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f- K J ..—.. 


< I 

J 1872 

-E, MASS. 



'<• V 


Illustrated Magazine 

For Young Folks 



Part II., May, 1904, to October, 1904. 



Copyright, 1904, by The Century Co. 

The De Vinne Press. 





Six Months — May, i$04, to October, 1904. 



Acquiescent Snake, The. Verse ' Carolyn Wells. . . 1017 

Allens' Silver Wedding, The. (Illustrated by C. D. Williams) Mary Mills West 1104 

A.MERICAN Memorials in London (Illustrated from photographs) Julian King Colford 1024 

At Grandpa's Farm. Picture, drawn by C. F. Siedle ...711 

August Day in the Fields, An. Picture, drawn by G. A. H.irker 882 

Autumn Day at the Zoo, An. Picture, drawn by J. C. Beard 1077 

Avec UN Peu DE Grace. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Valentine Adams 734 

Baby's Sand-pile. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) F. C. M 919 

Back to School after Vacation. Picture, drawn by Minna Brown 983 

Baron and the Elves, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Palmer Cox 924 

Baseball Score, How to Keep a. (Illustrated) Allen P. Ames 694 

Bedtime. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Katharine Pyle 626 

Bedtime in Fairyland. Picture, drawn by Margaret Ely Webb 923 

Bee Pasture, The. Picture, drawn by Margaret Ely Webb 1021 

Bhalu : the Indian Jungle Bear. (Illustrated by the Author) J. M. Gleeson 712 

Birds as Guests. (" When the Birds were Our Guests ") F. E. Hawson 906 

Blooming Bird, A. Jingle. (Illustrated) Mary Evelyn Thomas 637 

Blue-eyed Grass. Verse Mary Austin 703 

Blue Monday. Picture, drawn by A. W. Cooper 598 

Brave Volunteers, The. Verse. (Illustrated by E. Warde Blaisdell) Carolyn Wells 791 

Brittany, THE Land of the Sardine. (Illustrated from photographs) . . . Hugh M. Smith 963 

Building of the " Black Hawk," The. (Illustrated) S. D. V. Burr 620 

Burning the Midnight Firefly. Picture, drawn by Margaret E. Webb 798 

Butterfly Days. Picture, drawn by Bertha M. Waters 741 

Calico Cat, The Pursuit of the. (Illustrated by photographs) Caroline M. Fuller 986 

Canoe-building ; the " Black Hawk." (Illustrated) S. D.V. Burr 620 

Can't. Verse. (Illustrated from a photograph) Harriet Prescott Spofford 792 

" Captive in a Cage, A." Verse Henry Johnstone 896 

Caradoc. Verse. (Illustrated by Jessie McD. Walcott) Margaret Johnson 698 

Cat-tail, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the .\uthor) Charles S. Vandevort 884 

Central Park Tom. (Illustrated by C. E. Connard) 883 

Chao Chahng and the Man-eater. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) Clarence Piillen 1059 

Cheap Tour Around the World, A. Verse ." Thomas Tapper 897 

Chickaree. (Illustrated by Margaret Ely Webb) Anne O'Brien I082 

Children of Holland, The. Verse. (Illusir.ited by A. L. Lewis) Clara F. Berry 636 

Children of Zuni, The. (Illustrated by F. H. Lungren) Maria Brace Kimball loio 

Citizen of the Deep, A. (Illustrated) Lida Kose McCabe 983 

Class Rush, The. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Leslie W. Quirk 1078 

Coal. (" What a Lump of Coal could Do.") George Eihelbert Walsh . . . 1 1 1 7 

Comedy in Wax, A. (Illustrated by Fanny Y. Cory and George Varian) B.L.Farjeon 598, 

704, 821, 910 

Coming and Going of Pete, The. (Illustrated by W. Benda) Noak Brooks 583 

County Fair, The. (Illustrated by photographs) Joseph Henry Adams looi 

Coyote, The. (Illustrated by the Author and by Sanguinetti) J. M. Gleeson 606 

Crustacean Carol, A. Verse. (Illustrated by .•\lbertine Randall Wheelan). . Carolyn Wells 895 



Day with Hudson Maxim, A. (Illustrated from photographs) Joseph H. Ai^ams 806 

Dick. (Illustrate*) Helen Harcoitrt 901 

Difference, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan) Alix Thorn 969 

Disobliging Bear, The. Verse Carolyn Wells 1017 

Diver, A Famous. (See " A Citizen of the Deep ") Lida Rose McCabe 983 

Dmitry. (Illustrated by George Varian) A. L. F. 684 

Don, the Bullfinch. (Illustrated) Helen Harcoiirt 898 

Duke of Dorset, The Little. (Illustrated from the original painting by > ^, t r k 

Hoppner) ) 

Dutch Treat, A. (Illustrated by A. B. Davies, Marcia O. Woodbury, and > , „ ? 1 c 

^ ' ' \ Aynv B.Johnson 6^0 

the Author) ) ' ^ 

Elfin Celebration, An. Verse. (Illustrated by Maurice Clifford) Osear Llewellyn 813 

Elinor Arden, Royalist. (Illustrated by W. Benda) Mary Constance Du Bois . . 867 

991, 1066 

Enterprising T.apir, The. Verse. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) Laura E. Richards 1031 

Feast of Laughter, The. Verse. (Illustrated) Nora Archibald Smith 612 

Feeding the Birds. Picture, by C. D. Gibson 896 

FIDO and Towser. Picture, drawn by Lyell Carr 693 

Fire-cracker, The Song of the. Verse. (Illustrated by Calmer Barnes) .Ada Stewart Shelton 829 

Flower of Prey, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Mildred Howells 934 

Flying Dutchman, The. Picture, drawn by I. W. Taber 1065 

FOLLILOO. Verse. (Illustrated by A. L. Brennan) Eudora S. Butnstead 1017 

Fun among the Red Boys. (Illustrated by Seymour M. Stone) Julian Ralph 720 

Gay Grecian Girl, The. Verse. (Illustrated by F. H. Lungren) Carolyn Wells 1008 

Geography and Bed. Verse C. G. Alberger 1085 

Giant in Feathers, A. (Illustrated by Dan Beard) John R. Coryell 610 

Gobolinks. (Illustrated by the Author) Carolyn Wells 1086 

Good-night in the Nursery. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) . Katharine Pyle 626 

Goose Hunt by Steamer, A. (Illustrated by the Author) Charles A. Zimmerman .... 1014 

Grammatical Dispute, A. Verse John Bennett .... 882 

Greatest Show in the Sea, The. Pictures, drawn by Albertine Randall 

Wheelan S ^^^ 

Guessing Songs. Verse Henry Johnstone 813, 896 

Harold's Chicken. (Illustrated) Emily V. Methven 1123 

Harpy Eagle, The. (Illustrated by the Author) J. M. Gleeson 832 

Her Notion. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Mary Sigsbee Ker. . . . 876 

Hero of San Benito, The. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) Rev. Charles M. Sheldon . . . 614 

His Notion. Verse E. J. Piatt 876 

Holly-tree Wight, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Willard Bonte) Henry Johnstone 981 

How Teddy Helped F. Lockley, Jr. 716 

How toKeep a Baseball Score. (Illustrated) Allen P. Ames .... 694 

How Two Dorothys Ran Away from the British. (Illustrated by W. ^^,^^^^^^.^^ ^^^^^^^^^.^^^^ 

Benda and from a photograph) > 

Incident in Real Life, An. Picture, drawn by George Varian 1066 

Indian Boy at School, The. Verse. (Illustrated) Josephine Pollard 834 

Innsbruck, A Summer Day at. (Illustrated) , Charlotte C. Parsons 929 

Jingles 627, 637, 717, 733, 813, 876, 8S4, 897, 918, 933. 980, 9S2, 

1017, 10S5, 1086, 1103 

Johnniky Van and the Cannibal Man. Verse. (Illustrated by R. A. Graef) . Ellen Manly 742 

KiBUN Daizin. (Illustrated by George Varian) Gensai Murai . 777, 885, 971, 1096 

Killing of Storm, The. (Illustrated) Mabel Clare Craft 1029 

Lady. (Illustrated) Helen Harcourt 902 

Largest Squash, The. (Illustrated by A. Brennan and George Varian) . . . .Allen P. Ames. 793 

Lazy Willie Willow. Verse. (Illustrated by Mary Hallock Foote) Elizabeth Olmis 820 

Leaf from the Past, A Adele H. Baldwin 719 

Life on the Mantel-shelf. (Illustrated from a photograph) Clifton Johnson 647 

Little Duke of Dorset, The. (Illustrated from the original painting by ) jifgr'-aret Jackson 724 

Hoppner) ) 

Little Molly's Dream. Verse. (Illustrated) . . .' Emilie Poulsson 718 



LiTTLF. Red Cart and the Shovel and Ann, The. Verse, (^""strated ( ,. .. • r , „ 

by the Author) ) '" ^' ' ^'* 

Live Stock for the Commodore. (Illustrated by M. J. Burns) Edwin L. Sabin 817 

Lloyd's Luck Fred Lociley,Jr. 830 

Magdalen Tower and May Morning. (Illustrated by Mills Thompson, J ^^/^„ ^^^^^ ^^^„ 

George Varian, and from photographs) J 

Mary and the Lamb. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) E. IV. Kemble 1103 

Mary's Meadowing. Verse. (Illustrated by Maurice Clifford) Eva L. Ogden 682 

Ma.xim, -A. Day with Hudson. (Illustrated from photographs) Josefh H. Adams 806 

May-moving in the Woods. Picture, drawn by E. Warde Blaisdell 637 

Mighty Explorers, The. Verse. (Illustrated by George R. Halm) John Ernest McCann 717 

Miss Hairpin and Miss Thimble. Picture, drawn by Peter Newell 735 

Mistress Flynn and the Pot of Gold. (Illustrated by W. A. Kogexs) .. Fred D. Storey 689 

Moonlight Effect, A. Verse. (Illustrated by H. P. Share) Eva F. L. Carson 982 

MotJNTAiN and the Valley, The. Verse Gertrude Morton 1109 

Music in the Grass. Verse. (Illustrated by Harry Allchin) C. W. 909 

" My House upon my Back I Bear." Verse Henry Johnstone 813 

Naval Boat Drill, A W. J. Henderson 921 

Neddy's Evening Tribulation. Verse Thomas Tapper 933 

Nothing but a Girl. (Illustrated by Tom Mills) 5'. W. Hovey 1018 

No Time of Day. Verse. (Illustrated by H. C. Edwards) Adele M. Hayward 1085 

Novel E.xpekiences. Jingle. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan) . .Carolyn Wells 627 

O.VE of Uncle Joey's Jokes. (Illustrated by the Author) Valentine Adams 838 

Opening of the Fishing .Season, The. Picture, drawn by A. B. Davies 805 

OuT-CuRVE, The. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Leslie VV. Quirk 877 

Owl and the Lark, The. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Carolyn Wells 714 

Paiilberg, Alfred. (See " A Citizen of the Deep ") Lida Rose MeCabe 983 

Petk, The Coming and Going of. (Illustrated by W. Benda). . Noah Brooks 583 

Peter Puff-and-blow. Verse Henry Johnstone 968 

Pets, Stories of my. (Illustrated by B. Rosenmeyer) Helen Hareourt 898 

Petted Puppy, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan). . .Laura E. Richards 1126 

Picture, The. Verse. (Illustrated from a photograph) M. M. D 619 

Pictures 598,637,693, 711, 713, 720, 735, 741, 798, 805,814,815,831,882,896,897, 

923, 935, 9S3, 1021, 1065, 1066, 1077, 1116, 1121 

Pigmy Passenger Train, A. (Illustrated from photographs) Gerald Winsted 727 

Plans for the Future. Jingle. (Illustrated by the .\uthor) Maurice Clifford 733 

Princess Sophia Matilda of Gloucester, The. Picture, from the painting ) 

by Sir Joshua Reynolds ' 

Proud Old Dandelions, The. Picture, drawn by .\nna B. Comstock 897 

Pursuit pf the Calico Cat, The. (Illustrated by photographs) Caroline M. Fuller 986 

"Pussy's Friend." (Illustrated by reproductions of Mme. Ronner's paintings)./". B. Wickersham 1089 

Q-RIOUS Toy, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Margaret Johnson 1084 

Question of Taste, A. Verse. (Illustrated by J. Conacher) H. A. Crowell 1125 

Raffles and the Camera. Picture, drawn by Meredith Nugent 720 

Rain Rains Every Day, The. Verse Edith M. Thomas 743 

Rearing a Wren Family. (Illustrated from photographs by Herman T. > lynuam Lcrvell Finley 735 

Bohlman) > 

Reversed Perpetual Motion. Verse. (Illustrated by J. H. Moser) Norman D. Gray 918 

Rings and Knives. Jingle. (Illustrated by George R. Halm) E. E. Stearns 717 

Ronner, M.vie. (" Pussy's Friend ") F. B. Wickersham 1089 

Ro.XY — Trainman. (Illustrated from photographs) Evelyn Nichols Kerr iiio 

Sardine, Brittany, The Land of the. (Illustrated from photographs). . . .Hugh M. Smith 963 

Second Sight on a Bicycle-track. (Illustrated by the Author) J. C. Beard 1 115 

Shuttlecock of Fate, The. (Illustrated by Orson Lowell) Albert Bigelmv Paine 675 

Sister Betty's Little Story. Verse. (Illustrated by Christine S. ^teAm). Louise R. Baker 609 

Smiling, Slip Asleep. Verse. (Illustrated by Bessie Collins Pease) Alex Jeffrey 11 22 

Song of the Fire-cracker, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Culmer Barnes) . .Ada Stnvart Shelton 829 

Sparrow's Nest in a Lion's Mouth. A. (Illustrated by the Author) George W.-Picknell 726 

Stories of NFY Pets. (Illustrated by B. Rosenmeyer) Helen Hareourt 898 



Strolling Player, Three Songs OF A. Verse. (Illustrated by Anna R. >^ ^ ,- 

„., , ^ •' \G.G.Aing 920 

Giles) ) 

Summer Day at Innsbruck, A. (Illustrated) Charlotte C. Parsons 929 

Summer Sunday Hour of Long Ago, A. Picture, drawn by Maude Cowles , 815 

Sunshine Engine, A. (Illustrated by the Author) Meredith Nugent 587 

Thirteen. Verse. (Illustrated by A. E. Sterner) Lucy Foster 970 

Three Songs of a Strolling Player. Verse. (Illustrated by Anna R. ) ^ ^ ,,. 

Giles) \ 920 

Tito's Home-made Picture-book. Verse. (JWmU^teA hy ihe Kuihor) .... George Frederick Wels/ord . . 63S 

Tommy Toyman. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Katharine Pyle 626 

Tom's Return. Verse. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) W. C. McClelland 1022 

Tom's Sunshine Engine. (Illustrated by the Author) Meredith Nugent 587 

Two IS Company. Picture, drawn by Anne Goldthwaite 713 

" Two Servants Listen." Verse Henry Johnstone . . S13 

Uncle 'Rastus. Picture, drawn by Peter Newell 11 16 

Uncles, My. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) L. E. R 11 14 

Unfortunate Concert, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Kate Baldwin Robertson . . . 62S 

Vacation Ignorance. (Illustrated) 876 

Voluble Vowel, A A. J. Backus 1087 

Watching the Afternoon Express. Picture 831 

"Westward the Course of Empire Takes its Way." (Illustrated by ) o , 

F. B. Mayer) ...S 

What a Lump of Coal could Do. (Illustrated by A. Burton) . , George Ethelbert Walsh 11 1 7 

What Another Summer Brought to Denise and Ned Toot>i.y.%. iCabrielle E. Jackson 590, 

(Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) > 728, 798 

What 's in a Name ? Verse Hannah G. Femald 982 

When Daphne Danced. Verse. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Jennie Belts Hartswick ... 771 

When the Birds were Our Guests. (Illustrated) F. E. Hawson 906 

Which? Verse. (Illustrated by A. L. Brennan) John Kcndrick Bangs 1013 

Young America. Verse. (Illustrated by George A. Williams) Carolyn Wells 814 

" Yours Severely." Verse Edith M. Thomas 980 

Zoo, An Autumn Day at the. Picture, drawn by J. C. Beard 1077 

ZUNI, The Children of. (Illustrated by F. H. Lungren) Maria Brace Kimball loio 


" Merrily, merrily shall I live now," by Arthur E. Becher, page 578 — "The shuttlecock was caught and returned 
by Eleanor," by Orson Lowell, page 674 — " As Daphne danced one afternoon," by C. M. Relyea, page 770 — " See, 
here is a keepsake for thee ! " by W. Benda, page 866 — " Lady Betty Delm^ and her Children," from a mezzo- 
tint by Valentine Green of the painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds, page 962 — "ChaoChahng struck him a sweeping 
side blow with his trunk," by I. W. Taber, page 105S. 



St. Nicholas League. (Illustrated) 656, 752, 848, 944, 1040, 1136 

Nature and Science. (Illustrated) 64S, 744, S40, 936, 1032, 1128 

Books and Reading. (Illustrated) 668, 764, 860, 956, 1052, 1148 

The Letter-box. (Illustrated) 670, 766, 862, 958, 1054, 1150 

The Riddle-box. (Illustrated) 671, 767, 863, 959, 1055, 1151 

Editorial Notes 670 

73" 74- 



Vol. XXXI. 

MAY, 1904. 

No. 7. 


Bv Helen Dawes Brown. 

" They rose up early to obscne the rite 0/ jt/ay." 

They were two American girls, not very asleep, antl the city was given over to birds 

young and not very old, and their names were and flowers and Alice and Barbara. 

.\lice and Barbara. They rose and ilressed A gate in a red brick wall was reached, 

before daylight, stole downstairs candle in and the girl of courage rang the bell till it 

hand, mastered the bolts and the bars of an clanged loud and long. The forbidding gate 

English house door, and whispered and tiptoed led to a hospitable garden, and thence to a 

their way out of a sleeping house before the hosjiitable house and lamp-lit breakfast-table. 

clock struck four. Once upon the Oxford Here were more .\meri<nns and a kimlly English 

street in the cold of the morning, with the hostess. 

lamps burning weird and yellow in the last " To be invited out to breakfast at four 

darkness, the elder sister, overcome by the o'clock ! " sighed Alice, contentedly, as she ate 

enormity of their escapade, whispered, " Oh, let her toast and bacon and drank her tea. 

us go back! I //«r/- was out at such a creepy The daylight had meanwhile been gaining 

hour before. Do go back." 

" The idea ! " was all the adventurous Bar- 
bara would answer. 

They sped through the silent streets, still 
speaking in whispers. Birds were beginning to 
waken behind high garden walls. The morn- 
ing air was fragrant with the scent of young flow- 
ers and shrubs. Sober Oxford was yet fast 

Copyright, 1904, by The Centl'RV Co. 

upon them. They came out of the doorway 
into a world of smoked pearl, lighted by masses 
of white blo.ssoms. 

A fly stood at the gate. " .\ fly ! " sighed 
Alice again. " .Actually to ride in a./fy after all 
these years of reading Dickens." 

The little .American party drove merrily 
through the still, gray streets. .At the gate of 

.-Ml rights reserved. 





panion panting forth historical facts as they 
mounted : 

" The tower was begim in 1492. — a great date 
of your own. Miss Barbara, — and it was finished 
in 1507. Its height is one hundred and forty- 
five feet. Three — hundred — people — can — 
stand — on — the — top." 

And by this the poor lady's breath was quite 
gonf. The less enterprising of the party were 
supplied with chairs, and sat comfortably in the 
cloisters, while far abovetheir heads thecompany 
gathered on the top of the beautiful Magdalen 
Tower. The center of the group was the white- 
robed college choir. 

On May morning, from time immemorial, the 
Magdalen choir has sung a hymn at sunrise 
Magdalen College they divided : the adventur- from the summit of their tower. The custom is 
ous to mount the tower, the poorer-spirited to so old, indeed, that it is lost "in the dark l)ack- 
remain below in the cloisters. Up chmbed Bar- ward and abvsm of time," as Shakspere said, 
bara — up a ladder, then by a stair, by an- Meanwhile, outside the college, upon Mag- 
other and steeper ladder, her English com- dalen Bridge, crowds waited to hear the May 




music. Bicyclists liad come in 
from all the country round, and 
the small boys of Oxford were 
out in force. Yet the hush of 
the strange hour fell upon them 

To grave Mice, standing in the 
ivied arch of the Founder's 
Tower, the stillness that camebe- 
Ibre the music seemed its most 
fitting prelude. She was glad 
that laughing Barbara had had 
her way, and had left her below 
to her meditations. Never had 
the old stone tower looked more 
lovely than in the pearly light of 
the dawn. The dull gray was 
now turning to rose-color in the 
east, though it was proving a 
KnL'h'sh (l:i\'. an<l of n rather hazv 

III II- 'II 111 

Te De • um P.i ■ ircm co- li ■ mus Te lau • di- 

I J. 1 • r— ts'. I III 
:-T-^ — ■^— -l-T 1— -I 1 !-T i^ 

' <_r I 

bus pro ■ se- qui 


111 ° \ 

mur Qui cor - pus a • bo 

i I 

rtr - fi- 

cis, Coc - les - ti men • lem gra ■ li 

I _ j^i r^ I . I 

— if^"^'^=S*l 

softly lighted 

The moment the hour of five had sounded, 
sunshine. the chdir-master's signal was given, and the 




delightful, calm stillness of the morning was 
broken by even lovelier strains of music. 

This is the sweet, solemn Latin hymn with 
which the choir welcomed that rosy May 
morning : 

Te Deiim Patrem colimus 

Te laudibus prosequimur 

Qui corpus cibo reficis, 

Ccelesti meutem gratia. 

"It is far better to let the music come down 
to us, as if it came from a gateway of heaven," 
said those looking upward from the cloister or 
from Magdalen Bridge. 

•' To stand so near the sky and mingle with 
the music is a foretaste of heaven," was said, 
no doubt, by those upon the tower. 

Between the stanzas there fell a stillness. 
There seemed not the least murmur of a leaf, 
not the slightest whisper of the air, to mar the 
wondrous silence. 

As the music of the hymn at last died away, 
there rang out over Oxford wild, joyous bells 
announcing the ist of May. The sleeping 
citv must waken now and join in praise of the 

If this celebration of May morning were all a 
solemnity, it would be out of character. It 
would be neither the Englishman nor the 
college boy that would take such a ceremony 
altogether seriously. 

To the astonishment of the grave Alice and 
to the delight of Barbara, just as Magdalen's 
bells began to ring, the undergraduates seized 
one another's caps and gowns, and sent them 
flying over the tower battlements. The black- 
winged gowns looked like huge birds fluttering 
and circling in the air. The fun was great 
when a cap alighted on a high roof or a gown 
floated gracefully into a tree-top. This was one 
of the eagerly awaited opportunities of the col- 
lege " scout," who turned a penny bv rescuing 
stray caps and gowns. 

Alice and Barbara walked back to the Ban- 

bury Road. To .some of the slumbering house- 
hold the night was not yet over, and the Ameri- 
can maidens had still the sense of an escapade, 
spite of the presence of an English chaperon. 
Softly they hfted the 
heavy gate-latch, and 
stealthily they fitted the 
key into the great house 
door. They lighted 
their candle again, and 
stole upstairs through the 


darkened house, just as the clocks were strik- 
ing si.\. 

" Do you feel more hke a ghost or a burglar ? " 
whispered Barbara. 

'•.Am I walking in my sleep?" Alice mur- 
mured. " Was that music in a dream ? " 


By Noah Brooks. 

He came to us in one of the solitary places 
of the Platte River valley, in western Nebraska. 
There were five of us, four young men and a 
boy of fifteen, on our way across the conti- 
nent from the Missouri to the Sacramento. In 
those days — for this was many, many years ago 

— there was no way of crossing the Great Plains 
but that of following the trail afoot, with ox- 
teams, horseback, or other simple means of 
travel. In crossing the plains, men first had the 
trackless wilderness to penetrate ; next came the 
trace, showing where a few wayfarers had 
passed ; then the trail was formed by many feet 
turned toward the west ; after that was the 
wagon-track made by the emigrant-wagons of 
gold-seekers bound to California ; the stage- 
road came soon after, and, last of all, was the 
iron railway. We were on the trail as it was 
turning into a wagon-track. 

Late one afternoon, just as we had camped 
on the grassy banks of the river, a large yellow 
dog came out of the underbrush and regarded 
us with some anxiety. Being encouraged by a 
few kindly calls, for it seemed cjueer to see a 
dog wandering in that lonely and uninhabited 
place, he came into camp, forlorn and suspicious. 

He was tall, coarse-haired, with foxy ears 
and a club-shajjed tail. We tried him with 
various names that are common in dog history 

— Bose, Tray, Duke, Turk, and so on ; but to 
none of these did he make reply until some one 
said " Pete! " .At this he gave a diffident little 
jump and a bark. Thenceforward he was 
Pete, and Pete he remained until the end of the 

As we happened to have plenty of buffalo 
meat in camp that night, Pete was given a good 
supper. He was ravenously hungry, and while 
he was eagerly gnawing a bone he suddenly 
drop|)ed it with a yelp of pain. Going to the 
poor beast to see what was the trouble, I passed 
my hand along his jaw, and found a lump under 
the skin, as if some part of the jawbone were 

broken and out of place. The gentle pressure 
of my hand i)ut the bone into place again, and 
Pete, with a grunt of satisfaction, went on with 
his supper. After that, as long as he was with 
us, Pete would run to me, whimjjering, when- 
ever his ravenous feeding brought on his grief. 
As he laid his nose on my knee, I pressed back 
the troublesome lump, and Pete ceased his com- 
plaints. But he learned to be careful of his 
wounded jaw, and avoided wrenching it when 
gnawing his food. 

One of the wayfarers whom we occasionally 
met on the trail toward the setting sun, seeing 
me ])erform this painless little surgical operation 
for Pete some weeks after he came to us, said 
that he knew the dog. His master, he said, was 
a brutal fellow, and, being angry with the dog 
one day, struck him violently on the head with 
the butt of his rifle. The dog fled howling from 
the camp, and probably in this way became a 
wanderer until he made our acquaintance and 
found friends. 

We all liked Pete, and he was on the most 
intimate terms with all in the camp ; but there 
were two reasons why he attached himself 
chiefly to me : I had first helped him in trouble, 
and I had charge of the " grub " in the camp. 
On the plains, and in fact in all camps, the food 
is never known by any name but that of grub. 
From my hands, usually, came the food that 
was so welcome to Pete. One kind of food 
which we all liked was known as flapjacks ; 
and Pete liked flapjacks as well as the rest of 
the camp did. But the labor of cooking them, 
one at a time in the frying-pan, was too great 
to make us willing that Pete should have many. 
To turn a flapjack over in the pan, it is neces- 
sary to loosen it a little around the edges, and 
toss it in the air in such a way that when it 
comes down in the pan it will be with the 
cooked side up ; and to do this well requires ex- 
perience. Sometimes, while the cake or flapjack 
was turning in the air, the wind would catch it 





and it would light on the ground instead of in 
the pan — that flapjack, broken and gritty with 
sand, was Pete's. And he would solemnly and 
wistfullv sit bv the fire watrhin>' the cookins; of 


the flapjacks, and waiting for the accidents that 
were to give him a share of the good things. 
After a while he became so expert in the art of 
catching the flying cakes that he knew just 
when one was going to strike the ground, and 
his jaws snapped on it before it finally landed 
in the sand. It might be a pretty hot morsel 
for Mr. Pete, but he never complained. 

Our house was a tent, taken down every 
morning before we turned our faces westward 

again, and pitched every night on a soft and 
level spot of earth. Pete was never allowed 
to sleep in the tent with us, much to his sur- 
prise and discontent ; but he discovered where 
I slept near the wall of 
the tent, and made him- 
self a bed as near the 
canvas as he could get, 
and kept watch all night. 
When we reached the 
alkali country, Pete suf- 
fered a great deal from 
sore feet. The alkali 
makes the spring water 
unfit for drinking, and 
makes rough and dry 
the skins of persons 
traveling over the trail. 
After a while Pete's feet 
were so sore that we 
made him ride in the 

In Salt Lake City we 
camped on the edge of 
the town in an open, 
grassy sciuare. called 
Emigrant Square, as 
directed by the officers 
of the place. One fine 
morning we woke to find 
our oxen gone, although 
they had been carefully 
chained to our wagon- 
wheels the night before. 
How had anybody un- 
chained the cattle with- 
out making any noise ? 
and why did not Pete 
give the alarm when the 
thieves came to our 
camp? Pete! Sure enough, where was Pete? 
He was nowhere to be found. In vain we 
searched through the camps of other emigrants ; 
neither the dog nor the oxen were to be seen. 
The loss of the cattle was most severe, of course, 
for without oxen we could not go on to Cali- 
fornia ; but to lose Pete was like losing one of 
our party. 

Next day we discovered the cattle in an 
inclosure that had been covered with brush, as 





if to hide what was within. The owner of the 
j)lace said he found the oxen running at large, 
and he hatl taken them up to wait for the 
rightful owners to appear. He knew nothing 
about a yellow dog with foxy ears. We thought 
it best to get out of Salt Lake City at once, and, 
yoking our cattle to the wagon, we started for 
Box Polder, a little settlement to the north of the 
town. With heavy hearts, we jogged along 
across the fields until we struck the road lead- 
ing to the settlement. Turning back to look 
at Salt Lake City, which is a very beautifully 

boy of the camp. '■ It 's dear old Peter, as 
sure 's I 'm alive ! " 

Sure enough, it was our faithful dog. Pant- 
ing with excitement and fatigue, for he had run 
several miles, he leaped up to my shoulders, 
grinning from ear to ear. He seemed to say, 
•' Is n't this great ! " Then he leaped on each 
member of the j)arty, one after another, with a 
short, sharp bark of joy. On liis neck was a bit 
of rope by which he had been 
tied by his captors. The end 
of the rope showed that he 




situated place near tlie Creat Salt Lake, we had cliewed ii tiirough and in that way liad 

saw something leaping througli the tall grass made his escape. But how did he know where 

of the meadows below us. It came leap- to look for us? I don't know, 
ing and bounding, rising and Hilling in the Wlien we came to the C.reat Desert, Pete had 

waving windrows of grass, only half visible to hard lines indeed. Food was scarce, and the only 

us on the road above. "It 's Pete!" cried the water we had to drink was that which we had 



brought along with us. Usually emigrants 
planned their journey so as to cross the water- 
less and treeless desert places in the night, rest- 
ing at the springs scattered along at great in- 
tervals. We had no meat but the salt bacon, 
and we lived on bacon and stewed beans cooked 
by a tiny fire made from fuel brought in the 
wagon. Pete refused beans until, after a time, 
he became very hungry and was near starv- 
ing ; then he consented to eat some into which 
a little of our slender stock of bread had been 
crumbled. Near Rabbit Hole Springs, then a 
famous watering-place on the dry and dreary 
desert, Pete caught a small animal resembling 
a chipmunk or ground-squirrel. He brought 
it into camp and laid it at my feet, but with a 
hungry look that seemed to sty: "It would 
be only fair if you gave this to me to eat." 
Of course Pete got the bit of fresh meat he had 
brought into camp. 

Later on in the desert tramp, we made a 
night march of nearly forty miles across a wild 
waste of sand which was not difficult for the 
feet of man, but was rather heavy for wagon- 
wheels. The face of the country was rolling 
and not at all rocky, and as the trail was clear 
and easy for travel, I wrapped a light blanket 
about me, for the nights were cool, and went on 
ahead of the train, Pete following close at my 
heels. It was a still and starlight night, with 
only a gentle sigh of the winds breathing over 
the vast, untrodden, treeless wilderness. The 
silence was so utter, so complete, that Pete at 
my heels grew uneasy, and once in a while left 
the trail behind me and capered up by my side 
with a forlorn whimper, as if he could not bear 
that awful silence any longer. I spoke to him 
with a laugh which seemed to make him under- 
stand that things were all right, and then he 
would drop back contentedly to his place at 
my heels and gi\e no more trouble until the 
lonesome fit seized him again. 

We reached a deep swale in the sand after a 
long walk, and, much to Pete's satisfaction, set- 
tled down for a rest. He crawled under m\- 
blanket, and there, in the stillness of the desert, 
with the stars blinking down upon us from the 
dark, dark sky above, I could fancy that we were 
lost in the lonely heart of the continent. There 
might be oceans of water, noisy cities, clattering 

factories, and shrieking railway trains somewhere 
in the world ; but here was nothing but the most 
complete desolation, a silence that could almost 
be felt. Presently Pete stirred uneasily and 
poked his nose out from under the blanket with 
a grumble. Hearing nothing, I scolded him 
for his suspicion ; but he would not be still, and 
while I could hear nothing in the darkness, 
although I listened intently, he bounded out 
with a tremendous bark, and kept it up in spite 
of my scolding. Presently, from out of the 
gloom I heard the voice of one of our fellow- 
emigrants, who, knowing that I had gone on 
ahead, had pressed on to overtake me. Pete 
had detected his light footsteps on the sand 
when he was a full mile distant from us ! 

About midnight of our last day in the desert, 
as we plunged down a steep gulch, we found 
ourselves, to our great surprise, in the midst of 
a large camp of emigrants. They were literally 
camping on the trail — a very foolish thing to 
do, as anybody can see. Instantly all was con- 
fusion. In our train was a drove of cattle, and 
the foolish campers had a drove lying about 
their tents. Dogs barked, cattle bellowed, men 
shouted, and for a time the noise and tumult 
were great. After a while we managed to get 
matters straightened out, and, gathering up 
our own, we plodded on down the trail and out 
into the rock-strewn plain beyond. 

After we had tramped onward a few miles 
into the weariness of the desert, somebody said, 
'• Where 's Pete ? " We whistled and we called, 
but there was no reply. Pete seldom left my 
side for even so much as an hour when we were 
in camp, and never before had left me on the 
trail. Two of us went back on the trail, and, 
mounting a big boulder, called and whistled for 
the missing dog. But all in vain. From where 
we stood we could see the white tents of the 
campers shining in the starlight ; but there was 
no sign of Pete. Perhaps his master was in the 
camp of the men on the trail, and Pete may 
have been captured by him. Perhaps a camper, 
anxious to own a dog, had time, in the midst of 
the hurly-burly, to snare and tie him up to his 
wagon-wheel. I doubt not that, if free, he 
certainly would have followed us to the end of 
the continent. But we never knew whither he 
vanished, and we never saw him again. 


Bv Mkredith Nuc.ent. 

other boys who might wish to make one like it, 
T will toll vou how Tom marie his. He began 
I)}' making a flanged driv- 
ing-wheel. To do this 
he jirickcd three holes 
in a strip ot' paper, 
one for the pin, another 
ii^ inches from 
this, and a third 
_^inch fartheron 
from the tirstone. 

And just to think of it ! the " weather man " 
predicted still more rain. Tom wondered when 
his engine would have an opportunity of show- 
ing how well it could work. " Oh, if the sun 
would only shine for a few minutes I " he ex- 
claimed irritably; then burying himself in the 
big chair, he dreamed of his rambles in sunr.y 
California the winter 
previous. As he re- 
called the days spent in 
golden orange-groves 
he smacked his lips in 
exasperation, and then 
not even the remem- 
brance of the fine sal- 
mon taken from the 
Penobscot, nor the 
merry times he had 
passed with Rohel 
York trout-fishing in 
the Rangeleys. could 
convince him that his 
own State of Maine 
was not the dreariest 
place on earth. 

Tom's sunshine en- 
gine was a contrivance 

of his own, and he was i^^k' ' llr I ^^- ^"""^^ ;J 

very proud of it. It 
consisted of a stiff writ- 
ing-paper fly-wheel 
eight inches in diame- 
ter, a pa|)er flanged 
wheel, straw uprights 
to support the straw 

walking-beam and the axle, a split straw driv- Then, laying this strip on a sheet of stiff wriiing- 
ing-rod and piston, and a paper cylinder. The paper, he jiressed a ])in through the first hole, 
two ujiright straw supi)orts tor the flanged placed a pencil-point in the second and de- 
driving-wheel each measured five inches in scribed a circle, and then placed the pencil in 
length, and these were fastened to a discarded the third hole and described another circle, 
glass negative w^ith sealing-wax — absolutely After this he marked oft" the outer circle with a 
perpendicular, you may be sure. The engine pencil at about every three sixteenths of an inch, 
was Tom's invention, and for the benefit of On every mark he cut a slit toward the exact 





center of the disk as far as the inner pencil cir- 
cle, not a hairbreadth farther. Then, holding 
the disk ever so gently, he turned one little cut 
projection in one direction, and the next in the 
oppo-site, just as you see in Fig. 2. 

He then made of cardboard a wheel 8 inches 
in diameter, over the center of which, on both 
sides, he pasted a small circle of paper to stiffen 
the wheel where the axle came through. 

Straw uprights, he found, were ever so mucli 
better than wooden ones, and he strove with 
all the care possible as he stuck the needles into 
the uprights, as shown in Fig. i. Through each 
of these two vertical straws he thrust a needle 
at an acute angle upward, and just above where 
these entered he thrust in another at exactly 
right angles to each straw. Then through the 


exact center of the flanged wheel he put a 
" stickpin," and on the point of this he pressed 
the large wheel. Then he laid this stickpin 
with its two wheels on the projecting needles, 
as shown in Fig. 1. 

Now he fastened a long straw upright in 
position, and attached the straw cross-beam to 
it with a pin, so that it worked without the 
slightest friction. To each end of the cross- 
beam he suspended a split straw, one to serve 
as a piston, the other as a driving-rod. A pin 
bent as shown in Fig. 3 was stuck through the 
crank-rod and into the fly-wheel. The holes 
pierced in the straws were large enough to pre- 
vent any but the slightest friction, yet not so 
large as to permit the pinheads to come through. 
The dangling piston was allowed to move up 
and down in a writing-paper cylinder. 

When the engine was completed Tom's eyes 

fairly gleamed with satisfaction, and little Gyp 
just barked and jumped at him as though she 
were equally pleased. 

Then Tom went to work on the " power 
plant," as he called it, for as a matter of fact 
the part that we have just described as if it were 
the " engine " is in reality the " load," or the 
driven part ; it was Tom's joke that made it 
appear as if the load were driving the engine. 

We will now describe the " sure enough " 
engine — the (xirt that Tom said really "did 
the business." 

He attached a square bit of cardboard to 
one end of a knitting-needle with plenty of seal- 
ing-wax, and then with more sealing-wax fast- 
ened straws on top of this at exactly the 
same distances apart. Over these straws he 
drew half-sheets of writing-paper, and fastened 
these in position with sealing-wax, so that 
they should all remain at the same angle 
(Fig. 3). Then he stuck a circle of pins around 
a slice of a large cork, so that they formed 
obhque angles upward. Then, just above where 
these pierced the cork, he placed another circle 
of pins at oblique angles downward. He used 
a wooden upright, to the top of which he at- 
tached one end of a piece of cardboard at 
right angles, as shown in the picture. Near 
the projecting end of this cardboard he bored 
a hole, and about this fastened three needles 
with sealing-wax, so as to form a small triangle 
for the vertical knitting-needle to revolve in. 
He also fastened a bit of cardboard viith a hole 
in it to the negative upon which the wooden 
upright was fastened, and placed three needles 
across this also, so as to form a triangle directly 
under the upper one. These needle triangles 
are not shown in Fig. 3, and are really not ab- 
solutely necessary. Then, to avoid any chance 
of friction, he sharpened the lower end of the 
knitting-needle with coarse sandpaper. This 
done he lowered the point of the knitting-needle 
down to the opening in the horizontal cardboard 
strip, pressed the point of it exactly through the 
center of the cork wheel, and lowered it again 
until the sharp tip rested on the glass negative. 
Nothing remained but to connect the cork wheel 
and the paper-flanged wheel of the other " en- 
gine " with a piece of thread hanging rather 
loosely, as shown in picture. 




Ami now, if the sun woiilil onl) shine ! Tom's and then unconsciously reached out his hand as 

engine stood right in front of the large south though groping for invisible threads, 

window, a gem of careful workmanship, but as " I 'II give it up," he said after a few minutes, 

motionless as though it were never intended to " Tell me. tell me. what does make it go ? " 



move. The clouds still scudded injiidl)' north- 
ward as the boy hurried to school the next 
morning, and not a sign could he detect of 
clearing weather. 

" I say, Tom, why did you stop in the middle 
of that reading lesson," exclaimed Harry Baker, 
after school, " and right in the middle of a sen- 
tence, too ? " 

"Well, you come along with me, and I 'II 
show you why I stopped," retorted Tom, some- 
what nettled at having so much fun poked at 
him ; " only hurry up," he added on reaching 
the lower steps, " for I am going to run." Run 
they did, and in an incredibly short time Tom 
had thrown open the door of his sunny room. 

" But what makes it go, Tom, what makes it 
go ?" re])eated Harry Baker, excitedly, as they 
gazed on the remarkable piece of mechanism. 

'• What do you think makes it go ? " said 
Tom, proudly, and with a slight air of mystery. 

Harry scratched his head and tried to solve 
the puzzle. He looked first on one side of the 
engine, then on the other, then under the table. 

'• Sunlight ! " shouted Tom, whose exuberance 
now burst forth in a wild hilarity. And while 
the little fly-wheel revolved just like that of a 
real engine, exultant Tom went on to explain 
the details of his wonderful mechanism, which, 
as he had told Harry, was run by no other jjower 
than the heat rays arising from the glorious sun- 
shine itself. 

Any boy reader of Sr. Nicholas may build 
sunshine engines for himself by carefully fol- 
lowing Tom's method of working; be sure, how- 
ever, to bend all your energies to the work as did 
this young inventor, for then you will succeed, 
and the sunshine will run your little engine for 
you day after day and week after week. 


By Gabrielle E. Jackson. 



Chapter I. eyes, which matched the curls in color, looked 

dreamily off toward the glassy river. The linen 
carriage-robe had slipped from her knees, and 
Denise sat all alone in her phaeton, her el- one end trailed out upon the green grass on 
bows resting upon her knees and her chin which the phaeton stood ; for she had driven 
propped upon her hands. The soft brown out of the main road into a little byway lead- 
curls fell all about her face, and the brown ing up the mountain, — her favorite spot for a 




•• good, quiet think," — and slie and Ned Too- 
dles were reveling in the beauty of that early 
spring day. The atmosphere was so balmy, 
so filled with the thousand promises of spring, 
the sun so warm and comforting without the 
ojjpressive heat that would come later in the sea- 
son, and all nature so entrancing in theextjuisitely 
soft green of her new spring attire, tliat it was 
no wonder the sensitive, imaginative child of 
eleven should be transported into a fairy-like 
reverie, or the little pony, which had now been 
her constant companion for more than eighteen 
months, should, so far as an animal can sympa- 
thize with a human being's moods, enter into 
sympathy with Denise's. He stood perfectly 
still, his head drooping and the usually wide- 
awake eyes partly closed, as though he, too, 
had nearly slipped away into a land of dreams. 
Presently from out the woodland came the in- 
comparable call of the wood-thrush, rising from 
its soft, tender note to the clearjoyous call which 
told to all the world that life was, oh, so sweet ! 
Denise raised her head from her hands and lis- 
tened for the second call which she knew would 
follow. It came, and this time a little nearer, as 
though the bird were searching the woods for 
its mate. Then back went the answering call, 
but not from the bird's mate. Raising her head, 
Denise puckered up the soft red li|)s, and clear 
and sweet from between them came the 

-nr -^J"-- r 


Then she listened for the reply. It came, 
and so did the bird. Peering cautiously from 
the leafy covert, it hopped nearer and nearer 
to the still figures at the roadside, as though 
asking, " Where is she ? " 

Denise smiled, but made no sound ; and the 
little bird, deciding that those odd-looking 
creatures so near by were harmless, opened his 
tiny beak and, clear and sweet at her very siile, 
gave his entrancing call again. 

The moment it ceased, Denise repeated hers, 
and for a few moments a very bewildered little 
bird flitted about the nearest trees, until at last, 
with an indignant flourish of his brown tail, he 
flew oft" to seek his own little ladv-love. 

As he disappeared into the wootl, a merry 
laugh rippled after him, and, giving one bound, 
Denise sprang over the wheels and landed upon 
the grass beside Ned. The move was a sudden 
one, but Ned was used to moves of all sorts; 
so, giving a soft little whinny of welcome, he 
aroused himself, took a step or two nearer, and 
poked his head under Denise's arm. She 
dropped upon the soft grass, saying: 

" Ned Toodles, it 's springtime ! springtime ! 
si)ringtime ! I am so glad, are n't you ? " And, 
cuddling both arms about the warm head which 
was thrust into her lap as she sat there, she 
buried her face in the silky forelock and " snug- 
gled " as hard as she could. Ned responded 
by a succession of subdued whinnies, as though 
saying: "More delighted than I can express, 
for spring means green grass, long walks with 
you, and no bother v.ith blankets." 

" Now, Ned, listen," continued Denise, for 
these conversations were by no means uncom- 
mon — they were held daily. " Spring means 
warm weather, warm weather means vacation, 
vacation means Pokey! ^\'hat do you think of 
that ? Vou see, Ned Toodles, Pokey is clever, 
very clever indeed ! and some day she is going 
to be famous, because siie told me so. She is 
going to study hard and get to be a teacher, 
and buy a dear little house, and furnish it, and 
have her mother live with her always. But, to 
do that, she must study hard while she is a lit- 
tle girl, and that is what she is doing now — oh, 
so hard ! And just as soon as vacation comes, 
Pokey will come out here, and — then ! " This 
thought was too tremendous to be dealt with 
sitting, and, springing up, Denise cried : 

" Let 's go home just as fast as ever we can, 
Ned, for I 've a sort of feeling that something 
fine is going to happen "; and she scrambled 
into the phaeton and was soon spinning down 
the road toward home. 

Chapi'er II. 


It was the 20th of,\pril — Tan's birthday! 
At least, Denise considered it his birthday; 
for upon that date, when she was a wee lassie 
of four. Tan had been given to her — although 




they certainly had not 
come into the world 
upon the same day, for 
Tan was "no kid" when 
she got him. That he 
was more than seven 
and a half years of age 
she knew, and a friend 
of her father's who was 
well up in animal lore 
said that Tan was not 
far from fourteen years 
of age, to judge from 
the rings upon his horns, 
which were almost as 
distinct as those seen 
upon the Rocky Moun- 
tain sheep, which Tan 
resembled both in size 
and color. So Tan was 
growing old for a goat, 
and during the past win- 
ter had suffered some- 
what from rheumatism. 
The veterinary who 
came to see him did all 
he could to afford him 
relief, but said that Tan 
would probably not live 
through another winter. 
But as spring drew near 
Tan improved steadily, 
and when the warm 
days came and he could 
go out in his field to 
crop the fresh, sweet 
grass, it seemed just the 
tonic he required, and 
he grew quite gay and 
frisky. He still followed 
Denise whenever he 
could do so, but in some 
of their long rambles 
often grew tired and 
stopped stock-still in 

the road to pant after a particularly hard 

Ned, Sailor, and Beauty Buttons were not 
able to understand, although Sailor himself, 
it must be confessed, was not very young. 


THE "powwow" in THE TREE. (SEE PAGE 595.) 

Directly after luncheon was eaten, Denise flew 
out to the "Birds' Nest"; for the pretty little 
play-house and stable for her pets was still as 
dear to her as upon the day she had received the 
key to it from papa's hand. Running into the 



part whicli held the carriages for Ned and Tan, 
she took down Tan's harness, which had not 
been put on him for many a long day, wheeled 
out the little carriage, and then went to the door 
to whistle for Tan. 

Out upon the grass in front of the " Birds' 
Nest " Denise rolled the little old-fashioned 
carriage, and then turncil to greet Tan, who, at 
the first sight of these familiar objects, felt his 
poor old bones filled with new life, and his loving 
old heart beat for joy, for these meant that he 
was again to draw the little carriage and, as he 
supposed, his beloved little mistress. With a 
prolonged baa-aa-a-a-a , he came trotting toward 
her as fast as his stiff legs permitted, aiid rubbed 
his head against her sleeve by way of telling 
her how pleased he was. 

It was only a moment's work to her practised 
hands to adjust the harness, and Tan was a 
proud goat as he waited for her to get into the 
carriage. Hut she had no intention of doing 
so. Such a load as her plump little self was not 
to be thought of; so, bidding him stand per- 
fectly still, she ran back into the play-house, and 
a moment later reappeared with a little pink 
flannelette blanket, bound all around the edges 
with black braid, and a piece of broad pink 

" Here, Beauty Buttons," she called to the 
tiny black-and-tan terrier, which was enjoying 
a sun-bath in the play-house dining-room, 
"come and ride in Tan's wagon, for I 'm too 
heavy"; and down trotted the small dog, to 
be dressed in the blanket she had made for this 
festive occasion, and adorned with a bow to 
match. He knew well enough what was ex- 
pected, and hopped into the carriage. Denise 
put the reins over his neck, and there he sat, a 
brave little groom, while Denise went up to 
Tan's head and took hold of the bridle. Poor 
old Tan ! all aches and pains were forgotten, 
and he stepped off in his bravest style. 

Now we will go over there under the apple- 
trees, and I '11 dress you all up," said Denise ; 
and off they went, and presently were standing 
beneath trees so filled with beautiful bloom that 
they looked like huge bouquets. The boughs 
hung low, and before long. Tan had nearly dis- 
appeared under his decorations, for sprigs of 
apple-blossoms were stuck in every part of the 
Vol. XXXI.— 75. 

harness where it was possible to place them, 
the carriage and Beauty also coming in for their 
share. When all was finished, Denise led Tan 
to the rear porch and gave a " bob-white " call. 
It was almost instantly answered by a "bob- 
white" from within, and her mother's face ap- 
peared at an upper window. 

"What is this, sweetheart — a flower fete?" 
asked Mrs. Lombard, smiling at the posy-bank 
under her window. 

"Is n't it pretty?" cried Denise; "and did 
you ever see such lovely blossoms ? Tan seems 
so much better, and I think he will be all right 
now that warm weather has come again, don't 
you ? " 

" I should not wonder a bit," was the com- 
forting reply. 

" Have you a letter ? " asked Denise, noticing 
that her mother held an envelop in her hand. 

" Yes, dear. It is a letter from Mrs. Murray, 
saying that they will be back in their old home 
this week, and that we may expect to see the 
house open any day. I am so pleased to hear 
such good news ; for it has seemed very lonely 
to have our nearest neighbor's house shut up 
all these years. I wonder if you can remember 
her children at all ? The eldest was only six 
months older than you, and a dear little lad." 

" I am afraid I can't," said Denise, wagging 
her head solemnly, as though she were found 
wanting in something. 

" Well, keep your weather eye open," said 
Mrs. Lombard, laughing, " and when you see 
some one whom you don't know, just say to 
yourself, ' That is an old friend.' " 

" I will," answered Denise, joining in the 
laugh, and turning to lead Tan and his passen- 
ger back under the trees. The apple-trees 
grew near to the fence which divided Mr. Lom- 
bard's property from his neighbor's, and that 
particular corner of the grounds was always a 
favorite one of Denise's. Up in one tree was 
her " cubby," beneath two others swung her 
hammock, and upon the velvety grass beneath 
Iheni she spent many a happy hour reading, 
while Ned Toodles, Tan, Sailor, Beauty But- 
tons, and the kittens stood, sat, or stretched 
themselves about her at their will. A hedge of 
currant-bushes grew along the fence, concealing 
all that took place within or beyond. 




Denise had led Tan to a particularly inviting 
spot, and taken him from the shafts, although 
she had not removed the harness and its deco- 
rations. Beauty had hopped out of the car- 
riage, and was now sprawled out like a big 
frog. Seating herself in one of the rustic 
benches under the trees, Denise drew Tan to- 
ward her, and began to pet him. She rambled 
on in the odd way she had of sharing all her 
thoughts with her pets (safe confidants, who 
never betrayed her secrets, and who loved the 
voice for the voice's sake). Presently a loud, im- 
patient whinny caused her to look over toward 
the play-house. 

" Do you hear that ? " she demanded. " I do 
believe that Ned is jealous for the first time in 
his life"; and she answered the whinny by giv- 
ing a peculiar piping whistle. 

A stamping and a clatter were the result, and 
presently John's voice was heard shouting: 
" Hi, you young scamp ! Don't ye dare thry 
that thrick on me ag'in. It 's takin' out yer own 
bar-fastening ye '11 be, is it ? Don't ye dare ! 
There," as the sound of dropping bars told that 
Ned was free. " Get-t-t out beyant to Miss 
Denise, and cut no more capers." And, with a 
rattle and clatter, out rushed Ned, to come tear- 
ing over the grass toward Denise. His abrupt 
exit so startled the kittens, who were basking in 
the sunshine just outside the door, that they 
bounced up like two rubber balls, and tore 
along ahead of him, with tails stuck straight up 
in the air like bottle-brushes. They did not stop 
their flight until they were safe in the branches 
above Denise's head. 

As though to rebuke such unseemly haste, 
Sailor arose majestically from his favorite cor- 
ner of the piazza, and, descending the steps, 
came slowly across the lawn, waving his plumy 
tail like a flag of truce, and looking with digni- 
fied contempt upon such mad antics as Ned 
was just then giving way to. And for a climax 
to his performance, Ned rushed around and 
around two or three times, evidently regarding 
Denise's pealing laughter as wild applause, and 
then, coming toward her with a rush, bumped 
against old Tan and nearly upset him, as he 
pushed him aside to put his saucy nose where 
Tan's had been. 

It was all done so quickly that Denise hardly 

realized what had happened, till she was startled 
by a hearty, boyish laugh from the other side 
of the hedge, and, turning quickly, saw a lad of 
about twelve looking over the fence and laugh- 
ing. Giving Ned a shake by his little silky 
ears, Denise pushed him from her and hopped 
up from the bench, saying : " Is n't he the 
craziest thing you ever saw ? I suppose you are 
the person I am to see and not to know a bit, 
but am to call an old friend " ; and with this be- 
wildering announcement, she went over to the 
fence to speak to the still amused boy. 

Hastily reaching in the pocket of his immacu- 
late little overcoat, he drew from it a small card- 
case, and taking from it a little card, handed it 
to Denise with a truly Chesterfieldian air, as he 
raised his cap and waited for her to read the name. 

Although a carefully bred child, Denise had 
not had much experience in conventionalities, 
and did not go about with a card-case in her 
pocket. So it never occurred to her to throw 
any formality into her reply, and her next words 
banished forever any misgivings the boy might 
have entertained as to the outcome of this act. 
" Will she be stiff and prim?" had been his in- 
ward doubt while coming back to the home so 
long untenanted by his parents, and learning 
that their next-door neighbor had an only 
daughter of about his own age. He had been 
at school abroad, and " manners polite " had 
been as breakfast, dinner, and supper to him for 
three long years, till very little of the genuine 
boy appeared upon the surface, however much it 
seethed and bubbled beneath. True to his train- 
ing, the card had been produced when occasion 
called for it ; but the sigh of relief which came 
at Denise's next words told that a mighty bur- 
den had been lifted from his boyish soul. 

" Oh, how perfectly splendid ! You are 
Hart Murray, mama's old friend's son. Come 
straight over the fence and let me show you all 
my pets, and we '11 talk till we can't think of 
another word to say ! " 

Ch.apter III. 


No second invitation was needed, and, rest- 
ing one hand upon the fence. Hart gave one 
of those " neck-or-nothing bounds " which only 




boys can make, and the next instant stood be- 
side the surprised girl. 

"How under the sun did you do it?" she 
exclaimed ; for, never having had any boy com- 
panions cxcejjting her cousins from the city, 
Denise hardly knew what to expect. 

" Oh, that 's nothing," answered the boy, 
modestly, as he followed Denise over the lawn, 
and a moment later was surrounded by her in- 
quisitive family. Ned promptly struck an atti- 
tude, and sniffed from afar in long, audible 
breaths ; Tan presented arms, so to speak, by 
trying to rear upon his hind legs as of old, and 
make believe to butt the new-comer; Sailor 
walked right up to him and put his paw into 
his hand; and Beauty, not to be outdone in 
politeness, instantly began to do his tricks for 
their guest's benefit, finally sitting up on his 
hind legs to " beg " and " sneeze " three times 
in rapid succession. Overhead the kittens kept 
up a sort of accompaniment to the others' per- 
formances by running rapidly up and down the 
limbs and meowing incessantly. 

"I say! What a lot of them ! " e.xclaimed 
the boy. "And are n't they dandies ? " 

" Yes, I think that they are a pretty nice 
group. Tan is all dressed up because it is his 

" Not really ! What a joke, for it 's mine, 
too. I 'm twelve years old to-day, and that is 
the reason I came out here — a sort of birthday 
treat, don't you see." 

" How funny ! " cried Denise ; " but is n't it 
splendid, too ! Let 's leave my pets down here 
to enjoy themselves while you and I get up 
into the tree. See the seats up there? It 's a 
fine place for a powwow." 

Hart glanced up into the blossom-laden tree, 
and, without another word, began to scramble 
into its fragrant depths, Denise following as 
nimbly as a squirrel. Seating themselves upon 
bits of board which had been nailed in the 
branches, they at once availed themselves of 
one blessed privilege of youth, and asked ques- 
tions by the dozen. 

" When did you come out ? " was Denise's 
first (juestion. 

"Just before luncheon, with Mrs. Dean, the 
housekeeper. Father and mother won't be out 
until to-morrow. But I could n't wait any 

longer. You see, I had n't seen the place since 
I was just a little kid only five years old, and 
mother said that she had always lived here 
when she was a girl, and that your mother was 
her old school friend. And then she told me 
about your pets, and — and — well, she said 
that she hoped you and I would grow to be 
good friends too, don't you see"; and the hand- 
some blue eyes smiled in the friendliest way. 
Hart was a handsome boy, tall and well formed 
for a boy of twelve, with a firm mouth, fine 
teeth, and the most winning smile imaginable. 
Little brown Denise was an exact opposite; for 
his hair was a mass of golden waves, hers as 
dark as a seal's. 

"Why, of course we '11 be friends," said Denise, 

As they sat chattering, a musical " bob-white " 
whistle sounded almost beneath their feet, and 
Mrs. Lombard's face peered through the boughs. 

" That boy up there is Hart Murray," she said 
merrily. " I know, for he has stolen his mother's 
eyes and golden hair and come out here to 
masquerade. Come straight down and let me 
shake hands with you." 

It would have been hard to resist Mrs. Lom- 
bard's cordial welcome, and a moment later 
Hart's slender hand lay in hers, and she was 
smiling into his face as only Mrs. Lombard 
could smile. " I thought I heard a wondrous 
piping out in the old apple-tree," she said, " and 
came out to learn what manner of bird had 
taken possession. I have found a rare one, sure 
enough, and shall try to induce it to spend a 
good part of its time in my grounds." 

" I don't believe it will need much coa.xing," 
was the laughing reply. 

" Oh, we have laid all sorts of splendid plans 
already," cried Denise, "and were just going 
over to the stables when you whistled. Come 
with us, moddie." 

Slipping her arm about her mother's waist, 
Denise led the way. Resting her hand upon 
the shoulder of the tall boy walking beside her, 
Mrs. Lombard asked : " And what are the 
plans for good times ? " 

" Oh, all sorts of things. Father says that he 
will get me a pony, and a boat. Denise and I 
can have jolly rides, and I '11 take her rowing if 
you will let her go. Will you?" he asked eagerly. 



1 May, 

" Dear me ! who will guarantee her safe re- 
turn ? " asked Mrs. Lombard. 

" Oh, I '11 take first-rate care of her, if you '11 
only let her come ; please say yes." 

Ned Toodles had always displayed a very 
marked aversion for any one resembling a man, 
and it was funny enough to watch his attitude 
toward Hart. At first he submitted to being 
petted with the air of " Well, good breeding 
compels me to show no aversion, but, remem- 
ber, you are only accepted on probation." But 
Hart was too manly a chap to torment an 
animal, and before long Ned grew very fond of 

The stable did not boast a man's saddle, and 
Ned would be likely to make things pretty lively 
for the first mascuhne creature attempting to 
mount him. So when Hart asked if he could 
ride him, Denise said, " I shall have to get the 
new saddle from the harness-room," and went 
to the pretty little closet containing all Ned's 
belongings. Taking from it her own beautiful 
little saddle with its castor seat and immaculate 
saddle-cloth, she hastily rigged up a stirrup 
upon the right side, unscrewed the pommels, 
and, heigh, presto ! there was your man's saddle 
fine as a fiddle. 

Ned was then taken from his stall, and the 
saddle adjusted. So far, so good. That move 
was not an unusual one, and his little mistress 
had superintended the operation. No doubt 
she was gomg to ride him, even though she had 
rigged up that queer dangling thing upon the 
right side of the saddle. 

Arrived at the entrance gate. Hart prepared 
to mount the pony. 

Denise knew Ned's peculiarities regarding 
boys, but it seemed impolite to say more than 
that he did not like some boys. But well enough 
she knew that there would be, as she mentally 
termed it, " a high old time " when Hart tried 
to ride Ned. However, Ned was not vicious, 
and the worst outcome of the venture would 
be a spill, which, she thought. Hart would not 
mind in the least. Now Ned's usual proce- 
dure, when submitted to the indignity of a 
boyish burden, was to stand perfectly still 
undl he had his victim safe upon his back, 
looking, meanwhile, the very picture of inno- 
cence and meekness — a sort of " what-a-good- 

boy-am-I " expression. So when Hart gathered 
up the bridle in the most scientific manner, — for 
he had ridden ever since he was old enough, and 
was a skilful little horseman, — Ned wagged one 
ear wisely and "prepared for action." 

Hart placed his foot in the stirrups, ad- 
justing the makeshift one to his satisfaction. 
" Now, old fellow, let 's show our paces!" he 
said, and Ned took him at his word. First a 
sedate walk, smooth and easy as a rock- 
ing-chair, but gradually growing more rapid. 
Charming! The walk then changed into a trot, 
quite the park gait. Now a gende lope. 
Could anything be more perfect than that gaii ? 
His rider became more than ever convinced 
that the animal he was bestriding was the most 
perfectly broken one he had ever ridden. All 
this time one wise eye was cocked knowingly 
backward, to watch the boy upon his back, and 
note with great satisfaction that his confidence 
in his mount was momentarily increasing. Then ! 
Off like a mad thing, tail up in the air, head 
down, and Tam o' Shanter's imps in hot pur- 
suit, till about three blocks are told off. HALT! 
Up went the hind legs, and down went the head, 
and it is indeed a skilled rider who sticks on at 
that point of the game. 

But this time Master Ned had reckoned with- 
out his host, for his host " did n't spill worth a 
cent," as that host himself asserted. Then 
came a tussle, and up and down the road tore 
that crazy little beast, bent upon dislodging 
Hart or dying in the attempt. Meanwhile 
Denise was standing at the gate, screaming with 
laughter, and Mrs. Lombard looking on with 
considerable anxiety. Hart's hat had long since 
sailed into a neighboring field, and most of his 
attire looked as though he had dressed himself 
in the dark. But he was still on Ned's back, 
and, BO far as that bad little scamp's efforts 
were concerned, likely to stay there. 

" Ned Toodles, how can you be so bad ! " 
cried Denise. Ned stopped short at that sound, 
and took time to consider the situation. Fatal 
moment! Fatal, at least, for Hart ; for into that 
wise little horse-noddle flashed an idea, which 
without a second's hesitation was acted upon. 
With a wild, triumphant neigh, he wheeled 
short around, made a rush for an open gate at 
the end of the grounds, pelted through it like a 

»9<H ) 



monstrous cannon-hall, and a second later was 
in Buttercup's cow-yard. Now lUittcrcup was 
the dearest cow in the world, and her eyes were 
beautiful to behold, and her coat was like satin. 
But the barn-yard — well, they are very nice 
places for coics. Into this yard came Ned like 
a tornado, scaring poor Buttercup out of her 
wits, for, although upon the fnendhcst of terms, 
she had never before received a visit from Ned. 

"So you 7iion't get off my back I " said Ned's 
face and attitude, as plainly as words could 
have said it. " We '11 sec ! " And down he went 
flat upon his side. What happened next would 
better be left untold. Alas for the pretty castor 
saddle ! When Denise arrived upon the scene 
Ned was still resting from his labors, Hart stood 
staring at the peacefully reposing animal with a 
decidedly crestfallen air, and John had come 
up to " drop a casual word " on affairs in general. 

Ned had never been whipped, but he came 
near to chastisement that time, and did not forget 
his sound scolding ; but after that an armistice 
was declared, and Hart was permitted to ride all 
he wished, Ned evidently feehng that he had 
earned the right to do so. 

Not long after this. Hart's pony was given to 
him, and although somewhat larger than Ned 
Toodles, as warm a friendship was formed by 
the two little horses as existed between their 
master and mistress. " Pinto," as Hart's pony 
was named, on account of his ])eculiar markings, 
was a dear little beastie, although he never at- 
tained to the degree of intelligence that Ned 
displayed as the years went on. But that, no 
doubt, was because his life had not been so 
closely associated with a human being as Ned's 
had been ever since he became Denise's pet. 

Denise and Hart, mounted upon Ned and 
Pinto, ranged the country far and wide, and it 
was a far corner indeed that they did not find 

( TiJ ht' canltiiut-ii. ) 

their way into, sooner or later. Those spring 
months, with all their bud and bloom, were 
halcyon days for the boy and girl, for Hart 
literally lived at Mrs. Lombard's home, till Mrs. 
Murray, who was calling one day, said to her: 
" Emilie Lombard, when do you intend to send 
in my son's board bill ? This is simply dreadful ! 
He is hardly out of bed in the morning before 
he is making some excuse to come over here. " 

" Let him come as often as he likes, please. 
It is good for Denise to have such a sturdy play- 
mate, for she has never had any real crony but 
Pokey, who is such a gentle little soul that I 'm 
afraid Denise will think more of her own way 
than some one's else." 

" Well, you have no idea what it means to 
me to have that boy so happily associated ! " 
exclaimed Mrs. Murray. " Denise is just the 
jolly little chum for him to have." 

" It all seems too delightful to be true," said 
Mrs. Lombard ; " and to have you again for 
my neighbor after all these years of separation 
makes me feel like a young girl again." 

" You have never been anything else," replied 
Mrs. Murray ; " for you have stayed young 
with Denise, and that is the secret of your 
beautiful attitude toward each other. Well, 
you must not let Hart remain to dinner to- 
night, at all events," added Mrs. Murray. " Send 
him home in time to dine with his father, or I 
do not know what will happen." 

"Very well; home he goes at the stroke of 
five, to remove all traces of the afternoon's 
siege before Mr. Murray's arrival at six." 

" Yes, please ; it will be a real kindness : for 
my time is so occupied with the other children 
that I fear I have let Hart ' paddle his own ca- 
noe' more than I should have done. But they 
are all so small that they need me more. Good- 
by, and run over when you can." 

iir^rj-'^.jm ^5f-'«^ 




(Begun in the November number.) 

Bv B. L. Far.teon. 

Chapter XX. 

LuLLA, LuLLA, Lullaby. 

The appearance of the grounds of Marybud 
Lodge did not favor the idea that the world 
was coming to an end, what was taking place 
thereon being particularly lively and jolly. 
The little estate having no regular orchard, the 
fruit-trees were dotted about here, there, and 
everywhere, in the most charming disregard of 
mathematical system ; and this made it all the 
more delightful, because you were continually 
coming upon a fruit-tree when you least e.x- 
pected it. The apples and pears were grow- 
ing, but were not yet eatable ; the cherries, 
however, were quite ripe and very fine, one 
white-heart tree in particular eliciting a cho- 
rus of admiring " oh's ! " . Loushkin's tre- 

mendous height gave him a great advantage 
over the other celebrities, and being a glutton 
in the eating of fruit, he stuffed himself with 
cherries as fast as he could pluck them. To 
the general outcry that he was not playing 
fair he paid no attention. Cries of " Unfair I " 
" Oh, you greedy ! " fell upon deaf ears. He 
paid no regard to them, and looked down upon 
the royal pigmies with disdain. None of the 
warriors had the hardihood to come to blows 
with him ; even the Lion-heart did not feel 
himself equal to such a contest. 

It was Tom Thumb who solved the difficulty, 
and who once more proved to be the hero of 
the party. 

" I 'II be lambasted if I 'm going to stand 
this I " he cried ; and he ran to the kitchen and 
returned with Mrs. Peckham's toasting-fork, 




with which he prodded the giant's legs, by way 
of little pin-pricks, which made him stamp and 
roar. But Tom easily dodged the huge legs ; 
nimbly and gleefully did he skip in and out, 
like a school-boy playing a game, and contin- 
ued to tease Loushkin till the giant could 
stand it no longer, and cried a truce. To 
show that he bore no malice, he hoisted Tom 
up into the tree, and the little man climbed to 
(he higher branches, loaded with magnificent 
cherries, which he threw down to the eager 
celebrities, who feasted on them to their heart's 
content. They were all very gay, and behaved 
more like children than the famous people they 
were. It was hard to believe that the world, 
at one time and another, stood in awe of them. 
Queen Elizabeth had taken a great fancy to 
Lydia, who had put cherries with double stalks 
over Lucy's ears and her own, and so far un- 
bent as to say : 

" Those cherry ear-rings in thine ears be- 
come thee marvelously well. Fix a pair in 
mine, maiden." 

The fashion being set, all the ladies followed 
suit, as is the way of ladies, and were presently 
walking about decked with cherry ear-rings. 
Richard III, in a crafty voice, was compli- 
menting Mary Queen of Scots upon her beau- 
tifully shaped ears, which these adornments, he 
declared, made even more beautiful, when she, 
taking his compliments in earnest, asked him 
to sling a hammock for her between two trees. 
This he proceeded to do, and when he had 
finished, he offered his hand to the lady to 
assist her. But Tom Thumb, who had been 
watching him, sprang forward and cried : 

"Do not use it, Scotland's Queen! See — 
he has so cunningly twined the ropes that the 
moment you get into the hammock you will 
fall to the ground." Then, turning to the 
crooked king, he said : " You will earn the 
tar and feathers yet, Richard Three, and I shall 
be glad to be at the barbecue." 

"Pest on thee!" exclaimed Richard III. 
" How darest thou interfere, and what meanest 
thou by thy tar and feathers?" 

" It is a national institootion, monarch," re- 
plied Tom Thumb, " — ■ an institution which the 
free and enlightened citizens of a great republic 
are much skilled in and greatly proud of." 

" Nay, Tom of the Thumb," said Richard 
Coeur de Lion, " thou canst not claim that 
novel penalty as a national institution, for it is 
one of our own ordinances, tlevised for the 
punishment of knaves when we were on the 
English throne." 

"Knave in thy teeth!" cried Richard III, 
"darest thou apjily that epithet to us ? " 

" Ay, thou false rogue. I dare that, and 
more, and will prove it, an thou wilt, on thy 
scurvy pate." 

" Bully for you! " said Tom Tliumb. " Now, 
Richard Three, speak your little speaklet and 
show your muscle." 

But the surly monarch slunk away, mutter- 
ing direst vengeance against the little man and 
all his royal cousins. 

Queen Elizabeth, who had been standing 
near, said to Lucy : 

" Our gallant little Tom of the Thumb hath 
a shrewd head upon his shoulders. Had he 
more inches he would have been a great sol- 
dier. As for the hammock, we deem such beds 
a sweet resting-place for babes, while the care- 
ful mother, rocking it, sings a lullaby. We 
do not recall that Will Shakspere wrote a lulla- 
by for babes. If he had done so it would surely 
be sung in every English home. There are 
some sweet lullaby words in that marvelous play 
'.\ Midsommer Nights Dreame,' writ in the true 
spirit of poesie. Titania — do you know who 
Titania was, child? " 

" No, your Majesty," replied Lucy, embar- 
rassed at having to display her ignorance. 

" You should, child. She was the fairy queen, 
and fell in love with a donkey. Titania says 
to her train : 

' Come, now a Roundel, and a Fairy song; 
. . . Sing me now aslecpe, 
Then to your offices, and let me rest.' 

How doth the chorus run? 'M, 'm, 'm! Ha, 
I have it : 

' Philomele, witli melody, 
Sing in your sweet I.ullahy ; 
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby. 

Never lianne, nor spell, nor charme. 
Come our lovely Lady nye, 
So good night, with Lullaby.' " 

" Lulla, lulla, lullaby," sapg Lucy to herself. 
"How beautiful it is! 'So, good night with 




lullaby. Lulla, lulla, lullaby.' And here is 
the prettiest daisy-chain of all for you. I love 
you, Queen Elizabeth." 

"And we love thee, sweet child," said Queen 
Elizabeth. " When our revels here are ended 
we shall be always pleased to see thee in our 
court at Marylebone. It will gladden our 
eyes to look on thee when thou art grown 
to be a maiden like thy sister Lydia." 

"1 will come often," said Lucy, and went 
on singing " Lulla, lulla, lullaby," as she moved 
about the grounds. She could not forget the 
words, nor for that matter did she wish to for- 
get them. 

"And we lay it upon thee," continued Queen 
Elizabeth, " that now and again thou shall de- 
vote an hour to the sweet singer whose poems 
shed luster on our reign. Whither is the fair 
Lydia flying? There is quicksilver in her 
pretty feet. Goeth she to put a girdle round 
the earth? " 

" To the front gate," cried Lucy, starting up. 
"I hear Harry Bower's voice!" 

" Run, child, run. Our trusty knight, Tom 
of the Thumb, will remain by our side." 

Oliver Cromwell was keeping guard when 
the front door-bell rang, and kept his hand on 
Sir Rowley's collar as the old gardener limped 
forward to open the gate. 

"Be that you, Mr. Bower?" Sir Rowley 

" Yes, Rowley," answered Harry, outside. 

"Open the gate — quick!" cried Lydia. 
"Don't be frightened, Harry!" 

In a twinkling the gate was open and shut, 
Harry was inside, and Oliver Cromwell, stern 
and straight, was looking down upon the young 

Lydia rushed into Harry's arms and kissed 
him, and he kissed her. They forgot that 
everybody was looking on. 

Cromwell frowned. Mary Queen of Scots 
and Mme. Sainte Amaranthe laughed. 

Harry Bower had in his arms a packet of 
immense size. 

" I have brought them, Lydia," he whis- 

" The chocolate creams, Harry ? " 

"Yes; fourteen pounds in pound bags — I 
bought some of every sort they had in the shop." 

He did not show any astonishment at what 
was going on around him, whatever he might 
iiave felt. Lydia's letter had prepared him for 
the most amazing events, and he kept saying 
to himself as he walked to Marybud Lodge: 
" Harry, my boy, you must not be surprised 
at anything you see. There is something very 
mysterious behind all this, but Lydia knows 
what she is about, so be prepared for wonders." 
That is why he did not take to his heels when 
he saw all those strangely attired celebrities 
staring at him, and why he smiled quite brightly 
when a little old woman in black came for- 
ward and said : 

"Take him away, Lucy and Lydia, and tell 
him everything." 

So the two girls conducted the fortunate 
young man to a secluded part of the grounds 
called the Nut Walk, and poured the wonder- 
ful news into his ears. He took it all very 
coolly, the only remarks he made while they 
were talking being, "Yes, yes, yes," "Oh, of 
course," " Very natural." 

" But are you not surprised, Harry ? " asked 

" A little — inside of me," he answered. 

" You would never have guessed, would 
you? " 

" Never. But now that I know what it is, 
and see them all walking about, and hear them 
all talking, it seems the most natural thing in 
the world. What did you say in your letter? 
That you had every confidence in the strange 
friends by whom you were surrounded. That 
is enough for me. / have every confidence in 
the strange friends by whom / am surrounded. 
Can Lydia be wrong in (7//_t'thing she says, 
Lucy ? No, she cannot. Would I go through 
fire and water for Lydia ? Yes, I would. 
Is n't this much pleasanter than going through 
fire and water ? Yes, it is. There it is in a 

"You dear boy!" said Lydia, brimming 
over with lo\e for him. 

" You dear girl ! " said Harry, brimming 
over with love for her. 

Then they both threw their arms round 
Lucy, and lavished the fondest endearments 
on her for having brought them together so 
happily, and Lucy said, " It is nice, is n't it? " 



60 I 


" I came here prejiared, you see," said 
Harry, pursuing the theme. " If, when I 
entered the Lodge, I had seen all the trees 
walking about, dressed in the latest fash- 
ion, and all the cherries had hopped off 
the branches and run after me, begging 
me to eat them, and if your dear little 
pony had trotted up to me and remarked 
in French that it was a bright day, but that 
he feared we should have rain, I should 
have thought nothing of it at all, after 
reading Lydia's letter." 

" We must n't stop talking here any 
longer," said Lucy. " There are things 
to be purchased ; we have a grand dinner- 
party to-night, and Mrs. Peckham has 
nothing to cook." 

"Listen to Mama Lucy," said Harry, 
merrily. " Lydia, I think I .shall marry 
Lucy instead of you." 

" I would n't have you, Harry," said 
Lucy, in a stately way. " You are the 
property of another person. Come along, 
come along." 

Harry was introduced to the celebrities, 
and immediately won their good graces 
iiy distributing three pounds of chocolate 
creams among them. Mine. Tussautl took 
charge of the remainder, saying it would 
not do to make her people sick. Then she 
and Lucy and Lydia went into the kitchen 
and discussed provisions with the Mar- 
chioness of Barnet, and if anything were 
needed to complete their happiness it was 
supplied by old Mr. Scarlett, who popped 
in and said to Harry, " How do you do, 
Harry.' " just as if there had never been 
the slightest difference of opinion between 
them ; and when Harry replied that he had 
never felt better in his life, and hoped Mr. 
Scarlett was the same, the old gentleman 
said in an offhand manner: "Just so, just 
so. Of course you will spend the day here 
and take dinner with us.' " 

" I shall be more than delighted, sir," 
said Harry, who was in the seventh hea- 
ven of happiness. 

It was altogether the very pleasantest 
scene that had ever taken place in a kitchen, 
and one could fancy the sly little god of 

Vol. XXXI. 





love peeping out of a corner and clapping his 
chubby hands in approval. 

Then Harry had a happy thought. He said 
that he could not go out and purchase the pro- 
visions alone ; he must have feminine assis- 

" You see, Mme. Tussaud," he said, " it is 
not only quantity, but quahty, that has to be 
seen to. I can do the quantity, but I can't do 
the qualitv. That requires a lady's judgment." 

" Lucy," said Mme. Tussaud, with a sly 
twinkle, " vou go with Harry Bower and look 
after the quality." 

Harry and Lydia looked imploringly at 
Lucy, who promptly replied: "I should make 
the most absurd mistakes. I don't know a 
duck from a goose unless they are walking 
about. Lydia is the proper person." 

" But perhaps Lydia does n't want to go 
with Harry," said the old lady. 

" Oh, I don't mind a bit," said Lydia, Avhich 
set them all laughing. 

" It can't be done," said Mme. Tussaud, 
" without some alteration in the articles of war. 
At present no one except Harry is allowed to 
go in and out." 

Away she trotted to consult her celebrities, 
and had a hard task of it. Henry VHI in- 
sisted that it was he, and he alone, who should 
escort Lydia to the shops, and Richard HI de- 
clared he could get everything that was needed 
at the point of the sword, and that it would make 
it much easier for Lydia if he went with her. 
Mme. Tussaud would not listen to them, and 
eventually returned to the kitchen and saitl 
that Harry and Lydia were to go. Off flew 
Lvdia for her hat and mantle, and then the 
happy lovers went to the gate. 

" Tarry not, fair maiden," said Henry Ylll ; 
"our heart will be heavy until thy return. If 
thou art long absent, the birds will forget how 
to sing." 

" He does n't mean anvthing bv it," whis- 
pered Lydia, pressing Harry's arm. " It is only 
his way." 

Chapter XXI. 


It took Lydia and Harry a long time to 
make their purchases, and when all the sup- 

plies had been bought, the kitchen and larder 
were furnished with such quantities of provi- 
sions as to cause great astonishment and admi- 
ration among the domestics. Every Iioo'k had 
to be brought into use, and tables, dressers, and 
shelves were fairly loaded. Harry, feeling that 
this was the turning-point in his life, made pur- 
chases in the most reckless manner, and he was 
not a bit annoyed, but only laughed at Lydia's 
gentle remonstrances. 

" My darling girl," he said, " Quality is your 
department. Quantity is mine. Just you see 
that everything is fresh ; I will take care that 
they have enough." 

There was no doubt about that. Never was 
there such a provider! Ducks and fowls by the 
dozen, fore quarters and legs of lamb, ribs of 
beef (" Short ribs, please," Lydia had said to the 
butcher, and Harry thought it very wonderful 
of her), saddles of mutton, all the kidneys and 
sweetbreads the butcher could supply, great 
baskets of green peas, French beans, asparagus, 
new potatoes, tomatoes, and delicacies of every 
possible kind. The tradesmen were jubilant, 
and kept recommending things to Harry — hot- 
house pineapples, peaches, nectarines, grapes, 
and goodness knows what ; and he kept nod- 
ding his head and saying, " Yes, we will take 
that, and that, and that," paying all the bills 
without asking the price. 

" Oh, Harry," said Lydia, " you will be 
ruined! " 

But, for all that, she could not help admiring 
her dear boy for his generosity. He purchased 
other things as well as provisions — air-pistols, 
bows, arrows, and targets, bats and shuttle- 
cocks, skipping-ropes, humming-tops, whip tops, 
balls, kites, monkeys on sticks, Japanese fire- 
works, rolling-hoops, marbles, ping-pong, and an 
" Aunt Sally " ; and he hired a magic lantern and 
slides. He almost emptied the toy-shop. Lydia 
kept pulling at his sleeve and saying, " No, 
no, Harrv!" and he kept on ordering more 
things and saying, " Yes, yes, Lydia ; it 's all 
right! The more the merrier." At last she 
sank despairingly into a chair in a state of comic . 
stupefaction, — which made her look prettier 
than ever, if anything could, — and the shop- 
woman brought her a glass of water. 

They made half a dozen journeys back to 




the Lodge, followed by a regiment of stout enjoyed, the ladies sitting in it one after an- 
errand-boys carrying heavy loads, and every other, and the gentlemen pulling the ropes and 
time they presented themselves they were re- pushing. " Higher, higher, higher! " screamed 


ceived with shouts of approval by a very jolly 
lot of fun-loving royalties and notables. 

All the toys and games they had purchased 
were carried to the playground, and Harry 
and Liicy and Lydia had as much as they 
could do to explain them to the celebritie.s. 
Harry fitted up a new swing, which was much 

Queen Elizabeth and Mme. Saintc Ainaranthe ; 
but Mary Queen of Scots was less daring, and 
shrieked in terror when she was whirled high 
in the air. Animated as was the scene which 
had been presented to the eyes of Mr. Scar- 
lett when he first beheld j:he celebrities, it was 
tame in comparison with what was now to be 




seen in the playground. The celebrities were 
wild for fun, and were behaving like school- 
boys set free from school. They flew from 
one pastir ; to another. Queen Elizabeth was 
sitting on a rocking-horse, and Tom Thumb 
was rocking her ; Cromwell and Richard Coeur 
de Lion were whirling a skipping-rope for 
Mary Queen of Scots and Mme. Sainte Ama- 
ranthe and Lucy ; Guy Fawkes was setting off 
Japanese fireworks; Henry VIII and Richard 
III were trundling hoops; Houqua had taken 
pieces of very thin paper of various colors 
from the folds of his robe, and was making 
butterflies, which he kept flying in the air with 
his fan ; Lydia and Harry were having a game 
of battledore and shuttlecock ; Loushkin was 
on guard at the front gate, and Charles II 
on guard at the back. 

It was just when Henry VIII had run his 
hoop between Richard Ill's legs, and when 
the crooked monarch was picking himself up 
and growling and fuming, and when Harry, 
roaring with laughter, was mischievously trying 
to trip the ladies with the skipping-rope, that 
Lorimer Grimweed rang the front door-bell. 
Being admitted, he saw nothing of these mad 
pranks, the playground being round the cor- 
ner, at a little distance from the lawn. The 
only persons in view were Loushkin and Sir 

" Hello, Rowley," cried Lorimer Grimweed. 
" Who is this lamp-post, don'tcherknow? " 

But Sir Rowley had scuttled off. Lorimer 
looked at the giant in amazement, but Loushkin 
took no notice of him. 

" This is a rum go," said Lorimer Grimweed. 
" I say, you May-pole, who are you when you 're 
at home? " 

" When I am at home," replied Loushkin, in 
a thunderous voice, " I am drum-major in his 
Imperial Majesty's Preobrajensky Regiment of 
Russian Guards." 

" Oh," said Lorimer Grimweed, in still greater 
amazement, " that 's what you are? " 

" That is what I am, and I give you to un- 
derstand that it is against orders to speak to 
the man at the wheel." 

" But look here, you know," remonstrated 
Lorimer Grimweed, with an eye to exactitude ; 
"you 're not at the wheel, you know." 

Loushkin did not reply in words. He placed 
the fingers and thumb of one huge hand upon 
Lorimer Grimweed's head, and spun him round 
like a teetotum. 

"Oh, I say, you know!" cried Lorimer 
Grimweed. "Here! Lookout! What are 
you up to? Oh, grimes! Oh, oh, oh!" 

This was the protest which came in breath- 
less jerks from the spinning schemer, his teeth 
chattering, his eyeballs rolling wildly, and his 
hands stretched forth in the endeavor to catch 
hold of something to stop his spinning round 
and round. He caught hold of a human form, 
— the form of Miss Pennyback, — who, observ- 
ing what had taken place, had rushed out to his 

" Keep tight hold of me," he gasped, cling- 
ing to her both as a prop and a protection. 
"The world 's going round — and oh, grimes! 
my head! Did you witness the assault? Don't 
deny it, don'tcherknow. You must have wit- 
nessed it." 

" I did, sir," she answered in a sympathizing 
tone, "and I was deeply grieved — though I 
cannot say I was astonished." 

"Oh, were n't you? That 's a good un, 
that is. Not astonished? Oh, ah! What 
next, I wonder? " 

" Goodness knows, sir," she said, as she sup- 
ported him into the house. "After what has 
taken place this day nothing would astonish 
me. But, hush! Mr. Scarlett approaches!" 

" Good morning, Mr. Grimweed," said the 
old gentleman. " Good morning, good morn- 
ing, good morning." He was so nervous that 
he would have continued to repeat " good 
morning " several times had not Lorimer Grim- 
weed stopped him. 

" Hang your 'good mornings '! Here, I say 
— who 's the man on stilts, and what 's the 
meaning of the assault committed upon me the 
moment I entered the Lodge? None of your 
shirking, don'tcherknow. I 've got a witness, 
and I '11 have heavy damages." 

"Assault! Dear me! Assault! Dear me, 
dear me!" The old gentleman was quite at 
sea. He stammered ; he kept mopping liis 
brow with a huge bandana handkerchief ; in- 
deed, in those few seconds he did several things 
for which there was no reason whatever. 




Lorimer Grimweed looked at him with sus- " Do I look like ' tiie wax un' ? I 'm the 
picion. "There's something in the wind," original." Miss Pennyback was about to make 

tliought he. 

" Where 's Lyddy? " he asked. 

" My daughter is in the garden." 

" Oh, is she? She knows what I 'vc come 
for, does n't she? And you know what I 've 
come for, don't you? " 

"Yes, of course. The new lease. Have 
you brought it? " 

" I 've brought it, right enough. Here it is, 
and it will be signed when Lyddy gives me the 
answer I expect — not before, Mr. Scarlett, not 
before. I 'm not going to be played upon any 

a remark when Mine. Tussaud said, " We can 
dispense with your presence, Miss Pe .lyback. 
Oblige me by retiring. Remember!" 

For a moment Miss Pennyback thought of 
resisting. She recognized a possible ally in 
I.orimer Grimweed, and she would have dearly 
loved to checkmate her enemy ; but when 
Mme. Tussaud advanced toward her, with the 
magic cane extended, she gave utterance to a 
shriek, and fled. 

" What is this? " said Mme. Tussaud, taking 
up the copy of the lease which Lorimer Grim- 

longer. Not if I know it, sir! Does n't think weed had put on the table. 
I 'm good enough for her, hey? My stars! "Here, I say, just you drop that! It be- 
That 's rich. Not good enough? Oh! Ah!" longs to me, don'tcherknow? Just you hand 
" It is n't exactly that, Mr. Grimweed," said it over," said Grimweed. 

" I perceive that it 's a new lease of Marybud 
Lodge," said Mme. Tussaud, paying no heed 
to his request. " Are you going to sign it ? I 
will be a witness." 

" Wait till you 're asked, old lady. The 
lease w-ill be sitrned when the conditions are 

Mr. Scarlett, and he was glad that Lorimer 
Grimweed interrupted him, for he did not know 
what he was going to say next. 

" Oh, it ain't exactly that, ain't it? I say, 
Mr. Scarlett, there 's a sort of change in you 
that I don't find agreeable. If you 're playing 

any of your tricks on me, look out, that 's all fulfilled." 

I've got to say — look out. Hello!" — as, " Is Miss Lydia one of the conditions? " 

greatly to Mr. Scarlett's relief, Mme. Tussaud "Yes, she is, if you want to know. Here, I 

sailed into the room— " here 's another of 'em. say, Mr. Scarlett, what's the meaning of all 

Who art you when you 're at home ? " This was this? I 'm not the man to stand any one's im- 

a favorite form of inquiry with him ; he con- pudence, you know." 

sidered it smart and cutting. " My dear Mr. Grimweed," said Mme. Tus- 

"I am a friend of the family," replied the saud, very sweetly, "why put yourself out? 

old lady, " when I 'm nt home, and when I 'm You and I and the ladies and gentlemen who 

out." have accompanied me are going to be the best 

" Oh, are you? The family have a lot of of friends. I will take care of the document." 

new friends I did n't know anything about. " It is n't worth the paper it 's written on till 

You look as if you 'd just come out of the Ark," it 's signed," said Lorimer Grimweed. 

said Lorimer Grimweed with a grin. " Grimes! " Of course it is not." 

What a bonnet! How 's Noah and all the "I say, how does it happen you know my 

little uns? But here, stop a minute— I 've seen 
you before somewhere. By Jove, yes! But, 
no, it can't be! " 

" My name is Mme. Tussaud. I should 
think you /lave seen me before." 

" Not the wax un ? " exclaimed Lorimer 
Grimweed, lost in astonishment. 

{To be continued.) 

name? " 

" How does it happen I know a great many 
things? " 

" And what do you mean by the ladies and 
gentlemen who have accompanied you? " 

" You will soon find out," said Mme. Tus- 
saud. " Come and see." 


By J. M. Gleeson. 

The coyote (ko-yd'te) is a most unpopular 
little beast, sharing, though to a greater degree, 
the general discredit attached to his more or 
less civilized brother, the yellow dog. As he 
prowls around a camp or lonely ranch-house, 
making night hideous with his shrill yap-yap- 
yapping, and on the lookout for anything good 
to eat, from a leather bridle to a leg of lamb. 

He has neither the cunning of his small 
cousin the fox, nor the speed and strength of 
his big cousin the wolf, but for all that, and in 
spite of constant persecution, he manages fairlv 
well to hold his own against the ill will of an 
unsympathetic world. 

In many of the Western States these animals 
are still quite numerous, and when we remember 


his reception is ever the same— hard words and 
a harder bullet, or more likely a little strych- 
nine. He will eat anything he can catch : 
mice, prairie-dog, prairie-chicken, and of course 
the scraps left over by the big gray wolf. He 
is, in fact, a mere scavenger, but one whose ser- 
vices have not been found acceptable to man. 

that in a single family there may be from si.x to 
ten little coyotes, we can readily understand 
why in the wilder sections of our country they 
do not disappear altogether. 

It must keep Papa and Mama Coyote very 
busy to care for their numerous family, for they 
have not only to be fed, and that requires con- 

Tilt: COYOTE. 


Slant foraging, but also guarded against innu- 
merable dangers. 

In captivity they are not always good pa- 
rents, and I saw one coyote that killed seven 
out of her litter of eight. Perhaps she did not 
wish them to grow up in captivity. It was 
curious, however, that she should have saved 
just one. She was an an.xious though not over- 
gentle mother to the little survivor of this grue- 
some domestic tragedy. Sometimes, for no 
evident reason, she would pick him up in her 
mouth, the long, sharp fangs closing down over 
the little fellow wherever she happened to seize 
him, sometimes on the back, but just as often 
on his head, and trot around her cage on noise- 
less, tireless feet, as though looking for a place 
to conceal him, the little fellow kicking and 
squealing all the time to be set free. Of 
course he could not understand that in this 
fashion his mother would have carried him 
away from danger had they been on the prairie, 
where all her instincts were developed. 

It is a very pretty sight to see a litter of lit- 
tle, brown, fuzzy coyotes when they begin to 
crawl about, and I have watched them for 
hours as they clambered and tumbled around 
their mother. They soon tried to get over the 
high board threshold of their house, and on one 

occasion, when one stronger and braver than 
the rest finally did so and landed on his head 
in the wide, wide world, the very first thing he 
did was to totter over to the pool of water in 
the center of the cage and tumble in. And 
there he would have remained had I not has- 
tily summoned a keeper, for his mama made 
no response to his cries for help. 

I have never had any difficulty in making 
friends with the gray wolves I happened to be 
sketching. Immediately on my appearance, 
no matter what they were doing, they came at 
once to the bars to be scratched and talked to, 
and when their coats were changing and their 
skins very sensitive they would stand there any 
length of time while I pulled away the loose 
tufts of hair, their every action e.xpressing a 
somewhat sullen friendliness. But with the 
coyote it was different. They never make 
friends with nor lose their fear of man. 

Generally speaking, they resemble the prairie- 
wolf, but are much smaller and of a browner 
color ; their fur is also longer and the tail more 
bushy. They vary considerably in color, chang- 
ing with the seasons. In winter their coat is 
lighter, in summer darker and with more brown. 
Black coyotes, while not common, are some- 
times seen, but these are only freaks of nature. 


N' . '■ / 'M 




This is the tale that Betty told 
To the baby brother, as good as gold, 
As he cuddled down with a h'stening air 
In her la[) as she sat in the rocking-chair: 

" There once was a boy who came through 

the gate, 
And he saw by the sun he would surely be 

If away to the school-house he did n't 

So he went like a shot — -and that makes i. 

" Past the old mill-pond, past the old mill, 
Past the old churchyard, a-running still ; 
When out of the churchyard a little dog 

And kept at his heels — and that makes 2. 

" Down to the turnpike, and on to the spring. 
You might almost have thought they were 

birds on the wing. 
And a girl with a book-bag, under a tree, 
She also joined in — and that makes 3. 

"The three, like a whirl of the gustiest wind. 
Left the mill and the sjiring and the tree far 

behind ; 
Then they startled a cow down back of the 

store ; 
She joined the procession — and that makes 4. 

" The girl and the boy and the old moo-cow 
And the little dog barking a bow-wow- 
They all were attacked at a hornet's hive 
By a furious hornet — and that makes 5. 

Vol. XXXI.— 77. 609 

•' Over the field by the shortest way. 
Where the mowers had finished a-harvesting 

And, sure as you live ! at the big hayricks 
They scared up a rabbit — and that makes 6. 

" High in the light clouds sounded a song, 
But it stilled right there as they rushed along, 
And down from the beautiful, beautiful heaven 
Flew a curious flicker — and that makes 7. 

"The seven they passed like a lightning-flash. 
And making the noise of a thunder-crash ; 
The boy and the girl they were sure they 

were late. 
When a lamb came bleating — and that 
makes 8. 

" W'nh a clippety-clop, with a buzz and a moo, 
\Vith the bark of the dog and a bird-note, too. 
On through the glen where the white sands 

Rose a butterfly flapping — and that makes g. 

" Now hurrah for the fun ! They were going so 

That the little red school-house they almost 

had passed. 
When forth stepped the teacher as trig as a 

.\nd called: 'Are n't you earlyl ' — and that 

makes 10." 

" Ten ! " echoed baby, his little blue eyes 
Filled with a far-away faint surprise ; 
Then decision crept into the face of the tot: 

" Ten, Betty Martin ? It makes ten what? " 


Bv John R. Coryell. 

TONNE was not 
by any means the 
least excited per- 
son on the French 
fleet which cast 
anchor in Rafala 
Bay, Madagascar, 
on a certain day 
some three hun- 
dred years ago. Pierre was to go ashore for the 
first time in more than a year. The captain 
had promised that in the morning he would 
accompany the men who were going to look 
for fresh water. 

The next morning, with his beloved blunder- 
buss borne upon his shoulder, Pierre stepped 
proudly on the beach, ready and anxious to 
meet the savage men and curious wild beasts 
he felt sure he was going to see. 

Shortly before dinner-time it was proposed 
that some of the sailors should try to shoot a 
few of the birds of which the forest seemed 
full ; for fresh meat to a sailor is one of the 
greatest of luxuries, and it seemed a pity to 
do without it when it was directly at hand. 
Here was an opportunity which Pierre did not 
let pass. He entreated his commanding officer 
so earnestly to let him be one of the shooting- 
party that consent was given. 

Pierre, blunderbuss in hand, and three sailors 
started for the forest. 

An hour later, the three men hurried down 
to the beach laden with game, but without 
Pierre. Where he was they did not know ; 
they had missed him more than half an hour 
before, and supposed he had returned to the 

" Here he is now," suddenly exclaimed one 
of the men. 

And there indeed he was, hatless and in 
haste. As quickly as his short legs could carry 

him Ije was tearing through the underbrush ; 
and as he drew nearer the men on the beach 
could see that he was frightened. 

When he reached the alarmed sailors, he 
sank, panting and exhausted, on the sand. To 
all their hurried questions he could only gasp 
out, "After me!" and point to the forest. 
Whereupon they all gathered eagerly about 
him to hear his story. 

" After we had gone about two miles into 
the forest," he began, " I left the others, be- 
cause I thought we would see more game in 
two parties than in one. 

" A little while after I had left them I saw 
what looked like a large round white stone 
in the thick brush. I thought I might as well 
find out what it was, and made my way to it, 
and, I give you my word, it was a great big 
egg— almost as big as a tar-bucket. I made up 
my mind to carry it back to the ship to take 
home, though it was heavy ; but while I stood 
with it in my arms, brushing off the dirt that 
was on the under side, I heard a rustling in the 
bushes, and then I thought there must have 
been a big bird to lay that enormous egg, and 
then I shook so that I nearly dropped the egg. 

" I got behind a tree near by and stooped 
down so that 1 could see through the bushes 
what kind of a bird was coming. 

" I never saw such a thing in my life before! 
Maybe you vi'on't believe me, but that bird 
made so much noise as it came through the 
bushes that I thought it was a herd of cattle. 
And when it came to where I could see it, 
each of its legs looked as big round as my 
leg, and it was as tall as a small tree. And 
such a beak as it had! 

"It went directly to the spot where the egg 
had been, and then I was frightened, for I knew 
if it caught me with the egg I 'd be eaten up 
in a minute. But I did n't dare to move. 
When the monstrous creature missed the egg, 



it set up an awful squawk. Then I dropped the 
egg and ran in the direction that seemed clear- 
est of trees. 

" The bird ran, too, for I could hear it crash- 
ing through the bushes, and I e.xpected every 
minute to be taken in its big mouth. By and 
by I could n't run any more, and fell down, 
when five big birds similar to the one I had al- 
ready seen came leaping along straight at me. 

" I lifted my gun, but before I could shoot, 
the first bird had run over me and knocked me 

" I jumped up and ran, and I did n't stop 
running till 1 fount! you, anil here I am." 

At this the sailors laughed. 

As long as Pierre lived he was known as Big- 
Bird Pierre, for he could get nobody to believe 
him. Since his time, however, more has been 
learned of Madagascar, the island where Pierre 
landed ; and though nobody has seen a living 
bird such as Pierre described, eggs and skele- 
tons of the birds have been found, and, judging 
from them, it is no wonder that the little French 
boy was frightened. 

The egg is larger than a football, and would, 
it is calculated, hold as much as one hundred 
and si.xty hens' eggs. As for the bird, it was 
of the same family as the ostrich, but was more 

' m 


" Is that all? " asked one of the men, sar- 
castically, when Pierre had ceased speaking. 

" Yes," answered the boy. 

" Well," said the man, " if 1 were going to 
make up a yarn I 'd try to have it reasonable, 
or end in something exciting." 

"But I did n't make it up!" exclaimed 
Pierre, indignantly. 

" All I 'm sorry for," said one of the men, 
" is that he did n't bring the egg with him. It 
would have made such a rare omelet." 


than twice as tall and proportionately heavier, 
so that, towering as it did a man's height above 
the tallest elephant, it must have been a start- 
ling bird to see for the first time unexpectedly. 
The aepyornis, as the bird is called, does not 
e.xist now, but Mr. Wallace, the great naturalist, 
thinks that all the indications are that it may 
have lived within the last two centuries. 


By Nora Archibald Smith. 

IS the very first " day 
of the hare " 
In Wasa, the prov- 
nce of Kishu, 
And the breezes that 
sweep through the town 
Depart all a-ripple with laugh- 
ter — 
With light-hearted, musical 

The month is the tenth in Japan, 

In Wasa, the province of Kishu, 
And the leaves of the bamboo are stirred, 

.And the sugar-cane trembles with laughter — 
With rustle and tinkle of laughter. 

The brown baby smiles in his sleep. 

In Wasa, the province of Kishu; 
While the fathers ha-ha at their work, 

The mothers' lips bubble with laughter — 
With honey-sweet, mellow-toned laughter. 

Shall I tell }0u why mirth is abroad 
In Wasa, the province of Kishu ? 
Why the owls in the deep, gloomy shade, 

And the toad in his hole, shake with laughter- 
With silver-shrill, jubilant laughter? 

Listen all who listen can, 
And hear this tale of old Japan! 
Ages ago the thing befell, 
But people still the story tell. 

'T was in the misty long-ago. 

Ere yet this gray old earth 
Had grown too staid and sober 
To indulge o'ermuch in mirth. 
To the sacred shrines 
of Ise, 
Where Izumo's 
walls appear 
Purple-clad, the gods 
In the tenth month 
every year. 
All affairs of love and 
In the whole land 
of Japan 
There were mooted, 
On a wise celestial 

At the first one of these meetings. 

Having half forgot the date. 
When the grand debate was over 

Certain gods arrived too late ! 
Sympathy nor pity gave they — 

Brother gods in parlia- 
ment — 
'V Ridiculed the tardy com- 
/ Every one on laughing 


Since that time in all the district, 

On the " first day of the hare," 
Ancient men and toddling children 
Unto Ise's shrines repair. 
Journey ended, all the graybeards 
Face the curious, wond'ring throng : 
" Laugh, ye bright-eyes! Laugh, ye sweet-lips 



^^HE^ ' '^^^^^^H^^^^^^^HHH 

L^^lJ^ J 








^ MfsiL^^^S^^^ 



^bs^^^^^^^^^^^M^ ^^^^K^BIKv 







Laugh and jest the whole day long ! " 
Ready smiles break out in answer 

On each satin, dusky cheek ; 
Hands are clajiping, feet are dancing, 

Dim[)les playing hide-and-seek. 

Laughing hear the feathered people, 
Laughs the sun as he looks down, 

And, the sweet contagion spreading, 
Laughter rings through all the 



Bv Rev. Charles M. Sheldon. 

{Author of " In His Steps.") 

The stage curtain had gone up, and tlie 
impatient audience, packed closely into the 
little theater of San Benito, was growing clam- 
orous. It had come to be amused by the great 
prestidigitator, M. Truchette, and it had waited 
now full ten minutes and no appearance of the 
great magician. An Italian audience is fre- 
quently a restless one. This one had lost pa- 
tience. There on the stage was the apparatus 
of the master— the famous table, the mysterious 
curtain, and various devices for astonishing 
the unlearned. But monsieur himself did not 
make his appearance, and the people were be- 
ginning to grow abusive of the theater-man- 
ager, M. Truchette, his assistants, and even the 
innocent little orchestra tooting and scraping 
away to fill up the time, and growing nervous 
at the murmurs of discontent on every side. 

But if the audience could have gone behind 
the scenes it would have been satisfied with 
the sight of a very eflfective little tableau. 
Upon a faded green settee lay the famous per- 
former, while near by stood a youth of a very 
fair countenance and a very determined look. 
He was evidently dressed for the performance, 
and his appearance was exceedingly pleasing. 
Near the stage e.xit of the room stood a ner- 
vous little man, evidently the stage-manager. 
His hand grasped the tasseled curtain near the 
head of the couch where M. Truchette was 
lying. He was remonstrating with him in a 

quiet but imperious tone. "The performance 
must go forward, monsieur. If the lad can 
take your place, as he says he is able to do, 
why not let him! He can but fail. The peo- 
ple will not be silent much longer. Hark! 
They begin to call out already. Do you re- 
member that night in Christmas week, when 
the first tenor was unable to sing at the great 
jubilee in this very place ? The people rushed 
upon the stage and tore down all my best 
pieces. Ah! It was an irreparable damage." 
.And the little manager shrugged his shoulders 

The man on the couch tried to raise his 
head, but groaned and fell back. With great 
difficulty he gasped : " He — but he is only a 
lad! He cannot do anything !" 

" You forget, M. Truchette. I am eighteen 
vears old. I have learned many things. I 
will do my best. I will not try to take your 
place. I will only pacify the audience." 

"Ah, well, go! I expect the audience will 
mob us both. Ah! The pain in my eyes 
again ! " And the artist sank back and seemed 
to have fainted. 

" Go on and do what you can, young man," 
said the proprietor of the theater. " I will see 
to M. Truchette. Do you keep those childish 
people quiet. At least," he added, with a 
grim smile, "give them something to nibble 
on, for they are growing hungry indeed." 



The noise in front of the curtain was swell- 
ing into a roar when the youth stepped from 
the room. He advanced slowly and with dig- 
nity to the footlights, and made an impressive 
bow. The audience was in a bad humor, but 
there was a moment's hush, and the young 
man instantly took advantage of it. 

" Ladies and gentlemen : I regret to say that 
M. Truchette has been suddenly seized with a 
blind headache and will be unable to appear 
before you to-night. I am Rudolph Cluny, 
his assistant. And by permission of monsieur 
I will do my best to amuse you this evening, 
begging you to e.xcuse any slight mistakes I 
may make owing to the absence of any assis- 

There was something so frank and winsome 
about this speech that many of the audience 
regained their good nature. But there were 
loud cries from different parts of the house. 
"Truchette! Truchette! This is one of his 
tricks! This is but a lad! He cannot do the 
feats of monsieur! " 

Rudolph saw that his slight hold of the audi- 
ence would be gone in a moment unless he 
did something to arrest attention. He knew 
enough about audiences to know that once out 
of the grasp of the artist it is well nigh impos- 
sible to get them back again. He immedi- 
ately determined on his course of action. His 
stay of two years with his master as assistant 
had given him a good command of the regular 
stage jargon common to jugglers. And being 
exceedingly observant, he had learned many 
things of which monsieur himself was ignorant, 
and had even practised some new tricks of his 
own. He was bold and was determined to 
succeed. And across his vision there flitted to 
inspire him the little mother and the sister in 
the vale of Camprais for whom he was serving 
monsieur, and whom he hoped before long to 
visit when he had earned a little more. 

He ran his fingers through his curly hair 
and began to laugh. The cries of the audi- 
ence ceased, and very soon the people began 
to laugh, too, Rudolph's laugh was so conta- 
gious. In the midst of it all Rudolph raised 
his hand and pointed to the ceiling of the theater. 
Instantly every eye was turned that way. 

" See ! " cried Rudolph. " See the messen- 

gers of Cupid on their way, coming down to 
earth to bring a missive to the fairest lady in 
San Benito I " 

It was a common trick of the master jug- 
gler, but it happened to be new to the people 
of San Benito. A pair of snow-white doves 
appeared to fly down from the very center of 
the theater dome. They alighted upon Ru- 
dolph's shoulders. In the bill of one of the 
birds was a bit of paper. Rudolph took it, 
unfolded it and pretended to read as follows : 

" This to the fairest in San Benito. 

" Cupid sends thee greeting, wisliing thee beauty 
and happiness many years, and assures thee that thy 
beauty will fade and thy happiness vanish if thou dost 
frown upon him who is specially favored of the gods, 
" Rudolph Ci.unv of Camprais." 

There was a moment's quiet from the audi- 
ence, and then the generous applause that fol- 
lowed assured Rudolph that his first attempt 
had given him favor with the fickle people. 
He smiled and grew confident. The bird 
trick, seemingly so impossible, was in reality 
very simple. The doves were well-trained pets 
of M. Truchette. Rudolph had come upon 
the stage with the birds concealed in one of 
Xhtpro/onties, or deep pockets, of his dress-coat. 
When he pointed to the ceiling of the theater, 
and every eye in the audience was directed to 
it, he drew the birds from the profortde and 
tossed them up into the air. They soared up 
a little higher and then settled back upon the 
young man's shoulders. Every one is familiar 
with the fact that the eye is easily deceived as 
to distances. To the audience it appeared as 
if the birds actually came down from the dome. 
The light was dim up there, and at any rate 
there the birds were, and they did fly from 
somewhere and alight on the lad's shoulders. 
As for the letter, Rudolph simply by a rapid 
movement, as he caressed one bird, placed a 
bit of paper within its bill. And the rest was 
easy, as every stage juggler is provided with 
plenty to say, speeches of flattery or nonsense, 
just to divert the audience as much as possible 
from the movements of the hands. 

Over the audience went that rustle of ex- 
pectation so dear to the ^oul of every actor, 
that sharp but still sound, caused by the sud- 




den catching of breath on the part of many 
people. Rudolph, with the sensitive acuteness 
of the true artist, heard and interpreted the 
■sound to mean an interest on the part of the 
audience that would increase with the success 
of his performances. He felt proud to think 
that he was succeeding so well at the start and 
proceeded with his next trick with a jubilant 
feeling in his heart. 

This was the " Mysterious Table," on which 
he placed a basket of oranges which, after be- 
ing covered with a silken cloth, were trans- 
formed to vases of fresh-cut roses. The trick 
succeeded perfectly, as did also the " Mysteri- 
ous Curtain," another favorite trick of his clever 
master. The trick was witnessed by the sim- 
ple but sharp-eyed people of San Benito with 
feelings of astonishment, and loud cries of 
" Bravo! " greeted the youthful performer, who 
bowed his acknowledgments and felt very 
happy as he proceeded with his next attempt, 
the " Magic Painting." 

This was also entirely new to the people of 
Sau Benito, who were beginning to have an 
admiration for this young man from Camprais. 
They watched the performance with great 
eagerness. While Rudolph, who had never 
before attempted the magic painting alone, de- 
termined that come what might he would suc- 
ceed with it. But alas ! Who can anticipate 
all the possibilities which await one in that 
difficult game of legerdemain. 

A gilt frame, four feet square, resting upon 
an easel, had been standing upon the stage 
during the performance. Rudolph now placed 
it upon a small platform which he brought out 
from behind the scenes, saying as he did so, 
that he wanted everybody to see the most 
wonderful painting in all Europe, or, for that 
matter, in the world. 

Within the picture-frame was a piece of 
blank canvas, or what appeared to be this. 
Rudolph now walked deliberately to the side 
of the stage and waved his wand. The people 
looked on in breathless anticipation. Slowly 
the outlmes of a landscape began to be visible 
on the canvas. Then they disappeared, and 
Rudolph turned pale, and for the first time in 
the evening seemed disconcerted. The trick 
had failed, and owmg to the peculiar way in 

which it was performed by the master, Rudolph 
was uncertain concerning the next movement. 
He hesitated, and for a moment he was so 
confused that he could not think of anything to 
do or say in order to cover his failure. 

That hesitation was fatal to him. The fickle 
audience began to hiss. Rudolph stretched 
out his arm with a gesture of beseeching ap- 
peal. It was too late. The people began to 
raise the cry, "Truchette! Truchette!" 

Rudolph stepped to the footlights and tried 
to pacify them. At that instant the little man- 
ager also appeared and added his voice to that 
of the young performer. But the sight of the 
manager seemed to arouse the audience rather 
than quiet it. He was very unpopular with 
some of the leading citizens of San Benito. 
And instantly a cry arose against him. 

" Bring out Truchette ! Make good the 
performance ! Bah ! The lad cannot repay 
us for coming ! " were the cries of many. In 
vain the manager protested that monsieur was 
ill and unable to appear. In vain Rudolph 
begged the people to have patience and he 
would show them wonders. The people were 
not to be appeased. 

Just then a cry of " Fire ! " was heard. 

The little theater was surrounded by build- 
ings, and its entrance was small and insuffi- 
cient. It had been condemned by the in- 
spectors, but nothing had been done to remedy 
the matter. It was this, for one thing, that 
had made the people of San Benito indignant 
at the theater-manager. That cry of fire raised 
a panic. The people turned and made a 
frantic rush for the doors. Women shrieked, 
and men howled like wild beasts as they tram- 
pled one another. It was at that moment that 
Rudolph Cluny regained his composure and 
saw that unless the panic was arrested, a hor- 
rible disaster would befall the people. 

He had a very sweet voice, and at once he 
began to sing one of the popular ballads of 
the day in a tone so tender and expressive that 
the people stopped. It is a well-known fact 
that singing can be heard much farther than a 
shout or an ordinary call of the human voice. 
And this plaintive song rising from the soul of 
the slender lad upon the stage was so thrilling 
in its fearless courage and quiet repose that it 



had the effect of stopping the mad rush for tlie 
doors. The lad finished one stanza of the 
song and began the second, and the song 
seemed to have an enchantment for the music- 
loving Itahans. They actually applauded the 


singer when tlie last note died away. Again 
Rudolph instantly seized the opportunity. He 
spoke clear and strong : 

" Ladies and gentlemen, it is the rear of the 
theater which is in flames. See the smoke 
coming toward me from the back? The front 
is open and untouched. There is plenty of 

Vol. XXXI.— 78. 

time to escape if you go out as usual. Behold 
me! I will remain here until you are all safely 

The people shouted " Bravo !" and began to 
go out, but without any panic. The theater had 
indeed caught fire at 
the extreme rear. The 
flames burned with ex- 
traordinary rapidity. 
Rudolph could see 
them bursting through 
the scenes at liis left. 
Before all the people 
were out of the theater, 
the smoke rolled in bil- 
lows across the stage 
and a burning piece of 
wood was blown to 
Rudolph's feet. He 
leaped down to make 
his way out. 15ut ere 
he had groped his way 
through the orchestra 
circle, already blitided 
by the smoke which 
filled the little audi- 
torium, there flashed 
into his mind the fact 
that M. Truchette lay 
asleep or perhaps suf- 
focating in the little 
room at the right of the 
stage ! He had been 
forgotten by every- 

Rudolph did not 

hesitate a moment. 

He leaped up again 

and crawled on his 

hands and knees across 

the stage toward the 

entrance of the little 

room where monsieur 

had been left. The heat and smoke were terrible. 

He felt burning brands drop on him. Twice his 

hair caught fire. He extinguished the frames 

with his hands and still crept on. The door 

of the little room was open. He rose to his 

feet and rushed in. He could not see. He 

could only feel. Yes, monsieur was still on the 





couch. Whether dead or suffocating he could him with everything in their jiower. They 

not tell. He caught him up and staggered out were not ungrateful. A medal was struck 

across the stage. The stage was in flames. Ru- off, commemorating the event, and Rudolph 

dolph rushed through them, and with the bur- proudly wore it home ; and the little mother 

den in his arms again descended to the orches- 
tra circle. It was a terrible moment to him. 
The entire building seemed aflame, so rapidly 
had the fire spread. But at last he reached the 
<loors. He rushed out. .Ah ! How sweet the 

and sister in the vale of Camprais wept glad 
tears over the dear lad who had done so much 
to honor them. 

M. Truchette was not unmindful of his for- 
mer assistant, and gave him encouragement to 

air and the ct)ol night ! And how the people study music and develop his voice, which a 

shouted when he appeared with his burden ! noted master declared to be well worth the 

He fell fainting, but strong arms raised him and instruction. And several years later Rudoljjh 

bore him to a place of safety, while the theater of C'luny was singing the ballads of the country to 

San Benito roared in the embrace of the fiery ele- delighted audiences in Europe. He grew to be 

ment as if enraged at the escape of its prisoners, a tall, handsome man. And, better than all, he 

When Rudolph recovered from his burns, was brave and good. And he always wore 

which were serious and at one time threatened the medal given him by the fickle but gener- 

to be fatal, the i)eople of San ISenito honored ous people of San Benito. 

Note liV thk Author.— This story was related to nie by an Italian huly wlio was present at the scene of 
the performance in the little theater. Rudolph Cluny is a real being of flesh and blood, although he is known by 
another name. The story has never until now been made public in this country. C. M. S. 


Bv M. M. I). 

Dear little Marjoric Boulton, 

Sweet little lady mine ! 
One of earth's blitliesome fairies, 

Alert in the glad sunshine. 

Well may the grateful blossoms 
Nestle and thrive in ihy clasp, 

And hearts grow warm and tender 
At the thought of thy gentle grasp. 

So, little Marjorie Boulton, 

We 'II gaze on the picture awhile. 

Quite sure that the face in a moment 
Will brightly respond with a smile! 


By S. D. V. Burr. 

quick job, but 

The Black Hawk was built last year and 
paddled and sailed all summer by a boy of 
fifteen, who did not spare the boat in any way, 
and it now lies in dry-dock (down the cellar) 
for the winter, safe and sound in every stick. 
This summer it vvill be sandpapered, painted, 
and put in commission again. 

There are two ways of building a canoe : one 
is to get a plank for a keelson, a couple of strips 
for the gunwales, any old wooden barrel hoop^i 
for ribs, tack on the canvas, and there you 
are. This certainly makes a 
the result is a thing horrible 
to look at, and which will sure- 
ly be thrown away unless the 
owner can find a more foolish 
boy who will pay him fifty 
cents for the outfit. 

The next way is to build the 
boat in accordance with a plan, 
knowing beforehand just what 
you are going to do, and hav- 
ing in your mind a clear pic- 
ture of what the boat will look 
like when finished. This is not 
only the best method but the 
easiest, and is sure to produce a craft of which 
you will never be ashamed, either for its looks 
or its sailing qualities. Perhaps it will seem that 
this last plan is slow, because it is necessary to 
do a little work before the actual buikling be- 

gins ; but it is really quick, since, when once 
started on the frame, things go with a rush. 

The Black Hawk, however, is a regular In- 
dian canoe model, with raised stem and stern, 
bulging sides, and fiat bottom. It is 1 1 J.^ feet 
long, 12 inches deep, 24 inches wide at the gun- 
wales at the center, and 28 inches in the widest 
part at the center. The bow is curved, while 
the stern is straight to carry the rudder. 

The keelson is of .spruce 4 inches wide by i 
inch thick and 10 feet long. At each end this 
is recessed to receive the stem and stern posts. 


which are held in place by brass screws. 1 he 
stem piece (Fig. i) is made of 1 'a -inch plank, 
properly curved at its forward edge, which is 
beveled each side to make the edge i< inch 
thick. Along this edge the canvas is afterward 

f W7^\ 

~Tna ^ * tn ~ ■' — wj~ 


FIG. 2. 




£ I.each, 6 ft. 3 in. 
Dimensions of the ntiz/cn-sjil: < Yard, 6 ft. 

( Boom, 4 ft. 3 in. 
FIG. 9. 

12 4 





tacked. Both bow and stern posts are braced 
to the keelson as indicated in the drawings. 
Each end of each gunwale (they are made of 
2/^ by 1^ inch spruce) is planed off so as to fit 
nicely against the posts, and is held by screws. 
The same course is afterward followed with the 
longitudinal or lengthwise strips. 

We are now ready to make the three mold- 
boards which govern the cross-section, and 
upon which depend the lines of the boat (Figs. 
2 and 3). One of these (Fig. 2) is placed at 
the center, while the other two (Fig. 3) are 
placed one at 28 inches " forward " and one 28 
inches " aft " of this center mold-board. The 
two end mold-boards are of the same size. All 
of these are made with notches to receive the 
gunwales and keelson, which are only lightly 
nailed in place, as the boards are, of course, to 
be removed finally. A permanent cross-rib and 
braces are shown in Fig. 4. This is to be in- 
serted after the temporary mold-board (Fig. 2) 
is removed. The frame is now m shape, with 
the keelson, gunwales, and posts in position, 
and is ready to receive the longitudinal strips. 

These strips can be made of spruce. The 
longest are 12 feet. They should he ij{ inches 
wide by -^ inch thick. The best and cheapest 

^" [«ii ■■iiniiii 

'« ii ■ ■ i M ■ .1 ■ H I ■ ■ .> -: a 

"""* ■*'^- " """ " f W '»■ ■^ T «» ■ ■ ■ i t ^ - wf - 

!■■■ -iJHIl^'" 





way to get them is to pick out a plank free from 
knots and of the required thickness, and have this 
sawed into strips at the mill. Better get twenty 
of these. The ends of these are beveled and 
nailed permanently to the [losts. Be careful 
not to nail these strips to the mold-boards, 
which, as has been said, are later to be removed. 
CJne strip is placed along the keel and si.\ on 
each side. Since these ribs govern the outside 
appearance of the boat after the canvas has 
been put on, it is of the greatest importance 

frame. The longer ones are selected for the 
center, the shorter ones being used near the ends. 
They are soaked in a bath-tub full of hot wa- 
ter, after which they can be bent to the de- 
sired shape. 

In placing the ribs it is best to work from the 
center, one rib at a time, alternately toward the 
stem and stern. The ribs are first nailed to the 
keelson, and are then tacked to each of the long 
stri|)s. This should be done with copi^er tacks, 
from the inside, long enough to pass through 


to have both sides of exactly the same curva- 
ture. By turning the frame upside down and 
standing at one end, any irregularity can be 
seen and remedied. First-class cross-ribs, to 
be found everywhere, can be made of sugar- 
barrel hoops. This wood is strong and tough, 
easily worked and easily bent. These hoops 
should be dressed down to J{( or i inch wide 
by }{ inch thick. They are now to be bent to 
the cross-section of the boat, in order to fit 
within the lengthwise strips already in the 

both pieces and be clenched on the outside. The 
only reason for nailing from the inside is that it 
makes a better appearance to have the heads in- 
side, rather than the clenched ends. The ends of 
the ribs must be firmly secured to the gunwales, as 
these ribs form their only support, and are under 
great strain when the sail is full, and the captain 
is sitting on one gunwale, with his toes under the 
other, and " hiking " out to keep the canoe on a 
level keel. In the Black Hawk a strip of soft, 
t!iin brass was carried along the gunwale over 




the ends of the ribs. It was nailed at each 
side of each end of each rib, these nails going 
through the gunwale and clenching upon the 

should be No. lo duck, 52 inches wide and la 
feet long. It is tacked along the keelson for 
about 5 feet ; then, beginning at the center, it 
is hauled over the gunwale upon each side and 

To form the upward curve at each end, four tacked about half-way down the inside face of 
pieces of JvJ-inch pine plank are cut to the the gunwale. This work must go along evenly 


proper curve (a, in Figs, i and 5). These are 
nailed to the posts, and are held to the gun- 
wales by vertical cleats nailed over the joints. 
A brace is placed between the gunwales, 28 
inches from each end. This not only strength- 
ens the frame, but also forms the support for 
the mast, as shown in Fig. 6. This, in addition, 
receives the deck strips, which are afterward 
covered with canvas. 

The mainmast step is made of a piece of brass 
tubing 2 inches in diameter by 4 inches high 
{Fig. 7). This is cut quartering for 2 inches, and 
these parts are bent outward at right angles to 
form a spider. This is screwed to the keelson 
by four brass screws. The same course is 
followed with the mizzenmast, which need be 
only ij4 inches in diameter at the bottom. 

We are now ready for the canvas. This 

upon each side. At about 2j4 or ^ feet each 
side of the center it becomes necessary to split 
the canvas along the keel and take out a gore 
|)iece, in order that the cloth may be taken 
around the ends without wrinkling. If this 
work is carefully done the surface should be 
perfectly smooth. Where the duck is split 
the edge of one piece is tacked to the frame, 
then the joint is covered with white lead, and 
the other edge pulled over and tacked on top. 
There is no danger of a joint made in this way 
ever leaking, for the tacking presses the outer 
layer of canvas in the closest contact with the 
white lead, which, in a measure, acts as a water- 
proof cement. 

A keel of i hy ij4 inch spruce is then 
screwed on the bottom, extending from the 
end of the curve at the bow to the stern post ; 




the forward end of the keel is beveled to meet 
the bevel of the curved bow. The keel is then 
screwed on. This is then covered with a brass 
strip, which is extended around the cutwater. 
This protects the bottom when dragging the 
canoe over the ground. 

In sailing it will be found necessary to be pro- 
vided with a deep detachable keel. A sketch 
of this with its dimensions is shown in Fig. 8. 
Four springs, made of a bed-spring and shaped 
as shown, are secured to each side of the keel- 
board by copper staples. At each side of the 
permanent keel are four brass screws so placed 
that the springs pass over them and hold the 
board in place, and yet, by pulling the keel 
toward the bow, it can easily be removed when 

The first coat of paint on the canvas which 
now completely covers the outside of the canoe, 
with the exception of the keel, should be a 
first-class mixed while lead. The duck is first 
thoroughly wetted and the paint then laid on, 
on the outside only. Not so much paint will 
be needed if the canvas is wet, and by using 
white paint for a first coat the boat will not 
be disfigured upon the inside by any paint that 
may strike through, for the paint is almost sure 
to do this. After this has thoroughly dried, it 
is rubbed down witli coarse sandpaper and the 
final coat of yacht black put on. 

Fig. 9 gives the dimensions and shape of the 
sails, which are of the ordinary lateen pattern. 
A good quality of heavy muslin with double 
seams will answer the purpose. 

The rudder-blade (Fig. 10) is made of a ^-inch 
spruce board, let into a i J^-inch square stick. 
Inthe rudder are insertedtwo brass screw-eyes, 10 
inches apart. Two similar screw-eyes the same 
distance apart are put in the stern post. A 
brass rod (fastened to the boat with a short 

chain in order to prevent its being lost) is passed 
through all the eyes. 

The tiller-rope extends through screw-eyes 
on the inside of the gunwales to a pulley-block 
at the bow, so that the rudder can be handled 
no matter at what place in the canoe the boy 
may be. Three jam cleats for fastening the 
sheets are conveniently placed along the gun- 
wales on both sides. 

Do not use any iron in any part of the boat ; 
use brass screws and screw-eyes and copper 
tacks and nails. To do this costs a little more, 
but there is no danger of an important joint 
giving way through rust, for water is bound to 
get in the boat, either from the rain or from 
shipping it over the sides. 

The descriptions and the diagrams given in 
this article have avoided, as far as possible, going 
into minute details, for the reason that such de- 
tails often confuse any but a trained mechanic. 
It is expected that the photographs of the fin- 
ished boat will furnish to the boy canoe-builder 
the information intentionally omitted in the de- 
scrijjtions. The main purpose of this article is 
to start the boy right in the essential part of 
the work, and then let him exercise his own in- 
genuity in the matter of finish. 

The expense account should not exceed the 
following : 

Wood $ 2.75 

Copper tacks and nails 60 

Brass screws and screw-eyes 60 

Gromets for sails 15 

Fittings, galvanized . . 2.00 

Sail-sticks, spruce .75 

Canvas 2. 20 

Muslin for sails 1.30 

Paint 1.75 

Rope 70 


Vol. XXXI.— 79. 







By Katharine Pyle. 






Now all the little toys are going to sleep, 



The dolls and Noah's Ark and old tin sheep, 



The music-box, the marbles, and the kite : 



The curtains have been drawn, and it is night. 



They do not wish to play ; they talk no more : 
Put them away and close the cupboard door. 


Pa— ^ -^Sm 


When the little children 

Are all asleep in bed, 
Comes old Tommy Toyman, 

With his noiseless tread. 

No one sees him coming, 
Creeping up the stairs. 

In the tasseled nightcap 
That he always wears. 

A pair of great round spectacles 
He has upon his nose. 

And straight up to the nursery 
And to the toys he goes. 

When old Tommy Toyman 

Finds the litde toys 
Torn and scratched and broken 

By careless girls and boys. 

He sends each one bad dreams, 
To dance above their heads ; 

So all night they see them, 
M'hirling round their beds. 

But when Tommy Toyman 

Finds that, after play. 
The toys are all in order. 

And neatly put away, 

Then puff! he blows the good dreams^ 
. Like bubbles, shining bright. 
To float above the children's heads 
And round their beds all night : 

That 's what Tommy Toyman 

Does, I 've heard it said, 
When the little children 

Are all asleep in bed. 


By Carolyn Wells. 

Just once, in far-off Labrador, the sun gave 

wanning rays. 
And this excited Eskimo exclaimed in great 

amaze : 
"Though all my life I 've known the cold, 

and ice, and freezing storm, 
I never knew the sun could shine enough to 

make one luarm .' " 

Another day, on desert sands, 

the rain came pouring 

And this affrighted African 

cried, with a fearful 

frown : 
■All my life long I 've known 

the heat and burning sun, 

but yet 
I never knew the rain could 

fall enough to make one 

wet / " 




By Kate Baldwin Robertson. 

Miss Pussy and Towser and Neddy, all three, 
Were sure that their singing was sweet as could be. 
" What a pity," they said, " that the world cannot hear 
The sound of our voices so sweet and so clear ! " 

Then Neddy suggested, with no litde pride, 
'What say you, my friends, if a concert we tried?" 
Soon tickets were issued, a hundred or more. 
And the evening appointed brought crowds to the door. 

Miss Pussy appeared in a dress of bright green. 
Quite pleased with herself — that was plain to be seen. 
Then Towser began with a Bow-wow-ivnv-wow, 
And Pussy chimed in with a thrilling Afe-ow. 



The audience looked troubled, and cried, "This won't do! 
This concert is scarcely worth listening to." 
Just then Mr. Neddy gave i forth his best bray; 

It startled the audience, and 

they all ran away. 

Our trio to blows I 'm afraid almost came; 

Puss stoutly iflaintained Ned was chiefly to blame; 

She scolded the poor chaj), and Towser did, too, 

And then off the stage all ^^^^ three of them flew. 

Straight back to their home I'uss and Towser did run. 
While Ned soon found thistles than singing more fun ; 
I fancy they '11 now be content to remain 
In their own humble s])here, nor try concerts again. 


By Amy B. Johnson. 

'VE been crying again, 

" Have you, sweet- 
heart ? I 'm sorry." 
" Father." 
" Yes, dading." 
" I don't hke Holland 
at all. I wish we had 
stayed in New York. 
And I would much ra- 
ther stay in Amsterdam 
with you to-day than to 
go and see those horrid 
little Dutch children. 
I 'm sure I shall hate 
them all." 

" But how about Ma- 
rie ? You want to see 
her, don't you ? " 
" No. I 'm very much 
annoyed with Marie. I don't see why she 
could not have been contented in New York. 
After taking care of me ever since I was a baby, 
she must like me better than those nieces and 
nephews she never saw till yesterday." 

" I am sure Marie loves you very dearly, 
Katharine, but you are getting to be such a big 
girl now that you no longer need a nurse, and 
Marie was homesick. She wished to come 
back to Holland years ago, but I persuaded 

her to stay till you were old enough to do with- 
out her, and until Aunt Katharine was ready 
to come to New York and live with us, promis- 
ing her that when that time came you and I 
would come over with her, just as we have done, 
on our way to Paris. We must not be selfish 
and grudge Marie to her sisters, who have not 
seen her for twelve years." 

" I am homesick now, too, father. 1 was so 
happy in New York with my dolls — and you 
— and Marie — and — " 

"So you shall be again, darling; in a few 
months we will go back, taking dear Aunt 
Katharine with us frorn Paris, and you will soon 
love her better than you do Marie." 

Katharine and her father. Colonel Easton, 
were floating along a canal just out of Amster- 
dam, in a trekschuit, or small passenger- 
boat, on their way to the home of one of 
Marie's sisters, two of whom were married and 
settled near one of the dikes of Holland. 
Katharine was to spend the day there with her 
nurse, and make the acquaintance of all the 
nieces and nephews about whom Marie had 
told her so much, while her father was to re- 
turn to Amsterdam, where he had business to 
transact with a friend. They had arrived in 
Holland only the day before, when Marie had 
immediately left them, being anxious to get 
home as soon as possible, after exacting a 




promise from the colonel that Katharine should 
visit her the next clay. 

Katharine felt very sure she would never like 
Holland, as she gazed rather scornfully at the 
curious objects they passed : the queer gay- 
colored boats, the windmills which met the 
eye at every turn, with their great arms waving 
in the air, the busy-looking people, men and 
women, some of the latter knitting as they 
walked, carrying heavy baskets on their backs, 
and all looking so contented and placid. 

" Try and think of the nice day you arc 
going to have with Marie and the children," 

little things, father? Just look at their great 
clumps of shoes — " 

" Yes — kloinpen; that is what they are called, 

"And their baggy clothes and short waists! 
One of them knitting, too 1 Well, I would 
never make such a fright of myself, even if I did 
live in Holland, which I 'm glad I don't." 

By this time they had made the landing. 
Then Katharine and Marie fell into each 
other's arms and cried, gazed at in half-fright- 
ened curiosity by seven small, shy Hollanders, 
and in pitying patience by a very large colonel. 


said the colonel ; " then this evening I will 
come for you, and we will go together to Paris, 
and when you see Aunt Katharine you will be 
perfectly happy. See, we are nearly at the 
landing, and look at that row of little girls 
and boys. I do believe they are looking for 

" Yes ; they must be Marie's sister's children ; 
I know them from the description Marie has 
read me from her letters. Are n't they horrid 

" Au revoir. I will call for Katharine this 
afternoon," called Colonel Easton, when the 
time came for him to go on board again. 

Katharine waved her handkerchief to her fa- 
ther as long as his boat was in sight. 

"See, Miss Katharine," said Marie, — in Dutch 
now, for Katharine understood that language 
very well, Marie having spoken it to her from 
her infancy, — "here is Gretel, and'this is her 
little sister Katrine and her brother Jan. The 



others are their cousins. Come here, Lotten; 
don't be shy. Ludolf, Mayken, Freitje, shake 
hands with my little American girl ; they were 
all eager to come and meet you, dear, so I had 
to bring them." 

Katharine shook hands very soberly with 
the little group, and then walked off beside 
Marie, hearing nothing but the clatter-clatter 
of fourteen wooden shoes behind her. 

Soon they arrived at the cottage, and in a 
moment seven pairs of klompen were ranged in 
a neat row outside a small cottage, while their 
owners all talked at once to two sweet-faced 
women standing in the doorway. These were 
Marie's sisters, whose husbands were out on 
the sea fishing, and who lived close beside 
each other in two tiny cottages exactly alike. 

" Oh," exclaimed Katharine, as, panting and 
breathless, she finally joined the group, " do you 
always take off your shoes before you go into the 
house? " 

" Why, of course," said the children. 

" How funny ! " said Katharine. 

Then Marie, who had been left far behind, 
came up and introduced the little stranger to 
Juffrouw Van Dyne and Juffrouw Boekman, 
who took her into the house, followed by the 
three children who belonged there and the four 
cousins who belonged next door. They took 
off her coat and hat and gave her an arm- 
chair to sit in as she nibbled a tiny piece of 
gingerbread, while large pieces from the same 
loaf disappeared as if by magic among the 
other children. Then Gretel showed to her 
her doll; Jan shyly put into her hand a very 
pretty small model of the boat she had come 
in on that morning ; Lotten offered her a piece 
of Edam cheese, which she took, while pohtely 
declining Mayken's offer to teach her to knit ; 
little Katrine deposited a beautiful white kit- 
ten on her lap; Ludolf showed her a fine pair 
of klompen on which his father was teaching 
him to carve some very pretty figures ; Freitje 
brought all his new fishing-tackle and invited 
her to go fishing with him at the back of the 
house. It was not long before Katharine forgot 
that she was homesick, and grew really interested 
in her surroundings; and later the dinner, con- 
sisting chiefly of fish and rye bread, tasted very 
good to the now hungry Katharine. 

It was after dinner that the tragedy happened. 
The children had all started out for a walk. 
Before they had gone more than a mile from 
the house the fog settled all around them — so 
dense, so thick, blotting out everything, that 
they could not see more than a step ahead. 
They were not frightened, however, as all they 
had to do was to turn round and go straight 
ahead toward home. The children took one an- 
other's hands at Gretel's direction, stretching 
themselves across the road, Katharine, who held 
Gretel's hand, being at one end of the line. 
They walked on slowly along the dike for 
a short time, talking busily, though not able 
to see where they were going, when sud- 
denly Katharine felt her feet slipping. In try- 
ing to steady herself she let go of Gretel, 
gave a wild clutch at the air, and then rolled, 
rolled, right down a steep bank, and, splash ! 
into a pool of water at the bottom. For a mo- 
ment she lay half stunned, not knowing what 
had happened to her ; then, as her sense 
came, " Oh," thought she, " I must be killed, or 
drowned, or something!" She tried to call 
" Gretel," but her voice sounded weak and 
far off, and she could see nothing. Slowly she 
crawled out of the pool, only to plunge, splash! 
into another. She felt, oh, so cold, wet, and 
bruised ! " I must have rolled right down the 
dike," she thought. "If I could find it, I 
might climb up again." She got up and tried 
to walk, but sank to her ankles in water at 
every step. 

She was a little lame from her fall, and soaked 
from head to foot. Her clothes hung around 
her most uncomfortably when she tried to walk. 
But, if she had to crawl on hands and knees, she 
must find the house; so, plunging, tumbling, 
rising again, she crawled in and out of ditches, 
every minute getting more cold and miser- 

But on she went, shivering and sore, every 
moment wandering farther from her friends, 
who were out searching all along the bottom 
of the dike. 

After what seemed to her a long time, she 
came bump up against something hard. She 
did not know what it was, but she could have 
jumped for joy, if her clothes had not been so 
heavy, to hear a voice suddenly call out in 

Vol. XXXI.— 80-81. 





Dutch : •• What 's that ? Who has hit against 
my door ? Ach ! where in the world have you 
come from ? " Then in a considerably milder 
tone: "Ach I the little one! and she is Englisli. 
How did you get here, dear heart ? " 

"I — I — fell down the dike. I have — lost 
— everybody. Oh, how .shall I ever get back 
to father ? " answered Katharine in her very 
poor Dutch. 

•• But tell mc, little one, where you came 
from — ach ! so cold and wet ! " 

" I was spending the day with Marie and 
(iretel — and — Jan — and we were walking 
on the dike when the fog came on ; then I 
fell, and could not find my way — " 

" Gretel and Jan — could they be Juf- 
frouw Van Dyne's children ? " 

'•Yes, yes," eagerly; " that is where 1 was. 
Oh, can you take me back, dear, dear juffrouw ? " 

" Yes, when the fog clears away, my child. 
I could not find the house now ; it is more than 
two miles from here. Besides, you must put off 
these wet clothes; you will get your death of 
cold — poor lambkin." 

.\t this Katharine's sobs broke forth afresh. 
It must be late in the evening now, she thought ; 
her father would come to Marie's and would 
not be able to find her — 

" No, dear child ; it is only four o'clock in the 
afternoon. The fog may clear away very soon, 
and then I will take you back." 

Quickly the wet garments were taken off and 
hung about the stove. Katharine jjresently 
found herself wrapped up in blankets in a great 
arm-chair in front of the fire, a cu.shion at her 
back and another under her feet, drinking some 
nice hot broth, and feeling so warm and com- 
fortable that she fell fast asleep, and awoke two 
hours later to find the room ((uite light, the fog 
almost gone, the juftrouw sitting' beside her 
knitting, and a comfortable-looking cat purring 
noisily at her feet. 

■• 1 think I have been asleep," she said. 

•• I think you have," said Dame Donk. 

Just then a loud knock wa,s heard at the 
door, a head was poked in, then another, and 
still another. The cottage was fast filling uj). 
There stood, first of all, poor, pale, frightened 
Marie, holding a large bundle in her amis, Jan 
with another smaller one, Gretel carrying a 

pair of shoes, and one of the sisters, completely 
filling up the doorway with her ample propor- 
tions, last of all. 

It appears that as .soon as the fog had begun 
to clear, the good Dame Donk had despatched 
a boy from a neighboring cottage to let them 
know where Katharine was, and that her ward- 
robe would need replenishing. 

The excitement on finding the child safe and 
sound may be better iinagined than described. 
How she was kissed, cried, and laughed over, 
what questions were asked and not answered, 
as she was taken into an adjoining room and 
arrayed in a complete suit of Gretel's clothes, 
even to the klompen, for, alas ! her French shoes 
were now in no condition to be worn, the 
pretty blue frock torn and stained and hope- 
lessly wet, the hat with its dainty plume crushed 
and useless; indeed, every article she had worn 
looked only fit for the rag-bag. 

Gretel was so much smaller than Katha- 
rine that the clothes were a very tight fit, the 
skirt which hung round Gretel's ankles reach- 
ing just below Katharine's knees, and it was a 
funny little figure that stepped back into the 
room — no longer a fashionably dressed New 
York maiden, but a golden-haired child of Hol- 
land, even to the blue eyes, sparkling now with 
fun and merriment. 

" But did n't } ()u bring a caj) for me, 
-Marie?" she asked in a grieved tone. 

"Ah, no, deary; I never thought of a cap." 

"Well, you must i>ul one on mc the minute 
we get back." 

" Oh, what will father say ? " she cried de- 
lightedly, as she surveyed herself in the little 

This sobered Marie at once. What would 
" father" say, indeed? \\'ould he not have a 
right to be very angry with her, that she had 
allowed the child to get into such danger ? 

" Where is Katharine ? " asketl the colonel, 
as he stood, tall and commanding, on the thresh- 
old, later that evening, surveying eight small 
Hollanders, looking so much alike, except for 
the difference in their sizes, that they might 
have passed for eight Dutch dolls propi)ed up 
in a row against the wall. ' 

A sudden shriek of laughter, and one of the 


dolls was in his arms, smothering him with 
kisses. Then every one began to talk at once, 
as usual, and it was not until late the next even- 
ing, when he anil Katharine were steaming out 
of Amsterdam, that the colonel was told the 
whole story and for the first time fully under- 
stood all that had happened to his little girl on 
that eventful day. 

Meanwhile the new light in his daughter's 
eyes and the laughter on her lips kept him from 
any desire to inquire too deeply into the reason 


for a certain embarrassed frightened look on the 
faces of the women. 

Before leaving Amsterdam the colonel was 
obliged to purchase a complete suit of Dutch 
garments for Katharine as a memento of this 
visit, and " because they are so pretty, father," 
she said, and " Oh, father, I just love Holland! 
As for those Dutch children, I think they are 
simply the dearest, sweetest things I ever saw, 
and I have promised to write to Gretel as 
soon as ever I get to Paris." 


By Clara F. Berry. 

K children of Holland, that queerest of places, 
Are healthy and happy, with bright little faces. 

You 'II hear them go clattering down on the street 
"With (jueer-looking, quaint wooden shoes on their feet. 

These children are kept just 

as neat as a pin, 
For dirt is considered in 

Holland a sin. 

They play hide-and-seek, fly kites in the air — 
No happier children you 'II find anywhere. 

P and down, by the dikes, they 
will skate like the wind ; 
In games and amusements 
they 're never behind. 

Thev 've dolls, tops, and mar- 
bles, and all sorts of toys. 
And the girls are as sturdy and gay as the boys. 

They keep at their tasks till the work is all done ; 
Then they sport and they frolic in jolliest fun. 

What matter Dutch costumes or Yankee togs, pray, 
When young lads and lassies are ready for play ? 


»> 311 


By Mary Evelyn Thomas. 

They were' walking on the terrace, 

Mama and little Fred ; 
There they met a stately peacock, 

His gorgeous tail outspread. 

As they step])cd out of the pathway, 

To give His Highness room, 
' Oh, look ! " cried Fred, astonished, 
" The peacock is in bloom ! " 

\ ; (^ 

/ /} \'y<:. 








B\ George Frederick Welsford. 

" IV^i^L yon draw me soiiieihiiig, papa ? " 

" Yes, my boy. What shall it be ? " 
" / 7oa>it an owl and a piggy — 
The owl up in a tree. 

" And then I ivatit a donkey. 

And then —" " JIWl, that rvill do : 
We must have the rest to-tnorrow" — 
That is ho7i' this story greic. 

\ J ; 


To the little pig that cried wee.' ivee : 
Strange things befell, as we shall see ; 
For Piggy was lost, when he met an owl 
And asked his way of that wise old fowl. 

Now this owl was a mischievous bird, you 

With a heart as black as the blackest crow. 
He winked his eye, and he snapped his bill. 
As he thought how to serve poor Piggy ill. 

He first sent Piggy, when he asked his way. 
To a silly old donkey — to lead him astray. 
The donkey, when found, was having his tea. 
Which he .shared with our Piggy, as here 
you will see. 

But as to the way that Piggy should go, 
That stupid old donkey did not know. 
So, after tea, they got in a boat. 
And toward Mother Goose Land were soon 

The first one they met, as they came to land, 
Was Humpty Dumpty, with smile so bland. 
They asked him the way, but, sad to tell, 
Before he could answer, down he fell. 

They fetched the king's horses, they fetched 

the king's men — 
With the pig and the donkey the number was ten. 
But when they arrived at the base of the wall. 
They could not find Humpty Dumpty at all. 






As soon as they saw the 
cart (hawing near, 

They tipped it quite over, 
with many a jeer. 

Mrs. (loose was so 
nimble she rose safe 
and sound, 

But out fell poor Piggy 
upon the hard 
ground ; 

.\nd, thoroughly fright- 
ened, Mrs. Goose 
ran for aid, 
For tliat I'iggy was dead she was sorely afraid. 

I'iggy slowly came back to his senses at last ; 
But the wee (iobillillies were holding him fast. 
They soon tied together his feet and his hands 
Willi long heavy chains and strong iron bands. 

He then in a dark prison dungeon was thrust, 
His fare was but water and hard moldy crust. 
Now the owl had played them a trick, you With nothing to cheer the mysterious gloom, 

see ; And to li\c there forever lie feared was his <!()om. 

For the donkey went home to fmish his tea, 
And Piggy much feared he would never get I'.ut in at the window a light glimmered soon, 

home. And in tlirough the bars hopped the Man-in- 

But his whole life long round the country tlie-Moon. 

would roam. Hethrew Piggy's chains on the floorwith a clang, 

.^nd out through the window a free Piggy sprang. 
Then he turned, and he 

saw dear Mrs. Gray 

Who said she would 

willingly be of some 

Though where Piggy's 

home was she did 

not just know. 
But the highroad to Pig- 
land she gladly 

would show. 

The road to it ran 
through the Gobil- 
lillies' wood, 

A mischievous sprite- 
folk that do little 




, <st> <*• ' 



Piggy could not run fast, — he was not very Little dreamed the poor Piggy that help was at 

thin. — hand, 

And closer and closer came a terrible din. Or that he was near to the Piccaninny Land — 

Heheard just behind him the Gobillilly crew, The dear Piccaninnies, so brave and so good, 

And hoots of the owl ; now what could he do ? Who lived in the orchard beyond the next wood. 




Before tlicm the base Gobillillies soon fled ; 
Of the bold Piccaninnies they had a great 

Straight back to their sliadowy woodhind 

they ran, 
While Piggy gave thanks to that other kind 


^Vhen Piggy had rested, he starteii again 
To seek his lost home, throughout meadow 

and fen. 
He very soon came to a cool river wide; 
His home, he thought, lay on the opposite 


Young Ferryman Frog was tlicrc with his 
/ punt. 

And Piggy, on seeing him, gave a deep 

All was now so serene that his troubles 

seemed o'er, 
.■\s he and the ferryman jiushed from the 







But when the old owl saw him, happy 

and bright, 
And nothing the worse for his terrible fright. 
He took a great stone and, flying in front. 
He dropped it right through the thin floor 

of the punt. 

And so the boat sank, 

and they both had 

to swim. 
And, hastening off, the 

frog hallooed to 

Strike out for the bank. 

I wish you good 

But I must beware of 

that greedy white 


Then Piggy struck out, 
and he soon 
came to land, 

And a kind little lamb 
reached out for his 

And exclaimed to poor Piggy, as he wished 

him " good day," 
I fear you have met with ill luck on 

your way. 

' Vou are wet to the skin, and as cold as can 

I pray you, good sir, won't you come 

home with me ? 
'T is only a step, for our house is close by, 
And there we will soon make you 'comfy ' 

and dry." 








To this Piggy gratefully gave his assent, 

And shivered as off to the lamb's house he went. 

In through the garden where the cockle-shells 

And was welcomed by Ba-Ba (the "black 

sheep," you know ). 

"Wc will dry your wet clothes," friendly iJa-Ba •• In this curious world," said Piggy, " I find 

then said, That a black sheep is often exceedingly kind." 

"Put your feet in hot water, and get you to 












Next day, well refreshed, Piggy tried once again 
To find his lost home, and the way seemed 
quite plain ; 






But scarce had he started when, right in the But, as he went off, he remarked, with a grin, 
way, " You must thank the witch-owl for the plight 

He saw, to his horror, the fierce old Wolf Gray. you are in." 

The wolf then robbed Piggy of coat and of A pieman was passing just then, with his pies, 
hat. And seeing poor Piggy with tears in his eyes. 

Piggy begged for his life, and the wolf spared He felt very sorry to find him so sad, 
him that; And said that his luck must 

have been very bad. 





Then out of the pie, like a swarm of great bees, 
Came twenty-four blackbirds, as Hvely as fleas. 
'I'hey flew at his face, with twitters and cries; 
And pecked at the poor Piggy's ears, nose, and 

He rushed away madly till deep in a wood. 
This time his way home he had quite lost for 
When out of the wood, with 
his ])ipc and his bowl 
And his fiddlers, came sud- 
denly — good Old 
King Cole. 


--'A.- _ 






' Cheer up," said the pieman, " and eat a nice tart. 
We '11 catch that old wolf, and we '11 soon make him smart. 
We '11 get back your clothes when we come to the fair, 
With the help of my dog, who is sure to be there." 

Piggy soon got his (Sothes when they reached the big fair, 

And at once started out to see all that was there. 

First he saw a great pie — one fit for a king ! 

And as Piggy drew near he could hear the birds sing. 





Piggy bowed humbly then to the kindly old king. 
"A boon! Sire, a boon! won't you grant me this thing 
" It is granted, O Pig, and you have but to ask it." 
"Then let the old woman take me home in her basket.' 

Snug and deei) in the basket here Piggy now 

As they mount up and up — right up to the 

skies ; 
Then down, down they come. Piggy fears 

for his life, 
liut the old woman 
brings him safe 
back to his wife. 



Good-by, dear old Piggy ; your troubles are With your wife and three children all safe in 

over. your home, 

With your wife and your children you '11 now lie content tliere henceforth and no more try 

live in clover ; to roam ! 


I'.Y Clifkin Johnson. 

Thic Japanese doll got up very early one 
morning, and harnessed his wooden cow to 
tiie cart, that he might go to town. 

He traveled and traveled along the mantel- 
shelf a great way. The wooden cow did not 
go very fast, so the Japanese doll saw all the 
sights along the way. 

Suddenly he heard some one calling, " Jappy, 

.I^M'py- J'TPPy. stop! " 

And the Japanese dojl said, " So, Bossy ! so, 
Bossy ! " to the cow, an*d the cow stopped. 

Then the doll saw who it was that had 
called to him : it was a |)a|jer nun. She was 
standing now in front of the wooden cow, 
with a great earthern jar in her arms as big as 
a tub. 

" Your cow looked so hot ami thirsty," said 
the paper nun, " that I thought 1 wouUl bring 
her something to drink." 

" You are very kind," said the doll, as the 
nun set the jar down in the roadway. 

The cow sniffed it and then drank it all up, 
for it was full of milk instead of water. 

A little Maltese kitten had followed the nun, 
and while the cow was busy drinking the milk, 
the kitten crept from behind the nun's skirts to 
lap up some spatters of milk around the bot- 
tom of the jar. 

Just then a kni<l and very peculiar noise from 
away down the road — I mean the mantel-shelf 
— made the kitten scamper off for safety. 

The nun and the Japanese doll looked down 
the road in the direction from which the sound 
came. Even the wooden cow turned her head 
and the kitten peeped around from the shelter 
of the nun's black skirt. 

What they saw was a yellow china chicken 
coming with a hand-organ. When it came up 
to them the chicken stopped, and it played such 
a merry tune that the kitten came out in the 
road where it could hear better. 

The nun clapped her hands, for she was 
good-natured and liked a Ijii of music now 
and then ; while the Japanese doll leaned over 
the rail of his cart and said to the chicken, 
" That is a very pretty tune, sir." 

The doll had just finished speaking when the 
sun rose. Its bright rays shone in at the win- 
dow and clear across the room. That made 
the mantel-shelf folk all stop just where they 
were ; they never move about by daylight. 
.'Vnd when little girl Margaret came down- 
stairs, there she saw the Jajjanese doll and the 
wooden cow and the paper nun and the kitten 
and the chicken with the hand-organ exactly 
as you see them in the picture. 




" Buz-z-zip-PAHl Hateful screen-n-n-no\v 
I 'm through-oo-oo. D-d-dinner-r-rl Ah-here ! " 


" Buz-z-z — narrow-s-s-scape-that ! — z-z-z — 
here 's-another-place-to-z-z-zettle. — Ah! " 

insect, with their funny antics, are only amusing 
until we call to mind that in a short time they 
will become mosquitos ; and then perhaps the 
oil-can promptly pours its contents upon the 
surfaces of their habitations. There is no- 
thing that gives a better opportunity to practise 
consistency than one's opinions of the mos- 

Everybody knows the song that the mosquito quito. Generally ignorance or carelessness in- 

sings, varied, of course, to suit occasions ; but 
listen a bit, keeping in mind the surroundings, 
and you can translate it easily enough. It may 
be the bad boy's tough cheek that is the burden 
of the refrain, or the little girl's tender cheek ; 

terferes. We hate the pests ; often they cannot 
be tolerated ; we do what we can for the mo- 
ment to get away from them ^retreat within 
the house and quickly close the screen door 
after us, and the tiny little foes shortly squeeze 

it may be mama's white forehead, or papa's ear, through the screen and get at us in spite of our 

or baby's dimpled hand. That song always wire guards. 

presages evil, and the worst of it is that it is And all this fuss when, with very little trou- 

uot always a solo, but often a chorus. There ble, w-e might go calmly about and be altoge- 

are some things that make us exceedingly an- ther rid of the pests. ' Just interest the neigh- 

gry, and yet the ne.xt moment seem funny or bors in the same idea! Let everybody see that 

ridiculous. The mosquito is one of these things, no stagnant water exists near by, fill up or drain 

Over the exasperating bloodthirsty, disease- the natural little pools, overturn the tomato- 

spreading pest we 
can get justly 
wrathful until we 
long for some- 
thing to descend 
on each and every 
winged nuisance 
and put them all 
out of existence. 
But the lively httle 
wriggler larvae, the 
■water-babies of this 


Almost anything that will hold water is acceptable. 

cans, broken pitch- 
ers, bottles, old 
rubber shoes, and 
anything else that 
can catch rain-wa- 
ter ; or if swampy 
ground, rain-bar- 
rels, tanks, water- 
ing-troughs, or sur- 
face cisterns can- 
not be avoided, 
either pour some 



kerosene on 
their surfaces, 
say three or four 
times duriiiE; 
the summer, to 
spread over as 
a film ; or if the 
water is to he 
utih'zeil from 

The eggs are placed on end and packed 
closely together on the surface of water, or above, jUSt t)Ut 

few little 


on wet earth where puddles occur. Some- 
times as many as 400 eggs are in one mass, jfj 


In such places they are generally protected by the dense grass. A "wolf" 
in the fold, in the shape of a little chub-minnow, which might seem to the 
mo.squitos a veritable monster, forces its way into the retreat, and gobbling 
up the wrigglers wholesale, soon rids the place of them. Thus is the little 
fish one of man's best friends. 

fish of any kind — minnows, sunnies, or baby 
perch. Then watch for results. If this plan is 
carried out consistently in any moscjuito-rid- 
den neighborhood, 
there will be no 
more mosquitos in 
that section for 
some time, although 
each year these pre- 
ventive measures 
should be resumed. 
Mosquitos are 
numbered among 
the many insects 
that live an aquatic 
life during their im- 
perfect stages as 
larvae and pupae. 
Tlie female lays 
her eggs, from a hundred to several hundred, 
in a boat-shaped mass oTi the surface of water. 
In twenty-four hours, if the weather is warm, 
the eggs hatch, the tiny wrigglers 
wriggling out of the lower ends 
of the upright eggs into the wa- 
ter below. They feed upon mi- 
nute algae, diatoms, and animal- 
cules, and every now and then 
wriggle to the surface, head 
down, to breathe air through 
their air-tubes. They grow very 
rapidly. Three times, finding 
their skins will not stretch as fast 
as they grow, they discard them 
for new ones, after the manner 
of many other kinds of larva-, 
such as caterpillars. In about 
a week or ten days they go 
through a remarkable change, 

Vol. X.\XI.— 82-83. 

from the larva 
to the pupa 
form, casting 
tlieir wriggler 
stems off alto- 
gether and 
turning back 
u]i instead of 
tail up. With 
little round, 
fat bodies and heads all in one, and curved tails 
with paddles, they go to kicking and jumping 
instead of wriggling. They do not now feed at 
all, but require more air than before, and get it 

through two little 
air-tubes that look 
like ears sticking 
out of their backs, 
and they spend 
much time at the 
surface for the pur- 
[)ose. If frightened, 
they give a vigorous 
kick which send.s 
iliem down to the 
bottom, though 

they float to the 
surface again at 
once unless they 
keep on kicking. 
In two or three days they again become 
almost inert, and their backs, projecting a little 
out of water, crack open, and out of each one 
comes a regular full-fledged mos- 
quito. Putting legs out first and 
standing on the water or on the 
pupa skin, it draws its body up 
and out into the free air. At first 
it seems liinp and soft and its 
wings are small and milky white. 
In a few moments it becomes 
darker in color and more active, 
and, its wings e.xpanding and 
stiffening, it rises in the air and 
flies away —ready for its prey, an 
active enemy of the human race. 
There are many erroneous 
ideas concerning the mosquito. 
It is commonly said that mos- 
quitos " bite'." The impression 


Those at the surface are breathing air 
through their air-tubes. 




is also common 
that grass, weeds, 
and shrubbery are 
alone responsible 
for their existence. 
As a matter of fact, 
the male mosqui- 
tos are not blood- 
thirsty ; their aji- 
petites,if they have 
any, are more gen- 
tle and peacefully 

Only the females 

gers our lives 
by carrying dis- 
eases, — for it ap- 
pears to be the 
sole cause of ma- 
laria and in trop- 
ical countries of 
yellow fever, — 
we must call upon 
the agents that 
are destined to 
exterminate the 
pests in time. Of 
these methods 



The eugs are laid on the surface, and dO nOt really bite, 
.he young mosqui.os swim ,n the water, ^j^^^ ^^^.^ ^^ jg^^,^ 

for biting. It is a piercing and blood-sucking 
act they perform, quite as bad, no doubt, as bit- 

" bite," and they the principal are, 
kerosene on the 

water, filling up 
the stagnant pools 
with earth, dis- 

The one at the surface on the left is 
breathing air through its air-tubes. The 
one on the right has completed its 
transformation, and the adult mosquito 
is coming out of the pupa skin through 
a slit in the back- Its wings will soon 
expand and dry, and it will Ity away to 
seek food. 

ing, but not accurately described by that word carding rain-barrels, and putting fish in the 
in a scientific account. small ponds to eat the larvae. The dragon-fly 

and many other water insects feed upon 
the mosquito larvae and thus aid us in keep- 
ing down the numbers of mosquitos. 

It is to be hoped that some day tlie 
national and the state governments will 
appropriate large sums of money to com- 
bat and destroy the mosquito. This has 
been done in certain sections, as in New 
Jersey, South Carolina, Havana, Cuba, 
etc. But it must be done everywhere at 
once to be successful, else the insects will 
be carried from infested to " exterminat- 
ed " regions by means of boats, trains, etc. 
Sam-Uei, Fr.\xcis A.aron. 


She approaches, expectant, on bloody business bent, "singing" a high- 
pitched, joyful song. She alights upon the investigator's sleeve, and the song 
ceases. She likes not the sampling thereof, and removes, the song contin- 
ued, to the willing victim's finger-tip. She proceeds to business, and fills her- 
self with blood and the linger with itching, whereat, rejoicing exceedingly, 
she barkens away, singing again, and lays numerous eggs in the rain-filled 

While they find shelter in the low herbage, 
mosquitos depend absolutely on water or very 
moist earth for existence, though winds will 
sometimes blow them quite a distance away 
from water and in great numbers. This ex- 
plains the fact, often noted, that a town or vil- 
lage near the sea is sometimes visited for days 
by hordes of these insects, and again is sud- 
denly freed from them when the wind shifts to 
the opposite points of the compass. 

Mosquitos have many enemies : bats and 
birds, and, more than these, dragon-flies catch 
countless numbers of them. But these are not to 
be controlled, though they should be protected. 

If we wish to wage relentless war on the 
mosquito, that not only annoys us but endan- 

These plumed " dandies," though hard to see and find, are common 
about the matted grasses, rank weeds, and bushes m low meadows 
and damp woods, never far from water. They subsist mostly on 
vegetable matter and sweets. 



\Vk. Nature ami Siiuncc readers have heard 
of the niouiul-l)uilders as an extinct race, prob- 
ably the ancestors of our North American In- 
dians, whose only traces now left are the rude 
mounds or tunnels found in various parts of 
the country. 

But the mound-builders with wlioni we are 
now concerned are warriors as keen and alert on 
the war-path to-day as any extinct ones whose 
name they may bear. Surely they may not be 
so swift of foot, though they have four pairs 
of legs and can move backward as well as for- 
ward. And keen of 
eye these fellows are 
too, for their eyes are 
mounted on movable ^B 

stalks and can be 
turned in any direc- 

'l"hc crawfish is a 
member of the lobster 
family, and just at this 
time of the year not in 
the best of spirits, being 
hungry and in poor 
condition from the 
winter's confinement. 

He does not hiber- 
nate in the strict sense pi the woril, that is, 
pass into a state of torpor, but withdraws into 
a round dwelling of his own construction during 
winter's cold. 

If we wade out into the water and lift up 
some of those rocks, we shall surely find one 
or more of the animals. So numerous are they 
that here under this first stone is a good-sized, 
ferocious-looking one, fully four inches long. 
The average length of the crawfish is from 
three to four inches. On close inspection, he 
exactly resembles a little lobster of a dull 
greenish or brownish color. 

He is a good fighter, this warrior; 
but as an enemy it would be almost impos- 
^ible to meet him in a fair open fight, for 
he is sadly lacking in the true warrior's sense of 

Indeed, the term " crawfish " has come to 
mean a withdrawal, a backing down from one's 


position ; and just watch this fellow in order to 
understand the significance of the term. He 
is moving slowly away from us, crawling along 
the bottom of the stream by means of his four 
pairs of legs. We bend down cautiously to 
seize him, but before we can realize it the ras- 
cal has eluded us. With sudden jerks he is 
rapidly swimming backward, propelled by the 
strokes of the broad fan-shaped tail which ter- 
minates the hinder end of his body. 

A shield covers the front part of our war- 
rior's body, and two purple pincer claws are 
his chief weapons of offense and defense. Be- 
hind his two mounted eyes follow two pairs of 


feelers, one ending in two short-jointed fila- 
ments, like a whip-lash, which is more than 
half the length of the animal's body. 

If we can keep track of him and follow him 
to the bank, he will surely retreat into his for- 
tress. Here at our feet are many of these 
little fortifications, which look like mud mounds 
or chimneys, from four to twelve inches in 
height and with an ()[)ening about two inches 
in diameter. 

The warriors have constructed these fortifi- 
cations by burrowing a hole into the ground, 
which reaches muddy water at bottom, where 
they may wet their gills. The earth thrown 
up in the burrowing process forms the mud 
chimney, a rough j)yramidal mound, usually 



( May, 

the only opening being the entrance to the 

In front of many of these mounds, guarding 
the entrance with outstretched claws, may be 
seen others of these queer fellows — eyes alert, 
feelers protruding like the mustachios of a 
fierce bucaneer, ready to seize and devour 
water-snail, tadpole, or frog; in fact, few 
things in the way of food are now amiss, for 
throughout the winter the most alert have been 
able to find little. Sometimes they make for- 
aging e.\peditions inland in search of vegetable 
food, and I am sorry to say these unprincipled 
fellows are often guilty of cannibalism. 

Crawfish vary quite a little in their habits, 
according to the locality in which they live. In 
some places they build their chimneys at a con- 
siderable distance from any permanent body of 
water, and we find whole acres of prairie- 
land completely covered with their curious 
mounds. Ev.a. E. Furlong. 


\V.\SHI.\GTON, D. C. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I have read you for many 
years, but I like better than anything in your volumes 
(that we have saved up) the talks in Nature and Sci- 



ence. I have noticed in our yard a sparrow with white 

in its wings, and with outer tail-feathers of pure white. 

I wish to know if there are many sparrows like this. 

I hope you will answer me, for I am sure this is the 

first one I have seen. 

Your loving reader, 

Candler Cobb (age 13). 

This is the vesper-sparrow, that is a per- 
manent resident in Washington and south- 
ward, but is seen by our Northern observers 
only from April to October or November. 

The song has been described as " pensive 
but not sad ; its long-drawn silvery notes 
continue in quavers that float off unended 
like a trail of mist." This sparrow does 
not usually sing while gathering food, but 
seeks some elevated position, where he de- 
votes himself entirely to song. The evening, 
as his name implies, is his favorite time for 
singing, but he is not altogether silent in the 
morning and midday. 

birds near the houses. 

Wayne, Pa. 

Dear St. Nicholas: In the winter, as I was 
walking along with a young friend of mine, he 
called mv attention to a robin in a tree near the 
street. It was the first one that I ever saw in win- 
ter, though I had once read that they stayed in shel- 
tered places in the winter. What I wish to know 
is : Do they go south in the winter, and, if so, how 
it happened that this one is still here? 

Y'our loving reader, 

Alfred Redfiei.d. 




Dear St. Nicholas: We have .in unusually 
cold winter and more snow tlian wc have had for years. 
The birds do not seem to go South, but stay right 
around all the time. There .are robins .md bluebirds, 
sapsuckers, and many other birds. Will you please tell 
me why this is, and if it means we will have an early 
spring? We cannot understand this at all. 

Your devoted friend, IIii iiA C. Wii kie. 

It is not at all unu.sual for robins to be seen 
singly or two or three together in winter near 
Philadelphia, and our field observers have re- 
ported them every winter for some years in the 
neighboring country districts. 

They are more or less local, of course, which 
accounts for their being seen in one spot and 
not noticed at another. The comparative inac- 
tivity of ornithologists in winter has a good 
deal to do with their apparent absence, how- 
ever. Bluebirds are still more regularly resi- 
dent, now that they are regaining their former 

As to Delaware, the same remarks apply, 
except that I have every reason to expect that 
both birds are far more abundant there than in 
this neighborhood in winter. 

In southern New Jersey there are large flocks 
of robins every winter. — Whitmkr Stone, 
Academy of A'atiiral Scif/iccs, Philadelphia, Pa. 

" I remember one long winter spent in the 
country, when it seemecj that spring would 
never come. At last one day the call of a robin 
rang out, and on one of the few bare spots 
made by the melting snow there stood the first 
redbreasts! It was a sight I can never forget." 
Florence Merrim.'vn Bailey. 

electricity in one's hair. 

Essex, N. Y. 
Dear St. NicHor.AS: I have a question to ask you. 
I have thought and thought, but I cannot think of the 
answer to it. How, when, why, and where did elec- 
tricity get into our hair? I don't know that anybody 
knows, but if anybody does it is you. Mama, my friend 
Carrie, antl my teacher, and I all thought it over, but 
we cannot find the answer. 

Your faithful reader, Freha K. Stakfokd. 

All bodies are surrounded by the electric fluid, 
and the electric current is supposed by some to 
consist of ring-like whirlings in this fluid, which 
move onward much like those smoke-rings 
sometimes made by a locomotive, or by a 

smoking man. Any dry body, when rubbed, 
will become charged with electricity. Rub a 
piece of sealing-wax with a woolen cloth, and 
it will pick up bits of papers. Shuffle the feet 
on the carpet when the weather is cold, and 
sparks may be taken from the bodv. So an 
india-rubber comli becomes electrified when 

Ki.t( I is-K r 1 \' 


The friclion of a comb supplies a sm.ill .imoiint — enough to make 
tiny sparks. This young lady took a large charge from an electri- 
cal tnachine. You will note that some of the hair, though over two 
feet in length, is extending upward. She is seated on a chair on a 
platform supported by blocks of glass, so that the electricity cannot 
easily run off. 

jiassed through dry hair, which is itself a poor 
conductor and prevents the electricity from 
passing off rapidly. If the hair is wet, the 
electricity will pass into the earth through the 
body, and not be noticed. When thinking of 
these matters we must remember that vast 
" ocean " of electric fluid which suiTounds the 
whole earth, and that any manifestation of 
electricity is only a disturbance in this great 
"sea." We have done something to set those 
rings to whirling. The comb has the power 
to cause this disturbance. The hair has neither 
gained nor lost anything. The movement of 
the comb on the hair has smiply caused a com- 
motion in this universal sea of electricity. You 




can disturb the Atlantic Ocean by dipping your 
hand into it. You can make a cliange in this 
electrical ocean by passing a comb through 
your hair, or by rubbing the fur on the cat's 
back. Kitty may not be pleased, for you must 
rub her fur the wrong way ; but the experiment 
is interesting on a cold day, especially when 
made in the dark, for then the fire will flash, 
and sometimes the electricity will make your 
fingers tingle. The rubbing has caused a com- 
motion in the sea of electricity that surrounds 
all things, and those whirling rings have run off 
from the points of the hairs, and the result has 
made itself seen or felt, or perhaps both. 

The usual scientific explanation, with its vorti- 
ces, and its negative and positive electricity, and 
how the electrical fluid spreads over the whole 
surface of a sphere, and neu- 
tralization, and strain, and the 
action of pointed bodies, and 
all the rest of it, is difficult for 
anybody to understand, and I 
trust that this less technical 
answer will be found a simpler 
and clearer explanation of the 


The following is a commu- 
nication from a young lover of 
nature showing rather unusual 
diligence in observation. 

Philadelphia, Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Two friends and myself took a 
walk across the field to the " Knoll" to hunt for wild 
flowers. As I wished to get some insects, I left the 
others to fill their baskets with flowers, while I went back 
of the hill to hunt under a pile of stones. Imagine my 
astonishment when, upon turning over one of the 
stones, I was greeted with a dozen small reports like 
the shooting of tiny revolvers. What had made these ? 
Well, what I saw was half a dozen little blue beetles 
under the stone, running about, trying to get away, and 
each one was shooting at me! — shooting something 
which I could not see, but which burnt my fingers when 
it hit them, and which not only made the report that 
had surprised me, but was accompanied with a little 
puff of blue smoke. I had read about these beetles, 
and now I was so pleased and excited over actually find- 
ing some that I quickly gathered them into my cyanide- 
jar, and went rushing over the hill-crest, wildly shout- 
ing to the others, "I have seen the bombardiers! I 
have seen the bombardiers!" At first this considerably 

alarmed them, till I showed them the beetles. I 
have -since learned that the bombardier-beetles be- 
long to the genus Brtii-ZiynuSfWluch contains twenty-six 
species widely distributed over the United States, vary- 
ing in size but almost alike in color, wing-covers blue, 
the rest reddish brown. The genus GaUrita contains 
beetles of the same shape and color, but much larger 
(three fourths of an inch or more in length, whereas 
bombardier-beetles are never much over one half-inch), 
and they are much more common here in Pennsylvania. 
Beetles of the genus Lchia resemble bombardier-beetles, 
but have more shiny wing-covers. These three genera 




iiuiy thus be roughly distinguished, and there are no 
Dther beetles in the United States which closely resem- 
ble bombardier-beetles. It is almost impossible, even 
for an experienced entomologist, to tell the species of 
bombardier-beetles, so minute are the differences. So 
ue young collectors have to be content with labeling 
the specimens ^^ Brachymtts sp. ?," if we want to use 
the Latin name at all. They belong to the family 

The shooting of the bombardier-beetles is done for 
defense, and is probably very effective against small 
enemies. It is said that they will shoot as much as a 
tlozen times _in succession, but I have never been able 
to make them shoot more than two or three times. 
It is also said that when the reservoir which contains 
the liquid is opened by dissection, it effervesces and 
evaporates instantaneously. 

The beetles are not uncommon in the United States, 
and I wonder how many times in succession they can be 
made to shoot. 

J. Chester Bradley, 




r . - 


swimmer is allied to the squash-Inig, chinch- 
hug, and insects of that kind. It swims lusu- 
aliy back downward, and carries air attached 
in a bubble to the hinder end and sometimes 
over the whole under surface. In swimming, 
it folds up the first and second legs, and uses 
the long hind pair as your letter describes. From 
these two long legs extending like the oars from 
a boat, the insect is sometimes called " water- 
boatman." This common name more strictly 
l)elongs to another insect (the Corixa) that 
somewhat resembles the back-swimmer in ap- 
pearance and habits. The Corixa, however, 
swims with back upward. 

The eggs of one Me.xican species are used 
for food by Indians and half- 
breeds, and large (juan ti- 
tles of the insects art- 
sent to Europe as 
food for game and 
song-birds, and for 
poultry and fish. 
It is estimated 
that one ton 
contains twen- 
ty-five million 


Not found in this country. It c.-irrics bubbles of air into 
its under-thc-watcr home. 

a back-swimmer" not a water-spider 

Worcester, Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Yesterday I discovered what 
1 suppose to 1)C a water-spider, and found it so interest- 
ing I thought your readers would like to know about it. 
The insect is about three fourths of an inch long and 
one fourth of an inch wide. It has six legs and uses 
but two wlien swimming. It swims on its back. Wlien 
the insect finds an air bubble it puts a sni.all tube, which 
is on the end of the body, into it, takes the air, and dis- 
appears. It is very shy and soon there was not one to 
be seen. Your interested reader, 

Hele.n B. Green (age 12). 

The water insect you saw is the " back-swim- 
mer " (A'otonecta). 

In Europe there is really a watcr-sj)ider that 
makes a nest on plants under water and lives 
there a large part of the time, but, as far as 
anybody knows, there is no w-ater-spider in this 
country, though there are inany kinds that live 
near the water and can run over its surface 
without sinking or getting wet. The back- 


This is an insect, not a spider, but this and the " water-boatman ' 
are sometimes miscalled "water-spiders," 






{Cash Frizt\) 

An April shower is falling fast upon the grasses green, 
And in the meadow by the brook tlie wild fiowers may 

be seen ; 
While sitting in the window-seat, my story-books among, 
I see a nest that in a tree the orioles have swung. 

Tt has a story I will tell to every listening ear ; 

How long it seems since first 't was built — and yet 't is 

but a year! 
So skilfully the nest was made, each thread was placed 

with care, 
And soon a dainty cradle soft was swaying in the air. 

'T was first the patient mother bird that sat upon the 

nest ; 
She safely kept secure and warm the eggs beneath her 

But soon four tiny, fluffy birds sat waiting to be fed — 
The sunbeams shone through branches green and lit 

each downy head. 

And thus the summer passed away, the days grew short 

and chill, 
The air that once was full of song but for the wind was 

The birds had to the southward flown, for cheerless 

grew the air, 
And in the maple-tree a nest clung to the branches bare. 

The mountains melt in rosy mist, the flowers with 

beauty glow, 
And fretting 'gainst its mossy banks I hear the river 

flow ; 
But though the spring has come again, with nature's 

beauties free, 
I sigh to see an empty nest still swaying on a tree. 

The League editor has written much about the object 
and purpose of our organization, and of the spirit of 
unselfish endeavor in which the competitions should be 
entered and the work performed. But nothing the 
editor might say could so well express just what is 
meant as a letter from one of the League's oldest and 
most persevering members, who now, in the hour of 
her " graduation," sends this farewell word: 

Washington, D. C. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I am so proud and happy I 
scarcely know how to thank you for my prize! When 
my name was on the roll of honor for the first time, I 
never thought that when I should " graduate" I could 
have attained this height. 

I never shall forget the day, now more than three years 
ago, — although I can hardly believe it, — when I first 
saw my name in print. It was one Christmas morning 
that I opened my St. Nicholas and saw that I had 
advanced a step with the New Year number. I felt 
that it was the best of all my Christmas presents, for I 
had been working almost a year in the League and it 
was the first time my work had been noted. And then, 
later on, when I received the silver badge, I think I 
was the happiest child in the city. 

Last August, when my gold badge came, as I look 
back now, I can see there was a difference in my plea- 

At first it was the delight of winning, but last sum- 
mer it was the delight in the work itself. Last of all 
comes this five-dollar prize, — the first money I ever 
earned, — for which I find it harder to express my 
thanks than ever before. Not that I do not value it as 
much, but because it means so much to me. 

Now that I am about to leave it (the May competi- 
tion will be my last), I see more clearly than ever what 
the League has been to its members, and I feel with 
deeper realization the strong spirit of fellowship and 
kindness that has enabled us to go thus far on our way, 
with no thought of envy, only sincere good will toward 




tlic fortunate ones whose work hrought them first to 
the front to receive iheir just reward ; and then they 
passed on, leaving their places to tlic next to come. 

And now, dear Sr. Nicholas, since my time has 
come to say good-by, let me you for this, the 
last prize the League can give me, and then earnestly 
say that while I may leave the ranks of my fellows to 
take my place in the world, it is with heartfelt regret 
that I may no longer actively engage in its work anil 
feel myself actually one with the many that love it. 

But, wherever I may go, whatever my work may be, 
I shall always hold the thought of my " League days " 
as one of the most precious memories of my life. .\nd 
while not a member, I may try to follow out the mntlo 
of the League, and per- 
haps in living to learn 
I may in time le.arn how 
to live. 

Thanking you once 
more, I am, as always. 
Sincerely yours, 



No. 53. 

In making awards, 
contributors' ages are 

Verse. Cash prize, 
Philip Stark (age 14), 
Sawkill. I'ike Co., I'a. 

Gold l)adges, Anne 
Atwood (age 13), Ston- 
inglon. Conn., and Ger- 
ald Pyle (age 10), Cair- 
croft, Del. 

Silver badges, Gladys 
Nelson (age 13), Syca- 
more .Springs, Hutlcr 
Co., Kan., and Ray 
Randall (age 13), 2000 
Durant .■\ve., Berkeley, 

Prose. Gold badges, 
Florence Elwell (age 
15), .XndiLT'.t, Ma--... 
and Mary Elsie New- 
ton (age 13), O.xfonl, 

Silver b.adges, Clara 
Shanafelt (age 12), 
8lb.\. Market St., Can- 
ton, Ohio, Fred S. Hopkins (age 10), no Mill St., 
Springfield. Mass., and Gladys Carroll (age 13), Sara- 
nac Lake, N. V. 

Drawing. Cash prize, Harry B. Lachman (.age 
17), S02 Oakland .Vvc. , ,\nn .Arbor, .Mich. 

Gold b.adgc, Muriel C. Evans (age 16), 226 Jarvis 
St., Toronto, Can. 

Silver badges, Doris Shaw (age 13), Tor Vina, 
Tavi^tnck, Devon, England, and Dorothy Sturgis (age 
12), 7 Cliestnut St., Boston, Mass. 

Photography. Gold badges, Harold S. Schoff (age 
17), 3418 r.aring St., Philadelphia, Pa., and Robert 
Edward Fithian (age 13), 140 W. Commerce St., 
Bridgeton, Conn. 

Silver badges, H. W. H. Powel, Jr. (age 16), 22 
Kay St., Newport, R. I., Elizabeth Howland Webster 

(age 14), 5405 Woodlawn Ave., Chicago, III., and 
Robert B. Piatt (age 12), 414 E. Broad St., Columbus, 

Wild Animal and Bird Photography. First prize, 
" 'I'osNuni," Ijy Thurston Brown (age 15), Middle- 
burg, V'a. Sec<md prize, " Wild Ducks," by Hervey 
Hubel (age 13), 1 12 Alexandrine .Ave., Detroit, Mich. 
Third prize, " Chick.adce," by Samuel Dowse Robbins 
(age lb), r.ox 64, Belmont, Mass. 

Puzzle-making. Gold badges, John Dunton Keyes 
(age 15), Ridley Park, Pa., and Henry Morgan Brooks 
(age 14), 1012 \Vest Oregon St., L'rbaiia. 11!. 

.Silver b.adges, Elizabeth B. Berry (age 12), 823 
Federal St., Canuleii. .\. J., and Alice Knowles (age 

S), 24S Morris .-Vve., 

Providence, K. I. 

Puz zl e-answers. 
Gold l)a<lgcs, Mary 
Beale Brainerd (age 
16), 1 1 14 P^ifth Ave., 
Seattle, Wash., and 
Ruth Bartlett (age 10), 
1 lampion Falls, js'. H. 
Silver badges. John 
P. Phillips "(age 16), 
St. I iiwids. Pa., and 
Samuel B. Fairbanks 
(age lb), 9 Dane St., 
Beverly, Mass. 

l',ni!.\VHITK NEST 

by gerald pyle 
(a(;e 10). 

{Gold Badge.) 
Among the hills 

.\nd by the brooks. 
By ruined mills 

And shady nooks, 
Xow listen well, 

.Vnd you 'U not miss 
.\ woodland trill. 

It sounds like this : 

" Bob-white!" 

But now it 's gone; 

'T is heard no more 
In shady nooks 

Where heard before ; 
In well-known haunts 

We greatly miss 
The w-oodland trill 

That sounds like this : 





{Gold Badse.) 

One day Cupid was sitting on a mossy bank, mending 
his bow and arrows, wdien .\pollo chanced to come that 
way. Apollo noticed wdiat Cu]iid was doing anil said 
to him, "Those weapons you have belong by right tome; 
for have I not slain that dreadful monster, the Python, 
with them ? Why will you meddle with what you are 
not worthy of? k little fellow like you should have no 
use for warlike wea])ons." 

.\t this Cupid was very much offended and deter- 
mined to take vengeance on .X polio with those very weap- 
ons which he claimed for himself. So, after inspecting 




his quiver, he drew out two arrows, 
one of gold and very sharp, the other 
a blunt one of lead. The golden one 
was to excite love and the other to re- 
pel it. The first he sent straight 
through the heart of Apollo; with the 
second he struck a very beautiful girl 
named Daphne. 

Immediately their spell began to 
work. Apollo was seized with an ar- 
dent love for Daphne, while she feared 
him equally. He tried to approach 
her and spoke pleasant words to her, 
but she only feared him the more and 
ran away like a frightened deer. 

" O beautiful maiden, do not flee 
from me. I do not wish to harm you. 
Only stay and let me tell you how 
l)eautiful you are." S<> he tried by ten- 
der words to induce her to stay, but 
she only ran the faster, and he followed. 

But Apollo was swifter than she, and 
soon the maiden saw that he would 
surely overtake her, so she looked 
about her in search of some way of es- 
cape. Sinking to the earth, she prayed 
to her father, the river-god, to help 
her. Scarcely had she said this than 
she found herself rooted in the earth and her body cov- 
ered with bark. Her arms became branches and her 
head a tree-top, while her long hair formed leaves. 

Apollo, following just behind, stopped astonished at 
her sudden transformation. "Although I may not wed 
you," he said, "I will take you for my tree. The vic- 
tors of the games held in my honor shall be crowned 
with wreaths of your leaves." Thus, the story tells' 
us, Apollo came to choose the laurel for his emblem. 



•bitter cold. by HAROLD S. SCHOFF, AGE 17, (GOLD BADGE.) 


(Go/d Baif^e.) 
I LEAVE thee, smitten with the wander-need, 

And dally dow^n the roadway through the spring. 
I love thee, but the summer calls me forth 
To rouse her minions with my chanty's ring. 

A\'hen golden-chaliced daffies bend and sway 
-\nd swallows give the deep, rich, mating-call, 

I 'II carol through the budding forest ways 
To make thee mistress of my forest hall. 

Where deep the streamlet runs through primrosed 
Where cold winds never blow nor gray clouds 
We '11 nest together in the golden spring. 
And carol daily as life's sun goes down. 



(Go/J Baiige.) 

My favorite episode in mythology is the story of 

A long, long time ago there lived two brothers, 
Prometheus and Epimetheus. Prometheus, not 
caring to live among the clouds on the mountain- 
top, went down into the world to see what he could 
do toward making it wiser and better. 

He found all mankind in a very miserable condi- 

They were living in caves, shivering with cold 
(for fire was an unknown thing to them) and dying 
with starvation. 

Immediately Prometheus went boldly to Jupiter 
and asked him for fire. However, Jupiter refused 
the request, and Prometheus turned sorrowfully 

.\s he was walking by the shore he noticed a reed. 
He saw that the hollow center was filled with a dry 




Ve made my walls of maple twigs 

— they seem by nature twined. 
This nest with downy feathers for 

the liaby birds ye lined. 
I low black the sky above us now — 

how white the drifting snow! 
I long for joyous summer and the 

gentle zephyrs low ; 
liut now 't is just the moaning of the 

winter winds I hear ; 
Oh, when will summer come to end 

this winter bleak and drear? 
Oh, how- my heart is yearning for 

the birds which springtime 
How oft they 'd come, ere they 

were strong, to rest their tired 
wings ; 
But ye are gone, and I am but a 

wild bird's empty nest, 
Swaying in the maple's arms like a 

b.abe on mother's breast. 
The moaning winds of winter sing a 

mournful lullaby : 
' Sleep, sleep, thou lonely bird's nest, 

till the springtime draweth 

pith, which would burn slowly and keep on fire a long 

He took the stalk to the dwelling of the Sun in the 
far east, where he obtained a spark of fire. 

Then, hastening home, he showed the shivering men 
how to build a fire and warm themselves by it. Soon 
every home in the land a fire, and the men, women, 
anil children were warm and happy. 

Besides giving them fire, I'rometheus showed them 
how to build houses, how to cook their food, and how 
to defend themselves from the wild beasts. 

One day lupiter chanced to look down upon the earth. 
The sight of the smiling land and the prosperous peo- 
ple angered him. He demanded the name of 
the man who had brought .about tliis change, 
•and finding out that it was Prometheus, he had 
him punished. 

Prometheus was taken to the Caucasus Moun- 
tains, and there he was chained to a rock, so 
that he could move neither hands nor feet. The 
winds whistled about him and the fierce birds 
tore his body with their claws. Yet he bore 
all his suffering without a groan. 

Year after year he hung there. Ages passed, 
and at last a hero, whose name was Hercules, 
came to the land of the Caucasus. He climbed 
the high mountain, he slew the fierce birds, and 
« ith one blow smote the chains of Prometheus 
and set him free. 

I like this story because of the noble qual- 
ities of Prometheus. 

He was always ready to help others, never 
thinking of the consequences, and he never mur- 
mured against his lot. 


{Siher Badge.) 
On, ye little architects, ye birds by summer 

Ye fashioned me with greater skill than man 
has ever shown. 



(Silver Badge. ) 

I THINK that my favorite episode in mythology is the 
story of Phaeton and the chariot of the sun. How it was that he should become angry when his 
schoolfellows laughed at the idea of his being the son 
of the great Phcebus Apollo, and how eagerly he 
started out to find his father! When he did find him, 
how he begged and entreated him to let him ride in the 
sun-chariot, as the son of any mortal would. I remem- 
ber I once went to hear Theodore Thomas's orchestra 









Z^ She sings of her little 

Under the eaves. 

Wlien she thinks she has 
made it just so every 
There is never a sigh nor 
a frown. 
She never is sad because she 
still wears 
Her last year's old-fash- 
ioned gray gown. 

She sings of the sun- 
She sings of her nest, 
She sings of the little 
Under her breast. 

and heard that story in music, and how very real it 
seemed. At first the horses went smoothly and quickly, 
but they soon perceived that their load was lighter than 
usual, and they dashed forward as if the chariot were 
empty. They left the traveled road and dashed along 
past the Great Bear and Little Bear, and past the Scor- 
pion with his poisonous breath. Phaeton became weak 
with fear and dropped the reins. The horses, feeling 
them loose on their backs, dashed headlong into the un- 
known regions of the sky, now up among 
the stars, now down scorching the earth. 
The moon was surprised to see her bro- 
ther's chariot far below her own. Tlie 
mountains took tire, the highest with their 
crowns of snow. The rivers smoked and 
all the harvest burned, and Phaeton, blinded 
with smoke, dashed forward he knew not 
whither. Then Earth prayed to Jupiter 
that, if she must perish, that he strike her 
with his thunderbolts, or, if he wished to 
save her, to send down rain. But the 
clouds were all burnt. Jupiter threw a 
thunderbolt, and Phaeton was hurled head- 
long into the river Eridanus. And the 
naiads reared a tomb for him and inscribed 
these words on it: 

" Driver of Phcebus' chariot. Phaeton, 
Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath 

this stone. 
He could not rule his father's car of fire, 
Vet it was much so nobly to aspire." 

That, you might sav, is the moral: "so 
nobly to aspire." It may have been a 
foolish thing to do, but it was at least a 
noble aspiration. 



( Sih'cr Badge. ) 

A LITTLE gray sparrow is building her nest 

In exactly the same sort of way — 
With a bit of straw here, and a bit of string there- 

As the first sparrow did the first day. 

She sings of the morning, 
She sings of the leaves. 



{Sihcr Badge.) 

Mv favorite episode in mythology is the story of 
Baucis and Philemon. I like it because they were so 
kind to strangers. 

One day Jupiter called to his swift-footed messenger. 
Mercury, and asked him if he would go to the earth 

'bitter cold. by ROBERT B. PLATT, AGE 12. (SILVER BADGE.) 

with him. He said he had heard that there was a 
village where tne people were very unkind and that he 
wished to see if this w^as true. He told Mercury to 
leave his cap and shoes and put on some old clothes. 

They got very tired with their journey to the earth, 
and so they stopped at the first house they came to and 
asked for some food and water. A woman answered 
the door and told them to go to the next house. They 
called at house after house and asked for the same 
thing, but no one would give them anything. 

The children threw mud and sticks at them. 



66 1 


•#\v\ In \' 


BVjrlf 1' iw 


^^1 ^^1 ^^m' "a^H 



Finally they saw a house on a hill and thought they 
would try that. B.iucis saw them coming, and told her 
husband to go and meet them while she got supper. 

.•\lt they had for supper was a loaf of bread, a bunch 
of grapes, and a pitcher of milk ; but they were glad to 
sh.ire it. There was only enough milk to go around, 
but when the strangers passed their cup for more there 
was always enough to serve them. They had only one 
bed, but they gave that to the strangers. 

The next morning they all went out to see the sun 
rise, and in the place of the village \v,as a beautiful lake, 
and in place of their house a palace, and Jupiter 
told them that was to be their home. He told them he 
would give them anything they wanted. Baucis said : 
" By antl by Philemon and I will die ; let us go together." 

One day some one came to look for them, but they 
could not be found, and in their place were a linden and 

an oak tree. Tired people rested at their feet, and the 
linden said : "I am B.aucis" ; and the oak saiil : " I am 

They welcomed people in their old house, they wel- 
comed people in their new house, and they welcomed 
jieople still. 



One little nest in the maple-tree. 

Daintiest, tiniest of them all ; 
One little bird near the nest so wee. 

Fluttering swiftly his wings so small: 

Guarding his mate, who, with patient care. 
Sits on the eggs and keeps them warm ; 

Never she stirs from her home in the air, 
Through tempest and thunder and summer 


nv hervev hubel, age 13. (secu.nd prue, 

"wild-bird PHOTOGRAPH.") 




(Silver Badge. ) 

My favorite episode in mythology is the spinning 
contest which was held between Athena, queen of the 
air, and a maiden named Arachne. 

.Arachnc 5]nin beautifully. Whether she spun silk, 
thre.Td, or even the coarse^t flax, it was always beauti- 
ful. People came from all over the world to see her 
work. .She was very proud of it, too, and knew she 
spun well. \\'hen people asked her who taught her she 
would say, " Nobody taught me. " Most people thouglit, 
however, that .Athena taught her. 

One day as she was spinning, with some people v^atch- 
ing her, she boasted of her work, and said that there 
was no one in the world that coulil spin so well as she. 
While she was boasting she happened to look uji, and 
slie saw Athena standing in the doorway. " .Arachne," 
said the queen, " I have heard your boasting; do you 
mean to say that I did not ttach you how to spin? " 
" Nobody taught me," said Arachne, boldly. 




They went on talking for a few 
minutes, and as Arachne kept on say- 
ing that no one could spin so well as 
she, a contest was arranged to see 
which was the best spinner. They 
decided to have the great Juno as 
their judge. 

When the day arrived, thousands 
of people came to see the contest. 
Juno sat in the clouds and watched 
the spinners. 

Arachne fixed her spinning-wheel 
on the earth and began. She picked 
out some very fine floss and wove a 
beautiful network of silk. 

Athena fixed her wheel in the air, 
and when she began the people held 
their breath. 

She used the red of the sunset, the 
blue of the sky, and many other colors 
of nature. 

As soon as Arachne saw it she be- 
gan to weep. It had been agreed that 
the one who lost should never spin 
again ; and it made Arachne so sad 
that Athena, taking pity on her, 
changed her into a spider, so she could spin as long 
she lived. 




{A Former Prize-winner. ) 

When' in the west the sun is low. 

And earth is filled with shadows 
I nestle down in mama's arms. 

And there she rocks me off to sleep. 

I hear the soft wind stir the leaves, 
As all the world lies strange and still. 

A robin twitters to his mate. 

And faint I hear a whippoorwill. 

I hear a croaking frog, and then 

I hear the wood-thrush softly call; 
And as the sunlight fades away. 

The twilight curtains gently fall. 

Upon the hill I see the trees 

Stand dark against the evening skies, 

And then I nestle deeper still. 

And close my drowsy, sleepy eyes. 

"bitter cold." by EDWIN SHOEMAKER, .^GE 16. 

as Then, while the night birds whisper luu. 

The pale stars peep out, one by one. 
A firefly glimmers through the dusk. 
His nightly travels just begun. 

And when the silver moon comes up. 
When mother earth has gone to rest, 

When all the world is clothed in gray. 
In mama's arms I make my nest. 


I!V CL.VRA r. POND (.VGE 12). 

Kixc Midas is my favorite character in mythology. 
He was very greedy, and never could get enough gold 
to suit him. The story of Midas runs this way. 

Bacchus, another mythological person, one time found 
that his teacher and foster-father was missing. 

The old teacher's name was Silenus, and he had wan- 
dered off unconsciously. 

After a while he was found by some peasants, who 
carried him to tlieir king, Midas. 

Midas recognized old Silenus, and kept him, treating 
him well and having great sport with him. 


1904. I 


L.iter Midas restored him to Bacchas, who was ovcr- 
whehiied with gr-ititude, and offered Midas a rewani, 
whereupon Miilas, greeily l^ing that he was, asked that 
everytliing lie touched sliould turn to goUI. 

Bacchus consented and went off witli Silenus. 

Midas was delighted. Everything he touched turned 
to gold. 

.-\t meal-time he sat down to the table, but found, 
much to his dismav, that his food all turned to solid 


gold as soon as touched, either with hand or teeth, and 
when he drank wine it flowed slowly and heavily down 
his throat, like slightly melted gold. 

Midas then saw his mistake, but tried to console him- 
self by turning other things to gold, but to no use. The 
hungrier he grew the more he detested the sight of gold. 

Finally he begged Bacchus to take back his gift, now 
so hateful to him (ungrateful thing! ). Bacchus merci- 
fully consented, answering, " Go to the river Pactolus, 
trace the stream to its fountain-head, plunge in, and 
wash away your sin." 

Midas obeyed and lost the golden touch, after which 
he dwelt in the country and becamea worshiper of Pan. 

The story goes on this way: On a certain occasion was bold enough to say that he could play on the 
lyre as well as .-VpoMo, and Apollo accepted the challenge. 

Of course Apollo won, and everybody knew it, but 
Midas said that Pan did. 

.\pollo, enraged, punished Midas by giving him the 
ears of an ass. 

Swift says ; 

" The god of wit, to sliow his grudge. 
Clapped asses' cars upon the judge, 
A goodly pair, erect and wide, 
\Vhich he could neither gild nor hide." 



I ONCE heard of a naughty boy, 

.•\nd robbing birds' nests to him was joy. 

1 Ic found a nest, one bright spring day, 
.And the eggs that were in it he took away. 


When the mother bird came, he heard her cries, 

.\nd the thought of her grief brought tears to his eyes. 

Ife put the eggs back into the nest, 

.\nd he felt in his heart that that was best. 


\Viio does not love a handsome and spirited horse? 
Of all horses in song and story, the most glorious is 
Pegasus. Flying through the air, his silver wings 
touched by the sunlight, he looked like a r.idiant cloud 
flashing .aloft in the blue. Who does not admire a 
lieautiful young hero such as Bellerophon, who by pa- 
lient waiting mastered the wonderful steed, and by his 
courage and d.-iring slew the horrible Chimxra? Pa- 
tiently, day by day, Bellerophon wandered and watched 
'in the outskirts of Corintli, hoping to capture Pegasus, 
liut in vain. So he visited Palyidos, and the seer told 
him to sleep beside the altar of .\thenc. In his sleep 
lie dreamed that Athene appeared to him and gave him 
a golden bridle, bidding liim show it to Poseidon and 
sacrifice an ox to him. \Vaking, Bellerophon found, to 
his joy, the golden bridle beside him. He caught it up 
and hastened to the altar of Poseidon to do as Athene 
had bidden him. Not forgetting his gratitude toward 
.•\thene, he built an altar to her. Then, with the en- 
chanted bridle, Bellerophon hastened to the Fountain of 
Pierian, to hide and wait for the coveted prize. Sud- 
denly, down from the sky flashed Pegasus, to (|uench 
his thirst in the waters of the fountain. Bellerophon, 
knowing now that the gods intended Pegasus to be his, 
coolly slipped the bridle over his head. Pegasus sub- 
mitted gracefully, Bellerophon sprang upon his back, 
and up, up they flew into the azure sky. Such rides as 


they had, skimming over mountain and plain, river and 
sea! But such delight could not continue forever. 
There was work to be done. The kingdom of Lycia 
was being ravaged by a'horrible monster, the Chima;ra, 
with the head of a lion, the body of a goat, and the tail 
of a serpent, and a fiery breath which destroyed all 
came within its reach. To slay this monster, Bellero- 
phon set forth upon Pegasus. Bellerophon soon dis- 




covered the Chimtera by the smoke of its fiery breath, 
and guided Pegasus directly over its head. Pegasus 
paused, circled in the air like an eagle preparing to 
swoop down upon its prey, then darted suddenly down- 
ward and past the hideous creature. With a quick 
movement, Bellerophon drove his spear into the mon- 
ster, and the Chimrera fell dead. And up, up flew 
Bellerophon upon Pegasus into the azure sky. 



The little mer-babies who live in the sea 
Are just as happy as happy can be ; 
For they laugh and frolic in childish glee. 
And when they are tired away they swim 
To a coral tree, and there on a limb 
The sleepy babies can peacefully rest 
In a dear little, pink little seaweed nest. 

The little sea-babies can play with the snails. 
Or ride on the backs of the largest whales ; 
They can hunt for fishes with shining scales. 
Or gently float on the silvery waves. 
Or dive for crabs in the deep-sea caves ; 
But the cozy nook that the babes like best 
Is a dear little, pink little seaweed nest. 




Mercury was a very wise 
baby, and when he was only 
a few hours cUl he under- 
stood everything that was 
said to him. 

On the very first day he 
climbed out of the cradle 
and ran down to the sea- 

There he found a tor- 

He made holes in it and 
strung across it sonte bits 
of seaweed. Then he put 
it to his lips and blew upon 

It made such wonderful 
music that the trees danced 
for joy. The birds stopped 
singing to listen. After a 
while, being tired, he lay on his back on the shore, 
looking around for new mischief. 

.As he lay there he saw a great blue meadow with 
white cows feeding in it. 

They belonged to his brother Apollo. 
Quick as thought he ran after them into a cave, where 
he fastened them in. 

-Apollo was very angry when he found what Mercury 
had done, and complained to his father, Jupi- 
ter. But his brother was such a little baby 
that .\pollo felt ashamed. 

Then Mercury picked up his shell. He 
breathed upon it and made music with it. 
Apollo listened and soon forgot his anger. 
He thought only of the beautiful music. 
Then the big brother and little brother be- 
came friends. .Mercury gave Apollo his lyre. 
-Apollo gave Mercury charge over his cows. 
Vou can often see him driving them over the 
blue meadow of the sky. 

" Well, that is the finest story I have ever 
heard," said Nina. And they ran off to tell 
their mother. 

(.4 Former Prize-winner.) 
Lodged in a crotch of our tall tree. 


It was a rainy day in March, and Harry 
and Nina were feeling very sad because of 
the bad weather, and pouted and cried and said they 
wanted to go out. 

" Why should you go ? " said their mother. " Wliy 
don't you read your nice new story-book ?" 

" Oh, yes," said Nina. They opened the book on 
the first page. The title was " -Apollo's Cows." 

Looking down, they read this : ^lercury was the son 
of Jupiter. His mother's name was Mala. 

She was a goddess so beautiful that flowers sprang up 
wherever she stepped. 

She walked through the meadow and called up the 
flowers from their winter sleep. 

She made the earth beautiful with violets and butter- 

She touched the apple-trees, and the sweet-smelling 
blossoms came out. 

In the lovely month of May Maia takes her walk. 



AGE 10. 

It hung the summer through, 
-And there the old birds sang 

and chirped, 
-And there the young ones 


-Above the clouds of drifting bloom 
It heard the great boughs sigh ; 

The warm wind shook it lovingly 
-As it passed gently by. 

From out its swaying flower-gemmed 

It saw the green things grow ; 
The blue sky smiled at it above. 

The blossoms from below. 

And such a burst of melody 
Through all tlie garden rang. 

It seemed that every living thing 
Raised up its voice and sang. 





And all the earth ratig too, in joy. 

As far and wide it crept, 
And once a little baby laughed, 

.\nd once a strong man wept. 

And up and up, and ever up. 

Like smoke, the sweet song curled, 

And singing in a little nest 
Made singing for the world. 




Orpheus was the son of Apollo and Calliope, 
and inherited from them their wonderful genius 
for music and poetry. When he played on his 
lute the trees and mountains bowed before him 
and the wild beasts became tame. 

He fell in love with a beautiful maiden named 
Eurydice. They were married and lived happily for a 
short time. One day as Eurydice was walking in the 
woods, she met a youth whose .idmiration proved so 
distasteful to her that she turned and ran away. As she 
was running she stepped upon a venomous snake that 
bit her in the foot. She died shortly afterward in fear- 
ful agony. 

Orpheus was heartbroken. He sought Jupiter and 
so moved him with his entreaties that he gave him per- 
mission to go into his dark kingdom and try to persuade 
Pluto to return Eurydice to life, warning the musician 
nt the same time it was a dangerous journey. 


Orpheus crossed the Styx and entered the lower world. 
At the entrance he met Cerebus, the three-headed dog, 
who commenced to bark and snap. Orpheus calmed 
him with his music, and the magic sounds penetrated 
into the depths of Hades, making the condemned 
pause in their weary rounds of toil. Orpheus then went 
before Pluto and so moved him by his music that he 
consented to restore Eurydice to life on the condition 
that Orpheus, in going out, should not look back. He 
joyfully consentecl to this and Eurydice was given back. 
But he was so incredulous at the fact that he could not 
refrain from glancing back to see if she was following, 

Vol. XXXI.— 84. 


only to see her fade slowly and sorrowfully b.ack into 
the shadows. 

After this, Orpheus being unable to get back his wife, 
never, on account of his grief, played the happy strains 
he was accustomed to. 

One day a band of Pan's playmates seized him and 
forced him to accompany their dance with his music. 
But the sadness of his strains so enraged them that 
they murdered him and threw him into the river. As 
he floated down the stream his lips murmured : 

" Eurydice, Eurydice," for even in death he could 
not forget her. 

The trees and woods took up the words : 

] " Eurydice, Eurydice." 

The gods took his lute and placed it in 
the heavens, and it became the constellation 


(AGE 10). 

Up in a gnarled old apple-tree 

I found a little nest ; 
And here a robin sang to me 

A song of hope and rest. 

And in the nest, on a morn in May, 
I found three birdlets sweet, 

And these I watched from day to day. 
And brought them crumbs to eat. 

Many things may pass away. 
And m.any things may change. 

But in my mind will ahuays stay 
The robin's nest at the grange. 



Teddy was a funny child; 
He lived upon tlie desert wild. 
He found a nest, not in a tree. 
Where all true nests should always be, 
But right out in the sand and sun, 
And in it was an egg— just one. 
It was so large, and big, and round, 
Ke scarce could lift it from the ground. 
He took it from the ostrich tall. 
And made an omelet for them all. 




'heading for may." by STANISLAUS F. McNEILL, AGE 13. 


No. I. A list of 
those whose work 
would have been 
published had space 

No. 2. A list of 
those whose work en- 
titles them to honor- 
able mention and en- 


Anita M. Bradford 
Melicent Eno Huma- 

Dorothy Walker 
Helen Van Dyck 
Dorothy Chapman 
Margaret Stevens 
Mary Blossom Bloss 
Camilla Prentice 
Mary Atwater 
Florence Knight 
Kathleen Gaffney 
Mabel Guernsey 
Kaiherine B. Carter 
Ramona Janney 
Susan Warren Wilbur 
Dorothea Bechtel 
Mabel Robinson 
Margaret M. Sher- 
Eleanor G. McGrath 
Dorothy Stabler 
Marie Wennerberg 
H. Mabel Sau-^er 
Elsie F. Weil 
Harvey Deschere 
Blanche H. Leeming 
Louisa F. Spear 
Jacob Z. Schmucker 
Maud Dudley Shac- 

Jeannie R. Sampson 
Marguerite Eugenie 

Ethelinda Schafer 
Marguerite Stuart 
Helen Spear 


Eleanor Myers 
Marie Louise Mohr 
Lucia Warden 
Gertrude E. Ten 

Noeline Haskins 
Samuel A. Hartwell 
Gwindelene Le Mas- 
sen a 
Lois Gilbert Suther- 
Elizabeth P. Bigelow 
Sadie Gellman 
Gertrude Madge 
George Warren Brett 
F. G. Nichols 

Viola Cushman 
Maijorie Marrin 

Marie Armstrong 
Kathryn Macy 
Walter S. Mar\-in 
Kathr>'n Sprague De 

Edward Ridgely 

Marjorie Macy 
Mildred S. Martin 
Lucy B. Scott 
Marguerite Helen 

Alice Bartholomew 
Mary Patton 
Jane M. Graw 
Katherine S. Farring- 

Irwin H. Freeman 
Jack Howard 
Marguerite M. 

Rebecca Faddis 
Jessie Freeman Foster 
Elizabeth Lee 
Bernice Frye 
Sybil Kent Stone 
John Sherman 
Edith Louise Smith 
Dorothy P. M. 

Gertrude L Folts 
Emily Rose Burt 
Gladys Knight 


Margaret Douglass 

Florence Best 
Lin a Houser 
Jessie E. Wilcox 
Mary F. Morton 
John Gatch 
Olive H. Lovett 
Elizabeth R. Eastman 
John Fry 
Daisy Deutsch 
Gettine Vroom 
David A. Sterling 
Elizabeth Wilcox 

Mary C. Tucker 
Anna Gardiner 
Frances Lubbe Ross 
Mabel V. Reed 
Marion C. Stuart 
Emelyn Ten Eyck 
Maijorie Stewart 
Irene Bowen 
Anna C. Heffem 
Frances C. Minor 
Margaret M. Albert 
Edith Maccallum 
Morris G. White, Jr. 
Mary Parker 
Joseph N. Du Barry 
Dorothy C. Harris 
Constance Moss Van 


Genevieve Morse 

Edward J. Sawyer 

Fred Baruch 

Elsa Clark 

William Nelson 

Harriette Kyler 

Katherine Kurz 

Eleanor Espy Wright 

Zenobia Camprubi 

Mildred Newman 

Alma Wiesner 

Rosalie Ayleit Samp- 

Ona Ringwood 

Gertrude Louise Can- 

Helen C Wilcox 

Jean N. Craigmile 

Ivy Varian Walshe 

Helen J. Simpson 

Lola Hall 

Kenneth E. Day 

Agnes Dorothy 

Eva L. Pitts 

Frances Reenshaw 

Gladys Burgess 

Ada "Bell 

Louise Miller 

Elizabeth Moos 

Katharine J. Bailey 

Julia Ford Fiebeger 

Elizabeth Toof 

Helen Mabry 

Boucher Ballard 


Rita Wanninger 

Jessie Lee Rial 

James Brewster 

Louise Edgar 

Jean Forgeus 

Alice Braunlich 

Alma Rothholz 

Annie Eales 

Oscar D. Stevenson 

James Pryor 

Marion E. Baxter 

Alice Lorraine An- 

Lelia S. Goode 

Twila A. McDowell 

Eugenie Ward Root 

William G. Maupin 

Jessie Vida Gaffga 

Robert Gillett 

Donald K. Belt 

Laura Brown 

Beatrice Frye 

Allen Frank Brewer 

Marjorie H. Sawyer 

Dorothy Le Due 

Emma D. Miller 

S. F. Moodie 

Anne Kress 

Elizabeth Campbell 

Marion L. Decker 

Edith Pine 

Roth Clansing 

Dorothy Ferrier 

Mary Peraberton 

May Henrietta 

Alfred H. Sturtevant, 

Edna Wells 

Margaret Jacques 

Caroline Ballard Tal- 

Ruth Ashmore Don- 

Lenora Branch 

Mary Washington 

Kathleen A. Burgess 

Hilda M. Ryan 

Margaret Grant 

Rose Marie Wise 

Jean Russell 

George Huntington 
Williams, Jr. 

Ruth S. Goddard 

Nellie Foster 

Katharine Monser 

Madelaine Bunze 

Robert W. Wood 

Robert Hammer- 

Lydia B. Ely 

Phillippa E. Ridgely 

Clara B. Fuller 

Simon Cohen 

William Laird Brown 

Henry Goldstein 

Marcia Frances Gund- 


Helena B. Pfeifer 
Marjorie Rigby 
Mary T. Atwater 
Beatrix Buel 
Byron B. Boyd 
Newton Rigby 
Margery Bradshaw 
J, S. Lovejoy 
Dorothy Sherman 
Katherine Dulcebella 

Bennie Hasselman 
Katherine Gibson 
Helen O- Chandler 
William C. Kennard 
Olive Mudie Cooke 
Beatrice Darling 
Margaret Wood 
Thomas Nast Craw- 
Eleanor Keeler 
Theodore L. Fitz- 

Bessie T. Griffith 
Florence Marion Hal- 

Phoebe Hunter 
H. de Veer 
William C. Engle 

Melville C. Levey 

Josephine L. Bonney 
Mary Cooper 
Helen M. Brown 
Raymond S. Frost 
Margaret A. Dobson 
Franklin Ford 
Elizabeth C. Freedley 
Henry C. Hutchings 
Mary Weston Wood- 
Helen A. Fleck 
Florence Murdoch 
Lucy E- B. Mac- 
Mildred Curran Smith 
Jessie C. Shaw 
Marguerite Wood 


Charlotte Brate 
Willard F. Stanley 
Cornelius Savage 
Grace Wardwell 
Bensen Hagerman 
Emily C. Stetson 
Mary Klauder 
Phyllis Lyster 
Elsa Vandermeylen 
Louise Megilvra 
Charlotte Nourse 
Gladys Blackman 
Florinda Kiester 
Richmond Reith 
Edward L. Duer 
Almyr Ballentine 
John Paulding Brown 
Helen E. Walker 
Muriel Nast Crawford 
Thomas Nast Porter 
John WilUam Roy 

David R. Winans 
Lewis S. Combes 
Herbert W. Warden 
Henry Dupaul 
Doris Ratchelor 
Gene\-ieve Allen 
Eric Ferguson 
Glenn Stanley 
Ruth Adams 
Bruce K. Steele 
Winifred Hutchings 
Irene Ross Lough- 
Lawrence H. Phelps 
Louise Paine 
James Allison 
Ernest Whipple 
Linda Scarritt 
Margaret Richardson 
J. Dunhana Town- 
Prudence Ross 
Ethel Osgood 
Gladys Eigelow 
Frances ^Iorrissey 
Eleanor S. Wilson 
Madeleine H.Webster 
Elizabeth McKim 
Eleanor Gardener 
Carl Sherman 
Leiand H. Lyon 
C. O. Brown 
Bessie B. Styron 
Raymond Foley 
Winifred D. Bogehold 
John Sinclair 
Marcia Gardner 
William Schufer 
Frances Russell 
Mildred Willard 
Aline J. Dreyfus 
Isabel Howell 
Bernard H. Feldstein 
Hettie Margetson 
Florence Gitrdiner 
Guinevere Hamilton 

Queenabelle Smith 
W. Hoffman 
Helen Wilson 

Sara D. Eurpe 
Julia Wilder Kurtz 
Margaret McKeon 
Saia Ay res 
Ethel Messer\ y 
Ruth E. Hutchins 
Emily W. Brown 
Nancy E. Lathrop 
Florence Sherk 
Marvin Earle Adams 
Elizabeth Osborne 
Dorothea M. Dexter 
Cordner H. Smith 
Elizabeth A. Gest 
Adelaide Durst 
Elizabeth Otis 
W. Clinton Brown 
Meade Bolton 
James Frank Dolin 
Walter E. Huntley 
Anna Constance 

William G. Whitford 
Ella Elizabeth Preston 
Julius E. Daniels 
Waller V. Johnson 
B. S. Mackieman 
Joseph B. Mazz.inno 
John A. Hellwig 
Gladys L'E. Moore 
Frances R. Newcomb 
Lee McQuade 
Anna Zucker 
Riu Wood 
Phcebe Wilkinson 
Bessie Stockton 
Elizabeth Bacon 

Thomas H. Foley 
Rachel Rude 


Mildred R. Betts 
Paul W. Haasis 
Grace Archer 
Be.=sie P. Frick 
Samuel Stocker 
Nora Saltonstall 
H. Clayton Beaman, 

H. Ernest Bell 
Jean Muriel Batchelor 
John Emlen Bullock 
George H. Pound 
Mary Margaret Groff 
Amy Peabody 
Winifred F. Jones 
Julia H. Shepley 
Charles Spence 
Lawrence V. Sheri- 
Eugene W, Scar- 
Lucie Freeland 
Lewis Wallace 
Suzette Ryerson 
Zelie M. Eberstadt 
Cameron Squires 
Henrietta T. Scott 
Robert V. Morse 
Alice Garland 
William George Cur- 
Kenneth Howie 


H. J. Simons 
Mamie S. Goodman 
Margaret Benedict 
Rutherford Piatt 
Freda Messervy 
Isabella Lee Carey 
Alice T. Betts 
Ethel Mason 
Cornelia L. Carey 
Donald C. Armour 
W. Caldwell Webb 
Morrison N. Stiles 
Ellen Day 
Marjorie Betts 


Burt H. Smith 
MnrEuerite Hallowell 
W. N. raft 
Charlotte Morrison 
Margaret Abbott 
Wilham Newton 

Margaret H. Bennett 
Klirabeih Simpson 
Pris<:illa Lee 
Elizabeth Keen 
Cassius M. Clay. Jr. 
Robert M. Woodbury 
Walter D. Ycnawine 
Nettie Barnwell 
Howell D. Sawyer 


Benjamin BerT>', Jr. 
Paul D. Bailey 
Florence Foster 
Elizabeth Palmer 

Charles R. Van Nos- 

Adeline Thomas 
Elizabeth B. Randall 
Lucile C. McHen 
Bessie T. Tappan 
Albert A. Bennett, Jr. 
Helen Howard 
Bruce Htnman 
Marj^ret McKnighl 
Archibalds. Macdon- 




Malcolm Trimble 
Kenneth L. Moore 
Mary Tardy 
Sheila St. John 
Irving Babcock 
Hardenia R. Fletcher 
Rexford King 
Eleanor S. Sierrett 
Alice Pine 
I-awrencc Garland 
Constance (irant 
Alice du Pont 
Merccder Huntington 
^L^rg^letite K. Goode 
Annie MacMahon 
Bessie Ballard 
Herbert Dougherty 
George Hill 

No. 701. Louise Thachcr. President ; ^L'»deleine McDowell, Secrc- 
tarj' : nine members. Address, 304 Beacon St-, Boston, Mass. 

No. 70a. Lillian McKinnion. President; liladys Bean, Secre- 
tary ; twelve members. Address, Cor. Payne and Eden Aves., 
Campbell, Cal. 

No. 703. " Orioles." William Larkins, President; William 
Schrufer, Secretary; nine members. Address, 126 W. Hamburg 
St., Baltimore, Md. 

No. 704. " Dinkey Club." Charles Dcssart, President; Ralph 
Earle, Secretary ; six members. Address, Blair Halt, Blairstown, 

No. 705. Wylda Aitken, Secretary, seven members. Address, 
Mt. Hamilton, Cal. 

No. 706- Cecilia Clack, President ; Edna Crane. Secretary' ; 
five members. Address, Mcnio Park, Cal. 

No. 707. " Four Little Competitors." Martha Reed, President; 
Dorothy Fox, Secretary; four members. Address, 8 Bloomficld St., 
Lexington, Mass. 

No. 708. '' Half Moon." Morris Bishop, President; Rus-sell 
Livermorc. Secretary; eight members. Address, 191 Palisade Ave.. 
Yonkcrs, N. V. 

No. 709. Dorothy Downey, President: Bonnie Bonner, Secrc- 
(ery ; five members. Address, London, Ohio. 


Note. We have been obliged to discontmue ''Correspondents 
Wanted " for the reason that it outgrew our space. 

A number of League members have asked for a musical competi- 
tion, but this also would require more space than our page limit will 
permit. Indeed, «s the Roll of Honor No. i shows, we could fill 
the entire magazine each month with work worth printing, and it 
often happens that work omitted is quite as good as that used, 
though perhaps somewhat less adapted to the League audience. 

Winchester, England. 

Dear St. Nicholas: lam s little English girl, but my mother 
is American, and I like to believe I am. I love you, and think you 
far and away the best magazine ever published. We have several 
bound volumes of you, and take you in regularly. There are five 
of us — three boys and two girls, I am the youngest but one. I 
love your department Books and Reading, for I am a great book- 

I have a " Brownie" camera, but 
do not lake good enough photos to 
send to you. I hope to some day, 

I remain, your devoted reader, 
Gertrude Madge (age 12). 

Stockholm, Sweden. 
Mv DEAR St. Nicholas : I am an 
American girl staying in Stockholm 
for the winter. It is ver>' interesting, 
and there arc a lot of pretty national 
dances and costumes. I have one 
called Riittviks. The sports are 
mostly skating, and skeeing. which 
is very amusing, I visited an old 
Swcdishcasile((*')rbyhus). and I saw 
the prison of King Erik XIV. It 
was built of thick stone walls, and 
over the old stone fireplace he had 
written some verses. There were 
three rooms which he had for him- 
self. His brother ordered the prison- 
keeper to give him poison in a dish 
of pea-soup, and he died in the 

Your loving reader, 
Gladys Virginia STEUART(age la). 



Other interesting and appreciative letters have been received from 
Gladys Hodson, Josephine Stiven, Theodosia D. Jessup, Marie V. 
ScanLin, Hcnr>' C. Hulchins. Thomas H. De Cator, Ellen M. Saxe, 
Edna Stevens, Margaret Colgate. Muriel M. K. E. IJouglas, Karl 
Dodge, Arthur M. Stevens, Florence Doane, Laura Whittlesey, 
Lucy K. Wheclock, Carol>*n L. Palmer, Frances S. Usher, Harvey 
Ueschere. Agnes Lowe, Beth Howard, Avis Ingalls, Rose Butler. 
Margaret Uobson, Fayetta Crowley, Gerald Pyle, Olive A. Granger, 
Harold H. Davis, S. F. Moodie, E. Lawrence Palmer, Shirley 
Willis, and Helen Ranney Sholes. 


The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver 
badges each month for the best poems, stories, drawings, 
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle-answers. Also cash 
prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge winners who 
shall again \\in first place. 

Competition No. 56 will close May 20 (for foreign 
members May 25). The awards will be announced 
and prize contributions published in St. Nicholas for 

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. 
Title : " Dreams " or " Day Dreams." 

Prose. Article or story of not more than four hun- 
dred words. Title: " My CampingTrip." Mustbetrue. 

Photograph. .\ny size, interior or e.xterior, mounted 
or unmounted, no blue prints or negatives. Subject, 
" Happy Days." 

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash 
(not color), interior or exterior. Two subjects, " Study 
from Animal Life" and "A Heading or Tailpiece for 

Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the 
answer in full. 

Puzzle-answers. Best, neatest, and most complete 
set of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. 

Wild Animal or Bird Photograph. To encourage the 
pursuing of game with a camera instead of a gun. For 
the best pliotograph of a wild animal or bird taken in 
its natural home : First Prize, five dollars and League 
gold badge. Second Prize, three dollars and League 
gold badge. Third Prize, League gold badge. 


-A.NY reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber 
or not, is entitled to League membership, and a League 
badge and leaflet, which will be sent on application. 

Every contribution, of whatever kind, timst bear the 
name, age, and address of the sender, ami be indorsed as 
original " by parent, teacher, or guardian, -cuho must he 
convinced beyond doubt that the 
contribution is not copied, but 
wholly the work and idea of 
the sender. If prose, the num- 
ber of words should also be 
added. These things must 
not be on a separate sheet, 
but on the contribution itself 
—if a manuscript, on the up- 
per 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. 
.\ddress all communications : 

The St. Nicholas League, 
. Union Square, 

New York. 


REGARDING One of the rules that 

MISQUOTATIONS, gven young writers and 
readers should bear in mind is this : " Verify 
your quotations." And, if possible, go to 
the original source rather than to rely on 
other authority. The reason for the rule is 
easy to see. Usually a quotation becomes pop- 
ular because it is worth while, and to misquote 
is often to lose the value of the words. Thus 
people often say, " A little knowledge is a dan- 
gerous thing." But that is not true. All know- 
ledge is worth having, even a little. They mean 
" half-knowledge," or incorrect knowledge, 
which is not really knowledge at all ! What 
Pope wrote was : " A little learning is a dan- 
gerous thing " ; and what he meant was that 
a little learning makes one presumptuous, 
while thorough learning gives humility — an 
idea likewise set forth in the saying that wis- 
dom begins with the feeling that one is ignorant. 

So, verify your quotations for fear you may 
put into currency a counterfeit note. 

At the same time it is to be remembered that 
some few quotations have been improved by 
changes introduced by those who have mis- 
quoted. These improvements are rare, how- 
ever, and it is safest to retain the old forms 
where there is any doubt. 

Another usual misquotation besides that 
mentioned is — 

" The quality of mercy is not strained ; 
It falleth as the gentle dew from heaven " — 

which you may correct for yourself, and then 
may inquire whether it is likely that the popu- 
lar change is an improvement, when the na- 
ture of dew is understood. 

A FATHER'S From the father of a 

ENCOURAGEMENT, young citizen of New York 
comes a letter explaining his very successful 
method of making the reading of good books 
delightful to his son. He says : " I believe it 
is well he should read those books he has be- 
fore acquiring new ones, and so we have entered 
into the following arrangement. For every 
book he reads himself from cover to cover, and 

of which he tells me in a little composition, I 
am to give him a new book of his own choos- 
ing ; the right to veto the choice remaining with 
me, if I do not think the choice a good one." 
There comes with the letter one of the little 
" compositions," showing how this nine-year-old 
boy carries out his part of the agreement. 

The idea seems an excellent one ; but would 
it not be improved if the father also should 
write an opinion of the book, so that his son 
might be guided in his judgment ? It might 
also be a good plan for the father to make sug- 
gestions as to the new book given as a reward 
— especially as the father writes us that his 
son's taste for books is inherited. 

A CORRESPOND- In one letter sent to this 


"FABLES." department a young girl 
writes that she finds " all fables dull," and can- 
not read any except the " Fables in Slang," a 
book that even the author would admit was 
only the merest fooling. Here, it would seem, 
is a taste that needs cultivating. Evidently 
this young reader prefers to read without much 
thinking. Fables are, at their best, wisdom- 
stories. The greatest teachers this world has 
ever seen have chosen fables as the means of 
conveying the deepest thoughts. Some of the 
most beautiful possessions in all literature are 
in this form. Indeed, the subject is so great 
that in writing of it one glances in bewilder- 
ment from one sort of fable to another, wonder- 
ing which to choose in proof of their value. A 
greater part of ancient wisdom lies in fables, 
and in the mythology that is little more than 
one great series of fables — stories conveying 
the views of ancient people on the most im- 
portant teachings about nature and life. Per- 
haps this young girl might learn to change her 
idea of fables if she should read a book like 
Ruskin's " Queen of the Air," an interpreting 
of the myth or fable of Athene, from whom the 
Parthenon at Athens was called the Maiden 
Temple. But it may be this young despiser 
of fables did not quite understand the meaning 
of the term she used. She may not like ^sop's 
Fables. Even then, one feels that this comes 




from hasty, thoughtless reading without setting 
the imagination to work. Let her look for the 
expansion of some of these fables by the poets, 
and we are sure she will find how much lies in 
the brief and suggestive little stories. Who 
will tell her where to find, for example, the 
story of " The Town Mouse and the Country 
Mouse," or of " Belling the Cat," told as some 
good poet tells it ? It seems a pity for any 
young reader to lose the many delights to be 
found in Fableland and its outlying countries. 
COMPANIONSHIP One of the advantages 
IN READING. jf, reading the best books 
is in their fitting themselves to any age. If you 
keep to the so-called "juvenile books "you will 
lose the pleasure of having the sympathy and 
companionship of your parents in the reading. 
The best books are for older and younger read- 
ers alike, and parents and children may enjoy 
them together, thus doubling the pleasure of 
reading. That young readers love to discuss 
the books they read is evident from the letters 
sent to this department. It is enjoyable to find 
whether your views of a book, its incidents and 
characters, are shared by others. Agreement 
is gratifying, and disagreement is interesting, 
even if discussion should fail to convince either 
that the other has taken the correct view. 

KiNGSLEY'S This book is a good illus- 

•■ WATER BABIES." (ration that "one man's 
meat is another's poison." Some readers say, 
" I think it is babyish; I don't see anything in 
it." Some write, " I cannot find anything I 
like in it ; it seems very foolish to me." Yet 
here is a letter from one who certainly finds 
more than one good quality in the same volume : 

Richmond, Ind. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Your rcciuest for opinions on 
" Water Babies " gives me an opportunity of speaking a 
word for the book I never tire of commending. Al- 
though I am eighteen, I recently read it for the third or 
fourth time, and enjoyed it as much as when I read it for 
the first, about eight years ago. Not only has the fasci- 
nating story lost none of its charm, but my enjoyment 
has rather increased, since I am now able to see what 
qualities made the book so delightful to me when I was 
younger. For instance, I now see how much the easy 
conversational style adds. Was there ever such spon- 
taneous, irresistible humor or such vivid imagination ? 
And see with what art Kingslcy has put in details of 
natural history and what not until his pictures seem so 
real that to turn from one and behold a real Water Baby 

would be no surprise ! Everything is so novel, so orig- 
inal, and yet so natural that I am at a loss to see how 
any one could not like the book. Where can you find 
any finer literature than the description of Tom's journey 
over the moor, or where anything more ridiculously 
funny than those curious lists of things, the remedies the 
poor doctor had to take, or all that nonsense about those 
remarkable back stairs ? I have heard it said that " Water 
B.tbies " means nothing to younger children, but I really 
think that if some older person reads it aloud to them, 
they will enjoy it as much as they would in later years. 
I say " aloud " because the long words are truly 
formid.ible but do not detract from the story when the 
discouraging influence ihcy might exert on the inexpe- 
rienced little rc.tdcr is obviated. 

V'ours sincerely, GoRUO.N II. GRAVES. 

Now — what is to be done ? Shall we quote 
the old Latin proverb, " De gustibus non dis- 
putandum est " — "There is no use in argument 
as to tastes" ? Or shall we content ourselves 
with the common-sense conclusion that different 
books suit different minds ? There seems 
nothing strange in the belief that even a very 
excellent book may bring no message to you 
or to me. So let us be charitable with one 
another's tastes in reading, as in other things ; 
remembering, however, that we all admit the 
possibility of good taste and bad taste, and be- 
lieve bad tastes may be refined. 
THE REPORT FROM In the Hcwspapers often 
LIBRARIANS. appear lists of the books 
called for by the public. To one who cares 
what children are reading, it is very discourag- 
ing to see under the head of" Juvenile Fiction " 
the same old favorites repeated week in and 
week out. There is no reason to criticize these 
books ; they are excellent books : but children 
owe it to themselves to widen their horizon a 
little. Librarians say that children keep calling 
for the same authors merely through mental 

We don't believe that St. Nicholas readers 
do this. They seem, by their letters, to be 
reading much more widely and more wisely 
than these library reports indicate. If the St. 
Nicholas boys and girls are wiser, it would be 
kind of them to help their friends and play- 
mates to know there are more than half a dozen 
writers for the young, and that some of the best 
books for young people may be found among 
those not appearing every week in the library 
lists. Who will do this missionary work ? 



Re.^ders of the opening article in this number will 
be interested in the fact that there is in New York a 
church that has not only copied the beautiful Magdalen 
Tower of Oxford, but for a quarter of a century has bor- 
rowed its mid-air sunrise service. There is this differ- 
ence, however: the Chapel of the Good Shepherd, in 
Chelsea Square, New York City, holds its service on Eas- 
ter morning, while that of Magdalen College takes place 
on the 1st of May. It is not unlikely that other Amer- 
ican churches may, if their architecture makes it possible, 
adopt some form of this beautiful service. 

Dixo.v, California. 

Dear St. Nicholas: My sister lone has taken 
you for twelve years, but she has given you to me now. 

I go to school and I am in the fourth grade. Sister is 
in the last year of the high school. We live three and 
a half miles from Dixon. 

I go to school in the country and have lots of fun. I 
go to school on horseback. I have a horse and pony. 
The pony is young and has just been broken. I helpea 
to break her myself. She is a pretty little thing. 

Psyche is my other horse's name. She is a bay, and 
I ride her too. She " nickers " when I come near the 
barn, and is still when I put the bridle on, for I often 
ride bareback. I also have a black horse. He is Dana. 

I guess you think I have a lot of horses and ponies 
for only being nine years old; but I will be ten the 31st 
of December. 

Fritz is my dog. He and I love each other dearly. 
But I love Psyche the best of all, for I have had her 
the longest. 

Your loving reader, 

Katherine Garnett. 

Camp Connell, Calbayog, Samar, P. I. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I thought you would like to 
know about the Philippine children who live on this 
island of Samar. 

When we first came over here there were no quarters, 
so we had to live in Calbayog. Every day four or five 
little girls would come to my window and say, " Hello! 
Frances, you like me ? Frances, come in," meaning 
come out and play. 

They know how to talk quite a little English, and can 
sing "The Star-Spangled Banner" and many other 
American songs. 

When it rains, even when it is thundering and light- 
ning, all the Philippine children take their baths in the 
mud-puddles, and look like a lot of birds splashing 

There is a very interesting plant here called "sensitive 
plant," which grows in great abundance on this island. 
The other day a prisoner escaped and went through 
some of it, leaving a trail behind him made by the plant 
closing its leaves wherever it was touched by the man ; 
so the guards were able to find him by following the 
closed leaves, which led them to deep grass in which he 
was hidden. 

Sincerely yours, 
Frances Sladex Bradley (age 9). 

The Cove, Sydney, Cape Breton. 
My dear St. Nicholas : We are going to tell you 
about what we do in the Christmas holiday. The day after 
we got home we went out sailing in our little boat, the 
Snow Flake, which is something unusual at this time of 
the year. One thing that was great fun that we did was 
to put the dory on a sled and pull it along on the ice, so 
that if we should go in we should be safe. And then we 
would take the dory and run alongside to the edge of the 
ice, and then we would tumble in it, and then we would 
go splash into the water and come very nearly to upset- 
ting. I guess we will end now, because we have to go 
to tea. My little brothers and sister send their love. 
Always your loving friend, 

Kenneth and Hugh Duggan. 

Dear .St. Nicholas : I have been reading you for 
almost a year. My mother once had a cat and it went 
away and stayed a year, and then came back as if nothing 
had happened, and walked upstairs and lay down for a 
good long rest. I am eight years old and can read all 
your stories myself. 

Your affectionate reader, 

Karin Bi'SCH. 

Bennington, Vt. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I have taken you for five or 
six years, and enjoy you very much. My favorite stories 
have been "The Story of Betty," "Quicksilver Sue," 
" Josie and the Chipmunk," and then, of course, I liked 
all of those delightful stories complete in one number. 

Oh, what a time I and my two sisters, who are both 
younger than I am, have in the summer-time ! But when 
we were up at camp we had the most fun. 

Our camp was a small farm-house which papa had 
bought in connection with a farm, but it was such a very 
neat, nice little house that we all thought we would like 
to sleep there. So we took six camp-cots, some tables, 
and six chairs, and the sweetest little stove, and there we 
slept for nearly a week — mama, our governess, my two 
sisters, and myself. 

Such fun as we all did have, cooking, sweeping, and 
washing the dishes! .^t least, mama did the cooking and 
our governess washed the dishes, but still we helped 

On the whole, however, we all hope to go back next 

Some other time I will tell you about my two pets, 
my puppy and my pony. 

I remain, your affectionate reader, 

Susan E. Colgate. 

Interesting letters, which lack of prevents our 
printing, have also been received from : Marion G. Sted- 
man,' Charles Evans, Pendleton Schenck, Adolph 
Wydam, John B. F. Bacon, Robert M. Driver, Valen- 
tine Newton, Theresa L. Branch, Cecelia Wulsin, Carl 
Grimes, Mary Blanche Alston, Bessie Evelyn Alston, 
.\delaide Jones, Florence Ramsdell, Walton Musson, 
Eric McL., Willoughby M. Babcock, Janet E. Steven- 
son, Leonard W. Doyle, Rulh Rosevelt, Pauline Beck- 
with, Margaret E. Sloan, and Katherine S. Sands, Helen 
Graham, Agnes Briggs, Harriette E. Cushman. 




Word-square, i. Lilac. 3. Image. 3. Label. 4. Agent. 5. 

A Magic Squarb. Bcpin at second L in lowest line: " Ivoui- 
siana Purchase Exposition." Begin at J in top line: "Jefferson 
and Napoleon." 


iF.,F. X MAI 1 1> K 

'ly:< V I N 1. 1 y 


(■ r. ^\ D r 1'. u o.Ki 

Beheadings and Curtailings. Easter, i. Pr-cvc-nt. a. 
Cr-cat-or. 3. Es-sen-ce. 4. St-ate-ly. 5. El-cva-le. 6. Bc-are-rs. 

Rebus Letter. My dc.-ir boy : Perhaps as you arc in bed, and 
are not too busy, you will be glad to receive the first letter I have 
sent you for many moons. We, your aunt and I, heard of your ill- 
ness, from time to time, and need not tell you that inform.ition of 
your rapid recovery delighted us greatly. You have made up your 
mind before this that a bed is stupid except to sleep in. Wc hope 
you will soon get around again, and be busy with bat and ball, golf, 
tennis and automobihng, as before. Your friend and uncle, Be.nja- 


Double Acrostic. Primals, Christmas Carol : finals, Charles 
Dickens. Cross-words: i. Civic. 2. Heath. 3. Rhoda. 4. Idler. 
5. Shoal. 6. Taste. 7. Muses. 8. Asked. 9. Soldi. 10. Conic. 
II. Alack. 17. Rhyme. 13. Orion. 14. Larks. 

" 3- 

Charade. Block-head. ("harade;. Phil-an-thro-py. 

Double Zigzag. From i to 2, Arbor Day ; 3 to 4, Richmond. 
Cross-words: i. Acrid. 2. Crane. 3. Bilbo. 4. Rooms. 5. 
Reach. 6. Edict. 7. Alibi. 8. Myrrh. 

II. Alack. 12. Rhyme. 13. Orion. 14. Larks. 

Concealed Zigzag. Confucius, t. Cable. 2. North. 
Dense. 4. Cleft. 5. Hindu. 6. Track. 7. Friar. 8. Tunes. 

Novel Double Diagonal. From i to 2, Shakspere ; 3 to 4, 
Dcsdemona. Cross-words: i. Surrender. 2. Sharpness. 3. Slaugh- 
ter. 4. Sickening. 5. Impassive. 6. Decompose. 7. Deserters. 
8. Designers. 9. Candidate, to. Carpenter, zi. Blackmail. 12. 
Clamorous. 13. Macaroons. 14. Orchestra. 

To OUR Puzzlers: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 liast Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all i he Puzzles in the February NrMBEw'were received, before February isth, from " M. McG.*' — Joe Carlada — 
Frances Hunler— Samuel B. Fairbank — Morton T. Hon— "Teddy and Muvver " -- John P. Phillips— Elsie L. Funkhouser— Paul 
lleschere — "Chuck" — Ruth Bartlett — Marian Priestly Toulmin — Jo and I — Marian and Nathalie Swift — Frederick tireenwood — 
Virginia Custer Canan — " Duluth " — Grace Haren —"Johnny Hear" — Christine Graham — Louise K. Cowdrey — " Allil and Adi" — 
Nessie and Freddie — Mary Beale Brainerd — " Imp and Angel " — Rose Caroline Huff— Agnes Cole — George T. Colman — F. H. A. 
and C. C. A. 

Answers to Puzzles in the February Number were received, before February 15th, from S. L. Tillinghast, 1 — A. M. Reed, 
1— R. E Crane, i — F. Bradshaw, i — L. F. Lacy, i— Harold L. Godwin, 4 — R. T. Bonsall, i — L Williams, i — K. C. Johnson, i — 
Edward M. Armsby, 8 — R. C. Case, i — M. Skelding, i — F. Frank, 1— V. Cooley, i — C. S. Hanks, i —Dorothea .M. Dexter, 6— M. 
B.inks, 1 — Amy Kliot Mayo, 6 — C. Vaughan, i — L. W. Clarke, i — C. L. Maxham, i — Sybil Fleming, 2 — C. R. Buckhout, i — A. 
K. Brough, I — Walter S. Marvin, 5— Ethel H. Sturdevant, 4 — Ruth MacNaughton, 10— M. Harding, I — R. M. Baker, Jr , I — p. 
E. Durell, I — Howard Smith, 10 — Amy Wade, 3 — W., i — Miriam Daniels, 5 — A. English, i — Irma Gehres, 8 — Ross M. Craig, 
7 — L. Case, I — Bessie S. Gallup, 1 1 — Marg;iret C. Welby, 9 — M. G. Collins, 1 — E. G. Freeman, 1 — R. Sumner, i — Marian Gray, 
10— J. Prime, I — Si. B. Carroll, i. 

head of alion, thebodyof a the tail of adragon. 
5. A substance made by bees. 10. Anything bought 
cheap. II. A keeping or guarding. 12. A strongman. 
13. A vivid color. 

From I to 2 and 3, and from I to 4 and 3, each name 
a President ; from 3 to 5 and 6, and from 3 to 7 and 6^ 
each name a historian. ALICE K.NOWLES. 


An eye, my /!rs/: my /iist, a bid ; 

Alas, what a confusing game ! 
Perhaps you think the meaning hid — 

'T is not ; for joined they make the same. 



iSi/v€r Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition.) 

3 • 

Cross-words: i. Theme. 2. A Swiss antelope. 3. 
A prickle. 4. \ keeler. 5. Without value. 6. The 
science of life. 7. Something occasionally seen after a 
summer shower. S. A fabulous monster having the 


I. Doubly behead a gentlewoman, and leave an ob- 
struction. 2. Doubly behead to deal with, and leave to 
consume. 3. Doubly behead Ihe flesh of a pig, salted 
and smoked, and leave to peruse. 4. Doubly behead to 
swim, and leave a grain. 5. Doubly behead sharp, and 
leave to free. 6. Doubly behead an article of furniture, 
and leave a tune. 7. Doubly behead an old language, 
and leave a metal. 8. Doubly behead a moment, and 
leave a summer necessity. 9. Doubly behead inflated, 
and leave to possess. 10. Doubly behead a tendon, and 
leave novel. 11. Doubly behead a portable chair, and 
leave a masculine nickname. 12. Doubly behead an 
.instrument for threshing, and leave to trouble. 13. 
Doubly behead an inlet from a river, and leave a pro- 

The initials of the thirteen little words will spell two 
familiar words. 






(In this story are concealed the names of twenty-three 
kitchen utensils.) 

How the athlete apothecary called Sam, ugly as he 
was, ever came to have so pretty a little daughter as is 
Kittie Baskett, let me tell you, it is big riddle enough! A 
maid of such airy grace she is! Her papa, ill though he 
can afford it, dresses her richly. To-day she wore a hat 
of chip (it cherry-colored), on its top a nodding plume, 
feathers in a sort of arc upon its brim, a dainty bow 
lying over one side, a reddish pansy, and ribbons, each 
like a bright ray of light. She wears the prettiest little 
dress I ever saw, while her mother dresses magnifi- 
cently. As to velvet, it formed her dress train, ermine- 
bordered. A pretty handkerchief, or kerchief, crossed 
her bosom, fastened by a clasp I derided before I knew 
its real value. Little Kittie's manners are marked with 
a glad levity, and even when asleep, latent mischief can 
be detected in her face. Sometimes upon her head is 
her dainty bonnet, fastened under her chin, a close-tied 
knot of brown ribbon, under which coquettish affair her 
pretty head will dip pertly in a gay bow to her friends. 
But I must stop, otherwise I would poke rather slowly 
through this chronicle of her charms. mysticalia. 


{Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition.) 


head a musical instrument, and leave a sailor. 12. 
Triply behead a curious tropical plant, and leave con- 
cealed. 13. Triply behead to go over again, and leave 
to consume. 14. Triply behead harmony, and leave a 
measure of wood. 15. Triply behead to wander in 
search of food, and leave epoch. 16. Triply behead 
tan, and leave to scorch. 17. Triply behead a city of 
India, and leave a small gulf. 18. Triply behead to terrify, 
and leave the whole quantity. 19. Triply behead the 
edge, and leave a machine for separating the seeds from 
cotton. 20. Triply behead a Swiss lake, and leave a 
feminine name. 21. Triply behead a bulwark, and leave 
a portion. 22. Triply behead a spicy seed, and leave at 
a distance. 23. Triply behead disguise, and leave a 
passage of Scrinture. 24. Triply behead a fop, and leave 
an instrument for adjusting the hair. 25. Triply behead 
disgrace, and leave respect. 

The initials of the twenty-five short words will spell 
the name of a very popular book. 



(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition. ) 

Example : Syncopate, or take out, the two middle 
letters from a ruler, and leave a break. Answer, 
Re-ge-nt, rent. 

I. Syncopate to disclose, and leave genuine. 2. Syn- 
copate idea, and leave part of the day. 3. Syncopate a 
royal dwelling, and leave gait. 4. Syncopate form, and 
leave flame. 5. Syncopate evil spirits, and leave caves. 
6. Syncopate help, and leave a rocky ridge. 7. Synco- 
pate active, and leave a flower. 8. Syncopate afiection- 
ate, and leave protracted. 9. Syncopate to mix, and 
leave a measure of length. lo. Syncopate discharging 
a debt, and leave a sudden pain. 



Cross-words: i. The system of a decimal currency. 
2. Pertaining to a demon. 3. The act of declining. 4. 
To deprive of color. 5. Becomingly. 6. Slanderous. 
7. The act of plucking off. S. The act of diminishing. 
9. Earnest and solemn entreaty. 10. The act ofinviting. 

From I to 2, the name of a day in May ; from 3 to 4, 
an elegiac poem by Tennyson. 



{.Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition.) 

I. Triply behead a swinging bed, and leave to ridi- 
cule. 2. Triply behead to tell, and leave a fixed allow- 
ance. 3. Triply behead folly, and leave meaning. 4. 
Triply behead clumsy, and leave a division of a hospital. 
5. Triply behead to observe, and leave frozen water. 6. 
Triply behead shame, and leave charm. 7. Triply be- 
head a worm, and leave obtained. 8. Triply behead a 
dried grape, and leave iniquity. 9. Triply behead a 
brave man, and leave an exclamation. 10. Triply be- 
head to perplex, and leave discovered. II. Triply be- 


14 2 

■ 15 







6 '. 
19 7 





■ 23 


24 12 

'3 • 

Cross-words: i. Remote. 2. Signification. 3. To 
dim. 4. Spirits of hartshorn. 5. Propriety. 6. Mid- 
dle. 7. To display. 8. Sure. 9. A portable lock. 10. 
Abducts. II. Shining. 12. New Englanders. 13. 
More youthful. 

From I to 13, a holiday in May; from 14 to 24, an- 
other name for this holiday. 

E. ADELAIDE HAHN (League Member). 





Vol. XXXI. 

JUNK. 1904. 

No. 8. 

Sill 1 ri.iaoCK ol' lATE. 

By Ai.BF.Ki Bkiei.ow Paine. 

" But I really do think I might win witli the other hand, it mii;hl prove uncommonly 

you out of it, Kleanor Fair." good — so good as to be startling to her class- 

" .And I just know that I should carry off the mates and instructors. As for Kate Conklin, 

prize if you would n't compete, Grace Martin." 
Kate Conklin threw back over her shoulder 

a mass of w onderfui black hair. 

" And I am perfectly positive that neither of 

you will withdraw from the contest," she said. 
It was Saturday, and these three college girls 

who chummed and roomed together were per- 

she was not regarded as having a part in this 
])articular competition. PLssays and short stories 
were her field. Her prose work commanded re- 
s])ect and even admiration. If she had ever 
written any verse the fact had been carefully 
concealed. The prize had been offered by a 
rich man of the little college town, and perhaps, 

forming the somewhat tedious and likewise in- like the others, she hungered for it in her soul, 

teresting duty of w-ashing their hair. Also, they Fleanor Fair, standing by the open window, 

were discussing the latest prize offer to the where the light spring breeze came in, and 

junior literary class — a splendid edition dc luxe flinging up her of gold to dry, took up 

of Shakspere for the best poem on the genius the thread of discussion. 

or life or work of that great author. Grace " I shall write a sonnet," she said, '• a 

Martin, who was slender and thoughtful, with Shaksperian sonnet, and call it simply ' Shak- 

brown hair and deep hazel eyes, was regarded sjjere.' It will not be merely his life or work, 

as class poet, one to be relied on when the occa- or his genius. It will be something — oh, a 

sion required verse of any sort — lyric or epic, great deal more than anything those words 

grave or gay. But Eleanor Fair, more often, mean I Those words are all too little, too 

because of her complexion, called " fair Elea- puny, when one thinks of what Shakspere 

nor," was a poet, too. Indeed, there were has meant to the world. That 's what I shall 

who thought that Eleanor's verses bore the put into my sonnet. Shakspere the mighty, 

stamp of real genius. For one thing, her work the supreme, the — the omniscient soul of the 

w-as eccentric. One could never tell what ages! It will be Shakspere — Shakspere — 

Eleanor was going to do. Her jjoem, when just Shakspere." 

she was suddenly seized with the idea of a As Eleanor stood with the afternoon sun 

poem, might [)rove uncommonly bad. But, on ])ouring in on her loosened golden hair, that 

Copyright, 1904, by The Centcry Co. .MI rights reserved. 




shimmered back over her upHfted arms and 
hands, — her eyes full of the far earnestness of 
her thought, — she might have been the embod- 
iment of inspiration, one of the sacred nine, 
borne straight from some dim realm of song. 
Grace Martin dropped into her chair. 

" Oh, Eleanor," she said, " if you are going to 
do that, and if you 're going to write as you 
look and talk, I may as well give up now. I 
was going to write about his work, the differ- 
ent sides of it, you know — the comedy and 
tragedy and human insight of it all. 

Magician by whose mystic wand 
We march to music grave or gay — 

Mere puppets we at his command. 
In tragic chant or virelay. 

That was one of the stanzas, though it is n't as I 
want it. It does n't mean just what I wish to 
say, but the rhymes are all right, and it 's allit- 
erative, and the words are pretty good." 

Eleanor had sat down too, and had lost her 
rapt expression. 

"Good! Oh, Grace, I should think they 
were! How in the world do you always get 
that perfect alliteration, and how did you ever 
happen to think of 'virelay'? It is a lovely 
word. Just what does it mean, anyway ? " 

" I don't know, exactly — I have n't looked 
it up. But it 's so pastoral, somehow. I always 
see shepherds blowing their pipes, and lambkins 
skipping, when I hear it. I hope it means some 
kind of merry music. If it does n't I shall have 
to use ' roundelay,' and I don't think that is 
nearly so good, do you ? " 

" Oh, no, of course not." Eleanor had turned 
to the window and was looking thoughtfully 
down on the wonderful old trees and green 
slopes of the college grounds below. " Grace," 
she went on, presently, " don't you suppose it 
will be hard for the judges to decide between 
poems so different as ours will be, and don't you 
think a good many of our friends will be dissat- 
isfied, whatever the decision is ? I was just 
thinking that we might draw lots — long and 
short straws, or something like that — and one of 
us stay out altogether." 

But Kate Conklin put in a word here. 

" You young ladies are most amusing," she 
said, with mock gravity. '• You have calmly 

taken charge of the prizes, and even of the wel- 
fare of the judges, before either of your poems 
is written. How do you know but that I may 
win the prize from both of you ? " 

" Don't joke, Kate ; this is a serious matter," 
said Grace. " I '11 draw lots with Eleanor, if 
you '11 hold the straws." 

" But really, girls, that seems to me child's 
play. Why not write your poems first and let 
me see them ? Perhaps even / may save one, 
possibly both, of you the humiliation of defeat." 

" But I never could suppress a poem after 
writing it," said Eleanor. 

" Nor I," declared Grace. 

Kate smiled in a superior manner. 

" Ah, well, mes enfants, be happy while you 
may. Some day the editor will have a word to 
say as to that. But don't draw straws ; that 's 
so tame. At least make it a contest — a round 
of golf or a game of tennis." 

But the girls shook their heads. " Eleanor 
plays better golf than I do," said Grace. 

" And Grace generally beats me at tennis," 
protested Eleanor. 

Kate Conklin's eyes wandered about the 
walls where leaned or hung the paraphernalia 
of their various games. Over her desk there 
hung an engraving of Shakspere, and just 
above it a pair of racquets somewhat different 
from those of tennis or ping-pong. Tied to 
them were two feather-plumed corks. The 
girl's eyes brightened. 

" Oh, Eleanor ! Grace 1 " she said. " I have 
it! Just the game! Shakspere himself perhaps 
played it. Battledore and shuttlecock ! I 
bought the set a long time ago, just because it 
seemed old and quaint. We '11 go out there 
under the trees, and you shall play." 

" But I never played it in my life," said 

" Nor I," said Grace. 

" All the better. You start even. I will 
look up the rules in my book of games, and 
be umpire. You will decide this momentous 
question in a way that Shakspere might have 
approved. Sweet ladies, it is shuttlecock we 
shall play at now." 

Kate had already taken a worn book from 
her shelves and was turning the pages. 

" Here it is," she announced. " ' The play- 




ers knock the shuttlecock back and lorth, each 
in the direction of the other. Whoever fails to 
strike it gives to the other a bean.' Very sim- 
ple, you see. No comphcated counting — 
just beans. We '11 get them of the cook as we 
go down. Start with ten each, and whoever 
runs out first is out of the game and competi- 
tion simultaneously. We will disport ourselves 
under the greenwood trees. Meantime our 
hair will be drying." 

They descended to the spacious and secluded 
college grounds, stopping a moment at the 

" I 'm sure Grace will beat me," moaned 
Eleanor. " It 's something like tennis, and she 
has such long arms." 

" About as much like tennis as croquet is like 
golf," said Kate, " and that means not at all. I 
play beautiful croquet and, I suppose, the 
poorest golf in the world. No, my dears; I 
should say that you will play with about equal 

The umpire dragged a ratan chair from the 
veranda, and seated herself comfortably. 

" Places, ladies," she called. " Miss Martin 
will serve the first stroke. Ready, play ! " 

The shuttlecock, gently struck by Grace's 
racquet, lightly flew in the air, and was caught 
and returned by Eleanor with a that 
comes from having a keen eye and a quick 
hand. Then back and forth it flew — the girls' 
skill at tennis serving them in good turn, in 
spite of what their umpire had said about the 
difterence in the games. It was true that Grace 
had the longer arms, but Eleanor was supple 
and quick and seemed fully her opponent's 
T'lual. Back and forth — piff, pafif, piff, pafT 
— Hew the feathered missile, while the sweet 
breath of May came across blossoming mea- 
dows, and the afternoon sun mottled the green- 
sward where they played. 

Pift", paff, piff, paff — there! a light puff of 
wind catches the shuttlecock and lifts it so that 
even Grace's long arms do not quite reach. 

" Judgment ! " she calls, with uplifted rac- 

" Fairly missed, Grace," answers the umpire. 
" Eleanor is not to blame for the wind. Sur- 
render the precious bean ! " 

So the bean is delivered, and this time Elea- 

nor serves the first stroke. .\ntl back and 
forth — piff, paff — goes the little shuttlecock, 
until suddenly a branch borne down by the 
breeze lifts it lightly, just away from Eleanor's 
racquet, and drops it on the grass at their feet, 
while all the leaves flutter in applause. 

Then "Judgment ! " calls Eleanor, and once 
more the umpire answers, " Fair ! " 

" Grace struck the shuttlecock toward you. 
She could not know that the tree would take a 
hand in the game. Return the lost bean, 
Eleanor, and proceed." 

It was nearly an hour later when the two 
players dropped upon the green, cool turf to 
rest. They had played continuously since they 
began and were thoroughly exhausted. Yet 
their game was no nearer the end than it had 
been at the start. One bean, sometimes two, 
and once even three, had changed hands, but 
each lime the lost beans had changed back ; 
until now, when the light under the trees was 
growing dim, each had the original ten and the 
question of withdrawing from the class contest 
was as far as ever from a decision. 

" Which means that you are both to com- 
pete," said the umpire. " Fortune evidently 
does not approve of any prearranged surrender 
or distribution of her gifts. No more do I. 
Perhaps in the strictest sense it is n't even 
honest. Our talents are given us to use and 
to strive with. Write your poems, both of 
them, and accept the judges' decision, whatever 
you or your friends may think of it. It 's likely 
that neither of you will win. Little Hattie 
Parker is to be reckoned with, I fancy, in this 
contest, and even I may be seized with an in- 
spiration and beat you both." 

Eleanor laughed lazily. 

" Oh, you silly old Kate," she said. " Of 
course Hattie Parker is clever, and her poems 
are awfully funny, but her style is n't for this 
sort of thing. And as for you, I don't believe 
you ever tried to write a poem in your life." 

" And I 'm too old to begin ; is that it ? Well, 
you know, genius is a slow growth with some, 
and, besides, we are likely to discover new 
powers and possibilities in ourselves almost any 
time. Sudden and severe pressure has been 
known to — " 

" Oh, Kate, don't ! We 're too tired to listen 




to a class lecture, are n't we, Gracie ? We '11 
be good, and write our poems and compete, and 
forgive the result, — whatever it may be, — 
though, of course, I suppose we '11 never be 
quite the same to each other again, whichever 
wins. Now let 's take the beans back to the 
cook, so she can have them in time for dinner." 

Eleanor scrambled up and dragged Grace to 
her feet. A moment later the three, with their 
arms about one another, were entering the old 
college building that had echoed to the light 
footstep and laughter and merry voices of so 
many generations of happy girls. 

As commencement day approached, the big 
room where the three chums dwelt and toiled 
together became the scene of much alternate 
joy and sorrow. Eleanor's sonnet was not 
executed as easily as it had been conceived. 
Many of the lines were wrought in anguish and 
tribulation of spirit. As for Grace, her poem 
was accomplished with more ease, but there 
were moments when it seemed to her utterly 
bad, just as there were other times when it 
seemed a genuine inspiration. The girls did 
not read their poems to each other. Kate, who 
was unusually deferred to, had forbidden that. 
Neither had she permitted the poems to be read 
to her. 

" I should be certain to offer advice," she 
said, " which might be either a good or a bad 
thing for the poem, and neither would be fair. 
No ; I will share your joy or mingle my tears 
with you, but keep your poems concealed. Be- 
sides, as I have remarked before, I may conclude 
to write one myself" 

" You 'd better be at it, then, instead of 
poring all day and half the night over those old 
exams," admonished Eleanor. " You '11 find it 
is n't so easy to write poetry." 

Perhaps Kate did not find it easy to write — 
anything. She had many thoughts — so many 
that her pen did not find their expression a 
light task, even when the problem was one of 
periods, and not of measures and rhymes. But 
sometimes, when the others were vexing them- 
selves with these matters, she would wander out 
alone under the ancient trees, and, lying on the 
grass, would let the winds whisper, and the 
birds sing, and the leaves gossip to her, just as 
long centuries ago they had whispered and sung 

and gossiped, on the banks of the Avon, to 
a boy who, listening to these voices of the air, 
had perhaps first dreamed of the forests of 
Arden. Sometimes she had slipped forth in the 
moonlight, to be for a little under the trees 
alone, to see the moon-rays make fairy jewels 
of the dew, and to picture to herself the Strat- 
ford boy thus watching for Puck and Obcron 
and all the crew that were one day to assemble 
in a midsummer night's dream. It was always 
the boy Shakspere who came to her. True, it 
was the man who had written and moved the 
world ; but it was the boy who had linked him- 
self as one with nature to woo the mystery of 
the night and the wind and the trees — softly 
to lay his ear to the very breathing of the uni- 
verse. She had always meant some day to say 
these things. What if she should say them in 
verse ? Could she do it simply, without strain- 
ing after rhymes and phrases — without lame- 
ness or affectation ? Could she do it in a way 
that would have pleased that boy himself? 
How real he became to her ! Sometimes, as 
fleeting bits and lines strayed through her 
thought, she was ready to ask him if thus it 
was he had dreamed in that long-ago time, and 
if it was in such measure he would wish her to 
tell of it now. 

And .so the days passed and the afternoon of 
commencement came. On the crowded pro- 
gramme the " Shakspere Poem " competition 
by the junior literary class had been set down, 
but not the names of those who were to com- 
pete. It was a feature that came after the 
reading of the various graduation papers of the 
seniors, and really closed the exercises of the 
day. Among the class-members the general 
feeling was that the reward would go to Grace 
Martin unless Eleanor Fair .should come for- 
ward, as she was likely to do, with one of her 
startling things that came nobody could tell 
how or when, and from a source of inspiration 
equally mysterious. Of course others would 
have poems — little Hattie Parker, for one; but 
they would be offered more as a feature of the 
entertainment than as a part of the competition. 

Oh, it was a wonderful afternoon, the great 
assembly-hall crowded with students and their 
visitors, among which were many parents — 
proud, hopeful, or anxious, as they believed in, 




or feared for, their loved ones. .And among leet " march by and realized how soon tliey 

those older ones there were many who ten or would be mingling with the great human tide 

twenty or thirty years before, perhaps, had of the outside world. 

entered that same hall, their hearts beating .Vnd above and about and everywhere were 

high with youth, to say and do and promise flowers. All the walls and the ceiling were 

what this new generation would say and do draped and festooned witli them, and the ele- 

KT WAS NOT tXLLL ll.U Ii.\oU-'< 

and promise to-day. To some of them came vated stage at the end was banked and piled 
that old commencement couplet, with bloom. Then, one after another,the sweet, 

white-clad maidens read their papers or gave 
their recitations, and amid the swelling ap- 
plause were welcomed by tiieir own. And the 
which, old and trite though it was, did not years of yesterday seemed to fall away from 
seem so now, as they watched the " expectant those older ones, who forgot that they were no 

" Standing with expectant feet 
Where the brook and river meet," 




longer young, and renewed their old plans and 
hopes and dreams in mingling them with those 
of their children. 

But now at last came the Shakspere com- 
petition. The news of it had been spread 
among the visiting audience, and a quiet inter- 
est had become general, though most of the 
girls whispered to their parents the information 
that the only real contest was between two, 
Grace Martin and Eleanor Fair. 

They grew still now, for a name had been 
called, and a bright-faced girl stepped to the 

editor lean over to the great author, and in the 
sudden silence that had followed the applause 
his words came to her ear. Oh, more than 
any applause or prize this meant to her, for in 
her heart was waking the one and mighty am- 
bition that the world should hear and know. 

But now there was a flutter through the audi- 
ence, for another name had been called, and 
Eleanor Fair had gone to the platform. It 
took but a moment or two, the reading of her 
fourteen lines. There was a curious expression 
on the editor's face as he listened. 


platform and read a graceful poem entitled 
" When Shakspere Lived." The verses were 
not without promise, and the reader blushed 
with pleasure at the applause that followed her 
effort. Then another name was called — that 
of Hattie Parker; and presently the audience 
was happy and laughing with her in listening 
to her poem of Gobbo and Touchstone^ and 
their like, entitled " Shakspere's Merry Men." 

" That girl will be heard from some day," 
said a distinguished editor to a gray-haired 
man in front of him, an author whose name is 
familiar to every reader of books. 

Little Hattie Parker had finished and was 
passing them just then. She saw the great 

•• .\ big thought," he muttered; " too big for 
a girl like that. Some fine lines, too, but, on 
the whole, hardly a success." And though the 
audience applauded and waved, as they always 
did when fair Eleanor read, there was the feel- 
ing that this was not one of her startlingly good 
performances, and that it was more than likely 
Grace Martin would win. Grace had already 
appeared in response to her name, and the 
audience had grown very still. She was a tall, 
sweet-faced girl, and she read in an even, gentle 
voice that won her hearers. Her verses, too, 
were as smooth as flowing water. 

" The best piece of literary workmanship so 
far," whispered the great editor to his friend in 



68 I 

the seat ahead. " Not great work, but always 
sure of an audience." 

The author noildcd and the room was echo- 
ing with applause. It was thought that Grace 
was to he the last reader, and it was believed 
that she had won. Grace herself had slipped 
into a seat by Eleanor, who put her arm abimi 
her as she whispered : 

" Oh, Grace, I 'm sure it 's yours. My old 
sonnet was just horrid. I did n't know how- 
awful it was until I heard your ' Shakspere the 
Magician.' Oh, I don't believe I shall ever — " 

But at that moment the master of ceremonies 
was making an announcement, and there was 
something in it that brought Eleanor's sentence 
to a sudden close. 

"There is one more poem," he was saying; "it 
is entitled ' My Lad, Shakspere,' by Miss Kate 

" Eleanor, oh, Eleanor," breathed Grace, •• she 
did it, and never told us I " And then both 
were .silent, for Kate — Kate, who had never 
written anything before but essays and bits of 
fiction, Kate with her jet-black hair and her 
olive oval face — had appeared on the platform 
and begun to read. 

Then there fell upon the audience a hush such 
as it had not known before. Nobody rustled, 
nobody whispered, nobody coughed — hardly 
did they breathe. 

And what a simple little poem it was — with 
no attempt at a difficult form, unusual rhyme, 
or high-sounding words. Yet through the mea- 
sure of those simple syllables the brook trickled 
its music, the wind set all the leaves to mur- 
muring, the birds whistled and sang in the tree- 
tops, while amid it all — his face on the cool 
moss — the lad lay and listened, and dreamed 
the long, long dreams. The sun slipped down in 
the west, the moon rose, and the stars came out. 
Every leaf and stem glittered, and the fairy folk 
crept from among the shadows to where lav 
the listening boy — hearing, feeling, knowing all 
the mystery and secret of the universal heart, 
learning the chorus that the planets sing. 

There was no applause at first when Kate 
ceased reading. Nobody wanted to applaud ; 
they only wanted to sit still — so still that they 
might not break the spell she had cast upon 

them. Kate herself, a little dazed perhaps at 
the silence, hesitated a moment, then turned to 
descend the steps. But as she did so somebody 
arose in the audience and came to meet her. 
And then everybody saw that it was Eleanor 
Fair, and close behind her Grace Martin, and 
that these two hurried up the aisle to her. and 
threw their arms about her, and kissed her, 
and bore her to their seat. 

But lo! the spell was broken now. Like 
breaking billows came the surge of apjjiause — 
wave after wave. People stood upon the seats 
to look over to where she sat, and those about 
her seized her hand. Then some one was push- 
ing his way through, and Kate, turning, suddenly 
found herself face to face with the editor, 
— whom she had sometimes wondered if she 
would ever meet, if she worked very hard and 
long, — and he was holding out his hand. 

She took it, her own hand trembling. And 
now he was holding out his other hand. 

" The ])oem," he was saying : " we want it for 
the magazine." 

In the big upper room where the three chums 
had lived and toiled a reception was held in 
Kate's honor. And the distinguished editor was 
there, and the distinguished author, and others 
of the literary class, with the rich man who had 
offered the prize, and the judges, and all the pa- 
rents, anti a few more. And they asked Kate for 
a litde speech, but Kate could not make it, so 
Eleanor, fair Eleanor, made it for her, and in 
oi)en confession told how she and (irace had 
jjlayed battledore and shuttlecock for the prize 
that Kate, the umpire, — dear, .sly old Kate, — 
had made up her mind to win all along; and 
how she had insisted on them both competing, 
so that the honor of winning might be all the 
greater ; and how they never intended to forgive 
her, no, never, but just love her and tr\- to shine 
in her glory, now that she was a great authoress 
with the world already at her feet. 

.\nd then Kate really did rise to protest, only 
they would n't let her, but drowned everything 
she said in " Three cheers for Kate Conklin, the 
great new poet ! Three cheers for vacation ! 
Three cheers for everybody and everything con- 
nected with the grand old •school I " 


There is in England a custom, called "Mary's iVIeadowing," of planting for- 
eign wild flowers and garden favorites in the woods, in the hope that some of 
these may become naturalized there, and thus increase the beauty of the forest. 

"Mary, Lady Mary, 

Fair of cheek and broiu. 
Daughter of a hundred earls, 

Whither goest thou 
III the Mav morning? " 

Oh, I go a-meadowing, 

As my mother went before, 
Through the budding woodland 

And by the calHng shore. 

I go to set the bloodroot 

Where paie Lent Hhes grow. 
To teach the blue-fringed gentian 

By an English brook to blow. 

Peonies and goldenrod 

To plant in woodland dells, 
AVhere they shall .see with wonder 

The noddintr fo.xclove bells. 

"C cruel Lady Mary, 

Your tender plants will die, 
Missing the safe garden 

And your loving ministry 
In the lonely woodland." 


Nay ; God's sun will shine on them 
And his sweet rain will fall 

As well in the wild woodland 
As by m\' garden wall. 

"A/i, f/ioug/if/tss Liiiiy Alary, 
If hut one plant-heart break 
In its lone woodland exile, 

What ans7vcr icill you make 
To the great Gardener/" 

Nay ; bees and birds and children 
Will giv-e them welcome sweet, 

And the tall oaks smile down on them 
A-blooming at their feet. 

And it may be some e.xiled soul 
Whom God hath set to roam 
Out in the world's wide woodland 
From a safe garden home 

May meet some e.xiled flower 

Within the forest wild, 
And let it lead him home again, 

Once more a little child. 

But if no such angel ministry 

As this be theirs to win. 
Still the great Gardener, heeding all. 

Will count it not a sin 

That flowers again are neighbors 

That have not met before 
Since our Lady Eve did tend them 

Upon Euphrates' shore ! 


A\STOI^Y@r IROiillA. 

jl'", were on our way to Moscow, 
Arthur Crabtree and I. We had 
met in Belgium, and as it was 
tedious traveling alone, I accepted his prof- 
fered company; besides, of course, if he chose 
to run the risk of having his nose frozen off, he 
had a perfect right to do so. So behold us, 
well enveloped in cloaks and furs, giving our 
fingers and toes a final warming at the little 

station of Z while we waited for our sledge 

and post-driver to make their appearance. 

By and by the master of the station put his 
head in at the door. " Ivan is waiting, most 
worthy and excellent sir." Not knowing my 
name or rank, and determined to give me some 
title, these good people called me " worthy," 
" excellent," and " respectable " so continually 
that I began to entertain quite a high idea of 
my own character. 

" Come, Crabtree," I said cheerfully, and w'e 
hastened out into the little courtyard, where our 
black, coffin-like sledge was standing, with a 
strong little horse harnessed to it. 

There was a busy hurrying to and fro, and a 
jingle and clang of sharp-toned bells. Our 
little horse had a half-hoop over its neck, and 
the bells, which were large and loud, hung in 
this, and swung and sounded their sharp notes 
with every toss of his shaggy mane. 

The driver finally came, pulling his fur cap 

down over his head, and just as we came out 
he tucked a pair of pistols into his belt and off 
we started. 

" What are those pistols for, Ivan ? " 

" For the wolves, most respectable sir," he 
said, with a grave smile. 

" Wolves ! " ejaculated Crabtree, with a start. 

" Yes, wolves, little gentleman," said Ivan. 
" But perhaps we shall see none. That is as the 
good saints will. Still, it is best to be ready." 

Sometimes we met another sledge, and Ivan 
would speak a word or two to the driver. 

" There have been no wolves seen this far, 
worthy sir. Those traders have come through 
from Moscow." 

Presently a handsome sledge, drawn by two 
fine horses, dashed past us. Ivan drew his 
little horse humbly out of the way. The gentle- 
man all wrapped up in furs in the back seat 
bowed courteously as he was whisked by. 

"That is Prince D ch," said Ivan. "He 

owns all the land here. He is very good. There 
was something he did once that you might like 
to hear. 

" There was once a post-driver who, with his 
wife and son, lived in a small house near the 
station we have just passed. In summer he 
drove a droshky and in winter a sledge be- 
tween his village and the station some twelve 
versts (about eight miles) farther on. Well, he 




was fomi of talking, and as he couki talk very 
well, and was (juite amusing to listen to, his 
friends and neighbors were always getting him 
to deliver speeches about this thing and 
that thing, and because he must sometimes 
have something new, he — poor man — often 
said a great many things which he did not 
mean. So one day he said something about 
the Czar, and a government official was there 
and heard it, and the next day 1 )miiry was 
arrested and taken off to Moscow, with a guard 
on each side of him. 

" His wife cried bitterly as she watched them 
past the turn of the road, but her son, Dmitry 
the younger, said cheerily : ' Do not cry, 
mother; father will soon be back, and in the 
meantime we have Feodor, the pony, and I can 
drive the drashky as well as my father — yes, and 
a sledge, too.' 

" So the mother dried her eyes, and the next 
day Dmitry took his father's place at the post 
station. 'Dmitry!' travelers would sometimes 
say. 'Why, Dmitry was a big man with a long 
beard' ; and then the boy would say, ' That was 
my father, good sirs, and I am here for a time 
in his ])lace.' And every one who rode with him 
praised his careful driving and the strength and 
spirit of Feodor, the little pony. However 
tired Dmitry was, he always found time to 
attend well to Feodor, and whenever he could 
he brought him a treat of salt fish." 

" Salt fish ! " cried my friend Crabtree, incred- 

" Russian horses are very fond of salt fish, 
little — " 

I hurried to interrupt Ivan before he could 
finish the obnoxious term. 

" What a strange taste ! liut go on, Ivan." 

" It was all very well for Dmitry in the sum- 
mer, wlicn the roads were good. 'lUit ulien 
winter comes,' said the old post-drivers, ' we 
will see what happens.' 

" But with the first snow out came Dmitry's 
sledge. The robes were all shaken out and the 
bells were shining, and Feodor was pawing the 
snow and snorting, as if saying, ' Here we are, 
you see, all ready for winter, just as soon as 
any of you.' 

" Every morning Dmitry presented himself in 
good time, and each night when Feodor was 

led back to his stable every one said the boy had 
well earned his day's wages. 

" Well, one night a traveler came to the post 
station who said he was the secretary of Prince 

D ch and had despatches for him wliicii he 

must carry through that night. 

" The master of the station shook his head. 
The snow had been falling all afternoon, and 
the tracks were filled up. It was so dark, too, 
no one could find the road if it was once lost, 
which it would be in the first half-hour, the 
master said. 

" ' But it must be done ! ' said the secretary. 
' Call up the men and tell them that the one 
who takes me to the residence of the prince to- 
night shall have anything he asks me for.' 

" But the men shook their heads. No, it was 
impossible. They would lose the road and then 
the wolves would get them. 

'• The secretary was so angry he stamped his 
feet and cried out: 'Cowards! Is there no 
one here with a man's soul in his body ? ' Then 
Dmitry stepped out into the light. 

" ' I will take you. Sir Secretary.' 

" But the master pulled the boy back. 

" ' No, no, Dmitry ! Think of your mother, 
who has no one now but you — think ! ' 

"The boy shook himself free. ' I a/n think- 
ing, Stepanof, and we can do it well enough. 
Feodor has only gone five versts to-day and is 
as fresh as ever.' 

" The secretary turned to the master : ' Can 
the child drive ? ' 

" ' .'^s well as any one, but — ' 

" ' That is enough.' Then, turning to Dmitry : 

" ' Be ready in a quarter of an hour. I will 
leave my man here, so your horse will have a 
light weight. It is eight versts to the next sta- 
tion, and five more to the residence of the 
prince. Can you do it ? ' 

•''We can, Sir Secretary'; and Dmitry hur- 
ried off to get Feodor ready. 

" Two of the men followed him, and one of- 
fered him a cloak and the other gave him a 
knife. ' You may need it, Dmitry,' he said 
gloomily. But the boy only laughed. 

" ' It is too cold for the wolves to-night, is n't 
it, Feodor?' and the little horse whinnied 
softly in reply. 

" The secretary was standing in the door. 




wrapped in his long cloak. He jumped into the 
sledge without a word, and in a moment they 
were off. Dmitry waved his hand to old Step- 
anof, who stood shaking his head after them. 

" Oh, how cold it was, and how the snow 
drifted in their faces ! The secretary pulled up 
the collar of his cloak and loosened the pistols 
in his belt. 

" ' Boy, are you sure you know the way ? ' 

" ' No, Sir Secretary,' said Dmitry, modestly ; 
' I cannot be sure in this storm : but I know 
Feodor knows the waw' 

"The secretary shrugged his shoulders. ' I 
was mad to attempt it,' he muttered. 

" Colder and darker grew the night. The 
secretary dozed sometimes. Feodor's bells 
jingled slowly ; it was heavy work, drawing the 
sledge through the unbroken snow. But when- 
ever the secretary waked, there \\"as Dmitr}-, 
slapping himself to keep from freezing, or talk- 
ing cheeringly to the pony. He always 
seemed alert and wide awake, so by and by 
the secretary forgot that he was not in his own 
comfortable bed, and he fell fast asleep. 

" He was waked by the stopping of the sledge. 
Lights were moving about, and Dmitry was 
saying : ' We are at the station, Sir Secretary. 
Do you wish for anything ? ' 

" The secretary jumped out, yawning and 
stretching himself. 

" ' Have you been awake all the time, child ? ' 

" ' All the time, sir.' 

" ' How have you managed it ? ' 

" Dmitry smiled, and drew the knife one of 
the men had given him out of his belt. ' Some- 
times I was forgetting ; then see ' — shoving up 
his .sleeve and showing small pricks in his arm. 

" ' We will stay here half an hour ! ' shouted 
the secretary, ' if all the despatches in the do- 
minion wait. Some of you fellows rub down 
this horse. Shall he have something to eat ? ' 
he asked Dmitry. 

" • Some salt fish, please. Sir Secretary,' said 
Dmitry, thinking of Feodor's pleasure. 

" ' Come, now,' and the secretary half carried 
the boy into the room. He called the host, 
and soon some bread and sausage, and a steam- 
ing kettle of tea, were placed on the table. 

" ' Here, drink and eat,' said the secretary, 
pushing the things toward Dmitry. 

" He drank a glass of the scalding tea thirstily, 
and by and by began to eat. 

" The secretary, walking up and down the 
room, watched him kindly, but anxiously. 
' What a sturdy, faithful spirit ! ' he said to him- 
self. ' The prince ought to have him.' 

" Presently, when he saw the boy had finished, 
he said briskly : 

" ' Well, Dmitry, shall we go on again ? ' 

" Dmitry rose quickly. ' I am ready.' 

" 'That 's right — "deeds,not words." 'said the 
secretary, laughing, and in a few minutes they 
were off again. 

" On, on into the stormy night. Feodor 
shook the snow out of his eves and plodded 
steadily forward. 

" They were nearing the residence of the prince. 
Tlie secretary was wide awake now. Some- 
times Feodor would stop and snort, as if to 
say, ' Where now ? ' Then Dmitry would 
turn to the secretary, and after a few w-ords 
Feodor would trot on again. 

'• At last the great gates were reached. The 
secretary sprang out and rang a bell which they 
heard clattering and clanging a long way off. 
Lights moved to and fro, voices talking, and 
presently the gates opened, and the secretary 
walked into the courtyard, followed by poor, 
tired little Feodor, with steaming sides and 
drooping head, his half-frozen Httle master still 
holding the reins. 

"A splendid personage in velvet and gold 
lace hurried out to meet them. 

" ' His Highness has been expecting vou 
anxiously. Sir Secretarr.' he said, bowing low, 
■ but had given up all hope, the night being so 

" ' I would never have reached here had it 
not been for this child,' said the secretary, lift- 
ing Dmitry to the ground. ' Take him and 
treat him well.' 

'"But Feodor — ' murmured Dn"iitr\ . half 

" ' His Highness's own groom shall see to 
Feodor,' said the secretary, beckoning to one 
of the men. ' Feodor is the best little horse I 
ever saw.' And Dmitry went off well pleased. 

" Next morning the secretary sent for the boy. 

" ' Well, my young friend, now what reward 
shall I give you for last night's work ? ' 




" The hoy's face flushed. ' Only to see the 
prince, Sir Secretary,' he said huskily. 

" ' Only to see the prince ! That is easily 
done, for he has requested me to bring you to 

they came to one where the prince, in a fur- 
lined dressing-gown, sat at breakfast. 

" ' There is the prince,' said the secretary. 
' Now, if you have anything to say, say it.' 


1 \M1,!- lAKIi ^U^., SIK bECKtIAJn. 

him,' said the secretary; ' but come, now, what " Dmitry hurried forward and threw himself 

will you have for yourself ? ' at tlie feet of the prince, who was smilingly 

"' Only to see the prince,' said Dmitry, softly, regarding him. 'My father — ' he gasped, 

" ' Well, come, then, you odd child ' ; and the then burst into loud sobs. ^ The prince kindly 

secretary led him through room after room, till raised him, and then he told how long he had 



hoped for a chance to plead for his father, who 
had been now two years in prison — ' for saying 
what he did not mean,' sobbed Dmitry. He 
told of his mother's prayers and tears, of the 


lonely home, of the hope, that had sustained 
him all the previous night, that if he could only 
see the prince all would yet be well. 

" The prince and his secretary exchanged 
looks of sympathy ; and then, raising the child, 
who had again thrown himself at his feet, the 
prince promised that if his influence could do 
it his father should be free. 

" And now," said Ivan, " Dmitry the elder is 
master of the post station yonder, and the young 
man you saw driving the prince's sledge just 
now is the boy who risked his life to win his 
father's pardon. Now, 
worthy and most ex- 
cellent sirs, here is the 
station. This is as far 
as I go; you wiil get 
another driver here." 

Ivan bade us good-by 
with many smiles and 
bows, and we stumbled 
into the warm little 
room at the station as 
fast as our half-frozen 
feet would let us. 

In came the host 
with his kettle of tea, 
and Crabtree immedi- 
ately scalded his mouth 
with it — he had done 
that regularly at every 
station at which we 
iiad stopped. 

'• How long will you 
remain here, most wor- 
shipful gentlemen ? " 
asked the host, witli a 
twinkle in his eyes as 
he saw poor Crabtree's 
disturbed face. " It 
will soon snow," and 
he gave a careless 
glance at the sky. 

" Can you give us a 
good room ? " 

" Excellent, worthy 
gentleman, and to-mor- 
rqw you will have the 
best horse between this 
place and Moscow." 
" Well, Crabtree, what do you say ? It does 
look like snow, and — " 

" And I smell something awfully good out 
there," said Crabtree, whose burned mouth 
permitted him to speak again. " Let us stay-, 
by all means. We don't care to play Dmitry 
and the secretary to-night, at all events." 

A. L. F. 


By Fkeu D. Stokev. 

l^tlHE shtory I toiild ye yisterdy 
^1- respictin' me uncle Lanty 
O'Hoolahan's quarc advinture 
wid the Little People reminds 
me that I disremimber if I tould 
ye how the fairies showed ould 
Kitty Flynn the very idintical 
shpot where the insure wor buried. 

" Is it shpot?" siz you. 

Sure there wor shpots enough for a bad case 
av the measles, an' plinty lift to make an illigant 
dhress-coat for a leopard. It 's thrue for ye, the 
Insure wor n't in a// thim shpots ; but thin ye 
could n't be so onr'asonable as to expict a man 
to find pots av gould scatthered around as thick 
as butthercups, especially as it wor a woman as 
wor a-searchin' for it, an' ould Mistress Flynn 
at that, who iverybody knows wor as short- 
sighted as me uncle whin he used to mate me 
on the sthreet afther the fairies med his fortin. 
An' if ye 'II be sayin' that she wor, besides, as 
deaf as a post an' as wake as wather, it 's not me- 
silf as '11 be onpolite enough to conthradict ye. 

" But," siz you, " Phalim," siz you, " y 'are 
wandherin' from the p'int." 

Right y' are, honeys, siz I, an' that 's pre- 
coisely what ould Kitty did afore she found the 
pot av gould. .'\n', be the same token, she niver 
did find that gould at all. 

Ah, but it 's the mane ould miser she wor — 
as rich as a money-linder ! 

How ould she wor nobody knew ; an' even 
they dare n't revale the sacret for fear av losin' 
their carackthcr for truth an' veracity in the 

" Uncle," siz I, " Kitty Flynn 's an ixcad- 
ingly ould woman," siz I. 

" Ould ! " siz he. " She wor an ould woman 
whin yer grandfaither, rest his sowl, wor a boy, 
an' she 's an infant in arrums now to what she 
wor thin. She 's a dale oulder nor what she 
appears to be," siz he. 

" Bedad," siz I, " she luks it." 

Vol. XXXI.— 87. 61 

Have yez iver taken notice, childher, that 
the less toime an ould man has lift to spind the 
money, the more grady he is to be graspin' av 
it ? .\v coorse ye have n't ; but it 's thrue for 
all that, an' quare enough for a conundhrum. 
If it wor mesilf, now, I 'd be for skamin' the 
half av me life to lay hould av the cash, an' the 
I'ave av it for shcrapin' the time togither to spind 
it aisily an' plisintly. Now the reverse av the 
conthrairy av that wor the way wid ould Kitty. 
Niver at rest but whin she wor toilin' an' 
moilin' afther money an' lands an' tinimints. 

Well, as I wor on the ave av informin' ye, 
ould Kitty wor trampin' home from Bengoil wan 
blazin' hot day in July, hungry as a bear, wid 
rheumatism in her j'ints an' a big market- 
basket in her arrums — an' all beca'se she wor 
too mane to pay ould Malone the carrier a con- 
timptible thrippenny bit for a ride, an' he owin' 
her a matther o' tin shillin' for praties, wid no 
more chance av gettin' out av debt than he had 
av gettin' into Parliament. It was tremindous 
hot, so Kitty tuk the short cut through Drum- 
darra wood to avoid the hate. She wor a bit 
narvous too, for she had come be a bit av her 
property sitooated close be the outskyarts av 
Bengoil, intindin' to see how Tirrince Fahay 
wor gettin' along wid a job o' ditch-diggin' she 
had set him at. Ould man Murphy, havin' no- 
thin' else to do, accompanied her, an' — w'u'd ye 
belave it ? — there in the middle o' the field, right 
fominst Tirrince, an' he not a-noticin' it, wor a 
rale fairy ring. Now Kitty had not seen a fairy 
ring since she wor a little gal, an' the sight o' 
this wan made her a bit narvous — which wor 
not onr'asonable, ye must admit. 

But Kitty found it wor no betther in the 
shade nor in the sun, for the trees kep' out 
ivery breath av air, an' made it as close an' 
sulthry as a Dutch oven. 

Siz she to hersilf, as she put down the basket 
an' s'ated hersilf on a log to 'rest awhile, siz she, 
" Quoth the Cook to the Duck, ' Which w'u'd 




ye prefer : to be roasted afore the fire, or stewed 
in a saucepan ? ' Siz the Duck to the Cook, 
siz he, ' If it 's all the same to yersilf, I 'd sooner 
be biled in a shtrame av cold wather.' 

" An' if I had the full av a cup av that same 
cold wather at the prisint moment," siz she, 
" I 'd be more thankful an' less thirsty. Me 
heart 's broke," siz she, " wid the load an' the 
fatigue an' the hate." 

Purty soon she began to get drowsy, an' wor 
in the act av composin' hersilf for a nap, whin 
she sat up suddin-like an' siz : 

" Whisht ! " siz she. " What 's that bey ant ?" 

An' well she might ; for right undher the 

An', houldin' her breath for fear av wakin' 
him, she crep' up shly, an' clutched him wid 
both hands. The l,itde Man kicked an' strug- 
gled, but it wor no good ; for Kitty had him so 
tight that his heart leapt intil his mouth an' his 
ribs curled round his backbone. 

" An' what may ye be a-wantin' wid me, 
good woman?" siz he, whin he wor fairly awake. 

" Good woman yersilf," siz she, in a huff. 


" Misthress Flynn, madam, at yer sarvice, 
thin," siz he. 

" I want ye to lind the help av yer assistance 
to a lone widdy," siz Kitty. 

" I know nothin' respictin' the trisure," siz he. 

" Who axed ye ? " siz she. 
shade av a big fern, almost within rache av her " I see it in yer eye," siz he. 
arrum, wid his head restin' on the top av a con- " Troth, ye 'II see it in me pocket afore we 
vanient toadstool an' his legs comfortably crossed part company," siz she. 
over a leaf av the bracken, lay wan av the Little " I don't know where it is," siz he. 
People, fast asleep. " Ye do," siz she. 

" 'T is the fairy postman," mutthered she. " 'T is a long way off," siz he. 
" There 's the little leather mail-bag, an' the blue " We '11 tramp it," siz she. 
jacket wid brass buttons, an' the shtovepipe hat " But I 'm late," siz he, " an' the king expicts 
wid the gould band. Ah, but it 's the lucky me." 

woman I am this day," siz she, " The Little " Av ye don't show me the shpot," siz she, 
Man knows ivery crock av gould an' trisure "ye '11 not on'y be late, but late laminted." 
that 's buried in the County Roscommon." (Which, as yersilf can see, wor a joke.) 




'• L'ave me go," siz he, " an' I 'II tell it to 

" I '11 l'ave ye go," siz she, " whin ye s/ww it 
to me." 

"Thin come along," siz he. 

" I will that," siz she. 

An' off they started, she carryin' iiim, licr 
two hands clasped round his waist wid a grip 
av iron, an' wid a bag slung over her back to 
hould the gould in. 

" Which way do I go ? " siz she. 

" Shtraight be yer nose," siz he. 

" D' ye mock me ? " siz she. For, sure, her 
nose p'inted shtraight upwards in a line wid 
the north star. 

" Niver a bit," siz he. " 'T is right before ye 
as ye go." 

An' she forgot the hate an' the hunger, an' 
the provisions in the market-basket, an' hobbled 
along like a paydistrian at a walkin' match. 

They had been thravelin' for some time, whin 
who should happen along but Mike Lanigan, 
the hedge schoolmaster. 

AVhin Kitty see him, she siz to the Little Man: 
" Here 's that interfarin' blatherskite, Mike 
Lanigan, a-comin'. For fear he '11 be obsarvin' 
ye, I '11 jist drop ye intil the bag," siz she. An' 
widout aven a " by yer l'ave " or an " axin' 
yer pardon," she dropped him in, keepin' all the 
time a sharp holt on the mouth av the sack. 

" Good mornin', Misthress Flynn," siz Mike, 
wid an illigant flourish. 

" Mornin'," siz she, shortly, for she ached to 
get rid av him. 

" Pax taycum" siz he, purlitely, for he wor a 
very edicated gintleman, an' so I'arned that he 
aven used to dhrame in the dead languages. 

" What packs o' tay come ? " siz she. " I 
niver ordhered anny, an' whoiver siz I did 's an 
imposthor, an' I won't take 'em ! " 

" Ye miscomprehind me, ma'am," siz he, wid a 
wave av his hand. " 'T is a cotation from tlie 
anncient Latin, an' it manes, P'ace be wid ye," 
siz he. 

"Troth, I 'd a dale rather that pace 'd be 
wid me," siz she, " than Mike Lanigan or anny 
sich jabberin' haveril," siz she. 

" Ye 're complimenthary, ma'am," siz he, for 
he wor n't aisy to offind. " An' what have ye 
in yer sack, if I may make so bould ? " siz he. 

" .\ lig av pork," siz she. 

" 'T is a lively Hg," siz he, for he see the Lit- 
tle Man a-.squirmin' in the sack, "an' would 
make the fortin av a race-horse av he could 
match it." 

" I mint a suckin' pig," -siz she. 

■• Is it dhressed ? " siz he. 

" 'T is alive," siz she. 

" Where may ye be takin' it ? " siz he. 

" Home," siz she. 

" Thin ye mane to sarcumtransmigrate the 
worruld, ma'am," siz he, " seein' as it 's on'y yer 
back as is facin' for home." 

" Niver ye throuble yer head nayther about 
me face or me back," siz she. " They '11 moind 
theirsilves," siz she. 

" Can I carry it for ye ? " .siz he. 

"Ye cannot," siz she. "Ye can carry yer- 
silf off, an' I '11 be thankful, an' good luck 
to ye." 

"Joy go wid ye, thin," siz he. An' he wint 
away wondherin' at her lack av appreciation av 
his improvin' an' intertainin' conversation. 

As soon 's his back wor turned, Kitty grabbed 
hould av the collar av the fairy's jacket an' tuk 
him out av the sack ag'in. 

" Is it much farther ? " siz she. 

" It is," siz he. " Ye go along the road over 
an' beyant Benauchlan, an' whin ye rache the 
t' other side av the hill, ye turn down the lane 
fominst Larry Barry's houldin', an' whin ye 
come to the Widdy Green's turfshtack, wid the 
little clamps av turf round it, ye cross the shtile, 
an' folly the pad road for a mile or so, through 
the church meadows, an' Drummoch-a- 
Vanaghan bog, ontil ye come till a large tin- 
acre field wid a fairy fort in the cinter av the 
middle av it," siz he. 

An', be the same token, I may as well be e.\- 
plainin' to yez that a fairy fort is in the nay- 
ture av a mound wid an ilivatcd deprission in 
it, undhernathe which the Little People hould 
their coort. 

"An' in that field," siz the Little Man, "in 
a shpot I '11 direct ye to, ye '11 find the gould." 

" Sure," siz Kitty, " 't is me own field ye 're 
afther describin'." For Kitty minded the fairy 
ring she had seen early that mornin'. 

"Thin," siz he, "yer title to the trisure '11 be 
the cl'arer." 




" Shmall thanks to ye," siz she, " for givin' 
me what 's me own a'ready." 

Well, afther a long an' tajus walk, they kem 
to the field; an' whin the Little Man p'inted 
out the place, she shcraped up a litde hape 
av earth, and set the turf indways on the top 
av it. 

" I '11 be sure to ray^t'^^ize it ag'in," siz she. 

" Ye will," siz he ; " an' now me conthraet 's 
complate, I '11 be I'avin' ye, av ye pl'ase." 

" Don't be onaisy ! " siz she. 

" I 'm not," siz he, " but ristless. " I 'm ex- 
picted at the king's coort." 

" Tell 'em ye wor subpanied as a spictatin' 
witness in another coort," siz she. 

" But I 've letthers to deliver," siz he. 

" An' I 've letthers to recave," siz she ; " an' 
they 're printed round the rim av a gould piece, 
an' whin I rade thim ye can go," siz she. 

" What '11 ye be doin' wid me ? " siz he. 

" Takin' care av ye for the night," siz she. 
" an' seein' ye don't overshlape yersilf as ye did 
the day." 

An' away they wint, an' in coorse av time 
they rached Kitty's house, whin, siz she to the 
Little Man, " Av ye '11 give me yer word not to 
I'ave the room, but to deliver yersilf up to me 
in the momin', I '11 let ye loose for the night," 
siz she ; " but av ye don't I '11 tie ye, hand an' 
fut, to the bidpost." 

The Little Man gave his word, an' afther a 
bit they sat down quoiet an' paceable over a big 
bowl av stirabout an' butthermilk. 

As Kitty wor cl'arin' off the dishes afther- 
wards she chanced to pape out av the windy, 
whin, tumin' to the Litde Man, she siz : 

" Concale yersilf! There 's that mischavous 
ould gossip Bridget O'Hara a-comin'. Sure av 
she 'd stayed till she wor wanted she 'd wait ontil 
all the sands in Ould Father Time's hour-glass 
wor scatthered over Bundoren Beach," siz she. 

" Good avenin'," siz Bridget O'Hara, as she 
lifted the latch and opined the door, " an' good 
avenin' till ye, Misthress Flynn." 

" Good avenin'," siz Kitty. 

" An' how d' ye find yersilf the day?" siz she. 

" Tired wid a hard day's worruk," siz Kitty, 
"and longin' for shlape!" 

" It 's mesilf as won't be hinderin' ye," siz 
Biddy, "but I heard a foolish shtory from Mike 

Lanigan the day, an' I thought it me duty to be 
tellin' ye av it." 

" What w'u'd ye expict from a donkey but a 
hee-haw?" siz Kitty. 

" He siz that ye 've bin poachin' in Drum- 
darra wood, an' he mit ye wid a sackful av hares 
an' rabbits an' wid a brace av phisants undher 
yer arrum," siz she. 

This put Kitty in a quandary; for she see 
Biddy wor jist aten up wid curiosity, an' she 
did n't know how to be explainin' the bag, whin 
the Litde Man helped her out av the schrape 
by upsettin' the shtool on which Biddy wor 
s'ated, and topplin' her over on the flure. 

" Sure yer house is bewitched," siz she, as she 
picked hersilf up and flew out av the room in a « 


E nixt momin' Kitty wor up, 
an' sthirrin' afore Benauchlan 
top wor a blushin' at the first 
wink av sunrise. She tuk the 
Litde Man, who delivered 
himsilf up accordin' to 
agramint, an' put him un- 
dher a milkpan on the 
flure, wid a big sthone on 
the top for a solid foundation. Thin she 
shouldhered a shpade an' med shtraight for the 
trisure field. 

But, begorra .' she c'u'd scarce belave her 
eyes at the sight that mit her whin she got 
there. The field wor covered from ind to ind, 
an' from cinter to diamether, wid little hapes av 
earth, each wid a turf on top exactly like the 
wan she med the night afore. 

" Millia murther ! " she screamed. " Ch'atin' ! 
roguery ! rascality ! villainy ! " siz she. " Thim 
thaves the Little People have bin here the 
night an' ch'ated me out av me hard-aimed 
gould. I '11 niver find it undher all thim hapes, 
av I dig for a cintury," siz she. 

An' she ran about the field like wan pos- 
sessed, shtumblin' over the hapes an' flingin' the 
turves around, thryin' to find the idintical shpot 
she marked the pravious afthemoon. But it 
stands to sinse she c'u'd n't. The Little People 
wor too cunnin' for that. Ivery hape wor as 
much like his brother as two pays, an' av coorse 




it wor onpossible to indicate a turf, wid thou- 
sands av 'em shtuck all over the field like 
plums in a puddin'. 

"At all evints," siz she, ■' I Ml take it out av 
that decavin' little vilyun at home." siz she. 
" I 'II tache him to chate me out av nie In- 
sure," siz she. " I '11 mark a shpot on him that 
he won't be apt to mistake." 

An' she totthered to'rds home ag'in, wid her 
limbs thrimblin' undher her, br'athin' dipridation 
an' vingince on him. 

'T is no good me tellin' ye, honeys, for ye 
won't belave me ! But whin she got home, an' 
lifted the pan, there wor n't enough lift undher 
it to fill a crack in the eye av a needle. The 
Little Man wor gone ! 

She s'ated hersilf on the flure, an' wailed an' 
laminted like a keener at a wake. An' all over 
the house — undher the bidstead, an' in the 
comers, an' among the crockery, an' up the 
chimleys — she c'u'd hear the Little People 
dancin' and patterin', and I'apin' about and 
mockin' her wid lafture an' mirriment at the 
cliver way they 'd turned the tables on oiild 
Misthress Flynn ! 

" At anny rate," siz she, whin her aggravation 

had gone down a bit, " av I can't find the 
gould, the little ribels have lift me good turf 
enough for next winther's fuel widout me dis- 
thurbin' me own," siz she. 

" He, he ! Have they, though ! " siz an 
invisible v'ice be her elbow. " Luk at yer 
turfshtack ! " 

Kitty flew to the door, gave one luk, an' sunk 
all av a hape be the threshold. 

" 'T is the last shtroke av an evil fortin on a 
poor lone widdy," siz she. " The blaggards 
hev scatthered me own turf all over the trisure 
field, an' 't will cost me eighteenpince a load 
to get 'em home ag'in. Ochone ! Ochone ! 
I 'm desthroyed an' ruined intircly." 

What 's that ye 're sayin', acushla ? Did she 
iver find the gould ? Faith, me darlints, that 's 
a quary I 'm onable to answer yez ! All I 
know is that she died amazin' rich, an' an ould 
rusty iron pot wor diskivered in the bam which 
iverybody said wor the wan she found the 
trisure in. 

So yez see that, afther all, the matther remains 
what the gintleman av the legal profission 
w'u'd call an opin t/ucstion/ 



T the grounds where the profes- 
sional clubs play baseball, you 
may have noticed a small box- 
like structure perched on the roof 
of the grand stand. Its position 
directly back of home plate and 
on a line with the pitcher is the best possible 
for a view of the game, and if you are lucky 
enough to be invited up by some of those who 
have a right there, you will be surprised to find 
how much better you can watch what is going 
on than from a seat nearer the ground. 

This httle house with the wire netting over 
the front to guard against foul flies is called the 
press or scorers' bo.\. The young men who 
sit there have need of every facility for observ- 
ing the game, because afterward they must pre- 
sent an absolutely accurate record of it. If the 
contesting nines belong to an important league 
and play in a large city there will be an official 
scorer for each club, besides reporters from each 
of the daily newspapers. The scorers have to 
record every move of the game and, when it is 
over, present to the managers of their clubs a 
complete set of figures, from which anybody 
who understands the sport can tell exactly what 
each player has done — how well or how poorly 
he has played. 

Watch a scorer at work. Before him is an 
open book with the names of one club written 
down the left-hand side of one page and those 
of the opposing team inscribed on the page op- 
posite. After each name is a line of checker- 
board squares, curiously marked off, and at 

By Allan P. Ames. 

the end of these on the right of each page are 
several perpendicular columns headed A B, R, 
I B, S B, S H, P O, A, and E, for the sum- 
mary. These stand for, respectively, times at 
bat, runs, the times a player has reached first 
base, stolen bases, sacrifice hits, put-outs, assists, 
and errors. 

The symbols used by professional scorers are 
comparatively few and easy to remember, and 
any one familiar with the game ought to be 
able to use them after half an hour's study 
followed by a little practice. The system I am 
about to describe is the one most generally em- 
ployed, and probably the simplest. Scorers vary 
it to suit their individual uses, and in the course 
of a long experience often invent signs of their 
own ; but this is the foundation, and after it has 
been mastered the beginner is in a position to 
make what experiments he pleases. 

In the first place, for the sake of brevity each 
member of a baseball team is numbered, ac- 
cording to the position he plays. The pitcher 
is No. I ; the catcher, 2 ; the first baseman, 3 ; 
second baseman, 4 ; third baseman, 5 ; short 
stop, 6 ; left fielder, 7 ; center fielder, 8, and 
right fielder, 9. The positions, you will ob- 
serve, are taken in their regular order. Now, 
on the score-book, opposite each player's name, 
is a horizontal line of squares, each divided off 
by a central diamond and lines connecting its 
points with the four sides of the square, as 
shown in the sample scores on page 696. 
Some books have a circle inside the square 
instead of the diamond ; but a diamond seems 
more suitable, because it bears a direct rela- 
tion to the diamond on which 
the game is played. In the first 
pentagon at the lower right-hand 
corner of the square is recorded 
how the player reaches first base, 
or was put out 'oefore getting there. In the same 
way the other three pentagons are used to set 




down what happens at second and third base 
and the home plate, taking them in their order 
right around the square, counting upward and 
to the left. Inside the diamond is placed a 
zero when the player goes out, and the straight 
mark when he scores a run, and a cross when 
he is left on base. 

Now, when the batter is put out, all it is 
necessary to set down is the numbers of the 
opposing players who handle the ball. For 
instance, 6 — 3 in the first comer would mean 
that the batted ball went to the short stop, No. 6. 
who threw it to the first baseman, No. 3. The 
fomiergets an "assist" and the latter a ''put-out." 
If the batsman is caught out on a fly the scorer 
places a zero in the central diamond and F, 
followed by the number of the opposing player 
who caught the fly. F, of course, stands for 
" fly." For the sake of brevity, however, many 
scorers omit the letter, simply using the number 
of the player making the catch. If the batter 
goes out on a foul fly the abbreviation is F F, 
01 in case the scorer omits the sign for " fly," a 
single F will answer for " foul." 

When the batsman reaches his base there are 
various symbols to represent w-hat happened. 
In the first place, if he makes a base hit — that 
is, sends the ball fair, and where no fielder can 
catch it or field it in soon enough to prevent 
him from reaching his base I — the mark 
is like an inverted T, thus: _L. Two such 
straight lines represent a two-base hit, three, a 
three-baser, and four, a home run. If the scorer 
wishes, he can show the direction of the hit by 
the slant of the lines. Thus, "^X. represents a 
two-baggerto left field. There V' are still finer 
distinctions of recording the style of the hit, but 
they are by no means necessary to the keeping 
of a satisfactory score. Here are some of 
them: | --^^ y,. The first of 

these /■ — Nv ^^ — . I means an ordi- 
nary curving fly, the second, a bounding 
grounder, the third, a pop fly high in the air, 
the fourth, a ball hit almost straight down to 
the ground, and the last, a driving line hit. 

Unless he makes a hit, the only other way a 
player can reach first is through some mistake, 
or misplay, by the opposing side. If he gets to 
first through a base on balls, B B is set down 
in the first base comer, and the " pass," as the 

■ --.f 



vernacular calls 
it, is recorded 
against the pitch- 
er. E stands for 
"error," the num- 
ber of the guilty 
player being put 
with it. P B 
equals "hit by 
pitched ball." 

Asfor the ways 
in which a run- 
ner may advance 
from first — W 
means a " wild 
pitch," the letter 
being placed in the comer representing the 
base reached through the pitcher's mistake. P 
is for " passed ball." S B stands for " stolen 
base." If the batter strikes out, a big S is placed 
in the center of the diamond in the middle of 
his square, and a put-out given the catcher. 
When the batter hits the ball in such a way 
that he reaches first base himself, but forces 
a player already there to get out trying to reach 
second, the letters F H, meaning " forced hit," 
are set in the batsman's square. Double or 
triple plays are noted thus: 5 — 6 — 3, mean- 
ing that the third baseman received the ball 
and threw it to the short stop, who put out the 
runner at second, and then threw to the first 
baseman in time to retire the batter. The squares 
of the players thus put out are connected by a 
line. For any other plays that arise, such as 
out on an infield fly, the scorer can find initial 
letters or abbreviations to suit himself 

At the right of the page is the form in which 
scores are made up for publication. It is in de- 
ciding what constitutes some of these features 
that the fine knowledge of the game comes into 
play. All necessar}' information, however, is con- 
tained in the national rules, which every scorer is 
supposed to have in his head or his pocket. An 
important rule to remember is that a time at bat 
is not counted if the batsman goes to first on 
being hit by a pitched ball, gets his base on balls, 
or makes a sacrifice hit. Where inexperienced 
scorers are inclined to make the most mistakes 
is in allowing players too' few hits and too 
many errors. A careful study of the rules on 




this point will prove valuable. A good plan to 
follow when in doubt is to favor the batter; 
that is, save the fielders an error and give the 
man at bat a hit whenever you can. Bear in 
mind that the catcher earns a put-out when he 
catches the third strike, but if he drops the ball 
and is obliged to throw the batter out at first he 
receives an assist. Assists should be credited 
to a player every time he handles the ball in 
such a manner that the play would result in 
retiring the batter if all his colleagues worked 
without an error. 

Besides the tabulated summary of times at 
bat, runs, etc., a properly compiled score tells 
the number of stolen bases and sacrifice hits 
and who made them. According to the na- 
tional rules, the remainder of the summary 
must contain the score made in each inning 
of the game : the two- and three-base hits and 
home runs made by each player ; the double and 
triple plays made by each side, with the players 
participating in each ; the number of times a 
pitcher strikes out an opposing batsman ; the 
number of bases on balls he allows ; the number 
of times he hits a batter ; the number of wild 
pitches ; and, where two pitchers are used in one 
game, the number of innings that each works. 



and how many hits are made off the delivery of 
each ; also the number of passed balls charged 
against each catcher ; the time of the game's du- 
ration ; and the name of the umpire — or, if 
there are two umpires, their names and positions. 

The best idea of what all this means can be 
gained from studying an actual score. Below 
is an exact copy of two pages of a score-book 
used during a game in the New York State 
League. Of the opposing clubs one repre- 
sented Albany and the other the three towns 
of Amsterdam, Johnstown, and Gloversville, 

To get the swing of the system follow these 
scores through a few innings : The A. J. G. 
Club went first to bat. Barry, the center fielder 
(No. 8), struck out; Malay, the second base- 
man, went out on a fly to the Albany left 
fielder; Williams, the first baseman, retired on 
a fly to the center fielder. For Albany, Cargo, 
the short stop, knocked a grounder to the 
pitcher, who threw him out at first ; Doherty 
went out on a fly to the right fielder; and Mc- 
Gamwell on a similar effort to the first base- 
man. Griffin, who was the finst man at bat for 
the A. J. G. Club in the second inning, got his 
base on balls. This is to be marked up against 



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33 - 

' V. 

ly II 


liQtcrcd accutding to Ai 
Bases on Balls (jTl 
Hit by Pitched BalliT 
Umpired by. 

tofCun-rci*^. in ihc year lt!77. by A. G. 

ff- . Two. Base Hits 

.'-^- Struck Out / 

S(JJlJiDg & Bros., in the office oi the Librarian of Con[;rcss, 

. . .Three*Baee Hits... Home Runs 

..Passed Balls Wild Pitches .C 


It W.ishincton, E 


Time of 


'9^4 1 



Mock, the Albany pitcher. Uniac hit safely 
to left field and reached first; Clancy went out 
on a pop foul to the catcher; G. Stroh hit to 
left field for one base, and Griffin came home ; 
W. Stroh went out on a fly to center field ; 
anil James ended the first half of the inning by 
striking out. 

Thus it went through the game, which, as 
the figures show, was won by Albany by a 
score of 9 — 2. 

The totals beneath each inning column 
represent the runs for that particular inning 
and the total score including that inning — the 
lormer being in the upper left-hand triangle 
and the latter in the lower right-hand one. 

In the ninth inning notice a line running 
from Malay's square to an asterisk on the mar- 
gin. This is the scorer's memorandum of some 
unusual feature; in the present instance an in- 
field lly with men on bases, which caused the 
batter to be declared out without earning a 
put-out or an assist for anybody. This explains 
the apparent error that Albany's total jnit-outs 
foot up to one less than the customary number 
for nine innings. 

The crosses in the diamontls show the men 
left on bases. 

The scorer may make up his summary by 
going over each inning after the game ; but a 
better plan is to record each hit, put-out, home 
run, etc., as fast as they are made, by setting a 
little dash or dot in the pro[)er place in the final 
tabulation. Then, when the game is over, 
all that is necessary is to add up these dots or 
dashes and write the results, adding, of course, 
any minor features that the scorer can recall or 
of which he has made special memoranda. 

The novice should not forget that the put- 
outs, assists, and errors on any sheet are those 
made by the fielders of the opposing club, whose 
names appear on the opposite page. With 
practice, all this becomes a mechanical opera- 
tion. The great advantage of the system is 
that it leaves the scorer almost as free to watch 
the game as the ordinary, unoccupied spectator. 

To the uninitiated an old score-book is a 
sealed volume ; but I have seen old players 
reading these shorthand reports with the height- 
ening color and unconscious muttering that 
showed how vividly the record recalled the 
scenes and events of past contests. For a true 
lover of the national game the system is worth 
knowing, if only for the glorious memories it 
has power to arouse. 


.... v/t'tvxL.^w^i:^ 





II flBP 

I B|5I 



































































































































tntcrcil a^cordiDg to Act o£ Coagrc&s, ta the ycox 1577, by A. G. 

B.SM on BallsitW' ..-?! Two.Basc Hitj.iJ^'J.fc,. 

nit by Pitched Ball Struck Out..^^^ ^.. 

umcired by....<3~Or-vua,nX^fC<r:r. 

Vol. XXXI.— 88-89. 

Spading J£ Bius., in the olTit 

Three. Ban Hits.,."!^, 

...Passed Bolls 

: of ihc Libfarian o( Congress, 

Home Runs 

Wild Pitches 

. Scorer 

at Washington, D. 


'.Time of 

Plays '■*»"? 1 



By Margaret Johnson. 

EFORE the British 
Hon had met the 
When all England 

Many a tale of deeds sublime, 
Which they told in stirring rhyme, 
While the congregation followed in a 
kind of pantomime, 
was a forest wild And he thrilled, as any little Briton would, 
and grim. 
When the herdsman led his C)h, he had an education, though it was n't Just 

flock like yours ; 

Where the bells of London And his treasures — he 'd a cunning coat of 

rock, skin. 

There lived a little British With some amber beads for Sunday — 

boy whose name was Well, perhaps he wore them Monday, 

Caradoc, For in fact I don't suppose they knew 

In a clearing by a grassy riv- from t' other day the one day ! 

er's brim. And he had — his pride and his delight — a 

little sword of tin. 
, \ He had n't any stockings and 

he hadn't any shoes; His ambitions they were simple — vou must 


He had never seen a hansom really not forget 

or a hat ; That he lived about two thousand years ago : 
He had never played at cricket. Just to paint his body blue, 

Never heard of bat or wicket ; Like the warriors that he knew. 

He had never seen a football with a To have a little knife of flint and arrow- 

burning wish to kick it : heads a few. 

Yet, believe me, he was every inch a Briton, for And to follow when they cut the mistletoe, 
all that ! 

He went, of course, to school, in the forest dark 

and cool, 
Where he studied without pencil, book, or chart. 
He was never taught to read — 
What 's the use of that, indeed ? 
But he learned the name of star and 
stone, of blossom and of weed, 
And could say a lot of pieces all by heart. 

But, alas for little Carry, he was very, very 

young ! 
And at New Year's, when the jieople met to 
Through the forest, high and low, 
Where the sacred branches grow, 
(For they made the greatest fuss about a 
piece of mistletoe !) 
He was left to mind the baby girl at home. 

He had heard from bard and Druid, as they fed Now this sturdy little Briton had no sofa soft to 

the flaming fluid sit on ; 

On the great stone altar deep within the wood. He 'd a lumpy, humpy bearskin for a bed ; 




He had neither toy nor book, 
And he could n't even look 
From the window, for there was n't on 
in any niche or nook. 
Save a hole cut in the ceiling overhead. 

It was very still and lonely, for his baby sister 

In her cradle — if she had one — by the fire. 
His mama was making calls 
On some neighbors who were Gauls, 
Just across the street — I mean the 
ditch — and past the willow walls. 
In a badger-skin pelisse, her best attire. 

His pa|)a and all his brothers, they were 

marching with the others ; 
Tlun he sternly knit his Httle British brow ; 
Though the boys of old were trumps, 
For they never cried for bumps, 
(And I don't believe they ever liad the 
measles or the mum])s,) 
Vet they liked a picnic just as you do now. 

.Vml his pride he had to swallow when he 

thought how they would follow 
In the splendid great i)rocession up the glade. 
With the Druids, all bedight 
In their gleaming robes of white. 
Chanting hymns and saying verses while 
they marched, with all their might. 
Till they stood beneath the oak-tree's spreading 

Swish ! would go the golden sickle where the 

bough was seen to ])rickle 
Through the green, with milk-white berries all 

aglow ; 
.And each Briton, small or big, 


\\ho would iiunt or fight or dig. 
And be lucky all the New Year through, 
must carry home a twig 
Of the fortune-bringing, magic mistletoe. 

F.very boy would have a berry save our little 

Caradoc I 
Then the feasting and the frolic in the wood ! 
All day long — he felt a choking; 
It was certainly provoking: 
But — he started; some one softly 
through the willow hedge was poking, 
.\nd he sprang within the doorway where he 

From a hostile tribe — a stranger — such a 

looking; stranger, too ! 

^■^)u M have shaken in your very shoes for fear ! 

He 'd a terrible mustache. 

And a snakeskin for a sash, 

-And his face was daubed with purple in 

a manner truly rash, - 

And he had a very long and horrid spear. 




Now a tramp, though Early English, still is 
not a welcome guest, 
And 't was plain his plans were sinister and 
Thought our little Carry, " But ! — 
If he should come in the hut, 
With the cakes a-baking on the hearth, 
the pantry door not shut, 
And the baby in her cradle, fast asleep ! " 


On he came without delay in his Early English 
With a war-whoop and a most ferocious 
grin ; 
And was little Carry frightened ? 
Fiery bold his blue eyes lightened, 
And around his little British waist his 
little belt he tightened, 
And he proudly drew his little sword of tin. 

Who can say what might have happened 1 
But in just the nick of time 
Came a good old Druid gravely trotting by. 
He was hurrying home to see 
How his favorite goose might be, — 
She 'd had something for her breakfast 
that had seemed to disagree, — 
And he spied them in the twinkling of an eye. 

Now "Tut, tut!" he cried. "What 's this? 
There is something much amiss ! " 
And although his look was really not 
Down they fell upon their knees; 
For a Druid, if you please. 
Was as dreadful as an emperor, and 
when he made decrees. 
Why, the people, they just simply luid to 
mind ! 

" Rise! But tell me why you 're here on the first 
day of the year," 
He observed, " when other boys are fain to 
roam ? " 
Then, as steady as a rock, 
" Sir," said little Caradoc, 
" Will you please not wake the baby ! 
my mama is round the block. 
And 1 'm staying, to protect the house, at 
home ! " 




Bright the Druid's eyes they twinkled in his 

face so round and wrinkled. 
" Vou protect — " said he (of course he spoke 
in rhyme). 
And his tone was kind, not scoffing, 
"You protect — " his oak- wreath doffing, 
He began, but could not finish for a 
dreadful fit of coughing ; 
Coulil it be that he was laughini; all the time? 

•' As for you," an eye of danger bent he on the 
trembling stranger, 
'•(Jo — your conqueror shows you mercy!" 
he began. 
When again there seemed to seize him 
Such a cough to tear and tease him 
That the tramp, politely murmuring 
he 'd do anything to please him. 
Like a deer into the forest turned and ran. 

"Nay; put up the sword of strife now, and Tj) his sleeve the Druid fumbled. "Faith," 
spare your victim's life ! " said he, " your foe is humbled ! 

And he i)atted little Carrv on the head; Now I fancy I 've an extra twit; or so 

" Sooth, my son, but you have lit on 
Such a truth as bards have writ on ; 
For to guard his home 's the highest, 
dearest duty of a Briton, 
As it shall be hence forevermore ! " he said. 

From the oak-tree in the wood ; 
And a noble warrior should 
Have a guerdon for his prowess — take 
it, sonny, and be good ! " 
,\nd he gave the lad a spray of mistletoe! 




On the hearth the firelight glowed ; safe the baby 
waked and crowed, 
As she sweetly sucked her litde British thumb ; 
When the household, home returning 
While the sunset red was burning. 
Heard the tale which little Caradoc to tell them 
all was yearning. 
And for joy and admiration they were dumb. 

His mama she hugged and kissed him in her Early 
English way ; 
It was rough, perhaps, but loving, so who cares? 
And his brothers looked askance 
As they praised his happy chance; 
For although he tried not to be proud, 
't was obvious at a glance 
That his mistletoe was twice as big as theirs ! 





His papa — well, he pretended that he di(.l n't 
care a straw ; 
As a Briton, that was right, of course, for hini. 
But a proud papa was he : 
And they all sat down to tea 
Just as happy and contented as a family 
could be — 
When all England was a forest wild and grim. 

Though they ate their supper sitting in a circ le 
on the floor, 
With the chickens feeding near them, and the 
None were gayer, west or east ; 

For if Love be at the feast. 
Such a trifle as a table does n't matter 
in the least — 
Home was home, two thousand years ago, as 

now ! 

And in days or new or old lieats the same a 
heart that 's bold 
'Neath a jacket or a furry coat of skin; 
'Mid the busy crowds that flock 
Where the bells of London rock, 
Could you find a braver Briton than our 
little Caradoc, 
With his true and trusty little sword of tin ? 



Blue-eyed grass in the meadow 
And yarrow-blooms on the hill, 

Cattails that rustle and whisper, 
And winds that are never still ; 

Blue-eyed grass in the meadow, 
A linnet's nest near by. 

Blackbirds caroling clearly 

Somewhere between earth and sky ; 

Blue-eyed grass in the meadow. 
And the laden bee's low hum. 

Milkweeds all by the roadside. 
To tell us summer is come. 

Mary Austin. 


{Begun in the Noz'fmbt'r nuiitbcr.) 

By B. L. Farjeon. 

Chapter XXII. 


mer Grimweed was 
puzzled and per- 
plexed. The state 
of affairs in Mary- 
bud Lodge was 
m\'sterious — very 
mysterious. He 
looked at Mme. 
Tussaud, and she 
smiled knowingly at him. Smiles are cheap. 
He smiled back at her. He could n't lose any- 
thing by that. He heard voices outside shout- 
ing and laughing; one voice in particular al- 
most drowning the rest, a jovial voice, at that 
moment exclaiming, " Go to, thou saucy 
baggage!" and then fresh peals of laughter. 

As Lorimer Grimweed walked with Mme. 
Tussaud to the playground, he said to himself: 
" Keep cool, keep cool. Don't let anything 
stagger you. Whatever it is that 's going on, 
you may make something out of it." 

The celebrities were indeed having what 
Tom Thumb called " a high old time." He and 
Queen Elizabeth were watching a game of 
ping-pong which Richard Coeur de Lion and 
Charles II were playing on a table that had 
been brought out for the purpose ; Cromwell 
was shooting arrows into a target; Richard 
III was playing with a monkey on a stick ; 
and Houqua the tea merchant was making a 
prodigiously long tail for a kite decorated with 
dragons cut in yellow paper, which he intended 
to fly for the amusement of the ladies; and all 
were eating chocolate creams, with which Lucy, 
going smilingly from one to another, kept 
them liberally supplied. Presently the princi- 
pal interest became centered in an Aunt Sally 
which Harry Bower had fixed in the ground, 
and in which rollicking pastime he was giving 

instruction. Henry VIII was particularly eager 
about it. 

" A tourney — a tourney ! " he cried. " We 
challenge the boldest knight to a tilt of sticks 
'gainst the nose of Mme. ma tante Sallie." 

" That knight am I," exclaimed Richard III, 
before any one else could speak, " unless thou 
art afeard." 

" Afeard ! " cried Henry. " The pale ghost 
Fear was ne'er yet seen on Henry's brow ! 
Harry of the Bower, count out the sticks, and see 
that the pipe is firmly fixed 'tvvixt Mme. Sallie's 
lips. Afeard ! Wert thou our vassal, Richard, 
the lowest dungeon in our castle would be thy 
bed; but as it is, thy challenge is accepted. 
Heralds, proclaim ; let the trumpets sound." 


By this time Harry Bower had completed the 
arrangements for the match. The pipe was 
fixed in Aunt Sally's mouth ; in her funny frilled 
cap she seemed to be grinning at the company 



and to be saying, "Come on, my bucks ; 1 'm 
ready for you." 

Nettled as he was at the presence of his rival, 
Lorimer Grimweed took no notice of Harry. 
He otTercd his flabby hand to Lydia. 

" How do you do, Miss Lyddy ? " 

" How do you do, Mr. Grimweed ? " said 
Lydia, politely, but without much cordiality. 

" Remember, Harry," said Mary Queen of 
Scots to Henry VIII, "bright eyes behold thy 

" By St. Jude ! " he said, poising a stick in 
his hand, "we will make dust of Mme. ma 
tante Sallie's pipe." 

Vain boast! He threw three sticks, and 
Aunt Sally still grinned at him. her [)ipe un- 
broken in her mouth. Richard III missed with 
his first and second sticks, but with his third 
smashed the pipe. 

" Ha, ha, Henry!" he cried, with a boastful 
laugh. " We will show thee ! " 

"One to his Majesty Richard 111," said 
Mme. Tussaud. 

Henry VIII threw three more sticks, and, 
roaring with laughter, sent the pipe flying with 
his third; but Richard III sma.shed two pipes 
to his one, and was proclaimed the victor. 

"Any more, Hal?" asked Richard III, tri- 

" No more, cousin. Mme. ma tante Sallir 
plays us false. We have had enough of the 

He struck her a vigorous whack across the 
face with a stick, and her frilled cap fell on one 
side of her head. She looked a very battered 
and dilapidated old woman. 

Lorimer Grimweed cast his eyes around, and 
thev met those of Mme. Tussaud. The few 
words he had had with her had not impressed 
him unfavorably. He had spoken to her rudely, 
and she had answered him amiably. Perliajis 
he could bamboozle the old lady. Anyhow, it 
■would do him no harm to try to make a friend 
of her. 

" Look here," he said, beckoning her aside. 
" What is all this about ? I 'd like to know, you 

"What do you want to know, 'you know'?" 
asked Mme. Tussaud. 

" \\'hether all this is real — genuine, vou know." 

■• i.)h, it 's real enough," said Mme. Tussaud. 
" Does not Shakspere say that there are more 
things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of 
in our philosophy ? " 

" Yes, he does; and lie knew a lot, did n't 
he? I tell you, Shakspere was a wise old chap, 
now was n't he ? " 

" Indeed he was. There never was a poet so 




wise and far-seeing. He foresaw the future ; he 
foretold what would take place centuries after 
he wrote his wonderful plays. When that 
tricksy imp Puck said that he would put a 
girdle round the earth in forty minutes, there 
was no electric telegra[)h, no telephone, no 
.Xtlantic cable; and the girdle /las been put 
round the earth, and under the sea, and we can 
speak to our friends in America, and they to 
their friends in England, just as though we and 
they were all living in one house — not to men- 
tion speaking across the water without any wires 
at all. If that is true, Mr. Grimweed, — which 
it is, — why should not this be true ? " 




" Of course, of course," he said eagerly. " I shall not try. You 're fond of curious 

" And seeing 's believing, is n't it? (I wonder things?" 

if Shakspere said that !) But, my dear woman, " Rather ! " 

I am not asleep — I am awake. Oh, you 've "Would you like to see something very.r'en' 

no idea how wide awake I am ! I say — what curious ? " 

a magnificent dress Queen Ehzabeth has on — " Is there anything to pay ? " 

a magnificent dress!" " No, not a penny; it is quite free" 


" I should think she has," said Mme. Tus- 
saud. '• It cost enough." 

" She must have paid no end of money for 
it." Mme. Tussaud smiled. " And, grimes ! 
look at her jewels ! Why, that sixteenth-century 
fan she is waving is worth a little fortune. 
Should n't I like to get hold of it ! Wonder 
what she wants for it ? D' you think she 'd 
sell it ? I 'm a judge of those things, I am. 
You can't take me in, so you 'd better not try." 

'• I 'm your man, then. Trust me for never 
missing a chance. If I can get something for 
nothing, 1 get it." 

" You art' a clever one," said Mme. Tus- 

" I rather flatter myself that I am," said Lor- 
imer Griniweed, with a knowing look. 

" Come along, then," said Mme. Tussaud, 
leading the way to the school-room. " Which 
of all those grand people do you like best ? " 



•■Oh. I like that Richard III." he repHed, 
with enthusiasm. " There 's something so kingly 
and noble about him." 

" You have found that out, have you ? " 

" Could n't help finding it out. It is n't 
much that escapes ine, you must know. I say 
— Miss Lyddy is a fine girl, is n't she ? " 

" She is a beautiful girl." 

" Thank you, oh, thank you ! We shall make 
a splendid couple. It 's no use her trying to 
wriggle out of it. I 've got old Scarlett under 
my thumb — under my thumb." 

He sniggered and chuckled and rublied his 
hands, and did not notice the look of strong 
aversion which Mme. Tussaud cast at him. By 
this time they had arrived at the school-room in 
which the gentlemen celel)rities had slept. Mme. 
Tussaud handed Lorimer (irimweed a key. 

" It is the key of that closet," she said. 
" Please unlock it." 

Burning with curiosity, he put liie key in the 
lock. What did the closet contain ? Jewels, 
treasures, perhaps, which she wished him to 
buy ? If so, he would drive a sharp bargain. 
The idea that he would not be able to outwit 
this little old woman in a poke-bonnet made 
him laugh. 

He turned the key slowly. Something was 
pushing against the door, something heavy. In 
his impatience, Lorimer Clrimweed pulled the 
door wide open — and the ne.xt moment he was 
rolling on the floor, with the inanimate form of 
the Headsman on top of him. 

"Here, I say!" he screamed, "what are 
you up to, don'tcherknow ? Oh, grimes ! I 'm 
being smothered. Tak.e him off — take him 

Choking with lauglitcr, Mme. Tussaud 
touched the Headsman with her magic cane, 
and he rose majestically to his feet and picked 
up his ax. 

Lorimer (irimweed raised himself into a sit- 
ing posture, and with wild eyes stared at the 
effigy. The gruesome appearance of tlie masked 
man struck terror to his soul. 

" It is only a person I locked up in the cup- 
board for misbehavior," said Mme. Tussaud. 

" Why does he — why does he — carry an 
ax ? " asked Lorimer Grimweed, in a trembling 
voice. " He — he looks like an executioner." 

" He is an executioner. I bring him with 
me to keep people in order." 

" Oh, do you ! " said Lorimer Grimweed, 
scrambling hastily to his feel. " Perhaps I am 
in the way, and I would n't wish to be that, 
you know. If you '11 excuse me, I '11 join the 
ladies and gentlemen on the lawn." 

So saying, he hurried away. Never in his life 
had he run so fast. 

While this scene was being enacted, every 
one else in the house and grounds was playing 
or working most zealously. Lucy and Lydia 
and Harry Bower and Tom Thumb cut oceans 
of flowers, which were carried into the house, 
and ta.stefully arranged by the maids and Miss 
Pennyback. All the best china and had 
been brought out, all the best table-cloths and 
serviettes, all the best curiery, and all the silver. 
It would have done your heart good to see the 
kitchen, where the Marchioness of Barnet and 
Polly and Maria were bristling with enthu- 
siasm. Belinda took things more calmly ; no- 
thing surprised her. Sir Rowley and Flip of the 
( )dd were the busiest of the busy, ordered about 
here, there, and everywhere by everybody, and 
obeying with iheerful alacrity. Mr. Scarlett 
got out his best wine, and bustled up and 
down in great good humor ; and Lucy and 
Lydia were in a perfect glow of anticipation. 
But once, for a moment only, Lydia's spirits 
drooped, it must be confessed, and .she said con- 
fidentially to Lucy : 

" I seem to be happy, Lucy dear, and so do 
you ; but I don't know if we ought to be — for, 
(ill, Lucy ! how is it all going to end ?" 

" In wedding bells, you darling," answered 
Lucy, throwing her arms round Lydia's neck, 
"in wedding bells! Listen! Don't you hear 
them ? Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, 
ding-dong ! " 

" You dear, you (hirling ! " said Lydia. 

Ch.vptf.r XXIII. 


While Marybud Lodge was in a ferment at 
these extraordinary proceedings, all London 
was in a ferment of another kind. No sooner 
were the gates of the exhibition opened than 


the newspapers came out with great head-hnes 
in the very boldest type : 












Throughout the whole of the day newsboys 
were tearing about the streets like mad, scream- 
ing at the top of their voices : 

'■ Speshul ! Speshul ! The great Baker Street 
mystery! Disappearance of 'EnerytheHeighth! 
'Orrible discoveries ! Queen Elizabeth miss- 
ing ! Latest edition, with all the hastounding 
news! Mysterious escape of Mary Queen of 
Scots ! The great Baker Street mystery ! Spe- 
shul ! Speshul ! " 

Every newspaper in London issued a fresh 
edition every half-hour or so, and the papers 
could not be printed fast enough, so delirious 
was the demand for them. North, south, east, 
and west, nothing else was spoken or thought 
of but the amazing, the astounding, the bewil- 
dering Baker Street mystery. Business on the 
Stock Exchange was suspended ; nobody went 
to the races ; a holiday was given to all the 
school-children ; tradesmen might as well have 
shut up their shops; servants neglected their 
household work, and their mistresses could not 
remain in the house. Everybody asked every- 
body else, What has become of the missing 
celebrities ? Where are they ? How did 
they get out ? How did the others get in ? 
What will be the ultimate fate of the human 

beings now occupying the places of the missing 
wax effigies in Mme. Tussaud's famous exhibi- 
tion ? And no one who asked the questions 
had the slightest expectation of receiving a 
satisfactory reply. It was, indeed, like a Lord 
Mayor's day in London. From every nook 
and corner in the metropolis people were wend- 
ing their way to Baker Street station, and so 
great was the crush between the Marble Arch 
and Regent's Park that large squads of police 
were appointed to regulate the traffic and i)re- 
serve order. 

As for the exhibition itself, it was literally 
besieged, and, as Mme. Tussaud had predicted, 
all the previous records of attendances were 
thrown completely in the shade. Every per- 
son connected with the great show was inter- 
viewed again and again, those most in request 
being the night-watchmen and the firemen. 
They positively declared that not a soul except 
themselves had been in the place from the mo- 
ment of its closing at night to the moment of 
its opening in the morning; that nothing had 
been removed from the building, and nothing 
conveyed into it, during those hours ; that they 
had not slept a wink the whole of the night, and 
had not for a single moment relaxed their vigi- 
lance. To these statements they unflinchingly 
adhered, and, despite the facts that stared them 
in the face, no arguments could shake them. 
They were respectable, steady men, and were as 
much confounded by what had taken place as 
all London was. 

But if they could throw no light upon it, who 
could ? People were literally stupefied. The 
newspapers were unanimous in declaring that 
the astounding Baker Street mystery was with- 
out parallel in the annals of journalism, and the 
pubHc hung with breathless interest upon the 
smallest detail that had the remotest connection 
with it. The ordinary detective gazed open- 
mouthed at the spectacle ; the scientific mind 
was bewildered. 

The excitement spread into the most exclu- 
sive quarters, and the thoroughfares leading to 
Mme. Tussaud's were wedged with fashion- 
able carriages. In the course of the afternoon 
way was made for the Lord Mayor, who, in his 
state carriage and robes, and followed by the 
sheriffs and aldermen in their state carriages 



and robes, paid a visit to tlie exhibition ; and 
an hour later it was with the greatest difficulty 
that the Prince and Princess of Wales and other 
members of the royal family could reach tiie 

Perhaps the strangest feature in the mystery 
was the condition of the human beings who 


Yard. Here was fresh sensation for the news- 

The most eminent medical men were called 
in and were allowed to make their tests. Then 
they held a consultation. Then they made 
more tests. 'I'hen they held another consulta- 
tion. TliLMi they issued a bulletin, which was 
thus editorially com- 
mented upon in one of 
the daily papers : 

ll will be a s.iti>faclion 
to the relatives of the hu- 
man beings now standing 
transfixed in Mme. Tus- 
saud's exhibition to learn 
that a council of the most 
eminent physicians and sci- 
entists in the country has 
come to the conclusion that 
those persons are not de- 
funct. So far as can be 
.iscertained at present, it is 
stated to be a case of sus- 
pended animation, distin- 
guished by features so pe- 
culiar that it is regaided as 
the strangest case in the 
records of medical science. 
Further consultations will 
be held and further bulle- 
tins issued from time to 

Later editions of the 
papers stated that the 
electric current had 
been applieil to the 
rigid figures, but that 
the results obtained 
could only be described 
as ludicrous. 

The next sujiremely 
interesting question 
was, How long would 
remain in their helpless 

had been petrified, so to speak, by Mme. Tus- these human beings 

Baud's magic cane, and who now stood, stiff and state? If they were incapable of partaking of 

motionless and bereft of sense, for all the world 
to gaze u])on. 

The question to be decided was, Were the\ 
alive or dead ? If they were dead there hatl 
been fourteen ruthless murders committed. 
Here was work for the criminal lawyers and the 

food, — as was declared to be the case, — what 
period of time would elapse before life departed 
from their bodies ? To this they replied. Time 
will show, but it could not be expected that 
any one would be satisfied with such an answer. 
Other complications followed. The relatives 

learned judges. Here was work for Scotland of the unfortunate persons demanded that the 




figures should be given up to them. The pro- 
prietors of the exhibition refused, and the emi- 
nent medical men declared it would not be safe 
to move the figures. They shook their heads 
and said they would not answer for the conse- 
quences. And when the relatives said, " But 
what business is it of yours ? " they continued 
to shake their heads, and replied, " Oh, but 
you should n't talk like that ! " 

The relatives were furious. Oft" they rushed 
to the lawyers, who took down hundreds of 

celebrities. And everybody who read these 
bills rushed off to the exhibition and paid 
shillings at the doors. And at all the railway 
stations and all the ports, regiments of detec- 
tives were on the watch, so that the celebrities 
should not escape from the kingdom either by 
land or by water. 

The amounts of the rewards offered varied 
considerably : _;^iooeach for Queen Elizabeth, 
Henry VIII, Richard I, Richard III, Charles 
II, and Mary Queen of Scots; ^60 each for 

law-books, and for days they hunted through 
them for jirecedents. Then they wrote hundreds 
of tiresome lawyers' letters, at six shillings and 
eightpence each, commencing, " We are in- 
structed by our clients. So-and-so and So-and- 
so, to demand," etc. 

Then armies of bill-posters went all through 
London and posted on the walls immense bills 
offering rewards for the return of the missing 


Cromwell and Loushkin ; ^'50 each for Guy 
Fawkes, Tom Thumb, and Mme. Sainte Ama- 
ranthe;;^25 for Houqua, the Cliinaman ; ^^15 
for the Executioner; and ^250 for Mme. Tus- 

" Aha ! " said Mme. Tussaud to herself, wlien 
she ran her eye over this scale of rewards. 
"The great British public knows my value. It 
pays me proper respect." 

In these bills, which were printed in red, yel- 
low, and black, with the royal coat of arms at 
tiie top, special announcement was made that 



the rewards were only for the bodies of tiie 
missing celebrities, their clothing, accoutrements, 
decorations, and jewels being far too valuable 
for appraisement ; and it was declared that any 
person or persons found in possession of any of 
these adornments would be prosecuted with the 
utmost rigor of the law. 

The offer of the rewards was printed in later 
editions of the newspapers, which Harry Bower 
went out from time to time to obtain, and much 
of what was printed was imparted by Mme. 
Tussaud to her celebrities. It occasioned a 
good deal of jealousy. Mme. Sainte .\maranthe 
said she did n't care a bit that she was rated 
lower than Mary Queen of Scots — but it was 


evident she did ; and Cromwell wanted to know 
why he was valued at £^^0 less than the tyrant 

The full particulars of the unprecedented 
excitement created by the mystery, not only in 
England, but in all parts of the world, may be 
found in a special account of the affair written 
by an eminent literary gentleman, and illustrated 
by a celebrated artist. An edition de luxe, 
liublished at a guinea (net), and limited to 
1 50,000 copies, was sold out on the day of 
])ublication, and now commands high prices. 
If any of the readers of this story should succeed 
in obtaining a copy of this book they may in- 
deed consider themselves very lucky. 

( I'o be continiifti.) 


'^-■'& ■ 




By J. M. Gleeson. 

For the wolf-boy Mowgli no more appro- 
priate animal could have been adopted as play- 
mate, guardian, and instructor than old Baloo, 
or Bhalu, the big black, hairy sloth-bear of 
India. Kaa, the python, making of his sinuous 
folds a jeweled hammock for his boyish play- 
mate, is a fascinating companion ; Bagheera, 
the black panther, satisfies completely our desire 
for something strong, beautiful, and terrible. 
But old Baloo, humming his sing-song say- 
ings of the jungle-law like some old lama 
murmuring his prayers, gives to the picture the 
final touch of completeness. 

And we feel, too, that he would foster the 
"naked cub," for his nature among his own 
people is one of affection ; and because of his 
habits as an eater of fruits, roots, flowers, and 
honey he would find it very easy to give the 
boy a diet suitable for him. 

Furthermore, owing to his size, and the 
custom among the "bear people" of carrying 
their young on their backs, he could not only 
assist his httle comrade on the long marches, 
but would naturally do so, and that service is 

one that Bagheera would never have thought 
of, even were he able to render it. 

Kipling always speaks of Baloo as a brown 
bear, but the sloth-bear is really black ; on 
his breast is a crescent-.shaped line of white, 
and the long, powerful claws are like old ivory. 
His eyes are small even for a bear, dull and 
with a near-sighted expression ; as a matter 
of fact he neither seeS nor hears well, depend- 
ing mainly on his sense of smell, which is 
wonderfully acute, enabling him to locate the 
nests of ants deep in the ground, or honey in 
the boles of dead trees. His power of suction 
is wonderful, and he depends largely upon it 
to extract the white ants, or termites, from their 
underground galleries. 

I was once much amused while study- 
ing a splendid specimen of the sloth-bear 
owned by Mr. Frank Bostock. A keeper was 
passing his cage with an armful of bread, and 
just to tease the bear, who was fond of it, he 
held a loaf up for him to look at, keeping it 
about six inches from the bars of the cage. 
In vain old Baloo strained to reach the coveted 



morsel with his long, curveil claws ; but he had 
another resource. Suddenly there was a mighty 
whiff, and the bread flew up against the bars, 
through which it was instantly dragged and at 
once devoured. 

.■\nd that is the way he catches the ants. 
Discovering a colony, he scrapes away the 
earth with his feet until the entrances to the 
galleries are exposed ; then, with a 7c<hoof ! that 
can be heard a long way off, he blows away 
the dust, and with his marvelous powers of 
suction he draws out the ants from their deepest 
retreats, and they flow, a living stream, down 
his throat. 

The sloth-bear does not hibernate, but hunts 
all the year round, lying down during the day 
in caves or crannies among the rocks. He trav- 
els over great stretches of country, sometimes 
alone, but just as often with two or three of his 
tribe. His pace is a quick shambling walk, 
with the head held low down ; occasionally 
he breaks into a clumsy gallop which carries 

him rapidly over the ground. To secure fruits 
or flowers he sometimes climbs trees ; but he 
is not a skilful climber. 

This species of bear has two and sometimes 
three cubs, which the female carries on her back 
until they are so large that there is no longer 
place there for them. They are most affection- 
ate, playing and romping continually, and if one 
is injured the others run to him, uttering sym- 
pathetic cries. Sometimes this queer, good- 
natured animal will, for no apparent reason, lie 
in wait for man and attack him savagely, 
clawing and biting him, as if bent upon de- 
vouring him. 

When captured young he is easily tamed 
and makes an amusing pet, rolling about and 
turning somersaults like a trained acrobat. 
He is a silent beast, save only for the humming, 
droning sounds indulged in by all bears at 

His scientific name is Mtlursus tirsiiitis, and 
by the natives of India he is called Bhalu. 


Vol. XXXI. 



By Carolyn Wells. 

Oh, the Owl and the Lark 
Went a-sailing after dark, 
And they boated and they floated down the river to the sea; 
On their mandohns they played, 
And such merry music made 
That the donkey in the distance fairly laughed aloud in glee. 


The tide was ebbing fast. 
And the boat went drifting past ; 
The donkey gave a whistle as he munched a thistle-bloom. 

And he said, "It 's my belief, 
i They will surely come to grief, 

'/And the motion of the ocean will precipitate 
their doom." 

The boat it sped along. 
And so merry was their song 
That the moon very soon wondered what the 
noise could be ; 
Peeping over the horizon. 
She exclaimed, " Well, that 's surprisin' J 
Do those strangers know the dangers of this 
shiny, briny sea ? " 

7 i< IJ- '^vy''>M*'yf^Vy!W-r-1^ 

'xWf^' :-\ 

>). 1 

Tin: nwi. AND TIIK I.ARK. 



'- • /'■ 

Then the boat gave a lurch, 

The Lark wabbled on her perch ; 
She was handlin' her mandolin, when overboard it went. 

But the Owl said, " Now, my dear, 

I will get it, never fear! " 
And with an oar he dashed and splashed to reach the instrument. 

But, alas I the boat upset 

In the watery waves so wet, 
And both the quaking, shaking birds were dumped into the deep ; 

The Owl was washed aground. 

But the little Lark was drowned. 
Which caused the Owl to yowl and howl, and moved the moon 
to weep. 


By F. Lockley, Jr. 

Teddy's papa owns a large cattle-ranch. 
One summer there was a drought. The springs 
dried up, and the streams became trickHng rills 
or disappeared altogether. The cattle wandered 
restlessly over the range in search of water. 
Teddy's father sent to the nearest town and had 
men come with steam- drills and iron pipes to bore 
an artesian well, so that there would always be 
plenty of water for the cattle. They bored down 
several hundred feet in hopes of finding an un- 
derground stream, but they could not do so, 
and had to give up the quest. They went 
away, taking their tools with them, but leaving 
— what greatly interested Teddy — a deep hole 
lined with iron pipe. He would take the board 
off the pipe and peer down, and then drop in a 
rock and see how many he could count before 
it struck the bottom. 

One night after he had gone to bed he heard 
his papa talking to his mama. He said : " Last 
winter's blizzard killed scores of the cattle, and 
now this drought comes. They are suftering for 
water and better pasture. It is all outgo and no 
income. I don't know how long we can keep it 
up. In a few years Teddy will be old enough 
to help me, but I can't put a ten-year-old boy 
on the round-up, nor keep him all day in the 
saddle, looking after the cattle." 

Teddy did lots of serious thinking during the 
ne.xt few days. How he wished he could help 
his papa in some way ! And the opportunity 
came in a way Teddy least expected. One day 
he walked over to where the men had bored 
for the artesian well. He peered into it, but it 

was as black as night. He gathered a hand- 
ful of long, dry prairie-grass, rolled it in a 
small piece of birch bark in which he had placed 
a piece of rock, lighted it, and dropped it down 
the well. Then he put his face close to the edge 
and watched it blaze as it fell down and down. 

Suddenly a long red column of flame leaped 
upward with a rushing noise. Before Teddy 
had time to pull his head away, the force of the 
explosion sent him rolling over and over away 
from the mouth of the well. The flame shot 
high up and blazed fiercely for a moment or 
two. Teddy was terribly frightened. His 
eyes smarted, and he could see a bright red 
flame dancing before him in whichever direc- 
tion he looked. With scorched hat and singed 
hair, he ran home as fast as he could. He told 
his papa what had happened. His papa went 
to the well, and when he came back he said, 
" Teddy, my boy, I think your accident is going 
to make our fortune. Our well has tapped a 
small vein of natural gas, and I think if we go 
deeper we shall strike oil." 

So the well-diggers came out again and re- 
sumed drilling. Before long they came down 
to the oil. The oil came rushing out faster than 
they could save it. Teddy's papa sold the oil- 
well to an oil company for a good price, and with 
the money he bought a ranch in another State 
where there was plenty of pasture and water, 
and shipped his cattle to the new ranch. 

Teddy is learning all he can about managing 
a cattle-ranch, because when he is old enough 
his father is going to take him in as a partner. 




^^^^^^. • ■-■-'.i^ipiijj^^r: 

■Qiasp"*' \ 

4^^ e 

nin©s 4i]iQ 

d.d ror b4lbies.§©©d for'felWes 


141 tors u 

M ml 

— "lUlllllilHItiHUPTTn— 

(>By GJohn Ernest Mc C6.nn a® " • 

Dicky 6.nd Tommy, one fine ni^ht in e)une, -^ -^ .> 
Wcklked out. to see t'other side of ttie moon^. 

A- * * ft * 

Not d.word! not a sound! it wd.s very l6.te 
Between ci. quo^rter to ei^bit 6.nd ei^ht! -, ,,\iiL^'' 
Thiey went (^lon^ till they reexched 6. brook ';''^^':^' 
When Dicky whispered toTommy. "Looki". --M-^'i. 
There in the brook. 6.s it san^ its rune, "--'^^■^' 
Wc.5 the ^lowin^ other side of the moon ' .„' 7-^— 

They ple>.nned in bed, till the clock struck ten.'-'S: 
How they'd look up Africci.. when they were men! 

> >f , 

'^^"^'^.^. ^"-:'.. 



By Emilie Poulsson. 

" I DREAMED," said little Molly, 
With face alight 
And voice awe-filled yet joyous, 
" I dreamed last night 

" That I went 'way off somewhere, 
And there I found 
Green grass and trees and flowers 
All growing round. 

"And all the signs, wherever 
We had to pass, 

Said : ' Please ' (yes, really truly) 
' Keep 071 the grass ' ! 

" And in the beds of flowers 
Along the walks, 
Among the pinks or pansies 
Or lily stalks, 

" Were signs : ' Pick all the flowers 
You wish to,' child ; 
And I dreamed that the policeman 
Looked down and smiled ! " 



In the early jxirt of the last century there 
were fewer factories in this country than now, 
and many things were made by hand which 
to-day are the work of machinery. This was 
especially true of the braid for straw hats. Rye 
straw was commonly used, although wheat was 
also in demand. But the rye straw had longer 
stems and was more easily handled. 

In driving along country roads, in Massa- 
chusetts particularly, late in the summer one 
would see great bundles of the straw hanging 
on the fences to dry. When the sun and wind 
had done their share of the work, it was 
placed in casks where sulphur was burning 
until it was bleached to a pale yellow. Then 
it was split into narrow widths suitable for 

The daughters of farmers did not have many 
pennies of their own in those days, and all 
were eager to earn money by braiding straw. 
Every little while men would pass through the 
villages, calling from house to house and buy- 
ing the straw braid. They ])aid two cents a 
yard for it. 

" District school " was in session only six 
months of the year — the rest of the time 
the children helped their mothers with the 
housework. When that was done they took 
up their braids for amusement and occupation. 
So much a day every girl expected to do as 
her daily " stint." She would carry it down by 
the brook or up in the apple-tree when the 
summer days were long ; or during the stormy 
hours of winter she would go with it to the old 
attic where the swing hung from the cobwebbed 
rafters. But all the time her fingers must work 

busily, lest the men should call for the braids 
and find them unfinished. 

The factories where the straw was sewed 
were in the large towns. The simplest hats 
were of the braids alone. More elaborate 
ones had a fancy cord, also of plaited straw, 
sewed on the edge of the braid. This cord 
was made by the old ladies. Grandmothers 
and great-aunts whose eyes were too dim to 
sew would take their balls of straw with them 
on neighborhood calls. While they chatted to- 
gether, their hands would be weaving the yellow 
strands in and out, fashioning the dainty cord. 

The price paid for the cord was only half a 
cent a yard, but this was better than nothing to 
those dames of a by-gone generation. 

A poor country girl would begin to think of 
her hat from the time of seed-sowing. All 
summer she would watch the billowy grain. 
When it was gathered and only the empty 
stalks were left, she would tie them into bundles 
and hang them in some sheltered nook to dry. 
Bleaching, splitting, and braiding — these she 
did all herself. 

When the braids were finished and sent to 
the factory, how impatiently she waited ! Per- 
ha])S grandma contributed some of the cord she 
had made last winter that the new hat might be 
more beautiful. At last the hat came home, 
and then what tryings on there were before 
the old gilt-framed mirror in the parlor! How 
lovingly its owner handled it as she placed it 
this way or that on her curly head. Oh, a new 
straw hat was indeed a thing well worth having 
in those days of the long ago.. 

Allele H. Baldwin. 



By Julian Ralph. 

are the cus- 
toms of the 
Indians, it is 
warlike na- 
tures that we 
are most apt 
to remem- 
ber. Few of 
us, in fact, 
ever think of 
Indian children at all, except at the sight of a 
picture of them. Little has been told or written 
about the boy and girl red folk, and it would 
puzzle most of my readers to say what they 
suppose these children of nature look like, or do 
to amuse themselves, or how they are brought 
up. It will astonish most city people to hear that 
red children are very like white children, just as a 
lady who was out on the plains a few years ago 

was astonished to find that they had skins as 
smooth and soft as any lady's — no, smoother and 
softer than that : as delicate and lovely as any 
dear little baby's here in New York. This lady 
was visiting the Blackfeet in my company, and 
she was so surprised; when she happened to 
touch one little red boy's bare arm, that she 
went about pinching a dozen chubby-faced boys 
and girls to make herself sure that all their skins 
were like the coats of ripe peaches to the touch. 

Whether the Indians really love their chil- 
dren, or know what genuine love or affec- 
tion is, I cannot say ; but they are so proud 
and careful of their little ones that it amounts 
to the same thing so far as the youngsters 
are concerned. Boy babies are always most 
highly prized, because they will grow up into 

The little that is taught to Indian boys must 
seem to them much more like fun than instruc- 
tion. They must hear the fairy stories and 

FL'N AMONc; Till-; KICD I'.OVS. 


the gabl)le of the medicine-men or conjurors, 
and the tales of bloody fights and brave and 
cunning deeds which make the histories of their 
tribes. They learn not to take what does not 
belong to them unless it belongs to an enemy. 

m n All 

V, ' 


They learn not to be impudent to any one 
stronger and bigger than themselves ; they learn 
how to track animals and men, how to go with- 
out food when there is not any, how to eat up 
all there is <?/ oici' when any food is to be had, 
how to ride and shoot and run and paddle, and 
smoke very mild tobacco. As for the rest, they 
Vol. XXXI.— 91. 

"just grow," like Topsy, and are as emotional 
and fanciful and wilful as any very little white 
child ever was. They never get over being so. 
Tlie older they grow to be, the older children 
tiiev become, for they are all very much like 
spoiled children as 
long as they live. 

The first Indians I 
ever saw, outside of a 
show, were boys at 
play. They were On- 
ondagas, on their res- 
ervation near Syracuse, 
New York. They were 
big boys of from six- 
teen to twenty years 
old, and the game they 
were playing was 
" snow-snakes." The 
earth was covered with 
snow, and by dragging 
a stout log through 
this covering they had 
made a narrow gutter 
or trough about 500 
or 700 feet long. Each 
youth had his snow- 
snake, which is a stick 
about eight feet long, 
and shaped something 
like a spear. All the 
snow-snakes were alike, 
less than an inch wide, 
half an inch thick, flat 
on the under side, 
rounded on toj), and 
with a very slight turn 
upward at the point to 
suggest a serpent's 
head. The "snakes" 
were all smoothed and 
of heavy hard wood. 
The game was to see 
who could send liis the farthest along the gutter 
in the snow. The young men grasped their 
snakes at the very end, ran a few steps, and 
shot the sticks along the trough. As one after 
another sped along the snow, the serpent-like 
heads kept bobbing up and down over the 
rough surface of the gutter precisely like so 



many snakes. I bought a snow-snake, but, 
though I have tried again and again, I can- 
not get the knack of throwing it. 

But I have since seen Indian bovs of many 
tribes at play, and one 
time I saw more than 
a hundred and fifty 
" let loose," as our 
own children are in 
a country school-yard 
at recess. To be sure, 
theirs is a perpetual 
recess, and they were 
at home among the 
tents of their people, 
the Canada Blackfeet, 
on the plains, within 
sight of the Rocky 
Mountains. The 

smoke-browned te- 
pees, crowned with 
projecting pole-ends, 
and painted with fig- 
ures of animals and 
with gaudy patterns, 
were set around in a 
great circle, and the 
children were playing 
in the open, grass\ 
space in the center. 
Their fathers and mo- 
thers were as wild as 
any Indians, except 
one or two tribes, 
on the continent, but 
nothing of their sav- 
age natures showed in 
these merry, lively, 
laughing, bright-faced 
little ragamuffins. At 
their play they laughed 
and screamed and hal- 
looed. Some were running foot races, some 
were wrestling, some were on the backs ot 
scampering ponies ; for they are sometimes put 
on horseback when they are no more than three 
years old. Such were their sports, for In- 
dian boys play games to make them sure of 
aim, certain of foot, quick in motion, and supple 
in body, so that they can shoot and fight and 

ride and hunt and run well. To be able to 
run fast is a necessary accomplishment for an 
Indian. What they call " runners " are impor- 
tant men in every tribe. They are the messen- 


ger men, and many a one among them has run 
a hundred miles in a day. They cultivate run- 
ning by means of foot races. In war they agree 
with the poet who sang : 

"For he who fights and runs aw.iy 
May live to fight another day " ; 

and afterward, if they were taken prisoners, they 
had a chance for life, in the old days, if they 



could run fast enough to escape their captors 
and the spears and bullets of their pursuers. 

A very popular game that attracted most of 
the Rlackfeet boys was the throwing of darts, 
or little white hand-arrows, along the grass. The 
game was to see who could throw his arrow 
farthest in a straight line. At times the air was 
full of the white missiles where the boys were 
|)laying, and they fell like rain upon the grass. 

In another part of the field were some larger 
boys with rude bows with which to shoot these 
same darts. These boys were playing a favorite 
Blackfeet game. Each one had a disk or solid 
wheel of sheet-iron or lead, and the game was 
to see who could roll his disk the farthest, while 
all the others shot at it to tip it over and bring 
it to a stop. The boys made splendid shots at 
the swift-moving little wheels, and from greater 
distances than you would imagine. 

They play with arrows so freiiuently that it 
is no wonder they are good marksmen ; yet you 
would be surprised to see how fro(|ucntly they 
bring down the birds, rabbits, and gophers 
which abound on the plains. The houses of 
these plump little drab-colored creatures are 
holes in the turf, and as you ride along the 
plains you will see them everywhere around, 
sitting up on their haunches with their tiny 
fore paws held idle and limp before them, and 
their bead-like, bright eyes looking at you 
most trustingly — until you come just so near, 
when popl suddenlydown goes little Mr.Ciopher 
in his hole. You may be sure the Indian boys 
find great sport in shooting at these comical 
little creatures. But the boys take a mean 
advantage of the fact that the restless gophers 
cannot stay still in one place any great length 
of time. When one pops into a hole it is only 
for a minute, and during that minute the Indian 
boy softly and deftly arranges a snare around 
the hole, so that when the gopher pops up 
again the snare can be jerked and the animal 

We gave the boys in the Blackfeet camp 
great sport by standing at a distance of a hun- 
dred yards from all of them and offering a silver 
quarter to whichever boy got to us first. Vou 
should have seen the stampede that followed 
the signal, " Go ! " Blankets were dropped, 
moccasins fell off, boys stumbled and others 

fell atop of them, their black locks flew in the 
breeze, and the air was noisy with yelling and 

These boys spin tops, but their " top-time " is 
the winter, when snow is on the ground and is 
crusted hard. Their tops are made of lead or 
some other metal, and are mere little circular 
plates which they cover with red flannel and 
ornament with tiny knots or wisps of cord all 
around the edges. These are spun with whips 
and look very pretty on the icy white play- 
grounds. Nearly all Indian boys play ball, 
but not as we do, for their only idea of the 
game is the girlish one of pitching and catch- 
ing. All their games are the simplest, and lack 
the rules which we lay down to make our sports 
difticult and exciting. 

The boys of the Papago tribe in the South- 
west have a game which the fellows in Harvard 
and Yale would form rules about, if they played 
it, until it became very lively indeed. These 
Indian boys make dumb-bells of woven buck- 
skin or rawhide. They weave them tight and 
stift", and then soak them in a sort of red mud 
which sticks like paint. They dry them, and 
then the queer toys are ready for use. To 
play the game they mark off goals, one for each 
band or " side " of players. The object of each 
side is to send its dumb-bells over to the goal 
of the enemy. The dumb-bells are tossed with 
sticks that are thrust under them as they lie on 
the ground. The perverse things will not go 
straight or far, and a rod is a pretty good throw 
for one. The sport quickly grows e.xciting, and 
the players are soon battling in a heap, almost 
as if they were playing at football. 

These are games that will not wear out while 
there are Indian boys to play them. On the 
oldest reservations, where even the grandfathers 
of the Indians now alive were shut up and 
fed by their government, the boys still play the 
old games. But wherever one travels to-day, 
even among the wiklest tribes, a new era is 
seen to have begun as the result of the Indian 
schools, and Indian boys are being taught 
things more useful than any they ever knew 
before. The brightest boys in the various 
tribes are selected to be sent to these schools, 
and it is hoped that what they learn will make all 
the others anxious to imitate white men's ways. 


By Margaret Jackson. 

On the same day (June 8, 1567) on which 
the Duke of Norfolk knighted Queen Eliza- 
beth's kinsman, Thomas Sackville, she caused 
him to be raised to the peerage as Baron Buck- 
hurst of Buckhurst, in Sussex. A year before 
this time she had given him the Manor of Knole 
in Kent, with its old house, which was built in 
part some three hundred years before. He did 
not, however, obtain full possession of his prop- 
erty until many years later (1603), and in the 
same year he ceased to be simply Baron Buck- 
hurst, for James I then created him Earl of Dorset. 
He at once set to work to rebuild part of the 
house, and, by employing two hundred work- 
men for two years, completed the task. It is 
this house which stands to-day in its beautiful 
]iark, one of the most famous of the manor- 
houses of England. It covers four acres of 
ground, and with its many wonders — its fifty- 
two staircases (one for each week of the year), 
its three hundred and sixty-five rooms (one for 
each day), its five hundred and forty windows, 
its recently discovered priest's cell — many of 
the readers of St. Nicholas are familiar, for 
Vita Sackville- West has aroused a new interest 
in her home by her letter, printed in the League 
in the issue of November, 1902. Her father. 
Lord Sackville, who was British minister to the 
United States, 1 881-1888, is the present owner 
of Knole Park. 

There is no Duke of Dorset now, for the last 
time that the title descended from father to son 
was more than a hundred years ago, in 1799, 
when George John Frederick Sackville found 
himself (by the death of his father), at the age 
of five, fourth Duke of Dorset, being also 
Earl of Dorset, Earl of Middlesex, Baron 
Buckhurst of Buckhurst, and Baron Cranfield 
of Cranfield. Rather a heavy load for one 

small boy to carry ! For he 7vas a boy like 
other boys, even if he came to a dukedom and 
ranked next to a prince before ever he had 
come to a knowledge of reading, writing, and 

He grew up in the beautiful county of Kent, 
known as the " Garden of England," and we 
can imagine him playing with his little sisters, 
Mary and Elizabeth, among the stately beeches 
of Knole Park — perhaps, too, playing at hide- 
and-seek in those three hundred and sixty-five 
rooms, which all belonged to him. Later he 
went to school at Harrow, and to college at 
Oxford. He must have been clever, for his 
university gave him the degree of Doctor of 
Civil Law before he was twenty years old, and 
very few people (and nTost of .those gray-haired) 
can write " D.C.L. Oxon." after their names 
nowadays. He must also have been popular, 
for he was a lieutenant-colonel and the com- 
mandant of the mihtia of Sevenoaks (the near- 
est town to Knole) at the same age. 

There has been very little recorded of his 
short early life, and there was, alas ! no later life 
to chronicle. At the age of twenty-one he was 
killed by a fall from his horse in the hunting- 
field, when on a visit to his mother in Ireland. 
The title went to his cousin, who was the fifth 
and last Duke of Dorset. 

Thus George John Frederick never lived to 
gain the fame of his great ancestor, the poet and 
statesman, the first Earl of Dorset. 

As far as we are concerned, all knowledge of 
him might have lain buried in the old leather- 
bound books of the peerage in an alcove of 
some remote library, had it not been for John 
Hoppner, formerly a German chorister boy at the 
Chapel Royal, whom George III encouraged 
to learn to paint, and who became, through the 






From the painting by Hoppner. Reproduced througli the courtc;>y ol Mr. Andrew Carnegie, the owner of the original painting. 

patronage of the Prince of Wales, portrait- 
painter to many of the noble families of Eng- 
land. Hoppner painted the jjortrait which is 
reproduced in the above picture. It found its 
way from Knole into the galleries of Buckhurst, 
in Sussex, the seat of the Earl of Delawarr 

and formerly the home of Elizabeth, Baroness 
Buckhurst, the younger sister of the little duke. 
Mr. .\ndrew Carnegie spent some time at 
Buckhurst recently, saw the picture, and pur- 
chased it. By his permission it has been repro- 
duced for St. Nicholas. 


By George W. Picknell. 

Not all of the delights of spring are for the 
country boy. We who live in the city have a 
host of them, and can see many a strange and 
pleasing sight if we keep our eyes open. A few 
days ago, while riding my bicycle down Madi- 
son Avenue, I heard the twittering of sparrows, 
and, looking up, saw in the mouth of the stone 
lion on the corner of the building of one of the 
city's prominent clubs, the remains of a last 
year's nest, and two sparrows getting ready to 
build a new one for this year. It was such a 
novel place for a bird to choose for housekeep- 

ing that I stopped and made a sketch of it. 
While standing on the opposite corner sketch- 
ing, the policeman of that " beat " came over 
to talk with me. He seemed pleased that I 
should have noticed the birds. He said that 
the sparrows had been keeping house there for 
several years. He had often stopped to watch 
them build their nests, and later feeding their 
little ones. These birds would play around the 
lion's head, sitting on his nose or eyebrows as 
saucily as could be, as much as to say : " You 
may look very fierce, but — who 's afraid? " 


By Gkkai.i) Win'stki). 

Visitors to the Trans- Mississijipi Exposition 
in Omaha in iSqcS, and to the Pan-American 
I'.xposition in Buftalo in 1901, will recall seeing 
a miniature engine and train that, in spite of its 
small size, was in daily service in carrying pas- 
sengers around the circuit of its diminutive rail- 
road track. It was John W. Shriver, a young 
MKin ])artially crippled, who conceived the idea 
(if building this small engine, and he did all the 
work of construction himself. 

The engine weighed four hundred and fifty 
pounds ; its length, with tender, was but .six feet 
seven and a half inches, and the driving-wheels 
were but eight inches in diameter. And yet it 
hauled six observation-cars, in each of which two 

children could be comfortably seated. The en- 
tire train, consisting of engine, tender, four ob- 
servation-cars, one box-car, and a caboose, was 
but an even twenty feet in length. 

The engine carried six gallons of water in the 
tender-tank and five in the boiler, which fur- 
nished steam to propel it for two hours. Coal 
was shoveled from the tender in the same man- 
ner as on the larger engines. In fact, the little 
engine was complete in miniature in every detail. 

Contrary to what one would think from its 
small size, Mr. Shriver said that this engine 
would haul a load of two thousand pounds (or 
one ton) on a level straight track at a running 
rate of twelve miles an hour. 



By Gabrielle E. Jackson. 

Chapter IV. 


The library windows stood open, and the soft 
little June winds played "peep" with the lace 
curtains, swaying them in and out, and letting 
the rose-laden air shp into the room. Outside 
the setting sun cast long slanting rays upon the 
lawn and foliage before it slipped away behind 
the hills to carry the promise of a new day to 
other lands. Within the library all was wonder- 
fully peaceful and quiet. It was a very attrac- 
tive room, pervaded with the home atmosphere 

that only a much-used, well-loved room can 

As the clock announced the hour of five, a 
stately pad, pad came stalking across the piazza, 
and a second later Sailor's great head pushed 
aside the curtains and he looked into the room. 
That no one was visible did not seem to con- 
cern him in the least, for, walking over to the 
fur rug which lay upon the floor beside the 
couch, he stretched himself at full length upon 
it, and lay there with his head raised in a listen- 
ing attitude. Pat, pat, pat, came the sound of 
small hurrying feet through the hall, and in ran 



Beauty Buttons with a yap, yap, by way of 
salutation. He, too, evidently expected others 
to follow, for after settling himself comfortably 
between Sailor's great front paws, he listened 
with ears erect. 

Then a warbly little r-r-r-r-rwcnv, accom- 
panied by a deeper roll, told that Hero and 
Leander wished to say "good evening." 

Apparently the stage was now properly set 
for the "stars," and a moment later Mrs. Lom- 
bard came into the room and sat down in the 
big chair. 

Just then a cheery voice at the foot of the 
piazza steps called out : " Good-by ! Come 
over early in the morning and we '11 get ready 
to launch it," and the next moment Denise's 
merry face peered through the curtains. 

" Oh, there you all are ! Waiting for me, as 
usual. Oh, dear me, the days are n't half long 
enough, are they, moddie ? But, moddie," she 
added, as she slipped into the big chair, along- 
side her mother, " I am so glad you got it all so 
nicely settled about Hart going home at five 
o'clock. Of course I could n't say a word, but 
I did so miss our ' cozy hour.' Somehow the 
day does n't seem finished without it, for every 
day is sure to get at least one little ' kink ' in it 
somewhere, and I don't know how to get it 
out. But when we have our talk at the end 
of it, the kink disappears, and — it 's just my 
precious moddie who unravels it ! " And De- 
nise flung both arms about her mother to hug 
her as hard as she could. 

" I have a favor to ask of you to-day," said 
Mrs. Lombard. " Will you be good enough to 
drive me over to Mary Murphy's to-morrow 
morning ? " 

"Why, I promised Hart — " began Denise, 
and then stopped short and colored slightly. 

" What did you promise him, dear ? " asked 
Mrs. Lombard, gently. 

" Why, you see," said Denise, somewhat em- 
barrassed, " his new rowboat will be sent out 
this evening, and he wants me to christen it 
when it is launched, and I told him I would. 
Of course I did not know that you wanted me 
to drive you up to the village, or I would not 
have promised." 

"Certainly you could not have known it. 
And I particularly wish to have you go with 
Vol. XXXI.— 92. 

me to-morrow. But now — as to Hart. It is 
only a step over there, I know, but I think it 
would be more courteous if you were to sit down 
and write a note to him explaining the* situation. 
This may seem a trifle formal to you both when 
you are such jolly chums, but it is one of those 
little acts which, even though they seem uncalled 
for, serve to help you both. It will show 
Hart that though you are both youngsters, 
you do not wish to be found lacking in polite- 
ness to each other, and he will respect you all 
the more for this, and you will respect your- 
self more, too. John may takeyournote to him." 

Denise did not reply for a moment or two, 
nor did Mrs. Lombard break the silence. Away 
down in Denise's heart lingered a strong desire 
to go with Hart in the morning. But eleven 
and a half years of the firmest, gentlest train- 
ing, led by this wise mother to do the right 
thing simply because it was right, and not be- 
cause she had been ordered to do so by those 
who possessed the right and power to direct her, 
had not been in vain ; and so Denise had 
grown to regard the right way as the only one, 
and the wrong way as a reflection upon herself 
Presently she asked : 

" When may I tell him that I will christen it ? " 

" The following morning, dear, if agreeable to 
him," replied Mrs. Lombard, without further 
comment, for she well knew that a struggle was 
going on within her little daughter's heart, not 
only to do what her mother wished, but to do 
it cheerfully and without regret — the true 
beauty of the doing. 

" I 'II write it this minute," cried Denise, 
springing so suddenly from the chair that Hero, 
who w-as seated on the chair-back, lost her 
balance and tumbled upon the floor. " Oh, 
dear ! Is n't that just exactly like me ? I 've 
upset Hero, and scared her nearly out of her 
wits besides. Poor pussy I " she said as she 
picked the cat up and comforted her. 

Mrs. Lombard did not say just then that she 
was much troubled at the thought of Denise 
going upon the river with Hart. It was not 
the moment for showing her anxiety. She had 
decided that she could not let her little daughter 
venture out upon the water until she had learned 
more of Hart's seamanship by testing it herself 
But that would all adjust itself later. 




The letter was barely finished when the whistle 
of the incoming train told that Mr. Lombard 
would be with them presently, and by the time 
mother and daughter had reached the entrance 
to the grounds, with two dogs and two cats as 
body-guard. Sunshine and Flash came spinning 
along the road, and neighed aloud as Denise 
called out : " Oh, papa ! papa ! here we are ! " 
Mr. Lombard stepped from the carriage at the 
gate, and, sUpping an arm about his wife and 
sunny little daughter, walked with them toward 
the house, the dogs and cats crowding about 
him and claiming the notice which they never 
claimed in vain. The peace of all the world 
lay upon that home. 

Chapter V. 

"oh, we 'll sail the ocean blue!" 

" GooD-BY, Hinky-Dinky ; we '11 come back 
before long!" Denise called out to Hart, who 
had just crawled through the opening in the 

" The old boat did n't come anyway, Snipen- 
frizzle," shouted Hart, as the carriage rolled out 
of the grounds. " It won't be out till to-night, 
papa says. There was something missing for 
the rudder. Good-by ! " And he waved his hat. 

After purchasing a generous supply of good 
things for Mary, Mrs. Lombard and Denise 
drove to -the little cottage in which she lived, 
and made the poor woman happy for the whole 
morning. Twelve o'clock had struck upon the 
town clock, indeed, before the call was com- 
pleted, and Denise was as happy as Mary her- 
self in seeing the joy that Mrs. Lombard 
brought to her. 

Upon the way home Denise spied some cir- 
cus posters, and was at once filled with a desire 
to see the circus, for anything in which horses 
were introduced was bliss unalloyed for her. 

"They will be here on the yth!" she cried, 
" the very day that Pokey will come ! Oh, mod- 
die, how splendid ! We can go, can't we ? 
Papa will surely take us." 

" We '11 see — we '11 see," answered Mrs. Lom- 
bard, with the expression which Denise knew 
to mean "yes." 

For the next few days Denise could hardly 
think of anything else, and no suspicion of the 

startling events which would take place ere 
that circus passed out of her life ever entered 
her head. 

Hart was waiting for them at the turn of the 
road, and Pinto and Ned exchanged greetings 
with joyous neighs, and cantered along beside 
each other. 

That evening the new boat was delivered at 
Mr. Murray's house. It was a fairy-like little 
craft, built of cedar and shining with its fresh 

Without letting the children know it, Mrs. 
Lombard had made a fine silk flag and em- 
broidered on it a white star. Then, to make 
the launching like a " really truly one," she 
bought a tiny bottle of ginger-ale, warranted to 
smash and sizzle in the most approved style. 

Just after breakfast the next morning. Hart's 
face peeped in at the window, for boyish pa- 
tience was stretched to the snapping-point. 

" What is the boat to be named?" Mrs. Lom- 
bard asked on the way down to the river. 

" I think we '11 call her the Water Kelpie" 
said Hart. 

" How will this answer for the christening ? " 
asked Mrs. Lombard, as she drew from the little 
bag she was carrying a bottle of ginger-ale, 
gaily decked with blue ribbons. 

" Oh, I say ! Are n't you just a trump ! " 
cried Hart, surprised into genuine boyish 
praise. " That 's a regular jim dandy, and 
Denise can smash it to smithereens. Quick, 
let 's get her launched ! " 

The boat lay upon the beach at the water's 
edge. They let the bow rest upon land until the 
ceremony of christening it was ended. It took 
but a few seconds, and grasping the little bottle 
by its beribboned neck, Denise bent over the 
bow, saying : " I christen thee the Water Kel- 
pie ! " At the last word, SMASH ! went the 
bottle, and a vigorous push from Hart sent the 
boat into the water, he singing at the top of his 
lungs, "Oh, we '11 sail the ocean blue!" and 
Mrs. Lombard joined in, adding : 

" And may I have the honor of presenting 
to the captain of this beautiful craft the private 
signal which I hope will add to its attractions 
and wave to his glory as long as the vessel 
rides the waves ? " 

The shrieks of delight which greeted the 




pretty flag when she unrolled it from its wrap- 
pings left her no doubt of its reception. It was 
mounted upon a slender cedar staff which 
fitted exactly the little socket in the stem. 

Of course the captain was in duty bound to 
invite the donor of this splendid tlag to accom- 
pany him upon his trial trip ; and, taking her 
seat in the stem, with Beauty Buttons beside 
her, Denise up in the bow, and the captain 
" amidships," off they glided upon the calm 

More than an hour was spent upon the water, 
and when they came ashore Mrs. Lombard 
felt entirely reassured, for Hart handled his 
oars like an " old salt," having rowed a great 
deal while at school. 

Chapter VI. 


As she had waited just one year before, gaily 
decked in blue ribbons in honor of the occasion, 
Denise was now waiting again for her girl chum 
Pokey to arrive for her usual yearly visit. 

She was somewhat taller, and that made her 
seem even more slender, but it was the same 
Pokey that stepped from the train into Denise's 
outstretched arms, and Ned Toodles greeted 
her with a cordial neigh. 

" And what do you think ! " cried Denise, 
when they were spinning along home, Ned occa- 
sionally joining in their conversation with asocial 
whinny. " A circus is here, and papa is going 
to take us all to see it to-night. It is going to 
parade through the town at eleven, and as soon 
as we have seen mama and grandma, we '11 
drive up to the village and see it. It won't, of 
course, come down this way. Won't it be great 
fun ! " 

" You don't suppose Ned will try to do any of 
his tricks when he sees the other ponies, do 
you?" asked Pokey, for a year's or more ac- 
quaintance with Ned had not served to overcome 
her misgivings of that animal's wild pranks. 

" Of course not 1 Why should he? Besides, 
he could n't while in harness," replied Denise, 
blissfully ignorant even yet of that httle scamp's 
resources and determination to carry his point, 
once he set about doing so. Ned was never ugly 
or vicious, but well Denise knew that a good bit 

of firmness was required upon her part when she 
wished to get him past the little store where 
chocolate creams were sold, and that it was 
always far wiser to choose another road if time 
pressed. But she was too loyal to her pet to 
betray his little weaknesses. 

" My dear litde girl, how delighted we are to 
have you with us again ! " said Mrs. Lombard, 
as she gathered Pokey into her arms. 

" Take her right out to the dining-room, 
deary, and have Mary fetch her a glass of cool 
milk and some little bi.scuits," said grandma. 

On their way to the village to see the circus 
parade they were overtaken by Hart, mounted 
upon Pinto. Knowing that Pokey was about 
to arrive, he had kept at a safe distance till he 
could " size her up," as he put it ; for his inter- 
course with girls had been decidedly limited, 
and he had no notion of plunging into an inti- 
macy with one whom he had never seen before. 

" .She is n't much like Denise," was his mental 
comment ; " but if Denise likes her so much she 
must be all right." 

So now he rode up to the phaeton and was 
duly presented to Pokey by Denise, who said : 
" Pokey, this is my friend Hart Murray, and this 
is Elizabeth Delano, Hart, only we don't call 
her by her name once in a blue moon. She is 
our very own Pokey, and /le 's H inky- Dinky," 
giving a laughing nod toward Hart. 

" Yes, and s/te 's Snipenfrizzle ! " was the 
prompt retort. 

" Well, we all know each other now," laughed 
Denise, and before another word could be spoken 
the sound of a band playing in the village just 
beyond caused all to exclaim, " Oh, they 've 
started ! they 've started ! " and to hurry forward 
as though that were the chief interest of the day. 
But upon Ned the effect of that band was cer- 
tainly odd. It was playing " Marching through 
Georgia," and one might have supposed it to 
be his favorite air, for he began to prance and 
dance in perfect time to it. 

" Do look at him ! Do look at him ! " cried 
Denise, clapping her hands with delight. " I 
believe he knows that march." 

" Oh, let 's get out," begged timid Pokey. 
" He acts as though he were crazy." 

" Nonsense! he won't do anything but mark 
time," answered Denise, laughing. " I always 




said he knew just everything, but I never sup- 
posed that he was a musician." 

They were now just at the edge of the vil- 
lage, and at that moment the circus parade 
turned in from a side street which led out to 
the grounds where the tents were pitched. The 
streets were crowded as though the entire town 
had turned out to see the show, which doubt- 
less it had, for Springdale in those days was a 
small place and circuses did not often tarry 

It was, indeed, a gorgeous pageant which 
burst upon the children's sight, for in a splen- 
did golden car blared and tooted a brass band, 
the musicians resplendent in red uniforms, 
and blowing as though their very lives de- 
pended upon it, and six handsome white horses 
pranced and curveted before it. Then came a 
pale-blue-and-gold chariot drawn by six of the 
dearest " cahco " ponies one ever saw, and with 
whom Ned instantly claimed kinship with a 
regular rowdy " hello-yourself " neigh. Now you 
have all doubtless seen circus parades, and know 
all about the knights and fairies, beautiful horses 
with their gay riders, elephants, camels, wild 
animals and tame ones. But it is of one partic- 
ular pony that we are to tell. All the time the 
parade was passing Ned kept up an incessant 
fidgeting, tugging at the reins, pawing the 
ground, shaking his head up and down, and 
only restrained from plunging headlong into 
the midst of it all by Denise's firm hand. Pinto 
stood beside the phaeton, but, save for a start of 
surprise when an exceptionally loud toot was 
blown, he behaved like a gentleman. The 
children were as close to the line of march as 
they well could be without the ponies' noses 
brushing the elephants' sides, and about half of 
the procession had passed when a magnificent 
black horse bearing upon his back the Grand 
High Mogul of the show came prancing along. 
This was the manager, so the posters announced, 
mounted upon " his splendid Sindbad the Great, 
the most wonderful performing horse in the 

Just then the parade was obliged to halt for 
a moment or two, and the handsome horse and 
his rider stopped directly in front of the children. 
With a "hello — how-are-you — glad-to-make- 
your-acquaintance " air, Ned poked out his 

muzzle and greeted Sindbad the Great. Sindbad, 
not to be outdone in politeness, put down his 
nose to meet little perky Ned's, and they held a 
second's whispered conversation — a conversa- 
tion fraught with fatal results for Ned, as will 
be seen. 

Now Sindbad's rider had a pair of eyes which 
just nothing escaped, and one sweeping glance 
took in every detail of pony, phaeton, and 

Nodding pleasantly to them, he addressed 
Denise with : 

" Fine little horse you 've got there. Had 
him long ? He does n't look very old." 

" I 've had him nearly two years. Indeed he 
is fine! There is n't another like him in all the 
world. He is not nine years old yet." 

" Want to sell him ? " asked the man. 

"Well, I just guess not/" was the indignant 

" Live here ? " was the next question ; but 
Denise began to think that this bravely decked 
individual was decidedly curious, and hesitated 
before answering. Before she had made up 
her mind to do so, the parade moved on, and a 
few moments later the last donkey had passed. 
Then Ned took matters into his own hands, or 
rather his teeth, and did that which he had 
never done before since Denise had owned 
him. He positively refused to turn around and 
go home, and neither coaxing, threats, nor whip 
had the least effect upon him. Shake his head, 
back, paw, and act like a regular little scamp 
was all he would do, and at last, growing tired 
of trying to make her understand what he did 
want, he resolved to show her, and off he went, 
pelting ahead till he had overtaken the vanish- 
ing circus, wheeling aside to avoid those at the 
end, tearing along until he had overtaken the 
part of the parade in which Sindbad was still 
delighting all beholders, and then, neck-or- 
nothing, forcing his way, carriage, occupants, 
and all, right in behind that wily beast whose 
whisper had surely been : " Come on behind 
me and we '11 cut a dash — see if we don't ! " — 
or something to that effect. 

Having achieved his object. Master Ned 
was triumphant, and no French dancing-mas- 
ter ever pirouetted and " showed off" for the 
admiration of all beholders as did this vain 




little scrap of a beast as he danced along in tt-11 )our mother that you 've joined a circus, 

perfect time to the band. and the next time she sees you, you will be 

Pokey was very nearly reduced to a state of riding bareback ! Good-by ! " And with a wild 

collapse, for Sindbad the Great was making the 
path before them rather lively, while just behind 
stalkeil a huge elephant, who now and again, 
by way of welcome to the ranks, gracefully 
flourished a wriggling trunk over the phaeton. 

Denise's face was a study. Never before 
had she met with open rebellion upon Ned's 
part, and this first exhibition of it was certainly 
a very triumph. Although thoroughly fright- 
ened, she sat holding her reins for dear Hfe, with 
no thought of deserting her post, while Pokey 
begged her piteously to " please drive home." 

" Home ! Don't you suppose I want to go 
there every bit as much as you do ? But how 

whoop he pelted off down the road, Ned whin- 
nying out after Pinto, " Oh, I 'm having the 
time of my life ! " 

Then the funny side of tlie whole affair a])- 
pealed to Denise and saved her from tears, and 
she began to laugh till she cried. Never say 
that animals do not know the different tones of 
the human voice I If others do not, Ned t/ti/. 
and that familiar laugh was the one thing want- 
ing to complete his festive mood, and if he had 
cut shines before he sim])ly outdid himself now, 
and not till he had followed that circus parade 
over the entire town did he decide that he had 
had enough excitement, and consent to go 

ean I when this little villain is acting so like home. At half-past one he walked sedately up 

time ? I can't get out and leave him, can I ? " the driveway, and as John led him to his stable, 

Then Hart came tearing alongside, shouting : he heaved a sigh which seemed to say, "Well, 

" Hello, Snipenfrizzle ! I 'm off for home to I 've kicked over the traces for once in my life." 

{To be continued,) 


f" tjx'future' , 


Wnit^er ajeyou cjoincf* ? 

Uu//nB foe, /y €./</?. my ofe^r 
n. Wncre we-^ree-n corr?'sgroyy>//?d. 

'Wbe^t'WiIl(|'ferpille^r do 

«* ^ when tl^e/ corn 13 red ? 

r/nyj'll just cr^w/ bz\c/^ z^geiJO 
To f/)e^ 2?ouLiirjb-i)Q,^ . 






jl wa5 d liny lad at 5cKool , 
Jlln Jrdnce,the (air and far-awa^. 

"When firiL I learned, a ^ilver rule 

TF)aL 5I1II bas j^erved me to t^^i% diy : 
Our tedcljer dear wa^ wonC to say, 
j3.l spellmd-time. or dancing-class. 
To ldds> astray, in d.isdrr<iy, — ■„ 
Voyon^ , avec un pcu de <^r3.c£, ! 

Jrv/e. seen a dear cl^ild ^Uy the Pool . 
for was it not a foolish vvay, 
Jo h.ide. behind, t^e mu^ic stool 
When, ask£d^_by visitoTj^ To pUy- 
1 krie^^^ d boj wl^o dropped a tray 
Thai hie, [ond mother bade fjira pi«>5 •. 
Mj^ht &he. not say, in some di&mdv,_ 
Voyon^.avec un. pea de '-'-^-- '" 



jpmc Times a man cannol ffeep cooL, 
wieu be has ^rareroenra to convey; 
Jjvt y^es hand or arr>? as tool . 

n. dl«)pl 

a vain display . 

To cut the air 
N\.y feel'mrfs I do not oeLray 
"^'et Vnro rny orajn these wordj vvnil p 

s I hit, flounderin^s Survey' . 



avec UTX pea 

de. <:;<>^ce_! 




Bv William Lovell Finlev. 

Illustrated with photographs from life by Herman T. Bohlman. 

" Why shculd n't a little wren have an enor- 
mous appetite ? " I mused as I lay hidden in 
the tall grass watching the father as he fed the 
eldest of the family of five, that had flown for 
the first time from the nest in the hollow stump 
to the alder branches below. " Of course we 
must admit that the diminutive bobtailed young- 
ster must possess the most rapid double-action 
digestive apparatus when we remember that he 
grows to maturity within two weeks from the 
day he was hatched. Therefore the chief object 
of his life must be to eat and sleep." 

Wrens are interesting little chaps anyhow — 

droll, fidgety little individuals, each with great 
self-esteem. My interest in a certain brown 
family had increased with every visit for a 
whole month. One picks up many acquain- 
tances rambling about the hills, but, like people, 
some are more interesting than others, and 
acquaintanceship often warms into friendship 
as the days pass by. 

While out birding in the latter part of June, 
I was trudging along up one of the shaded 
paths of the fir-covered Oregon hillsides, when 
a little bird whizzed headlbng down in its tip- 
pling flight, barely dodging my head. Both 




were rather flustered at this sudden and unex- 
pected meeting. The moment's pause on an 
overhanging branch was sufficient for me to 
recognize the hurrying stranger as a Vigors's 
wren. But I hardly had time to see just what 
the small white parcel was she carried in her 
mouth. It might have been a white miller, 
which I imagined would soon be thrust uncere- 
moniously down a gaping throat. For all my 
strategy this little brown bird was too shrewd to 
show me her home. 

The ne.xt day, however, I stole a march, and 
was well hidden in the bushes near to where I 
thought the nest must be, when the wren ap- 
peared. I hardly e.xpected to escape that sharp 
round eye, and was prepared for the scolding 
that followed; in fact, I submitted rather joy- 
ously to it, without a word in reply. Perhaps 
I had no business there on the wren's busiest 
day. Regardless of all the harsh epithets hurled 
at me from the alder limb, I was too absorbed 
in gazing through my field-glass at an ugly 
piece of snake-skin the wren held in her 
mouth. Rather an uncanny mouthful, to be 
sure. The idea of a nestful of gaping mouths 
vanished from my vision as the brown body 
fidgeted about, with her tail over her back, and 
then whirled away to a large upturned root 
covered with vines. Here she hopped about 
in the tangle of brier and fern, apparently for- 
getful of my presence ; but those sharp brown 
eyes, behind which are generations of care and 
cunning gained in contact with nature, are 
never heedless. Her action v/ould have de- 
ceived any other creature, but I knew her too 
well ; at the likeliest moment and in an eye's 
twinkling, she suddenly popped up into the 
dead body of an alder-tree and disappeared 
into a tiny round hole. 

Wrens have traditions, and, like some people, 
are perhaps slightly superstitious. I was not 
sure that a Vigors's wren considered a bit of 
snake-skin the keystone to the arch of its 
snugly built home, but I do not remember ever 
examining the nest of its cousin, the Parkman's 
wren, and not finding this traditional bit of 
treasure. Maybe it is a matter of protection, 
for it is said a snake will not venture where the 
vestige of its own skin is found. Generations 
ago the ancestral wrens must have fought for 

protection among the tribes of reptiles, until now 
the descendants never think of starting upon 
household duties without searching up the hill- 
sides, through the meadows, or back in the 
deep woods until the cast-off scaly coat of some 
snake is found and borne home in triumph as a 
hearthstone deity. 

Almost every feathered creature has some in- 
teresting trait of protection. I have always 
found that the red-breasted nuthatch, after he 
has excavated his wooden home in some dead 
stump, never fails to collect a good supply of soft 
pitch, and plaster it religiously about the circled 
doorway of the log house. 

Ever since I first discovered the wren build- 
ing its home in the alder stub my interest had 
grown, and I was anxious to win its friendship, 
principally because most birds had finished 
nesting for the season. Why had the nest not 
been placed nearer the ground instead of at a 
distance of twelve feet, and why did they select 
such a dark, narrow home that I could hardly 
get a glimpse of the interior ? 

Experience had taught me not to try to win 
the affections of a bird too rapidly, especially 
at that season when household affairs were so en- 
grossing. When I thought I could safely do so, 
I approached the nest rather cautiously and tim- 
idly and sat down in the tall ferns. It sur- 
prised me somewhat that neither parent scolded 
at my approach. After watching and waiting 
for almost half an hour and seeing neither wren, 
I became impatient and knocked gently on the 
tree-trunk to pay my respects to the brown head 
that might be thrust from the round door above. 
Again I knocked, and then a little harder. It 's 
queer a wren cannot feel such an earthquake 
against the pillar of her home. I shook the tree 
vigorously. Could it be possible the home was 
deserted ? Visions of all sorts of bird accidents 
flashed through my mind as I swung up into 
the branches and rapped at the round door. 
All was dark within ; not even the white eggs 
could be seen. This was bad luck indeed, I 
thought. Then, with the aid of a little mirror 
that is always handy to examine dark crevices, 
I reflected a ray of light through the door to 
the innermost depths. There sat the mother, 
her brown back almost indistinguishable from 
the dry sides of the house, but those round 


ri:ari\(; a wrkx family. 



dark eyes gleamed out from the gloom. Xor 
did she have any idea of ileserting her post tor 
all the shaking and knocking without. 

When I visited the 
little wooden home the 
first week in July there 
was a decided turn in 
the tide of wren affairs. 
The news was herald- 
ed from the tree-tops. 
The energy that was 
used in keeping the se- 
cret of the little home 
a week jjrevious was 
doubled in the eager- 
ness to spread it among 
feathered neighbors far 
and wide. For tw-o 
long weeks the mother 
and father had covered 
and caressed their five 
eggs of speckled w hite, 
until they suddenly 
teemed with inw^ard life and five 
burst forth from the prison walls. 

The father wren — it is often the case — was 
rather timid while we were around. He had a 

Vol. XXXI. — 93. 

particular fear and dislike for the great three- 
legged, one-eyed creature — my camera — that 
u as hidden dragon-like so near his home. Birds 
have many enemies, and a nest is seldom left 
without its guard. We soon discovered that 
this was the father's duty. His harsh, scolding 
note, sounded from the surrounding boughs, 
always reminded us that we were trespassing. 

It was the mother's duty to forage. Re- 
turning from the hunt with food, she whisked 
about with a " what-are-you-doing-here " look 
of inquiry. Although flustered somewhat at 
first by our presence, she soon came to regard 
us with an air of indifference. A moment's 
])ause on her threshold, and into theround open- 
ing she would pop ; then, as if amazed at the 
increasing appetites she had to appease, she 
would dart out and away for a new supply. 

About the hillside and down along the little 
stream the mother searched continually the 
entire day for grubs. Each time returning, 
she would pause on the top of one of the trees 
near by and pijie her merry little trill. This 
note of home-coming the father never failed to 
hear, and it was he that always gave the re- 
sponse of " all 's well." I was amused to hear 


tiny bodies how readily the wrenlets learned to recognize 
the voice of their mother. Her song of arrival 
soon came to be answered hf such a chorus of 
tiny cries from the round door that she could 





not resist hurrying headlong to the nest. Sev- 
eral times, from my " rabbit's hole " in the 
bushes, I saw a song-sparrow stop on swaying 
limb and sing a song somewhat resembling that 
of the wren, but the children in the wooden 
home knew not the song, and, true to their 
parents' teachings, remained quiet while the 
doughty father darted out and drove the in- 
truder from the premises. 

On July 23 I wrote in my note-book : " This 
morning I was surprised to see two little brown 
heads as I gazed through my field-glass at the 
round nest-hole." But how could I ever get 
pictures of the wren nestlings if they were to re- 
main continually within those protected wooden 
walls ? 

For some reason the father stormed and 
scolded more than usual on my next visit. He 
seemed out of sorts about everything. The rating 
I got was not very much more severe than the 
little wretch gave his wife when she returned 

each time with morsels of food. Something 
was radically wrong. It could not be that his 
mate did not search hard enough for food or 
bring enough back. With all his fault-finding 
he never once offered to relieve his faithful 

Hidden in the grass, I tried to solve the 
secret of the father's petulant actions. Each 
time the patient mother returned he grew more 
restless and violent in his language. Soon I 
saw his wife whirl joyously by with an unusually 
large white grub — surely a prize for any bird. 
But alas ! for all her prowess, her spouse darted 
at her as if in madness, while she, trembling 
in terror, retreated down the limb and through 
the bushes. For a few moments it seemed as 
if the wren household was to be wrecked. 1 
was tempted to take the mother's part against 
such cruel treatment as she quivered through 
the fern on fluttering wing toward me, but at 
that moment, as if thoroughly subdued, she 




yielded up the bug to the father. This was the 
bone of contention. A domestic battle had 
been fought and he had won. The scoliling 
ceased. Both seemed satisfied. Mounting to 
the tree-top, the little mother poured forth such 
a flood of sweet song as rarely strikes human 
ear. From that moment she seemed a difilerent 
wren, released from all care and worry. Her 
entire time was spent in search for bugs. Each 
return was heralded by the high-sounding trill 
from the tree-top, and her husband whirled out 
of the tangled vines to take the morsel she 

lUit what of his actions ? He had either 

could hardly endure him. If he were hungry, 
why could he not skirmish for his own bugs ? 

While I was chiding him for his infamous 
action, the mother appeared with a large moth, 
which he readily took. Among the alder limbs 
the father flew, and finally up to the nest-hole, 
out of which was issuing such a series of hungry 
screams as no parent with the least bit of devo- 
tion could resist. Hardly could I believe my 
eyes, for the little knave just went to the door, 
where each hungry nestling could get a good 
view of the morsel, then, as if scolding the little 
ones for being so noisy and hungry, he hopped 
back down the tree into the hushes. 


gone crazy or he was a most selfish little tyrant, 
for he flew about the alder stump, calling now 
in a softer tone to his children within, and finally 
swallowed the grub himself. Two or three 
times he did this, until I was so disgusted I 

This was indeed cause for a family revolt. 
The brown nestling nearest the door grew so 
bold with hunger that he forgot his fear and 
plunged headlong down,' catching in the 
branches below where the father perched. And 




the precocious youngster got the large moth as 
a reward for his bravery. 

Not till then did it dawn upon me that there 
was a reason for the father's queer actions. 
The wrenlets were ' old enough to leave the 
nest. Outside in the w^arm sunshine they could 
be fed more easily and would grow more rap- 
idly, and they could be taught the ways of 
woodcraft. In half an hour, one after another, 
the little wrens had been persuaded, even com- 
pelled, to leave the narrow confines of the nest 
and launch out into the big world. 

What a task the father had brought upon 
himself! Surely the old woman in the shoe 
never had a more trying time. The fretful 
father darted away to punish one of the wrenlets 
for not remaining quiet ; he scurried here to 
scold another for wandering too far, or whirled 
away to whip a third for not keeping low in the 
underbrush, away from the hawk's watchful eyes. 

My attention was directed in particular to 
one little feathered subject who, each time the 
brown father came back, insisted vociferously 
that his turn was next. Once in particular, 
when the camera did not fail to record, papa 
wren was approaching with a large grub. The 
wrenlet was all in ecstasy. He was calling, 
" Papa, papa, the bug is mine! The bug is 
mine ! " fluttering his wings in such delight as 
he hopped to the next limb near the hesitating 
parent. But the youngster's emphatic appeal 
failed to persuade the father, for the next in- 
stant he deposited the morsel in the mouth of 
the less boisterous child. What a change in 
my enthusiastic little friend, who at one moment 
fairly tasted the dainty delicacy and the next 
saw it disappear down the throat of a less noisy 
brother. He stood looking in amazement, as 
his feathers ruftled up in anger and an astonished 
peep of disgust escaped his throat. 

Another day in the warm sunshine and the 
wrenlets began to act more like their parents and 
to gain rapidly in worldly knowledge. The 
third morning all was quiet and I thought the 
family had departed for other hunting-grounds. 
Soon, however, the father appeared, and then 
the mother, scolding as usual. I crawled down 
under the tall ferns to wait. The parents had 
taught their children the act of keeping quiet 
very well, for not a peep was heard. But those 

ever-growing appetites soon mastered caution, 
and, regardless of the continual warnings, there 
was a soft little wink ! wink .' in the direc- 
tion of the vine-covered stump. 'T was hardly 
an exclamation of delight, but just a gentle re- 
minder lest the busy parents forget. Gradually 
these little notes of admonition increased in 
number and volume till the full chorus of five 
impatient voices arose from among the tangle 
of vines and ferns. 

My continued visits had made fast friends of 
the little fellows. Two of them took their posi- 
tion on the top of a little stub where the 
father was accustomed to light. Here they 
sat in sleepy attitude, each awaiting his turn 
to be fed. Not the least accommodating were 
they, from the photographer's point of view, for 
generally when the camera was focused for 
the picture, they would nod lower and lower, 
as children do at bedtime, till both were 
sound asleep in the warm sunshine. It was 
remarkable, however, to witness the effect of the 
mother's trill as she heralded the approach of 
something edible. In a flash both wrenlets on 
the wooden watch-tower were wide awake and 
on the tiptoe of expectancy. 

Often do I remember trying to play foster- 
parent to young birds, and yet, with all my care 
and patience, I seldom succeeded. A week be- 
fore, when I held a large spider temptingly near 
the nestlings, they had crouched back in terror ; 
but by this time they had certainly gained in 
worldly wisdom. I, indeed, had not been 
watching the wrens for the past two weeks 
without learning. I had seen the mother hop 
up and down an old stump, like a dog after a 
squirrel, till she w-ould soon haul out a big grub. 

Digging into this bird-storehouse with my 
knife, in a trice I collected half a dozen fine 
fat worms — a stock of provisions that would 
take the mother two hours to gather. Why are 
young birds so particular, anyhow ? ^\'hat 
difference does it make w-hether their dinner 
comes from the mother's mouth or from some 
kindly disposed neighbor ? 

" I '11 just test the little wrens once more," 
I said to myself, as I impaled two of the 
choicest grubs on a sharpened stick. It was 
impossible for me to announce the approach 
of this delicious dinner with the soft little 




wink .' zi'ink .' of the mother, but I jjalted both 
the sleepy birdies on the back and, rather 
hesitatingly, held up my offering. There was 
hardly room to doul)t its acccjitance. Mercy ! 
such a reaching and stretching! I could not 
divide up fast enough. Nor was one grub 
apiece sufficient. Quiet was not restored till 
each wrenlet had stored away two of the largest 
and fattest. 

For the first timu the parunt wrens seemed 

to realize that I was actually of some use. The 
trying task of satisfying five growing appetites 
was les.sened to some degree, and the busy 
parents took household affairs .somewhat more 
easily the rest of the day. 

The next time I saw the wren family, all the 
young were scampering about in the bushes, 
following their parents hither and thither, earn- 
ing their own livelihood and rapidly learning 
for themselves the arts of woodcraft. 




By Ellen Manlv. 

As Johnniky Van, in his Sunday clothes, 

\\'alked out from town one day, 
It chanced that a man from Chamboree 
Was sitting beside the wa}-. 
Oh, fat and fierce and brown was he — 
Sing fi-cum, fo-cum, fiddle-cum-fee ! 
The wandering man from Chamboree ! 

Now Johnniky Van was well brought up. 

And always most polite. 
And so, though his hair stood quite on end. 

And he shook in his shoes with fright — 
" It 's a beautiful day, dear sir," said he 
To the terrible man from Chamboree. 
Oh, fi-cum, fo-cum, fiddle-cum-fee ! 

" It 's no such a thing ! " the stranger growled ; 

" For the clouds are quite too green, 

And the sky-blue grass and the purple trees 

Are the ugliest things I 've seen ; 

And the rain is wet, it appears to me — 

Oh, fi-cum, fo-cum, fiddle-cum-fee ! " 

Said the singular man from Chamboree. 

Cried Johnniky Van: " Excuse me, sir. 

But I really must explain 
That the sky is blue, and the grass is green, 
And there is n't a drop of rain." 
" Goo-roo ! you 'd better not differ with me ! 
Oh, fi-cum, fo-cum, fiddle-cum-fee ! " 
Said the quarrelsome man from Chamboree. 


Then Johnniky Van politely bowed. 

But he said : " My statement 's true ; 

Vou may eat me up if you please, dear sir. 
But I '11 never agree with you ! " 

" Oh, ho, my friend, I '11 try it and see ! " 
Said the cannibal man from Chamboree ! 

" .Sing fi-cum, fo-cum, fiddle-cum-fee ! " 

Then Johnniky \'an he plainly saw 

There was not much time to waste. 
So he said : " I am pleased to have met you, 
But I find I must leave m haste." 
And down the road like a shot went he. 
Away from the man from Chamboree ! 
Sing fi-cum, fo-cum, fiddle-cum-fee! 



"This is dreadfully hard," the cannibal cried, 
" On a man with nothing to eat ! 
A nice little boy in his Sunday suit 

Would have been such a charming treat ; 
And tiow, pray what shall I have for tea ? " 
Said the cannibal man from Chamboree. 
Oh, fi-cum, fo-cum, fiddle-cum-fee ! 

When a cannibal man 's in sight, my boy, 

Don't stop to say, " Good day " ; 
Though it 's well to be polite, my boy, 
It is bttler to run away. 
And, whatever you do, don't disagree 
With a cannibal man from Chamboree ! 
Oh, fi-cum, fo-cum, fiddle-cum-fee ! 


By Edith M. Thomas. 

Said the robin to his mate 
In the dripping orchard tree : 
" Our dear nest will have to wait 
Till the blue sky we can see. 
Birds can neither work nor play. 
For the rain rains every day. 
And the rain rains all the day!" 

Said the violet to the leaf: 
'• I can scarcely ope my eye; 
So, for fear I '11 come to grief. 
Close along the earth I lie. 
All we flowers for sunshine pray. 
But the rain rains every day, 
And the rain rains all the day ! " 

And the children, far and wide. 

They, too, wished away the rain ; 
All their sports were spoiled outside 

By the " black glove" at the pane — 
Verj- dull indoors to stay 
While " the rain rains every day. 
And the rain rains all the day ! " 

Up and down the murmurs run, 

Shared by child and bird and flower. 
Suddenly the golden sun 

Dazzled through a clearing shower. 
Then they all forgot to say 
That " the rain rains ^very day. 
And the rain rains all the day ! " 

4 FOR YOUNG FOLKS m^ :s.r 




April, with her lap filled with violets ; May, with her garland of fruit-tree blossoms ; 
June, decked with the gorgeous roses. — Dr. Ch.\rles C. Abbott. 


, ,-, I RECALL very distinctly two 

Vi^. farmer-boy experiences with 

fox-fire. One eveninEr I went 

with a candle into the cellar to 
fill a pan with apples. As I 
passed the dark recesses of the 
potato-bin, I saw two great balls 
of light, like two eyes staring at 
me. I stepped forward pretty 
quickly, as a boy sometimes has 
a way of doing in such places. The move- 
ment had the same effect upon the lighted 
candle that a sudden draft would have had. 
I did n't stop to investigate details. I wanted 
a match — or something else — and I went up- 
stairs without the slightest hesitation. But in 
that time, brief as it was, those two glaring balls 
grew into " a big animal in the corner of the 
potato-bin with two staring eyes and " — I was 
impelled to add — " a savage mouth and a long 
tail." Fierce claws and another smaller speci- 
men not far from it were dawning on my ex- 
cited imagination, when one of the workmen 
laughed and said, "That's no tiger — that's 
fox-fire on the rotten ' taters.' " 

Thus I lost the chance to become the hero 
of a terrible encounter, but I gained my first 
knowledge of the fact that certain decaying 
vegetable materials can glow with a weird light 
— known to every dweller in the country as 

A few months later I had the lesson to learn 
all over again and from a different point of 
view. Late in a dark evening I went to the 

shed for an armful of wood. The wood-chop- 
per had that day cut up a load that had, as he 
expressed it, " gone a little by " — that is, it had 
lain for more than two years in a pile in the 
wood lot, till the sticks near the ground had 
become somewhat decayed so that they were 
regarded as not good enough to sell, but could 
be made to " do " for home use if well dried. 
Some of these damp sticks had been split or 
broken in pieces and scattered about in the 
shed, on the pile, and in the yard so as to dry 

As I entered the shed I took just one look 
and started for the house with a cry of " Fire! 
The woodshed 's on fire!" that brought out 
the whole familv with the water-pails. .\nd 

When yon find, in the daytime, a decaying piece of damp wood 
or log on the ground among the growing plants, you may suspect 
that it is the heme of fox-fire. Go in the evening and ascertain 
whether your suspicions were correct. 



He went to examine the plu)si)lu)ric light of 
an old tree a little within the forest. He says: 
'■ The tree lay along the ground, and was wholly 
converted into a mass of diseased splendor which 
threw a ghastliness around." 

\'ini will I)e interested in the chapter on "Fox- 
Fire " in \\'illiam Hamilton CJibson's " Eye Spy." 
This author relates several remarkable experi- 
ences with fox-fire. Very correctly he states 
that "one's first experience with fox-fire, espe- 
cially if he chances upon a specimen of some 
size, is apt to be a memorable incident." 


MosQUiTOS belong to the lly family, but 
diiTer from common flies in many respects. 
One of the most interesting differences is the 
fringe of hair-like scales on the edge of the 
wing and on the wing-veins. These scales 
At nigi.t fox-f,re readily rcvciis itself by . -I exceedingly transi)arent and dainty in ap- 

Klowing from .^^ old stump, or from pieces "^ ^ ^ *^^v,^ ^ ^ 2 j i 

of wood on the groimd. pcarance, and the accomplished microscopist 

again I was laughed at, and learned my second looks at them with great interest, because, once 

lesson in " fox-fire." But I well remember upon a time, the English-speaking microscop- 

how we young folks afterward played with that ists of the whole world were fighting a wordy 

" fire," and how we danced and ran and hurled war about the true structure of these feathery 

the glowing lumps through the air, pretending objects. Microscope lenses of those days were 

to be Indians at a fire dance, hobgoblins, poor in comparison with the lenses of the pres- 

magicians, imps, and fiends. 

Fast summer I was guiding a party of about 
one hundred and fifty persons of all ages 
through a swamp at midnight, trying to an- 
swer Thoreau's query, " Is not the midnight 
like Central Africa to most of us ?" Gibson 

ent, and few observers agreed in the interpre- 
tation of what they saw. We know about 
these scales now, but they will always be at- 
tractive, because thirty or forty years ago they 
stirred up quite a scientific contest. 

The wing of the mosiiuito is a beautiful ob- 

also states : " For even the best informed ject even under a low magnifying power of the 
student of daylight natural history may visit compound microscope, as shown below in the 
his accustomed haunts in the darkness as a photograph of the magnified wing. Its form 
]iilgrim in a strange land." AVe found a large and the position of the scales are clearly indi- 
quantity of the fox-fire, put out our lanterns, cated, but to see the full beauty with the deli- 
and had a fantastic parade of midnight explor- cate coloring the bright condensed light of the 
ers with fox-fire torches. Of course the fire microscope is not at all necessary, 
was not bright enougn to be of aid in 
traveling, but the many sticks and balls of 
the pale light, as we waved and tossed 
them, produced an effect that was novel 
and beautiful. 

Vou will recall that Haw-thorne, in 
" Mosses from an Old Manse," tells of a 
remarkable encounter with this weinl fox- 
fire. He was on a journey by canal-boat 
which had stopped en route at midnight. 

Vol. XXXI.— 94-95. 






The new metal, radium, which has 
been so much talked and written about 
during the last few months, turns out 
to be a sort of natural Roman candle, 
since, in addition to giving light, it 
also shoots off bodies of two different 
sizes. The light itself from this mys- 
terious substance is not like ordinary 
light. Even a small fragment sealed 
up in a glass tube shines with a weird 
glow like a firefly, but bright enough 
to read by. Moreover, if these rays 
fall on certain other substances, as, for 
example, diamonds, it causes them 
also to glow with a similar unearthly 
radiance ; and like the " X rays," 
which enable one to see his own bones, they 
will go through a plank or a dictionary. 
We never use metallic radium, because it has 
never been entirely separated from other mate- 
rial. We have n't it to use. We are there- 
fore compelled to be content with some salt (a 
mixture) of the metal. One experimenter con- 
sequently placed the least pinch of radium 
bromide in a glass tube, and screwed it tightly 
inside of a rubber thermometer-case. This he 
put in an iron box, with a silver soup-tureen 
and four sheets of copper above it, yet in some 
way the rays got out. After all, I don't know 
that it is any more difficult to understand why 
this light goes through iron than why the light 
of a candle goes through glass. 



But a piece of radium, in addition to giving 
off these peculiar rays, sends out such a shower 
of little particles that it is like a sort of exploding, 
battery of tiny rapid-fire guns. These, as 1 said 
at the beginning, are of two sizes. The smallest 
are the smallest particles known to science. 
Indeed, as they travel some two hundred thou- 
sand times faster than a bullet from a rifle, thev 
must needs be pretty small not to wipe out every- 
thing within range. The others are much larger^ 
perhaps by a thousand times, and they do not 
travel so fast. But even these are so small that, 
after millions upon millions of them have been 
shot off, the most careful weighing with a bal- 
ance for which a hair is a heavy weight cannot 
detect any loss. Now these smaller bodies are 
the mysterious " electrons " which, as- 
they stream against the walls of a Crookes 
tube, produce the X rays. So they seem 
quite like old friends. The larger ones 
come still nearer home. They are like 
the minute particles of vapor which are 
always being sent off by any substance, 
such as water, or alcohol, or camphor, or 
ice, which is drying up or wasting away. 
But the remarkable thing about radium 
is that, while the gas which goes off into 
the air from these familiar substances is 
still water or alcohol or what not, the 
gas from radium is not radium at all, 
but helium. Now helium and radium 
are totally different things. Radium 




is one of the heaviest of all known sub- 
stances, while helium is one of the lightest, and 
until within a few months no one so much as 
dreamed that the one could be changed into 
the other any more than that wood can be 
changed into gold, liut if such a transforma- 
tion as this is possible, what may we not e.xpect 
in the future ? However, this splitting up of 
radium into helium and other things is, after all, 
just the least little bit like the behavior of dyna- 
mite and gunpowder. Most explosives are 
solids which on occasion shake apart suddenly 

do the same thing in as few minutes. But the 
range must be fed with coal several times each 
day, while the radium, sealed tightly in a bottle 
and untouched, will continue to give off heat 
for nobody knows how long. 

However, in spite of the convenience of 
continuous heat without fire, it will be a long 
time before radium will supplant fuel. At 
five thousand dollars the grain, which was lately 
the price of pure radium salts, a piece the size 
of a hen's egg would cost from three to five 
million dollars. Fortunately, for most purposes 


with a flash of light into gases many thousand 
times less heavy than themselves. Radium 
does something not so very different, excejjt 
that the e.vplosion, instead of being all over in 
a few hundredths of a second, probably lasts 
for several thousand years. 

Like gunpowder and the rest, radium, as it 
slowly explodes, gives off considerable heat. 
A pound of it would boil a quart of coffee in 
about two hours. This, to be sure, does not 
seem so remarkable, since a kitchen range will 

the substance need not be absolutely pure, so 
that radium good enough to enable one to see 
most of these strange things for himself can be 
had for less than one dollar the grain. 

There is also anotiier reason besides the cost 
why radium is not likely to become a household 
convenience : it would very likely be extremely 
dangerous to stay in a room with a few pounds 
of it. Between the scorching light and the fu- 
sillade of tiny bullets, a piece the size of a dried 
pea w'ill kill a small animal such as a mouse 





or a guinea-pig ; and two or three men who 
were rash enough to carry a little tube contain- 
ing radium in their waistcoat pockets developed 
dangerous sores where the skin was pelted most 
vigorously. Still, like a great many other dan- 
gerous things, radium may be put to good 
use. Many very dreadful diseases, such as can- 
cer, malaria, and, worst of all, consumption, are 
caused by minute living things which grow in 
the body. Perhaps it will be possible to bom- 
bard these with radium until they are killed 
and the patient is cured. Already this has been 
tried successfully with cancer, but it has to be 
done cautiously — just enough to destroy the 
disease germs, but not so much as to injure the 
healthy tissues of the patient. 

Nevertheless, in spite of all its various char- 
acteristics, this strange metal is not altogether 
unique. There are two others, actinium and 
polonium, concerning which we know even less 
than of radium, and two much more common 
ones, uranium and thorium, all very heavv, and 
all with the same wonderful properties in differ- 
ent measure. Uranium has long been used to 
color glass and has some remarkable qualities 
of its own. Thorium, as thorium oxid, forms 
the mantle of Welsbach burners. All these act 
like radium, and doubtless there are others 
also ; but radium is many thousand times more 
powerful than the two commoner metals. 
Still, a Welsbach mantle, even when cold and 
dark, gives off enough X rays to take its own 
photograph after two days' exposure, and, as 
everybody knows, when heated in the gas-flame, 

gives much more ordinarv light than 
other hot substances. It is quite pos- 
sible, too, that all metals are slightly 
"radioactive," just as they are all slightly 
magnetic, though only iron, and to a 
less degree nickel and cobalt, are strik- 
ingly so. At any rate, the more these 
strange powers are investigated the more 
universal they are found to be. Evi- 
dently we are now only just at the be- 
ginning of a series of startling discov- 
eries, so that no one can so much as 
guess what marvels may appear in the 
next few years. 

Edwin Tennev Brewster. 


There are beetles in England (of the family 
known to scientists as Tekphoricice) that are 
popularly called soldiers and sailors, the red 
species being called by the former name and 
the blue species by the latter. 

These beetles are among the most quarrel- 
some of insects and fight to the death on the 
least provocation. It has long been the custom 
among English boys to catch and set them fight- 
ing with each other. They are as ready for bat- 
tle as game-cocks, and the victor will both kill 
and eat his antagonist. 

Some of our American ground-beetles also 
are often called soldiers, because they capture 
other insects for food by chasing or springing 
upon them. W. H. WAL^rsLEV. 




[want to KNOW" 


Wii.i.DUGiiiiY, Ohio. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I would like to ask you a 
question. Will you tell me, please, why caterpillars are 


sometimes seen moving around on the ground in the 
early springtime? Why are they not in cocoons? 


Some caterpillars hibernate ; that is, the insect 
spends the winter in the larval state, not chang- 
ing to the cocoon form until spring. " Hur- 
rying along like a caterpillar in the fall," is a 
common e.vpression among the country people 
in certain parts of New England referring to a 
person who is walking rapidly. Probably this 
saying originated from seeing the caterpillar 
of the Isabella tiger-moth. Its evident haste 
to get somewhere in the autumn is almost 
painful to witness. A nervous an.xiety is ap- 
parent in every movement of its body, and 
frequently its shining black head is raised high 
in the air, and moved from side to side, while 
taking its bearings. Sometimes it seems to 
have made a mistake, and turns sharply and 
hastens in another direction. 

In the spring it resumes its activity, feeds for 
a time, then makes a blackish brown cocoon 
composed largely of its hair. It was doubtless 
this caterpillar, or one of the same liabit of hiber- 
nating till the spring, that induced the question 
from our young observer. Some caterpillars 
hibernate immediately after emerging from the 
egg ; others have one or more molts, that is, 
" changing their overcoats," as some young 
people call molting. Some insects exist in the 
caterpillar state for ten months, others for only 
one or two months. .Some pass the winter in the 
egg state, others in the larval, others in cocoon 
or chrysalis, and a few in the winged form. 


linsTo.N', Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I would like very much to 
know why there are so many worms on the sidewalks 
after tlie rain, and what they are called. 

Your interested reader, 

Marjorie Parks. 

Earthworms cannot live without moisture ; 
their food is also dependent upon it. During 
droughts they burrow down to moisture often 
three or four feet, and it is only after rains, 
during humid weather, or in damp earth that 
they may be dug up just under the surface or 
are seen reaching far out of their holes or even 
traveling on the surface to new localities, gen- 
erally at night. Vegetable mold often grows 
upon pavements, and worms frequent such 
places. Often they crawl upon the hard side- 
walks and cannot burrow down again. They 
are found in greatest numbers wherever there 
is decaying vege- , _^ 
tation. Worms are 
friends of man and 
serve an important 
economic purpose. 
-S. F. .\. 


-Mamtowoc, Wis. 

Dear St. Nich- 
olas : This spring I 
noticed many holes on 
the lawn which were 
about the size of those 
that a worm tnakes. 
liut large blades of 
grass had been pulled 
into them, the toj^s 
of which stood up in 
crowded tufts. I no- 
ticed now and then a 
few red ants about 
them, but the holes 
were much largerthan 
those of an ant, and I 
did not see them carry 
any grains of sand. 
Do you know if this 
was the hole of red or 
black ant or a worm? 

Litta Yoelchert. 


.Shown by culling away ihc eanh to 
expose ihe burrow. BLidcs of grass, 
minule pebbles, and such things arc 
drawn into ihe hole lo induce the growth 
of mold on which the worm feeds. 

Holes on the lawn are ma'de by earthworms, 
the common Liimhricus tcnrsiris, also called 




angleworms, fishworms, and redworms. They 
draw into their holes not only blades of grass, 
but small pebbles, twigs, leaves, moss, etc., any- 
thing that may induce the growth of organic 
substances such as mold, minute mosses, and 
lichens, upon which the worms feed. They 
also swallow little stones, gravel, sand, and 
twigs, not taking time to clean the mold from 
these, depending on digestion for that. 

how a starfish sees. 

New York Citv. 
Dear St. Nicholas : Will you please tell nie how 
a starfish can see ? 

Your loving reader, 

Helen' D. Huntington (age lo). 

They have red eye-spots on the end of each 
arm, which enable them to see a little, though 
not verv well. 


the willow gall. 

Glens Falls, N. Y. 
Tnii w-iLLou gall. Dear St. Nicholas: For the 

first time that I have gathered 
pussy-willows 1 have seen the cone (or something) 
inclosed on the willow. Can you tell me the name of it ? 
Is there any germ or anything that makes it grow? 
And oblige, Carlton King. 

The specimen you send is the pine-cone 
willow gall, one of the most curious of plant 
growths. Evidently it is not the seed-cone of 
the willow, for the seeds of the willow, as we 
all know, are scattered from the woolly " pus- 
sies " or catkins. If you will gather a few of 
these pine-cone willow galls in a glass jar you 
will some time later find one or more flies in 
the jar. These are the flies that lay their eggs 
in the end buds of the willow. The larvae or 
worm-like stages of the insect grow inside this 
cone from the egg, till they transform into 
pupae, then to the full- 
grown flies. One can 
study these willow galls 
at any season of the 
year and find much of 

Pick apart the scales 
of the cone and you will 
see how wonderfully the 
willow provides a nest 
for the intruder. 

the red squirrel sometimes robs BIRDS' NESTS. 

Chilowav, Delaw..\re Co., N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Behind our house stands a little 
maple-tree, so close that the hmbs touch the house. In 
this tree there is a robin's nest. I was sitting in the 
window one day when I heard a great noise among the 
robins. On looking out I saw a red squirrel sitting in 
the nest with an egg in his paws, e.ating it as he would 
a nut. I opened the window and frightened him away. 
He ran up in the leaves and hid. That afternoon I went 
out to see if he had left any eggs, and found the nest 
empty. Just then the squirrel jumped into another tree, 
and I told a boy who was with me to shake him out, and 
down he came flat on his back. I jumped down and 
followed him, but he was too quick for nie and got away. 
Westlev S. Burnham (age 12). 

The red squirrel has many interesting ways, 
but, I am very sorry to say, he also has many 
petty vices. 


CoLU.MBi'S, Ohio. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Yesterday evening mama cut 
in two, across the grain, a Spanish onion. The green 
central parts began to sprout at once, and in five min- 
utes projected a quarter of an inch above the cut surface. 
One could plainly see them rising. Mama says she has 
noticed this before in Spanish onions but never in the 
common kinds. Yours truly, 

Bernard Ray.mund. 

This is evidently due to the lengthwise 
pressure of the growing stem within the onion. 





ami is not real sprouting or growth. Cutting 
the onion in two parts releases this sprouting 
portion, which later would have to push through 
the outer layer at the top of the onion. I cut 
open several and was much interested in the 
ap[)arent quick growth you describe. 

queer places for nests. 

South Coventry, Conn. 

Uk.\r St. Nicholas: I have taken St. Nicholas 
for about four years. It is the nicest magazine I know 
of. I thought I would write to tell you about some 
queer places for birds' nests. One Sunday last month 
I went to walk in the afternoon with my father, mother, 
uncle, and two aunts. We went up to the cemetery, 
and while I was walking near the old cannon I saw a 
bluebird fly away from it. I went around and looked 
into the cannon, and there, sure enough, was a bird's 
nest. Another bird near my home was known to build 
in a knot-hole of a clothes-line post. Still another bird 
built a nest in the eaves trough on my home. 

Vour loving reader, Editei C. Tracy (age lo). 

This is tlie month for nest-building. Be on 
the lookout for a nest in an interesting and un- 
usual place and " write to St. Nicholas about 
it." Also look for nests that are near a much 
traveled path or road. A nest in a sculptured 
lion's mouth is interestingly described on page 
726 of this number of St. Nicholas. 



a bird s nest in an oi-d cannon. 

grabbed a huge snake. 

Philadkli'hia, Pa. 
Dkar St. Nicholas: I would like to tell you of a 
snake I chanced to meet last summer. Not far from 
the place where I lived was a little pond just teeming 
with snakes and frogs and painted turtles. One day, as 
I was walking by this pond with my net, I saw some tad- 
|)oles which I wished to get. I got down on my knees 
and put one hand in the water, when, to my surprise, 
I found I had put it on a snake about two inches 
thick. I took my hand away, but the snake did 
not move. Now, when I catch a snake I gener- 
ally take hold just behind its head, but in this 
case it was rather hard to tell which was the 
head, as only a few coils were visible. I selected 
a spot which I thought was near the head, but 
'when I pulled it up, it turned out to be very near 
the tail. It was like pulling on a rope; but as I 
was not very anxious to meddle with a snake 
of that size, and had not got it very near the head, 
I let it go. I will try to describe it. It had a dark 
brown back, with dull red spots at intervals, and 
a pale yellow abdomen. I have caught small 
snakes like it. Up in the Pocono Mountains I 
once caught a snake which was bright green. 
Can you tell me what kind of snakes they were 
and what to feed them on ? Yours truly, 

TiiEoDORK M. Chambers. 

The larger snake was a water-snake 
[N'atrix fasciata sipedon), a species semi- 
aquatic in habits, and feeding upon fi.shes, 
tadpoles, frogs, and toads. The small 
reptile was a green snake [Liopeltis ver- 
iialis). It feeds upon soft-bodied insects. 


BY AU.EIXE I.ANGFORD, AGE 15. {Cas/l Prize.) 

How do we know when 
June is here? 

By science, or logic, or cal- 
endar year? 

Oh, no ; we know by the 
bright blue sky. 

By the white clouds lazily 
floating by. 

By the soft, cool breeze as it 
nods the trees, 

By the singing birds, by the 
hum of bees. 

By the nodding rose, by the 
daisy white. 

The primrose dainty, the 
cowslip bright. 

The golden yellow of dafTo. 

The soft haze over the sleep- 
ing hills ; 

By the woodland glen, by 
field and fen, 

We know that June-time has 
come again ; 

Our chief regret this 
month is that we have not 
room for even a tenth of the 
especially interesting ' ' Fam- 
ily Traditions," every one 
worthy of preservation. We 
did not imagine that so much 
interesting history — and not 
altogether family history, 
but history of the nation as 
well — existed in the form of 
stories told about the home 

fireside, handed down from one generation to another, 
each as precious as a gem to the owners, and likewise 
to the historian of some future day. The League 
editor would urge every one of his contributors to pre- 
serve in written and detailed form every bit of such 
material to be obtained. The country is comparatively 

By the robin's red, by the 

bluebird's blue. 
By the waving grass and the 

pearls of dew, 
By the first pink flush in the 

sky of gray, 
.*\nd the lark's glad song at 

the peep of day. 
By the murm'ring brawl, the 

hemlock tall, 
By the cricket's chirp, and 

the wood-bird's call. 
By the soft faint music of 

lowing kine, 
By the wind's sweet song in 

the darkened pine, 
By the lily buds on the rip- 
pling pool, 
.\nd the gray-green moss in 

the deep woods cool. 
By the brook's low croon, and 

the thrush's gay tune. 
We know, we know when 

the month is June. 


nation will be forgotten 

new and its traditions are 
still closely allied with facts 
and the details of occur- 
rence. Some day it will be 
old. The traditions, unless 
preserved in writing, will 
have become legends and 
myths ; names will be lost 
or changed beyond recogni- 
tion, and many of those wlio 
were a part of our history 
and helped to make a great 
and unhonored dust. To 
preserve the story of their deeds is to preserve the 
glory of those who, in days that are now no more, 
with Washington and Lafayette and other historic 
heroes, linked their lives and fortunes in the upbuild- 
ing of the foremost republic in all history. 




In making awards, contributors' ages are considered. 

Verse. Ca.sli prize, Alleine Langford (age 15), 7 V.. 
31I St., Jamestown, N. \'. 

Gold b.idycs. Saidee E. Kennedy (age 17), Merryall, 
I'.-i., and Margaret Stevens (ai;c 13), 1150 I'acific St., 
Hrooklyn, \. N . 

Silver badges. Dorothea Bechtel (age 10), Carpen- 
ter, Del., and Anna C. Heffern (aL;ei2), 4519 King- 
sessing -Vve. , l'liiladel|iliia, I'a. 

Prose. Clold badges, Jeannie Read Sampson (age 14), 
Uox 375, Sbclbyville, Ky., Catharine H. Straker (age 
11), Shorncliff, Corbridgc, Xorthumtierlaiid, luigland, 
and Sophronia Moore Cooper (age 11), Oxford, X. C. 

Silver badges, Alice Wickenden (age 15), Ste. .^dile, 
Terrebonne Co . W Q., Canada, 
Morris Bishop (age 10), 77 War- 
ing I'lace, Vonkcrs, \. Y., and 
Helen Piatt (age 9), Prettyman 
.\ve.. Ml. Tabor, Ore. 

Drawing. Gold badges, Eileen 
Lawrence Smith (age 14), 31 
I'orlnian Sq., London, Lng., 
Fanny C. Storer (age 16), 418 
S. 6th St., Goshen, Ind., and Sara 
Homans (age 11), 494 Bute St., 
.Norfolk, Va. 

Silver liadgcs, Frances Bryant 
Godwin (age 11), Roslyn, X. \'., 
and Robert Edmund Jones (age 
16), Milton, \. II. 

Photography. ( iokl badges, 
Mary Goldthwaite (age 16), 411 
Wlfiii' .\\i'., .Marion, Ind., and 
Gertrude M. Howland (age 11), 
Conway, Mass. 

Silver badges, J. Stuart Jef- 
feries (age 15), 431 4th .\ve.. 
Braddock, Pa., Farris B. Smith 
(age 14), 200 X. .Main St., Franl.- 
lin, Ind., and Corinne Bowers 
(age 13), 173 1;. .Market St.. 
CIiaiiiluT'^burg, Pa. 

Wild Animal and Bird Pho- 
tography, lirst prize, " Skunk," 
by Georgina E. McCall (age 17), 
Strathinorc Ranch, Eden, Concho 
Co., Tex. Second prize, "White- 
crested Nuthatch," by Samuel 
Dowse Robbins (age 16), Box 64, 

lielmont, Mass. third Prize, "Wild Ducks," by L. S. 
Taylor (age 13), 17 Linden St., Somersworth. X. II. 

Puzzle-making. Clold badges, Harry I. Tiffany (age 
16), .MiddUburg, Xa.., and Doris Hackbusch (ag_- 15), 
511 North Esplanade, Leavenworth, Kan. 

Silver badges, Helen F. Searight (age 13), 327 King 
St., Port Chester, Pa., and Marie Warner (age 9), 
1900 Madison -\ve., Baltimore, Md. 

Puzzle-answers. Gold badges, Elizabeth Thurston 
(age 12), 50 Howard St., Melrose Ilglds., Mass., and 
Grace Haren (age 12), 4575 Forest Park Boul., St. 
Louis, Mo. 

Silver badges, E. Boyer (age 14), 444 Spadina Ave., 
Toronto, Can., and Evaline Taylor (age 10), Wissa- 
hickon Heights, Philadelphia, Pa. 

Chapter Entertainment. First prize, fifty dollars" 
worth of books to be selected from The Century Co's. 
catalogue, won by Chapter 541, of West Newton, 
Mass. Total amount of receipts, $75.76, to be 
given to the Winning Farm, 3 branch of the Fresh -Air 

Fund. It is a large farm near Lexington to which poor 
children are taken in the summer for less than a dollar 
a week. M its head is Dr. George L. Perin, pastor of 
the Every-Day Church in Boston. 

We regret to say that while a number of other 
chapters competed, their reports have not been received, 
hence there will be no second and third awards. 


{Gold Badge.) 

Mtss Araisei.i.a Geraldixe 

Came tripping o'er the grass. 
And oh, so stiff and starched and trim 

You ne'er did see a lass. 

She did not shout nor run nor 

Hut hovered here and there. 
Just like a big blue butterfly 

With shining golden hair. 

.•>he ]>lucked the daisies as they 
.\-smiling 'midst the green ; 
Then suddenly she spied, quite 
.\ donkey gaunt and lean. 

Said .'\rabella Geraldine, 
"What can that creature be? 
But hark ! his mouth is open wide, 
He 's going to sing to me!" 

The music it loud and long 
And rendered with great skill. 
It woke the echoes, 
and they rang 
From every distant 

Miss Arabella? AYell, 
the last 
I saw of that small 

Was just a piece of 
flying l)lue 
.Vnd fast-receding 


{Gold Badge.) 
I.N the early days of the Confederacy, as there was no 
arsenal in the South, my Grandfather Todd was sent as 
a spy to Norfolk to find out how shot, firearms, etc., 
were made. He had found out, when some F'ederals 
captured him. .Vs President Lincoln had married 
grandfather's sister, he was not put in prison, but was 
taken to Lincoln's house. Mr. Lincoln wanted liim to 
give his parole, but he replied, "No; if 1 get a chance 
I shall escape."' He was allowed to go wherever he 
wished, but two detectives always went with him. He 
walked and rode out often, hoping to escape. One 
night he went to an entertainment, and he and the de- 
tectives stepped out of the carriage and went in the hall. 
Grandfather stopped before the hjt-rack as if to adjust 
his tie. The two detectives, seeing him in the house, 
mixed in the crowd in the next room. 




Grandfather, seizing the opportunity, went out quick- 
ly, and, getting in the carriage, told the coacliman to 
drive him to the Potomac. The driver, not knowing 
that he was a prisoner, obeyed. Grandfather got out 
and said, "Take the President my compliments for the 
use of his carriage." Then, jumping into the Potomac, 
he swam across and escaped. 

In the twilight I often like to hear mother tell about 
how he made his escape. 


by dorothea bechtel 

(age IO). 

{Silver Badge.) 

Oh, that I were an artist! I 

would paint June 
As in my thoughts I " ve often 

pictured her : 
A maiden with cherries on 

her smiling lips 
And sunshine in her flowing 

golden hair I 


(age II). 

{Gold Badge.) 

Il may interest the read- 
ers of the St. Nicholas to 
know that mother possesses 
a document signed by George 
^Vashington in the year 1796, 
making an American ances- 
tor of mine judge of the ter- 
ritory northwest of the river 
Ohio. This man had a wife named Rebecca. On the 
second Sunday after she was married, she had walked 
to church between her husband and Timothy Pickering, 
Washington's Secretary of State. We also have the 
dress she wore on that day. I have worn it once my- 
self on my birthday, when I dined late with my parents, 
and mv brothers were asked to meet me. 




When there was a rising of Indians 
in the Northwest, and all the people 
had to crowd into the forts, my great- 
great-great-grandfather took his turn 
doing sentry duty outside the fort to 
set an example. My ancestress used 
to go out and walk up and down be- 
side him, as that was the only quiet 
time she had to talk with him. She 
was afraid of the Indians, of course, 
but her great courage did not let her 
remain in for that. 

Once, when there was a madman, 
armed with knives, on a river boat, 
of whom every one was afraid, her 
only son was made a special constable 
by his father to go and arrest him. 

I do not know anything more about 
her, but this will be enough to show 
that my ancestress was an unusually 
brave woman. 



(Gold Badge.) 
I SIT in the window corner. 

Looking out into the night, 
While down on the snow beneath me 

The moonbeams shine so bright. 

My brains are tired of rhyming, 
And my rhymes seem out of tune ; 

For it 's hard to write in windy March 
A song of sunny June. 


COOPER (.\GE 11). 

(Gold Badge.) 
At the close of the French 
War, in 1756, my great- 
great-grandfather, Stephen 
.Moore, was appointed Dej)- 
uty Postmaster-general in 
Quebec, with the Candida Dis- 
trict under his management. 
-General Holdiman, then in 
command in Canada, had oc- 
casion in midwinter to send 
an express to Sir Jeffery Am- 
herst, the commander-in- 
chief in America, residing at 
New York. He applied to 
my forefather to look out for 
a person qualified for the 
purpose and acquainted with 
all the wilderness through 
which it was necessary to 

Neither the St. Lawrence 
nor Lakes were sufficiently 
hard to bear sleigh or horses, 
and the despatches required haste and immediate con- 

My ancestor, after a few hours' preparation, told the 
general he had found such a person, and the letters 
were immediately handed to him. He put a pound or 
two of dressed provisions in his knapsack, put on his 
skates, slung his blanket and snowslioes on his back. 





anil started from Qucliec, on the .St. Law- 

On arrival at Montreal, lie hired a 
couple of faithful Mohawks, armed as 
a guard, and all of tlieni on snowshocs 
(the snow very <leep and no vestige of a 
track), proceeded through the wilderness 
liy the shortest course known to his In- 
dian guides, to the north end of Lake 
Champlain. There they took to the lake, 
and proccL'ded on it and Lake George to 
its south boundary, and from there to the 
Hudson. At Albany he discharged his 
Indians, took to his skates, and kept on 
them until he reached Colonel Philipsc"-- 
scat at Yonkcrs, twenty miles from .\'c\\ 

lie fell through the ice twice before 
he relinquished the frozen Hudson. 
Kroni Colonel Philipse's he w.alked to 
town, and delivered his dcs]>alches to Sir 
JefTery Amherst on the tenth day after 
leaving Quebec. The general told my 
great-great-gr."indfather that his position 
as Deputy I'ostm.ister-general to the 
King's army forbade his offering any pecuniary re- 
muneration, but handsomely insisted upon his acce|>- 
tance of a large sum as postage, presenting him with 
one hundred guineas. 


{^Silver Badge. ) 
Flow gently, ye streams ! 

Sing, sing, ev'rybird! 
Sun, sc.itter thy beams! 
.'Vnd let there be heard 
With great acclamation 
In tongue of each nation 
This glad proclam.ition : 
'T is June 

Now open, ye roses! 

And, grasses, spring up! 
Joy-filled, it o'erflows. 

Doth, now, nature's cup ; 
The earth it is ringing 
Witli jubil.ant singing 
Of this joyous bringing 

07 June. 

Wind, bear the glad news 

From [lalm unto pine! 
'T is summer! .-Viid 
This duty but thine? 
With no lamentation 
Let each tongue .and nation 
Shout this proclamation : 
'T is June- 





{Silver Batlg,:) 

.S r. Nicholas is alw.ays very welcome, but this month 
especially so ; for the first thing I saw, on opening it, was 
a story on Cecile Daubigny's bedroom ; and it will give 
me an opportunity of telling you that which will always 
remain as a family tr.adition with us. 

We have been closely connected with the surviving 
members of Daubigny's family for many years — that is 
to say. Monsieur B. Daubigny, his second son, and 
Madame Karl Dauliigny, tlie widow of the eldest son. 
Cecile Daubigny died several years ago. 

Our house was just across the road from the \'illa 
des Vallees, and we five children have spent most of 
our time in the Daubigny house, and all of us have 
slept in that bedroom, w liich we know by heart, as well 
.as the rest of the house. 
Not only the little bedroom 
lias been decorated, but also 
the studio, hall, and dining- 
room. One of our favorite 
corners on rainy days was 
the big sofa in the corner 
tif the studio, reading the 
■'.\ral)ian Nights," or in 
the large, cool, tiled hall, 
where we would sew or 
play with our dolls. 

We knew every corner 
in the garden where nuts, 
strawberries, violets, and 
the best apples and cherries 
could be found, and where 
also grew the finest ivy 
leaves, which we used to 
put around our bouquets 
of violets and ilaisies. 

Tiierc was also the Bofifi, 
the boat on which Daubigny 
spent so much of his time ; 
it was placed .at the end of 
the lawn, where it was 
slowly decaying. On the 
anniversaries of the death of the two Daubignys, Ma- 
dame L')aubigny always placed on the Botin bouquets, 
which we helped her to make. 

On our birthdays we used to go over there to sleep, 
which we thought was great fun, though I hardly know 
why, as we spent most of our time there in any case, so 
much so that most strangers thought we w ere Madame 
Daubigny's children. , 

The last week we were at .Auvers, Madame Daubigny 
kindly lent us the house, as ours was sold. 

'reflections." UV COKIN.NE bowers, age 13, (SILVER BADGE.) 




My twelfth birthday came just at 
that time, and Monsieur B. Dauhigny 
and Madame Karl Daubigny gave 
me an old-fashioned ring which be- 
longed to Madame C. F. Daubigny. 
We write to each other very often, 
and live in the hope of meeting each 
other again in dear old Auvers. 



Little birdies in the sky — 

Don't you see them flying high, 
Up above the great big clouds, 

Like an arrow shooting by? 



( Silver Badge. ) 

One of the customs of the buca- 
neers was to bury a man or boy, 
preferably a boy, with their treasure. 
When they had amassed enough 
treasure they would set out in search 
of a suitable boy. 

Alas I my great-great-great-grand- 
father once happened to be that boy. He was captured 
and taken aboard Captain Kidd's ship — for it was Kidd 
himself who had captured him — till tliey could find a 
spot to bury their ill-gotten gains. 

When they finally hit upon such a spot, 
my ancestor was rowed ashore in a boat 
well guarded with bucaneers. Several 
more boats came, one of which was laden 
with some mysterious-looking chests and 

When they reached the shore the buca- 
neers' attention was fully occupied by the 
boxes of treasure, as my forefather rightly 
concluded the mysterious boxes to be. 
"Now is my chance," thought my forefa- 
ther, and, accordingly, he "lit out." He 
found a hollow log, and crawled into it. 
This saved his life, though he did not 
know it at the time. 

In a few minutes a spider decided that as the mouth 
of the log was quite a thoroughfare for flies, it would be 
immensely to his advantage to spin a web over that 
part, and, acting upon the thought, he spun 

Meanwhile there was great ex- 
citement among the pirates when 
they discovered that their bird had 

They sent out parties as far as 
they dared in search of him. A 
party passed the hollow log, but 
they said : 

"He can't be in here; see, a 
spider is spinning a web over the 

In the morning my forefather 
escaped and found his way to a 

I do not believe this story is per- 
fectly true, for it could hardly be ex- 
pected not to be exaggerated in 
some of the particulars, as it was 
never put in writing before. The "reflections ' 
main facts, however, are true. age 15. t.-i 

AGE 15. 





(.-/ Former Pnzc-wi?i7ier.) 
In the sunrise-time, enraptured, 
By its potent magic captured. 

By its stilly charm enfolded, 
As the poet wandered idly, 
Swept his gaze a bit more widely. 

Seeing shapes no mortal inoldt-d 
Save in free imagination. 
Saw this wonder presentation : 

Riotous and helter-skelter. 

In the sunny south slope's shelter. 

Myriads of nature's fairest 
Children growing, budding, blowing. 
With a vigor overflowing. 

With a beauty of the rarest. 
Making lune a month of pleasure, 
Peace, and joy in endless measure. 

Oh, how tawdry is ambition, 
Vainer than vain repetition! 

E'en the lowest of the lowly 
Seem devoted to creation. 
Seem to ofler veneration, 

Seem inspired by something holy, 
Preach contentment, zeal for doing, 
Virtue giving, life renewing. 



{Sih'er Badge. ) 
A LONG time ago, in the year 1S47, my 
great-grandfather crossed the plains to 
Oregon in company with some other set- 

They traveled in wagons drawn by oxen. 
One day, when they were still a long 
way from Oregon, some Indians drove off 
the oxen. 

The travelers did not know what to do ; 
they did not have provisions enough to last 
very long, and they would starve before 
thty could get any more. 
My great-grandfather set his teeth, took some pro- 
visions, and started out, alone and on foot, to find the 

He traveled for two days. Toward evening of the 
second day, he saw some Indians 
in a ravine, and at the foot of this 
ravine grazed the oxen. He was 
unarmed ; he had only a stick in his 
hand : nevertheless he resolved to 
get those oxen. 

He walked down to where they 
were feeding, and, in full sight of 
the Indians, he drove the oxen 
away. The Indians were so aston- 
ished at his bravery and daring that 
they did not move. 

The Indians greatly admire brav- 
ery, and perhaps they thought that 
such a brave man ought to keep his 

My great-grandfather drove the 
oxen back and the settlers resumed 
\RT jEFFEKiES their journey. I do not think their 
bADGE.) ' oxen were ever stolen again. 






The days are long and sunny, 
.\nd the robin sings Iiis best, 

And the bobolink is ciUing 
In the grass beside his nest. 

The boys are off a-fishing 
In the stream down by the 

.\nd mama 's rocking baby, 
.•\nd everything is still. 

I 'm getting very drowsy, 
And I can't read any more, 

.•\nd I think I '11 take a little 
Right <lo\vn here on the floor. 

■* SKUNK. 

(.KdKi.lNA K. McCALL, AGE I7. 



On a d.irk, foggy night in .\ugust, 1 776, Washington, 
with his army, m.-ide his memoralilc rotrcnt from Long 
Island. The British had a 



.Most families have a tradition, 
but there are few which date back 
.as far as the early Norsemen. 

The Mudies were great vikings, 
who were fjimous not only for their 
great .and endless courage, skill, 
and strength, but for their mercy 
toward those weaker than them- 
selves. They were never known 
to bring about any revenge, ex- 
cept once, when a member of their 
family was taken prisoner and the 
"Blood Eagle" cut upon him. 
For a long time they sought the 
man who had done this, and, when 
they found him, treated him even 
as he had treated their relative, 
t became the custom for the vikings 
islands round Scotland to l)e stood 
they died, instead of being 



large force of well-trained 
soldiers, across the sound, 
on close watch for any signs 
of the colonists — or rebels, 
as they were called. .'Ml 
of these things made it dan- 
gerous for Washington to 
withdraw. It is true he the darkness and the 
fog on his side, and his 
men, while "small in num- 
ber, were bold in spirit " ; 
still, unless the camp-fires 
had been kept burning un- 
til the army had reached 
New York, it is prob.ible the undertaking would 
have been a loss. My great- 
grandfather, with two or 
three others, were stationed 
as gu.ards to keep up the camp-fires. They were the 
last to depart from the isl.ind. While the fires blazed 
high and bright, they quietly left and li.astened to rejoin 
the main army. The English, seeing the fires, were 

deceived .at first, and missed their 

opportunity of capturing the 


Oh, June she brings the roses. 

So scented and so fair ; 
I love to smell their perfume. 

That fills the summer air. 

Of yellow there are n't many. 

Of white there are a few ; 
Red and ]>ink are plentiful. 

All sparkling with the dew. 

'T is June that brings the straw- 

So luscious and so sweet ; 
I like to sit in shade of trees 

And eat and eat and eat. 


In later days 

who inhabited the 

up in their armor when 

given a burning journey to Valhalla, with their ships 

and slain followers. Until about fifty years ago two of 
our ancestors stood thus, 
and the nurses used to 
frighten the children by 
tolling them that the Mu- 
dies would fetch them. 

My grandfather, the 
founder of Mudie's Libra- 
ry, was having some pipes 
mended in the library, and 
the workmen noticed that 
the walls sounded as if there 
were another room next to 
the one they were in. 

Upon examination a 
sealed door was discovered. 
This was opened, and a 
room found containing sil- 
ver, etc., of the time of 
Charles I, some of which 
was very valuable, and giv- 
en to the British Museum. 




^■\ I. ^ I AVI UK, M 


EVA LEVY (age 15). 

Oh, the roses all are blooming, 

pink and yellow, white and 

.\nd the lilucts shy are peeping 
now from out their grassy 

.Vnd the Iilucbclls all are chiming 
low a merry, merry tune. 

And my heart sings to their mu- 
sic, "It is June, oh, it is 

Blue and cloudless are the hea 

vens, soft and balmy is the air, 
.\nd the breezes all are whisper 

ing, "\^'as there ever month 

so fair? " 
.\11 around the birds are caroling 

a ha]^py, 'happy tune, 
.\nd myheart joins inwithrn])ture, 

"It is June, oh, it is June! " 




And the softly flowing river over which the willows nod 
Sings, as ever on it ripples, of the wondrous love of God. 
And the sunshine and the flowers seem to catch and 

hold the tune, 
And my heart joins in with gladness, "It is June, oh, il 

is June! " 

Every creature feels the happiness pervading all the air; 
Every creature seems to sing in praise of June, that 

month so rare. 
Oh, the whole world seems a-rlnging, and the burden 

of the tune 
Suits the words mv lieart is singing — "It is June, oh, 

it is June I ' 



In the olden limes when hand-engines were used, mv 
twice-great-uncle, Isaac Harris, was an active volunteer 
fireman, as most of the men were then. It was the 
custom in those days to keep in the houses two or 





When my grandmother was a little girl she used to 
visit at Mount Vernon, Yirginia, a great deal, as she 
was a great favorite of Mrs. Washington, the mother of 
Augustin Washington, the last owner of Mount Vernon, 
and was also her cousin. 

When she grew older, this cousin gave her a pair of 
gold shoulder sleeve-buttons, which were always said to 
have belonged to Pocahontas, who wore them to fasten 
her sleeves on the shoulder when she was presented at 
court in England. 

This pair of shoulder sleeve-buttons consist of four 
little buttons; each two are linked together, as some 
cufl^-buttons are, only these buttons are a great deal 

One reason I like this story so much is because I 
have one of the buttons on a necklace. 


;Y sibyl KENT STONE (AGE I4). 

Oh, a ruddy shaft of sunlight now paints 

the whole world gold ; 
The dew is sparkling on the grass, the air 

is fresh and cold. 
And the countless cobwebs glimmer, all wet 

and white with dew ; 
Robin-redbreasts sing with joy, and sunlit 

skies are blue. 


three leather buckets, to be used in cases of emergency. 
When there was a fire, every one would seize their 
buckets, fill them with water, and rush to help put out 
the fire. 

At the time to which I refer, the famous Old South 
Church in Boston was on fire. The date was December 
31, iSio. 

Among the first to arrive on the scene was my great- 
great-uncle, who immediately saw what needed to 
be done. So he climbed to the roof of the church, 
poured on the water, and then with an ax cut the burn- 
ing portion from the building. For this brave act he 
was presented with a massive silver pitcher by the 
citizens of Boston. 

This Isaac Harris was a mast-maker by trade, and 
furnished the masts for the famous United States 
frigate Constitutiofi, popularly known as "Old Iron- 

For June, the month of day-dreams, has 

come again tliis year ; 
Birds are sailing overhead — their countless 

songs we hear. 
The murmur of the skylark, up in the sky 

so blue. 
Seems now to say, "Oh, dreamy month, 

to thee my heart is true.*' 

Come out into the sunlight, come out and 

dream with me ; 
Come where the zephyrs gently blow, where 

drowsy hums the bee. 
Come out, my little dreamer, and sing a 

merry tune ; 
For all the birds that ever sang proclaim 

the month of June. 


BY josErniNE whitbeck (age IO). 

{Writtefi on a veiy stortuv day in Jl/iin/.-.y 

In June the cold wind never blows ; 
It never rains, nor hails, nor snows ; 
There is no slippery ice about — 
But flowers bloom day in, day out. 

It would not be so <lrear 

If fune were only here. 



One bright day, August l6, 17S2, the white men 
<»f Bryant's Station discovered some Indians skulkingin 
the edge of the woods, as if to take the fort by surprise. 
The men were prepared for an attack, except they had 
no water. The spring was a little way outside the fort. 
To get the water was the work of the women, and if the 
men went now the Indians would know that they were 
discovered. The men told the women how it was, and 

(gold badge.) 




my twice-great-grandmotlicr Johnson was ilie I'trst to 
volunteer to go. Then the other women and girls said 
they would go. Gr.indmothcr had four children in the 
fort : IJetsey, S.illie, James, and baby Kichard M. John- 
son (who afterward killed Tecumseh and was Vice- 
President of the United States). Uelsey was old 
enough to go to the spring, while Sallic took care of 
lames and Richard. The women went to the spring 
laughing and talking as if there were no Indians in 
gun-shot. They got back to the fort with the water. 
The Indians attacked the fort. .After a hard fight 
some men rode up on horseback and the Indians ran 
away. There is now a wall around the spring and 
memorial tablets to the brave women of liryanl's 


The sky is of an azure blue. 

Warm breezes softly blow. 
Pink brier-roses blossom too, 

The violet bloometh low. 

Far away on the purple hills. 

Snow melteth fast from sight ; 
The very clouds once dark and gray 

.\re now a fleecy white. 

So is the springtime of our youth, 
When wants and cares are few, 

When life's stream is a sparkling rill, 
.'\nd skies are always blue. 



The shortest tradition in our family is about the 
three men who captured Major .\ndre as he galloped 
along the Tarrytown road. My great-grandma's cousin 
said: "Vou are our prisoner; get off your horse." 
.\ monument marks the spot where they seized and 
searched him. 


(silver BADGE.) 




In the Norse mythology, Thor is the god of thunder. 
Lie fights the giants with his magic hammer, Mjollnir, 
which returns to his hand when he throws it. The 
giants are always trying to get into Asgard, the home 
of the gods, and they know if they can get hold of the 
hammer they can accomplisli their end. 

One morning when Thor awoke he could not find the 
hammer. Then he thought of tlic giants, so he sent 
Loki (the god of fire) to look for it. Loki borrowed 
the falcon-guise of Freyja (goddess of love), and flew 
away to Jotunheim, the home of the frost-giants. 
Here he saw Thrym, their chief, sitting on a mountain, 
making collars for his dogs. 

" Welcome, Loki," said he; " how fares it with the 
gods .-ind elves, and what brings you here?" 

"It fares ill with both gods and elves since you stole 
Thor's hammer," replied Loki, "and I have come to 
find it." 

The giant laughed and said, "You won't find it, for 
I have buried it eight miles underground, and I won't 
give it up unless I get Freyja for a wife." 

Loki flew back to .Asgard and told Thor, but Freyja 
indignantly refused. 

So Thor, dressed and veiled like a bride and with 
Loki disguised as a serv,ant-maid, journeyed to Jotun- 
heim. When Thrym saw them coming he ordered the 
wedding-feast prepared. The bride's appetite aroused 
Thrym's suspicions, but Loki explained that Freyja 
was so happy that she had fasted for eight days. This 
jileased Thrym very much, and he carefully lifted the 
edge of the veil, but when he saw the bride's eyes he 
jumped back the whole length of the room. 

" Why are Freyja's eyes so sharp? " he asked. 

" Oil," said Loki, " she was so an.\ious to come here 
that she has n't slept for a week." 

Thrym ordered the hammer brought in, that it might 
be used in the marriage ceremony. No sooner had the 
hammer been laid in the bride's lap than she tore ofl 
her veil, and there stood Thor, -hurling the hammer 
right and left. 

Thrym was punished, and .\sgard safe once more. 




McGURK, AGE 17. 



flew around and stung a great many 
other people. These insects were 
called Troubles. 

A long time after this. Pandora and 
Epimetheus heard a sweet little voice 
coming from the box, and after much 
coaxing they opened the box again, 
and a beautiful little creature called 
Hope flew out. She helped every 
one, and healed the wounds made by 
the Troubles. 


The St. Nicholas League is an organization of St. 
Nicholas readers. The membersliipis free. A League 
badge and an information leaflet will be mailed on appHca- 



A LONG time ago there lived, in a large house, all 
alone, a little boy named Epimetheus. At this time 
there was no trouble or sick- 
ness in the world and no one 
grew old. 

One day some one brought 
a little girl about Epime- 
theus's age to live with him. 
Her name was Pandora. 

A little while before, a 
large box had been left with 
Epimetheus, and he had 
been told never to open it, 
or to let any one else. Al- 
most as soon as Pandora 
came she asked what was in 
the box, Epimetheus told 
her that he did not know, and 
he had been told not to let 
any one open it. 

Pandora did not like it be- 
cause she could not see what 

was in it, and she soon became cross and bothered Epi- 
metheus. She tried very hard to make him let her 
open it, but he would not. 

Later, when Epimetheus went out to get some food, 
Pandora went to the box and gazed at it. At last she 
started to open it. J"St as she began to lift the lid, the 
door opened and Epimetheus came in, but Pandora did 
not hear him. He saw what she was doing, but did 
not try to stop her. When she opened the box, a great 
many little insects flew out and stung them. Soon they 




No. 710. Alfred Germann, President : Harry Hartmen, Secre- 
tary ; six members. Address, 85 Jefferson Ave., Jersey City Heights, 
X. J- 

No. 711. Nuhfer Moulton, Secretary; ten members. Address, 
Pl.-tin City, Ohio. 

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President and Secretary; five member^. Address, 537 York St., 
Camden, N. J. 

No. 713. Edwin Sides, President; Thomas Sullivan, Secretary: 
five members. Address, 10 Mill St., South CJrovel;ind, Mass. 

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six members. Address, Wellsboro, Pa. 

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Haven, Conn. 

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dred Cram, President: Dorothy 
Ridgely, Secretary ; six members. 
Address, 1925 7th Ave., New York 

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Fitz, President: Rosalind Case, 
Secretary ; three members. Ad- 
dress, Peconic, L. I., N. Y. 

No. 718. " Little Women." 
Katharine Norton, President ; 
Margaret Norton, Secretarv-; four 
members. Address, 216 Homer 
St., Newton Center, Mass. 

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dent : Alien Schauffler, Secretary ; 
eisiht members- Address, Box 437, 
Hiehland Park, 111. 

No. 720- " Bell Chapter." Ma- 
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Mooney, Secretary ; sixty mem- 
bers Address, care of Miss Fuld, 
1 30 E. I loth St. , New York 

No. 721. "Happy Hour." Celia 
Middleman, President ; Minnie 
!\liddleman, Secretary; six members. Address, 727 Lombard St, 
Philadelphia, Pa. 

No. 722. "Three Little Chickadees." Bessie Tappan, Presi- 
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Firthcliffe, N. Y. 

No. 723. Eunice Earrow, President; Joyce Rovee, Secretar>'; 
eight members. Address, Pocahontas, Iowa. 

No. 724. William White. President; Arthur Read, Secretary; 
two members. Address, 354 Clinton Rd., Brookline, Mass. 

No. 725. John O'Callaghan, President; nine members. Ad- 
dress, 113 Smith St., Roxbury, Mass. 

No. 726. Marion Peirce. President; Margaret Jaques, Secre- 
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No. 727- "Columbine." Harr>' Palmer, President ; Donald Jack- 
son, Secretary ; five members. Address, 2347 King St., Denver, Col. 
No. 728. " Tuesday Afternoon Club." Ernestine Senter, Presi- 
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No. 720. " Au Fait." Mr.rgiierite Mills, President; Marguerite 
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New York. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I have been away hrom home for some time, 
and 1 have just received the cash priie which you were so kind as to 
award me. 

Some of the League members have written that when they received 
the silver badge they thought it charming, but when thi: gold badfie 
came they thought that still more beautiful. So I may write that 
when I received the gold badge I thought it very beautiful indeed, 
but when I received the cash prize I thought that still mote beautiful. 

I never thought that I could write anything worthy of the Great 
rnattainable, as I regarded it, and I was afraid that 1 should reach 
the advanced age of eighteen without satisfying my ambition; so you 
can imagine my delight when I read my name among the awards. 

I suppose that 1 am not permitted to enter the competitions any 
longer, but I hope that you will let mc send my contributions, be- 
cause I should hate to consider myself out of the League. 

Thanking you for your kindness and encouragement, I remain. 
Yours sincerely. 

SiDOMA Deutsch. 





AGE 15. 

New York. 

Dear St. Nicholas : The other day my brother came home with 
such a long face that I immediately inc^uired the trouble. " Because 
I have no poem to recite on Lincoln's buthday," he replied. " Have 
n't you a book with some poems relating to Lincoln ? " he continued. 
" No," I answered, " bui — oh, yes ! " I excl.iimcd ; " co up to my 
room, and on my bookcase you will find the February St. Nicholas. 

He took It to school, and in the .ifternoon he came home with the 
news that the teacher had selected a poem for him to recite from the 
St. Nicholas League, written by a boy eleven years old ! But this 
was not all. She gave four more boys poems from the League, not 
allowing them to recite those that she had previously given them. 

Now, do you think of that, dear old St. Nicholas? 

Ever your devoted reader, Rita Wanninger. 

Southampton, England. 

Dear St. Nicholas: What a kind, indulgent saint you are! 
This gold badge is so beautiful that I can hardly think it is really 
mine; everybody says it is lovely, and I thank you so much for it. 
I think it is so friendly when other nations allow us to share their 
child-honors. It seems as if I must be feeling just a little bit like 
Lord Bobs with his Prussian Order of the Red Eagle, or some Eng- 
lishman who has been decorated with the French Legion of Honor. 
But I am very proud of my own national emblems, though I cannot 
wear them for anything I have done. 

Thank you again for printing my letter last October. I have now 
five AmencancorrcspondenLs wanting to exchange wild flower speci- 
mens, so you will have given pleasure to six of us. Mother wants 
you to know that I have the Bible for Children which is advertised 
in St. Nicholas. She says it is the only child's Bible she has seen 
that seems like a real I>ible, outside and in, and I love to have it. If 
ever I sliould be so very fortunate .is to win a cash prize, I wonder 
if I should be allowed to have a book instead ? Dear St. Nicholas, 
in giving me the chance to try with others, you have civen mc one 
of the best pleasures I have ever had. I read every single thing in 
the League pages, and often wish I could do as well ; but of curse I 
have a long time left to try in and my badge is a great encourage- 
ment. As I am quite a small member of St. Nicholas, I will sign 
tnyselt. Your loving little friend, Elsa Clark. 


Dear St. Nicholas : I do not know how to thank you enough 
for the lovely badge you sent me. 

Aftcr trying for two years to gain such an honor, and when I was 
despairing of ever getting such a beautiful prize, to have it coma was 
too good to be true. I'hanking you again and again, I am 

Your devoted League member, Helen F. Carter. 

Milledgeville. (iA. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I am a little army girl. My lather and 
mother and little sister have lived in an army post or on detail as 
long as I can remember. My father w.ts wounded very badly at 
San Juan Hill, so is not fit for service. We are here waiting retire- 
ment. I thought when I came here ih:ii the b.-irracks ought to be 
on three sides and ihc ofliccrs' quarters on the fourth. We had a 
little school at the last fort I was at. Most of the children arc in the 
Philippines now. Some of the children had been in Porto Rico and 
could speak Spanish like natives. I must stnp. 

Yours lovingly, Katherine Kirkwood Scott (age 9). 

Newton, N. J. 
Dear St. Nichoias: I belong to the Newton Chapter of the 
League, of which I inclose a photograph. The dog. my French 
poodle, is an honorary member of our club. We made fifty-eight 
dollars at afair last summer, which we sent to the *' Tribune" Fresh 
Air Fund. Last month we had a progressive pit party and dance at 
a hall in town and entertained about fifty guests. We had great fun. , 
Wishing success and a long life 
to the I..cague, I remain. 
Your devoted reader, 

Florence R. T. Smith. 

Chicago, III. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I can 
neverthank you enough for all you 
have done for me. Since I joined 
the League all my teachers have 
remarked how improved my liter- 
ary work is, but I think I was a 
bit doubtful until I received that 
second prize for a story that / 
made up. 

Ever your loving reader. 
Dorothea Thompson. 

Decatur, III. 

Dear St. Nichoias: Are you pleased to know that your readers 
especially enjoy certain articles? 

We think the story "Jack an' Me," by Albert Bigelow Paine, is 
one of the best little child-stories the St. Nicholas has had — and 
we appreciate the use of the word *' lovelly." Then, too, we admire 
** Happy Days," in the December number: " ribbons crack," "the 
end of a distant sound" — please have the author write some more 

With our good wishes to these two writers especially, we are 


Other appreciative and interesting letters have been received from 
Alice J. Goss, Ruth Wales, Helen P.itch, Beatrice Fagon Cockle, 
Mary Elmira Heitner, Nannie C. Barr, Slarjorie Shriver, Ada G. 
Kendall, Katherine Bagaley, Anna A. Flichtner, Elizabeth S. Mills, 
Florence R. T. Smith, Thomas J. League. Pearl Blucher, F. Ade- 
laide Hahn, Sadie Silver, Bonnie Bonner, Emily Rose Burl, Marion 
Thomas, Dulcic Power, Dorothea Porterfield, Ada H. Case, Ella 
May Davis, Maria Arpesanl, Oscar D. Stevenson, Anna Clark Bu- 
chanan. Helen J. Beshgetour, Ruth C. Stebbins, Elsa Van Nes, 
fJrace Haren, Madge Pulsford, Madge Oakley, Sally Colston, Wini- 
fred Hutchings, Rea Schimpcler, Floyd L. Mitchell, Margaret H. 
Bennett, Agnes Rutherford, Gladys V. Stuart, Frank Uberroth, 
Eltrarmr Clarice, Kttlih Raclicl Kaufman, and Helen Weidcnfeld. 


Vol. XXXI.— 96. 







Selected from more than twelve hundred contributors. 

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 honorable 
mention and encouragement. 

VERSE I. Lily Pearson 

Maijorie Meeker 
Katherine T. Halsey Elsa Clark 
Maud Dudley Shackel- Virginia Coyne 

William Laird Brown VERSE 2. jj^j.^ 

Mary Travis Heward Laura Gregg Edmund Randolph 

Marguerite Borden May Henderson Ryan Brown 

A. Elizabeth Goldberg Georgia Spears Katharine L. Marvin 


Jessie B. Coit 
Mildred Newman 
Marion Elizabeth In- 

Fern L. Patten 
Mary Hatch 
Natalie Pearson 
Eleanor Hathome 

Helen J, Simpson 
France J. Shriver 
Kathrj-n Sprague 
G. Virginia Robinson 
Marguerite Eugenie 

Florence Montague 
Urath Brown Sutton 
Laura B. Weill 
Christine Graham 
Constance Dorothy 

Eva L. Pitts 
Helen Wilson Barnes 
Gerald F. Smith 
Gratva B. Camp 
Joseph A. Allen 
Winifred Davis 
Lucy Du Bois Porter 
Aria Stevens 
Gertrude M. ScheU 
Margaret Griffith 
MargueriteClark' White 
Gladys M. McCln 
Louise Fitz 
Rex E. Daggett 
Katharine Deering 
Pauline M- Dakin 
Winnie E. Wils^ 

Marion Prince 

Elsie T. Weil 

Einily Rose Burt 

Louisa F. Spear Elsie Kimball Well' 

MyraBradwell Helmer May Margaret Bevier 

Kate Huntington Tie- Alice Braunlich 

mann Florence L. Adams 

Carl 01 sen Maude C. Douglas 

Dorothy Walker Elizabeth Lee 

Ruth Grey De Pledge Ruth T. Abbott 

Charles Irish Preston Richard Rea Mont- 

John N. Wilkinson, Jr. Dorothy Davis 
Julia Bryant Collier Elizabeth R. Marvin 
Eleanor Wyman Emelyn Ten Eyck 

Marguerite Stevenson Evelyn Corse 
Anna Loraine Wash- Mary Pemberton 
E. Vincent Millay 
Barbara Cheney 
Andrew Robinson 

Charles T. Blakeslee 
Walter Burton Nourse 
Margaret Huggins 
Marie Atkinson 
David B. Campbell 
Fayeila Crowley 
Mary E, Cromer 
Helen Waterman 


Miles S. Gates 
Philip Little 
Helen L. Slack 
Alice Paine 
Margaret A. Dobson 
Adelaide Mott 
HelenMannin^McNair Thomas H. Foley 
Maria Tillon Wead A. Sheldon Pennoyer 
Mary Thornton Marger>' Fulton 

Henry Reginald Carey James Barrett 
Evelyn Adriance Minnie Gwyn 

Kate King Morrison Phoebe Wilkinson 

Eleanor Clarke 
Allen Castleman 
May A. Bacon 
Mary E. Mead 

Sidney Moise 
Katharine Crouse 
Edith Boardman 
Caroline Latzke 

Agnes Dorothy Camp- Jessie Freeman Foster John McCoy 

bell Ruth Fletcher 

Catherine E. Campbell Mildred M. Whitney 

■"' ' " Elizabeth S. Brengle 

Marion A. Rubicam 
Margaret Budd 
Marion Phelps 

M.irie Willitt Marjorie Garland 

Olga Maria KoIfF Marion Cheney 

St.inley F. Moodie Alice Keating 

June Deming Tom Ross 

Willis L. Osbom Helen De Wolf 

John K- Wnght Bertha Moore 
John Paulding Browne Helen Mabry Boucher Marguerite Stuart 

" " ■ "... j|.jjjg[ y jj^^^j 

Frieda Rabin owitz 

Eliz.ibeth R. Van Brunt Lucy E. B. Mackenzie 
Arnold W. Jiicobson Ernest J. Clare 
Katharine Oliver Katharine Bigelow 

Isabella Howland Robert W. Foulke 

Ruth A. Johnson Charles H. Fulton 

Annie Brownie Samsell Ruth Felt 

Jessica Nelson North 
Carolyn Bulley 
Elizabeth C. Beale 
Madeleine Fuller Mc- 

Austin O'Connor 
Charles H. Price. Jr. 
Florence Isabel Miller 
Laura Brown 

Georgiana Myers Stur- Helene Esberg 


Pemberton H. Whit- 

Henrietta Craig Dow 

Elise Russell 

Louise Heffem 

Natalie Wurts 

Aurelia Michener 

Carolyn Coit Stevens 

Gertrude Louise Can- 

Gertrude Wilcox 

Marie C. Wennerberg 

Dorothea M. Dexter 

Daisy E. Breltell 

Anita Bradford 

Mary Yeula Westcott 

Helen M. Spear 

Beulah H. Ridgeway 

Doris Francklyn 

Katharine Monica 

B. A. Mann 

Helen Copeland 

NannieC. Barr 

Rachel Bulley 

Gwenllian Peirson 

Margaret C. Richey 

Gladys Nelson 

Ray Randall 

Emmeline Bradshaw 

Magdalene Barry 

Katherine Scheffel 

Mena Blumenfeld 

H. Mabel Sawyer 

Greta W. Keman 

Rita Pearson 

Dorothy Stabler 

Esther Galbraith 

JuUa Cooley 

Elizabeth Burrage 

Gertrude E. Ten Eyck Helen Lorenz 

Ramon de Francois 

Alice Moore 
Rebecca Faddis 
Benjamin Hitz 
Mabel Robinson 
Ray Murray 
Elizabeth Cocke 
Helen Louise Stevens 
Wilbur K. Bates 
Corinna Long 
Margaret Benedict 
Mary C. Nash 
Dorothy H. Ebersole 
Marie Armstrong 
Harold R. Norris 
Mary Patton 
Marjorie Patterson 
Susan Warren Wilbur 
Kathleen Burgess 
Freda M. Harrison 
Katharine Norton 
Mary C. Smith 
Katharina Goetz 
Gretchen Strong 
Evelyn Uhler 
Angeline Michel 
Mildred Eareckson 
Katharine Lcemmg 
Florence Hewlett 
Alice Tnmble 
Jean Dickerson 
Marion E. Bradley 
Sarah Yale Carey 
George Currie Evans 
Alice Perkins 
Dorothy Joyce 
Grace Leslie Johnston 
Robert J. Martin 
Medora Addison 

Willia Nelson 

Sarah Hall Gaither 
Melicent Eva Huma- 

Frances Renshaw 

William A. R. Rus- 

Gertrude Trumplette 
Katherine Palmer 
Anna Gardiner 
Robert Gillett 
Marie Jedermann 
Ida Busser 
Dorothy Kuhns 
Fay Memory 
Myrtle Willis Morse 
Gertruydt Beekman 
Priscilla Alden Clarke 
Marjory Fitch Mc- 

Elizabeth P. Defandorf Stanley W. 'McNeill 
Nell Kerr Martha H. Ordway 

Mary Williamson Katherine MacLaren 

Louise M. Hains Charles F. Fuller 

William Hazlett Upson Eleanor White 
Margaret Carpenter Louis Alexander 
Margaret Stone Sidney B. Bowne 

Edith J. Minaker Rita Wanninger 

Jeanette Dair Garside Charles Deane 
William Ariel Talcott Lillian May Chapman 

Eleanor P. \Vheeler 
Richard J. Levis 
Mary E. Pidgeon 
Marjorie Moore 
Anna Michener 
Doris M. Smith 
Theodore Wells 
Dorothy Kavanaugh 
Mercie Williamson 
Vieva Marie Fisher 
Nan Ball 

Mary Merrill Foster 
Volney Parker 
Aaron Coon 
Donald W. Campbell 
Paul S. Arnold 
Mary Washington Ball 
Vera M. Stevens 
Lucy S- Taylor 


Stephen Cochran 
Florence Gardiner 
Genevieve Parker 
Ruth Parshall Brown 
Phyllis Lyster 
Gurdon Williams 
H. B- Lachman 
Louise Converse 

Laura Janvrin 
E. Beatrice Marsh 
Dorothy Richardson 
Frances R. Newcomb 
Frances Hays 
Meade Bolton 
Helen G. Bower 
Charles Vallee 
Helen H. de Veer 
Elsa Kahn 
Leonie Nathan 
Gretchen Rupp 
Marion K. Cobb 
Elizabeth Chase Burt 
Louise Seymour 
Loretta O'Connell 
Marguerite M. Cree 
Albert Mark 
Marguerite W. Watson 
Mildred D. Yenawine 

Margaret Lantz Daniell Elizabeth Osborne 

Dorothy Hall 
Mary Graham Lacy 
Maijory Leadingham 
Rowland Fowler 
William Leetch 
Gretchen S. James 
Mary Hendrickson 
Lelia E. Tupper 
John Willis Love 
Louise Lincoln 
Florence Rosalind 

Carlos Young 

Ella E, Preston 
Ahce Josephine Goss 
Mildred Curran Smith 
Bessie T. Griffith 
H Albert Sohl 
Edw. Louis Kastler 
Melville C. Levey 
M. C. Kinney 
W. Whiiford 
Marjorie Gilbert Savin 
Eleanor Kmsey 
Helen M. Rowland 
Dorothy Sturgis 
Carolyn S. Fisher 
Margaret S. Gamble 
Nadinc Bowles 
Talbot F. Hamlin 
Louise Robbins 
Sara D. Burge 
Carolyn Sherman 

Else Buchenberger 

Gladys Hodson 

K. F. Andrews 

Katherine Olivia Leech 

William G. Maupin Dorothy Mulford Riggs Henry Olen 

Juliette Gates ...... 

Blanche Leeming 
Kale Cleaver Heffelfin- 

Marie Russell 
Will Herrick 
Ruby F. Grimwood 
Winifred M. Voeclker 
Elizabeth Hogan 
Ruth E. Hutchins 
Elizabeth Wilcox Par- 
Newton J. Schroeder 
Edna Baer 
Carl Pretzel 
Leon a Trubel 
Margaret E. Corwin 
Hal Meader 
Anton A. Sellner 
Gladys A. Lothrop 
Wilmer Hoffinan 
Margaret Ellen Payne 
Harriette Barney Burt 
Annette Brown 

Mar>' Graham Bonner 
Mary R. Adam 
Dorothy Felt 
Harriette Kyler Pease 

Ethel Messervy 
Jane Meldrin 
Helen Wilson 
Margaret McKeon 
Katherine Gibson 
Helen May Baker 
Cecil D. Murray 

Julia Wilder Kurtz 
Eleanor Isabel Townc 
Catharine Pratt 
Mary A. Baker 
Arthur Toth 
Winifred Hamilton 
Elizabeth L. Brown 

Carolyn C. Hutchings Elizabeth Flynn 
Robert Lindley Murray Twila Agnes McDowell Eleanor R. Chapin Dorothy Elizabeth 
"" ' " * ' " " Katherine Dulcebella 

John S. Trowbridge 
Stephanie Balderston 
Catharine Chapin 

Hester Trumbull 
Clarissa M. L. How- 
Marion Logan Kean 
Dorothy G. Thayer 
Alice Wadsvvorth 
Ted Miller 
Henr>' Ir\'ing Fitz 
J. Foster Flagg Price 

Lola Hall 
Bessie Miller 
Marguerite Kershner 
Doris Neel 
Caroline Sinkler 
Frederic Olsen 
Fulvia Varvaro 
Sally Nelson Catlett 
Florence Hanawalt 

Rosamond Ritchie 
Mary McLeran 
Rose T. Briggs 
Dorothy Ochtman 

Kenneth E. Hicks 
Dorothy Berry 
Grace F. Slack 
Dorothy Longslreth 
S Louise Hale 
Florence Forristall 
Marcia Hoyt 
Mildred Andrus 


Betty Lockett 

Margaret Joscnhans 

Sidney Edward Dick- 

Charlotte Bmtc 

Theodore Brill 

Chariotte Ball 

Mary Cooper 

Mary Clarke 

Helen C. Wallcnstein 

Alice Brabant 

Eunice Mc( iilvra 

Anita M.iffctt 

Jessie Hewitt 

J. Harr>- Drake 

Elizabeth S. Fishblate 

Kena Kellner 

Margaret Hazcn 

Eleanor Sanger 

Aline J. Dreyfus 

Madeleine Sweet 

Marjorie I-. McCurdy 

Martha M, Matthews 

Anne Furman Gold- 

Kathcrine Godwin 

Jack Planten 

rhonia.1 Sullivan 

Kate Fishel 

Mabel E. Roosevelt 

Phoebe U. Hunter 

Louise Gar>t 

Katharine T. Graves 

Icannette McAlpin 

Ruth Drake 

Gertrude Lcadingham 

Hermann Schussler 

Margaret King 

Mary Taussig 

John Rodney Marsh 



Eleanor Jackson 
Miv W. Ball 
Isobcl H. Blackader 
Lilli:in Hogan 
Ellen P. Laflin 
Hattic Prutstnan 
Ruth Homey 
Alice Tweedy 
Margaret Ramsay 
Eva Pattison 
Winifred Hatchings 
Lillian Mudge 
Olive Garrison 
Dwight £. Benedict 
Knccland (ireen 
Beatrice Carlcton 
Eleanor S. Wilson 
Margaret B. McElroy 
Bruce K. Steele 
Marguerite Schaefcr 
Doiothy Flynn 
Helen V. Tookcr 
Dorothy G. Stewart 
Charlotte B. Williams 
Lclia Y. Kemnitz 
Frances W. Varrcll 
Catherine Lctand 
Harry G. Martin 
Alice Appleton 
Raymond E. Cox 
Florence Clement 
Freda Kirchwey 
Rachel Wysc 
Alice W. Hinds 
Delphina L. Hammer 
Ellen Winters 
Margaret B. Richard- 
Dorothy p. Hutchins 
Margaret Sweet 
Use Knauth ' 

Jamie Douglas 
Ivan Lee Osborne 
Merman Goebel 
Charles D. Swayze 
Irene Loughborough 
M.iric Madeleine Utard 
Fr.inccs Hale Burt 
Hilda Metcalf 
Ethel C. Daggett 
Louise A. Mullins 
Charlotte St. George 

Gertrude B. West 
Franklin Spcir 
Anna K. Cook 
Willie K. Crocker 
Kenneth Connolly 
Ruth H. Matz 
Homer M. Smith 
Harry Haydcn 

Randolph Fletcher 

Lucia Warden 
Hattie Cheney 


Gerome Odgen 
Chester S. Wilson 
Carlota Glasgow 
Bonner Pennybacker 
Herbert Powers 
Shirley Willis 
Margaret Scott 
Betty Millet 
Dorothy Wormser 
Harold K Schoff 
Gordon Fletcher 
Elizabeth H. Webster 
Harry Lefebre 




Helen Kimball 
Mary Spnigue 
Alec Sisson 
Agnes C Cochran 
Mercedes Huntington 
. Elisabeth Heath Rice 
Julius Btcn 

Margaret B. Copeland 
Lin(^ Scarritt 


Anna Clark Buchanan 
Clinton H. Smith 
Frank G. Pratt 

Alice Clark 
Edwin Shoemaker 
Helen Pierce Metcalf 
Elizabeth Morrison 
Martha Gniening [Jr. 
Richard dc Charms, 
Ruth Helen Brierley 
Frances Goldy Budd 
M. N. Stiles 
Clara Wiiliaiiison 
Barbara Hinkley 
FIsie Wormser 
Harold Normand 

Sch render 
Edith M. Hobson 

1 Wa 



Freda Messervy 
Theodora Van Wag- 

Heyliger de Windt 
Bessie Hedge 
Adelaide GUlis " 
Lionel Jealous 
Francis Bassett 
Helen Banister 
Kendall Bushnell 
Gwendolen Scarritt 

G(»dfrcy Richards 

J. Paulding Brown 
Rutherford Piatt 
George F. Bliven 
Mary Sanger 

Mildred Martin 
Alice Knowlcs 
Anna M. Ncuburger 
E. Adelaide Hahn 
Emerson G. Sutcliffe 
Mary E. Dunbar 
Elizabeth T. Hamed 
Margaret R.Merriam 
Cornelia Landon 
Adeline Thomas 
Oscar C. I-autz 
Elizabeth Berry 
Douglas Todd 
Louise Rcyndcrs 
Elisabeth C. Hurd 
Margaret McKnight 
Elinor Dodswnrih 
Helen R. Howard 
Harvey Deschere 
Horace Piatt 
Seward C. Simons 


Hope Adgaie Conant 
Cassius M. Clay, Jr. 
Christine Graham 
Robert Raymond 
Claire L. Sidenberg 
Margery Brown 
Horace B. Forman 
Marjorie Shriver 
Henry H. Houston 


The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver 
badges each month for the best poems, stories, drawings, 
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle-answers. Also cash 
prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge winners who 
shall again win first place. 

Competition No. 57 will close June 20 (for foreign 
members June 25). The awards will be announced 
and prize contributions published in St. Nicholas for 

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. 
Title: to contain the word ** Good-by " or ** Farewell." 

Prose. Article or story of not 
more than four hundred words to re- 
late some incident connected with the 
** Louisiana Purchase." 

Photograph. Any size, interior 
or exterior, mounted or unmounted, 
no blue |)rinls or negatives. Sub- 
ject, " What we Left Behind." 

Drawing. India ink, very black 
writing-ink, or wash (not color), in- 
terior or exterior. Two subjects, 
•'Portrait from Life" and "A Head- 
ing or Tailpiece for September." 

Puzzle. Any sort, but must be 
accompanied by the answer in full. 

Puzzle-answers. Best, neatest, 
and most complete set of answers to 
puzzles in this issue of St. Nicho. 


Wild Animal or Bird Photo- 
graph. To encourage the pursuing 

of game with a camera instead of a gun. For the best 
photograph of a wild animal or bird taken /« its fia/u- 
ral home: First Prizey five dollars and League gold 
badge. Second Prize^ three dollars and League gold 
badge. Third Prize^ League gold badge. 


.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 on application. 

Every contribution, of whatever 
kind, must bear the name, age, and 
address of the sender, and be in- 
dorsed as *' original " by parent, 
teacher, or guardian, who must be 
convinced beyond doubt that the con- 
tribution is not copiedy but wholly 
the work and idea of the sender. If 
prose, the number of words should 
also be added. These things must 
not be on a separate sheet, but on 
the contribution itsc//—\{ a manu- 
script, on the upper margin ; if a pic- 
ture, OH the margin or back. Write 
or draw on one side 0/ the paper only. 
A contributor may send but one con- 
tribution a month — not one of each 
kind, but one only. Address : 


The St. Nicholas League, 

Union Square, New York. 


THE LITERATURE It will not require much 
OF PLACES. questioning to find out 
what books refer to the very part of the coun- 
try where you are going to spend your vaca- 
tion, and it adds greatly to the interest of your 
reading if you can at the same time identify the 
very places referred to in the book. If you 
know where you are going, be sure to find out 
whether there is not some book worth reading 
that relates to the town or region in which 
your summer is to be passed. Cooper's stories, 
and Irving's, to say nothing of more recent 
works, relate to many localities in New York 
State, where thousands of young people will 
spend the summer months, and you will best 
appreciate their descriptions if you are amid 
the very scenes described. If there is no fiction 
that tells about the places you will see, there is 
always an interesting local history. 

You may find yourself on some old battle- 
field, or taking a country walk along some road 
by which an army marched in Revolutionary 
days, or in the neighborhood of a historic build- 
ing, and in this way your reading will assume 
a vividness that will impress it upon your 
memory for all time. 

PICTURE AND The St. Nicholas League 

MAP DRAWING, has proved that thousands 
of our young readers can handle their pencils 
with skill. Do they ever try to make their 
reading more clear to their own minds by 
drawing illustrations or maps or plans of the 
scenes and incidents described? There is no 
better way of making one's ideas definite. In 
drawing the main outlines of a scene, you will 
find it becomes necessary to have it all clearly 
in mind, and no doubt you will need to refer 
to your book more than once before fi.xing ])re- 
cisely upon your composition. To take an old 
book, for example, it will be found most inter- 
esting to make a map or rough plan of Robin- 
son Crusoe's island, showing where he was 
wrecked, where he found his cave, the hill 
from which he saw the savages approaching in 
their canoe, where the rescue of Friday took 

place, and so on. In historical stories the task 
will be even more interesting and valuable, 
and in well-written books you will be repeating 
the work of the author in preparing himself to 
write the story. 

If this suggestion is carried out, we should 
be glad to examine the work of any of our 
young artists or map-makers, and perhaps show 
an interesting example of good work to other 
of the young readers of St. Nicholas. 

SUMMER Besides the real out- 

BOOKS. door books there are others 

suitable for the days when all nature is inviting 
the children to playtime. There are books of 
lightness in style and subject that may be 
taken up and put down again without serious 
interruption to your enjoyment of them. Such 
are best suited for your general summer read- 
ing, when you are likely to be called at any 
moment to make one in a foursome, or in tennis- 
doubles, to go for a walk with a lover of flow- 
ers, or to ramble along the brookside with the 
seeker of specimens for an aquarium. The 
time spent outdoors will never make you the 
worse reader of good books. 

All the greatest writers have loved nature, 
and you will appreciate them the more for know- 
ing more intimately the beauties of nature. 

He who spends all his time over books and 
none out of doors is but half a student. 

It has been wisely said 
that one sees only what the 
eyes are prepared to see ; which means, of 
course, that each of us notices most carefully 
the things he considers interesting. A trip 
across the ocean and through the storied lands 
of the Old World has a value depending entirely 
upon the person who takes it. One, who has 
by reading made ready to understand the 
associations called up by old cities, towns, 
castles, and monuments, will experience a series 
of golden days; another, not so prepared, will 
perhaps come home with no memories save 
those of the little discomforts of travel. 

In a way, one's whole life may be compared 




76 = 

to a journey through the world ; and whether 
that journey be happy or the reverse may in the 
same way depend greatly upon the preparation 
made for it in youth. From the best writers 
we learn to see the romance and poetry in 
every-day life ; and this, besides the direct plea- 
sure they give us, is one of the best reasons for 
choosing these volumes for our reading in youth. 
THE LOVER There is the greatest 

OF BOOKS. diflference in the way of 
handling books. You may almost tell whether 
a boy or girl is a true book-lover by seeing how 
they treat the books they read. There is a 
daintiness of handling, a respect for good books, 
shown by all who have learned what a volume 
may represent, and, on the contrary, a careless- 
ness and indifference that prove how little 
books mean to some others. There are excep- 
tions, however ; for no one would consider Dr. 
Johnson indifferent to good literature, and yet 
he is reported to have been a cruel user of 
books — utterly careless of a volume when he 
had once finished with it. 

It is hard to understand how one can be 
indifferent to the fate of a good book. There 
is always some one to whom it would be use- 
ful, even if you have done with it. ' A true 
book-lover it was who wrote these appreciative 
words : 

There is nothing like books. Of all things sold, in- 
comparably the cheapest; of all pleasures, the least 
palling ; they take up little room, keep quiet when they 
are not wanted, and, when taken up, bring us face to 
face with the choicest men who have ever lived, at their 
choicest moments. — Savuicl Palmer. 

Who will tell us something about the author 
of the quotation given above ? 

FOR YOUR are certain things 

VACATION. j.Qu y;\\\ not forget to take 
with you when you go to the country for a va- 
cation; but unless you are specially reminded 
of it, you may not remember that, besides your 
fishing-rod, your tennis-racket, your golf-sticks, 
and such aids to your summer studies, you 
should not fail to put in a few favorite volumes. 
Tliere should be few, [jossibly the fewer the bet- 
ter, if the little company be well chosen. But 

do not leave yourself entirely dependent upon 
the chance library of a country hotel. Who 
does not remember being indoors on some rainy 
day in the country, witii a longing for a really 
good book ? So, in addition to the lighter fiction 
already spoken of, it will be wise to take also 
one or two of the volumes that are inexhaust- 
ible treasures, and yet are well known to you, 
so that they may be taken up or put aside at 
will without especial care to find just where you 
last were reading. For this purpose a volume 
of a favorite poet can hardly be improved upon, 
whether you prefer Tennyson, Longfellow, 
Lowell, Aldrich, or the Quaker jjoet whose 
" Snow-Bouiid " should prove delightfully re- 
freshing on a warm da)'. 

If you have not already a favorite among 
the singers, choose a single-volume edition of 
any standard poet, and it will not be strange if 
you return from your summer's outing in pos- 
session of a new friend — a friend with whom 
you will hold many a quiet chat in winter 
evenings all your life long. 

BOOKS ABOUT There is mucH advice 
BOOKS. given about reading, and 

many good lists of books are made up and rec- 
ommended. And, so many are the classics 
awaiting young readers, these lists usually con- 
tain only the names of books, excluding the crit- 
ical and explanatory volumes, the " books about 
books." No doubt it is most important to 
read the standard authors, but it may fairly be 
said that many of these can hardly be under- 
stood except by reading what other writers have 
to tell us about them. It is not necessary to 
tire yourself by reading critici.sms and explana- 
tions, but it will be found to add greatly to 
your enjoyment of good literature if you follow 
your reading of a standard author by some 
study of what has been said about him and his 
work. Lowell, for instance, will be best ap- 
preciated when you have learned the main facts 
of his life, and you will see more in Tennyson's 
poems after you have read Henry van Dyke's 
study of his work. Whittier, too, and Oliver 
Wendell Holmes should be known to you as 
men besides being known as poets. 



Dear St. Nicholas : Not long ago my cousin from 
Boston came to visit me, and we went to see your office, 
believing that to be the most delightful thing we could 
do. I have taken you all my life, and on one occasion 
you proved a " saving grace " to me. 

The occasion was in school, where we had to put the 
noun cantos in a sentence. I really did not know what 
cantos meant, but I recalled an occurrence in " Davy and 
the Goblin " where it was mentioned. Happy tliought ! 
I adapted the meaning, and the result was correct. 

Other children made sentences such as, "The cantos are 
in the cellar," and " It is nicer to cantos than to gallop." 

I like New York very much. It seems to me like a 
great big box full of nice things, from which one has only 
to choose. One of my favorite things is the Metropolitan 
Art Museum. I have been there several times, but I 
always want to go again. 

Another of my favorites is the Natural History Mu- 
seum, to which I was first introduced by Mrs. Wright in 
" Four- Footed Americans." 

To Castle Garden Aquarium, another of my favorites, 
I was introduced by you. 

With best wishes for a happy and successful year, 
I remain, your devoted reader, 

Helen Copeland Coombs. 

Los Angeles, Cal. 

Dear St. Nicholas : A few days before Christmas, 
father said he would take us to Mexico for our vacation, 
and we were a delighted family. We went first to El 
Paso, and then across the Rio Grande to Juarez, where 
we had to stop and have our baggage inspected. 

The children of Mexico are very mteresting. We threw 
pennies, and it was funny to see them scramble for them. 
As we were in the City of Mexico Christmas week, we 
saw booths all along the Alameda, where the natives 
sold pottery, baskets, and other goods. 

The Museum, Art Gallery, Thieves' Market, National 
Pawnshop, and the churches were very interesting. We 
spent a few days at Cuernavaca, about seventy-five miles 
south of the City of Mexico. It is situated in the moun- 
tains, and the volcano of Popocatapetl can be seen not 
far away. Here are some pottery works, Maximilian's 
ranch, and Cortez's palace. 

You go to Maximilian's ranch with a guide, on don- 
keys or horses, along a very interesting road, passing 
Mexican adobe huts, seeing beautiful wild flowers and 
coffee berries drying in the sun. 

Very sincerely yours, 

Helen E. High. 

Williamsport, Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I want to write you a letter 
about an old dog of mine. He is fourteen years old, but 
is as spry as if he were two. He rolls over, and shakes 
hands, and jumps through my hands. You can see that 
he is getting old, but I love him just the same. I have 
been sick, and cannot use my right arm, so I dictate to 
my mother. 

I have had you for two years, and I like you very 
much. I hope to be able to write a story for the League 
sometime, as I belong to it. 
Yours truly, 

Katherine Scheffel (age ii). 

Aiken, S. C. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have just come back from 
going around the world, and am now going to tell you 
about the different little babies in Japan and other East- 
ern countries. In Japan they carry them on their backs. 
Very often you see little girls of seven and eight carrying 
their baby brother or sister, as it may be. They think 
nothing of it at all, and go on playing and running about, 
and the little babies just sit up there and don't mind it. 
They have nothing on their heads, and you often see 
them sleeping quietly on the person's back who is carry- 
ing them. In China they carry them the same way. In 
Ceylon they carry the babies and little children on their 
hips — funny little half-naked things. It is very curious 
to see all the people dressed in bright-colored silks and 
stuffs. The palms and trees are wonderful. In Egypt 
they carry the babies on their shoulders. You can only 
see the women's eyes when they are in the streets. 
Your interested reader, 

Sophie L. Mott (age lo). 

Paris, France. 
Dear St. Nicholas: We have taken you for four 
years, and are very much interested in you. We are 
three Americans, but we live in France. We have eight 
fox terriers and three cats. The dogs and cats are very 
good friends and play with each other. 

Ounce (the biggest dog) and a cat disappeared, and 
after a long search the dog was found in the loft lying 
down, with the cat between his fore legs. Once we had 
a monkey who used to ride on the dogs' backs. 
Your faithful readers, 
Walter, Harold, and Arthur Kingsland. 

Ballston Spa, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I take much pleasure in read- 
ing you. I wanted to write you, for I am interested in 
your riddles. We were guessing riddles one night, 
when my little six-year-old brother said, " I know one : 
A tail on its head, a body, and two feet." We could not 
guess, and he said, "A Chinese." We all thought that 
very good. 

Yours truly, 

Esther Beach (age 8j. 

Mauch Chunk, Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have been taking the St. 
Nicholas for the last three years and have enjoyed it 
very much. The first year I took it directly from the 
publishers, but to help a poor newsdealer I took from 
him, and expect to take it this year. I am very much 
delighted with the articles which we will expect in the 
following year. Yours truly. 

Marguerite Horn. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I'have now taken you for two 
years, and like you very much. I live just outside Paris 
now. My father brought a baby elephant back from 
India about two weeks ago. He is very amusing. We 
have a small veranda in front of our house, and once the 
elephant went up it, and we had a terrible time getting 
him down again. We have a big garden, and the ele- 
phant lives in a little stable in it. 

Yours sincerely, 

Leonard Ruckbill. 



Charades. I-bid. 

Double Diamond. From i to 2 and 3, Jackson ; i to 4 and 3, 
Johnson ; 3 to 5 and 6, Niebuhr ; 3 to 7 and 6, Neander. Cross- 
words : 1. Subject. 2. Chamois. 3. Acanth.-». 4. Keclman. 5. 
Useless. 6. Biology, 7. Rainbnw. 8. Chimera. 9. Beeswax. 
10. Bargain, it. Custody. 12. Athlete. 13. Scarlet. 

Double Beheadings. Decoration Day. i. Ma-dam. 2. Tr-eat. 
3. Ba-con. 4. Fl-oai. 5. Ac-rid. 6. Ch-air. 7. La-tin. 8. Tr-ice. 
9. Bl-own. 10. Si-new. 11. Se-dan. 12. Fl-ail. 13. Ba-you. 

Concealed Kitchen Utensils. 1. Teapot 2. Mug. 3. Ket- 
tle. ^. Griddle. 5. Pail. 6. Pitcher. 7. Pan. 8. Cup. 9. Bowl, 
la Dish-pan. 11. Tray. 12. Sieve. 13. Stove, 14. Strainer. 15. 
Fork. 16. Spider. 17. Ladle. 18. Plate. 19. Dish. 20. China- 
closet. 21. Dipper. 22. Pol. 23. Poker. 

Double Diagonal. From 1 to 2, Decoration; 3 to 4, In Me- 
moriam. Cross-words: i. Decimalism. 2. Demoniacal. 3. De- 

clension. 4. Decolorize. 5. Decorously. 6. Dcfomatory. 7. 
Dccerption. 8. Diminution. 9. Invocation. 10. Invitation. 

Triple Beheadings. Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch, i. 
Ham-mock. 2. Nar-ratc. 3. Non-sense. 4. Awk-ward. 5. Noi-ice. 
6. Dis-grace. 7. Mag-got. 8. Kai-sin. 9. Her-o. 10. Con- 
found. II. Gui-tar. 12. Ore-hid. 13. Rep-eat. 14. Con-cord. 
15. For-agc. 16. Sun-burn. 17. Bom-bay. 18. App-all. 19. 
Mar-gin. 20. Gen-eva. 21. Ram-part. 22. Car-away. 23. Pre- 
text. 24. Cox-comb. 25. Dis-honor. 

Central Syncopations, i. Re-ve-al, real. 2. No-ti-on, noon. 
3. Pa-Ia-ce, pace. 4. Fi-gu-rc, fire. 5- Dc-mo-ns, dens. 6. Re- 
fi-ef, reef. 7. Li-vc-ly, lily. 8. Lo-vi-ng, long. g. Mi-ng-le, mile. 
10. Pa-yi-ng, pang. 

Double Zigzag. From i to 13, Decoration Day; 14 to 24, Me- 
morial Day. Cross-words: i. Distant. 2. Meaning. 3. Becloud. 4. 
Ammonia. 5. Decorum. 6. Central. 7. ExhibiL 8. Certain. 9. Pad- 
lock. 10. Kidnaps. 11. Radiant 12. Yankees. 13. Younger. 

To OUR Puzzlers: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Ckntury Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the March Number were received, before March 15th, from "M. McG." — Joe Carlada — Grace 
Haren — Marjorie Webber — "Johnny Bear" — Edward Horr — Lucille Craig Dow — " Prcwand I " — Emily P. Burton — Corinne A. Pope 
— Ross M. Craig - *' Allil and Adi " — Agnes Cole — Annie C. Smith — Lillian Jackson — "Teddy and IVIuvver" — Mabel, George and 
Henri — Evaline Taylor — "Duluih" — E. Boyer — Virginia Custer Canan — Frederick Greenwood — Katharine, Jo B., and Angie — 
Elizabeth D. Lord — Jo and I — Christine Graham — "Cici" — "Chuck" — Paul Deschere — Elizabeth T. Harned — ^Iarian Pnestly 
Toulmin — Helen O- Harris — Nessie and Freddie — Bessie Sweet Gallup — Glga Lee — Myrtle Alderson — Tyler H. Bliss — Elizabeth 
Thurston — Louise K. Cowdrey — Marjorie Anderson — Agnes Rutherford — Marion Thomas — Walter Byrne — Grace L. Massonneau — 
Janet Willoughby — St Gabriel's Chapter — " The Masons" — Margaret D. Cummins — Jessie Pringle Palmer — Constance H. Irvine — 
Charlotte Waugh — May Richardson — Ruth Williamson, 

Answers to Puzzles in the March Number were received, before March 15th, from C. E. Grubb, i — D. Muller, i — D. L. Dun- 
bar, I — P. Johnson, i — Z. Merriam, i — E. Bennett, i — E. F. Butman, i — Sidney K. Eastwood, 9 — C. Hodges, Jr., 1 — M. Skelding, 
I — Lois Cooper, i — M., i — G. Wliittier, i — Aiteen Erb, i — Lorette Healy, i — Norah Robinson, i — George Herbert Vernon, 
8 — Harriet Bingamon, 8 — Calvert Sterquel, i ^ F. E. Dunkin, i — Ruth Si. Cary, i — W. G. Rice, Jr., 4 — Amy Eliot Mayo, 9 — 
Vernon W, Collamore, 1 — Martha G. Schrcyer, 9 — Florence F.lwcll, g — Dorothy Anderson, i — (Jrovene P. Converse, 3 — F. H. and 
C. C. Anthony, 9 — Eleanor F. Butman, i — Henry Leeich, i — Helen Loveland Patch, 9 — Cornelia N. Walker, 9 — Margaret C. Wilby, 
9 — Lawrence M. Mead, 8 — Kenneth Duncan McNeill, i. 


{Sliver Bad^e, St. Nicholas League Competition.) 

My^rs/s are in cherry, hut not in vine ; 
My seconds in oak, but not in pine ; 
My thirds are in arm, but not in hand ; 
My/(?urt/is are in sea, but not in land; 
^y fifths are in pebbles, but not in sand. 
My wholes are two useful animals. 

MAklK WARNER (age 9). 

TTT. Central Diamond: i. In north. 2. The 
fruit of certain trees and shrubs. 3, Report. 4. The 
highest point. 5. In north. 

IV. Lower Left-hand Diamond: i. In north. 
2. A small child. 3. A masculine name. 4. A mascu- 
line nickname. 5* I" north. 

V. Lower Right-hand Diamond: i. In north. 
2. A vessel used in cooking. 3. A bird. 4. A metal. 
5. In north. 



(Silver Badgfy St. NichoIa.<i League Competition.) 


I. Upper Left-hand Diamond: i 
A snare. 3. At no lime. 4. A number. 

II. Upper Right-hand Diamond: 
2. A large cavity. 3. A large stream. 
5. In north. 

All the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below 
another, the diagonal from the upper left-hand letter to 
the lower right-hand letter will spell tiie name of a 
poet; the diagonal from the lower left-hand letter to 
the upper right-hand letter will spell the title of one of 
his poems. 

Cross-words : l. Moving one way and the other. 
2. Calling anything to mind. 3. An old-time industry 
for women. 4. Associates in any business or occupation. 
In north. 2. 5. Score cards. 6. Disposed to associate only with one's 
5. In north, clique. 7. Certain kinds of puzzles that sometimes ap- 
I. In north, pear in the Riddle-box. 8. A military man serving on 
4. A beverage, horseback. 

BURT H. SMITH (League Member). 








¥5 I-IIM- 


L^^LJ'^Lf^ ^|)^™9>^-%^: 


ollow _., 
Him- wJk 

Here is an Arab saying. It begins with the little pic- 
ture at the right-hand upper corner, marked I. Tliat 
reads, " Man is four." How do the four following lines 
read ? 


{Gold Badge^ St. Nicholas League Competition.) 
I 2 

From I to Z, a large city in the United States ; from 
I to 3, a famous town in Palestine ; from 2 to 4, a great 
Mesopotamian river ; from 3 to 4, rays of light from the 
moon ; from 5 to 6, lucidity ; from 5 to 7, the name of a 
sea not far from the United States ; from 6 to 8, shrewd; 
from 7 to 8, a spring flower. 

Central Words (reading across only) : i. Un- 
clouded. 2. A seaport on the Gulf of Guinea. 3. To 
send. 4. To come forth. 5- Heavy timbers. 



(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition.) 

Example : Doubly behead and doubly curtail sweet- 
ened ; rearrange the remaining letters, and make a scrap. 
Answer, su-gar-ed, rag. 

1. Doubly behead and doubly curtail pertaining to 
festoons ; rearrange the remaining letters, and make a 
black powder formed by combustion. 

2. Doubly behead and doubly curtail that which re- 
peats; rearrange the remaining letters, and make a nar- 
row woven fabric used for strings. 

3. Doubly behead and doubly curtail a round build- 
ing ; rearrange the remaining letters, and make the fruit 
of certain trees and shrubs. 

4. Doubly behead and doubly curtail to chastise ; re- 
arrange the remaining letters, and make within. 

5. Doubly behead and doubly curtail round ; re- 
arrange the remaining letters, and make a ringlet. 

6. Doubly behead and doubly curtail ensiform ; re- 
arrange the remaining letters, and make to jump. 

7. Doubly behead and doubly curtail one who sings 
alone ; rearrange the remaining letters, and make to 

8. Doubly behead and doubly curtail to communi- 
cate polarity; rearrange the remaining letters, and make 
one who tells a falsehood. 

9. Doubly behead and doubly curtail a kind of candy ; 
rearrange the remaining letters, and make a limb. 

10. Doubly behead and doubly curtail treachery ; re- 
arrange the remaining letters, and make a large body of 

The initials of the ten little words will spell two 
familiar words. DORIS hackbusch. 



2 . . 12 . 

• 3 • >3 ■ • 
■ 4 14 

. 5 ■ ■ 15 ■ • 

6 .... 16 . 



9 . . 19 
. 10 20 

Cross-words : l. Gives assurance against harm. 2. 
Releases from slavery. 3. Sketched for a pattern or 
model. 4. Mechanical contrivances. 5- Foolish dis- 
tortions of the countenance. 6. Brings out from con- 
cealment. 7. Acharacter in "The Merchant of Venice." 
8. Foolishly. 9. The act of stopping. 10. The principal 
sail in a ship or other vessel. 

From I to 10, the name of a famous man; from 11 to 
20, the name of a famous saint. 

w. N. taft (League Member). 



j:i?a- :-r-^ '^^^r^Cs - - .;L^-a.«^- ..ii^--:iii^^^<^ ^~!^fff>*J ' S ^ i(:::l.:~ ^--k\t-.i>^^ 


St. Nicholas. 

JULY 1904 

Copyright, iyo4, by '1'he Ckmlkv Cu. All rigliLs rescn'cd. 






J er 

No. 8. 

aphtie iBaaced. 

Bv JerM\ie Belts Hartswick 

\l 1/ 


A\'hen Daphne danced the minuet 

The colonies were children yet, 

And tliis old world mcjre .slowly .swunc;, 

And dreams were long and love was young 

And maids and men more shyly glanced 

Each olherward when Dai)hne danced. 

When Daplinc danced, her eyes of brown 
Were always cast demurely down ; 
No romping ste[) or giddy whirl 
AVas seen when Dajihne was a girl. 
Such follies were not countenanced 
By proper folk when Daphne danced. 

When Daphne danced, they say, her gown 
^\'as quite the marvel of the town ; 
'T was brought, to clothe her daintily, 
O'er many leagues of land and sea; 
Its flowered folds her charms enhanced 
When, like a flower, Daphne danced. 






HEN Daphne danced with bow and dip 
A whisper fled from Hp to lip, 
.\nd far and near each patriot son 
Thrilled at the name of Washington, 
IJ And steadily the cloud advanced, 

With portent grave, while Daphne danced. 

As Daphne danced one afternoon, 
While chimed the spinet's tinkling tune, 
Before her mirror practising 
Her quaint old-mannered curtsying — 
One to her doorway came, it chanced. 
With hurried step, while Daphne danced. 

And lo! the word from England brought 
Was for the nroment all forgot, 
And he who came the news to bear 
Saw only Daphne dancing there — 
King George's envoy stood entranced, 
With quickened breath, while Daphne 

■90< 1 

wnrx nAriiNK panced. 

ilKN Boston rose to warlike roar, 
And pretty Daphne danced no more; 
Hut he who brought from oversea 
The king's imperious decree 
Kept in his heart the vision fair 
Of dainty Dapline dancing tliere. 

And when the land had found release, 
And Boston town grew still with peace, 
One afternoon at Daphne's door 
King George's envoy stood once more, 
Although no word he came to bring 
Of colony or sword or king. 

Below him, in the sj)arkling bay, 
His waiting ship at anchor lay, 
And as he lifted to his lips 
Her shyly offered finger-tips, 
Down where the waters gleamed and 

The vessel like a maiden danced. 

" I sail to-morrow morn," (juoth he, 
" At summons of his Majesty. 
But ere I heed my king's commands 
I ask this favor at your hands. 
That you, of your sweet courtesy. 
Will tread a minuet with me." 





'as, homeward bound, king GEORGES SHIP SPED EVER ON WITH BOW" AND DIP. 

. 1 






m wM 





HEN Daphne blushed as damsel should, 
And answered; "Gladly, sir, I would; 
But none is here the air to play, 
For Mistress Prudence is away. 
And 't will be after candle-light 
When she returns — to-morrow nitrht." 

As, homeward bomid. King George's ship 
Sped ever on with bow and dip. 
The streets were still in Boston town, 
And Daphne in her flowered gown, 
Where fell the candles' mellow glow, 
Unto her partner curtsied low. 




/ /:> 


\D never recked his Majesty 
The " urgent matter oversea " 
\\'as but a little Boston maid, 
Or that his subject had delayed 
To step with stately etiquette 
The measure of a minuet. 

And so — what need the rest to tell ? 
He loved her long and loved her well, 
And Daphne by and by became 
A spectacled and wrinkled dame, 
Bequeathing all her olden grace 
Unto the dauijhters of lier race. 

Somewhere in lavender is laid 

.\ faded frock of old brocade ; 

.•\nd, locked away from careless hands, 

Somewhere a silent spinet stands. 

The age has very much advanced 

Since those dim days when Daphne danced. 

MfWi^.- . ''";^i?« V^^- 

V 1 : ij* ^ ^. 7- 









St. Nicholas counts itself fortunate in being able to present to its young readers an 
admirable serial story from the Japanese, wrillen by one of Japan's most popular novelists 
and filled with the spirit of that great Oriental nation. The author of this story, Geosai Murai, 
was once a student of the Waseda School, founded by Count Okuma, leader of the Progressive 
I'arty in Japan. There he studied English Literature as well as Japanese, and after complet- 
ing his course of study he was employed by one of the well-known Tokio daily papers, called 
the " Hochi," to write stories for it. His writings soon arrested the attention of the reading 
circles in Japan. Several of his novels went through as many as ten editions within two years. 

This story of Kibun Daizin is founded upon the life of Bunzayemon Kinokuniya, a Japanese 
merchant of the eighteenth century, whose pluck, wisdom, and enlerprising spirit made him 
one of the most prosperous and respected men of his time. He is much admired by his country- 
men, and is talked of familiarly, even to this day, by the Japanese, under the nickname of " Kibun 
Maizin." "Ki" and "Bun" stand for tlie initials of his personal and family names, while 
" n.aizin " means " the wealthiest man." 

The shrewdness and dauntless ambition of the young hero of this story will commend him 
to the .admiration of American boys, and in Kibun Daizin, as here pictured, they will find a true 
representative of the wonderful nation which, within thirty years, has entirely changed the modes 
of life that it had followed for more than twenty centuries, and has suddenly fallen into line with 
the most civilized countries of the world. 

The story has been translated especially for St. Nicholas, and many quaint terms and ex- 
pressions have been purposely retained, although the pronunciation and meaning of the Japanese 
words are given wherever necessary. — Editor. 

Chapter I. 


"If you please, sir, — " 

And, attracted by a voice behind him, a well- 
dressed gentleman turned round and saw a boy 
of about thirteen or fourteen hurrying toward 
him, — "if you please, sir, are you the head of 
the Daikokuya*?" 

" Yes, I am," answered the gentleman, eying 
the boy with surprise. "What can I do for you?" 

"I come from Kada-no-Ura," said the boy, 
making a polite bow, " and I wish to ask you a 
great favor. Will you please take me into your 
shop as an apprentice ? " 

" Your request is rather a strange one," said 
the gentleman, smiling. " Pray tell me why it 
is that you wish to come to me." 

The boy raised his head. " Oh, sir, yours is 

the chief business house in Kumano, and I 
would be so glad if I might learn under you." 

" You wish to become a business man, do 
you ? " said the gendeman, with a friendly nod ; 
upon which the boy drew himself up and ex- 
claimed, " Yes ; 1 mean, if I can, to become 
the leading merchant in Japan ! " 

The master of the Daikokuya instinctively 
studied the boy's face. There was a certain 
nobleness and intelligence about it ; he had 
well-cut features, a firmness about the lips, and 
(|uick-glancing eyes, and, although his clotliing 
showed poverty, his bearing was quiet and his 
speech refined. These things confirmed the 
gentleman in the opinion that the boy was not 
the son of any common man ; and having, as 
the employer of many hands, a quick eye to 
read character, he said : 

" Very good, my boy ! So you mean to become 

' Pronounced Dy-ko-koo'ya, meaning " dry-goods house." 

Vol. XXXI.— 98. 




the leading merchant in Japan ? A fine notion, 
to be sure. However, before I engage a boy, 
you know, I must have somebody to recom- 
mend him, and he must give me references. 
Have you any relatives in this place? " 

" No, sir; I know no one," an- 
swered the boy. 

" Why, where have you been 
until now ? " 

" I have only just come from 
my country. The fact is, I heard 
your name, sir, some time ago, '^ 

and being very anxious to enter 
your service, I left my country 
all bymyselfto cometo Kumano. 
But I have not a single acquain- 
tance here, nor anybody to whom 
I can turn. My only object was 
to come straight to you ; and 1 
was asking a man on the road 
if he could direct me to your 
house, when the man pointed to 
you and said, ' Why, that gentle- 
man just ahead of us is the master 
of the Daikokuya.' And that is 
how it comes that I ran up to you 
all of a sudden in this rude way." 

There was a charm in the free 
utterance with which the bo_\ 
told his story, and having hs- 
tened to it, the gendeman said : 
" I understand. It is all right. As 
you have no friends here, I will do 
without a recommendation, and 
you shall come just as you are " ; 
and saying this, he brought the 
lad back with him to his house. 

The Daikokuya, you must 
know, was the chief clothing 
establishment, or " dry-goods 
house," in Kumano, and did a 
larger business than any other in the town. On 
arriving there, the master took the boy with him 
into an inner room, and, telling his wife what 
had taken place, called the boy to his side. 
" Tell me, my boy, what is your name ? " 

" My name is Bunkichi." * 

" Are your parents living ? " 

At this que.stion the boy hung his head sor- 

rowfully. " I have neither father nor mother," 
he answered, with a choking voice and eyes 
filled with tears. 

Filled with pity, the others asked him how 
long he had been left alone in the world. 


"I lost my mother," he said, " more than three 
years ago, and my father only quite recently." 

" And what was your family ? Were you 
farmers or tradesmen ? " 

'■ Neither one nor the other. My father for- 
merly served under the Lord of Wakayama, and 
received an allowance of eight hundred koku\ 
of rice. His name was Igarashi Bunzayemon ; |: 

* Pronounced Boon-kee'chee. t One koku equals about five bushels. } Pronounced Ee-gar-ash'ee Boon-zy'e-nion. 




but, losing his position, he came to Kada-no-Ura, At tiiis the child looked round, and for the first 
where we had to live in a very poor way. My time becoming aware of the boy's presence, 
father, however, would never allow me to for- turned shy and sat down. Looking gently in her 
get that the ancestor of our house was Igarashi face, her mother then asked her what she had 
Kobunji,* who served in old days at Kamakura, been doing. Afraid of the stranger, she whis- 
and gained a name for himself as a brave pered in her mother's ear : " I have been play- 
warrior. 'And when you become a man,' my ing w//t with Sadakichi in the garden. But 1 
father used to say, 'you must win your way to don't like Sadakichi. When he was the oni 
fame, and so uphold the honor of the family; he just caught me at once." 
but, unlike the past, our lot to-day is cast in " But that often happens in playing oni," said 
peaceful times, when there is little chance of the mother, with a smile. 

winning distinction in arms; but become, if " Yes, but he does it too much; he has no 

you can, the leading merchant in Japan, and right to catch people in the way he does, and 

you will bring honor to our house.' Such was I don't wish to play with him any more." 

my father's counsel to me, and not long since 
he was taken with a severe illness and died. 
And now, if you please, I wish to learn the ways 
of business, that I may become a merchant, 
and I have journeyed to Kumano to throw my- 
self on your kindness." 

" Well, if that is so, how would you like to 
play with Bunkichi here instead ? " 

Acceptingit as one of the duties that might fall 
to him, to act as the child's companion and care- 
taker, Bunkichi, rather pleased than otherwise, 
offered to go out and try to amuse her. The 

The gentleman listened to the boy's clear ac- little girl looked into her mother's face, and then 

count of himself and expressed his admiration. 
" Ah ! I was right, I see, when I thought you 
were not the son of an ordinary man. Your 
ambition to become the chief merchant in 
Japan is a high one, certainly ; but the proverb 
says ' Ants aspire to the skies,' and anything 
is possible to a man who puts his whole heart 
into his work. You are still quite young, I 
should say, though you have come all the 

at Bunkichi. " Mama, how long has he been 
here ? " she asked in a low voice. 

" He only came to-day, but he 's a fine boy, 
and I hope you '11 be a good little girl and show 
him the garden." 

But the child's thoughts seemed suddenly to 
take a new turn, and sidling up to her mother, 
she begged to be given a cake. The mother 
opened the little drawer of the hibachi,% and 

way from Kada-no-Ura by yourself, and though taking out two or three sugar-plums, put them 
you talk of your affairs in a manner that would into her hand. The child then, with barely 
reflect credit on a grown-up man. Come, tell a glance at Bunkichi, ran through the shoji out 

me, how old are you ? " 

" I am fourteen," he answered. 

" What, not more than that ? " 

And the master's wife, who was by his side, 
could not repress her surprise, either. 

.At this ])oint the shoji, or paper sliding doors, 
opened, and in ran a pretty little girl of about 

of doors. 

" Take care and don't stumble," her mother 
called out. " Uo you mind just seeing after 
her ? " she said to Bunkichi, who at once got 
up and went out on the veranda. 

No sooner was Chocho Wage, § or " Butterfly 
Curls " (so named from the way in which her 

eleven. Her hair was drawn up into a little hair was dressed), outside in the garden than 
butterfly device on the top of her head, which she began quarreling with the boy from the 

shook to and fro as she ran up to her mother. 

Stretching out a small maple-leaf hand, with a 

winsome look, she said : 

" Mother, please give me a cake." 

"Why, my dear, where are your manners? 

What will our young friend here think of you ? " 

shop. " No, Sadakichi ; I 'm not going to 
play with you. Mama says that the other boy 
who has just come is a fine boy, and I 'm going 
to play with him." 

" What ! another boy has come, has he ? " 
" Yes; there he is. Go and fetch him." 

* Pronounced Ee-gar-ash'ee Ko-boon'jee. + A play similar to tag or prisoner's base. X Pronounced he-bah'- 
chee. A wooden fire-box where a charcoal fire is kept for warming the hands. \ Pronounced Cho'cho Wah'gay. 




Sadakichi called to Bunkichi, " You will find 
some geta * there, if you will come out." 

So Bunkichi came out to the garden. 

It was not a very large one, but it was a pretty 
spot, for beyond it sparkled the bay that lay at 
the back of Kumano. Bunkichi had soon joined 
the two others, and Sadakichi, turning to the lit- 
tle child, said, "Well, shall we three play dXoni?" 

" No," she answered; "you are always catch- 
ing me, and I don't care to play." 

" I won't catch you, then, Chocho, if you 
don't like it." 

"All the same, I 'd rather not." 

A thought struck Bunkichi, and, addressing 
himself to the child, he said : " Would you like 
me to make you something ? I would if I only 
had a knife and some bamboo." 

The child was at once interested, and told 
Sadakichi to go and get what was wanted. So 
Sadakichi strolled off and brought a knife and 
some bamboo chips. " Now, then, what are 
you going to make ? " said he. 

" A nice bamboo dragon-fly," Bunkichi an- 
swered ; and taking the knife he split a bit of the 
bamboo, shaved it fine and smooth, and fi.xed a 
little peg in the middle of it. 

Sadakichi, quickly guessing what it was, said : 
" Ah, it 's a dragon-fly. I know ! I once went 
with the banto^ to Kada-no-Ura, and every one 
there was flying those dragon-flies, and now I 
think of it, the boy who was selling them looked 
just like you." 

Not a bit disconcerted, Bunkichi replied : 
" Yes, you are quite right. I was the boy who 
made them and was selling them." 

" Bah ! Mr. Dragon-fly-seller ! " blustered out 
Sadakichi, with a face of disgust. 

" Don't speak like that," said the little girl, 
turning sharply upon him, and then to Bunkichi. 
" What made you sell them ? " she asked, 
speaking out to him for the first time. 

" My father was ill in bed," he answered, con- 
tinuing to scrape the bamboo, " and as our 
family was poor, I managed to buy him rice 
and medicine by selling these dragon-flies." 

Child as she was, this touching story of filial 
piety made her respect Bunkichi all the more. 

" Oh, was n't that good of him ! " she said, 
* Pronounced gay'tah. Foot-wear or wooden clo 

meanins: a 

turning to Sadakichi. " Do you think you could 
have done it ? " 

"I — yes; only there would have been no 
need for me to sell dragon-flies. I should have 
sold the wearing-things in our shop," he an- 
swered arrogantly. 

Bunkichi had now finished making the drag- 
on-fly, and, holding it between his hands, he 
spun it round, and up it went into the air with 
a whirring sound, and lighted on the ground 
again some five or six paces away. 

" Why, it 's just like a real dragon-fly ! " cried 
the child, with delight. " Do let me have it! " 
And taking it in her hands, she tried to set it fly- 
ing, but she could only make it go up a little way. 

Then Sadakichi, wishing to try his hand, 
pushed forward. " Let me have it," he said, 
" and I '11 show you how well 1 can do it " ; and 
seizing hold of it, with the force of both hands he 
set it flying high into the air. " There, now — see 
how it goes ! " and while the little girl was watch- 
ing it with delight, the dragon-fly flew over the 
wall fence and dropped into the water beyond. 

The little child ran after it, followed by Sada- 
kichi and Bunkichi. There was a little gate 
in the garden opening on a jetty. Through 
this they passed and stood together on the 
plank, watching the dragon-fly tossing about on 
the water. 

" Oh, I wish we could get it," said the little 
girl, looking at it wistfully ; " if it would only 
come just in front of us! " 

" Take care," said Sadakichi, holding her 
back, while the dragon-fly, bobbing up and 
down among the ripples, gradually drifted far- 
ther off. 

Now Bunkichi, seeing there was a small boat 
lying alongside the jetty, had said to Sadakichi, 
" Let me row out and get it," and was drawing 
the boat toward him, when he was abruptly 
stopped by Sadakichi. " No, no ; you must n't 
think of putting out from the shore. If you do, 
you are certain to be eaten up by the waiii- 
zame." | 

" Yes, it 's quite true," chimed in the little girl. 
" There 's a horrid wanizame that prevents any 
one going on the sea. Only yesterday it cap- 
tured somebody." 
gs. t Clerk. X Pronounced wah-ne-zah'may, 
huge shark. 



" Yes — a young man from the brewery," said 
Sadakichi. " He had some barrels in his boat, 
and he had gone only two or three hundred 




yards when the shark came up and overturned 
his boat and seized him." 

"It does n't matter about the dragon-fly; 
I don't want it ; let us go back to the house." 
And the little child, frightened in good earnest, 
took hold of Bunkichi's arm. 

It was the first time Bunkichi had heard 
about the wanizame. " Is it really true, miss, 
that there is a wanizame in the bay ? " he 

" Yes ; I can tell you it 's very serious. I 
don't know how many people it has eaten in the 
last month." 

" Really ! But how big is it ? " 

" I don't know what you would call big," 

broke in Sadakichi. " But it 's about as big as 

this house. If it sees a small boat, it overtakes 

it in no tirae and topples it over, and if it is a big 
boat it gets in the way 
and stops it so that it 
can't move, and so the 
fishermen can't go out, 
and no cargo can come 
into the port. I sup- 
pose it must be want of 
food that has brought 
it into this harbor ; but, 
however that may be, it 
thinks nothing of up- 
setting the small craft, 
so that for a month no 
one has ventured out at 
all. Well, there was the 
brewer's man. Yester- 
day he thought it would 
be safe to go just a 
short distance, but he 
very soon got swal- 
lowed up. And what 
is the consequence ? 
Why, the fishing is 
stopped, and there 's 
no trade, and the place 
is going to ruin. The 
fishermen and hunters 
have tried over and 
I. over again to kill it with 
spikes and guns and 
with all kinds of things. 
But what is the use ? 
snap in two or glance 

off its back, and they only get killed them.selvcs. 

So they have given up trying." 

Bunkichi listened to every word, and then 

suddenly went into the house and stood before 

the master. 

Chapter II. 


The master and his wife were engaged in 
conversation, but on seeing Bunkichi he said, 
" Well, have you seen the garden ? " 

" Thank you, I have enjoyed it very much," 
answered Bunkichi, politely. 

" Why, bless me, he has all the manners of 

Their weapons only 




a little samurai* .'" exclaimed the master to his 
wife. " There is no comparison between him 
and the other boys. But dancing attendance 
on a little girl is not the sort of employment 
for a lad who has the ambition to become the 
leading merchant in Japan. No, no; he wants 
to get into the shop as soon as he can and learn 
the ways of business — eh, my boy ? " 

The master exacdy interpreted Bunkichi's 
wishes, and Bunkichi felt very grateful to him, 
but he only answered : " I shall esteem it a great 
favor to be allowed to serve you»in any way. 
But, master, with your leave, I would ask you, 
is it true, as I hear, that there is a wanizame 
lately come into this bay, and that people are 
suffering a lot of harm from it ? " 

" Ah, me ! Yes, it 's a sore trouble, that wani- 
zame; our fishermen are doing nothing, our boat 
traffic is stopped, and if things go on in this way 
the place will be ruined. All sorts of attempts 
have been made to kill it, but, alas ! all to no 

Then respectfully, in a kneeling posture, ap- 
proaching nearer, Bunkichi thus addressed his 
master: " Master, in making the request I am 
now going to make, I fear you will put me 
down as a child with a vain, childish notion 
of doing great things ; none the less, I am 
bold to ask you, in all seriousness, will you 
give me leave to attempt the destruction of 
this ts.ianizame ? " 

The master exclaimed in astonishment : 
"" What ! You think that you are going to kill 
the 7C'a/iizamt' ? It would be the greatest thing 
in the world if you could, but already every 
means has been tried. Whaling-men have tried 
to kill it with their harpoons, the hunters of wild 
game on the mountains have tried to shoot it 
with their guns; but the wanizame has defeated 
all their schemes, and, to say nothing of the 
money it has cost, several men have lost their 
lives in their attempts to kill it, and our citizens 
have given it up as hopeless. Son of a samurai 

catch sight of our monster. The very sight of 
it is enough to terrify most people." 

" You mistake me, master," said Bunkichi, sit- 
ting up straight. " I have no thought of trying 
my strength against the wanizame. But I have 
a trick in my mind I should like to play, if you 
would allow me." 

" Oh, it 's a trick, is it ? And what is the trick 
our crafty youngster is going to propose for kill- 
ing the wanizame, I should like to know ? " said 
the master, 'smiling. 

" The plan I have is simply this. First to 
make a straw figure and to fill up the inside 
with poison. Then I shall dress it in a man's 
clothes and take it out into the bay, and, when 
we see the shark coming, throw it out to him to 
eat. Sharks are senseless creatures and ready 
to eat anything, so he is sure to swallow the 
straw man, and if he does the poison will at 
once take effect and kill him. That 's my plan ; 
what do you think of it ? " 

" Yes ; I think your plan of making a straw 
man is not at all a bad one, and I have little 
doubt, as you say, that the shark would swallow 
it. In that case it would certainly die and we 
should be free at last from our great calamity. 
But wait a minute ; I am afraid, when the doll is 
made, there is nobody who will venture to take 
it out to the sea. People have had so many bit- 
ter lessons from trying to kill this shark that, 
however much money you offer, no one, I fear, 
will agree to take it out into the bay." 

Bunkichi without any hesitation replied : " I 
will undertake the task of taking the doll out 
for the shark to swallow. As I grew up by the 
seaside at Kada-no-Ura, I can row a boat well 
and can swim better than most people. I saw a 
boat just now fastened at the jetty in your gar- 
den. Please lend it to me and I will go out 
alone upon the bay." 

Astonished by the audaciousness of the lad, 
the master said : " It is too wild an idea, my 
boy. What if the shark upsets your boat. He 

though you may be, this is no task for a boy of will swallow you up in an instant." 
thirteen or fourteen. No ; you may have seen " As to what you say about drowning, that 
in the seas around Kada-no-Ura sharks of four does n't disturb me at all. Suppose I have no 
or five feet in length, but just go out to the hill luck and lose my life, there is nothing to be re- 
above the town and look over the bay until you gretted if by my death I succeed in removmg the 

• Pronounced sahm'oo-rye. The samurai were the military class of Japan, corresponding to the 
knights of the middle ages in European countries. 




great calamity under which many are now suf- 
fenng. And, as I said before, it is my determina- 
tion to become the leading merchant of Japan ; 
but if I am to realize my ambition I must be 
prepared to run many risks. If fortune favors 
me I shall come safe through them and attain 
my object ; if, however, this first venture goes 
against me, and I go out to sea and fall a prey 
to the wanizame, it simply means that I must 
accept it as the decree of fate, and as far as my 
life is concerned, I am quite ready to risk it." 

The master, who was much struck by his fear- 
less determination, worthy of the boy's descent, 
said to him, " Indeed, your magnanimity is 
greater than ours, but for that very reason we 
should be all the more sorry to lose you." 

Saying this, he turned round to his wife, who 
whispered in his ear : " I quite agree with you : 
if he be swallowed up by the shark, we could n't 
possibly get another like him ; send some other 
one instead ! " 

Just then in came the girl, attended by Sada- 
kichi, who had long been waiting for the boy, 
and said," Bunkichi, please be quick and make 
me another dragon-fly." 

Her mother, however, at once stopped the 
girl, saying: "Come, come; Bunkichi has 
something else to think about besides dragon- 
flies : he 's just saying that he wants to go out 
to sea and kill the ivanizame." 

The girl was startled, for she was only a child. 
" Does he go alone ? " 

" Yes, that is what he says he will do." 

"Don't, please, mother; I don't like your 
sending him to sea." 

" Why, my child ? " 

"I want him to make me a bamboo dragon-fly." 

His curiosity aroused at hearing the little 
girl speak of the dragon-fly, the father said, 
" What do you wish him to make for you ? " 

"Oh, father, it 's a bamboo dragon-fly — an 
amusing toy which flies up high, whizzing," was 
her confident answer. 

" .A.h, I see," he remarked, as he understood 
the girl's request ; " that flying bamboo thing 
I often see when I go out on the streets. The 
toy, I remember, was first made by a boy of great 
filial virtue in a certain country district, and even 
here they talk about him; it is clever of you, 
Bunkichi, to have learned how to make them." 

Then Sadakichi interrupted, saying: " No 
wonder ! Why, he was the hawker of the toy ; 
I know all about it, as I saw him selling it at 

" .\re you, then, the inventor of the toy ? " 
asked the master, to whom the boy at once 
replied in the affirmative. The master, who 
was more than ever struck by the boy's charac- 
ter, said, " Are you, then, the same boy whom all 
the people talk about and praise for his devotion 
to his parent ? " 

Then the girl, who remembered what had 
been told her a little wiiile before, said : " Fa- 
ther, his family was very poor, and as his father 
was laid up on his sick-bed, he sold those 
dragon-flies and bought medicine or a little 
rice for the family. He told me so." 

As she was listening to this conversation, 
tears stood in the mother's eyes, and she said : 
" He is really a model boy, is he not ? I can't 
possibly let him go to sea." 

The master, who was much of the same way 
of thinking as his wife, answered, " Of course I 
have been persuading him to give up his idea " ; 
and, turning to Bunkichi, said, " Yes, do give it 
up, my boy." 

And the girl, seemingly witli liie intention of 
inspiring the boy with dread and deterring him 
from his purpose, remarked solemnly, " Oh, it is 
dreadful to be swallowed by the shark on going 
to sea ! " 

Bunkichi, having once determined, was im- 
movable. " Sir, trading to a merchant is the 
same that fighting is to a knight. It has been 
ever regarded honorable in a knight that he 
should hazard his life many a time, even in his 
early youth. If fate be against him, he will be 
put to death by his enemy. The knights of old 
faced the dangerous issues of life or death as 
often as they went out to battle. As they at- 
tained to renown by i)assing through these 
ordeals, so, too, must the merchant who aspires 
after a leading position not shrink from braving 
many dangers in his life. Sir, methinks the 
present is the opportunity given me to try my 
hand ; and if fate sides with me and I succeed 
in killing the wanizame, in future I shall have 
courage to venture out on other great under- 
takings. If one begins to be nervous at the 
outset, one will go on being nervous forever; 



but there is no fear, I think, for a man who is 
ready to sacrifice even his own life." 

The master, meeting with such unflinching de- 
termination, knew not how to stop him, but said, 
" I must confess you have more in you than I 
thought. I am ashamed of myself to be thus 
taught by you the secret of success in trade when 
I should be in a position to teach you. Well 
said, my boy ; trading is to a business man what 
fighting is to a knight. If you begin by being 
weak and timid, you will never be capable of 
bold enterprise. If you have a mind to di- 
vine your future by embarking on this exploit, go 
in for it with all your might. As to the prepa- 
rations for making the straw man, as far as 
buying the poison is concerned, I will do it all 
for you. You had better go up to the mountain 
yonder, and ascertain the place where the shark 
is generally to be seen coming up to the surface. 
You, Sadakichi, had better take him up to the 
Sumiyoshi * bluff, and point him out the mon- 
ster if it should come up and show itself on the 
surface of the water in the mouth of the harbor." 

Bunkichi, who was much delighted at having 
gained his wish, said : " Then, sir, please let an 
apothecary prepare a lot of drugs which are 
lik'^y to be the best poison for a wanizame, and 
I will go and have a lookout for the appearance 
of the monster." 

As he was about to start, the girl asked him, 
in a litde voice of remonstrance, " But when will 
you make a dragon-fly for me, Bunkichi ? " 

" When I come back, miss," was his reply. 

" Come, come, he can't be bothered about 
such a. trifle now," said her mother. 

Meanwhile the two lads, Bunkichi and 
Sadakichi, hand in hand, went up to the Sumi- 
yoshi bluff, which stood just outside the town 
on the eastern side of Kumano Bay. The moun- 
tain rose precipitously from the sea, whose 
fathomless water washed its southern base. A 
thick forest of pines covered the mountain, and 
the vibrating of their needle foliage in the 
breeze added a strange harp-like accompani- 
ment to the perpetual roaring of the waves be- 
low. On reaching the summit, Bunkichi threw 
himself down on a knotty root of pine near the 
edge of a precipice and gazed out on the broad 

* Pronounced Soo-mee-yo'shee. 

expanse of the Kumano Bay. As far as his 
view reached no shore could be descried, only 
the line where the dome of the azure sky circled 
the deep blue of the ocean. 

After sitting thus in silent contemplation for a 
few minutes, Bunkichi suddenly turned round 
and said to Sadakichi : " Sea scenery is always 
fine to look at, is n't it ? I am fond of this sort 
of rough sea. I should like to have a swim in it." 

" Don't talk such nonsense ; you would no 
sooner get into it than you would be swamped," 
was the reply. 

" That 's just what I like. I should dive deep 
down into the water and get out of the whirl- 
pool. And now, tell me where it is the wani- 
zame generally pops out its head." 

" It generally comes out just below this head- 
land," the other answered, " at the mouth of 
the harbor." 

As the two boys were steadily gazing on 
the surface of the water, sure enough, up came 
the shark, and startled Sadakichi by cleaving 
the water with its back. Whether it was in frolic 
or in quest of prey, the monster swam to and 
fro, now showing its head and now its tail. Its 
rock-like back and its iron-like fins were horrible 
enough to inspire even men with awe. 

Sadakichi, feeling nervous at the sight, said 
to his companion, " Bunkichi San, now you see 
the monster, you will be for giving up your 
grand job, I fancy." 

" What ! You don't suppose I 'm frightened, 
do you," was his scornful retort, " at the sight 
of such a Httle fish?" 

" What do you say ? " said the other. 

" Well, if the chance came in my way, I might 
even kill a leviathan or a crocodile ! " 

As these two were thus talking, a gust of wind 
from the high Nachi Mountain swept down 
on the forest of Sumiyoshi and awakened the 
myriad tiny harps of the pines, while the waves 
rolled one after another against the rocks be- 
low. These sounds contrived to drown the 
voice of the lads, one of whom seemed to be 
persuading the other that it was time to go 
back, while the other seemed to be insisting on 
staying a Httle longer to enjoy the wild scenery 
and to think over the issues of his scheme. 

{To be continued.) 


Bv Kathakixe Oi.ns Hamilton. 

DoKoTnv Sargent was a little girl who lived 
in Washington when it was called a citv only 
because some day it would be one ; when the 
broad avenues and streets existed only on paper ; 

■ (iOOD-BY, DEAS.'" (SKK PAGE 787.) 

when Pennsylvania Avenue itself was a quag- 

mire, and, walking along it from the small brick 
Treasury building, one could see no beautiful 
dome resting against the eastern sky, for the 

Capitol was but two wings, joined by a wooden and losses on each side. 
Vol. XXXI.— 99. 785 

bridge. Near this Capitol Dorothy was born, 
and, before many weeks, was left a little mother- 
less baby. Here she grew into a shy, lonely 
child, with no companions but the slaves who 
waited on her, and a very stem, very tall lady 
who came twice a week to teach her to sew and 
read. Her father she dearly loved, but he was 
too busy with his profession and politics to take 
much notice of his little daughter. 

One other companion Dorothy did have. 
Between the windows in the stately parlor a 
great pier-glass stretched from floor to ceiling. 
'• The little girl in the pier-glass " and Dorothy 
were the best of friends ; and before she was old 
enough to understand tliat this little girl, wJio 
grew as she grew, was only her reflection, she 
had become to lonely little Dorothy a really 
truly friend and confidante. When she was not 
playing with this little girl, or learning lessons, 
or gathering wild flowers that grew in the woods 
near the Capitol, Dorothy would spend her time 
curled up in a great arm-chair in the library, 
reading whatever pleased her from the shelves all 
around her, or listening to her father's friends 
as they talked of all that might happen to the 
country now that George Washington was dead. 

Dorothy was nearly ten years old when she 
first heard her father speak of another war with 
England. This interested even so Hide a girl, 
and she tried to hear and understand all about 
it. When they talked of " the lifting of the em- 
bargo" she did not know what they meant; but 
the gentlemen grew excited over the •' impress- 
ment of American sailors," by whicli Dorothy, 
years afterward, learned they meant that the 
British officers came on board our ships without 
leave, and made men who were really Americans 
go to work on their shij)s. 

Dorothy was always greatly intere.sted in all 
that her father's great friends would talk al)out, 
whether she clearly understood it or not, and she 
knew when war was declared, and the victories 

She heard many hot 




discussions between General Winder and Gen- 
eral Armstrong whether thev should heed the 
warning sent from England and put Washington 
in a state of defense. 

"The British will not come to the capital," 
she heard General .Armstrong say, and his voice 
was so strong and burly that she was sure he 
must know all about it. 

Very much astonished, then, was Dorothy to 
be awakened, early one August morning, by a 
clattering horseman, calling loudly as he rode : 
" The British have entered the Chesapeake ! 
They are preparing to march on Washington I " 

Dorothy was afraid to venture out all the 
morning, for fear the British would come sud- 
denly around some corner. When her father 
and some gentlemen came in, in the afternoon, 
she stowed herself away quickly in the big chair; 
but all she could learn was that they seemed to 
be almost quarreling, and that General Arm- 
strong still would not believe that the British 
intended to attack AVashington. 

Two mornings after this. Mammy hobbled 
into the little girl's room as she was slowly 
drawing the laces through her red morocco 

" Hurry up, chile ! Put on yo' clean pina- 
fore," she said. " Yo' father done sent fo' yo'." 

Her father sent for her ? The hot blood 
flushed into Dorothy's cheeks. She could 
hardly wait for Mammy to brush her curls ; yet 
when she came down to the dining-room, where 
her father, all in a soldier's uniform, was eating 
his breakfast, Dorothy stood just inside the door, 
twisting a comer of her apron, afraid to speak 
till she was spoken to, though bursting with 
impatience to ask what had happened. 

" Dorothy," he said in a moment, without 
looking up, " I sent for you to give you some 
directions. I suppose you are too young to 
understand much, but — " 

He stopped, and, turning suddenly, looked at 

" How old are you, my child ? " he asked. 

" I shall be twelve, sir, in December." 

'■ Why, so you w'ill, child, so you will ! I had 
forgotten you were so old. Come here and let 
me look at you." 

As he raised the earnest little face to his, her 
father looked keenly into her eyes and sighed. 

" We shall become better acquainted when I 
come back, little daughter," he said, adding as 
he kissed her forehead: "Secretary Monroe has 
just sent word that the British are within a few 
hours' march of Washington. We ha\e to 
meet them as best we can. Stay right here at 
home, Dorothy. I am sure you will be in no 
danger. I have given the servants careful orders 
what to do, but if anything should happen you 
are to go straight to Mrs. Madison. Siie will 
send you away with her sister Mrs. Cutts's chil- 
dren. You are not afraid, my child ? " 

" No, father," Dorothy answered. 

" Good-by, then, little daughter," and for the 
second time Dr. Sargent kissed her forehead. 

Dorothy's heart sang a happy little song that 
morning. Her father had kissed her twice ! 
He had called her " little daughter " ! He had 
said that when he came back they would be- 
come better acquainted ! 

" But suppose," thought Dorothy, with a 
choke in her throat, " suppose he never comes 
back ! Suppose he is killed by the bad redcoats ! 
Or he maybe brought home wounded — but 
then I shall nurse my father." 

The little girl sat down on the broad window- 
seat, resolved to watch there till she saw him 
coming home again. 

All day Dorothy watched for her father, and 
all through the summer night slept with her faith- 
ful little cheek against the casement, in spite of 
Mammy's scoldings and entreaties. The next 
day they could hear the long report and loud 
rumble of cannon to the northeast, and in the 
early afternoon disordered parties of flying sol- 
diers came hurrying by from Bladensburg. 
-About noon Mammy came to tell her little 
mistress that the servants had decided to escape 
to Georgetown. 

"' Father told you to stay right here. You 
are not to leave the house, any of you," Dorothy 

" Yo 'd better come 'long yo'self, honey, 'fore 
de redcoats snaps yo'," the old woman said. 

" You will do just as I say. Mammy!" the 
little girl re];)eated. 

Mammy went downstairs again, muttering to 
herself. The house was very still after that, and 
when Dorothy called for her lunch a half- 
hour later no one replied. .Again she called, 



and again, then ran downstairs in alarm. She 
was all alone in the big house ! 

" Never mind," Dorothy said bravely, as she 
came back to her post. " Father will come 
home soon." 

All that day, too, Dorothy's face was pressed 
against the window. In every squad of retreat- 
ing soldiers, growing and less frequent as 
the day wore on, she expected to see her father, 
and her heart grinv heavier .ind more frightened 

troops through the streets, this way and that, 
but all toward the Capitol ; and then, in a 
short time, Dorothy saw a great flame shoot up 
from the wooden bridge thai joined the two 
parts of the building. 

" Surely now," the little girl cried aloud, 
" what father was afraid of has happened ! I 
must go right to Mrs. Madison." 

She fastened on her bonnet with trembling 
hands, and, not daring to light a candle, groped 

• ILi^ olKL.1 LlllLb uIKL! ' ziHk. LALLtLi Kthi. ' kSHbKb AKb ^OU GOING?'" (SEE PAGE 788.) 

with each disappointment. As the twilight 
deepened she saw a great light shining from the 
southeast, but she did not know it was the 
Xavy-yard, set on fire by the escaping officers. 
It made the street as bright as day. Presently 
she heard the music of approaching soldiers. 

" Now at last," thought Dorothy, " father is 
coming home." 

But when they came nearer, and she saw that 
their coats were red, the little girl shrank back 
in alarm, and her heart for a moment stopped 
beating. Faster and faster came the British 

her way downstairs. When she reached the 
[larlor she hesitated. 

" Poor little pier-glass girl ! " she .said softly. 

She opened the parlor door, and felt her way 
around the room until her hand touched the 
cold glass; then, leaning forward, she kissed the 
reflection she could but dimly see. 

" Good-by, dear," she whispered. 

Half ashamed of the action, yet with a great 
lump choking in her throat, Dorothy made her 
way to the front door and out into the street. 
She knew it w'as a mile from the Capitol to the 




White House, and she knew, too, that the 
streets were full of dreadful soldiers ; but, like a 
wise little girl, she thought that the burning of 
the Capitol would draw them there, at least for 
a time. And she was right : the turmoil was 
all at the Capitol. 

" If I can get through dark byways," thought 
Dorothy, " they will not see me." 

But it takes longer to go through byways, 
and a mile is not a short road to travel alone at 
night. When she reached Lafayette Square the 
soldiers were there before her, and fire was 
shooting out of every window of the White 
House, while tiny flames were just beginning 
to light up the Treasury, and the State, War, 
and Navy Departments. Then, for a moment, 
Dorothy's brave little heart gave out. It had 
never occurred to her that the President's wife 
would not be there. She shrank back among 
the thick trees and bushes between St. John's 
Church and the President's House, afraid to 
stay or to go on. 

'• But I cannot stay here," she said to herself. 
" I must go to Georgetown, where Mammy is." 

The day was just dawning when a tired child 
dragged her feet heavily over Rock Creek and 
into Georgetown. A close carriage drove 
rapidly by, then stopped a little way beyond 
her. A very beautiful lady leaned out. 

" Litde girl ! Little girl ! " she called out. 
" Where are you going ? What is your name ? " 

Straight to the carriage poor, worn-out Doro- 
thy ran, and threw herself almost into it, cry- 
ing breathlessly, " My name is Dorothy, — some 
people call me Dolly, — and I 'm running awav 
from the British." 

The lady reached out her arms and drew 
the little girl in. 

" My name is Dorothy, and some people call 
me Dolly, too," she said, " and I 'm afraid I am 
running away from the British also. We will 
run together, little Dorothy." 

When Dorothy first found herself so unex- 
pectedly in the comfortable carriage, she sobbed 
and cried, for all the fright and weariness she 
had felt; but at last, when she had cried her 
tears out, she looked around her. Beside her 
sat the pretty lady, with a sad, far-away look on 
her face, and one slender foot put firmly on a 

square red leather box ; this box had brass 
nails closely set around its rim, and arranged on 
the top in the form of an oval. As Dorothy 
looked, a tear stole down the pretty lady's face, 
and the little girl shyly slipped her hand into 
the white one beside her. i 

The lady impulsively raised the little brown ■' 
hand to her cheek. " How came you to be out 
in the street alone, dear ? " she asked. 

" Father went to fight the British," Dorothy 
answered, " and he told us to stay in the house, 
but the servants were frightened and ran away. 
People like that cannot help being cowards, 
you know," she explained. 

" And then what did Dolly do ? " the lady 

" I stayed until they set the Capitol on fire. 
Father told me if anything happened to go 
straight to Mrs. Madison, and I thought that 
something had surely happened then." 

" It had indeed," the lady sighed, 'ihen she 
asked, " But whose child are you, dear, that you 
were told to go to Mrs. Madison ? " 

" I am Dorothy Sargent, ma'am." 

"Dr. Sargent's little girl?" the lady cried. 

"Yes; and Mrs. Madison was gone, you 
know. The White House was all on fire. I 
was all night getting to Georgetown." 

" Why, you poor httle dear '. " the pretty lady 

They sat silent for a long time. Many other 
carriages were on the road now, and people 
walking — often crowds of them. Once, when 
they had just changed horses, some rough men 
put their heads into the carriage. 

'• Hand over that box ! " one of them said. 

"You do not know to whom you are speak- 
ing," the pretty lady answered very proudly. 

"Oh, yes, we do," the man replied; "but 
them as were something yesterday may not be 
so much to-morrow. Hand it over ! " 

" Back, every one of you ! John, drive on ! " 
the lady commanded, and as the carriage dashed 
forward the men fell back. Dorothy thought 
the pretty lady looked like a queen. 

But in a moment she began to tremble, and 
she caught up Dorothy's little hand again and 
kissed it fervently. " We must let no one have 
the litde trunk, dear," she said. " It is full of 
the most valuable papers." 

1904. i 



In the afternoon they came to an out-of-the- 
way inn. The driver got down and went to 
the door, l)iit in a moment came back looking 

"Thev will not let us in," he said. 

"Will not let us in? This is the ulace my 
husband appointed." 

" They say the war is his fault," the driver 

'• (let back on the seat, John," said the lad)-. 
'• 1 will wait for my husband in the carriage." 

The weather had been growing dark and 
threatening the last mile, and now a terrible 
storm broke over them. The carriage swayed 
with the wind, and the horses reared in terror, 
while the rain came down in .sheets. The pretty 
lady drew the little girl closer to her. 

'• We must not be afraid, little Dolly," she 
said. "The same rain is putting out the fires 
in Washington." 

At that instant a man hurried out of the inn. 

" Come in, ma'am, come in out of the storm," 
he cried. " I did not know my men had been 
so rude ! " 

But when they were safe inside, Dolly's pretty 
ladv was more restless than in the carriage. 

She walked back and forth to the window, 
peering out. 

" If my husband were only safely here!" she 
cried again and again. 

The storm was nearly over when anotiicr 
carriage came driving up fast to the inn, and a 
moment later Dorothy saw a very small, thin- 
haired, middle-aged man come hastily into the 
room and clasp the i)retty lady in his arms. 
He was followed by several other gentlemen, 
among whom, to Dorothy's great delight, she 
saw her father. 

When Dr. Sargent had warmly greeted 
the small daughter he had thought safe with 
the little Cutts children, he turned to thank her 

" You have an obedient little girl, doctor," 
the lady said jestingly. " She did just as you 
told her. She came straight to Mrs. Madison." 

For the pretty lady who had been so kind to 
Dorothy Sargent was no other than Dolly 
Madison, the w-ife of the President; and if any 
of you ever go to the State Department at 
Washington, ask to be shown the little red 
trunk in which she carried away the state pa- 
pers when the British burned the city in 1814. 











liv C'akolvx 

Upon a branch some little birds were sitting in a row, 
All chittering and twittering as hard as they could go; 

When suddenly a bird 

Said, " Well, upon my word ! 
I 'm sure there is a fire in the valley dow^n below." 
And all the birds said, " Oh! We see the lurid glow ! 
There surely is a fire in the valley down below." 

The squirrels told the rabbits, who told the coons in turn ; 
The features of the creatures expressed extreme concern. 
They said, " There is no doubt 
That fire must be put out. 
There 's a village in the valley, and wc must not let it burn ' " 
" No, indeed ! " cried each in turn, with their faces set and stern ; 
"The village in the valley must not be allowed to burn !" 

Then they flew around like madmen, so e.xcitable were thex- ; 
They hurried and they (lurried and they scurried every wax ; 

When they heard a great stamjjede, 

.\nd at fearful rate of speed 
Came the Volunteer Department of the Bears of Precinct A ! 
Then they all cried out, " Hooray ! they will surely save the day ; 
('live three cheers and liip, hurrah, boys, for the Bears of Precinct A ! " 

The X'olunteers sped o'er the road as fast as fast could be ; 
Though lumbersome and cumbersome, they hustled eagerly. 

They rent the air with yells. 

And they sounded horns and bells. 
And said, " We will put out that fire, as you shall quickly see." 
And they laughed aloud in glee to think how cleverly 
They 'd reach the fire and put it out and get back home for tea. 

But what d' you think those Bears fcnmd out when they their goal had won, 
And babbling and scrabbling they came up on a run ? 

The lurid gloxv had faded, 

.And the village folk said, they did. 
That there xvas no fire ! It only was the setting of the sun! 
But the Bears said, " We had fun, and a very pleasant run. 
And, as you see, the fire is out, and so our xvork is done. 
It 's such a lot of fun to put out a setting sun ; 
And, as you see, the fire is out, so now our work is done ! " 


Bv Harriet Prescott Spofford. 

How history repeats itself, 

You '11 say, when you rememl)er Grant, 
Who, in his boyhood days, once sought 

Throughout the lexicon for " can't." 

He could not find the word that daj-, 

The earnest boy whose name was Grant ; 

He never found it through long years, 
With all their power to disenchant. 

No hostile host could give him pause ; 

Rivers and mountains could not daunt ; 
He never found that hindering word — 

The steadfast man whose name was Grant. 


By Ai.i ax p. Ames. 

When Mr. .\rmitage, who kept the new 
shoe-store, announced his prize squash contest, 
Daltonville wondered how he could afford it. 
There were fifteen prizes, ranging from a set 
of parlor furniture said to be worth forty-five 
dollars, to a fifty-cent jack-knife. But when 
people learned the conditions of the competi- 
tion, they ceased wondering and admired his 
business enterprise. For only squa.shes grown 
from seeds obtained of Mr. Armitage were eli- 
gible for prizes, and to get seeds it was neces- 
sary to buy at least a dollar's worth of his goods. 

Joe Edwards, as soon as the competition was 
announced, started into town with a dollar and 
a half to buy a new pair of shoes for his sister 
Jennie. lie and his mother managed to re- 
tain possession of their comfortable old house 
on the outskirts of the village only by exercis- 
ing the closest economy. There were two 
other children besides himself and Jennie — 
Stephen, named for their father, and baby 
John. In summer their rooms were filled with 
boarders from the city and money was more 
plentiful ; but at this time the season for board- 
ers had not yet opened. 

When Joe left Mr. Armitage's shop that day, 
besides the new shoes he had a little paste- 
board bo.x containing a dozen dried seeds. 

Joe was eager to get home, so he took a 
short cut through the orchard. As he jumped 
the last stone wall he spied the children tum- 
bling around on the grass, enjoying the first 
really warm day of the spring — for last year baby 
John was too little to play. As soon as they 
caught sight of Joe they tumbled baby into the 
huge basket which they had brought out for his 
" house," and, lifting it between them, started 
to head Joe ofl. Easily guessing that Jennie 
was anxious to see the new purchase, he 
tos.sed the package of shoes to her, and quickly 
walked off to the last year's onion-bed in a 
secluded spot back of the house. 

When it comes to rapid growing, no other 
Vol. XXXT.-ioo. • 

garden vegetable compares with the squash- 
vine. Even under adverse conditions it will 
run so fast that its progress can be marked 
from one day to the next. To guard against 
accidents, Joe planted half a dozen seeds, and, 
when the shoots appeared, watched them care- 
fully in order to find as soon as possible which 
was the hardiest. At the end of two weeks he 
rooted up all but two, leaving these at opposite 
ends of the bed so that they would not inter- 
fere with each other's growth. 

One morning near the middle of June he 
was measuring and comparing measurements, 
when he heard a step behind him, and looked 
up to find Mr. Alward, the new boarder. 

" Good morning," said Mr. Alward. "You 
are taking particularly good care of that squash- 

Joe had a poor opinion of city people's 
knowledge of farming matters ; but Mr. .Al- 
ward showed such an intelligent interest that 
he answered his questions politely, and in the 
end told all about the prize contest. " I 
have n't much hope of winning," said he ; " but 
there 's no harm in trying. Most of us boys are. 
Perhaps I '11 get one of the smaller prizes." 

" Your chances are as good as anybody's," 
replied Mr. Alward. " You have chosen an 
excellent piece of ground, and your squash is 
doing first-rate. I am interested in such 
things, you .see." 

" Is that so! " exclaimed Joe, stopping work. 
" Then perhaps you can give me some points 
on how to do this. Do you think the vine is 
growing fast enough ? It is two inches longer 
than it was yesterday morning." 

" Plenty fast enough ; in fact, if it were mine 
I should n't let it get much longer. You see, 
the prize is not for the longest vine, but the 
largest squash. And the longer the vine — be- 
yond a certain point — the smaller the squash. 
I see several little squashes : jvhich do you in- 
tend to cultivate for the prize ? " 




" I have n't picked out any particular one," 
said Joe. " I can't tell which will be the best 
until fall, when they get their full growth." 

" You are on the wrong track," declared the 
boarder, with a smile. " Let me e.xplain. 
This vine can absorb only a certain amount of 
nourishment from the ground and air. If it 
distributes that nourishment among half a 
dozen squashes, you can easily understand that 
each will get less than just one would if it were 
the only one on the vine. If you '11 allow me, 
I '11 show you what I mean." 

" All right, sir," said Joe. " I guess you 
know more about it than I do." 

Mr. Alward bent over the vine and pinched 
off the ends of the longest shoots, as well as 
all but three of the green squashes, now about 
the size of potatoes. " There," he said. 
" Never mind about the other vine ; this is the 
better one. Now watch these small squashes 
I have left, and as soon as you are sure which 
will do the best, remove the rest. And don't 
let the vine grow any longer. As fast as the 
new creepers show themselves, pinch them off." 

" How about all these leaves ? " inquired 
the boy, quickly grasping the idea. " They 
are n't doing any good, are they ? Had n't I 
better pick them off, too ? " 

" By no means," answered Mr. Alward. " If 
you did, you probably would kill the plant. 

during the night. Joe had told none of his 
friends anything about his trying for the prize. 
No one knew of it but his mother, Mr. Alward, 
and Joe's sister. Jennie was as keenly excited 
over the contest as was Joe himself, and she 
would often sit at the window of her room, at 
the back of the old house, and talk to Joe as 
he weeded and fed his beloved squash. 

The second vine was rooted up, and by the 
end of July one of the three squashes on the 
other showed such unmistakable superiority 
that its two companions were lopped off, leav- 
ing this one alone. 

By August, Daltonville was pretty familiar 
with the news that Joe Edwards had a marvel- 
ous squash. But, although they did not attract 
as much attention because their cultivators 
were grown men, at least five other squashes 
gave equal promise ; and the men who raised 
these were veterans of many prize contests, who 
had no fear of being beaten by a fourteen-year- 
old boy. The weighing-in at the Armitage 
shoe-store did not take place until the 15th 
of October, and it is the last month that counts 
the most in a squash-growing contest. 

About the middle of September, Mr. Alward, 
who had returned to the city, received from 
Joe this urgent letter: 

Last night I walked over to Mr. Williams's garden 
and measured his squash. It is six inches larger 

'as soon as they caught sight of joe they tumbled baby into the huge basket. 

The leaves are as important as the roots. They 
take in nourishment from the atmosphere, while 
the roots are drawing it up from the soil." 

.\fter this Joe and the boarder met at the 
squash-patch for consultation almost every 
morning. It was astonishing how much atten- 
tion that vine required. Apparently every 
worm and bug in the garden sought it out, 
and as for weeds, they sprang up by battalions 

around than mine, and looks greener, as if it had 
longer to grow. I 've done everything you told me, 
but mine does n't get much bigger. I 'm afraid 
it 's got its growth. Is n't there anything else I can 
do that will help it? I hate to lose that prize after 
we 've worked so hard for it. 

The following day brought Mr. Alward him- 
self. The matter was too important to trust to 
the mails, he said. " I 've been all through it 



myself," he observed, as he and Joe walked out 
to the prize squash-patch, "and I know just 
how vou feel. After I got your letter I con- 
sulted a friend of mine who teaches agricultural 
chemistry in a college. He toUl me a scheme 


wards removed the blanket which for the past 
few nights had guarded the squash from the 
frost. Then he cut it from the vine and took 
it to the store in a wheelbarrow. 

The weighing-in began at ten o'clock. 


I never heard of before, but he believes that 
it will work, and if he 's right we shall win in 
spite of our friend Williams. Have you plenty 
of milk at your house? " 

"Why, yes," replied Joe, wonderingly. " Now 
that most of the boarders are gone, the cow 
gives more than we know what to do with." 

" Get a quart of milk and a funnel, and I '11 
show you the new plan," said Joe's friend, 
laughing at his bewilderment. 

When Joe had carried out his directions, Mr. 
Alward pulled out his penknife and cut a slit in 
the stalk on the upper side, near where it en- 
tered the body of the squash. Then he ham- 
mered the small end of the funnel flat until its 
sides almost met, and set it in the opening. 

" Now," said he, " in with the milk." 

Joe poured until the funnel was full. "There 
is n't room for all of it," he said. 

" Wait a minute," replicil Mr. .Alward. .And 
even as he spoke the liquid in the funnel began 
to settle. It continued going down, as they 
watched it, until not a drop remained. 

Joe rubbed his eyes in amazement. " I 'd 
never believed it if I had n't seen it. The 
squash has drunk it all up! " 

Mr. Alward smiled. " Now if you give this 
fellow a drink twice a day it ought to get fat 
as fast as the pigs. About a pint at a time 
should be enough." 

On the morning of October 15, Joe Ed- 

Several squashes tipped the scales at one 
hundred pounds and just under; l)ut when 
farmer Williams's entry was dumped on the 
platform, the crowd broke into exclamations 
of admiration. 

" He 's got it, sure enough," said several. 
" There 's no use trying any more." 

The weight of the Williams squash was one 
hundred and fourteen pounds. When Joe 
heard the announcement his heart sank. He 
had had no means of weighing his own, and 
his rival's certainly looked the larger. Yet, 
when the question was left to the scales, the 
beam bobbed up with a clang, and the amazed 
shoe-dealer was obliged to move the balance 
.w-eight forward many notches. 

" One hundred and twenty-two pounds ! " 
was the announcement. 

Mr. Armitage gazed about him. Joe's was 
the last squash weighed. " Ladies and gentle- 
men," said he, " I take pleasure in awarding 
the forty-five-dollar parlor suite to Mr. " — 
consulting the card tied to the stem of the 
vegetable on the scales — "to Master Joseph 
Edwards. Where is he ? " 

" Here !" shouted Joe, joyfully stepping for- 

" Hold on, thar !" came a voice from the 
crowd. " I enter protest ag'in' that squash. It 
ain't fair. It 's loaded to make it weigh heavy." 

The speaker was Williams. " It ain't nat'ral 




that this squash should weigh more 'n mine," tion ; for Joe was as popular in Daltonville as 

he growled, as he advanced and pointed out Williams was disliked. 

the rivals where they lay side by side, for lu's " You ought not to make such grave charges, 

certainly looked the larger. neighbor Williams, without proof," said the 

" I say there 's something been put into this storekeeper, mildly. " We all know widow 


one to make it weigh heavy," repeated the old Edwards's son, and hesitate to believe that he 

man, angrily, rapping on Joe's squash with his would stoop to any such thing." 

knuckles. " Proof ! " shouted Williams. " I 've got 

"Nothing of the sort," replied the bov, in- proof enough; I 've got a witness. Here, Hi, 
dignantly. "You have no right, Mr. Williams, tell them what you and me saw Saturday even- 
to accuse me of a dishonest trick." ing when we were comin' 'cross lots." 

To this the crowd murmured its approba- -At this, the old farmer's hired man stood 




forth and told, not without reluctance, of hav- 
ing watched Joe put a funnel in the top of his 
squash and pour in some fluid whose exact 
nature they could not make out. " But we 
suspected 't was white lead," he added, "that 
bein' the heaviest liquid he could get around 

" Look over his squash and see if it 's 
plugged," suggested some one. 

" It has n't a flaw," answered Mr. .\rmitage. 
" I 've been examining." 

"Then cut her open!" yelled Williams. 
" You '11 find her chock-full of lead ; I '11 bet 
my hoss on it." 

" Yes, cut it open," repeated several voices 
in the crowd. 

Joe was willing enough to have this done, 
and was about to give his consent, when sud- 
denly there was a movement in the front ranks 
of the onlookers, and Mr. Alward appeared. 
Joe could only gape in astonishment. 

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," 
said his protector, sternly, " conspiring to in- 
jure this lad's property! A squash as big as 
that is worth a considerable sum entire, but cut 
up it 's no better than others. In fact, I in- 
tended to buy it myself, if the owner would 
sell, to put it on exhibition in my store window." 

" How much would you give fer it?" asked 
Williams, suddenly. 

" That depends upon how much Master 
Edwards asks. I should call ten dollars a fair 
price. One hundred and twenty-two pound 
squashes are rare enough to be valuable." 

Without a word, Williams pulled out an 
aged wallet and selected therefrom two five- 
dollar bills. " Look here, Mr. City Man," 
said he, with a sneer, " this money shows that 
I mean business. Here 's ten dollars that I '11 
put in Mr. Armitage's hands. If we find this 
squash all right and fair inside, the money be- 

longs to the boy. If there's anything crooked 
about it, the ten goes back to me and I get 
the first prize." And so it was agreed. 

But now, when he saw them preparing to 
mangle his beloved squash, a fear smote him 
lest, in some unexplainable manner, something 
might have happened in its unknown interior 
which, when revealed, would leave him forever 
discredited in the eyes of all Daltonville. 

It was no easy task opening a big squash 
with a rind hard almost as shoe-leather, but 
after much hacking and sawing it was accom- 
plished, and the hemispheres fell asunder. 
Williams and as many as could crowd into the 
circle bent forward eagerly to inspect the con- 
tents. All they saw was a mass of smooth 
yellow pulp and white seeds. Thanks to its milk 
diet, this squash was of remarkable soundness. 

" Cut her again I " shouted the old farmer. 
The squash was quartered, with the same lack 
of startling discoveries. Not until the once 
magnificent vegetable lay chopped into sinall 
bits did ^Villiams give up the fight. With a 
scowl of baffled rage, he pushed through the 
jeering crowd and made for the door. Mr. 
Armitage and several others called after him to 
return and get his second prize ; but he gave no 
heed, and was last seen driving rapidly out of 
the village. 

"Well, young man," said the shoe-dealer, 
turning to Joe, " we 've spoiled your squash, 
but here 's ten dollars to pay for it and your 
anxiety. The first jirize is yours. I congratu- 
late you. If I were in the vegetable-raising 
business instead of the shoe trade, I 'd want 
you for a partner." 

The forty-five-dollar set of furniture adds not 
a little to the decoration of widow Edwards's 
cozy parlor. Whenever Mr. Alward pays them 
a visit — which is pretty often — he never fails 
to step in for a moment and admire it. 



By Gabrielle E. Jackson. 

Chapter VII. 


I NEED not tell you a word about the per- 
formance. You have all been to the circus, and 
I dare say to much finer circuses than this little 
country show ; but I doubt if you ever laughed 
more heartily at the funny pranks of the clowns 
and trick ponies, or ever enthused more wildly 
over the beautiful horses and wonderful trapeze 
performances, than did our happy party. 

When the show came to an end, Mr. Lom- 
bard said : 

" Now keep all in a line close behind me, 
and then we shall not become separated in this 
jam, for the whole town is turned loose, I firmly 

So off the procession started, Hart well in the 
lead, with Mr. Lombard's hands upon his shoul- 
ders to " steer him straight," then followed in 
order grandma, Mrs. Lombard, Denise, and 
Pokey, as usual, at the end. 

Who can check the outpouring of a circus 
crowd ? Willy-nilly they were swept out into 
the moonlight. 

The next day was Sunday, and Mrs. Lom- 
bard, when all were seated at the dinner-table, 
said : " We have waited for Pokey to arrive 
before making our first visit to the' Chapel ' this 
year. John finished putting it in order yester- 
day afternoon, and we will all go up at about 
three o'clock." 

Before long the whole party set out for the 
beautiful little woodland retreat which went by 
the name of the Chapel because, during the 
summer, the family spent nearly every Sunday 
afternoon there, resting in the hammocks, in the 
comfortable rustic seats, or stretched at length 
upon the soft moss. Plenty of cushions were 
always carried, and a more restful, soothing 
spot it would have been hard to find. The 
path led up the hill and through the fields to 
the wood's edge, and just within it, where the 





view of the river was most charming, the seats 
had been built. 

All were toiling up the hill, burdened with 
their cushions and books. Denise had Tan on 
one side of her and Ned on the other. She 
had thrown an arm across each neck, and was 
saying, " Now hay-foot, straw-foot," to teach 
them to keep in step. Not far behind came 
Pokey upon " Mrs. Mama's " arm, for Pokey had 
not had time to gain her full strength yet, and 
the hill made her pant. Grandma was assisted 
by papa's arm, and all were " making haste 

"Hay-foot, straw-foot! Hay-foot, s-t-r-a-w 
— oh ! oh ! oh I " haa-a-a-a-a-a ! and a screech- 
ing neigh ! Then pandemonium reigned for 
a few moments, for the " straw-foot " had been 
planted fairly and squarely in a ground-hornets' 
nest, and out flew a buzzing, busy throng of 
startled housekeepers. In their haste to reach 
the house Denise stumbled and fell, and when 
she tried to get up she found that her ankle had 
been badly sprained, and she had to be carried 
into the house. Ned and Tan, however, felt 
the full force of the hornet horde, and when they 
arrived at the stable John was kept busy w-ith 
hot water and liniment for their poor stung skins. 

He had just made Tan comfortable and be- 
gun upon Ned when he noticed a man standing 
by the fence and looking at the pony as he 
brushed him and rubbed ointment where the 
stings were worst. John gave a friendly nod, 
and said : " It 's lively wor-rk we 've been liavin' 
this past two hours ! " 

" What 's happened ? " asked the man. 

John related the story of the hornets' nest. 

" Fine little beast, that," said the man, pres- 

" You niver saw the loike of him in all yer 
loife ! " said John, proudly. 

" What will you take for him ? " 

" What '11 I take fer him, is it ye 're askin' ? 
Faith, he 's not mine to sell, as ye well know, but 
ye 'd better not be askin' the master that same." 

"What 's the boss's name ? " 

" What 's that to you ? " demanded John, 
with some asperity, for he was beginning to dis- 
like the man. 

" Say, I know a man who '11 give a cool two- 
fifty for him, and never wink." 

" Well, he may save his offer, thin, fer the 
boss paid three-fifty fer him not more than two 
year ago, and would n't sell him fer twict that, 
me son." 

" Want ter make a deal ? You git him to 
sell the little horse to my man fer just what 
he paid fer him, an' it '11 mean a fifty fer you." 

But this w^as too much. " Who the mischief 
are ye, thin, I 'd loike to know ? Get out av 
this, an' if I catch ye about the place with yer 
blackguard offers, I 'II call the constable for ye 
as sure as iver me name 's John Noonan," and 
John advanced toward the fence with ire in 
his eyes — whereupon the stranger promptly 
hastened away. 

" Did iver ye listen to sooch chake as that, 
me foine boy ? " John asked his small charge. 
" Don't ye let it worry ye heart, me son ; it 's not 
goin' to be sold out of this home ye arc — not 
fer no money ! " 

On Monday the circus gave another perform- 
ance, and, after that given in the evening, crossed 
the river by special arrangement with the ferry- 
boat and went upon its way. 

As Pokey never drove Ned, he was not used 
at all on Monday, for Denise's ankle had grown 
worse and she could not bear her weight upon 
it. At eight o'clock that evening Ned had 
been locked in his little stable as usual. 

It was John's custom to come early to his 
work, his own home being a short walk across 
the fields, and si.\ o'clock usually found him at 
the stable door, to be greeted with welcoming 
neighs by the horses, which had learned to love 
him, and Denise's pets, who found in John a 
very faithful attendant. After opening up the 
big stable, he went over to the " Birds' Nest" 
and was surprised to find the door unlocked. 

" Now who 's been that careless, I wonder ? " 
he muttered. 

Then, entering, he wondered why he did not 
hear Ned's morning greeting. Filled with mis- 
giving, he hurried across the floor and looked 
over the top of the door of the stall. 

Ned was gone I 

But even then the true situation did not dawn 
upon him, and he hurried out to look all about 
the grounds and in every place where Ned 
could possibly have strayed. But no Ned was 
to be found, and now, thoroughly alarmed, he 




went to the kitchen to ask Eliza, who was just 
lighting her morning fire, to call Mr. Lombard. 

" Whatever has happened you ? " demanded 
Eliza, looking up from her range. " Ye look 
like ye 'd seen a ghost." 

" The little horse is gone ! I 've hunted the 
place for him and can find no trace of him," 
answered John, in a distressed voice. 

"The saints save us! What will that dear 
child do ? " said Eliza, in dismay. 

" Go quick and call master," was John's 

" Don't let this get to Miss Denise's ears, if 
it can possibly be helped," said Mr. Lombard 
when he and John had returned from a fruitless 
search. " There may be some foundation for 
your suspicion regarding that man who spoke 
to you on Sunday, and coupled with what 
Denise has told me about the circus manager's 
questions, I am forced to admit that it does not 
look well. Go up to the village and ask Mr. 
Stevens to come to me as quickly and as quietly 
as possible, for this case needs both a lawyer 
and detectives. I will warn the others to keep 
silent;" and with a very troubled face Mr. 
Lombard entered the house. 

But all that day passed, and still others, with- 
out revealing a trace of Ned. Inquiries set 
afoot came to naught. The circus had left at 
I A.M., but Ned had not been among the 
ponies. If he were really stolen, as Mr. Lom- 
bard was reluctantly compelled to believe, — for 
that wise little beast was not going to lose him- 
self, or stay away from home voluntarily, — those 
who tried to get him away must have exercised 
great skill in doing so, for everybody in that 
town knew him. 

The search had been on foot for three days, 
and Mrs. Lombard, Denise, and Pokey were 
sitting in the mother's room on Thursday morn- 
ing, when Hart called to Mrs. Lombard from 
the bottom of the stairs, " Please may I speak 
with you a second ? " 

Mrs. Lombard hastened into the hall, for 
she was fearful that the message pertained to 
Ned, and even though the voice vibrated with 
hope, she did not wish the message to be heard 
by Denise unless it was the one she longed for. 
Hart had scoured the country upon Pinto, but 
thus far to no purpose. Half-way down the 

stairs Hart met her, and whispered, as he sup- 
posed in a low voice : 

" They think they 've found a clue to Ned's 
whereabouts, for that man who spoke to John 
was seen 'way up by Hook Mountain, and had 
come across the river in a great big boat, big 
enough to carry Ned over in ! And — " 

" Hush ! " whispered Mrs. Lombard, holding 
up a warning finger. But it was too late. Over 
the railing hung a white little face, and a pair 
of wild eyes looked beseechingly at her mother 
as Denise, who had limped to the stairway, de- 
manded : " What do you mean ? Ned found ? 
Clue to Ned's whereabouts ? Where is he ? 
What has happened since I 've been laid up ? 
Tell me — tell me ! " 

Feelmg that a real tragedy had come into 
her little girl's life, — for Mrs. Lombard fully real- 
ized how strong was the tie between Denise and 
this well-beloved pet, — the mother stepped , 
quickly to her little daughter's side, put an arm 
about her, and said : " Come into the sitting- f 
room, darling, and let me tell you all about it. 
I had thought to spare you the anxiety, for we 
are confident that all will end well ; but now 
you would better know the truth." 

Trembling from sympathy, Pokey had drawn 
near and taken one of Denise's hands, and now 
stood beside her, looking into her eyes as though 
beseeching her not to be quite heartbroken. 
Hart, with contrition stamped upon his hand- 
some boyish face, had crept up the stairs and 
was looking in at the door. Drawing Denise 
beside her upon the couch, Mrs. Lombard said 
in her calm, soothing voice : 

" When John went to the stable Monday 
morning Ned was not there. At first we thought 
that he had managed to run away, but later we 
were convinced that he could not have gone 
voluntarily, and a thorough search has been 
made. Thus far it has been fruitless, but Hart 
has just reported that one of the men whom we 
now know to have been connected with the 
circus has been seen hereabout, and we have 
further learned that which surprises us not a 
little: that Ned once belonged to another 
branch of this very circus — indeed, that he and 
Sindbad, the big black horse with whom he so 
promptly renewed his acquaintance, were for- 
merly ring companions and performed tricks 

I904 1 


80 1 

together. All this papa's men have discovered, 
and also that, about a year before Ned became 
yours, the circus then being in need of money, 
Ned was sold, very much to the regret of 
the proprietor. When more pros|)erous days 
returned they tried to find him, but could not, 
and not until they chanced to come to Spring- 
dale did they ever see their clever little trick 
pony again. Then this manager recognized him 
from the odd mark upon his right temple, and 
sent this man down to see if he could buy him 
back again ; but John sent him to the right- 
about with a word of advice. Then Ned van- 
ished, and naturally our first thought flew to 
the circus. But Ned is not with it, nor yet with 
the main body of it, for papa has sent every- 
where. If they have taken him, they have 
surely hidden him somewhere till the excite- 
ment shall have passed, and they think it safe 
to bring him upon the scene far from this 
section of the country. There, my dear little 
girl, is all the truth, and you understand better 
than any one else can how very, very sorry I am 
to be forced to tell it to you " ; and Mrs. Lom- 
bard held Dcnise close to her and tenderly 
kissed her forehead. 

Not a sound was heard in that room for a few 
moments save the ticking of the little clock 
upon the mantel, and then Denise asked in a 
strange, hard little voice : 

" You say that the man was seen up near 
Hook Mountain ? " 

"Yes!" burst in Hart. "He had rowed 
across the river, they think, and was prowling 
along the shore in a great big boat. Patsy 
Murphy was out on the river fishing, and 
saw him, and tokl Mr. Stevens when he got 

" Hart," cried Denise, suddenly, the big 
brown eyes filling with a fire which boded ill 
for any one minded to take Ned from her, " do 
you remember that little wild path we once 
came upon on Hook Mountain, when you and 
1 were trying to find a short cut over to the 
lake one day? It led around the curve of the 
mountain, and seemed to end, but when we 
forced our way through the underbrush it led 
down to an old brick-yard dock. We said at 
the time that it would be a splendid place to 
play Captain Kidd and bury a treasure, for no- 

VoL. XWI.— loi. 

body would ever think of scrambling 'way 
round there." 

" Of course I remember," cried Hart, catch- 
ing her excitement, although as yet he hardly 
knew why. 

" Have )()u hunted there?" 

" No ! I never once thought of that place." 

" Please go quick, ami take Sui/ar. Give 
him something of Ned's to smell, and then say, 
' Find Ned, Sailor ; find him ! ' and he will 
know just what you mean, because that is what 
I always say to him when he and Ned and Tan 
and I play hide-and-seek, as we often do when 
we are alone. I would go too, but somehow I 
don't feel very well, and I — I — " And the 
voice dwindled oft' into nothingness as poor 
little nearly heartbroken Denise drew a long 
sigh and dropped into her mother's arms, for 
the time being, oblivious of her loss and grief. 

Hart fled, muttering an excited " Plague 
take that old circus ! Wish the old thing had 
never showed up in Springdale I I '11 go up to 
that place before another hour, and if Ned is 
anywiiere in the mountain, I '11 have him — 
that 's all — no matter who has him now ! 
Wish I could catch that man; I 'd jiunch his 
head for him ! I 'd — I 'd — Why did n't we 
think of Sailor before ? Pinto, you must just 
hustle //lis time! " And with his thoughts upon 
the gallop, Hart rushed across the lawn, calling 
to Sailor, who was always ready to follow, and 
five minutes later was tearing up the road 
toward Hook Mountain on Pinto, with Sailor 
bounding on ahead of him. 

Meantime Denise had come to her senses, 
but was lim[) as a little rag, for she had not yet 
recovered from the effect of her fall, and the 
news about Ned had been as a thunderbolt to 
her. But Mrs. Lombard was a wise nurse, and 
presently had the satisfaction of seeing her patient 
slip away into dreamland. 

Chapter VIII. 


Hart tore through tlie village, and soon was 
galloping up the road leading to Hook Moun- 
tain. Before long he came to the point at 
which the main road turned- aside to wind its 
way by a circuitous route over the mountain, 




and this was the only road known to the ordi- 
nary traveler to the fairy-like lake which lay in 
a lap of the mountain. But not so to the chil- 
dren, who had scoured the country for miles in 
every direction. A little path which seemed to 
end at the edge of an adjoining field did not 
end there at all, but made its way through the 
undergrowth, up, down, in, and out. until it 
finally scrambled over to the other side of the 
steep cliff, at whose base, )'ears before, a small 
dock had been built for the accommodation of 
the long since dismantled brick-yard. Stopping 
at the entrance of the path, Hart called Sailor to 
him, and taking from under his arm the saddle- 
cloth of Ned's saddle, said to Sailor: "Here, 
old boy, see this? Smell it. It 's Ned's, Ned's ! 
Find him. Sailor! that 's a good dog! Find him!" 

If ever an animal's eyes spoke. Sailor's did 
then; for, giving Hart one comprehensive 
glance from those big brown ones, so full of 
love and devotion, he began to bark and caper 
about like a puppy. Then Hart started Pinto 
forward, and he and Sailor began their search. 
On and on they went. Mile after mile mea- 
sured off behind them, as they brushed by over- 
hanging boughs, stumbled through the tangled 
undergrowth, and repeatedly stopped to call 
and listen. Hart telling Sailor to bark for Ned, 
and the deep bark waking the echoes of the 
silent woods. As though he understood what 
they were doing, Pinto too would often join in 
with a loud neigh, but no responsive neigh 
could be heard. 

Nearly three hours had slipped away, and 
the boy was beginning to lose hope, when they 
came upon the old dock, and Sailor, uttering a 
low growl, walked toward it with hair bristling 
and in that peculiar manner a Newfoundland 
dog advances upon his enemy — a sort of 
" come-on-and-face-me-fairly-and-squarely" air. 
Hart drew rein and called, while down his 
spine crept a wee bit of a chill, for he was 
far from home, and entirely defenseless. But 
there was no sign of living thing, and think- 
ing that Sailor must have been mistaken. Hart 
called to him and went on into the wood again. 
Had he been able to see the lower side of the 
dock, he might have discovered a large flat- 
bottomed boat tied close under the overhang- 
ing shed of the old dock, while from beneath 

the rickety boards peered a pair of steely eyes 
which watched his every movement. Hart was 
indeed in greater peril than he suspected, for 
this man would be the richer by a considerable 
sum of money if he carried out successfully 
the dastardly laid scheme of the one who 
offered it to him; and to sit hidden there and 
see his plans cast to the winds before his very 
eyes, unless he resorted to far worse villainy 
than that already afoot, was a sore temptation. 

With hair still bristling, and an occasional 
admonitory growl, Sailor stalked very slowly 
after Hart, looking back from time to time to 
guard against trouble from the rear. They 
reached the point where the path wound its 
way up the jagged rocks, and where they had 
been forced to pause when he and Denise ex- 
plored it before, and a feeling of despair began 
to settle upon him, for it seemed utterly hope- 
less to look farther. Sailor stood panting be- 
side Pinto, evidently trying to ask, " What 
next ? " when suddenly he supplied the answer 
himself; for, putting his head close to the ground, 
he gave one long sniff, and then uttered a joy- 
ous bark and dashed into the woods. As it 
was almost impossible for Pinto to make way 
through the tangle, Hart scrambled from his 
back and tore after Sailor. Just as he did so. 
Sailor barked again, and far off in the distance 
a faint whinny answered him. 

" Gee-willikens, Christmas ! If that is n't 
Ned's whinny I 'm a bluefish ! " shouted Hart, 
and the next moment almost tumbled into a 
little dell at the bottom of which a sight greeted 
him that made him throw his cap into the air 
and simply yell. In a little cleared space, firmly 
tied to a tree, a dirty old blanket strapped upon 
him, and the remains of his last meal scattered 
upon the ground near him, stood little Ned, 
with Sailor licking his velvety nose and whining 
over him as though he were a little puppy. 
The next second Hart had his arms around 
Ned's neck, laughing, talking, asking questions 
as though he were talking to a human being 
who could answer if he only would. And Ned 
very nearly did, for the little fellow's joy was 
pathetic to witness. 

When Hart had somewhat calmed down, he 
discovered how Ned had been brought into his 
hiding-place, for at the other side of it there 





were distinct traces of his hoof-marks, and Hart 
lost not a second more in untying the rope which 
held him and leading him out that way. It came 
out upon the wood path somewhat below the 
I)oint where Pinto had been waiting, but at 
Hart's call Pinto came picking his way down 
the path, and was greeted by his old friend with 
a joyous neigh. They had not gone far when 
Sailor gave signs of anger. He stopped for an 
instant, and then, with a low hark of warning, 
sprang after a man who suddenly appeared 
from the undergrowth and was coming out of 
the wood to intercept Hart. 



^ ' Had not Sailor acted SO promptly 
one trembles to think what might 
have been the outcome of Hart's adventure. 
Hut as the man bent down to avoid the low- 
hanging branches in entering the pathway, 
Sailor, now thoroughly aroused, sprang upon 
him and bore him to the ground face down- 
ward, then, planting both front feet squarely 
upon the man's back and holding him 
firmly by his coat collar, the faithful dog 




held him prisoner, growling in his ear : " If 
you know what is well for you, you won't 
move ! " 

" Guard him, Sailor, guard him ! " shouted 
Hart. " Hold him fast, good dog, and I '11 





send some one to you ! " And scrambling upon 
Pinto's back and leading Ned by his rope, he 
plunged along the path at a pace fit to 
bring destruction upon all three. But he had 
no thought of destruction just then, his only 
thought being to send some one to the noble 
dog's aid. He reached the main road, and was 
tearing along at breakneck speed, when he 
came upon a hay-wagon which had just turned 
in from a roadside field. Pulling up so sud- 
denly that he nearly fell over Pinto's head, he 
shouted : " Quick ! Quick ! Run up into the 
woods, for Mr. Lombard's Sailor has caught 
the man who was tr^'ing to steal Ned Toodles, 
and is holding him fast." 

All Springdale knew the story, and the three 
men in the hay-wagon tumbled out of it as one 
man, to run toward the wood-path, while Hart, 
still quivering with excitement, again pelted off 
toward home and friends. He was still rivaling 
John Gilpin when a voice from the side of the 
road called : 

" Oh, Hinky-Dinky ! Hinky-Dinky! Where 
did you find him ? Where did you find him ? " 
And up bounded Pokey, to plant herself al- 
most directly in his path, for joy made her 

reckless. They were on the lower side of the 

village, Pokey having walked and walked till 

she was weary, and then seated herself by the 

roadside to rest. Hart slid off Pinto's back, 

and both ponies were glad to stop, for Hart 

had never given a thought to 

time, distance, or heat in his 

eagerness to reach home. 

' ""■;;" Both ponies were blowing 

like porpoises, and for once 

■s*. in her hfe Pokey forgot all fear 

of Ned Toodles, and gathering 

the pony's head in her arms, 

proceeded to sob out her joy 

upon his neck. 

" I say, what the mischief are 
you crying about now when we 've 
got him ?" demanded Hart, with a boy's usual 
disgust for tears. " Those fellows up there will 
fix that man all right, and Sailor 's a trump. 
Come on home, for that 's where we want to 
get Ned now just as quick as ever we can"; 
and he gave Pokey's sleeve a pull. 

" I know it," she answered, raising her head 
from Ned's silky mane. " But I 'm just simply 
shaky, I 'm so happy ; and please let me take 
Ned to Denise, for I could n't go to find him, 
and I wanted to do something so badly." 

" Of course you may, but I thought you 
were scared to death of him," said Hart, 
amazed to find that timid Pokey, who had in- 
variably kept some one between herself and 
Ned, wanted to lead him. But on they went, 
and Hart had cause to be more surprised be- 
fore he w-as less so, for Pokey hurried along the 
road, Ned pattering beside her, and occasion- 
ally tugging at the rope to hasten her steps as 
he drew nearer and nearer the dear home and 
dearer little mistress. Pokey did not take time to 
go around by the driveway when she reached the 
grounds, but cut across the back field on which 
John's cottage stood. Passing this she slipped 
in through a side gate that opened on the lawn. 

After about an hour's sleep Denise awakened 
much refreshed, and Mrs. Lombard was on 
hand to say a soothing word when needed. 

When she had finished speaking they sat 
silent for a moment or two, and then the silence 
was broken by a commotion downstairs. 




" Yes, you can do it if you want to, and you 
just must, 'cause her ankle is too stiff for her to 
come to you. There ! Now you see you can, 
just as well as not ! Now another ! One more ' 
Another! Now only two more — and — t-h-e-r-e 
you are ! " And then a clatter and a scramble 
over the piazza, and in through the lace curtains 
tore Pokey and Ned side by side, one with a 
cry of " I had to bring him ! I could n't 
wait ! " and the other with as joyous a neigh as 
ever a horse gave voice to. Straight into the 
librar)' they came pell-mell, and straight into 
Denise's arms, to be laughed and cried over; 
for the tears which had not come at the sor- 
row fell like a refreshing summer shower now. 

Mrs. Lombard and Denise had sjirung to 
their feet as the funny pair entered the library, 
and both joined in the shout of welcome. .Xnd 
now Pokey, having done her one wild and 
daring act, curled herself up in a little heaj) in 
the middle of the floor and swayed back and 
forth, crying and laughing by turns as she 
said : 

"Hart found him in the woods, and I made 
him scramble up the piazza steps." 

Need I tell you any more ? Of course all 
was excitement for a time, for Ned was wel- 
comed like a lost son, the entire family gather- 
ing about him as he stood in the middle of the 

library, with Denise hugging him as though she 
would never give over doing so. Every one 
else was either patting him or stroking him, — for 
grandma, Eliza, Mary, and John had rushed up 
to the library to rejoice with the rest, — and all 
were talking at once of Ned's abduction by " that 
bad man" and his rescue by "this blessed boy." 
Hart's head was in a fair way to be turned with 
sheer conceit. After the excitement had sub- 
sided a little, John went tearing off to the village 
to learn the fate of the " bad man " and Sailor, 
and also to telegraph the good news to Mr. 

Finally Ned was taken to the Birds' Nest 
by the children, Denise having speedily recov- 
ered under the stimulating influence of so much 
happiness. Late in the afternoon Sailor was 
brought home by Jolin, after having held his 
victim till the men sent by Hart released him, 
and took him in their wagon to the sheriff's 
oflice, where he was promptly committed to 
the calaboose and held for trial. 

John's testimony was required at the sheriffs 
office, but he was on hand to drive to the sta- 
tion as usual for Mr. Lombard. And that gen- 
tleman soon arrived to join in the happiness 
that reigned in the household — the joyous 
climax of the worst adventure that ever befell 
Denise and Ned Toodles. 




By Joseph H. Adams. 

of an American who has invented one of the 

ni.-\v terririi rxplosixt-s used in modern warfare. 

THEmonthof July suggests the Fourth, and as confronted by a formidable-looking engine of 
that means to the boys fire-crackers and other war, a famous Maxim gun, whose muzzle pro- 
e.\plosives,they may be interested in this account jects toward you in a menacing manner, as if 

inquiring what your business is. 

Stepping along still farther into the hall, you 
are greeted by another and larger gun with a 
still more threatening appearance; and as you 
glance around, on every hand you see groups of 
guns, pistols, projectiles, ammunition, and in- 
struments of war, until you begin to wonder 
whether this is a residence or an arsenal. 

A glance into the other rooms of the house, 
however, dispels all doubt, for, with the excep- 
tion of the forbidding sentries in the hall, the 
furnishings of the house give every evidence 
that the master is not only a peace-loving citi- 
zen, but a home-loving man as well. 

This is the city home of Hudson Maxim. To 
enter this unique home and to be introduced 
to Mr. and Mrs. Maxim, and to hear them 
speak of explosive shells and other deadly 
missiles as if they were commonplace matters 
of housekeeping, is a novel and fascinating ex- 
perience ; and while you feel at first as if every- 
thing around might suddenly " go off," this 
feeling wears away and your confidence is re- 
stored as Mr. Maxim explains the uses to which 
the various compounds are put and their harm- 
lessness under certain conditions. 

Indeed, Mr. Maxim is really as much at home 
among his high explosives as his cook is in her 
kitchen with vegetables and flour and coffee ; 
and the ease and freedom with which he handles 
his fearfully powerful materials is awe-inspiring, 
to say the least, as I confessed to myself when 
in my presence he cut off a thick piece of dyna- 
mite with a common carpenter's saw. 

There are few men in the world who know 
On a quiet residence street in Brooklyn, and as much about e.xplosives and their chemistry as 
in a row of light-stone houses, there is a house of does Mr. Maxim, and in the simplest language 
especial interest. Seen from the street, it does possible and in all modesty he takes pleasure in 
not differ from the other houses alongside it, explaining the results of many years of hard 
but on entering the hallway one is suddenly study and unceasing and costly experiment. 







In the rear of this Brooklyn residence is the nitroglycerin. This maximite has lately been 
inventor's brick laboratory, where he usually adopted by our government as a bursting- 
works and where he explained to me some very charge for projectiles and shells, and it is 
interesting experiments with high explosives, equaled in shattering force by only two other 
gi\in_U practical demonstration <if their power, known substances. 

In spite of its high explosive quality it is a 
\ery safe compound to handle, and is prac- 
tically unaftected by shock, and will not ex- 
plode by being set on fire — even if a mass of it 
is stirred with a white-hot iron. It will burn 
with a bright green flame, and can be ignited 
with a match. 

All this Mr. Maxim demonstrated by lighting 
a piece of smokeless powder and dropping it in 
a dish containing some lumps of ma.ximite. He 
also melted lead and poured it over dry lumps 
of maximite, and, while it burned freely, like 
sulphur or wax, it did not explode. 

In appearance maximite somewhat resembles 
sulphur, being yellow in color and quite hard. It 
is easily melted, in which condition it flows like 
molasses and is poured into steel projectiles. 

On striking and entering a fortification or the 
armor-])late of a vessel, a cap or fuse, charged 
with fulminate of mercury, at the rear end of 


When he lights a fire in the stove, — for he 
needs heat to conduct some of his experiments, 
— he will take a stick of smokeless powder in .i 
pair of long pliers, set it afire with a match, and 
then hold it under the grate. You will expect 
to see the stove blown instantly into a thousand 
fragments, but, instead, your misgiving changes 
to surprise when the powder burns with a bright 
yellow tlame like a pine-knot and does not make 
the slightest bit of smoke. 

It takes but a few seconds for it to be en- 
tirely consumed, and as a result a roaring fire is 
started, so that in a few minutes the stove is hot 
enough for use. 

Mr. Maxim will show you one of his im- 
portant inventions, his powerful shell-exploder, 
known as maximite, which in ex]ilosive force the ])rojectile explodes the maximite, which in 
is about fifty per cent, more efficient than dyna- turn shatters the projectile irito thousands of 
mite, and somewhat more powerful than pure fragments and rends everything in its vicinity. 





The fearfully destructive force of niaximite 
can hardly be realized by any one who has not 
witnessed an explosion of a shell. The effect 
of a shattered shell is shown in Fig. 5. 

Before this was fired it was a 1000-pound 
forged-steel projectile into which seventy jjounds 
of maximite had been poured and allowed to 
solidify. After it had struck and exploded, in a 
sand-crib built for the test, there were more than 
7000 fragments recovered and laid out on some 
boards, as shown in the photograph. There were 
undoubtedly many more fragments, but they 
were so fine that they passed through the sieve 
with the fine sand and were lost. 

Imagine such a shell falling in the midst of 
a fortification or in a city where hundreds of 
people were on the streets ! It would be hard to 
calculate the destruction to life and property, 
but it is safe to say that within a circle of 
hundreds of feet there would not be a living 
thing left. 

Fig. 6 shows some fragments of a steel plate 
five and three quarter inches thick, put back into 
place after a maximite shell had pierced it. The 
illustration also shows some small fragments of 
the shell. These fragments did not make up 
the entire shell, however, as a good part of it 
was literallv blown into bits too small to be 

recovered. The steel plate was erected in front 
of a sand-crib, which the explosion completely 
demolished, and a great hole was blown in the 


earth immediately below the spot where the 
explosion occurred. 

In tills [lit a dead sparrow and a crow with a 
broken wing were lying side by side. These 
birds had been struck by flying fragments of 
the shell and brought down out of the air, illus- 
trating the enormous range covered by the 
flying missiles. 

The numerous ragged fragments as they sped 
through the air, both in going up and coming 





down, produced a weird sound. The length of 
time this lasted told of the vast height to which 
the pieces must have been hurled. .\s one of 
the private soldiers who was present extrava- 
gantly put it, "The fragments seemed to be 
coming down for about half a day." 

Such is the deadly work of the seemingly 
harmless matcri.Tl, hut Mr. Maxim hcnts, burns. 

has penetrated, or become embedded in, the 
object at which it was aimed. 

By very thorough tests at Sandy Hook, the 
United States government testing and proving 
ground, maximite has excelled everything thus 
far discovered as a powerful explosive for pro- 
jectiles. In every detail it met the requirements 
of the government — for it had very high 


melts, hammers, saws, or breaks it with a mal- 
let, as if it were a mere lump ofsulphur or chalk; 
and while it is not prudent to smoke in a " fire- 
works" laboratory, Mr. Maxim actually lighted 
a candle made of maximite at the stove, and 
deliberately lighted a cigar there, calmly blew 
it out, and proceeded with his interesting talk. 
Maximite dift'ers from dynamite, lyddite, nitro- 
glycerin, guncotton, and other highly explo- 
sive compounds in that it is less easily exploded 
and. therefore, much safer to handle and carry 
aboard a war-vessel. 

It is also more deadly in its work, for a shell 
loaded with it does not explode until after it 

Vol.. XXXI. — 102-10^. 


explosive power, and did not lose this force 
by being kept a long time; yet it could be 
safely handled, as it would not explode from 
any shock except that of the cap made espe- 
cially for that purpose. Moreover, the shell 
loaded with maximite could be safely fired from 
big guns at high velocity, and would withstand 
the far greater shock of piercing the heaviest 
armor-plate before exploding. 

Maximite also had these additional advan- 
tages : it could be produced at a low cost; it 
wouUl melt at a low temperature; it could not 
be exploded by being set on fire — indeed, it 
could be melted over an open fire, and so there 




was no danger in the process of filling projec- 
tiles with it. It would not explode fi-om over- 
heating, but would simply boil away hke water 
if heated to a high temperature. Last of all, 

The tests at Sandy Hook were intensely in- 
teresting, and their history in detail would fill a 
large book ; but in this brief description we 
can give little more than a hint of the remark- 
able properties of the compound which Mr. 
Maxim invented. 

A shell was filled with niaximite, but the ful- 
minate cap was left out, and the shell was shot 
at a three-inch Harveyized nickel-steel plate. 
The forward half of the shell penetrated the 
plate, and the force with which it was shot 
flattened the end of the shell, cracked it open, 
and some of the maximite could be seen where 
it was forced through an opening. The shell 
rebounded from the plate about two hundred 
feet, and struck in front of the gun from which 
it was fired. But the maximite, lacking its own 
special fuse, did not explode. 

One of the most important parts of the pro- 
jectile is the detonating fuse or cap — that is, 
the part that explodes first and which in turn 
explodes the charge within the shell. 

Fig. 7 shows a large shell on a stand with 
the screw-plug part-way out, also the detonat- 


it could be poured into the projectile in such 
a way as to form a solid mass that would not 
shift, even on striking armor-plate. 

These requirements were set forth by the 
government, and of all the compounds that have 
been tested at the proving-grounds, maximite 
was the only one that came up to and exceeded 

, ~ ~~"~--^ 



*- _-^ 

------^ ^ 

i*,^ .-. — —-"^ 

FIG 8 


EU < 1 

\ \\\ I 1 . SHOWING THE 


f LUo, 

\ L 1 Lit. 

these specifications. As a result, negotiations 
were opened with Mr. Maxim, and our govern- 
ment became the possessor of the right to manu- 
facture and use this deadly substance. 




ing fuse partly unscrewed from the plug ; Fig. 8 
is a sectional view of a shell with charge, plug. 


and fuse in their relative positions ; and Fig. 9 
shows how Mr. Maxim fills a shell with the 
melted maximite. While it is still soft the plug 
is screwed in, and as the maximite cools and 
expands it holds the {)lug solidly in place, and 
by its own action in cooling, the charge in the 
shell l)ecomes compressed in the projectile. 

Mr. Maxim has invented a controlling device 
for fuses which may be adapted to any t)pe of 
fuse, and which will tend always to explode the 
projectile at the very shade of an instant de- 
sired — at least so far as this is possible as yet. 
For naturally it is a matter of exceedingly nice 
adjustment so to time its action that a fuse will 
explode the shell at exactly the right instant. 
when we remember that it requires but the one- 
thousandth part of a second for a projectile to 
pass through a plate. 

It is necessary to employ a very powerful 
detonator in order to explode maximite after it 
has passed through the plate, and it is only by 
detonation that the shell can be exploded at all. 

The making of these fuses is a delicate and 
dangerous matter, and in many of the experi- 
ments both Mr. and Mrs. Maxim have risked 
their hands, and even their lives, to learn the 
secrets of certain chemical combinations. 

Mr. Maxim has also invented a smokeless 
|)Owder, and at Maxim, a small town near Lake- 
wood in New Jersey, the well-known Maxim- 
Schuppans powder was develojjed. 

It was here that Mr. Maxim met with the 
loss of his left hand, which was blown off; and 
while this hinders his individual work of experi- 
menting, it has not abated his zeal in pursuing 
new theories and plans for new experiments. 

The loss of his hand, the inventor often says, 
was the penalty for discovering maximite. 

Smokeless powder is made in several forms : 
fine like powdered sugar, coarse like gravel, and 
in sticks in sizes from a cpiarter of an inch in di- 
ameter up to the diameter of a curtain-pole for 
large shells that are fired in the largest guns of 
the forts and navy. 

Fig. 1 1 shows a few samples of sticks of 
smokeless powder ; the holes extending through 
tlie pieces are to render them more inflammable 
so that the explosive gases may be formed more 
quickly than if the sticks were solid. They 
somewhat resemble horehound candy in ap- 
pearance and color, and when ignited do not 
go up in a puff of smoke, like black powder as 
shown in Fig. 1 2, but burn longer and with 
a bright yellow flame, as in Fig. 13, free from 
smoke but leaving a peculiar pungent gas in 
the atmosphere. 


The large grains or sticks of powder are pro- 
tected by a coating on the outside which renders 
the burning slower and more uniform for large 



guns, in which a pressure of 10,000 pounds to of liis laborator\-. And my host led the way to 
the square inch is often produced. A large car- the cozy dining-room which is also his literary 


tridge-shell full of this powder gives a terrific 
velocity to a projectile. 

The shell itself is never loaded with powder. 
The powder is placed in the gun to throw the 
projectile, which is in turn shattered by the max- 
imite charge when this charge is exploded by the 
fulminate cap. Thus three diflFerent compounds 
enter into each " business " charge of a gun. 

" Now come down and have some refresh- 
ment before leaving," was the hospitable invita- 
tion of Mr. Maxim after I had finished a tour 

IliifH Millie 


den and study ; and here another surprise 
awaited me, in a Welsh rabbit, cooked in a 
chafing-dish over a lamp filled with — not alco- 
hol, as you might think, but nUroglycerin : 

At first I thought it to be a joke, but Mr. 
Maxim soon dispelled any doubt, for, blowing 
out the flame, he emptied a few drops into a 
teaspoon, proceeded to the rear yard, and ex- 
ploded it with a noise like the report of a 

This was the climax to my day with this 
peaceable wizard of frightful explosives. 


By Henry Johnstone. 


My house upon my back I bear, 
And so, however far I roam, 

By climbing backward up my stair 
In half a minute I 'm at home. 


Two servants listen, two look out, 
Two fetch and carry for their share. 

And two are sturdy knaves and stout. 
Well used their master's weight to bear. 

I travel slow, and never speak ; 

I 've horns — but never tr>' to shove, 
Because my horns are soft and weak, 

Like fingers of an empty glove. 

And may I not be proud and bold, 

With eight such servants, tried and true, 

That never wait until they 're told, 

But know themselves what they 've to do ? 


By Oscar Llewellyn. 

" Little Gnome, where are you going, I pray ? 

What is that bottle you 're carting away?" 
"That, don't you see," said the wise little gnome, 
" Is a thirteen-inch gun for my twenty-inch home. 
I 've a fine stock of iniff-halJs, all ready to shoot, 
And now, with this cannon, I '11 fire a salute." 



By Carolyn Wells. 

Fourth of July, they say, sir, 
Is Independence Day, sir. 
But really I am certain that there must 
be some mistake ; 
For people say, " Be quiet ! " 
And, " I won't have such riot! " 
At every teeny-v^feeny noise that I may 
chance to make. 

Why, when my gun exploded, 
(I thought it was n't loaded). 
My mother said, " You naughty boy, now 
stop that fearful noise ! " 
And then our cannon-crackers 
(And my ! but they were whackers !) 
Made grandma say, "Oh, mercy me! 
you must n't do that, boys ! " 

" You 're much too young to handle 
A bomb or Roman candle," 
They always say when I get near to where 
the fireworks are ; 
And for a little rocket 
I put in Bobby's pocket 
My father just now set me down inside 
the " family jar." 

The caution and the warning 
Begin at early morning : 
It 's " Don't do this ! " and " Don't do that ! " 
and so, unless I may 
Choose my own celebration 
For the birthday of our nation, 
I don't see why I ought to call it 
Independence Day ! 








Just after the completion of tlie Louisiana 
Purchase of 1803, — which is commemorated by 
the World's Fair of this year at St. Louis, — 
the American Congress, urged by President 
Jefferson, authorized an expedition to explore 
the newly acquired territory. President Jeffer- 
son's private secretary, Meriwether Lewis, was 
appointed commander of this expedition, and he 
chose as his associate Ca])tain William Clark, 
an old army friend. 

A hundred years ago this month these in- 
trepid men, with a small party of about thirty 
explorers, were well away on their journey up 
the Missouri River, as far as the mouth of the 

Platte. In May of the following year they had 
their first glimpse of the Rockies, and before 
that year (1805) was ended they had crossed 
the Great Range and pushed on to the Pacific 
Ocean by way of the Columbia River. During 
certain parts of their journey they endured great 
hardships, and for fifteen months they were cut 
off from all communication with the outer world. 
It was one of the most famous of American 
expeditions, and to the pluck and perseverance 
of this little band of explorers we owe the acqui- 
sition, later, of the territory now embraced in 
the three great .States of our northwestern boun- 
dary — Washington, Oregon, and Idaho. 


By Edwin L. Sabin. 

the year 1813 the 
•'ourth of July fell 
on a Sunday ; there- 
fore the United States 
( elebrated on the fol- 
)wing Monday. This 
rountry was then 
right in the thick of 
its second war with 
Cireat Britain, but it 
saw no reason why it should not observe the 
Columbian Jubilee — as the Fourth was styled 
in those days. 

In New York City the favorite place for 
celebrating the Jubilee was the Battery — then, 
as now, a park occupying the southernmost 
point of the town, and very beautiful with its 
grass and elms and maples, and the waters of 
the bav flashing in front. From here the 
people could look down the Upper Bay, lively 
with shipping, toward the Narrows ; but at that 
time, beyond the Narrows, closely watching 
outside the Lower Bay and blockading the 
city, was a British squadron. 

Since early in the year ships had 
been doing this duty, and seriously interfering 
with New York's trade by water. Some 
vessels — in particular the daring privateers- 
men — managed to slip out and in, but traffic 
was being confined mainly to the bays. 

Most annoying of all the British blockading 
force was the -Eagle, one of the smaller vessels 
and a sort of assistant to the huge ship of the 
line, the Poictkrs, seventy-four guns. The 
Eagle was constantly prowling about, on and 
oflf Sandy Hook Light, pouncing right and left 
upon whatever caught her fancy. Did a fish- 
ing-smack essay a cruise? Down swooped the 
Eagle, chased her, fired at her, overhauled her 
in haughty fashion, ignored her skipper, and in 
a high-and-mighty manner stripped her of any- 
thing and everything, from men to potatoes. 
Did drogher or lumber-schooner poke its nose 

above the horizon ? Down swooped the 
Eagle. Whosoever would ])ass Sandy Hook 
Light must reckon with the pesky Eagle. 

Consequently New York was always hearing, 
or reading in the papers, some tale of woe 
caused by the Eagle. 

It was about time that the Eagle's wings 
were clipped, and the Columbian Jubilee was 
a very good day for the operation. 

At Sandy Hook was stationed a flotilla of 
United States gunboats — useless for offense, 
but handy in defense ; of no account as sailors, 
but good fighters at close range. The saucy 
Eagle had exasperated them, too; and their 
commander, Commodore Lewis, was very glad 
to assist in her capture. 

A day or so before Jubilee, at a famous old 
pier known then as Fly Market Slip, a homely 
fishing-smack named the )(?///'<•<• was borrowed 
from its owners and was smuggled down the 
coast a short distance. Here, in a sheltered 
cove, it was manned with forty volunteers ; and 
twice as many would have enlisted for the sake 
of pulling the tail-feathers out of the Eagle. 

Sailing-Master Percival, from the flotilla, was 
in command. 

To a sailor on sea duty of several months 
there is no luxury like fresh meat, and the 
British squadron off New York was growing 
more and more ravenous for things not salty. 
The Ea^le almost preferred bagging a pig 
to a marine. Therefore, as a bait, aboard the 
Yankee were taken a live sheep, and a live calf, 
and some other barn-yard dainties, and stowed 
in the hold — to be afterward placed on deck 
so as to be in plain sight at the right moment. 

With the sheep l>aa-\r\g and the calf maa- 
ing, with ten armed men in the cabin, twenty- 
seven forward in the hold, and three, apparently 
unarmed, with Sailing-Master Percival, all clad 
in common fisherman's garb, on deck, early in 
the morning of Monday, the 5th, the Yankee 
left the cove and stood up along the coast as if 





innocently bound on a fishing cruise to the Besides, word had been passed around that t/iis 
Banks of Newfoundland or Nova Scotia. Jubilee was to be celebrated in a special way. 

At the same 
time the people of 
New York City 

Shortly after 
noon the Yankee, 
with her load vis- 
ible and invisible, 
was ofiE Sandy 
Hook. The posi- 


were collecting on the Battery ; for doubt- tion of the channel made it necessary for her 
less the Columbian Jubilee did not let folks to pass close to the formidable Poidiers, who, 
sleep any later than does our Fourth of July, with only a few of her sails set, was leisurely 




moving out to sea. The warship, having no 
quarrel with an unarmed and disreputable-look- 
ing fishing-smack, permitted her to proceed 
unmolested. The Yankee headed toward the 
Long Island shore, where it was thought the 
Eiigle might be cruising. 

Finally the officious Eagle spied her. 

" Sail in sight, sir. About two points off our 
weather bow, sir," reported little Midshipman 
Price, aboard the Britisher, to Master's Mate 

" Looks like a Yankee smack," murmured 
that officer as he scanned her through his glass. 
He felt his temper rising. " What does the 
rascal mean — trying to set out on a cruise 
when his ^Lajesty says he sha'n't! A pretty 
idea, that! Shake out your jibs, sir!" he or- 
dered to the midshipman. "We'll run him 
aboard and see what he 's got." 

Down slanted the Eagle, to intercept the 
hapless smack, which by this time had trans- 
ferred its live stock to conspicuous positions 
on the deck. 

Only the four fishermen, in old clothes, at 
the wheel or lounging around the deck, were 
to be observed on her. She did not promise 
much. But suddenly the eye of Master's Mate 
Morris glimpsed a calf. 

" Hi ! " he chuckled. " We want that calf — 
eh, Mr. Price ? We '11 send it down to the 
commodore. He 's particularly fond of veal, 
I dare say, and he '11 remember us for it." 

Then he saw a sheep ! 

"What!" he exclaimed. " A sheep ? The 
idea of a beggarly Yankee cod-hauler having 
mutton when his Majesty's officers are living 
on salt horse and pea-soup! Wc '11 take that 
sheep, too ! " 

As they drew nearer to the chase he saw 

" And chickens ! D' ye mark 'em, Mr. 
Price ? In a coop aft, there ! " 

And, at the array, the mouths of Master's 
Mate Morris and young Midshipman Price and 
the crew of the Eagle widened and watered. 

The Eagle was now so near to the smack 
that a hail could be easily heard. 

" Luff, or we '11 run you down ! " called 
Master's Mate Morris, coming close to the rail. 
" Heave to, and be quick about it ! " 

Of course there was nothing for the smack 
to do but obey. Her canvas fluttered in the 
breeze and her headway was checked. The 
men on her deck stared gawkily across at the 
English officers and the English marines, spick 
and span in their brilliant naval uniforms. 

" Put down your helm, and report to the 
flagship, in the offing yonder," commanded 
Master's Mate Morris, gruffly. " Tell him I 
send the live stock, with my compliments." 

" .\y, ay, sir," answered the helmsman ; 
hut, as if in stupidity, he put his helm up instead 
of down, and the bows of the Yankee swung in 
toward the Eagle, not five yards distant, and 
scraped against her side. 

"What 's the matter with — " began Master's 
Mate Morris, furiously. 

" Lawrence!" shouted Sailing-Master Perci- 
\-al, leveling a musket. 

" Lawrence," the name of the gallant captain 
of the frigate Chesapeake captured by the Brit- 
isher Shannon a month previous, was the signal. 

" Lawrence ! " shouted back all his men, 
swarming from hatch and companionway. 

In an instant a volley of musketry swept the 
Eagle, driving her people headlong below for 
shelter, and to care for four brave fellows who 
were badly wounded. These included Henry 
Morris, the commander, and Midshipman 
Price. So surprised and overwhelmed were 
they that they did not fire a shot. 

The muskets were silent again. Upon see- 
ing nobody left to resist on the Eagle's deck, 
Sailing-Master Percival had ordered his fol- 
lowers to cease firing. Presently a British 
marine cautiously emerged and shouted that 
they would surrender the vessel. 

By this time the Poictiers, seeing what had 
happened, fired a few ineffectual shots. Deem- 
ing it wise, however, not to approach too near 
the New York defending flotilla, she did not 
venture to give chase. 

The Yankee reported, with her prize, to 
Commodore Lewis, at Sandy Hook. Here, 
on the Hook, " with military honors and in 
a most respectful manner " (as say the papers 
of the day), were buried Master's Mate Morris 
and a marine. 

Then through the Lower Bay, into the Nar- 
rows, and through the Upper Bay for New 



York, proudly sailed the Yankee^ — never fish- 
ing-smack was prouder, — accompanied by the 
plucky Eagle. 

How the people gathered on the Battery 
cheered and cheered ! Hurrah and three times 
three for the Yankee and her volunteers ! 

The Yankee's men were made much of by 
the populace. Sailing-Master Percival was 
officially thanked by the Navy Department at 
Washington ; but poor little Midshipman Price 
died, and, "with every testimonial of respect," 
was laid to rest in Trinitv churchvard. 


See lazy Willie Willow 
Asleep upon his pillow ! 
He does not know 
The sun is high, 
A-shining bright and fair; 
Nor hear his little 
Frisky skye 
A-barking here and there ; 
Nor see the golden 
Wheat and rye 
A-nodding in the air; 
Nor heed his mother's 
Cheery cry 
A-calling up the stair: 

Fie ! lazy Willie Willow, 
To hug your downy pillow, 
^Vhen lassies sweep 
And sew and bake, 
A-singing as they go ; 
When laddies plant 
And hoe and rake, 
A-whistling down the row ; 
When all the world 
Is wide awake, 
A-rushing to and fro. 
And not a soul 

His ease doth take 
Afore the sun is low ! 

Come, little Willie Willow, 
Jump up and leave your pillow ! " 

• Come, little Willie Willow, 
Jump up and leave your pillow ! " 
Elizabeth Olmis. 


{Begun ill the Xoveiiifier Huin/ier.) 

Bv 1!. L. Farjeun. 

Chapter XXH'. 

how the celebrities were entertained 
ix the evknino. 

" Bv St. Jude!" exclaimed Henry VIII, 
as he entered the banqueting-hall with Queen 
Elizabeth on his arm. " This Marybud Lodge 
of thine, fair Lucy, is a very garden of flow- 
ers, and thou and thy sister the sweetest of 
them all. In good sooth, thou hast but to 
smile upon a bud, and it bursts into bloom. 
And this table, spread for our entertainment — 
ha, ha! and this menu, it likes us well." 

In truth, a prettier dinner-table was never 
seen, with its glittering glass and china, its snow- 
white cloths and shining silver, and its low 
banks of flowers embedded in moss. The doors 
and walls were festooned, and so skilful was the 
arrangement that the flowers .seemed to be 
growing where they were set. The celebrities 
expressed their admiration in various ways, and 
Queen Elizabeth murmured: 

" ' .Away before me to sweet beds of flowers, 

Love-thoughts lie rich when c.nnopied with bowers.' 

Thou hast done well, child." 

" I am glad you are pleased," said Lucy, 
" but you must give the praise to Lydia." 
" No, no," said Lydia. " To Lucy." 
"'T is a sweet contention," said Queen Eliza- 
beth, smiling upon the girls, but the smile died 
away in a frown. " We had a sister who bar 
bored not toward us sentiments so loving. 
But this is not the time for gloomy thought. 
The hour is 

' Full of joy and mirth. 
Joy, gentle friends! Joy and fresh days of love 
Accompany your hearts ! ' " 

" What beautiful things you say, dear queen! " 
said Lucy. 

" For the which, child, thank that Swan of 
Avon who left to his dear land a heritage of di- 
vinestsong. What is here, forsooth? A posy?" 

She placed it at her breast, and her example 
was followed by all the guests, by the side of 
whose napkins lay delicate posies of fern and 

The Headsman did not sit at the table. He 
was doing duty outside, pacing the ground be- 
tween the two entrances to the Lodge, and had 
been ]jromised a table to himself in another 
apartment later in the evening. 

.\s for the dinner, the Marchioness of Barnet 
had done wonders. In consultation with 
Mine. Tussaud she had provided an aston- 
ishing number of choice dishes ; and the menu 
prepared tor the occasion deserves to be trea- 
sured as a memento. If there are any gram- 
matical errors or wrong spelling in it Miss 
Pennyback is responsible for them, for to her 
was intrusted the task of writing them out in 
a fair, round hand. Here it is : 


Potage a la Bonne Reine Bess. 
Pur^e a la Mme. Sainte .Amaranthe. 

Saumon a la Reine Mary des Ecossais. Sauce Tar- 
tare a la Cluy Fawkcs. 
Truite i la .Mme. Tussaud. 
I'ilets de Sole i la Charles II. 

Riz de Veau a la Ilouqua. 
Chaufioid de Cotelettes de Mouton a la Richaul III. 

Poulardes a la Richard Coeur de Lion. 
Quartier d'.Agneau a la Roi gai Henry VIII. 
I'omnies de lerre a la JL .Scarlett. 

Canetons a la Tom de la Pouce. 
Pinlades a la M. Bower. 
Salade i I'OIiver Cromwell. 

.Asperges a la Loushkin. 
C^lestines d'.Abricots a la Ch^re Petite Lucy. 
Demoiselles d'Honneur i la Bell^ Lydia. 
Cafe noir a I'Executioner. 




This is as far as Miss Pennyback got; she did 
not venture upon the details of an elaborate des- 
sert, leaving these and certain other delicacies as 
surprises for the guests. The wines were left to 
speak for themselves, 
which they were well 
able to do. 

Sir Rowley, Flip of 
the Odd, and the maids, 
with shining faces and 
in their Sunday clothes, 
waited at table, and 
Henry VIII was so 
pleased with the menu 
that he remarked, with 
a joyous glance at 
Queen Elizabeth : 

" By our Lady, we 
have never been more 
bountifully served ! " 

Belinda was leaving 
the room with her arms 
full when the remark 
was made, and there 
came to the ears of the 
guests a sudden crash 
of crockery, which 
caused Lucy to ex- 
claim, "Oh, dear!" but 
her papa, like the good 
host he was, took no 
notice of it. Mirth 
and joy prevailed in 
the hearts of all except 
Richard III, whose 
nature was too sinister 
to join in the hilarity, 
and Lorimer Grim- 
weed, who, despite that 
he had partaken of 
every course, was not 
quite easy in his mind 
respecting Mme. Tus- 
saud. One toast only 

was proposed. Queen Elizabeth rapped upon 
the table, and all eyes were turned upon her. 
She raised her glass. 

" To our dear Lucy and Lydia, sweet health 
and fair desires." 

The enthusiasm was immense. Lucy's face 

was rosy-red, and it grew rosier-redder when 
she was called upon to respond to the toast. 
But to her great relief, Lydia at that moment 
rose to her feet, and bowing gracefully to the 


assembled company, looked around the table 
with a beaming smile, waited until the cheering 
had ceased, and then simply said : 

" Thank you ! " 

.\11 the glasses on the table rang out in mu- 
sical applause, and Lucy's papa, with tears of 



joy shining in his eyes, said under his breath, 
" Bless the dear girl ! Bless both my dear girls 1 " 

" Grimes ! what a dinner 1 've had ! " thought 
Lorimer Grimweed. "It must have cost old 
Scarlett a little fortune." 

Mme. Tussaud gave the signal to rise from 
the table. 

" We will go all together to the drawing-room," 
she said, " where Harry Rower has a little en- 
tertainment for us." 

They did not dare to dispute the old lady's 
commantls, so they one and all trooped into the 
pretty drawing-room, wondering on the way 
what kind of amusement Harry Bower had in 
store for them. The white sheet he had hung 
at one end of the room stimulated their curios- 
ity as they seated themselves in the chairs 
which had been placed for them and began to 
chatter as ordinary people do in a theater be- 
fore the performances begin. Their chatter 
ceased when the room was darkened, and 
Lydia, who had seated herself at the piano, 
began to play soft music. Then there flasiied 
before the astonished eyes of the celebrities the 
pictures of a magic lantern. Exclamations of 
wonder and delight escaped their lips. 

"By our Lady!" exclaimed Henry VIII. 
•• Harry of the Bower is a magician." 

Great was the enthusiasm of Queen Eliza- 
beth when upon the curtain there suddenly 
appeared the figure of Shakspere, which she 
vowed was a faithful presentment of her dear 
poet, " in his habit as he hved " ; and when this 
was followed by a picture of Hermione garbed 
as a statue, she murmured : 

"'Oh, thus she stood, 
Even with such life of majesty (warm life, 
As now it coldly stands), when first I woo'd her ! ' " 

Still greater was her enthusiasm when dainty 
.\riel appeared, and Lydia sang, " Where the 
bee sucks, there suck I." 

" 'T is the old time come o'er again," mur- 
mured the fond queen.* 

Harry Bower had provided a splendid col- 
lection of slides, and he had selected these es- 
pecially for Queen Bess. Artful young man ! 

* Note for scholarly young readers (others may skip 
"The Winter's Tale" and "The Tempest " will settle 
plays — for surely in matters of importance occurring dur 

With the majority of the company the most 
popular were the dissolving views, winter melt- 
ing into spring, spring into summer, summer 
into autumn, autumn into winter with the snow 
falling, and the moving pictures, conjurers 
throwing balls, girls skipping, the flower in the 
flower-pot changing to a Turk's head, and the 
clown jumping through a hoop. Great stamp- 
ing of feet, clapping of hands, and amazed ex- 
clamations of delight greeted each fresh tableau. 
Harry Bower wound up his entertainment 
with the pictures which described the death 
and burial of poor Cock Robin, and to hear 
the celebrities joining in the chorus to each 
verse was something to be remembered : 

" .Ml the birds in the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing 
When they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin." 

It was most affecting; and, indeed, several of 
the celebrities wore exjjressions of grief. 

When the last chorus was sung and Cock 
Robin comfortably buried, the lights were 
turned up and they had games — "London 
Bridge is Falling Down," " Nuts in May," 
"Hunt the Slipper," "Musical Chairs," and 
others with which they were highly diverted. 
Not the least popular were the kissing games, 
in which Henry VIII came out in great force. 

" Oh, dear," thought Lucy, when he caught 
her in his arms, " I 've been kissed by a king ! 
But how rough they are ! " 

Then followed songs. Queen Elizabeth sang 
a love ditty, Henry VIII a hunting song, and 
Tom Thumb stood on a chair and gave them 
" Yankee Doodle." Of course Lucy and Lydia 
were called upon, and they sang very sweetly. 
Lydia's song was quite new, and this is how it 
ran : 

"Sweet Nature, good-morrow; 
(}ood-morro\v, fair dan^e ! 
The birds are awak'ning 
And praising thy name, 
T he cast is afl.iine. 

"The green earth lies smiling. 
Aroused from repose, 
llow gentle, how coaxing 
The morning wind bU>ws ! 
'T is courtnig the rose. 

it). Her Majesty's allusions to and quot.alions from 
the dispute as to the dates of the production of these 
ing her reign Queen Elizabeth is a final authority. 




" Young life is awakened, 
And ceases to dream. 
See how the light dances 
On yon silver stream, 
With sunshine agleam. 

" Oh, hfe, of thy gladness 
And joy I will borrow ! 
Laugh, laugh, all ye wood- 
And chase away sorrow. 
Sweet Nature, good-mor- 
row ! " 

Chapter XXV. 


The clock struck 
ten, and Lorimer Grim- 
weed for the last hour 
had been shifting un- 
easily in his chair. All 
this nonsense of singing 
and games had greatly 
annoyed him. 

" Lucy dear," said 
Mme. Tussaud, " it is 
time for you and Lydia 
and your papa to get 
to bed." 

" But wliat will yoK 
do ?" asked Lucy. " It 
must be very uncom- 
fortable sleeping in 
those horrid school- 
rooms. Of course we 
have n't beds enough 
for all of you, but you 
and the ladies can sleep 
with Lydia and me, and 
we have got the spare 
room ready." 

■' We shall not need 
it, Lucy. Do as I 
tell you, and leave the 
rest to me. Do you 
all lock your doors when you retire ? " 

" No," answered Lucy, wondering at the 

" Very good. Get you to bed." 

Lucy did not hesitate. " Papa dear," she 

said, " you are so sleepy that you can hardly 
keep your eyes open. We are all going to bed." 

" But our friends here — " he stammered. 

" Will take care of themselves," said Mme. 
Tussaud. " We can do that, I think. We were 
not born yesterday." 

There was no disputing that. Ah, how many 


thousands upon thousands of yesterdays had 
passed away since they first opened their eyes 
upon the world ! 

" Such a pleasant evening ! " said Mme. Tus- 
saud, as she wished her host good night. 



And, " Such a pleasant evening! " murmured 
the celebrities, as they did the same. " Thank 
you so much ! " 

" Come along, papa," said Lucy, handing him 
a chamber candlestick. 

" Before you are twenty-four hours older," 
whispered Mme. Tussaud to him, "you shall 
have the new lease of Marybud Lodge, duly 
signed and sealed." 

Lucy looked around upon the celebrities. 
"Oh, what a wonderful day!" she thought. 
" What a wonderful, wonderful day ! " 

Modestly and grace- 
fully she and Lydia bade 
good night to tiieir 

"Good night, fair Lyd- 
ia," said Queen Eliza- 
beth. " ' Thy love ne'er 
alter till thy sweet life 
end.' . Good night, dear 
Lucy. 'Sleep dwell upon 
thine eyes, peace in thy 
breast.' Dost truly love 
me, child ? " 

" Truly, truly ! With 

Elizabeth stooped and 
touched Lucy's cheek 
with her lips. The sweet- 
est look of loving thanks 
shone in Lucy's eyes as 
she curtsied to the great 

Mme. Tussaud ac- 
companied the sisters 
out into the passage. 

" Shall we see you early to-morrow morning, 
dear Mme. Tussaud?" asked Lucy. 

" No one knows what to-morrow will bring 
forth," answered the old lady. " Should I not 
be here, you will know where to find me. Well, 
upon my word, here is Harry Bower ! Now, 
pray tell me, what does he want ? A good-by 
at the door ? " 

With a roguish smile she turned her back 
upon the lovers. 

It was rather singular, but certainly appro- 
priate, that Queen Elizabeth's voice should be 
heard from within the room, saying : 
Vol. XXXI.— 104. 

" ' Good night, good night ! Parting is such sweet sorrow 
That I could say good night till it be morrow.' " 

" There, there,"said Mme. Tussaud, confront- 
ing the blushing Lydia and the happy young 



man, " do you hear what her Majesty is saying ? 
Away with you, Harry Bower." She drove him 
gently back into the room, and, tenderly em- 
bracing the girls, promised that their horror, 
Lorimer Grimweed, should not trouble them 
much longer. 

" When Lydia and Harry are married," she 
said, " I should like to be at the wedding, but I 
fear it will be impossible. Do not forget me, 

" Do you think we could if we tried ? " they 
said, throwing their arms round her neck. " And 
do you think we are going to Xry ? " 




She watched them till they were out of sight. 
They blew kisses to her as they went. 

Chapter XXVI. 




It was while the good nights were being ex- 
changed that Miss Pennyback adopted a bold 
course of action. She had been greatly excited 
by the remarkable incidents of this remarkable 
day, and so intense was her curiosity and her 
desire to witness what else might transpire that 
she squeezed herself into the smallest possible 
space, and kept in the background, hoping 
thereby to escape the eye of Mme. Tussaud ; 
and taking advantage of afavorable opportunity, 
she slyly retreated behind a conveniently placed 
screen, where she remained unseen and, as she 
believed, unnoticed. But it was not alone her 
curiosity to witness the further proceedings of 
the celebrities that induced her to take this 
step. There was another reason, which she 
deemed of the greatest possible consequence, 
and which had thrown her into a state of delight- 
ful agitation. Earlier in the evening Lorimer 
Grimweed, when he and she thought no one 
was observing them, whispered into her ear the 
following soul-stirring words : 

" I should like to speak to you privately be- 
fore I leave Marybud Lodge to-night. I have 
something of the utmost importance to say to 

Now what did this mysteriously confidential 
remark imply ? This gallant young man — 
she thought of him as a young man, though he 
was nearer fifty than forty — had something of 
the utmost importance to say to her! And he 
had not made the remark aloud in an offhand 
manner, but had whispered it, actually whispered 
it, mind you, with his lips so close, oh, so 
very close to her ear ! What could this imply ? 
Was it possible that she had supplanted Miss 
Lydia in his affections ? Was it possible that he 
intended that she should be the future Mrs. 
Grimweed instead of Miss Lydia ? As she 
crouched (in rather an uncomfortable attitude, 
but what did that matter ?) behind the screen 
she dwelt with rapture upon the delightful pros- 

pect. " Be still, my fluttering heart ! " she whis- 
pered to herself "Oh, my Lorimer — my 
noble, peerless Lorimer ! " 

But nothing escaped the watchful eye of 
Mme. Tussaud. She had seen Lorimer Grim- 
weed whisper into Miss Pennyback's ear, she 
had seen that lady's sly retreat to a place of 
concealment. Mme. Tussaud was quite con- 
tent ; she even smiled. The real business of 
her visit and that of her celebrities had yet to 
be accomplished. Lydia must be released from 
the odious attentions of Lorimer Grimweed, 
and the new lease of Marybud Lodge must be 
signed; and in order to achieve these victories 
it was her intention to make Lorimer Grimweed 
sensible of the consequences if he dared to defy 
her. She had no doubt of her success, for who 
could resist the power of her magic cane ? 

When, therefore, she returned to the room 
she was pleased to observe that Miss Penny- 
back was still behind the screen, and she imme- 
diately prepared for action. Rapping smartly 
upon the table to stop the chattering of her 
celebrities, she thus addressed them : 

'•■ My celebrities, in the pleasures and enjoy- 
ments of the day we have said nothing of the 
task to perform which we journeyed to this de- 
lightful retreat where our dear Lucy and Lydia 
reside with their papa. Before we started I 
informed you that we were going into the coun- 
try upon an affair of chivalry. We came here 
to rescue a fair damsel in distress, a mission 
which the chivalrous heart of England has ever 
gladly undertaken. You have not, I hope, for- 
gotten my words." 

" Nothing that falls from thy lips, Mme. la 
Tussaud," replied Henry VIII, with kingly 
dignity, " is likely to be forgotten by the Maj- 
esty of England. By the holy rood, what 
we came hither to perform, that we will per- 
form. Our knightly word was given. Who 
breaketh his knightly word is false to his order, 
and shall himself be broken and dishonored. 
When the great King Alfred invested William 
of Malmesbury with a purple garment set with 
gems, and a Saxon sword with a golden sheath, 
it was no idle ceremony he performed. He 
bade his grandson remember that knighthood 
and chivalry were one, and that he must never 
be deaf to the plaint of a demoiselle." 



"Thus spoke Segur, our garter king of must have no interlopers. Do you all agree 

arms," said Queen Elizabeth. " In the blood of with me, celebrities ? " 

knightly men run fealty, modesty, courtesy, " We all agree," they answered, as with one 

self-denial, and valor. We wait to hear what voice, 

further thou hast to say, madame." "No eavesdroppers or spies," said Mme. 

" An if any here oppose thee we will deal Tussaud. 

with him," said Henry VIII. "Eavesdroppers and spies!" roared Henry 



" Our royal cousins speak our thoughts," said 
Richard Cteur de Lion. " We are of one 

He looked around, and all the celebrities 
nodded their heads and said : " We are of one 

"'T is well," said Henry VIII. "Proceed, 
Mme. la Tussaud." 

" What is all the fuss about ? " thought Lori- 
mer Grimweed. " What do they mean by their 
damsel in distress ? " 

And Miss Pennyback, hidden behind the 
screen, inwardly congratulated herself upon her 
cleverness, and eagerly awaited what was to 

" We trust, madame," said Richard Coeur de 
Lion, " that the fair damsel you refer to is not 
that sweet child, Mile. Lucy." 

Mme. Tussaud did not reply, but held uj; her 

"Pardon, Richard, a moment," she said. "As- 
sembled here as we are in solemn council, we 

VIII. '■ An we catch any we will make short 
work of them." 

Guy Fawkes rubbed his hands; Richard Ill's 
eyes gleamed ; the Headsman raised his ax. 

" Restrain yourselves, my celebrities," said 
Mme. Tussaud. "Our only desire is that jus- 
tice shall be done." 

As before they answered, "Justice shall be 

Then Mme. Tussaud, in a loud voice, said: 

" Miss Pennyback, come forth." 

The screen trembled, and all their eyes were 
turned toward it, none with greater eagerness 
than those of Richard III and the Headsman. 

" Do not give me occasion to repeat the 
lesson I gave you this morning," said Mme. 
Tussaud, sternly. " It is n't a bit of use hiding 
behind that screen. Lucinda Pennyback, come 

With tottering steps, and with a face into 
which she vainly strove to throw a brave ex- 
pression, Miss Pennyback presented herself. 



"Ha, ha!" cried Richard III. "A spy 
apon our royal council ! We pronounce sen- 
tence ! Executioner, to thy work ! " 

" Mr. Grimweed — Lorimer — protect me ! " 
screamed Miss Pennyback, running toward 
him. At the same moment, the Headsman 
stepped nimbly forward, and with a sweep of 
his ax was about to strike when Mme. Tussaud 
touched both him and Richard HI with her 
magic wand, and they became transfixed. Lori- 
mer Grimweed, who showed no disposition to 
protect Miss Pennyback, who by this time had 
managed to get between him and the wall, 
gazed at them in fear and amazement. Their 
glaring eyes and motionless attitude filled him 
with terror, and he had what is called " the 
creeps " all over him. 

" We can do without violence," said Mme. 
Tussaud. " As you perceive, Mr. Grimweed, 
we have at our command other means as effec- 
tual. I hold a power which none dare brave, 
and neither noble nor commoner shall defy my 
commands with impunity." 

" Might I suggest the torture-chamber, 
madame ? " said Guy Fawkes. " I have had 
some experience." 

" No, nor that. I can manage the lady 
alone. Miss Pennyback, you heard me speak 
of spies and interlopers. In the business 
we have to do your presence is not needed. 
Lucinda Pennyback, go to bed ! " 

But Miss Pennyback, relieved from the terror 
inspired by the sentence pronounced by Richard 
III, and by Mme. Tussaud's statement that she 
would have no violence, and not having ob- 
served Lorimer Grimweed's disregard of her 
appeal for protection or his own frightened as- 
pect, mustered sufficient courage to say in fal- 
tering accents : 

" I am not accustomed to be ordered to bed, 

" Whether you are or not, you will obey. 
You will not ? Very good." 

Once again the magic cane was used, and 
Miss Pennyback, with arms outstretched, was 
fixed and motionless. 

" Oh, grimes ! " groaned Lorimer Grimweed. 
" This is awful ! This is something awful ! " 

" You made the remark to me to-day, Mr. 
Grimweed," said Mme. Tussaud, " that seeing 's 
believing. Speak to her, and satisfy yourself 
that she has no more sense or feehng in her 
than a block of wood." 

" I 'd r-r-rather n-n-not, if you w-w-would 
n't m-m-mind," he murmured, with chattering 

" Oh, I don't mind. It is for those who defy 
me to mind. But I will give her one more 
chance." And with another touch of the magic 
cane Miss Pennyback was restored to conscious- 

" Where am I ? " she exclaimed in a faint 

" Where you ought not to be, where you have 
no business to be," replied Mme. Tussaud. 
" Now, listen to my orders. You will retire to 
your sleeping-apartment, lock your chamber 
door, and get to bed. If you stir from it until 
eight o'clock to-morrow morning, I will petrify 
you for an indefinite period of time, and then 
goodness knows what will become of you, for 
no one but myself can bring you back to life. 
Possibly the authorities, discovering you in 
that state, will set you in a glass case and put 
you in the British Museum. Take your 

One last feeble appeal did Miss Pennyback 
make to Lorimer Grimweed : " Mr. Grim- 
weed ! " But seeing that the magic cane was 
stretched toward her, she shrieked, " I will 
obey — I will obey ! " 

" Make your obeisance, and go," said 
Mme. Tussaud. 

Shaking like an ill-set jelly. Miss Pennyback 
bent low to the celebrities, and tottered from 
the room. 

" If you will excuse me," said Lorimer Grim- 
weed, in a cringing tone, " I will also retire. 
It is really time for me to get home." 

" You will remain," said Mme. Tussaud. 
" Our business is now with you." 

" Oh, but really, now," he protested, but col- 
lapsed when Henry VIII roared: 

" Silence, varlet, or we will make short work 
of thee! Mme. la Tussaud, at your pleasure 
you will proceed with the indictment." 

( To be concluded. ) 

By Ada Stewart Shelton. 

With a fizz ! and a boom ! and a bang ! 

With a bang ! and a boom ! and a fizz ! 
Oh, this is the song the fire-cracker sang, 

With the boom ! and the bang ! and the fizz ! 

" From the farthest of far-away lands. 

From the land of the rice and bamboo, 
By the cunning Chinee with his dexterous hands 
We are molded and fashioned for you. 

"Would it seem like the Fourth of July 
Without our explosion and noise ? 
Oh, the men on parade march quiedy by, 
But the crackers belong to the boys. 

" There 's no need for the sun to arouse 
All the world on this Fourth of July ; 
For we 're up and we 're off, though the grown folk may drowse ; 
We awake the whole land when we try." 

With a fizz ! and a boom ! and a bang ! 

To the very last sizzle and sigh. 
Oh, these are the words that the fire-cracker sang : 
" Hurrah for the Fourth of July ! " 



By Fred Lockley, JR- 

HEN Lloyd's father 
told him that he 
had sold the farm, 
and that they were 
going to spend the 
summer camping 
out, Lloyd was 
very much de- 
lighted. His fa- 
ther and two other 
men had formed a partnership and were going to 
spend the summer in mining. They bought their 
provisions and mining outfit, and loading them 
in two wagons, they started. Lloyd's father and 
mother, with Lloyd and the provisions, were in 
one wagon ; in the other were the two partners, 
with the picks, shovels, gold-pans, and the lum- 
ber for sluice-boxes and rockers. 

When, after several days' traveling, they ar- 
rived at the place where they intended to mine, 
the men cut down some trees, and in the course 
of a week built a log cabin. They had planned 
to work a " placer claim." It had been mined 
long ago, when gold was first discovered in Cali- 
fornia, but not very thoroughly. Lloyd liked to 
watch the men shovel the dirt into the sluice- 
boxes and see the swift muddy water wash the 
rocks and coarse gravel out at the other end. 
They found the "dirt" was not very rich, and 
some days when they made a " clean-up " they 
would find a very small quantity of gold-dust in 
their riffles, less than half an ounce for a whole 
day's run. 

Lloyd soon grew tired of watching the men 
work : he wished to do some mining all by him- 
self; so his father, one evening after his own 
work, made him a little rocker out of the thin light 
boards of a dry-goods box, and every day Lloyd 
would play he was a miner. Finally he carried 
his rocker up the stream nearly a quarter of a 
mile above where his father was working. 

One of the men had called to him, "Hello, 
rocker, where are you going with that boy?" 

Lloyd looked back and said, " We 're going 
up the creek to find a claim of our own." 

" Well, go ahead, and good luck to you ! " 
they called after him. 

Lloyd did not find much " color " along the 
creek, so he carried his rocker up a dry gulch 
that led into that stream. 

Next day Lloyd dug till his hands were 
blistered and his back ached. He had been 
digging a hole where the ground was wet and 
soggy, so that he could get water to rock with. 
When he went back next morning he found that 
the hole was nearly full of muddy water that 
had seeped in from the spring. There was 
enough water to run the rocker for some time. 

In one place at the lowest part of the gulch, 
near where his rocker was set, a rock cropped 
out a few inches. He did not know it at the 
time, but he had gone to the best place pos- 
sible. A few inches below the surface he struck 
bed-rock. It was quite irregular. He took his 
shovel and scraped the rock, piling the gravel 
beside his rocker. He threw a shovelful of dirt 
into the hopper, dipped up some water, and 
started to rock. When the dirt and gravel had 
washed through the hopper, he lifted it ofi" to 
throw away the coarser gravel and rocks that 
would not pass through the holes in the sheet- 
iron bottom of the hopper. As he did so he 
noticed a pretty rock he had thrown out. It was 
white, with yellow streaks in it. He found sev- 
eral more pieces, and put them in his pocket to 
ask his father what they were. He did not know 
that he had found some very rich gold quartz, but 
when he lifted up the hopper and saw a line of 
yellow along both of the riffles on the upper 
apron, he was enough of a miner to know that 
he had found rich pay dirt. The gold-dust was 
coarse, some of it being as large as grains of 
rice. He went to the camp and got a gold- 
pan so that he could clean up the rocker. 

That night, when the men came to supper, 
Lloyd's mother said to her husband : 



" Well, how did you do to-day ? Did you 
have a good clean-up ? " 

Lloyd's father sighed and said : " No, little 
woman ; I am sorry to say that our pay dirt 
is running out. I am afraid we made a mistake 
in not sticking to the farm. 

" Well, Lloyd, how did your clean-up turn 
out ? " his father asked. 

Lloyd brought out the gold-pan and the 
pretty rocks, and handed them to his father. 
When the men caught sight of the coarse gold 
dust and nuggets in the pan, and the pieces of 
rich gold quartz, you should have heard them 

" Where did you find that ? " they excitedly 
asked. " Come and show us!" And without 
waiting for supper they started for the place. 
Lloyd could hardly keep up with them, they 
walked so fast. 

When they got to his rocker Lloyd showed 
them where he had shoveled up his dirt. Tak- 
ing his pick, his father struck the rock that 
cropped up in the bottom of the gulch. He 
picked up a fragment that was broken off and 
looked at it. It was quartz heavily veinetl with 

gold. He handed it to his partners, and caught 
Lloyd up, tossed him in the air, and said : 

" Our fortune is made ! You 've found the 
ledge from which all the placer gold on the 
creek has come." 

The men broke off several pieces of quartz 
and then covered up the outcropping ledge. 

It was pretty late before any one went to sleep 
in camp that night. Ne.xt day one of the men 
drove over to the nearest town with a wagon, 
to buy picks and shovels, fuse and blasting pow- 
der. They called the mine " Lloyd's Luck," 
though his papa said it ought to be called 
" Lloyd's Pluck," because he had worked so 
hard. Several mining experts for big compa- 
nies had assays made, and it proved a very val- 
uable claim. Indeed, so valuable was it that in 
the course of a month Lloyd's father, who had 
all along felt that the life of a mining camp was 
too rough for his wife, sold out his share to his 
two partners, and, with Lloyd and his mother, 
returned to their farm, which they were now 
able to keep up as it never had been before, 
and to send Lloyd to college as soon as he be- 
came old enough to enter. 




By J. M. Gleeson. 

One of the treasures and I think the greatest 
pet in the National Zoo in Washington, D. C, 
is the beautiful harpy eagle. So far as I know, 
this is the only one in a zoological collection, 
and I doubt if a finer specimen could be found 
in his native jungles in Central and South 

For good behavior generally, and dignity of 
deportment, he is the model captive bird ; nor 
is this merely the result of the taming influence 
of long captivity, for he has always been so, 
and you can see in his face that he could not 
vkfell be otherwise. I know of no other beast or 
bird that can look at one with a more keen, in- 
telligent, and searching expression ; and he has 
never been known to make the wild, futile 
dashes against the bars of his prison that is 
characteristic of other eagles. 

I must mention right here that, for reasons 
interesting only to scientists, he is really not 
accepted as a true eagle, as he possesses some 
of the attributes of the buzzard family; but to 
all appearances he is royal clean through, and 
when he draws himself up and raises his crown- 
like crest, he looks it completely. 

Visitors sometimes make many strange mis- 
takes when reading the signs attached to the 
cages. The polar bear is read and accepted as 
" parlor bear," and the harpy eagle as frequently 
is called the "happy eagle"; and I fancy that he 
is as happy as a bird can be. The interest he 
displays in everything about him is wonderful. 
Once I was painting a life-sized portrait of 
him, and when it was nearly completed I 
chanced to place it against the opposite wall in 
such a position that he could see it ; this was 
purely accidental on my part, for I had never 
seen an animal notice in any way a drawing or 
painting. He noticed it at once, and fixed on 
it such a look of intelligent wonder and in- 
quiry that I was filled with amazement. He 
thrust his head forward, then tilted it to one 
side, then to the other, exactly in the manner 

of people in looking at a picture ; finally he 
jumped down from his perch and hopped over 
to the front of the cage to get a nearer look. 

He was known to the Aztecs by the name of 
" winged wolf," and it is said that they used him 
for hunting purposes, as the falcon is used in 
Europe ; and I can well believe it, for his beauty, 
intelligence, and high courage eminently fit him 
to be the servant and companion of man. He 
does not hesitate to attack game three times 
his size and weight ; peccaries, monkeys, young 
deer, badgers, almost anything that moves in his 
native jungles, is his legitimate prey. His 
strength must be very great. No other bird 
possesses such powerful legs and feet. In my 
drawing I purposely selected a position rarely 
taken by him, in which they are fully ex- 

In size he equals any of our eagles. The wings 
are long and powerful; the tail is long and rather 
square ; the head looks large on account of the 
crest and ruff which surround the face; the beak 
is very heavy and hooked, of a bluish color 
tipped with black ; the eyes are deep-set and of 
a dark hazel color, the pupil, which is rather 
small, being black. The head, face, and upper 
part of neck are a rich gray. About the lower 
part of the neck and running into the breast- 
feathers is a broad collar of grayish black, which 
is the color of the back wings and upper sur- 
face of the tail. Many of the wing-feathers are 
edged with a thin line of white, giving a beau- 
tiful scale-armor effect. The breast-feathers 
are snowy white, one feather laid over another 
in a soft, fluffy manner. The upper parts of the 
legs are covered with soft gray feathers marked 
with thin semicircles of black; the legs and feet 
are lemon yellow ; and the huge, horn-like claws 
are black ; the under surface of the tail is almost 
white, broken by broad bars of black. 

In a free state his cry is said to be loud and 
harsh, but in captivity I have never heard him 
make any sound. 


THi: I1AK1'\ l,Ai;l,l.. 
Drauin/rom li/e /or Si. Nicholas iy J. M CUeson. 

Vol. XXXI.— 105-106. 


;lieij [/ nought hi M AWd\j froivi his prairie hoMC, 
"TroM his coMrades^iO wild ai\i free 
'TroNi tk ^ciM^s dd sjiortb tliat were his delight , 
rAMcltW pLdiNs where lie \o^ti to 1j€/ 
lorthq faiNi Would cowoiuer fii5> sava(5e tastcG ; 

JLni tneij noped lie Miqlil ire Woulled - 
'T^hoirgh aw iNiiaN liou -to "follow aloN^ 
ihe trail of the whiu -wdN^s child 

Kovv X(\w to hi^t "^^f"^ ~^he Q.uiet haui^ts , 
cRhld X\\z h^M o[ the studij hour. 
Whew he loNged on his lare-l/acl^ed stet^d away. 
O'er the level fields to scour^ 
Or to |)ois£ hiM^elf oi\l a aiddij h^i^ht 
Vvbere i\lo white ivigi\I Would dare to ^o, 
cRmJ sei\ld his arrovV With fatal o.iN\ 
To the deer in the vale teLow ! 



His father a Poi\lca chief „' 

ft^Jd. MflMy a sca\\> he had thou<^kt to ■vVii\| 
iMselFji^ a 

(J War! il(e fie[. 
(AtJd i\loW as ne tossed 

Of\l his i\lQrroYV LreJ 
His sluNil/ers With 

dreads Were rife 
Of the toiviahawl(, a\\i 

^ the AccLclly &j>ear, 

'The huNiliuwi. l&Ss,tT) 
"TThe traii^ii\l^, Wm fart,, ..,.., 
To suit the tastelf this savage \io\^ , 
This fierce andl.tarbartc en I La; 
cKhlcl though h4 clailtj fkursuecl histasl^s. 
cMji\lcl dailj his' lesaohls sbelled, 
"The sjiirif WithiNl hiM. still uNlsul/Jued, 
Cach rlOLTf at his lot relrellei . 



ON^ed as lie sai atliis clrarj ciesk 
To return, to hi^ ctLstaMt ho/v\e, 


flee iroN\the spiritless, pdlefact' waj/5 
LA^nd— Q^iiiu d wiU boj/- to ro(LiY\ 
In the proN^hurw chau as m earlier ve(ir5 
T[ie years tliat were all too l/ri^cr — 
For h is h^^drt was the heart of aw IwJtan l;rave 
^iMdthe sou of d PoNcd chief. 


iDNE°r Uncle'M ' Joeys Jokes 




GREENE was five 
years old, and had a 
grievance. His sister, 
Mariannina, was half- 
past six. It was Fourth 
of July, and all the 
other boys had fire- 
crackers, but Johnny 
had none. 

But though there were no fire-crackers, there 
were six packages of torpedoes that Uncle 
Joey had bought for him and Mariannina. At 
first Johnny said he would take but one pack- 
age ; torpedoes were only for girls, anyhow. 
Like a martyr he singled out the smallest bag, 
and put five into his sister's pinafore. Sadly 
the two went out into the back yard. 

" We '11 take turns out o' mine first. Ninny," 
said he. " First I frow, den you. 

" P'r'aps, after all, we 'd better keep the bags 
all sep'rate," Johnny went on to say. " I take 
half the bags, and you take half" 

But even with this careful management the 
torpedoes were soon gone. 

Suddenly Mariannina had an idea. She 
picked up the torn cover of one of the exploded 
torpedoes. It was common white tissue-paper. 
She examined its contents. The torpedoes 
seemed to be made of sand and salt and things. 
" Johnny," cried she, " supposing we make 
some torpedoes ! " 

" I don't believe dey '11 torpede," answered 
Johnny, gloomily. 

" We can't tell till we try," said Ninny. 
" I 've got plenty of tissue-paper that came in 
the box with my beautiful wax doll." 

"Oh, yes," said Johnny; "but what 's de 
stuffing made of? " 

" What should you think it was ? " asked 

" Looks like sand and gravel," replied 
Johnny. " But sand has n't got any fire-bang 

'cause I 've frowed it ever 


to It, 


" Perhaps red pepper would help," suggested 
Ninny. " Anyway, I 'm going to get some." 

" You 'd better get bofe kinds of pepper ! " 
cried Johnny, as Mariannina ran into the house. 

Ninny soon returned with spice-box, .scissors, 
and tissue-paper. 

Ninny cut and Johnny mixed. Both children 
began to sneeze. 

" Supposing it went oft" wiv a bang while I 
was mixing it," said prudent John Hancock. 
He turned his head and mixed at long range. 

" First we '11 twist up two, just to try," said 

But just as they had finished the two, a curly 
head appeared above the high fence. The head 
belonged to Angelina Thurston ; the children 
knew very well that she was standing on the 

'• What you doin' ? " she called. 

" Oh, just making torpedoes," answered 

" Gi' — gi' me one ? " 

" I could n't exactly give 'em away," re- 
sponded Johnny. 

" Pooh ! " said Angelina. " I don't believe 
they 're any good, anyhow ! " 

" Don't let 's fire off" any till she 's gone," 
whispered Mariannina, " 'cause if anything 
should happen that they would n't be good, 
she 'd laugh at us. Let 's make more." 

Soon there was a fine large pile of beautifully 
formed torpedoes, looking for all the world like 
those you buy in the store. 

'■ Now, then," said Mariannina, her cheeks 
red with excitement, " let 's try 'em. You try 

She held her breath, and had her fingers 
ready to stop her ears. Johnny straightened 
himself, took aim, and furiously hurled one of 
the largest torpedoes against the stone. Alas 
and alas ! It fell as noiselessly as a snowflake. 




" It does n't torpede," said Johnny, plain- 

He tried another, and another, with the same 
result. Those i)lump and beautiful torpedoes, 
half filling the little cart, were — failures! 

Mariannina wei)t. But the dinner-bell rang 
and they went in. 

Now ail this time Uncle Joey, hidden behind 
the library blinds, Iiad been chuckling quietly to 
himself. Still smiling. Uncle Joey 0])ened the 
door of the library closet. On the top shelf 
were two i)ackages of torpedoes, intended as a 
pleasant surprise. Uncle Joey slipped out into 
the yard and put them in jjlace of the torpedoes 
the children had made. 

After dinner the children went again into the 
shady yard. The little cart with its little load 
of torpedoes was still there. John Hancock 
picked up a torpedo, sighed, and let it fall. 
Bang! To his immense surprise that torpedo 
was a success ! He tried another, and another. 
Oh, joy! 

Then appeared Angelina on the rain-barrel. 

"See our torpedoes?" cried Johnny. "Smell 
'em? Hear 'em?" .\nd he threw three together. 

" I say, will you give me a cent's worth ? " 
asked Angelina. 

She tossed down a cent, while Jolinny, stand- 
ing on a soap-box, gave her five torpedoes. 

Then Isabel and Amabel, the Bolton twins, 
sauntered into the yard. They had a cent be- 
tween them ; and seeing Angelina's purchase, 
they too wished to buy. Johnny sold them a 
cent's w^orth. 

" Made 'em ourselves," he said airily. 

" How' did you do it ? " asked the twins, in 

" Oh, it 's easy," answered Johnny. "Just 
take sand and salt and red pepper and black 
pepper, and twist 'em up in paper. I could do 
it wiv my eyes shut." 

Johnny, intent upon proving to tlie twins the 
ease with which torpedoes could be made, 
mixed more " stuffing " ; Mariannina cut two 
covers ; and there were now two brand-new- 
home-made torpedoes, one for Isabel and one 
for Amabel. 

" Aim, fire, bang ! " shouted Johnny. Isabel 
and Amabel obeyed. A jjainful surprise awaited 

them. The little white balls dropped as gently 
as kernels of popcorn. 

Then Uncle Joey had to come out and set 
all things right in the eyes of everybody. 
When the truth was known, and Angelina and 
Isabel and Amabel found they had bought 
common store torpedoes, they objected. 

" I only bought 'em," said Angelina, " 'cause 
I thought they were home-made." 

" So did we," added the twins. 



•• .AH right," said Uncle Joey, kindly ; " bring 
the torpedoes and you can have your money." 

" But we 've fired 'em all off." 

" Well," replied Uncle Joey, " I suppose I 
shall have to pay you out of my own pocket." 
But as he had no change smaller than five- 
cent pieces, he was obliged to give five cents 
to Angelina, and five to the twins. Then it 
occurred to him that it was rather cruel to 
leave out John Hancock and Mariannina ; so 
he gave five cents to each of these. 

" Now," said he, looking around at the little 
group, " I hope everybody is satisfied." 

But no ! Isabel Bolton, the smaller of the 
twins, lifted up her voice and wept ; for Amabel 
had taken charge of the Bolton five-cent piece, 
and Isabel's little fat hand was empty; and 
Uncle Joey got out one more five-cent piece 
to dry her tears, and then all-was right again. 


r^or loung- lolks. 

Hdited L\ EilwiirJ f\ Bisjelow. 


OBSERVATIONS AT THE WASHINGTON ZOO. t'S^r, said to be the largest one in cap- 
tivity. But if he would only move about as if 

Those who are constantly associated with he felt at home, and not be so dignified, we 
animals at a zoo see many comical and inter- should be better pleased with him ; yet the 
esting sights, and keepers of such places have poor creature is excusable, because he has dys- 
many stories to relate. 

The sea-lions are very much " smarter " than ', / , 

their appearance suggests, and while they are \ \ \ '\ ', ■ / / / 

always interesting, their method of feeding is -^m^—^'^^^'— ' > riJi^g^^^^^^^^P^ 
one of the most amusing things in the gar- 
dens. The keeper brings to the edge of >^ 
the pond a pail of fish, which average 
perhaps a foot m length, and flings each '^' ----- - 

one as far out as he can, when the sea-lions, ^^^:^^:ys^x\\ 
with amazing rapidity, swim to get them. 
I think that I have never yet seen a fish 
strike the water, as a lion catches it be- 
fore it has time, and swallows it head first. 

The sea-lion reminds one of a swift tor- 
pedo-boat, since he makes a similar " bow- 
and-stern wave " when he darts through 
the water. I am much interested in the 
art of swimming, and I felt curious to 
know how this expert manages to stop so 
suddenly. I find, upon investigation, that 
he does it by a quick downward turning 
of the fore flippers, with an extending of 
the hind ones, when tlie resistance of the 
water brings him up pretty short. 

In this particular zoo is a very beautiful 





pepsia, and liis sufferings make him cross. One 
day the keeper decided to administer a dose of 
medicine, so with the bottle and a wliip he 
climbed to the top of the cage. Was that tiger 
cross? You would have thought so if you 
had seen him throw back his great head and 
snap at the whip. The keeper, after enraging 
him, poured a little medicine down the lash, 
which he gradually withdrew, until in its place 
there was a tiny medicinal stream, at which the 
tiger kept biting and snapping, loo much sur- 
prised, it seemed, to distinguish between whip 
and liquid. Wlien he turned away his head 
the medicine was poured over his paws, and 
wlien he had licked them clean that day's 
treatment was completed. . 
The difference between 
that dinner and the dessert 
was not great. 

H. 15. Bradford. 


If you could get upon 
the back of a great bird 
and float far away over the 
southwestern part of our 
country you would see 
many strange and wonder- 
ful things. One of the 
most interesting of these is 
a vast desert which it would 
take days to cross if you 
had to walk. Sandy val- 
leys and low mountain ridges of bare rock ex- 
tend as far as you can see in every direction. 

In this desert a whole year sometimes jiasses 
without any raindrops falling. The sun shines 
from a .sky which is almost always clear, and in 
summer it beats down so fiercely that it seems 
as if it would burn up the earth. 

Few people live in this desert country, for 
there are no streams of water, and the springs 
are so many miles apart that one has always to 
carry water when a journey is undertaken. 
Everything needed to eat has to be brought 
hundreds of miles. Peculiar plants which need 
very little water grow in the sand, but there are 
no trees. Animals and birds live tliere, but 

most of them seek the shade and are out of 
sight during the long, hot days. Some of the 
animals are very strange creatures, fitted to go 
for weeks and even months without anv water 
other than tiiat within tiieir own bodies. 

In the center of one of the most lonesome 
and dreary portions of this desert there is a 
cabin standing all alone. From a little dis- 
tance it seems to be made of blocks of rough 
stone, but if you will look at these blocks 
closely you will find that they are clear and 
glassy. These are curious rocks w-ith which 
to build a cabin. What can they be? They 
are not ice, for there is no water here, and, be- 
sides, ice would quickly melt under the hot sun. 

Break of? a piece and touch it to the tongue, 
for a taste may tell what you wish to know. 
You find that there is a taste, and that it is of 
salt. The cabin is made of pieces of salt- 
rock-salt, we call it, because it is quarried in 
solid pieces like rock. The walls, the fireplace, 
and the chimney are of salt. The framework 
of the roof alone is of wood, and this is hidden 
upon the outside by a layer of earth. This 
strange cabin is probably the only one of its 
kind in the world. 

We all know how quickly salt dissolves when 
it is wet. The cabin has been built many years, 
but there is so little rain in tlfe region in which 
it stands that the cabin is in as good condition 





as when first built. All that the rain has done 
to the cabin is to dissolve enough of the salt 
to cement and make one solid mass of the 
pieces in the walls. This has taken place in 
much the same way as the freezing together of 
blocks of ice after being exposed to the warm 
sun of a winter day. 

Years ago some prospectors discovered a 
bed of salt here, and built the cabin to live in 
while quarrying the salt. They found at last 
that it cost too much to ship the salt out of 
the desert, and so abandoned their work. 

If you could scrape off the sand from the 
broad valley in which the cabin stands, you 
would find the bed of salt' extending perhaps for 
miles and looking for all the world like a frozen 
lake such as you enjoy skating upon. What a 
quantity of salt there is! It would supply the 
whole world for thousands of years. 

The valley in which the salt lies is a real 
basin, for the land is higher all about. If the 
basin were filled with water the water could 
not run away. Once the basin was full of 
water, but it was long, long ago. The land in 
this part of southeastern California was not 
then as high as it is now. The Gulf of 
California reached many miles farther north, 
even to the basin where the salt cabin stands. 

Then the earth began to rise, as though some 
giant below were lifting it. By and by the 
ocean ran back and left this rising land, but 
lakes remained here and there in the low places. 

Through many years the water slowly dried 
up, passing away, as invisible little particles, into 
the dry air; but the salt which it contained — 

for you must know that all sea-water is 
salty — could not escape in thismanner and 
so was left. At last, after the water was 
about gone, there remained a thick layer 
of glassy salt in the bottom of the basin. 
Then the winds blew and carried sand 
from the deserts about and hid the most 
of the salt from sight. 

This is the story of the salt cabin and 
how one bed of rock-salt was made. In 
other parts of the world there are beds of 
rock-salt buried hundreds of feet below 
the surface. They have to be reached by 
deep shafts, which look much like wells. 
Harold W. Fairbanks. 


A WONDERFUL casc of adaptation is shown in 
a honey-bee's foot, which consists of claws and 
a pad (called a pulvillus). Projecting from the 
lower side of this pulvillus are numerous hairs 
called tenent or holding 
hairs, which secrete a 
clear, sticky fluid that 
enables the bee to walk 
on smooth surfaces. 
The pulvillus may be 
used or not, as desired. 
When the bee is walk- 
ing on a rough object 
the claws only are used, 
and the pulvillus is fold- 
ed and turned upward 


(Fig. I). 

On a smooth surface !t:^„"". pulvillus, or pad, 


the claws are turned 

down and backward and only thepulvillus is used 
(Fig. 2), and when the foot is to be removed 
the pulvillus is loosened by being rolled up from 
the edges, as you would remove a plaster — 
only, in this case, 


much more quickly. 
Cheshire, in his ex- 
cellent book on " Bees 
and Bee Keeping," 
says : " The bee can 
fix and release each 
foot at least twenty 
times a second." 







A.NV boy or girl who has a 
camera and a good stock of pa- 
tience may secure a photograph 
of lightning. The patience is 
needed in waiting for the light- 
ning. AVhen a thunder-shower 
comes at night, keep a sharj^ 
lookout for an opportunity to 
secure your picture. You can- 
not get a picture of lightning 
during every thunder-shower. 
Clouds or a heavy downpour ol 
rain often conceals the flash 
from view, and we have " sheet- 
lightning." It is useless to pho- 
tograph this, but you may by its 
light get an interesting picture 
of the landscape. When the 
sharp " chain-lightning " comes, 
select a window from which you 
can see it well, or, if it is not 
raining, go out of doors and set 

the camera on the tripod focused 
as for a distant view and pointed 
toward that quarter of the hea- 
\ens in which the lightning is 
most frequent. The diaphragm 
should be set to the largest 
opening that is ever used, the 
slide drawn, and the lens un- 
covered as for a time exposure. 
Then follows a wait of one, two, 
five, or even twenty minutes, 
until a bright flash comes within 
the field of view of the camera, 
when the lightning takes its own 
[(icture. Then cover the lens, 
push in the slide, and you are 
ready to try again on a fresh 
I)late. Oliver P. Watts. 

Mr. McFarland took the 
second photograph on this page 
with a 5x8 camera from an 
open window in his sleeping- 
room. A thunder-storm awak- 
ened him at night. He left the 
plate exposed for several hours. 





of its friends near. 

A LITTLE ARCTIC TRAVELER. '■''ory ^re privileged to meet this particular spe- 

cies, and only from about the middle of May to 
Several thousand years ago a little traveler the middle of June, 
was stranded in the northeastern part of the As they modestly cling to the dark, mossy 
United States in a strange land, and with none rocks far up the south side of the gorges, shel- 
tered from the sun and cooled by the spray, 
the delicate appearance of the masses of tender 
plants bearing the tiny pink star-like flowers 
gives us little idea of the rebuffs this plant has 
encountered and the hardships it has endiu'ed to 
become a little naturalized citizen of our tem- 
perate zone. Eva E. Furlong. 

You will find further descriptions of this lit- 
tle plant in the botanies under the name dwarf 
Canadian primrose [Pri»iii/a Mistassiiiica). 

The plant also occurs in places 
in northern Europe. It seems 


This little foreigner was a tiny plant, the sub- 
arctic primula, and you can easily guess that it 
was left behind by the great ice-sheet of the strange that a little plant should 
glacial period which at that time covered this prefer such a cold climate. Yet it 



As the climate grew warmer, and the ice 
melted and receded, we all know that it left in 
its wake lakes and rivers that had never before 
existed, dug out gorges and formed waterfalls, 
and scattered all manner of glacial deposits. 

And it also left behind it, in 
these strange new surroundings, 
this delicate little plant of the 
primrose family. 

The great mass of animal and 
plant life which survived the ice- 
sheet gave up its struggle for ex- 
istence ; but the sturdy primrose 
persevered and began looking 
about for the most natural place 
it could find for a home, finally 
deciding upon the shaded wet 
walls of the ravines then form- 
ing. It set bravely to work, mak- 
ing the best of its surroundings 
and adapting itself to them. This 
member of the primrose family 
closely resembles the rest in ap- 
pearance, with the exception of 
being smaller ; but only those or 
us who live along certain wet 
banks from Maine to Greenland, 
and west to central New York, 
Michigan, and the Northwest Ter- 

is some of our smallest and appa- 
rently most fragile plants, like the 
hepaticaand stitch- ,^_^ . 
wort, that bloom !^^ <, > 

under the snow in 









some monkeys can swim. 

St. Hkle.ns, 
Hastings, England. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I saw in Nature and Science 
a query asking if monkeys can swim. Altluiugh it lias 
been answered, I thought your readers might like to 
know the monkeys of Bomliay, Indi.-i, will swim 
out to vessels anchored there for bits of food given to 
them by the sailors. 

Yours very truly, 
Freda M. Harrison (age in. 

mate aerolites ami .smoke-trail.s as being near at 
hand, when they are really many miles away. — 
Professor Cleveland .\iiBK, Weather Bureau, 

variations in leaves. 

Oakland, Cal. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I was making some pictures 
of leaves, and I noticed my pansy leaves were all 
different. I have made four different kinds on a piece 
of paper and am going to send them to you. 

Deiiorah Dunning. 

Wilkes Barre, Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I wish to know why three 
different kinds of leaves grow on the same stem ; will 
you please tell me? I inclose you a sample. Good-by. 
Your friend, T. .\i.len Mills, Jr. 

\Ye did not see or 

was it a meteor i 
Wkathersitki.d Center, Yt. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I like 
your N.ature and Science depart 
ment. I live on a farm. Oni 
day in .^jiril my sister was trans- 
planting some plants on the pi- 
azza, and I was standing near. 
We heard a rumbling sound, 
which I thought might be a lum- 
ber-wagon going along the road. 
This noise continued for a few 
seconds. When it stopped we 
saw a column of something whicli 
looked like light smoke or fog 
rise from the ground about ;i 
quarter of a mile away. It was 
about as thick as a man, and rose 
straight up ten or fifteen feet or 
thereabouts, and went out of sight 
hear anything more, and, after waiting a little, I went 
down to the place. The place is a rather swampy mow- 
ing which we do not plow. It is quite rough, and has 
small trees and bushes scattered about in it. There are 
woods beyond, with a brook, which is about four feet 
wide and averages about nine inches deep, running 
through it. The " smoke " rose on the north side of a 
clump of elm-trees which were about ten feet tall. I 
did not see anything unusual :it tlie place. Can you 
explain this 'f 

Your interested reader, 

.•\i;(;usTis W. .Vidrich (age ifi). 

Apparently a small explosion of gunpowder 
would explain the phenomenon of the column 
of smoke and the On the other hand, 
precisely such rumbling sounds, followed by a 
trail of smoke, attend aerolites or meteors, and 
it is quite possible that such was the case in 
the present instance. Obser\-ers generally esti- 



Nole that the three forms are distinct iti the small as well as in the large leaves. 

Some plants and trees have each leaves of the 
same general type. Yet even among these a 
close examination will reveal the fact that no 
two are exactly alike. 

Other plants and trees have leaves of two 
or more distinctly different types. Perhaps 
the most common and marked example is in 
the leaves of the sas.safras. On one branch 
may be found three distinctly different designs 
— the solid form with unbroken outline, the 
" mitten " form, and the " tiiree-pronged " 
form. Note the variations in si/.e in relation to 
the best lighted parts of the tree or plant. Note 
also variations in the veinings and markings. 

Examine also the leaves of tulip-tree, mul- 
Ijerry, and other trees with resj)ect to variation. 
If you find any two exactly alike in size, out- 
line, and veining, please press them and send 
to Nature and Science. 




the ostrich-fern. 

Stockbridge, Mass. 

Dear St. Nicholas : We were all very much interested last 
spring in watching the growth of a row of tall " river-ferns," as 
they call them, which grow in front of our piazza. They grow 
here in great numbers along the Housatonic, and had been 
planted near the house before we came here. Their growth 
seemed to be like ordinary ferns till just a little while ago, 
when some curious sprouts came up in the middle of each 
plant. One would imagine them fronds, except that they do 
not grow on the spiral. The ferns tliemselves are very tall — 
the largest I have ever seen. 

These shoots are of a dark, disagreeable olive green, do not 
spread prettily, and are very thick and ugly. Do brakes act 
this way? for the plants seem much too large to be real ferns 
of a temperate climate. Inside the sprouts are tiny seeds (per- 
haps spores). We should all be glad to hear an explanation in 
your Nature and Science department. 

Sincerely yours, 

Elizaiieth C. Porter (age 15). 

The fern you describe, and of which you sent 
h'beral specimens, is the ostrich-fern {Struthiopteris 



Gcrmanica). The common 
name is due to an imagined like- 
ness of the fronds to an ostrich- 
feather. This fern is the tallest 
of Eastern American ferns, and 
by many regarded as the hand- 

In the illustration at the left 
our artist has represented the 
characteristic form and growth 
of these beautiful ferns by the 
riverside. The straight fruiting 
frond is shown in the center of 
each clump. It is these fertile 
fronds that resemble ostrich- 

In " Our Ferns in their 
Haunts," Clute says of this fern: 

It is at its best in the wet, sandy 
soil of a half-shaded island or river 
shore, and in such situations puts up 


naturp: and science for young folks. 


magnificent crowns of frond-; that often reach a length 
of seven feet. In the northern United Slates there are 
many jungle-like thickets of this species in which a man 
of ordinary height may stand and be completely hidden. 


SiRAssiu'Ro, Germany. 
Dear St. Nicholas: The storks usually come to 
Strassburg in the first or middle of spring, but last 
year they were unusually early, coming the beginning 
of March. They are gradually becoming extinct. 
They build their nests on the tops of the tallest chim- 
neys of Slr.issburg, as is shown in the photograph I 
inclose herewith. Last year there were thirteen nests. 
These nests are high and basket-shaped. One that we 
looked at from the top of the has three young 
ones in it. The full-grown storks are about the size of 
a sm.all turkey, although their bodies are very slim. 
The storks have long thin red legs and long red bills. 
Their feathers are white and the wings are tipped with 
long black feathers that wave like fringe when they fly. 
Their tail-feathers are black. The storks are very tame 
and we see one or two nests in all the tiny villages of 
Alsace. They fly away every year in October, return- 
ing to the same nests ; but if any nest is destroyed by 
accident, they make a mournful sound, and fly away, 
never to return. The peasants believe the storks bring 
luck, so no one would wilfully destroy a nest. 
Very respectfully, 
Bessie Parker Frick (age 11). 



RosLiNDAi.E, Mass. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Would you like to know 
.about a nest built by a mother phcebe in a very queer 
place? It was in a shed, where one window was 
broken, so that the bird could fly in and out. There 
was a tin pail hanging on a beam. The last time the 
pail was t:iken down, the cover was put on upside 
down, and the phcebe built her nest in it, one side of 
the nest resting against the beam. The farmer who 
found the nest was very careful not to frighten the 
mother away, and there are now four little birds in it. 
Elas W. Stone (age 12). 

The phcebe's favorite location is underneath 
a bridge, or in a rocky bank by a brookside. 

THE poison of THE COBRA. 

C.krmantown', Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Please tell me what cobras' 
poison is made of that makes them so much more 
deadly than other snakes. 

Your interested reader, 
THOiMAS McKean Dowers (age 10). 

The venom of the cobra contains an ingre- 
dient not well known that acts upon the 
nerves. Its effects are rapid and difficult to 
counteract. This ingredient exists in the 
cobra's venom to a greater extent than the 
other substances that make up the poison. 
The poison of the viperine and crotaline 
snakes (the rattlesnakes, copperhead, moccasin, 
etc.) contains but a small percentage of this 
nerve-destroying (or paralyzing) element. The 
poison of these snakes acts principally upon the 
blood, and in consequence its. action is slower. 
Ravjiond L. Ditmars. 


->U, A^AjjvfefcY^ 


(^Go/d Badge-.) 

We talk and think of the relics that mark the events of The sun was shining on the streets, the river sparkled by, 

old. When suddenly upon the breeze a bell rang loud and 

And many a silent story these voiceless things have free; 

told ; In every note rebellion spoke, each note was liberty! 

They tell us of heroes gallant, of many a siege and They rang it till its side was cracked, just as we see 

fight, it now. 

And illustrate their phantom tales with phantom pic- The housewife at her spindle heard, the farmer at his 

tures bright. plow. 

The Liberty Bell is cracked and old; it can no longer And that is why this ancient bell is treasured and pre- 

ring ; served, 

Without associations it would be a useless thing. Like many another storied thing that has its country 

Yet on a summer morning still, a day in hot July, served. 

The drawings this month were both good and nu- 
merous. We have had to make smaller reproductions 
of them than usual in order to get a fair representation 
in numbers. Some of the pictures are from old friends 
and their work shows continued improvement. Indeed, 
among these are drawings so good tliat it would be very 
hard to point out their faults. 

Next to the drawings this month rank the true stories 
of dog heroism, and it is the editor's regret that more of 
these cannot be published. The fine intelligent dog 
that saves life, often at the risk of his own, is some- 
thing we never cease to admire, and the story cannot be 
told too often. 

One of the very best of these stories is one that we 
do not print as written, because three different mem- 
bers sent it in from Cleveland, where the remarkable 
incident occurred, and all told it so well that to print 
one would not be fair to the other two. This was the 
story : 

A little curly-haired dog awoke one night to find 
smoke in the room where he had been sleeping. Im- 

mediately he ran to the bedroom of his master and 
pawed and scratched on the door until it was opened, 
when he plunged in and by every means he knew made 
it plain that something was wrong. The fire being dis- 
covered, the owner of the house and his family hurried 
out to a place of safety, forgetting the noble little dog. 
A window had been opened from the top in the master's 
room, and the draft had blown the door shut before the 
little animal, who waited until all were out, could make 
his escape. An effort was made to save him, but it was 
too late. One of the reports says that a little head- 
stone now stands in the corner of the yard, and upon 
it is carved : 

HERE lies CfRLY 





Surely no hero ever more truly deserved to have his 
memory kept alive in the hearts of his debtors. 




In making tlie awards, contrilnitors' ages are con- 

Verse. Gold badges, Elizabeth M. T. Wood (age 
12), Sayville, L. L, N. V., and Helene Mabel Sawyer 
(age 12), 611 X. 4tli Si., Kenkuk, la. 

Silver Kadges, Joseph R. Gousha (age 14), De Kalli 
and Main streets, Norristown, I'a., and Dorothy Walker 
(age 14), Bawtry, Yorkshire, F.ngland. 

Prose. Gold badges, Elizabeth R. Eastman (age 
17), ^^ S. High St., Xew Kritain, (.onn., and Ruth 
Kinsey (age 14), "The Glencoc," Mt. -Vuburn, Cin- 
cinnati, <^'hii). 

Silver badges, Martin Janowitz (age 15), 3S7 Jef- 
ferson St., HutTalo, N. v., Alice G. Peirce (age 11), 
54 .Mountain .\ve., .Montclair, \. ].. and Margaret F. 
Grant (age 10), .\rni- 
dale, \. \V. Arm, Hali- 
fax, Xiiva Siotia. 

Drawing. Cash 
prize, F. Miles Green- 
leaf (age 17), 132 .\. 
38tli Ave.,Oniaha,Xeli. 

(■...Id badge, Ade- 
laide Durst (age 15), 
191 1 \V. Edmondson 
Ave., IJaltiniore, Md. 

Silver badges, Irene 
Gaylord Farnham (age 
II), liiix 511, I.aurinni, 
Mich., Jessie C. Shaw 
(.age 16), liu.\S37, Ib.n- 
olulu, II. I., an.l Doro- 
thy Longstreth (age 
13), cor. Penn and Knox 
streets, Germantown, 
Phikidilphia, I'a. 

Photography. ('...11 
bailgo. Gertrude Har- 
ris Reazor (age 15). St. 

Mark's Kectiiry, West 
Orange, X. [., anil 
Harry Lefeber (age 1 ;), 
84 \V. Main St.," Wan- 
watosa, Wis. 

.Silver b.adges. Hey 
liger de Windt (age 

13). Wirnietka, III., and 
Helen Seaman (age 91, 
290 \'andiTbih .\ve., 
Bro.>klyn, X. N'. 

Wild Animal and 
Bird Photography. 
Flr^i |iri/e, •■ .Mallards," by John V. S. BloodgOOd (.age 
14), 56 W. 37th St., N. Y. 

Second prize, "Deer," by G.Herbert Duncan (age 
14), 92 Walmer Rd., Toronto, Can. 

'riiir.l prize, "Coot's Nest," by Katharine Monica 
Burton (age 13), Highfield, G.ainsborr.iigli, I'.iiglan.l. 

Puzzle-making. Gold badges, Jennie Milliken (age 
i6b 111 State St., Portland, Me., and L. Arnold Post 
(age 14), Stanfordvillo, X. ^■. 

Silver b.adges, Juniata Fairfield (age g), 24 Cottage 
St., Ware, Mass., and Marie B. Townsend (age 7), 
Bolivar, Mo. 

Puzzle-answers. Gold b.adge, Marian A. Smith 
(age 141, 201S Ilawthiirne Ave., Minneapoli-, Minn. 

Silver badges, Mary R. Adam(agc 15), 16 W. llousa- 
tonic St., Pittsfield, Mass., and Eleanor Wyman (age 
13), X'unica, Mich. 

Vol. XXXI.— 107. 





(GoM Badgi.) 

A METAL thing thou art, and yet a shrine, 

A lifeless object, yet one which creates 

A throb of life within each human heart 

That knows thy name, and what thy voice hath done. 

This nation's progress thou liast watched, these years; 

Hast seen its strife, h.ast witnessed all its woes; 

Hast seen it thrive, expand, in liberty. 

And then at last achieve its mighty name. 

Never has man so great a task fulfilled 

As this which thou hast done — this wondrous work 

Of giving strength to men downcast, oppressed, 

To meet the worst in freedom's mighty cause. 

-And now that peace has come, thou hast thy share, 

For never more thou 'It 
need — we hope and— 
1.. send thy song of 
freedom o'er the 
I ii witness such another 

bloody strife. 
.■\iid so rest on, creator 

of a race ! 
Thy worthy life should 
end in well-earned 
Kcst, for thy work is 
done, thy task ful- 
riiy mission wrought, 
thy mighty tongue 
at rest. 


MAN (ACE 17). 

{Gold Badge,) 
X GOOD many years 
ago, when my mother 
was a young lady, there 
was a flood in the small 
Mass.achusetts town 
where she lived — not a 
very large flood, but one 
which carried away a 
number of buildings in 
the lower part of the 
town near the river. 


My mother's home, being on higher ground, was not 
reached by the flood ; but one of her little Sunday-school 
scholars, Johnny .Scheip, was less fortunate. His home 
Tcw.t floodeil, and had it not been for the bravery of 
Johnny's dog, his baby sister would have been drowned. 

The faithful dog, when the water reached the house, 
drove the frightened little chicks and their hen mamas 
on to the top of the hen-coop. Then he ran to the baby, 
and, catching her dress in his mouth, he dragged her 
hurriedly, yet with great care, down to the water's 
edge. Then, carefully holding her head above water, 
he half w.aded, half swam, out to the now floating hen- 
coop, and laid her gently upon it. 

This novel craft with its strange crew sailed swiftly 
downstream, passing floating houses chairs, tallies, and 
every kind of furniture. .Ml sorts of debris filled the 
river around it, yet it came into collision with nothing. 


It floated safely on, baby and 
chickens quite wet and fright- 
ened, but unhurt, until finally 
the brave dog, swimming with 
the rapid current, pushed it 

There he stood guard over his 
charges through the long night, 
the baby sleeping quietly with 
her head against the dog's soft 
body. And there Johnny found 
them all ne.xt morning, safe and 

How thankful the Scheips 
were to see their darling, whom 
they had given up for lost, and 
how proud they were of her res- 
cuer, I can only imagine ; but I 
am sure /should have been proud 
of such a hero. 



(Sik'cr Badge.) 
^VllEN the flowers are in the 
And the west wind whispers 

When the whole bright worUl is 

With the skylark in the sky, 
When the streamlet murmurs softly 

As it flows along the dale, 
And each hedge is crowned in glory 

With the hawthorn blossom pale, 
Then our work seems dull and dreary 

And we wish the clock to say : 
*' 'T is time to ring the liberty bell 

And put your books away." 



{Gold Badge.) 

He did n't save any one's life, 
or rush into danger at the risk of 
his own, but day in, day out, sub- 
mitted to all sorts of indignities. 
He belonged to some friends of 
ours and his name was Seal. 

Near our camp were some nat- 
ural tubs, worn out of solid gran- 
ite by the constant rush of the 

It was our great delight to drag 
the poor dog up to these and 
souse him under. Up he would 
come, puffing and blowing, try- 
ing to scramble up the sides ; but 
we had no mercy, and would push 
him under again and again. 

As he was settling himself for 
a nap, we would grab him and 
dress him up in doll clothes, with 
a sun-l)onnet on his head and a 
tight ribbon sash trailing in the 
dust. In these he would wander 
around until they M'ere scraped 
off on some tree. 

When we went to hunt pine- 







'a pleasant corner. by HELEN SEAMAN, 


knots, Seal was hitched to a box 
without wheels ; in this we stuffed 
all the heavy knots, and compelled 
him to drag it ojier stumps and 
stones to camp — grunting and 
complaining, but never offering 
to bite. 

There was a large boulder near 
camp, which we would climb ; its 
sides were steep, and it took prac- 
tice to get up. How we ever con- 
ceived the idea of hoisting Seal 
up there, I don't know — but we 
did. I took his front legs, while 
Elinor hoisted from behind, and, 
pulling and scraping, we got him 
up. It was hard work for all con- 
cerned, but Seal took it philosoph- 
ically, and jumped off as soon as 
he was fairly up. 

In a deep crevice between two 
rocks we would push him, and 
stand at the opening and watch 
his frantic rushings to and fro. 
When we got tired of standing 
there we let him out, and he 
would lick our hands to thank 

After the execution of King 
Charles, we would pretend that 
Seal was the unfortunate King, 
and would maul him unmercifully, and then tie him 
in the hammock and swing him in spite of his bowl- 

Through all this he never lost his good nature, and 
was always ready for whatever came next, far nobler 
than his cruel tormentors. 

He that ruleth his temper is greater than the mighty. 
If this applies to men, why not to Seal? — whom I 
consider a true hero. 



{A Former P}-ize-7vinuei\) 
Ring out, great bell! 
Thy story tell 
Of liberty! 
Not low nor sad, 
But full of glad 

Ring loud! Ring long! 
Proclaim thy song 

Triumpliantly ! 
The nation hears, 
And, answering, cheers 




{Silver Badge.) 

At Cow Bay, Halifax County, 
Nova Scotia, Rover, a Newfound- 
land dog belonging to Mr. Mosh- 
er, one day did a wonderful act. 
It was a stormy day : the surf was 
high, and from the lighthouse the 
watchman saw a small schooner 
dashing against the rocks, and 
being too rough to launch the life- 
boat it seemed as if the schooner 




Mr ' ' 



Tl~>^\ • iMiim' Milfl 







* , : V .u.- .. 




I!V JOSErll R. GOCSHA (AllE I4). 

Al.l HOUGH tliy tongue is ncnv ([uite still, 
.'\ncl thou dost swing no more on high, 

Thou hast a mission to fulfil 
To generations passing liy. 

Thou mutely speak'st of heroes dead, 
Who bravely for their country fought. 

Of battle-fielcis with blood all red, 
Of liberty so dearly bought. 

Thy silent task is to teach all • 

That they shall guard, with .ill their might. 
Their free, strong nation at the call, 

.\nd keep the glow of freedom bright. 


was doomed, but suddenly a bright idea struck them. 
Seizing hold of a long rope, they gave one end to the 
dog, and taking hold of the other end themselves, they 
pointed to the schooner. Rover seemed to understand. 
Dashing bravely into the water, he made for the 
schooner. Sometimes it seemed that he would be 
drowned; but no, he was up again, and plunging 
bravely on, he reached the schooner. The sailors took 
the rope from Rover, and tying it to the schooner, they 
went back on it. Rover swam back. The dog was 
promised a gold collar, but died before he got it. This 
happened about nine years ago. 



(Sih'fr Batig,:) 

Once our mother owned two dogs. One was an Irisli 
setter named Leo, the other a black English setter 
named Prince. 

They were deadly enemies, and very jealous of each 

If anyone paid more attention to one than the other they 
would fight, and growled every time they saw each other. 

One day mother was out driving, and Prince was 
Tunning l>ehinil the carriage, when a ferocious bulldog 
ran out from a house close by and bit at him. 

Of course that started a fight. It was a hard one, 
and Prince was getting the worst of it. 

Leo was out with them, too, and had run quite a dis- 
tance ahead up a steep hill. 

Turning, he saw Prince was in a fight and getting the 
worst of it. 

He ran back down the 
hill as fast as he could go, 
and, dashing into the fight, 
bit and tore at the bulldog. 

The owner of the bulldog 
was standing near, and did 
all he could to stop the fight. 

.•\t last it was stop|>ed, 
but Leo had saved the life 
of Prince, his enemy. 

He knew ; he lived right 
with him in the family ; so 
he risked his own life to 
save his enemy's, and I 

think that was very brave "coot-s nest." bv kathar 
and heroic. (third prize, "wild 

"wild-animal PHOTOGRAPH.") 


As we have often announced, we will replace the 
regular League badge, free, in case of loss or injury. 

We regret to say, however, that many prize-winners 
have lost their gold and silver badges, and have written to 
see if they could not purchase others in place of them. 

In some instances and on certain conditions we have 
granted the request of the losers, but we cannot con- 
tinue to do so. Prize-winners must value their honors 
enough to preserve them with such care that loss is 
well-nigh impossible, and if loss does come the gold 
and silver badges must hereafter be counted among 
those vanished things which cannot be replaced. 

'J^:i^ ' "-^^^""'.^l^ 




■ ''^^^'- i 





(AGE 15). 
{Silver Badge.) 

Little Esther longed 
r a dog. .So one day 
ither brought one home 
— the cutest little terrier 
you ever saw. In a short 
time they were friends. 
Often they played house- 
keeping — Esther being the 
mother, a doll named Caro- 
line the child, and Rollo, 




of one of our neighbors, Esther carrying her dog in 
one hand and with the other trying to carry the doll and 
hold up her little dress. 



Hark to the clamor that spreads o'er a city! 

List to the sound of a clear, ringing call ; 
Cheer after cheer the glad tidings reecho : 
" Brave independence and freedom to all!" 

Swaying aloft in a high ancient steeple, 
First to declare that the people are free, 

Pealing the news to both country and city. 
This is the bell that proclaims liberty. 

Over and over it tells us the story — 
Triumphant people e,\ult in the sound : 
' Free! we are free! Independence for- 
.All unjust tyranny dashed to the ground! 


ghted ; 

a wrong to be 


Battles we fight, by our brave heroes led. 
Glorious Union, — the pride of our nation, — 
Know you the cost of the years that have 

History's pages will tell us the story — 
Fresh may it ever be kept in our minds! 

Carefully, then, the old bell let us treasure: 
Past deeds and present together it binds! 

the dog, was the man of the house. 
Now I will tell how Rollo did not 
fail to live up to his title. 

As we were sleeping, one night last summer, we were 
all awakened by a loud barking. 

This aroused us. 

Smoke greeted our nostrils as we came into the hall. 
It was pouring up the stairway in huge volumes. We 
knew what had occurred : Rollo had awakened us, for 
the house was afire! Half dressed we ran out into the 
street, which was fast fill- 
ing with spectators. As 
we stood there shivering 
from the cool night wind, 
Rollo came running to us. 
Seeing Esther crying, he 
looked at her a moment, 
and then, before any one 
could stop him, he dashed 
into the burning building. 
Probably he was gone a 
minute, but it seemed an 
age before he returned. 
We saw there was some- 
thing in his mouth when 
he approached us. 

He ran up to Esther and 
laid it at her feet. Can you 
guess what it was? The 
doll, Caroline! Then you 
ought to have heard the 
crowd cheer ! 'Rah after 
'rah went up! 

After the fire was out, 
there being no very heavy 
loss, we entered the home 


The St. Nicholas League is an organization of St, Nich- 
olas readers. E\er>' reader of Ihe magazine, whether a 
subscriber or not, is entitled to a League badge and instruc- 
tion leaflet, free, upon application. 





A FRIE.ND of mine, who 
lives on the coast of Maine, 
owned a large St. Bernard 
— a beautiful dog and very 
smart. He ran errands and 
played with the boys most 
of the time, antl often went 
on long walks with them. 

One day he started for a 
walk with a small boy of 
six. He was often with this 
boy, and seemed to think 
that it was his duty to take 
care of him. 

On this particular day 
they were exploring the 
wharves, wdien they went 
out on the breakwater. The 
boy was playing on the edge 
when he suddenly jumped 
or fell ofT. The current, 
which was very strong, car- 
ried him down through the 
Narrows. The dog jumped 

NE GAVLORD FAR.NHA.M, '"'° '■'^]'' "'j^'", ''"'J ^^^^"? ^° 

DGE.) savehis friend. Hereached 




the boy, and tried to swim to land, but was 
carried down by the current. The people 011 
shore, seeing them, launched a boat and soon 
reached the dog, who was bravely holding up 
the boy. The men took the boy in >he boat 
and started for the shore, thinking that the dog 
was .-ible to swim there himself; but the current 
was too much for him, and he was carried out 
to sea and has never been seen since. The boy 
reached land safely, and is very grateful to his 
faithful friend. 



Some say I look best and am sweet as a rose. 
Very dainty and nice from my head to my toes. 
When all in my very best gown I am dressed. 
But some people like my yellow one best; 
It has queer little buttons all down the back, 
And a ruffle of white .ind a plaiting of black. 
And it 's 'most as good as my Sunday dress. 
But you see mama got it for ten cents less. 
And some people say— they don't all agree- 
That my new blue muslin looks best on me ; 
It is tucked and ruffled and edged with pink, 
And the minister likes it a lot, I think. 
But the one I like is n't any of these; 
It 's the one I can play in and do as I please, 
And it 's just as common as common can be. 
And nobody says it looks pretty on me : 
But I 'd give all my best ones, and more, I guess, 
If I could just live in my good-time dress. 


O.VE evening we were sitting round the fire, for it 
was a cold, rainy, ugly night, when we heard a little 
scratching and whining at the front door. I ran and 
opened it, and saw a poor, cowering, tiny Scotch terrier. 
I took him in and put him down by 
the fire, .and ran to get some milk, 
which he lapped up eagerly. The next 
morning when I went to inquire about 
him I found that one of the gardeners 
had seen a farmer pass who picked him 
up and carried him off. We felt sorry 
to lose him. But that evening we 
he.ird another scratching. I ran to 
the door, and there was Midge, with 
a heavy rope eight feet long hanging 
behind him. His tongue was out and 
he was panting badly. I again took 
him in and petted him. 
The next morning a man 
appeared and demanded 
the tlog, saying that he 
was his. We all felt so 
sorry about it that we 
decided to buy him. 

He was a dear little 
dog and very clever. On 
one occasion when a 
man went into a store, 
leaving his horses and 
sleigh outside. Midge saw the horses start to trot away. 
He jumped and caught the reins. He was dragged sev- 
eral yards, but he stopped the horses. 

Another time old True, a large dog who was very old 
and blind, was lying in the avenue leading up to the 




house, when a large carriage drove up. Midge saw it 
coming and ran forward. Catching True by the tail, he 
tried to drag him away, but sleepy True would n't 
move. The coachman, seeing Midge's kind intentions, 
turned out. 

Midge was the most important little dog I ever saw. 
He always ushered the horses out of the stable with 
loud barking, jumping up and down before them, some- 
times turning a somersault in his excitement. Then he 
always went with the carriage. 

Once when he was out with my aunt he ran .ahead 
and then came back barking hard and jumping up and 
down, trying in every way to make tlie horses stop. 
My aunt, who had great confidence in him, sent some 
one ahead to see what was the matter. They found a 
bridge was broken away, anil if they had gone down 
there they would proliably have been killed. 

I think Midge was a hero and ought to be remem- 
bered, don't you? 


(AGE 9). 

DUDF, is a very affectionate and in- 
telligent dog. I don't know of what 
breed he is, but he is some kind of big, 
fat, woolly poodle, tan-colored, with 
(lap])ing black ears — not at all heroic- 
looking. Somebody even called him 
a sponge. Nevertheless Dude is a 
hero, s])onge or no sponge, and every 
old miner in Cripple Creek knows that. 
Aliout five or six years 
ago there was a bad cave- 
in at the Half Moon 
Mine, imprisoning five 
men, one of whom was 
Dude's former master. 
There was a small open- 
ing, enough to admit air, 
but not sufficiently large 
for a man to go through. 
It was believed that it 
would take several days 
to reach the imprisoned miners, and the question was 
how to get food to them. Dude's master shouted out, 
"Go get my dog. He will bring it to us." So Dude 
was brought, and for nearly a week he crawled back 
and forth through the narrow passage, carrying food 





and drink, and never attempting to taste a morsel of it 
himself. At length the men were rescued and Dude 
was the hero of the hour. Dude is now living in the 
lap of luxury in Golden, feasting on custard-pie and 
grapes, and when he dies it w^ill not be too much to 
carve for his epitaph, "Beloved by all who knew him." 



Mr. and Mrs. Lowell's three little girls were playing 
on the wharf of their summer home, wdiich was situ- 
ated on the Canadian side of Lake Ontario. The water 
was quite deep in that spot, but tlie mother and father 
were near at hand to see that no harm befell their 
darlings. The little ones played contentedly for some 
time, but finally Marjorie, the youngest, ventured too 
near the edge, and tumbled with a splash into the calm 

The parents sprang up and rushed to the wharf. But 
they were not quick enough. Waif, their beautiful 
Scotch collie dog, was before them. The noble animal 
jumped into the water, caught the neck of the child's 
dress in his mouth, and rescued her from a watery grave. 

Of course the dog was petted and made much of. He 

"a study from still life. by MARGERY BRADSHAW, ACE I5. 

loved candy, and a generous share was given to him, 
to his great delight. Marjorie was taken to the house, 
where she donned dry garments, and they thought that 
danger was over. 

But more was destined to follow. The next day the 
children went, as usual, to the wharf, with Mr. Lowell 
accompanying them. For a time all went well. Sud- 
denly, however, without a 
note of warning. Waif 
dashed into their midst and 
deliberately pushed one of 
the little girls over the edge. 
He immediately rescued her 
before the dazed gentleman 
could collect his scattered 
senses, and laid her at her 
father's feet. She was car- 
ried home at once, and the 
dog followed, crestfallen 
that his master did not pet 
him for his brave deed. He 
w^as given no candy that day, 
but received, instead, a se- 
vere scolding. This had the 

desired effect, for Waif never again attempted to gain 
extra pettings and portions of sweetmeats by that ruse. 



A FEW houses away from ours there lived a family 
who kept a fox-terrier named Gippy. He was clever 
and watchful, and every night would guard the house 
faithfully. One night he was wandering around the 
house, as usual, seeing if all was well. When he 
reached the dining-room a cloud of smoke rushed out 
and nearly suffocated him. He ran to his master's 
room (fortunately the door was open), jumped on his 
bed, and barked furiously. Soon the whole family was 
aroused, but not a moment too soon, as the flames were 
fast eating their way to the bedrooms. He had saved 
them all, and as a reward he wears a little gold medal 
on his collar with the following words engraved on it : 

" This dog, named Gippy, has saved a family from a 
sure death in the flames." 

Don't you think this was a dog hero? 



If you ever travel among the mountains of Corsica 
you may come upon the home of Fedele, a trusty dog 
who, by a curious coincidence, was named after that 
virtue which would later.-on render him famous and per- 
haps enable him to find a place in the pages of St. 

Fedele loved his master and the donkey Ferrajolo 
better than anything else. It was all through Ferrajolo 
that Fedele became a hero ; for, you see, Fedele was not 
ambitious : he did this noble 
action only because he loved 
his master and his friend, 
which makes it all the more 
lieautiful — at least, so it 
seems to me, but I am no 
judge. Let us continue. 

One day Fedele woke to 
find the house in great com- 
motion. Ferrajolo, the don- 
key, had disappeared. The 
servants searched every- 
where for him, but he could 
not be found. At tlie close 
of day matters stood the 
same as in the morning and 
the prospect was not encour- 




aging; but it was less ^ 
when the next day dawnt 
and Fedcle was gone al> 
The search was finally give i, 
up as liopeless, and when 
three days were gone by 
nobody thought of Kerrajo- 
lo and Kedele but to mourn 
for them, liut what do you 
think happened on the 
fourth day? Through the 
loggia came the dog, l-'edeK . 
and close on his heels tr' ' 
ted Fcrrajolo, with a rfi] 
tied round his neck ai 
hanging loose at iiis siile. 

When the rope was exam 
ined it was found that Tc- 
dele had gnawed it apart 
from another piece, which perhaps is still fastened to 
the place those thieves had selected as the most suita- 
ble for their purpose. 

My mother can answer for the truthfulness of this 
story, as at the age cf seven she became acquainted with 
both Fedele and Ferrajolo. 

N. B. In Italian FaiiU signifies faithful, Ferrajolo 
smith, loggia an open gallery. 



In our family once there was a black shepherd dog 
named the Dlack Prince. He was very handsome and 
lively, but the nicest thing about him was that he was 
a very kind dog. 

Whenever he heard a little child cry he would cry 
too, and would lick the child's hand. When visitors 
came to the house who had been kind to him, he would 
leap up with joy. 

He would try to keep the cross dogs away, but wel- 
comed the well-behaved dogs. 

He lived on the campus of Central University in 

One day he saw some of the college boys laughing 
together, and heard some distressed cries of one of his 
fellow-creatures. He ran to the rescue, and found the 
boys trying to tie a tin can to the stranger dog's tail. 

Prince attracted so much attention by his sympathy 
for the poor victim that the college boys captured liim 
instead, and tied the can on his tail, while his fellow- 
dog ran a\v.ay without even saying "thank you." 



In a pretty little village on Cape Cod there lived a 
parrot and a dog. The parrot, the pest of the neigh- 
borhood, was called Kaka- 

reeko, from the unknown 

word which he continuall) 

spoke. He was allowed to 

fly loose in the woods, one 

of his wings being cut, and 

often turned up in the most 

ridiculous places. The dog, 

who went by the name of 

Toby, was a white poodle, 

famous in the neighborhood 

for his swimming ability, 

sometimes following a smill .. ^ ,, it.t fok jl lv. ■ 

rowboat for hours. BARnouR, 

One day the parrot took 
I into his to fly out to 
^ea; but one of his wings 
I'eing clipped, it was not 
very strong, and at last the 
poor bird sank into the wa- 
ter exhausted. The poodle, 
l.ciwever, was near at hand, 
.end, wdien he saw his friend 
Ivakareeko drowning, he 
rushed to the rescue. When 
lie reached him, the excited 
liird jumped upon his back, 
and during the whole jour- 
ney homeward continued la 
>creech his name with great 
vehemence. On nearing the 
shore, the two were seen, 
and were immediately res- 
cued by a rowboat. Every one was delighted at the 
dog's bravery, but hardly so delighted at the result. 



In the year 13S1, the peasants of EngLand, little better 
than slaves, rose in rebellion against unjust taxation. 


AGE 16. 

The tax they most wished to escape was that levied 
on the head of each person above a certified age. Many 
of them had barely enough for the necessities of life 
and must starve if they complied. 

The collectors were brutal men, and one day one of 
them spoke insultingly to the daughter of one Wat 
Tyler, a blacksmith. 

The father, enraged, struck the man a blow with his 
hammer, killing him in- 
stantly. This deed was the 
spark which kindled the 
smoldering flame of discon- 
tent, and from that moment 
the peasants revolted. 
Forming themselves into a 
band with Tyler at their 
head, they marched toward 
the capital. 

London was not then 
■vliat it is now. One was 
not ot the "city" unless 
he dwelt within " Temple 




Bar." Outside that line, 
what is to-day part of the 
great thoroughfare was then 
an expanse of fair meadows. 

In one of these meadows, 
called Blackheath, the insur- 
rectionists made their camp, 
and, after destroying much 
life and property, sent a mes- 
sage desiring to see the king, 
Richard II, who was then a 
lad of sixteen. Though only 
a boy, he had a brave heart, 
and, accompanied by a few 
attendants, he set forth from 
the Tower (where he had 
taken refuge) to meet the 

When Richard arrived at 
Blackheath, Tyler stepped 
forward, grasped his bridle, 
and began to parley in such 
insolent terms that Walworth, 
Mayor of London, unable to 
contain his wrath, drew liis 
sword and struck the rebel 
leader dead. The populace, seein 


was instant death ; yet, rather 
than yield to his pursuers, 
he turned his horse's head 
toward the slope. Without 
a moment's delay the daring 
animal left the road, bounded 
on to the rocks, and, as chance 
would have it, escaped with 
himself and his brave rider 
wholly uninjured, while the 
British soldiers, dumfounded, 
halted at the roadside and 
dared not follow. 


their leader fall, 
prepared to take revenge, when the king, bidding his 
retainers remain behind, rode forward alone into their 

There was a moment of silence while Richard, with 
fearless countenance, began to speak. 

" Are ye angry at losing your leader, my good peo- 
ple? " he said. " I am your king: I will be your 

Overawed by his presence and gentle bearing, the 
mass wavered a moment, then lowered their weapons 
in submission. Richard asked their wish, and when 
they replied, " Freedom," granted it, and they dis- 
persed in peace. 

Poor Richard! His later life was sad enough! 
But whenever I think of that ileed I forget the man 
and see only the young king turning away the wrath 
of his people with a gentle hand and ruling them 
with love. 



There are many daring incidents recorded in the 
annals of our native land at the time when the thir- 
teen colonies, planted along the -Vtlantic, were strug- 
gling with might and main for liberty and indepen- 
dence. One that I es- 
pecially admire, and 
which remains a fine 
example of American 
courage, is Israel Put- 
nam's bold plunge 
down the rocky steep 
at Horse Neck. His 
men had been forced 
to retreat, the enemy 
were hard on his heels, 
and • there seemed to 
be no hope of escape. 
As he was racing along 
on his noble steed he 
saw on one side of the 
road a steep and rocky 
slope. Ten to one it 

ERVY, AGE 14. 


WiNSTED, Conn. 
Dear St. Nicholas : We 
have had our chapter, which 
is No. 622, one year now, and 
have taken in two new mem- 
bcrs, Mabel Girard ofWinsted J^'^V- bv annie good hutch- 


and Alice Cone of Hartford. Vt. 
At first we called our chapter "The 
Wild Rose Chapter," but we have 
now changed it to " The Rosa Na- 
tura Cliapter," which is the Latin 
for wild rose. 

On our anniversary night, which 
was January 27, we all met at our 
President's house, made candy and 
played games. We had a fine time. 
We meet every two weeks at the 
different members' houses, and en- 
joy our meetings very much. We 
are reading " A Comedy in Wax " 
aloud at the meetings and are very 
much interested in it. We are 
wondering how it will end. We 
have a paper which we call " The 
Mystical Gazette." It is read at 
the first meeting of every month, 
and consists of poems, stories, ad- 
vertisements, and local items. We 
all contribute something and great- 
ly enjoy hearing it read. We do 
not sign our own names toourcon- 
tributions, but have each taken a 
We were going to give a private entertainment this month and 
had decided to act " Deaf Uncle Zed" ; but one of our members has 
gone to Colorado, so we cannot carry out our plans, but we may find 
some other to act. Yours truly, 

Gladys Manchester, Secretary, 

FoKT Scott, Kan. 

Dkar St. Nicholas: I was visiting my aunt out in the Zuni 
Mountains, in New Me.vico, about a year ago, and I am going to 
tr>' to descnbc to you one of the most curious things I saw while I 
was there. 

My aunt's home was in a little mining camp called Copperton, 
just at the foot of "Tip Top " Mountain. One day we went on a 
picnic, and we started in the afternoon. We had to take plenty of 
provisions, as we were going to be gone several days. Toward 
the end of our journey we came to a large hole in the ground. Off 
of that there opened a smaller hole shaped like a cave. We could 
hear the wind blowing, and an icy cold breeze came out of it. I 
put my hand in it, but I had to take it out again very quickly, as it 
was so cold it would have frozen. Outside it was very warm and 
we could see nothing but sand. Hoping my letter is not too long, I 
remain, your loving reader, Margaret Penniman (age 11). 





Chicago, III. 

Dear St. Nicholas: This 
summer I am Roing to Niagara- 
on-the- Lake, Ontario, Canada, 
where I was last summer. It is 
directly opposite Fort Nbgara. 
where my jjrcat-grandfaiher was 
stationed dunng the War of 1812. 
You can imagine how interesting 
it is to see the place where one of 
my relatives was stationed. 

When ^ou print the Le;iguc 
Notes again, I would like t<> have 
a correspondent about my own 
age (16), who is interested in col- 
lecting postal cards. I have just 
started, and so far have just forty ; 
some are used and others are not. 

I hope I shall get a prize for 
either the picture or the story I 
sent in, as I have gotten on both 
Honor Rolls. 

I have a friend whoconesponds 
with Alleine Langford, who won 
a gold badge for verse in the April 

I am your devoted reader, 
tuiTti M. Anwkews 


Sawkiix, Pa. 
My dear St. Nicholas: 
The St. Nicholas League has 
proven to be just what thou- 
sands of bright boys and girls 
need in their homes. Of my 
own beautiful prizes. I can 
sny that I value them far 
more when I think of the 
weary months of waiting bc- 
f irc the glad news came at 
last that — I had won! In 
t!ie future I may win "greater 
and higher achievements," 
but still the happy mtrmo- 
lies of other days will come 
thronging tome — memories 

also wish to thank you again for 
the gold badge received last June. 
Every one who has seen it de- 
clares that it is a most beautiful 
fin, and I need not tell you that 
think exactly the same. 

I think I can safely say that 
it is the St. Nicholas League to 
which I am indebted, as much 
as anythinp else, for any im- 
provement in my picture.*;. The 
League's competitions brought 
me to understand that if I wished 
my work compared with others' 
I must make a great improve- 
ment in the character of it. 

Wishing you long life and suc- 
cess, and hoping others may be 
thus benefited, I remain 
Yours truly, 

John S. Perry. 

Other interesting and apprecia- 
tive letters have been received 
from Mary E. Ross, Phoebe Wil- 
kinson, Katharine Oliver, Berta 
Branch, Harrieite Kyler Pease, 
Harold G. Breul, MarionThomas, 
Anna Zuckcr, Frances Raymond, 
Kathcrine Lee, Dorothea M. Dexter, Louisa F. Spear, Charles 
M. Jackson, John V. S. Bloodgood, Alleine Langford, Laura Gar- 
din, Hazel Dixon, Fannie Crawford Golding, Lucile Dolman, A. 
Brownie Samsell, and H. J. Simons. 


No. I. A list of those whose contributions would have been used 
had space permitted. 

No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to Honorable 
mention and encouragement. 


" STllJ. LIFE.' 

ACE 16. 



of the pleasant hours spent in work- 
ing for the St. Nicholas Lea^e. 
Oh, if you only knew what we think, 
how we feet, when disappnintment 
comes month aftcrmonth, and at last, 
when the goal of our strug- 
gles is reached, we know 
that patience and persever- 
ance have taught us the 
well-known lesson, " It is 
worth while to keep on." 
I am \cry fond of poetry 
(my lovely badges and cash 
prize were awarded for 
that), and I think your 
poems are even better than 
your stories. I remember 
one of your verses that says, 

"Though tangled hard 
Life's knot may be. 
And wearily we rue it. 
The silent touch of Father Time 
Some day will sure undo it." 

Some days when it seems just as if everything goes wrong, I find 
that some lines just like those aic what is needed to "straighten 
things out." But I must stop chattcrinjj and say good-by now. I 
am sending a little Easter booklet, wishing every League member, 
too, the happiest of Easters. 

Your loving friend and appreciative reader, 

Mabel C. Stark. 

Washington, D. C. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I wish to extend toward you my sincere 
thanks for the pretty silver badge, received Saturday- I was most 
agreeably surprised, not expecting it anywhere near so soon. I 

Vol. XXXI.— 108. 


Doris Francklyn 
Mabel Fletcher 
Robert L. Wolf 
Florence Du Bois 
Emily Rose Burt 
Beulah H. Ridgeway 
Gladys Edgerton 
Edith J. Minaker 
Elizabeth McCormick 
Arthur Pcrring Howard 


Emmeline Bradshaw 

Ona Ringwood 

Lydia Starr Ferguson 
Gertr\ide I. Foils 
Helen Spear 
Marguerite Beatrice 

Natalie D. Wurts 
Robert E. Dundon 
Amalia E. Lautz 
Richard H, Phillips 
Mary Tr.-ivis Heward 
Juliette Gates 
Doris Neel 
Jacob Schmucker 
Clara P. Pond 


Mildred Andrus 
Emelyn Ten Eyck 
Corolyn BuUey 
Mary Van Wormcr 
Lucilc D. Woodling 
M.arguerite Weed 
Arthur K. Hulme 
Nathalie Mary Hensel 
Bernice Brown 
Emmet Russell 
Dorothy Carson 
Delia I'.llcn Champlin 
Let^ne Bashfield 
Catharine H. Straker 
Madeleine Fuller McDowell 
Kathenne Lee 
Harold R. Norris 
Gerald Jackson Pylc 
Adelaide Nichols 
Sophie Jacobson 
Coit U. Fanning 
Katharine Goetz 
Marguerite W. Watson 
Eugenie B. Baker 
Elizabeth Chase Burt 
Tracy M. Kugler 


Cyril B. Harpster 
Keiineih W. Payne 
Elsie F. Weil 
Helen W. Kennedy 
Alice R. De Ford 
Frances Lubbe Ross 
Betty Millet 
Frieda Hug 
Ivy Varian Walshe 
Altjc Ahrens 

Helen Mabry Boucher Bal- 
Beatrice Lang 
Emma L. Jones 
Edward Graeme Allen 
Janet E. Stevenson 
Marion Phelps 
Isabella McGhee Tyson 
Isabel D. Weaver 
Iftartha Olcott Willis 
Frances Renshaw Latike 




-ST mc^OLJ^S J_E/VC^L/E 

to h>_©^ 

He t/o-nv i 

yeA>-5. 1*^9*-, tke.<^ f. 



Ruth F. Eliot 
Phyllis M. Clarke 
Alice M. Perkins 
Carrie M. Vehlen 
Fern C. Patten 
Lucile Doty 
Eloise E. Garstin 
Theodore Posner 
Dorothy Stoddard 
Helen J. Simpson 
Daisy Errington 
^ Brettel 

Kathleen Seagraves 
Jeannie Read Samp- 
Mary Nimmons 
Bernard T. Ellis 
Elizabeth Parker 
Margeree W. Pitts 
Ethel Dickson 
Douglas L. Dunbar 
Ruth McBride 

Hamette E. Cushman Katharine Maude Mer- 
Kathanne G. Thomas riam 
Julia Ford Fiebeger Alpha H. Furley 
Jessie Robertson Mac- Melville C. Levey 

Stuart Crandall 
Helen F. Jones 
P. M. Shaw 
Dorothy C. King 
Clinton Brown 
Esther Cooke Cowell 
Walter C. Hoban 
Margaret Winthrop 

Eunice McGilvra 
Margaret Josenhans 
Alison L. Sirathy 
Mildred Scott 
Margaret S. Gamble 
Warford E. Rowland 
Grace F. Slack 
Edith Wallace Palmer 
Leland H. Lyon 
Margaret Rhodes 
Mary A. Woods 
Marcia Gardner 
Juliet Borden 
Marguerite Rutlege 
Hazel Elwell 
Marion Decker 
William C. Engle 
Julian Tilton 
Mary Cooper 
Margaret B. Richard- 
Jeannette Ir\'in 
Ridgely Marshall 
Marguerite Jervis 
John Sinclair 

Harold F. Elliott 

Isobel H. Blackadcr 
Samuel Merrill Foster Constance Ellen Whit- Donald W. Campbell 
Chester T. Swinnerton ten Henry Wickenden 

William Barton Marsh Fred Graham Catherine Leland 

Sidney Moise Robert McGregor 

DRAWINGS I. Jacob Bacon Gladys Bigelow 

James Rowland Joiner 
Margaret A. Dobson 
Nancy Huntly 
Robert E. Andrews 
J. H. Daugherty 
John D. Butler 
Josephine J. Cooke 
Eleanor Mason 
Ruth Jenkins 
Isabella Holt 
Lena Towsley 
Harold Breul 
Helen L. Wilson 
M. McKeon 
Herbert Martini 
Miles S. Gates 
Philip Little 
Margaret Wrong 

AGE lO. 

Dorothy Elizabeth 

Sarah Brown 
Catherine Flint 
Alice du Pont 
Albert T. Case 
George Warren Brett 
Jean Ellerlie 
Hilda M. Ryan 
Annie Dunlap 
Katrina Van Dyck 
I>orothy Gardiner 


Elizabeth Bacon 

Ida Waters 
Hugh Spencer 
Meade Bolton 
Cordner H. Smith 
Mildred C- Jones 
Maisie Smith 
Gretchen Neuburger 
Minnie Gwyn 

'still life. by marjorie new- 
comb WILSON, AGE 12. 

Bertha V. Emmerson 
Charles J. Novey 
Ruth Caldwell 
Will Herrick 
Carolyn Fisher 

Helen D. Huntington 
Vernon M. Dodge 
Alice Wangenheim 
James Benedict 
Eric Ferguson 

Madeleine H. Webster Caroline Latzke 

Hazel Rotholz 
Emily N- Steuart 
Evelyn Wilcox 
Susan J. Appleton 
Francis Leeming 
Harding Wilcox 
Frances Brookman 
Charles Greenman 
Agnes Lee Bryant 
Lucile Dolman 
Fannie J. Frank 
Laura Portmann 
George S. White 

Genevieve A. Ledger- Walter Burton Nourse 
wood Vieva Marie Fisher 

Anna Skidmore Benjamin Hasselman 

Margaret Spence 

Charlotte Waugh 

Doretta Oppenheim 

Carl Lohse 

Maijorie Verschoyle 

Fannie Crawford Gold- Ethel Irwin 

ing Edward Poppert 

Wesley R. De Lappe Sidney Edward Dick- 
Bessie Townley Grif- enson 

Horatio Raymond 
John R. Boyle 
Dorothy Decker 
Charlotte St. George 

Dorothy Holt 
H. Walter Blumenthal 
Carolyn Hutchings 
Laurence De Can 
Irving L. Beach 
Mildred Wheat 
James Barrett 
Elizabeth Fishblate 
Queenabelle Smith 
Marguerite McCor- 

Louis Hastings 
Winifred Jones 
Julia E. Halleck 
Charles Cohen 
Elinor Colby 
Paul M. Brunig 
Herbert W. Landau 
Alma Elllingson 
Emily W. Browne 
John A. Helwig 
Evelyn Oliver Foster 


C. L. Barnwell 
F. Scholle 
Louise Van Dyck 
R. Dana Skinner 
Mary W. Woodman 
Adelaide Glllis 
Ruth P. Brown 
Elsa Hempl 
Freda Phillips 
Rosalie Day 
Philip A. Burton 
Frank W. Reynolds 
John Gatch 
Harold Madman 
Roger S. Hoar 
Donald Jackson 
Dorothy Arnold 


J. Arthur Richardson 
Samuel D. Robbins 
Charlotte Spence 
Herbert H. Bell 
Florence R. T. Smith 
Drayton Burrill 
Edith M. Andrews 
Margaret Scott 
Canema Bowers 
Elizabeth Morrison 
Helen Schmidt 
Dorothy C. Saunders 
H. J. Simons 
Edith M. Gates 
Floyd Godfrey 
Alice Walton 
Margaret Boyd Cope- 
Karl M. Mann 
Bonner Pennybacker 
Morrison N. Stiles 
Alec B Morris 
Frank Damrosch, Jr. 
Harold K. SchofF 
Florence Short 
Helen Le Roy Miller 
Henry B. Duncan, Jr 
Aubrey Huston 

Kathleen Bertrand 
Stella J. Underhill 
Dan Heald 
William D. Stroud 
Marguerite Hunt 
Alice Garland 
Olive A. Granger 
Donald F. Cranor 
Elsie Wormser 
Benjamin D. Hitz 
H. Ernest Bell 
Paul Wormser 
Gertrude M. Howland 
Margaret W. Colgate 
Madeleine Harding 
Vincent M. Ward 
Josephine W. Pitman 
Mildred Francis 
Kenneth Tapscott 
O. R. Turner 
Mary Louise Russell 
Gladys Summerhays 
Abraham Weintraub 
Charles S. Smith 
Archibald S. Mac- 

Marjorie Martin 

Fred W. Bell 


Samuel Loveman 
Maurice Bejach 
Oscar C. Lautz 
Charles W. Hubbard, 
Florence Doane [Jr. 
Nellie C. Dodd 
Gretchen Neuburger 
Janet Rankin 
Elizabeth Berry 
Hazel Di.von 
Francis Bassctt 
E. Adelaide Hahn 
Gerald Smith 
Benjamin L. Miller 
W. G. Curran 
Sybil X. Basford 
Elsie Kimall Wells 


Alice Knowles 
Donn W. Pittman 
T. S. Barnes 
Elizabeth Burrage 
Rebecca Chilcott 
Anna Michener 
Carrie Gordon 
Mary Ross 
Kenneth Simpson 

Sometimes it hap- 
pens that names are 
printed incorrectly 
on the Roll of Hon- 
or. Usually this 
comes from the 
names being badly 
written on the con- 
tribution. Every 
name should be 
written or printed 
ver>' plainly. 


Helen Stevens 
Muriel Ivinney 
Helena B. Pfeifer 
Robert W. Foulke 
Zena Parker 

William Hays Ballard Marion K. Cott 
Dorothy P. Phillips Florence Webster 

Edith A. Jordan 
Hermann Louis Schaf- 

Lauren Ford 
Bessie R. Wright 
Felix Nicola Gayton 
Louise Gleason 
W. Earle Fisher 





, 23*>- " K. w- B." Hattie Carmichacl, President: Mar>- 
Foley, becretary : six members. Address, Pembroke, Hants Co., 
N. S., Canada. 

No. 737. "C. D. M." Harvey Deschcre.Secreury; two mem- 
bers. Address, 334 West 58th St., New York City. 

No. 738. "Jolly Six." Grace Bralcy, President: Alice Cent.-, 
Secretary: six members. Address, Hartford, Vl. 

No. 739. Robert Burtt, President: Mercy Waterman, Secre- 
tary: fifteen members. Address, P. O. Box 6. North Paterson, N.J. 

No. 740. "The Lyric" Walter Mulvihill, President; Walter 
Baur, Secretary: six members. Address, Clifton Sprin^js, N. Y. 

No. 741. "T. H. S." I.cah Van Ryser, Secretar>'; six members. 
Address, 5533 Cabanne Ave., St. Louis, Mo. 

No. 742. "Nature and Science." Gail Bridges, President: 
Agnes Peterson, Secretary : four members. Address, 1343 Roach 
St., N. Indianapolis. Ind. 

No. 743. "St. Nicholas League Chapter." Charlotte Nim- 
mons. President: Wanda Warrens, Secretary: fourteen members. 
Address, Chippewa Falls, Wis. 

No. 744- Anthony C. Bennett, President: Charles A. Roth, Sec- 
retary: number of members not given. Address, 142 Bradhurst 
Ave., New York Citj-. 

No. 745. " -Miskodeed." Irene Farnham, President: Mabel 
Hooper, Secretary: seven members. Address, Laurium, Mich. 

No. 746. Josephine McMartin, President: Marion Decker, Sec- 
retir>' ; three members. Address, Johnstown, N. Y. 

No. 747. " St. Gabriel's Chapter." Florence Slocum, President : 
Doris Nee, Secretary ; sixteen members. Address, St. Gabriel's 
School, Peekskill, N^ Y. 

No. 748. " Little St. Nick Club." Alma Rothschild, Secretary: 
five members. Address, 69 East 84th St., New York City. 

No. 749. " Etjo Lued Yaz6." Edith Mansell, President : Ethel 
McDowell, Secretary : six members. Address, Mount Pleasant, 

No. 750. "T. T. T." Marion O. Chapin, President; Eleanor 
R. Chnpin, Secretary ; five members. Address, 76 Porter Place, 
Montclair, N. J. 

No. 751. Frances Rhoades, President: seven members. Ad- 
dress, 333 W. Eighth Ave, Colum- 
bus, Ohio, 

NO. 58. 

The St. Nicholas League 
awards gold and silver 
badges each month for the 
best poems, stories, draw- 
ings, photographs, puzzles, 
and puzzle-answers. Also 
cash prizes of five dollars 
each to gold-badge winners 
who shall again win fir-* 

Competition No. 58 will 
close July 20 (for foreign 
memlxrs Jijy 25). The 
awards will be announced 
and prizeconlributions pub- 
lished in St. Nicholas for 

Verse. To contain not 
more than twenty-four lines. 
Title : to contain the word 

Prose. Article or story of not more than four hun- 
dred words to relate "When Grandmother (or Grand- 
father) went to School." 

Photograph. Any size, interior or exterior, mounted 
or unmounted, no blue prints or negatives. Subject, 
"The Old House." 

Drawing. India ink, very black writ- 
ing-ink, or wash (not color), interior or 
exterior. Two subjects, " A Landscape 
Study" and "A Heading or Tailpiece 
for October." 

Puzzle. Any sort, but must be ac- 
companied 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 indorsctl. 

Wild Animal or Bird 
Photograph. To encour- 
age the pursuing of game 
with a camera instead of a 
gun. For the best photo- 
graph of a wild animal or 
bird taken ;« its tiatiiral 
homi : First Prize, five dol- 
I.trs and League gold badge. 
Second Prize, three dollars 
and League gold badge. 
Third Prize, League gold 


.\.NY reader of St. Nich- 

1 .\s, whether a subscriber 
' T not, is entitled to League 
membership, and a League 
badge and leaflet, which 
will be sent on application. 

Every contribution, of 
whatever kind, vnist bear 
the name, age, and address 
of the sender, and be in- 
by p.arent, teacher, or guardian, 

'oubt that the contribution 




dorsed as "original 

ivho must be convinced beyond di 

is not copied, but wholly the work and idea of the sender. 

If prose, the number of words should also be added. 

These things must not be on a separate sheet, but on 
the contribution itself— \l a manuscript, 
on the upper margin ; if a picture, on the 
tnargin 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 : 



AGE 7. 

The St. Nicholas League, 

Union Square, New York. 


A coRRESPON- A LADY who has shown 
DENT'S QUESTION, especial interest in this de- 
partment suggests this question : " If you were 
going to camp out for a while in the woods, 
and could take but one book for amusement, a 
book you had read before, which one would you 
select, and why ? " Probably it is her idea that 
a book to be read under these circumstances 
would be one of excellent quality and one sure 
to be worth the trouble. 

THE MEANING OF It is casy to Icam from 
"VACATION." the dictionary that our En- 
glish word "vacation" comes from the Latin 
" vaco," to be empty ; but when one tries to go 
farther back to find the origin of the word, he 
soon finds himself stopped by the simple state- 
ment, " root " unknown. It seems to belong to 
a family of words of which some members are 
familiar — the adjective " vague" and the noun 
" vagabond " may be relatives, the verb " wag " 
also. The general idea back of all of them 
seems to be, to wander, to leave the regular, 
straight path, and to make little excursions here 
and there without a constant object. If this is 
correct, a vacation should be given up to a 
change from your regular pursuits, even in read- 
ing, which may be taken as a hint to leave the 
well-trodden paths in Bookland, and seek fornew 
regions in that ever-delightful country. Perhaps 
you and your friends have been on differing tours, 
and might exchange experiences to advantage. 
Books of travel, espe- 
'cially the stories of the great 
explorers, will be found to have an outdoor at- 
mosphere especially suited to the vacation days. 
Livingstone's great missionary journeys, alone 
in Africa, are especially good ; and Stanley's, 
while more adventurous, are likewise excellent 
reading. If the warm days incline you to the 
Arctic regions, you will be glad to know more 
of Dr. Kane, of Dr. Hall, of Tyson, of Pear}', 
of Nansen, and of d' Abruzzi. No boy who likes 
stories of adventure, daring, and hardship can 
find better stories than these trite stories told 
in the books by and about these men. 



It would have to be an 
extraordinary book of which 
you would say, " I 'd give my eyes to read that 
book ! " And yet in reading poor books, poorly 
printed on poor paper with blurred type, it is 
certainly true that you are paying with some of 
your eyesight for each page you read. This is a 
matter in which parents and teachers should be 
on their guard in the cases where young readers 
may be careless. But St. Nicholas boys and 
girls ought to be wise in this matter for their own 
sake. Your eyes are too valuable to be blunted 
on dull books. Refuse to read poorly printed 
books, and publishers will bring out good 
ones. They must follow the taste of readers, 
and in books for young people they must fol- 
low the taste of young readers. So it is a mat- 
ter you have under your own control. 

BOOKS FOR Excluding the books 

GIRLS. ti,2t every one knows about, 

who will send a list of the best books for girls 
of from eight to fourteen years of age ? They 
need not necessarily be about girls, but should 
be such as will be attractive and helpful. We 
should be glad to have the help of our girl- 
readers in making up a list of the recent books 
best suited for their libraries. Tell what the 
books are, and why you recommend them. 

DO YOUNG ■^^'E '^°"'^ ^'' gl^'^ t° 

READERS ENJOY hear from our young read- 
POETRY? gfg ^vhether they do or do 

not enjoy poetry. Do they make the work of 
poets part of their " reading for pleasure " ? It is 
to be supposed that all of you know some favor- 
ite poems, or like occasionally to hear poems 
read aloud; but how many of you choose a 
volume of Longfellow or Lowell, Bryant or 
Whittier, when in quest of " something to 
read " ? 

Letters come to this department telling of 
books read, and containing lists of favorite vol- 
umes. Poems are mentioned, now and then : 
but it would be interesting to know your frank 
opinions as to whether you find poetry enter- 
taining, or always prefer a good book in prose. 




THE COST OF No cloubt many of you 

A COMMA. have heard of that odd 
genius Sir Timothy Dexter — the one who made 
a fortune by sending a cargo of warming-pans 
to the West Indies. He was impatient about 
punctuation, and at the end of one of his books 
printed several pages full of punctuation-points, 
telling his readers they could " pepper and salt 
the books as they chose " ! He would not have 
been a good lawmaker. A law was drawn up 
in this country admitting free of duty " all for- 
eign fruit-plants," etc. The clerk who copied 
it changed the hyphen to a comma, thus, " all 
foreign fruit, plants," etc., and the original law 
was so written when passed by Congress. Un- 
til Congress met to change the law, foreign 
fruits came in free, and the Government lost 
some $2,000,000. The story is told in an article 
printed some time ago in the "Outlook." If 
the facts are correct, this is probably the most 
expensive comma in history. 

A GUIDE-BOOK As soon as you think you 
TO BOOKS. are old enough, get for 
yourself some good handbook, manual, or primer 
of English literature, and make use of it to in- 
form yourself about the books you read. This 
will help to place them in their true relations to 
one another. A good encyclopedia rightly used 
will serve nearly as well. Just as a guide-book 
is useful both to tell about places you see and 
also to suggest new trips, so in the manual of 
literature you will have glimpses of new fields 
of reading, possibly of such a nature as will 
please you better than those more familiar. 

We shall be glad to hear from our readers 
what books of this sort they can recommend. 
For young readers the smaller books are prob- 
ably the most suitable. There are many books 
that naturally belong together, and each helps 
the reader to appreciate the other; and the 
manuals help to find these. 

THREE WAYS OF ^^ .>°" g° ''^''""g^^ l'*"^' 

MAKING YOUR you wiU get books now and 
LIBRARY. then, and your library will 
be in constant growth if you take care of it. 
There are three ways in which you may guide 
the growth of your home collection of books : 
1. You may collect everything — that is inclu- 
siveness. 2. You may collect a little on each 

of many subjects — that is selection. 3. You 
may collect all you can find on some one sub- 
ject — that is specialization. So says the presi- 
dent of a Massachusetts library society. But 
for young readers it will no doubt be wisest to 
be a follower of the second method, that of 
selection. When you are sure of your taste it 
will be time enough to si)ecialize. 

For a young reader almost the worst plan 
nowadays is the first. It is impossible to read 
everything that comes in your way; and it is 
a very fortunate thing this is so. 

JEFFERSON'S Thomas Jefferson was 

TEN RULES. the author of the well-known 
saying about counting ten before speaking in 
anger ; it is one of ten rules he drew up for his 
own guidance. They are not often printed, and 
some of our readers may be glad to see them : 

I. Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to- 
day. 2. Never trouble another for what you can do 
yourself. 3. Never spend your money before you have 
it. 4. Never buy what you do not want because it is 
cheap; it will be dear to you. 5. Pride costs us more 
than hunger, thirst, and cold. 6. We never repent of 
having eaten too little. 7. Nothing is troublesome that 
we do willingly. 8. How much pain have cost us the 
evils which have never happened! 9. Take things 
always by the smooth handle. 10. When angry count 
ten before you speak ; if very angry, a hundred. 

"BRUNO," "CARLO.'- We should be glad to 

AND THE REST, p^nt in this department a 

very excellent though brief article of, say, 300 

words about some of the favorite dogs told 

of in good books. There will be no prize 

offered for this article beyond the honor of 

having it printed. Send it in before the end 

of August, please. Many great authors have 

loved dogs and written delightfully about 

them. Let us know about the praise of dogs 

by great authors. By the way, did Shakspere 

say anything concerning dogs ? 

"TABLE OF CON- T^LL "s the difference 

TENTS" AND between "Table of Con- 

"iNDEX." j^^jg.. j^„^ "Index," and 

let us know what is the purpose of each. Some 
people use these interchangeably. Do they 
sometimes resemble one another ? It is said 
that this is one of the topics explained in lec- 
tures to school-children, and we should be glad to 
have the views of St. Nicholas readers upon it. 


Vacherie, La. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am a little girl nine years 
old. I live on a sugar plantation in Louisiana. I have 
just begun to take St. Nicholas, and like it very 

I am going to try for one of the League prizes ne.xt 
month, and I hope to get it. Your interested reader, 

Heloise Patout. 

New Haven, Conn. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I am a little girl eleven years 
old. I have a dear little fox-terrier puppy. Her name 
is Peggy. She is brown and white, with a little black 
nose. She and my cat, named Betty, both eat out of the 
same saucer. We had an African parrot, but we sold him, 
and also two alligators ; they died. We have another 
dog, named Happy. In the summer I live at the shore, 
and have plenty of box-turtles. I must close my letter 
now. Your devoted reader, 

Marion Reynolds. 

Lansdowne, Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Perhaps some of the readers 
of the St. Nicholas would be interested to hear about 
my black kitten. He is the prettiest kitten I have ever 
seen, but he is quite big now. He sleeps a gootl deal of 
the time, but he is very playful when auake. He comes 
into the parlor and plays with the curtain. Then he sits 
on a chair, and I pull the curtain up, and he bites at it. I 
am very fond of him, more than are the others in the 
family. I think he likes me best, too, for 1 pet him a 
good deal. I enjoy the St. NICHOLAS, and am always 
glad when it comes. My cousin Willie borrows it, and 
he, too, is glad when it comes. I fear I am making my 
letter too long, and, hoping St. Nicholas will never 
cease, I say good-by. 

I am, your affectionate reader, 

Esther H. Alden (age lo). 

Corona, Cal. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I have not taken you quite a 
year yet, but just lately became a member. I enjoy you 
very much. I am so anxious for you each month ! I 
like the stories that others write very much ; so as I 
have not seen any from here, I thought 1 would tell 
you about my vacation. 

Last year our school closed June 5, and in about three 
weeks we went to the great summer and winter resort, 
Coronado Beach. I had a nice time playing in the 

We visited different places of interest while there. 
One thing I enjoyed most was the Japanese Tea Garden. 
I had teased mama to let me ride the burros ; so one day 
she consented, and we went to the stable and hired a 
couple. Mama's burro's name was Teddy Roosevelt, 
and mine was Aunt Jane. We had to go up a hill, and 
Teddy balked. About that time a street-car came along 
and frightened me, so we took our burros to the barn, 
to ride no more. They had such a nice swimming-pool 
for children that I did not go bathing in the ocean. 

I will now tell you about my pets. I have a dear little 
kitten. Sometimes I dress it up in my doll clothes. It 
looks too cute! It is very playful. I call it Sixy, be- 
cause it has six toes on each foot, instead of four. I have 
a pug dog. His name is Wrinkle. He knows a few 
tricks, and will perform for some candy. 

Your loving reader. 

Tone Casey. 

Interesting letters, which the lack of space prevents our 
printing, have also been received from Susan Talmage, 
Margaret Gaillard, Grace Homey, Virginia Howard 
Sothern, Doris Taylor, Howard Webster, Olive Burns. 


Huntington, L. I. 

My dear St. Nicholas: Though I have been 
one of your warmest friends for three years, I 
have never aspired before to the honor of seeing 
my letter printed in the Letter-box. 

I have a little brother two years old ; he al- 
ways likes to get hold of you and tear your covers 

I also have a large tiger-cat, who sleeps most 
of the time. 

We have thirteen little chickens 

You were a present to me by a 
dear aunt of mine. I like the " Com- 
edy in Wax " very much. 

I enjoy the letters in your dear old 
Letter-box very much. 

Believe me, dear St. Nicholas, 
one of your many Long Island 

Dorothy Chase. 







Double Cross-word Enigma. Horse, came). 

Connected Diamonds. I. i. N. a. Net. 3. Never. 4. Ten. 
5. R. II. I. R. J. Pit. 3. River. 4. Te.i. 5. R. HI. i. R. 
J. Nut. 3. Rumor. 4. Top. 5. R. IV. i. R. 2. Tot. 3. Roger. 
4. Ted. 5. R. V. 1. R. 2. Pot. 3. Robin. 4. Tin. 5. N. 

Double Diagonal. Whittier, Channing. Cross-words: i. 
Wavering. 2. Thinking. 3. Spinning. 4. Partners. 5. Coun- 
ters. 6. Clannish. 7. Charades. 8. Cavalier. 

An Arab Man is four. The man who knows not and 
knows not he knows not, he is a fool — shun him. The man who 
knows not and knows he knows not, he is simple — teach him. The 
man who knows and knows not he knows, he is asleep — waken him. 
The man whoknows and knows that he knows, he is wise — follow him. 

Cube and Inclosed Solid Square. From i to 2, Baltimore; 
I to 3, Bethlehem; 2 to 4, Euphrates; 3 to 4, moonbeams; 5 to 6, 
clearness; 5 to 7, Caribbean; 6 to 8, sagacious ; 7 to 8, n.ircissus. 
Central words; 1. Clear. 2. Akkra. 3. Remit. 4. Issue. 5. 

Beheadings and Curtailings. St. Nicholas, i. Fe-stoo-ny, 
soot. 2. Rc-peat-er, tape. 3. Ro-tun-da, nut. 4. Pu-ni-sh, in. 
5. Ci-rcul-ar, curl. 6. Xi-pho-id, hup. 7. So-loi-st, oil. 8. Po- 
lari-ze, liar. 9. Ca-ram-cl, arm. 10. Tr-cas-on, sea. 

Double Zigzag. From i to 10, Washington; 11 to 20, St. 
Nicholas. Cross-words: 1. Warrants. 2. Manumits. 3. Designed. 
4. Machines. 5. Grimaces. 6. Unearths. 7. Gratiano. 8. Stu- 
pidly. 9. Stoppage. 10. Mainsail. 

To our Puzzlers: .\nswers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and 
should be addressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the Atril Numbkk were received, before April i^th, from Marian A. Smith — Grace Harcn — 
" Chuck " — Nessie and Freddie — Joe Cariada — Doris, Jean, and Ernest — *' Allil and Adi " — Jo and I — " St. Gabriel's Chapter. " 

Answers to Puzzles in the April Number were received, before April 15th, from M. L. Stout, i — F. S. Rice, i — A. P. Keas- 
bey. I — .Maria and Mercedes, i — F. M. Webster, i — E. Moses, ■ — P. B. McCoy, i — M. J. Ovcrbeck, Jr., i — M. Walker, I— G. 
B. West, 1 — Erma B. Mijtson, 2 — E. B. Whiltcmore, I — E. Jordan, i — H. E. Elwell, i — M. Armatage. i —"Beany and Hans," 7 — 
A. Michencr, l — M. Bunyan, i — H. B. Kell, i — .-X . and T. Elkinton, i — Bibicha Dalbey, i — V. S. Flad, 1 — Eleanor Wyman. 9 — 
H. Godwin, i — " Teddy and Mower," 9— A. B. T.. Win-lon-S.iIem, i — G. Gerson, i — R. Garland, i — M. M. Thicriol, i — N. 
Denison, I — E. D. Fanning, 1 — " Rodum and Maddic," 6 — D. Clarke, i — C. E. Hodge, Jr, i — Harriet Bingaman, 7 — F. Barkan, 1 
— A. Fricder, i — S. J. Lawcllin, i — Robert Hammcrslough, 4 — K. Roovaart, i — Helen and Evelyn Patch and Mother, 9 — B. F. 
Campbell, i — A. Michel, i — M. .Alderson. i — Margaret C Wilby, 8 — Louise Fitz, 8 — R. Alexander, i — Fredcrica R. and Lawrence 
M. Mead, 6 — Paul Deschere, 9 — Walter F. Cook, 3 — C. C. and F. H. Anthony, 9 — W. A. Lang, i — Bessie S, Gallup, 7 — M. S. 
Huntington, 1 — E. W. Palmer, i — G. H. Willi:ims, Jr., I— P. Twitchcll, i— L M. Gnswold, i— Edmund P. Shaw, 2 — Mary R. 
Adam, 9 — E. Taylor, i. 


(Silver Biiiige, St. Nicholas League Competition.) 

My firsts are in flower, but not in tree ; 
My sfcmids, in soldier, but not in free ; 
My thirds are in sunrise, but not in day; 
tAy fourt/is, in October, but not in May; 
My fifths are in watchman, but not in gun ; 
My sixths are in earth, but not in sun; 
My sevenths^ in mona.stery, not in bell ; 
My eighths, in confess, but not in tell ; 
My ninths are in junk, but not in shop; 
My tenths are in prude, but not in fop; 
My elevenths, in library, but not in book; 
My twelfths are in yeast, but not in cook; 
My wholes both delight Young America. 

M.ARIE B. TOW.NSEND (age 7). 


(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition.) 

The following words (of unequal length) are the 
names of famous men. When rightly guessed and writ- 
ten one below another, one of the rows of letters, read- 
ing downward, will spell the name of the man who 
" laid the foundation of all that is noble and beautiful 
and useful in the history of the Middle Ages." 

Cross-words: i. A famous writer of the Eliza- 
bethan age. 2. The great prophet of the .\rabs. 3. A 
famous Greek philosopher. 4. The reputed founder of 
the Russian monarchy. 5. A celebrated Roman gen- 

eral and dictator. 6. A celebrated English poet of the 
sixteenth century. 7. An ancient poet whose birthplace 
is claimed by seven cities. 8. An English naval hero of 
the sixteenth century. 9. The discoverer of the Philip- 
pine Islands. 10. A celebrated Florentine poet. 11. 
The son of Philip of Macedon. jk.nnie milliken. 


All the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When these have been rightly guessed and writ- 
ten one below another, the zigzag (beginning with the 
upper left-hand letter and ending with the lower left- 
hand letter) will spell a famous holiilay. 

Cross-words: i. The act of igniting. 2. Rare. 3. 
To wave. 4. Saluting. 5. Received with favor. 6. .A 
inisliap. 7. Destitute of knowledge. 8. A fish resem- 
bling the herring. 9. A large wooden platter. 10. 
Uncertainty. 11. Stiffened in process of laundering. 
12. Liberal. 13. Any substance administered in the 
treatment of disease. 14. An unmarried man. 15. 
Juvenile. ELEANOR Marvin (League Member). 


JAy first was noted for capacity. 
And busy numbers fill my last; 

My whole records, with due; veracity. 
The dusty annals of the past. 






My prinials spell the name of a great poet and my 
finals spell one of his plays.- 

Cross-words : i. A reflection. 2. One of the books 
of the Bible. 3. Motion. 4. The rank below that of 
baronet. 5. Undivided. 6. More deliberate. 7. Parts 
of a flower. 8. To enrol!. 9. A continent. 10. To 
take a reverse motion. II. A continent. 



{Silver BadgCy St Nn hnl.i'; League Competition.) 

Start at a certain letter in the bottom line, proceed 
in any diagonal direction, and spell 

1. The date of a great celebration. 

2. What it commemorates. 

3. The name of a great general connected with it. 

4. The name of a man from Virginia who made the 
motion in Congress. 

Begin at a certain letter in the top line, proceed in any 
diagonal direction, and spell 

5. The name of the man from Massachusetts who sec- 
onded the motion. 

6. The surname of the man who wrote a famous 

7. The name of the man who first signed it. 

Each letter is to be used but once. From E in the 
bottom line one could go to E or C, but not to \V, A, 


The middle letter changing here 
Will make these transformations clear. 

A lazy man becomes a fish ; 
A boat an emblem, if you wish. 
Twelve dozen you will find ere long 
A meadow growth so fresh and strong. 
And this salt-peter all can see 
Becomes a flowing river free. « 
The sandy shore will make a seat ; 
.•\ leader's staff is changed to meat. 
A germ becomes a steeple high ; 
A company, a little pie. 
And next, in place of warmth or zeal. 
You '11 find metallic plates of steel. 

10. A bet was made, or so 't is said ; 
Now 't is a cake most thin instead. 

11. A box for tea, of tin or wood. 

Is changed to something sweet and good. 

12. And heavy breathing you will find 
Proves a sad thing to feathered kind. 



M\ frst is a letter small. 

Though 't is very commonly used; 

My second, a kind of animal ; 

(When you guess it you '11 be amused!) 

My third you do when your tea 's too warm, 

And you s/toiild,vihen you drink iced tea ; 

yiy fourth is an article, short in form ; 

One more hint and you '11 have the key : 

Myji/th is a verb we employ — 

Some writers, instead, say " eschew." 

My -whole means — mark well, every boy ! — 

Liberty ! Guess me, now do. 

NAN REARDEN (League Member). 


(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition.) 

* » # » 

» * » # 

I. Upper Left-hand Square : i. To confuse. 
2. Salty. 3. Pointed. 4. To scoff. 5. A mythical 

II. Upper Right-hand Square: i. A place of sacri- 
fice. 2. Huge. 3. A narrow path. 4. Nimble. 5. 
To let again. 

III. C£NTR.\l Square: i. That which abates. 2. 
To scold. 3. Rightly. 4. A peculiar combination of 
pulleys. 5. A negro. 6. Taps again. 

IV. Lower Left-hand Square: i. Starwort. 2. 
Gave light. 3. Garments worn by ancient Romans. 

4. To decree. 5. Reposes. 

V. Lower Right-hand Square : i. Auctions. 2. 
Lessen. 3. A machine for turning. 4. An anesthetic. 

5. Prophets. L. ARNOLD POST. 


My Jirsts are in fife, but not in drum ; 
My seconds, m onion, but not in plum; 
My thirds, in absurd, but not in false ; 
My fourths are in lancers, but not in waltz ; 
My fifths, in participle, not in noun ; 
My sixths are in feathers, but not in down ; 
My sevenths, in Slavonic, but not in Flemish; 
My eighths, in defect, but not in blemish ; 
My ninths are in jerk, but not in twitch; 
My tenths are in opulent, not in rich ; 
My ele-i'enths, in recollect, not in know ; 
My huelfths are in yeast, but not in dough ; 
My wholes are three things that belong to July '• 
I am sure you can guess them, if only you '11 try. 
MARION THOMAS (Winner of a Gold Badge). 




{;' Elinor AnUn," page 8bS.) 


Vol. XXXI. 

AUGUST, 1904. 

No. 10. 


Mmmmh Bm!m,\skMmm. 


Ch.M'IEK I. 

for the cluirch ! 

" For God ' for the cause ! 
for the laws ! 
For Charles, King of England, and Rupert 
of the Rhine ! " 

and loyalty to tlie people. On the one liand, 
these brave CavaHers, in tlieir velvet and lace, 
with their plumed hats and flowing love-locks, 
sided with King Charles. On the other, the 
Puritans, or Roundheads, — so their enemies 
called them, — with their close-cut hair and 
their sober dress, stood boldly for liberty of 
These words echo the battle-cry of the old conscience and the rights of a free nation. 
Cavaliers, who proved their valor on every " Giants in heart they were, who believed in 
hotly contested field through the long strife be- God and the Bible." Fighting nobly for tlie 
tween king and I'arliament. cause they loved, they won at last the victory. 

When, in the summer of 1642, the royal stan- In those days there lived in Kent, not many 
dard was raised at Nottingham, nobles of the miles from Canterbury, a little girl who had 
court and gallant gentlemen, the very flower of found her share of trouble in the fortunes of 
English chivalry, obeyed the call to arms. It war. Elinor Arden had come to a Puritan 
was the time of the rebellion, and men were home, but she herself was a Royalist maiden, 
forced to choose between loyalty to the king When she was still very young, poor Elinor was 

Copyright, 1904, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 




left motherless ; and as she had neither brothers 
nor sisters, she was the only pet and darling of 
her father. In fact, she was the darling of 
every one, the household servants, the tenants, 
and the children of the village nearby; all loved 
this tiny lady of the manor, so that she was like 
a little queen among her faithful subjects. 

In the first month of the war, Geoffrey Arden 
bade farewell to his nine-year-old daughter, and 
rode away to join the army of the Cavahers. 
As time went on, danger began to threaten that 
part of the country where Elinor lived. The 
manor-house was no longer considered a safe 
home, so she was put under the protection of 
her father's friends, Lord and Lady Lyndhurst, 
who gladly welcomed the child to the shelter of 
their castle. In after days Elinor often thought 
of Lyndhurst Castle as if it had been a fairy 
palace. There she was treated as a pet. She 
had but few lessons, and a great deal of time 
in which to amuse herself in whate\er way she 

One day her father, at the head of a band of 
horsemen, came to the castle on purpose to see 
his little daughter. She never forgot that visit. 
In the evening they had a long talk together, 
and he told her stories of his adventures in the 
war. She listened, perched on his knee, all the 
time holding his wide-brimmed felt hat, with its 
long plume and shining buckle. The child 
loved beautiful things, and from the first this 
buckle had caught her fancy. It was a wreath 
of gold, encircling a cluster of precious stones, 
and she never grew weary of watching the 
bright gems flash and glow in the firelight. 

Early the next morning Elinor came down to 
the castle hall to say good-by, for these few 
happy hours were all that the Cavalier could 
spare from his duty at the front. 

" Poor little one ! " he said, as she clung to 
him, "thou hast naught to remember thy father 
by when he is gone." Then suddenly he un- 
clasped the buckle from his hat. " See, here is 
a keepsake for thee!" putting it in her hand. 
" Hold it fast, sweetheart, and when thou look'st 
at it, think always how 1 love thee." 

He held her close in his arms, and kissed her 
tenderly. It was the last time. One day came 
the news of a great battle, and Elinor learned 
that her brave father would never return. Poor, 

lonely child ! she kept the precious jewel and 
loved it with all her heart. 

Meanwhile the war-clouds rolled nearer and 
nearer, until at last they broke over the castle 
itself. Lord Lyndhurst w^as with the king's 
army, too far away to save his home, and soon 
its courts were filled with soldiers of the Parlia- 
ment, stern and terrible in their coats of mail. 
The garrison had surrendered, and Lady Lynd- 
hurst was ordered to prepare to leave her castle. 
Homeless and poor as she now would be, still 
she promised, wherever she might go, to keep 
Elinor with her; and in the days that followed 
of preparation for the journey, when the enemy 
were quartered upon the castle, the little girl 
never once dreamed of a separation from her 
guardian. On the morning set for the depar- 
ture, however, the rebel soldiers were joined by 
a troop of cavalry. Elinor wondered what fresh 
trouble was in store, when soon afterward Lady 
Lyndhurst summoned her, and, with a pale, 
anxious face, led her to the courtyard. Await- 
ing them there stood a tall officer in the dress 
of the Parliament army. As he stepped for- 
ward Elinor looked up at him in terror; but 
when he spoke his voice was kind. 

" Never fear, my child," he said ; " no harm 
shall come to thee. Listen. I am thy uhcle, 
— thy mother was my own sister, — and now 
shalt thou go home with me and be one of my 
little maids." 

Too timid to answer, Elinor only looked with 
tearful pleading at Lady Lyndhurst, who begged 
to keep the child. But Colonel Bradford was 
resolute, claiming his niece as his rightful ward. 

Mounted on a pillion behind the colonel, 
Elinor rode on the big war-horse to the new 
home that awaited her. It was well that a 
broad scarf, passed round her waist, bound her 
fast to her protector, for when they reached 
Bradford Grange her curly head rested against 
her uncle's shoulder, and the worn-out child 
was fast asleep. 

The next day Elinor began to lead the life of 
a Puritan girl. Poor little homesick Royalist — 
how new and strange it all seemed! Lady 
Lyndhurst had sadly spoiled her, and she had a 
woeful time of it in that sternly disciplined 
household, where Dame Hester Bradford ruled 
supreme. Seeing her in these days one would 



have thought her the most demure little soul in 
the world. She wore a plain gray frock, with a 
white kerchief neatly folded across her breast ; 
while the bright, brown curls, that used to blow 
about her rosy face in the breeze, and gleam 
with gold in the sun, were now all hidden away 
under her round white Puritan cap. Exce]>t 
for the roguish twinkle in her eyes and tlie 
merr)- dimples in her cheeks, one would hardly 
have known her for the same little girl. 

Aunt Hester was a notable housewife, and her 


favorite maxim was that not one minute in the 
day ought to be wasted. She thought that 
Elinor had wasted a great many minutes, and 
must now do her best to make up for lost time. 
The Bradford household had felt the hardships 
of the war, and Aunt Hester was never tired of 
lamenting over the day when Prince Rupert's 
Cavaliers had raided their lands and " the hosts 
of the ungodly " had despoiled their flocks and 
herds. She found it hard to have another to 

must be made as useful as possible. From 
morning to night it seemed to the pleasure-lov- 
ing girl that there was always some work to be 
(lone. The Bradford children were all younger 
than Elinor, who was expected to set them the 
example of a good, industrious elder sister. 

Every day, when lessons were over, she would 
place her spinning-wheel beside that of her 
aunt, and help her spin the flax into thread. 
How her poor little foot did ache as it beat up 
and down upon the treadle, and how tired she 
grew of that whir ! whir ! whir ! 
always droning in her ears. Her 
eyes would wander out to the sunny 
garden, and she would fall to hum- 
ming — very softly — some old 
Cavalier song. A creak ! a jerk ! 
and the wheel would sto]). 

•• Oh, fie, Elinor, fie ! " Aunt 
Hester would exclaim. " See what 
a tangle thou hast made ! Alack, 
what a waste of my good flax ! 
For shame, child I Thou 'It grow 
up an idle, thriftless woman if thou 
dost not mend thy ways." 

Now, whenever Elinor failed in 
her lessons, or spoiled her spinning 
task, or was found dozing during 
the long sermon on a Sunday 
morning, there always followed a 
sharp scolding, with a psalm to 
be learned and recited perfectly 
before she could be forgiven. 

The happiest days that she knew 
were the occasions when Uncle 
Richard came back for a visit. 
From the first he had taken her 
into his great, warm heart, and she 
loved him best of all those in her 
Aunt Hester would have put the 
jeweled buckle under lock and key, lest her niece 
should be tempted to adorn her frock with it. 
Elinor was heartbroken at the thought of losing 
her treasure, but Uncle Richard took her part. 
" Nay, good wife," he said ; " her father's 
last gift ere he died ! 'T is her own to cherish, 
her life long. Only bid her not to wear it, but 
let her keep it, and look on 't when she will." 
Aunt Hester with some misgiving yielded, 

new home. 

clothe and feed; and her niece, having come, and the happy little girl still 'kept her jewel. 




and never missed a chance of taking it out 
to see it sparkle in the sun. 

Chapter II. 


So the time passed, each day in its round of 
duties varying but httle from the one before it. 
The scene of conflict was far away, and only the 
rumor of distant battles disturbed the peace of 
the quiet Puritan home. Yet still the war raged 
fiercely, and again and again there was rejoicing 
at Bradford Grange, and only Elinor had an 
aching heart, as news came of a victory for the 


Parliament, and the messengers told how an- 
other fortress had been lost to the crown, or how 
the Cavaliers had once more been put to flight. 
In the summer of 1646 the king's cause had 

already become desperate. One by one the 
Royalist strongholds were surrendering, and 
King Charles himself was a prisoner in all but 
name. The queen had fled to France, and 
Elinor often thought how hard be the lot 
of the young princes and princesses, left with- 
out father or mother to meet the dangers of 
war. She wished that she could see them, and 
tell them that she, too, knew what it meant to 
be lonely and sad and frightened in these 
troubled times. 

In this same summer of 1646 a day came 
which never faded from the memory of the 
Cavalier's little daughter. One morning late in 
J uly , the clatter of horses' hoofs and 
the flash of steel warned the house- 
hold of advancing cavalry. As 
they gathered in excitement and 
alarm, a band of troopers turned 
at the gates of the Grange, and, 
riding up the broad, oak-shaded 
pathway, halted before the doors 
of the Bradford home. The fear 
caused by the sound of their ap- 
proach was dispelled as the soldiers 
came into view. Familiar faces 
were now recognized among the 
horsemen, who proved to be a de- 
tachment from Colonel Bradford's 
own regiment. 

Of the two officers who headed 
the troopers, the first to dismount 
was a strongly built, broad-shoul- 
dered man, his face deeply bronzed 
from long seasons of exposure. He 
made himself known to Dame Hes- 
ter as Lieutenant Gresham. His 
companion, a tall young officer in 
a captain's uniform, roused the pity 
and interest of every one ; for his 
right arm rested in a sling, and his 
face, handsome as it was, looked 
pale and worn with suffering. On 
learning his name Mistress Brad- 
ford gladly welcomed her guest, 
having heard of the brave young 
Captain Lawrence, who was a special favorite 
with her husband. 

The soldiers came upon a two-fold errand. 
Five prisoners. Lieutenant Gresham announced, 




"Papists, and most dangerous fellows," had Dame Hester's good broth, he smiled gratefully 
lately escaped, and had fleil southward toward and said, " Thanks, little lady," as gallantly, she 
Dover. A small band, under the lieutenant thought, as any Cavalier. 

himself, had immediately been sent in pursuit. Late in the afternoon Lieutenant (Iresham 
Three of the fugitives 
had been captured, 
and, secured in the 
])rison of a neighbor- 
ing town, awaited the 
return of their captors 
.And now the trooper- 
must on to Dover in 
hot haste, lest the re 
maining two shouM 
escape them and em 
bark for France. 

.■\ letter from thr 
colonel to Mistres- 
Bradford explained thi 
second part of the er 
rand. Captain Law- 
rence had been suffer- 
ing from a low fever, 
in spite of which hv 
had kept the field, until 
a wound in the arm 
made him unfit for ac- 
tive service. " And for- 
asmuch as the lad hath 
neither mother nor sis- 
ter to tend him," the 
letter went on to sa\. 
" I do commend him 
to your care, most 
skilled of nurses. Lieu- 
tenant Ciresham and 
his command do even 
now (le|)art for Kent; 
wherefore I have or- 
dered Captain Lawrence, under their escort, and his band came riding back from a vain 
to visit you, assuring him of a right hearty pursuit of the runaways, and, to rest their tired 
welcome." horses, halted for the night at the village inn. 

Having delivered their message, the troopers A strict watch was to be kept, lest they had, 
rode away, leaving the wounded officer to be after all, outmarched the men whom they 
faidy overpowered by the kindness of his sought, and the fugitives should still attempt to 
hostess. Elinor thought Captain Lawrence very pass that way. 

brave, for, although faint and exhausted from As Mistress Bradford wished her husband's 
his journey, he protested that he was almost own brave followers to enjoy her hospital- 
well, and would do his best to give no one any ity, the troopers were cordially invited by their 
trouble, \\hen she brought him a bowl of amiable hostess to sup at the Tlirange. 

7/7^ e,- 


'/ -^ 



While the soldiers were being entertained in 
the dining-hall, the children were sent out to eat 
their evening meal under the shade of an oak- 


tree on the lawn before the house. In the 
center of the group sat Elinor, crumbling bread 
into a big brown bowl of milk. Beside her on 
the bench were Rachel and Elizabeth, eating 
their supper with long-handled pewter spoons. 
Five-year-old Richard, his full-moon face peep- 
ing over her shoulder, watched his cousin 
eagerly, now and then snatching a crumb from 
the huge .slice of bread to put into his own 

"Nellie, Nellie, do huwwy! I 'm ///;' 
hung'y ! " 

"Oh, Dick, what a greedy boy you are! 
No, no! not that piece, too — that is Nell's 
bread. Would you leave poor Nell no supper ? 
There! 't is ready at last. Come, sit down 
here on the grass. So! Fall to, now, and eat 
like a little soldier." 

She spoke from experience that day, for the 

hungry troopers were enjoying to the full the 
feast laid out on Mistress Bradford's table. 
Cold roast beef and hot pasty were not for the 
party under the tree, but oh, how- 
good they would have tasted, 
thought Elinor, who had been 
busier than ever that afternoon, 
helping to do honor to Aunt 
Hester's guests. 

Rachel looked up from her 
bowl with a sigh. "Mother 
promised me some cake with 
berries in it, if I had not one 
bad stitch in my seam. She 
said I might have it for my sup- 
per. Think you the soldiers 
have that, too ? " 

" I doubt not ; they have 
everything" replied the older 

" Miriam spilt the cream this 
morning," announced Elizabeth. 
"I saw her; and she said if I 
held my tongue I should have 
a sip of cherry wine. But I fear 
me she has forgot." 

'■ I heard Aunt Hester call 
for the cherry wine just now. 
There '11 not be a drop left," 
said Elinor. " Never mind, 
Bess ; I '11 tell you and Rachel 
a story, and that will make our supper taste 
better." And between bites of bread she be- 
gan : " Once on a time there lived a maid, and 
she w-as as fair as could be. Her name was — 
let me see — it was — " 

" Susan," suggested Rachel. 
" Susan ! Oh, Rachel ! the milkmaid's 
name! No, indeed ! it was Gloriana." 

Rachel pouted a little. " I never heard such 
a name," she muttered. 

" No, I dare say you did not. I had it from 
her ladyship. She told me it was the name of 
the fairy queen. Well, Gloriana lived in a 
little cottage hard by a wood, all alone with an 
old woman who was really a fearsome witch 
and gave her naught but a single stale crust a 
day. One day there came riding through the 
wood a prince, dressed in purple velvet trimmed 
with gold, and mounted on a white charger — " 




" Elinor, Elinor," a voice called through the Unfortunately the accident occurred at a 

open window. time when Miriam was putting Baby Philip to 

•' Cuming, Aunt Hester, coming," cried Kli- bed, and IClmor was left to ])reside over the 

nor. ■•.Mack!" she adiled, "just as I came to children's supper. It was some minutes before 

the prince! " she coukl obey her aunt's call. 

At that moment Dick was discovered tilting " Nay, Lieutenant (Jresham, 't is no child of 

his bowl above his head to let the contents mine. I trow mine own do not thus dally when 

pour into his open mouth. The result was a I summon them. She is m\' husband's niece. 

AbKl^ M^N I 


bath of bread and milk all over his small and an orphan. Her father, Cleoffrey Arden, 

P'^''**^'''- was slain in the ranks of the wicked at Marston 

"Oh, you naughty boy! For shame ! Oh, Moor." 

what a mess ! " exclaimed his cousin, in dismay, " Ha, Geoftrey Arden ! I remember ! In 

mopping him with her clean white apron. all Pharaoh's host there was none hotter tlian 

Vol. XXXI.— no— ui. 




he against the cause of righteousness. 'T is 
pity that iniquity should enroll such men." 

That was what Elinor heard when, reaching 
the hall where the company were gathered, she 
paused in the doorway, too shy to enter. The 
hot blood rushed to her cheeks, and her heart 
beat fast with indignation. 

" Elinor ! " Mistress Bradford had caught 
sight of her niece. 

For a moment the child stood quivering ; then, 
suddenly dashing past Aunt Hester and her 
guests to the staircase at the farther end of the 
hall, she flew like a frightened bird to her own 
little nest above. 

" Oh, they are cruel — cruel! Aunt Hester 
loves me not! She 's always vexed — and I 
do try so hard ! " Her voice broke in a sob. 
"Bad, hateful man — to call my own dear 
father — " She would not repeat the words. 
" Oh, these Roundheads ! I hate them, I do ! 
Only not dear uncle. If lie would but come 
home ! " 

Her kind, noble father in the army of King 
Charles a " son of iniquity " in " Pharaoh's host" ! 
The soldier's harsh voice still echoed in her 
ears, and the indignant tears fell fast, as she 
sobbed out all her troubles, poor little lonely, 
loyal girl! 

Even when Elinor was most unhappy there 
was one thing which always helped to comfort 
her, and to this her thoughts presently turned. 
Stowed away on the cupboard shelf, safe out of 
her cousins' reach, was her treasure-box, and 
now she took it from its hiding-place, carried it 
to the window, and opened it. There, clasped 
on a bow of crimson ribbon, lay the precious 
buckle, her father's keepsake. She held up the 
jewel to catch the slanting rays of sunlight, and 
a wonderful play of rainbow colors flashed be- 
fore her. That was because her eyes were 
dim with tears. 

There was a quick step outside, and she 
heard the door open. As it was too late to put 
back her treasure, she hastily slipped it beneath 
the folds of her kerchief, and then turned to 
meet her aunt. 

" So this is thine obedience ! " Aunt Hester's 
voice was shrill with exasperation. " Dawdle 
when I call thee, and then run away before 
them al! ! A fine showing for thee, trulv ! " 

" He called my father hateful names ! 'T was 
all a wicked lie — and I '11 not bear it ! " 

" Hush, Elinor ! " But Aunt Hester's stern 
tone changed as she looked at the tear-stained 
face. A motherly pity came over her for this 
orphan girl of thirteen, and she pictured one of 
her own little daughters left to defend a father's 
name among the Cavaliers. 

" Nay. child ; the lieutenant has a good heart. 

" 'HUSH, Elinor! but aunt hester s sthkn Tu.\ii ch.anged 


He meant not to distress thee," she said kindly, 
laying her hand on Elinor's shoulder. "There, 
— be a good girl and leave off crying. And 
now harken. There 's Goody Rose fallen sick 
again, and the comforts I promised her have 
in all this bustle never been taken. Poor soul, 
to think of her being clean forgot ! Take this 
basket, and leave it with Martha at the door. 
Hasten, and linger not, for 't is growing late." 



Elinor was only too glad to escape, and, 
promising to be back again as soon as possible, 
hurried away on her errand. Her spirits rose 
once more as a light breeze fanned her face 
and the scent of sweet clover and new-mown 
hay was borne to her from pasture and meadow. 
Fox, the bright-eyed, sharp-nosed terrier, roused 
from his nap on the door-step, followed herdown 
the road, every now and then making playful 
springs and snaps at the basket as she swung it 
teasingly in the air. 

" No, no, Fo.\ ! No races downhill with 
this basket, or a sad mess there 'd be of Goody 
Rose's physic." 

Yet Elinor could not help a little skip of hap- 
piness in her freedom. Thump, thump ! Some- 
thing beat against her breast. The buckle! In 
horror at her own carelessness, she drew it out 
from her kerchief. 

•' Oh, my precious, precious keepsake ! I 
might have lost thee," she cried. " ^^'ilat 
would I have done then ? " 

Stopping a moment, she untied the bow of 
ribbon, and, making of it a long loop, hung it 
round her neck. With the jewel thus secured, 
and hidden once more beneath her kerchief, she 
went on her way to the cottage. Martha Rose, 
the sick woman's daughter, met her at the door 
with eager questions about the coming of the 

" And who knows where tiie wicked king's 
men may be lurking ! " she cried, glancing fear- 
fully around her as if expecting them to appear 
at the cottage gate or rise up from the liny 
garden. " Now an I were Mistress Bradford — 
begging her pardon for saying it — I 'd keep 
my children well indoors till the town be quit 
o' the wretches. Stay ye here, my pretty, till 


Zachary comes in from the field, and he 'II take 
ye safe home, never fear." 

" Thanks, Martha, but I was bidden make 
haste, and I 'd rather meet a king's man on the 
way than a scolding at home," laughed Elinor, 
as she turned to go. " Fox will take care of me. 
Wilt thou not, old doggy ? Come, Fox, we '11 
have a frolic in the hop-field, now I 'm rid of the 

Away went the two playfellows, over the 
stile, and into the field, where the long lines of 
poles covered with green hop-vines rose high 
above Elinor's head. They chased one an- 
other down the narrow paths, and played hide- 
and-seek among the leafy columns. Then, 
crossing a bit of meadow now pink with the 
sleeping daisies, they passed on into the grove. 
Through this grove lay Elinor's favorite walk. 
The path wound along beside the merriest lit- 
tle brook that ever rippled, under the shade of 
the oaks and yews and chestnuts, all in the cool, 
sweet air of the late summer afternoon. Insects 
hummed drowsily, birds twittered good night to 
one another among the leaves, and Elinor 
tossed out her arms, drawing deep breaths of 
delight, and longed to lead a gipsy life, forever 
careless and free. 

No one could check her now, and her voice 
rang out in a brave old war-song of the Cava- 
liers. " Cod save King Charles ! " The last 
words thrilled with a triumphant note in the 
stillness of the wood. She had reached a spot 
where the path seemed lost in a tangle of un- 
derbrush. Before her, low-hanging branches 
interlaced. She parted the dense green cur- 
tain, and then drew back as a figure rose up 
from the shadows and stepped out into the 
light. A woman ! Was she witch or gipsy ? 

utittucti. I 



Bv E. T- Platt. 

A BOY once thought he would like to go " I know 't will be easy to lind," said he, 

To the land where the seals and icebergs grow ; " For it 's just as plain as plain can be: 
To climb the great North Pole, you know, The Pole sticks up like a jjoplar-tree 

Was his ambitious notion. From the midst of the Arctic Ocean!" 


By Mary Sigsbee Ker. 


irjiie: said little 


\j ... 

fiinna Louise,, 

^fje u;as fresb -CroTW tb< 

; cllu uou 



cfon+like this oot Ik oj^icb u;e 
9et f rom fbe cou), 

ive me rJoilR-uja^on r«iik,ifyoa 




or)\\'sVwiNX . Vv,\\\\Vs 

The minute the };ame was 
ended, Kenton, the captain of 
the varsity crew, rushed out on the diamond and 
grasped the hand of Klton, the big pitcher. 

" You pitched a perfect game, Baby," he 
cried, with Iiis face flushed and his eyes bright. 
" Now there 's only one victory between us 
and the championship. We must win it!" 

" We will," said Elton. He hesitated just 
an instant. "At least, I hope so." 

'I'he home nine was trotting off the field after 
winning the game. 

" Oh, Kenton," called Klton, as the man was 
turning away, " I want to have a little talk with 
you. Will you be in your room to-night? " 

" Office hours from seven to ten," declared 
Kenton, good-naturedly. " Come when you 
like, and stay as long as you please." He 
noticed that Elton did not smile ; even the 
honor of winning a critical game seemed to 
have left the pitcher in low spirits. 

Pulton called early, and w-as ill at ease. He 
found Kenton sitting on the lounge playing 
the mandolin. After a lime the conversation 
turned to baseball, aiul Kenton grew enthusi- 
astic over the jjrobability of winning the pen- 
nant. Elton's fingers clenched about the arm 
of his chair. 

" It 's that game," he said, with a little catch 
in his voice, "that I wanted to talk to you 

Kenton looked up quickly. " Yes," he said 

" Well, it is n't till .Saturday, and I know 
Landebin will put nie in the box again. .My 
arm is pretty strong, and will be as good as 
ever by that time. But — " he stopped and 
looked out the window — "but I 'm afraid." 

" Oh, it will be a game worth seeing," said 
Kenton, "but I don't think we need worrv." 

" It is n't that," said Elton. " It 's simply 
that I 'm afraid. I lack steadiness. Do you 
suppose I did n't know how things were, even 
back in the early spring, when we were i)rac- 
tising in the cage? Do you suppose I did n't 
understand when Landebin used to watch me 
throw at that parallelogram on the canvas, and 
used to say, 'Good!' and 'Neat!' every time 
the ball curved in between the black lines, and 
then used to tell me to go easy and take my 
time? He knew I was apt to 'go to pieces,' 
and I did it, lots of times, up there in the cage. 
Sometimes the lines on the handball-court used 
to bother me and I 'd throw wide. And some- 
times that mocking parallelogram looked twice 
as high as a man's shoulders and twice as wide 
as a home plate. 

" Other times it seemed to slu'ink down to 
nothing, and I could n't hit it at all. 1 used 
to throw and throw till the sharp ]>ains caught 
my arin, and then I 'd get so angry that there 
was n't one chance in a million of putting the 
ball where I wanted it. I 'm afraid I '11 ' go 
to pieces ' in Saturday's game, that 's all. I 
could n't tell this to anybody but you, Kenton." 

The big oarsman looked at Elton thought- 

" Yes, Baby," he said encouragingly, " I im- 
derstand. I 've been watching you all season, 
perhaps a little closer than you imagined. I 
talked with Coach Landebin about this same 
thing once, when //.;' was afraid you would fail 
us. I told him that you would not ; that there 
was too much in you for anything of the kind ; 
that you w^ould hold yourself in check by sheer 
will power." 

He stopped and looked at the l)oy. Elton 
was breathing quickly. 

" Once you caine to me with this same con- 
fession in your heart. I pretended not to see 





it there, and we sat and talked, of other sub- 
jects. I told you of other fellows whose cour- 
age had been doubted, and who stood firm and 
true at the last. I took up my mandolin and 
strummed a few chords of ' Varsity! Varsity! ' 
Your lips closed. Baby, and your mouth grew 
firmer; and the next day — do you remember 
that Michigan game? — you went into the box 
and pitched as no man ever pitched on our 
diamond before." 

Elton laughed in an embarrassed manner. 

may get the glory, but the winning or losing 
will be in your hands. I am not in the least 
afraid of your failing us. Good night. Baby." 

Saturday dawned clear and warm. Early in 
the morning, before the sun was hot. Coach 
Landebin took his squad of players out to the 
athletic field, and for an hour they batted and 
fielded. Elton was put to work tossing a few 
balls to Peters, the big catcher. The boy's arm 
felt strong, and his curves were good. 



and rose to go. At the door he turned around 
to his big comforter and said : 

"Yes, I remember it very well. I played that 
game as if my life depended upon it. Then, 
when it was over, and you held my hand a 
minute and said, 'You 're true blue, kid!' I 
felt like sitting down and crying. I did n't 
understand, but I knew you had done a very 
great deal for me." 

" I had done nothing," declared Kenton, 
" except to show you that you must not fail us, 
and that you need not. I was perfectly confi- 
dent that day, and I am just as confident about 
you in Saturday's game. Dobbins and Peters 
and Edgren and the rest of the heavy batters 

He liad thrown perhaps a dozen balls when 
Peters called for an out-curve. Elton shifted 
the ball in his hands, and his fingers gripped it 
firmly. Then he stepped forward and threw. 
The ball went wide. 

Again they tried it, and again the ball was a 
foot from the plate. Peters frowned just a 
little, and changed the signal. Presently he 
tried the out-curve once more. This time the 
throw was hopelessly wide, and Peters, who 
understood, gave up the attempt. He would 
call for as few outs as possible during the 

By three o'clock the grand stand was full, and 
the "rooters" were piling into the "bleachers." 

>904 1 



Up in its place in the grand stand, the uni- 
versity band was playing rollicking airs. Both 
nines were on the field. 

Elton was standing near the players' bench, 
looking up into the sea of faces in the grand 
stand. His foot was keeping time with the mu- 
sic, and there was a bright flush on his cheeks. 

" I would n't do that, Baby," said Coach 
Landebin's voice. Elton turned quickly, and 
found the man eying the foot with which he 
had been beating time. 

" I beg your pardon, sir. I did n't know I 
was doing it." 

Landebin laughed. " Oh, there 's no harm 
in it," he said, " only it is apt to make you look 
as if you were nervous. We want a cool pitcher 
to-day, Baby. By the way, you and Peters had 
better get to work warming up. We bat first, 
but our half of the inning won't last long." 

It did not. Two of the batters fanned, and 
the other one knocked a ball straight into the 
hands of the short-stop. 

Elton walked out to the pitcher's box with 
his heart thumping rapidly. Peters slipped on 
his mask and protector, and held out his hands. 
A sudden desire to show his catcher that he 
could put the out-curve over the plate made 
Elton send in the ball without warning. He 
threw it with the snap of his wrist that meant 
speed, and it curved neatly over the center of 
the plate. Peters grinned. 

" Play ball!" ordered the umpire. 

The first batter was a short, wiry fellow. 
He smiled pleasantly at the pitcher, and Elton 
tried to smile back. But the attempt was a 
pitiful failure, for the fear which he had been 
fighting gripped his heart. Then Peters opened 
the clumsy catcher's mit, and signaled for an 

Elton put his fingers carefully about the ball 
and hesitated. The batter seemed hundreds of 
feet away, and the home plate looked like a 
white dot in the distance. Peters waited im- 

Then Elton threw. The ball started straight 
for the plate, but after going a few feet 
curved .slowly away from the batter. 

" One ball! " said the umpire. 
Peters signaled for another out-curve. 
"Two balls!" said the umpire. 

It was to be an in-curve this time. Elton's 
heart felt like a throbbing engine, and he 
seemed to see the batter through a haze. 

"Three balls!" called the umpire, and there 
came a groan from the bleachers. 

" He will expect another ball," Elton told 
himself, " and won't try to hit it. I must throw 
a strike. Peters must understand — " 

The big catcher did understand. He called 
for a straight ball, and Elton threw one. 

An instant later there was a sudden sharp 
report. The rooters of the other nine yelled 
and cheered frantically. Horns tooted. Mega- 
phones bellowed. The noise was frightful. 

It was a home run ; even Elton knew that. 
The batter had caught the ball just right, and 
sent it far over the head of the left-fielder. It 
meant a run in the first inning, and runs are 
precious things in a critical game. 

Peters was unmoved by the home run. He 
smiled a little and slipped on his mask again. 
Then he stepped into position, and called for 
tlie next ball. It came, whistling shrilly and 
cutting the plate in two. Another, with the 
same curve, fooled the batter; and after the 
third ball the umpire said, "Batter out!" and 
Peters and Elton grinned at each other like two 

It was a wonderful game. The innings passed 
without a score. Elton pitched faultless ball, 
but Peters dared not call for the out-curve. 

In the first half of the ninth, Edgren unex- 
pectedly lined out a three-base hit, and scored 
on a single which Peters dropped into right 
field. A minute later Peters stole second. It 
was the first stolen base of the game, and the 
crowd cheered frantically. Ganley, wlio played 
first, was up. He gripped the bat firmly, and 
stepped up to the plate. Two strikes were 
called on him as he stood waiting for the ball 
he wanted. At last it came, waist-high and 
swift, and he met it squarely with his bat. 
Peters was off for third at the crack of the stick. 
Elton was coaching, and as he saw the right- 
fielder fail to handle the bail neatly he yelled 
for Peters to go home. 

The player had the ball almost before Peters 
left third. Elton raced toward home with the 
big catcher, keeping just outside the line, and 
urging him on wildly. It was nip and tuck 




between Peters and the ball. Elton yelled to 
him to slide, and the big catcher put out his 
hands and dived for the plate. A cloud of 
dust arose, and almost hid tlie play. But out 
of it came the even voice of the umpire : 


It was Elton himself who struck wildly at the 
first three balls pitched to him, and who retired 
the side without another run. Pitchers are 
notoriously poor batters, and Elton was no ex- 
ception. He stood up to the plate with a great 
desire down in his heart. He wanted a safe 
hit; he wanted a two-base one. Little Ranton, 
who played short, had been given his base on 
balls. Ganley was on second. There was no 
need to tell the boy that he might make victory 
certain with a double-bagger : he knew it ; and 
when he struck out, a lump came up in his 
throat. He threw down the bat with a queer 
look on his face that made Peters wince. 

" Peters," he said, with the little egotistical 
note in his voice that the big catcher liked, 
" we are one run ahead, and it 's the last half 
of the ninth. I am going to throw that out- 
curve now, and I shall put it over." 

So Peters called for the out-curve. It came, 
straight over this time ; but the batter caught it 
and singled to left field. Elton gave the ne.xt 
man his base on balls, and was safely hit again. 
The bases were full, and nobody was out. 

" It has come," said the boy to himself, 
drearilv. " I went ' up in the air ' just when I 
should have been steady. I knew it." 

Landebin called to him. Elton nodded. "I 
am to be put on the bench, I suppose, and 
Farley is to finish the game. I deserve it, 
but—" He walked slowly over to the coach. 

" Baby," said Landebin, with a smile, " you 
have pitched tlie best game of your life up to 
now. Just keep it up. You 're in a bit of a 
tight place, but you will pull out. That 's all. 
Go back and win." 

Elton's shoulders squared. " I will, Mr. 
Landebin," he said. 

He went back into the box and picked up 
the ball. He hoped Peters would call for the 
out-curve, but the catcher did not dare. He 
noticed that the sun was not as hot now, and 
that a little breeze had sprung up. 

" Play ball! " ordered the umpire. 

The next player waited, impatient for the 
honor of winning the game. Elton grinned at 
him, and Peters, behind the bat, saw the boy's 
face and grinned too. Then Elton twisted his 
fingers about the ball, swung his arm in a half- 
circle, and threw. Three times he did it, and 
three times the batter swung without touching 
the ball. The crowd was down on the grounds 
now, piled fifty deep just outside the picket 

Elton threw two balls to the next batter, then 
two strikes, another ball, and the third strike. 
'J'wo men were out. 

The next batter was one who had not se- 
cured a safe hit during the game. He stood 
close to the plate, and Elton was afraid he 
would hit him. So the first three pitched balls 
went wide. 

The crowd groaned. The situation was very 
critical. The bases were full, and the man at 
bat had three balls and no strikes. 

" I must do it," said Elton, half aloud ; " I 
must do it! " 

Peters took a minute to adjust his mask, and 
the boy knew it was to give him time to cool 
down. Somebody over at the fence yelled, 
" .\11 right. Baby! " and Elton recognized Ken- 
ton's calm voice. He shot the ball straight into 
Peters's waiting hands. 

" One strike! " said the umpire. 

Elton's heart was thumping again, and his 
cheeks burned. He was holding himself down 
by saying over and over, " I must do it ; I must 
do it!" He drew hack his arm and threw 
the ball. 

"Two strikes!" said the umpire. 

A perfect bedlam of noise broke forth from 
the crowd. The minute Elton had the ball 
again, the sudden stillness was terrible. 

The batter looked at his coach ; then he 
stepped a little closer to the plate. Even from 
the box Elton could see an unnatural strained 
look in his face. His forehead was drawn into 
deep wrinkles. Elton thought he looked as if 
lie were about to be shot. Then he understood. 

The bases were full. Four balls would force 
in a run, but the other coach had gi\-en up ex- 
pecting anything but a third strike. The 
batter's chances of getting a safe hit were 
hopelessly small. There was only one alterna- 



*;,* ^^'> -^^^^ ,^j 



live. The batter must allow himself to be hit 

by the next pitched ball and thus force in a run. 

Elton took the ball in his right hand, and 

I'eters called for an in-rurve. 

He shook his head at Peters. The 

catcher's brow was puckered, but he 

signaled for an up-shoot, then for a 

down. Still Elton shook his head. Then 

Peters, who believed in the boy as nobody 

else on the team did, called for the out-curve. 

It was one chance in a hundred, and Elton 
knew it. Even when he was calmer he had 
failed to put the ball where he wanted it. But 
he was no longer afraid. Something of the 
confidence of the coach, and of good old 
Peters, and of Kenton, inspired him. He 
drew back his arm in the semicircle to wliicli 
the players had grown accustomed, and threw 
an out-curve, with all the speed and all the 
rotary motion he could put into the ball. 

It started straight as a bullet for the batter. 
The fellow saw it coming, and though a percep- 
tible ciuiver ran over him, he stood his ground 
like a Trojan. The ball would hit him. There 
was no need to step forward. So he braced 
himself as best he could, and closed his eyes. 

The ball curved gracefully out from the 
batter, and sailed straight over the center of 
the plate. 

"Three strikes and out!" called the umjjire. 
The side was retired, and the game won. 

I.andebin was the first to reach the boy. 
"Thank you, old man!" was all he said, but 
Elton knew he understood. 

Peters grasped his hand with a vise-like grip. 
" I knew you 'd do it," he grinned. 

By this time Kenton was over the fence. 
" You did n't fail us. Baby," he said huskily. 
Then he repeated it, " You diil n't fail us." 



By John Bennett. 

A BROOK and a little tree once went to 
To a bullfrog that lived in a puddle; 
They tried to learn all of the grammar by 
Which left both of their heads in a muddle. 
Of nouns and of pronouns they .soon had 

enough ; 
Prepositions they found most unbearable 

While auxiliary verbs, they declared, were too 
To be taught by a toad in a puddle. 

" I may, can, or must, might — I could, would, 
or should," 
Cried the brook — ■' what nonsensical twad- 
dle ! " 
'• Quite right," said the tree ; " and I can't see 
the good 
Of one's stuffing such things in one's nod- 
dle : " 

" .\nd I vow," cried the brook, "I shall not 

learn a thing ! " 
" You mean will not, my dear," said the tree, 

with a swing. 
" I said shall not," retorted the brook, with a 

" Surely you do not pose as a model ? " 

" But Ki'ill is correct," cried the tree, with a 
" So is shall" said the brook, with another. 
" It is ivill" said the tree. "It is shall" said 
the brook, 
As they both turned their backs on each 
Thus a quarrel arose 'twi.\t the brook and 

the tree. 
For neither one knew enough grammar to 

That perhaps right or wrong both or either 
might be 
In the usage of one or the other. 



And the tree to the breeze still declares to this day : 

" It is will, oh — 't is will, oh — 't is will, oh! " 

While the brook to the sands where the little 

fish play 
" Murmurs: "Shall, oh — 't is shall, oh — 't is 
shall, oh ! " 

For that tree is a willow wherever it grows. 
And that brook is a shallow wherever it 

flows ; 
While beneath each green willow, as every- 
one knows. 
Runs a little brook whispering shallow. 


Many New York girls and boys, as well ball, and ponies to play see-saw, but Tom's 
as out-of-town young visitors to the city, will proud keeper thought his pet overtop]3ed all 
recall Tom, the big per- 
forming elephant who fur- 
nished daily amusement 
for his young audiences 
with tricks and other mar- 
velous performances in the 
Central Park menagerie. 
That is to say, his perform- 
ances seemed marvelous 
for a heavy elephant whose 
natural position was on all 
fours, and who did not 
speak English, even though 
it almost seemed as if he 
understood it. Old Tom 
finally became so danger- 
ous that about two years 
ago he had to be quietly 
put away by a dose of poi- 

Perhaps the most re- 
markable of Tom's tricks 
wasone of which his trainer 
was very proud, not only 
because it was difficult, but 
because it was novel as 
well. Tom would stand 
upon his hind legs on a 
strong box, take from his 
keeper's hand a boy's 
mouth-organ, gracefully 
curl his trunk back until it 
rested on his forehead, and 
then alternately blow and 
draw his breath through 
the musical reeds of the toy. 

Bears have been trained to beat a drum other performing large anunajs in this novel 
and to wrestle, seals have been taught to play though scarcely musical, solo. 


" Oh, see, grandpa. Oh, just look there I 
Meow ! meow ! What can it be ? " 
Said grandpapa : " I do declare, 
That 's our ancestral tree! " 



{Begun in the July number.) 

By Gensai Ml rai 

'■ Kibun Oaizm " 
{Wealthiest Mam 

" Wanizitme-Kozo ' 
(Shark. Boy) 

Chapikr III. 


The master of the Daikokuya, wlio had been 
much struck by the wisdom and courage of 
Bunkichi, lost no time in going to an apothe- 
cary to get plenty of the ])oisonous stuff" for the 
7i>iuiizame, while he ordered some of his men 
to prepare the straw dummy. 

In course of time the two lads, Bunkichi and 
Sadakichi, came back from Sumiyoshi blufi". 
The master welcomed them into his own room, 
and said : 

"How now, Bunkichi? Did you see the 
shark ? " 

" Yes, sir, I saw it." was tiie re[)ly. 

"And now that you have seen the monster 
are you less disposed to go out to sea ? " 

" No; on the contrary," replied the lad, " I am 
the more ready to go." 

" Is n't that obstinacy on your part ? " 

'• Not in the least, sir," the lad said, as he 
drew himself u]); '■ the greater the opponent, tlie 
greater the interest and strength that are called 
forth ; and I am about to do this at the risk of 
my life. I well observed the spot where the 
shark comes up, and noticed a large pine-tree 
which projects over the .sea from the precipice. 
If some one will let fall a stout rope from one 
of its branches, I will row over to it, and there 
I shall entice the shark to swallow the straw 
dummy, then if it, in plunging about, should 
upset my boat, I shall take hold of the rope 
and climb or be hauled up to the preciiiice." 

The master, who was once more struck b\ 
words which showed so much sagacity as well 
as courage, said : 

" That 's a very good idea of yours. Then 

this is what we shall decide to do, is it ? I 
shall send out some of my young men to the 
Sumiyoshi bluff to fix a rope to the pine branch 
from the precipice, and you will tie the rope to 
your waist before you go out on your venture. 
I and others will stand upon the cliff" and watch 
you, and should you be in danger of being swal- 
lowed by the monster, we shall lose no time in 
hauling you up. Is that to be our plan of 
action ? ■' 

" Yes, that 's the plan," was the boy's reply. 

" Well, then, I have bought the jjoison, and 
can soon have ready as many as three dummies. 
When do you think of setting out ? " 

" Now, at once," answered Bunkichi. 

" That is rushing it too quickly, my lad. 
\\"ould n't it be better for you to wait till to- 
morrow ? " remonstrated the master. 

•' Unless things of this kind are done quickly 
and made easy work of, some obstacles may 
arise and frustrate our plans, so I will just do 
it with as little concern as you sna]) your fin- 
gers," said the lad. 

" You can't do things so lightly as you say," 
was the master's reply. And his wife, who had 
been listening, and who regretted having given 
her consent to the boy's rash project, added : 

" Bunkichi, do stay at home to-day and spend 
It in preparation and do the work to-morrow." 
.\nd the little girl also said : 

'• I don't care for your going to sea." 

But Bunkichi, having once made up his mind 
in the matter, was not to be moved by any one's 

"Then, by your leave, sir," he said," I will 
take that little boat at the jetty." And with- 
out more delay he rose up tn) go. His master 
knew not how to stop him, but said : 





" No, no; that small boat is dangerous ; and, if 
you must go, you had better go out in the U-in- 

" No, sir," said the lad ; " the temmabioie is 
too big for me to row alone, so I prefer the 
small one." 

■' But I am in great concern about your per- 
sonal safety if you go alone," said the master. "I 
will give ten rio to any one who will go with you." 

Though he quickly made known this offer to 
the members of his household as well as among 
his neighbors, no one ventured to otter himself 
on account of the people's repeated and terrible 
experiences. Bunkichi soothed his master, say- 
ing that he was much freer if left to act by him- 
self than he would be if there were others with 
him. Quickly putting the three dummies into 
the small boat outside the garden gate, with 
marvelous coolness, as if he were going out for 
pleasure, he said, •' Good-by, everybody ; I will 
go now, and be back again soon." 

The master, who was first to stir, led out to 
the jetty some of his young men as well as 
some strong coohes. Three or four big ropes 
having been made ready, he said : 

" Now, Bunkichi, tie one of these to your 

" It 's no use, sir, till I get near the moun- 
tain," replied the lad, but the master said: 

" But just think, if on your way out the 
shark should turn up ! We shall pull you along 
the coast while you will row as near as you can 
to the land." 

Bunkichi, who could n't resist the master's 
persuasion, let him tie the rope round his waist, 
and the master himself took hold of the end of 
it and together with others went along the shore 
toward Sumiyoshi bluff". 

Bunkichi, having been brought up at the sea- 
side, was an excellent rower, but as they pulled 
along the rope he rowed but slightly. Sud- 
denly he took out a dagger which had been 
handed down from his ancestor and unsheathed 
it, smiling as he noted the temper of the steel. 

Who spread the news no one knew, yet the 
people in the town came out in a crowd, and 

every one \vas surprised to see a boy alone in a 
boat, sallying forth to kill the monster. 

" Is n't he a wonderfully courageous boy ? " 

" He is no common boy. Perhaps he may yet 
be as famous as our great hero Kato Kiyomasa."t 

"Is n't he cool!" 

" Has n't he wonderful presence of mind ! " 

Such expressions as these escaped from every- 
body's lips. Thus praising him as they went 
along, the crowd followed the master. From 
among the crowd an old woman stepped out 
with a rosary in one hand, and said to the master: 

" Sir, please let me hold the rope, Namii- 
Ami-Dabtitsu." j 

The young men turned to her and said, " 111 
omeni Don't say such a thing as A'amu-Aini- 
Dabutsu. This is not the rope for you to pull." 

In spite of the taunt she still muttered the 
sacred charm of the Buddha sect, saying : 

" But do let me hold it. I am the leader in 
pulling timbers for the repairing of the Hong- 
wanzi§ temple. Yet I must have my share, be- 
cause I am sure that the lad is a hero sent by 
Buddha himself, to save us from our troubles, 
Namu-Ami-Dabutsu" repeated the woman. 

Just then a maid-servant carrying a little girl 
on her back came along the shore after the wo- 
man. The latter turned to the little girl and said: 

" Ah, you are the daughter of the Daikokuya. 
Do you want to pull this rope, too ? Namii- 
Aiiii-Da — " 

The girl would n't listen to her words, but, 
looking intently at the boat in the distance, 
called out aloud, " Bunkichi ! " 

The other bystanders, who heard the name for 
the first time, said : " Ah, his name is Bunkichi, 
is it ? " and at once shouted, '• Bunkichi Dai- 
miozin," which is a title they give to the gods. 

The lad, taking little notice of the stir on the 
shore, soon came to the foot of the bluff. The 
master and others went up the hillside along 
the edge of the precipice, while the lad began 
to prepare for his task. 

The long summer day was already declining 
and a cool breeze from the far ocean blew about 
his broad sleeves, and the voice of the crowd 

* Pronounced Tem-mah-boon'nay. A larger boat. t The conqueror of Korea in 594 a.d. 

} An expression used in one of the Buddhistic prayers. Among a certain class of Japanese it was believed 
that by repeating this phrase frequently their chances of going to heaven were increased. 
§ The headquarters of the Buddhist religion in Kioto. 




grew fainter and fainter as, hidden by the pine- 
trees, they wound their way up to the top of 
the hill. Yet now and then Bunkichi heard 
his master's voice faintly calling to him, to 
which he made reply to assure him of his safety. 
Looking out toward the ocean, there was no 
sail or boat to be seen, probably owing to the 
people's fear of meeting the shark. A check- 
ered bank of white and dark clouds was massed 
on the sky above the horizon, while the waves 
chased one another below. 

Any ordinary man would have quailed at 
such a scene as this ; but Bunkichi, with no sign 
of nervousness, put the straw figures in the bow 
of the boat and proceeded toward the place 
where the shark generally made its appearance. 
He could now see the master and others above 
the precipice as they began attaching the rope 
to a strong limb of the sturdy pine which pro- 
jected seaward. Thus all the preparations 
were made for hauling him up at the given 
signal, while the lad was also preparing himself 
for the encounter and reconnoitering the scene 
in his boat. 

At last the iron-like fin of the monster was 
seen to cleave the water. Apparently rejoiced 
at the sight of a man, as Bunkichi's figure must 
have been now and then reflected on the water, 
the shark in quest of prey raised its head above 
the water and made for the boat. 

"Come on, you villain," muttered the lad, who 
stood up in the bow with the doll in his hand. 

The terror-stricken young men on the preci- 
pice above no .sooner saw the monster than 
they were on the jjoint of pulling up the roi)e; 
but the master stayed them, saying : " Steady, 
men, steady ! Wait till he gives us a signal." 

The master anxiously watched the lad's ac- 
tion, while the crowd hardly breathed as they 
stood still with hands clenched. 

With a splash, Bunkichi threw the figure in 
the wa\- of the wanizame; the shark turned 
over, the white portion of its body gleamed, and 
It snap|)ed the stuffed figure, drawing it under 
the water. Up it came again, and the lad 
threw out the second dummy ; but the monster 
did not take any notice of it, but made straight 
for the lad. .\bove, on the i)reci])ice, the master 
awaited Bunkichi's signal with breathless inter- 
est, but no signal was given yet. With his dagger 

drawn in one hand and raising the third straw 
figure in the other, Bunkichi threw it at the 
enemy's head. \\'hether it was that the poison 
was already taking effect or that the charm of 
the noted sword frightened the monster, it 
turned back on a sudden and retreated a few 
yards. Before the anxious crowd could divine 
the next movements of the shark, it began to 
plunge about, in and out of the water on the 
farther side of the boat. Then, seemingly in 
agony, it swam about with almost hghtning 
speed, now toward the shore and now toward 
the ocean, and the sea became like a boiling 
whirlpool in which the little boat seemed every 
moment in danger of being overwhelmed. 

Bunkichi, who saw his plan had succeeded, at 
once began to row back. At this juncture, as 
fate would have it, the monster made a sudden 
dash at the boat, which was at once overturned. 
The signal had hardly been given when, after a 
moment of awful anxiety, the lad was in the air, 
suspended by the rope. The monster again 
made a mad rush, only to bruise its head 
against a rock, and with weakened strength re- 
turned toward the deep, riding on the retreat- 
ing tide. 

As for Bunkichi, the rope was drawn up 
steadily and with care, and he soon found him- 
self safely perched on the stout branch of the 

The master of the Daikokuya, when he saw 
Bunkichi once again on solid ground, never 
uttered a word, but took his hand and put it on 
his forehead in token of his unutterable grati- 
tude, while tears of joy flowed from his eyes. 
The others knew not how to do otherwise on 
the sudden alternation from dread to joy. 

After a while Bunkichi left the crowd and 
went to the most commanding position of the 
precipice and gazed down upon the sea, and 
saw the shark on its back floating to and fro, 
the sport of the waves. His joy knew no 
bounds, and he said : 

" I thank you all ; I have been saved by your 
help. The shark now seems to be dead." 

These words he uttered with his customary 
coolness, showing that he had not been at all 
frightened by the terrible experience he had 
passed through, while the others could hardly 
yet shake off the dread they haS felt. 




Addressed thus by the lad, the master now- 
recovered his speech and said : 

" No ; it is n't you who have been saved by 
us, but we who have all been saved by you. 
The shark dies and the people live, or the shark 
lives and the people must die. I have no 
words to express my gratitude to you. And 
now we must get back as soon as possil)le and 
let the people know the joyous news." 

While the master thus hurried the others to 
go back, Bunkichi stopped him and said : " Sir, 
if we leave the shark as it is, it may revive. It 
is a pity to leave it now that it is as good as 
killed. Let us haul it up by the aid of the rope. 
It seems that the boat, which was upset, has 
drifted to the base of the bluft". Let some of us 
get down and bail the water out of it, and I will, 
by the help of you all, try to secure the shark." 

The master agreed to the proposal and called 
for volunteers, but in vain. Some young fellows 
pretended to be ill, and others suspected the 
shark might yet be alive and swallow them if 
they went near it. 

At last, however, the master prevailed on a 
few of them to go down with the lad to help him. 

Chapter IV. 


Bunkichi, with the help of a few others, set 
the boat up, and, bailing the water out, got in 
and went out again to sea. Putting a rope 
round the body of the shark, which was being 
tossed about by the waves, they drew it close to 
the foot of the bluff. While Bunkichi by him- 
self rowed back home, the young men dragged 
the dead monster along the coast toward the 
Daikokuya. The crowd on the bank a[)plied 
themselves as one man to the task, and got 
hold of the rope, and the shark was finally 
landed. Amusing it was to see that old woman 
pull hard along with the rest. 

After this heroic deed the reputation of Bun- 
kichi spread through the length and breadth of 
Kumano town, and he was nicknamed as the 
]\'anizame-Kozo or Shark-Boy ; but who started 
the name no one can tell. His exploit, how- 
ever, was soon carried to the ear of Odaikan* 
and this great person himself came down to the 

shore and made a thorough inspection of the 
monster. Ten pieces of silver, were awarded by 
the lord of the province to Bunkichi in recog- 
nition of his noble services in putting a stop to 
the scourge of the town. The master was proud 
of Bunkichi, and the town people rejoiced at 
his good fortune. 

The size of the shark which the lad killed 
was more than three ken, or some eighteen feet 
in length, and its skin was so hard that the 
sharpest sword could not pierce it. The dealers 
in swords vied with one another in the offers 
they made the master for the skin, for they knew 
it would make an excellent binding for sword- 
hilts. Bunkichi asked his master to sell it, and 
the transaction was soon made, and the master 
handed over the whole of the price to Bunkichi 
as the fruit of his brave deed. The lad would 
not even touch it. He had heard, he said, that 
the fishermen in the neighborhood, from not 
being able to go out as hitherto on account of 
the shark, were in great straits even for their 
daily food, and therefore he wished to distribute 
the money among them. The proposal was at 
once accepted, and the money was divided 
either among the people who had suffered on 
account of the shark, or among the bereaved 
families whose members had fallen victims to 
its voracity. 

That Bunkichi was possessed of courage his 
actions had abundantly proved; the people 
were now profoundly struck by his moral virtue 
since they had received his alms. The name 
of Wanizame-Kozo soon got its suffix Santa, 
or its equivalent in English of" Mr.," and when- 
ever he appeared in the streets everybody, 
whether he was personally known to him or 
not, seemed to thank him by making him the 
most courteous obeisances. 

In course of time, as the people in remote 
country places came to hear of Bunkichi's ex- 
ploit, they pressed in large numbers to the 
shop of the Daikokuya, not so much to buy 
clothing as for the purpose of seeing the httle 
hero's face. From that day the master doubled 
the amount of his daily receipts as trade pros- 
pered. Because of the prosperity brought to the 
house by the lad, the household of the Daiko- 
kuya accorded him special treatipent, quite dif- 

■ The name given to the local magistrate in olden days. 

Vol. XXXI.— II 




ferent from that accorded to the other boys in ing merchant in Japan, and thereby to raise the 

the shop ; in fact, he was treated as if he were name of his ancestors ; therefore he would not 

the son of the family. But Bunkichi, on his part, like to be adopted into another family. This 

served his master better than the other boys would be the first hitch in the arrangement, I 

were able or willing to. fancy." 

In spite of his master's forbidding him, he was " No, my dear ; our intention, of course, is to 

first on the scene in the morning to sweep the give him the whole of this our property — and 

street in front of the shop and to put the shop that certainly should be sufficient inducement 

in order and to sell goods to customers however to anyone." 

early they might come. Then, having carefully " No, I think not," said the other, as he put 
settled accounts at the 

ings to the mastery of 
the abacus and to writ- 
ing Chinese characters. 
His praiseworthy be- 
havior impressed every- 
body who saw or heard 
of him. 

Two or three months 
passed in this way, and 
the lad's fame became 
ever greater, and further 
prosperity was brought 
to the house. Then the 
master took counsel of 
his wife : 

" As we have n't any 
boys, Chocho being the 
only child we have, 
sooner or later we shall 
have to adopt a son. 
I don't care to have 
any one of whose inten- 
tions and character I 
know nothing. Rather 
it would please me to 
have Bunkichi as our 
foster-son. What do 
you think about this?" 

His wife seemed pleased at this and said his head on one side in contemplation ; " he is 
gladly : not the boy who will prize such a small property 

" I agree with you, my husband ; he would as ours. I don't care to run the risk of hum- 
be just the one to whom to leave the conduct bling myself by speaking to him rashly. What 
of the business, and if we could make him our I want is to ascertain his intention at some op- 
adopted son, what a pleasure it would be! You portune moment." 
had better do it quickly." Sadakichi, who had been playing in com- 

The master pondered awhile and said : pany with the little girl on the veranda outside 

" But, you see, he hopes to become the lead- the s/wji, first heard this conversation, and one 





day told Bunkichi about it. The latter said to 

" My intention has been to win fame and 
thereby to raise our ancestors' name, so it would 
never do for me to be adopted into another 
family. Trouble will come if I stay here longer, 
and I shall be put in such a strait that I shall 
feel obliged to fall in with this proposal." So 
he thought he would do best to leave the house 
quickly and try his hand independently at some 

One evening he sought his master and said : 

"Sir, it is rather an abrupt request to make of 
you, but I have conceived a plan by which I 
can earn money, so please let me trade by my- 
self. As capital to start with, it will be sufficient 
for me to employ those silver coins which I re- 
ceived for reward and which you have kept 
for me." 

The master, without knowing the lad's secret 
intention, said, "If you wish to trade on your 
own account, I will lend you capital or give you 
any help you want ; but what is the plan you 
have in mind ? " 

" It 's simply this, sir. Since the disappearance 
of the wanizame the people nowadays get an 
abundant catch of fish, and in consequence I 
hear there is a scarcity of fishing-tackle, nets, 
and their belongings. So I wish to go up to 
Osaka and get a supply." 

The master made one clap with his hands in 
token of his approval, and said : 

" Well thought of, my lad ! If you get a supply 
from Osaka now, you are sure to reap a good 
profit. Besides, all the fishermen round about 
here received your alms and regard you as one 
ofthegods. If they hear of your selling fishing- 
tackle, they will gladly come to purchase of 
you. But you cannot transact the business by 
yourself alone, so I will send some one to assist 
you, and also I will lend you as much capital as 
you wish. Therefore go and make whatever 
investment you think necessary." 

Bunkichi did not wish to receive this favor, 
as he intended trading without the help of any 

" Sir, let me trade with my own capital alone 
without any other help in this instance," he re- 
plied. " Only, when the cargo comes, will you 
please give it store-room for me ? " 

As the master knew he could not be induced 
to accept others' advice when he had definitely 
made up his mind, he said : 

" Very well, then ; you may try to manage 
for yourself. No other boy of your age could 
transact the business, but probably you may 
succeed." Thus saying, he went himself and 
brought a packet of money. 

" This is the money I have been keeping for 
you." And then he produced another packet 
which contained fifty pieces of silver, saying : 

" This is only a trifling recognition of your 
services in the shop, by which we have enjoyed 
much prosperity, if you will accept it." 

Bunkichi again and again refused to accept 
this additional gift, but in vain, for the master 
almost forced him to receive it, and said : 

" When you come back from Osaka, you will 
stay again with us, won't you ? " 

Bunkichi hesitated and stammered out : 
"Yes, sir; I might trouble you again, though I 
intend to continue in some trade of my own." 

" Of course you may go in for whatever 
trade you like, and if you. can conveniently 
carry on your trade while you stay at my house, 
please make yourself at home in it, and do not 
think that you need help in my shop on that 

As Bunkichi had no other home, he accepted 
this kind offer for his future protection after his 
return, and the next day, when he had prepared 
himself for the journey, he left the Daikokuya 
for Osaka. 

Though he was a boy in appearance, his 
mind was equal to that of a full-grown man. 
At the time of his leave-taking, the master was 
insisting on getting him a through kago, or Jap- 
anese palanquin, to Osaka, which he had refused 
as unnecessary. In his courageous onward 
march he came to a lonely part of the road ; 
he was, however, well used to traveling, owing 
to those early days of wandering when he sold 
the dragon-flies for the support of his family, 
and by the e.xperience of his lonely journey to 
Kumano. But in this present journey, as he 
carried with him a great sum of money in his 
pocket, he felt somewhat encumbered and 
could not walk as lightly as he wished. 

On the afternoon of the day when he came 
to the mountainous region, he was well-nigh 




tired out, and he hired a kago to carry him. 
The coolies no sooner put him into the palan- 
quin than they started off at almost a running 
pace, and after a short time they turned off from 
the highway into a bypath. The lad called out 
in suspicion : 

" Are n't you taking a rather strange road ? " 

Both coolies answered in one voice : 

" This is a short cut, lad." 

As they went on they got more and more 
into the wilds of the mountains, and Bunkichi 
thought to himself that they might belong to 
that class of rascals who prey on the travel- 
er's pockets. Nevertheless it was too late to 
do anything against them, so he kept himself 
in perfect peace by determining not to show 
that he suspected them. 

When the coolies were come to a trackless 
thicket, they put the kago down, and, thinking 
to pull out the boy, looked in and found him 
fast asleep. 

They stared at each other in astonishment 
and said : " Why, he is sleeping ! The fellow 
takes life easy, eh? Come, my boy, get up! 
get up ! " and one of them poked him on the 
shoulder, and the other, taking hold of his foot, 
pulled him out. 

Bunkichi rubbed his eyes and yawned twice 
or thrice. 

"Well, Mr. Coolie, — I mean you two, — 
■what 's the matter ? " 

The coolies said somewhat fiercely : " Look 
here; you 've got some money with you, have 
n't you ? " 

He answered in perfect coolness, as if nothing 
had happened, " Yes, I have." 

They thought more and more the lad was a 
pretty easy simpleton to deal with, and said: 
" We knew you had some fifty or sixty rio, and 
that is why we brought you here. Come, now, 
hand out all you 've got, for if you refuse you '11 
suffer for it." 

The lad burst out into laughter, saying : " If 
you want the money you shall have it"; and 
he took out the wrapped package of money 
and threw it down in front of them. 

The coolies, seeing the perfect composure of 

the lad, wondered who this boy could be, and 

they began to grow nervous, and one of them 

* A boy hero who learned fencing from a 

said in a whisper to the other : " May he not 
be a. fox ? " 

" We don't know but what this money may 
turn to tree-leaves," was the answer, and both 
looked into the boy's face. 

The boy said as he smiled : " You cowardly 
thieves, are you afraid ? " 

He stepped out a pace before them, while 
they stepped back a little and said, " We are 
not afraid," visibly suppressing their fear. 

The lad peered into their faces. " If you 
are n't afraid, why do you tremble so ? " 

" We 're cold ; that is why." 

" You cowards ! Take the money and be 
gone! " 

The coohes looked at each other, and 
would n't take the money up into their hands, 
while the lad stood firmly grasping the hilt of 
the dagger of Kiku-ichimonji within his pocket, 
ready to fight it out in case they might treat 
him roughly. 

They were thoroughly outwitted by the au- 
dacity of the lad, and said : " Where have you 
come from ? " 

" Kumano is my home." 

One of them turned pale, and said to the 
other: " Why, maybe he is the Shark-Boy ! " 

" Yes, I am that very boy," retorted the lad. 

No sooner did the coolies hear this than they 
cried with one voice : " Let us up and be 
gone ! " As they were about to turn on their 
heels, Bunkichi said, as he drew his dagger : 

" If you run off I will cut you in two." 

As though they were stricken by thunder at 
the boy's words, down they tumbled on the 
ground, and could not rise in spite of them- 
selves. " Only spare our lives, if you please ! " 

As they begged for mercy, the lad coldly 
smiled, saying : " What is it you fear ? " 

" Please spare us ! AVe cannot bear the 
thought that you will finish us oft" as you did 
the wanizame," they gasped in a trembling voice. 

These coolies had heard of his brave deed 
in killing the shark, and they thought that he 
had killed it by a feat of swordsmanship, and 
that he was a warrior general like him of Ushi- 
wakamaru* of old. He at once perceived what 
was the cause of their fear, and said : 

" Are you weaker than the wani ? " 
mountain elf in the wilderness of Atago. 



" No, sir; we sha'n't be beaten by the waiii" did not take the money with him again, for fear 

though they still trembled. that they might harm him in case their avari- 

Bunkichi resheathed his short sword as he cious temper got the upper han<l and they 

said : " Then take me to where we agreed." 
With a prompt " Ves, sir," they rose up, while 

the lad got into the palanquin. They took up 

the money and nervously brought it to the lad, 

who said as he glanced at it : 
" Put it on the top of the ka};o." 
" We 're afraid it may drop down unnoticed," 

was their ready answer. 


" It 's too heavy for me to carry ; tie it some- 
where where it will be safe." 

Then the coolies tightly tied the package to 
the pole by which the kago was carried. He 

' A mountain elf. 

should make off with it. 

The coolies, however, had no courage left to 
renew their attempt; but they went on most 
solemnly and steadily, as though they were 
carrying the tcngu* Bunkichi, finding the situ- 
ation rather too quiet and tame, addressed 
them : " I verily believe that you often play 
the part of villains." 

" No, sir. It was 
the first time, sir. We 
were tempted to the 
wickedness when w-e 
saw you were carrying 
a lot of money ; we 
knew it by your man- 
ner of walking, sir." 

" I don't believe you. 
I suspect you have 
committed villainous 
acts a good many 
times, but henceforth 
there must be an end 
of them." 

" Yes, sir ; we have 
had a lesson and 
sha'n't try that game 
again ! " 

The lad laughed and 
said: "That 's interest- 
ing!" This was a pe- 
culiar exclamation he 
used often to make. 

Meanwhile Bunkichi 
came to a certain sta- 
tion where he got out 
of the kago. He gave 
the coolies something 
extra to their fare, while warning them against 
the continuance of their evil practices. 

No sooner had they got their money than 
they slunk away as ([uickly as they could. 

(TV te continued.) 

The little red cart and the shovel and Ann 
Are out of doors playing as hard as they can. 

By the roadside they gather the sand, hot and 

It is heaped in the cart and is patted down tight. 

Then gaily the little cart creaks up the road, 
And proudly the shovel sticks up in the load. 

When nursie calls in little Ann from her play, 
The cart and the shovel are both laid away. 

And Ann says the happiest folk in the land 
Must be those who are carting and shoveling 




,« \A.»Uj 

Down beneath the roUing ocean, 
At the bottom of the sea, 

Lived a Shrimp who had a notion 
That a perfect shrimp was he. 
He was briglit and he was pretty, 
Clever, too, and rather witty ; 
He was jimp, distinctly jimp. 
Was this pleasing httle Shrimp; 
So, of course, as you may see. 
He was all a shrimp should be, 
He was all a shrimp should be. 

As the Shrimp one day was flitting 
Here and there and all around, 

He beheld a Cockle sitting 
On a little sandy mound, 
.\n<\ he said, " O Cockle deary, 
You look rather sad and weary ; 

I will sing to you a song. 
Not too short and not too long; 
And I 'm sure you will agree 
It is all a song should be. 
It is all a song should be." 

Then the Shrimp, with smiles of 
Took his banjo on his knee, 

And he played a merry measure 
Like a Carol or a Glee ; 
And he sang a catch so jolly, 
All of frolic, fun, and folly, ■ 
All of merriment and play. 
All of mirth and laughter gay ; 
And I 'm sure you '11 all agree 
That is all a catch should be, 
That is all a catch should be. 



{From a paper cnttittg by Charles Dana Gibson, 
viaiie ivhen a boy.) 


By Henry Johnson. 


A CAPTIVE in a cage, tjirough my prison-bars I blink ; 

Now I wave my plumes^on high, now I let them softly sink. 

A slave at your command, I can lead you to and fro; 

Where there 's neither sun nor moon, I can guide you where to go. 

Yet be careful what you do when you free me from my cage, 

Or your humble slave may turn to a tyrant in a rage : 

For I 'm sometimes meek and tame, and I 'm sometimes fierce and wild, 

Now a terror to a man, now" a comfort to a child. 

But if you watch me well you will find in me a friend 

Ever ready to oblige and a helping hand to lend : 

I will make your kettle boil under skies of August blue, 

Or on frosty nights at home I will warm your toes for you. 



By Thomas Taitkr. 

'Most every evening, after tea, 

I travel far as far can be ; 

I gras|) the wheel with both my hands. 

And soon I 'm off for foreign lands. 

I see all countries that I can : 
Alaska, China, and Japan, 
Then round by Italy and Spain, 
And very soon I 'm home again. 

Then up about the Polar Sea, 
Where bears and walrus stare at me. 

At otlier times I take my way 
To distant Burma and Malay. 

In every land, down to the sea. 
The people rush to look at me. 
' Good luck to you," I hear them say ; 
I wave my hand and speed away. 

Our dining-room is everywhere ; 
My ship is Just a rocking-chair : 
I cruise about the world, at sea, 
'Most every evening after tea. 

*'They sho^ik thfir tiembhn^^ heads atui ^ay 
With pride and noiseless laughter ; 
Vol. XXXI.— 113. 857 

VVhert. well-a-day I they btnu ifuaay. 
And ne'er were heard of after I " 


By Helen Harccurt. 

i.T)on thc^uMnch 

ID you ever see a bullfinch? 
He is not so well known 
as he ought to be. Those 
who do know him love 
him. He deserves it, too, 
as you will see when you 
have read the story of Don. He was a bull- 
finch, and every word of his story is true. But 
first you should know something of bullfinches 
in general; then we will turn to Don in particu- 
lar — and very particular he was, too, about 
many things. 

The native home of the bullfinch is in Eu- 
rope. In his wild state he is very shy. He 

shuns people and houses. He is very timid 
when first caught ; but after the first fright is 
over he is easily lamed. 

He is a very loving bird. He takes strong 
dislikes to some people, but he loves others just 
as much. Sometimes he cares little for or dis- 
likes people who are kind to him. Again he 
likes others who do not care for him. He 
never gives any reason for such queer conduct, 

Did you ever hear a bullfinch whistle a tune ? 
The Germans make a regular business of teach- 
ing bullfinches. These cunning birds are taught 
to imitate the music of a flageolet while it is 
being played to them. By and by they get the 
notes perfectly, and then they are ready for 
sale and bring high prices. " Piping bullfinches," 
they are called. Some have only one tune, some 
two or three. 

The bullfinch wears a handsome suit of 
clothes. The base of the neck and the back 
are a slate-gray, sometimes tinged with rose. 
The top of the head and most of the wing- 
feathers are black and glossy. The tips of the 
wings are white, making a contrast with the bold 
white bar across thfem. The sides of the head, 
the throat, and the breast are light chestnut-red. 
The bill is black, and curved like a jjarrot's. 

Altogether the bullfinch is a very plump, com- 
fortable-looking bird. He is a comical fellow, 
too. But no one who is careless, or gets tired 
of pets, should own a bullfinch. Why ? Be- 
cause that dear little bird has strong feelings. 
He has a heart, a true, faithful heart. If he loves 
you, and you neglect him, he will droop and 

I first saw little Don in a bird-store. I was 
looking at a long row of bullfinches that had 
just arrived. All at once one of the little pipers 
jumped off his perch and came to his door. 
There he puffed out his feathers in the queer 



way bullfinches have when they are pleased. 
It made him look like a ball of feathers with a 
beak and a tail. The feathery ball bobbed u]j 
and down in a very funny way. Wiien .spoken 
to, he went wild with delight. He puffed, 
bowed, danced around his cage, and rubbed his 
breast against the bars. Next he began a pretty 

You can guess what came of all this, can you 
not ? The happy little bird won a good home 
and a loving 

But he was shy with every one else. He 
turned his back on them with quiet scorn. He 
was so proud and dignified that he was named 

not care for them. He wanted something else. 
He was silent and moping. So the loving little 
bird was made hapjjy by being placed in my 
room upstairs. 

It was wonderful how soon he learned to dis- 
tinguish my step. Often his clear, sweet tune 
could be heard pouring from his dainty throat. 
Or perhaps he was silent. It was all the same. 
The instant my step sounded in the hall below 
or on the stairs, the whistle ceased, or the silence 
was broken. " Come he-ere, come he-ere, come 
he-ere!" was the eager cry. Of course I always 
did " come he-ere." And then the delight of 
the dear little fellow was touchinii. Down lie 


%.^' ^ 

X ^^• 


Don, after the ])roud Spanish noljles or dons of 
the olden time. 

Every one who has owned a bullfinch knows 
his strange call of " Come he-ere, come he-ere, 
come he-ere ! " It is a call never uttered except 
to summon the one he loves. 

Don was very unhappy when I was out of 
sight. His cage was hung at first in a glass 
conservatory, where he had sunshine, flowers, 
and two canary-birds for company. But he did 

jumped to the door of his cage post-haste. 
Then, puffing out like a ball, he bowed right 
and left, dancing to and fro as if wound u]) to 
run for hours. And such a sweet iji|)ing as 
there was, too ! 

But he never played about the room when I 
was away. He was too sorrowful for that. 
His favorite haunt, next to my head or shoul- 
ders, was my bureau. He loved to hop all 
over it ; but he loved best of all to mount the 




big, fat pincushion. It was such fine fun to 
pull out the pins and drop them on the 
bureau scarf. Sometimes he carried them to 
the edge of the bureau and dropped them on 
the floor. 

One day I bent the point of a large pin and 
twisted it well into the cushion. It was rather 
naughty, to be sure, but I wished to see what 
Don would do about it. The other pins came 
out and were dropped as usual. Then came 
the " tug of war." The poor little bird pulled 
and pulled, and tugged and tugged. The big 
pin moved but did not come out. He put his 
head on one side and eyed it severely. He 
was not one of the " give up " sort. He had 
made up his mind to conquer that pin. He 
worked very hard for at least ten minutes. 
Then the plaintive " Come he-ere, come he-ere!" 
rang out. 

I waited to see what he would do next. And 
what do you think ? He thought a little, then 
mounted the cushion again, and whistled and 
danced to that obstinate pin. But it stayed 
right where it was. Then he seized it once 
more, and tugged so hard ihat his tiny feet 
slipped and he sat right down. Ne.xt he got 
up and stared at it, then hopped to the edge 
of the bureau and called again, " Come he-ere, 
come he-ere ! " 

I could not tease him any longer and went 
to the rescue. The moment that pin was loose, 
Don seized it with a happy chuckle. Hopping 
to the back part of the bureau, he dropped the 
pin down between it and the wall. It was in 
disgrace, you know. 

One day the dear little fellow had been very 
busy indeed. The cushion had been freshly 
filled with pins. That gave him a great deal of 
work to do, of course. The pins had all to be 
carried to the edge of the bureau and dropped 
overboard. That task finished, he went into his 
house to get his dinner. 

I went to work to pick up the pins, telling 
Don that he w'as a naughty bird to make me so 
much trouble. It seemed as if he understood 
every word. At once he stopped eating his 
seeds, came out, and peeped at me over the 
edge of the bureau. Then down he came, mak- 
ing steps of my head, shoulder, and arm until 
he reached the floor. .-Vnd there the dear little 

bird hurried around with all his might, picking 
up the pins. He flew up to the cushion, laid 
them down, and came back for more, until they 
were all gathered up. Then he sat on my 
chair, whistled his tune, and finally went to 

The mirror was another source of great inter- 
est. Don never tired of talking and bowing to 
the other bird. It would never talk back, 
though, and that fact seemed to puzzle him 
very much. 

One day Don had a present. A tiny bell 
was fastened to the roof of his cage. A string 
hung from it between the upper perches, so 
that he could easily reach it. Like most other 
birds, he was very fond of hemp-seeds. But no 
bird should have too many of them. They are 
too rich and fattening. They are liable to give 
our little birds indigestion or gout. Don got 
one only now and then, taking them from the 
hands of his friends. 

I now began to teach him to ring the bell for 
the seeds. I held one out to^ him. When he 
tried to reach it, I held it back and rang the bell. 
Then at once I gave him the seed. It needed 
only a few such lessons to lead him to put these 
two things together. So it was not long before 
he caught the string in his beak and gave the 
bell a royal ringing whenever he saw a hemp- 
seed. He was so delighted with the success of 
his scheme that he kept on tugging the string 
for some time before he came for his reward, 
and he was quite unconscious that I was just as 
delighted with my success in training him. 

Don soon became an expert bell-ringer. It 
was not only seeds that he rang for. He had 
got the idea that ringing the bell meant getting 
whatever he wanted. He always wanted me 
more than anything else ; so his bell was rung 
for me whenever I was out of sight : not just 
once in a while, but nearly all the time, that 
tinkle, tinkle, could be heard. At the sound of 
my step or voice he would set the bell ringing 
violently. The tiny tinkle of it, and the coax- 
ing "Come he-ere, come he-ere!" soon became 
familiar in our home. 

Dear, dear little Don ! He passed out of 
human sight long ago ; but his cunning ways, 
his loving heart, will never pass out of the 
memory of his friends. 

SliiRIF'^ 111- \IV I'F.TS. 



IKK was a cat, such a great 
liig cat tliat some people were 
afraid of him. He was striped 
and s|)Otled like a tiger-cat, 
and was almost as big. 

Dick and his little friends 
liad fine times together. They 
played hide-and-seek and other games, and 
Dick liked the fun as well as the children, even 
when they played jokes on him. 

Did you ever put paper boots on your cat ? 
That is what Dick's playmates did to him. 1 
was one of them, and it was great fun even for 
Dick himself. His feet were tied up in smooth 
paper and then he was set down on the floor. 
Then a spool tied to a string was put before 
him. Dick loved to play with spools, and was 
quick to catch them. He liked to play ball 
with them or make believe they were mice to 
be tossed or worried. But when Dick tried to 
catch the spool with his paper boots on it was 
a funny sight. His legs went wherever they 
chose. They did not care what he wanted at 
all. Kach foot went skating by itself, and left 
poor Dick flat on the floor. He kicked, rolled 
over and over, and was the most puzzled cat 
you ever saw. He looked at that lively spool, 
winked at it, snatched at it, but could never 
catch it. He thought that it was the queerest 
spool he liad ever seen, and that his feet were 
the (jucerest things he had ever owned. 

But Dick was a smart cat and soon got the 
better of his teasing playmates. He found that 
when his paper boots were on his feet he might 
just as well lie down and go to sleep. He 

would not even try to catch a nice piece of 
cheese. So the boots were given up and did 
not bother Dick any more. 

The children liked best to play in the sitting- 
room, which was u])stairs, and Dick liked best 
to stay downstairs. So the door that led to the 
front stairs was kept shut when Dick was wanted 
in the sitting-room, and also the door at the 
foot of the stairs that led into the kitchen. 
When these were shut Dick's young friends 
thought they had him safe enough. But, in 
spite of all their care, that smart cat would slip 
away, and be found sitting and purring before 
the kitchen fire. He was fond of the kitchen, 
there were so many nice scraps there. No one 
knew how he had passed those closed doors, 
until one day the cook told on him. 

She had seen him open the door of the 
kitchen stairs. It was all clear enough after 
that. The door opened with a thumb-latch. 
Dick had seen his little friends press their 
thumbs on the latch many a time to open the 
door, and he thought he could do so too. By 
standing on his hind legs he found that he could 
raise the latch easily. 

This was only one of many wise things that 
Dick did. Every one who knew Dick said 
that he was the smartest cat that ever was seen. 
Of course that was not quite true, but it was 
true that he was .smarter than most cats. Do 
you know the reason ? It was because he was 
treated as though he could think and feel, and 
not as though he were a stick or stone that could 
not be hurt l)y unkind words or acts. This was 
the reason that Dick was so good and gentle. 




This was the reason that he could think about 
what he saw, as he did about the latch of the 

But of course he could not think as well as 
you can. He was only a cat, with a cat's 
brains. That was why, one day, he tried the 
thumb-latch trick on a round door-knob. When 
the door did not open for him he sat down and 
looked his wonder, and a more sad and sheep- 
ish-looking cat never was seen. His little play- 
mates laughed at him, and then he crept under 
a sofa and would not come out for a long time. 

One of the many tricks that Dick's friends 
played on him was for three or four of them to 
sit as far apart as possible. Then one would 
begin to whistle. At the first sound Dick's ears 
stood at " attention." At the second his legs 
stood at " make ready," and at the third whistle 
it was " go ! " Full in the lap of the whistler he 

landed, and if a laugh did not stop the whistle 
Dick rubbed his head over his friend's mouth. 
If that did not answer, his velvet paw was quick 
to give a slap that always brought a laugh. 

Then a second and third and fourth would 
start up a whistle, and poor Dick was kept 
rushing from one to another, until he gave up 
the game and sat on the floor, purring with all 
his might, as if he did not care a bit how long 
we kept on whistling. We never felt sure 
whether Dick liked or disliked the whistling, 
because, while he seemed tr) ing to stop it, he 
was purring and rubbing against us all the while. 

Dick was a full-grown cat when he came into 
our family, and for fourteen years he was the 
household pet. When at last old age ended 
his stay with us, he was mourned by old and 
young, and though many years have passed 
since then, his memory still is green. 


. l^dij. 

r was because she \\as so hand- 
some and so dainty that we 
named her Lady. She had 
been brought up in the coun- 
try, and had never seen a city 
in her life until she came to us 
in the great city of Philadelphia. 

Now, you know how it is with country chil- 
dren when they come to town. They see many 
things and hear many sounds that startle them 
because they do not know what they mean. It 
was the same way with poor Lady, only worse, 
because children can reason about things and 
think out their meaning. Horses can only feel 
afraid, without knowing that there is no need 
to be frightened at all. 

It so chanced that Lady had never been 
near one of those great, roaring iron horses that 
we call " locomotives." One day when I was 
training her to pull a light carriage (for she had 
never been in the shafts before), a locomotive 
came rushing across the road in front of us. 

Poor Lady was full of terror at the sight and 
the sound of it. She reared and jumped, and 
then, as my voice soothed her, stood trembling 

like a leaf I was very careful after that. I 
saw that she must be taught that it would not 
hurt her, or else we might have a broken car- 
riage and some broken bones. 

Lady was a fine saddle-horse, and I often 
rode her out into the country. She liked the 
fun of a scamper along the green lanes as well 
as I did, but she did not like the city sights and 
sounds that met her nearer home. But I had 
made up my mind that Lady must learn not to 
fear them. So, first of all, I won her love and 
trust by being always gentle and kind to her. 
I never shouted at her or struck her. I knew 
that that would only frighten her more than 
ever. After that, whenever we came to anythmg 
that worried her and made her dance, I first 
soothed her by voice and touch ; then I faced 
her toward the object she feared. When she 
had had a good look at it, I made her go a 
little closer to it, and then stop and take another 
look. Then, patting and talking to her all the 
time, I urged her still closer until she touched 
it and saw for herself that it would neither jump 
at nor bite her. In this way I taught her to 
pass quietly by piles of brick, stone, mortar, 




boxes, lime-kilns, and all the other queer things 
that she had never met before. 

Well, when she had learned that there was 
no harm in those queer-looking things that met 
her on the streets, I was ready to teach her the 
hardest lesson of all. This was, not to fear 
those awful trains of whistling, roaring cars, 
with the great, black, smoke-breathing iron 
horse at their head. 

So one day Lady and I rode out to a place 
where there was a wide street with a railroad 
track on one side of it. I knew we must have 
plenty of room to jump and waltz around in. 

We waited there till a train came along, and 
then Lady thought it was high time to go home. 
I did not, and I told her so. Poor Lady, she 
was in a dreadful fright. She backeil and 
danced, and stood on her hind legs. Wiien she 
came down on all four legs again, she danced 
and waltzed all over the street to the music of 
the big iron horse. It was dreadful enough 
just to look at. It was worse when it began to 
blow off steam. It was still worse when it 
gave two wild .shrieks, and then went puffing off 
down the street. 

I felt sorry for Lady, she was so frightened. 
Hut all the time I spoke softly to her and 
stroked her neck, and kept her facing that awful 
locomotive until it had pufted out of sight. 

Day after day Lady and I rode out to see 
those locomotives. Day after day we went 
closer to them. W'e paid them many visits be- 
fore Lady felt quite sure that the moving, hiss- 
ing giant that breathed smoke and steam, and 
shrieked and roared, meant her no harm. 

Hut she learned the lesson at last. She 
learned it so well that she felt only .scorn and 
contempt for her one-time terror. Then 1 had 
to hold her back from crossing the track when 
a train was coming. Sometimes when it had 
stopped across the road she would have tried 
to climb over it, if I had let her. It was 
funny to see how she despised her old foe. 

Lady soon learned the meaning of the word 
'■ back." In a short time it was only needful 
to give the word and she obeyed at once with- 
out any pulling on the reins. If I wished her to 
back when I was standing on the ground at her 
side, she had only to be touched on the breast, 
and back she went until told to stop. Some 

])ersons pull so hard on the bit when they wish 
their horses to back that the poor horses open 
their mouths in pain. This is cruel and not 
needful at all. 

Lady soon came to think that she belonged 
to her teacher, or that her teacher belonged to 
her. She seemed a little doubtful as to which 
way it was ; but, at all events, .she made up 
her mind that she did not wish to obey any 
one else. 

We took a ride nearly every day. Lady and 
I. and every ride was a lesson. They were 
learned, too, chiefly in a beautiful park that was 
often crowded with carriages and persons on 
horseback. Yet it was not long before the reins 
could be dropped on her neck, in the certainty 
that by voice alone she could be guided in and 
out among them all. 

" Lady," a quiet voice would say. Then her 
ears pricked uj), and she listened for the order 
siie knew was coming. " Left," and at once she 
turned off to the left. '• Right," and away she 
went to the right. If the word was repeated 
she kept on turning until she faced around the 
other way. 

If she heard the order "Trot," '-Canter," 
"Walk," she obeyed on the instant. It was 
funny to see how quickly she dropped from a 
([uick canter into a walk, even at a whispered 
order. Sometimes, when trotting or cantering, 
a low-spoken, '• Faster, faster," sent her tearing 
along as if there were a big race to run and 
siic had set out to win it. 

Xor was this all that I,ady was taught. Even 
tiie voice was not needed to guide her. She 
soon learned to obey a set of whip signals as 
well as the orders by voice. A light touch on 
the flank started her into a trot. A touch on 
the right shoulder meant to canter. Between 
the ears meant to come down to a walk. 

Pressing the whip against the right side of 
her neck was the signal to turn to the left. 
Pressing the whip on the left side meant to 
turn to the right. If the whip kept on pressing 
against her neck Lady turned and turned until 
she had completed a circle. Rubbing the whip 
on her back behind the saddle was the order 
to go fiister. 

All these orders by voice rmd touch Lady 
obeved whether in harness or under the saddle. 




Lady's stable was in a big lumber-yard. The 
lumber was piled up in neat rows, the fronts all 
even, and the piles sometimes as high as a two- 
story house. These piles of lumber stood in 
long rows, with a space 
between that was called 
a gangway. 

It was in one of these 
gangways that Lady 
learned to play "jump 
the rope," only her rope 
was a light strip of wood. 
Two of the workmen 
stood about midway of 
the length of the gang- 
way, one on either side. 
The light strip of wood 
rested on their palms. 
Then Lady and I came 
toward them at a canter. 
The men held the strip 
low at first, and if Lady's 
hoofs struck it in the 
leap, it fell to the ground. 
That was why the men 
held it so lightly. If it 
had been tight or fas- 
tened it might have 
thrown Lady down if 
she had struck it. 

Lady soon caught the 
idea of a jump. Then it 
was a wonder to see how 
quick she was to learn. 
Higher and higher she 
jumped, until at last she 
went over that strip of 
wood as lightly as a bird, 
though it was at the 
height of an ordinary 

After that there were 
no more lessons to teach 

Lady. Her education was complete. But she 
had some ideas of her own, and learned some- 
thing for herself, as you will see. 

We had traveled along together like good 
comrades for a number of years when Lady 
had the misfortune to fall into the hands of an 
ignorant country blacksmitii. He put shoes 

on her that were too small, and so gave her a 
corn on one foot. 

Of course that corn made Lady lame once 
in a while. Several times, after being harnessed 

'at last she went over that strip of wood as lightly as a bird, 
though it was at the height of an ordinary fence." 

to the carriage, she had to be put back in the 
stable. It was the same, too, several times 
under the saddle. So, by and by, our smart 
Lady began to put the two things together, be- 
ing lame and having a lazy time in her stall. 
Not that she was at all a lazy horse ; indeed, 
most people thought her one fault was wishing 




to travel too fast. She was only spoiled, like 
the rest of us when we are sick and are luimored 
too much by those who love us. 

Once Lady was kept at ease for two weeks 
because of her lame foot. Then the man who 
took care of her said that she was all right 
again. She had been turned loose in the lum- 
ber-yard all day Sunday, when of course the 
gates were shut, and had trotted and galloped 
about without limping at all. So I took her 
out under the saddle. We had one nice canter, 
and then poor Lady began to go lame. I felt 
worried and sorry for her, and at once took her 
back to her stable. 

A few days later we had another ride, as 
Lady's groom said that slie had got over her 
lameness. But it was the same thing again, and 
so we turned around and went home once more. 

Another week passed, and as her groom de- 
clared that Lady was not lame, we started out 
for a ride again. Away we went on a nice, 
smooth road. It was all right at first, but soon 
Lady began to limp again. By this time I had 
begun to have my doubts, and instead of taking 
Lady home I made her keep on. Her lame- 
ness grew worse and worse, and it seemed as if 
it must be real. So we faced about, and as soon 
as Lady felt sure that she was really on the way 
home she set off at a lively trot! There was not 
a bit of lameness left. 

Suddenly she found herself facing away from 
home. In a moment that queer lameness came 
back, and it kept getting worse and worse. 
But instead of feeling sorry this time I laughed 
so hard that I nearly fell out of the saddle. 
Again that naughty Lady was faced toward 
home. At once she pricked up her ears in the 
most cheerful way and set off at a swift canter. 
Again she was faced the other way, and though 
her lameness came back we kept straight on. 
She looked around at me in reproach, only to 
be told that she was a sad rogue, and to hear a 
lecture on the wicked trick she had played on 
her friend. 

We took a long ride of ten miles that day, 
and Lady reached home a wiser and sadder 
horse. She never played that trick on me again, 
though she tried it once on another rider. 

Our family always spent the summer at the 
same place. It was a beautiful spot on the 
banks of the Delaware River. Of course Lady 
was one of our party, and a very popular one. 
She was allowed to roam over the grounds and 
enjoy the sweet, crisp grass and the shady trees. 
She could go wherever she chose, and where do 
you think she did go sometimes ? 

Outside the kitchen was a big open shed 
where the servants had their table in the sum- 
mer-time. It was not long before Lady learned 
the meaning of the bell that rang for meals. 
She came up to the house when she heard it, 
and waited until she saw the servants sit down 
at their table. Then she walked into the shed 
and, reaching over their shoulders, helped her- 
self to a big mouthful of bread or cake and 
walked ofil' to eat it at her leisure. This fright- 
ened the servants at first, but they soon laughed 
at it, and even set " Lady's plate" convenient 
for her. 

One day when Lady came walking along she 
found a Httle girl under the shed. She was sit- 
ting on a bench, husking corn for dinner. Lady 
loved corn and she began to snift" at it. The 
little girl threw herself full length on the bench 
so as to cover up the corn. Lady pricked up 
her ears and looked at the little girl in scorn. 
Then she stretched out her neck, put her nose 
against the brave defender of the corn, and 
quietly rolled her off on the ground. 

Then she nodded her proud head and winked 
at the little girl as much as to say, " Well, 
who 's the smartest ? " The next moment she 
had two ears of that nice sugar corn in her 
mouth and walked off to enjoy them under a 
tree. The little girl picked herself up and looked 
after Lady. She was not sure whether she 
ought to laugh or cry, but she was wise enough 
to choose to laugh. 

We all loved Lady, and when, after years of 
faithful service, she left us, as all our pets must 
do, we mourned her loss. She was like one of 
the family. It did not seem right at all to 
speak of her as " a horse." She seemed just 
like one of ourselves. 

What Lady was to us you can make your 
own horse by treating it kindly and as a friend. 

Vol. XXXI.— 114. 


(A True Story of My Childhood.) 

Bv F. K. Hawson. 

HAT was a dry year 
in Australia. All 
through the winter 
months, except for 
light showers which 
laid the dust, there 
had been no rain, and when 
summer came, the fierce sun 
blazed down upon a bare 
red earth from which the 
parched herbage had long 
since been swept away by the strong north wind, 
leaving nothing but the dry stumps of the tufted 
grass. The sheep died in hundreds, and the 
cattle found scant nourishment by feeding upon 
the acrid leaves of the bush shrubs. 

In the middle of January a day came which 
was the climax of that awful summer. After a 
stifling, breathless night, the sun rose like a 
great red ball, growing hotter and fiercer as he 
ascended in the heavens, until at noon the air 
scorched the flesh like the blast from a fur- 
nace. Even the leaves of the hardy gum-trees 
rustled and crackled and withered with the 
intense heat, while the sandalwood-trees, the 
wattle and cassia bushes, with each smaller 
tree and shrub, drooped, their leaves hanging 
limp and lifeless. 

The wild birds, open-mouthed and gasping, 
met in the giant gum-tree, which in former 
years had afforded them grateful shade; but 
now it gave no shelter, for its leaves stood on 
edge and the burning sun-rays filtered through. 
Even the eagle-hawk was subdued. With parted 
beak and outspread wings, he balanced his 
body on a stout bough and glanced uncaring 
at his feathered prey, for well he knew the hot 
blood of birds would not ease this raging thirst. 
Following the eagle-hawk's eye, the crow 
looked down with a sinister smile upon the 
birds panting on every branch. All were there: 

Laughing Jack in hi-^ 
brown coat, his boister- 
ous merriment stilled. 
The magpie, his black-and- 
white dress, usually so spick 
and span, now dingy and ruf- 
fled, for what bird could care 
how he looked in such wea- 
ther? At dawn he had tried 
a note or two of his glo- 
rious morning song, but 
soon quavered off into 
silence. Perched on a 
twig in his pretty garment 
of soft, eucalyptus green, was little Silvereye, the 
daring bird who persistently refused to be scared 
away when a gun was fired, but kept his place 
in the branches, trusting to his coat concealing 
him among the leaves which he resembled so 
closely ; instead, he would turn a merry, silver- 
rimmed eye toward the hunter as though invit- 
ing another shot. 

Seated near their brown cousins of the plains 
were the pretty blue wrens, their lovely dress, 
brilliant azure on the male, more somber on the 
female, making a bright spot of color. The 
" cooloody," a smaller and less aggressive copy 
of Laughing Jack, was perched beside the dull- 
coated but musical thrush. The black-and- 
white flycatcher was there, the friend of the 
cows, on whose backs he often perches when 
hunting for his food and their torment, the flies. 
The whole parrot family was represented, from 
the great red-and-yellow-crested cockatoos, the 
screaming pink-and-gray galas, the large, gor- 
geously plumaged parrots, down to the tiny soft 
green parrakeets. Besides these there were the 
ground lark and his silver-voiced brother of the 
sky, the bronze-wing pigeon, the tiny crested 
dove, and many other birds of the bush too 
numerous to mention severally. 




All the birds were suffering terribly from 
thirst, and there seemed no hope of any allevia- 
tion of their agony unless rain should come. 
All the water-holes were dried up. Even the 
supply of water in the wells appeared to be 
getting low, and the day before my father had 
ordered the troughs where the animals watered 
to be covered, to ])revent evaporation, and to 
keep the dingos from drinking there. He 
hoped that this frightful weather, if it did no 
other good, would kill off these enemies of the 
sheep. Previous to the covering of the troughs, 
the birds had been accustomed to drink and 
bathe there in the early morning and in the 

For me and my brothers and sisters this 
terrible day had been a trying one also. We 
were not allowed to go out of doors for fear of 
sunstroke, and, restless and tortured by the heat, 
we had wandered from room to room, unable to 
lie still as we were bidden, and with no heart 
for our usual indoor amusements. The only 
thing which made us forget our discomfort for 
even one moment was the sight of our friends 
the wild birds collected in the big gum-tree in 
front of the house. We knew that their suffer- 
ings were greater than our own, and we grieved 
that we could not help them. 

About four o'clock we were all together at 


the window, looking out, when we noticed a 
commotion among the dispirited and gasping 
birds. They seemed simultaneously to have 
agreed upon some plan, for they all dropped to 
the ground, and slowly, with outspread wings 
and open mouths, painfully crossed the hot 
earth between the tree and the house, and 

presently we saw the marvelous sight of the 
whole troop, headed by little Silvereye, trailing 
up to the veranda. In amazement and delight, 
we called to our mother : 

" Oh mama, mama ! The birds — the birds ! " 
" Open wide the windows," she instantly or- 
dered; "perhaps they will come in. See, chil- 
dren, the ] ■ ^ are perishing with thirst!" 


We obeyed at once, and the birds came pant- 
ing in, their wings drooping, their beaks apart. 
Oh, the wonder and the joy of it ! Our hearts 
swelled and almost burst with delight at the 
thought that the birds — our dear wild birds 
whom we loved so much — of their own accord 
had come to us for aid in their extremity. 

The heat was forgotten in the great happiness 
of ministering to the needs of our guests. We 
ran to the kitchen for all the shallow dishes we 
could find. These we filled with water and 
placed on the parlor floor. The birds were not 
slow to understand. They crowded around the 
pans, and drank and drank, dipping in theirbeaks 
again and again, and lifting their heads to allow 
the cool fluid to trickle refreshingly down their 
parched throats. When their thirst was quenched 
they made no attempt to get out, but perched 
in various attitudes about the room. 

The crow flew to the mantelpiece, stood on 
the corner of the shelf, uttered a weak i:aw, 
and looked around with an air of great dignity. 
The eagle-hawk perched upon the arm of the 
sofa, while the magpie chose a shelf in the 
corner as a resling-i)lace. Most of the small 
birds found perches on the fresh boughs father 
had cut in the early morning, and which mama 
had arranged in the big open fireplace so as 
to give the room an appearance of coolness. 
Laughing Jack looked comical seated silently 
and gravely on the back of a chair. The pret- 
tiest picture w-as made by a number of parra- 



keets who sat in a row on the fender. The 
pigeons, larks, and most of the ground birds 
crept under the furniture, remained on the floor, 
or perched on the rungs of chairs. 

For a long time we children could do little 
but gaze in rapture at the birds. That our wild 
feathered friends should have come to visit us 
seemed like a bit out of fairyland, and every 
few minutes w'e would rub our eyes and look 
again to see if it were really true. 

If we went near, the birds did not move away, 
but allowed us to touch them, and Silvereye 
even hopped on to Arthur's finger and sat there 
contentedly for quite a while. It was a rare 
pleasure to take a little unresisting parrakeet, 
honey-bird, crested dove, or blue wren in our 
hands, hold it up to our ears and listen to the 
quick beating of the tiny heart, or stroke the 
soft feathers with our smooth cheeks. But 
mama said we must not handle the tender 
creatures much lest we make them ill. So we 
satisfied ourselves by watching them, and by 
going every few minutes to bring fresh water, 
also bread, which we crumbled on the floor, 
hoping that our guests might be tempted to eat. 
But the birds did not care for food. Water and 
shade were all they craved. 

All too short was that happy afternoon. The 
night closed in hot and stifling, and the birds 
made no move to go. We were allowed to 
stay up later than usual, but at ten o'clock were 
sent to bed. After tossing restlessly for an hour 
or more, I sank into a troubled sleep, from 
which I was awakened by flashes of distant 
lightning and the rumbling of a coming storm. 
Each moment the flashes were brighter and the 
thunder-claps louder. My brothers and sisters 
were also awake, and in the intervals of stillness 
I called to them across the hall. The storm 

was traveling at a rapid pace, and it was not 
long before it burst in all its fury over the house. 
The wind howled around the corners, the thun- 
der roared, blinding flashes of lightning illu- 
minated our rooms, and the rain and hail beat 
upon the roof. It lasted longer than most sum- 
mer storms, but at length passed, leaving quiet- 
ness behind it, and in the hush of the dawn we 
heard a stir in the parlor. 

We did not wait to put on even our shoes, 
but in bare feet and nightgowns ran down, to 
find our parents already dressed, and the birds, 
awake, alive, fully recovered from the suffering 
of the previous day, collected at the windows, 
eager to get out. 

" Oh mama, can't we keep them ? " we asked 

" No." 

" Not even one ? " 

But our dear mother was firm. She had the 
strongest sense of the rights of animals, and she 
knew that no matter how kind we might be to 
these birds, they would never be so happy in 
captivity as in the wild freedom of the bush. 
So half reluctantly we opened wide the win- 
dows, and so with coos and caius, and various 
notes of ecstasy they flew joyfully forth into the 
sweet-smelHng, rain-freshened world. We, too, 
felt glad with them, and rejoiced that they were 

Though ever after on each hot summer day 
we hoped they might, the birds never again 
visited us; but I think they recognized our 
greater friendliness, and after that day were 
more tame, especially as father gave orders 
that no bird was to be shot near our house. 
Among all the sweet memories of my child- 
hood, the day when the birds were our guests 
stands out as the most exquisite of all. 


.J^ 1 r. 

» t*^,a 2 



'/ i'l 

In the summer of the summer, Tv» " " 

when the hazy air is sweet ..• " 

With the breath of crimson clover, and the day 's 

a-shine with heat, 
When the sky is blue and burning and the clouds a 

downy mass. 
When the breeze is idly dawdling, there is music in the 
grass — 

Just a thistly, whistly sound 
In the tangles near the ground; 
And the flitting fairies often stop to listen as they pass. 
Just a lisping, whisp'ring tune, 
Like a bumblebee's bassoon. 

% i' In a far-away fantasia, is the music in the grass. 



■'^■-. "> 

Would you know what makes the music ? On each iSk 

slender, quivering blade uW 

There are notes and chords and phrases by the bees ^ 

and crickets played ; 
And the grasshoppers and locusts strive each other to surpass 
In their brave interpretation of the music in the grass. 
By the roguish breezes tossed 

You might think it would get lost, ,r, j 

But the careful fairies guard it, watching closely as they pass. Hu, 
So on every summer day, 
Sounding faint and far away. 
Is the mystic, murmuring marvel of the music in the 

W H 


_ 1 1,.,-^ 'n* 


{Begun in the November nuinber.\ 

Bv B. L. Far I EON. 

Chapter XXVII. 


" Your Majesty," said Mrae. Tussaud, ad- 
dressing Richard Coeur de Lion, " expressed 
the hope that the fair damsel who is oppressed 
is not our dear Mile. Lucy. Sire, it is not 
that sweet child, but she suffers as deeply 
as if it were indeed herself who is under the op- 
pressor's thumb. The damsel whom we seek 
to release, and whose happiness we have jour- 
neyed hither to insure, is Lucy's sister. Mile. 

"Ha! The fair Lydia," said Henry VIII. 
" One of England's sweetest flowers. And is 
it this varlet who would bar the way to her 
heart's desire ? " 

" You shall hear, your Majesty and the royal 
court of England here assembled. I charge 
this man, Lorimer Grimweed, with using a base 
power he holds over the damsel's father to force 
her into marriage with him — with him whom 
she detests. For her love is bestowed upon a 
worthier gentleman, one who has provided 
excellent entertainment for my celebrities this 
day and night." 

" We have observed what passed between 
this pair of lovers," said Henry VIII. " It is 
Harry of the Bower." 

" The same, your Majesty." 

" A proper man, and a fit mate for the fair 

" The father of these dear girls," said Mme. 
Tussaud, " has lived all his life in this pleasant 
retreat, which," she added, " you may one day 
revisit — " 

" It likes us well," said Queen Elizabeth. 
" The happiness of the fair Lydia and Harry of 
the Bower is near to our hearts, and we should 
be glad to witness it." 

All the celebrities,' with the exception of 
Richard III and the Headsman (who, being 

for the time inanimate, of course could n't), 
rubbed their hands. 

" He indeed has a great affection for Mary- 
bud Lodge, and has spent much money in 
beautifying it," continued Mme. Tussaud. " It 
is hallowed with his tenderest memories. His 
sweet daughters were born here, and it would 
sorely grieve them to be compelled to leave it." 

" Who compels them, madame ? " inquired 
Richard Cceur de Lion. 

" This man, Lorimer Grimweed, to whom the 
land belongs. He boasted to me that he has 
old Mr. Scarlett under his thumb, and refuses 
to renew the lease which I have in my pocket " 
— she produced it — ''unless our dear Lucy's 
sister Lydia consents to marry him." 

" Nay, by St. Jude, but that shall not be," 
said Henry VIII, and turned to the celeb- 
rities. " What punishment shall we devise for 
the knave who thu« conspires to destroy the 
happiness of England's fairest daughters ? " 

" Deatli ! " they cried ; and Lorimer Grim- 
weed's knees shook, and every vestige of color 
left his face. 

" Oh, grimes 1 " he gasped. " But this Is aw- 
fuller than ever ! " 

" No, not death, your Majesties," said Mme. 
Tussaud, " but something perhaps even worse. 
Attend to me, Lorimer Grimweed. You have 
witnessed the power I possess — the power 
which all here acknowledge." ^ 

'■ We do," said the celebrities. * 

" And who dare dispute the word of Eng- 
land's Majesty ? " said Mme. Tussaud. " Mis- 
erable man, look at the figures of my execu- 
tioner and Richard III. Look well at them." 

Lorimer Grimweed gazed at the statuesque 
forms, and his terror became so great that he 
could scarcely stand. 

" They will remain as you behold them," said 
Mme. Tussaud, " motionless, immovable, with- 
out feeling, without power to speak, until I 



release thera. They will remain like that, at my 
will and pleasure, for as long a time as I choose 
to keep tliem so. If I so decide they will re- 
main like that forever — yes, forever/ And as 
they are so shall you be unless you relinquish 
your pretensions to the hand of Miss Lydia, and 
unless you sign the new lease of Marybud 
Lodge. Do you consent ? " 

She raised her magic cane. 

" No, no ! " he screamed, falling on his knees. 
" Don't — please don't I Oh, spare me — spare 
me : " 

" Do you consent ? " 

'• Yes — yes ! Oh, grimes, oh, grimes ! " 

" You will no longer persecute Miss Lydia 
with your attentions ? You relinquish your base 
design ? " 

"I do— I do!" 

" You will sign the lease ? " 

" I will — ] will I " 

" This do you promise," said Queen Eliza- 
beth, in a tone of stern command, " ' so grace 
and mercy at your most need help you ! ' " 

" I do — I do I I '11 do anything you want. 
Only put down that cane, Mme. Tussaud. 
There 's no occasion for it ; there is n't, indeed I 
You 've no idea of the effect it has upon me. It 
gives a fellow the twitches to that extent that he 
feels as if he were falling to pieces ! " 

" .\nd remember always," said Mme. Tus- 
saud, " that should you break your promise, by 
spoken or written word, or should you give 
Lucy or Lydia or their papa the least annoy- 
ance, I will exercise my power over you, and 
there will be an end of you forever." 

" I will bear it in mind — I will never, never 
forget it. You may take my word; indeed you 
may. I was never more earnest in all my life ; 
never, never ! " 

Mme. Tussaud turned to her celebrities. 
•' Have I your consent, my celebrities, to ratify 
this agreement ? " 

" \'ou have," they replied. 

" Then we will have the lease signed at once, 
and some of you shall witness it. Harry Bower, 
do you know where Mr. Scarlett sleeps ? " 

" Yes, madam." 

" Go and awake him if he be asleep, and ask 
him to have the kindness to step here for a few 
minutes. We will not detain him long." 

Mr. Scarlett was only half asleep, and his 
brain was teeming with extraordinary fancies, 
when Harry entered his bedroom ; and greatly 
astonished was he at the message. Hastily 
scrambling into his clothes, he accompanied the 
young man in a confused state of mind to the 

" It is n't all a dream, is it, Harry ? " he asked, 
before they reached the room. 

" No, sir," replied Harry ; " it is a very happy 

" -And my dear Lydia and you are to be mar- 
ried ? " 

" I hope so, sir." 

" I hope so, too; for she would be happy with 
no one but you, Harry. You shall have the 
nicest wedding ! But the way it has been 
brought about, the way I have been made to 
see my error — so strange, so singular, so beau- 
tiful ! Ah, Harry, it is never too late to learn." 

" Mr. Scarlett," said Mme. Tussaud, when 
he and Harry appeared, " I regret that you 
should have been disturbed, but no doubt you 
will be pleased when you learn why we require 
your presence. I am happy to inform you that 
Mr. Lorimer Grimweed has withdrawn his suit 
for your daughter Lydia's hand." She paused 
and looked at Lorimer Grimweed for confirma- 
tion of her statement. 

" Yes, I withdraw, I withdraw," said the 
trembling man. 

" In favor of Harry Bower," continued 
Mme. Tussaud, " to whom Lydia has given 
her heart." Again she looked at Lorimer Grim- 

" Of course, of course," he stammered. " In 
favor of Harry Bower." 

" You will be pleased also to learn that Mr. 
Grimweed has agreed to sign the new lease 
which he brought with him to-day. I think I 
may say that, under the circumstances," — she 
fixed her eyes upon Lorimer Grimweed and 
repeated, — "under the circumstances, he is 
anxious to retain you as his tenant. That is so, 
is it not, Mr. Grimweed ? " 

" Most anxious — most anxious." 

" You have found Mr. Scarlett a good ten- 
ant, I hope, Mr. Grimweed ? " 

•' Certainly, most certainly. ' No landlord 
could desire a better one." 




" Pays his rent regularly, I trust ? " 

" Regular as clockwork. Never behind." 

" The lease, I see, is for seven years, renew- 
able at your option, Mr. Scarlett, at the end of 
that term for another seven, and after that for 
another seven. But I should like to ask you 
one question. In such a delightful locality as 
this, property would naturally increase in value. 
Has Marybud Lodge increased in value ? " 

" I think it has," said Mr. Scarlett. 

"Then there should be an increase in the rent." 

" I am willing to pay it." 

" Say an increase of fifty pounds a year." 

" Willingly, willingly," said Mr. Scarlett. 

"You see, Mr. Grimweed," said Mme. 
Tussaud, " that Mr. Scarlett is desirous to deal 
fairly by you. Harry Bower, bring pen and 
ink. Alter the figures, Mr. Grimweed, and put 
another fifty pounds a year into your pocket." 

" Doth the varlet deserve it, Mme. la Tus- 
saud ? " said Henry VHI. 

" In man's dealing with man, your Majesty," 
she replied, "justice should be the principal 
aim. Mr. Grimweed will perhaps learn the 
lesson that honesty is the best policy. In human 
life, justice, mercy, and kindness are three of its 
brightest jewels. Have you made the altera- 
tion, Mr. Grimweed ? Yes, I see you have. 
Now please sign. This is your hand and deed ? 
Good. Will your Majesty be kind enough to 
witness the signature ? " 

She handed the pen to Queen Elizabeth, who 
wrote her name thus : 

" Now your 
sign ature, 
Henry," said 
Mme. Tus- 
saud, passing 
the pen to 
Henry VIII. 

After these 
signatures came those of Richard Coeur de 
Lion, Mary Queen of Scots, Charles II, Oliver 
Cromwell, and, last of all, Tom Thumb, who had 
to be lifted up to the table to write his name. 

" Genuine autographs," said Mme. Tussaud, 
handing the precious lease to Mr. Scarlett, 
" for which collectors would give untold gold. 
Take great care of it, Mr. Scarlett, for it is a 
unique document." She accompanied him to 

the door, after he had bowed to the celebrities 
and had received a gracious acknowledgment 
from them. " Do you know whom you have 
to thank for this, Mr. Scarlett ? " 

" You, madam," he answered. 

" No," she said. " It is your dear, brave 
little Lucy you have to thank for it. Good 
night, Lucy's papa. Sleep well." 

"genuine autographs — the witnesses to 
grimweed's signature. 

Then she went back to her celebrities, and 
touched Richard III and the Headsman 
with her magic cane. To Lorimer Grimweed's 
alarm, they instantly came to life. He held up 
his hands to ward them off. 

"They will not harm you, Mr. Grimweed," 
said Mme. Tussaud. " You may now retire. 
But you will not leave the house. You will re- 
main within these walls imtil daylight, when 
you will be free to depart." 

Half an hour afterward Mme. Tussaud 
stood in Lydia's bedroom. On this night the 
sisters slept together. The celebrities were as- 
sembled in the grounds, close to the back en- 
trance of the Lodge, and Harry Bower was 
\vith them. They were about to leave the for- 
tress, with victory inscribed upon their banner. 

Lucy and Lydia were in dreamland. 

Mme. Tussaud, gazing pensively upon the sis- 
ters, thought she had never seen a sweeter pic- 




ture. Lucy's arm was round Lydia's neck, and 
one little hand was on the counterpane. Peace 
and joy were typified in the sleeping forms. Their 
soft breathing was like a zephyr's flowing kiss, 
and there was perfect happiness on their faces. 
" Good night, darling Lucy," murmured 
Mme. Tus.saud ; " good night, dear Lydia. 
You remind me of my Princes in the Tower, 
but a vastly happier 
fate awaits you. Good 
night, good night. Joy 
be with you ! " 

Chapter XXVI II. 


When she rejoined 
her celebrities in the 
grounds Mmc.Tussaud 
made them a little 
speech, in which she 
cordially thanked them 
for their assistance. 

" We have accom- 
|)lished the task we set 
out to perform," she 
said, " and have made 
our dear Lucy haii])y, 
and through her — 
never forget that, Har- 
ry Bower — yi>u and 
your pretty Lydia. 
Love her and cherish 
her, and you will have 
a fidl measure of the that life can give. 

tinued Mme. Tussaud, " where we will stand, 
as we have stood for many generations in the 
past, and will for many generations in the fu- 
ture, for the instruction and entertainment of 
old and young. And if perchance this adven- 
ture of ours comes to their knowledge — though 
of course that is almost too much to hope for 
— but if it should, our visitors will gaze upon 


Love is the most pre- us with renewed interest, and old people who vis- 

cious gift that Heaven has bestowed upon man- ited us when they were young will come again 

kind. Yes, my celebrities, the curtain is falling to renew the joys of those early days. Harry 

upon our comedy. Meanness is defeated, love is Bower will accompany us on our homeward jour- 

tnumphant. You have behaved admirably, all ney, and I beg of you to be very, very careful, 

of you — es])ecially you, Tom Thumb, and you. 
Queen Elizabeth, and you, Henry VIII— but 
I will not make invidious comparisons. You 
all have done well. I promised you entertain- 
ment, Henry. Have I kept my word ? " 

•• By my troth 1 " he answered, " 't is nigh 
upon four hundred years since we spent so 
happy a day." 

•' We return now to our beloved show," con- 

Voi,. WXI.— 115. 

and very, very obedient. This is not the last of 
our adventures. I promise you many happy 
days in the future, when I trust Richard 111 
will etideavor to be more agreeable than he has 
been to-day." 

"It hath been a merry day, Tom of the 
Thumb," said Queen Elizabeth, looking down 
kindly upon her Lilliputian cavalier. 

'• A bully day. Queen E," Tom replied. 



" Even in my free and enlightened country we 
could hardly get up such a good picnic as this." 

" And see, Tom, the moon ! " said Elizabeth. 

The floating clouds revealed its radiance, 
and the garden of Marybud Lodge was flooded 
with fairy light. With a languishing glance at 
the queen, the little man said : 

" ' Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, 
that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops — ' " 

" ' O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant 
moon,' " Elizabeth murmured coyly. 

There was a look of sadness on their faces 
as Harry Bower unlocked the gate leading to 
the old stables in which stood the van and 

Chapter XXIX. 


Bv the same arts which she had employed 
at the commencement of the adventure Mme. 
Tussaud brought it to a successful termination. 
The return, it is true, was more difficult than 
the setting out had been, for the exhibition was 
jealously guarded. Additional night-watchmen 
had been put on, and, late as it was, there were 
still a few persons outside, gazing at the walls, 
with a vague notion that something like the 
wonders related in the story of Aladdin 
might take place before their eyes. But the 


horses which had conveyed tiiem to Marybud 
Lodge, and were now to convey them back to 
Marylebone Road. 

Queen Elizabeth paused before she passed 
out, and, with a wave of her royal hand to her 
companions, said : 

" • Our revels now are ended. These our actors, 
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and 
Are melted into air, into thin air :' " 

" No, no, your Majesty," interposed Mme. 
Tussaud, " not quite that." 

" I am speaking the words of our sweet Will," 
said Queen Elizabeth, " and there is some ap- 
plication in them to our state. 

'Are melted into air, into tliin air: 
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces. 
The solemn temples, tiie great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inheiit, shall dissolve. 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded. 
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
As dreams are made on ; and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep.' " 

tact and cleverness of the mistress of the show 
were equal to the occasion. She glided about 
like a spirit. Every human being in the vicin- 
ity of the exhibition was transfixed by a touch 
of her magic cane. Those who occupied the 
places of the missing celebrities were carried 
out swiftly and dexterously by Loushkin, Oliver 
Cromwell, and Harry Bower, and the celebrities 
themselves stepped into their old positions and 
were there transfixed. .Some of them were in- 
clined to argue the matter, but their mistress 
succeeded in convincing them that it would 
be much the best for them to yield gracefully. 
When this was done, Mme. Tussaud went back 
to the street and set all the human beings in 
motion again. It was as simple as a-b-c. The 
horses in the post-office van trotted off, with the 
driver on the box ; the revivified persons walked 
on as though nothing had occurred ; and every- 
thing was as it had been twenty-four hours be- 
fore. Then Mme. Tussaud wished Harry Bower 
good night, bidding him be sure to give her 

I9«4. i 



fond love* to Lucy and Lydia; next slie set her 
firemen and night-watchmen going again, and 
finally she stepped into her old place, at the 
head of Mme. Sainte Amaranthe. 

You may be sure she first took great pains 
to put her magic cane where no one litit herself 
could find it ; and she was quite right to be so 
careful, for if it happened to fall into other 
hands there is no telling what miglit occur. 

As for what the public journals said on the 
following day, the consultations held, the in- 
vestigations and speculations of the learned doc- 
tors, the scientific theories started, the letters 

there was a wedding. Nothing very wonderful 
in that, you say. No ; but this was a very 
special wedding, and if you are clever (which 
of course you are, or you would not be reading 
this comedy) you may be able to guess the 
names of the bride and bridegroom. .All you 
have to do is to take the initials L. S. and 
II. B., and entwine them in a true lover's knot. 
l'erha[)s that will assist you. 

To describe the happiness of this young cou- 
ple is simply an impossibility. .Any attempt of 
ours to de|)ict it would be nothing less than a 
downright failure, so let us be content with 
saying that they were very, very, very happy. 


written to the newspapers by the most eminent 
men in the kingdom, the fresh wave of excite- 
ment that paralyzed business, the second visits 
of the Lord Mayor and the sheriffs and alder- 
men in their state robes and carriages, and of 
the Prince and Princess of Wales and the whole 
of the royal family, including their Most (Gra- 
cious Majesties the King and Queen, the frantic 
rush of the fashionable classes and of every 
member of society to get into the exhibition — 
if you should succeed in obtaining a copy of the 
book of which mention is made in a previous 
chapter, you will find the whole of these par- 
ticulars recorded therein. 

Chapter XXX. 


Whp;n the lavender-fields were sending forth 
their delicious perfume — every one knows what 
time of the year that is by the cry, " A penny a 
bunch, sweet lavender!" in all the streets — 

Will you be surprised to hear that there was 
some one happier even than the bride and 
bridegroom ? A little girl — Lucy. 

Yes ; though her white kid gloves did burst 
when she was putting them on, and she had n't 
another pair, there was not in all his Majesty's 
dominions (Edward VII's, not Henry VIII's) 
a happier human being than Lucy on this glo- 
rious wedding-day — nor a |)ielticr. 

Fresh from his ocean bath rose the sun at the 
earliest possible moment in the morning, and 
continued to shine until quite late; which per- 
haps was the reason why Lucy's and Lydia's 
eyes were so luminous. All the birds in Mary- 
bud were awake long before their regular time, 
and the moment the sky began to blush (it was 
a blushing day, you know) they began to sing, 
and did not leave off .singing for hours and 

At four o'clock in the afternoon a smart open 
carriage stopped at the gates of. a certain exhi- 
bition in Marylebone Road. The horses had 




wedding rosettes at their ears, there was a wed- 
ding favor on the whip, and the coachman wore 
a huge bouquet. And out of the carriage who 
should step but Lucy and Lydia and Harry 
Bower and old Mr. Scarlett ! Lucy had a little 
parcel in her hand, neatly tied up with white 
ribbon, of which she was taking the greatest 
care. Lydia and Harry and Mr. Scarlett had 
a number of smaller parcels in their pockets. 

They had been several times to the exhibition 
lately, as had all the other persons who lived in 
Marybud Lodge, and Lorimer Grimweed as 
well, and more than once Mr. Scarlett had said: 

" Oh, yes, I dessay ! You may make believe 
to be wax, but Belinda knows. Oh, you 'Enery 
the Heighth — you are a funny one ! " 

And she caused further astonishment, when 
she stood before Loushkin the Russian giant, by 
looking up at him and informing him that it was 
her day out next Monday. 

Miss Pennyback, on her visit, would have 
liked to box Mme. Tussaud's ears, but fear of 
consequences restrained her. " Where is that 
mysterious cane ? " she thought. She peered in 
every direction, without catching sight of it. 

As for Lorimer Grimweed, he hardlv knew 


" I suppose it did all happen, Lucy ? " 
" Oh, papa ! " answered Lucy. " Such a 
question ! " 

But the same thought had occurred to others 
— to Miss Pennyback, for instance, and the 
Marchioness of Barnet, and Sir Rowley, and 
FKp of the Odd. Not to Belinda. She never 
had a doubt on the subject. Indeed, when she 
visited the exhibition with the order which Mme. 
Tussaud had given her, she astonished persons 
standing near her by saying in quite a loud voice: 

what to think. He had read in the newspapers 
the astonishing accounts of the human beings 
who had been transfixed in ^hne. Tussaud's 
exhibition, and of their wonderful coming to life 
again, and although when he thought of the 
last day and night he had spent in Marybud 
Lodge he sometimes shook his head, he had 
too wholesome a fear of the power of the magic 
cane ever to dispute the lease, or ever to trouble 
the Scarlett family more. 

And now here were Lucy and her papa, and 





the bride and bridegroom, walking through the 
exhibition, while the carriage waited for them 
at the gates. They stopped at every one of 
their old friends, and to her special favorites 
Lucy said softly : 

" How do you do ? This is dear Lydia's 
wedding-day, and she could n't go honeymoon- 
ing without coming to tell you." 

The figures stared straight before them and 
said nothing. 

" Of course you must n't move or speak," 
whispered Lucy,confitlentially, " because people 
are about. We quite understand that, so please 
don't disturb yourselves. But we know you 
wish her joy. Don't you think she is a beau- 
tiful bride ? Every one in the church said she 
was the most lovely bride that eier was seen. 
And she is." 

The small ])arcels with which the pockets of 
the bridal party were filled contained chocolate 
creams, and wherever they moved they looked 
for places in which to secrete them, where the 
visitors would not be likely to see them. It was 
more difficult to get rid of the larger parcel 
which Lucy carried, but presently, when they 
were close to Shakspere's platform, Lydia said : 

•• Now, Lucy, quick ! No one 's looking." 

Like lightning Lucy glided behind the plat- 
form and dropjjed her parcel there. No one 
e,\cei)t themselves saw her do it, or knew she 
had done anything at all. 

They remained a long time by Mme. Tus- 
saud's side. 

" Dear, dear Mme. Tussaud' " whispered 
Lucy. " We could n't let the day pass without 
coming to see you. We all are so happy — oh, 
so happy! Lydia is Mrs. Harry Bower now. 
Does n't it sound grand ? Mrs. — Harry — 
Bower! And all through you! Oh, how grate- 
ful we are to you! AVe have put posies of 
!NLirybud flowers under the seats, and some 
orange-blossoms, too, and bags of chocolate 
creams everywhere. And listen, please. I 
have just dropped behind Shakspere's ])latform 
a paper parcel with — what do you think in 
it ? Fourteen — i)ieces — of — wedding — cake 
— tied — up — with — white — ribbon. With 
our love — with our dear love. The large piece 
is for you, the others for the celebrities. Gi\e 
them all our love, please. Good-by. We shall 
come again — often. Good-by — good-by. We 
can't stop any longer now, for fear Lydia 
and Harry should miss the train. They are 
going to Hc)neymoon Land." 



By Norman D. Gray. 

' I woNDAH," said Sambo, '■ whah I 'd go 
Ef I turned back-somasets on de flo' 
Jes' on an' on an' out ob de do', 
An' nebah, nebah stopped no mo'. 
I 'specs I 'd git inter yiste'day sho' — 
An' mebbe inter de day befo'." 




In a great big wooden box, 

Nice and smooth, to save her frocks. 

Is the baby's sand-pile, where all day she plays; 
And the things she thinks she makes. 
From a house and barn to cakes. 

Would keep, I think, her family all their days. 

Once she said she 'd make a pie,— 

Or, at least, she 'd like to try, — 
So up she straightway rolled each tiny sleeve ; 

For her plums she used some stones, 

Made a fire of cedar cones — 
Is'ot a real fire, vou know, but make-believe. 


Next slie baked some Ijuns and bread, 
" For my dollies," so she said, 
" 'Cause, you see, they like my cooking best of all " ; 
Though her flour was only sand, 
Dolls, she knew, would understand. 
And excuse her if her batch of dough should fall. 

Sometimes cook will miss a pan, 

Or a bowl, or spoon, or can ; 
But I think she 's very sure where they '11 lie found 

For she knows it 's just such things 

Baby uses when she brings 
.Ml her dollies to her sand-pile on the ground. 

.£iL . 


'•" ^ " "ITT- 


By G. G. King. 


I FOLLOW beauty, over earth 

And under sea ; 
The fairies gave her at my birth 

For bride to me. 

The fairies gave me at my birth 

A wandering will, 
A restless heart, that all the girth 

O' the world can't fill. 

The fairies gave me, to set me free 
From change and time, 

The heart to feel, the eye to see. 
The lips of rhyme. 



A RARE bright flower beneath the trees. 

Hey, nonny, nonny ! 
Dipped and danced to the wayward breeze, 
Scarlet and gold and full of honey, 
Glad to the eye and sweet for the bees. 

Hey, nonny, nonny ! 

A wanderer, caught in a soft spring shower, 

Hey, nonny, nonny ! 
Stayed at the tree and stooped to the 

He plucked for his bosom the blossom 

But the flower was dead within the hour. 
Hey, nonny, nonny! 


over; the HILLS. 

My father was the piper's son — 
He played o' his pipe till day was done ; 
His heart was as wild as the winds that say, 
" Come over the hills and far away ! " 
Over the hills and a great way on. 
The wind blows out of the gates of the sun. 

The birds that wing their way through the 

Direct my feet to the strange and new, 
And the open road runs straight and free ; 
It calls and calls till it tortures me. 
Over the hills where the sunset lies. 
Till the stars grow pale and the night wind dies. 


By W. J. Henderson. 

Almost every one has seen some kind of mil- 
itary drill. It would be difficult to tind a boy 
who had never heard the orders " Right, face " 
or " Forward, march." Then, too, it is easy 
for people to visit places where regular military 
companies are quartered. At such places as 
Governor's Island and Fort Hamilton in New- 
York Bay one may readily see a drill or dress- 

But very few persons know anything what- 
ever about naval drills. Our men-of-war are 
not to be seen in every town and village. 
Even in our great seaports comparatively few- 
persons know anything about the coming and 
going of war-ships except what they read in the 
papers. The number of those who have been 
aboard war-ships is very small compared with 
those who have visited military posts or en- 
campments, w-hile the number of those who 
have been present at drills is still smaller. Peo- 
ple who do see men-of-war in the course of 
their evolutions usually view them from the 
shore or from other ships. I remember on one 
occasion sitting in the stern-sheets of the Con- 
cord's second cutter during a drill in the North 
River, and noticing the thousands of people on 
the shore. I said to myself: '-How little those 
people see of this drill, after all! They see the 
boats moving up toward the flag-ship, and fall- 
ing into their positions, and that is certainly 
a very pretty sight ; but they know nothing 
about how it is all done, or what it is all for." 

I have had the advantage of being privileged 
— perhaps I should say "obliged" — to learn 
these things from close observation and personal 
participation. While I was an officer in the naval 
militia for eleven years it was my duty to ac- 
quaint myself with naval drills. So now- I wish 
to tell the boys something about one of them. 

Let us suppose that w-e are aboard a man- 
of-war in a squadron waiting for the signal to 
embark in the boats for a " cutting out " expe- 
dition. " Cutting out " means capturing a ves- 

VoL. XXXI.— ii6. 9: 

sel by means of an expedition of boats. This 
process is nearly out of date now, but it will 
serve as an illustration. 

Imagine a hostile ship lying at anchor in an 
apparently secure position on a dark and cloudy 
night. There is just enough breeze and sea to 
make sounds on the water indistinct. Around 
a low headland half a mile aw-ay from the an- 
chored vessel steal four or five boats, pulled 
with muffled oars and filled with armed men. 
They approach noiselessly. 

Perhaps they are not discovered and thus 
reach the sides of the ship. The next instant 
the armed men are pouring over her bulwarks 
and a desperate fight takes place on her decks. 
Perhaps they are discovered before they reach 
the vessel's side. The alarm is given. The 
men in the boats hear it, and lash their oars 
through the water in a determined effort to reach 
the ship before the rapid-fire guns can open 
upon them. Flashes of fire illumine the night. 
The search-lights send out shafts of blinding 
white. The sharp peals of the six and three 
pounders, the rapid hoarse barking of Hotch- 
kiss revolving cannon, the vicious sputter of 
Catlings, break upon the frightened air. " Give 
way with a will ! " .shout the officers of the boats, 
as the men bend to the oars and the light guns 
in the bows hurl their defiant answers back at 
the wall-sided ship. As the boats sweep up to 
the vessel's side, gongs clang and rattles sound, 
calling away the riflemen to repel boarders from 
the boats. If the boats' crew-s can board the 
ship and clap down her hatches before the 
crew gets on deck, theirs is the victory ; but if 
her secondary battery is manned and her rifle- 
men stationed before the boats are alongside, 
then good-by to the boat expedition ; for there 
is nothing more pitiless than Catlings and re- 
volving cannon. 

I do not purpose to give you all the details 
of this drill. That would be too much like re- 
printing the instructions. In a general way, 



however, let me tell you how such a drill is 

In the first place, aboard a ship things have 
to be stowed away very compactly so as to take 
up as little room as possible and not to go flying 
about when the vessel is tossing in a seaway. 
The same rule applies to a boat. Now I dare 
say that if I were to ask a boy what should be 
carried in a boat going on a cutting-out expedi- 
tion, he would reply, " Rifles and ammunition 
and oars." That answer would be correct, but 
far from full. The number of things that must 
be carried in a boat is astonishing to a lands- 
man. Let me enumerate a few of them. First 
of all there is the boat-box, fitted to go under 
the thwarts of the boat. Among other things, 
it contains an ax, a hatchet, a saw, nails, a 
marlinspike, spun yarn, grease, sail needles, 
a boat compass, boat ensign, pennant, answer- 
ing pennant, lead and hne, lantern, mats for 
muffling oars, and hand grapnels. If there is 
no boat-box, these articles have to be brought 
from the places in which they are stored and 
put into the boat before she leaves her ship's 
side. The senior officer of each ship's division 
of boats must have in his boat a set of signals, 
a spy-glass, and a medicine-chest. 

Again, each boat must be provided with her 
anchor and cable, oars and boat-hooks. Next 
the proper number of rifles, cutlasses, pistols, car- 
tridges, and cartridge boxes and belts must be 
put into each boat. Lastly, if the boat mounts 
a gun of any kind, that must be attended to. It 
is always one of the smaller guns of the ship's 
secondary battery, and it must be dismounted 
from its position aboard the ship, lowered into 
the boat by means of a block and tackle rigged 
from a yard-arm or the outboard end of a boom. 

You will at once see that where there are so 
many things to be done, system is absolutely 
necessary. In the first place, every man knows 
his position in the boat. The moment the sig- 
nal comes to clear away boats for cutting out, 
each man knows exactly what he has to do. 

Suppose you are standing on the poop-deck 
of the Concord when the flag-ship gives the sig- 
nal. Instantly the decks are covered with active 
blue-jackets. In one place you see two or 
three men dismounting a three-pounder from 
the ship's bulwarks. In another direction you 

see two fellows bringing up rifles, stowed in 
boxes, from the armory. The same men bring 
revolvers, cutlasses, and belts. Still other men 
descend to the ammunition-rooms and bring up 
cartridges for the rifles and revolvers and shells 
for the three-pounder. Others bringthe compass, 
the lantern, and other boat equipments. In the 
meantime others lower the boat. As fast as the 
equipments are brought they are taken down 
the accommodation ladder and stowed in their 
proper places in the boat. The officer who is 
in command of the boat stands at the top of the 
ladder and sees that everything is correctly 
done. Finally the crew enters the boat. In a 
cutting-out expedition the design is to carry as 
many men as can be taken in each boat with- 
out interfering with her safe and speedy manage- 
ment. From three to five marines go in each 
boat, armed as riflemen. All the extra men are 
stowed in such a way as not to hamper the 
movements of the oarsmen. At last the ofiicer 
of the boat takes his place in the stem-sheets. 
Behind him sits the cockswain and in front of 
him a naval cadet with a fleet signal-book, by 
means of which he is to interpret the signals 
shown by the flag-ship. 

The senior ofiicer of the ship has command 
of the steam-launch. She goes to the head of 
the line. The next ranking ofiicer brings his 
boat up astern of her and the end of the second 
boat's painter is made fast at the stern of the 
launch. The other boats make fast in proper 
order, one astern of the other. The propeller 
of the launch revolves, and away she goes, tow- 
ing the string of boats behind her. In actual 
service she would let them go when far enough 
away from the object of attack to escape de- 
tection. In drill she keeps them in tow all 
through the exercise unless orders to do differ- 
ent are signaled from the flag-ship. 

The signals are made by flags hoisted at the 
main-yard-arm. The principal flags represent 
numerals from i to o, and the flags next in im- 
portance are "repeaters." To make the signal 
253, for instance, the flag- ship would hoist three 
square flags. The uppermost would be yellow 
with a black ball in it, which means 2. The 
second would be half white and half red, the 
separation between the colors being a diagonal 
line. That means 5. The third would be plain 

19041 A NAVAL nOAT DRILL. 923 

blue, signifying 3. The officer with the signal- this hoist — two, first repeater, seven. If the 

book turns to 253 and finds the order oppo- signal were 722 the hoist would be seven, 

site that number. He announces it to the two, second repeater. If the signal were 7022, 

officer in command of the boat. The seaman the hoist would be seven, cipher, two, third re- 

who has the answering pennant at once raises peater. At night colored lights are used for 

it. This means that the signal is seen and signaling. 

understood. All the boats keep their answering Each boat has a number, which is on a flag 

pennants up till the senior officer's boat hauls flown at the bow, so that a special order can be 

down the signal- flag. given to any particular boat. I think that a well- 

The hoisting of a set of signals at the com- conducted boat drill is one of the most pic- 

manding ship's main-yard is the order of prep- turesque pieces of work to be seen on the water; 

aration. The order of e.xecution is the haul- but what I have told you must make it clear 

ing down of those signals. The " repeater " that any one who views it from a distance sees 

pennants are used in case any figure occurs little of the interesting details that are appre- 

twice in the same signal. Thus 227 would give ciated by those on the ships themselves. 



By Palmer Cox. 

There was a great and grand estate 

In lands beyond the seas, 
With hedges green, and lawns between, 

And rare old spreading trees. 

The fawn and hare in safety there 
Could browse upon the hill. 

Or seek their lair in dingle fair 
Beside the purling rill. 

And once a year the elves would here 

Assemble on the green, 
With hearts elate to celebrate 

The birthday of their queen. 

By every way at close of day, 
To reach the lovely grounds, 

They tripped along with shout and song, 
To dance their merry rounds. 

For years the baron and his bride 
Had blessed the little elves. 

And rightly thought their coming 
Good fortune to themselves. 

But when the couple side by side 
Were laid beneath the yew, 

To other hands went house and 
As fortunes often do. 

The next of kin now stepping in 

To titles and estate 
Regarded with a like contempt 

A small sprite's love and hate. 

'and once a year the elves would hehe assemble on the green. 




And when he held possession clear, 
This solemn oath he swore : 
" As I 'm a peer, the elf bands here 
Shall congregate no more. 

" My place shall be from goblins free; 
With no consent of mine. 
Shall they convene upon the green 
To tramp the clover fine." 

But when the birthday of the queen 

Was ushered in by June, 
When stars were bright and daisies 

And everything in tune. 

Through woody lane and grassy plain, 

.\s fast as they could pour, 
The little men ran there again, 

.\s oft they 'd run before. 

The old and spare, the young and fair, 

In spirit all combined ; 
For it was right on such a night 

That none should stay behind. 

But soon as they began their play. 

The baron heard the rout. 
And lifting up the sash he thrust 

His anxious visage out. 

" Oh, ho ! " cried he, " the rogues, I see, 
Are mustering on the lawn, 
To revel there in open air 

Until the early dawn. 

" Now by the coronet I wear — 
A masterpiece of art — 
And by the honored name I bear, 
I '11 play the hero's part ! 

" I 'U take my saber from the wall 
And liberate the hound. 
And with a shout go charging out. 
To drive them from the ground ! " 

Then cried his wife, " Give me a knife ! 

I can some aid supply. 
Ten years have fled since we w^ere wed ; 

With you I live or die ! " 

Quoth he, "There 's danger in the glen 
I would not have you share; 

I go not out to fight with men. 
But demons of the air." 

" Come weal or woe, with you I '11 go!" 

The Ipving wife replied, 
" Because in danger's hour, you know, 

My place is by your side." 


■•and lifting I'P THE SASH HE THKIST HIS 

Said he, " It 's true, my dear, so you 

May bear in hand a light ; 
For, though my heart is good as new, 

I own a failing sight." 

Then from a nook the sword he took 
His grandsire used to wear 

When doing service in the field 
Against the Russian Bear. 

And out they sallied through the door 
That opened on the green, 

The wife behind, the man-before. 
The baying hound between. 




But he who fights with elfin sprites 

The enterprise will rue ; 
No common foe are they, I trow, 

For mortal to subdue. 

Now quick as thought the elves they caught 

The grass with nimble hand. 
And every blade was deftly made 

To serve for tripping band. 

The baron brave a flourish gave. 
And, eager for the fray. 

A charge essayed with lifted blade, 
But stumbled in dismay. 

He tried in vain with might and main 

To keep his balance true. 
But when a snare had caught him fair 

What could the baron do ? 

So down at last, both hard and fast, 

Across the baying hound. 
With heels above his body cast. 

He tumbled to the ground. 




His coronet, so richly set 
With jewels large and bright, 

Forsook his head that moment dread, 
And vanished from his sight. 

The saber clean had service seen 

In every peopled zone; 
But now it flew and broke in two 

Across a mossy stone. 

Now faster still his cup to fill, 
The lady, in affright, 

Without a thought a climax wrought 
By letting fall the light. 

The sudden gloom left little room 

For operations bold ; 
He felt that hour the elfin power, 

And at its mercy rolled. 

" Seboy ! " he cried, and bravely tried. 
By shout and clap of hand. 
To turn the tide and scatter wide 
The cunning elfin band. 

■V\IUI ItLELo ALu.i. Hli Lu^i t-Ail, HL TLMbLED "I o 1 HL ui.uLMJ. 



But vain the hope to longer cope, 
And vain were clap and cheer. 

The savage bay had died away 
To plaintive notes of fear. 

And looking round he saw the hound, 

Pursued by three or four, 
Departing through the flying dew — 

And never saw him more. 

Now to his aid ran wife and maid. 

The serving-men and all ; 
And from the fight, a sorry sight, 

They bore him to the hall. 

Behind him stayed the broken blade. 
As well his broidered shoes, 

And coronet with jewels set 
It grieved his heart to lose. 

While on the lawn until the dawn 
The elves they played around. 

Or danced their sets and minuets. 
The masters of the ground. 

And every year they still appear, 
As sure as comes the night. 

In honor of the reigning queen 
To dance till morning light. 

But when the baron sallies out, 
As forth that night he ran. 

To put the elfin band to rout. 
He '11 be an older man. 


]5v CiiARi.ciri I. C. Parsons. 

On a bright July day a train came rushing more to licr than a careless onlooker imag- 

into the little station of Innsbruck, filled to over- ined, for the Howers were edelweiss, and every 

(lowing with all the ..SV///V/3dV/7v/-<7//^, or shooters' one that is plucked from its high mountain 

associations, of the neighboring country ; and home contains a lover's tender thought, 
such a noisy greeting as they received! The It was a relief to escape from the noise of 

trumpets tooted, the drums beat, and the shout- the holiday and take refuge within the quiet 
ing of manv nianlv voices 

I '-A 

made the welkin ring. 

This was the opening 
day of the Schutzen- 
fest, we were told, an 
important event to the 
heart of every true son of 
the Tyrol. The visitors 
were portioned off to 
their res])ective hosts, 
who received them liter- 
ally with open arms. The 
little town was brilliant 
with gay decorations and 
banners, and brightly 
colored stuff's hung from 
the windows, framing the 
pretty faces of the Inns- 
bruck women and young 
girls, as their bright eyes 
followed with |)ride the 
brave forms of their hus- 
bands, brothers, and lov- 
ers, whom they passed in 
procession through the 
streets of the town. 

One stalwart fellow, as 
he |)assed a rosy-cheeked, 
black-eyed lass, took a 
bunch of flowers from his [ 
high pointed-crowned 
peasant hal. and tossed ; 
them to her. She caught 
them, pressed them shyly 
to her lips, and tucked 
them carefully away in 
her bodice. This meant 
Vol. XWI.— 117-118. 






walls of the Hof Kirche. In the dim religious 
light we saw a great white marble sarcophagus. 


surmounted by a kneeling figure in bronze. As 
our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, there 
gradually appeared about us many life-sized 
figures in the strange costumes and armor of 
jjast ages. These were about the tomb of Maxi- 
milian I, and the twenty-eight figures standing 
in solemn order are his heroic ancestors, who 
watch and mourn by his side ; for the kneel- 
ing figure is that of the Emperor Maximilian. 
Our old school-book friends seem to rise be- 
fore us. Kunigunde, the emperor's sister, his 
mother, Elenora, and his wife, Maria of Bur- 
gundy, are there. Charles the Bold, Philip le 
lion, Godfrey de Bouillon, and good King 
Arthur of England stand watch in armor clad. 
It is an impressive sight to see these great 
l)ronze figures standing so motionless on their 

The marble reliefs on the sarcophagus are 
very beautiful. The great Master Thorwaldsen 
calls them "perfect" — what can be greater 
praise? As one pauses at the comparatively 
simple tomb of brave old Andreas Hofer, he 
realizes that pomp and glory are for those in 
high places and great in this world's goods. 

Before leaving the church we ascended the 
steps to the Silver Chapel, to pay our respects 
to the tombs of Archduke Ferdinand and his 
wife ; then we left the church behind us, driv- 
ing through the town and across the valley up 
to their old home, the picturesque old Castle 
Ambras. During their lifetime the old castle 
became a perfect treasure-house. Many of the 





tions of 

objects in the collections and libiar\ in him. Wandering about the forsaken rooms, 

were originally placed by Ferdinand in where so little now remains to remind one of the 

Ambras, and one of the finest collec- grandeur and beauty of Ferdinand's time, we 

armor in existence formeriy belonged to found an old jewel-case and writing-desk which 




had belonged to the beautiful archduchess. 
Many baoks have been filled with the praises 
of this noble woman, and many stories are told 
of her good and unselfish life. She was almost 
idoHzed by the people of Innsbruck and the 
neighboring country. Her beautiful face has 

to the old castle, for it seemed to us as if every 
loyal-hearted .American tourist should pay his 
respects to the discoverer of America. 

Columbus is here pictured holding a banner, 
the staft' of which rests on the globe. In the 
right-hand lower corner is a shield bearing a 


been immortalized on canvas and in marble by ship, and around the border of the shield is the 

many an admiring artist. 

Near by we found a large portrait of Chris- 
topher Columbus. This is said to be one of 
the few authentic portraits of Columbus in exis- 
tence. Indeed, this was the object of our visit 

motto given to him by the Spanish sovereigns : 

.\ Castilla i a Leon 
Xuevo mundo di Colo. 

[To Caslile and Leon 
Columbus tjave a new world.] 



As we drove back to the town the sun was 
setting, casting a veil of many tints over the 
beautiful valley, touching the mountain-tops 
with filory, and making 
every modest peasant 
hut and village spire 
believe itself beautiful 
enough to be a part of 
the exquisite landscape. 

On the way to our ho- 
tel we passed the house 
with the golden roof 
(Goldne Dachl). It was 
built by Count Frederick 
of the Tyrol, history 
tells us, in 1425. He 
was nicknamed " Empty 
Pockets." He naturally 
resented this charge, 
even if it were true, and 
had a gorgeous roof of 
pure gold placed on his 
balcony. This must 
have emptied his pock- 
ets, indeed, for it cost 
him seventy thousand 
dollars. The gold has 
been removed, and no- 
thing now remains but 
the dull copper founda- 
tion. The little palace, 
with its background of 
dark mountains, with 

patches of snow shining on tiieir tops like a bit 
of forgotten winter, and the minaret-tojiijed 
tower with its big clock face, make a pictur- 
esque little corner to delight an artist's eye. 

Hungry and tired, we returned to our hotel 
in time for table d'hote, the important event of 
the day, as all good traveleis know, in every 


V-^. »■■ 



Clerman Giist/iaus, be it village inn or preten- 
tious hotel. Thus ended our summer's day at 
Innsbruck — a day full of interest and profit,and 
one not soon to be forgotten. 


On summer evenings on the lawn 

It 's always lots of fun ; 
We sit and talk of many things 

And watch the setting sun. 

But when I want to listen most 

To everything that 's said. 
Some one is sure to me, 
" Come, dear, it 's time for bed." 


Once on a time, so it is said, 

There flourished an ill-tempered lily 

That pushed the pink from the garden bed 
Into the pathway, willy-nilly. 

It loved at night within its cup 
To prison bumblebees unwary, 

Until the sun in wrath rose up 
And forced its petals, so contrary. 


The gardener wise, much put about, 
Scolded in vain. His counsel spurning, 

It rudely stuck its stamens out. 

Each mocking petal upward turning. 

But every action leaves its trace, 
And, stained with vicious deeds and 

The flower with anger- reddened face 
Became a raging tiger-lilv. 

TlIK GRKATEST SUuW l.\ Till': S1:A. 


■-^J ^ -^^^^^ 

O.r T7 — 

ret Ktrtni. 

- ^>-- 

"^i*i:,. I ill iiAft-V 


^' >ili^ 1^ 

Naiureay?c^.Science/S/- Young-Folks- 

Edited by Edward F. Bi5el**w. 

In the whole history of change of foiin, that wonderful chapter in the life of animals, there is nothing more strange or mure interest- 
ing than the hydroids and jellyfishes. First, as little floating, glass-like spheres, covered with fine, moving, hair-like attachments, by 
means of which they move with great rapidity : then as communities fixed to the ground, and increasing by budding tike the corals or mul- 
tiplying by self-division; and later as free-swimming jellyfishes, many of them pass through phases which have long puzzled the natural- 
ists, and have only recently been truly understooti. — Condensed from "Seaside Studies in Natural History,'* by Elisabeth C. Agassiz 
and Professor Alexander Agassiz. 


Any one familiar with the sea-shore must 
many times have seen those strange animals 
known as jellyfishes, which float so 
lazily yet gracefully through the 
water, or lie spread out upon the 
beach, having been thrown there 
by the waves. Few animals are 
more beautiful than some of these 
delicate, transparent jellyfishes 
when thev are in the water, or 


This close re- 
semblance often 
makes these ani- 
mals regarded as 
plants by those 
who have not 
studied them. 

(P£.V,V4R/1 TtARELLA). 

The future jellyfishes arise as buds from the 
sides of the tiny flowers on a branch. 

less attractive than these same animals when 
they are out of the water : for then they appear 
only as shapeless masses of jelly. When they 
are in their natural element, the salt water, 

they cannot fail 
to excite the 
notice and the 
enthusiasm of 
everv one inter- 
ested in living 
tilings in the 
ocean. Some are 
shaped like sau- 
cers, while still 
others are in 
the shape of 
deep cups bear- 
ing long delicate 
streamers; these 
float out grace- 
fully in the wa- 
ter, showing a 
variety of col- 
ors. Beautiful 
as these animals 
may be, how- 
ever, they are 
not in all re- 
spects harmless, 
and if one is 
in bathing he 


This shows how readily one may be 
deceived and gather these animals and 
press them on a card, thinking that they 
are plants (seaweeds). Some of the tiny 
flower-like portions produce jellyfishes. 
.An enlarged view of one of these is showft 
in the lower right-hand corner. 




should be careful not to allow the long 
streamers to get wound around his bare arms, 
or to trail upon his flesh, for each one is armed 
with thousands of minute jioisonous darts long 
enough to pierce the skin and capable of pro- 
ducing a slight stinging effect. Jellyfishes are 
not infrequently called sea-nettles because of 
this stinging power. The stinging is not very 
severe, but if one is bathing it is extremely un- 

Jellyfishes are of various sizes. Some of 
them are so small that it requires a microscope 
to .see them ; others are just large enough to 
be seen with the naked eye ; some are the size 
of a pea, while others, the best known on our 
shores, are as large as a saucer or dinner-plate, 
and sometimes even larger. They are nearly 
transparent, and are made ligViiostly of water. 
If one of tliem is taken out of the ocean and 
allowed to dry, as the water evaporates almost 
nothing is left. 


Jellyfishes are not really complete, but only 
parts of animals. The animals from which they 
come are known as hydroids. They are very 
small, sometimes no larger around than a 
common cambric-needle, seldom larger than a 
knitting-needle, and rarely more than a half- 
inch or an inch in length. They grow in clus- 

(Also showing root-like .ituchments to the soil.) 
"Tliey grow in clusters, usually attached to stones or shells or 
logs, and are mistaken by most persons for bits of moss or little 
plants growing upon the stones." 

ters, usually attached to stones or shells or logs, 
and are mistaken by most persons for bits of 
moss or little plants growing upon the stones. 
Yet these tiny creatures pro<luce the large jelly- 
fishes which appear on the sides or tops of the 
little hydroids as small buds. After a time 
each bud breaks awav from tlic .nnimal that pro- 
duced it and grows 
into a jelly fish. Each 
hydroid may pro- 
duce a large number 
of jellvfishcs, all of 
which break away 
from the mother 
and swim over the 
ocean, growing to a 
size very much lar 
ger than that of the 
animal which pm- 
iluced them. In 
time they produce 
eggs which grow 
into new animals, volsg'hvdrou.s. 

not into new jelly- Some swimming and some attached. 




droid. They sometimes collect in great schools, 
and hundreds of them are frequently found 
swimming together. A jellyfish, then, is not 
a complete animal, but only a special swim- 
ming-organ developed for the purpose of dis- 
tributing the eggs as widely as possible. 

Nearly all jellyfishes are found in the ocean. 
Only one fresh-water species is known. This 
has been discovered in Africa. They are in 
all parts of the ocean, but particularly abun- 
dant in warmer waters. The largest species 


Later these break away and become jellyfishes, as shown 
in the illustration in the next column. 

fishes, like the animals that produced them, but 
rather into little hydroid animals which attach 
themselves to rocks and seaweed. These hy- 
droids in their turn produce jellyfishes, which 
start out upon the ocean for the purpose of 
distributing their eggs. They sometimes swim 
a great nianv miles from the mother hy- 


Showing the buds and flower-like parts that break away to pro- 
duce jellyfishes- A free-swimming jellyfish is also shown in the upper 
part of the illustration. 


" A jellyfish, then, is not a complete animal, but only a .special 
swimming-organ developed for the purpose of distributing the eggs 
as widely as possible." 

are in the southern waters, although some large 
ones live farther north. Not many years ago 
they could frequently be seen in the large 
harbors of this country, but in many of these 
harbors the water has become so polluted from 
the sewage that is poured into it that the jelly- 
fishes have wholly disappeared. 

To see the jellyfish at its best, put it in a 
deep glass jar and look at \i from the side. ^\ e 
miss most of the beauty by seeing them as a 
mass of drying jelly cast upon the beach, or 
even by looking down on the top of them as 
they float in the water. H. VV. Conn. 




of snow-water that are i)resent at tliis season of 
tlie year. sunmu-r I saw a sight that convinced 
me that it is this sw«-t.-n(-,1 wat.-r that leads 


When I was a cliild J was very fond of 
sweets (and what child is not?), and mv mother 
used to say, " You liave 
a big sweet tooth." 
Crown-up people, too, 
usually have a "sweet 
tooth," although they 
make less ado about it 
than children. 

This love of sweets 
is very common in our 
animal neighbors, from 
the bee to the horse. 
If you want to please a 
horse, try giving him 
two or three himpa of 

Not only the bees, 
but the wasps, flies, 
butterflies, and indeed 
nearly all insects, are 
conspicuously attracted 
to sweets, and it is this 
sweet tooth which leads 
theinscct to visit flowers 
and thus help them to 
I'rnduce seeds. 

W'Uan I was a boy I 
used frequently to find 
miceand flying-squirrels 
drowned in the ijuckcts 
of sap which had just 
run from the sugar-ma- 
ples. I used to think 
the poor things got 
thirsty and died trying 
to get water ; but water 
is everywhere jjresent 
and can be got without 
taking the risk of enter- 
ing a contrivance which 
might be a trap and 
certainly is so strange as 
to be naturally avoided 
by the wild things nn 

1 . ^"'"o" Un- —■■■■■•!• MAUK By A WOODPECKER IM tmk T ., • 1 ,• . "" 

less mduced by some ''^'"'' "" " "'""'''' '"•":»-""^>^- ' "°"" ""feed for the first time. Look- 

attraction stronger than a thirst which can h. . ,'"" '"""'^ ^'"^^'y- ^ ^^^ that the tree small animals into danger, and 
I think it will convince you when I 
have told you about it. I was stand- 
ing on a hillside, gazing at a beautiful 
view of a quiet white-housed village 
set in green meadows and surrounded 
by tree-covered hills. So entran- 
cing was the view that I stood 
several minutes before I became 
i,TaduaIly aware of a humtning 
- sound just above my head. 
Looking up, I saw a humming- 
oird flitting up and down, and, just 
above, a red squirrel sitting motion- 
less and intently gazing at me. "Oh 
you rascal ! " I .said to the .squirrel,' 
" you have dined off humming-birds' 
eggs, and the poor mother is trying to 
get you to go away." But I had done 
him an injustice, for as I stood look- 
iiig at him he suddenly started from 
his motionless position as though as- 
sured that I was harmless, and with 
quick motions began to rub his nose 
up and down the bark of the tree in 
a way that was entirely new to me. 
As soon as the squirrel left Jiis perch, 
the humming-bird flew to the tree and 
began sticking his bill into some of the 

RHD sQtmRF.Ls AND „f .MMma-.URD EN- „ -■-•■« ';■••'-... uno some Ol the 

"V^r r,"" '"■■'" '" '='" ■'"■■^- ■"<"« THE numerous holes in its bark. These holes 

1'>l.Eb MADE By A WOODPECKKU iv. i-u,. T • , , . _ cv. iiv^icB 




and in addition I could see places where the 
sap had trickled down the side of the tree and 
partially dried. Tasting this, I found it plainly 
sweet but somewhat fermented. Here, then. 
was the solution of the queer behavior of bird 
and squirrel. The squirrel's sweet tooth had led 
him to the feeding-ground of the humming- 
bird, much to the latter's fear and annoyance. 

The bark of the birch had been fairly riddled 
with holes by some woodpecker (probably the 
sapsucker) earlier in the season, and the sap 
had oozed from a hundred wounds. 

Higher up in the tree I discovered another 
red squirrel, also lapping (or rubbing) the syrup 
from the bark of the tree. Lower down a 
large slug, nearly two inches long, was quietly 
enjoying the indulgence of his sweet tooth, 
more scientifically known as lingual ribbon. 
There were also the large numbers of flies of 
various kinds that are always to be found 
where anything sweet is exposed. 

It seems probable that the possession of a 
sweet tooth is far more common among ani- 
mals than is generally known. The boy or girl 
enjoying a box of candy can also enjoy the 
thought that he or she is having one of the 
pleasures common to a large proportion of the 
animal kingdom. A. J. Griu't. 


These three storms have many points in 
common, vet they are so unhke that no careful 



person need ever confuse them in his own 
mind. The ordinary land cyclone is usually 
quite harmless, and it is only by a mistaken use 
of the term that it has become associated with 
those terrifying storms peculiar to our country 
known as tornadoes. Cyclones have a bad rep- 
utation because they are commonly associated 
with other more harmful storms. Instead of be- 
ing dangerous and destructive they are the chief 
source of rain in spring and autumn and supply 
the snow which adds so much to the pleasure 
of our Northern winter. They cover a large ex- 
tent of territory at one time, and on an average 
follow one another across the country from west 
to east at intervals of about three days. 

A tornado often does great damage. It is 
known bv its funnel-shaped cloud, which 
bounds and bounces along, now high in the 
air and again touching the ground. Where it 
skims along the ground the havoc is greatest. 
Here the mightiest structures of man are crushed 
in an instant before the avalanches of wind 
let loose from every direction. The air seems 
to have an e.xplosive force, buildings falling 
outward instead, of inward as one might think. 
In such a storm no place is safe, but the 
southwest corner of a cellar affords the best 
protection obtainable. If in the open, lie 
flat on the ground. During a tornado, which 
lasts but a few minutes, the sky is covered by 
clouds of inky blackness, which here and there 
take on a livid greenish Iiue. The surface 

«9«4 1 



winds rush spirally upward into the funnel- 
shaped cloud, carrying with them many articles 
which are afterward dropped some distance 
bevond. The danger zone is confined to a path 
less than a half-mile in width and one hundred 
miles in length. These storms occur only on 

The true hurricane is ocean-horn. On the 
high seas of the tropics it marshals its forces 
of wind and wave, before which the stoutest 
ship is heli)less and the fairest islands are laid 
waste. Even the sturdy mainland trembles 

summer months. The cyclone is a universal 
storm which travels over land and sea, in 
season and out of season, in spring or in fall, 
in summer or in winter. It is an old friend, 
hut one much abused. 

Alvi.v T. lifRRows. 


.An unusual feather-guessing contest was 
recently conducted by a prominent company 
manufacturing feed for poultry. Five hundred 


under its awful castigation. These ocean 
storms last much longer than tornadoes, cover 
more territory, and cause more damage. The 
hurricane which overwhelmed Galveston de- 
stroyed several thousand lives and millions of 
dollars' worth of property. The West India 
Islands are frequently scourged by these aw-ful 
visitations, and our own Atlantic coast some- 
times feels the lash of these dreaded storms. 

Both the hurricane and the tornado are rare. 
The former seldom extends far inland, and 
usually occurs in the late summer or fall. Tor- 
nadoes are products of the South and West and 
are mostly confined to the spring and early 

dollars in prizes was offered for best estimates 
or guesses as to the number of feathers on a 
hen. The first prize was one hundred dollars. 
Thousands of guesses were received, in- 
cliuling some very amusing ones. One guesser, 
who was probably looking for some " catch " 
scheme, estimated " none at all." Many esti- 
mates in the hundreds of thousands were re- 
ceived, several in the millions, the highest esti- 
mate being 600,060,017. The correct number 
was found to be 8120. The company says: 
" We feel a pardonable pride in having con- 
tributed to poultry science an hem of informa- 
tion actuallv new." 






Rule. State carefully all details pertaining to the matter about 
which you inquire, or desire to tell others. For the identification of 
insects or plants, send the whole specimen. If the object is an insect, 
state where you found it, what it was doing, and on what plant it 
was feeding. If it is a plant, send it all, unless it is too large.