoleon. 

Then we learn all about how good and wise the em- 
• peror is, and how he is trying to do the best he can for 

every one of us, because we are his children. 
668 



THE LETTER-BOX 



669 



Then we have sewing, and making little boxes of pa- 
per and crape and silk, and all kinds of work with a 
needle. Sewing is very important, so we have double 
time for that. I just love to sew. 

On Tuesday, we study all about animals and nature 
and electric lights. In the afternoon we have sewing, 
penmanship, and gymnastics. 

On Wednesday, we have etiquette, arithmetic, draw- 
ing, penmanship, and singing. 

On Thursday, we have reading, geography, gymnas- 
tics, composition, and a long practice on the soroban. 
Perhaps you do not know what that is, so I will tell 
you. It is a little, long, flat box, with tiny spools sliding 
on tiny rods, up and down. One row means just things, 
the next ten things, and the next a hundred things. 
You have no idea how fast a person can count with a 
soroban. They are used in all the schools, and stores, 
and everywhere, and a man carries a little one in his 
pocket, just as he carries his lead-pencil. 

On Friday, beside the usual studies, we have Amer- 
ican dancing. It is taught by our sewing teacher, and 
is very different from our dancing school in America. 
Some one plays an organ, because that is a foreign 
instrument, and we all go to the time ; but it is very 
slow and not a bit like dancing. But it is very dig- 
nified. 

On Saturday, we have reading, sewing, and map- 
drawing, though we often have to draw maps on other 
days too. 

Then there is something else. Every afternoon, some 
of the girls stay to do janitor work. We all like it, and 
we take turns, for it is part of the rules, and it is very 
important to know how to sweep and dust and wipe off 
tilings. We put towels on our heads in just a certain 
way, and we loop up our sleeves just like a servant, 
then we tuck up our kimonos, by sticking the front 
points in our belts. We don't wear our shoes in the 
house, so the room is never dusty as my American 
school used to get. We sweep and wipe the floor with 
a damp cloth, then we wipe all the wood in the room 
with a damp cloth, except the ceiling. Then we wipe 
all the desks with a damp cloth. Sometimes we sing 
songs, but always servants' songs. 

I did not mean to write such a long letter, but when 
I began about my school, of course I had to finish. 

In Japan we always close our letters in this way : 
With deep respect, 
Hanano Inagaki Sugimoto (aged 13 years, 
by American count). 



JOLO, JOLO, P. I. 

Dear St. Nicholas : During the six years that I have 
been taking the St. Nicholas, I have lived three years 
in the Philippines. At present, we are living in Jolo, 
one of the islands inhabited by half-civilized Moham- 
medan Moros. But only Americans, Chinese, and other 
civilized people live in the walled city. 

It is about the wedding party of one of these rich 
Chinese merchants, for his son, that I am going to 
tell you. 

This young man and the bride were engaged four 
years before they ever saw each other, the contract 
being made by the fathers, as is the Chinese custom. 
They met first at the time of the wedding, for which 
the groom's family went to Hong-Kong, where the bride 
lived. 

After about a month of festivity there, they all re- 
turned to Jolo with the bride. And this party was 
given in her honor. 

As the guests arrived, they were greeted at the door 



by the father and introduced by him. Then the ladies 
and gentlemen separated into different parlors. 

Soon dinner was announced, the ladies and gentle- 
men going to different tables. At the two ends of the 
women's sat the bride and mother-in-law. All of the 
ladies were beautifully dressed in Chinese, Filipino, 
and Moro costumes, and my mother in American eve- 
ning dress. 

The menu consisted of Chinese delicacies, there being 
only two things served that we were familiar with— 
bread and tea. 

There were fifteen courses, and all were good. But I 
preferred those of sharks' fins, seaweed salad, and 
birds' nests, though the dried oysters, snails, and other 
things were very good. The pastries and crystallized 
fruits were delicious and just like those in France. 

The men drank the bride's and the groom's health in 
many cups of champagne, and the ladies in many cups 
of tea. 

After more conversation in Chinese, French, Spanish, 
and a little English (for the educated Chinese are great 
linguists), we all went home, having thoroughly enjoyed 
our first Chinese party. 

I am twelve years old. 

Your friend, 

Leslie A. Skinner. 



Ravensbourne, near Dunedin, New Zealand. 
Dear St. Nicholas : You cannot imagine the eagerness 
with which my sisters and I read your delightful mag- 
azine, when we get it, every month. I am sorry I can- 
not enter into any of your competitions, as we are al- 
ways a month behind, but I should be pleased to become 
a member of your League. 

We live at one of Dunedin's suburbs, in the heart of 
a native bush, on the beautiful Otago Harbor, which, 
on a calm day, is still more beautiful with the reflection 
of the bush. I attend the commercial classes at the 
Dunedin Technical School, and like it very much. I 
have to travel to school every day in the train. This is 
August twenty-fourth, and we are now enjoying beauti- 
ful spring weather, and everything is looking bright and 
fresh. 

I remain, 

Your interested reader, 
Elizabeth Robb (age 15). 



Le Fontanelle, Porta Ovile, Siena, Italy. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I have been one of your interested 
readers for more than two years, and I have liked you 
very much, better than any other magazine. 

I am an Italian girl, but I know English well, having 
studied for some years ; and I like your beautiful lan- 
guage very much. I am fond of reading, and I have 
many English and Italian books. 

I live in Siena, a very ancient city, full of art trea- 
sures. 

The villa where we are is called Fontanelle, and it is 
in the country, about a mile from one of the city gates. 
Very near us there is the beautiful old monastery of 
Osservanza. 

I have many animals, chickens, and some tame 
pigeons, which come to eat corn on my hand and shoul- 
der. 

We have peacocks, and a beautiful white dog named 
"Polar." We named him so because, when he was 
young, he looked just like a polar bear. 

Wishing you great success, I am 

Your devoted reader, 

Egle Rossi (age 15). 



670 



THE LETTER-BOX 



Lausanne, Switzerland. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have taken you for two years. 
This is my third. I like your stories very much, espe- 
cially "The Lucky Sixpence." 

I am staying in Lausanne, a town on the Lake of 
Geneva, Switzerland. My home is in America, and I 
have two brothers and two sisters there. I am the 
eldest. I went to the castle of Chillon a few days ago, 
about which Byron wrote his poem entitled "The Pris- 
oner of Chillon." The oldest part of this castle was 
built in the eighth century by the Romans. 

I learn German from my German nurses, and am 
now taking French lessons. Although I am enjoying 
myself immensely, I was so glad to get your last num- 
ber! 

Your interested reader, 

Mary Borland Thayer (age 8). 



Berlin, Germany. 
Dearest St. Nicholas : I do enjoy you so much ! We 
live in Germany, about an hour's ride from the lovely 
city of Berlin. My little sister, Phyllis, and I go to a 
German school, which lies fifteen minutes away from 
our house. We came to Germany when I was eleven 
months old, so now we have been here eleven years. 
The schools are very different from our American ones. 
I have to be in school at ten minutes past eight, and 
stay until one o'clock. In winter, when I leave in the 
mornings, the lights are still burning in the streets 
sometimes. 

My mother just told me to come and see a Rumpler 
Taube. So I came. A Rumpler Taube is an aeroplane. 
In the summer, we saw airships almost every day, and 
aeroplanes — oh, about four or five each evening. 

I love your stories. 

Our pets are a tortoise-shell cat and a little canary. 
We just love "Musenmutter," the cat. She is brown, 
black, and white. Our little canary, "Piet," is a little 
dear. Now I must say good-by. 

Your loving reader, 
Margaret Houghton Hessin (age almost 12). 



Tours, France. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have been taking you for more 
than a year. I 've seen the big chateaux of Touraine, 
and I like Azay-le-Rideau best. At Loches, in the old 
guard-room, the soldiers carved figures of men fencing 
and a chapel with ladies in big skirts and ruffs, with 
daggers. Here in Tours there are lots of old houses, 
and one was built in the fifteenth century. 
Wishing you lots of success, 

Elizabeth B. White (age 9). 



Madrid, Spain. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have had your magazine for one 
year, and I like it very much, especially "The Lucky 
Sixpence." It is so interesting ! 

I have a little pony from America, and we have lived 
five years in Africa. 

Your very interested little Spanish reader, 

Rosie Padilla (age 12). 



Buckhurst Hill, England. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have something rather interest- 
ing to tell you, so I thought if I wrote now, you might 
like to print my letter. 

We had school sports about three weeks ago, and one 
of the races was called "the three-minute race," in 



which you had to walk away and then come back when 
you thought three minutes were up. But I just remem- 
bered a story I read a long time ago in the St. Nich- 
olas, which told of a certain way to count in a race or 
anything like that ; so I did it, just to see if it would 
turn out right, and I won the first prize for that race ! 
My sister and I like the St. Nicholas very much. 
Yours truly, 

Doris Grimble. 

Here is a quaint little story, very cleverly told by a 
very young contributor. St. Nicholas sympathizes 
with little brother, in this instance, however, and would 
whisper to everybody whom it may concern, young or 
old, that the "why" habit is a natural one, for little 
folk, and — if kept within bounds — an exceedingly good 
one. But, of course, it is troublesome for grown-ups 
sometimes (and St. Nicholas sympathizes with them, 
too!). 

THE "WHY" HABIT 

Brookline, Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have a brother and he has got 
the "why" habit. Once we were in the woods and were 
having a picnic. We were near an old railroad track. 
We saw some squirrels, but they ran away from us. 
Pretty soon a train came along and we saw the squirrels 
again, chattering at a great rate, and our father said to 
John : "Look at those little chatterboxes, talking about 
everything but never asking 'why,' as you do, John." 
And what do you think ? He stopped the "why" habit 
right away. 

The end. 

Alice Sherburne. 



This bright bit of verse, appropriate to the season, 
was written and ingeniously illustrated by Helen 
S. Daley. 




Li'ttleOKObetV, f\l- 
I'SonGryay /jorvy. 
rncj borne on H ?0 rt' 
JAPr-l'l day ' 



SH er di-nirty qowiT, 
All & pricked b Qay 
freshly iToned ' 
Herbal? froy 



Tfje dirnity ruff /e 5 
lave quffe passe - 
jTbnk of fbp feeji'r^s 

of Hannah. May. 




Mm 



THE RIDDLE-BOX 



ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER 



"'"'J 



Easy Double Acrostic. Kansas, Topeka. Cross-words: i. Kit. 
2. Ago. 3. Nap. 4. See. 5. Ark. 6. Sea. 

Double Diagonal. Thames, Hudson. Cross-words: '1. Trough. 

2. Cherub. 3. Shadow. 4. Cosmos. 5. Corner. 6. Nymphs. 

Zigzag and Acrostic. Abraham Lincoln, Hannibal Hamlin. 
Cross-words: 1. Ashlar. 2. Abacus. 3. Renown. 4. Sandal. 5. 
Heifer. 6. Tablet. 7. Meadow. 8. Allure. 9. Inhale. 10. Enamel, 
n. Combat. 12. Solemn. 13. Loiter. 14. Annual. 

Squares Connected by Diamond Cross. I. 1. Panel. 2. Agora 

3. Nomad. 4. Erase. 5. Lades. II. 1. Spoil. 2. Parma. 3. Organ 

4. Image. 5. Lanes. III. 1. L. 2. Raw. 3. Lares. 4. Web. 5 

5. IV. 1. S. 2. Inn. 3. Sneer. 4. Net. 5. R. V. 1. S. 2. Ban 
3. Savor. 4. Nod. 5 R. VI. 1. S. 2. Yen. 3. Sever. 4. New. 
5. R. VII. 1. R. 2. Doe. 3. Rowel. 4. Eel. 5. L. VIII. 1 
Repel. 2. Elate. 3. Pasha. 4. Ether. 5. Learn. IX. 1. Rebel 
2. Eerie. 3. Bride. 4. Eider. 5. Leers. 

Charade. C-o-w. 

Illustrated Numerical Enigma. There is a foolish corner, even 
in the brain of a sage. 
Metamorphoses, i. Fiber, finer, miner, mines, pines, pipes, piper, 



paper. 2. Grate, prate, plate, slate, state, stare, store, stove. 3. Lead, 
head, heal, peal, peel, pell, pill, pile, pipe. 4. Lamp, lame, lane, lank, 
lack, lick, wick. 5. Crust, crest, cress, tress, trees, treed, breed, bread. 
6. Wolf, woof, wood, rood, road, read, bead, bear. 7. Serf, turf, turn, 
tern, term, teem, them, thee, tree, free. 8. Paper, paler, pales, palls, 
pills, sills, sells, seals, seats, slats, slate. 9. North, forth, forts, torts, 
toots, tooth, sooth, south. 10. Cake, lake, like, pike, pipe, pips, pies. 

Rearranged Words. Robin Hood. 1. Star, rats. 2. Soar, oars. 
3. Robe, bore. 4. Mite, item. 5. Line, Nile. 6. Rhea, hear. 7. 
Soil, oils. 8. Gore, ogre. 9. Send, dens. 

Hidden Bird Puzzle. Thrush, swift, martin, nuthatch, heron, 
finch, merle, stonechat, tern, gannet, snipe, linnet, robin, wren, dove, 
grouse, lark, tit, owl, hen. 

Oblique Rectangle, i. C. 2. Aha. 3. Chant. 4. Annal. 5. 
Tales. 6. Leech. 7. Scrap. 8. Hairs. 9. Prone. 10. Snail. 11. 
Eider. 12. Legal. 13. Rabid. 14. Libel. 15. Debar. 16. Labor. 
17. Robin. 18. Ripen. 19. Never. 20. Net. 21. R. 

Novel Acrostic. Primals : The Mikado ; 1-8, Pinafore ; 9-16, 
Patience : 17-34, Sir William S. Gilbert. Cross-words : 1. Tapir. 2. 
Hello. 3. Ewers. 4. Mince. 5. Islam. 6. Kafir. 7. Abaft. 8. 
Digit. 9. Opine. 



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 February Number were received before February 10 from Ruth Adele Ehrich — Julius Brenner- 
Albert Gerry Blodgett. 

Answers to Puzzles in the February Number were received before February 10 from Ruth Browne, 9 — Edith H. Baumann, 9 — Mar- 
jorie A. Ward, 9 — Virginia Park, 9 — Claire A. Hepner, 9 — Theodore H. Ames, 9 — Helen A. Moulton, 8 — R. Kenneth Everson, 8 — Mary B. 
Shove, 7 — Dorothy Berrall, 7 — Janet B. Fine, 6 — Carlisle Cabaniss, 6 — Jeanette Gale, 6 — Adele Morton, 6 — Lothrop Bartlett, 6 — Eloise Mary 
Peckham, 5 — Dorothy B. Hoyt, 5 — Margaret Andrus, 5 — Douglass Robinson, 4 — Donald C. Allen, 4 — Margaret R. White, 4 — Henry G. Cart- 
wright, Jr., 4 — Alice Brady, 3 — Frieda Selligman, 3 — Elizabeth Brady Ferguson, 3 — W. Eldridge, 3 — Elizabeth Still, 2 — Edith Kriegshaber, 2 — 
Dorothy E. Sutton, 2 — Fred Floyd, Jr., 2 — Harry Kirkland, 2 — Elizabeth Parsons, 2 — Madeleine Ida Strauss, 2 — Agnes G. Jones, 2 — tleanor 
Seavey, 2 — George L. Meleney, 2. 

Answers to One Puzzle were received from M. C. M.— F. G.— M. B.— W. M. R.— R. S. W— C. H— J. L— E. N. F.— A. D. D.— L. I.— 
C. C— B. S.— V. M. T.— L. B. L— S. A— P. E. T— R. P.— D. O.— K. M.— M. L.— J B. K.-A. B.— I. S.— D. L. T— M. H— P. D.— H. 
A. L.— M. L. E.— J. B. K. 



GEOGRAPHICAL SUBTRACTIONS 

{Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

Example : Subtract three letters from a southern State, 
transpose the remaining letters, and get anger. An- 
swer : Georgia, rage. 

In the same way subtract and transpose : 1. Two let- 
ters from a country of Europe, and get a useless plant. 
2. Three letters from a country of Asia, and get a wild 
animal. 3. Two letters from another country of Asia, 
and get a doze. 4. Three letters from another country 
of Asia, and get to grieve for. 5. Two letters from a 
country of North America, and get to approach. 6. 
Three letters from a country of South America, and get 
a horse. 7. Three letters from a country of Africa, and 
get a bar resting on two supports. 8. Three letters 
from another country of Africa, and get to bow the 
head quickly. 

jean f. benswanger (age 11). 



WORD-SQUARES 

I. 1. Pursuit. 2. A place of refuge. 3. To turn 
aside. 4. To work for. 5. To penetrate. 

II. 1. Living. 2. Cloth made from flax. 3. Sense- 
less. 4. Poison. 5. Foe. if. K. G. 

NOVEL HISTORICAL, ACROSTIC 

Cross-words: i. A famous' char- 
acter in ancient history. 2. A 
great naval battle in which the 
friend of number 1 was defeated. 
3. What the country of number 1 
became under his successor. 4. 
A great general of the same coun- 
try who lived a hundred years before. 5. The friend of 
number 1 who lost the battle of number 2. 6. The fel- 
low-countrymen of number 1. 



21 


12 


S 




2 


14 






6 


16 


10 


8 




22 


24 


I 




11 


23 




19 


20 


9 




13 


is 


17 


3 




7 



671 



672 



THE RIDDLE-BOX 



The primals spell *he same name as cross-word i. 
From i to 7, and from 8 to 13, spell the names of his two 
associates, and 14-24 and 7 spells the name of his con- 
tribution to history. 

alpheus w. smith (age 14), Honor Member. 

DOUBLE ZIGZAG 

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 col- 
umns will spell the surname of a famous author, and 
through the fifth and fourth columns, one of his best- 
known works. 

Cross-words : I. The head of an Arab tribe. 2. Se- 
date. 3. To correct. 4. An incident. 5. Additional. 
6. Unfit. 7. A fragment. 8. To cheat. 9. A water- 
nymph. 

henry d. knower (age 14), League Member. 




ILLUSTRATED CENTRAL ACROSTIC 

Each of the seven pictures may be described by a single 
word. When these words are rightly guessed and writ- 
ten one below another, in the order in which they are 
numbered, the central letters will spell the surname of 
a famous man who was born in the month of May, more 
than a hundred years ago. m. w. 

DIAMOND 

1. In commendation. 2. To equip with weapons. 3. A 
place for sacrifice. 4. A bird. 5. A peninsula of Asia. 
6. A genus of fishes. 7. In commendation. 

george s. cattnach (age 14), League Member. 

NUMERICAL ENIGMA 

I am composed of seventy-two letters, and form a quota- 
tion from Sir Walter Scott. 

My 41-14-36-22-64 5-69-59-51-55 is a hero of the 
American Revolution. My 6-48-32-44-18-54-25 is a 



wind of the Indian Ocean. My 34-61-67—68-31—71 is 
to achieve. My 11-17-47-35-42-21-49 is comforted. 
My 52-33-65-28-3-16-10—62-37-24-8 is a collection. 
My 23-2-57-53—40-70—12-60 is the famous waterfalls 
in 63-1 9-43-9-1 3. My 26-27-20-72-1-1 5-58-38-66-4- 
46 is informing previously. My 56-45—50 is distant. 
My 39-30-7-29 is to urge forward by any irritating 
means. 

sophie e. buechler (age 13), League Member. 

DIAGONAL 

All the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed, and written one below 
the other, the diagonal, beginning at the upper right- 
hand corner, will spell the name of a hero of the 
Trojan War. 

Cross-words : 1. Remarkable or unusual appearances. 
2. Profaning sacred things. 3. To justify. 4. Feature. 
5. Insipid. 6. Fantastic. 7. A large body of land. 8. 
Occurring at night. 9. Generally known or talked of. 
Constance Griffith (age 15), League Member. 

ANAGRAM 

A general famous in American history : World on call 
sir. katherine browne (age 10), League Member. 



14 



NOVEL ZIGZAG 

When the words described have been 
correctly guessed and written one below 
another, the zigzag of stars will spell 
the name of a famous English admiral 
who won a naval battle. The figures i 
to 5 spell the name of the town off 
which the action took place, and 6-24 
spells the epithet always applied to the 
battle. 
Cross-words : 1. For fear that. 2. To unite. 3. To 

corrode. 4. Scent. 5. Wages. 6. A number. 7. A wild 

animal. 8. Beseeches. 

marjorie k. gibbons (age 16), Honor Member. 

CONNECTED STARS 



24 17 5 

* 15 23 
12 4 18 

* 19 9 

10 16 3 

* 22 2 

11 7 20 

* 6 13 



Upper Star: i. In stock-yard. 2. A conjunction. 3. 
Indian chiefs. 4. Accounts. 5. Repose. 6. Drags along 
the ground. 7. Unfeigned. 8. A possessive pronoun. 
9. In stock-yard. Diagonals: 1. To clamber up. 2. 
Scorches. 

Lower Star: i. In stock-yard. 2. A pronoun. 3. A 
city of Switzerland. 4. A piece of furniture. 5. A 
Mexican donkey. 6. The Christian name of two Presi- 
dents of the United States. 7. Wise men. 8. A per- 
sonal pronoun. 9. In stock-yard. Diagonals: 1. En- 
tices. 2. Acquires by service. 

The nine central stars spell the name of a famous 
writer. 

edith pierpont stickney (age 13), Honor Member. 



THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK. 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




" Not as good as Campbell's 

'"NJO. There is none like that." 
*^ This is what people who know the best and 
it in their homes say every day about 



lave 



&m0tiL% 



TOMATO 

OUP 



Not only is it composed of the choicest materials known, 
but our method of retaining their fresh natural flavor is ex- 
clusive with us. And our blending-formula was originated 
by the foremost soup-expert in the world. 

Try this perfect soup prepared with milk or cream as a 
bisque and you will realize that the most 
expensive hotel, the most palatial club 
or private residence can supply nothing 
better. 

21 kinds 10c a can 




"One good turn deserves the 

same: 
I eat these soups so fine. 
And then uphold their 

strength and fame 
While they're upholding 

mine". 



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 

Tomato 

Tomato-Okra 

Vegetable 

Vermicelli-Tomato 



Look for the red-and-white label 




ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 






^ 






mm 

EANUT 
BUTTER 



L6 



^ 



57, 



r 



The Food That Builds 
Rugged Children 

Thousands of youngsters ask for Heinz Peanut Butter every meal. 
Just because of its delicious flavor. Parents have a deeper reason for 
wanting them to have it. Children's food must go into growth, as well 
as satisfy appetite. They need protein. And 

Heinz Peanut Butter 

is rich in this valuable element. Little folks revel in it while it builds 
them up. The choicest peanuts, picked over and over to exclude all but 
the perfect kernels — roasted till the delicate flavor is fully brought out — 
then salted and ground. Made into 
creamy butter. One of the best of the Haye y QU J r { e £ the New 

57 Varieties Heinz Spaghetti? 



And grown folks rival children 
in demanding Heinz Peanut Butter. 
Many housewives use it for cooking 
and for the table. Fine for luncheon 
sandwiches. Get a jar today. 

Others of the famous "57": Euchred 
Pickle, Chili Sauce, Vinegars, Tomato 
Ketchup, Baked Beans, India Relish, etc. 

H. J. Heinz Co. 



Over SO, 000 Visitors Inspect the Heinz 
Model Kitchens Every Year 



—Real Italian Style 
—with that deli- 
cate finer flavor — 
the piquancy and 
richness of the 
dish as served in 
the most famous 
restaurants of 
Italy. 

Better even than 
best home-made. 
Appetizing — di- 
gestible — nourish- 
ing. Prepared in 
a jiffy. 



\MSMz 



ISPAGHETTL 

WlTALIEHNEW/ 



"'n -paoY Id H* 



10 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



m^m 




n 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



The New Holeproof Sox 

at $1.50 for Six Pairs 

Are Mercerized 



Get a Trial Box Today 
A Soft, Silky 

Appearance 

and 

Six Months' Wear 




We now offer a Twenty-Five-Cent sock 

with a silky lustre — six pairs guaranteed six 

months — the finest thing of its kind ever made. 

We imported a mercerizing machine from 

Switzerland to do it. We have invested 

$10,000 in this one improvement alone. Don't 

you want to see what kind of hosiery this machine turns out ? 

The yarn in this sock costs us an average of 74c a pound. 

It is Egyptian and Sea Island cotton, the finest yarn at the 

top market price. Common yarn sells for 32c. But the new 

Holeproof is soft, light and stylish. With all its light weight, 

it lasts six months. Don't you want to wear it? 



. r AND CHILDREN^X 



MEN. WOMEN 



Write for the Free Book on Holeproof. See how these won- 
derful goods are made. 

The genuine are sold in your town. Ask for the dealers' 
names. We ship direct where we have no dealer, 
charges prepaid, on receipt of price. 

We make them for men, women, children and infants. 

Holeproof in cotton, for men, cost from $1.50 to 

$3 a box of six pairs. For women and children, $2 to 

$3 a box of six pairs. For infants, $1 a box of four 

pairs. All the above boxes guaranteed six months. 

Silk Holeproof for men, $2 for three pairs. For 
women, $3 for three pairs. Three pairs of silk guar- 
anteed three months. 



Eeg. u. s. 

Pat. Office, 1906 



^cMSucM 



Look for 
This Mark 
on the Toe 



HOLEPROOF HOSIERY COMPANY 
MILWAUKEE, WIS. 

HOLEPROOF HOSIERY COMPANY OF CANADA, Ltd. 

London, Canada (422) 



4t 



^ Year f foleproDf f fQ30 andpncllhe fl fend " . 



FOR WOMEN 



For long wear, fit and style, these are the finest silk gloves produced. Made 
Y^\ in all lengths, sizes and colors. Write for the illustrated book that tells all 



about them and for the name of the dealer near you who handles them. 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




Easier than Cooking. 



Turning the contents of a Jell-O package into a pint bowl and filling 
it with hot water is the easy way the cook makes dessert when she uses 





There is no cooking about it, and, of course, any- 
body can do it. 

A great variety of the mosl delicious and beautiful 
desserts for dinner and the mosl delightfully flavored 
dishes for lunch and supper are made of Jell-O. 

Seven fine flavors of Jell-O: Strawberry, Raspberry, 
Lemon, Orange, Cherry, Peach, Chocolate. 

We have two recipe books, both beautifully illustrated. 
One is " Desserts of the World," and the other, " Six Famous 
Cooks." If you will write and tell us which one you prefer 
we will send it to you. 

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. 




13 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




KODAK 

Makes all outdoors a playground, for grown- 
ups or for children — Gives all the fun of pho- 
tography without any of the bother. 

Simplicity, convenience, efficiency — -these tell the 
Kodak all-by-daylight story. 

Kodak catalogue at your dealers, or on request. Free. 

EASTMAN KODAK COMPANY, Rochester, N. Y. 



14 



! 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




THG STOR5>> 

TH6 

TOOTH BRUSH 

TOLP 



" CEE my little bristles," said the Toothbrush, hopping 
^ from his rack over the washbasin. "Those are my 

hands and they 're ready to help you make your teeth clean 
and white. With them I can reach into all the little cracks 
and spaces between your teeth and pull out the tiny bits 
of food which catch there. But I need some help — I 
can't make your teeth clean all alone. I need the help of 

COLGATE/S 

RIBBON DENTAL CREAM 

"Squeeze a little of that on my hands and see how 
well I work and how much you like it too. The 
Cream tastes 50 good and it polishes the outsides 
and'insides and tops of your teeth and makes them white. 

"And when Colgate's Cream and I are through, your mouth will feel so 

cool and clean, with such a splendid, 
wholesome taste, that you'll love to use 
us. Oh ! you 11 be very fond of us both 
when you 've found what we do." 

And as the Toothbrush scrambled up 
into his rack again, he added: "A good 
way to begin is by asking Mother for 4 
cents in stamps to send to Mr. Ribbon 
Dental Cream, c /° (Colgate & Co.), 1 99 
Fulton Street, New York. He will send 
you a nice little tube like the picture all 
for your own, and a funny animal rhyme 
book, with colored pictures. 





15 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



Tires that have ALL the big 
features for perfect service 



lb! 



& 



fat 



1 PENNSYLVANIA 
VACUUM 1 CUPlTIRES 

FOR MOTORCYCLES 

1 
are Automobile Tires Motorcycle Size. The same ■ 
thorough construction, the same Sea Island fabric, the 
same highest grade materials as our famous Vacuum 
Cup Automobile Tires. Prevent skidding and cannot 
contract oil rot from use on oiled roads. As to their 
lasting powers, — they 're guaranteed for 5,000 miles, 
twice the average distance of ordinary tires, and com- 
monly exceed this guarantee by thousands of miles. 

PENNSYLVANIA 

'Red ©LtfUOOf* Tread 

VACUUM 1 CUFTIRES 

FOR BICYCLES 

are a long way the best made. That 's why they 're guaran- 
teed to give you a whole season's satisfactory service. A 
printed tag attached to each tire you buy covers this liberal 
guarantee. These tires do not slip on wet or greasy pave- 
ments, cannot suffer stone bruises, cannot rot from oil disease, 
show only gradual wear even on the worst kind of roads. Practi- 
cally puncture-proof. The Red Tread looks great on your wheel. 
You can get Pennsylvania Vacuum Cup Tires for Bicycles and 
Motorcycles at any good tire dealer's. If not, just drop us a 
| line and we '11 see that you are supplied quickly. 

J PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER CO., Jeannette, Pa. 



Pittsburgh, 505 Liberty Avenue 
Cleveland, 1837 Euclid Avenue 
Detroit, 254 Jefferson Avenue 
Chicago, 1004 Michigan Avenue 



Branches 



Minneapolis, 34 S. 8th Street 
Kansas City, Mo., 514 E. loth St. 
Omaha, 215 S. 20th Street 
Seattle, Armour Building 



PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER CO. OF NEW YORK 

New York City, 1700 Broadway Boston, 149 Berkeley Street 

Dallas, 411 S. Ervay Street 

PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER CO. OF CALIFORNIA 

Sau Francisco, 512-514 Mission Street Los Angeles, 930 S. Main Street 
j4n Independent Company with an independent selling policy 



m 



f A 



ml 



16 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




For Your Spring Hike ! 

You know the soft, quiet, elastic tread of the trained athlete — 
How it enables him to walk for miles without fatigue — How, 
at the end of a long day 'smarch, he is able tocomeinto camp 
as fresh as a daisy, and with as much enthusiasm as he had 
when he set out in the morning. To acquire this easy, 
springy step you should have your shoes equipped with 

O'Sullivan's Heels 

of 

New, Live Rubber 



They last more than twice as long as leather heels and enable you 

to march without the fatigue that follows the use of hard leather. 

Do you know one reason why the Indian can walk so far tirelessly? 

It is because his soft moccasin falls upon soft turf and produces 

no jar to legs and back. Rubber heels save you from that jar 

and give you the long, easy, swinging stride of the Indian, the 

woodsman and the athlete. 

No matter where you walk, whether it be on rocks, on hard paths, 

or on stone pavements, your foot will fall just as lightly and with 

just as much spring as though you were walking on the softest 

turf or leaf-carpeted path in the woods. 

Get a pair before you go on your Spring hike and see how much 

more you will enjoy it. 50c attached, at any shoemaker's. 

Be sure and get O'Sullivan's because they are the original rubber 

heels, made of new, live rubber— rubber with all the spring in it. 

50c Attached 




17 



St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No.ijy. 
Time to hand in answers is up May 10. Prize-winners announced in July number. 




"And will you be kind enough," we inquired 
of our young friend, Alexander the Little, " to 
let us know what this drawing of your feast is 
all about ?" 

"It will give me," Alexander replied, "the 
greatest pleasure in the world. Casually ex- 
amining the advertising pages of the April St. 
Nicholas, it struck me that there were a large 
proportion of eatables exploited for the delec- 
tation of your readers." 

" You mean, a number of foods advertised?" 

" My words can hardly warrant any other 
signification," said he, with much dignity; 
" but if you like primer language, you shall be 
satisfied. 

" I have taken some of the foods advertised 
by nothing less than a quarter page, and have 
put the letters that spell the articles into the 
ten dishes on the table. 

" To solve the puzzle, you begin at one of 
the dishes, the same one every time, and from 
it select one letter. From the next dish take 
one letter, and so on around the table as many 
times as necessary till the whole name of each 
article is spelled out as it appears in the April 
advertisement. Always go around the same 
way, taking from each dish, in regular order, a 
letter at a time." 

(See also 

18 



(While some letters may be used more than 
once, Alexander says that each advertisement 
is covered by one answer only, and that one, 
the main title of each of the advertisements 
selected. Alexander tells you this because 
three of the advertisements mention a number 
of varieties coming under their general subject.) 

"This will give the list of those food articles 
advertised in the April St. Nicholas, which 
I have chosen. 

"Then put these in alphabetical order, num- 
ber them, and you will have the answer to 
Alexander's Feast.' " 

" Where have we heard that name before ?" 
we asked. 

" The other is a great poem by Dryden," 
Alexander informed us ; "but that is no reason 
why I should not have a feast of my own." 

" Very true," we agreed. " But were you 
able to get a sufficiently varied table to satisfy 
your guests ? " 

" Not quite," he admitted. "I have profited 
by this experience, however, and next time will 
add other articles which my guests think de- 
lightful. At the top of the list will be peanut 
butter and crackers ! Why don't you tell the 
St. Nicholas folk about some of 'Heinz' 57 
Varieties, Beechnut products, or some of the 
page 20.) 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




Fairy 
Food 

for 
Little 

Folks 

You cannot give the children a confection that 
will please them more than these delightfully 
toothsome Necco and Hub Wafers. The dainty 
little "disks of delight" are pure and wholesome 
— a food confection. Let the little ones try 
them. 



(Necco 

\ -Sweets 



Necco Wafers 

Glazed Paper Wrapper 

Hub Wafers 

Transparent Paper Wrapper 

are made in nine delicious flavors — Winter- 
green, Peppermint, Sassafras, Chocolate, Lico- 
rice, Clove, Lime, Lemon and Cinnamon — 
each one an old favorite and made under ^ 
the Necco Seal of guaranteed purity 

Necco Sweets include over 500 varieties of 
pure, delicious candy, made in the clean- 
est, most modern confectionery factory in 
the country. Sold by all leading dealers. 



NEW ENGLAND 

CONFECTIONERY 

CO. 

Boston, Mass. 




19 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



delicacies prepared by the National Biscuit Com- 
pany ? They make dishes fit to set before a king. ' ' 

"Thank you for the suggestion," we remarked, 
as we bowed Alexander the Little out of the 
office. 

After you have found out the correct advertised 
articles, you must write us a letter of three 
hundred words or less, telling what you know 
about peanut butter or crackers. Where solu- 
tions to the puzzle are equally correct, the 
writers of the most interesting letters will re- 
ceive the prizes. 

Here are the prizes and rules : 

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. Pro- 
spective contestants need not be subscribers for St. Nicholas 
in order to compete for the prizes offered. 

2. In the upper left-hand corner of your list give name, 
age, address, and the number of this competition (137). 

3. Submit answers by May 10, 1913. Do not use 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 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. 137, 
St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York. 



Report on Advertising 
Alexander is the most disagreeable boy we ever 
saw ! He walked into the office to-day, glanced 
over a few of the thousand and more answers 
received, and then with a very spiteful smirk said, 
'Ah ha! I told you so! They did make mis- 
takes after all — and careless ones, too." We 
treated his remark with silent contempt, because 
it so happened he did not look through the 
large pile of good papers where no mistakes had 
been made in the list. 

But — to get down to business. First, many 
papers were discarded because of poor spell- 
ing, "Crystal" never "Chrystal," "Maillard's" 
never "Mallard's." Then some of you were 
not keen enough to note two number seventeens 
in the list and thought you had solved the puzzle 
when you had found twenty-one answers. Some 
of you on the other hand called attention to 
this mistake (?) on our part. 

And why — oh, why did so many of you write 
"Northern Pacific Railroad" or "Railway" when 
the advertisement referred to clearly read "Ry"? 
"Jell-Q" is not written with a small "o." 
Another large stumbling-block was "O'Sullivan" 
(not "O'Sullivan's") Rubber Heels and still 
another was "Swift's Premium" Ham (not 
Hams) and Bacon. Some of you did not 
follow the rule of putting your name, age, ad- 
dress, and competition number in "the upper 
left-hand corner of your list." 

You who began your list with "O'Sullivan 
Rubber Heels" instead of "Bensdorp's Royal 
Dutch Cocoa" evidently did n't read the sentence 
about putting answers in alphabetical order. 

Of course, in some cases, there were other 
errors than those mentioned, but most of you 
who are not on the list of prize-winners made 
some of the above mistakes. 

It is all very simple when you think of it — 
this matter of getting correct lists. The secret 
of success in these competitions is really no 
secret at all. It is just a question of old- 

(See also 
' 20 



Competition No. 135. 
fashioned care and thought. Most of you have 
ability enough : all of you can be careful. And 
you may be certain that if you are not correct 
to the smallest detail, the quick eyes of the 
Judges will discover it, and the girl living in the 
next street, who has read the advertisements 
just a little more thoughtfully than you, will win 
your prize. 

Careful study and analysis of the advertise- 
ments month after month are makingyou very keen 
critics. Some of the lessons you are learning now 
will stand you in good stead in the years to come. 

The letters this month telling why you liked 
certain advertisements were exceptionally good. 
Many of you are learning the true principles 
that should govern advertising. Indeed, some 
of our grown-up advertising friends would be 
surprised and pleased by the intelligent judg- 
ment of you young experts. 

Some future artists and illustrators submitted 
very attractive papers. The best are so good 
that we simply are compelled to give them 
Honorable Mention. 

They follow the list of prize-winners, who are : 

One First Prize, $5.00: 

Elizabeth Dewing Macy, age 15, Pennsylvania. 
Two Second Prizes, $3.00 each : 

Margaret M. Benney, age 15-2-3, Pennsylvania. 

John F. Kyes, Jr., age 15, Massachusetts. 
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each : 

Mildred Harvey, age 14, Nova Scotia. 

Frances C. Burr, age 16, New Jersey. 

Jane P. Clark, age 14, New York City. 
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1.00 each: 

Longshaw K. Porritt, age 17, Connecticut. 

Susan Gore, age 13, Ohio. 

Katharine M. Jaeger, age 14, New York. 

Bessie H. Rockwood, age 13, New York. 

Edna Elmore Milliman, age 14, New York. 

Edith Hahn, age 14, New York City. 

Mary Shufelt Esselstyn, age 13, New York City. 

Clara Louise Berg, age IS, Iowa. 

Ethel S. Hayes, age 11, New York City. 

Ethel Miriam Feuerlicht, age 16, New York City. 
Honorable Mention for uniqueness and originality : 

Hugh W. Hitchcock, age 14, Michigan. 

Arthur H. Nethercot, age 17, Illinois. 

Horace S. Hill, age 15, New York City. 

Athalia Rankin Bunting, age 15, North Carolina, 
page 18.) 



57'. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



LIKE 



:^1 



'-VX 



<&k 



JN 



ill 



*Vl 



Chapter III 
{This story began in the March issue of this year) 

THE little fairy boys were somewhat startled by the wise men's 
sudden question. But after consulting together they shouted 
back quite loudly, just to show that they were not to be frightened 
by any old wise man : " We Like Our Soap ! " And who could wonder 
at that, pray, for was n't it Fairy Soap ? 

And yet you would have thought pandemonium had been let loose, 
such cheering and clapping, such stamping and running to and fro. 
The impulsive little fairies embraced each other, shook hands, clapped 
one another on the back, and such a general rejoicing was never before 
seen. Only the wise men remained calm, and drawing their robes 
closely about them, they stalked majestically back to their palace. 

Then the Queen arose and clapped her hands for order, and proclaimed 
a holiday to celebrate the great discovery. And it was a great discovery, 
to be sure, for now it was perfectly plain to the fairies that the little 
mortal boy could be helped. 

So, while her subjects went dancing away for a frolic in the woods, 
the Queen and her council were drawing up a wonderful plan. At 
sundown the fairies were summoned, and then such a volley of com- 
mands as descended upon their heads, and such a hurrying and scurry- 
ing 1 Even the littlest toddling fairy helped. 

They ran this way and that, tumbling over one another in their 
eagerness to help. 

What do you suppose they were doing ? 



{7b be continued next month) 

THE N. K. FA1RBANK COMPANY 

CHICAGO 

Makers of Fairy Soap 



£7 



■M 



I 



'/ 



-A 



VO 



ZJ 



2& 



'& 



2& 



^ 



i v. 



KL/~ 



K^nd*. if 



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. 

21 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



Coward 

Shoe 



REG. U S PAT. OFF. ' 



Broad Toe 




COWARD su a p r p c o h rt SHOES 

With COWARD EXTENSION Heel 

should be worn by every child 
whose ankles "turn in." The correct 
anatomical construction of these 
shoes rests the arch ligaments, over- 
comes ankle weakness, and exerts a 
helpful influence under the entire 
foot-structure. The approved shoes 
for strengthening structural foot 
weakness and correcting "flat-foot" 
conditions. 

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) 




late Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Grounc 

u 



rid Chocolate Ground Cjp_ 

new 
^Chocolate Product 



Ground 
Chocolate 

(vanilla flavorj * 



ound Chocola 



jpecially prepared 

Sox immediate use 

[Most exquisite 

mdChocoia)^ a j iot beverage. 

■date 



MAI I 



3/ it to-day. fej§§| 



\.i leading 



iChoca 



lid Chocol 



nmd Chocolate Ground Chdc*^ grocers. 

■olate Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Grou 



ouad Chocolate (hound Chocolate Ground Chocolate Ground Choco 



22 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




i ! 

U 



Only Pure, Rich Milk, Pro- 

duced by perfectly healthy 
cows, properly feu ana housed 

I in sanitary barns, well lighted 
and ventilated, is used in the 
preparation of 



LONdensED 

MILK 

THE ORIGINAL 



Best for the Nursery, the 
Table and Cooking Purposes. 

Send for 

" Borden's Recipes." 

"My Biography," a book for babies. 

" Where Cleanliness Reigns Supreme." 



BORDEN'S 

CONDENSED 

MILK CO. 

"Leaders of Quality'* 
New York 

Est. 1857 



tit. 11 





Tfie Cromwell 
Pattern 



This pattern has achieved 
marked popularity. The 
delicate lines of ornamen- 
tation result in a design of 
beauty and simplicity that 
is combined with strength 
and durability. 



1847 ROGERS BROS. 

"Stlper Plate that Wears" 

is made in the heaviest 
grade of silver plate, 
backed with an unqualified 
guarantee made possible by 
an actual test of over 65 
years. Sold by leading 
dealers. Send for 
catalogue "E-5." 

INTERNATIONAL 
SILVER CO. 

Successor to 
Meriden Britannia Company 

MERIDEN, CONN. 



New York Chicago 

San Francisco 

Hamilton, Canada 



The World's Largest Makers 
of Sterling Silver and Plate. 



/ 



23 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 








¥ 




If You Love Birds 



Write me To-day 

MARTIN HOUSE 

Sit down right now and write me asking for the interesting story of how I wrun house 
attracted the birds to my home — how I won the loyalty of the purple martins 
(I have hundreds of them), the bluebirds, the flycatchers, the wrens, tree- 
swallows, and others. 



I make houses that attract birds 

It took me many years to get the houses just right for the birds. They are 
particular little fellows and insist on having their houses built " just so," but 
1 finally succeeded, and I want to tell you all about it. 

I build bluebird, wren, and martin houses, and one for great crested 
flycatchers, which are comparatively inexpensive. I also make English sparrow 
traps, which rid yon of the sparrow, as sparrows drive away the song-birds. 

The birds are beginning to nest now — write me to-day so you can see the pic- 
tures of all my bird-houses to pick yours out and have your little feathered 
friends with you this summer. 

JOS. H. DODSON, 914 Association Building, Chicago, 111 

(A Director of Illinois Audubon Society) 









Hinds ISCream 



50 c. Jmprodes the^S^J (bmpleXiort 




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 




With a HEALTH MERRY-GO-ROUND on your lawn you need not 
worry about the health and amusement of your children. They'll 
enjoy themselves in theopen, at home. Grow strong in mind and body. 

The Health Merry-Go-Round is absolutely safe; has no cogs; is 
strongly built of iron, Bteel and seasoned wood; repair proof; an 
ornameat to the lawn, or public play grounds. Made with or with- 
out canopy. Organ for music. 

Every machine Guaranteed. Sent on Free Trial; your money 
back if not satisfied. Dealers Wanted — attractive proposition. 
Write for Free Illustrated Catalog. 

HEALTH MERRY-GO-ROUND CO., 

Pent. 317 . . . QU1NCY. ILL. 



Here, Boys! 

THE BATTLE 
OF BASE-BALL 

By G. H. Claudy 

A book which gets at the heart of the great 
American game and tells everything a boy 
could wish to know about it from the boy's 
standpoint — every page snappy and alive. 

Many pictures. $1. 50 net, postage 11 cents. 
THE CENTURY CO. New York 



24 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



How We Love to "Evinrude" 

WE love to skim up the river in our motor driven rowboat. 
We glide along in and out of the little nooks and baylets 
with their over-hanging trees and feel that the best hours of 
the whole golden summer are spent with our 




DETACHABLE 
ROW-BOAT-MOTOR 




It drives our rowboat eight miles an hour and it 's so 
simple we operate it ourselves. 

No Cranking— It Starts With A Swing 

of the fly-wheel. Its propeller is weedless and when the day's fun is over, Brother 
John detaches it (in less than one minute) and brings it into the house. It carries 
like a satchel and when the summer is over we take the motor home with us. It 
goes wherever we go. 

Beautifully illustrated Catalog on request 

EVINRUDE MOTOR COMPANY 



252 M Street 



MILWAUKEE, WIS. 



New York City Show Kooms : Hudson Terminal Bldg., 30 Church St., N\ Y. 
California Show liooins : 42.'1 Market Street, San Francisco. 
Seattle Representatives : 
"Woodhouse Gasoline Engine Co., 62-64 Main St, 



For instant control of your 
bicycle in 
traffic — 

IBS 




The Corbin Duplex Coaster Brake 

When cycling in city streets, hundreds of 

occasions arise when the instant and absolute 

control of your wheel is not only desirable but 

essential. 

The Corbin Two-Speed Coaster Brake is also 

an invaluable control device. Particularly 

helpful to elderly riders. Decreases the labor 

of riding up steep hills and against strong 

winds. Operated by pedal. 

Either of these Brakes fitted to your wheel at 

any bicycle repair shop. 

Send for 1913 catalog showing all models 

Corbin Screw Corporation Division 

(American Hardware Corporation) 
306 High Street New Britain, Conn. 

Licensed Coaster Brake Manufacturers 




mMznxnxaazjzs*} 







Baip-Rods 



May for trol- 
ling'. And there are 
no rods of any kind that 
will give you anywhere near 

the satisfaction for trolling that the 
"BRISTOL" Bait Rod No. II and the 
BRISTOL" Adjustable Telescopic Bait Rod 
o. 34 will give you. Both stand up under the 
heavy strain of dragging the lure through the water 
exceptionally well. No. 11 is S4.50to $6.25, accord- 
ing to handle — the finest all-around rod made. 
No. 34 telescopes down to 33 in. Like all 
"BRISTOLS,"both are guaranteed three years. 



Your dealer has "BRISTOLS." 
not, we will supply you. 



If 



NEW ART CATALOG 

FREE 
THE HORTON MFG. CO. 

167 Horton Street, 

— =~ Bristol, Conn. 



25 



$ 



ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE 



RUSSIA 

IN 1857 the first Russian stamp was issued. The 
design pictured in the center of the stamp is the 
double-headed eagle, and this, with the exception of 
the Charity Issue of 1905, has characterized all sub- 
sequent issues of this country. In passing, we 
would call attention to the fact that the earlier issues 
are printed in water-colors, and must not be soaked 
or moistened, lest the colors disappear. 

Russia now departs from the design which has 
become so familiar to us, and on their first of Janu- 




SOME OF THE KOPEC VALUES OF THE NEW RUSSIAN'ISSUE. 

(Illustrations slightly reduced. Actual width of each stamp 15/16 of an inch.) 

ary (which, owing to a different system of reckon- 
ing time, is our fourteenth of January) issued the 
most interesting series of stamps which we have 
seen in a long while. The lower values of the set 
are surface-printed and very striking in appearance. 
These lower, or kopec, values bear portraits of Rus- 
sian rulers — of persons prominent in the rude and 
stormy stories of Russian history ; the higher, or 
ruble, values — with the exception of the five — por- 
tray buildings. A ruble is worth a trifle over fifty 
cents, and a kopec about half a cent. 

On the one-kopec (orange) is a picture of Peter 
I, or Peter the Great, founder of St. Petersburg, the 
capital of Russia, who was born in 1672, and died 
in 1725. Life in those days was a strenuous thing 
for Russian rulers. Peter's elder sister, Sophia, 
tried to deprive him of his right to the throne, then 
tried to assassinate him. However, he escaped, to 
become the most effective, as well as the most pic- 



turesque, of Russian czars. As a child, his educa- 
tion was greatly neglected, and only as a young man 
did he become aware how far his native country 
was behind the rest of Europe in all arts and sci- 
ences. When he reached the throne, which, for a 
while, he shared with his brother, he set in motion 
his vast schemes for the regeneration of Russia. 
We all know of his intense desire to convert his 
country into a great naval power ; how he warred 
with Turkey to get a seaport on the Black Sea; and 
how he journeyed to Holland, where he worked as 
a common laborer that he might master all the 
secrets of ship-building. He finally secured from 
Sweden provinces on the Baltic, and there laid the 
foundations of St. Petersburg, his new capital. 

Peter the Great was succeeded on the throne by 
Peter II, whose portrait is upon the four-kopec 
(rose) stamp. His reign was neither long nor bril- 
liant. He died in 1730. 

Peter III, the next czar, was deposed and assas- 
sinated by his wife, who subsequently ruled as Cath- 
arine II (pictured on the fourteen-kopec stamp, 
blue-green in color). Space will not permit us to 
enter upon a description of this brilliant and erratic 
woman. We hope, however, that this set will in- 
spire in all stamp-collectors a desire to know more 
of Russian history, and that the readers of St. 
Nicholas will soon be found consulting their his- 
tories and geographies with increased interest. 

On the two-kopec stamp (yellow-green) appears 
the portrait of Alexander II, grandfather of the 
present czar. It was during his reign that the first 
Russian postage-stamps were issued. He it was who 
freed the serfs of Russia, and became known as 
"The Liberator." On the three-kopec (rose) is 
Alexander III, father of the present czar. On the 
seven-kopec, ten-kopec, and five-ruble is Nicholas 
II (who looks so much like King George of Eng- 
land), and who now occupies the throne. 

The other values are as follows : fifteen-kopec 
(pale brown), Nicholas I; twenty-kopec (olive- 
green), Alexander I; twenty-five-kopec (chocolate), 
Alexis Michaelovitz ; thirty-five-kopec (green and 
slate), Paul I; fifty-kopec (brown and black), Eliza- 
beth, who was daughter of Peter the Great ; seventy- 
kopec (brown and green), Michael Feodorovitch, 
the founder of the Romanoff dynasty ; one-ruble 
(green), the Kremlin; two-ruble (red), the Winter 
Palace at St. Petersburg; three-ruble (slate), castle 
of the early Romanoffs ; five-ruble (brown and 
black), the present czar, Nicholas II. 

The set is really a beautiful one, and will cer- 
tainly meet with approval from stamp-collectors. 
There is a bit of uncertainty, however, as to its suc- 
cess in Russia. The czar is not only the head of 
the state, but also of the church. He is the "Little 
Father" of his people. What will happen when the 
postmasters throughout the empire are called upon 
to cancel a stamp bearing the features of this 
revered father? Will the vast mass of the people of 
Russia — ignorant and bigoted as they are reported 
to be — consent to this desecration ? Will they ac- 
cept letters so canceled, or will they demand, and 
succeed in getting, a different design ? 



26 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY 



THE IMPERIAL STAMP ALBUM published for 
beginners. The 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 olass, Perforation Gauge, and Mill. Scale, 
Pocket Stock Book. Price 75 cents post-paid. 

Stamp Collectors' outfits from 25 cents to jSlO.OOin 1913 price 
list, free. New 20th Century Album just out. 



NEW ENGLAND STAMP CO. 



43 Washington Building 



Boston, Mass. 



STAMP ALBUM with 105 all. different Genuine Stamps, incl. 

y^^fev Rhodesia, Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania 
/^jS^Vjft (landscape), Jamaica (waterfalls), etc., only 10c. 200 

■I 11) diff. Japan, India, N.Zld., etc., 15c. Agents Wanted.50%. 
llMbJFlvy Big bargain list, coupons, etc., all Free] We Buy 

\SgS^ Stamps. C. E. Hussman Stamp Co., St. Louis, Mo. 



50 VARIETIES STAMPS 
FROM 50 DIFFERENT COUNTRIES 

sent with our 60% approval sheets for 5c. 
Palm Stamp Co., 249No. Carondelet St., Los Angeles, Cal. 

port" Fine unused stamps to purchasers from my unex- 

* ***-"*-•• celled approvals. Reference. 

Chester McLaughlin, Brentford Hall, Cambridge, Mass. 

PPCp Packet of Stamps for name and address of two col- 

* *" ■■ ' lectors. Enclose 2 cents for postage. 

Red Jacket Stamp Co., 114 Lake Street, Penn Yan, N. Y. 

RARC.AINS EACH SET s cents. 

IXrt.rvvj.rvin .J 10 Luxembourg ; 8 Finland ; 20 Sweden ; 
15 Russia; 8 Costa Rica ; 12 Porto Rico; 8 Dutch Indies; 5 
Crete. Lists of 6000 low-priced stamps free. 
Chambers Stamp Co., Ill G Nassau Street, New York City. 



rp 17 IT 150 Newfoundland, Egypt, etc. Approvals one cent 
rlVCC each. Providence Stamp Co., Providence, R. I. 

RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India, 
xgjjgjv with Catalogue Free. Postage2cents. If possible send 
/ffij^HSk names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special 
/■[ jXl offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain, 
WkJ'Ml llc -'- 40 Japan. 5c: I'm V. S.,20c; 10 Paraguay, 7c; 17 
\*«K>/ Mexico, 10c; 20 Turkey, 7c; 1" Persia, 7c. ; 3 Sudan. 5c; 
^SSr lOChile, 3c;50 Italy, 19c; 200 Foreign, 10c; lOEgypt, 
7c; 50 Africa, 24c; 3 Crete, 3c; 20 Denmark, 5c.;20Portugal,«6c;7 
Siam, 15c; 10 Brazil, 5c; 7 Malay, 10c; 10Finland,5c; 50 Persia, 
89c.;50Cuba, 60c; 6 China, 4c; 8 Bosnia, 7c Remit in Stamps or 
Money-Order. Fineapproval sheets 50% Discount, 50 Page List 
Free. Marks Stamp Company, Dept. N, Toronto, Canada. 



1000 Different EiS"£.£E! $30 for $1.80 



500 different $ .45 


Hayti, 1904 Complete 6 Var. $ .15 


200 " .09 


Abyssinia, 1895 " 7 " .45 


8 " Samoa .40 


Prince Ed. Island " 4 " .35 


12 " Bermuda .25 


N. F'ndl'd, 1890 &'98" 15 " .30 


20 " Panama .30 


Nyassa, Giraffes, '01 " 13 " .25 


9 " Prussia .10 


Canada " 35 " .20 


Gold California $i, each 35c; $i, each 65c; 25 diff. Foreign 


Coins, 25c; Roman Silver (Cassar), 45c. 


Jos. F. Negreen, 8 East 23d, New York City. 




7 /\ DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS FROM 70 DIF- 

■ " ferent Foreign Countries, including Bolivia, Crete, Guat- 
emala, Gold Coast, Hong-Kong, Mauritius, Monaco, Persia, 
Reunion, Tunis, Trinidad, Uruguay, etc., for only 15 cents — a 
genuine bargain. With each order we send our pamphlet which 
tells all about "How to Make a Collection of Stamps Properly." 
Queen City Stamp & Coin Co. ,7 Sinton Bldg., Cincinnati, O. 



STAMPS 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 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 IBS) 
bargains 2c Agts., 50%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. IKS 

C VARIETIES PERU FREE. 

** With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N.Y. 

rprr ISO Newfoundland, Egypt, etc. Approvals one cent- 
JrI\.CC each. Providence Stamp Co., Providence, R. I. 

Your Choice of these Stamps Free! 

No stamp collector can afford to collect without Mykeel's 
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 nice 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. 



Good Penmanship Made Easy 

A fascinating course, costing less than. 4c. a day. Write today 
for Free Circulars and handsome specimens. 
The P alm er Method School of Penmanship by Correspondence, 
30 H. Irving Place, New York City. 



k^TTicli PHo tike hungry wolves 
> **»*• BHC any time of the year 
if you rise Magic-Fish-Lnre. Best 
fish bait ever discovered. Keeps yon busy 

gulling them out. Write to-day and get a 
ox to help Introduce i*- Agents wanted. 
J. F. Gregory, Dept 118 , St. Louis, Mo 



PATRONIZE the advertisers who 
use ST. NICHOLAS— their pro- 
ducts are worthy of your attention. 



CLASS PINS 



FLOWER CITY CLASS PIN CO. 



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 $500 per dozen. 
666 Central Building, Rochester, N. Y. 



We Ship on Approval 

•without a cent deposit, prepay the freight and allow 
,10 DAYS FREE TRIAL on every bicycle. IT ONLY 

COSTS one cent to learn our unheard of prices and 
marvelous offers on highest grade 1913 models. 

FACTORY PRICES i^SyBttS 

one at any price until you write for our new large Art 
Catalog and learn our wonder ful proposition on the first 
sample bicycle going to your town. 

DinCD AftCIITO everywhere are making big 
nlllCn HUbPHO money exhibiting and selling 
our bicycles. We Sell cheaper than any other factory. 

TIRES, Coaster- Brake rear wheels, lamps, 
repairs and sundries at half usual prices. Do Not Wait; 
today for our latest special offer on " Ranger" bicycle. 

MEAD CYCLE CO. Dept. S-272 CHICAGO 

27 




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. 




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- 
fit s — here. Inexpensive. 
Satisfaction guaranteed. Write 
for illustrated catalog. 

BELLE MEADE FARM 

Box 9, Markham, Va. 




THE BEST DOG 

for a companion or watch-do? 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 cony 
of "Training the Collie,'' price 25 cents. 

F. R. CLARK , Prop. 

SUNNYBRAE KENNELS(Registered) 

Bloomington, 111. 



Shetland Ponies 

Airedale Terriers Scotch Collies 

Why not give the children the happiest vacation they 
have ever known by getting them a pony or a puppy. 
Pony catalogue and sales list of puppies on application. 

PAULINE W. SMITH, Box 58, Sandy Hook, Conn. 




Scottish Terriers 

Offered as companions. Not 

given to fighting or roaming. 

Best for children's pets. 

NEWCASTLE KENNELS 

Brookline, Mass. 




Shetland Ponies 

and complete outfits for them for sale, 
WRITE YOUR WANTS. 

There is nothing that can be given 
children which will bring them so much 
health and pleasure as a Shetland Pony 
and outfit. 

Shady Nook Pony Farm 

Dept. H North Ferrisburgh, Vt. 



Money inSquabs ^B 



Learn this immensely rich business] 
we teach you; easy work at home; L| 
everybody succeeds. Start with our 
Jumbo Homer Pigeons and your success is assured. 
Send for large Illustrated Book. Providence 
Squab Company, Providence, Rhode Island. 



28 




A Buy a St. Bernard 

Companion for your child 
and guardian of your proper- 
ty. Best Kennel in America. 

HERCUVEEN KENNELS 
_] Red Bank New Jersey 



SHETLAND PONIES 

Carefully trained for children's safety. Only 
gentle, highly-bred registered ponies in our 
herd. Champion stock, all colors and sizes. 

SUNSET HILL FARM 
P. E. Latham, Mgr. PORTSMOUTH, N. H. 




Airedale Terriers 

Most popular dog of the day 

The Airedale is the best companion, 
watch-dog, and all-round hunting-dog. 
I deal pets for children, faithful, kind, 
and wonderful intelligence. 

Puppies from $25 up. 

Beautiful booklet free. 

Elmhurst Airedale Kennels 

Kansas City, Mo. Sta. £. 



Breeders of 
Pure 

Shetland 
Ponies 




SUNNYS1DE 

SHETLAND 
PONY FARM 

Beautiful and intelligent little 
horses for children constantly 
hand and for sale. Correspond- 
ence solicited. Write for hand- 
somely illustrated pony catalogue to 

MILNE BROS. 
617 Eighth Street Monmouth, 111. 




Do you love dogs? 

Send stamp for 
"Dog Culture' n to 

SPRATT'S Patent Limited 

Newark, N. J. 



FOR CHILDREN WITH INFANTILE 
PARALYSIS 

A WELSH PONY 

will be found to be a great help 
in restoring the use of the limbs. 

PINE HILL PONY FARM 
724 Forest Street Medford, Mass. 




ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



How about a flyer in Kewpies? 

You '11 scarce believe what I '11 be saying, 

Or what I saw as I was Maying! 
Not in green fields my way I took, — 

/went "a-Maying" in a book. 
The Woman's Home Companion through and through 

I 've skipped — and did it just for you. 
I saw the Kutouts sporting there, 

With roguish eye and Kewpish hair ; 
But listen! — here's the ^/surprise, 

'T will make you open ears and eyes, 
This time they 're flying Kewps — five of 'em, 
Oh, gracious! just to see's to love 'em. 
Perhaps you think that Kewps of paper 

Are powerless in air to caper. 
You 7/ find that scissors, paste, and string, 

Send Kewps cavorting on the wing. 
All day their charms I 'd gladly tell, 

But other things I 've seen as well. 
For Mother, there are styles for Spring, 

Menus, stories, everything! 
The gardening hints are for your Dad, 
And bungalows, if they 're his fad. 
And as I scrambled through the book, 

With here a word, and there a look, 
An idea rose and knocked me fiat, 

See how I hurt my toe. See that! 
Fact is, I saw a lot of stuff, — 

But don't you think I 've talked enough? 
And words can never tell the joys 

The Kutouts bring to girls and boys. 
You'll know that all I 've said is true — 

The flying Kewps will fly for you. 
But time as well as Kewps can fly, 

Good-by, my dears — Good-by! — Good-by! 




The Kewpie Kutouts — all in color — appear in every issue of the 
Woman's Home Companion. And so do Rose O'Neil's Kewpie 
verses. Get a copy of the May Woman's Home Companion from 
your newsdealer, or send 15 cents to us and we will send you the 
May issue post-paid. There are lots of other interesting things 
in this magazine for you and your mother — in fact, all the family. 
The Kewpie Kutouts have fronts and backs, and when cut out and 
pasted together make lovely paper dolls. You can have all sorts of 
fun with the Kewpies, and you should have the whole collection. 

WOMAN'S HOME COMPANION 

381 4th AVE.. NEW YORK 




2Q 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




A 

Great General 
Overlooks Nothing 



NAPOLEON, the greatest General the world has yet pro- 
duced, achieved seemingly impossible victories because of 
his mastery of Detail. The hall' hidden opportunity, the whispered 
rumor, a countless mass of little things served him as the magic 
lever that swung his mighty armies to the points of vantage. 

Keen wits, then keen swords bring victory. 

In planning your Advertising Campaign, have you, in caring 
for the very obvious big things, overlooked the all-important little 
things ? 

Have you forgotten the Girls and Boys? Then you have 
missed the lever of the advertising situation to-day, — for THEY 
are the "Power behind the throne." Behind the throne to-day, 
BUT, on the throne to-morrow! 

In St. Nicholas you have their interest and their parents' 
patronage to-day, — the assurance of their patronage five years from 
now. Boys and girls have a way of growing, you know; what they 
have been used to as children they will have as grown-ups. Advertise 
in St. Nicholas and insure the future. 

REMEMBER ! the Little things are the foundation of the 
Big Successes, and — 

A Great General Overlooks Nothing 

DON M. PARKER 

Advertising Manager 
Union Square . New York 



30 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




The Largeit Piano Factory m the Worlc 




JSifeiiHTiiinfflH: 



hind the Steter Piano 



A Personal Word From "The Man Behind The Name" 

"We are building for the future. By concentrating every effort to secure the 
highest efficiency throughout our organization, by constantly studying the best meth- 
ods of piano-building and by using that knowledge, we give to the making of each 
Slzqet fc&oits Piano and the Steger Natural Player-Piano the greatest care in workmanship, 
years of experience and the finest materials the world can supply, realizing that our 
future growth and progress depend upon the artistic worth and durability of every in- 
strument sent forth from our factories." John V. Steger. 

Bttqtt &$mi$ 

Pianos and Natural Player-Pianos 

When you buy a Steqer feJluns Piano you pay for no 

commission or allowances or extras. You pay only the 

L l j — -— — L factory cost, plus a small profit, and you get an instrument 

■ Steger tO B!d g . 0t excellent qualities, which will provide the highest 

■ type of pleasure for your home-circle. 

■ Steqer&Sons Pianos easily take rank with the finest pro- 

■ ducts of Europe and America. They are made in the great Steger piano- 
I factories at Steger, Illinois, the town founded by Mr. J. V. Steger. 

PLANS FOR PAYMENT THAT MAKE BUYING CONVENIENT 
H The Steger Idea Approval tlan. &tt>t\t>r $b> •Sirtfiit 

■ Send for our catalog and other ^4«IJ** W.<*?Vlla 
U interesting literature, which ex- PIANO MANUFACTURING COMPANY, 

^k- plain it. Scut free on request. Steger Building, Chicago, Illinois 





SPECIAL COMPETITION 

Open to All readers of St. Nicholas Magazine 

We have noticed how many clever boys and girls there are among the members 
of the St. Nicholas League. Perhaps you are just as clever, even though you 
may not be a member. At any rate, we are going to put you all to the test. 

We want a suitable heading in our Advertising sections" for school advertisements. 

We are going to give a prize of $10.00 to the boy or girl who submits the most 
attractive school heading for St. NICHOLAS. It may be in pencil, pen and ink, 
wash drawings or colors, but it should be original and appropriate for a page of 
school and college advertisements. It should be about 2]/ 2 inches deep by 5^ 
inches wide. Mr. Harry R.Till's heading on page 468 of the March St. NICH- 
OLAS expresses the idea. 

There is no age limit, but each contribution must bear the name and address of 
the sender. As many designs as desired may be submitted, but it is, of course, 
better to have one carefully worked sketch than three or four ordinary ones. 
Use only one side of paper. Address replies to 
"SPECIAL COMPETITION," Century Co., 33 East 17th Street, New York City. 



31 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




Fun for 
Everybody 





In Yellowstone 
National Park 



CThe Geysers, Cataracts, Canyons, Mountains, Lakes and Streams are 
spread in most alluring array around the superb 143-mile coaching trip 
through America's Only Geyserland. Jaunts of one, two or more days or 
complete tour in 6 days only $55.50. Fishing galore in the flashing trout 
streams — side trips in the haunts of Bison, Bear, Deer, Elk, Antelope, 
Beaver and other weird creatures so plentiful in this greatest of Uncle 
Sam's preserves. Go this summer sure ! Low fares for the Park trip by 
itself or in connection with Pacific Coast trips. Let me tell you about 
Summer Tourist and Convention Tickets at greatly reduced rates. Write 
today. 



A. M. CLEL AND, Gen'l Pass'r Agent, ST. PAUL 

Offices in Leading Cities 



» Northern Pacific 



Q 



Panama-Pacific International Exposition: San Francisco, Feb. -Dec, 1915 



Gardiner Station, Northern Pacific's Gate-way to Yellowstone Park, 
the Original and Northerji H7itrance 



H 
11 







32 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 





It's a hit 

Here's the first chance for you to get the same tire 
for your bicycle that you see on most of the big automobiles — 

Diamond 

Bicycle Tires 



Safety 
ueegee) Tread 

tire that won't slip, slide or skid. You can ride over 
slippery streets, around corners and over car tracks without 
"header" — because it has the famous "Squeegee" bars on 
— same as on our automobile tires, 
this tire has other advantages that you will appreciate — 



ii 



It's red and oil-resisting" 



You can ride over oiled roads without 
ruining tires — and on top of all this it is 
almost puncture-proof. The Safety Tread 
feature alone would make this the best 
tire for your bicycle, but in addition you 
get the oil-proof, easy riding and practically 



puncture-proof advantages — things you 
can't get combined in any other bicycle 
tire. It is the most popular tire on the 
market — be sure to get a pair. Write 
today for the Diamond Bicycle Tire 
Book — -free. 



They are for sale now by 



^Diamond Dealers Everywhere 



If your dealer does not happen to have Diamond Bicycle Tires — ive tvill send them by Parcels 
Post, prepaid anywhere in the U. S. east of the Rocky Mountains, for $8.00 per pair. 

33 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



mam IHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIItlllllllf mm ^ ™™" l|11|||l|1lllllHlllll UHIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIHIHHffi 




V\7"ELL, Polly and Peter Ponds have 
~ * been home in New York City for 
nearly a month. But don' t you imagine for a 
minute that they have been sitting around the 
house doing nothing. Not a bit of it ! They 
are good healthy American children, and if 
nothing interesting enough is going on at 
home, they are bound to go out and find it. 
One warm, sunny April morning Peter 
came tumbling down-stairs and found Polly 
curled up in a chair reading the March St. 
Nicholas. 

"Oh, Peter," she cried as soon as she 
saw him, "have you read the story about 
the men who work on the sky-scrapers ? 
It's awfully exciting, but I don't believe 
they do all these crazy things any more 
than I did the first time I read it. ' ' 

"Polly," answered Peter, "that gives 
me a great idea! You know Uncle Henry 
is superintendent of construction on that big 
new sky-scraper they're building near City 
Hall. We'll just go down there and make 
him take us up in it ! " 
And in not much more time than it takes to tell it, they had on their hats and were off. 
Fortunately, Uncle Henry had a bit of time on his hands, and soon they were on 
one of the great, rough elevators that take up the workmen and some of the supplies. 

When they had reached the thirty-first floor, Uncle Henry said, "Well, children, here's 
where we get off. It wouldn't be safe for you to go any higher." 

"My," said Polly, "this is high enough for me. I think I'm beginning to feel just a little queer. 
Look, Peter,—' way down there on Broadway— the people look just like little black ants running around. " 
"They certainly do," replied Peter, "and look, you can see all the way out to the real ocean, 
miles and miles! But, my goodness, how the wind does blow up here! " 

This may be easy for you to read, but it was all Polly and Peter could do to hear each other, 
with the deafening noise made by the steam-riveters and the wind and the clank of the hoisting- 
gears. The men were hurrying here and there, and all was apparently bustle and confusion; but 
in reality every man knew exactly what to do, and was doing it promptly and well. 

All at once Polly caught sight of one of the riveters who had come up to speak to the foreman of that 
floor. He had his handkerchief wrapped around his hand, and showed plainly that it hurt like sixty. 

" Well, Jim," said the foreman, "what's happened to you? Catch one of those red-hot rivets where you didn't 
expect to ? " 

" Right you are," replied Jim. " Got any of that good old fixin' stuff handy ? " 

" I sure have," said the foreman, and pulling out of his hip-pocket a little leather case, r:e took from it a bottle of 

POND'S EXTRACT 

and began soaking the handkerchief with it. 

"Just look at that, Peter," cried Polly, "they know how good it is everywhere ! " 

"Yes," broke in Uncle Henry, " it's the best thing on earth or up in the clouds for any kind of burn or bruise. 
Every foreman on this job has a bottle always with him." 

"Oh, see! " cried Peter, "there's T im back atwork, whistling away and catching red-hot rivets just as though 
nothing had happened." 

And sure enough, so he was. 



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. 




34 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




Say, Billy — How would you 
go at it to build a boat? 

Suppose you wanted to build a boat. 

Probably the first thing you would do would be 
to ask several of your friends who knew something 
about boat building to help you build it. 

Together you build a much finer boat than any 
one of you could build working alone. 

The same is true of tire building. 

We believe that tires made the way 

United States 



Tires 



are made — by four of the most famous tire makers in the country 
working together — must be stronger tires and longer-wearing 
tires than any single company could ever hope to build working 
alone. 

Next time you buy tires for your bicycle make sure that they are 
four-factory United States Tires. And tell your father and brother that 
the United States Tire Company builds tires for automobiles and motorcycles 
the same way. 

UNITED STATES TIRE COMPANY 

NEW YORK 



35 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




ometimes it is hard to make a boy get up in the 
morning, but if he has been "brought up" on Ivory 
tA Soap he is sure to be bright and clean when he 
reaches the breakfast table. 

Children take to Ivory Soap. As babies, the floating cake fascinates them. 
Then, a little later, they realize what a pleasant bath it makes so that, while 
still very young, they are willing to attend to their own toilets. Thus the 
practice of cleanliness becomes a habit which not even the prospect of a late 
breakfast can alter. 

It is only natural for Ivory Soap to influence its users in this way. It is so 
mild and pure that it feels soothing to the tenderest skin. It gives such a bubbly, 
copious lather that it is a delight to bathe with it. And it rinses so readily that 
the skin is left in its natural, healthy condition — glowingly, ret -eshingly clean. 




IVORY SOAP 



36 




$ 



Peter's saves time for this 
Chief Executive 




Busy people need some light refreshment when too 

occupied to go out to lunch. Peter's Milk Chocolate 

is just the thing they need. It is nourishing (being 

made of the purest milk and best cocoa beans). 

It is not cloying (there being only a little 
sugar in it), so it does not produce any feel- 
ing of discomfort or dullness which sometimes 
follows a hasty meal. Does not create thirst. 



PETER'S MILK CHOCOLATE 

original, and the most delicious. 



is 



the 



'High as the Alps in Quality " 




mm$ 



W 



Vol, 




"MOTHER GOOSE" PICTURES BY ARTHUR RACKHAM 

Vol. XL, No. 8 [UNH, lVl3 PRICE, 25 CENTS 



s 



T NICHOLAS 

ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE 

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 




U||:*;»»,W'*ll«ll»-»l*'<l!*»»)»»«ii»«l»W«l#»*-«Hli!f'««« 




3 





4 




I HiMiaiiMiiiatj « n • « « i mm m \ i * a * * ta»«'»» *« ana.* « ■ * a * « *.*:<u»u 



ft FREDERICK WARNE & CO • BEDFORD ST • STRAND • LONDON $> 

THE- CENTURY-CO- UNION -SQUARE -NEW- YORK 

WILLIAM W. ELLSWORTH, IRA H. BRAINERD, GEORGE INMESS, 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. 



The early Riser 
" -Appetizer 



Everybody 

hurries 

when the 

tempting 

aroma of 



Swift's 
Premium 
Ham or Bacon 




them that the world' s 
best breakfast is ready 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



The Victor system of changeable 

needles is the only way to 

get the perfect tone 



Full tone 



Victrola Needle 

30 cents for 200 



Medium tone 



Victor Needle 

5 cents per 100 
50 cents per 1000 



Soft tone 




Victor Half-Tone Needle 

S cents per 100 
50 cents per 1000 



Subdued tone 




Victor Fibre Needle 

50 cents per 100 

(can be repointed and 

used eight times) 



The perfect tone — the tone you like the 
best — is different with different selections. 

You will never be satisfied with any musical 
instrument which does not respond to your 
individual tastes and requirements. How many 
times have you been actually irritated by hear- 
ing music played too loud, too fast, too slow, 
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New Victor Records are on sale at all dealers on the 28th of each month 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




The Roots of a Sky-scraper 
D ID 

-Lv sk 



you know that all the big, towering 
/-scrapers have to have roots, just 
like a tree? Well, they do, and some of 
them go down into the ground for a hundred 
feet- — and there are men who do nothing else 
but make sky-scraper roots. 

And here are Polly and Peter Ponds going 
down into the hole where one of those roots 
will be. 

No, that isn't a big milk-can that Peter is 
in. It is what the men who build founda- 
tions call a "caisson," — a hollow cylinder 
full of compressed air with the bottom rest- 
ing on the wet sand or mud through which 
they have to dig to get the foundations down 
to rock-bottom. The air in the cylinder has 
to be under heavy pressure so as to. keep that 
wet sand from running in and filling up the 
hole as they dig it. 

Anyhow, if you read the April St. Nicholas 

all through, you know all about it. 

Uncle Henry Ponds had a hard time getting permission for Peter and Polly to go 

down in that caisson, but they had made up their minds to do it, and so he just 

couldn't help himself. But when the time came for them to get into the sand-bucket, 

Polly was a little bit frightened, and made Peter go first. 

"Well, good-by, Polly," he said as he clambered in, "here I go down to the 
center of the earth!" 

"Oh, Peter," cried Polly, "I'm afraid something will happen! Have you got your 



bottle of 



POND'S EXTRACT 



with you 



"I surely have," answered Peter. "You know I would n't go anywhere without 
it. And I've got something else too that you'll be glad of later." 

Well, the children had a wonderful experience down in the caisson. The compressed air nearly 
burst their ear-drums, and they went down so far that they could almost hear the Chinamen walking 
below them, and when they got out, they looked something like sand-hogs themselves. 

"Oh, my," said Polly, "I feel awfully dirty and hot. And my face feels as red and gritty — " 

"There," cried Peter, "I thought you 'd be complaining of the dirt, but I 've got a box of 

POND'S EXTRACT VANISHING CREAM 

in my pocket for you. What do you think of that ? ' ' 

"Peter," said Polly, "you're a darling, if you are my brother. That's just what I wanted. My 
skin will be just as good as new in five minutes." 

"Maybe I '11 have a bit myself," answered Peter, "if I am your brother. It certainly does make 
a chap feel good and doesn't leave him looking like a greased pig." 



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. 



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[The entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission.] 

CONTENTS OF ST. NICHOLAS FOR JUNE, 1913 

Frontispiece. "As I was going to St. Ives." Painted for St. Nicholas 

by Arthur Rackham. Page 

The Nursery Rhymes of Mother Goose: "As I was going to St. Ives." 

"Two legs sat upon three legs." Illustrated by Arthur Rackham 673 

The "Royal " May-Day Festival. Sketch, illustrated from photographs . . M. L. Andrews 674 

Settling the Question. Verse, illustrated by the Author George 0. Butler 677 

More Than Conquerors: "The Torch-Bearer of the Dark Continent." 

Biographical Sketch Ariadne Gilbert 678 

Illustrated by Oscar F. Schmidt, and from photographs. 

Her Lesson. Verse. Illustrated by S. Wendell Mitchell Pauline Frances Camp 685 

The Lilac-Tree. Verse. Illustrated by Katherine G. Peirson Laura Spencer Portor 686 

A Blue-GraSS Girl. Story. Illustrated by C. M. Relyea and John Edwin Jackson. William H. WOOdS 687 

A City Greenhorn. Story. Illustrated by Edwin F. Bayha F. Lovell Coombs 692 

"Nanette." Picture. Painted by W. J. Baer 695 

The Sand Waves of Oregon. Sketch, illustrated from photograph Day Allen Willey 696 

Jack. Verse. Illustrated Mabel Livingstone Frank 697 

The Clever Flamingos. Pictures. Drawn by DeWitt Clinton Falls 698 

Beatrice of Denewood. Serial Story \ !^i!2E?J2? and \ 702 

Illustrated by CM. Relyea. ' ( Alden Arthur Knipe , 

Geometry for Honey-Bees. Picture. Drawn by E. G. Lutz 709 

Tree-Top Romance. Verse. Illustrated by Gertrude A. Kay Melville Chater 710 

A June Sun-Bath for the Day-Nursery Babies. Picture. Drawn 

by Jessie Willcox Smith 712 

Faith. ( "Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects. ") George Lawrence Parker 713 

Signals and Signal-Stealing. (The Great American Game — Second 

Paper.) C. H. Claudy 714 

The Rosebud. Verse. Illustrated by E. C. Caswell Carolyn Wells 719 

The Land of Mystery. Serial Story Cleveland Moffett 720 

Illustrated by R. Talbot Kelly and Jay Hambidge. 
"Playin' Bride." Verse. Illustrated by the Author E. W. Kemble 727 

Garden-Making and Some of the Garden's Stories: II. The Story 

of the Wicked Dwarfs Grace Tabor 728 

Illustrated. Heading by Theresa Sturm Rogers. 

A Nonsense Song. Verse Oscar Llewelyn 732 

The Greedy Chicks and the Rubber Band. Picture. Drawn bv 

C. F. Lester , 732 

Old Fables Brought Up to Date : The Two Goats c J. Budd 733 

Illustrated by the Author. 

The Maryland Yellow-Throat. Verse, illustrated Le Roy Titus Weeks 734 

The Snail's Pace. Verse. Illustrated Amos R. Wells 734 

With Men Who Do Things. Serial A. Russell Bond 735 

Illustrated by Edwin F. Bavha, and from photographs. 

The Rose that went to the City Margaret Eytinge 740 

Books and Reading. Illustrated by George Varian Hildegarde Hawthorne 741 

A Dolls' Wedding. Sketch. Illustrated from photographs Mary and Marjory Woods. . . . 744 

For Very Little Folk: 

Bye-Low Land. Verse. Illustrated by Mary A. Hays Margaret G. Hays 747 

Nature and Science for Young Folks, illustrated 748 

St. Nicholas League. With Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems, 

Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles. Illustrated 756 

The Letter-Box. illustrated 765 

The Riddle-Box 767 

St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 26 

The Century ' Co. and its editors receive manuscripts and art material, submitted for publication, only on the understanding that they shall 
not be responsible for loss or injury theretoivhile in their possession or in transit. Copies of ma?iuscripts should be retained by the authors. 

In the United States and Canada, the price of The St. Nicholas Magazine is $3.00 a year in advance, or 25 cents a 
single copy, without discount or extra inducement of any kind. Foreign postage is 60 cents extra when subscribers abroad wish the 
magazine mailed directly from New York to them. We request that remittance be by money order, bank check, draft, or registered letter. 
The Century Co. reserves the right to suspend any subscription taken contrary to its selling terms, and to refund the unexpired credit. 

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 75 cents per part, or $1.50 for the complete volume. (Carriage extra.) In sending the numbers to us. they should be dis- 
tinctly marked with owner's name. Bound volumes are not exchanged for numbers. PUBLISHED MO NTH L Y. 

f^^'N^b^ *™' THE CENTURY CO. T>SH%S^S^Si5S^ mi 

1KA H. BKAlwtKU, DONALD SCOTT Treasurer 

GEORGE INNESS, JR. TJniOn Square, NeW York, N. Y. JOSIAH J. HAZEN, Ass't Treasurer 

irustees "» DOUGLAS Z. DOTY, Secretary 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




You Can WinThat Reward 



I OMINC IN YOUR NEXT NUMBER 

Cars in New York that carry eight million 

e . . .0 ... 



What a baseball manager has to do. 



nating treats for boys and girls. 




1 St. Nicholas in 1913 is a better comrade than ever for boys and girls of all ages. Beside the splendid seri; 
here will be scores of short stories, jolly jingles, beautiful pictures, and interesting, valuable articles. 
I Three dollars a year. The Century Co., Union Square, New York. 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



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. 

( William W. Ellsworth 33 East 17th Street, New York, N.Y. 

Business Managers < Ira H. Brainerd 92 William Street, New York, N.Y. 

(_ George Inness, Jr 33 East 17th Street, New York, N.Y. 

Board of Trustees 

Publishers: The Century Co 33 East 17th Street, New York, N.Y. 

Owners: Stockholders — 

William W. Ellsworth 33 East 17th Street, New York, N.Y. 

Ira H. Brainerd 92 William Street, New York, N.Y. 

George Inness, Jr 33 East 17th Street, New York, N.Y. 

Robert Underwood Johnson 33 East 17th Street, New York, N.Y. 

Donald Scott 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. 

Rodman Gilder 24 Gramercy Park, New York, N.Y. 

Marie Louise Chichester 501 West 120th Street, New York, N.Y. 

James Mapes Dodge German town, 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. 

Estate of Frank H. Scott 33 East 17th Street, New York, N.Y. 

Known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders holding 

I per cent, of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities Xone. 

William W. Ellsworth, President. 
Sworn to and subscribed before me this eighteenth day of March, 1913. 

Frances W. Marshall, Notary Public, N. Y. County. 
(Seal) (My commission expires March 30, 1913.) 



What everybody wants to know about 

PANAMA 

PAST AND PRESENT 

'T^HE wonderful story of Panama and "the biggest, cleanest job 
-■■ the world has ever seen," by Farnham Bishop, son of the 
Secretary of the Isthmian Canal Commission. 

The history of the Canal Zone, its geography, the important 
facts of the Canal's building, and of the interesting life of its 
builders, what the opening of the Canal means to America — 
a narrative of authority and keenest interest. 

The best popular treatise on the Panama Canal to date 

Many pictures, 75 cents net 

THE CENTURY CO., NEW YORK 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 






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for Fine Corre- 
spondence or Gen- 
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They have given 
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When you select 
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When you think of writing think of Whiting 







St. Nicholas League "Special" Advertising Competition No. I. 

Time to hand in answers is up June /j. Winners announced in August number. 
This is the same competition run last month, as follows: 

SPECIAL COMPETITION 

Open to ALL readers of St. Nicholas Magazine 

\\ J"E have noticed how many clever boys and girls there are among the members of the 
** St. Nicholas League. Perhaps you are just as clever, even though you may not be a 
member. At any rate, we are going to put you all to the test. 

We want a suitable heading in our Advertising sections for school advertisements. 

We are going to give a prize of $10.00 to the boy or girl who submits the most attractive 
school heading for St. Nicholas. It may be in pencil, pen and ink, wash drawings or 
colors, but it should be original and appropriate for a page of school and college advertise- 
ments. It should be about i l /z inches deep by 5>2 inches wide. Mr. Harry R. Till's head- 
ing on page 468 of the March St. NICHOLAS expresses the idea. 

There is no age limit, but each contribution must bear the name and address of the sender. 
As many designs as desired may be submitted, but it is, of course, better to have one care- 
fully worked sketch than three or four ordinary ones. Use only one side of paper. 

Address replies to 

"Special Competition," Century Co., 33 East 17th St., New York City. 

Here is a splendid opportunity for our young artists and illustrators to earn some vacation 
money. Would n't you be proud to see your heading being used in St. Nicholas every month? 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




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i.: - ,. t,,i-- - i\Z 




"AS I WAS GOING TO ST. IVES." 



PAINTED FOR ST. NICHOLAS BY ARTHUR RACKHAM. 



ST. NICHOLAS 



Vol. XL 



JUNE, 1913 



No. 8 







As I was going to St. Ives, 
I met a Man with seven Wives. 
Each Wife had seven Sacks, 
Each Sack had seven Cats, 
Each Cat had seven Kits. 

Kits, Cats, Sacks, and Wives, 
How many were going to St. Ives ? 



II 

Two legs sat upon three legs, 

With one leg in his lap ; 

In comes four legs, 

And runs away with one leg ; 

Up jumps two legs, 

Catches up three legs, 

Throws it after four legs, 

And makes him bring back one le£ 



Vol. XL.— 85. 



Copyright, 1913, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 
673 




A THATCHED COTTAGE. BUILT IN 1666. 



THE "ROYAL" MAY-DAY FESTIVAL 



BY M. L. ANDREWS 



Few American travelers in England fail to visit 
the quaint old town of Chester. And if you 
should slip away from Chester by foot or car- 
riage into the region roundabout, you would find 

yourself in a de- 
lightful district of 
rural England. 

For here are the 
village church with 
taper spire, the 
mill beside the wil- 




certain spring morning, you take that coach so 
providentially in sight, you may arrive at Knuts- 
ford in time for the "Royal" May-day Festival. 

The Forest will be all alive to-day, 

There '11 music be and children singing songs, 

And dancing round the May-pole in a ring. 

To grown-up folk, Knutsford has been made 
famous because Mrs. Gaskell wrote about it in a 
wonderful story called "Cranford." To girls and 
boys, it may be somewhat surprising to learn 




in 1614. 

lowy brook, the meadows 

abloom, the fields dressed THE q UEEN approaching the throne. 

in gold and white; a nar- 
row highway screened by hawthorn hedges, an that the honor of maintaining the glorious tradi- 
old-time coach just coming into view, and if, on a tions of Britain's earliest festival has been con- 

674 



THE "ROYAL" MAY-DAY FESTIVAL 



675 



ceded to so small a community. Yet, for the last 
fifty years, Knutsford has never failed to break 
its genteel silence on the coming of the May, 
and always observes the ancient customs of the 
festival of birds and blossoms by the crowning 
of a May-queen and the twining of the May-pole 
with garlands from the woods. And the fes- 
tival has grown in size and character until now 
thousands of visitors gather in Knutsford, on 
this first day of England's summer, to enjoy the 
oldest, prettiest, and only "royal" May-day festi- 
val in all the kingdom. 



Since then, the festival has grown year by 
year more beautiful in detail, more gorgeous in 
costume, while, by invitation of the "Royal" 
Committee, representatives of all the civilized 
countries of the globe have gathered in this rustic 
village to pay homage to the "queen of May." 

The old black-and-white buildings of the town, 
the thatched roofs, the high, uneven pavements 
of the narrow streets, form a harmonious setting 
for the passage of the sedan-chair and other old- 
time features. Garlands of evergreen festooned 
with gay spring flowers arch the winding course 




THE THRONE SCENE ON THE HEATH. 



Knutsford itself might almost be termed 
"royal," for tradition has it that this very an- 
cient town was founded by King Canute, of fa- 
mous memory, when he forded the river at this 
point. But Knutsford can boast many more re- 
cent favors from royalty. The Princess Victoria, 
a year or two before she came to the throne, was 
greatly pleased with the town. In 1887, the then 
Prince and Princess of Wales attended the May 
festival, and granted the privilege of affixing 
"Royal" to the name of the festival itself and 
the committee of arrangements. 



of the procession up hill and down dale, from 
"top" (Princess Street)to "bottom"(King Street). 
The fairies and elves that crowd the line with dance 
and song might well have come from out the wood 
that presses close upon the half-concealed town. 
Robin Hood has once more eluded the doughty 
sheriff of Nottingham, and, with Maid Marian 
and Will Scarlet, is seen upon the street, in his 
old-time costume, and is already taking note of 
the merry companies of morris-dancers who have 
come in to Knutsford from all the country-side. 
The appearance of several promenaders in quaint, 



676 



THE "ROYAL" MAY-DAY FESTIVAL 



old-fashioned costumes leads us to imagine that 
Mother Goose, that famous writer of the earliest 
natural history book, has sent a large company of 
her best lords and ladies, lads and lassies, to join 
in the revels and add to the merriment of the day. 

But the procession is now entering upon the 
heath, where some two thousand spectators are 
awaiting the arrival of the queen and the begin- 
ning of the revels. The shrill notes of the heralds 
announcing the appearance of the "court" are all 
but drowned in the tumultuous applause which 
greets the "royal" carriages. Preceded by court 
ladies and courtiers, pages and maids of honor, 
resplendent in velvet cloaks and coronets, the 
royal carriage makes its slow approach, sur- 
rounded by the "Royal May-day Foot-guards." 
Her Highness is accompanied by her ladies in 
waiting and train-bearers. Having encircled the 
heath, the May-queen descends from her carriage, 
and, attended by her principal ladies and courtiers, 
is escorted to her richly decorated throne. 

Before one can tire of the charming picture— 
the youthful queen resting in simple dignity upon 
the throne, surrounded by her regally appareled 
"court" — the crown-bearer, with all proper her- 
alding and fanfares, slowly advances, and, with 
several obeisances, comes into the presence of 



her royal Highness, and places the symbolic 
crown upon her head. The musicians greet the 
coronation ceremony with appropriate harmonies, 
and the crowds with uncovered heads cheer 
lustily as the crown-bearer gracefully bows him- 
self from her Majesty's presence, and the scep- 
ter-bearer proclaims, as he yields up the emblem 
of sovereignty, "I hail thee Queen of the May." 

The honors of the festival having been thus 
happily bestowed upon their chosen queen, the 
children abandon themselves to the full enjoy- 
ment of the sports, all the characters, to the 
number of some four hundred, opening the rev- 
els with a combined dance which proves one of 
the prettiest spectacles of the day. The tam- 
bourine dance, the sword-dance, and the horn- 
pipe dance follow in quick succession. The 
courtiers' coronation dance prefaces the plaiting 
of the May-pole by the flower dancers- 
Some crowned with bluebells, some with primroses, 
As if the rainbow's colours they 'd unwove. 

Now follows the morris-dance, and now, to the 
strains of the national anthem, the queen retires 
from her throne, and thus ends the official pro- 
gram of another "Royal" May-day Festival in 
quaint old Knutsford. 





THE "ROYAL" MAY-QUEEN OF I912. 



THE "ROYAL' MAY-QUEEN OF 19II. 



SETTLING THE QUESTION 



'tea 





J hnov? itou \\>ill think it outradeous — 
In fact I admit it mjPsclf— 
But I never could tell just the difference 
< 7\*H>£t a Gnome and a Sprite and an6lf. 

J Hope, little folks, £ou 11 fordive me; 
I confess J am not %>er5> smart? 
But,no\x? that J'\>e seen #ou together. 
Perhaps I can tell #ou apart. 



kCONQVERORS 




THE TORCH-BEARER OF THE DARK CONTINENT SHI 



Mrs. Livingstone stood in the doorway looking 
down on her sleeping boy. With his tousled hair 
dark against the white pillows and his eyelashes 
dark against his pale cheeks, he lay there in the 
feeble light of the winter dawn, looking particu- 
larly small and particularly glad to dream. In- 
deed, the mother wished she did not have to wake 
her little David. He was o'er young to work ! 
Hardly more than a bairn, after all. But it had 
to be done. First she called ; then she touched 
him gently ; then she put her cheek down close to 
his and tried by her warm Scotch love to soften 
the hard news — that morning had really come, 
and he must rub his blue eyes open, dress, and 
reach the factory by six o'clock. This was ninety 
years ago, before there was much talk about that 
cruel thing, child labor. The Livingstones were 
poor. There were many children, and David was 
next to the oldest. He expected to help, and his 
father and mother expected it of him. 

The lad had to be in his place at six. Then, 
with a short time out to rest and eat, his little 
hands would tie broken threads till eight at night. 
Fixed to the spinning-jenny was a Latin gram- 
mar, bought with his first wages, so that while his 
fingers were busy with their mechanical task, his 
brain could keep pace with the boys at school. 
No doubt those boys were yawning over their 
verbs that very minute, and no doubt all the boys, 
including little David, would rather play on the 
banks of the singing Clyde. Its music suited a 
child's spirit a great deal better than the whir of 
wheels ; and the winter wind blowing over its 
waters, nipping though it was, was better for a 
child's blood than the dust-filled air of the fac- 
tory. As for sunshine, David hardly knew its 
flicker any more ; he who had loved so much to 



gather shells and flowers ! He would plod home 
by starlight or no light, as the weather decreed, 
so that, if the school of darkness was the best 
preparation for life in the "Dark Continent," his 
training was indeed rare. 

Lives of most of the great men prove that those 
with the least time hold it at the highest value. 
It is with time as with money. The poor man, if 
he is wise, values five cents more than does the 
millionaire ; David Livingstone valued a minute 
more than the boy of endless leisure. Free time 
was dear to him. But after the long factory day 
was over, bed was the place for a child of ten. 
For his golden minutes of freedom, sound sleep 
was the best investment. As the lad grew older, 
however, he felt compelled to wrench from life 
something besides drudgery and dreams, and so, 
in those precious leisure moments, he studied his- 
tory, politics, and literature, puzzled out crea- 
tion's secrets locked away in flowers and stones, 
and at nineteen had saved enough money and 
stored up enough knowledge to go to Glasgow 
and enter the university. As a boy, religious 
books had been hateful reading. Deacon Living- 
stone would fain have had his son love his cate- 
chism ; but up to this time, David had taken little 
interest in religion. Now he made up his mind 
to devote his life to making men better ; and ac- 
cordingly, when he went to Glasgow, it was to 
study for the ministry. Here, as Dr. Hillis puts 
it, "He hired a garret, cooked his oatmeal and 
studied, made a little tea and studied, went forth 
to walk, but studied ever." 

One cf his first attempts at preaching was 
enough to make a weaker man give up preaching, 
for life. He was sent to Stanford to supply a 
sick minister's place; but no sooner had he given 



6 7 8 



THE TORCH-BEARER OF THE DARK CONTINENT 



679 



out his text, than something queer happened. 
"Midnight darkness came upon him." "My 
friends," he said, with his frank straightforward- 
ness, "I have forgotten all I had to say " Then 
down he came from the pulpit and went out at the 
chapel door. We can imagine it perfectly : his 
young face crimson, his shoes creaking with each 
fatal step, and the little congregation, some laugh- 
ing, some pitying, but almost all remembering the 
failure for years to come. 

But Livingstone was not to be beaten by one 
defeat. Because he longed above everything else 
to be a missionary, he studied surgery at the med- 
ical college ; he would want to heal men's bodies 
as well as save their souls. To his common sense, 
it seemed much easier to win confi- 
dence by curing pain or saving life 
than by preaching strange doctrines, 
no matter how good. If his common 
sense had not told him this, his Mas- 
ter's example, as the world's great 
healer, would have done it. And Da- 
vid Livingstone needed no better ex- 
ample. 

As soon as he had decided on 
Africa as the land for his work, the 
whole world tried to scare him— no, 
not his family, and not Dr. Moffat, 
but most of those outside his family. 
When Dr. Moffat, himself an Afri- 
can missionary, looked into the 
young man's fearless eyes, he read 
there the courage Africa would 
need. But people in general did 
their best to frighten him. Death, 
they said, would meet him at every 
turn ; between African fever, savage 
natives, and the merciless power of 
the sun, he would be cut off in the prime of his 
youth and hopefulness. The Missionary Board 
itself would not be held responsible for any such 
risk. If he went, he could go independently. 

Despite all these threats and warnings, the 
strong heart was unshaken. A steamer would 
sail for Africa almost immediately, and on that 
steamer Livingstone would go. He hurried home 
to say good-by. It was evening before he reached 
the dear old door, and in the early morning he 
must leave again. So till midnight he and his 
father and mother, three understanding hearts, 
talked over the fears and hopes of his journey — 
steadfast, all three, yet finding the parting bit- 
terly hard. When the sun flushed the sky with 
the light of dawn, David read, with brave sim- 
plicity, "Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror 
by night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day." 
Then, leaving his mother in the open doorway, he 



set out on his seven-mile walk to Glasgow. His 
father strode beside him till they reached the top 
of one of the high hills, when the good-by of their 
life was said. 

If David Livingstone had been a cold-hearted 
man, the bravery needed for his African explora- 
tions would have been purely physical. Whether 
he was to meet fever, savages, or sunstroke, or 
even all three, physical bravery alone would have 
been enough ; but he took with him into the deso- 
lation a great, warm heart pounding with love of 
home. I suppose the very poorness of it was dear: 
the old sofa ; the faded carpet ; the fire that had 
not always kept them warm; dearest of all, the 
faces around the fire. David Livingstone needed 




Photograph by Underwood & 



d, N. Y. 



SHUTTLE ROW, BLANTYRE, NEAR GLASGOW, SCOTLAND, WHERE DAVID 
LIVINGSTONE WAS BORN, MARCH 19, 1813. 



a great deal more than physical courage to face 
that life of loneliness. 

Since most of us would find it tiresome to fol- 
low Livingstone's long journeys even on the map, 
we will pay little attention to geography. It is \ 
far better to remember that, to him, every name 
and every mile meant an experience — those names 
and miles that are too tedious for us to read 
about. As he traveled, not only was he making 
geography (seeking to discover the source of the 
Nile), but he was trying to rid the land of sla- 
very, and to teach the people a happy religion. 
These were his three great aims. But to us his 
story is so full of poetry and action that it reads 
like a wonderful book of adventure. Sometimes, 
as we follow his hairbreadth escapes, we forget 
entirely that he was a missionary, and think he 
must have explored for excitement or fame. We 
must not do this. While he was as daring as the 



680 



MORE THAN CONQUERORS 



[June, 



bravest explorer, he never faltered in his pur- 
pose ; he had, above all else, the motive of re- 
deeming Africa. 

Before he could do anything for the Africans, 
however, he had to learn their language. This 
took seven months. After landing at the Cape 
of Good Hope, the very southern tip of Africa, 
he struck into the forest, and there he lived, the 
one white man among the half-naked black sav- 
ages, learning their speech and their ways. If a 
man' from another planet should suddenly stand 
before you in the center of your city, he would 
not seem as queer to you as David Livingstone 
seemed to these black natives. We can have no 
idea what they thought of him, whether he was a 
miracle, or just a new kind of animal. But night 
after night he lay down to sleep among them 
with a fearlessness that was, in itself, power. "I 
trust you," his placid face would say, without 
speech. And without speech, armed and won- 
dering, they would answer, "We are worthy of 
your trust." They were not, except as his trust 
had made them so. They themselves did not 
know why they did not kill him as he slept there 
among them unprotected. 

He first won their confidence as a "rain-maker." 
By leading "runnels from the river," he taught 
them to irrigate ; the desert changed to a fruitful 
valley. "He is a wizard," they said. "He brings 
water to dry ground." As time went on, he 
taught them to make gardens, raise cattle, and 
build houses. He taught their young people 
everything practical, from carpentry to taking 
care of the sick. After his marriage to Dr. Mof- 
fat's daughter, his wife taught the girls dress- 
making. She was as brimful of bravery as her 
husband. She and the children spent many years 
in England for the children's health and educa- 
tion; but all the time she was in Africa, she was 
a strong help to the "doctor." And Livingstone's 
short holidays at home were very precious. 
With a child on each knee, he loved to turn his 
dangers into stories, and see the young eyes grow 
big with terror while all the time he and the 
children knew that he got away safely. 

Truly the swamps and jungles, where he spent 
his brave life, were frightsome enough. Trees 
one hundred feet high, festooned with tangled 
vines, shut out the sun, and snakes wriggled 
round in the tangle. Now Livingstone was stung 
by nettles, now, for days together, drenched by 
rain. At night, his only shelter was an over- 
'turned canoe. Thirst, sunstroke, and famine, all 
threatened death, just as the friends in Scotland 
had prophesied. "A mole and two mice" do not 
seem, to us, like a tempting supper. One evening, 
Livingstone and his men were glad enough to 



get that. When he was starving, he wished he 
would not dream of "savory viands." "Took my 
belt up three holes to relieve hunger," reads one 
day's journal. His cattle died, his goods, includ- 
ing his precious medicines, were stolen. The 
rivers they swam or waded were the homes of 
many crocodiles. Not only was he attacked by 
serpents, lions, buffaloes, and hippopotami, but 
he was constantly harassed by tsetse-flies and 
ants. 

"The Majestic Sneak" was Dr. Livingstone's 
nickname for the lion. Drawn by the smell of 
meat, he would come near the camp and roar. 

If "lions attacked the herds in open day, or 
leaped into the cattle-pens by night," one had to 
be killed to scare off the others. Though it took 
tremendous courage to lead lion-hunts, Living- 
stone was the man who could do it. He mustered 
his men. Around a group of lions hiding on a 
wooded hill they formed a circle, but were afraid 
to throw their spears. Some one fired. Three 
animals, roaring, leaped through the line and 
escaped unhurt, while the panic-stricken natives 
huddled back into the circle. For very kinkiness, 
their hair could not stand upright; but their 
knees shook, and their eyes rolled with terror. 
Those who could shoot were afraid of killing 
their fellows. Since the whole attack seemed as 
useless as it was dangerous, the circle broke up, 
and the party was about to return to the village, 
when, from the other side of the hill, Living- 
stone made out the outline of a tawny foe. About 
thirty yards away, the lion crouched behind a 
bush. Livingstone took good aim and "fired both 
barrels into it." 

"He is shot ! he is shot !" shouted the men. 

"He has been shot by another man too; let us 
go to him," cried others. 

"Stop a little till I load again," warned Liv- 
ingstone, who saw the "lion's tail erected in 
anger." Then, as he "rammed down the bullets," 
he "heard a shout, and, looking half round, saw 
the lion springing upon him." "He caught me 
by the shoulder," reads his vivid account, "and 
we both came to the ground together. Growling 
horribly, he shook me as a terrier dog does a 
rat." Then a dreaminess like the effect of chloro- 
form came over the great doctor. Though he 
knew what was happening, he had no "sense of 
pain or terror." "As he had one paw on the back 
of my head," the journal continues, "I turned 
round to relieve myself of the weight, and saw 
his eyes directed to Mabalue, who was aiming at 
him from a distance of ten or fifteen yards. His 
gun, which was a flint one, missed fire in both 
barrels. The animal immediately left me to at- 
tack him. Another man, whose life I had saved 



I9I3-] 



THE TORCH-BEARER OF THE DARK CONTINENT 



681 



after he had been tossed by a buffalo, attempted 
to spear the lion, upon which he turned from 
Mabalue and seized this fresh foe by the shoul- 
der. At that moment, the bullets the beast had 
received, took effect, and he fell dead. The 
whole was the work of a few moments." 




ipw^iV^ 



I 




*!E. *<•> 



' HE CAUGHT ME BY THE SHOULDER, AND WE BOTH CAME 
TO THE GROUND TOGETHER.' " 



In his account, Livingstone made light of his 
injured bones and of the deep prints in his arm 
of eleven sharp teeth. "I have escaped with only 
the inconvenience of a false joint," he says sim- 
ply, and is thankful for his tartan jacket that 
Vol. XI,.— 86. 



partly protected him from those cruel teeth, and 
so saved his life. 

This was, perhaps, his most exciting lion-fight ; 
but the lions were familiar neighbors all the time. 
Livingstone could keep even for the lions a kind 
of understanding friendliness. Human enough 
to see their point of view, 
he adds to his description 
of "dripping forests and 
oozing bogs," "A lion had 
wandered into this world 
of water and ant-hills, and 
roared night and morning, 
as if very much disgusted. 
We could sympathize with 
him." 

He liked to watch all the 
different animals. In two 
sentences he tells of an- 
other adventure: "I killed 
a snake seven feet long. He 
reared up before me and 
turned to fight." Evidently 
bragging was not in his 
line. 

But if it came to honor- 
ing the natives, his journal 
could give that generous 
space. "Their chief char- 
acteristic is their courage. 
Their hunting is the brav- 
est thing I ever saw." Then 
he goes on to describe 
a hippopotamus-hunt. The 
game, if won, could be trad- 
ed for maize. There were 
two men in each light craft. 
"As they guide the canoe 
slowly down-stream to a 
sleeping hippopotamus, not 
a single ripple is raised on 
the smooth water ; they look 
as if holding in their breath, 
and communicate by signs 
only. As they come near 
the prey, the harpooner in 
the bow lays down his pad- 
dle and rises slowly up, and 
there he stands erect, mo- 
tionless, and eager, with the 
long-handled weapon poised 
at arm's-length above his 
head, till, coming close to the beast, he plunges 
it with all his might in toward the heart." Sur- 
prised from sleep by sudden pain, the animal 
does not fight at once. But the instant the "enor- 
mous jaws appear, with a terrible grunt, above 



i"**?* 



fT. Sc-h m " 



mM«* »*'. 3 



682 



MORE THAN CONQUERORS 



[June, 



the water, the men must thrust a second har- 
poon, this time from directly above. Then comes 
the battle. In a flash, the paddlers shoot the 
canoe backward, before hippo "crunches it as 
easily as a pig would a bunch of asparagus, or 
shivers it with a kick of his hind foot." If the 
canoe is attacked, the men must "dive, and swim 




1 /=? 3"imic)r: 



" SUSI RUSHED IN, GASPING, 'AN ENGLISHMAN! I SEE HIM!'" (SEE PAGE 684.) 

to the shore under water," playing a trick on 
their huge gray enemy, who will look for them 
on the surface. Meantime the handles, tied to 
the harpoons by long ropes, are floating on the 
stream, and from a distance other paddlers in 
other canoes seize them. 

But there were not only lions, serpents, hippo- 
potami, buffaloes, and other big foes, which any 
one would have dreaded, but there were hordes 
of tiny enemies: swarms of mosquitos, stinging 



men almost to madness; tsetse-flies, killing off in 
a short time "forty-three fine oxen"; pests of ants 
that produced a burning agony; and leeches that 
flew at his white skin "like furies, and refused 
to let go," until he gave them a "smart slap" as 
the natives did. 

So much for the miseries of this jungle world. 
It had its beauties— great 
ones, too. Livingstone has 
left us a noble picture of 
the kingdom where animals 
reign. "Hundreds of buffa- 
loes and zebras grazed on the 
open spaces, and there stood 
lordly elephants feeding ma- 
jestically. . . . When we de- 
scended, we found all the 
animals remarkably tame. 
The elephants stood beneath 
the trees, fanning themselves 
with their huge ears." He 
wrote with affection. He 
gloried in the crimsons and 
deep blues of the African 
tangle, and in the flowers 
that made a "golden carpet." 
It was as if the ten-year-old 
Scotch laddie, cheated long 
ago of his sunshine, found it 
at last through sacrifice. No 
vast experience in great af- 
fairs could spoil his happi- 
ness in little things— in the 
songs of birds, the freshness 
of the morning ; in every- 
thing that "God made very 
good." And half his heart 
seems at home in Scotland. 
There was a river "beautiful 
like the Clyde" ; larks that 
did not "soar so high," or 
stay "so long on the wing as 
ours" ; "a tree in flower 
brought the pleasant fra- 
grance of hawthorn hedges 
back to memory." Some days 
the whole world seemed 
steeped in clear sunshine, the air filled with the 
hum of insects and the "courtship" of full- 
throated birds. Livingstone watched them "play 
at making little homes," or carrying nest-feathers 
too heavy for their strength ; and often he fed 
them with bread-crumbs, he who had so little 
bread. 

Into the tangled darkness of Africa, the torch- 
bearer carried a light ; and, for the first time, eyes 
dull almost to blindness, saw life — clean, honest, 



I9I.3-] 



THE TORCH BEARER OF THE DARK CONTINENT 



683 



V-*JMMl 





THE MEETING OF LIVINGSTONE AND STANLEY. 



and peaceful. Like children, the savages were 
quick to imitate. "From nothing I say will they / 
learn as much as from what I am," was Living-" 
stone's great doctrine. If the life-sermon failed, 
no word-sermon could win. And so, for exam- 
ple as well as for his own comfort, he kept him- 
self, and everything he had, scrupulously neat. 
He taught them to despise a man who struck an- 
other in the back. By his own proved fearless- 
ness and by appealing to their own bravery, he 
made them ashamed to be sneaks. 

Livingstone offered no miracles. Still treating 
them as untaught children, he pleased them with 
music, and showed his magic-lantern pictures of 
his Master's life. 

"It is the Word from heaven," they said. But 
most of them grasped little except that the one 
who bore the Word was hjmself good. His ge- 
nius was the genius of the heart. The natives 
trusted him more than they could trust father or 
brother ; and when once their love was won, they 
thanked him by their faithfulness. 

Of the horrors of the slave trade, it is enough 
to quote his own words: "The subject does not 



admit of exaggeration." His accounts, further 
than this, are only too vivid. "She is somebody's 
bairn," he would say pityingly, as he saw some 
poor chained creature. Three times Livingstone 
built for himself a house, only to have it de- 
stroyed by slave-traders, who hated him fiercely. 
After that, he was forever homeless. What Lin- 
coln did for America, Livingstone did for Africa.' 
The Boers, whose chief commerce was in slaves, 
destroyed all his possessions. "They have saved 
me the trouble of making a will," he said. Three 
times in one day he nearly lost his life, for his 
was the life they were seeking. 

Great physical courage he needed, then, but 
much more. For three years, he heard no news 
from home ; for two, the world heard nothing of 
him. "Oh, for one hour a day to play with my 
children !" he would think. Early in his African 
experience one of his babies had died in the wil- 
derness. Years later, his boy Robert went to 
America, and there, like his father, spent him- 
self for the slaves— he fought and fell at Gettys- 
burg. When Livingstone was on his way home 
from his first journey, his father died. 



684 



MORE THAN CONQUERORS 



"You wished so much to see David," said the 
old man's daughter. 

"Aye, very much," with Scotch strength. "But 
I think I '11 know whatever is worth knowing 
about him. Tell him I think so when you see him." 

To Dr. Livingstone's delight, his wife sailed 
with him back to Africa. But the dreadful fever 
took her away. "Oh, my Mary ! my Mary ! how 
often we have longed for a quiet home since you 
and I were cast adrift," he sobbed. "For the first 
time in my life, I feel willing to die." Yet, in his 
bitterest loneliness, he sustained himself with the 
promise, "Lo, I am with you always, even unto 
the end of the world." In his original way he 
added, "It is the word of a Gentleman of the 
most sacred and strictest honor, and there is an 
end on't." 

Long before now, the London Missionary So- 
ciety had given Livingstone its strong support. 
His home-comings were real triumphs ! medals, 
degrees, receptions — all the honors that England 
showers upon her heroes. Livingstone hated such 
a fuss. He would rather meet a lion in the 
jungle than be made a lion in public. With no 
thought of his own glory, he set forth the com- 
mercial value of Africa : its fruits, its furs, its 
ivory. But his strongest appeal was for the 
slaves. Self-forgetful always, on his careful 
maps were two names of his own choosing. The 
beautiful cataract, described by the natives as 
"Smoke that sounds," he named Victoria Falls 
for the "Great White Queen" ; and he named a 
lake for his hero, Lincoln. 

In September, 1865, he left England for the 
last time. Two years later, we find him again in 
the heart of Africa — a world all "froth and 
ooze." Again his goods have been stolen and he 
himself is a mere skeleton. Exhausted by ex- 
ploration and sickness, with no news from home 
or from any one, his "forward tread" is a poor 
totter. Death is the best he can hope for; no 
"good Samaritan" can possibly pass by. But sud- 
denly, out of utter hopelessness, his faithful black 
man, Susi, rushed in, gasping, "An Englishman ! 
I see him !" 

Never was an American flag so dear to a 
Scotchman as those stars and stripes to Living- 
stone ! And never was a stage action more 
dramatic than Stanley's unexpected entrance — 
another white man in that unknown wilderness, 
bringing food, clothing, and medicine — every- 
thing a desolate, dying man could need. Letters? 
Yes, a bagful. Livingstone read two from his 
children ; then he demanded the news. "Tell me 
the news. How is the world getting on? Grant, 
President? Good! It is two years since I have 



heard a word !" The story of Stanley's and Liv- 
ingstone's friendship is too beautiful to miss. 
Every one should read it for himself. In the 
joy of their companionship, Livingstone grew 
rapidly better: his eyes brightened; his briskness 
and his youthfulness came back, together with 
that great, sweet spirit that Stanley never forgot. 
But when Stanley urged him to come away with 
him, Livingstone steadily refused. Africa might 
need him yet. 

But his work was nearly over. During his 
long, wearying illness, however, he had the com- 
fort of seeing his "boys' " faithfulness. They 
gave their blankets for his bed; they carried him 
on a litter over land ; and on their shoulders 
through the flood. By his torch they had lighted 
theirs, and learned that brotherhood is true re- 
ligion. Then, on a May morning, in 1873, one 
watcher alarmed the rest : "Come to Bwana ; I 
am afraid. I don't know if he is alive." Susi, 
Chumah, and four others ran to the tent. There, 
by the bedside, with his face buried in the pillow, 
knelt their doctor, dead ! 

What to do they did not know ; and he could 
not tell them any more. They wanted to keep 
him in Africa, but thought that his friends would 
want him home. And so, one of them reading the 
burial service, they laid his heart to rest where 
he had worked ; but his body, cased in tree-bark 
and sail-cloth, they carried over a thousand miles 
to the ship that would bear it home. Gratitude 
has been called "the memory of the heart." Of 
all heart-memories, is there a better proof than 
this? The Samoans, who dug the road for Ste- 
venson, could count on appreciation ; but Liv- 
ingstone's friends, with their dog-like fidelity, 
could never hope for a word, a look, a smile of 
thanks. One of the boys who made that hard 
journey was a slave he had freed. 

England, proud to do him honor, gave him a 
place in Westminster Abbey, among her poets 
and her kings. On the black slab above him we 
may read : 



Brought by faithful hands 
Over land and sea 

Here Rests 

David Livingstone 

Missionary, Traveler, Philanthropist 

Born March 19, 1813 

Died May I, 1873 



and on the border of the stone: 

Other sheep I have which are not of this fold ; them 
also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice. 











THE LILAC-TREE 

BY LAURA SPENCER PORTOR 



I never had a lilac-tree ; 

I wish that I had one, 
With all its purple candles 

A-lighted in the sun, 
And all its sweetest perfume 

Like smoke upon the breeze, 
And all its dusty lilac leaves 

Like other lilac-trees. 

I 'd do without the larkspur — 

I would not care at all ; 
I 'd do without the burning-bush 

Against the garden wall. 
I 'd do without the hollyhocks ; 
I 'd do without the four-o'clocks ; 
I 'd do without the curly-locks, 
The snowballs, and the lady-smocks ; 
I 'd do without the almond bush, 
Gold daffodils, and purple phlox. 

Oh, once there were two lilac-trees, 

All purple and all white, 
That kept their candles lighted 

In the garden day and night ! 
They grew so tall ; they smelled so sweet ; 

They were unlucky, though, 
And so the gardener cut them down 

For other trees to grow. 

But, oh, I 'd love a lilac-tree ! 

I would not care at all ; 
I 'd do without the burning-bush 

Against the garden wall ; 
I 'd do without the hollyhocks; 
I 'd do without the four-o'clocks, 
The larkspur, and the purple phlox. 
I 'd rather have a lilac-tree ! — 

Oh, I wish that I had one, 
With all its lilac candles 

A-lighted in the sun ! 







T^ms^s, T©sim p mizadl M.©dl IL®. 



Tamsy was just turning away from the window, 
when she caught a glimpse of a figure on the 
lawn. The moon was nearly down, and the shad- 
ows of the maples were so deep, that she could 
not be certain she had seen anything. But, look- 
ing intently, she saw, now beyond a doubt, a 
mounted horseman move across the grass. It 
was the time of the Night-Riders in Kentucky, 
and for a moment the girl was startled. But she 
soon recognized her brother, Tom, on his young 
saddle-horse, Red Lass ; and for some minutes, 
Tamsy, at her dark window, watched the Lass 
racking, single-footing, cantering, and moving at 
any other gait the most accomplished Kentucky 
saddle-animal is supposed to have. Tamsy did 
not know what it meant. But she knew that Tom 
was devoted to the young horse he had raised, 
and lately broken for his own use, and that it was 
not at all beyond him to go out at midnight for a 
little practice. The girl turned away at length 
with a smile, and an unspoken wish that her only 
brother was not quite so fond of horses. 

Tamsy was to start the next morning for Louis- 
ville, to begin her last year at school, and the 
comedy on the dark lawn slipped her memory for 
a little while. Tamsy's school life had been very 
successful. She had taken and kept her place at 
the head of the class with a quiet confidence 
rather unusual in one so young; and she had, 
moreover, developed literary ability that had at- 
tracted attention outside her school circle. She 
was going back now with bright anticipations, 
enhanced by the fact that for a while it had 
looked as if she were not to go back at all. The 



Coyles were far from being wealthy, and it had 
only been within the fortnight, and after vigor- 
ous effort, that Tom had been able to manage it. 

"I can't imagine yet how he raised the money," 
she said at the breakfast table next morning, 
"and I feel as if I could n't thank him enough. I 
wish he had n't hurried off before I started. What 
took him to town so early, Mother?" 

"It 's court-day in Lexington," Mrs. Coyle an- 
swered, "and Tom had business there he was anx- 
ious about ; and he thought he had better bid you 
good-by last night." 

"I saw a good deal of him after the good-by," 
said Tamsy, smiling; and she told her mother of 
the midnight ride. 

Mrs. Coyle listened with evident interest ; but, 
to Tamsy's surprise, seemed rather troubled than 
amused. 

"You don't appreciate the funny side of it as I 
do, Mother," she said at last. "But I would n't 
mind. Tom 's a dear, good boy, but you know he 
always was a tiny bit horsy." 

A rare pink came into Mrs. Coyle's cheeks, and 
she looked up with shining eyes. 

"Tom may not have quite the same tastes you 
have, Tamsy," said she ; "and he has not gone to 
college, because his health would not allow it, and 
because there was not money enough for you 
both. But if you think I am troubled by what 
you call your brother's horsy ways, you are very 
much mistaken. He is only a year older than 
you, and, ignorant as we are of business affairs, I 
do not know what would have become of us, if 
it had not been for Tom." 



687 



688 



A BLUE-GRASS GIRL 



[JuNfi, 



Tamsy made quick amends for her speech, and 
parted from her mother with all the old affection. 
But the conversation awakened questions in the 
girl's mind that would not down. Had she abused 
their affection and their pride in her success? 
Had she been selfish? She could not find in her 
own mind a wholly satisfactory answer. 

Madam Donan, principal of Edgewood Semi- 
nary, in the suburbs of Louisville, and Miss Jack- 
son, professor of belles-lettres, were in the parlor 
when Tamsy reached Edgewood. 

"A hearty welcome, Mr. President," said 
Madam, kissing the girl's cheek. "Should I say 
'Mr. President' or 'Miss President,' Miss Jack- 
son? I hardly know which is correct." 

"Neither, just yet, I should say," was the mat- 
ter-of-fact reply. "Have you had a pleasant sum- 
mer, Miss Coyle?" 

"Delightful," said Tamsy; and added some po- 
lite inquiry about Miss Jackson's vacation. But 
the flush that had risen in her cheeks at Miss 
Jackson's remark was slow to leave. That re- 
mark, and Madam's as well, voiced, it was true, 
the general impression that Tamsy would be the 
new class-president ; but it annoyed the girl to 
have it thus publicly taken for granted. 

It soon became clear, however, that Tamsy 
would be elected without opposition. But as the 
presidency meant inevitable additional expense, 
and the getting back to school at all had been so 
doubtful, her election was a possibility she had 
not mentioned at home. Happily for Tamsy, just 
at this time, a story she had entered in a maga- 
zine competition won a prize of one hundred dol- 
lars. She was glad to be able to write home, 
therefore, that the presidency would mean no 
more expense to them. 

The class-election was still a fortnight away, 
when Tamsy went into Louisville with Miss Jack- 
son on a shopping trip. As they were turning 
into Fourth Street, they heard a sudden noise, 
cries, and shouts, with the quick trampling of 
hoofs ; and the next instant, a plunging, rearing 
horse, hitched to a doctor's phaeton, dashed into 
sight. The driver was using the whip, and the 
horse, mad with pain and fright, reared straight 
up in air, and, losing its balance, fell to the pave- 
ment with a crash. 

Miss Jackson, who was on the crossing, in- 
stantly darted back to the sidewalk, dragging 
Tamsy by the arm. But, to her amazement, the 
girl pulled herself free, stepped quickly into the 
street, and took hold of the bridle-reins close by 
the bit, and still held them when the trembling 
animal struggled to its feet — Tamsy had recog- 
nized Red Lass ! 



"Whoa, Lass! Steady, girl, steady!" she said, 
stroking with one hand the horse's neck, while 
with the other she clung to the bridle. "Put down 
that whip!" she called to the astonished driver, 
and turned again to her task of soothing the 
horse. 

The thing had happened so quickly that Miss 
Jackson had been speechless. But now she cried 
out, "Miss Coyle, I insist that you come away 
from there at once. This is ridiculous !" 

Tamsy did not seem to hear. The groom had 
now scrambled out of the phaeton, and went to 
the horse's head. 

"Look at those great welts there on her side," 
Tamsy said to him, with flashing eyes. "How 
could you ? How dare you ?" 

"Dr. Cantrell told me to hook her up," said the 
astonished groom, "and she got scared — " 

"Dr. Cantrell?" said Tamsy. "What Dr. Can- 
trell ?" 

"Dr. Cantrell round here on Walnut Street." 

Dr. Cantrell the master of Red Lass ! It sud- 
denly flashed across her mind that this was how 
Tom had raised the money to send her back to 
school. 

"Here, then," said Tamsy, opening her purse; 
"here 's car-fare, for you to ride home. I '11 
drive the horse back myself. I 'm sorry if I 
spoke to you too sharply, but this horse was my 
brother's pet, and is not used to being beaten." 

"Miss Coyle, I positively forbid your trying to 
drive that beast," said Miss Jackson. "I insist 
on your getting out of that carriage at once. 
This may be a serious business for you." 

Tamsy was already in the phaeton. "It is seri- 
ous now, Miss Jackson ; more so than you think," 
she replied. "Give her her head, please," she 
called to the groom, and started up the street. 
She had a dim impression of some one's coming 
up quickly, and of a man's voice calling after 
her ; but Red Lass required all her attention, and 
she did not look back. 

Dr. Cantrell was out when she reached the 
office, and turning the horse over to the office- 
boy, Tamsy made her way back to Edgewood. 

The story of her adventure had preceded her. 
"I have always thought Miss Coyle a typical 
southerner, with her soft manners and slow 
speech," Miss Jackson, herself a Michigan wo- 
man, was saying to Madam, "but I shall never 
again doubt that such manners may go with effi- 
ciency. That man dropped that whip as if it 
burned him ; and she got into the buggy and 
drove off in spite of me, and everybody else ; and 
she had tears in her eyes all the while." 

Tamsy was near to tears again when she made 
her explanation to Madam and Miss Jackson. 



I9I3-] 



A BLUE-GRASS GIRL 



689 



But, unusual as her conduct had been, she would 
probably have heard no more of it, if that had 
been all; but it was not. She wanted to go and 
see Dr. Cantrell; and of that Madam strongly 
disapproved. 

"I think the matter must end here," she said, 
"and, at any rate, I can give it no further atten- 




"'PUT DOWN THAT WHIP!' SHE CALLED TO THE ASTONISHED DRIVER. 



tion now. Mrs. Weems has just had a bad fall 
and I am waiting to learn how serious it is." 

It proved that Mrs. Weems, the housekeeper, 
had broken a leg, a misfortune not only for her, 
but for the large household under her care. 
Vol. XL.— 87. 



After recitation hours the next day, Tamsy 
went to Miss Jackson. "Are you very busy?" 
Tamsy asked. 

"Not unusually so," was the reply. "What is 
it?" 

"Would you be willing to go to Dr. Cantrell 
with me? I feel that I must see him." 

Miss Jackson frankly 
stared. "What?" she said 
coldly, "when I am a 
teacher in the school, and 
myself heard the principal 
forbid your going?" 

"But I am going to leave 
the school immediately," 
said Tamsy, "and I shall 
tell Madam to-day that I 
am going." 

"Going to leave school !" 
Miss Jackson exclaimed. 
"Is it possible that after 
your three years of suc- 
cess here, and your bright 
prospects, you will throw 
everything away for a 
horse? You Kentuckians 
are impossible !" 

"Not altogether for a 
horse," Tamsy answered. 
"But I reckon it does take 
a Kentuckian to under- 
stand Kentuckians," she 
added, with a wan little 
smile. 

Finally, however, Miss 
Jackson consenting, they 
presented themselves in 
Dr. Cantrell's office. 

Tamsy introduced her 
companion and herself. 
"We saw the runaway 
yesterday," she said, "and 
have come to speak to you 
about the horse." 

"And are you the young 
lady who took her away 
from the groom and drove 
her home?" asked the tall, 
clerical-looking old gen- 
tleman. 

"I — I did n't mean to 

take her away from any 

one," said Tamsy, blushing. "But, you see, I 

helped raise the horse, and I thought she knew 

me — and I — I could — " 

"You could, and you did," said Dr. Cantrell, his 
blue eyes twinkling upon her. "I suppose there is 



690 



A BLUE-GRASS GIRL 



[June, 



no possible way of inducing you to take charge of 
the horse altogether?" • 

"That 's what I came to see about," was the 
unexpected reply. "Dr. Cantrell, will you sell me 
Red Lass?" 

"Not I," he answered with a promptness his 
smiling face belied. "Not a crusty, close-fisted 
old chap like me, who knows when he has got a 
bargain. My son, Hugh, now, might not be so 
hard to deal with." 

"Does he own Red Lass?" 

"Partly; or thinks he does; ah, here he comes 
to speak for himself," he added, as a tall young 
man entered the office. "Hugh, here is your un- 
known of yesterday ; and she wants to buy your 
horse." 

Tamsy's cheeks were crimson, and her speech, 
at first, unsteady, but her eyes did not falter cnce. 
She had not understood, she said, that it was Mr. 
Cantrell who called after her the day before ; she 
disapproved of the groom and his whip, and that 
was why she did what she did. As for her errand 
to-day, she explained with a proud simplicity, and 
as briefly as possible, that Red Lass had been the 
pet and chief possession of her brother, always 
delicate and dependent upon an active outdoor 
life; and that the Lass had been sacrificed for 
Tamsy's benefit, as she had just now discovered. 

"I have only a hundred dollars with me," she 
ended with a shy eagerness, "but if you will keep 
the horse, and wait until I can raise the balance — 
Mr. Cantrell? I — I — mean, of course," she hesi- 
tated, "how much do you ask for Red Lass?" 

"I gave your brother four hundred dollars for 
her," said Hugh, and he turned to his father. 
"Miss Coyle gets the horse, of course?" he said. 

There was no need of any payment now, they 
said ; but Tamsy insisted on turning over her be- 
loved prize-check. "And the balance I '11 pay just 
as soon as I can," she said. 

On the way home, Miss Jackson tried her 
utmost to lend Tamsy money but it was steadily 
refused. "If you had told Madam the half of 
what you told these two strangers, you would not 
have had to leave school," she remonstrated. 

"But is n't that old gentleman a dear?" Tamsy 
cried. "And you are another!" she added, pat- 
ting her companion's arm. "But I should have 
left school in any case, Miss Jackson. I have that 
three hundred dollars to raise." 

She said nothing of any plan she had in mind; 
but that evening Madam was told that some one 
wished to see her about the housekeeper's place. 
"I do not understand," said Madam. "I only sent 
in the advertisement this afternoon." 

Her face flushed with surprise and displeasure 
when Tamsy rose to meet her in the parlor. But 



she heard the girl's stammering plea to the end. 
After all, the idea was not wholly presumptuous. 
Tamsy only wanted to come on trial, and as assis- 
tant housekeeper. 

"Since you have chosen to come to me in this 
way, Miss Coyle," said Madam, at last, "I shall 
meet you on your own ground. My housekeeper 
buys all the food and fuel supplies for the estab- 
lishment, and has a position of great responsibil- 
ity. You have had experience in this line of 
work?" Madam continued, with eyes that twin- 
kled kindly as she regarded Tamsy's downcast face. 

Madam Donan, for all her wisdom and experi- 
ence, was still, at times, an impulsive woman. 
She got up quickly, and taking Tamsy by both 
hands, exclaimed : "Now you dear little goose, sit 
down here, and tell me what has got into you, 
in these last two days! Housekeeper, indeed!" 

Nevertheless, Tamsy gained her point, but only 
after a long talk and certain very strict provisos. 
Mrs. Coyle was to approve, first of all, although, 
of course, no syllable was to be breathed to Torn. 
Then the agreement was to last only until Christ- 
mas, but with full salary if Tamsy succeeded. 
Best of all, by leaving off some extra studies, and 
all outside work, Tamsy might still be able to re- 
tain her place in the class, although the presi- 
dency must go by the board. "And if you will 
get into the good graces of Mrs. Weems, and let 
her advise with you, I am sure you will make a 
success of it," Madam concluded. 

The prophecy was fulfilled. There were mis- 
takes, to be sure, some costly ones. But Tamsy 
brought to her new work the same intelligence, 
and sometimes even more of eagerness, than she 
was used to bring to her studies; and it was soon 
evident that she could not fail. 

She begged off for a day or two at Christmas ; 
and, all unannounced, got off the Lexington train 
at her home station late one afternoon. 

"Did my horse come, Mr. Harms?" she called 
out eagerly to the agent. 

Yes ; Red Lass was waiting there in the stable. 
Mr. Harms had his trap all ready, too, and would 
drive Miss Tamsy over home right away. And 
the horse he would send over at twilight, and 
have her hitched at the rack, just as Miss Tamsy 
had written. But he did not quite carry out this 
plan, for Tom's amazed eyes saw Red Lass before 
she got to the hitching-rack ; and then, of course, 
came Tamsy's explanation. 

"And to think," she ended, whispering the 
words at her brother, "I laughed at you; laughed 
at you ! and thought you 'horsy.' But I did n't 
know— I did n't know!" 

Tom was in great straits. His gulping refusal 
to take the horse had been utterly ignored. 



I9'3] 



A BLUE-GRASS GIRL 



691 



"But, look here, you people," he cried, "do you 
think I prefer any horse that ever walked, to my 
sister?" 

"And I ? am I to prefer college honors to my 
brother?" was the reply. 

Tom stared a moment helplessly, and then sud- 
denly seized her in a brotherly bear-hug, and 
rushed out of the house. 

But late, late that night, Tamsy imagined she 
heard a sound outside, and, with a sudden thought, 
got up and went to the window. And down at 



the bottom of the lawn, between the shadows of 
the naked maple-trees, a horseman went riding to 
and fro across the grass. 

And Tom's happiness was not to be Tamsy's 
only reward, for the next summer when she was 
at home again, having brought back with her all 
the honors that Edgewood Seminary could confer 
upon her, Tom insisted on sharing his pet with 
her, and so she too had many a glorious canter 
mounted on Red Lass. 




1 



A CITY GREENHORN 



BY F. LOVELL COOMBS 

Author of "The Young Railroaders," etc. 



Cousin Billy certainly was green, even for a 
city boy, according to Rod Bailey's opinion — 
calling a goose a duck, not knowing shotes were 
little pigs, and looking for apples on a pear- 
tree! But this — 

Rod doubled up with convulsive laughter, and, 
clapping one hand over his mouth, tiptoed be- 
hind the corn-crib to watch, while, at the bars 
just beyond, Billy continued to hold out his cap 
full of oats and call, "Her-r-re, cow, cow, cow ! 
Her-r-re, boss, boss !" 

The idea of any human being coaxing a cow 
with oats ! Rod told himself he should die of 
laughing. 

But the news which had sent him on a running 
hunt for Billy could not wait long, even for such 
fun as this, and presently he ran forward. "Billy," 
he cried, "the chicken thieves were here last 
night, and stole every one of the little Rhode 
Island reds !" 

"What!" Billy spun about incredulously. "And 
did n't the alarms work?" 

"Nope; they found the wires and cut them." 

Billy was speechless. The electrical alarms had 
been installed on the farm only the week before, 
by his own father's firm ; and that they could 
thus have failed was almost impossible to believe. 

Silently he accompanied Rod back to the or- 
chard, to the little chicken houses. One was empty 
and quiet — so pathetically empty and quiet that 
Billy had a struggle to keep back the tears. For 
they were such busy little fellows, the little 
"reds" — and so friendly. Only yesterday Rod 
had taken a snap-shot of him with one perky lit- 
tle rascal on his shoulder and another on his head. 

"They found the wires here at the back," said 
Rod. "Cut them with a knife, I guess." 

Billy felt very badly over the loss of the chicks, 
and during breakfast he was silent, thinking. 
Could he not figure out some improvement on 
the alarm that had failed? He had often visited 
his father's factory, and had learned a good deal 
about electrical alarm systems. The great dif- 
ficulty was the probable cutting of the wires. 
But at last out of this very problem came the so- 
lution. Why not two circuits, a "closed" and an 
"open" circuit, so arranged that the cutting of the 
wires of the first would set off the bell of the 
second ? 

Billy jumped in his chair. "I have it! I have 
it!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "And, oh, say! — " 
He paused, wide-eyed at a further inspiration, 



and added excitedly, "And we can make almost 
sure of catching them, too ! Uncle, have you any 
blue-stone?" 

"Why, a little, I guess. We usually have some 
for the poultry fountains in case of cholera. But 
what wild idea is this you 've got?" 

"If you don't mind, I 'd rather not tell you, 
yet. I '11 explain when everything is ready. Are 
there any scraps of copper and zinc around?" 

"I think so." 

"Good ! I can try out my first idea right away." 

Uncle Jim's, "Well, you can't make it worse," 
indicated that he was somewhat skeptical. Rod 
was frankly so. That a fellow who would coax 
a cow with oats could improve on so mysterious 
an invention as an electrical alarm was the height 
of absurdity. 

Nevertheless, after breakfast Rod willingly 
aided Billy in the collecting of the things neces- 
sary to his plans ; and when at last, out of two 
old stone crocks and odds and ends of copper 
and zinc, Billy had fashioned a gravity battery, 
doubt gave place to wonder and admiration. And 
when a wire had been strung from the several 
little houses in the orchard to their room over 
the kitchen, and two bells arranged on the wall, 
with their batteries underneath, Rod dashed ex- 
citedly off to the orchard to make a test by sepa- 
rating a connection. When ready, he whistled. 
Instantly there was a click from the first bell, 
then from the second a delirious whir. Rod 
rushed back, all out of breath, and was almost be- 
side himself with delight when he heard the alarm- 
bell still buzzing, as though it would never cease. 

"We 've got them this time, sure 's you 're 
born," he declared gleefully. "And won't it be a 
joke on them — telling us themselves that they are 
here by cutting the wire ! Great ! great ! I don't 
see what else you need to do, Billy." 

"Come on and get those boxes and a saucer, 
and you '11 see," said Billy, going to a shelf for 
his camera. And presently Rod, again wonder- 
ing much, was following him to the orchard, car- 
rying two wooden boxes, one, three by two feet 
and two feet deep, the other much smaller. 

Some eight feet from the most distant of the 
chicken houses Billy halted, and, taking the larger 
box, placed it on end, the open side toward the 
little house. Within he placed the smaller box, 
fastening it securely with nails.' 

When he then placed the camera on the top 
of the latter, Rod shouted his enlightenment. "I 



692 



A CITY GREENHORN 



693 




>EUY-(trf-F*SAVtf** '9'^ 



"'i see! i see! you're going to take a picture of them! 



see ! I see ! You 're going to take a picture of he went along. "This elastic, fastened to this 

them! But— but how in the world—" nail in the side of the box, and then here to the 

In reply, Billy began the arrangement of a con- shutter trigger of the camera, is strong enough 

trivance that was truly ingenious, explaining as to pull the trigger over and snap the shutter. 



694 



A CITY GREENHORN 



[June, 



"Now I '11 place the saucer on top of the cam- 
era, as far back as it will go, and put a flash 
powder in it. Then I '11 take a thin thread, tie 
one end to the shutter trigger, lead it directly 
over the powder, run it around this nail, tighten 
it until it has pulled the shutter lever over away 
from the pull of the elastic— so— and fasten it. 
Then you see what happens — " 

"Certainly ! certainly !" exclaimed Rod. "The 
moment the flash goes off, the thread is burned 
through, the rubber band snaps the shutter — 
and your picture is taken ! Fine ! great !" 

"Yep; that 's it. And we want a snap-shot be- 
cause, otherwise, the thieves would be shown 
moving, and the picture would be no good." 

"But how are you going to set the flash off?" 

"This way." Billy produced a piece of stout 
cord, and tied it about the middle of the saucer. 
Beneath it he laid a strip of sandpaper. "We '11 
mucilage that down," he explained. To the taut 
cord he then so fastened a match that its head 
rested firmly on the sandpaper, the other end 
standing some distance above the cord. 

"Oh, I see !" said Rod. "You tie a string to 
the top of the match, run it through the hole in 
the side of the box, and out to where you will 
grab it and pull it." 

"And then I '11 fire a revolver to start the 
thieves off before they can meddle with the cam- 
era," added Billy. "But it will be great fun, 
won't it, Rod? A regular adventure!" 

When shown the boys' thief trap, Billy's uncle 
was genuinely surprised. To one detail he ob- 
jected, however. "These men probably are des- 
perate characters, Billy," he said, "and I could 
not allow you to take any chances with them ; so 
when your alarm goes off, you come to my room 
and waken me, and I '11 come out myself." And, 
somewhat reluctantly, Billy agreed. 

But night followed night, and the impatiently 
awaited chicken thieves did not repeat their visit. 
Billy began to despair. His vacation was draw- 
ing to a close. 

Monday night of his last week came, and Billy 
dejectedly retired, wondering whether it would 
be wrong to pray that the thieves might come. 

An instant later, it seemed, he found himself 
sitting upright in bed. A dazed moment he won- 
dered what was wrong, then, with a cry of "The 
bell ! the bell !" he shot from the covers, and, fol- 
lowed by Rod, dashed for his uncle's room. 

It seemed an age before his uncle appeared. 
"Now go to your window and watch what you 
can see from there," he said, as he hurried past 
them. 

They were at the window, leaning far out, be- 



fore the door beneath softly opened and Mr. 
Bailey's dimly seen figure appeared, and was 
quickly lost in the darkness of the orchard. The 
two boys clutched each other's hands and scarcely 
breathed. 

Minute followed minute, and the quiet re- 
mained unbroken. "Now would n't it be just too 
mean," began Rod. The remark was interrupted 
by a flash of brilliant light, there was a wild cry 
of surprise and terror, two quick pistol-shots, and 
the sound of desperately running feet. The two 
lads uttered a simultaneous shout of joy, then 
caught their breath and gleefully listened to the 
sounds made by the fleeing thieves. "Right 
through the bushes for the fence ! My, are n't 
they digging for it, though !" chuckled Rod. "I 'd 
give anything to see them. I '11 bet their eyes are 
popping out of their heads, they are so scared ! 

"Now they 're at the fence." A moment after, 
there came the sudden rattle of wheels and the 
pounding of horses' feet down the road. 

Mr. Bailey returned as the sound of the fleeing 
wagon died away in the distance. 

"Did you bring the camera?" demanded the 
boys, excitedly. 

"Yes; here it is. You are a genius, Billy!" he 
added. "Everything went like a clock." 

The boys rushed down-stairs to meet him. 
"We 're going to develop the plate right away," 
said Billy. "Oh, yes; please let us, Uncle. You 
know we could n't sleep anyway." 

Mr. Bailey consented, and together they has- 
tened the preparations. A few minutes later, side 
by side in the dim light of the red lamp, they 
bent over the tray of developer and breathlessly 
watched the white plate. 

"It seems slow, awfully slow," said Billy, in a 
tremulous whisper. "A strong flash like that- 
like that — Yes! Here she comes! Here she 
comes! See, Uncle? See, Rod? Two black 
spots— the faces ! And both turned toward the 
camera ! Oh, great ! great !" Billy could hardly 
contain himself. 

It seemed an hour before the plate was prop- 
erly developed and fixed, but finally the lamp was f 
lit, and Billy held up to it the finished negative. 

"There you are, Uncle! Is n't that fine? 

"Now, can you tell who they are? Rod, get a 
piece of white paper and hold it up behind it." 

Rod adjusted the paper, and his father studied 
the negative closely. "No," he declared at length, 
"both are strangers. But we '11 send a print in to 
town to the sheriff. He probably will know them, 
and will fix them, all right." 

True enough, a week later, with the aid of the 
picture, the two poultry thieves were- captured, 



I913-] 



A CITY GREENHORN 



695 



convicted, and sent to the state prison. And as 
they had operated successfully for several years, 
and all previous efforts at their capture had 
failed, Billy became quite a hero. 



"Which shows," wrote Rod to Billy, back home 
in New York, "that what a city fellow knows 
about other things can't be judged by what he 
does n't know about cows — can it?" 




Copyright by W. J. Baer. 



From a Copley print, copyright by Curtis & Cameron, li 
"NANETTE."— PAINTED BY VV, J. BAER. 



THE SAND WAVES OF OREGON 



BY DAY ALLEN WILLEY 




bAND WAVES IN THE VALLEY OF THE COLUMBIA KIVER. 
Their height can be estimated by comparing them with the man's figure in the foreground. 



Sand dunes, as they are called by the Bretons 
and other hardy people who live on the coast of 
the North Sea, are hills or hummocks of beach 
sand which has been heaped up by the ocean 
gales. For miles and miles along this coast 
stretch these dunes, often forty feet high, some 
bare, and others covered with a tough sharp- 
edged grass, called sword-grass, which finds 
enough nourishment to grow on these piles of 
sand. 

On the deserts in western America, wandering 
sand-hills are frequently seen ; but in the valley 
of the Columbia River, in the State of Oregon, 
is a sand sea, as the people out there call it. The 
formation indeed resembles a sea, as it contains 
ridges of sand remarkably similar to waves, while 
it is moved from place to place in such quantities 
that it frequently does much damage. The Co- 
lumbia River, which deposits the sand along the 
valley it traverses, often rises to a height of sixty 
feet during the freshet season, carrying down- 
stream an immense quantity of silt, which con- 
sists of very fine, rounded grains of sand, easily 



combined into drifts by the strong winds which 
sweep through the valley. 

The movement of a drift, or wave, is caused 
by the movement of the sand grains over its 
crest. As the direction of the winds is generally 
up-stream, the waves at times attain such an 
altitude that trees forty feet in height are buried 
to the tops. An analysis of the sand shows that 
it is very fertile when sufficiently watered, but 
the high winds absorb so much moisture that it 
is impossible for vegetation to take root in the dry 
season. 

Picturesque as is the view along these sand 
ridges, they are unfortunately a serious problem 
for residents in this vicinity, as they frequently 
overwhelm the railroad tracks, and would engulf 
buildings if something were not done to prevent 
their encroachment. For a considerable distance, 
the tracks of the railway owned by the Oregon 
Railroad and Navigation Company are built 
through this valley, and such is the movement of 
the sand that on a windy day it is literally impos- 
sible to keep the rails clear of the drift by shov- 



696 



THE SAND WAVES OF OREGON 



697 



eling, and unless other measures were taken, the 
railroad would soon become buried to a depth of 
many feet. 

For many miles, therefore, the track is pro- 
tected by stout fences, intended to change the 
course of the wind so that it will not blow di- 
rectly toward the railway, but at an angle with 
it, and thus move the "waves" in a different di- 
rection. It has been found that by building rows 
of these fences at right angles with the track, 
the sand is kept from burying it, but if the fence 



is built parallel with the track, and by its side, 
even if it be twenty feet high, the waves will 
soon reach above the barrier and cover the road- 
bed, just as if it had no protection. 

There are places, however, where apparently 
nothing will keep back the sand. At one point, 
where the track passes close to the wall of rock 
forming one side of the valley, a force of men 
and teams is almost constantly employed with 
shovels and scrapers to keep the tracks from be- 
coming completely submerged. 



JACK 



BY MABEL LIVINGSTONE FRANK 




I am always afraid he will smother, — 

Though I think he 's accustomed to shocks, 

For he jumps with a smile, 

When I call him awhile 
From his home in the little brown box. 

I should like him to play with forever, 
And I shut down the lid with a sigh — 

For Nurse says he will rust 

If he stands in the dust, 
And, of course, she knows better than I. 

But I cannot help fretting about him, 

And I wonder sometimes does he mind; 

For it seems such a sin, 

To keep poking him in, 
When his face is so jolly and kind ! 

Oh, his home is so dark and so dreary, 
And he never can peep at the skies— 

When I open his box, 

He 's so dizzy he rocks, 
And the light fairly dazzles his eyes ! 

Yet I never have seen him unhappy ; 
And I never have heard him complain- 
When I put him away, 
"Please be merry," I say, 
" 'Til we meet in the morning again." 




Vol. XL.- 



But I 'm always afraid he will smother, — 
Though I think he 's accustomed to shocks, 
And I know he will smile, 
When I call him awhile 
From his home in the little brown box. 




^%tyM,A4 



THE CLEVER FLAMINGOS WERE CAPTURED, AND LIVED FOR A LONG TIME IN A ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN. 
AS THEY WF.RE VERY INTELLIGENT AND WANTED TO LEARN, THEY ALWAYS LISTENED CAREFULLY 
TO WHAT THE SCHOOL TEACHERS SAID WHEN THEY BROUGHT THEIR CHILDREN TO SEE THEM. 




A,,». ##^ 



ONE OF THE SCHOOL-BOYS ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED HIS SPELLING-BOOK, AND THE 
FLAMINGOS WERE SOON BUSY LEARNING THE LETTERS. 



THE CLEVER FLAMINGOS 



699 




ONE DAY, THE KEEPER LEFT THE DOOR OPEN BY MISTAKE, AND THE WHOLE FAMILY 
ESCAPED, TAKING THE PRECIOUS BOOK WITH THEM. 




SO THAT WHEN THEY WERE AT HOME AGAIN, THEY WERE ABLE TO PRACTISE UNTIL THEY 
COULD MAKE THE WHOLE ALPHABET. AND THEN THEY LEARNED TO SPELL AND TO READ. 



700 



THE CLEVER FLAMINGOS 



[June. 




Mi&hut 



A KIND YOUNG LADY WOULD SOMETIMES FEED THE FLAMINGO FAMILY WITH 
ALL KINDS OF THE GOOD THINGS THEY LIKED. 




ONE DAY, THEY FOUND A NEWSPAPER IN THE ROAD, AND READ IN IT 
THAT SHE WAS TO BE MARRIED. 



I9IJ-] 



THE CLEVER FLAMINGOS 



701 












SO THEY TOOK A POSITION WHERE THEY KNEW THE WEDDING PARTY WOULD 
PASS AND DID A VERY FINE TKICK. 




?* ,wr ^iT 



WHICH SO PLEASED THE BRIDE AND GROOM, THAT THEY GAVE TO EACH 
FLAMINGO A LARGE PIECE OF WEDDING-CAKE ! 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

(A sequel to " The Lucky Sixpence ") 

BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE 



Chapter XV 



AT THE TOWERS 



I had much food for thought during the rest of 
the journey. The map I had forgotten now took 
on an added value. Once or twice I was tempted 
to cut the stitches holding the silk cover of my 
little book, but changed my mind, as it would serve 
no good purpose, and put me to much trouble to 
sew it up again. I was assured that the map was 
safe, and that was all I was concerned with for 
the time being. 

But I hoped to see Blundell punished in the 
future for this impudent imposture. At first, I 
thought to tell Horrie of the outrage, but when 
fny anger cooled, I saw that that would involve 
him in a quarrel as his sister's protector, and, 
moreover, would disclose my possession of the 
map, which I now determined to keep secret, 
holding that, if it was the key to hidden wealth, 
it belonged to the American cause. Wherefore I 
took the precaution to order Clarinda to be silent 
regarding our late adventure. 

We entered the gates of the Towers about sun- 
set. I had to admit at once that it was a lordlier 
place than Denewood, the deer park stretching 
for miles ere we came to the great house itself. 
The trees and lawns were magnificent, there could 
be no doubt of that. "But," I said to myself, 
" 't is not so homelike as Denewood" ; and that 
was the thought in my mind as I stepped out of 
the carriage, leaving the business of the luggage 
to Clarinda and two very grand footmen, who 
came down the steps as if they were conferring 
a favor upon us. 

I went slowly into the house, my heart beating 
a little faster than its wont, for it was a strange 
return for me. I was anxious to see Granny, and 
somewhat puzzled over the question of how my 
brothers would like their sister. 

The hall I entered was a huge place, with walls 
and fireplace of stone, around which ran an 
oaken gallery with a staircase of the same wood 
at one end. But, strange as it may appear, my 
thought was not of its magnificence. 

" 'T will be terribly cold in winter," I said to 
myself; and compared it to our own cheery hall 
in Denewood, which I still reckoned as my home. 

I wandered on, searching for the drawing- 
room, where I thought Granny was like to be at 



that hour, feeling a little lonesome and neglected 
that no one was there to meet me, though I told 
myself they could have no means of knowing that 
I was even in England. Really, I could not blame 
them, nor did I, though I could not help but note 
this lack of welcome. 

I took a look into a vast dining-room which 
opened into a vaster library beyond, and, assured 
that I was pointed in the wrong direction, I 
turned back. 

As I reentered the hall, I heard a curious thud, 
thud, and there was Hal with a tennis bat, 
knocking a ball against the wall as I had seen 
him do outside the Dower-House when he was a 
little lad. 

I stood watching him for a moment, until he 
turned in my direction. 

At first he stared, and then his face lighted up 
with a look of gladness. 

"Save us !" he cried, at the top of his voice, 
" 't is Bee, with her hair as tousled as ever !" and 
he ran over to me, and, taking me into his arms, 
gave me a great hug that lifted four years off my 
shoulders as if by magic. Hal had not changed a 
whit, and my eyes filled with tears and my heart 
with joy, for I felt his welcome to be sincere. 

"Where 's Granny?" was my first question. 

"In the drawing-room," said Hal, eying me 
curiously. "I 'd have you know we 're monstrous 
fashionable, Bee, now that Horrie is so horrid 
rich. We 've but finished dinner, after which 
we sit in state, and a great bore it is, I think. But 
how you 've grown, Bee ! I wonder will Granny 
know you? Come along; we '11 in to her." 

He led the way into the drawing-room, and 
there, screened from every draft, sat Granny, 
reading her newspapers by the light of the can- 
dles burning on the table at her side, just as she 
used to do. Beside her was Marlett, her tire- 
woman, and, on the instant, all the joyful, happy 
days of my childhood in the Dower-House came 
rushing back into my memory. Dear old Granny ! 
how I loved her ! 

"Granny !" cried Hal, pressing forward, "here 's 
your red Indian come back." 

Granny looked at me, and when I saw her face 
light up, I knew how warm a place I had in her 
old heart. 

"Bee ! my little Bee !" she murmured, and would 
have risen, but I flung myself at her feet and 



702 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



703 



buried my head in her lap, the tears running 
down my cheeks. And though I cried, 't was the 
first time since I had left America that I felt glad 
I had returned to England. 

We shed a few tears together, and then, drying 
our eyes, we looked at each other to see how 
time had treated us. Granny was little different, 
and Marlett not at all so. She still looked as if 
she were made of a stiffer material than mere 
flesh and blood, and I could not help feeling some- 
thing of the awe I had had of her when I was a 
child. 

A little later, Horrie came in, and found us 
all chatting away for dear life. 

He was dressed very handsome, and every inch 
of him showed a man of fashion, with a fine taste 
in ruffles and laces ; and I guessed, as I learned 
later, that now the money had come to him, he 
made it fly right merrily, and took his grand posi- 
tion in the world as became a man of his station. 

He greeted me gladly enough. 

"Faith, you 've grown finely, and will be a 
credit to the family, after all," he said, in a very 
grown-up way. "I 'm right glad the colonies 
have not spoiled you, and I doubt not, when 
Granny and Marlett have tutored you a while, 
you '11 do very well indeed." 

"A thousand thanks for your compliments, 
Horrie," I cried back, making him a curtsey ; "but 
I fear I shall never satisfy your taste." 

"Have done with your quizzing," he said 
sharply. "As head of the house, 't is natural I 
should think of these things. At any rate, now 
you 're here, the family is together once more." 

And, in a way, that sentence of Horrie's 
summed up the whole matter. I had hardly been 
in the house a week before my place in it was as 
fixed as though I had never left it. I was the 
sister of Sir Horace Travers— and naught else. 
Though that, to be sure, was enough to plague 
me. 

I soon found that nothing was expected of me. 
I was seventeen, and even Marlett considered 
samplers too youthful an occupation for me. 
There were servants a-plenty, all under the eye 
of a housekeeper in rustling black silk, and I 
should as soon have thought of ordering the 
stable-men about as of suggesting aught to her. 
Granny had her journals, her tea, her chocolate, 
her old friends, and Marlett ever ready to an- 
ticipate her wants, and I could be of little service 
to her. Horrie was earnest in the affairs of the 
estate, talked of standing for Parliament, and 
rated me roundly for my "Whiggish notions on 
America," as he called them, vowing that the 
colonies were the king's, to do with as he pleased. 

Hal had a tutor for a year, and was still a good 



deal of a boy, so that he was more companionable 
than the others. Yet, truth to tell, with all their 
appearance of being busy, there was naught that 
any of them did with a whole heart. 

It was all play to my thinking. Granny played 
at being a great lady once more. Horrie played 
at being a fine gentleman, and Hal played with 
his books. 

And, worst of all, I knew that England was no 
place for me. There was naught for me to do 
in this land of my birth. No one who needed me, 
and none to heed my comings and goings so long 
as I followed the rules of fashion and kept my 
complexion shaded in the sun. I was lonely, and 
I longed for the land across the sea where I had 
my duties, my responsibilities, and my good 
friends. Lonely indeed, and there were nights 
when my pillow was wet with tears ere I slept. 

But I loved Granny, and I loved the boys, so I 
hid from them what was in my heart, and went 
through the monotonous days with as fair a smile 
as I could muster. Indeed, had I told them I was 
far from happy in all the splendor of their grand 
estate, they would have thought me crazed. 

From various sources I had news of what was 
going forward with the war in America; but the 
announcements of one week were contradicted 
the next, and I soon came to doubt all the reports. 

One morning, however, came news that was 
true. I found on the breakfast-table a letter 
from John, and held it in my hand awhile, hardly 
daring to open it because it meant so much to me. 
At length I broke the seals. 

"My dearest Beatrice," it began, and I read the 
words again, for it sounded as if John missed 
me, and that made me glad. 

My dearest Beatrice : 

You don't know how many times I have called myself a 
fool for sending you off as I did. Surely some better way 
might have been devised, and Mrs. Mummer has not 
given over reproaching me for letting you go at all. 

Little Peg is disconsolate, and wanders about with a 
kitten hugged to her breast, and I have heard her telling 
it that if it 's a " g-g-good k-k-kitty, perhaps B-Bee will 
c-come back b-before it grows to be a s-s-stupid cat." 
Even Mummer's face is longer and more solemn than 
ever, and he talks less, though you will scarce believe that 
possible ; so you see you are greatly missed. But I, more 
than they, feel your absence, because now, when I go to 
Denewood, I find it so lonely that Mrs. Mummer com- 
plains that I eat nothing, and scolds all in the kitchen 
with such vigor that I cannot help but stuff myself in order 
to save the cook a rating. 

I laughed aloud, not so much because there was 
anything so very funny in the letter, as because 
my heart was glad to know that I was not forgot- 
ten in the place I called my home. 

"Why, Bee, you look almost pretty," cried Hal. 
"What has stirred you so?" 



704 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



[June, 



" 'T is only a letter from America," I answered, 
and went on with my reading. 

John wrote me of many trivial things that had 
happened, knowing that I would be interested in 
them ; but his talk of the war in the south brought 
an anxious throb to my heart. 

They are to push it, and Allan frets to be there with the 
troop. I have no doubt we shall be ordered to the front 
shortly, and then I must leave Denewood without a master 
or mistress. Well, the old place has lost its sunshine for 
me. 

I must close this long letter not knowing when I shall 
find the chance to send another. Letters for me, if you 
still remember, may be sent under cover of John Smith, 
Esquire, at the White Horse Inn in Fetter Lane, London, 
and will reach me at Denewood sooner or later, where we 
all pine to hear that your new home has not supplanted 
Germantown in your affections. 

I am sending you money by this same hand, and if you 
would pleasure me, you will spend some of it in having 
your portrait painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, who, I have 
heard, does as fair work in this way as may be obtained. 
I want the picture for the hall in Denewood, and your 
compliance with this request will give me much happiness. 

Please present my respectful greetings to your grand- 
mother, Madam Travers, and to Sir Horace and your 
brother Hal. 

Yours faithfully, 

John Travers. 

I told Granny of my letter, but she seemed 
scarce interested. She dismissed all news of the 
war by saying that she made it a point never to 
read politics, and when I spoke of my fear for 
John if he went south to fight, she complained 
that she felt a draft, and asked would I get her a 
shawl. It was not that she did n't love me, but all 
of my interests were so outside her life, that she 
could n't understand any one thinking twice about 
them. 

So I was off to my room with the letter, and 
read it again and again, laughing a little over 
Peggy, but crying a great deal more over the vain 
wishes it brought to me. 

I was the only one who was really unhappy, 
but Hal had gloomy thoughts now and then which 
he confided to me. 

"I tell you, Bee," he would say, "this thing of 
being a younger brother is a monstrous nuisance. 
Horrie 's right enough, but I 'd like to be my own 
banker, and spend my money as I pleased, be- 
holden to no one. T is all luck in this world. 
Look at that fellow Merchant, now." 

"What about him ?" I asked, for I knew naught 
of what he was speaking. 

'^Have you not heard of Billy Bluebones's trea- 
sure?" he cried in astonishment. "Why, 't is the 
talk of the town this past six months !" 

At the mention of that curious name, I remem- 
bered having heard it before at Squire Sunder- 
land's, and asked Hal to tell me his tale. 



"This Billy Bluebones was a pirate," he began; 
but I broke in upon him. 

"That was n't his real name !" I protested. 
"It 's so silly." 

"Nay, I know naught of that," said he, petu- 
lantly; " 't is what he called himself, and no sillier 
than Blackbeard, though I doubt not these gentry 
take up such bloody titles to scare the timid. 
However, Billy Bluebones he called himself, and 
he did a fine business in pirating. He hid his 
treasure safe enough, for after he died some of 
his followers went searching for it, without suc- 
cess I believe, and, until Merchant picked up the 
stuff, none but seafaring men gave Billy Blue- 
bones a thought." 

"And was a treasure found?" I asked. 

"Aye, that it was, by this chap named Mer- 
chant," Hal went on, "who ran off from the 
bailiffs in London and shipped aboard an ill- 
found privateer bound for the Americas. As 
luck would have it, she fell to pieces and dropped 
a few of her crew upon the coast of Virginia, 
't is said. At any rate, Merchant was one of 
these; but so far gone was he, that the others 
left him to die on the beach, and, to make a long 
story short, he came to, wandered about half daft 
for a day or so, and then ran flat into the trea- 
sure. There are a dozen tales told of how he 
found it. Some say he was buried for dead and 
came to life in the pirate's storehouse; others 
that the gold was washed out by floods,, and still 
others— but there are half a score of different 
rumors, any one of which may be true. At all 
events, Merchant is back in London with a for- 
tune equal to a King's ransom, and how he found 
it makes no odds, for 't is Billy Bluebones's trea- 
sure, and he is spending it as fast as he can. 
Think of the luck of the man, Bee ! It makes me 
long to be out of England, to try my chances." 

"Never mind, Hal," I said, to comfort him, 
"who knows what a year may bring forth, or 
what is in store for us. Your luck is better now 
than it was in a counting-house in Amsterdam, 
with Mr. Van der Heist to drive you." 

"Aye, there you 're right, Bee !" he cried. 
"When I think of those days, I feel ashamed for 
grumbling that I have n't the moon," and he 
went off to the stables whistling. 

In London, I found that things were somewhat 
different than with us in the country. It is true 
that there were many "macaronis," as the men of 
fashion were called, who thought of little outside 
their betting; but there were others who came to 
the house whose wits were sharp, and who knew 
what went forward in the world; and some two 
or three who had a hand in shaping events. 



I9I3-] 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



70S 



It was all very gay, and I will not deny that I 
had much pleasure in the jollities of that season. 
Squire Sunderland came, and I was glad to have 
an opportunity to thank him for his carriage ; we 
laughed over my predicament on the beach, now 
but an amusing memory. 

Another visitor was an old friend, Mr. Guy 
Vernon, who had aided me years ago when I was 
a lonely little maid on board a British ship of 
the line of which he was an officer. He entered 



There was a general movement in the room 
toward where we were sitting, as the man named 
Charles came over and joined us. 

' 'T is the sad truth that you 're an idler, Ver- 
non," he said, assuming an air of concern, "but I 
am the hardest-worked man in England." 

"And pray what is your business?" I asked 
curiously, at which there was a roar of laughter 
from the young men, though it was not joined in 
by the one to whom I spoke. 




'FAITH, YOU VE GROWN FINELY, AND WILL BE A CREDIT TO THE FAMILY, AFTER ALL,' H 



the house one day with a stoutish gentleman 
whose name I did not catch, and, although I 
noted there were murmurs when they appeared, 
I forgot them in greeting Mr. Vernon, whom I 
greatly liked. He and I sat and talked together 
for a while of the old days and of the events of 
the war. Then I rallied him for the useless lives 
the men in England led, and compared them 
to those in America. 

Instead of answering, Mr. Vernon called across 
the room to the stout gentleman with whom he 
had come. 

"Here, Charles, come to my rescue. I 'm being 
abused as an idler, and you too are included in 
the condemnation." 
Vol. XL.— 8q. 



"I am engaged in keeping Lord North awake," 
he answered gravely, and I half guessed his 
meaning, for Lord North was the bitterest enemy 
America had. 

"Then you are — are — " 

"Charles James Fox, at your service," he an- 
swered with a smile. 

"And America's best friend in Parliament," 
Mr. Vernon added. 

"America is my country, you know," I said, 
looking at Mr. Fox. 

"Then am I doubly tied to it," he replied gal- 
lantly, and took my hand, remarking at the same 
time, "But are you never going to drive out the 
invader?" 



706 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



"Never doubt it!" I cried, while Mr. Fox 
looked keenly at me with a half-smile on his face. 

"Bravo ! bravo !" cried a voice at my elbow 
that was new to me, and I turned to see a man 
writing busily on a tablet. "Faith, I love a pa- 
triot !" 

" 'T is Mr. Walpole," said some one, and this 
was taken by us both as an introduction, and I 
curtseyed my best to one of whom I had heard 
much. 

So it came about, in one way or another, that I 
met some of these gentlemen, who, though they 
played the dandy and macaroni, were neverthe- 
less shaping the affairs of their country to their 
liking. Mr. Fox, for example, who, while he was 
cordially hated by the king, was also feared by 
him, and so, at last, had his way — to the great 
gain of America. 

It was with some diffidence that I approached 
with Granny the subject of the portrait, for I 
feared her disapproval; but I was relieved to 
find that she cordially welcomed the suggestion. 

" 'T is a very proper sentiment on Mr. 
Travers's part," she said promptly. "I shall write 
to Sir Joshua and tell him he is to have the 
honor"; which she straightway did. 

One morning, some days later, a polite note 
was handed to her from Sir Joshua, saying that 
he had but lately returned from Streatham, that 
he had much work on hand, and proposed a tour 
of the Low Countries, so that he must forego the 
honor and pleasure she offered. 

I thought all was over as far as he was con- 
cerned, and could have cried at the thought of 
John's disappointment, had I been alone ; but I 
had not counted on Granny. She fairly bristled. 

"Order our chairs," she cried to Marlett. "He 
does n't want to paint her, does n't he ? What 
right has the son of a preaching schoolmaster to 
have likes or dislikes? We '11 go to Leicester 
Square and see what tune he sings." 

With Granny, to think was to act, and it was 
not long before we were at the painter's door, 
and information was brought to us that Sir 
Joshua was within. 

"Come, child," cried Granny, and we descended 
from our chairs and mounted the great stairway, 
with its curious balustrade, shaped with a deep 
curve to accommodate the wide sweep of his fair 
sitters' skirts. 

Chapter XVI 

SIR JOSHUA PAINTS A PORTRAIT 

As we entered the room, there came toward us, 
with a very brisk manner, a man who was below 
middle height and rather inclined to stoutness. 
His face was pleasant enough, but much pitted 



from smallpox, and his mouth was disfigured as 
the result of an accident in his youth, I learned 
later, when he was thrown from his horse and a 
surgeon had cut away a portion of his lip. This 
slightly affected his pronunciation of certain 
words ; moreover, he was apparently very deaf, 
for he carried an ear-trumpet. All these defects 
seem to make up an unattractive personality, but 
in Sir Joshua, for it was he, of course, one forgot 
these misfortunes at once. His air was so en- 
gaging and pleasant, his movements so quick and 
active, that he gave the impression of a young 
man. 

"Now this is good of you !" he exclaimed, bow- 
ing over Granny's hand. "You 've come to con- 
dole with me that I am unable to paint your 
granddaughter." 

"Nay," said Granny, suavely, "I have come to 
you for advice. You see, the child's picture must 
be painted." 

"I am desolated that I cannot undertake it," Sir 
Joshua put in. "But my engagements are such — " 

"Oh, that I appreciate," said Granny, holding 
up her hand ; "but, not to trespass on your time, 
let me come to the point at once. As you cannot 
paint the picture, to whom would you advise me 
to take her ? She is not the ordinary maid, and 
a mere journeyman could scarce represent her. 
Take off your hat, child, and let Sir Joshua see 
what I mean." 

Blushing to be thus put upon exhibition, I yet 
complied, while Sir Joshua, setting great horn- 
bound spectacles on his nose, began to "hum, 
hum," to himself as he looked at me. 

"Of course there 's Benjamin West," Granny 
suggested, and would have continued but Sir 
Joshua cut her short. 

"She is no classic column to be set like stone," 
he said impatiently. 

"True, true !" agreed Granny, "Romney might 
make a success of her," she went on, regarding 
me with her head on one side and her quizzing- 
glass held to her eye. 

"You mean the man in Cavendish Square !" 
exclaimed Sir Joshua, contemptuously. "No, no, 
Mrs. Travers, ma'am. He would scarce do for 
her." 

"Then I take it you think we should go to 
Thomas Gainsborough," Granny remarked, mak- 
ing a little movement toward the door, as if the 
matter had been determined, though, in truth, 
Gainsborough had not been mentioned between 
them. "Gainsborough is the right one," she 
added, with finality. 

"Stop, madam!" cried Sir Joshua; "Titian is 
the right one ; but, failing him, you will have to 
put up with one Joshua Reynolds— as well you 




"I STOOD THERE FOR FOUR MORTAL HOURS WHILE SIR JOSHUA PAINTED." (see page 708, 

707 



708 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



[JVNi, 



knew when you bade her unbonnet," he went on, 
shaking a playful finger at Granny. 

"But you have no time !" cried Granny, with an 
arch look at him, "and we must be gone !" 

"You '11 be gone into the studio !" commanded 
Sir Joshua, yet there was something of pleading 
in his tone also. "Think of the pleasure it will 
be to portray flesh and blood instead of faces hid- 
den under powder and paint, and do not force me 
to postpone it." 

"But the child is not dressed for the occasion," 
protested Granny, letting him have his way, 
nevertheless. 

" 'T will be all the better if she 's unstudied. 
Half the charm might go with too great prepara- 
tion," Sir Joshua assured her, leading the way 
into the studio. 

As we walked in, Granny said something of my 
having been to the Americas, and Sir Joshua 
turned to me with an exclamation of surprise. 

"Has so young a lady made so great a jour- 
ney ?" 

"Oh, yes," I answered; "there and back again," 
I added, with a sigh. 

"How liked you the colonies?" he questioned. 

"They ceased to be colonies even before I ar- 
rived there," I replied, bristling, as I ever did, 
on this subject. "I believe that the British still 
hold Canada, but we have been free and indepen- 
dent States this four years." 

"Heyday !" he cried, much amused, "am I to 
paint a rebel ?" and even as he spoke, his easel 
was set up and a great canvas placed upon it. 
He passed his finger over its surface, and seemed 
to forget all about me, talking to himself fret- 
fully. 

"Though I ground my canvases with Indian 
red and black, yet they crack. I am persuaded 
that all good pictures crack, and that there are no 
fast colors nowadays. I have even taken a Titian 
apart, inch by inch, and examined it chemically, 
yet can I find no difference 'twixt his pigments 
and mine. Mix a little wax with the colors, say I, 
and— don't tell anybody," he ended, with a nod 
and a smile at me. 

Then he began to mix and compound his colors. 

"Tell me about this country you claim as your 
own," he remarked, eying me. "Is it as hand- 
some as England ?" 

"As handsome as England !" I cried, fired at 
the suggestion. "Sure there 's no place on earth 
so beautiful as America. The sunlight is more 
golden, the sky is bluer, the water is clearer, the 
grass—" 

"But 't is a wilderness, is it not?" he inter- 
rupted. 

" 'T is a rich, prosperous, cultivated country," 



I exclaimed in one breath. "Why, Denewood, my 
home, is the prettiest spot in the world. We pride 
ourselves on our flowers and fruits, and an army 
could camp under our trees. You never saw such 
elms and oaks, such beeches and chestnuts and 
evergreens; 't is — " 

"I have it ! I have it !" cried Sir Joshua, taking 
up his brushes. "Madam Travers," he went on, 
over his shoulder, to Granny, "pray, ma'am, make 
yourself comfortable. You '11 find Miss Burney's 
'Evelina' at your elbow. 'T is a right elegant 
novel, and will amuse you." Then he addressed 
me. "Turn your head more to the left, child, and 
stand so!" whereupon he began to paint, seem- 
ingly lost to everything but his model and the 
canvas before him. 

I stood there for four mortal hours while he 
painted, stopping only to consult my reflection 
in a mirror. While he worked and I stood as still 
as I was able, for the aches and pains that 
gripped me, many people came and went ; but Sir 
Joshua gave them no heed. He plied his brushes 
furiously, as though he and I and the picture were 
the only things in the world. 

But I, who had no occupation to interest me, 
found much to claim my attention, and, indeed, 
this helped mightily to make those long hours 
pass more quickly. 

One person I particularly noted. He was a 
great, untidy fat man who talked much to Granny. 
With him was a white mouse of a man who 
circled around him from side to side, as if un- 
certain with which ear he heard him the better. 
The big man seemed most impatient of him, and 
the other would retreat like a chidden spaniel, 
always to return in a hurry at the first word that 
fell from the lips of his fat friend. 

After a while, as more people came into the 
studio and clustered around Granny, I could hear 
their remarks quite plainly ; and it became evident 
to me that they all knew and counted upon Sir 
Joshua's deafness. 'T was not that they said un- 
kind things, for it was plain that they all held 
him in great affection, but they were unrestrained 
in their speech as they could not have been had 
he been able to hear. 

Finally, the busy painter drew back from the 
canvas, gave one look at it and another into his 
mirror, and then threw down his brushes. 

" 'T is finished !" he cried, and turned from the 
easel so that all might see. 

They clustered around it immediately, and, as 
their eyes fell upon it, a spontaneous burst of 
applause came from them. 

' 'T is marvelous !" cried a very fair lady they 
called Mrs. Sheridan, clasping her hands to- 
gether with the prettiest of gestures. 



I9I3-] 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



709 



" T is Beatrice !" declared Granny, at which 
Sir Joshua bowed profoundly. 

"I ask no higher praise, ma'am!" he said. "I 
could not improve on the original." Then, as his 
eye fell upon the fat man, he greeted him with 
great affection, and I learned that this was the 
great Dr. Johnson who had made a famous dic- 
tionary. 

"He must needs have a great head to hold all 
that spelling," I said to myself, and as I gazed at 
him, Sir Joshua led him up to me. 

"You must know my pretty rebel," he an- 
nounced. "Have a care, or she will supplant little 
Burney in your affections." 

"Nay, now," said Dr. Johnson, in his big voice, 
"I 'm willing to love all mankind except an 
American." Nevertheless he shook my hand, and 
looked down at me in a most kindly way. 

"May I not see the picture, too?" I asked, 
rather timidly. 

"Indeed, I should like your opinion," answered 
Sir Joshua, courteously, and I stepped to the easel. 

Standing off at a little distance, I looked at the 
picture, entranced. Sir Joshua had done what I 
believe a true artist must always do. It was as if 
he had discovered a beauty hidden from other 
eyes, certainly I myself had never seen it; and, 
for the rest, the figure stood under a great tree 
on a hillside, and in the distance was a sunny 
landscape. I looked at it, while tears came into 
my eyes. 

Impulsively I turned to. Sir Joshua. 

" 'T is real American sunshine !" I cried, "and 
thank you for making the portrait so much love- 



lier than I could ever be. I am proud to send 
such a picture to Denewood." 

After a word or two, Sir Joshua brought up to 
me a niece of his, a very sweet young lady, by 
the name of Miss Offie Palmer. 

"Is it not wonderful !" I said to her, still gazing 
at the picture. "To think that in four hours this 
has grown up where before there was but a blank 
canvas !" 

"It must be exhibited," she said, as if it were 
a settled matter. 

"Oh, no, no !" I protested. "It must go to 
Denewood at once. Mr. Travers wants it." 

"Then if I am to be deprived of it so quickly," 
said Sir Joshua, "you must at least promise to 
sit to me again when I return from the Low 
Countries." 

That I gladly consented to do, although some- 
thing prompted me to add, "if I am in England." 

I think I had never been so happy since my 
return as I was that day, for the portrait that I 
was to send to John seemed to bring me closer to 
him and to America than I had been for long. 

I sang softly to myself, just humming from 
sheer gladness, and I had no warning of what 
was to come as I walked into the hall on our 
return from Leicester Square. 

"There 's a man asking for you, miss," said 
Perkins, one of the servants. 

"For me?" I replied, surprised. "What sort of 
a man?" 

"I should say he was an upper servant, miss," 
was the answer; "but he bade me say his name 
was Mummer." 



( To be continued. ) 




YOUNG honey-bee: "does any one have to learn 

THAT OUT OF A BOOK! " 




TREE-TOP ROMANCE 

BY MELVILLE CHATER 



Ho ! all aboard the Tree-top Ship ! 

Aloft the summer breeze is wailing; 
Our anchor 's up, our hawsers slip, 

And 'round the world we 're smoothly sailing. 

Good-by, old house, old garden, too, 
And Sarah's Monday wash a-drying ! 

I 'm lookout-man amid the blue. 
And overhead the clouds are flying. 

Our gravel walks, so flat and neat, 

Like slender brooks, seem half in motion. 

Hurrah ! There 's China at our feet, 
And yonder the Atlantic Ocean ! 

Ho ! Reef our sails, you men behind ! 

We 're far upon the angry billows- 
No sound except the singing wind 

And Martin beating rugs and pillows. 



The clothes-lines' fields of ice and snow 
Our gallant bark has left behind her 

For jungles African — where Beau 
Is barking at the organ-grinder. 

And now we 're where the maps are bare — 
Green empty space — north pole — Sahara. 

See yellow Asia, over there, 

Where Martin 's stopped to talk with Sarah ! 

Ho ! Jason, Siegfried, Bedivere, 

Thor, Sinbad, Captain Kidd, and Nero ! 

Take note the ship that 's drawing near, 
And on her deck the world's high hero. 

x^nd if, because your pride demurs, 

Ye bar my path with sword or truncheon, 

I '11 fight ye single-handed, Sirs ! 

— Oh dear ! There goes the bell for luncheon ! 





"I 'M LOOKOUT-MAN AMID THE BLUE, AND OVERHEAD THE CLOUDS ARE FLYING." 

711 



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A JUNE SUN-BATH FOR THE DAY-NURSERY BABIES. 



FAITH 



("Simple Thoughts on Great Subjects") 

BY GEORGE LAWRENCE PARKER 



Faith is one of the great words in our language. 
It is so often used in sermons that, at the be- 
ginning, I am afraid you may think that I am 
going to preach to you. But I am not. I am 
just going to talk with you. And our chat is not 
going to deal with some of the hard meanings of 
this word, but only with some of the very simple 
things that we meet every day. 

By saying that I am going to talk with you, I 
find right away my first meaning of faith. And 
it is this. Faith is the very thing that makes 
us able to talk with each other. You meet a 
friend and talk about yesterday's rain-storm, or 
to-morrow's excursion, or what you are going to 
do next week, because you believe — that is, you 
have faith— that he is interested in these things, 
just as you are. 

So faith is the link that binds us together, and 
if we should do away with it, our lives would 
stop. We should soon cease to act at all. If a 
man halts me on the street and asks, "Where 
does Mr. Harrison live, please?" he believes that 
I will tell him correctly if I can. If I get on a 
trolley-car, I believe, or have faith, in a great 
many things. I believe that it is a safe car; I 
believe it will take me where I want to go ; I be- 
lieve the motorman knows how to run it. If I did 
not, I would just stand on the corner in doubt and 
fear, all the time. 

You see, faith in each other makes the world 
go round. When I post a letter, I have faith 
that the United States Government, if I have 
stamped the letter, will deliver it, even thousands 
of miles away. I have no real guarantee that it 
will do so. I act on faith. 

And then, too, when we say a person has 
broken faith with us, we say about the worst 
thing of him that can be said. We know that in 
war the safety of the whole army depends very 
often, and nearly always at night, on a few 
chosen men. If a sentinel is unfaithful, the 
whole army is in danger. And just so, if we are 
not worthy for others to have faith in us, we put 
everything in danger. 

Now there is another meaning to the word 
faith. It means "keeping at it," keeping at the 
thing we have started out to do, no matter what 
the discouragements are; it means keeping be- 
fore us all the time the real value of any task. 
It is not always easy to do this, and the only 
possible way to do it at all is by faith. Every- 
thing in the world grows tiresome to us unless we 
Vol. XL. —90. 713 



again and again remind ourselves that it is worth 
doing. We must see some real result at the end 
and put faith in that. Then we can go on. If 
we sit down and say, "Oh, what 's the use ?" we 
spoil it all. For, unless we believe there is use in 
what we do, then, indeed, there really is n't any 
use in it. But if we "keep at it," the use and 
meaning of it come to us. Think of those men 
in Libby Prison who dug their way out by using 
just a knife and their own hands, covering up 
their work, too, each day, and having to do part 
of it over again next day ! What made them go 
on ? Only faith. They saw the light of liberty 
at the end ; they saw, too, what it really meant, 
and they "kept at it." 

I really believe that "keeping at it" is almost the 
greatest thing in the world. There may, indeed, 
come times when we have to change our plans, 
or give them up for something else ; but even 
then we can take faith with us, and see worth- 
while-ness in it all. The only way to prevent 
discouragement is to ask ourselves constantly, 
"Is n't this worth doing in spite of its being very 
hard?" And if we can honestly say that it is, 
then we will find ourselves able to go on. 

Now let me have one more word with you 
about faith before we end our chat. To faith in 
people and faith in what we are doing add one 
thing more— faith in yourself. You will get dis- 
couraged with yourself perhaps oftener than with 
any one else, and oftener than with anything 
else. But remember that you are worth while, 
that if you had no value you would not be here at 
all. If you undertake something, having no faith 
in yourself, you are sure to fail. If you believe in 
yourself, if you go at this or that good thing as if 
you were just the one to do it, and keep at it 
until it is done, you are almost sure to succeed. 
In Vergil's great story, the "yEneid," this is said 
about some men : "They are able because they 
think they are able," or, "They can because they 
think they can." And it is just so with us— if 
we think we can, that is, if we have faith, there 
are very few things that we should do which will 
prove too hard for us. If you are constantly 
wondering whether you can do it, you will never 
do it. Faith says, "I think I can, therefore I 
can !" 

Now, surely, these are simple things about 
faith. Faith in other people, faith in what we 
are doing, and faith in ourselves ; let us hold to 
each one of them, for we need them all. 





SIGNALS AND 
SIGNAL - STEALING 



B^t&fcfcG4*AUDY 



Author of "The Battle of Base-ball," " Playing the Game," etc. \ 




SECOND PAPER OF THE SERIES— THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME 



Minute, unseen telegraph-wires run throughout 
your body. Doctors call them nerves. But they 
are as truly wires for the transmission of signals 
as are those of copper or of iron which are 
strung high on poles to carry the telegraph mes- 
sage or the telephone current. When you stand 
at the plate with your bat in your hands and see 
a fast ball coming, your brain telegraphs through 
the motor nerves to your arms, "Swing!" — and 
they do swing! If your muscles have obeyed 
your brain accurately, you hit the ball. If your 
brain has said, "Swing at the level of your waist," 
and the pitcher has pitched a low drop, then you 
get a strike called against you ! 

Base-ball itself has nerves, and these invisible 
wires transmit messages. The signals they trans- 
mit are those "signs," as the League player calls 
them, by which one player notifies another what 
to do. A good part of a Big League ball game is 
bound up in the giving of these signs or sending 
of these signals, and the attempt of the other 
side first to see and recognize these signs, and 
then interpret them. 

First, as to the fairness of this part of base- 
ball. There is a rule and a penalty for the 
violation of that rule, for almost every conceiv- 
able situation. There is nothing explicitly stated 
in the rules against the use of secret signs, or 
against the "stealing" of those signs by the other 
side, so long as signs are given or "stolen" with- 
out artificial aid. In other words, to watch a 
catcher carefully and discover what he is doing 
with his hands when he stoops down behind the 
bat and picks up a little dirt, is fair ; to have 
some one watch him from the outfield with a 
pair of field-glasses, and report by waving a 
handkerchief what he sees, is unfair. Any means 
of "stealing" signals which is open to either side 



and with no outside aid, is considered entirely 
legitimate in base-ball. Wires, moving signs, 
shifting flags, field-glasses, telegraph instru- 
ments, etc., are unfair, and, for many reasons, 
among which is a heavy financial penalty, are 
never resorted to any more in Major Leagues. 

One of the many points of difference between 
a boys' team, a college team, and a Major League 
team, is this matter of "signs." The boys' team 
usually has two or, at most, three signs. The 
college team will often have them by the dozen, 
and the Major League will have less than ten, 
but will have several different "sets" of the pre- 
scribed ten signals. The boys' team "does n't 
bother." The college team, seldom playing more 
than one or two games with any one opponent 
in a season, does n't need multiple sets of signs, 
but often does overdo the signaling, apparently 
from pure joy in using the head as well as the 
hand and arm. The Major League team gets 
along with as few signs as possible, but must be 
able to change those on the instant, if they are 
being read or "stolen" by the opposing players. 

The principal signs are those between pitcher 
and catcher. As a general rule, the catcher is the 
thinking end of the battery, and signs to the 
pitcher what it is he desires pitched. So catchers 
rather than pitchers usually do the signaling, for 
many reasons. In the first place, the signs can be 
better concealed by the catcher; in the second 
place, the catcher plays in more games than any 
single pitcher, and can thus the better know the 
weakness of opposing batters; in the third place, 
the catcher is in a better position to see the bat- 
ting team's sign for a "steal" or the "hit-and-run" 
play, and thus can himself signal for a "pitch out" 
to stop it; and in the fourth place, catchers' signs 
are more easily visible to the short-stop and sec- 



714 



SIGNALS AND SIGNAL-STEALING 



715 



ond baseman of his own nine than those a pitcher 
makes, facing the catcher. 

As every lad knows, the catcher gives his signs 
when stooping down, hiding them behind his big 
glove, his knee, and his chest-protector, so that 
only players in the field may see them. Generally 
he uses but four signs : one for a fast ball ; one 
for a slow ball; one for a curve (whatever curve 
the- pitcher may happen to throw best) ; and one 
for the "pitch out." The catcher may also sign 
for the place he wants the ball to come, that is, 
"high," "at the waist line," or "low"; but that is 
not signaled by a separate sign, but by the posi- 
tion of the sign hand in the glove. Major League 
twirlers know the character of opposing batters 
so well that they need little instruction on this 
score. In the case of a pitcher who can control 
two widely differing curves, it is possible that the 
catcher will have a separate sign for each. 

The signs of the catcher are taken from these 
simple movements : his hand, palm out, open ; his 
hand, back out, open ; his hand, closed ; his hand, 
one finger extended; his hand, two fingers ex- 
tended ; his hand, thumb only extended, etc., etc. 
It makes no difference which signs your team se- 
lects, if both catcher and pitcher thoroughly un- 
derstand them. Lads who desire to perfect this 
matter of battery signs should practise on the 
field, with a boy at bat and one in each coaching 
box, to see if the signs are successfully concealed. 

For you might as well not have any signs as 
to have such signals as can be easily seen, or 
guessed, by opposing players ! 

Big League players are extremely expert in 
this matter of "getting the signs." Men with keen 
eyesight, quick wit, and a retentive memory are 
found in many a base-ball club, able to go out 
on the coachers' lines and catch a glimpse of the 
catcher's signals. It takes little more than half an 
inning for such a player to solve the mystery of 
what sort of a ball is called for by any special 
signal. Suppose the coacher catches sight of a 
closed fist behind the catcher's big glove. The 
next ball pitched is a curve. He sees the open 
hand behind the bent knee, and notes a fast ball. 
It is enough. Watching his runner on first base, 
he holds him from attempting the steal for which 
he was ready, when he sees the catcher hold down 
two fingers. He has guessed two signals, and is 
willing to chance it that the third means a "pitch 
out." Sure enough, the catcher, fearing a hit- 
and-run or a straight steal, has ordered a pitch 
out ! But the runner on first, held back by his 
coach, only laughs. The catcher has been duped ; 
he has had his pitcher "waste" a ball, and all to 
no effect, since the coacher read the signal and 
guessed its meaning rightly. 



The batters and base-runners are concerned 
only in this matter of getting the pitcher's inten- 
tions, through reading his catcher's signals. 
There is no time when actually running to see 
defensive signals between players in the field, and 
play to frustrate their intentions. When you are 
at bat, on the bases, or coaching your runners, 
all the signals of the defense that you have to 
worry about are those between catcher and 
pitcher. 

Note particularly that it is your business on the 
paths or at bat to try to help your coachers, as 
well as for your coachers to try to help you. The 
coachers usually must have their eyes glued on 
you, the pitcher and the catcher, if they are to 
steal signs. At bat you cannot turn around and 
look at the catcher to see what he is signaling; 
and if you could, he would merely change his 
sign the next instant, and you might run the risk 
of getting hit from a pitched ball that you did not 
see coming. 

But you can watch the short-stop and the sec- 
ond and third basemen. 

One of the hard things to teach young infielders 
just getfing a chance in "fast company" is that 
they must not move when they get the signal. A 
normal, right-handed batter will hit a slow ball to 
left and a fast ball to right. Consequently, with 
such a batter "up," the infield will shift for the 
expected ball. Seeing that their catcher has 
signed for a fast ball, they will poise ready to 
jump to their own left, to get the ball which will 
normally and usually go toward right field. 

But the good players will neither appear to be 
"set" for any such shift, nor will they move until 
the pitcher starts to draw back his arm. You, 
watching a ball game, will seldom note that they 
do start before the ball is hit, because your atten 
tion is glued to the pitcher and batter. 

And the batter never sees the infielders move 
after the pitcher starts his wind-up, for the same 
reason : he is too busy watching the pitcher to 
look anywhere else ! 

But if the short-stop or second baseman is new 
to Big League practise, and over-anxious to play 
the "inside game," he is all too apt to start or 
shift his position when he sees the catcher's sig- 
nal. This is fatal. It does not need much skill 
for the man at bat to interpret this movement. 
He knows if the whole infield shifts toward right 
field that he is expected to hit toward right field. 
He knows, if he is a normal, right-handed batter, 
that this means a fast ball. Knowing a fast ball 
is coming, he can "set" himself, and drive it hard 
and far. And note this carefully: no right- 
handed batter is more apt to hit speed to right 
than to left field if he knows it is coming. 



716 



THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME 



[June, 



The contrary is even more true, and worse. 
Seeing a shift of the infield to left— the third 
baseman almost on the bag, the short-stop more 
than half-way between, the second baseman al- 
most on the bag, and the first baseman half-way 
to second— the alert right-handed batter can 
easily figure that the catcher has signed either for 
a slow ball or a curve to break "in" toward the 
batter. Knowing a slow ball is coming, almost 
any batter can knock it to the far corner of the 
lot. It is n't the slowness, but the surprise, which 
makes the slow ball effective. 

Therefore, you at bat, keep your eyes on the 
lads in the infield. When, in turn, you are of the 
four who guard the diamond, see to it well that 
no movement or leaning of your body "tele- 
graphs" the signal of the catcher to the batter. 

If the pitcher gives the signals of what he will 
pitch — which is sometimes done, in order to puz- 
zle the opposing players or for other reasons — 
the catcher should continue to give his signals, 
just the same, with the idea that the opposition 
will be misled. Pitchers' signals to the catcher 
are made up of natural movements. A_hitch of 
his trousers may mean "fast ball," stooping to 
pick up a little dirt to rub in his glove a "curve," 
and an apparently nervous throwing of the ball 
from gloved hand to bare hand and back again, a 
"slow ball." Or the signals can be simplified in 
this way : any movement of the feet after getting 
in the box may mean a "fast ball" ; any movement 
of the arms, such as scratching the head, or rub- 
bing the hands, or hunching the shoulders, may 
mean a "curve ball"; and any movement of the 
head, such as turning several times to watch a 
baseman, or tossing the head apparently to settle 
the cap, etc., may mean a "slow ball." 

If the coacher has been "getting the signs," as 
given by the catcher, to shift the giving of signals 
from catcher to pitcher will puzzle him greatly. 

Now a word about "taking a sign." Big 
Leaguers often object to being "tipped off" as to 
what is coming, except as to the slow and fast 
balls. For if the coach makes a mistake and lets 
the batter know a curve ball is coming, and he 
reads the sign wrongly and it happens to be a 
fast one, an injury may result. For if you "step 
in" to meet a curve and it is a fast one, you may 
get hit ! 

The studious lad will see at once that if the 
short-stop and second baseman can get the catch- 
er's signs, so also can a runner on second base. 
This often happens, and the effort to prevent the 
runner from reading the sign is one of the things 
which causes those little mid-diamond conversa- 
tions between pitchers and catchers which are, for 
some unknown reason, so amusing to the "fans." 



With a runner on second, the catcher and the 
pitcher may step together to arrange what sort of 
pitching is to be "served up" to the batter, or to 
arrange that for this batter the pitcher will give 
the signs. Often, however, the catcher merely 
"covers up" his sign, and, waiting until the runner 
and the pitcher are in line, will "open up" his 
hands just for an instant for the pitcher to see his 
signal. 

The matter is of great importance to the run- 
ner at second, because, if he can catch the "pitch 
out" sign, he has a first-class opportunity to steal 
third base. In a 1912 game, Bush, of Detroit, was 
on second, and Cady, of Boston, behind the bat. 
Cady is young, a fine thrower, and very accurate. 
In this game, Bush, stooping (he is short, any- 
way), was able to see under the "cover up" of 
the catcher and get what he was confident was 
the "pitch out" sign. He had taken a big lead 
from second, and rather expected Cady would try 
to "nip" him by throwing to the second baseman, 
Yerkes. But he had to know when Cady was 
going to do it. Getting the "sign," Bush looked 
away, with his head, but kept the corner of his eye 
on Cady, and the instant the catcher's arm was 
drawn back for the throw to second that he felt 
sure was coming, little Bush darted to third. By 
the time the ball was relayed to Gardner, at third, 
from Yerkes, at second, Bush was a-sprawl on 
the ground, one leg comfortably hooked about 
the bag. The play was close, as it always is, but 
that is the joy of base-ball. Stealing third, by so 
small a man as Bush, who has not the speed of a 
Ty Cobb, is a difficult accomplishment. Knowing 
in advance that the ball was to be thrown to sec- 
ond, however, gave him a big advantage, since 
he took a longer lead than he would otherwise 
have dared to take. 

Some simple system of signals must be ar- 
ranged between team-mates to transmit informa- 
tion from observation. It may be verbal or visual. 
A coach may stoop over to pull the grass a la 
Hugh Jennings, to signal the batter that a "fast 
ball" is coming ; he may push the air in the direc- 
tion of the outfielders, as if motioning them back 
(as Herman Schafer does occasionally when he 
wants the opposing team to think the batter is 
going to hit a long line-drive), to indicate a 
"curve"; or he may stand facing the bench and 
yell to the players to indicate a "pitch out." Any 
natural movements of coachers may be taken as 
signals. Verbal signals are very apt to be read if 
too simple. If you call too often to the runner, 
"Look out, George, he is going to hit it," the 
opposition will soon guess that you mean just the 
opposite, and are instructing the batter that a 
"pitch out" is coming. But if you conceal your 



I9I3-] 



SIGNALS AND SIGNAL-STEALING 



717 



meaning by using one word in a sentence, reading 
a verbal signal by a coach is not so easy. Thus, 
"Get ready, boy— get ready — look out— get 
ready," would sound just about the same if "boy" 
were omitted, and "boy" may be your code word 
for a "pitch out." 

A lad's own ingenuity will invent as good a 
system of signals as any he could read about, so 
no more space need be taken to describe signs 
which any lad can devise for himself. Beware 
here, as elsewhere, however, of having too many 
signals. The coach needs only to be able to in- 
struct the runner what he thinks the pitcher is 
going to do, and to be able to start him home 
or off to second by a concealed word in his 
chatter. 

If the manager plays upon the team, he must 
have a set of signals with his players by which 
he can instruct them when they are at bat. The 
bench manager can tell the batter before he goes 
to bat what he is to do, although he, too, must 
have a set of signals, since he may wish to change 
his orders after the man is at the plate. Bench 
managers' signals are almost invariably through 
motions, while playing managers' signals are al- 
most always verbal. 

McGraw, Jennings, Chance, Clarke, are fine 
types of both styles of managers. McGraw on the 
bench or in the coacher's box, Chance at first 
base, Clarke in the field, and Jennings dancing 
and cavorting about on the lines, all have their 
different methods of conveying their commands 
to the batter. Nor need these signals be compli- 
cated or numerous. A batter must (i) "wait"; 
or (2) try to hit; or (3) bunt; or (4) try to hit a 
sacrifice fly; or (5) play the hit-and-run. If he 
is to bunt or sacrifice, the order to do so will 
probably have been given him before he steps to 
the plate. But there may be two on bases when 
he gets to the plate when he is ordered to sacri- 
fice, and one may be thrown out trying, to steal 
third. A sacrifice then is foolish, with only a 
man on first and one out, and so either the 
straight hit or the hit-and-run should be ordered. 
Hence the need for a signal which can be com- 
municated verbally. The playing manager would 
be apt to conceal his instructions in talk, suppos- 
ing him to be on the paths himself at the time. 
Usually he would be on the bench, and, like Mc- 
Graw, conceal his signals in a quiet movement, 
or, like Jennings, in curious capers, whistle, and 
chatter to the man at first. Systems of signals 
based on a code number are complicated, but al- 
most unreadable. Systems based on a code word 
are more easily guessed, but are easy to remem- 
ber. If you tell your batters, "When I yell your 
first name, hit ; if I yell your last name, sacrifice ; 



if I name the man after you, wait him out," that 
is easy to remember. But, "Remember that the 
third yell (or the first, or the fourth, or whatever 
you say) is the command," is more apt to lead to 
confusion. The opposition can make little of 
hearing a coach say to a runner, "Watch him hit 
it — watch him bunt it— watch him sacrifice — 
— watch him bunt it," yet to the player who knows 
that the third command is the one, the instruction 
to sacrifice is plain enough. 

Perhaps the most watched-for signal of any is 
that given by the batter to the runner. If the 
catcher knows that the batter is signaling the hit- 
and-run on the second ball, that ball will be 
"pitched out." So a batter's actions at the plate 
are a matter of sharp study. If he raises his 
cap, if he rubs his hands in dirt, if he bangs his 
bat on the plate, or if he does all these things, 
the catcher will try to read into them some mean- 
ing, to be made plain by what actually happens. 
Yet these signals are hard to read. One team in 
the American League manages very nicely its 
hit-and-run by a little signal which no one ever 
sees except the one who knows it. It is an old 
signal, too ; probably it is old because it is good. 

Every ball-player, almost without exception, 
rubs his hands in the dirt to keep the moisture 
from the bat. Then he rubs them reasonably clean 
on his clothes. As every ball-player does it be- 
fore stepping to the bat, or between swings, or 
between pitches, it is the most common of actions. 
Just as the thief in Poe's story, "The Purloined 
Letter," concealed the letter by leaving it in the 
most obvious and easily discovered place, so does 
this certain team (it would not be fair to the 
team to name it) conceal its hit-and-run signal 
in this dirt-rubbing process. If the rub is up and 
down, or just down, it does not mean anything. 
But if the man at the bat looses one hand and 
gives a hasty rub up, then the alert young man 
dancing off first base knows his chance is come, 
and that the next time the pitcher draws back his 
arm, his business is to put his head down and 
"dig for second," for the batter will hit that next 
ball if he possibly can. 

Many ball-players who are accustomed to stand 
waiting their turn at bat with the end of the bat 
in the dirt and half leaning against it as a prop, 
proceed to rub the end of the bat with the left 
hand as they come to the plate, to remove any 
dirt which sticks to it. Ball-players are finicky 
about their bats ; and no well-regulated and 
properly educated batter will bat with dirt on his 
stick. Hence, rubbing the end of the bat with the 
hand is a very natural thing to do. The Giants, 
according to Mathewson, used to use this as a 
signal, being carefully restrained from rubbing 



718 



THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME 



their sticks with a man on first unless the hit- 
and-run was to be tried. 

The outfielders should not be forgotten in the 
arranging of signals. Outfielders should know 
what the pitch is to be, in order to be able to shift 
for the prospective batted ball. This is easily 
accomplished by the short-stop or second base- 
man, or, better, both, signaling with their arms. 
Thus, if a fast ball is to be pitched, the short-stop 
may stand for a moment with his hands on his 
hips. If a curve, the second baseman may stand 
the same way. If a slow ball, the short-stop may 
'pick up a bit of dirt and cast it to one side. 

The principal signals between outfielders, how- 
ever, are verbal and not secret. Some one out- 
fielder (preferably center) should be captain of 
the outfield, and his word as to who chases the 
ball and who is to relay it should be an absolute 
signal as binding as those of the bench manager 
or captain. Such calls, however, not being secret, 
hardly belong to the domain of signaling. 

The stories which are told of signals and sign- 
stealing make good reading, but their authen- 
ticity is often doubtful. However anxious a man- 
ager is to have his team know the signs of the 
opposing team, he knows that the foundation of 
professional base-ball is its honesty, and that 
once any tinge of chicanery gets a foothold, its 
fair reputation will be gone, and the public will 
desert the ball park. 

Most of these stories deal with a curious mis- 
understanding of signals, as in the oft-told tale 
in which a batter stole second with the bases full 
and one out, getting his side retired, because he 
saw his manager slap his forehead. "Hand to 
head" was the signal for a steal. In the story in 
question, the manager slapped at a vicious fly 
which was buzzing about his face, with results 
from a base-ball standpoint which were disas- 
trous ! It is understood that the signals were 
changed the next day ! 

A number of years ago, when Detroit was win- 
ning its second or third pennant, but having a 
hard time to do it because of injuries, the batting 
order was frequently changed, and misunder- 
standings of signals came not infrequently. In 
one game, Delehanty was on first and Cobb at bat. 
Cobb usually approaches the plate with three or 
four bats in his hands, so that when he throws 
all but one away, the remaining one feels light. 



Well, at this particular time, Delehanty tried 
to steal second on the first ball pitched, and, as 
it was wide (since the pitcher intended to pass 
Cobb), he was easily thrown out. 

Expostulated with on the bench, Delehanty, a 
clever and heady ball-player, defended himself. 

"You changed signals on me !" he protested. 
"Cobb had three extra bats, as usual, but he 
threw two away first, and then dropped one at 
his feet. I thought it was a 'go-down-on-the- 
first-ball' sign. He usually throws 'em all away 
at once !" 

If players on the same side watch each other 
thus like hawks, for the signs, you can imagine 
how they watch the opposition !— and also how 
clever all signalers must be to conceal their 
signs, while giving them under the very noses of 
the men who wish to read them ! 

A word now in conclusion. Professional base- 
ball-players play the game for the love of the 
game and because they make their living in that 
way. So they play it for all it is worth, and their 
whole waking-time is spent in the perfection of 
the game and in the attempt to make its fine 
points finer. 

Realizing this, the college team has all too 
often "gone the professional one better" in the 
multiplicity and complications of its signals. 

Don't make the same mistake. Don't have too 
many signals. Don't make them complicated. 

Four signs for catcher to pitcher — four signs 
from pitcher to catcher— that is all you should 
need to bother with. 

"Hit !" "The hit-and-run," "A bunt" (or sacri- 
fice), and "Wait!" between bench and batter— 
these are sufficient. 

"Steal !" a signal between the coacher and the 
runner; "Will hit next ball!" a sign from batter 
to runner. 

If you have a simple code for all these things, 
you have plenty for the average lads' game ; and 
if you have them well learned, and if you agree 
to obey signs and stick to it, other things being 
equal, you will seldom fail to vanquish the other 
nines in your league or neighborhood, in just 
the same way that the Chicago Cubs, when at the 
height of their glory, conquered other clubs as 
good or better than they were, because of the 
perfection of their "inside base-ball," engineered 
entirely by signs. 





THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT 

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



Chapter XIX 



BEDOUIN TENTS 



Half an hour's ride down the mountains — the 
way was so steep that the boys were over their 
horses' necks about half the time— brought the 
young rescuers into a region of increasing vege- 
tation, and Gabriel pointed out various shrubs 
and trees growing along the beds of dry water- 
courses. Here were wild olives and acacias, 
this was the mustard-tree, this the famous balm 
of Gilead, and there a thorny bush whose strong, 
sharp spines would tear like a knife point. Grow- 
ing among these thorns was a queer, yellow fruit 
about the size of a cherry, and withered like an 
old crab-apple. The guide gathered a handful 
of these, and the boys found in them, to their 
surprise, a fragrance and delicate flavor suggest- 
ing a strawberry. 

"I say," put in McGreggor, "this man that 
we 're going to meet, he 's a Bedouin, is n't he?" 

"Khalil? Yes, he 's a Bedouin; he 's the chief 
of a tribe," answered Harold. 

"A robber tribe?" 

"Well — yes, but they will treat us kindly. They 
will probably kill a sheep in our honor." 

"Kill a sheep? And — we will eat the sheep— 
with the robbers?" asked Jack, tingling with ex- 
citement. 

Gabriel smiled, and smacked his lips eloquently. 

"That is why they kill it, sair. There is noth- 
ing better than— what do you call it— mutton?" 

"That 's right — mutton," nodded Harold. 

"There is nothing in the world more deleecious 
than mutton as they serve it in the black tents of 
the Bedouins. You will see." 

"That 's the best news I 've heard in some 
time," beamed McGreggor. "Me for the robbers 
and the deleecious mutton. Eh, Sandy?" 

Suddenly the shadows deepened as the sun sank 
behind the hills. The purple haze and the rain- 
bow tints were gone. The mountains of Moab 
across the plain looked dark and cruel, especially 
the rugged mass of Mount Nebo, where Moses lies. 

"What 's that?" started Harold, as a deep, 
musical whistle sounded from a thicket before 
them— "Hoo hoooooo hoooooo," and then again, 
"Hoo hoooooo hoooooo." 

"A turtle, sair," answered the guide, meaning 
a turtle-dove, and the boys knew how "the voice 
of the turtle" sounds in the land. 



Jack shifted on his saddle and glanced about 
him uneasily. 

"Say, are there — are there any animals about 
here?" 

"Yes, sair. There are jackals on the plain, and 
leopards in the mountains and wild boar along 
the river. Not many, but some. And there are 
snakes, too, bad snakes. They bite the natives 
mostly; bite their bare feet. See, like those wo- 
men — they come from Jericho." Gabriel pointed 
to a group of straightly veiled figures moving 
along silently with baskets on their heads. As 
one of these women threw back her veil, she 
showed a coarse face with queer marks tattooed 
around the mouth. 

"Where are they going with those baskets?" 
asked Harold. 

Gabriel spoke to the muleteer in Arabic. 

"This man says they are going to the Dead 
Sea, sair, to steal salt." 

"To steal salt?" 

"Yes, sair. The government takes all the salt, 
like all the tobacco, but the peasants come and 
scrape it off the ground and carry it away. Some- 
times the soldiers fight them." 

"Is there salt on the ground?" marveled Jack. 

'Yes, sair, much salt. You will see. Ah ! be- 
hold Khalil !" 

With a dramatic gesture, Gabriel extended his 
arm toward the motionless figure of a horseman 
that suddenly came into view at a turn of the 
road. The horse was pure white, the rider's 
head was swathed in white, and over his shoulders 
hung a black mantle. It was the Bedouin chief, 
waiting. 

Khalil saluted with dignity as the riders drew 
up, and immediately there ensued a low-voiced 
colloquy, of which Jack understood absolutely 
nothing, and in which all took part except Mc- 
Greggor and the muleteer. It was plain, how- 
ever, that Harold and the Bedouins were coming 
to some agreement, and, presently, Harold drew 
forth his purse and gave Khalil a handful of liras. 
Whereupon the Arab, after pointing over the 
hills, saluted again most respectfully, and gal- 
loped off, leading the extra saddle-horse. 

"Well," said Jack, when this mysterious trans- 
action was accomplished, "I hope you know what 
you 're doing, Sandy. I 'm sure I don't." 

Harold thought a moment, and then, laying his 
hand affectionately on McGreggor's shoulder, he 



720 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



721 



said: "Don't be sore, Jack. I 've kept my mouth 
shut because Basil told me to, but it can't make 
any difference now. Listen ! You 've just seen 
this Bedouin start off with the extra saddle-horse. 
You can guess where he 's going?" 

"Mar Saba?" 

"Right. It 's only an hour from here. He '11 
be back in the night, and—" Evans choked a lit- 
tle. "I hope he won't come back alone, Jack." 

McGreggor reached forward impulsively and 
gripped his friend's hand. "I do 
hope that he brings your father, 
Sandy." 

"Thanks, old boy. It looks like 
an easy thing," continued Harold, 
trying to hide his feelings. "Those 
Mar Saba people trust Khalil, so 
they '11 let him see my father, and 
— he has eighty yards of silk rope 
wound around his waist. It 's the 
strongest that 's made but not bulky, 
and — that money was Basil's, he paid 
it — thirty liras. And Khalil is to 
have thirty more if he brings Fa- 
ther here safely." 

"Is the idea to have your father 
slide down that rope— eighty yards?" 
whispered Jack. 

"That 's it. Careful now !" He 
pointed to several Bedouins who 
came galloping up with a grand 
flourish, but with every mark of re- 
spect. "These are Khalil's men. 
They are going to entertain us until 
he comes back." 

It is certain that the boys were 
well entertained on this occasion in the black 
Bedouin tents that spread over a neighboring- 
hillside. Jack always treasured the memory of 
this night's experience, and of the banquet which 
was prepared for the young Americans. Indeed, 
it was a really wonderful meal, consisting of 
soup, roast sheep, a mound of vegetables, and a 
thick layer of rice cakes, heaped together in a 
bowl about a yard in diameter, and served without 
spoons, forks, or knives. 

After this savory repast had been with diffi- 
culty devoured, the satisfied company gathered, 
cross-legged, around a pleasant tent-fire, and 
enjoyed two hours of Oriental story-telling. And 
here Nasr-ed-Din proved himself a star per- 
former, his contributions calling forth enthusias- 
tic approval from the ring of bronzed faces. 

The Bedouins applauded his stories so heartily 
that Deeny was just preparing to relate another, 
when there sounded outside a clatter of hoof- 
beats coming rapidly up the hill. 
Vol. XL.— 91. 



Deeny listened attentively and lifted two fin- 
gers. 

"Two horses!" exulted Harold, springing to his 
feet, his eyes shining, his whole body trembling 
with excitement, as he hurried toward the door 
of the tent. 

By a common impulse the others followed, and, 
a moment later, they all were crowding out into 
the darkness, eager to learn the result of their 
leader's mysterious mission. 




"IT WAS THE BEDOUIN CHIEF, WAITING 



Chapter XX 



MAR SABA AT NIGHT 



Harold's heart sank as he stepped out into the 
night, for a single glance showed him the white 
rider galloping up the hill with an empty-saddled 
horse behind him. Dr. Wicklow Evans was not 
there. The rescue plan had failed. 

"What happened ? What went wrong ? Quick !" 
he demanded, as the Bedouin sprang to the earth. 

With an impatient gesture, Khalil ordered his 
followers back inside the tent. Then he explained 
the unfortunate turn of affairs. It was very sim- 
ple. In spite of their secrecy, some suspicion 
had reached Mar Saba that a plan was on foot 
to rescue Dr. Evans, and when the Arab ap- 
peared at the gates, he was not only refused his 
usual privilege of seeing the prisoner, but he was 
not even allowed to set foot inside the convent 
walls. In vain he had argued and pleaded. The 
head of the convent had given positive orders 



722 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



[June, 



that Khalil was not to be received on any pretext 
whatever, and the Bedouin, angry and discom- 
fited, had finally ridden away. It was fate. There 
was nothing more to say. 

"There 's a good deal more to say," replied 
Harold, with flashing eyes. 

"What are you going to do, Sandy ?" asked 
Jack. 

"Do?" cried Evans, and his face bore the look 



men insisted, he would do his best. It may be 
added that Khalil had received five extra liras for 
his trouble. 

Soon after the start, Harold pushed forward 
and rode beside Khalil, and for several miles the 
two remained in earnest conversation, holding 
their horses to a quick walk. As the road grew 
steeper, they dismounted to adjust their saddles, 
and Evans showed Jack how to fasten his saddle- 




EVENING IN A BEDOUIN TENT. 



the St. Paul boys had seen in a famous foot-ball 
game, when, in spite of his slender figure, Sandy 
went through the Andover line for eighty yards 
and scored a touch-down. "Do ? I 'm going to 
get my father out of Mar Saba." 

Then, turning to Khalil, with the air of a 
young commander, he called for the horses. 

The Bedouin stared in amazement. The 
horses? Were the gentlemen tired of his hos- 
pitality? No, but the gentlemen had urgent busi- 
ness to transact. They were leaving at once. 
But it was long after midnight. It was not safe 
for the gentlemen to be abroad at this hour. Safe 
or not, they were going, Harold replied, and, 
what was more, Khalil was going with them. No, 
said Khalil, he was not going with them ; he was 
certainly not going with them. 

Half an hour later, the little cavalcade set 
forth once more, turning their faces toward the 
rugged heights of Mar Saba. And on the fore- 
most horse (such is the power of an unswerving 
purpose) rode the Bedouin. It was a foolish and 
useless effort, he grumbled, but, since the gentle- 



girth in front around the horse's chest, native 
fashion, so as to keep it from slipping back. 

"Say, Sandy," ventured McGreggor, as they 
started on again, "have you any idea what we 're 
going to do when we get to Mar Saba? Honest, 
now, have you?" 

Harold's face brightened as he answered his 
friend. 

"As a matter of fact, Jack, I had no idea when 
we started except that we must do something, but 
— it 's wonderful, old boy, the way things happen. 
I guess we 're being steered better than we 
know." 

"All right, and then what?" said McGreggor, 
in a matter-of-fact tone. 

"The point is, I 've been talking to Khalil, ask- 
ing him questions, and he 's given me an idea. 
We 've got to get that rope up to Father, and— I 
know how to do it." 

"Fine !" 

"That is, I think I do. Just give me a few 
minutes to work out my plan. We '11 be there in 
half an hour." 



I9U-] 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



723 



"All right ! Keep your thought machine work- 
ing full time," said Jack. "I guess we '11 need it." 

The moon, swinging high in a cloudless heaven, 
had wrapped the rude mountain gorges in silver 
splendor. For another mile, the hoys rode on in 
silence, and now all kept 
their horses in single file as 
the path grew steeper and 
narrower. Presently they en- 
tered a great canon where 
every horseman needed his 
wits about him as they skirted 
giddy chasms black with 
shadows in their depths. 
Then, suddenly, there lifted 
before them a vague mass of 
tower and archway, and a 
moment later the fortress- 
monastery came into view, 
clinging to the face of the 
opposite precipice with the 
moon full on it. 

"So that 's the little job 
we 're up against," muttered 
Jack, as he looked across the 
gulf and rested his eyes on 
this rambling habitation, built 
like a swallow's nest against 
a wall, with a great depth 
below and a great height 
above. In the moon's trans- 
forming light it looked like a 
flattened-out castle with tur- 
rets and galleries and battle- 
ments. 

And presently a strong 
voice sounded through the 
night and was joined by 
other voices that rose and 
fell in suppliant cry. No 
need to understand the 
words ; it was a prayer for 
help and forgiveness ; it was 
the monks chanting. 

As the voices ceased, a bell 
struck ten with harsh, quick 
strokes, telling that it was 
ten o'clock by the Arabic 
reckoning of time, about half- 
past four, English time— and 
already the day was breaking. 

Harold motioned the company to draw back. 

"We must n't be seen I" he whispered. 

And now, stretched on their backs, with a sad- 
dle blanket to ease the hardness of the rocks, the 
boys saw two things that they always remem- 
bered—a star rising up like a lifted torch, and a 



jackal. The jackal was walking along a ledge of 
rock, so plain against the dawn that they could 
see each foot lift. Then the morning star flashed 
suddenly over a bald mountain crest, like a light- 
house signal. And even as they looked, there 




WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT WENT WRONG?' DEMANDED HAROLD." 



was clear sky between the star and the mountain, 
one inch, two inches, then a foot. Most extraor- 
dinary ! A star was racing up the sky, they could 
see it move ! 

By this time, the convent was rousing itself for 
the day. More bells rang. Monks appeared on 



724 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



[June, 



the terraces, and moved along the narrow bal- 
conies. Jack discovered one monk standing on a 
high tower and looking down into the canon. 
Others mounted crooked stone stairways that led 
from terrace to terrace. Two came out with 
bread and fed it to some yellow-breasted grackles, 
evidently pets, that fluttered in and plucked the 
crumbs from their hands. Harold rose and beck- 
oned to Khalil, who nodded, and led the way 
down a precipitous path. 

"Come on, Jack. I '11 show you what we 're 
going to do. We will send Gabriel to take the 
horses around by a long way, and— Careful with 
the horses ! Careful there ! We 've got to get 
down to the bottom of this place." 

Presently, at a lower level, they crossed a 
natural bridge, trellised over with grape-vines, 
and then it was seen that the Mar Saba convent 
did not face the main canon, but hung over a 
tributary gulf, and the boys now found them- 
selves looking across at a second rock wall rising 
full five hundred feet in sheer perpendicular 
above a mountain torrent that tumbled along in 
the depth beneath them. The face of this second 
wall was marked with various irregular openings, 
rising in tiers one above the other, some of them 
connected by ladders and wooden galleries. 

Khalil paused impressively, and pointed to one 
of these openings, saying something in Arabic, 
while Harold listened eagerly. 

"Jack," said the boy, with suppressed excite- 
ment. "You see those openings way up there in 
the precipice? He says they are caves cut in the 
rock— there are dozens of 'em, and— you see that 
large one, the second on the right — that 's where 
my father is. Careful now !" 

Still the descent continued with increasing 
perils. The boys passed along narrow ledges 
where a single false step would have plunged 
them into the gulf. Once McGreggor shut his 
eyes as a treacherous stone slipped from under 
him, but Deeny sprang forward just in time and 
caught his arm. 

Thus, finally, without other harm than some 
bruises and a general weariness, they reached the 
torrent's bed. 

"Whe-ew !" panted Jack. "I 'm done up !" He 
threw himself down by a line of willows that 
fringed the stream, and, kicking his feet among 
the red flowers of a pomegranate bush, he closed 
his eyes wearily. "I '11 never get back up that 
mountain !" he sighed. 

Meantime, young Evans and the Bedouin were 
busying themselves with mysterious preparations. 
Khalil quickly unwound the knotted silken rope 
that had been concealed around his waist, then, 
with Harold's help, he tested every length of it 



over a strong willow branch. At each end of 
the rope, he made a noose. 

McGreggor watched all this in sleepy astonish- 
ment. What were they trying to do? Dr. Evans's 
cave was two hundred feet straight up the face 
of that precipice across the brook. 

"Is one of those nooses to go under your fa- 
ther's arms when he slides down the rope?" 

"Yes." 

"And the other noose is to hitch around some- 
thing up there in the cave and hold the rope ?" 

"That 's it." 

Jack lay back and yawned as if he was trying 
to swallow the mountain. 

"It 's a good-enough scheme, Sandy, but— how 
the mischief are you going to get that rope up to 
your father?" 

Chapter XXI 

THE TIN BUCKET 

"You go to sleep," said Sandy. "I guess you 're 
tired." 

Jack sat up stiffly, and looked at his friend with 
reproachful eyes. 

"Tired?" he retorted. "Why should n't I be 
tired? What do you think I am? A fireless 
cooker? Eight hours on a jouncy horse, no sleep 
all night, and a precipice that breaks your heart, 
for breakfast. Tired? Well, say !" He lay back 
and closed his eyes as if words utterly failed to 
express his feelings. 

For about twenty minutes after this, nothing 
happened. Deeny sat cross-legged on the bank 
and crooned a doleful lullaby as he, too, tested 
the rope that was to save his master. Khalil 
lighted a cigarette and blew philosophical rings 
toward the rising sun. Harold leaned against a 
willow and never took his eyes from that lofty 
cave opening, the second on the right, where his 
father was. His father ! 

Presently a quick whispering brought McGreg- 
gor back to consciousness, and, looking up 
drowsily, he saw a tin bucket descending out of 
the heavens, not falling, but coming down delib- 
erately and on a slant, as if it understood its 
mission. Nearer and nearer to the torrent came 
the bucket, and then, choosing a deep place with 
excellent judgment, it dipped itself therein, after 
which, full to the brim, it began to ascend again 
with long swingings, going closer and closer to 
the precipice across the stream, but never quite 
striking it. 

As Jack followed this well-trained bucket in its 
upward course, he discovered that it was not 
moving miraculously, but was sliding on a trolley- 
wire which stretched down to the mountain 
stream from a flimsy balcony in front of one of 



I9I3-] 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



725 



the caves. And on this balcony, far up the wall, 
he made out a tiny figure of a man turning a 
wheel that drew in or let out a pulley cord which 
operated the bucket on its wire. A moment later, 
this figure was seen to receive and empty the 




"IN BREATHLESS SUSPENSE THEY WATCHED THE ROPE RISE 
HIGHER AND HIGHER." 



bucket, and then start it back on its downward 
journey. 

"Jack !" called Evans, sharply. "Help Khalil 
with the rope while I wave. That 's Father !" 

There was no time for more words nor for any 



show of feeling. The critical moment had come. 

They must act. 

As the bucket reached the stream again, Khalil 

waded in and seized it, and, with a piece of twine, 

made fast the rope. Harold, meantime, was wav- 
ing his hands, and fluttering 
a handkerchief. 

"He 's bound to look down 
when he feels the weight of 
the rope !" said the boy. 
"Then he '11 see me waving." 
"He won't know who it 
is," objected Jack. "It 's too 
far to see." 

"He will know," declared 
Harold, confidently. "Ah, I 
told you ! Look ! He 's wav- 
ing back. Now then ! All 
ready ! Let her go !" 

As the pulley line tight- 
ened and began to lift, Khalil 
fed out the rope which was 
presently dangling down from 
the bucket like a long snake. 
In breathless suspense 
they watched the rope rise 
higher and higher. The 
figure on the balcony stood 
ready and was actually lean- 
ing out to grasp the precious 
means of escape, when sud- 
denly another figure, in a 
blue garment, darted forward 
on a balcony about twenty 
feet beneath. 

"Hurry ! Hurry !" shouted 
Harold, realizing the danger. 
But it was too late. The 
blue-clad figure reached forth 
an implement that looked like 
a rake or a hoe, and, draw- 
ing in the bucket as it passed, 
seized it, despite the frantic 
efforts of the figure above. 

"Oh !" cried Harold, in dis- 
may. "He 's going to cut the 
rope !" 

At the same moment, some- 
thing flashed in the sunlight 
on the lower balcony, and, a 
moment later, the whole 
length of silken cord came 

wriggling down through the air and fell among 

jagged rocks on the opposite bank. 

"It 's hard luck, old boy !" said McGreggor, 

comfortingly, as he saw his friend's distress. 

"Anyhow, we know your father 's up there, that 's 



726 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



[Junk* 



something. There must be some way of saving 
him. We '11 think of something, and— that 's 
good, we 've got the rope, anyway." He said this 
as Khalil came wading back with the rescued 
line. 

Just then a faint cry sounded from above, and 
they caught the words : "Harold ! My son ! 
Wait!" 

Harold waved back that he understood, and 
immediately Dr. Evans disappeared inside the 
cave. Then for ten minutes— it seemed much 
longer— the boys sat anxiously on the bank, won- 
dering what would happen next. 

"Your father seems to be all right," continued 
Jack; "that 's a great thing." 

"Yes," agreed Evans, "but — oh, well ! You -'re 
a mighty good friend, Jack, that 's sure." 

At this moment, Dr. Evans appeared again, 
and was seen to hold out some white object and 
move it back and forth as if to attract attention. 
Harold signaled back that he was looking, where- 
upon the father, with a quick movement, cast the 
white object far out over the canon. He had 
judged his distance so nicely that it just cleared 
the torrent and descended into a cluster of fig- 
trees not a hundred yards from where the boys 
were standing. 

Harold hurried after the prize, and presently 
returned, unknotting a handkerchief in which was 
tied a stone to give weight and a sheet of paper 
bearing hastily penciled words. 

"Say, Sandy, it strikes me you get letters from 
your people in queer ways," grinned McGreggor. 
"This is the second one." 

"I hope it gives us as good a line on what to do 
as the one we got from Mother," answered Evans. 
"It is n't very long, and—" As he glanced over 
the sheet, the boy's face darkened, and he shook 
his head. "I don't see how we can do this." 

"Do what? Read it, Sandy. Read it," urged 
Jack. 

Then Harold read the letter: 



"My Dear Son: 

"I give thanks that my prayers have been answered and 
that you have been brought to me. The idea of the rope 
might have succeeded, but it is too late now. I shall be 
more closely guarded in the future, and you must not try 
again to rescue me. Aboveall, youmust notgototheauthor- 
ities. That would do me great harm ; it might destroy our 
chances of ever meeting again. Youmust goto Damascus 
by the way of Jaffa and Beirut, and seek out Abdul Pasha, 
leader of the young Turk party. Tell him the whole truth. 
Show him the ringwhich I inclose — it is one he gave tome. 
He will do the rest. God bless you, my boy. A heart full 
of love to you and your mother, who is somewhere near, 
I know. 

"Your father, 

"Wicki.ow Evans. 



" P.S. They are kind to me here, and will be glad to have g 



orders to release me; but the orders must come from very 
high up. See Abdul Pasha and show him the ring. 



"But — I don't see any ring!" said Harold, in 
perplexity. "There is n't any ring." 

"Wait ! You may have dropped it. What 's 
this?" Jack darted down the bank and picked up 
a piece of paper twisted together like a child's 
torpedo. "Here it is ! Here it is !" he exulted, 
and handed to his friend a gold ring with a large 
brown seal on which various strange characters 
were cut. 

Harold frowned as he took the ring. "I 'm not 
going to Damascus. I 'm not going to leave my 
father here— not if I can help it." 

"But if you can't help it, then you '11 have to," 
said Jack, philosophically, "just as we had to 
leave your mother there at the pyramid. Eh, 
Sandy?" 

A little later, after waiting vainly for Dr. 
Evans to appear again on his balcony, the boys 
started down the canon, and, after proceeding 
about half a mile, they joined Gabriel, who was 
waiting with the horses at the place agreed upon. 
Deeny was terribly disappointed at the utter fail- 
ure of their efforts. 

"Zavalli Effcndim! Zavalli Effcndim!" ("My 
poor master !") he kept saying, and would not be 
comforted. 

It was a sad and silent company that started 
back for the Bedouin encampment. The more 
Harold pondered his father's admonitions, the 
more he realized that they were sound and must 
be followed. It was evident that some very 
powerful person was back of this conspiracy, and 
their only chance of coping with him was to have 
power on their side also. Perhaps it was better 
that their plan with the rope had failed. They 
might have been pursued and captured. In these 
lawless solitudes anything could happen. 

And yet it was hard for Harold to go away and 
leave his father. Damascus was a long way off, 
and who could say what this Abdul Pasha would 
do ! It was putting a lot of trust in a ring. Be- 
sides, Abdul Pasha might be away, he might be 
ill, he might be afraid to help them. 

As these somber thoughts passed through 
Evans's mind, they came to a picturesque rock- 
bridge across the gorge. A solitary rider on a 
camel was just before them, Harold could hear 
him grunting to the beast, "Khu, khu," to quicken 
his pace. And, again, he followed the circles of 
some floating vultures as they circled over the 
gulf with wings extended, motionless. Then, like 
a flash, the inspiration came. 

"Jack !" he cried excitedly. "I 've got it ! I 've 
got it !" 



I9I3-] 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



727 



"Easy now, old boy !" cautioned McGreggor. 
"If you 're thinking of hitching the rope to the 
leg of a vulture and making him carry it up — " 

"I 'm not silly!" said Evans. "But I 've got 
an idea from the vultures — it was your idea." 

"My idea?" 

"Remember that deep valley near Jerusalem? 
You said it would be a great place to study flying- 
machines. Well, there 's a flying-machine we 
could make. It 's a very simple kind, but it 
would lift that rope, and, if the wind was right, 
we could steer it over the balcony where Father 
was !" 

McGreggor listened incredulously. "I '11 bet 

( To be con 



you four dollars and sixty-nine cents you can't 
make a flying-machine that will do that !" 

"I said we could do it. You '11 help me, won't 
you? We can make a big kite, can't we? A big 
box-kite ? I remember reading about a kite that 
lifted a man twenty or thirty feet." 

The boys faced each other in silence as the idea 
took form in their minds. "By Jove !" exclaimed 
Jack, beginning to be impressed. 

"Will you help me build it ?" 

"Sure I '11 help you !" answered McGreggor. 
Then, after a pause, he shook his head slowly. 
"But you can't steer a kite up to that cave, Sandy. 
You can't do it in a million years." 

tinued. ) 



il 



PLAYIN' BRIDE" 




"Heah cum de bride ! 
Jes watch her stride," 
Dat 's what de organ say 
When you heah de organ play. 



Den come a shoe — 
Biff ! square at you ! 
Ole shoe, he seem' to say, 
'Honey, dis yer weddin'-day !" 

E. W. Kemblc. 




GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE 
GARDEN'S STORIES 

II. THE STORY OF THE WICKED DWARFS 
BY GRACE TABOR 



Each waved one of the two long feathers iA his 
cap politely, as they sailed airily along on a south- 
west wind. And each bowed ceremoniously ; but 
each wore an evil little grin, nevertheless. 

"Your clan is the Greenjacket, I perceive," 
piped the plump one, as soon as he had gained his 
breath, rolling his eyes most amazingly in a side- 
wise look. 

"None other," answered his companion, with a 
bow and a smirk, "while you, sir, it is plain, are a 
Rosy coat." 

"Quite right, quite right," said the first, "I am." 

Silence fell after this brief exchange of cour- 
tesies, and they whirled along pleasantly and un- 
eventfully for some time. Then, suddenly, the 
stout one began to sniff, and smack his lips, 
and lick his chops. And he peered below, cau- 
tiously, balancing himself with one outstretched 
wing. 

"Aha," he gurgled, "spice in my nostrils, and 
honey on my tongue ! But I certainly am glad to 
see that!" 

Greenjacket looked at once in the direction of 
his gaze. "A garden!" he ejaculated, "as I 'm 
alive and famished ! A real garden !" 

Right away, Rosycoat was sorry that he had 
spoken ; indeed, he could have bitten his tongue 
with vexation at himself. So he shut one eye 
and sneezed, in an extravagant attempt to appear 
unconcerned, and edged over sidewise, away 
from his neighbor. "Really," said he, "really, I 



think I must bid you good afternoon, Mr. Green- 
jacket. I fear the air is a trifle — er— brisk. I 
must descend." With that he slid off quickly; 
but Greenjacket, being. slim and even more nim- 
ble, was as quick as he. And together they raced 
madly for the space below whence came the de- 
lightful, mouth-watering odors. 

In the very midst of a Greenjacket camp they 
found themselves, if you will believe it, when 
they came at last to a firm footing on the stem of 
a young nasturtium which grew by the garden 
fence. So Rosycoat saw that it behooved him to 
put on his blandest smile and his best behavior at 
once— which he did. And thus he, too, was asked 
to supper, and also urged by the queen, finally, to 
stay and join the company. 

Of course he did. Nowhere else in all the 
world was there to be found fare of such delec- 
table, ambrosial delight ! Stay and join? I should 
say he did! And how they did eat, day in and 
day out, growing stouter and stouter and stouter. 
And by and by, Greenjacket married the queen, 
and Rosycoat married her first maid of honor. 
And they both had so many children, and these 
had so many children, and these had so many 
children, and these had so many children, that 
they simply could not count their children, and 
their grandchildren, and their great-grandchil- 
dren, and their great-great— oh, dear, there 's no 
end to them! Indeed, some one who reckoned 
them all up, once upon a time, told me that all 



728 



GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN'S STORIES 



729 



the children and grandchildren and great-grand- 
children and great-great— and so on— grandchil- 
dren of just the queen and her husband alone, 
amounted to over six billion ! 

Such a family had to spread out a good deal, 
of course. But only as they were forced by their 
own numbers to do so did they move next door — 
beg pardon, next leaf. For they would not take 
time from their eating to do anything else, even 
to move. They ate and ate, nearly every minute ; 
indeed, that was all they ever did— just sat 
through the long summer hours and drank up one 
continuous meal through the long soda-water- 
straw affair that each one always carried. 

But, one day, just as they were all settled to a 
particularly disorderly and savage eating-contest 
— such contests were their one entertainment — 
between some of the Rosycoat great-great-greats 
and the Green jacket great-great-great-gr^a^r, a 
furious tempest such as never was came right out 
of a perfectly clear sky, sweeping over and under 
so quickly and so angrily, that there was no 
chance to escape it. And when it had passed, 
there they were, all of them, nothing but queer, 
little dried-out husks of 
themselves ! 

This has always seemed 
to me the very nearest to 
really, truly, what is called 
poetic justice, of almost anything 
I have ever heardabout — thatthey 
who had stuffed, and stuffed, and 
stuffed, all their wretched lives, 
should dry up all hollow and 
empty ! Could any end have been 
so fitting? 

"ROSYCOAT."! 

Listening ! That is what the little 
sage was doing, though perhaps he would not have 
called it that. He was listening hard, fortunately, 
as he passed those nasturtiums. That is how he 
came to know that they were distressed, and to 
pick a cluster of the pretty leaves and run into the 
house to show what he had found. There, on 
those leaves, caught right in the thievish act, were 
some Rosycoat and Green jacket guzzlers, so ab- 
sorbed in gratifying their appetites that they 
never even noticed the change in their surround- 
ings. And thus the entire camp was discovered 
in the investigation which followed; and retribu- 
tion found them; and the tempest and deluge — a 
fierce storm of soap-suds — overcame them. Thus 
came these wicked families to their end. 

Aphids: that is what we call these dwarfs when 
we find them in the garden. Oh, you will find 
them, never fear — just about now, too, the first 
1 Rosy Apple- Aphis {Aphis malifolia). 
Vol. XL.— 92. 




of them — if you listen with your eyes'. I mean 
just this. You must do more than look when 
you are tending garden ; you must look so in- 
tently that you actually listen. Don't you feel the 
difference? That is what makes the good gar- 
dener; that is why the plants grow for him. He 
always is watching so keenly that he is listening. 

What do you suppose it is that these aphids eat 
so greedily, the little monsters ? Nothing less 
than the plants' blood ! Up through their power- 
ful soda-water-straw affairs— that are really tube 
pumps which can be sunk deep into the tender 
plant flesh or tissue, just as a mosquito's bill is 
sunk into human flesh — they draw the sap, as fast 
and as hard as ever they can, until they take the 
life right out of the plant, 
and it grows sere and 
brown. 

They hatch from the 
winter eggs about the time 
that the young leaves 
open nicely; and they love 
young, tender plants espe- 
cially. Many things seem 
to be rarely or never trou- 
bled by them ; yet they are 
likely to take up their 
quarters on almost every 
kind of growing thing, 
either shrub or flower — 
and even on some trees. 
A certain kind of aphid, 
indeed, is a serious apple 

pest. Some of them are always green bodied, as 
Green jacket was, while others are pink, tan, pur- 
ple, gray, or even black. Some have gauzy wings 
and can fly, while others have no wings at all, and 
do not usually leave the leaf where they have been 
born or hatched, although sometimes these are 
picked up by the wind and carried along.' All of 
them may be crushed by the lightest touch ; and 
the dark-bodied ones will leave a stain on the 
flesh, or on light cloth— so look out for your 
white dresses ! 

Now you will surely know them — any of them 
—when you come across them. The next thing 
is, What shall be done about them? They will 
soon ruin anything which they attack, so prompt 
work is necessary. Whale-oil soap is preferred 
by gardeners generally for making the soap-suds 
with which to spray them. But it is not necessary 
to get this. I usually take any kind of soap I 
may happen to find in the laundry, melting a 
quarter of a cake in two quarts of water by put- 
ting it on the stove, then adding three gallons 
and a half more water — hot also — to this, after it 
2 Nectarophora destructor. Winged and wingless forms, all greatly magnified. 




' GREENJACKET." 2 



730 



GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN'S STORIES 



[June, 



is melted. This makes four gallons of soap-suds 
altogether. 

You can sprinkle it on the plants with a whisk 
broom, held in one hand and struck sharply 
against the other so that a fine shower is sent 
over the plants. But as the aphids are almost 
always on the under side of the leaves, it is 
nearly impossible to reach them all in this way. 
Of course a real sprayer that will force the fluid 
up from below, or in any direction you may wish 
to send it, is the best. Use the suds as hot as 
you can bear your hands in it, and if the aphids 
have got much of a start and are very thick, put 
the basin or dish with the suds in it down along- 
side the plant, where you can turn the tips of the 
branches right down into the solution. They are 
always thickest at the ends of the branches, for 
it is here that the plant flesh is tenderest and 
juiciest. Spray again two days after the first 
application ; and then keep close watch and spray 
every time you see an aphid. 

Of course there are many more things than 
aphids to think about this month. There is the 
"tillage," for one thing— and oh, a very, very im- 
portant thing it is ! A great many gardeners — 
even farmers — do not know how important it is, 
and what it will do for the plants, and conse- 
quently they never do it, and when there is 
drought, their gardens and their crops suffer 
dreadfully. Then there are others who do prac- 
tise it to a certain degree, but think it is just for 
the sake of keeping down the weeds. But it 
really is very much more than this. 

You know the dirt is not really solid at all, 
dense and hard though it seems. All around be- 
tween the little dust particles of disintegrated 
rock or animal matter that compose it, are spaces, 
just such spaces as you can perhaps understand 
better if you will hunt up a pile of stones and 
observe them carefully; or pile up some apples 
and oranges and nuts together. Dust particles 
do not fit together any better than apples and 
oranges and nuts, or than the bigger particles 
which we call stones. We think they do, only be- 
cause they are so tiny that we cannot see the 
spaces between them. 

When it rains, the water runs down, down, 
down, through all these openings between the 
dust particles ; and the plants have plenty of food 
because it is dissolved off from these particles by 
the water, and thus liquified so that it can be 
drawn in through the plant roots. When it stops 
raining, however, and the sun comes out, the 
water has to return — for water is the slave of 
fire and must obey its call even when it is given 
in the mild form of heat. From away down in 
the ground, up it comes, by means of a move- 



ment called "capillary action," back through all 
the spaces ; and off into the air it goes finally, in 
a vapor so thin that we cannot see it. And 
finally the ground dries out, and the plants can- 
not eat, for their food is locked up. 

There is a way to detain the water for a time 
deep in the ground, however ; this is by covering 
the surface of the ground with a blanket of earth 
looser than the rest, wherein the capillary action 
will be halted because the particles are so far 
apart. And this is just what tillage does. Tilling 
the soil is stirring about gently the two upper 
inches of it twice a week in dry weather, begin- 
ning always the day after a rain. A small hand- 
rake is the best tool to do it with in a small space, 
an ordinary rake in a regular garden. Draw it 
back and forth over all the surface, just as if you 
were scratching the ground. Of course this 
keeps out the weeds, too, but that is not the rea- 
son for doing it. If there were no such things as 
weeds, we still should till regularly and thor- 
oughly. 

By the first of the month, perhaps sooner, the 
seedlings which you have started will have grown 
big enough to thin out to their proper distances 
apart. If you have another space where flowers 
might grow, why not save some of the extra ones 
you take up in this thinning-out operation? If 
you wait until they have the third or fourth leaf 
— that will be the first pair of true leaves, as you 
will understand if you have studied botany at all 
—they may be planted again very easily; really, 
I think it would be much nicer to keep all that 
it is possible to keep, than to throw them all 
away. Don't you? Or perhaps some one you 
know would like to have some of them. 

The ground in the new place ought to be made 
ready for them just about as it was made ready 
for the seeds when they were planted. When it 
is all nicely pulverized and leveled, sprinkle it — 
unless it should rain just then— with hose or 
watering-pot; then go and sprinkle the seedlings 
where they are growing. Then go away and do 
something else until to-morrow at the same time. 

You will remember how those rescued morn- 
ing-glory seedlings were handled by their rescuer 
—how careful he was not to break off a rootlet 
nor to bruise or injure them in any way. Well, 
you must be just as careful. Of course it will be 
much easier, for you are taking plants from nice, 
mellow, yielding earth; but just the same be pa- 
tient and work slowly. You must have a "dibble" 
to help you, which is a tool that gardeners usually 
make for themselves. Any stick about six or 
eight inches long and an inch thick and wide, 
whittled round and to a tapering point, will be 
all right. Perhaps you can find an old broom 



I9I3-] 



GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN'S STORIES 



731 



handle from a playhouse broom. That would be 
exactly right, when sharpened like a pencil. 

This dibble is to be thrust down into the 
ground two or three inches from the seedlings, so 
that it will not reach their roots, and worked and 
tilted back and forth until the earth is loosened 
all around and the plants can be gently lifted 
clear of it. If the plants which you do not in- 
tend to take up are loosened also, press the earth 
back down about them after you have taken the 
ones to be removed quite away. No harm will be 
done. 

To handle the plants, take one of the leaves 
lightly between the soft ball of your thumb and 
your forefinger, thumb on top, finger below, and 
do not touch the roots at all if you can possibly 
avoid it. Take up one at a time, and go at once 
to the place into which you wish to replant it. 
Thrust the dibble into the ground at just the spot 
where you wish it to stand ; push it down an inch 
deeper than the length of the longest root ; pull 
it out, and lower the plant into this hole ; then 
thrust the dibble into the ground again, an inch 
to one side of the original place, and tilt the top 
of it over toward the plant, which you must still 
hold between thumb and finger. This crowds the 
earth sidewise over against the roots, all the way 
to the very lowest tip of them, and leaves none of 
them "hung," as gardeners say, in a pocket of 
earth. If one thrust of the dibble does not seem 
to make the plant firm, push it down again on 
the other side ; then you can work the surface of 
the soil down and pack it very gently with your 
fingers, laid flat onto the ground. Always put a 
plant the least bit deeper into the ground than it 
stood before — from an eighth to a quarter of an 
inch deeper is none too much, but quite enough. 

It is a very good plan to water each plant as 
it is set, but be sure you pour the water on the 
ground about two inches from the plant, and 
from a small spout instead of dashing it out of 
a pail. It should trickle gently down through the 
soil, carrying the loose earth with it, so that every 



little crevice is filled, and every rootlet restored 
to complete contact with the earth. 

Of the plants suggested last month for borders, 
all will transplant satisfactorily except the Cali- 
fornia poppies. These are likely to die if it is 
undertaken, for, like all the poppy family, they 
very much resent being handled. 

It is not too late to plant the seeds of almost 
anything you may wish to try, or, indeed, to begin 
an entire garden ; so why not have some vege- 
tables? If you like string-beans, get some of the 
kind called "Kentucky wonder" and sow them, 
seven seeds to a hill, around a good long bean- 
pole. Put them under the earth just as far as 
you would flower seeds the same size ; when they 
are all up, thin them out so that the four or five 
strongest seedlings remain. Half a dozen such 
hills will provide a family of four or five with 
quantities of delicious beans from the time the 
first are ready to use until almost the end of 
summer ; for they go on blossoming and making 
long green pods as fast as they are picked. From 
four hills we pick enough for a meal. The hills 
should be about twenty inches apart. 

Cress is another thing that is delicious to have, 
and takes up only a little room. Get the kind 
called "upland cress," which is as good as water- 
cress but does not need running water in which 
to grow. Sow the seeds in rows or drills ten or 
twelve inches apart, and sow them about every 
two weeks. Then you can pull up the old plants 
as soon as they persist in blossoming— when they 
will grow rank tasting — and always have young 
and tender ones from which to pick salad and 
garnishing. I should have some sorrel, too, for 
salad, if I were you. The seed of this is sowed 
in just the same kind of drills, but the plants 
must be thinned as soon as they are well up, so 
that they stand about four inches apart. It is 
delicious as a salad, or as a green cooked like 
spinach, or in a chafing-dish, or made into a thick, 
creamy soup. And I do not know of anything to 
eat that is quite so good for people, big or little. 




A NONSENSE SONG 



Oh, Nonsense Nan was a queer little lass, 
She lived in a house made of fine cut glass: 
She rode in a carriage of puffed pink silk,' 
And fed her horses on buttermilk. 



'Sit down," said Nan, "on that nice, soft rock, 
And I '11 chat with you till four o'clock." 
So the cow sat down, and, to Nan's surprise, 
She took from her pocket two popcorn-pies ! 



One day she walked in a Nonsense wood, 
Where every tree wore a worsted hood; 
And a cow stepped up in a social way 
And offered Nannie some cold boiled hay. 



So everything was prepared, you see, 
For a dear little, queer little afternoon tea. 
They chatted and laughed till the sun went down, 
Then Nannie went back to Nonsense Town. 

Oscar Llewelyn. 



•- vXwi,Li~/±iX 




^fe^%4MI t)^ : " H ^* 



« U v 





H.WM>AAVt<>^ 



v T i 1 



4 







THE GREEDY CHICKS AND THE RUBBER BAND. I. EXPECTATION. 2. EMULATION. 3. CONSTERNATION i 

732 



OLD FABLES BROUGHT UP TO DATE 



( Just for fun, and 'with apologies to Aisop ) 



THE TWO GOATS 



THE OLD-TIME FABLE 



Two goats started at the same moment, from opposite ends, to cross a rude bridge that was only wide 
enough for one to cross at a time. Meeting at the middle of the bridge, neither would give way to the 
other. They locked horns and fought for the right of way, until they both fell into the torrent below 
and were drowned. 





THE FABLE BROUGHT UP TO DATE 

At one time a goat, desiring to cross a certain bridge, was met by another goat. Now these goats (like 
some children) were stubborn. Neither would back down, and, as there was not room to pass, a long 
and tedious argument followed. Things were beginning to look serious, when the very wise goat, 
thinking of the aeroplane which he always carried, buckled on his wings, and soon was soaring over, 
much to the amazement of his stupid enemy. 
Moral: 'T is well to rise above a silly argument. C J- Budd, 

733 



THE MARYLAND YELLOW-THROAT 



BY LE ROY TITUS WEEKS 






In a willow by a brook 

(Wheety, wheety, wheety, wheety), 
There I keep a picture-book ; 
Would you like to take a look? 
fust a nest and nestlings sweet,— 
Wheety, wheety, wheety, wheet. 

In the water there you see 

(Weechy, weechy, weechy, weechy) 
Shadows of my mate and me, 
Like a dream of Arcady, 
All too fine for song or speech,— 
Weechy, weechy, weechy, weech. 



How d' you like my mask of black? 

(Wichery, wichery, wichery, wichery), 
How d' you like my yellow sack 
With its olive-tinted back? 
Made at Nature's, every stitch. 
Wichery, wichery, wichery, wich. 

Blithe and happy all the day 

(Weety, weety, weety, weety), 
Here I lilt my roundelay, 
On this tilting willow spray. 
Oh, but nesting-time is sweet ! 
Weety, weety, weety, weet. 





THE SNAIL'S PACE 

BY AMOS R. WELLS 



AID the Snake to the Snail, "How absurdly you crawl ! 
I scarcely can see you are moving at all." 

Said the Hen to the Snake, "With no leg and no wing, 
No wonder you travel so slowly, poor thing !" 

Said the Fox to the Hen, "You have wings, that is true; 
But what are your wings when I get after you?" 



Said the Wren to the Fox, "Don't you think you are spry ! 
But what are your legs to a bird that can fly ?" 

Said the Hawk to the Wren, "In my masterful flight 
Your fluttering pace is a leisurely sight." 

Said the Snail to them all : "This big world is my steed, 
And I travel upon it as fast as I need- 
Yes, daily upon it, in spite of your smiles, 
No less than three fourths of a million of miles. 
You think you excel in your hurrying race : 
Can any one beat me in traversing space?" 




WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



BY A. RUSSELL BOND 

Author of " The Scientific American Boy" and " Handyman's Workshop and Laboratory" 



Chapter VII 

SPINNING A WEB ACROSS THE RIVER 

"I suppose what you are most anxious to see is 
how the cables are strung," said Mr. Blanchard, 
as he walked out of his office toward the bridge, 
after we had presented our letter of introduction. 
"But what 's the use of cables unless you have 
something to tie them to, eh?" 

"You mean the towers," I ventured. 

"Oh, no, they could n't begin to stand up 
against the pull of those cables. We just put in 
the towers to raise the bridge high enough above 
the river — something after the fashion of the 
clothes-poles with which a washerwoman props 
up her clothes-line. Why, you have no idea what 
a strong pull there is on the bridge cables. We 
have to build great masses of stonework, and im- 
bed in the masonry enormous steel bars linked 
together like giant chains, to which the cables are 
fastened. The anchorages of this bridge are each 
as long as a city block (225 feet), and 175 feet 
wide, and when they are finished, they will be 
built up as high as an eight-story building." 

With this impressive introduction, Mr. Blanch- 
ard led the way up to the anchorage, and let us 
see for ourselves the huge chain of eye-bars. 
They were stringing the cables in separate 
strands, and each strand was fastened to a sepa- 
rate pair of eye-bars. 

As Mr. Blanchard was anxious to inspect the 
work at the other end of the bridge, he did not 
stop to explain this just then, but started with us 
up one of the temporary foot-bridges that ran up, 
under each cable, to the nearer tower. 

It was quite a climb, particularly as we neared 
the top, where the slant of the footwalk was very 
steep. The towers, reaching up to a height of 
350 feet above the water, had looked very slender 
from a distance, and hardly strong enough to sus- 
tain the weight of a heavy double-deck bridge; 
but we found on closer inspection that they were 
made of massive steel, rising 322 feet above the 
masonry pier. 

"They 're tremendously strong, are n't they? I 
should think they would stand up under almost 
any load," remarked Will. 

"They '11 carry the load," said Mr. Blanchard, 
"but we expect them to sway some, back and 
forth. The top may move one way or the other, 
as much as two feet from the upright position." 

Copyright, 1913, by A. Russell Bond. 7; 



"Why, how 's that?" I queried. 

"When the summer sun beats upon the cables, 
they will grow so hot that it would be uncom- 
fortable to put your hand on them, and you will 
find that they will have expanded considerably. 
On the other hand, when the bitter cold winds of 
winter chill them down below zero, they will 
contract appreciably. We expect the cables to be 
twenty or thirty inches shorter in winter than 
summer. The total change will be greater in the 
long span between the towers than in the shorter 
shore spans from the towers to the anchorages, 
and so the towers will have to bend to accommo- 
date themselves to this variable pull. In the 
Brooklyn Bridge, the cables pass over cradles on 
rollers, so that they can travel back or forth with 
the cable to allow for these variations in the 
length of the spans. In this bridge, we are going 
to let the cables rest directly on the towers, and 
let the towers themselves bend back and forth, to 
allow for differences in length of the cable. I 
don't suppose they will ever bend much more than 
six inches one way or the other, but we have al- 
lowed for a flexure of twenty-four inches." 

We followed Mr. Blanchard down one of the 
steep foot-bridges and up the opposite tower. 
It was quite a long walk, over a quarter of a mile 
in a straight line, and considerably more follow- 
ing the curve of the cables, as we had to. The 
foot-bridges were merely continuous platforms, 
about nine feet wide, and supported on temporary 
cables under the four main cables that were being 
strung. I kept strictly to the center line of that 
platform, and did n't pay much attention to the 
boats that were plying back and forth beneath us. 
The foot-bridges were connected in pairs every 
five or ten feet, by means of beams, and at vari- 
ous intervals there were cross-walks connecting 
the south .pair of bridges with the north pair. It 
made my flesh creep to see the workmen walk 
across the narrow beams between the platforms. 

All the time, the wire carriers were traveling 
back and forth over our heads, just like spiders 
spinning their threads across the river. The car- 
riers were merely large pulley-wheels connected 
to traveling-cables. The wire was, looped over 
the pulley-wheel, and as the wheel traveled 
across, it would string two lengths of wire at 
once. 

When we had reached the opposite side of the 
river, Mr. Blanchard explained the wire-string- 



736 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



[June, 



ing process. The steel wire was about half the 
size of a lead-pencil, but it was strong enough to 
lift forty men. It was wound on enormous reels 
weighing four tons each, and with 80,000 feet of 
wire to the reel. When the cables were finished, 
they would be nearly two feet in diameter, 21 }4 
inches, to be exact. Each cable was made up of 
9472 wires, strung in thirty-seven separate 
strands of 256 wires each. Altogether, in the 
four cables there would be 23,132 miles of wire, 
or enough to go nine tenths of the way around 
the earth. 

The wire in a strand, he said, was looped 
around "shoes" at each end of the bridge, and 
ran in a continuous length, like a skein of silk. 
When the strand was completed, the ends were 
spliced together. When the strand was started, 
the wire was temporarily fastened at one end and 
passed around the shoe. Then it was slipped 
over the carrier, a signal was given, the cable 
started, and the carrier proceeded merrily on its 
way across the river. When it reached the top 
of the first tower, the lower reach of wire was 
gripped and hauled up until adjusted as to ten- 
sion, so that the sag would correspond with a 
standard guide wire. Then it was clamped, and 
the signal was sent to the next tower, where it 
was similarly gripped and adjusted. This done, a 
signal was sent on to the anchorage, where the 
final adjustment took place. As soon as the car- 
rier released this wire, it took back with it a pair 
of wires of another skein, which gave time for 
adjusting the upper reach of wire just strung. 
The wires were laid at one side of the position 
they were to occupy in the final cable, and when 
the strand was completed, it was moved out of 
the temporary rollers upon permanent shoes. The 
work of splicing the ends of the strand together 
usually took about five minutes. The shoes 
on which the strands were built up were horizon- 
tal. When a strand was completed, the shoes had 
to be drawn back by a hydraulic jack, turned on 
edge, and pulled back between a pair of steel eye- 
bars. Here they were made fast by a cross-pin. 
As the carriers strung two wires at a time, it 
took only six days to complete a strand. The 
wire was drawn through heavy oil and graphite, 
to prevent rusting while the cable was being 
made up. 

We spent many hours on the bridge, examining 
the work, just how many I do not know; but it 
did not seem long before we heard several fac- 
tory whistles, which warned us that it was five 
o'clock, and quitting time. We followed Mr. 
Blanchard down to the wash-room, and began to 
wash up. We were on the Brooklyn side, and as 
I was washing my hands, I looked over across 



the water to the tall bridge-tower on the New 
York side. A thin wisp of smoke was curling up 
from the very top of the structure. 

"That tower looks just like a factory chimney," 
I remarked to Mr. Blanchard. 

"Eh, how 's that ?" 

"Don't you see the smoke coming out of the 
top of it? It seems to be getting thicker." 

Mr. Blanchard took one look at the tower, then 
rushed to the telephone and rang up the office on 
the other side; but could get no answer. He 
rattled the receiver hook wildly, growing more 
excited every moment. Finally, he threw the in- 
strument «down violently, and tore out of the 
room without a word to us. We did n't stop to 
replace the receiver on the hook, but followed 
him as fast as we could up to the top of the 
Brooklyn tower, and then along the foot-bridge 
to the other side. The smoke was pouring in 
dense volumes from the tower now, and we could 
see the flames that were eating up the woodwork. 
It seemed like an endless run across that long 
foot-bridge. I had n't time to think of getting 
dizzy now. My eyes were on the blazing tower, 
that seemed miles away. Down below us a fire- 
boat was screaming, and the clang of fire appa- 
ratus showed us that the fire-department had re- 
sponded promptly. I could see that quite a crowd 
of men had collected and were trying to put out 
the fire. 

We were on the north foot-bridge, and just as 
we neared the burning tower, a gang of men 
rushed down the foot-bridge and across the small 
connecting bridge to the south foot-bridge. They 
had tools with them, and apparently their idea 
was to cut off enough of the timber to prevent 
the fire from creeping across the bridge to the 
Brooklyn side. 

"Come back here, you," yelled Mr. Blanchard, 
when he saw what they were up to. They were 
so intent on their work that they did n't hear 
him. At any rate, they did n't heed, but started 
right in chopping off the planks. Mr. Blanchard 
did n't stop for argument, but ran across the 
bridge and began hauling them back by main 
force. He was so excited he could scarcely 
speak. "What is the matter with you ?" he cried ; 
"don't you know the fire will burn through the 
cables and drop you, foot-bridge and all, into the 
river?" 

It finally dawned on them what he was after, 
and they scampered back, Mr. Blanchard bring- 
ing up the rear. Just as he was half-way between 
the two footwalks, the cables gave way. and 
down crashed the south bridge. The connecting 
cross-walks gave our bridge a yank that sent us 
all sprawling. Will, who was near the edge, 



I9I3-] 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



737 




"A SPOOL OF WIRE ON THE GEAR WINDS THE WIRE AROUND THE CABLE. (SEE PACE 740 



almost rolled overboard, but one of the men he was teetering over the brink, and hauled him 
grabbed him by the waist of his trousers just as inboard. I did n't see that incident because my 




THE ANCHORAGE. EACH STRAND OF CABLE IS FASTENED. TO ITS OWN ANCHOR CHAIN 

Vol. XL— 93. 



738 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



[June, 



attention was fixed upon Mr. Blanchard. The 
cross-bridge had broken in the middle, and as 



that was passing under at the time. There was 
nothing for us to do but to run on up to the 
tower and give what aid we could there, in fight- 
ing the fire. Things were in a pretty bad way. 
The cotton-waste and oil-soaked timbers, and the 
barrels of tar and paint and oil, made the very 
best of fuel, but to fight the fire there was only a 




THREE HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE RIVER. 

the broken end sprang up, Mr. Blanchard was 
nearly slung off by the recoil. But he clung on 
desperately until some of the men had recovered 
sufficiently to seize him and drag him up to 
safety. 

The fallen foot-bridge did not drop into the 
river, but was caught in the tangle of suspended 
cables. Some of the burning timbers dropped 
into the water, narrowly escaping a ferry-boat 



STRINGING THE LAST PAIR OF WIRES ACROSS ON A CAR- 
RIER BEARING THE STARS AND STRIPES. 

single barrel of drinking-water, which had al- 
ready been used to no avail. The fire-boat could 
n't beein to reach us, and fire-engines about the 




SEVERAL STRANDS WERE SQUEEZED TOGETHER TO FORM A CORE." (SEE PAGE 74O.) 



'9I3-] 



with mp;n who do things 



739 



base of the tower were helpless. Some of the 
firemen tried to drag the hose up the long stair- 
ways to the top of the tower, but when they 
finally did reach the top, and gave the signal for 
the water to be turned on, the hose burst, and all 
their labor went for naught. A second hose line 



That retreat was an exciting one. The fire 
had spread to the northern side of the tower, and 
as we ran down the stairway, blazing brands kept 
dropping on us. To add to our peril, there were 
several barrels of bolts at the top of the tower, 
and these were heated to redness in the fire, and, 




MR. BLANCHARD DID N'T STOP FOR ARGUMENT, BUT RAN ACROSS THE BRIDGE." 



was made of better stuff, but only a weak, sickly 
stream trickled out of the nozle, because the en- 
gines were scarcely powerful enough to pump 
water so high, even when a number of them were 
coupled up in tandem. A few of the firemen had 
hand-extinguishers with them, which held the 
blaze in check for several minutes; but that am- 
munition gave out soon, and it was evident that 
we would have to abandon everything and run. 



as the barrels and flooring burned away, they be- 
gan to drop down upon us. I did n't know at 
what moment a heavy bolt might strike me on the 
head and lay me out. A man in front of me had 
his clothing set afire by an incandescent bolt, 
which fell on the edge of his coat-pocket and 
hung there a moment. We were not half-way 
down the tower when there was a crash, and the 
north foot-bridge fell ; but we were so busy dodg- 



740 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



ing firebrands and bolts that we did n't even 
pause in our rush down the stairs. 

That fire was one of the oddest the New York 
fire-department ever had to tackle. They could 
really do nothing but let the fire burn itself out 
at its own sweet will. 

When we went around to see Mr. Blanchard a 
few days later, he, explained to us just what dam- 
age had been done to the main cables. It was 
evident that the cables had been heated red hot 
during the fire, because they were badly burned 
and flaked. A number of wires would evidently 
have to be cut out and replaced with new sections. 
Some of the less seriously injured wires were 
cut out and sent to have their strength tested. 
These tests were very favorable, and showed 
that the cables were not half so badly damaged 
as it was feared that they might be. 

Near the end of the summer, we visited the 
bridge again, so as to watch the cable-winding 
process after all the strands had been strung. 
First, several strands were squeezed together 
with crescent- jawed tongs, and fastened, at in- 
tervals, to form a core for the cable. Then the 
other strands were grouped about them and fas- 



tened temporarily. After this, the wire-winding 
machine was mounted on the cable. This was a 
large gear-wheel in two parts, bolted together 
about the cable. A traveler arranged to move 
along the cable carried a small electric motor 
that turned a pinion or small gear-wheel, fitting 
into the large gear, and in that way made the 
gear rotate around the cable. A spool of wire 
on the gear was carried around with it, winding 
the wire around the cable. A brake on the spool 
kept the wire under a constant tension. After 
the wire was wound, a steel sheathing made in 
half-sections was bolted about the cable. "Every 
so often" a collar was applied to the cable, and 
suspender cables were attached to them. To these 
suspenders, floor beams and girders were to be 
fastened, and on them the double deck of the 
bridge was to be built up. 

To-day, at any time, you can see a procession 
of trucks plodding over the bridge, with a string 
of hurrying trolleys and rushing elevated trains 
loaded to the limit of capacity with human 
freight, all supported by the combined strength 
of those thread-like wires that were spun by 
human spiders across the East River. 



( To be continued. ) 



THE ROSE THAT WENT TO THE CITY 



BY MARGARET EYTINGE 




One morning in the 
lovely month of June, a 
rose-bush in a large 
country garden was 
proudly holding up to 
the golden sunshine many 
beautiful pink roses. A 
tall boy who was going 
to work in the great city 
near by, stopped and 
picked one and put it in a buttonhole of his coat. 
"Good-by, sister," called the others, as he hurried 
away. And then they began to talk. "It is too 
bad," they said, "that our sister should be taken 
from her delightful garden home. We fear she 
will not live long. How we pity her !" 

At that moment, along came a pleasant young 
breeze. "You need not pity her," he said, as the 
roses gave him fragrant kisses of welcome. "She 
may not live as long as you do, but while she does 



live, she will bring happy thoughts to all those 
who see her. The boy who plucked her smiled as 
he did so, and thought, 'How sweet my mother 
used to look with a rose like this in her dark 
hair.' And all the poor children he will meet 
to-day will say in glad voices, 'Oh, the pretty, 
pretty flower !' and their pale faces will grow 
bright. And in the dark office where the boy 
works from morn till night, the fragrance of the 
rose will bring to the tired men who work there 
too, memories of the country homes and old- 
fashioned gardens of their boyhood. 

"So you see, my dear flower-friends, though 
the rose that went to the noisy, dusty city may 
not live as long as you who remain here in this 
beautiful garden, her life will be thrice blessed, 
because of the happy moments she will bring to 
those who need happy moments." And the roses 
nodded gracefully as the breeze once more flew 
lightly on its way. 



BOOKS AND READING 

BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE 



GOOD STORIES OF THE FOURTEENTH 
CENTURY 

There was so much fighting and sudden death in 
the fourteenth century, that one rather wonders 
any one came through it alive, and able to carry 
on the history of Europe. 

The Scotch wars began under the first Edward, 
of whom you read in the last article, — he that was 
called Longshanks. He was a great man, beloved 
by his people, — a golden-haired, wise king, thor- 
oughly English, a brave soldier, and a man of no- 
bility of character and high purposes. He con- 
quered Wales, and then started in to subdue the 
Scots, who were for having a king of their own, 
and were rather puzzled whom to choose among 
several claimants. Edward soon reduced the lords 
to submission, and Scotland seemed to be his, 
when Wallace, an outlaw knight, called the people 
to his standard, and defied the English king. A 
time of great struggle followed, Wallace proving 
a mighty captain and inspiring leader ; but at the 
battle of Falkirk, the Scots were routed with ter- 
rible loss; a few years later, Edward beheaded 
the great Scotchman, and Scotland fell under 
English rule. Another Scot, however, who had 
fought .with Wallace, Robert Bruce, managed to 
arouse the people once more, and, after years of 
fighting against the second Edward, he won the 
stirring battle of Bannockburn, making Scotland 
an independent kingdom and himself king. 

Nothing much more romantic than these Scotch 
wars has occurred in history, and in two books, 
both a little old-fashioned but none the less mighty 
good reading, you can follow the story of the two 
heroes. The first is Jane Porter's "The Scottish 
Chiefs," whose particular hero js Wallace, and 
the second, Grace Aguilar's "The Days of Bruce." 
There are countless adventures and excitements 
in these novels, and a tender sort of love story 
runs through them. They give excellent pictures 
of the times, a real "feel" of the Scotch enthusi- 
asm and devotion ; and though they are rather 
long, they repay the time spent on them. For a 
shorter account of the same two heroes you can 
go to Alice S. Hoffman's "Heroes and Heroines 
of English History" (Dutton), a delightful book 
full of breezy stories. 

Two books of a somewhat similar kind are 
Laurence Gomme's "Stories of English Kings," 
and of "English Queens" (Longman's), which 
are crammed with charming anecdotes and tales, 



from many sources, relating to the rulers of 
England. If you have these volumes you can turn 
to the particular king or queen you want to know 
about, and read the story of some romantic hap- 
pening in his or her life. 

Edward's son, Edward- II, had none of his fa- 
ther's virtues, and proved a bad king for England. 
He lasted twenty years, and was deposed by the 
barons, who had always hated him, and with 
whom he was constantly quarreling. He inherited 
the war with Bruce from his father, and the first 
half of his reign was mostly given up to it, and 
in "The Days of Bruce" you will see how he nar- 
rowly escaped falling into the hands of the vic- 
torious Scots. A book by Henty, "St. George for 
England," touches on the end of his reign— he 
was murdered in prison soon after being deposed 
— and takes you on into Edward Ill's days, when 
the Hundred Years' War began with France. It 
is n't much as literature, but the story is interest- 
ing and the historical picture true and accurate. 
The boy hero sees heaps of fighting, and meets all 
the important personages of the time. 

Edward III had a long reign, packed full of 
fighting, but the hero of his successful battles was 
his son, the famous Black Prince. There are a 
number of splendid stories about this English 
leader, who seemed to be invincible. W. O. Stod- 
dard has a stirring tale called "With the Black 
Prince" (Appleton), that no one ought to miss, 
and I have had a letter from one of my young 
readers, Edith Pierpont Stickney, of St. Paul, tell- 
ing me that another fine book is "Cressy and Poic- 
tiers," by J. G. Edgar, in Everyman's Library. 
This tale follows the adventures of a page of the 
prince all through the French campaign, in the 
two wonderful battles of the title, through the 
siege of Calais, and back to England, to the battle 
of Neville's Cross, where the prince repulsed and 
turned back a Scotch invasion. 

Another enjoyable book that is interested in this 
same Black Prince is Miss Yonge's "The Lances 
of Lynwood," in which the prince's adventures 
in Spain are told, and many there were. Unluck- 
ily, during the hardships of this long struggle that 
had neither definite result nor real success, the 
poor prince contracted an illness, and when he 
returned to his own country, he had not long to 
live. It was his little son, Richard II, who be- 
came king when Edward III died. 

Another story of the time of Edward III that 



742 



BOOKS AND READING 



l June. 



you will like, is to be found in Maurice Hewlett's 
"New Canterbury Tales." It is called "The 
Countess Alys," and is about the "at-home" Eng- 
land of that day, and not the adventuring prince, 
who, after all, was not the whole of England, 
though he lends himself so well to adventure 
stories that the writers like him for hero. 

Richard II was only a baby when he became 
king, so that his uncles undertook to do the rul- 
ing for him, and it was not until he was twenty- 
four years old that he finally asserted himself, 
really becoming England's ruler. But while he 
was still a child, the fierce revolt of the peasants 
broke out. There are several books that tell of 
these events, and of the Black Death that befell 
at the same time, or somewhat earlier. Henty 
has one of them, "The March on London" (Scrib- 
ner's), which is good, and there is a very excit- 
ing and picturesque story also specially written 
for young people, "Red Dickon the Outlaw," by 
Tom Bevan, which was published in 1905, and 
ought not to be hard to get. Dickon is a thrilling 
character, and the story manages to make the 
peasants' struggles and sufferings and courage 
very real to you. 

A very quaint and touching book that is set in 
the same period is by William Morris, called "A 
Dream of John Ball." John Ball was a peasant 
of those days who first began to say that all men 
are equal, and should stand alike before the law. 
He preached this, at that time, astonishing doc- 
trine all over England, and was the chief incite- 
ment to the revolt. In this story a working-man 
of modern England wakes up to find himself back 
in the age of Ball, and he has a series of adven- 
tures that take him to various parts of the king- 
dom. The book is short, and is admirably writ- 
ten, giving one unforgetable picture after an- 
other of the ways of living, the houses and inns, 
the people and their talk and their hopes. My 
copy is an old one, but I think it has been re- 
printed several times, and I 'm sure you can get 
it with a little trouble. Don't miss it, for, aside 
from its value in this historic series of ours, it 
is too lovely not to know. 

I suppose most of you have read Sir Arthur 
Conan Doyle's glorious story of "The White 
Company" that belongs to Richard's reign. It 
comes later on, when the peasants have been 
driven to submission again, and when the wars 
in France have once more become all-important. 
It is there that the White Company goes, and 
besides the English leaders, you meet the great 
Du Guesclin and others of the French captains. 
There is some wonderful fighting in this book, 
which is written with all that charm and vivid- 
ness Sir Arthur can put into his stories. You won't 



lay it down unfinished, if you can help it, and it 
will probably make you sigh for the "good old 
times," and wish you could put on armor and 
mount a charger and ride to gallant adventure- 
even if you happen to be a girl ! 

A book that shows quite another side of this 
same period of England's life is by Annie Nathan 
Meyer, "Robert Annys, Poor Priest" (MacMil- 
lan). This tells how the poor priest was sent 
out into the world to learn what men and women 
had to suffer there. It covers the years between 
1379-85, just about the same that saw the White 
Company set out, but it is a different adventure 
on which the priest goes. He sees many things, 
and when he returns to his monastery after his 
wanderings, his heart is full of loving-kindness 
for the troubles of mankind, and of wonder and 
admiration for the goodness and unselfishness he 
has found. 

One remarkable man in the reign of Richard 
II was Wyclif, and you will get a good account 
of him, though a short one, in Dean Hodges's 
delightful book, "Saints and Heroes up to the 
Middle Ages." Wyclif incarnates a lot of the 
spirit of the fourteenth century, and is one of 
the great men of all time. Another immortal of 
the latter half of the age was Chaucer, who gives 
in his many poems the sunnier and happier side 
of the life. Many of these poems have been 
turned into modern English for you young peo- 
ple, and you can't do better than get a few of his 
stories, for that is what they are, and see just 
how things seemed to a great writer of the very 
time itself. 

Then there is Shakspere's play, "The Life and 
Death of King Richard II," which those of you 
who are old enough to enjoy will find to be a 
touching presentment of this monarch. The play 
is set in the last years of the king's reign, and 
brings in the great figure of John of Gaunt, 
brother to the Black Prince, who had long strug- 
gled to get the royal power into his own hands, 
and had ruled the young Richard with an iron 
hand during his minority. But that is over now, 
though Richard will soon have new troubles on 
his head. For the poor king, both by his wise 
and his wrong acts, had alienated most of his 
people. Young Bolingbroke, soon to be Henry 
IV, is on his way to the crown. The play moves 
swiftly on to the catastrophe, and to the murder 
of the king in prison — the last of the Plantag- 
enets. The House of Lancaster now takes the 
throne, and our next group of historic stories 
will follow the fortunes of England under Henry 
IV and the gallant Henry V, as fine and brilliant 
a ruler as ever held scepter, though his time was 
short, for he died in the heyday of his youth. 



I9I3-] 



BOOKS AND READING 



743 



Now that we are so far into England's story, 
you will see that some really modern ideas have 
begun to arise. Under Edward I, the Parliament 
becomes the same in form that it is to-day, and 
grows more powerful and more representative 



same ideas of honor and justice that rule us are 
beginning to grow strong and show themselves, 
and in the people whom we meet in the stories of 
this century there are several with whom we 
should feel quite at home to-day. 




AN ATTACK ON A CASTLE IN THE DAYS OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 



year by year. The poor man is beginning to 
think that he, too, deserves a voice in the laws 
of his land, and the English language as we know 
it has evolved from the mixture of Norman 
French and old Saxon. We can read Chaucer, 
the first true English poet, with a little difficulty, 
to be sure, but with complete understanding. The 



I hope if any of you know of good books about 
the times still ahead of us, you will write to me 
about them. I found Edith Stickney's letter a 
great help, and want to thank her for the trouble 
she took. She mentioned several books we shall 
come to later, and the interest she takes in this 
series of articles is a real joy to me. 



A DOLLS' WEDDING 



(A Story for Middle-aged Little Folk) 



BY MARY AND MARJORY WOODS 



"Ridgeway" and "Woodlands" were the homes circus performances around the stable and lawn, 
of parents and grandparents of Mary and Marie, leaving the dolls on the steps. When we came 
aged nine and eleven. We don't object to tell- back, there were all those dolls on the dining- 
ing our ages. Marie's best doll is "Charlie Mac- room table, arranged in a great procession, with 
Briney," and her second best is "Harry Lauder." Jane and Charlie at the front, and walking down 

the middle of the table was a lovely wedding 
party of the perkiest paper dolls, all dressed in 
real tarlatan, lace, and feathers ! 

That was to make us think about weddings ; 
and when people began to talk about that, it made 
it very easy and natural to announce Jane's en- 
gagement to Charlie. Jane did n't blush a bit, 
because her cheeks were red already, and Charlie 
just smiled as usual. Then we were all ready 
for things to eat. 

The children stayed until six o'clock, and as 
they were leaving, up came Mr. Parson to take 
home Sydney Parson, and in his hand Mr. Par- 
son brought the evening paper. Now the funni- 
est thing happened in that paper ! Right on the 
front page there was a notice of Miss Jane 




MR. AND MRS. CHARLIE MAC BRINEY. 

My "Sunday best" is "Jane Ward." Our real 
Aunt Mertie was married with a big, big, fancy 
wedding, and that put things into our heads. M. 
being of an inventive turn (oh, dear, "M" stands 
for Me, and I 've let the cat out of the bag!) — 
well, I '11 just admit it, I am Mary; the other of 
us is Marie, and we are cousins. I invented the 
game, then, for Charlie to fall in love with Jane, 
and then we could play wedding. (Aunt Mertie 
was in love before she got married!) So Char- 
lie kept coming and coming to see Jane, and we 
were all more and more pleased with the idea of 
a wedding. But, of course, they had to get "en- 
gaged" first. 

Charlie's grandmother said Marie might have 
the announcement party at her house, so we in- 
vited a lot of kidlets to bring their dolls on March 
26 at two o'clock, and each child who came laid 
a doll on the big porch steps at Woodlands. Well, 
dear readers, that engagement party was a circus 
— really a circus, for we had chariot-races, and 




THE BRIDAL PARTY ON THE LAWN. 

Ward's engagement to Mr. Charlie MacBriney, 
and we don't know yet who put it in the "society 
news" ! Well, dear readers, two days later, her 



A DOLLS' WEDDING 



745 



first letter came from a big city, miles and miles 
away, to Miss Jane Ward, Blanktown, Virginia, 
and in it was an engraved circular from a swell 
engraver, offering to engrave her wedding-cards, 
announcements, and visiting-cards. And every 




READY FOR THE WEDDING MARCH. 

week for five weeks that engraver posted some 
such letter to Miss Jane Ward. We asked 
Mother not to stop the man's sending them — it 
was such fun for Jane to get letters with real 
stamps on them. But Mother had said we must 
do everything ourselves, so we wrote on our in- 
vitations : 

Mary Ward 

requests you to come to the wedding 

of her daughter 

Jane 

to get married to 

Mr. Charlie MacBriney 

June 18, at 3 o' clock 

at Ridgewav 



We invited fifty-two people, and fifty-six came, 
but lots more wanted to come ; and for days and 
days, sixty-seven exciting five- and ten-cent pres- 
ents kept coming. 

Marie has a French doll that says, when you 
pull a string, "Maman venez vite ! Maman venez 
vite!" When Marie was little, she asked her 
nurse to take that doll to the dentist and have her 
teeth fixed, so she could speak English. Well, 
that doll, "Elise," was bridesmaid, my "Gertie" 
doll was maid of honor, an old, old, sixty-year- 
old doll of my grandmother's was matron of 
honor, and Teddy-bears were ushers. Two other 
dolls were ribbon-bearers, with ribbons tied from 
the porch posts to their wrists. On the stroke of 
Vol. XL. — 94. 



three, the wedding party marched in to the wed- 
ding march from a music-box, the ribbon-bearers 
drawing their ribbons to form an aisle on the 
porch, from the door to a bank of flowers grow- 
ing in pots, and garlands of pink roses, which 
were afterward given each 
: guest. And there stood Ma- 
rie's Harry Lauder, in clergy- 
man's robe. Marie's mother 
made the robe, and she made 
Charlie MacBriney's dress 
j suit. His coat fitted beauti- 
fully, but the trousers were 
skin tight — tighter — for he 
could sit down in his skin 
but not in those trousers. But 
Charlie's knees were so wab- 
bly, he had to have sticks tied 
to his legs inside his clothes 
to make him stand up, but we 
managed to fix him so that he 
could turn and kiss his bride 
at the proper moment without 
toppling over. While the bride 
leaned on the groom's arm, 
the ceremony was performed by me, while 
Marie spoke for the bride and groom. Charlie 




STARTING ON THE WEDDINC 



said "Yes," in a very meek, weak little voice, but 
Jane said, "Yes, I do !" nice and loud, and with- 
out giggling ; and after Marie had helped Charlie 



746 



A DOLLS' WEDDING 



place a bead ring on Jane's finger, I pronounced 
them husband and wife, and Marie turned Char- 
lie round and made him kiss the bride nicely. 
Then their mothers (Marie and I, of course) 
kissed them, and turned, weeping, away, but 
when the grandmothers stooped down to con- 
gratulate and kiss them, my mother wept almost 
real tears, and Marie's mother nearly fainted, 
she was so overcome ; but she really need n't 
have felt so badly, for though they have a house 
of their own at Woodlands, Charlie still lives 
with his mother, and Jane mostly with me. 

Well, after the fun of everybody congratu- 
lating them was over, we took all the bridal party 
out on the lawn to be kodaked; then very soon 
it was time for ice-cream and strawberries under 
the apple-trees, the boys being made a standing 
committee to bring out chairs for the rest of us. 
Soon Jane had to go and change to her traveling 
dress, and throw her bouquet from the porch rail 
down to the crowd of children, all waiting to 
catch it. The bride's bouquet was of baby peo- 
nies with a shower of real mock-oranges and 



a sash for Jane or hair-ribbons for Jane's mother; 
but, best of all, just before the ceremony, a pastey 
diamond crescent was pinned among the laces 
on the bride's dress, and a diamond tiara to hold 




THE YOUNG COL'PI.E STARTING FOR AN 
AUTOMOBILE TRIP. 

white ribbon. The bridesmaids' bouquets were 
small pink roses with knots of pink ramblers tied 
on ends of pink ribbons — you cannot see in the 
pictures how lovely they were. While the bride 
was being dressed, people admired the presents. 
Most of them came from the largest and best- 
lighted store in town, a five- and ten-cent store ; 
there were lamps, wee doilies, centerpieces, fans, 
purses, beads, boxes of candy, a gold necklace, a 
watch, a parasol, pins enameled in orange-blos- 
soms, and the groom's grandmother, being a 
practical person, sent ribbons suitable for either 




THE BRIDEGROOM TAKES THE WHEEL. 

the orange-blossoms in her hair, both the gift of 
the groom. 

Then, at last, down came Jane in a lovely black- 
and-white silk going-away gown, straw hat, and 
veil, with a suitcase and umbrella in her hand. 
Somebody grabbed the suitcase and tied it with 
white ribbons, but there stood poor Charlie in his 
dress clothes and silk hat— in his excitement he 
had quite forgotten to bring from Woodlands 
another suit— so a«3'body would knoiv he was a 
groom ! 

Suddenly, along came two of the boys with a 
pony-cart with sleigh-bell harness and a lot of 
trailing tin cans tied behind, and a great placard 
—"Just Married !"— and, amid shouts of laughter 
and quarts of rice and rose petals, the bride and 
groom were seated for their wedding journey 
round and round the house. 

Three weeks later, the young couple were 
nicely settled in their own cottage at Woodlands, 
when something dreadful happened. 

The bride and groom were out in their auto- 
mobile, when an accident occurred, in which the 
bride broke her leg. After some weeks in bed, 
she is now improving wonderfully, and is able to 
sit up in a chair, though terribly unstrung. 

And so, dear readers, we thought we would 
write this true story of the wedding of 
Mr. and Mrs. Charlie MacBriney. 



FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK 



BYE-LOW LAND 



Q 



•ft/ 



Bt£ Lo 



4 




Comejittle girlies, and come, 

little boys, 
Come, little babies, their 
mothers' sweet joys, 
Come get aboard it, the ship 's 

on the strand, 
The ship that will take us to dear 

Bye-Low Land. 
There soft bunny rabbits sing 

lullabies low; 
There dollies are dancing, wherever 

you go ; _ 
There soldiers of wood stand by 
cradles on guard, 
While gay robin-redbreasts sing ever so hard; 
There fairies are making the loveliest dreams, 
While babies are feasting on chocolate 

creams. 
Dream castles of crystal, in rainbow 

light stand, 
Good Brownies live in them, in dear 
Bye-Low Land. 
So come, little treasure, and Mother will rock, 
While ticking so sleepily goes the old clock — 
"Tick, Tick," so drowsily. Each little head 
Soon will be nestled down in its white bed. 
Start off in Mother's arms, soon we will land 
In that wonderful, beautiful, dear Bye-Low Land 

Margaret G. Hays. 




rx 





N. 



$ 



f- 



or 



roUJl 



ATURE and pCIENCE ^}U 



l 5 



EDITED BV EDWARD F.BIGELOW 




THREE BIRDS WITH BILLS ESPECIALLY ADAPTED FOR PROCURING THEIR FOOD. 
The brown pelican, at the left, will swallow the fish it has caught, as soon as the surplus water is ejected from the pouch-like lower mandible 
of its bill. At the right, a white ibis is picking small water animals from the crevices in the stones along the shore. The two shoveler ducks, 
in the background, are " sifting " the muddy water for their food. 



INTERESTING ADAPTATION IN BIRDS' BILLS 

When we consider what apparently simple tools 
most birds' bills are, the work that some of them 
do is wonderful. Among them are drills, picks, 
shovels, hammers, chisels, prying instruments, 



r 




Xm 

^3» 1 Af .1 1/ 



A CROW HELPING HIMSELF TO THE FARMER S 
YOUNG CORN. 

spoons, spears, pincers, knives, needles, nut- 
crackers, strainers or sifters, and probably others. 
Some of these different uses are here illus- 
trated. In the heading, at the left, a brown peli- 



can has "scooped" up a fish which he will swal- 
low head first. Sometimes he throws his victim 
high in the air, and has his great throat ready to 
receive it as it falls; or he may engulf a number 
of small fish and strand them all by discharging 
the water from his "game bag." 

In the same picture, at the right, is shown a 
white ibis from Florida, where the brown pelican 
also lives. The long, slender bill is beautifully 
grooved along its inner part, and makes a pair 
of forceps with which the bird skilfully picks 
small aquatic animals from the rock crevices. 

Back of the ibis are two shoveler ducks. Their 
bills widen at the ends, so that they may be used 
as shovels to dig up the mud in which are found 
various small aquatic animals. The sides of these 
bills are lined with a row of stiff, upright hairs, 
which help to retain the food as the mud and 
water flow through them. 

The crow is a good example of a bird with a 
bill fitted for various purposes. It cannot only 
remove recently planted corn and crack acorns, 
but can pick up a meal of birds' eggs. Such a bill 
is also well fitted to carry the stout sticks used 
to build the nest. 

One might imagine that such a well-armored 
creature as the oyster is securely protected from 
so dainty a creature as a bird, but such is not 



74 8 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



749 



the case. The oyster-catcher darts his flat-sided 
bill between the open shells before the oyster 
realizes what is happening, and if the oyster 
closes on the intruder, the shells are dexterously 
pried open. The bird is about the size and shape 
of a homing pigeon. It also uses the chisel-like 
bill to pry shell-fish from the rocks, and to probe 
the sand for other kinds of food. 

The peculiar bill of the crook-billed plover is 
about as odd as anything of the kind can be, 
since it turns to one side. It would be interesting 
and of scientific value to know the cause of this 
unsymmetrical structure, which is said to be the 
result of the bird's custom of going around 
stones in the same direction, in search of food. 



as the powerful bird "skims" over its feeding- 
ground. 

The bills of the owls are hooked, and sharp 





the <5yster-catci-iek's method of getting a meal. 

The black skimmer presents another queer bill, 
in which the lower mandible extends beyond the 
upper, and cuts along the surface of the water 



the crook-billed plover. 

along the edges, and are thus fitted for tearing 
small animals. I once saw a man point his finger 
in the face of a great horned owl, because, he 
said, owls cannot see in the daytime. In an in- 
stant, the razor-edged bill had that finger in its 
grasp, and by a rapid twist cut it to the bone. 
That man does not nowadays point his fingers at 
owls at close range. 

The large family of vultures, eagles, and 
hawks are provided with bills fitted for tearing 
flesh, and some are so sharp and powerful that 
they can cut holes in an English riding-saddle of 
pigskin ! 

The heron family have long, sharp bills which 
some of them, when attacked, use as bayonets. 




the black skimmer, barn-owl, and woodcock. 

The lower mandible of the black skimmer's bill enables it, as its name implies, to literally skim its food from the surface of the water. The 
sharp-edged, hooked bill of the barn-owl is especially adapted for tearing the flesh of the small mammals upon which it feeds. The woodcock, 
with its very different bill, probes the soft ground for worms. 



750 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



[June, 



There is a vast family of birds with small, 
curved, or straight bills, such as the snipe, cur- 
lew, avoset, and woodcock. The last-named uses 
the bill to probe the soft earth for worms. The 




A BILL WITH A BIRD. 
The toucan's bill is not so heavy as it looks, and serves the purpose 
of a pair of pruning-shears. 

upper mandible is capable of being slightly bent 
up toward the end, while remaining closed near 
the head. 

The grotesque beak of the toucan appears to be 
a burden, but as its interior is extensively honey- 
combed, it is not so heavy as might be imagined. 
It has a saw-like edge, and is used to clip off 
small fruits from the tree, in the manner of a 
pair of pruning-shears.— Harry B. Bradford. 

THE BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY-FISH 




live for the most part among coral heads or 
about coral reefs, among which they find food 
and shelter. 

Their food consists of small animals, such 
as crustaceans, which they seize in the water or 
bite from the coral. They are of retiring dispo- 
sition, and, when alarmed, dart into crevices in 
the coral. Several species are found on our 
Atlantic coast, but in northern waters they oc- 
cur only as stragglers. The northern limit of 
distribution seems to be Cape Cod, where, at 
times, many have been found, having apparently 
drifted up from the West Indies in the Gulf 
Stream, hiding under sargasso weed, and then 
been blown ashore. 

A MUSEUM OF WINDMILLS 
The remarkable collection of windmills shown 
in the photograph is almost entirely the work of 
Mr. L. T. Howes, of Stamford, Connecticut, at 




THE BUTTERFLY-FISH. 

The butterfly-fish, or chaetodonts, are of small 
size, wide distribution, bright coloration, and 



Photograph by Messrs. Brown & Dawson, of Stamford, Connecticut. 
A MUSEUM OF WINDMILLS. 

which place they may be seen. Only two have 
been bought, and these are the least interesting 
of the collection. The mills are attached to a 
pole in their owner's yard, and naturally attract 
much attention. The variety of form is specially 
worth noting and merits careful examination. 



I9I3-] 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



751 



HOW TO MAKE A CAMP-FIRE PHOTOGRAPH 

As you may suppose, this is a flash-light picture, 
but, instead of setting off the flash-light behind 
the camera, as the books always tell us to do, 
the flash is put in the fire itself. 

First build up a nice, big fire, then let it die 
down and leave a bed of glowing coals. Then 
pose your group. Arrange several standing fig- 
ures close together between your camera and the 
fire. This is to keep the bright glare of the flash 
from halating your plate. Wrap a small quan- 
tity of flash powder, or about two flash sheets if 
you use them, in a piece of paper. Give this to 
one of the boys sitting nearest the fire, and in- 
struct him to toss it into the bed of hot coals 
when you give the word. Caution everybody to 
sit still till the flash is over, open your lens, give 
the boy the word, and, as soon as the flash goes 
off, close the lens. If all goes well and the lens 
was open at the proper moment, you will have a 
fine firelight effect. Of one thing you must be 
particularly careful : be sure to interpose some 
object between the fire and the camera, such as a 
group of standing figures, as I have suggested, 
or a rock, or the trunk of a tree, otherwise the 
intense glare of the flash will completely spoil the 
effect. Our picture shows a party of city boys 
in a vacation camp.— Albert K. Dawson. 



A FAWN TEN DAYS OLD 

This little fawn was only ten days old when the 
camera caught him. Born in captivity, he never 
had the freedom enjoyed by his wild kindred, 




THE VERY YOUNG FAWN. 



and was never exposed to their dangers, but lived 
apparently contented in the acre of orchard which 
was his home. — E. P. Chalcraft. 




A. CAMP-FIRE FLASH-LIGHT PHOTOGRAPH. 



752 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



[June, 



SCHOOL OF TRAINED TROUT 

One of the attractions at Port Townsend, Wash- 
ington, is a school of trained trout. Five years 
ago, these trout were placed in the basin of a pub- 
lic drinking-fountain by Charles W. Lange, when 




Photograph by courtesy oi P. M. Richardson. 
A LARGE TROUT JUMPING THROUGH A HOOP. 

they were but one inch in length. Now they are 
eighteen inches long, and weigh four and a half 
pounds each. Each day at noon, Mr. Lange feeds 
them with bits of meat, and at such times they 
perform many antics, leaping completely out of 
the water for food, and even jumping through a 
hoop. They seem to look upon Mr. Lange as 
their natural protector, and will not perform for 
any one but him. 

James G. McCurdy. 

A WHITE RACOON 

Mr. Raymond L. Ditmars, of the New York 
Zoological Park, kindly sends us a photograph of 




Photograph trom the New ¥ork Zoological Society. 
THE WHITE RACOON. 

a white racoon, regarding which he tells us the 
following : 

"The animal has been here about three years, 
and belongs to some people who are traveling 



through Australia and Tasmania. We called him 
"Pinky' on account of his brilliant pink eyes. He 
is perfectly tame, and, although the people who 
owned him were away for two years, when, on 
their return, they dropped in to see him at the 
small mammal house, he remembered them and 
exhibited real pleasure. He is fed upon boiled 
meat, potatoes, and bread." 

Probably there is no other wild, four-footed 
animal that becomes so tame as a racoon. It 
seems to manifest a real affection for its care- 
taker, and has many other interesting traits. 

THE BURL AND ITS USES 

One of the most interesting natural deformities 
is the so-called burl, a growth found on the wal- 
nut and other trees, among them the redwood 
trees of northern California. It is said to be the 
result of disease, and makes an ungainly lump on 
the tree. The largest that has ever been found 




TRAYS, PLATES, BOWLS, AND SOUVENIRS 
MADE FROM BURLS. 

grew around the base of the tree, and measured 
twenty-five feet in circumference and eighteen 
feet in height. It was hollow, the walls being 
from two to six feet thick. The tree itself was 
only about six feet in diameter. A burl of this 
size is of rare occurrence. Only one tree in 
every four or five hundred in the forest is thus 
affected, and only about one burl in every thirty- 
five is perfect, these perfect forms being beauti- 
fully marked with darker veins and spots, in cir- 
cular patterns, reminding one somewhat of the 
curly birch or maple. 

The wood is susceptible of a high polish, and 
is made into table tops, picture-frames, bowls, 
plates, napkin-rings, vases, and other objects. 

There is in Eureka, Humboldt County, Cali- 
fornia, a unique house made for the sale of 
these burl articles. It consists of the stump and 
log of a giant Sequoia. The log, at the end of 
which one enters, is forty feet long and sixteen 
feet in diameter, while the stump standing be- 
side it is twenty feet in diameter. 

From the log-room one enters the workroom 
of the establishment, while the big, circular 
stump-room contains the finished articles for sale. 
Harriet Williams Myers. 



KH3-] 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



753 




A "HOUSE" of the stump and log of a giant sequoia tree. 




THE EXHIBITION ROOM OF THE STUMP-AND-LOG HOUSE. 



Vol. XL.— 95. 



754 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



[June, 



=asai 



^"BECAUSE- WE 
[WANT TO KNOW" 




what causes waves or ripples 

Lafayette, La. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Will you please tell me what makes 
the waves or ripples when you throw a stone in the water? 
Yours sincerely, 

Beverly R. Stephens, Jr. (age 9). 

The stone puts the water in motion where it 
strikes, and then this motion puts the surrounding 
water in motion, making waves which travel in 
all directions at practically the same speed, thus 
producing circles. The first wave formed causes 
others, so that there is a succession of ripples.— 
H. L. W. 

lifting a person on .one's fingers 

Wellesley, Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I would like to ask you this ques- 
tion : The other day four of my friends and I thought we 
would do a sort of trick we had heard of. I lay on the floor, 
and the others (two on each side of me) took three long 
breaths, holding the third one; then the two on each side 
of my shoulders put their forefingers under my arms, and the 
other two put theirs under my knees, and lifted me up till 
their arms were stretched as far as they would go, and held 
me there on the tips of their fingers. I wanted very much 
to know how it was possible, and as nobody could tell me, I 
thought I would ask you. 

Your loving reader, 

Francis G. Ahlers. 

( 1 ) The fingers are by no means so weak as 
they look. If you clasp your hands, with fingers 
interlaced and thumbs crossed, and then extend 
the forefingers, and press them firmly together 
over their whole length, the triangle whose legs 
are the forefingers and whose base is made up of 
the crossed thumbs affords a very powerful lev- 
erage. 

(2) The taking of the three breaths insures 
that all four of the lifting boys exert their power 
at precisely the same moment. This fact is very 
important. In experiments that were kindly made 
for me by some of the younger members of my 
department in Cornell University, we tried two 
plans. First, the four men stood up, breathed out 
as they swung down, breathed in as they swung 
up again, and so on ; and then, at the end of the 
third swing down — that is, at the very beginning 
of the third inbreathing, thrust their fingers un- 
der the man to be lifted and raised him. Sec- 
ondly, the four men stooped down, with their fin- 
gers in position, and breathed as they pleased; 
presently I called out, "Now!" and they lifted. 
We found no difference in the ease of lifting; in 



both kinds of experiment a man of over two 
hundred pounds went up to the height of the 
shoulders. It is clear then, that the important 
thing is to apply the power at just the same mo- 
ment all round. 

(3) I noticed, further, that in both kinds of 
experiment the four men held their breath when 
they began to lift, just as the shot-putter and 
hammer-thrower hold their breath before the final 
effort. It is plain that, if you fill the lungs with 
air and hold them filled, you brace the walls of 
the chest; and this means that, when you lift, you 
have a strong support to fall back on. 

(4) It is very likely that the taking of the two 
deep breaths really makes you stronger, for the 
time, than you are if you breathe in the ordinary 
way ; though our experiments seem to show that 
this increase of strength is neither large, nor nec- 
essary for the success of the performance. 

I have myself, as a boy, taken part in this 
"trick" actively and passively many scores of 
times ; and I have never known any accident to 
happen. Nevertheless, I should advise you, if 
you try it again, to lay down a mattress; there 
is alzvays the chance that the boy lifted gets a fall. 

— E. B. TlTCHENER. 

a remarkable line of swans 

Stamford, Conn. 
Dear St. Nicholas: On the shore of a small lake, I 
saw many swans standing on a sand-bar, taking their sun- 
bath. In midsummer, the swans come there every day, 




A remarkably uniform, unique position. 

and often go to sleep for an hour or more. I inclose a 
photograph showing five swans with nearly all the heads 
pointing in the same direction. 

Yours truly, 

William P. McLaren. 

It is a curious chance that enabled you to take 
the photograph when five of the swans had their 
long necks looped in almost exactly the same 
position. They seem to be preening their feath- 
ers. 



I9I3-] 



NATURE AND SCIENCE FOR YOUNG FOLKS 



755 



jack and spot 

Menlo, Ia. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Jack was given to me, when he was 
little, by a neighbor boy. His mother was a rat terrier. 
He played with Spot, the cat. She did n't like this, and 
used to get up on an old chair. This bothered him, and he 
would bark at her, and when he got too noisy, she would 
slap or bite him. 

Spot was very good to catch rats. When we got another 




"WHEN JACK GOT TOO NOISY, SPOT WOULD SLAP HIM." 

cat, Jack tried to play with her, but she would whip him ; 
but he got even with her when he grew up. 

About a year ago, I lost my watch. It was under the 
snow several months. One day in the spring I was walk- 
ing with Jack on the road. When I got to the bridge, I 
stood on it and looked at the water, and Jack went under 
the bridge. He soon came back and laid something at my 
feet. I looked to see what it was, and it was my watch. 
We still have Jack, and he is about a year and a half old. 

Edwin C. Barrett. 

HOW LONG A DREAM LASTS 

Johnstown, Penn. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you kindly tell me just how 
long a dream lasts ? I have heard that they last for only 
ten seconds. 

Your loving reader, 

Catharine Weaver. 

I do not think that a positive answer can be 
given to your question. In the first place, there 
is no fixed or set length of time for a dream to 
last, just as there is no fixed time for a train of 
thought or a fit of anger. And in the second 
place, it is very difficult to find out the precise 
moment at which a dream begins. Experiments 
show, however, that a fairly elaborate dream 
may occur in twenty-five seconds, and that a very 
elaborate "morning" dream— the kind of dream 



that you remember on waking, and tell at the 
breakfast-table — may be crowded into a time of 
two minutes. How much longer a single, con- 
nected dream may last, I do not know. 

The flow of ideas in dreaming is not quicker, 
but, if anything, rather slower than it is in the 
waking life. But the arrangement of the ideas 
is so different that a short dream may seem to 
us, as we recall it, to have occupied a long time. 
— Professor E. B. Titchener, Psychological 
Laboratory of Cornell University, Ithaca, New 
York. 

BOYS AND BEES 

BlNGHAMTON, N. Y. 

Dear St. Nicholas : It is amusing to see a honey-bee 
come in loaded, and run around in the hive with the other 
bees chasing her. She will stop for a second to give them 
a taste, then on she runs with the rest after her. When 
she gets them all stirred up, she goes to a cell and un- 
loads, then out after another supply, some of the bees fol- 
lowing her, others having left before she did, and imme- 
diately after they got a taste. 

We saw two queens hatch nearly at the same time. 
They acted like two boys who wanted to fight, but were 
afraid. They ran around the hive toward each other, then 
away, back and forth, almost together, then away again, 
until, at last, they rushed at each other and clinched, and 
then something was doing. When they parted, one went 




examining bees on the "frames from the hives. 

away, and the other soon dropped to the bottom and died. 
Father told us that the books all say that a queen always 
stings her rival, but here it certainly looked as though one 
queen bit the other ! 

Your little friends, 

Samuel and Clarence Phelps. 



To N I C 



IL A 



IL 



A G 




"A HEADING FOR JUNE." BY SCHOF1KLD HANDFORTH, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.) 



Just as these pages are going to press, the League has the 
good fortune to receive a free-will offering of appreciation 
from a grown-up friend — in this cordial letter: 

Los Angeles, Cal. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I consider the collection of poems 
in your February League pages quite remarkable. I don't 
think the muse is likely to die within this century, as is so 
often gloomily predicted nowadays, when our young peo- 
ple can write like that. 

Lucile Fitch's "Call of the Wild" is really a powerful 
thing for any age — and she 16 ! Flora Cockrell's (age 
12 ! !) is a beautiful little thing! B. Cresswell has caught 
quite a Kipling swing. But the one that really charmed 
me most was the " Lumberman's Song," and I had a fancy 
to write and tell the young poet so, and wish him well. 

I enjoy St. Nicholas yet, and shall take pains hereafter 
to keep track of what the Leaguers are doing. 
A Lover of Poetry and Young Folks (Bless 'em !). 



"'Bless 'em,' indeed!" is the echoing tribute that 
every grown-up will accord who knows the wonderful 
work of our young poets. Our hearty thanks are due to 
the friend of the League who sent us these glowing words 
of cheer and commendation. But the February poems, fine 
as they were, are hardly an exception to the rule. And in 
the present issue, our readers will find several charming 
little lyrics that fairly sing themselves into the memory. 

Hardly less remarkable, moreover, are the offerings of 
the young prose-writers, artists, and camera lovers. They 
are so constantly winning the gratitude and blessing of 
St. Nicholas that the editor's appreciation must seem 
like an oft-told tale. All the more gratifying, therefore, 
is this friendly letter that has traveled all across the con- 
tinent to bring to our League girls and boys its hearty 
" Well-done " and " God-speed ! " 



PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 160 

PROSE. Gold badges, Helene Mathilde Roesch (age 1 1), Philadelphia, Pa.; Harriet D. Price (age n) # , New York City. 
Silver badges, Ethel Warren Kidder (age 15), Assonet, Mass. ; Martha C. Tucker (age 15), Colorado Springs, 
Col.; Richard K. Noye, 3d (age 12), Buffalo, N. Y. ; Margaret Finck (age 15), New York City. 
VERSE. Gold badges, Ruth G. Merritt (age 15), Riverside, 111. ; Doris Rosalind Wilder (age 12), Denver, Col. 
Silver badges, Louise Redfield (age 12), Chicago, 111. ; Dorothy McFarland (age 14), Nelson, B. C. ; Eleanor 
Hinman (age 13), Lincoln, Neb. ; Anita L. Grannis (age 12), La Grangeville, N. Y. 

DRAWINGS. Silver badges, Schofield Handforth (age 15), Tacoma, Wash. ; James Thomas (age 16), Hull, Eng- 
land; Marinella Colonna (age 16), Naples, Italy; Wilhelmina R. Babcock (age 17),. Providence, R. I.; W. G. 
Stewart (age 13), Edinburgh, Scotland. 

PHOTOGRAPHS. Gold badge, Esther Harrington (age 13), Orange, Mass. 

Silver badges, Harold R. Waiters (age 14), Bethlehem, Pa.; Arthur Ochtman (age 17), Cos Cob, Conn.; Rae L. 
Oppenheimer (age 12), San Antonio, Tex. ; Russel A. Reed (age 12), Middletown, Conn. ; Katherine Lemoine Guy 
(age 17), St. Louis, Mo. 

WILD CREATURE PHOTOGRAPHY. Class "C" prize, Frank W. Wheelock (age 11), Lookout Mountain, Tenn- 
Class " D" prizes, Louise Fundenberg (age 17), Pasadena, Cal. ; Alice Noonan (age 14), Minneapolis, Minn. ; Sher- 
man Pratt (age 12), Brooklyn, N. Y. ; Richard P. Dyckman (age 13), Orange, N. J. 

PUZZLE-MAKING. Silver badges, P. Ernest Isbell (age 14), New Haven, Conn. ; Malcolm D. Warner (age n), 
New York City. 
PUZZLE ANSWERS. Gold badge, Claire A. Hepner (age 12), Helena, Mont. 



756 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



757 



THE TOILER'S REWARD 

BY RUTH G. MERRITT (AGE 15) 

Gold Badge. (Silver Badge won April, 1913) 
Belinda Angelina sat 

Without a task in view"; 
And Satan (so the proverb says) 

Finds work for such to do. 

Be that as may, a wond'rous thought 

Woke in her fertile brain ; 
And by the proud gleam in her eye, 

That it was good, was plain. 

She lightly slipped from off her stool, 

And to the bookcase crept ; 
She just could reach the shelf where all 

The choicest books were kept. 

In each rare book she slowly drew 

A purple horse and calf, 
An elephant, a kangaroo, 

To make her daddy laugh. 

And so all morning long she toiled, 

Her fingers ached full sore ; 
But still she drew, for Daddy's sake, 

In many volumes more. 

Then Daddy came ! A crosser man 

I think I ne'er have seen ; 
And her reward — but let us draw 

Round that a kindly screen ! 

WHEN SCHOOL-DAYS ARE OVER 

BY ETHEL WARREN KIDDER (AGE 1 5) 

(Silver Badge) 
I am not thinking of the time when I shall put aside 
school-books forever, and go out and learn of the world, 
but of the summer vacation. That is sweeter because 
you know how short it is. You have left the city, noisy, 
hot, dirty, and after an even hotter, noisier, dirtier ride, 
you have come to the country. The train puffs away down 




BREAKFAST. 



BY HAROLD R. WALTERS, AGE 14 
(SILVER BADGE ) 



the curving track, leaving the quiet that only a world of 
birds and crickets possesses. The grown-ups are going 
to ride with the luggage, but you are to walk. 

Therefore you squeeze between the rails of the fence 
a few steps down the road, and, leaving the gravelly 
path for the meadow-grass, you disappear into a little 
hollow. Farther on, and sight of men, and all but 
sound of them, is lost, as you enter the opening between 
the birch-trees. It is cool and shadowy there, and you 
stand for a moment, your heart so full of happiness that 



you would sing if that did not seem too great a sacri- 
lege. Only the sound of the little brook that crosses 
your path and dives into the tangled shadow again, and 
the low chirp of the catbird hopping from branch to 
branch behind a climbing wild grape-vine, are met in 
this woodland chapel. 

You wander on along the path, through fence gaps 
and over stone walls, and come in sight of the gray 
barn roofs and the locust-trees against a sky of softest 
pinks. There is the old orchard, the oak corner, the 
wild cherry-tree, all reminders of secrets they and you 
alone know, and then you are home with all the dear 
summer before you. 




BREAKFAST. BY ESTHER HARRINGTON, AGE 13. GOLD BADGE. 

(SILVER BADGE WON OCT., 1912.) 

WHEN SCHOOL-DAYS ARE OVER 

BY MARTHA C. TUCKER (AGE 15) 

(Silver Badge) 
"Eliza — " 

"Mary-Anne ! I thought you were n't going to talk till 
you 'd finished shelling them peas," Eliza said severely. 

"Oh, but this is very important. I really ackshooly 
believe I '11 expire if I wait any longer, Eliza. A ques- 
tion has been gnawing at my innermost vitals two days. 
Are people's school-days ever over?" 

"Mine are." 

"Oh, I don't mean just five-days-in-the-week school- 
days. I mean — life's. But it 's no use asking you — 
you 're such a discouragingly unimaginative creature.- — ■ 
Oh, Eliza, would n't it be wonderful if I knew every- 
thing in the world?" Mary-Anne questioned eagerly, up- 
lifting her pale little face, which would have been plain 
but for her wonderful dark eyes, which now took on a 
strange, far-away look. "Then I 'd know what people 
inhabit all the planets of the universe," she continued, 
clasping her arms about her knees. "And I 'd know 
why my hair is n't like spun gold, instead of smutty- 
sooty black. Also, I 'd know better than to try to get 
my freckles off with a scouring-brick, next time. And 
— oh, Eliza ! I 'd know if I really ackshooly did belong 
to this horrible orphan-asylum, or was really the daugh- 
ter of a duke. It 's possible, Eliza. P'r'aps he 's 
searching for his lost daughter, the wide world over, 
this minute. — Eliza, would it be very hard for you to 
call me Lady Viola-Claire Vere de Vere? If my 
father is n't a duke, I 'd like to imagine I had a royal 
name, anyway. Could you?" she pleaded, dropping 
upon her knees and tragically clasping her thin hands. 

"Mary-Anne McCarthy ! Look, you 've spilled them 
peas all over the floor!" 

"Oh, I forgot they were in my lap ! My life is a 
series of trials and tribulations. Life's school is a hard 
one. My school-days won't be over till I 'm dead, 
Eliza." 



758 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



[June, 




A HEADING FOR JUNE." BY AGNES I. I'RIZER, AGE 16. 




WHEN SCHOOL-DAYS ARE OVER 

BY FRANCES M. SWEET (AGE io) 

Aftek school is over, I go with my father and mother 
to a little lake, about sixteen miles from our home. 

A few years ago, 
when I was spending a 
couple of weeks there, 
a rather interesting 
thing happened. So I 
think I will tell you 
about it now. 

.My father and I 
were rowing down the 
lake toward a cove 
where there was good 
fishing, when we saw a 
little furry object play- 
ing around on the 
beach. 

We rowed close to 
shore, and my father, 
taking the landing net 
from the boat, sprang 
out and caught it. The 
little ball of fur was 
the dearest baby racoon 
you ever saw I should 
have liked to keep it 
and tame it, but my father put it back on the shore, 
where the old mother racoon could find it. 

A SONG OF JUNE 

BY LOUISE REDFIELD (AGE 12) 

(Silver Badge) 
Ovek in the meadow, there 's a bobolink's nest, 

Covered by the grasses, I know where ; 
I was picking daisy blossoms to make a daisy chain. 

When, looking down, I saw it hidden there. 

Deep in the forest, there 's a great hollow oak, 
And a red squirrel's home is in that tree ; 

I was passing by this morning, when I heard a scolding 
sound, 
And there he sat, a-chattering at me ! 

Down by the pond, there 's such a big, green frog, 
I played there to-day, and watched him dive ; 

Oh, the world is full of wonders in the still, warm days 
of June, 
And it makes me happy just to be alive ! 



WILLING MODEL. BY JAMES 

THOMAS, AGE 16. 
(SILVER BADGE ) 



WHEN SCHOOL-DAYS ARE OVER 

BY RICHARD K. NOYE, 3d (AGE 1 2) 

(Silver Badge) 

When school-days are over and after having moved to 
the country, it is a joy to be free, to wake up early on 
a bright morning and hear the soft summer zephyr 
rustling the leaves of the giant oak which stands in 
front of the little weather-beaten cottage. A row on 
the river before breakfast, and then afterward a stroll 
up the wooded hillside, gathering flowers by the way. 
At the top, a forest path is seen winding its way west- 
ward. As one walks along this path, squirrels are seen 
to stop in their incessant chattering to watch with their 
little bead-like eyes upon the intruders of their domains, 
and then to scold and throw taunts after them. 

Where the trees are thickest, molly cottontail is seen 
running with great rapidity through the underbrush 
with a little one at her heels. Now we are Hearing the 
end of the greenwood, and, as the trees thin rapidly, a 
well is seen in the distance. Upon looking over the 
edge there is seen at the bottom a quantity of clear 
spring-water. A pail is lowered, and as the water 

passes between 
the lips, it 
gives a feeling 
of deep regret 
that one can- 
not linger for- 
ever in this 
place. 

After de- 
scending the 
hill, a pasture 
is seen with 
here and there 
a bossy calf 
upon it. Thus 
we wend our 
way home- 

ward through 
the grazing- 
grounds, with 
the calves fol- 
lowing at a re- 
spectful distance. After the noonday meal, one climbs 
to his favorite crotch in the old cherry-tree and eats to 
his heart's content. Later a swim, and then games and 
romps on the lawn. Afterward, supper, and then, tired 
with the varied pleasures we have had, off to bed. 
So ends a day, and many more will follow in the same 
way, until school begins again. 




A HEADING FOR JUNE. BY MARGARET 

L. AVER, AGE 17. 



I9I.1-] 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE' 



759 





BY ARTHUR OCHTMAN, AGE 17. (SILVER I1ADGE.) 



BY MARGARET GRIFFITH, AGE 15. 




BY RUSSEL A. REED, AGE 12. (SILVER BADGE.) BY ELIZABETH T. E. BROOKS, AGE 9. 



BY CATHERINE HEDRISH, AGE 13 





BY KATHEKINE L. GUY, AGE 17. (SILVER BADGE.) BY HOWARD SHERMAN, AGE 12. (HONOR MEMBER.) 

" BREAKFAST." 



760 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



[June, 




BUFFALOES. BY FRED SPIEGELBERG, JR., AGE 14. (HONOR MEMBER.) 



OPOSSUM. BY FRANK W. WHEELOCK, AGE II, 
(PRIZE, CLASS C.) 




SEA-GULLS. BY LOUISE FUNDENBERG, AGE 17. (PRIZE, CLASS D.) 






NIGHT-HERON. BY RICHARD P. DYCKMAN, 
AGE 13. (PRIZE, CLASS D.) 




MOOSE. BY SHERMAN PRATT, AGE 12. (PRIZE, CLASS D.) JACK-RABBIT. BY ALICE NOONAN, AGE 14. (PRIZE, CLASS D.) 

WILD CREATURE PHOTOGRAPHY. 



I9I3-] 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



761 



A SONG OF JUNE 

BY DORIS ROSALIND WILDER (AGE 1 2) 

Gold Badge. (Silver Badge won March, 1911) 
Oh give me health and freedom 

When dawn's rosy light appears, 
And the ruddy sun is beaming 

On the roses' dewy tears ; 
For 't is the Blossom Season, 

The Ripe Strawberry Moon, 
The month of rhymes and roses, 

Smiling, sunny June ! 

Oh give me shade and water 

When the glare of noon is bright, 
And the buttercups are shining 

With the sunbeam's mellow light ; 
For 't is the Blossom Season, 

The Ripe Strawberry Moon, 
The month of fruit and flowers, 

Balmy, winsome June ! 

Oh give me rest and quiet 

When the shades of night descend, 
And the shim'ring moon is shining 

O'er the dusky river's bend ; 
For 't is the Blossom Season, 

The Ripe Strawberry Moon, 
The month of dreams and lovers, 

Drowsy, mystic June ! 

WHEN SCHOOL-DAYS ARE OVER 

BY HELENE MATHILDE ROESCH (AGE II) 

Gold Badge. (Silver Badge won September, 1011) 
Looking back through the long vista of time, we see 
many things that bring tears to our eyes or smiles to 
our lips, and, among the latter, is our graduation day. 
With trembling hands we receive the diploma and turn 
away, tears of joy in our eyes. And our mother meets 
us at the door. Dear heart ! she loves us well, and does 
not wish one minute, one second, of our life clouded 
with sorrow, nor one period of time in which we begin 
to know pain and tears. 

Too soon the sand in the hour-glass begins to dwin- 
dle, too soon the grains slip away, and with them our 
youth, our joys, our life. Do we not regret that our 
school-days are over? No, for work and duties made 
their pleasures shorter and their cares heavier. 

Youth was well ; that period of our life devoted to 
school was the best — innocent childhood, girlhood, 
maidenhood. But in after years comes womanhood and 
motherhood, perhaps the sweetest part in our lives. 
And so it is balanced equally, part of youth absorbed in 
work, and the graver part of our lives tinged with the 
rosy tint of new pleasures and new joys. God has made 
life equal — all things are for the best. Some sorrows, 
some pain, some tears, and many joys — life is long 
enough to experience all. School-days may be happy 
at times, but our hearts give a bound when we are re- 
leased ; a pleasure which no one but a graduate knows. 

WHEN SCHOOL-DAYS ARE OVER 

(A dream) 

BY HARRIET D. PRICE (AGE II) 

Gold Badge. (Silver Badge won September, 1911) 
School is over. I am playing on a beach under a 
bright blue sky. Before me stretches the great ocean, 
which seems to fade away into space. Behind me lie 
processions of mountains. Little sandpipers are hop- 
Vol. XL. -96. 



ping along the beach, and sea-gulls fly far above me. 
Now and then, a boat floats by, its white sails looking 
like a fleecy cloud against a turquoise sky. 

Suddenly, I find myself among the mountains (which 
are no more far away), fishing in one of the many 
streams which seem to be deftly woven among trees 
and bushes, the foliage of which gleams and glitters in 
the sun. Perched on the trees are many birds, giving 
out their joyous song to make the world more bright and 
happy. The brook in which I am fishing is so clear, 
and the little fish that swim by look so very innocent, 
that I draw up my line and throw it away, resolving not 
to take the life of a harmless little thing. Then, as I 
walk back to the camp over mossy paths, I feel glad 
my line is thrown away, because if I had caught a fish, 
I would be making the (fish) world unhappy instead of 
making a world more happy, as the birds do. 

Again I am taken away, and find myself on a train, 
chatting with my friends as we are hurrying by hill and 
dale, passing through meadows where cows are grazing 
peacefully, and by cities where people are bustling to 
and fro. We go over bridges and — I am not on the 
beach, in the mountains, or on the train, but sitting up 
in bed, realizing I have been dreaming, and — school- 
days are not over ! 




'A HEADING FOR JUNE." BY MARINELLA COLONNA, AGE l6. 
(SILVER BADGE.) 



A SORG OF JUDE 

BY DOROTHY MC FARLAND (AGE 14) 

(Silver Badge) 
Hobe frob school id the afterdood, * 

Hurrah for the first fide day of Jude ! 
Four liddle boys are oud for fud, 
Gaily plaj'ig id Jude's bright sud. 
Dow we 're off for a swib id the lake, 
Hobe agaid for a slice of cake ; 
Back wudse bore for a roll in the clover, 
Hurrah ! the school-days dow are over ! 

All of us like a boat to row, 
Love to clib od trees, I dow. 
Ride old Jock to the drigig pool, 
Hurrah ! id Jude we have do school ! 

This pobe was writted with a cold id the head, 
I 'be goig to stop writig ad go to bed ! 



762 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



[June, 



A SONG OF JUNE 

BY EMILY S. STAFFORD (AGE 15) 

(Honor Member) 

1 
"T is June ! and all that lives or grows, 

Beneath the sky of blue, 
From field and tree, to bird and bee, 

Believe that it is true. 
All Nature knows when June is here, 

Oh, who could help but know ! 
When far and wide, on every side, 

The fields of daisies grow? 



About her golden hair was twined 

A wreath of summer flowers 
Made from the filmy gossamer 

Found in fairy bowers. 

She scattered grasses o'er the hills, 

And roses o'er the plains ; 
Her smiles like sunshine on them fell ; 

Her tears like summer rains. 

She held the world in soft embrace, 

Till, on a summer day, 
Her roses drooped, and bloomed no more. 

And she stole soft away. 



The sun is bright on meadows green, 

The butterflies are gay ; 
While all day long, the sound of song 

Is heard in joyful lay. 
The breezes dance with graceful flowers 

That fleck the meadows green ; 
While here and there, and everywhere, 

The rose — it reigns as queen ! 



With singing birds and humming bees, 

The world is now a-tune. 
The earth is glad. Who could be sad, 

In such a month as June ! 

THE TOILER'S REWARD 

BY ELEANOR HINMAN (AGE 13) 

(Silver Badge) 
Great is the city, and wide, and its manifold voices 

Break on the ear like a sea ; 
Break on the heart like the roar of a wild creature, 
caged, — 
Like unto me. 

Weary I am of the city, and weary of living, 

Crushed 'neath its merciless wheels ; 
Worked till flesh fails, and the senses grow deadened, 

And the mind reels. 

Naught it avails, save our food and the room that has 
kept us — 
Tiny it is, and bare ; 
Dark when, as now, the gray shadows of even are 
falling 
Through the foul air. 

Yet, the door reached at the top of the darkening 
stairway, 
Life, is not quite so hard ; 
Home here — and heaven ! And close in my arms I 
enfold you — 
You, my reward ! 

A SONG OF JUNE 

BY CAROLYN T. LADD (AGE II) 

She was a maiden beautiful, 

Gentle, and sweet, and fair ; 
Her eyes were dancing, sparkling blue ; 

She had long golden hair. 

Her silken mantle was of green, 

Soft, and light, and airy, 
Spun with the skill of woodland nymphs, 

And magic of a fairy. 



THE TOILER'S REWARD (?) 

BY MARJORIE M. CARROLL (AGE 1 5) 



In February, when the days were drear, 
He bought the seeds, in packages so neat. 

And on each package, stamped in colors clear, 

A picture showed the flower grown. 'T was "sweet" ! 



In March, when longer grew the days, did he 
Into the garden go, and, toiling there, 

Planted, with ardor great (and dirt), a tree, 
Some vegetables, and some flowers fair. 



In April, month of showers, he did think 

To build a lattice — 't was both high and wide, 

For, as he said, 't would keep the roses pink 
From overflowing to his neighbor's side. 



He hied him to the garden, in July. 

Nothing had bloomed; but did he shed a tear? 
Was he discouraged? Did his ardor die? 

Oh, no. He '11 do the very same next year ! 



A SONG OF JUNE 

BY JEAN E. FREEMAN (AGE 14) 



The white rose smiled from the garden, 
The pink rose blushed by the pane ; 

The red rose danced on the summer-seat, 
And the primrose sobbed in the lane. 



A bee robbed the heart of the sweet, white rose, 
And the sun blanched the pink rose's hue ; 

The heart of the red rose bled in the wind, 
And they died ere the day was through. 



The primrose, which sobbed in the sheltering lane, 
Was pulled with a tear and a sigh, 

Then carelessly tossed to the runaway road — 
When she faded the twilight was nigh. 

ENVOI 

They were born of the dew and the sunshine, 
Those blossoms which faded so soon, 

And their fleeting beauty and fragrance, 
Was only an idyl of June ! 



igij] 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



763 



WHEN SCHOOL-DAYS ARE OVER 

BY MARGARET FINCK (AGE 15) 

(Silver Badge) 
An ever-increasing problem in Greater New York is 
how to provide suitable places where school-children 
can be safely taken care of during the summer vacation. 
The children ought to be taken off the traffic-crowded 
streets. 

A number of parks have regular playgrounds in them, 
with swings, turning-bars, etc., and a competent teacher 

in charge. This 
teacher shows the 
children new 

games, and fre- 
quently teaches 
them simple 

dances. Recrea- 
tion piers have 
also been built, 
where the chil- 
dren can safely 
enjoy all kinds of 
good times, under 
the direction of 
teachers, of course. 
Another method 
of interesting 

older girls and 
boys in the up- 
town districts is 
the making of 
school gardens. 
Vacant lots near 
the school can al- 
most always be 
secured for this 
purpose, and at a 
trifling expense 
the ground can 
be broken up. The 
rest of the work 
the boys and girls 
can do. The department of agriculture always stands 
ready to supply the seeds. I remember in particular 
one garden, where an enterprising boy tried to grow 
cotton and peanuts in his little plot. The peanuts grew 
pretty well, but I can't say as much for the cotton. 

While a great number of children are now being 
taken care of during the summer, much more space is 
needed, and a great many more teachers. It is hoped 
that before long the city will supply the necessary 
equipment, and that all the children may be taken 
care of. 

A SONG OF JUNE 

BY ANITA L. GRANNIS (AGE 1 2) 

(Silver Badge) 
O month of June ! whose fairest symbols bring 

A thought of life and love, of youth and hope, — 
For you, birds make the woodland stretches ring 

With joy; and music echoes on the slope. 

And, warmly sunkiss'd on the verdant hill, 

The frail and blushing wild rose, growing fair, 

Breathes forth her sweetest fragrances, until 
An elfin perfume floats upon the air ; 

While, hovering o'er the rosebud's petals curl'd, 
The honey-bee sings low his drowsy tune. 

Peace broods, incarnate, o'er the sunny world 
Because of thee, O June ! 



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. 




A WILLING MODEL. BY WILHELMINA 

R. BABCOCK. (SILVER BADGE.) 



PROSE, 1 

Claire H. Roesch 
Marion M. Casey- 
Mary Daboll 
Margaret Ely 
Nancy A. Fleming 
Helen Huntington 
Edith M. Levy 
Esther Whited 
Fritz Wegner 
Muriel Smith 
Pauline Nichthauser 
Rose Cushman 
Julie Melcher 
Fredrica McLean 
Elizabeth Macdonald 
Bertha F. Zierck 
Rose Pierson 
Alice Lee Tully 
Elmer H. Van Fleet 
Margaret M. Benny 
Myron Drachman 
Velma Truett 
Margaret E. Cohen 
Hedwig Zorb 
Halah Slade 
Gertrude Scoles 
Harriet A. Wickwire 
F. Marie Brown 
Ruth E. Prager 
Helen A. Dority 
William L. Theisen 
Elvene A. Winkleman 
Mary G. Porritt 
Sarah M. Klebs 
Eileen A. Hughes 
Marjorie E. Moran 
Henrietta Shattuck 
Thyrza Weston 
Esther Mayer 
Katharine Le B. Drury 
Hannah Sasse 
Sarah Roody 
Edith G. McLeod 
Louise Gorey 

PROSE, 2 

Richard Beem 
George P. Ludlam 
Joseph Moller 
Anton Pfiffner 
Elizabeth Bradbury 
Nelson C. Munson 
Edna Guck 
Laura Renouard 
Madeleine H. Moller 
Margery L. McNall 
Rosalie Atkinson 
Alice J. Henry 
Carlos Drake l 
Ruth Strassburger 
Gertrude Bendheim 
Helen Thane 
Mildred White 
Eliza A. Peterson 
Helen E. Adams 
Elizabeth Bade 



Bruce T. Simonds 
ElsaA. Synnestvedt 
Randolph Goodridge 
Thomas Mullaney 
Eugenie W. DeKalb 
Rose M. Davis 
Madeline Daum 
Ruth Hoag 
Eva R. Mowitz 
Mary F. Williams 
Rebecca Stecol 
Helen Cameron 
Hope Satterthwaite 
Eunice Eddy 
Dorothy De Witt 
Bertha Michel 
Helen Beeman 
Thomas W. Towle 
Laura B. Hadley 
Esther Baden 
Grace Freese 
Eleanor Mishnun 
Emanuel Farbstein 
Arthur H. Nethercot 
Edyth Walker 
Elizabeth R. Miller 
Margaret A. Blair 
Helen Goodell 
Frances S. Brown 
Hazel M. Chapman 
Beatrice H. Mackenzie 
Dane Vermilion 
Elizabeth C. Rood 
Elizabeth Stockbridge 
Mildred G. Wheeler 
Phyllis Brooks 
Elizabeth C. Morrison 
Irene Charnock 
Gertrude Hooper 
Eleanor Johnson 
Louise S. May 
Solomon Ginsberg 
Vivienne Witherbee 
Margaret Curley 



Dora Fogarty 
Myrtle Doppmann 
Carol Klink 
Ruth E. Flinn 
Hazel K. Sawyer 
Lucy Mackay 
Courtenay H alsey 
Mary A. Porter 
Ruth M. Paine 
Dorothy Rivett 
Eva Albanesi 
Priscilla Taft 
Adelaide Noll 

VERSE, 2 

Corinne L. Lesshafft 
Bessie Radlofsky 
Mabel P. Dana 
Margaret Blake 
HinesH. Hall 
Iman Sygman 
John Perez 
Winifred Fletcher 
Mary M. Flock 
Georgine Layton 
Margaret Marshall 
Margaret M. Horton 
Edward T. Miller 
Theresa Guralinck 
Louise C. Witherell 
Helen J. Barker 
Marian Sichel 
Flora J. Wachtell 
Phillip B. Knight 
Margaret F. Proctor 
Elizabeth Pratt 
W. D. Costigan 
Rose Yaffee 
Rose Kadishevitz 
Mae Gilbert 
Lloyd Dinkelspiel 
Margaret M. Boelts 
Evelyn D. Miller 



Mar 



: Guthr 



Lydia Godfrey 
Mildred Dauber 
Helen Curtis 

VERSE, 1 

Josephine N. Felts 
Mary S. Renson 
Phyllis Mackay 
Vernie Peacock 
Flora McD. Cockrell 
John C. Farrar 
Jessie M. Thompson 
Grace N. Sherburne 
Adeline R. Eveleth 
Renee Geoffrion 
Elizabeth M. Duffield 
Ruth Livingston 
Lucile B. Beauchamp 
Lucile E. Fitch 




<•! H0 



"A WILLING MODEL." BV W. G. STEWART, 
AGE 13. (SILVER BADGE.) 



Isabel Waterhouse 
Helen Creighton 
Gwynne A. Abbott 
Irma A. Hoerman 
Elsie L. Lustig 
Dorothy C. Snyder 
Winnifred Comstock 
Anna E. Rohe 



Jessie McM. Carlin 
Margaret Eulass 
Martha Rader 
Byron Wilson 
Elizabeth Elting 
Alberta Cheese 
Fannie Butterfield 
Ferris Neave 



764 



ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 



Persis Miller 
Dorothy Joseph 
Marie J. Leary 
Edith S. Halihan 



DRAWINGS, i 

Clifford Spencer 
Alice Dahl 
Armstrong Sperry 
Alene S. Little 
Louise Graham 
Marion Monroe 
Ainsworth H. Rankin 
Theodore L. Schisgall 
Frances 13. Gardiner 
Margaret E. Nicolson 
Isabella B. Howland 
Lynde Holley 
Winifred Bostwick 
Minna Schwarz 
Lucie C. Holt 
Welthea B. Thoday 
Florence Sheldon 
Maybelle L. Piaget 
Leo M. Petersen 
Martha H. Cutler 
Dorothy Hughes 
J. Eleanor Peacock 
Alex Lipinsky 
Melville P. Cummins 



DRAWINGS, 2 

Jean Davis 

Mary Marshall 
Jessica H. Robinson 
Edith Deny 
Jessie E. Alison 
Vera Heaton 
Gertrude Parmelee 
Charlotte R. Truitt 
Julia S. Marsh 
Mabel A. Coburn 
Horatio Rogers 
Julia Van H. Slack 
Margery Ragle 
Louis Marchiony 
Jennie E. Everden 
Mary L. Tindolph 
Mary L. Thibault 
Tevis Stoll 
Richard Odlin 
Miriam 7 an Dervort 
Kedma Dupont 
Casco C. Houghton 
Helen Farquharson 
Ruth Still 
Mildred V. Preston 
Elizabeth Martindale 
Aroline A. Beecher 
Mildred Williams 
W. R. Keevers 
Cornelius Shell 
Maurice Roddy 
Louis L. De Hart 
George A. Chromey 
Marguerite H. Nelson 
Ilia Williams 
Emil Thiemann 
Tesie Starrett 
Caroline Bailey 
Alta Davis 
Virginia M. Bliss 
Raymond Ray 
Ben Stephens 
Katharine Spafford 
Elsie Goodhue 
Mildred Moore 
Alice Beghtol 
H. R. Hitchcock, Jr. 
Thomas H. Lyle 
Helen L. Tougas 
EliseStrother 
Frederick W. Agnew 
Janet Lewis 
Miriam Newcorn 
John Gleason 
Joseph Sammons 
Harriette Wardell 
Clara Holder 
Montague G. Ball 
Mac Clark 
Henrietta H. Henning 



Helen P. Miller 
Virginia Gould 
Thomas Millspaugh 
Lousita Moser 
Mary Greenough 
Cornelia W. Tomlin 
Gladys Funck 
Vahe Garahedian 
Ruth Roche 
Gladys E. Livermore 
Lois Myers 
Gladys H. Meldrum 
Philip N. Rawson 
Lavinia Riddle 
Grace Carlsruh 
Jack Field 
Mary E. A skew- 
Marion H. Garland 
Louis E. Tilden 
Mary D. K. Field 
Chrystie Douglas 
Elsie Stuart 
Vierna Wichern 
Beatrice B. Sawyer 
Katherine Palmer 
Adelyn L. Joseph 
Paulyne F. May 
Barbara Cheney 
Marion S. Bradley 
Blanche B. Shaw 
Bess Winston 
Cyril J. Attwood 
Alice M. Hughes 
Gladys Zier 
Bernice Webb 
Rose Zier 
Audrey Noxon 
Hardy Luther 
Kathryn D. Hayward 
Catherine D. Root 
Beatrice Brown 
Christian Burkley 
Mary A. Cushman 
Henry J. Meloy 
Ellen Jay 
Mary A. Hail 
Elizabeth C. Syphen 
Dorothy Belda 
L. Helen Nealy 
Ruby Boardman 
Richard Howard 
Ethel W. Pendleton 
Donald Howard] 
Margaret Watson 
Olyve Graef 
Willis K. Jones 
Gladys Holiday 
Marguerite Sisson 
Arthur Welin 
Armand Donaldson 
Louise W. Rogers 
Elizabeth Thacher 
Frances Koewing 
Anne L. Haynes 
Genevieve Hecker 
S. Dorothy Bell 
Esther Hill 
Elsie Willheim 
Vera Chambers 
Ward Cheney 
Milton Weinstein 

PHOTOGRAPHS, i 

Elgar Smith 
Elsie N. Bernheim 
Austin M. Brues 
Gerald H. Loomis 
Alice B. Young 
Easton B. Noble 
Jessica B. Noble 
Gilbert Wright 
James R. Brown 
Elsie Wright 
Eleanor O. Doremus 
Margaret Pfau 
Frances Gorman 
Helen Gordon 
Marguerite S. Harding 
Katharine W. 

Townsend 
Leigh Stoek 
Clifton D. Geddes 
Lucy B. Grey 
John W. M. Whiting 



Claire H. Phillips 
Helen M. Folwell 

PHOTOGRAPHS, 2 

Donald Hay 
Howard L. Trueman 
Muriel Hayden 
Katharine Smith 
Mary B. McLain 
Sanford Larkey 
Macy O. Teetor 
Eleanor Backes 
Isabel Jackson 
Donald Hilsee 
Longshaw K. Porritt 
Eversley S. Ferris 
Dorothy E. Fox 
Anna G. Tremaine 
Olive C. Rogers 
Adeline Rotty 
Gymaina Hudson 
Elvira Patten 
Laura M. Wild 
Eugene K. Patterson 
HeUene Wittenberg 
Nancy Williams 
Cyril McNear 
Nancy V. D. Eggers 
Andrew N. Adams 
Wilfred G. Humphreys 
Mary Corning 
Marian L. Jones 
Rosanna D. Thorndike 
Betty Lowe 
Catharine Carpenter 
Carl Matthey 
Edwin Fleischmann 
Elizabeth W. Gates 
Estelle Raphael 
Marian Watts 
Franklin S. Deuel 
Kingsley K. Howarth 
Marion P. Stacey 
Alice G. McKernon 
Harry R. McLenegan 
Dorothy Peters 
Melville W. Otter 
Clarissa A. Horton 
Ethel M. Smith 
Marian Saunders 
H. Russell Drowne, Jr. 
E. G. Fitch 
Howard Fligg 
Philip B. Attwood 
Virginia T. Drury 
Frederic Sanborn 
Vivian Sanvage 
Alice Rooney 
Charles Fligg 
Marjorie Dee Marks 
Elizabeth Malcolm 
Murray Hubbell 
Corey H. Ford 
Harriette E. Tipton 
Martha L. Clark 
Gertrude Mclnnes 
John R. Barrows 
James H. Douglas, Jr. 

PUZZLES, 1 

Marion Barnett 
Philip Franklin 
Walter B. Merriam, Jr. 
Harold Sturmdorf 
Ethel T. Boas 
Miriam Goodspeed 
Isidore Helfand 
Roger L. Bridgeman 
James K. Angell 
A. Emelin 
Eleanor C. Bates 
Gustav Deichmann 
Marion T. Griggs 
Douglass Robinson 
John Focht 
Chester M. Way 
Katharine K. Spencer 
Edith A. Lukens 
Ruth Seymour 
Margaret Underwood 
Josephine E. Stoddard 
Jean T. Benswanger 
Lillian McCrelis 



Harry Kirkland 
Henrietta M. Archer 
Hilda V. Libby_ 
Anthony Fabbri 

PUZZLES, 2 

Mary Jessup 
Anna Baratofsky 
Dorothy Barnard 



Helen M. Lancaster 
Caroline F. Ware 
Arthur Schwarz 
Beatrice M. Whyte 
Helen Marie Rohe 
Dorothy E. Uhrich 
Margaret Bliss 
Miriam Morrison 
MilHcent Seymour 
James Y. Speed 



Robert Woodrow 
Frances Coyne 
Marion V. Chambers 
Orlando Ransom 
Fayette L. Bronson 
Jean S. Clarke 
Albert G. Miner 
Marjorie Lindsay 
Ethel F. Black 
Rosa L. Hill 



PRIZE COMPETITION No. 164 

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 Honor Members, when the contribution 
printed is of unusual merit. 

Competition No. 164 will close June 10 (for foreign 
members June 15). Prize announcements will be made 
and the selected contributions published in St. Nicholas 
for October. 

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. 
Subject, " If," or (i If I Were You ! " 

Prose. Essay or story of not more than three hundred 
words. Subject, " The Reason Why." 

Photograph. Any size, mounted or unmounted ; no blue 
prints or negatives. Subject, "Coming! " 

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. 
Subject, " Keeping Cool," or a Heading for October. 

Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the 
answer 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 com- 
petition (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 manuscript, 
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. 



THE LETTER-BOX 



The following description of the shipwreck of the 
Santa Rosa on the California coast, in July, 191 1, was 
written by a young reader of St Nicholas, who has 
here given a vivid account of her experiences as a pas- 
senger on the ill-fated vessel. 

MY FIRST SEA VOYAGE 

We left Sacramento on a summer evening, July 5, 191 1> 
on a Sacramento River steamer. It was a beautiful 
evening, and we sat on the deck until nearly ten p.m., 




MM 
■ 



THE SANTA ROSA LYING OFF POINT ARGUELLO, CALIFORNIA. 

and then went to bed. Our party consisted of five 
people : my mother, my father, my sister Doris, aged 
ten, my brother Warren, aged four, and myself, aged 
eleven. 

We were put to bed in little 
berths, and I wondered if I 
could sleep well on a shelf. Often 
in the night I heard the bells 
and whistles of the boat as we 
neared a landing-place to take 
on or unload cargo. We glided 
down the river all night, and in 
the morning we woke up in San 
Francisco. 

At ten o'clock, we boarded the 
steamer Santa Rosa, bound for 
Santa Barbara. My aunt and 
uncle stood on the wharf and 
waved to us as the ship left her 
moorings. As we sailed out of 
the bay, we passed Alcatraz 
Island, on which the Govern- 
ment has recently built a large 
military prison. We also passed 
the Presidio on our left, the 
largest military station on the 

Pacific coast. We passed through the Golden Gate (the 
narrow strait only a mile in width) that connects San 
Francisco Bay with the Pacific Ocean. It was my first 
sea voyage, and, so far, I had enjoyed it very much. 
We played tag on the deck, or played cards in the cabin, 
or sat on the upper deck to enjoy the scenery. Once, in 



the afternoon, we saw a whale spouting, a mile or two 
away. 

We went to bed at about eight p.m., expecting to ar- 
rive at Santa Barbara at seven a.m. I don't know 
whether I was asleep or awake, but suddenly the boat 
began to rock, and I was cut of bed in an instant and 
at the window, where I could see several people walk- 
ing up and down the deck. In a few minutes, half of 
the people in the boat were up. Mother asked an officer 
what was the matter, and he told her the ship had run 
ashore, and advised Mama to dress. Mama and I 
dressed quietly, as Doris and Warren were still asleep. 
Papa was in a different room, but he joined us as soon 
as we got on deck. Everybody put on life-preservers, 
but after a while, when it became light, we found the 
ship was not sinking, and we were not in great danger, 
so we took them off again. We could see now that we 
were about a block from shore and directly opposite a 
deep ravine across which was a railroad bridge. Every 
once in a while a long passenger-train passed by, and 
the people looked at us curiously from the windows. 
There were also quite a few people gathered on the 
beach. 

We stuck there all day, from half-past three in the 
morning until five o'clock in the afternoon, before they 
began to take us off. The captain thought that we 
could be pulled off, and three steamers, that had come 
to our assistance early in the morning, worked hard all 
day to help us ; but they were not strong enough. 
About five o'clock, a little rowboat, which had been in 
the water all day carrying cables to the steamers from 
the Santa Rosa, was picked up by a huge wave and 
thrown against the side of the ship. People began to 
realize the power of the surf, and every one put on a 
life-preserver again. Then the ship began to crack, and 
every time a wave struck it something went to pieces 
with a crash. The people all went to the front end of the 
boat, and the women and children all climbed upon the 
rigging. The boat was listed so to one side that the 
rigging was not much steeper than a flight of stairs. 




'EVERY TIME A WAVE STRl 



SOMETHING WENT TO 1'IECES. 



After a long effort, during which some brave men were 
nearly drowned, a light line was finally thrown to the 
people on the shore. By means of this, a heavy cable 
was pulled ashore and fastened to the railroad bridge 
on top of the cliffs. The other end was fastened half- 
way up the foremast. On this cable was fastened a 



765 



766 



THE LETTER-BOX 



pulley to which a cargo net was attached. The cargo 
net was like a large shopping-bag, made of rope, and 
would hold three or four persons at a time. Each time 
a load went over, it seemed as if the ship would surely 
go to pieces before it came back. Doris and I went 
over about the sixth load. I got in first, then Doris, 
and then two little boys. We were all children, so the 
load was very light, and we did not get very wet. 
Mama and Warren came over not long afterward, and 
Papa came over on a raft an" hour or so later 

The people on shore had large camp-fires made, and 
an old darky seventy-five years old carried a great can 
of coffee five miles for the shipwrecked people. 

On the shore, children were anxiously waiting for 
their mothers, and wives for their husbands. People 
were stretched out on the sand with doctors taking 
care of them. Camp-fires were blazing, and men were 
taking flash-light pictures that made everything turn 
red for a moment. 

A special train was sent from Santa Barbara for the 
shipwrecked people. We climbed up the bank to this 
train, where we all got blankets to wrap around us. 
We arrived in Santa Barbara a little after midnight, 
and took an auto bus to the hotel. We looked as if we 
were going to a masquerade ball, as we all walked up 
the stairs with blankets and flowered comforters 
wrapped around us. In the morning, the friends whom 
we were going to visit came after us in an automobile. 

It was my first sea voyage, and I think it will be my 
last one for a while. Mary L. Hunter. 

This exciting "Story of a Porcupine" is sent to St. 
Nicholas by Robert M. Parkhill, age 8, and a very 
well-told story it is, considering the age of its writer. 

A STORY OF A PORCUPINE 

Papa and I were camping out under a big fir-tree. One 
night when we were asleep, something jabbed into 
Papa's hand, and he yelled # . We got up, and there 
were holes in the sheet and blanket We were going to 
heat some water, 'cause we thought that would do it 
some good. When I went to get some wood from the 
corner of the tent, something jabbed into my hand, and 
I jerked my hand away quick. But Papa still wanted 
me to get some wood. I told him that there was some- 
thing down there ! Sure enough, there was a little 
round ball on top of the pile of wood. I knew there 
was something down there. It was a porcupine ! Then 
Papa took a big club, hit it on the head, and killed it. 



fun to play out of doors, I think, when you have a 
crowd of people and large grounds. 

In one of my large windows, I have a stand of plants 
and a glass bowl containing one solitary fish. In Oc- 
tober I had six, but one by one they committed suicide, 
by overeating. Was n't that tragic ? 

I wish Miss Du Bois would write another story like 
"The Lass of the Silver Sword." I think it is the best 
story St. Nicholas has published during the five years 
I have taken it. My favorite story now is "The Land 
of Mystery," and as Arshag is at present a prisoner, 
I 'm anxiously awaiting the new number. 

Thanking you, dear St. Nicholas, for the many 
happy hours you have afforded me, I am, 
Your devoted reader, 

Elizabeth W Stead (age 13). 



Boonton, N. J. 
My Dear St. Nicholas : We live in the country. It is 
very lovely here at all times of the year. We have a 
pony and a cart. We can ride and drive him. 

We had some goats last year, and kept them a year, 
but when winter came, they went up and down the 
street, looking for something green to eat ; so then our 
mother sold them to the man she bought them from. 
We are going to move in another month, and I will 
be rather sorry, because Boonton is such a lovely place, 
and we have been here four years. This house is 105 
years old, and we have thirty acres of land 
Your loving reader, 
Louisa Wilson Farrand (age 10). 



N. Easton, Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas : This is my first letter to you. 

I have a few pets, four guinea-pigs — Judy, Impie, 
Ginger, and Babe are their names. I have a cat, Clubs, 
and a canary-bird, Dick ; I have eight fowls, too. I 
have one hundred and fifty-two books and sixteen dolls. 
I like to read very much, and like to draw still more. 
I have made as many as one hundred and six or seven 
little books. I print them on the typewriter, and then 
illustrate them. I am eleven years old. 

I have a chum, Mildred, and we have great fun in 
summer, wading in the brook, and climbing trees and 
sewing. My little brother Charlie has two little chums, 
too, Alfred and John. Sometimes we all go together. 
We go fishing at Horn-Pout Pool in summer ; we gave 
it that name because there are so many little horn- 
pouts there Your little reader, 

Imelda Warren. 



Owings Mills, Baltimore, Md. 
My Dear St. Nicholas : I think your stories are very, 
very nice. You have always been my favorite maga- 
zine, and you have such wonderfully clever drawings 
and photographs, too 

I go to school, and I have had the highest general 
averages in the school. 

Your loving reader, 

Helen W. Norris (age 9). 



White Plains, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas : It is a long time since I have had 
the pleasure of writing to you — nearly three whole 
years. 

I am now at boarding-school in White Plains, and a 
jolly good time I certainly have. We have about fifteen 
acres, and all last fall, we played field hockey, socker, 
tennis, and basket ball on our outdoor court. It 's great 



HIS AGE 

BY GRACE E. FREESE 

'One hundred and thirty-seven years ago, 

This next Fourth of July, 
What was it that happened?" the teacher asked, 

And waited for John's reply. 

He looked at her in blank surprise. 

"My age is only ten. 
How old did you suppose I was, 
To know what happened then ?" 



Youngstown, O. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Here in Youngstown there is a 
flood. People were taken out of the second-story win- 
dows in boats. We had no school because there is no 
water and no light. 

I am six years old, and I love your stories. 

Bertha Hitchcock. 




PERPEN- 



ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER 



Geographical Subtractions, i 
3. Japan, nap. 4. Turkey, rue. 5. 
7. Algeria, rail. 8. Soudan, pod. 

Chase. 
. Linen. 



Sweden, weed. 
Mexico, come. 



2. Siberia, bear. 
6. Guiana, nag. 



Audubon. 
4. Felucca. 



Cross-words: 1. 
5. Carbine. 6. 



Word-Squares. I. 
. Enter. II. 1. Alive. 



3. Altar. 4. Ortolan. 5. Malay. 6. 



Cross-words: 1. Sheik. 
6. Inept. 7. Scrap. 8. 



" Glorious first of 
4. Odor. 5. Hire. 



2. Haven. 3. Avert. 4. Serve. 

3. Inane. 4. Venom. 5. Enemy. 

Novel Historical Acrostic. . Cross-words: 1. Caesar. 2. Actium. 
3. Empire. 4. Scipio. 5. Antony. 6. Romans. 1-7, Crassus. 8-13, 
Pompey. 14-24 and 7, Commentaries. 

Double Zigzag. Stevenson, Kidnapped. 
2. Staid. 3. Emend. 4. Event. 5. Extra. 
Cozen. 9. Naiad. 

Connected Stars. I. 1. T. 2. As. 3. Sachems. 4. Scores. 5. 
Peace. 6. Trails. 7. Sincere. 8. My. 9. K.. Diagonals: 1. Scales. 
2. Sears. II. 1. K. 2. It. 3. Lucerne. 4. Bureau. 5. Burro. 6. 
Andrews. 7. Savants. 8. Us. 9. Y. Diagonals : 1. Lures. 2. Earns. 

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 March Number were received before March 10 from " Midwood " — Claire A. Hepner. 

Answers to Puzzles in the March Number were received before March 10 from Rebecca Vincent, 8 — Dorothy Vernon Smith, 8— 
Janet Brouse, 8 — Catharine L. Swing, 8 — Theodore Ames, 7 — -Helen E. Fyke, 7 — Helen A. Moulton, 7 — Isabel Shaw, 7 — "Chums," 6 — Eliza- 
beth Botsford, 6 — Mary L. Ingles, 6 — Gladys S. Conrad, 6 — Marion K. Valentine, 5 — Lothrop Bartlett, 5 — Dorothy Berrall, 5 — Max Stolz, 4 — 
Mary Hubbard, 3 — Eloise Peckham, 3 — Janet B. Fine, 3 — Matilda Van Siclen, 3 — Josephine Hendy, 2 — Sophie Rosenheim, 2 — Mary Julia 
Crocker, 2— Edith B. Hall, 2. 

Answers to one Puzzle were received from G. R. B. — L. W. — M. C. G. — E. M. S. — E. H.— D. M. K.- 
B.— B. W.— M. R.— D. C— H. P.— H. R.— K. H.— L. G.— M. G.— D. L. T— "26 E. 37th St." 



Illustrated Central Acrostic. 
Wreaths. 2. Columns. 3. Spiders. 
Bayonet. 7. Harness. 

Diamond, i. O. 2. Arm. 
Ray. 7. N. 

Numerical Enigma. When a man has not a good reason for doing 
a thing, he has a good reason for letting it alone. 

Diagonal. Agamemnon. Cross-words: 1. Phenomena. 2. Sacri- 
lege. 3. Vindicate. 4. Lineament. 5. Tasteless. 6. Whimsical. 7. 
Continent. 8. Nocturnal. 9. Notorious. 

Anagram. Lord Cornwallis. , 

Novel Zigzag. Lord Howe. 1-5, Brest. 6-24, 
June." Cross-words: r. Lest. 2. Join. 3. Rust. 
6. Four. 7. Wolf. 8. Begs. 



-W. B. S.— V. M. A.— J. W.-K. 



PRIMAL ACROSTIC OF CONCEALED NAMES 

In each of the following sentences a masculine name is 
concealed ; when correctly guessed, the primals, in the 
order given, will spell the name of a country and its 
capital. 

1. The mended garments were sent to the poor. 

2. The new governor managed the affair well. 

3. The box contained either rouge or gelatine. 

4. I found the brambles terribly scratchy. 

5. The grand reward was to be given her. 

6. The gnat, hanging in the web, was captured. 

7. Adelaide lost her purse yesterday. 

8. Please take the apple out of the room. 

9. The pianos carried to the hall were injured. 

10. The colonel's onset won the day. 

11. He bought the land on Alder Creek. 

12. The pilot told a harrowing tale. 

13. I hope you did not lean a pole on the fresh paint. 

marion j. benedict (age 14), League Member. 

INTERLOCKING WORD-SQUARES 



I. Upper Left-hand Square: i. Gathers. 2. 
3. A feminine name. 4. A Turkish governor. 

II. Upper Right-hand Square: i. A very rich man. 



Applause. 
5. Place. 



2. A linen cloth worn by priests. 3. A loop of a rope. 
4. A kind of earth, used in making paints. 5. An East 
Indian nut. 

III. Central Square: i. Devastation. 2. Sun-dried 
brick. 3. Declared by general consent. 4. Fleshy. 5. 
Yielded. 

IV. Lower Left-hand Square: i. An Indian viceroy. 
2. Speedily. 3. A kind of cook. 4. A large body of 
water. 5. A Swiss canton. 

V. Lower Right-hand Square: i. Meaning. 2. Pre- 
pares for publication. 3. A nest. 4. A jet of steam 
issuing from a fissure in the earth. 5. To try. 

eugene scott (age 1 5), Honor Member. 

CROSS-WORD ENIGMA 

My first is in scratch, but not in pick ; 
My second in hit, but not in kick ; 
My third is in stream, but not in pool ; 
My fourth is in razor, but not in tool. 
My fifth is in key, but not in latch. 
My whole is a fish you '11 seldom catch. 

Alfred curjel (age io), League Member. 

ZIGZAG 

The words described are of equal length, and when 
correctly guessed and written one below another, the 
zigzag through the first and second columns will spell 
the name of a famous battle fought in June. 

Cross-words : 1. To tie together. 2. Destruction. 3. 
On the hand. 4. A brief satire. 5. To gain by labor. 
6. The larva of an insect. 7. A rise of ground. 8. A 
climbing plant. 9. A flower. 10. Prostrate. 

grace meleney (age 17), League Member. 



767 



768 



THE RIDDLE-BOX 




DOUBLE ILLUSTRATED NUMERICAL ENIGMA 

In the above picture appear two illustrated numerical 
enigmas. When solved in the usual way, the answer to 
the left-hand puzzle will be a famous exclamation 
uttered one hundred years ago ; the answer to the right- 
hand puzzle will spell two famous names associated 
with the exclamation referred to. w. m. 

CENTRAL ACROSTIC 

Each of the words described contain the same number 
of letters. When rightly guessed and written one below 
another, the central row of letters will spell the name 
of a famous composer. 

Cross-words : i. A small, rude house, 2. Precipitous. 
3. To affirm on oath. 4. Used by a conductor. 5. A 
title of respect, used in India. 6. A household imple- 
ment. 7. Collapses. 8. Severe. 9. Convenient. 

Virginia bliss (age 12), League Member. 



GEOGRAPHICAL ZIGZAG 

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

All the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below 
another, the zigzag, beginning at the upper left-hand 
corner, will spell the name of a large body of water. 

Cross-words : 1. A western State. 2. An important 
city of Persia. 3. A group of islands in the Bay of 
Bengal. 4. A large city of Wisconsin. 5. An island 
belonging to Great Britain off the eastern coast of 
Africa. 6. A Siberian river. 7. A mountain of Wash- 
ington. 8. A city of northern Africa. 9. A mountain of 
Mexico. 10. The capital of one of the Atlantic States 
that gave its name to a battle. 11. An Italian city, 
famous among musicians. 12. A range of mountains in 
western North America. 13. A city of Virginia, famous 
for its navy-yard. 

MALCOLM D. WARNER (age II). 



CONCEALED SQUARE WORD 

(One word is concealed in each couplet) 

He views me with an envious eye, 
And begs my fruit with many a sigh. 

I have no more than I can use, 
And yet I cannot well refuse. 

A braver thing of course 't would be 
To just ignore his whining plea. 

The sinner very soon would learn 
That what he wants he 'd better earn. 

But munching pears along the way, 
He went ere I had said my say. 

Helen A. Sibley. 

ANAGRAM ACROSTIC 

Each group of letters, properly rearranged, spells the 
title of a well-known book, whose primals, in the order 
given, spell the name of a famous poem. 

1. Sahn nrebirk. 2. Ovneahi. 3. Eacli ni oandlwedrn. 
4. Dorwen kobo. 5. Uedrnevtas fo a nreboiw. 6. 
Stauerer dsainl. 7. Soheu fo hte esvne egslab. 8. 
Revtudsane fo onrib doho. 

flavia waters (age io), League Member. 



KING'S MOVE FRUIT PUZZLE 

(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 



1 

R 


2 

Y 


3 
E 


4 
B 


* 
L 


6 

A 


7 
O 


8 

R 


9 
N 


10 
C 


11 
R 


12 

E 


13 

P 


14 

E 


18 

N 


18 

E 


17 

G 


18 

A 


IS 

R 


20 
U 


21 

P 


22 

s 


; 23 
A 


24 

P 


26 

Q 


26 
1 


27 

N 


29 

T 


29 

R 


30 

A 


31 

N 


32 
O 


33 

E 


34 

u 


35 

R 


38 

c 


37 
C 


38 

N 


39 

A 


40 

R 


41 

A 


42 
O 


43 

A 


44 

E 


45 

G 


46 

D 


47 
H 


48 
I 


49 
R 


60 

Y 


61 

B 


62 

G 


53 
R 


64 

P 


B6 

A 


66 

G 


67 

E 


68 

F 


69 

L 


60 

E 


61 

H 


62 

A 


63 

L 


64 

E 


65 

T 


66 

1 


67 

E 


66 

N 


69 

c 


70 
P 


71 

M 


72 

M 


T3 
O 


74 

L 


75 

E 


76 

V 


77 
M 


78 
O 


79 

A 


80 

E 


81 

P 



Beginning at a certain square, move to an adjoining 
square until each square has been entered once. If the 
moves are correctly made, the letters in the succeeding 
squares will spell the names of fifteen well-known fruits, 
p. ernest isbell (age 14). 



THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK. 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




"Now we'll have a feast!" 

"Yes. And a feast that is not only tempting but whole- 
some and nourishing; easy to digest and easy to prepare — 
a perfect bisque made with 

TOMATO 

OUP 

The simple directions on the label show exactly how. 
Put in as much milk or cream as you choose. Serve it 
with croutons or rice if you like, or grate a little cheese over 
it. You never tasted anything finer. 

Why not write for our little free booklet 
which describes a dozen other ways to 
prepare this tasty soup? 

21 kinds 10c a can 





"I'm free to state, I lap the 

plate 
When Campbell's Soup I get. 
Although perhaps this is a 

lapse 
From strictest etiquette." 



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 

Tomato 

Tomato-Okra 

Vegetable 

Vermicelli-Tomato 



Look for the red-and-white label 




ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



YELLCWSTONE PAI :■ ' rELLDWSTONE PARK] 





Fun For Everybody in 
Yellowstone National Park 

CT,The Geysers, Cataracts, Canyons, Mountains, Lakes and Streams are 
spread in most alluring array around the superb 143-mile coaching trip 
through America's Only Geyserland. Jaunts of one, two or more days at 
small cost, or complete tour in 6 days only $55.50. Fishing galore in the 
flashing trout streams — side trips to the haunts of Bison, Bear, Deer, Elk, 
Antelope, Beaver and other weird creatures so plentiful in this greatest of 
Uncle Sam's preserves. Go this summer sure! Season: June 15 -Sept. 15. 

CLLow fares for the Park trip by itself or in connection with Pacific Coast trips. Through 
sleeping cars direct to Gardiner Gateway, the original Yellowstone Park entrance from 
Chicago, St. Paul, Minneapolis and from Pacific Coast daily during season. Gardiner is 
reached only via the Northern Pacific. 

&#■ " Personally Conducted Excursions from Chicago every Sunday June 22 to September 7, 
to and through the Park and return to Chicago. The no-bother, most-fun way. Make reser- 
vations early. Let me tell you about Summer Tourist and Convention Tickets at greatly 
reduced rates. Say whether you want to make Park trip, or go on to Pacific Coast. 
CAttach 3 two cent stamps to coupon for beautifully executed view album of Yellowstone 
Park, in colors. This new book is easily worth a dollar. Send quick for your copy. 

YELLOWSTONE PARK BOOK COUPON 

This coupon and six cents in stamps will bring the book to you. Just fill in name and ad- 
dress plainly. 

Check here CD if interested in Personally Conducted Through Park Service. 
Check here □ if interested in Yellowstone Park and Pacific Coast trips. 

Name 



Street and No. 



Town State 

A. M. CLELAND, General Passenger Agent, ST. PAUL, MINN. 



Offices in Leading Cities 




^ Northern 



Railway o 






Panama-Pacific Exposition — San Francisco 1915 Panama-California Exposition — San Diego 1915 



IO 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




Do You Know that Heinz Peanut Butter 
is Good for Children? 

Children like it because it tastes so good. 
And Wise Parents encourage them to eat it. Food 
Scientists will tell you that 

Heinz Peanut Butter 

peculiarly supplies the solid nutriment that makes thin legs grow plump — 
that builds firm flesh — gives rosy color. Use it, not as an occasional treat, 
but as an every day diet. Everyone likes it. Selected 
fresh peanuts ground and prepared with the care that is 
given all the famous 

57 Varieties 

In thousands of households it is' 
considered a necessity — and more 
than replaces high priced creamery 
butter. 

Heinz Spaghetti 

Something New and Extra Good 

Real Italian Style Spaghetti — a " masterpiece" in fine blending of choice 
materials. Words can't describe its zest and richness— its delicacy of flavor. 
Ready to serve. Pure, appetizing, nourishing. Spaghetti at its best. Just 
the thing to vary the household fare. 

Other Heinz Food Products are : Apple Butter, India Relish, 
Preserves, Vinegar, Soups — Tomato, Pea, Celery — Olive Oil, 
Ketchup, Baked Beans, Olives, etc. 

H. J. Heinz Company 



Try This Recipe 

for 

Heinz PeanutButter 

Fudge 

2 Caps confection- 
er's Sugar 
1-2 cop sweet milk 
2 heaping table- 
spoons of Heinz 
Peanut Butter. 
Boil five (5) minutes 
exactly; remove from 
fire and stir until it 
thickens ; pour into 
buttered platter and 
cut into required 
squares. 



mm 

PEAWtn 
BUTTER 

6J-07NETWF!6hTAVa 

mmm 

am 

57. 



Over SO, 000 Visitors inspect the Heinz Pare Food Kitchens every year. 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 






owtno 

1UCAR 



/COMPLETING its ten hour journey, 
^^ before being cut into the familiar 
dainty dominoes. 

A closing step in the process of manufacture, 
making CRYSTAL DOMINO the purest, 
sweetest and most wholesome sugar. 
Tested for immaculate whiteness, the cut 
dominoes are packed in moisture-proof car- 
tons ready for the table of the discriminating 
housewif e where, with cut glass, snowy napery 
and gleaming silver, CRYSTAL DOMINO 
adds a final touch of refinement. 

One of the Quality Products of 
THE AMERICAN SUGAR REFINING COMPANY 
Address New York 

Full and Half Size Pieces 




12 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



El 



NABISCO 

Sugar Wafers 

enrich the elaborate luncheon, adorn 
the simplest of "afternoons." Their 
goodness and attractiveness are pleas- 
ing alike to hostess and guests. 

Sweetness and flavor are delightfully 
united in these highly esteemed des- 
sert confections. 

In ten cent tins ; also in twenty-five 
cent tins. 

ADORA :— A filled sugar wafer — the 
newest of dessert sweets. 

IXSTINO:— A favorite confection 
in the guise of an almond, with a 
kernel of almond-flavored cream. 

CHOCOLATE. TOKE.NS:— A 

dessert confection having a rich 
chocolate coating. 



NATIONAL BISCUIT COMPANY 






llsiill 




13 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




See how easy it is! 

KODAK 

Nothing whatever to puzzle young heads in the 
Kodak way of taking pictures, but everything to make 
it plain and simple as A B C. And it's fun that boys 
and girls never outgrow. 

KODAKS, $5.00 and up. BROWNIES, $1.00 to $12.00. 

Catalogue at your dealers or by mail. Free. 

EASTMAN KODAK COMPANY, Rochester, N. Y., The Kodak City. 



14 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




Boys, you can now get the Diamond Safety 
Automobile Tread on your Bicycle Tires 

Here's just what you have always wanted — a bicycle tire that 
won't skid on wet pavements, oiled roads, or when you turn 
sharp corners — that is hard to puncture, is oil-proof, wear- 
proof, and is easy riding. 

Diamond 



(Squee S g 1l) y Tread Tires for Bicycles 



This is the same "Won't Slide — 
Won't Slip — Won't Skid — They 
Grip" Tread that has made Dia- 
mond Automobile Tires famous, the 
tread that has solved 
the skidding problem for 



automobilists. Diamond Bicycle 
Tires are made to wear, honestly 
built, strong, and will stand hard 
knocks. 

Write to-day for Diamond Bicycle 
Tire catalog — FREE. 



"It's 
red 
and oil- 
resisting 



See that the name "Diamond" is stamped on each bicycle tire you buy— you can get them from 



Diamond Dealers Every where. 



If your dealer does not happen to have Diamond Bicycle Tires, we will 

send them by Parcel Post, prepaid, anywhere in the U. S. 

(East of Rocky Mountains) for $8 per pair 



15 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




How Does She Jump So High? 



This little girl is jumping on New Live Rubber and 
that New Live Rubber has been made into 



O'Sullivan's Heels 

Girls and boys who wear O'SULLIVAN'S HEELS are not 
only quiet but their feet are light and their walk is springy. 
Mother never says "Do stop that noise !" when you wear 

O'Sullivan's Heels 



1 6 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



"All aboard on Red 
Tread V. C. 's — the 
real tires!" 





BOYS, a pair of bright Red Tread tires makes a wonderful dif- 
ference in the appearance of your wheel — and even more in its 
riding qualities. 

PENNSYLVANIA 

Tied ®lffVlO0f' Tread 

VACUUM 1 CUPTIRES 

FOR BICYCLES 

have the suction cups which prevent slipping on wet or greasy pavements. 

The quality is so high and the construction so good that they show only the most 
gradual wear under the very hardest use — hardly anything can puncture them. 

Oily roads cannot affect the rubber of these tires. They are Oilproof — proof 
against oil-rot. 

If your dealer cannot supply you, write us direct. You just have to have them. 

Just read the guarantee for an entire season's service that goes with every tire. 

PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER CO., Jeannette, Pa. 

Branches 

Pittsburgh, 505 Liberty Avenue Detroit, 254 Jefferson Avenue Minneapolis, 34 S. 8th Street 

Cleveland, 1837 Euclid Avenue Chicago, 1004 Michigan Avenue Kansas City, Mo., 514 E. 15th Street 

Omaha, 215 S. 20th Street Seattle, Armour Building 

PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER COMPANY OF NEW YORK 

New York City, 1700 Broadway Boston, 149 Berkeley Street Dallas, 411 S. Ervay Street 

PENNSYLVANIA RUBBER COMPANY OF CALIFORNIA 

San Francisco, 512-514 Mission Street Los Angeles, 930 S. Main Street 

An Independent Company with an independent selling policy 



17 



St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. ij8. 



Time to hand in answers is up June 10. Prize-winners announced in August number. 




"It is certainly remarkable," Alexander the 
Little observed to us one day, "how much will 
be seen by a trained observer where ordinary 
persons see very little." 

" Just what do you mean ?" we asked. 

"Well," he cried, "take the advertising 
pages of the May St. Nicholas, for example. 
I suppose I could ask a score or more ques- 
tions about those pages, referring to things the 
ordinary reader overlooks." 

" Why not make an Advertising Competi- 
tion on that basis ? " we suggested. 

"Not a bad idea," was his answer, and so 
the present competition was made. 

When Alexander brought in the drawing, 
we asked him why the ink-bottle was tipped 
over, and he replied, " Oh, that was an acci- 
dent," and he would n't say any more about 
it. Then we asked him why the boy at the 
left was smiling, and Alexander said that was 
the Smarty Boy who thought he had the right 
answer when he had n't. Next we suggested 
that the dunce-cap was an anachronism, but 
Alexander said coolly, "That was what I 
meant it to be " ; and so we let it go and 
changed the subject by asking him to explain 
the competition. 

(See also page 

18 



" It is very simple," Alexander replied. " I 
have asked a set of twenty questions, all of 
which can be answered by carefully examining 
the advertisements in the May St. Nicholas. 
After finding all the answers, the girls and 
boys and other readers of the magazine will 
have found a number of things that otherwise 
they might overlook. 

" When the answers are found, number them 
to agree with the questions, but do not copy 
the questions. Write only the name of the 
company, as given in the advertisement which 
you think contains the answer to each of the 
following questions:" 

THE QUESTIONS 

What gives relief from the costly drop- stitch trouble? 

What does Brother John bring into the house when 
the day's fun is over? 

What is said of thedainty little "disks of delight "? 

Which advertisements mention Sea Island? 

What grocer gives you credit for being wise? 
6. Who will send you a funny animal rhyme book 
with colored pictures? 

What makes all outdoors a playground for grown- 
ups? 

What is guaranteed for 5000 miles? 

Who will send you a Juvenile History of the 
United States free of charge? 

What did the foremost Soup-Expert of the world 
originate? 
is 20 and 24.) 



1. 
2. 

3- 

4- 
5- 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




19 



ST. 

11. Where can you get "My Biography," a book for 

babies ? 

12. What revives old guns, making them work like new? 

13. What Illinois town was founded by a piano-maker? 

14. What babies have no cares nor worries? 

15. What is sent cavorting on the wing by scissors, 

paste, and string? 

16. What are four of the most famous makers in the 

country working together to make? 

17. Why can the Indian walk so far tirelessly? 

18. What has the most exquisite of creamy centers? 

19. What food is said to be prepared "in a jiffy"? 

20. What new things are on sale at all dealers' on the 

28th of each month? 
And there is, of course, the usual short letter which must 
be written to help us decide who of those submitting equally 
correct lists are entitled to prizes. This month it must be 
a letter asking more information about something advertised 
in any recent number of St. Nicholas — something you 
really want to know. 



NICHOLAS LEAGUE 

The prizes and rules are the same as usual. 

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. Pro- 
spective contestants need not be subscribers for St. Nicholas 
in order to compete for the prizes offered. 

2. In the upper left-hand corner of your list give name, age, 
address, and the number of this competition (138). 

3. Submit answers by June 10, 191 3. Do not send answers in 
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 together. 

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. 138, St. 
Nicholas League, Union Square, New York. 



Report on Advertising Competition No. 136. 



When you finished reading "A Fortune in a Flower" in last 
month's St. Nicholas, did it occur to you that the satne 
patient persistency and care which Florry learned while grow- 
ing her flowers is what you are showing by sending in care- 
ful answers to our competitions month after month ? 

It certainly is not wasted time. 

Just think, one of the most interesting advertisements in 
this magazine was written by a St. Nicholas League girl — 
a prize winner, who took our words literally when we said we 
wanted our readers to help us. I know many of you helped 
us also by doing what Florry did — writing letters to business 
men — write to the advertiser whose announcement in St. 
Nicholas you like best and give him some ideas for adver- 
tising in St. Nicholas. 

Now about the mistakes in that automobile trip list. The 
most common were : 

Mentioning advertisements smaller than one-quarter page. 



(See also pages 18 and 24.) 



Not beginning with New York. Neglecting to state how 
many advertisers mention New York in any size advertise- 
ment. 20 is the right answer. Overlooking The Procter & 
Gamble Co. 's name at Cincinnati. Writing name of thing 
advertised instead of company's name. Not writing name 
as it appeared. Poor spelling. 

The letters were interesting and show how much influence 
you have in the family when anything is to be bought and 
how loyal you are to your St. Nicholas friends. I believe 
that the girl who persuaded her father to buy a certain make 
of car and the family who convinced their neighbors that U. 
S. Tires were the best because they were advertised in St. 
Nicholas are duplicated over and over again in many 
homes. 

Here is the list of our young experts: 
Otie First Prize, $3.00: 

Archibald DeB. Johnson, age 14, Pennsylvania. 



dg JfaiMudA JlaillaAdi. JlailUdA Jla 

late Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Grounc 




■olate Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Grou 



mmd Chocolate Ground Chocolate Ground Chocolate Ground Choco 
20 



Take Finished Pictures 
in Two Minutes 

T TFRF is the camera you have always want- 
*■ *■ ed — takes pictures and develops them ready 
to see, in two minutes! No dark room, no 
expensive films or plates. 

HOW YOU DO IT 

You put a package of sensitized cards in the cam- 
era, make the exposure, then drop one card into the 
developing tank, which is inside the camera. That 's 
all — and in two minutes a permanent picture is ready 
to look at, and the camera is ready to take another. 
Everything is so simple that any child can operate 
it after reading the instructions. 

SPECIAL OFFER FOR SHORT TIME ONLY 

We want every man, woman, boy and girl in the 
world to see this wonderful camera as soon as possi- 
ble, and if you will promise to show yours to your 
friends you may have it at half price. The regular 
prices are $5.00 (Model A), $10.00 (Model B) and 
$15.00 (Model O— prices to you $2.50, $5.00 or 
$7.50. Model A takes pictures 2 K x 3/i inches, Model 
B 3/ix-S'A inches, Model C takes both sizes. Which- 
ever one you order, enclose 90 cents additional to 
cover parcel post, extra sensitized cards and develop- 
ing powders. 

Write today, enclosing Express or Postal Money 
Order, and the camera and supplies will be sent to 
you promptly. Your money back if not satisfied. 
Address : 

GORDON CAMERA CO. 
1594 Stuyvesant Building, New York, N. Y. 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



r-m 



0\ 





o\ 






A'T-A-I-R-Y" STORY 

Chapter IV 
{This story vega?i in the March issue of this year) 

SQUADS of fairies were running to a large storehouse, and coming 
with great bundles of Fairy Soap. From all the houses fairiescame 
hurrying, laden with their very own supply. To and fro, to and fro 
ran the generous little creatures till the soap made a great mound that 
glistened like snow in the moonlight. 

Then the cooks stepped forward importantly and built a monstrous fire, 
and the blacksmiths with a great hammering erected a huge crane. Now 
a hundred little fairies came staggering along under the weight of a 
mammoth caldron, which they swung on the long crane. Here the fun 
commenced! For fairies are such jolly creatures that they even turn 
their work to play. They raced to the mound, each seized a cake, and 
up, up, up they tossed them, and down, down, down they came, with not 
a single miss, plunk into the deep caldron! Then back they went for 
anotherthrow.andforatimetheairwasfullof flying whitespecks. ybwwould 
have thought they were having a snow-ball fight. Every now and then 
some mischievous little fellow could n't resist a sly shot at the chief cook, 
or at some dignified old sage, and of course that only added to the fun. 
Finally the last cake had fallen into the pot and the shiny white mass 
was bubbling away merrily. The fairies, quite out of breath, sank down 
on the grass to rest, — all except the chief cook. He, mounted on 
a ladder that had been placed alongside the sputtering caldron, peered 
cautiously over the edge. 

Suddenly he waved his long spoon, shouting triumphantly: "It's 
done! It's done!" But — horrors! — just at that moment his foot slipped 
and down he went to the bottom of the pot. 

( To be continued next month) 

THE N. K. FAIRBANK COMPANY 
CHICAGO 

Makers of Fairy Soap 




If you will write The N. K. Fairbank Company, Chicago, and tell them what you think of their Fairy Soap story, they will sen 1 you 
a copy of their Juvenile History of the United States, free of charge. 

21 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



IF baby has to be weaned, 
he is never too young to 
be put on 

ESKAYS 
FOOD 

Pure, fresh . cow's milk modified with • 
Eskay's contains everything to nourish, 
and in a form so near mother's milk 
that the youngest baby won't notice the 
change. 

The mother of this fine little girl (Ruth 

Browell, Palmerton, Pa.) was stricken 

with typhoid when baby was but two 

weeks old. Little Ruth 

was then put on Eskay's 

Food. Her picture 

shows how well she 

thrived on it. 

fc Don't let your baby 

^yvorry along On a food 

that is not agreeing 

with, him. Start him 

n Eskay's today. 

"Ask Your 
Doctor." 



FOR 

INVALIDS 

or any one with 
impaired diges- 
tion, Eskay's 
malres a highly- 
n ou ri s h ing, 
palatable and 
easily-digested 
food. Literature 
and sample free. 



TEN FEEDINGS FREE 



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

Gentlemen : — Please send me free 10 feedings of Eskay's Food and 
your helpful book for mothers, " How to Care for the Baby." 

Name 

Street and Nnmher 

City and State 



Is Your Glove Stiff? 





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

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

Tliree-in-One OilCo.,4? Q B.B'wy,H Y C. 



L 



DON'T MUFF 



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

Three in One Oil Co., 42 0. B. Broadway, New York City 

BOYS DON'T DROWN 

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



■ dlflflfffi III fiORh* 


4p 




frm 


%®wm^<^ r 


Kfl K4H ' - KififffiSSBSf: 


fife. 


With a HEALTH MERRY=G0=R0UND on your lawn you need not 
worry about the health and amusement of your children. They'll 
enjoy themselves in theopen, at home. Grow strong in mind and body. 

The Health Merry=Go=Round is absolutely safe; has no cogs; is 
strongly Suilt of iron, steel and seasoned wood; repair proofjan 
ornament to the lawn, or public play grounds. Made with or with- 
out canopy. Organ for music. 

Every machine Guaranteed. Sent on Free Trial; your money 
back if not satisfied. Dealers Wanted — attractive proposition. 
Write for Free Illustrated Catalog. 

HEALTH MERRY=GO=ROUND CO., 
Depl.317 ■ • • QUINCY. ILL. 




IM'olJiily 



They're 

goir 

ont 

Celebrate in a safe and sane 
manner. The Brazel's bal- 
loons will be in every city. 
Get yours today. Send for 
this special trial outfit — 

Only $ I and Prepaid 

Consists of TEN large (good 
sailing) balloons. Each 4 1-2 ft. 
high complete for ascension, in- 
cluding directions, our patent 
inflators and asbestos chimneys. 
A day's sport at small cost. Sent 
anywhere in U. S. upon receipt 
of $1.00. Illustrated catalog 5c 
THE BRAZFL SOT. MFG. CO. 
1739 Ella St., Cincinnati. O. 



22 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




Murray 

LANMANi 

Flo r idaWater 

This fragrant and refreshing 
toilet perfume, in use for a 
century, makes the daily bath 
a luxury and a supreme de- 
light. 

Leading Druggists sell it. 
Accept no Substitute ! 

Samples sent on receipt 
of six cents in stamps. 



Lanman & Kemp 

135 Water Street 

New York 




Extension Heel 

For Weak Arches 
and Ankles that "turn-in" 

Structural foot-weakness, affect- 
ing the arch and ankle, so prev- 
alent among growing boys and 
girls, is promptly corrected and 
relieved by wearing 

COWARD su a p r p c o h rt SHOES 

With COWARD EXTENSION Heel 

Made on a special Coward last that 
meets the needs of growing feet. 
They provide the needed help in a 
beneficial way, hold the arch in 
place, and steady the ankles. 

These shoes protect and benefit 
children's feet, and promote their 
shapely development. 

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) 



23 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 








Boys, Here's Glorious Fun! 



Can you want any better sport than rifle shoot- 
ing? The great out-doors, excitement of a 
closely contested match, gun butt cool against 
your cheek, lining up the sights — then proving 
your eye and nerve by scoring bullseye after 
bullseye! 

BOY SCOUT CARTRIDGES 



: * 



are half the fun because they make your aim confident and your 
score better. They're so accurate, sure-fire and clean to handle that 
Boys and Boy Scouts don't want anything else. 

Remember, Boy Scout Cartridges are primed with our famous non- 
mercuric priming that gives quicker ignition and longer life to your 
gun barrel, and are proved by careful tests to be the most accurate .22 
cartridge on the market. 

Wouldn't you like to know how Boy Scouts use them? How to 
shoot and handle a gun with safety ? Then sit right down and write 
your name and address on a postal or letter and say — 

Please send me "How to Use Fire Arms" 

This fascinating free book for boys will tell you and your parents how the use of 
Boy Scout Cartridges keeps boys out of mischief. How it builds character and health, 
develops the Scout spirit of preparedness, gives you manliness, courage, self-reliance, 
and is endorsed by teachers and physicians. Don't wait to enjoy this bully good sport. 
It's great. Write today. 

UNITED STATES CARTRIDGE COMPANY, Dept. 22, LOWELL, MASS. 



'J !', ill 



Harry Guthmann, age 16, New York. 
Laura Hill, age ig, Pennsylvania. 
Arthur Schwarz, age 15, New York. 
Arthur Newell Moore, age 11, Massachusetts. 
Elizabeth Gertsen, age 12, Colorado. 
Charlotte H. Skinner, age 15, New York. 
Nathan Green 3d, age 12, Tennessee. 
Dorothy M. Rogers, age 18, Massachusetts. 
Jean Flick, age 12, Germany. 
(See also pages 18 and 20.) 
NOTE: The Advertising Department is running another competition this month for you boys and girls. See rules on page 7. 



Tivo Second Prizes, $3.00 each: 

Gilbert King, age 14, Washington. D. C. 

Longshaw Porritt. age 17, Connecticut. 
Three Third Prizes, $2.00 each: 

Bessie H. Rockwocd, age 13, New York. 

Roger W. Clarke, age n, Massachusetts. 

Carol Crosman, age 13, Michigan. 
Ten Fourth Prizes, $1,00 each: 

Elizabeth M. Doane, age 15, Illinois. 



24 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



Wag is Bitten by a June-Bug 

Dear Girls and Boys! 

What do you s'pose I 've just been doing? 

Why bucketfuls of fun are brewing 
For you, — and where, you '11 surely guess. 

In the Woman's Home Companion? — Yes, — 
That 's where I 've been and I declare 

The things I saw just made me stare. 
Loose in a story, — (I 'm laughing yet) 

A Hippopotamus, first thing, I met. 
But the really best — the greatest fun 

You '11 find is on page twenty-one. 
When you see the Kutouts, I 've a feeling 

There 's going to be all sorts of squealing, 
For there, oh there 's a Kewpie Doll! 

Think of that girls, — think of that awhile! 
A Kewpie Kutout Doll, — why this 

Is quite too cute and sweet to miss! 
A little girl is with her too, 

The very little girl for you, — 
And next,, in verse you '11 read the news, 

The latest Kewpish plans and views, 
And farther on a tale is told 

"The Bells that brought the Fairy Gold." 
And though I know your Baby brothers 

And sisters outshine all the others 
The Home Companion Folks declare 

For "Better Babies" everywhere. 
"The tempting Ham and Chicken Dishes" 

Will bring the coldest chap to wishes. 
These, and the clothes for summer days 

Will come in for your mother's praise. 
But gracious! how the time is flying 

I can't tell all, there 's no use trying. 
The Kewps send love and bid me say 

You must send for the Kutouts right away. 
Remember! they 're waiting as sad as can be 

For you and the scissors to come and set them free. 
Send for them now, — that Doll is a duck! 

Here 's a whole heap of love and a parcel of luck. 

Yours lovingly, Wag. 

P. S. — As I was headed for St. Nick, to tell this news 
just double quick, the first thing I knew, something 
hit me and then, and then a June-Bug bit me. That 's 
the reason 'stead of me, my letter on this page you see. 

The Kewpie Kutouts — all in color — appear in every issue of the Woman's Home Companion. 
And so do Rose O'Neil's Kewpie verses. Get a copy of the June Woman's Home Com 
panion from your newsdealer, or send 15 cents to us and we will send you the June issue post- 
paid. There are lots of other interesting thing in this magazine for you and your mother — in 
fact, all the family. The Kewpie Kutouts have fronts and backs, and when cut out and pasted 
together make lovely paper dolls. You can have all sorts of fun with the Kewpies, and you 
should have the whole collection. 

WOMAN'S HOME COMPANION, 381 Fourth Avenue, NEW YORK 




25 



ST. NICHOLAS STAMP PAGE 



1 



OUR ILLUSTRATIONS 

THIS month we illustrate first another of the new 
series of India. This time it is the four-annas 
value ; printed in a soft olive-green, it makes a very 



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tmM 




fir 




pH 


' ' 1 








I ■ 




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'ft* 
















. Tf 




y&0 


JS" '■ r nf ! r'' 


< y 






lm 


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>& 




Zm'M^\* 


UsSr 


| 0L*p.»— 


----- 


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beautiful stamp. Our second illustration pictures 
the much-heralded new Chinese set. This country 
gives us two sets, one in commemoration of the 
revolution, the other celebrating the advent of the 
republic. Both are issued in a series of the same 
values, running from one cent to five dollars. The 
two series are alike in color, and very similar in 
design. There are, however, two differences ; one 
is the last word in the bottom label, which on. one is 
republic, on the other revolution ; and the other is 
the head in the center. On the series of the revolu- 
tion is the likeness of Dr. Sun Yat Sen, who is the 
Chinese "Father of his Country" ; while on the sec- 
ond set is the portrait of the President of the 
Republic, President Yuan Shi Kai. These com- 
memorative stamps are not intended as a permanent 
issue. They are to be withdrawn from circulation 
in July. We also illustrate the new one-penny 
stamp of the Australian Commonwealth. After 
all the talk of design and color 
which has been going on for the 
past few years, collectors are 
doomed to bitter disappointment. 
Great things had been expected. 
We all had looked forward 
hopefully to a design which, for 
beauty and excellence, should 
rival even the early stamps of 
the confederating colonies. And 
now comes this which we illus- 
trate. The design is an outline 
map of the Australias, upon which appears the 
crudely drawn figure of a kangaroo. The engraving 
is on a parity with some of the cheap lithographs of 
South American States. We predict that severe 
criticism will greet the appearance of this much- 
heralded stamp. 

THE COMING EXHIBITION 

^pHERE is to be held in New York City, from 
J. October 27 to November 1, 1913, a competitive 
stamp exhibition. It is to be under the auspices of a 
recently formed organization called the "Association 
for Stamp Exhibitions, Inc." Any one can join the 
association upon payment of an assessment or dues 
amounting to one dollar. Practically all the dealers 
in the country are members, as well as many collec- 
tors, representing all grades from the experienced 
specialist to the beginner with only a few hundred 
stamps. All are eligible to membership ; indeed, 




Class K is called the "Juvenile Class," and is limited 
to exhibitors under eighteen years of age. The 
coming exhibition has been indorsed by the various 
stamp societies the world over, and it is expected 
that it will prove to be the largest and most success- 
ful of its kind ever held anywhere. Many of the 
world-famous collections will be represented, either 
wholly or in part, and probably not in a long while 
will one have an opportunity to see so many and 
such famous philatelic gems assembled together and 
so near home. 

The exhibition will be held in the Engineering 
Societies Building, Nos. 25—33 West Thirty-ninth 
Street, the building given by Andrew Carnegie to 
the Engineering Societies. All manner of precau- 
tions will be taken to guard the treasures gathered 
here. Watchmen will be on guard day and night, 
and insurance taken out covering loss by fire and 
theft. About four thousand dollars has been raised 
so far, by dues and voluntary subscriptions, toward 
the necessary expenses of the show. 

Among other contributions was one sent by a 
well-known bank-note company in New York City. 
This firm presented to the association thousands of 
pasters for use in advertising the exhibition. These 
pasters, unquestionably the most beautiful thing of 
the kind ever gotten out, bear in the center a copy 
of Stuart's Washington ; above are the words "Inter- 
national Philatelic Exhibition," below, "New York," 
while at the sides appear the numerals of the date 
19—13. This beautiful label, nearly four times as 
large as an ordinary stamp, was printed in six colors. 
It was the intention of the management to present a 
set to each member of the association, and more to 
the larger contributors. After most of them had 
been distributed, the attorney-general of the Govern- 
ment astonished every one connected with the 
issuing of the paster by declaring it to be so close 
a resemblance to a stamp as to be dangerous, and 
ordered the plates seized. Arguments availed noth- 
ing, and the plates were given up. Many collectors 
put a specimen in their collections, partly because of 
the beauty of the paster, and partly because of the 
notoriety attached to it. 

Other donations have been mainly in money or in 
prizes for competitors. The exhibits have been di- 
vided into fourteen classes, and various cups and 
medals will be awarded in each class. Each visitor 
will be given a ticket on which to designate the ex- 
hibit which to him is most interesting. This ticket 
he leaves with an attendant, and the exhibit men- 
tioned on the most tickets will receive a special 
prize, called the "Visitor's Cup." Not only will 
there be stamps rare enough to repay a visit to the 
hall, but also it is expected that there will be in 
operation many machines showing the entire process 
of making J;hese little bits of paper which are our 
joy and delight. 



TO 



ANSWERS TO QUERIES 
ULGARIA, Scott's Nos. 23 and 25 ; also 24 



tion below the line. In the one-stotinka there is a 
difference in the spelling, and in the two-stotinki the 
third letter of the first word is formed differently. 



Z2Z2Z22ZZSZ22ZZZ22Z2Z2Z22Z2ZS22S2Z222222ZZZZZ22ZZ22SZZZZ 



26 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



ST. NICHOLAS STAMP DIRECTORY 



THF IMPFRTAT STAMP ALBUM publishe 
* "^ *«" i-iIYli^VJ-i beginners. The best on the 



bed for 
beginners. The 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 $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 105 all different Genuine Stamps, inch 
/^Efev Rhodesia, Congo (tiger), China (dragon), Tasmania 

/22|^Sm (landscape), Jamaica (waterfalls), etc., only 10c. 200 

[■I ipj diff.Japan, India, N.Zld., etc., 15c. Agents Wanted.50%. 

VMbJrE// Big bargain list, coupons, etc., all P'ree] We Buy 
\Sgg»' Stamps. C. E. Hussman Stamp Co., 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. 

RARE Stamps Free. 15 all different, Canadians, and 10 India, 
■jfpSjs. with Catalogue Free. Postage 2 cents. If possible send 
/{Gjf^&xk names and addresses of two stamp collectors. Special 
(Ml JM offers, all different, contain no two alike. 50 Spain, 
WkJfMf llc - ;4 " Japan, 5c; 100 U. S.,20c; 10 Paraguay, 7c; 17 
WtS?' Mexico, 10c; 20Turkey, 7c; 10 Persia, 7c. ;3 Sudan, 5c; 
V «*S*' lOChile, 3c;50 Italy, 19c; 200 Foreign, 10c; 10 Egypt, 
7c; 50 Africa, 24c; 3 Crete, 3c; 20 Denmark, 5c; 20 Portugal, 6c; 7 
Siam, 15c;10 Brazil, 5c; 7 Malay, 10c; 10 Finland, 5c; 50 Persia, 
89c; 50 Cuba, 60c; 6 China, 4c; 8 Bosnia, 7c. Remit in Stamps or 
Money-Order. Fineapproval sheets 50% Discount, 50 Page List 
Free. Marks Stamp Company, Dept. N, Toronto, Canada. 



To All Prize Winners 

ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE 

We are going to give you an opportun-ty 
to begin your business life by competing 
for the $ i o prize offered for the best head- 
ing to be used in one of our advertising 
sections. See page 7 for particulars. 




1000 Different 5&K*££}SK! $30 for $1.75 

500 different $ .45 I Hayti, 1904 Complete 6 Var. $ .15 

200 " .09 Abyssinia, 1895 " 7 " .45 

12 " Bermuda .25 | Nyassa, Giraffes, '01 " 13 " .25 
Gold California %\, each 35c; $1, each 65c; 25 diff. Foreign 
Coins, 25c Jos. F. Negreen, 8 East 23d St., New York City. 

CW A DC 200 ALL DIFFERENT FOREIGN STAMPS 
Jl-miT J foronlylOc. 65 All Dif. U. S. including old issues 
of 1853-1861, etc.; revenue stamps, jil.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 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 1000 Finely 
Mixed, 20c 65 different U. S v 25c 1000 hinges, 5c I 
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 (SS| 
bargains 2c. Agts., 50%. Bullard & Co., Sta. A, Boston. SSI 

C VARIETIES PERU FREE. 

** With trial approval sheets. F. E. Thorp, Norwich, N.Y. 

RARCLAINS EACH SET 5 cents. 

D/*.I\VJ/^11^0 jo 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. 

Your Choice of these Stamps Free! 

No stamp collector can afford to collect without MykeeV s 
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? MykeeV 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 nice 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. 

Mykeel's Weekly Stamp News Boston, Mass. 




'RANGER w BICYCLESi 



Are equipped with punct 
lire-proof tires, imported 
.roller chains, imported Eng- 

_ - _ __ ..__._ lish flanged sprockets, 

English featherweight steel mud guards, imported Brampton pedals, motor style saddles, bars and grips, and other 

distinctive features possessed by no other bicycle. No effort or expense has been spared to make the 1913"Ranger" the 

World's Best Bicycle. Improved factory methods and greatly increased output for 1913 enable us to make a marvelous 

new price offer. Something very special to the first purchasers of 1913 Models in each town. Write us about it today. 

WE CUID flfc9 ADSROiUAl without a cent in advance, to any person, anywhere in the United states, and 

WtC vifllr UH fir V nU W AL prepay thefreight. We only ask you to examineand try the "Ranger" without 

a cent of expense to yourself before you think of buying any other bicycle. 

I fl I1AYC EREE TRIA1 is allowed on every "Ranger" bicycle. Not a cent cost to you if you do not wish 
IV lift I w rllCC I nlHL to keep it after riding It for todays and putting it to every test. Our "Ranger" 
bicycles are of such high quality, handsome appearance and low price that we are willing to ship to you. prepaid, 
let you examine and try one and leave it entirely to you whether you wish to keep it or not. 

■ AU CAPTARY DRIPEC 0ur Sreat output, perfected methods and machinery enable us toofferyou 
LUfff IHV I Un I rllllfkv direct from the factory the best bicycle ever produced at a price tnat will be a 
revelation to you. Do not buy a Bicycle or a pair of Tires until you receive our large, complete catalog and learn 
our direct factory price and remarkable special offer. SECOND-HAND BICYCLES— a limited number taken in 
trade by our Chicago retail stores will be closed out atonce. at $3 to $8 each. Descriptive bargain list free. 
RIPER AOEfclTC WAMTEft In every town and localty to ride and exhibit a sample 1913 "Ranger" blcvcle 
lllll En HUCII I w nfill I CU furnished by us. In your spare time you can take many orders for our bicycles, 
tires and sundries. Write at once for our large Catalog and a remarkable special proposition we will make you 
on the first 1913 models going to your town. 

rear wheels with coaster brake, inner tubes, lamps, cyclometers, parts, repairs and everything in the bicycle line 
>■ at half usual prices. Do not wait— write today for large catalog containing a great fund of interesting, UBeful 

SSE^.w3£iE££ MEAD CYCLE CO., Dept. T-272 CHICAGO 

27 



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. 



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 outfits — here. 

Satisfaction guaranteed. Write 

for illustrated catalog. 

BELLE MEADE FARM 
Dept. 9 Markham, Va. 




SHETLAND PONIES 

Carefully trained for children's safety. Only 
gentle, highly-bred registered ponies in our 
herd. Champion stock, all colors and sizes. 

SUNSET HILL FARM 
F. E. Latham, Mgr. PORTSMOUTH, N. H. 



Money iitSquabs ^i 



Learn this immensely rich business I 
■ :.3£ : ;.J] we teach you; easy work at home; I 
everybody succeeds. Start with our 
Jumbo Homer Pigeons and your success is assured. 
Send for large Illustrated Book. Providence 
Squab Company, Providence, Rhode Island. 



K?.£S Bird Houses 

Bird Baths and Feeders 

Prices, 50c. to $500 

Illustrated Catalogue on request 

ARTHUR G. HOWES 

91 Hope Street Stamford, Conn. 




Airedale Terriers 

Most popular do? 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. 



JUST OUT 



Try SPRATT'S KENNEL MIDGET BISCUITS 

If you want to give your dog a treat. 

Send 2c. stamp for ' 'Dog Culture. " 

SPRATT'S PATENT LIMITED, Newark, N. J. 




Scottish Terriers 



Offered as 



companions, 
given to fighting or roaming 
Best for children's pets. 
NEWCASTLE KENNELS 
Brookline, Mass. 



Hints for Vacation 

Rover is waiting for you. His kind brown 

eyes are asking you to go for a romp with 

him across the fields of waving daisies. He 

is wagging his tail now, ready to start at your 

word. And there is Jyp who plunges boldly 

into the water to get the stick you threw out. 

He '11 bring it to you, shake himself, and then scamper madly off down the road. At night 

how safe you feel with two faithful dogs to watch and guard you. I know several Rovers 

and Jyps who are all ready to come to you whenever you send for them. 

There is a boy lives down the road who built a fine poultry house this year — 
and built it all h,mself. His sister helps him feed and care for the pigeons and chickens. 
They have lots of fun and make a tidy little sum selling eggs and squabs to the neighbors. 
He 's saved enough to buy a dear little Shetland pony. Next year he is going to keep 

rabbits — pure white ones, he says, with pretty pink 
eyes. 

Of course he 's a St. Nicholas boy and of course 
the Pet Department helps him whenever he needs it. 
Have you decided what kind of pet you are going 
to have this summer and where to get it ? I know 
where there are several ponies, birds, dogs, and cats 
waiting for owners. 

Write me if you want help of any kind. 

Manager. Pet Department. 

28 



Not 




ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




n"||| MINII'M lilliMP 

Bait Casting Rods 

If you've never felt the 
thrill of pleasure that goes with 
casting a lure, in a sweeping, 
graceful curve, straight to its mark 

— you have missed a piece of keen fun. For 

pleasure, health and freedom from worry 

you can't beat it. 

|^§>) "BRISTOL" No. 28 is the new Light 

-\__r--' Bait Casting; Rod. Weighs about 5 oz., but 

kl_5w stands up like a "major," in a hot fight. 

Nos. 25, 27 and 33 are liked by both "old 

timers'" and beginners because, among other 

qualities, the large guides and tip insure such 

a free-running line. 

Ask your dealer to show you any of the 
above rods. If he doesn't happen to have the 
one you want in stock, we will supply you. 
Send for 

CATALOG-FREE. 
(illustrated below.) 

HORTON MFG. CO. 

' 167Korion St. Bristol, Conn. 




Instant Control! 




THE CORBIN 

Duplex Coaster Brake 

Enables bicycle riders to avoid sudden acci- 
dents or collisions. Operated instantly by the 
pedal. The standard of safety, reliabilitv and 
control. Invaluable for touring. Corbin 
Two-Speed brake is an immense assistance on 
steep up-grades or against strong head winds. 
Greatly appreciated by elderly riders. 

Either of these brakes fitted to your 
wheel at any bicycle repair shop. 

Send for 1913 free catalog showing 
all Corbin Brakes, Hubs and Axles 

Corbin Screw Corporation Division 

(American Hardware Corporation) 

306 High Street New Britain, Conn. 

Licensed Coaster Brake M anufarture*t 



$&$ wjk 




—i< v 



Hundreds of violets have 
contributed their sweetness 

to the purest and safest of infant powders. 

We have added to our powder Nature's most 
dainty and refreshing perfume — the scent of 
sweet violets. If you pressed the very essence 
of the flowers themselves over your skin. 
the'effect could not be more delightful. 
Mennen's Violet Talcum is borated and 
properly medicated so that it 

soothes and comforts the skin and relieves 
the irritation and annoyances due to per- 
spiration. 

It relieves the rawness and chafing so com- 
mon in summer and, at the same time, 
removes the unattractive shine produced 
by perspiration. 

Dust your body all over with it after your bath. 
Put it on your shields, in your stockings, etc. 
For sale everywhere, 25c, or by mail postpaid. 

Sample postpaid for 4- cents. Address 
Gerhard Mennen Co., Newark, N. J. 

Mennen's Violet 

Talcum Toilet Powder 

(Borated) 




29 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



kF 



Alexander gave me a 
peek into his letter file 

Alexander called me up on the 'phone the other day, and told me he had something he 
wanted to show me. When I got down to his office, he opened up a big letter file, and 
said that if I would be real good he would show me something that would please me. 

And what I saw certainly made me happy. 

There were some of those dandy letters which you boys and girls had written 
about that Nobby Tread tire advertisement which appeared in the February issue. 

You ought to hear all the fine things that were said about that advertisement 
and that tire. 



m 



One young man certainly knew what he 
was talking about when he wrote this: 

"I think that the advertisement of the 

United States Nobby Tread is the best. 

" The Nobby Tread has saved a great many 

lives, both on autos and bicycles, because 

they stop autos and bicycles from skidding 

on wet pavements. 

"I think that every person — man, woman, or 

child — ought to have Nobby Treads on his 

or her bicycle, auto, or motorcycle, because 

they insure their safety. 

"I think that every Mother and Father will 

agree with me because they feel their boys 

or girls are safer with Nobby Treads than 

with the common smooth tire." 

And if you live where the roads are oily, 
you can sympathize with the boy who 
wrote this : 

"I think that the advertisement about the 
Nobby Tread bicycle tires in the February 
issue of St. Nicholas is the most interest- 
ing one in that magazine. I ride my bi- 
cycle a great deal during the summer months, 
and as tr>2 roads about are well oiled I have 
great difficulty in not skidding. After a rain 
it is especially bad going around curves, as 
the smooth tires invariably skid. 
' ' That was last summer. This summer I ex- 
pect to get a pair of Nobby Tread bicycle 
tires, and thus equipped I don't think I will 
have any more trouble in the skidding line. " 

Can you imagine how pleased I was to have 
this young lady say such fine things about 
our tires : 

"I found the advertisement for Nobby 
Treads the most interesting, because I have 
experienced the sensation of finding myself 
unexpectedly on the ground when my bi- 
cycle slipped. I think these tires will be a 
great improvement. On wet and slippery 
pavements, unless there is something to pre- 
vent it, bicycles very often skid. 
"This advertisement ought also to interest 



Mothers and Fathers, because if their chil- 
dren had Nobby Tread tires on their wheels 
there would not be any danger of the bicycle 
slipping under the wheels of any vehicle 
suddenly." 

And this boy came right out and said that 
next time he would buy Nobby Treads. 
Of course this pleased me greatly : 

' ' Last summer I learned to ride a bicycle. 
My father soon got me one, but the tires are 
not much good, so, of course, I like the 
United States Nobby Tread Tires best. 
One thing I like is the ridges and knobs 
which prevent skidding. The next time I 
buy tires I will remember the Nobby Tread. ' ' 

Another letter came from a boy who al- 
ready knew just what a wonderful tire the 
Nobby Tread really is. Evidently his father 
owns an automobile and uses Nobby Treads : 

"I think the advertisement of the Nobby 

Tread is the most interesting. It shows the 

construction of the tire — a very interesting 

subject. 

"If the new bicycle tire is as good as the 

Nobby Tread automobile tire it will be a 

step in the advancement of cycling." 

There were a lot more just as good as these. 
I wish I could take each one of you by the 
hand and thank you for them. They showed 
us pretty plainly that we were on the right 
track when we put that Nobby Tread bi- 
cycle tire on the market. 
And I can say this frankly to you boys and 
girls who have written these fine letters, and 
to all you other ST. NICHOLAS friends, 
that when you buy a Nobby Tread tire, or in 
fact any kind of a United States Tire, for 
your bicycle, or when your father or brother 
buys a United States Tire for his automobile 
or motorcycle, you are going to find it just 
as good as the advertisements say it is. 




This is the tire 
they are talking 
about. 



From 

The Man Who Writes 
The United States Tire 
Company Advertisements 



M 



30 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




I 



§ 



Why 
Maroon? 



Nearly every milk chocolate for sale in this country has 
a maroon label. There must be some good reason why 
this color has been adopted by manufacturers. It is 



Because 




maroon is the standard color. It is the standard color be- 
cause it has been used from the start by the manufacturers 
of Peter's Milk Chocolate, the standard milk chocolate. 



Peter's, the original milk chocolate, is the 
only one of international reputation, unvary- 
ing high quality, and of a flavor which has 
been generally imitated but never equalled. 



Be sure to get Peter's when 
you ask for milk chocolate. 




"High as the Alts in Quality " 



^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^M 



31 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




A Little Story That Could Be True 

§NCE upon a time there was a good nymph called "The Spirit of 
sR Cleanliness." Her work was to keep the world bright and beautiful. 
©^sg'But she was so mild and timid that her enemy, a bold, bad elf called 
"The Spirit of Dirt" kept her from doing her work. 

At last in despair, she decided that the only way to succeed was to conceal 
herself in such a way that she could work away unrecognized by The Spirit of 
Dirt. So she vanished into a cake of Ivory Soap. 

That is why Ivory Soap is so mild and pure and why it cleanses so beautifully. 
The Spirit of Cleanliness is in every cake because she can be everywhere at the 
same time. In this way she does the work she loves. 

Of course, you see only the soap and the work which she makes the soap 
do, but sometimes, when you are not looking, she comes forth to rejoice at her 
success as you see her in the picture. 

IVORY SOAP 99»* PURE 



32 




Food Products 



Have you ever noticed how 
much more delicious everything 
seems to taste at a picnic? There's a 
tang — a piquancy — a satisfying "smack" 
that only out-o'-doors seems able to give. 




And that's just the taste that has won for Libby's Ready-to- 
Serve Foods the wonderful popularity they have. For Libby 
chefs know just how to get that out-o'-doors spiciness into every 
food they cook. 

Getting ready for picnics or cooking in camp, is no end of fun 
when you use Libby's Foods. And the cooking for the family 
becomes infinitely easier, too. 

For the variety of Libby's Foods enables 
you to have many charming menus. And the 
convenience of serving them, just as they come 
from the cans, does away with the long, dis- 
agreeable hours in a hot kitchen. 



Veal Loat 
Olives 



Boneless Chicken 
Deviled Meats 



Dried Beef 
Pickles 



Libby, McNeill & Libby, Chicago 



■i 



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15 



f :f?fe 



TN 1847 

■*■ silver plate was 

an experiment, but the 

test of time has proved the 

value of the discovery made by 

Rogers Bros. The quality of this first 

and genuine electro-silver plate is still 

to be found in the original brand 

1847 ROGERS BROS. 

"Silver Plate that Wears ' ' 

The characteristic beauty of this ware is 
well illustrated in the "Old Colony" and 
"Cromwell" patterns, which preserve the charm 
and simplicity of early designs, but are rich 
and refined in the finish that modern crafts- 
manship supplies. 

Like all 1847 ROGERS BROS, silverware, they are made 
in the heaviest grade of silver plate, and are backed 
by the largest makers with an unqualified guarantee 
made possible by an actual test of over 65 years. 

Send 



Sold by leading dealers everywhere, 
illustrated catalogue "F-5." 



fc 



INTERNATIONAL SILVER COMPANY 

SUCCESSOR TO MER1DEN BRITANNIA CO. 

MERIDEN, CONN. 

New York Chicago San Francisco 

Hamilton, Canada 

The World's Largest Makers of Sterling Silver and Plate. 



OLD COLONY 



CROMWELL 



HE "OUTDOOR BOYS' CLUB" AND "THE MAJOR'S BOYS" 

ol. XL, No. 9 |UL I , lVlo PRICE, 25 CENTS 

ST NICHOLAS 

LLUSTRATED MAGAZINE 

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 




# FREDERICK WARNE & CO • BEDFORD ST • STRAND • LONDON St 

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. 




To gain the votes of Spotless Town, the Mayor beamed at Mrs. Brown. 
Her candid way shut off debate : she promptly flashed her candidate. 
As he reflects, of course he'll know 
She must have used 



m 



Three household problems — with one answer 



Suppose you must clean 
grimy floors, or dirty shelves, 
or a dingy kitchen. How can 
you freshen them up with a 
quick cleaner that wont waste? 

Answer — Use SAP OLIO. 

(It cleans economically.) 

Suppose you have a drawer 
full of kitchen knives, forks 
and spoons that demand quick 
scouring. How can you re- 
move the dullness and rust? 

Answer— Use SAPOLIO. 

(It scours thoroughly.) 



Suppose you wish to polish 
tins, and thoroughly remove 
grease from your enamelled 
utensils and crockery without 
marring the smooth surfaces. 
What should you do? 

Answer— Use SAPOLIO. 

(It polishes brilliantly. Its suds 
thoroughly remove grease. ) 

You rub just the amount of 
Sapolio you need on a damp 
rag. Not a particle scatters 
or wastes. 



Our Spotless Town booklet will be mailed upon request. 



Enoch Morgan's Sons Company Sole Manufacturers New York City 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




Take a Victrola with you 
when you go away this summer 

Whether you go to the country, mountains, or sea- 
shore for the summer, or just camp out for a week or so, 
you'll be glad of the companionship of the Victrola. 

This wonderful instrument enables you to take with you 
wherever you go the most celebrated bands, the greatest opera 
artists, the most famous instrumentalists, and the cleverest 
comedians — to play and sing for you at your leisure, to provide 
music for your dances, to make your vacation thoroughly enjoyable. 

And even if you don't go away, a Victrola will entertain you 
and give you a delightful "vacation" right at home. 

There are Victors and Victrolas in great variety of styles from $10 to $500. 

Any Victor dealer in any city in the world 
will gladly play your favorite music and demonstrate 
the Victrola to you. 

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, 5 cents per 100 

Victor Fibre Needles, 50 cents per 100 (can be repointed and used eight times 

New Victor Records are on sale at all dealers on the 28th of each month 




ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




^ ^ Nearly 50 years of success 



X 



0) 



a; 

QQ 
3 

oc 

O 
O 



0) 



AMellin s Food 





Boy 



6arle /tester Oington 
<5on of <Sar/e X. Ovin^ton 
America's {Peerless ^Aviator 




"Since giving Kester Mellin's Food he has gained steadily, 
half a pound a week, and the entire absence of digestive trouble 
leads to the conclusion that my confidence in Mellin's Food is 
well placed." _^^ DuA^ 

West Newton, Mass. 

Buy a bottle of Mellin's Food today and 
start your baby on the road to health. 

Write for our instructive book, 

"The Care and 
Feeding of Infants." 

Mellin's Food Company, Boston, Mass. 



"^ ^ 61 medals and diplomas awarded ^ ^ 




[The entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission. ) 

CONTENTS OF ST. NICHOLAS FOR JULY, 1913. 

Frontispiece. "There was an old woman lived under a hill, 
And if she 's not gone, she lives there still." 
Painted for St. Nicholas by Arthur Rackham. Page 

A Brave Little Maid of New France. Story Hannah Bryant 769 

Illustrated by Norman Price. 

California's Outdoor Boys' Club. Sketch Day Allen Willey 776 

Illustrated from photographs. 

The Major's Boys. Sketch Eloise Roorbaen 779 

t Illustrated from photographs. 

Roads. Verse Miriam Clark Potter 734 

With picture from painting by Charles C. Curran. 

Percy Ray's Trick Boat. Story Nathan Haskell Dole 785 

Illustrated by I. W. Taber. 

Beatrice of Denewood. Serial Story I ^ Ule A Be + n , son 1 ? nlpe and I 791 

Illustrated by C.M.Relyea. ' 1 Alden Arthur Knlpe f 

Mister Rat. Verse James Rowe 798 

Illustrated by Reginald Birch. 
Managers and Their Work. (The Great American Came — Third Paper. ) C. H. Claudy 799 

Illustrated from photographs. 

Shoot-'Em-on-a-Rock. Story Izola Forrester 805 

Illustrated by John Edwin Jackson. 

Daisy " Cuttings " for July. Picture. Drawn by Grace M. Buck 807 

The Nobel Prizes for the Promotion of Peace. Sketch Dorothy Dudley Leal 808 

Illustrated from photograph. 

The Clever Flamingos. Pictures. Drawn by DeWitt Clinton Falls 810 

The Land of Mystery. Serial Story Cleveland Moffett 812 

Illustrated by Jay Hambidge. 

The Difficulties Of Mary, the Cook. Picture. Drawn by C. M. Relyea 819 

The Other Cherry-Pie. Verse, illustrated by the Author Anna May Cooper 820 

" Seeing the World." Picture. Drawn by Gertrude A. Kay . 821 

With Men Who Do Things. Serial A. Russell Bond 822 

Illustrated by photograph and diagrams. 

A Gay Vacation Song. Verse Louise Seymour Hasbrouck . . 828 

" So Many Relatives." Verse, illustrated by the Author George o. Butler 829 

Garden-Making and Some of the Garden's Stories: III. The Story 

of the Rebels who are Never Tamed and the Keepers of the Peace. Grace Tabor 830 

"Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary." Picture. Drawn by Frances 

Evans Ingersoll 833 

Risks of Photographing Battle-Ships in Action. Sketch e. Mulier, Jr 834 

Illustrated from photographs. 

Books and Reading Hildegarde Hawthorne 838 

Illustrated by R. B. Birch. 

For Very Little Folk: 

How Little Bear Went to a Picnic. Story Frances Margaret Fox 841 

Illustrated by G. A. Harker. 

Nature and Science for Young Folks, illustrated 844 

St. Nicholas League. With Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems, 

Drawings, Photographs, and Puzzles. Illustrated 852 

The Letter-Box 861 

The Riddle-Box 862 

St. Nicholas Stamp Page Advertising page 20 

The Century Co. and its editors receive mamtscripts and crt material, submitted for publication, only on the understanding that they s/ia/l 
not be responsible /or loss or injury thereto while in their possession or in transit. Copies of manuscripts should be retained by the authors. 
In the United States and Canada, the price of The St. Nicholas Magazine is $3.00 a year in advance, or 25 cents a 
single copy, without discount or extra inducement of an/ kind. Foreign postage is 60 cents extra when subscribers abroad wish the 
magazine mailed directly from New York to them. We request that remittance be by money order, bank check, draft, or registered letter. 
The Century Co. reserves the right to suspend any subscription taken contrary to its selling terms, and to refund the unexpired credit. 
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 75 cents per part, or $1.50 for the complete volume. (Carriage extra.) In sending the numbers to us. they should be dis- 
tinctly marked with owner's name. Bound volumes are not exchanged for numbers. PUBLISHED MONTHLY. 

\\m t itM w Try t cwnuTu m-rvi-i ,,„■■ . ■ „■ , ■ ■■ . m ^ .. WILLIAM W. ELLSWORTH, Pie sident 

IRA H BRAIN™ ' THE CENTURY CO. IRA H. BRAINERD, Vice-President 

rPORTF INVFSS Ip TT • o -»t -rr i »t tt DONALD SCOTT. Treasurer 

GEORGE INNESS, JR. UniOn Square, NeW York, N. Y. JOSIAH J. HAZEN. Ass't Treasurer 

trustees i DOUGLAS Z. DOTY, Secretary 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




*i These boys and girls have hurried up to see what is on the St. Nicholas Bulletin. Presently they will go 
and tell their friends about the treats in St. Nicholas, and their friends will ask their parents to subscribe. 
<J St. Nicholas is counting on you for six new friends. 



away 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 




All about the World's Base-ball Series that 
now are seen by over 250,000 people. 








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I St. Nicholas in 1913 is a better comrade than ever for boys and girls of all ages. Beside the splendid serials 
iere will be scores of short stories, jolly jingles, beautiful pictures, and interesting, valuable articles. 
[ Three dollars a year. The Century Co., Union Square, New York. 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 

mi n mi iiinin muni II I Ill mi in Ill HI II 1 1 1 1 1 



BE SURE THE VACATION TRUNKS HAVE PLENTY OF BOOKS 



By that Magician of Story-tellers, Rudyard Kipling 
The Jungle Book — The Second Jungle Book 

There are no books to take their place — no books so rich in the magic and mystery of the 
great open and its life. Both with interesting illustrations. Price, each, $1.50. 

The Jungle Books are issued also in a beautiful new edition, printed on thin but opaque 
paper, and bound in flexible red leather. Price $1.50 net, each, postage 8 cents. 



Ernest Thompson Seton's Noble Books 

The Biography of a Grizzly 
The Biography of a Silver Fox 



True stories — we have Mr. Seton's word for that — of animals who are almost human ; but they 
have the magic of imagination flavoring every page. The pictures — Mr. Seton's own — make 
the books a constant joy. Price, each, $1.50. 

Every Boy Should Have These 

The Wireless Man 

By Francis Arnold Collins 

Every lad, of every age, who has dabbled a little in the magic of Wireless will find this just the 
book he has wanted. Many illustrations, from photographs full of action and interest. 

Price $1.20 net, postage 11 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 ex- 
perimenting. 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 

A book which gets at the heart of the great American game, and tells of it from a boy's stand- 
point — every page snappy and alive. The author himself is "crazy about base-ball." Many 
pictures from photographs. Price $1.50 net, postage 11 cents. 

Balph Henry Barbour's 

Entertaining and Wholesome Books 

There are seven of them — Crofton Chums — Team-Mates — Kingsford, Quarter — The Crimson 
Sweater — Tom, Dick, and Harriet — Captain Chub — Harry's Island. 

Ralph Henry Barbour is the Prince of Story-tellers for American boys and girls ; and his acquaint- 
ance with the inner secrets of foot-ball and base-ball and boy and girl innocent nonsense makes 
them books of unfailingly delightful reading for young people everywhere. Price, each, $1.50. 

Box Furniture 

By Louise Brigham 

A book which means the best kind of fun on rainy days — telling just how to make, from 
material at hand, 100 simple, serviceable, artistic, and fascinating things in the furniture line. 
Helpful pictures. Price $1.60 net, postage 14 cents. 



All these books at your bookseller's, 
your summer home ? Published by 



Why not have a package made up and sent direct to 



THE CENTURY CO., New York 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 

■ IllllHil IIIIIIHI I I II Illllllllll HIIIIIHIH IIIHHHIIHIIII IIIIIIIIIIMIIIIHIHIIIIIIIII Ill Ill IIIIHIIIHIH ill Ill II 111 II 11111111 IIIHIIIIHIIIH Hill Ill Ill I B 



THESE ARE ALL BOOKS OF TRIED DELIGHT AND WORTH 



A splendid book for boys ! A splendid book for girls ! 

Hero Tales from American History 

By Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Cabot Lodge 

Twenty-six simply, sympathetically told stories of Americans whose lives showed that they 
knew how to live and how to die. Illustrated. Price $1.50. 

The Book of the Ocean 

By Ernest Ingersoll 

A veritable treasure-house of salt-flavored facts, fancies, and legends, full of fascinating in- 
formation concerning the plant and animal life of the salt waters. Every family by the sea- 
shore should have it. Full of pictures. Price $1.50. 

John Bennett's charming books 

Barnaby Lee 

Young folks who read this book will carry always a vivid picture of the people and life of the 
New World, especially of New Amsterdam, in the latter part of the seventeenth century. The 
pictures by Clyde O. De Land almost tell the story without words. Price $1.50. 

Master Skylark 

The story of a sweet little singing lad who became the companion of the great Will Shakspere, 
and who knew, as a humble subject may know, the immortal Queen Bess. The pictures by 
Reginald Birch are among the book's delights. Price $1.50. 

Frances Hodgson Burnett's 
Queen Silver-Bell Fairy Books 

Of all the delightful stories, by the author of "Little Lord Fauntleroy," for the young in heart, 
none is quite so deliciously whimsical and fascinating as her series of "Queen Silver-Bell" 
fairy tales— " Queen Silver-Bell," " The Cozy Lion," " Racketty-Packetty House," and "The 
Spring Cleaning " — 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. 

Exquisite little books, each with twenty delightful pictures in color by Harrison Cady. 
Price 60 cents each. 

Palmer Cox's Brownie Books 

are an unfailing source of delight to the little folk of the picture-book and jingle age. There 
are ten of these books now, each a separate and complete delight. One will keep the small 
folk happy day after day. Price, each, $1.50. 

The Bound Volumes of St. Nicholas 

mean that there is always a treasure-house at hand to brighten the dullest, longest rainy day. 
Boys and girls, of all ages, and even grown-ups, love St. Nicholas. In two large, octavo, red 
and gold volumes, full to overflowing with pictures, $4.00. 

Your bookseller will show you these books. Why not tell him to send a package direct to your 
summer address ? Published by 

THE CENTURY CO., New York 



ST. NICHOLAS ADVERTISEMENTS 



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JJ 



... 






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Skin Energy 

The skin is an important contributor 
to the sum of human energy. So long 
as it is kept fresh, pure and healthy, it 
is an inspiriting and an invigorating 
influence; and the best known means 
of keeping it in that condition is to use 

Pears' Soap 

This completely pure soap, which has 
been the leading toilet soap for a hundred and 
twenty years, contains in perfect combination 
the precise emollient and detergent properties 
necessary to secure the natural actions of the 
various functions of the skin. 

There is a permanent feeling of freshness, 
briskness and vitality about a skin that is 
regularly washed with Pears. The skin sur- 
face is always kept soft and fine and natural. 
The skin is kept fresh and young looking 
by using Pears which lasts twice as 
long, so is twice as cheap as 
common toilet soaps. 



THE GREAT 

ENGLISH 

COMPLEXION 

SOAP 



TiBHBKiJEBi*. 







'Ail rights sec?*red" 

OF JiLL SCEMTED SOJIPS PEJtRS* OTTO OF ROSE IS THE BEST 




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f&ftji—aw,/- 'i'L ;, 



THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN LIVED UNDER A HILL." 

PAINTED FOR ST. NICHOLAS BY ARTHUR RACKHAM. 



ST. NICHOLAS 



Vol. XL 



JULY, 1913 



No. 9 






7¥l*>vaYe litrtepytcxidof Neuf France 



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The historical facts for this story are to be found in Parkmans " Frontenac and New France.'' 



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9 



N truth, my Madeleine, it is a temp- 
tation, and yet I fear to leave thee 
and thy brothers, mignonne." 

Mother and daughter sat in the 
low-ceiled, heavy-beamed room of 
the Manor of Vercheres in the year 
1692. The hand of Madame de Vercheres rested 
lightly on the dark curls of her fourteen-year-old 
daughter, seated on a low stool beside her ; but 
her eyes gazed wistfully out of the window where 
the waters of the St. Lawrence could be seen flow- 
ing swiftly by, the clear blue of the Canadian 
sky above, the glory of late October painting the 
trees of the forest. 

The seigniory of Vercheres was between Que- 
bec and Montreal, though nearer the latter place, 
whither, on the morrow, a boat was to go to 
bring back supplies against the long, cold winter. 
The temptation now offered to Madame de 
Vercheres was to go in the boat for a few days' 
visit with her sister. 

"Fear not for us, dear little Maman. Are we 
not well and strong, and am I not old enough to 
care for my two brothers?" 



Vol. XL.— 97. 



Copyright, 1913, by The Century Co. 
769 



' 'T is not that I doubt the discretion of thy 
great age, Madeleine," said her mother, with a 
low laugh ; "but with thy father away on his mili- 
tary service at Quebec, it seems not right for me, 
too, to leave thee, and go in the other direction." 

"T will do thee good, dear little Mother, and 
soon both thou and Father will return, and we 
will settle down for our long, cold winter. O-o-h ! 
how the thought of it makes me shiver ! I can 
hear the branches in the forest snapping with the 
cold, louder than the guns of the Iroquois ! 
Would it not be fine, dear Mother, if, instead of 
Father's coming home when his military duty is 
over, the governor should appoint him to be one 
of the gentlemen of his household, and we should 
all go to Quebec for the winter? Oh, how thou 
would'st shine at the balls and routs, my beautiful 
Mother ; and how gaily would I dance with the 
other maidens at the governor's court, and see 
almost the glories of the king at Versailles." 

"Foolish child, thy wild dreams run away with 
thee. Now listen, Madeleine. If I go and any 
illness comes or aught goes amiss, wilt thou send 
for our neighbor, Madame Fontaine ?" 

All rights reserved. 



)10 



A BRAVE LITTLE MAID OF NEW FRANCE 



[July, 



"Oh, Mother dear ! I had rather trust to the 
simples of the old squaw, Oneonta. Truly, 
Madame Fontaine is so timid, as are all women 
just come over from Paris, and old Oneonta is 
far wiser than she. Thou may'st safely trust us 
to her, and thou wilt go, wilt thou not?" 

"As I said at the first, 't is a temptation to 
make the journey ere the winter shuts us in. And 
perchance I can persuade thy Tante Madeleine to 
return with me for the winter. This is the twen- 
tieth of October. Yes, I will go, and stay but for 
the days of All Saints and All Souls. Yet tell 
me, Madeleine," Madame said, the mother's 
anxiety again gaining control, "tell me, if the 
Iroquois should come, what could'st thou do?" 

"Why, truly, none knowest better than thou, 
brave little Mother, that the best way to meet 
them is with boldness. So, if an Iroquois should 
come," cried the girl, gaily springing up and 
seizing a light cane standing in the corner, "I 
would point my gun at him — so ! — and then — 
bang.'— I would say, 'Avaunt, Monsieur Iroquois!' 
and off he would go." 

Preparations for a journey in those days were 
simple, and the next morning Madame de Ver- 
cheres waved a farewell from the boat, as it 
slipped away against the current, to her children, 
who had come down to the landing to see her off. 
Madeleine stood between her two little brothers, 
her arms thrown across their shoulders, and close 
behind them stood an old serving-man, Laviolette, 
his white hair blowing in the fresh morning 
breeze. 

When the boat had passed from sight, they 
turned from the landing, and made their way back 
to where the fort stood, encircled by a high 
stockade, although a leaning post here and there 
showed that it was not of recent building. Within 
the stockade stood a block-house, strongly forti- 
fied with bastions at each corner, as there were 
also at the corners of the fort. The place showed 
that it had been planned by a military man ; its 
general air of defense showed that it was built 
with the thought of an ever possible enemy ; yet a 
certain air of relaxed vigilance showed that, at 
present at least, the possible enemy was not con- 
sidered a probable one. 

Madeleine played merry games of soldiers with 
the boys, drilling them thoroughly, and planning 
delightful ambuscades in the odd nooks of the 
fort and the covered way which connected it with 
the block-house, until the short autumn day came 
to an end. Soon after sunset, the gate was closed 
and barred, and before long, all were asleep ; 
while the pines of the forest whispered their lull- 
aby, the waters of the St. Lawrence plashed and 
murmured throughout the night, and the hoot of 



the owls sounded, now on this side, now on that, 
of the lonely seigniory of Vercheres. 

When morning dawned, it was another clear 
October day. The habitants were early at work 
in the fields. Some of the soldiers (there were 
but a handful at the fort) went into the woods, 
hunting. Two of their number, La Bonte and 
Gachet, were left behind, sorely against their 
will ; but the Seignior de Vercheres was strict in 
his military discipline, and even in his absence the 
soldiers dared not leave the fort wholly unguarded, 
in spite of the apparent peace. So as the lot fell 
upon these two men, they stayed, though with an 
ill grace. Madeleine, leaving her two brothers at 
play within the fort, went again to the river-land- 
ing, attended by Laviolette, hoping that some 
passing canoe might bring some message from 
her father in Quebec, or of her mother's safe 
arrival in Montreal. Laviolette, having provided 
himself with a pole and line, stood placidly fish- 
ing, while Madeleine, seated on the edge of the 
little wharf, idly watched him. On the side of 
the river on which they were, the land was 
cleared for quite a distance in both directions. In 
the fertile meadows on the river's bank, the set- 
tlers could be seen at work, while nearer the fort 
stretched in a line the cottages of the habitants. 
On the other side, the forest rose in its primeval 
beauty, the dark pines mingling with the brilliant 
red and yellow foliage of the deciduous trees. 

Suddenly, from the borders of the fields where 
the men were working, came the sudden sharp 
crack of guns ; a habitant fell, then another. The 
quiet air was rent with the shriek of the piercing 
war-whoop, and from the woods which bordered 
the clearing burst a troop of Indians, hideous in 
their war-paint. 

"Quick, Mademoiselle,— the Iroquois ! they are 
upon us !" cried Laviolette, and seizing her arm, 
they fled together for the fort, fortunately for 
them a straight path, and not a long one. The 
light feet of the young girl and the long strides 
of the old man, who had been a famous runner in 
his youth, covered the ground so rapidly that the 
Indians soon saw that they could not capture the 
fugitives alive before the fort was reached, so 
they stopped in their headlong pursuit, and began 
firing. To the terrified girl, with the bullets sing- 
ing around her ears, the way seemed very long, 
and that her flying feet scarcely moved. 

"Father in heaven, save me — save us all !" she 
prayed, and at last reached the gate of the fort. 

Her two brothers, with grave, anxious faces, 
ran to meet her. 

"Oh, Madeleine, thou art safe ! We thought 
thou would'st be killed. Oh, if Father were 
here ! Tell us, Sister, what shall we do?" 



I9I3-] 



A BRAVE LITTLE MAID OF NEW FRANCE 



771 



"We will hold the fort for the king as Father 
would," she said bravely. "Listen well, boys, to 
what I say. Father says a French fort must 
never fall into the hands of the Iroquois, for if 
they capture one, they will think that they can 
take all ; and it will make them more bold, and 
insolent, and daring. Now you must each take a 



During this time, the savages had withdrawn. 
One would almost have thought the sudden, sharp 
onset had been some evil dream ; that the only 
reality was the clear, crisp morning with its 
floods of sunshine, and that all danger was over. 
But none of the Canadian pioneers were to be 
deceived by such seeming security. Too well they 




"TO THE TERRIFIED GIRL, WITH THE BULLETS SINGING AROUND HER EARS, THE WAY SEEMED VERY LONG. 



gun, and I will take one too, and we shall be such 
brave soldiers that the enemy will think we are 
many in the garrison, instead of so few." 

"But, Madeleine, Alexandre cannot have a 
gun!" Louis exclaimed, all the jealousy of the 
elder brother aroused. "Father said, when he 
had La Bonte teach him to shoot, that he was 
quite too young to be trusted with a gun alone." 

"Listen, Louis," Madeleine said, so gravely that 
the boy's petty resentment died away, "Alexandre 
may be too young to use a gun for sport, but this 
is not sport. It is a matter of life and death," 
and her face paled as she remembered that neither 
her girlhood, nor the youth of the brave lads - 
facing her, would protect them if they fell into 
the enemy's hands. "Remember that Father has al- 
ways taught you that gentlemen are born to shed 
their blood for the service of God and the king." 



knew the Iroquois habits, and that such retreat 
was but the lull before a fiercer storm. Child 
though she was, Madeleine Vercheres seized this 
respite to do what could be done to prepare for a 
fiercer attack. 

Hurrying on with the boys to the block-house, 
she found women and children who had rushed 
thither from their cottages for safety, huddled 
together, some of them rocking to and fro in a 
silent agony of grief, but most of them crying and 
screaming at the top of their lungs, in a panic of 
fear. 

"Hush, oh, hush !" she begged ; "be still ! Your 
clamor can be heard afar, and if the Iroquois 
should hear, they would know by your crying 
how frightened you are, and that would make 
them more bold. They are always afraid to at- 
tack a fort they think well defended, and we must 



772 



A BRAVE LITTLE MAID OF NEW FRANCE 



[July, 



make them believe we have a hundred soldiers." 
Then, flashing upon them a smile, which from 
her babyhood had won all hearts to do her bid- 
ding, she added, more gently, "We must all be 
brave together. You must pray, and my brothers 
and I will fight like men, and help will soon come." 

Then she left them, and went below to the place 
where the ammunition was stored. Here she found 
the two soldiers left behind by the hunting party, 
one hiding in a corner, the other with a lighted 
match in his hand, making his way toward where 
the powder was stored. 

"Gachet !" she called so suddenly that he 
dropped the match, "what are you going to do?" 

"Light the powder, and blow us all up out of 
the hands of those heathen," he answered. 

"You miserable coward !" she cried, stamping 
her foot on the match until the spark was 
quenched. "Are you a fool ? Think you that /, 
the daughter of the seignior of Vercheres, will 
give up this fort while one of us remains to de- 
fend it ? You are cowards, both of you. Come 
out of here, and help me do what must be done." 

Followed by them, she made the rounds of the 
stockade, finding several places where the ten- 
foot posts had fallen on the ground, leaving 
breaches by which the enemy could enter without 
hindrance. 

Tugging at the posts herself, helping to lift 
them with her brothers' aid, while the men dug 
new holes, settled the posts, and "tamped" them 
firmly into place, Madeleine at last felt that all 
had been done that could be to make the outer 
defenses secure. 

Laviolette, who had mounted the bastion near 
the gate, and was keeping a close watch on field 
and river, now reported a canoe coming rapidly 
toward the landing, containing the Fontaine fam- 
ily, seeking refuge in the fort. Madeleine called 
the two soldiers, and asked one of them to go to 
meet the little party of refugees; but both held 
back, making the excuse that it was their duty to 
stay within the fort, and not leave it without 
military protection. 

"Cowards again !" flashed forth Madeleine. 
"Then I shall go myself." 

"No, no, M'm'selle," hastily interposed old La- 
violette, "let me go. I cannot see my seignior's 
daughter go unprotected." 

"Not so, my good Laviolette," she answered. 
"We can spare but one from our small force in 
case anything happens, and you are far more 
valuable here than I, for you have a cool head to 
direct them, and have stood a siege before. The 
others are but frightened sheep." 

Then, as her little brothers clung to her, beg- 
ging her not to go, she said cheerily: 



"There is n't as much danger as you think, dear 
boys. If the savages see the gate of the fort 
opened, and one from within going calmly to meet 
the new-comers, they will feel that our numbers 
are strong, and that it is a ruse to tempt them 
to come over to attack us, and that while they 
are rushing upon us, a force from the fort will 
come out and destroy them." 

Laviolette nodded his head gravely. 

"M'm'selle has read the mind of the Iroquois. 
That is what they will think," he agreed, "else 
would I never suffer her to go alone." 

"Stand here at the gate, little brothers, with 
guns cocked, and Laviolette will keep good watch 
from the bastion ; and when we reach that white 
stone just there, open the gate, that there may be 
no delay in our entering. An revoir," and slip- 
ping through the gate, she walked down the path 
and met the refugees near the river-bank, and 
they walked back to the fort as calmly and boldly 
as they could, not daring to run. Although no 
shots were fired at them, they felt that they were 
watched by far-seeing, cruel, unfriendly eyes, and 
once again, as Madeleine said in later days, "The 
time seemed very long." It was with thankful 
hearts that they passed within the stockade gate 
and the heavy beams which barred it were swung 
into place after them. 

That afternoon the respite continued, but when 
the early autumn twilight settled down, the 
weather changed suddenly ; the wind rose, and, 
mingled with its wailings, came the sound of 
shots from the forest, while the anxious watchers, 
peering through the fast-gathering darkness, saw 
shadowy forms flitting from tree to tree, drawing 
nearer the fort. 

An anxious little group assembled within the 
block-house for a hurried council of war. 

"They are drawing nearer and nearer," Made- 
leine said. "You think that they plan to attack us 
to-night, Monsieur Fontaine?" 

"I fear so, M'm'selle Madeleine," he answered 
anxiously, while old Laviolette nodded his head 
in assent. "It is their way, you know," he con- 
tinued, "to slip up by degrees, and with shrieks 
and yells, that help by terrifying the besieged, 
storm the walls, and capture the stockade, if pos- 
sible. Then Heaven help those whom they cap- 
ture, or who surrender." 

"I know," Madeleine said gravely, "but they 
fear to attack a place they think well defended. 
Our hope lies in making them think we are many. 
Even if they took the fort, the block-house could 
be held until help came. Therefore it is there 
that you strong men are most needed to guard the 
helpless women and children, whatever befalls us 
others. Do you, Monsieur Fontaine, with La 



I9I3-] 



A BRAVE LITTLE MAID OF NEW FRANCE 



773 



Bonte and Gachet, guard well that place, and oh, do 
not give it up, even if I am taken before your eyes." 

"Heaven forbid, M'm'selle !" cried Fontaine, 
fervently ; but Laviolette nodded gravely. 

"M'm'selle has the mind of a general. She has 
well planned," he said. 

They parted, Fontaine and the two soldiers 
going to the block-house, while the old man, the 
little maid, and the two lads took their places in 
the bastions on the stockade ; and at frequent and 
regular intervals the call, "All 's well," sounded 
from point to point. Pierre Fontaine had a clever 
trick of throwing his voice from one place to 
another, and such variety did this lend to their 
signals that Madeleine joyfully said to herself, 
"The place seems full of soldiers." 

The wind increased in fierceness as night drew 
on ; an icy rain fell, changing later to snow, which 
soon whitened the ground. This was an advan- 
tage, for it made it possible to see, in what would 
otherwise have been impenetrable darkness, a 
black mass of moving creatures approaching the 
fort. Madeleine was straining her eyes to see if 
this was some new scheme of the Indians to ap- 
proach the fort unchallenged, when a comforta- 
ble, every-day "Moo-o-o" sounding from the mass 
made her laugh aloud, so great was the relief 
from the tension. 

At the same moment, she heard a low whistle 
from Laviolette, the signal agreed upon to call 
the four to any given point. When she reached 
his bastion, he said in a low tone : 

"M'm'selle, here come our poor cattle which 
escaped from the savages this afternoon. The 
Iroquois have feasted well on some of the beasts 
this night. Shall I open the gate, and let our poor 
creatures in?" 

"Oh, I am afraid!" she cried; "the savages 
may be there." 

"Oh, nonsense, Madeleine," interposed her bro- 
ther Louis, "I know that was our Barbe mooing." 

"Even so, Louis," returned Madeleine, fearfully, 
"but thou knowest not all the tricks of the sav- 
ages. They may be crowding in among the cattle 
to slip within our walls." 

"I think we may safely venture, M'm'selle," 
said the cautious Laviolette. "The savages have 
had a great feast to-night. They have held some 
kind of a council, too, I think, from the shouts 
and songs I have heard, and I can still see gleams 
of their council-fire afar off among those trees. 
I think, as their wont is at such times, they have 
gorged until they can eat no more, and must sleep 
awhile." 

So, most cautiously, while the two boys held 
their guns cocked, Madeleine opened the gate 
just enough to allow one cow at a time to slip 



through. When the last of the animals had en- 
tered, and the gate was again barred, they went 
back, each to his bastion, leaving the cows to find 
such shelter as they could under the rude sheds 
built here and there within the inclosure. 

This incident broke the monotony of the long 
vigil for the boys, and brought some comfort to 
Madeleine, for she knew that now there would be 
plenty of milk for the little children crowded 
within the block-house, and even fresh meat for 
the older ones, should the siege be prolonged 
enough to make it necessary. 

When morning dawned, all the terrors of the 
night seemed to flee away. There are few things 
in the world that look quite as black in morning 
sunshine as in midnight gloom. A great sorrow 
or a great shame may seem perchance to cast a 
deeper shadow when the sun shines, but not the 
physical terrors which walk in darkness. 

Madeleine sent the two little boys to bed after 
the weary watch they had kept so faithfully; but 
she herself, borne up by a nervous excitement, 
seemed to feel no fatigue, and was here, there, 
and everywhere, her laugh and smile so con- 
tagious that even the sad-faced women took 
courage, all save Madame Fontaine, who threw 
herself into her husband's arms, begging him to 
take her away, back to France, to another fort, 
anywhere, to leave this horrible place. 

"Never !" Pierre Fontaine replied. "Never 
will I desert this fort unless Mademoiselle Made- 
leine surrenders it." 

"That will I never do !" she cried, "for my 
father says that one French fort surrendered is 
one broken link in the glorious chain that holds 
this country for our beloved king." 

So the days passed on, no hour without its need 
for constant watchfulness, no night without its 
weary vigil; many the alarms and attempted at- 
tacks, the scattered shots from fort and forest, 
yet through it all, this brave little maid of New 
France bore herself most courageously, and 
never for one moment did those who seemed 
dependent upon her and who had learned to lean 
upon her, see anything but a brave smile, or hear 
anything but words of cheer. But discouraged 
moments came to her, nevertheless. A siege of 
moderate length she knew they were prepared to 
stand ; most of the winter provisions were stored 
in the block-house, and a fair supply of ammuni- 
tion, although the boat which had carried her 
mother to Montreal was expected to bring back 
more powder, as well as cloth for the winter's 
use. 

But gradually, as day followed day, Madeleine's 
heart sank within her. Had the hunting party of 
soldiers been wholly destroyed ? Had not even one 



774 



A BRAVE LITTLE MAID OF NEW FRANCE 



escaped to make his way to Quebec and bring back 
help? Especially as the days drew nearer to the 
time her mother had set for her return did a wild 
terror seize her, lest the beloved mother should 
return all unknowing, and be slain before her eyes. 

She had gone to her father's house, to be alone 
there for a few minutes, and to wrestle with the 
terror and discouragement which had laid hold 
upon her. In the room where she and her mother 
had talked less than two weeks before, she laid 
her gun upon the table, and, throwing her arms 
across it, bowed her head upon them, and gave 
way to the heavy sobs which shook her from 
head to foot. 

"O dear Father in heaven, if my earthly father 
knew the danger his little girl was in, he would 
send help most speedily," she prayed; "hold Thou 
my dear mother safe ; guard her and guide her. 
Keep her from coming back until all is safe again. 
Oh, do Thou, Who knowest all and Who lovest 
more than an earthly father, send deliverance, I 
pray Thee, for we are sore beset." 

There came upon the tired child suddenly a 
great calm ; a wave of peace seemed to pass over 
her, and she was not afraid nor anxious any 
more ; and the heavy burdens she had been carry- 
ing seemed to roll away. 

For the first time in days, she slept a deep, quiet 
sleep, whether for moments or hours she could 
not tell. Suddenly, as often happens when some 
slight unusual noise occurs, she roused, conscious 
that the sentinels' regular, "All 's well," had 
changed to the quick "Qui vive?" of challenge. 

A moment later, Louis de Vercheres, whom 
Madeleine had charged to summon her if the 
slightest change occurred, came to her, calling, 
"Madeleine, Madeleine, come quickly ! Help has 
come at last !" 

Even in this supreme moment, her girlish love 
of fun showed itself, for she snatched an old 
military hat of her father's, and placed it on her 
dark, curling hair. Then she ran lightly across 
the inclosure and up into the bastion, where faith- 
ful old Laviolette stood shaking and trembling 
with eagerness. 

"We must make quite sure, Laviolette, that this 
is no ruse. It would not do to make a mistake 
now. Whence did the sound come?" 

"From the river, M'm'selle." 

Then she sent her clear young voice ringing out 
into the night, just merging into the dim light of 
dawn : 

"Qui vive? qui vive?" 

And in answer came the call : 

"It is La Monnerie, come to bring you aid." 

Oh, the welcome sound of the French tongue 
and the well-known name ! 



Posting Laviolette as sentinel at the gate, she 
herself went down to meet the lieutenant with 
his company of forty men. A brave, quaint little 
figure she was, walking with stately step, her 
girlish face half hidden by the military chapeau. 
Removing the hat with a stately, sweeping bow, 
she said, as she met them : 

"Vercheres welcomes you and your men, Mon- 
sieur de La Monnerie." 

"What mummery is this?" cried the officer. "I 
expect to see the commander of the fort, and 
there comes to meet me a girl, pranked out as for 
a masquerade !" 

"Even so, Monsieur," she said, with quiet dig- 
nity. ' 'The commander of the fort,' it is I ! 
Will you come with me?" 

Recalling with a thrill of gratitude the differ- 
ent circumstances under which she had traversed 
this path within ten days, she walked confidently 
over it now, by the side of Monsieur de La Mon- 
nerie, the tramp of soldiers' feet surrounding 
them on all sides. 

As they reached the white stone in the path, the 
gate of the fort swung open, showing old Lavio- 
lette and little ten-year-old Alexandre standing 
as sentinels on either side. 

"Our oldest soldier and our youngest one, Mon- 
sieur," said Madeleine, as they presented arms. 
"Will it please you to inspect the fort?" 

Making the rounds with her, La Monnerie 
found all in due military order, despite the piti- 
fully small garrison. As they ended their rounds 
in the great-room of the block-house, where the 
children crowded eagerly around to see the gold 
lace and brave uniforms, La Monnerie burst out 
enthusiastically : 

"It is wonderful, M'm'selle, wonderful ! Tell 
me now, how can we help you most?" 

"Post new sentinels at once, Monsieur," she 
replied. "We have been on duty day and night 
for a week." 

"It shall be done immediately, but first — " 

He gave a low-toned order to his men, at which 
they formed in ranks ; then, with his hand upon 
his heart, he bowed low before Madeleine, saying: 

"Great thanks and great glory are due to you, 
Mademoiselle de Vercheres, for this most gallant 
defense." 

Then turning to his men, he cried, in ringing 
tones: 

"Present arms !" 

The sensitive color rushed over the girl's face 
at this tribute, but she answered simply, raising 
her large dark eyes to La Monnerie's face : 

" 'T is naught, Monsieur. I only did my duty. 
All thanks are due to le bon Dieu, and the glory 
is our king's." 









tSfA 


'tTt . -,-. 'By 


„Jk 1 J 












DINNER PARADE AT CARMEL-BY-THE-SE A. 



DINING-ROOM OF THE SUMMER CAMP. 



CALIFORNIA'S OUTDOOR BOYS' CLUB 



BY DAY ALLEN WILLEY 



The thought that the great outdoors of our coun- 
try really belongs to the American boy and girl, 
even for those who live in towns and cities, has 
caused a movement to enable the younger Amer- 
icans to realize what nature really is. 

This is why we hear of such organizations as 
the Boy Scouts, the Boy Pioneers, and the Camp- 
Fire Girls. Already this movement has spread 
throughout the country. 

In the far West, a retired officer of the army 
service one day began thinking about the city 
boy — not so much the home boy, but the "newsy," 
the boot-black, the idle boy of the street, — what 
could be done for them? Major Peixotto had led 
a vigorous life in the army, and knew what pure 
air, sunshine, and muscle-stretching would do in 
uplifting these youngsters. It is easy to get ac- 
quainted with the "boy 'round town," and he 
asked a dozen or so if they wished to form a 
club. 

The word was "catchy." They all agreed to 
join. Thus was formed the Columbia Park Boys' 
Club, named after a suburb in the outskirts of 
San Francisco. That was fifteen years ago, and 
was one of the first manifestations of the outdoor 
spirit that is now felt so deeply and broadly by 
the youth of our country. 

To show these boys of the streets what nature 
could do for them was the main object, but, as 
the work progressed, other ideas were added, 
with the result that the Columbia Park Boys' 
Club not only includes outdoor life, but many 
special features that make it different from any 
other devoted to recreation in the open. The idea 
which Major Peixotto worked out, in the hope 
of helping the boys, was based on this saying: 
"Make the days of boys one unending joy, and 



you rear a race of right-thinking, clean men, 
with love in their hearts, and a deep regard for 
their fellow-men." 

While street boys were especially welcomed to 
the club, the school-boy, idle in vacation days, 
was also admitted, so that the "slum" boys were 
thrown with better associates ; but such is the 
routine of the club work and play that, while the 
companionship has improved the street boy, it has 
not injured his fellow, and the friendship has 
been only of advantage to both. 

During the summer days, the boys live under 
canvas in the open when they are not "hiking" — 
making long marches. The camp life they lead, 
however, has plenty of action in it, as shown by 
a day at "Camp Columbia." The reveille sounded 
by the bugler is blown at 6:15 o'clock, and the 
campers are required to rise, dress, and wash. 
At 6:45, comes the next bugle-call, and the as- 
sembly two minutes later, calling the citizens, ex- 
cept those excused for the kitchen work, into line 
in companies for the flag-raising exercises and 
for the physical drill. 

At this call, they are required to take their 
places where the companies are to be formed. 
At "assembly," the first sergeants fall in with 
their companies, call the roll, and turn over their 
commands to the captains. The adjutant then 
brings the battalion to the right-hand salute, and 
turns it over to the major. It is next brought to 
parade-rest, and the chief bugler sounds the col- 
ors call, and the flags are raised, the two color- 
sergeants raising the "stars and stripes," while 
the first sergeants of the companies and their 
color-corporals raise the two club flags. The bat- 
talion is then ordered to "attention," and turned 
over to the physical director. He places them in 



776 



CALIFORNIA'S OUTDOOR BOYS' CLUB 



777 



llii : \ ■ $ §r. JLJ**, % % '?, ■ i) 

WITH t fl p KTWiMI Hi fat i 


w.*«; di wr >« f mm m \ «mh 


f^AvL ^\^ BL.jffi00 IaL**Jv i w tI E^flSBEvl J 




^^^^■hh bj^h^^^^^^m^^^^^^^^^^^^^hhb^m ^^^^^h 



THE COLUMBIA PARK CLUB DRUM-CORPS. 



a single line, counts them off, and places them in 
open order for the setting-up exercises. After 
fifteen minutes of this drill, the mess call is 
blown, and the boys are reassembled and marched 
to the dining-room. 

Major Peixotto has made a study of his juven- 
ile club, to learn what each member can do that 
is worth while. He has found that many of them 
are talented. The club band is composed of boys 
easily taught to become skilful players on the 
brass and wind instruments. Others are pianists, 
while many of the boys have good voices for 
concert singing, and among the members are 
youngsters who can act as comedians, dancers, 
jugglers, and the like, and take part in enter- 
tainments varying from a minstrel-show or a 
vaudeville entertainment to a gymnastic display. 



The Columbia Park Boys' Club makes walking 
trips as long as 300 miles or more. Where there 
is a railroad, they ride in "tourist cars," or if in 
day coaches, spend the night comfortably in 
their sleeping-bags. But many of the marches 
are not along the steel highways, and here they 
must "hike," as they call it. On their backs are 
the rolled blanket and the knapsack with rations 
of bacon, hardtack, and other food for the noon 
lunch, and knife, fork, and spoon. In suits of 
khaki, with broad-brimmed sombrero hats — like 
those that our regular soldiers wear— their feet 
shod in heavy-soled shoes, these sturdy young 
Americans, with bronzed faces and muscles hard- 
ened by exercise, march up and down the hill- 
sides or through plain and valley. 

They swing ahead with the long springy step 




A TEAM OF TUMBLERS, READY FOR THEIR TURN. 



Vol.. XL. 



778 



CALIFORNIA'S OUTDOOR BOYS' CLUB 



of the soldier, and are so toughened physically 
that a tramp of many miles in a day does not 
exhaust them. A shady grove, a wayside brook, 
a cool crevice in the cliff 
rising above the path, are 
resting-places where they 
may lounge and eat the noon 
lunch, with peaches or other 
fruit from Some near-by or- 
chard for dessert. The pools 
which may be on the route 
cool off the travelers as they 
strip and take a swim, to con- 
fidl 1 tinue the journey with re- 

newed vigor. When night 
comes, if the Columbias have 
no other shelter, they get into 
their thick, warm sleeping- 
bags, and stretch out on the 
grass or pine-needles of the 
woodland, or in the field, and, 
with the sky for a roof, sleep 
soundly, inhaling the pure 
dry air of the outdoor night. 
The California people al- 
ways open their homes to the 
Columbia boys, and, in the 
towns and cities which the club has visited, as 
the dust-covered figures in khaki parade through 
"the streets to the stirring march played by the 
band, they are warmly welcomed. In the places 
large enough to give an entertainment, the min- 
ister may open his church, the mayor may invite 
them to use the town hall or the school ; and 
when, before the performance, the band begins to 
play in front of the doors, everybody, from grand- 
father to little sister, crowds into the building. 

It may be a minstrel-show, a clog-dance, a con- 
cert, with the band for orchestra — no matter how 
these boys show their talent, the audience dis- 
plays its enjoyment by its vigorous hand-clap- 
ping; and the boy in khaki at the door usually 
has to hold the collection bag with both hands as 




A PAIR OF ACROBATS. 



he carries it to the treasurer. Thus the Colum- 
bia Park Boys' Club pays much of its expenses 
while on a tour, and by its skill it also attracts 
crowds of people to the entertainments given in 
its home city. 

One trip, made by these hardy young fellows 
led by Major Peixotto, actually covered 400 
miles. They were "on the road" fifty-one days, 
and in that time gave thirty-four evening per- 
formances in the theaters and halls along the line 




OUTDOOR PRACTICE IN PYRAMID WORK. 

of the route, receiving from admissions a total 
sum of twenty-two hundred dollars. The boys 
also played twelve base-ball games at different 
points along the route, and spent a summer full 
of inspiration and of much practical value as a 
geography lesson. 




WHERE THERE IS A RAILROAD, THEY RIDE IN 'TOURIST CARS OR DAY COACHES. 










I ^^^H^^T^T" 




,l 7v 




** 







THE BAND OF THE COLUMBIA PARK BOYS CLUB. 



THE MAJOR'S BOYS 



BY ELOISE ROORBACK 



"Oh, say ! I 'd like to be in that band !" "See that 
third feller? He goes to my school. If he kin 
blow a horn, believe me, I kin do as well as he 
could !" "If I could only play, I bet I could beat 
that feller to a frazzle." Whenever the boys of 
the Columbia Park Club Band blow and beat their 
measured, silver-tongued, euphonious way down 
the streets of San Francisco, a veritable wake of 
such remarks bubbles in a jolly, frothy way, from 
the heart of every boy on the street. It also 
plows and cuts deep, as an ocean liner the sea, 
into the sleeping, ambitious depths of every boy, 
spurring him on to the desire for great things. 
Healthy emulation is a powerful educative factor 
in a boy's life. No wise council from man or wo- 



man can work as certain a change. No appeal 
to reason will inspire as effectively as the ridicule 
or praise of another boy. The boys of this band 
put forth their best efforts before an audience of 
boys. For them they stand their straightest, march 
with their noblest stride, blow their truest note 
with their fullest power. 

This is truly the day of the boy, and many 
original and inspiring experiments in education 
are being tried for his benefit, notably along the 
Pacific coast. Noble-hearted men and women 
are putting their shoulders to the wheel with 
such wise energy that unconsciously they are 
making educational history. 

One brilliant experiment in particular deserves 




ON THE WAY TO THE YOSEMITE VALLEY. 



AN EXPLORING PARTY IN THE VALLEY. 



779 



780 



THE MAJOR'S BOYS 



[July, 



the notice of every father, mother, educator, and 
settlement worker in America. It attracted my 
interest in a novel way. While walking in the 
Yosemite Valley last summer in company with 
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kellogg (the California 
naturalists), we noticed the dust of the road beaten 
into a fine pattern, as if an army had just passed 
by. We examined the marks. They were un- 
doubtedly footsteps, but too small for the soldiers 
stationed in the valley to have made. They were 
not just the right shape for the Sierra Club — two 
hundred strong— to have made. Besides, we knew 
these famous walkers to be on the Kings River. 
We quickened our pace in order to try and solve 




COURT OF THE COLUMBIA PARK BOYS CLUB-HOUSE 



the mystery. A turn in the road showed us a 
wonderful thing— a school of boys on foot — a 
school offering a curriculum of self-reliance and 
sturdy manhood ! A school educating the whole 
boy— his hands, feet, body, and mind. Lessons 
were conned from the living book of nature. 
Thirty-three boys were being given an education 
by travel, observation, and contact with people. 

This band of boys was but one division of the 
Columbia Park Club of San Francisco— three 
hundred in all— who by reason of the broad mind 
and sane vision of one man, Major Sidney S. 
Peixotto, are being given this splendid oppor- 
tunity for self-development. This group of boys 
was one of three which were then enjoying the 
most wholesome and beneficial vacation possible 
to give a boy— a walking, camping trip through 
the forests and fertile valleys of California. One 
division of the club, under the care of Major 



Peixotto's brother, Eustace M. Peixotto, was on 
its way to Eureka, walking the whole four hun- 
dred and eighty miles there and back. Another 
band of the "kiddies," numbering one hundred 
and twelve, were in a permanent camp at Inver- 
ness-by-the-Sea. 

Mr. Peixotto believes that the imagination of 
a boy is a very precious thing. He believes it 
should be guarded, trained, and developed, and 
that the best place in which to let it grow is in 
the country. There they can experience the joys 
of adventure and struggle, feel the thrill of 
achievement that molded our pioneers into so 
noble a race. To see the major walking along the 
dusty road with those 
boys, trailing side by side 
with them along the ridge 
of mountains, showing them 
how to gather wood, build 
a fire, cook their own 
meals, spread their own 
camp-beds, and then gather 
them around the fire at 
night while he talks to them 
of all that a boy ought to 
hear, loves to hear, is to 
see one of the finest things 
in the world. One is re- 
minded of the sages of old 
who gathered their pupils 
around their feet while they 
discoursed. Yet what a 
wide difference between the 
tenth century, which con- 
cerned itself with the mind 
only, and this of the twen- 
tieth century, which is con- 
cerned with the whole boy 
—which educates him into a perfect mastery of 
both body and mind. 

Major Peixotto has gathered these boys around 
him with the purpose of giving them all that they 
would otherwise be without. For some of them 
are orphans, some from homes where there is lit- 
tle or no opportunity for improvement, some 
from the ranks of the wealthy who are not awake 
to a boy's need ; some are sent to him by parents 
wise enough to appreciate what association with 
such a man means to their questioning, observing 
sons just forming ideals of life. Four thousand 
and more boys have been enrolled as members of 
this club, started in San Francisco in 1890 and 
then called the San Francisco Boys' Club. And, 
later on, it moved into a home of its own, be- 
coming, in 1897, an independent institution. The 
club-house was destroyed by the historic fire of 
1906, but has been splendidly rebuilt at 458 Guer- 



*9*3-l 



THE MAJOR'S BOYS 



781 




OUTDOOR DRAMATICS. 




A COMEDIAN. 




POSING AS SCOT! 




A QUARTETTE. 




A MINSTREL SHOW. 



SOME OF THE COLUMBIA PARK BOYS AS THEY APPEAR TO THEIR AUDIENCES. 



782 



THE MAJOR'S BOYS 



[July, 



rero Street. No dues are charged. Any boy 
under twelve years of age may become a member 
who is willing to give the personal service de- 
manded. Major Peixotto wants the boy when 
he is young, under twelve years of age, for then 
the boy thinks he can do anything, is afraid of 
nothing, and is in process of forming his life's 
standards. Whatever he sees another boy do, 
he thinks without doubt that he can do also. A 
boy of fifteen is afraid to try, afraid of ridicule, 
afraid of failure. 

In this boys' club (said to be the best boys' 
club in America by no less an authority upon 
the subject than Jane Addams), the boys are 
early taught the value of physical perfection. 
Major Peixotto says that buoyant boys make 
buoyant men, sour boys make sour men. So the 
aim and object of the club is happiness. The 
boys are not only encouraged to play, but made to 
play. The more heartily they play, the less they 
think about themselves. There is no priggishness 
about them. They are not ' braggarts. They 
never boast and blow vaingloriously of victories, 
but rush into the game with the whole-souled 
delight in play that nine times out of ten wins 
them the game. There is a trophy room at the 
club full of the cups, pennants, flags, and medals 
won by these boys, from their various opponents. 
They are taught clean thinking, clean living, 
clean sport. They have dancing feet, working 
hands, thinking minds. They can illumine a 
page, sew on buttons, cook a meal, make a wil- 
low basket ; can give a college yell fitted to raise 
any roof, tumble about like eels ; of their lithe 
young bodies they can build pyramids that strike 
fear to the hearts of all beholders who know 
nothing of such control of muscle. No boy is al- 
lowed to do only one thing, but must learn to do 
all things. 

The object. of this club is to prove that dor- 
mant in every boy lies some special talent. Here 
he can play and experiment in the idle hours 
after school and in the evenings, until he, as it 
were, finds himself. Instruction is given him in 
the line in which he is most interested, and when 
the time comes for him to venture forth into the 
world of men, employment is found for him in 
the vocation for which he is best fitted. The 
boys who have been members of this club have 
been so well trained in all-round knowledge that 
they are well able to fill the splendid positions 
many of them now hold. This all-round training 
includes work in the gymnasium, military drill, 
and outdoor athletics of every description. They 
are taught to dance, to sing, to take a place in 
the band. Self-expression is developed in the 
self-governed parliamentary meetings, impromptu 



dramatics, and in the numerous chances to ap- 
pear in public performances under right influ- 
ences. 

But the best part of all their training is the 
month or more of travel they are given each sum- 
mer. One year, forty-one boys went with Major 
Peixotto to Australia and the South Sea Isles. 
Another year, forty-three went with him to New 
York and all through the East. Every year, they 
are taken on some walking trip. They have been 
to Yosemite Valley, Big Tree Grove, Eureka, 
Los Angeles, and numerous other places of in- 
terest in California. Each trip is made under the 
personal care of Major Peixotto or his brother, 
who is hand in hand with him in this work for 
boys. The fine part of these trips is that the boys 
are not humiliated by the acceptance of charity. 
Far from it. They pay their own way by enter- 
tainments and band concerts given along the way. 
And any one who thinks that the evening of fun 
and music that they give their audiences belongs 
to the second or third class, is very much mis- 
taken. Their band holds the proud and well- 
earned title of "The Champion Amateur Band of 
California." They have a crack tumbling team, 
and pyramid builders of spirit, daring, and grace. 
They give a dramatic turn or so that never fails 
to win thunders of applause and roars of mirth. 
To my mind, the most remarkable part of their 
whole entertainment is the way that brass band 
can subdue itself when required to play an ac- 
companiment. Whoever has tried to play a soft 
and sympathetic accompaniment (or listened to 
some band's attempt to do it) well knows what 
a difficult thing this is to do. Yet these boys 
artistically accompany the song of a little boy 
ten years of age, giving him the necessary sup- 
port, but keeping themselves well to the second 
place. 

"Boys need a large social life under the guid- 
ance of men," says John D. Barry, in writing of 
these boys. "One cause of the trouble is the re- 
moteness of the average American man from the 
American boy. Another is the lack of men teach- 
ers." The Columbia Park Club boys certainly do 
not lack the stimulus of man's companionship, for 
the major, on these walking trips, and in the 
club-rooms as well, lives as one of them, walks 
with them, eats the same "Billy" dishes, spreads 
his sleeping-bag under the same tree, wears the 
same brown khaki, carries the same rations in his 
shoulder kit. This company of man and boys 
creates instantaneous interest and admiration 
wherever they go. Every one seems to rejoice in 
adding a bit of "extension course" to their al- 
ready full plan of study. Luther Burbank took 
them over his experimental gardens, showed them 



I9I3-] 



THE MAJOR'S BOYS 



783 



the processes of his work, and patiently answered 
about seven thousand of their eager questions. 
Lumber men have taken them through their for- 
ests and mills, shown them the whole system of 
lumbering from the standing tree to the piled 
lumber. Farmers have taken them over their 




MAJOR SIDNEY S. PEIXOTTO AND SOME OF HIS "BOYS. 



ranches, illustrating at first hand the principles 
of various methods of farming. They have been 
shown the operations of hydraulic mining, been 
down in coal-mines, through hop fields, vine- 
yards, and salt works, guided by owners who not 
only take time to personally conduct the boys, but 
often invite them to a spread. "Feed with us to- 
night, boys," is the offhand way of putting the 
boys at ease. Or "Fill up here in the morning 
before you hike out, boys." And the boys pass 
on such courtesies with a will. Many an auto- 



mobile have they rescued from a watery grave at 
a river's ford. Many a lumber wagon have they 
helped pry out of a mud hole. If it had not been 
for the well-directed activities of these boys last 
summer, Camp Curry, in the Yosemite Valley, 
might have burned to the ground. We who 
watched them carry water, beat out 
flames, take down tents, pull and tug 
with trunks, bags, dressers, and bed- 
steads, can testify to the efficiency of 
their service. And when every one 
was tired out and the fire apparently 
under control, it was the Columbia 
boys who stood watch all night, patrol- 
ling the grounds and stamping out 
many a flame waiting to start a fresh 
conflagration. 

This wonderfully successful educa- 
tional experiment is not as well known 
as it deserves to be, for the reason that 
its full worth could not be proven until 
some of the boys had reached man's 
estate and tried their powers in the 
world. It is fifteen years since Major 
Peixotto began this good work. His 
boys, that he took at the age of ten 
years, are now filling responsible posi- 
tions all through the city and State. 
There is no longer any possibility of 
doubt as to the excellence of his 
method. He has battled single-handed 
against great odds from the beginning, 
for he had to deal with the class of folk 
who say, "I never had any such school- 
ing, why should my boy have it?" To 
prove to the parent or the neighbor- 
hood the value of a better education, 
he would take a boy into his own home, 
feed, clothe, educate him, even pay to 
his parents the sum he would have been 
turning in if he were working in the 
factory where they preferred him to 
be. The friends of the boy's family 
would say sneeringly, "You are only 
making a regular dude of that boy !" 
But as each boy that he took charge 
of came to the earning age and brought home 
more money than all the rest of the family put 
together, the sneers ceased, and dozens of boys 
were brought to him for education and training. 
When one of the first boys became a city archi- 
tect, and took home a salary (instead of a wage) 
of $200 a month, the whole neighborhood grew 
proud of that boy, and eager to have their sons 
go and do likewise. 

Major Peixotto has practically attended to the 
whole very heavy financial side of this work, un- 



784 



THE MAJOR'S BOYS 



til now it has grown to such proportions that even 
his energy, large as it is, is not sufficient. There 
are band instruments, uniforms, music, tools, 
chairs, clothes, food, lights, and a thousand other 
things to be supplied to these boys that he has 
undertaken to benefit. He has been the entire 
support and educator of twenty boys who are 



now filling splendid positions. Nearly four thou- 
sand others have received substantial help in 
physical training, education, and in finding their 
niche in the world. 

It were well for the world if there were many 
more such clubs, filled with such boys, loved and 
cared for by such a man. 



ROADS 

Many, many roads there are, warm and dusty brown, 
Some go running to the hills, some turn into town ; 
Some lead far and far away, — where nobody knows; 
How I 'd like to follow them, finding where each goes ! 

Once I found a pretty road, leading up a hill, 

It ran beside a daisy field, and on it wandered still ; 

And down it went across a bridge, all tumbled and forlorn, 

Then straight behind a farmer's barn, where ducks were eating' corn ! 



Many, many roads there are, warm and dusty brown, 
Some go running to the hills, some turn into town ; 
Each and every one of them, I choose it as my friend, 
For sure surprise is waiting me, if I could find the end! 

Miriam Clark Potter. 




THE DAISY FIELD. PAINTED BY CHARLES C. CURRAN. 



p^rcy R ays 

Trickji ifioat. 

anHaiketl Dole. 11 




"Father, I 'm going to build a boat." 

"Build a boat ! You could n't build a boat !" 

There was no conviction in the father's tone. 
Alexander Ray, who was satisfied with himself, 
with all his possessions, and, above all, with his 
only son, in his heart believed that his son could 
do anything, just as he believed that he himself 
could do anything. Percy looked like his father. 
He had the same bright blue eyes, the same aqui- 
line nose, the same determined mouth. His hair 
stood up on his head with the same aggressive 
fierceness. They both had a quick, eager way of 
speaking. 

"What is your plan?" asked Percy's father. 

"Well, I 'm going to build it in the barn. I '11 
get some wood over at the sawmill. I saw some 
over there which looked just right." 

"What kind of a boat?" 

"No flat-bottomed punt, I tell you ! 
that will sail. I '11 build her with a 
rudder." 

"Have you made a sketch of it?" 

"No; only in my own mind." 

"You want a carefully drawn sketch of it 
help you." 

Mr. Ray got some large sheets of brown paper, 
and he and Percy were soon deeply engrossed in 
making measurements to scale. Both had con- 
siderable skill in drawing, and the boat as it took 
shape gave promise of being a joy forever. They 
reckoned about how much lumber would be neces- 
sary, and Percy borrowed a team of a neighbor 
and went to the mill to make his purchase. 

The old harness-room in the barn had been 
converted into a carpenter's shop ; it contained a 
solid bench, and a fairly complete assortment of 
tools. The main body of the barn afforded ample 
room for the boat-building. The big folding 
Vol. XL.— 99. 785 



I want one 
keel and a 



I '11 



doors could be flung wide open, and the view, as 
one looked out, comprised a small grove of maple- 
trees with one big oak and one tall pine, and, far 
beyond, the main village and the slope of a high 
hill covered with old apple-trees. Out of sight 
lay the wide river into which the boat would be 
launched. The barn stood lower than the house, 
which was of brick, with huge chimneys. One 
could stand on the front door-step and fling a 
stone into the water. 

Percy went to school in the morning ; he had, 
therefore, only three or four afternoon hours and 
his Saturdays in which to work on the boat. If 
he had not been eager to have it finished by the 
beginning of the summer vacation, he would have 
been rather jealous, and have objected to his 
father's pushing it forward while he himself was 
engaged in reading how Caesar constructed the 
bridge or Odysseus made his raft. Mr. Ray put- 
tered more or less, but Percy did the larger part 
of the work. It was wonderful to see the boat 
grow. The keel was laid with great care", and the 
ribs, skilfully shaped, took their proper places. 
One thing Percy's father could do, and that was 
to make shavings. He handled the plane like a 
master, and he did yeoman's work in smoothing 
the boards. It was to be a lapstreak. 

The pounding and general clatter could not fail 
to attract attention, and there was always a little 
crowd of critics who watched the operations with 
the keenest interest. When the work began, the 
ice was still in the river. It went out as usual on 
Sunday, and there was even a first-class freshet. 
Another barn, standing a little lower, was inun- 
dated, and Caleb. Loring had to take a flat-bot- 
tomed punt and rescue the Widow Jones's cow. 
Percy was sorry that his craft was not in readi- 
ness to engage in such a deed of mercy. 



786 



PERCY RAY'S TRICK BOAT 



Qui.y, 



At last, the school examinations were finished, 
and the boat was ready to be launched. All the 
boys of the village, and not a few men, gathered 
to watch and assist. In the olden days, before the 
bridge was built, long before the war, there had 



pouring down from a cloudless sky, went the 
boat. It soon reached the old ferry road. The 
team changed places, taking hold of the rear 
ropes. It was all admirably managed. Percy's 
heart swelled with pride. He realized that he 




"THE PROCESSION REACHED THE OLD FERRY ROAD." 






been a ferry, and the road leading diagonally 
down the rather steep bank still existed. Indeed, 
it was always used in winter when there was 
teaming on the ice. Percy arranged two pairs of 
wheels taken from a hay-cart, and, with the as- 
sistance of willing hands, got the boat safely 
and steadily established between solid crutches. 
Strong ropes were attached to the forward axle. 
Ropes were also fastened to the rear axle, so as to 
hold back when going down the incline. A team 
of shouting boys were waiting the word of com- 
mand to march forward with the glittering 
equipage. Glittering? It was painted white, with 
two parallel green lines. The name, Spcranza, 
was delicately lettered on the stern. Two pairs 
of brass rowlocks were in place. Four small boys 
disputed the honor of carrying the four oars. 

The procession started. An excited crowd was 
on hand to witness the launching. Percy had in 
some way procured a small yacht-cannon. It was 
all ready to fire a salute to the young queen of 
the river. Everything went like clockwork. The 
lads at the ropes walked in step. A couple of the 
taller ones moved at each side to give a steadying 
hand if it were necessary. Under the tall hack- 
matack-trees that lined the street, the sunlight 



occupied a commanding position among his fel- 
lows. Every one in town had been praising his 
enterprise and ingenuity. This was his day of 
triumph. 

The river flowed by in a calm and sedate man- 
ner. There was not a breeze. Every bush and 
tree was reflected in its soft brown water. Occa- 
sionally, a little fountain of bubbles would mount 
to the surface — gas from some decaying log 
buried in the muddy bottom. Now and then a 
fish would leap and cause a spreading circle to 
mar the images depicted on the mirror. There 
was a beach of clean white sand ; the bottom 
sloped gradually for perhaps ten feet, and then 
went down suddenly. It was an ideal place to 
launch the bonny craft. It did not take much 
imagination to see that the Speransa was quiver- 
ing with anticipation. It seemed to be actually 
alive. Very carefully she was pushed out into 
the stream until she floated. Then Percy, taking 
the end of the painter, towed her round to his 
float. This was constructed of large logs fastened 
together with parallel planks and securely an- 
chored. All the boys would have piled in at once, 
but he kept them off. "No," said he, "I '11 try it 
myself first. You shall have your show after- 



I9I3-] 



PERCY RAY'S TRICK BOAT 



787 



ward." He took one pair of the oars, and care- 
fully, so as not to scratch the paint, stepped in. 
He was just inserting one oar into the rowlock, 
having drifted away a few feet from the float, 
when suddenly, without the least warning, the 
boat rolled over, tipping the proud owner into 
the river. A shout went up from the crowd on 
the bank ; but they all knew Percy could swim like 
a duck. He came up sputtering, but a few strokes 
brought him and the boat to shallow water. 

Here Mr. Ray asserted himself. 

"You were careless," he said; "there 's no 
sense in managing a boat like that ! I thought 
you knew how to handle oars. Here, give it to 
me. I will show you how !" 

It was hot in the sun, so there was no danger of 



been heard a mile. It was too bad, but Mr. Ray, 
in spite of many admirable qualities, enjoyed 
among his fellow-townsmen the reputation of 
being a little too boastful. He was so often justi- 
fied in his pretensions that, to see him for once 
humiliated, relieved the disappointment which all 
felt at the failure of the Spcranza as a passenger- 
carrying craft. Both oars and Mr. Ray's new hat 
went sailing down the current together. Percy 
had to swim after them and bring them back. 

As poor Mr. Ray waded ruefully ashore, he was 
overwhelmed with suggestions as to what should 
be done. One thought that the keel should have 
a lead shoe ; another proposed to get some bricks 
for ballast. 

"She sets just like a swan," said Harry Man- 




"'I WAS BROUGHT UP IN A BOAT. I KNOW ALL ABOUT THEM- 



Percy's getting cold, though the water was 
streaming from his clothes and from his thick hair. 

Mr. Ray, assisted by several of the boys, 
brought the boat to the float again. 

He took the oars, and crept cautiously over the 
bow and seated himself on the middle thwart. He 
then tried to insert both oars simultaneously, 
saying rather boastfully, "I was brought up in 
a boat. I know all about them—" The next in- 
stant, he was floundering in the water. When the 
crowd saw the expression of his face, a mighty 
howl of unholy joy went up which might have 



ning. "She does n't look as if she 'd be so 
cranky. Here comes Caleb Loring; perhaps he '11 
try her." 

Caleb Loring was a half-witted fellow who got 
his living from the river. He had a flat-bottomed 
punt which he navigated backward or forward 
with a paddle. With it he collected cords of 
driftwood; from it he fished near the sunken 
piers of the old bridge that had been carried away 
during a January thaw, many years before. Caleb 
Loring was always the first to cross the river on 
the ice after it had closed over. 



788 



PERCY RAY'S TRICK BOAT 



[July, 



"What 's the trouble ?" he asked as he came lum- 
bering down over the bank. He wore a ragged 
straw hat, a blue flannel shirt, and trousers 
hitched to his shoulders by pieces of hemp rope. 
He was barefooted. "Oh, I see," he continued, 
"boat too high-studded. Wait, I '11 get a stun'." 
He went a few rods up the bank, and soon re- 
turned, bringing a water-worn boulder which he 
had used for an anchor. "There !" he exclaimed, 




"COMPANIES OF TWOS, THREES, AND FOURS 
EXPERIMENTED." 

"this '11 make her set deeper. Now she '11 be all 
right." 

"You try her, Caleb," shouted several. 

"I 'd ruther paddle her," said Caleb; "I '11 use 
the oar f'r a paddle." 

With perfect confidence he stepped into the 
Spcranza, but he had not taken two strokes before 
the mischievous craft, with all the agility of a 
bucking bronco at a circus, flopped on her side, 
spilling Caleb Loring, just as she had spilled 
Percy and his father, into the smiling river. 

Loring came up puffing like a grampus — a most 
ludicrous object. His straw hat and one oar went 
sailing down the current. The boat righted her- 



self and floated gracefully, looking as innocent as 
she was beautiful. 

"There 's something wrong with her," said Mr. 
Ray, with the water still dripping from all his 
garments; "I can't imagine what it is. She was 
built on measurements. We 've got to take her 
up to the barn again." 

This time it was more like a funeral than like 
a wedding procession. The boys hauled her out 
of the stream and lifted her on the wheels. Then 
they all took hold and rushed her up the bank, 
and back to the place of her nativity. Nothing 
was talked about in the village during the next 
few days except Percy Ray's "bucking boat," and 
those who missed the great spectacle of Alexan- 
der Ray following Percy over her side, had no 
difficulty in imagining the scene, so vividly was it 
narrated by the various eye-witnesses. 

Percy and his father were sitting, a few days 
later,— in dry clothes, of course, and with a some- 
what chastened spirit — talking about the still 
unsolved problem of the bucking boat, as it was 
universally called. The door-bell rang. The vis- 
itor was the proprietor of a little hotel at "the 
Pond." This was a resort about six miles from 
the village. Picnic parties frequently went there 
for sailing, swimming, rowing, and fishing. Eben- 
ezer Junkins had originally been a farmer, and 
his acres skirted the Pond. He had found it more 
profitable to rent his grove, to take boarders, and 
gradually to enlarge his fleet of boats, than to 
practise farming. He was a character. He had 
very blue eyes, sandy hair, and a straggly beard 
under his chin. His clothes consisted of a pair 
of very baggy pantaloons, a rusty black coat, and 
cowhide boots. He was regarded as extremely 
shrewd. He took a seat, and, twisting his broad- 
brimmed rusty black hat in his big, hairy hands, 
which carried around with them a goodly share 
of the rich soil of his farm, he hemmed and 
hawed for a while, and then burst out suddenly : 

"I hearn tell about that there boat o' yourn. 
That was plum funny — the way she upsot ye. 
I 'd 'a' giv' a dime to 'a' seen that circus-show. 
What I come f'r is to find out if ye 'd sell her." 

"I don't think it would be fair to palm her off 
on any one," said Mr. Ray; "do you, Percy?" 

"Why, no; it would n't be safe for any one to 
try to go out in her," said the boy. 

"Well, I 'd take the resk o' that," eagerly urged 
Mr. Junkins. "I 've got quite a stack o' boats, 
and I 'm mighty keerful how I let 'em. What will 
ye take f'r her?" 

"Let me see," mused Mr. Ray. "It cost us 
about twenty dollars, did n't it, Percy?" 

"I kept the accounts very carefully," replied 
Percy. "Not reckoning our time, the bare ma- 



I9I3-] 



PERCY RAY'S TRICK BOAT 



789 



terials stood us about twelve dollars. That does 
n't include the oars. One of them went down the 
river." 

"I '11 give ye six dollars f'r her. She ain't no 
good to you nohow." 

"I don't think I want to sell her," decided 
Percy. "I 'm bound to discover what was the 
trouble with her, and if I can't make her carry 
me, I '11 take the material and build another. 
What do you want of her, anyway?" 

Ebenezer Junkins's desire to get the boat was 
so evident that the boy's bright mind was filled 
with all sorts of conjectures. 

"Ef ye don't want to sell her, will ye rent her 
to me?" 

"Tell us what you want to do with her," insisted 
Air. Ray. 

"If ye '11 either sell her or rent her, I '11 tell ye 
what my scheme is," replied Ebenezer, after a 
little consideration, during which he scratched 
his sandy hair vigorously. 

"I 'd just as lief rent it," said Percy. "Now 
tell us what you propose to do." 

"Wall, I went to the circus onc't, and I see a 
bucking mule named Maud. Ther' was a standin' 
offer of five dollars to any one who 'd stay three 
minutes on her back, an' I never see no one git it. 
When I heerd about your 'buckin' boat,' 't oc- 
curred to me that I might try the same scheme 
with her. I '11 offer a dollar to the boy or man 
who will row or paddle hef'acrost fr'm the float 



At first he offered a lump sum, but, after some 
bargaining, it was decided that Percy should have 
twenty-five per cent, of all the profits. 

"I come down in my hay-cart," said Ebenezer, 
"an' I s'pose I may 's well take her now 's any 
time. That 's all right, ain't it?" 

A little later, the village was astonished to see 
Ebenezer Junkins, whom every one knew, delib- 
erately driving through the streets and across the 
bridge with the Speranza, apparently enjoying the 
sensation she was creating. 

A week later, the Sunday-school which Percy 
was regularly attending held its annual picnic at 
the Pond. Every one was going. It was known that 
Percy's trick boat would be going through her 
paces. All the boys and a good many of the girls 
carried their bathing-suits, and an extra dime and 
the resolution to conquer the mischievous little 
craft. It was a perfect summer day, not even 
the prospect or threat of a shower to mar its 
festivity. There was the usual motley array of 
equipages — wagons which looked as if they had 
been made before the flood, old-fashioned chaises, 
barges, and carts piled high with sweet-scented 
new hay. Baskets filled with home-made goodies 
were not lacking, and the train started off 
promptly, with shouts and songs. 

Percy, though he was going to play on the side 
of the Academy boys against the outsiders in a 
game of base-ball, managed, first of all, to steal 
away and get a look at his masterpiece — the 




"THE THOUGHT WAS FINISHED IN THE COOLING, GURGLING WATERS." (SEE NEXT PAGE.) 



over to the p'int 'thout gittin' tipped over — 't 's 
about as fur 's fr'm here up to the corner yonder 
I '11 charge ten cents a try at it. There 's hun- 
derds o' boys an' men come every season an' go 
in swimmin'. 'T will be a grand card." 

"What would you be willing to pay for it for 
the summer?" 



bonny Spcransa. Yes, there she floated, demure 
and graceful ! He could not help feeling proud 
of her nice lines — a pride tempered, indeed, by 
the consciousness that she had played him false. 
Ebenezer saw him as he stood contemplating her. 
"She 's a swan \" exclaimed Percy, with a burst 
of enthusiasm he could not repress. 



790 



PERCY RAY'S TRICK BOAT 



"I sh'd call her a duck !" chuckled Ebenezer. 
"Nobody ain't tamed her yit. More 'n forty 's 
tried her so fur. That gives ye a dollar. Guess 
we '11 make ye another to-day." 

There was a hurry call for Percy, whose heart, 
it must be confessed, was not in the game. At 
least he did not play so well as usual. Neverthe- 
less, the Academy boys came out ahead : the score 
stood five to four. When the nine innings were 
finished, there was a rush for the water. Three 
or four boys piled into each of the bath-houses, 
and, in an incredibly short time, the pond was 
alive with heads of every color— black, yellow, 
brown, red. Some dived from the float ; others 
jumped; many raced in, leaving a foamy wake 
and making a prodigious splash. Several tried to 
see how far they could swim under water. But 
after the first general cooling off, there was a 
simultaneous convention gathered to tame Percy's 
trick boat. Ebenezer supervised the trials. A 
painted sign announced the terms : each com- 
petitor was to pay ten cents ; any number might 
try at once. Whoever succeeded in propelling the 
Spcranza from the float to the point without over- 
turning should receive a dollar. 

Percy himself was the first to try the game. 
He had an inward lurking hope that his first ex- 
perience with his beautiful boat might have been 
only a dream — a dreadful nightmare. But the 
trick boat was true to her principles. She seemed 
to be actually alive. She took a mischievous de- 
light in deceiving, for a moment, the careful ven- 
turer, and then, with a little shake, flinging him 
into the shining waters of the pond, the next mo- 
ment riding calm and serene, as if no such im- 
pulse had ever entered her perverse feminine heart. 

Half a dozen of the larger boys in succession 
tried to tame her ; they all floundered, one after 
the other. Then companies of twos, threes, and 
fours, and, finally, half a dozen at once, experi- 
mented. The Spcranza stood nobly to her reputa- 
tion. She was no Atalanta : she would not be 
bribed by a golden apple ; she was as tameless as 
Pegasus. She and her antics made the event of 
the picnic. Even the girls— a few of them, at 
least— with no little self-confidence, thought they 
might have better success ; but the Spcranza was 
proof against even this appeal to the sex pride — 
she refused to be wheedled. 

Ebenezer pocketed the dimes. 

It chanced that a sailor on shore leave arrived 
at the Pond. He heard of the unruly lady of the 
waters. He knew he could conquer her. He 
scorned to take off his watch. "I never saw a 
boat yet that I could n't manage," he boasted. 
The Spcranza heard him ; she played with him 
after the manner of her kind. She let him row 



away ten or a dozen strokes from the dock. 
"This is an easy one!" he was saying to himself; 
but— the thought was finished in the cooling, gur- 
gling waters. From' the shore it could be seen 
bow the tameless one exulted in her pride. The 
sailor knew not how to swim, but half a dozen 
of the boys bore down to his aid, and got him 
ashore, where he stood for a rueful moment, his 
wide trousers clinging limply to his legs, and 
streams of water like tears running from his 
head ; then he disappeared, all his boastfulness 
melted within him. 

All that summer, Percy Ray's trick boat was the 
drawing attraction of Ebenezer Junkins's picnic 
grounds. Her fame traveled far and wide; men 
came from distant places to discover the cause 
of such a freak. As the Spcranza sat on the 
water, she looked as innocent and harmless as a 
dove. Yet ever there lurked that tricksy spirit of 
mischief, ready to spill the would-be conqueror. 

Percy's receipts for the season amounted to 
about fifty dollars. When the autumn came, it 
was the time for fairs; in such places as had 
streams or ponds easily accessible, there Ebenezer 
exhibited the Spcranza, offering a prize of ten 
dollars for the successful mastery of the boat, 
and charging a quarter for the privilege. As the 
price went up, the boat's pride increased. She 
bridled with the witchery of her unconquerable 
nature. One would have thought that a more 
docile spirit might have come to her in time— that 
she would have tired of exhibiting what has been 
called "the total depravity of inanimate things." 
Inanimate? If ever a boat was animate, she was ! 
She exerted an irresistible fascination. Men 
could not seem to help making the futile attempt 
to manage the fickle creature. But never once 
did the ten-dollar gold piece change hands. 

When the weather became too cold, the Spc- 
ranza was stored in a shed on Ebenezer Junkins's 
farm. One October morning, the shed was burned 
to the ground. It was supposed that some tramp 
who had slept in it had smoked his pipe and 
thrown a match into rubbish. The Spcranza per- 
ished in the conflagration, with several more 
innocent boats. Ebenezer was inconsolable. She 
was the only boat of her class. Percy, with a 
part of the money which he received as his share 
of the season's proceeds, bought a second-hand 
motor-boat at a great bargain. It was an innova- 
tion on the river, and he soon covered the cost of 
it in taking excursion parties to the Glen and the 
Old Indian village, and other points of interest 
on the river. 

But he will wonder to his dying day what 
caused the Spcranza to deceive the promise of its 
beautiful lines. 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 

(A sequel to " The Lucky Sixpence**) 

BY EMILIE BENSON KNIPE AND ALDEN ARTHUR KNIPE 




TALKED MUCH TO THE CAPTAIN ABOUT JOHN'S DISAPPEARANCE 



(SEE PAGE 794. 



Chapter XVII 

MUMMER BRINGS BAD NEWS 

As Perkins, the footman, spoke the name "Mum- 
mer," my heart gave a great bound of apprehen- 
sion, and I must have gone white, for Granny, 
following me on Marlett's arm, looked at me for 
a moment, and then cried out in alarm : 

"What is it, child? You look as if you 'd seen a 
ghost." 

That brought me to my senses, and I tried to rid 
my mind of the sudden fear that had entered it. 

' 'T is Mummer, the steward of Denewood," I 
explained to Granny, and without another word I 
ran to find him. 

The moment I saw his long, solemn face, I 
knew that he brought ill news. 

"What is it, Mummer?" I cried, giving him my 
hand. "Is there aught wrong with Mr. Travers?" 



"Oh, Miss Bee !" he murmured, "I know not 
how to tell you." 

He stopped, looking about him as if he sought 
a means of escape from doing what he knew he 
must. 

"What is it?" I cried in anguish. "Has Master 
John been wounded?" 

"Aye, Miss Bee — and worse," he answered. 

"Worse?" I exclaimed; "what could be worse?" 
and then I understood what he feared to tell me. 

"Is he dead, Mummer ?" I questioned, in a 
hushed voice. 

"Aye, I 'm afeared so, miss," he answered, and 
I saw the tears gather and roll slowly down his 
seamed face. 

For a moment I was as one stunned. I had 
been the happiest girl in the world, thinking of 
the pleasure John would have out of the portrait, 
and so pleased that it was like me ; and while my 



791 



792 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



[July, 



heart still sang with joy came this word of his 
death. It was impossible to believe. 

"Why did you say you were afraid he was 
dead, Mummer?" I demanded somewhat harshly, 
for I was not myself. 

"I '11 tell you all we know, 
miss," he answered, visibly 
trying to keep his feelings 
under control. "He went 
with his troop to the cam- 
paign in the South, and 
fought in Virginia under Ma- 
jor McLane." 

"Yes," I answered, "I 
knew that he hoped to go 
south." 

"Well, miss," Mummer 
went on, "after the campaign 
there, he volunteered to go 
with Morgan's men, so we 
learned from Major McLane, 
and there was a battle, a 
bloody battle, miss, at a place 
called the Cowpens, in South 
Carolina. Well, Master John 
was in that battle, and since 
then we 've heard naught of 
him, though Major McLane 
has hunted for him, high and 
low." 

He stopped as his voice 
choked, and hung his head 
dejectedly. 

"And you do not know for 
certain that he is dead?" I 
cried, hope springing- up in 
my breast. 

"Nay, miss, not what you 'd 
call certain," he admitted, 
"but even Mrs. Mummer has 
given over all hope, and 
't was Major McLane bade 
us send for you. Here 's a 
letter will explain the reason 
for that." 

He handed me an envel- 
op, and I almost cried out as 
I recognized John's hand- 
writing upon it. I crushed 

the seals, and, unfolding the paper, read as 
follows, as well as I could, with trembling hands : 

Dear Beatrice: 

If aught goes wrong with me, all I have is yours. The 
papers are all in the hands of Mr. Chew, the attorney in 
Philadelphia, with the exception of one document which he 
will need, and that is in the place you have the secret of. 

Faithfully, 

John Travers, 



It was dated in the previous autumn, and I 
looked to Mummer for further enlightenment. 

"He gave it to me, miss, telling me I must put 
it into your hands if aught befell him, and so 
Major McLane sent me off to you. I 've come to 




LISTEN TO THIS 



I READ TO HER A PART OF THE LETTER. 
(SEE PAGE 796.) 



take you home, Miss Bee. You 're the head of 
the family now, and — and — " he stopped, turning 
his face away from me. 

"Has aught been heard of Mark Powell or Bill 
Schmuck?" I asked. 

"Nay, not a word," he answered. "But so 
many were lost or wounded in that battle that 
there 's no comfort to be got in that thought. In- 



19 1 3-] 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



793 



deed, 't is said that Morgan was forced to leave 
his wounded with the people living about there. 
They call it a great victory for us, Miss Bee, and 
that 's something, though not much." 

"And every one has given up?" I asked. 

"Aye, even Mrs. Mummer, who was the last," 
he answered sorrowfully. 

Then, hesitating, he drew forth another letter. 
"Nay, there 's one other, but this will tell you," 
and he handed it to me. 

I opened it hastily, and read, in Peg's strag- 
gling hand : 

Dearest Bee 

Don't you believe what Mummer thinks is so. it is n't so. 
Your loving little PEGGY. 

"Bless the child !" I cried, " 't is the first good 
word I 've had. Mummer," I went on, near beside 
myself, "I don't believe it ! It can't be true that 
John is dead. It just can't !" 

"I 'm glad to hear you say so, miss," he an- 
swered drearily, "but you '11 come back with me? 
You 're the head of the family now." 

'T was plain that Mummer had given up all 
hope of finding John, and was anxious that I 
should assume the ownership of Denevood; but 
never before did heiress hear of her accession to 
fortune with so sad a heart ; nor could I persuade 
myself, in spite of all that I had been told, that 
John was no longer alive. 

"I '11 go home with you, Mummer," I answered 
stoutly, "though 't will not be as mistress of Dene- 
wood, but to search for Master John. I believe 
he is alive, and I mean to find him." 

"I hope you may be right, miss," he said, with a 
sorrowful shake of his head. 

"But I 'm sure of it !" I went on. "He was so 
big and strong. You remember when we found 
him wounded after the battle of Germantown? 
He was sore hurt then, but think how quickly he 
recovered." 

"Aye, but a small stone can break a great jar," 
Mummer answered sadly, "and a little bullet hole 
can let out a strong man's life. Master John has 
not recovered quickly this time, or he would have 
let us know. He would understand how anxious 
we would be, and 't would not be like him to leave 
us in doubt." 

That last struck me as the hardest argument to 
answer, but I put it from me. I did not mean to 
let myself believe for an instant that John was 
dead, and I repeated what little Peg, bless her ! 
had written to me, "It is n't so ! It is n't so !" 

"How soon can we start for home?" I asked, 
ignoring Mummer's croakings. 

"As soon as we can get to Holland and join 
Captain Timmons," he answered. "He bade me 
Vol. XL.— ioo. 



say he would have come himself had I not been 
here to take his place. He thought it was better 
that he should stay by the vessel, and so have all 
in readiness." 

Good Captain Timmons had kept his promise to 
come for me, and was waiting to do his share in 
helping me home to the place I wished I had never 
left. 

' 'T was kind in Captain Timmons to come," I 
said, half to myself. 

"And why should he not ?" asked Mummer. 
' 'T is your own ship, and he your servant, as 
am I." 

"Nay, now, I shall not have it !" I cried, stung 
by the way he accepted the situation. There was 
no honester nor more devoted man than Mummer 
was to John Travers, and the fact that he could 
talk as if Denewood had already passed into other 
hands showed how certain he felt. 

"Let us have no more talk like that," I went on, 
"and, until I am ready to call myself mistress of 
Denewood, let matters rest as they have hitherto." 

"When will you be going, miss?" he asked, not 
at all put out by my vehemence. 

"I shall make ready to start to-morrow," I an- 
swered. "But first you must see Granny," and I 
led him to the library, where we found her wait- 
ing for me to bring the news. 

"What is it, Bee ?" she demanded, giving Mum- 
mer a curt nod, "has Mr. Travers sent you more 
money?" 

"You can tell Madam what you have come for," 
I said, addressing Mummer. 

"T is told in a word," he answered, with a stiff 
bow to Granny. "Miss Beatrice inherits Dene- 
wood and all else under the master's will." 

"I am grieved to hear that your master is dead," 
Granny began, but I interrupted. 

' 'T is not at all certain, Granny," I protested. 
"It is only known that Cousin John has not been 
heard of for some time," and I told her of the 
circumstances? 

"And when was this battle?" she asked Mummer. 

"In January, madam," he answered. 

"And this is late June" — she pursed up her lips 
significantly. "It is too bad," she ended. 

"But, Granny," I broke in, seeing that she be- 
lieved the worst. "I don't care what any one 
says, I 'm going to see for myself, and search 
America till I find him, for I know that he is 
alive." 

"That does your heart credit, Bee," she an- 
swered coolly, "but it is hardly practical, is it? 
The estates are all left to Miss Beatrice?" she 
went on, addressing Mummer. 

"Granny, don't you understand that I am going 
to-morrow?" I burst in. 



794 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



[JtJLtf, 



She looked at me a moment as if she could not 
believe her ears. 

"My child, you are talking nonsense !" she said, 
in an even voice. " 'T is not to be thought of ! 
You speak as if this was an age of miracles, and 
you could ship back and forth to America in a 
week or less. Your sensibility is vastly becoming, 
but I doubt not that a search has been made al- 
ready." 

"Granny," I insisted, and I think I must have 
looked as earnest as I felt, for she opened her 
eyes wide in surprise, "Granny, I am going ! Let 
it be understood now. I 've crossed the ocean 
twice before without hurt, and now I must go. 
Please say I may." 

"I say you shall not !" she retorted, angry with 
me for the first time in her life that I remember. 
"What? Have you no love for your home? nor 
for your brothers, to say nothing of me, that you 
are so ready to leave us on a wild-goose chase?" 

"Nay, I love you, and I love the boys," I 
pleaded, "but this is not my home. I know you 
love me, but I am not necessary to your pleasure 
nor your comfort ; and so it is with Hal and Hor- 
rie. I am not part of their lives, and I 'm tired 
of being naught but the sister of Sir Horace. My 
home is in America, where there are those who 
need me, where I have duties to perform, where 
— where I find myself of some use in the world. 
If I had never gone there, perhaps I would know 
nothing different from the life I have led here for 
almost a year; but I have seen that a maid can be 
more than an ornament, and, although Denewood 
is not so splendid as the Towers, and Philadelphia 
is nothing to this great London, yet my heart's 
home is there, and I must go. Please ! Please !" 
I ended, and threw myself at her feet, the salt 
tears flowing down my cheeks as I gave tongue 
to all the pent-up longing for America that I had 
kept under for so many weeks. 

I know not what effect my plea would have had 
upon Granny if it had n't been seconded by Mum- 
mer, who at this point brought out a powerful 
argument in favor of my design. 

"I beg your pardon, Madam Travers, ma'am," 
he said suddenly, " 't is not such a useless journey, 
as you seem to think. I beg you to believe that it 
is highly necessary that Miss Beatrice take imme- 
diate steps to enter upon her inheritance, or at 
least put herself upon American soil without de- 
lay. If she is out of the country and does not 
press her claims in person, the entire estate will 
be given to the next of kin, or else taken over by 
the State." 

"Nonsense !" cried Granny. "The man 's a 
fool ! Do you think we have no law-courts here?" 

"Aye, madam," returned Mummer, in the same 



even voice. "But you forget that we in America 
are no longer colonies, and our courts would 
hardly recognize the jurisdiction of the English." 

"You 're naught but a rebel," retorted Granny, 
though there was less anger and opposition in her 
voice, for she began to understand that what 
Mummer said was true. 

"So you see, ma'am," Mummer went on, as if 
she had n't spoken, " 't is most important that Miss 
Travers return as soon as maybe. One of her 
own ships awaits her orders in Holland, and, al- 
though 't is not likely, still a claim might be set 
up-" 

"Enough !" cried Granny. "I see, Bee, you 
must have your way. Marlett, take the man and 
make him comfortable until to-morrow, and after 
that go and help Clarinda pack Miss Bee's ap- 
parel. Tell Perkins I am not at home to any one. 
These last few hours, Bee, my dear, we '11 spend 
together." 

Chapter XVIII 

BACK AT DENEWOOD 

There were further protests against my going 
from both Hal and Horrie. Sir Horace in par- 
ticular blustered about, to which I paid but scant 
attention, for to neither of the boys did I feel any 
obligation of obedience, and Granny had given 
her consent. Then, too, the estates of Denewood 
were a powerful argument in my favor, for 
though I think they were not influenced unduly 
by this, neither were they indifferent to the 
wealth; and already Horrie said he would settle 
upon Hal the jointure he had proposed for me, 
which was generous but premature, as I took 
pains to tell him. 

It was with very mixed feelings that I finally 
said good-by to them all, for while I was grieved 
to leave Granny and the boys, my heart longed 
for America, and I was fair mad to be on my way 
to look for John. So, although there were tears 
at parting, I confess that I left England gladly. 

Mummer, in his silent way, took me in charge, 
and brought me safe to Holland without adven- 
ture, whereupon Captain Timmons, having all 
things ready, made sail ere we had been an hour 
aboard the Alert. 

On the voyage across the Atlantic, I talked 
much to the captain about John's disappearance, 
for I refused to speak of him as dead, and, al- 
though he would nod his head and seem to agree 
with me in all the arguments I put forth, I saw, 
nevertheless, that he but humored me, and that he 
was as» sure as was Mummer that we would see 
Mr. Travers no more in this world. 

Mummer, of course, now that his mission was 
accomplished and there was no further need of 



ISH3-] 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



795 



words, relapsed into his usual silent self, and 
would sit by the hour in the forepeak of the ves- 
sel, wondering, I doubt not, how matters fared at 
Denewood since he had left it. He was a queer 
and silent man, but his devotion to the estate in 
Germantown was whole-hearted and sincere, and, 
though he showed little of his feelings at any- 
time, I knew he grieved sorely for the master he 
thought was dead. 

As for me, I never once let myself admit that it 
could be possible, though I could not help but 
realize that I was almost alone in that belief. 
There was only little Peg, and oh ! how many 
times did that letter of hers brace my faith and 
give me courage. "It is n't so !" I would quote 
again and again, and, if I had loved the stuttering 
little maid before, I loved her doubly now. 

The voyage was a prosperous one, and we came 
into Delaware Bay on a fair wind that had helped 
us all the way. The heat of midsummer lay over 
the land, and as we sailed up the river I thought 
no country in all the world so beautiful as this. 

Arriving at Philadelphia, Mummer went at once 
to the City Tavern, and there was the chariot, 
and a cart for my luggage, which had been wait- 
ing only two days, so nicely had Mrs. Mummer 
timed our coming. 

We delayed not, but were on our way to Dene- 
wood at once ; and, as we passed the familiar 
roads lined with butternuts and willows, I felt 
almost happy. 

On entering the long„drive, the chariot stopped, 
and Mummer got down to open the door, and, a 
moment later, little Peg scrambled into my lap. 

"Oh, B-B-Bee !" she sobbed, and, as I put my 
arms around her, I realized how much I had 
missed that valiant little creature. 

"Y-y-you don't b-b-believe it?" she whispered 
between sobs. 

"Nay, Peggy darling," I answered, scarce less 
upset than she; "but is there no news?" 

"Not y-yet," she said, shaking her head sorrow- 
fully ; "but he 's s-s-somewhere, B-Bee, and 
w-we '11 find him, n-n-now you 're here." 

I let the tears flow as they pleased, and they 
started afresh as we drew up to the door and Mrs. 
Mummer ran with her arms outstretched to receive 
me. I went to her with a cry of mingled pain and 
joy upon my lips. 

"Deary ! deary !" she whispered in my ear, as 
she patted me and tried with all the love she bore 
me to ease my well-nigh bursting heart. "Deary, 
I knew you 'd come ! I knew you 'd come !" she 
murmured; "the luck of the house has returned 
to it, never to go again." 

She led me through the rows of bobbing ser- 
vants up into my own room, and she and I and 



little Peg shut the door on all the world, and did 
our best to comfort one another, as we wept in 
each other's arms. 

'"T is a sad home-coming, my deary," said Mrs. 
Mummer, when we had composed ourselves a lit- 
tle. "How often I have wished that you had 
never gone, taking your lucky sixpence with you." 

"But I only took half of it, Mrs. Mummer," I 
said hesitatingly. 

She looked at me in wide-eyed surprise. 

"Did Master John have the other half?" she 
fair screamed. "Did he have it?" 

"Aye," I answered, "and the Gipsy said 'the 
half would be luckier than the whole.' " 

"If I had known that I should not have 
despaired," she declared eagerly. "Tell me, is 
your half of the sixpence bright?" and she caught 
at her throat as if she could scarce frame the ques- 
tion, so great was her anxiety. 

"Of course it is," I answered, not catching the 
drift of her meaning; and I pulled out my bit of 
the broken coin, strung from a ribbon about my 
neck. 

She scanned it carefully, and then burst into 
cries of joy. 

"Now heaven be praised for all its mercies," 
she murmured prayerfully, "I hope again." 

"But what is the meaning?" I asked, quite mys- 
tified. 

" 'T would be as black as coal were anything 
fatal come to Master John. Didst never know 
that? He 's well, somewhere, if he still has his 
bit of the sixpence." 

"I have always felt sure he would come back," 
I answered, "not because of the sixpence, but— 
but— because my heart told me it must be." 

"Aye ! aye !" she answered. "You had faith, as 
little Peg has it. But they all talked to me and 
said this and that, showing me how he must be 
gone, till I could not but believe them, for it is not 
in reason that he could be alive and stay hidden 
all this while. But I 'm done with reason, Miss 
Bee. Now that you 're back, you bring the luck 
of the house with you. We '11 live to see Master 
John walk in the front door, and I '11 take joy in 
watching him eat many another good dinner." 

Now while I suppose Mrs. Mummer's talk about 
the lucky sixpence was but a superstition, I must 
confess that, from that day on, I took many a 
furtive look at it, and rubbed my piece until it 
shone nigh as brightly as a mirror. 

But though Mrs. Mummer and little Peg and I 
kept our faith in John's being still alive, there 
were those who thought otherwise, and there was 
scarce an hour in the day that I was not reminded 
of it. It was plain that Mummer looked upon me 
as the permanent mistress of Denewood, and, al- 



796 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



[July, 



though he never referred directly to the subject, 
matters that heretofore he would have decided 
himself in John's absence, were brought to me. 
Even Mrs. Mummer, though she protested might- 
ily that she was firm in her belief that John was 
alive, nevertheless put responsibilities upon me 
that showed a different view. 

At Mummer's persistent solicitation I went to 
see Mr. Chew, as John's letter had instructed, and 
though I refused absolutely to have the estate set- 
tled upon me, I believe he took measures to estab- 
lish my claims in the event of John's never 
returning. He, too, shared the general belief that 
Mr. Travers was dead, but he put nothing in the 
way of my prosecuting the search, and com- 
mended my determination not to leave any stone 
unturned to find him. 

But this matter proved not so easy, now that I 
was in America, as it had seemed when I was in 
England. Many months had passed since the 
battle of the Cowpens, and where was I to begin ? 
I had sent word to Major McLane of my arrival, 
and knew I could depend upon his forwarding any 
effort on my part, but at the same time I saw 
only too clearly that he himself had neglected 
nothing that was likely to bring the slightest news 
of him we sought. Realizing that, I could not but 
wonder what I could do that had not already been 
accomplished. 

I was relieved to find that Polly and Betty had 
gone to their home in Haddonfield. It would have 
been more than I could bear just then to listen to 
their petty gossip of balls and fashions, and to 
answer their questions about London. But I was 
glad that Peg had stayed at Denewood. That 
small and independent person had declared flatly 
that she would not return until her father came 
back from the war, and Mrs. Mummer was re- 
joiced to keep her. 

And so time passed while I did nothing but 
polish my bit of sixpence, and though my heart 
longed for news of John, I was glad to be at 
Denewood, so busy the livelong day that I had 
little time to mope, and almost happy because I 
was back in the country I loved. 

At length came a letter from Major McLane, 
and I opened it eagerly. Inclosed with it was 
something wrapped in thin paper, which I held 
while I read. 

My Dear Miss Bee : 

I scarce know what interpretation to put upon this 
which I am sending you. It came into my hands from an 
old backwoodsman, who says he 's had it for some months, 
not being able to reach me sooner — which may well be the 
truth, for I have not been very accessible. His story as to 
how he came by it is not quite so credible. However, this 
is what he says. One day last winter, an American officer 
rushed into his cabin, hotly pursued by a detachment of Brit- 



ish horse. The American handed the inclosed to the man 
with the words, " For Major McLane. Pennsylvania Light 
Horse," ran on through the house and out at the back, in 
an effort to escape. Whether he was captured or not, this 
man could not say. He heard shots fired a few minutes 
later in the woods bordering his clearing, but he does not 
know the outcome. 

That 's the whole of his story, and when I pressed him 
for a description of the officer, he could give none, saying 
that it all happened so suddenly that he had no real sight 
of him. I scarce know whether to credit this or not, but 
I could get naught else out of him. 

This seems to show that John was not killed at Cow- 
pens, for it happened some weeks later. On the other 
hand, if it really were he — of which, of course, there is 
doubt — it seems all the more certain that he was killed in 
his effort to escape. The shots the backwoodsman heard 
may well have been the fatal ones. 

I wish I could hold out some hope to you from this in- 
cident, but I cannot with conscience, and though I have 
not ceased looking for John, I confess I have little expec- 
tation of finding him. 

Pray command me for any service that may occur to you, 
and believe me, with affection, 

Your obed. humble servant, 

Allan McLane. 

I opened the paper, and drew forth a broken 
gold chain, from which still hung the other half 
of my lucky sixpence. 

I know not how long I gazed at that tiny piece 
of broken silver in my palm. It seemed a long 
time, but I was numb, and could not make myself 
think. I stared at the bit of silver as if I had 
never seen such a thing before, as if it were a 
curiosity from a strange land, a something to be 
wondered at, but without any special significance 
for me. 

But at length my senses came back to me, and, 
like a flash, I knew what it all meant. John had 
sent the bit of sixpence to show that he wanted 
me, that he needed me, that he was somewhere in 
the world ! Having no other means of communi- 
cation, he had forwarded the bit of sixpence, and 
I cared not what Allan McLane might think, nor 
how irrational this belief was when fitted with the 
facts as they were known, I was sure of what it 
meant, and I would lose no time in going to him. 
My heart was almost light as I flew to tell Mrs. 
Mummer. 

"Look ! Look !" I cried, pushing the chain into 
her hand, "know you what that is ?" 

She took it, and I expected her face to light up 
with joy; instead, I saw tears filling her eyes. 

"Know you not what it is?" I cried anxiously, 
for her sad face put a doubt in my mind. 

"Aye, that I do," she answered ; " 't is Master 
John's bit of the lucky sixpence," and a tear 
rolled down her cheek. 

"But know you not what it means?" I asked 
breathlessly ; "he sends it to me as a summons. 
"Listen to this !" and I read to her a part of the 



I9I3-] 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



797 



letter. "He wants me tc go to him. Is n't it 
plain, Mrs. Mummer ?" 

She shook her head sadly. 

"Nay, deary, that is not the meaning," she said. 
"I wish I could think it, but this takes the last 
hope from any heart." 

"What mean you?" I cried. 

" 'T is clear," she answered, her voice breaking 
as she spoke ; "think you Master John would part 
from this if he were alive ? Nay, he would never 
let it out of his possession, and—" 

But at that I broke in upon her speech, resolved 
that I would not have my faith shaken. 

"That 's true, unless he wanted me," I insisted. 
"He does want me, and I mean to go to him." 

"Nay, child," said Mrs. Mummer, " 't is beyond 
belief, though I wish I could think as you do. 
And do you not see that Major McLane would 
have taken your meaning if it were possible?" 

"But how could John have sent it if he were 
dead ?" I demanded. 

"He did not send it," she answered; "that 's just 
it. While he was alive he would n't have parted 
with it. That I know ! After— who can tell what 
happened ? Perhaps Mark Powell found it upon 
him, or Bill Schmuck, and sent it on to let us 
know the worst, they being, at best, prisoners 
themselves. Who knows what has taken place? 
But 't will help not at all to hold out false hopes." 

I gave her Major McLane's letter to read; but 
it only served to strengthen her view. Now not 
only reason but superstition jumped her way, and 
she was certain John was dead. 

I coaxed her in vain, but, truth to tell, I cared 
not so much what she thought as I did to preserve 
my own belief that the bit of coin had been sent 
me as a summons. What arguments I put forth 
were to bolster my own convictions, and when 
Mrs. Mummer met them all with a sad shake of 
her head, I determined to put an end to con- 
troversy and to act. I had been at Denewood a 
full month, and had accomplished nothing. 

"Mrs. Mummer," I began, "all you say may be 
true, but I cannot believe it. I think John is a 
prisoner somewhere, and has taken this means of 
letting us know. I am going to try and find him." 

" 'T would be but a useless quest, my dear," she 
answered. 

"Nevertheless, I mean to take it up," I said, and 
at that she shook her head sadly, and went out of 
the room to resume her duties. 

But when I thought about the matter, I found 
it was not so easy. Between me and the place 
where John had vanished were two armies, one 
of friends and one of foes. Major McLane was 
with Colonel Lee in Virginia, or somewhere there- 
abouts, and so were Bart and his father. The 



only one whose help would avail, and with whom 
I might come into touch, was His Excellency, 
General Washington, and though I was not in- 
clined to bother him with my private affairs, 
knowing how busily he was engaged, nevertheless 
I would have set him, and Congress, and all the 
army, on a search for John an it were possible. 
So I determined to see General Washington, to 
lay the matter before him, and abide by his 
decision. 

I had supposed that I would be obliged to seek 
His Excellency near New York, but word was 
brought to me that he had been in Philadelphia 
for several days. 

At this I resolved to get all things ready for my 
journey south, stopping in Philadelphia to consult 
the general ; but here I met unexpected opposition. 

Mummer and Mrs. Mummer had evidently 
talked the matter over between themselves, and 
concluded that so long as there was no immediate 
prospect of my going, there was no need to oppose 
my wishes ; but the moment I gave orders for the 
carriage to be prepared, and told Mrs. Mummer 
to get ready to accompany me, they both began to 
grumble. 

" 'T is something of a sudden, Miss Beatrice," 
said Mummer, with an impassive face. "The ani- 
mals are needed to gather the crops, and—" 

"Surely there are enough horses," I interrupted. 

"But you see, miss," he went on, "there 's Light- 
foot 's lost a shoe, and the chestnut mare has a 
strained shoulder — and if you could wait ten days 
or even a week, miss, 't would be better." 

"Nay, I go early to-morrow morning," I an- 
swered. 

"Oh, but Miss Bee !" exclaimed Mrs. Mummer. 
" 'T is impossible with all the things I have to get 
ready. Deary, do not think of it. Give us a little 
time." 

I knew that these objections were all on my 
account, and that their own comfort weighed no 
whit with them ; that they believed I was starting 
on a hopeless journey and would have spared me 
the pain of disappointment. But I was in no 
humor to brook interference, and had no mind to 
stay longer at Denewood, doing nothing. 

"Mummer," I said, "I care not if no crops are 
garnered. I start for Philadelphia in the travel- 
ing carriage with two of the best horses on the 
place. And Mrs. Mummer," I went on, turning 
to her, "I 'm sorry to have to take you away, but 
I cannot go alone, so you must come." 

" 'T is impossible !" declared Mummer, and I 
saw by the set of his face that it would take 
much to move him. "I 'm sure Master John 
would not approve," he added. 

"Would it not do a week hence ?" pleaded Mrs. 



798 



BEATRICE OF DENEWOOD 



Mummer, knowing that with some delay they 
might work upon me to give up what they thought 
was a foolish undertaking. 

"Enough \" I cried. "You force me to give 
orders where I would rather make requests, but 
go I shall. As you insist that I am the mistress 
of Denewood, see to it that she is obeyed !" 

They took my meaning, and without further 
argument went to do my bidding. 

Of course little Peg was for going too, but 
Mrs. Mummer, who, once she saw that it was 
useless to try to dissuade me, was the same de- 
voted woman she always had been, comforted 
Peg, who was on the verge of tears, by handing 
her the great bunch of keys she carried. 

"You '11 stay here, my pet, and keep the house 
till we return," and to this arrangement, as suited 
to her dignity, the young lady agreed. 

There was considerable preparation to be 
made, for we knew we should be gone a long time 
and would have only ourselves to depend upon, 



and Mrs. Mummer, though she still insisted that 
our journey could not bring the joyful termina- 
tion I predicted, nevertheless took a good stock of 
things needful for an invalid — "in case," as she 
put it. There was no hanging back now, all was 
ready betimes, and the coach, with black Peter 
for driver, and two stout horses which could be 
ridden to saddle, was at the door. 

Mummer was left in charge of Denewood, and 
there were several good women who could be 
depended upon, so that I was not worried on that 
account. Indeed, I was glad to be gone, for in 
my heart I was sure we should find him we 
sought. 

"I wish you a successful journey, Miss Bea- 
trice," said Mummer, as we were about to start. 
"I only hope and pray you will not be disap- 
pointed." 

"Nay, Mummer," I cried confidently, "when I 
return, I shall bring the master of Denewood with 
me !" 



( To be continued. ) 




-jjflostf^t? Jo 




Mister T?at saw Miss Cat 
=^~ One fine day , 
Past asleep in a. heap 
Of new bay . 
»» % tt , 
h, he said, she 5 in bed 
Now,IthmK, 
I H obtain some nice grain 
And a drinX V * 
3 
Crouching, low, moving slow, 

Mister Kat, & 

\veaK from dread , passed the bed 
Of Miss Cat. ^ 



James r\pwe 

After that . Mister Tfet 

Never thought 
Toes to .seejOr that he 
T'lifiht be caught . 
S 
But alacK .' something blacK- 

.Strantfe to say,— 
Even then. Watched, not ten 
Teet away J 

Soon it humped, then it jumped, 

.. Landing flat ! - 
Lire was o" er, then tor poor 
Mister T*at . 



r Pu«led?Oh,lhen,flldo_ 
-^Farther still : *» 
Our Miss Cat had a. fat 
brother Bill • 




MANAGERS AND THEIR WORK 

BY C. H. CLAUDY 

Author of " The Battle of Base-Ball," " Playing the Game," etc. 
THIRD PAPER OF THE SERIES— THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME 



It is more difficult to draw a parallel between the 
manager of a Big League team and the manager 
of a boys' team, than between players on leagues' 
and lads' teams. The player on the league team 
and the player on the boys' team both try to do 
the same thing, play according to the same rules, 
make hits, runs, steals, all in the same way. 
What the Big League player does through skill 
and long practice, the young player tries to do, 
and, in imitating, improves himself and his game. 

But the Big League managerial work differs 
greatly from the managing a boy is called upon 
to do. The lad who manages his team of school- 
mates need, as a general rule, concern himself 
only with business details, the securing of uni- 
forms, making dates for games, attending to what 
correspondence may be necessary, and so on. 
The manager of a Big League team has but lit- 
tle to do with such things— a business manage- 
ment does it all for him. His duty is that of a 
general, marshaling and leading his forces, and 
his is the responsibility for failure, even if but 
seldom is his the glory of success. A Big League 
manager must be a base-ball general, a leader of 
men, able to plan either a play, a campaign, or a 
settlement of personal differences on his team, 
and combine with the wisdom of a Solon, the 
tact of a Talleyrand, the organizing genius of a 
Marshall Field or a John Wanamaker, the strat- 
egy of a Napoleon, and the base-ball ability which 
his own team will learn to respect. 

It is for this last reason that the great base- 
ball manager is almost invariably either himself 
a great player while he is managing, or has been, 
in his playing days, a famous performer in some 
base-ball post. But make no mistake— the great 
player is not necessarily the great manager. Hal 
Chase is generally conceded to be the greatest 
of all the first basemen of history — yet he failed 
as a manager. Lajoie, one of the very greatest 
second basemen who ever played the game, and 
a batter of note, never won a pennant as a man- 
ager. Neither of these men lacks anything as a 
player, but both lack something as managers of 
teams — that indefinable something which differ- 
entiates the man who can do from him who can 
both do and inspire others to do. 

It matters not whether a man be manager on 
the bench, or whether he both play and manage 



— to be successful, he must either be or have been 
a great player. The managers of all the Major 
League teams command the respect of their play- 
ers, either for what they are, or for what they 
have been, as players. Fred Clarke, of Pitts- 
burgh, and Frank Chance, late of the Chicago 
Cubs and now the leader of the "Yankees," are 
examples of playing managers who can do those 
things they demand of their men. Hugh Jen- 
nings, one of the greatest short-stops who ever 
dove after a ball, Connie Mack, of Philadelphia, 
a great player in his day, Clarke Griffith, whose 
crafty pitching earned him the title of "Old Fox," 
are all examples of great players who have be- 
come great bench managers. Mentioned last 
here because so commonly mentioned first, but 
never to be mentioned as least, is John McGraw, 
whose brains as well as brawn made him a star 
on the old Baltimore "Orioles," and who has 
earned, as general-in-chief of the New York 
Giants, the title of the "Little Napoleon" of base- 
ball, because of the high quality of the general- 
ship he displays in managing his men, planning 
campaigns, winning games, and, finally, — supreme 
test,— capturing pennants! 

But let no one think the list is ended here ! 
There never was a great team of ball-players 
that did not have a great manager. And no team, 
without a capable manager, either on the bench 
or in the field, ever made its mark in the game. 
More often than not, the credit of success is given 
the players, the blame comes to the manager, yet, 
in a majority of cases, the game is won by the 
brains in the coacher's box or on the bench, or 
lost through the stupidity of some player or his 
mechanical failure to perform that which it was 
expected he would perform. 

The last World's Series is a case in point. 
Coming from behind, after being outplayed at the 
start, McGraw marshaled his forces, outgener- 
aled the Sox, and tied them at the finish. The 
series was already won by McGraw, when a me- 
chanical failure — Snodgrass's muff and Merkle's 
failure to start after a foul in time— made pos- 
sible the final win by Boston. 

It should be noted by all who lead others to any 
achievement that McGraw has yet to. say the first 
word of blame to his men who failed in the criti- 
cal moment. It was not their fault— it was the 



800 



THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME 



[July, 



luck of the game breaking against them. But 
neither was the loss of that series to be laid at 
McGraw's door ! 

There are three systems of managing a base- 
ball team in the field. One is for the playing 
manager to direct his men, another for a bench 
manager to direct his men, the third for the man- 
ager to leave his men alone, depending on their 
individual judgment for decisions in critical mo- 
ments. All three systems have their exponents — 
all three have their drawbacks. 

John McGraw is an example of a bench man- 
ager who decides what his team is to do, and 
when it is to do it. Connie Mack, of Philadelphia, 
is an example of the great manager who counsels 
and advises rather than orders — whose players 
are given a liberty of judgment to do what they 
think best in the circumstances without looking 
for orders. Frank Chance is an example of the 
playing manager who leads his team in person 
and dictates their play while taking part in it. 

The Chance system has the great advantage of 
not needing a field captain — the field captain and 
the manager are one. The McGraw system has 
the great advantage of putting all the responsi- 
bility in one man's hands, and getting the most 
uniform results from the team because the think- 
ing is done by one head instead of nine, and not 
handicapping that head by compelling it to direct 
an individual's play as well as team play. The 
Mack system has the great advantage of letting 
heady players take instant advantage of oppor- 
tunities which would be lost had the player to 
"take the old look around," as the players call it, 
for an order before going ahead. 

Now all three of these men have won pennants. 
All three have demonstrated that their systems 
are good. All three have shown results in favor 
of their own ideas of running a ball team. It is 
not for you or me to decide which system is best ; 
we can but note that there are ways and ways of 
doing the same thing. 

But what has been demonstrated is that a man- 
ager accustomed to one system, and with a team 
accustomed to that system, must not make a 
change. All three of these managers have had 
this brought home to them. McGraw lost a pen- 
nant when he developed his team to the point 
where he thought he could let it, to some extent, 
run itself. Chance lost out with the Cubs when 
he retired from first base and had to go to the 
bench. It is noteworthy that he starts the year 
1913 at first base again, the position from which 
he led successfully the four times victorious Cubs, 
even though he moves over to second base the 
finest first baseman in the game ! 

Connie Mack lost his great captains, Harry 



Davis and Murphy, the one through managerial 
ambition, the other through injuries— and lost a 
pennant because he had no experienced field cap- 
tain to lead his men when they needed leading, 
and because they had thought for themselves so 
successfully, they grew careless in their third 
championship season. Harry Davis is back with 
the Athletics this season, it will be noted. Mc- 
Graw gives the orders this year as he did last 
year — Chance again leads his men ! 

Planning the game beforehand is a vital part 
of any manager's work. He must consider who 
the probable opposing pitcher and catcher are to 
be, and take advantage of any weakness there, 
that he may play a running, a waiting, a bunting, 
or a hitting game, as conditions may indicate. He 
must note any substitutions on the opposing team 
to find a weak spot. He must be on the alert to 
take advantage of any sudden turn in the game. 
He must have certain pitchers in reserve and 
ready to rescue his first selection, if necessary. 
He must decide and instantly when to substitute 
a new player for one already in the game. All 
these things, and a hundred besides, are in the 
hands of any manager, whether he plays or 
whether he manages from the bench. 

In no other department of the game does the 
manager, whether he plays or whether he directs 
from the bench, show the quality of his leader- 
ship to greater advantage or disadvantage than 
in his choice of pitchers. To be sure, when 
everything is going smoothly and all the pitchers 
are in form, they may take their regular turns in 
the box, to give each man the much-needed rest 
with which to build up his tired arm. But with 
an important, critical series to be played, rotation 
in the box is never considered. Picking the 
pitchers then is an art, a matter of strategy and 
long, long thought. 

The history of the game fairly bristles with 
examples. The well-informed fan can look back 
to the campaign of 1908 — the "whirlwind race" 
it is often called — and find several. But one will 
suffice. That was the year when the White Sox 
and the "Tigers" settled the pennant race with 
one game, with Cleveland hanging on to the end, 
and the St. Louis "Browns" out of the race but 
a week. That was the year when Pittsburgh lost 
the chance to win by one game, when New York 
lost and made the race a tie because Merkle did 
riot touch second, and when the Chicago Cubs won 
the play-off game ! Seldom, if ever, has there 
been so much excitement at a finish. 

Fielder Jones was> managing the White Sox. 
He has always been looked upon as a past-master 
of the art of "jockeying" pitchers. After the 
Sox lost the race in one game, he was criticized 



I9I3-] 



MANAGERS AND THEIR WORK 



801 



by the same fans who exalted his season's work; 
but time has shown that Jones made no error— 
simply that their "hindsight" was better than his 
foresight ! 

This is what happened. Leaving Boston for 
home after their last trip east, the Sox were out 
of the race. Other teams had proved too strong 




JOHN MCGRAW, MANAGER OF THE 
NEW YORK "GIANTS." 



for them. But in New York they won four 
games out of five, and broke even in St. Louis, 
while Detroit and Cleveland were tearing each 
other to pieces in another "even break." Once 
at home, the Sox, back in the running, played like 
fiends — "hitless wonders," the fans called them, 
for they won whether they hit or whether they 
struck out ! Let a man get on, and he 'd score, 
recklessly, daringly, foolishly ; but he would 
score ! 

On October i, there were five games remaining 
to be played, and four must be won to beat out 
Detroit, unless St. Louis should beat the Tigers, 
which they were not likely to do. After a won- 
derful spurt, St. Louis had slumped, and was out 
of it. 

Now here was Jones's first problem. Should 
he try for two from Cleveland and two from 



Detroit, or one from Cleveland and three from 
Detroit? He decided to try to win one game 
in Cleveland, and, to make sure of it, selected 
Walsh to pitch. But Walsh was opposed by 
the late Addie Joss, one of the greatest and 
cleanest and most-beloved of pitchers. Walsh 
lost his game— i to o. For Joss pitched a no-hit 
game, and thus put himself forever in the hall of 
fame ! Then Jones started Pitcher Frank Smith 
against Liebhart. But Walsh had to be called in 
to save Smith, and the game, which he did, de- 
spite the fact that he had pitched the day before, 
fanning the great Lajoie with two on bases and 
the White Sox but one run ahead ! 

There remained three games to play. White, 
the great left-hander, won one from Detroit. 
Walsh won the next one. Then came Jones's 
greatest problem — and the answer meant either 
the pennant and his slice of the World's Series, 
or— defeat! It was all up to the manager, re- 
member—not the team, nor the owner, nor any 




FRANK L. CHANCE, FORMERLY MANAGER OF THE CHICAGO 
"CUBS," NOW OF THE NEW YORK "YANKEES." 

one else — all up to the one man who had led the 
team all season — and on his decision not only 
the honor, but thousands and thousands of dol- 
lars, rested ! Whom should he pitch ? Could 
"Doc" White, great but erratic, stand the strain 

New York 



The illustrations printed with this article are from copyrighted photographs by The Pictorial News Co 

Vol. XL.— ioi. 



802 



THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME 



[July, 



again, so soon ? Had Walsh, ''Iron Man" though 
he was, had enough rest? Should he try Frank 




:/'.. 




FRED CLARKE, MANAGER OK THE 
PITTSBURGH "PIRATES." 



Smith, crafty and bold, but who had faltered and 
been rescued by Walsh but a day before ? 

Summers and Killian, of Detroit, were out of 
the way. Jones knew that Donovan — "Wild Bill" 
Donovan — a master, would pitch on the morrow. 
It took Jones all night to worry out the problem. 
Finally, he decided to start White. Walsh was 
to be ready at an instant's notice. This was noth- 
ing new to Walsh, for Jones had spread Walsh, 
like butter, thinly over his whole campaign. 
"Walsh now pitching for the Sox" became a 
newspaper byword in 1908. 

But alas for judgment! The Tigers, starved 
of base-hits for two days, were "due," as the 
players say. White was batted from the box 
from the start. Walsh, who had pitched seven 
times in nine days, was called in. But Walsh 
could n't check the Tigers. Either too tired, or 
because they had started a batting rally from 
which nothing could stop them, they hit him. 
The game was lost in the first two innings. In 
desperation, Frank Smith was sent in. It is said 
that he had wept because Jones would n't start 
him. The Tigers could n't hit him with shovels 
or tennis rackets ! He had them absolutely help- 
less. But the damage was done, for if the Tigers 



could n't hit Smith, neither could the Sox hit 
Donovan, and the runs gained at the start won 
the game and the pennant, and downed as clever, 
gritty, and knowing a general as ever stood in 
uniform. // he had only started Frank Smith- 
but there can be no "if s" in a ball game. 

The stories told of McGraw are as the sands 
of the sea. One of the most picturesque, suc- 
cessful, remarkable base-ball generals the world 
has ever seen, McGraw combines in a rare degree 
the ability to plan, to direct, to take advantage 
of an opportunity, to see into the future, and to 
plan for what may happen as well as for what 
is happening. McGraw is stern and harsh at 
times. But his players know him to be fair and 
just. He will condemn in no half-hearted man- 
ner a failure to obey orders, even if it brings a 
run across the plate. He has nothing to say in 
blame for the player who does as he is told, but 
who fails in the play. 

"Obey orders. I '11 take the blame if you don't 
succeed !" he says, and means it. If he told a 
man to "wait him out," and that man knocked a 




FIELDER JONES, FORMER MANAGER OF THE 
CHICAGO "WHITE SOX." 



home run on the first ball pitched with the bases 
full, there would be many more comfortable places 
than that player's shoes ! Let him tell the player 
to hit, with the bases full, and let the player 
strike out or hit into a double play— there is 



I9U-] 



MANAGERS AND THEIR WORK 



803 



nothing said save, perhaps, "Better luck next 
time." The fans looked to see Merkle given his 
release after he failed to touch second in the his- 
toric game. Merkle was never even blamed by 
McGraw. "I 've not touched it myself, scores 
of times!" said McGraw. He did n't say any- 
thing to Snodgrass when he muffed that costly fly 
last October. "It could happen to any one," said 
McGraw. "If it had n't been for a lot that Snod- 
grass did, we would n't have been playing in that 
game at all !" 

McGraw coaches when things are going well. 
When things go against him, he retires to the 
bench, not, as some ignorant fans imagine, to 

escape abuse from 
the crowd, but the 
better to see the 
whole field at 
once. No one 
knows better than 
McGraw that a 
game is often 
won from seeing 
some tiny detail 
overlooked by the 
other side. 

An instance is 
a game played 
between the 

Giants and the 
Pittsburgh "Pi- 
rates." It had 
been a great "see- 
saw" game, and, 
although Pittsburgh was ahead in the sixth inning, 
it was still "anybody's game." Then two Giants 
made hits in succession, and McGraw tightened 
his lips and felt hopeful. But Clarke, in left field, 
snatched his glasses from his face and stooped to 
tie his shoe, and Adams hustled out to warm up ! 
In spite of McGraw's protests, Clarke took his 
time tieing his shoe, and then Wagner "stalled" 
a bit with his shoe, and finally, just as the um- 
pire's watch came out, Clarke came zvalking in, 
removed Leifield from the pitcher's box, and sent 
in Adams to-pitch. Adams struck out the next two 
men, and the Pirates were safe for the time being. 

Twice in that game McGraw had saved it, by 
running out from the bench and giving orders in 
person. Once he drew in a fielder for a batter, 
seeming to sense the coming hit, and turned it 
into a shoe-top circus catch. Again he motioned 
his second baseman over where a second baseman 
should n't be, and turned a scorcher into a double 
play. 

But the game was not won by preventing the 
score from increasing. McGraw wanted that 




CONNIE MACK, MANAGER 
OF THE PHILADELPHIA 
" ATHLETICS." 




CLARKE GRIFFITH, MANAGER OF THE 
WASHINGTON "SENATORS." 

game. He knew Adams was young and tender 
to Big League work. "Wait him out," said Mc- 
Graw. "Take all he '11 give you." So they waited. 
"One ball, one strike, two balls, foul, foul, foul, 





JAKE STAHL, MANAGER OF THE BOSTON "RED SOX.' 



804 



THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME 



ball—" to every batter. In the ninth, two men 
got to first free of charge, and a hit made the 
game even again. McGraw untied his folded 
arms, and waved to silence those players who 
were imploring him to let them "hit it out." 

"Wait," he said. 

Ten innings, eleven innings, twelve innings, 
thirteen innings. Wiltse, for the Giants, was 
pitching flawlessly, Adams, for the Pirates, was 
an inhuman piece of mechanism. 

Then came the little thing which no one but 
McGraw saw, and the reason for this story. Mc- 
Graw was on the bench, but his mind was in the 
field. Player after player he thought about, ana- 
lyzed, criticized, failing to find any weakness. 
But he kept one eye on Adams. In the thirteenth 
inning, he saw the lad drop his arm to his side- 
just a little motion. He was ready to pitch again 
in an instant. 

"He 's tired !" said McGraw to himself, tri- 
umphantly. "He 's all in !" But to his team he 
said merely, "Hit it, now !" 

So instead of waiting, waiting, waiting, they 
made the famous Giant shift. Adams, lulled into 
the belief that they were going to keep on waiting 
to tire him out, had been putting the first ball over. 
But now, tired, he was putting it over fast, not with 
a breaking curve. Bing, bing, bing— three hits fol- 
lowed in quick succession, and the game was won. 

Who won it — the men who made the hits, who 
ran the bases and slid over the plate, or the lit- 
tle stocky general with folded arms and half- 
closed eyes, who had seen a tired boy drop his 
arm for half an instant? 

Few managers are keener in the watch they 
keep upon their men and their opponents than 
Connie Mack, of Philadelphia. No one ever sees 
Mack at his ball games — a pair of field-glasses 
may discern the lank figure under the roof of the 
"dugout," but that is all. And no one ever sees 
him excited or nervous. But no one ever saw 
him asleep. Few managers rank higher than 
Mack in selecting his pitchers to pitch against 
certain clubs. It is well known that many pitch- 
ers can almost always beat certain clubs, and 
seldom can beat others. Connie Mack does n't 
guess, or try to remember. He keeps a list of 
games, and knows just how effective is Coombs, 
Plank, Bender, against each and every team. 

"Let me pitch against them to-day, please do," 
some pitcher may ask him, hoping for a chance to 
show that the Tigers, or "Naps," or Highlanders 
have n't really "got on to his curves," after all. 

"Oh, I don't believe that will be best !" Connie 
Mack will answer, with his slow smile. "You 
know, you always tear those Red Sox wide open. 
They '11 be here day after to-morrow— I think 



I '11 pitch you twice then, and let Coombs rest. 
But to-day he 'd better pitch !" 

And to-day Coombs does pitch, probably, or 
Bender, or whoever it is, and, more likely than 
not, wins his game because Mack had consulted 
some cards and found out that this particular 
pitcher had the greatest winning percentage of 
all on his staff over the club then playing. 

The manager must keep his scouts busy looking 
up new material. He must decide whether he 
wants Pitcher Jones or Short-stop Brown for five 
thousand dollars or not. He must himself be a fine 
judge of men, so as to know whether his money 
is wasted, or whether he must hold on and de- 
velop. Mack paid a fabulous price for "Lefty" 
Russell, and let him go shortly afterward— he 
was n't going to waste time with a player he 
found he could n't make a winner. McGraw paid 
$n,ooo for Marquard, and spent three years 
teaching him to be a winner ! 

The manager must settle disputes among his 
men, keep them contented, attend to discipline, see 
that his players keep in condition, that they don't 
make mistakes in taking care of themselves, grow 
stale from lack of work, or get overworked, carry 
the whole team on his shoulders, and plan each 
game as he plans the whole campaign. If he 
wins, the team gets the credit ; if he loses, the fans 
demand his scalp ! There are, as a result, more 
Big League jobs than there are competent men to 
fill them ; and the men who do fill the Big League 
managerial berths satisfactorily, command almost 
anything in the way of salary they choose to ask. 

The fans marvel at the work of Mathewson, 
cheer Wagner, and root loyally for Johnson. 
They madly throw hats in the air when Ty Cobb 
steals home, and clap wildly when Lajoie hits a 
home run with the bases full, or Jackson reaches 
after a bad one and lifts it over the fence. But 
the manager gets little of all this applause. 
Those who play get their share, as players. 
The manager, as a manager, gets little credit 
from the fan at the game, even though it is his 
brains, rather than his players' brawn, which re- 
sults in the satisfaction of the rooters. 

Least spectacular, most productive of all play- 
ers on the team, the manager carries a heavy 
responsibility. Let that fan who would be fair, 
as well as loyal, give an extra cheer for John 
McGraw or Frank Chance when a brilliant game 
is won, nor leave out Clarke Griffith or Jake 
Stahl when speaking of the mighty prowess of 
Walter Johnson or Joe Wood. It is the man 
behind the club, as well as the men behind the 
bats, who wins games — more, who makes modern 
base-ball, in all its keen-witted strategy and its 
athletic wonder, a daily possibility. 



SHOOT-'EM-ON-A-ROCK 

(A true story) 

BY IZOLA FORRESTER 



■ * ,.«'-•. • 




"EVERY WEEK, SOMETIMES ON HER 
PONY, SHE WATCHED FOR LITTLE 
CLOUD." 

He lived in a southwestern State, up near the 
corner they called the Panhandle. And that 's 
telling, is n't it? He was almost six years old, 
and his really truly name was Moving Cloud. 
Up at the post, they called him Little Cloud, be- 
cause there were so many other clouds tagging 
along after his mother, when she came after sup- 
plies ; but, saving the papoose on her back, he 
was the littlest. 

Mildred had never heard him speak, and she 
did want to so much. Every week she watched 



for Little Cloud, sometimes from the Colonel's 
veranda, sometimes on her pony, when she rode 
with her mother down the long, smooth road to- 
ward the reservation. 

"He 's so funny, Mama," she would say. "His 
hair is so thick and straight, and it 's cut like a 
Japanese doll's, off short just below his ears; and 
he never smiles a bit, but stares and stares, and 
he 's always got that funny, long-eared puppy 
under one arm." 

So you can see why no one ever thought of 



806 



SHOOT-'EM-ON-A-ROCK 



fJULY, 



blaming Little Cloud for the trouble that almost 
started bullets flying that early spring at the post. 
Mildred had lived there for two years. Some- 
times she would hear some of the ladies talking 
with her mother of the Indians, and how well- 
behaved they were nowadays, and how there was 
no danger any more. 

But one day the Colonel, who was also Mil- 
dred's father, seemed unexpectedly very busy. 
He was at breakfast when one of his aides came, 
and they talked alone in the study ; M ildred no- 
ticed that her mother did not finish breakfast, but 
went out on the veranda, and watched prepara- 
tions going on across the parade-grounds for 
something. 

After the Colonel had hurried away. Mildred 
went out too, but she hunted up "Charlie Boy" 
Brookes, who was a well-known authority on 
events at the post. She found the Boy perched 
on a fence-post, highly interested and excited, 
and bubbling over with news. 

"There 's a whole case of cartridges lost from 
the wagon," he told hef. "And some of the In- 
dians were seen around it, and now the boys 
think they stole it. The wagon came in last night, 
and it got stuck in the mud crossing a creek bed ; 
Jimmie Bolivar says he knows sure there 's go- 
ing to be war unless that box shows up." 

"Maybe it 's down in the creek bed," Mildred 
suggested happily. " 'The shadow of war has 
passed.' " She quoted Mrs. Captain Sewall's 
placid assurance confidently, but the Boy only 
grinned. 

"Well, anyway, I know just what 's going to 
happen now, and don't I wish I could go along. 
They 're hustling out a special detachment, and 
my father 's going to lead them right down to 
the reservation, and get back that box of car- 
tridges, or there 's going to be smoke." 

Mildred saw the detachment ride down the 
post-road and head south in the bright, morning 
sunlight. It was the middle of April, and the 
prairies were already covered with frail flowers, 
pink anemones, hepaticas, and tall, swaying dan- 
delions. 

"Mil-dred!" called her mother, anxiously, from 
the veranda, and, reluctantly, Mildred left the 
Boy, and went back to headquarters for orders. 

"Father thinks we had best keep in the post 
limits until he finds out whether there is any 
danger of an uprising," she said. 

"Must n't we ride, even, Mother dear?" Mil- 
dred's face was very wistful. Dearly did she 
love her morning canter on Dandylegs, her pony, 
and the Boy would surely be out riding. 

Just then, Mrs. Moving Cloud, and all her little 
Clouds, came in slow, stolid, single file along the 



road. They were tired after their long trip, and 
looked straight before them as they passed the 
Colonel's veranda. But Mildred suddenly no- 
ticed that Little Cloud was missing. 

It was news for the Boy. They both loved to 
watch for the little Indian. Down the road she 
ran, the bow on her bobbed brown curls the most 
agitated part of her. The Boy had vanished from 
the post, and she saw two figures straying in 
friendly fashion away in the distance beyond the 
limits of the post. 

"Oh, Boy ! Boy Brookes !" she called eagerly, 
but the boy heard not. He was far too busy get- 
ting acquainted with Little Cloud and finding 
out why the little Indian had quietly dropped out 
of the family procession, and approached him. 

"What is it, Cloud?" he asked over and over 
again. "What do you want?" 

"Shoot-'em-on-a-rock," replied Little Cloud, 
gravely, staring before him at the gay, sunlit 
prairie. 

"The soldiers? They won't shoot you. Any- 
how, they 've gone down to the reservation. 
Let 's go back." 

"Shoot-'em-on-a-rock," was Little Cloud's only 
reply, and Boy Brookes decided to plod ahead. 
He could not go as fast as the Indian, in his 
boots, so he took them off, and tucked his stock- 
ings in them neatly, and ran on. They were 
found just where the Boy had left them by the 
Colonel and his men on their return from the 
reservation, and Mildred told how she had seen 
the Boy and Little Cloud running away together. 
Mrs. Cloud had flatly refused to move without 
the runaway, and the whole family of Clouds oc- 
cupied the ground in front of the Colonel's house, 
to Mildred's delight. 

"It 's very peculiar," said the Colonel. He did 
not get off Rex, his big, gray horse, but handed 
down the shoes and stockings to the Boy's 
mother, and looked grave. "We searched the 
whole village, and there are no signs of the car- 
tridges. Shamosa swears he knows nothing, and 
that all is peace. The medicine-men are quiet. 
There are no fires, no dancing, nothing. But the 
cartridges are gone." 

And just here one of the little Clouds spoke. 
He was a boy, about a year and a half older than 
the real Little Cloud. He had listened to the 
Colonel with round, expressionless eyes, standing 
shyly behind his mother's blanketed shoulders ; 
but now he said the same words as Little Cloud : 

"Shoot-'em-on-a-rock." 

"Do what?" asked the Colonel, catching the 
words. "Come here to me, boy. Do what?" 

"Shoot-'em-on-a-rock," repeated the little fel- 
low, stolidly. He squatted in the road beside 



I9I3-] 



SHOOT-'EM-ON-A-ROCK 



807 



Rex, and made believe pound something with his 
hand. 

"Where?" asked the Colonel again, bending 
forward. 

"By rock, by water." 

"Can he ride ?" The Colonel turned to the old 
squaw, and she nodded, her eyes watching each 
face in turn. And they sent for Mildred's pony, 
and set the little Indian on it, and rode away in 
a hurry, in the direction he pointed out. 

So of course Mildred missed seeing the fun, as 
the Boy said afterward, but she heard all about 
it from him, and it happened this way : he fol- 
lowed Little Cloud clear down to the creek bed. 
They could still see the deep ruts where the heavy 
wheels of the supply wagon had stuck there the 
night before. The water was still low, for there 
had been little rain so far. Little Cloud ran down 
and waded over. Then he climbed like a goat up 
the steep bank until he came to the top. And 
there the Boy found, when he came up, panting a 
little from the climb, the lost box of ammunition. 

Little Cloud pointed at it proudly. 

"Shoot-'em-on-a-rock," he exclaimed. "You 
show how. You make big noise, big smoke, like 
one day." 

He picked up a big rock, and proceeded to 
hammer vigorously at the case fastenings ; but 
Boy Brookes stopped him. 

"Here ! See here ! Wait a minute !" he 
gasped. "You don't do it that way. Why, these 
are cartridges. For guns, don't you know? What 
did you think they were?" 

"Sizz— boom— c-r-r-ack !" explained Little 
Cloud, soberly. "You do one day. You do." 

Then a light broke on the Boy, and he grinned. 



"Oh, you mean fire-crackers ! Jimineddy, if 
you are n't funny ! You thought those cartridges 
were fire-crackers !" 

"Shoot-'em-on-a-rock !" repeated Little Cloud, 
thoroughly satisfied at making himself under- 
stood. And Boy Brookes laughed, for now he 
did remember how, nearly a year before, he had 
been shooting off fire-crackers when Little Cloud 
came by, and stared at him longingly. And here 
he had found the box of cartridges where it had 
been lost off the wagon, and had lugged it into a 
good hiding-place until he could get the boy who 
knew how to "shoot-'em-on-a-rock." 

So that is why they still call Little Cloud 
"Shoot-'em-on-a-rock," although he is nearly 
twelve now. The Colonel and his men met the 
two trudging wearily back toward the fort, that 
day, and they were taken up in front of two of 
the soldiers. 

"But how did you ever keep him from really 
exploding the cartridges, Boy dear?" asked his 
mother, when she had him safe beside her, and 
Mrs. Cloud had started placidly back home with 
all her little Cloudlets tagging behind. They were 
on the veranda at the Colonel's house, and Mil- 
dred sat on a cushion, listening with all her ears. 
She felt almost as if the Boy had averted war. 

"I just took him prisoner," answered the Boy, 
comfortably. "First he did n't want me to, but I 
promised him I 'd shoot off some of my real fire- 
works for him this Fourth, and he let me arrest 
him then. Was n't that right?" 

"Right or not, Boy, you found the cartridges," 
laughed the Colonel. "And when you grow up, 
and go into the service, you may say your first 
prisoner of war was 'Shoot-'em-on-a-rock.' " 




•SToLte/^BucI- 




Photograph by Underwood & Underwood. 
ALFRED NOBEL. 

It seems strange that the man who invented and 
made it his life-work to manufacture that great 
instrument of destruction, dynamite, should leave 
his vast wealth to the cause of bringing about 
universal peace. Yet Alfred Nobel did just this 
thing. 

The great problem of making war against war 
with a few peace prizes has been likened to fight- 
ing a city fire with a bottle of rose-water. 

There are to-day sixteen million armed men in 
Europe, and great fleets of fighting ships upon 
the seas, while billions in money are spent each 
year to maintain them ; as against all this, there 
are a dozen or so Swedish gentlemen, gathered 
together to divide annually two hundred thou- 
sand dollars among five men who have earned 
recognition in one of five ways. There seems to 
be a hopeless inequality between the two forces ; 
but time must prove whether these efforts, insti- 
tuted by Alfred Nobel, shall be successful. 

Alfred Bernhard Nobel was born in Stock- 
holm, Sweden, in 1833. Emmanuel Nobel, his 
father, was an architect, of an inventive turn of 
mind. While Alfred was still very young, the 
family removed to St. Petersburg, where his fa- 
ther established torpedo-works, and, in the ser- 
vice of the Russian Government, at the time of 
the Crimean War, placed submarine mines in the 
harbor of Kronstadt, with the assistance of one 
of his sons, Robert. Three years after peace was 



THE NOBEL PRIZES 

FOR THE PROMOTION 

OF PEACE 

BY DOROTHY DUDLEY LEAL 

made, in 1859, Emmanuel Nobel returned to 
Sweden, with his family, leaving his second son, 
Ludwig, in charge of the St. Petersburg factory. 

Several years before this, however, Alfred, 
leaving his family in St. Petersburg, had come to 
the United States, where, from 1850 to 1854, he 
studied mechanical engineering with his famous 
fellow-countryman, John Ericsson, the inventor 
of the Monitor. 

For two years following the return of the fam- 
ily to Sweden, Alfred studied explosives with his 
father, and, in 1862, was the first manufacturer 
to produce nitroglycerin in large quantities. Two 
years later, his factory was destroyed by an ex- 
plosion. The following year, however, he built 
another at Krummel, on the Elbe, which is now 
the largest manufactory of explosives on the 
Continent. 

In the factory which he built in Hamburg, he 
discovered, by accident, a new compound, which 
he called dynamite. It could not be exploded, like 
nitroglycerin, by shock, but only with a powerful 
detonator fixed in it with a fuse. This discovery 
revolutionized mining and engineering methods, 
and made possible the construction of our own 
Panama Canal and other important works of our 
time ; while the manufacture of nitroglycerin in 
its various forms became a great industry. From 
this point his business prospered. In a com- 
paratively short time, he formed one company in 
Sweden, two in Belgium, three in France, and 
three in the United States, and a factory was 
started in Scotland, which is now the largest of 
its kind in the world. 

He generally chose his own countrymen for 
responsible positions, and among the vast army of 
workmen whom he employed, and with whom he 
was very generous, it is reported that he never 
had a strike. He was often spoken of as "Nobel 
by name ; noble by nature." 

To know Nobel and to talk with him was in- 
tense enjoyment, as his conversational powers 
were remarkable. But distrusting himself, he 
was bashful to the point of timidity, and held 
himself aloof from social life. No one ever knew 
what he spent on charities, since he gave in secrecy. 

What excitement there must have been when 
Alfred Nobel's will was made public, in 1896! 



THE NOBEL PRIZES FOR THE PROMOTION OF PEACE 



809 



It declared that a portion of the estate, a sum 
about $7,500,000, should constitute a fund, the in- 
terest of which should be divided annually into 
five prizes of $40,000 each, to be given to those 
persons who, during the preceding year, had done 
most for humanity. These prizes should be as 
follows : First, to the person who made the most 
important discovery in the department of phy- 
sics; second, to the person who made the most 
important discovery in chemistry; third, to the 
person who caused the greatest advance in medi- 
cine ; fourth, to the person who produced the 
most excellent work of an idealistic tendency; 
last, to the person who had accomplished most in 
the abolition of armies and the promotion of peace. 

Three corporations were chosen to award the 
Nobel prizes and appoint the Electoral Commit- 
tee. The Royal Academy of Sciences at Stock- 
holm should give the chemistry prize ; the Swed- 
ish Academy, Stockholm, the literary reward; 
and the Caroline Institute of Medicine and Sur- 
gery, Stockholm, the prizes for physics and medi- 
cine. To the Norwegian Storthing, or Parliament, 
was given the right to appoint the Peace Com- 
mittee. 

For admission to the competition, the candi- 
date must be proposed by qualified members. 
This right to present such persons belongs to 
members of the Swedish Academy, the French 
Academy, the Spanish Academy, to members o£ 
literary departments of other academies, to profes- 
sors of literature and history in universities, and 
to such learned men as the committee may invite. 

In place of one person, the honor may be be- 
stowed upon a society; or it may be kept back 
entirely, but each prize must be given once in every 
five years. Besides the cash prize, each winner 
receives a diploma and a gold medal bearing a 
portrait of Alfred Nobel. 

The prizes are a real factor in increasing the 
dignity of a scientific career, and in encouraging 
such work. The money value is large, but the 
fame attached to the honor is all but priceless. 

In spite of Swedish proclivities, it seems that 
Nobel bestowed a special honor on the Parlia- 
ment at Christiania because it was the first offi- 
cial body to attempt an international peace union. 
The peace prize has most attracted the attention 
of the world. 

There is a Board of Administration composed 
of five Swedish members, the president of which 
is named by the king. These men are elected for 
the term of two /ears, commencing May 1. This 
committee manages the fund, pays the prizes and 
all expenses attending their distribution. The 
final votes for each award are taken by these 
men in secret. 

Vol. XL. — 102. 



On December 10, 1901, the fifth anniversary of 
the donor's death, the names of those first hon- 
ored were made known. The king delivered the 
awards at an impressive ceremony. 

Of the sixty-five prizes that have been given 
so far, only two have been awarded to Ameri- 
cans. In 1906, Theodore Roosevelt won the 
peace prize for his services in bringing about 
peace between Japan and Russia. Professor 
Michelson, of Chicago, received the other prize, 
for finding the wave-length of light. Three wo- 
men have been honored by a Nobel prize, Mme. 
Curie, Baroness von Suttner, and Selma Lagerlof. 

What Mr. Carnegie called the "two foulest 
blots" on our nineteenth century were slavery 
and war. Slavery has been abolished ; war re- 
mains. It is a significant fact that the two great- 
est books written on these subjects were novels 
by two women — "Uncle Tom's Cabin," by Har- 
riet Beecher Stowe, and "Lay down your Arms," 
by Baroness Bertha von Suttner. 

Only the mere outline of her life can be given 
here. Bertha Kinsky was born at Prague in 
1843, an d is a descendant of a long and distin- 
guished Austrian military family. As a young 
woman, she resolved to support herself, and ob- 
tained a position as instructor to four daughters 
in the home of Baron von Suttner, in Vienna. 
She held the position of secretary to Alfred No- 
bel shortly after this, and helped him in his work 
until her marriage to Arthur von Suttner. "Lay 
down your Arms" had already made the baroness 
known throughout Europe. She organized, nearly 
twenty years ago, the first Austrian peace soci- 
ety, and she became one of the editors of the 
leading Austrian peace organ ; this brought her 
into contact with the greatest writers and peace 
advocates of the world. During this period, she 
had continued her correspondence with Alfred 
Nobel. It was she who suggested to him the 
founding of the great yearly prizes which bear 
his name. Later she, herself, was crowned with 
the Nobel peace prize. As yet, she is the only 
woman who has received it. Since the death of 
her husband, she is still carrying on the great 
work to which they were devoted. 

We have stated that the clauses in Alfred No- 
bel's will are not really opposed to the work that 
he carried on during his lifetime. Men were but 
too ready to buy his death-dealing explosives ; 
they thought only to hold their own, thereby, 
against their enemies. Nations wasted millions 
of dollars in this way. Alfred Nobel used the 
money so gained as a rebuke to their distrust of 
each other, and to establish the truthfulness of 
Milton's line : 

Peace hath her victories no less renown'd than war. 




THE 
CLEVER FLAMINGOS 

BY DE WITT CLINTON FALLS 



fOIWHOFJUlY 
CELEBRATION 




uyM 



THE FLAMINGOS WERE VERY PATRIOTIC BIRDS, AND WISHED TO HAVE A FOURTH OF JULY 
CELEBRATION OF THEIR OWN, BUT THEY DID NOT KNOW EXACTLY HOW TO DO IT 







UNTIL ONE DAY FATHER FLAMINGO FOUND A FLAS THAT SOME ONE 
HAD DROPPED IN THE ROAD. 



810 




o. <*. 



^» 






SO THEY ORGANIZED A GKAND PARADE ON FOURTH OF JULY MORNING, 




AND AT TWELVE O'CLOCK RAISED THE FLAG WITH APPROPRIATE 
CEREMONIES AND A GKAND SALUTE. 



8u 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 

BY CLEVELAND MOFFETT 

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



Chapter XXII 



RUNAWAY KITES 



The next week saw a remarkable change in the 
ordinary activities of the Bedouin camp. These 
rough men seemed suddenly to lose all interest in 
their plunder and marauding ; they became abso- 
lutely absorbed in the doings of two American 
boys who had taken to making kites. A kite, ap- 
parently, was something that had not been seen 
in the Jordan valley within the memory of the 
oldest robber. 

The first kite was a failure, to Harold's deep 
chagrin, for he made it himself, the day after 
their return from Mar Saba. He wanted partic- 
ularly to have it a success, so that Jack would 
look more favorably upon his rescue idea. But 
the kite behaved badly; it darted from side to 
side in a most discouraging way, and then, after 
diving madly, it smashed itself to pieces on the 
rocks. 

Jack was coldly sympathetic. "What can you 
expect?" he said. "We have n't got the stuff to 
make kites with, we have n't got the right kind 
of paper, or the right kind of sticks, or—" 

"We 've got bamboo. It grows all around 
here," interrupted Harold. "You can't beat bam- 
boo for kite-sticks." 

McGreggor shook his head. "I don't use bam- 
boo in my kites." 

"Your kites? Do you know how to make 
kites?" 

"Do I ?" Jack's s~mile was distinctly patroniz- 
ing. "I not only know how to make 'em, but 
after I 've made 'em, they go up." 

"Huh!" retorted Sandy. "The next one I 
make will go up, all right. I '11 take more pains 
with the measurements. Say, what kind of sticks 
do you use in your kites?" 

"Ash or hickory, if I can get 'em. Bamboo is 
too bulky, and you can't bend it right for the 
crosspiece." 

"Crosspiece? What do you want a crosspiece 
for?" 

"What for? Why, the crosspiece is the whole 
thing. I 'm not talking about a box-kite." He 
glanced contemptuously at the wreck of Harold's 
effort. "I 'm talking about a scientific kite, a 
tailless kite. They 're the only kind, with the 
crosspiece bowed forward against the wind— 
you bend it about four per cent, of the length." 



"Say, you do know a lot about kites !" ad- 
mitted Harold. "Just the same, I can make a 
string of box-kites that will carry that rope. Tell 
you what, you make one your way and I '11 make 
one mine, and we '11 see which flies the best. 
Will you do it, Jack ?" 

McGreggor was somewhat mollified by his 
friend's request, but he still insisted that they 
lacked the proper materials. 

"We can send to Jerusalem for anything we 
want," urged Harold ; "Gabriel is here to do 
what we tell him, those are Basil's orders." 

Finally, Jack allowed himself to be persuaded, 
and three days later, after Gabriel had procured 
what was necessary, he sent up a tailless, dia- 
mond-shaped kite that rose to the height of half 
a mile, and floated proudly over the mountains of 
Judah. 

"There !" said Jack. "That 's what I call fly- 
ing a kite !" 

The Bedouins watched every detail of this op- 
eration with the eagerness of children, and were 
impressed with superstitious awe when a huge, 
silver-tipped eagle swooped down out of the sky 
and circled around and around the kite, as if 
challenging this strange new-comer to aerial 
combat. 

The next day, McGreggor sent up a string of 
tailless kites, three of them hitched tandem to a 
strong, main line. This gave Harold a new idea. 

"Say, Jack, what if we hitched all our kites 
to one line?" 

"You mean box-kites and tailless kites?" 

"Yes. Would the cord hold?" 

McGreggor nodded. "It would hold, all right 

— it 's tested up to a hundred and fifty pounds— 
but — we 'd have to have a reel— with a leather 
brake. You never could hold that line with your 
hands. I 've got six four-footers and you 've got 

— how many box-kites?" 
"Three, but they 're big ones." 

"Nine kites on a single line. By Jove ! I 
should say you could n't hold 'em !" 

Sandy Evans sat silent for several minutes, 
then he came to the great question of rescuing 
Dr. Evans. 

"Jack, that line of kites would carry up the 
silk rope all right, would n't it?" 

"Sure. The silk rope does n't weigh over ten 
pounds. Those nine kites would carry a hundred 
and twenty — easy." 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



813 



"Jack, you did n't believe much in my idea 
when I first sprung it, but— you know what this 
means to me. Maybe you think I ought to have 
done what Father said, and gone right on to Da- 
mascus without fooling around with these kites, 
but—" Harold's voice broke here, although he 
tried to hide his feelings — "I could n't do it, old 
boy; I just could n't leave Father." 

Jack was generous now in his sympathy, and, 
to Harold's surprise, took a new attitude in re- 
gard to the kite plan. 

"I don't know whether we can get away with 
it, Sandy; it 's a long shot, but— I begin to feel 
that you 're working under— higher orders, that 's 
a fact, and — maybe there 's some reason why 
it 's better we should n't go to Damascus." 

This was the second time Jack had revealed an 
unsuspected side to his nature, and Sandy felt 
drawn to his friend more strongly than ever. 

"It 's wonderful, old boy, that you know so 
much about kites," he said simply. "I could 
never have done this thing alone." 

McGreggor laughed. "Wait till I get that silk 
rope up to your father before you hand me any 
more bouquets." 

The boys retired presently, but were awakened 
a few hours later by Khalil, who entered their 
tent with important news. One of his men, 
prowling about near Mar Saba, had passed a 
company of Turkish soldiers, and learned that 
they had been sent to remove an American from 
the convent. The American was evidently Dr. 
Evans. 

Jack sat up in astonishment. "Turkish sol- 
diers ! Say, that shows there is a big man back 
of all' this !" 

"There 's only one thing to do, and we 've got 
to' do it quick," declared Evans, with a funny, 
little sidewise jerk of the head. Then he took 
the^Bedouin aside and talked to him earnestly 
in Arabic. And he gave him a handful of liras, 
whereupon Khalil saluted most respectfully, and 
hurried off. 

"Anyhow, we 've got these Bedouins on our 
side," said Harold. "It 's partly the kites— they 
think we 're a couple of magicians— and it 's 
partly Basil's money, and — besides, they naturally 
hate Turkish soldiers." 

"What are we going to do, Sandy?" 

"We 're going to get that rope up to Father. 
We 've got two days. This is Thursday. To- 
morrow is Friday and a Turkish holiday. So the 
soldiers won't take Father away until Saturday. 
Khalil is sure he can fix that— with the money I 
gave him." 

"Two days !" reflected Jack. "Say, it '11 keep 
us hustling." 



"We '11 hustle !" said Sandy, with grim de- 
cision, "as soon as morning comes !" 

The boys were up soon after daybreak, and 
worked faithfully through the morning, McGreg- 
gor constructing a reel to resist the heavy pull 
of the kite-cord, while Harold experimented with 
the kites themselves. 

And now there came a strange happening that 
nearly upset all their plans of rescue. There was 
a strong wind blowing from the west, and when 
Harold had hitched five kites to the main line, he 
found the pull so strong (sixty or seventy 
pounds, McGreggor estimated) that he felt it 
would not be safe to add any more kites until the 
reel was ready. He was just easing the strain 
by hitching the cord around a venerable fig-tree, 
when there came a cry of surprise from the 
group of Bedouins, and, looking up, Harold dis- 
covered that one of the kites had changed its 
color. It was the leader, a tailless kite covered 
with cherry-red paper, but now, as it swung im- 
pressively against the clear blue sky, Harold saw 
that its red surface was surrounded by a border 
of bright green. 

It did not occur to him to explain this,- as he 
might have done, by what he had learned in his 
text-book on physics, and he stared in astonish- 
ment. He was wearing his glasses, as usual, and, 
thinking they might be blurred, he tucked the 
kite-stick under his arm and tried to clear them, 
but, at this moment, there came a fierce, treach- 
erous gust, and, before Harold realized the 
danger, the whole string of kites, on which 
everything depended, was sailing away down the 
valley and headed straight for the Dead Sea. 

"What are you thinking of !" shouted Jack, as 
he rushed out of the tent and witnessed the dis- 
aster. "Have n't you got any sense ? Did n't 
I tell you we could n't fly these kites without a 
reel?" Then he stopped short in his outburst 
at the sight of Harold's grief-stricken face. 

"You 're right, Jack," said Evans, in dull de- 
spair. "I— I am a chump!" 

The boys stood helpless, with eyes fixed on 
the runaway kites as they swept on, dropping 
lower and growing smaller, until finally they al- 
most vanished in the east. 

"I 'm afraid that ends our program, old boy," 
said McGreggor, kindly. "It 's hard luck." 

"Wait !" cried Harold, who had been shading 
his eyes and staring toward the horizon. "I may 
be crazy, but— Jack ! It seems to me I see those 
kites still. It 's true ! The string has caught on 
something and— quick ! the horses !" he called 
in great excitement. 

"By George ! I believe you 're right !" ex- 
claimed Jack. "I see 'em, too." 



814 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



[July, 



Five minutes later, in spite of the blistering 
heat that sizzled over the Jordan valley during 
these midday hours, the boys, accompanied by 
Deeny and Gabriel and one of the Bedouins, set 
out on a gallop in the direction of the Dead Sea. 
And half an hour later, they reached a pile of 
rocks, where it was found that the stick at the 
end of the kite-cord, as it whirled along, had 
managed somehow to entangle itself in a mound 
of black basalt boulders heaped up here ages 
before, for no other purpose, perhaps, than to 
bring to rest these five wayward kites. 

It was the work of only a few moments to 
secure the runaways, and then the boys threw 
themselves on the ground and rested after their 
efforts and emotions. 

The heat now increased until it became almost 
unbearable, and McGreggor pointed longingly to 
the line of blue water that showed across the 
barren plain. 

"That 's the Dead Sea," said Evans. 

"It may be dead, but it 's wet, and— I 'd give 
anything I 've got for a swim in it." 

"A swim in the Dead Sea," reflected Harold. 
Then he spoke to the Bedouin, who said that it 
would take them hardly more than ten minutes to 
reach this strange body of water. 

"Never mind," urged Jack. "We can't start 
back anyway until it 's cooler, and we 've earned 
a little sport. We '11 take the kites with us." 

So, with light hearts, they turned their horses 
into that strange arid region that lies to the north 
of the Dead Sea. What fantastic shapes of the 
salted sand are here ! Great, white fortresses, 
one would say, that dot the gleaming plain like 
chessmen on a board, weird creations of spongy 
white mud, and, beyond these, the sinister lake 
beneath whose flood the wicked cities of Sodom 
and Gomorrah are believed by some to rest. 

For half an hour the boys swam in the Dead 
Sea, or, rather, lay on it and floated. Any one 
can float in the Dead Sea, by reason of its ex- 
traordinary buoyancy. You stretch yourself out 
as you please, legs up, legs down, on your back, 
on your side, and, whatever you do, you lie 
there, and float. It is impossible to sink in the 
Dead Sea. 

This buoyancy of the water suggested to the 
boys a new and amusing sport with the kites. 
The wind was blowing straight across a rounded 
cove where they were bathing, and they discov- 
ered that they could lie on the water, first one 
at a time and then both together, and let the 
kites tow them across this cove. Then they would 
run back around the bank, leading the kite-string, 
and do it over again. 

"Talk about your motor-boats," laughed Mc- 



Greggor. "Why, these kites would tow us clear 
across the Dead Sea, if the wind held right." 

If the wind held right! At these words the 
boys suddenly became serious. 

"I say, Sandy," said Jack, "do you remember 
how that Mar Saba cave faces?" 

"It faces east," answered Evans. "Don't you 
remember how the sun was full on it that morn- 
ing?" 

"That 's so. Then — if this wind keeps blow- 
ing from the west, it won't do. We 've got to 
have a wind from the east to get that rope up 
to your father." 

"Yes," nodded Harold. "We 've got to have 
a wind from the east. We 're going to have a 
wind from the east." 

"By to-morrow night ? That 's our last chance." 

"I know. The wind will change by to-morrow 
night." 

"But— suppose it does n't change?" 

"It will change," insisted Harold, and his face 
shone with such an inspired light that McGreg- 
gor received his words as a prophecy. 

"Yes," he said simply. "I guess the wind will 
change." 

Chapter XXIII 

THE ESCAPE 

The wind did change. After blowing steadily 
from the west for twenty-four hours, it swung 
around to north at about sundown of the next 
day, and an hour later, it veered suddenly to the 
east and came strongly, with a storm of rain. 

"If we 'd only had paraffined paper," lamented 
Jack, "we could have sent these kites up in the 
wet ! They '11 fly in anything short of a hurri- 
cane, but if we send 'em up now, the paper will 
soak off the sticks." 

"We 've got to send 'em up," decided Harold. 
"It will take some time for the paper to soak off." 
Then he glanced at his Waterbury. "Nine 
o'clock. We need n't start until ten. Maybe it 
will stop raining." 

For half an hour, they worked like beavers on 
the kite-cord, waxing it carefully ; then they 
waxed the surfaces of the kites as well as they 
could, but they knew this precaution would not 
avail against a hard rain. 

At a quarter to ten, the horses and men were 
ready, and a few minutes later, the resolute little 
company, with a full escort of Bedouins, set out 
once more for Mar Saba. When they reached 
the top of the mountain facing the convent, the 
rain had ceased and the wind was blowing a half- 
gale from the east. 

"It beats all how things are coming our way," 
marveled McGreggor. 



I9I3-] 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



815 



Evans looked up earnestly. "You can make 
things come your way, Jack, if you believe in 
'em hard enough. Now let 's hustle !" 

They sent the kites up without difficulty from 
the side of the canon opposite the cave, and saw 
them, one by one, disappear into the gray 
night ; and they felt the pull of the kite- 
cord increase until, even with the reel 
strapped securely to his waist, it took all 
of McGreggor's strength to control the 
nine valiant fliers. 

"Better put that reel on Deeny," ad- 
vised Harold. "He 's got the weight 
and the strength, and when these 
hard gusts come — " 

"That 's all right," panted Jack. 

"Tell Deeny to stand close to me 

and grab the line if I need him. 

Better hitch your rope on, 

Sandy. Say, but these kites 

do pull I" 

With a few deft turns 
Harold made fast the silken 
rope, and then stood wait- 
ing for the next move. 




HOW HAROLDS LEAP WORKED OUT. (SEE 
A. The kite-fliers. B. Harold. C. Kites. D. 

McGreggor was the general here, and he evi- 
dently felt the weight of his responsibility. 

"Now what?" asked Sandy, holding ready the 
coiled-up eighty yards that was to save his fa- 
ther. "Shall we feed her out?" 

Jack shook his head and silently studied the 
up-slanting kite-line and the sky above it, across 
which were hurrying masses of thinning clouds. 

"Wait ! We '11 see better in a minute. It 's 



clearing, Sandy. There 's a moon in there some- 
where behind those clouds." 

Even as he spoke, a small cloud-area bright- 
ened with a diffused radiance that showed where 
the Lady of the Night was hiding herself. And 
presently the opposite precipice came into clearer 
view, and the cave of Wicklow Evans, the top- 
most one with the large opening, the second on 
the right. In front of this cave was the ten-foot 
balcony, and down from this, hugging the preci- 
pice, ran a zigzag of steep ladders that reached 
to the second gallery, some thirty feet below, 
upon which two other caves opened. In each of 
these lower caves, a dim light was burning, 
whereas Dr. Evans's cave was dark. 

McGreggor pointed to these lower lights. 
"They 're guarding the ladders from your fa- 
ther's cave. They think that 's the only way he 
can escape— by the ladders. Sandy, are you sure 
your father is ready? Don't you think we 'd bet- 
ter call to him?" 

"No, no," cautioned Harold. "That would give 
the thing away. Father 's ready, all right. Khalil 
got word to him. He '11 be watching for the rope." 
For some minutes, Jack manceuvered skilfully 
with the kite-cord, reel- 
ing it in or out, and 
walking back and forth 
along the edge of the 
canon, like a sportsman 
playing some huge fish. 

"I want to get the kite 

into the best position I 

can," he explained. "Now 

then ! Feed out your rope. 

Not too fast ! That 's right ! 

Seehowtheyliftit ! Fine !" 

As he spoke, Jack 

reeled out the kite-cord 

steadily. The ascending 

line carried the silk rope 

with it, and when the 

whole eighty yards were 

suspended, the boys were 

delighted to see that the 

lower end of this pendant 

rope hung well below Dr 

Evans's balcony. 

"He 's only got to reach out and grab it when 

we steer it across to him," said Jack, and again 

he manceuvered with the kite-line. "There! 

That 's aimed about right." 

Now he let the reel run out freely, and Harold 
thrilled as each turn of the handle swung the 
dangling rope nearer to the cave. 

As he watched anxiously, young Evans re- 
flected that these two grim precipices, facing 



page 817. 

Balcony. 



816 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



[July, 



each other across the canon, were like two thirty- 
story buildings on a wide city street. He and 
Jack, from the roof of one building, were trying 
to get a rope across to a man in a window on the 
fifteenth story of the opposite building. Only 
this man, Wicklow Evans, had no fire-escapes, 
or marble stairs, or electric elevators to help 
him. He had fifteen stories of sheer rock above 
him, and fifteen stories of sheer rock beneath 
him. 

Suddenly, the moon, emerging from behind her 
thin covering, silvered the mountains with peace- 
ful splendor, and, at this moment, there sounded 
from the convent, hidden around the angle of the 
precipice, a muffled chanting. Harold closed his 
eyes in a swift, silent prayer that he and Jack 
and Deeny might be guided and blessed this 
night in the effort they were making. 

Meantime, McGreggor had made out a dark 
figure moving along the balcony opposite, a fig- 
ure that seemed to be leaning forward. 

"Sandy ! It 's your father !" he whispered. 
"Look ! He 's reaching for it ! He 's got it ! 
He 's got the rope !" 

Harold opened his eyes and saw that the great 
moment had come. The man on the fifteenth 
story of the sky-scraper was about to descend. 
There was nothing the boys could do now except 
to watch breathlessly. 

"I don't like this moonlight," muttered Sandy. 
"I wish he would hurry." 

"He is hurrying. See? He 's hauling down 
the silk rope and the kite-line with it. There ! 
He 's got it. He 's untying it. Catch hold of the 
reel with me, Sandy. This kite-cord 's going to 
snap up like a whip when he lets it go. Ah ! I 
told you." 

As Dr. Evans loosed the rope from the strain- 
ing kite-cord, the latter sprang up so suddenly 
and violently that it hissed through the air and 
dragged the boys forward, although they were 
braced against it. 

"Whoa, there !" puffed McGreggor. "They 
don't pull at all, do they, our little hustlers ! I 've 
got a blister on my thumb from this reel. Whoa, 
there ! Say, it 's lucky I fixed this leather 
brake." 

"Jack ! Look !" Harold touched his friend's 
arm and pointed across the gulf. 

"Oh !" murmured Jack, and straightway forgot 
his kites. 

Dr. Evans's descent had begun, and, in the 
clear moonlight, the boys could follow every detail 
of it as distinctly as if they were seated in a 
theater following some sensational act of a melo- 
drama. There was the silken rope hanging down 
from the little balcony where the escaping pris- 



oner had lashed it, straight down into the void, 
and swaying gently as the night wind caught it. 

"He 's swinging off," whispered McGreggor. 
"He 's got something white in each hand, a hand- 
kerchief probably, so the rope won't burn him. 
Hello! What's that?" 

Just as Dr. Evans began to slide down the 
rope, there came a sound of excited voices, and 
two Turkish soldiers rushed out upon the lower 
balcony and pointed^ with shouts and gesticula- 
tions, to the descending missionary, hanging on 
the rope not twenty feet away from them. It was 
too late for Dr. Evans to draw back. 

"Oh, save my father !" prayed Harold. Then 
he turned away in sickening suspense, as one of 
the Turks leveled his weapon at the descending 
figure. 

"Vnrma!" ("Don't shoot!") said the other sol- 
dier, sharply. 

Sandy faced about with a gasp of joy. Dr. 
Evans was swinging well below his enemies, and 
descending rapidly. It seemed as if the soldiers 
would let him escape without interference, but 
now one of them darted into the cave and ap- 
peared again with something that flashed in the 
moonlight. 

"A hatchet," frowned Jack. "What does he 
want with a hatchet?" 

Now the two soldiers sprang up the zigzag 
ladders that led to the upper balcony where the 
fugitive's rope was attached. They paused long 
enough to stand their guns against the rock, then 
the hatchet man bent eagerly over the knotted 
line, while his companion peered down into the 
depths where Wicklow Evans was hanging a 
hundred feet above-ground, with one leg braced 
against the precipice. He seemed to be resting. 

"Hasir ol!" ("Ready!") called the soldier in 
authority. "Kesmeh, emrivereneh kadar bekleh!" 
("Don't cut until I give the word!") 

The hatchet man lifted his weapon and stood 
waiting. Then Sandy Evans had his great in- 
spiration. 

"I 've got to get over there, Jack," he said 
quickly. "It 's our only chance. I 'm going to 
swing across on this kite-line. It will hold me all 
right. It 's got to hold me." 

"But you can't—" 

"Yes I can. I can hold on by my hands. I 've 
got to. It is n't over a hundred and fifty feet 
across. Steer me for those soldiers. They won't 
know I 'm coming. Now then !" 

Before McGreggor could make further protest, 
Harold, with a smothered, "Good-by, old boy ! 
Good-by, Deeny!" had seized the kite-cord, and, 
with a splendid spring, had hurled himself for- 
ward into the gulf ! 



I9I3-] 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



817 



Chapter XXIV 

OVER THE GULF 

So startled was John McGreggor by this sudden 
happening that he quite forgot all management of 
the kites, and let the cord spin out furiously from 




"A HUGE, SILVER-TIPPED EAGLE CIRCLED AROUND THE KITE. 

the reel, a hundred feet or so, before he recov- 
ered his self-possession sufficiently to press down 
the leather brake. It was perhaps as well that 
he did this, for the impact of Harold's weight in 
that reckless leap might have snapped the kite-cord 
if the strain had not been eased. As it was, it held 
firm, and Jack found himself braced against the 
pull by the clasp of Deeny's mighty arms. 
Vol. XL. -103. 



Sandy Evans, meantime, was clinging for his 

life to the descending line. At first, he dropped 

so rapidly that he thought the cord must have 

broken or the kites collapsed — it was worse than 

the fastest elevator he had ever ridden in, and — 

that was funny — even now, as he fell, he could 

hear an elevator man he had 

*„ known in America, a colored 

man, saying very distinctly : 

"Going down. Call your 

floors, please." 

Presently, Harold's speed 
diminished, as the kites took 
up the slackened cord, and 
he felt himself borne along 
gently, as if on a wonderful 
springy cushion. He decided 
not to look down— yet. There 
was no use getting dizzy. 
He would keep his eyes level, 
fixed on the precipice ahead 
where the cave was. Hello ! 
Where was the precipice ? 
Why could" n't his brain stop 
F\£ spinning around like a top? 

And — oh, dear! if he only 
had something to keep this 
kite-cord from cutting into 
his hands ! 

Such were Sandy's thoughts 
during the space of half a 
minute or less (it seemed an 
hour to him) while he swung 
across the canon in a swift 
downward-slanting line ; a 
moment more, and he bumped 
against the rocky wall. One 
glance downward showed 
him how very brief had been 
the period of his aerial flight, 
for, as he looked, there on 
the balcony about fifteen feet 
beneath him, were the two 
Turkish soldiers, still watch- 
ing the descending figure of 
Wicklow Evans, far below. 
And the hatchet man was still 
waiting the word to cut. 
Harold suddenly realized 
that he was getting very tired. He had been 
hanging by his hands for a long time— thirty sec- 
onds—and his arms ached abominably. Why 
did n't Jack let out more kite-cord and lower him 
down ? What was' the matter with Jack, any- 
way? How long did he think a fellow could 
hang by his hands from a cord that cut like a 
knife? 



11! 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



[July, 



Suddenly, the soldier who was watching called 
out: "Hasir ol!" ("Ready!") 

The hatchet bearer lifted his blade and, at that 
instant, Harold, with his last flicker of strength, 
leaped full at the man, striking him a terrific 
blow with his feet, and hurling him back, com- 




'HAROLD, WITH HIS LAST FLICKER OF STRENGT 
FULL AT THE MAN." 



pletely stunned, upon the balcony. At the same 
time, the boy caught up the hatchet dropped by 
the soldier, and turned to face his other adver- 
sary. This man, however, overcome by terror, 
fell on his knees and begged for mercy. For he 
could not undertake to fight fierce spirits of the 
air that descended upon people out of the night. 



With this great advantage, it was easy enough 
for Evans to tie securely the hands of the two 
Turks, using for this a length of kite-cord that 
he had in his pocket. Then, turning quickly to 
the edge of the balcony, he discovered, to his 
relief, that the silk rope still offered its shining 
way of escape. His father 
had evidently reached the 
ground. 

Pausing only long enough 
to bind up his chafed hands 
with strips of linen torn from 
his handkerchief, Harold 
grasped the rope, and came 
down its eighty yards without 
any mishap except a tear in 
his trousers and a bruise on 
his leg from bumping into a 
projection of the precipice. 

As the young climber ap- 
proached the depths of the 
canon, he found himself greet- 
ed by a murmur of astonished 
voices, and, glancing down, he 
met the upturned faces of a 
group of Bedouins, among 
whom he saw the stately fig- 
ure of Khalil. 

"Where is my father?" was 
Harold's first question, as he 
sprang to the ground. 

The Arab explained that 
Dr. Evans was safe, but he 
had suffered an injury to his 
leg, and two of his men had 
carried him to a point a little 
farther down, where, by an 
easy ascent, he could reach the 
horses that were waiting. 

Without losing an instant, 
Harold hastened to follow 
him, under the guidance of 
Khalil, and on the way ex- 
plained briefly to the Bedouin 
the miracle of his own cross- 
ing over the chasm on" the 
kite-cord. 

A little later, Harold en- 
tered a miserable, mud-walled 
stable, where he found his 
father seated on a wooden bench with his right 
leg bared to the knee, and Gabriel rubbing it by 
the light of a smoky lantern. 

"Father!" cried the boy as he pushed forward 
eagerly. 

The doctor started to his feet in joyful sur- 
prise. 



I9'3-] 



THE LAND OF MYSTERY 



819 



"Harold ! My son ! My boy !" 

For some moments, they stood clasped in each 
other's arms, their hearts full of silent happiness. 
Then, at the doctor's insistence, the lad related, 
as simply as he could, what had happened, and 
how he had got there. And the father's eyes, as 
he listened, shone with gratitude and love, while 
he murmured again and again, proudly and thank- 
fully, "My boy ! My boy !" 

After this, it was Harold's turn, and he asked 
with concern about his father's injury. The doc- 
tor said he had given one of his knee-tendons a 
bad wrench, and it was paining him. No, this 
had not happened in sliding down the rope, al- 
though the spinning around had made things 
worse by striking his knee against a rock— that 
was why he had descended slowly. 

"And now about your mother?" exclaimed 



Wicklow Evans, suddenly. "You have n't said a 
word about your mother. Is she with you? Is 
she well?" he asked eagerly. 

Harold hesitated. He did not know how to 
break the bad news. "I— I think Mother is well, 
but — no, she is n't with me." 

"I suppose you left her in Jerusalem?" 
"No," said Harold, "I — I left her in Egypt." 
"Egypt?" repeated the doctor in astonishment, 
and he was about to seek further enlightenment 
when a rider was heard approaching at a furious 
pace, and a few moments later, Khalil burst in to 
say that they must get into their saddles instantly. 
The alarm had been given in the convent, and a 
company of Turkish soldiers were galloping to- 
ward them in hot pursuit. There was not a sec- 
ond to lose. The party hastily mounted and a 
minute later were gone into the night. 



( To be continued. ) 




"WHY DOES MARY, THE COOK, ALWAYS GET INTO DIFFICULTIES AS 
SOON AS MOTHER GOES OUT?" 



THE OTHER CHERRY-PIE 



BY ANNA MAY COOPER 




This morning Grandma scolded me 

For a thing she thought I 'd done. 
She says she baked two cherry-pies, 

And only could find one. 
So she said of course I took it ; 

I must say I don't see 
Why, when anything is missing, 

They should always pick on me ! 

It 's: "Tommy, where 's my razor?" 

"Tom, you naughty child, 
Where did you put my scissors ? 
You 're enough to drive one wild !" 



It 's only me that tracks in mud, 

And scatters things about ; 
If I speak above a whisper, 

They all say, "Tom, don't shout !" 

Well, I 've run away and left them — 

And I won't go back no more; 
And then they '11 find that things get lost 

Just as they did before. 
And I guess that they '11 feel pretty mean, 

And maybe Mother '11 cry ; 
And I think — perhaps — if I went home — 

I 'd get that other pie ! 



820 




SEEING THE WORLD." — DRAWN BY GERTRUDE A. KAY. 

821 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



BY A. RUSSELL BOND 

Author of " The Scientific American Boy " and " Handyman's Workshop and Laboratory ' 



Chapter VIII 

CARS THAT TRAVEL SKYWARD 

Will and I were sauntering down Broadway one 
day, when a man suddenly grabbed me by the 
arm. "Hello !" he cried, "are n't you the boys 
that blew in from the clouds up at the top of the 
Manhattan Syndicate Building?" 

"Why, how do you do, Mr. Hotchkiss," we both 
exclaimed. 

"I 'm well, thanks. But where have you been 
all this time? Why have n't you been around to 
see me?" 

"We have really intended to," apologized Will, 
"but you know there is such a lot of interesting 
work going on in New York, and we have had so 
much to see — " 

"So much to see? So you are still at it, are 
you? Mr. Squires told me about the narrow es- 
cape in the caisson, and I had about concluded 
that your experience there had cured you of some 
of your inquisitiveness." 

"We have had a worse experience than that. 
We were in a pretty bad blow-out in one of the 
tunnels under the river." 

"You don't mean the time the fellow was blown 
through the river-bed?" 

"Yes, we were right alongside of him when it 
happened ; and then we were on the new bridge 
when it took fire." 

"What !" 

"Yes, we had quite a time of it, dodging embers 
and red-hot bolts all the way down the tower." 

"Good gracious !" exclaimed Mr. Hotchkiss, "if 
I had known what 'hoodoos' you were, I would 
have 'shoo-ed' you right out of my building ! 
Why, you are positively dangerous to have 
around ! Come in here quick, before a cyclone 
strikes us, or a safe falls on our heads !" Mr. 
Hotchkiss hustled us into a restaurant. "I want 
you to lunch with me, and tell me the whole 
story of your experiences. Three narrow escapes 
in succession ! and here I was just going to send 
you over to another job. Now, I don't believe I 
dare assume the responsibility." 

"We have had some rather exciting times," 1 
admitted, "but I thought that they were very 
common in big engineering jobs." 

"There is real danger in all big work, but such 
a run of accidents as you have had is decidedly 
out of the ordinary; and if you keep on, you will 

Copyright, 1913, by A. Russell Bond. 8: 



get so bad a reputation that no one will want 
you around." 

"But how can we help it?" 

"I don't suppose you can. It is about time your 
luck turned, though. I '11 try you on this next 
thing, anyway, and see whether you can't come 
off without an accident. As a matter of fact, I 
can't imagine what could happen this time." 

"What is the job?" asked Will, eagerly. 

"There are all sorts of transportation systems 
in this town," began Mr. Hotchkiss, "to bring 
New York's teeming population to and from work 
every day. The trolleys, or surface lines, carry 
something like two million passengers per day, 
and the elevated railways nearly a million and a 
half, while the subways take in just about a mil- 
lion fares. But there is a transportation system 
here in this city that carries more than all the 
rest put together— eight million passengers per 
day." 

"Eight millions! What, here in New York?" 

"Yes„ in Manhattan alone." 

"Why, I thought there were only five million 
people all told in Greater New York." 

"People, yes, but I said passengers. One man 
could be a dozen passengers if he took a dozen 
trips in a day. Yes, sir, it is the greatest and 
busiest transportation system in the world, yet 
it does n't take in a single fare. What 's more, 
it is one of the safest forms of transportation. 
Have you guessed what I am talking about?" 

"It 's too much for me," I confessed. 

'Y'ou don't mean the elevators, do you?" 
queried Will. "They are not any too" safe, from 
what I hear." 

"That is exactly what I do mean, and I will 
prove to you that you are safer riding on an ele- 
vator than walking the street. On the average, 
there are no less than three hundred killed and 
many thousands injured on the streets of New 
York every year. In ten years, there have been 
only thirty-eight killed and two hundred and sev- 
enty injured in elevators in Manhattan, and when 
you consider that there are nine thousand passen- 
ger-elevators and sixteen thousand freight-eleva- 
tors in the borough, running up-and down all day, 
the wonder is that the accidents are so few.. Why, 
if you put all those elevator-shafts together, one 
on top of the other, they would reach five hun- 
dred miles in the air. That would give you a 
pretty good start toward the moon. And eight 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



823 



million passengers ! That is more than all the 
railroads of the country carry in a week; and 
railroad injuries run up into the thousands every 
year. In the Manhattan Syndicate Building, we 
are going to have the finest system of elevators 
in the world, all driven by electricity, a regular 
railroad system, with "locals" and "expresses" — 
some of them running up to the twenty-eighth 
floor without a stop." 

"It must take an awful lot of power to lift an 
elevator," I remarked. 

"Not as much as you think. In fact, it often 
takes more power to run an empty car down than 
a partly loaded one up." 

"Why, how can that be !" we both exclaimed 
in astonishment. 

"It is like this. A car is always balanced with 
a counterweight. The cables that run up from 
the top of the car pass over a set of sheaves or 
pulleys at the top of the shaft, and at their other 
ends they are attached to the counterweight. 
Usually the counterweight is made heavy enough 
to balance the weight of the car with half a load 
of passengers. Now, if the brakes should give 
way on the winding-drum at the top of the shaft 
while a car is standing empty half-way up the 
shaft, it would actually fall up instead of down, 
because it would be so greatly overweighted by 
the counterbalance. You see, all the motor has to 
do is td move the difference in weight between 
the car with its passengers and the counterweight ; 
and this can never equal more than half the 
weight of the passengers. But I don't suppose 
you would find our elevator system half so in- 
teresting as the one I am going to send you to. 
The only uncommon thing we have is an 'air- 
cushion,' but that is not very unusual any more. 

"By an air-cushion, I mean," he continued in 
answer to our question, "a scheme for retarding 
the car in case it should fall by any mischance. 
The bottom of each shaft is sealed in with air- 
tight steel doors, so as to make a rectangular 
pocket in which the car fits like a plunger in a 
cylinder. Now, if the car should drop into that 
pocket at high speed, it would compress the air 
under it to such an extent as to form a pneumatic 
cushion that would check its fall. Our highest 
elevator-shaft will be six hundred and eighty 
feet high, the highest continuous elevator-shaft 
in the world, and, as- you can imagine, a car 
would be traveling if it fell that far ! We don't 
dare to make the stop too abrupt, for it would 
hurt the passengers, and then, too, it would be 
liable to burst out the doors, so we don't make 
too close a fit of the car floor in the shaft. But 
that means that we have to extend the air pocket 
to a considerable height. On those high shafts, 



the air pocket extends up one hundred and thirty- 
seven feet, or ten stories. You could cut the ca- 




L^bi 




HIGHLY 
COMPRESSED 




OPERATION OF THE 
AIR-CUSHION 

SAFETY-STOP. 

The figure on the left 
illustrates the air-cushion 
built with a tapering or 
flared top, andas the ele- 
vator descends through 
this, the air-escape is 
automatically reduced, 
the vehicle being 
checked without vio- 
lence in its fall. A and 
B show the car at dif- 
ferent points in the in- 
closed shaft and drop- 
ping at different speeds. 
The other figure illus- 
trates the same principle 
of the air-cushion with a 
taper slot for the escape 
of the air taking the 
place of the entrance 
flare. The dropping 
car, in combination with 
this slot, automatically 
diminishes the passage 
for the escaping air. 



By courtesy of the " Scientific American." 



bles with the car at the top of the shaft and let it 
fall. It would be making something like one 
hundred and thirty-two miles per hour when it 



824 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



[July, 



splashed into the air pocket, but when the air 
was compressed under it, and squeezed up be- 
tween the car floor and the walls of the pocket, 
it would retard the car to such an extent that it 
would settle down to the ground floor without a 
serious jar." 

"Has any one ever- tried it?" I inquired. 

"Oh, yes, it has been tried often enough. The 




THE HEAD-FRAME OF AN AQUEDUCT SHAFT 
IN CENTRAL PARK, NEW YORK CITY. 



designer of our elevators is going to make the 
trip himself to prove that everything is all right." 

"Oh, say! could we go with him?" put in Will, 
excitedly. 

"What ! with your reputation ! Well I should 
say not !" 

"But there is n't any danger, is there?" 

"No, no danger whatever," said Mr. Hotchkiss. 
"Yet you never can tell. A man was fatally in- 
jured in a test like that once, and you could n't 
guess why." 

We shook our heads. 

"Because, instead of standing, he sat in a 
chair! You think I am joking, don't you? but 
I am perfectly serious, I assure you. I '11 tell 
you how it was. If you should drop freely for 



a hundred feet, and then take twenty-five feet in 
which to come to a stop, you would have to lose 
speed four times as fast as you gained it; and 
so, while you were losing speed, you would be 
adding four pounds to every pound you weigh. If 
you weighed one hundred and fifty pounds nor- 
mally, you would suddenly find yourself weigh- 
ing six hundred pounds more, or seven hundred 
and fifty pounds altogether. The weight would be 
so well distributed that you could stand it if you 
kept your legs firmly braced, but it would be 
more than a frail chair could endure. That is 
how it was in the case I spoke of. The chair 
was smashed by the suddenly increased load, and 
the man was fatally injured by one of the splin- 
ters." 

"But if that is the only danger," persisted Will, 
"I don't see why we could n't take the trip. We 
would n't think of sitting down. I 'd like to see 
how it feels to fall five hundred feet in an ele- 
vator." 

"You would n't enjoy it. I dropped twenty 
feet once in an ordinary elevator before the safe- 
ty-catches stopped the car, and I don't care to do 
it again. Why, do you know, that car fell so 
fast I could n't catch up to it ! I must have 
given a sort of involuntary spring when the car 
first started, because my feet were a foot off the 
floor all the way down. Of course I was falling 
all the time, but the car kept ahead of me until it 
stopped. Then down I went in a heap on the 
floor. It was all over in an instant, but I lived 
a lifetime in that instant, wondering whether the 
safety-catches were going to save me. The ele- 
vator man, who was the only other one in the 
car, had evidently jumped too, because his head 
was up against the roof all the way down. No, 
I don't believe you would enjoy the experience, 
and I assure you that I won't let such unlucky 
scamps as you two try it. Something would 
surely happen !" 

"What is that other elevator you were going 
to tell us about?" 

"I am not going to tell you about it. I am go- 
ing to let you see it for yourselves." 

He took out his card, wrote an address on the 
back of it, and a word of introduction to a "Mr. 
Williams." "Now show that to Mr. Williams, 
and he will let you see something that will inter- 
est you, I think. Don't forget to come back and 
report any adventures you may experience." 

When we reached the address to which Mr. 
Hotchkiss sent us, we were surprised to find, in- 
stead of a finished building, a fenced-in lot in 
which they were still at work upon the founda- 
tions. 

"This can't be the place," said Will. "They 



1933] 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



825 



would hardly be putting in the elevators before 
the building was started." 

"Maybe he meant next door, in that sky- 
scraper," I suggested. 

Fortunately, the elevator starter of the next 
building happened to know the Mr. Williams for 
whom we were looking, and sent us back to the 
adjacent lot. "You will find Williams on the 
job over there. He is superintending the driving 
of the deepest bore on record." 

That puzzled us all the more, as we could n't 
see, for the life of us, what that had to do with 
the construction of an elevator. Sure enough, 
when we got there inside the fence and were 
directed to Mr. Williams, we found that he was 
overseeing the sinking of some sort of a shaft. 
A jolly individual he was, exceedingly fat, and 
well bespattered with mud. He waddled over 
to us, looked at our card of introduction, then 
shook us heartily by the hand. 

"So you 've come over to see how we dig a 
hole, have you? We are down two hundred and 
sixty feet in one shaft, and we still have to go 
one hundred and five feet more ; three hundred 
and sixty-five feet, think of it ! How is that for 
a hole, and only twelve inches in diameter, too?" 

"But what has that to do with elevators?" we 
asked. 

"Why, this is to be a plunger-elevator. Did n't 
Mr. Hotchkiss tell you?" Then Mr. Williams 
explained to vis how the thing worked. 

Probably most of the boys who read this story 
know what a plunger-elevator is, but we were 
rather green, and had to be told. "In each of 
these deep holes," explained Mr. Williams, "we 
are going to fit a steel cylinder, nine inches in 
diameter inside, and closed at the bottom. 
Within the cylinder there is to be a plunger six 
and one half inches in diameter. The plunger is 
going to pass through the stuffing-box at the top 
of the cylinder, just like the stuffing-box of a 
steam-cylinder where the piston comes out. The 
plunger is fully as long as the cylinder, and 
upon it the elevator car is mounted. Now, when 
water is let into the cylinder under pressure, it 
forces out the plunger, raising the car. What 
surprises most people is that the plunger does 
not have a piston-head on its lower end, but is 
merely a straight piece of steel tubing down to 
the very bottom, where it is closed with a cap, 
and has two or three guides on it to keep it cen- 
tered in the cylinder. When the water is forced 
in, it exerts a pressure in all directions on the 
cylinder as well as on the plunger, but nothing 
can yield to that pressure except the bottom of 
the plunger, which is raised, and so pushes the 
elevator car up. I will take you over to the next 
Vol. XL. — 104. 




building and show you the whole thing in a min- 
ute, as soon as you have seen how we sink the 
shafts." 

They were hauling up one of the boring tools 
just then. It was on the end of a cable attached 
to a "jumping" machine. 
Slowly the cable was wound 
up, and the length of time it 
took to raise the tool gave us 
some idea of the enormous 
depth to which the shaft 
had already been sunk. 
When the tool finally came 
up, we found that it was flat, 
with a cutting edge some- 
thing like a chisel. It was 
pretty badly worn, and a 
newly sharpened one was put 
in its place ; then down went 
the tool into the long, deep 
bore. When it reached the 
bottom, the line was pulled 
up until the tool scarcely 
touched, after which the ma- 
chine was started, and drill- 
ing was resumed. Mr. Wil- 
liams told us that the tool 
would not be allowed to hit 
the rock with hammer-blows 
like a pile-driver, for it 
would be sure to turn off 
sidewise and follow a seam 
or a fault, making a crooked 
hole. Instead, the tool was 
dangled so that it just barely 
touched, then, as it was 
jumped by the machine, the 
stretch of the cable at each 
yank would let it strike the 
rock with a light, springy 
blow that could not turn out 
of line ; at each blow of the 
tool it was turned around 
slowly, so that it would 
pound out a circular hole. 
The rock dust was carried to 
the surface by forcing water 
into the bore, so that it was 
a rather mussy job. 

"Before we came to solid 
rock," explained Mr. Wil- 
liams, "we had to go through 
about eighty feet of sand, and the boring was 
then done with a water jet. This steel tubing," 
he said, pointing to the lining of the hole, "was 
sunk into the sand by forcing water at high pres- 
sure against the sand through a jet placed in the 













*•>- --V 


1 


WHAWT 






SAND 




1 












a f .- 


"1 1 


-■■a roqk 


-■<■ >■ 




■ \f^ 


flft-CVl'NDEB 






-Pt U N«R 



{: 



HOW A PLUNGER- 
ELEVATOR IS BUILT. 



826 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



[July, 



bottom of the tubing. The water loosened the 
sand, and it was carried up and out of the hole 
with the overflow." 

After we had seen our fill of the shaft-sinking, 
Mr. Williams took us over to the next building, 
and showed us how plunger-elevators are op- 
erated. 

"These elevator-shafts are not nearly as long 
as the ones we are building next door. They are 
only two hundred feet high." 

We watched one of the elevators go up, pushed 
by the light plunger of hollow steel only six 
inches in diameter. Beads of water trickled down 
the black, oily surface. As the car went up higher 
and higher, the slender plunger began to sway as 
if it were a flexible rope. The car was carrying 
a heavy load of passengers, and I supposed that 
that was the reason for the unsteadiness of the 
plunger. 

"It does not seem to be standing the weight 
very well," I said. "It looks almost as though it 
would buckle." 

" 'Weight !' " he quoted. "Why, that plunger 
is not doing much more than to carry the pas- 
sengers. The counterweight balances about eighty 
per cent, of the weight of the car and the plunger. 
I don't know exactly what these plungers weigh, 
but in our elevators next door they will weigh 
close to five and one half tons. If you loaded 
one of them on a truck, it would take four horses 
to draw it. But if the cables to the counter- 
weight should break, the car would buckle and 
crumple up that tube as if it were made of rub- 
ber." 

"That would break the force of the fall, at any 
rate," remarked Will. 

"Yes, if the tube did n't snap in two, and a 
jagged piece of it pierce the floor of the car, and 
injure one or two of the passengers." 

"But suppose the plunger broke off and the 
counterweight cables did n't?" I suggested. 

"Why, the car would be relieved of the weight 
of the plunger, and it would shoot up to the top 
of the shaft like a rocket. But an accident like 
that is next to impossible. Yet I did once hear 
of a case when a car was undergoing repairs. 
In overhauling the car, the plunger connection 
had been carelessly loosened without fastening 
the car down, when suddenly, without any warn- 
ing, the strain of the counterweight wrenched 
the car free from the plunger, and up it shot, 
smashing itself free at the top of the shaft, and 
then falling down to the bottom again. But such 
a combination of carelessness would probably 
never happen again, and the plunger-elevator can 
be regarded as a pretty safe kind." 

Mr. Williams then showed us through the 



power plant, and explained how the pumps kept 
the pressure tank up to the proper pressure, and 
that each tank had some air trapped in it which 
acted as a sort of spring, so that, when the ele- 
vator man turned the valve lever and the water 
rushed into the plunger cylinder, it was forced 
out at a constant pressure by the air; and when 
he turned the valve the other way, the water 
poured out of the cylinder into a reservoir, being 
squeezed out by the weight of the car and the 
unbalanced weight of the plunger. When the 
pressure in the tank fell too low, a pump would 
start up automatically and pump water out of the 
reservoir into the pressure tank until the desired 
pressure was restored. 

Fortunately no accident befell us on this occa- 
sion, and we had a very tame story to report to 
Mr. Hotchkiss. But although there was nothing 
very thrilling and deliciously exciting about ele- 
vators and "jump" drilling, we felt that we had 
learned something worth while; also it made an 
interesting page in the diary that Uncle Edward 
had asked us to keep. I had taken over the task 
of writing the diary, because it seemed to me 
that, in this way, I might repay in a small mea- 
sure my obligations for the fine vacation I was 
having at Uncle Edward's expense. 

Chapter IX 

QUENCHING A CITY'S THIRST 

W t hen a country boy visits New York, about the 
last place he wants to see is the park, and then 
all he cares about in the park is the "Zoo." Thus, 
Will and I took in nearly all the other sights be- 
fore we went up to see the little patch of make- 
believe country in the center of the big city. 
What struck us as of particular interest was, 
not the rolling lawns, nor the lake, nor the wind- 
ing paths through the woods, but something that 
had no business in the park at all. It was right 
alongside one of the sunken "transverse" streets 
that run across the park. There was a high, 
board fence inclosing a yard with several sheds, 
and a wooden tower that was very evidently the 
head-frame of a shaft. 

We ran to the bridge across the "transverse" 
to see what was going on. As we watched, a 
cage rose quickly to the top of the head-frame, 
a car tilted forward, its end gate swung open, 
and out poured a load of broken rock into a 
large hopper beneath. Then the cage started 
down again, dragging the car back with it into 
the shaft. It was a rather deep shaft, too, judg- 
ing by the length of time that the cable was un- 
reeling. Down in the "transverse" below the 
hopper was a cart taking on a load of rock. 



I9I3-] 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



827 



"I wonder what it can be?" queried Will, excit- 
edly. 

"A new subway, maybe," I responded. "They 
have been talking about one lately." But a man 
who was leaning over the rail beside us broke in 
with the information that it was the new aque- 
duct. 

"Oh, yes," I chimed in, "Mr. Price told us we 
must surely see it. Don't you remember, Will?" 

"It 's a whale of a job, too," said the stranger. 
"The biggest thing of the kind ever undertaken. 
There never was anything to compare with it." 

"How about the Roman 
aqueducts?" I put in. 

"A mere trickle of wa- 
ter," he said contemptu- 
ously. "Why, this aque- 
duct is going to be four- 
teen feet in diameter. Yes, 
seventeen feet in some 
places; and when it is en- 
tirely completed and worked 
to its fullest capacity, it can 
furnish us every day with 
five hundred million gal- 
lons of water, brought here 
all the way from the Cats- 
kill Mountains. It is one 
hundred and twenty-seven 
miles from the proposed 
upper lake down to the 
reservoir in Staten Island. 
That 's quite a river 
is n't it? While with the 
five hundred million gallons 

that we get now from the present systems, there 
will be enough to supply every man, woman, and 
child in' Greater New York with two hundred 
gallons per day." 

"How much is two hundred gallons?" I in- 
quired. 

"About three bath-tubfuls, all good, clear, clean 
water." 

"But what in the world do they expect to do 
with all that water?" 

"At present, they are not going to complete 
much more than half the work in the mountains. 
They are merely making provision for the fu- 
ture. I suppose, in fifty years' time, New York 
will be so large that even this supply of water 
will not be enough, and then people will have to 
tap Lake Champlain, or Niagara, or something. 
You young fellows ought to go up to Ashokan, 
and see the work they are doing there. They 
are building a dam a mile long and two hundred 
and twenty feet high, and then there will be dikes, 
and embankments, and weirs, making, altogether, 



about five and one half miles of masonry and 
earthworks that will turn a whole valley into a 
lake. Why, they have had to move seven villages 
and thirty-five cemeteries to make room for that 
lake. On the other side of the mountain, they 
have planned for another large lake, and the two 
lakes are to be connected by a tunnel. From the 
Ashokan reservoir, they are going to convey the 
water by means of pipe-lines and tunnels down 
to the Hudson River at Breakneck Mountain, 
and there, to my mind, is the most wonderful 
thing of the whole system. They are going to 




now THE AQUEDUCT TUNNEL UNDER THE HUDSON IIOO FEET BELOW THE SURFACE. IN 
SEARCH FOR GOOD ROCK, INCLINED TEST-BORINGS WERE MADE FROM EACH 
SIDE OF THE RIVER, MEETING AT A DEPTH OF 950 AND 1500 FEET. 

dip under the Hudson River with a tunnel eleven 
hundred feet below the surface." 

I had been suspecting that the man was exag- 
gerating a good deal, and now I was sure of it. 
"Come off," I interrupted, rather impertinently. 
"You can't 'put that over' on us. We know some- 
thing about tunneling and excavating in this 
neighborhood, and we know that the deepest hole 
ever dug in New York did n't go one hundred 
and ten feet below water-level ; and then the 
air-pressure in the caisson was so heavy that the 
men could only put in two hours of work a day." 

"But," explained the man, "this is not caisson 
work. The 'siphon' under the river is being put 
through solid rock, where they do not have to 
bother with pneumatic pressure. Why, it is just 
because they wanted solid rock that they had to 
go so deep. This tunnel is being built to last for- 
ever. Nothing short of an earthquake can hurt it, 
and the chances of an earthquake in New York 
are pretty slim, according to what geologists tell 
us." 



828 



WITH MEN WHO DO THINGS 



"It seems to me it is pretty dangerous work," 
put in Will. "Suppose they should strike a break 
in the rock. Just think with what pressure the 
water would pour in, and drown them !" 

"You may be sure they thought of that before 
they started excavating. Borings were made to 
find out what sort of rock they had to go through. 
First they started boring from a scow anchored 
in the middle of the river. They had all sorts of 
trouble, too. Once a string of canal-boats banged 
up against the scow and broke it from its moor- 
ings, smashing the drill. Then, another time, the 
ice carried the scow off. Finally, they gave it up 
after drilling down seven or eight hundred feet 
without coming across anything but an occasional 
boulder. It seemed as if that river had no bot- 
tom at all. At any rate, it was not worth while 
trying to reach it from so unsteady a base as a 
scow ; so, instead, they began drilling on a slant 
from each side of the river, at such an angle that 
the drill holes would meet at a depth of about 
fifteen hundred feet below the middle of the river. 
The drills went through rock all the way, and no 
water was struck. So then they bored another 
pair of test holes that met at a depth of nine 
hundred and fifty feet, going through solid rock 
all the way. That decided them that it would be 
perfectly safe to run the siphon through at the 
eleven-hundred-foot level." 

"How do you happen to know so much about 
the matter?" we inquired. 

"Oh, I am just a taxpayer, but I like to know 
what I am paying for with my taxes; besides, 
I 'm proud of New York's big undertakings." 

"Jim, we 've got to go up and see that work," 
said Will. "My, but it would be interesting !" 



"There is a good deal to interest you right 
here, too," continued the stranger. "Do you 
know the tunnel at this shaft is two hundred and 
fifty feet below the surface? And it goes right 
down the island of Manhattan at about that same 
depth, and then it goes under the East River, dip- 
ping down to a depth of over seven hundred and 
fifty feet, so as to keep in solid rock all the way." 

"But why don't they put pipes down?" 

"There are lots of reasons. They would cost 
more. Two or three pipes would be necessary 
because a single pipe to carry all that water 
would be out of the 'question, and then there 
would be the expense of flexible joints, which 
would have to be strong enough to carry the pres- 
sure, and to keep the pipes from breaking under 
the drag of the tide. Oh, yes, pipes would in- 
volve constant care to keep them from breaking 
or rusting through. I don't believe you realize 
what an enormous pressure of water there will 
be in this rock tunnel. Why, in the down-town 
section, the pressure will be enough to send the 
water up to the top of a twenty-five-story build- 
ing without pumping. In fact, most of the pump- 
ing stations around the city now will no longer 
be necessary." 

We must have spent an hour or more with 
this chance acquaintance, discussing the wonder- 
ful work on this tremendous engineering under- 
taking. We got so excited over the matter that 
we started down-town at once to visit Mr. Price, 
and get a letter of introduction to the chief en- 
gineer of the aqueduct. We were eager to go up 
the Hudson and see for ourselves the work on 
the great siphon. We thought it would be quite 
a stunt to go down a thousand feet under ground. 



( To be continued ) 



A GAY VACATION SONG 



BY LOUISE SEYMOUR HASBROUCK 



(To be sting 'with a hop, skip, and jump) 



Oh, / know what I '11 do, I '11 do, 

As soon as school is through, is through ! 

I '11 shout and play 

The whole long day, 
And never once be blue, be blue ! 



And when I hear the rain, the rain, 
Go "plop" against the window-pane, 

I '11 find such books 

And cozy nooks, 
I '11 hate to stir again, again ! 



And / know where I '11 be, I '11 be, 
As soon as I am free, so free ! 
With daisies white 
In green fields bright, 
And very near the sea, the sea ! 



And then when summer 's done, all done, 
And we are brown with sun, with sun, 

And days are cool, 

We '11 go to school, 
And, after all, that 's fun, that 's fun ! 



SO MANY RELATIVES" 




With all ©urBn^lish Cousins 
.And tny own de ar Uncle S am, 
1 Ve d ot s o m any relatives 
X scarce know who I. am ; 

Maybe these children on the screen , 
IBeside the mantel-piece, 
''■Are frty little JTapatiephew 

v.Ati^.nry little JFapaniece. 



G. BUTLlLf 



829 




GARDEN-MAKING 
GARDEN'S 



AND SOME OF THE 
STORIES 



III. THE STORY OF THE REBELS WHO ARE NEVER TAMED AND 
THE KEEPERS OF THE PEACE 

BY GRACE TABOR 



Have you ever gone to the Zoo, or to the circus, 
and looked at the animals in their cages, and then 
thought what would happen if all the bars were 
suddenly to fall down and let them out? The 
lions, and tigers, and bears, and wolves, and leop- 
ards, the hippopotami and the elephants, all the 
snakes, and every other kind of thing that is 
there, carefully kept in restraint so that we may 
safely and pleasantly go and look at them ! What 
would happen to them? And what would happen 
to us! It is not exactly pleasant to consider, is 
it? 

Yet, quite the same sort of thing is, perhaps, 
happening, this very minute, right out there un- 
der the windows ! — summer brings so many, many 
things that are so much pleasanter than being a 
kind of special policeman. There is base-ball, 
and all kinds of games, with and without names, 
and picnics, and expeditions, and what-not; really, 
I should not be in the least surprised if just such 
a desperate state of affairs existed, all unsus- 
pected. It did, at least, in the garden which we 
have been hearing about — the garden of the little 
sage. He had been busy at ever so many of these 
other things that come along in summer to take 
up the time; and possibly he was just a little bit 
tired of grubbing, too. That sometimes happens, 
you know, and then one is apt to forget that it is 
necessary. 

So he was very much surprised— and disap- 
pointed, if the truth were known— when he made 
the discovery. For, by the time he found out, 
every living inhabitant of that garden was be- 
having in the most dreadful manner— trampling, 
fighting, and struggling for first place ! Truly it 
was shocking; and he felt quite sure, after look- 
ing on at the riot for a while, that it was only 
the dullness of his ears that saved him from hear- 
ing the most horrifying language. To think that 
his lovely flowers could behave so ! 

"They 're all just perfectly wild," he reflected, 



as he looked about in aggrieved amazement ; "and 
I do believe they can't be trusted a minute !" 

He began to feel quite indignant at them when 
the first surprise was over, for it seemed as if 
they must know better than to act like this. But 
that, of course, is just the point; they do not 
know any better, any more than the animals at 
the Zoo, who would fall upon each other, and 
bite, and claw, and throttle, and kill, if they were 
not watched and carefully restrained. Not a one 
of the lovely garden folk ever properly behaves 
himself or herself from choice; and even the 
most exquisite and dainty flower, that has never 
known any conditions but those of a well-kept 
garden — the flower or plant that has descended 
from ages and ages of "tame" ancestors— is at 
heart as wild as any dweller in the wilderness, 
and as ready to fight, in its own way. All the un- 
ruly spirit that pushes, and crowds, and kills, for 
the sake of its own desires and needs, without 
regard for anything else in all creation, is as 
strong in it as it is in the great tigers and lions 
that are only safe for us to visit because their 
cages are good and stout, and well guarded. 

So we who would make gardens, and have 
them, must do very much what the animal train- 
ers and keepers do : we must keep our gentle lit- 
tle charges with constant watchfulness, lest this 
innate wildness which they never lose break into 
rebellion and destroy them and their neighbors. 
Remember they are gentle only to us; to each 
other they are fierce as savages. 

All tending of the garden, therefore, is a kind 
of flower taming and a flower policing combined; 
and thus we, as gardeners, become to the flowers 
officers of law, and order, and justice, as well as 
trainers very like the trainers of animals. And 
we must work with them in a way that combines 
these two parts that we play toward them. We 
must compel obedience to our wishes, and to the 
law which the best interests of all the garden 



8 3 o 



GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN'S STORIES 



831 



inhabitants has formulated; but we must never 
break the spirit of a plant, and so spoil it, in the 
process of enforcing this obedience. We must 
know something about them, and understand all 
their little natural ways first, before undertaking 
to do anything with them— toguideanddirectthem. 

Pruning, tying up, and tilling the soil are all 
methods of "taming" ; we already know some- 
thing about the last of these, and tying up or 
staking is almost sure to come instinctively when 
we see a plant that needs it; but pruning, which 
is cutting away parts of a plant, must be inves- 
tigated to a considerable degree. This is not the 
time of year for pruning in general ; but the 
"pinching back," which we hear and read so 
much about at this season, in connection with 
growing flowers particularly, is really a kind of 
pruning. So I want you to know, right away, 
some of the things which every one ought to 
know before they venture to cut off or pinch back 
a single bud or branch. 

There is first of all something which we must 
never forget about plants. Here it is : all plants, 
whatever they may be, grow at their tips. That 
is, they grow by lengthening at the ends of the 
branches. Of course branches themselves grow 
larger around from one end to the other, during 
each season ; but they do not grow longer any- 
where but at their ends. It is to the end of the 
branch that there is the strongest rush of sap, 
hence the leading or end bud, called the terminal 
bud, or "leader," is best nourished — indeed, it is 
fairly pushed right out by the great steady pres- 
sure behind it, so that every day it reaches far- 
ther and farther up toward the sky. Please re- 
member this about growth, and how it is carried 
on— always ! 

Next, there is the most important thing of all 
to remember about pruning; and this is, that 
pruning the tips of the branches always causes 
growth lower down on the tree, or shrub, or 
plant thus treated, while pruning off entire 
branches at the point where they rise along a 
stalk or trunk, causes heavier growth at the top 
of the tree, shrub, or plant, but makes its general 
form more slender and open. To make a tree, or 
a shrub, or a vine, or a flowering plant, or any 
kind of vegetable grow more branches, therefore, 
and thus become thicker and denser, cut off the 
ends or tips of its branches. But!— to make a 
tree, or a shrub, or a vine, or a flowering plant, 
or any kind of vegetable grow less dense, and 
taller, or longer— to thin it, as the gardeners say 
— cut off entire branches right down close to the 
main stalk where they rise, or at the ground, if 
they start there. Let us have this illustrated 
right here and now, so we shall not forget. 



All kinds of hedges that are sheared evenly 
once or twice a year grow very thick and stiff, 
you know, until they become almost like a solid 
wall. But if bushes just like those that stand 
close together to form a hedge are left unpruned, 
they grow up tall and spreading, and not in the 
least like a wall. This is the best example I 
know of what cutting away the tips of any plant 
constantly will do. It simply forces the growth of 
more branches, every time it is done, just below 
where the cuts are made. 

How does it force the growth of more branches, 
you say? By taking away the growing tip from 
the branch cut (a growing tip or bud it simply 
must have, you know), and then, when the sap 
rushes up just the same into the end of the 
branch, running strong and rich right to the very 
tip, it finds there no bud to receive it. So it has 
to work its way back until it does find a bud; the 
first it comes to is usually where it stops, and 
into this it goes, feeding it until this just leaps 
into strong growth, hurrying to take the place of 
the leader that is lost. There is always so much 
more sap than just one small side bud can possi- 
bly "eat," however, that more often than not two 
or even three of these will start into growth. 
And, of course, wherever a bud starts to grow- 
ing, there, in time, is a branch. 

Now for the other extreme. Here are the to- 
mato-plants in the garden, standing like small 
trees, only with their tops supported by a frame 
that carries the weight which their long, juicy 
stems or trunks are not able to lift unaided. On 
these stems no branches have been allowed to 
grow (if the very best method of training toma- 
toes has been followed), and, as a consequence, 
all the strength of the plant has gone to develop- 
ing the few branches left at the top, and the 
fruits which these branches bear — and wonderful 
fruits are the result. 

Of course, it would not do to let the tomato- 
plants develop all their side shoots, and then cut 
them off. Mercy, no ! This is what I meant by 
not breaking the spirit of the plant in training it. 
Such pruning would likely kill it ; certainly it 
would weaken it beyond all hope of restoration 
to any real vigor. These side branches or shoots 
must be "nipped in the bud" ; that is, they must 
be just rubbed off gently, the moment they lift 
their heads out of the main stem. Thus the plant 
never has to use up one bit of strength in feeding 
or pushing them— and it does not suffer a wound 
where they are removed, for they are so tiny, 
they hardly leave a mark. This kind of pruning, 
you see, helps the plant by lessening its work ; 
and this is done, therefore, to secure fine fruits 
or flowers, as the case may be. Where there are 



832 



GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN'S STORIES 



[July, 



less branches to feed, the ones remaining are bet- 
ter fed; and rich nourishment results in great 
big tomatoes, or fine roses, or whatever it may be. 

Sometimes we wish to train a vine over an 
arch or arbor without having it in the way where 
it rises. This is the method to follow. Keep 
the "trunk lines" which go up, clean and free 
of branches; then, when they reach the point 
where you wish the foliage to begin, permit the 
side shoots to grow as freely as they please. But 
with asters or marigolds, or any of the bushy 
garden flowers, tall and "spindling" is just the 
thing we do not want. So these things we "pinch 
back" — that is, we take their terminal buds right 
out of their tops, so that side branches shall form. 

Besides pruning and tilling the soil, there is the 
staking. Many kinds of flowers are much better 
for having a firm stake to lean on, instead of 
being allowed to whip about in the wind and 
droop of their own weight ; but I shall not try to 
name them all here. You will learn from your 
seed packets, or from watching the growth. If 
there is anything in your garden that needs this 
help, be sure you furnish it in time. Do not wait 
until it is half grown, but give it something to 
guide it as soon as you see the need, so it may 
grow straight, and tall, and strong; and tie it to 
its support with raffia, firmly, but not so tight 
that the circulation of the' sap will be hindered. 

Now is the time to make a seed-bed, and to 
start in it perennials for your garden next sum- 
mer. If you do this now, you will be able to set 
them out where they are to stay this fall— and 
when spring comes, the garden will be all made, 
ready and waiting to grow. Perennials, you 
know, are plants which come up every spring 
even though they have died down to the ground 
and disappeared in the fall. Once get them 
started, therefore, and they are there for all time, 
barring bad luck of some kind, and the natural 
loss that must be expected in everything from 
season to season. 

Choose an open place for the seed-bed, and do 
not have it very large. Two and a half feet 
wide by four feet long will be large enough to 
raise hundreds of little plants ; but if you can 
only get to it along one side, make it not more 
than eighteen inches wide, so that you may reach 
to the back of it without trouble. Take the sod 
off the entire space and put it to one side, first. 
Then spade up the ground lightly, to a depth of 
five or six inches is enough. Cover this surface 
four to five inches deep with a fine, soft, mellow 
soil, made very light, unless it is already sandy, 
by mixing into it one quarter to one third its own 
quantity of sand. This ought to be sifted, all of 
it together, through an ash-sifter; then spread it 



evenly over the ground, and tamp it down gently 
by patting it with the back of the spade. When 
it is finally in place and packed, the surface of 
the bed should be from three to four inches 
above the surface of the ground around. Face 
the ends and sides of this little elevation with 
the sod to hold it in place— and this much of the 
work is done. 

Now you must make a screen to put over the 
bed, for seedlings cannot stand the full heat of 
the sun during midsummer. The best kind of a 
screen is of lath, nailed to a frame the size of 
the bed, with legs at the corners about ten or 
twelve inches long, to stand on. Put the strips of 
lath about a half inch apart so the sun may shine 
through a little. It moves around so rapidly that 
no plant will receive its direct rays long enough 
to be harmed. 

When the bed and the screen are both ready, 
take off two or three quarts of the fine soil from 
the surface of the former, and put this away in 
a bucket or basket, where it will not be wet in 
case of rain. Sprinkle the bed thoroughly, put 
the screen over it so the sun may not bake the 
surface, and wait until the next day to plant 
the seeds. These should go in in little rows, 
about three to four inches apart, the seeds in 
each row being separated from each other by 
at least half an inch, if you can possibly make 
them fall this way. Sometimes they will pile up, • 
two or three together ; 
but try and have them 
evenly distributed along 
the row. Do not cover 
them too deep. Re- 
member that it is hot 
weather, and that they , 
will probably germinate 
quickly, so all they need 
is to be dropped into the little drill marked by a 
sharp-pointed dibble drawn along a straight edge, 
pressed lightly into the earth with a block of 
wood called a "float" (this should have a smaller 
piece nailed to it for a handle, so it may be used 
very much as a flat-iron is), then sprinkled with 
a very fine sprayer, and, last, dusted with a thin 
sprinkling of the dry soil which you saved from 
the top of the bed, this to be sifted on with the 
sieve. Put the screen over the bed, but take it 
off at night, unless it is raining or seems likely 
to do so. Water every day, just enough to keep 
the earth as moist as it was when the seeds were 
put in. 

If you want to have a lovely garden next year, 
get one packet of each of these, and plant the 
seed as I have just told you, after the middle of 
July, or by the end of the month : Aquilegia Cana- 




THE "FLOAT." 



I9I3-] 



GARDEN-MAKING AND SOME OF THE GARDEN'S STORIES 



833 



dcnsis, which is our native columbine ; Chrysan- 
themums, the hardy pompon varieties, Dianthus 
barbatits, the dear sweet-william, lovely pinks, 
and reds, and whites, striped, and variegated, and 
spicy; Digitalis grandiflora, or foxgloves, flowers 
that suggest their name, of pale creamy yellow 
along a great tall spike; Gaillardia grandiflora, 
or blanket flower; Althcea rosea, which is holly- 
hock — this you can have in almost any color you 
like best, or in mixed colors, if you cannot make 
a choice; Iberis sempervirens, a perennial candy- 
tuft which is lovely for edging borders or beds of 
other flowers; Enpatorium Cazlestinum, which is 



familiarly called thoroughwort ; Primula veris, 
the cowslip; and Achillea Ptarmica, in the vari- 
ety called "the Pearl," which is milfoil or yar- 
row. With these ten seed packets you can raise, 
oh, I do not know how many plants ! Enough to 
fill a large garden at least, with a great many 
left to give your friends and neighbors ; and by 
the time the seedlings are large enough to trans- 
plant into their permanent places, I will tell you 
something about planning and making such a 
garden, and where to put these plants in it, and 
how to combine them, to make it most effective 
and beautiful. 










*$> 









^ 







rRniiCES^E.vBris^iiSgssqLL, 




ll is tress ilarvj., qui ie contrary, 
Hoio does tjour garden yvouj ? 
Oliver bells and cockleshells 
rind pretty maids all in aroi>J. 




Vol. XL. — io; 




THE "MICHIGAN BEARING DOWN, COMING AT FULL SPEED. 

RISKS OF PHOTOGRAPHING 
BATTLE-SHIPS IN ACTION 



BY E. MULLER, JR. 

Formerly Official Photographer, United States Navy 



Photographing a battle-ship at full speed is fully 
as exciting and dangerous a feat as encountering 
a charging rhinoceros in the jungle. It 's a case 
of a hasty shot and a quick '"get-away." 

Of all the marine pictures that have ever been 
taken, this picture of the U. S. S. Michigan, flag- 
ship of the Atlantic fleet, is considered the most 
remarkable. When I took it, the experience was 
one in which I nearly lost my life. 

It was just before sundown when, in a small 
motor-boat, I arrived in the direct course of the 
Michigan, several miles out in the open sea off 
the coast of Maine. Once there, I did n't have to 
wait long before the ship's smoke on the horizon 
warned me of her approach. I was eager to get 
a picture full of life and dramatic action, — of the 
ship under full speed, taken from directly in 
front, something never before accomplished, — so 
I ordered the engineer to gage the distance and 
allow me to stand in her course until the last 



possible moment before making our escape. She 
was nearing us now, and bearing down at the 
speed of twenty-two miles an hour — a great, 
overawing monster ! The vibration from our en- 
gine was bothering me, so I decided to take a 
chance, and ordered the engine stopped. On 
came the ship, her bow-spray looming up before 
us like two green, foaming, white-crested wings. 
The moments were precious now, so I shot the 
camera, and shouted for full speed ahead. The 
engine gasped, made a struggle to work, but gave 
up immediately. I was frightened ; even the en- 
gine seemed to foresee its fate ! In the delay, I 
had but one idea : a chance for another snap- 
shot. Now the ship was within thirty yards of 
us, cruelly pointing her bow directly toward our 
little boat. I snapped again, and almost as if the 
little engine had been waiting for this to happen, 
it answered immediately with a chug, and we 
swerved across the dreadnought's bow. There 



834 



RISKS OF PHOTOGRAPHING BATTLE-SHIPS IN ACTION 



835 



were yells from the ship to get out of the way, 
then came a crash ! Her bow wave had caught 
us, and, the next thing that I knew, with plate- 
holder in one hand, I was 
struggling with the other to 
reach the surface of the sea, 
in which I had been buried 
fathoms deep. Succeeding 
in this, I was soon dragged 
aboard a near-by ship that 
had seen the accident, and, 
after congratulating myself 
for having escaped being cut 
in two by the bow and sent 
to the bottom, as were the 
camera and most of my 
plates, I began planning how 
I could save the one plate 
that I had so jealously clung 
to when thrown into the wa- 
ter, and which had been the 
cause of the whole excite- 
ment. I was pretty blue and 
disgusted, for it seemed im- 
possible that the picture could 

be good ; but I rushed immediately to wash the 
plate in fresh water, in order to prevent the brine 
from affecting it. On developing it, I drew a deep 
gasp of relief —the plate had been saved ! The 
picture was a success ! 

A naval photographer gets many duckings, and, 
after a time, takes them as a matter of course. 



much of the work done at this time is from the 
tops of the fighting masts, which are at an eleva- 
tion of one hundred and twenty feet above the sea. 




TWELVE-INCH GUN-FIRE PHOTOGRAPHED FROM THE MAINTOP. 

During different practices, I have taken my 
position in these masts, in order to get detailed 
pictures. Once in these basket-like tops, the 
question is how to "stick." The gun-fire photo- 
graphs itself. I suppose you wonder what I 
mean, but it is just this: every time the big 
twelve-inch guns fire, the awful concussion they 




FIRING SALVOS OF TWELVE-INCH GUNS. 



Being thrown into the sea is n't considered by cause invariably gives the snap to the shutter of 
him at all a serious event. It is during battle-ship the camera, and the exposure is made. If this 
practice that he encounters grave dangers, for were not a successful method — one discovered by 



836 



RISKS OF PHOTOGRAPHING BATTLE-SHIPS IN ACTION 




NIGHT FIRE PHOTOGRAPHING ITSELF — THE PLATE IS EXPOSED BY THE CONCUSSION OF THE GUNS. 



chance — taking photographs of gun-fire would be 
an impossibility, for, at the instant when the guns 
are fired and the exposure of the plate should be 




ENRIQUE MULLER, JR. 

made, the thundering noise and the oscillating 
motion, combined with the terrific shock, seem 
completely to stun and paralyze one — it is all that 
one can do to hang on and brace himself safely, 



in order to avoid being dashed to pieces on the 
decks far below. Once, while standing unguard- 
edly, camera in one hand and my gripsack in the 
other, in the basket at the top of the mast of the 
battle-ship Michigan, the salvo came, and I was 
thrown forward with such force that my camera 
and grip were torn out of my hands and went 
flying into the ocean ; and it was luck only that 
prevented me from going with them ! 

The "whip" of the mast, during fire, is due to 
the recoil of the guns. On the dreadnought 
North Dakota, when a salvo from the ten-inch 
guns is fired, the aggregate energy of the ten 
shells amounts to 500,000 foot-tons — sufficient 
power to lift a 20,000-ton ship twenty-five feet 
in the air. The recoil of these heavy guns, which 
in combination weigh 500 tons, is communicated 
to the ship with such force as to cause it to heel, 
in the opposite direction from the target, to the 
extent of from four to five degrees. The shock 
is gigantic, no part of the dreadnought escapes its 
force, and the masts are whipped back and forth 
like slender reeds blown by the breeze. ■ 

The crashing noise, combined with the air cur- 
rent, strikes one so stinging a blow when the 
first "whip"' comes, that he feels as though he had 
been boxed by the hand of an unseen giant, and, 
unless the ears are protected by special ear muf- 
flers, total deafness will result. 

Many of the pictures of battle practice here 
published have been taken with great risk and 
under fully as dangerous conditions as could be 
met while hunting wild animals in Africa. 




THE NEW STYLE OF MAST, KNOWN AS THE CAGE-MAST. 
{The fre-coutrol officers are in the top. The targets — eight or nine miles away — can be seen from these tops but not from the -main deck.) 

837 



BOOKS AND READING 

BY HILDEGARDE HAWTHORNE 



RED AND WHITE ROSES 

During the fifteenth century, England continued 
to fight about everything in sight, including her- 
self. Under Henry IV, the Welsh rebellions waged 
fiercely ; the French wars became acute again un- 
der Henry V, and Scotland had her own little 
wars to bring against England. But the great 
civil warfare that has come to be known as the 
Wars of the Roses is the distinguishing mark of 
the century. Under the red rose, the House of 
Lancaster fought to be head of the country, 
while the white rose drew all the York faction. 
Henry IV belonged to the former, which re- 
mained in power until Edward IV deposed the 
half-crazy Henry VI, and brought York to the 
throne. 

It was a remarkable century, this fighting fif- 
teenth. It saw the discovery of printing by Gu- 
tenberg, for one thing. This occurred about 1450, 
but it was not until 1474 that the first book was 
printed in England, by Caxton. You can find a 
short story about this Caxton in a volume called 
"Little Stories of England," by Maude Barrows 
Dutton (American Book Co.), very agreeably 
told. The book contains other stories of this 
same period, all worth reading. 

Another thing that happened during this cen- 
tury was the final overthrow of feudalism with 
the fall of the great Earl of Warwick, called "the 
King-Maker." The superb and mighty earl was 
one of the most picturesque and arresting figures 
in English history. He kept a more than kingly 
state, and is said to have fed thirty thousand peo- 
ple at his table, his boast being that no one ever 
came hungry to his house without going away 
satisfied. He belonged to the York party, but de- 
serted to the Lancastrians after a bitter quarrel 
with Edward IV, fought under Henry VI, who 
had been dethroned, and brought him back— only 
to die himself on the field before the victorious 
Edward. 

This, too, was the time of Joan of Arc, who 
freed France from the English— one of the most 
wonderful women who ever lived. You will find 
Mark Twain's life of this young heroine inter- 
esting to read in connection with the English 
happenings, since England had to yield to her, 
though later, deserted by the king she had helped 
to become the real master of his country, the 
weak Charles VII of France, the English burned 



her at Rouen ; and then, at the very end of the 
century, came the discovery of America ! 

In one of Henty's books, "Both Sides the Bor- 
der" (Scribner's), you will find a spirited ac- 
count of the Welsh rebellions under the fourth 
Henry. Mortimer, Owen Glendower, and others 
of the famous Welsh leaders appear in the course 
of the story, which covers the reigns of both 
Henry IV and Henry V, for the Welsh trouble 
kept on for many years. Another book, written 
from the Welsh point of view and very anti- 
English, is by E. Everett Green, "Cambria's 
Chieftain," and is excellent reading, though a bit 
declamatory. It gives a good notion of the pas- 
sionate feeling of the times, and many portraits 
of the famous men who lived in them. 

Scott has written one of his best stories in the 
time of this reign of the fourth Henry, only his 
scene is Scotland. "The Fair Maid of Perth" 
tells of the feud between two great Highland 
clans, and of the struggles of the kind but inef- 
fective Robert III of Scotland to rule his turbu- 
lent people. There is a clear picture of the con- 
ditions that prevailed over Scotland, and the story 
is an absorbing one, with its plots and counter- 
plots, the murder of the heir-apparent by his 
uncle, the Duke of Albany, the menace of Eng- 
land, and the efforts of the common people to 
make a living and keep from getting killed. Rob- 
ert's second son, James, is finally captured by the 
English, after the abdication of the old king. 
Another splendid story, this time by Charlotte 
Yonge, tells us all about this captivity, with the 
prince's final escape to his own country, where 
he was crowned James I of Scotland. The book 
is called "The Caged Lion," and you must surely 
get it. 

A vivid picture of the reign of Henry IV is 
given in the two plays of Shakspere, with their 
constant changes of scene, their battles and com- 
motions. But these may, perhaps, not appeal to 
you yet, though I 'm sure you cannot help being 
interested in the play that tells the short and 
glorious story of Henry V, whom we have seen 
as the wild prince with his harum-scarum crowd 
of followers in the preceding plays, and now find 
a noble monarch, the last of the great race of 
knights, and the greatest English hero since the 
death of the Black Prince. Like this prince, 
Henry also won immense success in France, par- 
ticularly in the battle of Agincourt, with which 



838 



BOOKS AND READING 



839 



his name is always associated. And he married 
a French princess, with the promise that France 
should be his after the French king's death. But 
Henry soon died, and so that was ended. 

He was, so contemporary chronicles tell us, a 
handsome, vigorous man, with ruddy complexion 
and gentle, brown eyes, eyes capable of flaring 
into flame on occasion, however. He loved all 
manly exercises, and excelled in them, report 



and altogether the book, which is not a long one, 
gives a lively effect of English life in the early 
years of the fifteenth century. 

Henty has another book that deals with this 
same time, "At Agincourt," where a boy of the 
period goes through a series of thrilling adven- 
tures. And it is here that Miss Yonge's "Caged 
Lion" belongs. 

One of the most exciting stories that have to 




YOUNG HENRY V LEADING THE ENGLISH FORCES AGAINST THE WELSH AT SHREWSBURY. 



saying that he was so fleet of foot as to be able to 
run down and capture a stag in the open. 

There are several good stories about this gal- 
lant young king. One of these is by G. P. R. 
James, beginning with Henry's coronation and 
ending with the triumph of Agincourt, by which 
name the book is called. It is a true romance, 
and is deeply colored with the atmosphere of its 
period. You get the pageants and feasts, the gay 
adventurous spirit, the danger and sudden death, 
the sharp contrasts between the different ranks 
of society. The study of Henry is interesting, 



do with this king and his England is Russell M. 
Garnier's "When Spurs Were Gold." It can 
often be found in the circulating libraries, but 
otherwise it is hard to get, which is a pity, for 
it is very good. 

It was under Henry VI that the Wars of the 
Roses began. He was a young boy when he be- 
gan to reign, and the barons tussled fiercely to 
control him and his kingdom. Now one faction 
and now another led, until England was torn to 
shreds. The French lands won by preceding kings 
were lost, and other misfortunes befell. 



840 



BOOKS AND READING 



Four really splendid books tell of this period. 
One of them is by S. R. Crockett, "Black Doug- 
las." If you have read any of this writer's stories, 
you will know there is a treat before you with 
this one, and you won't be disappointed. It is set 
in a stirring time, and it makes the most of it. 

Then there is Robert Louis Stevenson's "Black 
Arrow." It is a book that takes you right into 
the England of Henry VI and Edward IV, and 
leads on from one adventure to the other. You 
can hardly set it down once you 've begun it. Its 
hero is as fine a young fellow as ever drew bow, 
and bears himself well, both in joy and trouble. 
The language has a quaint flavor of the ancient 
time, without being in the least difficult to under- 
stand, and we are taken all through England, with 
her lovely country, and old towns, and all her 
varied population. In the regular histories, these 
warring roses may seem tiresome, with now one 
ahead and now the other, and nothing much mat- 
tering with either. But in these two adventurous 
books that take you straight into the thick of af- 
fairs, it is all real and alive, and you won't find 
a dull second, between your sympathy for your 
hero and your hatred of the villains whom he is 
fighting — in fact, you will just become one of the 
roses yourself. 

Miss Yonge has two books that cover this same 
troublous time. One is called "Grisly Grissell," 
the other, "Two Penniless Princesses." The lat- 
ter is especially interested in Scotland, though it 
takes its readers to France and Burgundy, and 
England, too, and it is a lovely tale which you 
will enjoy. 

After Henry is deposed, the house of York, at 
whose head stands the huge figure of Warwick, 
comes to the top. Warwick dominates England at 
this time, and in Bulwer Lytton's splendid story, 
"The Last of the Barons," you are given a full- 
length portrait of this man that is unforgetable. 

Bulwer is thoroughly in sympathy with his 
great hero, and has closely studied the entire 
period of which he writes. He gives a most care- 
ful, but not for that reason a tiring picture of 
English society in all its degrees, with all its 
pomp and glory, all its misery and suffering. He 
shows us, too, the beginnings of the new England 
that is to rise with the coming of the seventh 
Henry, and that will take another step toward 
the freeing of the individual, be he poor or rich, 
noble or simple. 

He draws King Edward to the life, with all his 
virtues, all his faults. He shows how it came 
about that the King-Maker finally quarreled with 
his liege, and he brings upon his stage a whole 
host of important and interesting personages, 
among them the dark and already dangerous 



Richard of Gloucester, first as a lad, later as a 
man of growing power and ambition. And he 
never loses your interest. This book is one of the 
real stories of the world, one you should in no 
case miss reading, and which is indispensable in 
the chain of our historic novels. 

A very gentle, delightful story is one written by 
A. J. Church, many of whose books you have 
surely read. It is called "The Chantry Priest of 
Barnet," and is supposed to be the personal ac- 
count, written by a monk, of such things as came 
under his own observation during a long stretch 
of time, for the narrative begins as early as 1450, 
about the middle of Henry VI's reign, and con- 
tinues to 1516, with a description of the battle of 
Flodden Field, told to the monk by one of the 
men who fought through it. It was in this battle 
that England conquered James I, whom you read 
of in "The Caged Lion," killing him and the 
flower of the Scottish nobility, and taking the 
country back under the crown of England. 

The writer is attached to Edward IV, and goes 
to London with him, where he sees many inter- 
esting things. He also has something to say of 
Caxton and his work. And he is on the field of 
Barnet, where the great Earl of Warwick is 
killed, and Henry defeated, to die or be mur- 
dered soon after, no one knows surely which. 
This story does not aim at being so historically 
accurate as Bulwer's book, but it succeeds in giv- 
ing a good idea of what England was like then, 
and shows the other side of the conflict between 
Edward and the rebellious baron. 

Scott's "Quentin Durward," which, with "Ivan- 
hoe," is one of the most exciting stories he ever 
wrote, treats of these years, though much of the 
action is in France. And an excellent story, thrill- 
ing and true to fact, is Eleanor C. Price's "The 
Queen's Man," but it is hard to find, worse luck ! 

Richard was the next king on England's throne, 
and I have not been able to get hold of many 
books about him. There is the play of Shakspere, 
which is one of the most powerful of his historic 
plays. And there is a story by G. P. R. James, 
called "The Woodman." This is an exciting ro- 
mance, and contains a fine description of the bad 
king, with whom we are made closely acquainted, 
and of whose softer side we catch glimpses. It 
ends with the battle of Bosworth, in 1485, where 
Richard, after but two troubled years on the 
English throne, is killed by Richmond, who be- 
comes Henry VII. 

Herewith the houses of Lancaster and York 
cea^e to be the rulers of England. They made a 
lot of racket, and touched some glorious heights. 
And now England begins to move swiftly on- 
ward to its most splendid period. 



FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK 



HOW LITTLE BEAR WENT TO A PICNIC 



BY FRANCES MARGARET FOX 



One time, Little Bear went to a picnic to which he was not invited. It. happened 
this way. On a lovely summer morning, five big girls had a picnic, and left their 
baby brothers and their baby sisters at home. The baby brothers and the baby 

sisters did n't cry, because 
they were all taking naps 
when the big sisters packed 
theirpicnic baskets andwalked 
to the beautiful forest. 

" I almost wish that I had 
brought my little sister," said 
one of the girls on reaching 
the woods. 





"LITTLE BEAK WAS SO SURPRISED THAT HE STOOD STILL. 



SEE NEXT PAGE. 



" So do I," said another. " I feel lonesome without our little, laughing sister." 

"And my baby brother," added another girl. "I thought he would be too 
much bother, but if he were only here, how happy he would be ! I am lonely, 
too ! " 

" If we had brought our little brothers and sisters," said the fourth big girl, 
" we would have our picnic in the edge of the woods without going a step farther !" 

"They might have taken naps under the trees after dinner," agreed the fifth 
big sister. 

Then, instead of spreading their table-cloth on the green grass on the edge of 
the forest, the five big girls walked on and on until they reached a beautiful clear- 
ing where sunshine streamed in and drove the shadows back among the trees. 
The girls did n't know that the beautiful clearing was Little Bear's favorite play- 
ground. They did n't know that a vine-covered path led from the clearing 
straight to the home of the three bears. 

Vol. XL. — 106. 8 4 i 



842 



FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK 



[July, 



Quickly, the big girls unpacked their picnic baskets. They spread a white 
table-cloth on the pine-needles. While one girl ran to the brook and filled a pail 
with clear, cold water, others prepared the feast. They filled a wooden plate with 




DID THEY THINK I WOULD EAT THEM UP? ASKED LITTLE BEAR. 



sandwiches, and placed it on the table — ham sandwiches, jelly sandwiches, and 
peanut-butter sandwiches. On other wooden plates were cookies, doughnuts, 
and pieces of cake — chocolate cake, cream cake, and maple-sugar cake. One 
girl had brought a dish of honey, another a can of jelly, while the biggest girl 
untied a box of chocolates and put it on the table beside a saucer of fudge. 

When the feast was ready, the girls gathered bunches of blue flowers to deco- 
rate the white cloth. The flowers were fringed gentians. Birds were singing 
and butterflies were flitting through the beautiful clearing when the five big girls 
sat in a circle around